pentameter blank verse, with a few lyrics and some trochaic and dactylic
lines; there are also several excellent Sapphics. It has never been very
successful on the stage, although the music given with it is still so
popular that it has been recently published by Professor Stanley (cf.
bibliography). In the prologue a manuscript of Sappho’s poems is imagined
to have been found in excavating the theatre of Varius at Herculaneum,
just as Lucy Milburn, who lived in Lesbos for a while, pretended that she
procured her poems from papyri which she had discovered in a metal case
in the Orient. The scene of the tragedy is an olive grove on a promontory
overlooking the Aegean Sea. In the first act we have Atthis betrothed to
Larichus, and Anactoria deserted by Alcaeus for Sappho. Pittacus is one
of Sappho’s suitors who quarrels with Alcaeus and in trying to strike
him hits the slave Phaon. In the second act Sappho releases Phaon from
his yoke and they flee from Alcaeus after Phaon has struck him with his
spear. In the third act Phaon again strikes at Alcaeus, but this time
hits his own boy. Thalassa, his wife, shows him his own dead child and so
he returns to her, and the rejected Sappho springs into the misty sea.
There are inappropriate prose interludes with a pantomime of the drunken
Hercules. Sappho is here again not the real Sappho but the Sappho of
tradition, which is rather strange, as several of Sappho’s fragments, by
no means all that might have been suitable, are accurately and charmingly
paraphrased. This shows that Mackaye knew the fragments of Sappho, but
he has no real understanding of Sappho herself, for his Sappho is given
to unrestrained love and she rejects a great poet and statesman for the
married slave into whom Mackaye has transformed Phaon. I can quote only
the very dramatic hymn to Poseidon and Aphrodite:

    God of the generations, pain, and death,
    I bow to thee. Not for love’s sake is love’s
    Fierce happiness, but for the after-race.
    Yet, thou eternal Watcher of the tides,
    Knowing their passions, tell me! Why must we
    Rapturous beings of the spray and storm
    That, chanting, beat our hearts against thy shores
    Of aspiration—ebb? ebb and return
    Into the songless deep? are we no more
    Than foam upon thy garment?

    Another wave has broken at your feet
    And, moaning, wanes into oblivion.
    But not its radiance. That flashes back
    Into the morning, and shall flame again
    Over a myriad waves. That flame am I,
    Nor thou, Poseidon, shalt extinguish me.
    My spirit is thy changeling, and returns
    To her, who glows beyond the stars of birth—
    To her, who is herself time’s passion star.

Many individual American poems have also taken the title or themes from
Sappho. Oliver Wendell Holmes refers to her in the fourth stanza of _The
Voiceless_:

    Not where Leucadian breezes sweep
      O’er Sappho’s memory-haunted billow,
    But where the glistening night-dews weep
      On nameless sorrow’s churchyard pillow.

          (_The Atlantic Monthly_, Oct. 1858)

Samuel Latham Mitchill (1764-1831) reflects Sappho’s love of the rose in
an imaginary dialogue between Sappho and her younger contemporary from
Samos, Pythagoras:

    PYTHAGORAS AND SAPPHO, _or_ THE DIAMOND AND THE ROSE

    Long time ago, ’tis well expressed,
      Pythagoras the seer
    This question artfully addressed
      To beauteous Sappho’s ear:

    “When hence thou shalt be forced to flee,
      By transmigration’s power,
    Wouldst thou indeed prefer to be
      A jewel or a flower?”

    The Lesbian maid these words returned
      To greet the Samian sage,
    “For gems my taste has never burned,
      And flowers my choice engage.

    “The glittering stones, though rich and rare,
      No animation know,
    While vegetables fine and fair
      With vital action glow.

    “The senseless gem no pleasure moves,
      Displayed in fashion’s use,
    But flowers enjoy their gentle loves,
      And progeny produce.

    “Then when I shall surmount,” she cried,
      “Rude dissolution’s storm,
    Oh! let me not be petrified,
      But wear a living form.

    “Those matchless rays the diamond shows,
      With promptness I decline,
    That I may dwell within the rose
      And make its blossoms mine.”

In recent years many poems have appeared on Sappho. For example, thinking
perhaps of the story that Solon asked his nephew to teach him a song of
Sappho before he died, and echoing the epithet of “sweetly smiling” in
Alcaeus’ fragment, Richard Hovey (1864-1900) wrote in _The Independent_,
April 30, 1896, _A Dream of Sappho_:

    I dreamed of Sappho on a summer night,
    Her nightingales were singing in the trees
    Beside the castled river; and the wind
    Fell like a woman’s fingers on my cheek,
    And then I slept and dreamed and marked no change;
    The night went on with me into my dream,
    This only I remember, that I said:
    ‘O Sappho! ere I leave this paradise,
    Sing me one song of those lost books of yours
    For which we poets still go sorrowing;
    That when I meet my fellows on the earth
    I may rejoice them more than many pearls;’
    And she, the sweetly-smiling, answered me,
    As one who dreams: ‘I have forgotten them!’

We have referred above to Gamaliel Bradford’s use of Sappho’s apple
on the topmost bough; and Maurice Thompson, the author of _Alice of
Old Vincennes_ and the _Sapphic Secret_, published as his last song,
_Sappho’s Apple_ in _The Independent_, Feb. 21, 1901:

    SAPPHO’S APPLE

    A dreamy languor lapsed along,
      And stirred the dusky-bannered boughs;
    With half a sigh and half a song
      The crooning tree did nod and drowse,
    While far aloft blush-tinted hung
      One perfect apple maiden-sweet,
    At which the gatherers vainly flung,
      And could not get to hoard or eat.

    “Reddest and best,” they growled and went
      Slowly away, each with his load
    Fragrant upon his shoulders bent,
      The hill-flowers darkening where they trode;
    “Reddest and best; but not for us;
      Some loafing lout will see it fall;
    The laborer’s prize—’twas ever thus—
      Is his who never works at all!”

    Soon came a vagrant, loitering,
      His young face browned by wind and sun,
    Weary, yet blithe and prone to sing,
      Tramping his way to Avalon;
    Even I it was, who, long athirst
      And hungry, saw the apple shine;
    Then wondrous wild sweet singing burst
      Flame-like across these lips of mine.

    “O, ruby-flushed and flaring gold,
      Thou splendid lone one left for me,
    Apple of love to filch and hold,
      Fruit-glory of a kingly tree!
    Drop, drop into my hand,
      That I may hide thee in my breast,
    And bear thee far o’er sea and land,
      A captive, to the purple West.”

Renée Vivien (1877-1909), an American poetess of great promise who
died all too young and all too unknown to students of Sappho (see
bibliography), made some very nice French verse translations of Sappho
which were published under a pseudonym in 1903 and reprinted anonymously
in 1909. She pays her tribute to Sappho in these two verses:

    Les siècles attentifs se penchent pour entendre
    Les lambeaux de tes chants....

The Maryland poet, Father John B. Tabb, the only American who with
Emerson was admitted to the Oxford _Garland Series on Epigrams_, has two
poems on Sappho, in the first of which Keats is appropriately classed
with Sappho:[183]

    KEATS—SAPPHO

    Methinks, when first the nightingale
      Was mated to thy deathless song,
    That Sappho with emotion pale,
      Amid the Olympian throng,
    Again, as in the Lesbian grove,
      Stood listening with lips apart,
    To hear in thy melodious love
      The pantings of her heart.

    SAPPHO

    A light upon the headland, flaming far,
      We see thee o’er the widening waves of time,
    Impassioned as a palpitating star,
      Big with prophetic destiny sublime:
    A momentary flash—a burst of song—
      Then silence, and a withering blank of pain.
    We wait, alas! in tedious vigils long,
      The meteor-gleam that cometh not again!
    Our eyes are heavy, and our visage wan:
      Our breath—a phantom of the darkness—glides
    Ghostlike to swell the dismal caravan
      Of shadows, where thy lingering splendor hides,
    Till, with our tears and ineffectual sighs,
      We quench the spark a smouldering hope supplies.

We have already referred to Alan Seeger’s use of the famous midnight
fragment (p. 78). The magazines are fond of the subject of Sappho and
Phaon and have countless poems which refer to Phaon and the Leucadian
Leap. Buchanan has a poem called _The Leucadian Rock_; and Edward J.
O’Brien in the _Liberator_ says:

    Stir not the grasses here,
    O wandering zephyr,
    For Phaon travelled far over alien foam
    Before his footsteps turned in soft contentment
    Home to the green threshold
    He had forgotten.

Sara Teasdale, the modern burning American Sappho, has a poem on _Phaon
and the Leucadian Leap_ in _Scribner’s Magazine_, for December, 1913, pp.
725-6. The poem is too long to quote entire, and I can give only a few
lines:

    Farewell; across the threshold many feet
    Shall pass, but never Sappho’s feet again.
    ...
    ‘Whither goes Sappho lonely in the night?’
    Whither goes Sappho? Whither all men go,
    But they go driven, straining back with fear,
    And Sappho goes as lightly as a leaf
    Blown from brown autumn forests to the sea.
    ...
    Yet they shall say: ‘It was for Cercolas—
    She died because she could not bear her love.’
    ...
    Others shall say: ‘Grave Dica wrought her death.’
    ...
    Ah, Dica, it is not for thee I go.
    And not for Phaon, tho’ his ship lifts sail
    Here in the windless harbor, for the south.
    ...
    How should they know that Sappho lived and died
    Faithful to love, not faithful to the lover,
    ...
    The gods have given life, I gave them song;
    The debt is paid and now I turn to go.

Alfred Noyes, in his poem _In Memory of Swinburne_ uses the fragment
which Swinburne himself expanded (cf. p. 12). Edwin Arlington
Robinson[184] has translated _The Dust of Timas_ (cf. p. 100), which
has recently been diluted by William Stebbing into twelve verses in his
poem, _A Bride in Death_. Robinson’s rendering of Posidippus’ epigram on
Doricha is also excellent:

    So now the very bones of you are gone
    Where they were dust and ashes long ago;
    And there was the last ribbon you tied on
    To bind your hair, and that is dust also;
    And somewhere there is dust that was of old
    A soft and scented garment that you wore—
    The same that once till dawn did closely fold
    You in with fair Charaxus, fair no more.

    But Sappho, and the white leaves of her song,
    Will make your name a word for all to learn,
    And all to love thereafter, even while
    It’s but a name; and this will be as long
    As there are distant ships that will return
    Again to your Naucratis and the Nile.

There is little of Sappho except in name in Agnes Kendrick Gray’s
verses[185] or in those of William Alexander Percy.[186] Harry Kemp is
thinking of Byron rather than Sappho herself when he says that the lines,
“the Isles of Greece where burning Sappho loved and sung,” went to his
soul like a white hot iron. There is more in George Horton,[187] who in
the last poem on Sappho which I have seen from his pen has a refrain on
“bitter-sweet.” Mr. Horton forgets that we do know that Pittacus, (see
illustration Pl. 2) was “lord of Lesbos’ isle,” but the general sentiment
is true all the same:

    BALLADE OF SAPPHO’S FAME

    Oh, who was lord of Lesbos’ isle
    When Sappho sang for many a year,
    And great Apollo’s self the while,
    Ceased from the lyre and bent to hear?
    The titles to his heart so near,
    His lineage, who can now repeat?
    Yet she escaped oblivion drear
    Who said that love is “bitter-sweet.”

    And who by wealth or selfish guile
    became the island’s proudest peer?
    What siren with voluptuous wile
    Was potent at the royal ear?
    Who gained renown with sword and spear?
    Their fame is dust beneath the feet
    Of Time, and she alone is dear
    Who said that love is “bitter-sweet.”

    Our joy is sadder than the smile
    Of grief that cannot shed a tear;
    Our lives are like a little mile
    Marked on the orbit of a sphere;
    The wisdom that we most revere
    Is mixed with folly and defeat:
    Her laurel never can grow sere
    Who said that love is “bitter-sweet.”

    ENVOI

    From out that pallid atmosphere
    Where dawn and darkness vaguely meet,
    Comes but her lark-note cool and clear
    Who said that love is “bitter-sweet.”

I have quoted enough to discredit “The King of the Black Isles” who in
the _Line O’Type_ of the _Chicago Tribune_ for November, 1922, publishes
a poem with the alliterative caption, _A Lady Lived in Lesbos_.[188] The
last of the three stanzas is:

    We have forgotten beauty and all our goods are good,
    And little we remember now the dryads and the wood,
    And only old philosophers and foolish dreamers know
    What lady lived in Lesbos a weary time ago.

Even as this book goes to press, Tristram Tupper issues his novel,
_Adventuring_ (Doran Co., N. Y., 1923), in which Sappho is discovered
even down in the valley of the Shenandoah:

    “On such a night Jay Singleton discovered the most beloved
    singer of all the ages. Not in the Lesbian starlit dusk, nor
    yet in the golden-sandaled dawn, but beneath a smoky lamp in
    the valley of the Shenandoah. Found her in a book. And he
    liked the cut of her verses—three pentameters followed by a
    dipody; and he liked the cut of her clothes—sort of loose and
    careless before the Christian era. ‘No use falling in love,’
    said Jay Singleton to himself. ‘She sang her songs six hundred
    years B.C.’

