Chapter XX (1)

STATE OF SOCIETY AND MANNERS AS EXHIBITED IN GRECIAN LEGEND.

Though the particular persons and events, chronicled in the legendary poems of Greece, are not to be regarded as belonging to the province of real history, those poems are, nevertheless, full of instruction as pictures of life and manners; and the very same circumstances, which divest their composers of all credibility as historians, render them so much the more valuable as unconscious expositors of their own contemporary society. While professedly describing an uncertified past, their combinations are involuntarily borrowed from the surrounding present: for among communities, such as those of the primitive Greeks, without books, without means of extended travel, without acquaintance with foreign languages and habits, the imagination, even of highly gifted men, was naturally enslaved by the circumstances around them to a far greater degree than in the later days of Solôn or Herodotus; insomuch that the characters which they conceived and the scenes which they described would for that reason bear a stronger generic resemblance to the realities of their own time and locality. Nor was the poetry of that age addressed to lettered and critical authors, watchful to detect plagiarism, sated with simple imagery, and requiring something of novelty or peculiarity in every fresh production. To captivate their emotions, it was sufficient to depict, with genius and fervor, the more obvious manifestations of human adventure or suffering, and to idealize that type of society, both private and public, with which the hearers around were familiar. Even in describing the gods, where a great degree of latitude and deviation might have been expected,[81] we see that Homer introduces into Olympus the passions, the caprices, the love of power and patronage, the alternation of dignity and weakness, which animated the bosom of an ordinary Grecian chief; and this tendency, to reproduce in substance the social relations to which he had been accustomed, would operate still more powerfully when he had to describe simply human characters,—the chief and his people, the warrior and his comrades, the husband, wife, father, and son,—or the imperfect rudiments of judicial and administrative proceeding. That his narrative on all these points, even with fictitious characters and events, presents a close approximation to general reality, there can be no reason to doubt.[82] The necessity under which he lay of drawing from a store, then happily unexhausted, of personal experience and observation, is one of the causes of that freshness and vivacity of description for which he stands unrivalled, and which constituted the imperishable charm of the Iliad and Odyssey from the beginning to the end of Grecian literature.

[81] Καὶ τοὺς θεοὺς δὲ διὰ τοῦτο πάντες φασὶ βασιλεύεσθαι, ὅτι
καὶ αὐτοὶ, οἱ μὲν ἔτι καὶ νῦν, οἱ δὲ τὸ ἀρχαῖον, ἐβασιλεύοντο.
Ὥσπερ δὲ καὶ τὰ εἴδη ἑαυτοῖς ἀφομοιοῦσιν οἱ ἄνθρωποι, οὕτω καὶ
τοὺς βίους τῶν θεῶν (Aristot. Politic. i. 1. 7).

[82] In the pictures of the Homeric Heroes, there is no material
difference of character recognized between one race of Greeks
and another,—or even between Greeks and Trojans. See Helbig, Die
Sittlichen Zustände des Griechischen Heldenalters, part ii. p. 53.

While, therefore, we renounce the idea of chronologizing or historicizing the events of Grecian legend, we may turn them to profit as valuable memorials of that state of society, feeling, and intelligence, which must be to us the starting-point of the history of the people. Of course, the legendary age, like all those which succeeded it, had its antecedent causes and determining conditions; but of these we know nothing, and we are compelled to assume it as a primary fact, for the purpose of following out its subsequent changes. To conceive absolute beginning or origin (as Niebuhr has justly remarked) is beyond the reach of our faculties: we can neither apprehend nor verify anything beyond progress, or development, or decay,[83]—change from one set of circumstances to another, operated by some definite combination of physical or moral laws. In the case of the Greeks, the legendary age, as the earliest in any way known to us, must be taken as the initial state from which this series of changes commences. We must depict its prominent characteristics as well as we can, and show,—partly how it serves to prepare, partly how it forms a contrast to set off,—the subsequent ages of Solôn, of Periklês, and of Demosthenês.

[83] Niebuhr, Römische Geschichte, vol. i. p. 55, 2d edit.
“Erkennt man aber, dass aller Ursprung jenseits unserer nur
Entwickelung und Fortgang fassenden Begriffe liegt; und
beschränkt sich von Stufe auf Stufe im Umfang der Geschichte
zurückzugehen, so wird man Völker eines Stammes (das heisst,
durch eigenthümliche Art und Sprache identisch) vielfach eben
an sich entgegenliegenden Küstenländern antreffen ... ohne dass
irgend etwas die Voraussetzung erheischte, eine von diesen
getrennten Landschaften sei die ursprüngliche Heimath gewesen
von wo ein Theil nach der andern gewandert wäre.... Dies ist der
Geographie der Thiergeschlechter und der Vegetation analog: deren
grosse Bezirke durch Gebürge geschieden werden, and beschränkte
Meere einschliessen.”

“When we once recognize, however, that _all absolute beginning
lies out of the reach of our mental conceptions, which comprehend
nothing beyond development and progress_, and when we attempt
nothing more than to go back from the later to the earlier stages
in the compass of history, we shall often find, on opposite
coasts of the same sea, people of one stock (that is, of the
same peculiar customs and language,) without being warranted in
supposing that either of these separate coasts was the primitive
home from whence emigrants crossed over to the other. This is
analogous to the geography of animals and plants, whose wide
districts are severed by mountains and inclose internal seas.”

1. The political condition, which Grecian legend everywhere presents to us, is in its principal features strikingly different from that which had become universally prevalent among the Greeks in the time of the Peloponnêsian war. Historical oligarchy, as well as democracy, agreed in requiring a certain established system of government, comprising the three elements of specialized functions, temporary functionaries, and ultimate responsibility (under some forms or other) to the mass of qualified citizens—either a Senate or an Ecclesia, or both. There were, of course, many and capital distinctions between one government and another, in respect to the qualification of the citizen, the attributes and efficiency of the general assembly, the admissibility to power, etc.; and men might often be dissatisfied with the way in which these questions were determined in their own city. But in the mind of every man, some determining rule or system—something like what in modern times is called a _constitution_—was indispensable to any government entitled to be called legitimate, or capable of creating in the mind of a Greek a feeling of moral obligation to obey it. The functionaries who exercised authority under it might be more or less competent or popular; but his personal feelings towards them were commonly lost in his attachment or aversion to the general system. If any energetic man could by audacity or craft break down the constitution, and render himself permanent ruler according to his own will and pleasure,—even though he might govern well, he could never inspire the people with any sentiment of duty towards him. His sceptre was illegitimate from the beginning, and even the taking of his life, far from being interdicted by that moral feeling which condemned the shedding of blood in other cases, was considered meritorious. Nor could he be mentioned in the language except by a name[84] (τύραννος, _despot_,) which branded him as an object of mingled fear and dislike.

