CHAPTER III.

The Heroic Age.--Theseus.--His legislative Influence upon Athens.--

Qualities of the Greek Heroes.--Effect of a Traditional Age upon the

Character of a People.

I. As one who has been journeying through the dark [84] begins at

length to perceive the night breaking away in mist and shadow, so that

the forms of things, yet uncertain and undefined, assume an

exaggerated and gigantic outline, half lost amid the clouds,--so now,

through the obscurity of fable, we descry the dim and mighty outline

of the HEROIC AGE. The careful and skeptical Thucydides has left us,

in the commencement of his immortal history, a masterly portraiture of

the manners of those times in which individual prowess elevates the

possessor to the rank of a demigod; times of unsettled law and

indistinct control;--of adventure--of excitement;--of daring qualities

and lofty crime. We recognise in the picture features familiar to the

North: the roving warriors and the pirate kings who scoured the seas,

descended upon unguarded coasts, and deemed the exercise of plunder a

profession of honour, remind us of the exploits of the Scandinavian

Her-Kongr, and the boding banners of the Dane. The seas of Greece

tempted to piratical adventures: their numerous isles, their winding

bays, and wood-clad shores, proffered ample enterprise to the bold--

ample booty to the rapacious; the voyages were short for the

inexperienced, the refuges numerous for the defeated. In early ages,

valour is the true virtue--it dignifies the pursuits in which it is

engaged, and the profession of a pirate was long deemed as honourable

in the Aegean as among the bold rovers of the Scandinavian race [85].

If the coast was thus exposed to constant incursion and alarm, neither

were the interior recesses of the country more protected from the

violence of marauders. The various tribes that passed into Greece, to

colonize or conquer, dislodged from their settlements many of the

inhabitants, who, retreating up the country, maintained themselves by

plunder, or avenged themselves by outrage. The many crags and

mountains, the caverns and the woods, which diversify the beautiful

land of Greece, afforded their natural fortresses to these barbarous

hordes. The chief who had committed a murder, or aspired

unsuccessfully to an unsteady throne, betook himself, with his

friends, to some convenient fastness, made a descent on the

surrounding villages, and bore off the women or the herds, as lust or

want excited to the enterprise. No home was safe, no journey free

from peril, and the Greeks passed their lives in armour. Thus,

gradually, the profession and system of robbery spread itself

throughout Greece, until the evil became insufferable--until the

public opinion of all the states and tribes, in which society had

established laws, was enlisted against the freebooter--until it grew

an object of ambition to rid the neighbourhood of a scourge--and the

success of the attempt made the glory of the adventurer. Then

naturally arose the race of heroes--men who volunteered to seek the

robber in his hold--and, by the gratitude of a later age, the courage

of the knight-errant was rewarded with the sanctity of the demigod.

At that time, too, internal circumstances in the different states--

whether from the predominance of, or the resistance to, the warlike

Hellenes, had gradually conspired to raise a military and fierce

aristocracy above the rest of the population; and as arms became the

instruments of renown and power, so the wildest feats would lead to

the most extended fame.

II. The woods and mountains of Greece were not then cleared of the

first rude aboriginals of nature--wild beasts lurked within its

caverns;--wolves abounded everywhere--herds of wild bulls, the large

horns of which Herodotus names with admiration, were common; and even

the lion himself, so late as the invasion of Xerxes, was found in wide

districts from the Thracian Abdera to the Acarnanian Achelous. Thus,

the feats of the early heroes appear to have been mainly directed

against the freebooter or the wild beast; and among the triumphs of

Hercules are recorded the extermination of the Lydian robbers, the

death of Cacus, and the conquest of the lion of Nemea and the boar of

Erymanthus.

Hercules himself shines conspicuously forth the great model of these

useful adventurers. There is no doubt that a prince [86], so named,

actually existed in Greece; and under the title of the Theban

Hercules, is to be carefully distinguished, both from the god of Egypt

and the peaceful Hercules of Phoenicia [87], whose worship was not

unknown to the Greeks previous to the labours of his namesake. As the

name of Hercules was given to the Theban hero (originally called

Alcaeus), in consequence of his exploits, it may be that his

countrymen recognised in his character or his history something

analogous to the traditional accounts of the Eastern god. It was the

custom of the early Greeks to attribute to one man the actions which

he performed in concert with others, and the reputation of Hercules

was doubtless acquired no less as the leader of an army than by the

achievements of his personal prowess. His fame and his success

excited the emulation of his contemporaries, and pre-eminent among

these ranks the Athenian Theseus.

