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Title: Primitive Athens as described by Thucydides
Author: Jane Ellen Harrison
Release date: June 7, 2024 [eBook #73789]
Language: English
Original publication: Cambridge: University Press, 1906
Credits: deaurider and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRIMITIVE ATHENS AS DESCRIBED BY THUCYDIDES ***
Primitive Athens
as described by Thucydides
CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS WAREHOUSE,
C. F. CLAY, MANAGER.
London: FETTER LANE, E.C.
Glasgow: 50, WELLINGTON STREET.
[Illustration]
Leipzig: F. A. BROCKHAUS.
New York: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
Bombay and Calcutta: MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD.
[_All Rights reserved._]
[Illustration]
Primitive Athens
as described by Thucydides
by
JANE ELLEN HARRISON,
HON. D.LITT. (DURHAM), HON. LL.D. (ABERDEEN),
STAFF LECTURER AND SOMETIME FELLOW OF NEWNHAM COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.
Cambridge
at the University Press
1906
Cambridge:
PRINTED BY JOHN CLAY, M.A.
AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS.
VILHELMO DOERPFELD
HUNC QUALEMCUNQUE LIBELLUM
ANIMO SALTEM NON INGRATO
DEDICAT
J. E. H.
Πηγὴν μὲν πολύκρουνον Ἀθηναίης ἀνέφηνας
πηγὴ δ’ αὐτὸς ἔφυς καλλιρόου σοφίης.
PREFACE.
My _Mythology and Monuments of Ancient Athens_ has been for some time
out of print. I have decided to issue no second edition. A word of
explanation is therefore needed as to the purport of the present pages.
Since my book on Athens was published Dr Frazer’s great commentary on
Pausanias has appeared, and for scholars has made a second edition, so
far as my book was a commentary on Pausanias, superfluous. The need for
a popular handbook has been met by Professor Ernest Gardner’s _Ancient
Athens_. It happens however that, on a question cardinal for the
understanding of the early history of Athens, I hold views diametrically
opposed to both these writers. These views I have felt bound to state.
This cardinal question is the interpretation of an account given by
Thucydides of the character and limits of ancient Athens. Both Dr Frazer
and Professor Ernest Gardner hold by an interpretation which though
almost universally prevalent down to recent times has been, in my
opinion, disproved by the recent excavations of the German Archaeological
Institute at Athens and the explanation of their results by Professor
Dörpfeld. An adequate examination of the new theory could perhaps
hardly be expected in such a book as Professor Gardner’s, and it will
not be found there. Dr Frazer, it is needless to say, stated Professor
Dörpfeld’s view with fulness and fairness, so far as was then possible or
consistent with his main purpose. But the passage of Thucydides deserves
and requires a more full consideration than it could receive incidentally
in an edition of Pausanias. Moreover at the time when Dr Frazer visited
Athens the excavations were only in process, and the results had not been
fully developed when his book was published. It was therefore impossible
for Dr Frazer to give in one place such a connected account of the new
evidence and theory as in a question of this magnitude seems desirable.
The view I set forth is not my own but that of Professor Dörpfeld. In
the light of his examination of the passage of Thucydides what had been
a mere ‘Enneakrounos Episode’ interesting only to specialists, became at
once a vital question affecting the whole history of primitive Athens.
Professor Dörpfeld’s views convinced me even before they were confirmed
by excavation. I expressed my adhesion in my _Mythology and Monuments
of Ancient Athens_, but I did not then see their full significance. For
English readers these views have been so far stated as heresies to be
combated, or as rash speculations needing danger-signals. The danger
seems to me the other way. To my mind this is a case where adherence to
traditional views can only leave us in straits made desperate by the
advancing tide of knowledge. I have therefore set forth Prof. Dörpfeld’s
views, not apologetically, but in full confidence, as illuminating truths
essentially conciliatory and constructive.
Save in the Conclusion, on the question of the _metastasis_, I have added
to the topographical argument nothing of my own. If here and there I
have been unable to resist the temptation of wandering into bye-paths
of religion and mythology, I trust the reader will pardon one who is by
nature no topographer. For topography all that I have done is to set
forth as clearly and fully as I could a somewhat intricate argument.
* * * * *
This task—not very easy because alien to my own present work—has been
lightened by the help of many friends. Professor Dörpfeld has found time
while excavating at Pergamos to go over my proofs and to assure me that
his views are correctly represented. The German Archaeological Institute
has generously placed at my disposal the whole of their official
publications, from which my illustrations are mainly drawn. The like
facilities in the matter of the Acropolis excavations have been kindly
accorded me by Dr Kabbadias. Other sources are noted in their place. In
the matter of re-drawing, in restorations and the modification of plans
I have again to thank Mrs Hugh Stewart for much difficult and delicate
work, work which could only be done by one who is archaeologist as well
as artist.
My debt, by now habitual, to Dr Verrall will appear throughout the book.
Mr Gilbert Murray has written for me the Critical Note and has made many
fruitful suggestions. Mr F. M. Cornford has helped me throughout, and has
revised the whole of my proofs. And last, for any degree of accuracy that
may have been attained in the printing, I am indebted to the skill and
care of the University Press.
JANE ELLEN HARRISON.
NEWNHAM COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE. _18 January, 1906._
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
INTRODUCTORY. pp. 1-4
CHAPTER I.
THE ANCIENT CITY, ITS CHARACTER AND LIMITS.
Account of Thucydides. Its incidental character and its object.
The scattered _burghs_. The _Synoikismos_. The definition of
the ancient city. The fourfold evidence of its small size.
The ancient city was the Acropolis of the times of Thucydides
with an _addendum_ ‘towards about South.’ Excavation of the
plateau of the Acropolis confirms the statement of Thucydides.
Natural features of the Acropolis. The ‘Pelasgic’ circuit wall.
Analogy with other ‘Mycenaean’ _burghs_ or fortified hills.
Evidence of excavations North of the Erechtheion and South of
the Parthenon. Mythical master-builders. Giants and Kyklopes.
Pela_s_goi and Pela_r_goi. The storks of the _poros_ pediment.
Pela_s_gikon and Pela_r_gikon. The _addendum_ to the South. The
Enneapylai and the approach to the citadel. pp. 5-36
CHAPTER II.
THE SANCTUARIES IN THE CITADEL.
The sanctuaries of the ‘other deities.’ The later Erechtheion
built to enclose a complex of cults. Prof. Dörpfeld’s
elucidation of its plan. The hero-tomb of Kekrops. Kekrops
and the Kekropidae. The hero-snake. The snakes of the _poros_
pediment of the Hecatompedon. The Pandroseion. Pandrosos. The
‘Maidens.’ The _semeia_. The sacred olive. The ‘sea.’ The
trident-mark. Its primitive significance and connection with
Poseidon. Poseidon and Erechtheus. Athena. Herakles. pp. 37-65
CHAPTER III.
THE SANCTUARIES OUTSIDE THE CITADEL.
Meaning of the words ‘towards this part.’ The four sanctuaries
(1) the Sanctuary of Zeus Olympios, (2) the Pythion. Their
position interdependent. The site of the Pythion certain.
Evidence from the Ion of Euripides. The Long Rocks. Evidence
of Pausanias. Evidence of recent excavations. The cave of
Apollo. Votive tablets dedicated by Thesmothetae. Apollo
Patroös and Pythios. The two sanctuaries of Zeus Olympios.
Deucalion and Zeus Meilichios. Zeus and Apollo. Ion and the
Ionians. The cave of Pan. The Sanctuary of Aglauros. (3) The
Sanctuary of Ge. (4) The Sanctuary of _Dionysos-in-the-Marshes_
to be distinguished from the Sanctuary of Dionysos Eleuthereus.
The two festivals of Dionysos at Athens. The two theatres and
precincts. The orchestra in the agora. Evidence of excavations.
The Iobakcheion and the earlier Dionysion. The earlier
Dionysion a triangular precinct—containing wine-press, altar,
temple. The Lenaion and the Lenaia. The Chytroi. The ‘other
sanctuaries.’ The Amyneion. Amynos and Asklepios. Dexion. The
sanctuary of the Semnae Theai. The sanctuary of Aphrodite
Pandemos. Evidence of inscriptions. Oriental origin of the
worship. pp. 66-110
CHAPTER IV.
THE SPRING KALLIRRHOË-ENNEAKROUNOS ‘NEAR’ THE CITADEL.
The spring Kallirrhoë. The water-supply of Athens. Geological
structure of the _Limnae_. Site of Kallirrhoë fixed in Pnyx
rock. Efforts to reinforce water-supply before time of
tyrants. Water-works of the tyrants. Polycrates at Samos. The
conduit of Peisistratos from the upper Ilissos to the Pnyx.
Comparison with conduit of Polycrates. The great reservoir. The
Fountain-House. Water-works of Theagenes at Megara. Analogy
between his Fountain-House and Enneakrounos. Evidence of
vase-paintings. The central square in front of Enneakrounos.
The Panathenaic way. The agora and its development. Argument
resumed. pp. 111-136
CONCLUSION. pp. 137-158
CRITICAL NOTE p. 159
BIBLIOGRAPHY pp. 160-163
INDEXES
1. GENERAL pp. 164-167
2. OF CLASSICAL AUTHORS pp. 167-168
STATUE OF ‘MAIDEN’ FROM THE ACROPOLIS _Frontispiece_
MAP (Fig. 46) _between_ pp. 136 _and_ 137
INTRODUCTORY.
The traveller who visits Athens for the first time will naturally,
if he be a classical scholar, devote himself at the outset to the
realization of the city of Perikles. His task will here be beset by no
serious difficulties. The Acropolis, as Perikles left it, is, both from
literary and monumental evidence, adequately known to us. Archaeological
investigation has now but little to add to the familiar picture, and
that little in matters of quite subordinate detail. The Parthenon,
the Propylaea, the temple of Nike Apteros, the Erechtheion (this last
probably planned, though certainly not executed by Perikles) still remain
to us; their ground-plans and their restorations are for the most part
architectural certainties. Moreover, even outside the Acropolis, the
situation and limits of the city of Perikles are fairly well ascertained.
The Acropolis itself was, we know, a fortified sanctuary within a
larger walled city. This city lay, as the oracle in Herodotus[1] said,
‘wheel-shaped’ about the axle of the sacred hill. Portions of this
outside wall have come to light here and there, and the foundations of
the great Dipylon Gate are clearly made out, and are marked in every
guide-book. Inside the circuit of these walls, in the inner Kerameikos,
whose boundary-stone still remains, lay the agora. Outside is still to be
seen, with its street of tombs, the ancient cemetery.
Should the sympathies of the scholar extend to Roman times, he has
still, for the making of his mental picture, all the help imagination
needs. Through the twisted streets of modern Athens the beautiful Tower
of the Winds is his constant land-mark; Hadrian, with his Olympieion,
with his triumphal Arch, with his Library, confronts him at every turn;
when he goes to the great Stadion to see ‘Olympian’ games or a revived
‘Antigone,’ when he looks down from the Acropolis into the vast Odeion,
Herodes Atticus cannot well be forgotten. Moreover, if he really cares to
know what Athens was in Roman days, the scholar can leave behind him his
Murray and his Baedeker and take for his only guide the contemporary of
Hadrian, Pausanias.
But returning, as he inevitably will, again and again to the Acropolis,
the scholar will gradually become conscious, if dimly, of another and an
earlier Athens. On his plan of the Acropolis he will find marked certain
fragments of very early masonry, which, he is told, are ‘Pelasgian.’ As
he passes to the south of the Parthenon he comes upon deep-sunk pits
railed in, and within them he can see traces of these ‘Pelasgian’ walls
and other masonry about which his guide-book is not over-explicit. To the
south of the Propylaea, to his considerable satisfaction, he comes on a
solid piece of this ‘Pelasgian’ wall, still above ground. East of the
Erechtheion he will see a rock-hewn stairway which once, he learns, led
down from the palace of the ancient prehistoric kings, the ‘strong house
of Erechtheus.’ South of the Erechtheion he can make out with some effort
the ground plan of an early temple; he is told that there exist bases of
columns belonging to a yet earlier structure, and these he probably fails
to find.
With all his efforts he can frame but a hazy picture of this earlier
Acropolis, this citadel before the Persian wars. Probably he might drop
the whole question as of merely antiquarian interest—a matter to be
noted rather than realized—but that his next experience brings sudden
revelation. Skilfully sunk out of sight—to avoid interfering with his
realization of Periklean Athens—is the small Acropolis Museum. Entering
it, he finds himself in a moment actually within that other and earlier
Athens dimly discerned, and instantly he knows it, not as a world of
ground-plans and fragmentary Pelasgic fortifications, but as a kingdom of
art and of humanity vivid with colour and beauty.
As he passes in eager excitement through the ante-rooms he will glance,
as he goes, at the great blue lion and the bull, at the tangle of
rampant many-coloured snakes, at the long-winged birds with their prey
still in beak and talon; he will pause to smile back at the three
kindly ‘Blue-beards,’ he will be glad when he sees that the familiar
Calf-Carrier has found his feet and his name, he will note the long
rows of solemn votive terra-cottas, and, at last, he will stand in
the presence of those Maiden-images, who, amid all that coloured
architectural splendour, were consecrate to the worship of the Maiden.
