I LITERARY ASSOCIATION, -J^-.AJ J ^H REFLECTIONS POLITICS OF ANCIENT GREECE. TRANSLATED FROM THE CERMAF QF ARNOLD H. L. HEEREN BY GEORGE BANCROFT. BOSTON : PI/BUSHED BY CUMM1NGS, BILLIARD & CO. University Prwi-Hilliard & Metcalf. 1824. DISTRICT OF MASSACHUSETTS, TO WIT : Dittrict Clerk 1 * Office. BE it remembered, that on the second day of February, A. D. 1824, and in the forty- eighth yer of the Independence of the United States of America, Cummings, Hilliard & Co. of the said district nae deposited in this office the title of a book, the right whereof they claim as proprietors, in the words following, to \vit : Reflections on the Politics of Ancient Greece. Translated from the German of Arnold H. L. Heeren by George Bancroft. In conformity to the ct of the Congress of the United States, entitled " An act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts, and books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies during the times therein mentioned ;" and also to an net, entitled " An act supplementary to an act, entitled ' An act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of mapi, charts, and books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies, during the tun -s therein mentioned,' and extending the benefits thereof to the arts or designing, engraving, and etching historical and other prints." JOHV W. DAVIS, j TO SAMUEL ATKINS ELIOT, THIS TRANSLATION IS INSCRIBED, WITH SINCERE AFFECTION, BY HIS FELLOW-STUDENT AND FRIEND, GEORGE BANCROFT. rJ'.'O uixv iflttif ji a > c .' jiosTtj THE TRANSLATOR'S THE volume of which a translation is here offered to the public, forms in the original a portion of an extensive work, entitled, " Reflections on the Politics, Intercourse, and Com- merce of the chief Nations of Antiquity." Mr Heeren has accomplished his design only with respect to the nations of Asia and Africa. On those of Europe, he has published nothing further than the present series of essays, which relate solely to subjects connected with the political institutions of the Greeks, and may be regarded as an independent collec- tion of historical sketches. It is on that larger work that the literary reputation of Mr Heeren primarily depends. With respect to the Asiatic and African nations, he has discussed his subject in its full extent, and furnishes a more distinct account of their ancient condi- tion, than has perhaps been given by any other writer. Ear- ly in life he was led to consider the history of the world as influenced by colonial establishments and commerce ; and the results of his investigations, in a department of science to which he is enthusiastically attached, and to which he has uninterruptedly devoted the most precious years of a long life, are communicated in the elaborate production which we have named. In that portion which relates to Asia, after considering the character of the continent itself, he first treats of the Persians, giving a geographical and statistical account of their ancient empire, their form of government, the rights and authority of their kings, the administration of their provinces, and their military resources. VI PREFACE. The Phoenicians next;, pass in review; and a sketch is given of their internal condition and government, their colo- nies and foreign possessions, their commerce, their manufac- tures and inland trade. The country and nation of the Babylonians, and their commerce, form the next subjerts of\:onsideration. The Scythians are then delineated, and a geographical survey of their several tribes is naturally followed by an inquiry into the commerce and intercourse of the nations which inhabited the middle of Asia. In treating of India, it was necessary to consider with care- ful criticism, the knowledge which still remains to us of that distant country, and to collect such fragments of information as can be found respecting its earliest history, political con- stitution, and commerce. The Indians are the most remote Asiatic nation which had an influence on the higher culture of the ancient world, and with them the division which treats of Asia is terminated. To the lover of studies connected with antiquity, the history of the African nations possesses the deepest interest. Beside the physical peculiarities of this singu- lar part of the globe, the Carthaginians present the most remarkable example of the wealth and power which a state may acquire by commerce alone ; and at the same time, it shows most forcibly the changes to which such a state is exposed, when the uncertainty of its resources is increased by a want of the higher virtues, of valour, faith, and religion. In Egypt, on the other hand, the vast antiquity of its political institutions, the veil of uncertainty which hangs over its early condition, connected with the magnificence of its monuments, that have, as it were, been discovered within the recollection of our contemporaries, all serve to render that country a most interesting subject of speculation and critical study. The volume on Africa first introduces the Carthaginians, who had the melancholy fate of becoming famous only by their ruin. Mr Heeren discusses the condition of their Afri- PREFACE. Vli can territory, their foreign provinces and colonies, their form of government, their revenue, their commerce by land and by sea, their military force, and lastly the decline and fall of their state. Before entering upon the consideration of the Egyptians, Mr Heeren ascends the Nile, and presents us with a geograph- ical sketch of the Ethiopian nations, an account of the state of Meroe, and of the commerce of Meroe and Ethiopia. The Egyptians are then considered. A general view of their country and its inhabitants, its political condition and its commerce, these are the topics, under which he treats of that most ancient people. The whole is concluded by an analysis of the monuments which yet remain of Egyptian Thebes. These are the subjects which are discussed in the " Re- flections of Heeren," a work which deservedly holds a high rank among the best historical productions of our age. The volume on Greece is more nearly connected with our asso- ciations and studies, and may serve as a specimen of the man- ner in which the whole is executed. Were a version of the other parts to be published, it would form three octavo volumes somewhat larger than the present. Mr Heeren's style is uniformly clear, and there are few of his countrymen, whose works so readily admit of being translated. We may add, there are few so uniformly distinguished for sound sense and a rational and liberal method of studying the monuments of antiquity. He is entirely free from any undue fondness for philosophical speculations, but recommends himself by his perspicuity, moderation, and flowing style. The business of translating is but an humble one j and yet it may be the surest method of increasing the number of good books which are in the hands of our countrymen. None can be offered more directly interesting to them, than those which relate to political institutions. Holding as we do our destinies and our national character and prosperity in our own hands, it becomes us to contemplate the revolutions of gov- ernments ; to study human nature, as exhibited in its grandest features in the changes of nations ; to consider not only the politics of the present age, but gaining some firm ground, such as history points out, to observe with careful attention the wrecks of other institutions and other times. The present volume may perhaps do- something to call public attention to the merits and true character of the ancient Greeks. The admirers of Grecian eloquence will be pleased to find in one of the chapters, an outline of the political career of Demosthenes. His reputation is there vindicated from the calumnies that have so long been heaped upon one of the noblest, most per- severing, most disinterested advocates of the cause of suffer- ing liberty. The Translator hopes the work will prove acceptable to scholars and those who have leisure for the study of history ; and that it will be received by them as an earnest of his desire to do something, however little it may be, for the advance' ment of learning in our common country. Northampton, Massachusetts, Dec. ISth, 1S23. ERRATA. Page 47, three lines from top, for its read their " 77, five " " " Strides " the ^tridte " 133, ten lines from bottom, for poetry " the plastic art " 183, three lines from top, for constitutions " constitutions? " six " " " adopted " adopted f " 302, ten V " claims " chains TABLE OF CONTENTS. General Preliminary Remarks - 1 CHAPTER FIRST. Geographical View of Greece - - 15 CHAPTER SECOND. Earliest Condition of the Nation and its Branches - 42 CHAPTER THIRD. Original Sources of the Culture of the Greeks - 49 CHAPTER FOURTH, The Heroic Age. The Trojan War 82 CHAPTER FIFTH. The Period following the Heroic Age. Emigrations. Origin of Republican Forms of Government, and their Character - 99 CHAPTER .SIXTH. Homer. The Epic Poets 107 CHAPTER SEVENTH. Means of preserving the National Character - 125 CHAPTER EIGHTH. The Persian Wars and their Consequences - 143 X CONTENTS. CHAPTER NINTH. Constitutions of the Grecian States - 159 CHAPTER TENTH. The Political Economy of the Greeks - 185 CHAPTER ELEVENTH. The Judicial Institutions - 219 CHAPTER TWELFTH. The Army and Navy - 230 CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. Statesmen and Orators - 257 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. The Sciences in connexion with the State 283 CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. Poetry and the Arts in connexion with the State - 319 CHAPTER SIXTEENTH. Causes of the Fall of Greece 344 GENERAL PRELIMINARY REMARKS. To the student of the history of man, there is hardly a phenomenon more important in itself, or more difficult of explanation, th^n the superiority of Europe over the other parts of our earth. With whatever justice other lands and nations may be esti- mated, it cannot be denied that the noblest and best of every thing, which man has produced, sprung up, or at least ripened, on European soil. In the multitude, variety, and beauty of their natural productions, Asia and Africa far surpass Europe ; but in every thing which is the work of man, the nations of Europe stand far above those of the other continents. It was among them, that, by making marriage the union of but two individuals, domestic society obtained that form, with- out which so many parts of our nature could never have been ennobled ; and if slavery was established among them, they alone abolished it, because they recognised its injustice. It was chiefly and almost exclusively among them that such constitutions were framed, as are suited to nations who have become con- scious of their rights. If Asia, during all the changes in its extensive empires, does but show the continued 1 2 PRELIMINARY REMARKS. reproduction of despotism, it was on European soil that the germ of political freedom unfolded itself, and under the most various forms, in so many parts of the same, bore the noblest fruits ; which again were transplanted from thence to other parts of the world. The simplest inventions of the mechanic arts may perhaps belong in part to the East ; but how have they all been perfected by Europeans. What a re- moval from the loom of the Hindoo, to those weaving machines which are carried by steam ; from the sun- dial to the chronometer, from the Chinese bark to the British man-of-war. And if we direct our attention to those nobler arts, which, as it were, raise human nature above itself, what a distance between the Jupiter of Phidias and an Indian idol ; between the transfiguration of Raphael and the works of a Chinese painter. The East had its annalists, but never pro- duced a Tacitus, or a Gibbon ; it had its potts, but never advanced to criticism ; it had its sages, who not unfrequently produced a powerful effect on their na- tions by means of their doctrines ; but still a Plato or a Kant could never ripen on the banks of the Ganges and the Hoangho. Nor can we less admire that political superiority, which the nations of this small region, just emerging from the savage life, immediately established over the extensive countries of the large continents. The East has seen powerful conquerors ; but it was only in Europe that generals appeared, who invented a science of war really worthy of the name. Hardly had a kingdom in Macedonia of limited extent out- grown its childhood, before Macedonians ruled on the Indus as on the Nile. The imperial city was the PRELIMINARY REMARKS. 3 heiress of the imperial nation ; Asia and Africa pros- trated themselves before the Caesars. Even in the centuries of the middle age, when the intellectual superiority of the Europeans seemed to have sunk, the nations of the East attempted to subjugate them in vain. The Mongolians advanced into Silesia ; nothing but the wastes of Russia remained for a time in their power; the Arabs desired to overrun the West ; the sword of Charles Martel compelled them to rest contented with a part of Spain ; and the chivalrous Frank, under the banner of the cross, soon bade them defiance in their own home. And how did the fame of the Europeans extend its beams over the earth, when, through Columbus and Vasco de Gama, the morning of a fairer day began to dawn for them. The new world at once became their prey ; more than a third part of Asia submitted to the Russian sceptre ; merchants on the Thames and the Zuyder See seized on the government of India ; and if the Turks have thus far been successful in preserving the country which they have robbed from Europe, will it remain to them forever ? will it remain to them long? Those conquests may have been made with severity and acts of cruelty ; but the Europeans became not only the tyrants, they also became the instructers of the world. The civilization of mankind seems to be more and more closely connected with their progress ; and if, in these times of general revolution, any consoling pros- pect for the future is opened, is it not the triumph of European culture in other than the countries of Europe ? From whence proceeds this superiority, this univer- sal sovereignty of so small a region as Europe ? Here 4 PRELIMINARY REMARKS. an important truth presents itself at once. Not un- disciplined strength, not the mere physical force of the collective body, it was intelligence which produced it ; and if the skill of the Europeans in the art of war laid the foundations of their sovereignty, it was their superior political science, which maintained it for them. But the question which employs us, remains still unanswered : for we desire to know the causes of this intellectual superiority of the Europeans; and why the faculties of human nature were unfold- ed among them so much more extensively, and so much more beautifully? To such a question no perfectly satisfactory answer can be given. The phenomenon is in itself much too rich, much too great for that. It will be readily con- ceded, that it could only be the consequence of many cooperating causes ; some of these causes can be sep- arately enumerated ; and therefore may afford some explanation of it. But to enumerate them all, to show this influence singly and when united, this' could only be done by a master spirit, to whom it should be granted, from a higher point of view than any to which a mortal can attain, to contemplate the whole web of the history of our race, the course and the tangles of the various threads. And here one important circumstance excites atten- tion ; and yet a circumstance, of which the cautious in- quirer hardly ventures to fix the value. Whilst we see the surface of the other continents covered with nations of different, and almost always of dark colour, (and, in so far as this determines the race, of different races) ; the inhabitants of Europe belong only to one race. It has not now, and it never had, any other native inhabi- PRELIMINARY REMARKS. 5 tants than the white nations.* Is the white man distin- guished by greater natural talents ? Has he by means of them an advantage over his coloured brethren? This is a question, which physiology cannot answer, and to which history must reply with timidity. Who will directly deny, that the difference of organi- zation, which we so variously observe to attend on the difference in colour, can have an influence on the more rapid or more tardy unfolding of the mind? But who can, on the other hand, demonstrate this in- fluence, without first raising that secret veil, which conceals from us the reciprocal connexion between body and mind ? And yet we must esteem it proba- ble ; and how much does this probability increase in strength, if we make inquiries of history ? The great superiority, which the white nations in all ages and countries have possessed, is a matter of fact, which cannot be denied. It may be said, this was the con- sequence of external circumstances, which favoured them more. But has this always been so? And why has it been so ? And further, why did those darker nations, which rose above the savage state, attain only to a degree of culture of their own ; a degree, which was passed neither by the Egyptian nor by the Mongolian, neither by the Chinese nor the Hindoo ? And among them, why did the black remain behind the brown and the yellow ? If these observations can- not but make us inclined to attribute a greater or smaller capacity to the several branches of our race, they do not on that account prove an absolute want of capacity in our darker fellow-ihen, nor must they be * The Gipsies are foreigners ; and it may seem doubtful how far the Laplanders are to be reckoned in the white or yellow race. 6 PRELIMINARY REMARKS. urged as the sole cause. Thus much only is intend- ed, that experience thus far seems to prove, that a greater facility for developing the powers of mind be- longs to the nations of a clear colour ; but we will welcome the age, which shall contradict experience in this point, and which shall exhibit to us cultivated nations of negroes. But however high or low this natural precedency of the Europeans may be estimated, no one can fail of observing, that the physical qualities of this con- tinent offer peculiar advantages, which may serve not a little to explain the abovementioned phenomenon. Europe belongs almost entirely to the northern, temperate zone. Its most important lands lie between the fortieth and sixtieth degree of north latitude. Farther to the north nature gradually dies. Thus our continent has in no part the luxuriant fruitfulness of tropic regions ; but also no such ungrateful climate, as to make the care for the mere preservation of life swallow up the whole strength of its inhabitants. Europe, except where local causes put obstacles in the way, is throughout susceptible of agriculture. It invites men to till it, or rather it in some measure compels them ; for it is as little adapted to the chase as to pasturing. Although its inhabitants have at various periods changed their places of abode, they were never wandering tribes. They emigrated to con- quer ; to make other establishments where booty or superior fertility attracted them. No European na- tion ever lived in tents ; the well wooded plains offered in abundance the materials for constructing those huts, which the inclement skies required. Its soil and climate were peculiarly fitted to accustom men to PRELIMINARY REMARKS. 7 that regular industry, which is the source of all pros, perity. If Europe could boast of but few distinguished productions ; perhaps of no one which was exclusively its own ; and if it was necessary to transplant its choicest products from distant regions, this produced again the necessity of cherishing or nursing them. Thus art became united to nature, and this union is the mother of the gradual improvement of our race. Without exertion the circle of human ideas can never be en- larged ; but at the same time the mere preservation of man must not lay claim to the exercise of all his faculties. A degree of fruitfulness, sufficient to re- ward the pains of culture, is spread almost equally over Europe ; there are no vast tracts of perfect bar- renness ; no deserts like those of Arabia and Africa ; and the extensive level lands, which are besides richly supplied with water, begin only in the eastern districts. Mountains of a moderate elevation usually interrupt the plains ; in every direction there is an agreeable interchange of hill and valley ; and if nature does not exhibit the luxurious pomp of the torrid zone, her awakening in spring compensates for this by charms which do not belong to the splendid uniformity of tropic climes. It is true, that a similar climate is shared by a large portion of middle Asia ; and it may be asked, why, in- stead of the same, opposite appearances should be there exhibited, where the shepherd nations of Tar- tary and Mongolia seem to have made no advance- ment, so long as they remained in their own countries without stationary settlements ? But by the charac- ter of its soil, by the succession of mountains and valleys, the number of its navigable rivers, and above 8 PRELIMINARY REMARKS. all, by its coasts on the Mediterranean, Europe dis- tinguishes itself from those regions in so remarkable a manner, that this similar temperature of the air, (which is moreover not perfectly equal under equal degrees of latitude, since Asia is colder,) can afford no foundation for a comparison. But can we derive from this physical difference, those moral advantages, which were produced by the better regulation of domestic society ? With this begins in some measure the history of the first culture of our continent ; tradition has not forgotten to inform us, that Cecrops, when he founded his colony among the savage inhabitants of Attica, instituted at the same time regular marriages ; and who has not learned of Tacitus the holy custom of our German ancestors ? Is it merely the character of the climate, which caus- es both sexes to ripen more gradually, and at the same time more nearly simultaneously, and a cooler blood to flow in the veins of man ; or is a more delicate sentiment impressed upon the European, a higher moral nobility, which determines the relation of the two sexes ? Be this as it may, who does not perceive the decisive importance of the fact ? Does not the wall of division which separates the inhabitants of the East from those of the West, repose chiefly on this basis ? And can it be doubted, that this better domestic institution was essential to the progress of our political institutions ? For we make with con- fidence the remark ; no nation, where polygamy was established has ever obtained a free and well ordered constitution. Whether these causes alone, or whether others be- side them (for who will deny that there may have been PRELIMINARY REMARKS. 9 others?) procured for the Europeans their superiority; thus much is certain, that all Europe may now boast of this superiority. If the nations of the South pre- ceded those of the North ; if these were still wander- ing in their forests when those had already obtained their ripeness, they finally made up for their dila- toriness. Their time also came ; the time when they could look down on their southern brethren with a just consciousness of superiority. This leads us to the important differences, which are peculiar to the North and the South of this continent. A chain of mountains, which, though many arms extend to the North and South, runs in its chief direc- tion from West to East, the chain of the Alps, con- nected in the west with the Pyrenees by the mountains of Sevennes, extending to the Carpathian and the Balkan towards the east as far as the shores of the Black sea, divides this continent into two very unequal parts, the Southern and the Northern. It separates the three peninsulas which run to the south, those of the Pyrenees, Italy? and Greece, together with the southern coast of France and Germany, from the great content of Europe, which extends to the north beyond the polar circle. This last, which is by far the larger half, contains almost all the chief streams of this continent ; the Ebro, the Rhone, and the Po, are alone important for navigation, of all that empty themselves into the Mediterranean sea. No other chain of mountains of our earth has had such an influence on the history of our race, as the chain of the Alps. During a long succession of ages, it parted, as it were, two worlds from each other ; the fairest buds of civilization had already opened under the 10 PRELIMINARY REMARKS. Grecian and Hesperian skies, whilst scattered tribes of barbarians were yet wandering in the forests of the North. How different would have been the whole history of Europe, had the wall of the Alps, instead of being near the Mediterranean, been removed to the shores of the North sea? This boundary, it is true, seems of less moment in our time ; when the enterprising spirit of the European has built a road across the Alps, just as it has found a path over the ocean ; but it was of decisive importance for the age of which we are speaking, for antiquity .* The North and South were then physically, morally, and politi- cally divided ; that chain long remained the protect- ing bulwark of the one against the other ; and if Caesar, finally breaking over these boundaries, re- moved in some measure the political landmarks, the distinction still continues apparent between the Roman part of Europe, and that which never yielded to the Romans. It is therefore only the southern part of our hemis- phere, which can employ us in our present inquiries. Its limited extent, which seemed to afford no room for powerful nations, was amply compensated by its climate and situation. What traveller from the North ever descended the southern side of the Alps without being excited by the view of the novel scenery that surrounded him ? The more beautiful blue of the Italian and Grecian sky, the milder air, the more graceful forms of the mountains, the pomp of the rocky shores and the islands, the dark tints of the forests glittering with golden fruits do these exist merely in the songs of the poets ? Although the tropic climes are still distant, a foretaste of them PRELIMINARY REMARKS. 11 is enjoyed even here. The aloe grows wild in Lower Italy ; the sugar-cane thrives in Sicily ; from the top of jEtna, the eye can discern the rocks of Malta, where the fruit of the palm-tree ripens, and in the azure distance, even the coasts of neighbouring Africa.* Here nature never partakes of the uni- formity, which so long repressed the spirit of the natives that inhabited the forests and plains of the North. In all these countries there is a constant interchange of moderately elevated moun- tains with pleasant valleys and level lands, over which Pomona has scattered her choicest blessings. The limited extent of the countries allows no large navigable rivers ; but what an indemnification for this is found in its seacoasts, so extensive, and so rich in bays. The Mediterranean sea belongs to the South of Europe ; and it was by means of that sea, that the nations of the West first assumed the rank, which they did. Let an extensive heath occupy its place, and like the nomades of middle Asia, we should yet be wandering Tartars and Mongolians. Of the nations of the South, only three can engage our attention ; the Greeks, Macedonians, and Romans, the masters of Italy and then of the world. We have named them in the order in which history presents them to us as distinguished nations, although distin- guished in different ways. We shall follow the same order in treating of them. * Reise durch Sicilien. B. II. p. 338 44Q. GREECE. GREECE. CHAPTER I. GEOGRAPHICAL VIEW OF GREECE. WERE any one, who is entirely unacquainted with the history of the Greeks, to examine the map with attention, he could hardly remain in doubt that their country, in point of situation, is favoured by nature beyond any other in Europe. It is the most southern of that continent. The promontory of Taenarium, iu which it terminates, lies under almost the same degree of latitude with the celebrated rock of Calpe ; and its northern boundary falls somewhat to the south of Madrid. In this manner it extends from that prom- ontory to Olympus and the Cambuniah mountains, which divide it from Macedonia, about two hundred and twenty-five miles from south to north.* Its east- ern point is the promontory of Sunium in Attica ; from thence its greatest breadth, to the promontory of Leucas in the west, is about one hundred and sixty miles. The greatness of the nation and the variety of its achievements easily lead to the error of believing the country an extensive one. But even if we add all the islands, its square contents are a third less than * From 36 to 40 degrees north latitude. 16 CHAPTER FIRST. those of Portugal. But what advantages of situatioa does it not possess over the Iberian peninsula. If this, according to the ideas of the ancients, was the west- ern extremity of the world, as the distant Serica was the eastern, Greece was as it were in the centre of the most cultivated countries of three continents. A short passage by sea divided it from Italy ; and the voyage to Egypt, Asia Minor, and Phoenicia, though somewhat longer, seemed hardly more dangerous. Nature herself, in this land of such moderate ex- tent, established the geographical divisions, by sepa- rating the peninsula of the Peloponnesus from the main land ; and by dividing the latter into nearly equal parts, northern and southern, by the chain of (Eta, which traverses it obliquely. In every direction hills are interchanged with valleys and fruitful plains ; and if in its narrow compass no large rivers are found (the Peneus and Achelous are the only considerable ones), its extensive coasts, abundantly provided with bays, landing-places, and natural harbours, afford more than an equivalent. The peninsula of Pelops, so called in honour of Pelops, who, according to the tradition, introduced, not war, but the gifts of peace from Ar,ia Minor, is about equal in extent to Sicily, and forms the south- ernmost district. It consists in its centre of a high ridge of hills, which sends out several branches, and some as far as the sea ; but between these branches there are fruitful plains well watered by an abundance of streams, which pour from the mountains in every di- rection. This high inland district, which no where borders on the sea, is the far-famed Arcadia of poet- ical tradition. Its highest peak, the mountain Cyllene, GEOGRAPHICAL VIEW OF GREECE. 17 rises, according to Strabo, from fifteen to twenty stadia above the sea.* Nature has destined this country for herdsmen. " The pastures and meadows in summer are always green and unscorched ; for the shade and moisture preserve them. The country has an appearance similar to that of Switzerland, and the Arcadians in some measure resemble the inhabitants of the Alps. They possessed a love of freedom and a love of money ; for wherever there was money, you might see Arcadian hirelings. But it is chiefly the western part of Arcadia (where Pan invented the shepherd's flute), which deserves the name of a pas- toral country. Innumerable brooks, one more delight- ful than the other, sometimes rushing impetuously and sometimes gently murmuring, pour themselves down the mountains. Vegetation is rich and magnificent ; every where freshness and coolness are found. One flock of sheep here succeeds another, till the banks of the wild Taygetus are approached ; where numerous herds of goats are seen also."f The inhabitants of Arcadia, devoted to the pastoral life, preferred there- fore for a long time to dwell in the open country rather than in cities ; and when some of these, par- ticularly Tegea and Mantinea, became considerable, the contests between them destroyed the peace and liberties of the people. The shepherd life among the Greeks, although much ornamented by the poets, be- trays its origin in this ; that it arose among a people, who did not wander like the Nomades, but were in possession of stationary dwellings. * Strabo, 1. viii. p. 267. ed. Casaub. The indefinite nature of the account shows how uncertain it is. t Bartholdy. BruchstQcke zu nahern Keuntniss Griechenlands, p. 239-241. 3 18 CHAPTER FIRST. Round Arcadia seven districts were situated, almost all of which were well watered by streams, that de- scended from its highlands. In the south lay the land of heroes, Laconia, rough and mountainous, but thick- ly settled ; so that it is said to have contained nearly a hundred towns or villages.* It was watered by the Eurotas, the clearest and purest of all the Grecian rivers, f which had its rise in Arcadia, and was in- creased by several smaller streams. Sparta was built upon its banks, the mistress of the country? without walls, without gates ; defended only by its citizens. It was one of the larger cities of Greece ; but, not- withstanding the market-place, the theatre, and the various temples which Pausanias enumerates, J it was not one of the most splendid. The monuments of fallen heroes^ constituted the principal ornament of the banks of the Eurotas, which were then and still are covered with the laurel. || But all these monu- ments have perished ; there is a doubt even as to the spot where ancient Sparta was situated. It was for- merly thought to be the modern Misitra ; this opinion has been given up ; a more recent traveller believes, that about six miles from thence he has discovered, in the ruins of Mogula, the traces of the ancient theatre and some of the temples. ^ At the distance of four miles lay Amyclae, celebrated for the oracle of Apollo, * Manso has enumerated siity-seven : Sparta, i. 2. p. 15. t Bartboldy. BruchstQcke, fcc. p. 228. J Pausan. Hi. p. 240. ed. Kuhn. See the long list of them in Pausanias, p. 240, 243, kc. || Pouqueville. Voyage i. p. 189. f See Chateaubriand. Itineraire de Paris a Jerusalem, i. p. 26. This travel- ler was but one hour in going from Misitra to Mogula, by way of Palaiochoros, but it was done on horseback and in a gallop. Those discoveries belong to M. Chateaubriand; he remarks, however, that others before him had suppos- ed Palaiochoros to be the site of ancient Sparta. GEOGRAPHICAL VIEW OF GREECE. 19 but not a trace of the sanctuary is now visible ; and a road 'of twelve miles led from Sparta to Gythium, its harbour in that period of its history, where, mis- taking its true policy, it built a fleet. On the west and north, Laconia was surrounded by the Taygetus, which separated it from the fruitful plains of Messe- nia. This country was soon overpowered by Sparta,* which, having thus doubled its territory, easily be- came the largest of all the Grecian cities. But though it remained for a long time in the quiet possession of Messenia, the day of retribution came, when Epami- nondas, its restorer, crushed the power of humbled Sparta. A neck of land, called Argolis, from its capital city Argos, extends in a southerly direction from Arcadia fifty-four miles into the sea, where it terminates in the promontory of Scillaeum. Many and important asso- ciations of the heroic age are connected with this country. Here was Tiryns, from whence Hercules departed at the commencement of his labours ; here was Mycenae, the country of Agamemnon, the most powerful and most unhappy of kings ; here \vds Nemea, celebrated for its games instituted in honour of Neptune. But the glory of its early history does not seem to have animated Argos. No Themistocles, no Agesilaus was ever counted among its citizens ; and, though it possessed a territory of no inconsiderable ex- tent, it never assumed a rank among the first of the Grecian states, but was rather the passive object of foreign policy. In the west of the Peloponnesus lay Elis, the holy land. Its length from south to north, if the small *Io the second Messenian war, which ended 668 years before Christ. 20 CHAPTER FIRST. southern district of Triphylia be reckoned, amounted to fifty-four miles ; its breadth in the broadest part was not more than half as much. Several rivers, which had their rise in the Arcadian mountains, water- ed its fruitful plains. Among them the Alpheus was the largest and the most famous ; the Olympic games were celebrated on its banks. Its fountains were not far distant from those of the Eurotas ; and as the lat- ter, taking a southerly direction, flowed through the land of war, the former in a westerly one passed through the land of peace. For here, in the country sacred to Jove, where the nation of the Hellenes assem- bled in festive pomp and saluted each other as one people, no bloody feuds were suffered to profane the soil. Armies were indeed permitted to pass through the consecrated land ; but they were first deprived of their arms, which they did not again receive till they left it.* This is the glory of the Greeks, that they honoured the nobler feelings of humanity, where other nations were unmindful of them. They flour- ished so long as they possessed self-government enough to do this ; they fell when sacred things ceas- ed to be sacred. The country of Elis embraced three divisions. The woody Triphylia was in the south, and contained that Pylus, which, according to the judgment of Strabo, could lay a better claim than either of the other two towns of the same name, to have been the country of Nestor, f The northern division was Elis, a plain en- closed by the rough mountains Pholoe and Scollis. * Strabo, viii. p. 247. t Strabo, viii. p. 242. The two other towns were situated, one in north era Elis, the other in Messenia. GEOGRAPHICAL VIEW OF GREECE. 21 both, branches of the Arcadian Erymanthus, and watered by the Selleis and the Elian Peneus, on the banks of which the city was built that gave a name to the whole region, over which it also exercised supreme authority ; for the district of the Elians, embracing both Pisatis and Triphylia, extended to the borders of Messenia.* The middle territory, Pisatis, so call- ed from the city Pisa, was the most important of all, for it contained Olympia. Two roads from Elis led thither, one near the sea through the plain, another through the mountains ; the distance was from thirty to thirty-five miles. f The name Olympia designated the country round the city Pisaf (which even in Stra- bo's time was no longer in existence), where every five years those games were celebrated, which the Elians established after the subjugation of the Pisans, and at which they presided. If this privilege gave to them, as it were, all their importance in the eyes of the Greeks ; if their country thus became the common centre ; if it was the first in Greece with respect to works of art and perhaps to wealth ; if their safety, their prosperi- ty, their fame, and in some measure their existence as an independent state, were connected with the temple of Jupiter Olympius and its festivals ; need we be astonished, if no sacrifice seemed to them too great, by which the glory of Olympia was to be increased ? Here on the banks of the Alpheus stood the sacred grove, called Altis, of olive and plane trees, surrounded * Strabo, viii. p. 247, relates the manner in which it came to be extended thus far by the assistance of the Spartans in the Messenian war. t According to Strabo, 1. c. 300 stadia. t Barthelemy is not strictly accurate, when he calls (iv. p. 207) Pisa and Olympia one city. Pisa was but six stadia (not quite a mile) from the temple ; Schol. Find, ad 01. x. 55. I have never met with any mention of a city Olympia. 22 CHAPTER FIRST. by an enclosure ; a sanctuary of the arts, such as the world has never since beheld. For what are all our cabinets and museums, compared with this one spot? Its centre was occupied by the national temple of the Hellenes, the temple of Olympian Jove,* in which was the colossal statue of that god, the masterpiece of Phidias. No other work of art in antiquity was so generally acknowledged to have been the first, even whilst all other inventions of Grecian genius were still uninjured ; and need we hesitate to regard it as the first of all the works of art, of which we have any knowledge ? Besides this temple, the grove contained those of Juno and Lucina, the theatre and the pryta- neum ; in front of it, or perhaps within its precints,f was the stadium together with the race-ground, or hip- podromus. The whole forest was filled with monu- ments and statues, erected in honour of gods, heroes, and conquerors. Pausanias mentions more than two hundred and thirty statues ; of Jupiter alone he describes twenty three,! and these were, for the most part, works of the first artists ; for how could any * The temple of Jupiter Olympius, built by the Elians in the age of Pericles, had nearly the same dimensions as the Parthenon at Athens ; 230 feet in length, 95 in breadth, and 68 in height. The colossal statue of Jupi- ter, represented as seated, nearly touched the roof of the temple, as Strabo relates ; and is said to have been 60 feet high. Compare : Volkel Uber den grossen Tempel und die Statue des Jupiters in Olympia, 1794. t According to Strabo, in the Altis : Barth61emy says, in front of it. We are still much in the dark respecting the situation of ancient Olympia. What Chandler says is unimportant. The only modern traveller, who has made accurate investigations, is M. Fauvel. But I am unacquainted with his com- munication to the National Institute, Precis de ses voyages dans It continent de la Grece, only from the short notice contained in Millin, Magazin Ency- clop. 1802, T. II. He found, it is there said, not only the remains of the temple of Jupiter, by also of the Hippodromus. t Pausanias, v. p. 434, &c. has enumerated and described that number. Among them there was a Colossus' of bronze, 27 feet high. GEOGRAPHICAL VIEW OF GREECE. 23 poor production gain admittance, where even indiffe- rent ones were despised ? Pliny estimates the whole number of these statues in his time, at three thou- sand.* To this must be added the treasuries (3->?2 GEOGRAPHICAL VIEW OF GREECE. 29 protectress of cities, with the column which fell from heaven, and the sacred olive-tree ; and that of Nep- tune. But on the right, the Parthenon, the pride of Athens, rose above every thing else, possessing the colossal statue of Minerva by Phidias, next to the Olympian Jupiter, the noblest of his works. At the foot of the hill on the one side was the Odeum, and the theatre of Bacchus, where the tragic contests were celebrated on the festivals of the god, and those immortal masterpieces were represented, which, hav- ing remained to us, double our regret for those which are lost ; on the other side was the Prytaneum, where the chief magistrates and most meritorious citizens were honoured by a table, provided at the public expense. A moderate valley, Crele, was interposed between the Acropolis and the hill on which the Areopagus held its assemblies, and again between this and the hill of the Pnyx, where the collected people was accustomed to decide on the affairs of the republic. Here the spot from which Pericles and Demosthenes harangued, is still distinct (it is imper- ishable, since it is hewn in the rock) ; not long ago it was cleared from rubbish, together with the four steps which led to it.* If any desire a more copious enumeration of the temples, the halls, and the works of art, which deco- rated the city of Pallas, they may find it in Pau- sanias. Even in his time, how much, if not the larger part, yet the best, had been removed ; how much had been injured and destroyed in the' wars ; and yet when we read what was still there, we naturally ask with respect to Athens (as with res- * Chateaubriand. Itineraire, vol. i. p. 184. 3O CHAPTER FIRST. pect to so many other Grecian cities), where could all this have found room ? The whole country round Athens, particularly the long road to the Piraeeus, was ornamented with monuments of all kinds, espe- cially with the tombs of great poets, warriors, and statesmen, who did not often remain after death with- out expressions of public gratitude, which were given so much the less frequently during their lives. A double wall, called the Northern and Southern, enclosed the road, which was nearly five miles long, on both sides, and embraced the two harbours of Piraeeus and Phalereus. This wall, designed and executed by Themistocles, was one of the most impor- tant works of the Athenians. It was forty Grecian ells in height, built entirely of freestone, and so broad, that two baggage-wagons could pass each other. The Piraeeus, to which it led, formed (as did Phalerae) a city by itself with its own public squares, temples, market-places, and the commercial crowd which en- livened it ; and it seemed perhaps even more animat- ed than Athens.* Its harbour, well provided with docks and magazines, was spacious enough to hold in its three divisions four hundred triremes ; whilst the Phalereus and Munychius could each accommodate only about fifty.f All three were formed naturally by the bays of the coast ; but the Piraeeus excelled the others not only in extent, but also in security. The plain of Athens was surrounded on three sides by mountains, which formed its limits within no *The Pirseeus was sometimes reckoned as a part of Athens ; and this explains how it was possible to say, that the city was two hundred stadia in circumference. Dio Chrysost. Or. vi. t The rich compilations of Meursius on the Piraeus, no less than on Athens, the Acropolis, the Ceramicus, fcc. (Gronov. Thes. Ant. Gr. vol. ii. iii.) contain almost all the passages of the ancients respecting them. GEOGRAPHICAL VIEW OF GREECE. 31 very great distance of the city. The prospect from the Acropolis and the Parthenon commanded on the east the two peaks of Hymettus ; on the north, Pen- telicus with its quarries of marble; to the northwest, the Cithseron was seen at a great distance, rising above the smaller mountains ; and Laurium, rich in silver mines, lay to the southeast almost at the end of the peninsula ; but towards the southwest, the eye could freely range over the harbours and the Saronic bay, with the islands of Salamis and ^Egina, as far as the elevated citadel of Corinth.* Many of the chief places of the cantons (^o<), into which Attica was divided, (and of these there were more than one hundred and seventy) might also be seen; and the situation was distinct even of the towns, which covered the mountains. No one of these was impor- tant as a city, and yet there were few, which had not something worthy of observation, their statues, altars, and temples ; for to whatever part of his country the Athenian strayed, he needed to behold something, which might remind him that he was in Attica. There were many, of which the name alone awakened proud recollections ; and no one was so far from Athens, that more than a day needed to be spent on the road to it. It required but about five hours to reach the long but narrow plainf of Marathon, on the opposite coast of Attica. It was twenty-five miles to Sunium which lay at the southern extremity of the peninsula, and about twenty miles to the boundary of Bceotia. * Chateaubriand. Itioeraire, etc. i. p. 206. t Chandler's Travels, p. 163. 32 CHAPTER FIRST. This country, so frequently enveloped in clouds, jay to the northwest of Attica, and exhibited, in almost every respect, a different character. Bceotia was shut in by the chain of Helicon, Cithaeron, Parnassus, and, towards the sea, Ptoas ; which mountains enclosed a large plain, constituting the chief part of the country. Numerous rivers, of which the Cephissus was the most important,* descending from the heights, had probably stagnated for a long time, and had formed lakes, of which Copais is the largest. This lake must have subterraneous outlets; for while the canals, through which its waters were anciently distributed, have fallen into decay, it has so far decreased in modern times, that it is now almost dried to a swamp.f But these same rivers appear to have formed the soil of Bceotia, which is among the most fruitful in Greece. Bceotia was also perhaps the most thickly settled part of Greece ; for no other could show an equal number of important cities. The names of almost all of them are frequently mentioned in history ; for it was the will of destiny, that the fate of Greece should often be decided in Bozotia. Its freedom was won at Platseae, and lost at Chaeronea ; the Spartans conquer- ed at Tanagra, and at Leuctra their power was crushed forever. Thebes with its seven gates, (more distinguished for its extent than its buildings) esteem- ed itself the head of the Boeotian cities, although it was not acknowledged to be such by all the rest This usurpation on the part of Thebes, of a suprem- * Distinct from the Cephissus in Attica. t Bartholdy. BruchstOcke, &c. p. 230. GEOGRAPHICAL VIEW OF GREECE. 