Chapter LXVII: Sicilian Affairs (1)

AGATHOCLES

While Greece and Macedonia were torn by the disputes of Alexander’s successors, Sicily was a prey to a tyrant who for energy, audacity, and complete absence of moral sense, is worthy to be ranked amongst them. It was the age of adventurers and soldiers of fortune. Agathocles, the son of a working potter, became famous in his youth by his beauty, strength, and courage, and also by his immoral life. He enlisted as a soldier, and men were amazed by his height and the weight of his weapons. He obtained a command through the influence of a powerful citizen who liked him, and whose widow he married shortly after. This marriage brought him riches, but his ambition was not limited by wealth. He wished to gain the approval of the people by his eloquence, as he had obtained the affection of the soldiers by his daring.

Tyranny, the natural result of class antagonism in a city, had reappeared at Syracuse after the death of Timoleon. The tyrant, Sosistratus, was supported by the aristocrats; Agathocles became the advocate of the claims of the people. He had also a personal grievance against Sosistratus, who, after an expedition against the Bruttians, had refused him the prize for courage which he deserved. Being driven from Syracuse, he recruited an army among the exiles, whose number was always very great by reason of the continual revolutions of Sicily and Magna Græcia. He tried in vain to seize Croton, then served with the Tarentines, who, a short time after, drove him away because he wished to direct their government.

[Sidenote: [317-310 B.C.]]

Some time later, a revolution broke out at Syracuse. Sosistratus was exiled with six hundred men of his faction and asked help of the Carthaginians. Agathocles returned, distinguished himself in the war by his courage and skill, and became so popular that the Corinthian Acestorides, general of the republic, suspected him of aspiring to the tyranny and wished to have him murdered. He escaped the danger by changing clothes with a slave and soon after they heard that he was raising troops. Peace was made with the Carthaginians, who brought back Sosistratus and his partisans. Agathocles obtained permission to return also, and swore in the temple of Demeter to respect the constitution.

Soon after, the people, fascinated by his speeches, named him protector of peace, and charged him with the re-establishment of harmony between the factions. According to Justin, who seldom agrees with Diodorus, Agathocles’ usurpation was the result of a treaty with Hamilcar, the Carthaginian general, who supplied him with African soldiers. Whatever may be the truth in regard to this, the first use which he made of his power was to massacre the six hundred senators, their relatives, and friends. The town was given up to the soldiers, who pillaged the houses, carried off the women, and killed without discrimination. Those partisans of the oligarchy who succeeded in escaping the massacre, took refuge at Agrigentum. Then Agathocles called the people together and declared that his only wish had been to restore their freedom and that he now intended retiring to private life. His followers, especially those who had taken part in the pillage, begged him to remain in power. He consented, but on condition that he should govern alone, for the colleagues who might be given him would perhaps attempt to violate the laws, and he would not be responsible except for his own acts. Votes were taken, and as the rich were paralysed by fear, and he had promised the poor to cancel debts and divide lands, he obtained all the votes. But he took neither the crown nor any of the external signs of power: the reality sufficed; he would not even have a bodyguard. Having no further enemies to fear, he allowed himself the luxury of clemency, tactics imitated later by Augustus and recommended by Machiavelli. He then administered the finances, attended to the necessities of the army and the navy, and added to the dominion of Syracuse some of the towns and territory of the interior.

The Syracusan exiles who had taken refuge at Agrigentum stirred up the people to make war on Agathocles before his rule extended over the whole of Sicily. The Agrigentines recognised the danger, and joining with the inhabitants of Gela and Messana sent to Sparta to ask for a general, for they feared to entrust the command to one of their own citizens who might make use of it to usurp the tyranny. Acrotatus, son of King Cleomenes, was detested at Sparta; he seized the opportunity of fighting abroad. But when he came to Agrigentum, he made himself universally disliked on account of his insolence, his waste of public funds, his dissolute life, and his luxury more worthy of a Persian than a Lacedæmonian. He murdered Sosistratus, the chief of the Syracusan exiles, at a banquet. He was driven away, they even wished to stone him, but he escaped by night. The Agrigentines made peace with Agathocles who, having no further foreign hostility to fear, was able to strengthen and extend his authority. The Syracusan exiles, being forced to leave Agrigentum, took refuge at Messana, but the Messanians feared the anger of Agathocles; he offered to make alliance with them, and persuaded them to grant the freedom of the city to these exiles. Men were astonished by such noble sentiments, but some time later he found means to entice them from Messana, to the number of more than six hundred, and had them put to death. He succeeded in making his government recognised in most of the towns of Sicily, and on all sides he caused the death of all who inspired him with fear.

The ever increasing progress of Agathocles awoke the fears of the Carthaginians and they sent a large army into Sicily under the command of Hamilcar the son of Gisco. A battle took place near the river Himera between Gela and Agrigentum. It was said to have been on this spot that a former tyrant of Agrigentum, Phalaris, put his enemies to death by shutting them up in a bronze bull under which a fire was lighted; the hill on which Phalaris’ castle stood was still called Ecnomus. Agathocles seemed to have won the battle, when unexpected help came to the Carthaginians and gave them the victory. Then the towns which had accepted or suffered Syracusan suzerainty submitted successively to the Carthaginians, and Hamilcar, master of all the rest of Sicily, laid siege to Syracuse. Agathocles repaired the fortifications of the town and put it in a state of defence, but these precautions could only delay certain ruin, for no outside help could be expected. Agathocles then conceived a singularly daring plan: he resolved to carry the war into Africa. It was what Scipio did at a later date, but in less difficult circumstances, for in Agathocles’ case it was first necessary to leave a town besieged by land and sea.

