HISTORY OF GREECE.
BY
GEORGE GROTE, Esq.
VOL. III.
REPRINTED FROM THE SECOND LONDON EDITION.
NEW YORK:
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS
329 AND 331 PEARL STREET
CONTENTS.
VOL. III.
PART II.
CONTINUATION OF HISTORICAL GREECE.
CHAPTER IX.
CORINTH, SIKYON, AND MEGARA. — AGE OF THE GRECIAN DESPOTS.
Early commerce and enterprise of the Corinthians. — Oligarchy of the Bacchiadæ. — Early condition of Megara. — Early condition of Sikyôn. — Rise of the despots. — Earliest changes of government in Greece. — Peculiarity of Sparta. — Discontinuance of kingship in Greece generally. — Comparison with the Middle Ages of Europe. — Anti-monarchical sentiment of Greece — Mr. Mitford. — Causes which led to the growth of that sentiment. — Change to oligarchical government. — Such change indicates an advance in the Greek mind. — Dissatisfaction with the oligarchies — modes by which the despots acquired power. — Examples. — Tendency towards a better organized citizenship. — Character and working of the despots. — The demagogue-despot of the earlier times compared with the demagogue of later times. — Contrast between the despot and the early heroic king. — Position of the despot. — Good government impossible to him. — Conflict between oligarchy and despotism preceded that between oligarchy and democracy. — Early oligarchies included a multiplicity of different sections and associations. — Government of the Geomori — a close order of present or past proprietors. — Classes of the people. — Military force of the early oligarchies consisted of cavalry. — Rise of the heavy-armed infantry and of the free military marine — both unfavorable to oligarchy. — Dorian states — Dorian and non-Dorian inhabitants. — Dynasty of despots at Sikyôn — the Orthagoridæ. — Violent proceedings of Kleisthenês. — Classes of the Sikyonian population. — Fall of the Orthagoridæ — state of Sikyôn after it. — The Sikyonian despots not put down by Sparta. — Despots at Corinth — Kypselus. — Periander. — Great power of Corinth under Periander. — Fall of the Kypselid dynasty. — Megara — Theagenês the despot. — Disturbed government at Megara — The poet Theognis. — Analogy of Corinth, Sikyôn, and Megara.
pages [1-47]
CHAPTER X.
IONIC PORTION OF HELLAS. — ATHENS BEFORE SOLON.
History of Athens before Drako — only a list of names. — No king after Kodrus. — Life archons. — Decennial archons. — Annual archons, nine in number. — Archonship of Kreôn. B. C. 683 — commencement of Attic chronology. — Obscurity of the civil condition of Attica before Solon. — Alleged duodecimal division of Attica in early times. — Four Ionic tribes — Geleontes, Hoplêtes, Ægikoreis, Argadeis. — These names are not names of castes or professions. — Component portions of the four tribes. — The Trittys and the Naukrary. — The Phratry and the Gens. — What constituted the gens or gentile communion. — Artificial enlargement of the primitive family association. Ideas of worship and ancestry coalesce. — Belief in a common divine ancestor. — This ancestry fabulous, yet still accredited. — Analogies from other nations. — Roman and Grecian gentes. — Rights and obligations of the gentile and phratric brethren. — The gens and phratry after the revolution of Kleisthenês became extra-political. — Many distinct political communities originally in Athens. — Theseus. — Long continuance of the cantonal feeling. — What demes were originally independent of Athens. — Eleusis. — Eupatridæ, Geômori, and Demiurgi. — Eupatridæ originally held all political power. — Senate of Areopagus. — The nine archons — their functions. — Drako and his laws. — Different tribunals for homicide at Athens. — Regulations of Drako about the Ephetæ. — Local superstitions at Athens about trial of homicide. — Attempted usurpation by Kylôn. — His failure, and massacre of his partisans by order of the Alkmæônids. — Trial and condemnation of the Alkmæônids. — Pestilence and suffering at Athens. — Mystic sects and brotherhoods in the sixth century B. C. — Epimenidês of Krete. — Epimenidês visits and purifies Athens. — His life and character. — Contrast of his age with that of Plato.
CHAPTER XI.
SOLONIAN LAWS AND CONSTITUTION.
Life, character, and poems of Solon. — War between Athens and Megara about Salamis. — Acquisition of Salamis by Athens. — Settlement of the dispute by Spartan arbitration in favor of Athens. — State of Athens immediately before the legislation of Solon. — Internal dissension — misery of the poorer population. — Slavery of the debtors — law of debtor and creditor. — Injustice and rapacity of the rich. — General mutiny, and necessity for a large reform. — Solon made archon, and invested with full powers of legislation. — He refuses to make himself despot. — His seisachtheia, or relief-law for the poorer debtors. — Debasing of the money standard. — General popularity of the measure after partial dissatisfaction. — Different statements afterwards as to the nature and extent of the seisachtheia. — Necessity of the measure — mischievous contracts to which the previous law had given rise. — Solon’s law finally settled the question — no subsequent complaint as to private debts — respect for contracts unbroken under the democracy. — Distinction made in an early society between the principal and the interest of a loan — interest disapproved of in toto. — This opinion was retained by the philosophers after it had ceased to prevail in the community generally. — Solonian seisachtheia never imitated at Athens — money-standard honestly maintained afterwards. — Solon is empowered to modify the political constitution. — His census — four scales of property. — Graduated liability to income-tax, of the three richest classes, one compared with the other. — Admeasurement of political rights and franchises according to this scale — a Timocracy. — Fourth or poorest class — exercised powers only in assembly — chose magistrates and held them to accountability. — Pro-bouleutic or pre-considering Senate of Four Hundred. — Senate of Areopagus — its powers enlarged. — Confusion frequently seen between Solonian and post-Solonian institutions. — Loose language of the Athenian orators on this point. — Solon never contemplated the future change or revision of his own laws. — Solon laid the foundation of the Athenian democracy, but his institutions are not democratical. — The real Athenian democracy begins with Kleisthenês. — Athenian government after Solon still oligarchical, but mitigated. — The archons still continue to be judges until after the time of Kleisthenês. — After-changes in the Athenian constitution overlooked by the orators, but understood by Aristotle, and strongly felt at Athens during the time of Periklês. — Gentes and Phratries under the Solonian constitution — status of persons not included in them. — Laws of Solon. — The Drakonian laws about homicide retained; the rest abrogated. — Multifarious character of the laws of Solon: no appearance of classification. — He prohibits the export of landed produce from Attica, except oil. — The prohibition of little or no effect. — Encouragement to artisans and industry. — Power of testamentary bequest — first sanctioned by Solon. — Laws relating to women. — Regulations about funerals. — About evil-speaking and abusive language. — Rewards to the victors at the sacred games. — Theft. — Censure pronounced by Solon upon citizens neutral in a sedition. — Necessity, under the Grecian city-governments, of some positive sentiment on the part of the citizens. — Contrast in this respect between the age of Solon and the subsequent democracy. — The same idea followed out in the subsequent Ostracism. — Sentiment of Solon towards the Homeric poems and the drama. — Difficulties of Solon after the enactment of the laws. — He retires from Attica. — Visits Egypt and Cyprus. — Alleged interview and conversation of Solon with Crœsus at Sardis. — Moral lesson arising out of the narrative. — State of Attica after the Solonian legislation. — Return of Solon to Athens. — Rise of Peisistratus. — His memorable stratagem to procure a guard from the people. — Peisistratus seizes the Akropolis and becomes despot — courageous resistance of Solon. — Death of Solon — his character. — Appendix, on the procedure of the Roman law respecting principal and interest in a loan of money.
CHAPTER XII.
EUBŒA. — CYCLADES.
The islands called Cyclades. — Eubœa. — Its six or seven towns — Chalkis, Eretria, etc. — How peopled. — Early power of Chalkis, Eretria, Naxos etc. — Early Ionic festival at Dêlos; crowded and wealthy. — Its decline about 560 B. C. — causes thereof. — Homeric Hymn to the Delian Apollo — evidence as to early Ionic life. — War between Chalkis and Eretria in early times — extensive alliances of each. — Commerce and colonies of Chalkis and Eretria — Euboic scale of money and weight. — Three different Grecian scales — Æginæan, Euboic, and Attic — their ratio to each other.
CHAPTER XIII.
ASIATIC IONIANS.
Twelve Ionic cities in Asia. — Legendary event called the Ionic migration. — Emigrants to these cities — diverse Greeks. — Great differences of dialect among the twelve cities. — Ionic cities really founded by different migrations. — Consequences of the mixture of inhabitants in these colonies — more activity — more instability. — Mobility ascribed to the Ionic race as compared with the Doric — arises from this cause. — Ionic cities in Asia — mixed with indigenous inhabitants. — Worship of Apollo and Artemis — existed on the Asiatic coast prior to the Greek emigrants — adopted by them. — Pan-Ionic festival and Amphiktyony on the promontory of Mykalê. — Situation of Milêtus — of the other Ionic cities. — Territories interspersed with Asiatic villages. — Magnêsia on the Mæander — Magnêsia on Mount Sipylus. — Ephesus — Androklus the Œkist — first settlement and distribution. — Increase and acquisitions of Ephesus. — Kolophôn, its origin and history. — Temple of Apollo at Klarus, near Kolophôn — its legends. — Lebedus, Teôs, Klazomenæ, etc. — Internal distribution of the inhabitants of Teôs. — Erythræ and Chios. — Klazomenæ — Phôkæa. — Smyrna.
CHAPTER XIV.
ÆOLIC GREEKS IN ASIA.
Twelve cities of Æolic Greeks. — Their situation — eleven near together on the Elæitic gulf. — Legendary Æolic migration. — Kymê — the earliest as well as the most powerful of the twelve. — Magnêsia ad Sipylum. — Lesbos. — Early inhabitants of Lesbos before the Æolians. — Æolic establishments in the region of Mount Ida. — Continental settlements of Lesbos and Tenedos. — Ante-Hellenic inhabitants in the region of Mount Ida — Mysians and Teukrians. — Teukrians of Gergis. — Mitylênê — its political dissensions — its poets. — Power and merit of Pittakus. — Alkæus the poet — his flight from battle. — Bitter opposition of Pittakus and Alkæus in internal politics. — Pittakus is created Æsymnete, or Dictator of Mitylênê.
CHAPTER XV.
ASIATIC DORIANS.
Asiatic Dorians — their Hexapolis. — Other Dorians, not included in the Hexapolis. — Exclusion of Halikarnassus from the Hexapolis.
CHAPTER XVI.
NATIVES OF ASIA MINOR WITH WHOM THE GREEKS BECAME CONNECTED.
Indigenous nations of Asia Minor — Homeric geography. — Features of the country. — Names and situations of the different people. — Not originally aggregated into large kingdoms or cities. — River Halys — the ethnographical boundary — Syro-Arabians eastward of that river. — Thracian race — in the north of Asia Minor. — Ethnical affinities and migrations. — Partial identity of legends. — Phrygians. — Their influence upon the early Greek colonists. — Greek musical scale — partly borrowed from the Phrygians. — Phrygian music and worship among the Greeks in Asia Minor. — Character of Phrygians, Lydians, and Mysians. — Primitive Phrygian king or hero Gordius — Midas.
CHAPTER XVII.
LYDIANS. — MEDES. — CIMMERIANS. — SCYTHIANS.
Lydians — their music and instruments. — They and their capital Sardis unknown to Homer. — Early Lydian kings. — Kandaulês and Gygês. — The Mermnad dynasty succeeds to the Herakleid. — Legend of Gygês in Plato. — Feminine influence running through the legends of Asia Minor. — Distribution of Lydia into two parts — Lydia and Torrhêbia. — Proceedings of Gygês. — His son and successor Ardys. — Assyrians and Medes. — First Median king — Dêïokês. — His history composed of Grecian materials, not Oriental. — Phraortês — Kyaxarês. — Siege of Nineveh — invasion of the Scythians and Cimmerians. — The Cimmerians. — The Scythians. — Grecian settlements on the coast of the Euxine. — Scythia as described by Herodotus. — Tribes of Scythians. — Manners and worship. — Scythians formidable from numbers and courage. — Sarmatians. — Tribes east and north of the Palus Mæotis. — Tauri in the Crimea — Massagetæ. — Invasion of Asia by Scythians and Cimmerians. — Cimmerians driven out of their country by the Scythians. — Difficulties in the narrative of Herodotus. — Cimmerians in Asia Minor. — Scythians in Upper Asia. — Expulsion of these Nomads, after a temporary occupation. — Lydian kings Sadyattês and Alyattês — war against Milêtus. — Sacrilege committed by Alyattês — oracle — he makes peace with Milêtus. — Long reign — death — and sepulchre, of Alyattês. — Crœsus. — He attacks and conquers the Asiatic Greeks. — Want of coöperation among the Ionic cities. — Unavailing suggestion of Thalês — to merge the twelve Ionic cities into one Pan-Ionic city at Teôs. — Capture of Ephesus. — Crœsus becomes king of all Asia westward of the Halys. — New and important era for the Hellenic world — commencing with the conquests of Crœsus. — Action of the Lydian empire continued on a still larger scale by the Persians.
CHAPTER XVIII.
PHENICIANS.
Phenicians and Assyrians — members of the Semitic family of the human race. — Early presence of Phenician ships in the Grecian seas — in the Homeric times. — Situation and cities of Phenicia. — Phenician commerce flourished more in the earlier than in the later times of Greece. — Phenician colonies — Utica, Carthage, Gadês, etc. — Commerce of the Phenicians of Gadês — towards Africa on one side and Britain on the other. — Productive region round Gadês, called Tartêssus. — Phenicians and Carthaginians — the establishments of the latter combined views of empire with views of commerce. — Phenicians and Greeks in Sicily and Cyprus — the latter partially supplant the former. — Iberia and Tartêssus — unvisited by the Greeks before about 630 B. C. — Memorable voyage of the Samian Kôlæus to Tartêssus. — Exploring voyages of the Phôkæans, between 630-570 B. C. — Important addition to Grecian geographical knowledge, and stimulus to Grecian fancy, thus communicated. — Circumnavigation of Africa by the Phenicians. — This circumnavigation was really accomplished — doubts of critics, ancient and modern, examined. — Caravan-trade by land carried on by the Phenicians.
CHAPTER XIX.
ASSYRIANS. — BABYLON.
Assyrians — their name rests chiefly on Nineveh and Babylon. — Chaldæans at Babylon — order of priests. — Their astronomical observations. — Babylonia — its laborious cultivation and fertility. — City of Babylon — its dimensions and walls. — Babylon — only known during the time of its degradation — yet even then the first city in Western Asia. — Immense command of human labor possessed by the Babylonian kings. — Collective civilization in Asia, without individual freedom or development. — Graduated contrast between Egyptians, Assyrians, Phenicians, and Greeks. — Deserts and predatory tribes surrounding the Babylonians. — Appendix, “Nineveh and its Remains,” by Mr. Layard.
CHAPTER XX.
EGYPTIANS.
Phenicians — the link of commerce between Egypt and Assyria. — Herodotus — earliest Grecian informant about Egypt. — The Nile in the time of Herodotus. — Thebes and Upper Egypt — of more importance in early times than Lower Egypt, but not so in the days of Herodotus. — Egyptian castes or hereditary professions. — Priests. — The military order. — Different statements about the castes. — Large town population of Egypt. — Profound submission of the people. — Destructive toil imposed by the great monuments. — Worship of animals. — Egyptian kings — taken from different parts of the country. — Relations of Egypt with Assyria. — Egyptian history not known before Psammetichus. — First introduction of Greeks into Egypt under Psammetichus — stories connected with it. — Importance of Grecian mercenaries to the Egyptian kings — caste of interpreters. — Opening of the Kanôpic branch of the Nile to Greek commerce — Greek establishment at Naukratis. — Discontents and mutiny of the Egyptian military order. — Nekôs son of Psammetichus — his active operations. — Defeated by Nebuchadnezzar at Carchemisch. — Psammis, the son of Nekôs. — Apriês. — Amasis — dethrones Apriês by means of the native soldiers. — He encourages Grecian commerce. — Important factory and religious establishment for the Greeks at Naukratis. — Prosperity of Egypt under Amasis. — Appendix, on the Egyptian chronology given by Manetho, as explained by M. Boeckh.
CHAPTER XXI.
DECLINE OF THE PHENICIANS. — GROWTH OF CARTHAGE.
Decline of the Phenicians — growth of Grecian marine and commerce. — Effect of Phenicians, Assyrians, and Egyptians on the Greek mind. — The alphabet. — The scale of money and weight. — The gnomon — and the division of the day. — Carthage. — Era of Carthage. — Dominion of Carthage. — Dido. — First known collision of Greeks and Carthaginians — Massalia. — Amicable relations between Tyre and Carthage.
CHAPTER XXII.
WESTERN COLONIES OF GREECE — IN EPIRUS, ITALY, SICILY, AND GAUL.
Early unauthenticated emigration from Greece. — Ante-Hellenic population of Sicily — Sikels — Sikans — Elymi — Phenicians. — Œnotria — Italia. — Pelasgi in Italy. — Latins — Œnotrians — Epirots — ethnically cognate. — Analogy of languages — Greek, Latin, and Oscan. — Grecian colonization of ascertained date in Sicily — commences in 735 B. C. — Cumæ in Campania — earlier — date unknown. — Prosperity of Cumæ between 700-500 B. C. — Decline of Cumæ from 500 B. C. — Revolution — despotism of Aristodêmus. — Invasion of Cumæ by Tuscans and Samnites from the interior. — Rapid multiplication of Grecian colonies in Sicily and Italy, beginning with 735 B. C. — Foundation of Naxos in Sicily by Theoklês. — Spot where the Greeks first landed in Sicily — memorable afterwards. — Ante-Hellenic distribution of Sicily. — Foundation of Syracuse. — Leontini and Katana. — Megara in Sicily. — Gela. — Zanklê, afterwards Messênê (Messina). — Sub-colonies — Akræ, Kasmenæ, Kamarina, etc. — Agrigentum, Selinûs, Himera, etc. — Prosperity of the Sicilian Greeks. — Mixed character of the population. — Peculiarity of the monetary and statical system, among the Sicilian and Italian Greeks. — Sikels and Sikans gradually Hellenized. — Difference between the Greeks in Sicily and those in Greece proper. — Native population in Sicily not numerous enough to become formidable to the Greek settlers. — Sikel prince Duketius. — Grecian colonies in southern Italy. — Native population and territory. — Sybaris and Krotôn. — Territory and colonies of Sybaris and Krotôn. — Epizephyrian Lokri. — Original settlers of Lokri — their character and circumstances. — Treachery towards the indigenous Sikels. — Mixture of Sikels in their territory — Sikel customs adopted. — Lokrian lawgiver Zaleukus. — Rigor of his laws — government of Lokri. — Rhêgium. — Chalkidic settlements in Italy and Sicily — Rhêgium, Zanklê, Naxos, Katana, Leontini. — Kaulônia and Skyllêtium. — Siris or Hêrakleia. — Metapontium. — Tarentum — circumstances of its foundation. — The Partheniæ — Phalanthus the œkist. — Situation and territory of Tarentum. — Iapygians. — Messapians. — Prosperity of the Italian Greeks between 700-500 B. C. — Ascendency over the Œnotrian population. — Krotôn and Sybaris — at their maximum from 560-510 B. C. — The Sybarites — their luxury — their organization, industry, and power. — Grecian world about 560 B. C. — Ionic and Italic Greeks are then the most prominent among Greeks. — Consequences of the fall of Sybaris. — Krotoniates — their salubrity, strength, success in the Olympic games, etc. — Massalia.
CHAPTER XXIII.
GRECIAN COLONIES IN AND NEAR EPIRUS.
Korkyra. — Early foundation of Korkyra from Corinth. — Relations of Korkyra with Corinth. — Relations with Epirus. — Ambrakia founded by Corinth. — Joint settlements by Corinth and Korkyra. — Leukas and Anaktorium. — Apollonia and Epidamnus. — Relations between these colonies — Commerce.
CHAPTER XXIV.
AKARNANIANS. — EPIROTS.
Akarnanians. — Their social and political condition. — Epirots — comprising different tribes, with little or no ethnical kindred. — Some of these tribes ethnically connected with those of southern Italy; — others, with the Macedonians — impossible to mark the boundaries. — Territory distributed into villages — no considerable cities. — Coast of Epirus discouraging to Grecian colonization. — Some Epirotic tribes governed by kings, others not.
HISTORY OF GREECE.
PART II.
CONTINUATION OF HISTORICAL GREECE.
CHAPTER IX.
CORINTH, SIKYON, AND MEGARA. — AGE OF THE GRECIAN DESPOTS.
The preceding volume brought down the history of Sparta to the period marked by the reign of Peisistratus at Athens; at which time she had attained her maximum of territory, was confessedly the most powerful state in Greece, and enjoyed a proportionate degree of deference from the rest. I now proceed to touch upon the three Dorian cities on and near to the Isthmus,—Corinth, Sikyôn, and Megara, as they existed at this same period.
Even amidst the scanty information which has reached us, we trace the marks of considerable maritime energy and commerce among the Corinthians, as far back as the eighth century B. C. The foundation of Korkyra and Syracuse, in the 11th Olympiad, or 734 B. C. (of which I shall speak farther in connection with Grecian colonization generally), by expeditions from Corinth, affords a good proof that they knew how to turn to account the excellent situation which connected them with the sea on both sides of Peloponnesus: and Thucydides,[1] while he notices them as the chief liberators of the sea, in early times, from pirates, also tells us that the first great improvement in ship-building,—the construction of the trireme, or ship of war, with a full deck and triple banks for the rowers,—was the fruit of Corinthian ingenuity. It was in the year 703 B. C., that the Corinthian Ameinoklês built four triremes for the Samians, the first which those islanders had ever possessed: the notice of this fact attests as well the importance attached to the new invention, as the humble scale on which the naval force in those early days was equipped. And it is a fact of not less moment, in proof of the maritime vigor of Corinth in the seventh century B. C., that the earliest naval battle known to Thucydides was one which took place between the Corinthians and the Korkyræans, B. C. 664.[2]
It has already been stated, in the preceding volume, that the line of Herakleid kings in Corinth subsides gradually, through a series of empty names, into the oligarchy denominated Bacchiadæ, or Bacchiads, under whom our first historical knowledge of the city begins. The persons so named were all accounted descendants of Hêraklês, and formed the governing caste in the city; intermarrying usually among themselves, and choosing from their own number an annual prytanis, or president, for the administration of affairs. Of their internal government we have no accounts, except the tale respecting Archias the founder of Syracuse,[3] one of their number, who had made himself so detested by an act of brutal violence terminating in the death of the beautiful youth Aktæôn, as to be forced to expatriate. That such a man should have been placed in the distinguished post of œkist of the colony of Syracuse, gives us no favorable idea of the Bacchiad oligarchy: we do not, however, know upon what original authority the story depends, nor can we be sure that it is accurately recounted. But Corinth, under their government, was already a powerful commercial and maritime city, as has already been stated.
Megara, the last Dorian state in this direction eastward, and conterminous with Attica at the point where the mountains called Kerāta descend to Eleusis and the Thracian plain, is affirmed to have been originally settled by the Dorians of Corinth, and to have remained for some time a dependency of that city. It is farther said to have been at first merely one of five separate villages,—Megara, Heræa, Peiræa, Kynosura, Tripodiskus,—inhabited by a kindred population, and generally on friendly terms, yet sometimes distracted by quarrels, and on those occasions carrying on war with a degree of lenity and chivalrous confidence which reverses the proverbial affirmation respecting the sanguinary character of enmities between kindred. Both these two statements are transmitted to us (we know not from what primitive source) as explanatory of certain current phrases:[4] the author of the latter cannot have agreed with the author of the former in considering the Corinthians as masters of the Megarid, because he represents them as fomenting wars among these five villages for the purpose of acquiring that territory. Whatever may be the truth respecting this alleged early subjection of Megara, we know it[5] in the historical age, and that too as early as the 14th Olympiad, only as an independent Dorian city, maintaining the integrity of its territory under its leader Orsippus, the famous Olympic runner, against some powerful enemies, probably the Corinthians. It was of no mean consideration, possessing a territory which extended across Mount Geraneia to the Corinthian gulf, on which the fortified town and port of Pêgæ, belonging to the Megarians, was situated; it was mother of early and distant colonies,—and competent, during the time of Solon, to carry on a protracted contest with the Athenians, for the possession of Salamis, wherein, although the latter were at last victorious, it was not without an intermediate period of ill-success and despair.
Of the early history of Sikyôn, from the period when it became Dorian down to the seventh century B. C., we know nothing. Our first information respecting it, concerns the establishment of the despotism of Orthagoras, about 680-670 B. C. And it is a point deserving of notice, that all the three above-mentioned towns,—Corinth, Sikyôn, and Megara,—underwent during the course of this same century a similar change of government. In each of them a despot established himself; Orthagoras in Sikyôn; Kypselus in Corinth; Theagenês in Megara.
Unfortunately, we have too little evidence as to the state of things by which this change of government was preceded and brought about, to be able to appreciate fully its bearing. But what draws our attention to it more particularly is, that the like phenomenon seems to have occurred contemporaneously throughout a large number of cities, continental, insular, and colonial, in many different parts of the Grecian world. The period between 650 and 500 B. C., witnessed the rise and downfall of many despots and despotic dynasties, each in its own separate city. During the succeeding interval between 500 and 350 B. C., new despots, though occasionally springing up, become more rare; political dispute takes another turn, and the question is raised directly and ostensibly between the many and the few,—the people and the oligarchy. But in the still later times which follow the battle of Chæroneia, in proportion as Greece, declining in civic not less than in military spirit, is driven to the constant employment of mercenary troops, and humbled by the overruling interference of foreigners,—the despot with his standing foreign body-guard becomes again a characteristic of the time; a tendency partially counteracted, but never wholly subdued, by Aratus, and the Achæan league of the third century B. C.
It would have been instructive if we had possessed a faithful record of these changes of government in some of the more considerable of the Grecian towns; but in the absence of such evidence we can do little more than collect the brief sentences of Aristotle and others respecting the causes which produced them. For as the like change of government was common, near about the same time, to cities very different in locality, in race of inhabitants, in tastes and habits, and in wealth, it must partly have depended upon certain general causes which admit of being assigned and explained.
In the preceding volume, I tried to elucidate the heroic government of Greece, so far as it could be known from the epic poems,—a government founded (if we may employ modern phraseology) upon divine right as opposed to the sovereignty of the people, but requiring, as an essential condition, that the king shall possess force, both of body and mind, not unworthy of the exalted breed to which he belongs.[6] In this government, the authority which pervades the whole society, all resides in the king; but on important occasions it is exercised through the forms of publicity; he consults, and even discusses, with the council of chiefs or elders,—he communicates after such consultation with the assembled agora,—who hear and approve, perhaps hear and murmur, but are not understood to exercise an option or to reject. In giving an account of the Lykurgean system, I remarked that the old primitive Rhetræ, or charters of compact, indicated the existence of these same elements; a king of superhuman lineage (in this particular case two coördinate kings),—a senate of twenty-eight old men, besides the kings who sat in it,—and an ekklesia, or public assembly of citizens, convened for the purpose of approving or rejecting propositions submitted to them, with little or no liberty of discussion. The elements of the heroic government of Greece are thus found to be substantially the same as those existing in the primitive Lykurgean constitution: in both cases the predominant force residing in the kings,—and the functions of the senate, still more those of the public assembly, being comparatively narrow and restricted; in both cases the regal authority being upheld by a certain religious sentiment, which tended to exclude rivalry and to insure submission in the people up to a certain point, in spite of misconduct or deficiency in the reigning individual. Among the principal Epirotic tribes, this government subsisted down to the third century B. C.[7], though some of them had passed out of it, and were in the habit of electing annually a president out of the gens to which the king belonged. Starting from these points, common to the Grecian heroic government, and to the original Lykurgean system, we find that in the Grecian cities generally, the king is replaced by an oligarchy, consisting of a limited number of families,—while at Sparta, the kingly authority, though greatly curtailed, is never abolished. And the different turn of events at Sparta admits of being partially explained. It so happened that, for five centuries, neither of the two coördinate lines of Spartan kings was ever without some male representatives, so that the sentiment of divine right, upon which their preëminence was founded, always proceeded in an undeviating channel. That sentiment never wholly died out in the tenacious mind of Sparta, but it became sufficiently enfeebled to occasion a demand for guarantees against abuse. If the senate had been a more numerous body, composed of a few principal families, and comprising men of all ages, it might, perhaps, have extended its powers so much as to absorb those of the king: but a council of twenty-eight very old men, chosen indiscriminately from all Spartan families, was essentially an adjunct and secondary force. It was insufficient even as a restraint upon the king,—still less was it competent to become his rival; and it served indirectly even as a support to him, by preventing the formation of any other privileged order powerful enough to be an overmatch for his authority. This insufficiency on the part of the senate was one of the causes which occasioned the formation of the annually-renewed Council of Five, called the Ephors; originally a defensive board, like the Roman Tribunes, intended as a restraint upon abuse of power in the kings, but afterwards expanding into a paramount and unresponsible Executive Directory. Assisted by endless dissensions between the two coördinate kings, the ephors encroached upon their power on every side, limited them to certain special functions, and even rendered them accountable and liable to punishment, but never aspired to abolish the dignity. That which the regal authority lost in extent (to borrow the just remark of king Theopompus)[8] it gained in durability: the descendants of the twins Eurysthenês and Proklês continued in possession of their double sceptre from the earliest historical times down to the revolutions of Agis the Third, and Kleomenês the Third,—generals of the military force, growing richer and richer, and reverenced as well as influential in the state, though the directory of ephors were their superiors. And the ephors became, in time, quite as despotic, in reference to internal affairs, as the kings could ever have been before them; for the Spartan mind, deeply possessed with the feelings of command and obedience, remained comparatively insensible to the ideas of control and responsibility, and even averse to that open discussion and censure of public measures, or officers, which such ideas imply. We must recollect that the Spartan political constitution was both simplified in its character, and aided in its working, by the comprehensive range of the Lykurgean discipline, with its rigorous equal pressure upon rich and poor, which averted many of the causes elsewhere productive of sedition,—habituating the proudest and most refractory citizen to a life of undeviating obedience,—satisfying such demand as existed for system and regularity,—rendering Spartan personal habits of life much more equal than even democratical Athens could parallel; but contributing, at the same time, to engender a contempt for talkers, and a dislike of methodical and prolonged speech, which of itself sufficed to exclude all regular interference of the collective citizens, either in political or judicial affairs.
Such were the facts at Sparta; but in the rest of Greece the primitive heroic government was modified in a very different manner: the people outgrew, much more decidedly, that feeling of divine right and personal reverence which originally gave authority to the king. Willing submission ceased on the part of the people, and still more on the part of the inferior chiefs, and with it ceased the heroic royalty. Something like a system or constitution came to be demanded.
Of this discontinuance of kingship, so universal in the political march of Hellas, the prime cause is, doubtless, to be sought in the smallness and concentrated residence of each distinct Hellenic society. A single chief, perpetual and unresponsible, was noway essential for the maintenance of union. In modern Europe, for the most part, the different political societies which grew up out of the extinction of the Roman empire embraced each a considerable population and a wide extent of territory and the monarchical form presented itself as the only known means of union between the parts, the only visible and imposing symbol of a national identity. Both the military character of the Teutonic invaders, as well as the traditions of the Roman empire which they dismembered, tended towards the establishment of a monarchical chief, the abolition of whose dignity would have been looked upon as equivalent, and would really have been equivalent, to the breaking up of the nation, since the maintenance of a collective union by means of general assemblies was so burdensome, that the kings themselves vainly tried to exact it by force, and representative government was then unknown.
The history of the Middle Ages, though exhibiting constant resistance on the part of powerful subjects, frequent deposition of individual kings, and occasional changes of dynasty, contains few instances of any attempt to maintain a large political aggregate united without a king, either hereditary or elective. Even towards the close of the last century, at the period when the federal constitution of the United States of America was first formed, many reasoners regarded[9] as an impossibility the application of any other system than the monarchical to a territory of large size and population, so as to combine union of the whole with equal privileges and securities to each of the parts. And it might, perhaps, be a real impossibility among any rude people, with strong local peculiarities, difficult means of communication, and habits of representative government not yet acquired. Hence, throughout all the larger nations of mediæval and modern Europe, with few exceptions, the prevailing sentiment has been favorable to monarchy; but wherever any single city, or district, or cluster of villages, whether in the plains of Lombardy, or in the mountains of Switzerland, has acquired independence,—wherever any small fraction has severed itself from the aggregate,—the opposite sentiment has been found, and the natural tendency has been towards some modification of republican government;[10] out of which, indeed, as in Greece, a despot has often been engendered, but always through some unnatural mixture of force and fraud. The feudal system, evolved out of the disordered state of Europe between the eleventh and thirteenth centuries, always presumed a permanent suzerain, vested with large rights of a mixed personal and proprietary character over his vassals, though subject, also, to certain obligations towards them the immediate vassals of the king had subordinate vassals of their own, to whom they stood in the same relation: and in this hierarchy[11] of power, property, and territory blended together, the rights of the chief, whether king, duke, or baron, were always conceived as constituting a status apart, and neither conferred originally by the grant, nor revocable at the pleasure, of those over whom they were exercised. This view of the essential nature of political authority was a point in which the three great elements of modern European society,—the Teutonic, the Roman, and the Christian,—all concurred, though each in a different way and with different modifications; and the result was, a variety of attempts on the part of subjects to compromise with their chief, without any idea of substituting a delegated executive in his place. On particular points of these feudal monarchies there grew up, gradually, towns with a concentrated population, among whom was seen the remarkable combination of a republican feeling, demanding collective and responsible management in their own local affairs, with a necessity of union and subordination towards the great monarchical whole; and hence again arose a new force tending both to maintain the form, and to predetermine the march, of kingly government.[12] And it has been found in practice possible to attain this latter object,—to combine regal government with fixity of administration, equal law impartially executed, security to person and property, and freedom of discussion under representative forms,—in a degree which the wisest ancient Greek would have deemed hopeless.[13] Such an improvement in the practical working of this species of government, speaking always comparatively with the kings of ancient times in Syria, Egypt, Judæa, the Grecian cities, and Rome,—coupled with the increased force of all established routine, and the greater durability of all institutions and creeds which have once obtained footing throughout any wide extent of territory and people, has caused the monarchical sentiment to remain predominant in the European mind, though not without vigorous occasional dissent, throughout the increased knowledge and the enlarged political experience of the last two centuries.
