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Studies on Homer and the Homeric Age, Vol. 2 of 3 / Olympus; or, the Religion of the Homeric Age cover

Studies on Homer and the Homeric Age, Vol. 2 of 3 / Olympus; or, the Religion of the Homeric Age

Chapter 6: Juno.
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About This Book

The author analyzes the religious world reflected in the Homeric poems, arguing that Homeric belief combines a declining theological tradition with active myth-making. He identifies vestiges of primitive providential ideas alongside newly formed Olympian personifications, traces channels of religious tradition and possible echoes of ancient messianic motifs, and examines key deities—especially Athena and Apollo—their attributes, precedence, and juridical powers. Attention is given to sacrificial practice, the progression from unified theism toward polytheism and nature-worship, the poet’s inventive role, and the social and moral order implied by divine interactions, reconstructed through comparative, philological, and interpretive evidence.

I come now to that mass of Homeric deities, who are either wholly mythological, or so loaded with mythological features, that their traditive character is depressed, and of secondary importance.

Jupiter.

The character of Jupiter, which commonly occupies the first place in discussions of the Greek mythology, has been in some degree forestalled by our prior examination of the position of other figures in the system, which are both more interesting and more important, from their bearing more significant resemblances to and traces of the truth of Divine Revelation.

Nevertheless, this character will well repay attention. To be understood and appreciated, it must be viewed in a great variety of aspects. When so viewed, it will be found to range from the sublime down to the brutal, and almost even down to the ridiculous. Upon the whole, when we consider that the image which we thus bring before us was during so many ages, for such multitudes of the most remarkable portion of mankind, the chief representative of Godhead, it must leave a deep impression of pain and melancholy on the mind.

‘If thou beest He; but Oh! how fall’n, how changed!’

The Jupiter of Homer is to be regarded in these four distinct capacities:

1. As the depository of the principal remnants of monotheistic and providential ideas.

2. As the sovereign lord of meteorological phenomena.

3. As the head of the Olympian community.

4. As the receptacle and butt of the principal part of such earthly, sensual, and appetitive elements, as, at the time of Homer, anthropophuism had obtruded into the sphere of deity.

Jupiter, as Providence.

There are three modes in which Homer connects Jupiter with the functions of Providence.

1. He procures or presides over the settlement, by deliberation in the Olympian Court, of great questions connected with the course of human affairs. In the Court of the Fourth Iliad, and in the Assembly of the Eighth, he himself takes the initiative; in the Seventh and Twentieth Books he listens to the proposals of Neptune; in the Twenty-fourth, Apollo introduces the subject; in the First and Fifth Odyssey, Minerva does the like.

2. He is a kind of synonym for Providence with reference to its common operations, to the duties and rights of man, and to the whole order of the world. Perhaps there are an hundred, or more, passages of the poems, where he appears in this manner. But they are all open to this observation, that his name seems, in most of them, to be used as a mere formula, and to be a sort of a caput mortuum without the enlivening force of the idea that he is really acting in the manner or upon the principle described.

3. On certain occasions, however, he appears as a supreme God, though single-handed, and not acting either for or with the Olympian assembly. The grandest of these occasions is at the close of the Twenty-fourth Odyssey, where Minerva, stimulated by her own sympathizing keenness, seems to have winked at the passionate inclination of Ulysses to make havock among his ungrateful and rebellious subjects. Jupiter, who had previously counselled moderation, launches his thunderbolt, and significantly causes it to fall at the feet of Minerva, who thereupon gives at once the required caution to the exasperated sovereign. Peace immediately follows[301].

