ich the highest
authorities have said, "After the lions of the gates of Mycenae, there is
no Greek sculpture older than this." (The lioness is now in the
vestibule of the palace in the esplanade.) This was exciting, for Mycenae
is a name to conjure with still, in spite of the refusal of the learned
to accept, in all their extent, Dr. Schliemann's splendidly romantic
theories and dreams. But when one goes on to Egypt, to have searched at
all for that enticing "oldest" in Greece appears to have been a mistake.
For what is B.C. 1000, which the German authorities say is an
approximate date for the Mycenae relics--what is that compared with King
Menes of the Nile, with his B.C. 4400 according to Brugsch-Bey, and B.C.
5000 according to Mariette? And there are rumors of civilized times far
older. But if we can bring ourselves to cease our chase after age and
turn to beauty, then it is not in the sands of Egypt that we must dig.
For beauty we must come to the clear light country of the gods.

But leaving history, some of us suffer greatly nowadays from mental
dislocations of another sort. The Mycenae lions and the grim lioness of
Corfu are ascribed with a calmness which seems brutal to "pre-Homeric
times." Surely there were no pre-Homeric times except chaos. Surely
those were the first days of the world when all the men were
sure-footed, and all the women white-armed; when the sea was hollow (it
has remained that to this day), and when the heavenly powers interested
themselves in human affairs upon the slightest occasion. Leave us our
faith in them. It can be preserved, if you like, in the purely poetical
compartment of the mind. For there are all sorts of compartments: I have
met a learned geologist who turned pale when a mirror was broken by
accident in his house; I know a disciple of Darwin who always deprecates
instantly any reference to his good health, lest in some mysterious way
it should attract ill-luck. It seems to me, therefore, that the dear
belief that Homer's heroes began the world may coexist even with the
bicycle. (Not that I myself have much knowledge of this excellent
vehicle. But, its tandem wheels, swift and business-like, personify the
spirit of the age.)

[Illustration: THE ISLET CALLED "THE SHIP OF ULYSSES"]

At Corfu one is over one's head in the Odyssey. "The island is not what
it has been," said the English lady of the Indian Mail. It is not,
indeed! She referred to the days of the Lords High. But th