[Sidenote: [310-307 B.C.]]

He had few soldiers; he set free and enlisted the slaves, and made them take an oath of fidelity. Although he had been pitiless towards his political adversaries, he knew that some were still alive, and that they were ready to capitulate with the enemy. He spoke of his plan to no one. He told the Syracusans that all he asked of them was a little patience, and that he had sure means of saving them. In the town he only left the soldiers requisite for its defence and embarked all the rest, being careful to take as hostages a member of each of the families which he mistrusted. He persuaded the rich to avoid the fatigues and privations of the siege by retiring to their estates, and when they were scattered he had them killed by his soldiers, and took their money. The port was blockaded by the Carthaginian fleet; but merchant vessels were seen bringing provisions to the besieged. The Carthaginians advanced to capture them. Agathocles seized the opportunity to leave the port, and the merchant vessels were able to enter while the Carthaginians pursued Agathocles’ fleet. He escaped by dint of hard rowing and landed with his army on the coast of Africa.

Then, having offered a sacrifice, he told his soldiers that he had made a vow if his vessels escaped the enemy to make torches of them for the principal goddesses of Sicily, Demeter and Core, and taking a brand from the altar he set fire to his fleet. The soldiers, losing all hope of return, had no other resource than victory. This act of temerity, which has become proverbial, was perhaps necessary. Agathocles had too few soldiers to employ some in protecting the fleet; it would have been taken by the Carthaginians, who were masters of the sea. They seized a pleasure town which Diodorus calls the Great Town and the White Tunis. Agathocles had not sufficient soldiers to leave garrisons; he razed it to the ground and encamped under the walls of Carthage.

The Carthaginians, seeing their country pillaged, thought that their army in Sicily had been destroyed. They had no time to collect mercenaries; they armed to the number of forty thousand and placed Hanno and Bomilcar at their head. These chiefs belonged to two rival families. The Carthaginians often took this precaution as a guarantee against usurpation. But this multitude of new and badly disciplined soldiers could not resist Agathocles’ little army. Hanno was killed, and Bomilcar, who aspired to the tyranny, led the troops back to the town. The terrified Carthaginians attributed their misfortune to the anger of the gods. For a long time they had sacrificed to Moloch only children whom they bought; they thought that he demanded more precious victims, and offered him two hundred children from the most wealthy families. Three hundred citizens offered themselves to complete the sacrifice. They were placed on the hands of the bronze statue, and a large fire was lighted; the victims fell into the burning flames. Diodorus believes that these human sacrifices, customary among Phœnician nations, possibly gave rise to the fable of Cronos devouring his children, for the Greeks identified their Cronos with the Phœnician Moloch.

The Carthaginians ordered Hamilcar to send them some of his troops; but not wishing to abandon Sicily, they announced the complete ruin of Agathocles and, as a proof, sent to Syracuse the beaks of his burnt vessels. Antander, Agathocles’ brother, wished to surrender; the Ætolian Eurymedon persuaded him not to despair, and a short time later they received news of the success of the Greeks. The courage of the besieged was renewed; Hamilcar wished to attempt an assault; he was taken, his head was cut off and sent to Agathocles, who threw it into the Carthaginian camp. His success won him the alliance of the Libyan and Numidian nations. He wrote to Ophellas, governor of Cyrene, who had fought under Alexander, entreating him to invade the Carthaginian territory, which should be shared after the victory; he would leave Africa to Ophellas, and would be content to keep Sicily. This plan tempted Ophellas; he was in communication with the Athenians, because he had married a descendant of Miltiades. He raised mercenaries in Greece and set out to cross the desert with a numerous army, carrying along with it women and children, for they hoped to found colonies. The army suffered much from the heat, from thirst, and from the bites of serpents. Agathocles received his allies warmly, gave them food, then murdered Ophellas and incorporated his soldiers in his own army; the women and children were sent to Sicily and perished in a tempest. Cyrene became part of the dominions of Ptolemy.

About the same time, the Carthaginians put Bomilcar to death for attempting to seize the tyranny. Agathocles might have profited by the confusion which this event caused in Carthage, but he had received alarming news. The Agrigentines had endeavoured to profit by Hamilcar’s death to free Sicily from both Carthaginian and Syracusan rule. Agathocles, leaving the command of his army to Archagathus, his eldest son, embarked on open boats which had been hastily built. On landing at Selinuntium, he was told that his officers had just defeated the Agrigentine army. He reduced to submission Heraclea, Thermæ, Centuripæ, Cephalœdium, and Apollonia. It was about this time that, following the example of the successors of Alexander, he took the title of king, and had it put on his coins (307). However, he wore no crown, and instead of imitating the mistrust of Dionysius the Elder, he went to the assembly without a guard. When he gave banquets, he was often served in an earthen bowl, and willingly recalled the time when he had begun life as a working potter. He was easy tempered and gay, so as to encourage his guests to talk freely, but he took note of all that he heard, and when, by this means, he had discovered which men were not to be trusted, he invited them separately and put them to death.