III. In the romance which Plutarch has bequeathed to us, under the

title of a “History of Theseus,” we seem to read the legends of our

own fabulous days of chivalry. The adventures of an Amadis or a

Palmerin are not more knightly nor more extravagant.

According to Plutarch, Aegeus, king of Athens, having no children,

went to Delphi to consult the oracle how that misfortune might be

repaired. He was commanded not to approach any woman till he returned

to Athens; but the answer was couched in mystic and allegorical terms,

and the good king was rather puzzled than enlightened by the reply.

He betook himself therefore to Troezene, a small town in Peloponnesus,

founded by Pittheus, of the race of Pelops, a man eminent in that day

for wisdom and sagacity. He communicated to him the oracle, and

besought his interpretation. Something there was in the divine answer

which induced Pittheus to draw the Athenian king into an illicit

intercourse with his own daughter, Aethra. The princess became with

child; and, before his departure from Troezene, Aegeus deposited a

sword and a pair of sandals in a cavity concealed by a huge stone

[88], and left injunctions with Aethra that, should the fruit of their

intercourse prove a male child, and able, when grown up, to remove the

stone, she should send him privately to Athens with the sword and

sandals in proof of his birth; for Aegeus had a brother named Pallas,

who, having a large family of sons, naturally expected, from the

failure of the direct line, to possess himself or his children of the

Athenian throne; and the king feared, should the secret of his

intercourse with Aethra be discovered before the expected child had

arrived to sufficient strength to protect himself, that either by

treason or assassination the sons of Pallas would despoil the rightful

heir of his claim to the royal honours. Aethra gave birth to Theseus,

and Pittheus concealed the dishonour of his family by asserting that

Neptune, the god most honoured at Troezene, had condescended to be the

father of the child:--the gods were very convenient personages in

those days. As the boy grew up, he evinced equal strength of body and

nobleness of mind; and at length the time arrived when Aethra

communicated to him the secret of his birth, and led him to the stone

which concealed the tokens of his origin. He easily removed it, and

repaired by land to Athens.

At that time, as I have before stated, Greece was overrun by robbers:

Hercules had suppressed them for awhile; but the Theban hero was now

at the feet of the Lydian Omphale, and the freebooters had reappeared

along the mountainous recesses of the Peloponnesus; the journey by

land was therefore not only longer, but far more perilous, than a

voyage by sea, and Pittheus earnestly besought his grandson to prefer

the latter. But it was the peril of the way that made its charm in

the eyes of the young hero, and the fame of Hercules had long inspired

his dreams by night [89], and his thoughts by day. With his father’s

sword, then, he repaired to Athens. Strange and wild were the

adventures that befell him. In Epidauria he was attacked by a

celebrated robber, whom he slew, and whose club he retained as his

favourite weapon. In the Isthmus, Sinnis, another bandit, who had

been accustomed to destroy the unfortunate travellers who fell in his

way by binding them to the boughs of two pine trees (so that when the

trees, released, swung back to their natural position, the victim was

torn asunder, limb by limb), was punished by the same death he had

devised for others; and here occurs one of those anecdotes

illustrative of the romance of the period, and singularly analogous to

the chivalry of Northern fable, which taught deference to women, and

rewarded by the smiles of the fair the exploits of the bold. Sinnis,

“the pine bender,” had a daughter remarkable for beauty, who

concealed herself amid the shrubs and rushes in terror of the victor.

Theseus discovered her, praying, says Plutarch, in childish innocence

or folly, to the plants and bushes, and promising, if they would

shelter her, never to destroy or burn them. A graceful legend, that

reminds us of the rich inventions of Spenser. But Theseus, with all

gentle words and soothing vows, allured the maiden from her retreat,

and succeeded at last in obtaining her love and its rewards.