[84] The Greek name τύραννος cannot be properly rendered
_tyrant_; for many of the τύραννοι by no means deserved to be so
called, nor is it consistent with the use of language to speak
of a mild and well-intentioned tyrant. The word _despot_ is the
nearest approach which we can make to it, since it is understood
to imply that a man has got more power than he ought to have,
while it does not exclude a beneficent use of such power by some
individuals. It is, however, very inadequate to express the full
strength of Grecian feeling which the original word called forth.

If we carry our eyes back from historical to legendary Greece, we find a picture the reverse of what has been here sketched. We discern a government in which there is little or no scheme or system,—still less any idea of responsibility to the governed,—but in which the mainspring of obedience on the part of the people consists in their personal feeling and reverence towards the chief. We remark, first and foremost, the king: next, a limited number of subordinate kings or chiefs; afterwards, the mass of armed freemen, husbandmen, artisans, freebooters, etc.; lowest of all, the free laborers for hire, and the bought slaves. The king is not distinguished by any broad or impassable boundary from the other chiefs, to each of whom the title _basileus_ is applicable as well as to himself: his supremacy has been inherited from his ancestors, and passes by descent, as a general rule, to his eldest son, having been conferred upon the family as a privilege by the favor of Zeus.[85] In war, he is the leader, foremost in personal prowess, and directing all military movements; in peace, he is the general protector of the injured and oppressed; he farther offers up those public prayers and sacrifices which are intended to obtain for the whole people the favor of the gods. An ample domain is assigned to him as an appurtenance of his lofty position, while the produce of his fields and his cattle is consecrated in part to an abundant, though rude hospitality. Moreover, he receives frequent presents, to avert his enmity, to conciliate his favor,[86] or to buy off his exactions; and when plunder is taken from the enemy, a large previous share, comprising probably the most alluring female captive, is reserved for him, apart from the general distribution.[87]

[85] The Phæakian king Alkinous (Odyss. vii. 55-65): there are
twelve other Phæakian Βασιλῆες, he is himself the thirteenth
(viii. 391).

The chief men in the Iliad, and the suitors of Penelopê in the
Odyssey, are called usually and indiscriminately both Βασιλῆες
and Ἄνακτες; the latter word, however, designates them as men of
property and masters of slaves, (analogous to the subsequent word
δεσπότης, which word does not occur in Homer, though δέσποινα
is found in the Odyssey,) while the former word marks them as
persons of conspicuous station in the tribe (see Odyss. i.
393-401; xiv. 63). A chief could only be Βασιλεὺς of freemen; but
he might be Ἄναξ either of freemen or of slaves.

Agamemnôn and Menelaus belong to the _most kingly_ race (γένος
βασιλεύτερον: compare Tyrtæus, Fragm. ix. v. 8, p. 9, ed.
Schneidewin) of the Pelopids, to whom the sceptre originally
made for Zeus has been given by Hermês (Iliad, ii. 101; ix.
160; x. 239); compare Odyss. xv. 539. The race of Dardanus are
the favorite offspring of Zeus, βασιλεύτατον among the Trojans
(Iliad, xx. 304). These races are the parallels of the kingly
_prosapiæ_ called Amali, Asdingi, Gungingi, and Lithingi, among
the Goths, Vandals, and Lombards (Jornandes, De Rebus Geticis, c.
14-22; Paul Warnefrid, Gest. Langob. c. 14-21); and the ἀρχικὸν
γένος among the Chaonian Epirots (Thucyd. ii. 80).

[86] Odyss. i. 392; xi. 184; xiii. 14; xix. 109.—

Οὐ μὲν γάρ τι κακὸν βασιλεύεμεν· αἶψά τέ οἱ δῶ
Ἄφνειον πέλεται, καὶ τιμηέστερος αὐτός.

Iliad, ix. 154-297 (when Agamemnôn is promising seven townships
to Achilles, as a means of appeasing his wrath):—

Ἐν δ᾽ ἄνδρες ναίουσι πολυῤῥῆνες, πολυβοῦται,
Οἵ κέ σε δωτίνῃσι θεὸν ὣς, τιμήσουσι,
Καί σοι ὑπὸ σκήπτρῳ λιπαρὰς τελέουσι θέμιστας.

See Iliad, xii. 312; and the reproaches of Thersitês (ii.
226)—βασιλῆας δωροφάγους (Hesiod, Opp. Di. 38-264).

The Roman kings had a large τέμενος assigned to them,—“agri,
arva, et arbusta et pascui læti atque uberes” (Cicero, De Republ.
v. 2): the German kings received presents: “Mos est civitatibus
(observes Tacitus, respecting the Germans whom he describes, M.
G. 15) ultro ac viritim conferre principibus, vel armentorum vel
frugum, quod pro honore acceptum etiam necessitatibus subvenit.”

The revenue of the Persian kings before Darius consisted only
of what were called δῶρα, or presents (Herod. iii. 89): Darius
first introduced both the name of tribute and the determinate
assessment. King Polydektês, in Seriphos, invites his friends
to a festival, the condition of which is that each guest shall
contribute to an ἔρανος for his benefit (Pherekydês, Fragm. 26,
ed. Didot); a case to which the Thracian banquet prepared by
Seuthês affords an exact parallel (Xenophôn, Anab. vii. 3, 16-32:
compare Thucyd. ii. 97, and Welcker, Æschyl. Trilogie, p. 381).
Such Aids, or Benevolences, even if originally voluntary, became
in the end compulsory. In the European monarchies of the Middle
Ages, what were called free gifts were more ancient than public
taxes: “The feudal Aids (observes Mr. Hallam) are the beginning
of taxation, of which they for a long time answered the purpose.”
(Middle Ages, ch. ii. part i. p. 189.) So about the Aides in the
old French Monarchy, “La Cour des Aides avoit été instituée,
et sa jurisdiction s’étoit formée, lorsque le domaine des Rois
suffisoit à toutes les dépenses de l’Etat, les droits d’Aides
étoient alors des supplémens peu considérables et toujours
temporaires. Depuis, le domaine des Rois avoit été anéanti: les
Aides, au contraire, étoient devenues permanentes et formoient
presque la totalité des ressources du trésor.” (Histoire de la
Fronde, par M. de St. Aulaire, ch. iii. p. 124.)

[87] Ἐπὶ ῥητοῖς γέρασι πατρικαὶ βασιλεῖαι, is the description
which Thucydidês gives of these heroic governments (i. 13).