In Africa, his son Archagathus was at first successful; but he found his army weakened by desertions, in need of the necessities of life, and inclined to revolt. The soldiers complained of not being paid. He risked a battle and was defeated. Then he resolved to leave the army, as Bonaparte did in later times in Egypt. The soldiers, furious at finding themselves abandoned by their general, murdered his two sons and surrendered to the Carthaginians, who enrolled them in their army.

[Sidenote: [307-300 B.C.]]

On his return to Sicily, Agathocles first of all gave vent to his anger against Segesta, which had refused him subsidies. This expedition was marked, according to Diodorus, by atrocious cruelty: men were burned alive, pregnant women made to miscarry, young girls and children sold to the Bruttians, and the town of Segesta, peopled by new inhabitants, received the name of Dicæopolis--city of vengeance. At the same time Agathocles commanded his brother Antander to slay the parents, wives, and children of the soldiers of the African army, to revenge the murder of his sons. Diodorus adds that these savage executions produced such horror that Agathocles, despairing of keeping the power, proposed to Dinocrates, the general of the exiles, to re-establish the republic at Syracuse. But Dinocrates had no desire to do so; in the twenty years during which he had been leader of armed bands, he had acquired a taste for this kind of regal dignity. Unsuccessful in forming this alliance, Agathocles purchased Carthaginian help by yielding up certain towns to them, and beat Dinocrates whose troops surrendered. He had them massacred but spared Dinocrates, and as they were worthy of each other, he made him his lieutenant.

(From a statue)]

He undertook, following Dionysius’ example, the conquest of southern Italy. He began by seizing the Æolian Isles, in order to obtain the treasure consecrated to Core and to Hephæstus in the prytaneum of Lipara; then he prepared to cross into Italy. His preparations excited the fears of the Tarentines, who were already menaced in another direction by the native populations. They applied to the Spartans, whose king, Cleonymus, enrolled mercenaries at Cape Tænarum. He formed a considerable army by uniting with them the forces of Tarentum and the Messapians, with whom he made an alliance immediately on his arrival. The Lucanians in alarm made peace with Tarentum, and Cleonymus, not wishing to have come in vain, turned against Metapontum, which town, however, he had entered as an ally. He imposed on the town a tribute of six hundred talents, and took two hundred young girls as hostages, which caused him to be looked on with suspicion, for, although he was a Spartan, he had the reputation of a man of dissolute character; however, he was punished later on by the wicked behaviour of his wife Chelidonis. Then, instead of delivering Sicily from the tyranny of Agathocles, as he had announced the intention of doing, he attacked Corcyra, which appeared to him a convenient post for watching Greek affairs, raised a tribute, and established a garrison. Then, returning to Italy, without troubling either about the Tarentines who had summoned him, or about the Messapians whose alliance he had demanded, he began to fight and pillage indiscriminately, under pretext of punishing those whom he called rebels. He carried on this piratical war to the remotest part of the Adriatic Sea. The Italians killed some of his troops, a tempest destroyed part of his fleet, but he escaped and wound up his series of adventures by calling Pyrrhus against his country to avenge his matrimonial troubles.

[Sidenote: [300-289 B.C.]]

Agathocles conducted an expedition against Corcyra, in pursuit of Cleonymus, but found Cassander besieging the town by land and by sea. He burned the Macedonian fleet, and seized Corcyra, which he gave as a dowry to his daughter Lanassa, whom he married to Pyrrhus, king of Epirus. On his return he found that a number of his mercenaries were in revolt against his grandson Archagathus, who had not given them their pay; he had two thousand of them killed. According to Diodorus, they were Ligurians and Etruscans, but it seems probable that there were Bruttians among them, for this punishment led to a war between the Bruttians and Agathocles. He was defeated and revenged himself on the inhabitants of Croton, who had done him no injury. He told them not to be troubled by his advance, he was only travelling through the country to take his daughter into Epirus. They made no preparations for defence; he took the town, sacked it, and massacred the inhabitants. Then he attacked Hipponium, which was in the hands of the Bruttians, took it, and placed a garrison there which was massacred a short time later.

In his old age he suffered from a very painful illness of the joints, and his son and grandson disputed his succession during his life-time. The latter caused him to be poisoned by his favourite, Mænon, by means of a corrosive placed in a toothpick. This Mænon was a Segestan and had become the tyrant’s slave; in this manner he avenged his country’s ruin. It is said that Agathocles, to put an end to the torture he was suffering, had himself placed, while still alive, on the funeral pyre; this was believed to be a punishment for the sacrilege which he had committed in the Æolian Isles in stealing the sacred treasure of Hephæstus.

After the death of Agathocles, his son and grandson were killed by Mænon, who tried to seize the power with the help of the Carthaginians. The Syracusans chose Hicetas for their general, and it was agreed that they should give hostages and recall the exiles. But at the first election of the magistrates Agathocles’ mercenaries claimed that they were wronged, the citizens armed, a fight was imminent; at last it was agreed that the mercenaries should leave Sicily. They were mostly Campanians, known by the name of Mamertines.

