Καὶ νηοὺς ποίησε θεῶν, καὶ ἐδάσσατ᾽ ἀρούρας.
The vineyard, olive-ground, and garden of Laërtes, is a model of careful cultivation (Odyss. xxiv. 245); see also the shield of Achilles (Iliad, xvii. 541-580), and the Kalydônian plain (Iliad, ix. 575).
[196] Odyss. x. 106-115; Iliad, xx. 216.
[197] Thucyd. i. 10. Καὶ ὅτι μὲν Μυκῆναι μικρὸν ἦν, ἢ εἴ τι τῶν τότε πόλισμα νῦν μὴ ἀξιόχρεων δοκεῖ εἶναι, etc.
[198] Nägelsbach, Homerische Theologie, Abschn. v. sect. 54. Hesiod strongly condemns robbery,—Δὼς ἀγαθὴ, ἅρπαξ δὲ κακὴ, θανάτοιο δότειρα (Opp. Di. 356, comp. 320); but the sentiment of the Grecian heroic poetry seems not to go against it,—it is looked upon as a natural employment of superior force,—Αὐτόματοι δ᾽ ἀγαθοὶ δειλῶν ἐπὶ δαῖτας ἴασιν (Athenæ. v. p. 178; comp. Pindar, Fragm. 48, ed. Dissen.): the long spear, sword, and breastplate, of the Kretan Hybreas, constitute his wealth (Skolion 27, p. 877; Poet. Lyric. ed. Bergk), wherewith he ploughs and reaps,—while the unwarlike, who dare not or cannot wield these weapons, fall at his feet, and call him The Great King. The feeling is different in the later age of Demêtrius Poliorkêtês (about 310 B. C.): in the Ithyphallic Ode, addressed to him at his entrance into Athens, robbery is treated as worthy only of Ætolians:—
Αἰτωλικὸν γὰγ ἁρπάσαι τὰ τῶν πέλας,
Νυνὶ δὲ, καὶ τὰ πόῤῥω.—
(Poet. Lyr. xxv. p. 453, ed. Schneid.)
The robberies of powerful men, and even highway robbery generally found considerable approving sentiment in the Middle Ages. “All Europe (observes Mr. Hallam, Hist. Mid. Ag. ch. viii. part 3, p. 247) was a scene of intestine anarchy during the Middle Ages: and though England was far less exposed to the scourge of private war than most nations on the continent, we should find, could we recover the local annals of every country, such an accumulation of petty rapine and tumult, as would almost alienate us from the liberty which served to engender it.... Highway robbery was from the earliest times a sort of national crime.... We know how long the outlaws of Sherwood lived in tradition; men who, like some of their betters, have been permitted to redeem, by a few acts of generosity, the just ignominy of extensive crimes. These, indeed, were the heroes of vulgar applause; but when such a judge as Sir John Fortescue could exult, that more Englishmen were hanged for robbery in one year than French in seven,—and that, if an Englishman be poor, and see another having riches, which may be taken from him by might, he will not spare to do so,—it may be perceived how thoroughly these sentiments had pervaded the public mind.”
The robberies habitually committed by the noblesse of France and Germany during the Middle Ages, so much worse than anything in England,—and those of the highland chiefs even in later times,—are too well known to need any references: as to France, an ample catalogue is set forth in Dulaure’s Histoire de la Noblesse (Paris, 1792). The confederations of the German cities chiefly originated in the necessity of keeping the roads and rivers open for the transit of men and goods against the nobles who infested the high roads. Scaliger might have found a parallel to the λῃσταὶ of the heroic ages in the noblesse of la Rouergue, as it stood even in the 16th century, which he thus describes: “In Comitatu Rodez pessimi sunt; nobilitas ibi latrocinatur: nec possunt reprimi.” (ap. Dulaure, c. 9.)