The Development of English Letter-Writing

T

HE history of letter-writing if it could be adequately written would form one of the most fascinating records of the progress of the human race; but in the present condition of our knowledge any history that could be called adequate is impossible. The tendency of modern discovery is to push further and yet further back the use of those methods of intercourse which we have been accustomed to regard as characteristic of forms of life relatively modern. The ruins of Pompeii have furnished us, among other things, with specimens of bronze pens which may vie with the best productions of modern manufacture in their workmanship, skill, and usefulness. From the tombs of Egypt have come to us countless evidences of the social life of the people, among which are tradesmen's bills and domestic missives. It is not impossible that some future discoverer may be able to present to the world the love-letters of the Pharaohs, or the private journals of Moses written in the hours when he meditated his great revolt, and was aware of the first shadow of his approaching destiny.

According to Wolf, in his Prolegomena ad Homerum, the art of writing was introduced into Greece about 1100 B.C.1 It seems certain that the sixth book of the Iliad was composed without writing; that is, it was purely oral,

'Dr. Angelo Mosso, in his recently published work upon The Palaces of Crete and Their Builders, states that the Cretan linear writing extends back a thousand years before the earliest known appearance of the Phoenician alphabet, while the early pictorial form

in much the same way that the Gospels of Jesus long existed in oral forms before they were recorded in writing. Just

as the first Apostles repeated what they remembered or had collected of the sayings and the deeds of Jesus, so the sixth book of the Iliad was kept in memory by the Rhapsodists, who recited it upon great occasions, at feasts and festivals. There was this difference, however: while the disciples of Jesus lived in an age of literature, whose forms and means were accessible the moment they chose to use them, to the early Greek Rhapsodists, writing was an unknown and even fearful art. It was to their generation what Alchemy and Astrology were to the Middle Ages, a thing of awe, often used for the carrying out of dark purposes.

In the sixth book of the Iliad we have the first mention of the letter in Greek literature. The story runs thus.

To Bellerophon, son of Glaukos, did the gods grant beauty and lovely manhood. Against him did King Proitos devise evil in his heart and did drive him out from the land of the Argives, being mightier by far than he. It happened on this wise. Anteia, wife of Proitos, lusted after Bellerophon, even as did Potiphar's wife after Joseph in the land of Egypt; but because of the righteousness that was in his heart no whit could she prevail upon him. Then spake she lyingly unto the king, saying, "Die thyself, O Proitos, or else slay me Bellerophon, for he would lead me aside in love against my will."

Then was the king angry when he heard it; yet to slay him he did forbear, for his soul had shame of such a deed. So he sent him to Lykia and gave him tokens of woe, writing upon a folded tablet of many deadly things, and dates a thousand years earlier than the linear. It has been commonly supposed that it was the Phoenicians who introduced the art of writing into Greece.

bade him show these to Anteia's father that he might be slain.1

All ignorant of his danger Bellerophon departed upon his way. When he came to Lykia, then did the king of that country honour him with all his heart; nine days did he feast him and nine oxen did he kill. On the tenth day, when rosy-fingered dawn did shine, he questioned him and asked to see what manner of guest-tokens he bore from his son-in-law, even Proitos. Now when the king of Lykia had seen the evil tokens which he carried, he strove to murder him in four separate and secret ways. But when he saw that by none of these means might he prevail, he at last came to recognise that Bellerophon was the doughty offspring of an immortal god. So he plighted him his daughter in marriage and gave unto him the half of his kingdom, fair with vineyards and flowery meads.

This passage is of the highest interest, and curiously resembles another incident, much better known, which is recorded in the second book of Samuel. Bellerophon is the victim of treachery. He goes to his supposed doom, carrying with him a guest-token, which instead of assuring for him the honours of hospitality has written upon it the warrant for his murder. David acts in precisely the same manner toward Uriah the Hittite. He will not slay Uriah himself, because Uriah has eaten of his bread. He feasts Uriah and makes him drunk, as the dark preface of his perfidy. "And it came to pass in the morning that David wrote a letter to Joab, and sent it by the hand of Uriah. And he wrote in the letter, saying, set ye Uriah in the forefront of the hottest battle, and retire ye from him, that he may be smitten and die." The guest tablet of the unconscious

1 πέμπε δέ μιν Λυκίηνδε, πόρεν δ ̓ ὅ γε σήματα λυγρά,

γράψας ἐν πίνακι πτυκτῷ θυμοφθόρα πολλά.

-Iliad, Bk. VI., lines 168 and 9.