Rambles and Studies in Greece Part 6

[Ill.u.s.tration: Looking Toward the Sea from the Soros, Marathon]

Like almost every view in Greece, the prospect from this mound is full of beauty and variety-everywhere broken outlines, everywhere patches of blue sea, everywhere silence and solitude. Byron is so much out of fashion now, and so much more talked about than read-though even that notice of him is fast disappearing-that I will venture to remind the reader of the splendid things he has said of Greece, and especially of this very plain of Marathon. He was carried away by his enthusiasm to fancy a great future possible for the country, and to believe that its desolation and the low condition of the inhabitants were simply the result of Turkish tyranny, and not of many natural causes conspiring for twenty centuries. He paints the Greek brigand or pirate as many others have painted the "n.o.ble savage," with the omission of all his meaner vices. But in spite of all these faults, who is there who has felt as he the affecting aspects of this beautiful land-the tomb of ancient glory-the home of ancient wisdom-the mother of science, of art, of philosophy, of politics-the champion of liberty-the envy of the Persian and the Roman-the teacher, even still, of modern Europe? It is surely a great loss to our generation, and a bad sign of its culture, that the love of more modern poets has weaned them from the study of one not less great in most respects, but far greater in one at least-in that burning enthusiasm for a national cause, in that red-hot pa.s.sion for liberty which, even when misapplied, or wasted upon unworthy objects, is ever one of the n.o.blest and most stirring instincts of higher man.

But Byron may well be excused his raving about the liberty of the Greeks, for truly their old conflict at Marathon, where a few thousand ill-disciplined men repulsed a larger number of still worse disciplined Orientals, without any recondite tactics-perhaps even without any very extraordinary heroism-how is it that this conflict has maintained a celebrity which has not been equalled by any of the great battles of the world from that day down to our own? The courage of the Greeks, as I have elsewhere shown,(77) was not of the first order. Herodotus praises the Athenians in this very battle for being the first Greeks that dared to look the Persians in the face. Their generals all through history seem never to feel sure of victory, and always endeavor to harangue their soldiers into a fury. Instead of advising coolness, they especially incite to rage-_???? p??s???e?_, says one of them in Thucydides-as if any man not in this state would be sure to estimate the danger fully, and run away. It is, indeed, true that the ancient battles were hand to hand, and therefore parallel to our charges of bayonets, which are said to be very seldom carried out by two opposing lines, as one of them almost always gives way before the actual collision takes place. This must often have occurred in Greek battles, for in one fought at Amphipolis Brasidas lost seven men; at a battle at Corinth, mentioned by Xenophon-an important battle, too-the slain amounted to eight;(78) and these battles were fought before the days when whole armies were composed of mercenaries, who spared one another, as Ordericus Vitalis says, "for the love of G.o.d, and out of good feeling for the fraternity of arms." So, then, the loss of 192 Athenians, including some distinguished men, was rather a severe one. As to the loss of the Persians, I so totally disbelieve the Greek accounts of such things that it is better to pa.s.s it by in silence.

Perhaps most readers will be astonished to hear of the Athenian army as undisciplined, and of the science of war as undeveloped, in those times.

Yet I firmly believe this was so. The accounts of battles by almost all the historians are so utterly vague, and so childishly conventional, that it is evident that these gentlemen were not only quite ignorant of the science of war, but could not easily find any one to explain it to them.

We know that the Spartans-the most admired of all Greek warriors-were chiefly so admired because they devised the system of subordinating officers to one another within the same detachment, like our gradation from colonel to corporal. Orders were pa.s.sed down from officer to officer, instead of being bawled out by a herald to a whole army. But this superiority of the Spartans, who were really disciplined, and went into battle coolly, like brave men, certainly did not extend to strategy, but was merely a question of better drill. As soon as any real strategist met them they were helpless. Thus Iphicrates, when he devised Wellington's plan of meeting their attacking column in line, and using missiles, succeeded against them, even without firearms: thus Epaminondas, when he devised Napoleon's plan of ma.s.sing troops on a single point, while keeping his enemy's line occupied, defeated them without any considerable struggle. As for that general's great battle of Mantinea, the ancient Rossbach, which seems really to have been introduced by some complicated strategical movements, we owe our partial knowledge to the grudging aid of the soldier Xenophon. But both generals were in the distant future when the battle of Marathon was being fought.

Yet what signifies all this criticism? In spite of all skepticism, in spite of all contempt, the battle of Marathon, whether badly or well fought, and the troops at Marathon, whether well or ill trained, will ever be more famous than any other battle or army, however important or gigantic its dimensions. Even in this very war, the battles of Salamis and Plataea were vastly more important and more hotly contested. The losses were greater, the results were more enduring, yet thousands have heard of Marathon to whom the other names are unknown. So much for literary ability-so much for the power of talking well about one's deeds. Marathon was fought by Athenians; the Athenians eclipsed the other Greeks as far as the other Greeks eclipsed the rest of the world, in literary power. This battle became the literary property of the city, hymned by poet, cited by orator, told by aged nurse, lisped by stammering infant; and so it has taken its position, above all criticism, as one of the great decisive battles which a.s.sured the liberty of the West against Oriental despotism.

