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HELLENIC
CIVILIZATION
4
HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
An Historical Survey
BY MAURICE CROISET
Administrator of the College of France
TRANSLATED BY PAUL B. THOMAS
WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY
EDWARD DELAVAN PERRY
New York ALFRED: A+: KNOPF
er COPYRIGHT, 1925, BY ALFRED
“MANUFACTURED IN THE U
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION
PART I—ORIGINS AND BEGINNINGS
CHAPTER I Origin anp Earty Procress or HEL-
LENIC CIVILIZATION
CHAPTER II Tue RE ticion oF THE GREEKS
CHAPTER III Tue Testimony or Eric Portry
CHAPTER IV Intenuectuat anp Morat Deve.or-
MENT IN THE SEVENTH AND SIXTH
CENTURIES BEFORE CHRIST
PART II—THE FIFTH CENTURY
CHAPTER JI = Pourticayt Lire In THE FirtH CEN-
TURY
CHAPTER II Curr anv THE Great RELIGIOUS
MANIFESTATIONS IN THE FIFTH
CENTURY
CHAPTER III Society anp Customs
CHAPTER IV Invetzectuat Activiry anp Works
oF ART
PART III—THE FOURTH CENTURY
CHAPTER I Pourrtics, Bustness, Customs
CHAPTER II Oratory, pape History
vii
03
52
77
93
ris
123
159
167
vi CONTENTS
CHAPTER III Puitosopuy anp ScIENcE 178
CHAPTER IV ‘Tue Arts 193
PART IV—THE LAST PERIODS OF HELLENIC
CIVILIZATION
CHAPTER I Tue Hewrenistic Krnepoms 203
CHAPTER II Hexzenistic Lrrerature 210
CHAPTER III Puttosopuy ann Science 223
CHAPTER IV Greek Civinization UNDER THE
EMPIRE 242
CHAPTER V_ Science anp PuILosopHy 254
CHAPTER VI Tue Enp or HE.LLENIsM 273
CHAPTER VII Conc.uusion 293
INTRODUCTION
by
Edward Delavan Perry
An important indication both of the spread of interest
in the civilization of Ancient Greece as a whole and of
the gradual change in the points of view from which it is
studied may be found in the publication, during recent
years, of many works, whether as parts of more or less
extensive series or as single issues, presenting one or more
aspects of that marvelous achievement of human genius.
The materials for our knowledge and comprehension of
that period of the world’s history are rapidly increasing.
New evidence—archeological, inscriptional, linguistic,
literary—is constantly being added, often modifying and
sometimes completely overthrowing conceptions hitherto
fondly held. Perhaps about no people of history have
sweeping generalizations been so readily made and so
slavishly adopted as about the Greeks of antiquity.
To make the more significant portions of such newly
acquired information accessible to that part of the “read-
ing public” which cares for these things, but has neither
time nor inclination to enter upon the exacting yet nec-
essary professional study in these fields, is to perform a
most useful service. Certainly not less important is the
presentation, in clear, precise, and agreeable form, of the
most characteristic features of the Greek civilization, of
the main lines of its development through the centuries
that lie more or less open to our observation, and the
vii
Vili INTRODUCTION
interpretation to modern minds of ideas and customs in
many respects so different from our own, yet forming so
largely the basis on which our own civilization rests.
With every year it becomes more evident that the
Greeks of historical times were a people (or rather a
group of peoples) of extraordinary diversity of origin,
religious belief and practice, and customs, never for long
held together closely in any political union, constantly
engaging in war with each other, living under many dif-
ferent forms of political organization which sometimes
changed with great rapidity, restless, only too often fickle
and treacherous, in some respects—particularly in reli-
gious ritual—deeply conservative, in others constantly
eager for some new thing, commercially enterprising,
highly emotional yet endowed with a sense of proportion
which generally saved them from extravagance of taste
though less often from extravagance of conduct; in short,
a people whom it would be excessively difficult to describe
adequately in any brief formulas. In dealing with such
a subject the danger of failing to see the trees of which
the wood is made up is not less that that of failing to
see the wood for the trees. And not only were there
striking differences of character, customs, political and
social organization, among Greek communities at any;
given period, but almost any one community varied in
such respects from one age to another; while of course the
rate of change would itself show many variations. The
evidence at our disposal for acquainting ourselves with
this ancient Greek civilization is singularly uneven for
different regions and periods. For example, the huge
losses sustained by the mass of Greek literature in the
process of transmission from one generation to another
have left great gaps in the writings of some of the most
famous and important among Greek historians, whose
INTRODUCTION ix
accounts at first hand we should so highly prize and so
gladly utilize. It happens that for Athens we are vastly
better informed than for any other Greek state, and
vastly better today than thirty-five years ago, owing to
the discovery, in 1891, of a manuscript of Aristotle’s
Constitution of Athens—the only one remaining of more
than one hundred and fifty similar descriptions of Greek!
political organizations.
Very few scholars unite with the great learning by
which the almost endless details are mastered that pro-
found comprehension of the relation of parts to the
whole which alone makes possible an accurate and ade-
quate generalization. Still fewer add to these the power
of concise, clear, and interesting description and exposi-
tion. The primacy of the French in these respects will
hardly be seriously questioned even by the most patriotic
scholars of other countries—just as there are many
points in which the French language, with its highly
developed and harmonious yet forcible prose style, its
delicate and unfailing sense of proportion, its avoidance
of involved constructions and exaggerations of every
kind, is peculiarly well adapted to the exposition of
Greek themes. ‘This happy combination is to be seen, for
example, in the famous work of Fustel de Coulanges,
La cité antique, originally published in 1864, which after
sixty years still remains a standard and invaluable help
and guide. In this little book the paramount importance
of a thorough study of ancient religion for the compre-
hension of the ancient state was—perhaps for the first
time—strongly emphasized.
A similar insistence upon the necessity of understand-
ing ancient religion if we would understand ancient civi-
lization is a marked feature of the admirable little book,
a model of condensed, clear, and accurate statement,
x INTRODUCTION
which M. Maurice Croiset of the Collége de France has
published in the Collection Payot under the title La
Cicilisatiom hellénique. Not less characteristic of the
book is the adherence to the historical method of presen-
tation, in which the gradual development of the more
important features of Greek civilization is traced.
While many valuable publications in the field of classical,
particularly of Greek, investigation have given him a
very high place among scholars, he is best known outside
of France as the collaborator with M. Alfred Croiset
—par nobile fratrum—in the monumental Histoire de la
littérature grecque. Alfred Croiset is no longer living;
but Maurice, in spite of his seventy-eight years, is still
pursuing his life-work.
Mr. Thomas has done competently a most useful task
in making the aperew accessible, in an excellent transla-
tion, to readers of English to whom French is still a
strange tongue.
PART I
ORIGINS AND BEGINNINGS
CHAPTER I
ORIGIN AND EARLY PROGRESS OF
HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
Antecedents. Minoan and Mycenaean Civilizations.—
Hellenic civilization, properly so called, begins for us
about the eighth century s.c. But this apparent be-
ginning was in reality only a continuation, or rather, a
revival,
Archeological discoveries, especially in the last thirty
years, have in fact shown us that a civilization truly
worthy of the name had developed in the islands of the
féigean Sea, later in Crete, and finally in certain parts of
the Greek mainland, during the second millenium B.c.,
and that it was particularly brilliant toward the middle
of that period. ‘The monuments of Crete—notably the
palaces of Cnossus, Phestus, and Hagia Triada—altho
now reduced to ruins, bear irrefutable witness to it.
Moreover, the character of the monuments seems to re-
veal an epoch of comparative peace, favorable to the
advancement of the arts, to the increase of wealth, and
to a quiet and well-organized life. The more or less
legendary name of King Minos, represented as a peace-
maker and law-giver inspired by the gods, may well remain
associated with that succession of remote centuries, of
which we know scarcely anything save what is attested
by these monuments and their ornamentation.
Other no less imposing ruins, at Mycene, at Tiryns,
at Orchomenus, and at other places, give evidence that
3
4 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
this civilization had penetrated to many points on the
Greek mainland. They lead us to believe that for many
centuries powerful chiefs and warriors lived there. ‘These
cities are in reality fortresses. ‘They seem to preserve
the memory of a sort of military feudalism. Protected
by formidable ramparts, and located along the natural
trade-routes, they had to be constructed so as at once to
guard them and to exploit them. The riches which they
contained were well defended, because it was felt, appar-
ently, that they were in danger. Evidently redoubtable
princes lived behind these massive walls; for them they
were citadels, and for their subjects they were places of
refuge in case of need. And yet in this state of hostile de-
fiance among neighbors art was relished and cultivated.
Today, beneath the crumbled palaces, the spade of the ex-
cavator discovers relics of brilliant decorations, fragments
of columns, painted friezes, and sculptures. In imagina-
tion, guided by the remains unearthed, one may restore
great banquet halls, royal apartments, and courts of regal
splendor. Furthermore, imposing sepulchers bear wit-
ness to the pride of princes who sought, even in death, to
assert their haughty superiority. This civilization may
be called Mycenexan, since the ruins of Mycene today
represent to us the highest development of culture in that
period.
Period of Invasions and Migrations.—On the other
hand, the epic poets tell us of a confederation of kings
called Acheans; and the historians report that toward
the end of the second millennium sz. c. great movements of
populations took place in Greece and completely over-
turned the previous civilization. They refer especially
to a conquest of the Peloponnesus by Dorian tribes de-
scending from the region of the Pindus. It is probable
that there was in fact a long series of migrations extend- —
a
ORIGIN AND EARLY PROGRESS 5
ing over a period of several centuries—a period of in-
cessant conflicts, of violent occupations leading to the
forcible expulsion of ancient royal families and of a part
of their subjects, and to the subjugation of others,
sometimes even to the displacement of entire populations,
which had to go forth in search of new settlements.
This, we are told, was the time of the establishment of
numerous Greek tribes in Asia Minor, along the eastern
coast of the A’gean Sea. Gathering there in units, ac-
cording to ties of kinship, they gradually formed from
north to south along this Asiatic coast the groups called
Molians, Ionians, and Dorians, while on the Greek main-
land were founded those states whose later glory now
fills the pages of history. These several centuries of
continuous conflict and disturbance might well be com-
pared to a sort of Middle Age, in which the previous
civilization declined, but from which, toward the eighth
century B.c., the Greece of history emerged.
Further on, in speaking of epic poetry, we shall see
what progress the Greeks of Asia, the Aolians and es-
pecially the Ionians, made at that time in advance of
their brothers in Greece proper. For in leaving their
native soil these vigorous exiles, who refused to submit
to the law of their conquerors, carried precious traditions
away with them. It was natural that civilization, tem-
porarily endangered, revived first among them. Hence
it was in their cities—at Ephesus, at Smyrna, at Miletus,
at Colophon, in the islands of Chios and Lesbos—that
the arts, poetry, a certain elegance of life, a sense of
beauty, once more began to manifest themselves; and
from there this brilliant culture gradually extended its
beneficent influence to the Greek mainland. But the
Greek cities of Asia were unfortunate enough to witness
the rise of two dangerously powerful empires near at
6 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
hand: first that of the Lydians, later that of the Persians.
Thus it is not in this Asiatic Greece, fascinating as it
is, that we can best study the formation of the Hellenic
states; let us rather devote our attention to those which
survived and endured—the celebrated states of Greece
proper.
Formation of the Hellenic States——The term “states,”
of which one is obliged to make use, is poorly suited, as
a matter of fact, to those first attempts at political
formation. Rather were they groups of clans or tribes,
whose character was in most cases heterogeneous; but
usually it came about that one group predominated over
the others and thus gave its name to the region occupied.
However, from the time indicated above, a definite ten-
dency toward organization is to be observed in the
majority of these communities.
At the time of the conquests and migrations just re-
ferred to, it is evident that the peoples who went forth in
search of new settlements had to obey orders. But by no
means were they mere roving hordes temporarily banded
together; on the contrary, they represented a certain
inherent system of orderly arrangement associated with
them from time immemorial. They were composed of
families, phratries, and tribes, each associated in a cult
of its own and in the honor paid to a common ancestor,
real or fictitious, whose name it bore; and from the mo-
ment when they settled down to live anywhere, these
traditional groupings constituted the framework of their
normal social life. Each family, in the large sense of
the word, had its chief, or, as the head of a family was
called in the phrase of that time, its king. It had also
its own land and its own jurisdiction; and it supplied
all, or very nearly all, its own needs. These family
kings were more or less subordinate to superior kings,
ORIGIN AND EARLY PROGRESS 7
richer and more powerful, whose council they formed;
and the superior kings, in turn, were able to recognize
at least in certain cases, and especially in time of war, a
supreme king. Here, then, we find the rough outline of
an organization at once aristocratic and monarchic, altho
we should not, of course, conceive such a society as sub-
ject to clearly defined hierarchical rules.
The geographic conformation of Greece, naturally di-
vided into cantons, lent itself poorly to the political fu-
sion of these incipient states; moreover, it was not even
favorable to a close rapprochement of their own com-
ponent elements. The fact is that none of the groups
thus outlined was ever sufficiently powerful, for any
considerable length of time, to dominate all the others,
or even to attempt to do so. Consequently, they re-
mained separate and independent. Many of them never
achieved any real unification; only a few were successful
in so doing, and it is among these few that we may best
study the formation of the state in the proper sense of the
term.
For the sake of simplicity, let us consider here only
Sparta and Athens; and without entering into the details
of their history—which the limits of this work do not
permit—let us state the essential facts in a very few
words. |
Sparta, born of the Dorian conquest, had to organize
its forces with a view to maintaining its domination over
a conquered population. There, accordingly, the muili-
tary spirit was from the very beginning, and always,
associated with the oligarchical spirit. Not only did
Sparta have to exclude from the government every ele-
ment which did not belong to the conquering race, but
it also felt the need of imposing upon itself a rigid dis-
cipline capable of maintaining the closest coherence
8 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
among its citizens. It wanted them all to be as much
alike as possible. Thus it was led to assume the character
of a sort of military camp, under the authority of its two
kings, its Council of Elders, and later its ephors, with a
rigorous code of laws resolutely hostile to every innova-
tion and consequently to every form of individual liberty.
Everything was subordinated to the public interest. The
children were given a severe, almost cruel, training; the
life of the citizen was subject to rules and restrictions of
every kind. Accustomed to obedience from infancy, the
Spartan was to have no other desires than those of mili-
tary honor and patriotism. In this way Sparta suc-
ceeded in developing among its people an extraordinary
moral force, and this, together with its remarkable
military efficiency, for a long time rendered it superior to
the majority of the other Greek states. Consequently,
it has left the world shining examples of those virtues
which it practised. On the other hand, in voluntarily
condemning itself to isolation and immobility, it lessened
its own share in the general development of Greek civi-
lization.
The history of Athens is quite different. Whatever
were the origins of the Athenian people, every marked evi-
dence of an ethnic diversity in them was early effaced.
The sense of racial unity made way for the sense of
human and social equality. The little patriarchal king-
doms were united in Athens, sooner than anywhere else,
in an association at once religious and political, the center
of which was the Acropolis, the principal seat of the cult
of Athena. Ruled at first by kings, the city was after-
wards governed by hereditary (later, by elected) magis-
trates called archons, who were the leaders of a landed
aristocracy. But the growing importance of the small
landowners, favored by the nature of the country, the
ORIGIN AND EARLY PROGRESS 9
laborious energy of the peasants, and the demands of a
rapidly increasing urban population, combined to develop
a democratic spirit in the masses. There were conflicts,
civil wars, and adjustments. At the beginning of the
sixth century B.c. the laws of Solon, in abolishing the
burdens of land servitude, marked an important step in
the progress of the people. For a time they even estab-
lished a certain social equilibrium. They did not, how-
ever succeed in placing liberty on a solid foundation; it
remained for the tyranny of Pisistratus and his sons to
prepare the ground for that. By promoting agriculture
and commerce, as also by encouraging intercourse with
foreign countries, this tyranny awakened in the people
a clearer consciousness of their power. The result was
that in 510 3B. c. they drove out the tyrants, and three
years later they laid the solid foundations of the democ-
racy by the establishment of the constitution of Clisthenes
(507 3. c.). In the first half of the fifth century this
movement achieved its final consummation when, after the
Persian Wars, the lower classes, inspired by victory and
by the memory of their sacrifices, swept aside everything
which still stood in the way of their ambitions.
We shall observe this institution in operation in the
following period. What it is necessary to emphasize here
is the fact that Athens, from the end of the sixth century
B. c., had created a form of political organization founded
upon the equality of its citizens before the law. Few
facts have been of greater importance than this in the
general history of civilization.
The City-state and the Citizens.—In almost every part
of Greece, broadly speaking, there was formed what was
called the “city”? (polis), and what we call the “state.”
Of what, precisely, did it consist? This ‘“‘city-state” was
a collectivity having a genuine moral unity and tending
10 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
to establish an effective solidarity. All its members
were bound together, not only by common interests, but
also by clearly defined legal relations—relations based on
rights and duties inscribed in a constitution. Neither
these rights nor these duties were everywhere the same; but
everywhere the citizen was one to whom the city-state at-
tributed certain positive rights that were born with him,
and, on the other hand, one whom it looked upon as
bound to the performance of certain precise obligations
in the common interest. ‘The most important of these
rights and the foremost of these obligations was to par-
ticipate personally in the government. In that respect
there was an absolute distinction between the citizen and
the foreigner, even in places where foreigners were
favorably received, as at Athens; and the distinction was
even more radical between the citizen and the slave, who
had no rights at all. If man, as Aristotle was to say
later on, can fully realize himself only in the highest of
associations, which is the city-state, then the Greek citizen
alone, as distinguished from the barbarian, was com-
pletely a man. To the title of citizen, therefore, was
attached a special dignity, and he who bore that title
was proudly conscious of the fact.
The Law.—From this conception of the city-state there
naturally developed a corresponding conception of law.
It was in the Greek city-state, indeed, that law was first
conceived from the standpoint of the high moral signifi-
cance which attaches to the word. Neither in theocracies,
nor in despotic monarchies, nor among semi-civilized
peoples, could there be law in the proper sense of the
term. For theocracies knew only the commandments of
God as expressed in the imperious dictates of a sacer-
dotal body, or of a superior man, recognized as an inter-
preter of the divine will; despotic monarchies had no
ORIGIN AND EARLY PROGRESS 11
rules other than the orders of the sovereign; semi-
civilized peoples conformed to family customs and to the
wishes of their tribal elders and chiefs. In the Greek
city-state the law was essentially a product of the in-
tellect, conceived with reference to the common interest.
The period with which we are concerned witnessed the
origin of the principal bodies of Greek law, some of them
historic, others semi-legendary—those of Lycurgus,
Charondas, Zaleucus, Draco, and Solon. These names,
and the traditions to which they are related, teach us a
unique fact: everywhere, at some time, the city-state felt
the need of laying down certain general rules governing
the relations of the citizens among themselves. Intended
to repress acts of violence, to determine due reparations,
and also to fix the obligations of every member of the
community, these laws were adapted to the conditions
and requirements of each individual state. Whether they
are authorized by divine sanction, or whether they lack
such sanction, in the last analysis they always rest upon
the at least tacit accord of the citizens; they represent a
common will, resulting from prevailing social conditions, of
which they are the consecration. Moreover, they are im-
posed less as a heritage of the past than as a guarantee of
the future peace and stability of the city-state. From
this conception sprang the feeling that, if the laws were in
any way to be modified, it was to be done with prudent
discretion—not for light and transient reasons, but only
‘im order to adapt them to the changes which time nec-
essarily brings about in every form of human society.
Their real object was to establish the reign of justice—
a concept of the first importance, which in Greece becomes
more and more closely associated with that of law. For
the Greeks, having no decalog, could seek the formula
of justice only in their legislation. Essentially human,
12 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
this justice written in their laws is derived in the end
from the common agreement of those who are guided by
a sense of moral righteousness. It is true, no doubt, that
the gods also favor it, that they not only regard it with
sympathetic eyes but to a certain extent are even guard-
ians of it; but they are not called upon to formulate
it thru the mouths of their priests. It is determined of
itself by the conditions and requirements of the social
life; 1t is regulated and clarified by every-day experience.
