however, restrict their public enjoyments to athletic exercises.
Abundant provision for intellectual enjoyment was afforded. They were
not readers. Books were beyond the reach of the multitude. But the loss
was largely made up to them by the public recitals of poetry and
history, the speeches of the great orators, and in particular the
dramatic performances, which were annually exhibited before all the
citizens of Athens who chose to attend.
The stage on which these dramas were performed, at first a mere
platform, then a wooden edifice, became finally a splendid theatre,
wrought in the sloping side of the Acropolis, and presenting a vast
semicircle of seats, cut into the solid rock, rising tier above tier,
and capable of accommodating thirty thousand spectators. At first no
charge was made for admission, and when, later, the crowd became so
great that a charge had to be made, every citizen of Athens who desired
to attend, and could not afford to pay, was presented from the public
treasury with the price of one of the less desirable seats.
Annually, at the festivals of Dionysus, or Bacchus, and particularly at
the great Dionysia, held at the of March and beginning of April, great
tragic contests were held, lasting for two days, during which the
immense theatre was filled with crowds of eager spectators. A play
seldom lasted more than an hour and a half, but three on the same
general subject, called a trilogy, were often presented in succession,
and were frequently followed by a comic piece from the same poet. That
the actors might be heard by the vast open-air audiences, some means of
increasing the power of the voice was employed, while masks were worn to
increase the apparent size of the head, and thick-soled shoes to add to
the height.
The chorus was a distinctive feature of these dramas,--tragedies and
comedies alike. As there were never more than three actors upon the
stage, the chorus--twelve to fifteen in number--represented other
characters, and often took part in the action of the play, though their
duty was usually to diversify the movement of the play by hymns and
dirges, appropriate dances, and the music of flutes. For centuries these
dramatic representations continued at Athens, and formed the basis of
those which proved so attractive to Roman audiences, and which in turn
became the foundation-stones of the modern drama.
_PYRRHUS AND THE ROMANS._
Seven years after the death of Alexander, the Macedonian conqueror,
there was born in Epirus, a country of Greece, a warrior who might have
rivalled Alexander's fortune and fame had he, like him, fought against
Persians. But he had the misfortune to fight against Romans, and his
story became different. He was the greatest general of his time.
Hannibal has said that he was the greatest of any age. But Rome was not
Persia, and a Roman army was not to be dealt with like a Persian horde.
Had Alexander marched west instead of east, he would probably not have
won the title of "Great."
Pyrrhus, king of Epirus, claimed descent from Pyrrhus, son of Achilles.
While still an infant a rebellion broke out in Epirus. His father was
absent, and the rebel chiefs sought to kill him, but he was hurried away
in his nurse's arms, and his life saved. When he was ten years old,
Glaucius, king of Illyria, who had brought him up among his own
children, conquered Epirus and placed him on the throne. Seven years
afterwards rebellion broke out again, and Pyrrhus had once more to fly
for his life. He now fought in some great battles, married the daughter
of the king of Egypt, returned with an army, and again became king of
Epirus. He afterwards conquered all Macedonia, and, like Alexander the
Great, whose fame he envied, looked about him for other worlds to
conquer.
During the years over which our tales have passed a series of foreign
powers had threatened Greece. First, in the days of legend, it had found
a foreign enemy in Troy. Next came the great empire of Persia, with
which it had for centuries to deal. Then rose Macedonia, the first
conqueror of Greece. Meanwhile, in the west, a new enemy had been slowly
growing in power and thirst for conquest, that of Rome, before whose
mighty arm Greece was destined to fall and vanish from view as one of
the powers of the earth. And the first of the Greeks to come in warlike
contact with the Romans was Pyrrhus. How this came about, and what arose
from it, we have now to tell.
Step by step the ambitious Romans had been extending their power over
Italy. They were now at war with Tarentum, a city of Greek origin on the
south Italian coast. The Tarentines, being hard pressed by their
vigorous foes, sent an embassy to Greece, and asked Pyrrhus, then the
most famous warrior of the Grecian race, to come to their aid against
their enemy. This was in the year 281 B.C.