The Persian harried them, Perikles left them to lie beneath his feet, yet
their antique loveliness is untouched and still sovran. They are alive,
waiting still, in hushed, intent expectancy—but not for us. We go out
from their presence as from a sanctuary, and henceforth every stone of
the Pelasgian fortress where they dwelt is, for us, sacred.
But if he leave that museum aglow with a new enthusiasm, determined
to know what is to be known of that antique world, the scholar will
assuredly be met on the threshold of his enquiry by difficulties and
disillusionment. By difficulties, because the information he seeks is
scattered through a mass of foreign periodical literature, German and
Greek; by disillusionment, because to the simple questions he wants to
ask he can get no clear, straightforward answer. He wants to know what
was the nature and extent of the ancient city, did it spread beyond the
Acropolis, if so in what direction and how far? what were the primitive
sanctuaries inside the Pelasgic walls, what, if any, lay outside and
where? Where was the ancient city well (Kallirrhoë), where the agora,
where that primitive orchestra on which, before the great theatre was
built, dramatic contests took place? Straightway he finds himself plunged
into a very cauldron of controversy. The ancient agora is placed by
some to the north, by others to the south, by others again to the west.
The question of its position is inextricably bound up, he finds to his
surprise, with the question as to where lay the Enneakrounos, a fountain
with which hitherto he has had no excessive familiarity; the mere mention
of the Enneakrounos brings either a heated discussion or, worse, a
chilling silence.
This atmosphere of controversy, electric with personal prejudice,
exhilarating as it is to the professed archaeologist, plunges the
scholar in a profound dejection. His concern is not _jurare in verba
magistri_—he wants to know not _who_ but _what_ is right. Two questions
only he asks. First, and perhaps to him unduly foremost, What, as to the
primitive city, is the literary testimony of the ancients themselves,
and preferably the testimony not of scholiasts and second-hand
lexicographers, but of classical writers who knew and lived in Athens,
of Thucydides, of Pausanias? Second, To that literary testimony, what of
monumental evidence has been added by excavation?
* * * * *
It is to answer these two questions that the following pages are written.
It is the present writer’s conviction that controversy as to the main
outlines of the picture, though perhaps at the outset inevitable, is,
with the material now accessible, an anachronism; that the facts stand
out plain and clear and that between the literary and monumental evidence
there is no discrepancy. The plan adopted will therefore be to state as
simply as may be what seems the ascertained truth about the ancient city,
and to state that truth unencumbered by controversy. Then, and not till
then, it may be profitable to mention other current opinions, and to
examine briefly what seem to be the errors in method which have led to
their acceptance.
CHAPTER I.
THE ANCIENT CITY, ITS CHARACTER AND LIMITS.
By a rare good fortune we have from Thucydides himself an account of the
nature and extent of the city of Athens in the time of the kingship. This
account is not indeed as explicit in detail as we could wish, but in
general outline it is clear and vivid. To the scholar the remembrance of
this account comes as a ray of light in his darkness. If he cannot find
his way in the mazes of archaeological controversy, it is at least his
business to read Thucydides and his hope to understand him.
The account of primitive Athens is incidental. Thucydides is telling how,
during the Peloponnesian War, when the enemy was mustering on the Isthmus
and attack on Attica seemed imminent, Perikles advised the Athenians to
desert their country homes and take refuge in the city. The Athenians
were convinced by his arguments. They sent their sheep and cattle to
Euboea and the islands; they pulled down even the wood-work of their
houses, and themselves, with their wives, their children, and all their
moveable property, migrated to Athens. But, says Thucydides[2], this
‘flitting’ went hard with them; and why? Because ‘they had always, most
of them, been used to a country life.’
This habit of ‘living in the fields,’ this country life was,
Thucydides goes on to explain, no affair of yesterday; it had been so
from the earliest times. All through the days of the kingship from
Kekrops to Theseus the people had lived scattered about in small
communities—‘village communities’ we expect to hear him say, for he is
insisting on the habit of country life; but, though he knows the word
‘village’ (κώμη) and employs it in discussing Laconia elsewhere[3], he
does not use it here. He says the inhabitants of Athens lived ‘in towns’
(κατὰ πόλεις), or, as it would be safer to translate it, ‘in burghs.’
It is necessary at the outset to understand clearly what the word _polis_
here means. We use the word ‘town’ in contradistinction to country, but
from the account of Thucydides it is clear that people could live in
a _polis_ and yet lead a country life. Our word _city_ is still less
appropriate; ‘city’ to us means a very large town, a place where people
live crowded together. A _polis_, as Thucydides here uses the word, was
a community of people living on and immediately about a fortified hill
or citadel—a citadel-community. The life lived in such a community was
essentially a country life. A _polis_ was a citadel, only that our word
‘citadel’ is over-weighted with military association.
Athens then, in the days of Kekrops and the other kings down to Theseus,
was one among many other citadel-communities or burghs. Like the other
scattered burghs, like Aphidna, like Thoricus, like Eleusis, it had its
own local government, its own council-house, its own magistrates. So
independent were these citadel-communities that, Thucydides tells us, on
one occasion Eleusis under Eumolpos actually made war on Athens under
Erechtheus.
So things went on till the reign of Theseus and his famous Synoikismos,
the Dwelling-together or Unification. Theseus, Thucydides says, was a
man of ideas and of the force of character necessary to carry them out.
He substituted the one for the many; he put an end to the little local
councils and council-houses and centralized the government of Attica
in Athens. Where the government is, thither naturally population will
flock. People began to gather into Athens, and for a certain percentage
of the population town-life became fashionable. Then, and not till then,
did the city become ‘great,’ and that ‘great’ city Theseus handed down
to posterity. ‘And from that time down to the present day the Athenians
celebrate to the Goddess at the public expense a festival called the
Dwelling-together[4].’
One unified city and one goddess, _the goddess_ who needs no name.
Their unity and their greatness the Athenians are not likely to forget,
but will they remember the time before the union, when Athens was but
Kekropia, but one among the many scattered citadel-communities? Will they
remember how small was their own beginning, how limited their burgh, how
impossible—for that is the immediate point—that it should have contained
in its narrow circuit a large town population? Thucydides clearly is
afraid they will _not_. There was much to prevent accurate realization.
The walls of Themistocles, when Thucydides wrote, enclosed a _polis_ that
was not very much smaller than the modern town; the walls of the earlier
community, the old small burgh, were in part ruined. It was necessary
therefore, if the historian would make clear his point, namely, the
smallness of the ancient burgh and its inadequacy for town-life, that he
should define its limits. This straightway he proceeds to do. Our whole
discussion will centre round his definition and description, and at the
outset the passage must be given in full. Immediately after his notice
of the festival of the ‘Dwelling-together,’ celebrated to ‘the Goddess,’
Thucydides[5] writes as follows:
‘_Before this, what is now the citadel was the city, together
with what is below it towards about south. The evidence is
this. The sanctuaries are in the citadel itself, those of other
deities as well[6] (as the Goddess). And those that are outside
are placed towards this part of the city more (than elsewhere).
Such are the sanctuary of Zeus Olympios, and the Pythion, and
the sanctuary of Ge, and that of Dionysos-in-the-Marshes (to
whom is celebrated the more ancient Dionysiac Festival on the
12th day in the month Anthesterion, as is also the custom
down to the present day with the Ionian descendants of the
Athenians); and other ancient sanctuaries also are placed here.
And the spring which is now called ~Nine-Spouts~, from the
form given it by the despots, but which formerly, when the
sources were open, was named ~Fair-Fount~—this spring (I say),
being near, they used for the most important purposes, and even
now it is still the custom derived from the ancient (habit) to
use the water before weddings and for other sacred purposes.
Because of the ancient settlement here, the citadel (as well as
the present city) is still to this day called by the Athenians
the City._’
In spite of certain obscurities, which are mainly due to a
characteristically Thucydidean over-condensation of style, the main
purport of the argument is clear. Thucydides, it will be remembered,
wants to prove that the city before Theseus was, because of its small
size, incapable of holding a large town population. This small size not
being evident to the contemporaries of Thucydides, he proceeds to define
the limits of the ancient city. He makes a statement and supports it by
fourfold evidence.
The statement that he makes is that _the ancient city comprised the
present citadel together with what is below it towards about south_. The
fourfold evidence is as follows:
1. The sanctuaries are in the citadel itself, those of other deities as
well as the Goddess.
2. Those ancient sanctuaries that are outside are placed towards this
part of the present city more than elsewhere. Four instances of such
outside shrines are adduced.
3. There is a spring near at hand used from of old for the most important
purposes, and still so used on sacred occasions.
4. The citadel, as well as the present city, was still in the time of
Thucydides called the ‘city.’
We begin with the statement as to the limits of the city. Not till we
clearly understand exactly what Thucydides states, how much and how
little, can we properly weigh the fourfold evidence he offers in support
of his statement.
‘_Before this what is now the citadel was the city, together with what is
below it towards about south._’ The city before Theseus was the citadel or
acropolis of the days of Thucydides, _plus_ something else. The citadel
or acropolis needed then, and needs now, no further definition. By it
is clearly meant not the whole hill to the base, but the plateau on the
summit enclosed by the walls of Themistocles and Kimon together with the
fortification out-works on the west slope still extant in the days of
Thucydides. But the second and secondary part of the statement is less
clearly defined. The words neither give nor suggest, to us at least, any
circumscribing line; only a direction, and that vague enough, ‘towards
about south.’ It is a point at which the scholar naturally asks, whether
archaeology has anything to say?
But before that question is asked and answered, it should be noted that
from the shape of the sentence alone something may be inferred. That the
present citadel is coextensive with the old city is the main contention.
We feel that Thucydides might have stopped there and yet made his point,
namely, the smallness of that ancient city. But Thucydides is a careful
man, he remembers that the two were not quite coextensive. To the old
city must be reckoned an additional portion below the citadel (τὸ ὑπ’
αὐτήν), a portion that, as will later be seen, his readers might be
peculiarly apt to forget; so he adds it to his statement. But, by the
way it is hung on, we should naturally figure that portion as ‘not only
subordinate to the acropolis, but in some way closely incorporated with
it. In relation to the acropolis, this additional area, to justify the
arrangement of the words of Thucydides, should be a part neither large
nor independent[7].’
Thus much can be gathered from the text; it is time to see what
additional evidence is brought by archaeology.
Thucydides was, according to his lights, scrupulously exact. It happens,
however, that in the nature of things he could not, as regards the limits
of the ancient city, be strictly precise. The necessary monuments were
by his time hidden deep below the ground. His first and main statement,
that one portion of the old city was coextensive with the citadel of his
day, is not quite true. This upper portion of the old burgh was a good
deal smaller; all the better for his argument, had he known it! Thanks
to systematic excavation we know more about the limits of the old city
than Thucydides himself, and it happens curiously enough that this more
exact and very recent knowledge, while it leads us to convict Thucydides
of a real and unavoidable inexactness, gives us also the reason for his
caution. It explains to us why, appended to his statement about the city
and the citadel, he is careful to put in the somewhat vague _addendum_,
‘_together with what is below it towards about south_.’
To us to-day the top of the Acropolis appears as a smooth plateau
sloping gently westwards towards the Propylaea, and this plateau is
surrounded by fortification walls, whose clean, straight lines show them
to be artificial. Very similar in all essentials was the appearance
presented by the hill to the contemporaries of Thucydides, but such was
not the ancient Acropolis. What manner of thing the primitive hill was
has been shown by the excavations carried on by the Greek Government
from 1885-1889. The excavators, save when they were prevented by the
foundations of buildings, have everywhere dug down to the living rock,
every handful of the _débris_ exposed has been carefully examined, and
nothing more now remains for discovery.
When the traveller first reaches Athens he is so impressed by the
unexpected height and dominant situation of Lycabettus, that he wonders
why it plays so small a part in classical record. Plato[8] seems to have
felt that it was hard for Lycabettus to be left out. In his description
of primitive Athens he says, ‘in old days the hill of the Acropolis
extended to the Eridanus and Ilissus, and included the Pnyx on one side
and Lycabettus as a boundary on the opposite side of the hill,’ and
there is a certain rough geological justice about Plato’s description.
All these hills are spurs of that last offshoot of Pentelicus, known in
modern times as Turkovouni. Yet to the wise Athena, Lycabettus was but
building material; she was carrying the hill through the air to fortify
her Acropolis, when she met the crow[9] who told her that the disobedient
sisters had opened the chest, and then and there she dropped Lycabettus
and left it ... to the crows.
A moment’s reflection will show why the Acropolis was chosen and
Lycabettus left. Lycabettus is a good hill to climb and see a sunset
from. It has not level space enough for a settlement. The Acropolis has
the two _desiderata_ of an ancient burgh, space on which to settle, and
easy defensibility.