Opposed incessantly by the passions, its very setbacks
serve to show that it can not be dispensed with and help
to emphasize the necessity of fortifying it. Defeated
every day, it is nevertheless victorious in the long, con-
tinous records of public life.
Slavery.—With regard to one essential matter, how-
ever, justice never succeeded in asserting itself.
specialty of embodying practical reflections of this kind
in versified formulas, easy to understand and useful to
retain. ‘These were properly the gnomic poets.
Melic Personal Poetry.—But during the same centuries
another form of lyric poetry was ushered in, similar in
certain respects to the iambic and the elegiac, but dif-
ferent in that it remained inseparable from singing and
from musical accompaniment. Still further removed
from simple discourse, it resembled our songs, admitting,
as they do, of a great variety of strains and sentiments.
It seems to have risen first in Lesbos ; but it spread rapidly
in Ionia and thruout all Greece.
The Lesbian Poets: Alceus and Sappho.—Alceus
of Mytilene and Sappho of Eresus, in other words, both
of them Lesbians, were the promoters of this form to-
ward the end of the seventh and the beginning of the
sixth century. Both made use of the dialect of their
country; they also used analogous if not identical meters,
and short strophes that never varied in one and the same
poem, each consisting of a small number of lines or of
ingeniously grouped members. A very simple air, ac-
companied by the notes of a sort of lyre called the
“barbitos,” was designed to lend to this poetry, now a
delicate charm, now an additional force.
INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL DEVELOPMENT 59
Only fragments of their work have come down to us,
a few rare pieces all the more precious because they help
us to picture the brilliant and tumultuous life of their
city-states, divided, as they were, between pleasure, the
arts, and commerce, and disturbed by civil discords. It
was no doubt for a circle of friends belonging, as he him-
self did, to the oligarchical party of Mytilene, that
Alczeus composed his ‘‘Songs of Love” and his “Songs of
Civil War”; and it was to them that he sang them.
Sometimes he expressed, with as much grace as ardor,
the charm of the ladies whom he loved. Sometimes also,
in the heat of his aristocratic passions, he exhaled his
hatred and contempt for a Melanchrus or a Myrsilus,
leaders of the democratic party and tyrants of the city-
state; and he called his friends to vengeance. His con-
temporary, Sappho, introduces us into a society of young
men and young women who, like herself, seem to have
been devoted to the cult of poetry and of music. It
was in their midst that she poured forth, in her varied
songs, notably in her “epithalamia,” her passionate and
jealous tenderness, all the emotions of her ardent soul,
to which her genius lent an immortal beauty. One may
say that some of the liveliest sentiments of the human
soul have never vibrated more melodiously than on these
two rival lyres. The surviving fragments of their poetry
make it clear to what extent sensibility had become more
delicate, more vibrant, so to speak, in that elegant society,
and what refinement of feeling was already associated
with it. ©
Court Life in the Sixth Century. Anacreon.—But this
was not peculiar to Lesbos. The same tastes prevailed
at the brilliant courts of the tyrants and princes of that
time—with a Polycrates at Samos, with the Aleuade and
the Scopade in Thessaly, and with the sons of Pisistratus
60 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
at Athens. We find proof of this in a few fragments of
the Ionian poet Anacreon of Teos, who, driven from his
country by the Persian conquest, was received as a guest
in one after another of these rich homes. He knew how
to please these great lords by composing songs in praise
of love and wine which he sang at their banquets. Less
fervent than the poets of Lesbos, he seems to have had
a sort of voluptuous grace of his own, a suggestion at
once of piquancy and of tenderness, which still makes
itself felt in the all too few extant fragments of his work.*
(2) cHORAL POETRY
General Character of the Choral Poetry. Extant Frag-
ments.—But this poetry, in a sense private, reserved for
social gatherings, could not suffice for a people whose
public life was becoming more and more important. For
religious worship, for the national and local festivals, for
the celebration of victories won in the games, for every-
thing which called forth strong public feeling, other more
powerful manifestations were necessary. Choral poetry
alone, by the force of its means and the intensity of its
effects, could satisfy this need. Its history, unfor-
tunately, is but little known to us; and whatever its suc-
cess may have been, the works of its most illustrious
representatives in the seventh and sixth centuries have
almost entirely disappeared. Since music and poetry
were indissolubly associated, the progress of musical art
in the following period explains why these compositions
fell out of fashion; and as soon as they ceased to be
sung, there was less concern about preserving them. Let
1It is known that the popularity of his poetry was very great.
The apochryphal collection of poems called “Anacreontics” shows
that this popularity persisted even to the Byzantine period.
INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL DEVELOPMENT 61
us merely note what influence they had upon the develop-
ment of Hellenic civilization.
Choral Poetry at Lacedemon.—The first steps in the
perfection of musical technique brought with them the rise
of choral poetry and carried the latter beyond the period
of its infancy. In the seventh century we see it appear-
ing with conspicuous success at Lacedeamon. No city-
state, in fact, was better predestined for it; for nowhere
else was civic spirit so strong or religious sentiment so
profound. The ancient witnesses tell us of the influence
exerted by the Cretan Thaletas, one of the first masters
of this new art. Among the Spartans, thoroly suffused
with the idea of discipline, there was a sense of order
and harmony which happily entered into the songs of their
choruses, regulated by the notes of the lyre or of the
flute. Terpander was to find a no less favorable recep-
tion, if we judge by one of his fragments which celebrates
Sparta as the city in which military valor and melody,
dear to the Muse, flourished side by side. After him, a
Lydian named Aleman, who once did not hesitate to
place the merit of the citharist on a par with that of the
warrior, enjoyed a still more lasting favor. People of
all ages took part in these musical performances: choruses
of children, choruses of adults, and choruses of old men
sang in response to one another and manifested the con-
currence of the whole city-state in the same sentiments
of honor and patriotism. Even young virgins did not
hold aloof from these festivals; Aleman excelled in com-
posing for them the choral odes called Partheneia. In-
portant fragments of one of his Partheneia still make it
possible for us to feel, in a charming manner, with what
vivacity and freshness he could express their sentiments
and his own.
Expansion of Choral Poetry in the Peloponnesus.—lt
62 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
was not long, naturally, before the example given by
Lacedemon was followed in other Greek city-states, es-
pecially in the Peloponnesus. A contemporary of Alcman,
the Lesbian Arion, of Methymna, made himself famous at
Corinth, whither he was summoned by the tyrant
Periander. His claim to honor lay in his having trans-
formed into a regular choral hymn the old Dionysiac
improvisations known as “dithyrambs.” In order to exe-
cute his compositions, he is said to have been the first to
organize a circular chorus of fifty singers. His poems
could not fail to adapt themselves to this form of rep-
resentation. ‘To the poetic form thus revived and modified
a most brilliant fortune fell. For while, alongside of this
new dithyramb, tragedy was developing, which seems to
have been merely another adaptation of the songs sung
at the Country Dionysia, the dithyramb itself was evolv-
ing and making ready to become what it turned out to
be in the fifth century, one of the most perfected forms
of musical art associated with poetry.
Choral Poetry in Sicily and Southern Italy. Stesi-
chorus.—But already another form of choral poetry was
manifesting itself in Sicily and southern Italy, which is
no less worthy of attention. In long compositions, the
strophes of which were harmoniously grouped in triads,
the great poet Stesichorus, of Himera, gave lyric form
to ancient epic legends, chosen episodes from the Trojan
War, the crimes and misfortunes of the sons of Atreus,
the adventures of Helen, the hunt for the Calydonian
Boar, and other analogous themes. And in all these old
subjects, rejuvenated by song and music, enriched by
ideas and sentiments which a more advanced civilization .
could produce, adorned by an art which had at its dis-
posal a greater variety of colors, and assembled and con-
densed, finally, in more dramatic forms, acquired a lustre
INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL DEVELOPMENT = 638
and a glory which exalted the imagination. The poet
of Himera was destined to be one of the indirect inspirers
of the Athenian tragedy, when the latter, a century later,
created its immortal masterpieces.
National Character of the Choral Poetry in the Sixth
Century. Simonides.—Meanwhile, from the second half
of the sixth century on, this choral poetry, accepted in
all parts of Greece and everywhere associated with the
religious and political life, definitely acquired a national
character. From this point of view nobody represents it
better than the brilliant poet Simonides of Ceos (558—
468), who, by reason of his long life, carries us well into
the fifth century. A wandering poet, we find him now
at Athens at the court of Pisistratus and his sons, now in
Thessaly with the princes of Crannon or Larissa, now
again in Sicily as a guest of the tyrants Gelo and Hiero.
His poetry represents the flowering, as it were, of the
civilization of that time; it interprets all its sentiments,
it expresses its essential thoughts. Exercising his talent
in almost all of the lyric forms, Simonides composed
pans, eulogies, dithyrambs, dirges, and songs of victory,
to say nothing of epigrams and epitaphs, in which he
succeeded in immortalizing in a few verses the memory
of the brave men who had defended Hellenism and free-
dom against the onrush of barbarism. Endowed with a
touching sensibility, with an imagination both pleasant
and brilliant, with an emotional gravity fitted to religious
subjects, and with a quickened sense of perfection adapted
to things mundane, he was, among the poets of that time,
one of the most prolific contributors to that fund of
useful thought, of delicate sentiment, and of varied obser-
vation concerning human life which the two following
centuries were destined to turn to account.
Influence of Lyrism.—In a general way the lyric poetry
64 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
of the seventh and sixth centuries was for Greece a great
school of reflection. If we still possessed its masterpieces,
we should understand better the various stages in the prog-
ress of Hellenic thought between the time of Homer and
that of Aschylus. It was also, to an equal extent, a
great school of literary art. Thanks to the lyric poets,
the language acquired a suppleness, a splendor, a variety
of shades, a depth and a faculty of abstraction which the
epic poetry did not possess. It enriched itself with a
new vocabulary, still more striking and more expressive.
At the same time the art of composition was perfected
thru the influence of music. ‘The poets learned to con-—
dense their subjects, to make the most of them by means
of symmetrical groupings, to employ more intelligently
the effects of comparison and contrast. And the public,
on its part, educated by them, acquired a more exacting
taste, a more alert and more delicately a_tistic sense. In
this manner the way was prepared for the century of
f&ischylus and Sophocles. :
(3) PHILOSOPHY AND THE BEGINNINGS OF SCIENCE
Birth of Philosophy and the Sciences.—But the general
intellectual progress is still better attested by the begin-
nings of philosophy and of certain of the sciences.
The contemporaries of Homer and Hesiod had looked
upon the universe with the eyes of veritable children.
Deeply impressed by the great phenomena of nature, they
attributed to superhuman beings the play or the conflict
of forces which excited their fear or their wonder. Ac-
cordingly, they peopled the world with gods, whom they
conceived as resembling themselves in their passions, altho
infinitely superior in power. Thus accustomed to mir-
acles, they did not think of questioning their authenticity
INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL DEVELOPMENT _ 65
or of disputing them. Little by little, however, a few
thinkers, far in advance of their times, began to reflect.
It was in Ionia that this intellectual movement first made
itself felt. Miletus, a great commercial center, enjoying
relations with Chaldea and Egypt, known as the mother-
city of numerous colonies and reputed as the home of
much of the new knowledge, gave the signal for it.
Ionian Science. Thales and Hecateus.—Toward the
end of the seventh century an entirely new manner of com-
prehending the nature of things made its appearance in
the person of Thales. Engineer, astronomer, geometri-
cian, statesman, his title to fame is that of having opened
the way to a rational explanation of the great phenomena
of nature. He was the first one frankly to uphold the
idea that the genesis of the world was something else
than a theogony; and he dared to say so. Obedient to
a truly Hellenic instinct for simplification, he conceived
a primordial substance the transformations of which pro-
duced an infinite variety of things, and he thought that
this substance might be water. A rather crude idea, to
be sure, but a singularly interesting attempt and one well
calculated to excite the spirit of research. A little later
a compatriot of Thales, Hecateus, himself also states-
man, tried for the first time to give a complete description
of the inhabited world. Geography, which studies the sur-~
face of the earth, thus developed alongside of natural
philosophy, which seeks to explain its formation and com-
position. And in the process of their development these
new sciences brought with them mathematics, geometry,
astronomy, and calculus, all of which served them as
indispensable allies.
The Successors of Thales ——Once started, this admirable
movement, which did so much honor to Greece, was bound
to continue. After Thales, two other Milesians, first
}
we
66 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
Anaximander and then Anaximenes, both of whom lived
in the sixth century, were animated by his spirit and
devoted themselves to the same researches. Always fall-
ing back upon the fundamental idea of a single original
substance in perpetual transformation, each of them had,
nevertheless, his own personal views—a notable example
of the activity of the Greek mind, ever eager for criticism
and research. A marvelous emulation inspired these
thinkers. Anaximander thought he was improving upon
Thales in conceiving instead of water, as the origin of
everything that exists, something indefinite and illimitable,
which on account of its very nature would be more likely,
according to him, to assume all forms by the sole effect
of motion. This was perhaps merely substituting a vague
idea in place of an error. Anaximenes sought to correct
his two predecessors by explaining all life in the universe
by transformations of air, which, by the way, he con-
fused with vapors or mists. He at least had the merit
of thus bringing to light the importance of the phenomena
of condensation and rarefaction, with which he thought he
could rest satisfied as explaining the formation of all
things. We must not neglect to say that he, together
with Hecatzus, was undoubtedly one of the first to make
use of prose in a didactic work, and that in so doing he
helped to press the Ionian dialect into the service of
science.
Science and Philosophy in Sicily and Italy. Py-
thagoras and Xenophanes.—It appears that the Greek
mainland was not immediately captivated by these subtle
and profound researches; but they were favorably re-
ceived in occidental Greece, in Sicily, and in Italy. Com-
Ang from Samos, his birth-place, Pythagoras, in the sec-
ond half of the sixth century, founded an institute at
Crotona in Italy, later at Metapontum. A mystic moral-
INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL DEVELOPMENT § 67
ist as well as a mathematician, he seems to have depended
upon nobody directly. For him philosophy is especially
the study of numbers, which in his eyes become the
symbolic representation and the ultimate explanation of
all things, of all ideas; and altho he wanders into abstrac-
tion when he seeks to define the essence of things, he at
least grasps their numerical relation with a precision
that is entirely new. For this reason he deserves to be
looked upon as one of the promoters of arithmetic and
geometry, and as the creator of the mathematical the-
ory of the musical scale. Besides Pythagoras, another
Asiatic Greek, the poet-philosopher Xenophanes, a native
of Colophon, made for himself at about the same time, and
likwise in Italy, a name no less renowned. It is to him
that tradition attributes the origin of the so-called Eleatic
School. In fact, his poems convey to us the idea of an
itinerant rhapsodist traveling from city to city across
Sicily and southern Italy. Their subjects are varied,
some historical, others satirical, and others philosophical.
One senses here a fearless and inquiring intelligence. He
does not hesitate to scoff at the anthropomorphic my-
thology; and in certain fragments revealing his entire
system of thought, he affirms the unity of all life, which
he identifies with God. An entirely new view, which,
as we shall see further on, was destined to be taken
up again and developed by the powerful genius of
Parmenides.
Orphism.—But while these thinkers, consciously or
otherwise, were undermining the foundations of the tradi-
tional religious belief, the ancient religions were coming
to life again, as stated above, in the form of “Mysteries.”
Moreover, a certain philosophy was now interwoven with
this movement. A few men undertook to give to religion
a theology and a code of morality. Thus Orphism was
68 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
born, constituted about a new myth of the god Dionysus,
very different from the narratives of the ancient poets.
Whatever may have been its origin, it was at Athens,
toward the middle of the sixth century, that Orphism
seems to have taken form and consistency in the poems
composed by a certain Onomacritus and given out by him
as revelations of the legendary Orpheus. Here he ex-
posed by means of mythical fictions the origin of evil,
the miserable condition of humanity, and the means of
salvation which the religion of Dionysus-Zagreus offered
to the initiated by the observance of practical rituals and
of a code of abstinence and purification. Herodotus at-
tests with what favor Orphism was received by the sons
of Pisistratus; and there is no doubt that a part of high
Athenian society shared their sentiments. Nor do these
sentiments disappear with the period of tyranny. Orph-
ism becomes one of the elements of Greek culture.
Its influence will be found also among several of the great
thinkers of the fifth and fourth centuries.
(4) THE BEGINNINGS OF GREEK ART
Importance of Art im Hellenic Civilization—The pic-
ture which we have just drawn would be altogether in-
complete if we failed to add at least a few words concern-
ing the beginnings of the formative arts. No element
was of more importance than art in the civilization of
ancient Greece; none manifested more vividly certain es-
sential traits of the Hellenic genius. And these traits are
already clearly discernible in the initial period with which
we are now concerned.
General Character of Greek Art.—From its first at-
tempts Greek art, like Greek literature and philosophy,
looked upon the imitation of reality as a process of sim-
INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL DEVELOPMENT 69
plification. In this it was impelled by its instinct for
beauty, as well as by a natural gift of synthesis. Far
from losing himself in a complexity and infinite variety
of details, the Greek paid attention chiefly to the whole.
This simplification applied at once to forms and to move-
ments. In the reproduction of forms it tended to lay
emphasis upon the lines which the eye follows easily,
rather than upon those which it has difficulty in distin-
guishing. In the imitation of movements it used for its
effect the creation of a rhythm, which found expression
in an apparent or somewhat disguised symmetry. It was
this profound tendency, happily combined with an under-
standing of life, which was to result, after the first techni-
cal difficulties had been overcome, in the beauty peculiar
to the masterpieces of Greek art.
Architecture and Sculpture.—Ilt was ceritides from
the very start, in architecture. Of this we are able to
judge by the still existing ruins of the oldest temples.
The Greek temple is an isolated edifice of comparatively
small dimensions, the sanctuary and abode of a god, him-
self conceived in the image of man. It presents to the
eye straight lines, which stand out sharply against the
sky. Solid on its foundations, forming a well propor-
tioned mass, it appears plainly from afar, fronted or sur-
rounded by columns which serve as an elegant appendage.
In the course of the eighth, seventh, and sixth centuries,
the way of progress was in the direction, not of increas-
ing, but rather of decreasing the impression of size and
weight. The.shaft of the columns becomes thinner and
longer; the decoration, all the while remaining unob-
trusive, becomes finer and more elegant. If works of
sculpture are brought into play, they must always remain
subordinate to the conception of the architect, and never
alter the general lines or characteristic plans. Their
70 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
function is to adorn the pediments and recall the legends
of the gods. They attenuate their reliefs in the metopes
and still more in the friezes, so as not to disfigure the sur-
faces; and they seek scrupulously to respect the har-
mony of the whole.
The technical apprenticeship of the sculptor, moreover,
was much more protracted than that of the architect.
It is only in the second half of the seventh century that
Greek sculpture, related by legend to the ancient
Dedalus, enters into history with the names of some
bronzists and some workers in marble and clay. It like-
Wise aims at simplicity and rhythm; but at first it has
difficulty in freeing itself from a certain stiffness and
heaviness due to the inexperience of the artists. ‘The
schools of Samos and of Chios successively achieve im-
portant advances. Little by little the sculptor learns
to free the arms, which were at first rigidly attached to
the sides of the body, to distinguish better the delicate
curves of the face, and to indicate the play of muscles.
In the sixth century, when the Cretan masters, Dipoenus
and Scyllis, came to settle at Sicyon and to found and
head the school in the Peloponnesus, the process of im-
provement becomes more discernible. Spurred on by the
demands of the victorious athletes, the artists apply
themselves more and more to the study of the human
body. At the end of this century, Canachus of Sicyon
and Ageladas of Argos, in spite of the fact that the old
stiffness and rigidity still persisted in their work, already
possessed a rather definite knowledge of human anatomy.
At about the same time the Attic School was born. A
few pieces that have come down to us, notably the charm-
ing Corae of the Acropolis, and some funeral stelae, still
indicate that the Athenian artists were already distin-
INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL DEVELOPMENT 71
guishing themselves by a diligent effort to achieve a cer-
tain elegance and refinement in their work.