The language of Aristotle (Polit. iii. 10, 1) is much the same: Ἡ
βασιλεία—ἡ περὶ τοὺς ἡρωικοὺς χρόνους—αὐτὴ δ᾽ ἦν ἑκόντων μὲν, ἐπί
τισι δ᾽ ὡρισμένοις· στρατηγὸς δ᾽ ἦν καὶ δικαστὴς ὁ βασιλεὺς, καὶ
τῶν πρὸς τοὺς θεοὺς κύριος.

It can hardly be said correctly, however, that the king’s
authority was _defined_: nothing can well be more indefinite.

Agamemnôn enjoyed or assumed the power of putting to death a
disobedient soldier (Aristot. Polit. iii. 9, 2). The words which
Aristotle read in the speech of Agamemnôn in the Iliad—Πὰρ γὰρ
ἐμοὶ θάνατος—are not in our present copies: the Alexandrine
critics effaced many traces of the old manners.

Such is the position of the king, in the heroic times of Greece,—the only person (if we except the heralds and priests, each both special and subordinate,) who is then presented to us as clothed with any individual authority,—the person by whom all the executive functions, then few in number, which the society requires, are either performed or directed. His personal ascendency—derived from divine countenance, bestowed both upon himself individually and upon his race, and probably from accredited divine descent—is the salient feature in the picture. The people hearken to his voice, embrace his propositions, and obey his orders: not merely resistance, but even criticism upon his acts, is generally exhibited in an odious point of view, and is, indeed, never heard of except from some one or more of the subordinate princes. To keep alive and justify such feelings in the public mind, however, the king must himself possess various accomplishments, bodily and mental, and that too in a superior degree.[88] He must be brave in the field, wise in the council, and eloquent in the agora; he must be endued with bodily strength and activity above other men, and must be an adept, not only in the use of his arms, but also in those athletic exercises which the crowd delight to witness. Even the more homely varieties of manual acquirements are an addition to his character,—such as the craft of the carpenter or shipwright, the straight furrowing of the ploughman, or the indefatigable persistence of the mower without repose or refreshment throughout the longest day.[89] The conditions of voluntary obedience, during the Grecian heroic times, are family descent with personal force and superiority mental as well as bodily, in the chief, coupled with the favor of the gods: an old chief, such as Pêleus and Laërtes, cannot retain his position.[90] But, on the other hand, where these elements of force are present, a good deal of violence, caprice, and rapacity is tolerated: the ethical judgment is not exact in scrutinizing the conduct of individuals so preëminently endowed. As in the case of the gods, the general epithets of _good_, _just_, etc., are applied to them as euphemisms arising from submission and fear, being not only not suggested, but often pointedly belied, by their particular acts. These words signify[91] the man of birth, wealth, influence, and daring, whose arm is strong to destroy or to protect, whatever may be the turn of his moral sentiments; while the opposite epithet, _bad_, designates the poor, lowly, and weak; from whose dispositions, be they ever so virtuous, society has little either to hope or to fear.

[88] Striking phrases on this head are put into the mouth of
Sarpêdôn (Iliad, xii. 310-322).

Kings are named and commissioned by Zeus,—Ἐκ δὲ Διὸς βασιλῆες
(Hesiod, Theogon. 96; Callimach. Hymn. ad Jov. 79): κρατέρω
θεράποντε Διὸς is a sort of paraphrase for the kingly dignity in
the case of Pelias and Nêleus (Odyss. xi. 255; compare Iliad, ii.
204).

[89] Odysseus builds his own bed and bedchamber, and his own raft
(Odyss. xxiii. 188; v. 246-255): he boasts of being an excellent
mower and ploughman (xviii. 365-375): for his astonishing
proficiency in the athletic contests, see viii. 180-230. Paris
took a share in building his own house (Iliad, vi. 314).

[90] Odyss. xi. 496; xxiv. 136-248.

[91] See this prominent meaning of the words ἀγαθὸς, ἐσθλὸς,
κακὸς, etc. copiously illustrated in Welcker’s excellent
Prolegomena to Theognis, sect. 9-16. Camerarius, in his notes on
that poet (v. 19,), had already conceived clearly the sense in
which these words are used. Iliad, xv. 323. Οἶα τε τοῖς ἀγαθοῖσι
παραδρώωσι χέρηες. Compare Hesiod, Opp. Di. 216, and the line in
Athenæus, v. p. 178, Αὐτόματοι δ᾽ ἀγαθοὶ δειλῶν ἐπὶ δαῖτας ἴασιν.

“_Moralis_ illarum vocum vis, et _civilis_—quarum hæc a
lexicographis et commentatoribus plurimis fere neglecta est—probe
discernendæ erunt. Quod quo facilius fieret, nescio an ubi
posterior intellectus valet, majusculâ scribendum fuisset Ἀγαθοὶ
et Κακοὶ.”

If this advice of Welcker could have been followed, much
misconception would have been obviated. The reference of these
words to power and not to worth, is their primitive import in
the Greek language, descending from the Iliad downward, and
determining the habitual designation of parties during the
period of active political dispute. The ethical meaning of the
word hardly appears until the discussions raised by Socrates,
and prosecuted by his disciples; but the primitive import still
continued to maintain concurrent footing.

I shall have occasion to touch more largely on this subject, when
I come to expound the Grecian political parties. At present, it
is enough to remark that the epithets of _good men_, _best men_,
habitually applied afterwards to the aristocratical parties,
descend from the rudest period of Grecian society.

Aristotle, in his general theory of government,[92] lays down the position, that the earliest sources of obedience and authority among mankind are personal, exhibiting themselves most perfectly in the type of paternal supremacy; and that therefore the kingly government, as most conformable to this stage of social sentiment, became probably the first established everywhere. And in fact it still continued in his time to be generally prevalent among the non-Hellenic nations, immediately around; though the Phœnician cities and Carthage, the most civilized of all non-Hellenic states, were republics. Nevertheless, so completely were the feelings about kingship reversed among his contemporary Greeks, that he finds it difficult to enter into the voluntary obedience paid by his ancestors to their early heroic chiefs. He cannot explain to his own satisfaction how any one man should have been so much superior to the companions around him as to maintain such immense personal ascendency: he suspects that in such small communities great merit was very rare, so that the chief had few competitors.[93] Such remarks illustrate strongly the revolution which the Greek mind had undergone during the preceding centuries, in regard to the internal grounds of political submission. But the connecting link, between the Homeric and the republican schemes of government, is to be found in two adjuncts of the Homeric royalty, which are now to be mentioned,—the boulê, or council of chiefs, and the agora, or general assembly of freemen.

