A Day in Old Athens Part 18

[*]Given in "Readings in Ancient History," Vol. I, p. 117, and in many other volumes.

Before the evening is over various games will be ordered in, especially the "cottabus," which is in great vogue. On the top of a high stand, something like a candelabrum, is balanced rather delicately a little saucer of bra.s.s. The players stand at a considerable distance with cups of wine. The game is to toss a small quant.i.ty of wine into the balanced saucer so smartly as to make the bra.s.s give out a clear ringing sound, and to tilt upon its side.[+] Much shouting, merriment, and a little wagering ensues. While most of the company prefer the cottabus, two, who profess to be experts, call for a gaming board and soon are deep in the "game of towns"--very like to latter-day "checkers," played with a board divided into numerous squares. Each contestant has thirty colored stones, and the effort is to surround your opponent's stones and capture them.

Some of the company, however, regard this as too profound, and after trying their skill at the cottabus betake themselves to the never failing chances of dice. Yet these games are never suffered (in refined dinner parties) to banish the conversation. That after all is the center, although it is not good form to talk over learnedly of statecraft, military tactics, or philosophy. If such are discussed, it must be with playful abandon, and a disclaimer of being serious; and even very grave and gray men remember Anacreon's preference for the praise of "the glorious gifts of the Muses and of Aphrodite" rather than solid discussions of "conquest and war."

[+]This was the simplest form of the COTTABUS game; there were numerous elaborations, but our accounts of them are by no means clear.

168. Going Home from the Feast: Midnight Revellers.--At length the oil lamps have begun to burn dim. The tired slaves are yawning.

Their masters, despite Prodicus's intentions of having a very proper symposium, have all drunk enough to get unstable and silly.

Eunapius gives the signal. All rise, and join in the final libation to Hermes. "Shoes and himation, boy," each says to his slave, and with thanks to their host they all fare homeward.

Such will be the ending to an extremely decorous feast. With gay young bloods present, however, it might have degenerated into an orgy; the flute girl (or several of them) would have contributed over much to the "freedom"; and when the last deep crater had been emptied, the whole company would have rushed madly into the street, and gone whirling away through the darkness,--harps and flutes sounding, boisterous songs pealing, red torches tossing. Revellers in this mood would be ready for anything. Perhaps they would end in some low tavern at the Peiraeus to sleep off their liquor; perhaps their leader would find some other Symposium in progress, and after loud knockings, force his way into the house, even as did the mad Alcibiades, who (once more to recall Plato) thrust his way into Agathon's feast, staggering, leaning on a flute girl, and shouting, "Where's Agathon!" Such an inroad would be of course the signal for more and ever more hard drinking. The wild invaders might make themselves completely at home, and dictate all the proceedings: the end would be even as at Agathon's banquet, where everybody but Socrates became completely drunken, and lay p.r.o.ne on the couches or the floor. One hopes that the honest Prodicus has no such climax to his symposium.

...At length the streets grow quiet. Citizens sober or drunken are now asleep: only the vigilant Scythian archers patrol the ways till the c.o.c.ks proclaim the first gray of dawn.

Chapter XIX. Country Life Around Athens

169. Importance of his Farm to an Athenian.--We have followed the doings of a typical Athenian during his ordinary activities around the city, but for the average gentleman an excursion outside the town is indispensable at least every two or three days, and perhaps every day. He must visit his farm; for his wealth and income are probably tied up there, rather than in any unaristocratic commercial and manufacturing enterprises. Homer's "royal" heroes are not ashamed to be skilful at following the plow[*]: and no Athenian feels that he is contaminating himself by "trade" when he supervises the breeding of sheep or the raising of onions. We will therefore follow in the tracks of certain well-to-do citizens, when we turn toward the Itonian gate sometime during the morning, while the Agora is still in a busy hum, even if thus we are curtailing our hypothetical visits to the Peiraeus or to the bankers.

[*]See Odysseus's boasts, "Odyssey," XVIII. 360 et pa.s.sim. The gentility of farming is emphasized by a hundred precepts from Hesiod.

170. The Country by the Ilissus: the Greeks and Natural Beauty.--Our companions are on horseback (a token of tolerable wealth in Athens), but the beasts amble along not too rapidly for nimble grooms to run behind, each ready to aid his respective master. Once outside the gate the regular road swings down to the south towards Phalerum; we, however, are in no great haste and desire to see as much as possible. The farms we are seeking lie well north of the city, but we can make a delightful circuit by skirting the city walls with the eastern shadow of the Acropolis behind us, and going at first northeast, along the groves and leafy avenues which line the thin stream of the Ilissus,[*] the second "river" of Athens.

[*]The Ilissus, unlike its st.u.r.dier rival, the Cephisus, ran dry during the summer heats; but there was enough water along its bed to create a dense vegetation.

