Horologium

The description of the present works requires a speech that rivals the art; but if it should be seen as inferior to these, even this is a wonder of the maker, that he has become greater in deed than we who merely speak. Hence it concludes in praise of him and renders to the author of good things the fitting eulogy to Power, through whom the city has come to enjoy the present blessings. DESCRIPTION OF THE HOROLOGIUM. Others may see other things and speak of them if they wish—some, the pyramids of Egypt, such as are the celebrated works of the Egyptians; another, visiting Babylon, might behold the temple of Belus, son of Zeus, and other towers upon other towers, eight in number. Yet let him take up Hephaestus and provide him with houses of the gods to fashion, "which Hephaestus made with his cunning skill," and let him say that the same god is "the Lame One," knowing that his art always requires toil and constant attendance; for such is the state of not moving while persisting in his works. Having then a cunning mind and a body fixed in one place, he now makes the shield of Achilles, an extraordinary work for Homer, and servants attend to his need, seeming to live and kindling the flame with spontaneous motion. But going to the island of the Phaeacians, he made another marvelous work: there were dogs for Alcinous, guardians of the court; and these dogs were not the usual living ones, but gold and silver, by the art of Hephaestus possessing motion. These things, then, were a myth to me and seemed a story, and Homer indulged in art, speaking freely of things that neither were nor ever came to be.

Now, seeing the works and art of this present Hephaestus, I grant that these things are to be conceded as true even as those. I therefore wish to speak of these things and I pray: for sight defeats speech, being at a loss and itself borne to whatever it might need into everything; for it leaps up and down and wishes to see everything, then, shifting more quickly than it should, it falls short of precision concerning each of these things; I know this from experience. For I did not persevere with the first things due to desire for the others, and before I had the second things as I should, I withdrew to another spectacle. And there were rollings of the eyes, as for those who see the labyrinth by the Nile, as some Ionian writer said. Whence then should one begin? And what end, dear friend, shall we set to the speech? There is a house in the middle of the city, bearing measures, facing the royal stoa, and on the left a place of dwelling for countless people in summer. A double pair of columns stands before it, divided toward the east and west, and by a great interval they cause the house behind to be seen, so that no one disturbs those who are viewing. A fold of marble holds together the spaces between the columns, with sharp iron pegs fixed into them, this being a barrier if anyone is rash and strives to cross over. But also a Gorgon from on high grimly threatens those who dare to approach with too bold a purpose, changing her eyes according to the parts of the day, just as when Perseus cut off her head, if anyone troubled her, he had to become stone upon her appearing. This one tragedy would have called "a blood-eyed and serpent-like maiden," if she had such piercing eyes.

When it bears the symbol of having been struck, it is about to astonish those who see the present work. But let us proceed to the other matters, since I have touched upon the works from above. For doors are set before us, and I seem to conceal some of the day; but those of the night are higher up, though I do not yet describe them. Hence, if one should see them in order, as if we had thrown them open, we shall begin from above, and thus the first thing demanding a hymn for its precision will be first in the account; therefore let the evening and the lamp that will shine forth from the doors of the upper chamber remain. But it has anticipated by a paradoxical movement, because it frightens the spectators. Let us examine these middle things as they are. Some bronze eagles stand in a single row, equal in number to the hours set beneath them. They all bear crowns, not crowned on the head nor indicating their own victory; but the tips of the claws of their feet, coming together, hold the crowns, each one waiting for the Heracles beneath them, when he will come out of the doors set above, after the Sun standing before these has passed them by. For this Sun walks, measuring the hour by its movement. And as ruler of these, it has assumed a royal form, holding the pole in its left hand, and with the extension of its right hand ordering the doors to be released, like those who order the horses to go out from the starting gates. So an eagle stands watching, waiting for when the Heracles of Zeus among those set above comes out of the doors, announcing the hour: the first announces the first hour, and the rest according to the number. For there are twelve hours, and all are Heracles, not idle, by Zeus, and doing nothing; for it was not at all dear to Heracles to be idle.