[92] Aristot. Polit. i. 1, 7.

[93] Καὶ διὰ τοῦτ᾽ ἴσως ἐβασιλεύοντο πρότερον, ὅτι σπάνιον ἦν
εὑρεῖν ἄνδρας διαφέροντας κατ᾽ ἀρετὴν, ἄλλως τε καὶ τότε μικρὰς
οἰκοῦντας πόλεις (Polit. iii. 10, 7); also the same treatise, v.
8, 5, and v. 8, 22. Οὐ γίνονται δ᾽ ἔτι βασιλεῖαι νῦν, etc.

Aristotle handles monarchy far less copiously than either
oligarchy or democracy: the tenth and eleventh chapters of his
third book, in which he discusses it, are nevertheless very
interesting to peruse.

In the conception of Plato, also, the kingly government, if it is
to work well, implies a breed superior to humanity to hold the
sceptre (Legg. iv. 6. p. 713).

The Athenian dramatic poets (especially Euripidês) often put into
the mouths of their heroic characters popular sentiments adapted
to the democratical atmosphere of Athens—very different from what
we find in Homer.

These two meetings, more or less frequently convoked, and interwoven with the earliest habits of the primitive Grecian communities, are exhibited in the monuments of the legendary age as opportunities for advising the king, and media for promulgating his intentions to the people, rather than as restraints upon his authority. Unquestionably, they must have conduced in practice to the latter result as well as to the former; but this is not the light in which the Homeric poems describe them. The chiefs, kings, princes, or gerontes—for the same word in Greek designates both an old man and a man of conspicuous rank and position—compose the council,[94] in which, according to the representations in the Iliad, the resolutions of Agamemnôn on the one side, and of Hectôr on the other, appear uniformly to prevail. The harshness and even contempt with which Hectôr treats respectful opposition from his ancient companion Polydamas,—the desponding tone and conscious inferiority of the latter, and the unanimous assent which the former obtains, even when quite in the wrong—all this is clearly set forth in the poem:[95] while in the Grecian camp we see Nestôr tendering his advice in the most submissive and delicate manner to Agamemnôn, to be adopted or rejected, as “the king of men” might determine.[96] The council is a purely consultative body, assembled, not with any power of peremptorily arresting mischievous resolves of the king, but solely for his information and guidance. He himself is the presiding (boulephŏrus, or) member[97] of council; the rest, collectively as well as individually, are his subordinates.

[94] Βουλὴν δὲ πρῶτον μεγαθύμων ἷζε γερόντων (Iliad, ii. 53):
compare x. 195-415. Ἴλου, παλαιοῦ ~δημογέροντος~ (xi. 371).

[95] Iliad, xviii. 313.—

Ἕκτορι μὲν γὰρ ἐπῄνησαν κακὰ μητιόωντι,
Πουλυδάμαντι δ᾽ ἄρ᾽ οὔτις, ὃς ἐσθλὴν φράζετο βουλήν.

Also, xii. 213, where Polydamas says to Hectôr,—

... ἐπεὶ οὐδὲ μὲν οὐδὲ ἔοικε
Δῆμον ἐόντα παρὲξ ἀγορεύεμεν, οὔτ᾽ ἐνὶ βουλῇ,
Οὔτε ποτ᾽ ἐν πολέμῳ, σὸν δὲ κράτος αἰὲν ἀέξειν.

[96] Iliad, ix. 95-101.

[97] Iliad, vii. 126, Πηλεὺς—Ἐσθλὸς Μυρμιδόνων βουληφόρος ἠδ᾽
ἀγορήτης.

We proceed from the council to the agora: according to what seems the received custom, the king, after having talked over his intentions with the former, proceeds to announce them to the people. The heralds make the crowd sit down in order,[98] and enforce silence: any one of the chiefs or councillors—but as it seems, no one else[99]—is allowed to address them: the king first promulgates his intentions, which are then open to be commented upon by others. But in the Homeric agora, no division of affirmative or negative voices ever takes place, nor is any formal resolution ever adopted. The nullity of positive function strikes us even more in the agora than in the council. It is an assembly for talk, communication, and discussion, to a certain extent, by the chiefs, in presence of the people as listeners and sympathizers,—often for eloquence, and sometimes for quarrel,—but here its ostensible purposes end.

[98] Considerable stress seems to be laid on the necessity that
the people in the agora should _sit_ down (Iliad, ii. 96): a
_standing_ agora is a symptom of tumult or terror (Iliad, xviii,
246); an evening agora, to which men come elevated by wine, is
also the forerunner of mischief (Odyss. iii. 138).

Such evidences of regular formalities observed in the agora are
not without interest.

[99] Iliad, ii. 100.—

... εἴποτ᾽ ἀϋτῆς
Σχοίατ᾽, ἀκούσειαν δὲ διοτρεφέων βασιλήων.

Nitzsch (ad Odyss. ii. 14) controverts this restriction of
individual manifestation to the chiefs: the view of O. Müller
(Hist. Dorians, b. iii. c. 3) appears to me more correct: such
was also the opinion of Aristotle—φησὶ τοίνυν Ἀριστοτέλης ὅτι ὁ
μὲν δῆμος μόνου τοῦ ἀκοῦσαι κύριος ἦν, οἱ δὲ ἡγεμόνες καὶ τοῦ
πρᾶξαι (Schol. Iliad, ix. 17): compare the same statement in his
Nikomachean Ethics, iii. 5.

The agora in Ithaka, in the second book of the Odyssey, is convened by the youthful Telemachus, at the instigation of Athênê, not for the purpose of submitting any proposition, but in order to give formal and public notice to the suitors to desist from their iniquitous intrusion and pillage of his substance, and to absolve himself farther, before gods and men, from all obligations towards them, if they refuse to comply. For the slaughter of the suitors, in all the security of the festive hall and banquet (which forms the catastrophe of the Odyssey), was a proceeding involving much that was shocking to Grecian feeling,[100] and therefore required to be preceded by such ample formalities, as would leave both the delinquents themselves without the shadow of excuse, and their surviving relatives without any claim to the customary satisfaction. For this special purpose, Telemachus directs the heralds to summon an agora: but what seems most of all surprising is, that none had ever been summoned or held since the departure of Odysseus himself,—an interval of twenty years. “No agora or session has taken place amongst us (says the gray-headed Ægyptius, who opens the proceedings) since Odysseus went on shipboard: and now, who is he that has called us together? what man, young or old, has felt such a strong necessity? Has he received intelligence from our absent warriors, or has he other public news to communicate? He is our good friend for doing this: whatever his projects may be, I pray Zeus to grant him success.”[101] Telemachus, answering the appeal forthwith, proceeds to tell the assembled Ithakans that he has no public news to communicate, but that he has convoked them upon his own private necessities. Next, he sets forth, pathetically, the wickedness of the suitors, calls upon them personally to desist, and upon the people to restrain them, and concludes by solemnly warning them, that, being henceforward free from all obligation towards them, he will invoke the avenging aid of Zeus, so “that they may be slain in the interior of his own house, without bringing upon him any subsequent penalty.”[102]

[100] See Iliad, ix. 635; Odyss. xi. 419.

