THE OLDEST HISTORICAL GROUP OF NATIONS AND THE GREEKS by LEOPOLD von RANKE

History cannot discuss the origin of society, for the art of writing, which is the basis of historical knowledge, is a comparatively late invention. The earth had become habitable and was inhabited, nations had arisen and international connections had been formed, and the elements of civilization had appeared, while that art was still unknown. The province of History is limited by the means at her command, and the historian would be overbold who should venture to unveil the mystery of the primeval world, the relation of mankind to God and nature. The solution of such problems must be entrusted to the joint efforts of Theology and Science.

From this primeval world we pass to the monuments of a period less distant but still inconceivably remote, the vestibule, as it were, of History. These monuments have hitherto excited the admiration and defied the intelligence of successive generations, but during the last hundred years we have obtained more accurate information and a clearer understanding of them than were possessed before. In our own day the ruins of buried cities have been disinterred, and buildings have been discovered, on the walls of which the mightiest monarchs of their day caused their deeds to be inscribed.

Archaeological investigation is now everywhere pursued with a sort of filial affection, and every new fact brought to light is greeted as a fortunate discovery, while art and antiquity have become almost identical conceptions. These monuments of the past are naturally connected with the relics, unfortunately but too fragmentary, of the ancient religions, rituals, and constitutions which have survived to our own time. Around the various centres of investigation groups of studies have grown up, each of which forms a department by itself and demands the devoted attention of a lifetime. Lastly, a universal science of language has arisen, which, based upon learning as minute as it is extensive, undertakes with success the task of distinguishing and contrasting international relationships.

For the direction of all who are interested in these researches, as well as for the instruction of the public at large, nothing could be more desirable than a scientific synopsis and correlation of these various studies. Such a work would fittingly adorn an encyclopedia of historical knowledge, but it cannot be introduced into Universal History, which claims as its province only the ascertained results of historical research. History begins at the point where monuments become intelligible and documentary evidence of a trustworthy character is forthcoming, but from this point onwards her domain is boundless. Universal History, as we understand the term, embraces the events of all times and nations, with this limitation only, that they shall be so far ascertained as to make a scientific treatment of them possible.

The historians of by-gone days were satisfied with the conception of the four great empires of the world, drawn from the prophetic books of the Bible. As late as the seventeenth century this conception prevailed, but in the eighteenth it was upset by the general progress of civilization. Through the revolution in ideas which then took place the notion of Universal History was, as it were, secularized, a result chiefly clue to the publication of a voluminous record of different nations under the title of a ‘Universal History,’ which, appearing in England, was welcomed by German scholars and incited the latter to a display of similar industry. But it was impossible to remain content with the history of individual nations. A collection of national histories, whether on a larger or a smaller scale, is not what we mean by Universal History, for in such a work the general connection of things is liable to be obscured. To recognize this connection, to trace the sequence of those great events which link all nations together and control their destinies, is the task which the science of Universal History undertakes. That such a connection exists a glance is enough to show.

The first beginnings of culture belong to an epoch whose secrets we are unable to decipher, but its development is the most universal phenomenon of those times concerning which trustworthy tradition is forthcoming. Its nature cannot be expressed completely by any one word. It embraces both religious and political life, with all that is fundamental in law and society. From time to time the institutions of one or other of the Oriental nations, inherited from primeval times, have been regarded as the germ from which all civilization has sprung. But the nations whose characteristic is eternal repose form a hopeless starting-point for one who would understand the internal movement of Universal History. The nations can be regarded in no other connection than in that of the mutual action and reaction involved by their successive appearance on the stage of history and their combination into one progressive community.

Culture or civilization, by whichever name we choose to call it, contains one of the most powerful motives of internal development. To forecast its ultimate aim would be a fruitless task, for the movement of Universal History is infinite in the range of its results. The limits of historical enquiry confine our attention to the various phases in which, this element of culture appears, side by side with the opposition which in each of them it encounters from the inveterate peculiarities of the different nations and tribes with whom it comes in contact. These peculiarities, again, have their original justification and possess an inextinguishable vitality.

But historical development does not rest on the tendency towards civilization alone. It arises also from impulses of a very different kind, especially from the rivalry of nations engaged in conflict with each other for the possession of the soil or for political supremacy. It is in and through this conflict, affecting as it does all the domain of culture, that the great empires of history are formed. In their unceasing struggle for dominion the peculiar characteristics of each nation are modified by universal tendencies, but at the same time resist and react upon them.

Universal History would degenerate into mere theory and speculation if it were to desert the firm ground of national history, but just as little can it afford to cling to this ground alone. The history of each separate nation throws light on the history of humanity at large; but there is a general historical life, which moves progressively from one nation or group of nations to another. In the conflict between the different national groups Universal History comes into being, while, at the same time, the sense of nationality is aroused, for nations do not draw their impulses to growth from themselves alone. Nationalities so powerful and distinct as the English or the Italian are not so much the offspring of the soil and the race as of the great events through which they have passed.

We have therefore to investigate and understand not only the universal life of mankind, but the peculiarities of at any rate the more prominent nations. In this attempt the laws of historical criticism, which hold good in every detailed enquiry, may on no account be neglected, for it is only the results of critical investigation which can be dignified with the title of history at all. Our glance must indeed be always fixed on the universal, but from false premises only false conclusions can be drawn. Critical enquiry and intelligent generalization are mutually indispensable.

In conversation with intimate friends I have often discussed the question whether it be possible to write an Universal History on such principles as these. We came to the conclusion that perfection was not to be attained, but that it was none the less necessary to make the attempt. Such an attempt I now lay before the public. My point of view throughout has been the following. In the course of ages the human race has won for itself a sort of heirloom in the material and social advance which it has made, but still more in its religious development. One portion of this heritage, the most precious jewel of the whole, consists of those immortal works of genius in poetry and literature, in science and art, which, while modified by the local conditions under which they were produced, yet represent what is common to all mankind. With this possession are inseparably combined the memories of events, of ancient institutions, and of great men who have passed away. One generation hands on this tradition to another, and it may from time to time be revived and recalled to the minds of men. This is the thought which gives me courage and confidence to undertake the task.

5. State of Things at Athens during the Years immediately before and after the End of the Peloponnesian War

In the dawn of history the popular conceptions of things divine are found to coincide with the tendencies of human life and the spirit of political organization. They summarize and express those tendencies and that spirit in a form more intelligible to us than any detailed description of circumstances and institutions. The ideal to which humanity aspires is always a divine ideal, and the efforts of mankind, however strong may be the alien influence of physical conditions, are unceasingly directed towards this goal. With these conceptions, therefore, I begin.

In ancient Egypt we meet with three distinct forms in which men have shadowed forth their consciousness of divine things. The first is one, so to speak, aboriginal, arising from and corresponding to the nature of the soil. In all times men have premised and thought themselves justified in assuming an immediate and local influence on the part of their divinities. This form I distinguish by the most general name—the worship of the Egyptians. It corresponded to the foundations of the life and culture of the nation. But the possession of the soil becomes the prize for which other nations contend. Egypt, a rich and self-sufficing region, excited the cupidity of neighboring races which served other gods. Under the name of the Shepherd-peoples, foreign despots and races ruled Egypt for several centuries. These followed the ensigns of another god, who, however, was not peculiar to themselves, but belonged to all the peoples of Western Asia. This was the god Baal, who appears in Egypt under the name Sutech, and is held accursed as the evil principle. As might naturally be expected, a deadly struggle broke out between the two religions. The result was that the Egyptian worship not only reinstated itself and expelled the invader, but sought out and vanquished the latter in its own home. But even whilst these two religions were struggling with each other, there arose a third in which the Divine Idea was exalted above nature. This religion Egypt cannot be properly said to have expelled; it emancipated itself by its own power. The steps by which this religion, when it had once made itself independent, obtained the supremacy over all other forms of religious worship, and became one of the fundamental principles both of Islam and of the Christian world, form one of the most important elements in universal history. From the very first this religion developed itself in opposition to the ancient worship of Egypt.

The Egyptian religion has its origin in an epoch which we lack the means of investigating. In inquiring into its meaning and purport, we have no intention of encroaching upon those labours by which modern research endeavours to clear up this obscure subject. Egypt forms the conclusion of an introductory chapter of human history, a period of inconceivable duration, whose most precious legacy consists of the more ancient Egyptian monuments. In this epoch the religion of the country had its beginning, a religion to which, with all its defects, we must assign a world-wide significance.

The cosmic phenomena, by which life on earth is generally conditioned, dominate it nowhere so absolutely as in the mysterious region which is called Egypt. Everything rests upon the fact that the Nile by its inundations has turned the land near its banks in the midst of the desert into a soil capable of cultivation, and by its alluvial deposits has gradually converted the bay into which it originally fell into one of the richest plains in the world. Chemical analysis has shown that there is nowhere a more fruitful soil than that formed by the mud of the Nile. These overflows, however, which have not only fertilized the land, but have even partially created it, are limited to fixed seasons of the year. They occur, though not always to the same extent, yet with absolute certitude at the times once for all determined.

The language of ancient Egypt has been supposed to present a distant affinity with the Semitic tongues. But, isolated as they were by nature, it is no wonder if the Egyptians framed a religion exclusively their own, and a political constitution equally peculiar. Both were based upon the physical conditions alluded to above. The inundation which flooded the whole country was but a single event. It was necessary, therefore, that the whole country should be under one government, with power to guide the water into districts which otherwise it might not have reached, and to re-establish the limits of individual property, which were on each occasion effaced. Such a power there was ; otherwise the people would have been condemned to simple slavery. Where the ordinary and habitual conditions of agriculture exist, a territorial nobility may be established which, gathered in cities, assumes republican forms. Here, however, where the fixity of property is dependent upon occurrences which affect all without distinction, the prevision and active forethought of a single supreme power are necessarily implied. The deity, whose ordaining hand is to be recognised in the course of the sun, upon which everything depends, and the king, who devises the arrangements for security upon earth, are in idea indissolubly connected. On the monuments, indeed, we see the king presenting to the god emblems representative of the different provinces, each with attributes of an agricultural nature. The gods appear under divergent names, varying with the chief towns and provinces, in which they were worshipped. To the principal of them, however, Ra, Ptah, Amon, the same designations are assigned. They form but one divinity under different names. A hero who wished to see the god Amon met with a refusal. The Divine, it was said, revealed itself only through its works, and under a multiplicity of forms. God is not, properly speaking, the creator of the world. He did not say, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light, he summoned the sun, which accordingly must have been in existence already, and prescribed his course. There are, however, opposing elements which exert themselves to disturb the order introduced into the universe by the deity. The deity is further identified with the Nile, the chief support and basis of life, no less than with the sun itself, and is manifested in the animal world even more immediately than in man. The bull Apis is the living type of the god Osiris, who is regarded especially as the giver of all good.

Man is not considered as an incarnation of deity, although the legend makes him spring from the eye of deity, the sun. He was at first without speech or language; this as well as everything else was taught him by the gods. Religious worship was the principal business of the Egyptian: properly speaking there was nothing profane in the land. There was a numerous priesthood, which everywhere represented the national religion, and was besides in possession of the science and experience by which everything is regulated. Nor is the science of Egypt to be spoken of with contempt. The Egyptians, in this rivalling Babylon, determined the course of the sun in relation to the earth, and divided the year accordingly. Their system was at once so scientific and so practical, that Julius Cesar adopted their calendar and introduced it within the Roman empire. The rest of the world followed suit, and for seventeen centuries it was in universal use. Among the relics of primeval times the calendar may be regarded as the one which has attained to most conspicuous influence in the world.

With this idea of God is closely associated the monarchical authority. The king is not only established by God, he is himself of the lineage of God, and returns to God when he dies. Never were there rulers who made it more their concern to oppose to the perishable nature of things, imperishable monuments. The traveller who visits the pyramids of Gizeh stands in silent awe as he gazes upon these gigantic monuments of the remotest antiquity in their mysterious solitude. They stand there lonely in time as in space. The appeal of a great general of modern times to his troops, “Forty centuries look down upon you”, was perhaps after all an inadequate expression of the truth. Innumerable are the centuries which look down from the pyramids upon the races of today.

In spite of all the efforts of research, we have, as one of the most distinguished Egyptologists has expressly admitted, not advanced far beyond Herodotus in positive knowledge of ancient Egyptian history. Now, as then, the first founder of the monarchy appears to have been that Menes who, descending from Thinis, founded Memphis, ‘the goodly dwelling’. The great dyke which he built to protect the town against the inundations of the Nile afforded at the same time a secure stronghold for the dominion over the Delta. According to a legend preserved elsewhere, Menes succumbed in a struggle with a crocodile while engaged in his task of subduing the hostile powers of nature. Of all the names out of which the three dynasties in immediate succession to Menes have been compiled, nothing memorable is recorded. In the fourth dynasty at length appear the builders of the great pyramids, the noble sepulchral monuments of epochs inconceivably remote.

It is easy to see even at the present time from how great a distance the blocks of stone have been brought to form a flat surface round the monument to be erected. The foundations of the building were cased in granite. The regular entrances were closed by trap doors of granite. The long passages leading to the sepulchral chambers are constructed upon an admirable plan. The chambers themselves were entirely carved out of the rock, with the exception of the roof, which was formed of huge blocks of limestone. In the very centre of the building is found the sarcophagus, which in the two largest pyramids is without any inscription. The name of the builder, however, was given in an inscription on a slab of granite outside. The amount of force employed is as remarkable as the architectural skill displayed throughout. These structures belong to this region, and this alone. Tradition was not agreed whether they were erected in complete harmony with the Egyptian gods or in defiance of them , the first of the builders are called arrogant enemies of the gods, the last builder their servant and the friend of the nation by whom they are worshipped.

Even after this, however, we find only a list of names to which no actions are attributed that could give them any significance. We pass on to the so-called sixth dynasty, which is made significant through the name of Nitocris, or, as it also appears on the monuments, Nitagrit. We are familiar with the heroic legend which Herodotus was told, how that Nitocris was exalted to be queen by the magnates of the land, who had slain her husband ; and how she avenged his murder upon them, inviting those implicated in the crime into a subterranean hall, into which she brought a canal from the river, so that they were destroyed. But this action made life impossible for her : she threw herself into a space inclosed by a wall and filled with red-hot embers, and died.

The murder of a king, a crafty woman’s revenge, the destruction of the guilty by the river, the suicide of the queen in red-hot embers, interrupt the first series of Egyptian kings with a story which could have been conceived nowhere else but in the valley of the Nile. I do not venture to fix a time in which these occurrences could be placed. They belong, if I mistake not, to the traditions which have passed as a heritage from the remotest antiquity to later generations. After this five hundred years pass by, about which the monuments are practically silent. An occurrence such as that must have been which forms the historic foundation of the story of Nitocris could not fail to bring the most intricate complications in its train. Yet the unity of Egypt was maintained. The dynasty which appears as the twelfth in the successive series, and which had its capital no longer at Memphis, but at Thebes, extended the territory towards the north and south, formed a well-secured frontier, and left as its legacy a work of hydraulic engineering the aim of which exactly includes and expresses the principle which gives the land of the Nile its unity- Herodotus had seen and admired the Lake Moeris; the name of the King Moeris, to whom he attributed it, rests upon a misconception. But the work, magnificent in its very ruins, still exists. It is not a natural lake, but an excavated reservoir, with enormous dykes about fifty feet in width, and it was designed, when the Nile rose, to receive the waters which might perhaps have worked mischief in the Delta, and to reserve them for times when the inundation of the country did not attain the height requisite for its fertility. In the water was to be seen the colossus of stone which perpetuated the memory of the constructor, Amenemhat III; for to regulate the inundations was the principal business of a ruler of Egypt. It must have been in close connection with this duty, if not expressly on account of it, that this prince and the dynasty to which he belonged extended the frontier, in order to obtain in due time information of the rising of the Nile and to transmit it to the plains below.

In the sepulchral chamber of Chnumhotep, one of the provincial governors under this dynasty, we discover the names of the kings. Much instruction may be gained from these sepulchral chambers, and we venture to linger over them for a moment, since they bring before our eyes, at least in individual instances, the condition of the country at a significant period.

In the sepulchral chambers of Beni-Hassan, Chnumhotep appears in the midst of his own possessions, which, from the districts in the east, whose guardianship has been confided to him by the king, extend far into the west. We see him represented in heroic proportions in the midst of the waters, fields, and groves which the inscription assigns to him, while his people are threading the Nile in barks. In the water are to be seen crocodiles, hippopotami, and fish ; on the bank are papyrus plants, on which we can distinguish an ichneumon, at which he is aiming his spear ; above are water-fowl, and a tree upon the branches of which birds are sitting. On the other side we see him holding in his hand a number of waterfowl which he has killed. Still more imposing is he as governor and deputy of the king. He is the subject of a design which has been much discussed, in which neighbouring tribes are represented paying him homage. An Egyptian scribe is handing to the deputy a sheet of papyrus. The visitors have come to offer him cosmetics for the eyes, probably for the adornment of his women. Another Egyptian to whom he has entrusted the charge of entertaining the strangers seems to be introducing them. We see the chieftain splendidly dressed, with eyes downcast, and at his side a noble ibex, behind him his son, also with a young ibex. Behind them appear several personages in rich costume with bow and spear. They belong, as the inscription says, to the tribe Amu. Ibexes such as they are bringing are found to this day in the peninsula of Sinai. In a second section of the procession four tall and carefully dressed women occupy a conspicuous place ; their luxuriant hair falls over their shoulders, and is compressed in front by a band across the forehead. It seems doubtful whether they belong to the family of the strangers or are being offered as a present. Before and behind them are beasts of burden carrying arms, and a lute- player depicted in the act of playing ; last of all, again, a stately warrior armed with bow, quiver, and club. They Appear to be allies offering homage to the deputy, who here represents the king. There is nothing to show that they are begging to be admitted as subjects, and it is clear from a single glance that there is no reference to the children of Israel. It is a scene from the most flourishing era of the Egyptian power.

We see clearly how far the art of reproducing life in imitative forms had already progressed in Egypt. The most conspicuous achievements in art are, however, the edifices themselves, which satisfy the eye in their colossal grandeur, and, though not always what we should call classic, yet give constant evidence of technical skill and aptitude of a very advanced kind. Colossal dimensions are combined with accuracy of form, as in those statues of Memnon to which tradition ascribes a vocal salutation to the rising sun. It is the dawn of artistic development for the whole human race.

In those sepulchral chambers are conspicuous also the symbols of that worship of the gods which, though radically modified by the nature of life in the valley of the Nile, yet still retains a religious import. Amon, even with his ram’s head, appears a stately and truly divine form in contrast with those who are offering him their presents, their pitchers in their hands. It is very striking that the distinct divinities which are named beside him have yet the same attributes as his. These attributes imply that they owe their existence only to themselves and are the rulers of the world. The godhead, which, as we have already mentioned, would not reveal itself in its own form, appears also with the head of a falcon, and even in the form of a beetle, and in a thousand other shapes. The animal-worship of the Egyptians rests upon a presumption that the deity is in the habit of assuming certain animal forms. This did indeed degenerate into a brutish idolatry, but it was never forgotten that all was symbolical, and worship was always given to the god concealed under an external form. The Egyptian conceptions may, in spite of instances of degeneracy, always be styled a religion, and form a pantheism embracing the whole phenomenal world and recurring even in man. Life was not ended in death ; it was assumed that it returned to its divine source. Another Nileland was imagined beyond the grave, the Egyptian having neither power nor inclination to sever himself from local associations. The soul of the pure is united to the Deity, and yet seems to retain its individuality, and is adored by posterity. Hence the extreme care bestowed upon the sepulchres; in the sarcophagus documents are placed, designed to show that the deceased is worthy of admission to another world.

In the sepulchral chambers some light is thrown on the political constitution of the country. The deputy above mentioned says in praise of King Amenemhat II that he has quelled an insurrection, ‘taken possession of one town after another, gathered information about each town and its territories as far as the next town, set up their boun ary. stones and assessed their tributes.’ In the same inscription nothing is so strongly emphasised as the hereditary position of the deputies and princes of the districts. ‘My mother,’ says Chnumhotep, ‘ succeeded to the possession of an hereditary dignity as daughter of a prince of the district of Memphis. A king, Amenemhat II, led me as a son of a noble house into the heritage of the princedom of my mother’s father, according to the greatness of his love of justice.’¹

Chnumhotep makes special boast of the manner in which he displayed his zeal in reverencing the dead. ‘I did good for the dwellings of reverence,’ that is, of the dead, ‘and their homes, and caused my portraits to be brought into the sacred dwelling, and bestowed on them due sacrifices of pure gifts, and appointed the priest to minister to them, and made him rich with gifts of fields and peasants.’ Another business which engaged him was the arrangement of the festivals, in which the union of the celestial and terrestrial phenomena is represented in a calendar. He quotes annual festivals—feast of the new year, feast of the little year, feast of the great year, feast of the end of the year ; then monthly festivals—feast of the great burning, feast of the little burning, feast of the five reckoning days of the year, as well as a whole series of other festivals, which represent a sort of Egyptian fasti analogous to those of the Romans. The priest who neglects them is to be counted a thing of naught, and his son shall not sit upon his seat.

For some time Egypt stood firm in all its unity and homogeneity. It was rich and fertile, the granary for all neighbouring tribes which then as now infested its borders. These invaders gradually overpowered the defence. The aliens took possession of the Delta, and pushed on further still. They were tribes of Bedouin Arabs. In the sepulchral chambers are found also Phoenician names. It is an assertion of ancient date that Canaanitish tribes, especially Philistines, took part in the conquest. By later generations they were called Hyksos, by which name it is thought Arabian leaders are meant. These are the Shepherd-kings to whom legend assigns the possession during several centuries of Lower Egypt. But here again we are referred to doubtful authorities. On the monuments the name of Hyksos has as yet not once been found. It is undeniable that the Egyptian worship was expelled by that of the invaders. The god Sutech, whom they principally worshipped, is no other than the Baal whom the Canaanites adored. The struggle was no less religious than political. From a fragmentary papyrus we gather that a message was addressed by the chieftain of the shepherds to the Prince of the South, probably the Pharaoh of the Thebaid, and that the latter declared he could not permit any other god to be worshipped in the land save Amon Ra. Out of this twofold opposition arose a war, through which Egypt gradually relieved herself from an oppressive and alien rule.

Taken by itself, this event was not one of universal importance ; Egypt simply resumed her former condition. But the great achievement had roused the Egyptians to national consciousness. They had now but one king, who was entitled King of the Upper and Lower Country. They had everywhere expelled the enemy. They now entered into commercial relations with the Arabians. They felt themselves powerful in arms and richly provided with everything necessary for war. Hence it came about that Thutmosis I formed a resolution to avenge upon the enemies of his country the wrong suffered in the epochs immediately preceding, or, as an inscription expresses it, ‘ to wash his heart.’ Something like this has occurred, no doubt, at all times and places ; but, in this case, the effort was attended with unusual success. It brought Egypt into relations with countries previously unknown to her, and its long-continued influence has occasioned great revolutions in the world’s history. Thutmosis I belongs to that brilliant series of Pharaohs which is reckoned as the eighteenth dynasty. His expeditions were especially directed against Ruten, under which name we are to understand Palestine and Syria.

The progress of the movement thus spreading over those obscure regions is interrupted in the reign of Thutmosis II, the elder son of Thutmosis I; the thread is resumed in his daughter Haschop. She established herself in possession of both crowns, and appears as queen or lady of the country under the name Makara. In her reign is to be placed the first sea voyage of which there is documentary evidence in the primitive history of the world. It was made to Punt, the land of balm, the land from which the Egyptians derived their origin, and which now submitted to the double crown. The vessels returned laden with rich and rare products from that region. This information is gathered from a sculptural representation illustrated with inscriptions. The stone narrates a story that appears almost fabulous, but the fact of a close connection between Egypt and Arabia stands out too clearly to be rejected. To the royal lady Makara belongs accordingly the first place in the annals of navigation. Her undertaking preceded by many centuries the voyages of Solomon and of the Phoenicians to Ophir. Secure in the south, which yielded gold, and fortified by the wealth resulting from his commercial relations, Thutmosis III, the younger brother of Makara, whose reign is placed in the first half of the sixteenth century before our era, was enabled to enter upon a great struggle, the most important of all that Egypt had to undergo. This was the war with the Retennu, as the Egyptians called the Semitic nations to the east and north of Egypt. We may be permitted to repeat the accounts which are found in the inscriptions, coloured though they are by partiality. The first maritime expedition finds its counterpart in the first systematic war by land which emerges with distinctness from the mists of antiquity. From this point it begins to be the destiny of the human race to ripen and to develop through voyages by sea and wars between neighbouring races. What we gather gives us a glimpse at once into countries of peculiar organization, of which no other record is extant, and into a campaign of the oldest time and of a very singular description.

The nations assailed had already been subdued once, but had regained their liberty, and, in particular, the neighbouring tribes of the Ruten and the Phoenicians, with the exception of Gaza, had assumed a hostile attitude. In the inscriptions on the temple of Amon at Thebes the first and principal campaign of Thutmosis III is depicted. To encounter the advancing monarch the tribes, whose localities extend as far as the Land Naharain (Mesopotamia), with the Chalu (Phoenicians) and the Kidu (Chittim), have united in one large host and taken Megiddo.¹ Contrary to the advice of his captains and trusting to his god, Thutmosis III chooses the most dangerous road, in order to push his march further. His captains submit to his will, because the servant is bound to obey his master; all their zeal is now devoted to following their king, and at the same time protecting him. They are successful in the battle so far as to remain masters of the field, and even to capture the tent of the hostile king.

The Egyptians utter a shout of joy and give honour to Amon, the lord of Thebes, who has given victory to his son. All the neighbouring princes come with their children, in order to make supplication before the king and to entreat breath for their nostrils—that is, life, which had as it were been forfeited through their turbulent rebellion. The monuments contain a list of the countries which, as it is said, had hitherto been uninvaded, and from which captives were now carried away. Amongst these Megiddo, Damascus, Beyrout, Taanach, Joppa, Mamre, are recognisable. The character of the war is learnt from the inscription over a captain, who says of himself, ‘ When his Holiness was come as far as to the land Naharain, I carried away three grown persons after a hand-to-hand conflict. I brought them before his Holiness as prisoners taken alive.’ In the Nubian temple of Amada constructed by Thutmosis III in memory of all his predecessors and all the gods, he boasts of his victories, and of the execution done on his antagonists. He has with his own hand and with his battle club struck down seven princes who ruled over the land of Thachis. They lie gagged in the bows of the royal ship, the name of which appears as Ship of Amenemhotep II (son of Thutmosis), the Sustainer of the Land. Five of these enemies were hung on the outside of the wall of Thebes. Throughout the monuments we may note the largess liberally bestowed by the king upon his warriors.

The preponderance of Egypt over her neighbours thus established was maintained for many years. Under one of the succeeding kings, Tutanch-Amon, we see on one side a negro queen with rich gifts from her country, and on the other the red-skinned princes of the land of Ruten. ‘Grant us,’ say the latter, ‘freedom at thy hand. Beyond all telling are thy victories, and there is no enemy in thy time. The whole earth rests in peace.’

Once more the regular succession of the royal line was interrupted. King Sethos I of the nineteenth dynasty had the hardest struggles to undergo. The Cheta appear as his most conspicuous opponents, and around them had been formed a union of nations embracing a large part of Western Asia. The seat of their chief was at Kadesh.¹ He had already made treaties with the Egyptians, which he is accused of having broken. Canaan, the name of which appears in the inscriptions dedicated to Sethos, is here seen in a characteristic state of balance between autonomy and dependence. It appears to consist of isolated cities whose kings are worshippers and suppliants of Baal in his several forms, and of Astarte. They are united in war and peace with the Egyptians, but otherwise independent. Sethos is led through his pursuit of Bedouin Arabs, called Schasu, who had pushed into Egypt, into the district of Canaan. Some localities are mentioned which we encounter again in the Israelitish traditions. The Schasu and the Phoenician peoples who, though not united among themselves, are in alliance with them, are conquered. Then Sethos turns his arms against Kadesh. The inscriptions describe him not only as very brave and eager for the fight, but even as bloodthirsty.. ‘ His joy is to take up the fight, and his bliss is to rush into the battle. His heart is only appeased at the sight of the streams of blood, when he smites down the heads of his enemies.’ His two-horse chariot was called ‘ Great in Victory.’ He directs his march against Kadesh, where he finds the herds of cattle grazing before the gates ; the town cannot resist his unexpected attack. After this he is for the first time forced to fight a pitched battle. The Cheta, a beardless, bright-complexioned people, make a stout resistance with their war chariots, but are nevertheless conquered. Thereupon the princes and elders of the adjoining district make submission, and acknowledge the divine mission, so to speak, of Sethos. ‘Thou appearest,’ they say, ‘ like thy father, the sun god. Men live through the sight of thee.’

In this pictorial history we see the inhabitants of Lebanon felling the lofty cedars to build a great ship on the river at Thebes, and likewise for the lofty masts set up by King Seti at the temple of Amon in the same city. The inscriptions boast that ‘ he has set his frontiers at the beginning of the world, and at the furthest borders of the riverland Naha- rain, which is encompassed by the Great Sea.’ On his return with spoil unprecedented, Seti is received with festive pomp and with the cry, ‘ May thy days endure as those of the sun in heaven ! The sun god himself has established thy borders.’ Then follows a list of the conquered countries, Cheta, Naharain, Upper Ruten (Canaan), Lower Ruten (North Syria), Singar (the Shinar of the sacred writings), together with Kadesh, Megiddo, and the Schasu Arabians. The spoil is presented to the god Amon. ‘ The captives of the lands which knew not Egypt ’ appear as servants and handmaids of the god Araon.

As soon, however, as Seti is dead, or, as the Egyptians express it, reunited with the sun, we find the conquered nations in open rebellion. Rameses II Miamun,¹ the son of Sethos, was compelled in his very first campaign to direct the arms of Egypt against Canaan and even against the Cheta,. around whom all the other nations gathered once more. He encountered them in a battle which has been immortalised as well through historic inscriptions as through an heroic poem engraved upon the walls—immortalised, or rather preserved to be deciphered in later times. The more historical inscription on the temple walls relates that the king incurred great danger through the shortcomings of his officers. He had received, we are told, insufficient information about the enemy, who had crossed a canal to the south of Kadesh, and found himself in consequence unexpectedly face to face with them. They surround the Pharaoh with his escort. In this peril the king puts on his armour, and, unattended as he is, he rushes into the midst of the hostile bands of Cheta. ' I smote them down,’ says the king, ‘ and hurled them into the waters of Arantha (Orontes); I extinguished the whole host of them; and yet was I alone, for my warriors and my charioteers had left me in the lurch. Then did the King of Cheta turn his hands to make supplication before me.’

According to the pictorial history in the temples the various divisions of the forces were named after the gods. Pharaoh’s tent is in the middle of the camp, and beside it is the migratory tabernacle of the chief gods of Egypt. The inscription appended to the pictorial history can scarcely find words in which to describe the valour of the king. Still more circumstantial is the heroic poem, which we cannot pass over, since it throws a new light upon the conditions and ideas of the age. According to this poem the King of Cheta had taken with him all the nations on his line of march. He had possessed himself of all their goods and chattels to give to those who accompanied him to the war. His horsemen and chariots were numerous as the sand. Each chariot contained three men, and the foremost heroes united their strength at a single point. A portion of the Egyptian troops is already defeated. The king, who thereupon throws himself into the fight in another direction, sees himself encompassed by 2,500 two-horse chariots. ‘ Where art thou, my father Amon ? ’ he exclaims in his distress. The god is reminded of all the structures raised and offices performed in his honour, and how ‘ the king has always walked and stood according to the saying of his mouth.’ His prayer finds acceptance. The king hears the words of the god. ‘ I have hastened hither to thee, Rameses Miamun. It is I, thy father, the sun god Ra. Yea, I am worth more than a hundred thousand united in one place. I am the lord of victory, the friend of valour.’

It is in a mythologic point of view worthy of remark that the king with the support of the Egyptian god becomes a match for the gods of his opponents ; he is as it were a Baal in their rear. The enemy exclaims,' Yonder is no man! Woe! woe ! He who is amongst us is Sutech. The glorious Baal is in all his limbs.’ The king, however, blames the cowardice of his army. ‘ I exalt you to be princes day after day, I set the son in the inheritance of his father and keep all harm far from the land of the Egyptians, and ye desert me ! Such servants are worthless. I was alone fighting them, and have withstood millions of aliens, I all alone.’

The next day the battle is renewed; the Egyptian warriors rush into the fray ‘ even as the falcon swoops upon the kids.’ Then the King of Cheta makes suit to Pharaoh for peace.

‘ Thou art ’—thus he addresses him—Ra Hormachu ; thou art Sutech the glorious, the son of Nut, Baal in his time. Because thou art the son of Amon, out of whose loins thou hast sprung, he hath altogether given the nations over unto thee. The people of Egypt and the people of Cheta shall be brethren, and serve thee together.’ By the advice of the leaders of his army, the charioteers and body-guard, the king accedes to this prayer. On his return he is received by the god Amon himself with ardent congratulations. ‘ May the gods grant thee jubilees every thirty years, infinitely many, even for ever and ever upon the throne of thy father Turn, and may all lands be under thy feet.’

In the compact then concluded the King of Cheta appears no longer, as in the notices of the war itself, as the ‘ miserable,’ but as the ‘ great king.’ Not only is friendship contracted between the kings themselves, but it is said, ‘ The sons’ sons of the great King of Cheta shall hold together and be friends with the sons’ sons of Rameses Miamun, the great prince of Egypt.’ The compact is at the same time a covenant between the gods of both countries. Those of Cheta are all named after the several cities, Astarte among them. The men, as it were, pledge themselves for their gods. ‘ He who shall observe these commandments contained in the silver table of the covenant, whether he be of the people of the Cheta or of the people of the Egyptians, because he hath not neglected them, the host of the gods of the land of Cheta and the host of the gods of the land of Egypt shall surely give him his reward and maintain his life; for him and for his servants, and for them who are with him and his servants.’

If the monuments up to this point have presented to us nothing but barren lists of names, it seems indisputable that here they set before our eyes a genuine fragment of ancient Egyptian history in its connection with Canaan. The narrative is loaded with eulogistic phraseology and interspersed with religious and poetic ideas, but it contains facts. We recognise not only the encroaching spirit of the Egyptian power, but also the resistance of the Canaanitish races, amongst which Kadesh plays an important part.

Until these inscriptions were deciphered nothing was known of the facts which they narrate. On the other hand antiquity has transmitted the legend of a great conqueror, Sesostris by name, who made the Egyptian arms formidable in the world far and wide. We must, however, give the inscriptions the preference over the legend. Probably the latter is to be connected with the exploits which the Egyptian kings, such as Thutmosis and Sethos, really achieved ; but it was a story not invented till later times, and in fact not without the conscious design of finding a parallel to other universal monarchies. As it appears in Herodotus, its purpose is to oppose to the Persians an Egyptian king who had excelled their own. Sesostris is said to have conquered the Scythians, an attempt in which the Persian conquerors had failed. In the later form in which Diodorus, who had himself been in Egypt, received the story, it had been so far amplified that even the glory of Alexander the Great paled before that of Sesostris, to whom was ascribed a conquest of the countries on the banks of the Ganges. The old monuments are very far from displaying so wide an horizon. Even they are of a boastful character, and we might perhaps doubt whether the exploits of the Egyptian kings were really attended with marked success, since they lead in the end to nothing more than a peaceful compact with the enemies of the country. But we can scarcely question that Egypt too had her epoch of successful campaigns and warlike actions, the influence of which was very considerable. The edifices of Luxor, planned on a vast scale and executed with great genius, bear witness to the power of Egypt at this epoch.

Baal, however, and the aggregate of nations which worshipped him were not completely subdued. The religion of Baal, which had spread from the countries near the Euphrates over a great portion of Western Asia, was as much impregnated with elements of culture as the Egyptian faith. The principal distinction may possibly have been in the fact that the latter, as depending upon the physical conformation of the Nile valley, wore a local character, whilst the Babylonian was a religion of universal nature and adapted to commercial peoples. But astronomical studies and observations were a possession common to both, and the Chaldeans, whose special glory it is that they laid the first foundations of astronomy, claimed to be a colony of Egyptians. It has been observed that the pure atmosphere, enjoyed alike in Babylon and in Egypt, renders easy the observation of the heavenly bodies. Amongst other advantages it removes the difficulty which elsewhere results from the pressure of the atmosphere upon the water, the regular flow of which is employed in the measurement of time. To this is to be traced the close resemblance between the two nations in many things which regulate the intercourse of daily life, especially in weights and measures. The duodecimal system in liquid measures, which is found elsewhere, appears to be derived from the Babylonians. The division of day and night into twelve hours is to be traced, according to all appearance, to the same origin. The religion of Baal had two central points, one in Tyre, the other in Babylon. Baal is the sun, Astarte the moon, and the planets combine with these two to form a single system. It is indisputable that all this is closely dependent on the observation of the heavenly bodies, and contains a principle of a cosmogonic if not of a theogonic character.

The powers of nature are regarded at once as sidereal and terrestrial ; with the sun, moon, and the host of the heavenly bodies appears the earth as the mother of all. A distinction, however, is made between the creative and destructive powers and between the male and female principle, which incessantly act and react on each other, and from which all things are derived. This view of the universe might be regarded as the oldest of all, though the first step is immediately accompanied by a second, the localisation, that is, of these divinities in the separate provinces. That the Babylonian mythology has many affinities with that of Upper Asia and even India may be explained by geographical circumstances. Thus the superstition of the Phoenicians was blended with the religions of Africa and Europe, with which their voyages by sea brought them into contact. In the whole conception, regarded as a view of nature, there is something magnificent and even profound ; but it is an idea which it is difficult to grasp. Out of the separate mythologies the Emperor Julian at a time of distinct antagonism between monotheistic and polytheistic doctrines wove a system full of meaning and significance.

With this, however, the popular conceptions have very little to do. These religions were at the same time idolatries, and such is the form they assume to the outer world. It may no doubt be true that Baal was not thought of without reference to a Supreme Being presiding over all things. It is possible too that the circle of the stars signifies their rotation, which itself implies a divine energy. Thus the priests may have conceived the matter. But in the worship of the people other motives come into prominence. Baal is at the same time the god of fire, and, as such, formidable and destructive ; to escape the violence of this element sacrifices are offered him. Moloch, who appears also under the name Baal, requires victims in the first stage of their development, creatures still at the breast, the first-born of human beings included. There can be no doubt that in the expression ‘ to pass through the fire to Moloch ’ is implied the religious conception of the union of the created being with the godhead, and we are not inclined to deny that this notion is associated with the cosmic idea of tfie final conflagration of the universe, which is to be the dissolution of all things. Nevertheless this does not alter the fact that the worship of Moloch degenerated into a hideous idolatry, which debased the nations devoted to it, and never allowed the idea of man’s freedom and mastery over his own fate to develop itself. Learned investigations, render it doubtful whether Astarte, the goddess who is seen with her spear in her hand and with the attribute of her star, is to be identified with those* deities whose rites were celebrated amidst sexual excesses ; whether the Venus Urania who is associated with the cultus of Astarte was an entirely sensual divinity, an opinion which the balance of evidence supports, or in reality quite exempt from such taint. Even in Babylon, and still more at Ascalon, the worship of the gods was combined with customs revolting to every feeling of morality, and deeply degrading to the nature of woman. The frenzied and bewildering orgies connected with this conception of the deity spread from the two centres named above and took possession of the world. The most conspicuous service which natural science has rendered is that it has gradually dissipated the mist which these forms of nature worship were spreading over the world. This result, however, it could never have achieved unaided. It is therefore a capital error to suppose an opposition between natural science and religion. Without a pure religion, responding to the needs of the human spirit, and really accepted and believed, the scientific knowledge of nature and of man would not have been possible at all. The spiritual antithesis to Amon Ra and Baal, as well as to Apis and Moloch, is found in the idea expressed in the name Jehovah, as announced by Moses.

The history of the creation in Genesis is not merely a cosmogonic account of primitive date, but above all else it is an express counter-statement opposed to the conceptions of Egypt and of Babylon. The latter were formed in regions either naturally fertile or early animated by commercial intercourse; the Mosaic idea emerges upon the lonely heights of Sinai, which no terrestrial vicissitudes have ever touched, and where nothing interposes between God and the world.

With the Egyptians and Babylonians everything is developed from the innate powers of the sun, the stars, and the earth itself. Jehovah, on the other hand, appears as the Creator of heaven and earth, as both the originator and the orderer of the world. It would almost seem as if the assumption of a chaos, or, as it is given in a more modem version, a primeval flood, was not completely excluded; but this conception itself rested on the idea of a previous creation. The creation of man is the point in which all centres. With the Egyptians man is not distinguished in kind from the sun from which he issues rather as a product than as a creature, and the same is true of the Babylonian cosmogony, where the divine element in man is only revealed through the blood of a God chancing to fall down to earth. All creatures are generically the same with man. In the Mosaic cosmogony, on the other hand, the elements, plants, and animals are called into being by a supreme intelligent Will, which creates in the last place man after His own image. The divergence is immeasurable. God appears prominently as a Being independent of the created world ; He appears to the prophet in the fire, but yet is not the fire ; He is in the Word which is heard out of the fire. Speech is bestowed upon man, who gives each created thing its name. In this his pre-eminence consists ; for he alone, as Locke has remarked, possesses an innate faculty of framing an abstract idea of species, whereas other creatures can grasp nothing beyond the individual. Whilst the descent of some from the sun and others from the stars establishes a difference between man and man, creation by the breath of God makes all men equal. Under the Godhead as independent of the created world the dignity thus implanted in men appears, it might almost be said, as a principle of equality.

In a passage which criticism asserts to belong to the oldest form of the original account, to man is assigned lordship over the fishes of the sea, the fowls of the air, and all beasts which move upon the earth. This is a conception distinct from that prevalent in Egypt, where the bull is worshipped with divine honours as symbolising the creative power of nature. The idea of Jehovah, far from having arisen from nature worship, is set up in opposition to it. The Mosaic history of the creation is a manifesto against the idolatry which was predominant in the world. It is this opposition which gives to the national tradition of the Hebrews, beyond doubt an inestimable relic from times of remotest antiquity, its principal value.

The Hebrew memories cling to the ancestor of the race, who migrates with his flocks and herds from Northern Mesopotamia into Canaan, and forms a connection with the Hittites, the most important of the inhabitants of Canaan at that time, in consequence of which a portion of land is transferred to him, by purchase, for a sepulchre. Abraham receives, as the progenitor of a group of nations, a widespread reverence which has endured for centuries upon centuries. He is not, like the Egyptian kings, himself a god, but he is a friend of God. In this friendship he lays the foundations of his people. The traditional account has preserved some traits of him in which the ideas of the oldest religion in Canaan, before it became the national religion, are easily recognised.

Lot, brother’s son to Abraham, ancestor of the tribes of Moab and Ammon, and, like Abraham himself, a shepherd- prince and tribal chieftain, becomes embroiled in the wars of the petty princes in whose district he is settled, and is led away captive by the conqueror. The action of Abraham in consequence prefigures the later independence of Israel. Though dwelling in the dominions of another prince, he takes up arms with his family and dependants, and, overthrowing the victorious enemy, frees his brother’s son and restores him to his home. I do not venture to pronounce the whole of this story to be historical; to do so would be to substantiate too much that is miraculous and incredible. The essential point to note in the legend is the imposing figure which the patriarch presents among the native inhabitants of Canaan and the new intruders. With this, however, is associated another trait, which indicates a conception of more than merely national range. There is a chief, Melchizedek, whose authority extends over all these tribes and their princes. He blesses Abraham and brings him bread and wine. He is a priest of El Eljon, the Most High God, Lord of heaven and earth. The religion he professes is identical with that which the Israelites have always maintained. Under Abraham it appears as a higher religion of universally recognised authority. Abraham gives tithe to the priest king, whilst the latter praises God, who has given Abraham the victory. But, with the worshippers of Baal surrounding him on every side, even Abraham is tempted to give in his adherence to this system of worship, and, as a necessary consequence, to sacrifice his son. He has gone so far as to prepare to conform to this uSage, when the Most High God prevents by a miracle the completion of the sacrifice. The narrative of the victory and blessing of Abraham, and of the sacrifice thus frustrated, are the most splendid episodes in the five books of Moses, and amongst the most beautiful ever penned.

The essential truth which they embody is that in the midst of the Canaanitish population a powerful tribe arose, which clung tenaciously to the idea of the Most High God and rejected every temptation to pay honour to Baal-Moloch. The tribe which under Jacob, the son of Isaac and grandson of Abraham, grew into a great people, had soon to learn that there was no further sojourn for them in Canaan. They turned towards the fertile land of Egypt, with which Abraham had already had relations, and where, so runs the story, son Joseph, sold into Egypt by his brethren, had risen to a high station. Instances of similar success are found _tin the Egyptian inscriptions. The whole tribe found a refuge in the land of Goshen, where under the Pharaoh it enjoyed peace and could pasture its flocks. After a long sojourn, however, the duration of which we cannot determine, the posterity of Israel and his sons became aware that they could not tarry here either without completely forfeiting all they could call their own. The tribe was compelled to services which, though conformable to the religion and constitution of Egypt, were oppressive to all who did not acknowledge its authority.

It was at this time that Moses appeared among the people of Israel. Tradition consistently asserts that he was educated as an Egyptian in the house of a Pharaoh, and that, being unable any longer to tolerate the acts of violence to which his countrymen were exposed, he fell into a dispute on the subject with the natives of the country, slew one of them, and then took to flight. He was received by the Shepherd-kings in the neighbourhood of Egypt, whose tribes were related to his own, and pastured with them his flocks on Sinai. Eusebius says that he meditated philosophy in the desert, and many have felt that wonderful exaltation which man experiences when he finds himself in a wild and lonely region face to face with God. This exaltation reached its highest flight in Moses, when an exile for his people’s sake.

Here the God of his fathers appears to him ; he sees Him not, for he shrinks from the vision, but he hears Him, and receives the announcement of His name in the sublime words, ‘I am that I am.’ The Eternal Being opposes Himself to the phantom to whose service the world is devoted. The nation receives with joy the announcement of this manifestation. As in Canaan the service of Baal had been rejected for that of the Most High God, so here in Egypt arose the desire to find in the Most High God deliverance from the oppressive yoke of the Egyptian religion and of the monarchy of Thebes, the visible manifestation of Amon Ra. The Israelites asked from Pharaoh a short leave of absence, in order to worship their God in the place consecrated to Him. The permission was refused, and their migration began. The hymn of praise in which the miracle of the Exodus is extolled treats of the incident with great simplicity. ‘ Pharaoh’s chariots and his host He hath cast into the sea ; his chosen captains also are drowned in the Red Sea.’

Thus they reached those primeval heights where Moses had first spoken with the God of their fathers. It was his purpose to guide the people to that place where he had himself learnt to look beyond the horizon of the Egyptian forms of worship. The people encamped at the foot of the mountain, brought thither, as the voice of God says, by Himself upon eagles’ wings, and the great event approached its completion. The God who says of Himself, ‘The whole earth is mine,’purposes nevertheless to regard this nation as His especial property, and to fashion it into a kingdom of priests. The people draw near, adorned and prepared as befits the solemnity. From the foot of Sinai, after an ascent of some duration, the plateau of Er-Rahah expands to the view, shut in by rugged mountains of dark granite, crested by wild, jagged summits of rock towering one above the other—a scene of majestic and commanding solitude, to which the perpendicular wall of Horeb, from twelve to fifteen hundred feet in height, forms a dark and awful barrier.¹ The people are gathered in the valley, a solemn and mysterious region shut out from the world by mountains, and here the will of God is revealed.

God speaks and says, “I am the Lord thy God, which have brought thee out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage. Thou shalt have no other gods before me. Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth: thou shalt not bow down thyself to them, nor serve them”. It would be impossible to express more sharply the contrast with Egypt, where the worship of numerous deities prevailed, each of which was nevertheless intended to be an image of divine power. In this multiplicity of forms polytheism lost sight of the very idea out of which it had been developed, and was transformed into idolatry. In opposition to this was revealed the absolute idea of the pure Godhead, independent of all accident in the mode of its conception.

The Decalogue is the outcome of this thought. It has been held to be a defect that the moral law in the Decalogue is regarded as the command of the Legislator. This, however, is an essential and necessary feature ; no distinction could be made between religion, moral laws, and civil institutions. The sabbath, which was substituted for the innumerable festivals of the Egyptian nature worship, is associated with the creation as exhibited in the Mosaic cosmogony. The fact that even slaves are permitted to rest on the sabbath, implies the conception of a divine polity embracing all mankind, and involves a kind of emancipation from personal thraldom. These clauses are followed by the simplest civil enactments. A blessing is attached to the commandment to honour parents as the fundamental principle of family life. Marriage is held especially sacred ; while life and property are declared equally inviolable.

Thus, under the immediate protection of God, individual life enjoys those rights and immunities which are the foundation of all civil order. That which modern states call their constitution is but the development of this idea, this need of security for life and property. The Mosaic polity involves an opposition to kingship and its claim to be an emanation from the Deity. The contrast with Egypt is here most deeply marked. No more noble inauguration of the first principles of conduct in human society could have been conceived. Egypt receives additional importance from the fact that her tyranny developed in the emigrant tribes a character and customs in direct contrast to her own. No materials for a history of the human race could have been found in the unbroken continuity of a national nature worship. The first solid foundation for this is laid in the revolt against nature worship—in other words, in monotheism. On this principle is built a civil society which is alien to every abuse of power.

We have thus three great forms of religious worship appearing side by side—the local religion of the Egyptians, the universal nature worship of Baal, and the intellectual Godhead of Jehovah. Like the others, the worship of Jehovah required, and in fact possessed, a national basis. But that basis was supplied by a nation which had scarcely escaped from the bondage of the Egyptians, and which was neglected and unrecognised by the rest of the world. Moses had a continual struggle to maintain with the obstinacy of the multitude, who began to regret Egypt after their departure. It was his achievement that the nation, so feeble at the time of its escape from Egypt, developed after a series of years, long indeed, but not too long for such a result, into a genuine military power, well inured to arms. Yet the first generation had to die out before the Israelites could entertain the hope of acquiring a territory of their own. A claim was suggested by the sojourn of the patriarchs in the land of Canaan during which they had obtained possessions of their own. Moses himself led them to make the claim. This implies no hostility to Egypt. The direction taken was in reality the same as that adopted by the Pharaohs, who failed, however, to reach the goal. In the endeavour to picture to ourselves this struggle we are embarrassed rather than aided by the religious colouring of the narrative. The Most High God, the Creator of the world, was now considered as the national God of the Hebrews, and justly so; for without the Hebrews the worship of Jehovah would have had no place in the world. The war of the Israelites is represented as the war of Jehovah. The tradition is interwoven with miracles. The aged seer on the enemy’s side is compelled, against his will, to bless Israel, instead of cursing him ; the Israelites cross the Jordan dry- shod ; an angel of the Lord appears to the captain of the host in the character of a constant though invisible ally; the walls of Jericho fall at the blast of trumpets. A disaster soon afterwards experienced is traced to the fact that a portion of the spoil—gold, silver, copper, and iron—destined for Jehovah has been kept back and buried by one who has broken his oath. The crime is terribly avenged upon the culprit and his whole house, and thereupon one victory follows after another. In the decisive battle with the Amor- ites, Jehovah prolongs the day at the prayer of the captain of the host. The conquest is regarded as a victory of Jehovah Himself, whose name would otherwise have once more been effaced.

Besides its religious aspect, the event has another and a purely human side, which the historical inquirer, whose business it is to explain events by human motives, is bound to bring into prominence.. It is especially to be noticed that the condition of the land of Canaan as depicted in the Book of Joshua corresponds in the main to the statements respecting it in the Egyptian inscriptions. The country was occupied by a number of independent tribes, under princes who called themselves kings. The necessity of combined resistance to the Egyptian invasion united them for a time; but the danger was no sooner over than they relapsed into their former independence. They were compelled, however, to make a combined effort against Israel, who, though formerly unable to maintain his position amongst them, now returned in a later generation to take possession of his old abode—much as the Heracleids did at a later date in Peloponnesus, though, as we shall see, with some essential difference. The Israelitish tribes had developed into a brave and numerous confederacy of warriors, united and inspired by the idea of their God, whom they formerly worshipped in Canaan, and who had brought them out of Egypt. Even under Moses they were strong enough to seek an encounter with one of the most powerful tribes upon its own soil. This was the tribe of the Amorites, already mentioned also in connection with the struggle with Egypt.

The immediate occasion for this attack was found by Moses in the division between the Amorites and Moabites, the latter of whom claimed a nearer tribal relationship to the Hebrews than the former. The Amorite domain consisted of the two petty kingdoms of Heshbon and Bashan. In the language of an ancient lyric poem, ‘ fire had gone forth from Heshbon and had wasted Moab ; ’ in other words, Moab had been embroiled in a war with the Amorites, in which he had been defeated. In this contest Moses interfered. The King of Heshbon, who marched with his whole people to encounter him, suffered a defeat. Og, King of Bashan, bestirred himself too late ; he also was conquered. A tradition found in Josephus affirms that the invading forces from the desert owed their superiority over their enemies to the use of slings. The victory was followed by the sacking of the towns and the occupation of the country. Those tribes were treated with especial severity which had anciently been in league with Israel, such as the Midianites. Moab himself was already in dread of Israel. Thus Moses subdued the country beyond the Jordan, and formed a plan according to which the region which he claimed for the tribes was to be divided amongst them.

It was his aim that the idea by the power of which he had led them out from Egypt should continue to form the central point of their spiritual and political life. Moses is the most exalted figure in all primitive history. The thought of God as an intellectual Being, independent of all material existence, was seized by him and, so to speak, incorporated in the nation which he led. Not, of course, that the nation and the idea were simply coextensive. The idea of the Most High God as He revealed Himself on Horeb is one for all times and all nations; an idea of a pure and infinite Being, which admits of no such limitation, but which nevertheless inspires every decree of the legislator, every undertaking of the captain of the host. Moses may ,be called the schoolmaster of his people ; he redeems them from slavery, organises them for peace and war, and then leads them out of Egypt under the inducement of the promise that they shall obtain possession of their ancient inheritance. It is thus that tradition represents him. But it was not his privilege to complete the conquest of the country which he had designed and commenced. He laid his hands upon Joshua the son of Nun, who executed the task for which he is thus designated. Amon Ra had abandoned the struggle against Baal, it being impossible that a religion under local limitations should bring the world beneath its sway. The situation was completely changed when a newly disciplined host, carrying with it the tabernacle as the visible token of its covenant with Jehovah, undertook the struggle. It was, however, inevitable that at the outset, in accordance with the spirit of the age, everything should be effected at the sword’s point. The Israelites made war much as the Egyptians did, only perhaps with more violence and less mercy.

Let us trace the principal incidents of this great enterprise. Joshua crossed the Jordan without opposition, and halted near Gilgal, where he renewed the rite of circumcision according to the example of Abraham. The practice was of a nature to distinguish the people from the Canaanites; it was in reality an Egyptian rite, for the Jews adopted from the Egyptians everything which was compatible with a religion in which nature worship had no part. The Jewish army was superior in numbers, in military training, and the impulse supplied by a great idea. Jericho, the great city towards which Moses had turned his dying eyes, fell into the hands of Joshua. The other city, Ai, was conquered by means of an ambuscade ; whilst the inhabitants were fighting with and pursuing the main army their city was taken by another force in their rear, and they saw the town suddenly bursting into flames behind them. In the panic that ensued they were vanquished and put to the sword.

These successes were attended by a double result. The Gibeonites, terrified by the annihilation which the conquerors inflicted, begged for mercy and an alliance, a prayer granted on condition that they should acknowledge Jehovah. The rest were inflamed with hatred against the apostates. Summoned to their assistance, Joshua advanced by night, and defeated by a sudden and unexpected attack the main army of his antagonists. The princes who led their tribes to the war concealed themselves after their defeat in a cave. Here they were discovered. The captains of Israel placed their feet, in the literal sense of the words, upon the necks of the kings ; the five kings were then hanged on five trees. And so, says the original account, ‘Joshua smote all the country of the hills, and of the south, and of the vale, and of the springs, and all their kings; he left none remaining, but utterly destroyed all that breathed, even as the Lord God of Israel commanded.’ The victorious army then resumed its position at Gilgal, till a number of other princes and tribes took up arms against them and marshalled their forces near Lake Merom, through which the upper Jordan flows. Joshua marched against them without delay. He succeeded in surprising and routing them, and so completely annihilated them in the pursuit that not one of the host escaped. Their war chariots were burnt, their horses houghed. The power of the Israelites lay in their infantry and their weapons, the spear and the sling. All the cities which rose against them were captured. The principal city, Hazor, was ‘burnt with fire;’ the rest were left standing upon their hills, but in these also everything that drew breath was destroyed. A harsh spirit of violence and repression broods over the whole narrative. Everything has to die to make room for the Israelites.

According to this account the result is decided by two sudden attacks, one near Gibeon upon the five kings who had risen to chastise the Gibeonites, the other near Lake Merom upon the inhabitants who combined to expel Israel from the country. In military achievements, such as the passage of the river, which none ventured to oppose, the erection of a camp as a standing menace to the country in all directions, the rapid march of Joshua against Gibeon in one direction and afterwards against Merom in another, both being attacks upon an unprepared enemy, we have a series of strategetic exploits which resulted in the conquest of the country. It has the character of an occupation, and was accompanied with few exceptions by wholesale destruction. The religious spirit which inspired the conquerors is indicated by the miracles of which the traditional account is full. We see, by combining the inscriptions of Rameses-Miamun with the national relations discernible from sacred writ, that the Israelites succeeded in an attempt in which Rameses suffered shipwreck. The confederation of Canaanitish, or, as we ought beyond doubt to call them, Amoritish, tribes, before which the Egyptian prince gave way, was shattered and annihilated by Joshua. A greater importance belongs to the historic Joshua than to the fabulous Sesostris. The Israelites, however, cannot be regarded as acting designedly in alliance with the Egyptians; for in this interval the Egyptians and the Canaanites had come to terms. Moses had severed himself from the Egyptians. It was his special achievement to force an entrance into Canaan, and to seize upon a portion from which the whole country could be. subdued; and this is the purport of those deep and mysterious words which he is represented as having spoken before he died. The partition of the country among the Israelites was carried out after the victories of Joshua. Although made by lot, it has an oracular character, as made before the ark of the covenant at Shiloh. It cannot be regarded as a complete occupation. The localities which the separate tribes occupy are, so to speak, militaiy positions, taken up with the view of carrying out and completing the conquest according to the scheme laid down beforehand.

The march of the tribes was at the same time arranged, on military principles. The tribe of Levi was near the tabernacle, in the centre ; the others were ranged according to the points of the compass, Judah towards the east, Reuben towards the south, Ephraim towards the west, Dan towards the north. On the march the two first preceded, the rest followed the tabernacle, all under their banners with the ensigns of their tribes. It was a host of families in migration, a single caste, all alike warriors; the tribe set apart for the service of the sanctuary had no precedence.

Upon the occupation of the country the sanctuary remained established at Shiloh, the site of which is still recognized by the ruins of its buildings.¹ The ark of the covenant was at first entrusted to the tribe of Ephraim, which extended northwards over the mountain range which bears its name, without however becoming completely master of the province assigned to it. Gezer, for example, which we find later on as a well-regulated kingdom of small extent, remained Canaanite. Joshua was of the tribe of Ephraim. Sychem seems to have been the chief seat of the secular power. It was the place purchased by Jacob, where the household gods of Laban were buried and to which the bones of Joseph were brought. At a later time it was the centre of the northern kingdom. ' North of Sychem was settled the half-tribe of Manasseh, with an admixture) however, of Ephraimites, and inclosing within its borders five Canaanitish towns. Benjamin adjoined Ephraim to the south, a territory the small extent of which was, as Josephus tells us, compensated by its great fertility. Here was situated Jebus, the Jerusalem of a later date, which the Benjamites in vain attempted to conquer. Next in power to Ephraim comes the tribe of Judah, whose portion was upon the southern mountain-range, the abode of the most warlike of the hostile nations, where the struggle continued later than elsewhere. Judah could only occupy the hill country, not the plains, the inhabitants of which used chariots of iron. Simeon and Dan were under the protection of Judah. An especially bold and enterprising character is ascribed to the tribe of Dan, But, like Judah, it could only obtain possession of the hill country, beyond which for a considerable period it did not venture. To the north of Ephraim were settled the tribes of Issachar and Naphtali, with Zebulon and Asher extending along the western bank of the Jordan. But of Naphtali it is said, ‘ He dwelt, among the Canaanites. Zebulon had two Canaanitish towns, within its territories. The province of Asher was a narrow strip on the coast of the Phoenician Sea ; the task of conquering Sidon, which properly fell to it, it could never dream of attempting, and six towns remained unconquered within its province. Reuben, Gad, and the half-tribe of Manasseh dwelt east of the Jordan in a region of forests and pasture lands.

The appearance of the Israelites upon the scene of history has been compared with that of the Arabs under Mohammed, and the identity of religious and national feeling in both cases establishes a certain analogy between them. But the distinction is this: that the Arabs being in contact with great kingdoms, and themselves far more powerful than the Israelites, were able to meditate the conquest of the world. The Israelites at first only sought a dwelling-place, for which they had to struggle with kingdoms of small area but considerable vitality. Their position may rather be compared with the conquistas of the Spaniards on the Pyrenean peninsula, isolated districts destined to form the basis of a future conquest.

The Israelites occupied the mountain regions, as the Amorites had done before them ; but, like the Amorites, they encountered a vigorous and energetic resistance. First of all, the kindred populations of the Ammonites, and Moabites, who thought themselves encroached on by the Israelites, rose against them ; then the Midianites, themselves also inhabitants of the desert, invaded, though already once conquered by Israel, the districts occupied by the latter. A powerful prince made his appearance from Mesopotamia, and ruled a great part of these districts and populations for some time. On the sea-coast we find the Philistines settled in five cities, each of which obeys its own king, but which formed together one community with a peculiar religious character. Against these assaults, which are, however, nothing but the reaction against their earlier campaigns, the Israelites had to maintain themselves. The worship of Baal, with which the Egyptians had already contended, maintained its ground with a vigour which the struggle itself intensified and perpetuated, and was often, as the Book of Judges complains, a dangerous rival to the God whose name Israel professed. Against it the warlike tribes found their best weapon in adhesion to the god of their fathers. The leaders who kept them firm in this resolve appear under the name shophetim, a term explained to mean ‘ champions of national right.’ In the book dedicated to their exploits, the Book of Judges, some of the most distinguished among them are portrayed with some natural admixture of myth, but with clearly marked lineaments.

We read of whole decades of peace, then of disturbance raised by foreign powers. At one time princes whose dominions are of large extent attempt to impose an oppressive bondage ; at another, neighbouring races with ancient ties of affinity push far into the heart of the country and' once more occupy the City of Palms, the ancient Jericho. At times also the native inhabitants, once vanquished, renew their league. Then great men, or sometimes women, come forward to decide the issue by force or stratagem. The traditional account, always perfectly honest, never refuses its grateful praise to deliverances effected by actions which would otherwise excite abhorrence. Sometimes we have men who execute deeds such as that perpetrated many centuries afterwards by Clement upon Henry III, or women who avail themselves of the exhaustion of a hostile general to put him to a horrible death by piercing his temples. We recognise an imperilled nationality, ready to employ any means, whatever their character, to save its existence and its religion.

The struggle without runs parallel with an internal strife, decided in the same violent spirit. A hideous crime committed in the tribe of Benjamin is chastised by the ruin of that tribe. The whole nation rises. Whilst race is thus pitted against race, and conflicting religious ideas wrestle for predominance, some notably colossal forms become conspicuous. The first of these is Deborah, who was judging the people under the palm tree of Deborah on Mount Ephraim when a new king arose in Hazor, the district conquered by Joshua near Lake Merom. Jehovah delivered up His people to this prince for their chastisement. ‘The inhabitants of the villages ceased, they ceased in Israel, until that I, Deborah, arose, that I arose a mother in Israel.’ At her summons an army of all the northern tribes gathered together on Mount Tabor; she herself was present and celebrated in a noble song the victory which the Israelites achieved over the heavy-armed forces and war-chariots of the enemy. The song begins with the words, ‘Praise ye the Lord for the avenging of Israel when the people willingly offered themselves.’ It is a grand mystic ode, an historical relic of the first rank.

Another no less notable character is Gideon, of the tribe of Manasseh. The Midianites and other children of the east had overflowed the country and destroyed the crops. Israel was compelled to take refuge in the mountain glens, and in his turn to protect himself behind walls and ramparts. The summons comes to Gideon whilst threshing his wheat in the wine-press under the terebinth of his father. He overthrows the altar of Baal, at which the people in the neighbourhood have already begun to worship, and kindles in its place a burnt offering to Jehovah. At the sound of his trumpets Manasseh gathers round him. Of the whole number, however, he retains only three hundred, sifted from the rest by a certain act of self-restraint. Their onset with the sound of trumpets and the flashing of torches throws the enemy into confusion and causes his rout. Upon this the northern tribes gather themselves, particularly the Ephraimites, who are displeased that they were not summoned sooner ; they seize all the fords of the river, once more smite the Midianites at the rock Oreb, and slay their leaders, Oreb and Zeeb. Gideon crosses the Jordan, and takes prisoner the last of the Midianitish princes ; he extirpates the worship of Baal on all sides, and earns the name of ‘ Jerub-baal.’ After he has rescued his countrymen from their most pernicious enemy, they offer him dominion over Israel, for himself and his posterity. Gideon answers, ‘ I will not rule over you ; neither shall my son rule over you : Jehovah shall rule over you.’ Deborah and Gideon are the two grandest figures in the book. They belong to the tribes which trace their origin to Joseph and his Egyptian wife.

An extraordinary character appears in Samson, who belongs to the small but warlike tribe of Dan. Even before his birth he is dedicated to the service of Jehovah by heaven-sent tokens. His strength is irresistible as soon as the Spirit of God comes upon him. He wars against the Philistines, who have already obtained an advantage and even dominion over Israel. He succumbs, however, to their cunning. The name of the woman who enchains him, Delilah, signifies traitress. In his death all his energy and feeling are concentrated. His enemies have put out his eyes. ‘ Let me die with these Philistines,’ he exclaims, and pulls down the pillars which support the house in which they are gathered together, burying himself under the ruins. The action is, like many others in this narrative, at once grandiose and bizarre. In substance it may be called the self-devotion of a strength consecrated to God.

Yet the situation was strangely reversed. The conquerors were compelled to be on the defensive; the Philistines, strengthened by the native tribes who, on being expelled by the Israelites, had taken refuge with them, achieved once more a victory. The ark of the covenant itself fell into their hands. At the news of this the high priest Eli, then aged ninety-eight years, fell from his chair and died. It would seem that Shiloh itself was laid waste. Though the ark of the covenant, an unblest possession to those who laid violent hands upon it, was restored to the Israelites by the Philistines, and again set up on the hill near Gibeon, yet the conquerors maintained their hold of the subjugated districts. The gods cf the Philistines, Baal and Astarte, whom they led with them to the field, seemed to have won the victory over Jehovah. The ark was at one time kept as it were prisoner in the temple of the fish god, Dagon, but at length it was given back. Now, if ever, was the time for the national and religious spirit in Israel to rouse itself. But no one appeared again in the character at once of judge and warrior, to protect the people by force of arms. It was the Levite Samuel, a prophet dedicated to God even before his birth, who recalled them to the consciousness of religious feeling. He succeeded in removing the emblems of Baal and Astarte from the heights and in paving the way for renewed faith in Jehovah. The struggle which now began was preceded by fasts and religious services. The Israelites succeeded so far as to be able to raise a trophy at Mizpeh;¹ thence the prophet removed to Gilgal, the base of operations in time past during the campaigns of conquest.

This measure of success was not, however, enough for the people ; a great part of their territory was still in the hands of the enemy, and this they could not hope to recover under the leadership of the prophet. It was the feeling of the people that they could only carry on the war upon the system employed by all their neighbours. They demanded a king—a request very intelligible under existing circumstances, but one which nevertheless involved a wide and significant departure from the impulses which had hitherto moved the Jewish community and the forms in which it had shaped itself. It had been proclaimed on Horeb that Jehovah had chosen Israel to Himself as His own possession, and the last of the victorious heroes had declined the kingdom offered to him, on the ground that Jehovah should be King over His people. The neighbouring kings were for the most part tribal chieftains, who boasted a divine origin—an idea which could find no place in Israel. In particular it was difficult to determine the relations between the prophet, through whom the Divine Will was especially revealed, and the king, to whom an independent authority over all, without exception, must of necessity be conceded.

This question is one of the highest importance as affecting all embodiments of monarchical power in later times. The spontaneous action of a free community and the will of God as proclaimed by the prophet were now to be associated with 'a. third and independent factor, a royal power which could claim no hereditary title. The Israelites demanded a king, not only to go before them and fight their battles, but also to judge them. They no longer looked for their preservation to the occasional efforts of the prophetic order and the ephemeral existence of heroic leaders. On the other hand, it was doubtful what prerogatives should be assigned to a king. The argument by which Samuel, as the narrative records, seeks to deter the people from their purpose, is that the king will encroach upon the freedom of private life which they have hitherto enjoyed, employing their sons and daughters in his service, whether in the palace or in war, exacting tithes, taking the best part of the land for himself, and regarding all as his bondsmen. In this freedom of tribal and family life lay the essence of the Mosaic constitution. But the danger that all may be lost is so pressing that the people insist upon their own will in opposition to the prophet. Nevertheless without the prophet nothing can be done, and it is he who selects from the youth of the country the man who is to enjoy the new dignity in Israel. He finds himself alone with him one day, having ordered the rest to retire, that he might declare to him the word of God, and pours the vial of oil upon his head with the words, ‘Behold, Jehovah hath anointed thee to be captain over His inheritance.’ The language is remarkable, as implying that the property of Jehovah in His people is reserved to Him. It was not the conception of the monarchy prevalent among the neighbouring Canaanitish tribes which here found expression ; for the essential character of the old constitution of Israel was at the same time preserved. The ceremony of anointing was perhaps adopted from Egypt. On the Egyptian monuments, at any rate, gods are to be seen anointing their king. The monarchy springs not merely from conditions which are part of the actual and present experience of the nation, but is at the same time a gift from God.

At first the proceeding had but a doubtful result. Many despised a young man sprung from the smallest family of the smallest tribe of Israel, as one who could give them no real assistance. In order to make effective the conception of the kingly office thus assigned to him, it was necessary in the first place that he should gain for himself a personal reputation. A king of the Ammonites, a tribe in affinity to Israel, laid siege to Jabesh in Gilead, and burdened the proffered surrender of the place with the condition that he should put out the right eyes of the inhabitants. It was clear that, if no one rescued them, they would have to submit even to this hideous condition. Such an event would be an insult to all Israel. Saul, the son of Kish, a Benjamite, designated by the prophet as king, but not as yet recognised as such, was engaged, as Gideon before him, in his rustic labours, when he learnt the situation through the lamentations of the people.

The narrative abounds with symbolic actions, each expressive of some great underlying truth. Seized with the idea of his mission, Saul cuts in pieces a yoke of oxen, and sends the portions to the twelve tribes with the threat, ‘ Whosoever cometh not forth after Saul and after Samuel, so shall it be done unto his oxen.’ We see from this that the imminent danger is not in itself a sufficient incentive, but requires to be supported by the menace of punishment at the hand of the new ruler to those who hang back. Thus urged, however, Israel combines like one man; Jabesh is rescued and Saul acknowledged as king. This recognition takes place before Jehovah in the old camp at Gilgal, where soon after a victory is achieved over the Philistines. Their camp at Michmash, at the exit of a rocky pass leading down into the Jordan valley in the direction of Gilgal, is taken by the son of Saul, the Israelites who are found in it passing over to his side. With the recognition of the king, however, and the progress of his good fortune, a new and disturbing element appears. A contest breaks out between him and the prophet, in which we recognise not so much opposition as jealousy between the two powers.

The earlier judges had been prophets as well, and had themselves offered the sacrifices. Now, however, a prophet and a military leader of regal authority are associated together. In the presence of a fresh danger, in which the battle is to be preceded by the sacrifice, the king, as the prophet delays to appear, presumes himself to minister at the altar. This the prophet declares to be a great transgression, and at once announces that another has been found to occupy the place of Saul. But it requires a second incident to fan the quarrel to a flame. Saul has conquered Moab, Ammon, Edom, and the Philistines ; the devastations cease ; he possesses the hearts of the people, but cannot reconcile himself with the prophet. In the war against Amalek the prophet, in the old spirit of stern and uncompromising hostility to the neighbouring races, has cursed everything, men, women, children, infants at the breast, oxen and sheep, camels and asses. The Amalekites, although descended from Esau, and therefore no less than the Ammonites of kindred race with Israel, had opposed the latter on their approach from Egypt under the guidance of Jehovah. The war is carried on with the memory of this opposition still fresh in the minds of the Israelites, and the enemy is now to be punished by complete annihilation. Saul obtains the victoiy, and obeys, but not without some reservation, the cruel injunction of the prophet. He spares the hostile king, and, being reluctant to destroy the good and useful part of the plunder which has been obtained, takes it with him on his homeward march. ‘What meaneth,’ says Samuel, ‘ this bleating of the sheep in mine ears, and the lowing of the oxen which I hear ? Because thou hast rejected the word of the Lord he hath also rejected thee from being king.’ He hews the captive king in pieces with his own hand before the sanctuary in Gilgal. From that day he sees Saul no more.

If we endeavour to realise the exact motive of this quarrel, it would appear to be this: that whilst the king and commander asserted his distinctive right to strike a blow at the proper moment and not to destroy but to dispose of the booty, the prophet, holding firmly by the traditional practice, set himself against the new right so claimed with all the ferocity of the old times.

On the one side was the independent power of monarchy, which looks to the requirements of the moment, on the other the prophet’s tenacious and unreserved adherence to tradition. Another ground of quarrel is to be found in the natural desire of the king to leave the throne as a heritage to his posterity, while the prophet claimed to dispose of the succession as it might seem best to him. The relations between the tribes have also some bearing on the question. Hitherto Ephraim had led the van, and jealously insisted on its prerogative. Saul was of Benjamin, a tribe nearly related to Ephraim by descent. He had made the men of his own tribe captains, and had given them vineyards. On the other hand the prophet chose Saul’s successor from the tribe of Judah. This successor was David, the son of Jesse, one already distinguished as victor in a single combat with the giant whom no one else ventured to encounter, but whom in spite of his panoply he overthrew with his sling. He had obtained access to the house of the king, whose melancholy he succeeded in charming by the music of his harp, and had won the friendship of his son and the love of his daughter. A peculiar complication results from the fact that Jonathan, the son of Saul, to whom the crown would have passed in the natural course of things, protected his friend David from the acts of violence to which his father, who could not endure David’s presence any longer, gave way in the interest of this very son. In the opposition which now begins we have on the one side the prophet and his anointed, who aim at maintaining the religious authority in all its aspects, on the other the champion and deliverer of the nation, who, abandoned by the faithful, turns for aid to the powers of darkness and seeks knowledge of the future through witchcraft. Saul is the first tragic personage in the history of the world.

David took refuge with the Philistines. Among them he lived as an independent military chieftain, and was joined not only by opponents of the king, but by others, ready for any service, or, in the language of the original, ‘men armed with bows, who could use both the right hand and the left in hurling stones and shooting arrows out of a bow.’ The Philistines were for the most part better armed than the Israelites; the latter had first to learn to use the sword, and the troop of freebooters was the school of the hero David. In the difficult situation resulting from the fact that the Philistines were protecting him whilst his own king was against him, David displayed no less prudence and circumspection than enterprising boldness. In any serious war against the Israelites, such as actually broke out, the Sarim of the Philistines would not have tolerated him amongst them. David preferred to engage in a second attack upon the Amalekites, the common enemy of Philistines and Jews. At this juncture Israel was defeated by the Philistines. The king’s sons were slain; Saul, in danger of falling into the enemy’s hands, slew himself. Meanwhile David with his freebooters had defeated the Amalekites, and torn from their grasp the spoil they had accumulated, which was now distributed in Judah. Soon after the death of Saul is announced. David, however, had not for a moment forgotten that Saul, through the anointing hand of the prophet, had acquired an inviolable dignity, one in his eyes of the highest sanctity. The Amalekite who informed him of the death of Saul was put to death by his order for having laid his hand upon the Lord’s anointed ; for the messenger had asserted that, at the fallen king’s entreaty, he had given him the death blow.’ In David’s song of lamentation, again, plaint is made to Jehovah because disgrace had fallen upon Saul, ‘as though he had not been anointed with oil.’ For it was only the succession of his son which the prophet had opposed his sovereignty which he possessed had remained unassailed. The song of David is incomparable; it contains nothing but praise and appreciation of his enemy, and once more his friendship with Jonathan is conspicuous in it.

David, conscious of being the rightful successor of Saul— for on him too, long ere this, the unction had been bestowed— betook himself to Hebron, the seat of the ancient Canaanitish kings, which had subsequently been given up to the priests and made one of the cities of refuge. It was in the province of Judah ; and there, the tribe of Judah assisting at the ceremony, David was once more anointed. This tribe alone, however, acknowledged him ; the others, especially Ephraim and Benjamin, attached themselves to Ishbosheth, the surviving son of Saul. And here lay the essential question. Saul had been acknowledged as king not only because of his anointing, but in consequence of that deliverance of the country which he had effected. The conflict which the complex idea of the monarchy involved was again renewed. The majority of the tribes insisted, even after the death of Saul, on the right of lineal succession. The first passage of arms between the two hosts took place between twelve of the tribe of Benjamin and twelve of David’s men-at-arms. It led, however, to no result; it was a mutual slaughter, so complete as to leave no survivor.

But in the more serious struggle which succeeded this the troops of David, trained as they were in warlike undertakings of great daring as well as variety, won the victory over Ishbosheth ; and as the unanointed king could not rely upon the complete obedience of his commander-in-chief, who considered himself as important as his master, David step by step won the upper hand. He had the magnanimity not to exult over the ruin of his enemies, though it prepared his own way to the throne. The elders of the tribes came to Hebron. In accordance with the old prophetic direction, which they now obeyed, the anointing of David as king over all Israel took place, He had neither forced the tribes to do this nor conquered their territory; they came in to him of their own accord. Yet the supremacy of the king was not unlimited. It is said ‘the elders made a covenant with him.’ Their principal motive was that, even whilst his predecessor was still reigning, David had done most for his people, and thus God had designated him as captain over Israel.

The Benjamites had been the heart and soul of the opposition which David experienced. Nevertheless the first action which he undertook as acknowledged king of all the tribes redounded specially to their advantage, whilst it was at the same time a task of the utmost importance for the whole Israelitish commonwealth. Although Joshua had conquered the Amorites, one of their strongholds, Jebus, still remained unsubdued, and the Benjamites had exerted all their strength against it in vain. It was to this point that David next directed his victorious arms. Having conquered the place, he transferred the seat of his kingdom thither without delay. This seat is Jerusalem ; the word Zion has the same meaning as Jebus. This must be considered as one of the most important of David’s achievements. It made him master of Benjamin, and was a considerable advance upon the possession in Judah of Hebron alone, whilst at the same time the fortress which he had occupied might become a centre of union for the whole people.

We understand how powerful the Philistines were in the neighbourhood of the capital when we find it recorded that a position which controlled it was still in their hands. While king of Judah, David had continued his alliance with them ; as king of Israel he became their enemy. They marched of their own accord against him, and encamped in the high plateau of Rephaim over against Moriah. David twice fiercely assaulted them. The rustling in the tops of the balsam trees he regarded as a token of the personal presence of Jehovah. Thereupon he attacked his powerful enemy again, and drove him back into his own frontiers as far as Gaza. The Philistine idols fell into his hands. It was the warriors trained in his earlier struggles and expeditions who obtained for him the victory. Thus supported his kingdom was firm, and in Zjon, the city of David, as it is called, he was now able to build himself a splendid palace of the cedars of Lebanon. Thither too he brought the sanctuary of the law, the ark of the covenant. Of any part taken by the priesthood in directing this transference of the sanctuary the oldest account knows nothing. David himself offered the sacrifice, and there was no Samuel at hand to interfeie with him. He had this immeasurable advantage over Saul, that king and prophet were united in his person. This twofold character is reflected in such of the psalms as can, with some probability, be referred to him. There also we can study the soul of a prince engaged in a struggle which every moment threatens him with destruction. ‘Before me stand all His judgments : I removed not His commandments from me. Through Thee I have discomfited hosts of men. Who is God save Jehovah, who hath girded my hands to war ? ’

Having made himself supreme within the Israelitish camp, David now directed his arms against his still implacable neighbours. Again and again he encountered the Philistines; nor could they make direct complaint of this, for, even whilst he was under their protection, they were well aware that he was the fore-ordained successor of the king with whom they were at war. The Philistines had hitherto been superior to the Israelites through their better equipment; but the heroes of David were especially famous for the dexterity and success with which they made use of their weapons. We may mention cases in which their prowess is exaggerated, when this exaggeration is characteristic. One of the heroes of David is famed for having brandished his spear over eight hundred of his slaughtered foes; another for having wielded his sword so long that his hand became rigid and clutched it still involuntarily; a third for the bravery with which, when the battle seemed lost, he held his ground till he had struck down hundreds of the enemy with his spear. The Egyptians also appear as their antagonists, but were conquered in a primitive manner in a hand to hand encounter, such as those which the Egyptian inscriptions occasionally mention. A powerful Egyptian warrior advances with his spear against his Israelitish antagonist, who rushes to encounter him armed only with a staff, tears his javelin from his grasp and slays him with it. These men had also to contend with the wild beasts of the desert, and David’s heroes, like himself, tested their strength in combat with lions. Thus grew up a courageous race, inured to war.

This race, as soon as it had no longer anything further to fear from the Philistines, threw itself into the struggle with its other hostile neighbours, retaining throughout the conviction that its wars were the wars of Jehovah. We recognise the disposition of David when we read that he declined to refresh himself with a draught of water, which his mighty men had fetched him at great personal risk from a well, but poured it out unto Jehovah, as not desiring that his brave followers should shed their blood for him ; but it was no less clearly seen when, after vanquishing Moab and Ammon, both nations addicted to fire-worship, he showed no trace of mercy towards them. Two-thirds of the Moabites were put to death, whilst the vanquished warriors of Ammon were thrown down like corn upon the threshing-floor and slaughtered, and their remains consumed with fire. Meanwhile David triumphantly placed the golden and jewelled crown of Ammon upon his own head. He was not disposed to incur the guilt of compassion, in showing which Saul had disobeyed the prophet and brought on his own ruin. Perhaps the most marked distinction between Saul and David is, that whilst Saul endeavoured to sever himself from the strict rules of the Israelitish religion, David clung tenaciously to the violent methods which had distinguished the first conquest. Thus in Edom, again, he caused every living thing of the male sex to be destroyed ; only one scion of the royal house of Esau escaped and took refuge in Egypt.

It is obvious that these changes involved a complete revolution in the land of Canaan. In the place of that confederation of tribes, no longer able to protect its sanctuary, disconnected and intermingled with hostile elements, a powerful kingdom had arisen, which ejected everything foreign, and, having obtained by a sudden stroke a commanding site for the religion of Jehovah, proceeded at once to subjugate the kindred nations, These, however, were connected with other neighbours who could not look on quietly and see them destroyed, and the flames of war, once kindled, spread far and wide.

A position of high importance had been occupied from the earliest times by Damascus, an oasis which the skill of its inhabitants had converted into a kind of paradise. It was a central point for the caravan traffic of Western Asia, where the great commercial route, which led thither from Babylon, branched into two arms, one of which went to Egypt, the other to Phoenicia. Phoenicia was at that time at the height of her commercial prosperity, and extended her traffic to the remotest west, whilst she kept up relations with the furthest east by means of the caravans of Babylon. It may be said that in Damascus East and West met together ; it was one of the richest seats of commerce in the ancient world. A.t this epoch it was governed by a Syro-Aramaic prince, with" whom David came into collision. It was not so much a religious interest as one partly military, partly commercial that drew him in this direction. If the twelve tribes and their king could obtain possession of Damascus they would gain a commanding position in Western Asia. They saw a new world expanding to their view, very different from that of Canaan. David’s attack upon Damascus may be regarded as an undertaking decisive for the power of Israel. At first it was perfectly successful. The king conquered Damascus. Copper, which may have come from Cyprus, gold, perhaps brought from India, were the booty of the conqueror. He used them to beautify the worship of Jehovah, which he had established in the neighbourhood of his citadel. David everywhere placed garrisons in the towns, and, being master of Syria as well as of Palestine, was now exceedingly formidable. At a muster of all the tribes from Dan to Beersheba it was found that the number of valiant men who drew the sword amounted to one million three hundred thousand. It is clear that David could at any juncture bring a considerable force into the field. The Phoenicians, masters of the trade of the world, sought his friendship. From other neighbours, as indeed was inevitable, he experienced much hostility. Nevertheless it was within his own kingdom of the twelve tribes that real opposition to him first arose.

Never was a nation worse adapted than the Jewish nation to create an empire by conquest. Tribal feeling was the leart and soul of their constitution. Jehovah suffered no other gods besides Himself; it was not easy to govern in His name nations who worshipped other gods. A strong nonarchy was utterly repugnant to the habits of the tribes. Accustomed to a peaceful rule—for the supremacy of the udges ceased to exist as soon as victory was achieved—they found that change of constitution which was involved in the permanent authority of a king an extremely oppressive one. They had not asked for a king that they might subjugate foreign nations, but only that they might the better defend themselves, and, this secured, all they wanted was a righteous judge to whom to refer their own disputes. Now, however, they found a kind of military government established. The Gibborim constituted a class of warlike and powerful magnates, with the advantage of a distinct organization, as captains over bodies of twenty or two hundred under :he absolute control of a commander-in-chief. There was also a body guard whose appellations of executioners and runners indicate that it was their duty to see the king’s commands carried out The king’s decisions excited various complaints, for which those about his person were held responsible. It is quite intelligible that the tribes who did not come over to David’s side until some time after the death of Saul, and who had never forgotten their own king, should have been stirred by such causes into a ferment of discontent. But the tribe of Judah also, upon whose support David’s power rested, was displeased, so much so that Absalom, the most influential of the king’s sons, could entertain the design of raising himself to the royal power Even in his father’s lifetime. He did not scruple to promise the malcontents better days, if he should attain to the sovereignty, and at length gathered them around him at Hebron, acting in concert with one of the most influential of his Father’s advisers. David suddenly perceived that his subjects were deserting him, and that the ruin of his capital and his whole house was imminent. He formed the resolution of retiring from the capital with his men of war. Absalom occupied the city, and yielding to evil guidance set foot within his father’s harem, intending by this act an assumption of the royal dignity; on the other hand he let the opportunity slip of pursuing his father with the superior forces he had gathered round him. David, in consequence, found time after passing the Jordan to put himself in a position of defence, though not without the support of the adjacent districts, which he had himself once subjugated. Thus the great captain and conqueror found himself opposed to his own subjects, whom he had himself settled in their possessions, with his own son at their head. We touch upon this incident principally because it had extensive results in the succeeding epoch.

No sooner did the insurgent troops appear in the field than they were completely routed by the veteran soldiers of the king, whose superiority in discipline more than counterbalanced their inferior numbers. The latter are said to have amounted to about four thousand men, and Joab, David’s general, was at their head. David absented himself from the battle, in compliance with the wishes of his own army, who thought that a mishap to the king would carry with it their own destruction. They valued him highly, and wished to spare him ; his son, however, found no mercy with them. To the deep grief of his father, Absalom was slain by Joab. The result, however, did but lead to new perplexities. By this victory David became once more king of the combined kingdom. It was his own wish to connect himself principally with Judah, whose elders, again won over to his cause, came to meet him and conducted him back to Jerusalem. He might count also on the support of Benjamin. The remaining ten tribes, however, murmured at this preference; they too could claim a share in the monarchy. This movement also was repressed by Joab, and the most prominent leader of the insurgents was murdered in the town in which he had taken refuge. The inhabitants were not prepared to give up their city to devastation on his account, and threw his head over the battlements at Joab’s feet. Further, the old quarrel with the house of David’s predecessor was disposed of by a combination of violence and clemency. All those who were responsible for the breach of the old covenants with the Gibeonites were delivered up to them ; the immediate posterity of Jonathan, however, still enjoyed protection, and the mortal remains of Saul and Jonathan were carried to the hereditary sepulchre of their family in the tribe of Benjamin.

In short, the power which had given the kingdom a centre of union had subjugated the nations of kindred race, had shown a bold front to the enemies of the country, and had finally subdued a wealthy region beyond the scene of all these complications. It had united the two ideas of Jehovah and the monarchy, and now contrived also to maintain its ground against the reactionary movements from within.

Scarcely were these results attained when the question of the succession in the house of Jesse once more came into prominence. Adonijah, the eldest and superficially the most gifted of the sons of David, made preparations to assure himself of the regal power in his father’s lifetime. The king had connived at his taking several preliminary steps to this end, and at length Adonijah invited his friends to a banquet designed at the same time to inaugurate the succession. He had on his side the grandees of the realm, Joab, the commander-in-chief, and Abiathar, one of the two high priests, the representative of the second line in the Aaronic succession, that of Ithamar, which had displaced the elder branch. He was joined also by the king’s other sons, with the exception of Solomon, the youngest.

But around Solomon and his mother Bathsheba another combination was formed. Joab indeed took the part of Adonijah; not so, however, the armed retinue of the king. The Book of Kings says that the king’s ‘mighty men,’ no doubt those Jewish praetorians who had the executive in their hands, had not been tampered with by Adonijah. Their captain, Benaiah, and the second high priest, the head of the elder line of succession, were against Adonijah and in favour of Solomon. Moreover this party had what the other lacked, the support of a prophet. At an earlier period David had been in a certain sense prophet as well as kii now, however, Nathan appeared, and through his addi the king was gained in favour of the succession of youngest son. The fact of most weight in determin the issue was that the conception of the prophetic ofl which had been realized in the son of Jesse and had hel] him to attain so exalted a position, would have been thi into the background by Adonijah, who claimed the thn by right of primogeniture, whilst it secured complete predominant influence upon the elevation of Solomon, thought the body guard of the king, who now joined party of the prophet, under their captain, Benaiah, a n entirely devoted to the cause ; for the conduct of the cc mander-in-chief had been in the highest degree arbitr; and he had much blood to answer for, with which the r government refused to be burdened. Consequently the ki who was always wavering between conflicting influences, f nounced for the youngest of his sons. Solomon was anoin by the second high priest, Zadok, acting under the protect of Benaiah. The body guard gathered round the kii state mule, upon which Solomon rode up the ascent to tabernacle. The aged hero David, that union of viole and magnanimity, of ideal exaltation and practical exp ence, vanishes from the scene, and his death soon afterwa follows.

In the struggle of the two parties Solomon rose to po\ Adonijah was at first spared, but when he aspired tc marriage which would have caused the people to regard 1 as the king’s successor he was put to death. Joab fell the hand of Benaiah, although he had grasped the horns the altar. The high priest, Abiathar, was banished from city, and the supreme priestly dignity returned to the ' which had originally enjoyed it, and which till recently transmitted it in hereditary succession. Solomon thus came possessed of the kingdom, though in a somewhat i gular manner. He could not, however, maintain his fath position to its full extent. It was probably at the \ commencement of his reign that he lost Damascus, a

which, though it might not be disadvantageous to the central provinces of Israel, was destined as time went on to be more and more sensibly felt. Damascus then fell into the hands of an Aramaic chieftain, who forthwith became one of Solomon’s opponents. But Solomon took care to secure control over the great commercial roads, as far as they passed through his territories, by protecting them with fortified places. It may be doubted whether he founded Tadmor, in the Syrian wilderness ; but it is indisputable that he devoted the greatest possible attention to his commercial relations. It is distinctive of Solomon that he endeavoured to secure himself less by means of war than by friendly relations with his neighbours. He allied himself in marriage with the daughter of a Pharaoh, probably the last Pharaoh of the twenty-first dynasty, who even resigned to him several stations of importance, so that he was safe from hostile interference on the side of Egypt. He also formed an intimate alliance with Tyre, an alliance which put him in a position to take part, in conjunction with the Phoenicians, in the general commerce of the world by way of Idumoea.

Thus in possession of a peaceful and assured dominion, he set his hand to the work which has made his name famous for all time, the building of the Temple at Jerusalem. The preparations which he made for this recall the compulsory service which was laid in past times upon the subjects of the Pharaohs in the erection of the pyramids and of the temples of Thebes. But times were indeed changed ; the Israelites were now themselves building a great sanctuary to that God who had redeemed them from the service of the Egyptian deities. They had become a powerful and independent nation. The prophet Nathan is probably to be regarded as the originator of the idea ; it was he who removed the scruples which might have been derived from the arrangements hitherto prevailing, especially the migrations of the tabernacle from one tribe to another. To him also belongs, it would appear, the idea that King David himself, who had mounted to power through war and bloodshed, was not to build the Temple, but to leave the work to his son. The

victories to which the prophetic office had so largely contributed had first to be won. The task of building the Temple harmonised with the kingdom of peace which Solomon established. The Temple is a monument of the combination which was effected in Judah between the hereditary monarchy and the religious idea. The huge blocks of stone which Solomon brought from a distance to form a firm foundation are supposed to be still distinguishable. Timber was obtained from the cedar forests, with the assistance of the skilful artificers of Tyre. In the Temple the principal component parts of the tabernacle—namely, the holy place, or the cella, and the holy of holies, the sanctuary—reappeared, but the dimensions, height, length, and breadth, were doubled. The holy of holies was, as in the Egyptian temples, lower than the cella. In the former was placed the ark of the covenant with the two tables of the law from Sinai. On the entablature of the walls were seen the cherubim with outstretched wings, the symbol of the power and immediate presence of Jehovah. The porch was an innovation upon the plan of the tabernacle. The whole building thus consisted of the porch, the holy place, and the holy of holies, with relative proportions corresponding to those which were observed in the other temples of antiquity. Two stately pillars adorned the entrance, like the obelisks before the Egyptian temples.

To the translation of the ark into the new sanctuary the king invited the elders of the tribes and the heads of the most distinguished houses ; the function itself was assigned to priests and Levites. There is something of the Pharaoh in King Solomon. Compulsory service in his architectural works fell specially upon the remnants of the old Canaanitish population. Many of the Israelites took part in the government, and the rest enjoyed peaceful days, each man under his own vine and fig tree. Solomon’s administration of justice united insight with authority. In him are combined the characteristics which, in all ages, have distinguished the great monarchs of the East.

kingdom, and the fame of his profound wisdom obtained him even in his lifetime marks of homage from far and near. It sounds almost like an Eastern tale of later times when we read that the Queen of Sheba, a region of Arabia Felix, distinguished by its rare products and its commercial prosperity, made a voyage to visit the King Solomon of whom she had heard by universal report; yet the story rests upon historical evidence. She laid before him questions which in her own mind pressed in vain for solution. Solomon was able to satisfy her on every point. Then she was shown the splendid and decorous arrangements of his court, and the sacrifices which he offered to his God. She exclaimed that, much as she had heard of Solomon, it was but the half of that which she now saw with her own eyes. She pronounced the people happy who possessed such a king, and praised Jehovah for having chosen him to be king over Israel.

So runs the account in the sober and trustworthy record of the Book of Kings. Solomon’s government manifested a cosmopolitan character, but ceased to correspond to the national conceptions. A disposition such as Solomon’s was ill adapted to move unswervingly along the lines to which the development of the religion of Jehovah had hitherto been strictly confined. His close alliance with neighbouring rulers, his marriage with a daughter of the Pharaoh, were incompatible with that religion. Moreover the harem which Solomon at the same time established for himself introduced from the neighbouring nations foreign religious rites, which had to be tolerated. Nothing is said of Egyptian rites; but the emblems of the Sidonian Astarte found a place on the heights of Jerusalem, and even Moloch himself and the fire god, Chemosh, were revived once more. This may, perhaps, have been a necessary condition of peaceful government ; but it could not have been acceptable to the schools of the prophets, which Samuel had founded for the maintenance of the strict worship of Jehovah. The principle of hereditary monarchy had not yet struck firm roots in the convictions of the people. Even in Solomon’s lifetime a

prophet marked out a man as his successor who belonged to another house and tribe, for to Solomon himself the continuance of the supremacy in his line had been granted only upon the condition that he did not walk after any other gods. This condition he did not fulful.

The tumultuary spirit which had been excited on the decisive victories of David had never been wholly suppressed Upon the death of the wise and wealthy king it unexpectedly broke out. The ten tribes were tired of a monarchy in the authority of which they had no share, and by which they were only controlled. The splendour which encircled the throne did not dazzle them. But more than this: with the death of Solomon the political connexion was broken which had been the distinctive advantage of his reign, and the Pharaohs severed themselves from his house. Among the Israelites an opponent of the dynasty had already started up, an Ephraimite named Jeroboam, who had assisted King Solomon in levying compulsory service and in his works of building. In so doing he had, according to an old tradition,¹ which it is impossible to reject, betrayed ambitious designs upon the supremacy, and, being on that account persecuted and menaced by Solomon, had taken refuge in Egypt. He had already been designated by the prophet as the future king. In Egypt he espoused Ano, the sister-in-law of the new Pharaoh. She played an important part in the seraglio, and Jeroboam and the Pharaoh were brought into the closest alliance. The successor of Solomon, Rehoboam, was the son not of his Egyptian wife, but of an Ammonitess. With the acquiescence, if not with the support, of the Pharaoh, Jeroboam, upon the death of Solomon, returned to Mount Ephraim. Here the tribes which had only been compelled by the military ascendency of Joab to obey King David assembled themselves. Their meeting-place was Sychem, the spot in which the memory of Jacob and Joseph was specially cherished. They were determined to refuse allegiance to the son of Solomon unless he promised them an

¹ It is preserved in the Septuagint, which deserves thorough consideration as an independent authority side by side with the Hebrew text.

easier government. Rehoboam came in person to Sychem, where the demand that he should lighten his father’s yoke, with its implied menace, was laid before him. He called together the elders of the people, to consult over the answer which he should give—the elders, that is, certainly of the tribes opposed to him, but probably also of those centred round Jerusalem. The elders now unanimously advised him to do justice to the expectations of the_#people. But neither Rehoboam himself nor the courtiers and companions of his youth would hear of the least concession. Their answer made it clear that an aggravation rather than alleviation of the burdens already existing was to be expected. If the people resisted they should be punished not with whips, but with scorpions, that is, rods of knotted wood furnished with barbs, producing a wound like the bite of a scorpion.

As the tribes which had formerly been brought to acknowledge David had done so only on the terms of a covenant, they were not inclined to tolerate patiently the continuance of the despotic government which had been subsequently introduced. They repeated what they had said on an earlier occasion, that between them and the house of Jesse in the tribe of Judah there was nothing in common. They did not consider themselves mere subjects. Exasperated at the answer they had received, they rose, according to the most trustworthy account, like one man. The cry of revolt was heard, ‘ To your tents, O Israel! ’ a cry destined to be re-echoed at great crises in later times. It was this cry which preluded the rebellion of the English against Charles I, a rebellion to which are to be traced the constitutional governments of modern days. In the ancient time of which we are writing the cry was decisive for the destiny of Israel.

Whilst it still resounded Rehoboam mounted his chariot to betake himself to Jerusalem. There he met with the recognition which David and Solomon had enjoyed before him, and made preparations to overpower the revolted tribes in a great campaign. Again, however, a prophet came forward, who opposed this project; Shemaiah warned the king and his people against waging war upon their brethren. The

breach, however, which had manifested itself at Sychem remained unhealed. The leader of the insurrection, Jeroboam, now came forward as king of the ten tribes. If the Israelites had remained united among themselves, and had improved the position they had gained, they would have maintained their ascendency in the regions of Western Asia. It is probable, however, that this could only have been brought about under a rigorous and unscrupulous government such as Israel was no longer willing to endure. There is always a difficulty in reconciling the political aggrandisement of a prince with the necessary sympathy on the part of the population, for increase of power may very easily become an intolerable burden to the nation. The ten tribes, in renouncing obedience to the monarchy so recently established, not only impaired its position but imperilled their own security.

High merit must be attributed to the Books of Samuel and of Kings as a picture of secular and, if we may use the word, political history. They sketch with incomparable skill the steps by which a people, assailed on all sides, changes its constitution, renounces the republican form, and subjects itself to the concentrated power of monarchy. The natural opposition between spiritual impulses and those tendencies towards complete independence, which are inherent in the temporal power, is here exhibited in a form symbolical for all times. King Saul is a great and unapproachable presence, a character unique in its kind, yet, historically considered, quite intelligible. In his struggle with Samuel we may see foreshadowed the German Emperor confronting the Papacy. So also the two kings, the warlike and impetuous David, the wise and peaceful Solomon, are prototypes for all succeeding centuries. In Rehoboam and Jeroboam, again, appears the feud between central power and provincial independence, a feud subsequently repeated a thousand times. Yet these characters have not been devised as prototypes ; they wear every appearance of historical reality, and are at once a delightful and a profitable study.

The genuine historical character which we recognise in the story of Israel as given in the Book of books makes the absence of similar records in the case of the neighbouring nations all the more marked. There is extant an ethnographical document, the so-called List of Nations, which perhaps does not really belong to the very early times to which it is assigned, but which enables us to conceive the way in which Israel figured to itself the human race and its several nationalities, probably in the time of the judges or of Samuel.

It is quite in harmony with the religious idea of Judaism that in this enumeration there is no trace of contempt for what is foreign, no marked separation into nations of kindred stock and barbarians. All nations appear in it as equal, free and akin to one another through their common ancestor, who is not Adam but Noah. This much is signified by the genealogy which derives the nations of the world from Noah’s three sons. We must content ourselves with noticing generally the extent of the horizon here revealed.¹

In one direction Southern Arabia was known to the Israelites, probably through the sea voyages of the Egyptians, such as those which are depicted on the monuments. In the other direction, through the voyages of the Phoeni

¹ We need not concern ourselves with the divergences between the separate versions of this list discovered by a critical examination of the text (Dillmann, Genesis, p. 174). Even the latest of these versions dates from extreme antiquity.

cians, they had become acquainted, at least by hearsay, with the lands of the Caucasus and the coasts of the Mediterranean. The List of Nations shows they had some notion of the tribes of the Caucasus, of some commercial populations on the Black Sea, of the islands of the Mediterranean, and perhaps also of Gaul and Spain, signified by Rodanim and Tarshish ; but we can scarcely suppose that they were really acquainted with all the regions and the inhabitants included within these extreme limits.

They were well acquainted with Egypt, Libya, Ethiopia, and the countries round the Euphrates, Elam, Shinar, and probably also Assyria. The Hebrews were closely connected with the Phoenicians, by nationality, situation, and intercourse. The views of the former had been originally directed to the occupation of the whole country, inclusive of the coast line. But here a power had been formed of a character different from that of the Canaanitish kingdoms in general; and this power, like that of the Philistines, they were unable to subdue. The coast line winds considerably, and its inlets gave shelter to a thriving and industrious nation of artisans and seamen. The promontories form safe natural harbours, in which from early times maritime settlements were established. Of all these Sidon was the oldest, and from it originally the whole nation derived its name. Tyre comes next in date ; but it does not appear that Tyre was a colony from Sidon, though indeed the ancients assumed it to be so. Had there been this relationship of colony and parent state it would have been consecrated by religion, and would have left its traces in monuments other than those which are actually found.