Pyrrhus had been for some years at peace, building himself a new capital
city, which he profusely adorned with pictures and statues. But peace
was not to his taste. Consumed by ambition, restless in temperament, and
anxious to make himself a rival in fame of Alexander the Great, he was
ready enough to accept this request, and measure his strength in battle
against the most warlike nation of the West.
His wise counsellor, Cineas, asked him what he would do next, if he
should overcome the Romans, who were said to be great warriors and
conquerors of many peoples.
"The Romans once overcome," he said, proudly, "no city, Greek or
barbarian, would dare to oppose me, and I should be master of all
Italy."
"Well," said Cineas, "if you conquer Italy, what next?"
"Greater victories would follow. There are Libya and Carthage to be
won."
"And then?" asked Cineas.
"Then I should be able to master all Greece."
"And then?" continued the counsellor.
"Then," said Pyrrhus, "I would live at ease, eat and drink all day, and
enjoy pleasant conversation."
"And what hinders you from taking your ease now, without all this peril
and bloodshed?"
Pyrrhus had no answer to this. But thirst for fame drove him on, and the
days of ease never came.
In the following year Pyrrhus crossed to Italy with an army of about
twenty-five thousand men, and with a number of elephants, animals which
the Romans had never seen, and with which he hoped to frighten them from
the battle-field. He had been promised the aid of all southern Italy,
and an army of three hundred and fifty thousand infantry and twenty
thousand cavalry. In this he was destined to disappointment. He found
the people of Tarentum given up to frivolous pleasure, enjoying their
theatres and festivals, and expecting that he would do their fighting
while they spent their time in amusement.
They found, however, that they had gained a master instead of a servant.
Frivolity was not the idea of war held by Pyrrhus. He at once shut up
the theatre, the gymnasia, and the public walks, stopped all feasting
and revelry throughout the city, closed the clubs or brotherhoods, and
kept the citizens under arms all day. Some of them, in disgust at this
stern discipline, left the city. Pyrrhus thereupon closed the gates, and
would let none out without permission. He even went so far as to put to
death some of the demagogues, and to send others into exile. By these
means he succeeded in making something like soldiers of the
pleasure-loving Tarentines.
Thus passed the winter. Meanwhile, the Romans had been as active as
their enemies. They made the most energetic preparations for war, and
with the opening of the spring were in the field. Pyrrhus, who had
failed to receive the great army promised him, did not feel strong
enough to meet the Roman force. He offered peace and arbitration, but
his offers were scornfully rejected. He then sent spies to the Roman
camp. One of these was caught and permitted to observe the whole army on
parade. He was then sent back to Pyrrhus, with the message that if he
wanted to see the Roman army he had better come himself in open day,
instead of sending spies by night.
The two armies met at length on the banks of the river Siris, where
Rome fought its first great battle with a foreign foe. The Romans were
the stronger, but the Greeks had the advantage in arms and discipline.
The conflict that followed was very different from the one fought by
Alexander at Issus. So courageous and unyielding were the contestants
that each army seven times drove back its foes.
"Beware," said an officer to Pyrrhus, as he charged at the head of his
cavalry, "of that barbarian on the black horse with white feet. He has
marked you for his prey."
"What is fated no man can avoid," said the king, heroically. "But
neither this man nor the stoutest soldier in Italy shall encounter me
for nothing."
At that instant the Italian rode at him with levelled lance and killed
his horse. But his own was killed at the same instant, and while Pyrrhus
was remounting his daring foe was surrounded and slain.
On this field, for the first time, the Greek spear encountered the Roman
sword. The Macedonian phalanx with its long pikes was met by the Roman
legion with its heavy blades. The pike of the phalanx had hitherto
conquered the world. The sword of the legion was hereafter to take its
place. But now neither seemed able to overcome the other. In vain the
Romans sought to hew a way with their swords through the forest of
pikes, and as a last resort the Roman general brought up a chosen body
of cavalry, which he had held in reserve. These came on in fierce
charge, but Pyrrhus met them with a more formidable reserve,--his
elephants.
On beholding these strange monsters, terrible alike to horse and rider,
the Roman cavalry fell back in confusion. The horses could not be
brought to face their huge opponents. Their disorder broke the ranks of
the infantry. Pyrrhus charged them with his Thessalian cavalry, and the
Roman army was soon in total rout, leaving its camp to the mercy of its
foes.