Continued adventures--the conquest of Phaea, a wild sow (or a female

robber, so styled from the brutality of her life)--the robber Sciron

cast headlong from a precipice--Procrustes stretched on his own bed--

attested the courage and fortune of the wanderer, and at length he

arrived at the banks of the Cephisus. Here he was saluted by some of

the Phytalidae, a sacred family descended from Phytalus, the beloved

of Ceres, and was duly purified from the blood of the savages he had

slain. Athens was the first place at which he was hospitably

entertained. He arrived at an opportune moment; the Colchian Medea,

of evil and magic fame, had fled from Corinth and taken refuge with

Aegeus, whose affections she had insnared. By her art she promised

him children to supply his failing line, and she gave full trial to

the experiment by establishing herself the partner of the royal couch.

But it was not likely that the numerous sons of Pallas would regard

this connexion with indifference, and faction and feud reigned

throughout the city. Medea discovered the secret of the birth of

Theseus; and, resolved by poison to rid herself of one who would

naturally interfere with her designs on Aegeus, she took advantage of

the fear and jealousies of the old king, and persuaded him to become

her accomplice in the premeditated crime. A banquet, according to the

wont of those hospitable times, was given to the stranger. The king

was at the board, the cup of poison at hand, when Theseus, wishing to

prepare his father for the welcome news he had to divulge, drew the

sword or cutlass which Aegeus had made the token of his birth, and

prepared to carve with it the meat that was set before him. The sword

caught the eye of the king--he dashed the poison to the ground, and

after a few eager and rapid questions, recognised his son in his

intended victim. The people were assembled--Theseus was acknowledged

by the king, and received with joy by the multitude, who had already

heard of the feats of the hero. The traditionary place where the

poison fell was still shown in the time of Plutarch. The sons of

Pallas ill brooked the arrival and acknowledgment of this unexpected

heir to the throne. They armed themselves and their followers, and

prepared for war. But one half of their troops, concealed in ambush,

were cut off by Theseus (instructed in their movements by the

treachery of a herald), and the other half, thus reduced, were obliged

to disperse. So Theseus remained the undisputed heir to the Athenian

throne.

IV. It would be vain for the historian, but delightful for the poet,

to follow at length this romantic hero through all his reputed

enterprises. I can only rapidly sketch the more remarkable. I pass,

then, over the tale how he captured alive the wild bull of Marathon,

and come at once to that expedition to Crete, which is indissolubly

intwined with immortal features of love and poetry. It is related

that Androgeus, a son of Minos, the celebrated King of Crete, and by

his valour worthy of such a sire, had been murdered in Attica; some

suppose by the jealousies of Aegeus, who appears to have had a

singular distrust of all distinguished strangers. Minos retaliated by

a war which wasted Attica, and was assisted in its ravages by the

pestilence and the famine. The oracle of Apollo, which often laudably

reconciled the quarrels of princes, terminated the contest by

enjoining the Athenians to appease the just indignation of Minos.

They despatched, therefore, ambassadors to Crete, and consented, in

token of submission, to send every ninth year a tribute of seven

virgins and seven young men. The little intercourse that then existed

between states, conjoined with the indignant grief of the parents at

the loss of their children, exaggerated the evil of the tribute. The

hostages were said by the Athenians to be exposed in an intricate

labyrinth, and devoured by a monster, the creature of unnatural

intercourse, half man half bull; but the Cretans, certainly the best

authority in the matter, stripped the account of the fable, and

declared that the labyrinth was only a prison in which the youths and

maidens were confined on their arrival--that Minos instituted games in

honour of Androgeus, and that the Athenian captives were the prize of

the victors. The first victor was the chief of the Cretan army, named

Taurus, and he, being fierce and unmerciful, treated the slaves he

thus acquired with considerable cruelty. Hence the origin of the

labyrinth and the Minotaur. And Plutarch, giving this explanation of

the Cretans, cites Aristotle to prove that the youths thus sent were

not put to death by Minos, but retained in servile employments, and

that their descendants afterward passed into Thrace, and were called

Bottiaeans. We must suppose, therefore, in consonance not only with

these accounts, but the manners of the age, that the tribute was

merely a token of submission, and the objects of it merely considered

as slaves. [90]

Of Minos himself all accounts are uncertain. There seems no

sufficient ground to doubt, indeed, his existence, nor the extended

power which, during his reign, Crete obtained in Greece. It is most

probable that it was under Phoenician influence that Crete obtained

its maritime renown; but there is no reason to suppose Minos himself

Phoenician.

