t* * s ANCIENT GREECE FROM THE GERMAN OF ARNOLD H. L. HEEREN. BY GEORGE BANCROFT. SECOND AMERICAN EDITION. BOSTON: CHARLES C. LITTLE AND JAMES BROWN. MDCCCXLII. Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1842, By GEORGE BANCROFT, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. BOSTON: PRINTED BY FREEMAN AND BOLLES, WASHINGTON STREET. Stack- Annex THE TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. 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, arid 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 collection 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. Early in life he was led to consider the history of the world as influ- enced 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 iv PREFACE. their kings, the administration of their provinces, and their military resources. The Phoenicians next pass in review ; and a sketch is given of their internal condition and government, their colonies and foreign possessions, their commerce, their manufactures and inland trade. The country and nation of the Babylonians, and their com- merce, form the next subjects of consideration. The Scythians are then delineated, and a geographical sur- vey of their several tribes is naturally followed by an inquiry into the commerce and intercourse of the nations which in- habited 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 singular part of the globe, the Carthaginians present the most remarkable example of the wealth and power which a state may acquire by com- merce 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 valor, 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 mag- nificence of its monuments, that have, as it were, been discov- ered within the recollection of our contemporaries, all serve to PREFACE. V 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- 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. 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 him- self by his perspicuity, moderation, and flowing style. The business of translating is but an humble one ; 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 VI PREFACE. 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 governments ; 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 find in one of the chapters, an outline of the political career of Demosthenes. His reputation is there vin- dicated from the calumnies that have so long been heaped upon one of the noblest, most persevering, most disinterested advo- cates of the cause of suffering 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 advancement of learning in our common country. NORTHAMPTON, MASS., December 18, 1823. PREFACE TO THE SECOJVD EDITION. Tins translation, of which two or three editions have been published in England, lias recently been adopted as a text-book in Harvard College. Hence it became necessary to reprint it; and the opportunity has been seized to revise it, and to adopt the few changes and additions, which were made by Mr. Heeren in the latest edition of his works. BOSTON, February 12, 16-12. TABLE OF CONTENTS. General Preliminary Remarks 1 CHAPTER I. Geographical View of Greece 15 CHAPTER II. Earliest Condition of the Nation and its Branches .... 42 CHAPTER III. Original Sources of the Culture of the Greeks 49 CHAPTER IV. The Heroic Age. The Trojan War 81 CHAPTER V. The Period following the Heroic Age. Emigrations. Origin O o O D of Republican Forms of Government, and their Character 97 CHAPTER VI. Homer. The Epic Poets 105 CHAPTER VII. Means of Preserving the National Character 122 CHAPTER VIII. The Persian Wars and their Consequences 140 Viii CONTENTS. CHAPTER IX. Constitutions of the Grecian States 155 CHAPTER X. The Political Economy of the Greeks 181 CHAPTER XI. The Judicial Institutions 213 CHAPTER XII. The Army and Navy 224 CHAPTER XIII. Statesmen and Orators 25i CHAPTER XIV. The Sciences in Connection with the State 277 CHAPTER XV. Poetry and the Arts in Connection with the State .... 313 CHAPTER XVI. Causes of the Fall of Greece 338 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, than the superiority of Europe over the other parts of our earth. Whatever justice may be rendered to other lands and nations, it cannot be denied that the noblest and best of everything, which humanity has pro- duced, 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 everything which is the work of man, the nations of Eu- rope stand far above those of the other continents. It was among them, that, by making marriage the union of but one with one, domestic society obtained that form, without which the higher culture of so many parts of our nature could never have been attained; and if slavery and bondage were established among them, they alone, recognising their injustice, abolished them. It was chiefly and almost exclusively among them, that such constitu- tions were framed, as are suited to nations who have become conscious of their rights. If Asia, during all the 2 PRELIMINARY REMARKS. changes in its extensive empires, does but show the con- tinued 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 places, bore the noblest fruits ; which again were transplanted 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 Europe- ans. What progress from the loom of the Hindoo to the power-looms driven by steam ; from the sun-dial to the chronometer, which guides the mariner over the ocean ; from the bark canoe of the Mohawk 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 an- nalists, but never produced a Tacitus, or a Gibbon ; it had its poets, but never advanced to criticism ; it had its sao;es, who not unfrequently produced a powerful effect on their nations by means of their doctrines ; but a Plato or a Kant never ripened 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 savage life, immediately established over the ex- tensive countries of the large continents. The East o 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 king- dom in Macedonia of limited extent outgrown its child- hood, before Macedonians ruled on the Indus as on the PRELIMINARY REMARKS. 3 Nile. The imperial city was the heiress of the imperial nation ; Asia and Africa adored 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 long remained 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 Europeans beam over the earth, when, through Columbus and Vasco de Gama, the morning of its fairer day began to dawn. The new world at once became their prey, that it might receive their culture, and become their rival ; 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 ? The career of conquest may have been marked with seventy and blood ; the Europeans became not the. tyrants only, but also 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 universal revolution, any consoling prospect for the future is opened, is it not. the triumph of European culture beyond the limits of Europe ? From whence proceeds this superiority, this universal sovereignty of so small a region as Europe ? An impor- 4 PRELIMINARY REMARKS. tant truth presents itself at once. Not undisciplined strength, not the mere physical force of the mass, it was intelligence which produced it ; and if the military science of Europeans founded their sovereignty, it was their superior political science which maintained it. But the question which was proposed, remains still unan- swered ; for we desire to know the causes of this intel- lectual superiority ; and why it was in Europe, that the faculties of human nature were so much more beautifully unfolded ? To such a question no perfectly satisfactory answer can be given. The phenomenon is in itself much too rich, much too vast for that. It will be readily conceded, that it could only be the consequence of many cooperating causes ; of these several can be enumerated, and thus afford some partial solution. But to enumerate them all separately, and in their united influences, could only be done by a mind, to which 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, and follow the course and the interweaving of the various threads. Here, attention is drawn to one important circum- stance, of which the cautious inquirer almost fears to estimate the value. Whilst we see the surface of the other continents covered with nations of different, and almost always of dark color, (and, in so far as this deter- mines the race, of different races) ; the inhabitants of Europe belong only to one race. It has not, and it never had, anv other native inhabitants than white nations. 1 1 The Ciipspys are foreigners ; and it may seem doubtful whether the Lap- landers are to be reckoned to Ihe white or yellow race. PRELIMINARY REMARKS. 5 Is the white man distinguished by greater natural talents ? Has he by means of them precedence over his colored brethren ? This is a question, which physiology cannot answer at all, and which history must answer with timidity. Who will absolutely deny, that the dif- ferences of organization, which attend on the difference in color, can have an influence on the more rapid or more difficult unfolding of the mind ? But, on the other hand, who can demonstrate this influence, without first raising that secret veil, which conceals from us the re- ciprocal connexion between body and mind ? And yet we must esteem it probable ; and how much does this probability increase in strength, if we make inquiries of history ? The great superiority, which the white na- tions in all ages and parts of the world have possessed, is a matter of fact, which cannot be done away with by denials. It may be said, this was the consequence of external circumstances, which favored 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 W 7 as passed neither by the Egyptian nor by the Mongolian, neither by the Chinese nor the Hindoo? And among the colored races, why did the black remain behind the brown and the yellow ? If these observations cannot but make us inclined to attribute differences of capacity to the several branches of our race, they do not on that account prove an absolute w r ant of capacity in our darker fellow-men, nor must they be urged as containing the whole ex- planation of European superiority. This, only, is in- tended ; experience thus far seems to prove, that a 6 PRELIMINARY REMARKS. greater facility in developing the powers of mind be- longs to the nations of a clear color ; but we will wel- come the age, which shall contradict this experience, and exhibit cultivated nations of negroes. But however high or low this natural precedency of the Europeans may be estimated, no one can fail to ob- serve, that the physical qualities of this continent offer peculiar advantages, which may serve not a little to explain the abovementioned phenomenon. Europe belongs almost entirely to the northern tem- perate zone. Its most important lands lie between the fortieth and sixtieth degree of north latitude. Farther to the north nature gradually dies away. 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 exhaust the whole strength of its inhabitants. Europe, except where local causes put obstacles in the w r ay, is through- out susceptible of agriculture. To this it invites, or rather compels ; for it is as little adapted to the life of hunters as of herdsmen. Although its inhabitants have at various periods changed their places of abode, they were never nomadic tribes. They emigrated to con- quer ; to make other establishments where booty or better lands attracted them. No European nation ever lived in tents ; the well wooded plains offered in abundance the materials for constructing those huts, which the in- clement skies required. Its soil and climate were pecu- liarly fitted to accustom men to that regular industry, which is the source of all prosperity. If Europe could boast of but few distinguished products, perhaps of no one which was exclusively its own, the transplantation PRELIMINARY REMARKS. 7 of the choicest from distant regions, made it necessary to cherish and to rear them. Thus art joined with na- ture, and this union is the mother of the gradual improve- ment of our race. Without exertion man can never enlarge the circle of his ideas ; but at the same time his mere preservation must not claim the exercise of all his faculties. A fruitfulness, sufficient to reward the pains of culture, is spread almost equally over Europe ; there are no vast tracts of perfect barrenness ; no deserts like those of Arabia and Africa ; and the steppes, which themselves are well watered, begin towards the east. Mountains of a moderate elevation usually interrupt the plains ; in every direction there is an agreeable inter- change of hill and valley ; and if nature does not exhibit the luxurious pomp of the torrid zone, her awakening in spring has charms which are wanting 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, then, opposite results should be exhibited, where the shepherd nations of Tartary and Mongolia, so long as they roamed in their own countries, seem to have been compelled to remain forever stationary ? But bv the character of its soil, by the interchange of mountains and valleys, by the number of its navigable rivers, and above all, by its coasts on the Mediterranean, Europe distinguishes itself from those regions so remarkably, that this similar tem- perature 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 8 PRELIMINARY REMARKS. regulation of domestic society ? With this begins in some measure the history of the first culture of our conti- nent ; tradition has not forgotten to tell, how the founder of the oldest colony among the savage inhabitants of At- tica, was also the founder of regular marriages ; and who has not learned of Tacitus the holy usage of our German ancestors ? Is it merely the character of the climate, which causes 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 im- portance 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 say confidently ; 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 others r) 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 preceded those of the North ; if these were still wandering in their forests when those had already obtained their ripe- ness, they finally made up for their dilatoriness. Their time also came ; the time when they could look down on thrir southern brethren with a just consciousness of their own worth. This leads us to the important differences, PRELIMINARY REMARKS. which are peculiar to the North and the South of this continent. A chain of mountains, which, though many arms ex- tend to the North and South, runs in its chief direction from West to East, the chain of the Alps, connected in the west with the Pyrenees by the mountains of Se- vennes, 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 continent of Eu- rope, which stretches 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, of all that flow into the Mediter- ranean, are alone important for navigation. No other chain of mountains of our earth has had such an influ- ence 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 civiliza- tion had already opened under the Grecian and Hespe- rian 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 for itself a road across the Alps, just as it has found a path over the ocean ; but it was of decisive importance 2 10 PRELIMINARY REMARKS. for the age of which we are speaking, for antiquity. The North and South were then physically, morally, and politically divided ; that chain long remained the protect- ing bulwark of the one against the other ; and if Cresar, finally breaking over these boundaries, removed in some measure the political landmarks, the distinction still con- tinues apparent between the Roman part of Europe, and that which never yielded to the Romans. It is therefore only the southern part of our hemisphere, 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 situ- ation. 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 feeling of their existence is awakened even here. The aloe grows wild in Lower Italy ; the sugar-cane thrives in Sicily ; from the top of ^Etna, 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 neighboring Africa. 1 Here nature never partakes of the uniformity, which so long repressed the spirit of the natives in the forests and plains of the North. In all these countries there is a constant inter- change of moderately elevated mountains with pleasant valleys and level lands, over which Pomona has scattered 1 Barters Ivt'ise (lurch Sieilien. B. II. p. 333 340. PRELIMINARY REMARKS. 11 her choicest blessings. The limited extent of the coun- tries allows no large navigable rivers ; but what an in- demnification for this is found in its extensive and richly indented coasts. The Mediterranean sea belongs to the South of Europe ; and it was by means of that sea, that the nations of the West were formed. Let an extensive heath occupy its place, and we should yet be wandering Tartars and Mongolians, like the nomades of middle Asia. 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 as prominent, although distinguished in different ways. We shall follow the same order in treating of them. 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 atten- tive eye, he could hardly remain in doubt that their country, in point of situation, is favored by nature be- yond any other in Europe. It is the most southern of that continent. The promontory of Teenarium, in 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 Cambunian mountains, which divide it from Macedonia, about two hundred and twenty-five miles from south to north. 1 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 abundance 1 From 3Gi to 40 degrees north latitude. 16 CHAPTER FIRST. 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 those of Portugal. But what advantages of situation 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 extent, established the geographical divisions, separating the peninsula of the Peloponnesus from the main land ; and dividing the latter into nearly equal parts, northern and southern, by the chain of (Eta, which traverses it obliquely. In every direction hills interchange with valleys and fruitful plains ; and though in its narrow compass no large rivers are found (the Peneus and Ach- elous are the only considerable ones), its extensive coasts, abundantly provided with bays, landing-places, and natural harbors, afford more than an equivalent. The peninsula of Pelops, so called in honor of Pelops, who, according to the tradition, introduced, not war, but the gifts of peace from Asia Minor, is about equal in extent to Sicily, and forms the southernmost district. 1 It, consists of a central 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 1 Soc the Map of flip Peloponnesus by Professor C. 0. Miiller, on which the mountains as well as the different districts are triven with critical exactness. GEOGRAPHICAL VIEW OF GREECE. 17 watered by an abundance of streams, which pour from the mountains in every direction. This high inland district, nowhere touching the sea, is the far-famed Arcadia of poetical tradition. Its highest ridge, mount Cyllene, rises, according to Strabo, from fifteen to twenty stadia above the sea. 1 Nature has destined this country for pastoral life. " The pastures and meadows in sum- mer are always green and unscorched ; for the shade and moisture preserve them. The country has an ap- pearance similar to that of Switzerland, and the Arca- dians in some measure resemble the inhabitants of the Alps. They possessed a love of freedom and yet 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 pastoral country. Innumerable brooks, one more delightful than the other, sometimes rushing impetuously and sometimes gently murmuring, pour themselves down the mountains. Vegetation is rich and magnificent ; everywhere fresh- ness and coolness are found. One flock of sheep suc- ceeds another, till the rugged Taygetus is approached ; where numerous herds of goats interchange with them." 2 The inhabitants of Arcadia, devoted to the pastoral life, preferred therefore for a long time to dwell in the open country rather than in cities ; and when some of these, particularly Tegea and Mantinea, became considerable, the contests between them destroyed the peace and liberties of the people. The shepherd life among the 1 Strabo, 1. viii. p. 595, ed. Casaub. 1707. The indefinite nature of the ac- count shows how uncertain it is. * Bartholdy. BruchstQcke zur nahern Kenntniss Griechenlands, s. 239-241 . 3 1 8 CHAPTER FIRST. Greeks, although much ornamented by the poets, betrays its origin in this ; that it arose among a people, who did not wander like Nomades, but had fixed abodes. Round Arcadia lay seven districts, almost all of which were well watered by streams, that descended from its highlands. In the south lay the land of heroes, Laco- nia, rough and mountainous, but thickly settled ; so that it is said, at one time, to have contained nearly a hundred towns or villages. 1 It was watered by the Eurotas, the clearest and purest of all the Grecian rivers, 2 which, rising in Arcadia, was increased 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, notwithstanding the market-place, the theatre, and the various temples which Pausanias enumerates, 3 it was not one of the more splendid. The monuments of fallen heroes 4 constituted the principal ornament of the banks of the Eurotas, which were then, and still are, covered with the laurel. 5 But all these monuments have pe- rished ; there is a doubt even as to the spot where an- cient Sparta was situated. It was formerly thought to be the modern Misitra ; this opinion has been given up ; a more recent traveller believes, that about three miles to the south-east of Misitra, he has discovered, in the ruins of Mognla, the traces of the ancient theatre and 1 Manso has enumerated sixty-seven: Sparta, i. '2. p. 15. And yet Laconia was not much more extensive than the territory of Nuremberg, when a free city '-' Bartholdy. Bruchstttcke, &c. p. 223. :i Pausan. iii. p. 240. ed. Kulm. 4 See the long list of them in Pausanias, p. 240, 243, &c. ' Pouqueville. Voyage i. p. 189. GEOGRAPHICAL VIEW OF GREECE. 19 some temples. 1 At the distance of four miles lay Amy- clas, celebrated for the oracle of Apollo, of whose sanc- tuary not a trace is now visible ; and a road of twenty miles led from Sparta to Gythium, its harbor in that period of its history, when, mistaking its true policy, it built a fleet. On the west and north, Laconia was sur- rounded by the lofty Taygetus, which separated it from the fruitful plains of Messenia. This country was soon overpowered by Sparta, 2 which, having thus doubled its territory, easily became the largest of all the Grecian cities. But after a long and quiet possession, Messenia was finally avenged ; when Epaminondas, its restorer, crushed the power of humbled Sparta. A neck of land, called Argolis, from its capital city Argos, extends in a south-easterly direction from Arcadia forty-eight miles into the sea, where it terminates in the promontory of Scillacum. Many and great recollections recall this country to memory from the heroic age ; and the remains of the most ancient style of architecture, the Cyclopic walls, which are still standing on the sites of the west towns, make that age present even now. Here lay Tiryns, whence Hercules departed to enter on his labors ; here was Mycenae, the country of Agamemnon, 1 See Chateaubriand. Itineraire de Paris a Jerusalem, i. p. 25. This travel- ler was but one hour in going from Misitra to Mogula, by way of Palaiochoros, on horseback and in a gallop. Those discoveries belong to M. Chateaubriand ; he remarks, however, that others before him had supposed Palaiochoros to be the site of ancient Sparta. The great insecurity of travelling in the Peloponnesus increases the difficulty of the investigation ; yet by the work of Sir William Cell, in his Itinerary of the Morea, being a description of the Routes of that peninsula, London, 1817, with a map, the topography of the peninsula has received suffi- cient illustrations. The distances given in the text rest on his authority. He makes the distance from Misitra or Mistra to Sparta to be 52 minutes. The city lay on hills, and appears to have been about a mile long. Cell, p. 222. 2 In the second Messenian war, which ended G6S years before Christ 20 CHAPTER FIRST. the most powerful and most unhappy of kings ; here was Nemea, celebrated for its games instituted in honor of Neptune. But the glory of its earliest times 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, holding in subjection the larger western moiety of the district, while Epidaurus and Trsezene remained independent ; still it never assumed a rank among the first of the Grecian states, but was rather the sport of foreign policy. In the west of the Peloponnesus lay Elis, the holy land. Its length from south to north, if the small south- ern district of Triphylia be reckoned, amounted to forty- eight miles ; its breadth in the broadest part was not more than half as much. Several rivers, which had their rise in the Arcadian mountains, watered its fruitful plains. Among them the Alpheus was the largest and the most famous ; for the Olympic games were cele- brated on its banks. Its fountains were not far distant from those of the Eurotas ; and as the latter, 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, assembling in festive pomp, saluted each other as one people, no bloody feuds were suffered to profane the soil. Armies were indeed per- mitted to pass through the consecrated land ; but they were first deprived of their arms, which they did not again receive till they left it. 1 This general rule was 1 Strabo, viii. p. 247. Phidon of Argos was the first, who violated this sanctity by an invasion, to appropriate to himself the holding of the Olympic games, GEOGRAPHICAL VIEW OF GREECE. 21 afterwards limited in its application to the time of the Olympian games ; but even during the following wars, the treasures of art in the sanctuaries of Elis remained uninjured ; and under their protection it long enjoyed a beneficent peace. 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 ruled by Nestor. 1 The northern division was Elis, a plain enclosed by the rough mountains Pholoe and Scollis, both spurs from the Arcadian Erymanthus, and watered by the Selleis and the Elian Peneus, on whose banks lay the city that gave a name to the whole region, over which it also exercised supreme authority ; for the dis- trict of the Elians, embracing both Pisatis and Triphylia, extended to the borders of Messenia. 2 The middle ter- ritory, Pisatis, so called from the city Pisa, was the most important of all, for it contained Olympia. Two roads from Elis led thither, one nearer the sea through the plain, another through the mountains ; the distance was from twenty-eight to thirty-two miles. 3 The name Olympia designated the country near the city Pisa 4 ( about 900 years before Christ ); yet this occupation must have been transient, for when Elis was built, (about 447 years before Christ) that city, even then relying on this sanctity, was surrounded by no walls. Strabo, 1. c. It was not till after the Peloponnesian war, that this and so many other religious ideas appear to have died away. 1 Strabo, viii. p. 242. The two other towns were situated, one in northern Elis, the other in Messenia. 2 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. 3 According to Strabo, 1. c. 300 stadia. 4 Barthelemy is not strictly accurate, when he calls (iv. p. 207) Pisa and 22 CHAPTER FIRST. (which even in Strabo's time was no longer in exist- ence), where every five years those games were cele- brated, which the Elians established after the subjugation of the Pisans, and at which they presided. If this privi- lege 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 re- spect to works of art and perhaps to wealth; if their safety, their prosperity, 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 in- creased ? Here on the banks of the Alpheus stood the sacred grove, called Altis, of olive and plane trees, sur- rounded 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, 1 in which was the colossal statue of that god, the masterpiece of Phi- dias. 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 ? Be- sides this temple, the grove contained that of Juno Lu- cina, the theatre and the prytaneum ; in front of it, or Olympia one city. Pisa was but six stadia (not quite a mile) from the tem- ple ; Schol. Pind. ad Ol. x. 55. I have never met with any mention of a city Olympia, ' '1 lit; temple of Jupiter Olvuipiu-s. built by the Elians in the age of Pericles, GEOGRAPHICAL VIEW OF GREECE. 23 perhaps within its precincts, 1 was the stadium together with the race-ground, or hippodromus. The whole forest was filled with monuments and statues, erected in honor of gods, heroes, and conquerors. Pausanias mentions more than two hundred and thirty statues ; of Jupiter alone he describes twenty-three, 2 and these were, for the most part, works of the first artists ; for how could inferiority gain admittance, where even mediocrity be- came despicable ? Pliny estimates the whole number of these statues in his time, at three thousand. 3 To this must be added the treasuries (-9-rjoav^oi,^ which the piety or the vanity of so many cities, enumerated by Pausa- nias, 4 had established by their votive presents. It was with a just pride, that the Grecian departed from Olym- pia. He could say to himself with truth, that he had seen the noblest objects on earth, and that these were not the works of foreigners, nor the pillage of foreign lands, but at once the creation and the property, of his own nation. 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 Jupiter, represented as seated, nearly touched the roof of the temple, as Strabo relates ; and is said to have been GO feet high. Compare : Volkel iiber den grossen Tempel und die Statue des Jupiters in Olympia, 1794. 1 According to Strabo, in the Altis : Barthelemy 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 accu- rate investigations, is M. Fauvel. But I am acquainted with his communication to the National Institute, Precis dc scs voyages dans Ic continent dc la Grecc, etc., only from the short notice contained in Millin, Magazin Encydop. 1802, T. II. He found, it is there said, not only the remains of the temple of Jupiter, but also of the Hippodromus. 2 Pausanias, v. p. 434, &c. has enumerated and described that number. Among them there was a colossus of bronze, 27 feet high. 3 Pliny, Hist. Nat. xxxiv. 17. There were as many at Athens, Delphi, and Rhodes. 4 Paus. vi. p. 497, etc. 24 CHAPTER FIRST. The territory of Elis was indebted for its repose to the protection of the gods ; Achaia, the country which bounded it on the north, to the wisdom of men. Having once been inhabited by lonians, this maritime country had borne the name of Ionia ; which was afterwards ap- plied exclusively to the neighboring sea on the west side of Greece. But in the confusion produced by the general emigration of the Dorians, it exchanged its ancient inha- bitants for Achaeans. 1 Achaia, watered by a multitude of mountain streams, which descended from the high ridges of Arcadia, belonged, with respect to its extent, fruitfulness, and population, to the middling countries of Greece. The character of its inhabitants was analogous. They never aspired after aggrandizement, or influence abroad. They were not made illustrious by great gene- rals or great poets. But they possessed good laws. Twelve cities, 2 each with a small territory, independent of each other in the management of their internal affairs, formed a confederacy, which, under the name of the Achaean league, could trace its origin to remote antiquity. A perfect equality was its fundamental principle ; no precedence of rank or power was to be usurped by any single city. What an example for the other parts of Greece, if they had been able or willing to understand it! In this manner the Achaeans continued for along time in the enjoyment of happy tranquillity, having no share in the wars of their neighbors. Their country was in no one's way, and attracted no one ; even during the Peloponnesian war, they remained neutral. 3 The Mace- 1 As earl}- as 1100 before Christ. 2 Dyme and Patrse were the most important ; Helice was swallowed up by the sea. :i Thucyd. ii. 9. GEOGRAPHICAL VIEW OF GREECE. 25 donian supremacy finally dissolved the confederacy, and favored individual tyrants, to use them as its instruments. But the times were to come, when Ne-mesis should rule. The Achaean league was renewed, and enlarged, and it became most dangerous to the Macedonian rulers. The small territory of the city Sicyon, (which after- wards belonged to the Achaean league) divided Achaia from that of Corinth. In point of extent, this state was one of the smallest in Greece ; but the importance of a commercial state does not depend on the extent of its territory. Venice was never more flourishing or more powerful, than at a time when it did not possess a square mile on the continent. Wealthy Corinth, more than four miles in extent, lay at the foot of a steep and ele- vated hill, on which its citadel was built. There was hardly a stronger fortress in all Greece, and perhaps no spot afforded a more splendid prospect than Acrocorin- thus. 1 Beneath it might be seen the busy city and its territory, with its temples, its theatres, and its aque- ducts. 2 Its two harbors, Lechaeum on the western bay, Cenchreae on the eastern, filled with ships, and the two bays themselves with the isthmus between them, were all in sight. The peaks of Helicon and of Parnassus 1 See Strabo, p. 261. Of modern travellers, Spon and Wheler ascended it in 1676. Chateaubriand, i. 36, says, that the prospect at the foot of the citadel is enchanting. If it is so now, what must it formerly have been ? Clarke (Travels, vol. ii. 5, p. 745, etc.) describes the few remaining ruins, and the whole country round Corinth; especially the isthmus. He too, and his companions, were refused admittance to the citadel, yet they obtained .eave to climb the cliff on which it stands; and which might be made as strong as Gibraltar. They gained the summit just at sunset : < : a more splendid prospect cannot be found in Europe." It extended even to the Acropolis at Athens. Travels, ii. p. 74D. 2 Corinth is famous even with the poets, for being well supplied with water ; compare Euripides in Strabo 1. c. Pausanias enumerates, 1. ii. 117, its many temples and aqueducts. 4 26 CHAPTER FIRST. itself, were seen at a distance ; and a strong eye could distinguish on the eastern side the Acropolis of Athens. What images and emotions are excited by this prospect ! Beyond the isthmus of the Peloponnesus, which the Grecians, acquainted for a long time with no other, were accustomed to call simply the Isthmus, lay the tract of Hellas. Its southern half stretching as far as the chain of (Eta, was divided into eight, or, if Locris, of which there were two parts, be twice counted, into nine dis- tricts ; of these, the extent was but small, as their num- ber indicates. Next to the isthmus, on which may still be seen the ruins of a stadium and a theatre, 1 and that temple of Neptune, in the grove of fir-trees, where all Greece assembled to celebrate the Isthmian games, the small but fruitful territory of Megara 2 began ; and through this, along the high rocky shore, where the robber Sciron is said to have exercised his profession, the road conducted to the favorite land of the gods, to Attica. 3 A neck of land or peninsula, opposite to that of Ar- golis, extends in a southeasterly direction about fifty-six miles into the ^Egean sea, and forms this country. Where it is connected with the main land, its greatest breadth may bo twenty-four miles ; but it tapers more and more to a point, till it ends in the high cape of Sunium, on the summit of which the temple of Minerva announced to the traveller, as he arrived from sea, the land which was protected by the goddess of courage and wisdom. 1 Clarke's Travels, ii. p. 7~>2. Even the sacred grove of firs still exists, from which, accord ;:i ir In Pausanius, the crowns of the victors were taken. " Like tint of Corinth, not more than eight miles in length and hrcadth. :i On Attica, see the critical map of Professor O. Miillcr. GEOGRAPHICAL VIEW OF GREECE. 