[101] Odyss. ii. 25-40.

[102] Odyss. ii. 43, 77, 145.—

Νήποινοί κεν ἔπειτα ~δόμων ἔντοσθεν~ ὄλοισθε.

We are not of course to construe the Homeric description as anything more than an _idéal_, approximating to actual reality. But, allowing all that can be required for such a limitation, it exhibits the agora more as a special medium of publicity and intercommunication,[103] from the king to the body of the people, than as including any idea of responsibility on the part of the former or restraining force on the part of the latter, however such consequences may indirectly grow out of it. The primitive Grecian government is essentially monarchical, reposing on personal feeling and divine right: the memorable dictum in the Iliad is borne out by all that we hear of the actual practice; “The ruler of many is not a good thing: let us have one ruler only,—one king,—him to whom Zeus has given the sceptre and the tutelary sanctions.”[104]

[103] A similar character is given of the public assemblies of
the early Franks and Lombards (Pfeffel, Histoire du Droit Public
en Allemagne, t. i. p. 18; Sismondi, Histoire des Républiques
Italiennes, t. i. c. 2, p. 71).

Dionysius of Halikarnassus (ii. 12) pays rather too high a
compliment to the moderation of the Grecian heroic kings.

The kings at Rome, like the Grecian heroic kings, began with an
ἀρχὴ ἀνυπεύθυνος: the words of Pomponius (De Origine Juris, i.
2,) would be perhaps more exactly applicable to the latter than
to the former: “Initio civitatis nostræ Populus sine certâ lege,
sine jure certo, primum agere instituit: omniaque manu a Regibus
gubernabantur.” Tacitus says (Ann. iii. 26), “Nobis Romulus,
ut libitum, imperitaverat: dein Numa religionibus et divino
jure populum devinxit, repertaque quædam a Tullo et Anco: sed
præcipuus Servius Tullius sanctor legum fuit, quis etiam Reges
obtemperarent.” The appointment of a Dictator under the Republic
was a reproduction, for a short and definite interval, of this
old unbounded authority (Cicero, De Repub. ii. 32; Zonaras, Ann.
vii. 13; Dionys. Hal. v. 75).

See Rubino, Untersuchungen über Römische Verfassung und
Geschichte, Cassel, 1839, buch i. abschnitt 2, pp. 112-132; and
Wachsmuth, Hellenische Alterthumskunde, i. sect. 18, pp. 81-91.

[104] Iliad, ii. 204. Agamemnôn promises to make over to Achilles
seven well-peopled cities, with a body of wealthy inhabitants
(Iliad, ix. 153); and Menelaus, if he could have induced Odysseus
to quit Ithaka, and settle near him in Argos, would have
depopulated one of his neighboring towns in order to make room
for him (Odyss. iv. 176).

Manso (Sparta, i. 1, p. 34) and Nitzsch (ad Odyss. iv. 171) are
inclined to exclude these passages as spurious,—a proceeding, in
my opinion, inadmissible, without more direct grounds than they
are able to produce.

The second book of the Iliad, full as it is of beauty and vivacity, not only confirms our idea of the passive, recipient, and listening character of the agora, but even presents a repulsive picture of the degradation of the mass of the people before the chiefs. Agamemnôn convokes the agora for the purpose of immediately arming the Grecian host, under a full impression that the gods have at last determined forthwith to crown his arms with complete victory. Such impression has been created by a special visit of Oneirus (the Dream-god), sent by Zeus during his sleep,—being, indeed, an intentional fraud on the part of Zeus, though Agamemnôn does not suspect its deceitful character. At this precise moment, when he may be conceived to be more than usually anxious to get his army into the field and snatch the prize, an unaccountable fancy seizes him, that, instead of inviting the troops to do what he really wishes, and encouraging their spirits for this one last effort, he will adopt a course directly contrary: he will try their courage by professing to believe that the siege had become desperate, and that there was no choice except to go on shipboard and flee. Announcing to Nestôr and Odysseus, in preliminary council, his intention to hold this strange language, he at the same time tells them that he relies upon them to oppose it and counterwork its effect upon the multitude.[105] The agora is presently assembled, and the king of men pours forth a speech full of dismay and despair, concluding by a distinct exhortation to all present to go aboard and return home at once. Immediately the whole army, chiefs as well as people, break up and proceed to execute his orders: every one rushes off to get his ship afloat, except Odysseus, who looks on in mournful silence and astonishment. The army would have been quickly on its voyage home, had not the goddesses Hêrê and Athênê stimulated Odysseus to an instantaneous interference. He hastens among the dispersing crowd and diverts them from their purpose of retreat: to the chiefs he addresses flattering words, trying to shame them by gentle expostulation: but the people he visits with harsh reprimand and blows from his sceptre,[106] thus driving them back to their seats in the agora.

[105] Iliad, ii. 74. Πρῶτα δ᾽ ἐγὼν ἔπεσιν πειρήσομαι, etc.

[106] Iliad, ii. 188-196.—

Ὅντινα μὲν βασιλῆα καὶ ἔξοχον ἄνδρα κιχείη,
Τόνδ᾽ ἀγανοῖς ἐπέεσσιν ἐρητύσασκε παραστάς....
Ὅν δ᾽ αὖ δήμου τ᾽ ἄνδρα ἴδοι, βοόωντά τ᾽ ἐφεύροι,
Τὸν σκήπτρῳ ἐλάσασκεν, ὁμοκλήσασκέ τε μύθῳ, etc.

Amidst the dissatisfied crowd thus unwillingly brought back, the voice of Thersitês is heard the longest and the loudest,—a man ugly, deformed, and unwarlike, but fluent in speech, and especially severe and unsparing in his censure of the chiefs, Agamemnôn, Achilles, and Odysseus. Upon this occasion, he addresses to the people a speech denouncing Agamemnôn for selfish and greedy exaction generally, but particularly for his recent ill-treatment of Achilles,—and he endeavors, moreover, to induce them to persist in their scheme of departure. In reply, Odysseus not only rebukes Thersitês sharply for his impudence in abusing the commander-in-chief, but threatens that, if ever such behavior is repeated, he will strip him naked, and thrash him out of the assembly with disgraceful blows; as an earnest of which, he administers to him at once a smart stroke with the studded sceptre, imprinting its painful mark in a bloody weal across his back. Thersitês, terrified and subdued, sits down weeping; while the surrounding crowd deride him, and express the warmest approbation of Odysseus for having thus by force put the reviler to silence.[107]

[107] Iliad, ii. 213-277.