Agathocles had taken a great number into his pay. When it was agreed that they were to leave Sicily, they went to Messana to embark, and were hospitably received; but during the night they killed the inhabitants and seized their wives and possessions. This settlement of Mamertines at Messana was a fresh element of trouble for Sicily, and later on became the cause of the first war between the Romans and the Carthaginians.

PYRRHUS AND THE ROMANS

[Sidenote: [282-272 B.C.]]

The absence of federal union between the Greek cities of Italy made them incapable of resisting the native populations, the Samnites, Lucanians, and Bruttians. They were therefore naturally induced to ask aid of the great Roman Republic, which alone was able to protect them. The earliest relations which Rome had with the Greek towns of Italy were friendly. Tarentum alone preferred having the Romans as enemies to having them as friends. By an act of mad provocation the Tarentines put themselves entirely in the wrong and caused war with Rome to become inevitable. Then, as was their custom, they called to their assistance a foreign prince, and although this time they chose the bravest and most skilful captain of the period, the struggle in which they engaged had as a consequence the final establishment of Roman government over all Italy.

(From a statue)]

The Lucanians and the Bruttians having attacked the town of Thurii, the ally of Rome, an army, commanded by the consul Fabricius was sent to its rescue, while at the same time a squadron of ten galleys cruised in the Gulf of Tarentum. The Tarentines, assembled in the theatre which overlooked the sea, perceived some of these vessels at the entrance of the port. Immediately an orator named Philochares, who was known by the name of the famous courtesan Thais because of his shameful immorality, exclaimed that the presence of these ships was an act of hostility, and that by the terms of a treaty, the Romans were not allowed to pass Cape Lacinium. The people hurried to the port, sank or captured the vessels, the duumvir who commanded them was killed, the rowers were reduced to slavery. The Roman senate sent an embassy to demand reparation. The ambassadors had scarcely entered the theatre where the people were assembled than they were greeted by insulting laughter. They wished to speak, but their pronunciation of Greek was ridiculed and they were driven out. A drunkard soiled the toga of the principal ambassador; the laughter increased. The Roman turned round and said: “Laugh! you will soon weep, for my robe shall be washed in your blood.”

They summoned Pyrrhus, king of Epirus, promising him the support of the Lucanians and Samnites. An account of his exploits and death has previously been given.

[Sidenote: [272-216 B.C.]]

All the natives of southern Italy who had greeted Pyrrhus as a saviour, were finally subdued to Roman rule. It was the rescue of the Greek towns which were still in existence, but they were only shadows of their former selves. Although free under the protection of Rome, they vanished obscurely from history. In the time of Strabo the name of Magna Græcia was already an ancient recollection, and the Greek language was only spoken at Naples, Rhegium, and Tarentum. For want of federal union between the autonomous cities, the Hellenic race with its brilliant civilisation had disappeared gradually from Italian soil. The Romans were about to reap its inheritance and transmit it to Gaul and Spain. They repeopled some of the former Greek colonies which had become barbarous, especially Posidonia and Hipponium, which had long been inhabited, the latter by the Campanians, the former by the Bruttians, and which had changed their Greek names for those of Pæstum and Vibo-Valentia.

The Roman peace did not restore to the Greek towns of Italy the glory which had radiated from their art and literature during the stormy period of their political independence. The innumerable painted vases which are admired in our museums, and the coins of infinite variety suffice to mark their place in the history of civilisation. Not rich Tarentum only, but towns of no importance, Terina, Velia, Metapontum, Heraclea in Lucania, made coins of inimitable perfection. The production of these works of art ceased abruptly with that communal autonomy of which the coin was the visible symbol. In 268, Rome, who, till then, had only had moulded copper coinage, for the first time made silver coins, and at the same time withdrew the right of coining from all her Italian subjects. Few laws have been more disastrous to art.

The beautiful iconic coins of King Hiero and his wife, Queen Philistis, mark the last period of Sicilian autonomy. After a victory gained over the Mamertines of Messana, Hiero was proclaimed king by the Syracusans who no longer felt capable of supporting the disturbances of freedom (269). On leaving Sicily Pyrrhus had said: “What a fine battle-field we leave the Romans and Carthaginians!” The fulfilment of this prophecy was not delayed, and the First Punic War, which broke out in 263, had Sicily for a stage. At the beginning Hiero, the ally of Carthage, was defeated by the Romans, and passed over to their side. His reign, a long and peaceful one, was a transition for the Syracusans between their stormy autonomy and the inevitable dominion of Rome.[b]

GREECE

Clime of the unforgotten brave!
Whose land from plain to mountain-cave
Was Freedom’s home or Glory’s grave!
Shrine of the mighty! can it be
That this is all remains of thee?
Approach, thou craven, crouching slave;
Say, is not this Thermopylæ?
These waters blue that round you lave,
O servile offspring of the free,
Pronounce what sea, what shore is this?
The gulf, the rock of Salamis!
These scenes, their story not unknown,
Arise and make again your own;
Snatch from the ashes of your sires
The embers of their former fires;
And he who in the strife expires
Will add to theirs a name of fear
That Tyranny shall quake to hear,
And leave his sons a hope, a fame,
They too will rather die than shame;
For Freedom’s battle once begun,
Bequeathed by bleeding sire to son,
Though baffled oft is ever won.
Bear witness, Greece, thy living page,
Attest it, many a deathless age:
While kings, in dusty darkness hid,
Have left a nameless pyramid,
Thy heroes, though the general doom
Have swept the column from their tomb,
A mightier monument command,
The mountains of their native land!
There points thy muse to stranger’s eye
The graves of those that cannot die!
’Twere long to tell, and sad to trace,
Each step from splendour to disgrace:
Enough,--no foreign foe could quell
Thy soul, till from itself it fell;
Yes! self-abasement paved the way
To villain-bonds and despot sway.