Ceramics.—Modern archeology, in collecting painted
vases, and in classifying them and determining their ap-
proximate age and origin, has done much to increase and
make more definite our knowledge of Greek art. Intended
for private as well as commercial uses, these vases were
undoubtedly industrial products; but a certain art was
quickly introduced into the ceramic industry, and the
perfecting of the latter makes it possible for us today to
recognize in this, as in architecture and sculpture, the
progress of taste. Moreover, it is the same spirit, the
same tendency, which determines them all. At first
Oriental influences make themselves strongly felt; the
oldest Greek vases reproduce, more or less, certain decora-
tions dear to the Orient. ‘The vase painter seeks to adorn
with figures or ornaments the surfaces which he is called
upon to decorate; he avoids leaving them bare. Then,
in the Corinthian ware, we find him already leaning to-
ward greater order and elegance, representing rows of
animals arranged in horizontal strips, one over the other.
The sixth century happily introduces an innovation in
the form of vases ornamented with black figures; and at
the same time we find at Athens a number of genuine
artists, such as Ergotimus, Clitias, and_ especially
Exechias, composing freely on amphore and kelebes, on
bowls and pater, small pictures representing scenes from
epic poetry, such as the exploits of Hercules and Theseus,
or the adventures of Ulysses and Ajax. During the early
stages of this new art the simplification of execution, due
in part to its clumsiness, is still excessive; it reduces the
bodies to angular, geometric forms, such as we find on
the funeral amphore of Dipylon. But little by little this
72 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
execution becomes more expressive; it succeeds better in
reproducing life and motion; it gains in charm by virtue
of its sincerity. Some of the latest products of Attic
art in this period are already veritable masterpieces.
(5) concLusion
To sum up, in the few centuries which we have just sur-
veyed, Greece had done more than merely outline its
civilization; in large measure it had already realized it.
It had constituted states, that is to say, human collectivi-
ties in which individual and social faculties were able to
develop under a régime of law; it had established a social
order composed of citizens united by common sentiments
and associated in traditional cults. Thru the voice of its
law-givers it had formulated the essential principles of
justice. Altho mutually independent, and too often
hostile toward one another, these states were nevertheless
conscious of a real fraternity, which was affirmed by the
great national cults, by the increasing authority of cer-
tain common sanctuaries, and by the festivals and Pan-
hellenic games, but especially because they all recognized,
in their diverse dialects, the same original language which
enabled them to understand one another. And _ this
language had already served to express a rich literature,
which was everywhere admired. In various works, in
epic poems, in iambics, in elegiacs, in lyrics, and in
philosophic prose, there was revealed a marvelous flower-
ing of thought and sentiment, striking manifestations
of a national genius in which intelligence and sensibility
proved to be equally powerful. Invention of all kinds had
emanated from this fund of wealth as from an inex-
haustible but not turbulent source. A like sense of order,
INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL DEVELOPMENT 73
measure, harmony, and beauty made itself admired in all
forms of art, according as they developed. At the end
of the sixth century Greece had acquired a privileged rank
in humanity.
PART II
THE FIFTH CENTURY
CHAPTER I
POLITICAL LIFE IN THE FIFTH CENTURY
Distinctive Character of the Fifth Century.—We have
now arrived at the period in which Hellenic civilization
shone forth with the greatest brilliancy; for it was
precisely in the fifth century that it appeared in its full
perfection. Altho in many respects, of course, it de-
veloped still further in the fourth century and even in the
following period, this development did not take place with-
out bringing about some gradual alteration of its char-
acteristic features. The fifth century was the privileged
period in which tradition and the spirit of innovation,
those two great forces which are ever at work in human
life, seemed almost to balance one another and by virtue
of their association realized a most fortunate harmony.
The Réle of Athens.—In achieving this realization
Athens played an altogether exceptional role. It is true
that other cities produced remarkable men at that time;
but no other could point to so great a number of them,
and no other brought forth so many admirable works of
all kinds. Athens is the city in which the great traits
of Greek civilization, those which have left their imprint
upon humanity, became most prominent and most illus-
trious. We have already seen how this city had grown
in the sixth century. The revolution which overthrew the
tyrants gave it a new impetus. A democratic constitution,
tempered by the influence of a still respected aristocracy,
permitted it to develop its power in the period prior
77
78 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
to the Persian Wars. Its victories in these wars
and its solidarity of action (from approximately 490 to
450 p.c.) rendered its people the most glorious represen-
tative of national independence. Supported by a power-
ful maritime confederation, Athens became, toward the
middle of the century, under the government of Pericles,
the mistress of intercourse among the Greek peoples and
the sovereign of the Hellenic seas. In this material pros-
perity its genius unfolded magnificently; thru its states-
men, its poets, its historians, its thinkers, and its artists,
it succeeded in becoming an incomparable model of in-
telligence and beauty.
Nevertheless, its political organization proved insuffi-
cient to overcome the formidable difficulties which soon
rose before it. The force of circumstances set it at
variance with Sparta, whose power was almost equal to
its own. In a war lasting twenty-eight years (432-404
B.c.) and abounding in catastrophes, it gave evidence of
a remarkable energy, but it did not succeed in providing
against its own defects. This sharp rivalry carried it
finally into a disaster which was of fatal consequence to
all Greece. The result of its defeat was the creation
among the Greek cities of a state of irremediable division,
which culminated in the subjection of all of them to the
domination of Macedonia. For the moment let us give
our attention to that Athenian democracy the role of
which we have just defined.
(1) THE ATHENIAN DEMOCRACY
Achievement of the Athenian Democracy.—By virtue
of its merits and its defects, the Athenian democracy is
one of the most interesting political experiments in all
history. We have already seen how it was constituted
POLITICAL LIFE IN THE FIFTH CENTURY 79
by Clisthenes, in 507 3. c.; but not until after the second
Persian War did it succeed in organizing itself, first under
the influence of Themistocles, then under Pericles and his
associate Ephialtes. After about 460 3.c., when the
authority of the Areopagus had declined, we may say
that it had realized its basic principles in all their signifi-
cance.
The popular sovereignty was absolute. All powers
were vested in the people, that is to say, in the general
body of citizens, who exercised them directly, or very
nearly so. It was in fact the Assembly, composed of all
the citizens, which decided on everything, either imme-
diately or in the last resort. There was no check against
its authority. If it wished to modify the laws, it in-
structed a commission to propose new ones, which it
accepted or rejected according to its pleasure. As for the
conduct of business, it regulated everything by de-
crees. It is true that a Council of Five Hundred was
charged with examining the decrees beforehand and with
revising them; but its power did not go beyond that and
consequently did not in any way restrict that of the
Assembly. The Council, furthermore, was elected by lot
and was renewed every year. In actual practice, there-
fore, the power of making laws, as also for the most part
the power of negotiation and administration, belonged to
the Assembly. ‘The latter also possessed judicial power,
altho it exercised this power directly, to be sure, only in
cases of particularly grave charges involving the safety
of the state. In ordinary cases it delegated its power to
the courts; but the latter, each of them composed of
several hundred citizens chosen by lot, were after all
scarcely more than fractions of the Assembly. Nothing
could have resembled less a judiciary body, at the same
time possessing its spirit, its traditions, and the prestige
80 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
derived from special training. Moreover, the sovereign
Assembly was constantly at work. It met regularly
several times a month, and besides that whenever it was
convoked for an extraordinary session, either by a com-
mission of the Council of Five Hundred charged with this
duty or by the Generals (strategi). At all times, as a
matter of fact, it had to be ready to declare its will, since
everything depended upon it.
The same principles applied to the tribes and to the
demes, and in general to all regularly constituted groups
of citizens. Each of these bodies, political or religious,
governed itself on the sole condition that it was not to
encroach upon the rights of the state. Each of them
drew up its own laws or regulations; each made its own
decisions and controled their execution. It was an es-
tablished idea of the Athenian people that every collec-
tivity was the best judge of its own interests.
Public Offices and Services.—Such a system of govy-
ernment did not admit of officials, properly speaking.
Every public office was only a temporary commission,
generally of one year’s duration and always revocable.
In no case did a public charge belong to any one man.
Moreover, almost all functions were assigned by lot, so
that any citizen whatsoever, provided he was in full pos-
session of his rights, had as much chance as any other of
occupying, in his turn, this or that office. This was in
line with the most democratic conception of equality. It
was also, no doubt, a precaution taken against personal
or collective influences; and perhaps, too, it was thought
that this chance designation was least likely to inflate
with pride the persons on whom it fell. Only a few special
functions calling for a very definite type of ability—
for example, those of strategi—were entrusted to elected
citizens; but even they were named only for a strictly
POLITICAL LIFE IN THE FIFTH CENTURY 81
limited time, and the people always reserved the right to
recall them or to replace them as soon as their services
were found to be no longer satisfactory.
Aside from these reserved functions, it is clear that one
could not expect to find any special competence in the
persons on whom the lot fell. As a matter of fact, their
functions were reduced to executive measures in which
there was scarcely any variation, or which were clearly
defined in the decrees to be executed. A little practical
sense, accordingly, was all that was required to carry
them out correctly. What, then, was the custom in case
of work calling for technical knowledge? In such in-
stances the people or the interested collectivity chose
commissioners, upon whom they conferred definite powers.
In both cases, however, they were bound to render an
account at the expiration of their charge or commission;
for the principle of personal responsibilty applied to
everybody. Naturally, individual responsibility varied
in importance according to the nature of the duties im-
posed.
Government. The Orators——If in this organization
the people governed everything, who, one may ask,
governed the people? For it is certain that no assembly
in the world has ever governed effectively. The Athen-
ian people passed on proposals which were laid before
them, but it was necessary for these proposals to be
presented and explained to them and to be discussed be-
fore them; and every policy, in order to become one,
had to be conceived and executed by a small number of
capable men. In other words, the Athenian democracy
could not have functioned without the intervention of
persons whom it called “leaders of the people”
(demagogs)—a designation which would now have no
unpleasant significance if it had always retained its true
82 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
meaning. These “leaders of the people” had no means
of influence other than persuasion. Athens, therefore,
could not get along without orators, and there more than
anywhere else the skillful orator had a chance of gaining
political power and influence. His task was both diffi-
cult and perilous. Addressing an Assembly which had
neither well established traditions nor precise knowledge
regarding most of the matters that came up for considera-
tion, he had to instruct his hearers, to set forth clearly the
advantages and disadvantages of the projects under dis-
cussion, and to point out their relation to general views,
and also to arouse sentiments favorable to his ideas.
Thus he entered very seriously upon his responsibility ; for
if his proposition violated some law, he exposed himself to
a charge of illegality, entailing the loss of his ciyic rights
and a runinous fine. And even without that, he risked at
the very least the loss of his reputation or some perfidious
imputation on the part of his adversaries before a crowd
quick to suspect evil designs.
The Administration of Pericles and His Successors.
—The administration of Pericles showed by a striking ex-
ample what use a superior man could make of these
institutions; but it also revealed the dangers to which he
was exposed. Combining an extensive training and
knowledge of affairs with an inborn prudence and per-
spicacity, power of reflection, and quickness of judgment,
in addition to a spirit of decision, a commanding char-
acter, and a power of eloquence, he exercised a sort of
personal domination over the Athenian people for a
period of thirty years. Enlightened and guided by him,
the Athenian democracy gave proof of logical progress
in ideas and of constancy in action. It succeeded in out-
lining a policy at once energetic and prudent, inspired by
ambition, it is true, but by an ambition which was not
POLITICAL LIFE IN THE FIFTH CENTURY 83
lacking in grandeur and which was restrained, when
necessary, by a sense of moderation. It was distinguished
especially by a knowledge of everything which embellished
human life. It was truly a beautiful spectacle. But
this domination, entirely personal and always in danger,
sometimes had to defend itself by questionable means;
and it culminated in a misfortune which revealed its
fragility. Moreover, it remained an exceptional condi-
tion; and altho we may justly do honor to the Athenian
democracy because of it, it would be an excess of indul-
gence to judge that democracy solely by a success of such
short duration.
After the death of Pericles there is no doubt that the
Athenian people were still successful in turning their
remarkable qualities to account. In the course of the
Peloponnesian War their constancy was much to be ad-
mired. At that time we see them facing severe trials
with no signs of weakening, skillfully taking advantage
of certain circumstances, valiantly reorganizing their
forces after the disastrous Sicilian Expedition, and for
a long time resisting implacable and formidable enemies
—in a word, disputing the victory to the last moment.
But what they manifestly lacked was wise management
and moderation in the conduct of affairs. Replacements
of persons in office—which are not peculiar to any form
of government—had special consequences there, leading,
as they did, to sudden changes of foreign policy and to
risky enterprises. Besides this there were defeats suf-
fered by the generals, internal revolutions, as well as
discontent and defections on the part of the members
of the maritime confederation. These, then, are the de-
fects and reverses which it is necessary to balance with
the merits and successes. Both are in large measure
explained by the qualities, good and bad, of the Athenian
84 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
constitution, A few observations will set this forth more
clearly.
Civic Spirit—It is certain that the participation of
all the citizens in the government had the effect of de-
veloping and maintaining a civic spirit among the popu-
lar masses. It was almost impossible for a man called
daily to deliberate upon matters of common interest not
to sense their importance. A considerable part of the
citizen’s leisure time was taken up by public life. As a
member of a deme, of a tribe, of one or several religious
associations, and as a judge, magistrate or commissioner,
and in any case in the Assembly or occasionally in the
Council of the Five Hundred, the Athenian felt himself
an active member of a collectivity with the prosperity
of which his own welfare was closely bound up. Obliged
to listen to the proposals or the reports of commis-
sioners and to the speeches of orators, and to form an
opinion on each subject brought up for discussion, he
could scarcely fail to acquire a certain adeptness in public
affairs, a certain practical knowledge of men and of
things. Thus his political intelligence was formed and
his attachment to the city-state was strengthened. Such
a people, well directed, was necessarily more capable than
any other of wisdom and of patriotism.
But no quality, natural or acquired, has ever brought
it about that the masses could do without an intellectual
aristocracy or protect themselves always against their
own mistakes. The democratic evolution had left no in-
strumentality at Athens to counter-balance the will of
the people. On the other hand, it was difficult for the
democracy, organized as it was, to have real statesmen
as leaders. An extensive and solid education was rare at
that time; and those who had the best chance of gaining
one often found themselves removed from the conduct of
POLITICAL LIFE IN THE FIFTH CENTURY 85
affairs and thrown back into a disdainful or blindly
hostile opposition.
The Athenian Conception of Liberty.—This situation
was due chiefly to the manner in which liberty was con-
ceived by the Athenian people. It was not based for them,
as it is for us, upon the notion of the rights of men, that
is to say, on respect for the human personality. Indeed,
how could such a sentiment have existed in a society which
regarded slavery as a natural fact? Liberty, not alone
for the Athenians, but for the Greeks in general, was a
privilege, the privilege of the citizen. It consisted essen-
tially in participation in the government and in equality
before the law. It did not involve any positive limitation
of the rights of the State. With respect to this the
Athenian people had no precise idea. 'To them it seemed
just for a man to be condemned to ten years of exile with-
out having been permitted to speak in his own behalf, even
without having been placed directly on trial, simply be-
cause he was suspected by a majority of his fellow-
citizens; or again, it was not unusual for a citizen to be
banished or condemned to death because his religion in-
volved ideas other than those of the masses, and he
professed them. Equality, on the other hand, was under-
stood and practiced in a singular manner. The rich,
or those who were regarded as such, were subject to
contributions, not regulated and proportional, but arbi-
trarily imposed under the name of liturgies and often
excessive. Accused by persons who made a business of
it, and scarcely able to count upon the impartiality of the
popular tribunals, they often found themselves obliged
to purchase the silence of their adversaries. Such
abuses, even if we assume that they were not of very
frequent occurrence, could not fail to create in the
classes most affected an animosity which was always
86 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
dangerous and became even more so at the time of crises.
They had the effect of keeping these classes in a perpetual
state of distrust and discontent, and often even trans-
formed them into conspirators.
Difficulties of Constitutional Opposition. Revolutions.
—What contributed the most to this state of affairs,
however, was the difficulty met by an opposition party
in carrying out any effective plan of action. No doubt
every individual, by means of certain arrangements, could
freely express his opinions before the Assembly; but even
supposing that one obtained a hearing, his chances of
success were often slight. ‘The majority of modern democ-
racies find their equilibrium in the play of political parties,
which succeed one another in the control of the govern-
ment; but this is possible only if the government consists
of a grouping of codrdinated and well defined powers.
As we have just seen, however, the only real power at
Athens was that of the Assembly; there was no supreme
magistracy, nothing analogous to a cabinet of ministers
for directing the conduct of affairs. Under these condi-
tions no oratorical success assured a party even of the
minimum of continuous action which it would have re-
quired to gain its ends. It was necessary to win as many
victories as there were deliberations. How, then, was it
possible to pursue a far-sighted policy based upon a
crystallized public opinion, a policy which could be
realized only gradually and to an extent which only time
and experience could determine?
All this explains the attitude of the Athenian aristo-
cratic party in the fifth century. Until about 450 zB. c.
we witness this party, supported by the personal au-
thority of some of its leaders, such as Cimon, trying to
combat a policy which tended to make the people as such
omnipotent. Between 450 and 430 3.c. it is against
POLITICAL LIFE IN THE FIFTH CENTURY 87
Pericles personally that the same party directs its attack;
at every turn it combats his proposals, up to the sentence
of exile pronounced against its leader, the statesman
Thucydides of Alopece. Once he is out of the way,
everything is reduced to oratorical skirmishing, pam-
phleteering, and attempted impeachments. But accord-
ing as the opposition becomes more aware of the small
value of the constitutional means of action, it resorts
more and more to other means outside the constitution.
It was at this time that the “societies of friends,” or
hetairia, were organized, at first mere gatherings of
malcontents, which circumstances combined to make the
hotbeds of conspiracies. Then come the sorrowful crises
of the Peloponnesian War; and thereafter on two occa-
sions, first in 411 3. c. in the midst of the difficulties and
moral depression following the disaster in Sicily, and
again in 404 n.c. after the capture of Athens by
Lysander, the oligarchical reaction breaks forth with
violence. It is the explosion of a long suppressed exas-
peration, the vengeance of a humiliated class which gives
free vent to its resentment. Because it did not succeed in
doing full justice to all the elements of the city-state,
the democracy, without suspecting what was in the air,
produced this tyranny, which suddenly broke loose.
The Democracy and the Maritime Confederation.—
Another mistake the democracy made was in organizing’
_ the maritime confederation. When the Greek inhabitants
of the islands, freed from the Persian yoke, had come to
Athens, they were received there as allies and consequently
as equals. The occasion was opportune for constituting
a Hellenic confederation, which in the long run would per-
haps have been able to attract to it almost all the peoples
of Greece. In order to do this, however, it would have
been necessary for each city-state in this confederation
88 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
really to preserve its independence. Nothing of the kind
happened. The Athenian people, accustomed to un-
limited power, could not for an instant entertain the idea
of a federal government in which they would have had
only a limited share of influence. Thus we have the
spectacle of a city-state, that is to say, a popular as-
sembly, governing other city-states from afar, and not
only compeling them to pay taxes which it alone deter-
mined, but calling before its tribunals all the federal
cases and intervening in their party disputes. ‘Thus the
Athenian democracy was transformed into an imperial
power, obliged to maintain itself by the employment of
military and naval forces which its subjects paid for
but which it alone commanded.
Physiognomy of the Athenian Democracy.—These
inner defects appeared, of course, only little by little.
A critical analysis necessarily brings to light certain
features which the ordinary movement of life concealed,
especially during the brilliant period in which Athens
found itself developing from day to day. We may be
sure that the majority of the Athenians of that time were
proud of their city-state and, on the whole, content to
live in it. Surely most of them found it agreeable to
feel that they were being governed as little as possible.
The one-year magistrates had no difficulties to contend
with, no exacting duties to perform. How could they
have abused so limited a power—one, moreover, which
they were to relinquish so soon? Consequently, they lived
without constraint, each to his own taste, without any.
obtrusive interference to fear. Here, then, was a great
indulgence from the point of view of the customs as well
as in the application of the laws. People were content
to make light of things that were punished elsewhere.