33 acy over Bceotia, was of decisive importance in seve- ral periods of Grecian history. Boeotia was divided by mount Cithaeron from ^ Attica, arid by Parnassus from Phocis. This district, of moderate size and irregular shape, extended to the south along the bay of Corinth ; and was bounded on the north by the chain of (Eta. Here are those passes which led from Boeotia to Attica. Of these, the most important is near the city Elatea, and on that account was early occupied by Philip on his second invasion of Greece. The desolate mountain of Parnassus, once associated with the fame of Phocis, presents to the traveller of our times, nothing but recollections. Del- phi lay on the south side of it, overshadowed by its double peak ; and not far- above the city was the temple with the oracle of Apollo. Here the master- pieces of art were displayed in countless abundance under the protection of the god ; together with the costly and consecrated offerings of nations, cities,* and kings. Here in the Amphictyonic council, still more costly treasures, the first maxims of the laws of nations were matured for the Greeks. Hither on the festival days, when the great games of the Pythian deity recurred (games surpassed only by those of Olympia), pilgrims and spectators poured in throngs; here at the Castalian fountain, the songs of the poets resounded in solemn rivalship ; and, more exciting than all, the acclamations of the multitude. But those blossoms all have perished In the north's destroying blast ! * Many of them had, as at Olympia, treasuries of their own. Pliny, xxxiv. 17. estimates the number of statues at Delphi, as at Olympia and Ath- ns, to have been even in his time 3000. 5 34 CHAPTER FIRST. Not even ruins have been spared to us by time. Only one monument of doubtful character seems to designate the spot, where CEdipus slew his father Laius ; and whilst every vestige of greatness and glory has vanished, nothing but the memory of a crime is perpetuated.* Phocis and mount Parnassus divide the two parts of Locris from each other. The eastern part, inhab- ited by the two tribes which took their names from the city Opus and mount Cnemis.f lies along the Euripus, or the long strait, which divides the island Euboea from Boeotia ; and would have almost nothing to show, that is worthy of commemoration, were it not that the inseparable names of Thermopylae and Leonidas produce an emotion in every noble mind. " At Thermopylae," says Herodotus,J f a steep and inaccessible mountain rises on the west side in the direction of (Eta ; but on the east side of the road are the sea and marshes. There are warm fountains in the pass, and an altar of Hercules stands near them. On going from Trachin to Hellas, the road is but half a plethrum (fifty feet) wide, yet the narrow- est place is not there ; but just in front and back of Thermopylae, where there is but room for one carriage." Thus Thermopylae was considered as the only road, by which an army could pass from Thessa- ly into Hellas, for nothing more than a footpath ran across the mountains : and Thermopylae, not only during the wars with Persia, but also in the age of Philip, was considered the gate of Greece. * Bartholdy. BruchsUlcke, p. 251. I Locri, Opuntii, and Epicucunidii. * Herod, vii. 176. GEOGRAPHICAL VIEW OF GREECE. 35 The western part of Locris, on the bay of Corinth, inhabited by the Ozoli, was greater in extent, but possessed fewer remarkable objects. Yet its harbour Naupactus has preserved its importance, while so many of the most celebrated cities have become in- significant. It is now called Lepanto, and is perhaps the only town of which the modern name is more harmonious than the ancient. The western parts of Hellas, rough ^Etolia, and woody Acarnania, are indeed among the largest districts, but are so inferior to the rest in fame, that the historian can do little more than name them. Nature was here neither less sublime nor less muni- ficent ; both were situated on the largest of the Grecian rivers, the Achelous, which flowed between them ; both were inhabited by descendants of the Hellenes ; both were once celebrated for heroes ; and yet the JEtolians and the Acarnanians remained bar- barians, after the Athenians had become the instruc- ters of the world. How difficult it is, to comprehend the history of the culture of nations ! The chain of CEta, which farther west receives the name of Othrjs, and at last of Pindus, and, taking a northerly direction, is connected with the mountains of Macedonia, divides the central part of Greece from the northern. Thessaly, the largest of all the Grecian provinces, (though its extent cannot be given with accuracy, for its boundary on the north was never defined,) forms the eastern, and Epirus the western part of the same. There is hardly any district in Greece, for which nature seems to have done so much as for Thessaly. The mountains which have been mentioned, surround- ed it on three sides ; while the peaks of Ossa and of 36 CHAPTER FIRST. Olympus, rose above them on the east along the coasts of the jEgean sea. Thessaly can with justice be called the land of the Peneus ; which, descending from Pindus, flowed through it from west to east. A multitude of tributary streams poured from the north and the south into this river. The traditions of the ancients related,* that it had stagnated for centuries, when an earthquake divided Olympus and Ossa,f and opened for it a passage to the ^Egean sea through the delicious vale of Tempe.J Thus the plain of Thessaly arose from the floods, possessed of a soil, which they had long been fertilizing. No oth- er district had so extensive an internal navigation ; which, with a little assistance from art, might have been carried to all its parts. Its fruitful soil was fitted alike for pasturing and the cultivation of corn ; its coasts, especially the bay of Pagasa, $ afforded the best harbours for shipping ; nature seemed hardly to have left a wish ungratified. It was in Thessaly, that the tribe of the Hellenes, according to the tradition, first applied themselves to agriculture ; and from thence its several branches spread over the more southern lands. Almost all the names of its towns, as Pelasgiotis and Thessaliotis, recall some associa- * Herod, viii. 6. Strab. ix. p. 296. t To commemorate the event, a festival was instituted in Thessaly, called the Peloria, which festival seems to have been continued in a Chris- tian one. Bartholdy, p. 137. J " Tempe forms, as it were, a triple valley, which is broad at the en- trance and at the end, bu/ very narrow in the middle." These are the words of Bartholdy, who, of all modern travellers, has given us the most accurate account of Tempe from his own observation. BruchstQcke, fcc. p. 112, be. Pagasa itself (afterwards called Demetrias), lolcos, and Magnesia, which last lay without the bay of Pagasa. GEOGRAPHICAL VIEW OF GREECE. 37 tion, connected with the primitive history and heroic age of the nation. The Doric tribe found in Estiaeo- tis its oldest dwelling-places ; and who has ever heard the name of Phthiotis, without remembering the hero of the Iliad, the great Pelides ? Thessaly was always well inhabited and rich in cities. In the interior, the most celebrated were Larissa, situated in the midst of the noble plain, and Pherse ; lolcos, from whence the Argonauts took their departure, and Magnesia, were on the seacoast. But it was perhaps the very fer- tility of the soil, which ruined the Thessalians. They rioted in sensual enjoyments ; they were celebrated for banquets, and not for works of genius ; and al- though Olympus, the mountain of the gods, was on the boundary of their land, nothing godlike was ever unfolded with its precints. Is it strange that in the midst of such gross sensuality, the love of self over- powered the love of country ; that neither heroes nor poets were created among them by the inspirations of patriotism? Anarchy and tyranny commonly followed each other in regular succession ; and thus Thessaly, always ripe for foreign subjugation, cower- ed of itself beneath the yoke of the Persians, and afterwards under that of Philip. On tte opposite side of the Peneus, the pure race and language of the Hellenes were not to be found. Other nations, probably of Illyrian descent, dwelt there ; the Pervhsebi, the Athamanes, and others ; who, as Strabo relates, sometimes claimed to belong to the Thessalians, and sometimes to the Macedonians.* The case was not different in Epirus, which lay to the west. The house of the ^Eacidse, a Grecian family, * Strabo, vii. p. 222. 38 CHAPTER FIRST. the descendants of Achilles, were indeed the rulers over the Molossi ; and the oracle of the Jupiter of the Hellenes was heard in the sacred grove of Dodo- na ; but still the larger portion of the inhabitants seems hardly to have been of the Grecian race. The main land of Hellas was surrounded by a coronet of islands, which were gradually occupied by the Hellenes, and came to be considered as parts of their country. They rose above the sea in beauti- ful verdure, and were surmounted by rocky hills. We can hardly doubt, that we see in them the remains of an earlier world ; when the waters which covered the middle parts of Asia, and the deserts of northern Africa, retired, leaving behind them the Euxine and the Mediterranean sea as two vast reservoirs. Each of those islands commonly bore the name of the chief town, of which it formed the territory ; with the exception of the three large islands Euboea, Crete, and Cyprus, each of which contained several cities. Almost every one of them possessed its own remark- able objects and its own claims to fame. Fruitful CorcNra* boasted then, as it does now, of its har- bour and its ships. Ithaca, small as it is, shares the immortality of Ulysses and Homer. Cythera, in the south, was the residence of the Paphian goddess. jgi- na, unimportant as it seems, long disputed with Athens the sovereignty of the sea. What Greek could hear Salamis named, without feeling a superiority over the barbarians? Eubosa was celebrated for its fruitful- ness ; Thasos for its gold mines ; Samothrace for its mysteries; and in the labyrinth of the Cyclades and Sporades, what island had not afforded the poets the * Ao\v Corfu. GEOGRAPHICAL VIEW OF GREECE. 39 subject of a hymn.* Delos and Naxus had their gods ; Paros its marble ; Melos its misfortunes.f If so many of them are now desolate ; if the alluring Cythera has become a naked rock; if Samos is poison- ed by its swamps ; if nature herself seems to have grown old ; shall we draw an inference from this with reference to ancient times ? The Etesian winds blow certainly with more piercing roughness, now that the tops of the mountains are naked; the brooks stagnate in the desolate plains ; but the change of seasons even now produces varying scenes ; and the traveller, who at one time finds the Archipelago melancholy and waste, a few months later may contemplate a smiling prospect. if In spring, these islands are covered with green turf, with anemones and flowers of all colours. But in the month of August, when the northerly winds prevail, every thing is burnt and dried up, and the parched fields produce no herbage again before autumn."| This view of Greece, though it cannot claim to be considered a regular description, leads us to several remarks, which may perhaps throw some light on the history of the nation. First : Greece w r as naturally so divided and cut in pieces in a geographical point of view, that it could not have been easy for any .one district to gain the supremacy over the rest. Thessaly could not well control the lands which lay to the south of (Eta ; and still less could Hellas sway the Pelopon- nesus, or the Peloponnesus, Hellas. Nature herself * Need we montion the hymns of Callimachus ? tSee Thucydiles,v. 116. t Bartholdy. Hriiehstdcke, &c. p. 194. The whole description of the Archipelago by this traveller, is worthy of being consulted. 40 CHAPTER FIRST. had erected breastworks for those, who desired and who knew how to be free. It was easy to defend Thermopylae, or the Isthmus. We do not here take into consideration the superior power of a foreign conqueror ; but even that could have effected little, so long as the nation refused to forge its own chains. Again : If Greece was excelled by many countries in fertility, it would yet be difficult, and, at least in Europe, impossible to find a land of such limited extent, where nature had done so much to prepare for the various branches of industry. Greece was not merely an agricultural, or a commercial country, or a land fitted for pasturing ; it was all, at once ; but dif- ferent parts of it had different degrees of aptitude for the one or the other. The fruitful Mtssenia was fit for the growth of corn ; Arcadia for the nurture of cattle. Attica was proud of its oil, and the honey of Hymettus ; Thessaly of its horses. Of mines, there were not many ; still they were not unknown in Lau- rium and Thasos. The maritime towns were suited for trade and commerce ; and the coasts, indented with bays, and the islands, invited to navigation. This variety of pursuits in active life may have been the cause of an extensive intellectual culture, which was directed to many objects, and perhaps laid the foundation for the farther improvement of the nation. Lastly : No other country in Europe was so fa- vourably situated for holding commerce with the oldest cultivated nations of the western world. On the way to Asia Minor and Phoenicia, one island almost touched upon another. It was easy ^o cross into Italy ; and the coasts of Egypt were not far distant. Even in the times of fable, a path was discovered from the GEOGRAPHICAL VIEW OF GREECE. 41 shores of Thessaly to those of Colchis ; and how much earlier, and with how much greater facility, to those countries, where no rocks, like the Symplegades, opposed the passage of the daring Argo ? 42 CHAPTER SECOND. CHAPTER II. EARLIEST CONDITION OF THE NATION ; AND ITS BRANCHES. THE nation of the Hellenes, as they called them- selves after an ancient leader, (for they received the name of Greeks from foreigners,) preserved many a tradition respecting their earliest state, representing them to have been nearly on a level with the savage tribes which now wander in the forests of North Amer- ica.* From these traditions, it would seem, that there was once a time, when they had no agriculture, but lived on the spontaneous produce of the woods ; and when even fire could not be appropriated to the service of man, till it had first been stolen from Hea- ven. Yet, in the meanwhile, they gradually spread over the country, which they afterwards possessed ; and all foreign tribes were either driven from the soil, or were mingled with them. Much is told of the emigra- tion of individual tribes, from the southern districts to the northern, and from these back again into the south- ern : but the peculiar habits of nomades, as seen in the nations of middle Asia, belonged to the Greeks as little as to the Germanic race. The moderate extent and the hilly character of their country, which afford- ed no pasture for large flocks, did not admit of that kind of life. As far as we can judge from the very indefinite ac- counts of this early period, it seems that, especially in ".fischyl. Prom, vinct. v. 442, etc. EARLIEST CONDITION OP TtfE NATION. 43 the fourteenth and thirteenth centuries before the Chris- tian era, the race of the Hellenes was already so far ex- tended over Hellas, that it was every where predom- inant. For it appears as such even then, before the Trojan war. The nation of the Pelasgi, which, no less than that of the Hellenes, belonged to the first inhabitants of the country, and which must be consid- ered as having had a different origin, since their language was different,* may at an early period have been the most powerful, but was constantly reduced within narrower limits, and either emigrated to Italy and other countries ; or, where it preserved its resi- dence, as in Arcadia and Attica, was gradually min- gled with the Hellenes, of whom the power was constantly increasing, until every vestige of it, as a separate race, was entirely lost. Whilst the Hellenes were thus spreading through Greece, the several chief tribes of them became more and more distinctly marked ; and this division was so lasting and so full of consequences, that the internal history of the na- tion for the most part depends on it. Of the four most important branches, the lonians, Dorians, ^Eolians, and Achaeans, the two first (for the ^Eolians were chiefly mingled with the Dorians),f and the Achseans were so eminent, that they deserve to be regarded as the chief component parts of the nation. It is impor- tant, in order to become acquainted with the people, to know in what parts of Greece these several tribes had their places of residence. But these places did not remain unchanged ; the event which had the greatest * Herod, i. 57. tEuripides, enumerating in Ion, v. 1581, etc. the tribes ef the Helleni, makes no mention of the /Eolians. 44 CHAPTER SECOND. influence on them for the succeeding time, happened shortly after the termination of the Trojan war. Till then the tribe of the Achseans had been so powerful, that Homer, who, as Thucydides has already observ- ed,* had no general name for the whole nation, com- monly distinguishes that tribe from the others; which he sometimes designates collectively by the name of Pan-Hellenes, f It possessed at that time almost all -the Peloponnesus, with the exception of the very district which afterwards was occupied by it and bore its name, but which was then still called Ionia ; and as the territories of Agamemnon and Menelaus, the most powerful of the Grecian princes, both lay in that peninsula, the first rank was clearly due to the Achseans. But soon after this war, it was the lot of that tribe to be in part subjugated and reduced to the severest bondage, J and in part to be expelled from the lands where it had resided, and confined to a small district, which from that time was called Achaia. This was a consequence of the emigration of the Do- rians, under the direction of the descendants of Her- cules ; of which emigration the chief object was the conquest of the Peloponnesus ; but it also occasioned a change in the places occupied by the other tribes of the Hellenes. From this time almost the whole of the Peloponnesus was occupied by the Dorians, and the kindred tribe of the jfEtolians, who possessed Elis ; *Thucyd. i.3. f I IavsXX;i>j xeu 'A#*/odes. 1675. t Crete awes the circling waves, a fruitful soil, And ninety cities crown the sea-born isle. Od. six. 172, &c. in Pope 1% Stc. } The most important passage is in Diodor. v. p. 338. Wechel. They are chronologically enumerated by Diodor. v. p. 346. 80 CHAPTER THIRD. tion, which occasioned sacred customs and mysteries, like those ascribed to the Curetes and Idaean Dacty- li.* The abundance of brass, and the use of the same in manufactures, as seen in the heroic age, give evidence, that this art must have been very ancient and very important. We have the authority of Strabo, that this invention was unanimously ascribed to the Cretans ;f although the traditions respecting ancient Crete were in other respects very various, traditions, which had probably afforded subjects to many poets, before they were committed to writing by the Cretan historians, to whom Diodorus refers. We are expressly told by the ancients, that the invention and manufacturing of brass stood in imme- diate connexion with the religious institutions in that island, when the Curetes and Dactyli on mount Ida are mentioned, and the manufacturing of brass and iron, the preparation of arms, and the war-dances are attributed to them ; all which were transplanted from thence to Phrygia, to the islands of Lemnos and Samothrace, and from thence by way of Thrace to Greece. No branch of the Grecian religious history is more entangled with others, than this of the Cretan religious institutions ; and this confusion has been increased in part by accidental causes. Criticism has done all that it could :j| but Strabo, even in his time, found it impossible to disentangle the confused accounts respecting the Curetes, Dactyli, and Cory- * Diod. p. 333. t Strabo, x. p. 326. f See Strabo and Diodor. 1. c. etc. As for instance, the circumstance, that several mountains bore the name of Ida. || See Creuzer's Symbolik. b. ii. s. 227, and Heyue in Coinrnentat. S. G. vol. viii. ORIGINAL SOURCES OF CULTURE. 81 bantes. But that the whole web is woven of Eg^p- tian, Pho2nician,Pelasgic,and Phrygian threads, can be as little denied, as the emigrations of those and other nations to Crete. Should some modern Theseus venture to descend into this labyrinth, we wish he may find the thread of Ariadne in the history of the discovery and manufacturing of the baser metals and their general diffusion, on which the arts of war and peace equally depended ; not in order to cement every thing with this, and so to frame an imperfect hypoth- esis from but one view of the subject ; but only to show us more distinctly the way, in which the Greeks ar- rived at that point of culture, at which we shall see them in the following chapter. li 82 CHAPTER FOURTH. CHAPTER FOURTH. THE HEROIC AGE; THE TROJAN WAR ALTHOUGH the history of the progress of the Greek nation during the early period of its culture, is imperfect and fragmentary, the progress itself is certain. In the age which we best designate in the spirit of the nation by the name of the Heroic Age, and which extends from about the thirteenth to the eleventh century before the Christian era, we find them possessed of a far higher degree of civilization, than that of which by their own accounts they were pos- sessed before. The poet who delineates them in that stage is never untrue to the poetic character ; and yet Homer was regarded even by the ancients as of historical authority ; and, to a certain point, deserved to be so regarded. Truth was his object in his ac- counts and descriptions, as far as it can be the object of a poet, and even in a greater degree than was necessary, when he distinguishes the earlier and later times or ages. He is the best source of infor- mation respecting the heroic age ; and since that source pours so copiously, there is no need of drawing from any other. When we compare the Greeks of Homer with those of later ages, we immediately perceive a remarkable difference, to which we must at once direct our attention. His Greeks, to whatever tribe they belong, are all equal in point of culture. With him, THE HEROIC AGE ; THE TROJAN WAR. 83 the Thessalian differs in nothing from the inhabitant of the Peloponnesus, nor the ^Etolian from the Boeo- tian and Athenian ; the sole points of difference which he marks, are merely personal; or at most result from the greater or smaller extent of the several territories. Hence we infer, that the causes which afterwards gave the inhabitants of the eastern part of Hellas so great an advantage over those of the west, had not then begun to operate. There must rather have been some causes of general influ- ence, to produce that early progress ; and there- fore we have less reason to fear that we were mis- taken in assigning the first place among them to religion. Yet religion had no influence in exciting and developing that heroic spirit, which is the character- istic of the age. In those later centuries of the mid- dle age which embrace the Christian heroic age, a devotional spirit formed a prominent feature in the character of a chevalier ; but nothing like this is to be found among the Greeks. The Grecian heroes always preserve a belief in the gods ; are intimately and directly united with them ; are sometimes perse- cuted and sometimes protected by them ; but they do not fight for their religion, like the Christian knights. Such an idea could never occur to them ; for their representations of their gods did not admit of it. And here we remark one great point of differ- ence between the Grecian and Christian heroic char- acter. A second, to which we shall return directly, results from the different condition of the other sex. But another prominent trait is common to both ; the propensity to extraordinary and bold undertakings, 84 CHAPTER FOURTH. not only at home, but in foreign lands, in countries beyond the sea, and of which tradition had, for the most part, spread none but indistinct accounts. This propensity was first awakened by the early emigra- tions of the Hellenes. But the exploits of the oldest heroes among the Greeks, Meleager, Tydeus, and others, before Hercules and Jason, were performed at home ; and even those which are said to have been performed by Hercules out of Greece, are probably a later fiction, invented at the time when his name was first added to the number of the Argonauts, and the Grecian Hercules was confounded with the Phoe- nician. Adventures in foreign regions begin with Jason and the Argonautic expedition ; and those adventures were destined soon to end in a general union of the nation for the purpose of carrying on a war beyond the sea. As far as we can judge amidst the uncertainty of the chronology of that period, this adventurous spirit appears to , have been awakened in the century immediately preceding the Trojan war. According to all possible chronological combinations, we must refer to this period the expedition of the Argonauts and the undertaking of Theseus against Crete ; which events happened soon after the dominion of the sea had been gained for that island by Minos. The gen- eral condition of Greece in that period explains, in some measure, why the limits of that country began to grow too narrow, and a new theatre for the display of enterprise to be sought for. The whole of Greece previous to the Trojan war, appears to have enjoyed perfect tranquillity within its own boundaries. The limits of the small districts into which Greece was divid- THE HEROIC AGE ; THE TROJAN WAR. 85 ed, seem already to have been definitively established. We hear of no contention respecting them on the part of the princes ; and Homer was able to enume- rate the several possessions with precision. The war of the seven against Thebes had its origin in family discord ; and the claims of the exiled Hera- clidse were not made valid till a more recent age. It was on the whole an age of internal peace, notwith- standing some interruptions. In such an age there was little opportunity for heroic exploits at home ; and what was more natural than that the warlike spirit which was once roused, should go in quest of them abroad? But such was the situation of the country, that this could take place only by sea. There was in the North, nothing which could invite the spirit of enter- prise ; and the country in that direction was possessed by warlike nations. On the other hand, the reports which came to the Greeks respecting the land beyond the sea, were numerous ; even though they may have been brought by none but the Phoenicians. The countries and nations which were the chief objects of the voyages of that commercial people, the Cimmeri- ans in the North, the Lotophagi, and the gardens of the Hesperides on the coast of Lybia ; Sicily with its wonders, the Cyclops, and Scylla and Charybdis ; and even Spain with the mighty Geryon and the pillars of Hercules, are dimly seen in the earliest Grecian mythology. These traditions did much towards awakening the spirit of adventure, and thus occasioned the Argonautic expedition. These early voyages, by which so much activity was awakened, and so much energy called into 86 CHAPTER FOURTH. action, were the chief means by which the circle of ideas in the nation was enlarged. This is obvious from those ancient mythological tales, which were thus introduced, and which were the fruit of the in- creased intercourse with foreign countries. The geography of Homer, limited as it is, not only extends far beyond the bounds of his native land ; but shows a manifest desire of discovering the farthest limits of the earth. The ocean stream which flowed round it, is mentioned ; the regions are named, in which the sun has the gates of its rising and setting ; even the entrance to the lower world is known. The obscurity in which all this was veiled, served but to excite the adventurous spirit, which was once aroused, to new undertakings. The internal political condition of Greece in the heroic age was in one respect similar to that of a later period ; and in another essentially different. It was similar in the division into small territories ; but it was altogether different in the constitutions of the states. The division into territories, a result of the variety of the tribes, was in those times as great, or perhaps greater than in more recent ones. The district of Thessaly alone contained, in Homer's time, no less than ten small states, each of which had its prince or leader. In the central part of Greece, the Bceotians had five principalities,* the Minyes, whose capital was Orchomenus, the Locrians,f the Atheni- *I1. ii. catalog, nav. 1. &c. where also the passages may be found, which serve as proofs of the following statements. fThe Opuntii and Epicnemidii. Homer makes no mention of the Ozo- te. THE HEROIC AGE J THE TROJAN WAR. 87 ans, the Phocians, had each their own ruler. In the Peloponnesus, there existed, independent of each other, the kingdoms of Argos, of Mycenae, of Sparta, of Pylus, that of the Elians, divided under four heads, and Arcadia. Many of the islands also had their own princes. On the west side, the government of Ulysses embraced, beside Ithaca, the islands Zacynthus and Cephallene, and Epirus which lies over against it. ' The flourishing island of Crete was swayed by Idomeneus ; Salamis by Ajax ; Eubcea, inhabited by the Abantes, Rhodes, and Cos had their own rulers ; jEgina and probably others of the small islands belonged to the neighbouring princes. This political division was therefore from the earliest times a peculiarity of Greece ; and it never ceased to be so. And here it is natural to ask, how it could have continued so long ? How happened it, that amidst the early civil wars, and especially the later superiority of the Doric tribe, the supremacy of an individual state was never established? One princi- pal cause of this is to be found in the natural geo- graphical divisions of the country, which we have described in a former chapter ; another, no less impor- tant, seems to lie in the internal division of the sever- al tribes. Even where those of the same tribe made their settlements, they were immediately split into sep- arate townships. According to these, the troops of sol- diers are distinguished in Homer. Proofs of it are found in all parts of his poems, especially in the cata- logue of the ships. If these townships stood under one common head, they were still united only by a feeble bond. The germ of division was deeply fixed even in those earlier times ; and as it unfolded, it was 88 CHAPTER FOURTH. destined to mature the whole subsequent political con- dition of Greece. Yet though the divisions of the country were then as numerous, the forms of government in those early times were entirely different from the later ones. We meet with no governments but those of princes or kings ; there were then no republics ; and yet re- publicanism was eventually to decide the political character of Greece. These monarchical constitutions, if that name may be applied to them, were rather the outlines of constitutions than regular, finished forms of government. They were a consequence of the most ancient condition of the nation, when either ruling families sprung up in the several tribes ; or the leaders of foreign colonies had known how to secure to themselves and their posterity the govern- ment of those who originally belonged to the country. The families of Peleus, Cadmus, Pelops, and others, have already been mentioned. It was a great re- commendation of the later rulers, to be able to trace their lineage to one of the ancient heroes or gods : and Alexander himself sought the confirmation of his own descent from the temple of Ammon. But though much depended on descent, we learn from observ- ing those ancient families, that it was not only neces- sary that the founder of the family should be a hero, but, if its elevation was to be perserved, that many heroes like him should arise among his posteri- ty. For this the houses of Pelops and Cadmus were the most illustrious. But only certain branches of the family of Hercules, the first of Grecian heroes, were remembered by the nation, while others passed into oblivion. The Greeks paid respect to birth, THE HEROIC AGE ; THE TROJAN WAR. 8& yet they never attributed every thing to birth ; and if in those republican times, the noble families were preserved distinct from the rest, their superiority depended Seldom on birth alone ; and no line was drawn between them and the rest of the people, such as divided the Patricians from the Plebeians in the early period of Roman history. The correct judg- ment of the Greeks is observable in this, as in so many other things. The respect for their illustrious fami- lies was continued in the recollection of their actions ; but the descendants were not long permitted to live on the fame of their forefathers. The constitutions of the heroic age were the result of circumstances, and wants which were felt. Esteem for the ruling families secured to them the govern- ment ; but their power was not strictly hereditary. Princes were not much more than the first amongst their equals ; or even the latter were also denominat- ed princes.* The son had commonly the precedence over others in the succession ; but his claim was measured by his personal qualifications for the sta- tion, f It was his first duty to lead in war ; and he could not do this, unless he was himself distinguished for courage and strength. His privileges in peace were not great. He called together the popular assembly, which was chiefly, if not exclusively, com- posed of the older and more distinguished citizens.^ Here the king had his own seat ; the ensign of his dignity was a sceptre or staff. He had the right of * As, in Od. viii. 41. the fjcnr-rau^tt (lourttiiit of Ithaca. t Observe the description of the situation of Telemachus in this respect Odyss. i. 392. t Compare the description of the assembly of Phseacians. Odyss. viii. 12 90 CHAPTER FOURTH. addressing the assembly, which was done standing. In all important events he was bound to consult the peo- ple. In addition to this he sometimes acted as judge ;* but not always ; for the administration of justice was often committed to an assembly of the elders, f Noth- ing was known of particular taxes paid to the king. His superiority consisted in a piece of land, and a larger part of the booty. Excepting this he derived his support from his own possessions and the produce of his fields and herds. The preservation of his dignity required an almost unbounded hospitality. His house was the place of assembly for persons of the upper class, who almost always sat at table with him ; to turn away strangers, who asked for shelter, or only seemed to stand in need of it, would have been an unexampled outrage.! Greece, even in those times, was a thickly peopled and well cultivated country. What a crowd of cities is enumerated by the poet! And we must not imag- ine these to have been open towns with scattered habitations. The epithets applied to them frequent- ly prove the reverse. They are in part surrounded with walls; have gates and regular streets. Yet the houses stand by themselves ; having in front a court, and in the rear a garden. || Such at least * Aristot. Polit. iii. 14. 2) can hardly pass for either woollen or linen. Fine as a filmy web beneath it shone A vest, that dazzled like a cloudless sun. tAse. g. II vi. 290. t The passages are collected in Feithii Ant. Homer, iii. cap. 7. ^ In the third book. P Odyss. iv. and xv. tf Odyss. iv. 121. THE HEROIC AGE J THE TROJAN WAR. 95 years ?) And yet even then the two sexes stood to each other in the same relation, which continued in later times. The wife is housewife, and nothing more. Even the sublime Andromache, after that parting, which will draw tears, as long as there are eyes which can weep and hearts which can feel, is sent back to the apartments of the women, to superintend the labours of the maidservants.* Still we observe in her, conjugal love of an elevated character. In other instances love has reference, both with mortals and with immortals, to sensual enjoyment ; although in the noble and uncorrupted vestal characters, as in the amiable Nausicaa, it was united with that bashfulness, which accompanies maiden youth. But we meet with no trace of those elevated feelings, that romantic love, as it is very improperly termed, which results from a higher regard for the female sex. That love, and that regard are traits peculiar to the Germanic nations, a result of the spirit of gallantry which was a lead- ing feature in the character of chivalry, but which we vainly look for in Greece. Yet here the Greek stands between the East and the West. Although he was never wont to revere the female sex as beings of a higher order, he did not, like the Asiatic, imprison them by troops in a haram. The progress which had been made in social life, is visible in nothing more distinctly, except the relative situation of the sexes, than in the tone of conversation among men. A solemn dignity belonged to it even in common intercourse ; the style of salutation and address is connected with certain forms ; the epithets with which the heroes honoured each other, were so II. vi.490. 96 CHAPTER FOURTH. adopted into the language of intercourse, that they are not unfrequently applied, even where the language of reproach is used. Let it not be said, that this is merely the language of epic poetry. The poet never could have employed it, if its original, and a taste for it, had not already existed. If the tone of intercourse is a measure of the social and, in a certain degree, of the moral improvement of a nation, the Greeks of the heroic age were already vastly elevated beyond their earlier savage state. To complete the picture of those times, it is ne- cessary to speak of war and the art of war. The heroic age of the Greeks, considered from this point of view, exhibits a mixture of savageness and magna- nimity, and the first outlines of the laws of nations. The enemy who has been slain, is not secure against outrage, and yet the corpse is not always abused.* The conquered party offers a ransom ; and it depends on the victor to accept or refuse it. The arms, both of attack and defence, are of iron or brass. No hero appeared, like Hercules of old, with a club and lion's skin for spear and shield. The art of war, as far as it relates to the position and erecting of forti- fied camps, seems to have been first invented in the siege of Troy.f In other respects, every thing depended on the more or less perfect equipments, together with personal courage and strength. As the great multitude was, for the most part, svithout defen- sive armour, and as only a few were completely accoutred, one of these last outweighed a host of the rest. But only the leaders were thus armed; and * An example, II. vi. 417. t See on this subject, on which we believe we may be brief, the Excur- sus of Heyne to the vi. vii. and viii. books of the Iliad. THE HEROIC AGE ; THE TROJAN WAR. 97 they? standing on their chariots of war (for cavalry was still unknown), fought with each other in the space between the armies. If they were victorious, they spread panic before them ; and it became easy for them to break through the ranks. But we will pursue no farther the description of scenes, which every one prefers to read in the poet himself. As the crusades were the fruit of the revolution in the social condition of the West, the Trojan war resulted from the same causes in Greece. It was ne- cessary, that a fondness for adventures in foreign lands should be awakened ; expeditions by sea, like that of the Argonauts, be attended with suc- cess ; and a *union of the heroes, as in that and the march against Thebes, be first established ; before such an undertaking could become practicable. But now it resulted so naturally from the whole condition of things, that, though its object might have been a different one, it must have taken place even without a Helen. The expedition against Troy, like the crusades, was a voluntary undertaking on the part of those who joined in it ; and this circumstance had an influ- ence on all the internal regulations. The leaders of the several bands were voluntary followers of the Atridae, and could therefore depart from the army at their own pleasure. It is more difficult to fix on the relation between the leaders and their people ; and he who should undertake to describe every thing minutely, would be most sure of making mistakes. There were certainly control and obedience. The troops follow their leaders, and leave the battle with them. But much even of this seems to have been 13 98 CHAPTER FOURTH. voluntary ; and the spirit of the age allowed no such severe discipline as exists in modern armies. None but a Thersites could have received the treatment of Thersites. This undertaking, begun and successfully termi- nated by united exertions, kindled the national spirit of the Hellenes. On the fields of Asia, the tribes had for the first time been assembled, for the first time had saluted each other as brethren. They had fought and had conquered in company. Yet something was still wanting to preserve the flame, which was just blazing up. The assistance of the muse was needed, to com- memorate in words those events of which the echo will never die away. By preserving the memory of them forever, the most beautiful fruits which they bore were saved from perishing. THE PERIOD FOLLOWING THE HEUOIC AGE. 99 CHAPTER FIFTH. I'HE PERIOD FOLLOWING THE HEROIC AGE. EMIGRATIONS. ORIGIN OF REPUBLICAN FORMS OF GOVERNMENT, AND THEIR CHARACTER. LIKE the age of chivalry in western Europe, the heroic age of the Greeks began and ended without our being able to define either period by an exact date. Such a phenomenon is the fruit of causes which are rooted deeply and of continuing influence, and it neither suddenly ripens nor suddenly decays. The heroic age was not immediately terminated by the Trojan war ; yet it was during that period in its greatest glory.* It was closely united with the polit- ical constitution of the times ; the princes of the tribes were the first of the heroes. When the constitution of the tribes was changed, the ancient heroic world coulJ not continue. No new undertaking was begun, which was so splendidly executed and closed. Although, therefore, heroic characters may still have arisen, as in the times of Achilles and Agamemnon, no similar career of honour was opened to them ; they were not celebrated in song like the Atridse and their compan- ions ; and though they may have gained the praise of their contemporaries, they did not live, like the latter, in the memory of succeeding generations. In the age succeeding the Trojan war, several events took place, which prepared and introduced an * Hesiod limits his fourth age, the age of heroes, to the times immedi- ately before and after the Trojan war. Op. et Dies 156, &c. 10O CHAPTER FIFTH. entire revolution in the domestic and still more ia public life of the Greeks. The result of these revo- lutions was the origin and general prevalence of re- publican forms of government among them ; and this decided the whole future character of their public life as a nation. It ia-still possible for us to show the general causes of this great change ; but when we remember that these events took place before Greece had produced a historian, and when tradition was the only authority, we give up all expectation of gaining perfect and unbroken historical accounts ; and acknowledge that we can hardly know more of them than Thucydides. The emigration of the tribes, says this historian,* was by no means at an end with the Trojan war. The continuance of the war produced many changes ; in many cities disturbances were excited, which occa- sioned the banished parties to found new cities. The Boeotians, driven from Arne in Thessaly, took posses- sion of their country in the sixtieth year after the fall of Troy ; in the eightieth, the Dorians, led on by the Heraclidse, conquered the Peloponnesus. And we have already observed, what great revolutions were produc- ed by this last event. A new tribe, till then the weaker, was extended and became the more powerful. But still greater changes were to come ; the race of the Hellenes were destined to extend on the east and west, far beyond the limits of their ancient country. ' When Greece," 7 continues Thucydides, " after a long interval, at lejigth became composed, and assumed a firmer appearance, it sent out colonies ; Athens, to Ionia in Asia Minor, and to a great part of the islands * TLucvd. i. 12. THE PERIOD FOLLOWING THE HEROIC AGE. 101 of the Archipelago ; the Peloponnesians, chiefly to Italy and Sicily ; all which settlements were not made till after the Trojan times." The views of the nation could not but be enlarged by the Trojan war. It had become acquainted with the coasts of Asia, those lands so highly favoured by nature : and the recollection of them never died away. When the new internal storms followed, and almost all the tribes of the Hellenes were driven, from their places of abode, it is not remarkable that the coasts of Asia should have attracted the emigrating par- ties. Since the downfall of Troy, no new king- dom had been established there ; no nation of the country was strong enough to prohibit the settle- ment of the foreigners. Thus, in the course of not more than a century,* the western coast of Asia Minor was occupied by a chain of Grecian cities, extending from the Hellespont to the boundary of Cilicia. ^Eolians, conducted by the descendants of the fallen house of the Atridse, established their residence in the vicinity of the ruins of Troy, on the coast of Mysia, in the most fruitful region known to those times,! and on the opposite island of Lesbos ; on the continent they built twelve cities, and on Lesbos Mitylene, which now gives a name to the whole is- land. Smyrna, the only one which has preserved a part of its splendor, and Cyme, exceeded all the rest on the main land. jEolis was bounded on the south by Ionia, a region so called from the twelve Ionian cities, which were built by the lonians, who had been expelled from their ancient country. They *In a period subsequent to the year 1130 before Christ, t Herod, i. 149. 102 CHAPTER FIFTH. also occupied the neighbouring islands Chios and Samos. If ^Eolis could boast of superior fertility, the Ionian sky was celebrated with the Greeks as the mildest and most delightful.