The Acropolis, as in neolithic days the first settlers found it, was,
it will be seen in Fig. 1, a long, rocky ridge, broken at intervals[10].
It could only be climbed with ease on the west and south-west sides,
the remaining sides being everywhere precipitous, though in places not
absolutely inaccessible. For a primitive settlement it was an ideal
situation. Two things remained for the settlers to do: first, they
had to level the surface by hewing away jagged rocks and filling up
cracks with earth and stones to make sites for their houses and their
sanctuaries; and second, they had to supplement what nature had already
done in the way of fortification; here and there to make the steep
rocks steeper, build a wall round their settlement, and, above all,
fortify that accessible west and south-west end and build an impregnable
gateway. Kleidemos[11], writing in the fifth century B.C., says, ‘they
levelled the Acropolis and made the Pelasgicon, which they built round it
nine-gated.’ They levelled the surface, they built a wall round it, they
furnished the fortification wall with gates. We begin for convenience
sake with the wall. In tracing its course the process of levelling is
most plainly seen. The question of the gates will be taken last.
[Illustration: FIG. 1.]
In the plan in Fig. 2 is shown what excavations have laid bare of the
ancient Pelasgic fortress. We see instantly the inexactness of the main
statement of Thucydides. It is not ‘_what is now the Citadel_’ that was
the main part of the old burgh, but something substantially smaller,
smaller by about one-fifth of the total area. We see also that this
Thucydides could not know. The Pelasgic wall following the broken outline
of the natural rock was in his days covered over by the artificial
platform reaching everywhere to the wall of Kimon. At one place, and one
only, in the days of Thucydides, did the Pelasgic wall come into sight,
and there it still remains above ground, as it has always been, save
when temporarily covered by Turkish out-works. This visible piece is the
large fragment (A), 6 metres broad, to the south of the present Propylaea
and close to the earlier gateway (G). In the days of Thucydides it stood
several metres high. Of this we have definite monumental evidence. The
south-east corner of the wall of the south-west wing of the present
Propylaea is bevelled away[12] so as to fit against this Pelasgic wall,
and the bevelling can be seen to-day. This portion of the Pelasgic wall
is of exceptional strength and thickness, doubtless because it was part
of the gateway fortifications, the natural point of attack.
[Illustration: FIG. 2.]
Save for this one exception, the Pelasgic walls lie now, as they did
in the day of Thucydides, below the level of the present hill, and
their existence was, until the excavations began, only dimly suspected.
Literary tradition said there was a circuit wall, but where this circuit
wall ran was matter of conjecture; bygone scholars even placed it _below_
the Acropolis. Now the outline, though far from complete, is clear
enough. To the south and south-west of the Parthenon there are, as seen
on the plan, substantial remains and what is gone can be easily supplied.
On the north side the remains are scanty. The reason is obvious; the line
of the Pelasgic fortification on the south lies well within the line of
Kimon’s wall; the Pelasgic wall was covered in, but not intentionally
broken down. To the north it coincided with Themistocles’ wall, and was
therefore, for the most part, pulled down or used as foundation.
But none the less is it clear that the centre of gravity of the ancient
settlement lay to the north of the plateau. Although the north wall
was broken away, it is on this north side that the remains which _may_
belong to a royal palace have come to light. The plan of these remains
cannot in detail be made out, but the general analogy of the masonry to
that of Tiryns and Mycenae leave no doubt that here we have remains of
‘Mycenaean’ date. North-east of the Erechtheion is a rock-cut stairway
(B) leading down through a natural cleft in the rock to the plain below.
As at Tiryns and Mycenae, the settlement on the Acropolis had not only
its great entrance-gates, but a second smaller approach, accessible only
to passengers on foot, and possibly reserved for the rulers only.
Incomplete though the remains of this settlement are, the certain fact
of its existence, and its close analogy to the palaces of Tiryns and
Mycenae are of priceless value. Ancient Athens is now no longer a thing
by itself; it falls into line with all the other ancient ‘Mycenaean’
fortified hills, with Thoricus, Acharnae, Aphidna, Eleusis. The citadel
of Kekrops is henceforth as the citadel of Agamemnon and as the citadel
of Priam. The ‘strong house’ of Erechtheus is not a temple, but what the
words plainly mean, the dwelling of a king. Moreover we are dealing not
with a city, in the modern sense, of vague dimensions, but with a compact
fortified burgh.
Thucydides, though certainly convicted of some inexactness as to detail,
is in his main contention seen to be strictly true—‘_what is now the
citadel was the city_.’ Grasping this firmly in our minds we may return
to note his inexactness as to detail. By examining certain portions of
the Pelasgic wall more closely, we shall realize how much smaller was the
space it enclosed than the Acropolis as known to Thucydides.
[Illustration: FIG. 3.]
The general shape of the hill, and its subsequent alteration, are best
realized by Dr Dörpfeld’s simple illustration[13]. A vertical section
of the natural rock, it is roughly of the shape of a house (Fig. 3)
with an ordinary gable roof. The sides of the house represent the steep
inaccessible cliffs to north and south and east; the lines of the roof
slope like the lines of the upper part of the hill converging at the
middle. Suppose the sides of the house produced upwards to the height of
the roof-ridge, and the triangular space so formed filled in, we have the
state of the Acropolis when Kimon’s walls were completed. The filling in
of those spaces is the history of the gradual ‘levelling of the surface
of the hill, the work of many successive generations.’ The section in
Fig. 4 will show that this levelling up had to be done chiefly on the
north and south sides; to the east and west the living rock is near the
surface.
[Illustration: FIG. 4.]
It has already been noted that on the north side of the Acropolis the
actual remains of the Pelasgian wall are few and slight; but as the wall
of Themistocles which superseded it follows the contours of the rock,
we may be sure that here the two were nearly coincident. The wall of
Themistocles remains to this day a perpetual monument of the disaster
wrought by the Persians. Built into it opposite the Erechtheum, not by
accident, but for express memorial, are fragments of the architrave,
triglyphs and cornice of poros stone, and the marble metopes, from the
old temple of Athena which the Persians had burnt. Other memorials lay
buried out of sight, and were brought to light by the excavations of
1886. The excavators[14] were clearing the ground to the north-east of
the Propylaea. On the 6th of February, at a depth of from 3-4½ metres
below the surface, they came upon fourteen of the ‘Maidens[15].’ The
section[16] in Fig. 5 shows the place where they had slept their long
sleep. We should like to think they were laid there in all reverence
for their beauty, but hard facts compel us to own that, though their
burial may have been prompted in part by awe of their sanctity, yet the
practical Athenian did not shrink from utilizing them as material to
level up with.
The deposit, it is here clearly seen, was in three strata. Each stratum
consisted of statues and fragments of statues, inscribed bases,
potsherds, charred wood, stones, and earth. Each stratum, and this is
the significant fact, is separated from the one above it by a thin layer
of rubble, the refuse of material used in the wall of Themistocles. The
conclusion to the architect is manifest. In building the wall, perhaps
to save expense, no scaffolding was used; but, after a few courses were
laid, the ground inside was levelled up, and for this purpose what could
be better than the statues knocked down by the Persians? Headless,
armless, their sanctity was gone, their beauty uncared for. In the
topmost of the three strata—the stratum which yielded the first find of
‘Maidens’—a hoard of coins was found: thirty-five Attic tetradrachms, two
drachmas, and twenty-three obols. All are of Solon’s time except eight of
the obols, which date somewhat earlier. Besides the ‘Maidens,’ on this
north side of the Acropolis other monuments came to light, many bronzes,
and among them the lovely flat Athena[17], the beautiful terra-cotta
plaque[18] painted with the figure of a hoplite, and countless votive
terra-cottas.
[Illustration: FIG. 5.]
The excavations on the south side of the Acropolis have yielded much
that is of great value for art and for science, for our knowledge of the
extent of the Pelasgian fortification, results of the first importance.
The section in Fig. 7, taken at the south-east corner of the Parthenon,
shows the state of things revealed. The section should be compared with
the view in Fig. 6.
[Illustration: FIG. 6.]
[Illustration: FIG. 7.]
The masonry marked 2 is the foundation, deep and massive beyond all
expectation, laid, not for the Parthenon as we know it, but for that
earlier Parthenon begun before the Persian War, and fated never to be
completed. At 4 we see the great Kimonian wall as it exists to-day,
though obscured by its mediaeval casing. All this, if we want to realize
primitive Athens, we must think away. The date of Kimon’s wall is of
course roughly fixed as shortly after 469 B.C., the foundations of the
early Parthenon are certainly before the Persian War, probably after
the date of Peisistratos. We may probably, though not quite certainly,
attribute them to the time of the first democracy, the activity of
Kleisthenes[19], a period that saw the building of the theatre-shaped
Pnyx, the establishment of the new agora in the Kerameikos, and the
Stoa of the Athenians at Delphi. Laurium had just begun to yield silver
from her mines. Themistocles, before and after the war, was all for
fortification; the Alkmaeonid Kleisthenes may well have indulged an
hereditary tendency to temple building.
Save for the clearing of our minds, the date of the early
temple-foundations does not immediately concern us. Their importance is
that, but for the building of the Parthenon, early and late, we should
never apparently have had the great alteration and addition to the south
side of the hill and the ancient Pelasgian wall would never have been
covered in. Let us see how this happened[20].
We start with nothing but the natural rock, and on it the Pelasgian
wall (1). Over the natural rock is a layer of earth, marked I. Whatever
objects have been found in that layer date before the laying of the great
foundations; these objects are chiefly fragments of pottery, many of them
of ‘Mycenean’ character, and some ordinary black-figured vases.
It is decided to build a great temple, and the foundations are to be
laid. The ground slopes away somewhat rapidly, so the southern side of
the temple is to be founded on an artificial platform. The trench (_b_)
is dug in the layer of earth; then, just as on the north side of the
hill, no scaffolding is used, but as the foundations are laid course by
course, the _débris_ is used as a platform for the workmen. A supporting
wall (2) is required and built of polygonal masonry; it rises course by
course, corresponding with the platform of _débris_. And then, what
might have been expected but was apparently not foreseen, happens. The
slender wall can be raised no higher and at about the second course the
_débris_ unsupported pours over it, as seen at III.
The _débris_, unchecked, fell over as far as the old Pelasgian wall.
How high this originally stood it is not possible now to say; but, from
the fact that outside the supporting wall the layers of _débris_ again
lie horizontally, and from the analogy of another section taken further
west, which need not be discussed here, it is probable that the old wall
was raised by several new courses, and that the higher ones were of
quadrangular blocks, as restored in Fig. 7.
So far all that has been accomplished is the raising of the old Pelasgian
wall and a levelling up of the terrace to its new height. That these
terraces were raised step by step with the foundations of the Parthenon
is clear. Between each layer of earth and poros fragments—just as we have
seen in the similar circumstances of the north wall (p. 15)—is interposed
a layer of splinters and fragments of the stones used in the building of
the foundations. This can clearly be seen at II. in the section in Fig. 7.
It may seem strange that Kleisthenes, or whoever built the earlier
Parthenon, did not at once utilize the Pelasgian wall and boldly pile
up his terrace against its support. But it must be remembered that the
space between the Parthenon and the Pelasgian wall was very great; an
immense amount of _débris_ would be required for the filling up of such
a space, and it was probably more economical to build the polygonal
supporting-wall nearer to the Parthenon. Anyhow it is quite clear that
the polygonal wall was no provisional structure. Its façade shows it
was meant to be seen, and that the terrace was meant for permanent use
is clear from the fact that it is connected by a flight of steps with
the lower terrace under the Pelasgian wall (Fig. 8). It is clear that
whoever planned these steps never thought that the lower terrace would be
levelled up.
Doubtless whoever filled in the terrace to the height of the raised
Pelasgian wall believed in like manner that his work was complete. But
Kimon thought otherwise. We know for certain that it was he who built
the great final wall, the structure that remains to-day, though partly
concealed by mediaeval casing Fig. 7 (4). Plutarch[21] tells us that
after the battle of Eurymedon (469 B.C.) so much money was raised by the
sale of the spoils of the Persians that the people were able to afford to
build the south wall. We know also that this wall of Kimon was at least
as much a retaining wall to the great terrace as a fortification. For
the filling up of the space between the Pelasgian fortification and his
own wall Kimon had material sadly ample. He had the _débris_ left by the
Persians after the sacking of the Acropolis. The fragments of sculpture
and architecture that bear traces of fire are found in the strata marked
IV, and there only, for it is these strata only that were laid down after
the Persian War[22]. The last courses of ‘Kimon’s wall’ (5) were laid by
Perikles, and he it was who finally filled in the terrace to its present
level (V).
[Illustration: FIG. 8.]
