CHAPTER VI
THE GROWTH OF ATHENS
Athens was the most beautiful city in Greece. It grew up at the foot of the high rock known as the Acropolis, which in the earliest times was the citadel that defended the city. The Acropolis had very strong walls, and the main entrance was guarded by nine gates, which must have made it almost impossible for an enemy to take, and there was a well within the fortress, so that there was always water for those who defended it. But history has told us almost nothing about the mighty lords who built this fortress or about the life of the people over whom they ruled.
But if history is silent, legend has much to say. The earliest rulers of Athens were Kings, and of these one of the first was Cecrops. All kinds of stories gathered round his name, and it was believed that he was not altogether human, but a being who had grown out of the earth and was half-man and half-serpent. It was when he was King that the contest took place as to whether Athena, the grey-eyed Goddess of Wisdom, or Poseidon, Lord of the Sea, should be the special guardian of the city. The victory was awarded to Athena, who, taking her spear, thrust it into the ground, whereupon an olive tree marvellously appeared. Poseidon gave the horse as his gift to Athens, and legend adds that, striking the rock with his trident, he brought forth clear salt water, which he also gave to the Athenians. For all time the olive was associated not only with Athena, but with Attica and Athens her city, and to the Athenian, the sea became almost like a second home.
The ancient kings claimed descent from the gods. They were not only the lawgivers, but they acted as judges, as chief priests, and in time of war as generals. All who were oppressed had the right to appeal to the judgment seat of the King and his decisions were final. Though the King was the supreme ruler, there were assemblies of the chief men, always called the Elders, and of the People, who met whenever the King called them together. These gatherings are important, not because of any real power they possessed in early times, for they only met to hear what the King intended to do and never to discuss, but because it was from these assemblies that the power of the people to govern themselves developed.
The greatest of the early Kings was Theseus, he who slew the Minotaur and freed Athens from paying tribute to Minos the Sea-King of Crete. His greatest claim to be held in the remembrance of his countrymen was that it was believed to have been Theseus who united all Attica under the leadership of Athens. Before this time all the towns and villages in Attica had been independent, but he "gathered together all the inhabitants of Attica into one town, and made them people of one city ... and gave the name of Athens to the whole state."[1] Legend tells of him that he was good and merciful to all who were in need, and a protector of all who were oppressed, but he offended the gods in some way, and died in exile far from Athens. Long centuries after, Cimon, an Athenian general, took possession of the island in which it was said that Theseus had been buried. Cimon
had a great ambition to find out the place where Theseus was buried and by chance spied an eagle on a rising ground, when on a sudden it came into his mind, as it were by some divine inspiration, to dig there, and search for the bones of Theseus. There were found in that place a coffin of a man of more than ordinary size, and a brazen spear-head, and a sword lying by it, all of which he took aboard his galley and brought with him to Athens. Upon which the Athenians, greatly delighted, went out to meet and receive the relics with splendid processions and with sacrifices, as if it were Theseus himself returning alive to the city. His tomb became a sanctuary and refuge for slaves, and of all those of mean condition that fly from the persecution of men in power, in memory that Theseus while he lived was an assister and protector of the distressed, and never refused the petitions of the afflicted that fled to him.[2]
II. THE RULE OF THE FEW: THE OLIGARCHY
It is not known with any certainty how long the rule of the Kings lasted in Athens, but they seem to have slowly lost their power and at last other magistrates were appointed to help them rule. The earliest Kings had been hereditary rulers; when they became less powerful, though they were no longer the sole rulers of Athens, these hereditary Kings still kept their office for life. Later they ruled for life but were elected; the next change made was to elect a new king every ten years, and at last the greatest change of all took place when the old office of King was done away with, and the power that had once been in the hands of one man was entrusted to three: the Archon, a Greek title meaning ruler, who was the chief representative of the State and who gave his name to the year, the King-Archon, who was the chief priest and who had authority over all the sacrifices offered by the State, and the Polemarch, or War-Archon, who was the chief general. Six other archons were also elected whose duty it was to assist the others and to see that the laws of the State were obeyed.
Not everyone could be an Archon; only men from noble families could be elected, and so the power passed into the hands of a few men. The rule of a few is called an oligarchy, and it was the second step the Athenians took on their way to be a self-governing community.
At first this rule was good, for by experience the nobles learnt a great deal about the art of governing; they realised that order was better than disorder in a state, and they set high standards of devotion to public duty. But the nobles all belonged to one class of people, they were the best educated and the more wealthy, and instead of using their advantages of position and education and wealth as a trust for the good of the whole state (the ideal developed in later years by the Athenians), they grew to consider these things their own exclusive property and they became very narrow and intolerant. They considered themselves in every way superior to the common people, and began to make laws which benefited themselves alone, ignoring the rights of others, especially those of the poor.