27 It was not endowed with luxuriant fruitfulness ; it never produced so much corn as would supply its own inhabit- ants ; and for this, neither the honey of Hymettus, nor the marble of the Pentelic mountains, nor even the silver mines of Laurium, could have afforded a compensation. But the culture of the olive, mechanic industry, and the advantageous use made of the situation of the country for the purposes of commerce, gave to the frugal people all that they needed, and something more ; for the ac- tivity of commerce was shackled by no restrictive laws. Almost the whole country is mountainous ; the moun- tains are indeed of a moderate height, and covered with aromatic plants ; but they are stony and without forests. Their outlines are, however, wonderfully beautiful ; the waters of the Ilissus, the Cephissus, and of other rivers, or, to speak more accurately, of other brooks, which stream from them, are clear as crystal, and delicious to the taste ; and the almost constant clearness of the at- mosphere, which lends very peculiar tints to the build- ings, no less than to the mountains, 1 opens a prospect, which distance can hardly bound. " For, without doubt," (says a modern traveller 2 ) " this is the most salubrious, the purest, and the mildest climate of Greece ; as Euripides 3 has said, ' Our air is soft and mild ; the frost of winter is never severe, nor the beams of Phcebus oppressive ; so that for us there are no attractions in the choicest de- lights which are offered by the fields of Asia, or the wealth of Hellas.' " 1 See the remarks of Chateaubriand on this subject. Itin6raire a Jerusalem, i. p.191. 2 Bartholdy. BruchstUcke, &c. p. 2]4. 3 Euripides in Erechlheo. fr. i. v. 15, Ac. 28 CHAPTER FIRST. But where the mountains open, and leave room for plains of a moderate extent, the soil is still covered by forests of olive-trees, of which the eye can perceive no termination. " More beautiful are nowhere to be seen. Those of Palermo or on the Riviera of Genoa are hardly to be compared with these, which seem as it were im- mortal, and century after century send forth new branches and new shoots with renovated vigor." Formerly they overshadowed the sacred road, and the gardens of the academy ; and if the goddess herself, like her scholars, has deserted the soil, she has at least left behind her for posterity, the first of the presents, which she made to her darling nation. The traveller from Corinth and Megara, passing the isthmus to Attica, reached the sacred city of Eleusis at the distance of about ei^ht miles from Megara. When O O the inhabitants of that place submitted to Athens, they reserved for themselves nothing but their sanctuaries f and hence the mysterious festivals of Ceres continued to bo celebrated in their temple. From this place, the sacred road of almost unvarying breadth, led to the city which Pallas protected. Athens lay in a plain, which on the southwest ex- tended for about four miles towards the sea and the har- bors, but on the other side was enclosed by mountains. The plain itself was interrupted by several rocky hills. The largest and highest of these supported the Citadel or Acropolis, which took its name from its founder Ce- crops : round this, the city was spread out, especially in ' Ijnrllu'idy. I'ruchsUicke. &c. p. 220. This account is confirmed by Clarke. 11. p. 7S>. who was told that the olive trees were 40.000 in number. - l : ;nisan. i. p. '.-'J, GEOGRAPHICAL VIEW OF GREECE. 29 the direction of the sea. The summit of the hill con- tained a level space, about eight hundred feet long, and half as broad ; which seemed, as it were, prepared by nature to support those masterpieces of architecture, which announced at a great distance the splendor of Athens. The only road which led to it, conducted to the Propylaea, 1 with its two wings, the temple of Victory, and another temple, ornamented with the pictures of Polygnotus. That superb edifice, the most splendid monument which was erected under the administration of Pericles, the work of Mnesicles, was decorated by the admirable sculptures of Phidias. 2 They formed the proud entrance to the level summit of the hill, on which were the temples of the guardian deities of Athens. On the left was the temple of Pallas, the protectress of cities, with the column which fell from heaven, and the sacred olive-tree ; and that of Neptune. 3 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 Odeon, and the theatre of Bacchus, where the tragic contests 1 Compare the sketches and drawings in Stuart's Ant.iqu'dir.s of-'ltkcns. ' z A part of these masterpieces has perished. By robbing the Acropolis, Lord Elgin lias gained a name, which no other will wish to share with him. The sea has swallowed up his plunder. The devastation made by this modern Ileros- tratus, is described not by Chateaubriand only, Itincr. i. p. yO ; 2, but also, and with just indignation, by his own countryman, Clarke, Travels, ii. p. 4i3, an eye-witness. 3 The two, forming one whole, were only divided by a partition. Consult on the details of the building: Minerva: Poliadis Sacra; et aedes in arce Athe- narum; illustrata ab C. Odofredo Mailer. Gottingto, 1620, aijd the plan of the city by the same author, who, in his essay, followed a still extant Attic inscrip- tion ; and in his plan of Athens differs widely from Barthelerny. 30 CHAPTER FIRST. were celebrated on the festivals of the god, and those immortal masterpieces were represented, which, having remained to us, double our regret for those that are lost ; on the other side was the Prytaneum, where the chief magistrates and most meritorious citizens were honored by a table, provided at the public expense. A moderate valley, Coele, was interposed between the Acropolis and the hill on which the Areopagus held its sessions ; and between this and the hill of the Pnyx, where the collected people was accustomed to decide on the affairs of the republic. Here may still be seen the tribune, from which Pericles and Demosthenes spoke (it is imperishable, since it was hewn in the rock) ; not long ago it was cleared from rubbish, together with the four steps which led to it. 1 If any desire a more copious enumeration of the temples, the halls, and the works of art, which decorated the city of Pallas, they may find it in Pausanias. Even in bis 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 respect 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, especially with the tombs of great poets, warriors, and statesmen, who did not often remain after death without expressions of public gratitude, which were given so much the less frequently during their lives. A double wall, called the 1 ' lititpniibriand. Itiivniirr, vol. i. p. 184 ; and Clarke. Travels, ii. '2. p. 450. GEOGRAPHICAL VIEW OF GREECE. 31 Northern and Southern, enclosed the road, which was nearly four miles long, on both sides, and embraced the two harbors of Piraeeus and Phalereus. This wall, designed and executed by Themistocles, was one of the most important works of the Athenians. It was forty Grecian ells in height, built entirely of freestone, and so broad, that two baggage-waggons could pass each other. The Piraeeus, to which it led, formed (as did Phaleree) a city by itself with its own public squares, temples, market-places, and its enlivening commercial crowd ; and it seemed perhaps even more animated than Athens. 1 Its harbor, 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. 2 All three were formed naturally by the bays of the coast; but the Piraeus 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 very great distance of the city. The prospect, from -the Acropolis and the Parthenon commanded on the east the two peaks of Hymcttus ; on the north, Pentelicus with its quarries of marble ; to the northwest, the Citrucron was seen at a great distance, rising above the smaller moun- tains ; and Laurium, rich in silver mines, lay to the 1 The Piraeus was sometimes reckoned as a part of Athens; and this explains how it was possible to say. tiiat the city was two hundred stadia, or twenty miles in circumference. Dio Chrysost. Or. vi. 2 The rich compilations of Meursius on the Pira-eus, no less than on Athens, the Acropolis, the Cerainicus, &c. (Gronov. Thes. Ant. Gr. vol. ii. iii.) contain almost all the passages of the ancients respecting them. 32 CHAPTER FIRST. southeast almost at the end of the peninsula ; but towards the southwest, the eye could freely range over the har- bors and the Saronic bay, with the islands of Salamis and ^Egina, as far as the lofty citadel of Corinth. 1 Many of the chief places of the cantons (,* %ai dixaanjg 6 {Sactilevc, y.ai i5>v ;r(iOs -93(11-: y.vnio;. 3 See e. g. the representation on the shield of Achilles. 11. xviii. 504. THE HEROIC AGE THE TROJAN WAR. 89 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 al- most 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. 1 Greece, even in those times, was a thickly peopled and well cultivated countrv. What a crowd of cities is J enumerated by the poet ! And we must not imagine these to have been open towns with scattered habitations. The epithets applied to them frequently prove the reverse. They are in part surrounded with walls ; have gates and regular streets. 2 Yet the houses stand by themselves ; having in front a court, and in the rear a garden. 3 Such at least were the houses of the most respectable. Others appear to stand directly on the street without any court in front. In the middle of the city there is a pub- lic square or marketplace; the common place of assem- bly for the citizens, whether on solemn occasions, or for deliberation, or courts of justice, or any other purpose. It is surrounded with seats of stone, on which the distin- guished men are wont on such occasions to take their places. 4 No trace is to be found of any pavement in the streets. 1 How warmly Menelaus reproaches Eteoneus for proposing to send the strangers somewhere else. Od. iv. 31. 2 E. g. Athens with broad streets (tifyfuyuia). Od. vii. 8. Gortys with firm walls (Tii/iucana) ; and others. 3 Thus the palace of Menelaus, Od. ii. ; and of Alcinous, Od. vii. Others on the street. II. xviii. 4!)G. 4 The city of the Phaeacians, Od. vii. gives proof of all this. 12 90 CHAPTER FOURTH. The different branches of agriculture were already well advanced. Property in lands was universal ; of which the boundaries were fixed by measurement, and often designated by stones. 1 The poet describes to us the va- rious labors of farming, ploughing, whether with oxen or mules, sowing, reaping, binding the sheaves, and treading out the corn by oxen on the threshing-floor. Nor does he omit to mention the culture of the grape, the tilling of gardens, and the various duties of the herdsman. 2 It may be doubted whether the soil was much better culti- vated in the most flourishing period of Grecian history. The houses of the heroes were large arid spacious, and at the same time suited to the climate. The court was surrounded by a gallery, about which the bedchambers were built. There was a direct entrance from the court to the hall, which was the common place of resort. 3 Movable seats (#g40. A:c. 3 The abovemcntioned mansions of Menelaus and Alcinous best illustrate this stylo of architecture ; although the description of the mansion of Ulysses is in some parts more minute. THE HEROIC AGE -THE TROJAN WAR. 91 and also stables for the horses. 1 The stalls for cattle were commonly in the fields. Astonishment is excited by the abundance of metals, both of the precious and baser ones, with which the mansions were adorned, and of which the household utensils were made. 2 The walls glittered with them; the seats were made of them. Water for washing was presented in golden ewers on silver salvers ; the benches, arms, utensils were ornamented with them. Even if we suppose that much, called golden, was only gilded, we still have reason to ask, whence this wealth in precious metals ? Homer gives us a hint respecting the silver, when he speaks of it as belonging to Alybe, in the land of the Halizones. 3 Most of the gold probably came from Lydia, where this metal in later times was so abundant, that the Greeks were for the most part supplied with all they used from that country. As there was no coined money, 4 and as the metals were in consequence used in commerce as means of exchange, the manufacturing of them seems to have been one of the chief branches of mechanic industry. Proofs of this are found in the preparation of arms and utensils. We need but call to mind the shield of Achilles, the torch-bearing statues in the house of Alcinous, 5 the enameled figures on the clasp of Ulysses' mantle, 6 &c. But it is difficult to say, how far these manufactures were made by the Greeks, or 1 Thus with Menelaus, Od. iv. 40. 2 Above all in the mansion of Menelaus. 3 II. ii. Catalog, v. 304. Without doubt in the Caucasian chain of mountains; even if the Halizones and the Chalybes were not the same. 4 This was probably one of the chief reasons why so much of it was manu- factured. 5 Od. vii. 100. Od. xix. 225, &c. 92 CHAPTER FOURTH. gained by exchange from abroad. As the poet commonly describes them to be the works of Vulcan, it is at least clear, that manufactures of this kind were somewhat rare, and in part foreign. 1 Gold was afterwards wrought in Asia Minor, especially in Lydia ; all labor in brass and iron seems, as we remarked above, to have been first brought to perfection among the Hellenes in Crete. These labors in metal appear to have limited the early progress of the plastic arts. We find no traces of paint- ing, and none of marble statues. But those efforts in metal imply practice in drawing ; for we hear not only of figures, but also of expression in their positions and motions. 2 The art of weaving, the chief occupation of the women, was even then carried to a high degree of per- fection. The stuffs were of wool and linen ; it is hard to decide how far cotton was in those times manufactured in Greece. 3 Yet garments of foreign manufacture, those of Egypt and Sidon, were esteemed the most beautiful. 4 The dress was decent but free. The female sex were by no means accustomed to conceal the countenance, but were clad in long robes ; both sexes wore a tight under garment, over which the broad upper garment was thrown. 6 1 As e. g. the silver goblet received by Menelaus from the king of Sidon. Od. iv. 015. '-' Besides the description of the shield of Achilles, note especially Od. xix. 22*, etc. 3 Compare, above all, the description of Achilles' clothing. Od. xix. 225, etc. The mantle (//.an ), rough to the touch, was without doubt of wool ; but the under garment (/ITO) can hardly pass for either woollen or linen. Fine as a filmy web beneath it shone A vest, that dazzled like a cloudless sun. 4 As e. g. II. vi. 200. 6 The passages are collected in Feithii Ant. Homer, iii, cap. 7. THE HEROIC AGE THE TROJAN WAR. 93 The internal regulations of families were simple, but not without those peculiarities, which are a natural con- sequence of the introduction of slavery. Polygamy was not directly authorized ; but the sanctity of marriage was not considered as violated by the intercourse of the husband with female slaves. The noble characters of Andromache and of Penelope exhibit, each in its own way, models of elevated conjugal affection. It is more diffi- cult for us, with our feelings, to understand the seduced and returning Helen ; and yet if we compare Helen, the beloved of Paris in the Iliad, 1 with Helen, the spouse of Menelaus in the Odyssey, 2 we find truth and much internal harmony in the character which could err, but not become wholly untrue to nobleness of feeling. It is a woman, who, having become in youth the victim of sensuality, (and never without emotions of regret,) re- turned afterwards to reason ; before she was compelled to do so by age. Even after her return from Troy, she was still exceedingly beautiful ; 3 (and who can think of counting her 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 part- ing, 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 labors of the maidservants. 4 Still we observe in her, conjugal love of an elevated character. In other in- stances love has reference, both with mortals and with immortals, to sensual enjoyment ; although in the noble 1 In the third book. 2 Odyss. iv. and xv. 3 Odyss. iv. 121. 11. v i. 490. 94 CHAPTER FOURTH. and uncorrupted virgin 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 leading 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 woman as a being of a higher order, he did not, like the Asiatic, imprison her by troops in a haram. The progress which had been made in social life, is visible in nothing, except the relative situation of the sexes, more distinctly, 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 honored each other, were so 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 necessary to speak of war and the art of war. The heroic age of the Greeks, considered from this point of view, exhibits THE HEROIC AGE THE TROJAN WAR. 95 a mixture of savageness and magnanimity, 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. 1 The conquered party offers a ransom ; and it depends on the victor to accept or re- fuse 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 fortified camps, seems to have been first invented in the siege of Troy. 2 In other respects, everything depended on the more or less perfect equipments, together with personal courage and strength. As the great multitude was, for the most part, without defensive armor, 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 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 necessary, that a fondness for adventures in foreign lands should be awakened ; expeditions by sea, like that of the Argo- nauts, be attended with success ; and a union of the heroes, as in that and the march against Thebes, be first 1 An example, II. vi. 417. 2 See on this subject, on which we believe we may be brief, the Excursus of Heyne to the vi. vii. and viii. books of the Iliad. 96 CHAPTER FOURTH. 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 influence on all the internal regulations. The leaders of the several bands were voluntary followers of the Atridae, and could there- fore depart from the army at their own pleasure. Aga- memnon was but the first among the first. It is more difficult to ascertain 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 volun- tary ; and the spirit of the age allowed no such severe discipline as exists in modern armies. None but a Ther- sites could have received the treatment of Thersites. Tliis undertaking, begun and successfully terminated 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 con- quered in company. Yet something of a higher character was still wanting to preserve the flame, which was just bla/ing up. The assistance of the muse was needed, to commemorate in words those events of which the echo will never die away. By preserving the memory of them for ever, the most beautiful fruits which they bore were saved from perishing. THE PERIOD FOLLOWING THE HEROIC AGE. CHAPTER V. THE PERIOD FOLLOWING THE HEROIC AGE. MIGRATIONS. 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 deep- ly 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. 1 It was closely united with the political 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 could 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 honor was opened to them ; they were not celebrated in song like the Atrida3 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 1 Hesiod limits his fourth age, the a Odyss. i. 3158. 4 Qdyss. viii. 2GG, &c. 5 Od. viii. -1^3. Demodocus himself is here called a Hero. * Od. viii. 73, i. 348. ^ Od. viii. 492, etc. a leading passage. HOMER. THE EPIC POETS. 107 provisatori, commences his strains under the influence of the sudden inspiration. We would by no means be un- derstood to assert, that there were none but extempora- neous productions. Certain songs very naturally became favorites, 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 abund- ance of songs was needed ; a variety was required, and the charm of novelty even then enforced its claims. 1 For novel lays attract our ravished ears ; But old the mind with inattention hears. The voice was always accompanied by some instrument. The bard was provided with a harp, on which he played a prelude, 2 to elevate and inspire his mind, and with which he accompanied the song when begun. His voice probably preserved a medium between singing and reci- tation ; the words, and not the melody, were regarded by the listeners ; hence it was necessary for him to re- main intelligible to all. In countries where nothing sim- ilar is found, it is difficult to represent 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 sung those of others. Farther : their songs were poured forth from the inspiration of the moment ; or only reposed in 1 Od. i. 352. * Zcra(!UtoOai, Od. viii. 266, &c. 108 CHAPTER SIXTH. 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 ef- fusions ; 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, imi- tative 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. 1 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 interwoven with social life, that it could be spared at no cheering banquet, was common, no doubt, throughout all Hellas. We hear its strains in the island of the Phseacians, no less than in the dwellings of Ulysses and Menelaus. 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 of the Thracian Thamyris, who wished to contend with the muses, and was punished 1 As in the story of the amour of Mars and Venus. Od. viii. HOMER. THE EPIC POETS. 109 for his daring by the loss of the light of his eyes, and the art of song. 1 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, 2 this will hardly seem doubtful and still less improbable. 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 history of the poet and his works is lost in doubtful obscurity ; as is the history of many of the first minds who have done honor to humanity, because they arose amidst dark- ness. 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. 3 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. When once the rotten 1 II. Cat. Nav. 102. 2 As Orestes and his descendants. 3 It is hardly necessary to refer to the Excursus of Heyne on the last book of the Iliad ; and the Prolegomena of Wolf. 110 CHAPTER SIXTH. fabric of ancient belief was examined, no one of the pil- lars, on which it rested, could escape inspection. The general result was, that the whole building rested far more on the foundation of tradition, than of credible history ; but how far this foundation is secure, is a ques- tion, 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 creations 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 how, under the circum- stances 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 vigor of youth. 1 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 1 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 Lycurgus, whose laws were given about the year 880, introduced his poems into Sparta, he cannot be much younger. We must leave to others the prosecution of thee inquiries. HOMER. THE EPIC POETS. HI to conceive, that in a country highly favored by nature ; external circumstances could afford the poet many facili- ties, 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 departed. 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 na- tional poems. Before that time, the heroes of the seve- ral tribes had been of importance to none but their tribe ; but those who were distinguished in the common under- taking 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 a Demodocus, though the subjects of them were taken from that war, were but the first essays, which died away, as the ancient songs have done, which commemorated the exploits of the crusaders. 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 im- proved in this age. Although neither all its words nor its phrases were limited in their use by strict grammati- 112 CHAPTER SIXTH. cal 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 almost 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 extremely simple. 1 The language voluntarily sub- mitted to the poet ; and there never was a tongue, in which inspiration could have poured itself forth with more readiness 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 favorable to him ; although the elevated creations of his mind must continue to appear wonderful. There are two things, which in modern times appear most remark- able 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 works of such extent could have been finished and preserved, without the aid of writing. With regard to the first point, criticism has endeavored to show, and has succeeded in showing, that these poems, especially the Iliad, have by no means that perfect unity which they were formerly believed to possess ; that rather many whole pieces have been interpolated or an- nexed to them ; and there hardly exists at present an inquiring scholar, who can persuade himself, that we possess them both in the same state, in which they came from the hands of the poet. But notwithstanding the 1 How much easier it must have been to make extemporaneous verses in that measure, than in the otttira r'nna of the Italians. And yet the Italian wears its shackles with the greatest ease. HOMER. THE EPIC POETS. 113 more or less frequent interpolations, each has but one primary action ; which, although it is interrupted by fre- quent 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. 1 Herodotus did something similar in the depart- ment of history. We mid it still more difficult to comprehend how works of this extent could have been planned and ex- ecuted without the aid of letters, and preserved, probably for a long time, till they were finally saved from perish- ing 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 exclusively to this busi- ness, could easily preserve in memory much more ; that the poems were recited in parts, and therefore needed to 1 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 answered 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 Odyssey could not be recited at a banquet. But there were public festivals and assemblies which lasted many days, and Herodo- tus read aloud the nine books of his history, in a succession of days at Olympia. The Iliad and Odessey, 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 permitted to indulge in conjecture, why may they not have been designed for such occasions ? That the Greeks were accustomed to intel- lectual 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 grandeur arid beauty. 15 114 CHAPTER SIXTH. be remembered only in parts ; and that even in a later age, when the Homeric poems had already been entrust- ed 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 Calmucks is said to surpass the poems of Homer in length, as much as it stands beneath them in merit ; x and yet it exists only in the memory of a people, which is not unacquaint- ed with writing. But the songs of a nation are probably the last things which are committed to writing, for the very reason that they are remembered. 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 important fact is, that we possess them. Whatever hypothesis \ve may adopt on their origin and formation, their influence on the Grecian nation and on posterity remains the same. And these are the topics which claim our regard. 1 See on this subject B. Bergmann, Nomadische, Strcifereyen unter den Kal- mycken. B. 2, S. 213, &c. This Calmuck Homer flourished in the last century. He is said to have sung three hundred and sixty cantos; but this number may bo e\arr. s THE PERSIAN WARS AND THEIR CONSEQUENCES. 151 but absolutely essential to the attainment of the object proposed. The security of the Greeks against the attacks of the Persians depended on it ; and so too did the con- tinuance of the confederacy. We cannot acquit Athens of the charge of having afterwards abused her naval su- periority ; but he who considers the nature of such alli- ances and the difficulty of holding them together, will concede, that in practice it would be almost impossible to avoid the appearance of abusing such a supremacy ; since the same things which to one party seem an abuse, in the eyes of the other are only the necessary means to secure the end. When the sea was made secure, and no attack was farther to be feared from the Persians, how could it be otherwise, than that the continuance of the war, and consequently the contributions made for that purpose, should be to many of them unnecessarily oppressive ? And how could it be avoided, that some should feel them- selves injured, or be actually injured in the contributions exacted "of them. The consequences of all this were, on the one side a refusal to pay the contributions, and on the other, severity in collecting them ; J and as they con- tinued to be refused, this was considered as a revolt, and wars followed with several of the allies ; at first with the island Naxos; 2 then with Thasus, 3 with Samos, 4 and others. 5 But those who had been overcome, were no 1 "The Athenians," says Thucydides, i. 90, "exacted the contributions with severity ; and were the more oppressive to the allies, as these were unaccustomed to oppression." But if the Athenians had not insisted on the payment of them with severity, how soon would the whole confederacy have fallen into ruin. 2 Thucyd. i. 98. 3 Thucyd. i. 100. 101. 4 Thucyd. i. 11G. 5 The difference of the allies, andalso the view taken by the Athenians of their supremacy, and of the oppression, with which they were charged, are nowhere 152 CHAPTER EIGHTH. longer treated as allies, but as subjects ; and thus the re- lation of Athens to the several states was different ; for a distinction was made between the voluntary confede- rates and the subjects. 1 The latter were obliged to pay in money an equivalent for the ships, which they were bound to furnish ; for Athens found it more advantageous to have its ships built in this manner, by itself. But the matter did not rest here. The sum of the yearly tribute, fixed under Pericles at four hundred and sixty talents, was raised by Alcibiades 2 to six hundred. When, during the Peloponnesian war, Athens suffered from the want of money, the tribute was changed into duties of five per centum on the value of all imported articles, col- lected by the Athenians in the harbors of the allies. 3 But the most oppressive of all was perhaps the judiciary power, which Athens usurped over the allies ; not merely in the differences, which arose between the states, but also in private suits. 4 Individuals were obliged to go to Athens to transact their business, and in consequence, to the great advantage of the Athenian householders, inn- keepers, and the like, a multitude of foreigners were con- more clearly developed, than in the speech of the Athenian ambassador in Ca- marina. Thucyd. vi. 83, etc. " The Chians," says he, " and Methymnseans (in Lesbos) need only furnish ships. From most of the others, we exact the tribute with severity. Others, though inhabitants of islands, and easy to be taken, are yet entirely voluntary allies, on account of the situation of their islands round the Peloponnesus." 1 The itriiii oil 01 and the r '-rci'xoot, both of whom were still bound to pay the taxes, (r.-iuniii't). Manso, in his acute illustration of the Hcgcmonia, Sparta B. iii. lieylagc J2. 13 distinguishes three classes; those who contributed ships, but no money ; those who contributed nothing but money; and those who were at once subject 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. " Plutarch. Op. ii. p. 535. 3 Thucyd. vii. 28. 4 See, upon this subject, Xenoph. de Rep. A then. Op. 694. ed. Leunclav. THE PERSIAN WARS AND THEIR CONSEQUENCES. 153 stantly 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 incon- ceivable want of forethought, an attempt might have justly been expected from them ; and that period was the close of the war with Persia. 1 The Greeks framed their articles in the treaty of peace ; and had nothing farther to fear from the Persians. The whole object of the confederacy 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, vo- luntarily to restore to the allies their liberty. But this question will hardly be put by a practical statesman. 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 lie made 1 In the year 449 before Christ; be it that peace was formally concluded or not. 20 154 CHAPTER EIGHTH. it, could he have carried it through ? Would he not 7 O rather have ensured his own downfall ? There are ex- amples 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, 1 in his celebrated accusation of the dominion of the sea ; 2 which he considered as the source of all the misery of Athens and of Greece. The views which he entertained were certainly just ; but the evils proceeded from the abuses ; and it were just as easy to show, that his celebrated Athens, but for that domi- nion, 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 ap- peared as the deliverer of Greece ; how the rule of these deliverers, much worse than that of the first oppressors, inflicted on Greece wounds, which were not only deep, but incurable ; in general, the causes which produced the ruin of that country, remain for investigation in one of the later chapters, to which we must make our way through some previous researches. 1 We shall bo obliged to recur frequently to Isocrates. It is impossible to read the venerable and aged orator, who was filled with the purest patriotism which a Grecian could feel, without respecting and loving him. But he was a political writer, without being a practical statesman ; and, like St. Pierre and other excel- lent men of the same class, he believed much to be possible which was not so. The historian must consult him with caution. This panegyrist of antiquity often regnrdfd it in too advantageous a light, and is, besides, little concerned about the accuracy of his historical delineations. z Isocrat. Op. p. 172. ed. Steph. CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN STATES. 155 CHAPTER IX. 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 investigation seems the more essential, as, in the obvious impossibility of analyzing each one of them, it will throw light on those, which may hereafter be selected for particular descrip- tion. 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 pub- lic 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 Gre- cians, 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 them- selves. 156 CHAPTER NINTH. If the remark, which we made above, 1 that the Gre- cian states, with few exceptions, were cities with their districts, and their constitutions, therefore, the constitu- tions of cities ; if this remark needed to be farther con- firmed, it could be done by referring to the fact, that the Greeks designate the ideas of state and of city, by the same word. 2 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 com- mon 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' war, before they were limited in the free- dom of their movements by the vicinity of more power- ful monarchical 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, 1 An attempt, to collect and arrange the separate accounts has been made by F. W. Tittman. His work on the Grecian Constitutions proves his industry, and the paucity of the accounts that have come down to us. 2 Jliif.ii, chiUis. Respecting the meaning of TIU/.IS, and the difference be- tween .(o/.ij and ti'tu;, state and nation, consult Aristot. Polit. Op. ii. p. 235. ed. C'asaub. CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN STATES. 157 if we add, that the extent of territory 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 or Nu- remberg ; but in Greece as in Germany, the prosperity of the city did not depend on the extent of its territory. Corinth hardly possessed 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 here- after), they all coincided in one grand point. They all \vere 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 politicians, 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 ope- ration. 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 ' Aristot. Polit. Op. ii. p. 251, 2S2, The magistrates must be responsible for their administration, i-niv&vroi as the Greeks expressed it. 158 CHAPTER NINTH. and morality, is in this sense an object of the state, just as it should be of the individual. If with these previous reflections we proceed to in- vestigate the laws of the Greeks, they will present them- selves to our vie\v in their true light. The constitutions of their cities, like those of the moderns, were framed by necessity, and developed by circumstances. 