It is important to show that the monarchical institutions and monarchical tendencies prevalent throughout mediæval and modern Europe have been both generated and perpetuated by causes peculiar to those societies, whilst in Hellenic societies such causes had no place,—in order that we may approach Hellenic phenomena in the proper spirit, and with an impartial estimate of the feeling universal among Greeks towards the idea of a king. The primitive sentiment entertained towards the heroic king died out, passing first into indifference, next,—after experience of the despots,—into determined antipathy.
To an historian like Mr. Mitford, full of English ideas respecting government, this anti-monarchical feeling appears of the nature of insanity, and the Grecian communities like madmen without a keeper: while the greatest of all benefactors is the hereditary king, who conquers them from without,—the second-best is the home-despot, who seizes the acropolis and puts his fellow-citizens under coercion. There cannot be a more certain way of misinterpreting and distorting Grecian phenomena than to read them in this spirit, which reverses the maxims both of prudence and morality current in the ancient world. The hatred of kings as it stood among the Greeks, whatever may be thought about a similar feeling now, was a prëeminent virtue, flowing directly from the noblest and wisest part of their nature: it was a consequence of their deep conviction of the necessity of universal legal restraint—it was a direct expression of that regulated sociality which required the control of individual passion from every one without exception, and most of all from him to whom power was confided. The conception which the Greeks formed of an unresponsible One, or of a king who could do no wrong, may be expressed in the pregnant words of Herodotus:[14] “He subverts the customs of the country: he violates women: he puts men to death without trial.” No other conception of the probable tendencies of kingship was justified either by a general knowledge of human nature, or by political experience as it stood from Solon downward: no other feeling than abhorrence could be entertained for the character so conceived: no other than a man of unprincipled ambition would ever seek to invest himself with it.
Our larger political experience has taught us to modify this opinion by showing that, under the conditions of monarchy in the best governments of modern Europe, the enormities described by Herodotus do not take place,—and that it is possible, by means of representative constitutions acting under a certain force of manners, customs, and historical recollection, to obviate many of the mischiefs likely to flow from proclaiming the duty of peremptory obedience to an hereditary and unresponsible king, who cannot be changed without extra-constitutional force. But such larger observation was not open to Aristotle, the wisest as well as the most cautious of ancient theorists; nor if it had been open, could he have applied with assurance its lessons to the governments of the single cities of Greece. The theory of a constitutional king, especially as it exists in England, would have appeared to him impracticable: to establish a king who will reign without governing,—in whose name all government is carried on, yet whose personal will is in practice of little or no effect,—exempt from all responsibility, without making use of the exemption,—receiving from every one unmeasured demonstrations of homage, which are never translated into act except within the bounds of a known law,—surrounded with all the paraphernalia of power, yet acting as a passive instrument in the hands of ministers marked out for his choice by indications which he is not at liberty to resist. This remarkable combination of the fiction of superhuman grandeur and license with the reality of an invisible strait-waistcoat, is what an Englishman has in his mind when he speaks of a constitutional king: the events of our history have brought it to pass in England, amidst an aristocracy the most powerful that the world has yet seen,—but we have still to learn whether it can be made to exist elsewhere, or whether the occurrence of a single king, at once able, aggressive, and resolute, may not suffice to break it up. To Aristotle, certainly, it could not have appeared otherwise than unintelligible and impracticable: not likely even in a single case,—but altogether inconceivable as a permanent system and with all the diversities of temper inherent in the successive members of an hereditary dynasty. When the Greeks thought of a man exempt from legal responsibility, they conceived him as really and truly such, in deed as well as in name, with a defenceless community exposed to his oppressions;[15] and their fear and hatred of him was measured by their reverence for a government of equal law and free speech, with the ascendency of which their whole hopes of security were associated,—in the democracy of Athens more perhaps than in any other portion of Greece. And this feeling, as it was one of the best in the Greek mind, so it was also one of the most widely spread,—a point of unanimity highly valuable amidst so many points of dissension. We cannot construe or criticize it by reference to the feelings of modern Europe, still less to the very peculiar feelings of England, respecting kingship: and it is the application, sometimes explicit and sometimes tacit, of this unsuitable standard, which renders Mr. Mitford’s appreciation of Greek politics so often incorrect and unfair.
When we try to explain the course of Grecian affairs, not from the circumstances of other societies, but from those of the Greeks themselves, we shall see good reason for the discontinuance as well as for the dislike of kingship. Had the Greek mind been as stationary and unimproving as that of the Orientals, the discontent with individual kings might have led to no other change than the deposition of a bad king in favor of one who promised to be better, without ever extending the views of the people to any higher conception than that of a personal government. But the Greek mind was of a progressive character, capable of conceiving and gradually of realizing amended social combinations. Moreover, it is in the nature of things that any government,—regal, oligarchical, or democratical,—which comprises only a single city, is far less stable than if it embraced a wider surface and a larger population: and when that semi-religious and mechanical submission, which made up for the personal deficiencies of the heroic king, became too feeble to serve as a working principle, the petty prince was in too close contact with his people, and too humbly furnished out in every way, to get up a prestige or delusion of any other kind: he had no means of overawing their imaginations by that combination of pomp, seclusion, and mystery, which Herodotus and Xenophon so well appreciate among the artifices of kingcraft.[16] As there was no new feeling upon which a perpetual chief could rest his power, so there was nothing in the circumstances of the community which rendered the maintenance of such a dignity necessary for visible and effective union:[17] in a single city, and a small circumjacent community, collective deliberation and general rules, with temporary and responsible magistrates, were practicable without difficulty.
To maintain an unresponsible king, and then to contrive accompaniments which shall extract from him the benefits of responsible government, is in reality a highly complicated system, though, as has been remarked, we have become familiar with it in modern Europe: the more simple and obvious change is, to substitute one or more temporary and responsible magistrates in place of the king himself. Such was the course which affairs took in Greece. The inferior chiefs, who had originally served as council to the king, found it possible to supersede him, and to alternate the functions of administration among themselves; retaining probably the occasional convocation of the general assembly, as it had existed before, and with as little practical efficacy. Such was in substance the character of that mutation which occurred generally throughout the Grecian states, with the exception of Sparta: kingship was abolished, and an oligarchy took its place,—a council deliberating collectively, deciding general matters by the majority of voices, and selecting some individuals of their own body as temporary and accountable administrators. It was always an oligarchy which arose on the defeasance of the heroic kingdom: the age of democratical movement was yet far distant, and the condition of the people—the general body of freemen—was not immediately altered, either for better or worse, by the revolution; the small number of privileged persons, among whom the kingly attributes were distributed and put in rotation, being those nearest in rank to the king himself, perhaps members of the same large gens with him, and pretending to a common divine or heroic descent. As far as we can make out, this change seems to have taken place in the natural course of events and without violence. Sometimes the kingly lineage died out and was not replaced; sometimes, on the death of a king, his son and successor was acknowledged[18] only as archon, or perhaps set aside altogether to make room for a prytanis, or president, out of the men of rank around.
At Athens, we are told that Kodrus was the last king, and that his descendants were recognized only as archons for life; after some years, the archons for life were replaced by archons for ten years, taken from the body of Eupatridæ, or nobles; subsequently, the duration of the archonship was farther shortened to one year. At Corinth, the ancient kings are said to have passed in like manner into the oligarchy of the Bacchiadæ, out of whom an annual prytanis was chosen. We are only able to make out the general fact of such a change, without knowing how it was brought about,—our first historical acquaintance with the Grecian cities beginning with these oligarchies.
Such oligarchical governments, varying in their details but analogous in general features, were common throughout the cities of Greece proper as well as of the colonies, throughout the seventh century B. C. Though they had little immediate tendency to benefit the mass of the freemen, yet when we compare them with the antecedent heroic government, they indicate an important advance,—the first adoption of a deliberate and preconceived system in the management of public affairs.[19] They exhibit the first evidences of new and important political ideas in the Greek mind,—the separation of legislative and executive powers; the former vested in a collective body, not merely deliberating but also finally deciding,—while the latter is confided to temporary individual magistrates, responsible to that body at the end of their period of office. We are first introduced to a community of citizens, according to the definition of Aristotle,—men qualified, and thinking themselves qualified, to take turns in command and obedience: the collective sovereign, called The City, is thus constituted. It is true that this first community of citizens comprised only a small proportion of the men personally free, but the ideas upon which it was founded began gradually to dawn upon the minds of all. Political power had lost its heaven-appointed character, and had become an attribute legally communicable as well as determined to certain definite ends; and the ground was thus laid for those thousand questions which agitated so many of the Grecian cities during the ensuing three centuries, partly respecting its apportionment, partly respecting its employment,—questions sometimes raised among the members of the privileged oligarchy itself, sometimes between that order as a whole and the non-privileged Many. The seeds of those popular movements, which called forth so much profound emotion, so much bitter antipathy, so much energy and talent, throughout the Grecian world, with different modifications in each particular city, may thus be traced back to that early revolution which erected the primitive oligarchy upon the ruins of the heroic kingdom.
How these first oligarchies were administered we have no direct information; but the narrow and anti-popular interests naturally belonging to a privileged few, together with the general violence of private manners and passions, leave us no ground for presuming favorably respecting either their prudence or their good feeling; and the facts which we learn respecting the condition of Attica prior to the Solonian legislation (to be recounted in the next chapter) raise inferences all of an unfavorable character.
The first shock which they received, and by which so many of them were subverted, arose from the usurpers called Despots, who employed the prevalent discontents both as pretexts and as aids for their own personal ambition, while their very frequent success seems to imply that such discontents were wide-spread as well as serious. These despots arose out of the bosom of the oligarchies, but not all in the same manner.[20] Sometimes the executive magistrate, upon whom the oligarchy themselves had devolved important administrative powers for a certain temporary period, became unfaithful to his choosers, and acquired sufficient ascendency to retain his dignity permanently in spite of them,—perhaps even to transmit it to his son. In other places, and seemingly more often, there arose that noted character called the Demagogue, of whom historians both ancient and modern commonly draw so repulsive a picture:[21] a man of energy and ambition, sometimes even a member of the oligarchy itself, who stood forward as champion of the grievances and sufferings of the non-privileged Many, acquired their favor, and employed their strength so effectively as to put down the oligarchy by force, and constitute himself despot. A third form of despot, some presumptuous wealthy man, like Kylôn at Athens, without even the pretence of popularity, was occasionally emboldened by the success of similar adventures in other places to hire a troop of retainers and seize the acropolis; and there were examples, though rare, of a fourth variety,—the lineal descendant of the ancient kings,—who, instead of suffering himself to be restricted or placed under control by the oligarchy, found means to subjugate them, and to extort by force an ascendency as great as that which his forefathers had enjoyed by consent. To these must be added, in several Grecian states, the Æsymnête, or Dictator, a citizen formally invested with supreme and unresponsible power, placed in command of the military force, and armed with a standing body-guard, but only for a time named, and in order to deal with some urgent peril or ruinous internal dissension.[22] The person thus exalted, always enjoying a large measure of confidence, and generally a man of ability, was sometimes so successful, or made himself so essential to the community, that the term of his office was prolonged, and he became practically despot for life; or, even if the community were not disposed to concede to him this permanent ascendency, he was often strong enough to keep it against their will.
Such were the different modes in which the numerous Greek despots of the seventh and sixth centuries B. C. acquired their power. Though we know thus much in general terms from the brief statements of Aristotle, yet, unhappily, we have no contemporary picture of any one of these communities, so as to give us the means of appreciating the change in detail. Of those persons who, possessing inherited kingly dignity, stretched their paternal power so far as to become despots, Aristotle gives us Pheidôn of Argos as an example, whose reign has been already narrated in the preceding volume: of those who made themselves despots by means of official power previously held under an oligarchy, he names Phalaris, at Agrigentum, and the despots at Miletus and other cities of the Ionic Greeks: of those who raised themselves by becoming demagogues, he specifies Panætius in the Sicilian town of Leontini, Kypselus at Corinth, and Peisistratus at Athens;[23] of Æsymnêtes, or chosen despots, Pittakus of Mitylênê is the prominent instance. The military and aggressive demagogue, subverting an oligarchy which had degraded and ill-used him, governing as a cruel despot for several years, and at last dethroned and slain, is farther depicted by Dionysius of Halikarnassus, in the history of Aristodêmus of the Italian Cumæ.[24]
From the general statement of Thucydides as well as of Aristotle, we learn that the seventh and sixth centuries B. C. were centuries of progress for the Greek cities generally, in wealth, in power, and in population; and the numerous colonies founded during this period, of which I shall speak in a future chapter, will furnish farther illustration of such progressive tendencies. Now the changes just mentioned in the Grecian governments, imperfectly as we know them, are on the whole decided evidences of advancing citizenship. For the heroic government, with which Grecian communities begin, is the rudest and most infantine of all governments; destitute even of the pretence of system or security, incapable of being in any way foreknown, and depending only upon the accidental variations in the character of the reigning individual, who, in most cases, far from serving as a protection to the poor against the rich and great, was likely to indulge his passions in the same unrestrained way as the latter, and with still greater impunity.
The despots, who in so many towns succeeded and supplanted this oligarchical government, though they governed on principles usually narrow and selfish, and often oppressively cruel, “taking no thought—to use the emphatic words of Thucydides—except for their own body and their own family,”—yet since they were not strong enough to crush the Greek mind, imprinted upon it a painful but improving political lesson, and contributed much to enlarge the range of experience as well as to determine the subsequent cast of feeling.[25] They partly broke down the wall of distinction between the people—properly so called, the general mass of freemen—and the oligarchy; indeed, the demagogue-despots are interesting, as the first evidence of the growing importance of the people in political affairs. The demagogue stood forward as representing the feelings and interests of the people against the governing few, probably availing himself of some special cases of ill-usage, and taking pains to be conciliatory and generous in his own personal behavior; and when the people, by their armed aid, had enabled him to overthrow the existing rulers, they had thus the satisfaction of seeing their own chief in possession of the supreme power, but they acquired no political rights and no increased securities for themselves. What measure of positive advantage they may have reaped, beyond that of seeing their previous oppressors humiliated, we know too little to determine;[26] but even the worst of despots was more formidable to the rich than to the poor, and the latter may perhaps have gained by the change, in comparative importance, notwithstanding their share in the rigors and exactions of a government which had no other permanent foundation than naked fear.
A remark made by Aristotle deserves especial notice here, as illustrating the political advance and education of the Grecian communities. He draws a marked distinction between the early demagogue of the seventh and sixth centuries, and the later demagogue, such as he himself and the generations immediately preceding had witnessed: the former was a military chief, daring and full of resource, who took arms at the head of a body of popular insurgents, put down the government by force, and made himself the master both of those whom he deposed and of those by whose aid he deposed them; while the latter was a speaker, possessed of all the talents necessary for moving an audience, but neither inclined to, nor qualified for, armed attack,—accomplishing all his purposes by pacific and constitutional methods. This valuable change,—substituting discussion and the vote of an assembly in place of an appeal to arms, and procuring for the pronounced decision of the assembly such an influence over men’s minds as to render it final and respected even by dissentients,—arose from the continued practical working of democratical institutions. I shall have occasion, at a later period of this history, to estimate the value of that unmeasured obloquy which has been heaped on the Athenian demagogues of the Peloponnesian war,—Kleôn and Hyperbolus; but, assuming the whole to be well-founded, it will not be the less true that these men were a material improvement on the earlier demagogues, such as Kypselus and Peisistratus, who employed the armed agency of the people for the purpose of subverting the established government and acquiring despotic authority for themselves. The demagogue was essentially a leader of opposition, who gained his influence by denouncing the men in real ascendency, and in actual executive functions. Now, under the early oligarchies, his opposition could be shown only by armed insurrection, and it conducted him either to personal sovereignty or to destruction; but the growth of democratical institutions insured both to him and to his political opponents full liberty of speech, and a paramount assembly to determine between them; whilst it both limited the range of his ambition, and set aside the appeal to armed force. The railing demagogue of Athens, at the time of the Peloponnesian war (even if we accept literally the representations of his worst enemies), was thus a far less mischievous and dangerous person than the fighting demagogue of the earlier centuries; and the “growth of habits of public speaking,”[27] to use Aristotle’s expression, was the cause of the difference: the opposition of the tongue was a beneficial substitute for the opposition of the sword.
The rise of these despots on the ruins of the previous oligarchies was, in appearance, a return to the principles of the heroic age,—the restoration of a government of personal will in place of that systematic arrangement known as the City. But the Greek mind had so far outgrown those early principles, that no new government founded thereupon could meet with willing acquiescence, except under some temporary excitement. At first, doubtless, the popularity of the usurper,—combined with the fervor of his partizans and the expulsion or intimidation of opponents, and farther enhanced by the punishment of rich oppressors,—was sufficient to procure for him obedience; and prudence on his part might prolong this undisputed rule for a considerable period, perhaps even throughout his whole life. But Aristotle intimates that these governments, even when they began well, had a constant tendency to become worse and worse: discontent manifested itself, and was aggravated rather than repressed by the violence employed against it, until at length the despot became a prey to mistrustful and malevolent anxiety, losing any measure of equity or benevolent sympathy which might once have animated him. If he was fortunate enough to bequeathe his authority to his son, the latter, educated in a corrupt atmosphere and surrounded by parasites, contracted dispositions yet more noxious and unsocial: his youthful appetites were more ungovernable, while he was deficient in the prudence and vigor which had been indispensable to the self-accomplished rise of his father.[28] For such a position, mercenary guards and a fortified acropolis were the only stay,—guards fed at the expense of the citizens, and thus requiring constant exactions on behalf of that which was nothing better than a hostile garrison. It was essential to the security of the despot that he should keep down the spirit of the free people whom he governed; that he should isolate them from each other, and prevent those meetings and mutual communications which Grecian cities habitually presented in the school, the leschê, or the palæstra; that he should strike off the overtopping ears of corn in the field (to use the Greek locution) or crush the exalted and enterprising minds.[29] Nay, he had even to a certain extent an interest in degrading and impoverishing them, or at least in debarring them from the acquisition either of wealth or leisure: and the extensive constructions undertaken by Polykratês at Samos, as well as the rich donations of Periander to the temple at Olympia, are considered by Aristotle to have been extorted by these despots with the express view of engrossing the time and exhausting the means of their subjects.
It is not to be imagined that all were alike cruel or unprincipled; but the perpetual supremacy of one man and one family had become so offensive to the jealousy of those who felt themselves to be his equals, and to the general feeling of the people, that repression and severity were inevitable, whether originally intended or not. And even if an usurper, having once entered upon this career of violence, grew sick and averse to its continuance, abdication only left him in imminent peril, exposed to the vengeance[30] of those whom he had injured,—unless, indeed, he could clothe himself with the mantle of religion, and stipulate with the people to become priest of some temple and deity; in which case his new function protected him, just as the tonsure and the monastery sheltered a dethroned prince in the Middle Ages.[31] Several of the despots were patrons of music and poetry, and courted the good-will of contemporary intellectual men by invitation as well as by reward; and there were some cases, such as that of Peisistratus and his sons at Athens, in which an attempt was made (analogous to that of Augustus at Rome) to reconcile the reality of personal omnipotence with a certain respect for preëxisting forms.[32] In such instances the administration, though not unstained by guilt, never otherwise than unpopular, and carried on by means of foreign mercenaries, was doubtless practically milder. But cases of this character were rare, and the maxims usual with Grecian despots were personified in Periander, the Kypselid of Corinth,—a harsh and brutal person, but not destitute either of vigor or intelligence.
The position of a Grecian despot, as depicted by Plato, by Xenophon and by Aristotle,[33] and farther sustained by the indications in Herodotus, Thucydides, and Isokrates, though always coveted by ambitious men, reveals clearly enough “those wounds and lacerations of mind,” whereby the internal Erinnys avenged the community upon the usurper who trampled them down. Far from considering success in usurpation as a justification of the attempt (according to the theories now prevalent respecting Cromwell and Bonaparte, who are often blamed because they kept out a legitimate king, but never because they seized an unauthorized power over the people), these philosophers regard the despot as among the greatest of criminals: the man who assassinated him was an object of public honor and reward, and a virtuous Greek would seldom have scrupled to carry his sword concealed in myrtle branches, like Harmodius and Aristogeiton, for the execution of the deed.[34] A station which overtopped the restraints and obligations involved in citizenship, was understood at the same time to forfeit all title to the common sympathy and protection,[35] so that it was unsafe for the despot to visit in person those great Pan-Hellenic games in which his own chariot might perhaps have gained the prize, and in which the theors, or sacred envoys, whom he sent as representatives of his Hellenic city, appeared with ostentatious pomp. A government carried on under these unpropitious circumstances could never be otherwise than short-lived. Though the individual daring enough to seize it, often found means to preserve it for the term of his own life, yet the sight of a despot living to old age was rare, and the transmission of his power to his son still more so.[36]
Amidst the numerous points of contention in Grecian political morality, this rooted antipathy to a permanent hereditary ruler stood apart as a sentiment almost unanimous, in which the thirst for preëminence felt by the wealthy few, and the love of equal freedom in the bosoms of the many, alike concurred. It first began among the oligarchies of the seventh and sixth centuries B. C., a complete reversal of that pronounced monarchical sentiment which we now read in the Iliad; and it was transmitted by them to the democracies, which did not arise until a later period. The conflict between oligarchy and despotism preceded that between oligarchy and democracy, the Lacedæmonians standing forward actively on both occasions to uphold the oligarchical principle: a mingled sentiment of fear and repugnance led them to put down despotism in several cities of Greece during the sixth century B. C., just as, during their contest with Athens in the following century, they assisted the oligarchical party, where-ever they could, to overthrow democracy. And it was thus that the demagogue-despot of these earlier times, bringing out the name of the people as a pretext, and the arms of the people as a means of accomplishment, for his own ambitious designs, served as a preface to the reality of democracy, which manifested itself at Athens a short time before the Persian war, as a development of the seed planted by Solon.
As far as our imperfect information enables us to trace, the early oligarchies of the Grecian states, against which the first usurping despots contended, contained in themselves far more repulsive elements of inequality, and more mischievous barriers between the component parts of the population, than the oligarchies of later days. What was true of Hellas as an aggregate, was true, though in a less degree, of each separate community which went to compose that aggregate: each included a variety of clans, orders, religious brotherhoods, and local or professional sections, which were very imperfectly cemented together: and the oligarchy was not, like the government so denominated in subsequent times, the government of a rich few over the less rich and the poor, but that of a peculiar order, sometimes a patrician order, over all the remaining society. In such a case, the subject Many might number opulent and substantial proprietors as well as the governing Few; but these subject Many would themselves be broken into different heterogeneous fractions, not heartily sympathizing with each other, perhaps not intermarrying together, nor partaking of the same religious rites. The country-population, or villagers, who tilled the land, seem in these early times to have been held to a painful dependence on the proprietors who lived in the fortified town, and to have been distinguished by a dress and habits of their own, which often drew upon them an unfriendly nickname. These town proprietors seem to have often composed the governing class in early Grecian states, while their subjects consisted,—1. Of the dependent cultivators living in the district around, by whom their lands were tilled. 2. Of a certain number of small self-working proprietors (αὐτουργοὶ), whose possessions were too scanty to maintain more than themselves by the labor of their own hands on their own plot of ground—residing either in the country or the town, as the case might be. 3. Of those who lived in the town, having no land but exercising handicraft, arts, or commerce.
The governing proprietors went by the name of the Gamori, or Geomori, according as the Doric or Ionic dialect might be used in describing them, since they were found in states belonging to one race as well as to the other. They appear to have constituted a close order, transmitting their privileges to their children, but admitting no new members to a participation,—for the principle called by Greek thinkers a timocracy, the appointment of political rights and privileges according to comparative property, appears to have been little, if at all, applied in the earlier times, and we know no example of it earlier than Solon. So that, by the natural multiplication of families and mutation of property, there would come to be many individual gamori possessing no land at all, and perhaps worse off than those small freeholders who did not belong to the order; while some of these latter freeholders, and some of the artisans and traders in the towns, might at the same time be rising in wealth and importance. Under a political classification such as this, of which the repulsive inequality was aggravated by a rude state of manners, and which had no flexibility to meet the changes in relative position amongst individual inhabitants, discontent and outbreaks were unavoidable, and the earliest despot, usually a wealthy man of the disfranchised class, became champion and leader of the malcontents.[37] However oppressive his rule might be, at least it was an oppression which bore with indiscriminate severity upon all the fractions of the population; and when the hour of reaction against him or against his successor arrived, so that the common enemy was expelled by the united efforts of all, it was hardly possible to revive the preëxisting system of exclusion and inequality without some considerable abatements.
As a general rule, every Greek city-community included in its population, independent of bought slaves, the three elements above noticed,—considerable land proprietors with rustic dependents, small self-working proprietors, and town-artisans,—the three elements being found everywhere in different proportions. But the progress of events in Greece, from the seventh century B. C. downwards, tended continually to elevate the comparative importance of the two latter, while in those early days the ascendency of the former was at its maximum, and altered only to decline. The military force of most of the cities was at first in the hands of the great proprietors, and formed by them; it consisted of cavalry, themselves and their retainers, with horses fed upon their lands. Such was the primitive oligarchical militia, as it was constituted in the seventh and sixth centuries B. C.,[38] at Chalkis and Eretria in Eubœa, as well as at Kolophôn and other cities in Ionia, and as it continued in Thessaly down to the fourth century B. C.; but the gradual rise of the small proprietors and town-artisans was marked by the substitution of heavy-armed infantry in place of cavalry; and a farther change not less important took place when the resistance to Persia led to the great multiplication of Grecian ships of war, manned by a host of seamen who dwelt congregated in the maritime towns. All the changes which we are able to trace in the Grecian communities tended to break up the close and exclusive oligarchies with which our first historical knowledge commences, and to conduct them either to oligarchies rather more open, embracing all men of a certain amount of property, or else to democracies. But the transition in both cases was usually attained through the interlude of the despot.
In enumerating the distinct and unharmonious elements of which the population of these early Grecian communities was made up, we must not forget one farther element which was to be found in the Dorian states generally,—men of Dorian, as contrasted with men of non-Dorian race. The Dorians were in all cases emigrants and conquerors, establishing themselves along with and at the expense of the prior inhabitants. Upon what terms the cohabitation was established, and in what proportions invaders and invaded came together, we are without information; and important as this circumstance is in the history of these Dorian communities, we know it only as a general fact, and are unable to follow its results in detail. But we see enough to satisfy ourselves that in those revolutions which overthrew the oligarchies both at Corinth and Sikyon,—perhaps also at Megara,—the Dorian and non-Dorian elements of the community came into conflict more or less direct.
The despots of Sikyon are the earliest of whom we have any distinct mention: their dynasty lasted one hundred years, a longer period than any other Grecian despots known to Aristotle; they are said,[39] moreover, to have governed with mildness and with much practical respect to the preëxisting laws. Orthagoras,[40] the beginner of the dynasty, raised himself to the position of despot about 676 B. C., subverting the preëxisting Dorian oligarchy; but the cause and circumstances of this revolution are not preserved. He is said to have been originally a cook. In his line of successors we find mention of Andreas, Myrôn, Aristônymus, and Kleisthenês; but we know nothing of any of them until the last, except that Myrôn gained a chariot victory at Olympia in the 33d Olympiad (648 B. C.), and built, at the same holy place, a thesaurus containing two ornamented alcoves of copper for the reception of commemorative offerings from himself and his family.[41] Respecting Kleisthenês (whose age must be placed between 600-560 B. C., but can hardly be determined accurately,) some facts are reported to us highly curious, but of a nature not altogether easy to follow or verify.
We learn from the narrative of Herodotus that the tribe to which Kleisthenês[42] himself (and of course his progenitors Orthagoras and the other Orthagoridæ also) belonged, was distinct from the three Dorian tribes, who have been already named in my previous chapter respecting the Lykurgean constitution at Sparta,—the Hylleis, Pamphyli, and Dymanes. We also learn that these tribes were common to the Sikyonians and the Argeians; and Kleisthenês, being in a state of bitter hostility with Argos, tried in several ways to abolish the points of community between the two. Sikyôn, originally Dorized by settlers from Argos, was included in the “lot of Temenus,” or among the towns of the Argeian confederacy: the coherence of this confederacy had become weaker and weaker, partly without doubt through the influence of the predecessors of Kleisthenês; but the Argeians may perhaps have tried to revive it, thus placing themselves in a state of war with the latter, and inducing him to disconnect, palpably and violently, Sikyôn from Argos. There were two anchors by which the connection held,—first, legendary and religious sympathy; next, the civil rites and denominations current among the Sikyonian Dorians: both of them were torn up by Kleisthenês. He changed the names both of the three Dorian tribes, and of that non-Dorian tribe to which he himself belonged: the last he called by the complimentary title of archelai (commanders of the people); the first three he styled by the insulting names of hyatæ, oneatæ, and chœreatæ, from the three Greek words signifying a boar, an ass, and a little pig. The extreme bitterness of this insult can only be appreciated when we fancy to ourselves the reverence with which the tribes in a Grecian city regarded the hero from whom their name was borrowed. That these new denominations, given by Kleisthenês, involved an intentional degradation of the Dorian tribes as well as an assumption of superiority for his own, is affirmed by Herodotus, and seems well-deserving of credit.
But the violence of which Kleisthenês was capable in his anti-Argeian antipathy, is manifested still more plainly in his proceedings with respect to the hero Adrastus and to the legendary sentiment of the people. Something has already been said, in my former volume,[43] about this remarkable incident, which must, however, be here again briefly noticed. The hero Adrastus, whose chapel Herodotus himself saw in the Sikyonian agora, was common both to Argos and to Sikyôn, and was the object of special reverence at both: he figures in the legend as king of Argos, and as the grandson and heir of Polybus, king of Sikyôn. He was the unhappy leader of the two sieges of Thebes, so famous in the ancient epic,—and the Sikyonians listened with delight both to the exploits of the Argeians against Thebes, as celebrated in the recitations of the epical rhapsodes, and to the mournful tale of Adrastus and his family misfortunes, as sung in the tragic chorus. Kleisthenês not only forbade the rhapsodes to come to Sikyôn, but farther resolved to expel Adrastus himself from the country,—such is the literal Greek expression,[44] the hero himself being believed to be actually present and domiciled among the people. He first applied to the Delphian oracle for permission to carry this banishment into direct effect, but the Pythian priestess returned an answer of indignant refusal,—“Adrastus is king of the Sikyonians, but thou art a ruffian.” Thus baffled, he put in practice a stratagem calculated to induce Adrastus to depart of his own accord.[45] He sent to Thebes to beg that he might be allowed to introduce into Sikyôn the hero Melanippus, and the permission was granted. Now Melanippus was celebrated in the legend as the puissant champion of Thebes against Adrastus and the Argeian besiegers, and as having slain both Mêkisteus the brother, and Tydeus the son-in-law, of Adrastus; and he was therefore preëminently odious to the latter. Kleisthenês brought this anti-national hero into Sikyôn, assigning to him consecrated ground in the prytaneium, or government-house, and even in that part which was most strongly fortified[46] (for it seems that Adrastus was conceived as likely to assail and do battle with the intruder);—moreover, he took away both the tragic choruses and the sacrifice from Adrastus, assigning the former to the god Dionysus, and the latter to Melanippus.
The religious manifestations of Sikyôn being thus transferred from Adrastus to his mortal foe, and from the cause of the Argeians in the siege of Thebes to that of the Thebans, Adrastus was presumed to have voluntarily retired from the place, and the purpose which Kleisthenês contemplated, of breaking the community of feeling between Sikyôn and Argos, was in part accomplished.