The plain in the present day is quite bare of trees, and, as Colonel Leake observed, appears to have been so at the time of the battle, from the vague account of its evolutions. There was a little corn and a few other crops about the great tumulus; and along the seash.o.r.e, whither we went to bathe, there was a large herd of cows and oxen-a sight not very usual in Greece. When we rushed into the shallow blue water, striving to reach swimming depth, we could not but think of the scene when Kynaegirus and his companions rushed in armed to stop the embarkation of the Persians. On the sh.o.r.e, then teeming with ships of war, with transports, with fighting and flying men, there was now no sign of life, but ourselves in the water, and the lazy cattle and their silent herdsmen looking upon us in wonder; for, though very hot, it was only May, and the modern Greek never thinks it safe to bathe till at least the end of June-in this like his Italian neighbor. There was not a single ship or boat in the straits; there was no sign of life or of population on the coast of Euba. There was everywhere that solitude which so much struck Byron, as it strikes every traveller in Modern Greece. There was not even the child or beggar, with coins and pieces of pottery, who is so troublesome about Italian ruins, and who has even lately appeared at the Parthenon, the theatre at Argos, and a few other places in Greece. We asked the herdsman for remnants of arms or pieces of money: he had seen such things picked up, but knew nothing of their value. Lord Byron tells us he was offered the purchase of the whole plain (six miles by two) for about 900. It would have been a fine speculation for an antiquarian: but I am surprised, as he was, rather at the greatness than at the smallness of the price. The Greek Government might very well, even now, grant the fee-simple to any one who would pay the ordinary taxes on property, which are not, I was told, very heavy. But still the jealousy of the nation would not tolerate a foreign speculator.

I have already spoken (p. 154) of the position of the pa.s.s of Daphne, and how it leads the traveller over the ridge which separates the plain of the Kephissus from the Thriasian plain. I have also spoken at length of the country about the Kephissus, with its olive woods and its nightingales.

When we go through the pa.s.s of Daphne-of its monastery I shall speak in another chapter-a perfectly new view opens before us. We see under us the Thriasian plain, well covered with ripening corn and other crops; we see at the far side of the crescent-shaped bay the remains of Eleusis. Behind it, and all round to the right up to where we stand, is an amphitheatre of hills-the spurs of Mount Parnes, which from Phyle reach due south down to where we stand, and due west to the inland of the Thriasian plain, till they meet and are confounded with the slopes of Cithaeron, which extend for miles away behind Eleusis. On the sea-side, to our left, lies the island of Salamis, so near the coast that the sea seems a calm inland lake, lying tortuously between the hills.

Many points of Greek history become plain to us by this view. We see how true was the epithet "rocky Salamis," for the island, though it looks very insignificant on our maps, contains lofty mountains, with very bare and rocky sides. The student of Greek geography in maps should note this feature. Thus, Ithaca on the map does not suggest the real Ithaca, which from most points looks like a high and steep mountain standing out of the sea. We begin also to see how Salamis was equally _convenient_ (as the Irish say) to both Megara and Attica, if we consider that Eleusis was strictly a part of Attica. The harbor of the Peiraeus, for example, would be quite useless if an enemy were watching it from Salamis. But we also come to see the sense of the old legend, that Eleusis had originally a separate king or government from that of Athens, and that the two cities once carried on war against each other. The towns are but a few miles apart; but their respective plains are so distinctly and completely separated by the pa.s.s of Daphne, that not one acre of the territory of Eleusis can be seen from Athens, nor of Athens from Eleusis. So also, lastly, we come to feel how natural is the remark of Thucydides, that the population of Athens, when the Lacedaemonians invaded Attica, and came no farther than the Thriasian plain, did not feel the terrors of a hostile invasion, as the enemy was not in sight; but when he crossed the pa.s.s, and began to ravage Acharnae and the vale of Kephissus, then indeed, though Eleusis was just as near, and just as much their own, they felt the reality of the invasion, and were for the first time deeply dejected. This is a good example of that combined farness and nearness which is so characteristic about most neighboring cities in Greece.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Salamis from Across the Bay]

The wretched modern village of Eleusis is picturesquely situated near the sea, on the old site, and there are still to be seen the ruins, not only of the famous temple of Demeter, but also of the Propylaea, built apparently in imitation of that of Mnesicles on the Acropolis at Athens, though the site of both temple and Propylaea are at Eleusis low, and in no way striking.