During the battle Pyrrhus, knowing that the safety of his army depended
on his own life, exchanged his arms, helmet, and scarlet cloak for the
armor of Megacles, one of his officers. The borrowed splendor proved
fatal to Megacles. The Romans made him their mark. Every one struck at
him. He was at last struck down and slain, and his helmet and cloak were
carried to Lavinus, the Roman commander, who had them borne in triumph
along his ranks. Pyrrhus, fearing that this mistake might prove fatal,
at once threw off his helmet and rode bareheaded along his own line, to
let his soldiers see that he was still alive, and that a scarlet cloak
was not a king.
The battle over, Pyrrhus surveyed the field, strewn thickly with the
dead of both armies, his valiant soul moved to a new respect for his
foes.
"If I had such soldiers," he cried, "I could conquer the world." Then,
noting the numbers of his own dead, he added, "Another such victory,
and I must return to Epirus alone."
He sent Cineas, his wise counsellor, to Rome to offer terms of peace.
Nearly four thousand of his army had fallen, and these largely Greeks;
the weather was unfavorable for an advance; alliance with these brave
foes might be wiser than war. Many of the Romans, too, thought the same;
but while they were debating in the Forum there was borne into this
building the famous censor Appius Claudius, once a leader in Rome, now
totally blind and in extreme old age. His advent was like that of blind
Timoleon to the Syracusan senate. The senators listened in deepest
silence when the old man rose to speak. What he said we do not know, but
his voice was for war, and the senate, moved by his impassioned appeal,
voted that there should be no peace with Pyrrhus while he remained in
Italy, and ordered Cineas to leave Rome, with this ultimatum, that very
day.
Peace refused, Pyrrhus advanced against Rome. He marched through a
territory which for years had been free from the ravages of war, and was
in a state of flourishing prosperity. It was plundered by his soldiers
without mercy. On he came until Rome itself lay visible to his eyes from
an elevation but eighteen miles away. Another day's march would have
brought him to its walls. But a strong Roman army was in his front;
another army hung upon his rear; his own army was weakened by
dissensions between the Greeks and Italians; he deemed it prudent to
retreat with the plunder he had gained.
Another winter passed. Pyrrhus had many prisoners, whom he would not
exchange or ransom unless the Romans would accept peace. But he treated
them well, and even allowed them to return to Rome to enjoy the winter
holiday of the Saturnalia, on their solemn promise that they would
return if peace was still refused. The senate was still firm for war,
and the prisoners returned after the holidays, the sturdy Romans having
passed an edict that any prisoner who should linger in Rome after the
day fixed for the return should suffer death.
In the following spring another battle was fought near Asculum, on the
plains of Apulia. Once more the Roman sword was pitted against the
Macedonian pike. The nature of the ground was such that the Romans were
forced to attack their enemy in front, and they hewed in vain with their
swords upon the wall of pikes, which they even grasped with their hands
and tried to break. The Greeks kept their line intact, and the Romans
were slaughtered without giving a wound in return. At length they gave
way. Then the elephants charged, and the repulse became a rout. But this
time the Romans fled only to their camp, which was close at hand. They
had lost six thousand men. Pyrrhus had lost three thousand five hundred
of his light-armed troops. The heavy-armed infantry was almost unharmed.
Here was another battle that proved almost as bad as a defeat. Pyrrhus
had lost many of the men he had brought from Epirus. He was not in
condition to take the field again, and no more soldiers could just then
be had from Greece. The Romans were now willing to make a truce, and
Pyrrhus crossed soon after to Sicily, to aid the Greeks of that island
against their Carthaginian foes, He remained there two years, fighting
with varied success and defeat. Then he returned to Tarentum, which
again needed his aid against its persistent Roman enemies.
On his way there Pyrrhus passed through Locri. Here was a famous temple
of Proserpine, in whose vaults was a large treasure, which had been
buried for an unknown period, and on which no mortal eye was permitted
to gaze. Pyrrhus took bad advice and plundered the temple of the sacred
treasure, placing it on board his ships. A storm arose and wrecked the
ships, and the stolen treasure was cast back on the Locrian coast.