--BYRON; _The Giaour_.

CONCLUDING SUMMARY

THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE HELLENIC SPIRIT

WRITTEN SPECIALLY FOR THE PRESENT WORK

BY DR. ULRICH VON WILAMOWITZ-MÖLLENDORFF

PROFESSOR OF CLASSICAL PHILOLOGY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF BERLIN, ETC.

Homer stands at the beginning of Greek history; nothing before him, nothing beside him, a great gulf fixed between him and everything after; yet there is nothing Greek on which his light or shadow does not fall. Homer is a world in himself, and what a world he is! In the eyes of many, even to this day, he stands for the sum total of the Greek spirit; in the eyes of some, for the whole body of poetry. What the two epics set before us is so complete, so individual, that in spite of all concessions in detail, the oneness of the poem and of the author is constantly obtruding itself upon our notice anew. Homer is so little antiquated that he seems to be of no age; we place him in a sunnier morning-time of mankind, that is all; but to range him in the sequence of history, to conceive of him as under conditions of time and place seems like profanation; this, like so much else, he has in common with the Old Testament. And yet to classify him thus is the first necessity of real comprehension. The Greeks themselves have not done much to help us. About the time of Socrates a school of æsthetic criticism restricted the sacred name of the poet Homer, certainly not without some show of reason, to the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_; and thus these poems have come down to us, but the price we pay is the loss of all others of equally Homeric origin; and hence Homer stands more than ever alone. The last word of the philology of antiquity was that Homer ought to be explained only by himself. Modern philology seemed on the way to the same conclusion.

By the discoveries of the last generation the ban of this isolation has been broken. Only by wilful blindness can the Ilium of Homer be dissociated from the Ilium restored to light on Hissarlik, though the remains of the latter go far back beyond the time of Homer and Priam. Not the age of the Homeric poets alone, but the age of the Homeric heroes rises up before us from these strongholds and tombs. The links that bind it to the older civilisation of Asia and of Egypt lie revealed, positive chronological data already enable us to determine the certainty of this or that. From these actual remains we begin to gain some conception of the history and the peoples whose poetic reflection shines for us in the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_.

On the shores of the Ægean Sea, in the second half of the second thousand years before Christ, there existed a sumptuous civilisation which had received impulses from the East and from the South, but in which we nevertheless recognise the spirit of the Greece immortalised in the Homeric poems; and in the Asiatic home of Homer the connecting threads do not break off short as we trace them back. In the mother-country, on the other hand, other savage Greek tribes, whom we name after the Dorians, forced their way in; they destroyed the ancient superior civilisation, reduced some of its representatives to slavery, and drove the rest over into Asia. There was another immigration into Asia, this time of the Phrygio-Thracian tribes, the ancestors of the Armenians; such of the earlier population as were not reduced to slavery being driven south. These tribes we are wont to call after the Carians. There was a time when they reached out towards Europe, and in a few islands they continued for centuries to struggle against the Hellenising influence to which in the long run they completely succumbed. But as the study of this long and important period is still in its infancy, our main object should still be the collection of material; it will be one of the principal tasks of the next generation to sift and elaborate what has been accumulated. At the present time it is more important than any amount of detail for us to understand what is the historic background both for the subject-matter of the Homeric epics and for the practice of this form of poetry and the existence of the poets who used it.