    “But he pored over another fragment, translated another
    quatrain, looked up each word, strung them together, made a
    kind of rime. In a word, Jay Singleton tried to improve a bit
    on the inimitable Sappho. And that night out on his porch where
    no one could hear, not even at the post office quarter of a
    mile away, he struck the strings of his guitar and he sang this
    surprising Sapphic:

        Man is peer of gods in those moments after
        Love has silenced song and has banished laughter;
        Then—to her who smiles at him softly through tears—
            He has no peers.

    “He laid aside his guitar and lit his pipe, that made a pink
    glow in the darkness. He tried to form in his mind an image of
    Sappho and of her Isle of Lesbos, tried to wander back through
    the labyrinthine ages, ages misty with music, dusky with gold,
    red with wars, and blushing with roses—forgotten wars, faded
    roses mingling to form the perfume of the centuries. He pulled
    on his pipe. ‘Where is she now?’ Easy enough to imagine Sappho
    with her ivory throat, her violet eyes and sandals of golden
    dawn, back in the golden dawn of poetry. For, overhead, these
    were her stars. But he wondered about the form her singing soul
    had taken after she had leaped into the Ionian Sea. Had the
    waters quenched the spark, or was her soul immortal—a flame
    that twenty-five hundred years had failed to extinguish? Again
    he asked: ‘Where are you now? Where in this, the most cluttered
    up of all the ages?’ He tried to imagine her beside the Little
    Calfpasture—Sappho beside the Calfpasture Creek, sighing,
    laughing, singing her lyrics! ‘No use falling in love! Sang
    your songs twenty-five hundred years ago!’”

    In May, 1922, Miss Bertha Bennett of Carleton College produced
    an interesting pageant “A Grecian Festival” on the Sappho and
    Phaon story, with adaptations of Sappho’s first two odes and
    representing Sappho as leaping into Lyman lake. It ends with
    the union of Sappho and Phaon, after death, on Mt. Olympus.

AN ADDENDUM ON SAPPHO IN RUSSIAN

Many Russian writers mention Sappho, especially Vyacheslav Ivanov; and in
a volume republished in Berlin, 1923, (_Zovy Drevnosti_, _Echoes of the
Past_) Konstantin Dmitriyevich Balmont has translated eight of Sappho’s
fragments. The same poet (_Zacharovanny Grot_, _The Enchanted Grotto_,
vol. III, 1908) has published a poem on Sappho which my former student,
now of Columbia University, Dr. Clarence Manning, has translated in the
original metre:

    O Sappho, thou dost know alone
    How hard the poet strives revealing
    The secrets beauty once has shown
    In moments of immortal feeling.

    O Sappho, thou dost know alone—
    Thy name a perfume’s sweetness holy—
    The dreams that we one day have known
    But lost unspoken, faded wholly.

    O Sappho, thou dost know alone
    How clearly in uncounted masses
    Still unreached flowers yet are grown
    Where life through the charmed grotto passes.

XII. SAPPHO’S INFLUENCE ON MUSIC

On the operatic stage Sappho has had much influence; and above I have
told how Lamartine said that Sappho was a superb subject for an opera,
although he never wrote the opera, and how Grillparzer was asked to
write an opera on Sappho. In French we have a lyrical tragedy, _Sapho_,
by Empis and Courniol (1818), Delavault’s _Sapho_ and Gounod’s _Sapho_
(1851); and a few years ago (1897) Massenet produced his _Sapho_. In
Italian there is Pacini’s _Saffo_ (Naples 1840); in Dutch, Bree’s
_Sapho_; in German, Schwartzendorf’s _Sappho_ and Kanne’s _Sappho_; in
Bohemian, there is Reicha’s _Sappho_; and in Russian, Lissenko’s _Sappho_.

Brahms composed a _Sapphic Ode_, which is very familiar because it is
often sung to-day and there is an English victrola record of it by Julia
Clausen, but while it deals with Sappho’s favorite flower, the rose, it
is Sapphic only in name and metre:

    Rosen brach ich nachts mir am dunklen Hage.
    Süsser hauchten Duft sie, als je am Tage;
    Doch verstreuten reich die bewegten Aeste
    Thau, der mich nässte.
    Auch der Küsse Duft mich wie nie berückte,
    Die ich nachts von Strauch deiner Lippen pflückte;
    Doch auch dir bewegt ein Gemüth gleich jenen,
    Thauten die Thränen.

                               (Words by HANS SCHMIDT)

From the time of the _Schemata Musica_ printed in Volger’s edition
of 1810, down to the music published by G. Cipollini in 1890 in his
brother’s _Saffo_, many have put Sappho’s songs to music. Even in the
last few years many have tried their hand at the task. Perhaps the
most successful music, with a real touch of the old Greek flavor, is
that which was composed by Professor Stanley for several of Sappho’s
fragments in connection with Mr. Harrison Grey Fiske’s stage presentation
of Percy Mackaye’s _Sappho and Phaon_. This has been reprinted this
year in a general treatment of Greek music by Professor Stanley of the
University of Michigan. The selections published include “Builders,
Build the Roof-Beam High, Hymenaeon”; “Gath’rers, What Have We Forgot,
Hymenaeon!”; “What shall we do, Cytherea?”; “Hollow Shell, Horny Shell”;
“Akoue, Poseidon”; “Hesper, Eleleu”, etc. Miss Pearl C. Wilson, of Miss
Chandor’s School in New York, a former student of Professor Perry of
Columbia University, without making any pretense of reproducing the
ancient music has composed musical accompaniments for several of the odes
and also of the new fragments, which have been sung with much success.
She tried to illustrate the metre of each fragment, but found it more
satisfactory to write the music without the modern division into bars
and rests, simply indicating the long and short syllables by notes of
different values. This makes possible a lyric delivery of the poems,
each line determined solely by the words and their meaning. In that way
the simple melodies as expressions of the thought gain a great deal when
sung. I can testify from my own public experiments in readings from
Sappho that her fragments can be much better recited or chanted when
accompanied by music, as I am convinced they were originally.

XIII. EPILOGUE AND CONCLUSION

I venture to hope that out of all I have written in the preceding pages
some fairly clear idea of Sappho may have emerged. Yet the discussion
has had to wander widely through literature which has, indeed, been
influenced strongly by her name but journeys far from the Lesbian lyrist
herself. In closing this study it may be well, therefore, to return to
the woman and the poet and add some final words.

The fragments of many other ancient poets have been collected for merely
scholastic reasons, but Sappho’s literary remains are more than antique
specimens. They constitute a great and noble literature and some of
the latest found are among the best. They often rank as highly as the
completed poems of other writers—surely an unparalleled phenomenon. In
them we recognize the creator’s genius as clearly as in a fragmentary
torso of Phidias we see the sculptor’s art in every chiselled line. While
we miss the fullness of her life, we can restore her figure because
the fragments are “the real blood of her heart and the real flame of
her thought.” Nearly every line of them has been imitated, dilated or
diluted, and, disgraceful to say, many who have drunk of her living water
have poisoned it into stagnant and salacious slime. There is nothing like
this in the history of literature. Higginson in 1871 summarized the case:

    “What other woman played such a part in moulding the great
    literature that has moulded the world? Colonel Mure thinks
    that a hundred such women might have demoralized all Greece.
    But it grew demoralized at any rate; and even the island where
    Sappho taught took its share in the degradation. If, on the
    other hand, the view taken of her by more careful criticism
    be correct, a hundred such women might have done much to save
    it. Modern nations must again take up the problem where Athens
    failed and Lesbos only pointed the way to the solution,—to
    create a civilization where the highest culture shall be
    extended to woman also. It is not enough that we should dream,
    with Plato, of a republic where man is free and woman but
    a serf. The aspirations of modern life culminate, like the
    greatest of modern poems, in the elevation of womanhood. ‘Die
    ewige Weibliche zieht uns hinan.’”

Sappho, then, was a pure and good woman, busily and successfully engaged
in the work of her chosen profession. She was a teacher of singing and
dancing and the technique of poetry, and to give her pupils the finest
models she applied herself so seriously to the lyric art that she reached
a perfection in it to which no other classic poet attained. If she ever
collected her verse it was only to promote the idealization of marriage
pageants, and not with the purpose of publishing a full edition of her
songs. It would not be safe to deny that there was a practically useful
collection of Sappho’s songs in the archives of her school or guild or in
the Temple of Aphrodite, but no copies were sold at the book-stalls in
her own day as certainly was later the case in fifth century Athens.

Sappho, in fact, must be listed with two other names which, taken
together, form a unique and astonishing group, a group whose peculiar and
distinguishing feature is that their enduring thoughts and imperishable
words were indispensable necessities in their life-work rather than
productions as literature for the sake of literature. It is not because
of the accidental alliteration that we rank Sappho with Socrates
and Shakespeare. These great exemplars of song, ethics, and drama,
respectively, were alike in that it was not by their intention that
their works became literature. Shakespeare as a theatrical manager was
obliged by his position to write plays that would attract audiences. He
was compelled by his genius to make those dramas imperishable. But if he
had had his way none of them would ever have been printed. Our gratitude
must be given to prompters’ copies and to literary thieves. Socrates
was a teacher whose purely oral lessons his pupils, Plato and Xenophon,
committed to writing that the master’s inspiring thoughts might not die.

Socrates’ love for his young disciples was a love passing the love of
women. The myriad-minded man of Stratford,—“Gentle Will,” as his comrades
called him,—had an affectionate sympathy with all sorts and conditions of
his fellow-men. Sappho’s love for her girl friends was so intense that
there are those who, not knowing how passionate the love of woman can be
for woman, still fail, despite the evidence, to recognize a love more
sublime even than that for man.

How jealous she could be of her family’s good name! More than once she
prays that no dishonor may come to her house. How jealous also of those
who sought to win away the love of her girls and of the girls themselves
when any of them seemed to have forgotten her! How intensely, too, she
could hate, the outbursting passion against the “she-dog” at the close of
fragment E 36, which we have translated on page 20, may serve to suggest.
The fierceness of her satire is also incidentally shown in this as well
as in other fragments. (See E 35, 37, 71, _et al._)

Like Socrates and Shakespeare Sappho had a planetary mind swinging in its
orbit with ease through all realms, whether of nature, or human nature,
or the divine nature of the unseen world. This need not be elaborated
here, save in Sappho’s case. But it may be worth while to repeat some of
the evidence as to Sappho’s wide range of thought as it is seen in a few
typical instances. She loved the roses, the clover, and the anthrysc.
She loved the doves and the nightingales, and knew their colorings and
discerned their ways. But the unplucked apple on the top of the topmost
bough, the myriad ears of the listening night that hears what the girl
across the sea says and relays it right over the waves, the rosy-fingered
moon well above the horizon and launching light across the rolling sea
and over the fields of flowers, reveal even in the fragments which
are “small but roses” how surpassing were her instincts for nature’s
loftier meanings as well as its minute details and how exquisite were her
comparisons. As for the phases of love—they were her daily business,—and
each new couple whose wedding festivities she arranged in song gave her
new material. Where in all literature is there a finer example of the
union of human love along with insight into the soul of nature than in
the ode, _To Absent Anactoria_? (See p. 72).

As we have said, she knew the heart of the Greek bride and her dread
at the loss of her free virginity. Mother love, too, was never more
exquisitely portrayed than in the song we have quoted on pp. 27-28. But
the subject of woman’s love for woman is peculiarly her own. The finest
lines in all Sappho’s poetry are those descriptive of Anactoria in a poem
which we might call _Old Love is Best_ (E. 38, pp. 82-83 above).