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 appearance, much before the spirit of speculation had been occupied on the subject of politics. The objects therefore of those lawgivers, were altogether practical ; and, without the knowledge of any philo- sophical system, they endeavored 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, ac- cording to the phrase now in vogue, the framers of a new constitution. In giving laws, they only reformed. Lycur^us, Solon, and the rest, so far from abolishing what, usage had established, endeavored to preserve every thing which could be preserved ; and only added, in part, several new institutions, and in part made for the existing ones better regulations. If we possessed therefore the whole of the laws of Solon, we should by CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN STATES. 159 no means find them to contain a perfect constitution. But to compensate for that, they embraced, not only the rights of individuals, but also morals, in a much higher degree, than the latter can be embraced in the view of any modern lawgiver. The organization of private life, and hence the education of youth, 1 on which the preva- lence and continuance of good morals depend, formed one of their leading objects. They were deeply con- vinced, that that moral person, the state, would other- wise be incapable of governing itself. To this it must be added, that in these small commonwealths, in these towns with their territories, many regulations could be made and executed, which could not be put into opera- tion 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 lawgivers were accustomed to regard the art of regulating the state, and the means of preserving and directing it. 2 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 desig- nated by the names of Aristocracies and Democracies ; and to one of those two classes, they referred all their constitutions. But it is not easy to draw a distinct line 1 Aristot. Polit. Op. ii. p. 301, 33G. 8 This taken together, forms what the Greeks called political science 160 CHAPTER NINTH. between the two. When we are speaking of the mean- ing which they bore in practical politics, we must beware of taking them in that signification, which was afterwards given them by the speculative politicians, by Aristotle 1 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 the democratic constitution was, that all citizens, as such, should enjoy equal rights in the administration of the state ; arid yet a perfect equality existed in very few of the cities. This equality was commonly limited to a participation in the popular assem- blies and the courts. 2 A government did not cease to be a democracy, though the poorer class were entirely ex- cluded from all magistracies, and their votes of less weight in the popular assemblies. On the other hand, an aris- tocracy always presupposed exclusive privileges of indi- vidual classes or families. But these were very different and various. There were hereditary aristocracies, where, as in Sparta, the highest dignities continued in a few families. But this was seldom the case. It was com- monly the richer and more distinguished class, which ob- tained the sole administration of the state ; and it was either wealth, or birth, or both together, that decided. 3 1 If here, in investigating the practical meaning of those words, we can make no use of the the (retinal d> finition.s of Aristotle in his Politics, we would not by [( the right of citing him as of authority in the history of the is, in so far as he himself speaks of them. And whose tesli- hjects deserves more weight than that of the man. who, in a mfortunately been lost, described and analyzed all the known it of his time, two hundred and fifty-five in number. a Aristot. Polit. in. 1. 3 Aristot. Polit. iv. 5. CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN STATES. 161 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 means were sufficient, consti- tuted the cavalry of the citizens ; and these formed the richer part of the soldiery, which consisted only of citi- zens or militia. It is therefore easy to understand, how it was possible that the circumstance, whether the dis- trict of a city possessed much pasture land, could have had so much influence, in practical politics, on the forma- tion of the constitution. 1 It was therefore these nobles, the Eupatriche and Optimates, who, though they did not wholly exclude the people from a share in the legislation, endeavored to secure to themselves the magistracies, and the seats in the courts of justice ; and wherever this was the case, there was what the Greeks termed an aris- tocracy. 2 In cities, where w r ealth is for the most part measured 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. 3 In an age, when there were much fewer mechanic profes- sions, and when those few were carried on chiefly by slaves, the consequences of this inequality were much 1 Aristotle cites examples of it in Erctria, Chalcis, and other cities. Polit. iv. 3. 2 Oligarchy was distinguished from this. But though both words were in use, no other line can be drawn between them, than the greater or smaller num- ber of Optimates, who had the government in their hands. That this remark is a true one appears from the definitions, to which Aristotle, Polit. iii. 7, is obliged to have recourse, in order to distinguish them. 18 This was the case in Thurii, Aristot. Polit. v. 7. 21 162 CHAPTER NINTH. more oppressive ; and it was therefore one of the chief objects of the lawgivers, either to prevent this evil, or, where it already existed, to remedy it ; as otherwise a revolution of the state would sooner or later have inevi- tably followed. 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 in- heritance and of marriage f why a limit was fixed to the amount of land, which a single citizen could possess. 3 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 im- ' portant. He w ? ho does not possess it, may perhaps live in the city under certain conditions, and enjoy the pro- tection of its laws ; 4 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 regu- lations, therefore, respecting sharing in the right of citi- zenship, were necessarily strict ; but they were very different in the several Grecian cities. In some, the full privileges of citizenship were secured, if both the parents had been citizens ; 5 in others, it was necessary to trace 1 As in Sparta, by the laws of Lycurgus. 2 As in Sparta, and also among the Locrians, Aristot. Polit. ii. 7. 3 Aristot. 1. c. 1 These uirmxm, hiquilini, were formed in almost all the Grecian cities. It was common for them to pay for protection, and to bear other civil burdens. As, for example, at Athens. CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN STATES. 163 such a descent through two or three gen rations - l whilst in others, no respect was had, except to the descent from the mother. 2 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 circum- stances not unfrequently decided ; and the same city was sometimes compelled to exchange its early and severe principles, for milder ones, if the number of the ancient citizens came to be too small. 3 In colonies, the milder principles were of necessity followed ; since there might arrive from the mother country a whole company of new emigrants, 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. 4 In free cities, the constitution and the administration are always connected in an equally eminent degree with the division of the citi/ens. But here again we find a vast difference among the Greeks. We first notice those states, which made a distinction 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 1 As in Larissa. Aristot. Polit. iii. 2. So too in Massilia. 2 Aristot. Polit. iii. 5. 2 Tims at Athens, Clisthenes received a large number of foreigners into the class of citizens. Aristot. iii. 2. 4 Examples of it at Sybaris, Thurium, Byzantium, and other places, are cited Aristotle, Polit. v. 3. 164 CHAPTER NINTH. rest of their countrymen stood in a subordinate relation to them; 1 whilst in others there was no distinction of rights between the one and the other. 2 The other di- visions of the citizens were settled partly by birth, ac- cording to the ward to which a man happened to belong ; 3 partly from his place of residence, according to the dis- trict in which he resided ; 4 and partly from property or the census, according to the class in which he was reck- oned. 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 w 7 here they at least were not generally introduced. There is no need of mentioning how important was the difference in for- tune ; as the proportion of the public burden to be borne by each one was decided according to his w : ealth ; and the kind of service to be required in war, whether in the cavalry or the infantry, and whether in heavy or light armor, 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 (f-xxA/,^) was founded. These assem- blies, which were a natural result of city governments, were, according to the views of the Greeks, so essential an institution, tint they probably existed in every Gre- cian city, though not always under the same regulations. Yet the manner in which they were held in every city 1 Hence in Lacnnia, the difference between Spartans and Lacedaemonians, (.Tfo-'o/xoi). So alsn in Crete and in Arijos. - .s at. Athens. 3 Acf-.nrdino- to the ifu.at, (or wards.) 1 According to the (Vi,'0(, (or cantons.) CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN STATES. 165 except Athens and Sparta, is almost wholly unknown to us. The nature of the case required, that the manner in which they were to be held, should every where be estab- lished by rule. It was the custom to give to but one magistrate, the right of convoking and opening them. 1 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 citizens had the right of voting, or whether a certain census was first requisite. 2 In most of the cities, regular assemblies on fixed days, and extraordinary meetings also, appear to have been held. 3 To attend was regarded as the o 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. 4 It may easily be sup- posed, that the decisions were expressed in an established form, written down and preserved, and sometimes en- graved 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 impor- tant 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 1 In the heroic age, it was the privilege of the kings to convoke the assembly. See above, in the fourth chapter. 2 That a great variety prevailed in this respect, is clear from Aristot. Polit. iv. 13. 3 This was the c-ise in Athens and Sparta. 4 This is the case, says Aristotle, Polit. iv. 13, in the oligarchic, or aristocrat- ical cities; while on the contrary, in the democratic, the poor were well paid for appearing in the assemblies. 166 CHAPTER NINTH. the constitution has taken at a certain period ; whether the power of the senate, or of certain magistrates pre- ponderates. 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 peo- ple, and sometimes not. No less considerable difference prevailed in the Grecian cities. Yet writers are accus- tomed to comprehend the subjects belonging to the com- mon assemblies in three grand classes. 1 The first em- braces legislation ; for what the Greeks called a law (w), 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 magis- trates. 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 bv the popular courts of justice, which, as we shall hereafter take occasion to show, were of the high- est importance as a support of the democracy. The consequences which the discussion and the deci- sion of the most important concerns in the assemblies of the whole 1 commons must inevitably have had, are so naturally suggested, that they hardly need to be illus- trated at large. How could it have escaped those law- givers, that; to entrust this unlimited power to the com- mons, was not much less than to pave the way for the 1 The chief passage on this subject is in Aristot. Polit. iv. 14. CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN STATES. 167 rule of the populace, if we include under that name the mass of indigent citizens. 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 as- semblies. 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 per- sonally 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 con- sideration 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 legislative 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. Aristotle ex- pressly remarks, 1 that there were cities, in which no 1 Aristot. Polit. iii. 1. A similar regulation existed in several German impe- rial 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 regretted, that Aristotle has cited no Grecian city as an example. 168 CHAPTER NINTH. 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 democracies, means 1 were taken, partly to have the important business trans- acted in smaller divisions, before the commons came to vote upon it ; partly to limit the subjects, which were to be brought before them ; partly to reserve the revisipn, if not of all, yet of some of the decrees, to another peculiar board ; and partly, and most frequently, to name another deliberate assembly, whose duty it was to con- sider 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 proposed. This assembly was called by the Greeks, a council (.?o (/.;). We are acquainted with its internal regulations onlv at Athens : but there is no reason to doubt, that in several Grecian states, a similar assembly existed under the same name. 2 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 annu- ally chosen ; its members, taken after a fixed rule from each of the corporations, were chosen by lot ; but they could not become actual members without a previous examination. For in no case was it. of so much im- portance as here, to effect the exclusion of all but honest men : who, being themselves interested in the preserva- tion of the state and its constitution, might decide on the See in proof what follows, Aristot. Polit. iv. 14, Op, ii. p. 2SG. As at Argos and Mantinea. Thucyd. v. 47. So too in Chios. Thucyd. viii. 1 !. CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN STATES. 169 business presented to them, with prudence and modera- tion. In Athens at least, the greatest pains were taken with the internal organization of this body ; so that it seems to us, as will appear from the investigations re- specting 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 simi- lar wants and circumstances prevailed. It is easy to perceive, that the preservation of the internal liberties of such a body against the encroachments of parties and too powerful individuals, made such regulations essential. It was probably to promote this end, that the appoint- ments to the council were made only for the year. 1 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 distinguished 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 (-/fWLw), which had no periodical change of its members, but formed a permanent board. Its very name expresses that it was composed of the elders ; and what was more natural, than to look for good counsel to the experience of maturity ? The rule respecting age may have been very different in the several cities, and perhaps in many no rule on the subject existed. But in others, it was enforced with rigorous accuracy. The immediate object was to have in it a board of counsel ; 1 This explains why Aristotle. Polit. iv, 15, calls the Soul^ an institution favorable to the form of government. 170 CHAPTER NINTH. but its sphere of action was by no means so limited. In Sparta, the assembly of elders had its place by the side of the kings. The senate of Corinth is mentioned under the same name ;* that of Massilia 2 under a different one, but its members held their places for life ; and in how many other cities may there have been a council of elders, of which history makes no mention, just as it is silent respecting the internal regulations in those just enumerated. 3 Even in cities which usually had no such senate, an extraordinary one was sometimes appointed in extraordinary cases, where good advice was needed. This took place in Athens after the great overthrow in Sicily. 4 Besides an assembly of citizens, or town meeting, and a senate, a Grecian city had its magistrates. Even the ancient politicians were perplexed to express with accu- racy, the idea of magistrates. 5 For not all to whom public business was committed by the citizens, could be called magistrates ; for otherwise the ambassadors and priests would have belonged to that class. In modern constitutions, it is not seldom difficult to decide, who 1 Plutarch, Op. ii. p. 177. 2 Strabo, iii. p. T24. J There was perhaps no one Grecian city, in which such a council did not exist, for the nature of thing's made it almost indispensable. They were most commonly called 5 or/.?- and -'fnorn'm, and these words may often have been con- founded. For although the ^oi;/.), in Athens was a body chosen from the citizens but for a year, and the ytooi o/u of Sparta was a permanent council, we cannot safely infer, that the terms, when used, always implied such a difference. In Crete, e. g. the council of elders was called (Sou/.?;, according to Aristot. Polit. ii. ]0, thousrh in its organization it resembled the -/tooi/oia of Sparta. 4 Thucyd. viii. i. 5 See. on this subject, Aristot. Polit. iv. 15. The practical politicians, no less than the theorists, were perplexed in defining the word. An important passage may be found in .-Eschin. in Ctesiphont. iii. p. 397, &c., Reisk. CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN STATES. 171 ought to be reckoned in the number of magistrates, as will be apparent from calling to mind the inferior officers. But no important misunderstanding can arise, if we are careful to afiix to the word the double idea of possessing a part of the executive power ; and of gaining, in conse- quence 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 neces- sary to call every magistrate to account respecting the affairs of his office. 1 He who went beyond this rule, ceased to be a magistrate and became a tyrant. The magistrate was therefore compelled to recognise the sove- reignty 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 estab- lished, there were some states, in which separate boards, as that of the Ephori in Sparta, usurped the right of call- ing the magistrates to account. 2 In the inquiry respecting magistrates, says Aristotle, 3 several questions are to be considered : How many ma- gistrates 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 ? and how t These are ques- tions, which of themselves show, that republican states are had in view ; and which lead us to anticipate that 1 They were of necessity r.-rei'^vrot. Aristot. Polit. ii, 12. 2 There were magistrates appointed on purpose, called trfduvoAoyiffrai. Aris- tot. Polit. vi. 8. 3 Aristot. Polit. iv. 15. 172 CHAPTER NINTH. 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 constitu- tions, it cannot be doubted, that their leading principle was, that all magistrates must be appointed by the peo- ple. The right of choosing the magistrates, was always regarded, and justly regarded, as an important part of the freedom of a citizen. 1 But although this principle was predominant, it still had its exceptions. There were states, in which the first offices were hereditary in certain families. 2 But as we have already taken occasion to ob- serve, 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 me- thod, which not unfrequently commits to chance, the appointment to the first and most weighty employments in the state. But even in several of the German impe- rial towns, the lot had an important share in the appoint- ment to offices. It is uninfluenced by favor, birth, and wealth. And therefore the nomination of magistrates by lot. was considered by the Grecian politicians as the surest characteristic of a democracy. 3 But where the appointment was left to be decided by that method, the decision was not always made solely bv it. He on CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN STATES. 173 whom the lot fell, could still be subjected to a severe examination, and very frequently was so. And where seme places were filled in this way, it was by no means pursued in the appointment to all. But in the election also, the greatest differences pre- vailed ; since sometimes all classes, and sometimes only particular ones took part in them. 1 To admit all citizens to vote, is one of the chief characteristics of a democracy ; and we know this was done not only in Athens, but in many other cities. But when the aristocratic and demo- cratic party had once become distinct, endeavors were almost inevitably made to exclude the mass of the people from any share in the elections. For the aristocrat found nothing more humiliating, than to approach the common citizen as a suppliant, before he could arrive at places of honor. Where the first step succeeded, the second soon followed : and the magistrates themselves supplied any vacant places in their board. This, says Aristotle, 2 is the peculiar mark of oligarchy, and leads almost always to revolutions in the states. And who was eligible to office? This question is still more important, than that respecting the electors ; and an equally great difference prevailed on this point in the various states. The maxim, that men, to whom the con- trol of the public affairs should be committed, must not only possess sufficient capacity, but must also be interest- ed in the support of existing forms, is so obvious, that the principle of excluding the lower orders of the people from participating in the magistracies, could hardly seem otherwise than judicious and necessary. 3 But when it ' Aristotle, 1. c. classifies these varieties. 2 Aristot. 1. c. 3 That not only Solon, but other lawgivers had adopted this regulation, is re- marked by Aristotle, Polit. iii. 11. 174 CHAPTER NINTH. was adopted, it could seldom be preserved. When a state became flourishing and powerful, the people felt it- self to be of more importance ; ! and it was not always fl ittery of the populace, which in such times induced its leaders to abolish those restrictive laws, but a conviction of the impossibility of maintaining them. In an individual case, such an unlimited freedom of choice can become very injurious ; but it is, on the whole, much less so, than it appears to be ; and the restrictions are apt to be- come pernicious. If it be birth, which forms the limiting principle, if a man must belong to certain families in order to gain an office, it would be made directly impos- sible for men of talents to obtain them ; and this has often produced the most violent revolutions. If fortune be made the qualification, 2 this is in itself no criterion of desert. If it be age, want of energy is too often con- nected with riper experience. In most of the Grecian cities, there certainly existed a reason, why regard should be had to wealth; because that consisted almost always in real estate. But where the poor were excluded by no restrictive laws, they were obliged of their own accord, to retire from most of the magistracies. These offices were not lucrative ; on the contrary, considerable expenses were often connected with them. 3 There were no fixed salaries, as in our states ; and the prospect, which in Rome in a later period was so inviting to the magistrates, the administration of a province, did not exist in Greece. It was therefore impossible for the poorer class to press forward with 1 See. on this subject also. Aristot. 1. c. - ,M;mv pliire-s in Arist.otle show, that this was the case in a large number of cities; and under the most various regulations ; e. g. iv. 11. 3 As for banquets, public buildings, festivals, &.c. Aristot. Polit. vi. 8. CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN STATES. 175 eagerness to these offices ; in many cities there even ex- isted a necessity of imposing a punishment, if the person elected would not accept the office committed to him. 1 It was far more the honor and the glory, than the gain, which gave a value to the magistracies. But the honor of being the first, or one of the first, among his fellow- citizens, is for many a more powerful excitement, than that which can be derived from emolument. In small republics, no other fear needs be entertained respecting the offices of magistrates, than lest certain families should gain the exclusive possession of them. This is what the Greeks meant by an oligarchy, 2 when the number of such families remained small. These were with justice regarded as a corruption of the consti- tutions. There may have been exceptions, and we find in history examples, both within and without Greece, where such states have been administered with modera- tion and wisdom. But more frequently experience has shown the contrary result. The precautions taken against this evil by the Grecians, were the same with those adopted in many of the German imperial towns ; persons connected by blood, as father and son, or several brothers, could not at the same time be magistrates. 3 Connections by marriage are nowhere said to have ex- cluded from office ; on the contrary, it would be easier to find examples of brothers-in-law filling magistracies at the same time. 4 Most of the magistrates were chosen annually ; many 1 Aristot. Polit. iv. 9. ' 2 Not only Aristot. iv. G, but many passages in Thucydides ; as, e. g. viii. 82. 3 It was so in Massilia and in Cnidus. Aristot. Polit. v. 6. 4 As Agesilaus and Pisander in Sparta. 176 CHAPTER NINTH. for but half a year. 1 This frequent renewal had its ad- vantages, and also its evils. It is the strongest pillar of the rule of the people ; which is by nothing so much confirmed, as by the frequent exercise of the right of election. This was the point of view taken by the poli- ticians of Greece, when they considered the authority of the people to reside in the elections. 2 That these fre- quent elections did not tend to preserve internal tranquil- lity, is easy to be perceived. But on the other side, the philosopher of Stagira has not failed to remark, that the permanent possession of magistracies might have led to discontent. 3 An enumeration of the different magistracies usual among the Greeks, is not required by our purpose ; neither would it be possible, as our acquaintance with the several constitutions of the cities is incredibly limited. 4 The little that we know of the regulations in the indi- vidual states, especially in Athens, proves that the num- ber of such offices was very considerable ; and the same appears from the classification, which Aristotle has at- tempted to make of them. 5 Their duties are commonly indicated by their names ; but these again were entirely different in the various cities ; even in cases where the duties were the same. The Cosmi were in Crete, what the Ephori were in Sparta. Most, of the cities must have had a magistrate like the Archons in Athens ; and yet it Mould not be easy to find the name in anv other. The numerous encroachments made by the lawgivers on 1 Ari-io!.. Polit iv. 15. - Thucyd. viii. -!*. ^ Arisfit. Polit. ii. .">. 1 See Tittinan on the Grecian Constitutions. '' See the instructive passage, Polit. iv. 15. CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN STATES. 177 domestic life, contributed much to multiply the offices of magistrates and extend their sphere of action. The Grecians had formed no idea of a police, as a general branch of the administration of the state ; but they were acquainted with several of its branches ; and although they had no general board of police, the circumstances just mentioned led them to establish several particular branches ; and even some, which are not usual in our times. The superintendence of women, the superin- tendence of children, was in many cities entrusted to particular magistrates ;' and as the Areopagus of Athens had in general the care of morals, there were undoubt- edly similar tribunals in other Grecian cities. Thus then it appears, that amidst an almost infinite variety of forms, assemblies of the citizens, senates, and magistracies, are the institutions which belonged to every Grecian commonwealth. The preservation of freedom and equality among the commons, 2 formed their chief object. It was not considered unjust to take from any one, of whom it was only feared that he might become dangerous to this freedom, the power of doing injury, by a temporary banishment from the city; and this took place at Athens and Argos 3 by ostracism, and by petalism in Syracuse. Nothing can be more jealous, than the love of liberty ; and unfortunately for mankind, experience shows but too clearly, that it has reason to be so. Nevertheless, neither these, nor other precautions were able to save the Grecian cities from the usurpations of tyrants, as they were termed. Few cities, in the 1 The yvraixoriiuoi and the /ranJovt^ioi. Aristot. 1. c. * The aiToioiua and laovo^iia. J Aristot. Polit. v. 3. 23 178 CHAPTER NINTH. mother country, and in the colonies, escaped this fate. The Grecians connected with this word the idea of an illegitimate, but not necessarily of a cruel government. It was illegitimate, because it was not conferred by the commons ; but usurped without, or even against their will. A demagogue, however great his power may have been, was never, as such, denominated a tyrant ; but he received the name, if he set himself above the people ; that is, if he refused to lay before the people the account which was due to them. 1 The usual support of such an authority, is an armed power, composed of foreigners and hirelings ; which was therefore always regarded as the sure mark of a tyrant. 2 Such a government by no means necessarily implied, that the existing regulations and laws would be entirely set aside. They could con- tinue ; even an usurper needs an administration ; only he raises himself above the laws. The natural aim of these tyrants usually was, to make their power hereditary in their families. But though this happened in many cities, the supreme power was seldom retained for along time by the same family. It continued longest, says Aristotle, 3 in the house of Orthagoras in Sicyon, for as it was very moderate and even popular, it lasted a century ; and for the same causes it was preserved about as long in the house of Cypselus in Corinth. But if it could not be maintained by such means, how could it have been kept up by mere violence and terror. Where the love of freedom is once so deeply fixed, as it was in the character of the Grecians, the attempts to oppress it only give a new impulse to its defenders. 1 By desiring to become ,Trc)t'voj. Aristot. Polit. iv. 10. See above p. xxx. 8 Aristot. Polit. iii. 14. 3 Aristot. Polit. v. 12 CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN STATES. 179 And by what criterion shall the historian, who invest- igates the history of humanity, form his judgment of the worth of these constitutions ? By that, which a modern school, placing the object of the state in the securiiy 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, and, with such consti- tutions, could have been, but imperfectly attained. In the midst of the frequent storms, to which those states were exposed, that tranquillity could not long be pre- served, in which men limit their active powers to the im- provement of their domestic condition. It does not be- long 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 im- perfect constitutions, every thing, which forms the glory of man, flourished in its highest perfection. It was those very storms, which called forth masterspirits, by opening to them a sphere of action. There was no place here for indolence and inactivity of mind ; where each indi- vidual felt most sensibly, that he existed only through the state and with the 1 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 monarchies. 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. But whatever may be thought of the value of these 180 CHAPTER NINTH. 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 hundreds of Grecian cities, perhaps there were no two, of which the constitutions were per- fectly 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 animation, 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, promotes 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 consciousness of its own value, that each came to possess an independ- ent worth. POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 181 CHAPTER X. THE POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. THE increasing wants of modern states have not only employed practical statesmen, but have led to the forma- tion 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 speculation. 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 labor, they were also less acquainted with the doctrine of the modern schools, which transforms 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 con- tempt on the state of political science among the an- cients. The chief question now agitated between theo- rists 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 illustrious Stagirite. " Many," says he, 1 " suppose wealth to consist in the abundance of 1 Aristot. Polit. i. 0. 182 CHAPTER TENTH. coined money, because it is the object of usury and com- merce. Money is of itself without value, and gains its utility only by the law ; when it ceases to be current, it loses its value, 1 and cannot be employed in the acqui- sition 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." 2 In a nation, in which private existence was subordi- nate to that of the public, the industry employed in the increase of wealth, could not gain the exclusive import- ance, 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 more elevated pursuit 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 pecuniary embarrassment was often very sensibly felt. Men learned to tread under foot the most glorious pro- ductions of mind, to trample upon the monuments of moral and intellectual greatness, before they received those theories, which assign to the great instructers of mankind in philosophy and in religion, a place in the 1 On Tf iifTK^futtcir rc'u- xqii).i<; ov 71011,011 fiuvavoov JTO/./TJ/V. 2 Phaneas of Chalcedon. Aristot. Polit. ii. 7. 3 Aristot. Polit. 1. c. 4 Aristot. Polit. iii. 4. 5 Aristot. 1. c. 24 186 CHAPTER TENTH. spectability, which they enjoy among modern nations. 1 Even in Athens, says Xenophon, 2 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, 3 " 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 condi- tion. 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 manufactures, as well as mines and lands, could be possessed 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 ; 4 and examples could be easily multiplied, from the orators and the comedian. When this circumstance is kept in view, the blame attached to the Grecian con- stitutions is, in a great measure, though not entirely re- moved. The impediments which public opinion put in the way of industry, did not so much injure those con- cerned in any large enterprise, as those engaged in the 1 Compare on this subject, first of all, Aristot. Polit. i. 11, where he analyzes and treats of the several branches of industry. " Xen. de Redit. Op. p. 9'22, Leunclav. 3 Aristot. Polit. vi. 4. 4 Demosth. adv. Aphob. Op. ii. p. 81G. POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 187 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. " All agree," says Aristotle, 1 " that in every well regu- lated state, sufficient leisure must be preserved from the wants of life for the public business ; but a difference of opinion exists as to the manner 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 citi- zens to a sort of nobility, especially where they consisted almost entirely of landed proprietors. It is true, that this class lived by the labors 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 cir- cumstance 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 be- come 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. 2 1 Aristotle ii. 9. 2 This may be the more safely asserted, because it is hardly possible to say any thing in general on the condition of slaves in Greece ; so different \v,is it at different times ; in different countries ; and even in the same country. On this subject I would refer to the following instructive work ; Geschichte und Zustand 188 CHAPTER TENTH. The free exertions of industry were in some measure 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 inconsiderable. No efforts were made 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 raw materials by way of protec- tion ;' no encouragement of manufactures at the ex- pense of the agriculturists. In this respect, therefore, there existed freedom of occupations, commerce, 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, 2 where the state for a season usurped a dcr Sclaverey und Leibeigenschaft in Griechenland. von J. F. Reitemeyer. Ber- lin, 17-!t. History and Condition of Slavery and Villanage in Greece, by J. F. Reitemeyer. 