tion from the old ideal of the city-state which was at its best in the age of Pericles. The halo about their heads comes from the golden glow of the setting sun of the old ideal. No other such group of geniuses ever lived in one historical setting. Democritus, Pericles, Phidias, Æschylus and Sophocles and, touching hands with them, Praxiteles, Euripides, Socrates, Plato and Aristotle-what a constellation! May it not be that the basis, the foundation, of their individual genius is to be found in the fact, which the Platonic Socrates emphasizes in the Crito and to which Demosthenes points with pride, that they were all children of one mother, the Athenian city-state?

Greek philosophy, which began in the seventh century, concerned itself with the question, What is ultimately real? Whether the answer was water or air, or some indefinite somewhat, out of which the phenomenal world arose, the underlying quest was the same. These philosophers were in search of the permanent substance of which the world was made. The material ground-plan which constituted the nature of things asked no assistance from man. Man, like Man, like any other phenomenal object, was regarded as the passive product of some ultimate world-substance.

Into this realistic philosophy Empedocles introduced a new and important element. He added to his four fundamental elements, fire, air, water, and earth, the qualities of love and hate. Whether these qualities of love and hate are to be interpreted in an idealistic sense as new additions to the old material elements, or whether they are themselves qualities or products of the four fundamental elements, Emped

ocles has not made clear; hence his interpreters disagree. But there is an ethical aspect of the matter which seems to be clear: in his addition of love and hate to the underlying elements of which the world is ultimately composed, Empedocles distinctly recognized mind as actively or passively-according as we take the idealistic or the materialistic interpretation-playing its part in the creation of the world, in the on-going of the processes of nature. The mind secured recognition as playing a part in the scheme of things.

In Democritus, a further step is taken in the same direction, for, while all reality is reduced to atoms, nevertheless the matter which is ultimately real is not the matter which we experience as the objects of perception. Real matter is supersensible; the phenomenal matter of our world of sense perception is in part made what it is by the mental processes of the percipient. Primary qualities, like extension, belong to matter in itself, but secondary qualities, like color, are due to the presence of the mind itself. According to this view, even if mind is not a part of ultimate reality, it nevertheless plays a part in the determination of the character of the world as human beings know it. And newer theory mirrors newer social processes.

But it was left to Anaxagoras to bring to clear recognition the significance of the mind in the on-going of the world. According to this thinker, no amount of complexity in the structure of matter can produce a world. A cosmos can arise only as the material elements of reality are reduced to order by the synthesizing, form-giving activity of intelligence. It is no wonder that Aristotle singled out this theory of Anaxa

goras as the most significant thing in the whole world of pre-Socratic philosophy.

There is reason for regarding this theory of a creative intelligence propounded by Anaxagoras, the counsellor of Pericles, the great leader of the Athenian city-state, as an unconscious symbol or index of the phenomenal development of the Greek mind in the age of Pericles. It mirrored in consciousness in the form of a philosophic theory the creative activity of the Greek mind in the fifth century B. C.

In the art of the Parthenon, built by Pericles in the middle of the fifth century, we see the Greek philosophy of life at its best. Athens had been victorious over Persia; she had not yet been defeated and humiliated by Sparta. The columns of the Parthenon were not Corinthian; it was not a period of luxury and refinement. Some of the columns on the Areopagus exhibited the elegance and frailty of the Ionic type. But those of the Parthenon were Doric; for the Parthenon was the symbol of ruggedness and strength. Philosophy and mathematics and science were in this wonderful temple; they were built into the very structure of the building. Philosophy interpreted and illuminated, but it had not yet begun to question, the instinctive ruggedness of the Greek moral consciousness. In the work of the school of Phidias, the counsellor of Pericles in the field of art, we see visualized in objective characters a sereneness of mind which is the result of a fusion of self-reliance and beauty, of ruggedness and intelligence, of instinctive strength and profound selfcontrol. This fusion of the old ancestral tradition and the new enlightenment gives a unique majesty of

mind to the art of this period. The fulness of life of the Three Fates, the profound repose of the Dionysus, show the characteristics of this age. The rugged, dynamic grandeur of Æschylus and the Anaxagorean intelligence have interpenetrated. The old emotional abandon and brute strength of the religious choral dance still contribute their power. But science and philosophy have given more ideal objects, wider intellectual meanings, to the old ancestral energies. We see this in the sculptured choral movements of the school of Phidias. When we behold the Demeter of Cnidus or the Aphrodite of Melos, we understand the statement which Aristophanes puts into the mouth of Eschylus that there was no instance of a woman in love in his dramas. The worship of Aphrodite in the thought of an Eschylus meant reverence for the mother of life. The Athenian citizen chose his wife as a free man; he was not a mechanical part of a Spartan military system. But Venus as the nucleus of a romantic sentimentalism was not yet enthroned in the minds of the Greeks.

The theory that thought was a copy of some ideal standard existing beyond experience had not arisen. There was no dualism of life and action, soul and body, thought and reality, the ideal and the actual. This was born later in the reflective ferment of the Socratic age. Language had not become an algebraic symbolism of abstract speech. Homer was always set to music. The Greek drama was a part of "music." When Wagner set his philosophy to music, giving us logic and rhythm as aspects of one underlying art, he reincarnated the spirit of Sophocles. Greek thought

had not abstracted itself from life; it imaged experience in a concrete way. Thought was a piecing out in imagination of an incomplete experience; it was an ideal anticipation of reality. The gods were not ideal constructions which were "believed" to exist by the pious. They were personifications of the forces of nature. And nature included all that was human and divine. Nature meant what Nietzsche calls "golden nature." Ideas had not become the pure timeless and spaceless universals of Plato's Phaedo. They were instruments through which the mind controlled the world of men and things. We do not see in the sculptured figures of Phidias a soul imprisoned in a body. Muscles and mind, hands and feet and brain, feeling and will and thought, are all working together to produce a marvelous spontaneousness and fulness of life. Civilization has been made possible because the human mind has elaborated and operated with universal ideas. The mathematics, physics, ethics, drama, and art elaborated by the Greek mind laid the basis of western knowledge. The form given to the family, property, the state, and religion by the intelligent organization of behavior and sentiment and thought, especially among the Hebrews, Greeks, and Romans, practically constituted western civilization. Behind this world of form and order was chaos. The Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian columns, whose forms are still the axioms of architectural thought; the Parthenon, even in its ruins, the figures from the frieze of the Parthenon, the winged victories, the Hermes of Praxiteles, have become the universal forms and canons and standards of civilization. The poetry of Homer, the drama of Sophocles, have given