Finished style, the γλαφυρὸς χαρακτήρ, as the Greek critics called
it, simple purity but effective luminosity and exquisite rarity of
expression, faultless constraint, fine taste in choosing appropriate
subjects, marvellous verbal economy, comprehensive power in single
words, fiery passion as well as austerity, richness and beauty, good
arrangement of words, assonance, alliteration, consonantal harmonies,
lingering vowel music and melody, produced often by the repetition
of long vowels, the soft Aeolic quality of the Greek sounds, swift
changes of nature and enchanting images, varied metres, but above all
else, charm, that greatest characteristic of Sappho so emphasized by
the ancients and moderns,—all these qualities she used that her songs
and hymns might be perfect. It is this simple natural perfection of
her art, like the “nothing too much” of the Parthenon frieze, that
makes her untranslatable, even though it is precisely the quality which
modern literature lacks but needs. Her nature was so great and her
genius so marvellous and her purposes so inexorable that, in attending
with her whole soul to her business as the poetic and musical caterer
for successive weddings upon an ancient and interesting island, she
incidentally made word-music and created thought-images which sounded the
depths and scaled the heights of human passion and which winged their way
to distant shores. The strains of her songs are beginning to be heard
everywhere and are ever growing clearer and sweeter in this present
timely century, the century of woman’s exaltation and glorification. Her
genius is concisely summed up by Watts-Dunton in his _Essay on Poetry_,
as follows: “_Never before these songs were sung, and never since, did
the human soul, in the grip of a fiery passion, utter a cry like hers;
and, from the executive point of view, in directness, in lucidity, in
that high, imperious verbal economy which only nature can teach the
artist, she has no equal, and none worthy to take the place of second._”

In the Lesbus and the Asia Minor of Sappho’s day as in those of Homer,
women were at their zenith and were allowed greater freedom in life
and speech than in later Athens where woman’s position had reached its
nadir, even though literature and art had attained their highest bloom.
In Athens women were cabin’d, cribb’d, confined. The more ancient Greeks
in general, however, even if their law made the wife the property of
her lord and master, appreciated their women and considered them close
to the divine, else they would not have appointed them to important
priesthoods and other offices and to be interpreters of the desires of
the gods and counsellors of their own political troubles. Sappho was a
twentieth century woman living in sixth century Lesbus, who could go
about town without a chaperon and take part in the most intellectual
and religious meetings. Of course she was “ni une sainte ni surtout
une prude,” as Reinach says. Rarely is a woman who is interesting a
“saint.” Reinach compares her also to Madame de Sévigné, who wrote to
her daughter “paroles de feu et de fièvre ... tout pareils à ceux de
l’amour.” What with her teaching, with her own writings, and with the
executive work of the _hetairiai_, those ancient Y. W. C. A.’s for the
cultivation of poetry and music, which Mackail has so aptly compared
with the Courts of Love which existed in Languedoc from the twelfth to
the fourteenth century, she was too noble and too busy to be devoted to
ignobler ways, falsely ascribed to her. But her love was deeper than
that of the schoolgirl in convent, conservatory of music, or literary
club. She was no Ruskin-like school-mistress presiding over a group of
virtuous but bold young women. She was respectable and respected. There
was in her sacred guild under the patronage of Aphrodite “l’étroite
et tendre intimité de jeunes filles de bonne naissance entre elles et
avec leurs dirigeantes” (Reinach). But we utterly reject to-day the
Athenian vaudeville idea of Sappho, who never should have been branded a
courtesan.

How the fine radiance Sappho shed on woman’s love for woman and on her
love of love and on the glory of pure and honorable marriage shines at
last across these twenty-five hundred years! Her figure stands there
on her isle. In itself it is white marble veined with gold. Much mud
from many lands has been flung against it. For centuries, almost for
millenniums, it has been soiled and stained. Even good men have come
to think of the stains as integral parts of the statue, and of the
gold as base metal. But the winds and rains of time have tired out the
soilers and washed the figure white and clean of all Attic and all later
defilings. It is all pure marble now, veined with warm gold. Something
that suggests the Pygmalion miracle is happening to it. The statue is
alive and luminous with its own beauty, grace, and power. Sappho’s poetry
deals with the eternal experiences of the human heart and carries with it
those touches which make the whole world kin. As T. G. Tucker says: “Love
and Sorrow are re-born with every human being. Time and civilisation make
little difference.”

    And not unhallowed was the page
    By wingèd Love inscribed, to assuage
    The pangs of vain pursuit;
    Love listening while the Lesbian Maid
    With finest touch of passion swayed
    Her own Aeolian lute.

              (WORDSWORTH, _Upon the Same
                 Occasion_, 1819)

NOTES AND BIBLIOGRAPHY

NOTES

(The dates given in the text with authors are generally those of
_floruit_, _i.e._ about the fortieth year.)

[1] Somewhere recently in a newspaper I saw these lines entitled, _They
Lived Too Soon_:

    I fear Cleopatra was wasted
    Way back in her misty old realm.
    As matters befell, she did fairly well
    But she’d have been great in a film.
    If Dido and Sappho were with us—
    They’re advertised widely, you see—
    And Helen of Troy—good gracious
    My boy, what movie successes they’d be.

[2] _Oxyrhynchus Papyri_, XV. 1787, frag. 4.

[3] Galen, _Protrep._, 2.

[4] _Classical Philology_, XVIII. 35 ff. (1923).

[5] Sir Edward Cook, _More Literary Recreations_, 1919, p. 205, quotes
Wharton with approval to the effect that Tennyson called Sappho “the
poet, implying her supremacy by the absence of any added epithet.”

[6] _Anth. Pal._, VII. 16.

[7] Athenaeus, _Deipnosophistae_ (Doctors at dinner), 596 b.

[8] _Odes_, IV. 9. 11.

[9] _Amatorius_, 18.

[10] Athenaeus, 598 b.

[11] _Loves_, 30.

[12] Lord Neaves, _The Greek Anthology_, p. 113.

[13] _Anth. Pal._, VII. 15.

[14] Fraenkel, _Inschriften von Pergamon_, I, p. 118, no. 198; _C. I. G._
3555.

[15] _Sappho und Simonides_, p. 41, 1.

[16] _Anth. Pal._, IX. 66.

[17] _Anth. Pal._, VII. 14.

[18] _Anth. Pal._, VII. 407.

[19] _Anth. Pal._, IX. 189. Cf. A. J. Butler, _Amaranth and Asphodel_,
Oxford, 1922, p. 195. The ending is “you shall fain Deem that Calliope
doth hymn the strain.”

[20] _Anth. Pal._, IX. 571.

[21] XXXV. 16.

[22] Cf. also Epigr. LXX, Jacobs, II, p. 25; Plut., _Amat._, XII, p. 42.

[23] P. 186 (1921).

[24] 280, pp. 817-818. Cf. also _Posthumous Essays_ in _Sat. Rev._, Feb.
21, 1914.

[25] Professor Scribner in _The Classical Weekly_ XV, 1921, p. 78, says
“there still is room for a work giving a complete critical treatment of
Sappho’s influence on ancient and modern literature down to our own time.”

[26] Athenaeus, 599 c; _Oxyr. Pap._, XV. 1800.

[27] Strabo, 618; Athenaeus, 85 c.

[28] Cf. Herodotus, II. 135; Schol. Plato, _Phaedrus_, 235 c; _Ox. Pap._,
XV. 1800. The papyrus gives Scamandrus, which is otherwise known as a
good Lesbian name, as well as Scamandronymus. Scamandrus like Suidas’
Scamon is an abbreviation or _Kosenamen_.

[29] _Her._, XV. 61.

[30] Confirmed by the new papyrus. The more correct form would be Clévis
(Κλεῦις or Κλεῖϊς) after the founder of Lesbus, who was named Κλεύας,
Strabo, 582.

[31] Cf. Edmonds, pp. 144-147.

[32] Hiller von Gaertringen, _Inschriften von Priene_, 18; for Erygyius
cf. also Diodorus, XVII. 81, 83; Arrian, III. 6, 5.

[33] The name occurs as a love-name on the interior of an Attic cylix
in the Metropolitan Museum of New York, signed by Hieron (480 B.C.),
published in _American Journal of Archaeology_, XXVII. 274 (1923). Near
a female figure dancing to the accompaniment of the double flute played
by a satyr is the inscription, “Beautiful Rhodopis.” Cf. also Lucian, _De
Saltatione_, 2.

[34] Cf. Poulsen, _Delphi_, London, 1920, pp. 31, 72, 205, 294.

[35] Edmonds’ first poetical translation is given in his _Sappho in
the Added Light of the New Fragments_, p. 8; but he gives a revised
prose version in the _Classical Review_, XXXIV. 5-6 (1920) and in _Lyra
Graeca_, I, p. 207.

[36] Solmsen in _Rhein. Mus._, LVI. 502, 1 (1901) gives arguments for the
spelling with double p.

[37] 599 c.

[38] γέγονε often means flourished, not “was born.” Those who put
Sappho’s birth as late as 610 forget this.

[39] Strabo, 617, also makes Sappho contemporary with Pittacus and
Alcaeus. Eusebius puts the _floruit_ of Sappho in the first year of the
forty-fifth Olympiad (599 B.C.). Edmonds, _Lyra Graeca_, I, p. 142,
adopts the reading Ol. 45, 2 (598 B.C.), but this would be rather the
date of her exile.

[40] The abbreviation E, is used throughout for Edmonds, _Lyra Graeca_,
vol. I.

[41] Cf. Prinz, _Funde aus Naukratis_, 1906, pp. 57 ff.

[42] II. 134.

[43] In another fragment (E. 35) Edmonds calls Sappho “an old bird,” but
this is a very dubious restoration based on only three preserved letters.

[44] _Flor._, XXIX. 58.

[45] Dioscorides in _Anth. Pal._, VII. 407 has Eresus; and coins and
Suidas give both towns. Cf. Wilamowitz, _Sappho und Simonides_, 23; Her.
II. 135 and references in Jacoby, _Das Marmor Parium_, 1904, p. 101.
Many sources call Sappho a Mytilenaean, Schol. to Pindar (E. p. 144);
Schol. Plato, _Phaedrus_, 235 c; Arist., _Rhet._, 1398 b; _Anth. Pal._,
VII. 17. Some scholars assume that there were two Sapphos, but the two
traditions can easily be reconciled by supposing that Sappho belonged
to both cities, born at Eresus but later living at Mytilene. Edmonds
thinks that Strabo would have mentioned Sappho when he is speaking of
Eresus (618), had he believed her to have been born there, but Strabo
omits many famous writers. The tradition of two Sapphos is found also in
Aelian, _Historical Miscellanies_, XII. 19 and in Suidas. Cf. the novel
_Beulah_ by Augusta Evans, pp. 216-218: “Do you think that Sappho’s
frenzy was established by the Leucadian leap? You confound the poetess
with a Sappho, who lived later, and threw herself into the sea from the
promontory of Leucate. Doubtless she too had ‘poetic idiosyncrasies,’ but
her spotless life, and I believe natural death, afford no indication of
an unsound intellect.”

[46] _Studies of the Greek Poets_, vol. I., pp. 307 ff. (American ed.)

[47] I. 9.

[48] Cf. _The Poet Loves of Sappho_ from the third book of _A Catalogue
of Things Relating to Love_, an elegiac poem by Hermesianax, translated
by J. Bailey.

[49] Athenaeus, 450 e.

[50] _Class. Phil._, XIII. 348 (1918).

[51] XVIII. 9.

[52] Edmonds, 82, p. 240.

[53] _Oxyrhynchus Papyri_, XV, 1922, 1800. Also now published in
Miller-Robinson, _The Songs of Sappho_.

[54] Lunák, _Quaestiones Sapphicae_, Kazan, 1888.

[55] Lucy Milburn, p. 21, makes Sappho say, “When Cleïs, I called her
for my mother, was two years old, I found myself a widow.” But we have
no such evidence, how old Cleïs was when her father died. Miss Milburn
(Letter XIX) is also quite wrong in translating “I would rather have
my little daughter know her own worth than to bequeath to her all the
treasures of Lydia, were they mine.”

[56] I. 30.

[57] Edmonds, 116 reads Εἴρηνα (peace) for Ἔραννα so that it is doubtful
if Erinna, the poetess who wrote poems worthy of Homer before her early
death at the age of nineteen, is really meant by Sappho. Most scholars
now date her long after Sappho’s time, some even as late as 350 B.C.

[58] Cf. _Jahrbuch_, XXV. 150 (1910).

[59] _A. J. P._, XXXIV. 106 (1913).

[60] _Anth. Pal._, XVI. 310.

[61] XVIII.

[62] _Odes_, I. 1. 36.

[63] Cf. _Anth. Pal._, VII. 14 and 17 for epigrams about Sappho’s grave.
Cf. Edmonds, 42 and 99. Tucker translates:

    As friends we’ll part:
    Win thee a younger bride:
    Too old, I lack the heart
    To keep thee at my side.

[64] My late colleague and dear friend, Kirby Flower Smith, made a
brilliant reconstruction of the story which he read several times in
public. It is to be deeply regretted that the manuscript has never been
printed. Cf. for the Menander fragment, F. G. Allinson’s _Menander_,
in _The Loeb Classical Library_, pp. 400-401. For fragments of Plato’s
_Phaon_, cf. Kock, _C. A. F._, I, p. 645. Cf. Servius on Virgil,
_Aeneid_, III. 274.

[65] Lucian for example, _Dialogues of the Dead_, 9, has Phaon carry
Aphrodite over in his boat from Chios.

[66] _Incred._, 49 in Apostolius, _Paroem._, II. 707.

[67] 596 b; “according to Nymphis in his _Voyage around Asia_, the
courtesan of Eresus who was a namesake of the other Sappho and lover of
the fair Phaon won great notoriety.” Cf. also Suidas, s. v. _Phaon_.