A ruler who could do such violence to the religious and legendary sentiment of his community may well be supposed capable of inflicting that deliberate insult upon the Dorian tribes which is implied in their new appellations. As we are uninformed, however, of the state of things which preceded, we know not how far it might have been a retaliation for previous insult in the opposite direction. It is plain that the Dorians of Sikyôn maintained themselves and their ancient tribes quite apart from the remaining community, though what the other constituent portions of the population were, or in what relation they stood to these Dorians, we are not enabled to make out. We hear, indeed, of a dependent rural population in the territory of Sikyôn, as well as in that of Argos and Epidaurus, analogous to the Helots in Laconia. In Sikyôn, this class was termed the Korynêphori (club men), or the Katônakophori, from the thick woollen mantle which they wore, with a sheepskin sewn on to the skirt: in Argos, they were called Gymnêsii, from their not possessing the military panoply or the use of regular arms: in Epidaurus, Konipodes, or the dusty-footed.[47] We may conclude that a similar class existed in Corinth, in Megara, and in each of the Dorian towns of the Argolic Aktê. But besides the Dorian tribes and these rustics, there must probably have existed non-Dorian proprietors and town residents, and upon them we may suppose that the power of the Orthagoridæ and of Kleisthenês was founded, perhaps more friendly and indulgent to the rustic serfs than that of the Dorians had been previously. The moderation, which Aristotle ascribes to the Orthagoridæ generally, is belied by the proceedings of Kleisthenês: but we may probably believe that his predecessors, content with maintaining the real predominance of the non-Dorian over the Dorian population, meddled very little with the separate position and civil habits of the latter,—while Kleisthenês, provoked or alarmed by some attempt on their part to strengthen alliance with the Argeians, resorted both to repressive measures and to that offensive nomenclature which has been above cited. The preservation of the power of Kleisthenês was due to his military energy (according to Aristotle) even more than to his moderation and popular conduct; it was aided, probably, by his magnificent displays at the public games, for he was victor in the chariot-race at the Pythian games 582 B. C., as well as at the Olympic games besides. Moreover, he was in fact the last of the race, nor did he transmit his power to any successor.[48]
The reigns of the early Orthagoridæ, then, may be considered as marking a predominance, newly acquired but quietly exercised, of the non-Dorians over the Dorians in Sikyôn: the reign of Kleisthenês, as displaying a strong explosion of antipathy from the former towards the latter; and though this antipathy, and the application of those opprobrious tribe-names in which it was conveyed, stand ascribed to Kleisthenês personally, we may see that the non-Dorians in Sikyôn shared it generally, because these same tribe-names continued to be applied not only during the reign of that despot, but also for sixty years longer, after his death. Of course, it is needless to remark that such denominations could never have been acknowledged or employed among the Dorians themselves. After the lapse of sixty years from the death of Kleisthenês, the Sikyonians came to an amicable adjustment of the feud, and placed the tribe-names on a footing satisfactory to all parties; the old Dorian denominations (Hylleis, Pamphyli, and Dymanes) were reëstablished, and the name of the fourth tribe, or non-Dorians, was changed from Archelai to Ægialeis,—Ægialeus son of Adrastus being constituted their eponymus.[49] This choice of the son of Adrastus for an eponymus, seems to show that the worship of Adrastus himself was then revived in Sikyôn, since it existed in the time of Herodotus.
Of the war which Kleisthenês helped to conduct against Kirrha, for the protection of the Delphian temple, I shall speak in another place. His death and the cessation of his dynasty seem to have occurred about 650 B. C., as far as the chronology can be made out.[50] That he was put down by the Spartans, as K. F. Hermann, O. Müller, and Dr. Thirlwall suppose,[51] can be hardly admitted consistently with the narrative of Herodotus, who mentions the continuance of the insulting names imposed by him upon the Dorian tribes for many years after his death. Now, had the Spartans forcibly interfered for the suppression of his dynasty, we may reasonably presume that, even if they did not restore the decided preponderance of the Dorians in Sikyôn, they would at least have rescued the Dorian tribes from this obvious ignominy. But it seems doubtful whether Kleisthenês had any son: and the extraordinary importance attached to the marriage of his daughter, Agaristê, whom he bestowed upon the Athenian Megaklês of the great family of Alkmæônidæ, seems rather to evince that she was an heiress,—not to his power, but to his wealth. There can be no doubt as to the fact of that marriage, from which was born the Athenian leader Kleisthenês, afterwards the author of the great democratical revolution at Athens after the expulsion of the Peisistratidæ; but the lively and amusing details with which Herodotus has surrounded it, bear much more the stamp of romance than of reality. Dressed up, apparently, by some ingenious Athenian, as a compliment to the Alkmæonid lineage of his city, which comprised both Kleisthenês and Periklês, the narrative commemorates a marriage-rivalry between that lineage and another noble Athenian house, and at the same time gives a mythical explanation of a phrase seemingly proverbial at Athens—“Hippokleides don’t care.”[52]
Plutarch numbers Æschinês of Sikyôn[53] among the despots put down by Sparta: at what period this took place, or how it is to be connected with the history of Kleisthenês as given in Herodotus, we are unable to say.
Contemporaneous with the Orthagoridæ at Sikyôn,—but beginning a little later and closing somewhat earlier,—we find the despots Kypselus and Periander at Corinth. The former appears as the subverter of the oligarchy called the Bacchiadæ. Of the manner in which he accomplished his object we find no information: and this historical blank is inadequately filled up by various religious prognostics and oracles, foreshadowing the rise, the harsh rule, and the dethronement, after two generations, of these powerful despots.
According to an idea deeply seated in the Greek mind, the destruction of a great prince or of a great power is usually signified to him by the gods beforehand, though either through hardness of heart or inadvertence, no heed is taken of the warning. In reference to Kypselus and the Bacchiadæ, we are informed that Melas, the ancestor of the former, was one of the original settlers at Corinth who accompanied the first Dorian chief Alêtês, and that Alêtês was in vain warned by an oracle not to admit him;[54] again, too, immediately before Kypselus was born, the Bacchiadæ received notice that his mother was about to give birth to one who would prove their ruin: the dangerous infant escaped destruction only by a hair’s breadth, being preserved from the intent of his destroyers by lucky concealment in a chest. Labba, the mother of Kypselus, was daughter of Amphion, who belonged to the gens, or sept, of the Bacchiadæ; but she was lame, and none of the gens would consent to marry her with that deformity. Eetion, son of Echekratês, who became her husband, belonged to a different, yet hardly less distinguished heroic genealogy: he was of the Lapithæ, descended from Kæneus, and dwelling in the Corinthian deme called Petra. We see thus that Kypselus was not only a high-born man in the city, but a Bacchiad by half-birth; both of these circumstances were likely to make exclusion from the government intolerable to him. He rendered himself highly popular with the people, and by their aid overthrew and expelled the Bacchiadæ, continuing as despot at Corinth for thirty years until his death (B. C. 655-625). According to Aristotle, he maintained throughout life the same conciliatory behavior by which his power had first been acquired; and his popularity was so effectually sustained that he had never any occasion for a body-guard. But the Corinthian oligarchy of the century of Herodotus,—whose tale that historian has embodied in the oration of the Corinthian envoy Sosiklês[55] to the Spartans,—gave a very different description, and depicted Kypselus as a cruel ruler, who banished, robbed, and murdered by wholesale.
His son and successor Periander, though energetic as a warrior, distinguished as an encourager of poetry and music, and even numbered by some among the seven wise men of Greece,—is, nevertheless, uniformly represented as oppressive and inhuman in his treatment of subjects. The revolting stories which are told respecting his private life, and his relations with his mother and his wife, may for the most part be regarded as calumnies suggested by odious associations with his memory; but there seems good reason for imputing to him tyranny of the worst character, and the sanguinary maxims of precaution so often acted upon by Grecian despots were traced back in ordinary belief to Periander,[56] and his contemporary Thrasybulus, despot of Milêtus. He maintained a powerful body-guard, shed much blood, and was exorbitant in his exactions, a part of which was employed in votive offerings at Olympia; and this munificence to the gods was considered by Aristotle and others as part of a deliberate system, with the view of keeping his subjects both hard at work and poor. On one occasion, we are told that he invited the women of Corinth to assemble for the celebration of a religious festival, and then stripped them of their rich attire and ornaments. By some later writers, he is painted as the stern foe of everything like luxury and dissolute habits,—enforcing industry, compelling every man to render account of his means of livelihood, and causing the procuresses of Corinth to be thrown into the sea.[57] Though the general features of his character, his cruel tyranny no less than his vigor and ability, may be sufficiently relied on, yet the particular incidents connected with his name are all extremely dubious: the most credible of all seems to be the tale of his inexpiable quarrel with his son, and his brutal treatment of many noble Korkyræan youths, as related in Herodotus. Periander is said to have put to death his wife, Melissa, daughter of Proklês, despot of Epidaurus; and his son Lykophrôn, informed of this deed, contracted an incurable antipathy against him. After vainly trying, both by rigor and by conciliation, to conquer this feeling on the part of his son, Periander sent him to reside at Korkyra, then dependent upon his rule; but when he found himself growing old and disabled, he recalled him to Corinth, in order to insure the continuance of the dynasty. Lykophrôn still obstinately declined all personal communication with his father, upon which the latter desired him to come to Corinth, and engaged himself to go over to Korkyra. So terrified were the Korkyræans at the idea of a visit from this formidable old man, that they put Lykophrôn to death,—a deed which Periander avenged by seizing three hundred youths of their noblest families, and sending them over to the Lydian king, Alyattês at Sardis, in order that they might be castrated and made to serve as eunuchs. The Corinthian vessels in which the youths were dispatched fortunately touched at Samos in the way; where the Samians and Knidians, shocked at a proceeding which outraged all Hellenic sentiment, contrived to rescue the youths from the miserable fate intended for them, and, after the death of Periander, sent them back to their native island.[58]
While we turn with displeasure from the political life of this man, we are at the same time made acquainted with the great extent of his power,—greater than that which was ever possessed by Corinth after the extinction of his dynasty. Korkyra, Ambrakia, Leukas, and Anaktorium, all Corinthian colonies, but in the next century independent states, appear in his time dependencies of Corinth. Ambrakia is said to have been under the rule of another despot named Periander, probably also a Kypselid by birth. It seems, indeed, that the towns of Anaktorium, Leukas, and Apollonia in the Ionian gulf, were either founded by the Kypselids, or received reinforcements of Corinthian colonists, during their dynasty, though Korkyra was established considerably earlier.[59]
The reign of Periander lasted for forty years (B. C. 625-585): Psammetichus son of Gordius, who succeeded him, reigned three years, and the Kypselid dynasty is then said to have closed, after having continued for seventy-three years.[60] In respect of power, magnificent display, and wide-spread connections both in Asia and in Italy, they evidently stood high among the Greeks of their time. Their offerings consecrated at Olympia excited great admiration, especially the gilt colossal statue of Zeus, and the large chest of cedar-wood dedicated in the temple of Hêrê, overlaid with various figures in gold and ivory: the figures were borrowed from mythical and legendary story, and the chest was a commemoration both of the name of Kypselus and of the tale of his marvellous preservation in infancy.[61] If Plutarch is correct, this powerful dynasty is to be numbered among the despots put down by Sparta;[62] yet such intervention of the Spartans, granting it to have been matter of fact, can hardly have been known to Herodotus.
Coincident in point of time with the commencement of Periander’s reign at Corinth, we find Theagenês despot at Megara, who is also said to have acquired his power by demagogic arts, as well as by violent aggressions against the rich proprietors, whose cattle he destroyed in their pastures by the side of the river. We are not told by what previous conduct on the part of the rich this hatred of the people had been earned, but Theagenês carried the popular feeling completely along with him, obtained by public vote a body of guards ostensibly for his personal safety, and employed them to overthrow the oligarchy.[63] But he did not maintain his power, even for his own life: a second revolution dethroned and expelled him; on which occasion, after a short interval of temperate government, the people are said to have renewed in a still more marked way their antipathies against the rich; banishing some of them with confiscation of property, intruding into the houses of others with demands for forced hospitality, and even passing a formal palintokia, or decree, to require from the rich who had lent money on interest, the refunding of all past interest paid to them by their debtors.[64] To appreciate correctly such a demand, we must recollect that the practice of taking interest for money lent was regarded by a large proportion of early ancient society with feelings of unqualified reprobation; and it will be seen, when we come to the legislation of Solon, how much such violent reactionary feeling against the creditor was provoked by the antecedent working of the harsh law determining his rights.
We hear in general terms of more than one revolution in the government of Megara,—a disorderly democracy, subverted by returning oligarchical exiles, and these again unable long to maintain themselves;[65] but we are alike uninformed as to dates and details. And in respect to one of these struggles, we are admitted to the outpourings of a contemporary and a sufferer,—the Megarian poet Theognis. Unfortunately, his elegiac verses, as we possess them, are in a state so broken, incoherent, and interpolated, that we make out no distinct conception of the events which call them forth,—still less, can we discover in the verses of Theognis that strength and peculiarity of pure Dorian feeling, which, since the publication of O. Müller’s History of the Dorians, it has been the fashion to look for so extensively. But we see that the poet was connected with an oligarchy, of birth and not of wealth, which had recently been subverted by the breaking in of the rustic population previously subject and degraded,—that these subjects were contented to submit to a single-headed despot, in order to escape from their former rulers,—and that Theognis had himself been betrayed by his own friends and companions, stripped of his property, and exiled, through the wrong doing “of enemies whose blood he hopes one day to be permitted to drink.”[66] The condition of the subject cultivators previous to this revolution he depicts in sad colors;—they “dwelt without the city, clad in goatskins, and ignorant of judicial sanctions or laws:”[67] after it, they had become citizens, and their importance had been immensely enhanced. And thus, according to his impression, the vile breed has trodden down the noble,—the bad have become masters, and the good are no longer of any account. The bitterness and humiliation which attend upon poverty, and the undue ascendency which wealth confers even upon the most worthless of mankind,[68] are among the prominent subjects of his complaint, and his keen personal feeling on this point would be alone sufficient to show that the recent revolution had no way overthrown the influence of property; in contradiction to the opinion of Welcker, who infers without ground, from a passage of uncertain meaning, that the land of the state had been formally redivided.[69] The Megarian revolution, so far as we apprehend it from Theognis, appears to have improved materially the condition of the cultivators around the town, and to have strengthened a certain class whom he considers “the bad rich,”—while it extinguished the privileges of that governing order, to which he himself belonged, denominated in his language “the good and the virtuous,” with ruinous effect upon his own individual fortunes. How far this governing order was exclusively Dorian, we have no means of determining. The political change by which Theognis suffered, and the new despot whom he indicates as either actually installed or nearly impending, must have come considerably after the despotism of Theagenês; for the life of the poet seems to fall between 570-490 B. C., while Theagenês must have ruled about 630-600 B. C. From the unfavorable picture, therefore, which the poet gives as his own early experience of the condition of the rural cultivators, it is evident that the despot Theagenês had neither conferred upon them any permanent benefit, nor given them access to the judicial protection of the city.
It is thus that the despots of Corinth, Sikyôn, and Megara serve as samples of those revolutionary influences, which towards the beginning of the sixth century B. C., seem to have shaken or overturned the oligarchical governments in very many cities throughout the Grecian world. There existed a certain sympathy and alliance between the despots of Corinth and Sikyôn:[70] how far such feeling was farther extended to Megara, we do not know. The latter city seems evidently to have been more populous and powerful during the seventh and sixth centuries B. C., than we shall afterwards find her throughout the two brilliant centuries of Grecian history: her colonies, found as far distant as Bithynia and the Thracian Bosphorus on one side, and as Sicily on the other, argue an extent of trade as well as naval force once not inferior to Athens: so that we shall be the less surprised when we approach the life of Solon, to find her in possession of the island of Salamis, and long maintaining it, at one time with every promise of triumph, against the entire force of the Athenians.
CHAPTER X.
IONIC PORTION OF HELLAS. — ATHENS BEFORE SOLON.
Having traced in the preceding chapters the scanty stream of Peloponnesian history, from the first commencement of an authentic chronology in 776 B. C. to the maximum of Spartan territorial acquisition, and the general acknowledgment of Spartan primacy, prior to 547 B. C., I proceed to state as much as can be made out respecting the Ionic portion of Hellas during the same period. This portion comprehends Athens and Eubœa,—the Cyclades Islands,—and the Ionic cities on the coast of Asia Minor, with their different colonies.
In the case of Peloponnesus, we have been enabled to discern something like an order of real facts in the period alluded to,—Sparta makes great strides, while Argos falls. In the case of Athens, unfortunately, our materials are less instructive. The number of historical facts, anterior to the Solonian legislation, is very few indeed;—the interval between 776 B. C. and 624 B. C., the epoch of Drako’s legislation a short time prior to Kylôn’s attempted usurpation, gives us merely a list of archons, denuded of all incident.
In compliment to the heroism of Kodrus, who had sacrificed his life for the safety of his country, we are told that no person after him was permitted to bear the title of king:[71] his son Medôn, and twelve successors,—Akastus, Archippus, Thersippus, Phorbas, Megaklês, Diognêtus, Phereklês, Ariphrôn, Thespieus, Agamestôr, Æschylus, and Alkmæôn,—were all archons for life. In the second year of Alkmæôn (752 B. C.), the dignity of archon was restricted to a duration of ten years: and seven of these decennial archons are numbered,—Charops, Æsimidês, Kleidikus, Hippomenês, Leokratês, Apsandrus, Eryxias. With Kreôn, who succeeded Eryxias, the archonship was not only made annual, but put into commission and distributed among nine persons and these nine archons, annually changed, continue throughout all the historical period, interrupted only by the few intervals of political disturbance and foreign compression. Down to Kleidikus and Hippomenês (714 B. C.), the dignity of archon had continued to belong exclusively to the Medontidæ or descendants of Medôn and Kodrus:[72] at that period it was thrown open to all the Eupatrids, or order of nobility in the state.
Such is the series of names by which we step down from the level of legend to that of history. All our historical knowledge of Athens is confined to the period of the annual archons; which series of eponymous archons, from Kreôn downwards, is perfectly trustworthy.[73] Above 683 B. C., the Attic antiquaries have provided us with a string of names, which we must take as we find them, without being able either to warrant the whole or to separate the false from the true. There is no reason to doubt the general fact, that Athens, like so many other communities of Greece, was in its primitive times governed by an hereditary line of kings, and that it passed from that form of government into a commonwealth, first oligarchical, afterwards democratical.
We are in no condition to determine the civil classification and political constitution of Attica, even at the period of the archonship of Kreôn, 683 B. C., when authentic Athenian chronology first commences,—much less can we pretend to any knowledge of the anterior centuries. Great political changes were introduced first by Solon (about 594 B. C.), next by Kleisthenês (509 B. C.), afterwards by Aristeidês, Periklês, and Ephialtês, between the Persian and Peloponnesian wars: so that the old ante-Solonian,—nay, even the real Solonian,—polity was thus put more and more out of date and out of knowledge. But all the information which we possess respecting that old polity, is derived from authors who lived after all or most of these great changes,—and who, finding no records, nor anything better than current legends, explained the foretime as well as they could by guesses more or less ingenious, generally attached to the dominant legendary names. They were sometimes able to found their conclusions upon religious usages, periodical ceremonies, or common sacrifices, still subsisting in their own time; and these were doubtless the best evidences to be found respecting Athenian antiquity, since such practices often continued unaltered throughout all the political changes. It is in this way alone that we arrive at some partial knowledge of the ante-Solonian condition of Attica, though as a whole it still remains dark and unintelligible, even after the many illustrations of modern commentators.
Philochorus, writing in the third century before the Christian era, stated that Kekrops had originally distributed Attica into twelve districts,—Kekropia, Tetrapolis, Epakria, Dekeleia, Eleusis, Aphidnæ, Thorikus, Braurôn, Kythêrus, Sphêttus, Kêphisia, Phalêrus,—and that these twelve were consolidated into one political society by Theseus.[74] This partition does not comprise the Megarid, which, according to other statements, is represented as united with Attica, and as having formed part of the distribution made by king Pandiôn among his four sons, Nisus, Ægeus, Pallas, and Lykus,—a story as old as Sophoklês, at least.[75] In other accounts, again, a quadruple division is applied to the tribes, which are stated to have been four in number, beginning from Kekrops,—called in his time Kekrŏpis, Autochthon, Aktæa, and Paralia. Under king Kranaus, these tribes, we are told, received the names of Kranaïs, Atthis, Mesogæa, and Diakria,[76]—under Erichthonius, those of Dias, Athenaïs, Poseidonias, Hephæstias: at last, shortly after Erechtheus, they were denominated after the four sons of Iôn (son of Kreusa, daughter of Erechtheus, by Apollo), Geleontes, Hoplêtes, Ægikoreis, Argadeis. The four Attic or Ionic tribes, under these last-mentioned names, continued to form the classification of the citizens until the revolution of Kleisthenês in 509 B. C. by which the ten tribes were introduced, as we find them down to the period of Macedonian ascendency. It is affirmed, and with some etymological plausibility, that the denominations of these four tribes must originally have had reference to the occupations of those who bore them,—the Hoplêtes being the warrior-class, the Ægikoreis goatherds, the Argadeis artisans, and the Geleontes (Teleontes, or Gedeontes) cultivators: and hence some authors have ascribed to the ancient inhabitants of Attica[77] an actual primitive distribution into hereditary professions, or castes, similar to that which prevailed in India and Egypt. If we should even grant that such a division into castes might originally have prevailed, it must have grown obsolete long before the time of Solon: but there seem no sufficient grounds for believing that it ever did prevail. The names of the tribes may have been originally borrowed from certain professions, but it does not necessarily follow that the reality corresponded to this derivation, or that every individual who belonged to any tribe was a member of the profession from whence the name had originally been derived. From the etymology of the names, be it ever so clear, we cannot safely assume the historical reality of a classification according to professions. And this objection (which would be weighty, even if the etymology had been clear) becomes irresistible, when we add that even the etymology is not beyond dispute;[78] that the names themselves are written with a diversity which cannot be reconciled: and that the four professions named by Strabo omit the goatherds and include the priests; while those specified by Plutarch leave out the latter and include the former.[79]
All that seems certain is, that these were the four ancient Ionic tribes—analogous to the Hylleis, Pamphyli, and Dymanes among the Dorians—which prevailed not only at Athens, but among several of the Ionic cities derived from Athens. The Geleontes are mentioned in inscriptions now remaining belonging to Teôs in Ionia, and all the four are named in those of Kyzikus in the Propontis, which was a foundation from the Ionic Miletus.[80] The four tribes, and the four names (allowing for some variations of reading), are therefore historically verified; but neither the time of their introduction nor their primitive import are ascertainable matters, nor can any faith be put in the various constructions of the legends of Iôn, Erechtheus, and Kekrops, by modern commentators.
These four tribes may be looked at either as religious and social aggregates, in which capacity each of them comprised three phratries and ninety gentes; or as political aggregates, in which point of view each included three trittyes and twelve naukraries. Each phratry contained thirty gentes; each trittys comprised four naukraries: the total numbers were thus three hundred and sixty gentes and forty-eight naukraries. Moreover, each gens is said to have contained thirty heads of families, of whom therefore there would be a total of ten thousand eight hundred.
Comparing these two distributions one with the other, we may remark that they are distinct in their nature and proceed in opposite directions. The trittys and the naukrary are essentially fractional subdivisions of the tribe, and resting upon the tribe as their higher unity; the naukrary is a local circumscription, composed of the naukrars, or principal householders (so the etymology seems to indicate), who levy in each respective district the quota of public contributions which belongs to it, and superintend the disbursement,—provide the military force incumbent upon the district, being for each naukrary two horsemen and one ship,—and furnish the chief district-officers, the prytanes of the naukrari.[81] A certain number of foot soldiers, varying according to the demand, must probably be understood as accompanying these horsemen, but the quota is not specified, as it was perhaps thought unnecessary to limit precisely the obligations of any except the wealthier men who served on horseback,—at a period when oligarchical ascendency was paramount, and when the bulk of the people was in a state of comparative subjection. The forty-eight naukraries are thus a systematic subdivision of the four tribes, embracing altogether the whole territory, population, contributions, and military force of Attica,—a subdivision framed exclusively for purposes connected with the entire state.
But the phratries and gentes are a distribution completely different from this. They seem aggregations of small primitive unities into larger; they are independent of, and do not presuppose, the tribe; they arise separately and spontaneously, without preconcerted uniformity, and without reference to a common political purpose; the legislator finds them preëxisting, and adapts or modifies them to answer some national scheme. We must distinguish the general fact of the classification, and the successive subordination in the scale, of the families to the gens, of the gentes to the phratry, and of the phratries to the tribe,—from the precise numerical symmetry with which this subordination is invested, as we read it,—thirty families to a gens, thirty gentes to a phratry, three phratries to each tribe. If such nice equality of numbers could ever have been procured, by legislative constraint[82] operating upon preëxistent natural elements, the proportions could not have been permanently maintained. But we may reasonably doubt whether it did ever so exist: it appears more like the fancy of an author who pleased himself by supposing an original systematic creation in times anterior to records, by multiplying together the number of days in the month and of months in the year. That every phratry contained an equal number of gentes, and every gens an equal number of families, is a supposition hardly admissible without better evidence than we possess. But apart from this questionable precision of numerical scale, the phratries and gentes themselves were real, ancient, and durable associations among the Athenian people, highly important to be understood.[83] The basis of the whole was the house, hearth, or family,—a number of which, greater or less, composed the gens, or genos. This gens was therefore a clan, sept, or enlarged, and partly factitious, brotherhood, bound together by,—1. Common religious ceremonies, and exclusive privilege of priesthood, in honor of the same god, supposed to be the primitive ancestor, and characterized by a special surname. 2. By a common burial-place. 3. By mutual rights of succession to property. 4. By reciprocal obligations of help, defence, and redress of injuries. 5. By mutual right and obligation to intermarry in certain determinate cases, especially where there was an orphan daughter or heiress. 6. By possession, in some cases at least, of common property, an archon and a treasurer of their own. Such were the rights and obligations characterizing the gentile union:[84] the phratric union, binding together several gentes, was less intimate, but still included some mutual rights and obligations of an analogous character, and especially a communion of particular sacred rites and mutual privileges of prosecution in the event of a phrator being slain. Each phratry was considered as belonging to one of the four tribes, and all the phratries of the same tribe enjoyed a certain periodical communion of sacred rites, under the presidency of a magistrate called the phylo-basileus, or tribe-king, selected from the Eupatrids; Zeus Geleôn was in this manner the patron-god of the tribe Geleontes. Lastly, all the four tribes were linked together by the common worship of Apollo Patrôus, as their divine father and guardian; for Apollo was the father of Iôn, and the eponyms of all the four tribes were reputed sons of Iôn.
Such was the primitive religious and social union of the population of Attica in its gradually ascending scale,—as distinguished from the political union, probably of later introduction, represented at first by the trittyes and naukraries, and in after times by the ten Kleisthenean tribes, subdivided into trittyes and demes. The religious and family bond of aggregation is the earlier of the two: but the political bond, though beginning later, will be found to acquire constantly increasing influence throughout the greater part of this history. In the former, personal relation is the essential and predominant characteristic,[85]—local relation being subordinate: in the latter, property and residence become the chief considerations, and the personal element counts only as measured by these accompaniments. All these phratric and gentile associations, the larger as well as the smaller, were founded upon the same principles and tendencies of the Grecian mind,[86]—a coalescence of the idea of worship with that of ancestry, or of communion in certain special religious rites with communion of blood, real or supposed. The god, or hero, to whom the assembled members offered their sacrifices, was conceived as the primitive ancestor, to whom they owed their origin; often through a long list of intermediate names, as in the case of the Milesian Hekatæus, so often before adverted to.[87] Each family had its own sacred rites and funereal commemoration of ancestors, celebrated by the master of the house, to which none but members of the family were admissible: the extinction of a family, carrying with it the suspension of these religious rites, was held by the Greeks to be a misfortune, not merely from the loss of the citizens composing it, but also because the family gods and the manes of deceased citizens were thus deprived of their honors,[88] and might visit the country with displeasure. The larger associations, called gens, phratry, tribe, were formed by an extension of the same principle,—of the family considered as a religious brotherhood, worshipping some common god or hero with an appropriate surname, and recognizing him as their joint ancestor; and the festivals Theoenia and Apaturia[89]—the first Attic, the second common to all the Ionic race,—annually brought together the members of these phratries and gentes for worship, festivity, and maintenance of special sympathies; thus strengthening the larger ties without effacing the smaller.
Such were the manifestations of Grecian sociality, as we read them in the early constitution, not merely of Attica, but of other Grecian states besides. To Aristotle and Dikæarchus, it was an interesting inquiry to trace back all political society into certain assumed elementary atoms, and to show by what motives and means the original families, each having its separate meal-bin and fireplace,[90] had been brought together into larger aggregates. But the historian must accept as an ultimate fact the earliest state of things which his witnesses make known to him; and in the case now before us, the gentile and phratric unions are matters into the beginning of which we cannot pretend to penetrate.
Pollux—probably from Aristotle’s lost work on the Constitutions of Greece—informs us, distinctly, that the members of the same gens at Athens were not commonly related by blood,—and even without any express testimony we might have concluded such to be fact: to what extent the gens, at the unknown epoch of its first formation, was based upon actual relationship, we have no means of determining, either with regard to the Athenian or the Roman gentes, which were in all main points analogous. Gentilism is a tie by itself; distinct from the family ties, but presupposing their existence and extending them by an artificial analogy, partly founded on religious belief and partly on positive compact, so as to comprehend strangers in blood. All the members of one gens, or even of one phratry, believed themselves to be sprung, not, indeed, from the same grandfather or greatgrandfather, but from the same divine or heroic ancestor: all the contemporary members of the phratry of Hekatæus had a common god for their ancestor in the sixteenth degree; and this fundamental belief, into which the Greek mind passed with so much facility, was adopted and converted by positive compact into the gentile and phratric principle of union. It is because such a transfusion, not recognized by Christianity, is at variance with modern habits of thought, and because we do not readily understand how such a legal and religious fiction can have sunk deep into the Greek feelings, that the phratries and gentes appear to us mysterious: but they are in harmony with all the legendary genealogies which have been set forth in the preceding volume. Doubtless Niebuhr, in his valuable discussion of the ancient Roman gentes, is right in supposing that they were not real families, procreated from any common historical ancestor: but it is not the less true, though he seems to suppose otherwise, that the idea of the gens involved the belief in a common first father, divine or heroic,—a genealogy which we may properly call fabulous, but which was consecrated and accredited among the members of the gens itself, and served as one important bond of union between them.[91] And though an analytical mind like Aristotle might discern the difference between the gens and the family, so as to distinguish the former as the offspring of some special compact, still, this is no fair test of the feelings usual among early Greeks; nor is it certain that Aristotle himself, son of the physician Nikomachus, who belonged to the gens of the Asklepiads,[92] would have consented to disallow the procreative origin of all these religious families without any exception. The natural families of course changed from generation to generation, some extending themselves while others diminished or died out; but the gens received no alterations, except through the procreation, extinction, or subdivision of these component families; accordingly, the relations of the families with the gens were in perpetual course of fluctuation, and the gentile ancestorial genealogy, adapted as it doubtless was to the early condition of the gens, became in process of time partially obsolete and unsuitable. We hear of this genealogy but rarely, because it is only brought before the public in certain cases preëminent and venerable. But the humbler gentes had their common rites, and common superhuman ancestor and genealogy, as well as the more celebrated: the scheme and ideal basis was the same in all.
Analogies, borrowed from very different people and parts of the world, prove how readily these enlarged and factitious family unions assort with the ideas of an early stage of society. The Highland clan, the Irish sept,[93] the ancient legally constituted families in Friesland and Dithmarsch, the phis, or phara, among the Albanians, are examples of a similar practice:[94] and the adoption of prisoners by the North American Indians, as well as the universal prevalence and efficacy of the ceremony of adoption in the Grecian and Roman world, exhibit to us a solemn formality under certain circumstances, originating an union and affections similar to those of kindred. Of this same nature were the phratries and gentes at Athens, the curiæ and gentes at Rome, but they were peculiarly modified by the religious imagination of the ancient world, which always traced back the past time to gods and heroes: and religion thus supplied both the common genealogy as their basis, and the privileged communion of special sacred rites as means of commemoration and perpetuity. The gentes, both at Athens and in other parts of Greece, bore a patronymic name, the stamp of their believed common paternity: we find the Asklepiadæ in many parts of Greece,—the Aleuadæ in Thessaly,—the Midylidæ, Psalychidæ, Blepsiadæ, Euxenidæ, at Ægina,—the Branchidæ at Miletus,—the Nebridæ at Kôs,—the Iamidæ and Klytiadæ at Olympia,—the Akestoridæ at Argos,—the Kinyradæ in Cyprus,—the Penthilidæ at Mitylene,[95]—the Talthybiadæ at Sparta,—not less than the Kodridæ, Eumolpidæ, Phytalidæ, Lykomêdæ, Butadæ, Euneidæ, Hesychidæ, Brytiadæ, &c., in Attica.[96] To each of these corresponded a mythical ancestor more or less known, and passing for the first father as well as the eponymous hero of the gens,—Kodrus, Eumolpus, Butes, Phytalus, Hesychus, &c.
The revolution of Kleisthenês in 509 B. C. abolished the old tribes for civil purposes, and created ten new tribes,—leaving the phratries and gentes unaltered, but introducing the local distribution according to demes, or cantons, as the foundation of his new political tribes. A certain number of demes belonged to each of the ten Kleisthenean tribes (the demes in the same tribes were not usually contiguous, so that the tribe was not coincident with a definite circumscription), and the deme, in which every individual was then registered, continued to be that in which his descendants were also registered. But the gentes had no connection, as such, with these new tribes, and the members of the same gens might belong to different demes.[97] It deserves to be remarked, however, that to a certain extent, in the old arrangement of Attica, the division into gentes coincided with the division into demes; that is, it happened not unfrequently that the gennêtes or members of the same gens lived in the same canton, so that the name of the gens and the name of the deme was the same: moreover, it seems that Kleisthenês recognized a certain number of new demes, to which he gave names derived from some important gens resident near the spot. It is thus that we are to explain the large number of the Kleisthenean demes which bear patronymic names.[98]
There is one remarkable difference between the Roman and the Grecian gens, arising from the different practice in regard to naming. A Roman patrician bore habitually three names,—the gentile name, with one name following it to denote his family, and another preceding it peculiar to himself in that family. But in Athens, at least after the revolution of Kleisthenês, the gentile name was not employed: a man was described by his own single name, followed first by the name of his father, and next by that of the deme to which he belonged,—as Æschinês, son of Atromêtus, a Kothôkid. Such a difference in the habitual system of naming, tended to make the gentile tie more present to every one’s mind at Rome than in the Greek cities.