Discipline at Athens acquired the good-natured form of
POLITICAL LIFE IN THE FIFTH CENTURY 89
raillery. We may recall, as a sort of summary, the
characteristic judgment which Thucydides attributed to
Pericles:
Our constitution (he has him say) is called democratic, be-
cause it is made, not for the advantage of a few, but the good
of the great number. Moreover, our laws assure equality
to all as regards private interests. As for each man’s reputa-
tion, it is determined by his individual merit; one values a
man, with a view to public service, less according to his con-
dition than according to his own worth. Poverty, if one is
capable of serving the city well, offers no obstacles to the
humblest citizen; on the other hand, there is no espionage
whatsoever on one another; nobody accords a neighbor a cool
‘reception because he indulges in certain pleasures. We have
no ceremonies here, which, without being penalties, are none
the less disagreeable to undergo. Thus private life is exempt
from chicaneries without our having, for that reason, any less
fear, any less respect, for the laws, so far as the citizens are
concerned.*
The orator who thus expresses himself is supposed to
be speaking in the name of the state at a public cere-
mony; he can present things only in the most favorable
light. But the gravity of the historian does not harbor
the thought that there is nothing serious in this official
optimism. The appreciation laid in the mouth of
Pericles, moreover, conforms to the impression left to us
by all of the existing testimonies. Notwithstanding the
important reservations expressed above, there is no
doubt that the democracy at this time had not yet realized
among the Athenians many of the conditions which
in any human society favor the development of the best
qualities of the mind and the will. Athens had the dis-
tinction of being the first to experiment, with brilliant
1 Thucydides, II, 37.
90 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
partial success, with this form of government, of having
illustrated, so to speak, some of its best aspects, and, in
so doing, of having given future generations a useful
example and valuable instruction.
(2) POLITICAL LIFE IN THE OTHER GREEK CITIES
Other Greek Democracies——Of the other Greek de-
mocracies little is known. None of them, however, seems
to have been distinguished from the type of the Athenian
city-state by the possession of any very original institu-
tions. ‘Those of the islands of the maritime confeder-
ation, at Samos, Chios, and Lesbos, were directly inspired
by the examples of the Athenian people and naturally
felt the effects of what took place at Athens. ‘The same
parties were in conflict, the same passions were aroused,
and the same revolutions occurred—with very slight
differences. In Greece proper the most important de-
mocracy, after that of Athens, was the Argive democracy ;
but Argos, always closely watched by the jealousy of
Sparta, and, besides, only moderately active and occupied
more with agriculture than with commerce, remained with-
out expansion or colonization.
In Sicily, on the other hand, the intellectual activity
as well as the business activity was great. Cities such
as Syracuse comprised a population in many respects
similar to that of Athens. But the necessity with which
the Greeks of Sicily were confronted, of defending them-
selves against the incessant menace of the Carthaginians,
compeled them to maintain a military force which was
a constant danger to liberty. The victorious generals,
at the head of mercenary armies animated by no civic
pride, had very little difficulty in taking advantage of
the party conflicts for the purpose of gaining power for
POLITICAL LIFE IN THE FIFTH CENTURY 91
themselves. They played the réle of protectors of the
poor, and partly by deceit and partly by force they set
themselves up as tyrants. When their excess finally led
to their overthrow, they generally retired in favor of other
ambitious men or of a revolutionary democracy, whose
acts of violence prepared the ground for a new tyranny.
Few and short were the periods of internal peace and
stability. ‘The same observations apply to several of the
Greek city-states in southern Italy.
Oligarchies.—F rom the political point of view, on the
other hand, one can not set any great value on the con-
tribution of the Greek oligarchies to the development of
Hellenic civilization. ‘The most important of them, that
of Sparta, while displaying its peculiar qualities of
energy, discipline, and constancy, succeeded neither in
making its preponderance acceptable abroad, nor in re-
lieving at home the rigors of a legislation which in conse-
quence of the steady decline of the number of its citizens
slowly led it to its ruin. Sparta was alarmed by this
fatal weakening, and as a result engaged all the more in
the maintenance of its supremacy in the Peloponnesus.
Jealous of the increasing power of Athens but incapable
of supplanting it, and wrapped up in traditions and prej-
udices which prevented it from admitting salutory in-
fluences from abroad, this city consumed itself in efforts
which, to be sure, secured it a temporary victory over
its rival, but at the same time exhausted its forces with-
out producing anything truly great or useful. Its
military power, its internal tranquility, its individual
virtues, were able to deceive some Athenian malcontents.
The latter extoled its laws in hatred of the democratic
régime which they impatiently endured ; they admired, not
without reason, some of its kings and generals. It is
no less certain, if the fecundity of a people is to be meas-
92 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
ured by what it has done for the good of humanity, that
Sparta, as a city-state, remained unproductive in the
fifth century. Distrustful of everything which it could
not understand, Sparta was the great obstacle to the un-
ification of Greece; and we may say that by its very
successes, far from furthering national expansion, it pre-
pared, with its own downfall, the destruction of the other
Greek states.
Tyrannies.—As for the tyrannies, if in the fifth cen-
tury they had any share to claim in the development of
Hellenic civilization, it was only in the occasional pro-
tection which they were able to afford to literature and
the arts. But politically they were the very negation of
order and progress, since they proceeded from the de-
struction of the laws and maintained themselves only by
trampling under foot the principles which properly con-
stituted the city-state. Where the will of one man
prevailed without restrictions, the term citizen no longer
had any meaning. At that time, even in cases when the
tyrant did not use his personal power as a means of
gratifying his basest passions, those persons who were
under his domination, having no assured rights and being
forced to look upon obedience to the will of a master as
the sole guarantee of their security, were nothing more
than subjects. If such a régime had become generally
prevalent, Greece would not only have fallen from the
position of superiority which it owed to its conception of
law and liberty, but would have been degraded to the level
of the nations which it justly described as barbarian.
CHAPTER II
CULT AND THE GREAT RELIGIOUS MANI-
FESTATIONS IN THE FIFTH CENTURY
Development of Cult in the Fifth Century.—lIf the
reader recalls what has already been said in regard to the
place which religion occupied in the life of the Greek city-
states, he will not be surprised to learn that the brilliant
rise of Hellenic civilization in the fifth century was ac-
companied by a no less brilliant development of cult.
It was, in fact, the increasing intensity of their internal
life, the consciousness of their power, and the abundant
resources of some of them, which at that time made it
possible for the religious ceremonies to achieve a new
glory by utilizing to advantage the general improvement
of the arts.
The Panhellenic Festivals—Unfortunately no writer
has given us a complete description of the great celebra-
tions of Olympia and Delphi, and of Corinth and
Nemea, in the fifth century. We can picture them to
ourselves only by piecing together scattered testimonies,
which completely overlook interesting details. They
permit us, however, to imagine their beauty and better
to understand their moral effect.
It was in the fifth century that the sacred precinct of
Olympia, where until then only a few ancient monuments
were to be seen, was provided with the majority of the
edifices the ruins of which still cover the ground there
today. At that time was built the great Temple of
93
94 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
Zeus, in which was placed the celebrated statue of the
god, one of the masterpieces of Phidias. At that time,
too, were erected almost all the sanctuaries which the
various Greek city-states gave themselves the honor of
dedicating to him, either in commemoration of their
victories or simply as evidence of their piety. Delphi
presented a similar spectacle. From year to year there
was a steady increase in the number of these votive
statues, not to mention the offerings, altars, and treas-
ures. Each of the Greek peoples had some favor to ask
of Apollo, some evidence of recognition to present to him.
Every one of these sacred places, where so much wealth
and so many admirable works of art were amassed, thus
became a focus from which, the national genius radiated
in all its glory. By the impression which they make even
to this day upon the modern visitor, one may judge what
impression they must have created when their marvelous
decorations of art were still there to be seen in all their »
splendor.
There, at the time of the periodical festivals, thronged
the sacred embassies which conveyed the homages and
offerings of the Greek city-states and their colonies;
and with these deputations came the ever increasing
multitude of onlookers. Never had rivalry been more
intense among those who took part in these competitions.
Before this immense gathering an unparalled emulation
inspired the athletes to display, in the various gymnastic
exercises, those physical qualities which the Greeks looked
upon almost as virtues. It is well known how the glory
of the victors, acclaimed by an enthusiastic multitude,
was afterwards celebrated in their native states. And
what aroused the ancient Greeks even more than the
games in the stadium were the chariot races, which at
that time seem to have acquired an importance com-
CULT AND RELIGIOUS MANIFESTATIONS 95
mensurate with the increase of wealth. The victories of
the Sicilian princes, Hiero of Syracuse and Theron of
Agrigentum, those of the King of Cyrene, Arcesilaus,
and others, are known to us thru the poems of Simonides,
Pindar and Bacchylides, who celebrated them in magnifi-
cent verses. ‘The Thessalian nobles, on their part, proud
of their renowned horses, ardently disputed the prizes in
these Olympian or Pythian, Isthmian or Nemean contests,
which according to the expression of Horace “raised.
mortals to the rank of gods.” Moreover, the. aristo-
crats of the republic themselves, notably those of Athens,
were far from showing lack of interest in these prizes.
Various writers make known to us the names of rich
Athenians who, at different times, had sought and obtained
them. In particular we may mention the renowned Alci-
biades, who was one day proud of displaying an unusual
pomp at Olympia and carried away as many as three
prizes at a single festival.
The intellect, moreover, also played its part in these
festivals. In the fifth century, in fact, we witness the
introduction of the use of recitations. Without mention-
ing the rhapsodists, the masters of oratory and dialectic,
whose instruction was at that time an entirely new thing,
the philosophers and historians attended in order to
deliver lectures or to read a few pieces before the bene-
volent listeners whom they were sure to find in these great
assemblages. In this way useful exchanges of ideas were
brought about. Men became acquainted with one an-
other and with the new things of the day; and the rela-
tions thus established tended in some measure to relieve
the excessive particularism of the Greek city-states.
Festivals of the City-states. Preeminence of the
Athenian Festivals.—Like the Panhellenic festivals, many
others restricted either to the different states or to
96 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
cities or market-towns, were sanctified, so to speak, by
some beautiful religious legends, and increased in impor-
tance and splendor in the fifth century. Among them,
those of Athens deserve especially to be mentioned; for
not only were they everywhere recognized as the most
pleasing to the eye, the best ordered, and the most worthy
of the gods, but it was also to them that the largest num-
ber of foreigners was attracted. Moreover, the admira-
tion which they called forth caused them to be imitated
in many places. It was notably at Athens that the
theatrical performances acquired the character which
gradually came to be adopted everywhere. From the
middle of the sixth century the state had taken over the
direction of them; and the example set by Pisistratus
and his sons was followed by the democracy of the fifth
century. The Assembly regarded it as one of its most
serious duties to insure the good organization of the offi-
cial ceremonies. It regulated them by means of decrees,
the execution of which was effected by the tribes. Upon
the latter, as a matter of fact, it devolved to designate
those of their richest members who were to bear a portion
of the expense and to take charge of the necessary prep-
arations. The persons thus designated became morally
responsible to their tribe for the success of the ceremony,
and to a certain extent they were responsible also to the
people as a whole. They incurred the disfavor of the
public if they exposed themselves to a charge of parsi-
mony or of negligence. Since all the festivals, or nearly
all of them, had the form of competitions, the instinctive
desire, strong in the Greeks of that time, to surpass
others, entered into play among them all. Men outdid
themselves in order to outdo their rivals.
Some Great Athenian Festivals —These Athenian fes-
tivals were numerous. There was scarcely a month in
CULT AND RELIGIOUS MANIFESTATIONS 97
the year which did not have its celebrations of one kind
or another. The most important of them, and at the
same time the most representative of the civilization of
the fifth century, were the Panathenaa, the Anthesteria,
the Greater Dionysia, the Lenwa, and the Eleusinia.
The Panathenaea was in a sense the national festival
of Athens, that in which the city commemorated the an-
niversary of its birth and paid solemn homage to its
ancestral goddess. We have already mentioned the
rhapsodic recitations which in the sixth century became
one of the principal elements of this festival and helped
to preserve the character of the ancient epic poetry as
an institution always rich in influence and instruction.
But what undoubtedly constituted the principal attrac-
tion in the fifth century was the procession, the memory
of which is immortalized in the celebrated frieze of the
Parthenon. Thanks to the conception of Phidias, and
perhaps also to his chisel, we still see here the idealized
representation of the city-state, its people marching in
good order to bring to the goddess their homage and
offerings. Here we behold old men of the nobility,
vigorous ephebes mastering their ardent steeds, and
virgins and women in the natural grace of their postures
and movements. Nothing could impress upon our minds
more strongly the great wealth of order, of innate har-
mony, and of serene beauty contained in the Athenian
religion.
The Eleusinia were of an entirely different character
and manifested another aspect of this religion. The
procession which went on foot from Athens to Eleusis,
to the sanctuary of Demeter and Kora (Persephone)
renewed the rites of an ancient agrarian cult the primi-
tive significance of which was profoundly modified. 'The
sentiments which animated the initiates and those who
98 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
aspired to the initiation, have been defined above. They
all went to seek, in this sacred place, hope for another
life. In the rites which they observed were features in
which the former rural nature of the festival was clearly
discernible; but the new ideas had done away with all this
and everywhere had injected added beauty. This was to
be seen in the column of armed ephebes who accompanied
the procession; it was apparent especially in the new
monuments the rise of which Eleusis witnessed in the fifth
century, in particular the Hall of Initiation (Teles-
terion), one of the architectural masterpieces of the time.
The Anthesteria, the Dionysia, and the Lenea all
centered their attention upon one and the same god,
Dionysus, who at that time, in the Olympus of the fifth
century, had become a personage of the first importance.
The truth is, numerous cults were to some extent founded
upon another cult in order to give him this importance;
and under a single name homage was paid to various
gods and goddesses whose identity was no longer dis-
tinguished. ‘This explains how a single cult could present
very diverse aspects. Joy was mixed with sorrow;
drunkenness, sensuality, and ribaldry with enthusiasm,
with a noble and generous exaltation, and with pity.
It was this mixture of elements which rendered the cult
so remarkably productive of creative inspirations. In the
Anthesteria there existed curious and naive rites which
are especially interesting for: the history of religions,
but which we may here overlook. It is the Dionysia
and the Lenea which attract our attention above all,
for with these festivals are associated some of the fore-
most manifestations of the Hellenic genius.
Dionysiac Lyrism of the Fifth Century.—One of the
most brilliant of these manifestations was the dithyramb,
the origins and first developments of which we have al-
CULT AND RELIGIOUS MANIFESTATIONS 99
ready outlined. This lyric form appears in full bloom
again in the fifth century, and we find it associated pre-
cisely with the cult of Dionysus at Athens. The testi-
monies inform us that it was sung at the City Dionysia
by choruses which competed among themselves. On the
other hand, we know that the most celebrated poets,
Bacchylides and Pindar, preceded by Simonides, com-
posed poems for these competitions, some fragments of
which have come down to us. ‘Toward the end of the same
century, moreover, the innovators in musical art, Philox-
enus and Timotheus, adapted the same form to their new
conceptions. At that time the dithyramb rivaled the
nome, which, more serious and more purely religious,
had always been associated with the cult of Apollo;
and in this sort of rivalry between two forms and two
divine patrons it seems that Dionysus tended to get
the upper hand. These lyric representations charmed the
Athenian public. To meet their desires Pericles had
the Odeum constructed, the first theater to be consecrated
especially to musical performances. Since music and
song were looked upon as essential parts of the common
education, everybody in Athens had at least some con-
ception of them. Moreover, in the competitions between
the tribes there were, besides the choruses of adults, also
choruses of children, who likewise took part, so the an-
cient testimonies give us to understand, in the ceremonies
of the City Dionysia.
The Drama: its Diverse Forms.—Nevertheless, among
the elements of the Dionysiac festivals none was equal in
value to the drama. It was in its theatrical productions,
indeed, that Athens in the fifth century revealed most
clearly the originality of its genius. In the two essential
types of the dramatic form, tragedy and comedy, it
produced works which immediately became models and
100 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
which since that time have not ceased to command
admiration. Both created in the preceding century,
tragedy and comedy had not been slow to win public
favor and to secure the patronage of the state. From
586 B.c. on, the latter instituted competitions among
the tragic poets, among whom Thespis stood forth con-
spicuously at that time. At the beginning of the fifth
century the comic poets, in their turn, were invited to
compete for a prize especially reserved for their art;
and from that time on, it seems, these two competitions
took place annually, tragedy at first being properly a
part of the Dionysia, and comedy of the Lenawa. 'This
distinction, however, was soon modified. Without en-
tering here into the details of a regulation which varied,
and which scarcely pertains to our subject, let us simply
recall the custom observed at the City Dionysia during
the second half of the century. Every year the archon-
king, in charge of the official cult, had to choose from
among the poets who entered the competition, on the one
hand, three authors of tragedies, each of whom con-
tributed three plays (to which was added one play of a
special kind called a satyr drama); and, on the other
hand, three authors of comedies, each of whom had to
furnish only one play. To each of these six competitors
he assigned a chorus furnished by one of the tribes, the
latter, as we have seen, having designated a choregus,
whose duty it was to equip and train this chorus at his
own expense. As for the actors, the manner of choosing
them, of assigning roles to them, and of remunerating
them, was subject to various modifications of which we
need not speak here. ‘The production of these fifteen
plays required three days. Ten judges, designated by
lot by means of a rather complicated system of drawings,
had to pronounce upon the relative merits of the com-
CULT AND RELIGIOUS MANIFESTATIONS 101
petitors. Only the one person who was ranked absolute
first, either in the tragedy competition or in the comedy
competition, was proclaimed the victor. These few facts
show clearly how much pains the people took to have
everything in this organization perfectly regulated with
a view to encouraging the production of the most beau-
tiful works.
Essential Character of the Theatrical Performances.—
The fact is, the Athenians did not go to the theater to
find relaxation for a few moments. For them a perform-
ance was a rare thing, occurring only two or three times
a year. It was a part of one of their great religious
festivals. A considerable crowd attended it. All the
classes mingled there, and on these days everybody con-
curred in the same sentiments. Before the performance a
great expectancy held the public mind in suspense; one
knew that one was about to see something new, the work
of the most remarkable intellects of the time. Everybody
hoped that the awaited spectacle would do honor to the
city-state before the strangers who had come to wit-
ness it, and that it would be worthy of the god to whom
homage was being paid. And in the course of the per-
formance it was inevitable that in a gathering so large
and so impressionable, but composed for the most part
of persons of mediocre culture, there should occur
sudden outbreaks of general emotion, of irresistible en-
thusiasm, which removed the doubts of the more exacting
and discriminating minds. Under these conditions the
impressions received were necessarily more naive, more
profound, less individual and less reserved, than are
ordinarily those of the spectators of our day. But in
order to analyze them a little more closely, it is mani-
festly necessary to consider the tragedy and the comedy
separately.
102 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
Tragedy and its Subjects —What was, therefore, a
Greek tragedy? As regards subject, it was a piece or
section of the national history. For here there was no
necessity of distinguishing, as we might be tempted to do,
between history, properly so called, and legend. For the
majority of the Greeks of that time this distinction would
have had no precise meaning. In general, however, it was
from the heroic age that the tragic poets borrowed their
subjects; they drew them from either epic or lyric
poetry, or from local traditions. At all events, the
people had the feeling that these subjects were related
to their race, sometimes perhaps to their own city-state.
The people themselves formed the theme of the drama,
since it represented the adventures of their ancestors,
authentic or imaginary. And when these narratives-in-
action opposed Greeks to barbarians, a national ideal
appeared to them and filled them with pride—an intel-
lectual and moral superiority, a sense of justice, a natural
dignity and humanity. Naturally when Athens was at
war with Sparta, it was less a Greek ideal in general than
a specifically Athenian ideal that interested the public of
Athens and caused its patriotic sentiments to vibrate.
That is why in those periods of crisis and mutual hatred
the poets chose legends which were calculated to bring
out the contrasts between the two city-states to the ad-
vantage of their own. Moreover, the tendency to discover
in the past similarities to the present, to emphasize them
by allusions, and to draw lessons from them, was not
peculiar to those times of war. It resulted from the
fact that the history of a people necessarily leads, at
different intervals, to situations in which analogous senti-
ments manifest themselves.