[68] Cf. Furtwängler-Reichhold, _Gr. Vas._, pl. 59; Milani, _Monumenti
scelti del R. Museo Arch. di Firenze_, pl. 3; Nicole, _Meidias_, pl. VI,
I. Cf. also on Phaon, Wilamowitz, _Sappho und Simonides_, pp. 33 ff.

[69] 69 d.

[70] Strabo, 452.

[71] Cf. Curtis, _A. J. A._, XXIV. 146 ff. (1920); Paribeni, _Boll.
d’Arte_, I. 104 (1921); F. Cumont, _Rassegna d’Arte_, VIII. 44 ff.
(1921); Leopold, _Mélanges d’Archéologie et d’Histoire_, XXXIX. pl. II.
181 ff. (1921); _Le Musée Belge_, XXVII. 15 ff. (1923), there connected
by Hubaux with the cult of the Thracian Cotyto. _Cf. Memoirs Am. Ac. in
Rome_, IV. 85 f., pl. XLV.

[72] For another version cf. G. Showerman’s _Ovid_ in _The Loeb Classical
Library_. A new translation by Marion Mills Miller, where the narrative
portions are in recitative and the frequent outbursts of emotion in
lyrical form, appears in Miller-Robinson, _The Songs of Sappho_.

[73] Countless translations have been made. Among a few, I mention
Philips (1711), Herbert (1713), Akenside’s paraphrase (1745), Fawkes
(1760), Merivale (1833), Elton (1814), Egerton (1815), Edinburgh Review
(1832), Palgrave (1854), Arnold (1869), Higginson (1871), Walhouse
(1877), Symonds (at least two versions), Swinburne, Thomas Davidson,
Marion Mills Miller (in _The Classics_ and also in his play _The Return
of Odysseus_, p. 82), Appleton, Fairclough (_The Raven_, V, 1904, p.
120), Easby Smith, Stobart (_The Glory that was Greece_, p. 119), Lawton,
Tucker, Petersen, Lawrence (_Classical Review_, XXXVI, 1922, p. 2),
Edmonds, William A. Drake (_Sewanee Review_, April 1923).

[74] στροῦθοι in l. 10 are birds of Venus, swans, or better doves, rather
than the dirty chatterers of our city streets, who never appear in Greek
art. Cf. Throop, _Wash. Univ. Studies_, IX 282 (1922); Aristophanes,
_Lysistrata_, 723 f.; Statius, _Silvae_, I. 2. Edmonds p. 183 reads the
dual and translates “thy two swans.” For swans drawing Aphrodite’s or
Cupid’s car, cf. Reinach, _Répertoire des Vases Peints_, I, pp. 57, 271.

[75] _Dem._, 38.

[76] _Iliad_, X. 90-95. Cf. also _Od._, XVII. 518-521. For Homer’s
influence on Sappho cf. Smyth, p. 230; H. L. Ebeling, in _The Classical
Weekly_, XVI. 195 ff. (1923).

[77] III. 152-158.

[78] Edmonds, pp. 186-7, makes the ingenious but very uncertain
suggestion that in line 7 a proper noun, Brocheo or Brochea,
corresponding to Catullus’ Lesbia, should be read and now translates:
“When I look on you, Brocheo, my speech comes short or fails me quite.”
Formerly he thought that the poem was sent by the banished Sappho at
the age of eighteen to some beloved girl friend soon after her arrival
in Sicily in 596 B.C., but Sappho was older than eighteen in 596, and
Edmonds now makes an entirely different emendation of the last line, “but
now that I am poor, I must fain be content ...” meaning “beggars can’t be
choosers.” But the reading is uncertain and I do not believe that Sappho
was poor, nor do I agree with Miss Patrick that the words do not describe
love at all.

[79] For such head-cloths cf. the Latin word _struppus_ and the festival
at Falerii, called _struppearia_, Dion. Hal., XI. 39 and Poulsen,
_Etruscan Tomb Paintings_, p. 23. Edmonds’ new reading is very uncertain;
for his previous reading and poetical version cf. _Sappho in the Added
Light of the New Fragments_, p. 28.

[80] I keep Bergk’s reading, “Foolish woman, pride not thyself on a
ring.” Edmonds changes the text and translates, “But come, be not so
proud of a ring.”

[81] Cf. Poulsen, in _Jahrbuch_, XXI. 209 ff. (1906); _Die Bronzen von
Olympia_, IV., pl. VII. 74.

[82] There are many other poetical versions by Merivale, Symonds, F.
Tennyson, Tucker, Cox, Edmonds, etc. For an absurd interpretation _Sappho
in the Rain_, cf. _Wiener Studien_, XXXVIII. 176 ff. (1916).

[83] Poetical translations by Merivale, Arnold, Appleton, F. Tennyson,
Symonds, Edmonds, Miller, Percy Mackaye, etc.

[84] _Sappho in the Added Light of the New Fragments_, p. 25, but in
_Lyra Graeca_, I, p. 253, he changes his previous emendation and reads a
text which I consider very uncertain, “and pours down a sweet shrill song
from beneath his wings, when the Sun-god illumines the earth with his
downshed flame outspread.”

[85] _Praec. Con._, 48; _Qu. Conv._, III. 1. 2.

[86] _Flor._, IV. 12.

[87] For Swinburne’s expansion cf. p. 210; cf. also Percy Mackaye in
_Sappho and Phaon_. Bliss Carman has evolved the following from Sappho’s
one line:

    I loved thee, Atthis, in the long ago
    When the great oleanders were in flower
    In the broad herded meadows full of sun.
    And we would often at the fall of dusk
    Wander together by the silver stream,
    When the soft grass-heads were all wet with dew
    And purple misted in the fading light,
    And joy I knew and sorrow at thy voice,
    And the superb magnificence of love—
    The loneliness that saddens solitude,
    And the sweet speech that makes it durable,
    The bitter longing and the keen desire,
    The sweet companionship through quiet days
    In the slow ample beauty of the world
    And the unutterable glad release
    Within the temple of the holy night;
    O Atthis, how I loved thee long ago
    In that fair perished summer by the sea.

[88] Cf. Miss Shields, “_Lesbos in the Trojan War_,” in _The Classical
Jour._, XIII. 670 ff. (1918); _The Cults of Lesbos_ (Johns Hopkins
University Diss.) 1917.

[89] Cf. _Transactions and Proceedings of the American Philological
Association_, LIII. xvi (1922).

[90] For Mnesidice Edmonds would now read Anactoria. There is a good
metrical translation by G. M. Whicher in Manatt, _Aegean Days_, London,
1913, p. 286.

[91] _Odes_, I. 3. 22.

[92] O’Hara renders as follows:

    Gold is the son of Zeus,
      Immortal, bright;
    Nor moth nor worm may eat it,
      Nor rust tarnish.

    So are the Muse’s gifts
      The offspring fair,
    That merit from high heaven
      Youth eternal.

[93] These may be vases in the form of an _astragalus_ or knuckle-bone,
two or three of which in clay are to be seen in museums, or they may be
bowls or cups with the bottom rounded like one end of a knuckle-bone.
They might be bowls with a mid-boss in the form of a knuckle-bone. For
such gold-bossed golden bowls as Pollux (VI, 98) mentions in the context
of this quotation see the recently acquired beautiful gold bowl with
a Corinthian inscription of about Sappho’s time in the Boston Museum,
which, however, is probably a modern forgery. Cf. _Bulletin, Boston
Museum of Fine Arts_, XX. 65 ff. (1922).

[94] German and Austrian scholars have failed to see the lovely lyrical
literature in this delightful ballad. Aly considers it only the beginning
of a longer ode; and I cannot agree with him that it does not fit in with
what we know of Sappho who often expresses her loneliness in the absence
of her companions. Even if the thought is of love, we must not expect
consistency in a high-strung Aeolian woman. Fragments such as E. 152,
159, 167 may have been in a totally different context. But I do not mean
to say that the ballad certainly refers to Sappho herself. The context
is gone and it is not even definitely assigned to Sappho. Some of the
editions seem to have contained it, but much anonymous literature has
been included in the Sapphic _corpus_ as in that of Plato or Hippocrates.
However, as it is one of the prettiest and most perfect pieces and
quite in Sappho’s style and metre and thought, I consider it genuine.
Ovid (_Sappho to Phaon_, 155 ff.) seems to know the lines. Ruthlessly
to insert a negative in the text (“Alone I do not sleep”) as does Lunák
(_Wiener Studien_, XL, 1918, p. 98) spoils the literary quality and makes
it insipid. How much suggestive concision in those seventeen words in
four verses (four of them small particles), but what vast and profound
humanity; silence, solitude, obscurity, waiting, anxiety, sympathy
of nature. How the strong and rapid description catches our deepest
thoughts. Such things disprove the arguments against its genuineness by
Wilamowitz, _Textgeschichte_, p. 33; and _Sappho und Simonides_, p. 75.
Cf. Münscher, _Hermes_, LIV. 29, 4 (1919).

[95] _Scribner’s Magazine_, September 1905, p. 304.

[96] On the whole tradition of the wedding song cf. Mangelsdorff,
_Das lyrische Hochzeitsgedicht bei den Griechen und Römern_, 1913;
Reitzenstein, _Hermes_, XXXV. 95 ff. (1900); Croiset, _Journal des
Savants_, July 1914; Girard, _Le Mariage de Hector_, _Comptes-rendus Ac.
des Sc. et Belles-lettres_, 1914, pp. 658-9.

[97] I. 4.

[98] Cf. Robinson, _The Classical Weekly_, V. 68 (1911).

[99] In this account of Sappho’s wedding-songs I am much indebted to
Koechly, _Akademische Vorträge und Reden_, Zürich, 1859, pp. 153-217.

[100] For Usener’s interesting conjecture about Lesbian marriage customs
based on this fragment cf. _Kleine Schriften_, IV, pp. 308 ff.

[101] An excellent modern musical version will be found in A. A. Stanley,
_Greek Themes in Modern Musical Settings_.

[102] For the history of dialogue in Greek epigrams and examples of
stones speaking with the passer-by and for sepulchral symbolism as in
the Pelagon epigram cf., D. M. Robinson, “Two Epitaphs from Sardis,” in
_Anatolian Studies presented to Sir William Mitchell Ramsay_, Manchester,
1923, pp. 341-353.

[103] For a bronze in the British Museum supposed to represent the
reclining Sappho cf. Walters, _Cat. of Bronzes_, London, 1899, 203.

[104] Pollux, IX. 84.

[105] Cf. Bernoulli, _Griechische Ikonographie_, pp. 59-72; _Cat. of
Coins in the Brit. Mus., Lesbos_, pl. XXXIX; Miss Patrick, pp. 73, 81;
Jacoby, _Marmor Parium_, p. 101; Forrer, _Les Portraits de Sappho sur
les monnaies_, in _Revue Belge de numismatique_, 1901, pp. 413 ff.;
_Zeitschrift für Numismatik_, IX. 114, pl. IV.

[106] _Meisterwerke_, p. 103.

[107] _Greek Hero Cults and Ideas of Immortality_, Oxford, 1921, p. 367.

[108] Walters, _Cat. of Terra-cottas in the British Museum_, London,
1903, pl. 19.

[109] The ancient representations of Sappho on vases have been well
studied by Jahn, _Darstellungen griechischer Dichter auf Vasenbildern_,
_Abh. d. Sächs. Ges. d. Wiss._, VIII. 699 ff. (1861); Comparetti,
_Museo Italiano di Antichita classica_, II, 41-80, pls. III-VI (1888);
Cipollini, pp. 319-344; Wilamowitz, _Sappho und Simonides_, pp. 40 ff.
Little new material has come to light, but the individual vases have
been better interpreted in the later publications which we cite in other
notes. Aly omits the busts, though he mentions the vases, but he calls
the Steinhauser fragment a clay relief and fails to recognize that it is
part of a vase.

[110] Cf. Jahn, pl. III; Comparetti, _op. cit._, pl. IV;
Furtwängler-Reichhold, _Gr. Vas._, II, pp. 21 ff., 308 ff., pl. 64;
Steiner, _Sappho_, pp. 54-5; Perrot et Chipiez, _Histoire de l’art_, X,
p. 624, pl. 15; Beazley, _J. H. S._, XLII, 1922, p. 91; Pfuhl, _Malerei
und Zeichnung der Griechen_, Munich, 1923, p. 399; Hoppin, _Handbook of
Attic Red-figured Vases_, I, p. 461. Hoppin wrongly rejects Furtwängler’s
attribution to the factory of Brygus; and wrongly identifies Hauser’s
“Frau Meisterin” with Beazley’s Niobid Painter. Perrot (p. 626) says that
the Munich vase belongs to a contemporary of Duris but that we shall
never know the painter; but on p. 634 he says: “we would be tempted to
add the vase to the Berlin amphora painter.”

[111] Comparetti, _op. cit._, pl. III, 1; De Witte, _Antiq. de l’hôtel
Lambert_, no. 32, pl. III; Reinach, _Répertoire des Vases_, I, p. 524.
Formerly in the Dzialinsky collection at Paris.