Before the pecuniary classification of the Atticans introduced by Solon, the phratries and gentes, and the trittyes and naukraries, were the only recognized bonds among them, and the only basis of legal rights and obligations, over and above the natural family. The gens constituted a close incorporation, both as to property and as to persons. Until the time of Solon, no man had any power of testamentary disposition: if he died without children, his gennêtes succeeded to his property,[99] and so they continued to do even after Solon, if he died intestate. An orphan girl might be claimed in marriage of right by any member of the gens, the nearest agnates being preferred;[100] if she was poor, and he did not choose to marry her himself, the law of Solon compelled him to provide her with a dowry proportional to his enrolled scale of property, and to give her out in marriage to another; and the magnitude of the dowry required to be given,—large, even as fixed by Solon, and afterwards doubled,—seems a proof that the lawgiver intended indirectly to enforce actual marriage.[101] If a man was murdered, first his near relations, next his gennêtes and phrators, were both allowed and required to prosecute the crime at law;[102] his fellow demots, or inhabitants of the same deme, did not possess the like right of prosecuting. All that we hear of the most ancient Athenian laws is based upon the gentile and phratric divisions, which are treated throughout as extensions of the family. It is to be observed that this division is completely independent of any property qualification,—rich men as well as poor being comprehended in the same gens.[103] Moreover, the different gentes were very unequal in dignity, arising chiefly from the religious ceremonies of which each possessed the hereditary and exclusive administration, and which, being in some cases considered as of preëminent sanctity in reference to the whole city, were therefore nationalized. Thus the Eumolpidæ and Kêrȳkes, who supplied the Hierophant, and superintended the mysteries of the Eleusinian Dêmêtêr,—and the Butadæ, who furnished the priestess of Athênê Polias as well as the priest of Poseidôn Erechtheus in the acropolis,—seem to have been reverenced above all the other gentes.[104] When the name Butadæ was adopted in the Kleisthenean arrangement as the name of a deme, the holy gens so called adopted the distinctive denomination of Eteobutadæ, or “The True Butadæ.”[105]
A great many of the ancient gentes of Attica are known to us by name; but there is only one phratry (the Achniadæ) whose title has come down to us.[106] These phratries and gentes probably never at any time included the whole population of the country,—and the proportion not included in them tended to become larger and larger, in the times anterior to Kleisthenês,[107] as well as afterwards. They remained, under his constitution, and throughout the subsequent history, as religious quasi-families, or corporations, conferring rights and imposing liabilities which were enforced in the regular dikasteries, but not directly connected with the citizenship or with political functions: a man might be a citizen without being enrolled in any gens. The forty-eight naukraries ceased to exist, for any important purposes, under his constitution: the deme, instead of the naukrary, became the elementary political division, for military and financial objects, and the demarch became the working local president, in place of the chief of the naukrars. The deme, however, was not coincident with a naukrary, nor the demarch with the previous chief of the naukrary, though they were analogous and constituted for the like purpose.[108] While the naukraries had been only forty-eight in number, the demes formed smaller subdivisions, and, in later times at least, amounted to a hundred and seventy-four.[109]
But though this early quadruple division into tribes is tolerably intelligible in itself, there is much difficulty in reconciling it with that severalty of government which we learn to have originally prevailed among the inhabitants of Attica. From Kekrops down to Theseus, says Thucydidês, there were many different cities in Attica, each of them autonomous and self-governing, with its own prytaneium and its own archons; and it was only on occasions of some common danger that these distinct communities took counsel together under the authority of the Athenian kings, whose city at that time comprised merely the holy rock of Athênê on the plain,[110]—afterwards so conspicuous as the acropolis of the enlarged Athens,—together with a narrow area under it on the southern side. It was Theseus, he states, who effected that great revolution whereby the whole of Attica was consolidated into one government, all the local magistracies and councils being made to centre in the prytaneium and senate of Athens: his combined sagacity and power enforced upon all the inhabitants of Attica the necessity of recognizing Athens as the one city in the country, and of occupying their own abodes simply as constituent portions of Athenian territory. This important move, which naturally produced a great extension of the central city, was commemorated throughout the historical times by the Athenians in the periodical festival called Synœkia, in honor of the goddess Athênê.[111]
Such is the account which Thucydidês gives of the original severalty and subsequent consolidation of the different portions of Attica. Of the general fact there is no reason to doubt, though the operative cause assigned by the historian,—the power and sagacity of Theseus,—belongs to legend and not to history. Nor can we pretend to determine either the real steps by which such a change was brought about, or its date, or the number of portions which went to constitute the full-grown Athens,—farther enlarged at some early period, though we do not know when, by voluntary junction of the Bœotian, or semi-Bœotian, town Eleutheræ, situated among the valleys of Kithærôn between Eleusis and Platæa. It was the standing habit of the population of Attica, even down to the Peloponnesian war,[112] to reside in their several cantons, where their ancient festivals and temples yet continued as relics of a state of previous autonomy: their visits to the city were made only at special times, for purposes religious or political, and they yet looked upon the country residence as their real home. How deep-seated this cantonal feeling was among them, we may see by the fact that it survived the temporary exile forced upon them by the Persian invasion, and was resumed when the expulsion of that destroying host enabled them to rebuild their ruined dwellings in Attica.[113]
How many of the demes recognized by Kleisthenês had originally separate governments, or in what local aggregates they stood combined, we cannot now make out; it will be recollected that the city of Athens itself contained several demes, and Peiræeus also formed a deme apart. Some of the twelve divisions, which Philochorus ascribes to Kekrops, present probable marks of an ancient substantive existence,—Kekropia, or the region surrounding and including the city and acropolis; the tetrapolis, composed of Œnoê, Trikorythus, Probalinthus, and Marathon;[114] Eleusis; Aphidnæ and Dekeleia,[115] both distinguished by their peculiar mythical connection with Sparta and the Dioskuri. But it is difficult to imagine that Phalêrum, which is one of the separate divisions named by Philochorus, can ever have enjoyed an autonomy apart from Athens. Moreover, we find among some of the demes which Philochorus does not notice, evidences of standing antipathies, and prohibitions of intermarriage, which might seem to indicate that these had once been separate little states.[116] Though in most cases we can infer little from the legends and religious ceremonies which nearly every deme[117] had peculiar to itself, yet those of Eleusis are so remarkable, as to establish the probable autonomy of that township down to a comparatively late period. The Homeric Hymn to Dêmêtêr, recounting the visit of that goddess to Eleusis after the abduction of her daughter, and the first establishment of the Eleusinian ceremonies, specifies the eponymous prince Eleusis, and the various chiefs of the place,—Keleos, Triptolemus, Dioklês, and Eumolpus; it also notices the Rharian plain in the neighborhood of Eleusis, but not the least allusion is made to Athens or to any concern of the Athenians in the presence or worship of the goddess. There is reason to believe that at the time when this Hymn was composed, Eleusis was an independent town: what that time was we have no means of settling, though Voss puts it as low as the 30th Olympiad.[118] And the proof hence derived is so much the more valuable, because the Hymn to Dêmêtêr presents a coloring strictly special and local; moreover, the story told by Solon to Crœsus, respecting Tellus the Athenian, who perished in battle against the neighboring townsmen of Eleusis,[119] assumes, in like manner, the independence of the latter in earlier times. Nor is it unimportant to notice that, even so low as 300 B. C., the observant visitor Dikæarchus professes to detect a difference between the native Athenians and the Atticans, as well in physiognomy as in character and taste.[120]
In the history set forth to us of the proceedings of Theseus, no mention is made of these four Ionic tribes; but another and a totally different distribution of the people into eupatridæ, geômori, and demiurgi, which he is said to have first introduced, is brought to our notice; Dionysius of Halikarnassus gives only a double division,—eupatridæ and dependent cultivators; corresponding to his idea of the patricians and clients in early Rome.[121] As far as we can understand this triple distinction, it seems to be disparate and unconnected with the four tribes above mentioned. The eupatridæ are the wealthy and powerful men, belonging to the most distinguished families in all the various gentes, and principally living in the city of Athens, after the consolidation of Attica: from them are distinguished the middling and lower people, roughly classified into husbandmen and artisans. To the eupatridæ, is ascribed a religious as well as a political and social ascendency; they are represented as the source of all authority on matters both sacred and profane;[122] they doubtless comprised those gentes, such as the Butadæ, whose sacred ceremonies were looked upon with the greatest reverence by the people: and we may conceive Eumolpus, Keleos, Dioklês, etc., as they are described in the Homeric Hymn to Dêmêtêr, in the character of eupatridæ of Eleusis. The humbler gentes, and the humbler members of each gens, would appear in this classification confounded with that portion of the people who belonged to no gens at all.
From these eupatridæ exclusively, and doubtless by their selection, the nine annual archons—probably also the prytanes of the naukrari—were taken. That the senate of areopagus was formed of members of the same order, we may naturally presume: the nine archons all passed into it at the expiration of their year of office, subject only to the condition of having duly passed the test of accountability; and they remained members for life. These are the only political authorities of whom we hear in the earliest imperfectly known period of the Athenian government, after the discontinuance of the king, and the adoption of the annual change of archons. The senate of areopagus seems to represent the Homeric council of old men;[123] and there were doubtless, on particular occasions, general assemblies of the people, with the same formal and passive character as the Homeric agora,—at least, we shall observe traces of such assemblies anterior to the Solonian legislation. Some of the writers of antiquity ascribed the first establishment of the senate of areopagus to Solon, just as there were also some who considered Lykurgus as having first brought together the Spartan gerusia. But there can be little doubt that this is a mistake, and that the senate of areopagus is a primordial institution, of immemorial antiquity, though its constitution as well as its functions underwent many changes. It stood at first alone as a permanent and collegiate authority, originally by the side of the kings and afterwards by the side of the archons: it would then of course be known by the title of The Boulê,—The Senate, or council; its distinctive title, “Senate of Areopagus,” borrowed from the place where its sittings were held, would not be bestowed until the formation by Solon of the second senate, or council, from which there was need to discriminate it.
This seems to explain the reason why it was never mentioned in the ordinances of Drako, whose silence supplied one argument in favor of the opinion that it did not exist in his time, and that it was first constituted by Solon.[124] We hear of the senate of areopagus chiefly as a judicial tribunal, because it acted in this character constantly throughout Athenian history, and because the orators have most frequent occasion to allude to its decisions on matters of trial. But its functions were originally of the widest senatorial character, directive generally as well as judicial. And although the gradual increase of democracy at Athens, as will be hereafter explained, both abridged its powers and contributed still farther comparatively to lower it, by enlarging the direct working of the people in assembly and judicature, as well as that of the senate of Five Hundred, which was a permanent adjunct and adminicle of the public assembly,—yet it seems to have been, even down to the time of Periklês, the most important body in the state. And after it had been cast into the background by the political reforms of that great man, we still find it on particular occasions stepping forward to reassert its ancient powers, and to assume for the moment that undefined interference which it had enjoyed without dispute in antiquity. The attachment of the Athenians to their ancient institutions gave to the senate of areopagus a constant and powerful hold on their minds, and this feeling was rather strengthened than weakened when it ceased to be an object of popular jealousy,—when it could no longer be employed as an auxiliary of oligarchical pretensions.
Of the nine archons, whose number continued unaltered from 638 B. C. to the end of the free democracy, three bore special titles,—the archon eponymus, from whose name the designation of the year was derived, and who was spoken of as The Archon; the archon basileus (king), or more frequently, the basileus; and the polemarch. The remaining six passed by the general title of Thesmothetæ. Of the first three, each possessed exclusive judicial competence in regard to certain special matters: the thesmothetæ were in this respect all on a par, acting sometimes as a board, sometimes individually. The archon eponymus determined all disputes relative to the family, the gentile, and the phratric relations: he was the legal protector of orphans and widows.[125] The archon basileus, or king archon, enjoyed competence in complaints respecting offences against the religious sentiment and respecting homicide. The polemarch, speaking of times anterior to Kleisthenês, was the leader of the military force and judge in disputes between citizens and non-citizens. Moreover, each of these three archons had particular religious festivals assigned to him, which it was his duty to superintend and conduct. The six thesmothetæ seem to have been judges in disputes and complaints, generally, against citizens, saving the special matters reserved for the cognizance of the first two archons. According to the proper sense of the word thesmothetæ, all the nine archons were entitled to be so called,[126] though the first three had especial designations of their own: the word thesmoi, analogous to the themistes[127] of Homer, includes in its meaning both general laws and particular sentences,—the two ideas not being yet discriminated, and the general law being conceived only in its application to some particular case. Drako was the first thesmothet who was called upon to set down his thesmoi in writing, and thus to invest them essentially with a character of more or less generality.
In the later and better-known times of Athenian law, we find these archons deprived in great measure of their powers of judging and deciding, and restricted to the task of first hearing the parties and collecting the evidence, next, of introducing the matter for trial into the appropriate dikastery, over which they presided. Originally, there was no separation of powers: the archons both judged and administered, sharing among themselves those privileges which had once been united in the hands of the king, and probably accountable at the end of their year of office to the senate of areopagus. It is probable also, that the functions of that senate, and those of the prytanes of the naukrars, were of the same double and confused nature. All of these functionaries belonged to the eupatrids, and all of them doubtless acted more or less in the narrow interest of their order: moreover, there was ample room for favoritism, in the way of connivance as well as antipathy, on the part of the archons. That such was decidedly the case, and that discontent began to be serious, we may infer from the duty imposed on the thesmothet Drako, B. C. 624, to put in writing the thesmoi, or ordinances, so that they might be “shown publicly,” and known beforehand.[128] He did not meddle with the political constitution, and in his ordinances Aristotle finds little worthy of remark except the extreme severity[129] of the punishments awarded: petty thefts, or even proved idleness of life, being visited with death or disfranchisement.
But we are not to construe this remark as demonstrating any special inhumanity in the character of Drako, who was not invested with the large power which Solon afterwards enjoyed, and cannot be imagined to have imposed upon the community severe laws of his own invention. Himself of course an eupatrid, he set forth in writing such ordinances as the eupatrid archons had before been accustomed to enforce without writing, in the particular cases which came before them; and the general spirit of penal legislation had become so much milder, during the two centuries which followed, that these old ordinances appeared to Aristotle intolerably rigorous. Probably neither Drako, nor the Lokrian Zaleukus, who somewhat preceded him in date, were more rigorous than the sentiment of the age: indeed, the few fragments of the Drakonian tables which have reached us, far from exhibiting indiscriminate cruelty, introduce, for the first time, into the Athenian law, mitigating distinctions in respect to homicide;[130] founded on the variety of concomitant circumstances. He is said to have constituted the judges called Ephetæ, fifty-one elders belonging to some respected gens or possessing an exalted position, who held their sittings for trial of homicide in three different spots, according to the difference of the cases submitted to them. If the accused party, admitting the fact, denied any culpable intention and pleaded accident, the case was tried at the place called the palladium; when found guilty of accidental homicide, he was condemned to a temporary exile, unless he could appease the relatives of the deceased, but his property was left untouched. If, again, admitting the fact, he defended himself by some valid ground of justification, such as self-defence, or flagrant adultery with his wife on the part of the deceased, the trial took place on ground consecrated to Apollo and Artemis, called the Delphinium. A particular spot called the Phreattys, close to the sea-shore, was also named for the trial of a person, who, while under sentence of exile for an unintentional homicide, might be charged with a second homicide, committed of course without the limits of the territory: being considered as impure from the effects of the former sentence, he was not permitted to set foot on the soil, but stood his trial on a boat hauled close in shore. At the prytaneium, or government-house itself, sittings were held by the four phylo-basileis, or tribe-kings, to try any inanimate object (a piece of wood or stone, etc.) which had caused death to any one, without the proved intervention of a human hand: the wood or stone, when the fact was verified, was formally cast beyond the border.[131] All these distinctions of course imply the preliminary investigation of the case, called anakrisis, by the king-archon, in order that it might be known what was the issue, and where the sittings of the ephetæ were to be held.
So intimately was the mode of dealing with homicide connected with the religious feelings of the Athenians, that these old regulations were never formally abrogated throughout the historical times, and were read engraved on their column by the contemporaries of Dêmosthenês.[132] The areopagus continued in judicial operation, and the ephetæ are spoken of as if they were so, even through the age of Dêmosthenês; though their functions were tacitly usurped or narrowed, and their dignity impaired,[133] by the more popular dikasteries afterwards created. It is in this way that they have become known to us, while the other Drakonian institutions have perished: but there is much obscurity respecting them, particularly in regard to the relation between the ephetæ and the areopagites. Indeed, so little was known on the subject, even by the historical inquirers of Athens, that most of them supposed the council of areopagus to have received its first origin from Solon: and even Aristotle, though he contradicts this view, expresses himself in no very positive language.[134] That judges sat at the areopagus for the trial of homicide, previous to Drako, seems implied in the arrangements of that lawgiver respecting the ephetæ, inasmuch as he makes no new provision for trying the direct issue of intentional homicide, which, according to all accounts, fell within the cognizance of the areopagus: but whether the ephetæ and the areopagites were the same persons, wholly or partially, our information is not sufficient to discover. Before Drako, there existed no tribunal for trying homicide, except the senate, sitting at the areopagus, and we may conjecture that there was something connected with that spot,—legends, ceremonies, or religious feelings,—which compelled judges there sitting to condemn every man proved guilty of homicide, and forbade them to take account of extenuating or justifying circumstances.[135] Drako appointed the ephetæ to sit at different places; and these places are so pointedly marked, and were so unalterably maintained, that we may see in how peculiar a manner those special issues, of homicide under particular circumstances, which he assigned to each, were adapted, in Athenian belief, to the new sacred localities chosen,[136] each having its own distinct ceremonial and procedure appointed by the gods themselves. That the religious feelings of the Greeks were associated in the most intimate manner with particular localities, has already been often remarked; and Drako proceeded agreeably to them in his arrangements for mitigating the indiscriminate condemnation of every man found guilty of homicide, which was unavoidable so long as the areopagus remained the only place of trial. The man who either confessed, or was proved to have shed the blood of another, could not be acquitted, or condemned to less than the full penalty (of death or perpetual exile, with confiscation of property) by the judges on the hill of Arês, whatever excuse he might have to offer: but the judges at the palladium and delphinium might hear him, and even admit his plea, without contracting the taint of irreligion. Drako did not directly meddle with, nor indeed ever mention, the judges sitting in areopagus.
In respect to homicide, then, the Drakonian ordinances were partly a reform of the narrowness, partly a mitigation of the rigor, of the old procedure; and these are all that have come down to us, having been preserved unchanged from the religious respect of the Athenians for antiquity on this peculiar matter. The rest of his ordinances are said to have been repealed by Solon, on account of their intolerable severity. So they doubtless appeared, to the Athenians of a later day, who had come to measure offences by a different scale; and even to Solon, who had to calm the wrath of a suffering people in actual mutiny.
That under this eupatrid oligarchy and severe legislation the people of Attica were sufficiently miserable, we shall presently see, when I recount the proceedings of Solon: but the age of democracy had not yet begun, and the government received its first shock from the hands of an ambitious eupatrid who aspired to the despotism. Such was the phase, as has been remarked in the preceding chapter, through which, during the century now under consideration, a large proportion of the Grecian governments passed.
Kylôn, an Athenian patrician, who superadded to a great family position the personal celebrity of a victory at Olympia, as runner in the double stadium, conceived the design of seizing the acropolis and constituting himself despot. Whether any special event had occurred at home to stimulate this project, we do not know: but he obtained both encouragement and valuable aid from his father-in-law Theagenês of Megara, who, by means of his popularity with the people, had already subverted the Megarian oligarchy, and become despot of his native city. Previous to so hazardous an attempt, however, Kylôn consulted the Delphian oracle, and was advised by the god in reply, to take the opportunity of “the greatest festival of Zeus” for seizing the acropolis. Such expressions, in the natural interpretation put upon them by every Greek, designated the Olympic games in Peloponnesus,—to Kylôn, moreover himself an Olympic victor, that interpretation came recommended by an apparent peculiar propriety. But Thucydidês, not indifferent to the credit of the oracle, reminds his readers that no question was asked nor any express direction given, where the intended “greatest festival of Zeus” was to be sought,—whether in Attica or elsewhere,—and that the public festival of the Diasia, celebrated periodically and solemnly in the neighborhood of Athens, was also denominated the “greatest festival of Zeus Meilichius.” Probably no such exegetical scruples presented themselves to any one, until after the miserable failure of the conspiracy; least of all to Kylôn himself, who, at the recurrence of the next ensuing Olympic games, put himself at the head of a force, partly furnished by Theagenês, partly composed of his friends at home, and took sudden possession of the sacred rock of Athens. But the attempt excited general indignation among the Athenian people, who crowded in from the country to assist the archons and the prytanes of the naukrari in putting it down. Kylôn and his companions were blockaded in the acropolis, where they soon found themselves in straits for want of water and provisions; and though many of the Athenians went back to their homes, a sufficient besieging force was left to reduce the conspirators to the last extremity. After Kylôn himself had escaped by stealth, and several of his companions had died of hunger, the remainder, renouncing all hope of defence, sat down as suppliants at the altar. The archon Megaklês, on regaining the citadel, found these suppliants on the point of expiring with hunger on the sacred ground, and to prevent such a pollution, engaged them to quit the spot by a promise of sparing their lives. No sooner, however, had they been removed into profane ground, than the promise was violated and they were put to death: some even, who, seeing the fate with which they were menaced, contrived to throw themselves upon the altar of the venerable goddesses, or eumenides, near the areopagus, received their death-wounds in spite of that inviolable protection.[137]
Though the conspiracy was thus put down, and the government upheld, these deplorable incidents left behind them a long train of calamity,—profound religious remorse mingled with exasperated political antipathies. There still remained, if not a considerable Kylonian party, at least a large body of persons who resented the way in which the Kylonians had been put to death, and who became in consequence bitter enemies of Megaklês the archon, and of the great family of the Alkmæônidæ, to which he belonged. Not only Megaklês himself and his personal assistants were denounced as smitten with a curse, but the taint was supposed to be transmitted to his descendants, and we shall hereafter find the wound reopened, not only in the second and third generation, but also two centuries after the original event.[138] When we see that the impression left by the proceeding was so very serious, even after the length of time which had elapsed, we may well believe that it was sufficient, immediately afterwards, to poison altogether the tranquillity of the state. The Alkmæônids and their partisans long defied their opponents, resisting any public trial,—and the dissensions continued without hope of termination, until Solon, then enjoying a lofty reputation for sagacity and patriotism, as well as for bravery, persuaded them to submit to judicial cognizance,—at a moment so far distant from the event, that several of the actors were dead. They were accordingly tried before a special judicature of three hundred eupatrids, Myrôn, of the deme Phlyeis, being their accuser. In defending themselves against the charge that they had sinned against the reverence due to the gods and the consecrated right of asylum, they alleged that the Kylonian suppliants, when persuaded to quit the holy ground, had tied a cord round the statue of the goddess and clung to it for protection in their march; but on approaching the altar of the eumenides, the cord accidentally broke,—and this critical event, so the accused persons argued, proved that the goddess had herself withdrawn from them her protecting hand and abandoned them to their fate.[139] Their argument, remarkable as an illustration of the feelings of the time, was not, however, accepted as an excuse: they were found guilty, and while such of them as were alive retired into banishment, those who had already died were disinterred and cast beyond the borders. Yet their exile, continuing as it did only for a time, was not held sufficient to expiate the impiety for which they had been condemned. The Alkmæônids, one of the most powerful families in Attica, long continued to be looked upon as a tainted race,[140] and in cases of public calamity were liable to be singled out as having by their sacrilege drawn down the judgment of the gods upon their countrymen.[141]
Nor was the banishment of the guilty parties adequate in other respects to restore tranquillity. Not only did pestilential disorders prevail, but the religious susceptibilities and apprehensions of the Athenian community also remained deplorably excited: they were oppressed with sorrow and despondency, saw phantoms and heard supernatural menaces, and felt the curse of the gods upon them without abatement.[142] In particular, it appears that the minds of the women—whose religious impulses were recognized generally by the ancient legislators as requiring watchful control—were thus disturbed and frantic. The sacrifices offered at Athens did not succeed in dissipating the epidemic, nor could the prophets at home, though they recognized that special purifications were required, discover what were the new ceremonies capable of appeasing the divine wrath. The Delphian oracle directed them to invite a higher spiritual influence from abroad, and this produced the memorable visit of the Kretan prophet and sage Epimenidês to Athens.
The century between 620 and 500 B. C. appears to have been remarkable for the first diffusion and potent influence of distinct religious brotherhoods, mystic rites, and expiatory ceremonies, none of which, as I have remarked in a former chapter, find any recognition in the Homeric epic. To this age belong Thalêtas, Aristeas, Abaris, Pythagoras, Onomakritus, and the earliest provable agency of the Orphic sect.[143] Of the class of men here noticed, Epimenidês, a native of Phæstus or Knossus in Krete,[144] was one of the most celebrated,—and the old legendary connection between Athens and Krete, which shows itself in the tales of Theseus and Minos, is here again manifested in the recourse which the Athenians had to this island to supply their spiritual need. Epimenidês seems to have been connected with the worship of the Kretan Zeus, in whose favor he stood so high as to receive the denomination of the new Kurête[145]—the Kurêtes having been the primitive ministers and organizers of that worship. He was said to be the son of the nymph Baltê; to be supplied by the nymphs with constant food, since he was never seen to eat; to have fallen asleep in his youth in a cave, and to have continued in this state without interruption for fifty-seven years; though some asserted that he remained all this time a wanderer in the mountains, collecting and studying medicinal botany in the vocation of an Iatromantis, or leech and prophet combined. Such narratives mark the idea entertained by antiquity of Epimenidês, the Purifier,[146] who was now called in to heal both the epidemic and the mental affliction prevalent among the Athenian people, in the same manner as his countryman and contemporary Thalêtas had been, a few years before, invited to Sparta to appease a pestilence by the effect of his music and religious hymns.[147] The favor of Epimenidês with the gods, his knowledge of propitiatory ceremonies, and his power of working upon the religious feeling, was completely successful in restoring both health and mental tranquillity at Athens. He is said to have turned out some black and white sheep on the areopagus, directing attendants to follow and watch them, and to erect new altars to the appropriate local deities on the spots where the animals lay down.[148] He founded new chapels and established various lustral ceremonies; and more especially, he regulated the worship paid by the women, in such a manner as to calm the violent impulses which had before agitated them. We know hardly anything of the details of his proceeding, but the general fact of his visit, and the salutary effects produced in removing the religious despondency which oppressed the Athenians, are well attested: consoling assurances and new ritual precepts, from the lips of a person supposed to stand high in the favor of Zeus, were the remedy which this unhappy disorder required. Moreover, Epimenidês had the prudence to associate himself with Solon, and while he thus doubtless obtained much valuable advice, he assisted indirectly in exalting the reputation of Solon himself, whose career of constitutional reform was now fast approaching. He remained long enough at Athens to restore completely a more comfortable tone of religious feeling, and then departed, carrying with him universal gratitude and admiration, but refusing all other reward, except a branch from the sacred olive-tree in the acropolis.[149] His life is said to have been prolonged to the unusual period of one hundred and fifty-four years, according to a statement which was current during the time of his younger contemporary Xenophanês of Kolophon;[150] and the Kretans even ventured to affirm that he lived three hundred years. They extolled him not merely as a sage and a spiritual purifier, but also as a poet,—very long compositions on religious and mythical subjects being ascribed to him; according to some accounts, they even worshipped him as a god. Both Plato and Cicero considered Epimenidês in the same light in which he was regarded by his contemporaries, as a prophet divinely inspired, and foretelling the future under fits of temporary ecstasy: but according to Aristotle, Epimenidês himself professed to have received from the gods no higher gift than that of divining the unknown phenomena of the past.[151]
The religious mission of Epimenidês to Athens, and its efficacious as well as healing influence on the public mind, deserve notice as characteristics of the age in which they occurred.[152] If we transport ourselves two centuries forward, to the Peloponnesian war, when rational influences and positive habits of thought had acquired a durable hold upon the superior minds, and when practical discussions on political and judicial matters were familiar to every Athenian citizen, no such uncontrollable religious misery could well have subdued the entire public; and if it had, no living man could have drawn to himself such universal veneration as to be capable of effecting a cure. Plato,[153] admitting the real healing influence of rites and ceremonies, fully believed in Epimenidês as an inspired prophet during the past; but towards those who preferred claims to supernatural power in his own day, he was not so easy of faith. He, as well as Euripides and Theophrastus, treated with indifference, and even with contempt, the orpheotelestæ of the later times, who advertised themselves as possessing the same patent knowledge of ceremonial rites, and the same means of guiding the will of the gods, as Epimenidês had wielded before them. These orpheotelestæ unquestionably numbered a considerable tribe of believers, and speculated with great effect, as well as with profit to themselves, upon the timorous consciences of rich men:[154] but they enjoyed no respect with the general public, or with those to whose authority the public habitually looked up. Degenerate as they were, however, they were the legitimate representatives of the prophet and purifier from Knossus, to whose presence the Athenians had been so much indebted two centuries before: and their altered position was owing less to any falling off in themselves, than to an improvement in the mass upon whom they sought to operate. Had Epimenidês himself come to Athens in those days, his visit would probably have been as much inoperative to all public purposes as a repetition of the stratagem of Phyê, clothed and equipped as the goddess Athênê, which had succeeded so completely in the days of Peisistratus,—a stratagem which even Herodotus treats as incredibly absurd, although, a century before his time, both the city of Athens and the demes of Attica had obeyed, as a divine mandate, the orders of this magnificent and stately woman, to restore Peisistratus.[155]
CHAPTER XI.
SOLONIAN LAWS AND CONSTITUTION.
We now approach a new era in Grecian history,—the first known example of a genuine and disinterested constitutional reform, and the first foundation-stone of that great fabric, which afterwards became the type of democracy in Greece. The archonship of the eupatrid Solon dates in 594 B. C., thirty years after that of Drako, and about eighteen years after the conspiracy of Kylôn, assuming the latter event to be correctly placed B. C. 612.
The life of Solon by Plutarch and by Diogenês, especially the former, are our principal sources of information respecting this remarkable man; and while we thank them for what they have told us, it is impossible to avoid expressing disappointment that they have not told us more. For Plutarch certainly had before him both the original poems, and the original laws, of Solon, and the few transcripts which he gives from one or the other form the principal charm of his biography: but such valuable materials ought to have been made available to a more instructive result than that which he has brought out. There is hardly anything more to be deplored, amidst the lost treasures of the Grecian mind, than the poems of Solon; for we see by the remaining fragments, that they contained notices of the public and social phenomena before him, which he was compelled attentively to study,—blended with the touching expression of his own personal feelings, in the post, alike honorable and difficult, to which the confidence of his countrymen had exalted him.
Solon, son of Exekestidês, was a eupatrid of middling fortune,[156] but of the purest heroic blood, belonging to the gens or family of the Kodrids and Neleids, and tracing his origin to the god Poseidôn. His father is said to have diminished his substance by prodigality, which compelled Solon in his earlier years to have recourse to trade, and in this pursuit he visited many parts of Greece and Asia. He was thus enabled to enlarge the sphere of his observation, and to provide material for thought as well as for composition: and his poetical talents displayed themselves at a very early age, first on light, afterwards on serious subjects. It will be recollected that there was at that time no Greek prose writing, and that the acquisitions as well as the effusions of an intellectual man, even in their simplest form, adjusted themselves not to the limitations of the period and the semicolon, but to those of the hexameter and pentameter: nor in point of fact do the verses of Solon aspire to any higher effect than we are accustomed to associate with an earnest, touching, and admonitory prose composition. The advice and appeals which he frequently addressed to his countrymen[157] were delivered in this easy metre, doubtless far less difficult than the elaborate prose of subsequent writers or speakers, such as Thucydidês, Isokratês, or Demosthenês. His poetry and his reputation became known throughout many parts of Greece, and he was classed along with Thalês of Milêtus, Bias of Priênê, Pittakus of Mytilênê, Periander of Corinth, Kleobulus of Lindus, Cheilôn of Lacedæmon,—altogether forming the constellation afterwards renowned as the Seven wise men.
The first particular event in respect to which Solon appears as an active politician, is the possession of the island of Salamis, then disputed between Megara and Athens. Megara was at that time able to contest with Athens, and for sometime to contest with success, the occupation of this important island,—a remarkable fact, which perhaps may be explained by supposing that the inhabitants of Athens and its neighborhood carried on the struggle with only partial aid from the rest of Attica. However this may be, it appears that the Megarians had actually established themselves in Salamis, at the time when Solon began his political career, and that the Athenians had experienced so much loss in the struggle, as to have formally prohibited any citizen from ever submitting a proposition for its reconquest. Stung with this dishonorable abnegation, Solon counterfeited a state of ecstatic excitement, rushed into the agora, and there, on the stone usually occupied by the official herald, pronounced to the crowd around a short elegiac poem,[158] which he had previously composed on the subject of Salamis. He enforced upon them the disgrace of abandoning the island, and wrought so powerfully upon their feelings, that they rescinded the prohibitory law: “Rather (he exclaimed) would I forfeit my native city, and become a citizen of Pholegandrus, than be still named an Athenian, branded with the shame of surrendered Salamis!” The Athenians again entered into the war, and conferred upon him the command of it,—partly, as we are told, at the instigation of Peisistratus, though the latter must have been at this time (600-594 B. C.) a very young man, or rather a boy.[159]
The stories in Plutarch, as to the way in which Salamis was recovered, are contradictory as well as apocryphal, ascribing to Solon various stratagems to deceive the Megarian occupiers; unfortunately, no authority is given for any of them. According to that which seems the most plausible, he was directed by the Delphian god, first to propitiate the local heroes of the island; and he accordingly crossed over to it by night, for the purpose of sacrificing to the heroes Periphêmus and Kychreus, on the Salaminian shore. Five hundred Athenian volunteers were then levied for the attack of the island, under the stipulation that if they were victorious they should hold it in property and citizenship.[160] They were safely landed on an outlying promontory, while Solon, having been fortunate enough to seize a ship which the Megarians had sent to watch the proceedings, manned it with Athenians, and sailed straight towards the city of Salamis, to which the five hundred Athenians who had landed also directed their march. The Megarians marched out from the city to repel the latter, and during the heat of the engagement, Solon, with his Megarian ship, and Athenian crew, sailed directly to the city: the Megarians, interpreting this as the return of their own crew, permitted the ship to approach without resistance, and the city was thus taken by surprise. Permission having been given to the Megarians to quit the island, Solon took possession of it for the Athenians, erecting a temple to Enyalius, the god of war, on Cape Skiradium, near the city of Salamis.[161]
The citizens of Megara, however, made various efforts for the recovery of so valuable a possession, so that a war ensued long as well as disastrous to both parties. At last, it was agreed between them to refer the dispute to the arbitration of Sparta, and five Spartans were appointed to decide it,—Kritolaidas, Amompharetus, Hypsêchidas, Anaxilas, and Kleomenês. The verdict in favor of Athens was founded on evidence which it is somewhat curious to trace. Both parties attempted to show that the dead bodies buried in the island conformed to their own peculiar mode of interment, and both parties are said to have cited verses from the catalogue of the Iliad,[162]—each accusing the other of error or interpolation. But the Athenians had the advantage on two points; first, there were oracles from Delphi, wherein Salamis was mentioned with the epithet Ionian; next, Philæus and Eurysakês, sons of the Telamonian Ajax, the great hero of the island, had accepted the citizenship of Athens, made over Salamis to the Athenians, and transferred their own residences to Braurôn and Melitê in Attica, where the deme or gens Philaidæ still worshipped Philæus as its eponymous ancestor. Such a title was held sufficient, and Salamis was adjudged by the five Spartans to Attica,[163] with which it ever afterwards remained incorporated until the days of Macedonian supremacy. Two centuries and a half later, when the orator Æschinês argued the Athenian right to Amphipolis against Philip of Macedon, the legendary elements of the title were indeed put forward, but more in the way of preface or introduction to the substantial political grounds.[164] But in the year 600 B. C., the authority of the legend was more deep-seated and operative, and adequate by itself to determine a favorable verdict.
