# Hesiod, and Theognis/Chapter 5

CHAPTER V.
THE SHIELD OF HERCULES.
It was remarked at the outset that one class of Hesiodic poems consisted of epics in petto on some subject of heroic mythology. The 'Shield of Hercules' survives as a sample, if indeed it is to be received as Hesiod's work. Its theme is a single adventure of Hercules, his combat with Cycnus and his father, the war-god, near Apollo's Temple at Pagasæ. Shorn of a preface of fifty-six verses borrowed from the 'Catalogue of Women,' and having for their burden the artifice of Zeus with Alcmena, which resulted in the birth of Hercules, a preface manifestly in the wrong place, the 'Shield' is a fairly compact poem, constructed as a frame for the description of the hero's buckler, to which the rest of the poem is ancillary. Among the ancients the balance of opinion leaned to the belief that it was written by the author of the 'Theogony;' but though there is insufficient ground for the wholesale depreciation cast upon it by Mure, in his 'History of the Language and Literature of Ancient Greece,' it can hardly be maintained that the 'Shield of Hercules' is a poem ​of the same age and authorship as the 'Works' or the 'Theogony.' The sounder criticism of Müller deems it worthy to be set side by side with Homer's account of the Shield of Achilles in the 13th book of the Iliad, and characterises it as executed in the genuine spirit of the Hesiodian school. Were it desirable, it might be shown from the writings of the same critic that the objects represented on Hesiod's shield were in fact the first subjects of the Greek artificers in bronze, and that there are proofs in the accoutrement of Hercules, not with club and lion's skin, but like other heroes, of a date for this poem not posterior to the 40th Olympiad.
It has, no doubt, been the ill-fortune of this poem to have attracted more than its fair share of botchers and interpolators, and the discrimination of the true gold from the counterfeit and base metal belongs rather to a critical edition of the Hesiodic remains; but in the glance which we propose to bestow upon the work as it has come down to us, it will be shown that, after considerable allowance for interpolated passages, a residuum of fine heroic poetry will survive the process.
The poem proper, it has been said, begins at v. 57. Hercules, on reaching manhood, had undertaken an expedition against a noted robber, Cycnus, the son of Ares and Pelopia. This Cycnus used to infest the mountain-passes between Thessaly and Bœotia, and sacrilegiously waylay the processions to Delphi. It seems he would have been willing to buy off Apollo's ​wrath by building him at Pagasæ an altar of the horns of captured beasts; but the god loved his shrine too well to compound matters so easily, and instead of doing so, appears to have commissioned Hercules to exact reparation from the robber. The poem opens with the approach of the hero, with his charioteer and kinsman, Iolaus, to the robber's haunt:—
None but Hercules, we are told, could have faced the unearthly light with which the sheen of the war-god's armour and the glare of his fire-flashing eyes lit up the sacred enclosure and its environs. He, however, is equal to the occasion. Probably, if we had the poem as it was written, the hero would not be represented as in the text, employing this critical moment in irrelevant speeches to his charioteer to the effect ​that the labours (in which, by the way, his soul delighted) were all occasioned by the folly of that charioteer's father, Iphiclus. It was an odd time to twit his comrade and his brother's son with that brother's errors, when a fight with Ares, the god of war, was imminent. Iolaus's answer is more to the point. He bids his chief rely on Zeus and Poseidon for victory in the encounter, and urges him to don his armour in readiness for a fray in which the race of Alcæus, to which Hercules putatively belongs, shall get the victory:—
It would appear that the horse here mentioned owes its prominence to being of divine strain, and the offspring of the sea-god. The other member of the pair is not named, because of the transcendent breed of its yoke-fellow, who is, in the twenty-third book of the Iliad, said to belong to Adrastus.