The relation of the successive walls and terraces is shown by the
ground-plan in Fig. 9[23]. The double shaded lines from A to E and D show
the irregular course of the old Pelasgic wall. The dotted lines from B to
F show the polygonal supporting wall of the first terrace. It ran, as is
seen, nearly parallel to the Parthenon. Its course is lost to sight after
it passes under the new museum, but originally it certainly joined the
Pelasgic wall at C. At B was the stairway joining the two terraces. Next
came the time when, as the rubble fell over the wall, larger space was
needed, and a portion of the Pelasgic wall was utilized and raised. This
is shown by the thick black line from B to E coincident with the Pelasgic
wall; the masonry here was of quadrangular poros blocks. The coincidence
with the Pelasgic wall was only partial. At GH there jutted out an
independent angular outpost, and again at EF the new wall is separate
from the old; at FD it coincided with the earlier polygonal terrace wall.
Kimon’s wall is indicated by the outside double lines, and in the space
between these lines and the wall HEK lay the _débris_ of the Persian
War. Above that _débris_ lay a still later stratum, deposited during the
building operations of Perikles.
[Illustration: FIG. 9.]
The various terraces and walls have been examined somewhat in detail,
because their examination helps us to realize as nothing else could
how artificial a structure is the south side of the Acropolis, and
also—a point, to us, of paramount importance—how different was the early
condition of the hill from its later appearance.
Before we pass to the consideration of the second clause in the
historian’s statement, ‘_together with what is below it towards about
south_,’ it is necessary to say a word as to when the old fortress walls
were built and by whom. Kimon and Themistocles we know, but who were
these earlier master-builders?
A red-figured vase painter of the fifth century B.C. gives us what
would have seemed to a contemporary Athenian a safe and satisfactory
answer—‘There were giants in those days.’ The design in Fig. 10 is from a
skyphos[24] in the Louvre Museum. Athena is about to fortify her chosen
hill. She wears no aegis, for her work is peaceful; she has planted her
spear in the ground perhaps as a measuring rod, and she has chosen her
workman. A great giant, his name _Gigas_, inscribed over him, toils after
her, bearing a huge ‘Cyclopean’ rock. She points with her hand where he
is to lay it.
[Illustration: FIG. 10.]
On the obverse of the same vase (Fig. 11) we have a scene of similar
significance. To either side of a small tree, which marks the background
as woodland, stands a man of rather wild and uncouth appearance. The
man to the left is bearded and his name is inscribed, _Phlegyas_. The
right-hand man is younger, and obviously resembles the giant of the
obverse. He is showing to Phlegyas an object, which they both inspect
with an intent, puzzled air. And well they may. It is a builder’s
_staphyle_[25], or measuring line, weighted with knobs of lead like a
cluster of grapes; hence its name. Phlegyas[26] and his giant Thessalian
folk were the typical lawless bandits of antiquity; they plundered
Delphi, they attacked Thebes after it had been fortified by Amphion and
Zethus. But Athena has them at her hest for master-builders. All glory to
Athena!
[Illustration: FIG. 11.]
It is not only at Athens that legends of giant, fabulous workmen cluster
about ‘Mycenean’ remains. Phlegyas and his giants toil for Athena,
and at Tiryns too, according to tradition, the Kyklopes work for King
Proetus[27], and they too built the walls and Lion-Gate of Mycenae[28].
At Thebes the Kadmeia[29] is the work of Amphion and Zethus, sons of the
gods, and the fashion in which art represents Zethus as toiling is just
that of our giant on the vase. The mantle that Jason wore was embroidered,
Apollonius of Rhodes[30] tells us, with the building of Thebes,
Of river-born Antiope therein
The sons were woven, Zethus and his twin
Amphion, and all Thebes unlifted yet
Around them lay. They sought but now to set
The stones of her first building. Like one sore
In labour, Zethus on great shoulders bore
A stone-clad mountain’s crest; and there hard by
Amphion went his way with minstrelsy
Clanging a golden lyre, and twice as vast
The dumb rock rose and sought him as he passed.
Sisyphos, ancient king of Corinth, built on the acropolis of Corinth
his great palace, the Sisypheion. He is the Corinthian double of
Erechtheus with his Erechtheion. Strabo[31] was in doubt whether to
call the Sisypheion palace or temple. Like the old Erechtheion, it was
both fortress and sanctuary. In Hades for eternal remembrance, not,
as men later thought, of his sin, but of his craft as master-builder,
Sisyphos[32], like Zethus, like our giant, still rolls a huge stone
up the slope. Everywhere it is the same tale. All definite record or
remembrance of the building of ‘Cyclopean’ walls is lost; some hero-king
built them, some god, some demi-god, some giant. Just so did the devil in
ancient days build his Bridges all over England.
Tradition loves to embroider a story with names and definite details.
The prudent Attic vase-painter gives us only a nameless ‘Giant.’ Others
knew more. Pausanias[33] had heard the builders’ actual names and tried
to fix their race. He tells us—just as he leaves the Acropolis—‘Save for
the portion built by Kimon, son of Miltiades, the whole circuit of the
Acropolis fortification was, they say, built by the Pelasgians, who once
dwelt below the Acropolis. It is said that Agrolas and Hyperbios ... and
on asking who they were, I could only learn that in origin they were
Sikelians and that they migrated to Acarnania.’
Spite of the lacuna, it is clear that Agrolas and Hyperbios are the
reputed builders. The reference to Sicily dates probably from a time
when the Kyklopes had taken up their abode in the island. The two
builder-brothers remind us of Amphion and Zethus, and of their prototypes
the Dioscuri[34]. Pliny[35] tells of a similar pair, though he gives to
one of them another name. ‘The brothers Euryalos and Hyperbios were the
first to make brick-kilns and houses at Athens; before this they used
caves in the ground for houses.’
The names of the two ‘Pelasgian’ brothers are, as we know from the
evidence of vase-paintings[36], ‘giant’ names, and _Hyperbios_ is
obviously appropriate. The names leave us in the region of myth, but the
tradition that the brothers were ‘Pelasgian’ deserves closer attention.
In describing the old wall we have spoken of it as ‘Pelasgian,’ and
in this we follow classical tradition. Quoting from Hecataeus (circ.
500 B.C.), Herodotus[37] speaks of land under Hymettus as given to the
Pelasgians ‘in payment for the fortification wall which they had formerly
built round the Acropolis.’ Again, Herodotus[38] tells how when Kleomenes
King of Sparta reached Athens, he, together with those of the citizens
who desired to be free, besieged the despots who were shut up in the
Pelasgian fortification.
A Pelasgian fortification, a constant tradition that Athens was inhabited
by Pelasgians—we seem to be on solid ground. Yet on a closer examination
the evidence for connecting the name of the fortification with the name
‘Pelasgian’ crumbles. In the one official[39] inscription that we possess
the word is written, not Pelasgikon, but Pelargikon. In like manner, in
Thucydides[40], where the word occurs twice, it is written with an _r_.
Pelargikon is ‘stork-fort,’ not Pelasgian fort. The confusion probably
began with Herodotus, who was specially interested in the Pelasgians.
Why the old citadel was called ‘stork-fort’ we cannot say—there are no
storks there now—but we have one delightful piece of evidence that, to
the Athenian of the sixth century B.C., ‘_stork-fort_’ was a reality.
Immediately to the south of the present Erechtheion lie the foundations
of the ancient Doric temple[41], currently known by a pardonable
Germanism as the ‘old Athena-temple.’ For its date we have a certain
_terminus ante quem_. The colonnade was of the time of Peisistratos;
it was a later addition; the cella of the temple existed before—how
much before we do not know. The zeal and skill of Prof. Dörpfeld for
architecture, of Dʳˢ Wiegand and Schrader for sculpture, have restored to
us a picture of that ancient Doric temple all aglow with life and colour
and in essentials complete[42].
[Illustration: FIG. 12.]
Of all the marvellous fragments of early sculpture recently discovered,
none is more widely known nor more justly popular than the smiling,
three-headed monster known throughout Europe as the ‘Blue-beard.’
He belongs to the sculptures of the west pediment of the inner
pre-Peisistratean cella of the ‘old Athena-temple,’ a portion of which is
shown in Fig. 12. It is tempting to turn aside and discuss in detail the
whole pediment composition to which he belongs. It will, however, shortly
be seen (p. 37) that our argument forbids all detailed discussion of
the sanctuaries of Athena, and the pediments of her earliest temple have
therefore, for us at the moment, an interest merely incidental.
Thus much, however, for clearness sake may and must be said. The
design of the western pediment fell into two parts. In one angle, that
to the left of the spectator, Herakles is wrestling with Triton; the
right-hand portion, not figured here, is occupied by the triple figure of
‘Blue-beard,’ whose correct mythological name is probably Typhon[43]. He
is no protagonist, only a splendid smiling spectator. The centre of the
pediment, where, in the art of Pheidias, we should expect the interest
to culminate, was occupied by accessories, the stem of a tree on which
hung, as in vase-paintings, the bow and arrows and superfluous raiment of
Herakles.
It is a point of no small mythological interest that in this and two
other primitive pediments the protagonist is not, as we should expect,
the indigenous hero Theseus, but the semi-Oriental Herakles; but this
question also we must set aside; our immediate interest is not in the
sculptured figures of the pediment, but in the richly painted decoration
on the pediment roof above their heads.
The recent excavations on the Acropolis yielded a large number of painted
architectural fragments, the place and significance of which was at
first far from clear. Of these fragments forty were adorned with two
forms of lotus-flower; twenty had upon them figures of birds of two
sorts. Fragmentary though the birds mostly are, the two kinds (storks
and sea-eagles) are, by realism as to feathers, beak, legs, and claws,
carefully distinguished. The stork (πελαργός) in the Pelargikon is a
surprise and a delight. Was Aristophanes[44] thinking of this Pelargikon
when to the building of his Nephelokokkygia he brought
For brickmakers a myriad flight of storks.
One of the storks is given in Fig. 13. The birds in the original
fragments are brilliantly and delicately coloured. Their vivid red legs
take us to Delphi. We remember Ion[45] with his laurel crown, his bow and
arrows, his warning song to swan and eagle.
[Illustration: FIG. 13.]
There see! the birds are up: they fly
Their nests upon Parnassus high
And hither tend. I warn you all
To golden house and marble wall
Approach not. Once again my bow
Zeus’ herald-bird, will lay thee low;
Of all that fly the mightiest thou
In talon! Lo another now
Sails hitherward—a swan! Away
Away, thou red-foot!
In days when on open-air altars sacrifice smoked, and there was abundance
of sacred cakes, birds were real and very frequent presences. To the
heads of numbers of statues found on the Acropolis is fixed a sharp spike
to prevent the birds perching[46]. They were sacred yet profane.
The lotus-flowers carry us back to Egypt. The rich blending of motives
from the animal and vegetable kingdom is altogether ‘Mycenaean.’ Man in
art, as in life, is still at home with his brothers the fish, the bird,
and the flower. After this ancient fulness and warmth of life a pediment
by Pheidias strikes a chill. Its sheer humanity is cold and lonely. Man
has forgotten that
Earth is a covering to hide thee, the garment of thee.
There are two sorts of birds, two sorts of lotus-flowers, and there
are two pediments. It is natural to suppose, with Dr Wiegand, that the
eagles belonged to the east, the principal pediment. There, it will later
be seen (p. 47), were seated the divinities of the place. Our pediment
decorated the west end, the humbler seat of heroes rather than gods.
There Herakles wrestled with the Triton; there old Blue-beard—surely
a monster of the earlier slime—kept his watch; and over that ancient
struggle of hero and monster brooded the stork.
The storks themselves are there to remind us that the old name of the
citadel was Pela_r_gikon, and that Pelargikon meant ‘stork fort’;
by an easy shift it became Pela_s_gikon[47], and had henceforth an
etymologically false association with the Pelasgoi. Etymologically false,
but perhaps in fact true, for happily the analogy between the Pelargic
walls and those of Mycenae is beyond dispute, and if the ‘Mycenaeans’
were Pelasgian, the walls are, after all, Pelasgic.
We have seen that both Thucydides and the official inscription write
Pelargikon; their statements will repay examination.
* * * * *
Thucydides, after his account of the narrow limits of the city before
Theseus, returns to the main burden of his narrative, the crowding of the
inhabitants of Attica within the city walls. ‘Some few,’ he says[48],
‘indeed had dwelling places, and took refuge with some of their friends
or relations, but the most part of them took up their abode on the waste
places of the city and in the sanctuaries and hero-shrines, with the
exception of the Acropolis and the Eleusinion, and any other that might
be definitely closed. And what is called the Pelargikon beneath the
Acropolis, to dwell in which was accursed, and was forbidden in the fag
end of an actual Pythian oracle on this wise,
The Pelargikon better unused,
was, notwithstanding, in consequence of the immediate pressure thickly
populated.’
The passage comes for a moment as something of a shock. We have been
thinking of the Pelargikon as the Acropolis, we have traced its circuit
of walls _on_ the Acropolis, and now suddenly we find the two sharply
distinguished. The Acropolis, though closed, is surely not cursed. The
Acropolis is one of the definitely closed places, to which the refugees
cannot get access; the Pelargikon, though accursed, is open to them, and
they take possession of it; the two manifestly cannot be coincident. But
happily the words ‘below the Acropolis’ bring recollection, and with it
illumination. What is called the Pelargikon _below the Acropolis_ is
surely that appanage of the citadel which Thucydides in his second clause
mentions so vaguely. The ancient _polis_ comprised not only ‘_what is
now the citadel_,’ but also together with it, ‘_what is below it towards
about south_[49].’ Thucydides would have saved a world of trouble if he
had stated that ‘what is below towards the south’ _was_ the Pelargikon;
but he does not, probably because he is concerned with dimensions, not
with nomenclature.
