IV.

THE MANNER IN WHICH THE ANCIENTS AND THE MODERNS REPRESENTED THE STRUGGLE OF MAN AGAINST DANGER-THE SHIPWRECK OF ULYSSES IN HOMER--AND OF ROBINSON CRUSOE IN A ROMANCE OF THAT NAME-A DESCRIPTION OF A TEMPEST IN THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES--THE BURNING OF THE KENT, A SHIP BELONGING TO THE EAST INDIA COMPANY, IN 1825.

WHEN We become interested in the dying complaints of Iphigenia or Antigone, when we permit ourselves to be af fected by the groans of the wounded Philoctetes, it is not because we are led to think of our own condition, and that we feel that we would pity ourselves if we were in their situation. The emotion which we experience proceeds from a more general sentiment; it has nothing personal. The man who has never felt the attacks of physical pain, sympathizes with the sufferings of Philoctetes; the man who curses life, is affected by the regrets which Antigone expresses at quitting it. Happy or unhappy, we are all moved by the plaints of tragic heroes, and that, without there being any necessity that ourselves should have experienced their misfortunes or their passions. What renders them pleasing and attractive is that man is the sport of them. Ajax is not of our country, age or family; and his misfortunes are very different from those which we have suffered, or which we shall perhaps ever suffer it matters not; he moves us simply because he is a man, and because he suffers. We need not have any other connection or relationship with him than that.

Man is interested only in man. Nature itself pleases us only when it is animated by our emotions or by our reflections; left to itself, it languishes and loses all its charms. What we love in nature is the relation which we feel to exist between it and ourselves. The sea itself, beautiful and majestic as it is, requires the presence of man. The ocean

without vessels, attracts only half the interest, because it wants, if we may so speak, the moral movement which alone interests the soul. Compare for a moment the ocean when it is calm, and cradling on its surface the reflections of the sun, or violent and tempestuous, without a solitary vessel upon its bosom, without a man exposed to its deceitful placidity, or to its terrible fury; compare it with the ocean when, contemplating it from the top of a mountain, we perceive at a distance a sail which cuts the side of the horizon, how all becomes animated at this sight. Now we see with an indifferent eye the breaking of the waves against each other; our soul becomes absorbed in contemplating the immensity of the waters, and recovers itself a little in thinking of itself or of God. Now there is only one point upon which his eyes are fixed; it is that where man is the sport of the waves. Contemplation is changed into sight, and emotion succeeds to revery. So much interest does man add to every thing!

We will see how the ancients and the moderns have described the struggle of man with danger. We will take as an example the peril of the storm, that is to say, one of those perils in which he struggles with nature, because in struggles of this kind he exhibits a peculiar grandeur. It is true, they do not draw out all of his passions; he has not the anger and the hatred with which his enemy usually inspires him; but he has all his courage, enhanced frequently by the resignation which he derives from the involuntary respect which he feels for this nature, which, although violent and terrible, obeys nevertheless the laws which it has received from God; or it may be from the secret superiority which the soul claims for itself over those elements which are stronger than man, which do not however know their strength, while man is conscious of his weakness. Man sometimes is courageous in opposing the storm with the trust which the Christian has in God, who is master of the storm as well as of life.

The most beautiful description of a storm of which we have any record, is to be found in the Odyssey of Homer.

Neptune, being angry with Ulysses, who has left the Island of Calypso, and is about to go to his dear Ithaca, raises a terrible storm against him. "The land and the sea are covered with dark clouds; a gloomy night descends and is

spread over the waves. All the winds blow at the same time; they raise the waves in a heap and roll them with fury against the shore. Ulysses then cried out: 'Wretched man that I am, what will become of me! I fear that Calypso spoke the truth when she told me that, before I would reach the shores of Ithaca, my ruin would be accomplished. What lowering clouds! How agitated and troubled the sea is becoming! How the winds blow from all quarters of heaven!'

... He was still speaking when an immense wave broke into his vessel, and made it spin around like a whirlpool. Ulysses was compelled to let go the helm, which he was holding with both hands, and was swept out of his vessel. At the same time the violence of the storm broke his mast; and the sails and cordage were blown into the sea. Ulysses remained for a long time under the water, struggling in vain to rise above the waves. The impetuosity of the waves, and his clothes, which became saturated with water, kept him under. At last he arose, and spouted from his mouth the briny waves which were streaming from his head; then he looked around for the vessel, for he had not lost courage, although exhausted by fatigue; and struggling with all his might, he succeeded in laying hold of it. He then sat down in the middle of his half-wrecked vessel, weak and exhausted, fortunate however in having escaped death.

