(My PreSocratica
sequence of entries now resumes with the posting of this piece.)
In
my early preoccupation with Greek mythology, I somehow got used to the idea
that the great Athenian hero Theseus was a purely mythological figure,
alongside Heracles, Perseus, etc. Then came Plutarch, with his supposedly
historical Parallel Lives, where
Theseus was prominently featured in the opening pair with Romulus, who was at
the very least a semi-historical rather than mythical personage, and my opinion
of the man underwent a transformation of sorts, to the extent that now I was
treating Theseus as something more than a fairytale character. (Perhaps, had Plutarch’s
work on Heracles been also extant, I might have treated him differently too,
but such wasn’t the case, and consequently, Heracles now does not get himself
featured in the entries of my “historical” PreSocratica
section.)
Curiously,
Plutarch himself, writing his Parallel
Lives backwards, from the more recent toward the distant past, sets Romulus
of Rome and Theseus of Athens as the farthest outposts of history:
“As geographers… crowd into the edges of their maps parts of the
world which they know not about, adding notes in the margin to the effect that
beyond this lies nothing but the sandy deserts full of wild beasts,
unapproachable bogs, Scythian ice, or a frozen sea; so in this work of mine, in
which I have compared the lives of the greatest men with one another, after
passing through those periods which probable reasoning can reach to, and real
history find a footing in, I might very well say of those that are farther off:
‘Beyond this there lies nothing but
prodigies and fictions, the only inhabitants are the poets and inventors of
fables; there is no credit, or certainty any farther.’ Yet, after
publishing an account of Lycurgus the lawgiver and Numa the king, I thought I
might, not without reason, ascend as high
as to Romulus, being brought by my history so near to his time.
Considering therefore with myself: ‘Whom shall I set so great a man to face? Or whom oppose? Who is equal
to the place?’ (as Aeschylus expresses it), I found none so fit as him who
peopled the beautiful and far-famed city of Athens to be set in contraposition
with the father of the invincible and renowned city of Rome. Let us hope that
Fable may, in what shall follow, so submit to the purifying processes of Reason
as to take the character of exact history. In any case, however, where it shall
be found contumaciously slighting credibility, and refusing to be reduced to anything
like a probable fact, we shall beg that we may meet with candid readers, and
such as will receive with indulgence the stories of antiquity.
Theseus seemed to me to resemble Romulus in many particulars. Both
of them, born out of wedlock and of uncertain parentage, had the repute of
being sprung from the gods. ‘Both
warriors; that by all the world’s allowed.’ Both of them united with
strength of body an equal vigor of mind; and of the two most famous cities of
the world, the one built Rome, and the other made Athens be inhabited. Both
stand charged with the rape of women; neither of them could avoid domestic
misfortunes nor jealousy at home; but towards the close of their lives are both
of them said to have incurred great odium with their countrymen, if, that is,
we may take the stories least like poetry as our guide to the truth.”
With
all Plutarchian caveats, it is clear that without stretching the truth too far,
Theseus emerges somewhat more historical than a man of pure fiction, which fact
is also emphasized by Bulfinch:
“Theseus is a semi-historical personage. It is recorded of him that
he united the several tribes by whom the territory of Attica was then possessed
into one state, of which Athens was the capital. In commemoration of this
important event, he instituted the festival of Panathenaea, in honor of
Minerva, the patron deity of Athens.” (Bulfinch’s
Mythology: The Age of Fable: Chapter XX.)
A
curious question can be asked now: what is the reason why Theseus, admittedly
semi-historical, should be at all included in this particular PreSocratica section? What if, say,
Heracles had been more “historical” than he is, and had we had the pleasure of
finding him among Plutarch’s extant works? Here, then, comes our second
criterion. No, Heracles, would not deserve such a distinction. But apparently,
Theseus was not a mere brainless muscleman, like his assumed relative. Theseus
had brains as well, and that must qualify him for this section as a
“pre-Socratic” quasi-philosopher…
(To be continued tomorrow.)
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