But the subjects of the tragedies, besides being na-
tional, were also religious. ‘The action which the poet
CULT AND RELIGIOUS MANIFESTATIONS 1038
developed before the eyes of the spectators would have
responded but poorly to their expectations if it had failed
to show them the accomplishment of a divine will. The
incredulous, if such there were among them, constituted
only an insignificant minority ; for to the masses assembled
in the audience the intervention of the gods in human
affairs was not at all a matter of doubt. Moreover, this
public was pleased to have the divine power manifested by
strikingexamples. Sinceit was ever conscious of the omni-
presence of this power in real life, and since its most
constant concern was to divine the wills or the passions of
the gods, on which depended the good or bad fortune
of men, no spectacle could interest it so much as that of
great misfortunes and their supernatural causes. It
devolved upon the poet to make these causes clear to the
public, while at the same time they remained hidden or
obscure to the personages involved in the play. Every
tragic performance thus conceived became for the spec-
tators an occasion for meditation upon human destiny
or, at the very least, for suggestive emotions.
In order that these emotions might be profound, it was
expedient for the drama to bring great destinies into play.
The ancient heroic families, whose dramatic adventures
had been popularized by the epic poets, were precisely
what was necessary. ‘Thru the effect of the reversion to
the past, and thanks to the genius of a few poets, the
men and the events of these legendary ages had acquired
more than human proportions. Moreover, tradition at-
tributed to them passions, crimes, exceptional prosperities
and hardships. Everything related to them bore witness
to the hidden power of fate, the secret force of ancient
maledictions, the futility of calculations pretending to
elude the decrees of the gods, the blindness of ambition,
and the snares concealed behind hopes. Such is the field
104 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
of choice for a tragedy intended to distract the mind
from vulgar thoughts and to place men in the presence
of the gods. Nevertheless, everything properly human
was no less in evidence there. In action or in suffering
the souls of men were revealed in striking traits. Here
we see powerful wills striving for the execution of difficult
undertakings and facing the most formidable dangers;
we see them standing firm against grief, placing all their
forces at the service of immoderate ambitions, and de-
livering themselves with frenzy to the pleasure of ven-
geance; but sometimes also waxing tender, opening their
hearts to pity, or recognizing in the destruction of their
illusions the disregarded laws of justice and moderation.
In these spectacles, however simplified they were by an
art which delighted in clearness, there was a profundity
of religious and moral perspective which has scarcely been
equaled anywhere else.
Scenery of the Tragedy.—We can not fully describe
here the mounting of the Greek tragedy of the fifth
century; it is necessary, however, to recall certain es-
sential features of it, notably the simplicity of the scenery,
the small number of actors involved, and the presence
of a singing and dancing chorus. The Athenian theater
never knew the abuse of material means. It appealed to
the eye only so far as necessary, leaving much to the
imagination of the spectators, which the poetry was
called upon to stimulate. Since the actors were only three
in number, one often saw only two personages on the
stage at one time, never more than three. All tumult,
all confusion, was thus naturally excluded. Reduced to
dialogs, the action could nevertheless be impassioned, even
violent, if the subject demanded it. But such violence,
materially simplified, was by its very nature spiritualized,
as it were; and it was still more so as a result of the as-
CULT AND RELIGIOUS MANIFESTATIONS 105
sociation of song and recitation. In the second half of
the century, especially, the parts sung acquired more im-
portance in the réles; and the vocal melody, accompanied
by the flute, served to convey more vividly the anxieties of
the soul. Thus one drew further away from reality, but
succeeded better in expressing everything that it con-
tained. ‘The same may be said in regard to the chorus.
Having originally been a sort of collective actor, often
playing the principal part, it acquired more and more
the réle of a spectator, sharing in the action by the ex-
pression of sentiments of sympathy or antipathy, but
without taking any real part in it. In this way it be-
came especially well qualified to judge the action, to mark
its various phases, and by its songs to express the senti-
ments which the poet wished to arouse in his audience—
fears or hopes, admiration or reprobation—unless it
served to refresh the audience by brilliant interludes. If
we add to these characteristic features the slight compli-
cation of intrigue, we can not fail to be struck by the
great simplicity of the whole. As often happens, how-
ever, it is probable that the power of the effect produced
was inversely proportionate to the multiplicity of the
means employed.
Educational Value of the Tragedy.—In any case, the
influence of the tragedy upon Hellenic civilization in the
fifth century was great. It was especially at the theater
that many Athenians learned the history of their coun-
try; there, at least, it was duly impressed upon their
minds, since it was actually unfolded, as it were, before
their eyes. And this history, under the legendary and
idealized form which it took in the tragic dramas, sup-
ported their religious sentiment, developed all the in-
stincts, all the ideas, which lie at the foundation of moral
culture—the sense of duty, of honor, of devotion, of
106 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
moderation, and of humanity. On each and every one
in the audience there was imposed, in the presence of these
spectacles which represented an idealized life, the recogni-
tion of ideal values so often obscured in the conflict of
interests and in the complexities of daily reality. Finally,
(and this follows naturally), the instruction of the trag-
edy was also esthetic in its nature. How could master-
pieces such as the plays of Aschylus, Sophocles, and
Euripides have failed to sharpen the perception of beauty
in a public naturally gifted in that direction? How
could they have failed to make it feel the charm of a
composition capable of holding the attention, of produc-
ing contrasts and surprises, and of arousing fear and
pity by means of unexpected catastrophes? How could
they have failed to refine in this public a taste and in-
telligent understanding for poetic language, now bold and
terse, now rich in shades of meaning, adapted to express
tenderness quite as well as rage or hatred, as delightful in
the expression of joy as it was touching in the expression
of sorrow?
The Comedy of the Fifth Century. Its Characteristics.
—If from this tragedy of the fifth century we pass now
to the comedy of the same period, the contrast seems
striking. To religious earnestness are opposed drollery
and profligacy. That a public susceptible of the noblest
and deepest emotions, capable of passionate interest in
that lofty philosophy of life, nevertheless enjoyed plays
abounding in obscene pleasantries and the grossest forms
of abuse, is a fact which in the first place bears witness
to the versatility of the Greek mind, but which is also to
be explained by the history of this dramatic form. The
comedy was born in the rustic festivals pertaining to the
cult of the god of wine, at the Country Dionysia. At
first it was only the festival of humble vine-growers, con-
CULT AND RELIGIOUS MANIFESTATIONS 107
sisting of joyous songs, of symbolic processions, of dances
and masquerades. Dionysus was known as a lover of
drunkenness, of laughter and gaiety, and of sensual
pleasures. One paid homage to him by imitating him.
When this rustic carnival became a literary form at
Athens, patronized by the state, it had to preserve its
original character in order not to deprive the god of the
things that pleased him. This religious reason covered
everything; it explains why no person was offended by
words and actions which anywhere else would have been
looked upon as intolerable. It must be borne in mind,
however, that the comedy, once admitted to the public
competitions, did not long retain this original element.
Not only did it take the form of a work of art by imposing
upon itself certain peculiarities of composition, but it
sought to play a political and social réle, to intervene in
the conflict of opinions, and to pass judgment upon things
and upon men; and it became a moral force which in cer-
tain respects might be compared with the press of our
day, due allowance being made for inevitable differences.
The Element of Comic Fantasy.—That which first of
all strikes the modern reader in each of the extant plays
of Aristophanes, the most remarkable representative of
this Attic comedy of the fifth century, called the “Old
Comedy,” is the place occupied in it by pure fantasy.
Everything here seems to belong to the domain of fairies
—the action, the place, the people, and the situations.
The drama may take place on earth, even at Athens; this
is the case with the Acharnians, the Knights, the Clouds,
the Wasps, the Lysistrata, the Plutus, and the Women in
Parliament ; but it may also be transported from the earth
to Olympus, as in the Peace; it may hover between earth
and the sky, as in the Birds; it may descend to the in-
fernal regions, as in the Frogs. Certain personages are
108 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
gods, more or less travestied; others are animals, simple
allegories; others, finally, are men and women. None
of them, whatever they are, is subject to probability or
to reason. Fantastic projects, comical eccentricities,
marvelous adventures—such are the ordinary features of
the plays which they fill with their mad and exuberant
bustle. In conjunction with them, as in the tragedy,
figures a chorus. ‘The latter likewise, according to the
caprice of the poet, may be composed of beings of any
kind, not only of human personages grotesquely dressed,
but of various animals, of personified conceptions, such
as the Clouds, inhabitants of Hades, including the dead.
Altho the chorus succeeds in saying very wise things, it
is also capable of disporting itself foolishly, of emitting
shrieks and howls, of bounding here and there, of insult-
ing and attacking the personages of the drama, and even
the public. Between the principal scenes of the play
one sees it indulging in licentious dances. Finally, as
a last characteristic feature, it was at certain times cus-
tomary for the poet to discard the fiction which he had
created and to cause this chorus to speak in its own name.
But all this should not lead us to believe that this un-
bridled fantasy degenerated into confusion. ‘Thanks to a
skilled art, on the contrary, all these elements of disorder
were harmoniously organized; and it is truly one of the
most surprising things to find again here, in this free
dramatic form, the qualities of order and moderation
natural to the creations of the Greek mind.
The Satiric Element.—Moreover, with the boldest fan-
tasy there was constantly mingled an element of satire
and consequently of reality. The representation of the
customs, ideas, and infatuations of the day offered the
comic poets a rich field of exploitation. How many ele-
ments of truth were to be found in the majority of the
CULT AND RELIGIOUS MANIFESTATIONS 109
characters, alongside of enormous improbabilities and
drolleries! It was a source of perpetual amusement for
the sharp-witted public to recognize in the play some of
the types familiar to it—the foreigner with his strange-
sounding language, the peasant with his prejudices and
eccentricities, the petty tradespeople, the shopkeepers in
the agora, the hucksters of both sexes, the braggarts, the
blusterers, the simple-minded and the sharpers—an entire
world of people very familiar to those who bustled about
the city, whether at the Pireus or in the environs. The
spectators laughed at them and learned while they laughed
—just as one always learns by observing life. When it
was a question of the small fry, the raillery of the comedy
was neither severe nor malicious; sometimes it even re-
vealed them as very sensible in their simplicity. But
when the attack was on men in the public view, politicians,
sophists, philosophers, fashionable authors, or others, it
assumed the aspect of a pamphlet in action. And this
was not merely incidental to it; on the contrary, it very
often made these biting satires its principal object. From
the time of Cimon the example in this respect was set by
Cratinus; and his successors imitated him. All the lead-
ers of the people saw themselves derided one after an-
other—Pericles more than any other, and after him Cleon,
Hyperbolus, and Cleophon. Such plays of Aristophanes
as the Acharnians and the Knights are above all personal
attacks. In the last-mentioned comedy, as in the Wasps,
the people as a whole were taken to task, severely admon-
ished for their conduct or ridiculed for their stupidity.
Other plays tended to decry philosophy and especially
Socrates, or to lampoon the dramatic innovations of
Euripides. These plays offered severe criticism, which was
often profoundly unjust, sometimes slanderous, and al-
ways animated by violent prejudices, but nevertheless sug-
110 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
gestive insofar as it called attention on many occasions
to defects which were not imaginary. On the whole, we
may say, the comedies were well calculated to awaken re-
flection and the spirit of criticism.
Dramatic Performances outside of Athens.—The taste
for the theater at that time was not peculiar to the
Athenians. Many Greek city-states, and even market
towns, had their more or less regular performances. But
as regards the tragedy, it seems that nowhere else was
there produced a dramatic form essentially different from
that created by the Athenian masters—not even at
Syracuse, where AUschylus achieved a measure of success
similar to that which he achieved in his own country. The
same does not apply, it is true, to comedy. A great poet,
Epicharmus, created at the court of the tyrant Hiero,
and for the people of Syracuse, a form of comic composi-
tion quite different from that which held favor at Athens.
The few fragments of his works which have come down
to us merely serve to show that he combined a keen sense
of reality with a genuinely philosophic turn of mind.
CHAPTER III
SOCIETY AND CUSTOMS
General Aspect of Greek Society in the Fifth Century.
The Classes.—Having surveyed the religious and political
life, we have now to consider the social life, that is to
say, the relations of men to one another, their manner
of living and their customs. In this respect there were
great diversities among the Greek city-states. The
Dorians differed considerably from the Ionians; Sparta
contrasted sharply with Athens. But the fact is that
today Athens alone represents in history what is com-
monly called Hellenic civilization; and that is why, in a
survey such as the present, it is permissible to consider
it alone.
(1) THE ATHENIAN ARISTOCRACY
The Eupatrids.—Athens in the fifth century, entirely
democratic as it had become by virtue of its laws and its
spirit, still had a noble aristocracy the importance of
which, from the standpoint of civilization, remained con-
siderable. It consisted chiefly of the so-called “‘eupatrids.”
These were the descendants of the old families, who for a
long time had held possession of the greater part of the
land and for a number of centuries had predominated in
the government. Proud of their more or less legendary
traditions, they carefully preserved their domestic cults,
the hereditary priesthoods of which could be held only
lll
112 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
by their members, even when some of these cults had been
appropriated by a deme or a phratry. In spite of the
total loss of their political privileges, these eupatrids
owed to the antiquity of their lineage, to these religious
functions, and also to their superior culture, a reputa-
tion which survived the destruction of their power. More-
over, a goodly number of them still possessed important
estates, to say nothing of the movable wealth which they
had been able to acquire by utilization of the land. In
general, it was on these estates, rather than in the city,
that their principal establishments were located. There
they lived in plenty, surrounded by servants and a clientele
of poor people who had not renounced the habit of claim-
ing their patronage. In this way there was perpetuated,
at least in the rural demes, something of the former moral
influence of this class.
The Family.—It was among the eupatrids, naturally,
that the old customs persisted most constantly, and their
influence brought it about that the mass of the people,
by a natural spirit of imitation, got rid of these customs
only by very slow degrees. The head of the family exer-
cised in his home a sort of patriarchal royalty, much
mitigated, of course, by the gradual improvement in the
manners and customs. In theory, at least, it devolved
upon him to command and to administer. The wife was
subjected by law to a legal tutelage, which was trans-
ferred, in case of her widowhood, either to the oldest son,
if he had reached his majority, or to a near relative. In
reality, however, she played her part in the domestic
administration ; usually it was she who directly gave orders
to the slaves and superintended the work of the servants.
Many of the necessaries of life, food as well as clothing,
were still produced in the home with her active participa-
tion or at least under her personal supervision. In the
SOCIETY AND CUSTOMS 113
city she generally led a secluded life, scarcely ever went
out save when accompanied, and visited or received only
women or relatives. It is scarcely necessary to say, how-
ever, that the restrictions laid upon her freedom of action
by custom and by law did not prevent any woman from
exerting an influence the extent of which depended only
upon the value of her personal character.
Education.—The education of the children was looked
upon as an essential duty of the parents, and the law
itself laid an obligation upon them not to neglect it. But
otherwise the State did not intervene. Custom alone
regulated the ways and means. The education of the
girls depended especially upon the mother ; and in general
it was apparently reduced to the acquisition of the most
elementary knowledge and to moral development. Forced
to maintain a rigorous reserve, and frequently married off
at a very young age without being consulted, they de-
veloped their intelligence chiefly by experience and a power
of observation which sharpened their natural acumen.
The faults which are frequently imputed to the Athenian
woman in the comedy and even in the tragedy—frivolity,
gossiping, childish curiosity, indiscretion, lack of candor,
a spirit of intrigue—were undoubtedly due, in large meas-
ure, to the insufficiency of this education.
The education of the boys was more carefully regulated,
but was likewise, on the whole, rather simple. Raised
up to their seventh year by the women, they were then
conducted by their pedagogs, slaves charged with guard-
ing them, into some private school; for in Athens there
was no public school. There they were taught to read, to
write correctly, and to figure; they were made to learn by
heart the works of the national poets; they were initiated
in the elementary practice of singing and of playing the
lyre. If the “grammarian” who gave this instruction
114 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
was truly a teacher, he needed nothing more to awaken
the minds of the children and to arouse their interest in
beautiful things; for what lessons were not to be found
in the Iliad and the Odyssey, in the Works and Days, and
in the songs of the lyric poets? ‘The imagination of the
youthful Greek developed in the midst of the ancient
legends; he acquired his initial experience of life among
the heroes; Achilles and Ulysses were the objects of his
first admiration. The school, however, did not keep him
very long. Yet it is clear that in the well-to-do families
the growing youth prolonged his education by perfecting
himself in music, by reading whatever there was to read
at that time—the poets who were not taken up in school,
as well as the first works of philosophy, history, and
geography, the manuscripts of which were then already
circulating in the Greek world. Nevertheless, the need
of perfecting this knowledge and of organizing it more
effectively was one of the reasons for the success of the
sophists, of whom we shall have something to say further
on. ‘Toward the middle of the century they introduced
two innovations, dialectic and rhetoric. But hitherto
the old education had sufficed, in all its simplicity, to
mould men of high value. At the beginning of their lives
it had provided them with a basis for sound judgment,
a strong moral and patriotic tradition, and a total fund
of knowledge which was sufficient for them. ‘They were
receptive toward experience and revealed a freshness of
mind accompanied by genuine prudence and acumen.
To this development of the mind was added training of
the body, to which all of the Greeks continued to attach
the highest value. The child went to the palestra just as
soon as his age permitted him to do so; and there under
the direction of an experienced “pedotribe” he indulged
in a series of graduated exercises which endowed him with
SOCIETY AND CUSTOMS 115
strength, agility, physical endurance, and courage, as
also with a sense of discipline and of rhythm. A goodly
number of young men passed later from the palestra to
the gymnasium, where they were given practice in athletic
exercises. The highest social classes were probably the
ones which furnished the most athletes properly so called;
for aristocratic names abound in the lists of victors at
the great Panhellenic games. We may add that the prac-
tice of horsemanship was also much in vogue among the
well-to-do families.
This twofold education produced, accordingly, both
robust bodies and cultivated minds; those who received
its benefits as fully as possible were truly men, in the
broadest sense of the word. It is surely due in part to
this advantage that the Athenian aristocracy was able to
resist for so long a time the causes of disintegration
which menaced it. It provided the Athenian army with
its cavalry, and often with its leaders; and sometimes,
in spite of distrust, it even gave leaders to the democracy.
The State did not relinquish its claims upon the future
citizen until the end of his adolescence. Having passed
his eighteenth year, he entered the class of the ephebes.
Then he learned the military profession; for every
Athenian citizen was a soldier. For two years he was
bound to a service which made a vigorous and trained
hoplite of him; and at the end of these two years he
entered into the full possession of his political rights and
took the oath of arms.
Occupations and Pleasures.—Once he had become a full-
fledged man, what was the nature of the rich Athenian’s
life? An important part of it was given over to his par-
ticipation in public affairs, liturgies, and official com-
missions with which he was charged, sometimes against
his will. Another part was devoted to the administration
116 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
of his estates. An active master had to supervise the
management of these, even when he entrusted the im-
mediate direction to a chosen slave whom he made his
superintendent. In order to derive any profit from a
rather unproductive soil, it was necessary for him to keep
an eye on everything, to oversee and regulate the proc-
ess of cultivation, to make constant improvements, and
to watch very closely the sale or the utilization of the
products. Nevertheless, there remained hours of leisure
for the landed proprietor, and these he cultivated par-
ticularly ; for was not leisure one of the privileges which
set him apart from those who were attached to a
profession? Hunting, horseback riding, and bodily exer-
cises occupied him agreeably one after the other. The
hours of rest were given over to intercourse with friends,
to walks, to conversation, and some of them to reading;
for we know that in the fifth century the book trade was
beginning to develop and that already private libraries
were being formed. Among cultivated people the exchange
of ideas was becoming more and more active and interest-
ing, according as knowledge increased and as a thousand
new questions concerning science, morality, and politics
came up for discussion. There was much friendly. con-
versation at Athens. The people were very fond of social
gatherings, and most of the rich homes were bounti-
fully hospitable. Banquets were very frequent; and since
custom did not permit women in good standing to take
part in any function in the company of men, the latter
enjoyed a freedom at these banquets of which they took
full advantage. In these joyous reunions the wine-cups
were filled generously, and even licentiousness was not con-
sidered degrading. There was music, singing, some-
times dancing; drinking songs followed, each of the
revelers having to contribute in turn. To this were often
SOCIETY AND CUSTOMS 117
added various diversions, such as pantomimes and acro-
batics; one listened to the sweet melodies of the flute.