Jupiter, with some of the substantial, has all the titular appendages of a high supremacy. He is habitually denominated the Father of gods and men. He is much more frequently identified with the general government of the world, than is any other deity. He is universally the ταμίης πολέμοιο. He governs the issue of all human toil, and gives or withholds success. It is on his floor that the caskets rest, which contain the varying, but, in the main, sorrowful incidents of human destiny[302]. He has also this one marked and paramount distinction, that he does not descend to earth to execute his own behests, but in general either sends other deities as his organs, to give effect to his will, or else himself operates from afar, by his power as god of air. If however he is more identified with the general idea of Providence than are Apollo and Minerva, it is plain, on the other hand, that his agency is more external, abstract, and remote; theirs more inward and personal: especially, the function of moral discipline seems, as we have already found, to belong to Minerva.

Nägelsbach[303] considers that Jupiter alone can act from a distance: but the prayer of Glaucus to Apollo, followed immediately by the healing of his wounds, seems to prove the reverse conclusively. Again, Minerva reminds Telemachus that the deity can save even when at a distance (Od. iii. 231): we have no authority for absolutely confining this to Jupiter, and none for affixing a limit to the space within which Apollo or Minerva can act. That Jupiter always acts from far, may be due in part to his representing the tradition of the one God; but the argument is also in some degree incidental to the nature of his special and mythological gifts, as god of the atmosphere and its phenomena.

Upon the whole, the marks of affinity to ancient tradition are stronger in the Homeric Minerva and Apollo than in Jupiter. He is the ordinary Providence, but this is an external Providence. He undoubtedly excels them in force, and in the majesty which accompanies it. But the highest of the divine prerogatives, of which we have but glimpses indeed in any of them, are hung more abundantly around these his favoured children, than around himself. The secret government of the minds of men, the invisible supremacy over natural laws, the power of unravelling the future (except perhaps as to the destinies of states), the faculty of controlling death, are scarcely to be discovered in Jupiter, but are oftener made clearly legible in Apollo or Minerva. Indeed Minerva appears always to have latent claims, which Homer himself could not fully understand or describe, to the very first place. It is only by supposing the existence of vague traditions to this effect, that we can explain such passages as that in which she delights, that Menelaus had prayed to her in preference to any other deity[304];

ὣς φάτο· γήθησεν δὲ θεὰ γλαυκῶπις Ἀθήνη,
ὅττι ῥά οἱ πάμπρωτα θεῶν ἠρήσατο πάντων.

This sentiment may be accounted for in two ways. It may be due to the vulgar vanity of a merely mythological divinity scuffling for precedence. It may be a remnant of the tradition of a wisdom that knew no superior. The former cause would be scarcely suitable even to the deities of invention in Homer. The latter seems wholly in keeping with the character and position of his Minerva.

It may be asked, in which of the two capacities does Jupiter chiefly influence the government of the world? is it as the Supreme Deity, acting in the main by his own will and power? or is it as the head of the Olympian community, to whose deliberate decisions he, in a species of executive capacity, gives effect?

I think there can be no doubt that the activity of Jupiter is principally made available in the latter capacity. Not that the Poet had defined for himself the distinction. But there were two processes, each of which had been actively advancing: the breaking up of Godhead into fragments, which diminished the relative distance between Jupiter and the other Immortals: and the reflection of human ideas of polity upon Olympus, which gave a growing prominence to the element of aristocracy.

Upon the whole, then, I should say that the traditive ideas of monotheism, and of a personal Providence represented in the Homeric Jupiter, are on almost all occasions things of the past. They are like the old jewels of a family, beautiful and imposing for occasions of state: but they scarcely enter into his everyday life. Indeed, their chief effect is the negative one of withdrawing him, on the score of dignity, from immediate contact with mortals and with their concerns; and, were it not for his atmospheric prerogatives, this isolated supremacy would carry him into insignificance as compared with a deity like Minerva, who is ever in the view of man, and ever making herself felt both in his mind and in his affairs.