Now the nobles had acquired their power because of their opposition to the rule of one man, but when the authority had been placed in their hands, they proved themselves equally unable to be just towards all, and their rule became as intolerant as that of the Kings. Then it was that their authority was questioned in its turn, and the people began to ask each other questions. What is the difference, they asked, between rich and poor, between the noble and the plain man, between the freeman and the slave? Who, they asked, are citizens, and what does it mean to be a citizen? The more the people questioned, the greater grew the oppression and injustice of the nobles, and conditions in Athens grew very bad. Many things helped to create this spirit of discontent: there had been wars, the harvests had been bad and famine had resulted, and there were very harsh laws which allowed debtors who could not pay their debts to sell themselves as slaves. Quarrels arose, and more and more the people questioned as to the justice of all this. They said:
But ye who have store of land, who are sated and overflow,
Restrain your swelling soul, and still it and keep it low;
Let the heart that is great within you be trained a lowlier way;
Ye shall not have all at your will, we will not forever obey.[3]
III. SOLON, THE WISE MAN OF ATHENS AND THE RULE OF THE MANY[4]
It was at this time of confusion and distress that Solon, one of the Seven Wise Men of Greece, appeared. By birth he was a noble, but he was a poor man and in the early part of his life he had been a merchant. There came a time later when the merchant was not looked upon as the equal of the noble, for Plutarch, in writing the life of Solon about seven hundred years after his death, makes an apology for his having been engaged in trade.
In his time, as Hesiod says, "Work was a shame to none," nor was any distinction made with respect to trade, but merchandise was a noble calling, which brought home the good things which the barbarous nations enjoyed, was the occasion of friendship with their kings, and a great source of experience.
Solon enjoyed the experience of travelling and seeing new things, a delight that remained with him even to the days of his old age, for when he was old he would say that he
Each day grew older, and learnt something new.
Just before this time Athens had been at war with Megara, a neighbouring state, over the possession of Salamis, which had formerly belonged to Athens, an island so near the Athenian harbour that it was absolutely necessary that it should belong to Athens. But the war had been long and unsuccessful, and no victory had been gained by either side. The Athenians were so "tired with this tedious and difficult war that they made a law that it should be death for any man, by writing or speaking, to assert that the city ought to endeavour to recover the island." Solon felt this to be a great disgrace, and knowing that thousands of Athenians would follow, if only one man were brave enough to lead, he composed some fiery verses which he recited in the market place.
I come as a herald, self-sent, from Salamis, beautiful island,
And the message I bring to your ears, I have turned it into a song.
Country and name would I change, rather than all men should say,
Pointing in scorn, "There goes one of the cowardly, lazy Athenians,
Who let Salamis slip through their fingers, when it was
theirs for a blow!"
On then to Salamis, brothers! Let us fight for the
beautiful island,
Flinging afar from us, ever, the weight of unbearable shame.[5]
Only parts of these verses have come down to us, but they so inspired the Athenians that it was determined to make one more effort to regain Salamis, and this time they were successful. Salamis was recovered, but conditions in Athens remained as unhappy as before. Solon was now held in such high honour that we are told, "the wisest of the Athenians pressed him to succour the commonwealth." He consented, and was elected Archon in 594 B.C.
The first thing Solon did was to relieve the debtors. He did this by cancelling all debts and by setting free all who were slaves for debt, and by forbidding by law any Athenian to pledge himself, his wife or his children as a security for debt. This brought such relief to the state that the act was celebrated by a festival called the "Casting off of Burdens."
Solon wanted to bring order into the distracted city he loved, for he held that order was one of the greatest blessings a state could have, so he set to work to reform the government of the state, to reduce the power of the nobles and to give justice to the people. "First, he repealed all Draco's laws," (Draco had been an earlier lawgiver in Athens), "because they were too severe, and the punishments too great; for death was appointed for almost all offences, so that in after times it was said that Draco's laws were written not with ink, but blood."
