at the bottom, into which criminals condemned to death were
sometimes cast. Though probably an ancient Athenian punishment,
it seems to have become at the very least extremely rare, if not
entirely disused, during the times of Athens historically known
to us; but the phrase continued in speech after the practice had
become obsolete. The iron spikes depend on the evidence of the
Schol. Aristophan. Plutus, 431,—a very doubtful authority, when
we read the legend which he blends with his statement.
[275] Thucyd. iii, 70, 81, 82.
Against this chance of internal assailants Kleisthenês had to protect
the democratical constitution,—first, by throwing impediments
in their way and rendering it difficult for them to procure the
requisite support; next, by eliminating them before any violent
projects were ripe for execution. To do either the one or the other,
it was necessary to provide such a constitution as would not only
conciliate the good-will, but kindle the passionate attachment,
of the mass of citizens, insomuch that not even any considerable
minority should be deliberately inclined to alter it by force. It was
necessary to create in the multitude, and through them to force upon
the leading ambitious men, that rare and difficult sentiment which
we may term a constitutional morality; a paramount reverence for the
forms of the constitution, enforcing obedience to the authorities
acting under and within those forms, yet combined with the habit of
open speech, of action subject only to definite legal control, and
unrestrained censure of those very authorities as to all their public
acts,—combined too with a perfect confidence in the bosom of every
citizen, amidst the bitterness of party contest, that the forms of
the constitution will be not less sacred in the eyes of his opponents
than in his own. This coexistence of freedom and self-imposed
restraint,—of obedience to authority with unmeasured censure of the
persons exercising it,—may be found in the aristocracy of England
(since about 1688) as well as in the democracy of the American United
States: and because we are familiar with it, we are apt to suppose
it a natural sentiment; though there seem to be few sentiments more
difficult to establish and diffuse among a community, judging by the
experience of history. We may see how imperfectly it exists at this
day in the Swiss cantons; and the many violences of the first French
revolution illustrate, among various other lessons, the fatal effects
arising from its absence, even among a people high in the scale of
intelligence. Yet the diffusion of such constitutional morality,
not merely among the majority of any community, but throughout the
whole, is the indispensable condition of a government at once free
and peaceable; since even any powerful and obstinate minority may
render the working of free institutions impracticable, without being
strong enough to conquer ascendency for themselves. Nothing less
than unanimity, or so overwhelming a majority as to be tantamount
to unanimity, on the cardinal point of respecting constitutional
forms, even by those who do not wholly approve of them, can render
the excitement of political passion bloodless, and yet expose all the
authorities in the state to the full license of pacific criticism.
At the epoch of Kleisthenês, which by a remarkable coincidence is the
same as that of the regifuge at Rome, such constitutional morality,
if it existed anywhere else, had certainly no place at Athens; and
the first creation of it in any particular society must be esteemed
an interesting historical fact. By the spirit of his reforms,—equal,
popular, and comprehensive, far beyond the previous experience of
Athenians,—he secured the hearty attachment of the body of citizens;
but from the first generation of leading men, under the nascent
democracy, and with such precedents as they had to look back upon, no
self-imposed limits to ambition could be expected: and the problem
required was to eliminate beforehand any one about to transgress
these limits, so as to escape the necessity of putting him down
afterwards, with all that bloodshed and reaction, in the midst of
which the free working of the constitution would be suspended at
least, if not irrevocably extinguished. To acquire such influence
as would render him dangerous under democratical forms, a man must
stand in evidence before the public, so as to afford some reasonable
means of judging of his character and purposes; and the security
which Kleisthenês provided, was, to call in the positive judgment
of the citizens respecting his future promise purely and simply, so
that they might not remain too long neutral between two formidable
political rivals,—pursuant in a certain way to the Solonian
proclamation against neutrality in a sedition, as I have already
remarked in a former chapter. He incorporated in the constitution
itself the principle of _privilegium_ (to employ the Roman phrase,
which signifies, not a peculiar favor granted to any one, but a
peculiar inconvenience imposed), yet only under circumstances solemn
and well defined, with full notice and discussion beforehand, and
by the positive secret vote of a large proportion of the citizens.
“No law shall be made against any single citizen, without the same
being made against _all_ Athenian citizens; unless it shall so seem
good to six thousand citizens voting secretly.”[276] Such was that
general principle of the constitution, under which the ostracism
was a particular case. Before the vote of ostracism could be taken,
a case was to be made out in the senate and the public assembly
to justify it. In the sixth prytany of the year, these two bodies
debated and determined whether the state of the republic was menacing
enough to call for such an exceptional measure.[277] If they decided
in the affirmative, a day was named, the agora was railed round, with
ten entrances left for the citizens of each tribe, and ten separate
casks or vessels for depositing the suffrages, which consisted of a
shell, or a potsherd, with the name of the person written on it whom
each citizen designed to banish. At the end of the day, the number
of votes was summed up, and if six thousand votes were found to have
been given against any one person, that person was ostracized; if
not, the ceremony ended in nothing.[278] Ten days were allowed to
him for settling his affairs, after which he was required to depart
from Attica for ten years, but retained his property, and suffered no
other penalty.
[276] Andokidês, De Mysteriis, p. 12, c. 13. Μηδὲ νόμον ἐπ᾽ ἀνδρὶ
ἐξεῖναι θεῖναι, ἐὰν μὴ τὸν αὐτὸν ἐπὶ πᾶσιν Ἀθηναίοις· ἐὰν μὴ
ἑξακισχιλίοις δόξῃ, κρυβδὴν ψηφιζομένοις. According to the usual
looseness in dealing with the name of Solon, this has been called
a law of Solon (see Petit. Leg. Att. p. 188), though it certainly
cannot be older than Kleisthenês.
“Privilegia ne irroganto,” said the law of the Twelve Tables at
Rome (Cicero, Legg. iii, 4-19).
[277] Aristotle and Philochorus, ap. Photium, App. p. 672 and
675, ed. Porson.
It would rather appear by that passage that the ostracism was
never formally abrogated; and that even in the later times, to
which the description of Aristotle refers, the form was still
preserved of putting the question whether the public safety
called for an ostracizing vote, long after it had passed both out
of use and out of mind.
[278] Philochorus, _ut supra_; Plutarch, Aristeid. c. 7; Schol.
ad Aristophan. Equit. 851; Pollux, viii, 19.
There is a difference of opinion among the authorities, as well
as among the expositors, whether the minimum of six thousand
applies to the votes given in all, or to the votes given against
any one name. I embrace the latter opinion, which is supported
by Philochorus, Pollux, and the Schol. on Aristophanês, though
Plutarch countenances the former. Boeckh, in his Public Economy
of Athens, and Wachsmuth, (i, 1, p. 272) are in favor of Plutarch
and the former opinion; Paradys (Dissertat. De Ostr. p. 25),
Platner, and Hermann (see K. F. Hermann, Lehrbuch der Gr.
Staatsalt. ch. 130, not. 6) support the other, which appears to
me the right one.
For the purpose, so unequivocally pronounced, of the general law
determining the absolute minimum necessary for a _privilegium_,
would by no means be obtained, if the simple majority of votes,
among six thousand voters in all, had been allowed to take
effect. A person might then be ostracized with a very small
number of votes against him, and without creating any reasonable
presumption that he was dangerous to the constitution; which
was by no means either the purpose of Kleisthenês, or the
well-understood operation of the ostracism, so long as it
continued to be a reality.
