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He exhorts the great hero to interpose | warned is forearmed." And why, he before it shall be too late. Afraid of as- asks with stinging sarcasm, should Agasuming directly the office of a censor, he memnon want Achilles, when he has ingeniously introduces a tale, according been able to build and dig and fortify so to which Peleus had admonished his much without him? But, as the appeal son, when about to set forth, to be on his of Odysseus had described the forwardguard against his own haughty overween-ness of Hector, he is now reminded how ing spirit. Following up this adroit little forward Hector was when Achilles stroke, and reckoning on its effect, he used to take the field. proceeds to detail in imposing series the In this state of things he will depart gifts offered by Agamemnon (ix. 262-99): next morning (IV.). Moreover, Odysseus but offered, we must remember, without may come and see him go if he likes! any confession of his fault, such as at the And, on the whole, he will be able to get final Reconciliation he has to offer (Il. on very well, in peace, at home. Such is xix. 134-9). In them is of course includ- the message he has to send; and he deed the restoration of Briseis; and there sires it may be given publicly before the is added a proposal that he shall choose, Achaian Chiefs, that their indignation too among the three daughters of the Sov- may be at length aroused. This is his ereign, whichever of them he prefers to admirable, not too sharply pointed anbe his wife. Having thus by varied swer, to the appeal of Odysseus on bemeans done all he can to soften the ob-half of the Army apart from Agamemnon. durate soul, he makes his final appeal In expressing the hope that their indig(300-5) in the name, and on behalf of nation may be awakened, he reminds the other Chiefs and of his fellow-coun- them that it ought to have been stirred trymen at large, whom Achilles ought to before, when they stood by in silence, distinguish from the guilty King; and and saw him foully wronged. makes it, lastly, in the name of the rich prize, the capture and destruction of Hector, which is sure to be his, inasmuch as that warrior will now, such is his present daring, not fear to come into the way of danger.

All this time he keeps pent up within him a torrent of passion. He had passed through one climax of emotion, when it found vent in the contrast between his case with Briseis, and the case of the Atridai with Helen. He had closed the door again; but the flood rolled and swelled within him; and, as it rises, he is

That wrathful Achilles, of whom some conceive only as of a big spoiled child, has reined himself in during this pro-reduced, in the effort of repression, to longed address; and now, opening the sluices of his eloquence, meets Odysseus at every turn, and beats him with his own arms. First, disclaiming all the arts of rhetoric, and blasting liars as with a thunderbolt, he slily hits at his astute opponent by setting forth the merits of truth and directness in speech (I.). He then sets out the case in a homely, business-like, matter-of-fact way (II.): how can it answer to him, as a rational man, to have all the work and none of the pay; his energies tasked to their utmost, and then their great results overlooked in the day of distribution? Nay, not only overlooked, but while all other prizes are respected, he has been foully robbed of his. And here he comes in contact with the topic which sets his soul on fire. They who tore this prize, a woman, from him, are the very same who, for a woman's sake, in whom they were interested, have called all the children of Hellas to war and to banishment from home (III.). Is it possible to deal with men on such terms? He at least will not, now that he knows them: "fore

abrupt and broken sentences (vv. 370-7). He sums up as to the person of Agamemnon, dismissing him with lofty scorn; and then he arrives at his other climax, in touching on the proffered Gifts (V. VI.). The wonderful lines which follow form the second climax of the Speech; and the two passages are, in very truth, the two summits of Parnassus. But still, while the Wrath rushes in streams of scorching lava, the subaltern action of sarcasm has its climax too. The word Basileus, which we render King, is one of singularly distinctive force and emphasis in the Iliad. In the great contention of the First Book (v. 186), Agamemnon had reminded Achilles of the superiority of his own station. And it was his boast and claim to be more royal, more a King than other chiefs. (II. ix. 69, 160.) In this hour of his exulting resentment, Achilles remembers all this, without too pointedly showing his remembrance, and suggests that Agamemnon shall confer the honour of the proposed alliance not on him but on some other Achaian, who is more a king than he.