Before us through the trees came tantalizing glimpses of the open country running away towards s.h.a.ggy gray Hymettus. Left to itself the land would be mostly arid and seared brown by the summer sun; but everywhere the friendly work of man is visible. One can count the little green oblong patches, stretching even up the mountain side, marked with gleaming white farm buildings or sometimes with little temples and chapels sacred to the rural G.o.ds. Once or twice also we notice a plot of land which seems one tangled waste of trees and shrubbery. This is a sacred "temenos," an inviolate grove, set apart to some G.o.d; and within the fences of the compound no mortal dare set foot under pain of direful sacrilege and pollution.

Following a kind of bridle path, however, we are soon amid the groves of olive and other trees, while the horses plod their slow way beside the brook. Not a few citizens going or coming from Athens meet us, for this is really one of the parks and breathing s.p.a.ces of the closely built city. The Athenians and Greeks in general live in a land of such natural beauty that they take this loveliness as a matter of course. Very seldom do their poets indulge in deliberate descriptions of "beautiful landscapes"; but none the less the fair things of nature have penetrated deeply into their souls. The constant allusions in Homer and the other masters of song to the great storm waves, the deep shades of the forest, the crystal books, the pleasant rest for wanderers under the shade trees, the plains bright with spring flowers, the ivy twining above a grave, the lamenting nightingale, the chirping cicada, tell their own story; men seldom describe at length what is become warp and woof of their inmost lives. The mere fact that the Greeks dwell CONSTANTLY in such a beautiful land, and have learned to love it so intensely, makes frequent and set descriptions thereto seem trivial.

171. Plato's Description of the Walk by the Ilissus.--Nevertheless occasionally this inborn love of the glorious outer world must find its expression, and it is of these very groves along he Ilissus that we have one of the few "nature pieces" in Athenian literature.

As the plodding steeds take their way let us recall our Plato--his "Ph?drus," written probably not many years before this our visit.

Socrates is walking with Phaedrus outside the walls, and urges the latter: "Let us go to the Ilissus and sit down in some quiet spot."

"I am fortunate," answers Phaedrus, "in not having my sandals on, and, as you never have any, we may go along the brook and cool our feet. This is the easiest way, and at midday is anything but unpleasant." He adds that they will go on to the tallest plane tree in the distance, "where are shade and gentle breezes, and gra.s.s whereon we may either sit or lie.... The little stream is delightfully clear and bright. I can fancy there might well be maidens playing near [according to the local myth of Boreas's rape of Orithyia]." And so at last they come to the place, when Socrates says: "Yes indeed, a fair and shady resting place it is, full of summer sounds and scents. There is the lofty and spreading plane tree, and the agnus castus, high and cl.u.s.tering in the fullest blossom and the greatest fragrance, and the stream which flows beneath the plane tree is deliciously cool to the feet. Judging by the ornaments and images [set] about, this must be a spot sacred to Achelous and the Nymphs; moreover there is a sweet breeze and the gra.s.shoppers are chirruping; and the greatest charm of all is the gra.s.s like a pillow, gently sloping to the head."[*]

[*]Jewett, translator; slightly altered.

172. The Athenian Love of Country Life.--So the two friends had sat them down to delve in delightful profundities; but following the bridle path, the little brook and its groves end for us all too soon. We are in the open country around Athens, and the fierce rays of Helios beat strongly on our heads. We are outside the city, but by no means far from human life. Farm succeeds farm, for the land around Athens has a goodly population to maintain, and there is a round price for vegetables in the Agora. Truth to tell, the average Athenian, though he pretends to love the market, the Pnyx, the Dicasteries, and the Gymnasia, has a shrewd hankering for the soil, and does not care to spend more time in Athens then necessary.

Aristophanes is full of the contrasts between "country life" and "city life" and almost always with the advantage given the former.

Says his Strepsiades (in "The Clouds"), "A country life for me--dirty, untrimmed, lolling around at ease, and just abounding in bees and sheep and oil cake." His Diceaepolis ("Acharnians") voices clearly the independence of the farmer: "How I long for peace.[*] I'm disgusted with the city; and yearn for my own farm which never bawled out [as in the markets] 'buy my coals' or 'buy my vinegar'

or 'oil,' or KNEW the word 'buy,' but just of itself produced everything." And his Trygaeus (in "The Peace") states the case better yet: "Ah! how eager I am to get back into the fields, and break up my little farm with the mattock again...[for I remember]

what kind of a life we had there; and those cakes of dried fruits, and the figs, and the myrtles, and the sweet new wine, and the violet bed next to the well, and the olives we so long for!"

[*]I.e. the end of the Peloponnesian War, which compelled the farming population to remove inside the walls.

There is another reason why the Athenians rejoice in the country.

The dusty streets are at best a poor playground for the children, the inner court of the house is only a respectable prison for the wife. In the country the lads can enjoy themselves; the wife and the daughters can roam about freely with delightful absence of convention. There will be no happier day in the year than when the master says, "Let us set out for the farm."

