consistent—series of investigations has led. In doing so, I profess to

bring forward statements, not to vouch for their reasonableness or probability.


“Homer appeared. The history of this poet and his works is lost in

doubtful obscurity, as is the history of many of the first minds who have done

honour to humanity, because they rose amidst darkness. The majestic stream of

his song, blessing and fertilizing, flows like the Nile, through many lands and

nations; and, like the sources of the Nile, its fountains will ever remain

concealed.”


Such are the words in which one of the most judicious German critics has

eloquently described the uncertainty in which the whole of the Homeric question

is involved. With no less truth and feeling he proceeds:—


“It seems here of chief importance to expect no more than the nature of

things makes possible. If the period of tradition in history is the region of

twilight, we should not expect in it perfect light. The creations of genius

always seem like miracles, because they are, for the most part, created far out

of the reach of observation. If we were in possession of all the historical

testimonies, we never could wholly explain the origin of the Iliad and the

Odyssey; for their origin, in all essential points, must have remained the

secret of the poet.”


From this criticism, which shows as much insight into the depths of human

nature as into the minute wire-drawings of scholastic investigation, let us

pass on to the main question at issue. Was Homer an individual? or were the

Iliad and Odyssey the result of an ingenious arrangement of fragments by

earlier poets?


Well has Landor remarked: “Some tell us there were twenty Homers; some

deny that there was ever one. It were idle and foolish to shake the contents of

a vase, in order to let them settle at last. We are perpetually labouring to

destroy our delights, our composure, our devotion to superior power. Of all the