1 The exportation of articles of food, especially of corn, may have been pro- hibited nt Athens and elsewhere, when a scarcity was apprehended. Such pro- hibitions were natural, and could not well fail of being made. The remark in the text refers to prohibitions to favor domestic industry ; as of the export of unmanufactured wool. This explanation i ; ; in answer to the remarks of Pro- fessor Boeekh in his work on the Public Economy of the Athenians, i. 56. 9 - Aristot de Re Famil. 1. ii. POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 189 monopoly. But how far was this from the mercantile and restrictive system of the moderns ! The reciprocal influence between national economy, and that of the state, is so great and so natural, 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 ques- tions, 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 bar- ter, 1 he must necessarily have mentioned it, if he had been acquainted with it. On the other hand, we may confidently affirm on the authority of Demosthenes, that in the age of Solon, 2 coined silver money was not only known in the cities of Greece, but had been in circula- tion for a length of time ; 3 for the punishment of death 1 As for example, 11. vi. 472. Od. i. 430. 2 About GOO years before the Christian era. 3 " [ 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 counterfeits money, shall be put to death. He thought this law was made for the protection of private peisons, 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 pun- ished, than they who adulterate the coinage or introduce false money. Yea, many cities exist and flourish, although they debase their silver money with brass and lead ; but those which have bad laws, will certainly be ruined." Demosth. in Timocrat. Op. i. p. 7G3, 7G4. Compare with this what Herod. I'M. 5G, remarks of the counterfeit money, with which Polycrates is said to have cheated the Spartans. 190 CHAPTER TENTH. had already been set upon the crime of counterfeit- ing it ; Solon mentioned it as in general use throughout the Grecian cities ; and many of them had already sup- plied its place with the baser metals. The Grecian 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 year 510 B. C. The most an- cient coins of Rhegium, Croton, and Syracuse, seem from the letters in the superscriptions to be of far higher antiquity. 1 If the account that Lycurgus prohibited in Sparta, the use of money of the precious metals, is well supported, 2 we should be able to trace the history of Grecian coins to a still more remote age ; and this opin- ion is corroborated at least by the narration of the Parian chronicle, 3 that Phidon of Argos in the year 631 (i. e. 895 years B. C.) iirst began to coin silver in the island of -/Eg ina. But although we cannot at present trace the history of coined money in Greece any farther, 4 we may from the preceding observations infer one general conclusion ; the founding of colonies and the intercourse kept up with 1 Fkhel. Ocrtrina Numorrm Yetcrum. i. p. 170 177. 2-42. Plutarch, in Lycurg. Op. i. p. 177. His code is computed to have been given about 8~0 years 15. C. 5 Marinor Parium. Ep. xxxi. cf. Strabo viii. p 5G3. This was about 15 years before the legislation of Lycuruus. It might, therefore, not without probability be supposed, that Lycurgus wished and was able to prohibit money of the pre- cious metals, because it at that time wasjust beginning to circulate in Greece. 4 Compare Wachte-ri Archa-ologia Numrnaria. Lips. 1740; and the introduc- tory inquiries in KUhel. D. Ps. V". POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 191 them, caused coined money to be introduced and exten- sively used in Greece. Before their foundation, the Greeks knew nothing of coined money. When money was first coined in ^Egina, the colonies of Asia Minor and of Magna Graecia 1 were already established and flour- ishing ; and we are expressly informed, that money was coined in that island, in order to carry on commerce be- yond the sea. 2 It cannot 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, 3 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, 4 ) and that the most flourishing Gre- cian colonies were situated on the Lydian coasts, we cannot but find it highly probable, that the Greeks re- ceived the art of 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 formed by their alliances one political body. 1 As e. g. Cumas. 2 Strabo viii. p. 577. He refers to Ephorus. 3 Herod, i. 94. 4 Nor is there any other nation, which disputes this honor with the Lydians. For the Egyptians e. g. are named without any reason. See Wachter, 1. c. cap. iv. 192 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. 1 In Hellas itself, we know of no silver mines except those of Lau- rium, which were very ancient ; 2 but the gold mines of Thrace and the neighboring 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, espe- cially in the commercial towns ; and although the Greeks knew nothing of paper money, several cities made use of the same resource, which had been introduced at Car- thage, 3 the use of nominal coins, which possessed a cur- rent value, not corresponding to their intrinsic one. 4 Such was the iron money (if my view is a just one) which was adopted in Byzantium, Clazomene, 5 and perhaps in some other cities. 6 It is certain, therefore, that the Greeks 1 Yet the ancient gold coins which we still possess, have almost no alloy, and the silver ones very little. '-' So old, that it was impossible to fix their age. Xenoph. de Redit. Op. p. 924. 3 Heeren's Ideen ii. S. 104. 4 Pollux ix. 78. 5 Aristot. OZcon. ii. Op. ii. p. 383. A decisive passage. b ' Most of the cities, says Xenophon, Op. p. 922, have money, which is not cur- rent except in their own territory ; hence merchants are obliged to barter their own wares for other wares. Athens makes a solitary exception ; its silver drachmas had universal currency. It was therefore quite common for cities to have two kinds of money, coins of nominal value, current only in the city which POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 193 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 Plato. 1 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 to- gether ? 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 magis- trates were rewarded with honor, not with a salary. The soldiers were citizens and not hirelings ; 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. And yet we find that the burdens which the citizens of those republics had to support, continued gradually to increase ; especially at the epochs of the Persian wars, and the Peloponnesian, and in the later period of Grecian liberty, they became very oppressive. States can create 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. 1 Plato 1. c. The current silver money consisted in drachmas, and pieces of money were struck of as much as four drachmas. Ekhel i. p Ixxxv. thinks it probable, that the other cities, in their silver coin, followed the Attic standard. 25 194 CHAPTER TENTH. wants, no less than individuals. Even in Greece, expe- rience 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 esti- mated by their absolute amount ; nor yet by the propor- tion 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 over- looked, that in republican states (or at least more espe- cially 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 formed. 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 modern political artists, there is no chapter, which treats of the important influence of pa- triotism and public spirit on the financial system ; proba- bly because the statistical tables have no rubric for them as sources of produce. The wants of states are partly established by their na- ture ; but 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 necessa- rily 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 different notions from ours. Many things seemed essential to them, which do not appear so to us ; many things are needed by us, of which they did not feel the necessity. POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 195 The first object with the Greek was 'the honor and splendor of his city. In that world of small republics, each wished to make itself remarkable ; each to be dis- tinguished for something. Now there were two things, which in the eyes of the Greeks, rendered a city illus- trious ; its public monuments and its festivals. These objects were therefore politically necessary, in a differ- ent 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 honored some as its guardian deities. How could these gods be left without dwelling-places ? The art of sculpture was very naturally exerted in connection with that of architecture : for the statues of the gods did not merely adorn the temples, but were indispensa- bly 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 exclusively 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 re- ligious ones. They were celebrated in honor of some god, some hero ; above all in honor of the patron deities of the place. 1 By this means, many things which we are accustomed to regard as objects of amusement, re- ceived a much more elevated character. They became 1 Menrsii Grfccia Feriata, in Gronov. Thes. Ant. Gra-c. vol. vii. is one of the richest compilations on the subject of the Grecian festivals. 196 CHAPTER TENTH. duties enjoined by religion ; which could not be neglected without injury to the honor and reputation, and even to the welfare of the city. The gods would have been in- censed ; and the accidental evils, which might have fallen on the city, would infallibly have been regarded as punishments inflicted by the gods. We need not there- fore 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. 1 Thus an almost immeasurable field was opened for public expenses of a kind, hardly known to modern states. Even in cases where the governments 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 pre- sent those states to his mind, will easily perceive how many things must have combined to increase these ex- penditures. They were prompted not by a mere regard for the honor of the state ; jealousy and envy of the other cities were of influence also. And still more is to be attributed 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 favor of the people as at Rome, (probably because what in Homo was originally voluntary, had ever been con- sidered in Greece as one of the duties and burdens of a 1 Consult what, Aristotle relates of Antissscus, Op. ii. p. 390. POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 197 citizen, which did not merit even thanks,) political ends may have often been of influence with individuals. The Grecian temples had, for the most part, posses- sions of their own, with which they met the expenses incurred in the service of the god. Their possessions consisted partly in votive presents, which, especially where the divinities of health and prophecy were adored, had been offered 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 accumulated, of more value probably than those of Loretto, or any other shrine in Europe. 1 But as they were sacred to the gods, and did not come into circulation, they were, for the most part, but unproductive 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 cred- ible, that the great stores of gold and silver, which were not wrought, should have been left entirely unemployed. But besides these treasures, the temples drew a large part of their revenue from lands ; 2 which were not un- 1 The consequences with which the profanation of the Delphic treasures in the Sacred war, wits fraught for Greece, may be learned i'rom Athen. vi. 231 , etc. * 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 territory of Lecythus, which he had conquered. Thucyd. iv. cap. 11G. It is a mistake to believe that the consecrated land must have remained uncultivated. That of Ciriha 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. 53; sometimes it was tilled ; Thucyd. iii. Gd ; but for the most part let for a rent. Whoever did not pay the rent, uomlciaEt? TOJV rcuiriw, was consid- ered destitute of honor. Demosth. in Macart. Op. ii. p. 10GO. In another pas- sage, the orator complains of the number of enemies he had made by collecting 198 CHAPTER TENTH. frequently consecrated to their service. When a new colonial city was built, it was usual to devote at once a part of its territory to the gods. 1 But although these resources were sufficient for the support of the temple, the priests, the various persons employed in the service of the temple, and perhaps the daily sacrifices, yet the in- cense 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 honor of the city, there W 7 ere 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 po- lice, etc. ; and these must certainly have been paid. 2 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 Attic state will prove to us, that the number of those who were to be paid, caused this expense to be one of the heaviest. But as the states increased in power, the greatest ex- penditures were occasioned by the military and naval establishments. These expenditures, were, for the most these vents when be was Demarch. Or. in Eubulid. Op. ii. p. 1318. Two con- tracts for similar rents have been preserved. Mazochi Tabb. lleracleens, p. 145, etc.. nnd 2~7, etc. 1 I'hto tic Leo-:, i t i}n r^n- (M/or h 1 T>| %ta'>r(. yiruulrtni'j tlTa UT> lUTtoQiotV Xfti tV KJ-COI (-)), lira > ( u.'lu ir^ir fyxvx/.ivti'. It is known from the orators, that these last are the burdens borne in turn by the rich, Afi roro; /\ an( ^ the gymnastic games (yvuraaictQ/iui). 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 POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS 205 the Grecian cities, at least in Athens, very severe meas- ures 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 manner. They could be compelled to exchange their property for the sum at which they had estimated it. 1 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 estab- lished in Athens, by the regulations of Solon. These classes presupposed an estimate of property; 2 but whether this was made in the Grecian cities as accurately as the census of the Romans, is a question which we must leave undecided. 3 The indirect taxes, by which we mean the duties paid on the importation and exportation of articles, as also on their consumption, were probably as common in the Grecian cities, as those above mentioned. The instance of the city Menda, which we have already cited, shows that they were preferred, at least in some instances to the direct taxes. Much that related to them, was decided by the situation and chief employment of the cities. The duties were naturally a much more productive source of yet the amount of the whole was previously known, with almost perfect exact- ness. 1 The ui'Ttdi'jdiig. See, on this subject, the speech of Isocrates, Op. p. 312, etc. 2 T />,iia, Demosth. in Aphob. Orat. i. Op. ii. p. 3, etc. 3 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. HOO. In the Athenian colony Potidcea, in a time of war, when money was wanting, every citizen was obliged to specify his property with exactness, and the contributions fa'rrcf ooa<) were apportioned out accordingly. He who possessed no property, xr/i/ orYU >, paid a poll tax ; his person being reckoned as a capital of two minos ('about thirty dollars), he paid the tax due on such a sum. Aristot. 1. c. 206 CHAPTER TENTH. revenue to the maritime and commercial towns, than to the cities of the interior. But where these taxes were introduced, they were a constant source of income ; while the taxes on property were each time imposed anew. From this it naturally resulted, that they were chiefly destined to meet the usual expenditures. Our knowledge of the organization of the Grecian customs, is very imperfect. Yet we cannot doubt, that duties were almost universally common. But they were most probably limited to the seaports and harbors ; in connexion with these, they are almost always mentioned j 1 I know of no instance of customs in the interior. They were, according to Aristotle, levied on imported and ex- ported articles. 2 In Athens, the customs are frequently mentioned by the orators ; in Thessaly they formed the chief source of the revenue ; 3 and they were not of less moment in Macedonia. 4 When the Athenians became the masters of the ^gean sea, they appropriated to themselves, in all subject islands, the collecting of the customs, instead of the tribute which had before been usual. 5 The same was done with the very productive customs of Byzantium, which all the commerce to the Black sea was obliged to discharge, 6 just as the commerce to the East sea has hitherto been obliged 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. 7 ' Hence the phrase iiuiras xaQTtoiafai, to collect the customs in the harbors, De- mosthen, i. 15. - Aristot. 1. c. TU tfaaytbyifttt y.ai r'u Ifdyiayi^ct. 3 Demo^th. 1. c. 4 They \vere commonly rented out in that country for twenty talents ; which sum Callistrntus knew how to double. Aristot. Op. ii. p. 393. "' Thucyd. iv. X--T. 6 Demosth. Op. i. p. 475. 7 Namelv between Byzintiurn und Rhodes. POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 207 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 principle, according to which the customs were regulated, had no- thing in view but the increase of the public revenue ; and no design was connected with them, of encouraging and directing 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 Byzan- tium, the duty was ten per cent, on the value of the wares. 1 The Athenians, on the contrary, when they imposed duties in the harbors of their allies during the Peloponnesian war, exacted only five per cent. 2 In Athens itself, there were, at least in the time of Demos- thenes, several articles which paid a duty of but two per cent. 3 To this class belonged all corn introduced into Athens ; 4 and several other objects, such as fine woollen garments and vessels of silver. 5 We distinguish in our system of finances between du- ties on importation and exportation, and taxes on domes- tic consumption. 6 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 imposed in but one very simple form. They were connected with 1 Demosth. Op. i. p. 475. 2 Thucyd. vii. 28. 3 This is the m m/xorTroAoj'o; anoyfiuyi^ the tariff of the fiftieth penny . De- mosth. in Mid. Op. i. p. 558. 4 Demosth. in Neaer. Op. ii. p. 1353. 5 Demosth. in Mid. Op. i. p. 508, enumerates several. 6 Such as the excise, licenses, etc. 208 CHAPTER TENTH. the markets. Whatever was there offered for sale, paid a duty ; and hence this duty is mentioned only with refer- ence to the markets. 1 And I find no proof, that the system of taxing consumption, was carried so far in any ancient state, as it has been in several modern countries. 2 Beside the taxes already enumerated, there were other particular ones on various articles of luxury. Thus in Lycia a tax was paid for wearing false hair; 3 in Ephesus, ornaments of gold were prohibited and the women order- ed to give them up to the state. Examples are pre- served by Aristotle, where in cases of necessity, single cities adopted various extraordinary measures, such as the sale of the public estates, 4 the sale of the privilege of citizenship, taxes on several professions and employ- ments, 5 as of soothsayers and quacks, and monopolies, of which the state possessed itself for a season. In all the Grecian cities, the indirect taxes, especially 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 In Aristot. 11. p. 383. ; ( u.-i<> T^T y.aT\i y/v it nai ir/oQalvn Tt/.(~n rrocfTo^oc. Hence the expression ; T- fV/miit; xc.nnw^cu to collect the. revenue from the mar- hctf. Denios'h. Olvnlli. i. Op. i. p. 15. - In Babylon, there existed an antiquated law which was renewed by the gov- ernor appointed by Alexander, and which required that a tithe should be paid of oven thing brought into the city. Aristot. Op. ii p. 3!'5. ; Aiistot. (Keon. ii. Op. ii. p. 38.">. 4 1'y the 1'y/antians. Aristot. 1. e. p. 3fD. That which follows is also related by him in the same place. 1 A (vencval income tax of ten per cent, on all employments, was laid by king Tnclms in l-Vypt. at the instance of Cliabrins. Aristot. 1. c p. 3''4. Though rxr-cutf'd in !>ypt. the idea was that of a Greek ; and Pitt must resign his claim to the invention of the Income tax. POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 209 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. 1 De- mosthenes 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. 2 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 po- litical science of the moderns has regarded it as one of the most important points, as the peculiar characteristic of a free constitution, that the government should not be permitted to impose taxes without the consent of the people, given directly, or by consent of its deputies. In most of the ancient republics, the same custom probably prevailed ; yet it is remarkable that no particular value was ever set upon this privilege ; and much less was it ever considered a criterion of political liberty. The whole system of taxation, we have already remarked, was not viewed from the same elevated point which is now taken ; nor can this principle be fully developed, except where the representative system is introduced. But properly speaking, the whole subject was considered by the Greeks from a very different side. Their magis- trates were bound to acknowledge the obligation of lay- ing their accounts before the people. This was the 1 See the passages cited above, which prove this. * Demosth. Op. i. p. 745. rilos TI rroi i nit.t. Aristot. 1. c. 2 In the examples which Aristot. 1. c. cites of Clazomene, Potidasa, and other places, his phrase is *i; or sometimes vtuor WEITU, which, it is well known, can be understood only of the decrees of the people. 212 CHAPTER TENTH. objects of the greatest competition ; and this alone would be sufficient to explain the changes which were made. But must not the difference of the constitutions have ex- ercised its influence ? In states, of which certain fami- lies, distinguished for their wealth and descent, had made themselves the leaders, what could be expected, but that they should obtain the management of the pub- lic money ? In the two principal cities of Greece, the most remarkable difference is perceptible. At Athens, the council of five hundred had the care of the public money ; in Sparta, this had been secured by the Ephori. A great difference may be supposed to have prevailed in the other Grecian cities ; certainly with respect to the persons who held the offices of collectors and account- ants. But we have almost no historical information respecting any place but Athens. Of all forms of government, those of free cities are perhaps the least adapted to the developing of an artifi- cial system of finances. For in them the wants, and the means of satisfying those wants, are commonly very sim- ple. Changes are difficult ; for they presuppose the consent of the commonalty. They who propose them, can hardly expect thanks ; but rather hatred, and even persecution. Hence ancient usage is preserved as much as possible ; and when extraordinary wants occur, re- course is had to extraordinary measures, concerted for the moment, rather than to any change in the existing institutions. It is different in extensive monarchies, where every thing moves more firmly and more regu- larly; and though their practice is not so much founded on scientific views as on certain maxims, still it is in them, that an artificial system of finances can be formed. JUDICIAL INSTITUTIONS. 213 CHAPTER XL THE JUDICIAL INSTITUTIONS. UNLIKE the regulations of our modern states, the judiciary department did not form in Greece a distinct, independent branch of the constitution. On the con- trary, it was so intimately connected with the rest, that it can with difficulty be made a separate object of in- vestigation. Hardly any subject in Grecian antiquities is so intricate, or so difficult of explanation ; and yet without a knowledge of it, no correct view of the an- cient states can possibly be formed. Our present object is, to develope the general character of the judical insti- tutions, without entering into particulars respecting the organization of the Attic courts. All that we have to say upon this subject, will find a place in our inquiries concerning that state. The want of accounts is the chief but not the only source of the difficulty, which attends this investigation with respect to every state but Athens. From the want of uniformity, as well as the foreign character of many of the regulations, it would be arduous to take a general survey of the subject, even if the historical documents were abundant. To gain a correct view of it, some at- tention must be paid to its history. The judicial institutions of the Greeks, were the cre- ation of time and circumstances. The form, therefore, which they eventually assumed, could not well corres- 214 CHAPTER ELEVENTH. pond to the requisitions of a theory. We are forced to content ourselves on many points with saying that it was so ; without being able to give any satisfactory reasons why it was so. The judicial institutions of a nation proceed from very simple beginnings. Where they are left to be devel- oped by circumstances and the necessities of the times, they cannot but become more and more intricate ; since with the progress of culture, new relations arise, both at home and with foreign countries. In the heroic age, kings sat on the tribunals of justice, though even then arbitrators were not unusual. There existed at that time no written laws ; questions were decided by prescription, and good common sense, directed by a love of justice. When nations begin to emerge from the rude con- dition of savages, the first necessity which is felt, is that of personal security, and next the security of prop- erty. National legislation has always commenced with the criminal code and the police laws ; the rights of citizens were defined more slowly, and at a later pe- riod ; because it was not sooner necessary. The oldest courts of justice were established very early, probably in the times of the kings. Their immediate object was to pass judgment on the crime of murder, and other heinous offences. This was the case with the Areopagus, the most ancient court with which the Greeks were acquainted ; and others were of almost as great an age. The royal governments passed away ; and the pop- ular assemblies took their place. The existing courts of justice were then by no means abolished ; although JUDICIAL INSTITUTIONS. 215 in the progress of time, and amidst the revolutions in the forms of government, they could not but undergo various modifications. In the states of modern Europe, the form of the judi- cial institutions was in a great measure the result of the form of the feudal. In the latter there were different degrees of fealty and submission ; and hence arose the principle, that no man can be tried by any but his peers. Thus a difference in the courts was necessarily produced. The immediate vassal of the crown recognised only those for his judges, who stood in the same rank with himself, and owed fealty to the same master. The freeman and the villain could not stand before the same tribunal. The same principle, that a man must be tried by his peers, prevailed among the Greeks. But its application must have produced very different results. The commu- nity consisted of citizens, who either were or claimed to be equal. It discussed all affairs relating to itself, and hence actions at law among the rest. Thus the common assembly performed the office of judges ; and the founda- tion of the popular courts of justice was laid. A political notion now prevailed, a notion never adopted in our modern constitutions ; that it was essential for a citizen to take a part in the administration of justice. Even in those of our modern states which in so many things re- semble the Grecian, the German imperial cities, this idea could never have been suggested and applied. They had adopted the laws of an ancient nation, written in an ancient language ; and to understand them, much learn- ing was required, of which not every one could be pos- sessed. It was not so in Greece. The laws were in the language of the country ; and although their number 216 CHAPTER ELEVENTH. gradually increased, they were still accessible to all. Neither was it necessary to retain them in memory, and have them always present to the mind. The orator during his speech, had a reader at his side with a copy of them. Whenever he referred to any law, it was read aloud ; as is proved by a multitude of examples in De- mosthenes and others. Every thing was, however, transacted orally. The judges were not obliged to peruse written documents ; they listened, and gave in their votes. All this appears very simple, and easy to be understood. And yet the judicial institutions of Greece, if we should form our opinion from one state, were so confused, that it is difficult for the most learned antiquarians to find their way out of the labyrinth. The greatest errors are made by those, who, forgetting that the institutions in question were not formed systematically, but practically with the progress of time, endeavor to find the means of explanation in speculative ideas. The first and most important difficulty is presented when we attempt to fix the characteristic difference be- tween the public and private courts. This difference was not only general in the existing states, but was adopted by Plato himself in his sketch of a perfect colony. 1 These two classes were so distinctly separated, that different expressions were appropriated, not only for the genera], but even the particular relations of the one and the other.- 1 Plato de Legg. L. vi. vol. iv. p. 232. - A public accusation was called j o(/-, and x a

',>' A private suit was called dtxtj, to bring an action ftn^ym- and fifUftncif nri flxi-r, to be defendant oytilfiv nvl rt/xM'. Such were the expressions at least in Athens. JUDICIAL INSTITUTIONS. 217 Certain general ideas, according to which Plato makes the distinction, lay at the bottom of this division. " One class of judicial processes," says he, 1 " is formed of the suits which one private man, complaining of injustice, brings against another. The second class, on the con- trary, is, when the state believes itself injured by one of the citizens, or when a citizen comes forward to its as- sistance." According to this explanation, nothing would seem simpler, than the difference between public and private processes. But if we compare the objects com- prehended under each of the two classes, we shall find many things enumerated as affairs of the state, which to us do not seem to belong to this class. 2 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 condi- tion 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, ac- cording to the degree of the injury ; nor was it indifferent, whether the rights of person, or only those of property had been violated. A second circumstance also had its influence ; pre- 1 Plato 1. c. 2 In Athens, e. g. there belonged to this class, besides several other offences, murder, intentional wounds, adultery, &c. The public and private processes are enumerated in Sigonius de Repub. Athen. L. iii., and may be found also in Pot- ter's Archosol. Grasc. The subject is investigated by Otto : De Atheniensium. Actionibus forensibus; Specimen 1. ch. ii. Leipsiae, Ic20. 23 218 CHAPTER ELEVENTH. scription for the most part determined what was a crime against the public, and what was but a private concern. But what had once been established by prescription, was ever after valid as a law. Yet who can discover all the causes, perhaps frequently accidental, by which various suits came to be considered in one age or another, as affairs of the public? It would be ineffectual to attempt to draw very accu- rately the line of division according to the subjects. The most numerous and the most important, but not all criminal cases were regarded as public concerns. This class embraced not merely offences against the state ; though this idea lay at the foundation. We must rather be content with saying, that prescription had caused certain offences to be regarded as public, and others as private matters. The regulations respecting them, were, however, in the Attic law very exact ; and it was firmly established, which processes belonged to the state, and which to individuals. The character of the two classes was essentially dis- tinguished by this ; that in the public affairs, a complaint might be made by any citizen ; and in the private, it could be made only by the injured person, or his nearest relation; 1 for in the one case, the state or the whole community was regarded as the injured party ; in the other, only the individual. But whoever brought the suit, it was necessary in pri- vate and public concerns for the complainant to enter his complaint before a magistrate, and definitely state the offence, which he charged against the accused. The 1 See the proofs in Sigonius, 1. c. JUDICIAL INSTITUTIONS. 219 magistrate, before whom the suit was thus commenced, was now obliged to prepare the action, so that it could be submitted to the judges. These judges were either the whole community, or some particular courts, which may perhaps be best denominated, committees of the people. For the tribunals consisted for the most part of very numerous assemblies, the members of which were selected from the citizens by lot, and were required to be thirty years old, of a good reputation, and not indebted to the state. They were sworn to do their duty ; they listened to the orators, both the accusers and the defend- ants, to whom a limited time was appointed ; the wit- nesses were examined, and the affair so far brought to a close, that the court could pronounce its sentence of guilty or not guilty. 1 In the first case, the nature of the punishment remained to be settled. Where this was fixed by law, sentence was immediately passed ; did the nature of the offence render that impossible, the defend- ant was permitted to estimate the punishment, of which he believed himself deserving ; and the court then de- cided. Those courts were therefore similar both in their organization and design to our juries ; with this differ- ence, that the latter are with us but twelve in number, while the former were not unfrequently composed of several hundreds. And this is not astonishing, for they occupied the place of the whole community, or might be regarded as committees of the same ; for when suits began to grow frequent, the community could not always be assembled. But where the members that constituted 1 This was done in Athens partly by votes written on small tablets, and partly by white and black beans. 220 CHAPTER ELEVENTH. the tribunal were so numerous, as in the Helieea at Athens, it is hardly credible, that every action was tried before the whole assembly. It is much more probable, especially when suits were multiplied, that the same court of judicature had several divisions, in which the trial of several causes could proceed simultaneously. 1 As a difference was made between private and public actions, we might expect to find different tribunals for the one and the other. Yet this was not the case; suits of both kinds could be entered in the same courts. The difference must therefore have lain in the methods of trial and the legal remedies, 2 which the two parties could employ. We are astonished to find, that the rules re- specting what suits should come before each particular court were so uncertain, that it would be vain for us to attempt to settle any general principles on the subject. But at this moment we have in England an example, which shows how vain it is to expect exact regulations, where courts of justice have been formed and enlarged by circumstances. Criminal cases, it is true, belong ex- clusively to the court of the King's Bench ; but it shares ciul actions with the court of Common Pleas, and the court of Exchequer, in such a manner, that, with few exceptions, certain classes of suits cannot be said to belong exclusively to either of these tribunals. Our remarks thus far on the organization of the courts apply immediately to Athens ; but they will, without 1 We would not say, that, nil trials were necessarily brought before those courts. In Athens the police officers had a jurisdiction of their own; and affairs belonging to their department appear to have been immediately decided by them. * As c. jr. the ;mQaynutfi i . the rncuiofjtw, and others, in the public trials. Sijjon. 