rself. But in sight
of Eleusis, freemasonry sinks into insignificance. For, of all races,
the Grecian was the most mysterious; and, of all Grecian mysteries, the
Eleusinia were _the_ mysteries _par excellence_. They must certainly
have meant something to Greece,--something more than can ever be
adequately known to us. A farce is soon over; but the Eleusinia reached
from the mythic Eumolpus to Theodosius the Great,--nearly two thousand
years. Think you that all Athens, every fifth year, for more than sixty
generations, went to Eleusis to witness and take part in a sham?

But, reader, let _us_ go to Eleusis, and see, for ourselves, this great
festival. Suppose it to be the 15th of September, B.C. 411, Anno Mundi
3593 (though we would not make oath to that). It is a fine morning at
Athens, and every one is astir, for it is the day of assembling together
at Eleusis. Then, for company, we shall have Plato, now eighteen years
old, Sophocles, an old man of eighty-four, Euripides, at sixty-nine, and
Aristophanes, at forty-five. Socrates, who has his peculiar notions
about things, is not one of the initiated, but will go with us, if we
ask him. These are the _elite_ of Athens. Then there are the Sophists
and their young disciples, and the vast crowd of the Athenian people.
Some of the oldest among them may have seen and heard the "Prometheus
Vinctus"; certainly very many of them have seen "Antigone," and
"Oedipus," and "Electra"; and all of them have heard the Rhapsodists.
Great wonders have they seen and heard, which, in their appeal to the
heart, transcend all the wonders of this nineteenth century. Not more
fatal to the poor Indian was modern civilization, bringing swift ruin to
his wigwam and transforming his hunting-grounds into the sites of
populous cities, than modern improvements would have been to the Greek.
Modern strategy! What a subject for Homer would the siege of Troy have
been, had it consisted of a series of pitched battles with rifles!
Railways, steamboats, and telegraphs, annihilating space and time, would
also have annihilated the Argonautic expedition and the wanderings of
Ulysses. There would have been little fear, in a modern steamship, of
the Sirens' song; one whistle would have broken the charm. A modern
steamship might have borne Ulysses to Hades,--but it would never have
brought him back, as his own ship did. And now do you think a ride to
Eleusis by railway to-day would strike this Athenian populace, to