The Homeric poems are a legacy from the first great period of Greek history. We may approximately fix the year 800 B.C. as their latest possible date. The subject-matter of the Epos, the Heroic legend, is the deposit of historical reminiscences of that earlier time. It was wholly fit that men should see in the epic heroes the founders of their own nation and of their own civilisation; but in point of fact it was through Homer that the Greek nation first acquired consciousness of itself, of its individuality and of the common blood in its veins. Not in the time of the heroes alone, but in that of the poets of the Epos, the Greeks had no national unity and less than no national feeling, and the same holds good of their civilisation. The tales which Homer tells are laid to a great extent in Argos, Thebes, and Sparta; all the heroes come from the country which we call Hellas and distinguish from Asia as their mother-country. Nearly all the Homeric gods have their homes there likewise. But now gods and heroes, like Agamemnon’s Achæan host, are taken across to the northwestern angle of Asia. Achilles has conquered Lesbos; the descendants of Agamemnon rule in Mytilene and Cyme. Cyme, Smyrna, and Chios are the reputed birth-places of Homer. Here, where later the Æolian dialect comes into collision with the mightier Ionian, was perfected the artificial dialect of the epic,--a dialect spoken in this form at no time and in no place,--and the heroic verse that was at no time and in no place a really popular form, and was first imported into Lesbos itself by the Ionian Epos. Here, side by side with the ruling class which claimed descent from the Homeric gods and heroes, was evolved a class of professional bards, and amongst them arose the gifted poets whose names have been forgotten in the fame of the one and only Homer. Let us hope that the real Homer was worthy of this pre-eminence. By these Homerides the Epos, first sung to the lute, and then recited, was carried farther and farther among the islands and along the coast. The subject-matter awakened interest everywhere; being, as it were, national history, the form won for itself an ever widening circle of appreciation. Gradually in the mother-country there were found native bards who learned from wandering rhapsodists the art of making poetry in the Homeric style, that is to say, of using a foreign language and a foreign art-form, but to express new matter, which was nevertheless invariably linked in some fashion with the world of Homeric heroes. Accordingly, the production of epic poems, ever based upon Homeric legend, was maintained in the mother-country for centuries after it had died out in Ionia, continuing into the sixth century. It is through these circles, in the main, that Homer has been preserved.

The cardinal point was that, in the Homeric Epos, the Greeks acquired an organ of speech capable of expressing all that men could say and hear. It was a well-defined and yet highly elastic style, not by any means exclusively adapted to narrative; on the contrary they never abandoned the practice of casting instruction of all kinds into this form, which was popularised and made generally intelligible by the school from the time there were schools at all. It was also used in incantations, in monumental inscriptions, and in the fleeting jest. The most abstract philosophy, the description of the starry heavens, the dogmatic side of astrology, nay even the Psalms and the Gospel of St. John, have been clothed in Homeric garb. In like manner it is characteristic of the genius of Greece that it begins its evolution by creating such a mode of expression, and for a thousand years does not grow weary of it. The instinct for form and the adherence to a form once discovered are likewise Greek; their combination begets at first an unparalleled achievement, but for centuries long it has to drudge in the service of imitative facility and orthodox formalism.

Homer, moreover, created for the Greeks their heroic legend. The whole wealth of scattered and desultory reminiscence and tradition among the various tribes and families, combined with all that occupied the memory and imagination of man, was gathered together in one by the art of the Epic poets. Thus another and more beautiful domain was built up in the imaginations of men, from which a light fell on the present so brilliant that the present paled before it, while even as children men began to make themselves at home in that domain. Here it was that the Greeks found their common fatherland, proud and united, whilst they were still at daggers drawn with one another upon earth, and once more when they were all subject to foreign lords; to this day all those of us who have drunk a draught from Homer’s spring, feel at home in this region. Their gods the Greeks, likewise, received from Homer; not the faith by which the heart is made heavy and light, rendered contrite and redeemed, but the names and the histories, the relations and the amours of their celestial host--that is to say, their mythology.

The name itself implies how far it was from anything like divine revelation and holiness. The muse has much to say that is untrue but resembles truth. Homeric art, however, understood the secret of humanising the stories of the gods as effectually as the stories of tribes and kings. And this Homeric art took captive the fancy of the listeners, that is, the fancy of the whole nation as soon as it gave ear to the poetry of Homer. Homer gave to the Greek his gods, and all the Greek gods turned into men with the gift. He gives us a complete picture of nature too, he teaches us to see what surrounds us, and the sorrows and joys that condition our brief life under the sun. The roseate flush of dawn, the twinkling of the dog-star, the rush of the hurricane, the babble of the mountain stream, the tops of the fir trees in the highland forest, and the clumps of asphodel on untilled ground; the lions and wolves in the Asiatic mountain country, the horse and the hound, the companions of man, he sees everything, shows everything, loves everything; above all, the sea, eternal, ever new, that has become a home to the Ionian in lieu of mother-earth. In the light in which he viewed Nature and set her forth the Greeks accustomed themselves to look upon her. Not only so, but whole generations took pleasure in the reproduction of what had once been done, and turned their eyes aside from the contemplation of the Real, the infinitude whereof no Homer can exhaust.

In fine, the judgment passed upon Homer by Horace, who repeats the verdict of the stoics, contains a large measure of truth:

_“Qui, quid sit pulcrum, quid turpe, quid utile, quid non,_
_Planius ac melius Chrysippo et Crantore dicit.”_

He gives us a complete picture of the doings of man, shows us princes and beggars, old men and boys, the budding maiden and the perfection of dæmonic beauty. So rich is this completeness, so profound the poet’s knowledge of life, that the thing we most clearly realise is the utter preposterousness of any attempt to compare Homer with any popular poetry whatsoever. Rather does Plato rightly name him the grandsire of tragedy, and only one picture of the world can claim a birthright equal to that of Homer--the picture set forth on the stage of William Shakespeare.

In this Homeric delineation of mankind, which includes immortal men, to wit, the gods, and has the portrayal of nature for its complement, lies that specifically Homeric quality which casts a spell over every unspoilt mind, and which the finest art-critics of all times and nations never grow weary of praising. It bears witness to a high psychological culture in both poets and listeners. No state of primitive barbarism such as Tacitus depicts in the Germani, none but an old and richly developed civilisation, could lead up to this. The fresh observation of nature in the pictures of Knossos, the rigid stylistic convention of the cuttle-fish on the golden platter of Mycenæ, for example, the bold ornament on painted vessels, like the pitcher of Marseilles, the architecture of the beehive tombs, show the Homeric sense of art in other regions and at a pre-Homeric period.