* Of these cities, Miletus, Ephesus, and Phocaea became flourishing commercial towns ; the mothers of many daughters, extending from the shores of the Black sea and lake Mseotis, to the coasts of Gaul and Iberia. Neither were the Dorians content with their conquest of the Pelopon- nesus ; troops of them thronged to Asia ; Cos, and the wealthy Rhodes, as well as the cities Halicar- nassus and Cnidus, were peopled by them. In this manner, as the series of cities planted by the Grecians ascended the Macedonian and Thracian coast to By- zantium, the jEgean sea was encircled with Grecian colonies, and its islands were covered with them. But the mother country seems soon to have been filled again; and as the east offered no more room, the emigrants wandered to the west. At a somewhat later period, but with hardly less success, the coasts of Lower Italy, which soon took the name of Magna Grsecia, and those of Sicily, were occupied by Dorians, Achaeans, and lonians.f On the gulf of Tarentum, not only the city of that name, but Croton and Sybaris soon rose to a degree of population anti wealth, bor- dering on the fabulous ; whilst the chain of towns extended by way of Rhegium and Pacstum as far as Cumse and Naples. These colonial towns were still more frequent on the coasts of Sicily, from Messana and the unrivalled Syracuse to the proud Agrigen- *Heroi!. i. 142. t Especially between the years 800 and 700 before the Christian era. Tet single colonies wre earlier established. THE PERIOD FOLLOWING THE HEROIC AGE. 103 turn. And in the now desolate Barca, on the coast of Lybia, Gyrene flourished with the towns of which it was the metropolis, and proved that Greeks remain- ed true to their origin even in Africa. We reserve for another chapter the consideration of the flourishing condition and various consequences of their colonies. Bat whilst the world of the Greeks and their circle of vision were thus enlarged, it was not possible for their political condition to remain unchanged. Freedom ripens in colonies. Ancient usage cannot be preserved, cannot altogether be renewed, as at home. The former bonds of attach- ment to the soil and ancient customs, were broken by the voyage ; the spirit felt itself to be more free in the new country ; new strength was required for the necessary exertions ; and those exertions were ani- mated by success. Where every man lives by the labour of his hands, equality arises, even if it did not exist before. Each day is fraught with new experi- ence ; the necessity of common defence is more felt in lands where the new settlers find ancient inhabitants desirous of being free from them. Need we wonder, then, if the authority of the founders, even where it had originally subsisted, soon gave way to liberty ? Similar phenomena are observable in the mother country. The annihilation of so many of the ruling houses in the Trojan war and its immediate conse- quences would have produced them even without internal storms. How then could the ancient order of things be restored, after so great revolutions and such changes in the residence of nearly all the tribes. The heroic age disappeared ; and with it the supremacy of the princes : and when heroes came forward, like 104 CHAPTER FIFTH. Aristomenes, they resemble adventurers rather than the sublime figures of Homer. On the other hand, the intercourse and trade with the colonies were con- tmued on all sides ; for, according to the Grecian cus- tom, the mother country and her colonies were never strangers to each other ; and the former soon had a lesson to learn of the latter. A new order things was the necessary conse- quence. The ancient ruling families died away of themselves, or lost their power. But this did not take place in all or most of the Grecian cities at one time, but very gradually ; and he who should speak of a general political revolution in the modern phrase, would excite altogether erroneous conceptions. As far as we can judge from the imperfect accounts which remain of the history of the individual states, more than a century elapsed before the change was com- plete. We cannot fix the period of it in all of them ; it happened in most of them between the years 900 and 700 before Christ, in others in the two centuries imme- diately after the Doric emigration. In several, as in Athens, it was brought about by degrees. In that city, when the royal dignity was abolished at the death of Codrus,* archons, differing little from kings. were appointed from his family for life ; these were followed by archons chosen for ten years ;f and these last continued for seventy years, till the yearly election of a college of archons set the seal to democ- racy. The fruit of these changes was the establishment of free constitutions for the cities ; which constitutions could prosper only with the increasing prosperity of *In the year 1068 before Christ. t In the year 752 before Christ. THE PERIOD FOLLOWING THE HEROIC AGE. 105 the towns. Thucydides has described to us in an admirable manner, how this happened. " In those times," says he,* " no important war, which could give a great ascendency to individual states, was carried on ; the wars which chanced to arise, were only with the nearest neighbours." Though tran- quillity may thus have sometimes been interrupted, the increase of the cities could not be retard- ed. " But since colonies were established beyond the sea, several of the cities began to apply themselves to navigation and commerce ; and the intercourse, kept up with them afforded mutual advantages-! The cities," continues Thucydides, " became more powerful and more wealthy; but then usurpers arose in most of them, who sought only to confirm, their own power, and enrich their own families ; but performed no great exploits ; until they were overthrown, not long before the Persian wars, by the Spartans (who, amidst all those storms, were never subjected to tyrants) and the Athenians.":}: The essential character of the new political form assumed by Greece, consisted therefore in the cir- cumstance, that the free states which were formed, were nothing but cities with their districts, and their constitutions were consequently only forms of city government. This point of view must never be lost sight of. The districts into which Greece was divided, did not form, as such, so many states ; but the same often contained many states, if it possessed several independent cities ; though a whole district some- * Thucyd. i. 15. f Thucyd. i. 13. J For the counterpart to the narration of Thucydides, we need only call to mind the history of the Italian cities, towards the end of the middle age. 14 106 CHAPTER FIFTH. times formed the territory of but one city, as Attica of Athens, Laconia of Sparta, etc. and in such a case formed of course but one state. But it might easily happen, that the cities of one district, especially if their inhabitants were of kindred tribes, formed allian- ces for mutual safety : as the twelve Achaean cities had done. But these alliances had reference only to foreign relations : and thus they formed a confedera- tion of cities, but not one state ; for each individual city had its own internal constitution, and managed its own concerns. It might also happen, that some one of the cities, on becoming powerful, should claim the sovereignty over the rest; as Thebes over the Boeotian cities. But however far such a superior rank might lead ; it was intended by the Greeks, not only that each state should preserve its internal liberty ; but that its submission should be voluntary ; although the claims of a supreme city occasionally led to compulsory measures. When Thebes usurped the first rank in Boeotia, Plataeae would never acknowledge its sovereignty. The consequences of it are known from history. The whole political life of the nation was thus connected with cities and their constitutions ; and no one can judge of Grecian history with accuracy, unless he comprehends the spirit of them. The strength of such cities seems to be very limited ; but the history of the world abounds in examples, which show how far beyond expectation they can rise. They are ani- mated by public spirit, resulting from civil prosperity; and the force of that spirit can be expressed in no statistical tables. HOMER. THE EPIC POETS. 107 CHAPTER SIXTH. HOMER. THE EPIC POETS. THE heroic age was past, before the poets, who celebrated it, arose. It produced some contemporary with itself; but their fame was eclipsed by those who came after them, and were it not for Homer, the names of Demodocus and Phemius had never become im- mortal. With the Greeks, epic poetry had an importance, which it possessed among no other people ; it was the source of their national education in poetry and the arts. It became so by means of the Homeric poems. But boundless as was the genius of the Ionian bard, a concurrence of favourable circumstan- ces was still needed, to prepare for his appearance, and to make it possible. Epic poetry was of itself a fruit of the heroic age ; just as the poetry of chivalry was the result of the age of chivalry. The picture drawn for us by Homer of the heroic times, leaves no room to doubt of it. The feasts of the heroes, like the ban- quets of the knights, where ornamented with song. But the more copious the stream is to which it swel- led, the more does it deserve to be traced, as far as it is possible, to its origin. Even before the heroic age, we hear of several poets, of Orpheus, Linus, and a few others. But if their hymns were merely invocations and eulogies of the gods, as we must infer from the accounts which 108 CHAPTER SIXTH. are handed down to us respecting them,* no similarity seems to have existed between them and the subse- quent heroic poetry ; although a transition not only became possible, but actually took place, when the actions of the gods were made the subjects of hymns. f The heroic poetry, according to all that we know of it, preserved the character of narration ; whether those narrations contained accounts of the gods or of heroes ;J " the actions of gods and heroes, who were celebrated in song." In the songs of Deniodo- cus and Phemius, the subject is taken from the one and from the other ; he celebrates the loves of Mars and Venus, no less than the adventures which took place before Troy. The latter class of subjects cannot be more ancient than the heroic age, even though we should esteem the former as much older. But that age produced the class of bards, who were employed in celebrating the actions of the heroes. They formed a separate class in society ; but they stood on an equal footing with the heroes, and are considered as belonging to them.|| The gift of song came to them from the gods : it is the Muse, or Jove himself, who inspires them and teaches them what they should sing.H As this representation continu- ally recurs, it is probable, that their poetic effusions were often extemporaneous. At least this seems in *Our present Orphic hymns have this character The more ancient ones, if there were such, were nothing else. See Pausanias is. p. 770 ; and the very ancient hymn, preserved by Stobaeus. Stob. Eclog. i. p. 40 in Heeren's edition. t The proof of this is found in the hymns attributed to Homer. J Odyss. i. 338. Odyss. viii. 266, fcc. || Od. viii. 483. Demodocus himself is here called Heros. U Od. viii. 73, i. 348. HOMER. THE EPIC POETS. 109 many cases hardly to admit of a doubt. Ulysses proposes to Demodocus the subject of his song ;* and the bard, like the modern improvisator!, commences his strains under the influence of the sudden inspira- tion. We would by no means be understood to assert, that there were none but extemporaneous productions. Certain songs very naturally became favourites, and were kept alive in the mouths of the poets ; whilst an infinite number, which were but the offspring of the moment, died away at their birth. But an abundance of songs was needed ; a variety was required, and the charm of novelty even then enforced its claims. f For novel lays attract our ravished ears ; But old the mind with inattention hears. The voice was always accompanied by some instru- ment. The bard was provided with a harp, on which he played a prelude,:}: to elevate and inspire his mind, and with which he accompanied the song when begun. His voice probably preserved a medium between singing and recitation ; the words, and not the melody, were regarded by the listeners ; hence it was necessa- ry for him to remain intelligible to all. In countries where nothing similar is found, it is difficult to repre- sent such scenes to the mind ; but whoever has had an opportunity of listening to the improvisator! of Italy, can easily form an idea of Demodocus and Phemius. However imperfect our ideas of the earliest heroic songs may remain after all which the poet has told us, the following positions may be inferred from it. First : The singers were at the same time poets ; they sang their own works ; there is no trace of their having *Od. viii. 492, etc. a leading passage. t Od. i. 352. ' /> oil, viii. 266, &c. 110 CHAPTER SIXTH. sung those of others. Farther : Their songs were poured forth from the inspiration of the moment ; or only reposed in their memory. In the former case, they were, in the full sense of the word, improvisatori ; and, in the latter, they must necessarily have remained in some measure improvisatori, for they lived in an age, which, even if it possessed the alphabet, seems never to have thought of committing poems to writing. The epic poetry of the Greeks did not continue to be mere extemporaneous effusions ; but it seems to us very probable, that such was its origin. Lastly : Although the song was sometimes accompanied by a dance illustrative of its subject, imitative gestures are never attributed to the bard himself. There are dancers for that. Epic poetry and the ballet can thus be united ; but the union was not essential, and probably took place only in the histories concerning the gods.* This union was very natural. Under the southern skies of Europe, no proper melody is required for the imitative dance, it is only necessary that the time should be distinctly marked. When the bard did this with his lyre, the dancers, as well as himself, had all that they required. This heroic poetry, which was so closely interwov- en with social life, that it could be spared at no cheer- ing banquet, was common no doubt throughout all Hellas. We hear its strains in, the island of the Phaeacians, no less than in the dwellings "of Ulysses and Manelaus. The poet does not bring before us strict contests in song; but we may learn, that the spirit of emulation was strong, and that some believed themselves already perfect in their art, from the story * As in tbe story of the amour of Mars and Venus. Od. viii. HOMER. THE EPIC POETS. Ill of the Thracian Thamyris, who wished to contend with the muses, and was punished for his daring hy the loss of the light of his eyes, and the art of song.* Epic poetry emigrated with the colonies to the shores of Asia. When we remember, that those settlements were made during the heroic age, and that in part the sons and posterity of the princes, in whose halls at Argos and Mycenae its echoes had formerly been heard, were the leaders of those expeditions^ this will hardly seem doubtful and still less im- probable. But that epic poetry should have first displayed its full glory in those regions, and should have raised itself to the sublimity and extent which it obtained ; was more than could have been expected. And yet it was so. Homer appeared. The his- tory of the poet and his works is lost in doubtful obscurity ; as is the history of many of the first minds who have done honour to humanity, because they arose amidst darkness. The majestic stream of his song, blessing and fertilizing, flows like the Nile through many lands and nations ; like the sources of the Nile, its fountains will remain concealed. It cannot be the object of these essays, to enter anew into these investigations, which probably have already been carried as far as the present state of criticism and learning will admit.J The modern inquirers can hardly be reproached with credulity, for nothing, which could be doubted, not even the existence of Homer himself, has been left unquestioned. *I1. Cat. Nav. 102. f As Orestes and his descendants. Jit is hardly "necessary to refer to the Excursus of Heyne, on the last book of the Iliad, and the Prolegomena of Wolf. 12 CHAPTER SIXTH. When once the rotten fabric of ancient belief was examined, no one of the pillars, on which it rested, could escape inspection. The general result was, that the whole building rested far more on the foun- dation of tradition, than of credible history ; but how far this foundation is secure, is a question, respecting which, the voices will hardly be able to unite. It seems of chief importance to expect no more than the nature of things makes possible. If the period of tradition in history is the region of twilight, we should not expect in it perfect light. The crea- tions of genius remain always half miracles, because they are, for the most part, created far from the reach of observation. If we were in possession of all the historic testimonies, we never could wholly explain the origin of the Iliad and the Odyssey; for their origin, in all essential points, must have remained the secret of the poet. But we can, to a certain extent, explain howjimder the circu instances of those times, an epic poet could arise ; how he could elevate his mind ; and how he could become of such importance to his nation and to posterity. This is all to which our inquiry should be directed. The age of Homer, according to all probability, was that in which the Ionian colonies flourished in the vigour of youth.* Their subsequent condition shows that this must have been so ; although history has not preserved for us any particular account on the subject It is easy to conceive, that in a country * The age of Homer is usually set about a century after the foundation of those colonies, about the year 950 before Christ. If it be true, that Lycur- gus, whose laws were given about the year 880, introduced his poems into Sparta, he cannot be much younger. We must leave to others the prosecu- tion of these inquiries. HOMER. THE EPIC POETS. 113 highly favoured by nature ; external circumstances could afford the poet many facilities, by means of the forms of social life, of which song was the companion. But the circumstances of the times afforded many greater advantages to poetic genius. The glimmerings of tradition were not yet depart- ed. The expedition against Troy, and the efforts of the earlier poets, had rather contributed so to mature the traditions, that they offered the noblest subjects for national poems. Before that time, the heroes of the several tribes had been of importance to none but their tribe ; but those who were distinguished in the com- mon undertaking against Troy, became heroes of the nation. Their actions and their sufferings awakened a general interest. Add to this, that these actions and adventures had already been celebrated by many of the early bards ; and that they had even then imparted to the whole of history the poetic character, which distinguished it. Time is always needed to mature tradition for the epic poet. The songs of a Phemius and aDemodocus, though the subjects of them were taken from that war, were but the first essays, which died away, as the ancient songs have done, in which the exploits of the crusaders were commemorat- ed. It was not till three hundred years after the loss of the Holy Land, that the poet appeared who was to celebrate the glory of Godfrey, in a manner worthy of the hero ; more time had perhaps passed after Achilles and Hector fell in battle, before the Grecian poet secured to them their immortality. The language no less than the subject had been improved in this age. Although neither all its words nor its phrases were limited in their use by strict 15 114 CHAPTER SIXTH. grammatical rules, it was by no means awkward or rough. It had for centuries been improved by the poets, and had now become a poetic language. It al- most seemed more easy to make use of it in verse than in prose ; and the forms of the hexameter, of which alone the epic poet made use, are extrenrely sim- ple.* The language voluntarily submitted to the poet, and there never was a tongue, in which inspira- tion could have poured itself forth with more readi- ness and ease. Under such circumstances it is intelligible, that when a sublime poetic genius arose among a people so fond of poetry and song as the lonians always were, the age was favourable to him ; although the elevated creations of his mind must continue to appear won- derful. There are two things, which in modern times appear most remarkable and difficult of explanation ; how a poet could have first conceived the idea of so extensive a whole, as the Iliad and the Odyssey ; and how he could have composed them, how he could have executed works of such extent, and how those works could have been preserved, without the aid of writing. With regard to the first point, criticism has en- deavoured to show, and has succeeded in showing, that these poems, especially the Iliad, possess by no means that perfect unity, which they were formerly believed to possess ; that rather many whole pieces have been interpolated or annexed to them ; and there hardly exists at present an inquiring scholar^ who can * How much easier it must have been to make extemporaneous verses in that measure, than in the oltara rima of the Italians. And yet the Italian wears its shackles with the greatest ease. HOMER. THE EPIC POETS. 115 persuade himself, that we possess them both in the same state, in which they came from the hands of the poet. But notwithstanding the more or less frequent interpolations, each has but one primary action; which, although it is interrupted by frequent episodes, could hardly have been introduced by any but the original author; and which does not permit us to consider either of these poems as a mere collection of scattered rhapsodies. It is certainly a gigantic step, to raise epic poetry to the unity of the chief action ; but the idea springs from the very nature of a narration ; and therefore it did not stand in need of a theory, which was foreign to the age ; genius was able of itself to take this step.* Herodotus did something similar in the department of history. We find it still more difficult to comprehend how works of this extent could have been planned and executed without the aid of an alphabet, and preserv- ed, probably for a long time, till they were finally saved from perishing by being committed to writing. We will not here repeat at large, what has already been said by others ; that a class of singers, devoted * A more plausible objection is this : that even if it be conceded, that it was possible to invent and execute such large poems, they would have an- swered no end, as they were too long to admit of being recited at once. But a reply may be made to this. The Iliad and Odyssy could not be recit- ed at a banquet. But there were public festivals and assemblies which last- ed many days, and Herodotus read aloud the nine books of his history, in a succession of days at Olympia. The Iliad and Odyssey, which, when free from interpolations, were perhaps much shorter than they now are, may have been recited in the course of several days. And if we may be permit- ted to indulge in conjecture, why may they not have been designed for such occasions ? That the Greeks were accustomed to intellectual enjoyments, interrupted and afterwards continued, appears from the Tetralogies of the Dramatists in a later age. This is characteristic of a nation, which even in its pleasures desired something more than pastime, and always aimed at gran- deur and beauty. 116 CHAPTER SIXTH. exclusively to this business, could easily preserve in memory much more ; that the poems were recited in parts, and therefore needed to be remembered only in parts ; and that even in a later age, when the Ho- meric poems had already been entrusted to writing, the rhapsodists still knew them so perfectly (as we must infer from the Ion of Plato), that they could readily recite any passage which was desired. But let us be permitted to call to mind a fact, which has come to light since the modern inquiries respecting Homer, and which proves, that poems of even greater extent than the Iliad and the Odyssey can live in the memory and mouths of a nation. The Dschangariade of the Cal- mucks is said to surpass the poems of Homer in length, as much as it stands beneath them in merit ;* and yet it exists only in the memory of a people, which is not unacquainted with writing. But the songs of a nation are probably the last things which are commit- ted to writing, for the very reason that they are re- membered. But whatever opinions may be entertained on the origin of these poems, and whether we ascribe them to one author or to several, it will hardly be doubted that they all belong, on the whole, to one age, which we call in a larger sense, the age of Homer. The * See on this subject B. Bergmann, Nomadische Streifereyen unter den Kalmycken. B. 2, S. 213, &c. This Calmuck Homer flourished in (he last century. He is said to have sung three hundred and sixty cantos ; but this number may be exaggerated. Of the singers, called Dschangartschi, it is not easy to find one, who knows more than twenty by heart. In the fourth part of his work, Mr. Bergmann has given us a translation of one of them, which is about equal in length to a rhapsody of Homer. It thus appears to be no uncommon thing for the Calmuck singers to retain in memory a poem quite as long as the Iliad or Odyssey. HOMER. THE EPIC POETS. 117 important fact is, that we possess them. Whatever hypothesis we may adopt on their origin and forma- tion, their influence on the Grecian nation and on posterity remains the same. And these are the topics which claim our regard. It was Homer who formed the character of the Greek nation. No poet has ever, as a poet, exercised a similar influence over his countrymen. Prophets, lawgivers, and sages have formed the character of other nations ; it was reserved to a poet to form that of the Greeks. This is a trait in their character, which could not be wholly erased even in the period of their degeneracy. When lawgivers and sages appeared in Greece, the work of the poet had already been accomplished ; and they paid homage to his superior genius. He held up before his nation the mirror, in which they were to behold the world of gods and heroes no less than of feeble mortals, and to behold them reflected with purity and truth. His poems are founded on the first feelings of human nature ; on the love of children, spouse, and country ; on that passion which outweighs all others, the love of glory. His songs were poured forth from a breast, which sympathized with all the feelings of man ; and therefore they enter and will continue to enter every breast, which cherishes the same sympathies. If it is granted to his immortal spirit, from another heaven than any of which he dreamed on earth, to look down on his race, to see the nations from the fields of Asia, to the forests of Hercynia, performing pilgrimages to the fountain, which his magic wand caused to flow ; if it is permitted to him to overlook the whole harvest of grand, of elevat- 118 CHAPTER SIXTH. ed, of glorious productions, which have been called into being by means of his songs ; wherever his immor- tal spirit may reside, nothing more can be required to complete his happiness. Wherever writing is known, where it is used for the purpose of preserving poems, and thus a poetic literature is formed, the muse loses her youthful fresh- ness. Works of the greatest merit may still be pro- duced ; but poetry exerts its full influence only so long as it is considered inseparable from song and reci- tation. The H omeric poems were therefore so far from having produced a less considerable effect, because they for a long time were not written down, that the source of their strength lay in this very circumstance. They entered the memory and the soul of the nation. If we were better acquainted with the forms of social life, which were prevalent in the cities of Ionia, and with which poetry necessarily stood in the closest union, we should be able to judge more definitely of its effects. The nature of things^seems to show, that there, as in the mother country, they must have been sung at festivals and assemblies, whether public or private. This custom was so deeply fixed in the nation, that it continued long after these poems were committed to writing, and were thus accessible to a reader, and in fact, that it was declamation, which continued to give them their full effect. We need but call to mind the remark, which Ion, the rhapsodist, makes to Socrates ;* '* I see the hearers now weep and now rise in passion, and appear as if deprived of sensation." If the rhapsodists in an age, when all that was divine in their art, had passed away, and *Plat. Op. iv. p. 190. HOMER. THE EPIC POETS. . IIS when they sung only for money, could produce such effects, how great must have been their influence in the period of their greatest glory. Since the time of Homer, and chiefly through him, great changes in the relations of the class of bards necessarily took place ; and the traces of such changes are still distinct. Originally they sang only their own compositions, but now it became the custom to sing those of others, which they had committed to memory. In that part of Asia which was inhabited by Greeks, and especially at Chios, where Homer is said to have lived,* a particular school of bards was formed which, even among the ancients, were known by the name of the HomeridsB. Whether these consisted originally of the family relations of the poet, is a question of no interest ; it became the name of those rhapsodists, who sang the poems of Homer, or those attributed to him. They are therefore distinguished from the earlier rhapsodists by this, that they sang not their own works, but those of others ; and this appears to have been the first change, which was effected, though without design, by Homer. But we may find in the gradual progress of the cities, and the modes of living in them, a chief cause of a change in the rhapsodists, which could not be very advantageous for them. In these cities, there may have been houses * According to the well-known passage in the hymn to Apollo, cited by Thucydides iii. 104. " A blind man ; he dwells on the rocky Chios ; and his songs are the first among men." Even if this hymn be not by Homer (the age of Thucydides esteemed it certainly his), it must have been com- posed in an age, which approached that of Homer. That Homer was an in- habitant of Chios, is an account, for the truth of which we have no guaranty but tradition. But that tradition is a very ancient one, and the account con- tains nothing which is in itself improbable, or which should induce us to doubt its accuracy. 120 CHAPTER SIXTH. of the opulent, and public halls,* in which they could recite ; but they found no longer the dwellings of heroes and kings. Little confidence as we may place in the life of Homer attributed to Herodotus, and several other writings ; it is still remarkable, that all unite in describing the fortunes of the poet during his lifetime, as by no means splendid. But his songs continued to live, and, probably in the very first cen- tury after the poet, were carried by Lycurgus into the Peloponnesus ; and from the same school, other epic poets also started up, whose works have been swallowed by the stream of time.f A happy accident has preserved for us the general contents of a few of them ;J but, though these accounts are meagre, we may still infer from them, that even among the ancients, they were chiefly of interest to the professed student of literature, and that they never gained any * The >.%*/. We are almost involuntarily reminded of similar appearances, which marked the decline of the poetry of chivalry. t The Cyclic poets, as they are called, who treated subjects of mytholog- ical tradition, or the cyclus of traditions respecting the Trojan expedition. See on this subject, Excurs. i. ad /Eneid. L. ii. ed. Heynii. t In the selections of Proclus, in Bibl. d. alten Litt. und Kunst. St. i. Ine- dita p. 1. etc. These are 1. the Cyprian poem, probably by Stasinus of Cyprus. It contained, in eleven books, the earlier events of the Trojan war before the action of the Iliad. 2. The JEthiopis of Arctinus the Milesian; containing, in five books, the expedition and death of Memnon. 3. The small Iliad of Lesches of Mitylene ; embracing, in four books, the contention of Ajax and Ulysses, till the preparation of theTrojan horse. 4. The destruction of Troy ('Lu'v ri^eii) of Arctinus, in two books. 5. The return of the heroes (*T), of Augias, infive books. 6. The Telegoniad,or fates of Ulysses afterhis return, by Eugammon, in two books. The contents of these poems, as here given, show, that no one of them can be compared, in point of plan, with the epopees-of Homer. But these poems also must for a long time have have been preserved by song alone ; for their authors, although some what youuger than Homer, still lived in times, when, according to all that we know, letters were but little used, or perhaps entirely unknown. HOMER. THE EPIC POETS. 121 claim to be called national poems. But the works of these, and so many others, of whom we know only the names, show how generally epic poetry was extended among the nation. After the epic language had once been perfected by Homer, it remained peculiar to this kind of poetry ; and when we read the works of much later poets, of Quintus, or of Nonnus, we might believe ourselves employed on authors many centuries older than they, had we not other evidence beside their language to fix the period in which they lived. That the dialect of Homer remained the principal one for this class of poetry, had an important influence on Grecian literature. Amidst all the changes and improvements in lan- guage, it prevented the ancient from becoming anti- quated, and secured it a place among the later modes of expression. This was a gain for the language and for the nation. With the dialect of Homer, his spirit continued in some measure to live among the epic poets. Language cannot of itself make a poet ; but yet how much depends on language. If in those later poets we occasionally hear echoes of Homer, is it not sometimes his spirit which addresses us? But his influence on the spirit of his countrymen was much more important, than his influence on their language. He had delineated the world of heroes in colours which can never fade. He had made it present to posterity ; and thus the artist and the tragic poet found a sphere opened for the employment of their powers of representation. And the scenes from which they drew their subjects, could not have remained foreign to their countrymen. We do but touch on this subject, in order to say something on 16 122 CHAPTER SIXTH. the point, which lies particularly within the circle of our inquiries ; the influence which Homer and the epic poets exercised on the political character of their countrymen. When we compare the scanty fragments which are still extant, respecting the circulation and pres- ervation of the poems of Homer, it is remarkable that in Hellas itself, the lawgivers and rulers were the most active in making them known and in saving them from perishing. Lycurgus, we are told, was the first who introduced them into the Pelopon- nesus by means of the rhapsodists ; Solon esteemed the subject so important, that in his code of laws, he formed distinct regulations, in conformity to which it seems probable that the several rhapsodies were recit- ed, not as before without method, but in their natural order by several rhapsodists, who relieved each other at intervals. All this prepared for the undertaking of Pisistratus ; who, according to the accounts of the ancients, not only arranged the poems of Homer, but gained a claim to the eternal gratitude of posterity, by committing them to writing.* This care in those illustrious men did not result from a mere admiration of poetry. That it was con- nected with their political views, if it needs such con- firmation, appears from the circumstance, that Solon introduces it into his laws. Were we to form a judgment on this subject from the narrow views of our own times, it would seem strange, that they who founded or confirmed the government of a number, even a democracy, should have laboured to extend the * The passages in proof of this are collected and duly weighed in the Prolegomena of Wolf, p. 139, &c. HOMER. THE EPIC POETS. 123 productions of a bard, who was opposed to their prin- ciples, and declares his political creed without dis- guise ;* " no good comes of the government of the many; let one be ruler, and one be king;" and in whose works, as we have already remarked, repub- licanism finds no support. But their views were not so limited. Their object was not to confirm, by means of the poet, their own institutions and their own laws. They desired to animate their nation with a love for excellence and sublimity. Poetry and song, indissolubly united, seemed to them the fittest means of gaining that end. These had the greatest influ- ence on the intellectual culture of the people. And if that culture lay within the sphere of the Grecian lawgivers (and it always did, though in different degrees), of what importance in their eyes must that poet have been, whose poems, above all others, were recited by the class of rhapsodists, that lent a glory to the national festivals and assemblies ? Solon, himself one of the first of moral poets, could not but per- ceive, how much experience and knowledge of the world are contained in those books, with which youth is begun, and to which age returns. No fear was entertained, lest the narrations respecting the gods should be injurious to morals ; although that fear afterwards induced Plato to banish them from his republic ; the philosopher, who but for Homer, never could have become Plato. For, as we have already remarked, the gods were not held up as models for imitation. But whilst the people was enriching itself with that infinite treasure of practical wisdom, it con- tinued at the same time to live in a world of heroes, * n. ii. 204. 124 CHAPTER SIXTH. and to preserve a taste for objects of beauty. It is impossible to estimate the consequences which resulted from this, the gain of the nation as a nation, by the encouragement of its warlike spirit, by the preserva- tion of its love of liberty and independence. In one respect, those lawgivers were unquestionably in the right; a nation, of which the culture rested on the Iliad and Odyssey, could not easily be reduced to a nation of slaves. PRESERVATION OP THE NATIONAL CHARACTER. 125 CHAPTER SEVENTH. MEANS OF PRESERVING THE NATIONAL CHARACTER. THE Greeks, though divided at home, and extend- ed widely in foreign countries, always considered themselves as forming but one nation. The character of the Hellenes was no where obliterated ; the citizen of Massilia and Byzantium, retained it no less than the Spartan and Athenian. The name barbarian, although it was applied to all who were not Greeks, conveyed a secondary idea, which was closely inter- woven with the Grecian character ; that they esteem- ed themselves more cultivated than the rest of the world. It was not that gross kinjl of national pride, which despises all foreigners because they are foreign- ers ; even where it was in itself unjust, its origin was a just one. But this higher culture could never have remained a bond of national union, the different tribes of the Hellenes possessed it in such different degrees. Ex- ternal marks were therefore needed. These were afforded by two things; by language, and certain institutions sanctioned by religion. Various and different as were the dialects of the Hellenes,* and these differences existed not only among the various tribes, but even among the several neighbouring cities, they yet acknowl- edged in their language, that they formed but one * See what Herodotus says of the dialects of the Grecian cities in Asia ; }. 142. 126 CHAPTER SEVENTH. nation, were but branches of the same family. Those who were not Greeks, were described even by Ho- mer,* as " men of other tongues ;" and yet Homer had no general name for the nation. But though the bond of a common language may be a natural and an indissoluble one, something more is required to make it serve as the bond of national union. The language must be not merely the instrument of communicating thoughts ; for it is that to every savage ; something must exist in it, which may be regarded as the common property of the nation, because it is precious and dear to them ; the works of poets, and next to them, of prose writers, which are admired, listened to, and read by all. It is such productions which make a language pe- culiarly valuable to a nation. The national spirit, and manner of thinking and feeling, are expressed in them ; the nation beholds in them its own portrait ; and sees the continuance of its spirit among future generations secured. They form not only its common property, in which each tribe, according to the strict meaning of the word, has its undisputed share ; they form its most sublime, its noblest, its least perishable property. In what a light, therefore, do Homer, and those who trod in his footsteps appear, when they are considered from this point of view. Their poems, listened to and admired by all who used the Greek language, reminded the inhabitants of Hellas, of Ionia, and of Sicily, in the liveliest manner, that they were brothers. When we consider the long series of ages, during which the poems of Homer and the Homeridse were the only common possession of the Hellenes, it may even be made a question, whether without them they H. ii. 867, PRESERVATION OF THE NATIONAL CHARACTER. 127 would have remained a nation. National poetry was therefore the bond, which held them together ; but this bond was strengthened by another ; by that of religion. Unlike the religions of the East, the religion of the Hellenes was supported by no sacred books, was con- nected with no peculiar doctrines ; it could not, there- fore, serve like the former, to unite a nation by means of a common religious creed ; but it was fitted for gain- ing that end, in so far as the external rites of religion afforded opportunities. But as the nation had no cast of priests, nor even a united order of priesthood, it naturally followed, that though individual temples could in a certain degree become national temples, this must depend, for the most part, on accidental circumstances ; and where every thing was voluntary, nothing could be settled by established forms like those which prevailed in other countries. The tem- ples at Olympia, Dclos, and Delphi, may justly be denominated national temples, although not in the same sense in which we call those of the Jews and the Egyptians national ; but their effects were perhaps only more considerable and more secure, because every thing connected with them was voluntary. The fruits of civilization came forth, and were matured, under the protection of these sanctuaries also ; though not in the same manner as in Egypt and Ethiopia ;* and if we hear of their national festivals,! their ora- cles, and their Amphictyonic assemblies, other ideas are connected with them, than in other countries. But while we enumerate them individually, let it not *Heeren. Ideen. etc. Th. ii. S. 477, &c. f The Greek word for them, is xKinyvpis. 128 CHAPTER SEVENTH. be forgotten, that all these fruits ripened on one and the same branch ; that they, therefore, closely united, could ripen only together ; that by this very means they gained a higher value in the eyes of the nation ; and that this value must be estimated by their influ- ence, rather than by what they were in themselves. We shall hardly be mistaken, if we consider those sanctuaries the most ancient, which were celebrated for their oracles. Those of Dodona and Delphi were declared to be so by the voice of the nation ; and both of them, especially that of Delphi, were so far superior to the rest, that they are in some measure to be esteemed as the only national oracles.* We leave to others all farther investigation of these insti- tutions ; the question which claims our attention, is how far they contributed to preserve the spirit and the union of the nation. They did not effect this by being regarded as intended only for the Hellenes. Foreigners also were permitted to consult the oracles ; and to recompense the answers which they received by consecrated presents. But this took place only in individual cases ; and was done probably by none but rulers and kings, from the time when Alyattes first made application at Delphi. f In other cases, the difference of language was alone sufficient to keep *Tbe number of Grecian oracles, constantly increasing, became, as is well known, exceedingly numerous. With the exception of that of Dodona, which was of Egj ptio-Pelasgic origin, ihe oracles of the Greeks were almost exclusively connected with the worship of Apollo. We know of more than fifty of his oracles ; (see Bulcnger de oraculis et vatibus, in Thes. Ant. Gr. vol. vii.) of the few others, the more celebrated owed their origin to the same god, as those of Mopsus and Trophonius to whom he had imparted the gift of prophesying. How much of the rites of religion among the Hellenes depended on the religion of Apollo. There is no want 01 learned compilations on these subjects ; but a wide field seems here to be opened to the philo- sophic historian. t Herod, i. 19. PRESERVATION OF THE NATIONAL CHARACTER. 129 foreigners away, as the Pythian priestess spoke al- ways in Greek. These institutions belonged, if not exclusively, yet principally to the Hellenes ; of whom both individuals and cities could always have access to them. They formed the connecting link between politics and the popular religion. Their great polit- ical influence, especially in the states of the Doric race, is too well known from history to make it ne- cessary for us to adduce proofs of it. That influence doubtless became less after the Persian wars. Wheth- er this diminution of influence was injurious or advan- tageous cannot easily be decided. When the recip- rocal hatred of the Athenians and Spartans excited them to the fury of civil war, how much suffering would have been spared to Greece, if the voice of the gods had been able to avert the storm. But the affairs of th Delphic temple were still considered as the concern of the Grecian nation ; and even after infidel- ity had usurped the place of the ancient superstition, the violation of the sanctuary gave the politicians a pretence, sufficient to kindle a civil war, which was destined to cost Greece its liberties. Among the numerous festivals which the several Grecian cities were accustomed to celebrate, there were some, which from causes that are no longer well known, or were perhaps quite accidental, soon became really national. At these, foreigners could be specta- tors ; but the Hellenes alone were permitted to contend for the prizes. The right to do so belonged to the in- habitant of the farthest colony, as well as of the mother country, and was esteemed inalienable and invaluable. Even princes were proud of the privilege, for which the Persian king himself would have sued in vain, 17 130 CHAPTER SEVENTH. of sending their chariots to the races of Olyinpia. Every one has learned from the hymns of Pindar, that, beside the Olympic contests, the Pythian games at Delphi, the Nemean at Argos, and the Isthmian at Corinth, belong to the same class. As to the origin of these games, Homer does not make mention of them, which he would hardly have neglected to do, if they had existed or been famous in his day. Yet the foundation of them was laid in so remote a period of antiquity, that it is attributed to gods and heroes. Uncertain as are these traditions, it is remarkable, that a different origin is attributed to each one oC-them. Those of Olympia were instituted by Hercules, on his victorious return, and were design- ed as contests in bodily strength ; those of Delphi were in their origin nothing but musical exercises ; although others were afterwards added to them. Those of Nemea were originally funeral games ; res- pecting the occasion of instituting those of the Isthmus, there are different accounts.* But whatever may have been the origin of the games, they became national ones. This did not certainly take place at once ; and we should err, if we should apply the accounts given us of the Olympic games in the flourishing periods of Greece, to the earlier ages. On the contrary, from the accurate registers which were kept by the judges, we learn most distinctly, with respect to these games, that they gained their importance and character by de- grees, f They have not forgotten to mention, when * All the passages on the origin and the arrangements of the games, may he found collected in Schmidtii Prolegomenis ad Pindarum; Potter's Archa>- ologia; and Corsini Disertiones agomslicae ; and others. t See Pausanias in EHacis, 1. v. 9. PRESERVATION OF THE NATIONAL CHARACTER. 131 the different kinds of contests (for at first there were none but in racing), were permitted and adopted. But still these games gained importance, although it was only by degrees ; and the time came, when they merited to be celebrated by a Pindar. In this manner, therefore, these festivals and the games connected with them, received a national char- acter. They were peculiar to the Grecians ; and on that account also were of great utility. " Those are justly praised," Isocrates* very happily observes, 61 who instituted these famous assemblies, and thus made it customary for us to come together as allies, having set aside our hostilities; to increase our friendship by recalling our relationship in our com- mon vows and sacrifices ; to renew our ancient family friendships, and to form new ones. They have pro- vided, that neither the unpolished nor the well edu- cated should leave the games without profit ; but that in this assembly of the Hellenes in one place, some may display their wealth, and others observe the con- tests, and none be present without a purpose, but each have something of which to boast ; the one part, while they see those engaged in the contests making exertions on their account ; the other, when they consider that all this concourse of people has assem- bled, to be spectators of their contests. 77 The accounts which we read of the splendor of these games, especially of the Olympic, where the nation of the Hellenes appeared in its glory, give a high idea of them. And yet it was public opinion, far more than the reality, which gave to the crown of victory its value. The glory of being conqueror *Isocrates. Panegyr.Op p. 49, Steph. 