These celebrated ruins are wretchedly defaced. Not a column or a wall is now standing, and we can see nothing but vast fragments of pillars and capitals, and a great pavement, all of white marble, along which the ancient wheel-tracks are distinctly visible. There are also underground vaults of small dimensions, which, the people tell you, were intended for the Mysteries. We that knew what vast crowds attended there would not give credence to this ignorant guess; and indeed we knew from distinct evidence that the great ceremony took place in a large building specially constructed for the purpose. The necessary darkness was obtained by performing the more solemn rites at night; not by going down beneath the surface of the earth.

The Greek _savants_ have at last laid open, and explained, the whole plan of the temple, which was built by Ictinus, in Pericles's time, but apparently restored after a destructive fire by Roman architects copying faithfully the ancient style. The excavators have shown that the shrine had strange peculiarities. And this is exactly what we should expect. For although no people adhered more closely to traditional forms in their architecture, no people were more ready to modify these forms with a view to practical requirements. Thus, as a rule, the cella, or inner chamber of the temple, only contained the statue of the G.o.d, and was consequently small and narrow. In the temple at Eleusis has been found a great inner chamber about 59 yards by 54, hewn out of the rock in the rear of the edifice, and capable of accommodating a large a.s.sembly.(79) Here then it seems the initiated-probably those of the higher degree, _epoptae_ as they were called-witnessed those services "which brought them peace in this world, and a blessed hope for the world to come."

The way into the temple was adorned with two Propylaea-one of the cla.s.sical period, and by Philo (311 B. C.), another set up by a Roman, App. Claudius Pulcher, in 48 B. C., after you had pa.s.sed through the former. The great temple, raised upon a natural platform, looks out toward Salamis, and the narrow line of azure which separates it from the land. Turning to the left as you stand at the temple front, the eye wanders over the rich plain of Eleusis, now dotted over with villages, and colored (in April) with the rich brown of ploughing and the splendid green of sprouting wheat. This plain had multiplied its wealth manifold since I first saw it, and led us to hope that the peasants were waking up to the great market which is near them at Athens. The track of the old sacred way along the Thriasian plain is often visible, for much of the sea-coast is marshy, so the road was cut out in many places along the spurs of the rocky hill of Daphne. The present road goes between the curious salt-lakes (Rheitoi) and the sh.o.r.e-salt-lakes full of sea-fish, and evidently fed by great natural springs, for there is a perpetual strong outflow to the tideless sea. I know not whether this natural curiosity has been explained by the learned.

It is, of course, the celebrated Mysteries-the _Greater Eleusinia_, as they were called-which give to the now wretched village of Eleusis, with its hopeless ruins, so deep an interest. This wonderful feast, handed down from the remotest antiquity, maintained its august splendor all through the greater ages of Greek history, down to the times of decay and trifling-when everything else in the country had become mean and contemptible. Even Cicero, who was of the initiated himself, a man of wide culture and of a skeptical turn of mind-even Cicero speaks of it as _the_ great product of the culture of Athens. "Much that is excellent and divine," says he,(80) "does Athens seem to me to have produced and added to our life, but nothing better than those Mysteries, by which we are formed and moulded from a rude and savage life to humanity; and indeed in the Mysteries we perceive the real principles of life, and learn not only to live happily, but to die with a fairer hope." These are the words of a man writing, as I have said; in the days of the ruin and prostration of Greece. Can we then wonder at the enthusiastic language of the Homeric Hymn,(81) of Pindar,(82) of Sophocles,(83) of Aristophanes,(84) of Plato,(85) of Isocrates,(86) of Chrysippus(87)? Every manner of writer-religious poet, worldly poet, skeptical philosopher, orator-all are of one mind about this, far the greatest of all the religious festivals of Greece.

To what did it owe this transcendent character? It was not because men here worshipped exceptional G.o.ds, for the worship of Demeter and Cora was an old and widely diffused cult all over Greece: and there were other Eleusinia in various places. It was not because the ceremony consisted of mysteries, of hidden acts and words, which it was impious to reveal, and which the initiated alone might know. For the habit of secret worship was practised in every state, where special clans were charged with the care of special secret services, which no man else might know. Nay, even within the ordinary homes of the Greeks there were these Mysteries. Neither was it because of the splendor of the temple and its appointments, which never equalled the Panathenaea at the Parthenon, or the riches of Delphi, or Olympia. There is only one reasonable cause, and it is that upon which all our serious authorities agree. The doctrine taught in the Mysteries was a faith which revealed hopeful things about the world to come; and which-not so much as a condition, but as a consequence, of this clearer light, this higher faith-made them better citizens and better men. This faith was taught them in the Mysteries through symbols,(88) through prayer and fasting, through wild rejoicings; but, as Aristotle expressly tells us, it was reached not by intellectual persuasion, but by a change into a new moral state-in fact, by being spiritually revived.