1. c. iii. c. 4. JUDICIAL INSTITUTIONS. 221 doubt, admit of a much wider application to the other Grecian cities. Yet on one point there existed a re- markable difference. Though the popular tribunals were generally introduced, they did not prevail in every state. For if I understand Aristotle rightly, there were no pop- ular tribunals in Sparta, but all processes were there, as in Carthage, decided by magistrates. 1 If Sparta had had such courts, would they not have been mentioned ? But when Aristotle says in general, that it is the leading characteristic of a democracy, that the citizens should be the judges of one another, 2 may we not infer, and is it not evident from the nature of things, that popular tri- bunals disappeared, wherever the sway of the few was established ? The example of Athens shows in a remarkable man- ner, how the institution of these popular tribunals could affect the whole character of a state. Such could be the case in Athens, where the greatest extent was given to the public trial?, by permitting any who desired, to ap- pear as accusers. The whole organization of the Gre- cian city governments leads us to believe, that most of the other cities had popular tribunals, which, without having exactly the same form, must have been similar to those of Athens. Such tribunals must have existed in Argos, before the introduction of ostracism, and in Svra- cuse before the similar method of banishment by petal- ism came into vogue. But whether the public processes 1 Aristot. Polit. ii. 11. xal TV; Sixuf ''.TO ri~>v ao^fivn 1 3ixu*cnPat Tiitna:, x l a/./c rn' w/./oiv, oirrrrfo M- duxtduliiirt'i. Is dixd? in this passage to be understood of all suits at law, or, according to the more strict use of the word, only of pri- vate suits ? 2 Aristot. Polit. vi. 2. CHAPTER ELEVENTH. 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 on 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 pos- sibility 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 corruption, to understand how Athens, after the Peloponnesian war, could teem with the brood of sycophants, against whom the ora- tors are so loud in their complaints ; and whom all the measures, first adopted in consequence of the mag- nitude of the evil, all the danger and punishments 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 deserted by history ; which has preserved for us almost nothing re- specting the extent of the public processes and the pop- ular tribunals. But if in Athens several adventitious causes, lying partly in the national character, and partly in the political power of Athens (for the importance of s f ate trials increases with the importance of the state), contributed to multiply this class of processes ; JUDICIAL INSTITUTIONS. 223 it by no means follows, that the number was much smaller in most of the other Grecian cities. Popular tribunals are the sources of political 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 accusations, 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 suffi- cient strength, has recourse to arms, and instead of suf- fering 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 doubt- ed ; and they distinctly exhibit the close connection which existed between the states and their judicial in- stitutions. 224 CHAPTER TWELFTH. CHAPTER XII. THE ARMY AND NAVY. THOUGH wars were so frequent in Greece, the art of war did not make any considerable advances. The con- stitutions 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 intro- duced. 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 can- not be accurately marked, where genius and circum- stances exercise so much influence ; but the absolute strength must also necessarily be considered. The ad- vancement and perfecting of the art of war require ex- periments 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 obli- gation 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 soldier ; even the inquilini, THE ARMY AND NAVY. 225 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. 2 The militia of a country may, under certain circum- stances, very nearly resemble a standing army. Yet the principles on which the two are founded, are very differ- ent. 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 mili- tary service ; and it seems to have been hardly otherwise in Athens. 3 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 Gre- cian 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 than ten thousand 1 They were at least obliged sometimes to do naval service. Demosth. Phil, i. Op i. p. 50. - Thucyd. iv. 5. J Harpocration in S(TI:. Yet it is evident from the passage, that the case was different in the time of Demosthenes. 29 226 CHAPTER TWELFTH. 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 Plataese. 1 But these considerable alliances 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 Platseae 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 pro- mote the improvement of military science. But. after the battle of Plataese, 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 main- taining the ascendency 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 bv sea than by land ; and the military operations consisted principally in sieges. No single great battle 1 Aliout ]] 1,000 men. But only 3^,000 were heavily armed ; and of the light armed troops, 37.000 were Spartan Helots. Herod, ix. 20, 30. THE ARMY AND NAVY. 227 was fought on land during its whole course ; besides naval science, therefore, the art of besieging 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 rendered changes and improvements difficult. The other was the remarkable scarcity of great commanders, a scarcity to have been least expected in a warlike 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 Brasidas, well fitted to be the hero of a revolutionary war, like the Peloponnesian. fell in the very beginning of his career, 1 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 1 Thucyd. v. 10. When we read his proclamation, addressed to the Acan- thians, Thucyd. iv. 85, we believe ourselves brought down to the years 1793 and 1794. 228 CHAPTER TWELFTH. here, as our preceding remarks have made apparent, the army was subordinate to the navy. From the commence- ment of the splendid period of that republic, its political greatness rested on the latter. This preserved to it the ascendency ; 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. 1 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 Grecians were organized. We mention first the situation of the com- manders ; at least in Athens and in several other cities ; 2 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 in Rome and in Athens. 3 The ten wards of this last city had each its own leader ; and these together were the generals. 4 So it was in the Persian, so in the Peloponnesian war. 5 That a similar regulation existed in Boeotia, is evident from the number of their command- ers ; and we learn the same respecting Syracuse, as well from the history of its war with Athens, 6 as from the ele- 1 In the year -100 B. C. near ^gospotainos. 2 As e. g in Thebes and in Syracuse. :J These were called tribus in Rome, tfi/.at in Athens. 4 The rr-niur ),;'', of whom ten were annually appointed. > Compare the instructive narration in Herod, vi 109, respecting the consul- tation previous to the battle of Marathon. 6 Thucvd. vi. 63. THE ARMY AND NAVY. 229 vation of Dionysius. In Athens, a kind of destiny se- cured in the decisive moment, the preponderance to a superior mind, a 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 circumstance, that the troops were not paid. Before the Peloponne- sian war, or at least before the administration of Pericles, no pay was given in Athens or in any Grecian city, ex- cept, 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 submit 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 compensation. 1 With such a constitution, moral causes must have outweighed commands. Courage and patriot- ism 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 at- tempt ? 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. 2 But whether a city could have cavalry, depended on the nature of its 1 The Athenians paid from two to four oboli daily. 2 On Sparta, consult Xcnoph. Op. p. 596. 230 CHAPTER TWELFTH. territory, and the quantity of pasture which it possessed. Where the territory was not favorable, 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 considerable body of it, was not remarkably skilful in making use of it. 1 Where it existed, none but wealthy citizens could serve in it, for the service was expensive. This was the case in Athens ; 2 and yet here the state provided for the sup- port 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. 3 Previous to the Macedonian times, the distinction be- tween 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, helmet, and greaves ; and even the horses were partly covered. 4 From the exer- cises which Xenophon prescribes, to leap over ditches and walls, we must not conceive the armor as too cum- bersome. 5 I find no accounts of that of the Thessalian 1 Sec the account of their war with the Phocians. Pausan. p. 793. The forces of Thessaly seem to have consisted chiefly in cavalry; at least nothing else is mentioned. The surest proof of their little progress in the art of war. 2 The knights, LT.TSI?, formed the second class according to property. 3 According to Xenoph. de Magist. Equit. Op. p. 93G. it cost forty talents annually. 1 Xenoph. de Re Equestri, Op. p. 951. has described them minutely. ' Xenoph. Op. p. 944. THE ARMY AND NAVY. 231 cavalry ; but from what Pausanias says, it could not have been very light. 1 With respect to the infantry, the difference between heavy and light-armed troops 2 prevailed throughout all Greece. The former were armed for the attack and close conflict. They wore a coat of mail and helmet ; the rest of the body was protected by the shield. For the attack they had both spear and sword. The light troops, unincumbered with that heavy armor, carried the javelin, with bow and arrows. 3 The weapons continued, therefore, the same as those which we find used in the Homeric age. But many in- quiries and many attempts were made to improve them in various respects. Whether a straight or curved sword was the best ; 4 whether a longer or a shorter shield de- served the preference ; 5 above all, how the w r eight of the coat of mail could be diminished, and whether it should be made of metal or of some lighter substance, 6 were questions of no little importance. Yet previous to the Macedonian age, we hear of no changes which could give a new character to the whole ; and therefore we must leave to the antiquarian all farther particular re- searches. 1 Pausan. p. 7U7. The horsemen who had been thrown down, being unable to rise, were slain by the Phocians. 8 'On/.iTui and iii/.ui. See Potter's Archseolog. 3 Bow and arrows do not seem to have been favorite weapons ; they are seldom mentioned, and only in connection with certain tribes, as the Cretans. Javelins were preferred. These were carried by the cavalry, as appears from Xenoph. 11. cc. 4 Xenoph. Op. p. 953. 5 Hence the different names t'i'0fu,~ and aur.u;, the large shield, a/zij and TrtP.Tij, the small one, &c. 6 The invention of the lighter coat of mail distinguishes Iphicrates. Cornel, Nep. in Iphic. c. 1 . 232 CHAPTER TWELFTH. On the other hand, we ask leave, so far as one who has not been initiated into the art of war may venture his opinions, to offer some remarks respecting the pro- gress made by the Greeks in the art which relates to the positions and evolutions of armies, all which we compre- hend under the word tactics. We the more desire to do this, because it will afford us a favorable opportunity of expressing an opinion on some of their most distinguished generals. It can with truth be said, that the art of tact- ics is in some respects independent of the progress of the other branches of military science ; and in others is ne- cessarily dependent on them. It is independent, so far as we speak of taking advantage of situation and the ground. The leader of a savage horde may profit by his position, no less than the commander of the best disci- plined army. Each will do it in his own way. It is an affair of genius, and rules cannot be given on the subject. He can do it, to whom nature has given the necessary keenness and quickness of view. This art is therefore always the property of individuals ; it cannot be propa- gated or preserved by instructions. Entirely the reverse is true of the drawing up of an army and the evolutions dependent thereupon. They rest upon rules and know- ledge, which are lasting ; though we readily concede that this is but as it were the inanimate body of the art, into which genius must breathe life. Modern history has shown by a great example, how those forms may continue in the most courageous and best-disciplined army, ?nd yet produce no effect when the spirit of them has passed away. But here a subject is proposed to the historian, of which he can treat. Can this be done bet- ter than bv comparing together several of the principal THE ARMY AND NAVY. 233 engagements, of which detailed accounts have been pre- served ? Inferences which may thus be drawn respecting the progress of tactics, can hardly be exposed to any considerable errors. In the Persian wars, the victory of Marathon was the first splendid military action of the Greeks, or rather of the Athenians. Athens owed it to the heroic spirit of her Miltiades. It was he who turned the scale, when it was still a question, whether a battle should be ventured or not. The voices of the ten leaders, of whom Milti- ades was one, were divided ; the eleventh vote of the Polemarch was to decide. At this moment Miltiades arose and addressed the Polemarch Callimachus. 1 " It now rests with you to reduce Athens to slavery, or, setting it free, to leave a reputation among men, such as neither Harmodius nor Aristogiton has left ; for long as the city of Athens has existed, it has never been in any danger like the present. If it should submit to the Per- sians, it is already determined what it will suffer under its tyrants'; should it be saved, it can become the first of Grecian cities. If we do not join battle, I fear a faction will confuse the minds of the Athenians, and make them Persian ; if we fight, victory will be ours with the gods." History can relate of a great man, nothing more impor- tant than his conduct in the most decisive moment of his life. Miltiades himself could not have foreboded how much depended on that moment ; yet he gained his end, and Callimachus adopted his opinion. But besides the talent of the general, who knew how to avail himself of his position to cover his wings, the victory was not less 1 Herod, vi. 109. 30 234 CHAPTER TWELFTH. decided by the discipline of the Athenian militia, accus- tomed to preserve their ranks even while advancing with rapidity. They ran to the encounter; 1 the first of the Greeks, who did so. The wings of the enemy were discomfited ; and the name of Marathon became immor- tal among men. The battle of Plataese, which happened eleven years later, 2 is one of those, respecting which we have the most accurate accounts. 3 The motions of the army on the preceding days, give it an importance for the student of tactics. In his evolutions the Persian general seems to have been superior to the Grecian ; for he cut off all communication with them, and all supplies of water, and compelled them to change their encampment. But the want of cavalry in the face of an army which abounded in it, made every motion of the Greeks difficult ; and when we remember the internal organization of the army, and the little power possessed by the commander, not only over the allies, but even over his own Spartans, 4 we shall discover still greater difficulties, with which Pausanias had to contend. And yet the Grecians ob- tained a splendid victory ; but it was far more the result of the desperate attack made by the Tegeans and the 1 n (W,j. Horod, vi. 112, Herodotus says expressly, that they made the at- tack with closed ranks, ttflnvm ; we must not therefore think of a wild onset. They had neither cavalry nor archers ; just as the Swiss at Novara in 1513 were without cavalry and artillery ; in each case the result was the same. When en- thusiasm attacks, computation fails. = In the year 479 B. C. 3 Herod, ix. 23, etc. Plutarch, in Aristide. Op. ii. p. 510, etc. has made use of Herodotus. 4 See in Herodotus, and Plutarch 11. cc. p. 517, the relation of the disobedience of Amompharetus, in confirmation of the remark which we made above, p. 233, on Pausanias. THE ARMY AND NAVY. 235 Spartans, 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, Plu- tarch tells us expressly, nothing great or considerable was executed. 1 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 already re- marked, 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 Agesi- laus, and was yet obliged to yield the ascendency 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 model not only of a Spartan, but of a Grecian general. In the Spartan method of war, he made one change ; in his wars against the Persians in Asia, he was the first to form a numerous cavalry ; and to show that he knew 1 Plutarch, in Cimone, Op. iii. p. 217. 236 CHAPTER TWELFTH. the use of it. 1 Except this he made no essential al- teration in tactics. The proof of this is found in the description which Xenophon has given 2 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 artificial evolutions, either before or during the battle. o 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 ex- pected, from the greatest of commanders, we would not in any degree diminish the fame of those distinguished men. Their glory rests on something independent of the mere evolutions of their armies. The Grecian leader was more closely united to his soldiers ; 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 neces- sary to give proofs of greatness. It is the glory of the Greek nation, that it produced 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 in- structer 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 age, what Gus- 1 But that too was only temporary. The battle of Leuctra shows how bad the Spartan cavalry was at a subsequent period. See Xenoph. Op. p. G'JC. z Xenoph. in Agesil. Op. p. G59. THE ARMY AND NAVY. 237 tavus Adolphus was for a later one. If we take from each of these great men, the peculiarities of their times, it will be difficult to find two more congenial spirits, two characters more nearly resembling 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 himself; and we can hardly fail of observing, that it proceeded 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 tri- umphant 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 profoundly acquainted with the subject. " Epa- minondas," says Xenophon, 2 " advanced with his army like a galley with threatening prow ; sure that if he could once break through the line of his adversaries, a 1 The Spartan forces in the battle of Leuctra were thrice as numerous as the Theban; and besides, till that time, had been reckoned invincible. * Xenoph. H. Gr. vi. Op. p. 59G. We learn from the same passage how much the excellent Theban cavalry (formed by Pelopidas) surpassed the Spartan. 238 CHAPTER 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 illus- trious 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 circum- stance, that Xenophon, himself an experienced officer, places the great merit of Epaminondas. 1 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 importance. We allude to the custom of paying the troops. In states which originally made exclusive use of militia, the form and the spirit of their military institutions must have been changed by the introduction of mercenary troops. These could not have the internal re;ulations of the mili- o tia ; which were founded on the division of the citizens ; and although the Swiss mercenaries of the sixteenth cen- tury 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. The use of mercenaries in Greece, may be traced to a 1 Xenoph. Op. p. G45. THE ARMY AND NAVY. 239 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 re- garded as unjust, could not continue, still less be adopted and regularly established. 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 Plataeae we hear nothing of them. In the Peloponnesian war, they were commonly, 2 and after these times, almost universally employed. Several causes operated to pro- duce 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 uni- versal revolutions produced by it, had so increased the number of the poor, that there was a numerous class who made a profession of war, and were ready to serve any 1 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 ty- rants were wholly or chiefly composed of foreigners. a The hired troops of the Spartans, from the Peloponnesus, are mentioned as early as the times of Brasidas ; Thucyd. L. iv. 80 ; those of Athens from Thrace, about the same time ; Thucyd. L. v. G ; those of the Corinthians and others we find constantly mentioned. In the Peloponnesus, it was chiefly the Arcadians \vhoservedas mercenaries; hence the proverb among the poets; i$ 'Anxad'tas iTiixovgoi, Athen. i p. 27, for they did not serve for nothing. 240 CHAPTER TWELFTH. 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 con- sequences. 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 mercenaries 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, allured nume- rous 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, 1 to be convinced that great multitudes followed this kind of life. The subsequent Phocian war 2 was conducted by the Phocians, who were aided by the treasures of Delphi, almost exclusively with hired troops ; and Demosthenes is loud in his complaints and censure of a custom, which all his eloquence was not able to change. 3 Of all writers, Isocrates has spoken the most distinctly 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 tremble, who were they ? Men, says Isocrates, 4 of such reputation, that thev could not reside in their native cities. " Formerly," says he in another place, 5 " there was no such thing as 1 Tn the year 400 B. C. " Called also the Sacred war, from 357 till 347 H. C. 3 See his Philippic and Olynthiac orations. 4 Isocrnt. Panr-0-yr. Op. p. 71. s Tsocrat. Or ad Phil. Op. p. 101. THE ARMY AND NAVY. 241 mercenaries ; now the situation of Greece is such, that it would be far easier 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, 1 that a state which trusts to mercenary troops, must finally tremble before them. " Unless," says Isocrates to Philip, 2 " to provide for the support of these people by establishing colonies of them, they will soon collect in vast troops, and be more formidable to the Hellenes, than the barbarians." 3 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 mer- chant 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 cor- rectly 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, lim- ited to the jEgean and Ionian seas. The expedition of Athens against Syracuse, is the most distant which was ever undertaken by any Grecian fleet of the mother country ; with what success is known. Even the Black sea, though open to their vessels of commerce, was hardly 1 In the wars with the mercenaries, 240 237 B. C. 2 Isocrat. ad Philip. Op. p. 100. 3 We learn from Xenophon's retreat, that they were formidable to their own commanders; just as were the Swiss at Milan. 31 242 CHAPTER TWELFTH. visited by their galleys 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 harbors ; and the naval expeditions were not much more than passages by sea. Farther ; Greece, especially the most cultivated eastern part of it, did not abound in wood ; and though some of the western or inland dis- tricts 1 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 im- ported what it needed from Thrace. 2 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 extraordinary 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 accord- ing 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 foreign- ers were hired. Such is the description given by Isocra- tes. " Formerly," says he, 3 " in the better times of Athens, foreigners and slaves were used for the manage- ' O O ment of the vessels ; but citizens performed service in arms. Now the case is reversed ; those of the city are 1 As Acarnania and Arcadia. '-' Thucyd. iv. 108. -' Isocrat. de Pace, Op. p. 100 See Scheffer de Milit.. Naut. ii. 3. THE ARMY AND NAVY. 243 compelled to serve as mariners, 1 while the soldiers con- sist of mercenaries." The manning of the fleets was therefore attended with great expense ; and it is known respecting them from the Peloponnesian war, that Sparta could not have borne them but for the alliance and sub- sidies of Persia. These causes are sufficient to limit our expectations 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 piracy, which before that period had been so common, must have made it ne- cessary 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 characteristic 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 of ships, which derived their name from that circumstance. 2 But the incident which made a real and the only epoch in the history of Grecian naval architecture, is the inven- 1 Especially the Inquilini. 2 The 7rTi;xorro(>oi. See Scheffer de Varietate Nav. in Gronov. Thes. xi. p. 752. 244 CHAPTER TWELFTH. tion of the triremes. They were distinguished bj the triple order of benches for rowing, placed one above the other. 1 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 Macedo- nian times, and always after them, the chief strength of the Grecian fleet lay in the triremes, just as that of mod- ern 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 Thucydides 2 a passage, which in my opinion settles this point beyond a doubt. " When, after the abolition of monarchies, the cities became more wealthy, the Greeks began to build fleets, and to pay more attention to the sea. The Corinthians were the first to change the ships according to our present form ; for in Greece the first triremes Avere built at Corinth ; and it was the ship- builder Aminocles of Corinth, who built for the Samians four (such) vessels. But it was about three hundred years before the end of this war, 3 that Aminocles came to the Samians. The oldest naval battle with which we are acquainted, was fought between the Corinthians and the Corcyraeans ; since that time, two hundred and sixty years have elapsed." 4 1 Scheffcr de Milit. Naval, ii. 2. I believe this point, once so much contested, is now no longer doubted ; although uncertainty still exists respecting the order of the rows. Compare the prints and illustrations in Antichita. d'Ercolano, T. v. at the end. 2 Tliucyd. i. 13 3 About 700 years B. C. 4 About 640 years B. C. THE ARMY AND NAVY. 246 This testimony, more important than all the accounts of later grammarians and compilers, proves that it was in the seventh century that the Grecian cities began to support, fleets. The account of the great historian is made much clearer by the inquiries respecting Grecian commerce, which show that the same period beheld the seeds of Grecian cities, planted on the seacoast from Asia to Sicily, spring up and flourish in the genial beams of liberty. The year, it" is true, is not mentioned, in which the first triremes were built in Corinth ; but the whole connexion shows, that the invention was still re- cent in the age of Aminocles ; and as the first naval battle between the Greeks was fought forty years later, it is ob- vious, that they were then but beginning to support fleets. But at the same time we must confess that naval archi- tecture, after this first great step, made no further con- siderable advances before the Macedonian age. Thucy- dides says this expressly ; for he observes, that the Co- rinthians gave the ships the form which they continued to have in his time. Neither did it at once become a gen- eral custom to build triremes. Till the Persian wars, the use of the long ships and those of fifty oars was the most usual ; the Syracusans and Corcyrseans were, about this time, the first to have whole fleets consisting of triremes. 1 In these, many improvements may have been made ; but as no essential change took place, we leave this subject and many others relating to naval matters, to the industry of the antiquarian. We would only add a few remarks on the naval tactics of the Greeks. Did they receive a scientific form earlier 1 Thucyd. i. 14. 246 CHAPTER TWELFTH. than the military ? And if so, through whom, and by what means ? And here the reader must not forget, that we are treating of the times previous to the dominion of Macedonia. It is apparent from the preceding observations, that the Greeks had more reason to improve their naval than their military tactics. They were often obliged to con- tend with fleets, not only superior to theirs in number, but also in the excellence of tlie vessels ; for in the Per- sian wars, the squadrons of the Phoenicians were arrayed against them. Even when the victory had been gained, the safety of Greece still depended on its maritime force. This formed the foundation of the greatness of the first of the Grecian cities. Naval actions, more than battles by land, decided the destiny of the states. What cir- cumstances and relations could be more favorable to the display of great, talents ? And where may we indulge greater expectations, especially when we look through the lists of the men to whom Athens and Sparta en- trusted the command of their squadrons ? We can best commence the history of the naval tactics of Greece, at the period in which we have descriptions of their engagements at sea. The earliest account which we possess, is of the battle which took place near the island Lada, off Miletus, between the Ionian fleet and that of the Phoenicians in the service of Persia. The navy of the lonians had then reached its best state ; it consisted of not less than three hundred and fifty triremes, while that of the Phoenicians was almost twice as large. We find that a premeditated position was taken in the days before the battle. In the divisions of the first line, there were intervals, through which those of the second could THE ARMY AND NAVY. 247 sail. 1 But the battle itself is not instructive, as the Per- sians previously succeeded in dividing the fleet of the allies. When Xerxes invaded Greece, Themistocles gained the glory of being his country's preserver by sea. But it must not be forgotten, that though he was the com- mander of the Athenians, he had not the general com- mand of the allies. This post he had the prudence and moderation to yield, at least nominally, to Eurybiades the Spartan. 2 Still it was Themistocles who directed the whole, not by commands, but by persuasion ; and in this art who was equal to him ? Twice he ventured to meet the much superior navy of the Persians ; first at Artemisium, then at Salamis. But in both instances he remedied his inferiority, not so much by artful manoeu- vres, as by choosing his situation. He would not meet the immense Persian fleet in the open sea ; where the wings of the enemy would have unavoidably extended beyond his own. Hence he chose his first position at the northern entrance of the strait of Euboea, 3 and after the indecisive engagements of Artemisium, retreated through those straits to the Saronic bay ; where the nook between Attica and the island of Salamis offered a station still more secure. In such a position, where the enemy is expected in close array, manoeuvres are not farther needed ; but the relation of Herodotus leaves us 1 Herod, vi. 12, etc. Here too we have an instance of how little could be effected by the commander. 8 On this and what follows, consult the interesting narrative of Herodotus, viii. 2. 3 The Euripus, as it was called. The Persians sent a part of their squadron round the rsland, to block up the southern entrance, and thus cut oft' the retreat of the Greeks; but their squadron was destroyed by a storm. Herod. 1. c. 248 CHAPTER TWELFTH. in doubt, whether most to admire the discernment, or the prudence and adroitness of the commander. Of the later naval engagements which took place in the course of those wars, we have only general accounts. The Greeks beat the Persians too easily. Where an enemy is despised, the art of war cannot make much progress. We have particular accounts 1 of the naval fight, which, at the beginning of the Peloponnesian war, took place between the Corcyreeans and Corinthians ; and after which, both nations erected a trophy. The fleet of the Corinthians formed one line ; that of the Corcyraeans, on the contrary, was drawn up in three divisions. But the historian remarks, that no manosuvres took place ; they grappled at once, and ship fought singly with ship. All that we read of the fleet of the Corcyraeans, gives us no high opinion of their skill in naval tactics. In a second naval engagement with the Peloponnesians, they showed still less adroitness, and would have been ruined, had not the division of the Athenians covered their retreat. 2 The naval tactics which were now known to the Greeks, consisted chiefly in sailing round, and sailing through the enemy's line. 3 The object of the first was, to extend the line beyond the opposite wings ; of the second, to break through the hostile line. To prevent this, the other fleet was drawn up in two lines, both with intervals, so that the divisions of the second line could pass through the intervals in the first, and thus assist them, when assistance was needed. This order was 1 Thucyd. i. 47, etc. 2 Thucyd. iii. 77. 78. 3 77(H.7/fit and die unfair. Thucyd. vii. 36. Xenoph. H. Gr. i. Op. p. 446. THE ARMY AND NAVY. 249 particularly understood by the Athenians, who also adopted another method of attack, not with the prow, but obliquely from the side ; so that the oars of the enemy's ship were broken, and the ship thus made unmanageable. In those matters, the Athenians were superior not only to the Spartans, but even to the Syra- cusans. 1 The two last years of the Peloponnesian war were particularly remarkable for naval encounters ; but for a knowledge of tactics, the engagement between the Spar- tans under Callicratidas, and the Athenians, near Lesbos, alone deserves notice ; for it gives us an example of the management of a squadron in a double row. The Athenian fleet was drawn up in two lines, both on the right and the left wing. Each wing consisted of two divisions, each division of fifteen ships ; and was sup- ported by equal divisions in the second line ; the centre was composed of one line. This order, says Xenophon, 2 was chosen, that the fleet might not be broken through. The Spartan fleet, on the contrary, formed but one line ; prepared for sailing round or breaking through the ene- my. The battle was obstinate ; it was long before the Athenians gained the victory, as Callicratidas fell. His steersman, before the battle, had advised him to retreat, on account of the greatly superior force of the Athenians. " Were I to fall, Sparta could exist as well," was his answer. The naval tactics of the ancients were further im- proved in the wars between the Romans and Cartha- ginians, and under the Ptolemies. In forming an opinion 1 See the description of the fight in Thucyd. 1. c. * Xen. Op. p. 440. 32 250 CHAPTER TWELFTH. respecting them, two things should not be forgotten. First ; less depended on the winds than in modern tac- tics ; for the triremes were moved rather by oars than sails. Secondly ; where battles were always fought near at hand, and the ships always ran along side of each other, the manoeuvres of the fleets could not be so various or so important, as where the ships remain at a certain distance, and manoeuvres are performed during the whole action. But though the naval tactics of the moderns are more difficult and intricate, we must not infer that the naval battles of the ancients were comparatively insignifi- cant. They decided wars in ancient times much more frequently than in modern ; and if the loss of men is to be taken into consideration, it might easily be shown, that one naval battle of the ancients often swept away more men, than three or even more in our age. STATESMEN AND ORATORS. 