The Pelasgikon meant originally the whole citadel, the ancient city as
defined by Thucydides. This was its meaning in the days of Herodotus.
In the Pelasgikon the tyrants were besieged (p. 25). But by the time of
Thucydides the Acropolis proper, i.e. much the larger and more important
part of the old city, had ceased to be ‘Pelasgic’; the old fortifications
were concealed by the new retaining walls of Themistocles and Kimon. It
was only at the west and south-west that the Pelasgic fortifications were
still visible, hence this portion below the Acropolis took to itself the
name that had belonged to the whole; but this limited use of the word was
at first tentative. Thucydides says, ‘which is _called_ the Pelargikon.’
This is quite different from the definite ‘the Pelasgian citadel’ used by
Herodotus. The neuter adjectival form is, so far as I know, never used of
the whole complex of the Acropolis _plus_ what is below.
From Thucydides we learn only that what was called the Pelargikon was
_below_ the Acropolis. ‘Below’ means immediately, vertically below,
for when, in Lucian’s _Fisherman_[50], Parrhesiades, after baiting
his hook with figs and gold, casts down his line to fish for the
false philosophers, Philosophy, seeing him hanging over, asks, ‘What
are you fishing for, Parrhesiades? Stones from the Pelasgikon?’ An
inscription[51] of the latter end of the fifth century confirms the
curse mentioned by Thucydides, and shows us that the Pelargikon was a
well-defined area, as it was the subject of special legislation. ‘The
king (i.e. the magistrate of that name) is to fix the boundaries of the
sanctuaries in the Pelargikon, and henceforth altars are not to be set up
in the Pelargikon without the consent of the Council and the people, nor
may stones be quarried from the Pelargikon, nor earth or stones had out
of it. And if any man break these enactments he shall pay 500 drachmas
and the king shall report him to the Council.’ Pollux[52] further tells
us that there was a penalty of 3 drachmas and costs for even mowing
grass within the Pelargikon, and three officers called paredroi guarded
against the offence. Evidently the fortifications of the Pelargikon,
partially dismantled by the Persians, had become a popular stone quarry;
as evidently the state had no intention that these fortifications should
fall into complete disuse. The question naturally arises, what was the
purport of this surviving Pelargikon, why did it not perish with the rest
of the Pelasgic fortifications?
The answer is simple: the Pelargikon remained because it was the great
fortification of the citadel gates. According to Kleidemos, it will be
remembered (p. 11), the work of the early settlers was threefold; they
levelled the surface of the citadel, they built a wall round it, and
they furnished the fortifications with gates. Where will those gates be?
A glance at the section in Fig. 1 shows that they _must be_ where they
_are_, i.e. at the only point where the rock has an approachable slope,
the west or south-west. We say advisedly _south_-west. The great gate of
Mnesicles, the Propylaea which remain to-day, face due west; but within
that great gate still remain the foundations[53] of a smaller, older
gate (Fig. 2, G), built in direct connection with the great Pelasgic
fortification wall, and that older gate, there before the Persian
War[54], faces _south_-west.
[Illustration: FIG. 14.]
This gate facing south-west stands on the summit of the hill, and is but
one. Kleidemos (p. 11) tells us that the Pelargikon had nine gates. That
there should be nine gates _round_ the Acropolis is unthinkable, such
an arrangement would weaken the fortification, not strengthen it. The
successive gates must somehow have been arranged one inside the other,
and the fortifications would probably be in terrace form. The west slope
of the Acropolis lends itself to such an arrangement, and in Turkish
days this slope was occupied by a succession of redoubts (Fig. 14).
Fortified Turkish Athens is in some ways nearer to the old Pelasgian
fortress than the Acropolis as we see it to-day. We shall probably not be
far wrong if we think of the approach to the ancient citadel as a winding
way (Fig. 15), leading gradually up by successive terraces, passing
through successive fortified gates[55], and reaching at last the topmost
_propylon_ which faced south-west. These terraces, gates, fortifications,
covering a large space, the limits of which will presently be defined,
formed a whole known from the time of Thucydides to that of Lucian as the
Pelargikon or Pelasgikon.
[Illustration: FIG. 15.]
* * * * *
Lucian indeed not only affords our best evidence that, down to Roman
days, a place called the Pelasgikon existed below the Acropolis, but is
also our chief literary source for defining its limits. We expect those
limits to be wide, otherwise the refugees would not have crowded in.
The passages about the Pelasgikon in Lucian are two. First in the ‘Double
Indictment[56],’ Dike, standing on the Acropolis, sees Pan approaching,
and asks who the god is with the horns and the pipe and the hairy legs.
Hermes answers that Pan, who used to dwell on Mt Parthenion, had for
his services been honoured with a cave below the Acropolis ‘a little
beyond the Pelasgikon.’ There he lives and pays his taxes as a resident
alien. The site of Pan’s cave is certainly known; close below it was
the Pelasgikon. This marks the extreme limit of the Pelasgikon to the
north, for the sanctuary of Aglauros (p. 81) by which the Persians
climbed up was unquestionably outside the fortifications. Herodotus[57]
distinctly says, ‘In front then of the Acropolis, but behind the gates
and the ascent, where neither did anyone keep guard, nor could it be
expected that anyone could climb up there, some of them ascended near
the sanctuary of Aglauros, daughter of Kekrops, though the place was
precipitous.’
A second passage[58] in Lucian gives us a further clue. Parrhesiades
and Philosophy, from their station on the Acropolis, are watching the
philosophers as they crowd up. Parrhesiades says, ‘Goodness, why, at the
mere sound of the words, “a ten-pound note,” the whole way up is a mass
of them shouldering each other; some are coming along the Pelasgikon,
others and more of them by the Areopagos, some are at the tomb of Talos,
and others have got ladders and put them against the Anakeion; and, by
Jove, there’s a whole hive of them swarming up like bees.’ A description
like this cannot be regarded as definite proof; but, taking the shrines
in their natural order, it certainly looks as though in Lucian’s days
the Pelasgikon extended from the Areopagos to the Asklepieion. The
philosophers crowd up by the regular approach (ἄνοδος) to the Propylaea;
there is not room for them all, so they spread to right and left, on the
right to the Asklepieion, on the left to the Areopagos; some are crowded
out still further on the right to the tomb of Talos[59], near the theatre
of Dionysos; on the left to the Anakeion[60] on the north side of the
Acropolis.
Yet one more topographical hint is left us. In a fragment of Polemon[61]
(circ. 180 B.C.), preserved to us by the scholiast on the _Oedipus
Coloneus_ of Sophocles, we hear that Hesychos, the eponymous hero of
the Hesychidae, hereditary priests of the Semnae, had a sanctuary. Its
position is thus described: ‘it is alongside of the Kyloneion outside
the Nine-Gates.’ It is clear that in the days of Polemon either the
Nine-Gates were still standing, or their position was exactly known.
It is also clear that, whatever was called the Nine-Gates was near
the precinct of the Semnae. The eponymous hero of their priests must
have had his shrine in or close to the sanctuary of the goddesses.
Moreover the Kyloneion or hero shrine ties us to the same spot. When
the fellow-conspirators of Kylon were driven from the Acropolis, where
Megacles dared not kill them, they fastened themselves by a thread to the
image of the goddess to keep themselves in touch; when they reached the
altars of the Semnae the thread broke and they were all murdered[62]. The
Kyloneion must have been erected as an expiatory shrine on the spot.
When we turn to examine actual remains of the Pelasgikon on the south
slope of the Acropolis (Fig. 2), we are met by disappointment. Of
all the various terraces and supporting walls, only one fragment (P)
can definitely be pronounced Pelasgian. The remaining walls seen in
Fig. 16 date between the seventh and the fifth centuries. The walls
marked G in the plan in Fig. 16, but purposely omitted in Fig. 2, are
of good polygonal masonry, and must have been supporting walls to the
successive terraces of the Pelasgikon; they are probably of the time
of Peisistratos[63], but may even be earlier. It is important to note
that though not ‘Pelasgic’ themselves they doubtless supplanted previous
‘Pelasgic’ structures. The line followed by the ancient road must have
skirted the outermost wall of the Pelargikon; later it was diverted in
order to allow of the building of the Odeion of Herodes Atticus. The
Pelasgikon of Lucian’s day only extended as far as the Asklepieion;
the earlier fortification must have included what was later the
Asklepieion[64], as it would need to protect the important well within
that precinct.
* * * * *
Thucydides has stated the limits of the ancient city, ‘_what is now
the citadel was the city together with what is below it towards about
south_.’ We now-a-days should not question his statement. The remains of
the Pelasgian fortifications disclosed by excavation amply support his
main contention, namely, that _what is now the citadel was the city_,
the conformation of the hill and literary evidence justify his careful
‘addendum’ _together with what is below it towards about south_.
But, as noted before, the readers of Thucydides were not in our position,
they knew less about the boundaries of the ancient city, and though they
probably knew fairly well the limits of the Pelasgikon, even that was
becoming rather a matter of antiquarian interest. Above all, they were
citizens of the larger city of Themistocles, the Dipylon was more to them
than the Enneapylon. Thucydides therefore feels that the truth about the
ancient city needs driving home. He proceeds to give evidence for what
was, he felt, scarcely self-evident. If we feel that the evidence is
somewhat superfluous, we yet welcome it because incidentally he thereby
gives us much and interesting information as to the sanctuaries of
ancient Athens.
The evidence is, as above stated (p. 8), fourfold.
CHAPTER II.
THE SANCTUARIES IN THE CITADEL.
τὰ γὰρ ἱερὰ ἐν αὐτῇ τῇ ἀκροπόλει καὶ ἄλλων θεῶν ἐστί.
_There are sanctuaries in the citadel itself, those of other deities as
well (as The Goddess)._
Needless difficulties have been raised about this sentence, and, quite
unnecessarily, a lacuna in the text has been supposed[65]. Though the
form of the sentence is compressed, the plain literal meaning is clear.
The first piece of evidence that Thucydides states is that in the
‘citadel itself other divinities “as well” have sanctuaries.’ To what
does this ‘as well’ refer? Obviously to ‘The Goddess’ mentioned in the
clause next but one before as presiding over the Synoikia, ‘The Goddess’
who was so well known that to name her was needless.
It has been proposed to read the sentence thus: ‘There are (ancient)
sanctuaries in the citadel itself both “of the goddess Athena” and of
other deities as well.’ This is true, but it is not what Thucydides says
and not what he means. He does not desire to make any statement whatever
about the sanctuaries of Athene or their antiquity; both propositions are
for the moment irrelevant; he _wishes_ to say what he _does_ say, that
‘there are sanctuaries in the Acropolis itself, those of other deities as
well (as The Goddess).’ It is the ‘other deities’ not ‘The Goddess’ who
are the point.
[Illustration: FIG. 16.]
But Thucydides always leaves perhaps rather much to the intelligence
of his readers. It may fairly be asked, why is the existence of these
sanctuaries of ‘other deities’ an argument in support of the statement
that the Acropolis was the ancient city? Once fairly asked, the question
answers itself. The Acropolis in the time of Thucydides was a hill sacred
to Athena, it was almost her _temenos_; the other gods, Apollo, Zeus,
Aphrodite, had their most important sanctuaries down below, all over
the great ‘wheel-shaped’ city. Athena had from time immemorial, it was
believed, dwelt on the hill; any statement about her shrines would prove
nothing one way or the other. But in the old days, before there was any
‘down below,’ any ‘wheel-shaped’ city, if the ‘other gods’ were to be
city gods at all they must have their shrines up above. Such shrines
there were on the Acropolis itself; this made it additionally probable
that the Acropolis _was_ the ancient city. The reasoning is quite clear
and relevant, and the argument is just the sort that an Athenian of the
time of Thucydides, with his head full of the dominant Athena, and apt to
forget the ‘other gods,’ would need to have recalled to his mind.
The citadel of classical days, with its ‘old Athena temple,’ Parthenon
and its Erechtheion lies before us in Fig. 16. The ‘old Athena
temple’ and the Parthenon belong to ‘The Goddess,’ where then are the
‘sanctuaries in the citadel itself which belong to other deities’ of
which Thucydides is thinking?
For such we naturally look to the north side of the Acropolis, where lay
the ancient king’s palace (Fig. 2, C). About that old palace westward
there lay clustered a number of early altars, ‘tokens’ (σημεῖα), sacred
places and things (ἱερά). Later these were enclosed in the complex
building known to us as the Erechtheion. It is by studying the plan
of this later temple that we can best understand the grouping and
significance of the earlier sanctuaries.