Both Odysseus and Nestôr then address the agora, sympathizing with Agamemnôn for the shame which the retreat of the Greeks is about to inflict upon him, and urging emphatically upon every one present the obligation of persevering until the siege shall be successfully consummated. Neither of them animadverts at all upon Agamemnôn, either for his conduct towards Achilles, or for his childish freak of trying the temper of the army.[108]

[108] Iliad, ii. 284-340. Nor does Thersitês, in his criminatory
speech against Agamemnôn, touch in any way upon this anomalous
point, though, in the circumstances under which his speech is
made, it would seem to be of all others the most natural,—and the
sharpest thrust against the commander-in-chief.

There cannot be a clearer indication than this description—so graphic in the original poem—of the true character of the Homeric agora. The multitude who compose it are listening and acquiescent, not often hesitating, and never refractory[109] to the chief. The fate which awaits a presumptuous critic, even where his virulent reproaches are substantially well-founded, is plainly set forth in the treatment of Thersitês; while the unpopularity of such a character is attested even more by the excessive pains which Homer takes to heap upon him repulsive personal deformities, than by the chastisement of Odysseus;—he is lame, bald, crook-backed, of misshapen head, and squinting vision.

[109] See this illustrated in the language of Theseus, Eurip.
Supplic. 349-352.

Δόξαι δὲ χρήζω καὶ πόλει πάσῃ τάδε·
Δόξει δ᾽, ἐμοῦ θέλοντος· ἀλλὰ τοῦ λόγου
Προσδοὺς, ἔχοιμ᾽ ἂν δῆμον εὐμενέστερον.

But we cease to wonder at the submissive character of the agora, when we read the proceedings of Odysseus towards the people themselves;—his fine words and flattery addressed to the chiefs, and his contemptuous reproof and manual violence towards the common men, at a moment when both were doing exactly the same thing,—fulfilling the express bidding of Agamemnôn, upon whom Odysseus does not offer a single comment. This scene, which excited a sentiment of strong displeasure among the democrats of historical Athens,[110] affords a proof that the feeling of personal dignity, of which philosophic observers in Greece—Herodotus, Xenophôn, Hippocratês, and Aristotle—boasted, as distinguishing the free Greek citizen from the slavish Asiatic, was yet undeveloped in the time of Homer.[111] The ancient epic is commonly so filled with the personal adventures of the chiefs, and the people are so constantly depicted as simple appendages attached to them, that we rarely obtain a glimpse of the treatment of the one apart from the other, such as this memorable Homeric agora affords.

[110] Xenophôn, Memorab. i. 2, 9.

[111] Aristot. Polit. vii. 6, 1; Hippocrat. De Aëre, Loc. et Aq.
v. 85-86; Herodot. vii. 135.

There remains one other point of view in which we are to regard the agora of primitive Greece,—as the scene in which justice was administered. The king is spoken of as constituted by Zeus the great judge of society: he has received from Zeus the sceptre, and along with it the powers of command and sanction: the people obey these commands and enforce these sanctions, under him, enriching him at the same time with lucrative presents and payments.[112] Sometimes the king separately, sometimes the kings or chiefs or gerontes in the plural number, are named as deciding disputes and awarding satisfaction to complainants; always, however, in public, in the midst of the assembled agora.[113] In one of the compartments of the shield of Achilles, the details of a judicial scene are described. While the agora is full of an eager and excited crowd, two men are disputing about the fine of satisfaction for the death of a murdered man,—one averring, the other denying, that the fine had already been paid, and both demanding an inquest. The gerontes are ranged on stone seats,[114] in the holy circle, with two talents of gold lying before them, to be awarded to such of the litigants as shall make out his case to their satisfaction. The heralds with their sceptres, repressing the warm sympathies of the crowd in favor of one or other of the parties, secure an alternate hearing to both.[115] This interesting picture completely harmonizes with the brief allusion of Hesiod to the judicial trial—doubtless a real trial—between himself and his brother Persês. The two brothers disputed about their paternal inheritance, and the cause was carried to be tried by the chiefs in agora; but Persês bribed them, and obtained an unjust verdict for the whole.[116] So at least Hesiod affirms, in the bitterness of his heart; earnestly exhorting his brother not to waste a precious time, required for necessary labors, in the unprofitable occupation of witnessing and abetting litigants in the agora,—for which (he adds) no man has proper leisure, unless his subsistence for the year beforehand be safely treasured up in his garners.[117] He repeats, more than once, his complaints of the crooked and corrupt judgments of which the kings were habitually guilty; dwelling upon abuse of justice as the crying evil of his day, and predicting as well as invoking the vengeance of Zeus to repress it. And Homer ascribes the tremendous violence of the autumnal storms to the wrath of Zeus against those judges who disgrace the agora with their wicked verdicts.[118]

[112] The σκῆπτρον, θέμιστες, or θέμις, and ἀγορὴ, go together,
under the presiding superintendence of the gods. The goddess
Themis both convokes and dismisses the agora (see Iliad, xi. 806;
Odyss. ii. 67; Iliad, xx. 4).

The θέμιστες, commandments and sanctions, belong properly to Zeus
(Odyss. xvi. 403); from him they are given in charge to earthly
kings along with the sceptre (Iliad, i. 238; ii. 206).

The commentators on Homer recognized θέμις, rather too strictly,
as ἀγορᾶς καὶ βουλῆς λέξιν (see Eustath. ad Odyss. xvi. 403).

The presents and the λιπαραὶ θέμιστες (Iliad, ix. 156).

[113] Hesiod, Theogon. 85; the single person judging seems to be
mentioned (Odyss. xii. 439).

It deserves to be noticed that, in Sparta, the senate decided
accusations of homicide (Aristot. Polit. iii. 1, 7): in
historical Athens, the senate of Areiopagus originally did the
same, and retained, even when its powers were much abridged, the
trial of accusations of intentional homicide and wounding.

Respecting the judicial functions of the early Roman kings,
Dionys. Hal. A. R. x. 1. Τὸ μὲν ἀρχαῖον οἱ βασιλεῖς ἐφ᾽ αὐτῶν
ἔταττον τοῖς δεομένοις τὰς δίκας, καὶ τὸ δικαιωθὲν ὑπ᾽ ἐκείνων,
τοῦτο νόμος ἦν (compare iv. 25; and Cicero, Republic. v. 2;
Rubino, Untersuchungen, i. 2, p. 122).