[112] Comparetti, _op. cit._, pl. III, 2; Steiner, pp. 44 ff.; Cipollini,
p. 328; De Courten, p. III; Reinach _op. cit._, I, p. 525.

[113] Comparetti, _op. cit._, pl. V; Cipollini, p. 331; De Courten, p.
95; _Röm. Mitt._ III, 1888, pl. IX; _Jahreshefte_, VIII. 35-40 (1905);
Nicole, _Meidias_, pl. VII; Reinach, _op. cit._, I, p. 526.

[114] _B. C. H._, IV. 373 (1880); Cipollini, pp. 337-8.

[115] Cf. Comparetti, pl. VI; Steiner, pp. 16 ff.; Edmonds, _Class.
Quart._, XVI. 1 ff. (1922), where he fails to cite _Jahreshefte_, VIII.
40 (1905).

[116] J. C. Hoppin, _Handbook of Attic Red-figured Vases_, Harvard
University Press, 1919, p. 410.

[117] Murray, _White Athenian Vases in the British Museum_, London, 1896,
pl. XVII; Pfuhl, _op. cit._, II, p. 546, fig. 527.

[118] _Ann. d. Inst._, XXX, 1858, p. 42, pl. B; Cipollini, pp. 339-341.

[119] Cf. Cipollini, pp. 343-4.

[120] Cf. Nicole, _Meidias_, Geneva, 1908, pls. III and VI. I cannot
agree with Nicole in dating Meidias as late as 375-350 B.C. He belongs
to the time of the Peloponnesian War, 431-404 B.C. This fatal war did
not stop the Athenians from producing during war times such great works
of art as the Erechtheum, beautiful vases and statues. Cf. also note 68
above.

[121] Cf. Pfuhl, _op. cit._, p. 566, III, Fig. 557; Pellegrini, _Museo
Civico di Bologna, Catalogo dei Vasi Greci_, pp. 133-135, Fig. 77.

[122] _N. H._, XXXV. 141. Brunn, _Kunstgeschichte_, p. 299, identifies him
with a bronze-sculptor, Leon, but we are equally ignorant about him.

[123] _Anth. Plan._, 310 (Edmonds, p. 173); Tatian, _Adv. Gr._, 130.

[124] Cf. Hermann, _Denkmäler der Malerei des Altertums_, pl. 28; Pfuhl,
_op. cit._, p. 734; Lippold, _Röm. Mitt._, XXXIII. 71 ff. (1918).

[125] For replicas of the Sappho cf. Rizzo, _Rev. Arch._, 1901, pp.
301 ff. The latest and best discussion is by Percy Gardner, _J. H. S._
XXXVIII. 10 ff. (1918). For a copy of Silanion’s Corinna at Compiègne
cf. _Rev. Arch._ XXXII. 161 (1894); XXXVI 169 (1898); Furtwängler,
_Meisterwerke_, pp. 99 ff. would class many of the so-called Sapphos as
Aphrodite and thinks that those which are copies of fifth century art may
represent the Aphrodite of Phidias which was to be seen in later days in
the portico of Octavia at Rome (Pliny, _N. H._ XXXVI, 15).

[126] II. 4. 57.

[127] _Anth. Pal._, VII. 15.

[128] Cf. Fraenkel, _Inschriften von Pergamon_, 198. According to _C.
I. G._ 3555 Jucundus and Cyriac of Ancona still saw the inscription at
Pergamum.

[129] _Ecphr._, 69-71.

[130] On the Albani bust cf. _Jahrbuch_, V. 152 ff. (1890), pl. III;
Morcelli, Fea, Visconti, _Descr. della Villa Albani_, 1033; Schneider,
_Jb. d. Ak. Kunstsammlungen_, XII, 72 ff. (1891); Arndt, Brunn-Bruckmann,
_Griechische und Römische Porträts_, pl. 147-148; for the bust in the
Pitti cf. Arndt, pls. 149-150; for that in the Uffizi, pls. 145-146;
cf. also Cipollini, pp. 345-356. On the Biscari and Naples busts cf.
Rizzo, _Rev. Arch._ XXXIX, 1901, pp. 301-307, pls. XXI, XXII. On the
Constantinople head cf. Mendel’s _Cat._ no. 626.

[131] _Art and Archaeology_, VI. 277 ff. (1917), Robinson, _ibid._,
pp. 285 ff. I have omitted mention of many other ancient works of art
wrongly supposed to represent Sappho, such as Stackelberg, _Die Gräber
der Hellenen_, Berlin, 1837, pl. LXX, called Sappho with a female friend
sitting in her lap, merely because of the book-roll.

[132] _Arch. Anzeiger_, XXVII. 124 (1912).

[133] Cipollini, p. 405, pictures Magni’s Saffo; p. 409 Confalonieri’s
Saffo; p. 413 Pradier’s Sapho; p. 417 Pradier’s standing Sapho; p. 421
Barrias’ painting; p. 425 Gleyre’s couch of Sappho. There is a bust of
Sappho by Canova in Turin.

[134] Cf. Reinach, in _Revue Archéologique_, XX, 2. 433-434 (1912), X, 2.
392 (1919).

[135] Cf. for influence of Pamphos, a mythical poet earlier than Homer,
Pausanias, IX. 29, 8; of Homer, _Neue Jahrbücher_, XXXIII 227 (1914); De
Courten, pp. 74-76.

[136] E. 114 influenced by _Theogony_, 3 ff.; E. 122 by _Works and Days_,
568; E. 81 by _Theogony_, 121.

[137] Theognis, 1017.

[138] Schol. Hesiod, _Works and Days_, 428.

[139] Athenaeus, 554 b, 639 a.

[140] Porphyrio on Horace, _Satires_, II. 1. 30, “ostendit Sapphonem et
Alcaeum volumina sua loco sodalium habuisse.”

[141] Wilamowitz, _Textgeschichte der Bukoliker_, p. 88.

[142] III. 153 f.; VI. 1181.

[143] Wilamowitz, _Sappho und Simonides_, p. 58, 2. There is an enormous
literature on Catullus’ relation to Sappho and much discussion of textual
matters. Cf. for the most recent _Bursian Jahresbericht_, CLXXVIII, 1919,
p. 46. Compare E. 32, 147 and 149 with Catullus LXII, 26, 35; E. 151
with LXII, 61; E. 148 with LXII. In XXXV, 17-18 we have “Ignosco tibi,
Sapphica puella Musa doctior.”

[144] _The Classical Quarterly_, XVI. 1-14 (1922).

[145] IV. 9. 10.

[146] II. 13. 24.

[147] Cf. Ogle, _A. J. P._, XLIII. 55 ff. (1922). For Sappho’s influence
on Horace cf. Pasquali, _Orazio lirico_, 1920. Most of the literature on
the subject is not fit to read. Cf. Richard F. Burton’s _The Book of the
Thousand Nights and a Night_, Terminal Essay, X, p. 208, for a filthy,
wrong interpretation of the word ‘mascula’. It is surprising to find as
great a modern scholar as Bloch, _Die Prostitution_, Berlin, 1912, I,
p. 383, saying in his discussion of Homosexuality, ἀσέλγεια τριβακή,
“Schon in früher Zeit galten Sparta und die Insel Lesbos als Orte, wo
die weibliche Liebe besonders verbreitet war und an letzterem Ort in
der Dichterin Sappho eine weltberühmte Vertreterin fand.” Cf. also on
_tribadie_ in Lesbos Bloch, _Der Ursprung der Syphilis_, II, pp. 586-588,
where he thinks that he gives definite proof that Sappho was “eine echte
Tribade.” It is lamentable that as great a literary critic as J. A.
Symonds should say that “Sappho gave this female passion an eminent place
in Greek Literature;” see J. A. Symonds, _A Problem in Greek Ethics,
An Inquiry into the Phenomenon of Sexual Inversion_, London, 1901, pp.
70-72. Fortunately the monograph was issued only in a very limited
edition.

[148] _Silvae_, V. 3. 154.

[149] VII. 69.

[150] _Symp._, VII. 8. 2.

[151] XIX. 9. 4.

[152] _Loves_, 30.

[153] _On Paid Companions_, 36; _Pictures_, 18.

[154] On the influence of Sappho on Himerius cf. Rizzo, _Saggio su Imerio
il sofista_, in _Riv. Fil. Cl._, XXVI 513-16 (1898). In _Orations_, I. 4
the words τὸ λέχος Ὁμήρου were incomprehensible and Edmonds still omits
Ὁμήρου, but the reading is undoubtedly correct and the significance is
now apparent from the new epithalamium of Hector and Andromache.

[155] XV. 35, 36, 37.

[156] I. 16, 19, 20.

[157] Cf. _Anth. Pal._, V. 246; VII. 14, 15, 16, 17, 407, 718; IX. 26,
66, 184, 189, 190, 506, 521, 571; XVI. 310.

[158] V. 246. I give a literal translation and Greek texts of all
epigrams which mention Sappho in Miller-Robinson, _Songs of Sappho_.

[159] Cf. _A. J. P._, XXXVIII. 66 (1917).

[160] Photius only cites the selections made by Sopater the Sophist,
among which in his second book he included some quotations from Sappho’s
eighth book.

[161] _Vita dell’ Imperatore Alessio o Alesseide_, XV.

[162] IV. 25.

[163] His comment on Martial, VII. 67 is “Tribadem autem fuisse carmen
indicat quod extat.”

[164] There is an interesting item in Natales Comes, _Mythologiae
sive explicationes fabularum_, Venice, 1551, Book V, c. XVI, p. 286,
“Scriptum reliquit Sappho, Adonim mortuum fuisse a Venere inter lactucas
depositum.” According to Athenaeus 69 d, Cratinus had Aphrodite conceal
Phaon among the “fair wild-lettuces.”

[165] In my library I have a copy dated 1696 of Anne Le Fèvre, _Les
Poësies d’Anacréon et de Sapho_. This, however, is a second edition and
the first was in 1681.

[166] Welcker, _Kleine Schriften_: II, pp. 80 ff., _Sappho von einem
herrschenden Vorurteil befreit_. Goethe occupied himself much with this
article. For references in Goethe to Sappho cf. W. J. Keller, _Goethe’s
Estimate of the Greek and Latin Writers_, Madison, Wis., 1916, p. 51.

[167] Sauer, _Grillparzer’s sämtliche Werke_, Stuttgart, 1892, XIX, pp.
71 ff. For source of _Sappho_ cf. _J. Engl. Germ. Phil._, XXII, 503 ff.
(1923).

[168] Cf. Jean Giraud, _D’Après Sapho. Variations sur un thème éternel_,
in _Revue d’Histoire littéraire de la France_, XXVII, 1920, pp. 194-203.
I have added considerable material not there, since this article deals
only with the second ode. I am indebted in this chapter to my learned
colleagues, Professor Henry Carrington Lancaster and Professor Gilbert
Chinard, for helpful suggestions.

[169] _Traduction de quelques autres epigrammes Grecs, Œuvres de
Ronsard_, Tome 2, Paris, 1889, p. 56.

[170] The date is often wrongly given as 1682. In my copy, which is a
second edition (Lyon 1696), it is stated that permission to publish the
book was granted to Damoiselle Anne Le Fèvre on June 10, 1681, all rights
to continue for six years. “Le dit livre a esté achevé d’imprimer pour
la première fois le 1, Decembre 1681.” My copy gives only the first two
odes and the epigrams on Pelagon and Timas and quotes an inaccurate Latin
prose translation of the first ode by her father. He has made several
emendations, as in ode II, l. 7, ὡς βρόγχον, “nihil vocis pervenit ad
fauces meas,” as good a suggestion as Edmonds’ creation of an unknown
proper name Brocheo.

[171] Cf. _Œuvres de Fontenelle_ (Paris 1818), II, pp. 187, 188.

[172] My copy is the thirteenth edition published by Bertrand, Paris,
1818. The idea of a manuscript of Sappho found at Herculaneum is repeated
by Lucy Milburn and Percy Mackaye.

[173] My copy is dated London 1810 and is anonymous, _Poésies de Sapho
suivies de différentes Poésies dans le même genre_. It contains also _Les
Tourterelles de Zelmis_ and the _Poésies Erotiques_ of M. de Parny, who
was such an admirer of Sappho. The adaptations are the same as those of
Sauvigny. Why this edition is anonymous, I do not know.

[174] XII, p. 181 ed. Furne, Jouvet et Cie., Paris.

[175] My edition is Giguet et Michaud, Paris, 1805. This book with its
long notes and citations, though little known, is important for the
student of Sappho’s influence.

[176] Cf. Wilamowitz, _Sappho und Simonides_, pp. 63-69 on _Chansons de
Bilitis_, pp. 71-78 on Lesbian Love.