In addition to the conquest of Salamis, Solon increased his reputation by espousing the cause of the Delphian temple against the extortionate proceedings of the inhabitants of Kirrha, of which more will be said in a coming chapter; and the favor of the oracle was probably not without its effect in procuring for him that encouraging prophecy with which his legislative career opened.
It is on the occasion of Solon’s legislation, that we obtain our first glimpse—unfortunately, but a glimpse—of the actual state of Attica and its inhabitants. It is a sad and repulsive picture, presenting to us political discord and private suffering combined.
Violent dissensions prevailed among the inhabitants of Attica, who were separated into three factions,—the pedieis, or men of the plain, comprising Athens, Eleusis, and the neighboring territory, among whom the greatest number of rich families were included; the mountaineers in the east and north of Attica, called diakrii, who were on the whole the poorest party; and the paralii in the southern portion of Attica, from sea to sea, whose means and social position were intermediate between the two.[165] Upon what particular points these intestine disputes turned we are not distinctly informed; they were not, however, peculiar to the period immediately preceding the archontate of Solon; they had prevailed before, and they reappear afterwards prior to the despotism of Peisistratus, the latter standing forward as the leader of the diakrii, and as champion, real or pretended, of the poorer population.
But in the time of Solon these intestine quarrels were aggravated by something much more difficult to deal with,—a general mutiny of the poorer population against the rich, resulting from misery combined with oppression. The thêtes, whose condition we have already contemplated in the poems of Homer and Hesiod, are now presented to us as forming the bulk of the population of Attica,—the cultivating tenants, metayers, and small proprietors of the country. They are exhibited as weighed down by debts and dependence, and driven in large numbers out of a state of freedom into slavery,—the whole mass of them, we are told, being in debt to the rich, who are proprietors of the greater part of the soil.[166] They had either borrowed money for their own necessities, or they tilled the lands of the rich as dependent tenants, paying a stipulated portion of the produce, and in this capacity they were largely in arrear.
All the calamitous effects were here seen of the old harsh law of debtor and creditor,—once prevalent in Greece, Italy, Asia, and a large portion of the world,—combined with the recognition of slavery as a legitimate status, and of the right of one man to sell himself as well as that of another man to buy him. Every debtor unable to fulfil his contract was liable to be adjudged as the slave of his creditor, until he could find means either of paying it or working it out; and not only he himself, but his minor sons and unmarried daughters and sisters also, whom the law gave him the power of selling.[167] The poor man thus borrowed upon the security of his body, to translate literally the Greek phrase, and upon that of the persons of his family; and so severely had these oppressive contracts been enforced, that many debtors had been reduced from freedom to slavery in Attica itself,—many others had been sold for exportation,—and some had only hitherto preserved their own freedom by selling their children. Moreover, a great number of the smaller properties in Attica were under mortgage, signified,—according to the formality usual in the Attic law, and continued down throughout the historical times,—by a stone pillar erected on the land, inscribed with the name of the lender and the amount of the loan. The proprietors of these mortgaged lands, in case of an unfavorable turn of events, had no other prospect except that of irremediable slavery for themselves and their families, either in their own native country, robbed of all its delights, or in some barbarian region where the Attic accent would never meet their ears. Some had fled the country to escape legal adjudication of their persons, and earned a miserable subsistence in foreign parts by degrading occupations: upon several, too, this deplorable lot had fallen by unjust condemnation and corrupt judges; the conduct of the rich, in regard to money sacred and profane, in regard to matters public as well as private, being thoroughly unprincipled and rapacious.
The manifold and long-continued suffering of the poor under this system, plunged into a state of debasement not more tolerable than that of the Gallic plebs,—and the injustices of the rich, in whom all political power was then vested, are facts well attested by the poems of Solon himself, even in the short fragments preserved to us:[168] and it appears that immediately preceding the time of his archonship, the evils had ripened to such a point,—and the determination of the mass of sufferers, to extort for themselves some mode of relief, had become so pronounced,—that the existing laws could no longer be enforced. According to the profound remark of Aristotle,—that seditions are generated by great causes but out of small incidents,[169]—we may conceive that some recent events had occurred as immediate stimulants to the outbreak of the debtors,—like those which lend so striking an interest to the early Roman annals, as the inflaming sparks of violent popular movements for which the train had long before been laid. Condemnations by the archons, of insolvent debtors, may have been unusually numerous, or the maltreatment of some particular debtor, once a respected freeman, in his condition of slavery, may have been brought to act vividly upon the public sympathies,—like the case of the old plebeian centurion at Rome,[170]—first impoverished by the plunder of the enemy, then reduced to borrow, and lastly adjudged to his creditor as an insolvent,—who claimed the protection of the people in the forum, rousing their feelings to the highest pitch by the marks of the slave-whip visible on his person. Some such incidents had probably happened, though we have no historians to recount them; moreover, it is not unreasonable to imagine, that that public mental affliction which the purifier Epimenidês had been invoked to appease, as it sprung in part from pestilence, so it had its cause partly in years of sterility, which must of course have aggravated the distress of the small cultivators. However this may be, such was the condition of things in 594 B. C., through mutiny of the poor freemen and thêtes, and uneasiness of the middling citizens, that the governing oligarchy, unable either to enforce their private debts or to maintain their political power, were obliged to invoke the well-known wisdom and integrity of Solon. Though his vigorous protest—which doubtless rendered him acceptable to the mass of the people—against the iniquity of the existing system had already been proclaimed in his poems, they still hoped that he would serve as an auxiliary, to help them over their difficulties, and they therefore chose him, nominally, as archon along with Philombrotus, but with power in substance dictatorial.
It had happened in several Grecian states, that the governing oligarchies, either by quarrels among their own members or by the general bad condition of the people under their government, were deprived of that hold upon the public mind which was essential to their power; and sometimes, as in the case of Pittakus of Mitylênê, anterior to the archonship of Solon, and often in the factions of the Italian republics in the Middle Ages, the collision of opposing forces had rendered society intolerable, and driven all parties to acquiesce in the choice of some reforming dictator. Usually, however, in the early Greek oligarchies, this ultimate crisis was anticipated by some ambitious individual, who availed himself of the public discontent, to overthrow the oligarchy, and usurp the powers of a despot; and so, probably, it might have happened in Athens, had not the recent failure of Kylôn, with all its miserable consequences, operated as a deterring motive. It is curious to read, in the words of Solon himself, the temper in which his appointment was construed by a large portion of the community, but most especially by his own friends: and we are to bear in mind that at this early day, so far as our knowledge goes, democratical government was a thing unknown in Greece,—all Grecian governments were either oligarchical or despotic, the mass of the freemen having not yet tasted of constitutional privilege. His own friends and supporters were the first to urge him, while redressing the prevalent discontents, to multiply partisans for himself personally, and seize the supreme power: they even “chid him as a madman, for declining to haul up the net when the fish were already enmeshed.”[171] The mass of the people, in despair with their lot, would gladly have seconded him in such an attempt, and many even among the oligarchy might have acquiesced in his personal government, from the mere apprehension of something worse, if they resisted it. That Solon might easily have made himself despot, admits of little doubt; and though the position of a Greek despot was always perilous, he would have had greater facility for maintaining himself in it than Peisistratus possessed after him; so that nothing but the combination of prudence and virtue which marks his lofty character, restricted him within the trust specially confided to him. To the surprise of every one,—to the dissatisfaction of his own friends,—under the complaints alike, as he says, of various extreme and dissentient parties, who required him to adopt measures fatal to the peace of society,[172]—he set himself honestly to solve the very difficult and critical problem submitted to him.
Of all grievances, the most urgent was the condition of the poorer class of debtors; and to their relief Solon’s first measure, the memorable seisachtheia, or shaking off of burdens, was directed. The relief which it afforded was complete and immediate. It cancelled at once all those contracts in which the debtor had borrowed on the security of either his person or of his land: it forbade all future loans or contracts in which the person of the debtor was pledged as security: it deprived the creditor in future of all power to imprison, or enslave, or extort work from his debtor, and confined him to an effective judgment at law, authorizing the seizure of the property of the latter. It swept off all the numerous mortgage pillars from the landed properties in Attica, and left the land free from all past claims. It liberated, and restored to their full rights, all those debtors who were actually in slavery under previous legal adjudication; and it even provided the means—we do not know how—of repurchasing in foreign lands, and bringing back to a renewed life of liberty in Attica, many insolvents who had been sold for exportation.[173] And while Solon forbade every Athenian to pledge or sell his own person into slavery, he took a step farther in the same direction, by forbidding him to pledge or sell his son, his daughter, or an unmarried sister under his tutelage,—excepting only the case in which either of the latter might be detected in unchastity.[174] Whether this last ordinance was contemporaneous with the seisachtheia, or followed as one of his subsequent reforms, seems doubtful.
By this extensive measure the poor debtors,—the thêtes, small tenants, and proprietors,—together with their families, were rescued from suffering and peril. But these were not the only debtors in the state: the creditors and landlords of the exonerated thêtes were doubtless in their turn debtors to others, and were less able to discharge their obligations in consequence of the loss inflicted upon them by the seisachtheia. It was to assist these wealthier debtors, whose bodies were in no danger,—yet without exonerating them entirely,—that Solon resorted to the additional expedient of debasing the money standard; he lowered the standard of the drachma in a proportion something more than twenty-five per cent., so that one hundred drachmas of the new standard contained no more silver than seventy-three of the old, or one hundred of the old were equivalent to one hundred and thirty-eight of the new. By this change, the creditors of these more substantial debtors were obliged to submit to a loss, while the debtors acquired an exemption, to the extent of about twenty-seven per cent.[175]
Lastly, Solon decreed that all those who had been condemned by the archons to atīmy (civil disfranchisement) should be restored to their full privileges of citizens,—excepting, however, from this indulgence those who had been condemned by the ephetæ, or by the areopagus, or by the phylo-basileis (the four kings of the tribes), after trial in the prytaneium, on charges either of murder or treason.[176] So wholesale a measure of amnesty affords strong grounds for believing that the previous judgments of the archons had been intolerably harsh; and it is to be recollected that the Drakonian ordinances were then in force.
Such were the measures of relief with which Solon met the dangerous discontent then prevalent. That the wealthy men and leaders of the people, whose insolence and iniquity he has himself so sharply denounced in his poems, and whose views in nominating him he had greatly disappointed,[177] should have detested propositions which robbed them without compensation of so many of their legal rites, it is easy to imagine. But the statement of Plutarch, that the poor emancipated debtors were also dissatisfied, from having expected that Solon would not only remit their debts, but also redivide the soil of Attica, seems utterly incredible; nor is it confirmed by any passage now remaining of the Solonian poems.[178] Plutarch conceives the poor debtors as having in their minds the comparison with Lykurgus, and the equality of property at Sparta, which, as I have already endeavored to show,[179] is a fiction; and even had it been true, as matter of history long past and antiquated, would not have been likely to work upon the minds of the multitude of Attica in the forcible way that the biographer supposes. The seisachtheia must have exasperated the feelings and diminished the fortunes of many persons; but it gave to the large body of thêtes and small proprietors all that they could possibly have hoped. And we are told that after a short interval it became eminently acceptable in the general public mind, and procured for Solon a great increase of popularity,—all ranks concurring in a common sacrifice of thanksgiving and harmony.[180] One incident there was which occasioned an outcry of indignation. Three rich friends of Solon, all men of great family in the state, and bearing names which will hereafter reappear in this history as borne by their descendants,—Konôn, Kleinias, and Hipponikus,—having obtained from Solon some previous hint of his designs, profited by it, first, to borrow money, and next, to make purchases of lands; and this selfish breach of confidence would have disgraced Solon himself, had it not been found that he was personally a great loser, having lent money to the extent of five talents. We should have been glad to learn what authority Plutarch had for this anecdote, which could hardly have been recorded in Solon’s own poems.[181]
In regard to the whole measure of the seisachtheia, indeed, though the poems of Solon were open to every one, ancient authors gave different statements, both of its purport and of its extent. Most of them construed it as having cancelled indiscriminately all money contracts; while Androtion, and others, thought that it did nothing more than lower the rate of interest and depreciate the currency to the extent of twenty-seven per cent., leaving the letter of the contracts unchanged. How Androtion came to maintain such an opinion we cannot easily understand, for the fragments now remaining from Solon seem distinctly to refute it, though, on the other hand, they do not go so far as to substantiate the full extent of the opposite view entertained by many writers,—that all money contracts indiscriminately were rescinded:[182] against which there is also a farther reason, that, if the fact had been so, Solon could have had no motive to debase the money standard. Such debasement supposes that there must have been some debtors, at least, whose contracts remained valid, and whom, nevertheless, he desired partially to assist. His poems distinctly mention three things: 1. The removal of the mortgage pillars. 2. The enfranchisement of the land. 3. The protection, liberation, and restoration of the persons of endangered or enslaved debtors. All these expressions point distinctly to the thêtes and small proprietors, whose sufferings and peril were the most urgent, and whose case required a remedy immediate as well as complete: we find that his repudiation of debts was carried far enough to exonerate them, but no farther.
It seems to have been the respect entertained for the character of Solon which partly occasioned these various misconceptions of his ordinances for the relief of debtors: Androtion in ancient, and some eminent critics in modern times, are anxious to make out that he gave relief without loss or injustice to any one. But this opinion is altogether inadmissible: the loss to creditors, by the wholesale abrogation of numerous prëexisting contracts, and by the partial depreciation of the coin, is a fact not to be disguised. The seisachtheia of Solon, unjust so far as it rescinded previous agreements, but highly salutary in its consequences, is to be vindicated by showing that in no other way could the bonds of government have been held together, or the misery of the multitude alleviated. We are to consider, first, the great personal cruelty of these preëxisting contracts, which condemned the body of the free debtor and his family to slavery; next, the profound detestation created by such a system in the large mass of the poor, against both the judges and the creditors by whom it had been enforced, which rendered their feelings unmanageable, so soon as they came together under the sentiment of a common danger, and with the determination to insure to each other mutual protection. Moreover, the law which vests a creditor with power over the person of his debtor, so as to convert him into a slave, is likely to give rise to a class of loans, which inspire nothing but abhorrence,—money lent with the foreknowledge that the borrower will be unable to repay it, but also in the conviction that the value of his person as a slave will make good the loss; thus reducing him to a condition of extreme misery, for the purpose sometimes of aggrandizing, sometimes of enriching, the lender. Now the foundation on which the respect for contracts rests, under a good law of debtor and creditor, is the very reverse of this; it rests on the firm conviction that such contracts are advantageous to both parties as a class, and that to break up the confidence essential to their existence would produce extensive mischief throughout all society. The man whose reverence for the obligation of a contract is now the most profound, would have entertained a very different sentiment if he had witnessed the dealings of lender and borrower at Athens, under the old ante-Solonian law. The oligarchy had tried their best to enforce this law of debtor and creditor, with its disastrous series of contracts, and the only reason why they consented to invoke the aid of Solon, was because they had lost the power of enforcing it any longer, in consequence of the newly awakened courage and combination of the people. That which they could not do for themselves, Solon could not have done for them, even had he been willing; nor had he in his possession the means either of exempting or compensating those creditors, who, separately taken, were open to no reproach; indeed, in following his proceedings, we see plainly that he thought compensation due, not to the creditors, but to the past sufferings of the enslaved debtors, since he redeemed several of them from foreign captivity, and brought them back to their home. It is certain that no measure, simply and exclusively prospective, would have sufficed for the emergency: there was an absolute necessity for overruling all that class of preëxisting rights which had produced so violent a social fever. While therefore, to this extent, the seisachtheia cannot be acquitted of injustice, we may confidently affirm that the injustice inflicted was an indispensable price, paid for the maintenance of the peace of society, and for the final abrogation of a disastrous system as regarded insolvents.[183] And the feeling as well as the legislation universal in the modern European world, by interdicting beforehand all contracts for selling a man’s person or that of his children into slavery, goes far to sanction practically the Solonian repudiation.
One thing is never to be forgotten in regard to this measure, combined with the concurrent amendments introduced by Solon in the law,—it settled finally the question to which it referred. Never again do we hear of the law of debtor and creditor as disturbing Athenian tranquillity. The general sentiment which grew up at Athens, under the Solonian money-law, and under the democratical government, was one of high respect for the sanctity of contracts. Not only was there never any demand in the Athenian democracy for new tables or a depreciation of the money standard, but a formal abnegation of any such projects was inserted in the solemn oath taken annually by the numerous diakasts, who formed the popular judicial body, called hêliæa, or the hêliastic jurors,—the same oath which pledged them to uphold the democratical constitution, also bound them to repudiate all proposals either for an abrogation of debts or for a redivision of the lands.[184] There can be little doubt that under the Solonian law, which enabled the creditor to seize the property of his debtor, but gave him no power over the person, the system of money-lending assumed a more beneficial character: the old noxious contracts, mere snares for the liberty of a poor freeman and his children, disappeared, and loans of money took their place, founded on the property and prospective earnings of the debtor, which were in the main useful to both parties, and therefore maintained their place in the moral sentiment of the public. And though Solon had found himself compelled to rescind all the mortgages on land subsisting in his time, we see money freely lent upon this same security, throughout the historical times of Athens, and the evidentiary mortgage pillars remaining ever after undisturbed.
In the sentiment of an early society, as in the old Roman law, a distinction is commonly made between the principal and the interest of a loan, though the creditors have sought to blend them indissolubly together. If the borrower cannot fulfil his promise to repay the principal, the public will regard him as having committed a wrong which he must make good by his person; but there is not the same unanimity as to his promise to pay interest: on the contrary, the very exaction of interest will be regarded by many in the same light in which the English law considers usurious interest, as tainting the whole transaction. But in the modern mind, principal, and interest within a limited rate, have so grown together, that we hardly understand how it can ever have been pronounced unworthy of an honorable citizen to lend money on interest; yet such is the declared opinion of Aristotle, and other superior men of antiquity; while the Roman Cato, the censor, went so far as to denounce the practice as a heinous crime.[185] It was comprehended by them among the worst of the tricks of trade,—and they held that all trade, or profit derived from interchange, was unnatural, as being made by one man at the expense of another: such pursuits, therefore, could not be commended, though they might be tolerated to a certain extent as matter of necessity, but they belonged essentially to an inferior order of citizens.[186] What is remarkable in Greece is, that the antipathy of a very early state of society against traders and money-lenders lasted longer among the philosophers than among the mass of the people,—it harmonized more with the social idéal of the former, than with the practical instincts of the latter.
In a rude condition, such as that of the ancient Germans described by Tacitus, loans on interest are unknown: habitually careless of the future, the Germans were gratified both in giving and receiving presents, but without any idea that they thereby either imposed or contracted an obligation.[187] To a people in this state of feeling, a loan on interest presents the repulsive idea of making profit out of the distress of the borrower; moreover, it is worthy of remark, that the first borrowers must have been for the most part men driven to this necessity by the pressure of want, and contracting debt as a desperate resource, without any fair prospect of ability to repay: debt and famine run together, in the mind of the poet Hesiod.[188] The borrower is, in this unhappy state, rather a distressed man soliciting aid, than a solvent man capable of making and fulfilling a contract; and if he cannot find a friend to make him a free gift in the former character, he will not, under the latter character, obtain a loan from a stranger, except by the promise of exorbitant interest,[189] and by the fullest eventual power over his person which he is in a condition to grant. In process of time a new class of borrowers rise up, who demand money for temporary convenience or profit, but with full prospect of repayment,—a relation of lender and borrower quite different from that of the earlier period, when it presented itself in the repulsive form of misery on the one side, set against the prospect of very large profit on the other. If the Germans of the time of Tacitus had looked to the condition of the poor debtors in Gaul, reduced to servitude under a rich creditor, and swelling by hundreds the crowd of his attendants, they would not have been disposed to regret their own ignorance of the practice of money-lending.[190] How much the interest of money was then regarded as an undue profit extorted from distress, is powerfully illustrated by the old Jewish law; the Jew being permitted to take interest from foreigners (whom the lawgiver did not think himself obliged to protect), but not from his own countrymen.[191] The Koran follows out this point of view consistently, and prohibits the taking of interest altogether. In most other nations, laws have been made to limit the rate of interest, and at Rome, especially, the legal rate was successively lowered,—though it seems, as might have been expected, that the restrictive ordinances were constantly eluded. All such restrictions have been intended for the protection of debtors; an effect which large experience proves them never to produce, unless it be called protection to render the obtaining of money on loan impracticable for the most distressed borrowers. But there was another effect which they did tend to produce,—they softened down the primitive antipathy against the practice generally, and confined the odious name of usury to loans lent above the fixed legal rate.
In this way alone could they operate beneficially, and their tendency to counterwork the previous feeling was at that time not unimportant, coinciding as it did with other tendencies arising out of the industrial progress of society, which gradually exhibited the relation of lender and borrower in a light more reciprocally beneficial, and less repugnant to the sympathies of the bystander.[192]
At Athens, the more favorable point of view prevailed throughout all the historical times,—the march of industry and commerce, under the mitigated law which prevailed subsequently to Solon, had been sufficient to bring it about at a very early period, and to suppress all public antipathy against lenders at interest.[193] We may remark, too, that this more equitable tone of opinion grew up spontaneously, without any legal restriction on the rate of interest,—no such restriction having ever been imposed, and the rate being expressly declared free by a law ascribed to Solon himself.[194] The same may probably be said of the communities of Greece generally,—at least there is no information to make us suppose the contrary. But the feeling against lending money at interest remained in the bosoms of the philosophical men long after it had ceased to form a part of the practical morality of the citizens, and long after it had ceased to be justified by the appearances of the case as at first it really had been. Plato, Aristotle, Cicero,[195] and Plutarch, treat the practice as a branch of that commercial and money-getting spirit which they are anxious to discourage; and one consequence of this was, that they were less disposed to contend strenuously for the inviolability of existing money-contracts. The conservative feeling on this point was stronger among the mass than among the philosophers. Plato even complains of it as inconveniently preponderant,[196] and as arresting the legislator in all comprehensive projects of reform. For the most part, indeed, schemes of cancelling debts and redividing lands were never thought of except by men of desperate and selfish ambition, who made them stepping-stones to despotic power. Such men were denounced alike by the practical sense of the community and by the speculative thinkers; but when we turn to the case of the Spartan king Agis the Third, who proposed a complete extinction of debts and an equal redivision of the landed property of the state, not with any selfish or personal views, but upon pure ideas of patriotism, well or ill understood, and for the purpose of renovating the lost ascendency of Sparta,—we find Plutarch[197] expressing the most unqualified admiration of this young king and his projects, and treating the opposition made to him as originating in no better feelings than meanness and cupidity. The philosophical thinkers on politics conceived—and to a great degree justly, as I shall show hereafter—that the conditions of security, in the ancient world, imposed upon the citizens generally the absolute necessity of keeping up a military spirit and willingness to brave at all times personal hardship and discomfort; so that increase of wealth, on account of the habits of self-indulgence which it commonly introduces, was regarded by them with more or less of disfavor. If in their estimation any Grecian community had become corrupt, they were willing to sanction great interference with preëxisting rights for the purpose of bringing it back nearer to their ideal standard: and the real security for the maintenance of these rights lay in the conservative feelings of the citizens generally, much more than in the opinions which superior minds imbibe from the philosophers.
Those conservative feelings were in the subsequent Athenian democracy peculiarly deep-rooted: the mass of the Athenian people identified inseparably the maintenance of property, in all its various shapes, with that of their laws and constitution. And it is a remarkable fact, that though the admiration entertained at Athens for Solon, was universal, the principle of his seisachtheia, and of his money-depreciation, was not only never imitated, but found the strongest tacit reprobation; whereas at Rome, as well as in most of the kingdoms of modern Europe, we know that one debasement of the coin succeeded another,—the temptation, of thus partially eluding the pressure of financial embarrassments, proved, after one successful trial, too strong to be resisted, and brought down the coin by successive depreciations from the full pound of twelve ounces to the standard of half an ounce. It is of some importance to take notice of this fact, when we reflect how much “Grecian faith” has been degraded by the Roman writers into a byword for duplicity in pecuniary dealings.[198] The democracy of Athens,—and, indeed, the cities of Greece generally, both oligarchies and democracies,—stands far above the senate of Rome, and far above the modern kingdoms of France and England, until comparatively recent times, in respect of honest dealing with the coinage:[199] moreover, while there occurred at Rome several political changes which brought about new tables,[200] or at least a partial depreciation of contracts, no phenomenon of the same kind ever happened at Athens, during the three centuries between Solon and the end of the free working of the democracy. Doubtless there were fraudulent debtors at Athens, and the administration of private law, though it did not in any way connive at their proceedings, was far too imperfect to repress them as effectually as might have been wished. But the public sentiment on the point was just and decided, and it may be asserted with confidence, that a loan of money at Athens was quite as secure as it ever was at any time or place of the ancient world,—in spite of the great and important superiority of Rome with respect to the accumulation of a body of authoritative legal precedent, the source of what was ultimately shaped into the Roman jurisprudence. Among the various causes of sedition or mischief in the Grecian communities,[201] we hear little of the pressure of private debt.
By the measures of relief above described,[202] Solon had accomplished results surpassing his own best hopes. He had healed the prevailing discontents; and such was the confidence and gratitude which he had inspired, that he was now called upon to draw up a constitution and laws for the better working of the government in future. His constitutional changes were great and valuable: respecting his laws, what we hear is rather curious than important.
It has been already stated that, down to the time of Solon, the classification received in Attica was that of the four Ionic tribes, comprising in one scale the phratries and gentes, and in another scale the three trittyes and forty-eight naukraries,—while the eupatridæ, seemingly a few specially respected gentes, and perhaps a few distinguished families in all the gentes, had in their hands all the powers of government. Solon introduced a new principle of classification, called, in Greek, the timocratic principle. He distributed all the citizens of the tribes, without any reference to their gentes or phratries, into four classes, according to the amount of their property, which he caused to be assessed and entered in a public schedule. Those whose annual income was equal to five hundred medimni of corn (about seven hundred imperial bushels) and upwards,—one medimnus being considered equivalent to one drachma in money,—he placed in the highest class; those who received between three hundred and five hundred medimni, or drachms, formed the second class; and those between two hundred and three hundred, the third.[203] The fourth and most numerous class comprised all those who did not possess land yielding a produce equal to two hundred medimni. The first class, called pentakosiomedimni, were alone eligible to the archonship and to all commands: the second were called the knights or horsemen of the state, as possessing enough to enable them to keep a horse and perform military service in that capacity: the third class, called the zeugitæ, formed the heavy-armed infantry, and were bound to serve, each with his full panoply. Each of these three classes was entered in the public schedule as possessed of a taxable capital, calculated with a certain reference to his annual income, but in a proportion diminishing according to the scale of that income,—and a man paid taxes to the state according to the sum for which he stood rated in the schedule; so that this direct taxation acted really like a graduated income-tax. The ratable property of the citizens belonging to the richest class, the pentakosiomedimnus, was calculated and entered on the state-schedule at a sum of capital equal to twelve times his annual income: that of the hippeus, or knight, at a sum equal to ten times his annual income: that of the zeugite, at a sum equal to five times his annual income. Thus a pentakosiomedimnus, whose income was exactly five hundred drachms, the minimum qualification of his class, stood rated in the schedule for a taxable property of six thousand drachms, or one talent, being twelve times his income,—if his annual income were one thousand drachms, he would stand rated for twelve thousand drachms, or two talents, being the same proportion of income to ratable capital. But when we pass to the second class, or knights, the proportion of the two is changed,—the knight possessing an income of just three hundred drachms, or three hundred medimni, would stand rated for three thousand drachms, or ten times his real income, and so in the same proportion for any income above three hundred and below five hundred. Again, in the third class. or below three hundred, the proportion is a second time altered,—the zeugite possessing exactly two hundred drachms of income, was rated upon a still lower calculation, at one thousand drachms, or a sum equal to five times his income; and all incomes of this class, between two hundred and three hundred drachms, would in like manner be multiplied by five in order to obtain the amount of ratable capital. Upon these respective sums of scheduled capital, all direct taxation was levied: if the state required one per cent, of direct tax, the poorest pentakosiomedimnus would pay (upon six thousand drachms) sixty drachms; the poorest hippeus would pay (upon three thousand drachms) thirty; the poorest zeugite would pay (upon one thousand drachms) ten drachms. And thus this mode of assessment would operate like a graduated income-tax, looking at it in reference to the three different classes,—but as an equal income-tax, looking at it in reference to the different individuals comprised in one and the same class.[204]
All persons in the state whose annual income amounted to less than two hundred medimni, or drachms, were placed in the fourth class, and they must have constituted the large majority of the community. They were not liable to any direct taxation, and, perhaps, were not at first even entered upon the taxable schedule, more especially as we do not know that any taxes were actually levied upon this schedule during the Solonian times. It is said that they were all called thêtes, but this appellation is not well sustained, and cannot be admitted: the fourth compartment in the descending scale was indeed termed the thetic census, because it contained all the thêtes, and because most of its members were of that humble description; but it is not conceivable that a proprietor whose land yielded to him a clear annual return of one hundred, one hundred and twenty, one hundred and forty, or one hundred and eighty drachms, could ever have been designated by that name.[205]
Such were the divisions in the political scale established by Solon, called by Aristotle a timocracy, in which the rights, honors, functions, and liabilities of the citizens were measured out according to the assessed property of each. Though the scale is stated as if nothing but landed property were measured by it, yet we may rather presume that property of other kinds was intended to be included, since it served as the basis of every man’s liability to taxation. The highest honors of the state,—that is, the places of the nine archons annually chosen, as well as those in the senate of areopagus, into which the past archons always entered,—perhaps also the posts of prytanes of the naukrari,—were reserved for the first class: the poor eupatrids became ineligible; while rich men, not eupatrids, were admitted. Other posts of inferior distinction were filled by the second and third classes, who were, moreover, bound to military service, the one on horseback, the other as heavy-armed soldiers on foot. Moreover, the liturgies of the state, as they were called,—unpaid functions, such as the trierarchy, chorêgy, gymnasiarchy, etc., which entailed expense and trouble on the holder of them,—were distributed in some way or other between the members of the three classes, though we do not know how the distribution was made in these early times. On the other hand, the members of the fourth or lowest class were disqualified from holding any individual office of dignity,—performed no liturgies, served in case of war only as light-armed, or with a panoply provided by the state, and paid nothing to the direct property-tax, or eisphora. It would be incorrect to say that they paid no taxes; for indirect taxes, such as duties on imports, fell upon them in common with the rest; and we must recollect that these latter were, throughout a long period of Athenian history, in steady operation, while the direct taxes were only levied on rare occasions.
But though this fourth class, constituting the great numerical majority of the free people, were shut out from individual office, their collective importance was in another way greatly increased. They were invested with the right of choosing the annual archons, out of the class of pentakosiomedimni; and what was of more importance still, the archons and the magistrates generally, after their year of office, instead of being accountable to the senate of areopagus, were made formally accountable to the public assembly sitting in judgment upon their past conduct. They might be impeached and called upon to defend themselves, punished in case of misbehavior, and debarred from the usual honor of a seat in the senate of areopagus.
Had the public assembly been called upon to act alone, without aid or guidance, this accountability would have proved only nominal. But Solon converted it into a reality by another new institution, which will hereafter be found of great moment in the working out of the Athenian democracy. He created the pro-bouleutic or pre-considering senate, with intimate and especial reference to the public assembly,—to prepare matters for its discussion, to convoke and superintend its meetings, and to insure the execution of its decrees. This senate, as first constituted by Solon, comprised four hundred members, taken in equal proportions from the four tribes,—not chosen by lot, as they will be found to be in the more advanced stage of the democracy, but elected by the people, in the same way as the archons then were,—persons of the fourth or poorest class of the census, though contributing to elect, not being themselves eligible.