The whole coast is better adapted than any other in the world for long sea voyages. The wind seems to blow as if by design in the direction of Cyprus and Rhodes, whence communication with Egypt is easy. Thence a current sets northward along the coast, and facilitates the return voyage to Phoenicia. Aided by these natural advantages, Phoenician merchants swarmed at an early date in the eastern basin of the Mediterranean. Later on, Tyre pushed into the western

gulf, reached Gades, and founded Carthage. Gradually the Phoenician coast became the metropolis of the trade between East and West. From her commerce Phoenicia derived great political importance. We have already mentioned how Babylon and the east of Phoenicia joined hands at Damascus. The words Phoenician and Punic are identical, especially for the West. In the East the Phoenicians availed themselves of the numerous commercial routes, and to this end their alliance with Judaea was of the greatest service to them. The tribes which had pushed furthest towards Phoenicia even became her dependants. The Temple of Solomon itself was only built with the assistance of the Phoenicians. Nevertheless the two nationalities, though belonging to the same ethnological family, remained always essentially distinct in character. Israel was an inland people, whilst Phoenicia had in her hands the whole commerce of the world by land and sea. At the time when the Israelitish monarchy was at its greatest power, a monarchical constitution was introduced in Tyre. King Hiram was the friend of David and of Solomon. But when, upon the death of Solomon, the schism took place in the kingdom of the twelve tribes, their nearest neighbours, Egypt and Phoenicia, obtained a preponderance which they had not hitherto possessed.

The Pharaoh Shishak, who is regarded as the founder of the twenty-second dynasty, and who had formed an alliance with Jeroboam, thus found an opportunity of waging war upon Judah. The great wealth which had been accumulated in the Temple under Solomon must have had a special fascination for him : it fell into his hands, including all the golden shields with which the king on high feast days delighted to make parade. An inscription has been found upon the outer wall of a temple at Thebes in which the Jews are depicted as smitten by the victorious war-club of the Pharaoh.¹ This was a death blow to the political power of Judah. Yet the

¹ Rosellini, Monumenti Storici, iv. 157. Amongst the towns named in the inscription are to be distinguished Mahanaim, Beth-horon, Beth-anoth, and Eamah (Brugsch, Geschichte Aigypiens, p. 661 ff.) As far as can be seen, Jerusalem is not mentioned.

influence of Phoenicia upon Israel went far deeper, being the influence not of arms and of conquest, but of morals and of religion.

One of the most powerful of the kings over the ten tribes, Ahab, the eighth in the series, whose date is about the year 900, had married Jezebel, the daughter of the Tyrian king Ethbaal (Ithobaal), who had previously been priest of Astarte. These were the days in which the rites of Tyre were spreading and establishing themselves through her commercial colonies in all parts of the world. The daughter of the king, who had been a priest, brought with her more than eight .hundred theophoreti, or priests and ministers of her gods. Before these it seemed as if the worship of Jehovah must give way.

Ahab built a temple to Baal in Samaria, served by four hundred priests ; he established an oracle of Astarte in a grove near Jezreel, in a fruitful region abounding in gardens laid out after the Phoenician manner, and chosen by Jezebel for her residence. Here, however, a violent struggle broke out between the two religions. As the opponent of the queen and of the idols of Baal, the prophet Elijah comes upon the scene, a man who knew no respect of persons and whose animating principle was the absolute authority of religion. This feeling is never so strong as when religion is menaced and compelled to do battle for existence.

The queen persecuted the prophets of Jehovah, who concealed themselves in the caves of the region, where bread and water, supplied by faithful worshippers of Jehovah, gave them a scanty subsistence. One of the fugitive prophets was Elijah, a man descended from the settlers in Gilead; the legend represents him as having been fed with bread and meat by ravens at the brook Kishon, which runs through the plain. Again and again compelled to flee, he constantly reappears, to the consternation of Ahab, to whom his presence is like the burden of an evil conscience. ‘ Is it thou,’ says Ahab on his presenting himself once more before him, ‘ thou bringer of destruction to Israel ? ’ ‘ Thou,’ answers Elijah, ‘ art the destroyer of Israel, since thou hast forsaken Jehovah and servest

Baal.’ On one occasion a contest between the two religions took place upon Mount Carmel. Elijah was victorious. He repaired a ruined altar of Jehovah, and fitted it for a sacrifice ; around it he placed twelve stones, representing the twelve tribes, and then called upon the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. The people, at first silent and undecided, came over to his side. Jehovah, who consumed the sacrifice with fire and gave rain after long drought, was recognised by the people as the. true God. A terrible vengeance was then taken upon the ministers of Baal; they were, according to the literal statement in the text, slaughtered at the brook Kishon. On Jezebel, however, the occurrence produced a very different effect; she threatened the prophet incontinently with the same doom which had befallen her priests, and nothing remained for him but a new flight into the wilderness. We find him in Mount Horeb, the spot where the religion of Jehovah was announced to the world. Thence he returned, convinced that the worship of Jehovah was only to be rescued by the re-establishment of a government which should be true to it. For a considerable time Jezebel and Elijah still confront each other. The prophet, in his garment of hair and leathern girdle, passes through the land, or takes his seat upon some eminence, alone but unassailable. Even the royal troops are at length brought to revere in his person the power of Jehovah. In the midst of these struggles he vanishes from the scene. Tradition makes him disappear from sight in a chariot and horses of fire, fitting emblems of a life-long battle. But he left behind him a disciple, Elisha, who accomplished what his master had planned.

As Jezebel had ruled Ahab so, after his death, she continued to rule his sons. She is the first of those women whom the history of the world exhibits in league with the powers of darkness; the religion of Baal and Astarte manifests all its effects in her person. Even over Judah Jezebel had won predominant influence by the marriage of her daughter with the king’s son. In brief, there was at stake at this time nothing less than the maintenance or the destruction of the worship of Tehovah in both kingdoms. Elisha set himself to carry

out his master’s purpose. At his word Jehu, the captain of the Israelitish army, was anointed king with the magic oil. He slew the kings of Israel and of Judah with his own hand, and then betook himself to that place, consecrated to Astarte, where Jezebel lived. She saw him coming; and, employing an Egyptian cosmetic which made the eyes appear larger, she stepped to the window in the ghostlike disguise of her idolatrous worship as Jehu drew near. At his challenge she was thrown out of the window by the attendant eunuchs, and her blood was sprinkled on the walls. Jehu drove his chariot over her corpse. Once more Jehovah was victorious in the person of His prophets. Elijah triumphed after his death. The worship of Jehovah was saved through this change of dynasty, and Elisha lived forty-five years longer to support the house of Jehu.

A daughter of Jezebel, however, named Athaliah, was still living in Jerusalem. She had erected a temple of Baal beside the temple of Jehovah. It seemed to be her design to annihilate the whole house of David, for these women were as bloodthirsty as the Baal-Moloch whom they worshipped. Only one scion of the family of Jesse had been saved, a child named Joash, who owed his preservation to a sister of King Ahaziah, the wife of the high priest, Jehoiada. The high priest brought up the boy secretly till his seventh year ; then he took steps to overthrow the guilty mother in his name. Jehoiada was a descendant of that Zadok by whom Solomon had been set upon the throne, and was, like Zadok, joined by the captains of the body guard. The young Joash was already standing in the Temple, in the place reserved for the wearer of the crown. The people proclaimed him king. Alarmed by the uproar, Athaliah hastened to the Temple, and exclaiming, ‘ Treason ! treason ! ’ fled for refuge to the palace. There at the door she was slain ; for in the sacred precincts .they had been unwilling to lay hands upon her, remembering that she too was a king’s daughter. Later writers have said that she had attempted the murder of the boy, and such would undoubtedly have been the result had she remained in power. On her death, however, the child Joash became king

in her stead. As the prophet ruled in Israel, so the high priest now ruled in Judah. The temple of Baal was destroyed, the priests of the false gods slain, and there was a complete return to the usages of David and Solomon. To this violent reaction against the intrusion of Baal worship the continued existence of the old religion of Jehovah was due.

If we enquire how events could have taken this turn unimpeded, how it was that the queen and her family received no support from Tyre, no aid from the strongholds of the Phoenician religion, I affirm without hesitation, unexpected as the statement may be, that it was the rise of the Assyrian monarchy, and the advance of that power to the shores of the Mediterranean, which had the chief share in producing this result. '

The ancient world had many a story to repeat of an Assyrian monarchy, founded, it was said, by Ninus and Semiramis and ending with Sardanapalus. But Semi- ramis and Sardanapalus are mythical figures. The name Ninus is a personification of Nineveh, a word which means ‘ settlement.’ These are tales on which universal history cannot dwell. History discovers in the first instance not great monarchies, but small tribal districts or communities of primitive organisation, existing independently side by side, each with its own peculiarities. The principal fact revealed to us by the ancient Assyrian monuments which have been found in our own times, and have been more br less deciphered, is that in the tenth and ninth centuries before our era—the epoch to which not only the power of Tyre and the reign of the Ethiopian Pharaohs in Egypt, but also the division of the kingdom of Israel into two groups of tribes, is to be assigned—there were still many small independent kingdoms on both sides of the Euphrates and the Tigris as well as in the regions round the sources of these two rivers. All these kingdoms were flourishing, wealthy, and securely established. Wherever we look we find monarchical governments, towns more or less fortified, national forces, and accumulated treasures. Most of these nations are of Semitic

origin. Though Babylon may have been a great religious metropolis, local religions were everywhere established, which in a manner sanctified the local independence.

Until Assur came into prominence not one of these kingdoms achieved a decided preponderance of power. They were all engaged in mutual hostilities and petty wars. The oldest traditions derive Assur from Babylon ; its importance in the world at large dates from the conquest of Nineveh, a great centre of commerce between eastern and western Asia, situated in a position which at a later era was found specially suitable for trade. At an earlier epoch Assur and Chalach, the ruins of which still remain, had been the seats of the monarchy ; gradually Nineveh assumed this position. What we learn from the monuments lately discovered fills up a gap in universal history which was always sensibly felt. About more remote antiquity we still lack, it is true, solid and trustworthy information, and all our knowledge is fragmentary and uncertain ; but upon the period from the division of the Jewish kingdom till the rise of the Persians we possess historical testimony of the most welcome description.

Never were there princes more ambitious to live to posterity than those of Assyria. The walls of their palaces were inscribed with an account of their exploits, and a curse was pronounced upon all who should injure this record. Nevertheless they remained utterly forgotten for two thousand years, till they were brought to light again by the science of Europe. It is with keen interest that we undertake a recapitulation of the contents of these inscriptions, as far as they are ascertained, always with the proviso that they await further study to confirm and amplify them.

First and foremost, then, we come upon the evidences of a firm alliance, but a no less constant rivalry, with Babylon. Mention is made of a king who leaves behind him two sons, one of whom rules in Assur, the other in Babel. In Babel we have evidence of the struggle between this power and the original inhabitants, called Akkad and Sumir, who are assumed to have belonged to the Turanian stock. The king Hammurabi boasts that Bin and Bel, the gods of his own

branch of the human family, have given these nations into his hand, and that he has been the first to make the country habitable by means of a system of embankments. Yet the assistance of Assurwas always necessary to keep the inhabitants in subjection, and to maintain the hereditary monarch in possession. At times indeed kings of Babylon come forward, who make inroads into Assur, but they are always defeated in the end, and Assur still remains in the ascendant. Then follow compacts, marriage alliances, and after an interval fresh dissensions and fresh wars.

It is in the first half of the ninth century B.C. that the Assyrian king who may be regarded as the real founder of the greatness of Assyria comes on the scene. He was not without forerunners in his undertakings ; he praises one of his predecessors as a man without equal among the kings of the four quarters of the earth, but even that monarch’s glory is eclipsed by his own. This great king was Assur-nasir-habal, the prince from whose palace were obtained most of those relics of Assyria which have found their way into the museums of Europe. We cannot pass by the inscription in which he describes his exploits without giving its purport as far as it can be understood. First of all Assur-nasir-habal mentions the consolidation of his power and authority in the Babylonish provinces, especially in Kardunias, the land of the Chaldees, a result which he attributes to the terror of his name. Then follows a hazardous campaign against Nairi, a district which is to be found perhaps in the mountain region in which the Tigris rises. Its inhabitants obeyed a number of separate chieftains. The king of Assyria imposes a tribute upon them, consisting of silver and gold, chariots and horses, and all kinds of supplies, and establishes a deputy in those parts. An insurrection breaks out, which gives the king once more a pretext for invading the country. He takes the towns, hunts out the fugitives in their mountains, and kills many of their people. He exhibits the violent spirit of a conqueror who thinks himself justified in punishing insurrection with the utmost severity. He mentions also neighbouring populations, over whom he has poured himself forth ‘ like

the God of the Flood.’ He erects pyramids of the heads of the slain, as did the Mongolian Khans at a later date, and impales or crucifies the conquered insurgents.

A subsequent campaign leads him against the Sukhi, who dwell beside the Euphrates and are encouraged by the assistance of their neighbours, the Chatti, to attack him. We here see exhibited the whole plan and progress of the war. The enemy are well equipped and have courageous leaders. The first pitched battle is indecisive. But the king of Assyria succeeds in occupying the capital, where many of the confederates fall into his hands. Among the spoil which he acquires are found war chariots, articles of male attire, and abundance of gold and silver. The terror of his arms spreads far and wide, amid signs of universal subjection. Soon, however, the king is summoned back by a new insurrection. He again conquers the enemy and their confederates, destroys and burns the towns, and takes away some of the inhabitants with him to Assyria. He builds several fortresses to replace the towns.

The names exhibited in the inscriptions belong to an almost unknown world, only drawn within the horizon of history at a later date. But it is a most important fact that the Assyrian conquests were pushed without interruption until they reached the scene of all the movements and conflicts between race-and race which had hitherto affected the course of universal history.

Assur-nasir-habal once more makes an expedition, in which he marches as far as the Orontes and subdues the fortified places which offer resistance ; he subjugates in person the most powerful chieftain, and settles his Assyrians in the principal localities. Then he crosses Lebanon, reaches the Mediterranean, and compels Tyre, Sidon, and other towns to pay him tribute. Here too he offers sacrifice to his gods, and causes cedars to be felled in Amanus, to be employed in the temples which he is constructing at Nineveh in honour of Astarte. Thus between the capitals situated on the banks of the Tigris and those on the shores of the Mediterranean, through districts inhabited by subject nations,

I think, then, that the retrograde movement of the Tyrian Baal worship in Israel and Judah¹ is to be connected with this advance of the Assyrians, extending to the Phoenician towns. The divinities of Tyre could not be expected to subdue Israel while they were experiencing a great loss of prestige in their own home. This appearance, in the first half of the ninth century B.C., of a power advancing irresistibly from the heart of Asia towards the West is an event of immeasurable importance in the history of the world. Phoenicia, situated as she was on the fringe of the mountain ranges, could not hold her ground, when a superior power became master of the hill country itself, and deprived her of the primary condition of her independence. The situation recalls King David to our mind. If the Israelites had succeeded in keeping Damascus and concluding a close alliance with the maritime towns, it would have been possible to drive the Assyrians back within their own borders. With the dissolution of the Israelitish kingdom into two portions, one of which had yielded to the Egyptian arms, the other to the Phoenician idolatry, this had become impossible. Damascus, after freeing itself from Solomon, had become an independent power which proved more than a match for the Israelites in their turn. Whilst, however, the two powers were endeavouring by sanguinary wars to settle the question whether Jehovah was merely a God of the hills, as the Syrians maintained, or whether He could also win a battle on the plain, the great kingdom in the East arose, to which the combatants were able to offer only a partial and unavailing resistance.

¹ Assur-nasir-habal’s date is fixed at 882-857. To determine the reign of Jehu we must make it our starting-point that its commencement is fixed 98 years after the division of the kingdom, which, according to the table of the Israelitish kings, if we reckon back from the carrying away of the ten tribes in the year 722, falls in the year 962; consequently the beginning of Jehu’s reign falls in the year 864. He reigned 28 years—that is, till 836. This so far agrees with the results of Assyriological enquiry that in an inscription of the year 843 (841) Jehu is said to be mentioned as a vassal of Salmanassar.

Assur-nasir-habal, whose death is assigned to the year 857, was succeeded by Salmanassar, distinguished as the second king of this name, who pushed still further in the direction of Syria. One of his inscriptions relates that in his sixth campaign he crossed the Euphrates on rafts and defeated Ben-hadad (Ben-hidri) of Damascus, who was in alliance with Hamath and other neighbouring powers. Five years later a new campaign had to be undertaken, in which Ben-hadad, in alliance with twelve other kings, was again defeated and compelled to take to flight. But this does not complete the conquest of Syria. Benhadad is replaced by Hazael (Khaza- ilu), of whom it is affirmed in the Hebrew tradition that he had long before been appointed king of Syria by Elijah, as Jehu had been appointed king of Israel by Elisha. In the Assyrian inscriptions it is recorded that Hazael goes to meet the king of Assyria, to fight with him. He is admirably furnished with horses and war chariots, but Salmanassar conquers him and becomes master of his camp. This may be regarded as the decisive battle, in consequence of which three years later Salmanassar occupied the fortified places and imposed a tribute on the country. Jehu, king of Israel, is mentioned among his tributaries. On an obelisk of Salmanassar at Chalach the Jews are seen offering tribute. Salmanassar is saying, ‘ Bars of gold, bars of stiver, cups of gold, I received.’ The inscriptions on the obelisk are supplemented by others on two winged bulls. Salmanassar directs his victorious arms towards the east as well as towards the west. Presented as tribute from the land of Muzri are camels, a rhinoceros, a hippopotamus, and apes, from which we may conclude that Salmanassar had advanced as far as the highlands of Iran.

Thus the great event of the ninth century may be considered to be this : that the military power of Assur, after obtaining the ascendant within its proper region, moved on towards the west, and after reducing the mountainous district which dominates Phoenicia, and so Phoenicia itself, broke the military power of Damascus and began to be supreme in Syria. The necessary consequence was that the Assyrian power obtained a certain influence upon both the Israelitish

This influence asserted itself in the following way. With the close of the dynasty of Jehu the kingdom of the ten tribes fell into a state of intestine anarchy. Three princes competed for the throne. Menahem, who succeeded in making good his claim, indulged in acts of the greatest violence. We are told that even those who took sanctuary in places recognised by the law were put to death. It was an event of no little importance that Hosea, whom I may call, if not the first, at any rate the greatest but one of all the prophets, abandoned his unavailing efforts and left Israel to itself. Then the Assyrians came and overran the land. Menahem, whom they supported in his claim to dominion, was nevertheless compelled to pay tribute, which he had to extort from the most influential of his own subjects. This was in point of fact a virtual subjugation of Israel. In the inscriptions in which Tiglath- Fileser enumerates the tributary princes, Menahem appears along with the princes of Commagene, Damascus, Tyre, Byblus, and Carchemish. It is the rulers of Asia Minor, Phoenicia, and Syria who are cited by Tiglath-Pileser as his vassals. Judah, Edom, and the Philistines are not found in the list. Yet, with almost inconceivable want of foresight, the petty princes who were left in power in Israel and Damascus, intent only upon their immediate advantage and regardless of the menacing neighbourhood of an irresistible enemy, united to attack the king of Judah. The latter had no other means of escape except to league himself

¹ Just as we come to the first evidences of the action of Assyria upon Israel we encounter an historical difficulty, since Phul—the name of the Assyrian king to whom the books of Scripture ascribe this influence—has not been discovered in the cuneiform inscriptions of Assyria. An attempt has been made to explain the name as resulting from a misconception of the middle syllable of the name Tiglath-Pileser ; a division of government in the Assyrian monarchy has also been assumed to account for it. As the names Phul and Tiglath-Pileser are mentioned next each other not only in the Books of Kings, but in the Chronicles, which inserts in its genealogical section an ancient notice referring to the dispersion of the tribes, we can hardly identify them, especially since in the inscription to which reference is made gaps are to be noticed, which may have been filled by other names (cf. Von Gutschmid, Neiie Beitrage zur Geschichte da Alien Orients, p. IiS). ,

with Tiglath-Pileser, to whom he became tributary, and thus soon afterwards his name is found added to the list of subject princes.¹

Thus about the middle of the eighth century the independence of both parts of the old Israelitish kingdom came virtually to an end. This was not so much the result of great efforts from without as of differences arising between and within the two kingdoms. As soon as Hosea, the king established by Assyria in Samaria, ventured to refuse the tribute to Salmanassar, the fourth of the name, he was taken prisoner by him. Salmanassar was preparing to besiege Samaria, when, in consequence of trouble in Phoenicia, he was compelled to divide his forces.²

Salmanassar’s premature death prevented him from carrying out his plans. They were taken in hand by his successor, Sargon, who appears in the inscriptions as Sarkin or Sarrukin. He recounts his own achievements thus: ‘With the help of the god Samas, who gives me victory over my enemies, I have taken the city of Samaria. I have made slaves of 27,280 of the inhabitants and caused them to be led away into the land of Assur ; the men whom my hand hath subdued I have made to dwell in the midst of my own subjects.’ It is therefore clear that Sargon is to be regarded as the real destroyer of the kingdom of Samaria. He dealt in the same way with the regions of Syria and with Damascus, quelling the insurrection there and making it possible to settle Armenians and Assyrians in this district also. It is a striking fact that all this could happen without opposition from Egypt, although the king of Assyria was thus violently intruding upon the scene of her aggrandisement in times past.

We possess but the scantiest information about the condition of Egypt at this epoch ; but it is indisputable that the kingdom of the Ramesidas, after the expedition of Sheshon against Judah, was assailed from within and without by changes of the most destructive kind. We learn that the rulers of Ethiopia added Egypt to their dominions, but

abandoned the country again through dread of the power ot the priests. Then an intestine struggle broke out in the military caste, which, though unable to protect the soil, was in possession of a great portion of it. In the course of this struggle a priest proclaimed himself Pharaoh, contrary to all traditional usage. A new partition of the soil was undertaken ; the consequence, as may be supposed, was universal convulsion and disorder. It is not possible to assign exact dates to the separate catastrophes which ensued ; we only know that for a considerable period a state of things prevailed in which Egypt was not in a position to assist her old Syrian allies. The king of Gaza, whom Sargon next attacked, brought over to his side one of the masters of Egypt for the time being, who figures under the title Siltan (Sultan). Sargon narrates that the united armies of Gaza and Egypt came against him, but were driven by him from the field with the help of Assur, his lord ; that the Siltan escaped, but that Hanno of Gaza fell into his hands. He dealt with Gaza as he had dealt with Samaria and Damascus. The cities were plundered and reduced to ashes ; many of the inhabitants, more than 9,000 in number, were led away to Assyria. It was of less importance to him to annex Egypt than to occupy Gaza, in order to consolidate his conquests in Western Asia. Even the Philistines were no longer able to oppose him. In Ashdod, one of the chief cities of their Pentapolis, there lived a prince who had striven to rouse all his neighbours against the dominion of the AssyriSns, and who refused to pay his tribute. Sargon narrates that he made the subjects of this prince desert him, and established another in his place, who, however, proved unable to hold his own ; and that a third ruler was set up by the people, named Iaman, who in his turn refused to acknowledge the supremacy of Assyria. In the wrath of his heart Sargon turned with his war chariots and the horsemen of his train against Ashdod, and took possession of it. He carried the gods of the Philistines away with him, amongst them doubtless the fish god, in whose temple had been deposited the severed head of King Saul in days gone by. He tells us that he established a deputy in

Ashdod, and treated the inhabitants like the Assyrians themselves, so that they obeyed his commands.

A Philistine chieftain had taken refuge in Egypt, but so great was the terror spread by the Assyrian arms that he was delivered up by the Egyptian rulers. Sargon’s authority extended even to Arabia ; the inscriptions mention a king of Saba from whom Sargon exacted tribute. The inscriptions are the vainglorious bulletins of a conqueror, but the information which they contain is beyond all price. We learn from them that the successes in Western Asia were accompanied by incessant struggles in the east and north of the kingdom. Three times the Urarti (Armenians) and their neighbours near Ararat rise in revolt. They are conquered ; and horrible, almost unheard of even amongst barbarians, is the chastisement with which they are visited. They are flayed alive. Probably through dread of the same doom Ursa, the leader of this insurrection, dies by his own hand. An incessant opposition is maintained by the Medes, among whose princes we find the name Dayakku, presumably the person well known to the Greeks as Deiokes. Sargon transforms four Median towns into Assyrian fortresses. In one inscription he mentions twenty-eight, in another of later date forty-five Median princes from whom he has received tribute But his hardest struggle would seem to have been with Babylon, once a close ally, then often subjugated, and now again hostile.

A king established there by Salmanassar was overthrown by a native chieftain and potentate, Merodach-Baladan (Mar- duk-bal-iddin). Sargon was at first obliged to allow him to remain ruler of South and North Chaldaea. Soon afterwards the struggle was renewed. Merodach-Baladan invoked the assistance of nomad tribes of Arabs, whilst at the same time he formed a league with the king of Elam, and took up a strong position in the rear of a canal which branched from the Euphrates.' Sargon, however, vanquished him and compelled

¹ Inscription in Lenormant, HistoireaiiciennedcV Orient, i. 460, whose excerpts give much new and important matter. The quotations from the Tyrian annals appended by Lenormant are better referred to Salmanassar than to Sargon. -Maspero, History of the Eastern Nations in Ancient Times (p. 390 sq. of the

him to take to flight. The golden insignia of royalty, crown, sceptre, and throne, fell into the hands of the conqueror. Then he appears as a great monarch in Babel; he receives tribute from an island called Dilmun in the Persian Gulf. In the ruins of Kitium, in Cyprus, was found some years ago a granite column of victory, with a cuneiform inscription, which had been erected as a memorial of Sargon. He is everywhere victorious, more, however, in subduing insurrections by the most violent methods, than by making new conquests. It is clear that Sargon occupied a very important position in the world of his day, in spite of his illegitimate birth. A successful but merciless warrior, he died in the year 705.

The subjugation of Israel, Philistia, Gaza, and a part of Arabia by the Assyrians must be regarded as the main event of the eighth century. We cannot assume that it was complete, for the counteracting influence of Egypt rendered this impossible. The war against Egypt was carried on by the dynasty of Sargon during the seventh century. The son of Sargon, Sennacherib,¹ made it his first concern to measure his strength with the Egyptians. Egypt no doubt found it irksome to send tribute to Assyria, and she had on this occasion the support of Ethiopia.

In an inscription of Sennacherib it is related how countless troops, with war chariots, horsemen, and archers, in conjunction with the Egyptians, pushed forward to attack the Assyrians. At Altaku ² a great review was held. ' In the service of the god Assur, my lord,’ says Sennacherib, ' I fought with them and put them to flight.’ The sons of the king of Egypt and the generals of the king of Egypt and of Meroe were taken prisoners in the mette. We may regard this as the battle which established the ascendency of the Assyrians in Western Asia. All the independent powers which occupy the foreground of history were now subdued.

German translation by Pietschmann), lays stress on the evidences of concert in the opposition made by Egypt, Elam, and Urarti to Sargon.

² Eltheke, a town of the Levites in the province of the tribe of Dan (cf. Schrader, Keilinschriften und Gtschichtsforschung, p. 120 sq.)

religion was not rooted in the soil, like that of Egypt, nor based on the observation of the sky and stars, like that of Babylon. It was a warlike confederacy of Semitic origin, strengthened by constant struggle with the native inhabitants and gradually subduing every region accessible to its arms. Its gods were gods of war, manifesting themselves in the prowess of the ruling princes. Other tribes and towns had to pay it tribute, on pain of being delivered over to a horrible chastisement.

Amidst the universal ruin Jerusalem alone stood erect. Here Hezekiah had renounced all the religious infidelities of his predecessors, put an end to the idolatrous rites, and restored the service of Jehovah in its purity. It is necessary to realise vividly the whole situation at this time in order to comprehend and to do justice to such a presence as that of the prophet Isaiah, the most gifted of all the prophets in intellectuail and spiritual power. He united together the king and the people, so that Jerusalem was regarded as a bulwark against the Assyrians, and the neighbouring peoples who sought to save themselves from them took refuge thither. Every one has read in the Book of Kings the story of the siege which Sennacherib laid to Jerusalem,¹ and how vainly he exerted himself to draw the people from their allegiance to their king. One of the principal arguments by which the Assyrians recommend a surrender is that all other countries and cities, together with their gods, have bowed to the arms of Assur. Where, they ask, is there a god who has been able to protect his people against them ? The Israelites and their prophet aver that Jehovah is the God who will bring this to pass ; He has, they say, created heaven and earth, and is the only true God. Thus even Jehovah came to be regarded and worshipped as a national God. In the struggle in which each region was identified with its representative god, He was thought to take part as one among many. Yet with all this Israel had never lost sight of those qualities which Moses had

¹ In the account Herodotus gives of the defeat of Sennacherib the mouse, the symbol of annihilation, is introduced and worked into a fanciful story. In the Hebrew tradition the retreat is considered as a miracle wrought by God.

attributed to Jehovah, and, whilst the nation was regarded as His especial property, He revealed Himself at the same time in His essential character as Lord over all creatures upon earth and as the Universal God. This conception was realised with the greatest force and clearness at a time when dangers were most pressing. It was then that Isaiah wrote the emphatically prophetic words in which he proclaims that the time should come when all the world should seek salvation at the holy places of Jerusalem. The Jews still trusted in the national God ; but, at the moment when they were threatened with destruction, there emerged in dim outline a profound sense that the conception on which the religion of monotheism rests exists for all time, and belongs to all the world.

Jerusalem once more maintained her independence. Sennacherib was compelled to abandon the siege, principally, it appears, on account of commotions which had broken out in Babylon. Esarhaddon, his successor, followed in his footsteps.¹ In the inscriptions which bear his name it is recorded that he made Babylon subject to his laws, and transplanted Median tribes to Assyria. It was, however, towards Western Asia that his attention was chiefly directed. He relates that he has expelled the king of Sidon, slain its nobles, destroyed its houses, and cast its walls into the sea. He mentions twelve kings on the sea coast, and the kings of the island of Cyprus, as having been made subject to him. Even the king of Judah is at length compelled to submit. From the remotest regions, probably even from Arabia, the whole of which he subjugates, and in which he even establishes a queen, he carries away a portion of the inhabitants to Assyria. The caravans, as Isaiah complains, are endangered and harassed by his sword.

But by far the greatest of his exploits was to subdue the power which had hitherto been the chief opponent of Assyria. His father’s victory had paved the way to his success. In the general confusion which ensued Esarhaddon successfully invaded the land of the Nile. The inscriptions assert that he traversed the whole of Egypt; he calls himself king

of Musur, or Egypt, of the land of Miluhhi (Meroe), and the land of Kush. We are reminded of the old quarrel between Egypt and Cheta, which the Ramesidae had not been able to bring to a decisive issue. The Assyrians may be regarded as the second founders, after a long interval, of that kingdom, the component parts of which were already subject to them. They succeeded in reducing Egypt itself to subjection.

The work which Sennacherib had begun, and Esarhaddon had in a great measure carried out, was completed by Assur- banipal. An inscription fortunately preserved, and accessible in several translations, shows us with what vicissitudes of fortune and of policy the result was achieved. We learn from it that Esarhaddon had entrusted the government of the country to a number of tributary kings. But Taraco, king of Kush, who had been driven out of Egypt by Esarhaddon, was still alive. On the death of his conqueror he bestirred himself afresh. It is regarded as a sin on his part that he despised the war gods of the Assyrians and trusted to his own strength. The potentates appointed by Esarhaddon gave way before Taraco and fled to the wilderness. He once more occupied Memphis, which Esarhaddon had expressly annexed to the Assyrian empire. Assurbanipal, at the command of the gods whom Taraco has slighted, moves with all the force they have placed at his disposal to encounter him. On his way two-and-twenty kings of the subjugated districts of Western Asia, and of the islands of the Mediterranean, pay him homage. Thus he reaches Egypt without difficulty. Taraco sends a considerable force against him, but with the help of the gods his lords Assurbanipal puts it to the rout. Taraco himself is now seized with fear of these gods, and resolves to retreat The images of his gods are then brought into the camp of Assurbanipal. One aspect of the struggle is brought out in strong relief in the inscriptions ; the contest between the princes is at the same time a contest between their respective gods.

Assurbanipal pursues the defeated enemy as far as Thebes. He lays stress upon the fact that his people have made their habitation in that city. It was, as we know, the principal seat of the glory of the Ramesidse and of the Egyptian religion.

The occupation was, however, connected with another motive. The subject kings had returned, and were again established in their old districts ; but Assurbanipal had increased the burdens of the country, for the exaction and discharge of which these high commissioners were responsible. This led to unwelcome consequences. The subject kings forgot their obligations, although, as it is expressly stated, they had undertaken them towards the gods as well as the sovereign of Assur. They turned to Taraco, the king of the Ethiopians, and begged his support against the Assyrians. In the inscription it is related that the commanders of the Assyrian troops have come upon the traces of this design ; they get into their hands the chief of the subject kings, whose souls are oppressed by the burden of their broken oath, and lay waste their towns, now conquered for the first time. They show no mercy, and the country is covered with the corpses of the slain. Some of the subject kings are brought to Nineveh ; but Assurbanipal does not consider it advisable to punish them after the manner of his predecessors. It would manifestly have been impossible to govern Egypt immediately through Assyrian officials. The king, therefore, makes an arrangement with Necho, the most influential of the subject princes. He presents him with a sword of steel in a golden scabbard, and pays him almost royal honours ; at the same time, however, he imposes upon him even harder conditions than those exacted hitherto. This done, he sends him back to his district, Memphis and Sais. In order completely to re-establish the subjection of Egypt the king himself visits the country. Taraco has died meanwhile; ‘his soul,’ says the inscription, ‘ fled into the darkness.’ His successor has succeeded in taking possession of Thebes once more, but is unable to make any opposition to King Assurbanipal. The latter boasts that he has not only carried off priceless treasures from Thebes, but has also compelled the city to acknowledge the worship of the Assyrian divinities, Assur and Istar. The inscription commemorates a victory at once of the Assyrian religion and of the Assyrian empire over the land of Egypt and its gods. The king goes on to relate that he has advanced also against Kush, and won great glory there ; but, without

casting doubt upon his statement, we are not justified in assuming that he subdued this country, since he does not expressly say so. The conclusion to be drawn from his inscription—and it is an important one—is that Egypt, after being repeatedly overrun and at last completely subdued, acknowledged the sovereignty of the Assyrian arms and the Assyrian gods of war.

The power of Assurbanipal was equal to the task of holding under control the subjects of Assyria at all points. He boasts of having compelled the king of Tyre to drink sea water to quench his thirst. The greatest opposition he met with was in Elam, but this too he was able to suppress. The goddess appears to him in a dream, encompassed with rays of light, and promises him the victory which he obtains. The hostile king is slain, the people reduced to submission. Here, however, events took much the same course as in Egypt, and from the same cause. Assurbanipal says that he increased the tributes, but that his action was opposed by his own brother, whom he had formerly maintained by force of arms in Babylon. This brother now seduced a great number of other nations and princes from their allegiance. The Assyrian supremacy was new to them, and was daily growing more burdensome. These nationalities had been brought to acknowledge Assur, but without renouncing their own rights. The king of Babylon placed himself, so to speak, at their head, in order to protect them against his brother. The former is accused of an offence against religion ; he is said to have turned aside from Bel, the chief deity, and from the Assyrian war gods—a statement which may perhaps mean that he expended the treasures of the temple of Bel in the execution of his design.

The danger was immensely increased when the king set up by Assurbanipal in Elam joined the movement. It was necessary to. put an end to"this revolt, and this was effected for once without much difficulty. The prince of Elam was slain, with part of his family, by a rebel named Tammaritu. Assurbanipal, invoking his gods, advances against the latter. At this juncture the rebel is himself attacked by another insur

rectionary movement, and suffers a complete overthrow. Tammaritu, his head covered with dust, throws himself before the footstool of Assurbanipal, to the glory of the Assyrian gods. He is admitted to pardon and reinstated. Thereupon the rebellious brother in Babylon has to give way. The gods who go before Assurbanipal have, as he says, thrust the king of Babylon into a consuming fire and put an end to his life. His adherents, who fall into the hands of the victor, are horribly punished. The institutions against which they have risen are re-established ; the provinces which joined them are subjected to the laws of the Assyrian gods. Even the Arabs, who have sided with the rebels, bow before the king, whilst of his power in Egypt it is said that it extended to the sources of the Nile. His dominion reached even to Asia Minor. He mentions Lydia as a remote country on the other side of the sea, of which his ancestors had never even heard. Gugu, king of the Luddi, that is, Gyges of Lydia, sends ambassadors and entreats protection from Assyria.

The enormous extent of this power is next revealed in the statement that a king of Ararat has sent presents to Nineveh, which were regarded as tokens of homage, that insurrectionary chieftains in Media and the land of the Sacae have been suppressed, and that seventy-five cities have been occupied in these regions. The Assyrian Empire united the Semitic races for the first and perhaps the last time in a dominion which extended far beyond their own frontiers, and gave them indisputably the first rank among the powers of the world. Nor must it be forgotten that the Phoenician colonies, Carthage and the distant Tartessus, although they maintained their independence, carried into the west of Europe the community of interest which belongs to a common origin, whilst access to the east of Asia was opened by way of Media. Arabia also, without entirely succumbing to Assyria, was affected by her influence.

Assyria is the first conquering power which we encounter in the history of the world. The most effective means which she brought to bear in consolidating her conquests consisted in the transportation of the principal inhabitants from the

subjugated districts to Assyria, and the settlement of Assyrians in the newly acquired provinces. We might have expected that a method so thorough would have been attended by corresponding success. In Nineveh the Assyrian empire possessed a capital in which all the various elements of national life then existent encountered, and must necessarily have modified, each other. The most important result of the action of Assyria upon the world was perhaps that she limited or broke up the petty sovereignties and the local religions of Western Asia. There was some policy in transplanting the nations. In their own home they were always exposed to the temptation of falling once more under the influence of the local religion ; with the change of soil they might be expected to change their gods.

It was, then, an event which convulsed the world when this power, in the full current of its life and progress, suddenly ceased to exist. Since the tenth century every event of importance had originated in Assyria ; in the middle of the seventh she suddenly collapsed.¹ Yet the effects of her power could not by any means be effaced ; on the contrary, all subsequent history has been affected by it. Western Asia has always been one of the most important theatres in which the drama of the world’s history has unfolded itself. On that stage Persians, Greeks, Romans, Arabs, Mongols, Turks, have played their parts, and have furthered or retarded civilisation ; but each successive act has felt the influence of Assyria.

Of the manner in which the ruin of Nineveh was brought about we have nowhere any authentic record.² At a later time

¹ Assurbanipal reigned until the year 626 ; he was succeeded by Assur- idil-ili.

* The account given by Ctesias of the fall of Nineveh cannot, according to all appearance, be even derived from an old poem ; it is rather to be called a fairy tale than a legend. The passage from Alexander Polyhistor, quoted by Eusebius, is very obscure, since in it Sardanapalus (probably Assurbanipal, and in any case an Assyrian prince) appears as the father of Nebuchadnezzar himself. It is he who is said to have brought about and, so to speak, compelled the marriage of the latter with the daughter of a Median king (the word ‘ exercitum,’ however, is only found in the Latin text, Euseh. Chronic., ed. Schone, i. 29; the Greek text is extant in Syncellus, i. p. 396, ed. Bonn). The account, as it is ordinarily given, rests solely on the testimony of Abydenus, an author of the

Xenophon was told by the natives of the country that the city would have been able to defend itself, but was deterred from dotng so by signs from heaven, the lightnings of the Most High God. A still later account is that, in consequence of the advantages won by the hostile forces of Babylonians and Medes in their advance against Nineveh, the king of the latter, Sarakos, burnt himself in his citadel. This version afterwards led to a repetition, with embellishments, of the old legend of Sardanapalus. Apart from their miraculous accessories, the one circumstance in which all these accounts agree is that Assyria was overthrown by the combination of the Medes and Babylonians. Everything else that is said on the subject verges on the fabulous ; and even the fact of the alliance is doubtful, since Herodotus, who lived nearest to the period we are treating of, knows nothing of it, and ascribes the conquest simply to the Medes. We shall return shortly to the combination of circumstances which brought about the fall of the Assyrian empire and the rise of that of the Medes, events on which the progress of universal history depends.

At present we must confine ourselves to the Babylonians, who, being delivered by the fall of Nineveh from the tyranny of the Assyrians, continued on their own account the part played by Assur in Western Asia. Here they were supreme. Nebuchadnezzar, relying upon his hereditary title and the support of the priestly caste, may be regarded as the principal

second century after Christ. To him is to be traced the statement that the last Assyrian king sent out his generals to meet an advancing enemy, and that one of these generals, said to have been Nabopolassur, the father of Nebuchadnezzar, rose against him. I cannot accept this story as counterbalancing the evidence of Herodotus, for, although he does not show himself competently informed about the course of Assyrian history, it is clear from his intention of writing on the subject that he had not quite lost sight of it. And he undoubtedly gives us the best information about Median history. Now of this information the account he gives of the end of the Assyrian monarchy is an integral part. In my judgment it is by far the most trustworthy. He affirms with the utmost distinctness that the Median king Kyaxares, to avenge his father, Phraortes, who had fallen in the struggle with Assyria, attacked Nineveh, and was impeded in the siege by the inroad of the Scythians (i. 103) ; but that, as soon as he had disencumbered himself, in a very horrible manner, of the chief leaders of the Scythians, he directed his arms against Nineveh and conquered it, and reduced the whole of Assyria with the exception of Babylonia, Of any share taken by the Babylonians in the conquest of Nineveh Herodotus knows nothing.

founder of the Chaldseo-Babylonian empire. But he experienced opposition on the side of Egypt. Among those subject kings whom the Assyrians had established in Egypt the descendants of the first Necho assumed, after the fall of Nineveh, the position of independent sovereigns. Even in the lifetime of Assurbanipal, Psammetichus, the son of Necho, had taken steps in this direction, especially through his alliance with Lydia. The intention was, however, most unmistakably manifested in the son of Psammetichus, the second Necho, a prince whose general policy opened up a new path for the later history of Egypt. His efforts, by bringing him into alliance with Phoenicians and with Greeks, brought about a universal tendency in the direction of commerce and culture. The viceregal authority over Philistia being at the same time entrusted to him, he turned his whole power against Syria. It was here that Babylon and Egypt, each making strenuous advances in power, came into collision.

The smaller kingdoms, which were just raising their heads again, were under the unhappy necessity of making their choice between joining one or the other of these two powers. The situation was a momentous one for the kingdom of Judah. We can understand how it is that an occurrence with which only painful memories were connected is not found treated in the Book of Kings with that detail from which we might have gained an insight into the motives and the vicissitudes by which the course of events was determined. We can discover no more than that Judah under King Josiah had opposed the progress of the Egyptian Pharaoh, who desired free passage through the province of Judaea, but that at the first encounter near Megiddo Josiah was defeated and lost his life. Hereupon Necho became master of Jerusalem. He established a king who was compelled to serve the Egyptians, as formerly the Samaritan king Menahem had served the Assyrians, by exacting money from his subjects to support the conquerors in their enterprises. In these, however, the Egyptians failed.

Near Carchemish Necho was conquered by young Nebuchadnezzar, so that the preponderance of power was transferred

from the Egyptians to the Babylonians, and Nebuchadnezzar became the most powerful prince in Western Asia.¹ He is compared by the prophet to a lion breaking forth from his thicket and turning the land into a wilderness, or, again, to an eagle spreading out his wings over Moab, irresistible, that is, whether in defence or offence. Once more the princes of Tyre and Sidon combine with each other and with the king of Judah to resist the Babylonians. Nebuchadnezzar enquires of his gods whither he shall next direct his arms, and at their direction besieges Jerusalem. Josephus² relates that Necho made an attempt to relieve Jerusalem, and it is indisputable that the magnates and the people, as well as the king himself, were inclined towards Egypt, whilst the prophet Jeremiah saw in the ascendency of Babylon the will of God. Jerusalem was taken, the king made captive and carried away, and with him a great number of the principal Jews, especially of the men-at-arms, together with such artisans as were most useful in war, to the number of several thousand.³

It was Nebuchadnezzar’s chief concern to disarm Judah, which had shown itself so hostile to him, together with its capital. He established a new king, Zedekiah,but bound him to maintain the whole province for him, the king of Babel, and to allow no Egyptian tendencies to find expression. But Zedekiah falls under the influence of the multitude, and is warned by the prophets Ezekiel and Jeremiah. As, however, their prophecies do not exactly agree he rejects them both, and forms an alliance with the Egyptians, in the hope of overthrowing Babylon with their aid. Hereupon Nebuchad-

' From a record derived from Babylon itself we learn that Nebuchadnezzar, whose father had died meanwhile, received the kingdom from the hand of the Chaldseans, who had reserved it for him (Berosus ap. Joseph. Antiq. x. ir, I ; C. Muller, Fragmenta Hist. Grac. ii. p. 506, n. 14). The monarchy was, according to this, a kind of property of the priesthood, and the principal person amongst the Chaldaeans resigned it, so to speak, to Nebuchadnezzar. As far as the essential fact is concerned it makes no difference that the chronology cannot be exactly harmonised.

² Joseph. Antiq. a. 7, 2. I follow by preference the account in Josephus, who, if appearances are not altogether deceptive, had access here to special sources of information.

³ Jeremiah (lii. 28) reckons only 3,023 ; in 2 Kings xxiv. 14 the number is given as 10,000,

nezzar invades Judaea, conquers the fortresses, and besieges Jerusalem. The king of Egypt advances to its relief; the Babylonian king attacks and defeats him. The withdrawal of the Babylonian king with his army gives encouragement to the opinion that he will undertake nothing further against Jerusalem, but will even restore the precious furniture which he has taken from the Temple. Jeremiah protests against these idle dreams, and with justice, for in a short time Nebuchadnezzar returns to the siege of Jerusalem. According to the method introduced by the Assyrians, he encloses the city with a mound, and at last makes a breach in the walls. The city is visited by hunger and pestilence at the same time. Under these circumstances the king takes to flight. Near Jericho, however, he is overtaken ; he is brought to a formal trial, and in accordance with the sentence his children are slaughtered before his eyes. This is the last sight he is allowed to behold ; he is then blinded and led in chains to Babylon. A month afterwards the Temple and the royal palace are burnt by the Chaldseans. What David and Solomon had created seemed to be annihilated for ever. Upon this followed more compulsory emigrations. Whether, however, a deportation of the whole people really took place is not so certain as is commonly supposed. We only learn that no one was left behind except such as were absolutely necessary for the cultivation of the land or of the vineyards.

The causes which led to this catastrophe were not, properly speaking, of a religious nature. The conflicting influences of the two neighbouring powers were so strong that they led to a division in Jerusalem itself. The kings were always renewing their alliance with Egypt; the prophets were in favour of Babylon. In the midst of this dissension, itself the effect of the general situation, the kingdom of Judah was destroyed. It was, however, in the end, the opposition between Baal and Jehovah which decided the collapse of the Jewish monarchy. Baal was lord of Western Asia, and his present champion, Nebuchadnezzar, was armed at all points. In Jerusalem, on the other hand, there was nothing but discord. Even the prophets, firmly attached as they were to, Jehovah, acknowledged to themselves without illusion the superior power

of Babylon, and recommended a peaceful arrangement. The observance of the conditions imposed by Nebuchadnezzar would not have run counter to their feelings. But the kings, and with them the greater part of the people, leaned towards Egypt, which nevertheless was too weak to save them.

If all appearances are not fallacious, it was only the upper classes who were led into captivity in Babylon. In this circumstance, however, we recognise the foundation for a reaction ; for it was in these classes that the ideas which belonged to the early days of Israel had struck the deepest roots, deriving strength and consistency in the last epoch, especially under King Josiah, from the struggle with the encroaching idolatries. These classes would not improbably maintain their integrity even when removed from Jerusalem, now despoiled of all political power, and transported by the conqueror to some of his other provinces. It was in misfortune that the indestructible power of faith asserted itself most unmistakably. The captives celebrated the great days of disaster as days of penitence. They went back in memory to Abraham, who alone among all their leaders had never been untrue to his God. They gathered up their articles of faith, and imparted to them a depth and purity never known before, whilst they looked forward to the deliverance which they soon obtained.

After the taking¹ of Jerusalem Nebuchadnezzar turned his arms against Phoenicia. Only Tyre offered any opposition, and it is not clear whether he reduced it or not. We are told that the siege lasted thirteen years.² Nebuchadnezzar next attacked

¹ The destruction of the Temple is placed in the Book of Kings (2. xxv. 8), and also by the prophet Jeremiah (lii. 12), in the nineteenth year of Nebnchad- nezzar. As Nebuchadnezzar, according to the Ptolemaic canon, ascended the throne of Babylon in the year 604, we must place the destruction in the year 586. That this supposition is in accordance with the calculation of thirty-seven years for the imprisonment of Jehoiachim has been shown by Brandes, Abhand- lungen zur Geschichte des Orients im Alterthum, p. 80 sq. The passage of Clemens Alexandrinus quoted also hy Eusebius belongs to the comparative chronology of later times, the data for which we cannot more exactly determine.

² Was it, however, the ancient or the insular Tyre? There are no traces of maritime undertakings, such as would have been necessary against the latter. It is nowhere recorded that Tyre was conquered. It is possible that Tyre once more acknowledged the supremacy of Babylon; even this, however, cannot be

and subdued Ammon and Moab. According to an account which comes to us with exceptional distinctness ¹ he himself penetrated even into Egypt, and carried as captives to Babylon the Israelites who had taken refuge there. All these actions, however, are but parts of a single design—the annihilation of Egyptian influence in Western Asia.

The cuneiform inscriptions of this period are not of historical import, like the Assyrian, but have reference only to the building works of the king. ‘ The Temple of the Foundation of the Earth,’ says the king, ‘the Tower of Babylon, I erected and completed, and covered it with a pointed roof of tiles and copper.’ He feels himself urged by the god himself to restore the Temple of the Seven Lamps of the Earth, which had fallen into ruins. ‘ On a day of good omen,’ says he, ' I improved the bricks of its building and the tiles of its roof, and made it into masonry firmly joined together.’ Hitherto the temple had been without a cupola ; this was erected by N ebuchadnezzar.

His history became the subject of legend. The Jewish account in Daniel says he was expelled from human society and ate grass. Quite different is the Greek tradition, which relates that he became greater than Hercules, that he pushed as far as Libya, the Pillars of Hercules, and Iberia, and that he transplanted the Iberians to the shores of the Black Sea. Then he is said .to have been possessed by a god, and on one occasion to have mounted the battlements of his palace and thence prophesied to the Babylonians their destruction, after which he disappeared.

positively affirmed. The maritime power of Tyre was at this lime most flourish- - ing and most widely extended. If an event like this had succeeded such prosperity il would have been recorded with greater distinctness.

¹ It is found in Joseph. Antiq. x. 9, and has hitherto been rejected. But in a hieroglyphic inscription known to Athanasius Kircher, a deputy in Elephantine of the time of the Pharaoh Hophra boasts of having defeated an army of ‘the Syrians, the Northmen, the Asiatics,’which had invaded Egypt; and this can be no other than the army of Nebuchadnezzar, who is assumed to have pushed as far as Syene. Cf. Alfred Wiedemann, Geschkhte Aegyptens von Psam- metsch bis auf Alexander den Grossen, p. 168 sq. ; and in the Zeitschrift fur dgyptische Sprache und Alterthumskunde, 1878, p. 4 sq. and p. 80. According to a Babylonian inscription the campaign of Nebuchadnezzar against Egypt falls in the 37th year of his reign, i.e, BC. 568 (Schrader in the Zeitschrift, 1879, p. 45 sq.)

I NOW return to the overthrow of the Assyrian and the foundation of the Medo-Persian kingdom, events so closely connected that they may be regarded as one. They are known to us only very imperfectly, but are perhaps capable of being made clearer by a general survey.

It might seem to be a misuse of terms to regard a kingdom like the Assyrian, which owed its growth to acts of violence of all kinds, as forming a real epoch in the culture of the human race. Yet such is the case. Through the events and complications that preceded its rise a certain degree of civilisation had already been attained. There existed stationary peoples with definite frontiers, maintaining themselves in spite of constant conflicts with each other; institutions under the sanction of law, the necessary condition of social life ; religious systems in the midst of which the idea of monotheism was firmly maintained, still under local forms indeed, but all-embracing in its ultimate scope; a literature by which the primary elements of all tradition have been collected in one incomparable work, and at the same time contemporary occurrences, although recorded only from a single point of view, have been preserved to posterity ; and an artistic development which, devoted to the service of religion, created monuments of such magnitude and intrinsic importance that they have always been the admiration of posterity and have roused them to emulation. This world, containing as it did the groundwork of all human civilisation, fell under the Assyrian monarchy in the natural course

of events, Assyria herself sharing in the general development. In the ruins of Nineveh works have been found exhibiting a high degree of technical perfection, whilst the religion of Nineveh was only one particular and corrupt form of the Baal-worship, the metropolis of which the Assyrian kings were especially proud of possessing and governing as a separate kingdom attached to their own. Whilst they drew power to themselves from every quarter they protected the civilised world from the encroachment of alien elements. If we seek a general explanation of the collapse of Assyria in the actual circumstances of her history, we shall find it in the fact that she at last ceased to discharge this function. The independent tendencies of the separate nations and races were controlled, but not suppressed ; at every change of dynasty they reappeared. It is quite inconceivable that a power which owed its ascendency simply to its superiority in the arts of war could give contentment to the nations which it ruled. Still less could it be expected that the capital which was the chief seat of the religion of Egypt would seriously submit to the worship of Assur. Princes, again, such as Gyges, accustomed to be obeyed by the Greeks of Asia Minor, were little likely entirely to resign their own independence, least of all when the Assyrian monarchy was no longer able to protect them against other barbarians.

At this epoch Cimmerian and Scythian tribes were advancing, the former in Western, the latter in Upper Asia, carrying devastation in their train. Their origin, their relation to their neighbours, the course and the effect of their inroads, remain, as far as I can discover, still unsolved problems. Yet from the most ancient account we can recognise the character of the movement; it arose from hostile collisions between barbarian races still in the process of migration, one pushing the other from the regions it was occupying. The Scythians, thus hard pressed by the Massa- getas, pushed forward in their turn against the Cimmerians. The kings of the Cimmerians and their immediate adherents called upon their subjects to defend their territory. But this was not at all in accordance with the practice of these nations.

The Cimmerians were inclined to continue their migratory- life as heretofore, and carried out this intention in a war, which it appears was connected with a dissolution of the polity they had hitherto maintained. Their princes were slain, and, relieved of their restraint, the Cimmerians penetrated from the shores of the Euxine into Asia. The Scythians, however, were not contented with the district thus resigned to them. The impetus once imparted carried them further ; they made successful inroads into Upper Asia, where for a considerable period they ruled supreme. The conflicting elements are clearly marked ; we find nomadic nations effecting an inroad into regions which are already what may properly be called a civilised world, districts, that is, with a settled population, in which social progress has made a beginning, and in which some advance has been made towards a peaceful existence resting on the support of laws.

If, then, the Assyrians exercised the supreme power in these regions, on them devolved the duty of averting these attacks, and accordingly we find that it was from the Assyrians that Gyges of Lydia sought protection, binding himself for the sake of it to a kind of subjection. But Assurbanipal was far too busily engaged in quelling successive waves of insurrection to be able to secure the frontiers of Lydia, and the Cimmerians and the Scythians overran that country. We find them in Asia Minor, and the check they received at Ephesus is ascribed to the goddess of that city. They continued to press on, even as far as Philistia, where one of those Egyptian sovereigns who had risen to power as subject kings of the Assyrians, Psammetichus, the son of the first Necho, contrived by paying them a sort of tribute to save the Delta from a desolating invasion. The defence was thus really made by the subordinate powers, and the Lydians gained in consequence reputation and respect. Besides Psammetichus we find the prince of Cilicia mentioned as the ally of the Lydians. The Scythians, taking another direction, encountered the opposition of Media, then growing into a state and engaged in war with Assyria. The Median king, Kyaxares (Uvakshatara), was overthrown by them; but,

quietly and gradually collecting his forces together, he contrived, after destroying the leaders of the Scythians under the pretence of friendship, to make himself master of the nation itself. Assyria, if not already too far gone to interfere decisively, at any rate neglected to do so.

Lydia and Media, which had done the greatest service in the defence against the barbarians, now went to war with each other, the Lydians ascribing the inroad of the Scythians to the Medes themselves. The armies of the two powers met on the banks of the Halys. The battle, however, was interrupted by a natural phenomenon which both sides interpreted as an intimation from the gods counselling them to peace ; this was the eclipse of the sun which took place on September 30, B.C. 610. Such an event ought scarcely to have been needed to remind the two kings that it was their interest to abstain from tearing each other to pieces and to spend all their strength in opposing the common enemy. The two princes, Alyattes and Kyaxares, made a close family alliance. Their friendship was an indispensable preliminary to further defence against barbarians. Some years afterwards these invaders were actually compelled to abandon Asia.

Nineveh could now make no further opposition to the rebellious Medes, strengthened as they were by the success of their resistance to the Scythians. That city fell into their hands about the year 606. Whether the Babylonians lent them any assistance is, as we have already mentioned, very doubtful; but there is no doubt that they were allies of Kyaxares. The enterprises in Western Asia which we have mentioned could not have otherwise taken place. In Upper Asia, on the other hand, the Medes were supreme, and, after the brief interval of the Scythian inroad, they assumed the position of masters of the world. Inroads of this kind, which threaten with destruction the civilisation so painfully acquired, have been from time to time repeated. Amongst the latest were the invasions of the Magyars, which harassed the Carlo- vingian empire in the tenth century of our era. Kyaxares may be regarded as the unconscious prototype of the German

Henry I, who, by the check he gave to the Magyars, made the Saxons supreme in Germany.

If, however, we confine ourselves to the relations between nation and nation in the seventh and eighth centuries before our era, we find, if I mistake not, a general combination between the several races of humanity. Although the chief elements of which Assyria was composed belonged essentially to the Semitic stock, that empire was so extensive that it everywhere reached beyond the limits of the Semitic nationalities. The subjugation of Egypt is an instance in point. Ethiopians and Libyans, the Greeks in Cyprus and on the shores of the Mediterranean generally, as well as the Medo-Persian races, who belonged again to a different nationality and religion, were all disturbed and partially subjugated by Assyria. The Medes and Persians belonged to an eastern group of nations, the Greeks to the tribes which peopled the West. If we go back to those prehistoric times, the existence of which we infer from comparative philology, both must be counted among the Indo-Germanic nations, and clearly distinguished from the Semitic world, which had just been making an attempt to overpower those branches of the Indo-Germanic family. Whether an accommodation would be arranged between the active elements of the Semitic world and the Grecian as well as the Medo-Persian elements settled in its immediate neighbourhood was one of the problems of universal history. Both sides, however, came into conflict with nations belonging to the third section of the primeval races of mankind. The inroad of the Scythians, who are of Mongolian stock, menaced with destruction the Semitic world as it was then united under the sceptre of the Assyrian kings. They were repulsed, not by the Assyrians, but by the Medes. In the struggle the latter came into conflict with neighbouring nations, such as the Lydians, among whom again Semitic elements can be recognised. It is the Medes who at length secure the civilised world, as we may already call it, against that inroad.

We find in the inscriptions of the kings of Assyria frequent mention of their enterprises against Media and its

incessant resistance, as well as of wars against the Parsua, who refuse to acknowledge the god Assur. In these undertakings the Assyrians' always figure as victorious, and we may at least with certainty infer from this that till the last quarter of the seventh century no independent power had established itself in these regions.

As to the manner, however, in which such a power was first formed by the Medes, and how this was succeeded by a union between the Medes and the Persians, we possess nothing but legendary accounts. These, as preserved to us through the Greeks, bear quite a different stamp from that of the oriental records. The narrative which Herodotus gives of Deiokes and the origin of the Median kingdom is no more than an ingenious and well-invented legend. Its peculiar feature is that it traces the origin of the monarchy not to arms, elsewhere the invariable road to succcss, but to that other attribute of the supreme power, the administration of justice. The most just man was chosen to be chief ruler by free election, and, in order to bestow a higher authority upon him than upon the rest of his race, a fortress was built for him, in which he took up his residence. Whilst the people of Israel had demanded a king, primarily to go before them to battle, and in the second place to administer right and justice, it was the latter object which, according to the legend, was the principal one in Media ; the fortress is, in fact, built as a defence against foreign molestation. No one will believe in the literal correctness of this account. All that it proves is that the tradition in Media premised other than the usual motives. It is very possible that the names Deiokes and Astyages are rather appellatives than personal names. On the other hand, Kyaxares, who successfully achieved the defence against the Scythian and the conquest of Nineveh, is an indisputably historical character. The process, however, by which the supremacy which he obtained was transferred to the Persians and extended in Western Asia is again the subject of legendary narratives, which cannot possibly be accepted in the form in which they are preserved.

appears the mighty form of Cyrus (Curu, Cores'), disguised indeed in legendary traits, and at a later time exalted to the gods, but yet recognisable as an historical figure. Of the history given of his youth, according to which he was nearly related to the Median king Astyages, a circumstance which imperilled the very first moments of his existence, perhaps the only part which belongs to the original Persian myth is that the founder of the Persian empire was suckled by a bitch, as the founder of the Roman empire was by a she-wolf. A national stamp is also impressed upon the story of his rise to power. In this story Cyrus, himself a member of the principal Persian tribe, the Pasargada;, and of the principal family in that tribe, the Achsemenidie, gathers the Persians round him and rouses them to a consciousness of their position. First of all, by compulsory labour of the baser kind, he displays the servile condition in which they are content to live ; then, by a splendid entertainment, he introduces them to the sweets of power which are within their reach. Disgust at the first stimulates them to an eager endeavour to achieve the second. On the other hand it may be regarded as an originally Median tradition that it was the alliance of Median kings with the young Persian, who claimed the throne by hereditary right, which brought about the defeat of the king of Media and the transference of his power to Cyrus. According to this view, Cyrus, in the closest alliance with the Medes, although himself of a different “nationality and religion, founds a Medo-Persian monarchy in the place of the Assyrian. A rich garland of legend adorns his struggle with the Lydians, in which he continued the work of Kyaxares, conquered Croesus, king of Lydia, and made Sardis the seat of a Persian satrapy. He then proceeds to the conquest of Babylon. The legend unites details which are simply mythical, the distribution, for example, of a river into 360 canals, with an exploit which verges on the incredible, the seizure of the defences which the Babylonians had erected for their capital in connection with the irrigation system of the Euphrates. Prudent generalship and wonderful success are combined in the person of Cyrus: this is the essential

truth which the legend yields us. Cyrus became master of the whole region which Nebuchadnezzar had held in subjection, but was not a worshipper of the deities whom Syria and Babylon had opposed to the religion of Jehovah.

The fact that the Persian, the votary of monotheism, puts an end to the exile of the Jews, who believe in Jehovah, and lets them return to Jerusalem, has its political as well as its religious aspect. The influence of the Assyrians settled in Canaan is now counterbalanced by a community immediately established by the king himself and unreservedly devoted to him, which secures for him the possession of Western Asia. Then Cyrus turns his arms against those enemies who had formerly shaken the Assyrian empire to its foundations, especially against the Massagetse. It was they who had, from beyond the Jaxartes, driven the Scythians, a race of kindred stock, to make the expedition alluded to above. We dare not attempt to repeat the marvellous narrative of Herodotus. It is the less necessary to do so because there are other traditions which, though diverging in details, agree in the main fact that the great conqueror did not return from this campaign.¹ Legend invents no facts and describes no characters; it only seizes upon the principal enterprises and enhances their success or failure by embellishments of a corresponding colour. The Scythians remained unsubdued, but at the same time desisted from further inroads into the Persian empire. We need only pay attention to the main facts, which are undeniably historical. The general result is that through the Medo-Persian power Cyrus infused new life into the Assyrian empire, and thus in a certain sense restored it, whilst he discarded the religious violence which the Assyrians and Babylonians had exercised. He intro-

¹ The death of Cyrus falls in the year 529, the conquest of Babylon 9 years earlier, i. e. 538. Solinus (c. 112) places the capture of Sardis in the 58th Olympiad, Eusebius (ap. Hieron.) in the first year of this Olympiad, i.e. 549 B.C. Herodotus (1. 214) makes Cyrus reign for 29 years after his victory over Astyages, so that the latter event is to be assigned to the year 558. Eusebius gives Cyrus a reign of 30 years from the fall of Astyages (i.e. in the Canon; 31 years in the Chronography). Thirty years is the period assigned also by Ctesias, Dinon (ap. Muller, Frag. Hist. Grac. ii. p. 91, frgt. 10), and Trogus Pompeius (ap. Justin, i. 8, 14).

Nevertheless the universal empire was not yet united, as it had been under Esarhaddon or Assurbanipal. Cam- byses, son of Cyrus, boasted that he was greater than his father, perhaps because he acquired Egypt also and obtained maritime supremacy. He conquered Egypt with the assistance of the Arabians, and thus made his approach by way of the desert, as an Assyrian and perhaps also a Babylonian king, in antagonism to the Greeks, upon whom the Pharaohs of that time placed more reliance than on the power of their own kingdom. We can scarcely repeat what the Greek legend, as given by Herodotus, tells us of Cambyses This story represents him as a despiser of the Egyptian religion, and makes him give the god Apis, on his reappearance in his animal form, a wound in the shank, of which the animal dies. But we find an Egyptian monument on which he is represented making supplication to Apis,¹ and an inscription belonging to a high official who was his contemporary affirms circumstantially that the king spared the Egyptian worship, and even promoted its interests. According to this we should have to regard him as an opponent of innovations attempted by the Assyrian kings in Egypt, as his father had been of those in Judaea.

The account of his enterprises against the long-lived Ethiopians and the Ammonians rests upon a better historic foundation. The monuments attest that the Persians made invasions in both directions. Meroe itself was conquered by Cambyses, and perhaps restored and renovated. Again, on the way towards the temple of Ammon we find traces of the Persian domination. The narrative only gives in general terms the limits of their expeditions ; the more remote goals may have been aimed at, but were never reached. The Persian

¹ The account Herodotus gives of the death of Cambyses is of very doubtful credit, from the fact that he has connected it with the slaughter of Apis ; if the one is incorrect the other must be equally so. In the same way his account of the death of Smerdis cannot be maintained, since we learn from evidence which admits of no doubt that this took place even before the march of Cambyses into Egypt.

supremacy on the Mediterranean also was not unlimited. We hear that the Phoenicians declined to let their navy be employed in an attack upon Carthage. There, accordingly, one centre of the Semitic dominion by sea maintained itself in complete independence. In short, limits were set to the Persian empire towards the west as well as towards the north. We find the Assyrian empire annihilated at a single blow, and after a brief interval the Persian empire in the ascendant. The sequence of the events is obscure, and every detail comes to us in a legendary form.

The main fact is that in the second half of the sixth century, after the Assyrian empire had suddenly disappeared, a Medo-Persian empire rose upon its ruins, and far surpassed it in dimensions. It was of essential importance, if the nations were to be held together under one rule, that the centre of the universal monarchy should be moved further towards the east. From theirprincipal seats in Iran the Persian monarchy extended to India. It is impossible to speak of a conquest of the world by the Persians in the strict sense of the word. Power had fallen into the hands of the Medo-Persians through the capture of a single city. The Lydians had before this been subject to Assyria ; if Babylon had to be reconquered, its independence was of late date; while the conquest of Egypt was but the renewal of the dominion which the Assyrians had lost a short time before. The Persians passed beyond the old frontier simply by associating their own native land with the empire, although it is true that this brought with it the accession of certain regions of India and opened the way towards the east.

When, however, we take into consideration the constant revolts made by towns or districts in the assertion of their independence even under the Assyrians, revolts only suppressed by the exertion of superior force, and then consider further the natural difficulties which hindered the maintenance of supreme power over all these distinct provinces, it becomes obvious at once what consequences were involved by the sudden collapse of the dominant family, which had only just risen to power. This family was a

branch, the elder branch, of the Achaemenidae. The event which brought prominently forward the great question connected with it was the crime of Cambyses, who with the jealousy of a despot put to death his own brother. How the occurrence was explained in Egypt appears from the narrative in Herodotus, who could but repeat what he was told. It was said that Cambyses, jealous of the bodily strength of his brother, sent him home from Egypt, and subsequently, warned by a dream, gave orders to slay him ; but, instead of the news of his brother’s death, came, on the contrary, the tidings that all the people were joining him. Assured that the murder had really been accomplished, Cambyses set himself in motion with his Egyptian army to suppress the insurrection which had broken out under the pretext that his brother was still alive. But at the outset of the campaign he accidentally inflicted upon himself a wound of the same kind as that by which he had slain Apis, and of this wound he died soon afterwards. This, however, could not be true if, so far from destroying Apis, he had paid him homage. The whole story rests upon fable and hearsay. The name Cambyses is, and will remain for ever, a kind of symbol of all the abominations of an odious tyranny. But the connection of events related in his history as delivered to the Greeks, and by them to the world, cannot be maintained.

Happily we have a Persian inscription, far superior to those of the Assyrians in completeness of detail, though otherwise resembling them in form, from which we derive better information as to the course of events. It is the first document in Persian history which makes us feel that we are upon firm ground. Like the Assyrian inscriptions, it is drawn up in the name of the king. From this inscription we learn that Cambyses had destroyed his brother even before his enterprise against Egypt, but that the crime was kept a secret. As soon as it became known there was a universal commotion, especially in the army. The word which signifies ¹ army' may also stand for the state. Both alike were exposed to danger if there were only a single scion of the family to which they were attached. It has been doubted whether by the army is

meant that division of it which went with Cambyses to Egypt or the other which remained behind. There is no apparent reason why it may not have been both. In the conflict that ensued Cambyses died by his own hand.¹

The consequence of this was that the question of the succession, which had excited the tumult among the troops, entered upon a stage in which it assumed its full importance; for the power of the Achsemenidae depended upon the relationship existing between the ruling family of the Persians and that of the Medes, a consideration of no light importance. Although it has not seldom happened that nations which have been conquered have tried to find a kind of consolation in discovering for their new prince ties of descent connecting him with the old dynasty, it is an experience even more common that unions of an analogous kind have been formed with the express intention of alleviating the bitterness of the transfer from one dynasty to another. The powerful nation of the Medes would scarcely have brought themselves to submit to the Persians without some such union. With Cambyses, however, the line which could lay claim to the Median throne by right of descent came abruptly to an end. The Achaemenidae, though their race was still propagated in another line, had no part in this affinity, and so were excluded from all claim to continue the dynasty. On the other hand the Medes, in like manner, had no right to

' The passage in the inscription at Bisitun which refers to the death of Cambyses has been very variously translated. In Benfey the translation runs,

‘ Cambubiya died of excessive rage.’ Others suppose that he killed himself, but think this may be reconciled with the account of Herodotus, as it is not said he slew himself intentionally. Kossowicz has ‘ a-se-allata-sibi-morte decessit.’ On the other hand, it may be objected that where the self-destruction spoken of was not the result of deliberate intention this is a fact which would need to be added even in the style proper to stone inscriptions, else it would be unintelligible to every one. In the inscription, for example, of Darius, amid all the varieties of translation, that an intentional and not an accidental suicide must be indicated admits of no doubt. We might even find in the action a touch of heroism, could we venture to assume that Cambyses, abandoned by his army and his people, destroyed himself in an access of despair.

(Added in ed. 2) According to a communication from Eberhard Schrader, the Assyrio.-Babylonic text of the inscription leaves no doubt of the fact that Cambyses died by suicide. He translates it, ■ After this Cambyses died the death of himself.’

claim supremacy over the Persians. If they did so notwithstanding, it was only by assuming a disguise. One of the Magians, who, it is to be remembered, are a tribe of the Medes, gave himself out for a brother of Cambyses, expecting thus to be able to count upon the obedience of the Persians as well. This is the Pseudo-Smerdis so universally known through the Greek tradition ; among the Persians he appears under the name Gaumata. It is perfectly true that he kept himself in strict retirement, in order not to be seen by any one who had known the younger son of Cyrus ; indeed, there is much generally in the Greek narratives which has the accent of truth. It is only the vicissitudes of the harem, the neighing horse, and the other pleasant histories with which they beguile the hearer or reader that we must hesitate to repeat after them ; and so also with the disquisitions on the best form of polity, which are said to have preceded the elevation of the new king to the throne. This king himself simply affirms that the Persians were convinced that the younger son of Cyrus had been murdered, and were not disposed to submit to the usurpation of the Magian.

Among the Achoemenidse there was a young man who was determined to assert his rights. Acting in concert with the chiefs of the six other Persian tribes, he forced his way into the palace of Gaumata and slew him.¹ It was, we may say, the combined act of all the Persians, the chiefs of their tribes uniting for the purpose. They were unwilling to be governed by any Median, least of all by one who did not scruple to do violence to their old institutions and usages, including even those of religion. Darius, says in the inscription, ‘ I took the kingdom from him, and restored it as it had existed before him. I was king.’ This violent occupation, however, brought the other side of the question into prominence. It remained to be seen whether the Medes would obey a Persian, and whether the other nations would acknowledge the supremacy of an usurper. •

¹ Cambyses reigned seven years and five months, Pseudo-Smerdis eightmonths : the beginning of the reign of Darius Hystaspis falls in the year 521.

before the reign of Cyrus had been in possession of complete independence. Almost the first act of the new government was a campaign undertaken by Darius against them. He found it no easy task to conquer them. They opposed him in his passage of the Tigris, and again in a pitched battle. The legend is that he was then compelled to undertake a long siege, in which he succeeded by a stratagem which more than verges on the incredible. He himself speaks only of his victories, as the result of which he had taken the city and relieved himself of his principal antagonist, who falsely called himself king. Darius attributes much to the fact that Auramazda, his god, declared in his favour. What support religion may have lent to his dynasty we shall not attempt to determine. But there are other circumstances which lead to the conclusion that the conquest of Babylon laid the foundation of the new supremacy. It rendered possible the formation of a new army> consisting of Medes as well as of Persians, which took up an invincible position in the midst of the insurrections that broke out in all quarters of the empire.

Of all these insurrections the most important was beyond doubt that of Media, where Phraortes, as a descendant of Kyaxares, the real founder of the Median monarchy, assumed the character of king. This brought to an issue the most important of all the questions affecting the relationship between the dominant Median and Persian families, the question which of them should have possession of the crown and control of the army. The circumstance which, as the inscription notes, decided the issue was that the army, though composed both of Medes and Persians, was not misled or shaken by these conflicting claims, but continued faithful to Darius. He could even venture to commit the conduct of the war in Media to one of his principal lieutenants. Phraortes, who had been recognised only in a portion of the country, was not in a condition to resist the veteran troops of Darius. He was defeated without much trouble (December 27, 521), and the victors could quietly await the arrival of their king in Media. Darius arrived, and Phraortes marched to encounter him in person. He was defeated, and retired with the most

faithful of his followers to Ragha, where he fell into the hands of the troops of Darius and was brought before him. He then suffered the hideous punishment inflicted on a traitor. His tongue, ears, and nose were cut off, and he was shown in this condition to all the people; after that he was nailed to the cross in Ecbatana, whilst the most important of his adherents remained prisoners in the fortress there.

In my opinion this is to be regarded as the decisive event in the competition for the crown. The claim of the Magian was in itself untenable, and its falsehood was barely concealed by a transparent fraud. It was a matter of far more serious import when a leader arose who derived his'origin from Kyaxares : such a leader really represented the Median as opposed to the Persian interest. That he was defeated was the achievement of an army, with the king at its head, composed of Medes as well as Persians. The conquests of Cyrus and Cambyses had only been preliminary steps ; it was under Darius that the empire was for the first time firmly established.

Close upon these events in Media follows a revolt in Sagartia, which was reckoned as belonging to Media. Here another presumed descendant of Kyaxares arose, only, however, to meet with the same fate as Phraortes : he was conquered, made prisoner, mutilated, and crucified. Phraortes had numerous adherents in Parthia and Hyrcania. Vistagpa, or Hystaspes, the father of Darius, marched against them and defeated them. Darius, however, considered it necessary, even when he had mastered Phraortes, to send Persian auxiliaries to his father from Ragha. These encountered the rebels in a victorious battle. ‘ Then,’ says Darius, ‘ the province was mine.’

An insurrection in Margiana was quelled by the satrap of Bactria. But Darius was not perfectly sure even of the people of Persia, since he did not belong to the line of the Achae- menidae, which had ruled hitherto. In Persia arose a potentate who gave himself out as Bardija, the son of Cyrus, and actually found a following. The king sent a Medo- Persian army against him. The Medes had now to assist him to conquer Persians. The new monarchy triumphed

both over its Median and its Persian antagonists. But the false Bardija had been so powerful that he had been able to send an army to Arachosia against the army ‘ which called itself that of King Darius.’ After his defeat and death in Persia his army in Arachosia could not maintain itself. Arachosia was subdued by Vivana, the general of Darius. This great conflict, which appears to have taken up an entire year, was accompanied by an obstinate rising in Armenia, the task of subduing which was first entrusted by the king to an Armenian who had remained faithful to his service, and who was successful in overthrowing the insurgents in three separate engagements. But the -standard of revolt was constantly raised anew ; indeed, the situation would seem to have become more dangerous, since soon afterwards we find the Armenian army in Assyria. Darius then sent against the insurgents a Persian, who inflicted a defeat upon them on December 15, 520. A second engagement followed in Armenia itself, in which the Persians maintained their advantage.

We may here note the difference between the Assyrian cuneiform inscriptions and the Persian. The former devote a greater amount of attention to their antagonists, and give more details concerning their preparations and subsidiary forces ; the inscription of Darius contents itself with recounting the final results. Another difference is that Darius acts more through his generals, whilst the Assyrian kings, almost without exception, head their troops themselves.

In this manner the provinces which formed the core of the Persian empire were brought into subjection, after a course of long and sanguinary wars, involving the destruction of those who resisted. The Achaemenid remained master of the field and in possession of the throne. The principal instrument in attaining this end was the Medo-Persian army, which, as far as we see, was organised immediately upon the death of the Magian, subjugated Babylon, and afterwards, upon the breaking out of internal dissensions, remained faithful to Darius. The conflict is always one between two distinct armies, one of which acknowledges King Darius, and is sometimes even attacked on that ground ; while the other, as the king

says, refuses to be his army, and follows other leaders. When Darius, in relating his victories, avers upon each occasion that they fell to him through the grace of Auramazda, the meaning seems to be much the same as that of the declaration made, as we have seen, by Esarhaddon and Assurbanipal that all their victories were to be ascribed to the god Assur. Yet in this case also there is a difference, the significance of which is unmistakable : for Assur and the goddess who for the most part is named with him are warrior deities ; Auramazda is a god of justice and truth. Subjection means with the Assyrians subjugation by violence, with the Persians the fulfilment of a supreme will. That which most contributes to the elevation of Darius is that his opponents’ claim was based on falsehood. The protection which Auramazda lends him he traces to the fact that he is the true king, before whom the kings of falsehood must needs be overthrown. This premises that the supremacy had with justice fallen to the Achaemenidse, and had been reached by the transition from the one line to the other, of which Darius, son of Hystaspes, was the representative. Thus far he is the true king, and is recognised as such by Auramazda. This is the purport of the admonition addressed by Darius to his successors upon the throne to avoid all falsehood, never to show favour to any liar or traitor ; for this would be to run counter to the conception of a true monarchy. Royal authority thus obtains a moral significance to which the whole structure of the kingdom and the state must be made to conform.

This conception is most intimately connected with the view of the universe presented in the Persian religion. In the Zend-Avesta, the principal archive, as we must consider it, of that religion, much is found which accords with the mythology and the usages of ancient India. These conceptions, however, are by no means identical. It has been remarked that Ahura, the supreme god of the Persians, is converted in the Asura of the Hindus into an evil spirit, whilst, on the contrary, the Devas of the Hindus become in the Davas of the Persians evil spirits and ministers of Angro-mainyus. We do not venture to deny the identity of

the two systems in prehistoric times, but we are just as little disposed directly to assume it. In the epoch at which the two religions appear historically side by side they certainly appear in antagonism. The faith of the Hindus and the faith of the Persians maybe brethren, but they are certainly hostile brethren. The special characteristic of the Persian religion consists in its dualism.

If we keep well in view the contrasts between the various districts and nations included within the limits of Persia and her provinces, the incessant struggle between the settled populations and the inhabitants of the steppes, between the cultivated regions and the desolation of the desert, thrust back_j indeed, yet ever resuming its encroachments, the ideas of the Zend-Avesta will appear to us natural and, as we may term them, autochthonic. Auramazda is the god of the husbandman. The Vendidad begins with a conversation between the sacred founder of the religion, Zarathustra,¹ whose personality is lost to us in myth, and Ormuzd, the god of the good, whose name here appears in the form Ahuramazda, in which the latter declares that when yet there was no habitable place he created an abode of beauty. ‘ A creation of beauty, the first of created places, have I created ; the second one, destructive to mankind, did Angro-mainyus contrariwise create.’ ‘ The first and best of places and sites have I created, I that am Ahuramazda.’ It is, so to speak, a successive creation of the Iranian lands which Auramazda ascribes to himself. Among the names are found in forms not difficult to recognise Sog- diana, Merv, Bactria, Arachosia, Ragha in Media, probably also Taberistan and India. To all this work Ahriman, full charged with death, opposes not only destructive creatures, such as huge serpents, deadly wasps, protracted winters, but also—and this is very remarkable—intellectual and moral hindrances, great doubts, idleness with poverty in its train, inexpiable crimes, unnatural lust, and murder.

¹ It has been thought that the name Zoroaster can be recognised in this form. Zoroaster is, however, a figure at once religious and mythical, whose date can no longer be determined. His name has never been explained ; his native land is unknown.

The principal god, Ormuzd, is certainly revealed as creator of the world and giver of all good ; but nowhere was the conception of evil so vivid as in the religion of the Zend. In the beginning, it is said in the Zend-Avesta, there were twins, the Spirits of Good and Evil. The creator of the world is the Spirit of Good, but is opposed by the destructive power of the Evil Spirit, Ahriman, almost as by an equal. There are, indeed, indications which would seem to show that, this view being found inadequate, the existence of a primordial Being, supreme over both principles, had been assumed. According to a passage in the Bundehesh this Being is Time, in which all things are developed ; and accordingly we find definite periods fixed for the struggle between Ahriman and Ormuzd. But this, at any rate, shows that a supreme intelligence, upon which everything depends, and which only permits the existence of evil, was not assumed by the Persians. All created things are regarded as designed for the struggle against evil. What elsewhere manifested itself as the salutary power of nature is here regarded as a host of companions in arms in the service of Ahuramazda against the evil principle. Everything is part of the struggle between light and darkness, waged in the universe and upon earth. The Greeks remarked with astonishment that the deity was worshipped without image or altar, and that the sacrifice was nothing but the present of a gift. From Xenophon’s ‘ Cyropaedia ’ we see that they also recognised the moral impulse by which the Persian religion was inspired. In this, perhaps, we ought to recognise the distinctive character of the Persian dualism. Man is, or ought to be, the ally of Ahuramazda, and thus every virtue becomes for him a matter of duty.

The object upon earth most pleasing to the deity is a wise man who brings his offering ; next to this, a holy and well- ordered household, with all that belongs thereto ; third in order is the place where cultivation succeeds in producing the greatest quantity of corn, fodder, and fruit-bearing trees, where dry land is watered or marshy land is drained. The Egyptian religion is based upon the nature of the valley of the Nile, the Persian upon the agriculture of Iran. In

the institutions of the sacred books which belong to a later epoch little is said of the monarchy.¹ But it is evident that a high position was assigned to it in the ancient times to which Darius belonged. The king, who, although not established by the Supreme God, is yet acknowledged by Him as the rightful monarch, is at the same time the champion of all good in opposition to evil; he carries out the will of Auramazda. The whole kingdom is organised in this spirit, and the king, as the expression of the Divine Will, has, so to speak, a right to govern the world. Yet such a design could not have been entertained if the dualistic religion had already been crystallised into a system, and had to be violently forced upon the subject nations. So far was this from being the case that in the western regions of Iran it is seen to be accessible to foreign influences derived from Mesopotamia. In Armenia the worship of Anahit, originally akin to that of Astarte, prevailed. If, as Herodotus affirms, the Persians were of all nations the readiest to adopt foreign usages, it was impossible for them to persecute such usages from religious zeal. The Persian religion, which asserted such high claims for its king, was nevertheless tolerant of those local faiths which prevailed in the provinces of the empire. This was necessary for the maintenance of the position occupied by the Persian as a universal monarchy ; it marks the essential character of the empire, which first enjoyed a settled order and constitution under Darius.

The solidity of the Persian power rested upon the fact that it had nothing to fear in the East; Persia even ruled over a part of India, although without crossing the Indus. The fortifications on the Iaxartes guarded against the inroads of the Massagetae and other nomad tribes. Further westward the Caucasus formed an impenetrable barrier. That frontier was not overstepped until the invasion of Genghis Khan led to a

¹ Yima, the GemsdQd of the later Persians, appears in the Zend-Avesta as the founder of orderly life and of agriculture. He regulates the earth, introducing the best trees and nutritive vegetation into different districts, bringing thither water supplies and establishing dwellings in them (Lassen, Indische Alterthumskunde,

i. p. 518). If other nations worshipped the powers of nature, the Persian religion bound men to subjugate evil in the natural world.

struggle between East and West which continues at the present day. Thus the Persians had no more to fear from the North than from the East. Then came the great water basins, the Black Sea and the ^Egean, whose coasts they occupied without being masters of the sea itself. The remoter roadsteads of the Mediterranean stood to the Persians in the same relationship as to the Assyrians ; in Egypt they did not push beyond the frontiers of the old kingdom of the Pharaohs ; on the other^ hand we hear no more of hostile attacks on the part of the Ethiopians. The frontiers continued the same until Roman times. The Persians would have had most cause to be apprehensive from the side of Arabia, but these tribes had not as yet the aggressive impulse which they derived at a later date from religion ; if they were not to be trusted, they were not actively hostile.

The districts included within these boundaries were divided by Darius into satrapies, which he generally entrusted to Persians of the royal house or of other families of special eminence. With the satraps were associated officials immediately dependent on the king, who limited their prerogatives and kept them in subservience to the will of their supreme head. Everything depended on the recognition and maintenance of the regal authority, which had put an end to the struggle between the several nationalities. It will be readily understood that this authority was incompatible with the peculiar development of these nationalities. The government of the king manifested itself everywhere as an alien power. The Persians did not content themselves, like the Assyrians, with an uncertain tribute ; dependence was clearly expressed in a careful assessment. Yet the old independence of the nations was not absolutely suppressed. There were still populations which maintained chiefs of their own race, or were not to be brought to any kind of obedience. Persia was frequently at feud with them, but, willingly or unwillingly, had to tolerate their existence. The warlike Carians did military service, but under their old chieftains. Sardis, where a Persian garrison now kept the citadel, was not much less of a capital than it had been before under its own kings,

and the closer connexion into which it was brought with the East gave to its trade and industry a new impetus. In Cappadocia, which was governed by satraps of the Achae- menid line, whose descendants in later days were kings of Pontus, we find sacerdotal governments and limited monarchies almost independent of Persia. In Paphlagonia we find chieftains who were in a position to bring 120,000 men into the field. The people of eastern Bithynia also were under their own princes ; so were the Cilicians, whose rulers were often engaged in war with the satraps. Tarsus rose in importance through the great commerce between the northern and southern provinces of the empire. Even under the Persian dominion Damascus and Palmyra maintained their ancient fame and splendour.

The Armenians continued to live, as heretofore, in their patriarchal fashion, their daily occupation being the rearing of cattle. The satrap had to live in an unfortified place. From Xenophon’s ‘ Anabasis ’ we see how much independence was possessed by the populations between Mesopotamia and the Black Sea. Babylon remained, as heretofore, the chief seat of religion and of trade. The ancient Elam had, however, become, we may say, the centre of the empire. Here, in Shushan or Susa, the City of Lilies, was the principal palace of the king, the ruins of which resemble those of Babylon and Nineveh. The towns were all built of brick. In the mountains independent peoples maintained themselves, such as the Cushaeans and Uxians, to whom the kings were compelled to guarantee rich presents of gold before they could visit Persepolis unmolested. To the satrapy of Media belonged a number of rebellious mountain tribes, and the agrarian contrast between cultivated land and wilderness was nearly coincident with that between subjects and rebels. The Mardians were perfectly free, none even venturing to attack them. Bactria rivalled Media in cultivation and in density of population, but presented the same contrasts of steppes and excessively fruitful districts. It was here that the religion of Zoroaster had struck its deepest root. At a later date it became a special centre of Graeco-

Asiatic culture. Parthia and Hyrcania were united in one satrapy; the Parthians were poor, the Hyrcanians were in more tempting regions, but found independence in their forests. They seem, as we infer from the name of their capital, to have kept their old rulers. Their district has had a reputation, both in ancient and modern times, as the home of excellent warriors. On the further side of the Oxus was Sogdiana, the most important of the frontier provinces, which had constantly to repel the invasion of the nomad tribes of the north, and to this end was provided with a series of fortresses, one of which bore the name of Cyrus, the remotest of the strongholds which perpetuated the memory of the founder of the empire.

In the centre of Iran, Persia itself, the home of the race and nation, Darius founded a royal city of great splendour, the ruins of which, by their squared masonry and the royal sepulchres adjacent, remind us of the buildings of Egypt As in Egypt, the builders took the marble from the mountains in the neighbourhood, and thus were enabled to transcend their models in Assyria and Babylon. Per- sepolis appears to have grown, as it were, out of the mountain. On broad steps, most carefully wrought out of huge blocks of marble, the ascent is made to the first terrace, the entrance to which is adorned with the wonderful animal forms of Iranian mythology, the unicorn, the symbol of strength, and the winged lion, which, decorated with the diadem, symbolises the irresistible power of the monarchy. On the ascent to the second terrace are on one side the Medes and Persians, to whom the supremacy belonged, represented in their respective costumes ; and on the other deputations of the subject nations, offering their presents. The regions from which they come are indicated by their dresses ; some are completely clothed in furs, others only girded round the loins with a leathern apron.

An image of the king is carried by three ranks of male figures, who stand with upraised arms, like Caryatidae, one above the other. The dress of the first rank is entirely Medo- Persian. In the lowest rank it has been thought the costume

and hair of negroes can be distinguished. On the second terrace the king is represented granting audience to an ambassador. Behind him stands an eunuch, with a veil over his mouth and a fan in his hand. The ambassador is seen in a reverential attitude, and he too holds his hand before his mouth, that his breath may not touch the king. It is a splendid monument of the old empire of the nations, in which dignity and fancy are exhibited on a grand scale. It derives a still higher value than that imparted by its columns and relievos from the inscriptions, which, on the building itself and on the sepulchres, express, in the different languages of the empire, the pride of the ruler in his exploits and his dominion.

On several parts of the building may be read the inscription, ‘ Darius, the great king, the king of kings, the king of the countries, the son of Vistagpa, the Achsemenid, has erected this house.’ It is above all things his origin and the extension of his power over other kings and nations which is attributed to the originator of the building as the foundation of his glory. On the walls of the second terrace two other inscriptions are found, in which the help of the god Auramazda, who is the greatest of gods and rules all countries, is at once celebrated and invoked. In the first of these the Persian monarchy proper occupies the foreground : it said, ‘ This land of Persia, which Auramazda granted me, which is beautiful and populous, through the protection of Auramazda and of me, King Darius, fears no enemy.’ ‘ May no enemy come into this province, no army, no scarcity, no falsehood. For this boon I entreat Auramazda and the gods of the country.’ It is noticeable that besides Auramazda the gods of the country generally are invoked. It might be concluded from this that the religion of Ormuzd was one first introduced at a later date. What is perfectly clear, however, is that’ Ormuzd tolerated other gods beside himself, whilst remaining himself the principal deity. From him is derived dominion, the dominion at once of law and of universal order.

The second inscription has special reference to the subject countries and nations. The king describes himself as‘great king, the king of kings, king of the many countries,’ which he then names one after another to the number of twenty-four.

He says expressly that he governs them with the Persian army; that he may not need to tremble before any enemy, he prays that Auramazda may protect the Persian army. ‘ If the Persian army is protected, the Persian fortune will endure uninterrupted to the remotest time.’¹ These are no exaggerated phrases, like those of the Egyptian and Assyrian inscriptions, which may, notwithstanding, have served as a model ; they do but express the real circumstances of the empire. We recognise here the conditions of dominion stated in progressive sequence. First we see the born king, who is not identified with the deity ; he distinguishes between the protection of the god and his own, as jointly securing the land of Persia from every enemy. Backed by the dense population of Persia, he next becomes master of the rest of the world. On the army depends the welfare and prosperity of the empire, which nevertheless is not regarded as forming a single whole, but as a union of separate subject races. How it became so, and what is the basis of the dominion, is next explained in a fourth inscription, which adorns the sepulchre of Darius. The king himself is represented upon the outside, a fire flaming before him and his right hand raised in prayer, whilst above him is a winged form, which Herder took to be the ‘ Ferver ’ (genius) of the king. In the Ferver, perhaps, lies the deepest moral idea of the Zend-Avesta. It is the pure essence of the spiritual creature, from which it is inseparable yet distinct, created by Ormuzd for the express purpose of contending against Ahriman, and therefore by nature combative.² The king has his bow in his left hand, just as among the Assyrians the god who decides the battle appears with bent bow. The strong bow, with skill to bend it, is the symbol of strength.

' Spiegel (Keiliiischriften, p. 47), to whose translation I adhere, although in Oppert and Menant divergent renderings are found. A Russian press has lhe merit of having published the ancient Persian cuneiform inscriptions with the addition of facsimiles, and accompanied by a Latin translation and various welcome annotations. This is the work of Cajetan Kossowicz, Inscriptiones Palieopersictz Achamenidarum, Petropoli, 1872.

¹ What was formerly taken to be the Ferver more recent judges explain to be the image of the god himself.

In the inscription attached to this design the king is called not only the great king, but the king of the countries of all languages, the king of this great and wide earth. Once more the countries are enumerated which, besides Persia, were governed by the king. The list is more complete than the former one, a fact which of itself would point to a later date ; in it the Medes figure most prominently, and there are added ‘ the Ionians with the braided hair.’ ‘ I rule them,’ says the king ; ‘ they bring me tribute. What I order, that they do ; my law is obeyed.’ ‘ Auramazda delivered over to me these countries when he saw them in uproar,¹ and granted me dominion over them. By the grace of Auramazda I have brought them to order again.’ Then he again lays stress upon the valour of the Persians, through which so much has been achieved. ' If thou askest how many were the countries which King Darius governed, look at the picture of those who bear my throne, that thou mayest know them. Then wilt thou know that the spear of the Persian warrior hath advanced far, that the Persian warrior hath fought battles far from Persia.’

The reason given for the establishment of the dominion is that all countries were in uproar—a state of things to which, it is represented, the supreme god wished to put an end, effecting his object at length through the valour of the Persians. We cannot exactly call this an exaggeration; for as far as historical evidence extends there was always, especially in the western regions, an internal struggle, in which the Persians interfered and with their superior forces decided the issue. It was in this way that the whole edifice of their power was raised. The idea of order, of goodness, and of truth is everywhere predominant.

We may here pause, for we only proposed to recall to mind the internal conflicts of the ancient world up to the point in which they resulted in a condition of equilibrium and tranquillity. Such a condition is revealed to us in the monu

¹ According to the translations of Menant and Oppert the meaning should be ‘saw them held captive in superstition,’ which involves no great difference, since uproar was always coincident with religions claims.

ments and inscriptions we have mentioned. Darius himself is, if we may use the expression, a monumental figure in history. It was thus that the Persians of later times regarded him ; he is the original of Jemshid, the principal monarch of legend, to whom all peaceful ordinances are ascribed. In ^Eschylus, who was near in date to these times, and an enemy, Darius is represented as a paragon of greatness, goodness, and felicity.

The Book of the Heroes of Iran, the poem of Firdusi, by which all views of the East have for centuries been regulated, is a kind of universal history, linked to the central figures of the Achsemenidse and the great king of the Medes, the Persians, and the Bactrians, the three races which compose the ancient Iran. In the story that this kingdom falls to the gentlest and most intelligent of the sons of Feridun we may trace that idea of culture which was in fact the vital principle of the old Persian monarchy. It was thus that Xenophon, who was near in date to that epoch, and who had himself visited the East, conceived of Persia. In his Cyrus he sets up his ideal of a monarch ; he is one who combines every form of culture with power. Aristotle did not entirely share this view; in his opinion power might be far better developed were the nations free like the Greeks.

> In the foreground of universal history are found, as we have before intimated, not great kingdoms, but rather communities within narrow limits, belonging indeed to tribal associations of wider extent, but yet developing a social unity of their own, with an energy and vitality of individual stamp. Religion forms a bond of union, but there are local divisions, similar to those of the Canaanitish tribes before the attacks of the Egyptians and the invasion of the Israelites., In this circle the Phoenicians stand out in conspicuous relief, dwelling in cities or districts far apart yet interdependent, and endowed with an industrial and commercial activity of the widest range. Independent communities maintained their ground over the whole of Syria, in Mesopotamia, at the sources of the Euphrates, even on the further side of the Tigris in Iran proper ; they were flourishing when the Assyrian empire rose, and though, in consequence of their mutual dissensions, they were subjugated by it, they were not entirely suppressed.

> To the populations of this class belong the ancient Hellenes. It has been remarked that of all the branches of the Indo- Germanic family of speech the Greek idiom is grammatically the most elaborate and the best fitted to express in adequate terms the natural logic of the human mind. This initial advantage may have been improved by the natural character of the region which the Greeks inhabited.

Intersected as that region is in all directions by gulfs and bays, it forms nevertheless one geographical whole. That it is part of a continent is a fact obscured by the peculiar forma-

tion of the country, which gives it a semi-insular character. The mountains on the north separate it from the adjacent continent, almost as the Alps for a long time secured Italy from the northern nations. Greece is in proportion to its size even richer than the land of the Apennines in the variety and extent of its coast line, which stretches to all points of the compass. The peninsula of the Peloponnesus presents beside the principal chain of its mountain ranges a number of smaller peninsulas. Central Hellas possesses promontories in Akar- nania and Attica extending far to sea. The whole region, again, is encircled by islands, which, although for the most part of moderate circuit, form each an independent whole. In this region life was based upon the free movement of peoples who prided themselves above all things on their individuality. The sea, unfruitful though the Greeks called it, yet formed their proper element, and affected all their mutual relations.

The varieties of character presented by the different districts and peoples, each of which cherished traditions peculiar to itself, make it easy to understand how it is that the oldest Grecian history, which was not brought together till later times, exhibits a confusion justly described as chaotic. This was no region for long successions of kings, such as those who reigned in Egypt. There was no common sanctuary at once uniting the nation and confirming its exclusiveness, such as was the temple at Jerusalem, to which the Delphic oracle has only a remote resemblance. There was no room here for great towns, the seats of universal empire, such as Babylon and Nineveh, But throughout the whole of Greece life had a special and strongly marked character, instinct with animation and intelligence.

It may be objected that the original population was subjected to influences from more highly developed nations who crossed the sea; but, if so, these influences were transformed and received a national stamp from the peculiarities of the Greek character. The legend of Herakles, the greatest of their heroes, has indisputable affinities with Indian, Babylonian, and Phoenician myths, but at the same time it is Greek to the very core. Even in opposition to the

authority of Herodotus the Argives and Boeotians refused to part with their own local Herakles. Herakles is the subduer of the monsters who make the country insecure and uninhabitable, the invulnerable lion in the ravine, the nine-headed hydra of the marsh ; he is to the Greeks the symbol of human energy, divine in its origin but condemned to service, and making its way upwards by performing with toil and trouble its necessary task. He directs his irresistible strength also against monsters in human form ; he is, as an ancient writer says, the most righteous of all murderers ; he is the pioneer of a life according to law. In spite of the powerful goddess, who persecutes him with her hatred, he wins for himself a place in Olympus, where he takes everlasting Youth to his embrace.

The fact that foreign forms of worship made their way even into Greece admits of no doubt, and they were practised here and there in all their hideousness. Even on Grecian soil human beings were sacrificed to the gods, after the manner of the Phoenicians; even the Greeks thought to conciliate thereby the powers of destruction. But at a very early epoch they, like the Hebrews, discovered a rational expedient for evading these bloody rites. The legend of Iphigeneia in Aulis may be compared with the narrative of the sacrifice of Isaac. The custom was not wholly abandoned in Greece, as it was in Palestine, but it assumed a milder character. Instead of killing human beings, it was counted enough to shed their blood without causing death. It is related that Dionysus, who originally at Delphi required a boy as a victim, substituted a ram in his place. The most essential detail in the legend of Theseus is beyond doubt that part of it which makes him put an end to the monster with a human body and a bull’s head, who devoured criminals and prisoners, and also to that tribute of children which the Athe- ¹ nians had to render. That legend shows evidence of the tendency through which Greece was enabled to sever herself from the East. If I am not mistaken, this is also the fundamental idea of the legend of Pelops. He owes to the favour and providence of the gods themselves his escape from the

horrible death which his father inflicted upon him, that he might make of him a loathsome banquet to set before them ; then with the winged horses, given him by Poseidon, he reaches Greece, where he founds a race of rulers more distinguished than any other in Hellas. The story of the deliverance of the Thebans from the Sphinx, a monster of an Egyptian type, at once cruel and intelligent, may perhaps be derived from the opposition to these foreign forms of worship. We are not so much concerned to discover what the intrusive' foreign element was, as to note the way in which the native inhabitants guarded themselves against its ascendency.

From stories referring to the epoch when the land was made habitable, and to its liberation from the foreign rites which degrade man into a beast fit for sacrifice, the legendary history passes to a spontaneous movement in an outward direction. Jason, who personifies the maritime activity of the Minyae, sets out in his vessel, in which are gathered the most famous heroes from all parts of the land, and boldly breaks the spell which has hitherto barred to the Greeks the entrance into the Black Sea, in order to bring back the golden fleece from JEa, or, as later writers said, from Colchis. The next great event is the Trojan war. The legend of that war is to be taken in close connexion with the contrast between Asia and Europe, a contrast which, though of no proper geographical importance, has a very real weight from an historical point of view. For on the one side the coasts of Asia were involved in those general complications which led to the establishment of the great monarchies; while on the other the Greeks of the islands and of the peninsula had, as it were, an innate impulse to set foot firmly in Asia Minor—an impulse which was the first principle of their national and even their territorial existence.