There are occasions, but they are not very numerous, when, under the influence of an unwonted zeal, we find Jupiter himself taking a part in the detailed action of the Iliad; his interferences being usually confined to the greater crises or indications, such as the one mentioned in Il. ii. 353, and such as the occasions when the τάλαντα are produced. As examples of minor interposition, I may cite his inspiring Ajax with fear, his launching a thunderbolt in the path of Diomed, his breaking the bow-string of Teucer, and his advising Hector to avoid an encounter with Agamemnon[305].

Jupiter as Lord of Air.

But the position assigned to him in the mythology of Olympus, which provides him with the second of his characters, is chosen with great skill. Although at first sight Sea may appear a more substantive and awful power than Air, and Earth a more solid and worthy foundation of dominion than either, yet consideration must readily show, that as the king of the atmosphere, Jupiter is possessed of far more prompt, effective, and above all, universal means of acting upon mankind, than he would have been had the lottery been so arranged as to give him either of those other provinces.

The tradition of a Trinity in the Godhead evidently leaves its traces on the Greek mythology in the curious fable of the three Kronid brothers. For the lottery of the universe, in which they draw on equal terms, is not founded upon, but is at variance with, Greek ideas. Those ideas embodied the system, more or less defined, of primogeniture: and therefore, had the Olympian system been wholly inventive, the very least it could have assigned to Jupiter would have been a priority of choice among the different portions of the universe. This lottery is evidently founded upon the idea of an essential equality in those who draw. Happily the result is such as to coincide with the order of natural precedence: and the value and weight of the three charges is graduated according to the standing of the brothers, though their abstract equality is so rigidly asserted by Neptune, who declares himself ἰσόμορον καὶ ὁμῇ πεπρωμένον αἴσῃ (Il. xv. 209).

The exclusion of Earth from the lottery is singular: but it appears to have a double justification. In the first place, we must bear in mind the regularity of its operations, combined with the fact that it sensibly acts on nothing, but is passive under other agencies, such as those of Sun, Wind, and Sea. This would have rendered the conception of it as a deity comparatively feeble in the Greek mind. In the second place, it is probable that when the Olympian mythology took its shape, that province was preoccupied: that the Eastern religions, observing its jointly passive and productive character, had personified it as feminine. But even this did not content the Greek imagination. The conception of the bride of the chief deity was disengaged from brute matter, and uplifted into a divinity having for its office the care and government of a civilized and associated people. The Homeric Juno may almost be defined as the goddess of Greece. There rose up in her place, like a low mist of evening, from the ground, the comparatively obscure Homeric Γαῖα, who has no life or function, except in connection with the idea of vengeance to be executed upon the wicked; and this she probably derives from the belief, that the rebel spirits were punished in the subterranean prisons, of which she was as it were, by physical laws, the necessary keeper.

As Lord of the air, Jupiter came to be endowed with a multitude of active powers the most palpable, and the most replete with at least outward influence for man. The years are his years, the thunder and lightning his thunder and lightning, the rain his rain; the rivers, or the most illustrious among them, the Διϊπετεῖς ποταμοὶ, are his: the clouds and tempests obey his compelling, the winds blow at his command. The hail and snow come from him[306]: he impels the falling star[307], and, when he desires a more effective weapon or a more solemn lesson than usual, he launches the scathing thunderbolt[308]. All signs and portents whatever, that appear in air, belong primarily to him; as does the genial sign of the rainbow,

ἅστε Κρονίων
ἐν νέφεϊ στήριξε, τέρας μερόπων ἀνθρώπων[309].

And when these or any of them are used by other deities, it is only by such as have a peculiar relationship, either traditive or mythological, to him.

But as the tradition of the lottery adorns and strengthens, so in another view it circumscribes him. His sway is unknown in the regions of the dead, where his brother holds the sceptre, as the Ζεὺς καταχθόνιος[310]. Accordingly, when Hercules is sent to fetch Cerberus, Jupiter obtains for him the aid of Minerva. The more traditive deity escapes the circumscriptions of the less; the daughter eclipses the sire.

Much of the higher power exerted by Juno is in fact her use of the atmospheric prerogatives of her husband.