[177] Cf. Edwin M. Cox, p. 5, where he quotes Barnabe Barnes’
_Parthenophil and Parthenophe_, 1593:

    O, that I could make her, whom I love best,
    Find in a face, with misery wrinkled,
    Find in a heart, with sighs over ill-pined,
        Her cruel hatred.

In Davison’s _Poetical Rhapsody_, 1602, are some Sapphics by the
mysterious “A. W.” Here is a sample:

    Hatred eternal, furious revenging,
    Merciless raging, bloody persecuting;
    Slanderous speeches, odious revilings;
        Causeless abhorring.

In 1601 Campion and Roseter, _Lyrics, Elegies_, etc., give a clumsy
example of Sapphic verse. In 1614 a tract called _The Martyrdom of Saint
George of Cappadocia_ contains at the end some “Sapphicks” which resemble
the real Sappho only in having the same number of syllables to the verse.
Cox and all others, so far as I know, fail to mention Sir Philip Sidney’s
translation of the second ode.

[178] Cf. W. C. Lawton, _Sappho_ with some new translations, _Lippincott
Magazine_, 77, 583; W. A. R. Kerr, “_Sappho’s Soliloquy_,” in _Canadian
Magazine_, 12, 426; E. Saltus, “_Sappho_” in _Lippincott’s Magazine_, 51,
503; M. Thompson, “_The Secret of Sappho_,” in _The Atlantic Monthly_,
73, 365; M. Gray, “_Sappho_,” in _Argosy_, 51, 203; _Athenaeum_, 1889,
2, 56; F. B. Harte, “_Sappho of Green Springs_,” in _Lippincott’s
Magazine_, 45, 627; _Democratic Review_, 7, 18; Higginson, in _The
Atlantic Monthly_, 28, 83; G. Hill, in _Appleton’s Journal_, 6, 158,
179; Mrs. Hamilton in _Harper’s_, 56, 177 (has nothing to do with the
real Sappho); M. Thompson, “_Sappho’s Apple_,” in _The Independent_,
53, 416; A. Chisholm, in _Canadian Magazine_, 15, 453; Reinach, _Révue
Archéologique_, XXIV, 1914, 2, pp. 336-337; IX, 1919, p. 204; X, 1919, p.
225; H. I. R., _Fragment of a Poem by Sappho done into English verse_, in
_The Literary Digest_, 48, 1493; “_Real Personal Character of the Poetess
Sappho_,” in _The Review of Reviews_, 46, 107-8; Swinburne, “_Sappho_,”
in _The Living Age_, 280, 817-8; W. L. Courtney, “_Sappho and Aspasia_,”
in _The Fortnightly Review_, _N. S._ 91 (1912), 479-88; “_Sappho from the
Dust_,” in _The Literary Digest_, 48, 1362-3; M. M. Miller, “Sappho’s
Songs of Exile,” in _The Independent_, 87, 344; _New York Nation_, 1914,
1, p. 602; Aldington, “_Letters to Unknown Women_,” in _The Dial_, 64,
430-1; W. A. Percy, _Sappho in Leukas and Other Poems_, New Haven, 1915;
Horton, “_New Sappho Fragment in English Verse_,” in _The Dial_, 61, 179;
Michael Monahan, “_Sappho_,” in _All’s Well or the Mirror Repolished_,
II, 1922, pp. 87 ff.; Robinson, in _The Baltimore Sun_, Jan. 22, 1922.

[178a] In _Charmides_ he says: “Or from the Lesbian waters plucked
drowned Sappho’s golden quill.”

[179] See _Pericles and Aspasia_, Letters 47, 48, 82, 95, 149, 150, 152,
153.

[180] _Idyls of the King, Lancelot and Elaine_, 1003-1004. Not in
Mustard, _Classical Echoes in Tennyson_, New York, 1904.

[181] _Lyrics and Sonnets_ (Edinburgh, 1903), p. 66.

[182] Miller-Robinson, _Songs of Sappho_.

[183] Litz, _Father Tabb_, Johns Hopkins Press, 1923, p. 168.

[184] _Collected Poems_, New York, 1922, pp. 227-228.

[185] _Art and Archaeology_, XII. 217 (1921).

[186] _Sappho in Leukas and other Poems_, Yale University Press, 1915.

[187] _Art and Archaeology_, XV. 13 (1923).

[188] J. U. Nicolson, _King of the Black Isles_, p. 3, Chicago, 1924.

SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY OF RECENT BOOKS ON SAPPHO

ALY, see Pauly-Wissowa.

BASCOUL, J. M. F., _La chaste Sappho de Lesbos et le mouvement féministe
à Athènes au IVe siècle av. J. C._ Paris. 1911.

BASCOUL, J. M. F., _La chaste Sappho de Lesbos et Stésichore. Les
prétendues amies de Sappho_. Paris, 1913.

BERGK, TH., _Poetae Lyrici Graeci_. Vol. III, Leipzig, 1914.

BETHE, E., _Griechische Lyrik_. Berlin, 1920.

BRANDT, LIDA R., _Social Aspects of Greek Life in the Sixth Century B.C._
Philadelphia, 1921.

BRANDT, P., _Sappho, ein Lebensbild aus den Frühlingstagen
altgriechischer Dichtung_. Leipzig, 1905.

BUNNER, ANNE, see Wharton.

CARMAN, BLISS, _Sappho, One Hundred Lyrics_. Boston, 1904.

CARROLL, M., _Greek Women_. Philadelphia, 1907.

CHRIST, W. VON—SCHMID, W., _Geschichte der griechischen Litteratur_.
Munich, 1912.

COX, E. M., _Sappho and the Sapphic Metre in English_. London, 1916.
_Poems of Sappho._ London, New York, 1924.

CIPOLLINI, A., _Saffo_. Milan, 1890.

CROISET, A., _Histoire de la Litterature Grecque_ (vol. II, pp. 226-244).
Paris, 1898.

DE COURTEN, MARIA L. G., _Saffo_ (Supplementi ad “Aegyptus”). Milan, 1921.

DIEHL, E., _Supplementum lyricum_[3] (Kleine Texte, 33-34). Bonn, 1917.

EDMONDS, J. M., _The New Fragments of Alcaeus, Sappho and Corinna_.
Cambridge, 1909.

EDMONDS, J. M., _Sappho in the Added Light of the New Fragments_.
Cambridge, 1912. (Has some poetical translations.)

EDMONDS, J. M., _Lyra Graeca_, I, in _The Loeb Classical Library_. New
York, 1922. [Abbreviated as E.]

EDMONDS, J. M., Various articles in _Classical Review_, _Classical
Quarterly_ and _Cambridge Philological Society’s Proceedings_, from 1909
to 1922.

FARNELL, G. S., _Greek Lyric Poetry_. London, 1891.

GLASER, R., _Sappho, die zehnte Muse_ (Südwest-deutsche Monatsblätter).
1916.

GRENFELL, B. P., and HUNT, A. S., _The Oxyrhynchus Papyri_. Vols. I-XV,
especially I, X, and XV. London, 1898. 1922.

HIGGINSON, T. W., _Atlantic Essays_. Boston, 1871.

LATINI, GIOV., _Saffo, Mimnermo e Catullo_. Viterbo, 1914.

LAVAGNINI, B., _I Lirici Greci_. Turin, 1923.

LOBEL, E., _Sappho_. Oxford, 1925.

MACKAIL, J. W., _Lectures on Greek Poetry_ (pp. 83-112). London and New
York, 1911.

MEABE, T., _Saffo_ (Spanish translation). Paris, 1913.

MERINO, A. FERNANDEZ, _Estudios de Literatura Griega. Safo ante la
crítica moderna_.[3] Madrid, 1884.

MEUNIER, M., _Sappho, Traduction nouvelle de tous les fragments_. (Has
not recent fragments.) Paris, 1911.

MILBURN, LUCY MCD., _Lost Letters from Lesbos_. Chicago, 1902.

MILLER, MARION MILLS, and ROBINSON, D. M. _The Songs of Sappho_ (Greek
text of all Sappho, of all the epigrams about her, of Erinna, of the new
papyrus biography of Sappho, etc., prepared and annotated and literally
translated by D. M. Robinson.) Introduction on _The Recovery and
Restoration of the Egyptian Relics of Sappho_ and a critical _Memoir of
the Real Sappho_ by D. M. Robinson. Introduction by M. M. Miller on the
Sapphic Metre, and Poetical Adaptations of Sappho. New York, 1924.

MUSTARD, W. P., _Classical Echoes in Tennyson_. New York, 1904.

O’HARA, J. M., _The Poems of Sappho_. Portland, 1910.

OSBORN, PERCY, _Poems of Sappho_. London, 1909.

PASELLA, PIETRO, _I Frammenti di Alceo e di Saffo tradotti_. Rome, 1922.

PATRICK, MARY MILLS, _Sappho and the Island of Lesbos_. Boston, 1914.
Reprinted, 1924.

PAULY-WISSOWA,—KROLL-WITTE, _Real-Encyclopädie_. Exhaustive article on
Sappho by Aly. Stuttgart, 1920.

PETERSEN, W., _The Lyric Songs of the Greeks. Translated into English
Verse_. Boston, 1918.

REINACH, TH., _Pour mieux connaître Sappho (Académie des Inscriptions et
Belles-Lettres)_. Paris, 1911.

ROBINSON, D. M. _See_ Miller-Robinson.

SCOLLARD, C. L.,—JONES, T. S., _Sapphics_. Clinton, N. Y., 1910.

SITZLER, J., _Bibliography on Sappho_ in Bursian (Kroll) _Jahresbericht
über die Fortschritte der klassischen Altertumswissenschaft_. CXXXIII,
1907, pp. 104 ff., pp. 176 ff., CLXXVIII, 1919, pp. 46 ff.

SMITH, J. S. EASBY, _Songs of Sappho_. Washington, D. C., 1891.

SMYTH, H. W., _Greek Melic Poets_. London, 1900.

STACPOOLE, H. D. V., _Sappho, a new rendering_. London 1920.

STANLEY, ALBERT A., _Greek Themes in Modern Musical Settings_. (Includes,
pp. 1-68, Music to Percy Mackaye’s _Sappho and Phaon_). _University of
Michigan Humanistic Studies_, XV, 1923.

STEBBING, W., _Greek and Latin Anthology thought into English Verse_.
Part III, _Greek Epigrams and Sappho_. Adaptations and Expansions of
Sappho. None of the new fragments included. London, 1923.

STEINER, B., _Sappho_. Jena, 1907.

STORER, EDWARD, _Sappho_ (_Poets Translation Series_). London, 1916.

TUCKER, T. G., _Sappho_. Melbourne, Australia, 1914.

TUTIN, J. R., _Sappho, The Queen of Song_. London and Boston, 1914.

VIVIEN, RENÉE [pseudonym of an American lady, Pauline Tam, 1877-1909, who
lived in Paris], _Sappho, traduction nouvelle avec le texte grec_. Paris,
1903. Reprinted in the anonymous _Sappho et huit poetesses grecques.
Texte et reduction_. Paris, 1909.

WAGNER, R., _Übersetzung der grösseren Bruchstücke Sapphos im Versmass
des Originals nebst erläuternden Bemerkungen_. 1916.

WALTHER, W., _Sappho aus dem Griechischen übersetzt_. Leipzig, 1914.

WAY, A. S., _Sappho and The Vigil of Venus_. London, 1920.

WAY, A. S., _Sappho_. London, 1923.

WHARTON, H. T., _Sappho, memoir, text, selected renderings_ and a
literal translation (with a collection also of poetic translations and
paraphrases by various authors). First edition, London, 1885. Second
edition, London and Chicago, 1887. Third edition, London, 1895. Fourth
edition, 1898, and fifth edition, London, 1907. First edition without the
revisions of later editions reprinted by Brentano, New York, in 1920,
with metrical paraphrases of Sappho by Anne Bunner.

WILAMOWITZ-MÖLLENDORFF, ULRICH VON, _Textgeschichte der griechischen
Lyriker_. Berlin, 1901.

WILAMOWITZ-MÖLLENDORFF und SCHUBART, _Berliner Klassikertexte_, Heft V.
Berlin, 1907.

WILAMOWITZ-MÖLLENDORFF, ULRICH VON, _Sappho und Simonides_ (with
translations). Berlin, 1913.

WILAMOWITZ-MÖLLENDORFF, ULRICH VON, _Griechische Verskunst_. Berlin, 1921.

WRIGHT, F. A., _Feminism in Greek Literature from Homer to Aristotle_.
New York, 1923.