It was not the maxim at Athens to escape the errors of the people,
by calling in the different errors, and the sinister interest
besides, of an extra-popular or privileged few; nor was any third
course open, since the principles of representative government were
not understood, nor indeed conveniently applicable to very small
communities. Beyond the judgment of the people—so the Athenians
felt—there was no appeal; and their grand study was to surround the
delivery of that judgment with the best securities for rectitude and
the best preservatives against haste, passion, or private corruption.
Whatever measure of good government could not be obtained in that
way, could not, in their opinion, be obtained at all. I shall
illustrate the Athenian proceedings on this head more fully when I
come to speak of the working of their mature democracy: meanwhile,
in respect to this grand protection of the nascent democracy,—the
vote of ostracism,—it will be found that the securities devised by
Kleisthenês, for making the sentence effectual against the really
dangerous man, and against no one else, display not less foresight
than patriotism. The main object was, to render the voting an
expression of deliberate public feeling, as distinguished from mere
factious antipathy: the large minimum of votes required, one-fourth
of the entire citizen population, went far to insure this effect,—the
more so, since each vote, taken as it was in a secret manner,
counted unequivocally for the expression of a genuine and independent
sentiment, and could neither be coerced nor bought. Then again,
Kleisthenês did not permit the process of ostracizing to be opened
against any one citizen exclusively. If opened at all, every one
without exception was exposed to the sentence; so that the friends of
Themistoklês could not invoke it against Aristeidês,[279] nor those
of the latter against the former, without exposing their own leader
to the same chance of exile. It was not likely to be invoked at all,
therefore, until exasperation had proceeded so far as to render
both parties insensible to this chance,—the precise index of that
growing internecive hostility, which the ostracism prevented from
coming to a head. Nor could it even then be ratified, unless a case
was shown to convince the more neutral portion of the senate and the
ekklesia: moreover, after all, the ekklesia did not itself ostracize,
but a future day was named, and the whole body of the citizens were
solemnly invited to vote. It was in this way that security was
taken not only for making the ostracism effectual in protecting
the constitution, but to hinder it from being employed for any
other purpose. And we must recollect that it exercised its tutelary
influence, not merely on those occasions when it was actually
employed, but by the mere knowledge that it might be employed, and by
the restraining effect which that knowledge produced on the conduct
of the great men. Again, the ostracism, though essentially of an
exceptional nature, was yet an exception sanctified and limited
by the constitution itself; so that the citizen, in giving his
ostracizing vote, did not in any way depart from the constitution
or lose his reverence for it. The issue placed before him—“Is there
any man whom you think vitally dangerous to the state? if so,
whom?”—though vague, was yet raised directly and legally. Had there
been no ostracism, it might probably have been raised both indirectly
and illegally, on the occasion of some special imputed crime of a
suspected political leader, when accused before a court of justice,
—a perversion, involving all the mischief of the ostracism, without
its protective benefits.
[279] The practical working of the ostracism presents it as a
struggle between two contending leaders, accompanied with chance
of banishment to both—Periklês πρὸς τὸν Θουκυδίδην εἰς ἀγῶνα περὶ
τοῦ ὀστράκου καταστὰς, καὶ διακινδυνεύσας, ἐκεῖνον μὲν ἐξέβαλε,
κατέλυσε δὲ τὴν ἀντιτεταγμένην ἑταιρείαν (Plutarch, Periklês, c.
14; compare Plutarch, Nikias, c. 11).
Care was taken to divest the ostracism of all painful consequence
except what was inseparable from exile; and this is not one of the
least proofs of the wisdom with which it was devised. Most certainly,
it never deprived the public of candidates for political influence:
and when we consider the small amount of individual evil which it
inflicted,—evil too diminished, in the cases of Kimon and Aristeidês,
by a reactionary sentiment which augmented their subsequent
popularity after return,—two remarks will be quite sufficient to
offer in the way of justification. First, it completely produced its
intended effect; for the democracy grew up from infancy to manhood
without a single attempt to overthrow it by force,[280]—a result,
upon which no reflecting contemporary of Kleisthenês could have
ventured to calculate. Next, through such tranquil working of the
democratical forms, a constitutional morality quite sufficiently
complete was produced among the leading Athenians, to enable the
people after a certain time to dispense with that exceptional
security which the ostracism offered.[281] To the nascent democracy,
it was absolutely indispensable; to the growing yet militant
democracy, it was salutary; but the full-grown democracy both could
and did stand without it. The ostracism passed upon Hyperbolus,
about ninety years after Kleisthenês, was the last occasion of its
employment. And even this can hardly be considered as a serious
instance: it was a trick concerted between two distinguished
Athenians (Nikias and Alkibiadês), to turn to their own political
account a process already coming to be antiquated. Nor would
such a manœuvre have been possible, if the contemporary Athenian
citizens had been penetrated with the same, serious feeling of the
value of ostracism as a safeguard of democracy, as had been once
entertained by their fathers and grandfathers. Between Kleisthenês
and Hyperbolus, we hear of about ten different persons as having
been banished by ostracism. First of all, Hipparchus of the deme
Cholargus, the son of Charmus, a relative of the recently-expelled
Peisistratid despots;[282] then Aristeidês, Themistoklês, Kimon, and
Thucydidês son of Melêsias, all of them renowned political leaders;
also Alkibiadês and Megaklês (the paternal and maternal grandfathers
of the distinguished Alkibiadês), and Kallias, belonging to another
eminent family at Athens;[283] lastly, Damôn, the preceptor of
Periklês in poetry and music, and eminent for his acquisitions in
philosophy.[284] In this last case comes out the vulgar side of
humanity, aristocratical as well as democratical; for with both, the
process of philosophy and the persons of philosophers are wont to
be alike unpopular. Even Kleisthenês himself is said to have been
ostracized under his own law, and Xanthippus; but both upon authority
too weak to trust.[285] Miltiadês was not ostracized at all, but
tried and punished for misconduct in his command.
[280] It is not necessary in this remark to take notice, either
of the oligarchy of Four Hundred, or that of Thirty, called the
Thirty Tyrants, established during the closing years of the
Peloponnesian war, and after the ostracism had been discontinued.
Neither of these changes were brought about by the excessive
ascendency of any one or few men: both of them grew out of the
embarrassments and dangers of Athens in the latter period of her
great foreign war.
[281] Aristotle (Polit. iii, 8, 6) seems to recognize the
political necessity of the ostracism, as applied even to obvious
superiority of wealth, connection, etc. (which he distinguishes
pointedly from superiority of merit and character), and upon
principles of symmetry only, even apart from dangerous designs
on the part of the superior mind. No painter, he observes, will
permit a foot, in his picture of a man, to be of disproportionate
size with the entire body, though separately taken it may be
finely painted; nor will the chorus-master allow any one voice,
however beautiful, to predominate beyond a certain proportion
over the rest.
His final conclusion is, however, that the legislator ought, if
possible, so to construct his constitution, as to have no need of
such exceptional remedy; but, if this cannot be done, then the
second-best step is to apply the ostracism. Compare also v, 2, 5.
The last century of the free Athenian democracy realized the
first of these alternatives.
[282] Plutarch, Nikias, c. 11: Harpokration. v. Ἵππαρχος.
[283] Lysias cont. Alkibiad. A. c. 11, p. 143: Harpokration. v.
Ἀλκιβιάδης; Andokidês cont. Alkibiad. c. 11-12, pp. 129, 130:
this last oration may afford evidence as to the facts mentioned
in it, though I cannot imagine it to be either genuine, or
belonging to the time to which it professes to refer, as has been
observed in a previous note.
[284] Plutarch, Periklês. c. 4; Plutarch. Aristeid. c. 1.