Here, then, we have the strangest and most striking a.n.a.logy to our religion in the Greek mythology; for here we have a higher faith publicly taught,-any man might present himself to be initiated,-and taught, not in opposition to the popular creed, but merely by deepening it, and showing to the ordinary worldling its spiritual power. The belief in the G.o.ddess Demeter and her daughter, the queen of the nether world, was, as I have said, common all over Greece; but even as nowadays we are told that there may be two kinds of belief of the same truths-one of the head and another of the heart-just as the most excellent man of the world, who believes all the creeds of the Church, is called an unbeliever, in the higher sense, by our Evangelical Christians; so the ordinary Greek, though he prayed and offered at the Temple of Demeter, was held by the initiated at the Mysteries to be wallowing in the mire of ignorance, and stumbling in the night of gloom-he was held to live without real light, and to die without hope, in wretched despair.(89)

[Ill.u.s.tration: Temple of Mysteries, Eleusis]

The very fact that it was not lawful to divulge the Mystery has prevented the many writers who knew it from giving us any description by which we might gain a clear idea of this wonderful rite. We have hints of various sacred vessels, of various priests known by special technical names; of dramatic representations of the rape of Cora, and of the grief of her mother; of her complaints before Zeus, and the final reconciliation. We hear of scenes of darkness and fear, in which the hopeless state of the unbelievers was portrayed; of light and glory, to which the convert attained, when at last his eyes were opened to the knowledge of good and evil.

But all these things are fragmentary glimpses, as are also the doctrines hinted of the Unity of G.o.d, and of atonement by sacrifice. There remains nothing clear and certain, but the unanimous verdict as to the greatness, the majesty, and the awe of the services, and as to the great spiritual knowledge and comfort which they conveyed. The consciousness of guilt was not, indeed, first taught by them, but was felt generally, and felt very keenly by the Greek mind. These Mysteries were its Gospel of reconciliation with the offended G.o.ds.

CHAPTER VIII.

FROM ATHENS TO THEBES-THE Pa.s.sES OF PARNES AND OF CITHaeRON, ELEUTHERae, PLATaeA.

No ordinary student, looking at the map of Attica and Botia, can realize the profound and complete separation between these two countries. Except at the very northern extremity, where the fortified town of Oropus guarded an easy boundary, all the frontier consists not merely of steep mountains, but of parallel and intersecting ridges and gorges, which contain indeed a few alpine valleys, such as that of noe, but which are, as a rule, wild and barren, easily defensible by a few against many, and totally unfit for the site of any considerable town, or any advanced culture. As I before stated, the traveller can pa.s.s through by Dekelea, or he can pa.s.s most directly by Phyle, the fort which Thrasybulus seized when he desired to reconquer Athens with his democratic exiles. The historians usually tell us "that he seized _and fortified_ Phyle"; a statement which the present aspect of it seems to render very doubtful indeed. It is quite impossible that the great hill-fort of the very finest Attic building, which is still remaining and admired by all, could have been "knocked up" by Thrasybulus and his exiles. The careful construction and the enormous extent of the building compel us to suppose it the work of a rich state, and of a deliberate plan of fortification. It seems very unlikely, for these reasons, that it was built after the days of Thrasybulus, or that so important a point of attack should have been left unguarded in the greater days of Athens. I am therefore convinced that the fort, being built long before, and being, in fact, one of the well-known fortified demes through Attica, had been to some extent dismantled, or allowed to fall into decay, at the end of the Peloponnesian War, but that its solid structure made it a matter of very little labor for the exiles to render it strong and easily defensible.

This is one of the numerous instances in which a single glance at the locality sets right an historical statement that has eluded suspicion for ages. The fort of Phyle, like that of Eleutherae, of which I shall speak, and like those of Messene and of Orchomenus, is built of square blocks of stone, carefully cut, and laid together without a particle of rubble or cement, but so well fitted as to be able to resist the wear of ages better than almost any other building. I was informed by M. emile Burnouf, that in the case of a fort at Megara, which I did not see, there are even polygonal blocks, of which the irregular and varying angles are fitted with such precision that it is difficult, as in the case of the Parthenon, to detect the joinings of the stones. The blocks are by no means so colossal in these buildings as in the great ruins about Mycenae; but the fitting is closer, and the sites on which we find them very lofty, and with precipitous ascents. This style of building is specially mentioned by Thucydides (I. 93) as being employed in the building of the walls of the Peiraeus in the days of Themistocles, apparently in contrast to the rude and hurried construction of the city walls. But he speaks of the great stones being not only cut square, but fastened with clamps of iron soldered with lead. I am not aware that any traces of this are found in the remaining hill-forts. The walls of the Peiraeus have, unfortunately, long since almost totally disappeared.