After the return of Theseus, the time came when the tribute to Crete

was again to be rendered. The people murmured their dissatisfaction.

“It was the guilt of Aegeus,” said they, “which caused the wrath of

Minos, yet Aegeus alone escaped its penalty; their lawful children

were sacrificed to the Cretan barbarity, but the doubtful and

illegitimate stranger, whom Aegeus had adopted, went safe and free.”

Theseus generously appeased these popular tumults: he insisted on

being himself included in the seven.

V. Twice before had this human tribute been sent to Crete; and in

token of the miserable and desperate fate which, according to vulgar

belief, awaited the victims, a black sail had been fastened to the

ship.

But this time, Aegeus, inspired by the cheerful confidence of his son,

gave the pilot a white sail, which he was to hoist, if, on his return,

he bore back Theseus in safety: if not, the black was once more to be

the herald of an unhappier fate. It is probable that Theseus did not

esteem this among the most dangerous of his adventures. At the court

of the wise Pittheus, or in the course of his travels, he had

doubtless heard enough of the character of Minos, the greatest and

most sagacious monarch of his time, to be convinced that the son of

the Athenian king would have little to fear from his severity. He

arrived at Crete, and obtained the love of Ariadne, the daughter of

Minos. Now follows a variety of contradictory accounts, the most

probable and least poetical of which are given by Plutarch; but as he

concludes them all by the remark that none are of certainty, it is a

needless task to repeat them: it suffices to relate, that either with

or without the consent of Minos, Theseus departed from Crete, in

company with Ariadne, and that by one means or the other he

thenceforth freed the Athenians from the payment of the accustomed

tribute. As it is obvious that with the petty force with which, by

all accounts, he sailed to Crete, he could not have conquered the

powerful Minos in his own city, so it is reasonable to conclude, as

one of the traditions hath it, that the king consented to his alliance

with his daughter, and, in consequence of that marriage, waived all

farther claim to the tribute of the Athenians. [91]

Equal obscurity veils the fate of the loving Ariadne; but the

supposition which seems least objectionable is, that Theseus was

driven by storm either on Cyprus or Naxos, and Ariadne being then with

child, and rendered ill by the violence of the waves, was left on

shore by her lover while he returned to take charge of his vessel;

that she died in childbed, and that Theseus, on his return, was

greatly afflicted, and instituted an annual festival in her honour.

While we adopt the story most probable in itself, and most honourable

to the character of the Athenian hero, we cannot regret the various

romance which is interwoven with the tale of the unfortunate Cretan,

since it has given us some of the most beautiful inventions of

poetry;--the Labyrinth love-lighted by Ariadne--the Cretan maid

deserted by the stranger with whom she fled--left forlorn and alone on

the Naxian shore--and consoled by Bacchus and his satyr horde.

VI. Before he arrived at Athens, Theseus rested at Delos, where he is

said to have instituted games, and to have originated the custom of

crowning the victor with the palm. Meanwhile Aegeus waited the return

of his son. On the Cecropian rock that yet fronts the sea, he watched

the coming of the vessel and the waving of the white sail: the masts

appeared--the ship approached--the white sail was not visible: in the

joy and the impatience of the homeward crew, the pilot had forgotten

to hoist the appointed signal, and the old man in despair threw

himself from the rock and was dashed to pieces. Theseus received the

news of his father’s death with sorrow and lamentation. His triumph

and return were recorded by periodical festivals, in which the fate of

Aegeus was typically alluded to, and the vessel of thirty oars with

which he had sailed to Crete was preserved by the Athenians to the

times of Demetrius the Phalerean--so often new-pieced and repaired,

that it furnished a favourite thesis to philosophical disputants,

whether it was or was not the same vessel which Theseus had employed.

VII. Possessed of the supreme power, Theseus now bent his genius to

the task of legislation, and in this part of his life we tread upon

firmer ground, because the most judicious of the ancient historians

[92] expressly attributes to the son of Aegeus those enactments which

so mainly contributed to consolidate the strength and union of the

Athenian people.