But now the hero begins his war-toilet, donning his greaves of mountain-brass, the corselet which is Athena's gift, and the sword from the same donor, which he slings athwart his shoulders. Of the arrows in his quiver the poet says—
The heroic spear and helm complete his equipment, save and except the shield, to which it has been above noted that all the rest is introductory. This would seem to have been a circular disc, with a dragon for centre, and the parts between it and the outer rim divided by layers of cyanus or blue steel into four compartments of enamel, ivory, electrum, and gold. According to Müller, a battle of wild boars and lions forms a narrow band round the middle. The first considerable band which surrounds the centre-piece in the circle consists of four departments, of which two contain warlike, and two peaceable subjects, so that the entire shield contains, as it were, a sanguinary and a tranquil side. The rim of the shield is surrounded by the ocean. An idea of the poem is best gathered from some of the details of the several parts. Perched in the centre on the dragon's head—
Around this central image are grouped the appropriate forms of "Rout," "Rallying," "Terror," "Tumult," "Carnage," and "Discord;" but in close proximity to the dragon's head came twelve serpent-heads, freezing with dread all mortal combatants, and endowed, it should seem, with properties not inherent in the metal of the shield. The translation is as follows:—
But the original seems to imply that the rows of teeth, with which each serpent was finished, actually gnashed and clashed while Hercules was fighting. This, as Mr Paley suggests, may have been a mechanical device like that in the Theban Shields mentioned in the 'Phœnissæ' of Euripides, v. 11-26; or a bit of the marvellous—a "Munchausenism," such as ancient poets affect in enhancing the wonder of some work of the gods. Whichever it was, a like demand on our credulity is made in two other passages; one, where in another compartment Perseus is represented as seeming to hover over the shield's surface, like a man flying low in air, and to flit like a thought:—
The other is where the noise of the Gorgons' feet, as they tread, is represented as realised in connection with the sculptured shield:—
Next to the serpent-heads on the shield was wrought a fight betwixt boars and lions—an occasion to the poet of spirited description:—
​Next came the battle of the Lapiths and Centaurs, the names of both races corresponding in the main with those in the first book of the Iliad. Both bands are wrought in silver, their arms and missiles in gold. The Centaurs, it is noteworthy, have not yet assumed the double form of man and beast, of which the first mention occurs in Pindar (Pyth. ii. 80), but are here the rude monsters we find under the same name in the Iliad and Odyssey—a fact which is of some importance in fixing the comparatively early date of the shield. On the same compartment is wrought, the poet tells us, Ares in his war-chariot, attended by Fear and Consternation; whilst Pallas, taking the spoil, spear in hand, with helmed brow and her ægis athwart her shoulders, is depicted as she sets the battle in array, and rushes forth to mingle in the war din.
After a description following next of the material wealth of Olympus, which has been suspected of spuriousness, as savouring of post-Homeric style and ideas, occurs a curious presentment of a harbour and surging sea, wrought of tin, in which silver dolphins are chasing the lesser fish, and amusing themselves with gorging these, and spouting up water, whale fashion. The little fish are wrought in brass. A later addition to the picture is obviously interpolated from Theocritus (i. 39), namely, the fisherman on a crag—
What is needed to complete the picture in the Alexandrian poet is, however, de trop here.
​The description of Perseus, and his encounter with the Gorgons, has been partially anticipated, though our citations did not include the Gorgon's head covering all his back, his silver knapsack with gold tassels, or his invisible cap, the "helmet of Hades," which occurs in the fifth book of the Iliad, and has passed into a proverb. Above this group were wrought two cities, one at war, the other at peace. The details of the former are life-like; able-bodied men engaged in fight, women beating their breasts upon the walls, the elders at the gates asking help of the blessed gods; whilst the Fates with interest survey and fan the work of siege and slaughter with a prospect to a coming banquet of blood:—
Had the translator read size for years, Hesiod's account would have tallied with the evidence of vases and terra-cottas, which represent Clotho as the tallest, and Atropos the most decrepit of the weird sisters. Appropriately near this group is seen—
The italicised words in the above description recall a curious image of starvation, "pressing a tumid foot with hand from hunger lean," in the 'Works and Days' (v. 692), and to some extent point to a kindred authorship of the two poems.