Pyrrhus now ordered it to be restored, and offered sacrifices to appease
the offended goddess. She gave no signs of accepting them. He then put
to death the three men who had advised the sacrilege, but his mind
continued haunted with dread of divine vengeance. Proserpine, who was
seemingly deeply offended, might bring upon him ruin and defeat, and the
hearts of his soldiers were weakened by dread of impending evils.
Once more Pyrrhus met the Romans in the field, but no longer with
success. One of his elephants was wounded, and ran wildly into his
ranks, throwing them into disorder. Eight of these animals were driven
into ground from which there was no escape. They were captured by the
Romans. As the battle continued one wing of the Roman army was repulsed;
but they assailed the elephants with such a shower of light weapons that
these huge brutes turned and fled through the ranks of the phalanx,
throwing it into disorder. On their heels came the Romans. The Greek
line once broken, the swords of the Romans gave them a great advantage
over the long spears of the enemy. Cut down in numbers, the Greeks were
thrown into confusion, and were soon flying in panic, hotly pursued by
their foes. How many were slain is not known, but the defeat was
decisive. Retreating to Tarentum, Pyrrhus resolved to leave Italy,
disgusted with his failure and with the supineness of his allies, and
disappointed in his ambitious hopes. He reached Epirus again with little
more than eight thousand troops, and without money enough to maintain
even these. Thus ended the first meeting of Greeks and Romans in war.
The remainder of the story of Pyrrhus may be soon told. He had counted
on living in ease after his wars, but ease was not for him. His
remaining life was spent in war. He invaded and conquered Macedonia. He
engaged in war against the Spartans, and was repulsed from their capital
city. At last, in his attack on Argos, while forcing his way through its
streets, he fell by a woman's hand. A tile was cast from a house on his
head, which hurled him stunned from his horse, and he was killed in the
street. Thus ignobly perished the greatest general of his age.
_PHILOPOEMEN AND THE FALL OF SPARTA._
The history of Greece may well seem remarkable to modern readers, since
it brings us in contact with conditions which have ceased to exist
anywhere upon the earth. To gain some idea of its character, we should
have to imagine each of the counties of one of our American States to be
an independent nation, with its separate government, finances, and
history, its treaties of peace and declarations of war, and its frequent
fierce conflicts with some neighboring county. Each of these counties
would have its central city, surrounded by high walls, and its citizens
ready at any moment to take arms against some other city and march to
battle against foes of their own race and blood. In some cases a single
county would have three or four cities, each hostile to the others, like
the cities of Thebes, Plataea, Thespiae, and Orchomenos, in Boeotia;
standing ready, like fierce dogs each in its separate kennel, to fall
upon one another with teeth and claws. It may further be said that of
the population of these counties five out of every six were slaves, and
that these slaves were white men, most of them of Greek descent. The
general custom in those days was either to slay prisoners in cold blood,
or sell them to spend the remainder of their lives in slavery.
This state of affairs was not confined to Greece. It existed in Italy
until Rome conquered all its small neighbor states. It existed in Asia
until the great Babylonian and Persian empires conquered all the smaller
communities. It was the first form of a civilized nation, that of a city
surrounded by enough farming territory to supply its citizens with food,
each city ready to break into war with any other, and each race of
people viewing all beyond its borders as strangers and barbarians, to be
dealt with almost as if they were beasts of prey instead of men and
brothers.
The cities of Greece were not only thus isolated, but each had its
separate manners, customs, government, and grade of civilization. Athens
was famous for its intellectual cultivation; Thebes had a reputation for
the heavy-headed dulness of its people; Sparta was a rigid war school,
and so on with others. In short, the world has gone so far beyond the
political and social conditions of that period that it is by no means
easy for us to comprehend the Grecian state.
Among those cities Sparta stood in one sense alone. While the others
were enclosed in strong walls, Sparta remained open and free,--its only
wall being the valorous hearts and strong arms of its inhabitants. While
other cities were from time to time captured and occasionally destroyed,
no foeman had set foot within Sparta's streets. Not until the days of
Epaminondas was Laconia invaded by a powerful foe; and even then Sparta
remained free from the foeman's tread. Neither Philip of Macedon, nor
his son Alexander, entered this proud city, and it was not until the
troublous later times that the people of Sparta, feeling that their
ancient warlike virtue was gone, built around their city a wall of
defence.