Although Cecrops is said to have brought the tribes of Attica under

one government, yet it will be remembered that he had divided the

territory into twelve districts, with a fortress or capital to each.

By degrees these several districts had become more and more distinct

from each other, and in many cases of emergency it was difficult to

obtain a general assembly or a general concurrence of the people; nay,

differences had often sprung up between the tribes, which had been

adjusted, not as among common citizens, by law, but as among jealous

enemies, by arms and bloodshed. It was the master policy of Theseus

to unite these petty commonwealths in one state. He applied in

person, and by all the arte of persuasion, to each tribe: the poor he

found ready enough to listen to an invitation which promised them the

shelter of a city, and the protection of a single government from the

outrage of many tyrants: the rich and the powerful were more jealous

of their independent, scattered, and, as it were, feudal life. But

these he sought to conciliate by promises that could not but flatter

that very prejudice of liberty which naturally at first induced them

to oppose his designs. He pledged his faith to a constitution which

should leave the power in the hands of the many. He himself, as

monarch, desired only the command in war, and in peace the

guardianship of laws he was equally bound to obey. Some were induced

by his persuasions, others by the fear of his power, until at length

he obtained his object. By common consent he dissolved the

towns’-corporations and councils in each separate town, and built in

Athens one common prytaneum or council-hall, existent still in the time

of Plutarch. He united the scattered streets and houses of the citadel,

and the new town that had grown up along the plain, by the common name

of “Athens,” and instituted the festival of the Panathenaea, in honour

of the guardian goddess of the city, and as a memorial of the

confederacy. Adhering then to his promises, he set strict and narrow

limits to the regal power, created, under the name of eupatrids or

well-born, an hereditary nobility, and divided into two orders (the

husbandmen and mechanics) the remainder of the people. The care of

religion, the explanation of the laws, and the situations of

magistrates, were the privilege of the nobles. He thus laid the

foundation of a free, though aristocratic constitution--according to

Aristotle, the first who surrendered the absolute sway of royalty, and

receiving from the rhetorical Isocrates the praise that it was a contest

which should give most, the people of power, or the king of freedom. As

an extensive population was necessary to a powerful state, so Theseus

invited to Athens all strangers willing to share in the benefits of its

protection, granting them equal security of life and law; and he set a

demarcation to the territory of the state by the boundary of a pillar

erected in the Isthmus, dividing Ionia from Peloponnesus. The Isthmian

games in honour of Neptune were also the invention of Theseus.

VIII. Such are the accounts of the legislative enactments of Theseus.

But of these we must reject much. We may believe from the account of

Thucydides that jealousies among some Attic towns--which might either

possess, or pretend to, an independence never completely annihilated

by Cecrops and his successors, and which the settlement of foreigners

of various tribes and habits would have served to increase--were so

far terminated as to induce submission to the acknowledged supremacy

of Athens as the Attic capital; and that the right of justice, and

even of legislation, which had before been the prerogative of each

separate town (to the evident weakening of the supreme and regal

authority), was now concentrated in the common council-house of

Athens. To Athens, as to a capital, the eupatrids of Attica would

repair as a general residence [93]. The city increased in population

and importance, and from this period Thucydides dates the enlargement

of the ancient city, by the addition of the Lower Town. That Theseus

voluntarily lessened the royal power, it is not necessary to believe.

In the heroic age a warlike race had sprung up, whom no Grecian

monarch appears to have attempted to govern arbitrarily in peace,

though they yielded implicitly to his authority in war. Himself on a

newly-won and uncertain throne, it was the necessity as well as the

policy of Theseus to conciliate the most powerful of his subjects. It

may also be conceded, that he more strictly defined the distinctions

between the nobles and the remaining classes, whether yeomen or

husbandmen, mechanics or strangers; and it is recorded that the

honours and the business of legislation were the province of the

eupatrids. It is possible that the people might be occasionally

convened--but it is clear that they had little, if any, share in the

government of the state. But the mere establishment and confirmation

of a powerful aristocracy, and the mere collection of the population

into a capital, were sufficient to prepare the way for far more

democratic institutions than Theseus himself contemplated or designed.

For centuries afterward an oligarchy ruled in Athens; but, free

itself, that oligarchy preserved in its monopoly the principles of

liberty, expanding in their influence with the progress of society.