The Erechtheion as we have it now is shown in Fig. 17. Its plan is
obviously anomalous, and has puzzled generations of architects. It
was reserved for Professor Dörpfeld, with his imaginative insight, to
divine that the temple, as we have it, is incomplete; and, further, to
reconstruct conjecturally the complete design. In the light of this
reconstruction the Erechtheion, as we now possess it, became for the
first time intelligible.
[Illustration: FIG. 17.]
[Illustration: FIG. 18.]
This reconstruction is shown in Fig. 18. The temple in the original plan
was intended to consist of two cellas, each furnished with a pronaos; the
east cella is marked on the plan ‘Athena-Polias Tempel,’ the west cella
is marked ‘opisthodom,’ _i.e._ opisthodomos or back chamber. Between
these two cellas is a building divided into three chambers, marked in
the plan ‘Poseidon-Erechth(eus)-Tempel.’ The middle chamber of the three
is entered by two porches, a large one to the north, a smaller one—the
famous Karyatid porch—to the south. This middle chamber alone of the
three was probably provided with a low roof as shown in the sketch in
Fig. 19. A building so complex cries aloud for explanation. It has become
symmetrical, but what is its significance? What for us its connection
with the sanctuaries of ‘other deities as well’?
[Illustration: FIG. 19.]
To understand the new temple we must go back to the times before it was
built[66]. It was intended—though ultimately this intention was not
fully accomplished—to replace other existing sanctuaries, and these were
first the old temple of Athena, and second the old temple of Erechtheus.
The ‘old temple of Athena’ appears on the plan (Fig. 18) to the south
of the Erechtheion; the very scanty remains of the old temple of
Poseidon-Erechtheus are seen running diagonally under the western part of
the new Erechtheion.
The ‘old temple of Athena’ consisted, it is clear, of two parts: to the
east the actual cella of the goddess; to the west, divided into three
chambers, the opisthodomos or treasure-house. We are concerned wholly, it
must be noted, with the ‘other deities,’ not with Athena; for from the
consideration of Athena and her sanctuaries Thucydides has dispensed us;
but the arrangement of the new Erechtheion cannot be understood without
some reference to the disposition of the old temple of Athena.
Perikles intended to demolish not only the old Erechtheion but also the
old temple of Athena, and to supplant them by a common sanctuary. The
east cella in the old Athena temple was to be replaced by an east cella
for the goddess in the new; the opisthodomos to the west of the old
temple by an opisthodomos to the west of the new. Between these parts of
the old Athena temple three chambers were to be devoted to replacing
the old Erechtheion. It is difficult by help of ground-plans to realize
the different levels of the temple, but those who have been on the spot
will remember that the new cella of Athena is on the same level as the
old. The Erechtheion with its different levels is a striking contrast to
the Parthenon, where, as we have already seen, the slope of the ground
was levelled up and that at enormous expense. This preservation of
different levels in the Erechtheion is in itself sufficient evidence of
the sanctity of the different cults to be enshrined. The longer complex
structure, with its different levels and its five chambers, was intended,
as Perikles planned it, to be entered by the two porches, north and
south. Structurally these would reduce the effect of undue length, but
they had also another purpose—the north porch contained the trident mark
of Poseidon, the south the grave of Kekrops.
The plan of Perikles was never completed. By some one’s machinations,
whether of architect, priest, or politician we do not know, he was—as
before in the building of the Propylaea—frustrated, and obliged to be
content with a truncated scheme. The new Erechtheion almost certainly had
been begun before the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War. When Perikles
found that his plan was not accepted in full, he did not design a new
temple but made a compromise obviously intended to be provisional. He was
again frustrated in the execution even of this modified scheme, which was
not completed till much later. The Erechtheion that we know has the east
cella for Athena complete and the two porches, but two only of the three
intended midway chambers were built, and the westernmost one, as appears
on the plan, is slightly reduced in size. The west cella was never even
begun. It is probable that Perikles never succeeded in transferring
the image of Athena from her old temple to the new cella, but this
question[67] it is not necessary we should here decide.
* * * * *
Setting aside those portions of the Erechtheion which were intended to
supply the place of the old temple of Athena, namely the east cella and
the proposed opisthodomos to the west, we have now to consider what
were the ancient sanctities (ἱερά) of ‘other deities’ which the three
central chambers and the two porches were planned to enshrine. They are
as follows:—
1. The hero-tomb of Kekrops.
2. The Pandroseion.
3. Three ‘tokens’ (σημεῖα).
_a._ A sacred olive tree.
_b._ A ‘sea’ called after Erechtheus.
_c._ A trident mark sacred to Poseidon.
1. _The hero-tomb of Kekrops._
We begin with Kekrops because, by almost uniform tradition, with Kekrops
Athens began. The _Parian Chronicle_[68] sets him at the head of the
kings of Athens, and the date assigned to him is 1582 B.C., before
Kranaus, before Amphictyon, before Erechtheus. Thucydides[69] names
him as the typical early Athenian king. ‘Under Kekrops and the first
kings,’ he writes; Apollodorus[70] says definitely, ‘the indigenous
Kekrops, whose body was compounded of man and snake, first reigned over
Attica, and the country which before was called Attica was from him named
Kekropia.’ Herodotus[71] looked back to a day before Athens was Athens
and when there were no Athenians at all: ‘The Athenians,’ he says, ‘at
the time when the Pelasgians held that which is now called Hellas, were
Pelasgians and they were called Kranai; under the rule of Kekrops they
were called Kekropidae; but when Erechtheus succeeded they changed their
name for that of Athenians, and when Ion, son of Xuthus, became general,
they took from him the name of Ionians.’
Herodotus touches the truth. Kekrops was not the first king of _Athens_,
he was king before there was any Athens, long before. He was the ancestor
of the clan of the Kekropidae. At some very early date—the Parian marble
may very likely be roughly right—the Kekropidae got possession of the
Acropolis and called it Kekropia. Kekropis was the name not only of one
of the four original Attic tribes but also of one of the later ten[72].
But though the clan kept its old name it lost the headship of Kekropia.
Kekrops had only one son, Erysichthon[73], and he died childless; that
is the mythological way of saying that the kingship changed families.
Then came the time when the leading clan were Erechtheidae, descendants
not of Kekrops, but of Erechtheus. These are Homer’s days. He knows
nothing of Kekrops and Kekropia, only of ‘the people of Erechtheus[74].’
Then still later came another change; those who once were the people
of Erechtheus became the people of Athena, Athenians. But Kekrops and
Kekropia were first, probably long first. Kekrops is the hero-founder,
the typical old-world king. It is Kekrops whom Bdelycleon[75], tormented
by modernity, invokes:
‘Kekrops, oh my king and hero, thou that hast the dragon’s feet.’
Kekrops was half man, half snake. His ‘double nature’ gave logographers
and even philosophers much trouble. Was it because he had the
understanding of a man and the strength of a dragon, was it because,
at first a good king, he later became a tyrant, or because he knew two
languages (Egyptian and Greek), or because he instituted marriage? The
curious will find it all in Tzetzes[76]. Eager anthropologists have
seized on Kekrops as a totem-snake, but the average orthodox mythologist
is content to see in his snake-tail the symbol of the ‘earth-born’
Athenians. This interpretation grazes the truth, but just misses the
point. The hybrid form is of course transitional. Kekrops is sloughing
off his snake form[77] in deference to the inveterate anthropomorphism
of the Greek. He was once a complete snake, not because he was a
totem-snake, not because he was an ‘autochthonous hero,’ but because he
was a dead man and all dead persons of importance, all heroes, become
snakes.
No one has done so much to obscure the early history of Athenian religion
as Athena herself, by her constant habit of taking over the attributes
of other divinities[78]. The eponymous hero of each victorious tribe,
Kekrops and Erechtheus in turn, is a home-keeping, home-guarding snake
(οἰκουρὸς ὄφις). But by the time of Herodotus[79] the sacred snake
supposed to live on and guard the Acropolis lives in the sanctuary of
Athena, and is almost the embodiment of the goddess herself; when the
snake refused the honey-cake it was taken as an omen that ‘the goddess
had deserted the Acropolis.’ By the time of Pheidias the snake is just
an attribute of the Parthenos, and was set to crouch beneath her shield.
But Pausanias[80] has an inkling of the truth; he says, ‘close beside
the spear is a snake: this snake is probably Erichthonios.’ The real
relation of goddess and snake was simply this: the original pair of
divinities worshipped in many local cults were a matriarchal goddess, a
local form of earth-goddess, and the local hero of the place in snake
form as her male correlative; such a pair were Demeter and the snake-king
Kenchreus at Eleusis[81], such were Chryse and her home-keeping nameless
guardian snake on Lemnos[82], such were Eileithyia and Sosipolis at
Olympia[83], such were ‘the goddess’ and her successive heroes Kekrops
and Erichthonios or Erechtheus; only, as will later be seen, in this last
pair another goddess preceded Athena.
* * * * *
Kekrops then was a dead, divinized hero embodied as a snake; the natural
place for his worship was his tomb, probably the earliest sanctuary of
the Acropolis. Clement[84] of Alexandria says, ‘the tomb of Kekrops is
at Athens on the Acropolis,’ and Theodoretus[85], quoting Antiochos,
adds that it is ‘by the Poliouchos herself,’ the goddess of the city. We
might safely assume that a hero-tomb was a sanctuary, but we have express
evidence: in an honorary decree[86] respecting the ‘ephebi’ of the
deme of Kekrops it is ordered that the decree shall be set up ‘in the
sanctuary of Kekrops,’ and from another decree[87] we learn the name of a
‘priest of Kekrops.’
But our most definite evidence as to where the tomb of Kekrops lay comes
from the famous Chandler inscription[88] now in the British Museum. This
inscription is exactly dated by the archonship of Diokles (409-408 B.C.).
It is a statement of the exact condition in which the overseers of the
unfinished temple took over the work, what part was half finished, what
unwrought and unchannelled (_i.e._ columns), and what were completely
finished but not set up in their place. The various parts of the temple
are described as near or opposite to such and such an ancient shrine, and
fortunately among these descriptions occur more than one mention of the
Kekropion. The following[89] is decisive: ‘Concerning the porch beside
the Kekropion the roof stones above the Korae must be....’ The porch of
the Karyatids, or to call it by its ancient[90] name, the porch of the
Korae, the Maidens, was beside, close to, the Kekropion.
So far all is certain. The tomb of Kekrops was close to the porch of the
Maidens; but in which direction? We should expect it to be north-west,
because in that direction, as will be immediately (p. 48) shown, lay the
precinct of Pandrosos, daughter of Kekrops. Professor Dörpfeld[91] places
it conjecturally at D (Fig. 16), and the site is almost certain. It has
been already noted that the west wall of the present Erechtheion was set
back a short distance within its original plan. It may have been to avoid
trenching on the tomb of Kekrops. Moreover, at the south end of this
wall there is a great gap in the ancient masonry of about 10 ft. long by
10 high. The gap is evident, though it was filled up by modern masonry.
It is spanned by an enormous ancient block of stone, 15 ft. by 5. Here
probably was buried the serpent king.
[Illustration: FIG. 19.*]
With the serpent king and his prophylactic tomb clearly in our minds, we
turn with new eyes to examine certain fragments of sculpture discovered
in the recent excavations. Nothing perhaps caused more surprise when
these fragments came to light than the size and splendour of the
snake-figures. We have already seen (p. 27) that the western pediment of
the Hecatompedon held two sea-monsters, a Triton and Typhon; the eastern
pediment held two land-snakes of even greater magnificence. The design of
this pediment as restored by Dr. Wiegand[92] is as follows (Fig. 19*). In
the apex is seated Athena; to her right hand a figure seated and crowned,
and therefore a king or a god; this figure survives, but the figure which
must have balanced him to the left of the goddess is lost for ever.
Athena is supreme; the surviving figure is usually called Zeus, but from
his subordinate place it seems to me that it is more likely he is either
a subordinate god, Poseidon, or a local king, Erechtheus. Possibly Athena
is seated between Poseidon and Erechtheus.
It is, after all, not the seated protagonists of the pediment, be they
Olympians or local kings, who most interest us, but the two great snakes
who in the angles keep watch and ward. These snakes are often described
as ‘decorative’ or ‘space-filling.’ But surely they are too alive, too
large, too dominant to be mere accessories. One of them is shown in
Fig. 19* in detail, so far as he can be represented by an uncoloured
reproduction. In the original he is blue and orange, and his companion in
the other angle is a vivid emerald green.
Herodotus[93], it is true, speaks of one snake only as guardian of
the Acropolis, the snake who when the land was beset by the Persians,
would not eat its honey-cake; but then Herodotus writes as if he had no
personal knowledge: ‘the Athenians _say_ there is a great snake.’ In the
story of Erichthonios tradition, and good Attic tradition, knew of two.
Hermes in the _Ion_ of Euripides[94] says, referring to Erichthonios,
‘To him
What time she gave him to the Agraulid maids
Athena bound for watch two guardian snakes;
In memory whereof Erechtheus’ sons
In Athens still upon their nursing babes
Put serpents wrought of gold’;
and on the well-known vase in the British museum[95] depicting the scene,
two snakes appear. We need not say that the two snakes of the pediment
are a duplicated Kekrops, but we may and do say that they are two
hero-snakes, guardians of the city, and we may further _conjecture_ that
they were an old pair, male and female. This conjecture brings us to the
woman counterpart of Kekrops, the snake king, his ‘daughter’ Pandrosos.