[285] Ælian, V. H. xiii, 24; Herakleidês, περὶ Πολιτειῶν, c. 1,
ed. Köhler.
I should hardly have said so much about this memorable and peculiar
institution of Kleisthenês, if the erroneous accusations against the
Athenian democracy,—of envy, injustice, and ill-treatment of their
superior men, had not been greatly founded upon it, and if such
criticisms had not passed from ancient times to modern with little
examination. In monarchical governments, a pretender to the throne,
numbering a certain amount of supporters, is, as a matter of course,
excluded from the country. The duke of Bordeaux cannot now reside in
France,—nor could Napoleon after 1815,—nor Charles Edward in England
during the last century. No man treats this as any extravagant
injustice, yet it is the parallel of the ostracism,—with a stronger
case in favor of the latter, inasmuch as the change from one regal
dynasty to another does not of necessity overthrow all the collateral
institutions and securities of the country. Plutarch has affirmed
that the ostracism arose from the envy and jealousy inherent in a
democracy,[286] and not from justifiable fears,—an observation often
repeated, yet not the less demonstrably untrue. Not merely because
ostracism so worked as often to increase the influence of that
political leader whose rival it removed,—but still more, because,
if the fact had been as Plutarch says, this institution would have
continued as long as the democracy; whereas it finished with the
banishment of Hyperbolus, at a period when the government was more
decisively democratical than it had been in the time of Kleisthenês.
It was, in truth, a product altogether of fear and insecurity,[287]
on the part both of the democracy and its best friends,—fear
perfectly well-grounded, and only appearing needless because the
precautions taken prevented attack. So soon as the diffusion of a
constitutional morality had placed the mass of the citizens above all
serious fear of an aggressive usurper the ostracism was discontinued.
And doubtless the feeling, that it might safely be dispensed with,
must have been strengthened by the long ascendency of Periklês,—by
the spectacle of the greatest statesman whom Athens ever produced,
acting steadily within the limits of the constitution; as well as by
the ill-success of his two opponents, Kimon and Thucydidês,—aided by
numerous partisans and by the great comic writers, at a period when
comedy was a power in the state such as it has never been before
or since,—in their attempts to get him ostracized. They succeeded
in fanning up the ordinary antipathy of the citizens towards
philosophers, so far as to procure the ostracism of his friend and
teacher Damôn: but Periklês himself, to repeat the complaint of his
bitter enemy, the comic poet Kratinus,[288] “was out of the reach of
the oyster-shell.” If Periklês was not conceived to be dangerous to
the constitution, none of his successors were at all likely to be so
regarded. Damôn and Hyperbolus were the two last persons ostracized:
both of them were cases, and the only cases, of an unequivocal abuse
of the institution, because, whatever the grounds of displeasure
against them may have been, it is impossible to conceive either
of them as menacing to the state,—whereas all the other known
sufferers were men of such position and power, that the six or
eight thousand citizens who inscribed each name on the shell, or at
least a large proportion of them, may well have done so under the
most conscientious belief that they were guarding the constitution
against real danger. Such a change, in the character of the persons
ostracized, plainly evinces that the ostracism had become dissevered
from that genuine patriotic prudence which originally rendered it
both legitimate and popular. It had served for two generations an
inestimable tutelary purpose,—it lived to be twice dishonored,—and
then passed, by universal acquiescence, into matter of history.
[286] Plutarch, Themistoklês, 22; Plutarch, Aristeidês, 7,
παραμυθία φθόνου καὶ κουφισμός. See the same opinions repeated by
Wachsmuth, Hellenische Alterthumskunde, ch. 48, vol. i, p. 272,
and by Platner, Prozess and Klagen bey den Attikern, vol. i, p.
386.
[287] Thucyd. viii, 73, διὰ δυνάμεως καὶ ἀξιώματος φόβον.
[288] Kratinus ap. Plutarch, Periklês, 13.
Ὁ σχινοκέφαλος Ζεὺς ὁδὶ προσέρχεται
Περικλέης, τᾠδεῖον ἐπὶ τοῦ κρανíου
Ἔχων, ἐπειδὴ τοὔστρακον παροίχεται.
For the attacks of the comic writers upon Damôn, see Plutarch,
Periklês, c. 4.
A process analogous to the ostracism subsisted at Argos,[289] at
Syracuse, and in some other Grecian democracies. Aristotle states
that it was abused for factious purposes: and at Syracuse, where it
was introduced after the expulsion of the Gelonian dynasty, Diodorus
affirms that it was so unjustly and profusely applied, as to deter
persons of wealth and station from taking any part in public affairs;
for which reason it was speedily discontinued. We have no particulars
to enable us to appreciate this general statement. But we cannot
safely infer that because the ostracism worked on the whole well at
Athens, it must necessarily have worked well in other states,—the
more so, as we do not know whether it was surrounded with the same
precautionary formalities, nor whether it even required the same
large minimum of votes to make it effective. This latter guarantee,
so valuable in regard to an institution essentially easy to abuse, is
not noticed by Diodorus in his brief account of the Petalism,—so the
process was denominated at Syracuse.[290]
[289] Aristot. Polit. iii, 8, 4; v, 2, 5.
[290] Diodor. xi, 55-87. This author describes very imperfectly
the Athenian ostracism, transferring to it apparently the
circumstances of the Syracusan Petalism.
Such was the first Athenian democracy, engendered as well by the
reaction against Hippias and his dynasty as by the memorable
partnership, whether spontaneous or compulsory, between Kleisthenês
and the unfranchised multitude. It is to be distinguished, both
from the mitigated oligarchy established by Solon before, and from
the full-grown and symmetrical democracy which prevailed afterwards
from the beginning of the Peloponnesian war towards the close of the
career of Periklês. It was, indeed, a striking revolution, impressed
upon the citizen not less by the sentiments to which it appealed
than by the visible change which it made in political and social
life. He saw himself marshalled in the ranks of hoplites, alongside
of new companions in arms,—he was enrolled in a new register, and
his property in a new schedule, in his deme and by his demarch, an
officer before unknown,—he found the year distributed afresh, for
all legal purposes, into ten parts bearing the name of prytanies,
each marked by a solemn and free-spoken ekklesia, at which he had
a right to be present,—that ekklesia was convoked and presided by
senators called prytanes, members of a senate novel both as to
number and distribution,—his political duties were now performed as
member of a tribe, designated by a name not before pronounced in
common Attic life, connected with one of ten heroes whose statues
he now for the first time saw in the agora, and associating him
with fellow-tribemen from all parts of Attica. All these and many
others were sensible novelties, felt in the daily proceedings of the
citizen. But the great novelty of all was, the authentic recognition
of the ten new tribes as a sovereign dêmos, or people, apart from
all specialties of phratric or gentile origin, with free speech and
equal law; retaining no distinction except the four classes of the
Solonian property-schedule with their gradations of eligibility. To
a considerable proportion of citizens this great novelty was still
farther endeared by the fact that it had raised them out of the
degraded position of metics and slaves; and to the large majority of
all the citizens, it furnished a splendid political idea, profoundly
impressive to the Greek mind,—capable of calling forth the most
ardent attachment as well as the most devoted sense of active
obligation and obedience. We have now to see how their newly-created
patriotism manifested itself.