But while Solon thus created the new pre-considering senate, identified with and subsidiary to the popular assembly, he manifested no jealousy of the preëxisting areopagitic senate: on the contrary, he enlarged its powers, gave to it an ample supervision over the execution of the laws generally, and imposed upon it the censorial duty of inspecting the lives and occupations of the citizens, as well as of punishing men of idle and dissolute habits. He was himself, as past archon, a member of this ancient senate, and he is said to have contemplated that, by means of the two senates, the state would be held fast, as it were with a double anchor, against all shocks and storms.[206]
Such are the only new political institutions, apart from the laws to be noticed presently, which there are grounds for ascribing to Solon, when we take proper care to discriminate what really belongs to Solon and his age, from the Athenian constitution as afterwards remodelled. It has been a practice common with many able expositors of Grecian affairs, and followed partly, even by Dr. Thirlwall,[207] to connect the name of Solon with the whole political and judicial state of Athens as it stood between the age of Periklês and that of Dêmosthenês,—the regulations of the senate of five hundred, the numerous public dikasts or jurors taken by lot from the people, as well as the body annually selected for law-revision, and called nomothets, and the prosecution, called the graphê paranomôn, open to be instituted against the proposer of any measure illegal, unconstitutional, or dangerous. There is, indeed, some countenance for this confusion between Solonian and post-Solonian Athens, in the usage of the orators themselves; for Dêmosthenês and Æschinês employ the name of Solon in a very loose manner, and treat him as the author of institutions belonging evidently to a later age for example, the striking and characteristic oath of the heliastic jurors, which Demosthenês[208] ascribes to Solon, proclaims itself in many ways as belonging to the age after Kleisthenês, especially by the mention of the senate of five hundred, and not of four hundred. Among the citizens who served as jurors or dikasts, Solon was venerated generally as the author of the Athenian laws; and the orator, therefore, might well employ his name for the purpose of emphasis, without provoking any critical inquiry whether the particular institution, which he happened to be then impressing upon his audience, belonged really to Solon himself or to the subsequent periods. Many of those institutions, which Dr. Thirlwall mentions in conjunction with the name of Solon, are among the last refinements and elaborations of the democratical mind of Athens,—gradually prepared, doubtless, during the interval between Kleisthenês and Periklês, but not brought into full operation until the period of the latter (460-429 B. C.); for it is hardly possible to conceive these numerous dikasteries and assemblies in regular, frequent, and long-standing operation, without an assured payment to the dikasts who composed them. Now such payment first began to be made about the time of Periklês, if not by his actual proposition;[209] and Dêmosthenês had good reason for contending that, if it were suspended, the judicial as well as the administrative system of Athens would at once fall to pieces.[210] And it would be a marvel, such as nothing short of strong direct evidence would justify us in believing, that in an age when even partial democracy was yet untried, Solon should conceive the idea of such institutions: it would be a marvel still greater, that the half-emancipated thêtes and small proprietors, for whom he legislated,—yet trembling under the rod of the eupatrid archons, and utterly inexperienced in collective business,—should have been found suddenly competent to fulfil these ascendent functions, such as the citizens of conquering Athens in the days of Periklês,—full of the sentiment of force and actively identifying themselves with the dignity of their community,—became gradually competent, and not more than competent, to exercise with effect. To suppose that Solon contemplated and provided for the periodical revision of his laws by establishing a nomothetic jury, or dikastery, such as that which we find in operation during the time of Dêmosthenês, would be at variance, in my judgment, with any reasonable estimate either of the man or of the age. Herodotus says that Solon, having exacted from the Athenians solemn oaths that they would not rescind any of his laws for ten years, quitted Athens for that period, in order that he might not be compelled to rescind them himself: Plutarch informs us that he gave to his laws force for a century absolute.[211] Solon himself, and Drako before him, had been lawgivers, evoked and empowered by the special emergency of the times; the idea of a frequent revision of laws, by a body of lot-selected dikasts, belongs to a far more advanced age, and could not well have been present to the minds of either. The wooden rollers of Solon, like the tables of the Roman decemvirs,[212] were doubtless intended as a permanent “fons omnis publici privatique juris.”
If we examine the facts of the case, we shall see that nothing more than the bare foundation of the democracy of Athens as it stood in the time of Periklês, can reasonably be ascribed to Solon. “I gave to the people,” Solon says, in one of his short remaining fragments,[213] “as much strength as sufficed for their needs, without either enlarging or diminishing their dignity: for those too who possessed power and were noted for wealth, I took care that no unworthy treatment should be reserved. I stood with the strong shield cast over both parties, so as not to allow an unjust triumph to either.” Again, Aristotle tells us that Solon bestowed upon the people no greater measure of power than was barely necessary,[214]—to elect their magistrates and to hold them to accountability: if the people had had less than this, they could not have been expected to remain tranquil,—they would have been in slavery and hostile to the constitution. Not less distinctly does Herodotus speak, when he describes the revolution subsequently operated by Kleisthenês—the latter, he tells us, found “the Athenian people excluded from everything.”[215] These passages seem positively to contradict the supposition, in itself sufficiently improbable, that Solon is the author of the peculiar democratical institutions of Athens, such as the constant and numerous dikasts for judicial trials and revision of laws. The genuine and forward democratical movement of Athens begins only with Kleisthenês, from the moment when that distinguished Alkmæônid, either spontaneously, or from finding himself worsted in his party strife with Isagoras, purchased by large popular concessions the hearty coöperation of the multitude under very dangerous circumstances. While Solon, in his own statement as well as in that of Aristotle, gave to the people as much power as was strictly needful, but no more,—Kleisthenês (to use the significant phrase of Herodotus), “being vanquished in the party contest with his rival, took the people into partnership.”[216] It was thus to the interests of the weaker section, in a strife of contending nobles, that the Athenian people owed their first admission to political ascendency,—in part, at least, to this cause, though the proceedings of Kleisthenês indicate a hearty and spontaneous popular sentiment. But such constitutional admission of the people would not have been so astonishingly fruitful in positive results, if the course of public events for the half-century after Kleisthenês had not been such as to stimulate most powerfully their energy, their self-reliance, their mutual sympathies, and their ambition. I shall recount in a future chapter those historical causes, which, acting upon the Athenian character, gave such efficiency and expansion to the great democratical impulse communicated by Kleisthenês: at present, it is enough to remark that that impulse commences properly with Kleisthenês, and not with Solon.
But the Solonian constitution, though only the foundation, was yet the indispensable foundation, of the subsequent democracy; and if the discontents of the miserable Athenian population, instead of experiencing his disinterested and healing management, had fallen at once into the hands of selfish power-seekers, like Kylôn or Peisistratus, the memorable expansion of the Athenian mind during the ensuing century would never have taken place, and the whole subsequent history of Greece would probably have taken a different course. Solon left the essential powers of the state still in the hands of the oligarchy, and the party combats—to be recounted hereafter—between Peisistratus, Lykurgus, and Megaklês, thirty years after his legislation, which ended in the despotism of Peisistratus, will appear to be of the same purely oligarchical character as they had been before he was appointed archon. But the oligarchy which he established was very different from the unmitigated oligarchy which he found, so teeming with oppression and so destitute of redress, as his own poems testify.
It was he who first gave both to the citizens of middling property and to the general mass, a locus standi against the eupatrids; he enabled the people partially to protect themselves, and familiarized them with the idea of protecting themselves, by the peaceful exercise of a constitutional franchise. The new force, through which this protection was carried into effect, was the public assembly called heliæa,[217] regularized and armed with enlarged prerogatives, and farther strengthened by its indispensable ally,—the pro-bouleutic or pre-considering senate. Under the Solonian constitution, this force was merely secondary and defensive, but after the renovation of Kleisthenês, it became paramount and sovereign; it branched out gradually into those numerous popular dikasteries which so powerfully modified both public and private Athenian life, drew to itself the undivided reverence and submission of the people, and by degrees rendered the single magistracies essentially subordinate functions. The popular assembly as constituted by Solon, appearing in modified efficiency, and trained to the office of reviewing and judging the general conduct of a past magistrate,—forms the intermediate stage between the passive Homeric agora, and those omnipotent assemblies and dikasteries which listened to Periklês or Dêmosthenês. Compared with these last, it has in it but a faint streak of democracy,—and so it naturally appeared to Aristotle, who wrote with a practical experience of Athens in the time of the orators; but compared with the first, or with the ante-Solonian constitution of Attica, it must doubtless have appeared a concession eminently democratical. To impose upon the eupatrid archon the necessity of being elected, or put upon his trial of after-accountability, by the rabble of freemen (such would be the phrase in eupatrid society), would be a bitter humiliation to those among whom it was first introduced; for we must recollect that this was the most extensive scheme of constitutional reform yet propounded in Greece, and that despots and oligarchies shared between them at that time the whole Grecian world. As it appears that Solon, while constituting the popular assembly with its pro-bouleutic senate, had no jealousy of the senate of areopagus, and indeed even enlarged its powers,—we may infer that his grand object was, not to weaken the oligarchy generally, but to improve the administration and to repress the misconduct and irregularities of the individual archons; and that too, not by diminishing their powers, but by making some degree of popularity the condition both of their entry into office, and of their safety or honor after it.
It is, in my judgment, a mistake to suppose that Solon transferred the judicial power of the archons to a popular dikastery; these magistrates still continued self-acting judges, deciding and condemning without appeal,—not mere presidents of an assembled jury, as they afterwards came to be during the next century.[218] For the general exercise of such power they were accountable after their year of office; and this accountability was the security against abuse,—a very insufficient security, yet not wholly inoperative. It will be seen, however, presently, that these archons, though strong to coerce, and perhaps to oppress, small and poor men,—had no means of keeping down rebellious nobles of their own rank, such as Peisistratus, Lykurgus, and Megaklês, each with his armed followers. When we compare the drawn swords of these ambitious competitors, ending in the despotism of one of them, with the vehement parliamentary strife between Themistoklês and Aristeidês afterwards, peaceably decided by the vote of the sovereign people, and never disturbing the public tranquillity,—we shall see that the democracy of the ensuing century fulfilled the conditions of order, as well as of progress, better than the Solonian constitution.
To distinguish this Solonian constitution from the democracy which followed it, is essential to a due comprehension of the progress of the Greek mind, and especially of Athenian affairs. That democracy was achieved by gradual steps, which will be hereafter described: Dêmosthenês and Æschinês lived under it as a system consummated and in full activity, when the stages of its previous growth were no longer matter of exact memory; and the dikasts then assembled in judgment were pleased to hear the constitution to which they were attached identified with the names either of Solon, or of Theseus, to which they were no less partial. Their inquisitive contemporary Aristotle was not thus misled: but even the most common-place Athenians of the century preceding would have escaped the same delusion. For during the whole course of the democratical movement from the Persian invasion down to the Peloponnesian war, and especially during the changes proposed by Periklês and Ephialtês, there was always a strenuous party of resistance, who would not suffer the people to forget that they had already forsaken, and were on the point of forsaking still more, the orbit marked out by Solon. The illustrious Periklês underwent innumerable attacks both from the orators in the assembly and from the comic writers in the theatre; and among these sarcasms on the political tendencies of the day, we are probably to number the complaint breathed by the poet Kratinus, of the desuetude into which both Solon and Drako had fallen. “I swear,[219] said he, in a fragment of one of his comedies, by Solon and Drako, whose wooden tablets (of laws) are now employed by people to roast their barley.” The laws of Solon respecting penal offences, respecting inheritance and adoption, respecting the private relations generally, etc., remained for the most part in force; his quadripartite census also continued, at least for financial purposes until the archonship of Nausinikus in 377 B. C.; so that Cicero and others might be warranted in affirming that his laws still prevailed at Athens: but his political and judicial arrangements had undergone a revolution[220] not less complete and memorable than the character and spirit of the Athenian people generally. The choice, by way of lot, of archons and other magistrates, and the distribution by lot of the general body of dikasts or jurors into pannels for judicial business, may be decidedly considered as not belonging to Solon, but adopted after the revolution of Kleisthenês;[221] probably, the choice of senators by lot also. The lot was a symptom of pronounced democratical spirit, such as we must not seek in the Solonian institutions.
It is not easy to make out distinctly what was the political position of the ancient gentes and phratries, as Solon left them. The four tribes consisted altogether of gentes and phratries, insomuch that no one could be included in any one of the tribes who was not also a member of some gens and phratry. Now the new pro-bouleutic or pre-considerate senate consisted of four hundred members,—one hundred from each of the tribes: persons not included in any gens or phratry could therefore have had no access to it. The conditions of eligibility were similar, according to ancient custom, for the nine archons,—of course, also, for the senate of areopagus. So that there remained only the public assembly, in which an Athenian not a member of these tribes could take part: yet he was a citizen, since he could give his vote for archons and senators, and could take part in the annual decision of their accountability, besides being entitled to claim redress for wrong from the archons in his own person,—while the alien could only do so through the intervention of an avouching citizen, or prostatês. It seems, therefore, that all persons not included in the four tribes, whatever their grade of fortune might be, were on the same level in respect to political privilege as the fourth and poorest class of the Solonian census. It has already been remarked that, even before the time of Solon, the number of Athenians not included in the gentes or phratries was probably considerable: it tended to become greater and greater, since these bodies were close and unexpansive, while the policy of the new lawgiver tended to invite industrious settlers from other parts of Greece to Athens. Such great and increasing inequality of political privilege helps to explain the weakness of the government in repelling the aggressions of Peisistratus, and exhibits the importance of the revolution afterwards wrought by Kleisthenês, when he abolished (for all political purposes) the four old tribes, and created ten new comprehensive tribes in place of them.
In regard to the regulations of the senate and the assembly of the people, as constituted by Solon, we are altogether without information: nor is it safe to transfer to the Solonian constitution the information, comparatively ample, which we possess respecting these bodies under the later democracy.
The laws of Solon were inscribed on wooden rollers and triangular tablets, in the species of writing called boustrophêdon (lines alternating first from left to right, and next from right to left, like the course of the ploughman), and preserved first in the acropolis, subsequently in the prytaneium. On the tablets, called kyrbeis, were chiefly commemorated the laws respecting sacred rites and sacrifices:[222] on the pillars, or rollers, of which there were at least sixteen, were placed the regulations respecting matters profane. So small are the fragments which have come down to us, and so much has been ascribed to Solon by the orators, which belongs really to the subsequent times, that it is hardly possible to form any critical judgment respecting the legislation as a whole, or to discover by what general principles or purposes he was guided.
He left unchanged all the previous laws and practices respecting the crime of homicide, connected as they were intimately with the religious feelings of the people. The laws of Drako on this subject therefore remained, but on other subjects, according to Plutarch, they were altogether abrogated:[223] there is, however, room for supposing, that the repeal cannot have been so sweeping as this biographer represents.
The Solonian laws seem to have borne more or less upon all the great departments of human interest and duty. We find regulations political and religious, public and private, civil and criminal, commercial, agricultural, sumptuary, and disciplinarian. Solon provides punishment for crimes, restricts the profession and status of the citizen, prescribes detailed rules for marriage as well as for burial, for the common use of springs and wells, and for the mutual interest of conterminous farmers in planting or hedging their properties. As far as we can judge, from the imperfect manner in which his laws come before us, there does not seem to have been any attempt at a systematic order or classification. Some of them are mere general and vague directions, while others again run into the extreme of speciality.
By far the most important of all was the amendment of the law of debtor and creditor which has already been adverted to, and the abolition of the power of fathers and brothers to sell their daughters and sisters into slavery. The prohibition of all contracts on the security of the body, was itself sufficient to produce a vast improvement in the character and condition of the poorer population,—a result which seems to have been so sensibly obtained from the legislation of Solon, that Boeckh and some other eminent authors suppose him to have abolished villenage and conferred upon the poor tenants a property in their lands, annulling the seignorial rights of the landlord. But this opinion rests upon no positive evidence, nor are we warranted in ascribing to him any stronger measure in reference to the land, than the annulment of the previous mortgages.[224]
The first pillar of his laws contained a regulation respecting exportable produce. He forbade the exportation of all produce of the Attic soil, except olive-oil alone, and the sanction employed to enforce observance of this law deserves notice, as an illustration of the ideas of the time;—the archon was bound, on pain of forfeiting one hundred drachms, to pronounce solemn curses against every offender.[225] We are probably to take this prohibition in conjunction with other objects said to have been contemplated by Solon, especially the encouragement of artisans and manufacturers at Athens. Observing, we are told, that many new emigrants were just then flocking into Attica to seek an establishment, in consequence of its greater security, he was anxious to turn them rather to manufacturing industry than to the cultivation of a soil naturally poor.[226] He forbade the granting of citizenship to any emigrants, except such as had quitted irrevocably their former abodes, and come to Athens for the purpose of carrying on some industrious profession; and in order to prevent idleness, he directed the senate of areopagus to keep watch over the lives of the citizens generally, and punish every one who had no course of regular labor to support him. If a father had not taught his son some art or profession, Solon relieved the son from all obligation to maintain him in his old age. And it was to encourage the multiplication of these artisans, that he insured, or sought to insure, to the residents in Attica a monopoly of all its landed produce except olive-oil, which was raised in abundance more than sufficient for their wants. It was his wish that the trade with foreigners should be carried on by exporting the produce of artisan labor, instead of the produce of land.[227]
This commercial prohibition is founded on principles substantially similar to those which were acted upon in the early history of England, with reference both to corn and to wool, and in other European countries also. In so far as it was at all operative, it tended to lessen the total quantity of produce raised upon the soil of Attica, and thus to keep the price of it from rising,—a purpose less objectionable—if we assume that the legislator is to interfere at all—than that of our late Corn Laws, which were destined to prevent the price of grain from falling. But the law of Solon must have been altogether inoperative, in reference to the great articles of human subsistence; for Attica imported, both largely and constantly, grain and salt provisions,—probably, also, wool and flax for the spinning and weaving of the women, and certainly timber for building. Whether the law was ever enforced with reference to figs and honey, may well be doubted; at least these productions of Attica were in after-times generally consumed and celebrated throughout Greece. Probably also, in the time of Solon, the silver-mines of Laureium had hardly begun to be worked: these afterwards became highly productive, and furnished to Athens a commodity for foreign payments not less convenient than lucrative.[228]
It is interesting to notice the anxiety, both of Solon and of Drako, to enforce among their fellow-citizens industrious and self-maintaining habits;[229] and we shall find the same sentiment proclaimed by Periklês, at the time when Athenian power was at its maximum. Nor ought we to pass over this early manifestation in Attica, of an opinion equitable and tolerant towards sedentary industry, which in most other parts of Greece was regarded as comparatively dishonorable. The general tone of Grecian sentiment recognized no occupations as perfectly worthy of a free citizen except arms, agriculture, and athletic and musical exercises; and the proceedings of the Spartans, who kept aloof even from agriculture, and left it to their Helots, were admired, though they could not be copied throughout most part of the Hellenic world. Even minds like Plato, Aristotle, and Xenophon concurred to a considerable extent in this feeling, which they justified on the ground that the sedentary life and unceasing house-work of the artisan was inconsistent with military aptitude: the town-occupations are usually described by a word which carries with it contemptuous ideas, and though recognized as indispensable to the existence of the city, are held suitable only for an inferior and semi-privileged order of citizens. This, the received sentiment among Greeks, as well as foreigners, found a strong and growing opposition at Athens, as I have already said,—corroborated also by a similar feeling at Corinth.[230] The trade of Corinth, as well as of Chalkis in Eubœa, was extensive, at a time when that of Athens had scarce any existence. But while the despotism of Periander can hardly have failed to operate as a discouragement to industry at Corinth, the contemporaneous legislation of Solon provided for traders and artisans a new home at Athens, giving the first encouragement to that numerous town-population both in the city and in the Peiræeus, which we find actually residing there in the succeeding century. The multiplication of such town-residents, both citizens and metics, or non-freemen, was a capital fact in the onward march of Athens, since it determined not merely the extension of her trade, but also the preëminence of her naval force,—and thus, as a farther consequence, lent extraordinary vigor to her democratical government. It seems, moreover, to have been a departure from the primitive temper of Atticism, which tended both to cantonal residence and rural occupation. We have, therefore, the greater interest in noting the first mention of it as a consequence of the Solonian legislation.
To Solon is first owing the admission of a power of testamentary bequest at Athens, in all cases in which a man had no legitimate children. According to the preëxisting custom, we may rather presume that if a deceased person left neither children nor blood relations, his property descended, as at Rome, to his gens and phratry.[231] Throughout most rude states of society, the power of willing is unknown, as among the ancient Germans,—among the Romans prior to the twelve tables,—in the old laws of the Hindus,[232] etc. Society limits a man’s interest or power of enjoyment to his life, and considers his relatives as having joint reversionary claims to his property, which take effect, in certain determinate proportions, after his death; and this view was the more likely to prevail at Athens, inasmuch as the perpetuity of the family sacred rites, in which the children and near relatives partook of right, was considered by the Athenians as a matter of public as well as of private concern. Solon gave permission to every man dying without children to bequeathe his property by will as he should think fit, and the testament was maintained, unless it could be shown to have been procured by some compulsion or improper seduction. Speaking generally, this continued to be the law throughout the historical times of Athens. Sons, wherever there were sons, succeeded to the property of their father in equal shares, with the obligation of giving out their sisters in marriage along with a certain dowry. If there were no sons, then the daughters succeeded, though the father might by will, within certain limits, determine the person to whom they should be married, with their rights of succession attached to them; or might, with the consent of his daughters, make by will certain other arrangements about his property. A person who had no children, or direct lineal descendants, might bequeathe his property at pleasure: if he died without a will, first his father, then his brother or brother’s children, next his sister or sister’s children succeeded: if none such existed, then the cousins by the father’s side, next the cousins by the mother’s side,—the male line of descent having preference over the female. Such was the principle of the Solonian laws of succession, though the particulars are in several ways obscure and doubtful.[233] Solon, it appears, was the first who gave power of superseding by testament the rights of agnates and gentiles to succession,—a proceeding in consonance with his plan of encouraging both industrious occupation and the consequent multiplication of individual acquisitions.[234]
It has been already mentioned that Solon forbade the sale of daughters or sisters into slavery, by fathers or brothers,—a prohibition which shows how much females had before been looked upon as articles of property. And it would seem that before his time the violation of a free woman must have been punished at the discretion of the magistrates; for we are told that he was the first who enacted a penalty of one hundred drachms against the offender, and twenty drachms against the seducer of a free woman.[235] Moreover, it is said that he forbade a bride when given in marriage to carry with her any personal ornaments and appurtenances, except to the extent of three robes and certain matters of furniture not very valuable.[236] Solon farther imposed upon women several restraints in regard to proceedings at the obsequies of deceased relatives: he forbade profuse demonstrations of sorrow, singing of composed dirges, and costly sacrifices and contributions; he limited strictly the quantity of meat and drink admissible for the funeral banquet, and prohibited nocturnal exit, except in a car and with a light. It appears that both in Greece and Rome, the feelings of duty and affection on the part of surviving relatives prompted them to ruinous expense in a funeral, as well as to unmeasured effusions both of grief and conviviality; and the general necessity experienced for interference of the law is attested by the remark of Plutarch, that similar prohibitions to those enacted by Solon were likewise in force at his native town of Chæroneia.[237]
Other penal enactments of Solon are yet to be mentioned. He forbade absolutely evil-speaking with respect to the dead: he forbade it likewise with respect to the living, either in a temple or before judges or archons, or at any public festival,—on pain of a forfeit of three drachms to the person aggrieved, and two more to the public treasury. How mild the general character of his punishments was, may be judged by this law against foul language, not less than by the law before mentioned against rape: both the one and the other of these offences were much more severely dealt with under the subsequent law of democratical Athens. The peremptory edict against speaking ill of a deceased person, though doubtless springing in a great degree from disinterested repugnance, is traceable also in part to that fear of the wrath of the departed which strongly possessed the early Greek mind.
It seems generally that Solon determined by law the outlay for the public sacrifices, though we do not know what were his particular directions: we are told that he reckoned a sheep and a medimnus (of wheat or barley?) as equivalent, either of them, to a drachm, and that he also prescribed the prices to be paid for first-rate oxen intended for solemn occasions. But it astonishes us to see the large recompense which he awarded out of the public treasury to a victor at the Olympic or Isthmian games: to the former five hundred drachms, equal to one year’s income of the highest of the four classes on the census; to the latter one hundred drachms. The magnitude of these rewards strikes us the more when we compare them with the fines on rape and evil speaking; and we cannot be surprised that the philosopher Xenophanês noticed, with some degree of severity, the extravagant estimate of this species of excellence, current among the Grecian cities.[238] At the same time, we must remember both that these Pan-Hellenic sacred games presented the chief visible evidence of peace and sympathy among the numerous communities of Greece, and that in the time of Solon, factitious reward was still needful to encourage them. In respect to land and agriculture, Solon proclaimed a public reward of five drachms for every wolf brought in, and one drachm for every wolf’s cub: the extent of wild land has at all times been considerable in Attica. He also provided rules respecting the use of wells between neighbors, and respecting the planting in conterminous olive-grounds. Whether any of these regulations continued in operation during the better-known period of Athenian history cannot be safely affirmed.[239]
In respect to theft, we find it stated that Solon repealed the punishment of death which Drako had annexed to that crime, and enacted as a penalty, compensation to an amount double the value of the property stolen. The simplicity of this law perhaps affords ground for presuming that it really does belong to Solon, but the law which prevailed during the time of the orators respecting theft[240] must have been introduced at some later period, since it enters into distinctions and mentions both places and forms of procedure, which we cannot reasonably refer to the 46th Olympiad. The public dinners at the prytaneium, of which the archons and a select few partook in common, were also either first established, or perhaps only more strictly regulated, by Solon: he ordered barley cakes for their ordinary meals, and wheaten loaves for festival days, prescribing how often each person should dine at the table.[241] The honor of dining at the table of the prytaneium was maintained throughout as a valuable reward at the disposal of the government.
Among the various laws of Solon, there are few which have attracted more notice than that which pronounces the man, who in a sedition stood aloof and took part with neither side, to be dishonored and disfranchised.[242] Strictly speaking, this seems more in the nature of an emphatic moral denunciation, or a religious curse, than a legal sanction capable of being formally applied in an individual case and after judicial trial,—though the sentence of atīmy, under the more elaborated Attic procedure, was both definite in its penal consequences and also judicially delivered. We may, however, follow the course of ideas under which Solon was induced to write this sentence on his tables, and we may trace the influence of similar ideas in later Attic institutions. It is obvious that his denunciation is confined to that special case in which a sedition has already broken out: we must suppose that Kylôn has seized the acropolis, or that Peisistratus, Megaklês, and Lykurgus are in arms at the head of their partisans. Assuming these leaders to be wealthy and powerful men, which would in all probability be the fact, the constituted authority—such as Solon saw before him in Attica, even after his own organic amendments—was not strong enough to maintain the peace; it became, in fact, itself one of the contending parties. Under such given circumstances, the sooner every citizen publicly declared his adherence to some one of them, the earlier this suspension of legal authority was likely to terminate. Nothing was so mischievous as the indifference of the mass, or their disposition to let the combatants fight out the matter among themselves, and then to submit to the victor:[243] nothing was so likely to encourage aggression on the part of an ambitious malcontent, as the conviction that, if he could once overpower the small amount of physical force which surrounded the archons and exhibit himself in armed possession of the prytaneium or the acropolis, he might immediately count upon passive submission on the part of all the freemen without. Under the state of feeling which Solon inculcates, the insurgent leader would have to calculate that every man who was not actively in his favor would be actively against him, and this would render his enterprise much more dangerous; indeed, he could then never hope to succeed except on the double supposition of extraordinary popularity in his own person, and universal detestation of the existing government. He would thus be placed under the influence of powerful deterring motives, and mere ambition would be far less likely to seduce him into a course which threatened nothing but ruin, unless under such encouragements from the preëxisting public opinion as to make his success a result desirable for the community. Among the small political societies of Greece,—and especially in the age of Solon, when the number of despots in other parts of Greece seems to have been at its maximum,—every government, whatever might be its form, was sufficiently weak to make its overthrow a matter of comparative facility. Unless upon the supposition of a band of foreign mercenaries,—which would render it a government of naked force, and which the Athenian lawgiver would of course never contemplate,—there was no other stay for it except a positive and pronounced feeling of attachment on the part of the mass of citizens: indifference on their part would render them a prey to every daring man of wealth who chose to become a conspirator. That they should be ready to come forward not only with voice but with arms,—and that they should be known beforehand to be so,—was essential to the maintenance of every good Grecian government. It was salutary in preventing mere personal attempts at revolution, and pacific in its tendency, even where the revolution had actually broken out,—because, in the greater number of cases, the proportion of partisans would probably be very unequal, and the inferior party would be compelled to renounce their hopes.
It will be observed that in this enactment of Solon, the existing government is ranked merely as one of the contending parties. The virtuous citizen is enjoined not to come forward in its support, but to come forward at all events, either for it or against it: positive and early action is all that is prescribed to him as matter of duty. In the age of Solon, there was no political idea or system yet current which could be assumed as an unquestionable datum,—no conspicuous standard to which the citizens could be pledged under all circumstances to attach themselves. The option lay only between a mitigated oligarchy in possession and a despot in possibility; a contest wherein the affections of the people could rarely be counted upon in favor of the established government. But this neutrality in respect to the constitution was at an end after the revolution of Kleisthenês, when the idea of the sovereign people and the democratical institutions became both familiar and precious to every individual citizen. We shall hereafter find the Athenians binding themselves by the most sincere and solemn oaths to uphold their democracy against all attempts to subvert it; we shall discover in them a sentiment not less positive and uncompromising in its direction, than energetic in its inspirations. But while we notice this very important change in their character, we shall at the same time perceive that the wise precautionary recommendation of Solon, to obviate sedition by an early declaration of the impartial public between two contending leaders, was not lost upon them. Such, in point of fact, was the purpose of that salutary and protective institution which is called Ostracism. When two party-leaders, in the early stages of the Athenian democracy, each powerful in adherents and influence, had become passionately embarked in bitter and prolonged opposition to each other, such opposition was likely to conduct one or other to violent measures. Over and above the hopes of party triumph, each might well fear that if he himself continued within the bounds of legality, he might fall a victim to aggressive proceedings on the part of his antagonists. To ward off this formidable danger, a public vote was called for to determine which of the two should go into temporary banishment, retaining his property and unvisited by any disgrace. A number of citizens, not less than six thousand, voting secretly and therefore independently, were required to take part, pronouncing upon one or other of these eminent rivals a sentence of exile for ten years: the one who remained became of course more powerful, yet less in a situation to be driven into anti-constitutional courses, than he was before. I shall in a future chapter speak again of this wise precaution, and vindicate it against some erroneous interpretations to which it has given rise; at present, I merely notice its analogy with the previous Solonian law, and its tendency to accomplish the same purpose of terminating a fierce party-feud by artificially calling in the votes of the mass of impartial citizens against one or other of the leaders,—with this important difference, that while Solon assumed the hostile parties to be actually in arms, the ostracism averted that grave public calamity by applying its remedy to the premonitory symptoms.
I have already considered, in a previous chapter, the directions given by Solon for the more orderly recital of the Homeric poems; and it is curious to contrast his reverence for the old epic with the unqualified repugnance which he manifested towards Thespis and the drama,—then just nascent, and holding out little promise of its subsequent excellence. Tragedy and comedy were now beginning to be grafted on the lyric and choric song. First, one actor was provided to relieve the chorus,—subsequently, two actors were introduced to sustain fictitious characters and carry on a dialogue, in such manner that the songs of the chorus and the interlocution of the actors formed a continuous piece. Solon, after having heard Thespis acting (as all the early composers did, both tragic and comic) in his own comedy, asked him afterwards if he was not ashamed to pronounce such falsehoods before so large an audience. And when Thespis answered that there was no harm in saying and doing such things merely for amusement, Solon indignantly exclaimed, striking the ground with his stick,[244] “If once we come to praise and esteem such amusement as this, we shall quickly find the effects of it in our daily transactions.” For the authenticity of this anecdote it would be rash to vouch, but we may at least treat it as the protest of some early philosopher against the deceptions of the drama; and it is interesting, as marking the incipient struggles of that literature in which Athens afterwards attained such unrivalled excellence.