But the humiliation of that proud city was at hand. It was to be entered
by a foeman; the laws of Lycurgus, under which it had risen to such
might, were to come to an end; and lordly Sparta was to sink into
insignificance, and its glory remain but a memory to man.
About the year 252 B.C. was born Philopoemen, the last of the great
generals of Greece. He was the son of Craugis, a citizen of Megalopolis,
the great city which Epaminondas had built in Arcadia. Here he was
thoroughly educated in philosophy and the other learning of the time;
but his natural inclination was towards the life of a soldier, and he
made a thorough study of the use of arms and the management of horses,
while sedulously seeking the full development of his bodily powers.
Epaminondas was the example he set himself, and he came little behind
that great warrior in activity, sagacity, and integrity, though he
differed from him in being possessed of a hot, contentious temper, which
often carried him beyond the bounds of judgment.
Philopoemen was marked by plain manners and a genial disposition, in
proof of which Plutarch tells an amusing story. In his later years, when
he was general of a great Grecian confederation, word was brought to a
lady of Megara that Philopoemen was coming to her house to await the
return of her husband, who was absent. The good lady, all in a tremor,
set herself hurriedly to prepare a supper worthy of her guest. While she
was thus engaged a man entered dressed in a shabby cloak, and with no
mark of distinction. Taking him for one of the general's train who had
been sent on in advance, the housewife called on him to help her prepare
for his master's visit. Nothing loath, the visitor threw off his cloak,
seized the axe she offered him, and fell lustily to work in cutting up
fire-wood.
While he was thus engaged, the husband returned, and at once recognized
in his wife's lackey the expected visitor.
"What does this mean, Philopoemen?" he cried, in surprise.
"Nothing," replied the general, "except that I am paying the penalty of
my ugly looks."
Philopoemen had abundant practice in the art of war. Between Arcadia
and Laconia hostility was the normal condition, and he took part in many
plundering incursions into the neighboring state. In these he always
went in first and came out last. When there was no fighting to be done
he would go every evening to an estate he owned several miles from town,
would throw himself on the first mattress in his way and sleep like a
common laborer, and rising at break of day would go to work in the
vineyard or at the plough. Then returning to the town, he would employ
himself in public business or in friendly intercourse during the
remainder of the day.
When Philopoemen was thirty years old, Cleomenes, the Spartan king,
one night attacked Megalopolis, forced the guards, broke in, and seized
the market-place. The citizens sprang to arms, Philopoemen at their
head, and a desperate conflict ensued in the streets. But their efforts
were in vain, the enemy held their ground. Then Philopoemen set
himself to aid the escape of the citizens, making head against the foe
while his fellow-townsmen left the city. At last, after losing his horse
and receiving several wounds, he fought his way out through the gate,
being the last man to retreat. Cleomenes, finding that the citizens
would not listen to his fair offers for their return, and tired of
guarding empty houses, left the place after pillaging it and destroying
all he readily could.
The next year Philopoemen took part in a battle between King Antigonus
of Macedonia and the Spartans, in which the victory was due to his
charging the enemy at the head of the cavalry against the king's orders.
"How came it," asked the king after the battle, "that the horse charged
without waiting for the signal?"
"We were forced into it against our wills by a young man of
Megalopolis," was the reply.
"That young man," said Antigonus, with a smile, "acted like an
experienced commander."
During this battle a javelin, flung by a strong hand, passed through
both his thighs, the head coming out on the other side. "There he stood
awhile," says Plutarch, "as if he had been shackled, unable to move. The
fastening which joined the thong to the javelin made it difficult to
get it drawn out, nor would any one about him venture to do it. But the
fight being now at its hottest, and likely to be quickly decided, he was
transported with the desire of partaking in it, and struggled and
strained so violently, setting one leg forward, the other back, that at
last he broke the shaft in two; and thus got the pieces pulled out.
Being in this manner set at liberty, he caught up his sword, and running
through the midst of those who were fighting in the first ranks,
animated his men, and set them afire with emulation."