Moreover, it was not uncommon for the participants in
these reunions, while preserving something of their gaiety,
to have recourse to half-serious, half-playful discussions,
wherein the piquant grace of the Attic mind found an op-
portunity to assert itself. We find charming examples
of this in certain well-known works of Plato and
Xenophon.
Altogether, whatever may have been the defects and the
prejudices of this aristocracy, it was none the less an
elite, a particularly necessary and precious thing in a
democracy. ‘The influence which it exerted in the fifth
century upon the arts, upon letters, and upon customs,
was certainly beneficent. It kept the public mind on a
very high level, and it gave the city-state some of its
most remarkable men in all branches of activity.
(2) THE POPULAR MASSES IN ATHENS
The Middle Class and the Lower Classes.—This su-
perior class, however, constituted only a small minority
of the population. Below it from the point of view of
general esteem, but above it from the point of view of
effective power, was the populace, that is to say, a
large middle class and.the lower classes, both living
partly in the city itself and partly in the surrounding
country.
The Country Population.—Attica, in spite of the in-
crease of its urban population in the fifth century, al-
ways had a large number of small landowners, who culti-
vated their own land with the help of a few day-laborers
or slaves, and who were sober, economical, hard-working
people. Their attachment to their deme and to the
118 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
piece of land from which they derived their subsistence
was equalled only by their fondness for the old customs
and traditional ideas. Scarcely ever coming to the city
except to go to market or to attend one or another of the
great festivals, they participated but irregularly in the
public deliberations, still less in the functions of the State,
and in those of the tribunals. In the things of the spirit
they were but slightly interested, for they had neither
sufficient instruction nor sufficient leisure to occupy them-
selves with them. Thanks to the genius of the race,
however, and to the influences it exerted upon them, they
were lacking neither in acumen nor in taste. ‘They con-
stituted the conservative element in the republic, strongly
devoted to the democratic institutions, but often distrust-
ful of the leaders of the urban democracy and of in-
novations of all kinds which the city looked upon with
favor. Moreover, it was no doubt to them that the
comedy made its appeal, in the dramatic performances
which they came in large numbers to witness, when it ridi-
culed the men of the day or those affectations or liberties
which ran counter to the accepted usages; but this did not
prevent it from amusing also the townspeople at the ex-
pense of this worthy countryfolk, whose rusticity it
jocosely exaggerated.
The City Population.—The city, as a matter of fact,
comprised a quite different population. There people of
all sorts met and mingled, to say nothing of the foreigners
who flocked thither in ever-increasing numbers. ‘There
one saw manufacturers of arms, of furniture, of divers
utensils; employers and workers in many industries who
combined the good taste peculiar to the Athenians with
technical skill. They included architects, painters, sculp-
tors, goldsmiths, potters, blacksmiths, curriers, weavers
and fullers, dyers and perfumers—in short, all those who
SOCIETY AND CUSTOMS 119
produced the many articles, renowned for their excellence,
which Athens either exported or kept to supply its own
wants. There were located the shops where many of
them worked, assisted by free artisans or skillful slaves,
while others looked only after the general management
and left the immediate supervision of the practical
operations to some intelligent freeman in whom they had
learned to place their trust. These workshops, however,
were restricted in size. Usually there were only ten or
twelve workers, often less, rarely more than twenty or
thirty. The equipment was very simple; consequently,
there was nothing which resembled our modern factories.
Altogether, there was no working class such as exists
today in almost every country. On the other hand, there
were a number of small employers, scarcely distinguished
from their employees, who had very nearly the same mode
of life, the same habits and customs.
Like industry, commerce had undergone a rapid de-
velopment in Athens in the fifth century. In particular,
the exports of oil and the imports of wheat had given
rise to a large business activity, productive of wealth.
Nevertheless, it was rather the small or medium-sized
business which occupied the major part of the urban
population. Often the stall or store adjoined the work-
shop, and the products were sold by the same persons
who made them; but there were also numerous dealers
or retailers who sold their wares in the market-place. In
order to satisfy the needs of these various kinds of com-
mercial activity, but especially those of big business, there
arose in the fifth century a new class of men of affairs,
the bankers, who negotiated either the exchange of money,
rendered necessary by the diversity of the monetary
types in circulation, or the operations of credit, indis-
pensable to exporters. The bankers also set up their
120 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
tables in the open market in the center of the city, so
that they might always be at the service of clients. But
as for the most important transactions, these were con-
ducted at home. And it was around the agora, too, that
the barber-shops were located, where one learned the news
of the day—inexhaustible sources of scandal and gossip.
Taken as a whole, this populace was notable for its
vivacity, its ready intelligence, its sprightliness, its pi-
quant sayings, as also for the mobility of its humor.
Not entirely free from coarseness, it nevertheless pos-
sessed, in a remarkable degree, a taste for the beautiful, a
natural acuteness, and an instinctive aversion to all empty
ostentation. It was able to appreciate the works of its
artists and poets; it prized simple elegance as well as
clever raillery. Accustomed to the transaction of busi-
ness, it was not lacking in judgment when it had means
of informing itself. The danger to which it was exposed
was that of allowing itself to be seduced by arguments
more ingenious than substantial, by clever speeches to
which it delighted in listening, and by everything which
touched its sensibilities or charmed its imagination. But
after all, between the often backward aristocrats and
the two progressive innovators the populace constituted,
im general, the best force of equilibrium which was op-
posed to revolutions and guaranteed a certain continuity
ito the policy of the State.
The Population of the Pireus——The same observa-
‘tions do not apply to the population of the Pirzus, which
was more turbulent and less hampered by traditions.
"There too, no doubt, were great business men, heads of
important commercial houses; but the majority of them
were metics, that is, resident foreigners who did not form
part of the citizen body. The bulk of the inhabitants
of the Pireus consisted of those engaged in work con-
SOCIETY AND CUSTOMS 123
nected with the port, employees of the docks and ship-
yards, brokers and sailors, with whom were mixed a mot-
ley crowd of people from across the water—Greeks from
the Aigean islands and Asia Minor, from Sicily, Italy,
Syria, Egypt, and Thrace; merchants and sailors from
Pontus and distant colonies; barbarians from different
Mediterranean shores—each bringing thither his lan-
guage, his customs, and his superstitions. In daily con-
tact with these men from foreign lands, the Athenians
of the port were themselves imbued with a new spirit,
becoming more indifferent to the established order, more
open to changes, and more adventurous. They con-
stituted the restless element in the republic, thru the
medium of which many foreign things were little by little
introduced into the city.
General Aspect of the Social Life in Athens.—On the
whole, no Greek city resembled the great modern capitals
more than Athens, altho it was a comparatively small
city. One found there the most varied tendencies, all
kinds of minds, and all types of characters—a thousand
divergences which not only added something agreeable
and piquant to the social intercourse, but which at the
same time, by calling forth comparisons, stimulated the
intellect, sharpened judgments, and gave the freest play
to all the faculties. And that is why Athens attracted
foreigners so strongly. Nobody failed to feel at home
there; all Greece was represented there—or, better said,
all the values of the Greek mind were as if mustered and
concentrated there.
Slavery.—Even slavery at Athens was not entirely
what it was elsewhere. Altho the Athenian law did not
recognize any rights as belonging to the slave, it never-
theless protected his life; and in a considerable number
of families the domestic slave, if he was fortunate enough
122 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
to belong to humane masters, and if he himself was in-
dustrious, honest, and submissive, could lead a very toler-
able existence. ‘The ancient tragedies introduce to us
wet-nurses who in some measure have become confidantes,
almost humble friends, of their mistresses. Moreover, a
goodly number of the slaves employed in industry, com-
merce, agriculture, and in the banks, succeeded by their
intelligence in making themselves indispensable, in gain-
ing the full confidence of their masters, who then made
them superintendents, managers of workshops, and sub-
directors; and later, having won their freedom, the former
slaves often associated with their masters in business.
Nevertheless, the natural vices of the system prevailed.
Not only did the public slaves who worked in the mines,
and those on whom the most ardous tasks were imposed
in the rural districts, have much to endure; but all of
them, without exception, if their masters were brought
to trial, could according to the law be surrendered by
them to the opposing party in order to be put to the
question. All were liable to cruel or degrading punish-
ments—to the whip and to various forms of torture.
Moreover, being dispersed thruout the country and no-
where in a position to organize their forces, as was later
the case in Rome, it was impossible for them to revolt.
Their only recourse when they felt themselves at the limit
of their endurance was to take to flight at the risk of
being hounded like beasts and of finding refuge nowhere.
Finally, force, if not interest, too often compeled them to
become the accomplices, or the victims of the vices, of their
masters. The historian has no right to conceal this dis-
tressing aspect of the most brilliant civilization known to
the ancient world.
CHAPTER IV
INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY AND WORKS
OF ART
(1) PHILOSOPHY AND SCIENCE
Intensity of the Philosophical Movement in the Fifth
Century.—In this society of the fifth century intellectual
activity was very great. We have already seen to what
extent the enigma of the world had interested the Ionian
physiologers in the sixth century. Multiplying their ef-
forts to explain the formation and life of the universe,
they had brought together a number of observations which
were the first elements of physics, astronomy, meteorology,
and biology; and at the same time they had inaugurated
the science of geography and perfected the fundamental
notions of mathematics. The fifth century developed the
scientific work of the sixth century in all its forms, and
it also prepared the ground for that of the fourth cen-
tury, the renown of which very nearly obscures its own.
In the field of science it is natural that those who come
last surpass their predecessors ; but if one measures genius
less by complex results, in which it is not easy to discern
the part attributable to each individual, than by creative
power, it would seem that the great thinkers of the fifth
century, Parmenides, Heraclitus, Empedocles, Anaxa-
goras, and Socrates, were not inferior to a Plato or an
Aristotle.
Parmenides and Zeno.—The Ionians, trusting in the.
123
124 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
evidence of the senses, had not sought to rise above the
data with which these senses provided them. None of
them questioned themselves regarding the fundamental
conception of existence. It fell to the honor of Parmenides
of Elea to discover the importance of this problem, al-
ready perceived but not thoroly investigated by Xe-
nophanes, his immediate predecessor and possibly his
teacher. Without inquiring whether it did not transcend
the scope of human intelligence, he applied himself to the
problem fervently and derived from it the elements of a
metaphysics deeply impressed by the great acuteness of
his mind. The Ionian hypothesis led to the admission,
for the purpose of explaining the transformations of
matter, that the latter could be divided into extremely
small particles, escaping by their very minuteness our
imperfect senses. But reason refuses to conceive either
a cubic or a linear measure, which can not, theoretically,
be divided in two. Infinite divisibility seems to be, there-
fore, the necessary consequence of this conception. But
what became of the idea of continuity then? For if the
particles are distinct, there must be a separation between
them ; and in order that they may move about, this separa-
tion must be a vacuum. But without continuity, how is
it possible to understand the mutual actions and reac-
tions of these particles? Moreover, this reasoning ap-
plies to motion as well as to matter. By resolving mo-
tion into infinity we destroy its very essence. It was
in the name of logic, therefore, that Parmenides was led
to deny the existence of a vacuum, that of the divisibility
of matter, and finally that of motion. Reducing these
conceptions to illusions of the senses, he affirms that in-
herent unity of being which is indivisible and immovable
—except that subsequently he explains the sensible illu-
sions and coordinates them as conceptions of the imagina-
INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY 125
tion. The very boldness of this idealistic protest against
a reality which he declared to consist merely of appear-
ances, was destined to arouse in its author a dogmatic
ardor which was clearly manifested in his teachings. He
set forth his system in a poem of which several fragments
have been preserved—a mixture of magnificent visions and
obscure abstractions, in which there is revealed a superior
personality struggling both with the material difficulties of
a language still intolerant of demonstrations of this kind
and with the incredulity which common sense opposed to
his uncompromising idealism.
Parmenides undoubtedly wrote in the first years of the
fifth century. Zeno, his pupil, made himself even during
the lifetime of his teacher, and after him, the propagator
of his doctrine. But less anxious to develop it than to
defend it, he seems to have applied himself especially to
refuting, by means of subtle dialectic, the ideas opposed
to it. The arguments which he presented against in-
finite divisibility and motion have remained celebrated.
Again in Plato and Aristotle we find evidence of the aston-
ishment which these arguments aroused in Athens when
Zeno had gone there to seek a curious audience. We can
not doubt that they created a taste for discussion the
influence of which soon made itself felt in all cultivated
circles.
Heraclitus.—Nevertheless, at that same time the Ionian
doctrine found an illustrious continuator in the person
of Heraclitus of Ephesus. Persisting, like his predeces-
sors, in the conception of a primary substance subject
to a series of transformations, he had been led to believe
that this substance was fire, which he considered the most
subtile and the most changing element. The greatest
innovation in his system, and that which gave it a par-
ticular beauty, was the eternal rhythm which he made the
126 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
law of these transformations. In admirably vigorous and
concise prose, in sententious phrases the very obscurity of
which conferred a sort of majesty upon them, he told
how fire was transformed into air, air into water, and
water into earth, and simultaneously, by an inverse proc-
ess, how earth was changed to water, water to air, and
air to fire—a perpetual oscillation, an indefinite succes-
sion of apparent deaths which were in fact so many births,
codrdinated movements “upwards” and “downwards,”
from which resulted a universal harmony composed of
equivalences and compensations. One readily understands
that such a thinker, to some extent dazzled by his own
vision, acquired the reputation, by his oracular style, of
being an interpreter of a wisdom inaccessible to the
masses.
Empedocles and Anaxagoras.—Nevertheless, neither of
these two world systems, the one founded upon reason,
pure and simple, and the other upon a brilliant hypothesis,
could satisfy free minds which were rendered acute for
criticism. Deprived of practical means of experimenta-
tion, they sought to make up for it by ingenious probabili-
ties; and yet in this effort their thought, altho boldly
disengaging itself from the ancient mythology, always
took, by the force of habit, a more or less mythical turn.
So it happened that almost at the same time a Sicilian,
Empedocles of Agrigentum, and an Ionian, Anaxagoras
of Clazomene, renouncing, like Parmenides, the concep-
tion of a substance susceptible of indefinite transforma-
tions, nevertheless attempted, like Heraclitus, to ascribe
to the life of the universe an immanent order which took
account both of its variations and of its regularity.
Both thought that its principle was to be found in a
rotatory movement, the action of which they defined with
the help of various combinations. Empedocles distin-
INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY 127
guished four elements—water, earth, air, and fire—which
were no longer for him, as they were for the Ionians,
successive and temporary forms of a primary substance.
Rather did he conceive them as eternally separate and
distinct substances; and his poet’s imagination saw them
coming together or drawing apart, one after another,
under the influence of two other elements of a mythologi-
cal nature, hatred and love. From this, thru the various
phases which he described in verses now brilliant and now
painfully didactic, resulted an endless cycle of integra-
tions and disintegrations. In this grandiose and com-
plex work, as in the broad intelligence of its author, all |
the sciences of the time, even medicine, found their place,
as did also a number of superstitions borrowed from
Pythagorean or Orphic mysticism. Following a different
course, Anaxagoras, possessed of a more positive genius,
conceived matter as a sort of dust formed of all the ir-
reducible substances which enter into the composition of
bodies; and he taught that the principle which set them
apart by a rotatory movement was an element radically
distinct from all the rest, the only one which was never
mixed with the others. This element he called Reason
(Nous), meaning thereby, no doubt, a sort of impersonal
intelligence, an obscure force, the nature of which he does
not seem to have defined exactly, possibly owing to the
fact that he himself did not have a very clear idea of it.
So much is certain, at least, that he represented it as
a creator of order and organization. Himself learned
and possessed of a passion for observation, he reviewed,
in a work written in Ionian prose, the principal phenomena
of nature, making it a point to interpret them rationally
and boldly discarding all the mythological explanations
which were still current around him.
The Atomists. Leucippus and Democritus.—In op-
128 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
position to this conception of a guiding principle there
developed the conception of Chance, represented by the
Tonians, Leucippus and Democritus of Abdera. For them
the genesis of the world became a purely fortuitous thing.
They imagined infinitely tenuous, indivisible particles
meeting in empty space, and called these particles atoms.
All identical in nature, these atoms differed, according to
them, only in volume, weight, and form. Carried along in
incessant motion, it was necessary, in order that the
hypothesis might be conceivable, for the atoms to collide
with one another, to aggregate, and thus to enter into
multiple combinations, whence resulted all the bodies
existing in nature. Considered by itself, this system,
while professing to explain the enigma of the world, mani-
festly did little more than propose a new hypothesis no
less enigmatical. But in revealing under the infinite
diversity of effects the possible simplicity of the causes
and the means, and especially in rejecting everything
that still savored of mythology in science, it turned men’s
minds in the right direction, Democritus, moreover, did
not adhere any more than Anaxagoras and Empedocles
to a synthetic theory; like them, he applied himself to
diligent observation of the facts, eagerly desirous of
relating them all to his doctrine.
The Sceptics.—In the presence of these divergent at-
tempts, none of which led to decisive proof, it was in-
evitable that scepticism should gain entrance into a
certain number of minds. In some instances we see it
appear in a modified form of relativity. Such was the
case with the celebrated Protagoras of Abdera, who taught
that absolute truth does not exist, meaning thereby, no
doubt, that every assertion is dependent upon the nature
of the human mind in general, and further upon the scope
of each intelligence in particular. In other cases this
INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY 129
scepticism went much further, if we are to believe the
evidences of it in the Sicilian, Gorgias, according to which
it would seem that the latter taught absolute and system-
atic doubt. It is confirmed, therefore, that the discus-
sions of the philosophers did not take place without in-
jecting some trouble into the world of the intellectuals.
On the whole, however, it was a trouble which had prolific
results; for these conflicts of ideas vivified in a singular
manner the activity of the mind and even led men fre-
quently to resort to first-hand observation. ‘The incon-
testable fact is that these efforts of philosophy were
accompanied by a general progress of the sciences.
Hippocrates.—Medicine, in particular, was distin-
guished at that time by a man of the first order, Hippo-
crates of Cos. Altho it is difficult today to determine
with accuracy what is properly attributable to him in
the collection of writings which bear his name, the im-
portance of his réle is none the less indisputable. On
the one hand, all the evidences of antiquity agree in award-
ing to him the title of “‘the father of medicine’; and on
the other hand, the majority of the writings referred to
are in any case imbued with his spirit. We owe it to him
that medicine ceased to be a simple traditional practice, a
rather confused mixture of sane experience and supersti-
tions, and began to follow resolutely the course of obser-
vation and to enlarge the.domain thereof. To define and
classify the forms of disease, to relate them to various
temperaments, to study closely their phases, to note
scrupulously the peculiar effect of each remedy and the
slower effect of a prescribed regimen, to discern the in-
fluence of waters, of air, of temperature, of climate—
such, in a broad way, was his work. All told, it was the
organization of a method; and from this method resulted
all the subsequent progress.
130 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
(2) THE SOPHISTS. RHETORIC AND DIALECTIC
Rhetoric.—Alongside of scientific philosophy, and to a
certain extent under its influence, there were developed
at the same time two branches which aimed at more
practical results; these were rhetoric and dialectic.
By instinct the Greek was a talker, an orator, and a
dialectician. The Jliad and the Odyssey bear witness to
the fact that a certain art of composing a speech, and
consequently of reasoning, existed as far back as the time
of Homer. In the following centuries political eloquence
gained considerably in experience. To be sure, it was
not lacking in the statesmen of the seventh and sixth cen-
turies, any more than it failed the men who directed the
Athenian democracy at the time of the Persian Wars;
only at that time nobody was yet prudent enough to
formulate its rules in writing or to make it the object of
regular teaching. It was toward the middle of the fifth
century that some Sicilians got the idea of codifying the
rules, especially for the use of pleaders. In the first
treatises edited by the practicians, a Corax and a Tisias,
rhetoric is presented as the art of winning a case in court,
good or bad; and it consisted of a body of practical pre-
cepts and examples by means of which the student learned
how to lend plausibility to any advantageous argument,
whether it was true or false. ‘There was something about
it that greatly attracted people. Then came another
Sicilian, the same Gorgias to whom reference has just been
made, a man of an entirely different type of mind, a
philosopher as well as a practician, who appropriated
their idea and made its fortune. Not only did he perfect
their process of argumentation to a remarkable degree
by virtue of his great discernment, but at the same time
INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY 131
by freeing rhetoric he showed it capable of embellishing
all the forms of public speaking. His ambition was to
create an oratorical style equivalent in prose to that of
the poets, with its appropriate ornaments, its rhythm,
and its effects of skillfully handled words. The examples
which he gave of such a style called forth an admiration
which was not due to mere infatuation; for altho his
manner, in its extreme form, led to a rather puerile verbal
mechanism, one can not deny that it was of a nature cal-
culated to provoke in strong and sane minds a concise
analysis of ideas, which made it possible to clarify such
ideas and to render them effective, either by weighing
them off against one another or by relating them by
means of ingenious parallelisms.