132 CHAPTER SEVENTH. in them, was the highest with which the Grecian was acquainted ; it conferred honour, not only on him who won the palm, but on his family and on his native city. He was not honoured in Olympia alone ; his victory was the victory of his native place : here he was solemnly received ; new festivals were insti- tuted on his account ; he had afterwards a right of living at the public charge in the prytanea. A vic- tory at Olympia, says Cicero with truth,* rendered the victor illustrious, no less than his consulate the Roman consul. The tournaments of the middle age were something similar; or might have become something similar, if the relations of society had not prevented. But as a distinct line of division was drawn between the classes, they became interesting to but one class. Birth decided who could take a part in them, and who were excluded. There was nothing of that among the Hellenes. The lowest of the people could join at Olympia in the contest for the branch of the sacred olive-tree, as well as Alci blades, or even the ruler of Syracuse with all the splendor of his equipage. The influence on the political relations of the Grecian states, was perhaps not so great as Isocrates represents. A solemnity of a few days could hardly be sufficient to cool the passions and still the mu- tual enmities of the several tribes. History men- tions no peace, which was ever negotiated, and still less which was ever concluded at Olympia. But so much the greater was the influence exercised over the culture of the nation ; and if the culture of a nation Cicero. Quawt. Tusc. ii. 17. PRESERVATION OF THE NATIONAL CHARACTER. 133 decides its character, our plan requires of us to pause and consider it. In all their institutions, when they are considered in the light in which the Greeks regarded them, we shall commonly find proofs of the noble dispositions of the Hellenes. And these are to be observed in the games, where every thing, which was in itself beau- tiful and glorious ; bodily strength and skill in box- ing, wrestling, and running ; the splendor of opu- lence, as displayed in the equipages for the charlP ot races ; excellence in poetry, and soon also in other intellectual productions, were here rewarded with their prize. But the degree of importance assigned to the productions of mind was not every where the same. Musical contests,* in which the Greeks united poetry, song, and music, were common in those larger games, as well as in those hardly less splendid ones, which were instituted in the several cities. But there was a difference in their relative importance. At Olympia, though they were not entirely excluded, they were yet less essential ;f they formed from the beginning the primary object in the Pythian games. They held the same rank in several * The Greeks made a distinction between iyun; ri/, and this right was valued very highly. PRESERVATION OP THE NATIONAL CHARACTEft. 139 questions respecting them can be answered ; and those who speak of them do not agree with each other. But from a comparison of their statements, we may infer, that though this Amphictyonia did not by any means embrace the whole of the Hellenes, yet the most con- siderable states of the mother country and of Asia Mi- nor took part in it. According to JEschines,* there were twelve of them, (although he enumerates but eleven) ; Thessalians, Boeotians, (not the Thebans only, he expressly remarks) ; Dorians, lonians, Per- rhsebians, Magnesians, Phthiotians, Maleans,f Pho- cians, (Etaeans, Locrians ; the twelfth state was probably that of the inhabitants of Delphi themselves. Every city belonging to these tribes, had the right of sending deputies ; the smallest had an equal right with the largest ; and the votes of all were equal ; of the lonians, says /Eschines, the deputies from Ere- tria in Eubcea and from Priene in Asia Minor,! were equal to those from Athens ; of the Dorians, those from Dorium in Laconia, and from Cytinium on Par- nassus, had as much weight as those from Lacedaemon. But the votes were not counted by cities, but by * ^schines de Falsa Legatione iii. p. 285, ed. Reisk. This is the most impor- tant passage. St. Croix, p. 27, has compared the discrepant accounts of Pausani- as x. p. 815, and Harpocration v. AfttfiKruatm. The authority of JLschines, res- pecting his own times, seems to me of more weight than all the others ; and there- fore I follow him alone. No one had better means of information than he. But many changes in the regulations were subsequently made by the Macedonians and the Romans. t The four last were all in Thessaly. The reason of their being thus distinguished from the rest of the Thessalians is probably to be found in the privilege, which they had preserved, of a separate vote. Herodotus vii, 132, divides them in the same manner. J It is therefore certain, that the individual colonies in Asia Minor partici- pated In the assembly. We might suggest the question, whether all the Asiatic colonies, and whether colonies in other regions, did the same. 140 CHAPTER SEVENTH. tribes ; each tribe had two votes, and the majority decided.* And how large was the sphere of action, in which this assembly was accustomed to exert its influence? Its first duty was to take charge of the temple ; its property ; its presents, the offerings of piety ; its sanctity. From this it naturally follows, that the assembly possessed judiciary powers. Persons who had committed sacrilege on the temple, were summon- ed before its tribunal, where judgment was passed and the acts of penance and punishment decreed.f But to these, political objects were added at a very early period ; such as the preservation of peace among the confederates, and the accommodating of contentions, which had arisen. We have, it is true, no proof, that those who participated in the assembly, considered themselves as nearly allied to each other ; but it is as little doubtful, that under the protection of this sanctuary, certain ideas arose and were diffus- ed, which might be considered as forming, in some measure, the foundation of a system of national law, although it was never brought to maturity. Of this \ve have indisputable proof in the ancient oaths, which were taken by all the members of the assembly, and which have been preserved by /Eschines.J " I *For all farther knowledge which we have of the regulations of the Am- phictyonic council, we are indebted to Strabo ix. p. 289. According to him each city sent a deputy. These assembled twice a year, at the equinoxes. We are ignorant of the length of the sessions of the assembly, whether any definite time was fixed for them, or not ; and of many other things respect- ing them. f A* for instance, against the Phocians at the beginning of the last sacred war, and afterwards against the Locrians. Demosthenes has preserved for us two of these decrees (5fl'y/tT), Op. i. p. 278. Reisk. From them we learn the forms in which they were written. t jEschines, 1. c. p. 284. PRESERVATION OF THE NATIONAL CHARACTER. 141 read," says the orator, " in the assembly the oaths, to which the heaviest imprecations were attached ; and by which our ancestors* were obliged to promise never to destroy any one of the Amphictyonic cities, f nor to cut off their streams,^ whether in war or in peace ; should any city dare, notwithstanding, to do so, to take up arms against it and lay it waste ; and if any one should sin against the god, or form any scheme against the sanctuary, to oppose him with hand and foot, and word and deed." This form of oath, it cannot be doubted, was very ancient, and expresses with sufficient clearness, the original objects of the confederation. But it shows equally distinctly, that the attainment of these ends depended much more on the circumstances and condition of the age, than on the members of the council themselves. To him who measures the value of this assembly, only by the influence which it had in preventing wars among the tribes that took part in it, its utility may seem very doubtful ; as history has preserved no proofs of such influence. But even if it had existed in the earliest ages, it must have ceased of itself, when individual states of Greece became so powerful, as to assume a supremacy over the rest. Sparta and Athens referred the decision of their quarrels to Del- phi, as little as Prussia and Austria to Ratisbon. But it would be wrong to impute the blame of this to the members of the council. They had no strong arm, except when the god extended his to protect them ; or some other power took arms in their behalf. But it is a high degree of merit to preserve principles in * o; *fx*iti. f Anufranv -rair,onnesu-." || The a.uTnoft.ii and the UVYIKOOI, both of whom were still bound to pay the taxes, (ivraTi>u7s) Mr. Manso, in his acute illustration of the Hegtmonia, Sparta B. iii. Beylage 12. 13. distinguishes three classes; those who contributed ships, but no money ; those who contributed nothing but money ; and those who were at once sub- ject and tributary. The nature of things seems to require, that it should have been so ; yet Thucydides vi. 69. makes no difference between the two last. IT Plutarch. Op. ii. p. r,y.v ** Thucyd. vii. 28. 156 CHAPTER EIGHTH. power, which Athens usurped over the allies ; not merely in the differences, which arose between the states, but also in private suits.* Individuals were obliged to go to Athens to transact their business, and in consequence, to the great advantage of the Athe- nian householders, innkeepers, and the like, a multi- tude of foreigners were constantly in that city, in order to bring their affairs to an issue. .It is therefore obvious, that the nature of the Athenian supremacy was changed. It had been at first a voluntary association, and now it had become, for far the larger number of the states that shared in it, a forced one. That several of the confederates were continually striving to break free from the alliance, has been shown by the examples cited above ; but it is easy to perceive, how difficult, or rather how impossible it was, to effect a general union between them against Athens. If they had been desirous of attempting it, how great were the means possessed by Athens, of anticipating them. Yet there was one moment, when, but for their almost inconceivable want of forethought, an attempt might have justly been expected from them ; and that period was the close of the war with Persia. f The Greeks framed their articles in the treaty of peace ; and had nothing farther to fear from the Persians. The whole object of the con- federacy was therefore at an end. And yet we do not hear that any voices were then raised against Athens. On the other side, it may with propriety be asked, if justice did not require of the Athenians, to volun- tarily restore to the allies their liberty. But this ' See, upon this subject, Xenopb. de Rep. Athen. Op. 94. ed. Leunclav. t In the year 449 befo.e Christ. THE PERSIAN WARS AND THEIR CONSEQUENCES. 157 question will hardly be put by a practical states- man. To free the allies from their subordination would have been to deprive Athens of its splendor ; to dry up a chief source of the revenues of the republic ; perhaps to pave the way to its ruin. What Athenian statesman would have dared to make such a proposition. Had he made it, could he have carried it through? Would he not rather have ensured his own downfall ? There are examples where single rulers, weary of power, have freely resigned it ; but a people never yet voluntarily gave up authority over subject nations. Perhaps these remarks may contribute to rectify the judgments of Isocrates,* in his celebrated accusa- tion of the dominion of the sea ;f which he consider- ed as the source of all the misery of Athens and of Greece. The views which he entertained were cer- tainly just; but the evils proceeded from the abuses; and it were just as easy to show, that his celebrated Athens, but for that dominion, never would have afforded him a subject for his panegyrics. But how those evils could result from that abuse ; how they prepared the downfall of Athens, when Sparta appeared as the deliverer of Greece ; how the rule of these deliverers, much worse than that of the first oppressors, inflicted on Greece wounds, which * We shall be obliged to recur frequently to Isocrates. It is impossible to r?ad the venerable orator, who was filled with the purest patriotism which a Grecian could feel, without respecting and loving him. But he was a politi- cal wetter, without being a practical statesman ; and, like St. Pierre and other excellent men of the same class, he believed much to be possible which was not so. The historian must consult him with deliberation. This panegyrist of antiquity often regarded it in too advantageous a light, and is, besides, little concerned about the accuracy of his historical delineations. t Isocrat. Op. p. 172. ed. Steph. 158 CHAPTER EIGHTH. were not only deep, but incurable ; in general, the causes which produced the ruin of that country, remain to furnish a subject for investigation in one of the later chapters, to which we must make our way through some previous researches. CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN STATES. 159 CHAPTER NINTH. CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN STATES. IN the present chapter, we do not undertake to give an outline of the several Grecian states ; but rather to delineate the general characteristics of the Grecian forms of government. Such a general inves- tigation seems the more essential, as it would obvious- ly be impossible to analyze each one of them. With respect to a nation, in which every thing that could be done in public, was public ; where every thing great and glorious was especially the result of this public life ; where even private life was identified with that of the public ; where the individual did but live with, and for the state, this investigation must have a much higher degree of interest, than if it related to any other, in which the line of division is distinctly drawn between public and private life. He who will judge of the Grecians, must be acquainted with the constitutions of their states ; and he must not only consider the inanimate forms, as they are taught us by the learned compilers and writers on what are called Grecian Antiquities ; but regard them as they were regarded by the Greeks themselves. If the remark, which we made above,* that the Grecian states, with few exceptions, were cities with their districts, and their constitutions, therefore, the constitutions of cities ; if this remark needed to be * In the fifth chapter. 160 CHAPTER NINTH. farther confirmed, it could be done by referring to the fact, that the Greeks designate the ideas of state and of city by the same word.* We must therefore always bear in mind the idea of city constitutions, and never forget that those of which we are treating, not only had nothing in common with those of the large empires of modern times, but not even with those of the smaller principalities. If for the sake of giving a distinct representation, we were to compare them with any thing in modern history, we could best compare them, as the character of the Italian cities of the middle age is hardly more familiar than that of the Grecian, with the imperial towns in Germany, especially in the days of their prosperity, previous to the thirty years 7 war, before they were limited in the freedom of their movements by the vicinity of more powerful mon- archical states ; were it not that the influence of the difference of religion created a dissimilarity. And yet this comparison may throw some light on the great variety, which is observed in those states, in spite of the apparent uniformity which existed among the Grecian states (as all were necessarily similar in some respects), and which equally existed in those German cities. And the comparison will be still more justified, if we add, that the extent of ter- ritory was as different among the Grecian cities, and yet on the whole was nearly the same. There were few, which possessed a larger territory, than formerly belonged to Ulm and Nuremberg; but in Greece as in Germany, the prosperity of the city did not depend Tlo>.i;, cirilas. Respecting the meaning of Wx/j, and the difference be- tween -r'o\, s and M, state, and nation, consult Aristot. Polit. Op. ii. p. 23-3. ed. Casaub. CONSTITUTIONS OT THE GRECIAN CITIES. 161 on the extent of its territory. Corinth hardly pos- sessed a larger district than that of Augsburg ; and yet both rose to an eminent degree of opulence and culture. But great as this variety in the constitutions may have been (and we shall illustrate this subject? more fully hereafter), they all coincided in one grand point. They all were free constitutions ; that is, they allowed of no rulers, whom the people as a body, or certain classes of the people, could not call to account ;* he, who usurped such authority, was, in the language of the Greeks, a tyrant. In this the idea is contained, that the state shall govern itself; and not be governed by an individual; and of course a very different view of the state was taken from the modern European notion. The view of the Greeks was entirely opposed to that of those modern politi- cians, who conceive of the state as a mere machine ; and of those also, who would make of it nothing but an institution of police. The Greeks regarded the state, no less than each individual, as a moral person. Moral powers have influence in it, and decide its plans of operation. Hence it becomes the great object of him who would manage a state, to secure to reason the superiority over passion and desire ; and the attainment of virtue and morality, is in this sense an object of the state, just as it should be of the indi- vidual. If with these previous reflections we proceed to investigate the laws of the Greeks, they will present themselves to our view in their true light. The *Aristot. Polit. Op. ii. p. 251, 282. The magistrates must be responsible for their administration, vnMuiei. as the Greeks expressed it. 21 162 CHAPTER NINTH. constitutions of their cities, like those of the moderns, were framed by necessity, and developed by circum- stances. But as abuses are much sooner felt in small states and towns, than in large ones, the necessity of reforms was early felt in many of them ; and this necessity occasioned lawgivers to make their appear- ance, much before the spirit of speculation had been occupied on the subject of politics. The objects therefore of those lawgivers, were altogether practi- cal ; and, without the knowledge of any philosophical system, they endeavoured to accomplish them by means of reflection and experience. A commonwealth could never have been conceived of by them, except as governing itself; and on this foundation they rested their codes. It never occurred to them, to look for the means of that self-government, to nothing but the forms of government ; and although those forms were not left unnoticed in their codes, yet they were noticed only to a certain degree. No Grecian lawgiver ever thought of abolishing entirely the ancient usage, and becoming, according to the phrase now in vogue, the framers of a new constitution. In giving laws, they only reformed. Lycurgus, Solon, and the rest, so far from abolishing what usage had established, endeav- oured to preserve every thing which could be pre- served ; and only added, in part, several new institu- tions, and in part made for the existing ones better regulations. If we possessed therefore the whole of the laws of Solon, we should by no means find them to contain a perfect constitution. But to compensate for that, they embraced, not only the rights of indi- viduals, but also morals, in a much higher degree, than the latter can be embraced in the view of any CONSTITUTIONS OP THE GRECIAN CITIES. 163 modern lawgiver. The organization of private life, and hence the education of youth,* on which the prevalence and continuance of good morals depend, formed one of their leading objects. They were deep- ly convinced, that that moral person, the state, would otherwise be incapable of governing itself. To this it must be added, that in these small commonwealths, in these towns with their territories, many regula- tions could be made and executed, which could not be put into operation in a powerful and widely extended nation. Whether these regulations were always good, and always well adapted to their purpose, is quite another question ; it is our duty at present to show, from what point of view those law- givers were accustomed to regard the art of regulating the state, and the means of preserving and directing it.f Whenever a commonwealth or city governs itself, it is a fundamental idea, that the supreme power resides with its members, with the citizens. But it may rest with the citizens collectively, or only with certain classes, or perhaps only with certain families. Thus there naturally arose among the Greeks that difference, which they designated by the names of Aristocracies and Democracies ; and to one of these two classes, they referred all their constitutions. But it is not easy to draw a distinct line between the two. W T hen we are speaking of the meaning which they bore in practical politics, we must beware of taking them in that signification, which was after- wards given them by the speculative politicians, by * Aristot. Polit. Op. ii. p. 301, 336. tThis taken together, forms what the Greeks called political science 164 CHAPTER NINTH. Aristotle* and others. In their practical politics, the Greeks no doubt connected certain ideas with those denominations ; but the ideas were not very distinctly defined ; and the surest way of erring would be, to desire to define them more accurately than was done by the Greeks themselves. The fundamental idea of democracy was, that all citizens, as such, should enjoy equal rights in the administration of the state; and yet a perfect equality existed in very few of the cities. This equality was commonly limited to a par- ticipation in the popular assemblies and the courts. f A government did not cease to be a democracy, though the poorer class were entirely excluded from all ma- gistracies, and their votes of less weight in the popular assemblies. On the other hand, an aristocracy always presupposed exclusive privileges of individual classes or families. But these were very different and vari- ous. There were hereditary aristocracies, where, as in Sparta, the highest dignities continued in a few families. But this was seldom the case. It was commonly the richer and more distinguished class, which obtained the sole administration of the state ; and it was either wealth, or birth, or both together, that decided.^ But wealth consisted not so much in money, as in land ; and it was estimated by real estate. This wealth was chiefly exhibited, in ancient times, in the sums expended on horses. Those whose *lf here, in investigating the practical meaning of those words, we can make no use of the theoretical definitions of Aristotle in his Politics, we would not by nny means give up the right of citing him as of authority in the hislory of the Greek constitutions, in so far as he himself speaks of them. And whose testimony on these subjects deserves more weight than that of the man, who, in a work which has unfortunately been lost, described and analyzed all the known forms of government of his time, two hundred and fifty-five in number. f Aristot. Polit. iii. I t Aristot. Polit. iv. 6. CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN CITIES. 165 means were sufficient, constituted the cavalry of the citizens ; and these formed the richer part of the soldiery, which consisted only of citizens or militia. It is therefore easy to understand, how it was possible that the circumstance, whether the district of a city possessed much pasture land, could have had so much influence, in practical politics, on the formation of the constitution.* It was therefore these nobles, the Eupatridse and Optimates, who, though they did not wholly exclude the people from a shape in the legisla- tion, endeavoured to secure to themselves the magis- tracies, and the seats in the courts of justice; and wherever this was the case, there was what the Greeks termed an aristocracy.f In cities, where wealth is for the most part meas- ured by possessions in lands, it is almost unavoidable that not only a class of great proprietors should rise up ; but that this inequality should constantly increase ; and landed estates come finally into the hands of a few families.! In an age, when there were much fewer mechanic professions, and when those few were carried on chiefly by slaves, the consequences of this inequality were much more oppressive ; and it was therefore one of the chief objects of the lawgivers, either to prevent this evil, or, where it already exist- ed, to remedy it ; as otherwise a revolution of the state would sooner or later have inevitably followed. * Aristotle cites examples of it in Eretria, Chalcis, and other cities. Polit. iv. 3. t Oligarchy was distinguished from this. But though bolh words were in use, no other line can be drawn between them, than the greater or smaller number of Optimates, who had the government in their hands. That this remark is a true one appears from the definitions, to which Aristotle, Polit. Hi. 7, is obliged to have recourse, in order to divide them from one another. $ This was the rase in Thurii, Aristot. Polit. v. 7 166 CHAPTER NINTH. In this manner we may understand why a new and equal division of the land among the citizens was made ;* why the acquisition of lands by purchase or gift was forbidden, and only permitted in the way of inheritance and of marriage :f why a limit was fixed to the amount of land, which a single citi- zen could possess.:}: But with all these and other similar precautions, it was not possible to hinder entirely the evil, against which they were intended to guard ; and hence were prepared the causes of those numerous and violent commotions, to which all the Grecian states were more or less exposed. In the constitutions of cities, however they may be formed, the right of citizenship is the first and most important. He who does not possess it, may perhaps live in the city under certain conditions, and enjoy the protection of its Iaws:$ but he is not, properly speaking, a member of the state : and can enjoy neither the same rights, nor the same respect, as the citizen. The regulations, therefore, respect- ing sharing in the right of citizenship, were necessa- rily strict ; but they were very different in the several Grecian cities. In some, the full privileges of citi- zenship were secured, if both the parents had been citizens ;|| in others, it was necessary to trace such a descent through two or three generations ;1f whilst in * As in Sparta, by the laws of Lycurgus. t As in Sparta, and also among the Locrians, Aristot. Polit. ii. 7. * Aristot. I. c. These fttretxoi intjuilini, were formed in almost all the Grecian cities. It was common lor them to pay for protection, and to tear other civil burdens. || As, for example, at Athens. ' X-. in Larissa, Aristot. Polit. iii. 2. So too in CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN CITIES. 167 others, no respect was had, except to the descent of the mother.* There were some cities which very rarely and with difficulty could be induced to confer the right of citizenship; whilst in others foreigners were admitted to it with readiness. In these cases, accidental circumstances not unfrequently decided ; and the same city was sometimes compelled to ex- change its early 'and severe principles, for milder ones, if the number of the ancient citizens came to be too small. f In colonies, the milder principles were of necessity followed ; since there might arrive from the mother country a whole company of new emi- grants, whom it would either be impossible or inex- pedient to reject. And hence we may explain what is so frequently observable in the colonies, that the wards of the citizens were divided according to their arrival from the different mother countries ; one of the most fruitful sources of internal commotions, and even of the most violent political revolutions.^ In free cities, the constitution and the administra- tion are always connected in an equally eminent degree with the division of the citizens. Birt here again we find a vast difference among the Greeks. \Ve first notice those states, which made a dis- tinction in the privileges of the inhabitants of the chief town, and of the villages and country. There were some Grecian states, where the inhabitants of the city enjoyed great privileges; and the rest of their countrymen stood in a subordinate relation to *Aristot. Polit iii. 5. t Thus at Athens, Clisthencs received a large number of foreigners into the class of citizens. t Examples of it at Sybaris, Thurium, Byzantium, and other places, are cited by Aristotle, Polit. v. 3. 168 CHAPTER NINTH. them ;* whilst in others there was no distinction of rights between the one and the other, f The other divisions of the citizens were settled partly by birth, according to the ward to which a man happened to belong :| partly from his place of residence, accord- ing to the district in which he resided ;$ and partly from property or the census, according to the class in which he was reckoned. Though not in all, yet in many states, the ward, and the place of residence, were attached to the name of each individual ; which was absolutely necessary in a nation, that had no family names, or where they at least were not gener- ally introduced. There is no need of mentioning how important was the difference in fortune ; as the proportion of the public burden to be borne by each one was decided according to his wealth ; and the kind of service to be required in war, whether in the cavalry or the infantry, and whether in heavy or light armour, was regulated by the same criterion ; as will ever be the case in countries, where there is no other armed force than the militia formed of the citizens. On these divisions of the citizens, the organization of their assemblies (UxX^/a*) was founded. These assemblies, which were a natural result of city gov- ernments, were, according to the views of the Greeks, so essential an institution, that they probably existed in every Grecian city, though not always under the same regulations. Yet the manner in which they were held in every city except Athens and Sparta, is almost wholly unknown to us. The nature of the * Hence in Laconia, the difference between Spartans and Lacedaemonians (i ? .'(.(). So also in Crete and in Argos. t As at Athens. J According to the $ vkai, (or wards.) According to the "Mftti, (or cantons) CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN STATES. 169 case required, that the manner in which they were to be held, should every where be established by rule. It was the custom to give to but one magistrate, the right of convoking and opening them.* But we do not know in what manner the votes were taken in the several cities, whether merely by polls, or by the wards and other divisions of the people. And in this too, there was a great difference, whether all citi- zens had the right of voting, or whether a certain census was first requisite.! In most of the cities, regular assemblies seem to have been held on fixed days, and extraordinary meetings also to have been held.J To attend was regarded as the duty of every citizen ; and as the better part were apt to remain away, especially in stormy times, absence was often made a punishable offence.^ It may easily be sup- posed, that the decisions were expressed in an estab- lished form, written down and preserved, and some- times engraved on tables. But although the forms were fixed, the subjects which might come before the assembly, were by no means so clearly defined. The principle which was acted upon, was, that subjects which were important for the community, were to be brought before it. But how uncertain is the very idea of what is, or is not important. How much too depends on the form which the constitution has taken at a certain period ; whether the power of the *In the heroic age, it was the privilege of the kings to convoke the as- sembly. See above, in the fourth chapter. t That a great variety prevailed in this respect, is clear from Aristot. Polit. iv. 13. | 'I'lil- was the case in Athens and Sparta. This is the case, says Aristotle, Polit. iv. 13, in the oligarchic, or aristo- cratical cities; while on the contrary, in the democratic, the poorwere well paid for appearing in the assemblies. 22 170 CHAPTER NINTH. senate, or of certain magistrates preponderates. We find even in the history of Rome, that questions of the utmost interest to the people, questions of war and peace, were sometimes submitted to the people, and sometimes not. No less considerable difference prevailed in the Grecian cities. Yet writers are accustomed to comprehend the subjects belonging to the common assemblies in three grand classes.* The first embraces legislation ; for what the Greeks called a law (xo'^oj)? was always a decree passed, or confirmed by the commons ; although it is difficult, we should rather say impossible, to define with accuracy the extent of this legislation. The second embraces the choice of magistrates. This right, although not all magistrates were appointed by election, was regarded, and justly regarded as one of the most important privileges. For the power of the commons is preserved by nothing more effectually, than by making it necessary for those who would obtain a place, to apply for it to them. The third class was formed by the popular courts of justice, which, as we shall hereafter take occasion to show. were of the highest importance as a support of the democracy. The consequences which the discussion and the decision of the most important concerns in the assem- blies of the whole commons must inevitably have had, are so naturally suggested, that they hardly need to be illustrated at large. How could it have escaped those lawgivers, that to entrust this unlimited power to the commons, was not much less than to pave the way for the rule of the populace, if we include under that name the mass of indigent citizens. * The chief passage on this subject is in Aristot. Polit. iv. 14, CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN STATES. 171 The most natural means of guarding against this evil, would without doubt have been the choice of persons, possessed of plenary powers, to represent the citizens. But it is obvious, that the system of representation has the least opportunity of coming to perfection in city governments. It is the fruit of the enlarged extent of states ; where it is impossible for all to meet in the assemblies. But in cities with a narrow territory, what could lead to such a form ; since neither distance nor numbers made it difficult for the citizens to appear personally in the assemblies. It is true, that the alliances of several cities, as of the Boeotian or the Achaean, led to the idea of sending deputies to the assemblies ; but in those meetings, the internal affairs of the confederates were never discussed ; they were reserved for the consideration of each city ; and the deliberations of the whole body, related only to general affairs with respect to foreign relations. But a true system of representation can never be formed in that manner ; the true sphere of action of a legis- lative body, is to be found in the internal affairs of the nation. It was therefore necessary to think of other means of meeting the danger apprehended from the rule of the populace ; and those means were various. Aris- totle expressly remarks,* that there were cities, in which no general assemblies of the citizens were held ; and only such citizens appeared, as had been expressly convoked or invited. These obviously formed a class of aristocratic governments. But even in the demo- *Aristot. Polit. Hi. 1. A similar regulation existed in several German imperial towns ; as, for example, in Bremen, where the most distinguished citizens were invited by the senate to attend the convention of citizens ; and of course no uninvited person made his appearance. It is to be regret- ted, that Aristotle has cited no Grecian city as an example. 172 CHAPTER NINTH. cracies, means* were taken, partly to have the impor- tant business transacted in smaller divisions, before the commons came to vote upon it ; partly to limit the subjects, which were to be brought before them ; part- ly to reserve the revision, if not of all, yet of some of the decrees, to another peculiar board ; and partly, and most frequently, to name another deliberate as- sembly, whose duty it was to consider every thing which was to come before the commons, and so far to prepare the business, that nothing remained for the commons, but to accept or reject the measures pro- posed. This assembly was called by the Greeks, a council (/3etA>j). We are acquainted with its internal regu- lations only at Athens ; but there is no reason to doubt, that in several Grecian states, a similar assem- bly existed under the same name.f If we may draw inferences respecting its nature in other states from what it was at Athens, it consisted of a numerous committee of the citizens annually chosen ; its mem- bers, taken after a fixed rule from each of the corpo- rations, were chosen by lot ; but they could not be- come actual members without a previous examination. For in no case was it of so much importance as here, to effect the exclusion of all but honest men ; who. being themselves interested in the preservation of the state and its constitution, might decide on the busi- ness presented to them, with prudence and modera- tion. In Athens at least, the greatest pains were * See in proof what follows, Aristot. Polit. iv. 14. Op. ii. p. 286. t As at Argos and Mantinea. Thucyd. v. 47. So too in Chios. Thucyd viii. i4. CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN STATES. 173 taken with the internal organization of this body ; so that it seems to us, as will appear from the investi- gations respecting this state, to have been almost too artificial. Regulations, similar in kind, though not exactly the same, were probably established in the other cities, where similar wants and circumstances prevailed. It is easy to perceive, that the preser- vation of the internal liberties of such a body against the encroachments of parties and too powerful indi- viduals, made such regulations essential. It was probably to promote this end, that the appointments to the council were made only for the year.* It prevented the committee from becoming a faction, and thus assuming the whole administration of the state. But beside this, another great advantage was gained ; for in this manner, by far the larger number of dis- tinguished and upright citizens became acquainted with the affairs and the government of the state. In other cities, instead of this annual council, there was a senate (ygoyxi and yipvf'm, and these words may often have been confounded. For although the favXn in Athens was a body chosen from the citizens but for a year, and the yipvf'i* of Sparta was a permanent coun- cil, we cannot safely infer, that the terms, when used, always implied such a difference. In Crete, e. g. the council of elders was called fu\ii, according to Aristot. Polit. ii. 10. though in its organization it resembled the yt^tveim, of Sparta. Thucyd. viii. i. || See, on this subject, Aristot. Polit. iv. 15. The practical politicians, no lessthan the theorists, were perplexed in defining the word. An important passage may be found in ^Eschin. in Ctesiphont. iii. p. 397 etc, Reisk. CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN STATES. 175 the word the double idea of possessing a part of the executive power ; and of gaining, in consequence of the importance of the business entrusted to them, a higher degree of consideration, than belonged to the common citizen. In the republican constitutions of the Greeks a second idea was attached to that of a magistracy ; it was necessary to call every magistrate to account respecting the affairs of his office.* He who went beyond this rule, ceased to be a magistrate and be- came a tyrant. The magistrate was therefore com- pelled to recognise the sovereignty of the people. This certainly implied, that an account was to be given to the commons ; but as in such constitutions not every thing was systematically established, there were some states, in which separate boards, as that of the Ephori in Sparta, usurped the right of calling the magistrates to account. f In the inquiry respecting magistrates, says Aris- totle, J several questions are to be considered ; How many magistrates there are, and how great is their authority ? How long they continue in office, and whether they ought to continue long? Farther, Who ought to be appointed ? and by whom? arid how? These are questions, which of themselves show, that republican states are had in view ; and which lead us to anticipate that great variety, which prevailed on these points in the Grecian constitutions. We desire to treat first of the last questions. According to the whole spirit of the Grecian con- stitutions, it cannot be doubted, that their leading *They were of necessity uftv^wm. Aristot. Polit. ii. 12. t There were magistrates appointed on purpose, called tvtutiny!fri. Aris- tot. Polit. vi. 8. J Aristot. Polit. iv. 15. 176 CHAPTER NINTH. principle was, that all magistrates must be appointed by the people. The right of choosing the magistrates, was always regarded, and justly regarded, as an im- portant part of the freedom of a citizen.* But although this principle was predominant, it still had its exceptions. There were states, in which the first offices were hereditary in certain families.! But as we have already taken occasion to observe, this was a rare case ; and where one magistracy was hereditary all the rest were elective ; at Sparta, though the royal dignity was hereditary, the Ephori were chosen. But beside the appointment by election, the custom very commonly prevailed of appointing by lot. And our astonishment is very justly excited by this meth- od, which not unfrequently commits to chance, the appointment to the first and most weighty employ- ments in the state. But even in several of the Ger- man imperial towns, the lot had an important share in the appointment to offices. It is uninfluenced by favour, birth, and wealth. And therefore the nomi- nation of magistrates by lot, was considered by the Grecian politicians, as the surest characteristic of a democracy.! But where the appointment was left to be decided by that method, the decision was not always made solely by it. He on whom the lot fell, could still be subjected to a severe examination, and very frequently was so. And where some places were filled in this way, it was by no means pursued in the appointment to all. * Aristot. Polit. ii. 12. MSt ya,^ reureu, wrtuttns. Aristol. Polit. iv. 10. See above P- 161. t Aristot. Polit. iii. 14. J Aristot. Polit. v. 12. CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN STATES. 183 And by what criterion shall the historian, who investigates the history of humanity, form his judg- ment of the worth of these constitutions. By that, which a modern school, placing the object of the state in the security of person and of property, desires to see adopted. We may observe in Greece exertions made to gain that security ; but it is equally clear, that it was but very imperfectly attained, and with such constitutions could have been but imperfectly attain- ed In the midst of the frequent storms, to which those states were exposed, that tranquillity could not long be preserved, in which men limit their active powers to the improvement of their domestic condition. It does not belong to us to institute inquiries into the correctness of those principles ; but experience does not admit of its being denied, that in these, to all appearances, so imperfect constitutions, every thing, which forms the glory of man, flourished in its highest perfection. It was those very storms, which called forth master spirits, by opening to them a sphere of action. There was no place here for indolence and inactivity of mind ; where each individual felt most sensibly, that he existed only through the state and with the state ; where every revolution of the state in some measure inevitably affected him ; and the security of person and property was necessarily much less firmly established, than in well regulated mon- archies. We leave to every one to form his own judgment, and select his own criterion; but we will draw from the whole one general inference, that the forms under which the character of the human race can be unfolded, have not been so limited by the hand of the Eternal, as the wisdom of the schools would lead us to believe. 184 CHAPTER NINTH. But whatever may be thought of the value of these constitutions, the reflection is forced upon us, that they surpassed all others in internal variety ; and therefore in no other nation could so great an abundance of political ideas have been awakened. and preserved in practical circulation. Of the hun- dreds of Grecian cities, perhaps there were no two, of which the constitutions were perfectly alike ; and none, of which the internal relations had not changed their form. How much had been tried in each one of them, and how often had the experiments been repeated ! And did not each of these experiments enrich the science of politics with new results? Where then could there have been so much political an- imation, so large an amount of practical knowledge, as among the Greeks ? If uniformity is, in the political world, as in the regions of taste and letters, the parent of narrowness, and if variety, on the contrary, pro- motes cultivation, no nation ever moved in better paths than the Greeks. Although some cities became preeminent, no single city engrossed every thing ; the splendor of Athens could as little eclipse Corinth and Sparta, as Miletus and Syracuse. Each city had a life of its own, its own manner of existence and action ; and it was because each one had a conscious- ness of its own value, that each came to possess an independent worth. POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 185 CHAPTER TENTH. THE POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. THE increasing wants of modern states have not only employed practical statesmen, but have led to the formation of many theories, of which the truth and utility are still subjects of discussion. Among the ancients, the finances of the nation were not regarded from so high a point of view, and therefore could not have been, in the same degree, an object of specula- tion. Whether the world has lost by this, or not, is a question which we prefer to leave unanswered. If the ancients knew less of the importance of the division of labour, they were also less acquainted with the doctrine of the modern schools, which trans- forms nations into productive herds. The Greeks were aware, that men must have productive arts, if they would live ; but that it is the end of life to be employed in them, never entered their minds. But the modern should not look with absolute contempt on the state of political science among the ancients. The chief question now agitated be- tween theorists and practical statesmen, whether the mere gain in money decides on the wealth of a nation, and should form the object of its industry, was correctly understood and answered by the illus- trious Stagirite. " Many," says he,* (i suppose wealth to consist in the abundance of coined money, *Aristot. Polit. i 9. 24 186 CHAPTER TENTH. because it is the object of usury and commerce. Money is of itself without value, and gains its utility only by the law ; when it ceases to be current, it loses its value,* and cannot be employed in the acquisi- tion of necessaries ; and therefore he who is rich in money, may yet be destitute of a necessary support. But it is ridiculous to say, that wealth consists in any thing, of which a man may be possessed, and yet die of hunger ; as the fable relates of Midas, at whose touch every thing became gold."f In a nation, in which private existence was subor- dinate to that of the public, the industry employed in the increase of wealth, could not gain the exclusive importance, which it has with the moderns. With the ancients, the citizen was first anxious for the state, and only next for himself. As long as there is any higher object than the acquisition of money, the love of self cannot manifest itself so fully, as where every higher object is wanting. While religion in modern Europe primarily engaged the attention of states, as of individuals, the science of finances could not be fully developed, although the want of money was often very sensibly felt. Men learned to tread under foot the most glorious productions of mind, to trample upon the monuments of moral and intellectual great- ness, before they received those theories, which assigu to the great instructers of mankind in philosophy and "'OrtTi ft.irttfife.iyur rvixgup.it/utcvtiwia.Zitr, xc< %gr,fifiar trgo; eufit i. t Phaneas of Chalcedon. Aristot. Polit. ii. 7. } Aristot. Polit. I.e. Aristot. Polit. iii. 4. || Ari.tot. I. c, 190 CHAPTER TENTH. enjoy among modern nations.