Jupiter as Head of Olympus.

But the most considerable and characteristic manifestation of the Homeric Jupiter is that, in which he appears as Head of the Olympian Family and Polity. Of this let us now consider so much, as is not more immediately connected with the subject of the divine Polity.

He is carefully marked out as supreme in the mythological prerogatives, which are for Olympus as the Crown and Sword of State on Earth. He is the original owner of the Ægis. To him the gods rise up at their meetings[311]. He is not tied to swear by Styx[312], and invokes no infernal power to be the sanction of his word, but condescends only to use the symbol of a nod.

Of omnipotence, as we understand the word, it would not appear that Homer had any idea. He had however the idea of a being superior in force to all other gods separately, or perhaps even when combined. This being was Jupiter. But the conception in his mind was a wavering one, so that, though it was present to him, we cannot say that he embraced it as a truth. If by some parts of the poems it is supported, by others it is brought into question or overthrown. As respects Briareus, who was not a god, his superiority in mere force to Jupiter is expressly declared (Il. i. 404).

In the Assembly of the Eighth Book, Jupiter loudly proclaims his personal superiority in strength to all the other gods and goddesses combined; and boasts that, while by a golden chain they could not unitedly drag him down to earth, he could drag them all, with earth and sea to boot behind them.

Again, when in the same Book Juno[313] suggests to Neptune the plan of a combination among all the Hellenizing gods to restrain Jupiter, and to assist the Greeks in despite of him, Neptune replies that he at least will have nothing to say to such a proceeding, for Jupiter is far too strong[314].

But in the First Book we learn that a rebellion headed by Juno, Neptune, and Minerva, was too much for him. It is, however, clear that he had not actually been put in chains by these deities; but they were about to do it, when Briareus came to the rescue, and by his mere appearance reestablished Jupiter in secure supremacy. This legend has a mark of antiquity in the fact that Briareus has two names; he is known as Briareus among the gods, and as Ægæon among all mankind[315].

When, in the Fifteenth Book, Jupiter apprehends a stubborn resistance from Neptune, and the necessity of his personally undertaking the execution of his own commands, he is far from easy. With the aid of Juno, his brother can, he thinks, easily be managed[316]. When he finds Neptune has retired, he frankly owns it is much better for them both; as to have put him down by force[317] would have been a tough business (οὔ κεν ἀνιδρωτί γ’ ἐτελέσθη).

Juno and Minerva, single or combined, he threatens freely, and the first of these he had once severely punished: but Neptune was stronger, though in mind inferior; and we have no direct evidence that he was present in the Assembly of the Eighth Book, when Jupiter bragged of his being stronger than them all together. Neither he nor Juno obeyed the command of Jupiter, to observe neutrality until his purpose of glorifying Hector should have been accomplished.

On the whole, the superiority of Jupiter to any one god is clear, though not immeasurable. His superiority to the whole is doubtful. The point in his favour is, that he never was actually coerced. The point against him is, that his will seems to give place, and this too on very great occasions, to the sentiments of the weightiest part of the Olympian Court.

In his government of the other gods, the moral element disappears. He does not appeal to their sense of right, nor profess to be ruled in his own proceedings towards them by impartial justice. On the contrary, he desires the wounded Mars not to sit whining by his side; and, before ordering Paieon to heal his hurts, makes a distinct declaration, that had he been the son of any deity other than himself, he should have been ejected from heaven into a lower place, apparently meaning the dark and dismal Tartarus, on account of his love of quarrels. A profound attachment to ease and self-enjoyment lies at the root of his character. He never disturbs the established order; and he is averse to movement and innovation, come from whence it may. The spirit of Juno[318], so restless on behalf of Greece, is vexatious to him in the highest degree: and his love of Troy, if it has reference to any thing beyond liberality in sacrifices and the descent of Dardanus, may perhaps be referred to its representing the stereotyped form of society. It is probably on account of this indolence of temperament that, when he has brought Hector and the Trojans as far as the Ships, he feels he has had enough for the moment of the spectacle of blood; and accordingly he turns his eyes over Thrace and the country of the Mysians, the Hippemolgians, and the righteous and therefore presumably peaceful Abii[319]. Wearied with the perpetual din, he finds satisfaction in a change of prospect; but at another time, refreshed as we may suppose, he coolly states that he shall enjoy a sight of the battle:

ἔνθ’ ὁρόων φρένα τέρψομαι[320].
His political spirit.

The political element of Jupiter’s character, reflected more narrowly and turbulently in Juno, is, however, that which deserves the greatest attention.

It was so deeply implanted in him, that it entered into his personal conduct even when he was not in immediate contact with the Olympian body. For example, in the Sixteenth Iliad, Jupiter debates with himself whether he shall save Sarpedon from death by the hand of Patroclus. Juno, to whom he had made a sort of appeal for approval, protests according to the Olympian formula,

ἔρδ’· ἀτὰρ οὔ τοι πάντες ἐπαινέομεν θεοὶ ἄλλοι.

She suggests in preference a prompt rescue and disposal of the dead body. Jupiter is not here in actual contact with any one but Juno. She, however, menaces him with the spleen of the Immortals, and he, averse to trouble, and fearful of shaking his own seat, acquiesces, though at the cost of the utmost pain[321].

Over and above the mere insignia of sovereignty, Jupiter holds some of his best prerogatives, both terrestrial and Olympian, in the capacity of head of the community of Immortals.

Hence it is that he is the steward of sovereignty, and the champion of social rights. All princes and rulers hold from him, and administer justice under his authority. He gave their sceptre to the family of Pelops: even the heralds are his agents, Διὸς ἄγγελοι, and act in his name.

On Olympus it falls to him in this capacity, not only to conduct and superintend the proceedings of the whole body of Immortals, as a body, but to exercise a very large influence over their relations individually with men, and with one another. The Sun carries to Jupiter in full court, as head of the body, his complaint against the crew of Ulysses, and Jupiter at once undertakes to avenge it[322]. Juno, again, appeals to him on the conduct of Mars[323], and he permits her to let loose Minerva on him. Mars, when wounded, goes to Jupiter with his complaint[324], and Diana also, when requested, makes him privy to hers, after she has taken her seat upon his knee[325]. When any two deities are in any manner at issue or in collision, or when any of the more dependent gods have a quarrel with men, then Jupiter finds his place as the natural arbiter, and from this source he obtains great support for his power. The surest of all its guarantees is indeed found in the skill with which, by making the will of Olympus his own, he makes his own will irresistible.

Thus then the Jupiter of Homer has varied elements of grandeur, traditional, physical, and political. Something also accrues to him by the sheer necessity of the metaphysical order. Wherever the mind demands a personal origin or cause, he alone can offer to supply its want. He still continues to represent, in a certain degree, the principle of unity; and he derives strength from that principle. Nor does the solid might of Destiny interfere with his claims to the same extent in Homer, as it does in the later Greek poetry.

Thus equipped with august prerogatives, the Jupiter of Homer is evidently, to the popular view, the most sublime object in the Olympian mythology. His breadth and grandeur of dimension commended him to the admiring favour of the Greek artist, who made it his supreme effort to embody the conception of the Sovereign of Olympus: and we may judge of his elevation in the public apprehension over all other deities, by the greater sublimity of the material forms, in which the idea of his divinity has been enshrined.

But the figure of Jupiter, as it is the principal, so it is also the most anomalous, in the whole Homeric assemblage. Although he is, and even because he is, the depository of so many among the most primitive and venerable ideas, he becomes also the butt alike of the infirmity, and the wantonness, and insolence of human thought, in the alterative operations which it continually prosecutes upon the ancient and pure idea of Godhead. Hence not only in his character, as in other cases, does the inventive power everywhere sap, corrode, invade, and curtail the ancient traditionary conception of divine truths, but it is in him that we find both systems culminating at once, both exhibiting in him, raised to the highest power, their separate and discordant characteristics.