It would appear that all the laws of Solon were proclaimed, inscribed, and accepted without either discussion or resistance. He is said to have described them, not as the best laws which he could himself have imagined, but as the best which he could have induced the people to accept; he gave them validity for the space of ten years, for which period[245] both the senate collectively and the archons individually swore to observe them with fidelity, under penalty, in case of non-observance, of a golden statue, as large as life, to be erected at Delphi. But though the acceptance of the laws was accomplished without difficulty, it was not found so easy either for the people to understand and obey, or for the framer to explain them. Every day, persons came to Solon either with praise, or criticism, or suggestions of various improvements, or questions as to the construction of particular enactments; until at last he became tired of this endless process of reply and vindication, which was seldom successful either in removing obscurity or in satisfying complainants. Foreseeing that, if he remained, he would be compelled to make changes, he obtained leave of absence from his countrymen for ten years, trusting that before the expiration of that period they would have become accustomed to his laws. He quitted his native city, in the full certainty that his laws would remain unrepealed until his return; for, says Herodotus, “the Athenians could not repeal them, since they were bound by solemn oaths to observe them for ten years.” The unqualified manner in which the historian here speaks of an oath, as if it created a sort of physical necessity, and shut out all possibility of a contrary result, deserves notice as illustrating Grecian sentiment.[246]
On departing from Athens, Solon first visited Egypt, where he communicated largely with Psenôphis of Heliopolis and Sonchis of Saïs, Egyptian priests, who had much to tell respecting their ancient history, and from whom he learned matters, real or pretended, far transcending in alleged antiquity the oldest Grecian genealogies,—especially the history of the vast submerged island of Atlantis, and the war which the ancestors of the Athenians had successfully carried on against it, nine thousand years before. Solon is said to have commenced an epic poem upon this subject, but he did not live to finish it, and nothing of it now remains. From Egypt he went to Cyprus, where he visited the small town of Æreia, said to have been originally founded by Demophôn, son of Theseus; it was then under the dominion of the prince Philokyprus,—each town in Cyprus having its own petty prince. It was situated near the river Klarius, in a position precipitous and secure, but inconvenient and ill-supplied; and Solon persuaded Philokyprus to quit the old site, and establish a new town down in the fertile plain beneath. He himself stayed and became œkist of the new establishment, making all the regulations requisite for its safe and prosperous march, which was indeed so decisively manifested that many new settlers flocked into the new plantation, called by Philokyprus Soli, in honor of Solon. To our deep regret, we are not permitted to know what these regulations were; but the general fact is attested by the poems of Solon himself, and the lines, in which he bade farewell to Philokyprus on quitting the island, are yet before us. On the dispositions of this prince, his poem bestowed unqualified commendation.[247]
Besides his visit to Egypt and Cyprus, a story was also current of his having conversed with the Lydian king Crœsus, at Sardis; and the communication said to have taken place between them, has been woven by Herodotus into a sort of moral tale, which forms one of the most beautiful episodes in his whole history. Though this tale has been told and retold as if it were genuine history, yet, as it now stands, it is irreconcilable with chronology,—although, very possibly, Solon may at some time or other have visited Sardis, and seen Crœsus as hereditary prince.[248]
But even if no chronological objections existed, the moral purpose of the tale is so prominent, and pervades it so systematically, from beginning to end, that these internal grounds are of themselves sufficiently strong to impeach its credibility as a matter of fact, unless such doubts happen to be outweighed—which in this case they are not—by good contemporary testimony. The narrative of Solon and Crœsus can be taken for nothing else but an illustrative fiction, borrowed by Herodotus from some philosopher, and clothed in his own peculiar beauty of expression, which on this occasion is more decidedly poetical than is habitual with him. I cannot transcribe, and I hardly dare to abridge it. The vainglorious Crœsus, at the summit of his conquests and his riches, endeavors to win from his visitor Solon an opinion that he is the happiest of mankind. The latter, after having twice preferred to him modest and meritorious Grecian citizens, at length reminds him that his vast wealth and power are of a tenure too precarious to serve as an evidence of happiness,—that the gods are jealous and meddlesome, and often make the show of happiness a mere prelude to extreme disaster,—and that no man’s life can be called happy until the whole of it has been played out, so that it may be seen to be out of the reach of reverses. Crœsus treats this opinion as absurd, but “a great judgment from God fell upon him, after Solon was departed,—probably (observes Herodotus) because he fancied himself the happiest of all men.” First, he lost his favorite son Atys, a brave and intelligent youth,—his only other son being dumb. For the Mysians of Olympus, being ruined by a destructive and formidable wild boar which they were unable to subdue, applied for aid to Crœsus, who sent to the spot a chosen hunting force, and permitted, though with great reluctance, in consequence of an alarming dream,—that his favorite son should accompany them. The young prince was unintentionally slain by the Phrygian exile Adrastus, whom Crœsus had sheltered and protected;[249] and he had hardly recovered from the anguish of this misfortune, when the rapid growth of Cyrus and the Persian power induced him to go to war with them, against the advice of his wisest counsellors. After a struggle of about three years he was completely defeated, his capital Sardis taken by storm, and himself made prisoner. Cyrus ordered a large pile to be prepared, and placed upon it Crœsus in fetters, together with fourteen young Lydians, in the intention of burning them alive, either as a religious offering, or in fulfilment of a vow, “or perhaps (says Herodotus) to see whether some of the gods would not interfere to rescue a man so preëminently pious as the king of Lydia.”[250] In this sad extremity, Crœsus bethought him of the warning which he had before despised, and thrice pronounced, with a deep groan, the name of Solon. Cyrus desired the interpreters to inquire whom he was invoking, and learned in reply the anecdote of the Athenian lawgiver, together with the solemn memento which he had offered to Crœsus during more prosperous days, attesting the frail tenure of all human greatness. The remark sunk deep into the Persian monarch, as a token of what might happen to himself: he repented of his purpose, and directed that the pile, which had already been kindled, should be immediately extinguished. But the orders came too late; in spite of the most zealous efforts of the bystanders, the flame was found unquenchable, and Crœsus would still have been burned, had he not implored with prayers and tears the succor of Apollo, to whose Delphian and Theban temples he had given such munificent presents. His prayers were heard, the fair sky was immediately overcast, and a profuse rain descended, sufficient to extinguish the flames.[251] The life of Crœsus was thus saved, and he became afterwards the confidential friend and adviser of his conqueror.
Such is the brief outline of a narrative which Herodotus has given with full development and with impressive effect. It would have served as a show-lecture to the youth of Athens, not less admirably than the well-known fable of the Choice of Hêraklês, which the philosopher Prodikus,[252] a junior contemporary of Herodotus, delivered with so much popularity. It illustrates forcibly the religious and ethical ideas of antiquity; the deep sense of the jealousy of the gods, who would not endure pride in any one except themselves;[253] the impossibility, for any man, of realizing to himself more than a very moderate share of happiness; the danger from reactionary nemesis, if at any time he had overpassed such limit; and the necessity of calculations taking in the whole of life, as a basis for rational comparison of different individuals; and as a practical consequence from these feelings, a constant protest on the part of the moralists against vehement impulses and unrestrained aspirations. The more valuable this narrative appears, in its illustrative character, the less can we presume to treat it as a history.
It is much to be regretted that we have no information respecting events in Attica immediately after the Solonian laws and constitution, which were promulgated in 594 B. C., so as to understand better the practical effect of these changes. What we next hear respecting Solon in Attica refers to a period immediately preceding the first usurpation of Peisistratus in 560 B. C., and after the return of Solon from his long absence. We are here again introduced to the same oligarchical dissensions as are reported to have prevailed before the Solonian legislation: the pedieis, or opulent proprietors of the plain round Athens, under Lykurgus; the parali of the south of Attica, under Megaklês: and the diakrii, or mountaineers of the eastern cantons, the poorest of the three classes, under Peisistratus, are in a state of violent intestine dispute. The account of Plutarch represents Solon as returning to Athens during the height of this sedition. He was treated with respect by all parties, but his recommendations were no longer obeyed, and he was disqualified by age from acting with effect in public. He employed his best efforts to mitigate party animosities, and applied himself particularly to restrain the ambition of Peisistratus, whose ulterior projects he quickly detected.
The future greatness of Peisistratus is said to have been first portended by a miracle which happened, even before his birth, to his father Hippokratês at the Olympic games. It was realized, partly by his bravery and conduct, which had been displayed in the capture of Nisæa from the Megarians,[254]—partly by his popularity of speech and manners, his championship of the poor,[255] and his ostentatious disavowal of all selfish pretensions,—partly by an artful mixture of stratagem and force. Solon, after having addressed fruitless remonstrances to Peisistratus himself, publicly denounced his designs in verses addressed to the people. The deception, whereby Peisistratus finally accomplished his design, is memorable in Grecian tradition.[256] He appeared one day in the agora of Athens in his chariot with a pair of mules: he had intentionally wounded both his person and the mules, and in this condition he threw himself upon the compassion and defence of the people, pretending that his political enemies had violently attacked him. He implored the people to grant him a guard, and at the moment when their sympathies were freshly aroused both in his favor and against his supposed assassins, Aristo proposed formally to the ekklesia,—the pro-bouleutic senate, being composed of friends of Peisistratus, had previously authorized the proposition,[257]—that a company of fifty club-men should be assigned as a permanent body-guard for the defence of Peisistratus. To this motion Solon opposed a strenuous resistance,[258] but found himself overborne, and even treated as if he had lost his senses. The poor were earnest in favor of it, while the rich were afraid to express their dissent; and he could only comfort himself, after the fatal vote had been passed, by exclaiming that he was wiser than the former and more determined than the latter. Such was one of the first known instances in which this memorable stratagem was played off against the liberty of a Grecian community.
The unbounded popular favor which had procured the passing of this grant, was still farther manifested by the absence of all precautions to prevent the limits of the grant from being exceeded. The number of the body-guard was not long confined to fifty, and probably their clubs were soon exchanged for sharper weapons. Peisistratus thus found himself strong enough to throw off the mask and seize the acropolis. His leading opponents, Megaklês and the Alkmæônids, immediately fled the city, and it was left to the venerable age and undaunted patriotism of Solon to stand forward almost alone in a vain attempt to resist the usurpation. He publicly presented himself in the market-place, employing encouragement, remonstrance, and reproach, in order to rouse the spirit of the people. To prevent this despotism from coming, he told them would have been easy; to shake it off now was more difficult, yet at the same time more glorious.[259] But he spoke in vain; for all who were not actually favorable to Peisistratus listened only to their fears, and remained passive; nor did any one join Solon, when, as a last appeal, he put on his armor and planted himself in military posture before the door of his house. “I have done my duty, he exclaimed at length; I have sustained to the best of my power my country and the laws:” and he then renounced all farther hope of opposition,—though resisting the instances of his friends that he should flee, and returning for answer, when they asked him on what he relied for protection, “On my old age.” Nor did he even think it necessary to repress the inspirations of his Muse: some verses yet remain, composed seemingly at a moment when the strong hand of the new despot had begun to make itself sorely felt, in which he tells his countrymen: “If ye have endured sorrow from your own baseness of soul, impute not the fault of this to the gods. Ye have yourselves put force and dominion into the hands of these men, and have thus drawn upon yourselves wretched slavery.”
It is gratifying to learn that Peisistratus, whose conduct throughout his despotism was comparatively mild, left Solon untouched. How long this distinguished man survived the practical subversion of his own constitution, we cannot certainly determine; but according to the most probable statement he died the very next year, at the advanced age of eighty.
We have only to regret that we are deprived of the means of following more in detail his noble and exemplary character. He represents the best tendencies of his age, combined with much that is personally excellent; the improved ethical sensibility; the thirst for enlarged knowledge and observation, not less potent in old age than in youth; the conception of regularized popular institutions, departing sensibly from the type and spirit of the governments around him, and calculated to found a new character in the Athenian people; a genuine and reflecting sympathy with the mass of the poor, anxious not merely to rescue them from the oppressions of the rich, but also to create in them habits of self-relying industry; lastly, during his temporary possession of a power altogether arbitrary, not merely an absence of all selfish ambition, but a rare discretion in seizing the mean between conflicting exigencies. In reading his poems we must always recollect that what now appears common-place was once new, so that to his comparatively unlettered age, the social pictures which he draws were still fresh, and his exhortations calculated to live in the memory. The poems composed on moral subjects, generally inculcate a spirit of gentleness towards others and moderation in personal objects; they represent the gods as irresistible, retributive, favoring the good and punishing the bad, though sometimes very tardily. But his compositions on special and present occasions are usually conceived in a more vigorous spirit; denouncing the oppressions of the rich at one time, and the timid submission to Peisistratus at another,—and expressing, in emphatic language, his own proud consciousness of having stood forward as champion of the mass of the people. Of his early poems hardly anything is preserved; the few lines which remain seem to manifest a jovial temperament, which we may well conceive to have been overlaid by the political difficulties against which he had to contend,—difficulties arising successively out of the Megarian war, the Kylonian sacrilege, the public despondency healed by Epimenidês, and the task of arbiter between a rapacious oligarchy and a suffering people. In one of his elegies, addressed to Mimnermus, he marked out the sixtieth year as the longest desirable period of life, in preference to the eightieth year, which that poet had expressed a wish to attain;[260] but his own life, as far as we can judge, seems to have reached the longer of the two periods, and not the least honorable part of it—the resistance to Peisistratus—occurs immediately before his death.
There prevailed a story, that his ashes were collected and scattered around the island of Salamis, which Plutarch treats as absurd,—though he tells us at the same time that it was believed both by Aristotle, and by many other considerable men: it is at least as ancient as the poet Kratinus, who alluded to it in one of his comedies, and I do not feel inclined to reject it.[261] The inscription on the statue of Solon at Athens described him as a Salaminian: he had been the great means of acquiring the island for his country,—and it seems highly probable that among the new Athenian citizens who went to settle there, he may have received a lot of land and become enrolled among the Salaminian demots. The dispersion of his ashes in various parts of the island connects him with it as in some sort the œkist; and we may construe that incident, if not as the expression of a public vote, at least as a piece of affectionate vanity on the part of his surviving friends.[262]
We have now reached the period of the usurpation of Peisistratus (B. C. 560), whose dynasty governed Athens—with two temporary interruptions during the life of Peisistratus himself—for fifty years. The history of this despotism, milder than Grecian despotism generally, and productive of important consequences to Athens, will be reserved for a succeeding chapter.
APPENDIX.
The explanation which M. von Savigny gives of the Nexi and Addicti under the old Roman law of debtor and creditor (after he has refuted the elucidation of Niebuhr on the same subject), while it throws great light on the historical changes in Roman legislation on that important subject, sets forth at the same time the marked difference made in the procedure of Rome, between the demand of the creditor for repayment of principal, and the demand for payment of interest.
The primitive Roman law distinguished a debt arising from money lent (pecunia certa credita) from debts arising out of contract, delict, sale, etc., or any other source: the creditor on the former ground had a quick and easy process, by which he acquired the fullest power over the person and property of his debtor. After the debt on loan was either confessed or proved before the magistrate, thirty days were allowed to the debtor for payment: if payment was not made within that time, the creditor laid hold of him (manûs injectio) and carried him before the magistrate again. The debtor was now again required either to pay or to find a surety (vindex); if neither of these demands were complied with, the creditor took possession of him and carried him home, where he kept him in chains for two months; during which interval he brought him before the prætor publicly on three successive nundinæ. If the debt was not paid within these two months, the sentence of addiction was pronounced, and the creditor became empowered either to put his debtor to death, or to sell him for a slave (p. 81), or to keep him at forced work, without any restriction as to the degree of ill usage which might be inflicted upon him. The judgment of the magistrate authorized him, besides, to seize the property of his debtor wherever he could find any, within the limits sufficient for payment: this was one of the points which Niebuhr had denied.
Such was the old law of Rome, with respect to the consequences of an action for money had and received, for more than a century after the Twelve Tables. But the law did not apply this stringent personal execution to any debt except that arising from loan,—and even in that debt only to the principal money, not to the interest,—which latter had to be claimed by a process both more gentle and less efficient, applying to the property only and not to the person of the debtor. Accordingly, it was to the advantage of the creditor to devise some means for bringing his claim of interest under the same stringent process as his claim for the principal; it was also to his advantage, if his claim arose, not out of money lent, but out of sale, compensation for injury, or any other source, to give it the form of an action for money lent. Now the nexum, or nexi obligatio, was an artifice—a fictitious loan—whereby this purpose was accomplished. The severe process which legally belonged only to the recovery of the principal money, was extended by the nexum so as to comprehend the interest; and so as to comprehend, also, claims for money arising from all other sources (as well as from loan), wherein the law gave no direct recourse except against the property of a debtor. The debitor nexus was made liable by this legal artifice to pass into the condition of an addictus, either without having borrowed money at all, or for the interest as well as for the principal of that which he had borrowed.
The Lex Pœtelia, passed about B. C. 325, liberated all the nexi then under liability, and interdicted the nexi obligatio forever afterwards (Cicero, De Republ. ii, 34; Livy, viii, 28). Here, as in the seisachtheia of Solon, the existing contracts were cancelled, at the same time that the whole class of similar contracts were forbidden for the future.
But though the nexi obligatio was thus abolished, the old stringent remedy still continued against the debtor on loan, as far as the principal sum borrowed, apart from interest. Some mitigations were introduced: by a Lex Julia, the still more important provision was added, that the debtor by means of a cessio bonorum might save his person from seizure. But this cessio bonorum was coupled with conditions which could not always be fulfilled, nor was the debtor admitted to the benefit of it, if he had been guilty of carelessness or dishonesty. Accordingly, the old stringent process, and the addiction in which it ended, though it became less frequent, still continued throughout the course of Imperial Rome, and even down to the time of Justinian. The private prison, with adjudicated debtors working in it, was still the appendage to a Roman money-lender’s house, even in the third and fourth centuries after the Christian era, though the practice seems to have become rarer and rarer. The status of the addictus debitor, with its peculiar rights and obligations, is discussed by Quintilian (vii, 3); and Aulus Gellius observes: “Addici namque nunc et vinciri multos videmus, quia vinculorum pœnam deterrimi homines contemnunt,” (xx, 1.)
If the addictus debitor was adjudged to several creditors, they were allowed by the Twelve Tables to divide his body among them. No example was known of this power having been ever carried into effect, but the law was understood to give the power distinctly.
It is useful to have before us the old Roman law of debtor and creditor, partly as a point of comparison with the ante-Solonian practice in Attica, partly to illustrate the difference drawn in an early state of society between the claim for the principal and the claim for the interest.
See the Abhandlung of Von Savigny in the Transactions of the Berlin Academy for 1833, pp. 70-103; the subject is also treated by the same admirable expositor, in his System des heutigen Römischen Rechts, vol. v, sect. 219, and in Beilage xiv, 10-11 of that volume.
The same peculiar stringent process, which was available in the case of an action for pecunia certa credita, was also specially extended to the surety, who had paid down money to liquidate another man’s debt; the debtor, if solvent, became his addictus,—this was the actio depensi. I have already remarked in a former note, that in the Attic law, a case analogous to this was the only one in which the original remedy against the person of the debtor was always maintained. When a man had paid money to redeem a citizen from captivity, the latter, if he did not repay it, became the slave of the party who had advanced the money.
Walter (Geschichte des Römischen Rechts, sects. 583-715, 2d ed.) calls in question the above explanation of Von Savigny, on grounds which do not appear to me sufficient.
How long the feeling continued, that it was immoral and irreligious to receive any interest at all for money lent, may be seen from the following notice respecting the state of the law in France even down to 1789:—
“Avant la Révolution Française (de 1789) le prêt à intérêt n’était pas également admis dans les diverses parties du royaume. Dans les pays de droit écrit, il était permis de stipuler l’intérêt des déniers prêtés: mais la jurisprudence des parlemens resistait souvent à cet usage. Suivant le droit commun des pays coutumiers, on ne pouvait stipuler aucun intérêt pour le prêt appelé en droit mutuum. On tenait pour maxime que l’argent ne produisant rien par lui-même, un tel prêt devait être gratuit: que la perception d’intérêts était une usure: à cet égard, on admettait assez généralement les principes du droit canonique. Du reste, la législation et la jurisprudence variaient suivant les localités et suivant la nature des contrâts et des obligations.” (Carette, Lois Annotées, ou Lois, Décrets, Ordonnances, Paris 1843; Note sur le Décret de l’Assemblée Nationale concernant le Prêt et Intérêt. Août 11, 1789.)
The National Assembly declared the legality of all loans on interest, “suivant le taux déterminé par la loi,” but did not then fix any special rate. “Le décret du 11 Avril, 1793, défendit la vente et l’achat du numéraire.” “La loi du 6 floréal, an III, déclara que l’or et l’argent sont marchandises; mais elle fut rapportée par le décret du 2 prairial suivant. Les articles 1905 et 1907 du Code Civil permettent le prêt à intérêt, mais au taux fixé ou autorisé par la loi. La loi du 3 Sept. 1807 a fixé le taux d’intérêt à 5 per cent. en matière civile et à 6 per cent. en matière commerciale.”
The article on Lending-houses, in Beckmann’s History of Inventions (vol. iii, pp. 9-50), is highly interesting and instructive on the same subject. It traces the gradual calling in question, mitigation, and disappearance, of the ancient antipathy against taking interest for money, an antipathy long sanctioned by the ecclesiastics as well as by the jurists. Lending-houses, or Monts de Piété, were first commenced in Italy about the middle of the fifteenth century, by some Franciscan monks, for the purpose of rescuing poor borrowers from the exorbitant exactions of the Jews: Pope Pius the Second (Æneas Silvius, one of the ablest of the popes, about 1458-1464), was the first who approved of one of them at Perugia, but even the papal sanction was long combated by a large proportion of ecclesiastics. At first, it was to be purely charitable; not only neither giving interest to those who contributed money, nor taking interest from the borrowers,—but not even providing fixed pay to the administrators: interest was tacitly taken, but the popes were a long time before they would formally approve of such a practice. “At Vicenza, in order to avoid the reproach of usury, the artifice was employed of not demanding any interest, but admonishing the borrowers that they should give a remuneration according to their piety and ability,” (p. 31.) The Dominicans, partisans of the old doctrine, called these establishments Montes Impietatis. A Franciscan monk Bernardinus, one of the most active promoters of the Monts de Piété, did not venture to defend, but only to excuse as an unavoidable evil, the payment of wages to the clerks and administrators: “Speciosius et religiosius fatebatur Bernardinus fore, si absque ullo penitus obolo et pretio mutuum daretur et commodaretur libere pecunia, sed pium opus et pauperum subsidium exiguo sic duraturum tempore. Non enim (inquit) tantus est ardor hominum, ut gubernatores et officiales, Montium ministerio necessarii, velint laborem hunc omnem gratis subire: quod si remunerandi sint ex sorte principali, vel ipso deposito, seu exili Montium ærario, brevi exhaurietur, et commodum opportunumque istud pauperum refugium ubique peribit.” (p. 33.)
The Council of Trent, during the following century, pronounced in favor of the legality and usefulness of these lending-houses, and this has since been understood to be the sentiment of the Catholic church generally.
To trace this gradual change of moral feeling is highly instructive,—the more so, as that general basis of sentiment, of which the antipathy against lending money on interest is only a particular case, still prevails largely in society and directs the current of moral approbation and disapprobation. In some nations, as among the ancient Persians before Cyrus, this sentiment has been carried so far as to repudiate and despise all buying and selling (Herodot. i, 153). With many, the principle of reciprocity in human dealings appears, when conceived in theory, odious and contemptible, and goes by some bad name, such as egoism, selfishness, calculation, political economy, etc: the only sentiment which they will admit in theory, is, that the man who has, ought to be ready at all times to give away what he has to him who has not; while the latter is encouraged to expect and require such gratuitous donation.
CHAPTER XII.
EUBŒA. — CYCLADES.
Among the Ionic portion of Hellas are to be reckoned (besides Athens) Eubœa, and the numerous group of islands included between the southernmost Eubœan promontory, the eastern coast of Peloponnesus, and the north-western coast of Krête. Of these islands some are to be considered as outlying prolongations, in a south-easterly direction, of the mountain-system of Attica; others, of that of Eubœa; while a certain number of them lie apart from either system, and seem referable to a volcanic origin.[263] To the first class belong Keôs, Kythnus, Serīphus, Pholegandrus, Sikinus, Gyarus, Syra, Paros, and Antiparos; to the second class, Andros, Tênos, Mykonos, Dêlos, Naxos, Amorgos; to the third class, Kimôlus, Mêlos, Thêra. These islands passed amongst the ancients by the general name of the Cyclades and the Sporades; the former denomination being commonly understood to comprise those which immediately surrounded the sacred island of Dêlos,—the latter being given to those which lay more scattered and apart. But the names are not applied with uniformity or steadiness even in ancient times: at present, the whole group are usually known by the title of Cyclades.
The population of these islands was called Ionic,—with the exception of Styra and Karystus in the southern part of Eubœa, and the island of Kythnus, which were peopled by dryopes,[264] the same tribe as those who have been already remarked in the Argolic peninsula; and with the exception also of Mêlos and Thêra, which were colonies from Sparta.
The island of Eubœa, long and narrow like Krête, and exhibiting a continuous backbone of lofty mountains from north-west to south-east, is separated from Bœotia at one point by a strait so narrow (celebrated in antiquity under the name of the Eurīpus), that the two were connected by a bridge for a large portion of the historical period of Greece, erected during the later times of the Peloponnesian war by the inhabitants of Chalkis.[265] Its general want of breadth leaves little room for plains: the area of the island consists principally of mountain, rock, dell, and ravine, suited in many parts for pasture, but rarely convenient for grain-culture or town habitations. Some plains there were, however, of great fertility, especially that of Lelantum,[266] bordering on the sea near Chalkis, and continuing from that city in a southerly direction towards Eretria. Chalkis and Eretria, both situated on the western coast, and both occupying parts of this fertile plain, were the two principal places in the island: the domain of each seems to have extended across the island from sea to sea.[267] Towards the northern end of the island were situated Histiæa, afterwards called Oreus,—as well as Kêrinthus and Dium, Athênæ Diades, Ædêpsus, Ægæ, and Orobiæ, are also mentioned on the north-western coast, over against Lokris. Dystus, Styra, and Karystus are made known to us in the portion of the island south of Eretria,—the two latter opposite to the Attic demes Halæ, Araphênides, and Prasiæ.[268] The large extent of the island of Eubœa was thus distributed between six or seven cities, the larger and central portion belonging to Chalkis and Eretria. But the extensive mountain lands, applicable only for pastures in the summer,—for the most part public lands, let out for pasture to such proprietors as had the means of providing winter sustenance elsewhere for their cattle,—were never visited by any one except the shepherds; and were hardly better known to the citizens resident in Chalkis and Eretria than if they had been situated on the other side of the Ægean.[269]
The towns above enumerated in Eubœa, excepting Athenæ Diades, all find a place in the Iliad. Of their history we know no particulars until considerably after 776 B. C., and they are first introduced to us as Ionic, though in Homer the population are called Abantes. The Greek authors are never at a loss to give us the etymology of a name. While Aristotle tells us that the Abantes were Thracians who had passed over into the island from Abæ in Phokis, Hesiod deduces the name of Eubœa from the cow Iô.[270] Hellopia, a district near Histiæa, was said to have been founded by Hellops, son of Ion: according to others, Æklus and Kothus, two Athenians,[271] were the founders, the former of Eretria, the latter of Chalkis and Kêrinthus: and we are told, that among the demes of Attica, there were two named Histiæa and Eretria, from whence some contended that the appellations of the two Eubœan towns were derived. Though Herodotus represents the population of Styra as Dryopian, there were others who contended that it had originally been peopled from Marathon and the tetrapolis of Attica, partly from the deme called Steireïs. The principal writers whom Strabo consulted seem to trace the population of Eubœa, by one means or other, to an Attic origin, though there were peculiarities in the Eretrian dialect which gave rise to the supposition that they had been joined by settlers from Elis, or from the Triphylian Makistus.
Our earliest historical intimations represent Chalkis and Eretria as the wealthiest, most powerful, and most enterprising Ionic cities in European Greece,—apparently surpassing Athens, and not inferior to Samos or Miletus. Besides the fertility of the plain Lelantum, Chalkis possessed the advantage of copper and iron ore, obtained in immediate proximity both to the city and to the sea,—which her citizens smelted and converted into arms and other implements, with a very profitable result: the Chalkidic sword acquired a distinctive renown.[272] In this mineral source of wealth several of the other islands shared: iron ore is found in Keôs, Kythnus, and Seriphus, and traces are still evident in the latter island of extensive smelting formerly practised.[273] Moreover, in Siphnus, there were in early times veins of silver and gold, by which the inhabitants were greatly enriched; though their large acquisitions, attested by the magnitude of the tithe[274] which they offered at the Delphian temple, were only of temporary duration, and belong particularly to the seventh and sixth centuries before the Christian era. The island of Naxos too, was at an early day wealthy and populous. Andros, Tênos, Keôs, and several other islands, were at one time reduced to dependence upon Eretria:[275] other islands seem to have been in like manner dependent upon Naxos, which at the time immediately preceding the Ionic revolt possessed a considerable maritime force, and could muster eight thousand heavy-armed citizens,[276]—a very large force for any single Grecian city. Nor was the military force of Eretria much inferior; for in the temple of the Amarynthian Artemis, nearly a mile from the city, to which the Eretrians were in the habit of marching in solemn procession to celebrate the festival of the goddess, there stood an ancient column setting forth that the procession had been performed by no less than three thousand hoplites, six hundred horsemen, and sixty chariots.[277] The date of this inscription cannot be known, but it can hardly be earlier than the 45th Olympiad, or 600 B. C.,—near about the time of the Solonian legislation. Chalkis was still more powerful than Eretria; both were in early times governed by an oligarchy, which among the Chalkidians was called hippobotæ, or horse-feeders,—proprietors probably of most part of the plain called Lelantum, and employing the adjoining mountains as summer pasture for their herds. The extent of their property is attested by the large number of four thousand kleruchs, or out-freemen, whom Athens quartered upon their lands, after the victory gained over them when they assisted the expelled Hippias in his efforts to regain the Athenian sceptre.[278]
Confining our attention, as we now do, to the first two centuries of Grecian history, or the interval between 776 B. C. and 560 B. C., there are scarce any facts which we can produce to ascertain the condition of these Ionic islands. Two or three circumstances, however, may be named, which go to confirm our idea of their early wealth and importance.
1. The Homeric Hymn to Apollo presents to us the island of Dêlos as the centre of a great periodical festival in honor of Apollo, celebrated by all the cities, insular and continental, of the Ionic name. What the date of this hymn is, we have no means of determining: Thucydidês quotes it, without hesitation, as the production of Homer, and, doubtless, it was in his time universally accepted as such,—though modern critics concur in regarding both that and the other hymns as much later than the Iliad and Odyssey: it cannot probably be later than 600 B. C. The description of the Ionic visitors presented to us in this hymn is splendid and imposing: the number of their ships, the display of their finery, the beauty of their women, the athletic exhibitions as well as the matches of song and dance,—all these are represented as making an ineffaceable impression on the spectator:[279] “the assembled Ionians look as if they were beyond the reach of old age or death.” Such was the magnificence of which Dêlos was the periodical theatre, and which called forth the voices and poetical genius not merely of itinerant bards, but also of the Delian maidens in the temple of Apollo, during the century preceding 560 B. C. At that time it was the great central festival of the Ionians in Asia and Europe; frequented by the twelve Ionic cities, in and near Asia Minor, as well as by Athens and Chalkis in Europe: it had not yet been superseded by the Ephesia as the exclusive festival of the former, nor had the Panathenæa of Athens reached the importance which afterwards came to belong to them during the plenitude of the Athenian power.
We find both Polykratês of Samos, and Peisistratus of Athens, taking a warm interest in the sanctity of Dêlos and the celebrity of this festival.[280] But it was partly the rise of these two great Ionian despots, partly the conquests of the Persians in Asia Minor, which broke up the independence of the numerous petty Ionian cities, during the last half of the sixth century before the Christian era; hence the great festival at Dêlos gradually declined in importance. Though never wholly intermitted, it was shorn of much of its previous ornaments, and especially of that which constituted the first of all ornaments,—the crowds of joyous visitors. And Thucydidês, when he notices the attempt made by the Athenians during the Peloponnesian war, in the height of their naval supremacy, to revive the Delian festival, quotes the Homeric Hymn to Apollo, as a certificate of its foregone and long-forgotten splendor. We perceive that even he could find no better evidence than this hymn, for Grecian transactions of a century anterior to Peisistratus,—and we may, therefore, judge how imperfectly the history of this period was known to the men who took part in the Peloponnesian war. The hymn is exceedingly precious as an historical document, because it attests to us a transitory glory and extensive association of the Ionic Greeks on both sides of the Ægean sea, which the conquests of the Lydians first, and of the Persians afterwards, overthrew,—a time when the hair of the wealthy Athenian was decorated with golden ornaments, and his tunic made of linen,[281] like that of the Milesians and Ephesians, instead of the more sober costume and woollen clothing which he subsequently copied from Sparta and Peloponnesus,—a time too when the Ionic name had not yet contracted that stain of effeminacy and cowardice, which stood imprinted upon it in the time of Herodotus and Thucydidês, and which grew partly out of the subjugation of the Asiatic Ionians by Persia, partly out of the antipathy of the Peloponnesian Dorians to Athens. The author of the Homeric Hymn, in describing the proud Ionians who thronged, in his day, to the Delian festival, could hardly have anticipated a time to come, when the name Ionian would become a reproach, such as the European Greeks, to whom it really belonged, were desirous of disclaiming.[282]
2. Another illustrative fact, in reference both to the Ionians generally, and to Chalkis and Eretria in particular, during the century anterior to Peisistratus, is to be found in the war between these two cities respecting the fertile plain Lelantum, which lay between them. In general, it appears, these two important towns maintained harmonious relations; but there were some occasions of dispute, and one in particular, wherein a formidable war ensued between them. Several allies joined with each, and it is remarkable that this was the only war known to Thucydidês, anterior to the Persian conquest, which had risen above the dignity of a mere quarrel between neighbors; and in which so many different states manifested a disposition to interfere, as to impart to it a semi-Hellenic character.[283] Of the allies of each party on this occasion we know only that the Milesians lent assistance to Eretria, and the Samians, as well as the Thessalians and the Chalkidic colonies in Thrace, to Chalkis. A column, still visible during the time of Strabo, in the temple of the Amarynthian Artemis near Eretria, recorded the covenant entered into mutually by the two belligerents, to abstain from missiles, and to employ nothing but hand-weapons. The Eretrians are said to have been superior in horse, but they were vanquished in the battle; the tomb of Kleomachus of Pharsalus, a distinguished warrior who had perished in the cause of the Chalkidians, was erected in the agora of Chalkis. We know nothing of the date, the duration, or the particulars of this war;[284] but it seems that the Eretrians were worsted, though their city always maintained its dignity as the second state in the island. Chalkis was decidedly the first, and continued to be flourishing, populous, and commercial, long after it had lost its political importance, throughout all the period of Grecian independent history.[285]
3. Of the importance of Chalkis and Eretria, during the seventh and part of the eighth century before the Christian era, we gather other evidences,—partly in the numerous colonies founded by them, which I shall advert to in a subsequent chapter,—partly in the prevalence throughout a large portion of Greece, of the Euboic scale of weight and money. What the quantities and proportions of this scale were, has been first shown by M. Boeckh in his “Metrologie.” It was of Eastern origin, and the gold collected by Dareius in tribute throughout the vast Persian empire, was ordered to be delivered in Euboic talents. Its divisions,—the talent equal to sixty minæ, the mina equal to one hundred drachms, the drachm equal to six obols,—were the same as those of the scale called Æginæan, introduced by Pheidôn of Argos; but the six obols of the Euboic drachm contained a weight of silver equal only to five Æginæan obols, so that the Euboic denominations,—drachm, mina, and talent,—were equal only to five-sixths of the same denominations in the Æginæan scale. It was the Euboic scale which prevailed at Athens before the debasement introduced by Solon; which debasement,—amounting to about twenty-seven per cent., as has been mentioned in a [previous chapter],—created a third scale, called the Attic, distinct both from the Æginæan and Euboic,—standing to the former in the ratio of 3 : 5, and to the latter, in the ratio of 18 : 25. It seems plain that the Euboic scale was adopted by the Ionians through their intercourse with the Lydians,[286] and other Asiatics, and that it became naturalized among their cities under the name of the Euboic, because Chalkis and Eretria were the most actively commercial states in the Ægean,—just as the superior commerce of Ægina among the Dorian states, had given to the scale introduced by Pheidôn of Argos, the name of Æginæan. The fact of its being so called indicates a time when these two Eubœan cities surpassed Athens in maritime power and extended commercial relations, and when they stood among the foremost of the Ionic cities throughout Greece. The Euboic scale, after having been debased by Solon, in reference to coinage and money, still continued in use at Athens for merchandise: the Attic mercantile mina retained its primitive Euboic weight.[287]
CHAPTER XIII.