The democracy of Athens was not an ancient, yet not a sudden,

constitution. It developed itself slowly, unconsciously,

continuously--passing the allotted orbit of royalty, oligarchy,

aristocracy, timocracy, tyranny, till at length it arrived at its

dazzling zenith, blazed--waned--and disappeared.

After the successful issue of his legislative attempts, we next hear

of Theseus less as the monarch of history than as the hero of song.

On these later traditions, which belong to fable, it is not necessary

to dwell. Our own Coeur de Lion suggests no improbable resemblance to

a spirit cast in times yet more wild and enterprising, and without

seeking interpretations, after the fashion of allegory or system, of

each legend, it is the most simple hypothesis, that Theseus really

departed in quest of adventure from a dominion that afforded no scope

for a desultory and eager ambition; and that something of truth lurks

beneath many of the rich embellishments which his wanderings and

exploits received from the exuberant poetry and the rude credibility

of the age. During his absence, Menestheus, of the royal race of

Attica, who, Plutarch simply tells us, was the first of mankind that

undertook the profession of a demagogue, ingratiated himself with the

people, or rather with the nobles. The absence of a king is always

the nurse of seditions, and Menestheus succeeded in raising so

powerful a faction against the hero, that on his return Theseus was

unable to preserve himself in the government, and, pouring forth a

solemn curse on the Athenians, departed to Scyros, where he either

fell by accident from a precipice, or was thrown down by the king.

His death at first was but little regarded; in after-times, to appease

his ghost and expiate his curse, divine honours were awarded to his

memory; and in the most polished age of his descendants, his supposed

remains, indicated by an eagle in the skeleton of a man of giant

stature, with a lance of brass and a sword by his side, were brought

to Athens in the galley of Cimon, hailed by the shouts of a joyous

multitude, “as if the living Theseus were come again.”

X. I have not altogether discarded, while I have abridged, the

legends relating to a hero who undoubtedly exercised considerable

influence over his country and his time, because in those legends we

trace, better than we could do by dull interpretations equally

unsatisfactory though more prosaic, the effigy of the heroic age--not

unillustrative of the poetry and the romance which at once formed and

indicated important features in the character of the Athenians. Much

of the national spirit of every people, even in its most civilized

epochs, is to be traced to the influence of that age which may be

called the heroic. The wild adventurers of the early Greece tended to

humanize even in their excesses. It is true that there are many

instances of their sternness, ferocity, and revenge;--they were

insolent from the consciousness of surpassing strength;--often cruel

from that contempt of life common to the warlike. But the darker side

of their character is far less commonly presented to us than the

brighter--they seem to have been alive to generous emotions more

readily than any other race so warlike in an age so rude--their

affections were fervid as their hatreds--their friendships more

remarkable than their feuds. Even their ferocity was not, as with the

Scandinavian heroes, a virtue and a boast--their public opinion

honoured the compassionate and the clement. Thus Hercules is said

first to have introduced the custom of surrendering to the enemy the

corpses of their slain; and mildness, justice, and courtesy are no

less his attributes than invincible strength and undaunted courage.

Traversing various lands, these paladins of an elder chivalry acquired

an experience of different governments and customs, which assisted on

their return to polish and refine the admiring tribes which their

achievements had adorned. Like the knights of a Northern mythus,

their duty was to punish the oppressor and redress the wronged, and

they thus fixed in the wild elements of unsettled opinion a recognised

standard of generosity and of justice. Their deeds became the theme

of the poets, who sought to embellish their virtues and extenuate

their offences. Thus, certain models, not indeed wholly pure or

excellent, but bright with many of those qualities which ennoble a

national character, were set before the emulation of the aspiring and

the young:--and the traditional fame of a Hercules or a Theseus assisted

to inspire the souls of those who, ages afterward, broke the Mede at

Marathon, and arrested the Persian might in the Pass of Thermopylae.

For, as the spirit of a poet has its influence on the destiny and

character of nations, so TIME itself hath his own poetry, preceding

and calling forth the poetry of the human genius, and breathing

inspirations, imaginative and imperishable, from the great deeds and

gigantic images of an ancestral and traditionary age.

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