The way from Athens to Phyle leads north-west through the rich fields of the old deme of Acharnae; and we wonder at first why they should be so noted as charcoal-burners. But as we approach Mount Parnes, we find that the valley is bounded by tracts of hillside fit for nothing but pine forest. A vast deal of wooding still remains; it is clear that these forests were the largest and most convenient to supply Athens with firewood or charcoal. As usual, there are many glens and river-courses through the rugged country through which we ascend-here and there a village, in one secluded nook a little monastery, hidden from the world, if not from its cares. There is the usual Greek vegetation beside the path; not perhaps luxuriant to our Northern eyes, but full of colors of its own-the glowing anemone, the blood-red poppy, the delicate cistus on a rocky surface, with foliage rather gray and silvery than green. The pine-trees sound, as the breeze sweeps up the valleys, and lavish their vigorous fragrance through the air.

There is something inexpressibly bracing in this solitude, if solitude it can be called, where the forest speaks to the eye and ear, and fills the imagination with the mystery of its myriad forms. Now and then too the peculiar cadence of those bells which hardly varies throughout all the lands of the south, tells you that a flock of goats, or goat-like sheep, is near, attended by solemn, silent children, whose eyes seem to have no expression beyond that of vague wonder in their gaze. These are the flocks of some village below, not those of the nomad Vlachs, who bring with them their tents and dogs, and make gipsy encampments in the unoccupied country.

At last we see high over us the giant fort of Phyle-set upon a natural precipice, which defends it amply for half its circuit. The point of occupation was well chosen, for while within sight of Athens, and near enough to afford a sure refuge to those who could escape by night and fly to the mountain, its distance (some 15 miles) and the steep and rugged ascent, made it impossible for weak and aged people to crowd into it and mar the efficiency of its garrison. With the increase of his force Thrasybulus began successful raids into the plain, then a rapid movement to Peiraeus; ultimately, as may be read in all histories, he accomplished the liberation of his native city.

We did not pa.s.s into Botia by the way of Phyle, preferring to take the longer route through Eleusis. But no sooner had we left Eleusis than we began to ascend into the rough country, which is the preface to the wild mountain pa.s.ses of Cithaeron. It is, indeed, very difficult to find where one range of mountains begins and another ends, anywhere throughout Greece. There is generally one high peak, which marks a whole chain or system of mountains, and after which the system is called; but all closer specification seems lost, on account of the immense number of ridges and points which crowd upon the view in all directions. Thus the chain of Parnes, after throwing out a spur toward the south, which divides the Athenian and the Thriasian plains, sweeps round the latter in a sort of amphitheatre, and joins the system of Cithaeron (Kitheron), which extends almost parallel with Parnes. A simple look at a good map explains these things by supplementing mere description. The only thing which must be specially enforced is, that all the region where a plain is not expressly named is made up of broken mountain ridges and rocky defiles, so that it may fairly be called an alpine country. A fellow-traveller, who had just been in Norway, was perpetually struck with its resemblance to the Norwegian highlands.

I will only mention one other fact which ill.u.s.trates the consequent isolation. We have a river Kephissus in the plain of Athens. As soon as we cross the pa.s.s of Daphne we have another Kephissus in the Thriasian plain.

Within a day's journey, or nearly so, we have another Kephissus, losing itself in the lake Copais, not far from Orchomenus. This repet.i.tion of the same name shows how little intercourse people have in the country, how little they travel, and how there is no danger of confusing these identical names. Such a fact, trifling as it is, ill.u.s.trates very powerfully the isolation which the Greek mountains produce.

There is a good road from Athens to Thebes,-a very unusual thing in Greece,-and we were able to drive with four horses, after a fashion which would have seemed very splendid in old days. But, strange to say, the old Greek fashion of driving four horses abreast, two being yoked to the pole, and two outriggers, or _pa??se????_, as they were called, has disappeared from Greece, whereas it still survives in Southern Italy. On the other hand the Greeks are more daring drivers than the Italians, being indeed braver in all respects, and, when a road is to be had, a very fast pace is generally kept up.

As usual, the country was covered with brushwood, and with numbers of old gnarled fir-trees, which bore everywhere upon their stems the great wounds of the hatchet, made to extract the resin for the flavoring of wine. Rare flocks of goats, with their peculiar, dull, tinkling bells-bells which have the same make and tone all through Calabria, through Sicily, and through Greece-were the only sign of human occupation or of population.