Of these contrasted tendencies the Trojan war is the result. Teucrians and Dardanians are identical with Trojans. They belong to the northern nations of Asia Minor, and to that group of Thracian nationalities which, coming we know not whence, spread out along both sides of the Propontis. They were in alliance with the Phrygians, Carians, and all the races of Asia Minor, whose districts the Greeks invaded. From the local recollections, of which we find unmistakable traces in a fragment of Mimnermus, and which agree with certain notices in Herodotus, we may conclude, with as much certitude as the subject admits, that the colonial settlements of the Greeks were not effected without violence, or without encountering strenuous opposition. That there was a primitive and prehistoric Ilium is demonstrated beyond doubt by the recent excavations ; and the Homeric poems are linked with this name. But the struggle was no isolated one ; the Asiatic races rally round Ilium, while, on the other side, there is a union of all the Greeks, amongst whom the Achaean race takes the lead, which undertakes the contest with Ilium. It is the wide range of the interests involved which gives to these poems of Homer their background and character; but it must not be supposed that they have anything to tell us of the special points of contrast between the contending nations. Such details would have been useless in the poetical treatment of the action, which required another kind of interest to engage the notice of posterity. The two parties at strife with one another require to be homogeneous. Even the interest of victory must recede into the background, to make room for one more comprehensively human. The Trojans must be like the Greeks ; they must worship the same gods, and the forms of life in the midst of which they move must be similar. Of these forms, however, we may say with

I confidence, as far as the Greeks are concerned, that they were not invented, but corresponded to the times in which the poem itself took its rise, long after the events which gave imagination its impulse had passed away even to their faintest echoes.

The German nation has the advantage of possessing the description of a crisis in its remotest past, drawn by a contemporary historian of the first rank ; incomparably greater is the advantage of the Greeks, who have inherited from primitive times a poem of native growth, which brings before us with unmistakable truthfulness, and in a complete form, the conditions of their life in its earlier stages. Whether Agamemnon and Priam, Achilles and Hector, Menelaus and Paris are historical, or in what relations these names stand to the events of actual history, are questions we do not attempt to discuss.’ We renounce all attempt to determine the epoch at which a Trojan war, if there ever was such a war, really took place. But the social conditions represented in the Homeric poems cannot be mere figments. By the Greeks they were always regarded as perfectly real, as archives, so to speak, from which very definite claims and prerogatives were derived. Although these archives take the form of a poem, I regard it as permissible and appropriate, in speaking of the Greeks, to recall to the memory of my readers in their main outlines the conditions which they portray and upon which all later history depends. \

The headship is invariably centred in a king, who is neither identified with the gods, as among the Egyptians, nor an absolute ruler over subject districts, as among the Assyrians. He may rather be compared with the petty chieftains who bore rule in the Canaanitish towns, but he has characteristics which are thoroughly unique : he is the head of a corporate organisation. That the royal power was unconditionally hereditary cannot be maintained, for otherwise Telemachus, for example, would have been regarded not only as the son but as the successor of Odysseus in Ithaca, which, however, is not the case. The chair of his father remains vacant in the assemblies, although he is told that his race is more royal than the rest, which implies not indeed a right but a claim to the succession. The king has something of divine authority. From Zeus comes the sceptre ; fame and glory are granted by the god. The king’s honour is from Zeus. His is an authority which secures him high personal prerogatives, but no unlimited power. j

¹ I had already written this long before I was acquainted with the essays of Miillenhoff (Deutsche AIterihumskunde, i. p. 13 sq.), which agree in some points with the view I take. ,

area of land set apart for him ; on him depend counsel and action ; he collects presents from the people, for strangers, it may be ; the rest must follow his commands and bring him gifts, with which he is honoured as a god and acquires riches. In war we find him offering sacrifice. He summons and dismisses the council; he speaks before the people ; to him the booty is brought and he divides it: the greatest share is presented to him. The elders feast with him. The people obey him when he bids them take a particular route or fight bravely. ‘ A Zeus-nourished king has great thoughts.’

In peace the king is surrounded by a council composed of the elders. These are the greybeards who no longer serve in war, but are practised in debate ; it is they who give counsel; they sit with the king in his palace as the twelve do with Alkinous, eating at his table, pouring libations to the gods, and listening to the minstrels. The king of the Phaeacians appears as chief among the thirteen heads of the people. The chiefs have seats reserved to them in the general assembly, and in trials for life and death they take a principal part. As in peace, so also in war, the most distinguished of the Achseans are designated as the ‘ elders.’ They too are sceptre-bearing kings ; they marshal the people to battle ; the people break off their clamour to listen to them. Though there is one king who has the supreme conduct of the war, the rest, as Achilles, regard themselves as his equals; they are present at his banquet, and their cups are kept always full. After the victory over Hector, Aias is specially honoured with the chine of the ox offered in sacrifice. They assist the king with their advice, and he does nothing without them. In peace it is age, in war it is valour, which finds admission by preference to the council of the king.

If a matter is deliberated upon in the presence of all the people, they too have a voice. While Agamemnon is being required to give back Chryseis all call upon him urging her restoration. They hold their gatherings by Agamemnon’s ship. They are addressed as well as the king. They are ‘ friends, heroes, Danai, servants of Ares.’ As a rule they are quietly summoned to the assembly by the heralds. We

also, however, find Achilles calling them together with a loud voice. In this assembly the old men speak, as well as in the other; and Nestor distinguishes the two when he says, ‘ We were never of different opinion either in the council or in the assembly.’ The people answer by acclamation, exultant shouts, and other intimations. The proceedings in Troy are the same as in the Grecian camp ; near the tower of Priam old and young gather together, not without uproar. In the Odyssey we find at times a kind of division taken to discover the opinion of the majority,¹ whilst in the Iliad a trial is conducted before the assembled people. So it is also in Ithaca. Telemachus causes theAchaeans to be summoned by the heralds ; then he places himself upon his father’s seat; the others, the ‘ old men,’ seat themselves around him. So again the market-place of the Phaeacians is full of seats. Such is the character of their political constitution. They are differentiated by youth and age. The claims of descent are not by any means lost sight of, but there is no class of nobles with a distinctive training.

The poem gives to every man his meed ; it notes who is the best man after Achilles, who it is rides the next best horse to his ; who is the handsomest, who the ugliest man, who the most excellent in his business or craft The gentle and the good are praised accordingly. For the relations of family life conventional attributes have been formed, ‘ mild- giving' for the mother, ‘venerable’ for parents generally, ‘ dear,’ ‘ beloved ’ for the elder brother: young persons not yet full grown are called ‘ the modest.’ The solitary life is brought into view. The lonely man who, far from his neighbours on the extremest point of land, thrusts the firebrand into the black ashes ; the hunter who sets the white-toothed hound upon the boar ; others who in the heart of the mountain rouse the echoes as they fell the trees ; the reapers, who on the estate of the wealthy man work till they meet from opposite sides ; the autumn day when Zeus rains and all the rivers are full—the whole of life, in all its dignity and all

¹ Instances are quoted by Schomann, Griechische Alterthumer> i. p, 27, another work which I have only cursorily inspected.

its shortcomings, is set before our eyes. This it is which distinguishes the poem from all others, and which rivets the reader’s attention. So circumstantial is the picture that all semblance of unreality disappears.

This world of men is encompassed by an analogous world of gods. The struggle of the primeval powers, which forms the basis of the cosmogonies exhibited to us in Hesiod, recedes in the poems of Homer into the background. The gods of Olympus ¹ constitute the only system of religion which takes no account of the primary origin of things, and only symbolises those general impulses which are obvious to all. It is a religion of the coasts and islands of the sea, and of those relations which have been created through the intercourse of mankind. It reveres the headship of a supreme deity, whose name reproduces the designation which other races also give to the Divine Being, but who, in the circle in which the Greeks place him, occupies a position without a counterpart elsewhere. Undoubtedly the other Greek deities also are to be connected with the notions of light and darkness, in fact elementary conceptions in general, as well as the traditions of other nations which have touched these shores. But these are aspects never brought prominently forward, or developed as elsewhere. The gods are a great ruling family, with a supreme head who at last secures obedience; they have distinct characters, and innate impulses which take divergent directions and every moment act upon men. It is not a faith of universal range, or ideal and abstract character ; the motive forces of the religion may be called autochthonous in their origin, for they are inseparably connected with the soil and the locality ; they are fused with the life of human beings, and form with them one single whole. The habitations of the gods are in the immediate neighbourhood of their worshippers.' A figure that stands apart is that of the sea-god, whose displeasure can at any moment destroy all things. Other deities interfere in the employments of life—the god of

¹ Gerhard (iiber die zwolf Gotter Griechenlands, Abhandlungen der Berliner Aka lemie dcr IVisscnschaftcn, 1840, p. 3S9 fjq.) thinks he can find as early as Homer deities to the number of twelve.

war, the god of the arts, the god of daily intercourse (an incessantly busy deity), and the goddess of sensual love. From the head of the supreme deity springs the goddess of thought. Beside the rest appears the god of prophecy and song, who is also the presiding genius of the weapon that strikes afar.M A symbolism such as this was not the result of priestcraft or policy ; it was created and moulded by the fancy of a poetic age. Separate deities belong to separate districts ; the feeling of nationality finds expression in the assembly of the gods, and nowhere else. ^

But, not to tarry longer in this vestibule of poetry, let us turn now to history proper. Here we encounter an event which annihilates at a blow the ancient conditions of the Achaean epoch as described in Homer.

The Dorians, who are scarcely mentioned in Homer, are seen, in absolute contrast to the fixed relations exhibited throughout the poem, as lords and masters in Peloponnesus and as the dominant tribe in Greece. The manner, however, in which they became so has never been presented in a lucid and credible shape. If Herodotus represents the Dorians and Heracleidae in the character of confederates in the enterprise against the Peloponnesus, the legend agrees with him in the main, inasmuch as it derives the claim upon which the Dorians founded their conquests from Herakles, who did not belong to their race, b.ut was the progenitor of their kings. It would not be a thing in itself unprecedented that an exiled dynasty should unite itself with a warlike people in order to establish its real or presumed title, and the allies of that dynasty would find their own advantage in the conquest they achieved. In the history of the Israelites we have an example of the conquest of a country on the ground of ancestral rights ; but this analogy places the Israelites in the position not of the Dorians but of the Heracleidae, since they all derive their descent from the patriarchs who founded the rights in question. In Greece, on the contrary, the principal fact is that another tribe associates itself in the undertaking with the rightful dynasty. In the old narratives of the event we encounter the difficulty that the

Heracleidaa themselves are regarded as Achaeans ; there are kings of Sparta, Cleomenes for instance, who so designated themselves. I do not know whether we can leave this circumstance out of account; it clearly implies that the Dorians were taking in hand a cause which was not originally their own.

Again, this comparison with the Israelites throws a certain amount of light upon the political character of the event. The Israelites utterly annihilated the native inhabitants in the districts in which they became masters, so that their old tribal constitution maintained its national character and could continue its development. The Dorians, on the other hand, subjugated but did not extirpate the older population, whence arose a constant opposition between the two nationalities included within the same frontiers. The state established by the Dorians was composed of discordant elements, of victors and vanquished. The Dorians retained their old tribal constitution ; but the subject peoples everywhere opposed them, and had their allies far and near. The action and reaction of these conflicting forces determined the course of all subsequent Greek history.

Let us linger, however, for the present over the earlier stages of the history. If we enquire into the causes of the success of the Dorians, we may find the principal one in their strategy, especially their advance in close order with outstretched spears. Before this method of attack employed by better-disciplined troops the old tactics of the Achjeans, as described in Homer, had to give way. In the Peloponnesus three kingdoms were formed side by side. The claims of the three brothers descended from Herakles, who complete the conquest, were decided by lot. Argos fell to Temenus, the eldest; it was invaded from the sea, and conquered with difficulty. After Argos, Sikyon was subjugated by Phalkes, a son of Temenus, and from the latter region the dominion spread as far as Phlius. A son-in-law of Temenus occupied Epidaurus, with which, again, ^Egina was combined by conquest, so as to form with it a single community. Corinth also, the Ephyra of the ^Lolian house of Sisyphus, was

captured, not from the side of Argos like the neighbouring Sikyon, but by a Dorian roving about upon his own account, who originally received in contempt of his claims only a clod of earth.

Laconia had fallen to Eurysthenes and Procles, the sons of the second brother. It is uncertain whether it was conquered after or before the death of their father. They fixed the capital of their kingdom at Sparta, not far from the ancient seat of the Pelopidae. But it was a long time before they could dispossess the Achaeans of the hill country of Taygetus, and the latter maintained their hold upon Amyclae. Cresphontes, to whose share Messenia fell, and who established himself at Stenyclerus, set up native chieftains over smaller districts, in which the subjects were to be[ on an equality with the dominant races; they perhaps acknowledged dependence only on the king. His successors united themselves still more closely with the native inhabitants, and in consequence were involved in a war with the Lakedaemonians, whose animosity is indicated by the tradition that they bound themselves by an oath not to lay down the sword till they had conquered Messenia.

The legendary history of this conquest is full of incident and variety. We must not forget that the opposition of the Messenians is pronounced hopeless at the outset owing to the non-completion of a human sacrifice ; so that here again we have this rite coming, and yet not coming, into view. Their king Aristodemus slays himself. Then Ithome, the chief fortress of the country, is conquered by the Lakedaemonians, and the land divided, after the manner of Laconia, for the benefit of the conquerors. Once more Messenia rises in insurrection, under the direction of a descendant of Cresphontes; but the younger generation persist in and carry to a successful issue the war which their grandfathers commenced. Emigrations in great numbers confirm the subjection of the country to Lakedaemon.

In these struggles Sparta, whose destiny it was frequently to take a decisive part in the common concerns of Greece, developed the form of her constitution. From the very first

this constitution was rather the work of an aristocratic community, scrupulously true to its character even in the minutest details, than of the monarchy itself. The latter, however, resigned itself unconditionally to the measures adopted. How the result was brought about is expressed in the almost mythical legend of Lycurgus. The ruling families were at feud with one another and with the monarchy. To these quarrels the man privileged by divine authority put an end by legislation. Lycurgus exacted a promise that the order established by him should be maintained ; then he retired to Delphi, where, after receiving the divine sanction for his work, he is said to have starved himself to death. The legend symbolises the inviolability of the constitution, the basis of the greatness of Sparta.

Entirely different from the policy of Lakedasmon was that pursued by Argos. Her most imposing figure, at least as far as her political attitude and aims are concerned, is Pheidon. Having succeeded in possessing himself of the harbours of Argolis, he took the liveliest interest in the commercial activity of the epoch. Through intercourse with the East, commerce had now reached a point at which a trustworthy scale for measuring the value of things was indispensable. Pheidon adopted the weights and measures which the Phoenicians, herein followers of the Babylonians, had introduced into trade. The coined money which came from Lydia he rivalled by a native Greek coinage, designed for the commerce with Western Asia. It has been thought that pieces of his money can be distinguished among the oldest specimens of Greek coinage ; the impression which they bear suggests the Phoenician worship of Aphrodite. The Heraclid of Argos, who, whilst extending his power by armed force, has trained himself in the arts of commerce, is, as far as I know, the first personality in Greek history whose date can be fixed with an approach to exactitude. He belongs to that period of the Assyrian Empire when it embraced Cyprus and Egypt and held Phoenicia under its sway. His death is assigned to the year 660 before our era,¹ the time at which

¹ I follow in this the reading which modern authorities very generally agree in adopting in Pausanias, vi. 22, 2, according to which Pheidon is placed not in

Assurbanipal suppressed the Egyptian insurrection. Pheidon was master of Epidaurus and the warlike ALgina, a powerful maritime state, where he established his mint. The circumstance that the Lakedasmonians were engaged in the Messenian war contributed to render him supreme in the rest of the Peloponnesus. He interfered arbitrarily in the Olympian games, in the foundation of which we see an effort after a settlement between the emigrants and those native inhabitants who had retained their independence. Herodotus designates his behaviour as an outrage inflicted by him upon all the Hellenes. But even in his own lifetime the old order was restored in the games; Pheidon is said to have been slain in a hand-to-hand encounter in the course of a struggle with Corinth. Although a Heraclid by birth, he is exhibited in history as a tyrant, which, according to the most probable explanation, -is to be traced to his having broken through the tribal relations hitherto prevailing within his dominions.

A personage such as Pheidon leads the mind by a natural transition into a wider horizon, and to a subject of universal import—the maritime development of the Greeks. This is so far connected with the conquest of the Peloponnesus that the tripartite Dorians, as they are called in the Odyssey, had made themselves powerful even in Crete, which they had to a great extent made Dorian. The naval supremacy {thcilassokratid) was beyond doubt chiefly in Dorian hands. But the other Greek races also, who had not been affected by the ruin of the Peloponnesus, and moved at large in their native independence, took a very active part in maritime expeditions.

The foundation of the colonies may be regarded as the first great enterprise of the Greek people beyond their own limits. It is the most remarkable conquest ever made. The Phoenician colonies had rather a mercantile and religious interest, only expanding into political importance in Carthage. But the occupation of all the neighbouring coasts by colonies

which spread the characteristic life of Greece in all directions was a fact of the highest political and national significance.

The colonies were fond of tracing back their origin to Apollo and the Delphic oracle ; but in point of fact internal catastrophes and dissensions gave the principal inducement to emigration. The eastern colonies had a primitive centre of their own in Delos, where even in the earliest times congresses from the neighbouring islands had taken place ; thither they made pilgrimages with their wives and children ; athletic contests were established, and competitions in the arts of the Muses. An Homeric hymn boasts that neither age nor death seemed to have power over the Ionians. The festival was attended by representatives not only of the twelve Ionian towns of Asia Minor, but also of Chalkis and Athens.

These twelve towns, the foundation of which is traced to the pressure of population caused by the immigration of the Dorians into the central regions of Greece, were not entirely Ionic, but the Ionic element nevertheless predominated. The manner in which the immigrants procured themselves wives may be compared with the rape of the Sabine women, but the proceeding was a far more violent one ; not only the husbands, as stated in the first account given by Herodotus, but the fathers and children of the women were slain. According to Herodotus, the after-effects of this act remained ineffaceable. The jEolian colonies, attributed to Argive leaders and established for the most part upon a narrow strip of land around the Eleatic Gulf, were also originally twelve in number. But between the Greek colonists peace was maintained as little as between the parent races in Greece. Smyrna was taken and permanently occupied by the Ionians. Yet the members of each tribe possessed a certain degree of unity among themselves. Halfway between Ephesus and Miletus, near the promontory of Mycale, was the Panionium, at which the Prienians offered the sacrifice. Miletus and Ephesus, however, continued always to be the most active and powerful cities, the latter more intent upon the acquisition of territory, Miletus, on the other hand, one of the greatest colonising centres in history. No less than seventy-five distinct col.onies are ascribed to her, for the

most part on the coasts of the Black Sea, whose shores were thus drawn into the circle of Greek life. The Phoenicians everywhere withdrew before these influences, or else became Greek in character ; for example, Thales, the great Milesian, was remotely of Phoenician origin.

To the yEolians Lesbos became by degrees a kind of metropolis ; Mytilene is one of the principal seats of the older Greek civilisation. It was precisely in these regions that the reminiscences of the Homeric epoch were preserved in the most vivid form ; the Ionian Chios is the seat of the Homeridae, who kept up the traditions of that time.

Important as these colonies were to the world, they cannot sustain a comparison with the Dorian settlements. The south-western coasts of Asia Minor were fringed with the latter. Halicarnassus, the ‘ castle by the sea,’ formed with Cnidos, Cos, and Rhodes a separate Doric Amphictyony. A series of islands in the southern part of the /Egaean Sea described as it were a line of Doric settlements, among which was Thera ; the Certan colonies on the shores of Lycia may also be regarded as Dorian. The legend does not omit to mention the intervention of Crete when it is necessary to account for the establishment upon the coast of Libya of a Dorian colony, Kyrene, said to have been sent from Thera. In another direction Megara made advances ; to this town is assigned the honour of having founded Chalkedon and of having been the first to recognise the advantages of Byzantium as a site for the empire of the world. It would be enough to inspire us with admiration for the Dorian name could we venture to regard the colonisation of the Propontis, of the south-west of Asia Minor, and of Libya as part of one coherent plan, involving the occupation of the most important maritime positions in the eastern Mediterranean. Yet this is not the full account; with these must be combined the colonies which spread the Greek name at the same time over Sicily and southern Italy.

The great metropolis for the establishments in the West was Corinth. From hence Korkyra and the opposite shores of Illyria were colonised ; Epidamnus (Dyrrhachium) is a

Corinthian, Tarentum a Spartan settlement. According to tradition it was by an accident that the Chalkidians were driven to the coast of Sicily. These traditional accounts have almost the charm of voyages of discovery : the main fact, however, was the settlement itself. From Ortygia, which stands to Sicily in the same relation as Mytilene to Lesbos, Syracuse was founded. Rhodes established no settlements in the East, but most important ones in the West, Gela and Agrigentum being derived from her. The reason of this doubtless is that there were in the East powerful kingdoms in her neighbourhood, which barred all further progress, whilst in the West the Phoenicians, that is the Carthaginians, were contented to make a beginning with the coasts most conveniently situated for their purposes, leaving the other parts of the island to the Greeks, who easily mastered the native inhabitants. The same was the case in Libya. Syracuse and Agrigentum soon rose to power, as did Kyrene.

Thus the Hellenes spread on both sides of the mother country, which is itself little more than sea-coast, towards east and west. They were very far from constituting what is called a power; it was not even in their nature to do so, but they formed an element destined to produce the greatest effect upon the world, which at once made its influence felt in all directions. No doubt their warlike training by land and sea principally contributed to this result, the Dorians especially reaching an extraordinary degree of perfection in this respect. The Greeks generally showed themselves excellent soldiers; their equipment made them at once superior to their neighbours. The bronze foundries in Chalkis were reckoned the best in the world, and although they regarded their arms as merchandise, and sent them far and wide into foreign parts, the armour of the Hoplites was peculiar to the Greeks. Their superiority in naval warfare became no less marked. Triremes were invented at Corinth, and subsequently served to raise Samos into a naval power.

This active and vigorous population, whose elements were as infinite in their variety as they were copious in number, followed in every situation an impulse of its own. To attempt

to pursue these varieties in all their bearings would lead us too far into the explanation of local circumstances. But Greek life in general displays certain characteristics which can never cease to be significant. The Hellenes followed no common political aim ; they cannot be compared with the great powers of which we have had occasion to speak; their provinces and towns were of insignificant extent. But the manner in which these men, with no extraneous impulse or example, lived together and ordered their public affairs deserves the most attentive consideration. Independent and self-centred, they created in a constant struggle of citizen with citizen, and state with state, the groundwork of those forms of government which have been established in the world at large. We see monarchy, aristocracy, democracy, rising side by side and one after another, the changes being regulated in each community by its past experience and its special interests in the immediate present. These forms of government did not appear in their normal simplicity or in conformity with a distinct ideal, but under the modifications necessary to give them vitality. An example of this is Lake- daemon. If one of the families of the Heracleidse aimed at a tyranny, whilst another entered into relations with the native and subject population fatal to the prerogatives of the conquerors, we can understand that in the third case, that of the Spartan community, the aristocratic principle was maintained with the greatest strictness. Independently of this, the division of the Lakedaemonian monarchy between two lines, neither of which was to have precedence, was intended to guard against the repetition in Sparta of that which had happened in Argos. Above all, the members of the Gerusia, in which the two kings had only equal rights with the rest, held a position which would have been unattainable to the elders of the Homeric age.

But even the Gerusia was not independent. There existed in addition to it a general assembly, which, whilst very aristocratic as regards the native and subject population, assumed a democratic aspect in contrast with the king and the elders. The internal life of the Spartan constitution

depended upon the relations between the Gerusia and the aristocratic demos. From the first, according to a primitive Rhetra,¹ the initiative in the assembly belonged to the king and the Gerusia. They had to propose resolutions ; but to decide upon them was reserved for the aristocratic commons. On the part of the kings an attempt was made to limit this prerogative in cases where its exercise would have been inexpedient ; but against this arose out of the aristocratic demos the power of the Ephors,² who had authority to call together

¹ I purposely avoid dealing with the alleged legislator Lycurgus, who still belongs to the realms of myth. As for the legislation itself the decision given at Delphi, which is extant in its original form (Plutarch, Lycurgus, c. 6), is the most important document; yet it presents, as is well known, various difficulties, so that I feel myself bound to support my opinion, where I dissent from others, by reference to the wording of the oracle. After directions have been given for holding the assembly at appointed times and at an appointed place, viz. within the Dorian settlement proper, it is further said of the order of procedure otfrcus el<T<l>€petv Kal a^lffrcurOai, which might perhaps mean ‘ propose a motion and then withdraw.⁵ To the last word, however, some assign the signification ⁴ put the question to the vote.⁵ (Cf. Schneider, Greek Lexicon, s.v. aQeffrJip, and Grote, Hist, of Greece, ii. 462, n. 2.) ¹ Let the power,’ it is said, ‘rest with the people⁵

ii. 85, n. 3). According to the constitution, then, the aristocratic Demos would have had the chief power, and the principle of government would be much the same as that in Venice. That this is the true explanation is shown also by the statute of the king Theopompus at a later date, which provides an expedient for the king and senate in case of the people adopting a preposterous policy.

² Ottfried Miiller traces the origin of the power of the Ephors to their surveillance over the market and their civil jurisdiction. But how they attained from this starting-point to the prerogative of impeaching kings and bringing them to trial remains unexplained. If the Ephors had the right of summoning the popular assembly and proposing laws, this contradicts the principle of the constitution expressed in the Rhetra mentioned above ; and we might perhaps suppose that when the king and Gerusia, in accordance with the rule presented by Theopompus, were airoffrarrjpes, i.e. declined to accept the resolutions of the popular assembly, the Ephors thereupon came forward from the midst of the demos to conduct the deliberations, and thus obtained a power analogous but opposed to that of the kings and the Gerusia. They have an authority like that of the Council of Ten in Venice ; but their advance to power took the reverse direction. For in Venice the Council served to keep the sovereign multitude in check, itself belonging to the Gerusia ; in Sparta the Ephorate rose out of the aristocratic demos, and kept in check the monarchy and the principal families. For the general relations of the parties nothing is more significant than the oath which, according to the account in Xenophon (AaKedatfioviuv 7ro\trda, l.. 15), the kings and the Ephors took to one another. In this the Ephors figure not, properly speaking, as champions, but as representatives of the commonalty ; the king swears to govern according to the laws of the city, whilst for

the assembly and to impeach the kings themselves. On the other hand, they guaranteed to the kings in the name of the demos the possession of their power in so far as they submitted themselves to the laws. Two of them accompanied the king on his campaigns. To make terms of peace was the prerogative of the Ephors. The reins of supreme power were, in fact, in their hands. The Spartan aristocracy dominated the Peloponnesus. But the constitution contained a democratic element working through the Ephors, by means of which the conduct of affairs might be concentrated in a succession of powerful hands.

Alongside of this system, the purely aristocratic constitutions, which were without such a centre, could nowhere hold their ground. The Bacchiadse in Corinth, two hundred in number, with a prytanis at their head, and intermarrying only among themselves, were one of the most distinguished of these families. They were deprived of their exclusive supremacy by Kypselus, a man of humble birth on his father’s side, but connected with the Bacchiadse through his mother. There is a famous speech in which the Corinthians complained to the Lakedaemonians of the violence of the aristocratic government. But they were not entirely correct, if their remarks were pointed also at the constitution of Sparta herself; for the Bacchiadse rather resembled the Gerusia, which, however, maintained no real authority as compared with the Ephors. A combining element such as ruled supreme in Sparta was wanting in other cities. Only in Thebes did an exiled Bacchiad, Philolaus, succeed by a strict legislation, principally designed to guard against the excessive subdivision of the estates belonging to the dominant families, in firmly establishing the aristocratic ascendency. He introduced an isonomy into the oligarchy, and so enabled it to hold its ground.

Elsewhere the antagonism between the elements of which the cities and the country districts were respectively com-

the city the Ephors swear that so long they will leave the privileges ot the king undisturbed, rp Se TrdAti, ifnred0pK0VVT0S endvov, aarvtysXutrov rrjv /3acriAeiai/ tt ape^eiv.

posed was attended with results which would have been intolerable in Sparta. The tyranny rested for its support upon the Achaean population, which set itself against the exclusive dominion of the Dorian families. Kypselus and his successor, Periander, surrounded themselves with a body guard, by the help of which they thinned the ranks of their opponents in these families by exile or execution, but kept the commons in control by taking care to give them occupation.¹ The antagonism we have spoken of was most pronounced in Sikyon, where the Orthagoridae, who were sprung from the people, absolutely changed the tribal relations and overwhelmed with ignominy the Dorian phylae, whilst continuing their hostility to Argos, to which they had formerly been in subjection.² In Megara Theagenes, who belonged to the principal families, elevated himself to the tyranny with the assistance of the Achaeans, to whom the supremacy of those families was intolerable.³ In the Ionian cities, where the families were far from holding the same strong position as in the Dorian, the tyranny established itself without such assistance. This was especially the case in the islands and the colonies. There was need of an authority to direct the powers of the community to definite ends. There were interests not merely of the subjects as opposed to their immigrant rulers, but of the populations generally. As the Kypselidae rose in Corinth, the metropolis of the colonies towards the west, so

¹ Kypselus, according to Herodotus (v. 92, 6) and Aristotle {Pol. v. 9, 23= I2p. 230, 4 Bekker), held the tyranny for thirty years, Periander, according to Diogenes Laertius (i. 98), for forty years (according to the manuscript reading in Aristotle, forty-four years; but this does not tally with the period assigned for the whole duration of the tyranny of the Kypselidae, which rather requires forty years). Periander died, according to Sosicrates (ap. Diogen. Laert. i. § 95)) 01. 4^j 4 = 585 B.C. The fall of the Bacchiadse according to this must have happened seventy years before, 01. 31, 2 = 655 ^B*^c* Eusebius places it in 01. 30, 2 = 659-8 B.C., and O. Muller, DoHer> i. p. 161, n. 9, adopts this date.

² Aristotle (Pol. v. 12 = 9, 21) gives to the dynasty of Orthagoras a duration of a hundred years, and observes to7s apxo/J.4vois 4xp®^VT0^T0*^s v6/j.ols 45ovXevov (cf. Curtius, Peloponnesos, ii. p. 485). O. Muller {Dorians i. p. 164, n. 1) places the tyranny of the Orthagoridae between 01. 26 and 5^I== 676-576 B.C.

³ The daughter of Theagenes married Kylon of Athens (Thuc. i. 126), who in 01. 35 = 640 B.C. won the prize at Olympia in the ‘diaulus’ (double course).

in the corresponding eastern metropolis, Miletus, Thrasybulus raised himself from the dignity of prytanis to that of tyrant;¹ in Ephesus Pythagoras rose to power, and overthrew the Basilidse ; in Samos Polycrates, who was master also of the Kyklades, and of whom it is recorded that he confiscated the property of the citizens and then made them a present of it again. By concentrating the forces of their several communities the tyrants obtained the means of surrounding themselves with a certain splendour, and above all of liberally encouraging poetry and art. To these Polycrates opened his citadel, and in it we find Anacreon and Ibycus;² Kypselus dedicated a famous statue to Zeus at Olympia. The school of art at Sikyon was without a rival, and at the court of Periander were gathered the seven sages—men in whom a distinguished political position was combined with the prudential wisdom derived from the experience of life. This is the epoch of the legislator of Athens, Solon, who more than the rest has attracted to himself the notice of posterity. He is the founder of the Athenian democracy.

The tradition concerning Solon has many fabulous traits— for instance, his appearance in the market-place with the demeanour of a man not quite in his senses, a story which reminds us of the legend of Brutus. In a very characteristic way the account which makes Lycurgus, on setting out upon his travels, bind the Lakedsemonians to the observance of his laws, coincides with the tradition that Solon laid a similar obligation upon the Athenians, though only for ten years. There is ample justification for the doubts cast upon the narrative of the meeting between Solon and the last king of Lydia. In the main, however, the details we possess regarding Sblon rest upon a far more solid foundation than those which concern Lycurgus. The legislation ascribed to him did, in fact, proceed from him. On the one hand it is in keeping with the contrasts generally prevailing in the Greek

² Polycrates himself wrote poetry, and had a place among the elegiac poets, amongst whom also Pittacus is reckoned; a scolion by the latter is still extant. (Bernhardy, Griechische Literaturgeschickte, ii. 357*)

cities, whilst on the other it shows its author to have been a man of much experience and knowledge of the world. Its foundations are laid in the condition and circumstances of Attica itself.

The balance of opinion in ancient times inclined to the view that Attica is to be counted among the Ionian districts. The Attic tribes, who had gathered together in the capital, were distinguished in the same way as the Ionian, and bore the same appellations. This fact seems to point to the exemption of the Attic population from intermixture, and its purport is confirmed by the oldest tradition, which goes back to a period when there was a danger of such intermixture taking place through the immigration of the Heracleidae and the Dorians. This tradition attributes the deliverance of the country to the self-devotion of the last king, affirming that no one after this was counted worthy to succeed him. It is in accordance with the general experience of history that the autonomy of the native populations, suppressed over a wide range of country by the Heracleidae, should have asserted itself with all the greater vigour in another quarter. This movement did not immediately react upon the constitution of Athens. There also great families assumed the lead, and under one form or another exercised dominion and administered justice. The Areopagus, a primeval tribunal, hallowed by mythic associations, where trials were held under primitive forms, secured to them a privileged authority under the sanction of religion. This tribunal, however, did not interfere with the ancestral claims of families and phratriae. Phratriae were associations of a sacred character, in which one family was, as it were, security for the existence of the other. The four tribes were connected by direct ties with the gods ; and this was, in fact, the ground of their claim to equal privileges.¹

¹ In one of the earliest plays of Euripides, placed by Bockh {Grcsc, Trag. principes, p. 191) in 01. 87, 4, and by Gottfried Hermann at any rate before 01. 89, Ion himself appears as a son of Apollo by Creusa, who gave birth to him secretly. From Ion is descended Teleon ; from him come also the Hopletes, Argadeis, and /Kgi'xoreis. The last-named occupy the Kyklades and the adjacent continents (Ion, 1580 sq.) It must, of course, be observed that this view was

In Athens, however, as in most other cities, there ensued a schism between the powerful families. How violent this schism was may be inferred from that law of Draco which knows but one punishment, that of death, for all transgressions alike,¹ for in a general disunion the smallest crime is as dangerous as the greatest. In Attica, as elsewhere, chiefs of parties arose, who aimed at autocratic power. One of the principal Eupatridae, Kylon, on one occasion took possession of the Acropolis. He was opposed by the family of the Alcmaeonidae, but in enticing away Kylon’s supporters from the sacred asylum in which they had taken refuge they outraged the religion of the country, or, in the language of pure human feeling, that higher law upon which all else was based, and which held the inhabitants together. That the soil on which they stood might be desecrated by certain acts was a dominant idea among the nations of antiquity. The family of the Alcmaeonidae, which had incurred the guilt of such an act, was regarded with universal abhorrence, and was banished ; but the land itself needed again to make its peace with the gods. We have once more a reference to Crete, whence the Delphic oracle was derived. One of the Cretan Kuretes, famed for his acquaintance with the secrets of the gods, was invited to Attica, to carry out the sacred forms of a lustration, and to assure the country of its restoration to divine favour.

By occurrences of this kind the authority of the principal families could not but be shaken to its very foundations. One of these had attempted to destroy the general freedom, another had offended the gods. Nevertheless, after the banishment of the Alcmaeonidae the rest of the Eupatridae maintained themselves in full dignity. They cannot be compared with the Lakedaemonian aristocracy, who regarded the inhabitants of the country as their subjects. The inhabitants of Attica were on a footing of equality in respect of hereditary

almost contemporary with that of Herodotus. Xuthus is only the presumptive father of Ion.

¹ The archonship of Draco falls, according to Eusebius (in the Armenian translation), in 01. 40 = 620 B.C.

rights, yet it seemed that a condition of dependence might be brought about here, as in Lakedsemon. The opportunity was presented in the assertion not of public but of individual claims ; for, according to existing laws and usages, debt, when it was not possible to discharge it by payment, led immediately to bondage and servitude. The general growth of commerce involved the consequence that Athenian citizens could be sold into slavery. If this had been allowed to go on, the subjection of the lower classes to the higher would have become the rule, and the country would have lost the chief source of its strength. Already the state itself had fallen so low that it had allowed itself to be deprived of Salamis, which commands the harbour of Athens.

In the midst of this confusion, whilst law and religion were thus disorganised, and political weakness and incapacity were everywhere the rule, Solon appeared upon the scene. He belonged to the Eupatridae, and traced his pedigree to Codrus himself. But the prosperity of his country weighed more with him than the claims of rank. If we could venture, in treating of remote antiquity, to speak of motives which are intelligible to every one, we should attribute the legislation of Solon to the feeling which seizes upon every patriot when he sees his native land in a perilous condition, out of which some way of escape must be found unless everything is to go to ruin. To him is ascribed that purification of the land which was, so to speak, a treaty of peace with its gods; and also the recovery of Salamis, without which the Peiraeus could never be of any real use, Solon himself was active in mercantile affairs ; and this occupation must of itself have convinced him how infinitely important it was for Attica to have the free use of her coasts and harbours, and to what a position she might aspire by employing the natural advantages of her situation. To this end, however, the main essential was some arrangement for securing the freedom of her population. In ancient times all other distinctions sink into insignificance compared with that between freeborn men and slaves, and no circumstance has been more productive of civil disturbance than the attempt of the wealthy citizens to depress into the class of

bondsmen the poorer members of the community, by asserting the legal rights of creditorship. Every debtor was accustomed to pledge his person for the discharge of the debt, and was compelled, himself and his family, to do service in lieu of payment. Legal justice thus became the greatest political injustice. Those who were incapable of payment were even sold into foreign servitude. Never had the traffic in slaves, the focus of which was in Tyre,¹ received such an impulse as at this epoch. The merchants followed armies into the field, and the prisoners made were at once sold as slaves, along with those who had been deprived of freedom for civil reasons. We may conceive the feelings of an Athenian of rank at seeing, among the slaves sold, his own countrymen, who a short time ago had lived in the enjoyment of freedom. This was the first evil which Solon, when authority was given him by universal consent, undertook to remove.² He secured his countrymen from ever again being treated as chattels. No native Athenian was henceforth to be condemned to bondage, or sold into foreign parts, on account of debt. Those who had suffered the latter fate returned again to Attica. Many had been so long abroad, passing from hand to hand, that they had forgotten their native dialect. This may perhaps be regarded as one of the first steps in history towards the recognition of human dignity, though its action was limited only to the country it concerned.

In other respects also monetary relations had operated in Attica with distracting results. The oppressiveencumbrances upon real property could never be got rid of if private contracts of long standing were to be carried out to the letter. We shall not go far wrong in ascribing to the personal interest which Solon took in the general commerce of the world the fact that he did not maintain the standard of money with rigorous adherence to its current value in Attica. He it was

¹ The prophet Ezekiel makes it a reproach to the Greeks that they imported slaves into Tyre.

^% The archonship of Solon falls in 01. 46, 3 = 594 B.C. (Clinton, Fasti Hell.

who, in the coinage designed to form an occidental or Greek silver standard, corresponding to the oriental standard of gold, debased the substance of the silver mina, and so substituted a ⁴ nominal for its former real value. The measure was facilitated by the circumstance that the influx of gold was upon the increase, it being a well-known fact that, even in ancient times, the fluctuations in the relative value of gold and silver depended upon such causes. The new silver mina was made equal in value to the old, and the loans which had been made upon the old footing could be repaid upon the new. Political necessity outweighed private interests and claims. But the legislator, being thoroughly conversant with matters of business, insisted that loans upon interest should continue to be allowed, whereas elsewhere many objections were raised to the practice of usury. We find ourselves here in a region where we have no trustworthy landmarks of tradition to depend upon. But one thing is clear, that through Solon’s remediary measures the social relations with reference to religion, human freedom, and civil intercourse underwent a transformation. With this was combined that political revolution by which Solon founded a great commonwealth.

An innovation of great extent and importance was the so-called timocracy, according to which a certain amount of means was a necessary qualification for a share in the offices of state. The timocracy broke through the aristocratic institutions hitherto established, inasmuch as it limited the privileges of birth by exacting a census. This was fixed, according to ancient traditional usage, by the amount of produce yielded by the land held in possession. Three classes were established, with definite privileges and duties. Even the third, however, was so fixed that there must have been many Eupatridae who failed to reach its standard, and thus were excluded from the most important affairs of state. There was no question of abrogating the privileges hitherto attached to ownership, but only of an assessment, involving at the same time a confirmation of the title. Indeed, it is inconceivable that a dominant and still powerful nobility would have accepted the monetary innovations introduced by

Solon, if it had not been indemnified, so to speak, in some other way. It was only the three higher classes which paid direct taxes and were capable of being elected to offices. At the first glance we see in this a contrast to the tendencies which everywhere else prevailed.

There was a general bias in the Greek states and cities towards restraining the oligarchies, or rather towards depriving them of decisive control over public affairs. It was on this, tendency that tyranny depended. It based its power upon the elevation of the lower strata of the population, but the representation which it gave them was violent and transitory. Solon sought to utilise the motive force by which tyranny was supported, by conceding to those classes which were excluded from the direct tenure of office a twofold right of great importance, only on the ground that their means did not give an adequate voucher for its satisfactory exercise. This was the right of electing to offices and of examining, on the expiration of each term, into the way in which the duties of the office had been discharged. The suffrage was by no means universal ; it depended in all cases upon the legal asse'ssments, and since the number of those entitled and competent to hold the highest offices, upon which important issues turned, could not be very considerable, the right of voting must chiefly have been exercised in the rejection of less popular or estimable candidates. The investigation made the highest magistrates responsible to the assembly of the people; the archons themselves might be excluded from the honour of sitting in the Areopagus. The leading families retained their rank and claims, but they depended for the attainment of their chief ambition—the exercise, namely, of the supreme power—upon the judgment of the community at large. It is in this that Solon’s chief achievement consists; the classes whose members were individually excluded from the administration of state affairs received in their collective capacity an authority which implied the possession of the supreme power —an authority such as only the tyranny could exercise elsewhere. The constitution of Solon has the character of a reconciliation. Aristotle, to whom we are

indebted for our knowledge of both these concessions, pronounces them to have been necessary and indispensable, alleging that without them the Demos would have been forced into an hostile attitude.¹ Solon further provided for the interests of the Demos by giving the demotae a jurisdiction of their own, to guard against unjust interference in their affairs.² It was owing to the existence of two distinct elements in the community that Solon established two distinct senates. One of these, the Areopagus, was a body of aristocratic tendencies, consisting of those who had served the office of archon: its function was to maintain the laws in their integrity. The other, the Council of the Four Hundred, was a probouleutic senate, which had the prerogative of settling for the assembly of the people the subjects on which they were to deliberate and of watching over the execution of their decrees. The four hundred members were selected from the four tribes in equal proportions. Solon is reported to have said that the security of the republic was attained by these two councils, as a ship is made fast by two strong anchors in the midst of a tossing sea.

The poetical remains which passed among the ancients under Solon’s name display not so much depth or majesty of thought as knowledge of what is good and desirable in the relations of human life, together with a genuine feeling for the things of religion. His proverb ‘ Nothing in excess ’ indicates his character. He was a man who knew exactly what the time has a right to call for, and who utilised existing complications to bring about the needful changes. It is

a7ro5t5^at r<£ dvva.fj.iv, rb rhs apx^s alpe?(r9ai Kal evOvvctv, fnjSe yhp toiStov Kvpios 6 5ri/jLos dov\os tiv cfy Kal 7ro\€/xtos. Because of a trifling oversight— if it is one—to be found in this chapter (cf. Bockh, Die Staatshaushaltung dcr Athener, ii. p. 31) we cannot venture to conclude that it is not genuine.

'² Demetrius Phalereus {in a scholium to the Clouds of Aristophanes—Miiller, Fragm. Hist. Grczc. ii. p. 363, fragm. 8), Kal dTj/xapxovs ot ir€pl ’2,6\o)va Kadlcrravro iv TroAAfj (nrovUfj, %va ot Kara Stj/j-ov Sifiaxri Kal Xa/xfSdvaxrt rcfc 5f/ca<a 7rap’ a\\-f)\a)v. Even though the word demarch, which at a later time has rather reference to political administration, may be here misapplied, we should have to suppose that St/cafrrai Kara d^/xovs were intended (cf. Schomann, Gricchiscke AUerthihner, i. p. 49).

impossible adequately to express what he was to the people of Athens, and what services he rendered them. That removal of their pecuniary burdens, the s_t-is<rc/it/i_t'ia_y made life for the first time endurable to the humbler classes. Solon cannot be said to have introduced democracy, but, in making the share of the upper classes in the government dependent upon the good pleasure of the community at large, he laid its foundations. The people was invested by him with attributes which it afterwards endeavoured to extend. The democratic element first presents itself as indispensable in the domestic affairs of the commonwealth ; it was designed to counterbalance the power of the oligarchy. We have already shown that in Sparta the whole substance of power resided in the aristocratic assembly, and it is noticeable that Solon in one of his most famous verses declares that he has granted the people only just so much power as was necessary. But it was little likely that the Athenian Demos would content itself with this limited power, and the whole succeeding period bears witness to its efforts to expand and improve that power till it became the supreme authority in the state.

In times of civil discord, the first thing needful in the mind of a legislator is to restore the disturbed equilibrium between the different authorities and classes of society. It was this which Solon intended to do for Athens, and in a great measure carried out. This constitutes his principal merit. But the revolution he effected was not a native and independent product of the soil ; the general condition of the world reacted upon Athens, and made the change at once possible and salutary. If we are not mistaken, this is the first time that the power of money made itself felt in the internal affairs of an important community. It was the general intercourse of commerce which supplied Solon with the means of effecting his principal regulations.

Another vital step was the distinction established between the human being and chattels or money. Money becomes what it ought to be, a standard for the balance of political claims. The poorer classes were not only benefited by being delivered from the danger of being expelled from house and

home or sold as slaves ; by the laws of Solon they were at the same time firmly attached to the community, which from this time forth included them as members inseparable from it.

It is a subject for lasting contemplation that this was effected by a legislator, in whose mind views of the widest range were fused with the sentiments of patriotism. Solon cannot be compared with Moses, who extricated a people from the influence of conceptions which had become a part of its very life, and, being at once captain, prophet, and legislator, organised it in submission to the idea of an universal religion of relentless severity, such as completely to transform the nation and to pave the way to a great conquest. Solon made no claim to a divine mission ; still less did he entertain the design of effecting a great conquest : his ambition limited itself to winning back a neighbouring island, which had anciently belonged to the country, and in the next place to uniting the different classes of the inhabitants, by the accommodation of their disputes, into an independent and powerful commonwealth. Moses could only be represented in symbol; an ancient bust represents Solon as a prosperous, sagacious, and vigorous man ; his was a popular nature, dexterous and practical, his mind a storehouse of prudent thoughts. The two legislations have one point of contact : the idea of slavery is repugnant to them both ; otherwise they are fundamentally distinct.

That Solon’s creation would prove durable appeared doubtful from the very first moment. The equilibrium, upon which his constitution depended, could not maintain itself in the struggle of the conflicting elements. Tyranny and oligarchy had their centre of gravity in themselves. The constitution of Solon lacked such a centre. Solon himself lived long enough to see the order which he established serve as the basis of the tyranny which he wished to avoid ; it was the Four Hundred themselves who lent a hand to the change. The radical cause of failure was that the democratic element was too feebly constituted to control or to repress the violence of the families. To elevate the demo

cracy into a true power in the state other events were necessary, which not only rendered possible but actually brought about its further development.

The conflicts of the principal families, hushed for a moment, were revived under the eyes of Solon himself with redoubled violence. The AlcmEeonidse were recalled, and gathered around them a party consisting mainly of the inhabitants of the sea coast, who, favoured by trade, had the money in their hands ; the genuine aristocrats, described as the inhabitants of the plains, who were in possession of the fruitful soil, were in perpetual antagonism to the Alcmse- onidas; and, whilst these two parties were bickering, a third was formed from the inhabitants of the mountain districts, inferior to the two others in wealth, but of superior weight to either in the popular assemblies. At its head stood Peisis- tratus, a man distinguished by warlike exploits, and at an earlier date a friend of Solon. It was because his adherents did not feel themselves strong enough to protect their leader that they were, induced to vote him a body guard chosen from their own ranks. It was the. Council of the Four Hundred itself which came to this resolution ; and the assembly of the people confirmed it, no doubt because the security of the poorer classes called for a powerful head of the state.¹ As soon, however, as the first two parties combined, the third was at a disadvantage, so that after some time sentence of banishment was passed upon Peisistratus. He did not return until he had pledged himself to a family union with the AlcmEeonidEe. He was already in middle age, and had children ; he had no serious intention of founding a new family by a union with the guilt-stained house of the Alcmseonida;, although such a union would perhaps have put him in a position to obtain absolute supremacy ; and he was banished once more. But in this second exile he made every preparation for securing his return.

¹ Whether this step was really taken in consequence of a wound inflicted, or from a more or less well-founded anxiety for the life of Peisistratus, is unimportant. In the case of Lorenzo de’ Medici there was no need for such a stratagem to obtain for him the protection of a similar guard.

One of the most important facts which mark this epoch is the first employment of mercenary troops. Peisistratus, who cultivated close relations with the despots of the neighbouring islands, especially with Lygdamus of Naxos, found means to gather around him a troop of brave mercenaries, with whom, and with the support of his old adherents, he then invaded Attica. His opponents made but a feeble resistance, and he became without much trouble master both of the city and of the country. He thus attained to power, it is true with the approbation of the people, but nevertheless by armed force. The people were disarmed, and had other and peaceful occupations assigned to them. Peisistratus would as little suffer them to be without occupation as to bear arms. It was upon Thracian mercenaries that his despotic government rested mainly for its support. The constitution established by Solon he had no intention of disturbing, but its character was such as to leave it possible for a man of superior gifts to take the reins of government and control it at his pleasure. In this position Peisistratus laboured most profitably for a series of years to enhance the power of Athens,¹ and that with designs and in a spirit suggested by the general situation of the Hellenes.

The Persians were not only lords of Asia Minor and masters of the Ionian colonies settled on those coasts, but were stretching out their hands towards the islands. Peisistratus did his best to hinder the growth of this new empire of the world. He united to Athens by the closest bond the island of Delos, whose relations with Asia Minor were now severed by the Persians. He won a foothold in the colonial district by obtaining possession of Sigeum, a town on a point of land in the Hellespont. His view that land occupied by the Greeks did not belong only to the tribe which was its immediate owner was very important. It was clear, he maintained, from Homer that the original occupation was the work of all the Hellenes. Peisistratus won for himself an

¹ Aristotle says that out of a period of thirty-three years he held the tyranny seventeen ; according to Clinton the period of his clearly ascertained supremacy

imperishable title to gratitude by making a collection of the Homeric poems; it is probable that in undertaking it he acted on political as well as other motives. It certainly implied an opposition to the advance of oriental culture, which was spreading like a flood over the whole of Greece. The means by which Peisistratus possessed himself of the ascendency in Athens cannot be approved ; his success was the consequence of divisions within and open violence from without. But after he had attained to the possession of power he exercised it for the benefit of Athens. It is under him that Athens first makes her appearance as a naval power. The conquest of the maritime districts of Thrace, with all their resources, an event of great importance in the history of Athens, was made under his rule.

Athens thus obtained a certain rank among the powers by which she was surrounded. We have almost to stretch a point in order to call Peisistratus a tyrant—a word which carries with it the invidious sense of a selfish exercise of power. No authority could have been more rightly placed than his ; it combined Athenian with Panhellenist tendencies. But for him Athens would not have been what she afterwards became to the world. The greatest injustice has been done to the oldest of the exact historians, Thukydides, in attributing the good opinion which he expresses of Peisistratus to personal considerations such as any historian, really intent upon his office, dismisses from his view. Nevertheless it must be admitted that Peisistratus governed Athens absolutely, and even took steps to establish a permanent tyranny. He did in fact succeed in leaving the power he possessed to. his sons Hippias and Hipparchus. Their reign, like his own, is described in a Platonic dialogue as a golden age; so complete was the prosperity of Athens in those days of peace. But public prosperity can never efface the memory of a defective title. It could not fail to be keenly felt how much was implied in the heavy tax which the despots, in order to keep up their power, laid upon the land, whilst the people remained unarmed. The commonalty gradually dissociated themselves from the house of Peisistratus, to which they had

been attached. Of the two brothers it was the one who had rendered most service to culture, Hipparchus, who was murdered at the festival of the Panathenaea. It was an act of revenge for a personal insult. But there is no doubt that republican sentiment gave the dagger its edge, and the assassins were celebrated as men who had sacrificed their own lives to the restoration of freedom. In his dread lest he should be visited by a similar doom, Hippias actually became an odious tyrant and excited universal discontent.

One effect, however, of the loss of stability which the authority of the dominant family experienced was that the leading exiles ejected by Peisistratus combined in the enterprise which was a necessary condition of their return, the overthfow of Hippias. The Alcmasonidas took the principal part. On their banishment by Peisistratus they had established themselves in Phokis, where they had gained for themselves a position which made them formidable even in exile. They were in close compact with the Delphic oracle, for which they built a splendid temple; and the Spartans were at all times inclined to combat a rising tyranny and to set oligarchical governments like their own in its place. The Alcmasonidas and their confederates took up a strong position in Attica close to the frontier. Hippias on his side obtained the support of some Thessalian cavalry ; but these at the crisis were unwilling to shed their blood in a cause in which they had no concern, and withdrew. Unfortunately for Hippias, his children, whom he had sent to seek their safety in flight, fell into the hands of his combined antagonists. In order to obtain their freedom he had to bring himself to to evacuate the citadel.¹

The revolution to which this opened the way could, it might seem, have but one result, the establishment of an oligarchical government; for other leading families had

¹ The expulsion of Hippias took place in the twentieth year (Thuk. vi. 59) before the battle of Marathon (490 B.C.)—therefore in 510 B.C. In the fourth year before this (Herod, v. 55 ; Thuk. I.e.) Hipparchus had been slain, i.e. in 514. As the tyranny of the sons of Peisistratus lasted eighteen years (Ar. Pol. v. 9, 23 = 12, p. 230, 13, Bekker), his death must he placed in the year 527. Cf. Clinton, Fasti Hell. ii. p. 201 sq.

joined with the Alcmaeonidae, and it cannot be doubted that the aims of the Spartans were directed to this end. But the matter had a very different issue. The oligarchy could only have been established through a complete understanding and combination between the Alcmaeonidae and the remaining families. But between these two parties there existed an ancient feud which was always being stirred into a flame by new causes of discord. Another motive of ancient origin also made its influence felt. It could never be forgotten in Lakedsemon that the Alcmaeonidae were emigrant Messenians, who had sought and found refuge in Athens. It soon appeared that, though between the Alcmaeonidae and the Spartans a transitory understanding might be established, no lasting concord was to be expected. In this conflict on the one side with the families of the Eupatridae, on the other with the Spartans, the Alcmaeonid Cleisthenes conceived the thought of conferring on the democratic institutions created by Solon an authority independent of the will and pleasure of those of his own rank. For this object a thorough transformation of the Demos was necessary.¹ The principal step to this end consisted in breaking up the old tribes, which in their corporate organisation supported the traditional influence of the Eupatridae. In this he followed the example of his grandfather Cleisthenes, who, in order to bring the city of Sikyon into complete subjection to himself, had broken up the old Doric tribal associations and abolished their names. It was thus that Cleisthenes now dealt with the Ionian tribes, yet, it must be clearly understood, with very different ends in view. The grandfather had aimed at tyranny for himself; the grandson opposed himself at once to tyranny and to the authority of the Eupatridae. He established a new partition of the people into ten tribes, which gave to the democratic principle the upper hand. This did, indeed, immediately provoke an oligarchical reaction, which was once more supported by the Spartans. The latter, in conjunction with their Peloponnesian allies, advanced under their king, Cleomenes,

¹ This change of the constitution cannot have taken place earlier than 507 b .c. Cf. Schomann, Die Verfassungsgeschich*e Athens, p. 80.

in order to stay the innovations at their outset. They brought up once more against Cleisthenes the old guilt of the Alcmseonidse, and he was forced for the time to retire. The Athenian democracy, which was now compelled without his assistance to defend with might and main its newly won privileges, was chiefly aided by the circumstance that the rest of the Peloponnesians were already little disposed to allow the Spartans to become masters of Attica. Instead of seriously engaging in the war they broke up their union. This took place upon the plain of Eleusis. To the Peloponnesians themselves the freedom of Athens was indispensable, if they were not to become completely dependent upon Sparta. There were still Boeotians and Chalkidians in the field to maintain the cause of oligarchy. The Athenians, with Cleisthenes now once more at their head, fought for their cause with a courage which they had never hitherto displayed, and with the best success. For ‘an excellent weapon,’ says Herodotus, ‘ is isegoria; each man knows that he is fighting for himself.’

It was thus that the democracy of Athens sprang into life. Its rise was not due immediately to the idea of universal and inalienable rights, nor was it so regarded either by Solon or by Kleisthenes ; for them it was a step dictated by political necessity. But when once established it gained an irresistible strength, and became the most efficient among the primary forces at work in the subsequent history of Greece.

Towards the middle of the sixth century before our era the future of the world seemed to belong to the Greeks. We know how their colonies expanded over all the coasts and bays of the Mediterranean and Black Sea. It would have been for them a step of momentous importance if their ally Pharaoh Necho of Egypt had executed his plan of uniting the Red Sea with the Mediterranean by a canal. They would thus have been brought into direct intercourse with Arabia and India. Necho was a prince who aspired as high as his epoch permitted, but who failed to achieve his aim ; the Greeks might serve to defend Egypt, not, however, to raise her to the empire of the world.

There was, however, an atmosphere spreading generally over the eastern gulf of the Mediterranean which gave promise of a fusion between the powers of the East and Greek aspirations and aptitudes. We are speaking now of the period between the destruction of the Assyrian and the rise of the Persian monarchy. The states and kingdoms which were at this time prominent, and were colliding with each other on various lines, sought and found among the Greeks, who possessed the best weapons and were most practised in war, competitive offers of support. We meet with Greek auxiliaries not only in the army of Necho, but also in the opposite Babylonian camp. Kingdoms of moderate extent, in need of foreign assistance and sufficiently provided with the means of paying for it, were indeed

desirable neighbours for the Greeks. The Mermnadse, who ruled in Lydia, often came in conflict with the Greeks settled on the shores of Asia Minor. They compelled them to the acknowledgment of their suzerainty ; but meanwhile the internal resources of the Ionian and yEolian cities were daily upon the increase.

The kings of Lydia, in whom the oriental element was not particularly strong, attached themselves with the liveliest interest to the Greeks. Many a Greek sanctuary was indebted to King Croesus for new decorations. It was from Croesus that Delphi received the most splendid of the votive offerings brought to her shrine. The Pharaohs of the Saitic dynasty surrounded themselves with an Ionian body guard. They maintained brigades of Greek troops in the quarters they had established at the mouths of the Nile. The commerce of Egypt, at any rate on the coast, was in Greek hands, and the reactionary movement which once more took place in favour of native Egyptian interests, though it overthrew the reigning dynasty, yet made no essential difference in this respect. Even Amasis, who effected the change, had a body guard of Greeks. He entrusted Memphis to the Greeks, and founded for them that settlement at Naucratis which was composed of Dorians, Ionians, and ^Eolians from the neighbouring islands and coast towns. They had a common sanctuary, called the Hellenion ; for, according to a frequent experience, these races were most inclined to remember their fellowship with each other when they were cast among strangers. Halicarnassus, the native city of Herodotus, took part in these measures. The king permitted the Greeks to worship the gods after their own and not after the Egyptian fashion.

Moreover, Amasis displayed almost as great reverence as Crcesus for the divinities worshipped by the Greeks. Accordingly, though the former king subdued Cyprus, the loss to Greece was not without its compensations, since the island was thus emancipated from the Phoenician and oriental influences to which it had been subjected for centuries. We may doubtless in this case distinguish between two kinds of interest, the

immediate political interest and the national interest, which do not always go hand in hand. The latter found support and encouragement both in Lydia and in Egypt; with the former this was not always the case.

To all this, however, the rise of the Persian monarchy put an end. The destruction of the kingdom of Lydia was a loss to the Greeks which it is impossible to estimate. The hospitable capital of the monarch was replaced by the residence of a Persian satrap, who levied a fixed tribute from the country generally, including the Greek cities. From this condition of affairs arose in these cities the first attempt at a rebellion, through a native to whom had been entrusted the collection of the taxes. But as soon as the Persian power was set in motion the attempt collapsed, and had no other consequence except that the new dominion established itself all the more firmly. Of the cities which had taken part in the insurrection some were sacked and others levelled with the ground by the superiority of the oriental artillery. The fugitives sought the assistance of their kindred ; and the Greek element, which had hitherto been pushing towards the East, was now thrown back upon its native region in the West.

Results still more important followed from the subjugation of Egypt by Cambyses. The event of most importance in preparing the way for this result was the withdrawal of Cyprus from the dominion of Egypt, through the union of the Phoenicians with Persia. Egypt depended upon the naval power of the Greeks, who now in turn lost the empire of the sea, which they had hitherto maintained. In the war which ended in the subjugation of Egypt itself the Greeks rather injured than assisted Amasis. Nevertheless his overthrow was a great calamity to themselves. In Egypt a power made itself supreme which could not possibly tolerate the Greek influence. The Greeks never maintained friendly intercourse except with potentates opposed to the Persians. It is undeniable that the extension of the Persian dominion over Asia Minor, Syria, and Egypt gave a violent check to the onward movement of Greek life. On the other hand it

seemed as if the great enterprise of Darius Hystaspis against the Scythians ought to have united the Greeks and Persians. It was of a piece with the general policy of Darius that, after defeating so many other adversaries, he undertook to prevent for all succeeding time a repetition of those inroads with which, some centuries before, the Scythians had visited Asia and the civilised world. He possessed authority enough to unite the different nations which obeyed his sceptre in a great campaign against the Scythians. The subjection into which the Greeks on the coast of Asia Minor had been brought —a subjection so complete that they appear in the Persian monuments as integral parts of the main empire—prompted him to make use of them in order to secure a strong position on the Danube, and thence to advance into the Scythian steppes. It is probable that he really cherished the design of pressing on till he reached the passes of the Caucasus, through which the Scythians had formerly made their irruption into Lydia and Media. Otherwise it would scarcely have occurred to him to fix a period, at the end of which the Ionians, who built him a bridge of boats over the Danube, might, if he did not come back, themselves return home. The Greeks were his best allies in his campaign ; they built him the bridge by which he crossed the Bosporus, and also the bridge of boats over the Danube, by which he made his invasion into the enemy’s territory. The result was not one which could properly be called unfortunate; yet it was certainly of a very doubtful character. The Scythians avoided an encounter in open battle with the overwhelming forces of the king. Barbarism has always this advantage over civilisation : it is far more difficult to attack, and so can defend itself with proportionately greater ease. There were no frontiers here, as there were on the banks of the Iaxartes, which could be secured by a line of fortresses. Darius attempted something like this upon the Volga; he erected some forts there, but only to abandon them immediately. He resolved to return to the bridge, which meanwhile had been effectually guarded for him, and to complete the subjugation of the Thracian populations as far as this had

not been already achieved on his first passage through the country. Here was another conspicuous success which turned out to the disadvantage of the Greeks. A great region, in which they had already obtained very considerable influence, was closed to them once more. The Persian army brought the populations upon the Strymon, many in number and individually weak, under the dominion of Persia; and even Amyntas, the king of Makedonia, one of a race of rulers of Greek origin, was compelled to do homage to the Great King. Thus the movement which had thrust back the Greeks from Egypt and Asia Minor made advances even into the regions of Europe which bordered upon Northern Hellas. It was an almost inevitable consequence of this that the Greeks were menaced and straitened even in their proper home.

A pretext and opportunity for an attack upon the Greek islands was presented to the Persians by the questions at issue between the populations of the cities and the tyrants, which, by the constant bickerings they excited, sufficed of themselves to give full employment to the inhabitants. The argument is well known by which, after the passage of Darius over the Danube, the proposal to destroy the bridge—a measure which would have prevented the return of the king, and would have restored the subject nations to freedom—was rejected. It was these very tyrants who, with their followers, were in charge of the bridge. They took account of the danger that, if the design were carried out, nations and cities would rise in insurrection, and that all the dominion which they enjoyed would be lost. From Miletus, where this feeling found the strongest advocacy, steps were taken under the direction of the tyrant Aristagoras to subdue Naxos, the most powerful of the Kyklades which still remained free, and it was designed when this was effected to make an attempt upon Euboea also. The vision of the great and ever-encroaching empire dominated the horizon of every other race. Even the citizens of Athens, when hard pressed by the Lakedaemonians and Boeotians, had entertained the idea of invoking the assistance of the satrap of Sardis. Such support was, however, far

more accessible to the Peisistratidae, who had fled to Sigeum and had relations of affinity with the tyrant of Lampsacus. Hippias brought over to his side Artaphernes,the king’s brother, the same satrap of Sardis to whom the Athenians had applied. While, as we took occasion to remark, Peisistratus cherished Hellenic as opposed to oriental views, it is obvious that, in complete antithesis to his policy, the restoration of his son would have meant the subjection of Athens to the Persians. The sequence of events all pointed to one end. The Greeks had lost their preponderance on the shores of the Eastern Mediterranean; their colonies.in Asia Minor had been overpowered, and they had been compelled to retire from their Thracian dominion. These evidences of superiority were soon accompanied by an interference with the islands, which threatened to extend even to the mother country. It cannot be denied that the energetic world of Greece was in danger of being crushed in the full course of its vigorous development. It might indeed be said that such a suppression of the Greek spirit in its strenuous upward effort would have been in the nature of things an impossibility. Undoubtedly, if events are determined by a controlling idea, the general tendency of human development could not have brought about the subjection of the Greeks to the Persians. But the history of mankind does not move solely upon such transcendental ground. The historical question is, what the causes were which prevented such a result. One cause, no doubt, was that the Greeks had no central authority to barter away the freedom of the rest. They acted as a number of free and independent communities, some of which might perhaps be brought over, in which case, however, the rest would all the more certainly be compelled to opposition. The spontaneity which was characteristic of the Greeks was not to be reconciled with the attributes of supreme power in Persia. This was first made apparent amongst those whom the Persians had already subdued ; they could not endure their dominion for any length of time.

Let us endeavour to realise the situation and circumstances in which this opposition first manifested itself. The

instrument by whom the crisis was brought about was not a person of any great importance. It is not always great natures, or natures strong in the consciousness of their own powers, that bring on such conflicts ; this is sometimes the work of those flexible characters which, being at the point of contact between the opposing forces, pass from one side to the other. Such a character was Aristagoras of Miletus. It was that very enterprise against Naxos which he had himself suggested to the Persians that led to his separating himself from them. The reason was that a barbarous punishment was inflicted by the Persian general upon a guest-friend of Aristagoras, which the latter resented as an intolerable wrong, especially since the undertaking had, properly speaking, been entrusted to himself, and the Persian leader had only the secondary part assigned to him. The Persians exacted subordination and strict discipline ; the Greeks desired preferment in service and consideration for their own nationality. The failure in the enterprise against Naxos was in itself an event of importance, as it secured Euboea and the shores of continental Greece. But the division between the Persians and the Ionian Greeks, which resulted from that failure, is of more importance than the failure itself. The arch which the Persians had just erected was thus deprived of the key-stone in which all the peril of Greece was concentrated.

Morally contemptible, but gifted intellectually with a range of ideas of unlimited extent, Aristagoras made for himself an imperishable name by being the first to entertain the thought of a collective opposition to the Persians on the part of all the Greeks, even contemplating the possibility of waging a great and successful offensive war upon them. Aristagoras began his undertaking with the fleet itself upon its return from Naxos. He succeeded by artifice in getting into his hands the tyrants who had taken part with their vessels in the attack upon Naxos, and he delivered them up to the cities which had only with reluctance endured their dominion. By this act he imparted to the most important of all Greek interests a movement destined to spread far and wide. He announced in Miletus his own resignation of power and the •

restoration to the people of their old laws. The remaining cities also adopted a democratic constitution, and we may perhaps assume that in this the Ionians had been influenced by the example of Athens, where Cleisthenes had carried out his plans of civil organisation a short time before. A general overthrow of tyranny ensued, involving a revolt from Persia, and Strategi were everywhere appointed. The supreme power in the cities was based upon a good understanding between the holders of power and the Persians ; the fact that one of these rulers found the authority of the Persians intolerable was the signal for an universal revolt. Aristagoras himself voluntarily renounced the tyranny; the other tyrants were compelled to take the same course, and thus the cities, assuming at the same time a democratic organisation, came into open hostility with Persia. The Milesian Hecataeus, with his experience of history, had reminded his countrymen of the difficulty of setting themselves free from Persia, a task which, in view of the power of the king, he declared to be an impossibility ; the cities and islands which had so often already been forced to submission could not hope to resist the Persians by their own unaided efforts. Even Aristagoras could not have expected so much.

In his own case the thought of opposition may have been suggested by his knowledge of the superiority of the Greek equipment to that of the Persians. He conceived that the Orientals, with their turbaned heads, their long trousers, and their short swords, must inevitably succumb to the pupil of the naked palaestra, with his long shield, his mighty spear, and armour of bronze. He visited Lakedaemon, the strongest of the Greek powers, in person, and endeavoured to carry her with him in his plans. Before the Spartan king Cleomenes, who was personally inclined to enterprises of wide scope, he laid the first map of-which we have distinct mention,¹ a map drawn upon a sheet of copper, in which the separate provinces of the Persian Empire were marked by their frontiers, so that it no longer seemed a gigantic unity, but was grasped in detail.

¹ We do not attempt to determine whether this was the map of the world by Hecataeus, but undoubtedly Miletus was the birthplace of chartography.

His object was to make Cleomenes comprehend the possibility of pushing through these provinces to Susa, the capital, and breaking up the whole empire by a single bold stroke. The Spartan king is said to have been admonished by his own daughter, still a child, who was present at his conversation with Aristagoras, not to let himself be bribed by the promises which the stranger was making to him. But there were other reasons for hesitating to accept the proposals of Aristagoras. The principal argument he adduced was that Lakedaemon was wasting her strength in a useless and bloody struggle with her neighbours, whilst the enterprise he proposed promised the greatest success and the richest spoil. But it was precisely the remoteness of the goal which deterred the Spartans from seriously weighing the proposal. Their whole energy was at that very time directed to those struggles with their neighbours in which they were still engaged. They were proud of having expelled Hippias, and the disgrace of having been repulsed by the Athenians in the last campaign added fresh incentives to their ambition. In meditating the restoration of Hippias they were unconsciously acting as allies of the Persians. But, as in the last war, so now again their confederates separated from them. They would not assist in restoring tyranny, the oppression of which they had themselves most bitterly experienced. Sparta, whilst refusing to attempt the greater aim, failed to attain its general and immediate ends.

Rejected by Sparta, Aristagoras betook himself to Athens. The inducements which had failed to impress the king of Sparta produced upon the people of Athens just the effect which Aristagoras intended. We may suppose that the great idea of national union recommended itself to their minds, but besides this the cause of which Aristagoras was the champion was also their own. The restoration of Hippias in the Persian interests would have imposed on them a double bondage under Hippias and under the Persians. But they had now tasted of independence, and for the first time enjoyed to the full the advantages which it gave them over their neighbours. We are tempted to assign to this epoch

their undertaking against Lemnos and Imbros, islands which they not only hellenised, but made, so to speak, a part of their republic; they had the courage to forestall the Persians in appropriating them.¹

It was, at any rate, decisive of the issue that the Athenians granted Aristagoras twenty ships, to which the Eretrians, from friendship to Miletus added five more. The courage of the Ionians was thus revived, and an attack upon the Persian dominion commenced, directed not indeed against Susa, but against Sardis, in their immediate neighbourhood, the capital of the satrapy which imposed on them their heaviest burdens. If Lydia had given them her support, the course of events might have taken an entirely different turn. But the Lydians were disarmed, and far removed from any sympathy With the Ionians. Sardis and its temples were consumed by fire in a tumultuous attack ; the Greeks did not even venture an assault upon the citadel, and withdrew before the forces of the Persians as soon as these were gathered together. In their retreat they were overtaken and utterly defeated ; but the event sufficed to raise the momentous issue. By the burning of Sardis, in which a sanctuary of Kybele had been destroyed, the Syrian nations had been outraged in the person of their gods. We know that it was part of the system of the Persians to take the gods of a country under their protection.

Nor would the great king who thought himself appointed to be master of the world fail to resent an invasion of his dominions as an insult calling for revenge. The hostile attempts of the Ionians made no great impression upon him, but he asked who were the Athenians, of whose share in the campaign he had been informed. They were foreigners of whose power the king had scarcely heard. It is said that

¹ Grote, History of Greece., iv. p. 37, ‘The islands of Lemnos and Imbros seem to have passed into the power of the Athenians at the time when Ionia revolted from the Persians.* It is permissible to read in Grote and elsewhere the various conjectures concerning the date of this occupation without being exactly convinced by any one of them. Throughout the whole epoch our sole authority is Herodotus, who is no chronologer, and rather follows events in their es ential connexion than in their exact sequence in point of time. In this account we shall follow his example in giving prominence only to the former method. That which is legendary we may leave to itself.

Darius drew the bow, the symbol of power, and shot an arrow into the sky, calling at the same time upon his god (whom the Greeks call Zeus, but who was doubtless the same whom the king mentions on his monuments, namely Ahuramazda) to grant him vengeance, or rather chastisement, upon the Athenians. The enterprise of Aristagoras had meanwhile caused general commotion. He had by far the larger part of Cyprus together with the Carians on his side. All the country near the Propontis and the Hellespont was in revolt. The Persians were compelled to make it their first concern to suppress this insurrection, a task which, if attempted by sea, did not promise to be an easy one.

In their first encounter with the Phoenicians the Ionians had the advantage. When, however, the forces of the great empire were assembled, the insurrection was everywhere put down. In Cyprus this result was principally due to the want of union among the Greeks themselves, in Caria to the superiority of the Persians in the field.¹ On a former occasion the Egyptians had proposed to unite their forces with those of the Greeks against the Persians ; now the Egyptian ships of war were combined with the Phoenicians. The Perso-Phceni- cian fleet appeared upon the sea with an overwhelming display of force. Yet the issue was not decided at once. Perhaps the Ionians who had collected their forces at Lade, then still an island, might have achieved a success if they had made an attack upon the Phoenician fleet. To this step the bravest of their leaders, Dionysius of Phokaea, who, however, had only contributed three triremes, endeavoured to persuade them. But the Ionians were not inclined to submit to the rigorous training which he prescribed. Besides this, they were told that even if they succeeded in destroying this fleet the king

¹ We can fix the date of these events, because Thukydides places the death of Aristagoras thirty-two years before the experiment made by the Athenians in the year 465-4 B.C. to colonise the neighbourhood in which Amphipolis subsequently lay. Aristagoras, according to this, must have been put to death in 497-6. But before his decease Cyprus and Caria had been subdued ; and Cyprus had maintained its freedom for one year (cf. Clinton on the year 497). The year of freedom must, therefore, have been 499-498. This was preceded by the insurrection of Ionia, which may accordingly be assigned to the year 500.

would levy a power five times as great. Meanwhile the superiority of the Persian land forces had displayed itself, and amongst the Ionians the desponding conviction began to spread that all their efforts would be in vain. Whilst this impression was general the exhortations of the tyrants they had expelled, though at first rejected, found at last a hearing. Even the Samians thought it better to save their sanctuaries and their property by submission than to forfeit them by resistance. Accordingly, when the Phoenicians sailed to the attack on the fleet they encountered only a partial resistance, though the Chians, the countrymen of Homer, displayed conspicuous but unavailing bravery. The Ionians suffered a complete defeat. After this Miletus could not be retained, and towns and islands in rapid succession fell into the hands of the Persians. To lay waste districts and rase cities to the ground was no part of their policy ; they employed their victory to introduce a regular government, such as might bring about a lasting subjection. They made provision to deter the Ionians from disturbing the peace of the country by dissensions with one another. After some time they even abolished the tyranny, the existence of which only continued to interfere with the establishment of a uniform obedience. Athens had taken no part in the naval war, but yet she felt the misfortune of the Ionians as her own. The poet who represented it upon the stage was punished ; the Athenians felt that in the course things were taking the next blow would fall on themselves. They were compelled to prepare to defend themselves single-handed against the gigantic and overwhelming power of the Great King.

It must be reckoned among the consequences of the battle of Lade, by which the combination against the Persian empire had been annihilated, that King Darius, not content with having consolidated his dominion in Ionia, once more resumed the plan of pushing forward into Europe, of which his enterprise against the Scythians formed part. With the execution of this project he commissioned one of the principal persons of the empire and the court, the son of one of the seven Persians who had taken so great a share in the elevation of

the Achaemenidae, Mardonius by name, whom he united to his own family by marrying him to his daughter. To Mardonius are to be ascribed the institutions lately established in Ionia. This general crossed the Hellespont¹ with a large army, his fleet always accompanying him along the shore whilst he pushed on by the mainland. He once more subdued Make- donia, probably the districts which had not yet, like the Make- donian king, been brought into subjection, and gave out that his aim was directed against Eretria and Athens, the enemies of the king. For the execution of this design it seemed indispensable that he should subdue the whole of the mainland, barbarian and Greek, without distinction. Yet this was more than he could compass. In the stormy waters near Mount Athos, which have always made the navigation of the ^Egean difficult, his fleet suffered shipwreck. But without naval supports he could not hope to gain possession of an island and a maritime town situated on a promontory. Even by land he encountered resistance, so that he found it advisable to postpone the further execution of his undertakings to another time. Yet the situation was so far unchanged that the Persian power as a whole continued to expand, and threatened the life of Greece with extinction.

The majority of the cities and towns complied with the demand made upon them and gave the king earth and water. In order to subdue the recalcitrants, especially Athens and Eretria, another attempt was organised without delay. Under two generals, one of whom, Datis, was a Mede, the other Artaphernes, the son of the satrap of Sardis of the same name, and brother of the Darius who was in alliance with Hippias, a maritime expedition was undertaken for the immediate subjugation of the islands and the maritime districts. It was not designed for open hostility against the Greeks in general. ‘Why flee ye, holy men ? ’ said the Persians to those of Delos. Datis burned three hundred pounds of incense at- the shrine venerated as the birthplace of the two deities. The religion of Ahuramazda did not forbid them to take foreign worships under their protection, and they were anxious not to ¹ B.C. 492 according to Clinton, 493 according to Curtius.

have the Greek gods against them. Their design was to utilise the internal dissensions of Greece in conquering the principal enemies upon whom the Great King had sworn vengeance, and presenting them as captives at his feet. The project succeeded in the case of Eretria. In spite of a brave resistance it fell by treachery into their hands, and they could avenge the sacrilege committed at Sardis by plundering and devastating Grecian sanctuaries. They expected now to be able to overpower Athens also without much trouble. Her enemies, amongst them the ^Eginetans, had sent to the king the tokens of subjection, mainly in order to assure themselves of his support against her. Moreover, the Peisistratidse still had in the city and rural districts a party which Hippiag, who acted as guide to the Persians, hoped to rouse to exertion. In a straight line from that part of the coast, which lay opposite the now subjugated Euboea, he hoped to be able to push along the familiar road to Athens. No one as yet had been able to make a stand before the terror of the Persian arms. It was unlikely that the Athenians would venture on a struggle which, according to all previous experience, offered no prospect of success. The moment was one of the most important in their history. If the Persians had conquered Athens the doom of the democracy would probably have been sealed for ever ; the dominion of the Peisistratidse would have been restored, and it would have been no longer the old dominion, but one far more violent and supported by a league with Persia. Athens in all probability would have fallen into the same condition as that which had once been the lot of the Ionian cities under the tyrants. The Persian spirit would gradually have predominated over every other influence.

It was a circumstance of great value to the Athenians that there was a man amongst them who was familiar with the Persian tactics. This was Miltiades, the son of Kimon. The •old and distinguished family from which he was descended had risen to power in the process of colonising the Thracian Chersonese, and twenty years before the date of these events Miltiades had succeeded to their position ; he possessed a kind of princedom there, and united himself in marriage to the

daughter of a Thracian prince. Thus he had already c6me into contact with the Persians. It was no fault of his that the bridge over the Danube over which King Darius had passed to invade the Scythians remained unbroken. When subsequently, in consequence of the failure of the attempt on Sardis, that reaction took place which prompted the Persians to take steps for the reduction of the islands of the jEgean, he found it impossible, especially as he was hard pressed by other enemies as well, to maintain his ground upon the Chersonese. He had retired before the Persian fleet, and with four triremes—for the fifth fell into their hands—had reached Athens. Although a Thracian prince, he had never ceased to be a citizen of Athens. Here he was impeached for having held a tyranny, but was acquitted and chosen strategus, for the democracy could not reject a man who was so admirably qualified to be at their head in the interchange of hostilities with Persia. Miltiades was conducting his own personal quarrel in undertaking the defence of Attica.

The force of the Persians was indeed incomparably the larger,¹ but the plains of Marathon, in which they were drawn up, prevented their proper deployment, and they saw with astonishment the Athenian hoplites displaying a front as extended as their own. These troops now rushed upon them with an impetus which grew swifter at every moment. The Persians easily succeeded in breaking through the centre of the Athenian army; but that was of no moment, for the strength of the onset lay in the two wings, where now began

¹ Justin (ii. 9, 9) estimates their number at 600,000 men, Cornelius Nepos (Miltiades, e. 4, 2) at 100,000 infantry and 10,000 cavalry. Even from this total much must be deducted, for, as the troops had to be brought over by sea, their number could not have been so immense. On the other hand, the Athenians and Platseans have been estimated at 10,000 men (Nepos, Miltiades, c. 5s *)• Justin reckons 10,000 Athenians, 1,000 Platseans. But when we consider that the Athenians put forth all their strength, and that later on at Platsea, although a great part of them were in the fleet, they set 16,000 men in the field, we may, perhaps, feel some doubts as to the scantiness of their numbers. Mitford (.History of Greece^ ii. m) supposes 15,000 heavy-armed men and as many or even more light-armed. Bockh reminds us [Die Staatshaushaltung der A thener_y I, p. 276) that the estimates are only to be understood of the number of the hoplites.

a hand-to-hand fight. The Persian sword, formidable elsewhere, was not adapted to do good service against the bronze armour and the spear of the Hellenes. On both flanks the Athenians obtained the advantage, and now attacked the Persian centre, which was not able to withstand the onslaught of men whose natural Vigour was heightened by gymnastic training. The Persians, to their misfortune, had calculated upon desertion in the ranks of their opponents : foiled in this hope, they retreated to the shore and to their ships.¹

Herodotus intimates that the Persians had secret intelligence with a party in Athens,² and took their course round the promontory of Sunium towards the city, in the hope of surprising it. But when they came to anchor the Athenians had arrived also, and they saw themselves once more confronted by the victors of Marathon.

The truth of the distinction which Aristagoras once drew between the Greeks and the Orientals was now confirmed, not indeed in an attack such as he, anticipating the remote future, had suggested, but in resistance. They had not made a conquest, but Athens had been saved. I am not inclined to cloud the splendour of their exploit by a calculation of probabilities, for which extant traditions are quite inadequate to form the basis. It was a blow which the Persians attempted in overwhelming force by land and sea, parried by the Athenians with dexterous boldness and under successful generalship, an occurrence of no great compass in a military sense, but pregnant with the future and like a solemn utterance of destiny.

¹ The battle of Marathon falls in the archonsbip of Phsenippus, 01. 7²? 3 — 49° B.C., in the fifth year before the death of Darius and the tenth before the enterprise of Xerxes against Greece (cf. Clinton, Fasti Hell. ii. under this year, and p. 246}. The day of the battle is said by Plutarch to have been the 6th of Boedromion. Some modern writers, however, have thought it probable that Plutarch has confused the day of thanksgiving with that of the battle. In particular this is the opinion of Bockh (Zur Geschichte der Mondcyclen der Hellenen, p. 66 sq.) ; he assigns the battle to the 17th of Metageitnion = 2 Sept.

² The AlemseonidEe, as many supposed : but the charge is with good reason contradicted by Herodotus, vi. 115; 121 ff. The Alcm^eonidse expelled Hippias, whom the Persians were endeavouring to restore, and introduced the democracy, to which the vigorous resistance of Athens was chiefly due.

was so faithfully mirrored, was still living. He at least succeeded in remedying by forethought the great defect attaching to monarchy in the East, the uncertainty of the succession. Among the sons borne to him by different wives he appointed the one who was an Achaemenid also on the mother’s side, Xerxes (Khshayarsha), to be his successor; so that a contest for the throne, such as so often broke out in later times, was avoided. The empire was at the climax of its power and prosperity. The disastrous attack on Attica was accompanied by a commotion in Egypt. Darius subdued it, and it seemed quite certain that he would now resume the enterprise against Greece, when in the year 485 he died.

We read with pleasure in Herodotus the deliberations which the young Xerxes, an early Porphyrogenitus, is said to have held upon the renewal of a campaign against the Greeks. We gather from it all that could be said for and against the expedition. In its favour was the proud conviction which the Persians cherished, that they were the first race in the world, and that to them belonged universal dominion, the sole obstacle in their way being the resistance of the Greeks ; if this were overpowered, the air of heaven would form the sole limit of their empire. Against it were urged the disastrous experiences of the last campaigns of conquest undertaken by Cyrus, Cambyses, and Darius himself; and thus occasion is taken to bring into prominence the idea of the Greek religion that the gods show no favour to those who have reached too high a pinnacle of greatness. Nevertheless the resolution was taken, upon the ground of menacing dreams which constantly recurred. That this account really accords with facts no one would think of maintaining; it constitutes the beginning of that historic epos which Herodotus has left to posterity, a work constructed with marvellous narrative power, but not without a legendary element mingled with authentic history. To an historian living in a later age it might seem that the enterprise could scarcely have been the subject of much debate. The expedition of Datis and Artaphernes had only been an attempt to decide the issue at a single blow. It was frustrated; and the undertaking was resumed which

Mardonius had formerly contemplated in the course of the campaign beyond the Danube, and had begun to execute on an extensive scale, but which had been interrupted in consequence of unforeseen disasters. It is very intelligible that a young prince who had just ascended the throne should have taken it in hand. He did so, putting forth all his resources in the full consciousness that it was a task of the very widest scope. It would be unprofitable to repeat the details which Herodotus gives in a narrative in which Persian and Grecian legends are interwoven. Yet amid the rest some facts of historical value emerge. In the work of bridging the Hellespont we are made sensible of the difference between the times of Darius and those of Xerxes. Under Darius the Ionians had been the artificers of the bridge ; under Xerxes it was chiefly the Phoenicians and Egyptians who were engaged on it. The ropes of the first bridge were made of flax, those of the second of papyrus. The whole was the work of the most skilful craftsmen among the Orientals.¹ The same hands also pierced through the isthmus which connects Mount Athos with the mainland, so that the ships could avoid the dangers with which Mardonius had to struggle in rounding the promontory. Not merely for the campaign in which they were engaged, but for the general command of the yEgean Sea, the undertaking was of the greatest importance, and it appears indisputable that the skill of the oriental nations in marine engineering proved equal to the .task.²

In the Thermaic Gulf Xerxes united his forces on land and sea. Both were of colossal dimensions ; the land forces are estimated at more than a million warriors, with the addition of 80,000 cavalry, the number of the ships at more than 1,200. In the army it would seem the Persians had the exclusive command ; on sea the Phoenician squadron was the most considerable. It was a display of power fitted to support the Persian claim to the empire of the world. On

¹ The expression in Herod, vii. 36, ‘ other master builders ’ (SMoiipxirefcrom), applied to those employed after the first mishap, implies no change of nationality, but only a change of persons.

² As regards the fact of this achievement I side with Leake and Grote {History of Greece, v. p. 30).

the other hand the Greeks were disunited and careless. Not only the Aleuadae in Thessaly, whose object it was to secure for themselves the dominion in that country, but also powerful cities and communities, such as Argos and Thebes, which supposed that in this way they were best providing for their security, came over to the king’s side. The sentiment of Panhellenism was only in the germ, and far from sufficient to unite the divided cities and districts. It is affirmed of Gelon, the tyrant of Syracuse, that he was only awaiting the event in order to submit to the Persians, if, as was to be expected, the victory rested with them, because he might then have counted upon finding support from the Great King against the Carthaginians, by whom he was hard pressed at the time. Strictly speaking, it is only Sparta and Athens that can be regarded as determined enemies to the Persians. They had thrown the heralds of the late king, when they demanded the tokens of subjection, into pits or wells, and had bidden them fetch earth and water from thence. They had now to apprehend the vengeance of the king, and therefore held together, without, however, any real bond of sympathy.

The greatest danger for the Greeks lay in the combination of the Persian military and naval forces. The first attempt at resistance, made by a body of men gathered in the vale of Tempe in numbers which might have been formidable in a struggle among the mountains, had to be abandoned, since the Persian fleet was able at any moment to land troops who would have attacked the defending force in the rear. In a second position, which the Greeks resolved to maintain, their maritime armament was far better able to co-operate with their land force. Whilst the Spartans under their king Leonidas held the pass of Thermopylae, the Athenians with daring courage defended the strait between the mainland and the promontory of Artemisium in Euboea. The conduct of the Spartans at Thermopylae was characterised by steadfast valour and obedience to their laws, and has supplied a model for all later time ; but they fell a sacrifice to overwhelming numbers and to that treachery which even here was found at work. In consequence of this the Athenian fleet had to with

draw from the straits, and the stream of Persian conquest swept on unchecked. The greater part of the Greek populations, Bceotia, Phokis, Doris, joined the Great King. It is strange to note that claims of mythological origin, based especially on Perseus and the Phrygian Pelops, recurred to men’s memories. Sparta was only concerned to bar the passage by land into the Peloponnesus, and the Persians were able to push without impediment into the territory of Attica.

We must bear in mind the whole situation in order to do justice to the resolution formed by the Athenians. The armed force which returned from Artemisium no sooner landed than they caused proclamation to be made that every one should leave the country with all that belonged to him, and that all capable of bearing arms should be prepared to serve in the fleet. We do not find it distinctly stated, at any rate in our oldest authority, that this step was taken in consequence of a vote of the democratic assembly.¹ There is, however, an irresistible force of circumstances which controls the resolves of men. There was no other course open. The oracle of Delphi had announced in myste_T rious language that all was lost, but to a second despairing appeal had replied by directing that Athens should protect herself behind wooden walls. On this occasion the Athenians profited by the presence amongst them of one who was at once a born sailor and a man of the widest ideas. This was Themistocles, who had already persistently directed all the resources of the republic, even to the neglect of every individual interest, to increasing the power of his state at sea.

¹ In later authors a resolution to this effect is ascribed to the assembly of the people or to the Areopagus as invested with extraordinary powers (Plutarch, Themist. c. 10; Cicero, De Officiis_y i. 22, 75). In Herodotus nothing of the kind is stated. His words would lead us to suppose that the order bad proceeded immediately from the commanders of the fleet (viii.41): ’AOyvaioi Karivxov is tV cct.vTu>v. fiera r^v &Trt£iv tcJipvypa 4ir0i‘f)<ravT0₎ ’AOrivaluv rfj rts Svvarai ff&fav ta t€Kva re «al rows oiK€Tas. The armed force declared that the country could not be saved, and that the security of its inhabitants was only to be found in flight to Salamis or other places of safety ; the step is not attributed to the orders of the tribunal named above, or to any regularly conducted deliberation. Nevertheless, that which the commanders of the fleet proclaimed recommended itself to the judgment of the country.

Never had any city possessed a navy at all comparable to that of Athens, and in spite of all her losses at Artemisium she had emerged from that contest with the glory of successful seamanship. Although others wished to interpret the oracle by a reference to antiquity, the explanation of Themistocles, that by the wooden walls were meant the ships, found most support. The Athenians obeyed the command without resistance, yet, as may well be imagined, not without pain. They left their country, entrusting, as it were, its numerous sanctuaries to the protection of the gods. Nevertheless the Persians encountered no obstacle in taking possession of it, and the lofty Acropolis and the temple of Aglaurus with the everlasting olive were burnt. The Peisistratidse, who on this occasion also accompanied the invading army, found only a scanty remnant of the inhabitants gathered round the priests in charge of the temples ; all the rest had evacuated the country and taken to the ships. This may fairly be reckoned the greatest among the great resolves recorded in history ; it reminds us of the Gueux, betaking themselves with all their possessions to their ships, to find there a refuge for their freedom. But the self-devotion of the Athenians far excelled theirs. We might be tempted to set the evacuation of Attica beside the burning of Moscow. Yet comparisons are of little service. When all is said, the action retains a local and individual stamp, which constitutes its character and its title to fame.

The immediate question was how far a migration of this kind could lead to the desired end. Themistocles found himself looked upon in the council of the allies as one without a home. With a proud consciousness of his own dignity he protested that the home of Athens was now within her walls of wood, and that if the Athenians were left unsupported in Greece they would seek a new country for themselves in Italy. His own design, however, supported by the inclination of the people embarked in the fleet, was to bring on a decisive naval battle in the immediate neighbourhood. To those who opposed him, many of whom would have preferred to retreat to the Isthmus, Themistocles represented

that on the withdrawal of the fleet the Persian army would make a forward movement, which would put the Peloponnesus into serious danger, and that without the assistance of the Athenians the rest of the allies would certainly be lost, whilst in the open sea near the Isthmus they would fight at a greater disadvantage than in the narrow Gulf of Salamis. Everything goes to show that the Greeks were under an absolute necessity of fighting on the spot—the Athenians because they were resolved either never to leave their native land while they saw it in the possession of the enemy, or to leave it at once and for ever; the.rest because they could not acquiesce in the departure of the Athenians without hazarding their own existence. Xerxes did not doubt that he should master both elements of opposition, and, confident of victory, caused a throne to be erected upon the rocks by the seashore, that he might witness in person the heroism of his sailors.¹ He believed that he was directing the final blow which was to make Hellas his own.

But at this very moment he ceased to be master of the situation, for he allowed himself to be tempted by the cunning Athenian into bringing on the decisive issue in the waters of a gulf, where his superiority of force could not be displayed with advantage. The Persian vessels, advancing in the expectation of finding their enemy in flight, were received by the spirited paean of the Greeks, which—so the narrative runs— was re-echoed from the roadsteads of the island and the shores of the mainland. Themistocles awaited his opportunity and restrained for a brief interval the advance of the Greek vessels, until the hour when the wind usually begins to blow more strongly, and raises a chopping sea in the gulf. This was a point in favour of the Greeks, for the Phoenician vessels, more cumbrous in their movements, were ill adapted to a struggle in narrow waters. This was the time chosen by Themistocles for beginning the main attack. He had no need to fear that his line would be turned. His one aim was to throw the approaching enemy into confusion by a vigorous

¹ The presence of Xerxes is mentioned by Herodotus (viii. 90) and by Plutarch (Themistocles, c. 13).

and well-directed onset, and to drive them back. The result was due, above all, to the fact that, whilst the Persian king watched the emulous efforts of the various maritime nations united beneath his sway as one observing a spectacle, the leader of the Greeks, straining all the resources of his genius and his skill, and profiting by every advantage, commanded in person a people whose whole future depended upon the victory of the hour. The different squadrons of the Persian fleet were incapable of concerted action. Upon the first unexpected success of the Greeks they fell into disorder and confusion. Artemisia, Queen of Halicarnassus, who was serving under the Persians, ran into and sunk a ship belonging to them in order to secure her own safety. Whilst the Persian ships were retiring from the struggle with the Athenians, they were intercepted and some of them captured by the vessels of the yEginetans, who now in the general peril had come to the support of the Athenians, and exchanged their old jealousy for honourable emulation. The demeanour of Xerxes as he sat upon his throne, his astonishment, his horror, his despair, are incidents of capital importance in the epic story of Herodotus. The success of his whole undertaking depended, in fact, upon success in a naval engagement. He was now conscious that he was defeated, but if his fleet lost the command of the sea even his return was imperilled, and with it the stability of the whole empire.¹ How great was the anxiety for the king’s safe return is evidenced by the story that in the overladen ship which was conveying him past the northern gulfs of the ^Egean Sea he fancied himself in personal danger, but had only to say that now he should see who loved him when a number of Persians at once flung themselves into the sea to secure their sovereign’s life.

¹ The battle of Salamis falls in the archonship of Calliades (Marmor Parium, ep. 51; cf. Herod, viii. 51), 480 B.C. As to the day of the battle, Plutarch gives several discordant dates, of which only that under Camillus, c. 19, can be harmonised with the narrative of Herodotus. Ideler (Handbuch der mathematischen und technischen Chronologie, i. p. 309) cannot make up his mind between Sep tember 23—the day adopted by Petavius—and October 20, preferred by Dodwell. Bockh (Zur Geschichte der Mondcyclen bei den Heiletun, p. 74) assigns the battle to September 20.

Whilst the Persians thus showed how closely their internal organisation and foreign dominion were bound up in the life of the king, as a necessary factor in their own existence, the Greeks on their part did nothing to endanger his personal safety or prevent his return. On the other hand, with a loyal attachment to their gods, they did not doubt that they would avenge on the Persians the injuries they had inflicted on their temples and their religious rites. Nevertheless this did not tempt them to form plans of attack, such as those which had formerly been amongst the dreams of Aristagoras. But they had now, as they thought, certain evidence that the gods were not minded to see Asia and Europe united under one ruler—in other words, that the gods had not appointed Hellas to form a portion of the Persian empire. The task immediately before them was accordingly to compel the retreat of the Persians who were "Still encamped on Grecian soil. In the ensuing summer we see the two fleets lying opposite to each other, the Persians near Samos, the Greeks near Delos, without, however, joining battle. Everything depended upon the issue of the struggle by land. Mardonius, who had conducted the first expedition and had made preparations for the second, had no intention of giving way. He still felt confident of bringing about a decision in favour of the Persians ; he designed even to bring the Athenians over to his side by restoring their land and recognising their independence. In this he completely misconstrued the temper which his attacks had aroused in the people of Attica. Only one man, named Lykidas, was found in Salamis t,o advise submitting these proposals to the people. The mere thought was enough to excite the fury of the multitude. Lykidas was stoned by the people, and as, when the traitor was stoned at Jericho, all his house had to expiate his offence, so now the Athenian women stoned the wife and children of the obnoxious person. Whoever took part in a trespass against the gods of the country was to be wiped from the face of the earth.

It is well known that all the Greeks did not share the enthusiasm of the Athenians. A number of the Greek

populations were still ranged on the side of the Medo- Persians. But now Lakedaemon roused herself in support of Athens. The republics so fundamentally opposed to each other, the demos of the Spartiatae and the demos of Athens, made common cause. The danger was still pressing. Mardonius had quitted Attica because it offered no ground suitable for his cavalry. The Athenians had already returned in great numbers. They marshalled their forces to the number of 8,000 heavy-armed men at Eleusis. They would scarcely have been able to defend themselves against a renewed invasion, and probably they would have been ruined, if the Spartans had not brought the power of Peloponnesus to their support. On a former occasion, when the Spartans had in view the conquest of Athens, it was at Eleusis that the Peloponnesians had separated from them. Now, when the general freedom was at stake, they came to their aid; to this extent, at any rate, the idea of Panhellenism had infused itself into their political life. Corinth set 5,000 men in the field, Sikyon and Megara 3,000 men each ; small contingents presented themselves from ^Egina, the Arcadian towns, and the shores and plains in the neighbourhood. The 5,000 Spartiatae, led by their king, Pausanias, the guardian of the young son left by Leonidas, were each attended by seven helots. They were joined by an equal force of the Periaeki, heavily armed. All ranks of the population, the rulers, the ruled, the freemen, were united. The number of the whole army is reckoned at more that 100,000 men; but it was absolutely without cavalry, whereas it was in their cavalry that the strength of the Persians chiefly consisted. The eye surveys a strange scene as it glances now at the Greeks, whose varieties of aspect marked the different localities from which they were gathered, and now at the host of Asiatics by whom they were confronted.

Mardonius had under him not only Persians, but Medes, the principal representatives of the ancient Iran, Bactrians, even Indians of kindred stock, and finally some Scythian troops, the Sakae. These he ranged opposite to the Lakedae- monians and their Dorian allies; to the Athenians, on the

other hand, he opposed the Greeks who had come over to his side, the Boeotians, Locrians, Phokians, and Thessalians. The shock of the two armies took place in the marches of the Plataean territory. It promised, one might suppose, to be a battle of the two nations in the grand style. Yet it did not in fact prove to be so. Mardonius was indisputably the better prepared. His cavalry, which had sustained some few losses but had not been materially weakened, prevented the conveyance of provisions over Mount Kithaeron, and even cut off the Greeks from the water of the Asopus. A spring which supplied them ceased to run, and they saw themselves compelled to look out for another position. At the very crisis of this dangerous movement they were attacked by the Persians. There was every probability that they would be defeated, especially since even at this juncture they were little subservient to command, and each troop acted without concert and according to its own inclination. Mardonius had once ere this proposed to the Lakedaemonians to bring the great struggle between barbarians and Greeks to a decision by a kind of duel between champions selected from the flower of the Spartan and Persian warriors. No answer had been returned to this suggestion, but the course of events brought about something which resembled it. When the cavalry had desisted from the pursuit, the best-disciplined of the Persian troops advanced to fight out their quarrel with the Spartans, the flower of the Greek army. Then, however, was manifested the great distinction between barbarians and Hellenes. The former could indeed employ their offensive weapons with skill, but they had no defensive armour. Throwing themselves upon the Spartans in small companies of ten men each, they were crushed at all points, and had to abandon the struggle. Mardonius, whose presence was recognised through the white horse on which he rode, fell mortally wounded at the same time. His death caused a general discouragement among the' Persians. They hastened back to their camp, which was not inadequately fortified. It is strange that in both battles minor incidents—the rapid advance of the Athenians at Marathon, the resolute stand

made by the Spartans at Platea—were decisive of the issue. The Persian camp yielded to the attack of the Greeks, among whom this time the Athenians once more bore off the palm by their readiness of resource. A hideous massacre annihilated the army which had been designed for the conquest of Greece. One detachment indeed, led by a Persian, had taken no part in the battle. They retreated in haste, owing their freedom from molestation to the fact that the news of the defeat had not yet spread, and went first into Thrace and next to Byzantium, whence vessels conveyed them over into Asia.

The enterprise owed its conception to Mardonius, who perished in the course of it. Two brief encounters by sea and by land had sufficed to frustrate the attempts of the Persians to obtain a foothold, in Europe and subdue Hellas. To appreciate the contrast between the contending powers it is sufficient to call to mind the proposal made to the Spartan king, Pausanias, to avenge Leonidas, whose body had been impaled by the Persians, by treating the corpse of Mardonius in the same manner. Pausanias rejected the proposition as an outrage, and forbade its renewal ; it was worthy, he said, of a barbarian, not of a Greek. A whole world of reflections is suggested by this refusal. The contrast between East and West is expressed by it in characters which were destined to be distinctive of their subsequent history.