[114] Iliad, xviii. 504.—

Οἱ δὲ γέροντες
Εἵατ᾽ ἐπὶ ξεστοῖσι λίθοις, ἱερῷ ἐνὶ κύκλῳ.

Several of the old northern Sagas represent the old men,
assembled for the purpose of judging, as sitting on great stones
in a circle, called the Urtheilsring, or Gerichtsring (Leitfaden
der Nördischen Alterthümer, p. 31, Copenhag. 1837).

[115] Homer, Iliad, xviii. 497-510.

[116] Hesiod, Opp. Di. 37.

[117] Hesiod, Opp. Di. 27-33.

[118] Hesiod, Opp. Di. 250-263; Homer, Iliad, xvi. 387.

Though it is certain that, in every state of society, the feelings of men when assembled in multitude will command a certain measure of attention, yet we thus find the agora, in judicial matters still more than in political, serving merely the purpose of publicity. It is the king who is the grand personal mover of Grecian heroic society.[119] He is on earth, the equivalent of Zeus in the agora of the gods: the supreme god of Olympus is in the habit of carrying on his government with frequent publicity, of hearing some dissentient opinions, and of allowing himself occasionally to be wheedled by Aphroditê, or worried into compliance by Hêrê: but his determination is at last conclusive, subject only to the overruling interference of the Mœræ, or Fates.[120] Both the society of gods, and the various societies of men, are, according to the conceptions of Grecian legend, carried on by the personal rule of a legitimate sovereign, who does not derive his title from the special appointment of his subjects, though he governs with their full consent. In fact, Grecian legend presents to us hardly anything else, except these great individual personalities. The race, or nation, is as it were absorbed into the prince: eponymous persons, especially, are not merely princes, but fathers and representative unities, each the equivalent of that greater or less aggregate to which he gives name.

[119] Tittmann (Darstellung der Griechischen Staatsverfassungen,
book ii. p. 63) gives too lofty an idea, in my judgment, of the
condition and functions of the Homeric agora.

[120] Iliad, i. 520-527; iv. 14-56; especially the agora of the
gods (xx. 16).

But though, in the primitive Grecian government, the king is the legitimate as well as the real sovereign, he is always conceived as acting through the council and agora. Both the one and the other are established and essential media through which his ascendency is brought to bear upon the society: the absence of such assemblies is the test and mark of savage men, as in the case of the Cyclôpes.[121] Accordingly, he must possess qualities fit to act with effect upon these two assemblies: wise reason for the council, unctuous eloquence for the agora.[122] Such is the _idéal_ of the heroic government: a king, not merely full of valor and resource as a soldier, but also sufficiently superior to those around him to insure both the deliberate concurrence of the chiefs, and the hearty adhesion of the masses.[123] That this picture is not, in all individual cases, realized, is unquestionable; but the endowments so often predicated of good kings show it to have been the type present to the mind of the describer.[124] Xenophôn, in his Cyropædia, depicts Cyrus as an improved edition of the Homeric Agamemnôn,—“a good king and a powerful soldier,” thus idealizing the perfection of personal government.

[121] Odyss. ix. 114.—

Τοῖσιν δ᾽ (the Cyclôpes) οὔτ᾽ ἀγοραὶ βουληφόροι, οὔτε θέμιστες.
Ἀλλ᾽ οἵγ᾽ ὑψηλῶν ὀρέων ναίουσι κάρηνα
Ἐν σπέσσι γλαφυροῖσι· θεμιστεύει δὲ ἕκαστος
Παιδῶν ἠδ᾽ ἀλόχων· οὐδ᾽ ἀλλήλων ἀλέγουσι.

These lines illustrate the meaning of θέμις.

[122] See this point set forth in the prolix discourse of
Aristeides, Περὶ Ῥητορικῆς (Or. xlv. vol. ii. p. 99): Ἡσίοδος ...
ταὐτὰ ἀντικρὺς Ὁμήρῳ λέγων ... ὅτι τε ἡ ῥητορικὴ σύνεδρος τῆς
βασιλικῆς, etc.

[123] _Pêleus_, king of the Myrmidons, is called (Iliad, vii.
126) Ἐσθλὸς Μυρμιδόνων βουληφόρος ἠδ᾽ ἀγορητὴς—_Diomedes_,
ἀγορῇ δέ τ᾽ ἀμείνω (iv. 400)—_Nestôr_, λιγὺς Πυλίων
ἀγορητὴς—_Sarpêdôn_, Λυκίων βουληφόρε (v. 633); and _Idomeneus_,
Κρητῶν βουληφόρε (xiii. 219).

Hesiod (Theogon. 80-96) illustrates still more amply the _idéal_
of the king governing by persuasion and inspired by the Muses.

[124] See the striking picture in Thucydidês (ii. 65). Xenophôn,
in the Cyropædia, puts into the mouth of his hero the Homeric
comparison between the good king and the good shepherd, implying
as it does immense superiority of organization, morality, and
intelligence (Cyropæd. viii. p. 450, Hutchinson).

Volney observes, respecting the emirs of the Druses in Syria:
“Everything depends on circumstances: if the governor be a man of
ability, he is absolute;—if weak, he is a cipher. This proceeds
from the want of fixed laws; a want common to all Asia.” (Travels
in Egypt and Syria, vol. ii. p. 66.) Such was pretty much the
condition of the king in primitive Greece.

It is important to point out these fundamental conceptions of government, discernible even before the dawn of Grecian history, and identified with the social life of the people. It shows us that the Greeks, in their subsequent revolutions, and in the political experiments which their countless autonomous communities presented, worked upon preëxisting materials,—developing and exalting elements which had been at first subordinate, and suppressing, or remodelling on a totally new principle, that which had been originally predominant. When we approach historical Greece, we find that (with the exception of Sparta) the primitive hereditary, unresponsible monarch, uniting in himself all the functions of government, has ceased to reign,—while the feeling of legitimacy, which originally induced his people to obey him willingly, has been exchanged for one of aversion towards the character and title generally. The multifarious functions which he once exercised, have been parcelled out among temporary nominees. On the other hand, the council, or senate, and the agora, originally simple media through which the king acted, are elevated into standing and independent sources of authority, controlling and holding in responsibility the various special officers to whom executive duties of one kind or another are confided. The general principle here indicated is common both to the oligarchies and the democracies which grew up in historical Greece: much as these two governments differed from each other, and many as were the varieties even between one oligarchy or democracy and another, they all stood in equal contrast with the principle of the heroic government. Even in Sparta, where the hereditary kingship lasted, it was preserved with lustre and influence exceedingly diminished,[125] and such timely diminution of its power seems to have been one of the essential conditions of its preservation.[126] Though the Spartan kings had the hereditary command of the military forces, yet, even in all foreign expeditions, they habitually acted in obedience to orders from home; while in affairs of the interior, the superior power of the ephors sensibly overshadowed them. So that, unless possessed of more than ordinary force of character, they seem to have exercised their chief influence as presiding members of the senate.