KEY TO ILLUSTRATIONS

    PLATE

     2. PITTACUS, LORD OF LESBUS. See text page 22.

     3. MYTILENE. See text page 23.

     4. THE STORY OF PHAON. See text page 40.

     5. THE BEAUTIFUL PHAON. See text page 40.

     6. THE LEUCADIAN PROMONTORY. See text page 40.

     7. ROMAN FRESCO. See text page 42.

     8. A PAPYRUS OF THE THIRD CENTURY A.D. See text page 46.

     9. A CYLIX BY SOTADES. See text page 93.

    10. A GREEK COIN FROM MYTILENE. See text page 101.

    11. IMPERIAL COINS. See text page 101.

    12. A GREEK VASE. See text page 103.

    13. A BLACK-FIGURED CALPIS. See text page 104.

    14. LOST LUCANIAN (?) VASE. See text page 104.

    15. GREEK ARYBALLUS. See text page 105.

    16. A FIFTH CENTURY GREEK HYDRIA. See text page 106.

    17. PHAON ABOUT TO FERRY APHRODITE ACROSS THE SEA. See text page 108.

    18. A POMPEIAN FRESCO. See text page 108.

    19. AN ANCIENT BUST PROBABLY OF SAPPHO. See text page 111.

    20. THE OXFORD BUST, PROBABLY OF SAPPHO. See text page 112.

    21. BUST PROBABLY OF SAPPHO. See text page 112.

    22. STATUE OF SAPPHO. See text page 114.

    23. A STATUE OF SAPPHO. See text page 115.

    24. RAPHAEL’S PARNASSUS. See text page 117.

[Illustration: PLATE 2. PITTACUS, LORD OF LESBUS

One of the seven wise men of Greece, in whose reign Sappho was perhaps
banished to Sicily. The bust was found in Asia Minor in a Roman villa
(100 A.D.). Formerly in Baltimore in the collection of David M. Robinson,
now in the Museum of Budapest. Cf. _The Annual of the Budapest Museum_,
II, 1919-1920, p. 3. For other replicas cf. Lippold, _Griechische
Porträt-Statuen_, p. 72]

[Illustration: PLATE 3. MYTILENE

Looking across the severing sea to Asia Minor]

[Illustration: PLATE 4. THE STORY OF PHAON

From a fifth century hydria in Florence by the Meidias painter himself.
Phaon, tired of the ladies’ love-making, is seated in the middle below
with the inscription “Phaon” over his head. Aphrodite is above in a
chariot drawn by Pothos and Himeros. Reproduced from Milani, _Monumenti
Scelti del R. Museo Archeologico di Firenze_, pl. III]

[Illustration: PLATE 5. THE BEAUTIFUL PHAON

On a Greek vase in Palermo. Reproduced from Furtwängler-Reichhold,
_Griechische Vasenmalerei_, pl. 59]

[Illustration: PLATE 6. THE LEUCADIAN PROMONTORY

From an old engraving reproduced by Miss Patrick, _Sappho and the Island
of Lesbos_, p. 96]

[Illustration: PLATE 7. ROMAN FRESCO

In an underground building found in Rome near the Porta Maggiore, showing
to the left Apollo with lyre on the cliff, and to the right Sappho about
to step off the rock into the sea, where a Triton waits with outspread
garment. Behind Sappho higher up on the rock a winged Eros]

[Illustration: PLATE 8. A PAPYRUS OF THE THIRD CENTURY A.D.

With part of the text of a poem by Sappho. Reproduced from _Oxyrhynchus
Papyri_, XV, 1922, No. 1787, fragment 1, pl. II]

[Illustration: PLATE 9. A CYLIX BY SOTADES

In the British Museum, representing a girl on tiptoe plucking the apple
on the topmost bough. Reproduced from _White Athenian Vases in the
British Museum_, pl. XVII]

[Illustration: PLATE 10. A GREEK COIN FROM MYTILENE

Showing probably Sappho’s head on one side and lyre on other. Enlarged
twice the original size. Reproduced from Miss Patrick, _Sappho and the
Island of Lesbos_, p. 73]

[Illustration: PLATE 11. IMPERIAL COINS

In the British Museum, representing Sappho. Reproduced from Miss Patrick,
_op. cit._, p. 81]

[Illustration: PLATE 12. A GREEK VASE

In Munich, representing Alcaeus and Sappho. Reproduced from
Furtwängler-Reichhold, _op. cit._, pl. 64]

[Illustration: PLATE 13. A BLACK-FIGURED CALPIS

Formerly in the Dzialinsky collection at Paris, now in Cracow, in the
style of the Nicoxenus painter, with the earliest (about 500 B.C.)
inscribed representation of Sappho]

[Illustration: PLATE 14. LOST LUCANIAN (?) VASE

Formerly in the Middleton collection. Sappho seated before a winged Eros
who is bringing her a wreath. Reproduced from _Museo Italiano_, II, 1888,
pl. III, 2]

[Illustration: PLATE 15. GREEK ARYBALLUS

In the style of the Meidias painter, in the Jatta collection at Ruvo,
representing Thamyris giving a musical recital in the presence of Apollo,
Aphrodite, and the Muses, among whom Sappho is included. Reproduced from
_Römische Mitteilungen_, III, 1888, pl. IX]

[Illustration: PLATE 16. A FIFTH CENTURY GREEK HYDRIA

From Vari near Athens, showing Sappho seated and reading from a papyrus.
According to Beazley the style is related to that of the Hector painter,
though not by him. Reproduced from _Jahreshefte_, VIII, 1905, p. 40, Fig.
9]

[Illustration: PLATE 17. PHAON ABOUT TO FERRY APHRODITE ACROSS THE SEA

On a Greek vase in Bologna. Reproduced from Pellegrini, _Catalogo dei
Vasi Greci dipinti delle Necropoli Felsinee_, Fig. 77]

[Illustration: PLATE 18. A POMPEIAN FRESCO

Supposed to represent Sappho and Alcaeus. Reproduced from
Herrmann-Bruckmann, _Denkmaeler der Malerei des Altertums_, pl. 28]

[Illustration: PLATE 19. AN ANCIENT BUST PROBABLY OF SAPPHO

In the Villa Albani, Rome. Reproduced from Arndt-Brunn-Bruckmann,
_Griechische und Römische Porträts_, pls. 147-148]

[Illustration: PLATE 20. THE OXFORD BUST, PROBABLY OF SAPPHO

Reproduced from _Journal of Hellenic Studies_, XXXVIII, 1918, pl. III]

[Illustration: PLATE 21. BUST PROBABLY OF SAPPHO

In the Borghese Palace, Rome. Photographed in the summer of 1922]

[Illustration: PLATE 22. STATUE OF SAPPHO

By Magni]

[Illustration: PLATE 23. A STATUE OF SAPPHO

By Pradier]

[Illustration: PLATE 24. RAPHAEL’S PARNASSUS

In the Vatican. Sappho is leaning on the left side of the doorway]

Our Debt to Greece and Rome

AUTHORS AND TITLES

1. HOMER. John A. Scott, _Northwestern University_.

2. SAPPHO. David M. Robinson, _The Johns Hopkins University_.

3A. EURIPIDES. F. L. Lucas, _King’s College, Cambridge_.

3B. AESCHYLUS AND SOPHOCLES. J. T. Sheppard, _King’s College, Cambridge_.

4. ARISTOPHANES. Louis E. Lord, _Oberlin College_.

5. DEMOSTHENES. Charles D. Adams, _Dartmouth College_.

6. ARISTOTLE’S POETICS. Lane Cooper, _Cornell University_.

7. GREEK HISTORIANS. Alfred E. Zimmern, _University of Wales_.

8. LUCIAN. Francis G. Allinson, _Brown University_.

9. PLAUTUS AND TERENCE. Charles Knapp, _Barnard College, Columbia
University_.

10A. CICERO. John C. Rolfe, _University of Pennsylvania_.

10B. CICERO AS PHILOSOPHER. Nelson G. McCrea, _Columbia University_.

11. CATULLUS. Karl P. Harrington, _Wesleyan University_.

12. LUCRETIUS AND EPICUREANISM. George Depue Hadzsits, _University of
Pennsylvania_.

13. OVID. Edward K. Rand, _Harvard University_.

14. HORACE. Grant Showerman, _University of Wisconsin_.

15. VIRGIL. John William Mackail, _Balliol College, Oxford_.

16. SENECA. Richard Mott Gummere, _The William Penn Charter School_.

17. ROMAN HISTORIANS. G. Ferrero, _Florence_.

18. MARTIAL. Paul Nixon, _Bowdoin College_.

19. PLATONISM. Alfred Edward Taylor, _University of Edinburgh_.

20. ARISTOTELIANISM. John L. Stocks, _University of Manchester,
Manchester_.

21. STOICISM. Robert Mark Wenley, _University of Michigan_.

22. LANGUAGE AND PHILOLOGY. Roland G. Kent, _University of Pennsylvania_.

23. RHETORIC AND LITERARY CRITICISM. (Greek) W. Rhys Roberts, _Leeds
University_.

24. GREEK RELIGION. Walter W. Hyde, _University of Pennsylvania_.

25. ROMAN RELIGION. Gordon J. Laing, _University of Chicago_.

26. MYTHOLOGIES. Jane Ellen Harrison, _Newnham College, Cambridge._

27. THEORIES REGARDING THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. Clifford H. Moore,
_Harvard University_.

28. STAGE ANTIQUITIES. James T. Allen, _University of California_.

29. GREEK POLITICS. Ernest Barker, _King’s College, University of London_.

30. ROMAN POLITICS. Frank Frost Abbott, _Princeton University_.

31. ROMAN LAW. Roscoe Pound, _Harvard Law School_.

32. ECONOMICS AND SOCIETY. M. T. Rostovtzeff, _Yale University_.

33. WARFARE BY LAND AND SEA. E. S. McCartney, _University of Michigan_.

34. THE GREEK FATHERS. Roy J. Deferrari, _The Catholic University of
America_.

35. BIOLOGY AND MEDICINE. Henry Osborn Taylor, _New York_.

36. MATHEMATICS. David Eugene Smith, Teachers College, _Columbia
University_.

37. LOVE OF NATURE. H. R. Fairclough, _Leland Stanford Junior University_.

38. ASTRONOMY AND ASTROLOGY. Franz Cumont, _Brussels_.

39. THE FINE ARTS. Arthur Fairbanks, _Museum of Fine Arts, Boston_.

40. ARCHITECTURE. Alfred M. Brooks, _Swarthmore College_.

41. ENGINEERING. Alexander P. Gest, _Philadelphia_.

42. GREEK PRIVATE LIFE, ITS SURVIVALS. Charles Burton Gulick, _Harvard
University_.

43. ROMAN PRIVATE LIFE, ITS SURVIVALS. Walton B. McDaniel, _University of
Pennsylvania_.

44. FOLK LORE.

45. GREEK AND ROMAN EDUCATION.

46. CHRISTIAN LATIN WRITERS. Andrew F. West, _Princeton University_.

47. ROMAN POETRY AND ITS INFLUENCE UPON EUROPEAN CULTURE. Paul Shorey,
_University of Chicago_.

48. PSYCHOLOGY.

49. MUSIC. Théodore Reinach, _Paris_.

50. ANCIENT AND MODERN ROME. Rodolfo Lanciani, _Rome_.

End of Project Gutenberg's Sappho and her influence, by David Moore Robinson


THE RIVER BOSS

by Steward Edward White

Author of “The Westerners,” “The Blazed Trail,” etc.

“Obey orders if you break owners,” is a good motto, but a really
efficient river boss knows a better. It runs, “Get the logs out. Get
them out peaceably, if you can, but _get them out_.” He needs no
instructions from headquarters to tell him how to live up to this rule.
That might involve headquarters.

Jimmy was such a river boss. Therefore when Mr. Daly, of the firm of
Morrison & Daly, unexpectedly found himself contracted to deliver
5,000,000 feet of logs at a certain date, and the logs an impossible
number of miles up-stream, he called in Jimmy.

Jimmy was a small man, changeless as the Egyptian Sphinx. A number of
years ago a French comic journal published a series of sketches supposed
to represent the Shah of Persia influenced by various emotions. Under
each was an appropriate label, such as Surprise, Grief, Anger, or
Astonishment. The portraits were identically alike, and uniformly
impassive.

Well, that was Jimmy. He looked always the same. His hair, thick and
black, grew low on his forehead; his beard, thick and black, mounted
over the ridge of his cheek bones; and his eyebrows, thick and black,
extended in an uninterrupted straight line from one temple to the other.
Whatever his small, compact, muscular body might be doing, the mask of
his black and white imperturbability remained always unchanged.
Generally he sat clasping one knee, staring directly in front of him,
and puffing regularly on a “meerschaum” pipe he had earned by saving the
tags of Spearhead tobacco. Whatever you said to him sank without splash
into this almost primal calm, and was lost to view forever. Perhaps
after a time he might do something about it, but always without
explanation, calmly, with the lofty inevitability of fate. In fact, he
never explained himself, even to his employers.

Daly swung his bulk back and forth in the office chair. Jimmy sat bolt
upright, his black hat pendent between his knees.

“I want you to take charge of the driving crew, Jimmy,” said the big
man. “I want you to drive those logs down to our boom as fast as you
can. I give you about twenty days. It ought to be done in that. Sanders
will keep time for you, and Merrill will cook. You can get a crew from
the East Branch, where the drive is just over.”