He had met the sad description of the condition of the invading army by indications that it was likely to be worse; but he has not yet replied to the insinuation of Odysseus, so dexterously conveyed, respecting his haughty and unruly spirit. This he now proceeds to do by drawing a domestic picture (VII.) of a marriage for himself at home; this is all, he says, that is necessary to satisfy his haughty, his unruly mind (VIII.); so that, in the midst of towering pride and overboiling passion, he is enabled to take credit for a quiet, unambitious, and contented disposition. So the close of the Speech is marked by a gradual but rapid fall of temperature. He advises that all should do as he does, all go home, and spare themselves what may be the chance of utter ruin, and must be at best ineffectual pains. He again refers the business of extrication from the dilemma to the Chiefs in general, who, by a blameworthy silence, had been its cause: and then, as if to show how completely he is reined in, he ends by a courteous invitation to his friend and old tutor Phoinix to be his guest for the night, and accompany him homewards on the morrow; that is, if he be wholly willing, for, as to constraint, such a thing is not to be thought of for a

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As the sluggard; death befalls them.
With the herd in all I share
Save the battle's daily peril,

And the soul that in me bleeds?
As the bird, with all she gathers,
Still her callow offspring feeds,
Careless though her plight be evil,
Ill her plight and sharp her needs;
Even so I, times unnumbered,

Wore my sleepless nights away,
And in fight from morn to nightfall
Spent as oft the bloody day;
All to win for them a woman,

Men, and brave men, smiting down.
Peopled cities twelve, with vessels,
Seawards have I overthrown :
Inland, over deep-loamed Troié,
Have I sacked eleven more.
Well; the heaps of precious chattels,
Won from each, I ever bore
For a gift to Agamemnon,

Son of Atreus. He, that still
Lagged beside the wingéd vessels,
Took them with a ready will,
Some assigned to Kings and Chieftains,
But the most himself retained.
Every King and every Chieftain,
All he got, he holds it still;
Me, alone of the Achaians

Me, to plunder was his will,
And he holds the wife I cherished:
Let his greed, then, have its fill.

III.

Ay; but why should we Argeians
Wage with Troy the deadly war?
Why did he, the Son of Atreus,

Bring the gathered folk from far?
Is it not for bright-haired Helen,
Trojan with Achaian strives?
What! Of speaking men, do none, save
Sons of Atreus, love their wives?
Every good man, every steadfast,

Loves and cares for his; so her Loved I from my soul, and cherished, War-won captive though she were. Since, then, he hath once entrapped me, When he seized my prize amain,

Let him try no more, Odysseus.
Now, I know him. 'Tis in vain.
Let him rather, with thy counsel,
And the Kings, thy brethren, search
How he best may from the vessels
Ward the foeman's blazing torch.
Nay, but he hath wrought without me
Much and well. His wall he made,
Dug his broad deep foss around it,
In the foss his palisade
Firmly set. Yet all too feeble
Murderous Hector's sweep to stay;
Who, so long as with th' Achaians
I, Achilles, faced the fray,
Never cared to bring the battle
From the sheltering walls away,
Scarcely to the Skaian gateway
And the oak his sally made;
There once met me, and mine onset
Nearly with his life he paid.

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Victims first devoutly slain,

I to-morrow charge my vessels,

Haul and launch them on the main. Thou may'st see them - if thou willest,

If thou car'st for such a sight Over Helle's swarming waters Bound along in morning's light, And their crews of hardy rowers Ply the oar with eager might. Then if great Ennosigaios*

Grant good passage o'er the foam, Three short days will serve to bring me To my fruitful Phthian home. Wealth abides me there, that, hither Senseless drawn, I left in store: More of gold and ruddy copper, Slender-waisted women more, Iron grey, I carry with me;

All that lot had given before.
But my prize! that Agamemnon,

Son of Atreus, Lord, assigned,
Insolent he ravished from me.
Therefore, tell him all my mind
In the face of all, I charge thee.
Indignation so shall rise
In the soul of each Achaian,
If again his tricks he tries.
Truly he is ever clad in

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ΠΙΟ

Shamelessness. - Dog, though he be, 120 Look me in the face he dares not.

I forswear his company

Both in counsel and in action.

Once he duped, once wrought me ill; Words of his no more can cheat me. Long enough he works his will. Pass he to his doom; for surely

Zeus hath done his wits to nought.

And in sum, I hate his presents; Him I prize not at a groat.

V.