But when you look for houses, there is nothing in the shape of wall or roof, save an occasional station, where, but a few years since, soldiers were living, to keep the road safe from bandits. At last we came upon the camp of some Vlach shepherds-a thing reminding one far more of a gipsy camp than anything else-a few dark-brown skins falling over two upright poles, so as to form a roof-shaped tent, of which the entrance looked so absolutely black as to form quite a patch in the landscape. There is mere room for lying in these tents by night; and, I suppose, in the summer weather most of these wild shepherds will not condescend even to this shelter.(90)

After some hours' drive we reached a gra.s.sy dell, shaded by large plane-trees, where a lonely little public-house-if I may so call it-of this construction invited us to stop for watering the horses, and inspecting more closely the owner. There was the usual supply of such places-red and white wine in small casks, excellent fresh water, and _luc.u.mia_, or Turkish delight. Not only had the owner his belt full of knives and pistols, but there was hanging up in a sort of rack a most picturesque collection of swords and guns-all made in Turkish fashion, with ornamented handles and stocks, and looking as if they might be more dangerous to the sportsman than to his game. While we were being served by this wild-looking man, in this suspicious place-in fact, it looked like the daily resort of bandits-his wife, a comely young woman, dressed in the usual dull blue, red, and white, disappeared through the back way, and hid herself among the trees. This fear of being seen by strangers-no doubt caused by jealousy among men, and, possibly, by an Oriental tone in the country-is a striking feature through most parts of Greece. It is said to be a remnant of the Turkish influence, but seems to me to lie deeper, and to be even an echo of the old Greek days. The same feeling is prevalent in most parts of Sicily. In the towns there you seldom see ladies in the streets; and in the evenings, except when the play-going public is returning from the theatre, there are only men visible.

After leaving this resting-place, about eleven in the morning, we did not meet a village, or even a single house till we had crossed Cithaeron, after six in the evening, and descried the modern hamlet of Plataea on the slopes to our left. But once or twice through the day a string of four or five mules, with bright, richly striped rugs over their wooden saddles, and men dressed still more brightly sitting lady-fashion on them, were threading their way along the winding road. The tinkling of the mules' bells and the wild Turkish chants of the men were a welcome break in the uniform stillness of the journey. The way becomes gradually wilder and steeper, though often descending to cross a shady valley, which opens to the right and left, in a long, narrow vista, and shows blue far-off hills of other mountain chains. One of these valleys was pointed out to us as noe, an outlying deme of Attica, fortified in Periclean days, and which the Peloponnesian army attacked, as Thucydides tells us, and failed to take, on their invasion of Attica at the opening of the war. There are two or three strong square towers in this valley, close to the road, but not the least like any old Greek fort, and quite incapable of holding any garrison. The site is utterly unsuitable, and there seemed no remains of any walled town.

These facts led me to reflect upon the narrative of Thucydides, who evidently speaks of noe as the border fort of Attica, and yet says not a word about Eleutherae, which is really the border, the great fort, and the key to the pa.s.ses of Cithaeron. The first solution which suggests itself is, that the modern Greeks have given the wrong names to these places, and that by noe Thucydides really means the place now known as Eleutherae.(91) Most decidedly, if the fort which is now there existed at the opening of the Peloponnesian War, he cannot possibly have overlooked it in his military history of the campaign. And yet it seems certain that we must place the building of this fort at the epoch of Athens's greatness, when Attic influence was paramount in Botia, and when the Athenians could, at their leisure, and without hindrance, construct this fort, which commands the pa.s.ses into Attica, before they diverge into various valleys, about the region of the so-called noe.

For, starting from Thebes, the slope of Cithaeron is a single unbroken ascent up to the ridge, through which, nearly over the village of Plataea, there is a cut that naturally indicates the pa.s.s. But when the traveller has ascended from Thebes to this point he finds a steep descent into a mountainous and broken region, where he must presently choose between a gorge to the right or to the left, and must wander about zigzag among mountains, so as to find his way toward Athens. And although I did not examine all the pa.s.ses accurately, it was perfectly obvious that, as soon as the first defile was left behind, an invader could find various ways of eluding the defenders of Attica, and penetrating into the Thriasian plain, or, by Phyle, into that of Athens. Accordingly, the Athenians choose a position of remarkable strength, just inside the last crowning ascent, where all the ways converge to pa.s.s the crest of the mountain into Plataea.

Here a huge rock, interposing between the mountains on each side, strives, as it were, to bar the path, which accordingly divides like a torrent bed, and pa.s.ses on either side, close under the walls of the fort which occupies the top of the rock. From this point the summit of the pa.s.s is about two or three miles distant, and easily visible, so that an outpost there, commanding a view of the whole Theban plain, could signal any approach to the fort with ample notice.

The position of the fort at Phyle, above described, is very similar. It lies within a mile of the top of the pa.s.s, on the Attic side, within sight of Athens, and yet near enough to receive the scouts from the top, and resist all sudden attack. No force could invade Attica without leaving a large force to besiege it.