When Daly had quite finished his remarks, Jimmy got up and went out
without a word. Two days later he and sixty men were breaking rollways
forty-five miles up-stream.

Jimmy knew as well as Daly that the latter had given him a hard task.
Twenty days was too brief a time. However, that was none of his
business.

The logs, during the winter, had been piled in the bed of the stream.
They extended over three miles of rollways. Jimmy and his crew began at
the down-stream end to tumble the big piles into the current. Sometimes
only two or three of the logs would rattle down; at others the whole
deck would bulge outwards, hover for a moment, and roar into the stream
like grain from an elevator. Shortly the narrows below the rollways
jammed. Twelve men were detailed as the “jam crew.” Their business was
to keep the stream free in order that the constantly increasing supply
from the rollways might not fill up the river. It was not an easy
business, nor a very safe. As the “jam” strung out over more and more of
the river, the jam crew was constantly recruited from the men on the
rollways. Thus some of the logs, a very few, the luckiest, drifted into
the dam pond at Grand Rapids within a few days; the bulk jammed and
broke, and jammed again at a point a few miles below the rollways, while
a large proportion stranded, plugged, caught, and tangled at the very
rollways themselves.

Jimmy had permitted himself two days in which to break out the rollways.
It was done in two. Then the “rear” was started. Men in the rear crew
had to see that every last log got into the current, and stayed there.
When a jam broke, the middle of it shot down-stream in a most
spectacular fashion, but along the banks “winged out” distressingly.
Sometimes the heavy sticks of timber had been forced right out on the
dry land. The rear crew lifted them back. When an obstinate log grounded
they jumped cheerfully into the water--with the rotten ice swirling
around them--and pried the thing off bottom, Between times they stood
upright on single unstable logs and pushed mightily with poles while the
ice water sucked in and out of their spiked river shoes.

As for the compensations. Naturally there was a good deal of rivalry as
to which wing should advance fastest; and one experiences a certain
physical thrill in venturing under thirty feet of jammed logs for the
sole purpose of teasing the whole mass to cascade down on one; or of
shooting a rapid while standing upright on a single timber. I believe,
too, it is considered a mighty honor to belong to the rear crew. Still,
the water is cold, and the hours long, and you have to sleep in tents.

It can readily be seen that the progress of the rear measures the
progress of the drive. Some few logs in the “jam” may run fifty miles a
day--and often do--but if the sacking has gone slowly at the rear, the
drive may not have gained more than a thousand yards. Therefore Jimmy
stayed at the rear.

Jimmy was a mighty good riverman. Of course he had nerve, and could do
anything with a log and a peevie, and would fight at the drop of a
hat--any “bully boy” would qualify there;--but he also had judgment. He
knew how to use the water, how to recognize the key log of jams, where
to place his men--in short, he could get out the logs. Now Jimmy also
knew the river from one end to the other, so he had arranged in his mind
a sort of schedule for the twenty days. Forty-eight hours for the
rollways; a day and a half for the upper rapid; three days into the dam
pond; one day to sluice the drive through the dam; three days to the
crossing, and so on. If everything went well, he could do it, but there
could be no hitches in the programme.

Even from this imperfect fragment of the schedule the inexperienced
might imagine that Jimmy had allowed an altogether disproportionate time
to cover the mile or so from the upper rapid to the dam pond. As it
turned out, however, he found he had not allowed enough, for at this
point the river was peculiar and very trying.

The backwater of the dam extended upstream half a mile; then occurred a
rise of five feet to the mile, down the slope of which the water whirled
and tumbled, only to spread out over a broad fan of gravel shallows.
These shallows did the business. When the logs had bumped through the
tribulations of the rapid, they seemed to insist obstinately on resting
in the shallows, like a lot of wearied cattle. The rear crew had to wade
in. They heaved and pried and pushed industriously, and at the end of it
had the satisfaction of seeing a single log slide reluctantly into the
current. Sometimes a dozen of them would clamp their peevies on either
side, and by sheer brute force carry the stick to deep water. When you
reflect that there were over 40,000 pieces in the drive, and that a good
fifty per cent. of them balked below the rapids, you can see that the
rear crew had its work cut out for it.

Jimmy’s allotted three days were almost gone, and his job had not
advanced beyond the third of completion. McGann, the sluice boss, did a
little figuring.

“She’ll hang over thim twinty days,” he confided to Jimmy. “Shure!”

Jimmy replied not a word, but puffed piston-like smoke from his pipe.
McGann shrugged in Celtic despair.

But the little man had been figuring, too, and his arrangements were
more elaborate and more nearly complete than McGann suspected. That very
morning he sauntered leisurely out over the rear logs, his hands in his
pockets. Every once in a while he stopped to utter a few low-voiced
comments to one or another of the men. The person addressed first looked
extremely astonished, then shouldered his peevie and started for camp,
leaving the diminished rear crew a prey to curiosity. Soon the word went
about, “Day and night work,” they whispered, though it was a little
difficult to see the difference in ultimate effectiveness between a half
crew working all the time and a whole crew working half the time.

About this stage Daly began to worry. He took the train to Grand Rapids,
anxiety written deep in his brows. When he saw the little inadequate
crew pecking in a futile fashion at the logs winged out over the
shallows, he swore fervidly and sought Jimmy.

Jimmy appeared calm.

“We’ll get ’em out all right, Mr. Daly,” said he.

“Get ’em out!” growled Daly. “Sure! but when? We ain’t got all summer
this season. Those logs have got to hit our booms in fourteen days or
they’re no _good_ to us!”

“You’ll have ’em,” assured Jimmy.

Such talk made Daly tired, and he said so.

“Why, it’ll take you a week to get her over those infernal shallows,” he
concluded. “You got to get more men, Jimmy.”

“I’ve tried,” answered the boss. “They ain’t no more men to be had.”

“Suffering Moses!” groaned the owner. “It means the loss of a
fifty-thousand-dollar contract to me. You needn’t tell me. I’ve been on
the river all my life. I _know_ you can’t get them off inside of a
week.”

“I’ll have ’em off to-morrow morning, but it’ll cost a little
something,” asserted Jimmy calmly. Daly stared to see if the man was not
crazy. Then he retired in disgust to the city, where he began to adjust
his ideas to a loss on his contract.

At sundown the rear crew quit work, and swarmed to the white encampment
of tents on the river bank. There they hung wet clothes over a big
skeleton framework built around a monster fire and ate a dozen eggs
apiece as a side dish to supper and smoked pipes of strong “Peerless”
tobacco and swapped yarns and sang songs and asked questions. To the
latter they received no satisfactory replies. The crew that had been
laid off knew nothing. It supposed it was to go to work after supper.
After supper, however, Jimmy told it to turn in and get a little more
sleep. It did turn in, and speedily forgot to puzzle.

At midnight Jimmy entered the big tent quietly with a lantern, touching
each of the fresh men on the shoulder. They arose without comment, and
followed him outside. There they were given tools. Then the little band
defiled silently down river under the stars.

Jimmy led them, his hands deep in his pockets, puffing white
steam-clouds at regular intervals from his “meerschaum” pipe. After
twenty minutes they struck the Water Works, then the board walk of Canal
Street. The word passed back for silence. Near the Oriole Factory their
leader suddenly dodged in behind the piles of sawed lumber, motioning
them to haste. A moment later, a fat and dignified officer passed,
swinging his club. After the policeman had gone, Jimmy again took up his
march at the head of a crew of men now thoroughly aroused to the fact
that something unusual was afoot.

Soon a faint roar lifted the night silence. They crossed Fairbanks
Street, and a moment after stood at one end of the power dam.

The long smooth water shot over, like fluid steel, silent and
inevitable, mirroring distorted flashes that were the stars. Below, it
broke in white turmoil, shouting defiance at the calm velvet rush above.
Then seconds later the current was broken. A man, his heels caught
against the combing, midleg in water, was braced back at the exact angle
to withstand the rush. Two other men passed down to him a short heavy
timber. A third, plunging his arms and shoulders into the liquid, nailed
it home with heavy inaudible strokes. As though by magic a second timber
braced the first, bolted solidly through sockets already cut for it. The
workers moved on eight feet, then another eight, then another. More men
entered the water to pass the timbers. A row of heavy slanted supports
grew out from the shoulder of the dam, dividing the waters into long,
arrow-shaped furrows of light. At half-past twelve Tom Clute was swept
over the dam into the eddy. He swam ashore. Purdy took his place.

When the supports had reached out over half of the river’s span, and the
water was dotted with the shoulders of men gracefully slanted against
the current, Jimmy gave orders to begin placing the flash-boards. Heavy
planks were at once slid across the supports, where the weight of the
racing water at once clamped them fast. The smooth, quiet river,
interrupted at last, murmured and snarled and eddied back, only to rush
with increased vehemence around the end of the rapidly growing
obstruction.

The policeman passing back and forth on Canal Street heard no sound of
the labor going on. If he had been an observant policeman he would have
noted an ever-changing tone in the volume of sound roaring up from the
eddy below the dam. After a time even he remarked on a certain obvious
phenomenon.

“Sure,” said he, “now that’s funny!”

He listened a moment, then passed on. The vagaries of the river were,
after all, nothing to him. He belonged on Canal Street, East Side; and
Canal Street, East Side, seemed peaceful.

The river had fallen abruptly silent. The last of Jimmy’s flash-boards
was in place. Back in the sleeping town the clock in Pierce’s Tower
struck two.

Jimmy and his men, having thus raised the level of the dam a good three
feet, emerged dripping from the west side canal, and cheerfully took
their way northward to where, in the chilly dawn, their comrades were
sleeping. As they passed the riffles they paused. A heavy grumbling
issued from the logs jammed there, a grumbling brutish and sullen, as
though the reluctant animals were beginning to stir. The water had
already banked up from the raised dam.

Of course the affair, from a river driver’s standpoint, at once became
exceedingly simple. The slumbering twenty were aroused to astounded
drowsiness. By three, just as the dawn was beginning to streak the east,
the regular _clank, clank, click_ of the peevies proclaimed that due
advantage of the high water was being seized. From then until six was a
matter of three hours more. A great deal can be accomplished in three
hours with flood water. The last little jam “pulled” just about the time
the first citizen of the West Side discovered that his cellar was full
of water. When that startled freeman opened the front door to see what
was up, he uttered a tremendous ejaculation; and so, shortly, came to
the construction of a raft.

Well, the newspapers got out extras with scare heads about “Outrages”
and “High-Handed Lawlessness”; and factory owners by the canals raised
up their voices in bitterness over flooded fire-rooms; and property
owners of perishable cellar goods howled of damage suits; and the
ordinary citizen took to bailing out the hollow places of his domain.
Toward nine o’clock after the first excitement had died and the
flash-boards had been indignantly yanked from their illegal places a
squad of police went out to hunt up the malefactor. The latter they
discovered on a boom pole directing the sluicing. From this position he
declined to stir. One fat policeman ventured a toppling yard or so on
the floating timber, threw his shaky hands aloft, and with a mighty
effort regained the shore, where he sat down panting. To the appeals of
the squad to come and be arrested, Jimmy paid not the slightest
attention. He puffed periodically on his “meerschaum,” and directed the
sluicing. Through the twenty-four-foot gate about a million an hour
passed. Thus it came about that a little after noon Jimmy stepped
peaceably ashore and delivered himself up.

“You won’t have no more trouble below,” he observed to McGann, his
lieutenant, watching reflectively the last log as it shot through the
gate. “Just tie right into her and keep her a-hustling.” Then he
refilled his pipe, lit it, and approached the expectant squad.

At the station house he was interviewed by reporters. That is, they
asked questions. To only one of them did they elicit a reply.

“Didn’t you know you were breaking the law?” inquired the “Eagle” man.
“Didn’t you know you’d be arrested?”

“Sure!” replied Jimmy with obvious contempt.

The next morning the court-room was crowded. Jimmy pleaded guilty, and
was sentenced to a fine of $500 or ninety days in jail. To the surprise
of everybody he fished out a tremendous roll and paid the fine. The
spectators considered it remarkable that a river boss should carry such
an amount. They had not been present at the interview on the boom poles
between Jimmy and his principal the day before.

The latter stood near the door as the little man came out.

“Jimmy,” said Mr. Daly distinctly so that everybody could hear, “I am
extremely sorry to see you in this trouble, but perhaps it may prove a
lesson to you. Next time you must understand that you are not supposed
to exceed your instructions.”

Thus did the astute Daly publicly disclaim liability.

“Yes, sir,” said Jimmy meekly. “Do you think you will get the logs in
time, Mr. Daly?”

They looked at each other steadily. Then for the first and only time the
black and white mask of Jimmy’s inscrutability melted away. In his left
eye appeared a faint glimmer. Then the left eyelid slowly descended.

[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the September 1902 issue of
_McClure’s Magazine_.]