At the same moment that the Persian power was overthrown in Hellas the supremacy of the Hellenes in the ■ifLgean Sea became a reality. The occurrence of both battles on the same day, and the apparently miraculous transmission of the news of the victory at Plataea to the shores of Ionia, may raise questions which we prefer to leave open. Yet it is obvious that both events were homogeneous in the impulses from which they sprang and the consequences to which they led. The Persian fleet left its station at Samos, probably because it had become evident that no reliance could be placed on the Ionians, in whose shipping their maritime strength consisted. The Phoenicians entirely gave up their share in the struggle and sailed homewards. To save the rest of the

ships there seemed to be no other course open but to draw them up on the shore and to secure them against hostile attack by means of a rampart. Thus the crews of the vessels fought with each other upon land, the scene of action being the promontory of Mycale. Here again the superior skill of the Greeks prevailed over the valour of the Persians. The question is said to have been discussed whether the Ionians, who had been faithful to the Hellenic cause, might not be transplanted once more to their native soil, and placed in possession of the districts of those tribes who had sympathised with Persia ; but such a transference was an undertaking of too wide a scope to be attempted. All that was finally achieved was the admission of the most important islands, Lesbos, Chios, and Samos, into the Symmachia, or warlike confederacy of the Hellenes. The islanders took a solemn vow not to desert that alliance. This of itself was a success of even greater moment for the future than for the present. But the integrity of the Persian empire was undisturbed.

The invasion of Greece by the Persians must be placed in the same category with their undertakings against the Massa- getae, the Ethiopians, and the nomad Scythians, all being attempts to extend the empire beyond its natural limits. In the other countries on the Persian frontier the resistance was only passive ; in Greece it took the extremely active form which henceforward characterised it throughout.

For the immediate present, however, that active opposition was impeded, or rather interrupted, by internal divisions. As a rule a war marked by great events is succeeded by civil disturbances even in the states which have issued victorious from the struggle. This was the case after the Persian war even in Sparta, secured though she was by her rigorous legal system. It was obviously inconsistent to entrust the kings with the conduct of the army, uncontrolled as yet by the presence of an aristocratic council,¹ and after they had grown accustomed to universal obedience, and had returned with the glory earned by great achievements, to attempt to subject them to the

¹ According to Thuk. v. 63, the law, in virtue of which ten ai^ovXai were assigned to the king, was not enacted till the year 418.

rigorous censorship of the Ephors. It may easily be conceived that the two Spartan kings who had rendered the greatest service to the common cause, Pausanias by land, Leotychides at the head of the naval force, declined to submit after their return to the laws by which their power was fettered. They were compelled, first the one and then the other, to go into exile. Leotychides took refuge with the Arcadians,¹ who were independent members of the league; Pausanias retired to Byzantium, where his proximity to the Persian frontier gave him a certain independence, so much so that he incurred the suspicion of desiring to ally himself with the king of Persia. The Spartiatae required Pausanias to return, and threatened to wage war upon him if he refused.

The opposition of the kings to the aristocracy went hand in hand with a movement among their subjects, who also had taken part in the war ; and it would seem as if the kings had designed to set themselves at their head and deliver themselves from the fetters of the aristocracy. But the latter had grown too powerful to be displaced. The victor of Platea, who had obeyed the injunction to return, came to a miserable end. Religious scruples forbade his enemies to- slay him in the sanctuary in which he had sought asylum, or to drag him away by force, but they removed the roof and sealed the door. They kept him prisoner thus until he was- exhausted by hunger, and only dragged him forth when he was breathing his last.² Leotychides was too cautious to. return, and died at Tegea. But the death of Pausanias was closely connected with an insurrection of the helots and a revolt of the Messenians, while the flight of Leotychides to Tegea is associated with a war with Arcadia and Argos. This war was only brought to a close after two great battles, whilst the helots were not suppressed without a similar effort.

¹ Leotychides was accused of treason to the state; it was alleged that he might have conquered all Thessaly, but had allowed himself to be bribed, and was caught in the fact (eV¹ auTo<f>ajpcf3 aXovs) with his hand full of silver (Herod, vi. 72).

² Pausanias is instanced by Aristotle (Pol. v. 6, 2 = p. 208, 2 Bekker) to illustrate the words 4dv tis fiiyas fl ical Suv&ptms eri >v elycu, 'Iva fiovapxV> and is compared with Hanno of Carthage.

We here obtain a glance into a world in ferment, where the monarchy, in its effort for independence, makes common cause with the insubordinate members of the league and their own revolted subjects. It was only by the severest struggles that the aristocracy prevailed. They were even compelled, in order to subdue the Messenians, to invoke the assistance of the Athenians, although the latter regarded the Messenians as of kindred stock with themselves.

Ferments still more violent had broken out in the Athenian commonwealth. Heads of the state are equally indispensable to republics, whether democratic or oligarchical, and yet are equally intolerable to either. The Athenians had for a while followed with blind acquiescence the guidance of Themistocles. Thukydides admires in Themistocles that prompt intuition which made it possible for him to hit upon the best expedient in pressing difficulties, and even to penetrate the sccrets of the future. If we understand him aright he ascribes to him the perfection of a healthy common sense ready to meet every crisis, without the need of previous deliberation or discipline. He rendered an inestimable service to Greece and to the world by concentrating all the power of Athens in her maritime life, and leading her to her goal by his energy and finesse. But in this his design was directed not only against the Medo-Persians, but also against the Lakedse- monians, the most important members of the Greek confederacy. It was due to him that the walls of Athens were rebuilt against the wish of the Spartans. Themistocles threw obstacles in the way of the negotiations, and purposely delayed them until the work had advanced too far to be broken off. A model for all succeeding Athenian statesmen, he did not forget, whilst repelling the Medo-Persian invasion, to oppose the preponderance of Sparta. The exclusion of the cities which had displayed Median sympathies from the Amphictyonic council was prevented by him, because it would have turned the balance of power by land in favour of the Spartans.

Another of his services was the fortification of the Peiraeus. This harbour, the finest in Greece, two miles in circuit, and

as much as twenty fathoms deep, is well protected from the winds and offers good anchorage. Perhaps those mighty foundation walls, which are still to be seen jutting out from the promontory, which forms the entrance, across the mouth of the harbour, are to be assigned to his epoch and to his hand.

In the midst of his achievements he indulged a keen ■sense of his personal merit. It is a saying ascribed to him by tradition that he did not know how to tune a lyre, but could turn an insignificant state into a great one. On the floating corpses of those slain in the naval engagement were to be seen golden chains and other ornaments. ‘ Gather these up,’ said he to his attendant, ‘ for thou art not Themistocles.’ To efface his own personality in the true republican spirit was not in his nature. He willingly bore the expense of tragic contests, but he claimed that the records of these should be inscribed with his name. He was ostentatious, insolent, and even cruel, and loved splendour even more than he loved authority. Themistocles belongs to that class of politicians who never at any time regard themselves as bound by previous stipulations, but consider all means permissible which conduce to their end. A nature such as his, whose conduct under all conditions obeyed the impulse of an ambitious spirit, could only find a place in a democratic republic so long as great emergencies made it indispensable.

The ingenious expedient employed in the Athenian republic of banishing by ostracism individuals whose growing power endangered political equality was directed against Themistocles.¹ Sparta, no less than Athens, found him insupportable. In the proceedings against Pausanias circumstances were brought to light which justified the reproach that he had known and concealed the designs of the Spartan king. Sparta and Athens took steps in concert to arrest the victor of

¹ Diodorus (xi. 54) assigns the ostracism of Themistocles to the archonship of Praxiergus, Ol. 75, 2 = 471-470 B.C. With this agrees the dale in Cornelius Nepos [Aristides, c. 3), ‘Aristides decessit fere po=t annum quartum quam Themistocles Athenis erat expulsus. ’ Aristeides lived to witness the representation of /Eschylus’ CEdipodeia (Plutarch, Aristides, c. 3), which took place 01. 78, I = 457 B.C.

Salamis for having made a compact with the enemy whom he had then repulsed. Themistocles withdrew from Argos, where he was sojourning, to Korkyra, and then to Admetus, king of the Molossians, in whom he feared to find an enemy, having formerly advised the rejection of a request preferred by him at Athens. The suppliant was admitted to protection, but could not tarry there long. He had a hundred talents with him, the Great King had set another two hundred upon his head, and to a pirate he would have proved a rich prize. Themistocles nevertheless passed safely to Ephesus, from which, conducted by a Persian, he penetrated into the heart of the empire, and at last reached the Persian court to seek safety with the enemy whom he had driven out of Greece. He was received not as an enemy but as a friend. Three important cities were assigned him for his maintenance, in the chief of which, Magnesia, his grave was shown in later times.

We are reluctantly compelled to reject the accounts of later historians, according to which the king to whom Themistocles made his escape was Xerxes, who is said to have contemplated sending into the field against the Greeks the man by whom he had been defeated.¹ Themistocles, it is said, could not bring himself to consent to such a proposal, and at a banquet with his friends he offered sacrifice to the gods and then slew himself. But the story indicates the light in which Themistocles was regarded by the generation which succeeded him.

¹ According to the tradition of Ephorus, Demon, Cleitarchus, Heracleides (Plutarch, TkemisL 27), Xerxes was then still alive. On the other hand, Thuky- dides makes Themistocles arrive in Persia in the reign of Artaxerxes. Plutarch has attempted to combine the two accounts, and thus has imparted to the first and original account an entirely fabulous aspect. The account as it appears in Plutarch presupposes a state of tranquillity such as, after the murder of Xerxes by Artabanus, who even seems to have introduced an interregnum, is not probable. The tradition here has traits of a fabulous nature. In Diodorus (xi. c. 58) the legend appears less overladen with imaginary details than elsewhere. The main statement rests upon historical grounds, as is proved hy two extant coins which Themistocles caused to be coined in Magnesia after the Attic standard (cf. Brandis, Das Munz, Mass- und Gcwichtswesen in Vorderasicn, pp. 327* 459)*

Pausanias and Themistocles, apart from the fabulous touches added by tradition, is that both the generals to whom the successful issue of the war against the Persians was principally due soon afterwards fell into disfavour with the communities to which they belonged. Pausanias was destroyed by the Gerusia. Themistocles took refuge with the Persians, who gave him their protection, after which he disappears. Posterity has not been able to recall the living image of Pausanias, but we know more of Themistocles. He is perhaps the first man who appears upon the scene of universal history as a creature of flesh and blood, playing a part at times the reverse of praiseworthy, yet always great. Amid the clash of the great forces of the world his will was to rule and never to be ruled, but those forces were too strong for him, and he was overwhelmed by them. Yet while the worker succumbed, his work survived the storm and lived for centuries. Themistocles is the founder of the historical greatness of Athens.

To return to the war between Hellenes and Persians, it is clear from this example that the Great King had but little to fear in the way of reprisals from his enemies in the West. It was improbable that in either the aristocratic or democratic republic, or in the Greek community at large, any power or any individual would arise likely to prove dangerous to himself. It is, moreover, an error to ascribe to the Greeks designs of this kind. The overthrow of the Persian monarchy, which rested on political conditions totally dissimilar to their own, they could not have projected. But they contemplated and seriously undertook the restoration of that state of things which had preceded the attacks of Persia. They were unceasing in their efforts to expel the Persians from Thrace, to give freedom to the cities on the Asiatic coast, to recover their naval supremacy in the eastern Mediterranean, to sever Cyprus, and perhaps even Egypt, once more from the great monarchy. Even for this object, no voluntary combination of all the Hellenes, not even so much as concerted action between Sparta and Athens, was to be expected, for, as we have said, in Sparta the paramount influence which a successful general might bring to bear upon the domestic

condition of their republic was an object of dread. The Spartans had no real objection to allowing Athens to take the lead in the conflicts with Persia, a position which seemed to be justified by the growth of her maritime power.¹

Sparta connived at the formation of that maritime confederacy in which the islands and seaports which were menaced by the Persians attached themselves to Athens, who contented herself in return with moderate contributions, without limiting the autonomy of her allies in home affairs. This is the Delian League, of the.progress of which we shall soon have more to say. The two great men, Aristeides, alternately the friend and the opponent of The- mistocles, and Kimon, the son of the victor of Marathon, acted here in concert, the first in negotiation, the second in resolute and successful enterprises. At first Kimon directed his efforts to the north, where he could combine the advantage of the state with that private family interest of which we have spoken above. On the Strymon he attacked the Persians, by whom the Athenians had been expelled from those regions, and subdued them with the assistance of the surrounding tribes. The Persian general burnt himself, like Sardanapalus, in the midst of his treasures. The Chersonese fell into Kimon’s hands after a struggle with the Persians and their allies the Thracians. The conquered districts were portioned out to colonists from Athens.

His next step, an invitation to the Greek cities on the shores of Asia to recover their freedom, could not be attended by any marked success as long as the combined naval forces of Persia and Phoenicia were paramount in the eastern Mediterranean. Accordingly it was against this supremacy that the chief efforts of Athens and her allies were directed. Kimon, at the head of a squadron of 200 sail, undertook an

¹ Demosthenes in his third Philippic (iii. c. 23, p. 116) fixes the duration of the Athenian hegemony at seventy-three years (irpoa-TdTai /ih i/isis urn

enj Kal tpia iyeveo’de, TrpQa’TdraL 8e rpidtcovra evbs SeoVTa AaKcSai[i6vioi). If we count from the end (01. 93, 4 = 404 B.C.) of the Peloponnesian war, 01. 75, 4 = 477 B.C. appears to be the date of the commencement of the hegemony of the Athenians, and with this Diodorus agrees, who places it (xi. 44) in the archonship of Adei- mantus.

expedition designed to support the Greek cities on the southern coast of Asia Minor in their struggle for emancipation, and to expel the Persian garrisons still to be found there. By persuasion and force he succeeded in his object in the districts of Caria, but the Persians resolved to bar his further progress, and sent, as their practice was, a combined naval and military armament against him.¹ Kimon first attacked the fleet, and the superiority of the Greeks to the Phoenicians was once more made manifest. A hundred vessels with their crews fell into the hands of the Greeks, who also captured many others which had been abandoned. The latter Kimon now employed, if we may believe the account currently accepted, in the execution of a most successful stratagem. It is said that he manned the empty vessels in his turn, disguising his people in Persian clothes, of which a large supply had come into his possession. In this way he surprised at night the Persian camp by the Eury- medon, where the approaching fleet was awaited as a friendly one, attacked it at once, and, profiting by the confusion, overpowered it. Kimon, whose presence of mind did' not desert him in the hour of victory, was careful to prevent his troops from separating in quest of plunder, and recalled them by a prearranged fire-signal, which they obeyed even in the heat of pursuit. After this they erected a trophy. Thus a double victory was won on the same day by land and sea.²

. ¹ We may regard Diodorus as a trustworthy authority here, since Plutarch (Cimoti, c. 11) ascribes to Ephorus exactly the same details as are found in Diodorus. Accordingly we may take it as certain that here, at any rate, Diodorus had Ephorus before him. Plutarch quotes two other historians, Callis- thenes and Phanodemus. who vary from Ephorus. The name of the Persian commander as given by Callisthenes is not the same as that in Diodorus, whilst the number of the Athenian ships is differently given by Phanodemus.

² The battle of the Eurymedon is assigned by Clinton to 466, by Grote to 465. It is in favour of the latter of these assumed dates that, according to the account in Thukydides, Themistocles, in his flight to Asia—which, according to the historian’s account, falls in the year 465 (i. 137, iirireixnei ypdnfiaTa els fiatnKia p.4p£ovj vcomtt'l f3a(Ti\€vovTci)—found the Athenian fleet engaged in the blockade of Naxos (i. 137), and immediately upon this, or at the same moment, followed the battle at the Eurymedon (i. 98, &c.) We have taken accqunt of the year above, in fixing the date of the death of Aristagoras.

demonstrated, than the prospect was opened up to them of bringing their power to bear upon Egypt, a country in whose concerns they had already interfered.

Xerxes, whom fate had spared to experience the further defeat at the Eurymedon, was slain in the following year¹—an episode often repeated in the case of despotic governments in ancient and modern times, even among the Romans in the epoch of the Empire. He was the victim of a conspiracy among the men in whom he chiefly placed confidence, Artabanus, the commander of his body guard, and the high chamberlain, who controlled the palace. The conspiracy, however, aimed at more than his death. In Xerxes were united the two lines of the Achaemenidse. It was the design of the assassins absolutely to put an end to the dominion of this race. If we are not mistaken, this purpose must be associated with the disasters to which the policy of Darius and Xerxes had led. The reigning family had lost its authority and was to be overthrown. Artabanus himself aspired to the throne, but matters did not come to that pass. The elder of Xerxes sons had shared the fate of his father, but this only stimulated the second son, Artaxerxes, to a more determined resistance. The tradition runs that he saved life and throne in a personal encounter with Artabanus. On this point accounts and opinions are at variance, but we may abide by the main fact that Artaxerxes, the second son of Xerxes, made the dominion of the Achaemenid secure for more than a century. He was distinguished by the Greeks from other kings of the same name by an epithet which means the Long-handed, and was derived from a physical disproportion.

Artaxerxes did not feel himself called upon to extend the empire and carry out his father’s projects of universal dominion; his business was simply to maintain and to protect the power which he inherited, and which, even after the recent disasters, was still very extensive. The most important question was accordingly how far Artaxerxes would be acknowledged by

¹ The statement of Diodorus that Artaxerxes himself laid violent hands on his elder brother Darius cannot be maintained, being contradicted by the evidence of Aristotle {Pol. v. c. 10-220, 13 Bekker).

the subject populations, which had by no means yet forgotten their old independence. Undoubtedly the decline of the naval power of Persia, in consequence of the battle of Eury- medon, contributed to make obedience doubtful, especially in Egypt, a region which still retained the largest measure of independence. Inarus, the prince of a Libyan district which had been annexed but not brought to complete subjection, induced the Egyptians without much difficulty to revolt from Persia, and invoked the aid of the Athenians.¹ Their fleet happened to be in Cyprus at the time, but immediately sailed for Egypt, where the Greeks, Libyans, and revolted Egyptians united their forces and occupied the town of Memphis, with the exception of its citadel, which was called the White Castle. Inarus availed himself of the wealth of corn in Egypt to establish his alliance with Athens on a firmer basis, and sent considerable supplies across the sea.²

It is probable that commercial motives amongst others prompted the building of the Long Walls, by which the citadel and town of Athens were united with the seaport. But they were needed for another reason. The misunderstandings between Sparta and Athens had reached such a climax that there was reason to dread an invasion of the Attic territory on the part of the Spartans. We encounter here a complication in the general condition of public affairs. Artaxerxes is said to have attempted to prevail upon the Spartans to invade Attica, hoping, of course, thus to relieve himself at a single blow from the hostile attacks of Athens. Such an alliance was, however, reserved for later times. At that time it would have seemed treasonable, and accordingly the Spartans declined the Persian proposals. Athens would indeed have secured a great position for herself if Inarus had succeeded in maintaining his seat upon the throne of Egypt.

¹ According to Diodorus, xi. 71, Inarus promised the Athenians a share in the government of Egypt (inrKfyvovfitvos avrois, e&v ehevBeptotrwcrt tovs AlyujTTiovs,

³ There is no question that Athens imported corn from Egypt at this epoch. Though the name of Psammetichus, who was the father of Inachus, is given here, which does not suit the date, we may, perhaps, assume a confusion hetween the two names (cf. W, A. Schmidt, Das perikleische Zeitalter, i. p. 44).

But she was not in a position to employ all her power on behalf of Inarus at the critical time. We find an inscription¹ in which are named the members of one of the ten Attic tribes who were slain in one and the same year, in Cyprus, Egypt, Phoenicia, ^Egina, Halieis, and Megara. To this dissipation of the available forces of the republic we may attribute the result that Egypt, undoubtedly the principal theatre of the war, was inadequately supported by the efforts of Athens.

Nevertheless we cannot entirely forget the Egyptian war as a part of her history. Artaxerxes employed all his military strength, with the advantage also of some previous military training, in the subjugation of Egypt. His success corresponded to his efforts. Upon the appearance of a Perso-Phoenician fleet at the mouths of the Nile, the investment of the citadel of Memphis, in which the Grasco-Libyan army of Inarus was engaged, could no longer be maintained, in the absence of the Athenian fleet. The Athenians hoped to be able to hold out upon an island in the Nile, but the Persians, probably favoured by the time of year, were able to dry up the arm of the river upon which they had relied for protection. The Greeks defended themselves stoutly, burning their ships, that they might not fall into the enemy’s hands, and pledging themselves to resist to the last. Almost the whole force was destroyed, and only a small number succeeded in reaching Kyrene.² An Athenian fleet of fifty sail appeared on the coast only when the issue was decided beyond recall, and Egypt passed once more under the power of the Persians.

Egypt had already witnessed a conflict between Greeks and Persians. The victories of Cambyses were repeated by Artaxerxes. But, as may be supposed, such a result did not satisfy the ambition and energy of the Greeks, and it was

² We adhere to the account in Thukydides, i. 110. The discrepancies in Diodorus, xi. 77, are of no importance, since in another place (xiii. 25) his statements are in harmony with those of Thukydides. So also are the words of Isocrates (irep! tip^j/Tjs 87, p. 176 b), eis Aiyvnrov Simcdtriai ir\evirdirai rpijipets

impossible that Athens could look on with patience whilst the naval power of Phoenicia was recovering its old importance. Some years later, after Athens and Sparta had come to a temporary accommodation, Kimon undertook a new expedition, directed principally against Cyprus, but aiming further at Egypt, and even at the overthrow of the Persian empire. The project is intelligible by the light of the experiment which had been made just before it to replace the ruling dynasty by another. Inarus had been captured and crucified, but in the Delta Amyrtaeus, a pretender of true Egyptian lineage, still held his ground ; and, since, as so often happened, misunderstandings had arisen between the satraps and the court of the Great King, any success might of course have brought about a turn of fortune. Kimon consulted the oracle of Jupiter Ammon, in which he might naturally have expected to find Egyptian sympathies, but before the answer arrived he was already dead (B.C. 449), probably in consequence of a wound received before Kitium, in Cyprus. Unfortunately we have very imperfect information about these events. For the most important transactions of a time in which Herodotus and Thukydides were living we are referred to mere hearsay, as set down by later authors. From Thukydides we only learn that after Kimon’s death the Phoenicians were successfully encountered, near Salamis in Cyprus, in another double battle by land and sea. Thus, though Egypt was lost, the dominion of the sea was maintained.

At this point, however, a difficulty presents itself to the critical historian which we cannot leave undiscussed, and which requires, indeed, immediate attention. To Kimon himself is ascribed the conclusion of a peace with Persia, concerning which an absolute silence prevails elsewhere. It is asserted that a formal compact was concluded between the republic of Athens and the Great King, in which the latter expressly renounced all attempts to subjugate the Ionian cities, and besides engaged not to send his fleet to sea beyond certain clearly indicated limits. The Athenians on their part are said to have bound themselves not to attack the territories of the king Artaxerxes. This account has been the subject of

much learned controversy. The fact of such a peace has generally been denied, because it is not mentioned in the principal contemporary authors. We have just alluded to the defective nature of the information about this period. But Herodotus mentions an embassy of the Athenian Callias to the Persian court, which can scarcely have had any other aim than the re-establishment of peace. The mission itself was a friendly advance, considering that the status belli still continued, and had led to events which imperilled the dependence of Egypt and Cyprus upon the Persian empire. In order to put an end to such dangers, the Great King would have to treat for peace, and to consider what terms he could offer to the Athenians. To Athens nothing could be of more importance than that she should remain mistress of the sea, secure from the fear of any attack by the Persians upon the Greek cities in Asia. To attain the first object was the principal motive of Kimon’s naval expedition ; the second was of immense importance for the consolidation of the Athenian dominion in the Archipelago. If, therefore, it was definitively settled that no Persian vessel of war was to pass beyond the line of the Phaselis and the Kyanean rocks, whilst at the same time the land forces of the satraps were to remain three days’ journey from the coast, we have here the very conditions which the Athenians must have regarded as those it was most important to secure. Only on their fulfilment could they promise to leave the dominions of the king unassailed. No formal peace was concluded, but an understanding was apparently come to, sufficient to guarantee the general repose.¹

¹ There can be no doubt that Diodorus derived from Ephorus the information which he gives us that a peace was actually effected. It is, however, not probable either that this author forged a treaty out of love for the political fancies of his master, Isocrates, or that any motive can have existed at a later time for actually engraving such a forged treaty upon a column. The treaty harmonises too accurately with the circumstances of the middle of the fifth century to have been invented in the fourth. That Herodotus only mentions the embassy in a cursoiy way, and the convention not at all, is explained when we remember that these later circumstances did not come within the scope of his history, which would have lost its unity and objectivity by too exact an explanation of later events. In the explanation of the passage in Thuk. vii. 25, 26, to which Dahlmann and Manso refer, Grote (History of Greece, v. 454, n. 1) is, in my

It is probable that the state of things which did in fact ensue was regarded as preliminary to a formal compact. The double battle near the Cyprian Salamis may be regarded as the last act in the war between Hellenes and Persians at this stage of history. The Hellenes maintained their independence, and achieved supremacy on the sea ; the Persian empire, however, still remained intact, and still maintained its dominant position in the world. If we might venture to measure and estimate the course of general history by the forces at work below the surface, we might say that the time for the universal supremacy of Greece was not yet come. The Greeks, in consequence of the Medo-Persian war, and of the victories they had achieved, were in a state of internal commotion, in which the intellectual aspects of their life appeared in strong relief. These intestine struggles, which continued without interruption, but led to no decisive results of importance, did not interrupt their development in any direction, but rather served to excite that emulation which is a necessary incentive to the production of works of literature and art. On the other hand, a struggle with Persia would have been fatal to these tendencies even if the Greeks had been victorious ; military success and the fascination of conquest would have enlisted all their energies and directed them to other ends. An epoch of equilibrium between the Persian monarchy and the Greek republics, such an equilibrium as followed upon the battle of Mycale, and even more conspicuously upon that of the Eurymedon, was essential in order to leave the Greeks time for their internal development. In this, however, nothing was of such advantage to them as the complete independence of Athens. Here that constitution was matured which, just because it was composed of such divergent elements, prepared the way for the movements of mind and gave a field for its exercise in civil and social life.

judgment, right. The name ‘ Peace of Kimon ’ must, however, not be taken literally; it was only an accommodation made by the Athenians about the time of Kimon’s decease.

The political relations which we have been considering, though dominating the whole world, were, nevertheless, not the only subjects which engaged attention ; nor, indeed, after the decisive actions at Plataea and Mycale, were they even the most important of such subjects. In the midst of these complications, the differences between one Greek city or state and another developed themselves. Above all, it was in great part due to these very complications that one of the most remarkable phenomena which the history of the world has known made its appearance ; we mean the Athenian democracy. There is a close correspondence between these internal movements and the contests waged with adverse forces from without. We have purposely brought our account of the latter to the point at which a state of equilibrium had resulted, and we have abstained from mentioning internal struggles that we may now contemplate them with less distraction.

It is natural to regard the various forms of government as distinguished from each other by the existence in each of a political idea peculiar to itself; but this is not the historical account of the matter.

The democracy of Athens owed its origin and its foundation on a solid basis to the struggle between the tyranny in a monarchical form, and the oligarchic rule of the leading

families. Solon in an epoch of universal confusion had attempted to establish a system of equilibrium between the aristocracy and the commons of Athens by reserving to the latter a certain share in the government of the commonwealth. But he had been unable to prevent the immediate rise of a tyranny which controlled the people whilst it kept down the oligarchy. Setting himself not only against the tyranny but against the oligarchy also, when it rose once more to the surface, the Alcmseonid Cleisthenes had thoroughly reformed the constitution of Solon, had remodelled the commons, and had made it his first concern to put arms in their hands. The people of Athens, now for the first time waking to a consciousness of political existence, received the gift with eagerness. They resisted with resolution and success every attempt which the Lakedsemonians made in connection with a faction of the Eupatridae to wrest from them the concessions which they had obtained. They proved themselves able to repel the first invasion of the Persians, which aimed at the restoration of the Athenian tyranny, and to endure the second, which aimed at a subjection of all the Greeks, with a resignation and willing self-sacrifice till then without example.

The leaders under whom Athens achieved her victories did not gain through their services a secure position in their own city. The aristocratic Miltiades was condemned to pay a fine, and, being unable to do so, died, it would appear, in prison. Themistocles, aiming at an exceptional position, was banished. Next to these heroic forms appear Aristeides, who had been one of the most active adherents of Cleisthenes, and Kimon, the son of Miltiades—excellent men, who in their turn, as the change of affairs demanded, maintained a high position and exercised a great influence in the State. In a sense different from that touched on above, the after-effects of the war with Persia were manifested.

The old families had taken a keen interest in the war, acting in concert with the rising democracy. Each side could claim a share in the victory, but the results of the struggle tended mainly to the advantage of the people. The

preponderance obtained by the popular element may be traced mainly to the Persian war, and that in two ways. The desolation with which- the Persians had visited the land affected the aristocratic proprietors most sensibly; and after the war they found themselves grievously impoverished. On the other hand, the victories won had raised the standard of living among the lower orders and increased their substance. Even during the struggle itself the effects of these disturbed relations became apparent. Before the battle of Plataea, a kind of conspiracy was traced in Plataea itself among the families of distinction. Their aim is said to have been to break up the democracy, or, failing that, to pass over to the Persians. Their purpose was discovered ; the two most guilty of the conspirators saved themselves by flight; others supposed themselves undiscovered, and would seem to have repented of their intention.

Aristeidcs might perhaps have had sufficient authority to revive the old prerogatives, but he regarded this as impracticable, not merely because the relations of property had altogether changed, but principally because the people, having once borne arms, could not be brought back to their previous state of subordination. By arms and by victories, reputations had been won, involving a natural claim to a share in the highest offices. Besides this, the people distinctly avowed that they would no longer acquiesce in the old restrictions. It is obvious that thus the equilibrium between the old families and the Demos, upon which the Solonian constitution was based, was completely destroyed. This was the natural consequence of years of war and victory. The people had tasted freedom ; they had shed their blood for it, and without violence and danger the old state of things could not have been maintained. The abrogation of the privileges of the noble and wealthy families was a necessary step towards bringing the democracy into complete relief. Aristeides was not restrained by that love of justice which is his chief title to fame from favouring this design. As ^Eschylus expresses it in a passage which is rightly regarded as pointing to him, he wished not only to seem but to be just—a great sayingi

which we may conceive to have been suggested by the fact that he did not hesitate to acknowledge the rights won by the people in the national struggle, feeling that arms led to freedom. Through the progress of trade, of the marine, and of the dominion with which the latter was associated, the democracy, although as yet not completely developed, assumed the ascendant.

This ascendency at once opened the further question, how far democracy might be guided to the advantage of the whole commonwealth. For this task Aristeides was exactly adapted. Whilst Themistocles refused to efface his personality even under the democracy, it was the merit of Aristeides that he put self in the background. He withdrew a proposition at the very moment when it was being passed, because the previous speeches for and against had convinced him that his plan was not perfectly adapted to its end. Propositions of undoubted utility were made by him through others, because they would otherwise have been rejected, through the jealousy which his name had begun to excite. Aristeides was accounted poor, and prided himself upon being so ; nevertheless he had belonged to the first class in the state, the Pentacosio- medimni, and had become archon by virtue of the old prerogative of that class. This very prerogative he swept away.

All the restrictions which excluded the larger number of the citizens from sharing in the higher offices were removed under his leadership. The electors were one and all made capable of election also, and thus an administration was formed very different to those which had preceded it. Yet it cannot be said that the change ran countcr to the spirit of the constitution, for the power of the individual was still made to depend upon his property ; only the relations of property had themselves undergone a radical change in the course of the last few years. The recognition of this change was the principal work of Aristeides, with respect to the domestic polity of Athens.

But his influence was felt no less sensibly in her attitude towards other powers. Themistocles had entertained the

design of forcing upon the islands the supremacy of Athens, but that which was premature and impossible for him was achieved by Aristeides. The opportunity was afforded by the irritating behaviour of Pausanias, the Spartan king; his arrogant proceedings wounded the pride of the admirals in command of the insular contingents, who complained of his ill-treatment of them. Belonging, as they did, to the Ionian race, they were especially sensitive at having to yield obedience to a Dorian commander-in-chief. They were better inclined towards their kinsmen the Athenians, who, moreover, as having done the most distinguished service in the naval war, seemed to have a special claim to direct its further progress. Moreover, as Pausanias took advantage of the importance which he had acquired at the head of the collective forces of Greece to demean himself in a manner which the Spartan oligarchy found intolerable, even Sparta ceased to have an interest in maintaining the chief command over the fleet. It was indeed remembered how an oracle had predicted that the dominion of the Lakedsemonians would be but a halting one, if it did not embrace at once land and sea, and in consequence the Athenians expected to have to prepare for war, but a member of the Gerusia was able to convince the rest that a naval supremacy was not expedient for Sparta. The Spartans desisted from every attempt to counteract the course of things, and thus were generally understood to have renounced the hegemony. In brief, Athens now assumed the chief command of the naval forces, a result to which they were especially assisted by the confidence inspired by the modest and tranquil character of Aristeides, whose authority in these affairs was now paramount.

It was in keeping with the character of the Athenian democracy to grasp the naval supremacy which the oligarchical Sparta resigned. Aristeides has been credited with having aroused the attention of the Athenians to the advantages which such a position would secure them. He was, at any rate, the principal agent in raising Athens to that position. The new relation could only be based on

Contributions according to a definite assessment, and Aris- teides was commissioned to determine this for the new members of the League. The contributions were fixed at the moderate total of 460 talents, and later on, when they had been raised to three times this amount, the days of the old tribute were praised as a golden, a Saturnian time. At a congress of the members of the League in the temple of Apollo and Artemis, points of detail were next arranged. The members of the League had ostensibly equal rights, but this did not prevent them from falling into a state of dependence upon the Athenians, with whom rested the appointment of the treasurers of Greece, that is, of the League. The members of the League gave in their contributions themselves, and these were originally kept in the temple of Delos. The justice of Aristeides in these transactions was reduced to some shifts, and indeed the ancients never referred this attribute of his to public affairs, in which they conceived him to have been guided by the exigencies of his mother-country.

Aristeides developed on the one hand the democratic constitution, whilst on the other he laid the foundation for the naval supremacy of Athens. The two achievements are closely linked together. In the later his associate was Kimon, who, however, as we have explained, was at the same time prosecuting the war against the Persians on an extensive scale. To this end the naval confederacy put forth all its powers. Yet the very victories which Kimon won led to complications and disturbances among the members of the League, most of whom had some special interest of their own. The reception of those new associates who were attracted by the victories won, involved a change which could not be pleasant to every one ; and, as the payment of the prescribed contributions, if the settlement were called in question, would cause the estrangement of a portion of the fleet, the permanence of the whole confederacy was endangered. Athens resolved to use her whole power to suppress every centrifugal movement. Naxos before and Thasos after the battle of the Eurymedon had this lesson impressed upon them. The particular interest of the latter

island conflicted with that of Athens, inasmuch as it had claims upon the gold mines of the neighbouring continent, which had now fallen into the hands of the Athenians. A formal revolt ensued, which for some years in succession (B.C. 465-463) employed the warlike resources of Athens, until the inhabitants were at length compelled to give up the possession of a naval force of their own and to pay the contributions imposed upon them. For the discharge of these contributions measures were at the same time taken of a character universally binding. Kimon had allowed the smaller communities, which found it inconvenient to unite agricultural labours with service in the fleet, to pay their contributions altogether in money. This concession was ascribed to his humanity, but it is obvious that the power of the leading state was augmented by a change which put into its hands the assessment and exaction of these contributions. The Delian League thus gradually transformed itself into a supremacy of Athens, not maintained without violence, and certain to excite feelings of antipathy, especially on the part of Sparta.

Sparta was at this time involved in the most embarrassing difficulties. The Messenian war had been renewed for the third time. The Spartans, despairing of success in the attempt to master the principal stronghold, Ithome, in which the descendants of the original population maintained themselves, invited Athens to their assistance, in virtue of their ancient covenant. This covenant was indeed still binding, but various misunderstandings had arisen in the course of the last few years. In Athens they professed to have proof that the island of Thasos had applied to Sparta in its necessities, and had actually received from her secret promises of assistance. In the popular assembly at Athens, when the request of Sparta for assistance against Ithome was under discussion, Ephialtes, one of the most popular orators and demagogues of the time, reminded his hearers that this state was the natural enemy of Athens, and that they could have no motive for rescuing her from her perplexities. Kimon insisted that the thing must be done, and said that they ought not to ‘ let Greece be lamed, and Athens herself be deprived of her yoke-fellow.’

He carried his point, and was himself commissioned to lead a small but well-appointed force against Ithome. But this step did but give fresh occasion of quarrel; for the same feeling of a fundamental divergence of interests which had manifested itself at Athens was now no less conspicuous among the Spartiatae. They were almost afraid that Athens would make common cause with their subjects, a race of her own stock, and dismissed the Athenians under the pretext that they needed them no longer. Such treatment could not fail to be resented by Athens as a slight, and the antagonism between Athens and Sparta manifested itself without disguise, with this peculiarity, that in Athens it assumed an intestine form, the rise of the democracy causing aristocratic sympathies to seek and find a support in Sparta.

A breach with Sparta was a disadvantage for the aristocrats at Athens, an advantage for the democracy. Kimon especially was destined to feel this to his cost. He was an aristocrat to the core. In person he was tall, with luxuriant curly hair, no orator, as most Athenians were, and without the refinements of social life, but a simple, truth-loving man, of upright intentions, a thoroughly aristocratic nature, and one moreover of those which impress the people without exciting their hatred. His maritime victories and the authority which he exercised in the naval confederacy earned for him high respect. He was the richest man in Attica, and by the liberality with which he employed his wealth, and the structures and works of art on which he expended it, he played towards his city something like the part of a patron. He opened his gardens to the public, and helped the needy by largesses of food, with the natural result that he had the influence of the lower classes on his side. Though he is said to have understood nothing of the fine arts, the influence which he exercised upon art and its productions in his own epoch was great and stimulating. From Thasos he brought Polygnotus to Athens, who illustrated the greatness of Miltiades in the porticoes which he adorned. There the hero was to be seen at the battle of Marathon cheering on his warriors to the attack. Among

the thirteen figures of bronze given by the Athenians as a votive offering to the Delphic oracle appeared the form of Miltiades alongside of the gods of the race and country. The master hand of Pheidias paid him here the same tribute as Polygnotus had paid him at Athens. _

Kimon gave to the memory of his father and of the great victories achieved against the Persians the devotion of a lifetime. This too is the cornerstone of his policy. Since those victories had been won through the league between Lakedaemon and Athens, Kimon, whilst straining every nerve to prosecute the struggle with Persia, was no less anxious to maintain a good understanding with Lakedsemon. In this he was supported by all those who derived benefit from such aristocratical privileges as still survived, whilst the democratic movement was carried out in opposition to his policy. Two parties- were formed, with antagonistic sympathies and aims; one regarding the struggle with the Medo-Persians as its principal task, and, as a consequence, the maintenance of the old gradations of rank and the alliance with Lakedsemon ; the other placing in the foreground the opposition to Lakedsemon, straining every nerve to make Athens the first power in Greece, and with this end in view developing democratic institutions to their fullest extent. Pericles became the head of the latter party. He too was sprung from one of the leading families ; he was the son of the victor of Mycale, Xanthippus, the man who brought against Miltiades the charges to which he fell a victim. The struggle between the victors of Marathon and Mycale was renewed in their sons.

The successes of Kimon could not fail to disquiet Pericles. Competition for the supreme power has in every state been the cause of variance between its leading citizens, and it has often happened that a member of one of the principal families has, in order to combat another aristocrat, taken up the cause of the people and helped to open a free course to democratic tendencies. Pericles was supported by Ephialtes, the same who had spoken against the expedition to Ithome, the ill success of which, with the consequent excitement at Athens, operated

powerfully in his favour and that of Pericles. They could venture to propose laws the effect of which was to change fundamentally the relative position of parties. Most of those institutions upon which the authority of the principal families depended had already been dissolved. The Areopagus now shared their fate, its judicial functions, which still remained to attest the magisterial authority of the upper classes, being, with a single and very exceptional reservation, abrogated and transferred to the Heliasa.¹ No one can maintain that a regard for the better administration of justice was the real motive for this change. The Areopagus, whose immemorial privileges possessed the sanction of religion, was the body in which were concentrated the prerogatives of the principal families. The ordinance of Aristeides, according to which the outgoing archons, even according to the new system of election, became members of the Areopagus, had not produced any material effect. The predominant influence of Kimon secured to the Areopagus a constant and uninterrupted authority. To put an end to this there was but one course open. The Areopagus would have to be divested of the judicial functions, which continued to give it all the authority of a supreme magistracy. The Heliaea, to which those functions, with the exception of an insignificant residuum, were transferred, was the whole Athenian people, under an organisation adapted to the administration of justice. It consisted of 6,000 citizens, chosen by lot for the purpose, who again were divided into ten distinct dicasteries, each of which numbered 500 members, so that 1,000 were left over, to fill up vacancies as they occurred. Actions were brought before the archons as before, but their duty was now limited to laying them before one of the dicasteries of the Heliaea, which found a verdict and gave sentence. In this way by a single stroke the judicial power was wrested from the body which had held it by a traditional right and

¹ In the uncertainty of all chronological data we welcome the statement of Diodorus (xi. 77), that the law against the Areopagus was passed Ol. 80, 1 = 460-459. We may fairly assume that the law by which Kimon was exiled was of earlier date ; cf. Fischer, Kleine Schriften, i. 42 n.

placed in the hands of the people. Here the question forces itself upon us, how far each citizen could have found it possible to reconcile the claims of his daily business with these additional obligations. Pericles and Ephialtes succeeded in securing a small remuneration for the heliasts while actually engaged in their duties. From the comic poets we see that as a rule the older men, who were less engrossed in ordinary avocations, were selected for this purpose. The authority which was to be taken from the Areopagus being of a political as well as a judicial character, an oath was required from the heliasts, by which they bound themselves above all things to favour neither tyranny nor oligarchy, nor in any way to prejudice the sovereignty of the people.¹ Other obligations, affecting the administration of justice, appear in the oath ; but the most important points are those which we have just touched upon, in which we recognise a complete fusion of the political and judicial views therein predominant. Nothing less was intended than that the Areopagus should be altogether deprived of its influence, which was to be bestowed upon a democratic assembly. It must not, however, be imagined that this assembly was democratic in a modern sense.

Pericles and Ephialtes carried out legislative acts by which almost a third of those who had hitherto been citizens were excluded from the citizenship. The citizenship was originally an amalgamation of various distinct elements. The new law provided that each and every one should be excluded from it who did not belong to it by descent at least in the two preceding generations. It has been assumed that the law was purposely so framed as to affect prejudicially by its retrospective action the family of Kimon. Nevertheless it was at the same time one of the greatest political measures

¹ That Demosthenes is in error in ascribing the form of oath to Solon is proved by the fact that the law speaks of the Council of the Five Hundred, which in Solon’s time was not in existence. The wording is characteristic, and itself a proof of genuineness. Meier and Schomann, in their history of Athenian legal procedure {Geschichte des attischen Prozesses), have justly insisted upon the support of this document. A variation in Pollux (Onomasticon) affects only a subordinate issue.

undertaken at this epoch. Whilst the citizens obtained rights which they had never possessed before, their number underwent a most important limitation. It is from this time that we are able to regard the Athenian Demos as a community propagating itself and making its influence felt in the world, without any admixture of alien elements. The commons already derived some benefit from the state. Some were glad to avail themselves of the remuneration bestowed upon the heliasts. Others were kept in good humour by receiving the price of admission to the theatre as a grant from the public treasury. What was more important, for protracted service in the fleet a stated pay was given.¹ The distribution of conquered districts in definite allotments was an especial advantage to the Athenian citizens. Their authority was further increased when the treasury of the naval confederacy was transferred from Delos to Athens, and the disposition of the funds placed in their hands. This is not the place to enquire how far these arrangements harmonise with the normal conception of a state, or whether they were the best adapted to reconcile personal responsibilities with general interests. We are but noting the appearance of a political society, which possessed and exercised power in foreign affairs whilst at the same time maintaining civil equality, to the advantage of each individual. The Demos was a genuine power, controlling other powers and making constant strides to empire. We have seen that in Athens, as elsewhere, democracy was not of natural growth, but owed its origin to the events of the time and the policy of its leading spirits. Yet it is a creation, endowed with an internal energy and holding a position in the world, which together make it a phenomenon of the highest- importance.

¹ This may be inferred with distinctness from the statements of Plutarch (Pericles, c. 11), in which the citizens are designated as eftftio-Bo 1. In Plutarch’s Cimon (c. 11) we are further informed that the pay was taken out of the contributions of the members of the naval confederacy, so that the citizens of Athens exercised control over those at whose expense they received their pay. The statement generally made, that Pericles introduced pay for service on land also, depends upon a passage from a late scholiast on Demosthenes, which cannot be regarded as perfectly satisfactory evidence.

The direction which Athenian tendencies were taking at this time may be gathered from the building of the Long Walls, the principal aim of which was to unite Athens with her seaport, and from the fact that, a short time before, the town of Megara, at the suggestion of Athens, had effected a similar junction. The growth of her maritime connections at that epoch, extending, as we have already remarked, even to the native rulers of Egypt, rendered it desirable to make Athens herself a kind of seaport town. There was, however, another and a paramount motive. The understanding which had hitherto been maintained between the democracy of Athens and the aristocracy of Sparta had been interrupted by the affair of Ithome. The garrison of Ithome had been reduced by the Spartans upon the withdrawal of the Athenian troops, but had so far been supported by Athens that she obtained for them a refuge in the Locrian Naupactus. In Naupactus and its harbour the Athenians secured for themselves one of the most important positions on the western coast. We encounter here what we may call the Fate of Greece. Over and over again we note the after-effects of that campaign of the Heracleidae by which Sparta and her aristocracy were founded. Athens, on the other hand, was the principal locality in which the populations which had not succumbed to the Dorian invasion maintained themselves. The Athenians saw in the Messenians their own kinsmen, and made use of those who had survived the struggle to found a position which seriously menaced the Peloponnesus, and especially Corinth. They had, moreover, dissociated Megara from the Peloponnesian league, and drawn it into the naval confederacy.

The opposition between the democracy, now supreme at Athens, and the aristocracies by which it was surrounded made itself everywhere felt. This was especially the case in Bceotia, where the less powerful towns sided with Athens, while, on the other hand, Thebes was taken into the protection of Sparta. It was when things were in this state of ferment that the Spartans seized the occasion of a dispute between Doris and Phokis to send a considerable force to central

Greece. They successfully disposed of this contest, but, being apprehensive of encountering difficulties in their homeward march, they took up a position in Bceotia and menaced Attica itself. A short time before, they had declined to invade Attica at the suggestion of the Persians ; but that which they were then unwilling to do in the interests of the Great King they were now preparing to do on their own account. It was a step which, taken in conjunction with the complications to which we have referred, did more than paralyse the attacks upon Persia. It imperilled the very existence of democracy at Athens. It was believed that the landowners of Attica, who were generally displeased with the erection of the Long Walls, had come to an understanding with the Lakedaemonians to stay the progress of the works and to abolish the democracy.

The war had not yet broken out, but every one saw it to be imminent. The leading man at Athens, whose policy was menaced by it, was not disposed to await the danger: his plan was to anticipate it by prompt action. That the Athenians had in this another aim as well, and were earnestly resolved to suppress a certain domestic faction, is shown by their conduct towards Kimon, who made his appearance at the very crisis of the struggle, in order to take part in it. His services were rejected by order of the Council of Five Hundred, because he was regarded as a friend to the Lake- dEemonians. And undoubtedly he was what he was called—a Philolakon, that is, he desired the restoration of the old friendly relations with Sparta. Yet he was very far from wishing to force such an alliance upon Attica by means of external pressure. In his enforced inaction he persuaded his friends and dependants to oppose the stoutest resistance to the Lakedaemonians. They sided with Athens when Pericles, with a force very inadequate to the requirements of his enterprise, marched to encounter the Peloponnesians at Tanagra. On his side were ranged the Argives and Thessalians, then confederates of Athens ; but the Thessalian cavalry were the first to desert their place in the field and to pass over to the enemy. The Athenian army was defeated. The adherents of Kimon

carried off the palm of valour, and fell side by side to the number of a hundred (November, B.C. 457)-

The defeat sustained by the Athenians, though severe, was scarcely decisive. Probably, too, the united front presented by Athens left little hope of successful intervention in Attica, and accordingly the Lakedsemonians, after making a few raids in the district of Megara, withdrew to Peloponnesus, leaving their allies, the Boeotians, to themselves. The latter had already, two months after the battle of Tanagra, been defeated by the Athenians at CEnophyta, so that Athens now consolidated her power in. Boeotia for the first time. Her internal dissensions had also ceased. Kimon, relieved from' all suspicion by the conduct of his friends, and regarded by the people with a sort of regretful longing, was again recalled, and attained, if not to his old authority, at any rate to high respect. Once more he threw himself into those warlike enterprises in the eastern Mediterranean which characterise the last years of his career. There even seemed to be some prospect of inducing Lakedsemon to give these efforts a direct support. Pericles, too, was in accord with Kimon in this his principal aim. We hear of his plan of bringing about a Panhellenic association, designed to renew the war against the king of Persia and prosecute it with the utmost vigour. The motive was as before, the duty of avenging on the Persians the outrages committed on Grecian sanctuaries. Delegates from the different tribes were to meet at Athens. We are informed that Pericles sent out four distinct embassies to this end, the most important of which is said to have been that sent to Sparta. There, however, Pericles failed to obtain a hearing, Sparta not having so completely resigned the possession of that hegemony which she had enjoyed in earlier days as to concede to her rival Athens the pre-eminence which this position would have secured her. Sparta might decline to assist the king of Persia against Athens, but could not bring herself to make common cause with Athens against the king.

Without Sparta the war against Persia could not be conducted with the energy which was necessary to ensure the triumph upon which Kimon’s hopes were set The utmost

that could be attained was an armistice between Athens and Sparta, which was actually effected in the year 450. Athens had to adopt this expedient, without which she could not have continued the war against Persia. Even in Sparta the motives to hostility were not urgently felt in the immediate present, especially as long as Kimon was once more powerful and respected at Athens. The relations of war or peace with Sparta, the progress or resumption of the Persian war, the comparative influence of the two states upon the rest of Greece, the growth of the Delian League and its dependence upon Athens, the exile and return of Kimon, the plans of Pericles at this epoch and his personal relations to his great antagonist, are matters closely connected together and mutually dependent. They form a particoloured web, in which various efforts and tendencies, each with its own local characteristics, are combined. The armistice with Sparta was indispensable to the campaigns of Kimon. But a great change inevitably took place when Kimon perished in the course of the war, and that peace was concluded by which a period was put to the enterprises of the Persians against the Greeks, and to those of the Athenians against the Persians.

The life of Pericles entered, we may say, upon a new phase when the great rival with whom he had so often contended and been reconciled was no more. Delivered from his opposition, and, at the same time, from the dangers of a war with Persia, he was able to indulge without impediment the design of bringing to an issue the struggle with Sparta. The occasion was this time afforded by a question which affected the whole Grecian world.

As was the case in later days with the great hierarchical power of the West, it was indispensable to the satisfactory discharge of those semi-religious, semi-political functions which belonged to the Delphic oracle, that sanctuary and priesthood should alike be free from the territorial sovereignty of any foreign power. In the utterances of the oracle

no deference was to be paid to the influence of a dominant state ; it was to be itself of paramount authority. But the Athenians were of opinion that the priesthood, unable to dissociate itself entirely from human tendencies, was biassed in favour of Sparta, and therefore they raised no objection when the Phokians made themselves masters of the sacred district. This step, however, roused the Lakedse- monians to sympathetic efforts in defence of the sanctuary; they sent a military force which restored it to its independence of the Phokians. At the same time they secured for themselves the promanteia, or the right of precedence in consulting the oracle, and caused the decree made on the subject to be engraved upon the forehead of the brazen wolf, a votive offering of the Delphians themselves which stood by the great altar. In this transaction Athens discovered a grievance. Without designing to break by the step the armistice which was still maintained, Pericles nevertheless marched in his turn to Delphi, restored the territorial supremacy of the Phokians, and caused the right of precedence to be assigned to the Athenians, and the decree to that effect to be engraved upon the right side of the brazen wolf.

It was a question of honour between the two leading states. The ambition of Athens was satisfied by the new inscription, but the Spartans were in the highest degree annoyed by the whole proceeding. The understanding which had prevailed for some years was dissolved, yet some such understanding was essential to the maintenance of the general tranquillity. The old variances, so recently suspended, at once broke out anew. First of all, in Boeotia the party lately subdued by the Athenians rose once more. The Athenians immediately interfered with an armed force in favour of their own partisans, but were this time defeated at Coroneia (B.C. 447). This was the signal for a general movement against the power of Athens. The party in Locris and in Euboea which was hostile to the Athenians had taken part in the battle, and the victory procured it the ascendency in both places. Athens could not prevent the restoration of the old autonomy in Boeotia, and when

Pericles turned to, Eubcea, in order here at any rate to maintain that supremacy which was most essential to the maritime power of Athens, he had to submit to see Megara, at the instigation of her kinsmen the Corinthians, revolt from Athens and join the Peloponnesian confederacy.

A crisis occurred on the invasion of a Spartan army, under Pleistoanax, one of the two kings. Pericles earned the gratitude of his countrymen by inducing in some way or other the Spartans to retire.¹ The Athenians succeeded in subduing Eubcea and settling it according to their pleasure. Yet upon the mainland they continued to be at a very great disadvantage. The Peloponnesian league had acquired fresh strength, and the Athenians saw themselves compelled to give up their possessions in Peloponnesus, especially Achaia, as well as Trcezene and Pagae, an important position for their communication with the peninsula. Even Nisaea was abandoned. Yet these losses, sensibly as they affected their influence upon the Grecian continent, were counterbalanced by a concession still more significant, the acknowledgment of the Delian League. It was left open to states and cities which were members of neither confederacy to join either at pleasure.

These events happened in Ol. 83, 3 (445)—the revolt of Megara and Eubcea, the invasion of Pleistoanax, the reconquest of Eubcea, and the conclusion of the treaty, which assumed the form of an armistice for thirty years. Great importance must be attributed to this settlement, as involving an acknowledgment which satisfied both parties and did justice to the great interests at stake on either side. If Athens renounced

¹ I purposely abstain from repeating the statement that Pericles bribed the Spartan king himself, or Cleandridas, whom the Ephors associated with him. This was the conclusion arrived at in Sparta from an assertion of Pericles about the expenditure of a certain sum of money. So we see from a fragment of Ephorus (fragm. 118 in Hist. Grtrc. fragm. ed. Muller, i. p. 266). Thukydides mentions the matter three times. In the place in his narrative to which it properly belongs he says not a word of the alleged bribery ; in the two other passages he tells us that Pleistoanax incurred the suspicion of having taken a bribe (ii. 21, 7] tpvy)} avT$ tyevero ^ffctprris 86£avri XP^!f^{iafTi T}^i^v kv<*X^u!P'^l)^{riv> ^c^* ^v‘

16). If he had regarded the charge as true, he would no doubt have adopted it in his history. Plutarch, however, with his invariable propensity to anecdote, does not hesitate to adopt it in his Life of Pericles as an indisputable fact (c. 22).

some of her possessions, the sacrifice was compensated by the fact that Sparta recognised the existence of the naval supremacy of Athens, and the basis on which it rested. We may perhaps assume that the compromise between Pericles and Pleistoanax was the result of the conviction felt by both these leading men that a fundamental dissociation of the Peloponnesian from the Delian league was a matter of necessity. The Spartans wished to be absolutely supreme in the one, and resigned the other to the Athenians. There can be no doubt that Pericles was fully aware of what he gave up and what he gained in the transaction. After succeeding not only in rescuing Athens from a great peril, but in promoting her most essential interests, he obtained thenceforth a more unlimited control over public affairs. At the head of an intelligent, restless, and enterprising Demos, requiring at once to be guided and to be kept in good humour, he assumed a great position, which well repays the study of the historian.

Pericles, the son of the victor of Mycale and of Agariste, the niece of that Cleisthenes who obtained for the democracy its preponderance at Athens, was thus by birth the inheritor of both tendencies— the tendency to develop the foreign power of Athens and the tendency to perfect her internal organisation. He had taken no share himself in the great Persian wars ; he had not helped to fight out the great battle for life or death: he came first upon the scene when the relative positions of both parties in the struggle were finally adjusted. For the place which he assumed as head and leader of the Demos he was admirably adapted by education and training His earliest training, one in thorough conformity with Greek conceptions, he received through a practised teacher, of whom, however, it was said that his mind was wholly set upon the art of eloquence after the model of the Sicilian school, which was also in vogue at Athens, in which politics and rhetoric were combined. It is perhaps still more important to note that philosophers found a hearing at Athens, and were especially welcome guests in the house of Pericles. The ruling spirit in this society was Anaxagoras, of whom

we shall have to speak later on. If we were called upon to give prominence to one of his views as exercising a greater immediate influence than the rest, we should select his doctrine that those phenomena which filled other men with apprehension for the future are to be conceived as natural occurrences, on the score of which there was nothing to be feared. One who thus attached himself to the philosophers must obviously have been raised, in the formation of his designs and the whole conduct of life, far above others who were still encumbered by deisidaimonia, or the traditional superstition associated with unusual phenomena. Such a man was able always to keep a single eye to the business in hand.

It was repeatedly affirmed in ancient times that Pericles originally had oligarchical leanings, that he avoided personal competition and endeavoured to distinguish himself in war, but that as soon as he began to take a part in public affairs, and found himself confronted by an aristocratic faction, he became aware that he could only attain to importance by securing the support of the people. We have already seen how unreservedly he took this course, and how, in conjunction with Ephialtes, he may be said to have been the true founder of the Demos as an independent power. Ephialtes in the meantime had been assassinated, it did not distinctly appear by whom ; but, if the act was intended as a death-blow to democracy, it had rather the opposite effect. Pericles rose through it to still greater influence. In his personal bearing Kimon had a vein of popularity which was wanting in Pericles. The latter is charged with haughtiness, and, though he was really exempt from this fault, his character contained the analogous element of a proud reserve. Elevated as he was above trivialities of every kind, he preferred to remain a stranger to the ordinary relations of social life. Pericles took no other walk than that from his own house to the assembly in which he spoke. He moved sedately, and is said to have prayed that no unseasonable word might ever escape his lips. From the fact that this is related of him we may perhaps conclude that he really attained to the perfection he

desired.¹ He never displayed emotion, and even insults were powerless to excite him.

We must bear in mind the influences which acted upon the Demos of Athens—a stage unrivalled in any age of the world, a plastic art no less magnificent, and the impetus which culture in its upward efforts never fails to impart to the minds of men. Much was required in order to guide, still more to control, as Pericles did, an assembly of this kind. As Thukydides says, he did not follow the multitude, the multitude followed him ; he did not flatter the many, but often took a line which brought him into collision with public opinion ; he inspired courage when men were inclined to fear, and when the people betrayed a presumptuous self-confidence likely to be detrimental, he emphasised all the dangers to which such conduct might lead. The people possessed the power to decide, but Pericles was able so to guide the assembly that the power of the people was but the basis of his own authority. Every one recognised that he sought nothing for himself, but made the greatness and well-being of Athens his sole end and aim. Under him the democracy acquired almost a monarchical character ; the city was ruled by its first citizen. We have a bust of Pericles, a work of antiquity, of which the full face seems to wear an expression of dignity and energy, whilst the profile indicates a flexible and even designing character. Whilst he directed the general business of the state he had to use every means in order to keep down his opponents. They were aristocrats who were still attached to Sparta ; with these he fought many a battle ; but he had the Demos upon his side. He succeeded in removing his antagonists by ostracism, and in the course of these encounters he acquired a most unusual degree of power. He gathered in his own hands the substance of administrative authority, for he was president of the Strategi, and with this office was associated the duty of providing for the tran

¹ The principal evidence is that of Stesimbrotus, whose statements Plutarch has combined with some expressions from the comic poets. Such passages are even now read with pleasure. W. A. Schmidt (Das perikleische Zeitalter, ii. p. 9) reckons Stesimbrotus among the primary authorities for the epoch.

quillity of the- city. To him was committed the care of the public festivals and, most important of all, the disposition of the finances. Possessed of this authority—an authority sufficient to determine the policy of the state—Pericles, instead of attempting to recover by direct aggression, which would probably have been fruitless, the ground he had lost, made it his object not only to maintain the maritime supremacy of Athens, which the last armistice had confirmed, but to develop it into a power which should no longer be compelled to take account of the Peloponnesians.

The island of Samos, to which belonged the glory of having been the earliest naval power of importance amongst the Hellenes, refused to submit to the leadership of Athens. The treasury of Delos had now been transferred to that city, and she exercised a sensible constraint over the internal affairs of the members of the league. But even in her foreign relations, for instance with Miletus, Samos would suffer no interference. Things came to such a pass that the Samians, who still retained an oligarchical constitution, made an alliance with the satrap of Sardis, which enabled them to look forward to the support of a Phoenician fleet. Pericles, who had just made preparations to besiege Samos, considered it necessary at all hazards to forestall the interference of the Phoenicians. But whilst he diverted his attention to Caria, in order to encounter the Phoenicians when they should approach, the Samians succeeded in attacking and destroying his siege works. He was compelled to return to Samos, where, in consequence of the arrival of succours from Athens, and through the assistance of adherents in the island itself, he succeeded in completely overmastering the Samians and compelling them to submit to Athens (b.c. 440). There was no further motive for the despatch of a Phoenician fleet, and accordingly we hear no more of it. It is very probable that the Persians recalled to mind the compromise which had been effected a few years before. They were unwilling to take a course which would give the pretender in Egypt, who still held his ground, the assistance of a Grecian fleet. The fact that the oligarchical party in Samos

endeavoured to support itself in its resistance to Athens by calling in the aid of Persia, lent to the democracy of Athens a Panhellenic colouring, which became it well, while the subjugation of that island gave Attica a more decisive ascendency over the league than she had ever before possessed.

Pericles had instituted experimental cruises once a year, each squadron consisting of sixty ships, which were eight months at sea ; and for this the citizens who served on board received pay. In this way, however, the fact was made strikingly apparent that the money of the confederates was used by Athens to maintain the fleet by which she kept the league under her control. Pericles regarded it as absolutely necessary that the maritime forces should be ready for service at any moment Fresh attention was also bestowed upon the improvement of the siege train, already a point in which Athenian strategy excelled. Pericles himself was famous as the inventor of the ram and the testudo, although perhaps Artemon had most to do with their invention. This also must have contributed towards keeping the members of the league in a state of subjection.

The principal grievance of the confederates, that the money which they had collected in order to maintain a common cause was arbitrarily expended at Athens, had found an echo in Athens itself, where there was always more or less a party of opposition. Pericles replied that Athens was under an obligation to protect the members of the league ; provided she fulfilled this duty, it was quite within her province to dispose of their contributions at her pleasure. This disposal of public moneys in the interest of a single nationality dominant over the rest was something new in the world. We still possess a monument of this epoch in the ruins of the buildings raised by Pericles, which still enthral the admiration of mankind. In the era of Pericles the art of sculpture seems to have reached its climax. The annals of the Parthenon, which Pericles erected, and against which the waves of eventful fortune have continued to break from century to century even to the most recent times, are a familiar tale: even the deportation of its still surviving fragments is part of that chain of events which

links together East and West. Let us endeavour to grasp the historical conditions under which that splendid edifice was raised.

The sanctuaries of the citadel of Athens, destroyed by the Persians, had already been restored. Pericles chose for the erection of an additional temple a site which the Peisistratidse had already designed for that purpose, the still vacant area of the Hecatompedon. From this elevation the view extends from the marble hills of Attica over shore and sea as far as ^Egina. Here a sanctuary was constructed, designed not so much for worship in the strictest sense as for festal processions, and with a very practical and even political object as well. This object was the custody of the public treasure, which was then more considerable than ever before or afterwards; it amounted to 10,000 talents, a very large part of which, about three fifths, had been contributed by the members of the league. This sum, whether of coined money or not, was intended, as Pericles himself once announced, for prospective warlike enterprises oh a large scale, and formed a reserve fund on which Athens, should she find herself embarrassed, might depend. The control of the treasury was confided to a number of Athenian citizens ; the money itself, however, was, as more than one inscription testifies, kept in the opisthodomos of the Parthenon. In the cella were votive offerings of great value, and at the entrance stood the colossal image of the goddess, emblematic of the power and spirit and the self-reliance of Athens. The statue of Athene was chryselephantine, and proceeded, like the Olympian Zeus, from the hand of Pheidias. In one hand she bore a Nike, adorned with garlands, the symbol of those victories to which all was due ; on the other side were seen the spear and shield, whilst on her breast was the aegis with the Gorgon’s head. Bold indeed would have been the hand that approached her sacrilegiously.¹

¹ Thus Pausanias describes the statue which he saw. Yet it is very noteworthy that in the statuette which is almost universally acknowledged to be the best copy of the original, and which was found by my lamented friend Lenormant, segis, spear, and shield are wanting. But this is but one among a thousand

Even into the great affairs of state there entered a personal element. The honours paid to the victories over the Persians magnified at the same time the names of Miltiades and of Kimon, and here in like manner the likeness of Pericles was figured upon the shield of the goddess. It might be said that in this monument the whole administration of Pericles was imaged, first the great place in the world which he had won for Athens, next her maritime preponderance—for the members of the league were the servants of the powerful capital and had no voice even in the disposal of their own money. The same feeling is expressed in the other structures of Pericles. Such, for example, was that theatre upon the promontory of Sunium which had for its spectacle the manoeuvres of the triremes and commanded a view of the Kyklades. Such above all was Peirseus, the port of Athens, with its spacious squares, its broad streets intersecting one another at right angles, and its separate harbours for the warlike and the mercantile marine, which have served as the model of all similar structures in later times. In one of these harbours was concentrated the power, in the other the wealth, of Athens in the days of Pericles.

In the Acropolis the ancient sanctuaries of the city were, so to speak, shut off from the rest by a row of Caryatides. Stately rows of columns served at once to unite and to separate the upper and the lower city. These were the Propylsea, the type of which has formed a model for all succeeding efforts of art. In the lower city Pericles established places of exercise for the future manhood of the state, in the old Lyceum, as well as in the gardens of the Academy, which, refreshed by the waters of the Ilissus, recovered their rural aspect. The Gymnasium, the Lyceum, the Academy, are names the mere mention of which enables us to recognise how precious to posterity are these institutions, designed alike for the improvement of the body and of the mind, and serving, so to speak, as types in the history of culture. Whether we admire the policy of Pericles or not, the spiritual

doubtful points connected with the whole subject, as may be seen from the work of Michaelis on the Parthenon.

energy with which he gave life to the happy inventions of his creative genius has raised up for him an enduring monument in the history of our race.¹

In the execution of his buildings Pericles was assisted by a number of men of tried or rising aiblity, over whom Pheidias exercised a certain superintendence. It may with good reason be asserted that Pericles in undertaking these works had also social and political ends in view. He designed that the lowest class of citizens, which scarcely took any part in the maritime expeditions and warlike enterprises, should yet derive some benefit from the state. He gave employment to manual labour, such employment indeed that the whole artisan class, whose assistance was invited by those immediately concerned in the buildings, found adequate occupation. No one was to be idle or dilatory ; every one was to have the means of subsistence. The buildings rose with a rapidity which astonished the world.² Athens became a city in the true sense of the word, whilst the other Greek sites remained villages—the first city in the West, and in the world.

The works of art which Pericles called into existence were of a religious nature, and the goddess to whose glory they were dedicated was the object of universal adoration. But for that protection of philosophy to which we have already referred the powerful statesman had special and personal motives. In the position which he held it was an advantage to him that he was an Alcmseonid ; for nothing is more captivating to the popular mind than the union of personal merit, high birth, and popular aims. In the case of Pericles, however, the advantage had its darker side. The destiny of the Alcmseonidse was closely linked with a trespass against the gods who guarded the rights of asylum, a trespass for which they had been forced to pay a heavy penalty. The purification which Epimenides had made had by no means sufficed to efface the memory of the deed. It was brought

¹ The description of Attica and Athens as they were at this epoch may be read with pleasure in Curtius, Gr. Gesch. ii. 326 sq.

up once more against Pericles himself. The Lakedaemonians, who saw in him their most prominent enemy, upon one occasion called upon the Athenians to banish him as one upon whom a stain rested. Nevertheless we are told that the denunciation, as coming from the enemy, made but little impression upon the people of Athens. Yet the Lakedaemonians had an unbroken succession of sympathisers in Athens, and we may perhaps assume that in this vulnerable side of his position lay one motive for his attachment to the philosophers, and especially to Anaxagoras, whose teaching included a rational principle, which gave no encouragement to accusations of this kind.

To a similar motive maybe traced the reproaches levelled at his friend Aspasia, who, not being an Athenian, could not be legally married to him, but who lived with him as his wife. She was what was called a sophistria, with none of the prejudices which limited the horizon of the Greek women generally, and she fascinated him not only by her beauty but by her genius and the charms of her conversation. She was accused not only of encouraging various domestic irregularities, but also of want of reverence for the gods : she is said to have distinguished the women of her household by the names of the Muses. Pheidias incurred a similar suspicion by tracing on the shield of Athene the figures of Pericles and of himself. This combination of popular absolutism with a philosophic divergence from the popular belief provoked a reaction which at times proved embarrassing.

No one would be inclined to deny the general statement that subordinate motives of a personal character have at times exerted an influence in affairs of the greatest compass. But the situation which we are now to consider cannot be explained by such motives. The policy which Athens had followed during the years immediately preceding the time we have arrived at led inevitably to a breach with Sparta. There were, in particular, two questions at issue which tended to this result.

Pericles and the Athenian people, not content with the dominion of the eastern Mediterranean, had always kept an

eye upon the West. As they had colonised Sinope, on the Black Sea, so they planted colonies of Ionian descent in Italy, as, for example, at Thurii, and they took part in the foundation of Naples. In the West, however, the Dorian colonies, especially those from Corinth, were in the ascendant, and it was not possible to wrest anything from them as long as they remained united. Accordingly, the rupture which took place between Korkyra, the principal Corinthian colony, and the mother city, must have been a welcome event to the Athenians. A war ensued in which the Korkyrasans, just at the crisis when they were in danger of being overpowered, received support and deliverance from Athens. The Athenians had more immediate cause to be jealous of Corinth than of Sparta. Their precarious relations with Megara were due to Corinth, and at this juncture another conflict of interests arose in the neighbourhood of the Thracian possessions of Athens. Here Athens had drawn into her league towns which were Corinthian colonies, and which still maintained various relations with their mother city. This was especially the case with Potidasa ; and whilst Athens would not tolerate this intercourse, Potidaea, true to a venerable tradition, would not desist from it. The latter received support in this quarrel from the king of Makedonia, who saw with reluctance the growth of the Athenian power in his immediate neighbourhood. It was of the utmost importance to Athens to maintain against this powerful king her colonies in the North, and the maritime preponderance which their possession helped to secure. Kimon had been blamed for not inflicting, when the opportunity presented itself, a crushing blow on the kingdom of Makedonia. When we reflect what consequences arose at a later time from the relations with Makedonia, we cannot shut our eyes to the fact that an interest which intimately concerned the whole Hellenic world was here in question. The power of the Athenians in the North formed a common bulwark for all alike. But the requirements of foreign policy are very often found irreconcilable with the conditions of internal tranquillity. It cannot be doubted that the conduct of the

Athenians in interfering in the disputes between a metropolis and one of her colonies, and in trying to sever the ties by which another was still attached to her, did violence to the fundamental ideas of the old Hellenic world, and was only too well adapted to rouse lasting enmity against them. The Athenians could not perhaps avoid this, since their power in the West and North brought them into conflict with Corinth. If Athens was to strengthen her power in the North, or extend it in the West, a struggle with Corinth was inevitable. Such a struggle, however, could not fail to bring into the com- pletest relief the old opposition between Athens and Sparta. Both in Potidsea and in Korkyra, Athens encountered that Dorian element which had its chief support in the power of Lakedaemon. The Lakedaemonians hesitated for a while, but presently made demands, especially one for the autonomy of all Greek cities, with which Athens could not have complied without renouncing her whole system. Pericles, in spite of this protest, boldly determined to continue his course. The question was not whether he should undertake the war, but whether he could avoid it. Pericles would not abandon the policy he had hitherto pursued, even at the risk of war with Sparta. In the speech to the people which is ascribed to him, special prominence is given to the advantage which naval forces have over land forces in open warfare. The naval power of Athens was, in fact, the mainspring of every public act, and the democratic people followed implicitly the line of thought taken by its leader. The way in which the Spartans viewed the matter is clear from the declaration of one of the Ephors that they could not allow the Athenians to become any greater, or see the members of the league sacrificed to their ambition.

We may, perhaps, at this point recall to mind the last accommodation, by which the power of Athens was checked upon the mainland and directed towards the sea. On the latter element Athens had now become so strong that she could not have endured any subordination to Sparta, such as would have been implied in her giving way to the allies of Sparta in the North and West. Thus the Delian League

was, so to speak, encroaching upon the province of the Peloponnesian. On the other hand, the Spartans made demands— such, for example, as that for the abrogation of a decree made to prevent the commerce of the Megarians in Attica— which galled the proud independence of a free community. At this time also the Thebans, who were allies of Sparta, made in the immediate neighbourhood of Athens an attempt to master Plataea, an ally of Athens, which led to proceedings of extraordinary violence.¹ Thus the war became inevitable.

The Lakedasmonians, under their king, Archidamus, took the field. An emissary was sent by them on purpose to ascertain whether, now that the war was really imminent, the Athenians were not alarmed, and accessible to peaceful suggestions. But the Athenians sent him back without so much as hearing him, and refused to accept any proposals from an enemy in the field. Pericles, to whose influence this resolution may be traced, had already made preparations such as he thought would enable him to brave without anxiety an invasion of the enemy. Never was the authority of a leading citizen, who still remained but a citizen like the rest, more signally displayed. His intention was to limit the defence to the city and a few strong places ; the open country he resigned unreservedly to the enemy. In the country the old independent life of its different inhabitants, which had been interrupted some centuries before by the union of all in one city, was not yet forgotten ; after the devastation of the Persian wars the proprietors had established themselves again, and loved to spend their days upon their estates. By the ordinance passed at the instance of Pericles, through which they were one and all compelled to abandon house and home, and to withdraw into the city, they were touched in the most sensitive point. Nevertheless they acquiesced ; many even broke away the woodwork of their houses, and took it with them within the walls. In their

¹ From this event the breaking out of the Peloponnesian war is dated; in fact, Thukydides himself makes this the starting point (ii. c. i ad in.) According to the calculations of Bockh (Zur Geschichte der Mondcyclen, p. 78sq.)the surprise of Plataea took place in the beginning of April 431 (Ol. 87, 1).

search for places in which to establish themselves, they were directed to whatever open spaces still remained, or to the temples and shrines which were made over to them. Their discomfort increased their ill-humour, which reached its climax when the Lakedsemonians burst into Attica, and the population pent within the walls saw their property ravaged almost before their eyes, without being allowed to employ their arms in self-defence. It was part of the design of Pericles to avoid a battle in the open field ; only the strong places and fortresses were to be held : the real battle was to be fought on the sea. The idea which had been ascribed to Themistocles was thus realised in its fullest extent, although under circumstances very different to those originally contemplated. For Themistocles had combated the national enemy, who menaced the country with perpetual bondage. The Lakedsemonians only wished to prevent the predominance of Athens, and to maintain the balance of power. Yet the consequence was now, no less than then, that the open country was laid waste far and wide. Pericles designed to retaliate for the ravages committed in Attica by ravages in Laconia ; the Lakedsemonians, however, were able to send timely assistance to defend the places menaced, and as yet the descents made by the Athenians were affairs of no great moment.

There was, however, another action of theirs which augured hostilities of the severest character. Amid the confusions occasioned by the accession of Megara to the Athenian league and the alliance formed in consequence between Corinth, Epidaurus, and y£gina, the Athenians had succeeded in getting possession of y£gina itself, and the island was compelled to give up its fleet and to acknowledge the supremacy of Athens. The Spartans, being at that time at peace with Athens, had not interfered. But when the war broke out, ^Egina, as being situated between the regions in which the rival powers were respectively supreme, became the natural object of their mutual jealousy. Sparta demanded the liberation of ^Egina ; Athens ascribed the hostility of Sparta to the instigation of the discontented ^Eginetans.

On the outbreak of war she resolved to render the island incapable of any resistance, and not merely to subdue it— that, indeed, she had already done—but to appropriate it entirely. It was as if the old antagonism between Dorians and Ionians were here reappearing, with no attempt at disguise. The ^Eginetans, who were of Dorian stock, were expelled, with their wives and children, from their possessions, which were divided among Athenian kleruchs, who were regarded as Ionians by descent. Some of the exiles found an asylum in Spartan territory, such as the Athenians had on a former occasion provided for the Messenians.

Such an event was well adapted to revive the old enmity between Dorians and Ionians, and nothing was to be expected but a long and bitter struggle. The Athenians had never been more powerful ; but, on the other hand, the Lakedaemo- nians were in a condition to maintain the balance against them. The situation of the Athenians involved, indeed, possible perils, but at the same time held out to them magnificent prospects, when they were visited by a misfortune for which no human being could have been prepared. In the second year of the war a pestilent malady broke out, against which no effective remedy could be disc overed, and which demanded innumerable victims. Whole families perished. It is probable that the plague was introduced through the commerce by sea from Ethiopia and Egypt, where, it is said, it had first appeared ; for it manifested itself first in the port of Athens. But it cannot be doubted that the gathering of the population in the capital under the circumstances we have already mentioned—circumstances so pernicious to physical well-being—■ contributed much to the intensity and to the spread of the disease. The disease, if originally due to other causes, was able to attack a closely packed population with disastrous effect. An oracle was quoted, according to which a curse had been laid upon any attempt to build in certain quarters remote from the centre of the city. Thukydides observes that the misfortune arose, not from the curse, but from the circumstances which rendered building in these regions a necessity. The pestilence at that time broke out only in

populous places, and the Peloponnesus, where everything continued under the old and familiar conditions, was unassailed by it. At the very moment when it broke out in Athens, Archidamus and his army had once more advanced into Attica. In consequence of the fresh immigration, especially of the humbler classes, which was thus occasioned, the pestilence increased in severity, and the Spartans found no real opposition. But the smoke which rose from the cremation of the dead in the city reminded them that they might themselves catch the infection, and they withdrew without delay. Meanwhile the sickness, which seemed to be in alliance with the Spartans, appeared in the Athenian fleet as well. The fleet had again attempted descents, in which it had succeeded better than in the previous year, and had done considerable damage. The spectacle of two powers, which, if united, might have achieved a world-wide influence, tearing each other to pieces in this furious and hopeless struggle, is indeed a fearful one to contemplate.

The situation of Pericles in Athens itself grew daily more difficult. In consequence of the devastation of the country and of the pestilence he lost the good-will of the people, ready, as usual, to attribute every calamity to its leaders. Scarcely, however, had he recovered his authority when the pestilence, now almost extinct, seized him and carried him off (circ. Sept. 429 B.C.)

Pericles is one of those leaders of aristocratic origin who, having placed themselves at the head of the people, have roused them to the kind of life proper to democracy. He cannot be compared to Aristeides, or even to Solon. He had not the moral purity of impulse by which these were guided. He followed completely in the footsteps of his great uncle Cleisthenes. Cleisthenes was the proper founder of the Demos, and Pericles made the Demos master of the whole body politic, and so perfected its organisation that the possibility of reviving the aristocratic principle seemed almost out of the question. The aim which prompted all his acts was the development of the power of Athens. This end the democracy itself was adapted to further, inasmuch as there

were democratic movements taking place in every part of Greece, which now sought support in Athens. At the same time, however, Pericles made the authority of Athens over the maritime league so strong as to overbear all resistance. He prevented the formation of any connections with Persia among the members of the league, and suppressed by force of arms the attempt made by the most important among the islands to assume an independent position.

The greatness of the city was founded upon her influence as a democracy and as a maritime power. In each of these directions Pericles came in conflict with Sparta, not to speak of the antagonism which he inherited as an Alcmseonid. He was well aware that he was not a match for the power of the Peloponnesians on land, but, in order not to succumb to it at the first onset, he had recourse to a method which, however heroic in itself, was destined to be fatal to himself and to Athens. It would, no doubt, have been possible, whilst sacrificing the open country to ths inroads of the Peloponnesians, to maintain and even to strengthen the substantial power of Athens, and thus to establish her maritime preponderance on a secure basis ; while the enemy’s attacks by land would have to be gradually abandoned, had they led to no result. It was a tragic fatality which, as we have seen, frustrated these anticipations by the intervention of natural forces against which no foresight could have provided. That pestilence broke out which is known to every reader through the incomparable description of Thukydides. It crippled for ever the efforts of Athens, and brought the life of Pericles to an end in the full tide of his active career. To what goal he would have guided Athens few would be bold enough to conjecture. However vast his enterprises, ideal aims and the sense of beauty had the same fascination as ever for his spirit. By one side of his character he was led in promoting art to strengthen religion, by the other in promoting philosophy to clear the way for freedom of scientific enquiry. The result has been that one of the great epochs of culture is designated by his name. If there be earthly immortality, it is this.

The death of Pericles was followed by radical changes in the state. It is a general truth that men of high importance can never be replaced, unless indeed the circumstances could be repeated out of which all that made their position individual has grown. The death of the great leader and first citizen was doubly felt, because he left no successor. Amid all the agitation of democracy Pericles had maintained unimpaired the unity which results from a guiding idea. After his death a general disintegration was inevitable, and the divisions which he had been able to keep in abeyance refused any longer to be postponed.

Among the opponents of Pericles who towards the close of his career struggled against the power with which he was invested, one of the most energetic was Cleon, a man whom the great comic poet of the time has exposed to the derision and contempt of posterity. Cleon was one of the industrial order, and supported himself by a tannery, in which he employed slaves. His business bringing him into contact with those classes which formed the great bulk of the citizens, he shared their sentiments and expressed their views in effective speeches, and thus after the death of Pericles attained predominant influence. He was a man of humble origin, without the education which was then regarded as essential, whether for private or public life. But from the very nature of democracy it was to be expected that a man of this kind might make his influence felt in the vortex of political strife. In Aristophanes Cleon appears as ‘ the heaven-hated tanner,’ the ‘ scandalous bawler,’ the ‘ raker-up of filth,’ with whose rancour all public deliberations and trials are tainted. In one play he is represented as the steward of Demos, who contrives to rule his master and ill-treat all the other slaves. It is one of the acts upon which Aristophanes prides himself, that when no one had sufficient courage to put on the mask of Cleon for the forthcoming representation of this piece at the Lenaean festival, he himself undertook the part, a step by which he

This picture has in later times been regarded as historical; yet I should not venture to give a place in history even to isolated traits from it, so natural was it for comedy to bring upon the stage a caricature adapted to the humours of the time. The representation has no doubt some traits of truth, on which it must have depended for its effectiveness, but its sole support is the inventive malice of the poet. If we wish, I will not say to defend, but to judge of Cleon, we must only try to estimate the share which he really took in the administration of the state; and there we see evidences of a fierce and violent disposition. We must proceed without delay to speak of the conflicts in which he took a prominent part, because they bring into distinctness those relations between Athens and her maritime confederacy which form one of the most important among the motive forces of the time.

Cleon appears as a democratic leader who despised no means by which he might win and secure the favour of the multitude. From him proceeded the increase of the pay of the heliasts to three times its previous amount, a heavy burden to the state, which, however, served to establish in the popular assembly a party absolutely under the control of the demagogue. The nature of his influence may be gathered from his conduct upon the revolt of Lesbos. This revolt implied an attempt to break through the whole system upon which the power of Athens depended. The Lesbians were the most powerful of the allies of Athens in the league, and the least burdened of any, but, as it is expressed in the speech which Thukydides attributes to their ambassadors, it was only mutual fear which maintained even a tolerable understanding between Athens and Lesbos. To the Athenians the considerable naval power possessed by the Lesbians was a source of suspicion and annoyance, whilst the superiority of the Athenians excited in the. Lesbians feelings of anxiety and mistrust, and they were afraid that after being employed to subjugate others they would themselves have to undergo the same fate in their turn. So long as Athens was in full

possession of her overwhelming power they kept quiet. But the Athenians had now been weakened by the various costly enterprises on which they embarked, and more still by the pestilence, whilst at the same time the vicissitudes of the war encouraged the Lesbians to hope for the support of Lake- daemon, to whom they had previously appealed in vain. They began therefore seriously to entertain the idea of opposing the Athenians.

The Athenians heard of the first steps taken in this direction, and hastened to encounter them. On the other hand, the Mytilenseans, who headed the movement in Lesbos, learned what was intended against them, and prepared to secure their own safety. Accordingly, when the Athenians required the Mytilenseans to destroy their fortifications and deliver up their ships, the latter resolved to refuse such a demand (July 428 B.C.) Nor had they much trouble in drawing to their side the Lakedaemonians and the Peloponnesian league. The chief inducement was the hope that all the members of the Delian League would then take the same course, and be enabled to sever their connection with Athens, a blow by which her power would be utterly annihilated. The mere fact that Lesbos abandoned the Athenian league and passed over to the Peloponnesian was in itself a momentous reverse. Yet the consequences were disastrous to Mytilene. The Peloponnesians did indeed send a fleet to sea, but it did not make its appearance in the ./Egean until it was too late. The Athenians, with their wonted promptitude, had brought all their forces to bear upon Mytilene, and had a portion of the inhabitants of the island on their side ; they were chiefly assisted, however, by a democratic movement in the city itself. The constitution of Mytilene was oligarchical, and thus far relations were already established between the city and the Peloponnesians. But in the urgent danger of their investment by the Athenians, who established also some smaller fortifications, from which they pressed the city hard, the Mytilena;ans resolved to arm the populace, and that too with the equipment of heavy-armed troops. Herein they followed the advice of a Lakedaemonian emissary, but the

result quite belied their expectations. Once in possession of these arms, the commons of Mytilene thought they might renounce their allegiance to the ruling families, and, by threatening to desert to the Athenians, they compelled the authorities to conclude a peace with the latter, the conditions of which implied nothing less than a surrender at discretion. The democracy of Athens was in league with the democrats of Mytilene. The popular assembly at Athens, in which Cleon’s voice was at this time paramount, had an opportunity of sitting in judgment upon the men who were doubly their enemies, antagonistic alike to their polity and their power. The first resolution of the Athenians was accordingly such as was to be expected from the rage to which they were transported by the conduct of Mytilene, a rage which the powerful demagogue fanned into a flame.

The principal offenders, nearly a thousand in number, had been sent by the Athenian admiral to Tenedos. The resolution of the assembly was to execute not only these, but with them all the adult Mytilenjeans, and to make their wives and children slaves, in the exercise of that terrible right of war out of which, as we have shown, slaver}- first and principally arose in the East. Cleon insisted upon this, maintaining that the whole bod}- of the people was guilty, not the leaders alone ; that the revolt had taken place without any justification whatever, and must be punished without mercy, in order to deter others who might be inclined to follow this example ; that otherwise the power of Athens, which was derived from the contributions of the members of the league, would be in danger of collapsing. The thing seemed, he said, so obvious that he suspected all who were of a different opinion of having proved accessible to bribes from the Mytilenseans. It was, in fact, Cleon’s intention to exact a revenge of unmitigated severity, which would be effective in proportion to its speedy execution, and would serve to keep the whole league in check. He was so far successful that a ship was despatched to the general in command at Lesbos with directions to carry out the punishment without delay.

But Cleon had not yet disposed of all opposition. On the following day the question was brought once more before the popular assembly, and Diodotus, one of Cleon’s antagonists, rose to give effect to the arguments on the other side. He rejected triumphantly and with dignity the insinuations of Cleon. Adopting the premiss of Cleon, that the naval dominion and the support derived from it must be maintained at any cost, he showed that this end could not be reached by punishing all desertions with death and destruction ; desertions would still take place, and it would be impossible to be always engaged in besieging and overpowering suspected allies, who, when they had nothing but the extreme of vengeance to expect, would be driven to defend themselves to the last drop of their blood. The best policy was to take care of the interests of their allies, and to avoid vexatious interference with them. The speeches both for and against are set side by side in the inimitable account given by the historian of the epoch. Cleon does not deny that the dominion which was exercised was a tyranny; if the Athenians have no just right to it, their duty is, he argues, to give it up and lead quiet lives at home ; if, on the other hand, they think they have a title to empire, they must shrink from no extreme of violence in order to maintain it. Though Diodotus objected that such a course was more likely to imperil than to consolidate their dominion, a doubt may well be entertained whether he could have made much impression by an argument in itself of questionable cogency ; but he adduced another which was well adapted to strike home. In all the cities connected with the league there were two parties, the one aristocratic and averse from the Athenians, the other democratic and inclining to their side. The victory in Lesbos had been due simply to the fact that the commons, so soon as the opportunity was given them, set themselves in opposition to the aristocracy. To execute the decree already passed would have been nothing less than to annihilate the natural allies of Athens. All the democracies which formed part of the league would have been alienated at a single stroke.

So great was the influence of Cleon that the result was still uncertain ; but when the question was put to the vote the resolution of the previous day was rescinded, and another vessel was sent after the one which had already departed with the message, the former being amply furnished with everything needful to enable and to encourage the oarsmen to relieve one another at their work, and thus to secure a rapid passage. The consequence was that the second vessel entered the harbour at the very moment when the Athenian commander was reading the first despatch, which had just reached him, and which was now recalled. The city suffered no further punishment, but the principal offenders, who were then at Tenedos, were executed without exception — a savage revenge, which nevertheless, as we have seen, was by comparison an act of grace. These events took place in the spring of 427 B.C. The main result was that the maritime ascendency of Athens in the archipelago remained unimpaired. A Lakedaemonian fleet which appeared in these waters returned home again, having effected nothing. The celebration of a great festival at Delos was utilised in order to lend a religious sanction to the restored supremacy of Athens.

By land, however, the Peloponnesians maintained their superiority. The reduction of Plataea, which after a long and strenuous resistance fell in the summer of 427 B.C. into the hands of the Thebans, was a sensible loss' to Athens. The victorious Thebans surpassed even the Athenians in atrocity. They had promised the vanquished, on their withdrawal from the town, that their lives should be secure, but when the latter came out they were slaughtered to a man. The Athenian general, Demosthenes, conceived the bold design of interfering in the disputes between Acarnania and ^Etolia, and thus opening for himself a way by land by which he might pass into Boeotia, in order to restore the balance in these parts also (summer of 426 B.C.) His plan, however, was ruined by the instantaneous rising of the ^Etolian districts, the inhabitants of which still clung to a primitive simplicity of life ; and when the fortune of war turned once

more in favour of the Athenians, the Acarnanians thought it their best course to put an end to their disputes with their neighbours by a trace for a hundred years. At a later date the complications between these outlying regions bore with decisive results upon the great events of history ; not so, however, at this time.

On the other hand, the Athenians succeeded in striking a blow in the Peloponnesus itself, which the Lakedaemonians felt most keenly. Almost by mere accident, in the course of a voyage to the western waters, the Athenians, under the command, as before, of Demosthenes, whose views in this matter were, however, not at all approved by the other officers of the fleet, established themselves in the harbour of Pylos, which the Spartans had neglected (June 425 B.C.) Hastily, but with the best success, they erected upon the rugged and precipitous shore a little fortification, which they proceeded to occupy. The pride of the Lakedaemonians was outraged by seeing their hated enemy in possession of a stronghold within their own territory. They hastened at once to expel the intruders, but the Athenians were sufficiently prepared for attack to repel the first attempt to effect a landing, in which the brave Spartan general ^Brasidas was wounded. Soon afterwards the main fleet of the Athenians, on their return from their expedition to the West, entered the harbour, and inflicted upon the Lakedaemonians, who had also brought up their fleet to secure the place, losses which almost amounted to a defeat. The principal incident of the struggle was, however, yet to follow. Into the island of Sphacteria, which lay before the entrance of the harbour, the Lakedas- monians had thrown a division of hoplites, taken partly from their own forces, partly from those of their allies, and this detachment, severed from the rest by the Athenian fleet which was now master of the sea, seemed irrevocably doomed to the terrible fate with which in these times the victor was accustomed to visit his vanquished enemy.

In Lakedaemon their peril excited the greatest commotion, especially since many of those who were shut up in the island belonged to the most influential families in the land.

The Spartans resolved to make proposals for peace at Athens, and an arrangement was made with the Athenian generals that, until these proposals were accepted or rejected, hostilities in the harbour of Pylos and upon the island should be suspended. A Lakedaemonian embassy was sent to offer the Athenians not merely peace and friendship, but an alliance, if they would but let the troops upon the island go free. It was represented to the Athenians how unwise it was to add private and inexpiable enmities to the public causes of quarrel, and how well the opportunity might be improved in restoring peace to both republics and to the Greeks at large. But the leading demagogue explained to them that they had a prize in their hands, for the redemption of which they might exact far more than this, and he was not contented with that restitution of the status quo, which was all that the offer of the Lakedae- monians implied. He thought that they might be brought to give back once more the places which Pericles had resigned to them on the conclusion of the thirty years’ truce. These places, however, had either been reinstated in their old independence or restored to their former possessors. The whole arrangement had been a compromise by which the Athenians had received great compensating advantages.

The Lakedaemonian ambassadors, confounded by such extravagant claims, suggested the appointment of a commission with which they, might quietly discuss points of detail. But their proposal excited the most violent opposition on the part of Cleon, who would not hear of any negotiations except such as were conducted in the presence of the whole people, where, as he knew, the decision would depend upon himself. Whatever else we may think of Cleon, he must be admitted to have played an important part in history ; it was through him that, at a moment exceptionally favourable for the termination of a war which had ceased to have any true raison d’etre, the negotiations for peace were broken off. We may distinguish two classes of politicians—those who have the present situation, and the gains it immediately offers, exclusively in view ; and those who take account of consequences and of the danger of provoking a general resistance which

may in the end prove overwhelming. It was to the former class that the high-handed and tempestuous demagogue of Athens belonged. He was simply concerned to profit to the utmost by the advantage of the moment, as the best means of attracting a majority of voices in his favour. The notion that the war, if it were resumed, might have an unfortunate issue for Athens, never once occurred to him, and it was not in his nature to take account of the wider interests of the whole Grecian world.

In spite of the numerous follies of which he was guilty, he was favoured by fortune. He was himself instrumental, little as he desired it, in bringing about his own nomination as general, with the commission to capture Sphacteria, the blockade of which was attended with many inconveniences. A mere accident, the result of carelessness, had set fire to the wood which covered the island and made attack difficult. This accident, and the preparations which Demosthenes thereupon made for an immediate occupation, were advantages by which the new general so profited that the beleaguered Spartiatse, attacked with much skill by a superior force, were at last really compelled to yield themselves prisoners (end of summer 425 B.C.) The number of the survivors amounted to about 300, the rest having succumbed to the fierce and impetuous assault. Cleon brought them in triumph to Athens. The Spartans then renewed their proposals for peace, which, however, led to no result, the demands of the Athenians becoming more and more extravagant. One evidence, amongst others, of the determination of the Demos to prosecute the war with might and main is found in the increase of the tax imposed upon the members of the league in the archonship of Stratocles, in which the conquest of Sphacteria took place. It was raised to an amount sometimes a little more, sometimes a little less, than double the contribution hitherto exacted.

The Athenians had, to begin with, an advantage which we can scarcely overestimate, in having the prisoners from Sphacteria in their hands. How absolutely they were determined to make the utmost use of this advantage may be

inferred from their resolve to slay their prisoners upon the first attempt of the Lakedaemonians to invade Attica anew. As the invasions were in fact discontinued, the Athenians were enabled, by the tribute received from the members of the league, to throw themselves with increasing energy into the war, and were repaid by conspicuous successes, principally in places where the democracy assisted them by rising against a dominant aristocracy. In this way they became masters of Korkyra (425 B.C.) and of Kythera (424 B.C.), while elsewhere too, in places on the sea coast, they obtained advantages. Yet they still failed in enterprises on a large scale, as in those, for example, against Corinth and Thebes. At Tanagra they suffered a defeat at the hands of the Boeotians (end of 424 B.C.) At length, too, the Spartans roused themselves again to open hostilities ; and, without directly attacking Attica, they took a course which perhaps was more effectual, by turning their arms against the possessions of Athens in the north.

Their design in this was the same as that which had already given occasion to the episode of Lesbos : it was to dissociate from the Athenians the members of their league. The attempt had failed by sea, and was now made by land. Potidaea, indeed, after a siege of two years’ duration, had been compelled to yield, and had submitted once more to the Athenians. These regions, however, were in a perpetual state of ferment. By one section of the population, which had already begun to revolt, the assistance of the Lakedaemonians had been invited ; and another section, without any thought of insurrection, yet hoped to obtain a more independent position by drawing closer to Lakedaemon. Moreover, it was well known that King Perdiccas of Makedonia cherished a grudge against the Athenians for the affronts he had received from them when he first ascended the throne, and was anxious to obtain support from Lakedaemon both against them and against other enemies on his frontier. To Lakedaemon, molested by the Athenians both from Pylos and from Kythera, and even imperilled by her insecure hold upon the helots, who were inclined to join the enemy, it was in

itself a matter of great concern to excite hostilities in other quarters against her restless and indefatigable opponents.

Accordingly Brasidas betook himself to Thrace, not, however, without encountering many difficulties in his march through Thessaly. His design was to convert the allies of Athens into allies of Sparta. He purposed to abstain from interference in the internal disputes of the cities, and especially to avoid favouring the aristocracy at the expense of the democracy. The ruling powers in Lakedsemon had assured him most solemnly that they would leave unimpaired the freedom of the communities which passed over to their side. Accordingly Brasidas, presenting himself first at Acanthus, promised to achieve for the inhabitants, and for all the Hellenes, freedom from the yoke of Athens ; but at the same time, with an appeal to the gods and heroes of the country, he threatened to punish any refusal by laying waste the district. The choice, therefore, was between a change of sides and subjection by force. The inhabitants, as a body, were not inclined to maintain their position as a dependency of Athens at the risk of life and limb. In Acanthus a formal vote was taken on the proposal of Brasidas ; and the majority was in favour of accepting it. We may, perhaps, assume that this result was partly due to the doubling of the tribute, which was then being for the first time enforced. The hostility to the Athenians assumed, in consequence of this defection, greater dimensions than any which they had encountered hitherto.

Brasidas was a man of a steadfast and soldierlike temperament, of stainless virtue and heroic courage, who possessed the gift of confirming the attachment of his friends, while combating the hostility of his foes. It was a great event when this commander, supported by the descendants of the ancient inhabitants in the city and neighbourhood, made himself master of Amphipolis, the colony which the Athenians had founded between the arms of the Strymon. Pursuing here the same policy as elsewhere, he promised the inhabitants not only security, but an independent government of their own. If any one preferred to remain faithful to

Athens, he was permitted to withdraw, taking all his property with him. This was the case not only at Amphi- polis, but also at Torone, which shortly afterwards fell into his hands. The inhabitants of the Thracian towns gradually renounced the burdensome supremacy of Athens and became allies of Sparta.- Brasidas distributed arms among the native inhabitants of Chalkidike, and trained them in the Spartan discipline. His success was such that Perdiccas made common cause with him in an attack upon the Illyrians, a measure which must have given fresh weight to the ascendcncy of the Lakedremonians of these regions.

In this way the Athenians saw unexpected encroachments made upon them in those districts on the possession of which their political greatness principally depended, and of a great part of which they were now despoiled. Their losses in this quarter reacted upon their maritime supremacy. Once more Lesbos and its concerns exerted an influence on the struggle. A great number of Lesbians had fled into exile, and, collecting auxiliaries from other places, established themselves at Antandros, whence they hoped to be able to return to Mytilene. On other islands also there were signs of _ disaffection. It may have been through the dread of a general revolt that the Athenians removed the inhabitants of Delos with their wives and children from that island, on the plea that the earlier lustration had not sufficed to remove the pollution of which they had been guilty. The exiles were replaced by Athenian citizens and compelled to seek refuge with the Persian satrap on the neighbouring coast. The Athenians had not the slightest thought of bending before the storm of adversity which had burst upon them, but they considered it advisable to accept an armistice for a year, on the basis of uti possidetis. A new controversy, however, arose at once upon the armistice itself. Just at this time the people of Skione, a town situated on the peninsula of Pallene, had seceded to the Lakedsemonians, and it was disputed whether this had taken place before or after the conclusion of the armistice The Athenians main-

tained¹ with perfect truth that it had happened two days after, and they were accordingly resolved to maintain their right and to recover the town, whilst the Lakedaemonians hesitated to relinquish it to their vengeance.

Till the year expired the armistice was observed with tolerable fidelity. But meanwhile the general situation had so far changed that Perdiccas had quarrelled with Brasidas, and offered to make an alliance with the Athenians. It was upon this support that Cleon, whose success at Pylos obtained him the command in those districts, principally relied. He set out, accompanied by a considerable fleet and a fine army, for the shores of Thrace. He succeeded in recovering Skione, where he asserted with the utmost rigour the right which then belonged to sovereign states over their revolted subjects, reducing the women and children to slavery and sending all the adults capable of bearing arms as prisoners to Athens. After this he sailed to the Strymon, where he took up a position near Eion, a place which the historian Thukydides, at that time in command of the fleet, had allowed to fall into the hands of Brasidas after the loss of Amphipolis. Cleon intended to wait there for the auxiliaries of Perdiccas and other neighbouring chieftains, in order to begin the war with all the resources he could muster. But he had not the patience to remain in a position in which he might have defended himself with success, his troops having no confidence in his generalship, and indulging themselves in cutting observations at his expense. A demagogue far more than a commander, he forgot, whilst at the head of his troops, what should have been his duty in a military sense. He abandoned his excellent position with the object of making himself personally acquainted with the tone and temper of the country. While thus engaged he was surprised by the military skill of Brasidas, and the presumptuous demagogue succumbed to the practised strategist.²

¹ W e may adopt on this point without hesitation the impartial judgment of Thukydides (iv. 123).

’ In another tradition, preserved in Diodorus, Cleon is represented in a better light than in Thukydides, whom, nevertheless, we prefer to follow implicitly.

Brasidas, who had marched into the neighbourhood of Amphipolis, so laid his plans that, whilst he made a direct and unexpected attack upon the Athenians with a body of picked troops, they were at the same time assailed from the town itself. The discomfited Athenians, whilst attempting to retreat, were utterly routed. Cleon himself was slain. Brasidas was wounded, and shortly afterwards died (late summer, 422 B.C.)

It was a most important, although not a decisive, event. On the Spartan side the brave warrior had fallen who had achieved so much that he had already excited the jealousy of the Lakedaemonian aristocracy, on the Athenian the powerful demagogue whose voice more than any other commanded a hearing at Athens ; and it might now be hoped that an arrangement could be effected, there being solid reasons to make both parties incline to peace.

To the Lakedaemonians no object could be more desirable than a relief from the constant invasions to which their territories were exposed from Pylos and Kythera, and which excited the original inhabitants of the country against their masters, whilst their very existence would be imperilled if Argos, with which they had only concluded an armistice, soon to expire, renewed its old hostilities. On the other hand the Athenians were aware that the fabric of the league, upon which their power was based, was shaken. They had captured Delion by surprise, a place admirably situated for the maintenance of their ascendency in Euboea, but in a subsequent battle there they had met with a reverse. The Boeotians and Corinthians had once more wrested Delion from them, a circumstance in itself very destructive to their prestige. The defeat at Amphipolis, one of the heaviest the Athenians ever suffered, must have been still more disastrous in its effect upon the maritime league.