Looking backward into Attica, the whole mountainous tract of noe is visible; and, though we cannot now tell the points actually selected, there is no difficulty in finding several which could easily pa.s.s the signal from Eleutherae to Daphne, and thence to Athens. We know that fire signals were commonly used among the Greeks, and we can here see an instance where news could be telegraphed some thirty miles over a very difficult country in a few moments. Meanwhile, as succors might be some time in arriving, the fort was of such size and strength as to hold a large garrison, and stop any army which could not afford to mask it, by leaving there a considerable force.(92)

The site was, of course, an old one, and the name Eleutherae, if correctly applied to this fort, points to a time when some mountain tribe maintained its independence here against the governments on either side in the plain, whence the place was called the "_Free_" place, or _Liberties_ (as we have the term in Dublin). There is further evidence of this in a small irregular fort which was erected almost in the centre of the larger and later enclosure. This older fort is of polygonal masonry, very inferior to the other, and has fallen into ruins, while the later walls and towers are in many places perfect. The outer wall follows the nature of the position, the principle being to find everywhere an abrupt descent from the fortification, so that an a.s.sault must be very difficult. On the north side, where the rock is precipitous, the wall runs along in a right line; whereas on the south side, over the modern road, it dips down the hill, and makes a semicircular sweep, so as to crown the steepest part of a gentler ascent. Thus the whole enclosure is of a half-moon shape. But while the straight wall is almost intact, the curved side has in many places fallen to pieces. The building is the most perfect I have ever seen of the kind, made of square hewn stones, evidently quarried on the rock itself. The preserved wall is about 200 yards long, six and a half feet wide, and apparently not more than ten or twelve feet high; but, at intervals of twenty-five or thirty yards, there are seven towers twice as deep as the wall, while the path along the battlement goes right through them. Each tower has a doorway on the outside of it, and close beside this there is also a doorway in the wall, somewhat larger. These doorways, made by a huge lintel, about seven and a half feet long, laid over an aperture in the building, with its edges very smoothly and carefully cut, are for the most part absolutely perfect. As I could see no sign of doorposts or bolts-a feature still noticeable in all temple gates-it is evident that wooden doors and door-posts were fitted into these doorways-a dangerous form of defence, were not the entrances strongly protected by the towers close beside them and over them. There were staircases, leading from the top of the wall outward, beside some of the towers. The whole fort is of such a size as to hold not merely a garrison, but also the flocks and herds of the neighboring shepherds, in case of a sudden and dangerous invasion; and this, no doubt, was the primary intention of all the older forts in Greece and elsewhere.(93)

The day was, as usual, very hot and fine, and the hills were of that beautiful purple blue which Sir F. Leighton so well reproduces in the backgrounds of his Greek pictures; but a soft breeze brought occasional clouds across the sun, and varied the landscape with deeper hues. Above us on each side were the n.o.ble crags of Cithaeron, with their gray rocks and their gnarled fir-trees. Far below, a bright mountain stream was rushing beside the pa.s.s into Attica; around us were the great walls of the old Greeks, laid together with that symmetry, that beauty, and that strength which marks all their work. The ma.s.sive towers are now defending a barren rock; the enclosure which had seen so many days of war and rapine was lying open and deserted; the whole population was gone long centuries ago.

There is still _liberty_ there, and there is peace-but the liberty and the peace of solitude.

A short drive from Eleutherae brought us to the top of the pa.s.s,(94) and we suddenly came upon one of those views in Greece which, when we think of them, leave us in doubt whether the instruction they give us, or the delight, is the greater. The whole plain of Thebes, and, beyond the intervening ridge, the plain of Orchomenus, with its shining lake, were spread out before us. The sites of all the famous towns were easily recognizable. Plataea only was straight beneath us, on the slopes of the mountain, and as yet hidden by them. The plan of all Botia unfolded itself with great distinctness-two considerable plains, separated by a low ridge, and surrounded on all sides by chains of mountains. On the north there are the rocky hills which hem in Lake Copais from the Euban strait, and which nature had pierced before the days of history, aided by Minyan engineers, whose _?ata???a_, as they were called, were tunnelled drains, which drew water from thousands of acres of the richest land. On the east, where we stood, was the gloomy Cithaeron-the home of awful mythical crimes, and of wild Baccha.n.a.lian orgies, the theme of many a splendid poem and many a striking tragedy. To the south lay the pointed peaks of Helicon-a mountain (or mountain chain) full of sweetness and light, with many silver streams coursing down its sides to water the Botian plains, and with its dells, the home of the Muses ever since they inspired the bard of Ascra-the home, too, of Eros, who long after the reality of the faith had decayed, was honored in Thespiae by the crowds of visitors who went up to see the famous statue of the G.o.d by Praxiteles. This Helicon separates Botia from the southern sea, but does not close up completely with Cithaeron, leaving way for an army coming from the isthmus, where Leuctra stood to guard the entrance. Over against us, on the west, lay, piled against one another, the dark wild mountains of Phocis, with the giant Parna.s.sus raising its snow-clad shoulders above the rest. But, in the far distance, the snowy Corax of aetolia stood out in rivalry, and showed us that Parna.s.sus is but the advanced guard of the wild alpine country, which even in Greece proved too rugged a nurse for culture.