Solon reformed the government of the state in such a way, that even the poorest citizens had political rights. They could not all be Archons, but Athens, like Sparta and other Greek states, had her general Assembly of the people, and they could all vote at this, and they could all take part in electing the magistrates. Whilst recognizing the rights of the poorer citizens, Solon believed in preserving a certain part of the power of the nobles, and he arranged the taxation and public service to the state in such a way that the greater the wealth of a man and the higher his position, the more the state demanded of him, both in service and money. Solon himself said of these laws:
I gave to the mass of the people such rank as befitted their need,
I took not away their honour, and I granted nought to their greed;
While those who were rich in power, who in wealth were glorious
and great,
I bethought me that naught should befall them unworthy their
splendour and state;
So I stood with my shield outstretched, and both were safe
in its sight,
And I would not that either should triumph, when the triumph
was not with the right.[6]
Solon did not please everyone with his laws, and when
some came to him every day, to commend or dispraise them, and to advise, if possible, to leave out, or put in something, and desired him to explain, and tell the meaning of such and such a passage, he, knowing that it was useless, and not to do it would get him ill will, it being so hard a thing, as he himself says, in great affairs to satisfy all sides, bought a trading vessel, and having obtained leave for ten years' absence, departed, hoping that by that time his laws would have become familiar.
He stayed away the ten years and then returned to Athens. He took no further part in public affairs, but was reverenced by all and honoured until his death.
During his travels, Plutarch tells us that he visited Croesus, the rich King of Lydia. This visit could never have taken place, for Solon died in Athens just as Croesus came to the throne. As a matter of fact, Plutarch knew that quite well, but he says that he must tell so famous a story, even if it were not true, because it was so characteristic of Solon and so worthy of his wisdom and greatness of mind, and that it would be foolish to omit it because it did not agree with certain dates about which in any case everybody differed!
They say that Solon, coming to Croesus at his request, was in the same condition as an inland man when first he goes to see the sea; for as he fancies every river he meets with to be the ocean, so Solon, as he passed through the court, and saw a great many nobles richly dressed, and proudly attended with a multitude of guards and footboys, thought everyone had been the king, till he was brought to Croesus, who was decked with every possible rarity and curiosity, in ornaments of jewels, purple and gold, that could make a grand and gorgeous spectacle of him. Now when Solon came before him and seemed not at all surprised, he commanded them to open all his treasure-houses and carry him to see his sumptuous furniture and luxuries, though he did not wish it; and when he returned from viewing all, Croesus asked him if ever he had known a happier man than he. And when Solon answered that he had known one Tellus, a fellow-citizen of his own, and told him that this Tellus had been an honest man, had had good children, a competent estate, and died bravely in battle for his country, Croesus took him for an ill-bred fellow and a fool. He asked him, however, again, if besides Tellus, he knew any other man more happy. And Solon replying, Yes, two men who were loving brothers and extremely dutiful sons to their mother, and when the oxen delayed her, harnessed themselves to the waggon and drew her to Hera's temple, her neighbours all calling her happy, and she herself rejoicing; then, after sacrificing and feasting, they went to rest, and never rose again, but died in the midst of their honour a painless and tranquil death. "What," said Croesus angrily, "and dost thou not reckon us amongst the happy men at all?" Solon, unwilling either to flatter or exasperate him more, replied, "The gods, O King, have given the Greeks all other gifts in moderate degree, and so our wisdom, too, is a cheerful and homely, not a noble and kingly wisdom, and him only to whom the divinity has continued happiness unto the end, we call happy."
This story is not only characteristic of Solon, but of the Greek spirit. That spirit did not like the extreme of extravagance and luxury and display, and it believed that there was glory that money could not buy. The Greek who had been rewarded by a wreath of olive leaves had achieved the greatest success known in Greece. This was once told to a noble who had come with the Persian King to invade Greece, and when he heard it, he exclaimed to the King: "What kind of men are these against whom thou hast brought us to fight, who make their contest not for money but for honour!" That was the spirit of Greece.
Athens did not attain her political freedom without a struggle. She passed from the rule of One man, the King, to the rule of the Few, the oligarchy, and then through the legislation of Solon to the rule of the Many, the people. But during this period of change, attempts were made from time to time by powerful leaders to get the rule entirely into their own hands. These leaders who wanted to seize the power and rule alone were called by the Greeks Tyrants. There was always the danger that such a ruler, with no authority in the state to control him, would become harsh, and oppressive, but this was not always the case. Though the rule of one man alone is never the best kind of rule, some of the Greek Tyrants made a real contribution to the states they governed. They were generally well-educated men, who encouraged art and literature; they were always ambitious men, and they often dreamed of extending their power beyond the limits of their own state, and though it was a purely personal and selfish ambition, the efforts at realizing it brought the Greeks into contact with things which had hitherto lain beyond their horizon, for in the Age of the Tyrants, no Greek had yet dreamed dreams or seen visions of empire.