[125] Nevertheless, the question put by Leotychides to the
deposed Spartan king Demaratus,—ὅκοιόν τι εἴη τὸ ἄρχειν μετὰ τὸ
βασιλεύειν (Herodot. vi. 65), and the poignant insult which those
words conveyed, afford one among many other evidences of the
lofty estimate current in Sparta respecting the regal dignity, of
which Aristotle, in the Politica, seems hardly to take sufficient
account.

[126] O. Müller (Hist. Dorians, book iii. i. 3) affirms that the
fundamental features of the royalty were maintained in the Dorian
states, and obliterated only in the Ionian and democratical. In
this point, he has been followed by various other authors (see
Helbig, Die Sittlich. Zustände des Heldenalters, p. 73), but his
position appears to me substantially incorrect, even as regards
Sparta; and strikingly incorrect, in regard to the other Dorian
states.

There is yet another point of view in which it behoves us to take notice of the council and the agora as integral portions of the legendary government of the Grecian communities. We are thus enabled to trace the employment of public speaking, as the standing engine of government and the proximate cause of obedience, to the social infancy of the nation. The power of speech in the direction of public affairs becomes more and more obvious, developed, and irresistible, as we advance towards the culminating period of Grecian history, the century preceding the battle of Chæroneia. That its development was greatest among the most enlightened sections of the Grecian name, and smallest among the more obtuse and stationary, is matter of notorious fact; nor is it less true, that the prevalence of this habit was one of the chief causes of the intellectual eminence of the nation generally. At a time when all the countries around were plunged comparatively in mental torpor, there was no motive sufficiently present and powerful to multiply so wonderfully the productive minds of Greece, except such as arose from the rewards of public speaking. The susceptibility of the multitude to this sort of guidance, their habit of requiring and enjoying the stimulus which it supplied, and the open discussion, combining regular forms with free opposition, of practical matters, political as well as judicial,—are the creative causes which formed such conspicuous adepts in the art of persuasion. Nor was it only professed orators who were thus produced; didactic aptitude was formed in the background, and the speculative tendencies were supplied with interesting phenomena for observation and combination, at a time when the truths of physical science were almost inaccessible. If the primary effect was to quicken the powers of expression, the secondary, but not less certain result, was to develop the habits of scientific thought. Not only the oratory of Demosthenês and Periklês, and the colloquial magic of Socratês, but also the philosophical speculations of Plato, and the systematic politics, rhetoric, and logic of Aristotle, are traceable to the same general tendencies in the minds of the Grecian people: and we find the germ of these expansive forces in the senate and agora of their legendary government. The poets, first epic and then lyric, were the precursors of the orators, in their power of moving the feelings of an assembled crowd; whilst the Homeric poems—the general training-book of educated Greeks—constituted a treasury of direct and animated expression, full of concrete forms, and rare in the use of abstractions, and thence better suited to the workings of oratory. The subsequent critics had no difficulty in selecting from the Iliad and Odyssey, samples of eloquence in all its phases and varieties.

On the whole, then, the society depicted in the old Greek poems is loose and unsettled, presenting very little of legal restraint, and still less of legal protection,—but concentrating such political power as does exist in the hands of a legitimate hereditary king, whose ascendency over the other chiefs is more or less complete according to his personal force and character. Whether that ascendency be greater or less, however, the mass of the people is in either case politically passive and of little account. Though the Grecian freeman of the heroic age is above the degraded level of the Gallic _plebs_, as described by Cæsar,[127] he is far from rivalling the fierce independence and sense of dignity, combined with individual force, which characterize the Germanic tribes before their establishment in the Roman empire. Still less does his condition, or the society in which he moves, correspond to those pleasing dreams of spontaneous rectitude and innocence, in which Tacitus and Seneca indulge with regard to primitive man.[128]

[127] Cæsar, Bell. Gallic. vi. 12.

[128] Seneca, Epist. xc.; Tacitus. Annal. iii. 26. “Vetustissimi
mortalium (says the latter), nullâ adhuc malâ libidine, sine
probro, scelere, eoque sine pœnâ aut coërcitione, agebant: neque
præmiis opus erat, cum honesta suopte ingenio peterentur; et
ubi nihil contra morem cuperent, nihil per metum vetabantur. At
postquam exui æqualitas, et pro modestiâ et pudore ambitio et vis
incedebat, provenêre dominationes, multosque apud populos æternum
mansere,” etc. Compare Strabo, vii. p. 301.

These are the same fancies so eloquently set forth by Rousseau,
in the last century. A far more sagacious criticism pervades the
preface of Thucydidês.

2. The state of moral and social feeling, prevalent in legendary Greece, exhibits a scene in harmony with the rudimentary political fabrics just described. Throughout the long stream of legendary narrative on which the Greeks looked back as their past history, the larger social motives hardly ever come into play: either individual valor and cruelty, or the personal attachments and quarrels of relatives and war-companions, or the feuds of private enemies, are ever before us. There is no sense of obligation then existing, between man and man as such,—and very little between each man and the entire community of which he is a member; such sentiments are neither operative in the real world, nor present to the imaginations of the poets. Personal feelings, either towards the gods, the king, or some near and known individual, fill the whole of a man’s bosom: out of them arise all the motives to beneficence, and all the internal restraints upon violence, antipathy, or rapacity: and special communion, as well as special solemnities, are essential to their existence. The ceremony of an oath, so imposing, so paramount, and so indispensable in those days, illustrates strikingly this principle. And even in the case of the stranger suppliant,—in which an apparently spontaneous sympathy manifests itself,—the succor and kindness shown to him arise mainly from his having gone through the consecrated formalities of supplication, such as that of sitting down in the ashes by the sacred hearth, thus obtaining a sort of privilege of sanctuary.[129] That ceremony exalts him into something more than a mere suffering man,—it places him in express fellowship with the master of the house, under the tutelary sanctions of Zeus Hiketêsios. There is great difference between one form of supplication and another; the suppliant, however, in any form, becomes more or less the object of a particular sympathy.