Kleisthenês and his new constitution carried with them so completely
the popular favor, that Isagoras had no other way of opposing
it except by calling in the interference of Kleomenês and the
Lacedæmonians. Kleomenês listened the more readily to this call, as
he was reported to have been on an intimate footing with the wife
of Isagoras. He prepared to come to Athens; but his first aim was
to deprive the democracy of its great leader Kleisthenês, who, as
belonging to the Alkmæônid family, was supposed to be tainted with
the inherited sin of his great-grandfather Megaklês, the destroyer
of the usurper Kylôn. Kleomenês sent a herald to Athens, demanding
the expulsion “of the accursed,”—so this family were called by their
enemies, and so they continued to be called eighty years afterwards,
when the same manœuvre was practised by the Lacedæmonians of that
day against Periklês. This requisition had been recommended by
Isagoras, and was so well-timed that Kleisthenês, not venturing to
disobey it, retired voluntarily, so that Kleomenês, though arriving
at Athens only with a small force, found himself master of the city.
At the instigation of Isagoras, he sent into exile seven hundred
families, selected from the chief partisans of Kleisthenês: his next
attempt was to dissolve the new Senate of Five Hundred and place
the whole government in the hands of three hundred adherents of the
chief whose cause he espoused. But now was seen the spirit infused
into the people by their new constitution. At the time of the first
usurpation of Peisistratus, the Senate of that day had not only not
resisted, but even lent themselves to the scheme. But the new Senate
of Kleisthenês resolutely refused to submit to dissolution, and the
citizens manifested themselves in a way at once so hostile and so
determined, that Kleomenês and Isagoras were altogether baffled.
They were compelled to retire into the acropolis and stand upon the
defensive; and this symptom of weakness was the signal for a general
rising of the Athenians, who besieged the Spartan king on the holy
rock. He had evidently come without any expectation of finding, or
any means of overpowering, resistance; for at the end of two days his
provisions were exhausted, and he was forced to capitulate. He and
his Lacedæmonians, as well as Isagoras, were allowed to retire to
Sparta; but the Athenians of the party captured along with him were
imprisoned, condemned,[291] and executed by the people.
[291] Herodot. v, 70-72; compare Schol. ad Aristophan. Lysistr.
274.
Kleisthenês, with the seven hundred exiled families, was immediately
recalled, and his new constitution materially strengthened by this
first success. Yet the prospect of renewed Spartan attack was
sufficiently serious to induce him to send envoys to Artaphernês, the
Persian satrap at Sardis, soliciting the admission of Athens into the
Persian alliance: he probably feared the intrigues of the expelled
Hippias in the same quarter. Artaphernês, having first informed
himself who the Athenians were, and where they dwelt,—replied that,
if they chose to send earth and water to the king of Persia, they
might be received as allies, but upon no other condition. Such were
the feelings of alarm under which the envoys had quitted Athens,
that they went the length of promising this unqualified token of
submission. But their countrymen, on their return, disavowed them
with scorn and indignation.[292]
[292] Herodot. v, 73.
It was at this time that the first connection began between Athens
and the little Bœotian town of Platæa, situated on the northern
slope of the range of Kithæron, between that mountain and the river
Asôpus,—on the road from Athens to Thebes; and it is upon this
first occasion that we become acquainted with the Bœotians and
their polities. In one of my preceding volumes,[293] the Bœotian
federation has already been briefly described, as composed of some
twelve or thirteen autonomous towns under the headship of Thebes,
which was, or professed to have been, their mother-city. Platæa had
been, so the Thebans affirmed, their latest foundation;[294] it was
ill-used by them, and discontented with the alliance. Accordingly,
as Kleomenês was on his way back from Athens, the Platæans took the
opportunity of addressing themselves to him, craved the protection
of Sparta against Thebes, and surrendered their town and territory
without reserve. The Spartan king, having no motive to undertake a
trust which promised nothing but trouble, advised them to solicit
the protection of Athens, as nearer and more accessible for them in
case of need. He foresaw that this would embroil the Athenians with
Bœotia; and such anticipation was in fact his chief motive for giving
the advice, which the Platæans followed. Selecting an occasion of
public sacrifice at Athens, they dispatched thither envoys, who sat
down as suppliants at the altar, surrendered their town to Athens,
and implored protection against Thebes. Such an appeal was not to be
resisted, and protection was promised; it was soon needed, for the
Thebans invaded the Platæan territory, and an Athenian force marched
to defend it. Battle was about to be joined, when the Corinthians
interposed with their mediation, which was accepted by both parties.
They decided altogether in favor of Platæa, pronouncing that the
Thebans had no right to employ force against any seceding member of
the Bœotian federation.[295] But the Thebans, finding the decision
against them, refused to abide by it, and, attacking the Athenians on
their return, sustained a complete defeat: the latter avenged this
breach of faith by joining to Platæa the portion of Theban territory
south of the Asôpus, and making that river the limit between the
two. By such success, however, the Athenians gained nothing, except
the enmity of Bœotia,—as Kleomenês had foreseen. Their alliance with
Platæa, long continued, and presenting in the course of this history
several incidents touching to our sympathies, will be found, if we
except one splendid occasion,[296] productive only of burden to the
one party, yet insufficient as a protection to the other.
[293] See vol. ii, p. 295, part ii, ch. 3.
[294] Thucyd. iii, 61.
[295] Herodot. vi, 108. ἐᾷν Θηβαίους Βοιωτῶν τοὺς μὴ βουλομένους
ἐς Βοιωτοὺς τελέειν. This is an important circumstance in regard
to Grecian political feeling: I shall advert to it hereafter.
[296] Herodot. vi, 108. Thucydidês (iii, 58), when recounting
the capture of Platæa by the Lacedæmonians in the third year of
the Peloponnesian war, states that the alliance between Platæa
and Athens was then in its 93rd year of date; according to which
reckoning it would begin in the year 519 B. C., where Mr. Clinton
and other chronologers place it.
I venture to think that the immediate circumstances, as recounted
in the text from Herodotus (whether Thucydidês conceived them
in the same way, cannot be determined), which brought about the
junction of Platæa with Athens, cannot have taken place in 519 B.
C., but must have happened _after_ the expulsion of Hippias from
Athens in 510 B. C.,—for the following reasons:—
1. No mention is made of Hippias, who yet, if the event had
happened in 519 B. C., must have been the person to determine
whether the Athenians should assist Platæa or not. The Platæan
envoys present themselves at a public sacrifice in the attitude
of suppliants, so as to touch the feelings of the Athenian
citizens generally: had Hippias been then despot, _he_ would have
been the person to be propitiated and to determine for or against
assistance.
2. We know no cause which should have brought Kleomenês with a
Lacedæmonian force near to Platæa in the year 519 B. C.: we know
from the statement of Herodotus (v, 76) that no Lacedæmonian
expedition against Attica took place at that time. But in the
year to which I have referred the event, Kleomenês is on his
march near the spot upon a known and assignable object. From the
very tenor of the narrative, it is plain that Kleomenês and his
army were not designedly in Bœotia, nor meddling with Bœotian
affairs, at the time when the Platæans solicited his aid; he
declines to interpose in the matter, pleading the great distance
between Sparta and Platæa as a reason.
3. Again, Kleomenês, in advising the Platæans to solicit
Athens, does not give the advice through good-will towards
them, but through a desire to harass and perplex the Athenians,
by entangling them in a quarrel with the Bœotians. At the
point of time to which I have referred the incident, this was
a very natural desire: he was angry, and perhaps alarmed, at
the recent events which had brought about his expulsion from
Athens. But what was there to make him conceive such a feeling
against Athens during the reign of Hippias? That despot was on
terms of the closest intimacy with Sparta: the Peisistratids
were (ξείνους—ξεινίους ταμάλιστα—Herod. v, 63, 90, 91) “the
particular guests” of the Spartans, who were only induced to
take part against Hippias from a reluctant obedience to the
oracles procured, one after another, by Kleisthenês. The motive,
therefore, assigned by Herodotus, for the advice given by
Kleomenês to the Platæans, can have no application to the time
when Hippias was still despot.