A man was not always successful in his efforts to become a Tyrant. About forty years before Solon was made Archon, Cylon, a rich Athenian, of good family and popular as a winner at Olympia, tried to seize the power. He consulted the Oracle, which told him to make the attempt at the time of the great festival of Zeus. He took this, as all Greeks would, as meaning the Olympic Games, so he waited until the time came for them, and then he and his friends attacked the Acropolis and actually took possession of the citadel. But it seemed that the Oracle, giving one of those answers of which the meaning was uncertain, had referred to the festival held in honour of Zeus near Athens and not to that at Olympia, and Cylon's attempt was unsuccessful. Some of the conspirators fled, and others took refuge in the Temple of Athena. Here they were safe, for no one would dare touch anyone who had placed himself under the protection of the goddess in her sanctuary. But there was no food or drink in the temple, and as nobody brought them any, some of them died of hunger, and Cylon was forced to escape secretly. Then the Archon told the remainder that if they would surrender, their lives should be spared. They consented, but not quite trusting the Archon, they fastened a long rope to the Statue of Athena and held it as they descended the hill, so that they might still be secure under the protection of the goddess. Half-way down the hill, however, the rope broke, and the Archon, declaring that this showed that Athena had withdrawn her protection, had the men put to death. This was looked upon as a great crime by the Athenians, for they considered it not only treachery, but also sacrilege, and it made the Archon many enemies. These declared that as a punishment for this act a curse would rest on him and on all his descendants. His family was descended from Alcmaeon, and so the curse was spoken of as the curse on the Alcmaeonids, and the enemies of this family always attributed to it any calamities that happened to the city.
The most famous Tyrant in Athens was Peisistratus. Whilst Solon was away on his travels, quarrels broke out again, and when he returned, though he took no active part in affairs, he tried by privately talking with the leaders of the various factions to restore peace, but he was unsuccessful. "Now Peisistratus was extremely smooth and engaging in his language, a great friend to the poor and moderate in his resentments, so that he was trusted more than the other leaders."[7] In this way he became very popular, and he deceived people into thinking that he was only desirous of serving the state, when in reality he was doing all in his power to further his own ambition and to become sole ruler of Athens. In order to gain supporters, he appeared one day in the market place in his chariot, which was sprinkled with blood, and he himself appeared to be wounded. On being asked what was the matter, he said his enemies had inflicted these injuries upon him. One of his friends then declared that the Athenians should not permit such a thing to happen, and advised that a bodyguard of fifty men should accompany him to protect him from any further assault. This was done, whereupon with their help, Peisistratus took possession of the Acropolis. But his power was not great enough to hold it, and he and his followers were driven out of Athens.
Peisistratus soon returned, however, having thought of a curious plot by which he might deceive the Athenians into believing it to be the will of the gods that he should rule. During a festival, accompanied by a large number of youths, he entered Athens in his chariot, and at his side stood a tall and beautiful woman, dressed as Athena herself and carrying a shield and spear. The people shouted that the goddess herself had come from Olympus to show her favour to Peisistratus, and he was received as Tyrant. But again he was driven out by his enemies. He stayed away ten years, and then once more he collected an army and advanced on Athens. Once more he was successful and entered the city. This time no one opposed him, he became sole ruler and remained so until his death some ten years later.
Peisistratus showed himself to be a wise ruler; he improved the city and brought water into it by an aqueduct, and he built new roads. Along these roads, especially in places near springs and fountains, were placed small statues of Hermes, and on the pedestals under some of them verses were engraved, perhaps similar to the following lines, to cheer the traveller on his way:
I, Hermes, by the grey sea-shore
Set where the three roads meet,
Outside the wind-swept garden,
Give rest to weary feet;
The waters of my fountain
Are clear and cool and sweet.[8]
It was Peisistratus who made the law that men wounded in battle and the families of those who were killed should be cared for by the state. He built a new Temple to Athena and made her festival more splendid, and he had the ancient poems of Homer collected and written down, so that they might be more carefully preserved. But good ruler as he was, he was still a Tyrant, and during his rule the people were deprived of their right to govern themselves, but so long as he lived, no one opposed him.
After his death, his sons Hippias and Hipparchus succeeded him, but they forgot that, after all, they could only remain Tyrants if the people permitted it, and they grew insolent, harsh and overbearing. Two young Athenians formed a plot to assassinate these oppressors at the next festival. The day came, and Hipparchus was slain, though Hippias escaped. The conspirators were instantly seized and put to death, and Hippias continued to rule alone. He became more and more cruel and the Athenians were bowed down under his oppression. At last the Spartans came to their help. They came, because for some time whenever they sent to Delphi to ask any advice of the Oracle, the answer always came, "First set Athens free." With this help, Hippias was driven out and sent into exile.
Athens was free. The rule of the Tyrants was over, and Athens was once more able to rule herself, to become that state of which, when it was asked "what shepherd rules and lords it o'er their people?" the answer could be given, "Of no man are they called the slaves or subjects."[9]