173. Some Features of the Attic Country.--Postponing our examination of Athenian farmsteads and farming methods until we reach some friendly estate, various things strike us as we go along the road.

One is the skilful system of irrigation,--the numerous watercourses drawn especially from the Cephisus, whereby the agriculturists make use of every possible sc.r.a.p of moisture for the fields, groves, and vineyards. Another is the occasional olive tree we see standing, gnarled and venerable, but carefully fenced about; or even (not infrequently) we see fences only with but a dead and utterly worthless stump within. Do not speak lightly of these "stumps,"

however. They are none the less "moriai"--sacred olive trees of Athena, and carefully tended by public wardens.[*] Contractors are allowed to take the fruit of the olive trees under carefully regulated conditions; but no one is allowed to remove the stumps, much less hew down a living tree. An offender is tried for "impiety" before the high court of the Areopagus, and his fate is pretty surely death, for the country people, at least, regard their sacred trees with a fanatical devotion which it would take long to explain to a stranger.

[*]Athenians loved to dwell on the "divine gift" of the olive.

Thus Euripides sang ("Troades," 799):--

In Salamis, filled with the foaming Of billows and murmur of bees, Old Telamon stayed from his roaming Long ago, on a throne of the seas, Looking out on the hills olive laden, Enchanted, where first from the earth The gray-gleaming fruit of the Maiden Athena had birth.

--Murray, translator.

The hero Telamon was reputed an uncle of Achilles and one of the early kings of Salami.

Also upon the way one is pretty sure to meet a wandering beggar--a shrewd-eyed, bewhiskered fellow. He carries, not a barrel organ and monkey, but a blinking tame crow perched on his shoulder, and at every farmstead he halts to whine his nasal ditty and ask his dole.

Good people, a handful of barley bestow On the child of Apollo, the sleek sable crow; Or a trifle of whet, O kind friends, give;-- Or a wee loaf of bread that the crow may live.

It is counted good luck by the housewife to have a chance to feed a "holy crow," and the owner's pickings are goodly. By the time we have left the beggar behind us we are at the farm whither our excursion has been tending.

174. An Attic Farmstead.--We are to inspect the landed estate of Hybrias, the son of Xanthippus. It lies north of Athens on the slopes of Anchesmus, one of the lesser hills which roll away toward the marble-crowned summits of Pentelicus. Part of the farm lands lie on the level ground watered by the irrigation ditches; part upon the hillsides, and here the slopes have been terraced in a most skilful fashion in order to make the most of every possible inch of ground, and also to prevent any of the precious soil from being washed down by the torrents of February and March. The owner is a wealthy man, and has an extensive establishment; the farm buildings--once whitewashed, but now for the most part somewhat dirty--wander away over a large area. There are wide courts, deep in manure, surrounded by barns; there are sties, haymows, carefully closed granaries, an olive press, a grain mill, all kinds of stables and folds, likewise a huge irregularly shaped house wherein are lodged the numerous slaves and the hired help. The general design of this house is the same as of a city house--the rooms opening upon an inner court, but naturally its dimensions are ampler, with the ampler land s.p.a.ce.

Just now the courtyard is a noisy and animated sight. The master has this moment ridden in, upon one of his periodic visits from Athens; the farm overseer has run out to meet him and report, and half a dozen long, lean hunting dogs--Darter, Roarer, Tracker, Active, and more[*]--are dancing and yelping, in the hope that their owner will order a hare hunt. The overseer is pouring forth his usual burden of woe about the inefficient help and the lack of rain, and Hybrias is complaining of the small spring crop--"Zeus send us something better this summer!" While these worthies are adjusting their troubles we may look around the farm.

[*]For an exhaustive list of names for Greek dogs, see Xenophon's curious "Essay on Hunting," ch. VII, -- 5.

175. Plowing, Reaping, and Threshing.--Thrice a year the Athenian farmer plows, unless he wisely determines to let his field lie fallow for the nonce; and the summer plowing on hybrias's estate is now in progress. Up and down a wide field the ox team is going.[*]

The plow is an extremely primitive affair--mainly of wood, although over the sharpened point which forms the plowshare a plate of iron has been fitted. Such a plow requires very skilful handling to cut a good furrow, and the driver of the team has no sinecure.

[*]Mules were sometimes used for drawing the plow, but horses, it would seem, never.

In a field near by, the hinds are reaping a crop of wheat which was late in ripening.[*] The workers are bending with semicircular sickles over their hot task; yet they form a merry, noisy crowd, full of homely "harvest songs," nominally in honor of Demeter, the Earth Mother, but ranging upon every conceivable rustic topic.

Some laborers are cutting the grain, others, walking behind, are binding into sheaves and piling into clumsy ox wains. Here and there a sheaf is standing, and we are told that this is left "for luck," as an offering to the rural Field Spirit; for your farm hand is full of superst.i.tions. Also amid the workers a youth is pa.s.sing with a goodly jar of cheap wine, to which the harvesters make free to run from time to time for refreshment.