4. That Herodotus did not conceive the victory gained by the
Athenians over Thebes as having taken place _before_ the
expulsion of Hippias, is evident from his emphatic contrast
between their warlike spirit and success when liberated from the
despots, and their timidity or backwardness while under Hippias
(Ἀθηναῖοι τυραννευόμενοι μὲν, οὐδαμῶν τῶν σφέας περιοικεόντων
ἔσαν τὰ πολέμια ἀμείνους, ἀπαλλαχθέντες δὲ τυράννων, μακρῷ πρῶτοι
ἐγένοντο· δηλοῖ ὦν ταῦτα, ὅτι κατεχόμενοι μὲν, ἐθελοκάκεον,
etc. v, 78). The man who wrote thus cannot have believed that,
in the year 519 B. C., while Hippias was in full sway, the
Athenians gained an important victory over the Thebans, cut off
a considerable portion of the Theban territory for the purpose
of joining it to that of the Platæans, and showed from that time
forward their constant superiority over Thebes by protecting her
inferior neighbor against her.
These different reasons, taking them altogether, appear to me
to show that the first alliance between Athens and Platæa, as
Herodotus conceives and describes it, cannot have taken place
before the expulsion of Hippias, in 510 B. C.; and induce me to
believe, either that Thucydidês was mistaken in the date of that
event, or that Herodotus has not correctly described the facts.
Not seeing any reason to suspect the description given by the
latter, I have departed, though unwillingly, from the date of
Thucydidês.
The application of the Platæans to Kleomenês, and his advice
grounded thereupon, may be connected more suitably with his first
expedition to Athens, after the expulsion of Hippias, than with
his second.
Meanwhile Kleomenês had returned to Sparta full of resentment
against the Athenians, and resolved on punishing them, as well as on
establishing his friend Isagoras as despot over them. Having been
taught, however, by humiliating experience, that this was no easy
achievement, he would not make the attempt, without having assembled
a considerable force; he summoned allies from all the various states
of Peloponnesus, yet without venturing to inform them what he was
about to undertake. He at the same time concerted measures with the
Bœotians, and with the Chalkidians of Eubœa, for a simultaneous
invasion of Attica on all sides. It appears that he had greater
confidence in their hostile dispositions towards Athens than in those
of the Peloponnesians, for he was not afraid to acquaint them with
his design,—and probably the Bœotians were incensed with the recent
interference of Athens in the affair of Platæa. As soon as these
preparations were completed, the two kings of Sparta, Kleomenês and
Demaratus, put themselves at the head of the united Peloponnesian
force, marched into Attica, and advanced as far as Eleusis on the way
to Athens. But when the allies came to know the purpose for which
they were to be employed, a spirit of dissatisfaction manifested
itself among them. They had no unfriendly sentiment towards Athens;
and the Corinthians especially, favorably disposed rather than
otherwise towards that city, resolved to proceed no farther, withdrew
their contingent from the camp, and returned home. At the same time,
king Demaratus, either sharing in the general dissatisfaction, or
moved by some grudge against his colleague which had not before
manifested itself, renounced the undertaking also. And these two
examples, operating upon the preëxisting sentiment of the allies
generally, caused the whole camp to break up and return home without
striking a blow.[297]
[297] Herodot. v, 75.
We may here remark that this is the first instance known in
which Sparta appears in act as recognized head of an obligatory
Peloponnesian alliance,[298] summoning contingents from the cities
to be placed under the command of her king. Her headship, previously
recognized in theory, passes now into act, but in an unsatisfactory
manner, so as to prove the necessity of precaution and concert
beforehand,—which will be found not long wanting.
[298] Compare Kortüm, Zur Geschichte Hellenischer
Staats-Verfassungen, p. 35 (Heidelberg, 1821).
I doubt, however, his interpretation of the words in Herodotus
(v, 63)—εἴτε ἰδίῳ στόλῳ, εἴτε δημοσίῳ χρησόμενοι.
Pursuant to the scheme concerted, the Bœotians and Chalkidians
attacked Attica at the same time that Kleomenês entered it. The
former seized Œnoê and Hysiæ, the frontier demes of Attica on the
side towards Platæa, while the latter assailed the north-eastern
frontier, which faces Eubœa. Invaded on three sides, the Athenians
were in serious danger, and were compelled to concentrate all their
forces at Eleusis against Kleomenês, leaving the Bœotians and
Chalkidians unopposed. But the unexpected breaking up of the invading
army from Peloponnesus proved their rescue, and enabled them to turn
the whole of their attention to the other frontier. They marched into
Bœotia to the strait called Euripus, which separates it from Eubœa,
intending to prevent the junction of the Bœotians and Chalkidians,
and to attack the latter first apart. But the arrival of the Bœotians
caused an alteration in their scheme; they attacked the Bœotians
first, and gained a victory of the most complete character,—killing
a large number, and capturing seven hundred prisoners. On the very
same day they crossed over to Eubœa, attacked the Chalkidians, and
gained another victory so decisive that it at once terminated the
war. Many Chalkidians were taken, as well as Bœotians, and conveyed
in chains to Athens, where after a certain detention they were at
last ransomed for two minæ per man; and the tenth of the sum thus
raised was employed in the fabrication of a chariot and four horses
in bronze, which was placed in the acropolis to commemorate the
victory. Herodotus saw this trophy when he was at Athens. He saw
too, what was a still more speaking trophy, the actual chains in
which the prisoners had been fettered, exhibiting in their appearance
the damage undergone when the acropolis was burnt by Xerxês: an
inscription of four lines described the offerings and recorded the
victory out of which they had sprung.[299]
[299] Herodot. v, 77; Ælian, V. H. vi, 1; Pausan. i, 28, 2.
Another consequence of some moment arose out of this victory. The
Athenians planted a body of four thousand of their citizens as
klêruchs (lot-holders) or settlers upon the lands of the wealthy
Chalkidian oligarchy called the Hippobotæ,—proprietors probably in
the fertile plain of Lêlantum, between Chalkis and Eretria. This is
a system which we shall find hereafter extensively followed out by
the Athenians in the days of their power; partly with the view of
providing for their poorer citizens,—partly to serve as garrison
among a population either hostile or of doubtful fidelity. These
Attic klêruchs (I can find no other name by which to speak of them)
did not lose their birthright as Athenian citizens: they were not
colonists in the Grecian sense, and they are known by a totally
different name,—but they corresponded very nearly to the colonies
formally planted out on the conquered lands by Rome. The increase
of the poorer population was always more or less painfully felt in
every Grecian city. For though the aggregate population never seems
to have increased very fast, yet the multiplication of children in
poor families caused the subdivision of the smaller lots of land,
until at last they became insufficient for a maintenance; and the
persons thus impoverished found it difficult to obtain subsistence
in other ways, more especially as the labor for the richer classes
was so much performed by imported slaves. Doubtless some families
possessed of landed property became extinct; but this did not at
all benefit the smaller and poorer proprietors; for the lands thus
rendered vacant passed, not to them, but by inheritance, or bequest,
or intermarriage, to other proprietors, for the most part in easy
circumstances,—since one opulent family usually intermarried with
another. I shall enter more fully at a future opportunity into this
question,—the great and serious problem of population, as it affected
the Greek communities generally, and as it was dealt with in theory
by the powerful minds of Plato and Aristotle. At present it is
sufficient to notice that the numerous klêruchies sent out by Athens,
of which this to Eubœa was the first, arose in a great measure out of
the multiplication of the poorer population, which her extended power
was employed in providing for. Her subsequent proceedings with a view
to the same object will not be always found so justifiable as this
now before us, which grew naturally, according to the ideas of the
time, out of her success against the Chalkidians.