Lakedsemon had now a price to offer, in return for the complete evacuation of the Peloponnesus, in the restoration of Amphipolis. The control of Athens over her Thracian allies was not indeed re-established to the extent to which it had latterly been carried. Nothing was to be exacted

beyond the old tribute which Aristeides had formerly imposed. With this were coupled conditions securing the freedom of the towns in their internal affairs, notwithstanding their dependence upon Athens. A period was thus put to the hostilities on the Strymon which had developed so rapidly and had taken a turn so menacing to Athens (April 421 B.C.) The peace which was effected upon these terms led further to the restoration of the prisoners from Sphacteria, among whom were a hundred and twenty Spartans of pure race. Conditions such as Cleon had once demanded for their liberation were now out of the question.

The peace was a compromise between Lakedsemon and Athens. It was called for at Athens by those who had already, in opposition to Cleon, consistently urged it, and especially by Nikias, the most conspicuous of the Athenian generals, who is said to have remarked that he wished never to run the least risk of suffering a reverse which might injure his mother country—a pardonable egotism, since it sprang from a want of confidence in himself. In Lakedaemon the peace was chiefly promoted by Pleistoanax, who in this was true to the course he had taken in his retreat from Attica. His conduct on that occasion was no longer resented. The peace came, as we see from Aristophanes, to meet an universal need and craving. In the true spirit of the ancient comedy Aristophanes, in whom there ran a vein of Panhellenism, appends to the play in which he celebrates the peace an admonition to maintain it. Exactly in this, however, lay the difficulty.

The relations between Athens and Sparta were altogether of a very peculiar nature. A combination between these two states, one in nationality but contrasted in history and in political constitution, was indispensable, not only on the ground of Panhellenic interests, for on such a combination, as in the time of the Persian wars, the safety of Greece depended, but also on more selfish grounds, for while Athens

could not endure a Lakedsemonian invasion of Attica, the presence of an Athenian force in the Peloponnesus was equally intolerable to Lakedsemon. Peace was now concluded between them. The leading states were not, however, the whole body of the Hellenes, and it was at once found that the cities next to them in power declared against the treaty. Thebes was to lose Panacton, a place on her frontier the possession of which had cost her a long struggle, while Corinth was to part with Anactorion, a colony which, in conjunction with Korkyra, she had founded in Acarnania ; and both resented as-a grievous injustice the treatment they were receiving at the hands, of Sparta. In the agitation which ensued the peculiar character of the Greek states and cities was strikingly displayed.

They were all independent, and jealously conccrned to maintain their separate individuality. Each state had displayed all the acuteness characteristic of the Greeks in inclining the balance of its policy, both internal and external, to one or the other side. Their emissaries were incessantly passing to and fro to maintain unimpaired the interests of one state with another. The phenomenon of a number of communities, small indeed, but highly organised, with no superiQr power to control them even from a distance, forming a system kept together only by the sympathies and antipathies which were at work within its limits, is one which has never been repeated. In the ancient world, at a later date, the Makedonians and the Romans interfered in the affairs of the Greeks, and in the Italian republics of the Middle Ages the Papacy and the Empire, were never entirely left out of sight, and it is for this reason that the vicissitudes of these states, in themselves of little moment, excite the attention which is still bestowed upon them.

At the crisis which we have reached, the Corinthians took the initiative. The terms of the pacification being disadvantageous to their state, they represented to the other powers that the sole object of Athens and Sparta was to keep the rest of Greece under their joint control. They turned to Argos, a state which had become much more powerful of late

years, and which, having adopted a democratic constitution, was less likely than before to prolong her armistice with Sparta. If the old struggle should be renewed, Argos had willing allies in her near neighbour Mantineia, a town which had lately risen to great power, and in the Eleans, who had, like Argos, conformed to the democratic model, and had become involved with the adjacent state of Sparta in quarrels in which it is impossible to say which of the disputants had right upon their side. The budding league had this further and noteworthy result, that the Thebans declined to deliver up Panacton, without levelling its fortifications, to the Athenians. They appealed to an arrangement which had been made upon a former occasion, according to which Panacton was to be open ground, accessible to both parties. The Lakedaemonians in effect acceded to their representations. But the Athenians were astonished and exasperated. They thought themselves defrauded inasmuch as the frontier fortress was not delivered up to them intact, according to the terms of the peace. The Lakedaemonians, instead of compelling the Boeotians to deliver up the fortress, as the peace required, rather took their side. Thus from the action of the smaller states impeding the complete execution of the terms of peace, there arose a fresh misunderstanding between the two leading states which had concluded it.

Once more Nikias was sent to the Spartans to require them to break off their alliance with Thebes ; but his efforts were unsuccessful. A further consequence of this, however, was that the opponents of Nikias and his party gained ground in the Demos ; and the young Alkibiades now appeared at their head. He belonged to one of the principal families of the Eupatridae, and his mother was an Alcmaeonid.¹ He was educated in the house of Pericles, whose policy he continued so far as it was directed towards the improvement of the naval power of Athens and the extension of

¹ Alkibiades, his grandfather, an ally of Cleisthenes, had a son Cleinias, who married Deinomache, the granddaughter of Cleisthenes. Cleisthenes was, therefore, great-grandfather of the younger Alkibiades. It will be remembered that he was also great-uncle of Pericles.

her dominion without regard to Sparta. Alkibiades is said to have been displeased with the Spartans for having employed the intervention of Nikias in making advances to Athens, whilst the old terms of hospitality on which his ancestors on the father’s side had stood with Sparta, and which he himself had renewed, gave him, as he thought, a well-grounded claim to be entrusted with the charge of their interests. It is very possible that a young man, conscious of his own powers, proud of his descent, and eager to achieve personal distinction, may have resented this neglect. But Athens generally shared his estrangement from Sparta. To unite in a common policy the oligarchical government of Sparta and the democracy of Athens was an undertaking scarcely to be compassed. On the other hand there could have been no intention of renewing the war. Even Alkibiades had no such purpose, but he thought it well to counteract the combination between Sparta and Thebes, which might prove extremely dangerous, should Argos join it, by uniting Athens with Argos once more.

These little states form a world in which action is in* every case followed by reaction. If Corinth had sought a union with Argos, in order to resist the policy of the two greater powers, we see Athens now, in opposition to Sparta, entering into an alliance with Argos which forced Corinth to renew her old relations with Sparta. The democratic constitution of Argos was a further motive for advances on the part of Athens. In Argos as well as Sparta Alkibiades had personal friends, and after a short time a defensive league was made between Argos, Mantineia, and the Eleans on the one side and Athens on the other, by which it was covenanted that whoever attacked any one of the parties should be regarded as the enemy of all.

The state of universal tension which this league produced may be seen from the fact that the Spartans were prevented by the Eleans, supported as they were by Mantineia, Argos, and now by Athens as well, from taking part in the Olympic games (420 B.C.), the very purpose of which was to represent and to maintain peaceful relations between the different tribes

of Greece, however warlike their attitude at other times. Contrary to all expectation, the Spartans bore this insult patiently. Nor were they roused to action until the Argives, at the instigation of Alkibiadcs, made an attempt to subjugate Epidaurus. With the view of relieving the apprehensions of the Argives, a troop of helots was sent from Athens to disturb the Lakedsemonian territory (winter of 419-8 B.C.) Even then the Spartans carefully abstained from any hostility against Athens, and made it their principal aim either to overpower Argos or gain her to their side. With this intention King Agis took the field. He did in fact succeed, with the assistance of a party in Argos with whom he kept up an understanding, in concluding an armistice for four months (summer of 418 B.C.), which appeared certain to lead to a permanent peace.

At this crisis, however, Alkibiades once more arrived at Argos. By his influence the arrangement was pronounced invalid, and Argos and her allies, including the Athenians, attacked the Lakedsemonians, in accordance with the terms of the treaty. They captured Orchomenus, and liberated the hostages of the conquered towns, who had been transported thither by the Lakedsemonians ; then they pushed on against Tegeia, which had hitherto been the most faithful of the allies of Sparta. In this peril, menaced by an overwhelming force in the heart of the Peloponnesus, the Lakedsemonians bestirred themselves with all their old energy. As chance willed it, in the course of a desultory march, when they had no expectation of a battle, they encountered their enemies, who had taken up a good position at Mantineia (August, 418 B.C.) But their old discipline, which Spartan training and Spartan modes of life had maintained in all its vigour, asserted itself with conspicuous success, and their king Agis was enabled once more to clear himself from the censure under which he lay on account of his retreat some years before. The battle resulted in favour of the Lakedsemonians, and, though not immediately, had shortly afterwards the effect of bringing the party which favoured their cause once more into the ascendant at Argos. Thereupon the Argives, together with the Eleans

and Mantineians, concluded a league with the Spartans, the principal aim of which was to exclude the Athenians for ever from the Peloponnesus (winter of 418-7 B.C.) It was round this question that the mutual opposition of Athens and Sparta mainly centred. The Lakedsemonians would not endure the presence of any Athenians in the Peloponnesus, while the Athenians refused to give up the ties which they had formed within that region. Once more Alkibiades betook himself to Argos, and never were his talents as an agitator more brilliantly demonstrated. He brought about the overthrow of the oligarchy which had been established by Spartan influence, and all the principal supporters of this party were banished and placed under Athenian supervision. The Argives displayed the utmost zeal in attaching themselves to Athens, and at the instance of Alkibiades they built long walls, as Patrse had done a short time before, in ordet that their maritime connection with Athens might not b<j interrupted.

In spite of the conflict of interests which the political situa* tion so strikingly reveals, no open breach between Spart^ and Athens immediately ensued. Indeed, the Lakedasmonians acquiesced when the little island of Melos, one of their own colonies, was overpowered and punished with the most cruel severity by the Athenians, whose league it had refused to join (winter of 415-4 B.C.) The revenge which Cleon had proposed to take upon Mytilene was here mercilessly put into execution; the men were put to death, the women and children carried away as slaves. It is related of Alkibiades that although he had been chiefly instrumental in carrying this decree, he nevertheless reserved to himself a female captive who had attracted his admiration, and by whom a, son was born to him, whom he brought up in his own house. It is illustrative of the state of opinion at this time that his conduct, instead of being regarded as a matter of reproach, was on the contrary commended as a trait of humanity.

Alkibiades now figured as the principal personage at Athens, taking the same rank as Kimon before him, although belonging to the opposite party. There was an element of

truth in his assertion that in the splendid display which he made with his four-horse chariots at Olympia, where he won with them the first, second, and third prizes, he had only the glory of his native city in view, for it was indeed one way of showing Greece that Athens still possessed rich and powerful citizens. He was liberal in his expenditure for the public service and for the amusement of the people. But there was something in his whole character and conduct which transcended the republican standard and the traditions of citizen life. There was about him something of the prince, although he achieved influence through the democracy alone and by courting popularity. His brilliant exterior dazzled but did not offend. In his personal beauty, in his way of speaking, and even in his defective pronunciation, there was something which seemed to plead in his favour. In his youth he was told that he might attain to greater authority even than Pericles in public affairs. On the other hand Socrates called his attention to his imperfections. Alkibiades once remarked that when he heard Pericles speak he was left with the impression that Pericles had spoken well. ‘ But,’ he continued, ‘ when I listen to the words of this Marsyas’—it was thus he designated Socrates —‘ my heart leaps within me, and I shed tears, and he brings me to such a pass that I feel I can hardly endure the life I am leading.’ The mutual attraction between older men and those in early manhood, which is justly regarded as one of the most objectionable features in Greek life, was exalted in the relations between Socrates and Alkibiades above the vulgar level, and acquired an educational, and we might almost say a political and military, value. It was only by virtue of his mental superiority and moral influence that Socrates brought Alkibiades to return his affection, mutual proofs of which were given in the presence of the enemy, when Socrates saved Alkibiades after he had fallen exhausted at Potidaea, and was saved by him in turn in the retreat from Delion.

The natural propensities of Alkibiades, in spite of this friendship, held their course unchecked. His ambitious love of display, while it fascinated the multitude, which, says Aristophanes, loved him and hated him, but still could not live

without him, excited the apprehensions of quiet and serious- minded men, who foreboded nothing but mischief from his proceedings. ‘ Go on,’ said the misanthrope Timon, seeing him in the full enjoyment of popularity : ‘ you will bring all these folks to ruin.’ In spite of his Socratic discipline Alki- biades remained untamed and untrustworthy. That he entertained great designs from the first—that, for example, of making himself despotic or bringing Italy and Africa under the yoke of Athens—is more than we can say of him without some reservation. But he certainly aimed at making himself and his country great. He fixed his entire attention on the political conditions of the moment, and developed their tendencies with this end in view. It is easy to understand why he took the opposite side to Nikias. The insecurity of the situation in which Athens was placed, so long as the terms of peace were not carried out in their integrity, enabled him to set himself at the head of the people, and, young as he still was, to take the guidance of affairs into his own hands. The democracy needed a leader. Such a leader they found in Alkibiades, but he was the most dangerous they could have chosen. He could already point to great successes, especially to the alliance with Argos, which he had persuaded to oppose the Lakedsemonians in the Peloponnesus. This alliance, moreover, associated together democratic constitutions, and thus gave him a double authority in his character as a leader of the people. The combination of these tendencies did not, however, imply a breach with Sparta, for the notion of making Sparta herself democratic could never have been entertained. But the course upon which Athens had now entered tended to restrict the influence of Sparta within the smallest possible compass, and to leave the field open to the Athenians.

These considerations prepare us for the appearance upon the political horizon of an enterprise on the part of Athens for the subjection of Sicily. This enterprise may be regarded from one point of view as an episode in universal history, inasmuch as it affected, in the widest sense, the relations between various states and the modes of thought by which those relations were determined. It is an old observation

that the relations between the Greek settlements in Sicily and the Phoenician settlements founded by Carthage were in a manner connected with the general opposition between East and West. The story is well known that the victory at Salamis coincided with a corresponding success won by the Sicilian Greeks over the Carthaginians at Himera. This, indeed, is only a legend, traceable to the feeling that some such connection did in fact exist, but similar incidents really occurred. The Greeks in Sicily had been favoured with time to develope themselves peacefully, until they became able to hold their own against the Carthaginians in the island and to restrict them to a few places upon the coast. Yet there is no trace of any design on the part of Alkibiades and Athens to set themselves at the head of the Sicilian Greeks against the Carthaginians, although Alkibiades included Libya in his calculations. Their views, so far as they took shape in action, were confined to the internal disputes which agitated the Greek world. It was the Dorian settlements, whose inhabitants were closely connected with the Lakedsemonians, which were in the ascendant in Sicily. These were constantly at feud with the Ionian settlements, with which the Athenians were connected by a similar tie. To assist the latter was no departure from the direct course of Athenian policy.

It was a design which Pericles had already entertained. Several years before this time, when the Leontines, who were of Ionian descent, were hard pressed by Syracuse, the principal Dorian colony, various attempts were made to give them assistance, the only effect of which, however, was to strengthen the power of Syracuse. Egesta also, involved in a quarrel on the subject of territorial rights with the neighbouring city of Selinus, was put in jeopardy by Syracuse, which came to the assistance of the latter. There was no tribal relationship to give Athens a plea for making the cause of Egesta her own, for the latter city belonged to a colony reputed to be of Trojan origin, and was even on good terms with the Carthaginians. But Egesta insisted with success upon another motive—namely, the constantly increasing power

of Syracuse, which, by the subjection both of the Leontines and the people of Egesta, would become absolutely supreme in Sicily, to the detriment of the naval power of Athens and of her kinsmen of the Ionian stock. We recognise here the special character of the hostilities between Greek and Greek, as depending upon the antagonism of the races, but this opposition had never had consequences so extensive as those which were now in prospect

In Athens the advocates of peace, and especially Nikias, were absolutely opposed to the notion of assisting Egesta. The people of that city had indeed represented that Syracuse would always side with Sparta, but it seemed dangerous by an attack upon Syracuse to provoke open hostilities with the latter. To judge from the experience of the last few years, a war with Sparta offered little prospect of success, while it involved the greatest hazards, especially since all the other enemies of Athens would be roused to action at the same time. Alkibiades, as might be expected, combated these views. He was much assisted in his efforts by the alliance with Argos, which he had himself effected. Athens did not, as hitherto, stand single-handed, but had formed connections, through which the exclusive power of Sparta in the Peloponnesus was very greatly impaired. Alkibiades exerted all the power imparted both by his personal influence and his prestige. The noble speech which Thukydides puts in his mouth cannot be regarded as an exact report of what he said, but the principles therein expressed are of the greatest importance as illustrating the political views of the period. At the time of the subjugation of Melos, a proceeding not to be justified on any other ground, the Athenians had maintained the maxim that the inferior power must always give way to the greater ; it was, they affirmed, proved by experience that this was the will of the gods, to whom Melos vainly appealed. Their meaning was that territorial independence must inevitably, in the course of events, through which the divine will is displayed, yield to the sovereignty of a real power, embracing all its neighbours within the sphere of its influence. The feeling that might implies right was extended by Alkibiades to the

conclusion that a constantly progressive power, such as that of Athens, need not, when its assistance is invoked, be scrupulously careful to consider whether justice is on the side of the suppliants, or even whether it may expect, in case of emergency, to receive support from them in turn, but cannot avoid giving assistance. Everything in Athens depended, he said, upon the development of her naval power; no limit could be fixed at which this was to be arrested, for power excited a natural jealousy; it was always lawful to anticipate rather than to await attack, and necessary to take one side or the other.

The leading idea in this argument is simply that power, once established, must go on growing, because it cannot exactly estimate the hostile forces by which it may be opposed. This was the principle, as is well known, upon which Napoleon I justified his wars ; it was the cause of his ruin. It was the principle also of the Romans, who succeeded in carrying it out, and based their world-wide empire upon it. We see it here for the first time at Athens, dawning upon the mind of a leading statesman ; it was the issue towards which the march of Athens, in the development of her power, was tending. Democracy, in order to establish itself, had to deprive the old aristocracy of some of the prerogatives which it had formerly possessed. By the same process the individual independence of the members of the Delian league had been gradually broken down. Sparta was the only support to which malcontents of either class could turn. Alkibiades aimed chiefly at securing the dominion over all Hellas, to which Athens had already, in his view, a claim, by a victory over Syracuse : he thought little of the hostility of Sparta, which he accepted as an inevitable consequence.

It is ob,vious that these views must have encountered opposition, for, though it might be true that they had been put in practice already, no one had as yet openly professed them. The older men were more inclined towards Nikias, whilst the younger, eager for action, ranged themselves upon the side of Alkibiades. Alkibiades, however, insisted that both classes were essential to the composition of the state, and that

its power depended upon their united action. His counsels prevailed, and the preparations were undertaken on a magnificent scale. It was well known that the enemy to be assailed was expert in naval warfare. To conquer him a fleet of a hundred triremes was prepared. The universal emulation extended to the material equipment. But especial pains were taken with the requisite exercises, especially in trials of speed in rowing. Sixty of the vessels were purely ships of war ; forty were at the same time intended to serve as transports. Thirty-four ships were added by the members of the league, so that complete control of the sea was assured beyond a doubt. The Athenians were, however, determined to be prepared at all points for their enterprise, remembering that they would have to fight on shore as well as at sea. The number of hoplites embarked exceeded 5,000, of whom 1,500 were Athenian citizens and furnished their own equipment; 700 more were Athenian citizens armed at the public expense ; the rest were allies, among whom the contingents of Argos and Mantineia occupied a prominent place. All were hopeful of bringing the impending war to a successful issue, and of gaining from it glory and personal advantage. They had not neglected to provide against the attacks of cavalry, to which they would be exposed on their landing in Sicily. They lost no time in strengthening their forces with archers and slingers, principally from Crete. Above all, they reckoned 011 the support of the Ionian settlements in Sicily, and on plentiful contributions from Egesta.

It was an enterprise to which the past history of Greece afforded no parallel. It called forth all the energies of the commonwealth of Athens and of her allies ; and the Athenian people, always confident, ambitious, and apt to be tempted by wide projects, set the greatest hopes upon it. Nor can it be maintained that these hopes were unfounded, in view of the general situation at the time. The Carthaginians had already once been checked, and were now engrossed in other enterprises ; amongst the Greeks no force could be raised by sea and land which could at all approach the Athenian expedition in magnitude, whilst the Persians had their hands tied by the

Peace of Kimon. Thukydides makes Alkibiades expressly say that he had set his eye upon Italy and Libya, but always with the design of falling upon Peloponnesus with the power thence derived, as well as with barbarian, especially Iberian, auxiliaries, and with fresh triremes built of materials which Italy was to furnish. In this way, he explained, he had hoped to make himself master of the whole Hellenic world. This would have been, indeed, to take up a magnificent position in the midst of the opposing forces of the universe.

Yet we may question at the very outset whether Athens was really capable, not only of commencing, but carrying to a successful issue a struggle of this description. Even if such hopes were not unjustifiable in view of the opposing forces which the enterprise was destined to call into action, there is another reason which claims consideration. For the extension of a power which has but itself to depend upon, whilst making the whole world its antagonist, unity in the end and aims proposed is essential, whether it be the power of a prince who executes plans which he has himself framed, or of a commonwealth where a policy is firmly seized and as firmly maintained. But at the very outset it was manifest that Athens was not snch a commonwealth. Alkibiades, who had been chiefly instrumental in bringing the enterprise about, was nevertheless very far from holding a really commanding position, or even from being sure of the more limited authority which he actually possessed. One night, in the midst of the preparations for the departure of the fleet, the marble busts of Hermes which stood in front of the citizens’ houses were mutilated. This outrage threw the city into a ferment such as had never before been experienced. The act was construed into an attack upon religion and upon the constitution. It was against Alkibiades that the popular ill-humour was directed. Like Pericles, he was generally out of sympathy with the prevalent religion, and inclined rather to philosophic opinions ; he had, indeed, gone so far as to parody at a nocturnal debauch religious rites which were regarded by the multitude with reverential awe. It is certain that he had nothing to do with the disorderly act in question, but by the accusations which were

brought against him in the enquiry to which it gave occasion he felt his position shaken and imperilled. His personal conduct was so defiant of established rules and domestic morality that he was believed capable of anything.

Alkibiades was convinced that it would be impossible for him to sail unless the matter were legally decided and his own acquittal pronounced. It would be better, he said, that he should be put to death at once than that he should proceed upon an undertaking of such magnitude, and fraught with such critical issues to the state, while burdened with a suspicion of this kind. It is true that the superstitious multitude was excited against him, but it is equally undeniable that his political antagonists seized this as a favourable opportunity to shake his authority. A little reflection, however, sufficed to convince them that on the very eve of an enterprise upon which all eyes were directed, and in the presence of so many armed citizens enlisted for the campaign, they could effect nothing against the general, who, although associated with two other commanders, Nikias and Lamachus, had the principal conduct of the undertaking. They even wished the expedition to Sicily to start at once, as they would then be in a position to proceed to further machinations undisturbed. Without entering into the case itself the people came to a formal resolution that the fleet should set sail without delay.¹ Alkibiades was thus relieved from the immediate danger of

¹ I depart here from the usual view that the trial was postponed till the return of Alkibiades in consequence of a formal determination ; for, in the first place, this would have been the exact opposite of the course which Alkibiades had desired, and it would, in the case of one so powerful, have brought about a

reaction in his favour. But, besides this, how could the party of his opponents have had the effrontery, in the face of such a decision, to proceed against him ? In Thukydides no such statement is made ; the proposals of certain orators are by no means represented as acquiesced in by the people {vi. 29). , His words are, e8o£e irteiv rbv ’AAKtfiidfiTjv. Plutarch, whose account is really only an expansion of that of Thukydides, perhaps suggests something of the kind, but nowhere actually say's as much (Alcibiades, c. 19). Andokides has, indeed, so stated the matter, but it has been sufficiently demonstrated that his statements

are not entirely to be depended on. To me the only certain fact seems to bj

that in the vote of .the people which was to pronounce upon the accusation they proceeded to the order of the day. This, however, was only the question of the departure of the fleet. Everything else remained undecided.

legal proceedings, but, on the other hand, his opponents did not renounce their intention of bringing fresh charges against him in his absence. Under such circumstances it was scarcely to be expected that an undertaking should succeed in which everything depended upon the unbroken spirit of its commander-in-chief.

There is one further question which we cannot leave unin- vestigated—the question to what precise point the aims of Athens were directed ; for it is impossible that she could have rested content with the general but very vague idea of a conquest of Sicily. Diodorus Siculus, who for this chapter of history supplies us with several valuable details in amplification of the narrative of Thukydides, states that in a conference between the generals elect and the leading members of the Council of Five Hundred, which took place on the day before the departure of the fleet, it was resolved to prosecute the war against Syracuse and Selinus to the utter destruction of those communities. Since it was against them that the assistance of Athens had been invoked by the people of Egesta and Leontini, it was purposed to render that assistance without let or stint. The other Sicilian republics were to be left unhurt, but to be forced to enter into an alliance. The league between Athens and a number of subject allies, which had been maintained in the East against the Persians, was now to be extended to the West as a cheek upon the Carthaginians, an arrangement which would have given Athens a commanding position over the greater part of the Mediterranean as well as of Greece itself. The mass of the people can scarcely have had much knowledge of these intentions ; their minds were occupied simply by the vastness of the enterprise and by the hopes and fears which were linked with it. Every one knows the description of the state of feeling at Athens which is given by Thukydides. He tells us further that on the departure of the fleet the customary prayers and libations were offered upon the ships at the voice of the herald. Diodorus adds that the shore of the harbour was covered with censers and consecrated goblets, and that the people on their part made libations ; he represents, however, that this was

not the unanimous act of all, but of those only whose proper function it was to minister in religious worship.

Such were the circumstances under which the fleet put to sea, in the archonship of Chabrias, about midsummer, B.C. 415. On arriving at the shores of Italy, towards which they first steered, they discovered that they had not the slightest hope of obtaining from Egesta the supplies of money which they had expected. Nikias therefore proposed that they should limit themselves to fulfilling the obligations which they had undertaken, by obtaining for the people of Egesta, in whatever way they could, the rights they claimed, and should then return home, refraining from attempts which would involve the state in incalculable expense and endanger their great armada. This, however, would have been to stultify the whole proceeding; and Alkibiades urged that it would be better to obtain a firm footing upon the island, gain over some allies, and, having laid this foundation, begin hostilities against Syracuse. His view prevailed, and, in conformity with that right of the stronger which Athens had proclaimed, they got possession, not without some double-dealing, of the city of Catana, in the harbour of which the Athenian fleet then found shelter. Of the colonies connected by race with Athens Naxos came to her side, and it would perhaps have needed only a single success to bring about a great revolution in Sicily.¹

But at the very moment when the enterprise was thus fairly begun in accordance with the projects of Alkibiades, the Salaminian trireme appeared in the harbour of Catana to recall him. His antagonists, who at the time when Alkibiades carried the resolution in favour of the expedition had bound themselves to counteract the execution of his scheme, and to put a period to the dangerous growth of his influence, had lately renewed their attacks. It was a son of Kimon who accused him of having derided Demeter and Persephone,

¹ The well-informed authority whom Diodorus follows says expressly that the cities of the Sikeli, though leaning for their own part towards the Syracusans, would have looked on quite quietly and awaited the issue of the struggle (xiii. 4) : at v 2t/ceA.ajj/ T7j fxkv evvoia npbs 3,vpaKO(rlovs epfcnov, 5¹ 4v yarvxla

fievovtrai rb (rujx^ffifxevov iKapad6Kouv.

the goddesses of Eleusis, and in his absence procured a resolution calling him to account for having turned the EleuSinian mysteries into ridicule.¹ So much importance was still attached at Athens to his connection with the Argives and the Manti- neians, who continued to be attached to him, that he was not at once put under arrest, but was allowed a certain degree of freedom in the return voyage to Athens, in the course of which the vessels touched at the shores of Italy. At Thurii, however, Alkibiades, with some others who were implicated in the same accusation, fearing that on his arrival at Athens he would be condemned to death, quitted the ship—it was his own —on which he was sailing, and succeeded in making good his escape. He was once asked if that was all the trust he placed in his native country ; his answer was that in a danger which threatened his life he would not trust even his own mother, who might easily make a mistake between a black ball and a white one. Yet unquestionably he had made up his mind to prove to his native city, by all the means at his command, not merely that he was still alive, but that she could do nothing without him, and even from a distance to chastise the enemies who had banished him from home and country. Animated by the proudest consciousness of his own worth, he felt himself no longer a citizen of the state to which he belonged, and severed without hesitation every tie, to enter upon a course in which he obeyed the guidance of his own star alone.

Something resembling this had already been seen in the instance of Themistocles. But to Themistocles his position at Athens was all in all, and, at the crisis when he was expected to fight against his native land, his death, probably self-determined, put him beyond the reach of this necessity. Alkibiades, on the contrary, contemplated from the outset an attack upon Athens. He declared that the Lakedaemonians were not such deadly enemies to Athens as the party in his native city which had expelled him, Alkibiades, the people’s best friend. It would even have displeased him had Athens,

¹ According to Thukydides, the resolution to recall Alkibiades was formed with the express intention of destroying him (vi. 61, fiovXti/xevot aurbv es Kplffiv ayayiures airoKTetvai).

without his help, obtained supremacy over Greece, and the commanding position in the world which he had desired to procure for her, for that position would then have been the portion of his antagonists. These it was his principal aim to crush, and he even thought it better to put the Spartans in possession of a supremacy which they would wield with moderation, than to let it fall into the hands of a government so unjust as that of Athens. The development of the naval power of Athens, to its furthest possible extent, that idea which had hitherto under all her leaders, whatever their party, given life and aim to> the energies of Athens, on the lines initiated by Themistocles, was abandoned by the- very man who had been its most vigorous advocate and champion. The historian of the epoch was told that Alkibiades, who repaired under a safe-conduct to Sparta, made two suggestions of a nature disastrous to Athens. The first was to establish in the district of Attica a fortified place, from which they might harass the-country without intermission, and so, impair the inland resources of Athens as to render illusory- the objects for which her long walls were built The second' was to send the Syracusans considerable assistance, or at least an experienced' general to conduct their defence. In the nature of things, there is no. reason why we should not assume that the Spartan Ephors, men of intelligence and observation*, could have arrived without assistance at notions so obvious as, these ; but we have followed the authority of the conscientious and well-informed historian who attributes these plans to the- inspiration of Alkibiades ; and no one would attempt to deny- that he contributed towards their adoption. The mission of a skilful leader to. Syracuse was in particular a matter of urgent necessity. Nikias had meanwhile opened and prosecuted the- war against Syracuse with success, though the town was stoutly defended by Hermocrates ; his hoplitcs had achieved some advantages by land and taken possession of the heights which commanded the fortifications of Syracuse, whilst the fleet cut off all communication with Greece. Turbulent movements began to make their appearance in the city, and it appears that an accommodation was contemplated, by which

Syracuse would have secured her existence on condition of acknowledging the sovereignty of Athens.

This was the very danger of which Alkibiades warned the Spartans, and he advised them above all things to prevent any arrangement between Athens and Syracuse. Accordingly a Corinthian vessel, succeeding in spite of the Athenian fleet in reaching Syracuse, brought the news that Lakedaemon, the ancient capital of the Dorian race, would not abandon them, but would shortly send them an experienced general. The news was decisive of the war. The Syracusans recovered confidence in their cause, and soon afterwards the Spartan Gylippus appeared to take in hand the defence (late summer, 414 B.C.) The sense of relationship combined with the great interest at stake to secure exact obedience to his orders, and the defence was soon transformed into an attack upon the besiegers, in which the latter found their situation at every step more disadvantageous. At the same time a Corinthian squadron succeeded in making its way into the harbour of Syracuse. The Athenians had designed not only to overpower Syracuse, but to make it a position from which they might become masters of Peloponnesus: it was therefore in the defence of Syracuse that all the forces of Peloponnesus were now combined. A considerable reinforcement which arrived from Athens was unable to restore the balance in favour of the Athenians, and they determined to seek safety in a hasty retreat whilst retreat was still possible.

The cause which prevented them was a very noteworthy one. It was no other than the ancient superstition which Pericles and the philosophers had combated, one closely connected with those rites the presumptuous mockery of which had occasioned the recall of Alkibiades. It is indeed strange to see on the one hand the principle of might pursued, as at Melos, to its extremest consequences, just as though there were no protecting deities to take up the cause of the weak, and yet on the other hand this blind adherence to the old belief in the gods. When all was ready for their departure, the occurrence of an eclipse of the moon (August 27,413 B.C.) threw the troops and their leader, Nikias. into such a

state of terror that they gave up the retreat, and they purposed, according to the directions of the soothsayers, to wait thrice nine days before coming to a decision. This delay was their destruction. The proceedings connected with the mutilation of the Hermne had checked their enterprise, after it had been undertaken past recall. And now the occurrence of an eclipse of the moon prevented the deliverance of the fleet when it was still possible to effect it. The Athenians were indeed even now more' numerous than their enemies in the harbour, but the limited space deprived them of the superiority which they derived in naval actions from greater rapidity of movement. Their antagonists had improved their triremes by additions which made them superior to the Athenian vessels in a conflict of ship against ship. In- the first serious encounter the Athenian fleet,. the mainstay of. the power of the republic,, was annihilated. A like destruction next overtook the. land forces. The survivors of those who. had hoped to conquer the world were condemned to labour in the stone quarries. The two commanders-in-chief by land and sea were put to death by the Syracusans.

Whilst the design of extending the power of Athens- towards the West was thus completely shipwrecked, the course of events brought about a blow still more disastrous to her power in the other direction, in which it had been consolidated by Miltiades and Kimon. Her Ionian, allies now roused: themselves to the endeavour to relieve themselves of the- oppressive yoke which the Athenians had imposed upon them. And here we remark that the event of the- struggle at Syracuse exercised an important influence upon the general situation in its widest extent. In Sicily the- Carthaginians, who- had enlisted a portion of the Athenian mercenaries, men. whose ideas were limited to the payment they could get for- military service, obtained a preponderance which at length,, although only gradually, made itself felt.. In Asia Minor the. action taken by the allies of Athens excited the ambition, of Tissaphernes, the satrap of Sardis. Here once more we find the influence of Alkibiades at work. It was through his intervention that Lakedaemon entered into a league with the

Persians directed against the maritime power of Athens. That power still existed in the ALgean Sea and on the coasts of Ionia, but had already become impaired. Even Chios relinquished her usual caution and fell away from her. These events took place in the summer of 414 B.C. In order completely to crush the maritime authority of the Athenians, the Persians guaranteed to the Lakedaemonians subsidies which enabled them to send a considerable fleet to sea.

The centre of universal interest was thus transferred to another point, and the great question, to which all others were secondary, was whether the power of Athens would be maintained or not. Every other consideration, compared with this, had to withdraw into the background. The novel spectacle was presented of the Greeks assisting the Great King to subdue his revolted nobles,¹ in return for his promise to send Phoenician ships to the help of the Peloponnesians, combined against Athens. The treaties which had been made with the Persians hitherto had been only of a transitory nature, and even in the districts which had nominally remained under Persian control the power of the Athenians had been strong enough to collect the tributes established in their league. In the events which were now taking place we see a complete reversal of that condition of things which had resulted a generation earlier in the arrangement called the Peace of Kimon. The main condition of this compact was the complete exclusion of the Persians from the affairs of Greece by sea as well as by land, in return for which the Athenians had pledged themselves to leave the Persian Empire unmolested. Now, however, the latter—and that too by the instrumentality of the great leader of Athens in alliance with the Lakedaemonians—was relieved of that obligation, and the reappearance of Phoenician ships in the Archipelago approved. The Lakedaemonians conceded that the whole region which belonged to the King, whether then or formerly, was to remain in its allegiance or return to it.²

¹ Amorges, the natural son of Pissuthnes, Satrap of Lydia, who had made an alliance with the oligarchs at Samos in the year 440 i^Thuk. viii. 28).

² In the first treaty concluded between the Lakedsemonians and the Persians- the words are, dirocriv x<£>pav Ka\ Tt6\ets /3ac(Aevs eyei, nal ol Ttarepes ol jSatriAews

They thus virtually gave up the claim of the maritime districts to be emancipated from the Persian dominion, and in this they found considerable support in the' islands, which had long been weary of the Athenian rule.

The way in which the Athenians, even in this difficult situation, still maintained their ground, has always excited admiration. They appropriated the thousand talents which were reserved in the citadel for emergencies of this kind. The idea of a state treasury as conceived by Pericles thus proved most salutary. The Athenians, moreover, had still the Argives upon their side. They succeeded once more in effecting a landing upon the shores of Asia Minor, and in overcoming the revolted city of Miletus, as well as the Lakedsemonians who had come to its assistance (end of summer, 412 B.C.)^ We remark here in general that the tribal relations, thatj legacy of a remote past the memory of which had been so often recalled in more recent times, were in these transactions completely disregarded. In spite of their Ionian origin the Milesians went over to the Lakedasmonians, while the Argives, who were Dorians, fought on the side of the Athenians. Kept together by no common sentiment, the unity of Hellas broke up into groups united by ephemeral alliances.

In the battle of which we have just spoken Ionians, as represented by the Milesians, maintained their ground against Dorians as represented by the Argives, whilst on the other hand the allies of Miletus, the Lakedsemonians, were defeated by the Athenians, Ionians of ancient descent. The latter advantage decided the battle. The Athenians determined to besiege Miletus, by the conquest of which they hoped once more to become masters of the whole sea coast. Alkibiades was on the spot, and is said to have advised the Spartan fleet, which arrived at this juncture, and which now included some Sicilian triremes, twenty-one from Syracuse and two from Selinus, not to look on quietly whilst Miletus was reduced, but

elxov, PatTLkeas eirra (Thuk. viii. 18) ; in the third, effected in the winter 411410 (Thuk. viii. 57), x^P^{av T}V oo"n trjs ’Aalas ia-rl, $a<n\ias elvai Kal irepl tt)s %dp(zs T7)s eavrov /3ou\€V€tcc flafrtKevs oncos ftovXeraL.

to attack the Athenian fleet, then lying at anchor before the town, without delay. The Athenians, however, did not feel themselves strong enough to resist so formidable a combination. It was the same as that to which they had succumbed in the harbour of Syracuse. Their principal antagonist at Syracuse, Hermocrates, was in this very fleet, and there was besides every probability that the Persians would attack them by land. Phrynichus, the Athenian admiral, was unwilling to bring upon himself the fate of Nikias and Demosthenes. He made a timely retreat to Samos, and the siege of Miletus was raised. The Peloponnesians had gained not indeed an actual victory, but still a decided advantage. The revolt already commenced could now no longer be repressed. On the contrary, it spread both towards the north and the south. Rhodes, Sestos, and Abydos fell away, and Lesbos showed an inclination to follow their example. The Delian League, on which the greatness of Athens depended, was falling to pieces. Even in Euboea an insurrection broke out.

The position of Alkibiades in the midst of this conflict, which he had himself brought about, is a peculiar one. It suggests a general observation, which we may be permitted to make in this place. All the states of antiquity were held together and animated by the feeling of a common bond between citizen and citizen ; sovereignty was regarded as residing in the community as a whole, and no one could dissociate himself from the interests of the rest, upon pain of forfeiting his life. Alkibiades, however, had broken this fundamental law. He made an arbitrary use of his personal position to thwart his native city. Being nothing more than a citizen, he yet followed a policy peculiar to himself in order to overpower his opponents, who, though simple citizens themselves, held the supreme power at Athens in their hands. We shall see elsewhere that this was the way in which the Roman republic, the greatest which ever existed, was transformed into a monarchy. Alkibiades was never in a position to conceive such a design ; he had not at his command, like Caesar, a power of his own by which to maintain his authority against his antagonists. Pie could only achieve

this end by setting her most powerful neighbours in motion against his native city.

It soon, however, became apparent that the interests of these states were divergent from his own. Originally in league with the Lakedaemonians, Alkibiades now found it necessary to oppose them. It could never have been his intention to procure for the Lakedaemonians an unconditional preponderance ; this would have been only to give himself a change of masters. His keenest efforts were actuated by a desire to obtain a footing in Athens once more, but at the same time he wished to maintain her autonomy against the Lakedaemonians. Herein he found a supporter in Tissa- phernes, whom he is said to have reminded that it was not to the interest of Persia to allow the dominion of the sea to fall into the hands of Sparta, but rather to keep Athens and Sparta in equilibrium. In this case, as in others, a political idea, in itself obvious enough, is attributed to the influence of Alkibiades. It was an idea of vital importance for the preservation of Athens. But it is obvious that it could not be acted on without the consent of the supreme authorities in the city itself. Here, in the natural course of things, opposite parties had been formed, and views widely divergent were entertained.' In order to understand the somewhat intricate course of the movements which were decisive of the main result, we must once more make Athens the principal object on which our eyes are to be fixed.

5. State of Things at Athens during the Years immediately before and after the End of the Peloponnesian War.

The admirals of the fleet at Samos were convinced that resistance to the combined forces of Lakedaemon and Persia was impossible. They were therefore inclined to welcome the prospect opened to them by a coalition between Alkibiades and Tissaphemes against the Lakedaemonians, while they favoured a movement in the city opposed to the absolutism of a pure democracy. The internal commotions of the Athenian community were undoubtedly the result of external

complications. The democracy, to which Alkibiades owed his banishment, stood condemned, so soon as it was seen to be no longer capable, in spite of all its efforts, of defending the state. Its maintenance became impossible when it appeared that Alkibiades would have to be recalled, if his negotiations with Tissaphernes were to be brought to a successful termination. Alkibiades, however, had no wish to be recalled by those who had expelled him. On the contrary, his passionate desire for vengeance could be satisfied by nothing less than their destruction. His aims were furthered by the state of the democracy at the time. It was easy to find just cause of complaint against it in the pay given to the heliasts and the political supremacy which the lower classes had obtained. But the opposition which the democracy had to encounter was of a twofold nature. The democratic government in its present form was to be abolished. So far all were agreed. The question was, What would be the effect of such a change in so thoroughly democratic a state as Athens ? What form of government was to take the place of the democracy ?

What in fact happened was that the commanders of the fleet and the opponents of republican government in the city decided on measures of revolutionary violence against the democracy. The course of events was similar to that which took place in the Italian republics of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, when a ‘ Balia ’ used to be entrusted with the revision of the constitution. At Athens a commission was nominated by popular vote for a similar object. Certain men of the highest authority took sides with the coming oligarchy. The most important of these was Anti- phon, the founder of the art of rhetoric, who appears to have taken the lead throughout. What he proposed, or rather what the commission resolved, bore the stamp of a violent reaction. Five men of similar views were to increase their number by co-optation to a hundred. Each of these was empowered to add three more. The Council of Four Hundred thus composed were thenceforward to exercise control over public affairs. Here too we are reminded of the Italian

parliaments. Almost exactly in the Italian fashion the people was then summoned to meet at Colonus, and gave their sanction to all that was done (411 B.C.) Thereupon the democratic Five Hundred retired from the council hall and made way for the four hundred oligarchs. The change was as thorough as it was sudden. A popular assembly of Five Thousand was indeed supposed to exist, but whether it should meet or not was left to the Four Hundred to decide. They governed as they thought fit. The most important matter which called for their consideration was their position with regard to Sparta. Their inclination did not go quite so far as submission to the Lakedsemonians. A Lakedsemonian column marching from Dekeleia was repelled from the walls of Athens. But, though unwilling to submit, they were quite willing to make peace and even alliance with Lakedsemon. Theramenes himself, a worthy colleague of Antiphon, declared that the constitutional change was accepted by the people because it was likely to inspire confidence towards Athens in the minds of the Lakedsemonians.¹

Partiality for Lakedsemon was, however, directly opposed to the intentions of the fleet. If an oligarchy of this kind were established, Alkibiades would have no chance of return. The fleet at Samos, engaged in a struggle with the Lakedsemonians for maritime supremacy, could not humble itself so far as to sue the enemy for peace.. On the contrary, it insisted that Tissaphernes should be won over by Alkibiades. Against all that Alkibiades had hitherto projected or carried out sound objections may be raised. But at this juncture, when the safety of Athens was at stake, his conduct was blameless and even noble. He came in person to Samos. It was at the very moment when the naval force, enraged at the proceedings at Athens, was preparing for an attack on the Peirseus and the oligarchy was arming itself for resistance. At this point Alkibiades showed himself superior to party spirit. He represented to the trierarchs the danger to which their conduct

¹ Xenophon, Hellenica, ii. 3, 45- The observations of Grote (History of Greece, viii. 18, note 2) may perhaps be ascribed to a preconceived opinion, which has sometimes a detrimental effect on the work of that excellent historian.

would expose the power of Athens at every point: Ionia and the Hellespont would at once desert their cause, and the Lakedsemonians would become omnipotent in that quarter. He had now become one of the Strategi, and he used his official position to bring about a reconciliation between the two parties. He declared that, for his own part, reconciliation with the Four Hundred was impossible, but that he should be satisfied if the resolution already mentioned were carried into effect, and the Assembly of Five Thousand were endowed with the reality instead of the semblance of authority.

This compromise was of a nature very agreeable to his personal feelings. The democracy was to be restored, but not the democracy by which he was banished, for the Five Thousand consisted only of those who were capable of providing themselves with arms. The whole tendency of things at Athens pointed the same way. A division showed itself in the ranks of the Four Hundred. The extreme oligarchs were inclined to go further in the direction of alliance with Sparta than the moderate party thought compatible with the welfare of the state. In the midst of this crisis a battle between the fleets of Athens and Sparta took place off the coast of Eubcea. The former, which had to cope with the hostility of the islanders as well, was beaten, and the island fell into the power of the Lakedsemonians. This event caused extreme anxiety at Athens. Resistance to the Lakedaemonians would have been impossible had they made an' immediate attack upon the Peirseus. The historian of the period allows that nothing but their dilatoriness saved Athens. The danger was imminent, and, since aid could no longer be expected from any quarter except the fleet and army at Samos, their demands could not be refused. All hesitation came to an end. The popular assembly in the Pnyx accepted the proposals of the fleet, Alkibiades was recalled, the Council of Four Hundred was abolished (411 B.C.) On the other hand, the Assembly of Five Thousand was called into being, and was recognised as the sovereign people of Athens.

Thukydides holds this to be the best considered of all the political reforms that took place at Athens during his lifetime.

It will appear shortly that various fresh complications were connected with the change, but foi^the time being the idea of the democracy was saved, while it was clothed in a more moderate and practicable form. It is nevertheless the opinion of our historian that all would have been lost had the Phoenician fleet of a hundred and fifty sail, which was already in the neighbourhood, made common cause with the Lakedsemonians. Alkibiades always took credit for persuading Tissaphernes to send the fleet home, and I see no reason for refusing to believe him. The vacillating policy of Tissaphernes can only be explained on the hypothesis that he was unwilling to see the total destruction of Athens, and nothing but the presence in Athens of Alkibiades, in whom he had great confidence, could hinder this event. It was a matter of less importance that Tissaphernes’ neighbour, Pharnabazus, satrap of Phrygia, clung to the league between the king of Persia and the Peloponnesians, and supported the latter with all his might. The Phoenician fleet failed to appear, and the more considerable of the two satraps renounced the cause of the Peloponnesians. The Athenians could show themselves again with greater confidence at sea. This confidence was much increased when, in the first collision with the Lakedsemonian and Syracusan fleets off Kynossema, they won a decisive victory over the allies (411 B.C.) This triumph seemed to wipe off the stain of the defeat in the harbour of Syracuse. The hopes which the victoiy raised at Athens were strengthened soon after by another great success. A battle by sea and land, in which Alkibiades took part, was fought near Kyzikus. The Peloponnesians were defeated with great loss, and Kyzikus itself was reconquered by the Athenians (410 B.C.) The Lakedsemonian commanders were deeply depressed by this event ; their announcement of it began with the words,

‘ Our good luck is gone.’ The desertion by Alkibiades of his country’s cause inflicted the severest losses on Athens. It was his reconciliation which, more than any other event, prevented her complete overthrow. To him was due even the reconquest of Byzantium.

Had he stopt short at this point, had he secured Athens

in a position of safety, and established her among the great powers of the world, he would have won immortal renown as the saviour of his country! But this consummation was again hindered by political differences with his allies. Everything depended on his inducing the satrap to spare Athens and desert Lakedaemon. But Tissaphernes was not an independent prince, and the Great King felt himself bound to Lakedaemon by the treaty which he had shortly before made with that power. A satrap might, in the confusion of the moment, resolve on reconciliation with Athens, but such a measure was not likely to meet with approval at Susa. It was merely a personal resolution of the satrap, which set him at variance with his government. He had no sooner taken up this new line than he had to abandon it again, and Alkibiades himself was the first to discover the change in his attitude. pull of the self-confidence with which recent successes had inspired him, he had returned to Tissaphernes, with the intention, one may well suppose, of establishing the alliance on a permanent footing. But the satrap was no longer what he had been. All his former cordiality had disappeared, and Alkibiades, perceiving that he was in danger of imprisonment, resolved to make his escape as soon as possible. The satrap does not appear to have pursued his former friend with all the vindictiveness which is customary in such cases, but a continuation of their former relations was impossible. The alliance between Athens and the satrap of Sardis came to an end. Tissaphernes soon afterwards made way for Cyrus, the King’s younger son, who appeared as Karanos of Asia Minor. We shall have more to say about him presently ; it is enough at this point to state that he at once re-established the ancient alliance between Persia and Sparta. The historian who examines these circumstances after the lapse of centuries is struck by the extent to which the fate of Greece in general, and of Athens and Alkibiades in particular, was dependent on the fluctuations of Persian policy.

Alkibiades returned to Athens on the day of the festival of the Plynteria (May, 408 B.C.), on which the statues of the patron goddess used to be veiled. The day was considered

unlucky. Later authors described his return as a triumph ; the nearest contemporary witness has a different story to tell. According to this authority Alkibiades did not disembark immediately on coming to land, but waited till his nearest relations made their appearance in the port. Then, attended by a large crowd, he advanced towards the city. The crowd was not, however, all of one mind. Many considered him the source of all the misfortunes that had befallen Athens. But the majority took his side, on the ground that the charges made against him on a former occasion were false. It was -nothing but stern necessity, said they, that compelled him, even at the risk of his life, to ally himself with the enemies of his country. In the popular assembly Alkibiades declared the rumour that he had insulted the Eleusinian mysteries to be unfounded. Thereupon he was chosen commander-in-chief, with absolute power. There was no opposition, for no one would have ventured, by dissenting from the proposal, to bring the wrath of the assembly in its present mood upon himself.

Alkibiades was now regarded as the only man capable of restoring Athens to her old position. He himself must have already ceased to be confident of success in this direction, for he was fully aware that he had lost the support of Persia. The aspect of his native city, so fallen from her high estate, could only strike him with a deeper melancholy, for he was bitterly conscious of having been the main cause of her downfall. He laid the blame on no one, either on the people or his own foes ; he complained only of his evil fortune. He was eager to reconcile himself with his country and her gods, and his chief anxiety was that the sacred procession to Eleusis should again pass along the customary way towards the shrine. This project he carried out, attended by so strong a guard that the Lakedsemonians, though near at hand, did not venture to molest the procession. This done, he put to sea again with a goodly fleet (Oct. 408 B.C.) It was still expected of him that he would restore the greatness of Athens, but the Lakedsemonians had meanwhile been reinforced, and offered a resistance that he could not overcome. The advantages which

he contrived to win at sea were rendered unavailing by the obstinacy of the defeated cities, which naturally put forth all their strength to avoid falling again under the yoke of Athens. His plans were still further thwarted by a severe repulse which the fleet met with off the Ionian coast. Personally Alkibiades was not to blame, but the defeat was laid at his door. He had, it was said at Athens, appointed an officer as his lieutenant who showed himself unfit for the post. The fact was that, even under the newly constituted democracy, he had never recovered his popularity with the masses, while the crews of the fleet placed no confidence in him. This indeed is not to be wondered at. Great performances on his part were the only means of justifying his restoration to power.

It is at this point that the decisive influence of Persia on these affairs makes itself most clearly felt. The needful victories became impossible so soon as Persian gold in abundance began to pour into the coffers of Lakedaemon. Alkibiades saw clearly enough the altered condition of affairs, but he dared not return, for the people of Athens showed their displeasure by putting other commanders in his place. The individuality of his character consisted in this, that he pushed whatever project he had in hand as far as was possible, and seized upon any means of escape that remained, when hi's policy appeared impracticable and his own safety was endangered. In the present difficulty his decision was quickly taken. He resolved to leave the fleet and retire to his fortified residence near Pactye, on the Thracian Chersonese. There he proposed to live as an independent prince, but by no means to cut himself adrift from public affairs.

It is time to return to the war in which Athens was engaged. Its peculiarity consists in this, that it had to be carried on against the allied forces of Persia and Lakedasmon, and against the revolted allies to boot. To the credit of the Athenian democracy it must be said that it maintained the unequal conflict with all its native energy. When the Spartans under Callicratidas again won the upper hand at sea, the Athenians strained their resources to the utmost. In the space of thirty days they manned a fleet of a hundred and ten

triremes with freemen and slaves. These efforts were rewarded by a decisive victory off Arginusae (Sept. 406 B.C.), in which the Lakedaemonians lost nineteen ships with their commanders. But at the same time the old violence of party spirit broke out anew in Athens. The eight Athenian strategi had been prevented by a storm from rescuing the crews of the disabled ships, and from burying the dead who had fallen in the fight. The Athenian people, animated as usual by an excessive regard for religious ceremonial, considered this omission as a criminal offence. They were not satisfied with depriving of their offices the commanders who had won so great a victory. Two of the commanders, who doubtless knew the temper of the people, saved themselves by flight. The rest were all condemned and executed. Men like Socrates opposed the proceeding in vain. The chief evil of these religious antipathies was that political parties made use of them in the struggle with their opponents. We have seen an instance of this already in the trial of Alkibiades. Diomedon, one of the commanders, died in the very act of beseeching the people to perform the vow which he and his colleagues had made to Zeus the Preserver, to Apollo and the Venerable Goddesses, through whose aid the victory had been won.

While Athens was in this manner banishing or putting to death the best men in the state, the Spartan oligarchy managed so far to overcome its prejudices as to entrust the supreme command to one who, whatever might be urged against him on other grounds, was the fittest man they could find for the post. This man was Lysander. The most ancient tradition informs us that he did not belong by birth to the ruling class, but to the Mothakes, a class consisting of those who, being of free descent, were adopted into the families of the Spartiatae, were educated with the Spartiate youth, and, by going through the whole course of Spartan discipline, became capable of advancement to high positions in the state. Lysander imbibed to the full that craving for personal distinction which was the product of Spartan education. Though he never allowed himself to be seducfed by bribes,

he was well aware what bribes could do. Brave as he was—and none were braver—he is nevertheless related to have said,When the lion’s skin fails one must try the fox’s hide.’ To the simplicity and straightforwardness of Callicratidas he brought the aid of craft and cunning. He used to say that falsehood was in its nature no worse than truth ; everything depended on the use to which it was applied. This was the man to whom the Spartans entrusted the supreme command against Athens. The struggle was in itself uneven. The Spartans might be defeated, and yet not lost, whereas the very existence of Athens depended on the safety of her wooden walls.

In spite of this the Athenians displayed great want of caution in the management of their affairs. The field of battle was again the Hellespont. Lysander had taken Lamp- sacus ; the Athenians encamped opposite to him at ^Egos- potami. Alkibiades, who was residing in the neighbourhood, rode up to the Athenian camp and advised them to shift their quarters to a point nearer Lesbos, because their ships were separated from each other while fetching provisions from thence. ‘ We are the commanders, not you,’ was the only answer he received. But in the midst of their disorder they were attacked by Lysander, who, by means of frequent feints, had lulled them into a false security. He assailed them now in real earnest. The Athenians were taken by surprise. Of all the commanders Conon alone offered any resistance. Three thousand men of proved courage were taken prisoners and put to death without exception, while no less than seventy ships fell into Lysander’s hands (Oct. 405 B.C.)

This was the blow through which Athens was to fall. There was neither fleet nor army left. Lysander took possession of all the islands. He restored the inhabitants, of ^Egina and Melos to their homes. In this proceeding he enjoyed the aid of Cyrus the younger, who at that time held supreme command over Asia Minor. This circumstance explains the pre-eminence of Lysander in Sparta itself, and the universal anxiety which was felt as to what he would do. His fleetand a Lakedaemonian armyappeared simultaneously before

the city. The Athenians were afraid that they were about to share the fate which they had dealt out to others, and their fears were not groundless. The question was actually discussed whether Athens should be allowed any longer to exist. The Thebans were for expelling the inhabitants of Attica and converting the country into pasture land again ; others, on the contrary, declared, with more justice, that it would be folly to deprive Greece of one of her eyes. The result, however, was that Athens owed her existence to the mercy of Sparta. The Long Walls and the fortifications of the Peirseus were levelled with the soil, to the sound of Spartan military music (April, 404 B.C.) On these conditions alone was Athens suffered to exist.

One can scarcely conceive it possible that Athens should have been annihilated by Sparta and her allies. And yet how was it possible, how was it intended, that she should exist henceforward ? She lost all her foreign possessions and all her naval force with the exception of a few ships. The connexion between town and harbour was broken. Her free constitution, the source of all her opposition to Sparta, was as little likely to be tolerated here as in the other cities which Sparta had conquered. At all times it had been regarded as the conqueror’s privilege to raise his friends and supporters to power in the places over which he had won control. The return of Alkibiades, with all its results, even the last war with Sparta itself, were due to the democracy. It was plain, therefore, that the democracy could exist no longer. The Spartans offered their protection to the party which, before the return of Alkibiades, had wished to make peace and alliance with them. The restoration of the Four Hundred was of course out of the question, and so large a number of rulers was unnecessary. It was enough that the collective authority should come into the hands of the party in which oligarchical tendencies were now embodied. The means adopted in order to accomplish this aim resembled those employed on the former occasion.

A popular assembly was still regarded as representing, in the last resort, the sovereignty of the state. In a popular

assembly, therefore, a committee was again selected, whose business it was to draw up a constitution, but which was to exercise supreme authority until the constitution should be completed. The committee consisted of thirty persons, whose memory is preserved in later history under the title of the Thirty Tyrants. In reality only a third part of them were elected. Twenty were already nominated either by the Lakedaemonians or by the heads of the oligarchical faction. All were, however, accepted by the people. But if their origin must therefore be regarded as constitutional, their subsequent proceedings hardly merit the title. As is frequently the case with constituent bodies, they postponed indefinitely the execution of their task. Meanwhile they kept all authority in their own hands and nominated to all offices of state. The lead among them was taken by Critias, a clever pupil of Socrates, but a man who regarded the possession of power as the highest aim of a statesman. His intention was to purify the state before giving it a constitution. The purification was effected by means of violence and bloodshed. The proscription fell not only on the sycophants of the democracy, but on good and honourable men who were suspected of lukewarmness towards the oligarchy. Greed, as usual, linked itself with political animosity. A Lakedaemonian body-guard lent its aid to the execution of these violent measures. The consequence was that, as no hope of safety appeared, large numbers of persons left the city, and all classes of those who remained behind were thrown into a state of ferment. Critias merely remarked that such was the inevitable result of a great political revolution, and that such a revolution could not be accomplished, especially in a city so populous and so accustomed to independence as Athens, without getting rid of all opponents. In the execution of this policy not even Alkibiades, then residing in Persia, was forgotten.

Alkibiades had come to an understanding with the satrap Pharnabazus, and it was considered possible that he might win him over to the side of Athens. It is very probable that the opponents of the oligarchy at Athens, in their hopes that affairs in general would take a turn, cherished this expectation.

Critias declared that, so long as Alkibiades lived, he coul never finish his work at Athens. Thereupon the Spartan who were old allies of Pharnabazus, appear to have prevaile on the satrap to compass the destruction of Alkibiades. Th latter was just about to make a journey to Susa, to visit th Great King. The house in which he was passing the nigh was surrounded with logs and brushwood, which were the set on fire. In the conflagration which ensued Alkibiade perished. The combination of Persian and Spartan policj which he had himself promoted, at last destroyed the ma who had held in his hand the fate of Athens.

The complexities of human action and passion, or, if w prefer the word, of destiny, are displayed in a manner quit' unique in the career of Alkibiades. Never at heart a citizer but following the dictates of personal ambition, he lived t< see the moment when the might of Athens and his owl greatness appeared to be one and the same. But, checkec in his victorious career, and obliged to defend himself agains political opponents, he turned to the ancient enemies of hi; country. He meant only to destroy those opponents, but hi shattered the foundations of Athenian power. This powei he hoped still to save, by the aid of one of the two foes h( had himself aroused, whom he now alienated from the othei and brought over to his country’s side. But at the very moment when he again appeared at the head of the state and when his hopes seemed near completion, this alliance broke down. The two foes joined hands anew against him and his country, and Athens and Alkibiades fell together.

Among the oligarchs who now divided power in Athens there appeared, in spite of outward unity, certain differences of opinion. Many of those who had brought about the peace with Lakedaemon, and had helped to pass the resolutions which established the dominion of the Thirty, began at last to recoil from the consequences of their own proceedings. Such was the attitude of Theramenes. He made light of the destruction of the Long Walls, for if, said he, the welfare of the city had once demanded their erection, their destruction was equally indispensable. On the other hand he objected to the violent

conduct of Critias, on the ground that the execution of innocent citizens could not but alarm and alienate the rest The Lakedaemonians, he said, could not mean to deprive Athens of her best citizens and of all her resources. Had that been their object it might have been easily attained by stopping the supplies, for sickness, following in the track of famine, would have destroyed the whole population. Hence it appears that Theramenes considered it advisable to maintain a moderate system of government under the protection of Lakedaemon. But failure is sure to be the lot of those politicians who fancy that they can at the same time secure the existence of a community by submission to the enemy, and its domestic well-being by moderation at home, for widespread influence belongs to independent ideas alone.

Critias had made up his mind to prevent the democracy that had caused them so much ill from ever lifting up its head again. In its annihilation he beheld the most important means of maintaining undisturbed the general political situation. In his attempt to bring other tendencies into play, both in the intimate counsels of the Thirty and in the deliberative assembly, Theramenes appeared not only as a deserter but as a traitor to the cause. Critias himself came forward as his accuser, struck his name out of the list of fully qualified citizens, who could only be brought to trial in a regular way, and then of his own authority pronounced against him the sentence of death. Theramenes fled to the altar of Hestia, but was torn away from the sanctuary. He atoned by an heroic death for the blot which "his vacillating attitude had fixed upon his character. In the civil disturbances at Rome his memory was revered by those who, like Cicero, for example, were animated by feelings of a similar kind.

The men of this epoch awaken, even in our own day, sympathy and antipathy, just because the political and religious contrasts which they represent are such as constantly reappear under new conditions and in other forms. The most remarkable effort of the Thirty was that which aimed at establishing a constitution by an act of absolute power. The

whole population, with the cxccption of three thousand persons, was disarmed. These three thousand were not only allowed to keep possession of their weapons, but were also guaranteed the privilege of full citizenship, a privilege which had been refused to Theramencs, and which implied security from violence and from all proceedings but those of a legal nature. Thus constituted, the state consisted of the thirty holders of power, the legal functionaries whom they had appointed, and the selected citizens who retained possession of their arms. It is impossible to conceive anything more unlike the earlier constitution, in which the whole community was endowed with equal rights, while the government was carried on by deliberative bodies proceeding from that community and by officers chosen by lot or elected by the people.

It was not, however, in the nature of things that so vigorous a state as Athens should permanently submit to a rule of violence like this. It often happens that in great political crises there come to light elements of sufficient strength to resist the extremity of the evil even when it appears overwhelming. In this case everything turned upon the fact that Greece in general found the weight of Spartan supremacy intolerable. The satrap of Sardis had sought in the interests of Persia to maintain a balance of power between Athens and Sparta. The Greeks too felt the need of some counterpoise to Sparta, which made use of its preponderance for the most selfish ends. It was in Thebes, hitherto the implacable foe of Athens, that this revulsion of feeling was first apparent The conduct of the Thebans was not in reality so inconsistent as it may at first sight appear. They had begun by proposing the complete annihilation of the Athenian state, which would have given them the control of Attica. Now that the existence of Athens was to be maintained, under a constitution agreeable to Spartan ideas, they exclaimed loudly against this turn of affairs, for thereby Sparta gained a position in the immediate neighbourhood of Thebes which would be fatal to their independence. Lysander was unwilling that the political system lately set up at Athens should be exposed to

attack from exiles. He therefore issued a decree that exiles should not be received into any city that called itself the ally of Sparta. The purport of this measure was plain to all. Thebes refused to obey the command. The democratic exiles from Athens found shelter and protection in oligarchical Thebes. Differences of constitution and distinctions of race alike gave way before higher political interests, and when the exiles, under the leadership of Thrasybulus, a man who had highly distinguished himself towards the end of the conflict with Lakedsemon, made as if they would invade Attica, the Thebans promised to connive at the attempt.

Thrasybulus was thus enabled to march into Attica with a numerous band of exiles, and was joyfully received in the Peirasus, the population of which was of the same mind. The oligarchical party in the city attempted to put down the revolt. Fortunately for the democrats their chief opponent, Critias, " lost his life in the attempt. This success did not, however, give them the command of the city, and their position became critical when Pausanias, the Spartan king, arrived with an army on the scene and at once gained a decisive advantage over them. It now depended entirely on Pausanias under what constitution Athens should continue to exist. At this juncture the Spartans themselves perceived the necessity of keeping an autonomous Athens at their side. The Athenian oligarchy conferred upon Lysander, to whom it owed its foundation and its permanence, a preponderating influence, not only in Athens, but in Sparta as well; and Pausanias feared that the maintenance of this oligarchy might recoil upon himself. The hereditary champion of the oligarchical system in Sparta and in Greece manifested an inclination favourable to democracy in Athens. Under these circumstances an understanding was come to, in consequence of which Thrasybulus and his comrades entered the city (September, 403 B.C.) In the Acropolis itself he passed a resolution to restore the ancient constitution of Athens, together with the Solonian and even the Draconian laws. These laws were modified to some extent, but the changes were of slight importance. The revolution consisted mainly

in this, that an elective council was again substituted for that which had been appointed by a body of irresponsible rulers.

The Athenian system combined democratic and conservative tendencies. The democracy was hallowed by the most ancient national traditions. Its restoration was in accordance with history as well as with the sympathies of the masses. Thrasybulus had been fortunate enough to seize the exact moment when this restoration was possible. But to him and his companions belongs the imperishable glory of having commenced their undertaking with skill and courage in spite of the most unfavourable conditions. Thrasybulus now represented the autonomy of Athens. The Spartan king had only the merit of having allowed its recovery. The Thirty, who had taken up their quarters in Eleusis, no longer supported by Sparta, and deserted by their own friends, gave way before the overwhelming force of their opponents. A general amnesty, which aimed at the reconciliation of oligarchs and democrats, put an end to the universal confusion. It is the first amnesty recorded in history.

Athens was no longer the great naval power of old, possessed of far-reaching authority, and striving for universal empire by sea and land. In the attempt to become the political capital of Hellas she had failed, but the intellectual development, which had accompanied that attempt, was a gain which no misfortune could destroy. Athens had thereby become the metropolis of intellectual culture for the whole human race. Observed from the point of view of universal history, many a movement, whose influence is not universally decisive, may and indeed must be passed over. But that culture which has become the common property of other nations and succeeding centuries will only receive the closer attention.

CHAPTER VIII.

ANTAGONISM AND GROWTH OF RELIGIOUS IDEAS IN GREEK LITERATURE.

The political life, whose main features we have now examined, was accompanied by an intellectual development which manifested itself in literature. These two aspects of national life were closely connected, but not identical. The creations of the intellect, though subject in their origin to the influence of general political conditions, are nevertheless independent in their growth. Greek literature, from the end of the sixth to the second half of the fourth century, presents an intellectual phenomenon of the utmost importance to mankind. The poets and thinkers of Greece attempted to solve the hardest questions connected with the relations of things divine and human; and between them all, while each enquirer made the attempt in his own way, an unbroken connexion may be traced. Their productions, taken together, are of inestimable value to mankind, not so much as a body of teaching and dogma, but as the expression of those great thoughts whence springs the inner life of the intellectual world. It will not, I trust, appear out of place if I introduce into the historical narrative some remarks on this intellectual development.

1. The Older Philosophers in the Colonies, especially in those of the West.

It must not be supposed that contact with oriental conceptions had no effect upon the Grecian world. But there is no historical proof that the mythological and religious systems

of the East had penetrated to Greece and come to light again in the most ancient dicta of Greek philosophy. What influenced the Greek intellect was not oriental mythology, of which there was enough already in Greece, but oriental science. If we consider the Greek cosmogony in its entirety, as conceived and expounded by Hesiod, we shall see that it is diametrically opposed to the astronomy of the Babylonians. This astronomy, passing through the medium of the Phoenicians, made its way at length to Greece. The Ionian colonies were naturally the first affected.

Above the darkness of the ages rises the figure of Thales of Miletus, a man of ancient Phoenician descent, who stands at the head of all Greek philosophers. He is famous for having foretold an eclipse of the sun, and for having invented a theory of the origin of things, which deduced everything from one primary substance—namely, water. These two points are closely connected. The cosmogony of the Greeks was scattered to the winds by the first contact with the science of astronomy, and this gave rise to the attempt to find a realistic basis for the material world in which we live. Thus philosophy soon took up an attitude hostile to mythology. Anaximander declared the countless orbs which he perceived in the sky to be the heavenly gods, but distinguished from these again an eternal and immutable basis or ground of things, which was itself divine.¹ Xenophanes, who at the time of the Median invasion left Ionia, and after many wanderings found a home in the Phoksean colony of Elea, placed himself in direct opposition to the orthodox religion. Among other things Xenophanes rejected the notion of a Golden Age, and held, on the contrary, that man had improved his lot in the course of time. He declared outright his belief that the gods derived their origin from men, not men from the gods, so

¹ Comp. Brandis, Handbuch der griechisch-romisc/tai Philosophic, i. p, 138. Men, according to Anaximander’s theory of their origin, first lived in water like fishes, because they could not have kept themselves alive on dry land 011 account of their helplessness during the first ages of their existence • afterwards, when they took to dry land, they did not become capable of life till they had burst the fishes’ skins in which they were clothed. This theory is doubtless connected with the fish gods of the Phoenicians.

human was the character attributed to the latter. He regarded the rainbow as nothing but a cloud, on which different colours play. These ideas, directly opposed as they were to a belief in the gods, inspired the men of Elea, the pupils of Xenophanes, in the making of their laws. Cos— mogony, religion, and politics were as yet one and the same. About the same time this connexion manifested itself in another place on a greater scale and with more splendour than before.

Pythagoras is a sort of heroic figure in the history of ancient philosophy. The reverence which he inspired became poetical and shrouded his real character in obscurity. His birthplace, Samos, was in his day a central point of international relations, and was in close political connexion with Egypt. Those journeys to distant regions, which tradition attributes to Pythagoras, can hardly have been necessary. Without leaving Samos he could acquaint himself by personal observation with the national characteristics of the East, and gain instruction in Eastern modes of thought. But Samos, where the inhabitants on one occasion threatened to persecute a philosopher because he overthrew an altar sacred to the Universe, was no place for Pythagoras. He betook himself to the Dorian colonies in Southern Italy, and collected in Crotona a school of pupils, who revered him as an infallible master. It is quite possible that oriental traditions may have influenced his teaching, but there is nothing eastern in the essential portion of the Pythagorean doctrine. This doctrine was based upon a perception of the invariable mathematical laws which govern the motions of the heavenly bodies. In these motions numerical relations appeared of such importance that the philosopher, confusing form with substance, fancied he recognised in number a divine creative force which ruled all things from the beginning. Number, whose importance was indubitably manifest in music, appeared in like manner to be the basis of the universal harmony of things. It was but a short step further to speak of the music of the spheres.

In views like these there was no room for that reverence for

the gods which was in vogue among the Greeks. The most ancient authorities agree in saying that Pythagoras set forth, in opposition to the public religion, a secret religion of his own, in which his views of nature, veiled in mysterious and solemn phrases, contradicted all that was ordinarily regarded as truth. I shall not exaggerate the importance of the Pythagorean league if I see in it an institution which successfully opposed the advance of Phoenician superstition, then issuing from Carthage to overflow the western world, and which even exerted an influence on the natural religion of the western nations. It is perhaps an exaggeration of this influence when it is maintained that the teaching of the Druids in Gaul shows traces of Pythagorean doctrine. In the colonies its aristocratic proclivities prepared the way for its downfall.

Meanwhile in the immediate neighbourhood, that is, in Sicily, there appeared a thinker of original power, whose tendencies differed widely from those of Pythagoras. Of all the products of Sicily none, says an ancient poet, was so admirable, none so holy, as Empedocles of Agrigentum. Agri- gentum was at this time a city of exceptional splendour. Its flourishing condition was due to the trade with Carthage, which imported thence the productions of the fertile Sicilian soil. The city, it is said, contained a population, including foreigners, of two hundred thousand inhabitants. It was in this place that Empedocles, who was a member of one of the richest and noblest families in the state, struck out a course for himself both in religion and politics. He overthrew the aristocratic government of the Thousand, who at that time ruled the city. At the very doors of the temple, which its governors had built in honour of Olympian Zeus, of Heracles, and other deities, and whose ruins form, perhaps, the best extant example of early Doric architecture, he unfolded a doctrine which rejected all the gods and attacked their worship with hostility and contempt. His mind applied itself to nature alone, the phenomena of which, as visible not far off in ALtna., were likely to attract special study and attention. Into the doctrine of a primary substance,

which came to Sicily from Ionia, he introduced some consistency through the notion of four elements, which he was the first to distinguish. This fundamental conception, firmly maintained both in ancient and modern times, held its ground until it was overthrown by the discoveries of our own day. Among these elements he gave fire, as a primary force, the most important place. It was in the crater of ^Etna, we are told, that he himself met with his death. Some fragments of his works are still extant, which bear witness to the depth and boldness of his intellect and still afford food for thought.¹ They are less closely connected with Pythagoras than with the notions about Eternal Being, which had been brought into prominence by the followers of Xenophanes in Elea.

This triad of ancient seats of philosophy, Crotona, Elea, and Agrigentum, is very remarkable. In the Graeco-Sicilian colonies those ideas were developed which owed their origin to the contact of Greek and eastern minds in Ionia. They form the foundation of all the philosophy of the human race. But at that time, immediately before the Persian wars or during their continuance, conceptions of this kind could not force their way into the heart of Hellas. In Greece itself reverence for the gods firmly held its ground, and was strengthened by the nature of the struggle with Persia, a struggle deeply tinged throughout its whole course by religious feeling. The victories of the Greeks were at the same time the victories of their gods. But mere dull credulity was not natural to the Greek nation. The echo of those philosophical ideas, which opposed the traditional faith, could not die away without producing some effect. Even if they were not accepted, the thoughtful mind could not fail to see the contradiction between the cosmogony of Hesiod and the Idea of the Divine. The religious conceptions of the day, based on the ancient Greek view which was still on the whole maintained, may best be traced in the writings of the poets.

¹ Empedocles was of opinion that it was not till after various unsuccessful attempts that creatures capable of life were produced ; comp. Zeller, ‘Ueberdie griechischen Vorganger Darwin’s,’ Abhandl. der Konigl. Akademie der Wissensch. zit Berlin, 1S78, p. 115.

Poetry had helped to found the mythological system, arid its influence continued to be felt throughout the conflicts by which that system was gradually modified.

2. Pindar.

The first incentive to the exercise of the poetic art was given by the gymnastic games. Prizes were contested for in these games, in which worship was paid to the gods, and all the powers of the body, as well as the resources which wealth and worldly position could supply, were exerted to the utmost. The Epinikia, or odes in praise of the victors, performed a double task : they added splendour to the act of worship and ennobled the distinguished men who carried off the prize. A happy fate has preserved these odes of victory to our own day. In them we find expressed a condition of mind which can devote itself to the highest ideas without renouncing the traditional worship of the gods. The chief representative of this phase of the Greek intellect is Pindar. It is not to be denied that the systems of Pythagoras and Thales were known to Pindar, or that he appropriated some part of their teaching. But we need not go further into this question. Our object is to discover his general position.

Early mythology, which dealt with the origin of the universe, had been subjected to anthropomorphic tendencies. Pindar intentionally combats the unworthy conception which these tendencies had introduced into the Idea of divine nature. He refuses to believe that the gods were gluttonous, as the story of Tantalus and Pelops would imply. He invents for himself another method for the rescue of Pelops, more in accordance with the Greek temperament. The punishment of Tantalus he deduces from his overweening pride. For the same reason he shrinks from narrating the victories of Heracles over the gods, while he cannot value too highly his other triumphs. Only that which is seemly must be told of the gods. To slight the gods appears to Pindar a kind of madness.

Pindar does his best in all cases to bring into prominence

the religious and moral elements in the legends with which he deals, as, for instance, the modesty and self-restraint displayed by Peleus out of respect for Zeus Xenius, or the pride of Ixion, which brought down upon him the wrath of the gods. To the gods all things are subject. In accordance with this view the ancient story of the struggle between the gods and the Titans is toned down. Typhoeus, the symbol of the lawless forces of nature, as he is represented even in Pindar, is made to appear full of pride and violence, hostile alike to the gods and to the Muses. The gods, in fact, are unapproachable and terrible, but their might rests on moral foundations, answering to the ideals of human existence, and of these ideals Pindar has a lofty conception.

One of his fundamental thoughts is that everything is due to inborn virtue and to natural gifts. We live not all for the same end. The goddess of birth and the goddess of fate, Eileithuia and Moira th'e inscrutable, are united in Pindar’s mind. The virtue conferred on man by fate is in time perfected as fate decrees. He who knows only what he has learnt marches with no certain foot toward his goal; he pursues the most diverse aims and brings nothing to completion. ‘ Become that which thou art,’ says Pindar, and nobler counsel has never been given ; for, indeed, what can a man become but that for which his inborn nature intends him ?

But without toil comes no good fortune ; labour tries the man, and nothing is without the gods. From them comes the ability to bring a thing to completion ; from them come boldness, wisdom, eloquence. Pindar demands of all men modesty and zeal. Jason appears to be a model of all that he admires in man; Jason, who has a rightful claim, but urges it with noble gentleness and youthful modesty; Jason, who shrinks not from the labour laid upon him by the unrightful possessor of the authority that is his own, and who is supported by the gods, by Hera and Poseidon, even by Aphrodite, and above all by Zeus. The heroes in the Argo take courage when they perceive the signs of Zeus that promise them success. In this world, in

which native vigour and laborious toil are favoured by heaven, glory finds its proper place. Talent, virtue, glory, are all really one, or at any rate are found together. Glory is the remedy for toil. Virtue grows, when watered by the words of the wise, as the tree by dew. Song, which issues from the depths of the soul with the favour of the Graces, is the natural accompaniment of noble deeds. If these remain unsung they perish after death. Thus the poet appears in the midst of this world as part and parcel of it, inseparable from the rest. Pindar praises the victors in the games, their families, their fatherland, and the games themselves. He sees all things in their widest mythical, poetical, and national connexion. He connects Kyrene and Rhodes, Syracuse, Agrigentum, and the Epizephyrian Locri with the central point of the national religion, the Omphalus at Delphi.' Men like him did much to keep up the consciousness of Greek nationality.

Pindar can value at their proper worth good fortune and well-being, but he always demands that they shall be combined with some virtue or other, and his songs of praise are interspersed with warnings. In the same light he regards the future beyond the grave. He differs widely from all his predecessors in representing evil deeds as punished by a ¹ remorseless doom,’ while the good, honoured by the gods to whom they have kept their word, behold the same sun night and day and brighten with tales and memories their mutual converse. The future life which Pindar imagines is, like his conception of the present, an endless festival after the games. Elsewhere he makes the spirits of the wicked wander to and fro between earth and heaven, while he places the spirits of the just in heaven itself, ‘ praising the mighty dead.’²

When we turn our gaze upon the material conditions which are brought to light in the poetry of Pindar, the old aristocratic

¹ ‘ dfMpakSs dicebatur lapis albus in adyto templi in quo duse aquilse aure^e.’ They showed the presence of Zeus, who presided over the oracle. On the myth of the meeting of the two eagles ⁱ a finibus terras⁵ comp, Dissen on Pyth. iv, § ii- 219.

² Ma.Ka.pa fieyav ae/Soyr’ iv 8/j.vots. Threni iii, in Bockh (Bergk, Poetcz Lyrici Graci, p. 291, fragm. 97).

TT 2

world of the Greeks comes before our eyes in all its splendour.¹ On all sides are to be seen wealthy and distinguished families, rich enough to keep a four-horsed chariot. It adds to the fame of the family that the colts were broken under their own hands. The masters themselves put on them the shining harness ; then they call upon Poseidon, and spur their horses to their highest speed. Pindar shows us even the domestic life of those he celebrates. In him, as in Homer, we see the walls surrounding the outer court; within it stands the building itself, its roof supported by pillars ; and last of all the ‘ oikos,’ the human dwelling, in which the feast is spread when the games are done.

All these families, great and small, trace their origin to the gods. The Euneidse in Athens, a family whose calling it was to attend sacred processions as dancers and lute- players, traced their descent from Euneus, the son of Jason. The lamidse, a family endowed with prophetic gifts, were descended from Apollo : to this family belonged Tisamenus, the soothsayer of the Spartans.² On Mount Pelion dwelt the Cheironidse, a race who devoted themselves to the science of medicine and traced their origin to the Cheiron of Homer. We see the physicians handing soothing potions to the sick, or binding up the wounded limbs with medicinal herbs, and uttering meanwhile a kind of charm—a class not unwilling to make profit of their skill.

Everything in Pindar has a dignity and character of its own. The clan of the Aleuadee, at whose head stand three brothers, rules the republic of Thessaly. In the towns hereditary government is to be seen, and affairs are conducted wisely by good men. The ode to Thrasydseus of Thebes is written with the intention of warning him to shrink from any attempt to set up a tyranny.

The poet, though a native of Thebes, shows especial preference for yEgina. Asopus, a river of Bceotia, was regarded

¹ Pindar indicates very unreservedly the different constitutions, the tyrannis, the rule of the unbridled people (Adppos (rrpards), the rule of the wise. In his opinion fairness and wisdom are always the best {Pyth. iii.)

* ^f Olympias in ara Jovis maxima oraculi pr?esides vatesque hereditario jure fuerunt.’—Bockh, ii. 2, p. 152.

as father of the two sisters ^Egina and Thebe, while between Heracles, whose shrine was in the house of Amphitryon at Thebes, and the ^Eakidse in ^Egina is said to have existed of old a brotherhood of arms. The alliance between Thebes and the warlike ^Egina had in reality an origin and reason of quite another kind, but Pindar’s gaze is always directed upon those ties which unite mankind with the heroes and the gods. In Pindar, too, everything has its peculiar virtue : ^Egina, for example, is famed for having produced the champions most distinguished in war, and for being at the same time a seat of righteousness.

At the time of the battle of Marathon Pindar was over thirty years old ; at the time of the battle of Salamis he was over forty. He had taken up his position while still very young, and had formed himself before the outbreak of the war with Persia, in which, as a Theban, he took no part. He lays before us the broad characteristics of Greek society, as that society was constituted before the conclusion of the Persian wars,

3. JEschylns.

^Eschylus was a contemporary of Pindar, probably a few years older than the latter, but he was an Athenian. In politics he was no democrat, but rather an aristocrat by birth, for he came of a noble family in Eleusis. In the war, however, men of all parties in Attica fought side by side. .(Fschylus took his share in the battles of Marathon, Salamis, and Platsea, and could show honourable scars from the wounds which he had received. His works belong entirely to the new period, which begins after the Persian wars. They present to us all the internal ferment of the Greek mind. From the stage of the newly created theatre, another offspring of religious festivals, ^Eschylus draws the masses into the thick of intellectual strife. He has no particle of the gentle and con^ ciliatory spirit that distinguishes Pindar.

In the ‘ Prometheus Bound,’ one of the boldest and most original dramas that have ever been written, ^Eschylus approaches the great questions ahout the world and the gods

from the point of view offered by the myth of the Titans. To the primeval deities and their creations, which have been conquered and all but annihilated by Zeus, belongs man. He, too, is destined to annihilation, or at any rate would have been condemned to a miserable and bestial existence in sunless dens, had not his part been taken by one of the Titans, who had allied himself with Zeus against the rest. Prometheus brings men fire, and through fire they arrive at a knowledge of the arts. He teaches them to distinguish the seasons of the year, and to subdue the wild beasts to their service; he shows them how to build houses and to sail the sea; he strengthens and sharpens their understanding. In Prometheus, at once Titan and god, is to be seen a personification of the human intellect, which in its origin is independent of Zeus and the twelve greater gods. The Greek deities had come victorious out of the struggle with the Persian. yEschylus acknowledged their dominion, but scarcely their omnipotence, still less the justice of such omnipotence. The piece that we are examining breathes throughout a lofty solitude, where elements and ideas alone come into conflict. Therein appears the spirit of man, with its inherent vigour, as one of the Titans, who, unlike the rest of his fellows, has not been vanquished by the gods. The dominion of the victorious deities, who have only baffled the forces of nature by the exercise of powers resembling those of man, is new and therefore violent. Henceforward no one is free excepting Zeus. He pronounces judgment; he is the absolute ruler, responsible to none. His one opponent he subjects to a chastisement of pain, which is renewed day by day. He would kill him if he had the power ; but Prometheus knows that he has forces on his side which lie beyond the tyranny of the present. Rather than submit he will suffer and wait till this tyranny has run its course. We leave him in the midst of an earthquake, in which sea and sky are mingled together, calling once more the primeval powers to witness the injustice which he has to bear.

Here, at the very threshold of dramatic poetry, we find the spirit of man pictured in outlines whose grandeur has never been surpassed—that ambitious, defiant spirit of invin

cible courage which stands upon its rights, which never gives way, which .behind every outward form of things foresees the advent of another. We can never cease to regret that the second part of the trilogy, the ‘ Prometheus Unbound,’ is not extant. In this stage, where the riddle comes before us in its crudest and sharpest form, the answer would have been more than ever instructive. All that we know of the play is that Prometheus speaks the word which secures Zeus in his dominion. As a sign of his subjection he wears a wreath of withy, the tree whose twigs are generally employed as bonds.

A similar contrast makes itself apparent in the other dramas of^Eschylus. In the ‘Seven against Thebes’ the motive of the plot is the religious contrast between the besiegers and the defenders of the city. The besiegers disregard the unfavourable omens of sacrifice ; they boast that they will take the city whether the gods will it or no. On their shields they bear the symbols of pride, as, for instance, a picture of Typhoeus vomiting forth smoke and flame. On the other hand, the defenders of the city cling to the protection of the gods with a fervour that is even troublesome to their commander. A splendid figure is Eteocles, a man resolute and circumspect, who feels sure of victory through the favour of the gods in the face of all his enemies’ pride. He has the advantage over Polyneikes in that he defends his native altars and his fatherland. But beyond the conflict his fate awaits him. The Erinyes, aroused by the unholy marriage, are yet unappeased, and to them he falls a victim in the moment of victory.

Another aspect of victory through alliance with the gods appears in the ‘ Persians.’ The fall of Xerxes is the result of the crime which he committed in stripping the statues of the gods, and in burning their temples, and of his violence in aspiring to bind the river of God, the Bosporus and the sacred Hellespont. His father is called up from the underworld to foretell his fate. The land was now, as the poet adds, allied with the gods, and endowed with wisdom and untiring courage.

We may be permitted to take a glance at the other dramas of ^Eschylus from the same point of view. In the

‘ Suppliants' the king would doubtless be regarded as the protagonist. At any rate everything depends upon the resolution which he takes when the suppliants threaten to destroy themselves at the very feet of the statues of the gods. He decides to protect them rather than permit such a defilement of the land. He ventures this step in conjunction with his people, though aware that it will involve him in war. The following play, the ‘ Danaids,’ of which only a few verses are preserved, no doubt showed that his expectations were hot deceived. The relations between gods and men receive special illustration in this drama from the way in which the gods of the country at one time ward off the foreigner and at another take him into their protection. With such great contrasts our poet is always concerned.

Into the depth of these contrasts we are introduced in the ¹ Oresteia.’ The first choric ode of the ‘Agamemnon ’ brings the old conflict of the gods to our recollection. The chorus sides with him who has been thrice victorious in this conflict, with Zeus, whoever he may be, Zeus, who leads men by suffering to thought. The plot depends on Agamemnon’s resolution to appease the wrath of Artemis by the sacrifice of his child. He bows to necessity, and, as he does so, thoughts unholy and criminal come into his mind. The chorus relates with sympathetic horror how the evil deed was done upon the innocent child. In this religion there is a strange contradiction in that, in order to please the gods, it is necessary to do that which is evil. Agamemnon at length returns, covered with glory, his task accomplished ; but vengeance awaits him in his own home. The murderess, magnificent in the studied composure with which she carries out her plan, can at least say that her hand fulfils only the ends of justice, that it is her spouse who has brought evil on the house. The chorus does not venture to deny her plea. It is only against her immoral connexion with ^Egisthus, and against ^Egisthus himself, who has polluted the hero’s bed and then helped in his murder, that they pour forth their rage and horror. It is this sin which brings vengeance on the guilty pair. Apollo will not allow the union between man and wife, a union sanctified by the

favour of Zeus and of Hera, the goddess of wedlock, to be dishonoured in this fashion. By every kind of encouragement and threat he urges on the son of the murdered man to slay the murderers in like manner as they slew his father.

The play of the ‘ Choephoroe' shows how Orestes carries out the oracular command. He slays yEgisthus. As he is about to slay his mother, and as she kneels before him, he hesitates a moment; his friend urges him on, for no word of Apollo, says he, may remain unfulfilled; it were better to have all else against one than the gods. But hardly has the horrid deed been done when Orestes feels himself under the control of another power. Apollo has promised him that he shall be free from guilt; but this does not save him from the results of his action. He feels his senses at once go astray, like a chariot carried out of its course in the race, and the Furies, the avengers of his mother, their heads wreathed with serpents, throw themselves upon him like savage hounds.

The Furies are the daughters of ancient Night. They did not pursue Clytsemnestra, because she was of different family from Agamemnon; but to exact vengeance for a deed of blood, like that which the son had done upon the mother, is the object of their existence. That is their office and their prerogative, and the whole world would be out of joint if they did not fulfil it. When Apollo takes the part of the wretched man, whom his oracular reply has induced to brave this danger, their wrath is aroused against the new gods, by whom they are robbed of the honour due to them, and whose new-fangled laws are to upset the ancient order of the world. They refuse to give way to Apollo, though he appeals to Zeus; or to Pallas, with whom Orestes has taken refuge, though they recognise her wisdom. Who, then, is to decide between the justice of the primeval world and the decrees of the new gods, between the violation of the marriage tie, which is the province of the latter, and the violation of filial duty, over which the former preside ? Strange to say, ^Eschylus lays the decision before a human tribunal. The votes are equally divided, but the goddess in whose hands the right to decide in such a case is acknowledged to lie gives her vote for Orestes. His

cause is also that of the gods themselves : the ground of the verdict is the will of Zeus alone. A still more important point, treated with such detail as to show clearly the weight attached to it by the poet, is that the Erinyes, though on this occasion they are baulked of their prey, are to be revered for all future time. No house, it is agreed, can prosper without them, and the lot of the man who does them honour will be blessed.

These are scenes out of the conflict between things human and divine, between the powers of nature, which have a moral weight, and laws which have a later origin. It is these laws which get the upper hand. The gods are powers which must be acknowledged and revered, because they have jurisdiction over men, and can confer blessings on them if they will. ^Eschylus leads us into the thick of the struggle, which Pindar looks back upon after its close. The ideal of yEschylus is activity and courage. The ideal of Pindar is rest and glory when the prize is won.

The dramatic poet and his audience, which in this case is the people, constantly act and react upon each other. The thoughts which yEschylus expressed gain a peculiar historical value from the fact that they were understood and echoed by the people. But he had at last to discover that he was no longer in sympathy with them. The judges chosen out of the ten tribes adjudged the prize to a younger rival, Sophocles, who was his junior by thirty years. The spirit of the age was ripe for a change in the mode of representation as well as in the subjects represented on the stage.

4. Sophocles.

In Sophocles I do not discover that severance between the gods and the powers of the primeval world of which yEschylus is so full. Such thoughts as these are alien to his age and to its views of life. Nor, again, do I discover any actual conflict with the gods, such as that undertaken by the Seven or by other heroes in yEschylus. The utmost to which the characters of Sophocles can be incited is a sort of defiant trust in their

own powers, such, for instance, as appears in Aias. But great destinies are not affected by this conduct: they are independent of all human interference.

In the drama of ‘ CEdipus Rex ’ no guilt rests upon the king. There is no mention even of any earlier crime which might be still crying for vengeance. CEdipus is a king, who has been elected because he freed the city from the hideous toll exacted by the Sphinx. He enjoys the fullest reverence as the first of men, universally trusted in all kinds of difficulties. When the troubles begin he distinguishes himself nobly by his care for the community in general, and for every individual among his subjects. But a fate impends of which he knows nothing. The royal house of Thebes, when evil is foretold by the oracle, do all in their power to hinder its fulfilment, but by these very efforts bring about the disaster they would avoid. The mother exposes her son ; the son, arrived at manhood, flees from his supposed parents : yet each helps to fulfil his destiny. The tragedy of CEdipus is full of living dramatic interest. CEdipus, conscious of perfect innocence, and asserting that innocence in terms of passionate indignation, seeks to discover the secret of the evil by which the city is oppressed. He searches far and wide until the hideous truth is known, and an act revealed on which the sun ought never to have shone, and which no water can wash away. Happiness, genuine happiness, turns to misery and tears, and CEdipus is forced to regard himself as the man of all others most hateful to the gods. He puts out his own eyes in order to escape from the community of earthly things and creatures. The ordinances of nature, which appear in Sophocles as the ordinances of the gods, have been violated by his birth. They can only be restored by his annihilation.

It is equally impossible to discover any guilt worthy of punishment in Deianeira and Heracles. The ‘ Trachinise,’ as the piece is called, ends with an outspoken indictment of the gods. In this play, too, there hangs over all the shadow of a terrible fate, which is brought to pass by the very effort to avoid it. The slaying of the centaur Nessus, on which everything turns, cannot be regarded as a guilty deed ; for his

death was but the punishment which he deserved. As little can the connexion of Heracles with Iole be regarded in this light, for that would be opposed to Greek ideas. The approach of fate reveals no cause of misfortune except a terrible destiny. It would be a mistake to say that in all - cases guilt must be forthcoming to account for the course of events, for destiny accomplishes itself independently of such justification. It was one of the merits of Heracles that he ridded the world of a centaur at once violent and lustful. But the slain centaur leaves a legacy behind him, in consequence of which the hero who chastised him is doomed to perish. There is no moral lesson to be learnt here ; the gods see the approach of fate, but do not defend even their own offspring from the blow.

In the ‘Aias’ the insulted goddess goes so far as to drive the hero into madness, to make his life intolerable to him, and afterwards to boast of the deed. Nor can we see any sufficient cause for the woes of Philoctetes. The only reason why he should linger for nine long years in agony and solitude is that Troy is not to be taken till the tenth. There is no severance here between the gods and fate. On the contrary, these powers have struck a terrible alliance, to which men can only submit. ‘ In all that happens there is nothing in which the highest divinity does not play a part.’ Nor can we doubt that these views corresponded to the received opinions of the day. There is no choice but submission to the gods, whose sway is unapprochable and absolute. The oracles have a dread reality ; their responses are universally believed, however unexpected their fulfilment may be.

The poet, convinced of the nothingness of human existence, believes in the necessity of submission, and considers it his duty to confirm the people in the same belief. But the stage would become intolerable if all its efforts were directed only to display the development of fate. Such is by no means the intention of Sophocles : he prefers to lay the chief stress upon the bearing of a man when he meets his end. CEdipus displays the elevation of a noble resolve originating in self-abhorrence. Aias, who at one time seems inclined to submit,

puts an end to his own life, and prepares for the deed in a soliloquy of unequalled grandeur. In the ‘ Trachiniae ’ the psychological motive of the play is to be found in the character of Deianeira, who, though not devoured by jealousy, seeks to secure her husband’s affections by means to all appearance harmless, but, at the very moment when she comes to this decision, begins again to doubt, and perishes before the man whose death she has occasioned.

Sophocles always weaves one or other of the strongest motives of personal life into his tragedies. In the ‘Trachiniae ’ it is the affection of a wife, in the ‘ CEdipus at Colon us’ the affection of a daughter. In the ‘ Antigone ' is displayed a sister’s love, in the ‘ Aias ’ the manlyand successful devotion of a brother. Sophocles possessed one advantage over yEschylus in being able to employ a third actor, the so-called Tritagonist. He was thus enabled to give more distinctness to his characters, and to place them in all their variety and individuality before our eyes. The special merit of this poet consists in his complete illustration of the hidden but simple motives of human action.

In the‘Antigone’as well as in the ‘Electra’we are reminded of yEschylus. In the first of these two pieces, as in yEschylus, the rights of Dike, of the under-world, and of the Erinyes appear inviolable. But in Sophocles Zeus and Dike are allied. The*contradiction which disturbs the world makes its appearance in Creon. He can hardly be charged with injustice in aiming a stern command against the man who has marched with hostile intent upon the city of his fathers. But by this severity he offends the eternal and unapproachable powers. He refuses burial to the dead, though Hades has a sort of right to demand it. He displays his cruelty in condemning to death the sister who has performed the ceremony of burial in spite of his prohibition, although she belongs to the gods of the upper and visible world. His son, to whom the maiden is betrothed, is thereupon brought on the stage, and his character portrayed in rapid touches. Full as he is of respect for paternal authority, sympathy for his mistress drives him into suicide. The character of Antigone, in which

reverence for the divine, haughty resentment against the powers that be, and graceful maidenly reserve are mingled, is indeed inimitable. Her act has public opinion on its side though that opinion hardly dares to make itself heard. It receives approval from the retainers of the house, and last of all from the blind seer, who appears as the interpreter of the laws of Heaven. Creon accomplishes his own ruin by resisting all persuasion till it is too late.

Sophocles keeps iEschylus nowhere more clearly before his eyes than in the ' Electra.’ The subject is the same as that of the ‘ Choephorce.’ The most prominent motive which serves to bring on the development, namely, the dream of Clytemnestra and her consequent resolution to make an offering to the shade of the murdered man, is borrowed from ^Eschylus, together with the false report of the death of Orestes. But in spite of this similarity a profound difference is throughout apparent. The threads are cut short just at the point where they are connected with the great whole which ^Eschylus has in his mind. There is no mention here of the Furies who in yEschylus seize upon Orestes. In the dream that Agamemnon’s sceptre puts forth fresh buds the act of Orestes is prefigured as a reassertion of his hereditary rights. No trace is to be found in Sophocles of that contrast between the murder of ^Egisthus and the murder of Clytsemnestra which forms the very foundation of the earlier play. The poet approves the act, and regards it as an act of justice. The main interest of the play centres in the character of Electra. She it was who saved Orestes, and this act subjects her to treatment of the most oppressive nature, which seems likely to end in something worse. Still she refuses to submit: she impersonates wisdom and goodness attacked by evil. From fear of Zeus she keeps to what is lawful, but she is on the point of resolving to attempt the deed of vengeance, when the brother whom she believed to be dead appears. Sophocles takes great pains to develop in detail the character of Electra in her relation to her sister, her mother, and her brother. At the moment when the latter is about to do the deed she incites him, with masculine and even cruel vehemence, to carry out

his purpose. To accomplish her revenge she uses deceit, and mingles her deceit with savage irony. She is the very daughter of Clytsemnestra as she appears in the ‘ Agamemnon ’ of ^Eschylus.

Resistance to tyrannical power is altogether a peculiar element in Sophocles. It appears in Aias, in Hsemon and Teiresias, in CEdipus, and most of all in Antigone. The contrast between eternal justice and a law which is the offspring of caprice is nowhere more clearly marked than in Sophocles. The .spirit of these plays is directly opposed to the unmitigated dominion of political interests, which combine force and fraud, while sufferings due to such a cause acquire a special character and arouse the most intense sympathy. Creon in ‘ CEdipus Rex ’ is a figure worth examining from this point of view. The difference between the personal influence of a man in high position and mere official authority is aptly pointed out, and the preference given to the former. What gives the play of ‘ Philoctetes ’ its special meaning is the fact that Neoptolemus, after promising Odysseus at the outset that he will employ craft and cunning to obtain the end which they have in view, returns to his better self and to the law of humanity, and refuses to serve in such a cause. He is a young man of frank and open character, who abhors the ways of secrecy. In the same spirit the seer tells CEdipus that he is not in the service of the king, but in the service of God. The reverence due to the state and the reverence due to God are here opposed to each other, and urge their respective claims as they do throughout the whole of history. Sophocles constantly reveres the unwritten laws of the gods. Olympus is their father; they are begotten in the everlasting aether ; they are not the mere offspring of human intelligence, nor can they ever be forgotten.

It is perhaps only the ancient quarrel renewed upon another field. It becomes clearer and more instructive by being brought down into the region of the human from that of the divine, and represented as a conflict between the moral powers and the empire of the day. The poet’s voice is always raised in behalf of the established political system, of those ideas on

which the fabric of society rests, on the reverence due to the gods: on these things none may lay his hand. But the atmosphere of thought is already imbued with political feeling. When Menelaus was honoured in Sparta as a Spartan hero, and Aias in Athens as an Athenian, it cannot be mere chance that, they are opposed to each other in the play, and that Menelaus, expressly called a king of Sparta, is portrayed in so disadvantageous a light. The subject of the ‘ CEdipus at Colonus ' is the contrast between Thebes, which banishes her king, and Athens, which receives him and provides him with a grave. The religious feeling and prudent moderation that distinguish Athens are represented as the sources of her grandeur and success. Theseus is a highly gifted and kingly nature ; his conduct is rewarded by promises which foretell the safety and future greatness of Athens. But, while touching this string, the poet is only the more eager to adorn the death of the ill-fated CEdipus with all the graces of dramatic representation. The conflict of his soul between love for the daughters who tend him and hatred for the son who has expelled him is at once elevated and terrible. The political relations are overshadowed by the ideal representation of a tragic fate, and are forgotten by the spectator.

In these plays the narratives are especially successful, but the dialogue vies with them in its argumentative power, while the soaring flight of the choric odes is not to be excelled. The language of Sophocles is the most solid, the purest, the most beautiful which has ever served to express the emotions of the human spirit.

5. Euripides.

Euripides was too young to strive with /Eschylus for the dramatic prize ; his immediate predecessor and rival was Sophocles. Twelve years after the appearance of the latter, Euripides, then twenty-five years old, brought his first piece upon the stage. The extant plays of these two dramatists are nearly contemporary, beginning with the date 440 B.C. in the one case and with 438 B.C. in the other. The greater part

of them were brought out during the time of the Peloponnesian war.

Euripides, like his predecessors, seized upon the material supplied by the legends of gods and heroes, in which the nation had enshrined its ideas of heavenly and earthly things. In the way in which he approaches the question he is far removed from ^Eschylus. Like Sophocles and Pindar, he regards the Olympian gods as absolute rulers. He says nothing of the struggle between the gods and the powers of nature, or of the contrast between a dominant but artificial order of the world and the physical and intellectual forces, which have succumbed in the conflict. But if we would obtain a definite idea of his peculiar mode of thought, which was, or at least became, the thought of his age, we must not shun the labour of examining in detail the internal composition of his plays.