From one point of view Jupiter is the most sublime of all the deities of Homer, because he is the first personal source and origin of life, the father of gods and men, the supreme manifestation of Power and knowledge, the principal, though imperfect living representation of a Providence and Governor of the world.

Regarded from another point of view, as we see disclosed the large intrusion of the human and carnal element into the ethereal sphere, the character of Jupiter becomes the most repulsive in the whole circle of Olympian life[326]. The emancipation from truth, the self-abandonment to gross passion, the constant breach of the laws he administers, are more conspicuous in the chief god than in any of the subordinate gods, and are more offensive in proportion to the majesty with which they are unnaturally associated.

Jupiter as the type of animalism.

The ungovernable self-indulgence, which even so early as in the time of Homer has begun to taint through and through the whole human conception of the Immortals, rises to its climax, as was to be expected, in Jupiter. The idea of the Supreme, or at least by far the First being of the universe, had not yet, indeed, descended so low as it did in after-times, when it was even associated with lusts contrary to nature. Of these there is no trace in Homer. But the law which governs the relation of sex, as it exists among men, was utterly relaxed and disorganized for him. In the first place, monogamy, established for all Greeks, for the chief god of Greece became polygamy; and in the second, marriage was no bar against incessant adultery.

A certain distinction between the wives, and the mere paramours, of Jupiter is clearly traceable in Homer. Latona, for instance, is a wife, an ἄλοχος of Jupiter. Mercury says of her[327]

ἀργαλέον δὲ
πληκτίζεσθ’ ἀλόχοισι Διὸς νεφεληγερέταο.

But the intrigues with the wife of Ixion, or with the daughter of Phœnix, who bore to him the great Minos, mark mere adultery, and involve no kind of permanent relation between Jupiter and this class of the mothers of his children. Hence we do not find any such person possessed of an interest in him, like that which led him to take part in the vengeance inflicted on Niobe and her family by the children of Latona[328]. Again, as he is not a personal providence, and does not take charge of the destiny or guide the conduct of individuals, nor ever touches the depths of human nature, so he has at once the largest share of the passions and the smallest stock of the sympathies of man.

From an intermediate point between the grandeur and the vileness of Jupiter, we may observe how unequal the human mind had already proved to sustain its own idea. He ought to be supreme in knowledge; but he is thrice deluded by the cunning of Juno[329], who not only outwits him, but sends Iris down to earth without his knowledge, just as Neptune moves (λάθρη) on the plain of Troy unseen by him[330]. He ought to be supreme in force, and he boasts that he could drag with ease all the deities of Olympus, whom he addressed, but he is, notwithstanding, on the point of being overpowered by a combination of inferior deities, when he is saved by the timely arrival of Briareus with the hundred hands. His faculty of vision does not seem to be limited by space when he chooses to employ it[331], but it is subject to interruption, both voluntary and involuntary, from sleep[332].

Although there is great scenic grandeur in the part which he plays in the Iliad, in the Odyssey he is until nearly the close practically a mute, and does little more than assent to the plans and representations of Minerva.

In the action, however, of the Iliad, the only glimpse of a personal attachment is to Hector; and this is founded simply on the abundance of his sacrifices. Jupiter is the great propounder of the animal view of that subject: and accordingly in the Odyssey[333], Minerva pleads the case of Ulysses very much on this ground before Jupiter, though, in all her intercourse with that chief, there is no sign of her valuing the offerings on her own account. In every point of sensual susceptibility, Jupiter leads the way for the Immortals.

Qualified by his parental instincts.