251 CHAPTER XIII. STATESMEN AND ORATORS. THE character of the statesman in republics like the Grecian must, in many respects, differ from the states- man of the modern European monarchies ; and can be sketched with difficulty. Yet it is necessary to form a distinct conception of the sphere of action, in which those men exerted themselves, who justly form the pride of antiquity. But it may seem the less superfluous to enter into this subject, since we shall thus gain an opportunity of forming more correct opinions respecting several of those men. Though Athens was their home and the theatre of their actions, they were the property of Greece ; and are here to be held up as the representatives of so many others, of who mhistory has preserved for us less information, because they made their appearance in cities of less renown. The different character of the Grecian states necessa- rily exercised an influence on the character of the states- men, who appeared in them. Where the law exercised unlimited power as it did in Sparta, there was no room for demagogues like those of Athens. But difference of time was as influential as the difference of constitutions. How then could it be otherwise expected, than that with the increasing culture of the nation, there should be a change in the influence and the conduct of those who were at its head. 252 CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. In the age of Solon, men first appeared in the mother country, who were worthy of the name of statesmen. Many had before that period been in possession of power, and not unfrequently had become tyrants ; but none can be called statesmen, as the word itself denotes, except those, who as freemen conduct the affairs of cultivated nations. In Solon's age, 1 the relations of the Grecian states had not yet become intricate. No one of them exercised sway over the rest ; and no one endeavored to do so ; even the importance of Sparta in the Peloponnesus was founded on her attempts to liberate the cities from the yoke of the tyrants. In such a period, when the indivi- dual states were chiefly occupied with their own concerns and those of their nearest neighbors, the statesman's sphere of action could not for any length of time be ex- tended beyond the internal government and administra- tion. The seven wise men, from whom the Greeks date the ago in which politics began to be a science, were not speculative philosophers, but rulers, presidents, and coun- sellors of states ; rulers, as Perhnder of Corinth and Pit- tacus of Mitylene ; presidents, as Solon of Athens, Chilo of Sparta, Cleobulus of Lindus ; counsellors, as Bias and Thalcs of princes and cities. 2 Of these, Solon is the only o)i(3 with whom we are much acquainted ; he is known as a lawgiver, and also as a soldier and poet. But it wns not. till after the wars with Persia, that the men appeared, whom we can call statesmen in the Hclwcrn (500 and The passages which relate to them, have already been collected and illustrated by Meiners and other writers on the history eschichte der Wissenschaften, i. p. 43. STATESMEN AND ORATORS. 253 modern sense of the word. For it was then for the first time, when a contest arose with a nation to all appear- ances infinitely superior in power, and the question of existence was at issue, and when good counsel was not less important than action, that a greater political interest was excited, which employed the strongest minds. And this interest was not and could not he transitory. For it gave birth in Greece to the idea of supremacy, which a single state obtained and preserved for nearly seventy years ; and which, as we have already remarked, became the foundation of its greatness and its splendor. Political affairs and negotiations were now to be judged of by a new criterion. The foreign relations were now the most important; and it was in conducting them, that the first statesmen were employed. But their sphere of action was by no means limited to Athens alone ; it was in some measure extended over the whole of Greece. The object of these men was, and could not but be, to gain influence in a community, in which some ine- quality was produced by birth (as certain families, like those of the Eupatridae, were held superior to the rest, forming a sort of nobility, and even a political party,) yet in which birth had very little influence on future conse- quence. In Athens as in England, certain families or classes of families advocated certain political ideas and principles, by means of which the democratic and aristo- cratic parties were formed, and kept up amidst a variety of changes. But the history of Athens still abounds in proofs, that the influence possessed over the people, by no means depended on birth. Here, as in the other similar states, there were two methods of gaining such influence ; by deeds in war, and in peace by counsel. 254 CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. In some periods, military glory was the most esteemed ; in others, influence could be gained without it. In the early period, during the war with the Persians, the com- manders of the armies were also statesmen ; and how could it be otherwise ? But when the affairs of peace grew more important, a new course was opened to the man of genius. Yet it was long before the statesman, as such, could rise in Athens ; the qualifications of a gen- eral long remained essential to his influence ; though the age finally came, in which the former began to be of more consequence than the latter. We shall not therefore ex- pose ourselves to the danger of being misapprehended, if we distinguish the three periods from one another ; the first, in which the statesman was subordinate to the general ; the next, in which the general was subordinate to the statesman ; and the third, in which the statesman acted independently of the general. Without any elabo- rate argument, the reader will immediately perceive, that here a certain relation exists to the increasing cul- ture of the nation ; the mere military commander may rule a nation of barbarians ; but the statesman who has no pretensions to the qualifications of a general, finds no place except among a cultivated people. To mark more distinctly the limits of the three periods, we will rail the first, that of Themistocles, the second that of Pericles, and the third that of Demosthenes. In the first age it is easy to perceive, that the qualities of a commander were of more importance than those of a statesman. The state was to be saved on the field of battle : and yet prudence was needed for its safety no less than courage. Themistocles himself may be regard- ed as the representative of this period. Destined by STATESMEN AND ORATORS. 255 nature to become a demagogue rather than a general, he was still forced by the character and the spirit of his age to build his political influence on his military fame. He owed his greatness to the Persian war and Salamis. But as a general, he is perhaps the most perfect model of a popular leader, who effects less by commands than by persuasion and knowledge of men. His nation re- cognised in him the most prudent of its citizens ; and he understood his nation better than any one, not merely collectively, but individually. Hence proceeded his in- fluence. " He was most distinguished," says Thucydi- des,' 1 " for the strength of his natural powers ; and for this he is the most admirable of men. His understand- ing made him the most acute observer of every unex- pected incident, without any previous or subsequent inquiries ; and gave him the most accurate foresight of the future. Whatever he undertook, he was able to ex- ecute ; and to form a true judgment on whatever was new to him. In doubtful matters, he could best tell, what was to be done or to be avoided ; and, in a word, he was the first for strength of natural powers, and for promptness of decision." Happy the state which is fa- vored with such a citizen ! Even in great dangers it has no need to fear. He who considers the whole his- tory of Themistocles, will admire him less for his deeds of heroism, than for the manner in which he preserved the courage of his nation, and in the decisive moment, brought them to the decisive measure, rather to enter their ships and desert their native city, than subject themselves to the Persian yoke. Such things can be 1 Thucyd. i. 138. 256 CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. done only by a man of superior genius. It is true that his great talents were united to a character, which was not entirely free from selfishness. 1 But the interests of his country were never sacrificed to his private advan- tage. And in judging of Themistocles, it must never be forgotten, that he was the first, who, without family, rose to eminence in Athens, and destroyed the power of the nobility. 2 This could never be forgiven him ; and it is not strange, that, persecuted as he was by Sparta, he should have been overwhelmed by his foreign and do- mestic enemies. But when he quitted ungrateful Athens, his object was already accomplished. He had practi- cally demonstrated that he understood the art which he vaunted, of making of a small state a large one. The reception with which he met in Persia, does no less honor to him than to Artaxerxes ; and although it is doubtful whether he did not escape serving against his country by a voluntary death, 3 it is certain that he did nothing which could sully his fame. If Themistocles shows how talents could rise in a state like Athens, Aristides is an example of the influence of character. His influence and his share in public busi- ness were grounded on the conviction of his honesty and / disinterestedness; although he also needed the support of military glory. As early as at Marathon, he, as one 1 tiee in particular the relation of the corruption of the Grecian generals by the Mnbrcnns. Herod, viii. 5. - Plutnrrh. in Themistoe. Op. 1. p. 43H. He died," says Thucydides, " of disease. Sonic say he died of poison, \\l\icli he tool; heciuse ho could not perform a!I that he had promised the king." Thur.yd. i. I^S. Thunydides s:ivs nothing of the tradition, that he destroyed himself bv drinking bull's bi"od. Plutarch. Op. i- p 4'H. The story seems til-':; ..MIL i-.rrivrd additions ; r : Jii,c_v dides .-pralvs sj decisively, that he C'Jii.d hai'-Iiy have doublet the natural death of Thernibtoek's. STATESMEN AND ORATORS. 257 of the ten generals, stood by the side of Miltiades ; and had himself the magnanimity to yield to him the su- preme command. 1 At Plataeae, he was the leader of the Athenians ; and after the liberties of Greece had been rescued by this victory, and Athens had established its supremacy in the alliance against Persia, he was ap- pointed, at the request of the allies, to superintend the general exchequer, and performed the most difficult office of fixing for each of them its proportion of the annual tribute. 2 Thus Athens owed to him not much less than to Themistocles, who had been his rival from youth. If political and moral principles rendered the union of the two impossible (nothing but the urgent ne- cessities of the country effected it for a short time), it must not be forgotten, that Aristides, though probably of no opulent family, 3 belonged by his birth to the class of the Eupatridae. Cimon, the son of Miltiades, the third whom we should name in this first period, connects it, as it were, with the succeeding. He too was more of a general than a statesman. His policy had but one object, con- tinual war against the Persians, as the means of pre- serving the unity of the Greeks. This he pursued through his whole life, from the battle of Salamis, (and he had been the first to give the example of deserting 1 Plutarch. Op. i. p 4-D. - i: Aristides," says Plutarch, "made inquiries respecting the teiritory and revenue of the several states ; and fixed accordingly the tribute of each state to general satisfaction.' 1 Plutarch. Op. ii. p. 535. - But even before tlint tin.e it was his character, which had gained for Athens the supremacy. For the allies desired a president like him ; and even invited him to as-umc the supreme com- mand " Plutarch, ii. p. 53'?. lie was at that time general of the Athenians with Cimon. 3 How uncertain this was, appears from Plutarch, iii. p. 47~>. 33 258 CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. the city and entering the ships) ; 1 till shortly before the glorious peace which he had promoted, but did not live to see concluded. 2 He seems, therefore, to have taken no farther share in the internal affairs, than he was forced to do by his situation. For descended from a noble family, and a pupil of Aristides, possessing the principles of his political instructor, he desired the favor of the people, only as the means of preserving his, char- acter as a military commander ; and yet he did not escape the lot which had fallen to Themistocles and Aris- tides. But his military fame procured his speedy return ; and confirmed him, as it increased, in the possession of his place. It was by the means which Cimon used to preserve the favor of the people, that he held a place, as we have observed, between the first and second period. His liberality was not confined to citizens alone ; even he began to attract attention by public improve- ments, made for the most part at his own expense. Themistocles had fortified the city and the Piraeeus ; and Cimon beiran to ornament them. With the Persian O spoils lie built a part of the walls of the citadel. 3 He caused the marshy ground at its side" 5 to be dried and paved ; he prepared an abode for Plato and his philoso- phy, by converting the barren field, which occupied the site of the Academy, into a lovely, well watered grove; and for the Athenians, he made the market-place their most favorite place of resort, by planting it with plane- trees. 5 lie was intimately acquainted with the artists of his time, especially with the painter Polygnotus : to 2 Uc d'od in the year 4-10 B. C. 4 Callod cii" /./'im.'i. STATESMEN AND ORATORS. 259 whose art and patriotism, the Athenians were indebted for the paintings which decorated the most celebrated of their public halls. 1 Cimon may therefore justly be styled the precursor of Pericles, whose name we use to designate the second period. The time was arrived, when the arts of peace I were to flourish no less than those of war; when almost! every branch of the arts and of literature was to put* forth its most beautiful and most imperishable blossoms. \ Under such circumstances, and in a republic, of which no one could possess the direction without understanding the means of winning and preserving the respect and admiration of his fellow-citizens, it is obvious, that new qualities were necessary in the statesman, and new requi- sitions made of him. The reciprocal influence which exists between men of genius and their age, is perhaps one of the most interesting inquiries, for which history presents us the materials. When we survey the several periods in which, at a greater or less distance, the remark- able changes of individual nations, and even of a large part of mankind, have taken place, we shall always find in them individual men, who may in some measure be regarded as the representatives of their age ; and who frequently and justly lend their names to it. They can in a certain degree rise above their age ; but they do not the less remain children of the time in which they live ; and a history of mankind, as contained in the history of these leading minds, \vould perhaps be the most faithful that can be given. He who has truly deli- neated Herrman and Caesar, or Gregory, or Luther, or 1 Plutarch. Op. ii. p. 178. Hence called the variegated, Tioixiir,. It was ad- joining to the forum. 260 CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. Frederic, has sketched the chief traits of their respec- tive ages. To be in advance of one's age, as is the usual mode of expression, means but to understand one's age correctly in all its bearings ; and to act on the principles which result from such knowledge. In this lies the secret of great men, that no one can be- tray them, because no one shares their penetration, or rather in many cases their presaging insight into the future. On hearing the age of Pericles mentioned, a crowd of glorious associations is called up ; he who be- comes more profoundly acquainted with it, soon finds that no pure ideal of perfection then existed. To behold the mere citizen of a republic, raising his nation, and by means of his nation all mankind, to a higher position, is a spectacle which history has never but once been able, under similar circumstances, to repeat, in Lorenzo the Magnificent. Enviable men, around whose brows the unfading laurel twines its verdure ! If fame in succeed- ing generations, if the grateful remembrance of posterity is no vain felicity, who would not willingly exchange his claims for yours ? In his political course, Pericles was guided by a simple principle ; to be the first in his own city, whilst he secured to it the first place among cities. Its political preponder- ance) depended on the preservation of its supremacy over Greece; and this was to be preserved, not by force alone; but by every thing which, according to Grecian ideas, could render a city illustrious. Hence he felt himself the necessity of improving his mind more variously than had hit 1 erro been common in Athens; and he availed himself for that end of all the means which his age afforded him. He was the first statesman, who felt that a certain degree ' STATESMEN AND ORATORS. 261 of acquaintance with philosophy was requisite ; not in order to involve his mind in the intricacies of a system, but to exercise himself in thinking with freedom ; and he became the pupil of Anaxagoras. 1 If before no ora- tors, except those appointed by the state, had spoken in the popular assemblies, he was the first, who came for- ward as a voluntary orator ; 2 and the study of eloquence was necessary for him, although he never made the duties of an active statesman subordinate to those of a public speaker. Whilst he ornamented Athens by those master- pieces of architecture and the arts of design, he was not the patron, but the personal friend of a Phidias and simi- lar men ; and who does not know, that his intimacy with Aspasia, his friend, his mistress, and at last his wife, im- parted to his mind that liner culture, which he would have looked lor in vain among the women of Athens. But all this he made subservient to his public career. He desired to be altogether a statesman, and he was so. "There was in the whole city," says Plutarch, 3 "but one street in which he was ever seen ; the street, which led to the market-place and the council-house. He de- clined all invitations to banquets, and all gay assemblies and company. During the whole period of his adminis- tration, he never dined at the table of a friend ; he did but just make his appearance at the nuptials of his nephew Euryptolemus ; but immediately alter the libation 4 he 1 In proof of this and the following account, consult Plutarch in the biography. of Pericles. Op. T. ii. 2 Plutarch makes a distinction between him and the orators appointed by the state; 1. c. p. GO I. See I'etit. de Leg. Att. iii. 3. 3 Plutarch. Op. ii. p. (J01 . 4 That is, at the beginning of the repast. These little traits seem to me to designate the man, who never forgave himself any thing. What nobler object 262 CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. arose. He did not always appear even in the popular assemblies ; but only when important business was to be transacted ; smaller concerns he entrusted to his friends and the orators." Thus Pericles exhibited the model of a statesman, such as Greece had never yet seen, and was not to see again. His history shows, that he became great amidst the collision of parties ; all of which he finally annihilated ; and we need not therefore be aston- ished, if the opinions of his contemporaries were not united in his favor. We learn of Plutarch, 1 how zealously the comic poets attacked him. But he has gained the voice of one man, whose authority surpasses that of all the rest, the voice of Thucydides. " So long as he presided over the state in peace," says the historian, 2 " he did it with moderation ; the state was preserved in its integrity, and was even advanced under him to its highest degree a o of greatness. When the war broke out, he showed that he had made a just calculation of his strength. The first in dignity and prudence, he was superior to all suspicion of corruption ; he therefore swayed the people almost at will ; he guided them, and was not guided by them ; for ho did not speak according to their humor; but often op- posed thorn with dignity and even with vehemence. If they were inclined to do any thing unreasonably, he knew how to restrain them ; if they suffered their cour- age to sink without reason, he could renew their con- fidence. His administration was therefore nominally the government of the people, but in reality the government STATESMEN AND ORATORS. 263 of the first man." To a character described by such a master, no additions need be made ; but we cannot omit to observe, that Pericles, though so great as a statesman, was not unmindful of the fame of military command. In this the rule of his conduct seems to have been, great prudence, and to undertake nothing without the greatest probability of success ; and such was the confidence re- posed in him, that, in the last fifteen years of his admin- istration, he seems to have held the place of general without interruption. 1 While we render to Pericles the tribute of just admi- ration, W 7 e ought not forget that he was favored by the circumstances of his times. A man like him is capable of effecting much when the state, of which he is the head, is flourishing, and the people itself is constantly unfolding talents and powers, of which he must be able to take advantage. Pericles himself never could have played his part a second time ; how much less those who were his successors. Of these history has but one to mention, of whom \ve must take notice, because he be- longed, in a certain sense, not merely to Athens, but to Greece ; we mean Alcibiades. The age in which he appeared was altogether warlike ; and of this he merits the blame. He needed, therefore, the qualifications of a general more than those of a statesman. Still it may be said with confidence, that even in better times he would not have become a Pericles, although he seemed destined by birth, talents, and fortune to play a similar part. Pericles regarded, in everything, first the state and then himself; Alcibiades, on the contrary, first himself and 4 Namely, after his victory over his antagonist, the elder Thncydides, who was supported by the party of the Optimates. Plutarch. Op. ii. p. 620, (J27. 264 CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. then the state. Is more needed to delineate his charac- ter as a statesman ? Vanity was his leading trait. He is thus described by the same great historian, who has drawn for us the picture of Pericles. " Although Alci- biades," says he, 1 " was distinguished among his fellow- citizens for his wealth and consequence, his desires were always greater than his fortune ; particularly of keeping splendid equipages, and supporting other extravagances ; which contributed not a little to the downfall of the Athenians." His history is so well known, that it is not necessary to establish these remarks by any particu- lar references ; his whole life from beginning to end is a confirmation of them. The men who have thus far been named, united, though in different decrees, the characters of the states- O O ' man and the general. By what means Avas such an en- tire separation of the two produced, as may be observed in the third period, which we have named from Demos- thenes ? The name alone explains to us distinctly enough, that the reason is to be looked for in the domin- ion of eloquence ; but the question remains still to be answered, Why and from what causes did eloquence ob- tain so late its ascendency in politics ? We do not read that Themistocles and Aristides were skilled in oratory as an art. It is certain, that of all practical statesmen, Pericles was the first who deserved thin praise ; although it is uncertain whether he took adv.:nt.:ir<> of the instructions which then began to be givc!i bv the teachers of eloquence. 2 But though the STATESMEN AND ORATORS. 265 orations of Pericles were artfully composed, they cannot be called works of art in the same sense with those of Demosthenes and his contemporaries. As Pericles left no writings, it must remain undecided whether he wrote out his speeches word for word. A circumstance, of which the memory is preserved by Plutarch, appears to make this very uncertain. " He was accustomed," says the biographer, 1 " whenever he was to speak in public, previously to entreat the gods, that he might not utter, against his will, any word which should not belong to the subject." Does not this seem to show, that he was not accustomed to write his orations, and deliver them from memory, but that he rather left much to be lilled up by the impulse of the moment ? The speech which Thucy- dides represents him to have delivered, 2 is the work of the historian ; but we can judge from that and other similar discourses contained in the same author, of the character of public eloquence before and during the Pe- loponnesian war ; since they could not but be composed in the taste and after the manner of the times. But how do they differ in style from those of the age of Demos- thenes ! How much less can those orations, "Teat as are their various merits, be considered as classic models in the art of eloquence ! We find in them little or nothing of an artificial plan ; little of that rhetorical amplification and those figures and artifices, by which the later orators produced an effect on their hearers. We justly admire qucnce. lie made use of the pretext, says Plutarch, of teaching him music. Gorgias of Leontium, who is commonly mentioned as be prop!? assigned to him the funeral oration on those who fell at ChriTonea: and by this did honor to him and to themselves. ' Fn the year !>r>i"! !' C. 6 Plutarch, iv. p. 73! . ' hi the vear 33d I!. C'. STATESMEN AND ORATORS. 273 from Athens. 1 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 cor- rupted by his money, at least to be silent. 2 This was sufficient to procure the imposition of a fine ; 3 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 im- prisonment. He resided for the most part in J^gina and at Trcezen, from whence he looked with moist eyes to- wards the neighboring Attica. 4 Suddenly and unex- pectedly a new ray of light broke through the clouds. Tidings were brought, that Alexander was dead. 5 The moment of deliverance seemed at hand ; the excitement pervaded every Grecian state ; the ambassadors of the Athenians passed through the cities ; Demosthenes joined himself to the number, and exerted all his eloquence and power to unite them against Macedonia. In requital for such services, the people decreed his return ; and years of sufferings were at last followed by a clay of ex- alted compensation. A galley was sent to /Egina to bring back the advocate of liberty. All Athens was in 1 The oration for the Crown. The trial took place in the year 330 B. C. 2 Plutarch, iv. p. 733. I leave it to (he reader to form an opinion respecting the anecdotes which are there related. His accuser was Dinarchus, whose calumnious oration we still possess. Or. Gr. vol. iv. Reisk. 3 Of :>0 talents ; (not far from 45,000 dollars) ; Pint. iv. p. 735, 4 Plut. iv. 730. 6 In the year 323. 6 Pint. iv. p. 737. 35 274 CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. motion ; no magistrate, no priest remained in the city, when it was reported that Demosthenes was advancing from the Piraeeus. 1 Overpowered by his feelings, he extended his arms and declared himself happier than Alcibiades; 2 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 Macedonian party in Athens ; De- mosthenes and his friends were numbered among the accused, and at the instigation of Demades were con- demned 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. De- mosthenrs had escaped to the^ island Calauria in the vicinity of Trcezen : and took refuse in the temple of Neptune. 3 It was to no purpose, that Archias, the satellite of Antipnter, urged him to surrender himself under promise of pardon. He pretended he wished to write something ; bit the quill, and swallowed the poi- son contained in it. He then veiled himself, reclining his head backwards, till he felt the operation of the poi- son. " O Neptune !" he exclaimed, " they have defiled thy temple: but honoring thee, I will leave it while yet livinii'." But he sank before the altar, 4 and a sudden : ''int. iv. p. ?;? : . '-' V'ho r=,iw a similar day of return. :i See. for th - following. Tlut. iv. p 741. 4 V.Tui; a subject !'T t!r.' ar; of Fc:ilp{im> ! and yet one. which has never, to ii.y knowledge, been ;n;id>' use of. The artist, would only need to draw after riutarcli STATESMEN AND ORATORS. 275 death separated 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 differently would Demos- thenes appear to us, if we were particularly acquainted with the details of his political career. 1 How much must have been needed to effect such an alliance, as he was repeatedly able to form ? What journeys, what connec- tions, 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 disposal 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 confirm their influence. But the other means which Pitt could employ to form a party, were not possessed by Demosthenes. He had no presents 1 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. 276 CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. to offer, no places to give away, no ribbons and titles to promise. On the contrary, he was opposed by men, who could control everything by which covetousness or ambi- tion 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 contest against the superiority of foreign strength, and the still more danger- ous contest with the corruptions of his own nation. It was his high calling, to be the pillar of a sinking state. Thirty years he remained true to it, and he did not yield till he was buried beneath its ruins. SCIENCES IN CONNECTION WITH THE STATE. 277 CHAPTER XIV. THE SCIENCES IN CONNECTION WITH THE STATE. THE relation which exists between science and politi- cal institutions, is of a twofold nature. It may be 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 promot- ing 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 beginning 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 government. They are the fruit of the investigations of individual eminent men ; who have a right to expect nothing, but that no hin- drances should be laid in the way of their inquiries and labors. Such was the situation of things in the Grecian states, at the time when scientific pursuits began to gain life. What inducement could the state have had to in- terfere 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 in- stitutions for their dissemination. There certainly were public schools for instruction in reading, writing, and in 278 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH music (poetry and song) ; over which teachers were ap- pointed in all the principal cities ; and the laws provided that no abuses dangerous to youth should find entrance to them. 1 But in most of them the masters were pro- bably not paid by the state ; 2 tney received a compensa- tion from their pupils. The same is true of the more advanced instruction delivered 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 sup- port was one of the duties incumbent on citizens, 3 no higher institutions for instruction existed previous to the Macedonian age. But when the mass of scientific know- ledge 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 Grecian republics, then, still continue to be cited, as has been done by the celebrated founder of a new school J of political economy, in proof that the state should leave 1 Sro the laws of Solon on this point. Petit. Leg. Atl. L. ii.Tit. iv. p. 239. " ] limit the proposition on purpose, for it would be altogether false to assert generally, that this never took place. Charonidas, in his laws at Catana. which WvTp afterwards adopted in Thurium. had expressly enacted, that the school- masters should be paid by the state; Diod. xii. p. SO, as an affair of the utmost importance. Sinn 1 the schools were so carefully watched over, may not the same ha\e taken place in many other cities : This however is true only of the infe- rior or popular schools. ; The , i mi.ifii.riyt.it '. see Petit, iii. Tit. iv. p. 3.~>f>. SCIENCES IN CONNECTION WITH THE STATE. 279 the sciences to provide for themselves ? Should it not rather encourage and provide for them in countries, where the culture of most of them is in several rela- tions necessary for its welfare ? Where the teacher of religion 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 arnon^ the moderns. How .then can we be aston- ished 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 inquirv on that subject, some remarks respecting history. After so many acute and copious explanations of the 280 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. Grecian philosophy, no one will here expect a new ana- lysis of their systems. It is our object to show how the connection 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 generally known. If, as a modern historical critic has made to ap- pear very probable, 1 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 man- ner the philosophy of the Greeks gained its independence, while in the East it always remained connected with re- ligion. Still it is nowhere mentioned, that the philoso- phers who belonged to this school, had made the state the object of their inquiries ; yet if we consider Anaxa- goras as of the number, his connection with Pericles, and the influence which by means of his instructions he ex- ercised over that statesman, are remarkable. But, as we observed in a former chapter, no instruction in a philosophic system was given ; but in the appli- cation of some propositions in natural philosophy to practical politics. Plutarch has preserved for us the true object. " He freed Pericles," says the biographer, 2 " from that superstition, which proceeds from false judg- ments respecting auguries and prodigies, by explaining to him their natural causes." He who bears in mind SCIENCES IN CONNECTION WITH THE STATE. 281 the great influence exercised by this belief or supersti- tion on the undertakings of the statesmen of antiquity, will not mistake the importance of such instruction ; and he will also understand the consequences, which could follow this diminution of respect for the popular religion in the eyes of the multitude. The persecution of Anax- agoras for denying the gods, and exercising his reason respecting celestial things, 1 could not be averted by Peri- cles himself; who was obliged to consent to the banish- ment of the philosopher. And this was the commence- ment of the contest between philosophy and the popular religion ; a contest, which was afterwards repeatedly re- newed, 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. 2 If we desire to estimate the influence of his philosophy on the state, we must by all means distinguish the influence of the Pythagorean league on the cities of Magna Gnecia, from the influence of his philosophy on Greece itself, after that league had come to an end. 1 Plutarch, i. p. 054, G55. 4 We cannot exactly fix the year of the birth or of the death of Pythagoras. 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 league, which existed at that time", was afterwards, about the year 500 B.C., dis- solved by Cylon and his faction. Little would remain to be added to the critical inquiries of Meiners respecting the Pythagorean Philosophy, if he had not almost wholly neglected to treat of the political doctrines of Pythagoras. 36 282 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. 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 fre- quently in the Grecian states. Pythagoras had deserted Samos, to escape from the government of Polycrates ; and whatever scruples may be raised respecting his other journeys, 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 man- ner 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 hiii), 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 wore Inclined to exalt him above the class of com- mon mortals. 