What appears as an exception in the ‘ Aias ’ of Sophocles —namely, the personal share taken by the goddess in the hero’s misfortunes—is in Euripides the rule, Phaedra falls in love with Hippolytus,- as Aphrodite confesses, by her advice. It is Hera by whom Heracles, having performed the tasks laid upon him by Eurystheus, is driven into madness : Iris herself brings Lyssa, the daughter of Night, to destroy him. The destinies of Iphigeneia and Macaria are what they are because offerings have to be made to Artemis and to Demeter. Achilles himself appears as a god when he restrains the Grecian ships on the eve of their departure from Troy till Polyxena is sacrificed in his honour. Neoptolemus has to die for the insult he has done to Apollo, be his repentance so deep as it will; at the critical moment a voice from the inmost shrine demands his death. That Apollo is the author of all the ills which fall upon the head of Orestes is more harshly apparent here than even in yfischylus.

The chief motive in the tragedy of Euripides is, in fact, the personal hatred of the gods. Yet this hatred has no further justification ; it provokes no real resistance ; it merely determines the lot of men. It is of essential importance that the events of the play are introduced by a prologue, and that the catastrophe is brought about by the sudden appearance of a

306 philosophy and literature.

god. Between these two points the heroes move to and fro in human wise ; but with all their impulses, their passions, their virtues, and their thoughts they exercise no decisive influence on the event.

These conditions lend to some of the plays of Euripides, for instance, the ‘Troades,’ an inexhaustible charm. The subject of this play is the allotment of the captive women after the conquest of Troy and the slaughter of the one surviving scion of the royal house who might be expected to attempt the restoration of the city. The Greeks perform the work of destruction with the strictest logical completeness. But, with happy intuition, Euripides extends the scope of his prologue on this occasion far beyond the point to which the spectator is led in the drama itself. Prophecies of evil to come make themselves heard through all the din of victory, and one is made aware that these cruel conquerors are themselves doomed to destruction. Nothing can be more impressive than the hymeneal ode which Cassandra sings for herself. She has the inspired conviction that it is through his union with her that the destroyer is to be destroyed. Euripides took his model from the complete destruction of conquered cities, which in Greece was the order of the day, and in which many a woman must have shared the fate of Hecuba.

In Euripides I am especially struck by the contrast between barbarians and Hellenes, agreeing in the main with the conception of that contrast which we find in Herodotus. It appears in the ‘ Medeia,’ in the ‘ Iphigeneia in Tauris,’ and even in those pieces which are taken from the cycle of Trojan legend. Euripides reckons even the Trojans as barbarians. They are distinguished by looser modes of thought, by more splendid clothing, by unconditional obedience to their lords, by a certain coarseness of character. Between them and the Hellenes no friendship can exist. The object with which the Greeks sail to Troy is that they may strike a blow at barbarism.

Euripides does not take the trouble to adapt his plays to the past times of the heroic world, but transfers to his heroes the conditions which he sees before his eyes. Several of his

dramatic complications rest upon mistakes in which the art of writing is concerncd. Theseus and Heracles talk philosophy about the nature of the gods. Euripides transplants not only the political but the domestic conditions of his day into the heroic world, and in handling great destinies he develops the sentiments of each member of the different families. In the play of j'Eschylus on the war against Thebes the whole stress is laid upon the disposition of Eteocles alone. But Euripides in the ‘ Phcenissae ’ brings the mother on the stage, though according to other tradition she had long been dead, and represents her as trying to reconcile the unnatural brothers. In the ‘ Orestes ' the uncle and his restored spouse interfere with decisive effect; the aged Tyndareus and the whole royal house appear. So too in the ‘ Andromache ’ Peleus is contrasted with his obstinate granddaughter-in-law, while in the ‘ Iphigeneia in Aulis ’ we see father and uncle, mother and bridegroom, play their different parts.

The play of ' Electra,’ in spite of the lofty and mythical nature of its subject, gives one almost the impression of a tragedy of domestic life. Electra is living in virgin wedlock ; in her home the scene of the whole play is laid. Mythical tone and colour are sacrificed to a less ambitious realism. Both Sophocles and Euripides represent Electra as at strife with Clytsemnestra, but while the former lays stress upon the idea of justice the latter dwells on the one hand on the connexion between Agamemnon and Cassandra, and on the other on the cruel treatmentof Clytaemnestra’s children, resulting from her marriage with yEgisthus. Regarding affairs from this point of view, it is not surprising that Euripides should have framed a sort of domestic philosophy : at any rate we find constantly in him reflections of a domestic kind which may be worked into a consistent scheme.

Domestic feeling is the groundwork of the ‘ Medeia' and the ‘ Phaedra,’ which may be regarded as his most successful plays. Medeia may well be compared with the Deianeira of Sophocles, but while the latter only seeks to secure her husband's affections Medeia directs all her fury against her rival and her own children. She has no desire to kill Jason ; all that she wishes

to compass is the ruin of his happiness. The future bliss he aims at building up for himself, in despite and in contempt of his former love, fills her soul with savage resolution. There is nothing in the range of poetry at once more pregnant and more terrible than the farewell which Medeia takes of her children. It cannot be called a mental conflict, for she has no doubts ; she is fully conscious of her love for her children and expresses it with the utmost warmth, but her fury and her hate are stronger still, and she sacrifices her offspring in spite of all her love, like the barbaric lioness she is. As to the ‘ Phaedra,’ it has long ago been pointed out how far the development of passion is carried in that play beyond all possibility of imitation in later times.

Euripides, with all his defects, is one of the most powerful and inventive poets that have ever lived. There is no single piece of his which did not charm the spectator with the glamour of some thrilling situation. To the rich material of heroic legend, which was employed by his predecessors, he added the cycle of myths that centred round Heracles, and made it completely his own. In all that he writes he seeks to bring into prominence some human interest, and especially those points which give rise to a conflict of passions. The innocence of youthful manhood engaged in the service of the temple, or its fresh and manly courage displayed in field sports and the chase, maidenly self-sacrifice to a great idea, as in Iphigeneia and Polyxena, or wifely devotion for a husband, as in Alkestis, are portrayed in touches as imperishable as those which illustrate the pangs of jealousy or the fury of passion.

I know not if Euripides attained to what the theory of tragedy demands ; he was at any rate a poet of the keenest sensibility and the greatest talent, which he employed with infinite success. During his lifetime the fame and popularity of his works had reached to Sicily. They spread gradually through the whole circumference of the Greek and afterwards of the Roman world, either directly or by means of imitations. It has been justly remarked that they form one of the most important elements of later culture, and it is certain that they have contributed not a little to mould existing opinion.

We shall therefore be justified in alluding once more to the phase of religious thought to which they give expression. Euripides sides with Pindar, who refused to believe in the feast of Tantalus. His Iphigeneia says that they must have been murderous wretches who laid such things to the charge of the gods. In the conversation between Theseus and Heracles, to which allusion has already been made, the one is highly offended by the marriage of brother and sister in the case of Zeus and Hera, and by the chaining of Kronos, while the other holds these stories to be mere poetical inventions.

But it is not so easy to explain away the immoral acts of the gods when, as generally happens, they are of the essence of the piece. In such cases mankind, who suffer at the hands of the gods, show no scruple in blaming them. Even the pious Ion is offended when they who make the laws refuse to keep the laws. He attacks the sanctuary which guarantees impunity to the transgressor. In the ‘ Andromache ’ Apollo is accused of acting like an evil man, in whom an old quarrel rankles still. In the ‘ Hippolytus ’ we are told that it is through boldness and violence, and not through piety, that man accomplishes his end. In the ‘ Bellerophon ’ we are told that the weak, however pious they may be, have to submit to the strong. ‘ There are no gods/ he exclaims ; ‘ they have no existence.’

It is clear that only a philosophical spirit like this could free itself from the trammels of a traditional religion, often indistinguishable from superstition. As Heracles says, in the place alluded to above, ‘ the God who is verily God has no wants.’ Euripides is in doubt whether we are to find the necessity of things in God or in the human spirit. ‘ Custom and law lead us to recognise the existence of the gods, but right and wrong owe their distinction to men.’ Nothing can be more opposed to the idea of the Eumenides, as conceived by ^Eschylus, than the declaration of Orestes in the play of Euripides that it was his evil conscience that pursued him, and that he was fully aware of what he had done. Justice is the daughter of Time: in due course she brings all wickedness to light. Earth and heaven begat all things ; the earthly returns

to earth, the immaterial to heaven. The happiest man is he who beholds the universal laws which rule imperishable things.

One may fairly say that, by this kind of treatment, legendary heroic history, the great intellectual possession of the nation, was shaken to its foundations and all but destroyed. It would have been better to portray men directly, as they appeared in real life, than to transplant them, with all their actions and their omissions, into the heroic world. After such changes as these philosophy and history had become indispensable.

6. Herodotus and Thukydides.

Herodotus and Thukydides stand in much the same chronological relation to each other as Sophocles and Euripides. Herodotus was the elder of the two : according to an ancient calculation, often disputed but never displaced by any sounder hypothesis, he was fifty-three years old, and Thukydides forty, at the beginning of the Peloponnesian war. But the situations and fortunes of the two men who laid the foundations of historical science and historical composition were widely different, or rather were diametrically opposed.

Herodotus was born on the coast of Asia, in a city which stood in close commercial and political connexion with the oriental peoples, to the examination of whose history he naturally devoted part of his life. Thence he migrated to Samos, the great metropolis of trade, and afterwards to Athens, then at the climax of her maritime power. He was a stranger in Athens, but he attached himself to the Athenians with his whole heart and with warm admiration. Thukydides, on the contrary, was a born Athenian. A man of distinguished birth, he had attained to one of the most important posts in the state, the independent command of a naval squadron. But he was on one occasion unfortunate enough to allow the Peloponnesians to forestall him, and to occupy Amphipolis about twenty-four hours before he arrived. Through this failure he forfeited the favour of the Athenian

people, at that time under the headlong guidance of a democratic leader. He was punished by exile, and passed the rest of his life on a hereditary property which belonged to him, partly under the protection of the Lakedsemonians. This misfortune enabled him to undertake, under peculiarly advantageous conditions, the history of the war, a project which he had already formed at the beginning of the struggle. No longer confined to the reports and narratives that passed current in his native city, he was able to form a fair notion and to give an impartial account of the course of affairs. Though an exile, his natural impulse was still to give the preference to Athens ; though an Athenian, he had nevertheless good ground for regarding the proceedings of his countrymen without any one-sided patriotism.

No less important is the second distinction between these two great authors. Herodotus spent his life in watching the mighty conflict between Persia and Greece, which, as he wrote, occupied the attention of the world. Thukydides was drawn into the thick of the struggle among the Greeks themselves, and especially that between Athens and Sparta. It is true that the internal rivalries of Greece are mentioned by Herodotus, while the conflict between Greeks and Persians is referred to by Thukydides, but in Herodotus the former, in Thukydides the latter, is kept in the background. Herodotus bestowed especial attention on the joint effort abroad, Thukydides on the internecine conflict at home.

Herodotus was primarily a traveller. His native city, Halicarnassus, took part in founding the commercial settlement at Naucratis, through which the trade with Egypt was thrown open to the Greeks. One may suppose that it was this connexion which first attracted the gaze of Herodotus to Egypt, and which afterwards secured him a favourable reception in that country even when the connexion had ceased to exist. He was the first foreigner who bestowed on the monuments of Egypt the attention they deserved ; he visited Phoenicia and beheld the wonders of Babylon ; by the great road which leads from Ephesus to Sardis and from Sardis to Susa he penetrated to the interior of the Persian Empire, and went as far as

Ecbatana. And yet the East did not draw him into the circle of her votaries, as some time afterwards she attracted Ctesias. Herodotus never shut his eyes to the superiority of the Greeks, and never forgot that he was a Greek himself. His descriptions of the coasts and landscapes of Greece are so accurate that it is easy to perceive he must have seen most of them with his own eyes. In Athens he felt himself, as it were, at home,¹ for his native city, while paying tribute to the Great King, had a close political connexion with Athens. Thus Herodotus obtained a personal acquaintance with all the districts which made up the civilised world of his day. He was led to visit them by an innate impulse towards selfinstruction, and we can easily see how his zeal for knowledge attended him from place to place.

The work in which Herodotus put together the results of his enquiries forms in itself an element in the history of the century. In the author’s mind are reflected all sorts of national peculiarities, for wherever he went he made enquiries about the country and the people, and the reports he obtained lie side by side in his book. The ethnographical information which we owe to him is of itself of great value, but its importance is doubled by the historical element with which it is woven into a single whole,

¹ It cannot be doubted that Herodotus about the year 444 spent a considerable time at Athens. Hence, perhaps, we may explain certain verses in the Antigone of Sophocles which imply an acquaintance with the works and views of Herodotus. In accordance with this is the notice in Eusebius (Chron. sub. Olymp. 83, 4 = 445-4 B.C.) that Herodotus had read his history publicly in Athens and been honoured there. Now an ancient historian named Diyllus, not without value as respects Athenian history, relates that Herodotus received ten talents by vote of the ecclesia from the city of Athens. We are not told the reason of this gift, which may have been by way of compensation for losses incurred in leaving Halicarnassus or by way of assistance, as he was about to go with a colony to Thurii. It certainly cannot have been intended as payment for flattering views of Athenian policy to be inserted in his history. In the book irt-pl rrjs 'HpodSrov fcaKorjOelas, attributed to Plutarch, through which we know of this passage from Diyllus, a protest is made against such a supposition, on the ground that there is much in the history of Herodotus which must have displeased the Athenians. This little work is very unjust to Herodotus, and excessively calumnious, but it declares outright that the hypothesis in question is a slander : tovto £oriOei t<$ HpoB6r(f) tvpbs hcdvy\v rfyv dta@oXfyv, %v e^ot tcoXattevcras robs ’A6r)valous_} bpyvptov tto\u \a&e7v trap’ aurcov (chap, 26).

His informants of course knew little of the past beyond the memory of living men. It is easy to perceive from his remarks about the Assyrian Empire that Herodotus, anxious as he was to write about Assyrian history, was but slightly instructed on the matter. Had he known more about it he would have considerably modified his notions about the connexion between Egypt and Assyria under the Saitic dynasty. But the fact was that Assyria had already been forgotten by the contemporaries of Herodotus, whose recollections were absorbed by the rise of Persia and by the undertakings of the Persian kings. As to the origin of the Persian Empire nothing but legendary reports existed, which Herodotus transmits to us in the shape in which he received them from the Persians and Egyptians.

On the other hand the hostile collision of Persia and Greece was fresh in the memory of all. The great decisive battles had long been fought, and Herodotus can hardly have had any personal recollection of them, but their effects were still perceptible and determined the mutual relations of the East and the Grecian world. The forces on both sides had all been set in motion by that conflict, and measured against each other. On the Persian invasion of Greece, its failure, and the measures of retaliation taken by the Greeks, rested the existing condition of the world. These events then formed another subject for the enquiries of Herodotus. To combine them with the rest of his information and to present the whole in its proper connexion was the worthiest aim that he could set before him. The result was the first real history that was ever written. History could not grow up on national ground alone, for it is not till they come into contact with one another that nations become conscious of their own existence. It is then too that a writer of wide sympathies can do justice, as Herodotus does, to both the conflicting nationalities. Herodotus has no hatred for the barbarians, or he would not have taken pains to depict them. He has often been accused of partiality towards Athens. The favourable judgment he passes on her conduct in the Persian war has been attributed to personal motives. But I am not inclined

to agree with this view. The famous passage in which hi points out that the salvation of Greece was due to the resolu tion of the Athenians to defend themselves by sea is strictl) and clearly true. The facts are as Herodotus states them The notion he had formed of what would beyond all doubi have taken place, had not the Athenians acted as they did inspired him to write that passage, which, regarded as a piect of historical and political criticism, is perhaps the best in the whole work.

Not only is there an incomparable charm in the graceful simplicity with which Herodotus relates separate events, but he possesses also a sympathetic insight into the relations oi universal history. His work has never been equalled, much less excelled, in the grandeur of its combinations. At the same time it cannot of course be said to satisfy all the conditions of a perfect historical work. All that Herodotus tells us rests on oral tradition, and the main subject of his book is an event which took place several decades before, with which he was acquainted only at second hand, and for which trustworthy authorities were not everywhere to be found. Another service had yet to be performed—the presentation of an evenl which had actually taken place before the author’s eyes. Such a narrative could afford to dispense with oral tradition respecting earlier epochs, which always rests upon a basis comparatively insecure. For the charm of a general survey oi past times was now to be substituted a minute and accurate description of contemporary events.

Herein lies the great merit of Thukydides. The subject of his work is not a struggle embracing the whole area ol the known world, but a conflict between two republics, each in its way of the highest importance. From the momenl when their smouldering resentment broke into open hostility Thukydides watched the course of the struggle with the full intention of describing what he saw.

The tasks which Herodotus and Thukydides respectively performed are of so inconsistent a nature that they could no1 have been executed by one man. Their execution required two authors of different character and different gifts. Each

of these historians expresses views corresponding to his circumstances and his time. In his commerce with different nationalities, during which he always paid special attention to religious matters, Herodotus conceived ideas unlike those which passed current among the Greeks. As a historian he raises objections to the fabulous stories about the gods. In his opinion the ancient Pelasgians, and after them the Hellenes, used to worship the gods without distinction of name. The names of the gods were afterwards introduced from Egypt into Greece. The historian was informed at Dodona that the oracle had once been formally asked whether these names should be recognised, and had approved their recognition ; that in later times Homer and Hesiod had attached titles to the gods, determined their respective occupations, and invented the theogony ; but that all this was, so to speak, a thing of yesterday, at all events not to be compared in respect of antiquity with the ancient faith of the Egyptians.

Not only had Herodotus visited Dodona, but he was also acquainted with the Eleusinian mysteries, and had been initiated into those of the Cabeiri in Lemnos. With respect to the latter he imposes silence on himself, but now and then he hints that behind the belief in the gods, which the ceremonies implied, there was something which he neither could nor would divulge. This does not, however, lead him to deny the existence of gods and heroes. On the contrary, he is afraid that his remarks about them may arouse their animosity. If he disputes the truth of a stoiy about Heracles, he begs the gods and heroes to pardon his presumption. It appears, therefore, that he has no doubts about the existence and the reality of the gods. But he repeats the doctrine that even they cannot escape from fate, which lies, according to him, beyond their control. He enters into no details respecting the dealings of particular gods, but he recognises the existence of a divine power, which exerts a constant and penetrating influence on human affairs.

With respect to this influence, two ideas of Herodotus call for special notice. On the one hand the gods give their support to courage and understanding, but on the other they pursue

with a sort of envy all that is pre-eminent. Any one wl reads Herodotus attentively for some little time, ai surrenders himself to the general impression produced, the author passes from one point to another, will perceive tl one constant element to be a belief in the direct interferes of the Deity. Herodotus venerates the gods as beings real potency, revenging themselves on the man who insul them even unintentionally, announcing their will by meai of oracles, and accomplishing it without fail. Such was tl belief of ^Eschylus, such, in the main, the belief of Euripidf who upbraids the gods with their acts of injustice and violenc The gods indeed rule the human world, but their power not absolute. We see traces of a yet deeper and old religion in the idea of Nemesis, whom Herodotus recognis even where men in general fail to perceive her power.

The divergence between the religious views of Herodot and those of Thukydides has attracted attention from ear times. This divergence does not amount to a direct co tradiction,¹ for this would have implied the resuscitation those ideas of antiquity about the gods which were rejecti by Herodotus. But Thukydides was under the influen of the universal tendency, to which we find the poets givii expression, and by means of which faith in the gods w undermined or even destroyed. Like the poets, he recognisi something divine pervading human things. He complai that men combine together not to maintain the laws of G< but to break them. He speaks with disapproval of a gro’ ing want of piety. But he shows no trace of the idea th

¹ The locus classicus (Herod, i. 22), in which a writer as early as Luc fancied he found cause to blame Herodotus, can be explained as having reference to religion. It may be regarded simply as the expression of an histori conviction with respect to the course of human affairs, and the writer does' appear to have had any doctrinal end in view. In the passage of Lucian ferred lo the author’s own opinion is the most important matter. He transcri only the words that suit his views, and explains them in his own way (ir«s Iffroplav ffvyypd<f>€tv, chap. 42). One cannot help being reminded at this p< of the story of Herodotus’ public reading at Olympia. I hold it to be an invent of the rhetoricians, of whom Lucian himself was one. These people travel from town to town, lecturing as they went, and Herodotus is made out to h done the same.

the gods interfere directly in human affairs. It is true that he does not deny the authority of oracles in so many words— he even adduces evidence which might be held to justify a belief in prophecy; but with regard to such matters he constantly maintains a sceptical attitude. For example, when an earthquake in Lakedaemon is attributed to the violation of a sanctuary, to which some Helots had fled for refuge, he relates the fact, but without giving the slightest hint that he believes in the explanation. He was not unaffected by the growth of natural science. It is with a certain irony that he mentions the belief of the inhabitants of Lipari that the smithy of Hephaestus was in their island. He has very different notions about the smoke which they see by day and the flames that ascend by night. If on any occasion natural phenomena are allowed to influence the decisions of mankind, he comments on the fact with disapproval. A characteristic example of this attitude of mind is to be found in his remarks on the curse which was supposed to be laid on the appropriation of the so-called Pelasgikon at Athens for the purpose of human habitation. He rejects the idea that subsequent misfortunes were due to disregard of this curse, and in the curse itself he sees nothing but a prevision that the spot would not be used for such a purpose except under disastrous circumstances.

The real advance made by Thukydides consists, perhaps, in this, that he perceived the motive forces of human history to lie in the moral constitution of human nature. To establish this we need not have recourse to passages bearing on the subject which he weaves into his speeches, for these speeches are framed in accordance with the character of the speaker. But now and then he makes in his own person observations on human affairs. He declares that such and such an event is due to the dominion of passion over human nature ; that men contemn what is right, and cannot bear anything superior ; that the furious longing for revenge is a still greater evil ; that the man who yields to such passions violates the very laws by which he is protected, and provokes his own destruction. He traces the origin of all disorder in the cities

318 philosophy and literature.

of Greece to the greed of those in power. It is generall says he, nothing but a pretext when men talk of the bles ings of moderate aristocracy or of democratic equality ; the intention is only to get the better of their opponents; virtuous reputation is of far less account than shrewdness ar cunning. National misfortunes on the one side, and on tl other complications resulting from war, give occasion for a such hypocrisy, and bring fresh evils in their train.

Man himself, especially in his vices and his suffering is the central figure in the history of Thukydides. Froi this point of view he stands in much the same relation 1 Herodotus as that in which Euripides stands to Sophocle or rather to ^Eschylus. But the change in the case of Thuki dides is easier to justify than in the case of the poet, for, whi tragedy cannot be conceived as existing without fiction, histoi takes man himself for its subject. One of its essential coi ditions is that it should grasp human affairs as they are, shou comprehend them and make them intelligible. Thukydidi strips off all that is legendary and fictitious, and claims sped credit for having done his best to discover the truth aboi events exactly as they came to pass. The miraculous, which h; such charm for Herodotus, disappears in Thukydides behir the unadorned fact. The tone of his narrative is sometimes ; simple as that of a chronicle ; it impresses one as at om trustworthy and intelligent. Although he owed his securii to the Lakedsemonians it is impossible to reproach him wii Laconian proclivities. It was his nature to do justice to boi sides. Scrupulous adhesion to the simple truth, and the co: finement of his investigations to human projects, give to h history, for the short period of which it treats, a clearness outline and a vividness of descriptive power which demai our highest admiration.

The narrative of Thukydides is throughout annalistic character. Accurate chronology is especially to his tast' he arranges every event under the summer or winter in whi' it happened. He includes in his survey many events whi might seem to others unimportant, for his intention is to gi an exact account of what took place. But in this chron

logical order are visible certain lines of development, which from time to time are brought into prominence, so that the reader’s attention is constantly directed to what is general as well as to details. The merit of the narrative varies according to its subject. In one place Thukydides relates all the political movements and discussions connected with the quarrel between Argos and Lakedsemon in so monotonous a style that the story hardly awakens even a moderate interest. Then comes the battle of Mantineia, which he depicts with special reference to the habits and military skill of the Lakedaemonians. He tells us where his information is at fault, and thereby inspires us with confidence in what he bids us believe. He discusses the conduct of every single troop and every national division in turn, and yet never allows the reader’s attention to wander. The description of the fight itself is not to be surpassed. It is intelligible in all its complications. The Spartan king, full of eagerness to disprove the reproaches to which his former conduct has given occasion, pressing impatiently forward, then restraining his ardour and arranging his troops for the fight, presents a figure notable in the annals of military history. The impartiality of Thukydides leads him to be circumstantial. In Herodotus such a result could hardly have been attained, for with him the gods play too great a part. Thukydides, on the contrary, brings before us human action pure and simple, although he does not omit to relate that a Lakedaemonian army is sometimes disbanded merely because the sacrifices at the frontier prove unfavourable.

It is quite in accordance with his style that he should give us the different treaties, even when comparatively unimportant, not only word for word but in the very dialect in which they were drawn up. Yet, with all this exactness of detail, we come upon a difficulty, the mention of which cannot be avoided in this place. How are we to explain the fact that Thukydides does not reproduce word for word the letter which Nikias wrote home to Athens concerning the state of affairs in Sicily, but interpolates another in which the matter is set forth more concisely ? And, further, what are we to say

about the authenticity of the speeches, which constitute per haps the most excellent portion of his book ? Were the] really spoken as he transmits them to us ?

It is evident, to say the least, that the speeches are remark ably suited to the purpose which the author had in view ir writing history. The speech of the Corinthians at Sparta, ir the first book, is for the most part a comparison betweer Athens and Lakedsemon. Nothing could be more serviceable to the student of history at the opening of a work which de picts the struggle between these two cities. The subsequenl oration of Pericles dwells chiefly on the superiority of nava' over land forces. This superiority had great effect on the course of affairs, and is therefore very suitably placed in th< foreground. Nevertheless in both these speeches the motivf forces, which were of real importance in determining thegenera position, are explained with striking correctness. The speed of the Mytileneans at Olympia, and the speech of Cleoi about the revolt of Lesbos, when taken together, throw abund ant light upon the incompatibility which disturbed the rela tions between the sovereign state of Athens and the mosi powerful of her allies. But it may well be doubted whethe Cleon actually spoke as he is here reported to have done At all events a political culture, such as is displayed bj the speech in question, is not elsewhere attributed to the demagogue.

In the deliberations which preceded the expedition tc Sicily Thukydides has taken more pains to bring to light th< reasons which lay at the root of the matter than the persona motives which actually led to the passing of the resolution It is notorious that Diodorus, a very respectable author ascribes to Nikias a speech on the proposal to attack Syracuse which differs widely from that which Thukydides attributes t< him, but which is nevertheless on the whole much to th< point. Finally, we can scarcely believe that the long dialogui between the Athenians and the Melians, in which the latte insist on their independence and the former demand sub mission and entrance into their league, is word for word true The principles on which both parties rely are matters o

universal history ; on the side of the Athenians they are the same as those applied to defend the expedition against Syracuse. The peculiarity of the discussion consists in the dialectical form in which the arguments on either side are cast.

It is true that the attention of Thukydides is chiefly directed towards Athens, but it is a mark of his superiority as a historian that he has formed clear conceptions about her opponents. He uses the speeches as a means of expressing these conceptions. In the excellent speeches of Brasidas are to be found views the scope of which extends far beyond contemporary affairs. Nor is less approbation due to the speech of Hermocrates, who predicts the failure of the Athenian expedition against Syracuse from causes similar to those which frustrated the Persian expedition against Greece, and embraces in his survey the attitude maintained by Carthage and the resources of that power. We can appreciate the breadth of view which these remarks imply, but we may well ask how it was possible for Thukydides to obtain accurate accounts of the speeches on either side which were made in Syracuse, or of that other oration which Demosthenes addressed to the troops at Pylos. The description of the conflict at Pylos is a gem of historical writing, but it would be hazardous to suppose that the speeches which animated the combatants have been literally reproduced. It is through these speeches that we gain an insight into the hidden contrasts which set in motion the Hellenic world. These contrasts are depicted with a luminous accuracy in which all that is hypothetical is avoided. The historian has no theories to propound, and the reader becomes so much the more conversant with realities. It must, however, be allowed that in the speeches there is a departure from exact truth, for the personal views of the historian appear in the guise of history. It is a moment in which the science of history and the science of rhetoric, then flourishing at Athens, unite their forces.

The master from whom Thukydides learnt the latter art was Antiphon, of whom we have already spoken. Thukydides says of him that he was a man the vigour of

whose thought was only equalled by the vigour of his dictioi These words are exactly applicable to the speeches of Thuk} dides. It is well known that they were considered maste pieces of eloquence, and that they were studied by Demosthene Thukydides is at once orator and historian, but he keej: the two arts distinct. While banishing rhetoric from h narrative, in his speeches he allows it full play. The union ( the two characters was in such close agreement with th public life of antiquity that it was imitated by later historian and, although it often degenerated in after times into met display, may be said to be the chief characteristic of ancier historiography.

7. Intellectual Life in Athens.

There is something almost miraculous is this simultaneou or nearly simultaneous appearance of such different types c genius, accomplishing in poetry, philosophy, and history th greatest feats which the human mind has ever performe< Each is original and strikes out his own line, but all work i harmony. By one or other of these masters are set forth a the greatest problems concerning things divine and humai Athens rejoiced in the possession of a theatre the like of whicl whether for sport or earnest, has never been seen in any othe city. The people lived in constant enjoyment of the noble: dramatic productions. Sophocles was not dispossessed b Euripides : their works appeared at the same time upon th stage. The history of Herodotus was read aloud in publi meetings. Thukydides was reserved for more private stud; but his works had a wide circulation in writing. A hig standard of culture is implied in the fact that the Demos wa as capable of following the speeches of Pericles, and < arriving at decisions about the hardest political questions, e of giving a verdict in the transactions of the Helisea.

This democracy permitted greater freedom of discussio than was to be found anywhere else in the world. It attracte men ot similar aims from the colonies in the East and in th West, and guaranteed to all a safe asylum. As Herodoti

migrated thither from Halicarnassus, so did Anaxagoras from Clazomense. In his own home he found himself so cramped that he abandoned all his interests there and came to Athens. Her increasing greatness offered him an infinite prospect, for a state whose power has reached its zenith has less attraction for an ambitious spirit than one whose power is not yet fully grown. In Athens Anaxagoras found a sphere of influence such as he needed. We have already touched upon his relations with Pericles, and certainly his doctrines deserved to obtain a hearing.

Empedocles, as we have seen, traced all motion to Hate and Love in primary matter—that is, to its own internal impulses. But Anaxagoras found this explanation insufficient, and refused to believe that a settled order of the world could be produced by the motion of the elements. It appears to have been chiefly due to this observation that he arrived at the idea of an omnipotent Mind. This Mind, as the origin of all motion, he opposed to matter—a fresh departure of such universal import that it announced a totally new system of thinking. ‘ The Mind,’ says Anaxagoras, ‘ is infinite, self-controlling, unmixed. It lives of itself. It is a simple essence possessing power and knowledge. It has ordained all that was, is, and is to be.’ These are great thoughts, through which philosophy, following the lines once adopted, accepting here and rejecting there, proceeding from one reflection to another, at last reaches the idea of the unity of God, who however, is not the Creator, but the indwelling Ruler of the universe.¹ Anaxagoras is said to have declared the object of human life to be the observation and knowledge of the heavenly bodies. He was a physicist and an astronomer; in regarding the sun and moon as bodies of the nature of worlds—in fact, resembling the earth—he offended popular prejudices, but had thinking men on his side. Anaxagoras attached to himself both Euripides and Thukydides, and in

¹ The God of Anaxagoras has the same relation to things as the soul to living beings. It is characteristic that the hypothesis of the vovs was regarded as a last resource a-nip-hari, tire Trape\iui rhv vovv, Arist Mp.tath i a 985 “)■ 4, P.

Y 2

their writings, especially in those of the former, we find the ideas of this philosopher reproduced.

The masters of philosophy and rhetoric, attracted by the political supremacy of Athens, were already migrating thither from Italy and Sicily. Among them the Eleatics Zeno and Parmenides are mentioned. The teaching of philosophy was closely connected with the art of logic and rhetoric, which made its way in like manner from Sicily. Athens, in fact, became the very centre and home of the Greek intellect.

In order to appreciate the intellectual greatness of Athens we must remember that Polygnotus, Pheidias, and Ictinus, the architect of the Parthenon, were all living at Athens at this time. There can be no doubt that Greek art was based upon Egyptian, but it had a peculiar development of its own. ■Greek plastic art is the offspring of Greek gymnastics. Take, ,for example, the ^Eginetan marbles, preserved to us by a happy fate from the earliest times. On the pediment of a temple of Athene in ^Egina are represented scenes out of the Trojan war. In the midst of the combatants, struggling over the bodies of the Grecian dead, appears Athene in all the severe dignity of the ancient style. The combatants are copied immediately from life. Some traces of Egyptian stiffness have been observed, but in general the nude figures, in their vigorous movement and in the way they handle their weapons, are life-like even to individuality. It is otherwise with the features of the face. The facial proportions are incorrectly given ; the eyes are too prominent, and the corners of the mouth are drawn upwards : but this may perhaps be defended on the ground that an individual elaboration of the heads and faces would have been out of place in such a scene. The general aspect of the struggle was the matter of most importance. Unity of style is visible throughout: all is fresh and original ; and the spectator is impressed with a sense that he is in the very presence of the ancient world. In the same place where these figures are now preserved are to be found some specimens of Egyptian sculpture. Physiological observers tell us that they appear to have been copied from

models resembling skeletons; but the Greeks copied the living man, in all the fulness of life and energy.

These monuments belong, so far as we can see, to the period before the Persian wars. After the Persian wars the triumphs of that epoch took the place of the memories of Troy. But, like the latter, they were still treated as the immediate results of divine interference. The combination of the worship of the gods with courageous resistance to the foreign invader is the chief characteristic of these sculptures. We have already mentioned the group of thirteen figures in bronze, which the Athenians presented as a thank-offering to the Delphic shrine, representing the gods of the country and of the Athenian clans, and in their midst Miltiades, the hero of Marathon. There is something noble in the conception of victory, as at once a triumph for men and for the gods, which is manifested here. The same idea is expressed in the colossal statue of Athene Promachos, which Kimon commissioned Pheidias to set up. The master of sculpture and the master of painting joined hands in the endeavour to express this feeling, and used the national legends as symbols of their intent. Athene was regarded as at once the patroness of Athens and the ally of Zeus in his conflict with the Titans. Kimon brought home from Thasos the bones of Theseus, the ancient national hero, and laid them in a separate shrine, in the decorations of which were celebrated his heroic deeds against the Kentaurs, the representatives of untamed natural force, and against the Amazons, the invaders of his country. In a similar spirit Polygnotus took part in the adornment of Kimon’s house. In the building, which went by the name of the Painted Portico, he renewed the memories of Troy, giving special prominence to the deeds of the Athenian contingent, but his chief work was to give form and expression to the stories of the battle of Marathon.

But it is not only patriotism which raises these works of art above all that preceded them. Both Pheidias and Polygnotus had at the same time an ideal end in view. In the Lesche at Delphi Polygnotus, taking as one of his subjects the under-world, attempted to put the justice of the

gods into a visible form. He is famed also as a painter of character, who never lost sight of the bearing which rightly belonged to those whom he portrayed. Of his painting of Polyxena, when being sacrificed as an atonement to the shade of Achilles, an ancient observer says that the whole story of the Trojan war was in her eyes. The fame of Pheidias was raised to a still higher point by the chryselephantine statue of Zeus at Olympia. It is an old tradition that as he fashioned it the verses of Homer were in his mind, in which the poet speaks of the brows and hair of the deity, and how Olympus trembled at his nod. ^Emilius Paulus, that victorious Philhellene, remarked that in the statue appeared the Homeric Zeus complete, nay, rather the essence of divinity itself. Pheidias, adds another Roman, carved gods still better than men, and even religion profited by his aid. Thus art too had something to say in these discussions on the divine and human, which occupied Greek minds. Her influence was a living influence, and, in the form which it took in the hands of these artists, might even balance the speculations of Anaxagoras.

But just at this time the intellectual movement received a ^ new stimulus from the influence of Sicily. In that country philosophical culture and political theory availed themselves to the full of the technical improvements recently made in the art of speech. The first theoretical book on any art was a treatise on rhetoric written in Sicily. Elsewhere too there arose schools, in which the art of dialectic and oratory was taught in conjunction with philosophical doctrine. These were the first public schools in which voluntary learners attached themselves to a master. During the time of the Peloponnesian war we find the most distinguished representatives of these schools at Athens.

Gorgias of Leontini, who came to Athens originally as an ambassador from his native city, was a man remarkable for the splendour of his diction and the dignity of his personal appearance. From Sicily too, where he had taught for pay, came Protagoras of Abdera. Besides these there came Hippias of Elis, Prodicus of Keos, and from Chios the brothers

Euthydemus and Dionysodorus. We find these men in the anterooms of the most distinguished citizens, or in the gymnasia, attended as they paced to and fro by numerous pupils, both strangers and natives. Eveiy pointed remark that falls from their lips is received with loud applause, and those who are put to rout by their logical skill are laughed at by the rest. They sit on benches and make answer to all who question them, or they rest on couches and talk in a voice loud enough to fill the room. They receive fees from their pupils, and Protagoras is said to have made a larger fortune than Pheidias.

These men, among whom were to be found persons worthy of all respect, were called Sophists. The flavour of evil reputation that hangs about this title is principally due to the attitude which they took up towards philosophical opinions, for, whether they inclined towards the Ionian school, like Protagoras, or, like Gorgias, to the Sicilian, the prominent characteristic of their teaching is the complete uncertainty of all things.

Starting from the position that everything rests on two movements independent of one another, the one that of the subject, or sentient being, the other that of the object, or sensible being, Protagoras held that all perception originated in the meeting of these two, which meeting belonged, in the nature of things, to the domain of chance. Perception he considered to be a purely subjective sensation, the object of which is of an essentially fleeting nature and only attains to reality through being felt. Similar or even more advanced ideas were promulgated by the followers of Parmenides. The fundamental principle of the Sophists—namely, that what is unreal has no existence at all, was developed by them into the axiom that a lie is impossible. They expected an opponent to begin by proving to them that such a thing as false opinion could exist, and that deceitful appearances could penetrate into the region of thought.

These doubts about the existence of truth reacted of necessity on religious as well as political views. When men went so far as to say that the gods were only recognised

in accordance with custom and law, it was but a short step to the statement—a statement put forward even at this early date, and frequently repeated under very diverse conditions —that religion owes its origin to a political artifice of ancient date, when it was thought to be expedient to represent the gods as overseers of human virtue and vice. Other thinkers went on to connect the idea of law and justice with the ephemeral opinion of ruling parties. The statement attributed in Plato’s ‘ Republic ’ to Thrasymachus, that justice is that which is profitable to the ruler, must doubtless, as we gather from Cicero, have actually occurred in his writings. It was a question which, as we learn from Xenophon’s ‘ Memorabilia,’ occupied the attention of Pericles, and that too with immediate reference to the existing polity. Pericles remarks that he has been in doubt whether that which is established by the caprice of the mob is to be regarded as law or violence.

8. Socrates.

Scepticism was thus triumphant. Men doubted of the objectivity of perceptions, of the truth or untruth of speech, of the existence of the gods, which was made dependent on human opinion, even of the difference between right and wrong. In the midst of this chaos of conflicting opinion Socrates appeared. His very exterior was remarkable. He went about barefoot, in mean attire ; his wants were few and easily satisfied, for he fancied that thereby he approached the gods, who stand in need of naught. He was daily to be seen in the marketplace, in the workshops, in the gymnasia; he conversed with young and old, high and low, and yet without pretending to be a teacher. No one with whom he came in contact could escape from the iron grasp of his dialectic. He appealed only to the verdict of sound human intelligence, making it his business to bring this intelligence to a consciousness of itself. The Sophists lived in the region of established notions, and on this foundation they built up their views and systems. Socrates made it his duty to

examine these notions, and applied to them the touchstone of that insight which is implanted in the breast of every human being. He put in question all the notions from which the Sophists started; he inquired into what they called rational, right, or equable ; he subjected these notions to criticism by the standard of innate ideas, which alone he held to be true. By this method he gathered from the multiplicity of opinion a sum of irrefragable truth. The knowledge which he obtained has been rightly defined as the science of ideas. It is only on the foundation of such a knowledge that safe rules of moral conduct can be based, for virtue and knowledge are thus made to coincide.

The human mind has never been placed in a more commanding position. It contains in itself the criterion of all truth; it is in fact in possession of truth. The essence of Socratic principles lies in the declaration that, in order to discover what is true, it is only necessary to sever tenable ideas from those notions that are untenable. Socrates regards the human mind as the source and warrant of all ideas, and especially of moral ideas ; but the ideas themselves he deduces from insight. Science thus changed its character : it took, as its starting-point, the ideas that are innate in man. It was remarked in ancient times that Socrates had brought back philosophy from heaven to earth. The same may be said to have been done by Thukydides in history, and by Euripides in the drama. It was, in fact, the tendency of the age. Nevertheless Socrates went to work with great prudence. Anaxagoras, who flourished while Socrates was still young, had done undeniable service by declaring those occurrences, such as eclipses of the moon or monstrous births, which filled men with alarm for the future, to be merely natural phenomena, having no connexion with human acts or intentions. Socrates opposed him on the ground that the explanations given of these phenomena were either insufficient or inapplicable. He expressed his belief that there were certain things which the gods had reserved as the special area of their activity, while at the same time he accepted the idea that all things were swayed by a single divine in

telligence. The human mind was, in his view, the offspring of this intelligence, and thereby connected with the gods. On similar grounds he clung firmly to the conviction that the gods took an immediate share in directing human affairs, and manifested in miraculous wise their kindly care for man. He had the liveliest sense of the mysterious connexion between the divine and human, and went so far as to declare that he had within him a dcemon, distinct from himself, which warned him against any mistake that he was in danger of committing. All this did not prevent him from opposing the prevailing notions about the gods. He held, for instance, that it was wrong to imagine that men could do them any service, but their omnipresence, their omnipotence, and their goodness received from him full recognition. Socrates undertook one of the greatest and noblest tasks that were set before Athenian society, the task, namely, of cleansing the ancient faith from its superstitious elements, and of combining rational and religious truth.

Such a man was sure to be misunderstood. Every one knows how the great comic poet, one of the strongest intellects of the day, misused his name ; for the Socrates of Aristophanes is as far apart from the Socrates of real life as earth from heaven.¹ It may fairly be said that the Socrates of comedy is the Protagoras of the Platonic dialogue, for Aristophanes represents him as supporting that which the Socrates of history did his best to overthrow.

These attacks were supported by a popular reaction against anti-traditional modes of thought. Such modes had found favour with Pericles, but the democracy held fast to the old superstition. It appears that Cleon made use of the soothsayer

¹ In his treatise ‘De Vita Aristophanis ’ (in Aristoph. Com. ed. Meineke), p. xviii, my brother Ferdinand Ranke, a man as learned as he was amiable, remarks, ‘ Excepta paupertate, parsimonia, abstinentia, laborum patientia, aliisque rebus laudi potius et honori inservientibus quam justfe reprehensioni obnoxiis rcliqua omnia nihil esse nisi aut mendacia aut errores, omne, quod a Xenophonte et Platone de Socrate narratur, luculenter docet. Neque enim prioribus neque posterioribus vitse annis discipulos in domum recepit aut naturalem philosophiam aut diaJecticam artem docuit.’ The piece was published as early as the year 4²4-3> under the archonship of Isarchus, at a time when tlie peculiar position of Socrates was not as yet rightly understood.

Diopeithes, and of oracles in general. It was on the ground of an oracle that he carried out, in the sixth year of the Peloponnesian war, a purification of Delos, which was attended with much violence. Nikias, too, was in communication with Diopeithes. In the trial occasioned by the mutilation of the Hermae the populace, infuriated by the violation of mysteries and the insults done to the rites it adored, gave free vent to its animosity. It was about the same time that Protagoras was expelled from Athens and his atheistical works committed to the flames. Whether, as some say, it was one of the Four Hundred who brought the charge against him must remain uncertain. Even the worship of Kotytto and Kybele was introduced from abroad, and met with the warmest reception. How resolutely men clung to their old religious views may be best seen in the condemnation of the generals after the battle of Arginusae, a step which was opposed by Socrates.

Socrates, as we have seen, clung originally to the positive faith, as modified to meet the requirements of a higher intelligence ; but to the form in which it was acceptable to the democracy, and in which it became idolatrous, he openly declared himself an opponent. The unfortunate issue of the Peloponnesian war, and the victories of the Lakedaemonians, who clung firmly to ancient principles, were not without effect upon Athenian feeling both with respect to religion and the constitution. The frequent revolutions experienced by the republic since the death of Pericles had shaken the confidence of all thinking men in the dominant political system. In the struggle between oligarchy and democracy Socrates did not actually take sides with either. But after this struggle had passed through various phases, and the democracy had at length got the upper hand, public opinion about Socrates was influenced by the fact that, whatever he was, he was not a democrat.

On the contrary, he found himself in antagonism to the fundamental idea of democracy. He founded his ethical system on an intellectual basis, and he regarded political systems from the same point of view. His doctrine was that he should rule who best understood the art of ruling. A ruler excelling

all his contemporaries in intelligence was, indeed, not forthcoming. Alkibiades was far from corresponding with such an ideal. Critias, the most violent of the Thirty Tyrants, was still further removed from it. It was one of the most damaging charges against the philosopher that Alkibiades and Critias were his pupils, however little he is to be blamed for their excesses. The political ideas of Socrates had rather a negative tendency ; among other things he objected to the conferring of office by lot, for who, said he, would place confidence in a helmsman chosen in this fashion ? But, in taking up this position, he put in question the claim of those who possessed the franchise to exclude others from the state, and to assume its whole direction, and this, too, at a time when, in consequence of the recent conflict, it had been resolved to restore the laws of Solon, which were based upon this very principle, in their original form. The main current of political feeling flowed in this direction, and the restoration of Athenian power was believed to depend upon the restoration of the democracy.

The execution of this project implied the maintenance of the ancient religion, on which the political system in great measure rested, with undiminished authority. Now Socrates, it could not be denied, performed all his civil and religious duties. But his speculations went far beyond these duties; he did not, as became a born Athenian, adopt as his own the idea of the constitution and of the popular religion. His thoughts at any rate were free from any specifically national element. His philosophy strove to grasp what is common to humanity in those fundamental ideas which range fai beyond the outward forms of social life at Athens, of the Athenian state and the Athenian religion. And these ideas he by no means kept to himself; he communicated them ir conversation with younger men, and compelled their recogni' tion. In happier times, when there was nothing to fear, thf Athenian republic might have been content to look quietly or at conduct of this kind, but it could no longer afford to b( tolerant. The democratic principles, according to which thi restored Council of Five Hundred, the holders of supremi

authority, were chosen by lot or by a chance majority, were diametrically opposed to the doctrines of Socrates, who taught that good government was absolutely incompatible with such conditions. But the times required that all should lend their aid to the restoration of the state. A man who enjoyed the veneration of all impartial or youthful minds, and made use of his power to inveigh against the axioms on which the existing social system depended, could no longer be allowed free play.

We must not depreciate the intrinsic importance of the question which was thus brought forward. It is the question whether the legislative power should not originate in something better than the authority of popular leaders or a majority of the people. In the latter case law itself appeared as a mere act of power, and on that account could not be regarded as unconditionally binding ; while beyond existing forms there lay the idea of a state grounded on wisdom and insight, which could not be made dependent on the support of the masses, and still less on the fortune of the lot. The manner in which laws are to be passed is the weightiest problem that can be laid before any administration. When therefore Socrates deviated from the principles which underlay the democracy, he incurred the hatred of the democratic leaders—• a hatred which, regarded from the point of view of the existing state, was not without its justification. He was brought to trial by a man named Anytus, who had taken part in the re-establishment of the republic under Thrasybulus, and two literary comrades—a poet, who undertook to conduct the prosecution, and a rhetorician. It is quite possible that the influence which Socrates had obtained over a son of Anytus was at the root^sf the latter’s animosity. The philosopher was declared to be a perverter of youth, a person who not only despised the old gods, but endeavoured to introduce the worship of new. There was just this much in support of the charge, that Socrates refused credit to those portions of the mythology which attributed human passions to the gods, and spoke of his Wzmon in a way which made his own conscience the repository of absolute truth. In the fate of Socrates

there is something deeply tragic. The free and imposin development with which he identified himself, true and nobl as it was, brought him into collision with the dominar tendencies which were at work on the restoration of the stafa In him sentiments common to mankind came into conflic with a passing phase of patriotism, and his idea of the deit clashed with the established religion of the state.

Socrates had devoted his life before all things to hi native city; he had never left Athens except when sorm military expedition in which he had to take part carried hin beyond her walls. He was now convinced that Athens wa no place for him. He saw that he must perish, and hanc over the maintenance and development of his doctrines t< other men and to happier circumstances. His damm warned him not to oppose the sentence which was about fa be pronounced against him. There was indeed great truth ir the claim he made that he should be allowed to dine in th< Prytaneum at the public expense. He was worthy of tha reward, but to grant it would have been to deny the absoluti validity of those very principles which his judges were mos eager to proclaim. There can be no doubt that Socrates wa: innocent; he was not attacked on the score of his action; but on the score of his opinions, and these were the nobles that had yet found expression in Athens, and were based or a profound acquaintance with the nature of man. It was fa the honour of Athens that this appeal to the source of irre fragable truth that exists in the breast of every intelligen human being was made within her walls. But she could no tolerate the appeal, for it was antagonistic to the politica restoration which was then in progress, and to this restoratior Socrates fell a victim. As for himself, he suffered nothing that he would have regarded as a misfortune. He had passec the age of seventy years ;¹ he had lived his life, and ful

¹ So at least says Plato (Aflol. p. 17), whom I would rather trust on such ; point than Apollodorus. The latter places the birth of Socrates in the montl Thargelion, in the year 468. Socrates died in the month Thargelion, in th< year 399, under the archonship of Laches, so that according to the ordinary calcu lation he had just entered upon his seventieth year, which does not agree with wha Plato says.

filled the task to which he felt himself called ; and he swallowed the fatal hemlock without a pang.

g. Plato and Aristotle.

By the death of Socrates a gulf was placed between those philosophical speculations which tended towards a positive but intellectual form of faith and the idolatrous religion of the state. The state set itself to oppose every attempt to popularise the new ideas, but philosophy was fortunately allowed to continue its own development. As the ancient fable puts it, there sprang from the breast of Socrates a swan—the bird of Apollo. This swan was Plato.

The Sophists were foreigners in Athens; Socrates belonged to the poorer class of citizens ; but Plato sprang from one of the most distinguished families in the state, a family that traced its descent from the last of the kings. Critias, who passed for a pupil of Socrates, was a near relation of Plato’s mother, and one of Plato’s brothers fell at the side of Critias in the fight with Thrasybulus. At the time when that conflict came to a close Plato was already a pupil in the school of Socrates, whose society he enjoyed for a period of ten years. If Anytus, as a democrat, reproached Socrates with having ruined his son, the aristocratic family of Plato were probably of the opposite opinion. Plato was thus enabled to attach himself with all his heart to the great master of logic and of ethics. After the death of Socrates he considered it advisable to leave Athens. He betook himself first to Megara, where Eucleides was endeavouring to combine the Socratic method with the views of the Eleatic school, and then to Kyrene, where he found a friend of that school engaged in the study of mathematical science. Thence he went to Southern Italy, where the doctrines and discipline of Pythagoras still produced men like Archytas, who obtained such influence in Tarentum as to control the issues of peace and war. In his zest for travelling Plato somewhat resembled Herodotus. We are assured that he even went to Egypt, to make himself acquainted with the ancient wisdom of the

priests of Ammon, and that he intended to explore the doctrines of the Persian Magi, had he not been hindered by the outbreak of war. In Plato the philosophical opinions of the contemporary world were reflected, as Herodotus reflected its historical recollections, but he allowed nothing to seduce him from the idealism of Socrates.

In Plato’s life the three gradations of apprenticeship, travel, and teaching may be clearly distinguished.¹ On his return to Athens he was strongly advised to enter upon a political career, to which his noble birth would have ensured him immediate admission. But the fate of Socrates had made it clear that genuine philosophical conviction was incompatible with political activity. He therefore rejected all such proposals, and devoted his life to the development of philosophical doctrine. He lived in his own house, close by the Academus, a garden adorned with monuments of the gods and heroes, overshadowed with noble plane trees, and thickly planted with the native olive, whose origin was supposed to be divine Here his pupils collected round him in much the same way as they had once collected round the Sophists, and with them he discussed the conflict which his teacher had carried on with antagonistic systems and opinions. His works are the record of these scientific discussions. They are conversations in which Socratic views are maintained against all comers, and developed in a ceaseless conflict of logic. In this home he read, and wrote, and worked, till at length, in advanced old age, but with all his powers unimpaired, he was overtaken by the common fate of man. One tradition declares that he breathed his last in the midst of a joyous feast ; another that he died in the act of writing, his stylus in his hand.

It is no mere accident that Plato’s writings are in the form of dialogues ; they were taken directly from the life. Dialogue brings to view the inner processes of the mind; it throws light as it were upon the very growth of thought. One is struck, in

' I purposely omit Plato’s residence in Sicily and his adventures there. The facts themselves are doubtful, and a detailed examination would not be in place here.

reading the dialogues of Plato, by the harmony of form and matter, the union of happy invention and appropriate expression. In a word, they are the work of a great writer. No one has ever more clearly shown the permanent value of careful and correct composition.

It does not come within the scope of this work to trace the development of that system which all subsequent generations have striven to fathom and to understand. We can only touch upon the connexion of Plato’s thoughts with those questions of universal interest which agitated the intellect of Greece. The theological problem, which occupied the attention of all Greek poets and thinkers, rests upon the assumption of a conflict between the primary forces of nature and the Olympian gods. The gods exist, as the heroes exist ; the gods rule the universe, and the universe is subject to their laws. But they are to be regarded, as we have already seen in Herodotus, rather as active powers than as divine beings : the true essence of the divine does not make its appearance in them : they are subject to fate. The primary forces, which have a moral as well as physical importance, exist apart from them, and in conflict with them. Herodotus is far from denying the existence of the gods, but when the truly divine is in question he always takes refuge in the mysteries. Pindar rejects all that is immoral and unseemly in the legends of the gods. Sophocles resembles him in refusing to believe that the gods are ever to be found in opposition to what is right. In Euripides, on the contrary, all that is reprehensible in the legends of the gods is brought forward without reserve. ^Eschylus and Herodotus have a profounder insight into this contradiction than any other authors. The most important point in ^Eschylus is the view that man himself belongs to the primeval world, and, supported by the primary forces of nature as opposed to the gods, wins his way to the free cultivation of his physical and intellectual powers. In this analysis, then, the existence of a something essentially divine is assumed and it is this of which philosophical discussion aims at forming an ideal conception.

Plato, in common with Pindat' and Herodotus, combats

the view of the gods which we find in Homer and Hesiod He defines the tales about Uranus and Cronus as ‘ a great lie about the greatest things,’ and an ill-favoured lie to boot. It appears to him preposterous that the gods should be supposed to engage in war and conflict with one another. If God is good, how can he do harm ? If he is truth itself, how can he deceive ? Plato rejects the fables not only of epic, but also of lyric poetry, according to which it is always easy for a god to find a pretext for ruining men. AH that one may lawfully affirm is, that the deity does what is right and good, and that when any one is chastised it is for his advantage. To give expression to these opinions was comparatively unimportant, for they already carried conviction to the minds of thoughtful and independent men, but how to defend them against the analytical doctrines of the sophists was a problem which demanded immediate solution.

Plato introduces us to all the most famous sophists. Sometimes he exerts himself to annihilate the dogmatism and fine speeches of some particular opponent. For instance, in the ‘ Protagoras,’which maybe regarded as the easiest • and most graceful introduction to Platonic views, the peculiar propositions of that philosopher are overthrown, and on their ruins those of Plato are marshalled in splendid array. At other times he attacks the sophistic method in general. In the ‘ Euthydemus,’ for example, Dionysodorus is made to refute himself by successive affirmations and denials, and the sophistic trick of embarrassing an opponent by using the same word in different senses is exposed in all its hollowness. A closer analysis of the dialogues in their bearing on the sophistic method of the day brings out with ever-increasing clearness what particular antagonist Plato had in view on each occasion. He sometimes combines several different opinions, and, while appearing to desert one in favour of the other, aims at the destruction of both. He not only attacks simultaneously Protagoras, Gorgias, and the sophistic followers of Parmenides, but he refutes Heracleitus with the arguments of Empedocles, and Empedocles with the arguments of Heracleitus.¹

¹ Comp. Cousin, Introduction to the Lysis,’ CEuvres de Platon, iv. 22.

The opinions, however, which are thus attacked are not treated as personal, but as universal errors. In the ‘ Thesetetus ’ Plato refutes certain views which reappeared in full force and activity in the eighteenth century.

On the one hand the commonplace notions about gods and things divine are rejected, on the other the schemes of philosophers opposed to these notions are overthrown. Between the two, now attaching itself to one side, now to the other, rises the intelligent mind, the one Being that thinks and is. This is very plain, for example, in the ‘ Sophist.’ In this dialogue, in the course of his examination of the sophistic method, Plato comes upon the idea of Being and Not-being. Difference he deduces from the movements of Not-being. Movement produces species, so that something arises which partakes of Being, which is and yet is not Being. Plato does not think it altogether a mistake to declare all to be one, as many persons do, since things in general may be regarded as one and yet are many. To elucidate the relation of unity and multiplicity is a problem not only of great general interest, but of supreme importance for any metaphysical system. In this relation lies something divine. It might be said that Prometheus stole this thought together with the fire from heaven. An idea is unity in multiplicity : it is real Being in every respect: there can be even an idea of ideas. To know is to seize the idea : ideas are the realities of the universe. By means of this one thought, a thousand times repeated, stated, inculcated, the world comes to have a lofty intellectual purport, with which the thinking mind stands in immediate relation. It would according to Plato be impossible to combat false notions about the gods, if the idea of good was not forthcoming as a standard by which to test them. There is an apposite remark on this subject in the ‘ Euthyphron,’ to the effect that the holy is not holy because it is loved of the gods, but is loved of the gods because it is holy.

Plato does not express any opinion on the question how far the gods really exist; but not unfrequently, and especially where he is speaking of public institutions, as, for instance, in

tne * Laws,’ he expressly recognises their existence. It is only the mythical notions of popular superstition that he absolutely rejects. If we recall the conflict of opinion between Herodotus and Thukydides, we find Plato siding with the latter, although'he is superior in that his views collectively form one universal philosophical system. The idea of good is the deepest foundation of being and thought Plato seems to have conceived of it as spirit, but not as absolutely self- determined.¹ The divine he describes as immutable, truthful, blissful, just, free from envy, and having no part or lot with evil.²

In the ‘ Timaeus' God appears as ruler of the universe. Ideas are associated, but not directly, with Becoming. Time, in its course, which controls Becoming, is only a copy of eternity. The transition from the idea to divine personality is nowhere, so far as I can see, explained: it is rather assumed from the existence of the gods than independently proved.³ The deities of the popular faith are condensed into one living Divine Being.

Following a method like this, it was impossible to do more than to place a philosophical conviction alongside of the common faith. The latter held good for the multitude, the former for the philosophic classes.. Still it was an inestimable gain that a comprehensible doctrine had been propounded, a doctrine which embraced all that was tenable in the older religious and philosophical notions, a doctrine which at once satisfied and stimulated thoughtful minds. The origin of the soul is wrapped in the same obscurity as the personal

¹ Brandis, Handbuch der Geschichte in griechisch-rdmischen Philosophic,

326, 2, I, 216. 341.

² The passage in the Timaus is well known. Some have seen in it nothing but the declaration of the author’s own incompetence ; to others it seems to be an ironical and almost scoffing attack upon belief in God. It is probably a declaration of incompetence, with a tendency towards negation.

³ Such is the opinion of Zeller [Die Philosophic der Gricchen, ii. I, p, 600).

¹ Plato/ says he, ‘ nowhere attempts to combine these religious notions more accurately with his scientific ideas, and to prove their compatibility.’ Hege ( Vorlesungen iiber die Gesch. der Philos., ii. 259) says, ‘ When God was only the Good, He was only a name, not yet self-determining and self-determined.’ I adduce these quotations, which agree with my views, as an excuse for venturing to give the results of my own studies of the works of Plato.

existence of the Deity. But its calling is clear: it is to recognise the idea, and to live according to it.

Political rhetoric, practised by the majority as an art enabling its master to play a part in public affairs, is immeasurably inferior to the true science of politics. Such is Plato’s opinion. Let us endeavour to connect with this point of view the body of thought which his great pupil and successor, Aristotle, left to posterity. Aristotle was born at Stageira, in Chalkidike, one of that group of Greek colonies which are scattered over the frontier of Thrace and Makedonia. For many years he enjoyed the society of Plato, and was a pupil in his school: he was a warm adherent of the idealistic philosophy developed by Plato from the teaching of Socrates ; his admiration for Plato is evident throughout his works. Without Plato Aristotle would have been impossible.

Nevertheless the pupil is not seldom in opposition to the master, and it is on these occasions that his work is most important. The difference between them began on a decisive point. Plato had assumed that primary matter was without beginning, but had been set in order at a certain time by the Deity. Aristotle disputed this assumption in one of his earliest works, on the ground that no conception can be formed of the Deity without presupposing an order of the world. He assumed the eternity of the world, of the human race as comprised therein, but he held that mankind had passed through various stages of development, and thus might even be said to have had several beginnings. He too, like his master, regarded the Deity as the quintessence of all perfection, but avoided the objection to which Plato, in not completely identifying the idea of good with the Deity, had laid himself open. His philosophy, in fact, rests on a union of the dialectic of Socrates with the views of Anaxagoras. The God of Plato and Aristotle is simply the Nous of Anaxagoras, Reason endowed with being, whom they regard, however, as the creator of the universe. The religious and poetical vein of Plato is not to be found in Aristotle : he remains ever secure on his intellectual heights. He hardly thinks it worth

while even to mention the anthropomorphic conceptions of the Deity to which popular faith still clung, and which Plato combated. With him the Deity is but the object of reverence and adoration.

Aristotle did not aim at giving an exhaustive description of the kingdoms of nature : he rather sought to explain them with reference to his doctrine of the soul. His observations on nature are an introduction to all scientific physiology, and cannot be read without admiration. Equally important is his exposition of the difference between man and other living creatures. His remarks about the distinction between active and passive reason, of which the former, autonomous, semi-divine, and therefore immortal, is alone to be regarded as true, are, in my opinion, the best that could have been made, revelation alone excepted.

The same, if I am not mistaken, might be said of Plato’s doctrine of the soul. The doctrine of the substantiality and immortality of the soul was so far developed by him that no philosopher of later times has been able to add anything to it. With the religious intensity peculiar to him, Plato directed his gaze upon the future beyond the grave and upon the soul in itself. The soul appears at last, stripped of all that could obscure its essential nature, before the judge, who, no longer in danger of deception through eye and ear, beholds, as a spirit, the spirit as it really is.

Thus we can measure the depths and heights of human knowledge of divine things in the works of these two philosophers. Their doctrines cannot be regarded as simply belonging to them alone : they are the product of the reflective power of a whole epoch, which has since then been revived at intervals, and has made its appearance in the greatest literary productions of all ages. What they offer us is not a fully-developed doctrine, but a series of the most elevated thoughts.

The views of these two philosophers with regard to practical life, and their relations to one another in this respect, are of especial interest. Once severed from the bonds of contemporary politics, Plato explored all the more eagerly

plato’s republic. 343

the conditions of an ideal polity. He has left us two ideals of the state. The one, which he develops in the ' Laws,’ is based upon a system of originally equal allotments ol land. This equality has to be rigidly maintained, for to inequality and the wish to grow rich Plato attributes all evil passions. The anger of the gods should be invoked by means of sacrifices on the head of those who buy or sell. The second of Plato’s schemes, the most important and truly ideal of the two, is expounded in the ‘ Republic,’ repeated in the ‘ Timseus,’ and maintained in other books. It is based on a community of goods. Its chief object is to provide a system embodying the idea of justice and holiness, and possessed of an authority which shall ‘ enable mankind fully to subdue the hundred-headed beast that dwells with men.’ The Republic of Plato is not a vague ideal only. It implies the most decided opposition to existing political systems, and especially to the republic of Athens. From such systems as these the philosopher should, as far as possible, cut himself adrift. The principle on which the Athenian constitution depended—namely, that the possession of land and the right to trade and make gain entail the duty of aiding in the national defence—was radically opposed by Plato, who wished to exclude the agricultural and trading classes from the use of arms. This right is reserved for a distinct class, designated guardians, that is to say, warriors, whose actions are to be entirely under the control of their commanders. The commanders themselves are to be philosophers, that is to say, men who aim at nothing but the common good of all and the perfecting of the individual. It may perhaps be said that principles, in the abstract identical with these, formed the groundwork of that political system which in the Middle Ages held universal sway in Europe. That system combined a subject population with a higher class alone possessing the right of bearing arms, under a government in which the idea of the divine was prominent, and which set itself to raise mankind to the level of that idea. In Plato there is the same close alliance between monarchy and priesthood which for centuries held dominion over the world.

In the second book of the ‘ Republic ’ the subject of education is treated. It is only the guardians whose culture is discussed ; but this may be accidental. The chief principle insisted on is that the Deity should be represented as good and true, not as deceitful and mischievous, not only because such statements are false, but because they ruin the youthful soul that hears them. In the demand that the divine should rule, not only in the individual soul, but also in public life, may be discerned a distant approach to the hierarchical ideas of later times. The substantiality of the soul, immortality, the corrupting influence of the world, and the possibility of purification hereafter lead on to the Christian idea, whose sway succeeded that of Plato. In both the soul is related to that which is divine and eternal. The thousand years’ wandering reminds one on the one hand of Egyptian conceptions, and on the other of the ‘ Divina Com- media ’ of Dante.

The changes of historical epochs appear first of all in the mind of the philosopher who has emancipated himself from the dominion of the outward forms of life around him. Aristotle held an acknowledged sway over the philosophic minds of the Middle Ages. But in respect of the ideals which men set before them in ordinary life, his influence was far less powerful than that of Plato. The latter leads us away from the existing world : the former leads us back to it and recognises the conditions which it implies. Aristotle’s conception of the state is far more realistic than that of Plato. He even disapproves of so complete a withdrawal from politics as that in which Plato lived, and holds, on the contrary, that a share in political life is indispensable to intellectual development. He brings into prominence those conditions of political power which are neglected by Plato, for instance, the advantages of a maritime position in respect of trade and commerce, while he accepts the most important bases of civic life, which Plato entirely rejects. According to Aristotle the state cannot dispense with the family, in which everything has to give way to the father’s will. He even recognises slavery as a necessity. He condemns the custom according to which the

Greeks made slaves of their conquered compatriots, on the ground that all Greeks are originally equal; but he allows that nature itself has destined one half of mankind to subjection, and the other half, that which is more capable of thought, to dominion. Without slaves domestic life seems to him impracticable ; and without domestic life no state can exist. Thus all Plato’s ideals vanish away. Aristotle combats Plato’s views on the necessity of an equal division of land with the acute observation that, in that case, the number of children must always correspond with the number of parents, which is impossible. He is still more strongly opposed to the community of goods, on the ground that this would deprive mankind of the incentive to labour which is supplied by the desire to possess property and to transfer it to others. He points out further that disputes would not be avoided by such means, for it is well known that among those who have common possession of any property disputes are the rule.

While thus holding fast the principles which are the basis of all political life, Aristotle fixes his eyes mainly on the political system of the existing Hellenic state. In politics, as elsewhere, his circle of vision is wider than that of Plato. He makes a distinction between the Greeks and the barbaric nations to the north and east. Among the Northern barbarians, says he, is to be found military courage, which enables them to maintain their freedom : among the Eastern adaptability and cleverness, but a want of courage, so that their freedom is not maintained. The Greeks are distinguished by the combination of courage and intellect, so that with all their intellectual activity they still remain free. Certain remarks on monarchy may seem to imply that Aristotle had the rising kingdom of Makedonia in his eye : the teacher of Alexander the Great may well have held such views. But, when we look more closely at what he says, it will be seen that the monarchy recommended by Aristotle has little in common with the Makedonian—an absolute power indissolubly connected with the nation by the right of hereditary descent. Aristotle rejects the very quality which is the most

prominent characteristic of monarchy, namely, heredity, on the ground that the best of monarchs may leave behind him a thoroughly worthless heir. He approves of monarchy only in case the nation is unfit to govern itself. From this point of view the idea of aristocracy is connected with that of monarchy. The chief point in favour of these forms of government is that the idea of the state cannot be grasped and represented by the masses so well as by one man or even as by a small body of persons. The evil which Aristotle aims at remedying is the supremacy of the democratic movement, which in his day ruled far and wide in Greece. He disapproves of despotism, and is careful to distinguish it from monarchy ; but it appears to him a still greater evil that the people should be seduced by demagogues into illegal acts ; for on such occasions, says he, demagogues become the minions of the populace.

Nevertheless the basis on which everything rests is, according to Aristotle, the community. The community has control of peace and war. Office is not to be conferred by lot, but those persons are to be preferred who are fitted for it by wealth or other qualifications. The members of the community are not to devote themselves to agriculture or trade ; their business is to defend and administer the state. In his scheme of education Aristotle will not allow gymnastic, which fits men for the former duty, to predominate, but gives equal prominence to music. Music is the very language of the emotions and impresses itself on the temperament for life. But it is only good for education ; the full-grown man must never practise it; he is to devote himself with all his heart to public affairs. Here we find Plato and Aristotle again in agreement. The grand aim of both philosophers is the formation of a sapient spirit, at once desirous and capable of exercising power for the common good. The elementary conceptions on which their scheme is based are identical in their origin and form one harmonious whole—the divine spirit that rules the universe, the human being trained to intellectual activity, the supremacy of the wise within the state.

CHAPTER IX.

RELATIONS OF PERSIA AND GREECE DURING THE FIRST HALF OF THE FOURTH CENTURY.

Was the development of ideas, which we have traced in the previous chapter, strong enough to maintain itself against the material forces that threatened it with destruction ? The importance of the answer to this question must be evident at the very first glance. It is characteristic of the age that, while the great minds of Greece were opening out new ways for the future life of all mankind, the Grecian states wasted their strength in separate and individual efforts. The idea of nationality found no one to represent it. Even the great contest with Persia, which hitherto had kept alive the national feeling of Greece, was no longer maintained. The voice of opposition was not altogether silenced ; on the contrary, it still gave forth at intervals a resonant and vigorous note. But the concluding events of the Peloponnesian war made it clear that this feeling no longer exercised any real influence. The centre of the forces that moved the world lay, it must be allowed, in the alliance between the Persian monarchy, as it appeared in Asia Minor, and the Lakedaemonian power, as developed through the struggle with Athens. The most powerful men of the day were Cyrus the Younger, who represented the Achaemenidae in Asia Minor, and Lysander, who was employed in overthrowing democracies wherever he found them, and in setting up oligarchies of the Lakedaemonian type. All that happened is to be traced to their initiative. The forces of the Lakedaemonians and their allies by land and sea worked in harmony with the Persian gold

which supplied their equipment. The vitality possessed by this combination was derived from the fact that the Persian satraps and the mercenary states of Greece were indispensable to each other. But in other respects the alliance was fleeting and insecure, for neither Cyrus nor Lysander was master of the situation in his own country. The latter had many enemies in Sparta, and still more in the rest of Greece: the former was subject to the orders of the Great King, who naturally followed his own interests.

It was an undertaking of the widest import when Cyrus the Younger resolved to place himself by the aid of Grecian arms on the throne of Persia. A pretext was found in a point left unsettled by the constitutional law of that country. It was matter of dispute whether the right of succession belonged to the eldest son, or to the son born first after his father’s accession to the throne. The accession of Xerxes had been decided by the fact that he was born during the reign of Darius. On similar grounds, when Darius Nothus died, Cyrus the Younger, the only son born during his father’s reign, claimed the preference over his brother Artaxerxes. On this occasion, as before, the queen was for the younger brother, but could not bring her consort over to his side. Artaxerxes, surnamed Mnemon, became king ; Cyrus was appointed satrap of Lydia and the regions that bordered on the sea.¹ It was no ordinary satrapy which thus fell to the lot of the king’s son : he was described in his father’s edict as Karanos, that is, Lord or Sovereign, a special title such as was not unfrequently conferred upon satraps related to the royal house. But Cyrus was not contented with this honour. He considered himself, in virtue of his personal qualities, more capable than his brother of filling the post of king. Artaxerxes, we are told, was of a gentle nature, a lover of peace, of genial and placable disposition, a character, in fact, well suited to the representative of Ormuzd. Cyrus, on the other hand, was ambitious,

¹ The words of Plutarch (Artax. 2), 6 irpefffivrepos aireBelxOr} fiatriheds, ^,ApTa£ep£7/s' fuL€rovo/j.a<r6els, Kvpos 5e Avtilas ffaTp&irrjs Ka\ tS>v iirl 9aAd<rcn]S o-rparTjySs, seem to imply that the appointment to the satrapy did not depend upon the caprice of Artaxerxes,

adventurous, and warlike, a soldier after the manner of those Greek mercenaries whom he attracted in considerable numbers to his flag.

Cyrus not only considered himself worthy of the throne and justified in taking possession of it, but he was resolved to attempt its conquest. With this object in view, he summoned the Lakedsemonians to his aid, expressly reminding them of the service he had done them in the late war. The Ephors, while refusing to declare themselves openly for him, were satisfied of the justice of his request. They sent a fleet to Cilicia to prevent the satrap of that country, who, like other provincial governors, was naturally inclined to support the king, from opposing the march of Cyrus. They willingly granted permission to the Peloponnesian soldiery to take service with the pretender, and Clearchus, one of the best of their captains, was expressly empowered to serve under him. Thereupon a very considerable body of troops, thirteen thousand in number, was collected, and the army, meeting with little resistance in Asia Minor, set out on its march, in order to win the Persian crown for the ally of Lakedaemon. In short, it was through the support of Cyrus that the Lake- daemonians had overpowered Greece ; it was through the aid of Lakedaemon that Cyrus was now to become lord and master of Persia. It was indeed matter of doubt, whether the alliance of Greek mercenaries with the pretender to the Persian throne was likely to exercise a decisive and general influence on affairs. Even had the attempt proved successful, had Artaxerxes been overthrown and Cyrus set up in his place, the Greeks would probably have played a subordinate part, like that which they performed at the side of the Hellen- ising Pharaohs of Egypt. But it is nevertheless undeniable that, even under these circumstances, the aspect of the world would have undergone a change. Cyrus would have met with opposition and would have remained dependent on Grecian support. The Greeks would have retained a certain share in the dominion founded by their aid, and would have extended their influence to the furthest parts of Asia. It was a question of life and death for the

Persian Empire whether it would be able to resist this attack or not.

When the two armies met in the plain of Cunaxa on the banks of the Lower Euphrates, it at first appeared probable that the expedition of Cyrus would be crowned with success. His Greek allies, familiar as they were with the practice of war, and led by an experienced commander, advanced in steady array, and made a sudden and vigorous attack upon the enemy. The attack was successful. The Persian squadrons opposed to them, hastily collected, ill equipped, and devoid of military experience, were routed at once. The battle seemed to be won, and Cyrus was saluted as king ; but the body of picked and disciplined troops, in whose midst was Artaxerxes himself, still held together in unshaken order. Cyrus had to engage in a personal combat with his brother. The historians are full of this duel, which not only supplied food for Oriental fancy, but reminded the Greeks of the stories of a mythical age, and especially of the combat between Eteocles and Polyneikes. The story, however, rests upon no solid foundation. All that we can be certain of is that Cyrus made a strong impression on the enemy’s centre ; ¹ that Tissaphernes restored order among his troops, and that in the hand-to-hand struggle which ensued Cyrus was killed.

The object of the expedition was a purely personal one; on the death of the pretender, it came to an end at once. The Grecian leaders fell victims to the treachery of the Persian allies of Cyrus, whose only thought was now to make peace with the Great King ; but the Greek troops, led by the Athenian Xenophon, though much reduced in numbers, made good their retreat. Their march has won imperishable re-

¹ This is to be seen from Diodorus (xiv. 22). This author’s account of the battle is in other respects more intelligible than that of Xenophon, who draws from Ctesias. Plutarch’s narrative aims at clearing Cyrus from the reproach of rashness : hence he explains the caution of Clearchus as fear. The additions which Plutarch, in his life of Artaxerxes, has drawn from Ctesias, sound altogether fabulous, and Plutarch himself ends by laughing at them. The story that the Great King was wounded and carried off the field, and that order was in spite of this restored and the battle won, does not agree with the Persian character, as it appears in the battles of Issus and Arbela. Diodorus probably used Ephorus as an authority.

nown in the annals of military history as the Retreat of the Ten Thousand. It is a proof of the military skill which every individual Greek had made his own, that they were able to adapt-their tactics to their needs, and to repel the attacks of light-armed troops. In the face of the greatest dangers and difficulties, and through the midst of savage tribes still living in ancestral freedom, they pressed forward on their homeward way. At length as we read in the impressive narrative of Xenophon, they beheld the sea, and saluted it with joyful shouts of ‘ Thalatta! Thalatta ! ’ The sea was their own, and safety was before them at last.

This march must not be regarded as a mere adventure. Rightly considered, it will be seen to have had results of far- reaching importance. The Persian satraps could not avoid calling the Lakedaemonians to account for the attack on the Great King, in which they had taken part. Tissaphernes who now came again to the front after the fall of Cyrus the Younger, renewed the war in Asia Minor. It may be open to dispute whether the renewal of hostilities between Persia and Lakedaemon was one of the circumstances which enabled the Athenians to reorganise their republic in the way described above, but it is certain that it introduced a new phase in the relations of Greece and Persia.

The expedition of the Ten Thousand had at least one remarkable result. The old idea of an invasion of Asia awoke to new life in the breasts of the Lakedaemonians. Derkylli- das, at the head of an army composed of Lakedaemonians and their allies, took possession of the Troad. Hereupon the two satraps, Tissaphernes and Pharnabazus, came to an understanding and made proposals of peace, but, these proposals appearing dangerous to the Lakedaemonians, the ill-feeling ripened into the determination to renew the ancient war. Agesilaus, the youthful king of Lakedaemon, was sent over to Asia.¹ In this expedition Homeric ideas were revived and Agesilaus, before his departure, offered a sacrifice at

The crossing took place in the year 396, and, as may be inferred from Xenophon, in the spring of that year.

Aulis, though not without experiencing opposition from the Thebans, his former allies.

Herodotus, as we have seen, regarded his story of the Persian wars as a continuation of the Iliad. The Lakedaemonians, while carrying on the war against Persia single-handed, sought to enlist on their side the sympathies aroused by the ancient conflict between Greece and Asia. But this conception of the struggle was purely imaginary: its real origin was very different. The satraps had been eager to avenge upon the Lakedaemonians the unsuccessful attack upon Artaxerxes, and the Lakedaemonians now retaliated with all the bitterness of personal animosity. Agesilaus was indeed no apt reproduction of an Homeric hero: he was small and spare in stature, and moreover lame of one foot. But, having originally had no prospect of succeeding to the throne, he had been brought up in all the severity of Spartan discipline. He was consequently temperate and patient, obedient to the orders of his state, ever a friend of her friends, a foe of her foes, and unscrupulous in her service, while his generalship, cool and crafty, enabled him always to deal a blow where it was least expected. The men of Ionia trooped again to the standard of a king who traced his descent from Heracles, and from their ranks he formed a body of cavalry capable of meeting the hitherto invincible horsemen of Persia. Agesilaus infused warlike ardour into all around him. Ephesus awoke from torpor, and appeared a very workshop of Mars. The opinion gained ground that the Persians, individually, were no match for the Hellenes, and were consequently doomed to defeat— an opinion which long ago had emboldened the Greeks to encounter the whole weight of the Persian monarchy. A considerable naval force was, at the demand of Agesilaus, stationed on the Asiatic coast. The enthusiasm of ancient days was revived.

Agesilaus was at first successful, and won two victories in Phrygia and Lydia over Tissaphernes. These victories not only gave the Greeks the upper hand, but brought about the destruction of their chief opponent. Tissaphernes lost the confidence of the king, and at the instigation of the Queen-

Mother, still, as of old, his enemy, atoned for his misfortune with his life. After defeating Tissaphernes, Agesilaus attacked Pharnabazus with equal success. In a battle against him, which he won by means of a surprise, some survivors of the Ten Thousand, led by a general whom Agesilaus had placed over them, won the honours of the day. Agesilaus had already entered into friendly relations with a distinguished Persian named Spithridates, and with Otys, king of Paphla- gonia, and had brought about a matrimonial connexion between them, as the best means of damaging the power of Persia. Thus, victorious in Asia Minor, welcomed by the Ionians, supported by a fleet which gave him command of the sea, and sure of the unfailing adherence of Sparta, he occupied a position of great, importance and seriously endangered the power of the Great King.

But, as we have often had to remark before, the alliance between Greeks and Barbarians showed itself evanescent. In the battle with Pharnabazus, who was in the habit of carrying all his treasures with him during a campaign, a large amount of plunder was taken. The Paphlagonian cavalry made an attempt to carry this away, but the Lakedsemonians were as eager for gold and booty as the barbarians. They took from the Paphlagonians as much as they could, in order to sell it to the merchants who followed the army for the purpose of buying spoil. Indignant at this conduct, the followers of Spithridates and Otys deserted the Greek army, and an alliance so full of promise for the future was thus dissolved. Nevertheless Agesilaus would still have inflicted severe losses on the Persians, had not the latter, in accordance with their ancient policy, turned to the Greeks at home. They had learnt from the Lakedsemonians how Greeks were to be met in war. The method which they had found so efficacious in their struggle with Athens, an alliance with the enemies of that city among the Hellenes, was now adopted against the Lakedsemonians, when the latter threatened to endanger their power. The Lakedaemonians in alliance with Cyrus had made an unsuccessful attempt to interfere in the internal affairs of the Persian Empire. But the Persians now succeeded in shaking the power of Lakedaemon

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by interfering in the internal affairs of Greece, and stirring up hostile feelings against Sparta on every side. Xenophon informs us how much money was expended by Tithraustes the successor of Tissaphernes, in decoying away from allegiance to Sparta some of the leading men of Argos, Corinth, and even Thebes. He was fully aware of the misunderstanding between Sparta and her allies, which had already shown itself in the opposition of Thebes to the sacrifice performed by Agesilaus at Aulis. Athens too had recovered sufficient strength to join the anti-Spartan league thus formed, and needed no bribe to stimulate her activity.

It was again a territorial dispute between Locris and Phokis that lit the flames of civil war. The Thebans hastened to the aid of one of the combatants, the Lakedsemonians to that of the other. Lysander, the man who had made the league with Persia which should have shifted the dominion of the world, was the first victim of the struggle. He fell in a battle against the Boeotians, and all Greece was stirred by the event. Meanwhile danger threatened Sparta from another quarter. Conon, one of the Athenian commanders, had after the defeat of ^Egospotami made his escape to Cyprus, where the Greek element was still powerful. With his assistance, a fleet was equipped in the Phoenician ports, which remained faithful to the king. The Lakedsemonians, hitherto reckoned as the king’s allies, were now regarded as his most dangerous foes. The allied Phoenicians and Athenians were more than a match for the fleet of Agesilaus, the command of which he had entrusted to his brother-in-law Peisander. A battle took place off Cnidus, in August 394. At the first sight of the Athenian ships, which formed the van of the opposing fleet, the allies of the Lakedsemonians took to flight. Peisander, thinking it shame to fly, sought his fate and fell.

About the same time the quarrel was embittered by a sanguinary collision in continental Hellas. Agesilaus had been obliged to give up his great undertaking in Asia. He had crossed the Hellespont, for a direct passage across the ^Egsean was no longer possible, and returned to Greece. Here he won a decided victory over the allies at Coroneia, but the blow did not restore

the old supremacy of Sparta. In Corinth the opposite faction won the upper hand, and war broke out between that city and Sparta. Success was equally balanced until Iphicrates came to the front. This man, an Athenian by birth and a soldier of fortune, had gathered round him a force of bold mercenaries. His soldiers, drilled and equipped after the Thracian fashion, according to methods adopted as early as the Retreat of the Ten Thousand, formed a body of light-armed troops called peltasts, and proved more than a match for the Spartan hoplites in the open field. It was Persian gold that produced these results, for the Synedrion at Corinth received money from Persia, and took Iphicrates into its pay. It was Persian gold again that enabled Conon to restore the Long Walls at Athens.

A few rapid but crushing blows had thus entirely changed the aspect of affairs, and destroyed the Lakedaemonian power in continental Greece. The military superiority of Sparta disappeared, and with it all her prestige. Nor was this all. The gravest anxiety was felt in Sparta when Athens began to recover herself, and to set about the restoration of her ancient maritime supremacy. In this double catastrophe the Lakedaemonians felt that their very existence was at stake, and a complete revolution in their policy was the result. There had always been a party in Sparta which disapproved the war with Persia. This party now bestirred itself again. Its members declared that the only escape from the troubles in which the state was involved lay in peace with Persia, since all the misfortunes which they had experienced were due to the breach with the king. Antalkidas, the leader of this party, had attached himself to Lysander, and maintained his principles throughout all the recent troubles. His persistence at length obtained a hearing, and he was sent first to Asia Minor, and then to the Persian court at Susa, in order to restore peace.

The conditions which were found, satisfactory and acceptable to both sides deserve examination. The most important of them was that which concerned the division of power between Sparta and Persia. After the turn which naval affairs

had taken, Sparta could no longer maintain the authority which she had won on the coasts of Asia Minor and in the Archipelago. On the contrary, the danger was that the supremacy in those districts might pass into the hands of her foes, especially of Athens, now fast recovering her position. It was therefore to the interest of Sparta herself that the supremacy should be restored to the Great King. For Persia this was an enormous gain. The maritime districts, which for years had been the object of continuous war, became hers without any exertion on her part, simply in consequence of the mutual rivalries of the Greeks. The complications in Cyprus caused some difficulty, but, since the Athenians had won the upper hand here as elsewhere, the Spartans without much hesitation resolved to acquiesce in the restoration of Persian dominion in Cyprus. In one point only they showed some respect for Athens. It will be remembered that the Athenian dominion over Lemnos, Imbros, and Scyros was of very ancient date. Accordingly, as her consent was wanted for the peace, it was thought well to leave Athens in possession of the three islands. But all the Greek towns in Asia Minor were to be under the Great King. In a word, the prizes for which Greece and Persia had struggled ?o long, were given up by Lakedaemon to her ancient enemy, and care was taken that no other party should be able to claim them for some time to come.

But this was only one side of the peace. Lakedaemon, seeing herself thwarted and endangered by the close alliance between Argos and Corinth, and by the fairly compact power of Thebes, obtained from the Great King the decision that all towns in Greece should be autonomous. In this direction the ideas of Brasidas had long ago pointed, and Sparta had declared the independence of the colonies and subject districts to be the principle for which she took the field. The revolution which had proved impracticable on the earlier occasion, Sparta now endeavoured to carry out over a wider area. It was not, however, Athens that was aimed at, for her league had not been re-established, but Thebes, which exercised a supremacy over the confederation of free Boeotian cities, of which she was the

head. This supremacy could no longer be suffered to exist. In its suppression the Great King was interested, for it was only from such confederations that danger to the newly established state of things could arise, but the chief gain was on the side of Sparta, which would thus be enabled to get rid of a dangerous rival to her power. She persuaded the Great King to threaten with active hostility any state that should oppose the arrangement just concluded. Strange complications of policy! Lakedaemon, with the support of Persian gold, had overthrown Athens. Then, when the dispute between Sparta and Persia occurred, it was mainly through the exertions of Athens that forces were brought into the field against the former, to cope with which her strength proved insufficient. To avoid the destruction that was impending, Sparta again appealed to Persia for aid. In this way the decisive voice in the affairs of Greece came to be that of the Great King and his satraps in Asia Minor. He now allied himself with Lakedaemon, in order to introduce a system into Greece which should render hopeless any attempt to build up a compact political union. In order to save herself, Lakedaemon was willing to see the rest of Greece destroyed. By the first article of the peace the immediate dominion of Persia was widened to no small extent. By the second, Persia obtained a sort of suzerainty over Greece. This was the upshot of the Peace of Antalkidas (387 B.C.). The power of the Greeks in Asia was thereby given up, and a system of extreme decentralisation was established in Hellas itself. Sparta, however, and Sparta alone, retained her ancient preponderance.

At first all seemed to go well. No sooner did the Spartans perform the usual sacrifices on the frontier, preparatory to an- invasion of the Theban territory, than the Thebans found themselves obliged to surrender their authority over Boeotia, The Spartans followed up this stroke by warning the Corinthians to expel the Argive garrison from their city, and the Argives to withdraw their forces. Thereupon the garrison retired, and the exiled aristocrats were enabled to return. Lastly, Mantineia was compelled to dissolve its union : the in

habitants thenceforward lived, as before, in villages. The Spartans everywhere took up the cause of the weaker party, for instance, that of Plataea in Boeotia, and of Pisa in Elis. All who belonged to this category thus became their friends. They re-established the Peloponnesian League, and ruled over it unopposed. But with one city, namely Thebes, the peace was by no means secure, and here it was that a rising took place which proved fatal to the Spartan power. We come to that page of history on which the names of Thebes and Epameinondas are most prominently inscribed.

In Thebes the oligarchs and democrats, under their respective leaders, were engaged in a deadly struggle. A Spartan army under the command of Phcebidas, destined to carry out the stipulations of the peace in Chalkidike, passed by the city. This gave the oligarchs their opportunity. At the invitation of their leader, Leontiades, who wished to gain the support of Sparta, Phoebidas surprised and occupied the citadel of the Cadmeia.¹ It is not necessary to assume that he had direct commands from Sparta to undertake this enterprise. Agesilaus once remarked that a general was not forbidden to act occasionally on his own initiative : the only point was whether his act was expedient or not. Now nothing could have appeared more expedient than the seizure of the citadel of Thebes. That citadel formed a strong position on the great road to the north, and Leontiades had expressly proposed that, so soon as the oligarchy should be restored in Thebes, the Thebans should unite with the Spartans. Phcebidas himself is described to us as an ambitious man, desirous of distinguishing himself, but lacking in real caution.

The result of the event was what might have been foreseen. The democrats, expelled by the victorious oligarchs, found refuge in Athens, as Thrasybulus on a former occasion had found refuge in Thebes. Some years, however, elapsed before they were able to return. At length, aided by their acquaintances in the city, they came back, and, with mingled ferocity and cunning, rid Thebes of the Polemarchs who ruled her.²

' Curtins places the occurrence in 01. 99, 2, i.e. 483B.C., Clinton in 01. 99, 3.

² Plutarch, in the Life oj Pelopidas, chaps. 7-12, and in the treatise on the

This event brought prominently forward the two men whose names are imperishably linked with that of Thebes, Pelopidas and Epameinondas. The former led the returning democrats, the latter prepared the Theban youth to aid them in their attempt when the decisive moment should arrive.

Epameinondas was descended from a family which traced its origin to the times of Cadmus, a family of limited means, but widely known for hospitality. Among others a disciple of Pythagoras, whose school had been dispersed in all directions, just then sought refuge in Thebes, and became an inmate of the house. Epameinondas, in his youth, took part in all that Hellenic education demanded, but grew up principally under the care of this old philosopher, whose instruction he preferred to every other amusement. Under him he probably acquired a habit for which he was much commended, the habit, that is, of listening with self-restraint and attention to every one who spoke to him, and of withholding his objections till the speaker had concluded his remarks. His was one of those characters in which moderation and temperance, prudence and self-respect, a quiet and thoughtful judgment, seem to be innate. Such qualities cannot fail to impress all who come in contact with them, and to secure for their possessor a certain moral authority. Epameinondas was so poor diat he is said to have been obliged to remain at home when his cloak was at the fuller’s, but the uprightness which he showed in all positions of trust procured for him, especially in the conduct of financial affairs, a leading position. The excesses of Bceotian festivity had no attraction for him. He was so taciturn that one of his friends remarked he was

Dimon of Socrates, gives a detailed narrative of this event, which it is impossible to read without interest. I confess that I can see in his story nothing but a romantic and highly coloured account of a simple event. What Xenophon tells us is no doubt the truth, and even he found different versions of the story already in existence. The simplest of these is perhaps contained in the words, ‘£>s KftyxcwTcfcs elae\0cii/Tcts roiis afxQl yi4ka>va atroKTeivai robs irokefxdpxovs * (Xen. Bell. v. 4, 7). That there was a banquet is certain ; whether the murderers really introduced themselves in the guise of women is very doubtful; as for the rest of the story, I cannot bring myself to believe it. The event took place in 01. loo,

2, in the winter of the year 379 B.C. (Plutarch, Pelopidas, chap. 2 : cf. Xen. Hell. 4, 14).

acquainted with no one who knew so much and said so little: but what he said was so much to the point as to become proverbial. In his military exercises he paid attention, not so much to the development of bodily strength as to activity and the proper use of weapons. He is said to have bidden the young men about him not to take credit for their strength, but rather to count it shame that they tamely endured the dominion of the Lakedsemonians in spite of their own superiority. Even a narrow and exclusive patriotism can give birth to feelings of enthusiasm, provided that it summon the traditions of a glorious past to aid it in shaking off the opprobrium of the present. Such patriotism is fostered by rivalry with neighbouring states, especially when the latter are of overpowering strength. The splendid personal qualities of Epameinondas, his culture, his zeal in gymnastic exercises, his military talents, his generalship, so inventive and original as to amount to genius, shone with peculiar lustre owing to the fact that, before all things, he was a good Theban.

Pelopidas, though belonging to a wealthy and distinguished family, attached himself closely to Epameinondas. Through his friendship Epameinondas was, as it were, raised to an equality with the class to which Pelopidas belonged. On one occasion Epameinondas refused to leave Pelopidas when grievously wounded, determined that at any rate the enemy should not have his corpse. He made use of the influence gained by such devotion to draw his friend over to his views. In the undertaking through which Thebes was freed, Pelopidas was the most prominent figure. But his success would not have been permanent had not the youth of Thebes been brought up under the influence of Epameinondas, and prepared to take advantage of the occasion.

In circumstances where the general interests of Hellas were at stake, Greek patriotism was seldom active. It was prominent where the interests of separate states were concerned ; and among the states of Greece, Thebes was not unimportant. She could claim to be regarded as the third city of Hellas, and it was due to the efforts of these two friends that this claim became a reality. On the department of mili

tary affairs they bestowed the most attentive study. War was now becoming a science and an art, and from Agesilaus himself, in his repeated invasions of Boeotia, they are said to have learnt much. Their primary object was to overthrow the autonomy established by the peace of Antalkidas. They recovered their hold upon Platsea, and in a short time we find the Boeotarchs reappearing as Theban officials.

Plutarch relates a conversation between Epameinondas and Agesilaus, which sets clear y before us the importance of this dispute. To the question, whether Thebes would leave the cities of Boeotia free, Epameinondas answered with the question, whether Sparta would give the Messenians their freedom. The weapon which the peace of Antalkidas had placed in the hands of Sparta was thereby turned against Sparta herself. The question could only be decided by an appeal to arms. The Thebans knew well how to develope the tendency to comradeship which was common to all Greeks, and is based upon personal honour, and the result was the Sacred Band. The Spartan hoplites found their match in the Theban infantry, while to the Theban cavalry they had nothing to oppose. The Spartan king, Cleombrotus, stung by the suspicion of leanings towards Thebes, determined upon battle under the excitement of a banquet. The Thebans had the advantage of a leader in Epameinondas, whose cool judgment enabled him to take advantage of every opportunity. On the plain of Leuctra the Spartans were, for the first time in history, completely defeated. (July 7 or 8, B.C. 371.)

In the two Theban leaders, as we have seen, there throbbed a pulse for the greatness of their state, which urged them, even against the will of their fellow-countrymen, to the boldest efforts. The year after the battle they undertook, chiefly at the invitation of the Peloponnesians, an invasion of Laconia. In this attempt it would appear that they exceeded their powers, for in the army there were many who raised their voices against the campaign. This, however, only spurred them to greater exertions, in order to anticipate a change of feeling which might force them to give way to leaders whose opinions differed from their own. The allies joined forces at Sellasia,

and marched down the valley of the Eurotas. The Spartan ladies were horror-struck when they beheld the smoke of burning villages driving over the plain. Agesilaus is said to have been unable to conceal his admiration when he saw Epameinondas, but it was due to his courageous resistance that the Thebans met with a rebuff at the Hippodrome in front of Sparta. This, however, did not hinder the restoration of Messenia. To the music of Argive and Boeotian flutes a new city arose on Ithome, the scene of Messenian exploits in days of old. The Perioeki and Helots, whom it was no longer possible to distinguish from Messenians, were admitted to all the privileges of the latter.

This done, Pelopidas and Epameinondas returned to Thebes, and were actually brought to trial for acting without orders. ‘ Let us then set up a column,’ said Epameinondas,

‘ with an inscription that I was condemned because I compelled you to conquer at Leuctra; because I made all Greece free in one day ; because I restored Messenia, and surrounded Sparta with a perpetual blockade.’ In words like these we see that lofty self-respect which in later times has been regarded as a distinctive feature of the Roman character.

At this time everything in Greece depended on the attitude of Athens. It appeared to be her interest at a crisis so disastrous to Sparta, to form an alliance with the enemies of her ancient foe. A popular assembly was, held, in which the Athenians were reminded of the wrongs which they had repeatedly suffered at the hands of Spartans, and of the constant efforts of Sparta to undermine the greatness of Athens. But these times were long past, and even a popular assembly can pass resolutions in which passion has no part. In Athens the ancient hate of Sparta gave way before a new-born jealousy of Thebes. The Athenians felt that if they made common cause with the Thebans to crush Lakedasmon, their own destruction at the hands of the former would be the speedy and certain consequence. They therefore resolved to support the Lakedeemonians with all their force, a step which at once checked the progress of Thebes. In the conflict that arose, it was a matter of no small moment that Sparta still possessed

the benefit of Persian aid. An envoy of the Phrygian satrap, Ariobarzanes, appeared at Delphi. His primary object was to establish a compromise. This failing, he made use of the money with which he was abundantly provided, to raise an army of mercenaries in aid of Sparta. In this manner an alliance was formed between Persia, Athens, and Sparta, which seemed calculated to restore the prestige of Sparta, so grievously shaken by Thebes. To escape destruction, the Thebans hit upon the idea of claiming Persian help for themselves (368-7 B.C.). Such reversals of policy had already taken place in Greek history. A similar step had been taken by Athens during the Peloponnesian war, and by Sparta in the time of her greatest peril.

Even Pelopidas so far overcame his pride as to seek help in person at the court of Artaxerxes. The first Persian war was not yet forgotten, and the remark of Pelopidas, that the present enemies of Thebes had been of old the most formidable opponents of the Great King, won him admission to the Persian court. It was moreover clear that the Persians would never have anything to fear from Thebes; while, on the other hand, Athens, now in alliance with Sparta, was displaying a restless and dangerous activity. She had restored the ancient league of Delos. The recollection of her former greatness impelled her, as of old, towards the coast of Asia Minor, and fostered in Athenian bosoms a spirit of hostility to Persia. It might be said that the Spartans were now rather the allies of the Athenians, than Athens the ally of Sparta.

It thus came about that the influence over Grecian affairs, which Persia constantly exerted herself to maintain, now entered upon a new phase. The king broke off his connexion with Sparta, and lent a willing ear to the proposals of Pelopidas. The Persians had hitherto rejected the Theban claim that the enactments of the peace of Antalkidas should be extended to Messenia. The king now made amends by issuing an edict that Messenia should be recognised as independent of Sparta, while at the same time he warned the Athenian fleet to put back again into port. A Persian am-

bassador accompanied Pelopidas back again to Thebes in order to prove the authenticity of this edict by showing the seal appended to it. We are not informed that the execution of the king’s commands was supported by presents of money, and we may infer the contrary from the fact that the Arcadians, who had taken part in the embassy to Persia, complained of the poverty of the king’s treasury, and declared that not even a grasshopper could find shelter in the fabled shade of his golden plane tree. Nevertheless the declaration of the king, whom the Greeks were now accustomed to regard as a sort of arbiter in their disputes, was of great importance to Thebes, and enabled her to establish an understanding with Argos and Messenia.

Tegea and a great part of Arcadia were also allied with Thebes, but another part of Arcadia, under the leadership of Mantineia, had deserted the Theban league. In order to recover the latter, Epameinondas again took the field. A battle took place at Mantineia in which all the forces of Greece met in conflict. A final decision seemed to hang upon the event. Epameinondas displayed all the foresight and military talent peculiar to him, and was on the point of winning the day, when he was mortally wounded by an arrow. He would not allow it to be withdrawn until he had heard that the Thebans were victorious. He died as a Theban for the independence of Thebes—we can hardly say for the independence of Hellas.

By means of the recent treaty'between Persia and Thebes the influence of the former upon the internal affairs of Greece was advanced a step further, and was only confirmed by the issue of the battle, the result of which, especially owing to the death of Epameinondas, was by no means decisive. Xenophon, who breaks off his histoiy at this point, expresses an opinion that a balance of power among the Grecian cities and states still existed. Athens had been prevented by Sparta from usurping the hegemony of Hellas. Sparta had been thwarted by Athens and Thebes. Thebes was now held in check by Athens and Sparta. This state of things prevented the formation of a compact power, or even the union of all

Grecian states in a common confederation. The more powerful states were constantly engaged in warfare with each other, and dragged the weaker into the conflict. Their only aim was to get possession of the means which enabled them to overpower their neighbours. Once accustomed to draw subsidies from abroad, the Spartans scrupled not to accept payment from those who were engaged in rebellion against the king. When the king gave judgment against them in the question of Messenia and formed an alliance with Thebes, the Spartans felt no further obligation towards him. It is a blot on the character of Agesilaus that, after being the first to undertake a great war against the Persians, he now entered the service of a tyrant of Egypt. His assistance conferred some solidity on the Egyptian revolt, established Nectanebus on the Egyptian throne, and confirmed the independence of Egypt for some years.

A complete change in the political situation had not been contemplated by Agesilaus. The chief motive of his action was the necessity under which the Spartans lay of obtaining extraneous assistance against their Hellenic neighbours. Such assistance Agesilaus provided for them. Nectanebus dismissed him with a considerable present of money. Agesilaus died on the way home (358 B.C.), but the money which he brought with him reached Laconia, and the Spartans were again enabled to play an active part in the wars of Greece. The anti-Spartan league was still in existence, and found the support it needed in the restored power of Messenia. The warfare never ceased. Diodorus mentions five battles in one year. In the first of these the Lakedaemonians won a victory over a far more numerous body of the enemy, while in the three following battles the allies had the upper hand. The fifth however, and the most important of all, was a victory for Lakedaemon. An armistice was the result.