From this ghastly picture the poet soon carries his readers to a contrast on the same band of the shield—a city at peace, which has been supposed to be meant for Thebes. We recognise the towers and the seven gates, and become spectators of bridal processions to the sound of the flute, as opposed as possible to the revels of the war-god in that city in its day of trouble—revels which Euripides described as "most unmusical." Here is some account of what is passing:—
​A comparison of this passage with, its parallel in Homer's shield of Achilles (II. xviii.), encourages the theory that both poets had a common ideal, though the representation is more full and prolix in Hesiod. We quote the Homeric description from an unpublished translation:—
A distinct subject, having nothing to do with the nuptial procession, though perhaps an accessory illustration of a city at peace, is formed in the operations of husbandry; ploughers tucked up and close girt are making the furrow, as on the Homeric shield, yield before the coulter. The equipment of these ploughmen carries us back again to the 'Works,' where the husbandman is advised "to sow stripped, plough stripped, and reap stripped," if he would enjoy the gift of Ceres; and where "stripping" means probably getting rid of the cloak, and wearing only the close tunic:—
​And in close proximity was the delineation of a vintage; some gathering the fruit, vine-sickle in hand, and others carrying it away in baskets. By a marvellous skill in metals, a row of vines had been wrought in gold, waving with leaves and trellises of silver, and bending with grapes represented in some dark metal. Treading the winepress, and expressing the juice, completed the picture, which is less perfect than Homer's parallel passage.
But there was room found, it would seem, on this part of the shield, for athletic and field sports of various kinds, the chariot-race being the most elaborate description of the set:—
Around the shield's verge was represented the circumambient ocean, girding, as it did in Homer's view, the flat and circular earth with its boundless flood:—
​so like the life, the poet adds, as to exact the admiration of even Zeus, the artificer's sire and patron.
So much for the shield: what remains concerns the combat betwixt Hercules, and Cycnus with the war-god to help him. The odds are partially balanced by the aid of the blue-eyed Pallas to the hero, who by her counsel forbears to dream of "spoiling the steeds and glorious armour of a god," a thing which he finds is against the decrees of fate. Nor does the goddess stop at advice, but vouchsafes her invisible presence in the hero's car. As the combatants come to close quarters Hercules resorts to mock civilities, and with taunting allusions asks free passage to the court of Ceyx, king of Iolchos, the father-in-law of Cycnus. As a matter of course the permission is denied. Hercules and Cycnus leap to the ground, and their charioteers drive a little aside to give free scope for the tug of war:—
The simile of the dislodged rocks reminds us of Hector's onslaught in the thirteenth book of the Iliad; but the poetical figure of the cities re-echoing the din and clamour of the conflict, and the portent of the bloody rain-drops, are due to Hesiod's own imagination. Close following upon these comes a tissue of similes, so prodigally strewn that they strike the critical as later interpolations. The issue of the fight is conceived in a more genuine strain:—
Hercules, so far victorious, awaits the onset of the bereaved war-god with a devout needfulness of his assessor's injunctions. She from her seat at his side interposes to apprise Ares that any attempt at revenge ​or reprisals must involve a conflict with herself. But the god, sore at his bereavement, heeds not her word, and with violent effort hurls his brazen spear at the huge shield of his antagonist. In vain; for Pallas diverts the javelin's force. Ares rushes upon Hercules, and he, having watched his opportunity,—
a curious dénouement, wherein an immortal is in bitter need of a Deus ex machina. The author of the 'Shield,' however, has provided for the contingency. Fear and Consternation had sat as helpers in the chariot of Cycnus, as Pallas in that of Hercules. They hurry the vanquished god into his car, and, lashing the steeds, transport him without more ado to Olympus. Here the poem should have ended; but a later chronicler seems to have felt, like many a modern novelist, that the minor dramatis personæ, must be accounted for. And so we have a few lines about the victor spoiling Cycnus, whose obsequies were afterwards duly performed by his respectable father-in-law Ceyx at Iolchos. But the tomb erected over the brigand and fane-robber was not suffered to remain in honour. In requital for repeated sacrilege—
Thus ends our sole sample extant of the short epics which antiquity attributes to Hesiod. With all its repetitions and interpolations, there is in it a residuum of genuine poetry which is happily rescued from the spoils of time. Even as a "fugitive ballad," which Mure has designated it, it is too good to be lost; and though we may not venture to attribute it confidently to Hesiod, the 'Shield' has its place in classical literature, if we can even accept it as "Hesiodian."
* ↑ Hist. Gr. Lit., i. 132.
* ↑ Hist. Gr. Lit., i. 132.
* ↑ By Mr Richard Garnett.