The war between Athens, however, and Thebes with her Bœotian allies,
still continued, to the great and repeated disadvantage of the
latter, until at length the Thebans in despair sent to ask advice of
the Delphian oracle, and were directed to “solicit aid from those
nearest to them.”[300] “How (they replied) are we to obey? Our
nearest neighbors, of Tanagra, Korôneia, and Thespiæ, are now, and
have been from the beginning, lending us all the aid in their power.”
An ingenious Theban, however, coming to the relief of his perplexed
fellow-citizens, dived into the depths of legend and brought up a
happy meaning. “Those nearest to us (he said) are the inhabitants of
Ægina: for Thêbê (the eponym of Thebes) and Ægina (the eponym of that
island) were both sisters, daughters of Asôpus: let us send to crave
assistance from the Æginetans.” If his subtle interpretation (founded
upon their descent from the same legendary progenitors) did not at
once convince all who heard it, at least no one had any better to
suggest; and envoys were at once sent to the Æginetans,—who, in reply
to a petition founded on legendary claims, sent to the help of the
Thebans a reinforcement of legendary, but venerated, auxiliaries,—the
Æakid heroes. We are left to suppose that their effigies are here
meant. It was in vain, however, that the glory and the supposed
presence of the Æakids Telamôn and Pêleus were introduced into the
Theban camp. Victory still continued on the side of Athens; and the
discouraged Thebans again sent to Ægina, restoring the heroes,[301]
and praying for aid of a character more human and positive. Their
request was granted, and the Æginetans commenced war against Athens
without even the decent preliminary of a herald and declaration.[302]
[300] Herodot. v, 80.
[301] In the expression of Herodotus, the Æakid heroes are
_really_ sent from Ægina, and _really_ sent back by the Thebans
(v, 80-81)—Οἱ δέ σφι αἰτέουσι ἐπικουρίην τοὺς Αἰακίδας συμπέμπειν
ἔφασαν, αὖτις οἱ Θηβαῖοι πέμψαντες, ~τοὺς μὲν Αἰακίδας σφι
ἀπεδίδοσαν, τῶν δὲ ἀνδρῶν ἐδέοντο~. Compare again v, 75; viii,
64; and Polyb. vii, 9, 2. θεῶν τῶν συστρατευομένων.
Justin gives a narrative of an analogous application from the
Epizephyrian Lokrians to Sparta (xx, 3): “Territi Locrenses
ad Spartanos decurrunt: auxilium supplices deprecantur: illi
longinquâ militiâ gravati, auxilium a Castore et Polluce petere
eos jubent. Neque legati responsum sociæ urbis spreverunt;
profectique in proximum templum, facto sacrificio, auxilium
deorum implorant. Litatis hostiis, _obtentoque, ut rebantur,
quod petebant—haud secus læti quam si deos ipsos secum avecturi
essent_—pulvinaria iis in navi componunt, faustisque profecti
ominibus, _solatia suis pro auxiliis_ deportant.” In comparing
the expressions of Herodotus with those of Justin, we see that
the former believes the direct literal presence and action of the
Æakid heroes (“the Thebans sent back the heroes, and asked for
men”), while the latter explains away the divine intervention
into a mere fancy and feeling on the part of those to whom it is
supposed to be accorded. This was the tone of those later authors
whom Justin followed: compare also Pausan. iii, 19, 2.
[302] Herodot. v, 81-82.
This remarkable embassy first brings us into acquaintance with the
Dorians of Ægina,—oligarchical, wealthy, commercial, and powerful
at sea, even in the earliest days; more analogous to Corinth than
to any of the other cities called Dorian. The hostility which they
now began without provocation against Athens,—repressed by Sparta at
the critical moment of the battle of Marathon,—then again breaking
out,—and hushed for a while by the common dangers of the Persian
invasion under Xerxês, was appeased only with the conquest of the
island about twenty years after that event, and with the expulsion
and destruction of its inhabitants some years later. There had been
indeed, according to Herodotus,[303] a feud of great antiquity
between Athens and Ægina,—of which he gives the account in a singular
narrative, blending together religion, politics, exposition of
ancient customs, etc.; but at the time when the Thebans solicited
aid from Ægina, the latter was at peace with Athens. The Æginetans
employed their fleet, powerful for that day, in ravaging Phalêrum
and the maritime demes of Attica; nor had the Athenians as yet any
fleet to resist them.[304] It is probable that the desired effect was
produced, of diverting a portion of the Athenian force from the war
against Bœotia, and thus partially relieving Thebes. But the war of
Athens against both of them continued for a considerable time, though
we have no information respecting its details.
[303] Herodot. v, 83-88.
[304] Herodot. v, 81-89. μεγάλως Ἀθηναίους ἐσινέοντο.
Meanwhile the attention of Athens was called off from these combined
enemies by a more menacing cloud, which threatened to burst upon
her from the side of Sparta. Kleomenês and his countrymen, full of
resentment at the late inglorious desertion of Eleusis, were yet
more incensed by the discovery, which appears to have been then
recently made, that the injunctions of the Delphian priestess for the
expulsion of Hippias from Athens had been fraudulently procured.[305]
Moreover, Kleomenês, when shut up in the acropolis of Athens with
Isagoras, had found there various prophecies previously treasured
up by the Peisistratids, many of which foreshadowed events highly
disastrous to Sparta. And while the recent brilliant manifestations
of courage, and repeated victories, on the part of Athens, seemed to
indicate that such prophecies might perhaps be realized,—Sparta had
to reproach herself, that, from the foolish and mischievous conduct
of Kleomenês, she had undone the effect of her previous aid against
the Peisistratids, and thus lost that return of gratitude which the
Athenians would otherwise have testified. Under such impressions, the
Spartan authorities took the remarkable step of sending for Hippias
from his residence at Sigeium to Peloponnesus, and of summoning
deputies from all their allies to meet him at Sparta.
[305] Herodot. v, 90.
The convocation thus summoned deserves notice as the commencement
of a new era in Grecian politics. The previous expedition of
Kleomenês against Attica presents to us the first known example
of Spartan headship passing from theory into act: that expedition
miscarried because the allies, though willing to follow, would
not follow blindly, nor be made the instruments of executing
purposes repugnant to their feelings. Sparta had now learned the
necessity, in order to insure their hearty concurrence, of letting
them know what she contemplated, so as to ascertain at least
that she had no decided opposition to apprehend. Here, then, is
the third stage in the spontaneous movement of Greece towards a
systematic conjunction, however imperfect, of its many autonomous
units. First we have Spartan headship suggested in theory, from a
concourse of circumstances which attract to her the admiration of
all Greece,—power, unrivalled training, undisturbed antiquity, etc.:
next, the theory passes into act, yet rude and shapeless: lastly, the
act becomes clothed with formalities, and preceded by discussion and
determination. The first convocation of the allies at Sparta, for the
purpose of having a common object submitted to their consideration,
may well be regarded as an important event in Grecian political
history. The proceedings at the convocation are no less important,
as an indication of the way in which the Greeks of that day felt and
acted, and must be borne in mind as a contrast with times hereafter
to be described.