We have already pointed out the danger to all Hellas involved in the selfishness which produced the peace of Antalkidas. But the state which suffered most was Sparta herself. She bled to death from the wounds which she thought to inflict upon others. Sparta was indeed no longer

the Sparta of Lycurgus. The introduction of the Periceki and Helots into the army, which had lately been determined on, was at variance with his ideas. Moreover, so many of the Spartiates had fallen in the late wars that the old democratic aristocracy which they formed had no longer any vitality. Aristotle recognises only one thousand families of the ancient Spartiates ; and their landed possessions, the very groundwork of their state and its discipline, had in great measure passed into the hands of women. The time when Sparta could maintain her supremacy single-handed was gone by. Athens, at this time allied with Sparta, could on her side no longer maintain the restored naval league. When she attempted to revive her old supremacy, Chios, Rhodes, and Cos, probably with the assistance of the Carian despot, Mausolus, rose in rebellion against her. On the outskirts of the league, Byzantium was in revolt. Athens was no longer strong enough to reduce the rebels to obedience. In an attack upon Chios, Chabrias perished. He might have saved himself by swimming, but held it unworthy of him to leave his ship, and preferred to die on board with arms in his hand. Chares was not the man to replace the fallen admiral, and Athens had to content herself with retaining the smaller islands in her league. A power so mutilated was very different from that which had been once so formidable.

This decay in the power of Athens and Sparta, and of Greece in general, cannot be attributed to want of energy. The science and practice of war, both by land and sea, had, never been carried to a higher pitch of excellence. The generals mentioned to us by name appear, without exc;ption, to have been experienced and thoughtful commanders. But, as we have seen even in Pelopidas, they had no idea of a great confederation which could embrace all individualities. It has been already remarked that patriotic feelings were found only in connexion with separatism, a national peculiarity which it has been reserved for the history of Germany to repeat. The development of military strength in individual states, and the weakness of the nation at large, were to each other as cause and effect. With the feebleness of the Greek republics

the development of the mercenary system went hand in hand. Mercenaries, ready to serve any one for pay, were the only troops now worthy of the name of soldiers.

At this epoch the Persian power again rose to a dangerous height After a sanguinary and fratricidal contest, Artaxerxes Ochus had ascended the throne of Persia (359-8 B.C.). Artabazus, who, as Karanos of Asia Minor, held a position superior t6 that of an ordinary satrap, undertook to make himself independent, and with the aid of Greek mercenaries was at first successful in repelling the satraps sent against him. A corps of Thebans were his chief support. The king defeated the rebellious satrap by sending a sum of three hundred talents to the Thebans, who thereupon deserted their employer. Artabazus was forced to fly, and took refuge with Philip, king of Makedonia. ,

The growing power of Persia caused much anxiety to the Greeks, and it was proposed at Athens to take the lead of the Hellenic race in a national war against the Persians. But Demosthenes, the leading orator of his time, declared himself against the proposal. He objected, and doubtless with good reason, that the Persian king, if attacked, would raise enemies against the Athenians in Greece itself and imperil the safety of Athens. Demosthenes refrained from opposing feelings so deeply rooted in the national mind as those which centred round a war with Persia, but he gave it as his opinion that Athens must first of all muster all her resources and make herself formidable, for not till then would she find allies for the great undertaking. Regarded independ- dently of these considerations, the occasion was no unfit one for attacking the Persians. Not only did Egypt under Nectanebus continue to maintain a hostile attitude towards the king, but just at this moment Phoenicia too broke out in revolt. It is not clear whether the rebellion began with a casual insurrection, or owing to a formal resolution in Tripolis. At any rate the Phoenicians struck a close alliance with Nectanebus and destroyed the pleasure-house or paradeisos, in which the Persian magnates, when they visited the country, used to reside. Many Persians who had been guilty of acts

of violence were murdered. The neighbouring satraps were not slow in making war upon the rebels, but their attacks were repelled by the Prince of Sidon, who had summoned to his aid a strong body of Greek mercenaries from Egypt. Cyprus too joined the league. The nine so-called kings of the cities of Cyprus hoped through the Phoenician insurrection to obtain their own independence, and therefore joined in the revolt. If the Greeks had taken part in these movements the Persian power would have been exposed to great danger.

Just the opposite, however, took, place. The Prince of Caria, summoned by Artaxerxes against Cyprus, not only collected a goodly fleet, but also an army, over which the Athenian Phokion was placed in command. Phokion had little difficulty in reducing the Cyprian princes. At this moment Ochus had brought together a great force by sea and land, with which he hoped to subdue both Egypt and Phoenicia. At sight of this army, which made as formidable an appearance as any by which the Phoenicians had been defeated on previous occasions, the Prince of Sidon lost courage. He resolved, without further scruple, to betray his allies, the Egyptians, to the king, for it. was only by paying this price that he could hope for forgiveness. He sent the king secret information that he was in a position to give him the best opening for the conquest of Egypt, being on good terms with many in the country, especially with the dwellers on the coasts. Ochus is said to have hesitated for a moment, gladly as he heard these proposals, before accepting them by stretching out his right hand—the form which was necessary to render his acceptance valid. The envoy declared that, if this were not done, his master would consider himself released from all his promises, whereupon Artaxerxes Ochus gave the desired assurance. Sidon was betrayed to the Persians by a horrible act of treachery on the part of its own prince, who had won over the Greek mercenaries to ensure succcss for his plan. In the midst of violence and treason the inhabitants of Sidon once again displayed the unconquerable resolution of the ancient Phoenician race. They had burnt their ships in order that no one might withdraw himself

by flight from the duties of defence. Now that the foe was within their walls they shut themselves up and set fire to their houses. The number of the dead was reckoned as high as forty thousand. In spite of his plighted word, King Ochus put to death the prince who had betrayed his city.

His death did not interfere with the campaign against Egypt, for which Ochus had already made the most extensive preparations. Special embassies were sent to demand aid of the Greek cities. Athens and Sparta promised to remain neutral. The importance of this is clear when we recollect that it was these two cities which had set up and maintained the independence of Egypt. The Thebans and the Argives were less scrupulous. They had no hesitation in sending their hoplites to help the Persians against Egypt. -The Argives were led by Nicostratus, a man of enormous bodily strength, who imagined himself a second Heracles, and went to battle clothed in a lion’s skin and armed with a club. The mercenary troops from Greece and Asia Minor, who sailed to the aid of Artaxerxes, formed together a body of ten thousand men. When we consider that the mercenaries of Greek descent who had come from Egypt also went over to the king, the success of the latter may fairly be attributed not so much to the Persian force as to the Greeks by whom he was assisted.

It resulted from the general position of affairs that Nectanebus on his side too sought aid from the Greeks. He had made all possible preparations, but unfortunately he neither possessed the qualities requisite for the control of so large a force, nor could he bear to stand aside and leave the command to the mercenary captains who were capable of exercising it. In spite of their promise, some Spartans and Athenians had come to his aid, it appears, without the authority of their governments, and their leaders, Diophantus of Athens, and Lamius of Sparta, would have been in a position to rescue Nectanebus if he had left them freedom of action. When he retreated to Memphis it became impossible to defend Pelusium. Among the Hellenes on either side a strange kind of rivalry made its appearance. Although in hostile

B B

camps, those on the one side sought to excel those on the other in feats of arms. Nevertheless a good understanding between the Greek mercenaries and the Orientals, whose cause they had espoused, could not long be maintained. Moreover, the old prestige of the Persian monarch recovered its influence with the Egyptians. They were assured that the sooner they got rid of the Greek garrisons which occupied their fortresses, the more easily would they recover favour with the king. It had always been so. At every decisive crisis the longing to gain the king’s favour had led to the submission of his rebellious subjects. The Persians were now laying siege to Bubastus. The Egyptians betook themselves to the eunuch Bagoas, who possessed the chief authority in the king’s council, and begged him to use his influence with the king on their behalf. The Greeks, on their side, discovered this intrigue, and communicated with Mentor, the commander of the Greek mercenaries in the pay of Persia, who had already distinguished himself at the capture of Sidon.

It must be allowed that the course taken by the Egyptians was but natural. The Oriental nations who fought their battles with Grecian arms were well advised in resolving to come to terms with each other and drive out the Greeks. But this time the attempt was unsuccessful. Mentor promised his aid to the Greek garrison, and when, in accordance with the wishes of the Egyptians in the town, a body of Persians marched in to expel the Greeks, a union of the Greek forces in the two camps took place. A hand-to-hand conflict resulted in the defeat of the Persians and Egyptians. Bagoas was in the greatest danger, and owed his life only to the intervention of Mentor.¹ The combined Greek forces might possibly have been able at this moment to wrest Egypt from the dominion of Persia. But what could they have done with Egypt ? Mentor had no intention of

¹ The reduction of Egypt is placed by Diodorus in the archonship of Apollo- dorus, B.C. 350-49. Boeckh (on Manetho and the dog-star period in Schmidt’s Zeitschrift fur Geschichtswissenschaft, ii., p. 780) places the event, in accordance with the indications of Manetho, in the year 340 B.C.

making such a conquest. He looked at the question from the point of view of personal interest, and concluded a treaty —so we are positively assured—with Bagoas, by which the two commanders agreed to divide the supreme power. Bagoas promised thenceforward to do nothing without previously informing Mentor and obtaining his permission. This was equivalent to a partition of power, since the control of the Persian administration was in the hands of Bagoas. The agreement was confirmed by mutual oaths, and was faithfully kept. The result was that Mentor became omnipotent in Asia Minor. He collected a large body of Hellenic mercenaries for the service of Artaxerxes, and in his new position displayed both prudence and good faith. It is clear that these events changed the whole aspect of affairs in the then known world. Egypt and Asia Minor again obeyed the king of Persia, and it was Greek intervention which had produced this great result.

The historian of later times who observes the mutual relations of Greece and Persia must be strongly impressed by the fact that neither the one nor the other formed a really independent power. On the one hand, the internal affairs of Greece were constantly subject to the influence of the Great King. On the other hand, the empire of Persia depended upon the support which it received from the military resources of Greece. But a change was at hand. Between these two powers a third arose which, starting from small beginnings, speedily threatened to become the strongest of the three.

BIZ

CHAPTER X.

THE MAKEDONIAN EMPIRE.

Not only are arms indispensable to a community for the purpose of external action, but without arms it is inconceivable that a community can hold together. Mankind at large is constantly occupied with those natural hostilities in which nations and political societies become involved. Every community must be in a position to defend itself and all who belong to it, otherwise it cannot provide the necessary protection for individual freedom and activity. The security of the nation as a whole is an indispensable condition for the security of the individual. To maintain this security is the principal object of human combinations : it is the common aim of all constitutions. Care is bestowed upon this object in proportion to the severity of the hostilities which may be expected, and the Greek republics were organised only for a conflict with their equals. But when whole nations come into collision, a more complete political organisation is necessary. There must exist a supreme authority capable of uniting all the forces of the nation against foreign enemies. In the collision of powers, military monarchies are formed, whose success depends, not so much upon their numerical superiority, as upon their military organisation. War is inevitable, and a battle lost or won decides the fate of nations for ages to come. The course of the world’s history depends upon attack and resistance.

What, then, is a power ? Only such a national community as is organised and equipped alike for attack and defence. Neither the Greeks nor the Persians in their long struggle with each

other had been able to arrive at such an organisation. Between these two the Makedonians now made their appearance, and the Makedonians succeeded in creating a real power. The influence which they exerted may be fairly styled immeasurable. It was an influence which forms an epoch in the history of the world

Philip, King of Makedon, and Demosthenes.

Among the peoples of Thracian nationality who occupied the confines of Asia, and with whom the Greeks in the establishment of their northern colonies came in contact, powers of native origin and some importance had now and then been set up. Such a power was that of Sitalkes, who was able to bring into the field an army of 150,000 men. These powers were of short duration. It was different with the dynasty, probably of Greek origin, which ruled in the mountainous territory of Emathia.¹ This dynasty held sway over a group of half-barbarian clans who had settled in that district, as others had settled in Epeirus. Though in habitual contact with Thracians and Illyrians, it maintained its vitality, and gradually became important. Strabo ■ says that the Makedonian people consisted of Thracians and Illyrians, but it is undeniable that Hellenic elements contributed in a greater degree than perhaps any other to the formation of the state. It is still a question whether the Makedonians should be regarded as barbarised Hellenes, or Hellenised barbarians : a coalition of both elements may be inferred from their earliest traditions. This is of importance in its bearing on the course of universal history, into the scope of which the nation in question enters at this point. Originating in a fusion of diverse elements, and surrounded by neighbours belong' In the two traditions of the foundation of the Makedonian Empire, given by Herodotus (viii. 137), and by Justin (vii. I), who repeats Theopompus, the following important facts are common to both, viz. the descent of the kings from Heracles, the mention of Midas, the first seat of their power, and the gradual nature of their conquest. In Eusebius there is a further legend that the king of the Orestians being at war with his neighbours, the Eordians, sought help of the Karanos of Makedon, and gave him half of his kingdom as recompense (Eusebius, i., p. 227, ed. Schone).

ing to a different race, it presents a character unique in

history. _

Before the battle of Platsea, the Makedonian prince rode up to the Grecian camp to signify his sympathy ; for, as he said, he was a Greek, though king of the Makedonians. The sum of Makedonian history consists in this mutual action, and re-action of the Greek and Makedonian elements upon each other.

We have already made mention of King Perdiccas, who waged war with his neighbours with constant fluctuations of fortune. For his own purposes, he summoned to his aid the Lakedsemonians under Brasidas, who, in helping him, took care to look after their own interests. On this occasion the superiority of Greek military skill over that of the northern barbarians first made itself felt. After several variations of policy, the Illyrians ventured to attack the Greeks, to whom they were vastly superior in point of numbers. The speech which Thukydides puts in the mouth of Brasidas on this occasion is of importance in universal history. He promises the Greeks that they will repel the disorderly and noisy attack of the Illyrians, if they will only retreat in the close order of battle which he had taught them to maintain. The success of this measure was complete, and aroused universal admiration. It was the first time in these regions, where war was still conducted in barbaric fashion, that an army in close battle array made its appearance, and won a victory.

Greek culture had also its attractions for the Makedonians. At the court of Archelaus,¹ poets and musicians found an asylum in which they were disturbed by no civic strife. There, it was said, they could breathe freely. The court was, however, in constant dependence on the Greeks, whose influence was decisive in the troubles between the reigning family and its subjects.

¹ Archelaus was son of Perdiccns, whose death is placed in the archonship of Peisander, 01. 91, 3, i.e. 414-13 B.C. (Clinton, Fasti Hell. ii. 223.) If we are to believe Syncellus (p. 263, A. ed. Par.), whose statements about the dates of the Makedonian kings are taken, according to Scaliger, from Dexippus, according to Karl Muller (Fragm. Hist. Grizc., iii. p. 672), from Porphyrius, Archelaus reigned fourteen years, and was murdered in the archonship of Laches (Diodorus, xiv. 37), e.c. 399.

Amyntas had himself enjoyed the benefit of a Greek education, and when, upon his death, which took place in 370 - 69 B.C., fresh disturbances broke out, his widow Eurydike sought help of the Thebans. Pelopidas appeared as an arbiter between the parties, and the queen entrusted to him her young son Philip, who followed the famous general back to Thebes. This prince was Philip, the father of Alexander the Great. Nothing could have been more favourable to a soldier’s education than a few years’ sojourn in Thebes, whose military greatness at that time was such as to form an epoch in Grecian history. Philip lived in a family which enjoyed the intimacy of Epameinondas. After three years, he was recalled (365 B.C.), and at first entrusted with the administration of a small district under his brother’s rule. After the death of the latter, a career of the widest prospects, but full of danger, lay before him.¹ The land was threatened by Illyrians and Pseonians, while a number of pretenders were struggling for the throne, and supporting themselves by the aid of foreign powers. In this plight, Philip set about the formation of an efficient army on the principles of Epameinondas, whose military system undoubtedly supplied him both with stimulus and example. Following in his footsteps he gradually developed the phalanx,² formed a body of peltasts from among the mountaineers of his country, and established a well-drilled body of cavalry. With these forces he repulsed the Illyrians, and compelled their garrisons to evacuate the Makedonian towns which they had occupied. It was his military establishment which gave him the upper hand in Makedonia.

‘ He found you,’ so Arrian makes the son of Philip say to

¹ According to Satyrus, in Athenasus, xiii. p. 557 C., Philip ruled twenty-two years; according to Diodorus (xiv. 1), twenty-four years ; according to Syncellus, twenty-three years. As Philip was murdered in the second half of the year 336, in the archonship of Pythodemus, the beginning of his reign should be set about the year 359 B.C.

² Diodorus (xvi. 2) mentions the Homeric Synaspismus, or locking of shields, which Philip imitated (€Trev6r](Te rfyv rrjs (pdXayyos irvKvirrjra ml KaracrKtvtyv, fiLjiTjad/jLtvos rbv iv Tpoiq, r€>v r)p(&oov (rvva(nnafx6v). Eustathius, on Iliad, iv. 150, remarks that Lycurgus introduced something of the same kind in his legislation, but that Lysander was the first to introduce it among the Spartans, Charidemus among the Arcadians, Epameinondas among the Boeotians.

the Makedonians, ‘ clothed in skins, feeding your sheep upon the mountains, a prey to Illyrians, Triballi, and Thracians ; he led you down from your mountain heights, and made you a match for your enemies, by enabling you to make use not only of the roughness of your country, but of your own innate valour. You were slaves of the barbarians, and he made you their leaders.’

A king of their own blood was readily followed by the aristocracy of the land. Philip introduced the custom that the younger members of the noblest families should do service at his court, and accompany him in the chase. In this manner incongruous elements united to lay the foundation of a new military empire. The art and practice of war, so highly developed by the Greeks, were combined with the aristocratic and popular elements which rallied to the banner of a native king. The political importance of these reforms lies in this : that Philip, while imitating the Greeks, raised up an independent power at their gates. He not only emancipated Makedonia from the dominant Greek influence, but he raised his country to a position of vantage whence it could advance against Greece.

It could not be doubtful for a moment what would be the aim of Philip’s first efforts. It was the natural object of Makedonia to get possession of the stretch of coast which was occupied by the Greeks. Greek disunion was in this matter Philip’s best ally. The Greek settlement of Olynthus, situated on the coast of Thrace and Makedon, on the very confines of either nation, and in alliance with all its neighbours, had come into notice during the times of the Peloponnesian war, and had gradually acquired a considerable power. The number of civic communities in alliance with or subject to Olynthus was reckoned at about thirty. By military means this city kept the neighbouring Thracian princes in dependence, and held control over Lower Makedonia with its mixed population. A better support for Greece in general than such a state could not be found, and it was especially fitted to keep Makedonia within proper bounds. But upon the fate of Olynthus, the peace of Antalkidas, whether intentionally or by chance, had a destructive influence.

The enactment that all Greek cities were to be autonomous was carried out by Sparta in the north as well as elsewhere. This was just what the Makedonians wanted. But the liberation of subject cities was not carried out so thoroughly in the case of Olynthus, as to prevent that city from quickly rising again to a considerable power. The result of this was that she came into collision with Athens, just then occupied, with the connivance of Persia, in the restoration of her colonial empire. While Athens seized places like Methone and Pydna, the Olynthians succeeded in winning Amphipolis, a town on the possession of which the Athenians had always laid the greatest importance.

This rivalry between the two cities, with both of which Philip had to deal if he was to make himself master of his own country, was of the greatest assistance to him. It is at this point that we first make acquaintance with the doubledealing and unscrupulous policy with which Philip consistently pursued his own advantage. In the shifting course of events it came about that Amphipolis received a Makedonian garrison. Athenian ambition was still directed towards recovering possession of that town, and Philip could make no greater concession to Athens, than by withdrawing his troops. The Athenians, to whom he had agreed to hand over Amphipolis, promised him in its stead Pydna, the old fortress of the Temenidse from whom the Makedonian kings traced their descent. But Philip had no real intention of handing over Amphipolis to the Athenians. After a short time, he garrisoned the town anew, and at the same time got possession of Pydna (355 B.C.). He also took Potidsea, and handed it over to the Olynthians, with whom he was anxious to keep on good terms. Lastly, he garrisoned Methone (353 B.C.).

These movements resulted in open war between Makedonia and Athens, a war destined to be decisive for both parties. It was a war of arms and diplomacy. Demosthenes, whose sound judgment enabled him to weigh accurately the relative importance of facts, defines the position with admirable clearness from a military point of view.¹ He points out that ¹ In the 3rd Philippic, § 47 ff., p. 123 ff.

Philip waged war, not only with the heavy-armed phalanx, but with light-armed troops, cavalry, archers, and mercenaries. A force of this kind was entirely different from that of the Lakedaemonians and other Greek states, whose troops remained only four months in the field, and then returned home. Philip, on the contrary, waged war at all seasons. If he found no opposition in the open country, he took to besieging the fortified towns. The difference between his diplomacy and that of his enemies was not less important. In the democratic republic, everything depended upon the issue of public discussions : the king, on the other hand, took counsel only with himself. Demosthenes ascribed the losses which Athens suffered principally to the negligence of the republican government, and consistently maintained that it was the possession of Methone and Potidsea, which Philip had again occupied, that secured his control over the whole district.

Philip was, in fact, the incarnation of the military monarchy. He was in a position to carry out his plans with precision the moment he had conceived them. His troops were an instrument applicable to every kind of service. Athens was at this moment hampered by the naval war which resulted in the loss of her allies, Philip, on the other hand, through his seizure of the mines of Crenides, famous as far back as the time of Herodotus, made himself master of a source of wealth which was indispensable for the payment of his mercenaries. Both from the political and military point of view, he was now entirely independent.

But these events, important as they were, would not have alone sufficed to make his success permanent. It was not so easy to eradicate the ancient influence of Athens in those regions over which she had so long held sway. Other events, however, took place, which gave King Philip the opportunity of taking up a position in the centre of Greece, and dealing a fatal blow at Athens from that point of vantage. Among these events was one which was thoroughly characteristic of the political anarchy then prevailing in Hellas. What should have proved a bond of union for the Greeks, led, more than anything else, to their disruption.

The Phokians, who shortly before had been freed by the Thebans from the dominion of Sparta, were resolved not to put up with the dominion of Thebes. They were eager to secure a separate independence, and resolved to rid themselves for ever of the inconvenient influence exercised by the Delphic priesthood. They claimed, on the authority of a line of Homer, that the presidency of the shrine belonged of right to them. An adventurous leader named Philomelus succeeded in seizing the temple, not without the secret support of Sparta, with a force composed of Phokians and foreign mercenaries (357-6 B.C.).¹ This naturally aroused the hostility of Thebes, and under Theban influence a meeting of the Amphictyonic Council was held, at which it was resolved to protect the temple, and to declare war upon the Phokians. Philomelus availed himself of the treasures of the temple, as Sparta made use of Egyptian money, and Philip of the mines of Crenides. But his action had been too outrageous to allow him to maintain his position, and the treasures of the temple were insufficient for a real war. Defeated by superior forces, and wounded in the conflict, Philomelus, in order to avoid the disgrace of capture, threw himself from a precipice (354-—3 B.C.). The situation was, however, little altered by his death. The Phokians found another leader in Onomarchus, the head of one of their noblest families. This man took the place of Philomelus, and managed, by dint of constant warfare with his neighbours, to maintain his position.

We have now arrived at a point where it will be necessary to explain how it was that a Makedonian king who did not belong to the Hellenic society came to interfere in these disturbances. It came about as follows. The Thessalians, who of old belonged to the Amphictyonic league, were thoroughly at one with Thebes in their effort to put an end to the disgraceful state of things at Delphi. But among themselves they were as disunited as the Greeks in general. The family of the Aleuadse, who exerted a dominant influence in Thessaly, were opposed by the reigning family of Pherae,

¹ Schafer (Demosthenes und seine Zeit> ii. p. 449) ^^xes the beginning of the war in the first months of the year 355 B.C.

at whose head was Lycophron. This man, perhaps under the influence of a bribe, made common cause with Onomarchus, and thus enabled the latter, now in every respect well armed, to contemplate the overthrow of the Aleuadae, and therewith the reduction of the whole of Thessaly. The centre of interest was thus transferred from the general dispute to a quarrel in the interior of Thessaly, the most important aspect of which was the feud between the tyrant of Pherje and the Thessalians in alliance with the Amphictyonic league. The latter, finding themselves in danger of being crushed by Onomarchus, called in the aid of Philip.

Philip at first met with considerable success. But when Onomarchus came to the aid of Lycophron with superior forces, the king had to give way. Twice beaten in the open field, and finding his hold upon his mercenaries relaxing, he retired to Makedonia. Here he found means of recruiting his forces, and again invaded Thessaly, with 20,000 infantry and 3,000 horse. Meanwhile, Onomarchus had made considerable progress in Boeotia, and, when summoned by Lycophron to his aid, took the field against Philip in Thessaly with a large and well-drilled army. The stake that depended on the issue of the conflict was no small one. We may regard as a legendary addition of later times¹ the story that Philip hastened to battle with the ensign of the Delphian God, which so terrified the Phokians that, struck with remorse for their crime, they allowed themselves to be defeated. What we know for certain is that the victory of Philip was especially due to the Thessalian cavalry, which had rallied in numbers to his flag. But the legend is true in so far as it implies that Philip’s triumph was also a triumph of the Amphictyons and the Delphic shrine over the Phokians. In the flight Onomarchus perished (353-2 B.C.).

The issue of the provincial quarrel was decisive for the general war. Philip’s victory made him master of Thessaly. He occupied the Gulf of Pagasae and declared Phene a free city. The Thessalians, whom he had rescued, gladly espoused his

‘ Justin gives this version (viii. 2, 3). It is probably true, as Justin declares,

that Philip was formally appointed Strategus in Thessaly.

cause. It was of even more importance that he could now represent himself as the champion of the independence of the Delphic oracle. As such, he won over all those who clung to their ancestral religion. At first, however, his sound judgment bade him pause in his career of victory. He took good care not to attack the Athenians, who, with the consent of the Phokians, had occupied Thermopylae. Philip made no attempt to force a way through the pass. It was enough that he had attained a position which might indeed arouse hostility, but which secured him allies. He refrained from pressing the advantage which he had won in central Greece, and turned his attention in the next place to the regions of Thrace. Olynthus, then in alliance with Athens, was the mark at which he aimed.

How much depended on Olynthus at this moment may be understood from the declaration of Demosthenes that as soon as Philip should have got possession of that city he might be expected in Attica. It is equally apparent from Philip’s own remark that he must either subdue Olynthus, or give up his hold on Makedonia. This, no doubt, has reference to the fact that his brothers, who still refused to recognise his authority, found a refuge in that city. The Olynthians, as the Athenians saw, in resisting Philip, were fighting the battles of Athens.

The rivalry of the two cities had at an earlier date enabled Philip to fix himself in Thrace. Their alliance was all the more likely to impel him to rid himself of the Olynthians. The three-and-thirty cities of Chalkidike, which were now in alliance with Olynthus, offered little resistance, and were taken by Philip one after another. Not till he threatened Olynthus itself did the Athenians send any help to the Olynthians (349-8 B.C.).

But the help which they sent was not sufficient to save their hard-pressed allies. Of the commanders who led the Athenian contingent, one, Chares, was devoid of military talent; the other, Charidemus, was notorious for debauchery. It was not to be expected that men of this kind should prove a match for the king who was a thorough soldier. To these

disadvantages must be added civil troubles in Olynthus. The result was that in the autumn of the year 348 the town fell into the hands of Philip. He availed himself of the right of conquest with ruthless cruelty, for he had no intention of letting a town like this ever again recover its prosperity.

This, it appears to me, must be regarded as the second great victory of Philip over the Greek community. In the fall of Olynthus, Athens herself received a deadly blow. The king made use of the prisoners who had come into his hands to send proposals of peace to the Athenians. These proposals were not rejected, for it was to be feared that Philip would otherwise proceed to make himself master of the Chersonese and the Hellespont. On the maintenance, and even on the autonomy of the colonies in that quarter, depended not only the naval power of Athens but her very existence, for she drew her supplies in great measure from the Black Sea. It was, therefore, a great advantage for Athens that Philip offered to make peace on the condition that each side should retain what it then held. The possession of Lemnos, Imbros, aftd Scyros was thereby assured to Athens.

But with the conclusion of peace, desirable as it was in itself, another question of great importance arose. The allies of both parties were to be included in the peace. The question was, who were these allies ? The Athenians demanded that all those who should within three months declare themselves allies of Athens should be recognised as such. Had Philip agreed to this, all his enemies in Hellas would have taken the Athenian side. Another point closely connected with this question pressed for immediate settlement. The Athenians wished to have the Phokians recognised as their allies. But just at this moment the Phokians and Philip were again at open war. The Thebans and Thessalians, finding themselves unable to get the better of the Phokian army, summoned Philip to their aid. It was to the interest of Philip to put an end to the little war in that quarter, which laid waste the whole district and kept everything in confusion. He had on the earlier occasion hesitated to march against the Phokians because the latter were supported by Athens and

Sparta, but this support was theirs no longer. Sparta had made a demonstration in favour of Phokis, but, deceived— so we are told—by promises which Philip made to the Spartan envoy at Pella, she deserted the Phokian cause. The Athenians found their hands tied by the peace.¹ They would have rendered it insecure if they had ventured to oppose the king.

The Phokian general, Phalaecus, a son of Onomarchus, was in sorry plight. Not only could he reckon upon no aid from abroad, but in Phokis itself his position was unsafe. When therefore Philip, who had now concluded an offensive and defensive alliance with Thebes, appeared in Thessaly with a force which seemed to be invincible, Phalaecus despaired of holding his ground. He resolved to give up his fortified camp on condition of being allowed to retreat unhindered (B.C. 346). In this way Philip gained a complete victory without even drawing the sword. He was able to pass Thermopylae without opposition, to invade Phokis, to take possession of Delphi, and to establish a new Amphictyonic league. From this league the Phokians were excluded, while the highest position in it was conferred upon Philip himself. He presided at the Pythian games, during which he was visited by Athenian ambassadors. To the resolutions which were there arrived at, the Athenians, much as they disliked them, could make no opposition.

In order to understand the condition of affairs upon which we are now entering, we must study the speech of Demosthenes on the Peace. The Attic orator appears as the chief antagonist of the Makedonian king, whose power, advanced with all the resources of diplomacy and war, made swift and steady progress. Demosthenes perceived clearly the danger

¹ The proposal to make peace with Philip was accepted by the popular assembly on the 19th day of Elaphebolion (Demosth. De Falsa Legatione, § 57, P- 359)> iⁿ the archonship of Themistocles, OI. 108, i.e. April 16, 356. After the return of the envoys, who had been sent to the King, the vote followed, on the 16th day of Scirophorion, i.e. the 10th of July (Demosth. De Fal. Z., § 49, p. 459). It ran as follows : ‘ iav jU7) ttoiwcl fyutce'ts & 5e? Kal irapaSiSwct roTs AfiipiKTvotri tb Upbv Sn ^o-qBi\aei 6 5ri^os S ’ASvmiuv iirl tous SiaKceXvovras ravra yiyveadai ’ (§ 49, p. 355).

to which Athens was exposed, but found no other means of meeting it at his command except the influence of his oratory on the Demos of Athens. He had now to contend, not only with those at whose advice the peace had been made, but with those who, alarmed at the progress of Philip, now clamoured for war against him. The advice of Demosthenes was to keep the peace. ‘We have now,’said he,‘given up Amphipolis to Philip. We have allowed the Cardians to sever themselves from the other inhabitants of the Chersonese. We have permitted the Carians to take possession of the islands of Chios, Cos, and Rhodes. We have acquiesced in all these losses, and made a treaty affecting the very basis of our empire, and why ? Because we expect greater advantage from tranquillity than from a continuation of the struggle.’ In a word, it would have been better not to make a peace in which so much was given up, but it would be in the highest degree dangerous at this moment to break it, since it was to be feared that the Amphictyony might combine to make war upon Athens. It was quite possible that Athens might be involved in war with Philip owing to some dispute between the two powers in which his allies were not concerned. In such a case his allies, at any rate Thebes, would hardly take sides with Philip, for they might well be anxious lest their own safety should be endangered by a man who was always on the watch for his own advantage. To be sure, it was also possible that Thebes might take up arms on account of her own special quarrel with Athens, but under such circumstances Thebes would find no allies. The most disastrous policy for Athens would be, argued Demosthenes, to give all her enemies pretexts for making war upon her at once. Athens should avoid irritating the Peloponnesians by making a closer alliance with Lakedaemon ; the Thebans and Thessalians, by giving refuge to their exiles ; and Philip, by preventing him from taking his place among the Amphictyons. The caution and width of view with which the orator, who was not only orator but statesman, weighed the foreign affairs of his country, are very remarkable. As things stood at the time, he was decidedly in favour of receiving Philip into the

league of Amphictyonic Hellenes. But while giving way on this point he claimed for Athens in other respects an independent position.

From a material point of view the Athenians had every reason to be satisfied with the peace. The fall of Sidon and Olynthus were advantageous to Athens, which now became the undisputed metropolis of trade. Commerce rapidly developed, and there was no want of money. To this period we may ascribe the establishment of an arsenal under the care of the architect Philon,¹ and the amendment of certain laws which were disadvantageous to commerce. In matters of general importance, on which maritime power could be brought to bear, Athens presented a bold front to Philip. It was desirable in this respect that the relations of Athens with Persia should stand on a better footing, and this actually took place. The restoration of the Great King’s authority in Asia Minor called forth a political reaction there. The satrap who a short time before had taken refuge with the Makedonians was again admitted, by the intervention of Memnon, to the favour of Artaxerxes, and returned to Asia. In the life of Aristotle ² mention is made of Hermias, who was his most intimate friend, and with whom he at that time resided. Hermias was tyrant of Atarneus, a fortified place, to which other towns and strongholds had attached themselves. Mentor, by means of treachery, destroyed this budding independence. He invited Hermias to a personal meeting of which he took advantage to make him prisoner, and, by means of his signet ring, got possession of Atarneus and the surrounding places.

It cannot be doubted that this restoration of the Persian power in AsiaMinorwas of advantage to Athens in her struggle with Makedonia. That power had to withdraw within its former limits. Norwas this all. The Athenians had yet another weapon in Greece itself to use against Philip. This was the hatred of

¹ Curt. Wachsmuth, Gesck. von Aiken, i. 597.

² We are told that Hermias was still in Atarneus in 344. Aristotle became in 343 the tutor of Alexander, which may have had something to do with political changes.

C C

tyrants which had been developed into a sort of national religion, and which burnt as fiercely as ever in Grecian bosoms. The so-called tyrannicides who had slain Jason of Pherae were everywhere received with enthusiasm. In Corinth it was the virtuous Timoleon who murdered his own brother for endeavouring to establish a despotism, a deed which excited the deepest wrath in the heart of their common mother, but called forth the admiration of their contemporaries. Demosthenes succeeded in arousing this hatred of tyrants against Philip. He went in person to Argos and Messene to impress upon those states the impossibility of maintaining their alliance with the king. He warned them that their fate would be like that of most of Philip’s allies ; but what he chiefly relied on was the incompatibility of a monarchy with a free civic constitution. These arguments he urged with all his eloquence, and found approval among his hearers. It was in vain that Philip complained of the orator’s insinuations and described them as insults to himself. He made little impression on the Athenians, for Demosthenes represented to the Demos that the king cared not for justice but for dominion.

Thus it was that Athens, relying upon her ancient fame, her vigorous navy, her good understanding with the Persians, lastly, on the deeply-rooted national hatred of tyrants, stood forth as the one power which could cope with Philip. Indeed, she appeared to him still so dangerous that he began to contemplate a revision of the terms of peace. But the consequences might have gone further than he wished had he agreed to the Athenian demand that, not the possessions, but the rights of each state should be taken as the basis of peace. The existing situation would thereby have been rendered insecure, and, above all, Philip’s own position would have been shaken. At this moment- the Thracian Chersonese, which Persia had recognised as part of the Athenian empire, and whose maintenance in that condition had been the chief object of the peace, was threatened by Philip. Cardia, an independent town, had been reeognised in the peace as one of Philip’s allies. It happened that some Athenian troops, dissatisfied with their pay, committed ravages in the district of

Cardia and the neighbouring Makedonian territory. Philip chose to regard this as an act of hostility, and at Athens public opinion was in favour of recalling the general who was to blame for the disturbance. This measure was opposed by Demosthenes. He had considered it dangerous to break with Philip on the question of the Amphictyony. But he was strongly of opinion that the special interests of Athens as against the king of Makedonia, especially in the district of the Chersonese, should be strenuously protected. He expressed his convictions on this score in a vigorous speech which has, with great justice, been considered the best of all his orations, namely, the Third Philippic. In this speech he reckons up the grudges which Athens had against Philip, and shows that in reality he was then at open war with Athens. Who would venture to doubt, says he, that an enemy who sets up his siege-train round a city is on the point of attacking it ? Philip’s fine words were utterly unworthy of credence : with fine words he had deceived Olynthus, he had deceived the Phokians, and, last of all, Pheras, and the fate that had befallen those states would soon befall Athens. Philip, in fact, was at war with Athens, while Athens was not at war with Philip. Such a state of things must, at all costs, be brought to an end.

Against the positive proposals of Demosthenes many objections might be made. The value of his speeches lies in his general observations, which rest upon a wide survey of affairs, and are enforced, one may fairly say, with irresistible logic For it is not in high-sounding words, but in incontrovertible reasoning, which, however close, is yet intelligible to the masses, that the excellence of these orations consists.

Philip and Athens were now engaged for the second time in open conflict. Philip’s first step was an attack upon the fortified town of Perinthus. This town, built in terraces along the coast, contained an industrious and courageous population. Philip had already succeeded in carrying the outer walls, and the fall of the inner town was expected, when some Athenian mercenaries made their appearance.

It was Persian gold which paid these troops, for the Persians

were as anxious as the Athenians not to let the Makedonian monarchy gain control over the straits,- whose possession was of such world-wide importance. In those regions, where different nationalities have, in all periods of the world’s history, come into collision, since no state will allow another to possess them, a very unexpected, but at the same time natural, union of Greek and Persian interests took place. The result was that Philip had to raise the siege of Perinthus (340-39 B.C.).

The scene of action now shifted to Byzantium. Here the Athenians were able to bring their whole power to bear against the king. Chares drove the Makedonian fleet out of the Golden Horn. Phokion, who owed his refuge in Byzantium to the fame of his virtue, defended the fortifications on the land side. Here, too, Philip had to retreat. But his combinations had never been on a wider or more magnificent scale. By an expedition against the Scythians he hoped to get possession of the mouths of the Danube. He would then have become master of the Black Sea, after which the Greek colonies in that quarter would have been unable long to maintain their independence. But in these lands there still existed free peoples, whose movements were not to be foreseen or calculated, and the expedition against the Scythians failed to attain its aim. It was not altogether unsuccessful, for the king returned richly laden with booty, but on his way back he was attacked by the Triballi, who inflicted on him such serious loss that he had to relinquish the idea of making further conquests in the Thracian Chersonese. The Athenians, who were hardly aware that they had allies in the Triballi, maintained, in conjunction with the Persians, their maritime supremacy. Once more the Athenian navy proved itself a match for the Makedonian king, and the general position of affairs would have allowed this balance of power to exist for a time if the old feud about the shrine of Delphi had not been revived.

The cause of this was, politically speaking, insignificant. It was a quarrel on a point of honour, such as when Pericles and Sparta were rivals for the Promanteia.¹ This time the rivalry was between Thebes and Athens. The Athenians had

¹ That is, the right of precedence in consulting the oracle.

restored a votive offering in Delphi, the inscription on which commemorated the victories they had won alike over the Persians and the Thebans. The Thebans felt this insult the more keenly because their relations had, since that time, undergone a complete transformation. At the next meeting of the Amphictyonic Council, at which envoys from Athens again took part, the Hieromnemon of Amphissa, the chief town of the Ozolian Locrians, brought the matter forward. It will be remembered that the Locrians were especial enemies of the Phokians, and the most zealous supporters of the Delphian god. In the course of his speech the Hieromnemon gave utterance to sentiments offensive to the Athenians, whom he could not forgive for their alliance with the Phokians. He went so far as to say that their presence could not be tolerated in the holy place. One of the envoys of Athens was the orator ^Eschines, who was not himself Hieromnemon, but acted as his deputy. Far from seeking to excuse the Athenians, he turned the tables on the people of Amphissa by charging them with seizing the property of the Delphian god, namely, the harbour of Kirrha, which was visible from the place of meeting. After the victories of Philip, public opinion had turned strongly in favour of protecting the possessions of the temple. ^Eschines succeeded in persuading the Amphictyons to undertake the expulsion of the Locrians from their new possession. They were naturally resisted, and the resistance they met with was stigmatised as sacrilege. It was resolved to hold a special sitting of the Amphictyonic Council, in order to deal with the question.

Demosthenes was alarmed when he heard of this challenge. To wage war on behalf of the Amphictyons and the shrine of Delphi was totally at variance with the established policy of Athens, which had hitherto countenanced encroachments on the shrine. Was Athens now to take part in a war in favour of the Amphictyony—that is, in favour of King Philip, who was at the head of the league ? Such was the counsel of ^Eschines, in whose eyes the piety and justice of the war overbalanced other considerations. He hoped to make use of this opportunity in order, with the consent of Philip, to wrest

Oropus, long a subject of dispute, from the Thebans. Demosthenes set himself against this plan with all the force of his political convictions. Here we may remark the radical distinction between the two orators. The one was attracted by a momentary advantage, the other kept the general state of affairs consistently in view. At the same time we are struck by the incapacity of a democratic assembly for the conduct of affairs when great political interests are concerned. Such an assembly is a slave to the impulse of the moment, and to the impressions of the tribune. Further than this, the personal rivalry of the two orators made itself felt in decisions of the greatest moment. At first ^Eschines succeeded in passing a resolution to declare war against Amphissa. Thereupon Demosthenes passed another resolution directly at variance with the first, against taking sides with the Amphictyons, or even sending envoys to the contemplated meeting. Here was a change of front indeed ! In the first vote were involved peace and friendship with Philip ; the second vote meant nothing short of open hostilities against him. The people of Amphissa, at first rejected, were immediately afterwards taken into favour. Thus encouraged they showed a bolder front to the Amphictyons.

Here we are compelled to ask whether the great master of eloquence did not lay himself open to the charge of inconsistency. How was it that he counselled resistance to the Amphictyons and therefore at the same time to King Philip, a proceeding which he had always denounced as in the highest degree dangerous ? He defended this policy on the ground that Athens was already at open war with Philip, and that she could not possibly be allied, in a question of internal politics, with a prince against whom she was fighting elsewhere. For Philip, however, no step could have been more advantageous. Too weak at sea to resist Athens on that element, he was now provided with occasion and pretext for bringing his overpowering land force into the field against her. At the invitation of the Thessalians, he led his army into Thessaly. The Amphictyons appointed him Strategus, with independent and irresponsible authority—for that is the

meaning of the word ' autocrator] which was added to the title of Strategus.

Thus provided with legal authority he appeared in the winter of 339-338 in Hellas. Neither the Locrians, though aided by an Athenian contingent, nor the people of Amphissa, were able to resist him. It was probably owing to a false report, spread by himself, that he was allowed a free passage through Thermopylae. He then occupied Elateia, which secured his retreat to Makedonia. These advances produced yet another revolution in panhellenic affairs. Thebes, after having promoted the Amphictyonic war against Phokis, and after assisting Philip in his other movements, now deserted his side. No Theban envoys appeared at an extraordinary assembly of the Amphictyons, which met at Pylae. We may infer that the Thebans were anxious lest Philip, after overpowering Athens, should turn his arms against themselves ; and undoubtedly their anxiety was well founded. Thebes had, on a previous occasion, actively contributed to the overthrow of the Lakedaemonian power and the rule of the Thirty Tyrants in Attica. This had revived the power of Athens, which in return aided Thebes in the recovery of its independence. It was not likely that the Thebans would stand by and see Athens crushed by Philip. The offence which they had taken at the votive shield was soon forgotten, but, unfortunately, there was another very intelligible ground of jealousy between the two cities. This was the seaport of Oropus, then in the hands of the Thebans, a port much coveted by Athens on account of its convenience for the trade with Euboea. yEschines had hoped that Athens, by the aid of Philip, would be able to take permanent possession of this town. Here he was opposed by Demosthenes. It King Philip was ever again to be successfully resisted, it could only be done by the restoration of a good understanding between Athens and Thebes. Thus, and thus only, could a power be formed capable of taking up the cudgels with Philip. The idea of this alliance was in the mind of Demosthenes day and night.

That the alliance came about is to be regarded as the

greatest service which Demosthenes rendered at this crisis. He succeeded in persuading the Athenians—and it can have been no easy matter to persuade them—to give up the claim upon Oropus, which they had hitherto strenuously maintained. The victory which Demosthenes won in Athens was a victory of national interests over a separatist policy. Immediately afterwards he went in person to Thebes. By recognising the headship of Thebes in Bceotia, in spite of all Philip’s commands and threats, he succeeded in consummating the alliance of the two cities, on the success of which the very existence of the Greek community depended.¹ All Greece was thereupon traversed by embassies from either party. Philip persuaded the Messenians, the Arcadians, and the people of Elis to take no part in the war. From the Spartans he had nothing to fear, for at this moment they were occupied with an expedition to Italy, in order to support Tarentum against the Lucanians. But there were a few states who clung fast to the idea of a panhellenic bond. Athens and Thebes found allies in the Eubceans and the Achaeans, in the inhabitants of Corinth and Megara, as well as in the distant Leucadians and Korkyraeans.

In Athens, as well as in Bceotia, there were many who would have preferred peace, but the orator had united the two capitals with too strong a chain. When the Athenians appeared before Thebes they were received, contrary to the habit of previous centuries, with a hearty welcome. The combined armies took the field together. The first skirmishes that took place turned out well for the allied cities, and a golden crown was voted in Athens to Demosthenes. But popular enthusiasm was premature in thinking that success was attained. In the very first movements of the war the superior generalship of Philip was displayed. He drove the Thebans from their position of vantage by attacking Bceotia in their rear. The Thebans, impelled by their territorial sympathies,

¹ Theopompus (.Demosthenes, chap. 18) remarks on lhe speech of Demo* slhenes al Thebes, 7} rov fijjropos Stbvafxis iKpnrl£ov(ra rbv 6v/j.bv avrup BtKalovca rfyp (piAori/xlav, iTT€(TK6r7}(Te ro?s &\\ois cLttcmTiv, uxrre Kal <p6fiov Kal XoyuTfxbv Kal X*P^IV ^icfiaKftv avrobs, ivdovaiuvras vicb rov A6yov irpbs rb Ka\6v.

despatched a portion of their forces in that direction, and Philip was thus enabled to occupy the plain of Chseroneia, a position very favourable for deploying his cavalry.

It was on this field that the two hosts met for the decisive conflict. Philip commanded an army fully equipped and accustomed to combined action, and he commanded it with unequalled skill. He had turned to his own use the experiences of Theban and Athenian commanders during several decades. Neither Thebes nor Athens had any commander of note to set against him. Phokion, the only man in Athens who understood the art of war, kept himself purposely out of the way. The organisation of the allied forces was that which had become traditional. The different contingents were arranged according to the localities which supplied them, just as had been the case in the Persian wars. The army was what it always had been, a citizen militia from the different towns and states. Their individual discipline was excellent, but collectively they had no organisation. The Athenians had granted a certain pre-eminence to the Theban Theagenes, but they had not conferred upon him the powers of a general. On this decisive day the Greek community had no commander-in-chief.

The Thebans, whose forces were most numerous, had to withstand the severest attack. They were, at this moment, the most hated and most dangerous enemies of Philip: most hated because they had deserted his league ; most dangerous because in their contingent were concentrated the remains of the old Theban army, founded by Epameinondas, and therefore the most famous military force of Greece. Against them Philip sent the bulk of his forces, under the command of his son Alexander. He himself, with a body of his choicest and most experienced troops, faced the Athenians. While restricting himself to holding the Athenians in check, he allowed the main battle to take place between the bulk of his forces and the Thebans. The latter defended themselves with the greatest bravery. Their leader, Theagenes, was not unworthy of his predecessors. The nucleus of the Theban resistance was the Sacred Band, whose members were bound by mutual

oaths never to desert each other. This force, without doubt the best that was in the field, was now overpowered by the superiority of Makedonian generalship. The victory has been ascribed to the youthful Alexander, but it must really have been due to the experienced captains by whom he was assisted in the command.

The Theban line was eventually broken—Alexander is said to have ridden it down with his cavalry—and Philip now advanced against the Athenians with the force which he had hitherto held in reserve. At the first onset they are said to have fancied that they were about to chase the king from the field. But Philip remarked : ‘ The Athenians know not how to win a victory ’— a remark which must have meant that otherwise they would not have pursued him so far on his pretended retreat. Now that the battle had gone against the Thebans, and the troops which had been victorious in that quarter pressed forward against the allies who were drawn up with the Athenians and were under Athenian command, Philip turned his forces against the Athenians themselves. The latter, seeing that all was over, made no further resistance, and suffered a complete defeat.¹ Of native Athenians more than one thousand were slain; two thousand were taken prisoners, and the rest fled in complete panic. Among the latter was Demosthenes. His place was not on the field of battle, but in the tribune. Philip is said to have ironically repeated the beginning of a vote against himself, which happened to run in the iambic metre, and in which ‘ Demosthenes the son of Demosthenes of the Paeonian deme ’ is mentioned as the proposer. The orator was defeated by the Strategus, and democratic enthusiasm by military experience. The speaker who roused that enthusiasm gave way to the king who knew the use of military science. The power of the tribune was thrust into the background by a political force which recognised no authority but that of arms.

¹ Of the battle we have a fairly trustworthy account in Diodorus, xvi. 86. It

took place in the archonship of Chserondas (Diodorus, xvi. 84), OI. no, 3, on the seventh day of Metageitnion (Plutarch, Camillus, chap. xix.}, which, according to the different assumptions on which the reckoning is based, corresponds either to August I or September 2 of the Julian calendar, B.C. 338. Comp. Schafer, Demosth. und seine Zeit_% ii. p. 528, n. 5,

The Athenians were afraid that Philip would now press forward against their city. But this could hardly have been his intention, especially after the failure of the sieges which he had lately attempted. It was on pitched battles that his superiority depended. Moreover, he was satisfied with the commanding position which his victory had obtained for him. One of its first results, and the most important of all, was that the party favourable to him in Athens now again took the lead. He was wise enough to conciliate resentment by proofs of favour, and the terms of peace which he offered were such as Athens could have felt no inducement to reject. As to the details we are ill informed. The king gave Oropus back to Athens, but there can be no doubt that she had to cede the Thracian Chersonese with some of her subject islands, as well as the command of the sea.

In Greece itself no one ventured to make further resistance to the king. In Eubcea, in the first place, his friends took the lead in every city. Chalkis was chastised for its alliance with Athens. Thebes was secured by a Makedonian garrison in the Cadmeia. The autonomy of the Boeotian cities was restored, not, however, in the Athenian interest, but in that of the king. His first care was thenceforward not only to maintain this condition of things, but to anticipate every new movement which might disturb it.

But the course of affairs was not such as to allow Philip to set himself up as absolute master of Greece. It rather tended to the establishment, in the midst of the independent elements of the Greek world, of a power capable of undertaking the general direction, and setting a limit to internal disturbances. With this end in view, Philip undertook to found a sort of league for the preservation of peace. In such a league he naturally played the chief part. After a short lapse of time he summoned a meeting of deputies from the Greek towns and states to meet him in Corinth. The assembly was numerously attended, but all we know for certain about its proceedings is that the existing state of affairs was sanctioned. A special resolution was passed to the effect that no city should attempt to restore the exiles of another. Any state

which attacked another was to be put down, at the invitation of Philip, by all the rest. This was tantamount to the appointment of Philip as commander, with absolute powers, of the League of the Public Peace.

The king had given the Athenians their choice as to whether they would attend this assembly or not. In consequence of the turn which affairs had taken—for, as one of their orators put it, the victory of Chaeroneia had blinded every one—the proposal to attend the meeting was accepted. The Athenians were therefore represented at Corinth: not so the Spartans, who, in spite of Philip’s influence in the Peloponnesus, could not bear to submit to any kind of domination. The contingents to be supplied by all other states were fixed, and these contingents were to be supplied in case of any attack upon the king, and even in case of any aggressive war which he might resolve to undertake.

The forces of Hellas were thus put at the king’s service, although it was impossible to say positively to what use he intended to put them. It was generally assumed that he intended to turn his arms against Persia. That, indeed, was the most natural course to take. Athens had been in alliance with Persia, and a number of Athenians, who could not bear to submit to Philip, had taken refuge in Asia Minor, where Mentor, at the head of his Greek mercenaries, still maintained the authority of the Great King. Without a moment’s delay the king of Makedonia sent a division of his army, under the command of Attalus and Parmenio, to Asia Minor, in order to arouse the Greeks in that quarter to strike a blow for freedom in the old Hellenic sense of the word. Hostilities with Mentor at oncf? began. Through all this we can clearly trace the chain of cause and effect. The victories over Greece, the acquisition of naval supremacy, the conquest of the Thracian Chersonese, the expedition against the northern barbarians, the establishment of relations with the semi-hellenic races of Epeirus, the military movements now undertaken in Asia Minor—all these follow each other in their natural order, and bring to light a single military and political system, foretelling a new future for the Oriental world.

Of the elements which constituted this system, far the most important was the connexion between the Makedonian monarchy and the hegemony of Greece. Philip had no intention whatever of reducing the Greeks to the position of subjects. On the contrary, he needed their voluntary assistance, their adventurous spirit, and their inventive power. While withholding from the Greeks the supreme direction of affairs in the most important political crises, he absorbed the Greek system into the collective unity of his power. On the one side, we have an army fitted for the greatest undertakings, an army without a rival in its day, entirely dependent on the will of the Makedonian king. On the other side, we have a civilisation thoroughly national in character, but capable of exercising ail universal influence. The combination of these two elements is the distinctive feature of Philip’s political work : it was, so to speak, his mission. Victories gained by a people like the Makedonians, however decisive, could not by themselves have had a very deep influence upon universal history. Their world-wide importance is due to the fact that the Makedonians united themselves with the Greeks, whose national culture, developed by the free action of internal forces, must ever be one of the principal elements in that civilisation which forms the goal of humanity. It was through this alliance, intimate enough, if on one side involuntary, that the Makedonian monarchy produced so incalculable an effect upon the history of later ages. The Greeks, had they remained alone, would never have succeeded in winning for the intellectual life which they had created a sure footing in the world at large. Indeed, the connexion with Persia, so lately renewed, might well have had the very opposite effect. But what could not have otherwise been secured was attained by their alliance with Makedonia. It was inevitable that Demosthenes should be the enemy of Philip. The philosopher, to whose care Philip committed his son Alexander, was, on the other hand, Alexander’s best ally. That alliance embraced the political and the intellectual world, which thenceforward proceeded side by side in separate, but yet as it were concentric, orbits.

We cannot agree with the oft-repeated assertion that Philip at this moment stood at the climax of his fortune, and that, with Europe at his feet, he flattered himself with the prospect of speedily overthrowing Asia. A statesman and commander of his experience was not likely to shut his eyes to the difficulties which stood in his way on either side. But he was determined to carry through the enterprise to which the tendency of events had led him, and which he was now preparing to execute. Deeds of world-wide significance and startling grandeur were universally expected of him, when suddenly the news spread that, at a festival arranged by him at ^Egae, he had fallen by the hand of an assassin.

Polygamous relations were the cause of this catastrophe. Philip had divorced his wife Olympias, who was descended from the Epeirot family of the ^Eakidae, and had wedded the niece of Attalus, who belonged to one of the noblest families in Makedonia. This event caused a bitter feud between the friends of the two wives, and between Alexander, the son of Olympias, and the uncle of the second wife. Philip hoped to reconcile the parties by a marriage between his daughter Cleopatra and the brother of Olympias. It was at the festival given on this occasion that he was murdered, while walking between his son Alexander and his son-in-law of the same name (autumn of 336 B.C.).¹ One of his chief and most trusted servants, Pausanias, had done the deed. We need pay no attention to the motives, alike disgusting and insufficient, which have been attributed to him. The explanation points to legendary additions, which frequently mingle the vulgar and the tragic.

In Athens the news was received with manifestations of delight. Demosthenes appeared in the popular assembly clad in a. festive robe. He rejoiced to see his country rid of the tyrant who had loaded her with chains. In the mind of

¹ In a close investigation of this affair, a letter of Alexander (Arrian, i. 25, and ii. 14), in which he attributes his father’s death to the Persians, would appear worthy of consideration, were not the authenticity of the letter doubtful. Aristotle (Polit. v. 8 [10]) gives a very short sketch of the ordinary story.

the orator, everything was to give way to the autonomy of the Greek republics, which was clearly less in danger from the Persians than from the Makedonians. But, in leaning to the former, he espoused the weaker side. The Makedonian monarchy passed from the strong hand which had founded it, to one stronger still. The ^Eakid Alexander ascended the Makedonian throne.

2. Alexander the Great.

It was a significant remark with which Alexander took possession of the government. He said that the king his lord had perished, but he would be as zealous in the conduct of affairs as ever his father had been. Therewith he entered upon the career which his father had marked out for him. He had to hold the semi-barbaric tribes in check, to maintain his authority in Greece, and to carry on war with Persia. A short visit to Greece, not without some parade of military force, sufficed to induce the Diet of the Greek States, which he summoned to meet in Corinth, to hand over to him the supreme command which they had formerly conferred upon his father. On this occasion the command was conferred with the distinct object of carrying on war against Persia. It was the preparations for this war which gave rise to the first danger that assailed the young king.

Attalus, who denied the Makedonian origin of the king and regarded him in the light of an enemy, succeeded in seducing the troops over whom Philip had placed him in command. He established an understanding with the Greeks, and, instead of waging war with Persia, seemed inclined to make common cause with them against Alexander. But Attalus was murdered : the obedience of the Makedonian troops was secured by Parmenio, and the war with Persia went on. At first the Makedonians met with no great success. They were compelled to raise a siege which they had undertaken, and in Troas were beaten out of the field—events which caused intense excitement through the length and breadth of the Grecian world.

Philip and Alexander have been strikingly compared with the kings of Prussia, Frederick William the First and Frederick the Second. It is true that each father bequeathed to his son a powerful army ready in every respect to take the field. Almost the first efforts of the two sons—we are distinctly told this of Alexander as well as of Frederick—were directed to securing the obedience of the troops. But the difference is, that Frederick the Second commenced a policy which was entirely his own, and began a war which his father would never have undertaken. Alexander, on the contrary, took up and continued the political and military schemes which his father had begun.

We first make acquaintance with him and his army during his campaign against the tribes on the northern frontier of Makedonia. This campaign he carried out with energy equal to that of Philip, and with more success (spring of 335 B.C.), The distinctive feature of the war was that the Makedonian phalanx, the organisation and equipment of which were adapted from Grecian models, everywhere won and maintained the upper hand. At the passage of the Haamus, the most difficult points were fortified by the Thracians with a bulwark of waggons. These war-carriages were rolled down from the steepest heights in the hope of throwing the military array of the Makedonians into confusion. Arrian, who begins his history of Alexander’s campaigns with this feat of arms, describes the skilful inventions by which this plan was met and frustrated.¹ When the real battle began, the Thracians, who, according to the traditions of barbaric warfare, had taken the field without weapons of defence, fled from their fortified positions. In their flight they were joined by the Triballi, who were in alliance with the Thracians and had resisted all the efforts of King Philip to pacify them. Their king Syrmus retreated to Peuke, an island in the Danube ; but with the mass of the nation the Makedonians again came into collision. Protected by a thick forest, the Triballi awaited their attack. Alexander managed to entice them from their shelter by means of an attack on the part of ¹ Arrian’s account is confirmed by Strabo, vii, 8, p. 301.

the archers and spearmen. The event was still doubtful, when the phalanx, drawn up in greater depth than usual, marched against them, while at the same time the Makedonian cavalry- made an onslaught. Thus threatened, the Triballi retreated from the field.

In this episode we c<pme upon regions, peoples, and conditions, among which the history of the world has more than once, in later times, been decided. Even at this epoch Byzantium was rising into importance. That city had, owing to its hostility with Persia, deserted the side of the Greeks for that of the Makedonians. It was from Byzantium that Alexander summoned triremes to help him against the island in the Danube, on which the king of the Triballi had taken refuge, and to facilitate his passage to the left bank of the river. The island was protected from attack by steep banks, a rapid stream, and the sturdy resistance of its inhabitants, but the Byzantine squadron enabled the king to transport his troops across the river. Just as the phalanx had proved too much for the unskilled efforts of the mountaineers of Thrace, so on this occasion the Greek triremes showed themselves incomparably superior to the log canoes with which the Getae, the principal tribe of the district, used to navigate the stream. Boats of this kind were, however, used, together with the triremes, to. carry a larger number of troops over the river. The Getae, who awaited the king in hostile array, were astonished at the speed and apparent slightness of preparation with which he appeared in their neighbourhood. The phalanx was drawn up in a long and threatening line, and when the cavalry, under command of the king himself, formed up for attack, they at once gave way. They were still in a half-nomadic condition, and retreated, with their wives and children, and all their possessions, into the. wilderness of the steppe, whither it was impossible to follow them.

More than this Alexander did not intend to do. He could now return in triumph and security across the stream. The expedition in itself bears a close resemblance to that of Dareius Hystaspis, but regarded from a wider point of view a great contrast is apparent. On the earlier occasion the

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Persian forces returned from the Danube to attack Makedonia and Greece. It was now the turn of Makedonia and Greece to appear independent and triumphant in the districts where Persia was once victorious.

The great successes of Alexander induced all the neighbouring nationalities to accept the proposals of friendship which he made to them. We hear mention on this occasion of the Kelts, who at that time dwelt on the coasts of theAdriatic Sea. They appear to have underrated the power of the king, but Alexander, though expressing his surprise at their conduct, considered it advisable to make alliance with them. These events should not be left unnoticed. They served to put an end to the ferment in the Balkan peninsula, and allowed the king to turn his attention in other directions. On these frontiers the military forces of the civilised world maintained a fluctuating conflict with the undisciplined hordes of the aboriginal or immigrant tribes down to the times in which Arrian wrote. The names by which he designates the enemies of Alexander were probably transferred from the tribes of his own day.

With these victories, however, Alexander’s task in these regions was not yet done. The nation of the Taulantii made hostile movements against him. The manners and customs of the Taulantii may be inferred from the story that, at the approach of the Makedonians, they sacrificed three boys and three girls, together with three black rams. Alexander had made an alliance with the neighbouring tribe of the Agriani, who were hostile to the Taulantii, and whose archers were of great service to him. The Grseco-Makedonian military system was here, as usual, victorious. In spite of the mountainous ground, the phalanx showed a capacity for manoeuvring in the closest order, and in the most diverse directions, such as it never before displayed. The rapid advance, which no local difficulties could hinder, the charge itself, the clash of the spears striking against the shields, so terrified the enemy that they fled from the strongholds which they had occupied, but did not venture to defend. Thus it was that the military science of the Greeks, before whose steady array the Illyrians had

formerly recoiled, now still further developed by Philip and Alexander, became supreme in the territory of the barbaric and semi-barbaric nations which surrounded Makedonia. Alexander completed the task which his father had left unfinished, and could now, after his example, turn his arms in other directions.

In Greece false reports concerning the progress of events in the north had raised to fever heat the general ferment which naturally existed. Alexander relied upon the resolutions of the League of the Public Peace, which had recognised his father and afterwards himself as its head. But he was now opposed by all those who were unable to forget their former condition, and who preferred the alliance with Persia which had left them independent, to the league with Makedonia which robbed them of their autonomy. Let us not too hastily condemn Demosthenes for yielding to these ideas. Thebes took the lead of the malcontents, and set about ridding herself of the garrison which Philip had placed in the Cadmeia. She thus became the centre of the whole Hellenic opposition. The enemies of Makedon, who had been exiled from every city, assembled in Thebes, and did their best to rouse the people by recalling to their minds the triumphs of Epameinondas and his glorious activity. The same party was stirring in Lakedaemon, in Arcadia, in ^Etolia, and above all, at Athens. From Athens the Thebans were supplied, through the mediation of Demosthenes, and doubtless by means of Persian gold, with arms, of which they were likely to stand in need. When we consider that Persia was at this time omnipotent in Asia Minor, and that Alexander had his hands full in the north, we can see that the prospects of the Theban rising were by no means hopeless.

But Alexander had no sooner settled with his enemies in the north than he turned to Hellas. So rapid was his movement that he found the pass of Thermopylae still open, and, long before he was expected, appeared before the walls of Thebes. His primary object was to relieve the Cadmeia, the most important position in Boeotia. The Thebans were actively engaged in the siege of the fortress, and had already

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surrounded it with a kind of circumvallation. The same fate appeared to threaten the Makedonian garrison which had once befallen the Lakedaemonian. The Thebans thought first to seize the fortress, and then to defeat the king. Alexander at once advanced against them from a strong position which he had occupied in the neighbourhood. In the proclamations of the heralds, which answer to the manifestoes of our day, we clearly see the point at issue, and the grounds on which either side relied for justification. Alexander offered pardon to all who would return to the League of the Public Peace. The Thebans claimed the assistance of all those who were minded, in alliance with the Great King, to maintain the autonomy of the Hellenes.

It is clear that Alexander, in whose army there served a large body of Greek allies, whose own troops were flushed with recent victory, and whose garrison still held the fortress, was from the first superior to the enemy. It was a striking outcome of Greek autonomy that the Thebans, in spite of their inferiority, determined to resist. They believed that the military exercises gone through in their gymnastic schools, and the physical strength with which they were endowed by nature, would enable them to withstand any foe. It is remarkable that they paid no attention to the unfavourable omens that occurred before the battle. Such omens, they said, had occurred before the battle of Leuctra, and yet that battle had been their greatest triumph. Philosophic doubt had made its way even to Thebes, and the Thebans hoped to overcome the opposition of fate by dint of manly resolution. No doubt the exiles from other cities, whose only chance of safety lay in Thebes, kept up and even heightened their zeal.

But with all their exertions they were no match for their too powerful enemy. Of the battle and its issue we have two accounts, differing according to the point of view of the two parties. According to the one, the Thebans were overpowered in front of their walls, and, as they retreated, the Makedonians pressed in with them into the city itself. According to the other account, the Thebans made an energetic and successful resistance to the Makedonian attack in front of their

city until Alexander forced his way through a gate but slightly guarded, and was followed by his troops into the town. However this may be, the result was a catastrophe disastrous for Thebes. In the market-place, in the streets, in the very houses, there ensued a hideous massacre. The friends of the Thebans assure us that not one of the conquered bowed the knee before the conqueror, or pleaded for mercy, but that they died as men who welcomed death. The Hellenic allies of Alexander appear to have equalled, if not exceeded, the Makedonians in bloodthirstiness. The victors were, however, not satisfied with the slaughter. Alexander summoned a meeting of his League, by which the complete destruction of Thebes was decreed, and this destruction was actually carried out (October 335 B.C.).

In Grecian history it was no unheard-of event that the members of the defeated nation should be sold into slavery, and so it happened on this occasion. The sale of the slaves supplied Alexander with a sum of money, which was no inconsiderable addition to his military chest. But his main object was to strike terror, and this was spread through Greece by the ruthless destruction of the city of CEdipus, of Pindar, and of Epameinondas. The dwelling-house of Pindar, who had sung the praises of the yEakidae, from whom Alexander claimed descent, is said to have been spared in the destruction which spared nothing else. Deep and universal horror fell upon the Greeks. All the movements against Alexander which had been contemplated were stifled in their birth. On this occasion, as before, the attitude of Athens was of the greatest importance. Pier submissiveness did not go to the length of giving up to Alexander his principal opponents, the orators, the mouthpieces, as it were, of the idea of autonomy. This last disgrace was avoided ; but the Athenians promised to bring to trial those of whom Alexander complained. This concession sufficed for the moment, for the issue of the conflict with Thebes had worked almost as powerfully as the battle of Chaeroneia to render the king’s party supreme in the assembly. When those about him expressed their astonishment that the Greeks had been so rapidly dispersed, Alex-

ander answered that only the habit of putting nothing off had secured him the victory.

The close connexion that existed at this moment between Grecian and Persian affairs forbade him to lose a moment in turning his arms towards Asia. It has always been assumed that Alexander, from the moment that he ascended the throne, had contemplated the overthrow of the Persian empire : that he saw his calling, so to speak, in this enterprise. I cannot venture to repeat this opinion without some limitations ; but no doubt the tendency of events led him more and more strongly in that direction. A war between Alexander and Persia was inevitable, not only on account of the relation of the Greeks to Makedon, whose yoke they were very loth to bear, but on account of their relation to Persia, on whose support they leant. But an intention to make war upon Persia is not the same thing as an intention to overthrow the Persian empire. All that was necessary was to expel the Persians from the districts which they had once wrested from the Lydians ; for in those districts all who opposed the Makedonians found a refuge. The advantages which Alexander had won in Greece seemed likely to be but of momentary duration so long as the great power on his flank lent support to his foes.

Let us return for a moment to the relations formed during the recent conflict between Artaxerxes and Nectanebus. It will be recollected that the Persians owed the reconquest of Egypt and the recovery of their dominion in Asia Minor to the skill and bravery of Greek mercenaries. Mentor, the leader of these troops, had, however, not served Persia for nothing. He had lent his aid, as we saw above, on certain conditions, and as a reward for his services, he now shared the complete command with Bagoas, who was omnipotent at the court of Susa. Mentor kept control over the Persian forces in Asia Minor, in the Mediterranean, and on its coasts. We have already seen what use he made of these forces against Philip of Makedon. He held a commanding position when Alexander ascended the throne. The latter, if he was to maintain the supremacy which his father had seized, was

obliged to make war on Mentor and the Persians, as formerly on the Triballi and on Thebes. The career which Philip had begun, and in which Alexander was now proceeding, led of necessity to a struggle with the power that held sway in Asia Minor. Until that power were defeated, the Makedonian kingdom could not be regarded as firmly established.

Since an attack on Asia Minor involved open hostilities with the empire of the Achaemenidse, it was fortunate that such an undertaking was facilitated by the events which just then took place in Persia. A dispute about the succession to the throne had again broken out. As was not uncommon in Persia, the dispute took place during the lifetime of the reigning prince. Bagoas could therefore take measures to assure himself of power in the future. We are told that the eunuch himself put to death the aged monarch, and set aside all his sons excepting Arses, the youngest of them, whom he placed upon the throne. After some years he is said to have fallen out with the new king, and to have disposed of him in like manner. In the place of Arses he set up one of his friends, Dareius Codomannus, who belonged to another line of the Achsemenid house.¹ Not long after his friend had taken possession of the throne of Dareius Hystaspis, Bagoas quarrelled with him like the rest. It is said that he offered the king a poisoned cup, but that Dareius, warned in time, compelled him to drink it himself. We cannot investigate the truth of these stories in detail, but the mere fact of a violent change in the government, even if this did not involve a change of dynasty, shook the whole empire to its base. The death of Bagoas, who had hitherto wielded the supreme power, must have made a great difference in the

¹ According to Diodorus, Dareius ascended the throne a little before the time of Philip’s death (Diod. xvii. 7 : Aapclos irapaAafi&v r)}v ftcuriAelav ttpb fuv rr\s $lAItt7tov reAcvrrjs £<f>tAorijjL€tTO rbv fieAAopra irdAefiov ds t)]v MaKedovlav ano- (TTptyat), Therewith agrees the statement in Syncellus (p. 261, ed. Par.; p. 501, ed. Bonn.) to the effect that Alexander became king in the first year of Dareius, as well as the reckoning of the duration of Dareius’ reign at six years and two months, which is found in Johannes Antiochenus ; the accession of Dareius would thus have taken place in the spring of 336, since he died in August, 33a. On the other hand, according to the Ptolemaic canon Dareius must have succeeded in the year 413 of the era of Nabonassar, i.e. after November 15 in the year 336 B.C.

internal affairs of Persia. The power of Bagoas had been intimately connected with the authority of the commander of the mercenaries in Asia Minor. Mentor himself was dead, but his brother Memnon managed to retain possession of the power which the former had exercised. His relation to the Great King, to whom he remained faithful, was essentially different from that which his brother had established by his services in Phoenicia and Egypt. The rise of a second line of the Achfemenid house could not fail to have its effect upon the holders of the highest offices of state and especially the satraps.

We cannot say with certainty that it was these circumstances which induced Alexander to undertake his campaign, but the circumstances were notorious and tended to his advantage. We may, however, regard the matter from another point of view. The enterprise of Alexander, while owing its immediate occasion to the complications of the moment, has also what we may call its universal-historical side. It is undeniable that the existence of the Iranian monarchy in the regions of its birth was justified by the grandeur of the religious and political views which it represented. But to rule the world was beyond the capacity of the Persians. The Persian empire had become powerful, because wherever it appeared it put an end to the mutual rivalries of the nations with which it came in- contact. But it did not follow that Egypt, with its thoroughly local ideas, should remain for ever chained to a distant throne. It did not follow that the seafaring people of Phoenicia should establish a species of maritime empire with the sole object of laying out pleasure- gardens for the Persian satraps. Between the superstitions of Syria, and the dualistic religion' of Persia, there was a wide gulf, even if the contrast was not always apparent. Was the priesthood of Baal at Babylon, a priesthood which exercised sway over a considerable portion of the world, likely to submit contentedly to the protection of the Great King and of his religion ? If there was nothing else to hinder this, it was rendered impossible by the existence of a great Tyrian colony in the western basin of the Mediterranean,

which exercised intellectual and political dominion over a great part of the west. Western Asia was in a state of ceaseless ferment. The nations who inhabited that district enjoyed a certain consideration from the Persians, but they were chained to the chariot of the Great King, whose religious ideas attained their climax in the thought that universal dominion belonged to him. But to what would such a dominion have led if it could ever have been attained ? The further existence of these nations, as such, depended on the reduction of the Persian power to something less than its present extent.

To leave reflections of this nature, there was still an impulse from earlier times, which had a tendency analogous to that of the conditions we have just considered. When the Makedonians assumed the hegemony of Greece, they were naturally prompted to make use of the antipathy which the Greeks for more than a century and a half had cherished against the Persians. The idea of avenging the Grecian gods upon the Persians had been conceived by Pericles, and had roused Age- silaus to the greatest activity. This enthusiasm was by no means common to the whole nation, but it had never died out or been eradicated. The opponents of those who had formed the league with Persia, held fast to that idea, and at the head of this party now appeared the kings of Makedonia. -It must also be remembered that the supremacy which Philip and Alexander enjoyed in Greece, was closely connected with an object of religious reverence to all Greeks alike. They had appeared in Greece as the protectors of the Delphic, oracle, which embraced and united in one harmonious whole all the religious feelings of Greece.

Never was there a prince more capable than Alexander of absorbing and representing ideas like these. They corresponded to the pride and traditions of his family. His boast was not only that he was descended from Heracles, whose actions procured him a place among the gods, but also from the ./Eakidae, whose fame, founded on the poems of Homer, was in all men’s mouths. He believed himself called to continue the heroic deeds of the Trojan war, and to fight out the battle which, according to the conception of the earliest historian,

had raged from time immemorial between Europe and Asia.

In Alexander’s breast there beat a pulse at once poetical and religious, animated by the honours paid to his heroic ancestors, and by the legends which the poets had made the property of the nation. For him, the poems of Homer were a sort of legal document on which he based his rights, while he held fast to the national religion with a kind of fervour. This fervour has been well traced to the fact that his mother Olympias, his youthful attachment to whom was heightened by the injustice which she had received from his father, had initiated him in the Samothracian mysteries. But, at the same time, he was the pupil of Aristotle, who, as already pointed out, was eager, for the sake of their own civilisation, to free the Asiatics from the Persian yoke. In Alexander an enthusiastic imagination was allied with Hellenic ideas in general. While forcing the Greeks to submit to his lead, he nourished the thought that it was their war with the Persians that he was about to renew, and their culture for which he was to open a wider field of influence. Alexander is one of the few men whose personal biography is closely interwoven with the world’s history. The natural bent of his character led to the conclusion of a struggle, begun centuries before, on the issue of which the further progress of human development depended.

When Alexander set out on his great enterprise, he did not hesitate to leave behind him a considerable portion of his army, under command of Antipater, to maintain his authority in Makedonia and Greece. In the infantry which followed him to Asia the allies and Greek mercenaries were quite as numerous as the Makedonians. Besides these, there were Odrysians, Triballi, Illyrians, and Agrianian archers. The Thessalian cavalry were equal in number to the Makedonian, and in addition there were cavalry of pure Greek extraction, and Thracian and Pseonian horsemen. All were under trusty and experienced commanders, who had attached themselves to Alexander in his recent undertakings. They gladly recognised in him their general, as he had proved himself in the

field, though all did not recognise him as their native king. But that he was such a king was never for a moment forgotten.

The Greek colonies, which had thwarted Philip, were not inclined to oppose his son, and Alexander, like Xerxes, crossed the Hellespont without meeting any resistance. The crossing took place in the early spring of the year 334 B.C. The smallness of the Grecian army, which numbered only 35,000 men, was compensated by its military experience, and the fleet which carried it across the straits was well equipped. Alexander himself was full of the ideas which animate the Homeric poems. Of his conduct under their influence we find two traditions. According to the one, which has the weight of Arrian’s authority, he offered a sacrifice, immediately on his landing, at the grave of Protesi- laus, who, as we read in the Homeric poem, had been the first to touch the land, and had immediately perished. The meaning of the sacrifice was that Alexander, on coming to land, wished to be saved from the fate of him whom he imitated. The other tradition, which we find in Diodorus, is to the effect that Alexander, when his ships first drew near the Trojan shore, threw his spear to land. The spear penetrated the ground, and he sprang to shore with the remark that he took it as a lucky omen that Asia was be a prey to his arms. The connexion of these stories with Homeric times is undeniable. Such ideas had already appeared in Agesilaus. What Agesilaus had failed to do, the king of Makedonia now undertook with the widest intentions and in the noblest style.

The army assembled at Arisbe, and, after leaving garrisons in a few places, marched against the Persians, who collected their forces on the other side of the Graneicus. We are informed that between Memnon and the Persians who were present in Asia Minor and who were mostly friends or relations of the king, some misunderstanding had arisen as to the plan of the campaign. Nothing is more probable, for the Persians belonged to the new government, and naturally looked askance at a commander of Greek mercenaries, whose power paralysed their own. Memnon, we are told, was inclined to put off the decisive conflict, and to lay waste the

neighbouring districts, in order to make it difficult, if not impossible,* for the Makedonians to obtain provisions. He had himself lived for a time at the Makedonian court, where he had become acquainted with the military strength of Makedonia and with the relations between that country and the Greeks. He was convinced that the war with Alexander should be carried on by the same methods as those that had proved successful against the superior forces of Athens and the invasions of Agesilaus. That is to say, the war must be transferred to Greece itself, and for this purpose the superiority of the Persian navy to the Makedonian gave them great advantages. But to all this the Persians turned a deaf ear. They would not for a moment endure the presence of a foreign prince in the territory which had so long been subject to the Great King. They said, with some justice, that not a single village could be ceded to King Alexander. To this resolution they obstinately adhered, and determined to meet the king on the steep banks of the Graneicus (May 334 B.C.).

At the very crossing of the river, Alexander displayed the full superiority of his military talent. The Persians had expected that the Makedonians would try to cross in columns, in which case the stream itself and the marshy ground would give them the opportunity of throwing the enemy into confusion. But Alexander, instead of arranging his troops in columns, drew them up in a long line of battle along the shore. He then formed smaller divisions of cavalry and infantry, who, by supporting each other as they crossed the stream, succeeded in reaching the opposite side. In climbing the steep bank a struggle ensued, in which the Persians, by hurling their lances down on the advancing troops, caused some confusion, but only for a moment. The Makedonians, armed with long spears with shafts of seasoned wood, pressed irresistibly onwards immediately under the eye of the king.

No sooner was the opposite bank reached than a new engagement took place between the Persian and Makedonian cavalry. In this conflict the king distinguished himself beyond any of his followers. In that age the issue of a

battle was often decided by a duel between the commanders, and it was after winning such a duel that Dareius Codomannus ascended the throne. In this case the son-in-law of Dareius, at the head of a squadron drawn up in the form of a wedge, threw himself upon Alexander. Alexander met him with great bravery, and hurled him from his horse. Another noble Persian was unhorsed by him with a thrust of his spear. A third, who fell upon the king, and had actually raised his sword to strike him, was anticipated by Cleitus, a personal friend of Alexander, who, coming up in the nick of time, dealt the assailant a blow which severed his head from his body. Such is the story related by the trustworthy author whom Arrian follows.¹ But enough of details. The Persian cavalry lost in this battle the prestige which they had hitherto enjoyed. The only serious resistance which Alexander met was from the Greek mercenaries, but these, too, he overpowered.

The victory thus won was followed by decisive results throughout the whole country. The Persian commander and the most eminent citizens of Sardis united, at the approach of Alexander, to surrender to him both city and fortress. Thence he turned his steps to Miletus. Hard pressed by land and sea, the inhabitants of Miletus and the foreigners in the city became aware that they could not hold the town. The inhabitants surrendered and were kindly received by the conqueror.² The resistance attempted by the rest of the population led only to their destruction.

The scene of conflict next shifted to Halicarnassus. Memnon had thrown himself into that city with all the forccs still capable of fighting. By entrusting his wife and child to the Persian king as hostages, he obviated all mistrust and jealousy, and under his leadership the inhabitants made a vigorous defence. We have two accounts of the siege, one of which comes from the Makedonian camp, while the other is derived from Graeco-Persian sources. Both are trust

¹ I pass over the differences in the story as told by other authors.

² So we are assured by Diodorus, the question of whose trustworthiness I reserve for special consideration.

worthy, and, although originating on different sides, really impartial. We gather from these accounts, on the one hand, that the attack was made with all the siege-artillery which military science, as then understood in Greece, could bring into the field, and that this artillery was worked by the bravest and most experienced troops ; while, on the other hand, we infer that the courage and skill of the defenders, who relied chiefly on great catapults erected on the walls, was equal to that of their assailants. The defenders made several sorties in which they succeeded in setting on fire the wooden battering-engines erected by the enemy. In the city there were several Athenians of the party which rejected every compromise with Alexander. One of these, named Ephialtes, who combined great resolution with enormous physical strength, gained great reputation in the town. Alexander had offered an armistice in order to bury the soldiers who had fallen before the walls. Memnon granted this in spite of the opposition of Ephialtes, who would have nothing to say to it. But when Ephialtes advised the garrison to bring matters to a close by means of a sortie in force, his proposal was accepted by- Memnon, and the sortie took place. The defenders succeeded in burning the best of the enemy’s machines, and in the conflict which thus originated there came a moment in which the besieged had good hopes of victory. But when Alexander with his best troops entered the field, the enemy gave way. Ephialtes himself perished, and the Makedonians would have penetrated into the city along with the flying foe, had not Alexander himself restrained them. The advantage already gained was decisive. The besieged had suffered such heavy losses that, with Memnon’s consent, they resolved to give up the city. They transported the greater part of the inhabitants to a neighbouring island, and garrisoned only the Acropolis with such troops as were still capable of fighting. Alexander took possession of the town and levelled it with the ground. He had no intention of wasting time over the siege of the citadel. He was now master of the coasts, and had freed the Greek cities from the Persian yoke. He relieved them from the tribute they had hitherto paid, and gave

them permission to live under their own laws. He made no opposition to the revolutions which everywhere took place, by which oligarchs were displaced, and a democratic form of government restored.

In Ephesus, the revenue derived from the tribute hitherto paid was dedicated to the shrine of Artemis in that city. This shrine was the most important of those in which the worship of that goddess was carried on in pure Hellenic fashion. The position which Alexander had taken up as champion of the Greek nationality he maintained with magnificent consistency. From the spoils taken at the Graneicus he selected three hundred suits of armour, which he sent as a votive offering to the shrine of Pallas at Athens. On them were inscribed the words, ‘ Alexander and all the Greeks, except the Lakedse- monians, present these spoils, taken from the Asiatic barbarians.’ But Alexander meant also to appear as the liberator of the native population. He permitted the Lydians to live after their ancient laws. Sardis was now taken for the third time. As a sign to what system it was thenceforward to belong, Alexander founded a temple to Olympian Zeus on the place where the ancient royal palace had stood. He left a body of Makedonian troops for the protection of the Carian princess Ada, who placed herself under his protection and adopted him as her son. The league of the Lycian cities did him homage (winter of 334-3 B.C.). He was greeted by the inhabitants of Phaselis with a golden crown as soon as he came into their neighbourhood. In return for this, he did them the service of destroying a fortified post which the plundering tribes of Pisidia had erected on their frontier. From the latter, who had never been subdued by the Persians, he wrested the command of their mountain-passes, and made his way through the midst of their country to the fortress of Gordium. Here he was joined by Parmenio, who meanwhile had traversed Phrygia. Neither one nor the other had met with any real resistance in the interior of Asia Minor. The importance of Gordium lay in the fact that it enabled Alexander to maintain his communications with the Hellespont and with Makedonia.

Meanwhile Memnon, formally entrusted by the Persian court with supreme command, and furnished with the needful pecuniary means, had set about the execution of his original plan, that of stirring up opposition to the Makedonian king in his rear in Hellas. He launched a fleet of three hundred sail and manned it with mercenary troops. The fleet directed its course upon Chios, which was at once conquered. Lesbos was next taken and even Mytilene ; the latter, however, not without considerable trouble.¹ Thereupon the Kyclades sent envoys to greet him. In the treaties made in consequence of these events, the provisions of the peace of Antalkidas were renewed. It was thought that the fleet would arrive in a short time off Eubcea. The party favourable to Persia was everywhere stirring, and especially in Lakedsemon. A complete turn of affairs was universally expected.

Acting in harmony with his allies, the king of Persia collected all his forces to oppose an enemy who attacked him with greater vehemence than any had attacked before. He was entirely of the same opinion as that which had animated his nearest relations and friends at the arrival of Alexander. He declared that he would no longer tolerate on the borders of his empire that band of robbers, for so he designated Alexander and his troops. He was eager to prevent Phoenicia, on which his navy, consisting mainly of Phoenician ships and men, depended, from falling into the hands of the Makedonians. It was true that his captains had been beaten on the banks of the Graneicus ; but this only roused him to greater activity. He mobilised the greater part of the forces of his empire, and had no doubt that they would overpower and annihilate the enemy. That enemy had meanwhile made rapid progress, but it was the universal conviction in Greece that his destruction was certain. In Athens it was said that the Persians would trample the Makedonians under their feet.² Darius himself hoped to hunt Alexander like a wild beast.

¹ Diodorus (xvii. 29) says this expressly: * fio\is elhe Kara Kpdros.’ According to Arrian, ii. 1, 3, Memnon laid siege to the town, but it was not till after his death that it fell into the hands of the Persian admirals.

² Demosthenes is said by i^Eschines (against Ctesiphon, § 164, p. 177) to have used these words.

He succeeded in taking possession of the passes of Mount Amanus, through which Alexander had marched, in the rear of the Makedonians, but the only result of this was to provoke the military ardour of the latter, who now saw themselves in real danger. Without a moment’s delay, Alexander turned round and attacked the king at the point where he thought to hem him in. The armies came into collision on the banks of the river Pinarus, which flows from the neighbouring mountains to the sea (November 333 B.C.). The Makedonians were not hindered by the fact that Dareius had taken up a strong position on the other side of the stream, supported by two separate bodies, one of which occupied the nearer heights, the other the sea coast. The attack was made at all three points, and the issue was decided by the fact that the river proved no defence for the king of Persia. Xot only the Makedonian cavalry, but also their infantry, passed the Pinarus, as they had passed the Graneicus. The most critical moment of the battle was when the Makedonian phalanx, on crossing the stream, came into collision with the Greek mercenaries who guarded the passage. Between these forces a sanguinary conflict ensued. The Makedonians were being hard pressed, when Alexander hurried up, and by a rapid movement wheeled his infantry so as to take the mercenaries in flank—a manoeuvre which decided the battle.

The struggle was thus not so much between the Persian and the Makedonian nations as between the Makedonian force drilled after the Greek model, and the mercenary troops whom the Persians had called to their aid from Greece. So far, earlier events only repeated themselves at Issus. Former victories were confirmed and completed by that battle. But the battle received an importance which exceeded that of all preceding victories from the presence of the Great King, who now suffered a defeat in person. Dareius, in spite of his personal bravery, was forced to seek safety in flight He remained in his chariot as long as possible ; but in the narrow pass, through which the road led, he mounted a horse and rode away. The narrow limits and mountainous nature of the battlefield, which might have proved disastrous to the

E F.

Makedonians, now proved doubly disastrous to the Persians, Their loss was enormous. It must have made a deep impression upon Alexander when among the spoils were found the chariot and the shield, the bow and the mantle of Dareius, which in his haste he had left behind. Alexander had not only conquered Asia Minor, but he had won a decisive victory over the Great King. His whole position was thereby altered, In the Persian camp the conqueror found the mother, wife, and children of Dareius, who had followed him to a battle from which nothing but glory was expected. Alexander always showed respect for those who were, like himself, of royal dignity, and he treated his distinguished captives with consideration and magnanimity.

The battle of the Graneicus had opened the way into Asia Minor; the battle of Issus opened the way into the heart of Persia. A great general of this century has praised Alexander for determining first of all to subdue Phoenicia and Egypt, in order thus to secure for himself a basis for wider operations. Whether this decision rested upon personal feeling and military calculation or not, we do not venture to inquire. The course pursued was, in either case, that which was demanded by the general position of affairs, and by the principal aims of the expedition. The enemy’s fleet was still ir command of the sea, and it was at this very moment making a descent upon Greece. It was absolutely necessary to mee this attack, but it could not be met directly, for the Graeco Makedonian fleet was far too weak for the purpose. Whei Alexander first took possession of the coasts of Asia Minor i became evident that these circumstances involved him ii almost insuperable difficulties. Many different plans are sail to have been proposed to meet them, but they were cut shoi by Alexander, whose general scheme of action was detei mined by a portent which he saw at Lade. His schemi whieh was rendered feasible by his superiority on land, wa briefly this ; to win control of the sea by taking possession ( the coasts and the seaports.

The importance of this plan, and the method of carryin it out, were now for the first time disclosed. Phoenician shi]

formed almost the whole of the Persian fleet, and the first result of the battle of Issus was that Phoenicia could now be attacked from the land side. Everything depended on the possession of Tyre. The Tyrians kept up a constant connexion with Carthage, and their two fleets, now joined by a portion of the Greek naval force, confined the Makedonian fleet to a very limited space. Their superiority at sea did not, however, save the greater part of the Phoenician cities from falling into the hands of Alexander. This was a most important advantage, but Tyre, the chief city of Phoenicia,, refused to submit and forbade Alexander to set foot within her walls. An attempt to reach the island by throwing a causeway across the channel was thwarted by the Tyrian navy, and by fireships directed against the mole. Alexander found that he could break the Phoenician resistance only by means of the Phoenicians themselves and their allies. This, too, was rendered possible by the victory at Issus.

The Cyprians, alarmed by that victory, and anxious for their own safety, went over to Alexander, while the princes of the Phoenician cities which he had taken left the Persian fleet and placed their vessels at his disposal. After some lapse of time he was able to appear before Tyre with a superior navy, so that the island-city was now exposed to ceaseless attacks by sea and land. It would be well worth while, from the point of view of military science, to examine in detail the attack and defence of the city, the former of which is described by Arrian, the latter by Diodorus, but we must pass this by, for our object is only to take a general view of history. The Tyrians defended themselves with skill and heroism, but in their defence they displayed that combination of cruelty and superstition which had already shown itself in earlier centuries and among other Semitic races. The Makedonians who fell into their hands were slaughtered upon the walls as offerings to Moloch, and their corpses were thrown into the sea, an atrocity which inflamed the Makedonian army with still fiercer resentment and thirst for vengeance. Alexander led not only the naval operations, but also those of the land force employed in the siege, and appeared in person on the

bridge which had been thrown from the mole to the walls of Tyre. His ubiquity and insight were in the highest degree encouraging to his troops.

After a siege of seven months, Tyre was at last stormed from the seaward side (July 332 B.C.). We are assured that, among the prisoners, all the young men capable of bearing arms, two thousand in number, were hung, or, as has been supposed, crucified. Arrian says nothing of this hideous massacre : there can clearly have been no report of it in the accounts which lay before him. He relates, however, that thirty thousand prisoners were sold into slavery. The persons of authority in the city, including the king, together with the ambassadors from Carthage, who had taken refuge in the temple of Heracles, were admitted by Alexander to favour. In that temple, which the Tyrians had forbidden him to enter, he now made a solemn sacrifice to Heracles, who was henceforward to be regarded not simply as a Tyrian, but rather as a Grecian god. The whole fleet and army appeared in all their'splendour to celebrate a festival in honour of the god, accompanied by gymnastic games and torchlight processions. Alexander had overthrown the city and its navy, and the god of Tyre at the same time. The siege artillery which he had used against Tyre was now brought to bear upon the ancient and renowned city of Gaza. That town was at last taken by storm.¹ The inhabitants defended themselves till the last, each one in the place where he stood. The men all perished ; their wives and children were sold as slaves. The city, however, was repopulated by the neighbouring tribes, for Alexander intended to use it as an arsenal.²

The storm which burst upon the ancient friends and foes of the Hebrew race was not likely to leave Jerusalem untouched. The inhabitants of that city had only lately been restored ; of its contact with Alexander there is no contemporary report. The account that we possess is coloured by

¹ After a siege of two months (Diodorus, xvii. 48). On the seventh day after the taking of Gaza, Alexander reached Pelusium (Arrian, iii. I, I ; Curtius, iv. 29 = 7, 2).

It was at this spot that he first came into contact with the Arabs.

Levitic influences, and decorated with legendary additions, but it contains some striking information, and therefore deserves notice. Jerusalem was at this moment in active feud with the Persian satrap at Samaria. The latter, paying no respect to that purity of race which the inhabitants strove to maintain, had endeavoured to set up a new shrine upon Mount Gerizim. It was in accordance with the system of Alexander to receive into favour those who made their submission. We may believe that he spared Jerusalem, and permitted the Jews, like the Ionian Greeks, to live according to their ancient laws. Be this as it may, Alexander was now acknowledged ruler in Palestine, and could set out for Egypt in security.

Hitherto, every power that forced its way from the north into the land of the Nile had only introduced some new form of subjection. Alexander, on the contrary, came as a liberator. Amyntas, a renegade Makedonian, had withdrawn from Cyprus and Phoenicia, before the events last related, with a portion of the troops which had escaped from the battle of Issus, and had landed on the coast of Egypt. There he endeavoured to set himself up as the successor of the late satrap, who had fallen at Issus, but he encountered a resistance from the natives, which ended in the destruction of himself and all his troops. The frequent efforts of the ancient country of Egypt to recover its independence, which had more than once in the course of ages shaken the Persian dominion, will doubtless be remembered. On the last occasion Egypt had been reduced to subjection only by means of Greek mercenaries in the pay of Persia. She now saw herself invaded by a king, at whose hands both Persians and mercenaries had suffered defeat. Such an invasion could not fail to be welcomed by the native authorities. The whole country submitted to Alexander as he marched forward from Pelusium to Memphis. Far from doing violence to the Egyptian religion, he infused into its superstitious rites a breath of Greek idealism. He introduced into the festivals gymnastic exercises and games in honour of the Muses. While occupied in discharging the duties of government he returned to the coast to meet Hege-

lochus, the commander of his fleet in the JEgszan Sea. Hege- lochus was able to inform him that Tenedos and Chios, which Memnon had wrested from Makedonian rule, had been reconquered after his death, which took place before Mytilene; that Lesbos had been recovered by negotiation ; lastly, that the inhabitants of Cos had voluntarily submitted. Some of the banished leaders of the opposite party Hegelochus brought with him. Alexander sent the chief of them to Elephantine.

The possession of Egypt made Alexander master of the ALgzean Sea, or rather of the whole eastern basin of the Mediterranean. The fortunate coincidence of these events was fittingly commemorated by the foundation of a new city, whose circuit he is said to have marked out with his own hand. The city was planted on the most suitable spot, and on ground that had originally been Libyan. An architect, who a short time before had restored the temple of Diana at Ephesus, Deinocrates by name, a man of wide ideas and technical skill, aided him in the work. After the Peiraeus at Athens, this was the first city in the world erected expressly for purposes of commerce. The streets crossed each other at right angles, and the larger of them were double the width of the less important. The city was called Alexandria after its founder. It was a city admirably calculated to be the centre of his conquests, so far as they had gone, while, at the same time, it marked the completion of the long conflict between Egypt, Phoenicia, Asia Minor, and Greece. In the place of dependence on the great empires of Asia appeared now the combined influence of Greece and Makedonia.

It might have seemed that enough had now been done. It has been maintained that Alexander should have contented himself with consolidating the conquered districts into one great empire. But had this been possible, had ambition and activity been able to set themselves definite limits, it must be remembered that the connexion between these districts and Persia had existed for nearly two centuries, and had, in spite of all counteracting influences, struck deep root. It must also be remembered that the Persian Empire, though overpowered for the moment, was by no means reduced to impotence. The

king, who regarded himself as Lord of the World, must have denied his own claims had he been content to give up such rich and extensive districts without further contest.

With a view to the solution of this question Alexander visited the shrine of Amon-Ra in the oasis of Siwah. This oasis had been, since time immemorial, a station on the commercial route through the desert. In it a temple had been founded, the oracular responses of which passed for infallible. The temple enjoyed the advantage of never having fallen into the hands of the Persians, which secured for it a greater independence than belonged to that of the Branchidse or even that of Delphi. Kimon, before the last serious enterprise which he undertook, had visited the god Amon. The answer he received pointed to his early death. A great part of the undertakings which Kimon had contemplated had now been completed by Alexander when he paid a visit to the oracle. Legendary tradition, here unusually ornate, makes him overcome the difficulties that encumbered the way only by aid of ravens that flew before him, or serpents that appeared to show the track. A simpler story, and one in itself of greater importance, is followed by Diodorus. According to this story the high-priest, himself a prince, greeted Alexander on his arrival in the name of the god as his son. Alexander addressed him as father, and said that he would always regard himself as the son of Amon if the latter would grant him the dominion of the world. The priest retired into the holy place, where it was customary, after going through the proper rites, to consult the god, and returned with the answer that Amon granted Alexander’s request, and would hold fast to his promise.

What this answer meant at this particular moment is perfectly clear. |The Great King of Persia, with whom Alexander was at war, was accustomed in his edicts to designate himself as the lord of all men on earth, from the rising to the setting of the sun. \ This claim, which rested on the doctrine of Ormuzd, was now contradicted by the promise of Amon-Ra, the god of Egypt. The sonship, which the god conferred upon the king, had this special importance, that it

caused Alexander to be looked on as a successor of the Pharaohs, who had always been regarded as holding that relation to the god. But it possessed still greater importance from the fact that the transference of universal power to Alexander was now promised. In the traditional account the promise resembles a treaty between Alexander and the god. The priests told him that the proof of his relationship to Amon would lie in the greatness of his deeds and attainments ;¹ that he should be, and remain for all time, invincible. In the oracular response was implied, one might almost say, an alliance between the Grecian gods, eager to avenge the destruction of their temples upon the Persians, and the Egyptian Amon-Ra, who now appeared again in all his old independence and all the fulness of his power. Meanwhile, Alexander had received messages of reconciliation from the Persian court. He is said to have made answer that there could not be two suns in heaven. Two supreme authorities in the world would have been engaged in ceaseless conflict.

The struggle had therefore to be renewed. Alexander, like Necho of old, directed his march (331 B.C.) towards the Euphrates,² the passage of which caused him more trouble than the Persian armies. He did not, however, as yet venture to attack Babylon, which, so long as the Persian power was not thoroughly broken, would have made the most strenuous resistance. It was against Persia itself that his attack was directed. He passed the Tigris without meeting with any opposition, but on the other side of that river Dareius had pitched his camp. The spot is one which has always been of the greatest importance for the connexion between Eastern and Western Asia, for there the great military routes intersect each other. It was near the village of Gaugamela, not far from Nineveh.³ In the region where the Assyrian Empire

¹ Diodorus, xvii. 5^{1 :} ‘ T€Kjj.-f]pLov S’ e<re<r#ai rrjs 4k tov 8eov yev4trea>s rb fxeyeSos tcov iv rats 7rpa£e<n Karopdcofxaruv. *

² Alexander started from Memphis in the early spring (‘a/m ijpi irpo- (jjalvovTi,* Arrian, iii. 6) of the year 331, 01. 112, 1.

³ The statement of Strabo (xvi. 53, p. 737), that the battle, the scene of which was generally fixed at Arbela, took place at Gaugamela, is confirmed by Arrian (vi. 11, 5) in a supplementary remark. But researches that have been made on

had arisen, and where it had been overthrown by the Medes, the Medo-Persian Empire was now to struggle for its existence with the forces of Greece and Makedonia.

No collision of the great forces of the world possessing more distinctive features or greater importance for the fate of mankind has ever taken place. In the camp of Dareius were united contingents from the different nationalities of east and west. There were Cappadocians and Armenians ; there were troops from Kcele-Syria, Babylonians, and Carians transplanted from their native land; there were Hyrcanian, Parthian, and Tapyrian horse ; there were Medes, Cadusians, and Arachosians, mounted archers from Bactria and Sogdiana, and wild tribes from the shores of the Persian Gulf. A division of Indian troops was combined with the Bactrians under command of Bessus. We are informed that Dareius had improved the weapons of his soldiers, had repaired the scythe-chariots, and had taken measures to prevent the misunderstandings likely to arise among members of so many diverse nationalities. But with all this care it was still an army of the same kind as that with which Xerxes had invaded Greece. The Persian forces, though infinitely more numerous than the Grecian army at Chasroneia, were still more heterogeneous in composition, and were no match for the army that Alexander had created. That army, proceeding on from one victory to another, had grown ever more compact, and was now invincible.

Only in one part of the field was victory for a moment doubtful. The left wing of the Makedonian army was hard pressed by the enemy’s cavalry. It was, however, saved by a charge headed by Alexander in person. The scythe-chariots recoiled from the serried ranks of the phalanx, which at the

the spot make it doubtful whether the distances are rightly given by the latter. (Comp. Karl Ritter, Aden, ix. p. 700.) The battle took place in the archonship of Aristophanes (Arrian, iii. 15), 01. 112, 2, on the 26th of Boedromion (Plutarch, CamilluSj chap. 19, '■Xlepffai ji7)t/bs Borjdpofiicovos rjrr^QTjffav TrifiTrrri cpdlvovros’), i.e. on Oct. 1, 331 B.C. An eclipse of the moon had taken place eleven nights before, in the night of Sept. 20-21 (Plutarch, Alexander, chap. 30). Comp. Clinton, Fasti Hell., ii. pp. 341 ff., and Boeckh, Zur Geschichte der Mondcyclen der fiellencn, p. 46.

right moment took up an impregnable position. The decisive combat, however, took place on the right wing. Here Alexander commanded in person, and, as all our authorities agree, directed his efforts against Dareius himself. We are told that, at the moment when his attack was made, the charioteer of Dareius was slain. The people about him, thinking that it was Dareius who had perished, lost courage, took to flight, and carried the king along with them. Nothing but the personal presence of the Great King had kept the vast host in orden the report of his death produced general confusion. The Oriental method of warfare, in which different nationalities fought each under leaders of its own, proved as incapable of resistance when met by the battle-array of the Grseco- Makedonian army, as the empire which it represented.