* Even in Athens, says Xenophon,f much would be gained by treating more respectfully and more hospitably the foreign merchants, brought by their business to that city. The income derived from landed estate, was most esteemed by the Greeks. " The best nation/*' says Aristotle, J " is a nation of farmers." From the little esteem in which the other means of gaining a livelihood were held, it followed that a wealthy middling class could not be formed in the Grecian states ; and this is censured by those who have criticised their constitutions, as the chief cause of their unsettled condition. But this censure rests, for the most part, on an erroneous representation. It was degrading for a Grecian to carry on any of those kinds of employment with his own hands ; but it by no means lessened his consideration to have them conducted on his account. Work-shops and manu- factures, as well as mines and lands, could be possess- ed by the first men in the country. The father of Demosthenes, a rich and respectable man, left at his death a manufactory of swords ; which was kept up by his son ;$ and examples could be easily multiplied, from the orators and the comedian. When this cir- cumstance is kept in view, the blame attached to the Grecian constitutions is, in a great measure, though not entirely removed. The impediments which public opinion put in the way of industry, did not so much injure those concerned in any large enterprise, as * Compare on this subject, first of all, Aristot. Polit. 1. 11, where he ana- lyzes and treats of the several branches of industry. tXen. de Redit. Op. p. 922. Leunclav. J Aristot. Polit. vi. 4. Deraosth. adv. Aphob. Op. ii. p. 816. POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 191 those engaged in the smaller occupations. The latter did really feel the evil, and we are not disposed to represent it as inconsiderable. But we must return once more to the remark which explains the true cause of this regulation ; that in the Grecian states, public life was placed above private life. u All agree," says Aristotle,* " that in every well regulated state, sufficient leisure must be preserved from the wants of life for the public busi- ness; but a difference of opinion exists as to the man- ner in which this can be done. It is effected by means of slaves ; who are not, however, treated in all places alike." Here we have the point of view, from which the politician should consider slavery in Greece. It served to raise the class of citizens to a sort of nobility, especially where they consisted almost en- tirely of landed proprietors. It is true, that this class lived by the labours of the other; and every thing, which in modern times has been said respecting and against slavery, may therefore so far be applied to the Grecians. But their fame does not rest on the circumstance of their obtaining that leisure at the expense of the lower order ; but in the application, which the noblest of them made of that leisure. No one will deny, that without their slaves, the character of the culture of the upper class in Greece could in no respects have become what it did ; and if the fruits which were borne, possess a value for every cultivated mind, we may at least be permitted to doubt, whether they were too dearly purchased by the introduction of slavery.f * Aristotle ii. 9. t This may be the more safely asserted, because it is hardly possible to say any thing in general on the condition of slaves io Greece ; so different 192 CHAPTER TENTH. The free exertions of industry were in some meas- ure limited by the regulations of which we have spoken ; but in a very different manner from any usual in our times. They were the result of public opinion ; and if they were confirmed by the laws, this was done in conformity to that opinion. In other respects, the interference of government in the matter was incon- siderable. It was not considered as an object, to preserve the mass of species undiminished, or to increase it; nothing was known of the balance of trade ; and consequently all the violent measures resulting from it, were never devised by the Greeks. They had duties, as well as the moderns ; but those duties were exacted only for the sake of increasing the public revenue, not to direct the efforts of domestic industry, by the prohibition of certain wares. There was no prohibition of the exportation of the raw produce ; no encouragement of manufactures at the expense of the agriculturalists. In this respect, therefore, there existed freedom of occupations, com- merce, and trade. And such was the general custom. As every thing was decided by circumstances and not by theories, there may have been single exceptions, and perhaps single examples,* where the state for a season usurped a monopoly. But how far was this from the mercantile and restrictive system of the moderns ! The reciprocal influence between national econo- my, and that of the state, is so great and so natural, was it at different times ; in different countries ; and even in the same coun- try. On this sulject I would refer to the following instructive work ; Ges- chichte und Zustand der Sclaverey und Leibeigenschaft iu Griechenland, von J. F. Reitemeyer. Berlin, 1789. History and Condition of Slavery and Villanage in Greece, by J. F. Reitemeyer. * Aristot. de Re Farail. 1. ii- POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 193 that it was necessary to premise a few observations respecting the former. Before we treat of the latter, it will be useful to say a few words on a subject, which is equally important to both ; the money of the Greeks. National economy can exist without money, but finances cannot. It would be important to fix the time, when coined money first became current in Greece, and when money was first coined in the country itself. But it is difficult to give an exact answer to either of these questions, especially to the first. Homer never speaks of money ; and his silence is in this case valid as evidence ; for in more than one passage where he speaks of a barter,* he must necessarily have mentioned it, if he had been acquaint- ed with it. On the other hand, we may confidently affirm on the authority of Demosthenes, that in the age of Solon,f coined silver money was not only known in the cities of Greece, but had been in circulation for a length of time ;$ for the punishment of death had already been set upon the crime of counterfeiting it; Solon mentioned it as in general use throughout * As for example, II. vi. 472. Od. i. 430. t About 600 years before the Christian era. j." I will relate to you," says the orator, while opposing a bill brought in by Timocrates, " what Solon once said against a man who proposed a bad law. The cities, said he to the judges, have a law, that he who coun- terfeits money, shall be put to death. He thought this law was made for the protection of private persons, and their private intercourse ; but the laws he esteemed the coin of the state. They, therefore, who corrupt the laws, must be much more heavily punished, than they who adulterate the coinage or introduce false money. Yea, many cities exist and flourish, al- though they use brass and lead instead of silver money ; but those which have bad laws, will certainly be ruined." Demosth. in Timocrat. Op. i. p. 763, 764. Compare with this what Herod, iii. 56, says of the counterfeit money, with which Polycrates is said to have cheated the Spartans. 25 194 CHAPTER TENTH. the Grecian cities ; and many of them had already supplied its place with the baser metals. The Gre- cian coins, which are still extant, can afford us no accurate dates, as the time of their coinage is not marked upon them ; but several of them are certainly as ancient as the age of Solon ; and perhaps are even older. The coins of Sybaris, for example, must be at least of the sixth century before the Christian era ; as that city was totally destroyed in the year510 B. C. The most ancient coins of Rhegium, Croton, and Syracuse, seem from the letters in the superscriptions to be of far higher antiquity.* If the account that Lycurgus prohibited in Sparta, the use of money of the precious metals, is well supported,! we should be able to trace the history of Grecian coins to a still more remote age ; and this opinion is corroborated at least by the narration of the Parian chronicle,^ that Phidon of Argos in the year 631 (i. e. 895 years B. C.) first began to coin silver in the island of ^Egina. But although we cannot at present trace the his- tory of coined money in Greece any farther, we may from the preceding observations infer one general conclusion ; the founding of colonies and the inter- course kept up with them, caused coined money to be in- troduced and extensively used in Greece. Before their *Ekhel. Doctrina Numorum Veterum, i. p. 170177. 242. t Plutarch, in Lycurg. Op. i. p. 177. His code is computed to have been given about 880 years B. C. i Manner Parium. Ep. xxxi. cf. Strabo viii. p. 247. This was about 15 years before the legislation of Lycurgus. It might, therefore, not without probability be supposed, that Lycurgus wished and was able to prohibit mon- ey of the precious metals, because it at that time was just beginning to circu- late in Greece. Compare Wachteri Archaeologia Nutnmaria, Lips. 1740; and the intro- ductory inquiries in Ekhel. D. H. V. POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 195 foundation, the Greeks knew nothing of coined money. When money was first coined in ./Egina, the colonies of Asia Minor and of Magna Graecia* were already established and flourishing ; and we are expressly informed, that money was coined in that island, in order to carry on commerce beyond the sea.f It can- not be proved with certainty, that money was coined in the Asiatic colonies sooner than in the mother country. But when we call to mind the well known relation of Herodotus,:}: that the Lydians were the inventors of money coined of gold and silver (a thing in itself not improbable, as it is known that Lydia abounded in gold, and that the most flourishing Grecian colonies were situated on the Lydian coasts) we cannot but find it highly probable, that the Greeks received their stamps for coining, like so many other inventions, from Asia ; and here too, the remark is valid, that in their hands every thing received a new form and a new beauty. For no nation has ever yet had coins, of which the stamp equalled in beauty those of the Grecian, and especially of the Sicilian cities. The right of minting gold was regarded in Greece as the privilege of the state, which superintended it. Hence arose that variety and multitude of city coins, which are easily distinguished by their peculiar stamp. Coins were also struck by several of the tribes, the Thessalians, the Boeotians, and others, as they form- ed by their alliances one political body. * As e. g. Cutnae. t Strabo viii. p. 259. He refers to Epborus. J Herod, i. 94. Nor is there any other nation, which disputes this honour with the Ly- dians. For the Egyptians e. g. are named without any reason. See Wach- ter, 1. c. cap. iv. 196 CHAPTER TENTH. Though the Grecian coins were of both precious and base metals, they were originally struck of precious metal only, and probably at first of nothing but silver. So few of the gold coins have been preserved, that we cannot certainly say, whether they are altogether as ancient ; but those of base metal are certainly of a later period. That even before the time of Solon, silver money had in many cities a large proportion of alloy, appears from the passage which we cited from Demosthenes.* In Hellas itself, we know of no silver mines except those of Laurium, which were very ancient ;f but the gold mines of Thrace and the neighbouring island Thasos were quite as ancient, for they were wrought by the Phoenicians. Yet the Greeks received most of their gold from Lydia. And still there was not species enough in circulation, es- pecially in the commercial towns ; and although the Greeks knew nothing of paper money, several cities made use of the same resource, which had been intro- duced at Carthage,J the use of nominal coins, which possessed a current value, not corresponding to their intrinsic one. Such was the iron money (if my view is a just one) which was adopted in Byzantium, Clazomene,|| and perhaps in some other cities.H * Yet the ancient gold coins which we still possess, have almost no alloy, and the silver ones very little. t So old, that it was impossible to fix their age. Xenoph. de Redif. Op. p. 924. t Heeren's Ideeu ii. S. 164. Pollux ix. 78. || Aristot. (Econ. ii. Op. ii. p. 383. A decisive passage. H Most of the cities, says Xenophon, Op. p. 922, have money, which is not current except in their own territory; hence merchants are obliged to barter their own wares for other wares. Athens makes a solitary excep- tion. It was therefore quite common for cities to have two kinds of money coins of nominal value, current only in the city -which struck them ; and metallic money, of which the value depended on its intrinsic worth, and which circulated in other places. Hence Plato de Legg. v.p. 742, permits this in his state. POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 197 It is certain, therefore, that the Greeks had money which was current only in the state, and out of it was of no value ; as we learn also from a passage in Pla- to.* It is much to be regretted, that we do not know by what means its value was kept from falling. The inquiry into the economy of a nation, intricate as it may be, can be reduced to the following points ; What were the wants of the state ? What means were adopted to supply them? How were those means brought together ? How administered ? The inquiry respecting the economy of the Grecian states will be conducted with reference to these questions. The small republics of that people appear at the first view, according to the modern criterion, to have hardly had any wants, which could make a financial system necessary ; and in fact there were some states, as Sparta during a long period, without any finances. The magistrates were rewarded with honour, not with a salary. The soldiers were citizens and not hire- lings ; and many of those public institutions, which are now supported by the governments for the most various purposes, and in part at very great expense, were then entirely unknown, because they were not felt to be necessary. Nevertheless we find the contrary to have been true. The burdens which the citizens of those re- publics had to support, continued gradually to in- crease ; and in the later period of Grecian liberty, became so great, that we cannot but esteem them op- pressive. States can create wants, no less than indi- * Plato I.e. The current silver money consisted in drachmas, and pie- ces of money were struck of as much as four drachmas. Kkhcl i. p. Ixxxv. thinks it probable, that the other cities followed the Attic standard. 198 CHAPTEIl TENTH. viduals. Even in Greece, experience shows that necessities are multiplied with the increase of power and splendor. But when we call them oppressive, we must not forget, that the heaviness of the contributions paid to the state, is not to be estimated by their absolute amount; nor yet by the proportion alone, which that amount bears to the income. In our present investigations, it is more important to bear in mind, what our modern economists have entirely overlooked, that in republican states (or at least more especially in them) there exists beside the criterion of money, a moral criterion, by which a judgment on the greater or less degree of oppression is to be form- ed. Where the citizen exists only with and for the state ; where the preservation of the commonwealth is every thing to the individual ; many a tax is easily paid, which under other circumstances would have been highly oppressive. But in the theories of our mod- ern political artists, there is no chapter, which treats of the important influence of patriotism and public spirit on the financial system ; probably because the statistical tables do not make mention of them as sources of produce. The wants of states are partly established by their nature ; hut still more by opinion. That is a real want, which is believed to be such. The explanation of the management of the affairs of any nation would necessarily be very imperfect, if we should pay no regard to the ideas, which it entertained respecting its necessities. On this point the Greeks had very diffe- rent notions from ours. Many things seemed essen- tial to them, which do not appear so to us ; many POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 199 things are needed by us, of which they did not feel the necessity. The first object with the Greek was the honour and splendor of his city. In that world of small republics, each wished to make itself remarkable ; each to be distinguished for something. Now there were two things, which in the eyes of the Greeks, rendered a city illustrious ; its public monuments and its festivals. These objects were therefore politically necessary, in a different sense from that in which they can be called so in modern states. Among these the first place belongs to the temples. No Grecian city was without gods, of whom it honoured some as its guar- dian deities. How could these gods be left without dwelling-places ? The art of sculpture was very nat- urally exerted in connexion with that of architecture ; for the statues of the gods did not merely adorn the temples, but were indispensably necessary as objects of adoration. The same may be said of the festivals. Life without holidays would have ceased to be life to a Greek. But these holidays were not passed exclu- sively in prayers, or at banquets. Processions, music, and public shows, were an essential part of them. These were not merely the diversions of the people during the festival, they constituted the festival itself. All this was intimately connected with religion. The Greeks had almost no public festivals except religious ones. They were celebrated in honour of some God, some hero ; above all in honour of the pa- tron deities of the place.* By this means, many things * Meursii Graecia Feriata, in Gronov. Thes. Ant Graec. vol. vii. is one of the richest compilations on the subject of the Grecian festivals. 200 CHAPTER TENTH. which we are accustomed to regard as objects of amusement, received a much more elevated character. They became duties enjoined by religion ; which could not be neglected without injury to the honour and reputation, and even to the welfare of the city. The gods would have been incensed ; and the acci- dental evils, which might have fallen on the city? would infallibly have been regarded as punishments inflicted by the gods. We need not therefore be astonished, when we hear that a city could be very seriously embarrassed for want of sufficient means to celebrate its festivals with due solemnity.* Thus a field, an almost immeasurable field was opened for public expenses of a kind, hardly known to modern states. Even in cases where the govern- ments believe it necessary to expend something on public festivals, little is done except in the capital : and this expenditure has never, to our knowledge, made an article in a budget. It would have made the very first in Grecian cities, at least in times of peace. And he who can vividly represent those states to his mind, will easily perceive how many things must have combined to increase these expenditures. They were prompted not by a mere regard for the honour of the state ; jealousy and envy of the other cities were of influence also. And still more is to be at- tributed to the emulation and the vanity of those, who were appointed to the charge of the expenditures. One desired to surpass another. This was the most reputable manner of displaying wealth. And although, as far as we know, public shows were not, in the Gre- cian cities, so indispensably the means of gaining the * Consult what Aristotle relates of Antiss sus, Op. ii. p. 390. POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 201 favour of the people as at Rome, (probably because what in Rome was originally voluntary, had ever been considered in Greece as one of the duties and burdens of a citizen, which did not merit even thanks,) polit- cal ends may have often been of influence with indi- viduals. The Grecian temples had, for the most part, pos- sessions of their own, with which they met the expen- ses incurred in the service of the god. Their pos- sessions consisted partly in votive presents, which had been consecrated, especially where the divinities of health and prophecy were adored, by the hopes or the gratitude of the suppliants for aid and counsel. We know from several examples, especially from that of the Delphic temple, that treasures were there ac- cumulated, of more value probably than those of Loretto, or any other shrine in Europe.* But as they were sacred to the gods, and did not come into circulation, they were, for the most part, but unpro- ductive treasures, possessing no other value than what they received from the artist. We could desire more accurate information respecting the administration of the treasures of the temples ; for it seems hardly credible, that the great stores of gold and silver, which were not wrought, should have been left entire- ly unemployed. But besides these treasures, the temples drew a large part of their revenue from lands ;f which were not unfrequently consecrated to * The consequences with which the profanation of the Delphjc treasures in the Sacred war, was fraught for Greece, may be learned from Athen. vi. p. 231, etc. t Not only single fields, but whole districts were consecrated to the gods. Beside the fields of Cirrha, it was desired to consecrate the whole of Phocis to Apollo of Delphi. Diod. xvi. p. 245. Brasidas devoted to Pallas the ter- 26 202 CHAPTER TENTH. their service. When a new colonial city was built, it was usual to devote at once a part of its territory to the Gods.* But although these resources were suffi- cient for the support of the temple, the priests, the various persons employed in the service of the tem- ples, and perhaps the daily sacrifices, yet the incense and other expenses, the celebration of the festivals with all the costs connected with it, still continued a burden to be borne by the public. Beside the expenses which were required by religion and the honour of the city, there were others which the administration made necessary. The magistrates, in the proper sense of the word, were without salaries ; but the state needed many inferior servants for the taxes, the police, etc. ; and these must certainly have been paid.f Add to this that several of the duties of citizens were of such a nature that it subsequently became necessary to pay for the performance of them, though it had not been done at an earlier period. To this class belongs the duty of attending in the courts ; and the investigation of the ritory of Lecythus, which he had conquered. Thucyd. iv. cap. 116. It is a mistake to believe that the consecrated land must have remained uncultivat- ed. That of Cirrha remained so, because a curse rested on it. Pausan. p. 894. In other cases it was used sometimes for pasture land, especially for the sacred herds ; Thucyd. v. 63 ; sometimes it was tilled ; Thucyd. iii. 68 ; but for the most part let for a rent. Whoever did not pay the rent, pirtufti; et(tt\iKn and 'n far^u-nx*. When the Greeks spoke of an empire, they always had in mind the empire of Persia. | Tg/Tflv $, TV TsX/T/fcflv. Ti/rf Si xgetTifrv /t*lv trgofoba;, ft ixo TV Hint t Trt %&!> yiyoftitun, i7r tftirogiia* *i J/ iyutuv, ttrct vi iiro rut lyx.ux.l.iuv. It is known from the orators, that these last are the burdens borne in turn by the rich, ^urau^yiai. Demostb. in Leptin. Op. i. p. 463. If the words S/iy are correct, the public games and assemblies are intended, with which fairs were commonly connected ; otherwise it would be natural to conjecture Ayt^uv instead of yyv. The sense remains the same. 206 CHAPTER TENTH. the one and the other? They certainly were ac- quainted with both. " In Menda," says Aristotle, " the common expenses of the administration are paid from the revenue derived from the harbours and duties ; the taxes, on the contrary, on land and houses are regularly assessed : but they are collected from those who are bound to pay them, only in times of a great want of money."* This example shows very clearly, that the Greeks knew the practical differ- ence between direct and indirect taxes ; but it still remains doubtful, whether the tax on the soil was a land tax in the modern sense, according to its square contents and quality ; or whether it was a tax on the raw produce. The first is not probable. We hear nothing of a register of landed estates in Greece ; though there existed such an one in the great empire of Persia.f Where the taxes are treated of, the ex- pressions appear rather to indicate, that 'a proportion of the produce was paid. It was commonly tithes, which were taken of fruits and of cattle ; as Aristotle expressly mentions in the passages first cited.f In what degree these taxes were usual in the Grecian cities, is no where expressly related ; nor do we know whether they were levied on certain estates, or on all lands. That they were very common, is hardly doubtful, since the remark of Aristotle is a general one. Poll taxes were less frequently levied on the citizens (though we would not assert, that they did not in any degree exist with respect to them), than on * Aristot. de Re Famil. Op. ii. 393. Menda was a Grecian city on (he coast of Macedonia, not far from Potidsa. f Heeren's Ideen, B. ii. S. 673. I Compare De Re Famil. ii. 1. POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 207 the inquilini or resident foreigners. These formed in most of the Grecian cities a numerous class of inhabitants, and were obliged to pay for protection, a sum* which was sometimes a poll tax, and sometimes an impost on property. We know with certainty, that such sums were paid by the foreigners at Athens. However much the practical politician may be excited by increasing wants, to exert his inventive powers, the character of the state settles in a certain measure the kinds of taxes. Where a community imposes its own taxes, the direct taxes, and among them those on property, will have the first rank. That each citizen, or rather, that the richer citizens (for the rule does not of course apply to the poorer classes) should share in the public burdens in proportion to their means, is so naturul an idea, that it cannot but occur of itself. But when we consider the taxes on proper- ty as forming the chief division, we must premise two observations in connexion with that remark. First : The taxes on property were not so regular, that they were paid from year to year according to the same fixed measure. The necessary sums were rather voted, as circumstances required ; which also decided the degree of rigour, with which they were collected. Of this we have proof in very many examples in Demosthenes and others, f In times of peace, whole years might pass away, in which no such taxes were required to be paid ; while in others they *T fttvaixiov. The regulations respecting this, and its amount, may be found in Harpocration, h. v. t They were called in Athens the '.lay/a/).t To this class belonged partly the charge of the public festivals and shows, banquets and bands of music connected with them ; and partly, at least in Athens, and probably in other maritime towns, the fitting out of the gallies. The first class of these expenses, was by its nature a permanent one; and the other was almost, though not perfectly so. They were borne by the citizens in rotation ; and those who were free one year, were obliged to defray them the next. But they, especially the first, were the more oppressive, as they were not fixed at any certain amount; but depended not merely on the wants of the state, but the pride of him who supplied them. Taxes on property are attended with one great difficulty, that they cannot be apportioned out without a knowledge of the fortunes of each contributor. But they depend also more than any other on correctness of moral sentiment and on public spirit. Where these exist, (and they can no where more prevail, than in such civil communities as the Grecian states,) there is no need of returns on the part of those who *Isocrat. de Pace. Op. p. 185. t la the broadest seuse ; in so far as the word comprehends not only the fitting out of the ships (*{<{*{#<), but also the charge of the chorus (%t- yiou), and the gymnastic games POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 209 are to be taxed, nor of any inquisition on the part of the state. Confidence is reposed in the conscience of the contributor ; and examples may be found in history, of states in which even a suspicion of any insincerity was almost unheard of.* In the Grecian cities, at least in Athens, very severe measures were in the later periods made use of against those, who were suspected of concealing the true state of their fortunes, or whom it was desired to vex in that man- ner. They could be compelled to exchange their property for the sum at which they had estimated it.f But in better times, such measures, though perhaps permitted, seem never to have been usual. A division was made into classes according to the income; such as had been established in Athens, by the regulations of Solon. These classes presupposed an estimate of property ;$ but whether this was made in the Grecian cities as accurately as the census of the Romans, is a question which we must leave un- decided. $ The indirect taxes, by which we mean the duties paid on the importation and exportation of articles, * As in several of the late German imperial towns. The author is acquainted with one, in which the contributions were thrown into a box, unexamined ; and yet the amount of the whole was previously known, with almost perfect exactness. t The itvntairiis. See, on this subject, the speech of Isocrates,Op. p. 312, etc. t riftrtftx, Demosth. in Aphob. Orat. i. Op. ii. p. 3, etc. In some of the cities, great accuracy seems to have prevailed in this business. Thus in Chios, all private debts were entered in a public book, so that it might be known, what capital was lent out. Aristot. Op. ii. p. 390. In the Athenian colony Potidaea, in a time of war, when money was wanting, every citizen was obliged to specify his property with exactness, and the con tributions (itf//*>* xa.oTtvtta.t. to collect the customs in the harbours. Demosthen. i. 15. t AristOt. l.C. -rat ilffa-yuyifia. xai -TO. l^tt.'yu'yifta. | Demosth. 1. c. They were commonly rented out in that country for twenty talents; which sura Callistratus knew how to double. Aristot. Op. ii. p. 393. POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 211 customs, instead of the tribute which had before been usual.* The same was done with the very produc- tive customs of Byzantium, which all the commerce to the Black sea was obliged to discharge,-)- just as the commerce to the East sea has hitherto been oblig- ed to pay a tribute in the Sound. This comparison is the more just, as the duties of Byzantium, no less than those in the Sound, have been the occasion even of a war.J These examples, of which the number could easily be increased, are quite sufficient to prove, that duties were very generally exacted in the seaports. The prin- ciple, according to which the customs were regulated, had nothing in view but the increase of the public revenue ; and no design was connected with them, of gaining influence on the encouragement and direction of domestic industry. At least we have never been able to find any hint to that effect. But the tariff seems to have been very different in the several cities, and for the different articles of merchandise. At Byzantium, the duty was ten per cent, on the value of the wares. $ The Athenians, on the contrary, when they imposed duties in the harbours of their allies during the Peloponnesian war, exacted only five per cent. || In Athens itself, there were, at least in the time of Demosthenes, several articles which paid a duty of but two per cent. IT To this class belonged all corn introduced into Athens ;** and several other * Thucyd. iv. 28. t Demosth. Op. i. p. 475. | Namely between Byzantium and Rhodes. Demosth. Op. 1. p. 475. || Thucyd. viii. 28. IT This is the iritTnawTaXoyo? a.vtiy%a.qm, iht tariff of the fiftieth penny. De- mosth. in Mid. Op. i. p. 558. ** Demosth. in Neaer. Op. ii. p. 1353. 212 CHAPTER TENTH. objects, such as fine woollen garments and vessels of silver.* We distinguish in our system of finances between duties on importation and exportation, and taxes on domestic consumption.! It may be asked, if this was also the case in Greece ? I do not doubt that it was ; but in the Grecian cities, as in Rome and perhaps in the whole of the ancient world, these taxes were im- posed in but one very simple form. They were con- nected with the markets. Whatever was there offered for sale, paid a duty ; and hence this duty is men- tioned only with reference to the markets.^ And I find no proof, that the taxes on consumption received in any ancient state the same extent, which they have acquired in several modern countries. $ Beside the taxes already enumerated, there were other particular ones on various articles of luxury. Thus in Ephesus, a tax was paid for wearing gold on the clothes ; and in Lycia, for wearing false hair.|| Examples are preserved by Aristotle, where, in cases of necessity, single cities adopted various extraordi- nary measures, such as the sale of the public estates, If the sale of the privilege of citizenship, taxes on sev- *Demosth. in Mid. Op. i.p. 568, enumerates several. t Such as the excise, licenses, etc. J In Aristot. ii. p. 388. rin ** yu' Hence the expression ; ran iyagiy ta^rtvtrtm lo collect the revenue from the markets. Demosth. Olynth. i. Op. i. p. 15. In Babylon, there existed an antiquated law which was renewed by the governor appointed by Alexander, and which required that a tithe should be paid of every thing brought into the city. Aristot. Op. ii. p. 395. || Aristot. (Econ. ii. Op. ii. p. 385. IT Aristot. 1. c. p. 389. That which follows is also related by him in the same place. POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 213 eral professions and employments,* as of soothsayers and quacks, and monopolies, of which the state pos- sessed itself for a season. In all the Grecian cities, the indirect taxes, espe- cially the duties, were most probably farmed. The custom of farming the revenue prevailed in a much greater degree in several of the monarchical states of antiquity ; in the Grecian republics, it seems to have been restricted to the indirect taxes. It is generally known, that in Athens the duties were farmed ; but the same was the case in Byzantium, in Macedonia, and in other places, f Demosthenes distinguishes three classes of persons who were interested in this transaction; those who rented this branch of the revenue ; their bondsmen ; and the inspectors and receivers.! It would be superfluous to speak of the great evils of this arrangement ; but has it not been preserved by much larger states in modern Europe? One important question still remains : In the Grecian cities, who had the right of fixing the taxes ? The political science of the moderns has regarded it as one of the most important points, as the peculiar characteristic of a free constitution, that the govern- ment should not be permitted to impose taxes without the consent of the people; given directly, or by con- sent of its deputies. In most of the ancient republics, the same custom probably prevailed ; yet it is remark - *A general income tax of ten per cent, on all employments, was laid by king Tachus in Egypt, at the instance of Chabrias. Aristot. 1. c. p. 394. Though executed in Egypt, the idea was that of a Greek ; and Pitt must resign his claim to the invention of the Income tax. t See the passages cited above, which prove this. t Demosth. Op. i. p. 745. ri^s n ^iaftte s , n lyyunsi^i^, 5 ix*.i, to be accused Qiv-yur rrt yfxipri. A private suit was called 1'ix.n, to JUDICIAL INSTITUTIONS. 223 Certain general ideas, according to which Plato makes the distinction, lay at the bottom of this divis- ion. "One class of judicial processes," says he,* " is formed of the suits which one private man, complain- ing of injustice, brings against another. The second class, on the contrary, is, when the state believes itself injured by one of the citizens, or when a citizen comes forward to its assistance. 7 ' According to this explanation, nothing would seem simpler, than the difference between public and private processes. But if we compare the objects comprehended under each of the two classes, we shall find many things enumerat- ed as affairs of the state, which to us do not seem to belong to this class. f Of this, two causes may be mentioned. The first is the view which the Greeks entertained of the relation of the individual citizen to the state. The person of the citizen was highly valued ; and could not but be highly valued, because the whole personal condition was affected by the possession of citizenship. An injury done to a private citizen, was therefore in some measure an injury inflicted on the state; and so far, almost every injustice suffered by the individual, was a public concern. Yet a difference existed even here, according to the degree of the injury ; nor was it indifferent, whether the rights of person, or only those of property had been violated. bring an action \}fiy.n and ilftfiout .-,u I < OO ua- deistood 01 all suits at law, or, according to liie mure strict use of the word, only of private suits? t Aristot. Polit. vi. 2. 228 CHAPTER ELEVENTH. whether the public processes embraced elsewhere as many subjects as at Athens, and as many things, which to us seem to regard the private citizen alone, is a question which we cannot decide for want of information. This point has been entirely overlooked by those, who have written 0:1 the judicial institutions of Greece ; for they had Athens only in view, and treated the subject more as one of jurisprudence than of politics. And yet it is of all the most important. The more limited was the number of public suits, the smaller was the possibility of instituting them, unless some personal injury had previously been sustained. In the list of public offences at Athens, there were many, which, by their very nature, were indefinite. Hence it was easy to bring a public action against almost any one. We need but think of an age of curruption, to understand how Athens, after the Peloponnesian war, could teem with the brood of sycophants, against whom the orators are so loud in their complaints ; and whom all the measures, first adopted in consequence of the magnitude of the evil, all the danger and pun- ishments to which false accusers were exposed, were never sufficient to restrain. Were other cities, at least the democratic ones, in as bad a condition as Athens ? Here we are de- serted by history ; which has preserved for us almost nothing respecting the extent of the public processes and the popular tribunals. But if in Athens several adventitious causes, lying partly in the national char- acter, and partly in the political power of Athens (for the importance of state trials increases with the importance of the state), contributed to multiply this JUDICIAL INSTITUTIONS. 229 class of processes ; it by no means follows, that the number was much smaller in most of the other Gre- cian cities. Popular tribunals are the sources of po- litical revolutions ; and what states abounded in them more than the Grecian? The man of influence, always an object of envy, was the most exposed to ac- cusations, where it was so easy to find a ground of accusation ; but the man of influence had the greatest resources without the precincts of the court. He with his party, if he is conscious of possessing sufficient strength, has recourse to arms, and instead of suffer- ing himself to be banished from the city, prefers to terminate the action by driving away his enemies. Were we more intimately acquainted with the history of the numberless political revolutions in Greece, how often would this same succession of events recur? But though we are not always able to establish them by historical evidence, they cannot on the whole be doubted ; and they distinctly exhibit the close con- nexion which existed between the states and their judicial institutions. 230 CHAPTER TWELFTH. CHAPTER TWELFTH. THE ARMY AND NAVY. THOUGH wars were so frequent in Greece, the art of war did not make any considerable advances. The constitutions and the whole political condition opposed too many obstacles ; and war never became a science, in the full sense of the word, till standing armies were introduced. This has already been satisfactorily proved by history. There were some individual commanders of great merit, who did all that talents could do ; but all that they effected was personal. Besides, the extent of states sets limits to improvement These bounds cannot be accurately marked, where genius and circumstances exercise so much influence ; but the absolute strength must also necessarily be considered. The advancement and perfecting of the art of war require experiments on so large a scale, that small states cannot perform them. After the republican constitutions of the Greeks were established, their armies consisted chiefly of militia. Every citizen was obliged to serve in it, unless the state itself made particular exceptions. In Athens, the obligation continued from the eighteenth to the fifty-eighth year; we do not know whether it was elsewhere the same ; but a great difference could hardly have existed. Each citizen was therefore a THE ARMY AND NAVY. 231, soldier ; even the inquilini, the resident strangers, were not always spared ;* and there were times of distress, when the very slaves were armed, usually under the promise of their freedom, if they should do their duty.f The militia of a country may, under certain cir- cumstances, very nearly resemble a standing army. Yet the principles on which the two are founded, are very different. The citizen who serves as a soldier, has for his object the defence of his family and his property ; and hence the maxim in states, where the army is composed of citizens, that he who has the most to lose, will make the best soldier. In Rome the poorer class (capite censi), till the times of Marius, was excluded from military service ; and it seems to have been hardly otherwise in Athens.J Yet this poorer class was or grew to be the most numerous ; accustomed to privations, those who composed it were perhaps for that reason the best .fitted for the duties of war. When, on the contrary, standing armies are formed, property ceases to be regarded ; and the greatest number of enlistments is made from the needy part of the community. What a contrast between this and the Grecian institutions ! Considering therefore the moderate extent of the Grecian states, it was the less to be expected that any of them could assemble a large army, if the slaves were not enrolled. Even where every one was put in motion, the number remained limited; not more * They were at least obliged sometimes to do naval service. Demosth. Phil. i. Op. i. p. 50. fThucyd. iv. 5. t Harpocration in &wnt. Yet it is evident from the passage, that the case was different in the time of Demosthenes. 232 CHAPTER TWELFTH. than ten thousand Athenians fought on the plain of Marathon. Large armies could be collected only by the union of many states ; the most numerous ever collected in Greece during its independence, was in the battle of Platseae.* But these considerable alli- ances were commonly of a temporary nature ; and for that reason the art of war could not be much advanced by them. From the battle of Plataese till the age of Epaminondas, that is, during the most flourishing period of Greece, a Grecian army of thirty thousand men was probably never assembled in one place. The Persian wars seem to have been suited to promote the improvement of military science. But after the battle of Plataeae, it was the navy and not the land forces which became of decisive influence. After that battle, no considerable one was fought by land ; no large Grecian army was again brought together. By maintaining the ascendancy in the ^Egean sea, Greece was protected. The petty wars, which, after the victories over the Persians, were carried on between the several states, could not contribute much to the advancement of the art. They were nothing but single expeditions, decided by single insignificant engagements. No such advancement could therefore be expected till the time of the Peloponnesian war, which involved all Greece. But this war soon came to be carried on more by sea than by land ; and the military opera- tions consisted principally in sieges. No single great battle was fought on land during its whole course ; besides naval science, therefore, the art of besieging * About 111,000 men. But only 38,000 were heavily armed ; and of the light armed troops, 37,000 were Spartan Helots. Herod, ix. 29, 30. THE ARMY AND NAVY. 233 may have made some progress, especially in the expedition against Syracuse. But as this expedition terminated in the total destruction of the army, it could have no abiding consequences. Till the age of Epaminondas, Sparta and Athens are the only states which attract our attention. In Sparta, where the militia resembled a standing army, it would seem that the art of war might have made advances. But two causes prevented. The one was the obstinate attachment to ancient usage, which ren- dered changes and improvements difficult. The other was the remarkable scarcity of great command- ers, a scarcity to have been least expected in a war- like state ; but which may have proceeded from the former cause. If we possessed a history of Pausanias, written by himself, it would perhaps show us how his talents, limited in their exercise by the regulations of his native city, proved ruinous to himself, as in the case of the German Wallenstein, by making him a traitor. Leonidas has our admiration for his great- ness as a man, not as a general ; and the fiery Brasi- das, well fitted to be the hero of a revolutionary war, like the Peloponnesian, fell in the very beginning of his career,* and no worthy successors appeared till Lysander and Agesilaus. And of the first of these two, it is known that he trusted rather in the Persian subsidies than in himself. More could then have been expected from Athens. But here, as our preceding remarks have made ap- parent, the army was subordinate to the navy. From *Thucyd. v. 10. When we read his proclamation, addressed to the Acanthians, Thucyd. iv. 85. we believe ourselves brought down to the years 1793 and 1794. 30 234 CHAPTER TWELFTH. the commencement of the splendid period of that republic, its political greatness rested on the latter. This preserved to it the ascendancy ; its allies were maritime cities, and assisted with ships rather than with troops ; and the destiny of Athens was decided on the sea, gloriously at Salamis, and tragically on the Hellespont.* In Athens^ therefore, no strong motive could exist, to perfect the art of war by land. Such were the obstacles in general ; others lay in the manner in which the military affairs of the Gre- cians were organized. We mention first the situation of the commanders ; at least in Athens and in several other cities ;f in which not one, but several generals shared the chief command with one another, and even that usually for a short period of time. Where a militia exists, the political divisions are usually military in their origin. Such was the case with the tribes hi Rome and in Athens.^ The ten wards of this last city had each its own leader ; and these together were the generals. So it was in the Persian, so in the Peloponnesian war.|| That a simi- lar regulation existed in Bceotia, is evident from the number of their commanders ; and we learn the same respecting Syracuse, as well from the history of its war with Athens, If as from the elevation of Dionysius. In Athens, a kind of destiny secured in the decisive moment, the preponderance to a superior mind, a *In the year 406 B. C. near yEgospotamos. t As e. g. in Thebes and in Syracuse. J These were called tribus in Rome, $vAu in Athens. The oT^nTnyoi, of whom ten were annually appointed. || Compare the instructive narration in Herod, yi. 109, respecting the consultation previous to the battle of Marathon. II Thucyd. vi. 63. * THE ARMY AND NAVY. 235 Miltiades ; but where the command was shared by so many, it is obvious that existing institutions could receive but little improvement. Another still greater obstacle lay in the circum- stance, that the troops were not paid. Before the Peloponnesian war, or at least before the administra- tion of Pericles, no pay was given in Athens or any Grecian city, except, perhaps, Corinth. Military service was the duty of a citizen ; and he who served, was obliged to provide for himself. But he who receives nothing from the state, will the less sub- mit to its commands. From that period, the custom of paying was so far introduced, that those who had actually taken the field, received a very small com- pensation.