In Jupiter, as in the almost brutal Mars, we find remaining that relic of personal virtue which depends least upon reflection, and flows most from instinct, namely, parental affection. Mars is wrought up to fury by learning the death of his son Ascalaphus; and Jupiter, after much painful rumination on consenting to the fall of Sarpedon, sheds gouts of blood over the dearest of his children[334]. This is singularly grand as poetry, and far superior to the sheer mania of Mars. Indeed it is evident that Homer exerted himself to the utmost in adorning this majestic figure, as a mere figure, with the richest treasures of his imagination.

When, in the Twenty-First Iliad, the great battle of the gods begins, Jupiter has no part to take. He sits aloft in his independent security, while they contend together, even as he was afterwards supposed to keep aloof from trouble and responsibility for human affairs. The same sentiment appears in the determination of Neptune and Apollo not to quarrel on account of mortals. But in the case of Jupiter, the selfish principle comes out with greater force: he is not merely indifferent, but he absolutely rejoices in the strife of the Immortals:

ἐγέλασσε δέ οἱ φίλον ἦτορ
γηθοσύνῃ, ὅθ’ ὁρᾶτο θεοὺς ἔριδι ξυνιόντας.

Upon the whole it is certainly the Jupiter of Homer in whom, of all his greater gods, notwithstanding his abstract attributes, we see, first, the most complete surrender of personal morality and self-government to mere appetite; secondly, the most thoroughly selfish groundwork of character: the germ, and in no small degree the development, of what was afterwards to afford to speculation the materials for the Epicurean theory respecting the divine nature, as it is set forth in the verse of Lucretius, or in the arguments of the Ciceronian Cotta.

Juno.

The Juno of Homer.

The Juno of the Iliad is by far the most conspicuous and splendid, as she is also the most evidently national, product of the inventive power to be found in the entire circle of the theo-mythology.

Not that Greek invention created her out of nothing. On the contrary, she represented abundant prototypes in the mythologies of the East. Her Greek name, Ἥρη, is, I apprehend, a form of ἔρα, the earth[335]; and in her first form she probably represented one of its oriental impersonations. But they all had to pass through the crucible, and they came out in a form as purely Hellenic as if it had been absolutely original.

It is plain from the nature of the case, that she can have had no place in primitive tradition. But it may be well before discussing her mythological origin, her dignity and positive functions, to refer to certain indications from which we may make sure that Homer has handled the character in the mode observed by him for deities of invention only.

There is, then, about Juno a liability to passion, and a want of moral elevation, which are among the certain marks of mythological origin. Jupiter declares his belief that, if she could, she would eat the Trojans; nor does she resent the imputation[336]. When Vulcan is born, angry at the mean appearance and lameness of the infant, she pitches him down into the sea[337]. These representations are entirely at variance with the constant dignity and self-command, which mark the deportment of the great traditive deities. Her whole activity in the Iliad is not merely energetic, but in the highest degree passionate and ardent.

So again, taking into consideration the comparative purity attaching to her sex, which we see so fully maintained in Diana, her resort to the use of sensual passion, in Il. xiv., even though only as an instrument for an end, is a mark that the character is, in its basis, mythological.

Nor do we anywhere find ascribed to her ethical, or what may be called theistic sentiments: pure power and policy are her delight; and she nowhere enters individually within the line of the moral and Providential order at all, nor takes any share in superintending it[338].