1 A comparison of the history of the seve- ral cities in Magna Grsecia, at the time of his appearing in them, distinctly shows, that 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 bo formed ; and the controversies of the two SCIENCES IN CONNECTION WITH THE STATE. 283 soon occasioned the destruction of Sybaris. 1 Pythago- ras, who was anything rather than a friend to the mob, joined the party of the higher order ; which in its turn found support in his splendid talents. But this was the period in which luxury had risen in those cities, and es- pecially 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. 2 Being in- timately connected with the higher order, he united them in a narrower circle ; and necessity soon occasioned a distinction to be made between the class of those who were on probation, and those who were already admit- ted. 3 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 methodical division of time, part of which was to be ap- propriated to the individual himself and part to the state. And this may have contributed not a little to form those firm friendships, without which not much influence on public affairs can be exercised in republics. His ac- quaintance with speculative and mathematical science need not here be mentioned, since it is altogether 1 The part}' of the nobles, 500 in number, fled after their banishment from thence to Croton, and prayed for protection ; which they received principally by the advice of Pythagoras. Diod. xii. p. 77. Wechel. The passages which prove that those cities had aristocratical constitutions, may be found in Meiners, i. 306. 2 See the passages in evidence of this, and the incredible sensation produced by him, in Meiners, i. p. 39G. 3 Therefore in Herod, ii. 81, the Pythagorean sect is enumerated among the mysteries. 284 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. unknown to us, how far he applied it to political pur- poses. When we consider, that his society, of which he him- self 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 dis- ciples 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 ad- vised the reception of the banished ; J and in the war against Sybaris, one of his most distinguished scholars, the wrestler Milo, 2 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. 3 But in this case, the oppo- sition existed already in the popular party. 4 It 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. x\fter such a victory of the ad- verse faction, the expulsion of the rest of the Pythago- 1 Diod. 1. c. 2 Violent bodily exercises formed a part of the discipline of Pythagoras. Six times in one Olympiad, prizes at Olympia were gained in those days by inhabit- ants of Croton, Must not this too have contributed to increase the fame of Pythagoras ? 3 Need 1 cite the example of the llluminati ? 4 Cylon. the author of that commotion, is described as the leader of the demo- cratic party ; and this is proved by the anarchy which ensued after the catastro- phe, and continued till order was restored by the mother cities in Achaia. SCIENCES IN CONNECTION WITH THE STATE. 285 reans who remained alive, from their offices, was a natu- ral 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 wor- thy of credit, and of whom accounts and fragments have been preserved, especially in the collections of Stobaeus. " They regarded anarchy," says Arisloxenus, 1 " as the greatest evil ; because man cannot exist without social order. They held that every thing depended on the re- lation 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 magis- trates ; 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 Pytha- goreans, as of Archytas, Diotogenes, and Hippodamus, 2 we perceive that they were not blindly attached to a single form of government ; but only insisted that there should be no unlawful tyranny. Where a royal govern- ment existed, kings should be subject to the laws, and act only as the chief magistrates. 3 They regarded a mixed constitution as the best ; and although they were far from desiring unlimited democracies, they desired quite as little unlimited aristocracies ; but even where the 1 Stob. Serm. xli. p. 243. This evidence is taken either from Aristoxenus, or from Aristotle himself, and therefore, according to Meiners, not to be rejected. 2 Meiners considers all these writings ns not genuine. His reasoning how- ever does not apply to the political fragments, which are to be found in cap. xli. and xliii. 3 See in particular the fragments of Archytas. Seim xliv. p. 314. 286 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. administration resided principally in the hands of the upper class, they reserved a share of it for the people. 1 Though the political agency of the society terminated 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 polit- ical importance, only so far as they contributed to the education of individual distinguished 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 scientific instruc- tion. Yet Plutarch, in a remarkable passage, 2 speaks of a political school which had been kept up in Athens, from the time of Solon. " Themistocles," says he, " could not have been a pupil of Anaxagoras, as some contend. He was a disciple of Mnesiphilus, who was neither an orator, nor one of the physical philosophers; 3 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 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 sau'c. But the words of the biographer himself, show 1 Compare tho fragment of Diotogcnes, cap. xlvi. p 32f). " In Themistocles, Op. i. p. 440. j The f'-niait and Eleatic saffcs SCIENCES IN CONNECTION WITH THE STATE. 287 clearly enough, that no methodical instruction was given ; but principles of practical wisdom, consisting in maxims for the conducting of public affairs, and drawn from ex- perience ; maxims of which the few remaining poetical fragments of the lawgiver contain so valuable a store. From this practical direction, the Grecian philosophers after the times of Pythagoras entirely withdrew ; and devoted themselves altogether to metaphysical specula- tions. They were employed in inquiries respecting the elements, and the nature of things ; and came necessa- rily 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, Parmenides, 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 ; and because wise men were selected for counsellors. In one point a nearer relation existed between their philosophy and the state ; we mean in their diminishing or attempting 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 de- tect its weaknesses. This we hear was done by Xeno- phanes, who with equal boldness used bitter expressions 1 As Einpedocles in Agrigentum ; who is said to have refused the diadem, and confirmed the liberties of the people. Diog. Laurt. viii. ii. 0. 288 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. respecting the gods and the epic poets who have invent- ed about the gods such indecent fables. 1 This contra- diction between philosophy and the popular religion, is on the one side the most certain proof of the indepen- dence of the former ; but it was also the point, in which the state and philosophy came in contact, not without danger to the state, and if not to philosophy itself, yet to the philosophers. Yet however far the speculations of those reasoners were removed from the state and from politics, the spirit of the times and necessity created many points of con- tact ; which serve to explain the appearance of the soph- ists, and the part which they acted. Without regarding their doctrines, we may find their external character de- signated by the circumstance, that they were the first who gave instruction for pay. This presupposes that the want of scientific instruction 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 the whole instruction of the sophists. But it was of ii'reat importance, that the minds of men had bren employed and continued to be employed so much with those metaphysical questions, which, as they from their very nature can never be answered with certainty, a iv well suited for disputation, and admit so various answers. From the copious inquiries which have been made 1 Dioo-. Latrt. ix. ii. 3. SCIENCES IN CONNECTION WITH THE STATE. 289 respecting the sophists by modern writers of the history of philosophy, 1 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 Leon'tium in Si- cily ; 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 re- markable proof, how generally, since the Persian wars, a literary spirit had begun to animate the nation. Most of those men, it is true, removed to Athens ; to which place Gorgias was sent as ambassador during the Pelo- ponnesian war ; because this city, so long as it held the first rank, opened the widest and most profitable theatre for their exertions ; but they also often travelled through the cities of Greece in the train of their pupils ; met 1 Yet even after all that has here been done by Meiners, Tenneman, and others, many things remain obscure ; for the explanation of which, the founda- tion must be laid in a more accurate chronology of the sophists. The learned dissertation of Gcel Historia Critica Sopldstiirum, qui Socratis (ctatc Micnis flo- rucrunt in J\'ova Ada liter aria Socictatis Rhcno TrajcctineE 1823, treats only of the age of Socrates ; yet it explains the difference between rhetoricians and sophists ; and the causes of the origin of the sophists. Even the sophists before the Macedonian times (of a later period we here make no mention,) did not continue the same ; and \ve should do Gorgias and Protagoras great injus- tice, were we to place them in the same rank with those, against whom the aged Isocrates in his Panathenaicus, Op. p. 23G, and De Sophistis, p. 2!)3, makes such bitter complaints. Gorgias. Protagoras, and Hippias, were commonly called the elder sophists ; of whom Gorrr'ias is said to have come to Athens in the year 427 as ambassador, iilthough 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, the sophists had already been long established at Athens. It appears that the great celebrity and wealth of the sophists commenced in the times of Gorgias and the follow- ing. In the Clouds, Socrates and his pupils are represented so far from being rich, as poor wretches, who do not know how they are to subsist from one day to another. 37 290 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. with the kindest reception ; and were employed as coun- sellors in public affairs, and not unfrequently as ambas- sadors. They gave instruction at a high price to all young men who joined them, in every branch of know- ledge, deemed essential to their education. This un- doubtedly occasioned that boasting of universal know- ledge, 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 in- struction, philosophy as well as rhetoric. But that which they called philosophy, was, as with the scholastic phi- losophers, the art of confounding an opponent by syllo- gisms and sophisms; and the subjects about which they were most fond of speculating, were some of those meta- physical 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 rhetoricians formed distinct classes ; but the different classes, which Isocrates distinguished in his old a^e, 1 could hardly have been so decidedly marked in his youth. The precepts and the very name of the sophists be- came 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 1 Isocrates, Op. p. 293. etc. SCIENCES IN CONNECTION WITH THE STATE. 291 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 rhe- toric could not but be acceptable. But in two respects, they soon became injurious and even dangerous to the state ; by reducing 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 per- suades 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 naturally arises the art of proving the contrary proposition ; and the art of dis- puting 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 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 connection, which existed between the elder sophists and their pre- decessors 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 de- 292 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. served the name of atheist ;* jet no circumstance pro- bably 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 concerning him, and all the observations of modern historians, 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 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 expecta- tions and designs. These hardly had reference to poste- rity. Every thing seems to indicate, that they were calculated 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 1 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 Tenne- mann. Gesch. d. Phil. i. S. 377. SCIENCES IN CONNECTION WITH THE STATE. 293 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 philosophy ; 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 sophists were brooding over mere speculations, and their contests were but con- tests 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 re- marked 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 instruction neither in his house, nor in any fixed place; the public squares and halls were the favorite scenes of his conversations. For such instruction a proper audience can be found only in a nation, in which private life is in a very high degree public in its nature. This W 7 as the case with the Athe- nians. 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 re- 294 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. preaches 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. 1 The manner in which he taught, was not less impor- tant. It was by conversation, not by continued discourse. He had therefore adopted the very manner which is most suitable to public places. But in two respects, his con- versation, apart from the matter it contained, was distin- guished from the common intercourse of life. The one was the irony which he knew how to introduce, espe- cially 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 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 appear- ance 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. 1 From tliis point of resemblance, I think we may explain how Aristophanes could confound Socrates with the sophists. He represents him as giving instruc- tion for money, and in a house of his own, appropriated to study (iffioman'oior) ; and these two circumstances are true of the sophists, hut not of Socrates. I can therefore discover in his Socrates nothing but the representative of the sophists. To lie sure the comic poet would have better provided for his reputation with posterity, if he had brought a Prodicus or Gorgirs upon the stage instead of Socrates SCIENCES IN CONNECTION WITH THE STATE. 295 But he became a martyr to his doctrines. It would be superfluous to prove anew, the groundlessness of the charges, that he denied the popular religion, and was a corrupter of the youth. 1 But we will not neglect to ob- serve, that by his death he produced even more impor- tant 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 connection with his doctrines, he exhibited in reality one of those sublime ideal conceptions, of which the Grecian nation alone is so fertile ; he presented what till then had been wanting, the image of a sage who dies for his convictions. The philosophy of Socrates had no immediate rela- tions with politics. Its object was man, considered as a moral being, not as a citizen. Hence it was indirectly of the more importance to the state ; since it was no- thing 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 the failure be attributed to Socrates ? From his school, or rather, from his circle, a number of distinguished minds were produced, who in part dif- fered from each other in their opinions and systems, as opposite poles. This could not have happened, but be- cause Socrates had no system, and hence laid no chains on the spirit of inquiry. He would but excite the minds 1 See, beside the works on the history of philosophy, the Essay of Tychsen, Ueber den Process des Socrates, in Bibl. d. alten Litt. u. Kunst. St. 1. 2. 296 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. of others ; and hence we perceive how there could have been among his associates, 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 philosophy of these men was in no manner connected with politics, we pass over them ; that we may not leave unmentioned 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 o his eye was undeviatirigly 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 un- changeable as the Divinity, 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 rather than knew ; may make many val- uable and correct 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 ethereal, is vain; for it then ceases to be ethe- real. 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 philosophically. It was only in a nation so thoroughly poetical, that a Plato could be produced. Socrates had contemplated man as a moral being; SCIENCES IN CONNECTION WITH THE STATE. 297 Plato's philosophy embraced the social union. Long before him, the state had so far become an object of speculation, that writers had endeavored to sketch the model of a perfect constitution. No more immediate oc- casion for such exercise could be found than in the Gre- cian 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 objects of thought. The first distinct attempt of this kind, as we expressly learn from Aristotle, 1 was made by Hippodamus of Miletus, who must have been a contemporary of Themistocles. 2 The marked separa- tion of the three classes of artists, agriculturists, and sol- diers ; and the division which he makes of land into sa- cred, public, 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. Investi- gations of constitutions and codes of laws now be- came subjects frequently treated of; they could hardly have much practical influence, since the days were past in which new lawgivers could have appeared in Greece. Of many works composed in those times, none have come down to us but the two treatises 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 gov- erns itself, and cannot be swayed by any impulse from a higher power, 3 nor be governed by another. Then it 1 Aristot. Polit. ii. cap. 8. 2 According to Aristotle, he was employed in the construction of the Piraeus, which was the work of Themistocles. 3 We would here especially refer to the following excellent treatise. J. L. G. de Geer. Diatribe in Politices Platonicse Principia. Trajeati ad Rhenum, 1810. 38 298 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. 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 prac- tical philosophy, was made the object of inquiry and dis- cussion. The later writers may perhaps have answered them differently and with greater acuteness ; but .to the 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 Epicurean to the Cyrenaic, that of the later skeptics to that of Pyrrho and the Eleatic school, these subjects we leave to be ex- plained by some writer, who is capable of giving, not a voluminous, but succinct and spirited account of the ef- forts made among the Greeks by the understanding, as employed on subjects of philosophy. If the relation of philosophy to the political institutions must be estimated by its reaction on them, the reverse is in some measure true of the science of history. This stands in connection with the state, inasmuch 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 revolutions became common. But every- thing proceeded from the history of their native country; this always remained the central point. And here again we perceive the just views of the Greeks. Is not each nation the nearest object to itself? And next to the SCIENCES IN CONNECTION WITH THE STATE. 299 present moment, what can interest it more than its own previous condition ? This was early and very generally felt ; and if histori- cal accounts have been preserved but scantily or not at all, the fault is to be attributed, not to the want of exer- tions to ensure that end, but to the imperfection of the means which the nations could control ; that is, not merely to the want of an alphabet, but of the materials which are used in writing. Persepolis, Thebes, Mexi- co, do not all these furnish distinct proofs of the truth of our remark ? But not less depended on the circumstance, whether any persons, a peculiar class or cast in the nation, were commissioned to record the events as they passed. Where a priesthood existed, the preparing of the calen- dar, however imperfect or perfect it might be, was their business ; and to this it was easy to add the writing of annals. The Greeks had no such separate order of priests ; and hence we hear nothing of any annals which they possessed. 1 Yet religion still did something for history. A multitude of relations, preserving the memory of early events, were associated with the consecrated offerings in the temples. How often are these referred to by Hero- dotus ? and the historical remarks of Pausanias are almost always made in connection with them. But they could neither fix a succession of time, nor do more than confirm single facts. 1 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. 300 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. The history, therefore, of the Greeks emanaled 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 in- vention, because it was originally poetical. Indeed, it never entirely lost that character. The subjects of his- tory, as presented by tradition, were only interwoven with fictions. But it is obvious of itself, that the char- acter 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 valor 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 dis- tinguished than the rest, as Hercules and Jason, became the heroes of the nation, and therefore the favorites of the poets. And after the first great national enterprize, after Troy had fallen, need we be astonished that the historic muse preferred this to all other subjects ? All this is too well known to need any more copious exposition. 1 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 1 See Heyne. Historiee scribend inter Greecos primordia. Comment. Soc. Sc. Getting, vol. xiv. SCIENCES IN CONNECTION WITH THE STATE. 301 the cities in Greece and of the colonies. The founding of cities (xr/aetc;) therefore formed an essential part of the earlier history. But cities were founded by heroes ; and the traditions respecting these things were therefore in- timately 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 agreeable 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, though in subject and form most intimately connected with other poems, were yet specially commemorative of the founding of the several cities. The class embraced, it is true, cities of the mother country ;* but chiefly related to the colonies ; for their establishment, intimately interwoven with the history of heroes, offered the richest materials. 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 1 Especially Athens. Here is (lie source of the lake Atthides. So too Eu- melus has celebrated in song the oldest history of Corinth. Bibliothek d. alten Lilt, und Kunst. ii. 94. Of narratives respecting colonies, we would cite that of Herodotus on the origin of Cyrene ; of which the poetic source seems unques- tionable. How many similar relations in Pausanias betray the same origin ? 302 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. was indelibly so. When the first writers appeared who made use of prose, this character 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. 1 " The earliest writers," says he, " Cadmus of Miletus, Pherecydes, Hecatseus, preserved 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 writing." The opinion of Cicero seems there- fore to have been ill founded, when he compares the oldest historians, and particularly Pherecydes with the earliest annalists of the Romans, Fabius Pictor and Cato, 2 whose style was certainly not poetical. The larger number and the earliest of the narrators of traditions, 3 as Herodotus styles them in distinction from the epic poets, were lonians. Epic poetry was followed by narrations in prose, in the very countries where it had been cultivated most 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 springing 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 ex- plaining therefore the origin of historic science among the Greeks, it may perhaps be proper to remember, that they participated in the character of the oriental nations; although they merit the glory of having sub- 1 Strabo. i. p. 34. 5 Cicero de Oratore, ii. 12. 3 The /r/o;ou0o(, as Hecatseus and others. SCIENCES IN CONNECTION WITH THE STATE. 303 sequently given to that science its true and peculiar character. But in the period in which the prose style of narra- tion was thus forming, the improvement of historic science appears to have been promoted by several very natural causes. The larger number and the most celebrated of those mythological historians lived and flourished in the latter half of the sixth century before the Christian era ; that is, not long before the commencement of the Persian wars. 1 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 several others whom Dionysius of Halicarnassus enumerates. 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 travelling had begun to be common. From the title of the works of these narrators of traditions, it is evident that they were not careful 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 description of the coasts of the countries. A proof of this is found in the catalogue of the writings of Hellanicus the Lesbian, one O O ' of the latest of them. 2 1 Between the GOth and 70th Olympiad, or 540 500 years B. C. * See Creuzer's Historic Art among the Greeks in its Origin and Progress. Compare Dahlmann's Historical Inquiries, in the Life of Herodotus, p. 108, especially on Hecataius. 304 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. These remarks, when considered in connection, 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 extended to foreign countries, kept 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 free- dom ; and was never held by the priests in bondage to religion. As poetry had for a long time been the means of its preservation, 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 improvements in the art of writing; and the deficiency of our accounts on this subject 1 is one of the chief reasons why we are so little able to mark the progress of its particular branches. But whatever influence these causes may have exercised ; the great reason which retarded historic science before He- rodotus, lay in the want of subjects. Before the Persian wars, there was no subject capable of inspiring the historian. The Trojan war, the Argo- nautic expedition, all great undertakings, belonged to tradition, and hence belonged more than half to poetry. The narrations of the origin of the individual cities, ac- counts of distant nations and countries, might gratify curiosity, might afford amusement ; but nothing more. There existed no great national subject of universal in- terest. 1 See Wolfii Prolcgom. p. xl. etc. SCIENCES IN CONNECTION WITH THE STATE. 305 At length came the Persian wars. The victory at Marathon first awakened the spirit of valor ; whether this was more inflamed by the defeat at Thermopylae, or the victory at Salamis, it is difficult to say ; with the battle of Plata3a3, freedom was saved. What a subject for the historic Muse ! This subject, from its very nature, belonged exclusively 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 mytho- logy. How much more, then, at a time, when the bounds between history and tradition had not yet been in the slightest degree marked out. Herodotus employed himself on this subject, and managed it in a manner which surpassed all expectation. 1 1 Dahlmann in 1S23 published his careful criticism on the life of the father of History, in the second volume of his Historical Inquiries. Herodot. ; aus seinem Buche sein Leben. The critic recognises the value of the great historian, to whose just fame I hope by this work to have contributed something ; yet he proves, that on many points an uncertainty prevails, sufficient to warrant a dif- ference of opinion. I count, among thsm, the time of the composition and pub- lication of the work of Herodotus. Certainly in its present form, it is not the production of his youth ; and it is quite as improbable, that it could have been written after his seventy-seventh year. The mention by Dahlmann of several events as late as 408 B. C., warrants an inference only as to the time when Ue- rodotus published his work, not as to the time when he wrote it. The death of Amyrtaeus of Syncellus, as Dahlmann remarks, and as the new Armenian edi- tion of Eusebius confirms, happened eight years earlier, that is 416 B. C.; and if the Darius, mentioned i. 130, is Darius Nothus, it is surprising, that he is not more precisely designated. The most natural inference is, that Herodotus, as a young man, collected his materials on his travels, wrote it at Thurium in the ma- turity of manhood, about 444 B. C. ; but did not publish it till his old age. That he formed his design early and travelled to further it, cannot be doubted. How 39 306 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. Many things, it is true, served to facilitate his labor. Many attempts had been made to explain the earliest history of cities and nations ; travelling had been render- ed easy by the extensive commerce of the Grecian cities, and several of his predecessors are known to have visited many countries ;' the mythological writers (jUyoj'fdqpw) had already formed the language for prosaic narration ; and the nation for which he wrote, was already awake 'to the beauties of historic composition. Still he was the first who undertook to treat of a 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. 2 Continuing the thread of his story from the times when controversies first arose between the Hellenes and the barbarians, till those when at Platsese the war was terminated so gloriously for the Greeks, Hellas, attacked but liberated, became the great subject of his narration ; opportunities were con- stantly presenting themselves or were introduced, of interweaving 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 returns from every episode. He had himself visited the greater part of these countries and nations ; had seen them with his own eyes ; had collected information from the most many an additional inquiry was necessary as he composed it ! It was a work, fit to employ a lonir life. 1 As Hecat.if'iis and Pherecydes. 2 Only the history of the Assyrians he reserved for a separate work ; i. 184. This he probably never wrote. Dahhnann, p. 227. SCIENCES IN CONNECTION WITH THE STATE. 307 credible sources. But when he enters upon the anti- quities 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 earlier historians (the AoyoypcigxH). It is no longer necessary to appear as his de- fender ; 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 Herodotus, 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 deliberation 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 become, not his imitator, but his successor. 1 1 That Thucydides was not present as a hearer of Herodotus, is clearly proved by Dahlmann, p. 20 and 216. Had he, as a youth of sixteen in the year 456 B. C., listened to Herodotus, he must have formed his purpose of becoming 1 an historian at least two-and-thirty years before he carried it into effect, and before he had chosen a subject ; for his biographer, Marcellinus, informs us, that he did not write his history till after his exile, that is, after the year 424 B C. The nar- rative of Lucian, that Herodotus read his history aloud at Olyrnpia. contains no 308 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. Thucydides appeared. His predecessor had written 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 depends ; though others, especially the ancient cities, looked for it in his style, his eloquence, and other secondary matters. By this means he advanced the science of history in a higher degree than he himself was aware of. His subject made him necessarily a critic. The storm of the Persian wars had been terrific, but transitory. During its continuance, no historian 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 valor, with what emotions did the Greek look back upon those 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 date ; the assumption that it was in 45G B. C., rests on the anecdote about Thu- cydides. which Lucian does not mention. Why then may it not have taken place at a later day : Lucian may have colored the narrative, but hardly invented it. That such readings took place, not before the whole people. but only before those interested, follows of course ; and if Herodotus read not his whole work, but only a part of it, (and his work was probably finished by portions) the difficulties suggested by Dahlmann, disappear. These remarks are designed not to prove the truth of the narrative, but to show, that it does not involve improbabilities. SCIENCES IN CONNECTION WITH THE STATE. 309 democrat, a friend of Athens or of Sparta, was the ques- tion on which depended fortune, liberty, and life. A beneficent reverse rescued Thucydides from the whirl- pool ; and gave him that immortality, which the capture of Amphipolis never could have conferred on him. 1 The fruit of his leisure was the history of his age ; a work he himself proposed to write, and actually wrote, for eternity. 2 This is not the place to eulogize the man, who re- mained calm amidst all the turbulence of the passions, the only exile that has written an impartial history. His acquaintance with states and business, his deep political acuteness, his style, nervous, though occasion illv uncouth, have all been illustrated by others. We will only al- low ourselves to show, by a few remarks, how much his- toric 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 com- pared with that of the modern writer, who compiles it from many written documents. He was compelled to investigate every thing by personal inquiry ; 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 ils nature any epic interest. The subject was thoroughly prosaic ; setting before the writer no other aim, than that of ex- 1 After Amphipolis had been taken by Erasidas, Thucydides was accused of having come too late to the assistance of that city, and was banished by the Athenian people ; he actually passed twenty years in exile in Thrace, where he possessed valuable mines. Let Thucydides himself be heard on this subject, iv. 104, and v. 26. " Krfiua il$ ad. Thucyd. i. 22. 310 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. hibit'ng 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 honor and respect him, because, penetrated with the consciousness of his dignity, he never for a moment becomes untrue to it. A senti- ment 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 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 mantle of tradition ; and he who scrutinized every thing with care, was not caught by its delusive splendor. He endeavored to contemplate anti- quity, 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 in- i :ite 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 his- toric Muse had made him acquainted with her most secret nature ; no one before or after him has drawn the line more clearly between history and tradition. And what is tliis, 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 SCIENCES IN CONNECTION WITH THE STATE. 31 1 the whole scientific 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 de- veloped, arid in the East never. It is therefore just to say, that Thucydides advanced 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 interwoven with Grecian history, to admit of an entire separation. A Theopompus and Ephorus, whenever the heroic age was to be dis- cussed, drew their materials with as little concern from the writers of mythological 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 de- serves 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 succes- sors ! By the mildness and modesty of his personal character, Xenophon 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 quali- ties, which the genius of Caesar knew how to impart to his commentaries. Thus in the period of their freedom, all the principal kinds of history were developed among the Greeks. What was done afterwards, can hardly be called progress, al- 312 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. though 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 uni- versal 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 mariner in which a subject was treated, was regarded ; not the sub- ject itself. The essence was forgotten in disputes about the form. We have abundant proofs of this in the judg- ments of Dionysius of Halicarnassus, who has neverthe- less been usually mentioned as the first of these critics. POETRY IN CONNECTION WITH THE STATE. 