Gave he ten times, gave he twenty What he gives, it would be vain; If the wealth of all the wealthiest To appease me he could rain; Could Orchomenos, could Thebai Their inflowing riches yield; Egypt's Thebai, in whose mansions Matchless treasures lie concealed, And she boasts an hundred portals, And from every portal wide Twice an hundred horsed chariots Twice an hundred warriors guide. Ay, and were his offerings countless, Like the dust and like the sand, Not by them should Agamemnon Win my soul to his command, Of the biting shame he did me Till the price in full be got.

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Yes; that haughty mind within me
Much inclines at home to wed,
And with fitting mate united,
Partner of my lawful bed,
Live at ease upon the riches

That mine aged Sire did gain.
What is all this flourished City,
All the gates of Troy contain,
Were it as in peace she boasted,
Ere Achaians crossed the main ;
What is all, that great Apollo,

Archer Phoibos, safely locks In his stone-built fane's recesses, Mid the beetling Pythian rocks, Weighed against a life? A foray Oxen yields, and fleshy flocks; Store of caldrons, traffic earns, and Many a crest of chestnut horse; But the soul of man returns not, Not by bargain, not by force, Once it passes from the gateway Of his lips. My mother saith (Thetis, Goddess, silver-footed,) That unto the bar of Death Either Fate of twain may bear me. Home shall never greet mine eyes, If I still beleaguer Ilios;

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Yet my glory never dies.

But, if homeward I betake me

To my own dear land again,

Perishes my wealth of Glory

From the thoughts and lips of men ; Only, Death's dark goal receding,

Length of days shall crown me then,

Yea, for all it is my counsel,

Travel homeward o'er the wave;

Never shall ye see an ending,

Since that, Ilion's height to save,

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"Out-through the fresh and flourished lusty From the beautiful poem of Dunbar, "The Merle and the Nightingale."

One of the titles or names of Poseidon; signifying vale." Shaker of the Earth.

Wakeful Zeus his hand outstretches;

And its folk is waxen brave.

IX.

Go then, tell the news ye carry,
Speak as only Elders can,
To the Chiefs of the Achaians;
Bid them shape another plan,
And a better, which may save them,
Fleet and men alike, from bale,
Thronged by the shapely Vessels;
Seeing this may nought avail
Which they fashioned; I resenting
Still. For Phoinix, I would pray
Let him bide with me till morning,
Then to his dear land away
In my ships, if so it likes him,
Free to go, or free to stay.

W. E. G., 1874.

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I have advisedly adopted this rendering of yλapupñol as referring to the shaped and finished or " form of the ship rather than to its context.

"carven

It is surely more in conformity with the later uses of

the word.

From The Spectator.

THE WOMEN AND THE UNIVERSITIES.

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We heartily rejoice in the result. We said a fortnight ago that, under certain careful limitations as to age and the conditions of the examination, there appeared to us to be no plausible reason for excluding women from the same advantages of education, and the same testimonies to a good education, as men. What is to be desired is, that women may never be masculinized, that they may never belife, and as much hardened by the battle come as much exposed to the battle of of life, as men. Where a stronger and a weaker sex have to share between them the duties of life, it is very natural and very desirable that the more onerous and more rasping of human duties, those which involve most external toil and fag, should THE Convocation of the University of be taken by the stronger, while the weakLondon decided, by a majority of 83 to 65, er should accept those involving the to do all in its power for the admission most patience, tact, tenderness, and forof women to its degrees. Without the bearance. Any change which led to an concurrence of the Senate, which is the inversion of this relative position of the governing body of the University, this two sexes would be a very mischievous resolution will take no effect, and it is and dangerous change. But the question even possible that the present Gov- which the University of London had to ernment, in spite of its hankerings discuss was whether the proposed adafter female suffrage, might decline mission of women to its degrees did ento accede to a request of the Senate, danger this result or not. It decided, should the Senate make the request, rightly we think, that it did not, and for the supplementary charter neces- should the Senate concur, we confidently sary to carry out the object of Con- believe that it will be possible to carry vocation. But undoubtedly the great out the new policy without either bringstep has been taken in the conversion of ing women into the full tide of individual the popular body of the University to the competition, or encouraging them to proposed change. We call it the popular overwork at an age when overwork may body, though on most points it has un- seriously injure their physical organizadoubtedly been far more Conservative tion. If the age at which women are than the Senate; indeed, it is now many first admissible to degrees be made two years since the Senate were equally di- or three years later than that for young vided on the proposal to apply for the men; if the women be ranged in classpower to give degrees to women, and the lists by themselves, though subjected to proposition was lost only by the casting- the same absolute tests of proficiency; vote of the Chancellor, who as usual with and if the Oxford class system, as disthe owner of a casting-vote, gave it with tinguished from the Cambridge individuthe object of securing delay and recon- alizing system, be always adopted in the sideration. It certainly does not follow examinations for honours, we do not see that the Senate will be equally favourable that any unfeminine stimulus whatever to the proposition now. That body has will be applied even to the education of since been reinforced by a considerable the few who resolve on qualifying themnumber of graduates, and amongst them selves for the London degrees; and of not a few of the most conservative mem-'course, considering the age at which