ASIATIC IONIANS.
There existed at the commencement of historical Greece, in 776 B. C., besides the Ionians in Attica and the Cyclades, twelve Ionian cities of note on or near the coast of Asia Minor, besides a few others less important. Enumerated from south to north, they stand,—Milêtus, Myûs, Priênê, Samos, Ephesus, Kolophôn, Lebedus, Teôs, Erythræ, Chios, Klazomenæ, Phôkæa.
That these cities, the great ornament of the Ionic name, were founded by emigrants from European Greece, there is no reason to doubt. How, or when, they were founded, we have no history to tell us; the legend, which has already been set forth in a preceding chapter, gives us a great event called the Ionic migration, referred by chronologists to one special year, one hundred and forty years after the Trojan war. This massive grouping belongs to the character of legend,—the Æolic and Ionic emigrations, as well as the Dorian conquest of Peloponnesus, are each invested with unity, and imprinted upon the imagination as the results of a single great impulse. But such is not the character of the historical colonies: when we come to relate the Italian and Sicilian emigrations, it will appear that each colony has its own separate nativity and causes of existence. In the case of the Ionic emigration, this large scale of legendary conception is more than usually conspicuous, since to that event is ascribed the foundation or repeopling both of the Cyclades and of the Asiatic Ionian cities.
Euripidês treats Ion,[288] the son of Kreusa by Apollo, as the planter of these latter cities: but the more current form of the legend assigns that honor to the sons of Kodrus, two of whom are especially named, corresponding to the two greatest of the ten continental Ionic cities: Androklus, as founder of Ephesus, Neileus of Milêtus. These two towns are both described as founded directly from Athens. The others seem rather to be separate settlements, neither consisting of Athenians, nor emanating from Athens, but adopting the characteristic Ionic festival of the Apaturia, and, in part at least, the Ionic tribes,—and receiving princes from the Kodrid families at Ephesus or Milêtus, as a condition of being admitted into the Pan-Ionic confederate festival. The poet Mimnermus ascribed the foundation of his native city Kolophôn to emigrants from Pylus, in Peloponnesus, under Andræmôn: Teôs was settled by Minyæ of Orchomenus, under Athamas: Klazomenæ by settlers from Kleônæ and Phlius, Phôkæa, by Phocians, Priênê in large portion by Kadmeians from Thebes. And with regard to the powerful islands of Chios and Samos, it does not appear that their native authors,—the Chian poet Ion, or the Samaian poet Asius,—ascribed to them a population emanating from Athens: Pausanias could not make out from the poems of Ion how it happened that Chios came to form a part of the Ionic federation.[289] Herodotus, especially, dwells upon the number of Grecian tribes and races, who contributed to supply the population of the twelve Ionic cities,—Minyæ, from Orchomenus, Kadmeians, Dryopians, Phocians, Molossians, Arkadian Pelasgians, Dorians from Epidaurus, and “several other sections” of Greeks. Moreover, he particularly singles out the Milesians, as claiming for themselves the truest Ionic blood, and as having started from the prytaneium, at Athens; thus plainly implying his belief that the majority, at least, of the remaining settlers did not take their departure from the same hearth.[290]
But the most striking information which Herodotus conveys to us is, the difference of language, or dialect, which marked these twelve cities. Milêtus, Myûs, and Priênê, all situated on the soil of the Karians, had one dialect: Ephesus, Kolophôn, Lebedus, Teôs, Klazomenæ, and Phôkæa, had a dialect common to all, but distinct from that of the three preceding: Chios and Erythræ exhibited a third dialect, and Samos, by itself, a fourth. Nor does the historian content himself with simply noting such quadruple variety of speech; he employs very strong terms to express the degree of dissimilarity.[291] The testimony of Herodotus as to these dialects is, of course, indisputable.
Instead of one great Ionic emigration, then, the statements above cited conduct us rather to the supposition of many separate and successive settlements, formed by the Greeks of different sections, mingling with and modified by preëxisting Lydians and Karians, and subsequently allying themselves with Milêtus and Ephesus into the so-called Ionic amphiktyony. As a condition of this union, they are induced to adopt among their chiefs princes of the Kodrid gens or family; who are called sons of Kodrus, but who are not for that reason to be supposed necessarily contemporary with Androklus or Neileus.
The chiefs selected by some of the cities are said to have been Lykians,[292] of the heroic family of Glaukus and Bellerophon: in some causes, the Kodrids and the Glaukids were chiefs conjointly. Respecting the dates of these separate settlements, we cannot give any account, for they lie beyond the commencement of authentic history: there is ground for believing that most of them existed for some time previous to 776 B. C., but at what date the federative solemnity uniting the twelve cities was commenced, we do not know.
The account of Herodotus shows us that these colonies were composed of mixed sections of Greeks,—an important circumstance in estimating their character. Such was usually the case more or less in respect to all emigrations, and hence the establishments thus planted contracted at once, generally speaking, both more activity and more instability than was seen among those Greeks who remained at home, and among whom the old habitual routine had not been counterworked by any marked change of place or of social relations. For in a new colony it became necessary to adopt fresh classifications of the citizens, to range them together in fresh military and civil divisions, and to adopt new characteristic sacrifices and religious ceremonies as bonds of union among all the citizens conjointly. At the first outset of a colony, moreover, there were inevitable difficulties to be surmounted, which imposed upon its leading men the necessity of energy and forethought,—more especially in regard to maritime affairs, on which not only their connection with the countrymen whom they had left behind, but also their means of establishing advantageous relations with the population of the interior, depended. At the same time, the new arrangements indispensable among the colonists were far from working always harmoniously: dissension and partial secessions were not unfrequent occurrences. And what has been called the mobility of the Ionic race, as compared with the Doric, is to be ascribed in a great measure to this mixture of races and external stimulus arising out of expatriation: for there is no trace of it in Attica anterior to Solon; and on the other hand, the Doric colonies of Korkyra and Syracuse exhibit a population not less excitable than the Ionic towns generally,[293] and much more so than the Ionic colony of Massalia. The remarkable commercial enterprise, which will be seen to characterize Milêtus, Samos, and Phokæa, belongs but little to anything connected with the Ionic temperament.
All the Ionic towns, except Klazomenæ and Phokæa, are represented to have been founded on some preëxisting settlements of Karians, Lelegians, Kretans, Lydians, or Pelasgians.[294] In some cases these previous inhabitants were overcome, slain, or expelled; in others they were accepted as fellow-residents, and the Grecian cities thus established acquired a considerable tinge of Asiatic customs and feelings. What is related by Herodotus respecting the first establishment of Neileus and his emigrants at Milêtus is in this point of view remarkable. They took out with them no women from Athens (the historian says), but found wives in the Karian women of the place, whose husbands and fathers they overcame and put to death; and the women, thus violently seized, manifested their repugnance by taking a solemn oath among themselves that they would never eat with their new husbands, nor ever call them by their personal names. This same pledge they imposed upon their daughters; but how long the practice lasted, we are not informed: it rather seems from the language of the historian that traces of it were visible even in his day in the family customs of the Milesians. The population of this greatest of the Ionic towns must thus have been half of Karian breed. It is to be presumed that what is true of Neileus and his companions would be found true, also, respecting most of the maritime colonies of Greece, and that the vessels which took them out would be scantily provided with women. But on this point, unfortunately, we are left without information.
The worship of Apollo Didymæus, at Branchidæ, near Milêtus,—that of Artemis, near Ephesus,—and that of the Apollo Klarius, near Kolophôn,—seems to have existed among the native Asiatic population before the establishment of either of these three cities. To maintain these preëxisting local rites was not less congenial to the feelings, than beneficial to the interests, of the Greeks: all the three establishments acquired increased celebrity under Ionic administration, and contributed in their turn to the prosperity of the towns to which they were attached. Milêtus, Myûs, and Priênê were situated on or near the productive plain of the river Mæander; while Ephesus was, in like manner, planted near the mouth of the Kaïster, thus immediately communicating with the productive breadth of land separating Mount Tmôlus on the north from Mount Messôgis on the south, through which that river runs: Kolophôn is only a very few miles north of the same river. Possessing the best means of communication with the interior, these three towns seem to have thriven with greater rapidity than the rest; and they, together with the neighboring island of Samos, constituted in early times the strength of the Pan-Ionic amphiktyony. The situation of the sacred precinct of Poseidôn (where this festival was celebrated), on the north side of the promontory of Mykalê, near Priênê, and between Ephesus and Milêtus, seems to show that these towns formed the primitive centre to which the other Ionian settlements became gradually aggregated. For it was by no means a centrical site with reference to all the twelve; so that Thalês of Milêtus,—who at a subsequent period recommended a more intimate political union between the twelve Ionic towns, and the establishment of a common government to manage their collective affairs,—indicated Teôs,[295] and not Priênê, as the suitable place for it. Moreover, it seems that the Pan-Ionic festival,[296] though still formally continued, had lost its importance before the time of Thucydidês, and had become practically superseded by the more splendid festival of the Ephesia, near Ephesus, where the cities of Ionia found a more attractive place of meeting.
An island close adjoining to the coast, or an outlying tongue of land connected with the continent by a narrow isthmus, and presenting some hill sufficient for an acropolis, seems to have been considered as the most favorable situation for Grecian colonial settlement. To one or other of these descriptions most of the Ionic cities, conform.[297] The city of Milêtus at the height of its power had four separate harbors, formed probably by the aid of the island of Ladê and one or two islets which lay close off against it: the Karian or Kretan establishment, which the Ionic colonists found on their arrival and conquered, was situated on an eminence overhanging the sea, and became afterwards known by the name of Old Milêtus, at a time when the new Ionic town had been extended down to the water-side and rendered maritime.[298] The territory of this important city seems to have comprehended both the southern promontory called Poseidium and the greater part of the northern promontory of Mykalê,[299] reaching on both sides of the river Mæander: the inconsiderable town of Myûs[300] on the southern bank of the Mæander, an offset seemingly formed by the secession of some Milesian malcontents under a member of the Neleid gens named Kydrêlus, maintained for along time its autonomy, but was at length absorbed into the larger unity of Milêtus; its swampy territory having been rendered uninhabitable by a plague of gnats. Priênê acquired an importance greater than naturally belonged to it, by its immediate vicinity to the holy Pan-Ionic temple and its function of administering the sacred rites,[301]—a dignity which it probably was only permitted to enjoy in consequence of the jealousies of its greater neighbors Milêtus, Ephesus, and Samos.[302] The territories of these Grecian cities seem to have been interspersed with Karian villages, probably in the condition of subjects.
It is rare to find a genuine Greek colony established at any distance from the sea; but the two Asiatic towns called Magnêsia form exceptions to this position,—one situated on the south side of the Mæander, or rather on the river Lethæus, which runs into the Mæander; the other more northerly, adjoining to the Æolic Greeks, on the northern declivity of Mount Sipylus, and near to the plain of the river Harmus. The settlement of both these towns dates before the period of history: the tale[303] which we read affirms them to be settlements from the Magnêtes in Thessaly, formed by emigrants who had first passed into Krête, under the orders of the Delphian oracle, and next into Asia, where they are said to have extricated the Ionic and Æolic colonists, then recently arrived, from a position of danger and calamity. By the side of this story, which can neither be verified nor contradicted, it is proper to mention the opinion of Niebuhr, that both these towns of Magnêsia are remnants of a primitive Pelasgic population, akin to, but not emigrants from, the Magnêtes of Thessaly,—Pelasgians whom he supposes to have occupied both the valley of the Hermus and that of the Kaïster, anterior to the Æolic and Ionic migrations. In support of this opinion, it may be stated that there were towns bearing the Pelasgic name of Larissa, both near the Hermus and near the Mæander: Menekratês of Elæa considered the Pelasgians as having once occupied most part of that coast; and O. Müller even conceives the Tyrrhenians to have been Pelasgians from Tyrrha, a town in the interior of Lydia south of Tmôlus. The point is one upon which we have not sufficient evidence to advance beyond conjecture.[304]
Of the Ionic towns, with which our real knowledge of Asia Minor begins, Milêtus[305] was the most powerful; and its celebrity was derived not merely from its own wealth and population, but also from the extraordinary number of its colonies, established principally in the Propontis and Euxine, and amounting, as we are told by some authors, to not less than seventy-five or eighty. Respecting these colonies I shall speak presently, in treating of the general colonial expansion of Greece during the eighth and seventh centuries B. C.: at present, it is sufficient to notice that the islands of Ikarus and Lerus,[306] not far from Samos and the Ionic coast generally, were among the places planted with Milesian settlers.
The colonization of Ephesus by Androklus appears to be connected with the Ionic occupation of Samos, so far as the confused statements which we find enable us to discern. Androklus is said to have lingered upon that island for a long time, until the oracle vouchsafed to indicate to him what particular spot to occupy on the continent; at length the indication was given, and he planted his colonists at the fountain of Hypelæon and on a portion of the hill of Korêssus, within a short distance of the temple and sanctuary of Artemis; whose immediate inhabitants he respected and received as brethren, while he drove away for the most part the surrounding Lelegians and Lydians. The population of the new town of Ephesus was divided into three tribes,—the pre-existing inhabitants, or Ephesians proper, the Bennians, and the Euônymeis, so named (we are told) from the deme Euonymus in Attica.[307] So much did the power of Androklus increase, that he was enabled to conquer Samos, and to expel from it the prince Leôgorus: of the retiring Samians, a part are said to have gone to Samothrace and there established themselves, while another portion acquired possession of Marathêsium near Ephesus, on the adjoining continent of Asia Minor, from whence, after a short time, they recovered their island, compelling Androklus to return to Ephesus. It seems, however, that in the compromise and treaty which ensued, they yielded possession of Marathêsium to Androklus,[308] and confined themselves to Anæa, a more southerly district farther removed from the Ephesian settlement, and immediately opposite to the island of Samos. Androklus is said to have perished in a battle fought for the defence of Priênê, which town he had come to aid against an attack of the Karians. His dead body was brought from the field and buried near the gates of Ephesus, where the tomb was yet shown during the days of Pausanias; but a sedition broke out against his sons after him, and the malcontents strengthened their party by inviting reinforcements from Teôs and Karina. The struggle which ensued terminated in the discontinuance of the kingly race and the establishment of a republican government,—the descendants of Androklus being allowed to retain both considerable honorary privileges and the hereditary priesthood of the Eleusinian Dêmêtêr. The newly-received inhabitants were enrolled in two new tribes, making in all five tribes, which appear to have existed throughout the historical times at Ephesus.[309] It appears too that a certain number of fugitive proprietors from Samos found admission among the Ephesians and received the freedom of the city; and the part of the city in which they resided acquired the name of Samorna, or Smyrna, by which name it was still known in the time of the satirical poet Hippônax, about 530 B. C.[310]
Such are the stories which we find respecting the infancy of the Ionic Ephesus. The fact of its increase and of its considerable acquisitions of territory, at the expense of the neighboring Lydians,[311] is at least indisputable. It does not appear to have been ever very powerful or enterprising at sea, and few maritime colonies owed their origin to its citizens; but its situation near the mouth and the fertile plain of the Kaïster was favorable both to the multiplication of its inland dependencies and to its trade with the interior. A despot named Pythagoras is said to have subverted by stratagem the previous government of the town, at some period before Cyrus, and to have exercised power for a certain time with great cruelty.[312] It is worthy of remark, that we find no trace of the existence of the four Ionic tribes at Ephesus; and this, when coupled with the fact that neither Ephesus nor Kolophôn solemnized the peculiar Ionic festival of the Apaturia, is one among other indications that the Ephesian population had little community of race with Athens, though the œkist may have been of heroic Athenian family. Guhl attempts to show, on mistaken grounds, that the Greek settlers at Ephesus were mostly of Arkadian origin.[313]
Kolophôn, about fifteen miles north of Ephesus, and divided from the territory of the latter by the precipitous mountain range called Gallêsium, though a member of the Pan-Ionic amphiktyony, seems to have had no Ionic origin: it recognized neither an Athenian œkist nor Athenian inhabitants. The Kolophonian poet Mimnermus tells us that the œkist of the place was the Pylian Andræmôn, and that the settlers were Pylians from Peloponnesus. “We quitted (he says) Pylus, the city of Neleus, and passed in our vessels to the much-desired Asia. There with the insolence of superior force, and employing from the beginning cruel violence, we planted ourselves in the tempting Kolophôn.”[314] This description of the primitive Kolophonian settlers, given with Homeric simplicity, forcibly illustrates the account given by Herodotus of the proceedings of Neileus at Milêtus. The establishment of Andræmôn must have been effected by force, and by the dispossession of previous inhabitants, leaving probably their wives and daughters as a prey to the victors. The city of Kolophôn seems to have been situated about two miles inland, but it had a fortified port called Notium, not joined to it by long walls as the Peiræeus was to Athens, but completely distinct. There were times in which this port served the Kolophonians as a refuge, when their upper town was assailed by Persians from the interior; but the inhabitants of Notium occasionally manifested inclinations to act as a separate community, and dissensions thus occurred between them and the people in Kolophôn,[315]—so difficult was it in the Greek mind to keep up a permanent feeling of political amalgamation beyond the circle of the town walls.
It is much to be regretted that nothing beyond a few lines of Mimnermus, and nothing at all of the long poem of Xenophanês (composed seemingly near a century after Mimnermus) on the foundation of Kolophôn, has reached us. The short statements of Pausanias omit all notice of that violence which the native Kolophonian poet so emphatically signalizes in his ancestors: they are derived more from the temple legends of the adjoining Klarian Apollo and from morsels of epic poetry referring to that holy place, which connected itself with the worship of Apollo in Krête, at Delphi, and at Thebes. The old Homeric poem, called Thebaïs, reported that Mantô, daughter of the Theban prophet Teiresias, had been presented to Apollo at Delphi as a votive offering by the victorious epigoni: the god directed her to migrate to Asia, and she thus arrived at Klarus, where she married the Kretan Rhakius. The offspring of this marriage was the celebrated prophet Mopsus, whom the Hesiodic epic described as having gained a victory in prophetic skill over Kalchas; the latter having come to Klarus after the Trojan war in company with Amphilochus son of Amphiaraus.[316] Such tales evince the early importance of the temple and oracle of Apollo at Klarus, which appears to have been in some sort an emanation from the great sanctuary of Branchidæ near Milêtus; for we are told that the high priest of Klarus was named by the Milesians.[317] Pausanias states that Mopsus expelled the indigenous Karians, and established the city of Kolophôn; and that the Ionic settlers under Promêthus and Damasichthôn, sons of Kodrus, were admitted amicably as additional inhabitants:[318] a story probably emanating from the temple, and very different from that of the Kolophonian townsmen in the time of Mimnermus. It seems evident that not only the Apollinic sanctuary at Klarus, but also the analogous establishments on the south of Asia Minor at Phasêlis, Mallus, etc., had their own foundation legends (apart from those of the various bands of emigrant settlers), in which they connected themselves by the best thread which they could devise with the epic glories of Greece.[319]
Passing along the Ionian coast in a north-westerly direction from Kolophôn, we come first to the small but independent Ionic settlement of Lebedus—next, to Teôs, which occupies the southern face of a narrow isthmus, Klazomenæ being placed on the northern: this isthmus, a low narrow valley of about six miles across, forms the eastern boundary of a very considerable peninsula, containing the mountainous and woody regions called Mimas and Kôrykus. Teôs is said to have been first founded by Orchomenian Minyæ under Athamas, and to have received afterwards by consent various swarms of settlers, Orchomenians and others, under the Kodrid leaders Apœkus, Nauklus, and Damasus.[320] The valuable Teian inscriptions published in the large collection of Boeckh, while they mention certain names and titles of honor which connect themselves with this Orchomenian origin, reveal to us at the same time some particulars respecting the internal distribution of the Teian citizens. The territory of the town was distributed amongst a certain number of towers, to each of which corresponded a symmory or section of the citizens, having its common altar and sacred rites, and often its heroic eponymus. How many in number the tribes of Teôs were, we do not know: the name of the Geleontes, one of the four old Ionic tribes, is preserved in an inscription; but the rest, both as to names and number, are unknown. The symmories or tower-fellowships of Teôs seem to be analogous to the phratries of ancient Athens,—forming each a factitious kindred, recognizing a common mythical ancestor, and bound together by a communion at once religious and political. The individual name attached to each tower is in some cases Asiatic rather than Hellenic, indicating in Teôs the mixture not merely of Ionic and Æolic, but also of Karian or Lydian inhabitants, of which Pausanias speaks.[321] Gerrhæidæ, or Cherræidæ, the port on the west side of the town of Teôs, had for its eponymous hero Gerês the Bœotian, who was said to have accompanied the Kodrids in their settlement.
The worship of Athênê Polias at Erythræ may probably be traceable to Athens, and that of the Tyrian Hêraklês (of which Pausanias recounts a singular legend) would seem to indicate an intermixture of Phœnician inhabitants. But the close neighborhood of Erythræ to the island of Chios, and the marked analogy of dialect which Herodotus[322] attests between them, show that the elements of the population must have been much the same in both. The Chian poet Iôn mentioned the establishment of Abantes from Eubœa in his native island, under Amphiklus, intermixed with the preëxisting Karians: Hektor, the fourth descendant from Amphiklus, was said to have incorporated this island in the Pan-Ionic amphiktyony. It is to Pherekydês that we owe the mention of the name of Egertius, as having conducted a miscellaneous colony into Chios; and it is through Egertius (though Iôn, the native poet, does not appear to have noticed him) that this logographer made out the connection between the Chians and the other group of Kodrid settlements.[323] In Erythræ, Knôpus or Kleopus is noted as the Kodrid œkist, and as having procured for himself, partly by force, partly by consent, the sovereignty of the preëxisting settlement of mixed inhabitants. The Erythræan historian Hippias recounted how Knôpus had been treacherously put to death on ship-board, by Ortygês and some other false adherents; who, obtaining some auxiliaries from the Chian king Amphiklus, made themselves masters of Erythræ and established in it an oppressive oligarchy. They maintained the government, with a temper at once licentious and cruel, for some time, admitting none but a chosen few of the population within the walls of the town; until at length Hippotês the brother of Knôpus, arriving from without at the head of some troops, found sufficient support from the discontents of the Erythræans to enable him to overthrow the tyranny. Overpowered in the midst of a public festival, Ortygês and his companions were put to death with cruel tortures and the same tortures were inflicted upon their innocent wives and children,[324]—a degree of cruelty which would at no time have found place amidst a community of European Greeks: even in the murderous party dissensions of Korkyra during the Peloponnesian war, death was not aggravated by preliminary tortures. Aristotle[325] mentions the oligarchy of the Basilids as having existed in Erythræ, and as having been overthrown by a democratical revolution, although prudently managed: to what period this is to be referred we do not know.
Klazomenæ is said to have been founded by a wandering party, either of Ionians or of inhabitants from Kleonæ and Phlius, under Parphorus or Paralus: and Phôkæa by a band of Phokians under Philogenês and Damon. This last-mentioned town was built at the end of a peninsula which formed part of the territory of the Æolic Kymê: the Kymæans were induced to cede it amicably, and to permit the building of the new town. The Phokians asked and obtained permission to enrol themselves in the Pan-Ionic amphiktyony; but the permission is said to have been granted only on condition that they should adopt members of the Kodrid family as their œkists; and they accordingly invited from Erythræ and Teôs three chiefs belonging to that family or gens,—Deœtês, Periklus, and Abartus.[326]
Smyrna, originally an Æolic colony, established from Kymê fell subsequently into the hands of the Ionians of Kolophôn. A party of exiles from the latter city, expelled during an intestine dispute, were admitted by the Smyrnæans into their city,—a favor which they repaid by shutting the gates and seizing the place for themselves, at a moment when the Smyrnæans had gone forth in a body to celebrate a religious festival. The other Æolic towns sent auxiliaries for the purpose of reëstablishing their dispossessed brethren; but they were compelled to submit to an accommodation, whereby the Ionians retained possession of the town, restoring to the prior inhabitants all their movables. These exiles were distributed as citizens among the other Æolic cities.[327]
Smyrna after this became wholly Ionian; and the inhabitants in later times, if we may judge by Aristeidês the rhetor, appear to have forgotten the Æolic origin of their town, though the fact is attested both by Herodotus and by Mimnermus.[328] At what time the change took place, we do not know; but Smyrna appears to have become Ionian before the celebration of the 23d Olympiad, when Onomastus the Smyrnæan gained the prize.[329] Nor have we information as to the period at which the city was received as a member into the Pan-Ionic amphiktyony, for the assertion of Vitruvius is obviously inadmissible, that it was admitted at the instance of Attalus, king of Pergamus, in place of a previous town called Melitê, excluded by the rest for misbehavior.[330] As little can we credit the statement of Strabo, that the city of Smyrna was destroyed by the Lydian kings, and that the inhabitants were compelled to live in dispersed villages until its restoration by Antigonus. A fragment of Pindar, which speaks of “the elegant city of the Smyrnæans,” indicates that it must have existed in his time.[331] The town of Eræ, near Lebedus, though seemingly autonomous,[332] was not among the contributors to the Pan-Ionian: Myonnêsus seems to have been a dependency of Teôs, as Pygela and Marathêsium were of Ephesus. Notium, after its recolonization by the Athenians during the Peloponnesian war, seems to have remained separate from and independent of Kolophôn: at least the two are noticed by Skylax as distinct towns.[333]
CHAPTER XIV.
ÆOLIC GREEKS IN ASIA.
On the coast of Asia Minor to the north of the twelve Ionic confederated cities, were situated the twelve Æolic cities, apparently united in a similar manner. Besides Smyrna, the fate of which has already been described, the eleven others were,—Têmnos, Larissa, Neon-Teichos, Kymê, Ægæ, Myrina, Gryneium, Killa, Notium, Ægiroëssa, Pitanê. These twelve are especially noted by Herodotus as the twelve ancient continental Æolic cities, and distinguished on the one hand from the insular Æolic Greeks, in Lesbos, Tenedos, and Hekatonnesoi,—and on the other hand from the Æolic establishments in and about Mount Ida, which seem to have been subsequently formed and derived from Lesbos and Kymê.[334]
Of these twelve Æolic towns, eleven were situated very near together, clustered round the Elæitic gulf: their territories, all of moderate extent, seem also to have been conterminous with each other. Smyrna, the twelfth, was situated to the south of Mount Sipylus, and at a greater distance from the remainder,—one reason why it was so soon lost to its primitive inhabitants. These towns occupied chiefly a narrow but fertile strip of territory lying between the base of the woody mountain-range called Sardênê and the sea.[335] Gryneium, like Kolophôn and Milêtus, possessed a venerated sanctuary of Apollo, of older date than the Æolic emigration. Larissa, Têmnos, and Ægæ were at some little distance from the sea: the first at a short distance north of the Hermus, by which its territory was watered and occasionally inundated, so as to render embankments necessary;[336] the last two upon rocky mountain-sites, so inaccessible to attack that the inhabitants were enabled, even during the height of the Persian power, to maintain constantly a substantial independence.[337] Elæa, situated at the mouth of the river Kaïkus, became in later times the port of the strong and flourishing city of Pergamus; while Pitana, the northernmost of the twelve, was placed between the mouth of the Kaïkus and the lofty promontory of Kanê, which closes in the Elæitic gulf to the northward. A small town Kanæ, close to that promontory is said to have once existed.[338]
It has already been stated that the legend ascribes the origin of these colonies to a certain special event called the Æolic emigration, of which chronologers profess to know the precise date, telling us how many years it happened after the Trojan war, considerably before the Ionic emigration.[339] That the Æolic as well as Ionic inhabitants of Asia were emigrants from Greece, we may reasonably believe, but as to the time or circumstances of their emigration we can pretend to no certain knowledge. The name of the town Larissa, and perhaps that of Magnêsia on Mount Sipylus (according to what has been observed in the preceding passage), has given rise to the supposition that the anterior inhabitants were Pelasgians, who, having once occupied the fertile banks of the Hermus, as well as those of the Kaïster near Ephesus, employed their industry in the work of embankment.[340] Kymê was the earliest as well as the most powerful of the twelve Æolic towns, Neon-Teichos having been originally established by the Kymæans as a fortress for the purpose of capturing the Pelasgic Larissa. Both Kymê and Larissa were designated by the epithet of Phrikônis: by some this was traced to the mountain Phrikium in Lokris, from whence it was alleged that the Æolic emigrants had started to cross the Ægean; by others it seems to have been connected with an eponymous hero Phrikôn.[341]
It was probably from Kymê and its sister cities on the Elæitic gulf that Hellenic inhabitants penetrated into the smaller towns in the inland plain of the Kaïkus,—Pergamus, Halisarna, Gambreion, etc.[342] In the more southerly plain of the Hermus, on the northern declivity of Mount Sipylus, was situated the city of Magnêsia, called Magnêsia ad Sipylum, in order to distinguish it from Magnêsia on the river Mæander. Both these towns called Magnêsia were inland,—the one bordering upon the Ionic Greeks, the other upon the Æolic, but seemingly not included in any amphiktyony either with the one or the other. Each is referred to a separate and early emigration either from the Magnêtes in Thessaly or from Krête. Like many other of the early towns, Magnêsia ad Sipylum appears to have been originally established higher up on the mountain,—in a situation nearer to Smyrna, from which it was separated by the Sipylene range,—and to have been subsequently brought down nearer to the plain on the north side as well as to the river Hermus. The original site, Palæ-Magnêsia,[343] was still occupied as a dependent township, even during the times of the Attalid and Seleukid kings. A like transfer of situation, from a height difficult of access to some lower and more convenient position, took place with other towns in and near this region; such as Gambreion and Skêpsis, which had their Palæ-Gambreion and Palæ-Skêpsis not far distant.
Of these twelve Æolic towns, it appears that all except Kymê were small and unimportant. Thucydidês, in recapitulating the dependent allies of Athens at the commencement of the Peloponnesian war, does not account them worthy of being enumerated.[344] Nor are we authorized to conclude, because they bear the general name of Æolians, that the inhabitants were all of kindred race, though a large proportion of them are said to have been Bœotians, and the feeling of fraternity between Bœotians and Lesbians was maintained throughout the historical times; one etymology of the name is, indeed, founded upon the supposition that they were of miscellaneous origin.[345] We do not hear, moreover, of any considerable poets produced by the Æolic continental towns; in this respect Lesbos stood alone,—an island said to have been the earliest of all the Æolic settlements, anterior even to Kymê. Six towns were originally established in Lesbos,—Mitylêne, Mêthymna, Eresus, Pyrrha, Antissa, and Arisbê: the last-mentioned town was subsequently enslaved and destroyed by the Methymnæans, so that there remained only five towns in all.[346] According to the political subdivision usual in Greece, the island had thus, first six, afterwards five, independent governments, of which, however, Mitylênê, situated in the south-eastern quarter and facing the promontory of Kanê, was by far the first, while Mêthymna, on the north of the island over against Cape Lekton, was the second. Like so many other Grecian colonies, the original city of Mitylênê was founded upon an islet divided from Lesbos by a narrow strait; it was subsequently extended on to Lesbos itself, so that the harbor presented two distinct entrances.[347]
It appears that the native poets and fabulists who professed to deliver the archæology of Lesbos, dwelt less upon the Æolic settlers than upon the various heroes and tribes who were alleged to have had possession of the island anterior to that settlement, from the deluge of Deukalion downwards,—just as the Chian and Samian poets seem to have dwelt principally upon the ante-Ionic antiquities of their respective islands. After the Pelasgian Xanthus son of Triopas, comes Makar son of Krinakus, the great native hero of the island, supposed by Plehn to be the eponym of an occupying race called the Makares: the Homeric Hymn to Apollo brings Makar into connection with the Æolic inhabitants by calling him son of Æolus, and the native historian Myrsilus also seems to have treated him as an Æolian.[348] To dwell upon such narratives suited the disposition of the Greeks; but when we come to inquire for the history of Lesbos, we find ourselves destitute of any genuine materials, not only for the period prior to the Æolic occupation, but also for a long time after it: nor can we pretend to determine at what date that occupation took place. We may reasonably believe it to have occurred before 776 B. C., and it therefore becomes a part of the earliest manifestations of real Grecian history: both Kymê, with its eleven sister towns on the continent, and the islands Lesbos and Tenedos, were then Æolic; and I have already remarked that the migration of the father of Hesiod the poet, from the Æolic Kymê to Askra in Bœotia, is the earliest authentic fact known to us on contemporary testimony,—seemingly between 776 and 700 B. C.