In the Iliad, of which the martial movement is appropriate to her, and where the Greek nationality is placed in sharp contrast with a foreign one, she plays a great part, is ever alert and at work, and contributes mainly to the progress of the action. But in the Odyssey, a poem more simply theistic and ethical, and without any opposition of nationalities, she has no share in the action, and may be said practically to disappear from view. To appreciate the force of this circumstance, we must contrast it with Homer’s treatment of another deity, inferior to her in the Olympian community. The three greatest deities, among those who embody much of primitive tradition, are Jupiter, Minerva, and Apollo. Of these, Jupiter, in the character of Providence, has everywhere a place ready made for him; Minerva, as the guide and protectress of Ulysses, has ample opportunities for her activity; but it is not so with Apollo: and in consequence Homer has been careful to supply in the poem points of contact with him, by the introduction of Theoclymenus, and of the grand imagery of the second sight, which is his gift; by fixing the critical day at the new moon, which was sacred to him, and by causing the crisis to turn upon the bow, his famous weapon: as though these three, Jupiter, Minerva, and Apollo, were the universal, permanent, and indispensable deities; but the others occasional, and to be used according to circumstances. Juno has no such place or office provided for her in the Odyssey, as they have.

There is yet another mark adhering to Juno, which clearly separates between her and the Homeric deities of strongly marked traditional character: namely, that she was not exempt from the touch of defeat and dishonour. For, in the course of her long feud with Hercules, that hero wounded her with an arrow in the left breast, and caused her to suffer desperate pain[339]. Again, she was ignominiously punished by Jupiter; who suspended her with her hands in chains, and with anvils hanging from her feet[340].

Her intense nationality.

Her strong and profound Greek nationality has obtained for her the name of Argeian Juno. The fervour of this nationality is most signally exemplified in the passage where Jupiter tells her, that she regards the Greeks as her children[341]; and again, where she lets us know that it was she[342] who collected the armament against Troy. She conducts Agamemnon the head of the Greek nation safely on the sea[343]; and carries Jason through the Πλαγκταί[344]. This is the vivifying idea of her whole character, and fills it with energy, vigilance, determination, and perseverance. Her hatred of Hercules cannot have been owing to conjugal jealousy, with which she is not troubled in Homer, for Jupiter recites his conquests in addressing her on Ida; indeed, had she been liable to this emotion, it must, from the frequent recurrence of its occasions, have supplied the main thread of her feeling and action. It was her identification in soul with the Perseid dynasty, the legitimate representative, in its own day, of the Hellenic race, and in occupation of its sovereign seat, that made her filch, on behalf of Eurystheus, the effect of the promise intended by Jupiter for Hercules, and that engaged her afterwards in a constant struggle to bear down that elastic hero, whose high personal gifts still threatened to eclipse his royal relative and competitor. So again, unlike Minerva[345], even while seeking to operate through Trojans, she studiously avoids contact with them. Minerva is sent as agent to Pandarus[346]; but this is on the suggestion of Juno. In truth, this intensely national stamp localizes the divinity of Juno, and, being counteracted by no other sign, fixes on her the note both of invention, and of Greek invention.

With respect now to her dignity and positive functions, these are of a very high order.

The Olympian gods rise from their seats to greet her (as they do to Jupiter) when she comes among them[347].

She acts immediately upon the thoughts of men: as when, at the outset of the Iliad, she prompts Achilles to call the first Greek assembly; τῷ γὰρ ἐπὶ φρεσὶ θῆκε θεὰ λευκώλενος Ἥρη[348]. On various occasions, she suggests action to Minerva, and it follows[349]: in the First Book, Juno is even said to send her, though by another arrangement the Poet has provided against attaching inferiority to that goddess[350]. It may be that in her seeming to employ Minerva, as in so many of her highest functions, she is reflecting one of the high prerogatives of Jupiter. Certain it is that by the side of her ceaseless and passionate activity, even Minerva appears, except on the battle-field, to play, in the Iliad, a part secondary to hers. She was so powerful[351], not only as to form one of the great trine rebellion against Jupiter, which so nearly dethroned him, but as to make him feel greatly relieved and rejoiced, in his differences with Neptune, when she promises to side with him[352]: ‘with your aid,’ so thinks Jupiter, ‘he will easily be kept in order, and will have to act as we could wish.’ She is certainly the most bold, untiring, zealous, and effective assistant to the Greeks: while she never bates a hair of her wrath, in compassion or otherwise, towards any Trojan.