2. _The Pandroseion._
Kekrops and his faithful daughter Pandrosos were not far sundered. The
situation of the Pandroseion is, within narrow limits, certain. It was
an enclosure to the west of the present Erechtheion. The invaluable
Chandler inscription[96] speaks of ‘the pillars on the wall towards
the Pandroseion.’ This must refer to the west wall, on which were four
engaged pillars at a height of about 12 feet from the ground. In another
inscription[97], found during the pulling down of the ‘Odysseus’ Bastion,
mention is made of two pediments, one towards the east and the other
‘towards the Pandroseion.’
We know, then, certainly that the Pandroseion was west of the present
Erechtheion. We know also that it was close to the ‘old temple of
Athena.’ Pausanias[98], in passing from the one to the other, distinctly
says: ‘The temple of Pandrosos adjoins the temple of Athena.’ As
Pausanias distinctly says there was a temple (ναός), not merely a temenos
or sanctuary (ἱερόν), it is disappointing that excavations have yielded
no trace.
In actual cultus and topography we have found Kekrops side by side with
one woman figure, Pandrosos. In current mythology he has three daughters,
of whom is told the thrice familiar story of the child and the chest[99].
It will repay examination.
The child Erichthonios is born from the Earth in the presence of Kekrops.
His real mother, Earth, gives him up to the tendance of Athena; such is
the scene familiar on terra-cottas and vase-paintings. Athena places him
in a chest or wicker-basket, and gives him to the three daughters of
Kekrops, Pandrosos, Herse, Aglauros, with strict orders not to open the
chest. The two sisters, Herse and Aglauros (or according to some versions
all three), overcome by curiosity open the chest, and see the child with
a snake or snakes coiled about him. In terror at the snake, who pursues
them, and fearing the anger of Athena, they cast themselves down from the
Acropolis.
The story is manifestly absurd, and in some of the elements plainly
aetiological.
The suicide of the disobedient sisters is easily explicable. Half way
down the Acropolis, below the steepest portion of the rock, were a number
of shrines and tombs. Why were they there? Clearly because the persons
after whom they were named had thrown themselves down, or been thrown
down, from the top. Such a shrine was the tomb of Talos[100], near the
Asklepieion. Daedalos was jealous of Talos, and threw him down from the
rock. Such was also the shrine of Aegeus[101], below the temple of Nike
Apteros, where Aegeus in despair at the sight of the black sail cast
himself down. Such was the sanctuary of Aglauros[102] on the north side
of the Acropolis. Somebody must have cast herself down to account for the
situation. When one sister only is mentioned she is naturally Aglauros,
but all three are often allowed to commit suicide for completeness sake.
Of the three sisters, Herse was not a real person[103]; she has no
shrine, she is only a heroine invented to account for the ceremony of the
Hersephoria. The cult of Aglauros is below the Acropolis and manifestly
separate from that of Pandrosos, and Pandrosos alone for the present need
be considered.
* * * * *
Pausanias, after stating that the temple of Pandrosos adjoins that of
Athena, says that she was ‘the only one of the sisters who was blameless
in the affair of the chest intrusted to them.’ As Pandrosos had a shrine
so revered it would have been awkward to make her out guilty. He then,
without telling us whether or no he perceives any connection, proceeds
to describe ‘a thing which caused me the greatest astonishment and is
not generally known.’ The thing that so astonished Pausanias was the
ceremony of the Arrephoria[104]. Maidens called Arrephoroi bore upon
their heads certain sacred things covered up; these they carried by night
by a natural underground passage to a precinct near to that of Aphrodite
in the Gardens. There they left what they had been carrying, and brought
back other things also wrapped up and unknown. From the analogy of other
mystery cults we may be sure that the objects carried were some sort of
fertility-charms, and they would be carried in a chest or wicker basket,
a _cista_ or a _liknon_, veiled that the sacred thing might not be seen.
The girl-Arrephoroi might not look into the sacred chests. Why? The
answer was ready, the goddess they served, Pandrosos, had also her sacred
chest into which she and she only had not looked.
The personality of Pandrosos is hard to seize and fix. One thing is
clear; ‘Pandrosos’ is not a mere ‘title of Athena.’ She manifestly, as
daughter of Kekrops, belongs to that earlier stratum before the dominance
of The Goddess. Later Athena absorbed her as she absorbed everything
else. In official inscriptions she usually comes after Athena, and is
clearly a separate personality. Thus the epheboi[105] offered their
‘sacrifices at departure (ἐξιτήρια) on the Acropolis to Athena Polias and
to Kourotrophos and to Pandrosos,’ and women swore by her, though not so
often as by Aglauros. We have one ritual particular that looked as though
between her and Athene there was at some time friction. Harpocration[106]
in explaining the rare word ‘ἐπίβοιον,’ ‘that which is after the ox,’
says, quoting from Philochoros, that it was the name given to a sacrifice
to Pandrosos. If any one sacrificed an ox to Athena it was necessary to
sacrifice a sheep to Pandrosos. Pandrosos was in danger of being effaced
by Athena, and some one was determined this should not be; all that ‘The
Goddess’ could secure was precedence.
* * * * *
We have found, then, a maiden goddess who was there before ‘The Goddess,’
nay, who may have herself been ‘The Goddess’ before Athena claimed the
title. Pandrosos belongs to the early order of the Kekropidae, before the
dwellers on the hill became Athenians. It is possible that her presence
throws some light on the beautiful, but as yet enigmatic figures of the
‘Maidens’ who have been restored to us by the recent excavations. Who and
what are they?
The ‘Maiden’ whose figure is chosen for the frontispiece of this book
was found alone, somewhat later than the rest, in October, 1888, not
like the others (p. 16) North of the Erechtheion, but near the wall of
Kimon to the South, between the precinct of Artemis-Brauronia and the
West front of the Parthenon. There is a certain fitness in this, because
though in dress, adornments, colouring, general type, she is like the
rest, her great beauty will always make her a thing apart. The torso and
head were found separate, and about the torso there is nothing specially
noteworthy. The unique loveliness is all of the face, and it escapes
analysis. There are, however, peculiarities worth noting. The right eye
is set much more obliquely than the left. This gives an irregular charm
and individuality; the unusually high forehead emphasizes the austere
virginal air, and the same may be said of the straight chest and long
thin throat. But the secret of her beauty is still kept; standing as she
does now among the other ‘Maidens,’ she is a creature from another world,
and for all their beauty the rest look but a kindly mob of robust mothers
and genial housewives.
The statues in question, which now number upwards of fifty, have been
called by the name ‘Maidens,’ a name current among archaeologists. It
is open to objection, because ‘maidens’ (κόραι) meant in the official
language of the inscription already quoted[107] the ‘Caryatid’ figures of
the Erechtheion. The word has, however, one great advantage, it is vague
and commits the user of it to no theory as to the significance of the
statues. The word _korè_ meant to the Greek not only maiden, but doll or
puppet or statue of a maiden. We need only recall the familiar epigram
with the dedication to Artemis[108]:
Maid of the Mere, Timaretè here brings
Before she weds, her cymbals, her dear ball
To thee a Maid, her maiden offerings,
Her snood, her maiden dolls their clothes and all.
Here the _korai_ are actual _dolls_, but in Attic inscriptions we
find the word _korè_ used of a statue[109], thus, ‘a korè of gold on
a pillar’; or again in a dedication to Poseidon, ‘he dedicated as
firstfruits this _korè_.’ A _korè_ is one form of an _agalma_, a thing of
delight.
The statues, then, may be called ‘Maidens,’ but the word is too vague to
help us much as to their significance, and it is their significance,
who and what they are, not their value in the history of art that here
concerns us.
The question is generally put thus, Are they statues of Athena, or are
they statues of mortal women dedicated to her? priestesses or merely
worshippers? Statues of Athena they are, I think, certainly _not_; they
have neither helmet, spear, shield, nor even aegis. Athena may appear
sporadically without characteristic attributes, but that a series of
fifty statues of Athena should be dedicated without a single hint of
anything that made Athena to be Athena is scarcely possible.
Are they, then, mortal maidens? For priestesses their number, restricted
as they are by style to a short period of years, is too many. If they
are mere mortal worshippers, it is at least strange that in the only
two cases where we have inscribed bases they are dedicated by men. In
one case we have the simple statement: ‘Euthydikos son of Thalearchus
dedicated[110]’; on the other, Antenor, it is stated, makes the statue,
Nearchos dedicates it as ‘firstfruits of his works[111].’ Would Nearchos
dedicate a statue of mortal woman as ‘firstfruits of his works’? We seem
to be at an _impasse_.
But there is surely a third solution open to us. The maidens need not be
mortal because they are not Athena. There was a time before the armed
maiden with spear and shield and aegis came from Libya or the East, a
time when another maiden ruled upon the hill and was ‘The Goddess.’
Is it not at least possible that the maidens are made in her image,
and that when the armed goddess took possession of the hill, when the
ancient Kekropidae and Erechtheidae became Athenaioi, the maidens of
the old order passed into the service of the maiden of the new? that we
must think of their type as shaped at least for the worship of Pandrosos
rather than Athena? The type of the warlike goddess was not fashionable
in Greece. The Greeks, if any people, held firmly the doctrine that
A woman armed makes war upon herself.
The woman armed and disarmed, the Amazon in defeat, they made beautiful
and poignantly human, but the woman armed and triumphant, Athena
Nikephoros, remained a cold unreality. The _korè_ of Eleusis is not
armed, but at Corinth and at Sparta there was that strangest of all
sights—the image of Aphrodite armed[112]. Whence she came is, as will
later be seen (p. 109), not doubtful. In Cythera[113], Pausanias tells
us, ‘the sanctuary of the Heavenly Goddess is most holy, and of all
Greek sanctuaries of Aphrodite this is most ancient. The goddess is
represented by a wooden image armed.’ The Cythereans called their armed
Oriental goddess Cytherea. Did the Athenians call the same armed goddess
‘Athenaia’? Be that as it may, before her coming they worshipped the
_un_armed maiden.
* * * * *
Before we pass from Kekrops and Pandrosos to the later order under
Erechtheus, the traditional events reputed of the reign of Kekrops must
be noted. There are three:—
1. The contest between Athena and Poseidon, of which Kekrops
acted as judge.
2. The introduction of the worship of Zeus.
3. The institution of marriage.
The discussion of the contest between Athena and Poseidon really belongs
to the Erechtheid period, and must stand over till then. The introduction
of the worship of Zeus and the institution of marriage are probably but
the religious and social forces of the same advance, and may be taken
together.
In front of the Erechtheion, Pausanias[114] tells us, was an altar
dedicated to Zeus Hypatos, on which no living thing was sacrificed, but
only cakes (πέλανοι). Pausanias does not here say that the altar was
dedicated by Kekrops, but, in his discussion of Arcadia[115] and the
human sacrifice of Lycaon, he says, ‘Kekrops was the first who gave to
Zeus the title of Supreme, and he would not sacrifice anything that had
life, but he burned on the altar the local cakes which the Athenians to
this day call _pelanoi_.’ What probably happened was just the reverse of
what Pausanias describes: there was an old altar to ‘the Supreme,’ the
_Hypatos_; at some time or other this was taken over by the immigrant
Zeus; the shift was attributed to Kekrops.
Zeus was essentially of the patriarchal order, _i.e._ of a condition of
things in which the father rather than the mother is the head of the
family, gives his name to the children, and holds the family property
and conducts the family worship. Nothing could be more patriarchal than
the constitution of the Homeric Olympus. Such a condition of things is
necessarily connected with some form of the social institution known
to us as marriage. Accordingly we learn from Athenaeus[116], quoting
from Clearchus the pupil of Aristotle, that ‘At Athens Kekrops was the
first to join one woman to one man: before connections had taken place
at random and marriages were in common—hence as some think Kekrops was
called “Twyformed” (διφυής) since before his day people did not know
who their fathers were on account of the number’ (of possible parents).
The story of the contest between Athene and Poseidon was later mixed up
with the same tradition of the shift from patriarchy to matriarchy. St
Augustine[117] says that the women voted for Athena, and their punishment
was to be, among other things, that ‘no one was hereafter to be called by
his mother’s name.’
* * * * *
We pass to the three tokens (σημεῖα), the first of which is
_a._ The sacred olive-tree.
The holy bloom of the olive, whose hoar leaf
High in the shadowy shrine of Pandrosos
Hath honour of us all.
Apollodorus[118] says, ‘After him (Poseidon) came Athena, and having
made Kekrops witness of her seizure, she planted the olive which is now
shown in the Pandroseion.’ A ‘seizure’ indeed, and not from Poseidon but
from the elder goddess Pandrosos. Athena is manifestly an interloper;
why should Pandrosos have other people’s olive trees planted in _her_
precinct? The olive is but one of the many ‘tokens’ or attributes that
Athena wrested to herself. It was there before her, Kekrops quite rightly
holds it in his hand.