* With such a constitution, moral causes must have outweighed commands. Courage and patriotism can animate an army of citizens, but can hardly make a machine of them ; and what fruits would have been gathered by him, who should have succeeded in the attempt ? Beside these difficulties, there existed in many states another, arising from the weakness of their cavalry, or a total want of it. Homer knows nothing of cavalry. It does not seem to have been introduced into the Grecian states till after the establishment of republican forms of government ; since, according to the remark of Aristotle, the opulent citizens found in it at once a support of their power and a gratification of their vanity, f But whether a city could have cavalry, depended on the nature of its territory, and the quantity of pasture which it possessed. Where * The Athenians paid from two to four oboli daily, t On Sparta, consult Xenoph. Op. p. 596. 236 CHAPTER TWELFTH. the territory was not favourable, the cavalry was not strong. Athens, where so much attention was paid to this subject, never had more than a thousand men ; Sparta appears, before Agesilaus, to have had few, or perhaps originally none at all ; the Peloponnesus was little adapted to it ; and Thessaly, the only state of the mother country which possessed any consider- able body of it, was not remarkably skilful in making use of it.* Where it existed, none but wealthy citi- zens could serve in it, for the service was expensive. This was the case in Athens ;f and yet here the state provided for the support of the horses even in time of peace ; and the weak but splendid cavalry formed no inconsiderable article in the sum of the yearly expenditures.^ Previous to the Macedonian times, the distinction between heavy and light horse seems to have been unknown in Greece ; though it would be too much to assert that a difference in the equipments nowhere prevailed. The Athenian horsemen were equipped much like a modern cuirassier, with breastplate, hel- met, and greaves ; and even the horses were partly covered. From the exercises which Xenophon prescribes, to leap over ditches and walls, we must not conceive the armour as too cumbersome. || I find no accounts of that of the Thessalian cavalry ; but * See the account of their war with the Phocians. Pausan. p. 798. The forces of Thessaly seem to have consisted chiefly in cavalry ; at least noth- ing else is mentioned. The surest proof of their little progress in the art of war. t The knights, on Pausanias. THE ARMY AND NAVY. 241 rate attack made by the Tegeans and the Spar- tans, than of artful evolutions. In the days which preceded the battle, Pausanias appears as a general of prudence and sound judgment; he owed the victory not to himself, but to a part of his army and to fortune. Of the battles which the able and successful Cimon won of the Persians, history has preserved no details ; but yet enough to show, that the science of tactics was not advanced by them. They were for the most part naval engagements : those which took place on land, were only unexpected attacks. After his death, Plutarch tells us expressly, nothing great or consider- able was executed.* The first campaigns of the Peloponnesian war show beyond dispute, that the art of war, in a higher sense, had made but little progress. They were only inroads followed by nothing decisive. We have al- ready remarked, why, in the progress of that long and weary war, tactics gained so little. The case was changed, when, after this war, Sparta, contending for the rank she had won, found her Agesilaus, and was yet obliged to yield the ascen- dancy to Thebes. Here the decision was made by armies and not by navies. In the view of those states, therefore, armies rose in importance. We will not refuse to Agesilaus any of the praises which Xenophon has lavished on him. He was a mod- el not only of a Spartan, but of a Grecian general. In the Spartan method of war, he made one change j in his wars against the Persians in Asia, he was the first to form a numerous cavalry ; and to show that he *Plntarch. in Cimone, Op. Hi. p. 217. 31 242 CHAPTEll TWELFTH. knew the use of it.* Except this, he made no essen- tial alteration in the tactics. The proof of this is found in the description which Xenophon has givenf of the battle of Coronea. The same usual position was taken : the usual method of attack, by opposing a straight line to a straight line ; without any artifi- cial evolutions, either before or during the battle. If it should appear from all this, that the higher branches of the art of war, including tactics, had not made so considerable progress as might have been expected from the greatest of commanders, we would not in any degree diminish the fame of those distin- guished men. Their glory rests on something inde- pendent of the mere evolutions of their armies. The Grecian leader was more closely united to his sol- diers ; he was obliged to know how to gain the confidence of his fellow -soldiers, who at the same time were his fellow-citizens. This could not be done by commands; rank and birth were here of no avail; every thing depended on personal character ; and to be esteemed a great man it was necessary to give proofs of greatness. It is the glory of the Greek nation, that it produc- ed in almost every science and art the man, who first clearly recognised the eternal principles on which it rests, and by the application of them, unconsciously became the instructer of posterity. In the art of war, such a man appeared in Epaminondas. His fame as a warrior is his least glory ; the world should behold in him the noblest character of his nation. He was for his * But that too was only temporary. The battle of Leuctra shows ho\v bad the Spartan cavalry was at a subsequent period. See Xenoph. Op. p. 696. > Xenoph. in Agesil. Op. p. 659. THE ARMY AND NAVY. 243 age, what Gustavus Adolphus was for a later one. If we take from each of these great men, the peculiari- ties of their times, it will be difficult to find two more congenial spirits, two characters more nearly resem- bling each other. The parallel we leave for others to draw ; of both we never can hear too much ; it is Epaminondas, the skilful soldier, whom we are now to consider. The idea on which his change in the method of war was founded, was as simple as the man him- self; and we can hardly fail of observing, that it pro- ceeded from his peculiar situation. With an inferior force he had to cope with a more powerful adversary ;* and this is the true criterion of military genius. It did not escape him, that he could not succeed with the former order of battle, according to which one line was drawn up in front of the other. Hence he determined to concentrate the attack in one point with a part of his army, whilst he withdrew the rest ; and his object was, in that one point to break through the hostile line. In this manner he was triumphant at Leuctra, where he fell upon the right wing of the Spartans. But at Leuctra, the success of the Theban cavalry had led the way to a successful issue ; it is at Mantinea, that we see for the first time the full application of the new tactics, which are described to us by one pro- foundly acquainted with the subject. " Epaminon- das," says Xenophon,f u advanced with his army like a galley with threatening prow ; sure that if he could once break through the line of his adversaries, a *The Spartan forces in the battle of Leuctra were thrice as numerous as the Theban ; and besides, till that time, had been reckoned invincible. tXenoph. H. Gr. vi. Op. p. 596. We learn from the same passage how much the excellent Theban cavalry (formed by Pelopidas) surpassed the Spartan. 244 CHAPTEU TWELFTH. general flight would ensue. He therefore determined to make the attack with the flower of his army, while he drew back the weaker part of it." Thus the illustrious Theban solved the great problem in tactics, by means of its position, to use the several parts of an army at will ; the art of war, which was thus invented, deserved the name, and was the same which ensured to Alexander the victory on the Granicus, as well as to Frederic at Leuthen. It is easy to be perceived, that the execution of the plan was a still greater effort than its invention. Troops far better trained than the usual armies of the Greeks, were needed. And it is in this very circumstance, that Xenophon, him- self an experienced officer^ places the great merit of Epaminondas.* We may therefore say with truth, that the higher branches of the art of war began with Epaminondas to be understood. But even before him, a change had gradually taken place in the whole military regulations ; a change of the most decisive impor- tance. We allude to the custom of paying the troops. In states which originally made exclusive use of mili- tia, the form and the spirit of their military institu- tions must have been changed by the introduction of mercenary troops. These could not have the internal regulations of the militia; which were founded on the division of the citizens ; and although the Swiss mer- cenaries of the sixteenth century have proved that battles can be gained even with hired soldiers, yet the examples of those times have also proved that evils are inseparable from the custom. *Xenoph. Op.p. 645. THE ARMY AND NAVY. 245 The use of mercenaries in Greece, may be traced to a very remote period. The tyrants, those usurpers who made their appearance in the cities at so early a date, were doubtless the first to introduce it ; because they needed an armed force to protect their usurped authority. But this force did not always consist of foreigners ; but rather, especially in the early times, of an armed party of the citizens, or was selected from among the partisans of the tyrant ;* and further, an institution which was regarded as unjust, could not continue, still less be adopted and regularly es- tablished. Hired troops, of which we would here treat, began to be employed in the Grecian cities at a later period. In the beginning of the Persian war, at Marathon and at Platseae we hear nothing of them. In the Pelopon- nesian war, they were commonly,! and after these times, almost universally employed. Several causes operated to produce this effect. The first was the whole condition of private life. When luxury and the comforts of life were introduced after the Persians were known, it is not astonishing that the rich desired to be free from military service. On the other hand, the Peloponnesian war and the almost universal revolutions produced by it, had so increased the number of the poor, that there was a *This was done by Pisistratus on his first usurpation ; Herod, i. 59. In later times (let the history of Syracuse be called to mind), the hired troops of the tyrants were wholly or chiefly composed of foreigners. t The hired troops of the Spartans, from the Peloponnesus, arc mentioned as early as the times of Brasidas ; Thucyd. L. iv. 80 ; those of Athens from Thrace, about the same time ; Thucyd. L. v. 6. ; those of the Corinthians and others we find constantly mentioned. In the Peloponnesus, it was chiefly the Arcadians who served as mercenaries ; hence the proverb among the poets ; \\ 'A ? *aV s \xmoveai, Athen. i. p. 27. for they did not serve for nothing. 246 CHAPTER TWELFTH. numerous class who made a profession of war, and were ready to serve any one who would pay them. But still more important was the fact, that with the Persians no less than the Greeks, the same change in domestic life produced the same consequences. The subsidies of the former first enabled the Spartans to hire troops. But they soon hired in their turn, and in greater numbers than the Greeks ; and no merce- naries were so acceptable, none so indispensable to them as the Grecian. The high wages which they gave, like those of the British in modern times, allur- ed numerous troops across the sea ; and we need but call to mind the ten thousand whom Clearchus led to Cyrus the younger, and with whom Xenophon made his retreat,* to be convinced that great multitudes followed this kind of life. The subsequent Phocian warf was conducted by the Phocians, who were aided by the treasures of Delphi, almost exclusively with hired troops ; and Demosthenes is loud in his com- plaints and censure of a custom, which all his elo- quence was not able to change.} Of all writers, Isocrates has spoken the most distinct- ly on this subject His long life continued almost through the whole period in which this custom arose ; and the consequences were so distinctly visible in his old age, his patriotism could not but break forth in lamentations. Those very troops of Clearchus and Xenophon, troops which had made the Persians trem- ble, who were they ? Men, says Isocrates, of such reputation, that they could not reside in their native *In (he year 400 B. C. t Called also (he Sacred war, from 357 till 347 B. C. $ See his Philippic and Olynthiac orations. Isocrat. Panegyr. Op. p. 71. THE ARMY AND NAVY. 247 cities. " Formerly," says he in another place,* " there was no such thing as mercenaries ; now the situation of Greece is such, that it would be far easi- er to raise an army of vagabonds than of citizens." The natural consequence of this state of things was, that he who had the most money, had also the most power. He could raise an army at will. But on how uncertain a foundation did this power repose ? The rich man can be outbid by the rich ; and Greece learned, what Carthage learned also with a more melan- choly certainty,f that a state which trusts to mercenary troops, must finally tremble before them. " Unless we are careful," says Isocrates to Philip,:}: " to pro- vide for the support of these people by establish- ing colonies of them, they will soon collect in vast troops, and be more formidable to the Hellenes, than the barbarians."^ We have already remarked, that in the eyes of the Greeks, the navy was more important than the army. They very early distinguished ships of war from merchant vessels ; of which the consequence was, that, as the former belonged to the state, to build and fit out fleets was entirely a public concern. Yet to judge correctly of the condition and progress of naval science among the Greeks, we must not forget, that the scene of action for their squadrons was and continued to be, limited to the ^gean and Ionian seas. The expedition of Athens against Syracuse, is the most distant which was ever undertaken by any *Isocrat. Or. ad Phil. Op. p. 101. t In the wars with the mercenaries, 240237 B. C. { Isocrat. ad Philip. Op. p. 106. We learn from Xenophon's retreat, that they were formidable to their own commanders ; just as were the Swiss at Milan. 248 CHAPTER TWELFTH. Grecian fleet of the mother country ; with what suc- cess is known. Even the Black sea, though open to their vessels of commerce, was hardly visited by their gallies of war, because no occasion ever required it. The seas which they navigated were full of islands ; it was never difficult to find landing-places and har- bours ; and the naval expeditions were not much more than passages by sea. Farther 5 Greece, especially the most cultivated eastern part of it, did not abound in wood ; and though some of the western or inland districts* were better provided with it, the rivers, which were hardly more than mountain streams, afforded little opportunity for the transportation of timber. The cities, therefore, which built fleets, were obliged to seek their timber at a distance ; we know of Athens, that it imported what it needed from Thrace.f The expense was therefore necessarily great ; none but the richest cities were able to bear them ; and hence it is easy to see, that limitations were produced, which make the exertions of several states for their navy, appear to us in a very extraor- dinary light. Finally ; the manning of the fleets was attended with peculiar difficulties. Two kinds of men, mariners and soldiers, were employed. The latter were citizens, and belonged to the militia ; but according to the earlier regulations, the citizens were not obliged to do service on board of the ships. Slaves were used in part, especially for the oars ; and in part foreigners were hired. Such is the description given by Isocrates. " Formerly," says he,f " in the better times of Athens, foreigners and slaves were * As Acarnania and Arcadia. t Thucyd. iv. 108. t Isocrat. de Pace, Op. p. 169. See Scheffer de Milit. Naut. ii. 3. THE ARMY AND NAVY. 249 used for the management of the vessels ; but cit- izens performed service in arms. - Now the case is reversed ; those of the city are compelled to serve as mariners,* while the soldiers consist of mercena- ries." The manning of the fleets was therefore at- tended with great expense ; and it is known respect- ing them from the Peloponnesian war, that Sparta could not have borne them but for the alliance and subsidies of Persia. These causes are sufficient to limit our expecta- tions of the naval affairs of the Grecians. Yet here, also, the different epochs must be distinguished. We learn of Homer and of the Argonautic poets, that the Greeks even in the heroic age had ships, which were fitted out for distant voyages. The pira- cy, which before that period had been so common, must have made it necessary for ships to be prepared, not only for carrying freight, but for fighting. These vessels were called long, by way of distinguishing them from the more ancient, round ones, which were fit only for the transportation of merchandise ; though we would by no means deny, that the former were also used for the purposes of commerce. It was char- acteristic of them, that all the rowers sat in one line. In such times of insecurity, fast sailing is the chief merit of a vessel ; be it for the attack or for flight. This must have been promoted in the lengthened vessels, both by the form itself, and the increased number of rowers ; which gradually rose from twenty to fifty and even more. Hence there was a particular class * Especially the Inquilini. See above, p. 231. 32 250 CHAPTER TWELFTH. of ships, which derived their name from that circum- stance.* But the incident which made a real and the only epoch in the history of Grecian naval architecture, is the invention of the triremes. They were distinguished by the triple order of benches for rowing, placed one above the other, f It thus became necessary to build them much higher ; and though swiftness may have been carefully regarded, strength and firmness must have been viewed as of equal importance. But even before the Macedonian times, and always after them, the chief strength of the Grecian fleet lay in the triremes, just as that of modern fleets in ships of the line of the second and third rate. ' The structure of the triremes would alone warrant the inference, that a naval force, that is, a squadron destined solely for war, and possessed by the state. did not exist in Greece till after these were invented. But there is in ThucydidesJ a passage, which in my opinion settles this point beyond a doubt. g!ai, or classes, pronounced in the year 354 B. C. He opposed an offensive war against the Persians, for which the Athenians v/ere ready, in the hope of effecting a general union of the Greeks. Here we al- ready find the maxim, which formed the theme of his subsequent orations, as of the speeches of Chatham ; To stand on one's own feet. 278 CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. war, he for the first time appeared against that mon- arch in his first Philippic oration.* From this period he had found the great business of his life. Some- times as counsellor, sometimes as accuser, sometimes as ambassador, he protected the independence of his country against the Macedonian policy. Splendid success seemed at first to reward his exertions. He had already won a number of states for Athens ;f when Philip invaded Greece, he had already succeed- ed not only in gaining over the Thebans, but in kindling their enthusiasm ;f when the day of Chaero- nea dashed his hopes to the earth. ^ But he cour- ageously declares in the assembly of the people, that he still does not repent of the counsels which he had given. T[ An unexpected incident changes the whole aspect of things. Philip falls the victim of assassina- tion ;|| and a youth, who as yet is but little known, is his successor. Immediately Demosthenes institutes a second alliance of the Greeks ; but Alexander sud- denly appears before Thebes ; the terrible vengeance which he here takes, instantly destroys the league ; Demosthenes, Lycurgus, and several of their support- ers, are required to be delivered up ; but Demades is at that time able to settle the difficulty and to appease the king.** His strength was therefore enfeebled, as Alexander departed for Asia; he begins to raise his head once more, when Sparta * Pronounced in the year 352. t Achaia, Corinth, Megara, and others. Plut. iv. p. 720. J Plut. iv. p. 722. A. leading passage respecting his political activity. In the year 338 B.C. fi Plut. iv. p. 726. His enemies even then endeavoured to attack him, but in vain. The people assigned to him the funeral oration on those who tell at Chcfronea ; and by this did honour to him and to themselves. il In the year 336 B. C. * Plutarch, iv. p. 731. STATESMEN AND ORATORS. 279 attempts to throw off the yoke ;* but under Antipater he is overpowered. Yet it was about this very time that by the most celebrated of his discourses he gam- ed the victory over the most eloquent of his adversa- ries ; and ^schines was forced to depart from Athens, f But this seems only to have the more embittered his enemies, the leaders of the Macedonian party ; and they soon found an opportunity of preparing his downfall. When Harpalus, a fugitive from the army of Alexander, came with his treasures to Athens, and the question arose, whether he could be permitted to remain there, Demosthenes was accused of having been corrupted by his money, at least to be silent. J This was sufficient to procure the imposition of a fine ; and as this was not paid, he was thrown into prison. From thence he succeeded in escaping ; but to the man who lived only for his country, exile was no less an evil than imprisonment. He resided for the most part in jEgina and at Troezen, from whence he looked with moist eyes towards the neighbouring Attica. || Suddenly and unexpectedly a new ray of light broke through the clouds. Tidings were brought, that Alexander was dead.H The moment of deliverance seemed at hand; the excitement pervaded every Grecian state ; the ambassadors of the Athenians passed through the cities ; Demosthenes joined him- self to the number, and exerted all his eloquence and power to unite them against Macedonia.** In re- * In the year 330 B. C. tThe oration for the Crown. The trial took place in the year 330 B. C. } Plutarch, iv. p. 733. I leave it to the reader to form an opinion respect- ing the anecdotes which are there related. His accuser was Dinarchu.s, whose calumnious oration we still possess. Or. Gr. vol. iv. Reisk. Of 50 talents ; (not far from 45000 dollars) ; Plut. iv. p. 735. H Plut. iv. 736. H In the year 323. ** Plut. iv. p. 737. 280 CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. quital for such services, the people decreed his return; and years of sufferings were at last followed by a day of exalted compensation. A galley was sent to JCgina to bring back the advocate of liberty. All Athens was in motion; no magistrate, no priest remain- ed in the city, when it was reported that Demosthe- nes was advancing from the Piraeeus.* Overpowered by his feelings, he extended his arms and declared himself happier than Alcibiades ;f for his countrymen had recalled him, not by compulsion, but from choice. It was a momentary glimpse of the sun, which still darker clouds were soon to conceal. Antipater and Craterus were victorious ; and with them the Mace- donian party in Athens ; Demosthenes and his friends were numbered among the accused, and at the insti- gation of Demades were condemned to die. They had already withdrawn in secret from the city ; but where could they find a place of refuge ? Hyperides with two others took refuge in /Egina in the temple of Ajax. In vain ! they were torn away, dragged before Antipater, and executed. Demosthenes had escaped to the island Calauria in the vicinity of Trcezen ; and took refuge in the temple of Neptune.J It was to no purpose, that Archias, the satellite of Antipater, urged him to surrender himself under promise of pardon. He pretended he wished to write something ; bit the quill, and swallowed the poison contained in it. He then veiled himself, reclining his head backwards, till he felt the operation of the poison. " O Neptune !" he exclaimed, " they have defiled thy temple ; but honouring thee, I will leave it while yet living." But * Pint. iv. p. 738. t Who saw a similar day of return. tSee.fortbe following, Plut. iv. p. 741. STATESMEN AND ORATORS. 281 he sank before the altar,* and a sudden death sep- arated him from a world, which, after the fall of his country, contained no happiness for him. Where shall we find a character of more grandeur and purity than that of Demosthenes ? It seemed by no means superfluous to exhibit a picture of Grecian statesmen during that period, by sketching the history of him, who holds the first rank among them. We learn from it, that the sphere of action of such men, though they are called orators, extended far beyond their orations. From these, it is true, we chiefly derive our knowledge of them. But how dif- ferently would Demosthenes appear to us, if we were particularly acquainted with the details of his political career.f How much must have been needed to effect such an alliance, as he was repeatedly able to form ? What journeys, what connexions, what skill in winning persons of influence, and in managing mankind ? And what were the means which these statesmen of antiquity could command, when we compare them with those of modern times ? They had no orders from the cabinet to execute. They had not the dis- posal of the wealth of nations ; they could not obtain by force, what others would not voluntarily yield. Even the comparison which might be made between them and the British statesmen, is true only as far as the latter also stood in need of eloquence to con- firm their influence. But the other means which * What a subject for the art of sculpture ! and yet one, which has never, to my knowledge, been made use of. The artist would only need to draw after Plutarch. t If the voice of history on this subject were not loud enough, this might be inferred from the calumnies of Dinarchus. It is not inconsistent with it, that Demosthenes may sometimes, in his negotiations, have been too much carried away by the liveliness of his feelings. 36 282 CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. Pitt could employ to form a party, were not possessed by Demosthenes. He had no presents to offer, no places to give away, no ribbons and decorations to promise. On the contrary, he was opposed by men, who could control every thing by which covetousness or ambition can be tempted. What could he oppose to them, but his talents, his activity, and his courage ? Provided with no other arms, he supported the con- test against the superiority of foreign strength, and the still more dangerous contest with the corruptions of his own nation. It was his high calling, to be the pillar o'f a sinking state. Thirty years he remained true to it, and he did not yield till he was buried beneath it ruins. SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 283 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. THE SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. THE relation which exists between science and political institutions, is of a twofold nature. It may he asked, What has the state done for the promotion of the sciences ? And also, What influence in return have the sciences, or any particular branches of them, exerted on the state ? Both questions deserve to be considered in the case of the Greeks. Where the government is actively engaged in promoting the sciences, their previous existence may be inferred. To create them neither is, nor can be a concern of the state. Even where they are begin- ning to flourish, it cannot at once be expected, that they should receive public support ; because they do not stand in immediate relation with the general gov- ernment. ' They are the fruit of the investigations of individual eminent men ; who have a right to expect nothing, but that no hindrances should be laid in the way of their inquiries and labours. Such was the situation of tilings in the Grecian states, at the time when scientific pursuits began to gain life. What inducement could the state have had to interfere at once for their encouragement. In Greece the motive which was of influence in the East, did not exist. Religion had no secret doctrines. She required no institutions for their dissemination. There certainly were public schools for instruction in reading, writing, 284 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. and in music (poetry and song) ; over which teachers were appointed in all the principal cities ; and the laws provided that no abuses dangerous to youth should find entrance to them.* But in most of them the masters were probably not paid by the state ;f they received a compensation from their pupils. The same is true of the more advanced instruction deliver- ed by the sophists ; some of whom amassed wealth from their occupation ; yet not at the expense of the state, but of their pupils. Thus it appears, that excepting the gymnasia, which were destined for bodily exercises, and of which the support was one of the duties incumbent on citi- zens,:}: no higher institutions for instruction existed previous to the Macedonian age. But when the mass of scientific knowledge had accumulated ; when it was felt how valuable that knowledge was to the state ; when the monarchical constitutions were introduced after the age of Alexander ; provision was made for such institutions ; the museum of Alexandria and that of Pergamus were established ; and it still remains for a more thorough investigation to decide, whether the state remained wholly inactive, while the schools of philosophy and of rhetoric were forming. Shall the Gre- cian republics, then, still continue to be cited ; as has "been done by the celebrated founder of a new school of * See the laws of Solon on this point. Petit. Leg. Att. L. ii. Tit. iv. p. 239. 1 1 limit the proposition on purpose, for it would be altogether false to assert generally, that this never took place. Charonidas in his laws at Cata- na, which were afterwards adopted in Thurium, had expressly enacted, that the schoolmasters should be paid by the state ; Diod. xii. p. 80. as an affair of the utmost importance. Since the schools were so carefully watched over, may not the same have taken place in many other cities ? This how- ever is true only of the inferior or popular schools. ; see Petit, iii. Tit. iv. p. 355. SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 285 political economy, in proof that the state should leave the sciences to provide for themselves ? Should it not rather encourage and provide for them in countries, \vhere the cukure of most of them is in several relations necessary for its welfare ? where the teacher of re- ligion as well as the judge, where the physician as well as the statesman, stands in need of various kinds of knowledge ? But when that assertion is understood as implying that the state among the Greeks was wholly uncon- cerned about intellectual culture and improvement, but left these subjects to themselves, a monstrous error lies at the bottom of it. No states in the whole course of history have proportionally done more for them than the Grecian ; but they did it in a different manner from the moderns. We measure intellectual culture by the state of science ; for which our modern states, as is well known, have at times done so much and so little ; the Greeks, on the contrary, were accustomed to find their standard in the arts. The state among the Greeks did little for the sciences, because it did every thing for the arts. The latter as we shall more fully explain hereafter, were of more immediate importance to it than the former ; while the reverse is true among the moderns. How then can we be astonished that the arts were the chief object of interest to the Grecian states ? The answer to the other question embraces a wider field : Among the Greeks, what consequences had the sciences for the state? And here we would in the first place treat of philosophy, and then annex to the inquiry on that subject, some remarks respect- ing history. 386 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. After so many acute and copious explanations of the Grecian philosophy, no one will here expect a new analysis of their systems. It is our object to show how the connexion between philosophy and politics originated among the Greeks, how it was continued and increased, and what was its influence ? The philosophy of the Greeks, as of other nations, began with inquiries into the origin of things. The opinions of the Ionian school respecting it are gener- ally known. If, as a modern historical critic has made to appear very probable,* they were at first connected with religious representations, as we find them in the Orphic precepts, they did not long remain thus united, for they were stript of their mythological garb ; and in this manner the philosophy of the Greeks gained its independence, while in the East it always remained connected with religion. But it is nowhere mentioned, that the philosophers who be- longed to this school, had made the state the object of their inquiries ; yet if we consider Anaxagoras as of the number, his connexion with Pericles, and the influence which by means of his instructions he exer- cised over that statesman, are remarkable. But, as we observed in a former chapter, no instruction in a philosophic system was given ; but in the application of some propositions in natural philosophy to practical politics. Plutarch has preserved for us the true object. " He freed Pericles," says the biographer, f "from that supersition, which proceeds from false judgments respecting auguries and prodigies, by explaining to him their natural causes." He who bears * Bouterweck. Commentatio de primis philosopliorum Graccorum decretis physicis. See Gott. Gel. Anzeig. 1812. St. 11. t Plut. i. p. 597. SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 287 in mind the great influence exercised by this belief or superstition on the undertakings of the statesmen of antiquity, will not mistake the importance of such instruction ; and he will also understand the conse- quences, which could follow this diminution of respect for the popular religion in the eyes of the multitude. The persecution of Anaxagoras for denying the gods, and exercising his reason respecting celestial things,* could not be averted by Pericles himself; who was obliged to consent to the banishment of the philoso- pher. And this was the commencement of the con- test between philosophy and the popular religion ; a contest, which was afterwards repeatedly renewed, and was attended by further consequences, that we must not omit to observe. Pythagoras, though somewhat younger than the founder of the Ionian school, was himself an Ionian of the island of Samos. Nevertheless he found his sphere of action not there, but in Croton in Lower Italy. Of no one of the Grecian sages is the history so involved in the obscurities of tradition and the marvellous ; and yet no other became of such political importance.! If we desire to estimate the influ- ence of his philosophy on the state, we must by all means distinguish the influence of the Pythagorean * Plutarch, i. p. 654, 665. t We cannot exactly fix the year of tbe birth or of the death of Pythago- ras. It is most probable that he came to Croton about the year 540 ; he was certainly there at the period of the destruction of Sybaris, in the year 510 B. C. His society which existed at that time, was afterwards, about the year 500 B. C., dissolved by Cylon and his faction. Little remains to be added to the critical inquiries of Meiners respecting the Pythagorean Philosophy. It is chiefly these inquiries which confer a value on Meiners' History of the Sciences in Greece and Rome. Agreeably to the spirit of our work, we would only offer our view of the subject to the consideration of others. 288 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. league on the cities of Magna Graecia, from the influ- ence of his philosophy on Greece itself, after that league had come to an end. If we subject to a critical investigation, that which antiquity relates in a credible manner of his society and their objects, we observe a phenomenon, which is in many respects without a parallel. And yet I believe this is most intimately connected with the aristocratic and democratic factions which may be remarked so frequently in the Grecian states. Pythag- oras had deserted Samos, to escape from the govern- ment of Polycrates ; and whatever scruples may be raised respecting his other journies, no one has denied his residence in Egypt. At the time when he visited this country, probably under Amasis, who made it accessible to the Greeks, the throne of the Pharaohs was still standing, and the influence of the cast of priests unimpaired. From them it is certain that he adopted much, both in respect to dress and manner of living ; and could it have escaped a man of his penetration, how much can be effected in a state by the union of men of influence ; although he must have seen, that a cast of priests could never thrive among the Greeks ? According to all which we hear respecting him, he was master of the art of exciting, not attention only, but enthusiasm. His dignity, his dress, the purity of his morals, his eloquence, were of such a kind, that men were inclined to exalt him above the class of common mortals.* A comparison of the his- tory of the several cities in Magna Graecia, at the time of his appearing in them, distinctly shows, that * See the passages in proof of this in Meiners, B. i. S. 405, &ic. They are chiefly taken from Aristoxenus, one of the most credible witnesses. SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 289 the government, in the most flourishing of them, was possessed by the higher class. Against this order, a popular party began about this time to be formed ; and the controversies of the two soon occasioned the des- truction of Sybaris.* Pythagoras, who was any thing rather a friend to the mob, joined the party of the higher orde'r ; which in its turn found its support in his splendid talents. But this was the period in which luxury had risen in those cities, and especially in the rich families, to a degree never before known. It could not escape a man like him, that this corruption of manners must be followed by the downfall of his party ; and hence it was natural for him to resolve to found his political reform on a moral one.f Being intimately connected with the higher order, he united them in a narrower circle ; and necessity soon occa- sioned a distinction to be made between the class of those who were on probation, and those who were already admitted. J Self-government was the grand object of his moral reform. For this end he found it necessary to prescribe a certain manner of life, which was distinguished by a most cleanly but not luxurious clothing, a regular diet, a methodi- cal division of time, part of which was to be appro- priated to one's self and part to the state. And this may have contributed not a little to the formation of * The party of the nobles. 500 in number, fled after their banishment from thence to Croton, and prayed for protection ; which they received princi- pally by the advice of Pythagoras. Diod. xii. p. 77. Wechel. The passages which prove that those cities had aristocratical constitutions, may be found in Meinei s, i. 396. t See the passages in evidence of this, and the incredible sensation pro- duced by him, in Meiners, i. p. 396. { Therefore in Herod, ii. 81, the Pythagorean sect is enumerated among the mysteries, 37 290 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. those firm friendships, without which not much influ- ence on public affairs can be exercised in republics. His acquaintance with speculative and mathematical science need not here be mentioned, since it is alto- gether unknown to us, how far he applied it to political purposes. When we consider, that his society, of which he himself formed the central point, but which had its branches in the other cities of Magna Grsecia, and according to some accounts even in Carthage and Cyrene, continued to exist for at least thirty years, we can realize, that it may have borne not only blossoms, but fruits. His disciples came by degrees to fill the most important posts, not only in Croton, but also in the other Grecian cities ; and yet at the time of the destruction of Sybaris, the sect must have existed in its full force ; since Pythagoras advised the reception of the banished ;* and in the war against Sybaris, one of his most distinguished scholars, the wrestler Milo,f held the supreme command. But when a secret society pursues political ends, it naturally follows, that an opposing party increases in the same degree in which the preponderating influence of such a society becomes more felt.J But in this case, the opposition existed already in the popular party. & It * Diod. 1. c. t Violent bodily exercises formed a part of the discipline of Pythagoras. Six times in one Olympiad, prizes atOIyinpia were gained in those days by inhabitants of Croton. Must not this too have contributed to increase the fame of Pythagoras ? $ Need I cite the example of the Illuminati ? Cylon, the author of that commotion, is described as the leader of the democratic party ; and this is proved by the anarchy which ensued after (lie catastrophe, and continued till order was restored by the mother cities in Achaia. SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 291 therefore only needed a daring leader, like Cylon, to scatter the society by violence ; the assembly was surprised, and most of them cut down, while a few only, and with them their master, escaped. After such a vic- tory of the adverse faction, the expulsion of the rest of the Pythagoreans who remained alive, from their offices, was a natural consequence ; and the political importance of the society was at an end. It was never able to raise its head again. With the political doctrines of the Pythagoreans, we are acquainted only from later writers, who are yet worthy of credit, and of whom accounts and frag- ments have been preserved, especially in the collec- tions of Stobseus. " They regarded anarchy," says Aristoxenus,* " as the greatest evil ; because man cannot exist without social order. They held that every thing depended on the relation between the governing and the governed ; that the former should be not only prudent, but mild ; and that the latter . should not only obey, but love their magistrates ; that it was necessary to grow accustomed even in boyhood to regard order and harmony as beautiful and useful, disorder and confusion as hateful and injurious." From the fragments of the writings of the early Py- thagoreans, as of Archytas, Diotogenes, and Hippo- damus,t we perceive that they were not blindly attached to a single form of government ; but only insisted that there should be no unlawful tyranny. *Stob. Serra. xli. p. 243. This evidence is taken either from Aristoxe- nus, or from Aristotle himself, and therefore, according to Miners, not to be rejected. t Meiners considers all these writings as not genuine. His reasoning however does not apply to the political fragments, which are to be found in cap. xli. and xliii. It is remarkable that he says almost nothing of the polit- ical doctrines of Pythagoras. 292 CH AFTER FOURTEENTH. Where a royal government existed, kings should be subject to the laws, and act only as the chief magis- trates.* They regarded a mixed constitution as the best ; and although they were far from desiring un- limited democracies, they desired quite as little unlimited aristocracies : but even where the adminis- tration resided principally in the hands of the upper class, they reserved a share of it for the people. f Though the political agency of the society termi- nated with its dissolution, the Pythagorean lessons by no means became extinct. They were extended through Greece with the writings of the Pythagoreans, who were paid with high prices ; but in that country they gained political importance, only so far as they contributed to the education of individual distin- guished men. Of these, we need only to mention Epaminondas. In Greece, the sophists are generally considered to have been the first, who applied philosophy to political science, which then became a subject of sci- entific instruction. Yet Plutarch, in a remarkable passage. J speaks of a political school which had been kept up in Athens, from the time of Solon. " The- mistocles/' says he, " could not have been a pupil of Anaxagoras, as some contend. He was a disciple of Mnesiphilus, who \vas neither an orator, nor one of the physical philosophers ; but who was employed on that kind of wisdom, which consists in political skill and practical sagacity, and which from the time of Solon, had been preserved as in a school." That a See in particular the fragments of Arctiytas. Serm. xliv. p. 314. I Compare the fragment of Diotogenes, cap. xlvi. p. 329. tin Themistocles, Op. i. p. 440. The Ionian and Eleatic sages. SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 293 man like Solon should have gathered around himself a circle which he made acquainted with his thoughts and maxims, was not only natural, but was necessary for the preservation of his code of laws ; and it was not less natural that his younger friends should in turn deliver to theirs the principles of that venerable sage. But the words of the biographer himself, show clearly enough, that no methodical instruction was given ; but principles of practical wisdom, consisting in max- ims for the conducting of public affairs, and drawn from experience ; maxims of which the few remaining poetical fragments of the lawgiver contain so valuable a store. From this practical direction, the Grecian philos- ophers after the times of Pythagoras entirely with- drew; and devoted themselves altogether to meta- physical speculations. They were employed in inquiries respecting the elements, and the nature of things ; and came necessarily upon the question, which has so often been repeated, and which never can be answered, respecting the truth or falsehood of the perceptions of our senses. We know with what zeal these inquiries were made in the Eleatic school. They employed in a great measure Xenophanes, Par- menides, Heraclitus, Empedocles, and others. If therefore we read of individuals among these men, that they attained to political eminence,* their phi- losophy was connected with their political station only so far as they thus became conspicuous ; arid because wise men were selected for counsellors. In one point a nearer relation existed between their philosophy and * As Empedocles in Agrigentum ; who is said to have refused the diadem, and confirmed the liberties of the people. Diog. Laurt. viii. ii. 9. 294 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. the state ; we mean in their diminishing or attempt- ing to diminish the respect for the popular religion. In a country where the religion was a poetical one, and where philosophy had become entirely distinct from religion, the spirit of free, unlimited speculation, on its awakening, could not but scrutinize the popular faith, and soon detect its weaknesses. This we hear was done by Xenophanes, who with equal boldness used bitter expressions respecting the Gods and the epic poets who have invented about the gods such indecent fables.