Dialectic.—This rapid development of rhetoric nat-
urally called forth a corresponding development of
dialectic, to which the Greeks were not less inclined.
The above-mentioned arrival in Athens of Zeno of Elea
seems to have been an event of epoch-making importance
in this regard. His method was no less calculated to
fascinate the Athenian youth than was the paradoxical
novelty of what he said. It was a rapid, condensed, en-
tirely logical argumentation, which addressed itself only
to reason, and which in a few words confounded his
adversaries. It amused the Athenians greatly to see his
opponents entangled in his quibbles, and many could not
resist the temptation to imitate him. He interested them
all the more in that he touched upon essential ideas, the
very principles of knowledge, with the result that the
most legitimate curiosity, the search for fundamental
truths, was awakened in those who listened to him, as
well as a taste for this sort of word-parrying—lively,
brilliant, paradoxical, and well adapted to the natural
subtlety of the race. All that young Athens needed in
132 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
order to enter resolutely upon this new course was a num-
ber of teachers imbued with the same spirit. The oc-
casion was good; they came to the city from all sides.
The Sophists.—The young people of the upper classes,
desirous of taking part in the public life or simply of,
enlarging their intellectual horizon, until that time had
had too many things to learn by themselves. Hence they
now welcomed those who offered to teach them. 'Thus it
came about that the term “sophist,” previously applied
to anybody who possessed a rare and special knowledge,
was thereafter applied to persons who made it a business
to communicate their learning to others for pay.
Among these sophists of the new kind, some were phi-
losophers, others, in greater numbers, were teachers of
rhetoric, others in still greater numbers were grammarians
and philologists, some were mathematicians and tech-
nologists—to say nothing of those who pretended to
universal knowledge. In this group were men of attain-
ment, such as Protagoras of Abdera, Gorgias of Leontini,
and Prodicus of Ceos, to mention only the most cele-
brated; and there were also some charlatans. ‘These
sophists were forced by their very profession to lead a
nomadic life. Athens, the center of the intellectual
movement, no doubt attracted and held them more than
any other city; none of them, however, seems to have
been permanently established there. ‘They found it to
their advantage not to allow the curiosity of their public
to grow dull. Generally they condensed in a few lessons,
for a definite price, what they proposed to teach; and
they announced, or allowed people to believe, that these
reduced courses were sufficient to make educated men of
their hearers. Therein lay the greatest defect of their
profession. Learning became a sort of commodity which
could be sold by the piece at a fixed price.. Such instruc-
INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY 133
tion, distributed and received at random, could be neither
very serious nor very profound. And yet, these brilliant
lecturers, full of new views and suggestions, propagated
ideas and knowledge which otherwise would have remained
the share of only a few men. A certain amount of phi-
losophy, political theory, ethics, and various sciences,
was thus spread abroad, at first in the upper classes, but
afterwards in the general public.
State of Mind in the Second Half of the Fifth Century.
—As one may surmise, this influx of new ideas did not fail
to produce a certain confusion in men’s minds. Many
intelligent men in the second half of the century did not
know just where they stood in matters of religion or
even of morality. The Greek mind had need of examin-
ing itself, of eliminating many antiquated things, of lay-
ing aside also, at least temporarily, certain investigations
for which it was not yet ripe; and also, on the other
hand, of finding certain solid truths and elaborating a
method for their development. ‘This was a task as diffi-
cult as it was necessary, since it called for an intelligence
sufficiently pliant and acute to penetrate all questions,
and at the same time sufficiently firm to avoid losing it-
self in them. These rare qualities were combined in
Socrates.
(3). socRATES
The Man. His Vocation.—He was, however, a man
of only very modest condition; but his natural genius, his
desire for knowledge, and his ardent love of what is true
and good, made up for everything else which he could
possibly lack. Early abandoning every personal occupa-
tion, and satisfied in his poverty, he thought he heard an
inner voice confirming the vocation which led him to seek
134 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
the meaning and the purpose of life, in order to guide
his own conduct and that of others. Hence this vocation
appeared to him as the order of a divine will. But far
from deriving any sense of pride from that, he proposed
less to teach than to learn; for he wished to instruct
others only by instructing himself. There is no doubt
that he had read much, listened much, and also meditated
much; and sometimes it seemed as if he were lost in his
reflections. But it was especially by causing those who
knew, or who had the reputation of knowing, to express
their thoughts, that he exercised his mental powers.
Endowed with a most critical mind, he was never deceived
by appearances. Very quick, he perceived how much
illusion there was in the desires of the majority of men,
and in the calculations which led them to act; and on the
other hand, lending ear to those who gave themselves out
as teachers and guides, he became aware of the inaccuracy
of their ideas. From this he concluded that ignorance of
oneself was the most common evil, and that the necessary
condition of good conduct, as also of happiness, was to
know oneself well.
His Method.—Possessed by this idea, he created for
himself a method which became one of the most precious
acquisitions of the human mind. It consisted fundamen-
tally of a patient search for truths, which too often
escape the sluggish mind deceived by vain words—a search
which he conducted by means of analysis, comparison, and
induction. ‘The form he gave it was so simple that at
first it concealed its own profundity. No oratorical ex-
positions after the manner of the sophists were involved ;
he thought that a man who merely speaks always has a
chance of erring and of being only imperfectly under-
stood. In place of the continuous speech, accordingly,
he substituted a logical series of precise questions—a
INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY $35
slow but sure course whereby one never advanced a single
step before reaching an agreement on the preceding idea,
which had first to be made perfectly clear. In reality,
the questioner, who was Socrates himself, as a rule could
scarcely have failed to form an opinion in advance, at
least provisionally, regarding the subject under discus-
sion; but far from affirming this opinion from the very
outset and upholding it at all costs afterwards, he sub-
jected it faithfully to a control which he endeavored to
make as rigorous as possible. Altogether, he felt satis-
fied only if his questions led his interlocutor to declare
as his personal conviction the idea under discussion. It
seemed then that the latter had discovered it of his own
accord in the recesses of his mind, where until then it
had remained latent. That is why Socrates jestingly
called his method maieutic, that is to say, the obstetrical
means of bringing forth ideas from men’s minds.
Plato and Xenophon show us in their Socratic dialogs
how he practiced his method every day and everywhere.
From the early morning he could be seen walking up and
down the public square. He deemed every occasion good
to stop people and engage them in conversation. It
mattered little what their social condition or their age
was; artisans, merchants, politicians, sophists, young peo-
ple, and full-grown men—all had to stop to be thus ques-
tioned by this indefatigable inquirer. Nor was it easy
to escape him; for his lively humor, his insinuating and
insidious grace, the charming irony with which he avowed
his ignorance and demanded instruction, rendered flight
almost impossible. Everybody in Athens knew him; and
every day his influence increased. Without being a
schoolmaster, without professing anything whatsoever, lit-
tle by little he gathered followers around him, especially
young people interested in dialectic; and the latter be-
136 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
came his pupils without being formally known as such.
His Essential Ideas.—This method quite often led those
who practiced it, and Socrates himself first of all, either
to a feeling of doubt or to an avowal of ignorance.
By no means, however, did he acquiesce in scepticism.
On the contrary, from his conversations there emerges a
doctrine which may still be defined, even today, by its
essential features.
It was founded upon a new conception of philoso-
phy. Cicero ingeniously characterized it by saying that
Socrates ‘“‘brought philosophy down from heaven to
earth.” Rejecting all speculation regarding the origin
of things, regarding motion, regarding the nature of
existence, which perhaps disturbed his religious instinct
and in any case seemed to him too ambitious for human
intelligence, he established the principle that the proper
task of philosophy was the study of man and his im-
mediate interests. If this attitude had ultimately pre-
vailed, it would have had the grave consequence of
arresting the development of the physical and natural
sciences. But its immediate effect was fortunate for the
reason that it resulted in concentrating the efforts of a
few powerful minds on questions of prime importance—
questions which the ill regulated activity of the sophists
had scarcely more than superficially touched upon.
How did Socrates conceive this study of man? For
him the object of all human existence was happiness;
so that the science of happiness seemed to him the es-
sential object of life. But he firmly believed that no
happiness was possible outside of virtue, and that virtue,
on the other hand, almost sufficed in itself to procure
happiness. According to him, what prevented the ma-
jority of men from making themselves happy by means of
virtue was their illusions and their prejudices. He was
INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY 137
convinced that, if they once saw to what extent moral
goodness is profitable, they would practice goodness quite
naturally. All his efforts, therefore, tended to clarify
these fundamental notions by showing the precise nature
of each of the virtues, such as wisdom, temperance, cour-
age, justice, candor, loyalty, disinterestedness, devoted
friendship, and abnegation, and by discovering in each of
them this same character of social and personal utility.
On the other hand, he pointed out how much illusion and
ignorance there was in the opposite vices and defects, espe-
cially in ambition and in the desire for wealth. Contrary
to the traditional morality of the time, he even went so far
as to deny that it was ever permissible to render evil for
evil. In fact, thanks to the nobility of his character,
some of the most splendid of modern Christian ideals
emerged from the depths of Greek civilization.
And it was also a new religion, perhaps without his
wishing it to be so and without his being very clearly
conscious of it. The earlier philosophy, in revealing
in the life of the universe the play of great natural
forces, had in fact destroyed the entire structure of the
traditional mythology; but by its very nature it was
almost inaccessible to the majority of minds. It was
properly a philosophy of scholars. On the other hand,
it offered nothing to religious minds to take the place of
what it had destroyed. Socrates, however, while reject-
ing the coarser elements of the mythology, remained loyal
to the traditional cult and to certain fundamental parts
of the common belief. If he admitted neither the conflicts
nor the passions of the gods, nor anything at all that
degraded them, he did not suffer anybody to doubt their
intervention in human affairs. He believed in their
justice, in their goodness, and in their perfection, as
firmly as he believed in their power. Thus without break-
138 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
ing with polytheism, he manifestly tended toward a sort
of monotheism. His philosophy therefore contains the
essential elements of a religion closely bound up with
morality and consequently of a nature calculated to sat-
isfy minds which could not do without the supernatural.
Inevitably destined to become more distinct and to un-
dergo further development with his successors, it heralded
the end of one of the great epochs of human thought.
(4) THE GREAT POETS OF THE FIFTH CENTURY
Reaction of Philosophy.—This profound intellectual
activity naturally had a more or less appreciable reaction
upon the majority of the contemporaries. It is interest-
ing to trace the evidence of this in the works of the most
important of them, especially in those of the most illus-
trious poets of the period, which was so rich in poetry.
But that would be to detract somewhat from the credit
due them; for these great minds were not merely echoes.
Each of them, indeed, was a philosopher in his way by
virtue of having his own conception of humanity and of
life; and this personal philosophy is no less worthy of
attention. 3
Pindar.— Among them the Theban, Pindar, is probably
the one who by education, environment, and traditions of
the kind to which he owed his glory, remained most foreign
to philosophical speculations properly so called. The
basis of his ideas still belongs to the sixth century; his
moral sentiment is very nearly that of Solon, Theognis,
and the sages. Nevertheless, he is distinguished from
them, not only by the brilliance with which his lyric
genius embellished his thoughts, but also by a loftiness and
a profundity which denote a more extensive and more
penetrating reflection. Whether he is correcting the
INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY 139
legends in order to adapt them to a saner morality,
whether he is representing the divine power by images
which enlarge it magnificently, or whether again he is
reminding the princes, in celebrating their victories, of the
laws of human destiny, we feel in listening to him that he
sees things from a higher plane and that he thinks more
forcibly. The intellectual heir of an earlier age, he, too,
nevertheless partook largely of the inspirations which at
that time permeated the entire Greek world.
Aischylus.—The same influence is much more percep-
tible in the Athenian Aischylus, his contemporary. If the
latter is with good reason looked upon as the creator of
the Greek tragedy, it is perhaps due not so much to the ma-
terial improvements for which the theater was indebted to
him or to the more discerning structure of his plays, as it
is to the moral value which he was able to give to his
dramatic action. In each of the pathetic situations with
which the legends provided him, his strong meditative mind
perceived a question propounded to the human conscience.
Consequently, the conflicts among the gods, like the play
of passions which filled the souls of the heroic characters,
were for him merely poetic motives calculated to excite
pity, admiration, or fear. Each of his tragedies con-
tains amoral problem. Accepting the old beliefs as to the
jealousy of the gods, the ineluctible power of fate, the
hereditary transmission .of ancient maledictions, and
the collective responsibility of generations, he delighted
in showing the human will in some manner following a
sorrowful course thru the midst of these mysterious forces,
which dominated it without smothering it. And it was
truly a philosophy which he thus developed—a philosophy
without any precise doctrine, raising more questions than
it was able to answer, and yet directed in a general way
toward the idea that wrong-doing calls inevtiably for pun-
140 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
ishment, and toward the condemnation of pride and of
violence.
Sophocles.—Sophocles, who, after Auschylus exerted a
not less profound influence upon the Athenian soul, was in-
spired by the same general ideas. But those mysterious
forces which he, like his predecessor, recognized, seemed
in his dramas to fall into the background; altho always
present, they were more concealed. Moreover, the senti-
ments of his personages and their characters were un-
furled, so to speak, more freely. On the one hand, it
seemed as if they had fallen under the influence of the
dialectic of the time, for they resorted more to the proc-
esses of reason, either to justify their resolutions or to
combat or disprove arguments opposed to them. ‘This
reasoning was always in conformity with their character
and their passions, but it was vigorous, well conducted,
substantial and skillful. On the other hand, an entirely
new psychological variety manifested itself in these plays.
A delicate and forceful art opposed the characters to one
another, finding in these contrasts the means of illumining
them more vividly and of turning them to better account.
At times the poet did not hesitate to reveal, even among
the most heroic of them, signs of human weakness—regret,
hesitation, or the awakening of precious memories in hours
of distress. Going still further in his Oedipus Rea, he
drew a picture of one and the same man, first at the height
of his power, venerated as a god by an entire people, and
himself full of confidence in his fortune and in his genius;
then, after the most soul-stirring vicissitudes, suddenly
beaten down, fallen to the lowest depth of misery, humil-
iated by the abhorrence of others and by the sense of his
own degradation. The truth is that the rich and supple
imagination of Aschylus lent itself well to the understand-
ing and expression of everything human. Nothing es-
INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY 141
caped his faculty of dramatic creation, neither violent
passions, nor the mildest sentiments, such as kindness,
grace, filial love, devotion, and delicacy. We may say
that he was one of the most complete representatives of
Attic civilization at a time when the latter concentrated
in itself, so to speak, the best of Greek civilization.
Euripides.—At his side shone his rival, Euripides, who
was a few years younger, and whose work, by its profound
differences, reveals so vividly the evolutionary forces
which were then operating in men’s minds. Whereas in
Sophocles the influence of philosophy was scarcely more
than formal, in Euripides it had penetrated to the very
depths of his soul and had created there an inner duality.
He was at once a thinker and a poet, and his two na-
tures sometimes had difficulty in agreeing with each
other. There is no doubt that this state of mind was
common to a certain number of his contemporaries; but
what in them remained obscure, came clearly to the sur-
face in his dramas. As a poet Euripides, like Aschylus
and Sophocles, accepts the ancient legends and everything
of the supernatural contained in them; and not only does
he accept them, but he makes use of them with all the
powers of his genius. Better than anybody else he
utilizes in them the elements of pity and fear with which
they were filled, and he makes out of them the most deeply
moving tragedies that have ever been produced. More-
over, he renders them all the more touching in that he
consciously reduces the heroes and heroines to the stature
of plain mortals. It was truly the humanity of his time
that he presented to the view of the Athenian people;
and when the latter, after some resistance, became ac-
customed to this new manner, it is easy to understand
that they became passionately attached to it, that they
even preferred it to any other manner, since they found
142 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
in these plays a picture, as it were, of the life which
they knew by experience. Behind these creations of a
marvelous imagination and sensibility, however, we are
conscious of the unfailing presence of the thinker. He
observes life as a moralist, weaving into the dialog his per-
sonal reflections, now subtile and bantering, now grave
and slightly saddened, always rather strangely placed
in the mouth of one or another character who seems
temporarily to forget his réle. And he observes it also
as a sceptic, emphasizing at pleasure the improbability of
certain traditions, protesting against the immorality
of others, making it clear that he refuses to take account
of them. From this results a composite work, equal in
its qualities to the most beautiful works of its kind,
nevertheless disconcerting in places, of a nature calcu-
lated to excite contemporary thought to the utmost, and
revealing most clearly to us today the diverse tendencies
that gave it birth.
Aristophanes.—Almost as much may be said of the
comedy of the time, already defined, and of its principal
representative, Aristophanes. In his case, too, behind the
charming poet and the clown, there is the thinker,
capricious and fantastic, to be sure, but also clear-sighted
and arch, one whose ingenious and fair-minded views are
mixed with prejudices. His mind is full of contrasts and
contradictions; he is a defender of the religion which
makes light of the gods; and he is an enemy of innovations
but himself an innovator. Altho fond of the language
of Euripides, and prone to imitate him, he also criticises
him. No doubt entirely capable of appreciating the
dialectic of Socrates, he caricatures him nevertheless.
Nowhere is there revealed more clearly than in his work
the mobility of the Athenian mind, accessible to all in-
fluences, never unfolding itself without reserve, employ-
INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY 143
ing its natural pliancy to conciliate all things that were
at odds, and adapting itself well enough, after all, to a
diversity of opinions which amused it but at the same
time did not profoundly disturb it.
(5) THE HISTORIANS
Herodotus.—At the same time that the intellectual and
moral experience acquired in the fifth century was thus
brilliantly manifesting itself in poetry, it was also pro-
viding history with the means of producing works of high
value. Until then, historical writing had still been in
its infancy. In groping about it fell back upon the
genealogies and local chronicles, in which the most prom-
inent place was given to mythology and to the mythical
families with their store of legends. Geography, its
auxiliary, does not seem, on its part, to have progressed
very much since the time of Hecateus and Anaximander.
But a new curiosity was awakened by the effect of the
Persian Wars. At that time the Greeks as a people had
had an alluring, altho confused, vision of everything con-
tained in the depths of the vast Orient, until then very
little known. They could only accept with favor any-
thing which would serve to reveal more of it.
An Asiatic Greek, Herodotus of Halicarnassus, under-
took this task and succeeded very well with it. An in-
defatigable traveler, whose desire to see and to know led
him successively to Egypt, to Asia, to almost all parts of
Greece, to Sicily, and to Italy, where he finally settled
down and probably died, he succeeded in carrying out
a most profitable inquiry—questioning men, visiting
monuments, informing himself about everything, about
customs, laws, forms of government, and religions, with-
out preconceived ideas or prejudices, but with a singular
144 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
mixture of acuteness and credulity, of insatiable curiosity
and religious discretion. And from everything which he
had seen, read, and heard, he produced by the power of
his genius, by his keen sense for beautiful things, by his
talent as a story-teller, and by the charm of his style, a
truly admirable work. In an immense frame, as in a sort
of moving panorama, he gave his readers a picture of the
life of twenty different peoples. How much instruction
was offered in this encyclopedic collection, wherein the
variety of human types, the multiplicity of religions, and
the history of diverse institutions, were so interestingly
set forth! Scarcely did the contemporary tragedy itself
present so rich a collection of human documents.
Moreover, by virtue of their national interest and their
pathetic episodes, these bounteous narratives, which dealt
chiefly with the Persian Wars, constituted also a veritable
drama, one of the dramas, indeed, which was destined to
stir most deeply the sons of the victors at Marathon and
at Salamis. A religious idea dominated it, identical with
that which inspired both Aschylus and Sophocles. Like
them, Herodotus believed in a jealous divinity always
ready to repress excessive pride or ambition, and always
quick to cast down any one who was rising imprudently.