"The vessel floated here and there upon the sea, tossed about by the raging winds. The daughter of Cadmus, the beautiful Leucothoe, who was once a mortal, but afterwards became one of the nymphs of the sea, seeing Ulysses and his danger, was moved to pity. She took the form of a sea bird, and going out of the waves, she came and perched herself on the vessel of Ulysses. Unfortunate one,' says she, 'what have you done to the powerful Neptune, that he should seek thus to destroy you! Nevertheless you shall not perish, although he desires it much. I see that you have preserved your prudence and your courage. Do, then, what I tell you: take off your clothes and abandon your vessel to the winds; cast yourself into the sea, and swim to the shores of the Thracians: it is there that destiny wills that you should be saved. Take this girdle which is immortal, and which will preserve you from death; place it around your breast, and do not fear that you will perish. When you have reached the shore, you will throw it back into the sea, turning your

head away, and without looking behind.' When she had thus spoken, the goddess gave him the girdle; then still retaining the form of a bird, she plunged again into the sea, and the waves concealed her. The patient Ulysses commenced to deliberate with himself: 'Perhaps this is some god who wishes to destroy me, by ordering me to quit my vessel. I will not do it; for the land, where she tells me I will be saved, if I reach it, is still a long way off. I prefer as long as the planks of my vessel can resist the fury of the waves, to remain and bear the storm. When the waves will have wrecked it, I will then swim to the land. This is the best course that I can take.'

"While these reflections were passing through his mind, Neptune raised an immense wave of formidable height, which, breaking over the vessel of Ulysses, as a blast of wind scatters a bundle of straw here and there upon the waves, wrecked the vessel into a thousand pieces. Ulysses leaped quickly upon a beam, and straddling it crosswise, as if on horseback, he pulled off his clothes, the cherished gift of Calypso he then threw over his breast the girdle of Leucothoe, and stretching out his arms, he leapt into the sea, and commenced to swim towards the land. Neptune saw him, and shaking his head, 'Go now,' says he, wander upon the waves until you can reach the land where men, the children of Jupiter, inhabit.' And after saying these words, he disappeared and went into the temple of Ægeum. Minerva then endeavoring to save Ulysses, whom she protected, restrained the blowing of the winds, except that of Boreas, so that driving the waves upon the shore of the Thracians, it would assist him in escaping death.

"During two entire days and nights, Ulysses wandered about on the waves. Often his heart became discouraged, and anticipated death; but on the third day, the dawn appeared with a clear and serene sky. The wind was lulled and a calm was spread over the waters. He then saw the land; it was near; and he raised himself on the waves to observe it. Not when sweet life returns to a father who has for a long time been suffering from illness; when his sons see him cheered up after a long dejection, delivered at last by the gods, was more dear to the eyes of his sons, than was the sight of the land and the sweet verdure to the eyes of Ulysses. He swam, striving with his hands and feet to

reach this beloved land. But when he was not further than the reach of the human voice, he heard the noise of the sea breaking over the rocks on the shore. The waves roared in striking against the land, for there was no harbor, nor easy access to the shore. Ulysses began again to be afflicted: Alas!' exclaimed he, after having seen the land which I feared I would never more see, after having crossed over the sea, can I find no way of getting out of the waves? All these rocks are steep, and the water which breaks over the banks raises an inaccessible wall. The sea is so deep that I cannot touch bottom with my feet any where. If the waves throw me against a rock, I cannot hold on to it; and if I swim further, who knows if I will find some harbor, or favorable creek? And then the storm may carry me off again to sea, or perhaps some hostile deity may send some monster like Amphitrite to devour me; for I know how terrible is the anger of Neptune against me.'

"Thus thought Ulysses. But suddenly the waves pitched him on the shore. His body would have been broken and his flesh mangled, if Minerva had not inspired him to seize with both hands a rock, to which he clung groaning until it passed by. The wave passed, and he escaped the rock which he feared; but in returning, it carried him off, and threw him back into the sea; and as the polypus, drawn from the bottom of the sea, preserves in its broken filaments particles of sand and pebbles, so the skin of the hero stuck to the points of the rock which he had embraced. Carried off again into the sea, he was this time about to perish. Minerva advised him to swim a little further on, and he would arrive at the mouth of a river where the waters were calm and beautiful. There the shore had no rocks, and was sheltered from the winds. Hear me, whoever you are, beneficent River,' cried Ulysses; I come to you as a suppliant, who has narrowly escaped the anger of Neptune. The immortal gods themselves respect whoever, among men, comes wandering and weak as I am in approaching your waters, in embracing your knees after having suffered so much. Have pity upon me, O River! I am your guest and your suppliant!'

"Thus prayed Ulysses; and the river, moved with pity, calmed its waters, and received him into her bosom. His knees were bent with fatigue, his arms fell exhausted by the