* This contradiction between philos- ophy and the popular religion, is on the one side the most certain proof of the independence of the former ; but it was also the point, in which the state and philos- ophy came in contact, not without danger to the state, and if not to philosophy itself, yet to the phi- losophers. Yet however far the speculations of those reason- ers were removed from the state and from politics, the spirit of the times and necessity created many points of contact ; which serve to explain the appearance of the sophists, and the part which they acted. With- out regarding their doctrines, we may find their external character designated by the circumstance, that they were the first who gave instruction for pay. This presupposes that the want of scientific instruc- tion began to be felt ; and this again implies, that independent of such instruction, the nation had made progress in intellectual culture. In other words ; he who desired to become distinguished in the state, felt the necessity of improving his mind by instruction. He was obliged to learn to speak, and therefore to think ; and exercises in these two things constituted *Diog. LafirL ix. ii. 3. SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 295 the whole instruction of the sophists. But it was of great importance, that the minds of men had been employed and continued to be employed so much with those metaphysical questions, which, as they from their very nature can never be answered with certain- ty, are well suited for disputation, and admit so various answers. From the copious inquiries which have been made respecting the sophists by modern writers of the history of philosophy,* and from the preceding remarks, it is sufficiently evident that they were a fruit of the age. It is worthy of remark, that the most celebrated of them came from the most various parts of the Grecian world ; Gorgias, who begins the series from Leontium in Sicily ; Protagoras from Abdera on the coast of Thrace ; Hippias from Colophon in Asia Minor ; not to mention a multitude of those who were less famous. This is a remarkable proof, how generally, since the Persian wars, a literary spirit had begun to animate the nation. Most of *Yet even after all that has here been done by Meiners, Tenneman, and others, many things remain obscure ; for the explanation of which, the foun- dation must be laid in a more accurate chronology of the sophists. Even the sophists before the Macedonian times (of a later period we here make no men- tion) did not continue the same ; and we should do Gorgias and Protagoras great injustice, were we to place them in the same rank with those, against whom the aged Isocrates in his Panathenaicus, Op. p. 236, and De Sophistic, p. 293, makes such bitter complaints. Gorgias, Protagoras, and Hippias, were commonly called the elder sophists ; of whom Gorgias is said to have come to Athens in the year 427 as ambassador, although this is not mentioned by Thucydides. But it is evident from Aristophanes, who brought his Clouds upon the stage, for the first time, 424 years B. C., that at that epoch, tht sophists had already been long established at Athens. It appears that the great celebrity and wealth of the sophists commenced in the times of Gorgi- as and the following. In the Clouds, Socrates and his pupils are represented o far from being rich, as poor wretches, who do not know how they are to subsist from one day to another. 296 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. those men, it is true, removed to Athens ; to which place Gorgias was sent as ambassador during the Peloponnesian war ; because this city, so long as it held the first rank, opened the widest and most profi- table theatre for their exertions ; but they also often travelled through the cities of Greece in the train of their pupils ; met with the kindest reception ; and were employed as counsellors in public affairs, and , not unfrequently as ambassadors. They gave instruc- tion at a high price to all young men who joined them, in every branch of knowledge, deemed essential to their education. This undoubtedly occasione4 that boasting of univeral knowledge, which has been laid to their charge ; but it must also be remembered, that in those days the extent of the sciences was still very limited. The sophists at first embraced in their course of instruction, philosophy as well as rhetoric. But that which they called philosophy, was, as with the scho- lastic philosophers, the art of confounding an opponent by syllogisms and sophisms ; and the subjects about which they were most fond of speculating, were some of those metaphysical questions, respecting which we ought finally to learn, that we never can know any thing. This kind of reasoning, since disputation and speaking were taught, was very closely connected with rhetoric. Subsequently the sophists and rheto- ricians formed distinct classes ; but the different classes, which Isocrates distinguished in his old age,* could hardly have been so decidedly marked in his youth. * Isocrates, Op. p. 393, etc. SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 297 The precepts and the very name of the sophists became odious among the ancients ; and it would be in vain to attempt to free them entirely from the reproaches, which were cast on them by sages and by the comic writers. But yet they cannot be deprived of the glory of having made the higher class of their nation sensible of the necessity of a liberal education. They rose rapidly and extraordinarily, because they were deeply connected with the wants of the times. In states, where every thing was discussed orally, and where every thing was just beginning to bloom, the instructers in logic and rhetoric could not but be acceptable. But in two respects, they soon became injurious and even dangerous to the state ; by reduc- ing eloquence to the mere art of disputing, and by degrading or ridiculing the popular religion. The first seems to have been a very natural conse- quence of the condition of the sciences at that time. The more limited is the knowledge of men, the more bold are they in their assertions ; the less they know, the more they believe they do and can know. Man persuades himself of nothing more readily, than that he has arrived at the bounds of human knowledge. This belief creates in him a dogmatical spirit ; because he believes he can prove every thing. But where it is believed, that every thing can be proved, there natu- rally arises the art of proving the contrary proposi- tion ; and the art of disputing among the sophists degenerated to this. The art of confounding right and wrong, objected to them by the comic poets, may have had a very injurious influence on social life ; but a greater evil resulting from it was the destroying of a nice sense of truth ; for even truth itself becomes 38 298 . CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. contemptible, when it is believed, that it can as well be refuted, as established, by an argument. That the popular religion was held in less esteem, was probably a consequence of the more intimate connexion, which existed between the elder sophists and their predecessors and contemporaries of the Eleatic school. In these accusations injustice has perhaps been done to some of them ; for it may be doubted whether Protagoras deserved the name of atheist ;* yet no circumstance probably contributed so much to make them odious in the eyes of the people. If to these things we add their lax moral principles, which consisted in lessons of prudence, how life could be made easy and be enjoyed, but which doubtless assisted in procuring for them pupils and followers, we can survey all the evil influence which they exercised. And yet these very aberrations of the human understanding may have been necessary, to awaken the minds which were to point out better paths. The son of Sophroniscus is the first among these. He began the opposition to the sophists. Just as Philip called forth a Demosthenes, the sophists produced a Socrates. After all that antiquity has left us con- cerning him, and all the observations of modern his- torians, he is one of the characters most difficult to be understood, and stands by himself, not only in his own nation, but in the whole history of the culture of our race. For what sage, who was neither a public * He had only said he knew not whether the gods existed or not ; yet for this he was banished from Athens, and his writings were burnt. Sext. Emp. ix. 57. That the atheism of Prodicus is uncertain, has been already observed by Tennemann. Gesch. d. Phil. i. S. 377. SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 299 teacher, nor a writer, nor a religious reformer, has had such an influence on his own age and on posterity, as he? We willingly concede, that his sphere of action has far exceeded his own expectations and de- signs. These hardly had reference to posterity. Every thing seems to indicate, that they were calcu- lated for his contemporaries alone. But it may with justice be remarked, that this only increases the difficulty of an explanation. For who will not ask ; How could this man, without intending it, have had an influence on all centuries after his time ? The chief reason is to be found in the nature of his philos- ophy ; yet external causes came to his assistance. After so many have written upon his philosophy, it would be superfluous to delineate it anew. It made its way, because it immediately related to the higher matters of interest to man. While the soph- ists were brooding over mere speculations, and their contests were but contests of words, Socrates taught those who came near him, to look into themselves ; man and his relations with the world were the objects of his investigations. That we may not repeat what has already been so well remarked by others, we will here allow ourselves only some general observations respecting the philosopher himself and his career. His influence was most closely connected with the forms of social life in Athens ; in a country where these are not the same, a second Socrates could never exercise the influence of the first. He gave instruc- tion neither in his house, nor in any fixed place ; the public squares and halls were the favourite scenes of his conversations. For such instruction a proper audience can be found only in a nation, in which 300 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. private life is in a very high degree public in its na- ture. This was the case with the Athenians. Such a method of teaching could be effectual among them, because they were not only accustomed to pass a large portion of the day in places of public resort, but also to speak of almost every subject which could occur. It was here that the sophists passed much of their time, not to give formal instruction, which, as it was paid for, was given in a definite place, but, as Plato reproaches them, in order to gain rich young men as pupils. The war which Socrates had once for all declared against them, made him from choice and most frequently pass his time, where he could expect to find his adversaries, as well as his friends and followers.* The manner in which he taught, was not less important. It was by conversation, not by continued discourse. He had therefore adopted the very man- ner which is most suitable to public places. But in two respects, his conversation, apart from the matter it contained, was distinguished from the common intercourse of life. The one was the irony which he knew how to introduce, especially in his attacks on the sophists; the other and more important, was the conviction which he often expressed, that he spoke from the impulse of divine power. Socrates differs from the whole class of men, whom we embrace under * From this point of resemblance, I think we may explain how Aristoph- anes could confound Socrates with the sophists. He represents him as giv- ing instruction for money, and in a house of his own, appropriated to study (Qftinrrnpi*) -, and these two circumstances are tnie of the sophists, but not of Socrates. I can therefore discover in Aw Socrates nothing but the repre- sentative of the sophists. To be sure the comic poet would have better provided for his reputation with posterity, if he had brought a Prodicus or Gorgias upon the stage instead of Socrates. SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 301 the name of prophets ; for, while these appear as the immediate envoys and messengers of the Divinity, he did but occasionally insinuate his claim to this character, although he never denied it. He neither desired to found a new religion, nor to improve the existing one ; which was necessarily the object of the prophets. The appearance of a Socrates was therefore the noblest result of the separation of philosophy from religion, a merit belonging solely to the Greeks; in no Eastern nation could a Socrates have found his sphere. But he became a martyr to his doctrines. It would be superfluous to prove anew, the groundless- ness of the charges, that he denied the popular reli- gion, and was a corrupter of the youth.* But we will not neglect to observe, that by his death he pro- duced even more important consequences than by his life. If he had been snatched away by sickness, who knows whether he would have been remembered more than other meritorious instructers? His friends and pupils would have spoken of him with respect, but hardly with enthusiasm. But the poisoned cup ensured him immortality. By his death, in connex- ion with his doctrines, he exhibited in reality one of those sublime ideal conceptions, of which the Gre- cian nation alone is so fertile ; he presented what till then had been wanting, the image of a sage who dies for his principles. The philosophy of Socrates had no immediate relations with politics. Its object was man, consider- ed as a moral being, not as a citizen. Hence it was indirectly of the more importance to the state ; since f " * See, beside th works on the history of philosophy, the Essay of Tych- scn, Ueher dnn Process dee Socrates, in Bibl. d. alien Litt. u. Kunst. St. 1. 2. 303 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. it was nothing less than an attempt to meet the ruin, with which the state was threatened by a false kind of philosophy. This object was not fully attained ; but must the blame of it be attributed to Socrates ? From his school, or rather from his circle, a num- ber of distinguished minds were produced, who in part differed from each other in their opinions and systems, as opposite poles. This could not have happened, but because' Socrates had no system, and hence laid no claims on the spirit of inquiry. He would but excite the minds of others ; and hence we perceive how there could have been among his asso- ciates, an Antisthenes, who made self-denial, and an Aristippus, who made enjoyment the basis of ethics ; a Pyrrho, whose object it was to doubt, and a Euclid, who was eager to demonstrate. As the philosphy of these men was in no manner connected with politics, we pass over them ; that we may not leave unmen- tioned the greatest of all the pupils of Socrates. To comprehend the character of Plato, a genius would be required, hardly inferior to his. Common or even uncommon philosophic acumen, industry, and learning in this case are not sufficient. The mind of Plato rose above visible objects, and entered on the higher regions, where exist the eternal first forms of things. To these his eye was undeviatingly directed, as the only regions where knowledge can be found, since there is nothing beyond opinion in the world of the senses, and where real beauty, goodness, and justice dwell eternal and unchangeable as the Divin- ity, and yet distinct from the Divinity. He who cannot follow Plato to those regions, and feel with him in the veil of mythological fables, what he himself felt SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 303 rather than knew ; may make many valuable and cor- rect remarks respecting that philosopher, but is not capable of presenting a perfect and adequate image of him. The attempt to give a body to that which is etherial, is vain ; for it then ceases to be etherial. But the relation in which he stood to his nation can be very distinctly delineated. In him the poetic character of the Greeks expressed itself philosophic- ally. It was only in a nation so thoroughly poetical, that a Plato could be produced. Socrates had contemplated man as a moral being ; Plato's philosophy embraced the social union. Long before him, the state had so far become an object of speculation, that writers had endeavoured to sketch the model of a perfect constitution. No more imme- diate occasion for such exercise could be found than in the Grecian cities, which formed as it were the model of a chart of free states; which. by means of their wants and changes, almost necessarily conducted the reflecting mind to such subjects of thought. The first distinct attempt of this kind, as we expressly learn from Aristotle,* was made by Hippodamus of Miletus, who must have been a contemporary of Themistocles.f The marked separation of the three classes of artists, agriculturalists, and soldiers ; and the division which he makes of land into sacred, pub- lic, and private land, remind us of the Egyptian institutions. * Not only his plan, but that of Phaneas of Chalcedon, is discussed at large by Aristotle. Investigations of constitutions and codes of laws now *Aristot.Polit. ii. cap. 8. t According to Aristotle, he was employed in the construction of the Piraeus, which was the work of Themistocles. 304 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. became subjects frequently treated of; they could hardly have much practical influence, since the days were past in which new lawgivers could have appear- ed in Greece. Of many works composed in those times, none have come down to us but the two treati- ses of Plato. These, especially that of the republic, are intelligible only to those who comprehend and bear always in mind, that the Greeks regarded a state as a moral person, which governs itself, and cannot be swayed by any impulse from a higher power,* nor be governed by another. Then it is no longer difficult to explain the close and indissoluble union between morals and politics, a union which modern writers have so frequently called in question. During the days of the freedom of Greece, almost every grand question connected with theoretical or practical philosophy, was made the object of inquiry and discussion. The later writers may perhaps have answered them differently and with greater acuteness : but to these earliest belongs the great merit of having presented to the reflecting mind, the objects after which they should strive. The relations of the later systems of Grecian philosophy to the earlier ones, show how far the Stoic system was allied to the Cynic, the Epicu- rean to the Cyrenaic, that of the later sceptics to that of Pyrrho and the Eleatic school, these subjects we leave to be explained by some writer, who is capa- ble of giving, not a voluminous, but succinct and spir- ited account of the efforts made among the Greeks by the understanding, as employed on subjects of phi- losophy. * We would here especially refer to the following excellent treastise. J. L. G. de Geer. Diatribe in Politices Platonics Principle. Trajecti ad Rhe- nutn, 1810. SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 305 If the relation of philosophy to the political insti- tutions must be estimated by its reaction on them, the reverse is in some measure true of the science of history. This stands in connexion with the state, in as much as it is the result of the changes and destinies of the state. It is true, that history was not long limited among the Greeks to their own nation. As there was free intercourse with foreigners, accounts and traditions respecting their origin, manners, and revo- lutions became common. But every thing proceeded from the history of their native country ; this always remained the central point. And here again we per- ceive the just views of the Greeks. Is not each nation the nearest object to itself? And next to the present moment, what can interest it more than its own pre- vious condition ? This was early and very generally felt ; and if historical accounts have been preserved but scantily or not at all, the fault is to be attributed, not to the want of exertions to ensure that end, but to the im- perfection of the means which the nations could con- trol ; that is, not merely to the want of an alphabet, but of the materials which are used in writing. Per- sepolis, Thebes, Mexico, do not all these furnish distinct proofs of the truth of our remark ? But not less depended on the circumstance, wheth- er any persons, a peculiar class or cast in the nation, were commissioned to record the events as they pass- ed. Where a priesthood existed, the preparing of the calendar, however imperfect or perfect it might be, was their business ; and to this it was easy to add the writing of annals. 39 306 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. The Greeks had no such separate order of priests ; and hence we hear nothing of any annals which they possessed.* Yet religion still did something for history. A multitude of relations, preserving the memory of early events, were associated with the con- secrated offerings in the temples. How often are these referred to by Herodotus? and the historical remarks of Pausanias are almost always made in con- nexion with them. But they could neither fix a succession of time, nor do more than confirm single facts. The history, therefore, of the Greeks emanated from an entirely different source, from tradition ; and since this supplied poetry with its subjects, the poets remained for centuries the sole preservers of traditional accounts. But it does not follow, that Grecian history was an invention, because it was originally poetical. Indeed it never entirely lost that character. The subjects of history, as presented by tradition, were only interwoven with fictions. But it is obvious of itself, that the character of the Grecian traditions must have had a great or even a decisive influence on the character of their history. By means of the original and continued division of the nation into many tribes, the traditions were very much enriched. Each tribe had its heroes and its deeds of valour to employ the bard. To convince ourselves of this, we need but cast a glance on the tales of the Grecian heroes. Individuals among them who were more distinguished than the rest, as Hercu- * Where a sort of hereditary priesthood existed, as in Sicyon, from the earliest times, a sort of annals was connected with it. They seem, however, to have consisted chiefly in an enumeration of the succession of priests, and therefore hardly deserve the name. SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 307 les and Jason, became the heroes of the nation, and therefore the favourites of the poets. And after the first great national enterprise, after Troy had fallen, need we be astonished that the historic muse prefer- red this to all other subjects ? All this is too well known to need any more copi- ous exposition.* But much as Homer and the cyclic poets eclipsed the succeeding ones, historic poetry kept pace with the political culture of the nation. This union we must not leave unobserved. That advancement in political culture was, as,we observed above, connected with the rising prosperity of the cities in Greece and of the colonies. The founding of cities therefore formed an essential part of the earlier history. But cities were founded by heroes; and the traditions respecting these things were therefore intimately connected with the rest. Who does not see, how wide a field was here opened for historic poetry? Such narrations had always a lasting interest for the inhabitants ; they were by their very nature, of a kind to be exaggerated till they became marvellous ; and were connected with accounts of the most ancient voyages ; stories of the wonders of foreign and distant countries ; the island of the Cyclops, the garden of the Hesperides, the rich Iberia, and others. What could afford more agreea- ble nourishment to the imagination of a youthful people ? What could be more attractive to the poets ? Hence there arose among the Greeks a particular class of historic poems, which is known by the name * See Heyne. Historiae scribendae inter Grsecos primordia. Comment. Soc. Sc. Getting, vol. xiv. 308 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. of xrifcis, or poems commemorative of the founding of the several cities ; but which both in subject and form were in the closest union and alliance with the others. It embraced, it is true, the cities of the mother coun- try ; but chiefly the colonies ; and was doubtless later than the Homeric age. History continued to be treated in a poetical manner, till near the time of the Persian wars. How deeply, therefore, must the poetic character have been imprinted upon Grecian history ? Experience has taught that it was indelibly so. When the first writers appeared who made use of prose, this char- acter was changed only with respect to the form, but by no means to the matter. They related in prose what the poets had told in verse. This is expressly stated by Strabo.* " The earliest writers," says he, " Cadmus of Miletus, Pherecydes, Hecatseus, preserv- ed the poetic character, though not the measure of verse. Those who came after them, were the first to descend from that height to the present style of writ- ing.'"' The opinion of Cicero seems therefore to have been ill founded, when he compares the oldest histo- rians, and particularly Pherecydes with the earliest annalists of the Romans, Fabius Pictor and Cato,f whose style was certainly not poetical. The larger number and the earliest of the narra- tors of traditions,! as Herodotus styles them in dis- tinction from the epic poets, were lonians. Epic poetry was followed by narrations in prose, in the very countries where it had been cultivated most Strabo, i. p. 12. Casaub. t Cicero de Oratore, ii. 12. J The Ayyff, as Hecataeus and other?. SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 309 successfully. History has left us in uncertainty respecting the more immediate causes of this change ; but has not the East always been the land of fables? Here, where the crowd of colonial cities was spring- ing up, which were founded toward the end of the heroic age, that class of narrations which relate to these subjects, found the most appropriate themes. In explaining therefore the origin of historic science among the Greeks, it may perhaps be proper to re- member, that they participated in the character of the oriental nations ; although they merit the glory of having subsequently'given to that science its true and peculiar character. But in the period in which the prose style of narration was thus forming, the improvement of his- toric science appears to have been promoted by sev- eral very natural causes. The larger number and the most celebrated of those mythological historians lived and flourished in the latter half of the sixth cen- tury before the Christian era ; that is, not long before the commencement of the Persian wars.* Of these the earliest are said to have been Cadmus of Miletus, and Hecataeus of the same place, Acusilaus of Argos, Pherecydes of Syros, Charon of Lampsacus, and sever- al others whom Dionysius of Halicarnassus enume- rates. They belong to the age in which the nation was rising in youthful energy ; when it was already extended to the west and the east, and its flourishing cities were engaged in various commerce ; when it had become acquainted with many nations, and trav- elling had begun to be common. From the title of the works of these narrators of traditions, it is evident * Between tlie 60th and 70th Olympiad, or 540500 years B. C. 310 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. that they were not concerned to limit themselves to the accounts, which they found in the ancient epic poets ; but that they took a wider range, embracing the history of cities and nations, and also the descrip- tion of the coasts of the countries. A proof of this is found in the catalogue of the writings of Hellanicus the Lesbian, one of the latest of them.* These remarks, when considered in connexion, will serve to show us the character of history before Herodotus. It was in its origin entirely Grecian ; and even when the sphere of observation was extend- ed to foreign countries, kepf pace with the political advancement of the nation. It preserved its poetical character, and therefore did not become critical ; but it was developed with perfect freedom ; and was never held by the priests in bondage to religion. As poetry had for a long time been the means of its preserva- tion, it became in some measure the play of fancy, (although epic poetry was much more restricted than the subsequent lyric and tragic) ; but in return, as it was propagated by no hieroglyphics, it could never, as in Egypt, degenerate into mere symbolical narration. When it came to be transferred from poetry to prose, it was necessarily connected with the improvements in the art of writing ; and the deficiency of our accounts respecting this pointf is one of the chief reasons why we are so little able to mark the progress of its particular branches. But * See Creuzer : The Historic Art among the Greeks in its Origin and Prog- ress. Die historische Kunst der Griechen in ihrer Entstehung und-Fortbil dung, S. 80. In this excellent work, the inquiry respecting the Xeysyjaf < is conducted with such care, that I think it sufficient to refer to it. t Modern scholars, by their investigations, have^nade this deficiency very apparent. See Wolfii Prolegom. p. xl. etc. SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 311 whatever influence these causes may have exercised ; the great reason which retarded historic science before Herodotus, lay in the want of subjects. Before the Persian wars, there was no subject capa- ble of inspiring the historian. The Trojan war, the Ar- gonautic expedition, all great undertakings, belonged to tradition, and hence belonged more than half to poe- try. The narrations of the origin of the individual cities, accounts of distant nations and countries, might gratify curiosity, might afford amusement ; but nothing more. There existed no great national subject of universal interest. At length came the Persian wars. The victory at Marathon first awakened the spirit of valour; whether this was more inflamed by the defeat at Thermopylae, or the victory at Salamis, it is difficult to say ; with the battle of Platsese, freedom was saved. What a subject for the historic Muse! This subject, from its very nature, belonged ex- clusively to history ; and poetry had no share in it. It was no subject of hoary antiquity, nor yet of the present moment ; but of a period which had but recently passed away. And yet it came so variously in contact with tradition, that a historian in a critical age would often have been compelled to take his walks into the regions of mythology. How much more, then, at a time, when the bounds between history and tra- dition had not yet been in the slightest degree mark- ed out. Herodotus employed himself on this subject, and managed it in a manner which surpassed all expecta- tion. Many things, it is true, served to facilitate his labour. Many attempts had been made to explain 312 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. the earliest history of cities and nations ; travelling had been rendered easy by the extensive commerce of the Grecian cities, and several of his predecessors are known to have visited many countries ;* the my- thological writers (^oyo-ygatpoi) had already formed the language for prosaic narration ; and the nation for which he wrote, was already awake to the beau- ties of historic composition. Yet he was the first who undertook to treat of u purely historical subject : and thus to take the decisive step, which gave to history its rank as an independent science. Yet he did not limit himself to his chief subject, but gave it such an extent, that his work, notwithstanding its epic unity, became in a certain sense a universal history. f Con- tinuing the thread of his story from the times when controversies first arose between the Hellenes and the barbarians, till those when at Platseae the war was terminated so gloriously for the Greeks, Hellas, attacked but liberated, became the great subject of his narration ; opportunities were constantly pre- senting themselves or were introduced, of interweav- ing the description and history of the countries and nations, which required to be mentioned ; without ever losing sight of his chief object, to which -he re- turns from every episode. He had himself visited the greater part of these countries and nations ; had seen them with his own eyes ; had collected informa- tion from the most credible sources. But when he enters upon the antiquities of the nations, especially of his own, he makes use of the means afforded him by his age; and here his work borders on those of the * As Hecatzeus and Pherecydes. t Only the history of the Assyrians he reserved for a separate work ; i. 184. SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 313 earlier historians (the hoyoygoLcpoC). It is no longer necessary to appear as his defender ; posterity has not continued unjust towards him. No writer has received more frequent confirmation by the advances which, within the last thirty years, have been made in the knowledge of nations and countries, than Herodo- tus, who was formerly so often the object of ridi- cule. But our sole purpose was to show in what manner the science of history had been elevated by his choice of a subject ; and how this choice was intimately connected with the impulse given to the political character of his nation. The first great step had thus been taken. A purely historical subject, relating to the past, but to no distant period, and no longer belonging to tradition, had been treated by a master, who had devoted the largest part of his life to a plan, framed with deliber- ation and executed with enthusiasm. The nation possessed an historical work, which first showed what history is ; and which was particularly well fitted to awaken a taste for it. As Herodotus read his work to all Greece assembled at Olympia, a youth, according to the tradition, was incited by it to be- come, not his imitator, but his successor. Thucydides appeared. His predecessor had writ- ten a history of the past. He became the historian of his own time. He was the first who seized on this idea, on which the whole character of his work de- pends ; though others, especially the ancient cities, looked for it in his style, his eloquence, and other secondary matters. By this means he advanced the the science of history in a higher degree than he 40 314 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. himself was aware of. His subject made him neces- sarily a critic. The storm of the Persian wars had been terrific, but transitory. During its continuance, no histo- rian could appear. It was not till after its fury had for some time abated, and men had regained their composure of mind, that Herodotus could find a place. Amidst the splendor of the victories which had been gained, under the shade of security won by valour, with what emotions did the Greek look back upon thosfe years ? Who could be more welcome to him than the historian, who painted for him this picture of his own glory, not only as a whole, but in its parts ! The age of Thucydides, on the contrary, was full of grandeur, but of difficulties. In the long and obstinate war with one another, the Grecian states sought to overturn each other from their very foundations. It was not the age of wars only, but of revolutions with all their horrors. Whether a man were an aristocrat or democrat, a friend of Athens or of Sparta, was the question on which depended fortune, liberty, and life. A beneficent reverse rescued Thucydides from the whrilpool ; and gave him that immortality, which the capture of Am- phipolis never could have conferred on him.* The fruit of his leisure was the history of his age ; a work he himself proposed to write, and actually wrote, for eternity, t + After Amphipolis had been taken by Brasidas, Thucydides was accused of having come too late to the assistance of that city, and was banished by the Athenian people ; he actually passed 20 years in exile in Thrace, where he possessed valuable mines. Let Thucydides himself be heard on this sub- ject, iv. 104, and v. 26. T^* .',- it}' Thucyd. i. 22. SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 315 This is not the place to eulogize the man, who remained calm amidst all the turbulence of the pas- sions, the only exile that has written an impartial history. His acquaintance with states and business, his deep political acuteness, his nervous style, though occasionally uncouth, have all been illustrated by others. We will only allow ourselves to show, by a few remarks, how much historic science was advanced by the nature of his subject. The undertaking of the man who was the first to form the idea of writing the history of his own times, and of events in which he himself had a share, must not be compared with that of the modern writer, who compiles it from many written documents. He was compelled to investigate every thing by personal in- quiry ; and that, too, in a period when every thing was misrepresented by passion and party spirit. But antiquity had not inwrapped his subject in the veil of tradition, nor had it in its nature any epic interest. The subject was thoroughly prosaic ; setting before the writer no other aim, than that of exhibiting the truth. In this lay the sole interest ; and to ascertain and repeat the truth, is all which we can fairly demand of the historian. We honour and respect him, because, penetrated with the consciousness of his dignity, he never for a moment becomes untrue to it. A sentiment of reverence accompanies us from the first to the last leaf of his work. Not the historian, History herself seems to address us. But to what new views must he have been led, when with the desire of arriving at truth, he turned his eyes to the form under which history had thus far appeared ? It was his immediate aim to relate the 316 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. events of his own times ; but the preceding age could not remain wholly excluded from the sphere of his observation. It appeared to him clothed in the man- tle of tradition ; and he who scrutinized every thing with care, was not caught by its delusive splendor. He endeavoured to contemplate antiquity? as it was, to take from it this false glare, leaving nothing but the light of truth; and thus was produced that invaluable introduction which precedes his work. By such means Thucydides was the inventor of an art, which before him had been almost unknown, the art of historic criticism ; without being conscious of the infinite value of his invention. For he did not apply it to all branches of knowledge, but only to his subject, because it was a natural consequence of that subject. The historic Muse had made him acquaint- ed with her most secret nature ; no one before or after him has drawn the line more clearly between history and tradition. And what is this, but to draw the distinction between the historic culture of the East and West ? and if we recognise how much depended on this historic culture between the whole scien- tific culture of the East and West ? For to repeat a remark, which has already been cursorily made, the great difference between the two, consists in this ; in the West, the free spirit of criticism was developed, and in the East never. It is therefore just to say, that Thucydides advan- ced with a giant's step. It is just to say, that he rose above his age ; neither his own nor the following could reach him. Poetic tradition was too deeply inter- woven with Grecian history, to admit of an entire separation. A Theopompus and Ephorus, whenever SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 317 the heroic age was to be discussed, drew their ma- terials with as little concern from the writers of my- thological fables and the poets, as if Thucydides never had written. A third step yet remained to be taken ; and it was in some respects the most dangerous of all ; to become the historian of one's own exploits. This step was taken by Xenophon. For when we speak of his historic writings, his Anabasis so far surpasses the rest, that it alone deserves to be mentioned. But this new step may with propriety be called one of the most important. Would that he who ventured to take it, had found many successors ! By the mild- ness and modesty of his personal character, Xeno- phon was secured from the faults, into which men are so apt to fall, when they describe their own actions ; although these virtues and the nature of his subject could not give his work those superior qualities, which the genius of Caesar knew how to impart to his commentaries. Thus in the period of their freedom, all the prin- cipal kinds of history were developed among the Greeks. What was done afterwards, can hardly be called progress, although the subjects of history grew more various and more extensive with the enlarged sphere of politics in the Macedonian and Roman age ; and the idea of a universal history was more distinctly entertained. But after the downfall of liberty, when rhetoric became prevalent and was applied to history, the higher kind of criticism ceased to be employed in it. The style, the manner in which a subject was treated, was regarded ; not the 318 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. subject itself. The essence was forgotten in disputes about the form. We have abundant proofs of this in the judgments of Dionysius of Halicarnassus, who has nevertheless been usually mentioned as the first of these critics. POETRY IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 319 CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. POETRY AND THE ARTS IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. WHETHER in our inquiries on the political insti- tutions of Greece, their poetry and arts must be con- sidered, will hardly be made a question by any of my readers. Almost every one of the preceding chapters has served to show how closely they were connected with the state. Yet our remarks must be limited to the question : What was the nature, and what were the consequences of this connexion ? But even in answering this we might be carried very far, if we were to pass the bounds which the character of this work prescribes. In speaking of poetry, we would principally consider the dramatic ; since we have already spoken of the epic. But the drama can hardly be discussed, separate from lyric poetry. We place the arts in immediate connexion with poetry, because nature herself had united them among the Greeks ; among whom the arts are as it were the key to poetry. The remark of a modern critic* is perfectly true, that the masterpieces of the plastic art furnish the best commentary on the tragedians. Al- though it is not always the same persons whom the poets and the sculptors bring before us, we yet form from them our conceptions of the ideal forms. He who has * A. W. Schlegel, Uber dramatische Kunst und Litteratur, Th. i. S. 67. A. W. Schlegel, on Dramatic Literature. 320 CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. seen the sublime figures of Niobe and of Laocoon, can easily represent to his mind an Electra or an (Edi- pus in the forms under which they floated in the mind of the poet. With the advancing culture of Greece, the con- nexion between poetry and arts, and the state, proportionably increased ; and was therefore most intimate in its most flourishing age. Even the ear- liest lawgivers of the Greeks regarded poetry as the chief means of forming the character of youth ; and and even of exercising an influence on their riper years. But in an age when there was as yet no lite- rature, poetry could not be separate from song ; and was commonly accompanied with an instrument. Hence came the meaning of the word music, which embraced all this together. Yet this is chiefly true of lyric poetry, which, as the immediate express- ion of the feelings of the poet, was much more inti- mately connected with song than the epic. If we do but bear constantly in mind the leading idea which the Greek had framed of a state, as a moral person which was to govern itself, we can comprehend the whole importance, which music, in the wider sense of the word, possessed in the eyes of the Grecian lawgivers. It seemed to them in that age, when there was as yet no philosophic culture, when the feelings and the management of the feelings were of the great- est moment, the best means of influencing them ; and we need not be astonished, when we read in Plutarch* and other writers, of the great severity with which the laws, especially in Sparta, insisted on the preserva- tion of the ancient music, and the established tunes. *In his Essay De Music*. Op. H. p. 1131, POETUY IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 321 It may be difficult in our days, when music is no longer considered the lever of national force,* to form any distinct idea of those institutions of the ancients. But as human nature is never untrue to itself, institu- tions which are founded on it, are always preserved to a certain extent and under certain forms. In the nineteenth century, in which there is no longer any danger of corrupting a nation by changes in music (although it would be very presumptuous to give a hasty opinion on its influence and effects), no regi- ment is raised without its band ; and the commander, who instead of a warlike march should order a dirge to be played, would justly incur the same reproaches with him who in ancient days made an unseasonable use of the Lydian instead of the Dorian measure. Lyric poetry was moreover intimately connect- ed with the popular religion ; or was in fact a re- sult of it ; for hymns in praise of the gods are men- tioned as its first fruits. f It was therefore important to the state as a support of the popular religion ; particularly by contributing to the splendor of the festivals. For when was a festival celebrated by the Greeks, and the songs of the poets not heard ? But they received their greatest importance from the institution of choral songs. These choruses, evea independent of the drama, were the chief ornament of the festivals ; and were composed of persons of various ages. There were those of youths, of "That in his times, when music was used only in the theatres, it had lost its ancient application, is the complaint of Plutarch, ii. 1140. t " Music," says Plutarch, ii. p. 1140, " was first made use of in the tem- ples and sacred places in praise of the gods, and for the instruction of youth, long before it was introduced into the theatres, which at that time were not in existence. 41 322 CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. men, and of the aged ; which responded to each other alternately in song.