This Homeric art is certainly in the main Hellenic. But for all that, it is only one side of the Hellenic spirit, which is not even remotely understood by those who identify it with Homer. A great danger is already threatening this form of art in the shape of conventionalism, of stereotyped beauty. It grows too easy to be a Homerides, and he who rests satisfied with such an achievement thereby renounces all aspiration to become a Homer. And the life depicted by Homer conceals beneath its brilliant surface much not only of hollowness but of evil. There is a total lack of national sentiment; there is no state; properly speaking there is no religion. These gods will vanish into thin air like vapours at the advent of a true god who wins men’s hearts to serve him. These men and women enjoy and suffer--to what end? To blossom and wither like the leaves of the woodland. What is the end of this brilliant world? The horrors of devastation for Ilium, and for the Achæans, returning home in their fleet--shipwreck.

The Ionians had just been torn from their native mountains and springs, from their ancestors and from their gods; in dire distress they had fought for and conquered new settlements on a foreign coast and among foreign races. They had been constrained to turn away from their mother-earth: the sea cannot take its place, for the earth alone is θεσμοφόρος. So it is that the legitimate heirs of the Homeric poets are the very men who shake off Homeric ideals--the Milesian merchant who traverses all seas, founds factories and cities, mingles with all nations, gathers information and wealth from all sides; the Ionian artist who abandons the excrescences of conventional style with the conventional Heroic legend, in his search for what is characteristic and individual; the subjective thinker of Ionia who seeks in his own breast the solution of the world’s enigma, and whether he discovers cosmic law there or in the contemplation of the heavens, ruthlessly thrusts away from him the fair illusions of Homer.

Meanwhile, in obscurity and gloom another Greece slowly arose in the mother-country. The immigrants, before whom the peoples of Agamemnon, Achilles, and Nestor--in so far as they were not enslaved by their rough masters--fled across the sea, had to begin from the beginning. The remains of the old civilisation stood in their midst, uncomprehended and mysterious as the Roman strongholds in the countries inundated by the flood of the Germani of the great migration. Where, as in Sparta, the forms of life fitted for migratory conditions were preserved in art, that primitive rudeness survived which (to take an instance) permitted the use of the axe only and not of the plane in the fashioning of a door-post. We recognise everywhere the oldest and lowest forms of religion--fetich-worship, totemism, a gloomy form of ancestor-worship; human sacrifice is frequent. Ornament has lost the sensuous delight in form proper to the Heroic period; it begins with lines and dots. The influence of the East must for a while have been totally arrested. How ill at ease an Asiatic Greek must have felt in this world is shown by Hesiod, who inveighs against his Heliconian village-home. He was the son of an immigrant Æolian. A large part of the country, not only the whole of the west coast, but also Thessaly the home of Hellen, _i.e._, of the whole nation, never again played an active part in civilisation. This, of course, had to come from the Greeks of Asia; and the cities of the eastern border in which the remains of the original population preponderated, Athens and Eubœa, to which the maritime city of Corinth was added from the Dorian cities, were the entrance gates to this civilisation. But the process of receiving and assimilating it was carried on in the main under the pressure of new modes of life, which we name after the Dorians. With regard to the older period we lack not direct evidence merely but credible information at almost every step: not till the beginning of the sixth century does it become possible to some extent to grasp this civilisation; but the institutions, their reflection in Heroic legend, and the character of the religion (not mere mythology) permit of a few inferences. The times were hard; for the most part a ruling class alone raised itself above the miserable, restless, joyless struggle for daily bread, and below it bondmen in many cases wore out a wretched existence. Not until the end of the period do men advance beyond the stage of primitive husbandry, and then not everywhere. Agriculture and cattle rearing remain the chief means of livelihood. The ruling class is warlike; where the mountains permit it, they pursue the sport of horse-racing, but for purposes of war horsemen are of little account. Highest in public esteem stands the physical exercise which in time of peace takes the place of military service; Greek gymnastics, of which Homer knows little, become hallowed by the competitive games which by degrees not only become the culminating moments of life but also evoke the first glimmer of public spirit.