Hippias having been presented to the assembled allies, the Spartans
expressed their sorrow for having dethroned him,—their resentment
and alarm at the new-born insolence of Athens,[306] already tasted
by her immediate neighbors, and menacing to every state represented
in the convocation,—and their anxiety to restore Hippias, not less
as a reparation for past wrong, than as a means, through his rule,
of keeping Athens low and dependent. But the proposition, though
emanating from Sparta, was listened to by the allies with one common
sentiment of repugnance. They had no sympathy for Hippias,—no
dislike, still less any fear, of Athens,—and a profound detestation
of the character of a despot. The spirit which had animated the armed
contingents at Eleusis now reappeared among the deputies at Sparta,
and the Corinthians again took the initiative. Their deputy Sosiklês
protested against the project in the fiercest and most indignant
strain: no language can be stronger than that of the long harangue
which Herodotus puts into his mouth, wherein the bitter recollections
prevalent at Corinth respecting Kypselus and Periander are poured
forth. “Surely, heaven and earth are about to change places,—the fish
are coming to dwell on dry land, and mankind going to inhabit the
sea,—when you, Spartans, propose to subvert the popular governments,
and to set up in the cities that wicked and bloody thing called
a Despot.[307] First try what it is, for yourselves at Sparta,
and then force it upon others if you can: you have not tasted its
calamities as we have, and you take very good care to keep it away
from yourselves. We adjure you, by the common gods of Hellas,—plant
not despots in her cities: if you persist in a scheme so wicked, know
that the Corinthians will not second you.”
[306] Herodot. v, 90, 91.
[307] Herodot. v, 92. ... τυραννίδας ἐς τὰς πόλις κατάγειν
παρασκευάζεσθε, τοῦ οὔτε ἀδικώτερον ἐστὶ οὐδὲν κατ᾽ ἀνθρώπους
οὔτε μιαιφονώτερον.
This animated appeal was received with a shout of approbation and
sympathy on the part of the allies. All with one accord united with
Sosiklês in adjuring the Lacedæmonians[308] “not to revolutionize any
Hellenic city.” No one listened to Hippias when he replied, warning
the Corinthians that the time would come, when they, more than any
one else, would dread and abhor the Athenian democracy, and wish the
Peisistratidæ back again. He knew well, says Herodotus, that this
would be, for he was better acquainted with the prophecies than any
man. But no one then believed him, and he was forced to take his
departure back to Sigeium: the Spartans not venturing to espouse his
cause against the determined sentiment of the allies.[309]
[308] Herodot. v, 93. μὴ ποιέειν μηδὲν νεώτερον περὶ πόλιν Ἑλλάδα.
[309] Herodot. v, 93-94.
That determined sentiment deserves notice, because it marks the
present period of the Hellenic mind: fifty years later it will
be found materially altered. Aversion to single-headed rule, and
bitter recollection of men like Kypselus and Periander, are now
the chords which thrill in an assembly of Grecian deputies: the
idea of a revolution, implying thereby a great and comprehensive
change, of which the party using the word disapproves, consists in
substituting a permanent One in place of those periodical magistrates
and assemblies which were the common attribute of oligarchy and
democracy: the antithesis between these last two is as yet in the
background, nor does there prevail either fear of Athens or hatred of
the Athenian democracy. But when we turn to the period immediately
before the Peloponnesian war, we find the order of precedence
between these two sentiments reversed. The anti-monarchical feeling
has not perished, but has been overlaid by other and more recent
political antipathies,—the antithesis between democracy and oligarchy
having become, not indeed the only sentiment, but the uppermost
sentiment, in the minds of Grecian politicians generally, and the
soul of active party-movement. Moreover, a hatred of the most deadly
character has grown up against Athens and her democracy, especially
in the grandsons of those very Corinthians who now stand forward
as her sympathizing friends. The remarkable change of feeling here
mentioned is nowhere so strikingly exhibited as when we contrast
the address of the Corinthian Sosiklês, just narrated, with the
speech of the Corinthian envoys at Sparta, immediately antecedent
to the Peloponnesian war, as given to us in Thucydidês.[310] It
will hereafter be fully explained by the intermediate events, by
the growth of Athenian power, and by the still more miraculous
development of Athenian energy.
[310] Thucydid. i, 68-71, 120-124.
Such development, the fruit of the fresh-planted democracy as well
as the seed for its sustentation and aggrandizement, continued
progressive during the whole period just adverted to. But the first
unexpected burst of it, under the Kleisthenean constitution, and
after the expulsion of Hippias, is described by Herodotus in terms
too emphatic to be omitted. After narrating the successive victories
of the Athenians over both Bœotians and Chalkidians, that historian
proceeds: “Thus did the Athenians grow in strength. And we may find
proof, not merely in this instance but everywhere else, how valuable
a thing freedom is: since even the Athenians, while under a despot,
were not superior in war to any of their surrounding neighbors, but,
so soon as they got rid of their despots, became by far the first of
all. These things show that while kept down by one man, they were
slack and timid, like men working for a master; but when they were
liberated, every single man became eager in exertions for his own
benefit.” The same comparison reappears a short time afterwards,
where he tells us, that “the Athenians when free, felt themselves a
match for Sparta; but while kept down by any man under a despotism,
were feeble and apt for submission.”[311]
[311] Herodot. v, 78-91. Ἀθηναῖοι μέν νυν ηὔξηντο· δηλοῖ
δὲ οὐ κατ᾽ ἓν μόνον ἀλλὰ πανταχῇ, ἡ ἰσηγορίη ὡς ἔστι χρῆμα
σπουδαῖον, εἰ καὶ Ἀθηναῖοι τυραννευόμενοι μὲν, οὐδαμῶν τῶν
σφέας περιοικεόντων ἔσαν τὰ πολέμια ἀμείνους, ἀπαλλαχθέντες δὲ
τυράννων, μακρῷ πρῶτοι ἐγένοντο· δηλοῖ ὦν ταῦτα, ὅτι κατεχόμενοι
μὲν, ἐθελοκάκεον, ὡς δεσπότῃ ἐργαζόμενοι, ἐλευθερωθέντων δὲ,
αὐτὸς ἕκαστος ἑωϋτῷ προθυμέετο κατεργάζεσθαι.
(c. 91.) Οἱ Λακεδαιμόνιοι—νόῳ λαβόντες, ὡς ἐλεύθερον μὲν ἐὸν τὸ
γένος τὸ Ἀττικὸν, ἰσόῤῥοπον τῷ ἑωϋτῶν ἂν γένοιτο, κατεχόμενον δὲ
ὑπό του τυραννίδι, ἀσθενὲς καὶ πειθαρχέεσθαι ἐτοῖμον.
Stronger expressions cannot be found to depict the rapid improvement
wrought in the Athenian people by their new democracy. Of course
this did not arise merely from suspension of previous cruelties, or
better laws, or better administration. These, indeed, were essential
conditions, but the active transforming cause here was, the principle
and system of which such amendments formed the detail: the grand
and new idea of the sovereign People, composed of free and equal
citizens,—or liberty and equality, to use words which so profoundly
moved the French nation half a century ago. It was this comprehensive
political idea which acted with electric effect upon the Athenians,
creating within them a host of sentiments, motives, sympathies, and
capacities, to which they had before been strangers. Democracy in
Grecian antiquity possessed the privilege, not only of kindling an
earnest and unanimous attachment to the constitution in the bosoms of
the citizens, but also of creating an energy of public and private
action, such as could never be obtained under an oligarchy, where
the utmost that could be hoped for was a passive acquiescence and
obedience. Mr. Burke has remarked that the mass of the people are
generally very indifferent about theories of government; but such
indifference—although improvements in the practical working of all
governments tend to foster it—is hardly to be expected among any
people who exhibit decided mental activity and spirit on other
matters; and the reverse was unquestionably true, in the year 500 B.