* As the festivals were a public concern, so too were the choruses ; and we have no cause to be astonished, that the preparation of them formed a part of the civil burdens. The choral song at the festivals was as ancient as the heroic age, or at least as the times of Homer.f Although it was capable of receiving great ornaments and did actually receive them, it did not necessarily require any great preparations. The similar specta- cles which modern travellers have witnessed in the islands of the South sea, especially the Society Is- lands, carry us back to the earlier world of Greece. The drama was the result of those choruses ; but from its nature it could only be a later fruit of the poetic spirit of the nation. The drama interests us here only in its connexion with the state. But this inquiry goes very deeply into its nature. A question arises of a twofold char- acter : What did the state do for the drama, and in what respects was the drama, by its nature and organ- ization, connected with and of importance to the state ? Dramatic poetry, whose object is to give a distinct and lively representation of an action, always requires decorations, however splendid or paltry they may be ; and an assembly, before which the representation may be made. Dramatic poetry "is therefore essen- tially more public than that of any other description. Of all kinds of verse, this concerns the state the most *See in particular the whole oration of Demosthenes against Midias, who bad abused Demosthenes as choragus, or leader of the chorus. t See the Hymn, in Apoll. v. 147, &c. respecting the choruses at the Io- nian festivals in Delos. POETRY IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 323 nearly. Among the Greeks we may add, that it was an affair of religion, and therefore an essential part of their festivals. But these festivals were entirely an affair of the state ; they belonged, as has been observ- ed above, to the most urgent political wants. Here then we find a reason why the state should not only have so much encouraged dramatic exhibitions, but have even considered them no less essential than the popular assemblies and popular tribunals. A Grecian state could not exist without festivals, nor festivals without choruses and plays. In what manner the state encouraged the drama, we know only with respect to Athens. But that the other Grecian cities in the mother country, and also in the colonies, had their theatres no less than Athens, is apparent from the remains of them, which are almost always to be found wherever there are traces of a Grecian city. The theatres were built and deco- rated at the public expense ; we find in Grecian cities no instance, as far as my knowledge extends, where private persons erected them, as was usual in Rome. Their structure was always the same, such as may still be seen in Herculaneum ; and we must therefore infer, that all the external means of representation remained the same ; although the wealth and taste of individual cities introduced higher degrees of splen- dor ; which in our times we may observe in our larger cities, compared with the smaller or provincial towns. But from the remains of the Grecian theatres, the size and extent of these buildings are apparent, and their great dissimilarity in this respect to modern ones. If they had not been regarded as a real want, and if the emulation of the cities had not also exerted its 324 CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. influence, we might doubt' whether sufficient means could have been found for erecting them. The bringing forward of the single plays belonged to the civil burdens (AftTot/ppaeu), which the opulent were obliged to bear in rotation, or which they voluntarily assumed. We can hardly doubt, that these regulations in other cities resembled those in Athens, though on this subject we have no distinct testimony. Thus the state threw these expenses in part upon private persons; but the matter was not the less a public concern, for this expense was consid- ered as a contribution due to the state. But another regulation may astonish us still more than this ; the regulation by which money was granted from the public treasury to the poorer citizens, that they might be able to visit the theatres. This was the case in Athens, though not till the times in which the state began to sink under the moral corruption of its citizens. The desire of pleasure may in such periods degenerate into a sort of phrenzy ; and the preservation of tran- quillity may demand sacrifices, which are reluctantly made even by those who consent. Though the oldest dramatic essays among the Greeks may be of a more remote age, there is no doubt that J&s- chylus was the father, not only of the finished drama, but also of the Grecian stage. It was not, therefore, till after the victories over the Persians (he himself fought in the battle of Salamis) that a theatre of stone was erected in Athens ;* and all that concerns the drama began to be developed in that city. The contests of the poets, which were introduced there at the festi- * The occasion is related by Suidas in Ufr!,ct;. At the representation of a play of jEschylus, the wooden scaffold, on which the spectators stood, gave way. POETRY IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 325 vals of Bacchus, and which, though they cost the state only a crown, rewarded the poet more than gold could have done, contributed much to excite emula- tion. It was about this time that Athens began to be the seat of literature, and in the scale of political importance, the first state in Greece. Hence we can explain the remarkable fact, that the dramatic art seemed in that city as at home. Athens directed the taste of the other cities ; and without being the cap- ital in the same degree as Paris and London, her great superiority in intellectual culture secured to her that supremacy, which was the more glorious, as it rested not on violence, but on the voluntary concession of her preeminence. I am acquainted with no investigation on the question, in what manner, after the erection of a stage at Athens, theatrical amusements were extended throughout the other Grecian cities. The ruins which remain in them, leave it still uncertain, when they were built; and where can we find dates to settle this point? But so many vestiges make it highly probable, that the drama was introduced into the other cities before the Macedonian age. Neither tragic nor comic poets were at home in Athens exclu- sively ; but started up in the most various regions of the Grecian world.* Athenian poets were invited to resort to the courts of foreign princes.f A king of Syracuse was himself a tragic poet.! I* 1 the same * Abundant proof may be found in Fabricii Bibl. Gr. T. i. in the Catalog. Tragicorum and Comicorum deperditorum. t Euripides was invited to repair to the court of Archelaus, king of Mace- donia. t Dionysius the elder. A fragment of his has been preserved in Stob. Eclog. i. iv. 19. 326 CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. city, Athenian captives regained their liberty by fragments from the tragedies of Euripides. The inhabitants of Abdera, when their fellow-citizen Ar- chelaus played the part of Andromeda, were seized with a theatric passion bordering on madness.* Oth- er proofs, if necessary, might be found. It may seem doubtful, whether the same may be said of the comic drama ; which in Athens was of so local a character, that it could hardly have been understood in the other cities ; or at least much of its wit must have been lost. But is it safe from the few remain- ing pieces of a single comic poet to judge of the hun- dreds produced by a multitude of others, and no longer extant ? To answer the other question : In what relation the theatre among the Greeks, from its very nature, stood to the state, we must distinguish its two chief divisions. Before the Macedonian age, while come- dy was still permitted to preserve its republican char- acter,! tragedy and comedy, as there were no inter- mediate kinds.J remained as different from each other, as seriousness and mirth. They had no points of contact. Tragedy, introducing upon the stage the heroes of Greece, was the representation of great events of the elder days, according to the ideal conceptions of the Greeks ;^ comedy, on the contrary, was the par- *Lncian. de conscrib. histor. Op. iv. p. 159, Bip. t The old comedy, as it was called. \ The satyric drama, as it was called, was not an intermediate class, but a corruption of tragedy. Two plays, the Persians of /Eschylus, and the Destruction of Miletus of Fhrynichus formed exceptions. But they had no imitators ; and the last mentioned poet was even punished for it by the Athenians. Herod, vi. POETRY IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 327 ody of the present ; as we shall hereafter illustrate more fully. In these explanations, the whole differ- ence of the two has been expressed. Tragedy was in certain respects a result of epic poetry. For this had always preserved the recollec- tion of the heroic age ; without which the tragic poets would have had to contend with no less difficulties, than the moderns, when they have borrowed subjects from the fables of the North. It was only necessary to mention the name of the chief person, and the whole story of his adventures was recalled to every mind. Hence the artificial weaving of a plot, was only so far a duty of the poet, as the nature of the drama re- quires ; grandeur and liveliness of manner were on the contrary far more in the spirit of the heroic world. Not the event, but the character of the action, was important. Whether the issue was fortunate or un- fortunate, was a matter of indifference ; but it was necessary that the action should be in itself sublime ; should be the result of the play of the passions ; and should never depart from the gravity, which is as it were the colouring of the world of heroes. In this consists the tragic part of the drama. But though the final event was in itself indifferent, it was natural for the poets to prefer subjects, in which it was un- fortunate for the chief personages. In such the tragic 21. Here too we observe the correct judgment of the nation, which desired, in the tragic drama, an excitement of the passions ; but purely of the pas- sions, without any personal allusions. This was possible only in subjects taken from early times. But still a certain regard for historic truth, as contained in the traditions, was required by the Grecian taste. Subjects al- together fictitious were unknown. The consequences of this deserve to be illustrated at large. If the tragic drama was thus limited to the traditions respecting the heroes, it at the same time obtained a certain solemn support which gave it dignity. 328 CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. interest was the greatest ; the catastrophe the most tremendous ; the effect least uncertain. A tragic issue suited best the whole character of the kind of poetry. The tragic drama could have but few points of relation with the state. The political world which was here exhibited, was entirely different from the actual one of the times ; the forms of monarchy alone were introduced on the stage. The same remark, therefore, which has been made respecting the epic,* is true also of the tragic poetry of the Greeks. The violent commotions in the ancient royal families and their extinction, were not represented to make them objects of contempt or hatred, and to quicken the spirit of republicanism ; but solely because no other actions equally possessed the sublimity of the tragic character. But the moral effects which were produc- ed by these representations, may have been political- ly important. Whilst the Grecian continued to live in the heroic world, that elevation of mind could not so well disappear, which is seen so frequently in the acts of the nation. If Homer and the epic poets first raised its spirit to the sublimity belong- ing to it, the tragic poets did much to preserve that elevated tone. And if this elevated spirit form- ed the strength of the state, they have as strong a claim to immortality, as the military commanders and the leaders of the people. Comedy was more closely allied to the state ; as we may presuppose from the circumstance, that it had relation to the present and not to the past. We have * See above, p. 122. POETRY IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 329 explained it above to be the parody of the present ;* that is of the contemporary public condition, in the sense in which the Greeks understand this expression. Private life, as such, was never the subject of comedy, except so far as it was connected with the public. But these points of contact were so many and so vari- ous, that the comic poet could not but frequently present views of private life. The relation of come- dy was therefore altogether political, so far as we comprehend every thing public under this word. But the scenes which were exhibited, were not represent- ed with fidelity, but were caricatured. This seems to have been agreed upon by a silent convention ; and therefore such representations could not injure those against whom they were directed, much more than the caricature prints of our times. We would not be understood to justify unconditionally the incredible impudence of the Grecian comic poets, in whose eyes neither men, nor morals, nor the gods were sacred. But a public tribunal of character is an actual necessi- ty, where a popular government exists ; and in those times what other such tribunal could have existed than the theatre ? Whatever excited public atten- tion, whether in persons or in things, it might be expected, would be brought upon the stage. The most powerful demagogue, in the height of his power, * A. W. Schlegel, in his work on Dramatic Literature and Art, i. p. 271, con- siders the characteristic of comedy to have been, that it was a parody of tragedy. It certainly was so very frequently, and thus far his remark is correct. Tragedy was a part of the public life ; the parody of tragedy was therefore a fit subject for the comic stage ; and the relation between the tragic and comic poets was such, that the latter were naturally fond of ridi- culing the former. The readers of Aristophanes know this. Yet we must be very careful how we confine the range of comedy to this. 42 330 CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. did not escape this fate ; nay, the people of Athens itself had the satisfaction of seeing itself personified, and brought upon the stage, where it could laugh at itself, till it was satisfied with mirth ;* and cro\vned the poet for having done it. What is our freedom of the press, our licentiousness of the press compared with this dramatic freedom and licentious- ness? But though the ridicule of the comic poets could not much injure the indixidual against whom it chanced to be directed, the question is still by no means answered, What consequences had the comic drama for the state, and for morals, which with the Greeks were inseparably connected with state? Those judgments passed on public characters may have had some influence, but not a great deal ; unless perhaps to make men more cautious ; and this was no small consideration. When we see that Pericles, notwith- standing all the attacks of the comic poets,f was not to be deposed, and that even Cleon, when he had been made a public jest in the person of the Paphlagonian, lost nothing of his influence, we cannot make a very high estimate of that advantage. So far as morals are concerned, it is true, that the ideas of propriety are conventional ; and that it would be wrong to infer from a violation of them in language, a corresponding violation in action. The inhabitant of the North, who has not grown accustomed to the much greater license given to the tongue by the southern nations, may here easily be mistaken. The jokes of Harlequin, especially in his extemporaneous performances, are * As in the Knights of Aristophanes. t Specimens of them may be seen in Plutarch. Op. i. p. 620. POETRY IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 331 often hardly less indecent than those of Aristophanes ; and the southern countries are not on that account on the whole more corrupt than the northern, although some offences are more common in the former. But the incredible levity, with which the rules of modesty were transgressed, could not remain without conse- quences. Another important point is the influence of comedy on the religion of the people. The comic poets were careful never to appear as atheists ; that would have led to exile ; they rather defended the popular religion. But the manner in which this was done, was often worse than a direct attack. Who could appear with reverent devotion at the altar of Jove, after growing weary with laughing at him in the Clouds, or after having seen him pay court to earthly beauties. Even on the minds of the most frivolous nation in the world, indelible impressions must have been made. The ancient comedy has commonly been called a political farce ; and the expression is just, if we inter- pret the word political in the wide sense in which we have explained it. It is sufficiently known, that, after the downfall of the popular rule, there was no longer any field for this ancient comedy, that it lost its sting in the middle comedy as it is termed, and that the new was of an entirely different character.* As this new kind lost its local character with the personal allusions, the old obstacles to its diffusion throughout the Grecian world no longer existed. And though we may doubt whether the plays of Cratinus and Aristophanes were ever acted out of *The difference of these kinds is best explained in the excellent vrorl$ of l, i. p. 326. 332 CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. Athens, no question can certainly be raised with respect to those of Menander and Diphilus. But as this new species of theatrical composition was not introduced and perfected till the Macedonian age, the subject does not fall within the sphere of our observations. With our notions we should think the connexion of the arts with politics much less than that of the theatre; and yet it was among the Greeks even closer and more various. The encouragement of the arts is in our times left chiefly to private taste ; and is greater or smaller according to the number of amateurs. The state takes an interest in them only to prevent their total decay, or for the sake of some particular design. The case was entirely different in the period when they flourished among the Greeks. The arts with them were exclusively public, and not at all an affair of individuals. They afterwards became so to a certain extent ; but yet never in the same degree as with us ; nor even as with the Romans. These po- sitions require to be further developed and more accurately proved. By the arts we mean the three great branches of them, architecture, sculpture, and painting. On each of these we have some remarks to offer. Architecture is distinguished from the two others by the circumstance, that its object is use no less than beauty. Not only the moderns, but the Romans of the later ages, endeavoured to unite them both ; and in this manner private buildings became objects of the art. Among the Greeks, a tendency to this seems to have existed in the heroic age. In a former chap- ter, we remarked that in the dwellings and halls of THE ARTS IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 333 the kings, there prevailed a certain grandeur and splendor, which, however, we shall hardly be willing to designate by the name of scientific architecture. When the monarchical forms disappeared, and living in cities, and with it republican equality, gained ground, those differences in the dwellings disappeared of themselves ; and every thing which we read respect- ing private houses in every subsequent age, confirms us in the idea, that they could make no pretensions to elegance of construction.* It would be difficult to produce a single example of such a building. But we find express evidence to the contrary. Athens was by no means a fine city like some of our modern ones, in which there are whole streets of palaces occupied as the dwellings of private persons. A stranger could have been in Athens without imagin- ing himself to be in the city which contained the greatest masterpieces of architecture. The splendor of the city was not perceived till the public squares and the Acropolis were approached. f The small dwel- lings of Themistocles and of Aristides were long pointed out ; and the building of large houses was regarded as a proof of pride.J But when luxury increased, the houses were built on a larger scale ; several chambers for the accommodation of strangers and for other purposes were built round the court, which commonly formed the centre ; but all this might take place, and yet the building could lay no claims *It follows of course, that the testimony of writers of the Macedonian, or the Roman age, are not here taken into consideration, since we are not treating of those times. t Dicaearchus de Statu Graeciae. cap. 8. Huds. t Demosthenes reproaches the wealthy Midias with his large house at Eleusis, which intercepted the light of others. Op. i. p. 565. 334 CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. to beauty. If a town, which was, it is true, but a provincial town, may be cited to corroborate this, we have one still before our eyes. A walk through the excavated streets of Pompeii, will be sufficient to es- tablish our remark. Where the pomp and splendor of the public edifices were so great as among the Greeks, it was not possible for private buildings to rival them. Architecture, as applied to public purposes, began with the construction of temples ; and till the time of the Persian wars or just before, we hear of no other considerable public edifices. The number of temples remarkable for their architecture, was till that time a limited one ; although, in the age just preceding the war with Persia, this art had already produced some of its first works among the Greeks. In Greece itself the temple of Delphi was the most celebrated, after it had been rebuilt by the Alcmseonidae.* There was also the temple of Apollo in Delos. But it was about this time, that the invention of the Ionic order by the Asiatic Greeks in addition to the Doric, which had been, used till then, constituted a new epoch in the history of architecture. The splendid temple of Diana at Ephesus erected by the joint exertions of the cities and princes of Grecian Asia, was the first building in this new style.f About the same time Polycrates built the temple of Juno in Samos. The temples which after- wards formed the glory of Greece, those of Athens on the Acropolis and elsewhere, were all erected after the Persian war. So too was the temple of Jupiter * Herod, v. 62. t See the instructive disquisition : DerTempel der Diana zu Ephesus, von A. Hirt. Berlin, 1809. THE ARTS IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 335 at Olympia. As to the temples in Lower Italy and Sicily, we can fix the epoch in which, if not all, yet the largest and most splendid of them, the chief temples of Agrigentutn, were erected ; and that epoch is also subsequent to the Persian war.* And if those of the ancient Doric order, at Psestum and Segestus, belong to an earlier period, they cannot to one much earlier ; as these cities themselves were founded so much later than those in Asia Minor. Just before and after the Persian war, arose that prodigious emulation of the cities, to make themselves famous for their temples; and this produced those masterpieces of architecture. The other principal kinds of public buildings, which were conspicuous for their splendor, were the theatres, the places for musical exhibitions, the porticos, and the gymnasia. Of the theatres, it has already been observed, that they were erected subse- quently to the Persian wars. The same is true of the halls for music. The porticos, those fa- vourite places of resort to a people who lived so much in public, belonged in part to the temples, f and in part surrounded the public squares. Of those in Athens, which by their works of art eventually eclipsed the rest, we know that they were not built till after the victory over the barbarians. Of all the public edifices, the gymnasia are those respecting which we have the fewest accounts-! They were * A more accurate enumeration of the chief temples of the Greeks, and the periods in which they were built, is to be found in Stieglitz, Geschichte der Baukunst der Alten. Leipzig, 1792. t As e. g. the \if%n at Olympia, respecting which Bottiger in his Geschich- te der Mahlerey, B. i. S. 296, etc. has given us a learned essay, as also in general respecting those places, to which the public resorted for conversa- tion. t On those at Athens, consult Stieglitz in loc. cit.p.220. 336 CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. probably erected at a distance in the rear of the temples ; though many of them were distinguished by excellent works of art. This line of division, carefully drawn between domestic and public architecture by the Greeks, who regarded only the latter as possessing the rank of one of the fine arts, gives a new proof of their correct views of things. In buildings destined for dwellings, necessity and the art are in constant opposition. The latter desires in its works to execute some grand idea independent of the common wants of life ; but a dwel- ling is intended to meet those very wants, and is in no respect founded on an idea connected with beauty. The temples are dwellings also, but the dwellings of the gods ; and as these have no wants in their places of abode, the art finds here no obstacle to its inven- tions. The plastic art* and painting bore to each other, among the Greeks, the opposite relation to that which they have borne in modern times. The first was the most cultivated ; and though the latter attained the rank of an independent art, it never was able to gain the superiority. It is not for us here to explain the causes of this: we need only mention one, which to us is the most interesting. The more public the arts are among any people, the more naturally will the plastic art surpass that of painting. The works of both may be public, and were so among the Greeks, but those of the former are far better suited for public monuments than those of the latter. The works of painting find their place only on walls 5 those *The phrase plastic art is used, because there is no other which embraces at once the works of art formed of stone and of bronze. THE ARTS IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 337 of the plastic art, existing entirely by themselves, wherever there is room for them. The works of the plastic art, statues and busts, were, in the times of which we speak (and among the Greeks, with a few limitations, even in subsequent times), only public works, that is, designed to be set up, not in private dwellings, but in public places, temples, halls, market-places, gymnasia, and theatres. I know of no one instance of a statue that belonged to a private man ; and if there exists any example, it is an exception which confirms the general rule.* It may be said, that it is only accidental that we know of no such instances. But if any taste of that kind had prevailed at Athens, we should find traces of it in the comedians and orators. If these are consulted in vain for such indications, we are justified in con- cluding that no such private tastes existed. Phidias and his successors, till the Macedonian age, did not therefore labour to supply with their works the houses and collections of individuals. This by no means implies, that they did not receive applications from private persons. If they had not, the incredi- ble multitude of statues, which we have already men- tioned, could never have been made.f This subject is so important, that we desire to treat of it more at large. *0r can the anecdote be cited, which Pausanias relates, p. i. 46, of the cunning of Phryne to gain possession of the god of love made by her lover Praxiteles ? Even if it be true, the fact is in our favour ; for she consecrat- ed it immediately as a public work of art in Thespia?, Athen. p. 591 ; in which city alone it was from that time to be seen. Cic. in Ver. ii. iv. 2. fThe infinite wealth of Greece in treasures of this kind, has been so clearly exhibited in a late discovery of Jacobs, that it has now become easy to form a distinct idea of them. Jacobs, Uber den Reichthum Griechenlands an plastischen Kunstwerken und die Ursachen desselben. 43 338 CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. The great masters were principally employed for the cities. These, or the men who were at their head (as the example of Pericles informs us), bespoke works of art, or hought them ready made, to orna- ment the city and the public buildings. We have distinct evidence, that the great masterpieces of Phid- ias, Praxiteles, and Lysippus, owed their origin to this. Thus were produced the Jupiter at Olyinpia, the Minerva Polias at Athens, by the first ; the Venus at Cnidus, as well as at Cos, by the second ; the Colossus of Rhodes, by the third. Yet numerous as were the applications of cities, the immense multitude of statues could not be accounted for, unless the piety and the vanity of individuals had come to their assis- tance. The first assisted by the votive offerings ; of which all the celebrated temples were full. These were by no means always works of art, but quite as often mere costly presents. Yet the collections of statues and pictures which belonged to those temples, consisted, for the most part, of votive offerings.* But these were as often the tribute of gratitude from whole cities, as from individuals.! The vanity of individuals contributed to the same end, by the custom of erecting statues, commonly of bronze, to the victors in the games.J When we *Not to mention Olympia and Delphi again, we refer to the temple of Juno in Sarnos, Strab. L. xiv. p. 438, of Bacchus at Athens, Paus. i. 20. The temple of Diana at Ephesus was so rich in works of art, that according to Plin. xxxvi. 14, a description of them would have filled several volumes. tThe temples received such presents not only during the lifetime of the donors, but as legacies. A remarkable instance of this is found in the will of Conon, who left 5000 pieces of gold (fntrnps) for that purpose. Lys. Or Gr. v. p. 639. \ See the passage in Pliny, xxxiv.9. His remark that a statue was erect- ed in honour of every victor at Olympia, seems hardly credible. Cf. Pai:* vi. p. 452. THE ARTS IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 339 remember the multitude of these games in Greece, Jhe number of statues will become intelligible 5 especially of those of bronze, of which in many instances more than one cast was made ; as the native cities of the victors would hardly fail in this manner to appropri- ate to themselves the fame of their citizens, which formed so much a subject of pride. Painting, from its very nature, seems to have been more designed for private use. Yet in the age of Pericles, when the great masters in this art appeared in Athens, it was hardly less publicly applied than the art of sculpture. It was in the public porticos and temples, that those masters, Polygnotus, Micon, and others, exhibited the productions of their genius.* No trace is to be found of celebrated private pictures in those times. | Yet portrait painting seems peculiarly to belong to private life. This branch of the art was certainly cultivated among the Greeks ; but not till the Mace- donian age. The likenesses of celebrated men were placed in the pictures which commemorated their actions ; as that of Miltiades in the painting of the battle in the Pcecile, or pictured hall in Athens ; or the artists found a place for themselves or their mis- * See Bottiger. Icleen zur Archaeologie der Mahlerey. B. i. S. 274, etc. I It is true, Andocides reproached Alcibiades, in his oration against him, of having shut up a painter, who was painting his house; Or. Gr. iv. p. 119. But this was not the way to obtain a fine specimen of the art. Allusion is there made to the painting of the whole house, not of an isolated work of art ; and we are not disposed to deny, that in the times of Alcibiades, it was usual to decorate the walls with paintings. On the contrary, this was then very common ; for the very painter Archagathus gives as his excuse, that he had already contracted to work for several others. But these common paint- ings are not to be compared with those in the temples and porticos; which as Bottiger has proved, Ideen. fcc. S. 282. were painted, not on the walls, but on wood. 340 CHAPTElt FIFTEENTH. tresses in such public works.* But, properly speak- ing, portrait painting, as such, did not flourish till the times of Philip and Alexander ; and was first prac- tised in the school of Apelles.f When powerful princes arose, curiosity or flattery desired to possess their likeness ; the artists were most sure of receiv- ing compensation for such labours ; and private stat- ues as well as pictures began to grow common ; al- though in most cases something of ideal beauty was added to the resemhlance.J We have ventured directly to assert, that the arts in their flourishing period belonged exclusively to public life ; and were not, according to the general opinion which seems to have been silently adopted, di- vided between that and private life. Be it remembered, this is to be understood only of works of art, in the proper sense of the expression ; that is, of those which had no other object but to be works of art ; of statues, therefore, and pictures ; not of all kinds of sculpture and painting. That the arts connected with private wants, were applied to objects of domestic life, to articles of household furniture, to candelabra, vases, tapestry, and garments, will be denied by no one, who is ac- quainted with antiquity. It was not till a Lucullus, a Verres, and others among the Romans, had gratified their taste as ama- * Polygnotus, e. g. introduced the beautiful Elpinice, the daughter of Miltiades, as Laodice. Plut. Hi. p. 178. \ This appears from the accounts in Plin. xxxv. xxxvi. 12, etc. \ A confirmation, perhaps a more correct statement of these remarks, is expected by every friend of the arts of antiquity in the continuation of Bot- tiger's Ideen zur Geschichte der Mahlerey. That in this period busts of in- dividuals became for the same reasons so much more numerous, has be.en illustrated by the same scholar in his Andeutungen, 5. 183, etc. THE AKTS IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 341 teurs, that the arts were introduced into private life ; and yet even in Rome an Agrippa could propose to restore to the public all the treasures of the arts, which lay buried in the villas. We should not there- fore be astonished, if under such circumstances the ancient destination of arts among the Greeks should have been changed, and they should have so far degenerated as to become the means of gratifying the luxury of individuals. And yet this never took place. This can be proved as well of the mother country, as of the richest of the colonies. Pausanias in the second century after the Chris- tian era, travelled through all Greece, and saw and described all the works of art which existed there. And yet I know of no one instance in all Pausanias of a work of art belonging to a private man ; much less of whole collections. Every thing was in his day, as before, public in the temples, porticos, and squares. If private persons had possessed works of art, who would have prevented his describing them? Verres plundered Sicily of its treasures in the arts, whenever he could find them ; and his accusers will hardly be suspected of having concealed any thing. But in this accusation, with one single excep- tion,* none but public works of art are mentioned. What shall we infer from this, but that no considera- ble productions of the fine arts were possessed by private persons in Sicily ? "Namely, the four statues which he took from Heius. Cic. in Verrem ii. i,v. 2. Yet they stood in a chapel (sacrarium), and were therefore in a cer- tain measure public. The name of Heius seems, however, to betray that the family was not of Grecian origin. But what does one such exception, and in such an age, prove respecting an earlier period ? 342 CUAPTEH FIFTEENTH. So deeply therefore was the idea fixed among the Greeks, that the works of the artists were public, that it could not be eradicated even by the profana- tions of the Romans. And this is the chief cause of their flourishing. They thus attained their destina- tion. The works of art belong, according to this, not to individuals, but to the cultivated part of mankind. They should be a common property. Even in our times, when individuals are permitted to possess them, censure is incurred if others are not also allowed to enjoy them. But even where this privilege is con- ceded, it is not a matter of indifference, whether an individual or the nation is the possessor. The res- pect shown to the arts by the nation in possessing their productions, confers a higher value on their labours. How much more honoured does the artist feel, how much niore freely does he breathe, when lie knows that he is exerting himself for a nation, which will esteem its glory increased by his works, instead of toiling for the money and the caprices of individuals ? Such was the condition of the arts in Greece. When emulation arose among the cities to be dis- tinguished by possessing works of art, a field was opened for a Phidias and Polygnotus, for a Praxiteles and Parrhasius. They were better rewarded by glory than by money ; some of them never worked for pay.* Need we then add any further remarks * Polygnotus painted the Pcecile for nothing ; Zeuxis, in the last part of his life, would receive no pay for his pictures, but gave them away. Plin. xxxv. 36. Thus a partial answer is given to the question, how the cities could support the great expense for works of art. Besides, in Greece as in Italy, the works of the great masters did not become dear till after their death. The little which we know of their personal condition and circum- stances, represents them for the most part as men of fine feelings and good THE ARTS IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 343 to explain why the blossoms of the fine arts faded with liberty ? Philip and Alexander still saw a Lysippus and an Apelles ; but with them ends the series of creative minds, such as no other nation has ever produced. But the taste of the nation for the arts and their productions, did not end with those artists. They had taken too good care to perpetuate that fondness. When the Grecians had lost almost every thing else, they were still proud of their works of art. This excited even in the Romans respect and admiration. " These works of art, these statues, these pictures," aays Cicero,* "delight the Greeks beyond every thing. From their complaints you may learn,t tnat that is most bitter to them, which to us appears per- haps trivial and easy to be borne. Of all acts of oppression and injustice, which foreigners and allies in these times have been obliged to endure, nothing has been more hard for the Grecians to bear, than this plundering of their temples and cities !" We have thus far endeavoured to consider Greece from all the points, in which she made herself glori- ous as a nation. Who is it, we may finally ask, that conferred upon her her immortality? Was- it her generals and men of power alone ; or was it equally her sages, her poets, and her artists ? The voice of ages has decided; and posterity justly places the images of these heroes of peace by the side of those of the warriors and kings.! fellowship, who, like the divine Raphael and Correggio, in the moments sa- cred to mental exertion, raised themselves above human nature, but other- wise enjoyed life without troubling themselves much about money. Phidias for all his masterpieces did not receive a third part as much as Gorgias for his declamations. * Cicero in Verrem, ii. iv. 59. t Of the robberies of Verres. t See Visconti. Inconographie ancienne. Paris 1811. 344 CHAPTER SIXTEENTH. CHAPTER SIXTEENTH. CAUSES OF THE FALL OF GREECE. THE melancholy task of explaining the causes which led to the fall of Greece, has already been much facilitated by the preceding investigations. Most of them the reader will now be able to mention of himself ; we have only to illustrate them somewhat more at large, and arrange them in a manner to ad- mit of being distinctly comprehended at a single view. If the constitutions of the individual Grecian states were defective, the constitution of the whole Grecian system was still more so. Though geographically united, they cannot be said to have formed one polit- ical system. A lasting union was never established between the Grecian states ; and a transitory and very imperfect one was effected only in times of dan- ger, as in the Persian wars. But even this imperfect union was productive of important results. The league which was then established, produced the idea of the su- premacy of an individual state. It has already been shown, in what manner Athens managed to acquire this rank, and in what manner that city -turned it to advantage ; but we have also shown, that a par- tial supremacy alone existed, embracing only the seaports and the islands, and therefore necessarily resting for its support on the dominion of the seas on each side of Greece, and consequently on a navy. CAUSES OF THE FALL OF GREECE. 345 This was a result of the political relations and the nature of the league. But the consciousness of supe- riority excited those who were possessed of it to abuse it ; and the allies began to be oppressed. Athens, having once established its greatness on this supremacy, would not renounce it when the ancient motives had ceased to operate after the peace with the Persians. Individual states attempted to reclaim by force the independence, which was not voluntari- ly conceded to them. This led to wars with them 5 and hence the dominion of the sea was followed by all the other evils, of which even Isocrates complains.* The chief reason of this internal division did not lie merely in changing political relations, but more deeply in the difference of the tribes. There was a chasm between the Dorian and Ionian, which never could be filled up; a voluntary union of the two for any length of time was impossible. Several causes may be mentioned, as having contributed to render this division incurable. The tribes were di- vided geographically. In the mother country, the Dorian had the ascendency in the Peloponnesus, the Ionian in Attica, Eubcea, and many of the islands. Their dialects were different ; a few words were sufficient to show to which tribe a man belonged. The difference in manners was hardly less considera- ble, especially with relation to the female sex, which among the Dorians participated in public life ; while amongst the lonians it was limited to the women's apartments within the houses. And the common people were very much influenced by the *Isocra(. de Pace, Op. p. 176. 44 346 CHAPTER SIXTEENTH. circumstance, that the festivals celebrated by the two, were not the same. But the division was made politically incurable by the circumstance, that Sparta was, or at least desired to be, considered the head of the whole Doric tribe. This state, both in its public and private constitution, was in almost every respect the opposite of Athens. As the laws of Lycurgus alone were valid in it, the other Dorian cities did by no means resemble it ; but as it was ambitious of being their head, its influence decided, at least in the mother country. But that influence was often extended to the colonies ; and though the Persian authority may have repressed the hatred of the tribes in Asia Minor, it continued with the greatest acrimony in Sicily. In the war of the Syracusans against the Leontini, the Dorian cities were on the side of the former ; the Ionian on that of the latter ; and the cities of Lower Italy in their choice of sides were influenced by the same circumstance.* This hatred, preserved and inflamed by the ambi- tion, common to both, of obtaining the supremacy over Greece, was finally followed by that great civil war, which we are accustomed to call the Peloponnesian. Of nearly equal duration, it was to Greece what the thirty years' war was to Germany ;f without having been terminated by a similar peace. As it was a revolutionary war in the true sense of the expression, it had all the consequences attendant on such a war. The spirit of faction was enabled to strike such deep Thucyd. iii. 86. t It lasted from the year 431 till the year 404, when it was terminated by the taking of Athcrj?. CAUSES Or THE FALL OF GREECE. 347 root, that it never more could be eradicated ; and the abuse which Sparta made of her forced supremacy, was fitted to supply it with continual nourishment. Who has described this with more truth or accuracy than Thucydides? " By this war," says he,* " all Hellas was set in motion ; for on all sides dissensions prevailed between the popular party and the higher order. The former desired to invite the Athenians ; the latter the Lacedemonians. The cities were shak- en by sedition ; and where this broke out at a less early period, the attempt was made to commit greater excesses than any which had elsewhere taken place. Even the significations of words were changed. Mad rashness was called disinterested courage ; prudent delay was styled timidity. Whoever was violent, was held worthy of confidence ; whoever opposed him, was suspected. The crafty was called intelligent ; the more crafty, still more intelligent. In short, praise was given to him who anticipated another in injustice ; and to him who encouraged to crime one who had never thought of it." From the words of the historian, the effect of these revolutions on morals is apparent ; and yet no states rested so much on morals as the Grecian. For were they not communities which governed themselves? Did not the laws enter most deeply into private life ? and was not anarchy a necessary consequence of the moral corruption ? This was soon felt in Athens. Through- out the whole of Aristophanes, we see the contrast between the better times that were gone by. and the new, in all parts of public and domestic life; in *Thncyd. iii. 82. We have selected only a few remarks from a passage written for all succeeding centuries. 348 CHAPTER SIXTEENTH. poetry, in eloquence, in education, in the courts of justice, &c. ; and finally in a celebrated dialogue, the ancient and the modern customs are introduced, disput- ing upon the stage.* And who can read the orators without being astonished at the incredible corruption of morals ? This leads us to a kindred topic, the profanation of the popular religion. The careful student of the history of the Grecian nation will observe this profanation increase, as he approaches the age of Philip ; and though other causes may have had some influence, we can only thus explain the origin of a religious war like the Phocian. The causes which produced the decay of the popular religion, may for the most part be found in a former chap- ter. It would be useless to attempt to deny, that the speculations of the philosophers had a great share in it ; although the better part of them were strenu- ous to prevent such a result. Aristophanes was certainly unjust in attributing such designs to Socra- tes, but he was right in attributing it to philosophy in general. The question now arises : On which side lies the blame ? On that of philosophy, or of the popular religion ? It is not difficult to answer this question after what we have already remarked! of the latter. A nation with a religion like that of the Greeks, must either refrain from philosophical inqui- ries, or learn from philosophy that its religion is unfounded. This result cannot be urged against the philosophers as a crime, but only a want of pru- dence, of which they were guilty in promulgating * The \yts I'txtuts and <&*; in the Clouds. t See the third chapter. CAUSES OF THE FALL OF GREECE. 349 their positions* The care taken by the best of them in this respect, has already been mentioned ; and that the state was not indifferent to the practice of the rest, is proved by the punishments which were inflicted on many of them. But though the systems of the philosophers were restricted to the schools, a multitude of philosophic views were extended y which to a certain degree were adopted by the common people. In Athens, the comedians contributed to this end ; for whether with or without design, they extended the doctrines which they ridiculed. The most melancholy proof of the decay of reli- gious feeling, is found in the Phocian war and the manner in which that war was^ conducted. In the time of Thucydides, Delphi and its oracle were still revered ;* although the Spartans began even then to doubt its claims to confidence.! When all the former relations of the states were dissolved by the Peloponnesian war and its consequences, those toward the gods were also destroyed ; and the crimes committed against them, brought on their own punish- ment in a new civil war and the downfall of liberty. The treasures stolen from, Delphi, with which the war was carried on, suddenly increased the mass of species current in Greece to an unheard of degree ; but increased in an equal degree luxury and the wants of life.J And if any portion of the ancient spirit remained, it was destroyed by the custom of employing mercenary soldiers, a custom, which be- came every day more common, and gave a deadly chill to valour and patriotism. * Thacyd. v. 32. t Thucyd. v. 16. t See a leading passage on this topic, in Athen. iv. p. 231. 350 CHAPTER SIXTEENTH. Thus the evils of which the superior policy of a neighbour knew how to take advantage, were the result of defects in the political constitution ; in that very constitution, but for which those glorious fruits, which were borne by the tree of Grecian liberty, never could have ripened. But amidst all the disor- der, and all the losses, not every thing perished. The national spirit, though it could hardly have been expected, still remained, and with it the hope of bet- ter times. Amidst all their wars with one another, the Greeks never ceased to consider themselves as one nation. The idea of one day assuming that character animated the best of them. It is an idea which is expressed in almost $very one of the writings of the pure Isocrates ;* and which he could not survive, when after the battle of Chaeronea, the spirit of the eloquent old man voluntarily escaped from its earthly veil, beneath which it had passed a hundred years. Yet the echo of his wishes, his prayers, and his instructions did not die away. Still the last of the Greeks had not yet appeared ; and the times were to come, when, in the Achaean league, the splendid day of the greatness of Hellas was to be followed by a still more splendid evening. So certain is it, that a nation is never deserted by destiny, so long as it does not desert itself. * See especially Panathen. Op. 236. THE END. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. if "0 : D .< FEB 281985 3 1158 5700 A 000 033 493 8