Neither with him nor with them, however, did this belief
tend to discourage useful activities. Having risen from
the need of explaining certain great catastrophes, it left
to politics all its importance, assigning to it merely the
duty of observing moderation in everything. |
Thucydides.—Nevertheless, however beautiful this work
was, it did not give full satisfaction to the taste for moral
analysis and profound reflection, which at the end of the
fifth century was developing more and more in minds
which had been touched by philosophy. It was especially
INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY 145
for the latter that Thucydides wrote at that time his
History of the Peloponnesian War.
_ A member of the Athenian aristocracy, a politician, and
a general, he was able to combine with the most remark-
able natural endowments, the advantages of an extensive
education and experience in the things whereof he was to
write. From his first teachers, among whom we should
perhaps count the orator Antiphon, he derived his taste
for a style which, abandoning the free and rather smooth
phraseology characteristic of the Ionian prose writers,
sought to condense ideas and to turn every part of them
to account, even at the expense of ease, of grace, and
sometimes of clarity, but always to the advantage of a
scrupulous precision.
In order definitively to break the bonds which still at-
tached history to epic poetry, it was necessary to elim-
inate the fabulous and legendary elements from the
former altogether. This is what Thucydides did. Cast-
ing a backward glance, at the beginning of his narrative,
at the development of Greek civilization, he does not hesi-
tate to explain it rationally on the basis of still existing
primitive customs in Greece. Thus vanished the fiction
of the golden age. But Thucydides reveals even firmness
of judgment as regards the supernatural element in sct-
ting forth contemporary events. Without denying the
power of the gods, he says nothing of their intervention
in human affairs, believing with reason that there was no
profit either for the historian or for his readers in ponder-
ing over mysterious causes of which they could know noth-
ing. What seemed to him useful to consider in events in
general was not that which escapes human calculations,
but, on the contrary, that which had been foreseen or
might have been foreseen. For the proper field of his-
146 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
tory, according to him, was to make usual foresight pos-
sible in the future by taking advantage of al x
periences.
This view naturally led him to the investigation of re-
mote as well as immediate causes; and it was precisely in
this way that he proceeded in explaining the rivalry of
Sparta and Athens. As for the direct causes, for him
these were not only the few incidents which had kindled
the flames of war, but also the moral disposition of the
two city-states, their conception of their respective roles,
and the consciousness which they had of their power.
This same method we find in all the details of the nar-
rative. Chance, which can never be entirely excluded
from human affairs, was here reduced at least to a mini-
mum. Never had a similar effort been made to explain
rationally everything which can be thus explained.
Moreover, far from failing to recognize the personal
influence of certain men, he endeavors to examine and an-
alyze the character of each of them. Thus it is that he
introduces such persons as his Pericles, his Nicias, his Al-
cibiades, and his Cleon—figures strongly characterized
and no doubt carefully drawn from life. In order to set
forth their designs, their anticipations, their avowed mo-
tives or their illusions, he attributes to them speeches
imitated from those which they had actually delivered,
but composed primarily with a view to making them
known; and whenever he sees fit, he supplements them,
always discreetly, by introducing some reflections of
his own. Then, too, while detaching them from the
crowd, he takes care not to isolate them from it. Know-
ing better than anybody else the power of opinion, he
feels obliged to take account of all the movements per-
ceptible to his readers. His history not only records the
INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY 147
sentiments of the peoples in conflict, but it tells of Hiner
successes and their revenges as well.
We may add that this thinker was possessed of a strong
and vivid imagination, skilled in representing moving
realities by means of a few well-chosen touches. A con-
siderable number of his narratives are admirable. The
impression they give is all the more vivid in that it seems
to rise from the facts themselves, to such an extent does
the narrator conceal and efface himself. We detect no ap-
parent effort to create effects, no obstrusive reflection.
The things themselves are evoked before us; and we see in
them precisely what it is necessary for us to see in order
to be the most deeply moved by them.
Altogether, thanks to Thucydides, the historical curi-
osity which Herodotus excited and unquestionably devel-
oped by the immensity and variety of the picture which
he placed before the eyes of his readers, became more
intense, more concentrated, and more profound. The
narration of ancient or recent events, formerly the sub-
ject of epic poetry, then brought closer to reality by
geography, ethnography, observation of customs, and
critical analysis of the sources, became properly a subject
of science by allowing itself to become more and more
penetrated by reflection. Thucydides heralded and pre-
pared the way for Aristotle.
(6) oRATORY—PERICLES
What We Know of the Oratory of the Fifth Century.
—Along with history and philosophy, oratory was, in the
fifth century, one of the most remarkable manifestations
of the Greek genius. It is not, of course, to be confused
with rhetoric, to which we have referred above; for
148 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
rhetoric is only a theoretical science of which oratory
sometimes condescends to make use, but with which it can
-also dispense. Unfortunately we know the orators of this
time only from what others say about them. They would
have been afraid, in publishing their speeches, of being
confused with the teachers of rhetoric. For them a
harangue was above all a mode of action. If a few
hearers had not noted down their impressions, we would
now know of them nothing more than their names.
Pericles—Under these conditions it will suffice to
mention here the most illustrious of them—all the more
so because he is the man who gave his name to the entire
century, and because in a certain sense he summarizes it
in his person. No figure, as a matter of fact, is more
representative of Athens in the fifth century than Pericles.
Insofar as an ideal can be realized, he realized that of
the people who had taken him as their leader. ‘There
was in him a natural authority, which clung to his
character as well as to his talent. His eloquence was the
reflection of both. To the stateliness of his appear-
ance and bearing corresponded the nobility of his mind.
Reared with philosophy, the friend and patron of
Anaxagoras, he had the gift of distinguishing general
ideas, while at the same time the accuracy of his views
did not suffer thereby. There was nothing small or base
either in his character or in his conceptions, nor yet any
exaggeration. A man of action and initiative, he could ©
also calm the excessive ardor of the crowd—so we are
told by Thucydides—and again he could encourage it in
moments of weakness. An instinct for greatness inspired
his policy and made itself felt in his words; but this in-
stinct seemed penetrated by a sense of moderation. As
a rule, his eloquence was earnest, simple, full of revealing
light and of reason; an Attic grace was blended with a
INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY 149
charm which produced conviction. But sometimes the
intimate force of his powerful nature was also revealed;
and then of a sudden his arguments burst forth with a
wealth of overwhelming words which upset everything
and were comparable with claps of thunder. It seems
evident, accordingly, that his eloquence had a freedom of
manner and of movement which is not to be found in the
speeches, so strongly condensed, attributed to him by
Thucydides. And this leads us to believe that the
same may be said of the speeches of his rivals and
his successors, whatever might otherwise have been his
superiority to them.
We may add that this great orator had a sense of
beauty in the highest degree, as is evidenced by the role
he played in promoting the artistic movement among his
fellow-citizens. To speak of the artists, of whom he was
at once the patron and the most enlightened admirer, is
in @ sense equivalent to continuing to speak of him.
(7) THE ARTS IN THE FIFTH CENTURY
General Character of Art of the Fifth Century.—lIt
was at this time, as a matter of fact, that Greek art
reached its apogee. Greece, the creator of science,
liberty, and humanity, revealed itself at the same time
as the creator of beauty; and in all the formative arts
it produced masterpieces which have never been surpassed.
The sixth century, as we have seen, had little by little
perfected technic, without which the most gifted artist
is powerless. After the progress mentioned above, in
architecture, in sculpture, and even in painting, the mas-
ters of the fifth century had nothing more to learn as
regards anything pertaining to the routine of their
profession. Thereafter the hand was docilely obedient
150 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
to the mind. The latter, freed from material difficulties
and restrictions and mistress of its means, could give
itself over wholly to inspiration. 'To this end, however,
it did not feel authorized to despise reality. Like the
great dramatic poets of the same time, the artists adhered
to the imitation of nature, the rich and living diversity
of which they succeeded in interpreting as well as did the
poets, and with quite as much idealization as the latter.
In general they were less interested in that which was
purely individual, the curious detail and the particular
trait, than they were in that which was typical. This
accounts in some measure for the nobilty, the grandeur,
and the simplicity with which their works are replete.
Circumstances, moreover, favored this development and
this tendency. The Persian Wars had given Greece a
sense of its own moral force and the firmest confidence
in its future. Full of grateful recognition toward its
gods which had saved it, it set about to restore their
destroyed sanctuaries and to build new ones. Its heart
was set on embellishing them with all the means at its dis-
posal. The art of the sculptors and painters, of decora-
tors of all kinds, was invited to codperate with that of
the architects. And besides the temples, public buildings,
among them, the prytanea, porticos, and gymnasia be-
came more numerous, as well as works of public utility,
such as ports, arsenals, magazines, roads and bridges, to
say nothing of private residences. The great city-states
and the princes rivaled one another. Athens and
Corinth, Syracuse and Tarentum, Elis and Delphi, Delos
and the cities of Ionia, gloried in the works which they
commanded of the best known artists. A general emula-
tion was expressed in rich offerings, statues, and dedica-
tory monuments. And almost everywhere it was col-
INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY 151
lective sentiments which the artists were called upon to
express in figured representations.
Architecture.—What Greece accomplished at that time
in the domain of architecture is truly admirable. The
Greek temple is indeed one of the products of the human
genius which comes closest to perfection; and the
Parthenon at Athens may be looked upon as its highest
development. It was between 450 and 430 sz. c., under
the auspices of Pericles, that this marvelous edifice was
erected upon the isolated rock of the Acropolis, the
joint work of the architect Ictinus, who drew the plans
for it, and of the sculptor Phidias, who not only adorned
it with his masterpieces, but also directed the work on
it and supervised the execution of it in all its parts.
Never, perhaps, has a monument better expressed the soul
of a people and its conception of beauty. Large enough
on its rocky eminence to dominate the city, there was
yet nothing colossal about it. It was especially by the
harmony of its proportions and by the fine and delicate
grace of its lines, that it was distinguished from the very
beginning. Slightly elevated on its base, exposing to
view its peristyle of Doric columns with their robust and
charming curvature, and proudly supporting its archi-
trave, which crowned it without seeming to weigh it down
—it appeared from a distance as the most suitable abode
for a goddess in whom strength was combined with reason.
Viewed from close by, it satisfied the most critical scrutiny
by the beauty of its materials, the finish of its workman-
ship, and the discreet blending of colors which enhanced
the effect of its general design. Moreover, it fascinated
the visitor by its admirably sculptured pediments, by the
reliefs on the frieze which encircled it, as also by those
on the metopes placed at intervals between the triglyphs
152 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
of the architrave. There, in effect, were unfolded divine
or human scenes in logical groups, in forms full of life,
grace, and majesty—national legends of which Athens
was proud, allegories which recalled the city’s own ex- —
ploits, idealized representations of its most beautiful
religious ceremonies. ‘Thus the temple, in a sense, spoke;
it expressed a thought, a devotion, a group of sentiments,
at the same time manifesting the most properly Hellenic
conception of art.
This type, moreover, was on occasion skillfully modified
by the architecture of the fifth century, depending upon
circumstances. On the same Acropolis, the Erectheum,
so different from the Parthenon, the Propyleum, the
small Temple of the Winged Victory, and, elsewhere, the
Temple of Zeus at Olympia, and the Telesterion at
Eleusis, show sufficiently with what subtile inventive
power it varied its plans, and diversified its means and
effects, in order to adapt itself either to the conditions
of the surrounding country or to the particular purpose
of the edifice. Certainly it lacked neither freedom nor a
certain suggestion of fantasy. What one never finds in
its work is a suggestion of disorder or bad taste.
Sculpture.—As in the case of architecture, so also in
the case of sculpture, the mechanical progress made in the
sixth century led, from the beginning of the fifth century
on, to a mastery which reached its climax thirty or forty
years later. It manifests itself by an exact determina-
tion of proportions, an increasingly certain knowledge of
anatomy, a greater perfection of form, a proper sense of
movement, and, in more restricted measure, by the study
of the human physiognomy, altho in this respect, too,
the art of the time was concerned more with what was
typical than with individual details.
A certain antiquated manner is still found in the first
a en
INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY 153
period, in the work of Calamis and Myron, and in the case
of the unknown creators of the pediments of the temple
at Atgina and the sculptures of the Temple of Zeus at
Olympia, remarkable as these last works already are.
It disappeared with Polyclitus of Argos, this industrious
creator of admirable statues of young athletes, in which
is revealed the full beauty of the human body har-
moniously developed. In the second half of the century
Phidias, Alcamenes, and Peonius produced incomparable
masterpieces. Under the chisel of these masters the
subject almost seems to become spiritualized. These are
no longer merely perfect forms which they produce out
of marble; they are truly gods, whose majesty is ex-
pressed in the dignity of their postures and in the nobility
of their features. Admirable draperies envelop them;
and sometimes, in order to heighten their beauty, the
artist combines with the whiteness of the marble the luster
of gold and the polish of ivory. Skillful, when necessary,
in expressing motion, the sculptors of this time used it
only with discretion, satisfied merely to suggest it in the
calm poses which they liked to represent. Works which
today have disappeared, such as Phidias’ statue of
Zeus at Olympia, his Athena in the Parthenon at Athens,
and the Aphrodite of Alcamenes, called forth in antiquity
a unanimous and lasting admiration. We still feel this
admiration in the presence of the mutilated marble pillars
of the Parthenon.
To the impression produced by each of the figures con-
sidered alone is added that which is produced by them as
a whole. The principle of balance and symmetry, which
Greek art had sought from its very beginnings, is realized
there in its perfection. It is a symmetry without stiff-
ness or monotony, which seems to result spontaneously
from the subject represented, and which is skillfully con-
154 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
cealed under the great wealth of inventions; it is a sym-
metry which is not intended solely to please the eye, but
which speaks to the mind, by making itself the ally of
allegory, by giving a clearer significance to the scenes
represented. If art is an adaptation of reality to reason
and to sentiment, it would seem that it has never produced
anything which conforms better to its definition.
Painting Whereas a certain number of the most beau-
tiful sculptures of the fifth century are preserved for our
admiration, the ancient paintings have long since disap-
peared. Hence we are compelled to rely upon descriptions
in representing them to ourselves. It is true that a few
painted stele and an abundant series of figured vases
add a precious contribution to this indirect information,
but in spite of everything they give us only an imperfect
idea of the pictures executed by the great artists of that
time. Accordingly, we can say of them here only a few
words.
Alongside of the great sculptors of the fifth century,
we see a succession of painters whom antiquity ranked
with the great artists. The leaders among them were
Polygnotus, Micon, Apollodorus, Zeuxis, and Parrhasius.
All the testimonies indicate that the work of these masters
attained a rare perfection. It was impossible, moreover,
that it should have been otherwise, when the contemporary
sculptors showed themselves so skillful in reproducing
form and movement. These great painters, therefore,
were likewise creators of life and beauty, and they also
contributed to the development of the esthetic sense of
their day. It even seems that, by reason of the means
peculiar to their art, they had carried further than the
sculptors the interpretation of human emotions in rep-
resenting the moving play of the features, as also of the
INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY 155
poses and gestures. Like the sculptors, nevertheless,
while laying hold of the infinitely varied aspects of life,
they knew at the same time how to disengage from it, and
to. make prominent, those traits most worthy of atten-
tion. From what we are told of their work we can
not doubt that they obeyed the same principles in every-
thing; they, too, associated symmetry and balance with
variety, and realized movement without exaggeration or
confusion.
The Industrial Arts——At any rate we can judge the
influence which the fine arts exerted in the fifth century
upon the industrial arts. Our museums have collected
quantities of painted vases, miniature figures, medals,
gems, jewels, coins, even utensils, which bear witness to
it. Nothing, perhaps, is better calculated to make us feel
how thoroly the Greek civilization of that time was im-
bued with the artistic sense. We may mention, in this
regard, the red-figured vases, the most beautiful of which
are as remarkable for the elegance of their design as for
the grace of their form. Various scenes are repre-
sented upon them, now borrowed directly from contem-
porary life, now imitated from the pictures of painters
renowned at that time. In both cases, technical skill is
allied with personal accent. Each of these works is a
more or less original invention, almost always bearing
witness to a refined taste, and often graceful or charm-
ing. And even in the products of the second order it is
seldom that one does not find something of these quali-
ties.
If we remember that these attractive objects could be
found in the public markets thruout almost the entire
Mediterranean basin, we understand better the part which
Greece played as the educator of humanity.
156 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
(8) GREEK CIVILIZATION AT THE END OF THE
FIFTH CENTURY
In all forms at once, therefore, Greek civilization had
developed magnificently in the course of the fifth century.
In some of these forms, especially in certain creations of
literature and of art, it had even reached its culmination.
On the other hand, the human type realized in some of
its better representatives was truly worthy of admiration
for a happy equilibrium of physical qualities and moral
qualities, for its broad and intelligent interests. Pro-
found love of country did not exclude in the cultivated
Greek an already vivid sense of human fraternity; the
conception of laws was reconciled in his mind with that
of liberty, and respect for the past with legitimate aspira-
tion for progress. A truly spiritual religion began to
free itself from the ancient mythology and to do away
with the most burdensome supersitions of the past. In
particular, an ideal of beauty was formed which continued
to grow and to revive incessantly in various forms.
Does all this mean that Greece thereafter had nothing
more to acquire, and that it was fatally condemned to
more or less rapid decay, like a plant exhausted by its
very blooming? Events were destined to prove that this
was not the case. Its genius was still far from having
manifested all its resources; and the fourth century was
to complete in many ways, and in a glorious manner, the
magnificent work of the fifth.
PART III
THE FOURTH CENTURY
CHAPTER I
POLITICS, BUSINESS, CUSTOMS
Survey of the History of the Greek States in the Fourth
Century.—The Peloponnesian War had seemingly settled
the question of hegemony in Greece to the advantage of
Sparta. But in reality such was not the case. Athens,
altho defeated, had not yet reached the point of resigna-
tion; and Sparta, altho victorious, showed itself incapable
of asserting its unwieldy and ineffective preponderance.
In 395 z. c. a coalition was formed against Sparta. This
was followed by another war; after which a peace im-
posed by the King of Persia, who profited by these
rivalries, reduced Greece to a condition of decadence and
general weakness (386 B.c.).
During this decomposition of the nation a new ambi-
tion, that of Thebes, sprang up unexpectedly. While
Athens was endeavoring to reconstitute its maritime con-
federation, Thebes was seeking to dominate central
Greece and the Peloponnesus. Two remarkable men,
Epaminondas and Pelopidas, achieved some brilliant suc-
cesses for the Theban arms. Victorious over Sparta in
the battle of Leuctra (371 3. c.), the Thebans brought
that city to the verge of ruin, organized Arcadia and
Messene against it, and even pressed forward into Thessaly
and Eubea. But the death of Pelopidas, and a little
later that of Epaminondas, who perished at Mantinea in
362 B. c., led to the collapse of this short-lived ascendency.
The power of Sparta was shaken no less profoundly,
159
160 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION
while Athens, on the other hand, witnessed in 355 zB. c.
the dissolution of the confederation which it had momen-
tarily reéstablished. None of the Greek states was any
longer in a position to claim’supremacy.
But precisely at that time Macedonia, which had
scarcely emerged from a semi-barbarous condition, was
organizing its forces under the initiative of its young ©
king, Philip II (859-336 s. c.). He was at once a states-
man and a soldier. Ambitious, and having at his dis-
posal a strong and enthusiastic army, as well as a con-
siderable wealth for that time, he succeeded in the course
of a score of years in overcoming everything which stood
in the way of his plans. His victory at Cheronea (338
B.C.) over the combined forces of Thebes and Athens,
made him the master of Greece. Assassinated two years
later, he bequeathed his methods of action and his plans
regarding Asia to his son, Alexander. It is well known
how the latter realized them. Having compelled all
Greece to recognize him as a ruler, he undertook the con-
quest of the Orient; and by a series of prodigious suc-
cesses he achieved this in a few years. When he died at
Babylon, in 323 3s. c., he had founded an immense empire
and had opened up the Orient to Greek civilization. ) Te
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