C., among the communities of ancient Greece. Theories of government
were there anything but a dead letter: they were connected with
emotions of the strongest as well as of the most opposite character.
The theory of a permanent ruling One, for example, was universally
odious: that of a ruling Few, though acquiesced in, was never
positively attractive, unless either where it was associated with the
maintenance of peculiar education and habits, as at Sparta, or where
it presented itself as the only antithesis to democracy, the latter
having by peculiar circumstances become an object of terror. But the
theory of democracy was preëminently seductive; creating in the mass
of the citizens an intense positive attachment, and disposing them
to voluntary action and suffering on its behalf, such as no coercion
on the part of other governments could extort. Herodotus,[312] in
his comparison of the three sorts of government, puts in the front
rank of the advantages of democracy, “its most splendid name and
promise,”—its power of enlisting the hearts of the citizens in
support of their constitution, and of providing for all a common
bond of union and fraternity. This is what even democracy did not
always do: but it was what no other government in Greece _could_ do:
a reason alone sufficient to stamp it as the best government, and
presenting the greatest chance of beneficent results, for a Grecian
community. Among the Athenian citizens, certainly, it produced a
strength and unanimity of positive political sentiment, such as
has rarely been seen in the history of mankind, which excites our
surprise and admiration the more when we compare it with the apathy
which had preceded,—and which is even implied as the natural state of
the public mind in Solon’s famous proclamation against neutrality in
a sedition.[313] Because democracy happens to be unpalatable to most
modern readers, they have been accustomed to look upon the sentiment
here described only in its least honorable manifestations,—in the
caricatures of Aristophanês, or in the empty common-places of
rhetorical declaimers. But it is not in this way that the force,
the earnestness, or the binding value, of democratical sentiment at
Athens is to be measured. We must listen to it as it comes from the
lips of Periklês,[314] while he is strenuously enforcing upon the
people those active duties for which it both implanted the stimulus
and supplied the courage; or from the oligarchical Nikias in the
harbor of Syracuse, when he is endeavoring to revive the courage
of his despairing troops for one last death-struggle, and when he
appeals to their democratical patriotism as to the only flame yet
alive and burning even in that moment of agony.[315] From the time
of Kleisthenês downward, the creation of this new mighty impulse
makes an entire revolution in the Athenian character. And if the
change still stood out in so prominent a manner before the eyes of
Herodotus, much more must it have been felt by the contemporaries
among whom it occurred.
[312] Herodot. iii, 80. Πλῆθος δὲ ἄρχον, ~πρῶτα μὲν, οὔνομα
πάντων κάλλιστον ἔχει, ἰσονομίην~· δεύτερα δὲ, τούτων τῶν ὁ
μόναρχος, ποιέει οὐδέν· πάλῳ μὲν ἀρχὰς ἄρχει, ὑπεύθυνον δὲ ἀρχὴν
ἔχει, βουλεύματα δὲ πάντα ἐς τὸ κοινὸν ἀναφέρει.
The democratical speaker at Syracuse, Athenagoras, also puts this
name and promise in the first rank of advantages—(Thucyd. vi,
39)—ἐγὼ δέ φημι, ~πρῶτα μὲν~, δῆμον ξύμπαν ὠνόμασθαι, ὀλιγαρχίαν
δὲ, μέρος, etc.
[313] See the preceding chapter xi, of this History, vol. iii, p.
145, respecting the Solonian declaration here adverted to.
[314] See the two speeches of Periklês in Thucyd. ii, 35-46, and
ii, 60-64. Compare the reflections of Thucydidês upon the two
democracies of Athens and Syracuse, vi, 69 and vii, 21-55.
[315] Thucyd. vii, 69. Πατρίδος τε τῆς ἐλευθερωτάτης ὑπομιμνήσκων
καὶ τῆς ἐν αὐτῇ ἀνεπιτακτοῦ πᾶσιν ἐς τὴν δίαιταν ἐξουσίας, etc.
The attachment of an Athenian citizen to his democratical
constitution comprised two distinct veins of sentiment: first,
his rights, protection, and advantages derived from it,—next,
his obligations of exertion and sacrifice towards it and with
reference to it. Neither of these two veins of sentiment was ever
wholly absent; but according as the one or the other was present
at different times in varying proportions, the patriotism of the
citizen was a very different feeling. That which Herodotus remarks
is, the extraordinary efforts of heart and hand which the Athenians
suddenly displayed,—the efficacy of the active sentiment throughout
the bulk of the citizens; and we shall observe even more memorable
evidences of the same phenomenon in tracing down the history from
Kleisthenês to the end of the Peloponnesian war: we shall trace
a series of events and motives eminently calculated to stimulate
that self-imposed labor and discipline which the early democracy
had first called forth. But when we advance farther down, from the
restoration of the democracy after the Thirty Tyrants to the time
of Demosthenês,—I venture upon this brief anticipation, in the
conviction that one period of Grecian history can only be thoroughly
understood by contrasting it with another,—we shall find a sensible
change in Athenian patriotism. The active sentiment of obligation is
comparatively inoperative,—the citizen, it is true, has a keen sense
of the value of the democracy as protecting him and insuring to him
valuable rights, and he is, moreover, willing to perform his ordinary
sphere of legal duties towards it; but he looks upon it as a thing
established, and capable of maintaining itself in a due measure of
foreign ascendency, without any such personal efforts as those which
his forefathers cheerfully imposed upon themselves. The orations
of Demosthenês contain melancholy proofs of such altered tone of
patriotism,—of that languor, paralysis, and waiting for others to
act, which preceded the catastrophe of Chæroneia, notwithstanding
an unabated attachment to the democracy as a source of protection
and good government.[316] That same preternatural activity which the
allies of Sparta, at the beginning of the Peloponnesian war, both
denounced and admired in the Athenians, is noted by the orator as now
belonging to their enemy Philip.
[316] Compare the remarkable speech of the Corinthian envoys
at Sparta (Thucyd. i, 68-71), with the φιλοπραγμοσύνη which
Demosthenês so emphatically notices in Philip (Olynthiac. i, 6,
p. 13): also Philippic. i, 2, and the Philippics and Olynthiacs
generally.
Such variations in the scale of national energy pervade history,
modern as well as ancient, but in regard to Grecian history,
especially, they can never be overlooked. For a certain measure,
not only of positive political attachment, but also of active
self-devotion, military readiness, and personal effort, was
the indispensable condition of maintaining Hellenic autonomy,
either in Athens or elsewhere; and became so more than ever when
the Macedonians were once organized under an enterprising and
semi-Hellenized prince. The democracy was the first creative cause
of that astonishing personal and many-sided energy which marked the
Athenian character, for a century downward from Kleisthenês. That the
same ultra-Hellenic activity did not longer continue, is referable to
other causes, which will be hereafter in part explained. No system
of government, even supposing it to be very much better and more
faultless than the Athenian democracy, can ever pretend to accomplish
its legitimate end apart from the personal character of the people,
or to supersede the necessity of individual virtue and vigor. During
the half-century immediately preceding the battle of Chæroneia, the
Athenians had lost that remarkable energy which distinguished them
during the first century of their democracy, and had fallen much more
nearly to a level with the other Greeks, in common with whom they
were obliged to yield to the pressure of a foreign enemy. I here
briefly notice their last period of languor, in contrast with the
first burst of democratical fervor under Kleisthenês, now opening,—a
feeling which will be found, as we proceed, to continue for a longer
period than could have been reasonably anticipated, but which was
too high-strung to become a perpetual and inherent attribute of any
community.