The umpires at the Olympian games are the first to apply the name of Hellenes to the nation--more exactly speaking, to the class. For here it has come to pass that, though politically divided into numberless cantons, though involved in perpetual feuds and irreconcilable local animosities, the members of this class recognise one another, intermarry, call a truce for the festivals, and find a common interest in maintaining their class supremacy against the encroachments of the lower orders. The protection of the patriarchal organisation places Sparta at the head of a loose federation. The spirit of the age is masculine. The loin-cloth is laid aside at gymnastic exercises, the nude male form is the fairest of objects. The love of boys becomes not only a national institution but the sole province in which love claims the co-operation of the soul. Everything presents the sharpest contrast to Homer. Gymnastics require self-control and training; military service requires obedience; class supremacy is not favourable to the predominance of the individual man, but demands his subordination to the class. Thus, then, these men trained themselves strictly and austerely, and gained control over themselves, body and soul. They set up an ideal of the perfect man, who by training and obedience earns the right to be free and to rule. And they held out to him the prospect of becoming equal with the gods, even as Hercules entered heaven; but on earth they kept him within bounds by raising above him the other Greek ideal, that of the free self-governing community--the aggregate of equally worthy and therefore equally privileged free men. However much the reality may have altered, these two ideals remained inviolate, and they are the specifically European element which the Greeks have to show as against the East--the Greeks of the mother-country, be it understood, for Homer knows of nothing but an unbridled individualism; he does homage to the hero who, in good and evil alike, knows no bounds. These nobles are not licensed to aspire beyond the limits of their class nor do they wish to do so. They invented an ideal of happiness that could be realised on earth; all that was required was to keep within bounds. Hercules, the ideal hero of this society, had nothing but toil upon earth, but in return he made the step from human to divine by his own strength. This grand conception betrays the lengths to which Doric self-reliance believed itself able to go.

The free man has come into being; the power above him, which we call society or the state, has also come; at that time it was called Law or Custom--_Nomos_; and this power is sanctified by the existence of an exponent of the divine revelation, the god (_i.e._ the Apollo) of Delphi. The authority of this god, and of the oracles by which he answers through his priests, is undisputed. He addresses the mortal with the warning “Know thyself,” that is, as a creature that is mortal. He enjoins self-control and self-restraint; the numerous Greek adages recommending moderation, the praise of the mean and of equality, the encomiums on _sophrosyne_, belong to this period and to this world. No doubt, so much would not have been said of this virtue if it had not been so rare, but erroneous as it is to conceive of the Greeks as examples of the virtues they recommend, the establishment of this moral ideal is significant; a complement to their faith in the power of man to gain admittance into heaven by force. Under Apollo’s direction music takes its place by the side of gymnastics; music also masters the wild instincts; it includes every kind of intellectual culture known to this society. The boy learns to sing, to strike the lute, to keep time in the dance; and the consecration of worship rests upon it all. Harmony must reign in the deportment and movement of the body, and of the soul likewise. The piper takes his place in the column on the march; it marks an important advance that the line of battle now marches to meet the enemy in step and in serried ranks; it is thought a fit subject for the painter’s art, and not without justice. The ruling caste does not often produce a poet who is a musician at the same time; the poets are for the most part brought from the East: but the nobles must be able to sing the songs, to dance, and even to improvise a verse to a set tune over the wine. The female sex also takes its part in music; choirs of maidens are popular, and native poetesses occur more frequently than native poets. Side by side with solemn gravity we get, at stated times of the ceremonial year, the most unbridled enjoyment, ecstatic revelry, the grossest kind of burlesque; but this is curbed; it appeals more to the lower social strata, and does not find expression in art until a late period.

Like all institutions, this worship and the whole system of the cult of Apollo was not established without fierce struggles; and it incorporated into itself, and thus rendered innocuous, many things which it was unable to cast forth. This was true more particularly of ecstasy. There had been a time when the nation was thrilled by a mighty religious movement having its source in the Phrygio-Thracian religions; the great god Dionysus came, he who walks the earth demanding faith and followers, who possesses men with his spirit and enables a man to experience what he himself experienced, and is ever experiencing afresh--divine madness, death and resurrection. The movement naturally laid hold upon the Greeks of the East also, but it did not take souls captive there; the Homeric Greeks have no appreciation of mysticism. Here, on the contrary, within the religion that was gradually being Homerised, a counter-current set in, capable, indeed, of becoming a sub-current, but only if its course were directed into the bed of the official religion, and if Apollo effected a compromise with Dionysus. In narrower circles, outside the state religion, this doctrine and practice based upon the ecstasy, the redemption of man, have always held their own; the old religion of Demeter passed through similar crises, and the incorporation into the state cult of secret rites such as were practised at Eleusis, did not suffice to stifle the longing for an individual religion. But for the time the Apolline system is triumphant.

Doric architecture is now added to the solemn rendering of Doric music. The temple, the house of the image of the god, made, not for congregational worship, but for solemn procession or devout meditation, is the consummate expression of this piety. That the gods should take the form of men is an outcome of the Homeric temper; but Zeus as a naked man hurling lightning, Apollo as a naked youth, the calm, majestic matrons and maidens--these are the Doric ideal of divinity. In addition to these we get the statues of men, the male image (ἀνδριάς) and the virginal image (κόρη). The inspiration of these arts certainly came from the East, but what interests and delights us in archaic sculpture and in those very examples which seem to us typical, as so genuinely Greek, is the Doric element; it reveals itself to us not only in the Æginetæ and the statues of nude youths who are just as much gods as men, but also in the Idolino and the Delphic charioteer, the Hestia Giustiniani and the female prize-runner, in the works of Polyclitus and again in those of Myron; for Athens long shares in this culture, the chief prophet of which at the twelfth hour was the Theban Pindar, with his gift for showing us both its splendour and its remoteness from modern sentiment. To this day Homer and the Athenians produce a vivid impression on every unsophisticated mind; Pindar requires arduous historical study, like Virgil, Dante, and Calderon.