We made our descent at full gallop down the windings of the road-a most risky drive; but the coachman was daring and impatient, and we felt, in spite of the danger, that peculiar delight which accompanies the excitement of going at headlong pace. We had previously an even more perilous experience in coming down the steep and tortuous descent from the Laurium mines to Ergasteria in the train, where the sharp turns were apparently full of serious risk. Above our heads were wheeling great vultures-huge birds, almost black, with lean, featherless heads-which added to the wildness of the scene. After this rapid journey we came upon the site of Plataea, marked by a modern village of the name, on our left, and below us we saw the winding Asopus, and the great scene of one of the most famous of all Greek battles-the battle of Plataea. This little town is situated much higher up the mountain than I had thought, and a glance showed us its invaluable position as an outpost of Athenian power toward Botia. With the top of the pa.s.s within an hour's walk, the Plataeans could, from their streets, see every movement over the Theban plain: they could see an invasion from the south coming up by Leuctra; they could see troops marching northward toward Tanagra and nophyta. They could even see into the Theban Cadmea, which lay far below them, and then telegraph from the top of the pa.s.s to Eleutherae, and from thence to Athens. We can, therefore, understand at once Plataea's importance to Athens, and why the Athenians built a strong fortified post on their very frontier, within easy reach of it.

All the site of the great battle is well marked and well known-the fountain Gargaphia, the so-called island, and the Asopus, flowing lazily in a deep-cut sedgy channel, in most places far too deep to ford. Over our heads were still circling the great black vultures; but, as we neared the plain, we flashed a large black-and-white eagle, which we had not seen in Attica. There is some cultivation between Plataea and Thebes, but strangely alternating with wilderness. We were told that the people have plenty of spare land, and, not caring to labor for its artificial improvement, till a piece of ground once, and then let it lie fallow for a season or two.

The natural richness of the Botian soil thus supplies them with ample crops. But we wondered to think how impossible it seems even in these rich and favored plains to induce a fuller population.

The question of the depopulation of Greece is no new one-it is not due to the Slav inroads-it is not due to Turkish misrule. As soon as the political liberties of Greece vanished, so that the national talent found no scope in local government-as soon as the riches of Asia were opened to Greek enterprise-the population diminished with wonderful rapidity. All the later Greek historians and travellers are agreed about the fact.(95) "The whole of Greece could not put in the field," says one, "as many soldiers as came of old from a single city." "Of all the famous cities of Botia," says another, "but two-Thespiae and Tanagra-now remain." The rest are mostly described as ruins (_??e?p?a_). No doubt, every young enterprising fellow went off to Asia as a soldier or a merchant; and this taste for emigrating has remained strong in the race till the present day, when most of the business of Constantinople, of Smyrna, and of Alexandria is in the hands of Greeks. But, in addition to this, the race itself seems at a certain period to have become less prolific; and this, too, is a remarkable feature lasting to our own time. In the several hospitable houses in which I was entertained through the country I sought in vain for children. The young married ladies had their mothers to keep them company, and this was a common habit; the daughter does not willingly separate from her mother. But, whether by curious coincidence or not, the absence of children in these seven or eight houses was very remarkable. I have been since a.s.sured that this was an accident, and that large families are very common in Greece. The statistics show a considerable increase of population of late years.(96)

The evening saw us entering into Thebes-the town which, beyond all others, retains the smallest vestiges of antiquity. Even the site of the Cadmea is not easily distinguishable. Two or three hillocks in and about the town are all equally insignificant, and all equally suitable, one should think, for a fortress. The discovery of the old foundations of the walls has, however, determined the matter, and settled the site to be that of the highest part of the present town. Its strength, which was celebrated, must have been due nearly altogether to artificial fortification, for though the old city was in a deeper valley to the north-west, yet from the other side there can never have been any ascent steep enough to be a natural rampart. The old city was, no doubt, always more renowned for eating and drinking than for art or architecture,(97) and its momentary supremacy under Epaminondas was too busy and too short a season to be employed in such pursuits. But, besides all this, and besides all the ruin of Alexander's fury, the place has been visited several times with the most destructive earthquakes, from the last of which (in 1852) it had not recovered when I first saw it. There were still through the streets houses torn open, and walls shaken down; there were gaps made by ruins, and half-restored shops.