The contests of old are now his work, no longer for Eurystheus, but by necessity of art; and it is divided into the contests, filling a double six. First, then, the struggle is a lion, and Nemea is its place. He also slew the Hydra, even if he was assailed by contentious heads. He blushed to conquer the boar, but nevertheless conquered. The golden deer had naturally grown horns, and they became Heracles'. Indeed, birds troubled his heart and were the work of his bow. Nor did he leave the Amazons untouched, if seeking some girdle, I would not say; he hated women hearing them called "man-opposing." The dung of Augeas troubled him; and he was free of this too. Crete had a terrible bull, but not such as to conquer Heracles. What would you say of the horses of Diomedes? Were they not up to this point murderous and equal to beasts? But Geryon too was laden with cattle, and had three heads; and with the cattle, I think, he was also deprived of these. Nor did he leave Hades untried of his virtue, having taken up battle against the dog there and shown the monster to the sun. Golden apples were also needed for Eurystheus, lying at the edge of the earth; the apples were of the Hesperides, and a dragon was guardian, not to be borne in might. But he lay struck, and the apples were for Eurystheus. These are the works and labors of Heracles; from these come the seasons and crowns and bronze winged contrary to nature. Having thrust aside the bronze doors and with the contest having appeared, an eagle follows from above, having spread its wings and with both feet equal to the head, bearing the crown; it tarries a little, as if enjoying the heroic head.

Then, releasing this one to Heracles and spreading his feet apart, he is raised up and obtains the place he had, placing the wings upon his sides and drawing them back again upon himself, giving good prey, but he did not come together with what he obtained. Moreover, toward the crowns, Heracles leans forward, so that he might be seen by all as in the middle of a stadium, and then he turned to his own place, where he longed to arrive. An eagle serves the crown, since Zeus is the father of Heracles, and the eagle is the bird of Zeus. Thus, as from heaven and from his father, it crowns the victor with the reward of his labors in memory of his suffering; and it flies above and rules over the birds, just as this one was exalted in fame. He does not, indeed, need a herald proclaiming the crowns. In another place, occupying a middle position, large and skilled at causing astonishment and set before the others, he does not yet draw a beard, but stands naked, except that the lion's skin is hung behind from his shoulders, and he holds up a shield with his left hand. This is called a lion, the craftsman said; and from the middle it hangs and sways; he is armed with a club, giving his right hand in exchange for its roar, and he raises this and strikes the bronze; and being suspended in the air and struck with such force, it roars loudly and prolongs the sound. For one contest, one blow; for the second hour, a double blow. For on each hour he also collects the number of contests that have been completed, until he fills them; likewise six, not increasing these.

fills the hearing, wearying it, he considers the seventh first and sounds one, then also two and so on, indicating the others until the bronze sounds as many as are needed for a second six. It is heard more clearly than if the spectacle were present. For those far off, it is easy to know the measure of time. Pan also hears; he is shown to have a thick beard and a double horn on his forehead. He fell in love with Echo, who gave Pan over to laughter with her games. Desiring Echo, he perceives the bronze and, astonished, raises his right hand and turns his face about, twisting himself in the ways that unsuccessful love produces, to see if he might somehow see the girl. You would say that he also marvels at Heracles, how great and what sort he is. Since Pan was present, it was necessary that Satyrs not be absent. They laugh and, having taken Pan in the middle in a comic manner, they see a face both erotic and wild, and a character mixed, gentle and harsh. But these are above the head of the temple, where the son of Alcmene is seen naked. The son of Tydeus, having obtained a position on the right, was then also now a friend of the trumpet; for he calls out to Heracles, who has come to his final labor, just as he found the son of Peleus on Scyros. For he sang so much then as well, measuring equal days. A certain servant, having heard, brings the preparation for the bath to his master, as is likely, since the dishes are already prepared. Another, carrying these from the market at the beginning of the day, hurries. Both seem to serve a difficult master; otherwise the running would not be so great.

And that shepherd, having drawn the opposite station, having handed over to his left hand—to speak poetically—the crook, both rejoices and smiles and raises his right hand in wonder. But for this one, there is sound and wonder and trumpet concerning the contests. Taking up the twelfth of the contests from above, this wise man gives it to a greater Heracles. This one is an archer stationed under Diomedes, and the contest is again golden apples. So this one placed an arrow on the string, drawn to the breast by the right hand, while the left hand pushes the bow, the arrow projecting outward from the middle of both to such a length beyond the projected point. For precise aim, he concentrates his gaze upon a narrow target, about to release the arrow...