The victory won, Alexander turned to Babylon. Here he might well have expected to meet with opposition, for the citadel was garrisoned by Persian troops, and one of the Persian commanders had fled thither from the battlefield. Alexander marched up to the walls of Babylon in order of battle, with his troops fully prepared for action. To take the place by siege would have proved no easy task, even for troops who had proved invincible in the open field. But the results of the defeat at Gaugamela were like those of the defeat at Issus. The Persians had lost all confidence in their cause, and were a prey to internal disunion. The Persian general and the commandant of the citadel rivalled each other in their eagerness to do homage to the victor, and the inhabitants followed their example. Alexander was conducted into the city in a sort of solemn procession. Here he maintained the attitude for which he always showed a predilection. In the first place he restored the local religion. The temples, which he was informed had been destroyed by Xerxes on his return from Greece, were rebuilt at Alexander’s command. The Chaldasans obtained from him all that they asked, though in so doing they sacrificed their own advantage, for the income which they had derived from the lands consecrated for religious uses was now restored to the maintenance of the temples. Alexander offered a sacrifice in the

temple of Bel at Babel. It was of immeasurable importance that the metropolis of Baal-worship, whence one of the great religions of the world, as well as the culture connected with that religion, had gone forth to influence the West, was now again, like the religion and culture of Egypt, brought into connexion with Europe by the superiority of Western arms.

This success could, however, not be considered secure, so long as the great capitals, which formed the seat of empire, remained in hostile hands. Susa surrendered first, at the summons of one of Alexander’s lieutenants, without any resistance. In Susa the Great King’s treasure, which amounted to about 50,000 talents in uncoined gold and silver, fell into the conqueror’s hands.¹ Alexander applied a part of the money, after Persian fashion, to stirring up hostility against the Lakedaemonians, who continued to oppose him in Peloponnesus. From Susa he made his way by the ancient royal road to Persepolis, not, however, without some difficulty, partly due to the character of the country, and partly to the insubordination of the tribes along the route, who had never been thoroughly subdued by Persia. We are told, but on questionable authority, that he came at the invitation of a native commander. Dareius had taken refuge in the most distant portion of his empire, and it almost appears as if his defeat were regarded as the judgment of God. Such invitations were not, however, likely to win much consideration from Alexander. It was in accordance with the circle ot ideas in which he lived that he dealt harshly with a city in which the plunder of the whole world was gathered up, and in whose neighbourhood he was met by prisoners of Greek extraction in miserable plight.² His entry into the city was accompanied by deeds of violence, by massacres of the inhabitants, and by wholesale pillage.

¹ Diodorus (xvii. 66) reckons the treasure at 40,000 talents of uncoined gold and silver, and 9,000 gold Darics ; Arrian (iii. 16, 7) fixes il at 50,000 talents of silver in all; Curtius (v. 8 = 5, 5) gives the same amount, with the additional remark, ‘ Argenti non signati forma, sed rudi pondere.’

² The number of these mutilated prisoners is reckoned by Diodorus (xvii. 66) and by Justin (xi. 14, n) at 800, by Curtius (v. 17 = 5, 5) at 4,000. Arrian makes no mention of them at all.

It was probably in 'the same spirit that he set fire to the citadel which he had at first intended to spare, in the orgies of a Dionysiac festival, as though he wished to avenge the Greek gods upon the Persians. The chambers of state, lined with cedar wood, in which the Persian mon- archs used to reside close by their sepulchres, disappeared in smoke and flame. It seemed to the spectators to consummate a decree of fate, when the Athenian Thais, one of the singing and dancing women who had been summoned to attend the feast of Dionysus, bore a torch at the king’s side at the head of the procession. What the Persians had done to the Acropolis of Athens was now to be avenged on the royal palace of Persepolis. This event, in which Alexander’s expedition seemed to reach its final aim, was closely connected with the greatest difficulty which he had to encounter in the whole course of his life. At Persepolis there were no altars of the gods to overthrow, nor any ruined temples to restore: there was no subject population to whom their lost shrines could be given back. On the contrary, Alexander came into contact here with a native religion of immemorial antiquity and hereditary power. In the monuments of Persepolis this religion found its expression. It could not be annihilated by the destruction of those monuments, for it had a political side as well, based upon the very nature of the empire.

With this religion Alexander had now to come to terms. Having defeated and expelled the Great King, he was now regarded by those who submitted to him as his successor in the kingdom. The veneration, akin to worship, which had been felt for the kings in their character of vicegerents of divine authority, was now transferred to their conqueror. In the ideas on which this veneration rested lay the moral force which held together the subject nations and gave solidity to the empire. Was Alexander to reject this veneration ? Had he done so he would have weakened the supreme authority he had won, and would have made the extension of it over the regions still unconquered impossible. If, on the other hand, he accepted it, as he actually did, he deserted the line

of action which he had hitherto followed. After destroying every institution, religious and political, which had been established in consequence of the Persian dominion, he was not only led by personal inclination, but perhaps compelled by political necessities, to yield his allegiance to the ideas on which that dominion had been based.

The question was, however, whether he could adopt the despotic system of the East, and yet remain a king after the Western model. Could he, in short, be at once Greek and Persian ? In his immediate following the difference immediately became apparent. It pleased Alexander to appear in the tiara and robes of the Persian kings, but neither his own Malce- donians nor the Greeks who accompanied him were likely to take delight in aping Persian habits. The Makedonian kings, although supposed to be of heroic origin, had never ruled absolutely, but always in accordance with Makedonian law and custom. The army which King Philip had collected round him preserved a sort of internal independence, natural to a body of professional soldiers. In the same spirit the Greeks had followed the youthful Alexander. They deserved as well at his hands, as he at theirs. A verse of Euripides was at this conjuncture often called to mind, in which the poet complains that the credit of a successful enterprise falls to the share of the leader, and not to that of the troops, to whom the success was due. This sentiment is directly opposed to the demand now put forward, that the king’s servants should approach him with signs of homage resembling those with which the Greeks used to approach their gods. The absolute power claimed by Alexander was identical with that against which war had been carried on for more than a century past. That power had been broken by defeat, but it seemed that it was now again to triumph, when assumed by the prince who had defeated it. The smouldering discontent caused by reflections of this nature soon found expression. In the midst of a banquet, in which the king, who drank out of a golden cup, had invited the chief official present to take part, he was honoured by the Persians, after their fashion, with genuflexions, to which he

responded with a kiss. A Greek who was present demanded the kiss, without, however, performing his part of the ceremony. The king refused the honour. ‘Well, I am poorer by a kiss,’ was the satirical remark of the Greek, as he sullenly retired.

From this difference of feeling arose all those scenes which darkened the later years of Alexander. Even his nearest friends resented the idea of this Oriental servility. The nature of the conspiracy in which Alexander’s confidant, Parmenio, as well as his son Philotas, are said to have been involved, has never been exactly known. But that there was such a conspiracy cannot be denied. The Makedonians themselves, who were summoned to a sort of court-martial, recognised the guilt of the conspirators, and punished it without hesitation. Some of the young men who attended the court of Alexander as they had that of Philip, for the purpose of doing personal service to the king, at one time formed a plot to get rid of him by assassination. The night-watch which they themselves kept round the king gave them an opportunity of carrying their plan into execution. His life was saved by a Syrian woman who followed the camp. She had at first been driven away, but afterwards, in consequence of the supernatural influence under which she appeared to lie, had been received into confidence. She appealed to Alexander, with all the vehemence of which she was capable, to continue his drunken orgies beyond the time which was fixed by the conspirators for his death. He was thus persuaded to remain away from the night quarters where he was to have been murdered.

Among these misunderstandings must be reckoned the incident which led to the death of Cleitus. His sister had been the king’s nurse, and Cleitus had saved him on the banks of the Graneicus at the risk of his own life, but the manner in which he presumed upon this service was intolerable to the king. On one occasion lie insulted Alexander at a feast with some spiteful remark, the exact nature of which does not transpire. Alexander sprang to his feet in a towering rage. Cleitus retired ; but soon after, inflamed with wine and

passion, again approached the king, whereupon Alexander, in a fit of drunken anger, stabbed him with his own hand. The deed was hardly done when he was seized with the bitterest remorse. He shut himself up for several days, and was heard sobbing and accusing himself, but the horrid deed could not be undone.

It is useless to attempt to justify the action of Cleitus, still less that of the king. The incident was a symptom of the opposition between Greek and Persian ideas. The leaning towards a royal prerogative in accordance with Persian notions, which Alexander manifested, was strengthened by the submissiveness which he met with on all sides. He began to treat his soldier-comrades as mere subjects, while the latter felt themselves to be his equals. This revolution in ideas is strikingly brought out by the fact that Alexander now represented himself not only as the successor of the Great King, but as his avenger. Dareius had been murdered on his flight through Bactria by Bessus, the satrap of that province (July 3, 330 B.C.). Alexander marched into Bactria against Bessus, overpowered him and took him prisoner. Bessus attempted to defend himself with the plea that he had assumed the title of king only to prevent others from anticipating him in his plan, which was to bring the people over to submit to Alexander. But this excuse made no impression on the latter. He handed over Bessus to the Medes and Persians for punishment. Through the issue of his battles and the occupation of Per- sepolis Alexander believed himself to have become the legitimate monarch of the Persian Empire. He considered it his duty to punish a crime perpetrated on the person of the Great King, although the latter had been his enemy.

In these Persian views he persisted henceforward. To his Greek generals he once remarked that he would not let himself be treated by them as Dareius was by Bessus. In these difficulties we recognise a question which has been asked in eveiy age, the question how the veneration, which every one must feel towards his native sovereign, is to be reconciled with individual freedom. It becomes pressing when a prince, of hitherto limited authority, rises to the

majesty of the first throne of the world, and his lieutenants seek to maintain, in their relations with him, the old position which left them a certain amount of independence.

The conflict to which we have alluded was as yet only begun, and Alexander was not fated to bring it to an end. But the later events of his life, events of a splendid and memorable kind, had an important influence on the development of civilisation, derived from the direction which was now taken by the Makedonian arms. The Makedonians were led further by the necessity of following up the victory which they had won. In the battle of Gaugamela, the Arachosians, the tribes of Sog- diana, and the Indians had taken part. Alexander turned his arms first towards the north. After meeting with hindrances due rather to the nature of the country than to the resistance of the inhabitants, he reached the most distant regions of the Persian Empire, Sogdi-ana and the Iaxartes. Alexander crossed that great river, but the inhabitants of the steppe, before whom the Persians had once had to retreat, opposed his further progress with an obstinacy which he did not feel himself called upon to break. While at Bactria it was suggested to him that he should turn his arms towards the West. To this proposal he turned a deaf ear, for his thoughts were directed towards India.

Vague rumours about India had been conveyed to Greece from time immemorial, and their fabulous nature left free room for the imagination. India was the scene of a large portion of Greek mythology. It was in India that Prometheus was said to have been chained to the rock. Heracles and Dionysus, the two heroes who won an entry to Olympus by the greatness of their deeds, were supposed to have reached India in the course of their wanderings. Alexander himself claimed to be descended from Heracles, and we know that, even while in the East, he worshipped Dionysus with tumultuous orgies. It may fairly be assumed that mythological impulses of this kind had their effect upon Alexander, but his warlike ardour was chiefly produced by a very intelligible ambition arising from the dominant position which he now occupied.

A year before, he had penetrated into the mountainous

country of the Paropameisus (Hindoo-Koosh), which belonged to one of the satrapies of the Persian Empire. He had at that time made a footing for himself on the Indian Caucasus, and had founded one of those cities which were intended to serve as strongholds for the maintenance of his power and for the furtherance of civilisation. At a point where three roads to Bactria joined, he erected a fortress which he called by his own name. This fortress he provided with a garrison sufficiently strong to prevent any immediate communication between India and Bactria. Meanwhile he had himself opened relations with India. The connexion with that country began through a prince named Sisicottus,¹ who undoubtedly ruled over part of India. This prince had belonged to the party of Bessus, but, after the defeat of the latter, deserted him and went over to Alexander. Alexander was also approached by the Indian Prince Mophis, or Omphis, the son of Taxiles, who, being in difficulties with his neighbours, proposed to the king that the latter should recognise his claims, after which they were to make joint war upon their common enemies.² Thus the threads of Alexander’s policy reached from Bactria directly to the Indus.

When Alexander set out on his expedition to India (B.C. 327), he appeared no longer merely as the commander of Greeks and Makedonians. Besides these he had Bactrians, Sogdians, and Arachosians in his army. To the different Eastern nations he appeared as a new Great King. Plow closely his position was in accordance with the ideas of the Persian Empire, may be seen from the fact that the new satrap whom Alexander set up in the district of the Paropameisus was, if we may judge from his name, a Persian. The first enemy attacked by the Makedonians was an opponent of Taxiles, with whom Sangeeus, the ruler of Peukelaotis, had taken refuge. Their common enemy, Astes by name, was overpowered and slain by Hepheestion. This victory opened the way to the Indus.

Meanwhile Alexander was engaged with the mountain

¹ The spelling of the name, which occurs elsewhere in Arrian, is not uniform in that author. Curtius (viii. 14= 11, 25) gives it as Sisocostus.

² In Curtius (viii. 42= 12, 4) the son of Taxiles is called Omphis.

F F

tribes lying to the north of the Cophen (Cabul River). These races were no longer in a primitive condition. They had fought for their existence with Medes and Persians, they possessed walled cities, and could bring numerous armies into the field. They even introduced mercenary troops from India, Alexander attacked them with the developed military science of the Greeks and Makedonians, who were still, as before the nucleus of his army. The enemy were never able to hold their ground against the phalanx, which, upon their approach, was in the habit of retreating for a space, then suddenly wheeling and attacking in close battle array. The art of siege was also far more developed among the Greeks than among the Persians. Their battering rams broke down the walls, the breaches were then bridged over and the battlements were cleared of their defenders by the catapults, with which the moving towers were provided. The captured cities were levelled with the ground : others were set on fire by the inhabitants and then deserted. The Makedonians generally pursued and caught those who tried to make their escape, and on one occasion they took 40,000 prisoners at once.

But superiority in open war was not the only means by which Alexander made his way. In the town of Massaga, which for some time made a stout resistance, an unexpected event occurred. The mercenaries within the city made a treaty with Alexander, providing that they should enter his service. Not long afterwards, however, it appears that they repented of their promise, or else that the securities they demanded were not given them ;¹ at any rate, no sooner had they left the city, than a fight took place between them and the Makedonians. The superior weapons of the latter again secured them the victory. We are told that the arrows of the Thracian archers split the shields borne by the Indian troops, and so allowed the Makedonian pikes to produce their full effect. The women took part in the struggle. The mercenaries defended themselves with great courage, and were all slain,

¹ The first explanation is that of Arrian, the second that of Diodorus (xvii. 84), in whose narrative sympathy with the^-conquered is very apparent.

After this the city could no longer hold out, and fell into Alexander’s hands.

Thereupon the whole nation was seized with terror. On all sides they took refuge in their mountain fortresses. The siege of one of these, called Aornus, has become famous chiefly owing to the excellent description given by Arrian, who, no doubt, drew his information from Ptolemaeus the son of Lagus. The conquest of this town would have been impossible had not some natives betrayed to the king a path which led to the fortified heights. The well-planned and successful attacks upon these fortifications soon convinced the besieged of their inability to hold out. They begged to be allowed a free retreat, but Alexander preferred to give them an opportunity of making their escape. When they attempted this, the king’s troops succeeded in climbing to the summit of the ridge surrounding the town, whence they were able to attack and massacre the flying population. If Alexander treated with magnanimity the nations and princes who submitted to him, he exercised the most ruthless severity against all who made any resistance. The capture of Aornus was of incalculable advantage, since it commanded the valley of the Cophen and the Upper Indus. The fortifications of the place were repaired and enlarged, and the command of it was entrusted to the Indian prince who had made an alliance with Alexander in Bactria.

Hephsestion had already preceded the king on the road to India. By means of a bridge of boats, which the former had thrown over the Indus, probably to the north of the spot where it is joined by the Cophen, Alexander crossed the stream. In this district he enjoyed his first experience of elephant-hunting. Mophis, who, later on, appears under the name of Taxiles, acknowledged him as his suzerain.¹ The story tells us of Indian fanatics who inflicted penance on themselves, and of women burnt on their husbands’ funeral pyres: it brings us, in fact, into the heart of India. For

¹ In Curtius (viii. 43 = 12, 14) Taxiles appears to be the regular title of the occupier of the throne : ‘ Omphis permittente Alexandra et regium insigne sump- sit et more gentis suse nomen, quod patris fuerat, Taxiles appellavere populares, sequente nomine imperium in quemcunque transiret.’

a moment it appeared doubtful whether Taxiles and his people would oppose Alexander, but they kept their word and joined his army. Alexander enlarged the dominions of that prince but at the same time placed a garrison in his capital and appointed a Greek named Philip as satrap over the country.

Thus the plan which had been conceived at Bactra was thoroughly carried out. After a hard struggle with the mountain tribes, there followed the subjection of an Indian kingdom and the junction of its forces with the Makedonians. It was Alexander’s intention to compel the neighbouring Indian principalities, both small and great, to submit in like manner. A champion of their independence appeared in Porus, whose territory bordered on the districts already conquered. Of Porus we find traces in Indian tradition, which speaks of a kingdom called Paura in this neighbourhood. Porus rejected every invitation to recognise Alexander as his suzerain. In order to conquer him, the Hydaspes (Jhelum) had to be crossed. Porus brought more than a hundred elephants into the field. In his line of battle, these colossal animals appeared like so many towers, and the troops between them like a connecting wall. Alexander managed to distract his attention and then to defeat him by a feint (July 326 B.C.) Leaving a portion of his army under Craterus in the camp, he succeeded in crossing the river with the rest by means of a couple of islands which facilitated the passage. This done, Craterus also crossed, and Porus, after an obstinate struggle, was overpowered. In this battle the mounted archers proved themselves most efficient against the troops of Porus, but what was really new, and at the same time important as determining the relations between the forces of the great powers of the world, was the conflict between the phalanx and the elephants. The former could not win the victory until the latter, driven into a narrow space, became terrified and threw their riders. Porus distinguished himself by personal bravery. When at length he was brought before Alexander, his tall, handsome, and manly figure called forth universal admiration. He appealed to Alexander, as he was a king himself, to treat him as a king. Alexander enlarged his dominions, and made alliance

with him—that is to say, Porus recognised Alexander as suzerain. At the points where the Hydaspes was crossed two cities named Bukephalia and Nikaea were built. The king himself marched along the Hydaspes for some distance up the stream, in order to hinder the chieftains of the tribes who dwelt on the spurs of the Himalayas from active interference.

A great object had now been attained. The dominion of the Great King in India, which Alexander had taken over from the Persians, had not only been revived, but extended beyond its former limits. But the ambition of Alexander was not satisfied with this, nor, we may say, was his mission in the history of the world fulfilled. Before him lay the East, hitherto hardly touched by Persia. Of its vast extent, and its endless variety, no one, as yet, had any clear idea. Alexander appeared, by the course and direction of his march, to be destined to explore it. He had resolved to cross the Hyphasis (Sutlej), the fourth of the five streams which traverse the Punjab. He was told that on the other side of the river he would find nations of more advanced civilisation, and at the same time very warlike.¹ He was eager to visit these nations and plunge into a new conflict.

But not even the greatest commander is omnipotent; even such a one as Alexander is dependent on the goodwill of the troops he leads. He now found himself in opposition to his army, which, disgusted by the nature of the climate which had lately been experienced, was appalled at the idea of pressing on still further into an unknown world. Alexander, it consequence of this, determined to give up his intention. Such, at least, is the story, which, on the whole, cannot be doubted. But, if we review the condition of the world at this time, we shall see that Alexander, though he crossed the frontier of India, was not called upon to traverse that country, and to discover the eastern half of the continent which, for long ages to come, was not drawn into the circle of uni

¹ It was the kingdom of the Prasii, of which Alexander heard. Its king appears in the Indian tradition under the name Nanda (in Justin, xv. 4, 6, it is spelt Nandra). See Lassen, Indische Alterthumskunde, ii. 2uo.

versal history. While giving up this project, he embraced another which lay nearer to his hand, a project which, while closely connected with the past, led directly to the development of the future. His aim was to establish a maritime connexion between the valley of the Indus and the western world. Dareius Hystaspis had long before cherished the same intention. Herodotus tells us that, wishing to discover the mouth of the Indus, he sent a squadron, under command of a Greek named Scylax, down the stream from Caryanda. These vessels completed their voyage down the Indus, and thence made their way to the Red Sea. The voyage had at the time no further results, but rumours of it, preserved by Ctesias, according to whom the Indus flows into the great sea which surrounds the Eastern World, made a deep impression on the Greeks, especially because it seemed to confirm their ideas about the earth. The zeal for geographical discovery, by which Alexander was animated beyond any of his contemporaries, was fired by the prospect. It was a great conception, equally important from the political and scientific points of view, to bring his new conquests in India into maritime connexion with the principal cities of the empire which had fallen into his hands.

Alexander set about this undertaking in full consciousness of the aim which he had in view, and with indefatigable energy and caution. While sailing down the Indus he was obliged to subdue the independent peoples on either bank so far as to prevent them from imperilling the existence of the settlements and fortresses which he erected. On these occasions he more than once encountered serious personal danger. Nothing in ancient history was more famous than his attack on the principal stronghold of the Malli. On this occasion he led the storming party in person, and, when a ladder gave way behind him, sprang down into the city, and, with his back against a tree, withstood all the attacks of the inhabitants, until relieved by his followers. This time, however, he was so severely wounded that the progress of his expedition was stopped for some months.

The national resistance which he met with in India was

heightened by religious animosity. The Brahmins everywhere stirred up the native population and their princes against the Greeks and Makedonians. It was inevitable that the religious views of India, and their ancestral traditions, as represented by the priestly caste, should call forth the bitterest hostility against the Greek religion, now forcing its way into their domain. It was almost a religious war which Alexander had to fight. He attacked the Brahmins in their own cities, one of which he entirely destroyed. When he reached Pat- tala, where he hoped to find a favourable reception, the place itself and the surrounding district were deserted by the inhabitants, and it was only with great difficulty that he induced a sufficient number of them to return. This town was situated in the region where the delta of the Indus begins. Alexander felt himself so sure of holding the positions which he had occupied at the most important points, that he undertook to complete them by erecting a town on this spot. At his command, wells were dug, and dockyards laid out, in order to establish an emporium for the trade of the world, which was to bear the name of Alexandria. All these operations he conducted in person. Neither toil nor danger hindered him from exploring, first the western, and then the eastern arm of the Indus in order to convince himself that a passage to the sea was feasible. The spirit of enterprise with which he was animated was always combined with method and thoroughness.

At last the desire of his heart was attained. At first from an island in the stream, and afterwards from one outside its mouth, he beheld with his own eyes the Indian Ocean. Fie sacrificed to the gods not only after the Grecian fashion, but also in accordance with the rites which he had learnt in the temple of Amon. He threw into the sea the golden goblets which he had used for libations, as a sort of offering, and called upon Poseidon to guide in safety the fleet which he intended to send thence to the Persian Gulf. He had with him an old friend, of Cretan extraction, named Nearchus, who had remained faithful to him through all his earlier troubles, and had attended him on his march through Asia,

first of all at the head of a body of Greek mercenaries and afterwards as commander of a division of select troops, To this well-tried and skilful comrade he entrusted the command of the fleet destined to explore the way by sea to the Persian Gulf, and to investigate the conditions under which the route could be utilised. The mouths of the Indus were to be permanently connected with those of the Euphrates. Between the Euphrates and the Nile commercial intercourse had long existed. We have seen how Alexander created an emporium for Mediterranean trade at the mouth of the Egyptian stream. Alexandria on the Indus and Alexandria on the Nile were thus to be intimately connected with each other. The one opened the Mediterranean and the West, the other was to form a great centre of trade for the Oriental world. These vast and yet practicable combinations far exceeded the efforts at colonisation made by the Phoenicians in both directions, and were the chief links in the chain which bound together the new world-empire of Alexander.

Alexander’s enterprise in India was completed by his retreat through Gedrosia. It was not merely a retreat, for it involved an occupation of the coasts, which was as important for the fleet as the security of the settlements on the banks of the Indus. Alexander, on his march, kept as near as possible to the shore, and took measures for the reception and support of the fleet, which had been instructed to sail along the coast. On his march he encountered great difficulties. The heat of the sun, the depth of the sand, the attacks of the half-savage inhabitants, lastly, the ignorance of his guides, were hindrances hardly to be surmounted. Sometimes the road led through deserts devoid of water and vegetation of every kind.' On one of these occasions it is said that Alexander, when his army was suffering from thirst, had some water brought him in a helmet. He poured it out upon the ground, for he was determined to share everything with his followers. A very similar action is related of King David : it betokens a renunciation of all advantages which belong to the king and general

¹ The sketch in Strabo (xv. § 4, pp. 721 ff.), and the narrative of Arrian, which are not taken altogether from the same sources, are both deserving of notice.

as such. The badness of the climate and the want of provisions brought sickness in their train, and caused the loss of many lives. The army was reduced to little more than half its original numbers when it arrived in Caramania. Here the land was more productive, and, at the same time, camels laden with the necessaries of life came in from all sides. Abundant reinforcements were brought up by Craterus, who, with his Indian elephants, had returned by way of Arachosia.

The king was, however, very anxious about the fate of his fleet. Nearchus, who began his voyage early in October 325 B.C., was much aided by the monsoons. We may remark in passing that it is to him that nautical science owes its first acquaintance with these winds. But, on the other hand, he had many difficulties to contend with. He was obliged to put into port on the island of Bibacta, and to remain there some weeks, having meanwhile to fortify his camp against the attacks of the inhabitants. The harbour where he lay he called by the name of his king.¹ The privations which had to be endured at sea were no less severe than those which the troops suffered on shore. But all difficulties were eventually overcome, and the fleet arrived in Caramania, at the mouth of the river Aramis. The ships were beached, and the camp fortified with a wall. The spot was only about five days’ journey distant from where Alexander lay. Meanwhile the king had received so little news of his fleet that he almost gave it up for lost. We can understand how grievous would have been his disappointment had the chief result of his great expedition, the knowledge of the connexion between the Persian Gulf and the Indian Ocean, been lost with his fleet. This is what is implied by his exclamation that the loss of the fleet would outweigh all the good fortune he had hitherto enjoyed. When he saw Nearchus, who came to him immediately upon his landing, he burst into tears of joy ; and his tears only flowed the faster when he heard that not only the admiral but also the fleet was safe in port. The success of the great undertaking, which became an accomplished fact when Alexander and his admiral met, was

¹ II is now called Chilney.

celebrated with games in the Hellenic fashion, at which the king and Nearchus appeared together, both with garlands on their heads.

From Caramania Alexander travelled to Susa, thence to Ecbatana, lastly to Babylon. The stories of further schemes which he is said to have announced in Babylon must be for the most part hypothetical, or at any rate appear to spring from a mixture of truth and fiction. We are told that his first intention was to prevent the Arabs from harassing his frontier, by a great attack upon them by land and sea. According to the communications which, at a later date, were made to the army, he cherished the idea of making a serious attack upon Carthage. For this purpose, we are told that he intended to make a military road from Kyrene through Libya, and to equip a thousand triremes in Phoenicia, Syria, Cilicia, and Cyprus. The Persian kings had once conceived a similar plan, but had relinquished it. Greek and Persian ideas were combined in Alexander. The conquest of Carthage would have made him master of the Western world.

It is quite possible that far-reaching plans of this kind floated in the minds of Alexander and his generals, but that anything of the sort had been determined on cannot be proved. A true conception of Alexander’s character will permit, if not compel, the historian to doubt whether such was the case. The enterprises of Alexander, so far as they had been completed at this moment, are harmonious and complete in themselves. We need not stop to enquire whether the idea of a revolution in the East floated from the first before his eyes, but it is perfectly clear that the force of circumstances led him step by step to that result. Beginning with the expeditions against the nations of the Danube, which were undertaken because otherwise the power gained by his father over Greece could not have been maintained, he proceeded to make war upon the states of Hellas which were hostile to that power, and overcame them. The fact that the latter found support in the Persian dominion over Asia Minor led Alexander to make an attack upon the Persians, the fortunate issue of which exceeded all expecta

tions. But the hostile powers still kept command of the sea. Alexander could not become supreme over that element until he had conquered Egypt, and, above all, Phoenicia. This was, however, impossible until the power of the Great King, who ruled over those lands, was defeated in a decisive battle. Such a defeat was inflicted at Issus. That battle gave Alexander dominion over the eastern waters of the Mediterranean and over the lands which had seen the dawn of civilisation. Thence he directed his gaze, of necessity, to Babylon, the religious connexion of which with the districts which he had occupied was of .ancient date. But Babylon could not be conquered so long as the territories, which were the birthplace of the Assyrian and Medo-Persian Empires, remained in the hands of the Persians. The greatest of all its triumphs was won by the Graeco-Makedonian army in the plain of Gaugamela. The nations of which the great empire was composed, and which then met him in the field, were conquered at one blow. The result was that not only Babylon fell, but with it the Persian Empire. The extent of that empire compelled Alexander to press forward to Bactria and the Iaxartes on the one side, and on the other to the banks of the Indus.

It was an incomparable career of victory which fell to the lot of Alexander. In his early youth he took a decisive share In the battle of Chaeroneia, after which, as commander- in-chief, he won the battles on the Graneicus, at Issus, at Gaugamela, and lastly, on the Hydaspes : five battles, each of which marks a revolution in the circumstances of the world. Along with these victories must be reckoned the captures of such towns as Thebes, Halicarnassus, Tyre, and Gaza ; and in India, of the mountain-fortress Aornus, and of the capital of the Malli. All these were military triumphs of the very first rank, and followed each other in one uninterrupted sequence of success.

The share taken by Alexander in the progress of geography consists mainly in this: that he re-discovered the maritime route from the mouths of the Euphrates to the mouths of the Indus, and that he not only re-discovered it)

but put it to actual use. This exploit united all the conquered territories into one whole. Within the circle of these conquests we may perhaps say that his greatest feat consisted in re-establishing over an immense area the supremacy of polytheism, which had been much reduced by the Persian dominion. It was owing to him that the Greek, Egyptian, and Syrian religions became fused in one another. Towards the Jews he showed toleration, for in their religion he beheld a national institution. He overthrew the Persians, yet without suppressing their religious opinions. Against the Brahmins he championed the cause of the Grecian gods.

But something he brought with him from Greece greater than its gods. The Greeks had arrived at an idealistic conception of the world, so far as such a conception is attainable by the human mind. They had created a literature which embraced all tendencies of thought—the earliest and the most brilliant of the literatures of the world. To the ideas which animated this literature Alexander threw open the East, and even subjected it to their domination. To the influence of thought he added the influence of force. His victories are not merely events in military history, but also steps in the onward course of human civilisation, especially in relation to art and commerce. For these he everywhere founded new homes, which he delighted to mark by his own name. The mixture of polytheism with the greatest efforts of culture is the distinctive mark of the epoch. The religion of humanity, which in later times became prominent, has always adhered firmly to its connexion with the ideas of science and civilisation.

In Alexander, as he is described to us, there is somewhat of the ideal which the Greeks incorporated in their Dionysus, the god who, born of lightning and the earth—for that is what the story of Semele means—traverses the world victorious and irresistible; the god who, in the midst of all his victories, wears a wreath of vine-leaves, or carries a goblet together with his sceptre. Alexander, like him, delighted in the enjoyments of life. He was riotous at the banquet, full of confidence and affection to those about him, and generous even to

lavishness. But woe to the man who irritated him, for in his wrath he lost all self-command, though afterwards he gave himself up to the bitterest feelings to which man can be a prey, the remorse for an evil deed which can never be undone. He was thoroughly human, and was easily influenced by the most opposite impulses. He did not shun the company of Thais, but could honour Sisygambis. He thrust Dareius from the throne, but afterwards avenged his death. With all his defects, he always manifested an innate feeling, a sort of instinct, for the magnificent and truly great. His personal appearance showed a rare combination of muscular strength and agility. In his” ey'es men thought they recognised the expression, not only of gentleness and sensitiveness, but of lion-like courage. The portraits which the ancients possessed of him are characteristic : the hair fell back from a high and open brow, and his head had a slight inclination to the left side. The bust in the Louvre with a Greek inscription, which has been ascribed to an Athenian studio, is probably a copy from an original made in Alexander’s lifetime. It breathes resolution and independence, combined with refinement and tenderness. The spectator can hardly tear himself away from it when he thinks of the deeds and qualities of the man whom it represents.

After Alexander’s return from India his principal employment was in controlling the violence of his lieutenants, to whom he had entrusted his authority. In the position which he now occupied he was unable to dispense with the Persians, in whose footsteps he trod. We are told that he caused a large number of the Persian youth to be drilled after Greek fashion in the use of arms. The number of young men who were presented to him, after going through their course, was estimated as high as 30,000. We see signs that an attempt was made to unite Makedonians and Persians in minor as well as more important services. Alexander’s marriage with the eldest daughter of his predecessor meant nothing else than that the successor of Alexander was also to be the successor of the Persian kings. This marriage, it was hoped, would lead to a fusion of the two nationalities. Alexander’s intention is said to have been to bring colonies

from Europe to Asia, and from Asia to Europe. The two continents were to be united as closely as possible by mutual communication. The arts and architecture of the different countries were also to be fused. It is characteristic of Alexander that he thought of erecting a pyramid in honour of his father as large as the largest of those in Egypt.

While full of these revolutionary ideas he was robbed by death of his best friend and counsellor, Hephaestion, whom he used to call his second self. From this time forth he lost all his gaiety. He obtained permission from the oracle of Amon to honour his friend as a demi-god, whereupon he caused his body to be burnt and entombed in Babylon with the most splendid ceremonies. It is not clear whether the conversations which he held in his latter days turned chiefly upon recollections of his past experiences or upon plans for the future. But the rapid and almost miraculous development of his life was fittingly closed by a rapid and early death.¹ Alexander died in the first half of the month of June, in the year 323. He was only just thirty-two years old. In the family from which he sprang early deaths were not uncommon, and no one need wonder that Alexander, exhausted by all the exertions and all the enjoyments which life presents, succumbed early to the common fate of man.

It has often been suggested that he died by poison, in consequence of the anxiety produced in his own country by the Oriental tendencies which he displayed. About this nothing further can be known than that such an opposition existed between the intentions of Alexander, which tended towards a monarchy of the Persian kind, and the independent feelings of the Greeks and Makedonians, who had won the victory over that monarchy. Alexander may be styled fortunate in that his death saved him from the painful complications which could not fail to spring from this internal opposition.

¹ In the Ephemerides (Plutarch, Alexander, chaps. 76 ff.) the 28th of the Makedonian month Daisios was given as the day of Alexander’s death. Aristo- bulus gives the 30th ; but it is difficult to reckon dates by the Makedonian months. If we follow Plutarch in identifying the month of Daisios with the Attic month Thargelion (Alexander, chap. 16; Camillas, chap. 19), the first of the above statements fixes the day as the 8th, the second as the 10th of June. The reckoning hitherto followed, fixing it on the nth or 13th of June, rests on a different construction of the Attic calendar.

CHAPTER XI.

ORIGIN OF THE GR^ECO-MAKEDONIAN KINGDOMS.

ALEXANDER had destroyed an empire, but had not succeeded in erecting a new one in its place. The fundamental notions which arc indispensable to a regular administration were in the Makedonian empire vague and uncertain. It was true that the new ruler was obeyed as the successor of the ancicnt kings in the satrapies into which the empire of the Achcemcnida: was divided. But the Graco-Makedonian army, which had won the victory, was not inclined to put up with such a transformation. From the differences which this disagreement causcd immediately after the taking of Persepolis sprang the bitterest disappointments which Alexander had to endure. It would be a mistake to assume that the Makedonian army, in acting thus, threw off allegiance to the royal authority, as legally and traditionally constituted. Philotas and his fellow conspirators were condemned by a court martial, that is to say, by the troops themselves or by their commanders. We have already seen that the absolute power of the commandcr-in-chicf was an historical necessity : great armies arc created in order to carry out great conceptions. But the military constitution has also another side ; for armies cannot be mere instruments. The success of their arms induces the troops to think for themselves and to manifest a will of their own. Alexander often remarked to the Makedonians who followed him that his enterprise had originated not so much in himself as in his arm)', for it was the army which had originally demanded an attack upon Persia. The

soldiers had won the victory, and they now desired to enjoy its fruits.

It was natural that they should have been disgusted with the schemes of Alexander for bringing about a combination of the two nationalities in the army itself, for in this proposal they perceived an attempt to deprive them of the exclusive military power which they had won. But with the death of the king his schemes fell to the ground. The prince who had contemplated a fusion of East and West was dead, and the Grseco-Makedonian army felt, for the first time, its full independence and power. The deepest hostility was aroused among the troops by the combination of the Makedonian monarchy with the authority of the Great King. Now that Alexander was dead, they had ideas of their own to put forward about this combination.

Alexander did not die altogether without offspring, but his children were not in a position to make legal claim to the rights of succession. After his return from India he had wedded the elder daughter of Dareius ; the younger sister he married to the only friend whom he could entirely trust. The male offspring of the former marriage might naturally be expected to regard themselves as, in the first place, kings of the Persians, and this was the more likely since Sisygambis, the mother of Dareius, was still alive, and would have taken charge of her grandchildren. But after the death of Alexander Sisygambis died of grief, and her granddaughters were enticed from the asylum which they had found with her and put to death. This act has been ascribed to Roxana, the daughter of a Bactrian prince, whom Alexander had taken to wife ; for the Makedonian kings had not renounced polygamy. She is said to have carried out the deed of violence with the connivance of Perdiccas. At the time of Alexander’s death she was with child. But if, as was expected, and as actually happened, she were to give birth to a son, the same objection could be made to this child, namely, that he was of Oriental origin. Such a successor was not at all to the taste of the Makedonians. They maintained that the half-brother of Alexander, Arrhidseus, who at this time assumed his father’s name of Philip, was Alexander’s true successor.

This produced fresh complications. It is always a hazardous task to extricate the simple fact from the legendary additions with which history has been intentionally overlaid. The statement that after the king’s death the chief commanders, and among them Perdiccas, were disinclined to take any action until the birth of Roxana’s child had taken place, is not confirmed by the simplest account that we have of the matter. According to Diodorus the chief commanders claimed for themselves, after the death of the king, the obedience which the army had hitherto shown them. But the phalanx refused to obey the orders of their captains until a king should be named. The traditions of their own country possessed dominant influence over them, and they determined to have a king. They demanded that Arrhidseus should be recognised by the generals as well as by themselves. One of the generals consented, but at first it appeared as if the question would have to be decided by the sword. Arrhidseus, however, who was not in full possession of his wits, was not a man from whom the generals, who were almost without exception snen of talent and high military reputation, would have had anything to fear. They therefore recognised Arrhidseus as king, but apparently with a reservation in favour of the boy to whom Roxana might give birth. The rank and file of the army consented to admit the child to a certain share in the government.

It appears, then, that a sort of union of the Persian and Makedonian succession was in prospect. It is not worth while to investigate the question further, since it is one of no real interest. It was, however, a fact of the greatest importance that the generals, while recognising Arrhidjeus, insisted on the condition that the satrapies of the empire should be divided among them. Perdiccas, who was in possession of Alexander’s signet ring, and declared that he had received it from the king himself, was actually regarded as his lieutenant, and conducted this important operation. He assumed the position of chiliarch, which Bagoas had once occupied, and which Alexander had transferred to Hephses- tion, an office which conferred upon its holder the power of

G G

a regent. The chief deduction to be made from these events is that the Makedonian army showed itself to be the true possessor of power. It was understood that there was a king in whom supreme authority resided, but the army, under its original commanders, was the real ruler. It has been remarked that the greatest ornaments of literature have frequently appeared simultaneously, and the same may perhaps be said of military talent. Men like Ptolemasus the son of Lagus, Antigonus, Eumenes, Antipater, and Craterus were born to carry out great military operations. These men had become practically independent by the death of their king, but they recognised Arrhidneus and Perdiccas as their leaders.

The; Makedonian army had in this way freed itself from Persian influence. But it was equally unwilling to admit the Greeks to a share of power. In the inland provinces of Asia an outbreak of insubordination among the Greek inhabitants took place, but was at once put down. The insurgents were overwhelmed and destroyed by command of Perdiccas, who took care that the general whom he despatched for the purpose should not be tempted to put himself at their head. This movement was accompanied by a simultaneous rising in Greece itself, which deserves further mention. It was directed against Antipater, who, in the name of Alexander, exercised supreme power in that country. The news of the king’s death could not but produce a disturbing effect upon the Greeks. In Athens the Makedonian power was compared with the Cyclops whose single eye was put out, and it was proposed at once to take up arms against Antipater. Phokion was again hostile to the proposal. The answer that he gave to the question, when the occasion would arise for him to give his counsel for war, is very characteristic. ‘When I see,’ said he, ‘ that the young men know how to drill, when the rich men pay their debts, and when public speakers no longer seize on the property of the nation.’

But, in spite of his opposition, the movement found wide support elsewhere. Mercenaries out of service, some of whom were rejected by Alexander, while others had been dismissed by Persian satraps, had collected round the Athenian

Leosthenes. At the head of these troops, who brought with them from Asia a deadly hatred of the Makedonians, Leosthenes raised the flag of Grecian freedom. With the countenance of Demosthenes, and the connivance of the Athenians, he first of all led his mercenaries to /Etolia, where he received considerable reinforcements. After this he and his, friends, who all belonged to the same party, succeeded in persuading the Athenians to resolve on war. The ideas of Hellenic independence and freedom, overthrown by Philip and suppressed by Alexander, rose again to the surface. Demosthenes, although an exile from Athens, joined the Athenian ambassadors of his own free will, and lent them the support of his eloquence. The Athenians were first of all joined by the jEtolians and Thessalians. The Boeotians, who owed a great improvement in their circumstances to Alexander, refused their adhesion, but were forced to join the movement. Leosthenes occupied Thermopylae with so strong a force that Antipater retreated before him and shut himself up in Lamia. The reinforcements which Leonnatus was bringing him from Asia were beaten by the Greeks, and only a part of them succeeded in joining him. It is impossible not to sympathise with this revival of the ideas of Greek independence, but the cause of the Greeks was again hampered by their disunion. The craving for political isolation was still, as of old, uppermost in their hearts. The ^Etolians, on whose alliance with Athens the whole enterprise depended, were obliged by an attack of the Acarnanians to return home, and the rest of the allies had always to guard against their own particular enemies, while Sparta, once the most formidable state of Greece, took no part in the movement. At the same time the Greek soldier resented the severity of the discipline on which martial law insisted.

On the other hand the Makedonian commanders still held together, and maintained the unity of administration to which they had hitherto owed their success. Craterus led the invincible phalanx over to Makedonia, and the Greek levies proved no match for the Makedonian army. They were, moreover, compelled to fight at a time when

many of them, from contempt of the enemy, had returned home. The Thessalian cavalry, who had made the Grecian army to some extent formidable, held aloof from the battle, or were hindered from taking part in it, and at Cranon the Makedonian troops under Antipater and Craterus won a decided victory. This defeat, which took place on the anniversary of Chseroneia (August 5, 322 B.C.), was no less important than that battle for the future of Greece. Far from acknowledging the league which had been lately made by the Greeks, Antipater declared that he would only deal with them singly. They thereupon submitted, one city or state after another. Athens had to put up with a peace which was far more oppressive than the treaties which she had formerly made with Philip and with Alexander. The chief conditions of this peace were the acceptance of a Makedonian garrison and a fundamental change in the constitution, involving an enactment that the possession of a fortune of at least 2,000 drachmae was necessary to entitle a citizen to a vote in the management of public affairs. It was hoped that this would prevent those who had nothing to lose from disturbing or destroying the existing state of things. The result of these changes was that the democracy, as hitherto constituted, was overthrown, and the political independence of Athens entirely destroyed.

The catastrophe was marked by the death of the great orator, who had always offered the most strenuous opposition to the influence of Makedonia. He had now to endure the bitterness of being condemned to death by the newly- constructed Demos. He fled to Calauria, and took refuge in a temple of Poseidon. Messengers from Antipater tried to persuade him to trust himself to the mercy of their master, but he preferred to put an end to himself. It is narrated that, while pretending to write, he put the pen, in which he had concealed poison, into his mouth, and covered his head. When he felt the working of the poison he removed the veil, and called the gods to witness the sacrilege committed by the Makedonians, by whom the sanctity of the temple was violated. At the very foot of the altar he fell un

conscious, and breathed his last. At the moment when the freedom of Athens perished for ever the most eloquent mouth which had defended it was silenced by death ¹ : the' new world had no more place for Demosthenes. Four enemies of the Makedonians were torn away from the altar of iEacus, brought before Antipater, and put to death. About the same time Aristotle died. He belonged to the other party; but, when banished from Athens, found in Chalkis, under Makedonian protection, a harbour of refuge for his school.

With all our sympathy for the freedom of Greece we are still tempted, when we consider universal conditions, to find some compensation for its destruction in the fact that the full influence of Greek genius upon the world at large only began to be felt under the dominion of the Makedonians.

After the suppression of the insurrection in Greece the generals, afterwards known as the Diadochi, or successors of Alexander, fell out with one another. The supreme authority which Perdiccas exercised as representative of the monarchy received only grudging recognition from the principal generals. Perdiccas found himself obliged to take up arms against Ptolemaeus the son of Lagus, to whose share Egypt had fallen, and his ally Antigonus, who ruled over Phrygia. But

¹ This, with other circumstances, is the upshot of Ariston’s narrative, which Plutarch follows in his Life of Demosthenes (chap. 29). In the ‘ A.r}fxo(rQ£vovs iyKw/xLov* of Lucian this story is enlarged by a speech full of invectives against the Makedonians, which Demosthenes is supposed to have uttered, and by other imaginary additions. In the Life of the Ten Orators, formerly ascribed to Plutarch, we read that the Makedonians tried to lay hands on Demosthenes, but were hindered by the inhabitants of the town (p. 846). But Strabo assures us that the Makedonians were restrained by respect for the shrine from laying hands upon him (vii. e. 14, p. 374) ; and that, instead of listening to the invitation to leave the temple, Demosthenes poisoned himself. In another report, which comes from the family of Demosthenes, it was maintained that Demosthenes did not perish by poison, but through the special care of the gods escaped by a painless death from the danger of falling into the hands of the Makedonians, Similar versions, in which a death which others regarded as violent is traced to the special grace of the gods, are also to be found elsewhere, Qn the other hand, an author as ancient as Philichorus ascribed the death of Demosthenes to poison (in Plutarch, p. 874B ; fragment 139 in Muller, Fragm. Hist, Gi^a<tc. i, p. 407). This tradition has been generally followed. Of the circumstances which accompanied the event those which I have inserted in the text appear to me to have most confirmation.

Ptolemasus had taken up a strong defensive position in Egypt, so that the expedition of Perdiccas did not attain the desired results. This, in its turn, led to a revolution on the banks of the Nile. Perdiccas was haughty and domineering, and asked no one for advice. Ptolemasus, on the other hand, was good-humoured and yielding, and did nothing without asking the advice of his lieutenants. By this concession he met halfway the claims which the Makedonian generals had accustomed themselves to make. When the two armies met on the banks of the Nile, the principal commanders of Perdiccas went over to Ptolemasus. Perdiccas was murdered in his tent.¹ Thereupon a council of generals met, who, loyal as ever to the hereditary reigning family of Makedonia, entrusted Antipater with the duties of government.

At this point our attention is forcibly drawn to the fact that it was in itself an impossible task to keep together under any form of government the empire which Alexander had appeared to leave behind him. I say appeared, because his different conquests had not been compacted into anything like a state. In the provinces, which had once formed separate kingdoms, the idea of reviving these kingdoms naturally cropped up. But, further, the Makedonian commanders had no intention of maintaining the combination of the Greek element with the Makedonian. It is intelligible that the commanders of Greek extraction regarded with favour a supreme authority like that of Perdiccas, for such a commander-in-chief gave them some support against the pretensions of the inferior Makedonian officers. The latter showed their'feelings by raising Antipater to the position of a grand vizier. This they did of their own authority, although it was impossible to appeal to any indication in Antipater’s favour on the part of Alexander, and they did it at the very time when he had just put down an insurrection in Greece. At the same time they condemned to death Eumenes, the only Greek among them, on the charge of having been a partisan of Perdiccas.

¹ Clinton (Fasti Hell. ii. 164) fixes the death of Perdiccas in the spring of 321 B.C. (01. 114, 3), so that he exercised supreme authority only two years; not three, according to Diodorus (xviii. 36).

Eumenes of Cardia had been the private secretary of King Philip during his later years, and had been continually employed by Alexander, to whom he had attached himself, in business of the first importance. He had had the credit of bringing about the compromise which was made after the king’s death between the rank and file of the Makedonian army and the principal commanders. For this service he had been rewarded with the satrapy of Cappadocia, which, however, he had first of all to reduce to complete subjection. He would probably have been able to maintain his position had he held firmly to the arrangement which he himself had brought about, but his adherence to Perdiccas was regarded as a crime worthy of death. Antipater felt himself impelled to entrust Antigonus, the most important of the generals who had allied themselves with Ptolemaeus, with a general commission for the destruction of Eumenes. The latter found unexpected support in the complications produced by the death of Antipater, which took place just at this time (B.C. 319). Antipater bequeathed the supreme authority, which the army had placed in his hands, to Polysperchon, a member of a comparatively unimportant family in Epeirus. Polysperchon attempted to acquire greater consideration by summoning back to Makedonia the queen dowager, Olympias, who had taken refuge in Epeirus. This step was a great deviation from the policy which had hitherto been followed, for Olympias had been hostile to Antipater, but its chief importance for the collective empire, if we may use the phrase, was that it brought into existence a new embodiment of the supreme power. Olympias, Polysperchon, and Eumenes were naturally allied together. They represented a supreme authority, closely connected with the monarchy, and independent alike of the provincial authorities and the military commanders. The military and political power of the Makedonian generals inevitably came into collision with each several member of this alliance.

The combination was first of all disastrous for Eumenes. The chief soldiers of the phalanx, who were distinguished by silver-plated shields, whence their name of Argyraspides, had

hitherto held firmly to him, and refused to recognise the sentence uttered on the banks of the Nile. But a defeat experienced by Eumenes, which threatened to tarnish the lustre of their reputation, impelled them to deliver up their general to Antigonus. Eumenes was shortly afterwards put to death (316-15 B.C.). He was the only Greek in the Makedonian military hierarchy. The Grecian element, which had had so large a share in the conquests of Alexander, was excluded by the commanders of Makedonian origin.

Against Polysperchon and Olympias the independent tendencies of the Makedonian officers found an ally like- minded with themselves in Cassander, the son of Antipater, who could not bear the loss of the authority which had belonged to his father. Antigonus supplied him with a considerable fleet and army. Thus equipped, he appeared before Athens, which was unable to make any resistance. The Makedonians, enraged at the tyranny of Olympias, to whom they ascribed the death of Arrhidseus,¹ which occurred about this time, took the side of Cassander. The supporters of Polysperchon were everywhere annihilated. At last Olympias herself, after standing a long siege in Pydna, fell into the hands of her enemies. She was treated with horrible cruelty, being stoned to death by the relatives of the Makedonians whom she had executed (spring of 315 B.C.). But it was not only on account of her crimes and deeds of violence that she died : in her the race of the Makedonian kings came to an end. Hers was a tragic fate, for by furthering the enterprises of her son she created circumstances which led to her own destruction.

In the first movements of the Makedonians on behalf of their hereditary royal family the two sons of Alexander the Great were murdered one after another. The one, Alexander ./ Egus, whose mother was Roxana, was the boy for whom the monarchy was at one time destined ; the other, named Heracles, was also of Persian descent, being the son of a daughter of Artabazus, Memnon’s widow. A like fate befell Cleopatra, the widowed sister of Alexander, the last representative of the royal house. The chief generals had been rivals for her hand, because the Makedonians clung to their veneration for the hereditary royal family. So far as can be made out she inclined to Ptolemseus the son of Lagus, who ruled in Egypt, but she thereby aroused the hatred of Antigonus, who compassed her murder—so at least was said —by means of her female slaves.

In her perished the last of those who could base a claim to the throne on the ground of descent. The only question now was whether any of the chief generals could maintain a supremacy over the rest. This claim was put forward by Antigonus, whom Antipater had named Strategus of Asia against Eumenes. The rest, however, refused to acknowledge him as supreme, and war was therefore inevitable. Ptolemaeus the son of Lagus, the ruler of Egypt, was most decided in rejecting such a supremacy. In order to maintain his father’s claim, Demetrius Poliorketes, the son of Antigonus, brought a numerous army, provided with Indian elephants, into the field. In the year 312 B.C. a decisive battle took place at Gaza, in which Demetrius met with a repulse. This battle established the independence of Egypt.

At the same time a general change of ideas began to show itself. Demetrius and Ptolemasus rivalled each other in their lust for fame and territory, but this very rivalry involved some sort of mutual recognition. The conflict appeared to them a kind of civil war, but the prizes to be gained in this war were vast provinces which aimed at becoming, and might become, kingdoms in themselves. Cassander took up a position similar to that of Ptolemaeus, and championed similar interests. Demetrius, defeated by land, but still maintaining his supremacy at sea, now set sail for Greece. Here he got the better of Cassander, in spite of the assistance from Egypt which the latter enjoyed. He next turned his forces against the fleet of Ptolemseus, which lay off Cyprus. A battle took place, not less important than that of Gaza, but with a different issue. Ptolemseus had 150 ships, which in case of need could be strengthened by sixty more from Salamis.

Against this auxiliary squadron Demetrius despatched only ten ships, but his line of battle was stronger by thirty ships than that of the enemy.¹ This superiority of force enabled him to inflict a severe defeat upon Ptolemffius. The latter escaped with difficulty, accompanied only by eight ships, while seventy fell into the hands of Demetrius (spring of 306 B.C.)

The victorious general won much credit for moderation and generosity. He provided his fallen enemies with a splendid funeral, and presented the Athenians with 1,200 complete suits of armour ; for he consistently aimed at rendering himself famous for magnanimity. But the battle had very unexpected results. Immediately after the event Demetrius entrusted one Aristodemus, a confidential friend of his family, who had already been active in furthering their interests in Greece, with the duty of bringing the news to his father, who at the time was living at Antigoneia. Before anyone had heard of the victory Aristodemus stopped his ship at some distance from the land, and went ashore in a small boat by himself. He refused to answer any questions till he reached the palace. Antigonus, extremely eager to hear the news, came out to meet him at his door, while the people stood in crowds around. Then Aristodemus with a loud voice exclaimed, ‘ O King Antigonus, we have won the victory Cyprus is ours.’ This address may be said to have inaugurated a new era. The title of king, uttered by Aristodemus, was taken up by the people with a shout of ‘ Long live King Antigonus ! ’ and was accepted by Antigonus himself, who at the same time conferred the title on his son.

Antigonus was a man of imposing appearance and rugged exterior, fond of joking with his soldiers, but to others hard of access and domineering. He was careful to husband his resources, and, through frequent success, had conceived a high notion of his power. It may fairly be assumed that he intended to revive the Makedonian monarchy, and to insist on universal submission to his word. He had already made attempts in this direction, for the war which he was carrying on had originated in his claim for supremacy. Now that he had won a great victory he had no hesitation in assuming a title which raised him above all competitors. While claiming full independence for himself, he refused to recognise a similar claim on the part of his opponents, Ptolemaeus and Cassander. It was not, however, likely that the latter would give way. They too resolved, one after another, to assume the royal title. This was done in direct opposition to Antigonus, who thought to strengthen his claim for supremacy by taking the name of king. The assumption of the same title by others implied that they were his equals, as absolute as he was and independent of his authority. Although Ptolemaeus had lost Cyprus, he was, nevertheless, proclaimed king in Egypt. The possession of the mortal remains of Alexander the Great, which had been handed over to his keeping by those who had the care of the funeral equipage, seems to have procured him a sort of mysterious reputation in that country. An attempt on the part of Antigonus to attack Ptolemaeus in Egypt failed rather through unfavourable weather and the difficulties of the climate than from military causes. On the other hand Demetrius, who, after his victory at Cyprus, sailed to Rhodes, encountered the most strenuous opposition in that island, and was at last compelled to recognise its neutrality.

The resistance which Rhodes and Egypt offered to Demetrius is closely connected with the appearance of other independent states in the midst of this universal warfare and confusion. The most important of these powers was that of Seleucus, who ruled in Babylon and in Upper Asia. Seleucus was one of the younger companions of Alexander, who had won his reputation mainly in the Indian campaigns. On account of the share he had taken in the overthrow of Per- diccas he was raised by the Makedonians of Antipater’s party to the satrapy of Babylon. In the conflict with Eumenes he took the side of Antigonus, but on the conclusion of that struggle there ensued between him and Antigonus a feud which in its origin is indicative of the general state of affairs. Antigonus, by virtue of his royal power, attempted to control the satrap of Babylon, and demanded an account of the revenues of his satrapy. This was refused by Seleucus, on the ground that he too had been named satrap by the Makedonians, and was, therefore, independent of Antigonus. At first Antigonus was too strong for his opponent. Seleucus, unable to hold his ground, took to flight with a body of faithful followers, and found refuge with Ptole- mseus, who had the reputation of giving ready help to his friends in need.

Seleucus took a prominent part in the earlier conflicts between Antigonus and Ptolemaeus, and especially in the battle of Gaza, which’secured the independence of Egypt. In consequence of this battle Seleucus was enabled to return to Babylon. That Antigonus had never made good his footing in that city is shown by the attitude of the Chaldaeans, who informed him that he must secure the person of Seleucus if he was to escape destruction at his hands. Seleucus was welcomed back to Babylon. It is a matter of great importance that it was in these centres of the most ancient and peculiar civilisation, such as Egypt and Babylon, that the Makedonian generals first succeeded in establishing governments which awoke territorial sympathies and gave birth to new kingdoms. Seleucus established an independent authority in the interior of Asia. This success was principally due to the fact that he entered into a sort of partnership with an Indian ruler named Sandrocottus.

In the rise of Sandrocottus there are to be seen, if I mistake not, traces of national and religious influences. A Buddhist tradition is extant according to which Sandrocottus¹ was persuaded by the Brahmins to make himself master of the kingdom of the Prasii, which Alexander had threatened but had not actually attacked. This was the origin of the kingdom of Palimbothra. Seleucus was not in a position to overthrow this power, and was content to make a treaty with Sandrocottus, in accordance with which 500 elephants were placed at his disposal. These animals henceforward formed the nucleus of the force with which Seleucus subdued the inland provinces of Asia. Against a combination between Babylon and India, and in the face of the allied Indian and Graeco-Makedonian forces, Persia was unable again to raise her head. In addition to these successes other circumstances enabled Seleucus to interfere actively in the disputes which disturbed the provinces of Asia Minor. The most important cause of the struggle which broke out in those districts was the following.

Lysimachus, who had reduced the inhabitants of his Thracian satrapy to a greater degree of subjection than Philip or even Alexander, had, like other satraps, raised himself to a position of independence. He refused to submit to Antigonus, and assumed the royal title. The same course of action was pursued in Makedonia by Cassander, whose effigy appears on his coins as king, although it is probable that in documents he did not use the royal style. It was natural that a sort of league should be established between Seleucus, Lysimachus, and Cassander against the prerogative which Antigonus claimed, and which the Ptolemies also refused to recognise. Antigonus set himself first of all to subdue Cassander in Makedonia. In this attempt he principally relied on the activity and talent of his son Demetrius. With the latter he was always on good terms, and was glad that the world should know it.

Demetrius, like his father, was a man of imposing presence. Though not quite equal to Antigonus in stature, he combined a grace and beauty of his own with the awe-inspiring and dignified appearance which he inherited from the latter, and the haughty expression of his countenance was softened by an air of princely magnanimity. He was fond of society and delighted in feasting with his comrades, hut this did not render him less attentive to more serious employment. He had a leaning towards Greek culture, and was even ambitious of being initiated into the Mysteries. The Athenians revered him as a god.

Demetrius, by promising freedom to the Greeks, became involved in new hostilities with Cassander. In this conflict he maintained his superiority ; he not only wrested from Cassander his dominions in Greece, but threatened him in Makedonia. Cassander began to think it advisable to open friendly negotiations with Antigonus. The latter, however, rejected all efforts at reconciliation in which any conditions were offered. Indignant at this treatment, Cassander sought help of Lysimachus, to whom the independence of Makedonia was indispensable for the maintenance of his own position in Thrace. At the same time he applied to the two new mo- narchs, Ptolemasus and Seleucus, who had already made themselves independent. The four kings combined their forces against the fifth, who laid claim to an universal supremacy.

At Ipsus, in Phrygia, the armies came into collision, in the summer of the year 301. Antigonus had at first spoken of his enemies with contempt, as a flock of birds whom he would disperse with a single stone ; but he could not fail to be impressed by the combination which Lysimachus and Seleucus effected on the banks of the Halys. His enemies brought a force into the field which, though not more numerous than his own, possessed an undoubted superiority in the elephants which accompanied Seleucus. In the warfare of the time elephants formed a very formidable and effective arm. Antigonus possessed seventy-five of these animals, but Seleucus brought four hundred into the field. This fact alone seems to have produced in the camp of Antigonus a presentiment of coming misfortune. Indeed, Antigonus himself, who on all previous occasions felt certain of success, is said to have called upon the gods either to grant him victory or save him by a speedy death from the disgrace of defeat. At the first collision the cavalry of Demetrius were successful, but their victory was rendered useless by the rashness of their leader, who pressed on too far in the pursuit. The soldiers of the phalanx did not venture to close with the elephants. If their enemy was no Porus, their leader was no Alexander, and they were not prepared to risk everything in order to protect Antigonus against the other captains of the Makedonian army. Accordingly, when Seleucus summoned the phalanx to come over to his side, a large body obeyed his invitation. Antigonus in vain awaited his son’s return ; before the latter came back from the pursuit in which he was engaged, his father was killed by a javelin. He was already more than eighty years old. Demetrius withdrew to his fleet, upon which alone he could now place reliance.

It may be worth while to remark that the battle of Ipsus was not decided by any real conflict between the Makedonian forces in either army, but by a portion of one army changing sides. The unity of the Makedonian forces was still to some extent maintained. The battle of Ipsus bears great resemblance to the events that had lately taken place on the Nile. In that conflict the first man who, after the death of Alexander, had laid claim to universal authority succumbed, while at Ipsus the second claimant, who believed himself entitled to exercise a similar if less extensive authority, was overthrown and set aside. That event decided that henceforward the military monarchs were to be on an equality. But at the same moment another question, rather provincial than universal in its nature, was raised by the dissolution of the kingdom of Antigonus and the division of his territory among the victors. Seleucus enlarged his dominions in Western Asia by the addition of Mesopotamia, Armenia, and Syria as far as the Euphrates, while Ptolemasus established himself in possession of Kcele-Syria. In this manner two new empires of wide extent and established authority came into existence.

While these incidents ushered in a new state of things in the East, events in Europe were following a different, and indeed opposite, course. In the East the power of Antigonus was destroyed ; in the West his descendants obtained possession of the throne of Makedonia. Let us endeavour to explain in a few words how this took place.

Demetrius Poliorketes, who had already won the greatest reputation among the military commanders of his day, held his ground in Cyprus and on the neighbouring coasts of Cilicia and Phoenicia. But he could have had no intention of looking further eastward. The element on which he possessed real power was the sea, and his interests called him to Greece, where a short time before he had been raised to the position of Strategus. He had indeed to experience a diminution of authority in Greece, owing to the issue of the battle of Ipsus, for Athens, at whose hands, as he justly declared, he deserved better treatment, deserted his cause, and other cities followed her example. But their desertion only heightened the ambition of Demetrius, who now had some appearance of right on his side ; he therefore turned his forces against Athens. That city found support in the kings of Thrace, Makedonia, and Egypt. It was a question of universal interest whether Demetrius would overpower Athens or not.

Demetrius was aided by the excesses of the democracy, which in Athens exercised a sort of tyranny. While the strength of the city was wasted in violent internal feuds, he used his navy with such effect that an Egyptian squadron sent to aid the Athenians could gain no advantage over him. He then proceeded to cut off the Athenian supplies, so that the inhabitants, wasted by internal strife and pinched by famine, were forced to submit. Everyone has heard how Demetrius assembled the people in the theatre, and instead of inflicting upon them the penalties which appeared imminent—for they were completely surrounded by the victorious army—gave them a free pardon, restored their liberties, and made them a welcome present of provisions. It was, in great measure, to the glory of her literature that Athens owed her escape on this occasion, for Demetrius was by nature susceptible to influences of this kind, and was eager to be credited with generosity.

After this success Demetrius thought comparatively little of losing the remainder of his father’s dominions in Asia, which fell into the hands of his neighbours, for a new field was now open for his activity. Cassander, king of Makedonia, was lately dead,¹ and among his sons there was no one to take his place. The eldest of them, who succeeded his father, died young, and his brothers were soon at open war over his inheritance. The struggle for power has never caused more horrible crimes than in the period with which we are now dealing, and the most horrible of all was committed by the elder of the surviving sons of Cassander. He put his mother to death because he believed that she gave the preference to his younger brother, Alexander—an act which has involved him in eternal infamy. The younger son, Alexander, was of a vacillating character, and subject to extraneous influence. It is therefore not surprising that the Makedonians turned their eyes to Demetrius, who was son-in-law of the elder Antipater, and of whose temperate conduct they preserved a favourable recollection.

Demetrius caused Alexander to- be put to death at a festival in Larissa. The Macedonian troops who accompanied him went over to Demetrius, and the latter followed him to Macedonia, where he found a favourable reception, especially as he brought with him his son, Antigonus Gonatas, the grandson of Antipater, who was to be his heir. Encouraged by this success, he formed the plan of passing over again into Asia and reviving his father's dominions in that quarter. But while preparing to carry out this intention he was deserted by the troops whom he had collected for the purpose. These troops had been willing enough to make Demetrius master of Macedonia, for in so doing they had run no great risk ; but to accompany him to Asia and to restore him to his father’s power would of necessity involve a sanguinary contest with other troops who themselves belonged to the Macedonian army. Such an undertaking was therefore by no means to their taste. The events which had occurred on the Nile and on the field of Ipsus were repeated a third time on this occasion. The Macedonians refused to serve a prince who attempted to entangle them in a dangerous struggle, in which only his personal interests were involved.

It was clear, then, that the military power gave up the attempt to combine the conquests of Alexander into one united empire. It acquiesced in the necessity of a partition of territory, in itself of very extensive nature, and continually involving fresh difficulties. Lysimachus had lately established a kingdom in Thrace, which included a portion of Asia Minor. The continued existence of this kingdom was perhaps desirable in order that resistance might be made to the neighbouring barbarian races, not so much to those of Scythian as to those of Celtic origin. But the Thracian kingdom could not establish itself on a firm basis. On one of its borders it was constantly exposed to attacks from Macedonia, against which, however, Lysimachus was able to defend himself. Demetrius followed a rash and adventurous policy. By attempting at one and the same time to maintain himself in Macedonia and Greece, to conquer Thrace, and to attack Asia, he became involved in hostilities with Seleucus. In the course of these hostilities he fell into the hands of that prince and died in prison (B.C. 283).

Successful against Demetrius, Lysimachus quarrelled with Seleucus. The two princes had combined against Antigonus and his son, but when there was nothing more to fear from these opponents they fell out with each other. They were the two last living companions of Alexander the Great, but in spite of this and of their advanced age these generals transformed into kings were animated by a restless craving for the exclusive possession of a supreme power which had no legitimate representative, a craving which led to the destruction of their families and continually embittered their mutual relations. As the Makedonian prince alluded to above made away with his mother, so Lysimachus put to death his son as soon as he appeared to become dangerous. The friends and supporters of the latter took refuge with Seleucus, whereupon war broke out between the two kings. At the very first collision with Seleucus, Lysimachus succumbe'd.¹ His power melted away and his kingdom disappeared.

Above the ruins of the kingdom of Thrace the kingdom of Makedonia maintained its footing, or rather, we may say, was established anew. In the universal confusion known as the time of the anarchy, Antigonus Gonatas, son of Demetrius and grandson of Antipater, succeeded to the throne of Makedonia (270 B.C.). Here too the authority of the ancient kings came into the hands of a race whose founder was one of Alexander’s generals. The government of Antigonus Gonatas forms an epoch in the history of his country. He maintained the influence of Makedonia in Greece, but respected the independence of the latter. He kept up a stubborn contest with the northern barbarians, and at the same time came into contact with the western powers, who were struggling with each other for the possession of Italy. We shall come upon this kingdom by-and-by in a different connexion, but our present object is to trace the history of the two other kingdoms, which followed the path that Alexander had opened to them. Their development is one of the most splendid episodes in the history of the world.

Among the great names of antiquity that of Seleucus Nicator is conspicuous, as a star of the second magnitude indeed, but of the most brilliant lustre. His history, like the histories of Cyrus and Romulus, is enveloped in legend, a proof at any rate of the importance attached to him by his contemporaries. To him we must ascribe a decisive share in most of the great military events of the epoch. He had originally divided Asia Minor with Lysimachus, but, in consequence of the battle alluded to above, the latter’s share was added to his own. His dominions thus extended from the Hellespont to the Indus, and it was chiefly through him that the Graeco-Makedonian power in Asia became firmly established. The power of the Persian Empire, maintained by depriving the subject races of independent armaments, prepared the way for the supremacy of the Greeks and Makedonians. Alexander showed tact in announcing that he intended to free the Asiatic peoples from the Persian yoke ; for the only real resistance which he experienced from the populations with which he came into contact was in Tyre and on the Indus. Nevertheless this dominion was by no means secure when it came into the hands of Perdiccas. It might, indeed, have been expected that it would have been weakened by the mutual rivalries of the commanders ; but, as we have already remarked, their conflicts were never very sanguinary. The Makedonian army avoided what, at a later epoch of the world’s history, was of frequent occurrence in the Frankish army, with which it had much resemblance. A serious struggle between two portions of the former body never took place. If these portions agreed to separate, a compensation was to be found in the fact that this severance enabled them better to consolidate their respective dominions.

The dominion of Seleucus can hardly be regarded as a continuation of that of Alexander or of the Persian empire, for its true centre was at Babylon ; on the contrary, it was rather a revival of the Assyrio-Babylonian empire, which, by the aid of the Grseco-Makedonian army, freed itself from the grasp of the Medes and Persians. The Magi were, so to speak, expelled by the Chaldaeans. Bel, the god of Babel, attained in Seleukeia, the capital of Seleucus, to a religious influence over the interior of Asia which in earlier times he had never enjoyed. In Media, if not in Persia, colonies of no small importance, sent out by the new monarch, are to be found.

In spite of the independence of Sandrocottus the connexion with India, as is proved by the coins of Grecian workmanship which are found in those regions, was maintained. In other districts, as under Alexander, a certain fusion of the Oriental and Makedonian civilisations took place. In Armenia a Persian named Orontes had established his power, and as early as the middle of the third century we find, from the evidence of a coin, that a king named Arsames was reigning in that country. Cappadocia was ruled by Ariarathes, who claimed descent from an intimate friend of Dareius. In the second century we find in this country a king of Greek culture named Ariarathes the Fifth. The kings of Pontus, who bore the title of Mithridates and were recognized by the successors of Alexander as early as the year 300, declared themselves to be descendants of a Persian grandee named Artabazus, of the time of Dareius Hystaspis. From an early date they paid attention to Greek culture, and one of them is described as an admirer of Plato. In the north-western table-land of Media a portion of the old Persian empire survived. After the fall of that empire Atropates remained as satrap in this region, and his name lived on for many centuries in the name of the territory over which he ruled. Swarms of marauders often issued from this country by the passes near the Caspian Sea, and traversed the dominions of Seleucus as far as Ecbatana ; and the connexion between the Caspian and Black Seas, which Seleucus Attempted to maintain, was frequently interrupted.

Of the hostilities between Media and Syria, which, according to Strabo, led to the revolt of Bactria and Parthia, we have only vague and fragmentary information. In the territory of Bactria, the home of an ancient civilisation, the Greek dominion maintained itself, though not always under the supremacy of the Syrian monarchs. So early as the middle of the third century there appear independent rulers of Greek origin, such as Diodotus. His family was driven out by Euthydemus, whose son Demetrius appears as king of the Indians. The Greeks had established themselves firmly in Bactria, and thence extended their power to India. Historical research is acquainted with these kings only through their coins, from which it is ascertained that they were frequently at war with one another. As representatives of Greek power and culture in the most distant regions they deserve to escape oblivion. So far as can be discovered, it was at the moment of their separation from the Syrian kingdom that the Parthians too rose against the Seleukidse. Their rising took place under the leadership of Arsakes, who is described by Strabo as a native of Scythia. The Parthians were a nation of horsemen, who in earlier times had always assisted the Persians, but refused to be kept in subjection by the Greeks.

It is evident from these considerations that the Syrian monarchy was far from ruling all that had belonged to Persia. In reality its power was confined to Mesopotamia, Babylon, Asia Minor, and Syria. Let us take a rapid survey of the latter. Syria properly so called contained four important towns, two of which, namely Antioch and Apameia, were in the interior. The latter was the arsenal of the Selcukidre, and was provided with a fortification on a hill where the prince kept his stud of elephants. The other two cities were on the coast. One of these, named Scleukeia, was built on a spur of the Pierian mountains, difficult of access on all sides and strongly fortified, so as to form a refuge in case of need. Where the rocky hillside drops towards the sea a harbour had been made, around which a seaport sprang up, but this seaport was quite separate from the city itself, which was accessible only to foot passengers, by means of precipitous paths. The ruins of the city are still to be seen. Somewhat further south we find another fortified place with a better harbour, named Laodikcia, a city deriving great wealth from its trade in wine. A road, of incomparable interest from the variety and cultivation of the districts through which it passed, led from Laodikcia to Antioch. These cities formed the Syrian Tctrapolis. Sclcucus named Antioch after his father, Laodikcia after his mother; and these two citics, founded by himself, he probably regarded as the most important in his dominions. Apamcia was named after his Persian wife, Seleukeia after himself.

Seleucus may be regarded as one of the greatest founders of citics who have ever lived. Centuries afterwards he is celebrated by Appian as a man endowed with an energy and activity which always attained their aim, who out of miserable peasants’ huts created great and flourishing cities. A long list of cities founded by him continues the tale of those which keep alive the recollection of Alexander in the East. These cities, however, must not be reckoned solely to the credit of Seleucus and Alexander. Their origin was closely connected with the main tendencies of Greek colonisation. The Greeks had struggled long and often to penetrate into Asia, but so long as the Persian Empire remained supreme they were energetically repulsed, and it was only as mercenaries that they found admittance.) This ban was now removed. Released from all restrictions and attracted by the revolution in political affairs, the Greeks now streamed into Asia Minor, Syria, and Egypt. We find them everywhere; even Judaea found herself on all her frontiers exposed to the influence of Greek culture, which, emanating from Syria or Egypt, hemmed her in on every side. The Jews profited by the opportunity thus afforded ±0 take part in the general movement, but without breaking the ties which bound them to their high priest and to Jerusalem. The kings of Syria granted them a share in the municipal administration of the towns, with whose consent the Greeks had been introduced, but the Hellenic element remained universally predominant.

If we enquire, then, which are the towns that owed their origin to this movement of the nations, we shall find that Antioch had already been founded by Antiochus, who colonised it partly with Makedonians, but still more with Athenians. The orators praise the fertility of its soil and the beauty of its scenery, the mildness of its climate in winter, and the coolness of its summer breezes. The city was traversed by a street of unusual dimensions, three-quarters of a mile in length, resembling those of Naples and Palermo in later times. A mile from the city lay a grove sacred to Apollo and Diana, called Daphne, where art and nature combined to form a resort of pleasure and debauchery.

Still more splendid was the position of Alexandria in Egypt, the most important of all the foundations of Alexander. The Ptolemies maintained their supremacy in the Mediterranean. They conquered Cyprus and made Rhodes their ally ; Egyptian merchants were to be found even in the Black Sea. The close connexion between Egyptian and Greek civilization which thus sprang up is shown by the fact that a statue of the Stygian Zeus was brought from Sinope to Egypt, to be worshipped there as the Serapis-Osiris of the under-world. In the internal disputes that raged among the Greeks of the mother country the Ptolemies exercised a very strong political influence. One of the consequences of this probably was that the most ancient myths about the connexion between Egypt and Greece were now revived. But what gave Egypt under the Ptolemies a world-wide importance, little inferior to that which it had enjoyed under the Pharaohs, was the revival of maritime trade with India. It was in accordance with the position of the Ptolemies that this trade should be still further developed. At the spot where the continents of Africa and Asia are almost severed from each other by the Red Sea, the Ptolemies created a waterway to join the Mediterranean with the Southern Ocean. This had been formerly attempted by Necho, but his canal had been choked by sand. Restored by Ptolemy Philadelphus, it existed till the time of the Romans. At the same time the Red Sea was swept clear of Arabian pirates, so that trade with India could again be conducted with safety. The merchandise, which came from the farthest East as well as from Arabia and Ethiopia, was brought to the harbour of Alexandria, whence it was distributed all over the world.

By these means Egypt attained to a condition of wealth and prosperity such as it had never yet enjoyed. Without giving credit to the exaggerated statements which have been made respecting its population, there can be no doubt that, however populous the more ancient centres of industry may have been, they were far exceeded by those of Egypt under the Ptolemies. We need not enquire deeply into the statistics of the Egyptian treasury, which is said to have contained 74,000 talents : for even if these were only talents of copper, the quantity of money must have been very considerable. The armed force of the nation was estimated at 3,500 ships of war and an army of 240,000 men. This army, owing to the fact that it originally consisted of Makedonian troops, always maintained a certain amount of independence. The prince ascended the throne only after the troops had acknowledged him as king. This dual control was not incompatible with an equality of civic rights. The different national elements, Egyptian and Greek, which co-existed in the cities, and to which in Alexandria we must add the Jews', were placed on an equality in point of citizenship. If the great movements of the time rendered it less important to set up a new empire in the place of the old than to bring into harmony the different national elements, often hostile to each other, this object was nowhere so fully attained as in Egypt. The Egyptian and Greek religions had a mutual attraction for one another. The Hellenistic Ptolemies fostered the native religion, and Ptolemy the son of Lagus is said to have spent the sum of fifty talents in the effort to discover the lost bull Apis. After ages of obscurity Egyptian antiquities were again brought to light. As Berosus connected Babylonian traditions with the house of the Seleukidae, so Manetho regarded the ancient dynasties of Egypt, whose existence he discovered from their monuments, as predecessors of the Ptolemies, and held the latter to be legitimate successors of the ancient kings. The version of the Old Testament made at Alexandria, and called, after the seventy translators, the Septuagint, has obtained a sort of sanctity. In that translation there is no reference to the present; the earliest times are presented in their unadorned simplicity.

But the fact of the greatest importance for after ages is that Alexandria became a new metropolis for the development of Greek literature and learning. The immediate cause of this lay in the constant struggle between the great interests and powers which disturbed and ravaged Greece. Safety and leisure for study, which had once been looked for in Macedonia, were now offered by Alexandria. We must not indeed expect to find in Alexandria philosophical or poetical productions of the first rank ; for this the times, altered as they were, were no longer suited. What the Greek genius was still capable of doing in these branches was done on the soil of the mother country. But in Alexandria a library was created which was intended to contain all the monuments of Greek literature. Men appeared who possessed a talent for universal learning, such as hitherto could not have been manifested. The chief of these was Eratosthenes, without doubt one of the greatest librarians that have ever lived. His love of work amounted to a passion. When his eyes refused to serve him, so that he could read no longer, he is said to have refused to prolong his life and to have starved himself to death. The great political position which Egypt held was not without influence in the sphere of science, and gave a new impulse to physical research. Eratosthenes was the first to compile, though with insufficient means, a table of degrees of latitude and longitude. A knowledge of Oriental cosmology, especially of the observations of the Chaldeans, was indispensable for the prosecution of enquiries into the relation of the earth to the system of which it forms a part. These enquiries would, however, have been impossible without the development of mathematical science. None of the triumphs of Greek genius surpass the elaboration of the mathematical method which Euclid brought to perfection in Alexandria. In the same town Archimedes also studied for some time. The grammatical sciences on the one hand, the mathematical and physical on the other, flourished in Alexandria side by side, and formed a foundation for all the later science of the world.

CHAPTER XII.

A GLANCE AT CARTHAGE AND SYRACUSE.

The political condition of the Eastern world depended on the balance of power between the three Graeco-Makedonian kingdoms. But in addition to them there was another power, of a nature essentially different, which occupied a dominant position in the West. So long as the Greek nationality and the Greek genius were excluded from the East, they had pressed on by means of trade and warfare towards Western Europe, for forces once developed have a constant tendency to unlimited extension. But in the West they were met by the naval power of Carthage. There arose a struggle between the Greek cities in Sicily, the chief of which was Syracuse, and the Carthaginians, who strove without intermission to maintain and to strengthen the position in the island which they had already obtained. This struggle bears some analogy with that between Makedonia and Persia, with which at one time, as we shall see, it was actually connected. Nevertheless it bears in reality quite a different character, for it was not fought out between great kings, but between two republics. One of these, namely Carthage, was of Semitic origin, and manifested oligarchical tendencies, while the other, Syracuse, was closely connccted with the mother country of Greece, and was under a government in which democratic forms, now and then alternating with a tyranny, preponderated.

Let us in the first place describe as briefly as possible the position of Carthage. Strabo is the first writer who remarks, the unity and compactness of those regions on the shores of the Mediterranean 'which lie beyond the point where the western promontory of Sicily 'approaches most nearly to the coast of Africa. The strait, as Strabo calls it, is here only about ninety miles across. At this spot, on the northern coast of Africa, the Tyrian colony of Carthage had established a maritime empire of its own. In the most ancient times the Greeks tried in vain to obtain a footing in Corsica and Sardinia, and were obliged to give up the attempt. Cagliari is a Punic, that is to say, a Carthaginian colony. The island of Malta or Melita received its name, which means a place of refuge, from Punic seamen. So, too, Panor- mus is but a translation of the Punic name Am-Machanath, derived from its extensive harbour. Composed of the same elements, and animated by the same impulses as Tyre, Carthage possessed this advantage over its mother city, that there were no powerful states engaged in conflict in its rear. From the Greeks in Kyrene it was separated by a desert in which the frontier had been hallowed by a human sacrifice, represented by tradition as having been of a voluntary nature. The Libyan neighbours of Carthage were subject to no foreign influence, so that the Carthaginians were in undisputed possession of a considerable territory.

All attempts on the part of foreigners to reach the Straits of Gibraltar by sea were opposed by the Carthaginians with a jealousy regardless of consequences. They sank all the ships which ventured to invade their domain. Beyond the straits they founded colonies both in Spain and Africa. Southern Spain was covered with Libyo-Phcenician settlements, and Tartessus, a city which had repelled Grecian attacks, was forced to recognise the supremacy of the Carthaginians. We have an account of their voyages in a southern direction in the course of which they sailed round Cape Bojador. Traces have been found in their histories of their having reached the coast of Senegambia, where they founded colonies. The connexion between the Mediterranean and the Atlantic Ocean was exclusively in their hands. For the maintenance of their supremacy, and for the completion of their mercantile empire, the possession of Sicily, disputed by the Greeks and especially by the Syracusans, was all-important. In order to understand the general position of the world at this epoch it is indispensable that we should take a glance at any rate at the leading events of this struggle.

If the Athenians had succeeded in their attack on Syracuse, the Carthaginians would hardly have been able to maintain their footing on the island. The disastrous issue of that enterprise not only freed them from their danger, but turned out to their advantage. The tribes whom the Athenians had summoned to their aid were for some time longer most useful to the Carthaginians. Other levies, less efficient, but still more numerous, were collected in Libya, Spain, and Italy by Hannibal, grandson of that Hamilcar who had fallen at Himera, and carried across by him in the year 410 to Sicily. At the spot where he first landed, Lilybaeum, afterwards one of the chief arsenals of the Carthaginians, was built. He took Selinus, in spite of a strenuous resistance, which continued even after a breach had been made in the walls, and overcame the people of Himera. He brought the prisoners, 3,000 in number, to the spot where his grandfather had fallen, and there slew them all as a horrible sacrifice to the hero’s shade.

Under pressure of the terror inspired by this event the Greek population showed nothing but weakness. In Hermo- crates, indeed, Syracuse possessed a man who might have been able to check the progress of the Carthaginians. He had distinguished himself above all others in the struggle with Athens, and had afterwards aided the Lakedasmonians on the coast of Asia Minor. Thukydides says of him that in skill and courage he had no superior. But it was often the case in these republics that civil strife caused the banishment of their best citizens, and Hermocrates was exiled from Syracuse. For a time he carried on war in Sicily on his own account. He partially restored Selinus, and made several not unsuccessful forays into Carthaginian territory. These feats gained him universal recognition from all but his political enemies. The latter had no intention of recalling him, and when he attempted, with the help of his partisans, to force his way into the city, he was struck down and killed in the market-place (408-7 B.C.). The violence of party feeling in this case, as in others, stifled all respect for personal merit, however great.

Soon after these events the Carthaginians appeared again in Sicily. Agrigentum, the second city of the island, fell into their hands after a siege of seven months (November, 406 B.C.). The very size of the city and the number of its inhabitants facilitated its reduction by famine. This event inspired universal terror among the Sicilian Greeks. They feared that it would be impossible for them to hold out against the superior numbers of the Carthaginians, and many fled with their wives and children into Italy. They felt no further confidence in Syracuse, for they argued that, if the Syracusan generals had wished to do so, they might have saved Agrigentum. It was even supposed that the latter were inclined to favour the Carthaginians, and perhaps were bribed by them. In Syracuse itself the panic caused by the progress of the Carthaginians brought about a change of constitution, and placed the government in the hands of a tyrant. The people of Agrigentum urged their complaint against the Syracusan generals for some time in vain, for the reputation and political influence of the latter were so great that no one dared to incur their enmity. At length, however, one of the old companions of Hermocrates, named Dionysius, a man of humble birth, ventured to give expression to public opinion. In his attempts he had the support of the' historian Philistus, a wealthy citizen of good family, who promised to help him with money if his enterprise miscarried. It was, however, completely successful, for the people of Syracuse were convinced of the truth of the charges, and were fully awake to the importance of the crisis. The result was that the generals were deprived of their office, and Dionysius with certain others put in their place. After a short time, and without much trouble, Dionysius got the supreme power into his hands.

At first, however, no alteration took place in the general position of affairs. On the contrary, Dionysius considered it desirable, for the sake of his own reputation in the city, to be recognised by the Carthaginians. He therefore concluded a peace, by which the latter were allowed to retain Himera, Selinus, and Agrigentum. It was also provided that the mutual independence of all the Greeks who were not subject to the Carthaginians should be maintained, a proceeding which involved a complete disruption of the Grecian power. In Dionysius the Elder we find a character compounded of decision, cunning, and violence, and endowed with a vigour and activity which enabled him to maintain his position in the stormy ferment of a democratic community. If we may believe Aristotle, Dionysius, like Peisistratus before him, raised himself to power by arousing in the popular mind a fear of the aristocracy. Real virtue, which is transparent in its nature, is not to be looked for in such a man. Philistus, who probably during the critical period of his life helped him with good counsel, was afterwards ill-treated by him, but, nevertheless, Dionysius has received more justice at the hands of Philistus than from any other historian.

Dionysius, as soon as he felt his power in some degree established, ventured to renew the war with Carthage. His armaments were considerable, but Syracuse could not, unaided, measure swords with Carthage. Himilco, who belonged to the same family as Hannibal,¹ took the field against Dionysius with a force undoubtedly far superior to that of the Carthaginians, even if we refuse credit to the statement of Timaeus that his army numbered 400,000 men. Dionysius did not venture to fight a pitched battle in the Carthaginian territory, where he had made great progress before Himilco appeared. He retreated to his capital, where he was soon exposed to a combined attack by land and sea on the part of his successful and vindictive enemy. The temple of Demeter, one of the chief sanctuaries of that goddess, was plundered, and the suburb of Achradina was taken. The besiegers made very serious progress, and the enemies of Dionysius within the town began to stir. A great disaster appeared imminent, but, as had been the case in the Athenian expedition, the Syracusans were saved by the situation of their city and by a climate fatal to all but natives of the place. The temperature, varying between frost at night and intolerable heat by day, combined with the exhalations of the marshy neighbourhood to produce an infectious pestilence in the Carthaginian army. The plague ■—for such it was—made such ravages that Himilco was forced to raise the siege (396 B.C.). Dionysius, however, refused to allow the Carthaginians to retire unmolested until they had paid him a considerable sum of money. The people of Carthage had already heard of the disaster, and on Himilco’s return thronged the quays in a state of painful expectation. Loud lamentations broke forth when the few survivors disembarked, last of all the commander himself, without his arms and in slave’s attire. The first words he uttered were those of regret that he had not himself perished. Loudly lamenting his misfortune, and attended by a vast crowd, he passed through the city to his own house. There he dismissed his attendants, and shutting the door upon the multitude, without even bidding his son farewell, he put an end to his life. In consequence of this disaster the Carthaginians gave up Tauromenium and withdrew within the frontier of the Haly- cus. Although they were still powerful, Syracuse maintained her independence and greatness: and we cannot but credit Dionysius the Elder with making active use of his power. He defeated the Illyrian and Sardinian pirates, as well as the Italian Greeks, and reigned with brilliant success until his death in the year 367.

His son was not capable of carrying on his system of government, and civil disputes soon broke out in Syracuse. Dion, a near relation of Dionysius, the head of the aristocratic party, and an intimate friend of Plato, engaged in conflict with the democrats. In consequence of these troubles the Carthaginians became so powerful that the Syracusans, under the combined pressure of civil and foreign war, at last demanded aid of their mother city, Corinth. Help was brought to them by Timoleon, a strong supporter of democratic principles, and at the same time a commander of the first rank. He belonged to the school of Iphicrates and Chabrias, and was completely master of the military science which the Greeks had brought to such perfection, and which was apparent in the mercenary armies of the day. He came to the aid of the Syracusans with a force of 12,000 men, and fought a battle on the Crimissus, in which he drove an army of 70,000 Carthaginians from the field (June 339 B.C.). Two years later Timoleon died.

It was always the Greek democracy which, first of all under the tyrants, and then under the tyrannicides, of whom Timoleon himself was one, defended the independence of Sicily against Carthage. A striking episode in universal history is formed by the conflict between these two communities, composed of elements so essentially diverse and so diametrically opposed to one another—on the one hand Syracuse, the outpost of Hellenic culture in the West, a centre of intellectual, political, and commercial activity, yet maintaining the most intimate connection with the mother country ; and on the other Carthage, the outpost of Phoenician power, the mistress of the seas, isolated, independent, and mysterious.

Carthage was affected but not injured by the result of the Persian wars. The fall of Tyre put an end to the political, and probably to the commercial, relations between Phoenicia and its greatest colony. Carthage stood in direct opposition to Alexander, who was believed, as we have already said, to have contemplated an attack upon that city.¹ It is impossible to say, if such an attack had been undertaken, what would have been its result. The immediate successors of Alexander were too fully occupied in conflicts with each other to turn their eyes towards the west. But just at this time it happened that a power arose in Syracuse which renewed the war with Carthage in such a way as to threaten that city with sudden destruction.

Among those who, through Timoleon’s influence, had obtained the franchise in Syracuse was an inhabitant of Rhegium. His son, named Agathocles, at first followed his father’s trade of potter—that is, he probably made the ornamental vases and urns which at that time were so much in request for sepulchral use in Italy and Etruria. Afterwards he became a soldier and rose to a high position. He was a young man in whom extraordinary physical strength was combined with beauty and the most resolute audacity with cunning and caution.¹ By his marriage with the widow of a rich and distinguished citizen he connected himself with the aristocracy, who, however, showed him little favour on that account. Sent as commander of a body of troops to the aid of Croton, he established a legitimate claim to the prize of valour, but this prize was refused him by the oligarchs of Syracuse. Nothing could have more deeply wounded the susceptibilities of an ambitious young man than the refusal, on party grounds, of an honour so eagerly coveted.

In the civil quarrels which disturbed Syracuse Agathocles now took the side of the people. He was banished, recalled, then banished a second time. The aristocrats persecuted him, the people were unable to protect him, and on one occasion it was only through the precaution of putting another man into his clothes that he escaped death. The unfortunate person so disguised was actually slain. Outside the' walls of the city he attained an independent position. Southern Italy and Sicily were still a prey to all the misery of civil and foreign war, which in Greece itself had been happily diminished by the League of the Public Peace, established by King Philip. Numerous exiles were everywhere to be found, who were engaged in unceasing feud with the citics whencc they had been expelled. At the head of such a body of exiles Agathocles made his reputation. After having been driven out of Syracuse for the second time he collected round him a vagabond troop of outlaws, who regarded him as their chief_k invested him with absolute power, and made themselves very troublesome to the Syracusans.

So far we can follow the biographical accounts which Diodorus has incorporated in his work. According to him the later events in the life of Agathocles, like the earlier, arc to be traced almost exclusively to party struggles in the city, but in another account taken from Trogus Pompcius by Justin, the relations between Agathocles and Carthage, doubtless the most important in which lie was involved, are placed in the foreground. According tojustin, the Syracusans, who at that time were on friendly terms with the Carthaginians, called in the latter to help them against Agathocles, and one of the commanders of the Carthaginian army, named Hamilcar, appeared to give them the assistance they required. But the Carthaginians were never honest friends of Syracuse. Hamilcar, it is true, brought about a reconciliation between Aga- thoclcs and the civic authorities, which resulted in the admission of the former, with his followers, into the city, but he was already a condottierc on his own account, and the entry of his troops could not but bring disturbances in its train.

These disturbances we find more fully described in Diodorus than in Justin, and the difference between the two authors is very instructive. According to Diodorus the exiles were re-admitted after taking an oath to do nothin}; against the democratic constitution of the city : the dispute therefore was in his view purely an internal one. Justin, on the other hand, tells us that Hamilcar supported Agathocles with 5,000 of his savage African troops, on the latter taking an oath that he would forthwith recognise the supremacy ol Carthage.¹ In both authors Agathocles takes an oath, but in each case it is an oath of which the other author knows nothing. One is inclined to regard both obligations as having been actually entered into, but to suppose that neither the Carthaginians nor the Syracusans knew what had been promised to the other side. Both, as it turned out, were deceived.

In Syracuse there ensued one of the most horrible deeds of violence which ever took place in an Hellenic city—a two days’ massacre, in which both the aristocracy and the most prominent members of the popular party suffered alike. The number of those slain was reckoned at 4,000, while 6,000 more were forced to seek safety in flight, after which Aga- thocles seized on the supreme power, and established what may fairly be called a military tyranny. It is hardly intelligible that Hamilcar should have been an idle spectator of these horrors if he had not had an understanding with Agathocles, and had not expected that the latter would show himself submissive to Carthage. But Agathocles, once in power, began to aim at re-establishing the independence of the neighbouring towns, and showed no scruple in treating the allies of Carthage as enemies. The latter naturally turned to Carthage, and reproached Hamilcar with having allowed a man to come to power in Syracuse from whom nothing could be expected but constantly increasing hostility towards Carthage. Undoubtedly Hamilcar had acted in the matter without instructions, and such action was always regarded in Carthage as an unpardonable crime if it did not turn out to be successful. The Carthaginian government, by a secret vote, and without allowing Hamilcar a chance of clearing himself, condemned him to death. It was regarded at the time as a special grace of the gods that he died by a natural death before the sentence could be put into execution. A serious war was now more than ever inevitable.

The army which the Carthaginians brought into the field under a second Hamilcar, the son of Gisgo, was far superior in numbers to that of Syracuse. Agathocles, who was by no means a match for the enemy, met with a defeat at Himera (310 B.C.), due principally to the slingers from the Balearic Islands, who hurled large stones with an unerring skill which they had acquired from early practice. Without pausing to lay siege to Gela, which Agathocles had brought under his control by means as cruel as those >which he had employed in his own city, Hamilcar at once laid siege to Syracuse. Thereupon the whole island rose against Agathocles. The inhabitants of Camarina and Leontini, of Catana, Tauromenium, and Messana all joined the Carthaginians. The destruction of Agathocles, hard pressed by superior forces both by land and sea, and unprepared for defence, seemed imminent. In this crisis he hit upon a most audacious but ingenious plan, which, especially owing to subsequent events, made his name famous in later times. He knew that the power of Carthage in Africa itself was insecure, and determined, though actually besieged at the time, to defend himself from the Carthaginian invasion by a counterattack upon Africa. For this purpose he collected a band of well-armed and devoted followers. He concealed his ultimate intentions, and bade all stay behind who would not follow his fortunes with implicit trust. Out of those who gave in their unconditional adhesion he formed a compact body, in which he even included some slaves of soldierly character, whom he bound by an oath to his person. Attended by more good fortune than he could have expected, he crossed over to Africa.¹ His followers were without exception thorough soldiers, men for whom his name had overpowering attraction. The object of his enterprise was, first of all, to conquer the Libyan territory, and then to make an attack upon Carthage itself. The prospect which Agaihocles laid before his army was, that if they took Carthage they would be masters both of Libya and Sicily, but he made his attempt rather as a condottiere on his own account than in the name of Syracuse. The ships which he brought over with him he set on fire, as a sacrifice, he said, to the Sicilian goddesses Demeter and Persephone.

His enterprise was an act of despair: both he and his troops were as good as lost if they did not succeed entirely, but the consciousness of this gave them double energy. They completely defeated a Carthaginian army, whose commanders, it appears, had fallen out with .each other. Thereupon a number of cities, the walls of which the Carthaginians had demolished, fell into the hands of Agathocles. The native population rose in his favour and a Libyan prince came over to his side. He took possession of Utica. Lastly, while the Carthaginians were thus hard pressed by a Sicilian army, trained in the Greek school of military tactics, another enemy from the side of Kyrene made his appearance in the field.

Kyrene had been occupied by a Makedonian named Ophelias, a trusty follower of Alexander the Great, in the name and with the support of Ptolemseus the son of Lagus. The city had thus been brought into contact with the Graeco-Makedonian kingdoms. Ophelias had since then made himself independent, and now gave free play to his ambition. He contemplated nothing less than the conquest of Africa, and formed an alliance with Agathocles. The latter declared that he would content himself with Sicily, and willingly leave Africa to Ophelias, on the understanding that they should join their forces to overpower Carthage. It is evident that, if the Macedonian troops who were at the disposal of Ophelias, and who might have been strengthened by reinforcements from Athens, had marched upon Carthage in combination with the troops of Agathocles, that great metropolis would have been in the most serious danger. The invading army had even reason to expect that a Carthaginian general named Bomilcar would make common cause with them.

It was thus, then, the military power of Hellas with which Carthage had to struggle for its existence. The intention which had been ascribed to Alexander appeared likely, some thirteen years after his death, to be carried into effect. The struggle between the Greek and Oriental divinities, which had been fought out by Alexander at Tyre, was transferred to a new battle-field, and the dominion of the Graeco-Makedonian element, lately founded on so firm a basis in the East, now threatened to extend itself to the West. Efforts, to which we shall have occasion to return, had already been made from the side of Epeirus to establish a Greek supremacy in Italy. It is clear, then, that the enterprise of Agathocles must not be regarded as an isolated adventure, for it is in reality one more event in the history of the Greek genius striving for the empire of the world.

In the face of this danger the old religious fanaticism of the Semitic race awoke in the people of Carthage to its full strength. They called to mind all the faults which they had ever committed against their religion—the tithes which they had not fully paid to Hercules-Melkart in Tyre, but above all the fact that they had omitted to carry out their horrible custom of offering their first-born to Cronus-Moloch. Children had been imported from abroad, secretly brought up, and offered instead of their own. For these religious transgressions and shortcomings they believed themselves now to be suffering punishment. They determined to renew the sacrifice of their children according to the established ritual, by which they were laid in the hands of the huge Cronus, open and pointed towards a furnace at his feet, into which the victims fell. Two hundred children from the principal families of Carthage were selected and publicly offered up. Many who found themselves suspected of similar guilt gave themselves or their children up to sacrifice. The ships were draped in black. Every general who made a mistake, or gave any ground for suspicion, was punished with death. Carthage, in the depth of her gloom, collected all her energies to repel the attack with which she was threatened in Libya.

On the other side the Greeks were as little able as ever to combine in a great undertaking without some dominant authority to lead them. Ophelias, who brought with him an army of 20,000 men, was treacherously put to death by Agathocles. The Kyrenian army, however, joined the Sicilian, so that for the great struggle with Carthage some advantage seemed to be gained by this act of treachery. But Agathocles could not reckon upon the loyalty of his troops, even of those he had brought with him, much less on that of the Kyrenian forces whp had gone over to his side. There was, as we have already mentioned, a partisan in Carthage who had shown an inclination to side with him, but at the last moment he was deterred by the disturbances which broke out among the Grecian soldiery.

Agathocles himself was called away from Africa by the troubles which broke out in Sicily during his absence. He entrusted his army in Africa to the command of his son Archagathus. In consequence of the fame which preceded him he again won the upper hand in Sicily, but the Carthaginians made effective resistance in their own country, and brought three considerable armies into the field. On the other hand there arose a misunderstanding between Archagathus and his troops on the subject of their pay, which the son said he was obliged to withhold until his father’s return. When Agathocles returned to Africa, not long after this, he told his troops that their relation towards him was not precisely that of mercenary soldiers, but rather that the fruits of victory were to be divided between them : they might, he said, find their pay in Carthage. A coup de main might possibly have been successful if undertaken immediately, but Agathocles was not in a position to carry on a lengthened campaign. He succeeded in persuading his troops to march a second time against the enemy; but when fortune turned against him a mutiny broke out in his camp, which compelled him to seek safety from his own troops in flight. His son was slain by the mutineers. Agathocles himself made good his escape,¹ but his whole enterprise disappeared in smoke, like a meteor which flashes across the sky. It has no real importance except from the fact that it disclosed the method by which the power of Carthage was fated eventually to be destroyed.

In Sicily, however, it enabled Agathocles to establish himself more firmly. Like the Makedonian generals, he assumed the title of king. We have it on the common authority of antiquity, and we are expressly assured by Polybius, that after having in the first instance established his power with the greatest cruelty, he wielded it in the most temperate fashion. But there could be no idea of repeating his enterprise in Africa. Agathocles found himself compelled to conclude a peace with the Carthaginians, by which they recovered the whole dominion which they had formerly possessed in Sicily.

This success was followed by a fresh development of the Punic empire. While in the East the genius and the power of the Greeks preserved their supremacy, the Carthaginian power in the West maintained itself with undiminished lustre. Between these two elements, the Greek and the Carthaginian, the Western world would have remained divided, but for the appearance in their midst of a new power, that of Rome.