for granted that women will no more force themselves into painful and unfeminine positions in medical than in any other department of life. It is quite possible for a woman to be unfeminine in a drawing-room or at a ball, and of course it will be equally possible at a hospital or in a consultation. What we insist on is, that while the feminine qualities are of the first possible value, there is not even so much danger of physiological knowledge driving them away, as there is of the special services which women already take to themselves, not only in relation to general hospital work, but in relation to special classes of medical cases, driving them away. If the almost menial services of nursing, without scientific knowledge, do not spot the delicacy of women, we are very certain that the addition of scientific knowledge will decrease rather than increase the danger.

how

women marry and undertake absorbing | delicacy does not suffer by her duties as household duties, we cannot doubt that nurse, it can certainly not suffer by her the number of them will always continue duties as physician. No doubt this takes to be indefinitely fewer than the number of men who enter for similar degrees. On the contrary, we believe that, in many directions, women who avail themselves of their new opportunities will gain not merely as human beings, but as women. Take the most critical department of all, surgery and medicine. It is because the medical profession believes that women will attempt to intervene in departments of that profession which are not fit for them, that they oppose their admission to medical degrees so strenuously. We cordially admit that there are many departments of surgery and medicine which are not well fitted for them, but women's delicacy will teach them as clearly what those departments are as it does already in hospitals, where the most refined ladies act as nurses. For how can their gain in knowledge and in the evidence of their knowledge,- for, after all, this is the most that the London University can directly give,- involve any loss in feminine qualities, or even be inconsistent with some accession to them? It might have been fairly maintained that some of the duties of nurses were duties which it was impossible for women to accept without some loss of delicacy, but that is just what the experience of generations has disproved. Women have always given these services, and have always gained new value in the eyes of men by the manner in which they have done so. Can it reasonably be maintained that when they have more accurate and scientific knowledge of the subject they are dealing with, their delicacy is likely to suffer even so much as it does when they are familiarized with the least pleasant of the hospital duties without attaching to them the same scientific meaning? Is it not matter of notoriety that what is coarse, or even vulgarizing work to one who attaches no physiological meaning or interest to it, carries to the trained surgeon or physician a meaning which diverts the attention from the vulgarizing accidents, and fixes it upon the causes and the results? And can any one doubt, then, that if a lady can take the distressing details upon herself without loss of delicacy, in spite of complete ignorance of what, in a medical sense, they imply, she can do so much more if she has the trained understanding of the physician, as well as the tender instincts of the nurse? If her

But, says the Times, these degrees, whenever they are gained, must lead women to desire to utilize them in professional life; with men, degrees are the gates to professional distinction, is it to be expected that they should be otherwise regarded by women? We should reply that, to a limited extent, it will be so, and ought to be so. The most effective external use made by men of degrees is to qualify them as teachers, and for this purpose we not only expect, but hope, that women also will use their degrees. Again, medical men use their degrees as guarantees of their possessing the proper knowledge of medicine, and the few women who are likely to practise medicine,― mainly, of course, in relation to the diseases of women and children, — will do the same. Again, science degrees may become very useful to a few exceptional women, as evidence of knowledge which will qualify them for appointments in certain of the scientific arts. But what we cannot understand is, why feminine tact cannot be trusted to discover for itself the various callings in which knowledge and the proof of knowledge may be put to good account, without any undue admixture of masculine forwardness, but must be protected by artificial hindrances put in the way of women's obtaining the proper attestation of their acquirements. We not only take no such guarantees where the danger is greatest,-in the case of the accomplishments of singing, dancing, and acting,

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