313 CHAPTER XV. POETRY AND THE ARTS IN CONNECTION WITH THE STATE. WHETHER in our inquiries on the political institutions of Greece, their poetry and arts must be considered, 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 connection ? 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 po- etry. We place the arts in immediate connection 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 1 is per- fectly true, that the masterpieces of the plastic art fur- nish the best commentary on the tragedians. Although it is not always the same persons whom the poets and the sculptors bring before us, we yet derive from them our conceptions of the ideal forms. He who has seen the sublime figures of Niobe and of Laocoon, can easily rep- 1 A. W. Schlegel, fiber dramatische Kunst und Lilteratur, Til. i. s. G7. A. W. Schlegel, on Dramatic Literature. 40 314 CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. resent to his mind an Electra or an (Edipus in the forms under which they floated in the mind of the poet. With the advancing culture of Greece, the connection between poetry and arts, and the state, increased ; and was most intimate in its most flourishing age. Even the earliest lawgivers of the Greeks regarded poetry as the chief means of forming the character of youth ; and of exercising an influence on their riper years. But in an age when there was as yet no literature, 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 expression of the feelings of the poet, was much more intimately 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 that 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 law- givers. 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 greatest moment, the best means of influencing them ; and we need not be astonished, when we read in Plutarch 1 and other writers, of the great severity with which the laws, especially in Sparta, insisted on the preservation of the ancient music, and the established tunes. It may be difficult in our davs, when music is no longer considered the lever of national force, 3 to form any distinct idea of those insti- 1 In his Fssay DC Musica. Op. ii p. 1131. - 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. POETRY IN CONNECTION WITH THE STATE. 315 tutions of the ancients. But as human nature is never untrue to itself, institutions 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 regiment is raised without its band ; and the commander, who instead of a warlike march should order a dirge to be played, w 7 ouid 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 connected with the popular religion ; or was in fact a result of it ; for hymns in praise of the gods are mentioned as its first fruits. 1 It was therefore important to the state as a sup- port 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, even independent of the drama, were the chief ornament of the festivals ; and were composed of persons of vari- ous ages. There were those of youths, of men, and of the aged ; which responded to each other alternately in song. 2 As the festivals were a public concern, so too were the choruses ; and we have no cause to be aston- 1 "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 2 See in particular the whole oration of Demosthenes against Midias, who had abused Demosthenes as choragus, or leader of the chorus. 316 CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. ished, 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. 3 Although it was capable of receiving great ornaments and did actually receive them, it did not necessarily re- quire any great preparations. The similar spectacles which modern travellers have witnessed in the islands of the South Sea, especially the Society Islands, 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 connection with the state. But this inquiry goes very deeply into its nature. A question arises of a twofold character : What did the state do for the drama, and in what re- spects was the drama, by its nature and organization, 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 deco- rations, however splendid or paltry they may be ; and an assembly, before which the representation may be made. Dramatic poetry is therefore essentially more public than that of any other description. Of all kinds of verse, this concerns the state the most nearly. Among the Greeks we may add, that it was an affair of religion, and there- fore an essential part of their festivals. But these festi- vals were entirely an affair of the state ; they belonged, as has been observed above, to the most urgent political 1 See the Hymn, in Apoll. v. 147, &c. respecting the choruses at the Ionian festivals in Delos. POETRY IN CONNECTION WITH THE STATE. 317 wants. Here then we find a reason why the state should not only have so much encouraged dramatic exhi- bitions, but have even considered them no less essential than the popular assemblies and popular tribunals. A Grecian state could not exist without festivals, nor festi- vals 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 appa- rent 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 decorated at the public ex- pense ; 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 Hercula- neum ; 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 splendor ; which in our times we may observe in our larger cities, compared with the smaller or provin- cial towns. But from the remains of the Grecian thea- tres, 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 in- fluence, 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 Q.tnov^iui}, which the opulent were obliged to bear in rotation, or which they voluntarily as- 318 CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. sumed. 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 ex- pense was considered 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 phrensy ; and the preservation of tranquil- lity 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 jEschylus 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 bc^an to be developed in that city. The contests of the poets, which were introduced there at the festivals 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 emulation. It was about this time that Athens began to be the seat of lite- rature, and in the scale of political importance the first 1 The occasion is related by Suidas in HOOT/I ?. At the representation of a play of ^Eschylus, the wooden scaffold, on which the spectators stood, gave way. POETRY IN CONNECTION WITH THE STATE. 319 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 with- out being the capital in the same degree as Paris and London, her great superiority in intellectual culture se- cured to* her that supremacy, which was the more glori- ous, as it rested not on violence, but on the voluntary concession of her preeminence. I am acquainted with no investigation of 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 in- troduced into the other cities before the Macedonian age. Neither tragic nor comic poets were at home in Athens exclusively : but started up in the most various regions of the Grecian world. 1 Athenian poets were invited to resort to the courts of foreign princes. 2 A king of Syracuse was himself a tragic poet. 3 In the same city, Athenian captives regained their liberty by fragments from the tragedies of Euripides. The inhab- itants of Abdcra, when their fellow-citizen Archelaus played the part of Andromeda, were seized with a the- atric passion bordering on madness. 4 Other proofs, if 1 Abundant proof may be found in Fabricii Bibl. Gr. T. i. in the Catalog.. Tra({icorutn and Comicorum deperditorum. '* Euripides was invited to repair to the court of Archelaus, king of Mace- donia. 3 Dionysius the elder. A fragment of his has been preserved in Stob. Eclog. i. iv. 19. 4 Lucian. de conscrib. histor. Op. iv. p. 159, Bip. CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. 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 remaining pieces of a single comic poet to judge of the hundreds 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 comedy was still per- mitted to preserve its republican character, 1 tragedy and comedy, as there were no intermediate kinds, 2 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; 3 comedy, on the contrary, was the parody of the present ; as we shall hereafter illustrate more fully. 1 The old comedy, as it was called. 2 The satvric drama, as it was called, was not an intermediate class, but a corruption of tragedy. 3 Two plays, the Persians of /Eschylus, and the Destruction of Miletus of Phrynichus formed exceptions. But they had no imitators ; and the last men- tioned poet was even punished for it by the Athenians. Herod, vi. 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 passions, 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 altogether 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 ob- tained a certain solemn support which gave it dignity. POETRY IN CONNECTION WITH THE STATE. 321 In these explanations, the whole difference of the two has been expressed. Tragedy was in certain respects a result of epic poetry. For this had always preserved the recollection of the he- roic 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 weav- ing of a plot, was only so far a duty of the poet, as the nature of the drama requires ; grandeur and liveliness of manner were on the contrary far more in the spirit of the heroic \vorld. Not the event, but the character of the action, was important. Whether the issue was for- tunate or unfortunate, was a matter of indifference ; but it was necessary that the action should be in itself sub- lime ; should be the result of the play of the passions ; and should never depart from the gravity, which is as it were the coloring of the world of heroes. In this con- sists the tragic part of the drama. But though the final event was in itself indifferent, the poets naturally pre- ferred subjects, in which it was unfortunate for the chief personages. In such the tragic interest was the great- est ; the catastrophe the most fearful ; the effect least uncertain. A tragic issue suited best the whole charac- ter of the kind of poetry. The tragic drama could have but few points of rela- tion 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 41 CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. 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 produced by these representations, may have been politically 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 belonging to it, the tragic poets did much to preserve that elevated tone. And if this elevated spirit formed 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 re- lation to the present and not to the past. We have 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 1 A. W. Schlr-gel, 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 ridiculing the former. The readers of Aristophanes know this. Yet we must be very careful how we thus confine the range of comedy. It was not essentially a parody. POETRY IN CONNECTION WITH THE STATE. 323 points of contact were so many and so various, that the comic poet could not but frequently present views of private life. The relation of comedy was therefore alto- gether political, so far as we comprehend every thing public under this word. But the scenes which were ex- hibited, were not represented 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 necessity, where a popular government exists ; and in those times what other such tribunal could have existed than the theatre ? Whatever excited public attention, 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 did not escape this fate ; nay, the people of Athens itself had the satis- faction of seeing itself personified, and brought upon the stage, where it could laugh at itself, till it was satisfied with mirth ; ! and crowned the poet for having done it. What is our freedom of the press, our licentiousness of the press, compared with this dramatic freedom and licentiousness ? But though the ridicule of the comic poets could not much injure the individual against whom it chanced to be directed, the question is still by no means answered, ' As in the Knights of Aristophanes. 324 CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. What consequences had the comic drama for the state, and for morals, which with the Greeks were inseparably connected with the 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, notwithstanding all the attacks of the comic poets, 1 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 can- not 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 cor- responding 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 na- tions, may here easily be mistaken. The jokes of Har- lequin, especially in his extemporaneous performances, are often hardly less unrestrained than those of Aris- tophanes ; 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 consequences. Another important point is the influence of comedy on the religion of the people. The comic poets were care- ful 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 1 Specimens of them may be seen Plutarch. Op i. p. 020. THE ARTS IN CONNECTION WITH THE STATE. 325 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 impres- sions must have been made. The ancient comedy has commonly been called a po- litical farce ; and the expression is just, if we interpret 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. 1 As this new kind lost. its local character with the personal allusions, the old obstacles to its diffusion throughout the Grecian world no o longer existed. And though we may doubt whether the plays of Cratinus and Aristophanes were ever acted out of Athens, no question can certainly be raised with re- spect 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 connection 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 1 The difference of these kinds is best explained in the excellent work of Schlegel. i. p. 326. 326 CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. 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 indi- viduals. They afterwards became so, yet never in the same degree as with us ; nor even as with the Romans. These positions 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, endeavored to unite them both ; and in this manner private buildings became objects of art. Among the Greeks, a tendency to this seems to have existed in the heroic age. In a former chapter, we re- marked that in the dwellings and halls of 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 repub- lican equality, gained ground, those differences in the dwellings disappeared of themselves ; and every thing which we read respecting private houses in every sub- sequent age, confirms us in the idea, that they could make no pretensions to elegance of construction. 1 It 1 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. THE ARTS IN CONNECTION WITH THE STATE. 327 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 imagining himself to be in the city, which contained the greatest masterpieces of architecture. The splendor of the city was not per- ceived till the public squares and the Acropolis were ap- proached. 1 The small dwellings of Themistocles and of Aristides were long pointed out; and the building of large houses was regarded as a proof of pride. 2 But when luxury increased, the houses were built on a larger ^ O scale; several chambers for the accommodation of stran- gers 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 to beauty. If a town, which was, it is true, but a provin- cial 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 establish our re- mark. 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 consid- erable public edifices. The number of temples remark- able for their architecture, was till that time a limited 1 Dicfearchus do Statu GrBBcise. cap 8. Fluds. 2 Demosthenes reproaches the wealthy Midias with his large house at Eleusis, which intercepted the light of others. Op. i p. 5(j5. 328 CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. 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 re- built by the Alemseonidse. 1 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 ad- dition to the Doric, which had been used till then, con- stituted 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. 2 About the same time Polycrates built the temple of Juno in Samos. The temples which afterwards 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 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 tem- ples of Agrigentum, were erected ; and that epoch is also subsequent to the Persian war. 3 And if those of the ancient Doric order, at Paesturn 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. 1 Ilorod. v. 0-2. - See the instructive disquisition : Der Tempel dor Diana zu Ephesus, von A. Ifirt. Herlin, ]H)0. ! A more accurate enumeration of the chief temples of the Greeks, and the periods in \v!m h they \\vre built, is to be found in Stieglitz, Gesc.hicb.te der Baukunst (i. r Alton. Leipzig. 1702. THE ARTS IN CONNECTION WITH THE STATE. 329 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 ob- served, that they were erected subsequently to the Per- sian wars. The same is true of the h ills for music. The porticos, those favorite places of resort to a people who lived so much in public, belonged in part to the temples, 1 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. 2 They were probably erect- ed 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 domes- tic 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 dwelling is intended to meet those 'very wants, and is in no respect founded on an idea connected with beauty. The temples are duel- lings 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 inventions. 1 As e. g. the i.i<~>-/\ at Olympia, respecting which Bottiger in his Geschichte der Mahlerey, B. i. s. 21)0, etc. has given us a learned essay. 2 On those at Athens, consult Stieglitz in loc. cit. p. 220. 42 330 CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. The plastic art 1 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 su- periority. 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 sur- pass that of painting. The works of both may be pub- lic, 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 : those of the plastic art, exist- ing 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 in- stance of a statue that belonged to a private man ; and if there exists any example, it is an exception which con- firms the general rule. 2 It may be said, that it is only accidental that we know of no such instances. But if 1 The phrase plastic art is used, because there is no other which embraces at once the works of stone and of bronze. - Or con the anecdote be cited, which Pausanias relates, p. i. 46, of the cun- ning of Phryne to gain possession of the ffod of love made by her lover Praxi- teles ? Kven if it be true, the fact is in our favor ;. for she consecrated it imme- diately as a public work of art in Thespian, Atlien. p. 591 ; in which city alone it was from that time to be seen. Cic. in \ er. ii. iv. 2. THE ARTS IN CONNECTION WITH THE STATE. 331 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 concluding that no such private tastes existed. Phidias and his successors, till the Macedonian age, did not therefore labor 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 incredible multitude of statues, which we have already mentioned, could never have been made. 1 This subject is so important, that it demands to be treated of more at large. 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 bought them ready made, to ornament the city and the public buildings. We have distinct evidence, that the great masterpieces of Phidias, Praxiteles, and Lysip- pus, owed their origin to this. Thus were produced the Jupiter at Olympia, 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 assistance. 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 1 The infinite wealth of Greece in treasures of this kind, has been so clearly exhibited in a late discourse 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. 332 CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. Costly presents. Yet the collections of statues and pic- tures which belonged to those temples, consisted, for the most part, of votive offerings. 1 But these were as often the tribute of gratitude from whole cities, as from indivi- duals. 2 The vanity of individuals contributed to the same end, by the custom of erecting statues, commonly of bronze, to the victors in the games. 3 When we remember the multitude of these games in Greece, the number of stat- ues will become intelligible ; 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 appropriate 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 Peri- cles, 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, exhib- ited the productions of their genius. 4 No trace is to be found of celebrated private pictures in those times. 5 1 Not to mention Olympia and Delphi again, we refer to the temple of Juno in Samos, Strab. L. xiv. p. 43S, 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 rilled several volumes. 2 The temples received such presents not only during the lifetime of the donors, hut as legacies. A remarkable instance of this is found in the will of Conon. who left 5000 pieces of gold (muriate) for that purpose. Lys. Or. Gr. v. p. (>:W. 3 See the passno-e in Pliny, xxxiv. 0. His remark that a statue was erected in honor of every victor at Olvmpia, seems hardly credible. Cf. Paus vi. p. 452. 4 See Botiiger. Ideen zur Archseologie der Mahlerey. B. i. s. 274, etc. s It is true, Andocides reproached Alcibiades, in his oration against him, of THE ARTS IN CONNECTION WITH THE STATE. 333 Yet portrait painting seems peculiarly to belong to private life. This branch of the art was certainly culti- vated among the Greeks ; but not till the Macedonian 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 Poecile, or pictured hall in Athens ; or the artists found a Tjlace for themselves or their mistresses in such public works. 1 But, properly speaking, portrait painting, as such, did not flourish till the times of Philip and Alexander ; and was first practised in the school of Apelles. 2 When pow- erful princes arose, curiosity or flattery desired to possess their likeness ; the artists were most sure of receiving compensation for such labors ; and private statues as well as pictures began to grow common ; although in most cases something of ideal beauty was added to the resem- blance. 3 We have ventured directly to assert, that the arts in their flourishing period belonged exclusively to public 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 paintings are not to be compared with those in the temples and porticos; which, as Bottiger has proved, Ideen, &c., s 282, were painted, not on the walls, but on wood. 1 Polygnotus, e. g. introduced the beautiful Elpinice, the daughter of Miltia- des, as Laodice. Pint iii p. 178. 2 This appears from the accounts in Plin. xxxv. xxxvi. 12, &c. 3 A confirmation, perhaps a more correct statement of these remarks, is ex- pected by every friend of the arts of antiquity in the continuation of Bottiger's Ideen zur Geschichte der Mahlerey. That in this period busts of individuals became for the same reason so much more numerous, has been illustrated by the same scholar in his Andeutungen, s. 183, etc. 334 CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. life ; and were not, according to the general opinion, which seems to have been silently adopted, divided be- tween 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 ap- plied to objects of domestic life, to articles of household furniture, to candelabra, vases, tapestry, and garments, will be denied by no one, who is acquainted with anti- quity. It was not till a Lucullus, a Verres, and others among the Romans, had gratified their taste as amateurs, that the arts were introduced into private life ; and yet even in Rome an Agrippa could propose to restore to the pub- lic all the treasures of the arts, which lay buried in the villas. 1 We should not therefore 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 grati- fying the luxury of individuals. And yet this never took place. This can be proved as well of the mother coun- try, as of the richest of the colonies. Pausanias in the second century after the Christian 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 col- lections. Every thing was in his day, as before, public 1 Plin. xxxv. cap. ix. THE ARTS IN CONNECTION WITH THE STATE. 335 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, wherever he could find them ; and his accusers will hardly be suspected of having concealed any thing. But in this accusation, with one single exception, 1 none but public works of art are mentioned. What shall we infer from this, but that no considerable productions of the fine arts were possessed by private persons in Sicily ? 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 profanations of the Romans. And this is the chief cause of their flourishing. They thus fulfilled their destiny ; belonging, not to indi- viduals, but to cultivated humanity. They should consti- tute a common property. Even in our times, when indi- viduals are permitted to possess them, censure is incurred if others are not allowed to enjoy them. But even where this privilege is conceded, it is not a matter of indiffer- ence, whether an individual or the nation is the possessor. The respect shown to the arts by the nation in possessing their productions, confers a higher value on their labors. Ho\v much more honored does the artist feel, how much more freely does he breathe, when he 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 .' 1 Namely, the four statues which he took from Heius. Cic. in Verrem ii. iv. 2. Yet they stood in a chapel (sacrarium), and were therefore in a certain measure public. The n;une 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 ? 336 CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. Such was the condition of the arts in Greece. When emulation arose among the cities to be distinguished 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. 1 Need we then add any further remarks to explain why the fine arts declined 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 pro- ductions, 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, \\wy 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," says Cicero, 2 " delight the Greeks beyond every thing. From their complaints 3 you may learn, that that is most bitter to them, which to us appears perhaps trivial and easy to be borne. Of all acts of oppression and injustice, which foreigners and allies in these times have been obliged o endure, nothing has 1 Polygn'vtus painted the Poecile for nothing; Zcuxis, in the last part of his life, would receive no pay for his pictures, but gave them away. Plin. xxxv. 3(3. 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 (heir personal condition and circumstances, represents them for the most part as men of fine feelings and good fellowship, who, like the divine Raphael and Corregfjio, in the moments sacred to mental exertion, raised them- selves above human nature, but otherwise enjoyed life without troubling them- solvs much nhmil money. Phidias for all his masterpieces did not receive a third ii-iit a* n:ucli :is Hurgias for hL, di claniations. - Cicero in Yenem. ii iv. 5'.). 3 Of the robberies of Verres. THE ARTS IN CONNECTION WITH THE STATE. 337 been more hard for the Grecians to bear, than this plun- dering of their temples and cities ! " We have thus far endeavored to consider Greece from all the points, in which she made herself glorious 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 warriors and kings. 1 1 See Visconti. Iconographie ancienne. Paris, 1811. 43 338 CHAPTER SIXTEENTH. CHAPTER XVI. CAUSES OF THE FALL OF GREECE. THE melancholy task of explaining the causes which led to the fall of Greece, has been facilitated by the pre- ceding investigations. Most of them will occur to the reader ; we have only to illustrate them somewhat more at large, and arrange them in a manner to admit of being distinctly comprehended at a single view. 1 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 political system. A lasting union was never established between the Gre- cian states ; and a transitory and very imperfect one was effected only in times of danger, as in the Persian wars. But even this imperfect union was productive of im- portant results. The league which was then established, produced the idea of the supremacy 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 partial supremacy alone existed, embracing only 1 See Drumann's carefully written History of the Decline of the Grecian States. Berlin, 1815. To have occasioned such works is the highest pleasure for the author. So too in reference to the thirteenth chapter I may cite, Bekker's Demosthenes as a Statesman and Orator. 2 vols. 1813. The best historical and critical introduction to the study of Demosthenes. CAUSES OF THE FALL OF GREECE. 339 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. 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, hav- ing 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 inde- pendence, which was not voluntarily conceded to them. This led to wars with them ; and hence the dominion of the sea was followed by all the other evils, of which even Isocrates complains. 1 The chief reason of this internal division did not lie merely in vacillating political relations, but more deeply in the difference of tribes. There was a gulf 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 hav- ing contributed to render this division incurable. The ^ tribes were divided geographically. In the mother coun- try, the Dorian had the ascendency in the Peloponnesus, the Ionian in Attica, Euboea, and many of the islands. Their dialects were different ; a few words were suffi- cient to show to which tribe a man belonged. The difference in manners was hardly less considerable, espe- cially with relation to the female sex, which among the Dorians participated in public, life ; while amongst the 1 Isocrat. de Pace, Op. p. 176. 340 CHAPTER SIXTEENTH. lonians it was limited to the women's apartments within the houses. And the common people were very much influenced by the circumstance, that the festivals cele- brated 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 ambi- tious of being their head, its influence prevailed, at least in the mother country. But that influence was often extended to the colonies ; and though the Persian au- thority 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 Leon- tini, 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. 1 This hatred, preserved and inflamed by the ambition, 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 ; 2 without having been terminated by a similar peace. As it was a revolutionary war in 1 Thucyd. iii. 6. 5 It lasted from the year 431 till the year 404, when it was terminated by the takino- of Athens. CAUSES OF THE FALL OF GREECE. 431 the true sense of the expression, it had all the conse- quences attendant on such a war. The spirit of faction was enabled to strike such deep root, that it never more could be eradicated ; and the abuse which Sparta made of her forced supremacy, was fitted to supply it with con- tinual nourishment. Who has described this with more truth or accuracy than Thucydides ? " By this war," says he, 1 " all Hellas was set in motion ; for on all sides dissensions prevailed between the popular party and the nobles. The former desired to invite the Athenians ; the latter the Lacedemonians. The cities were shaken by sedition ; and where this broke out at a less early period, greater excesses were attempted than any which had elsewhere taken place. Even the significations of words were changed. Mad rashness was called disin- terested courage ; prudent delay, timidity. Whoever was violent, was held worthy of confidence ; whoever opposed violence, 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 himself 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. Throughout the whole of Aristophanes, we see the contrast between 1 Thucyd. iii. 62. We have selected only a few remarks from a passage written for all succeeding centuries 342 CHAPTER SIXTEENTH. the better times that were gone by, and the new, in all parts of public and domestic life ; in 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, disputing upon the stage. 1 And who can read the orators without being astonished at the incredible corruption of morals ? This leads us to a kindred topic, the desecration of the popular religion. The careful student of the history of the Grecian nation will observe this increase, as he ap- proaches 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 chapter. It would be useless to attempt to deny, that the specula- tions of the philosophers had a great share in it ; al- though the better part of them were strenuous to prevent such a result. Aristophanes was certainly unjust in at- tributing such designs to Socrates, 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 diffi- cult 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 inquiries, 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 prudence, of which they were guilty in promulgating their positions. 1 The Joyot Sixaiot and adixas in the Clouds. CAUSES OF THE FALL OF GREECE. 343 The care taken by the best of them in this respect, has already been mentioned ; and that the state was not in- different 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 re- stricted to the schools, a multitude of philosophic views were extended, which to a certain degree were adopted by the common people. In Athens, the comedians con- tributed to this end ; for whether with or without design, they extended the doctrines which they ridiculed. The most melancholy proof of the decay of religious feeling, is found in the Phocian war and the manner in which that war was conducted. In the time of Thucyd- ides, Delphi and its oracle were still revered; 1 although the Spartans began even then to doubt its claims to con- fidence. 2 When all the former relations of the states were dissolved by the Peloponnesian war and its conse- quences, those toward the gods were also destroyed ; and the crimes committed against them, brought on their own punishment in a new 7 civil w r ar and the downfall of liberty. The treasures stolen from Delphi, with which the war w T as carried on, suddenly increased the mass of species current in Greece to an unheard of degree ; but increased in an equal decree luxury, and the wants of life. 3 And if any portion of the ancient spirit remained, it was destroyed by the custom of employing mercenary soldiers, a custom, which became every day more com- mon, and gave a deadly chill to valor and patriotism. Thus the evils of which the superior policy of a neigh- bor knew how to take advantage, were the result of de- 1 Thucyd. v. 32. 5 Thucyd. v. 1G. 3 See a leading passage on this topic, in Athen. iv. p. 231. 344 CHAPTER SIXTEENTH. fects in the political constitution ; in that very constitu- tion, but for which the glorious fruits of Grecian liberty, never could have ripened. But amidst all the disorder, and all the losses, not every thing perished. The na- tional spirit, though it could hardly have been expected, still remained, and with it the hope of better 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 every 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 instruc- tions did not die away. 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 even- ing. So certain is it, that a nation is never deserted by destiny, so long as it does not desert itself. 1 See especially Panathen. Op. 235. THE END. UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY ACILITY A 000 222 587 8