The olive-tree grew in the Pandroseion, it also grew in the older
Erechtheion. Herodotus[119] says, ‘There is on this Acropolis a temple
of Erechtheus, who is called earth-born, and in it are an olive-tree and
a sea which, according to the current tradition among the Athenians,
Poseidon and Athenaia planted as tokens when they contended for the
country.’ There is no discrepancy, the Pandroseion must have been
included in the older Erechtheion.
By a most happy chance, among the fragments of decorative sculpture
left us is one on which is carved ‘the holy bloom of the olive,’ in
three delicate sprays. The real sacred olive was old and stunted and
crooked[120], but the artist went his own way. The fragments are grouped
together in a conjectural restoration[121] in Fig. 20. All that is
certain is that we have a Doric building and adjacent to it the wall
of a precinct over which the olive is growing. Against the wall of the
building is the figure of a woman in purple, wearing peplos and himation.
Against the wall of the precinct once stood a man. Only one leg of him is
left. The two figures might be part of a procession. The woman, standing
full face, _may_ belong to the same composition, but this is not certain.
She wears a red chiton and bluish-green himation. On her head is a pad
(τύλη), for she is carrying some burden. One of her arms is lifted to
support it. We think instinctively of the Arrephoroi. The figure, though
very rudely hewn, has something of the lovely seriousness of the other
‘maidens.’ The whole composition may have belonged to a pediment of the
earlier Erechtheion, but its pictorial character makes it more probably
a votive relief for dedication there, and representing some scene of
worship at the ancient shrine.
* * * * *
Within the older Erechtheion we have further
(_b_) A cistern or ‘sea,’ called after Erechtheus. With it may
be taken
(_c_) A trident-mark, sacred to Poseidon.
Fortunately about the position of these two sacred things there is no
doubt. Underneath the pavement of the westernmost chamber (_c_) of the
present Erechtheion is a large cistern[122] hewn in the rock, and at A in
the North porch are the marks of the trident.
[Illustration: FIG. 20.]
The two things together, the sea-water in the cistern and the
trident-mark, were both associated with Poseidon. Pausanias[123] says
they were said to be ‘the evidence produced by Poseidon in support of
his claim to the country.’ Apollodorus[124] says, ‘Poseidon came first
to Attica and smote with his trident in the middle of the Acropolis and
produced the sea which they now call Erechtheïs.’
Athena produced the olive-tree, Poseidon the salt well and the
trident-mark as ‘tokens’ or evidence of their claim. This is manifest
aetiology. There had been on the Acropolis from time immemorial certain
things reputed sacred, a gnarled olive-tree, a brackish well, three holes
in a rock. It was the obvious policy of any divinity who wished to be
worshipped at Athens to annex these tokens. Pandrosos had the olive-tree
before Athena. The name of the well Erechtheïs shows that it was a
‘token’ of Erechtheus rather than of Poseidon.
Such sacred trees, such ‘seas,’ such curious marks existed elsewhere;
Pausanias[125] himself notes in another inland place, Aphrodisias in
Caria, there was a sea-well. What impressed him as noteworthy about the
well at Athens was that when the South wind was blowing it gave forth
the sound of waves, but then as he does not say if he waited for a South
wind, the ‘sound of waves’ may have been a detail supplied by the guides.
* * * * *
The trident-mark belongs to a class of sacred things that will repay
somewhat closer attention. Fresh light has been thrown upon it by a
recent discovery. In examining the roof of the North Porch, with a view
to repairs, it was observed that immediately above the trident-mark an
opening in the roof had been purposely left. The object is clear; the
sacred token had to be left open to the sky; it had to be _sub divo_.
This is manifestly more appropriate to a sky-god than to a sea-god.
Our best analogies are drawn from Roman sources. Ovid[126] tells us that
when the new Capitol was being built a whole multitude of divinities were
consulted by augury as to whether they would withdraw to make place for
Jupiter. They tactfully consented, all but old Terminus. He stood fast,
remaining in his shrine, and still possesses a temple in common with
mighty Jupiter:
And still, that he may see only heaven’s signs
In the roof above him is a little hole.
When place was wanted for an Olympian, be he Zeus or Poseidon or Athena,
the elder divinities were not always so courteously consulted. We do not
even know whose open air token Poseidon seized.
Servius[127], commenting on ‘the steadfast stone of the Capitol,’ tells
the same story. There was a time when there was no temple of Jupiter,
that is there was no Jupiter. Augury said that the Tarpeian mount was
the place to build one, but on it were already a number of shrines of
other divinities. Ceremonies were performed to ‘call out’ by means of
sacrifice the other divinities to other temples. They all willingly
migrated, only Terminus declined to move: this was taken as a sign that
the Roman empire would be for all eternity, and hence in the Capitoline
temple the part of the roof immediately above, which looks down on the
very stone of Terminus, was open, _for to Terminus it is not allowable
to sacrifice save in the open air_. Terminus was just a sacred stone or
herm, incidentally to the practical Romans a boundary god. Another Roman
god, Fidius[128], had in his temple a roof with a hole in it (perforatum
tectum), and Fulgur, Caelum, Sol and Luna had all to dwell in hypaethral
temples[129]. Wherever the lightning struck was in Greece holy ground,
to be fenced in but open always above to the god who had sanctified it,
to the ‘descender,’ Kataibates[130]. Kataibates became Zeus Kataibates,
Fulgur Jupiter Fulgur, but the lightning and the ‘descender’ were there
before the coming of the Olympian, and the threefold mark preceded
Poseidon.
In picturing to ourselves therefore the ancient sanctities of the
Acropolis, we have to begin with certain natural holy things that were
there from time immemorial, that were holy in themselves, not because
they were consecrated to this or that divinity. Such were the olive-tree,
the salt sea-well, the trident-mark—we are back in a time rather of holy
things than divine persons. Successive heroic families, in possessing
themselves of the kingship, take possession of these sanctities; they
are as it were the regalia. In the time of the Kekropidae, Pandrosos,
daughter and _paredros_ of Kekrops, owns the olive-tree; in the time of
the Erechtheidae the well is called Erechtheïs, and all the sacred things
are included in an Erechtheion. It is worth noting that though Poseidon
claimed the well and the trident-mark he never gave his name to either,
and though Athena boasted of the olive-tree and snake, neither was ever
called after her.
* * * * *
The name of Erechtheus or Erechthonios marks a stage definitely later
than that of Kekrops. In the reign of Kekrops we hear nothing of foreign
policy. He is engaged in civilizing his people, in marrying them, in
teaching them to offer bloodless sacrifice. But the reign of Erechtheus
is marked by a great war. He fought with and conquered Eumolpos, king of
the neighbouring burgh Eleusis. Kekropia has taken the first step towards
that hegemony she was to obtain under Theseus.
Erechtheus, not Kekrops, is the king-hero known to Homer; the two
passages in which he and his city are mentioned are significant. In the
_Odyssey_[131], Athena, having counselled Odysseus, leaves him to make
his entrance alone into the house of Alkinoös, while she betakes herself
home. ‘Therewith grey-eyed Athene departed over the unharvested seas
and left pleasant Scheria and came to Marathon and wide-wayed Athens,
and entered the good house of Erechtheus.’ Here manifestly Athena has
no temple, she has to shelter herself in the good house of Erechtheus
(Ἐρεχθῆος πυκινὸν δόμον). That is how it used to be in the old kingly
days, the king was divine, his palace a sanctuary.
But in the Catalogue of the Ships[132]—allowed on all hands to be a
later document—things are quite otherwise. Among the captains of the
ships were ‘they that possessed the goodly citadel of Athens, the domain
of Erechtheus the high-hearted, whom erst Athene, daughter of Zeus,
fostered, when Earth, the grain-giver, brought him to birth;—and she gave
him a resting-place in Athens, in her own rich sanctuary; and there the
sons of the Athenians worship him with bulls and rams as the years turn
in their courses.’
The passage is a notable one. The singer is manifestly in some
difficulty. Athena by his time is supreme; she has a goodly temple: it
is she who offers hospitality to Erechtheus, not Erechtheus to her. Yet
the singer knows the early tradition that the goodly citadel belongs to
the king Erechtheus, he also knows the ritual fact that annual sacrifice
was offered to him. This ritual fact of the sacrifice to Erechtheus is
attested by Herodotus[133]. He tells us that the Epidaurians were allowed
to cut down sacred olive-trees to make statues from, on the express
condition that they annually sacrificed victims to Athena Polias and
Erechtheus. Here the goddess joins in the honours, a fact not expressly
stated in Homer, though probably understood.
* * * * *
So far we have Erechtheus, hero-king, snake-king, like the earlier
Kekrops and Athena. Athena, it is evident, is the later intruder, but
we have had no evidence of Poseidon. Poseidon’s position at Athens is
a very peculiar one. Unlike Erechtheus, he has no temple called after
him, he cannot give his name even to a salt sea-well, his trident-mark
is probably to begin with a thunder-smitten rock; unlike Athena he never
gets the people called after him, and yet, spite of all this, his worship
is ancient and deep-rooted, and from him rather than from Zeus or Athena
the old nobility of Athens claimed to be descended.
We are so accustomed to regard Athena as the Alpha and well-nigh the
Omega of Athenian religion that the priority of Poseidon, one of the
‘other gods,’ needs emphasis. The Athenians themselves, however, at least
the more conservative[134] among them, recognized it. Poseidon they knew
was son of Kronos, and Athena daughter only of the younger Zeus.
‘O Sea-Poseidon and ye elderly gods’
exclaims the youth in the _Plutus_ when he holds the torch to the
wrinkles in the old woman’s withered face. When, in the _Frogs_,
Euripides is made to utter what is taken to be a fine old conservative
sentiment, Dionysos answers ‘Good by Poseidon, that!’ When in the
_Knights_ Nicias the household slave—conservative after the manner of
his class—hears that the new demagogue is a black-pudding chandler, he
exclaims in horror,
‘A black-pudding chandler, Poseidon what a trade!’
The choice of Poseidon by the conservative party was no mere chance;
they believed in him, they swore by him, because they thought they were
descended from him. In the case of one noble family, the Butadae, this
descent was no mere chance tradition; their family tree was written up in
the Erechtheion itself, and they claimed to be descended from a certain
Butes, son of Poseidon and brother of Erechtheus. When Pausanias[135]
entered the later Erechtheion he saw in the first chamber three altars,
‘one sacred to Poseidon on which sacrifices are offered to Erechtheus
in accordance with the command of an oracle, one to the hero Butes,
and one to Hephaestos; the paintings on the wall represent the family
of the Butadae.’ It is often said that Erechtheus is merely a ‘title’
of Poseidon; this was the view of the lexicographers. Hesychius[136]
explains Erechtheus as ‘Poseidon at Athens.’ But the statement about the
altar shows that they were _not_ originally the same, the command of an
oracle was needed to affiliate them. It is a noticeable point moreover
that Poseidon has no temple of his own, only an altar in the ‘dwelling’
(οἴκημα) called the Erechtheion. This sanctuary bearing the kingly name,
remains his ‘steadfast house’ and is an eternal remembrance of the days
when the king was priest and the god’s vicegerent on earth.
But there came a time when kings ceased to be in the old full sense
incarnate gods, and then the kingly function was split into two offices,
secular and spiritual. Of this at Athens we have traces in the narrative
of Apollodorus[137]. He says ‘on the death of Pandion his sons divided
the paternal estate and Erechtheus took the kingship, but Butes took the
priesthood of Athena and of Poseidon the son of Erechthonios.’ It was the
family tree of the royal priest Butes that was religiously preserved in
the Erechtheion. The ‘paintings’ on the wall could of course only go back
to the rebuilding of those walls in 409 B.C., but the genealogical tree
would go back to time immemorial. In the _Lives of the Ten Orators_[138]
we hear of Lycurgus, the Eteobutad, as follows. His ancestors derived
from Erechtheus, son of Ge and Hephaestos, but his immediate ancestors
were Lycomedes and Lycurgus, whom the people had honoured with a public
funeral. And the descent of his family from those who held office as
priests of Poseidon is on a complete tablet in the Erechtheion written
up by Ismenios son of Chalcideus and there are wooden images of Lycurgos
and his sons, of Habron, Lycurgos and Lycophron made by Timarchos and
Cephisodotos the son of Praxiteles. And Habron dedicated the tablet to
his son, and coming in succession to the priesthood he resigned in favour
of his brother Lycophron. Hence Habron is represented handing over the
trident to him.
By such family trees, by the genealogies and successive priesthoods of
royal priestly families, was ancient chronology kept. Argive chronology
it will be remembered was reckoned by the years of the consecration of
the successive priestesses of Hera[139]. The record was kept in the
ancient sanctuary of the Heraion and the statues of the priestesses were
set up in front of the temple[140].
* * * * *
With the question of the cult of Athena we have not to deal, but as
Poseidon is emphatically one of the ‘other gods’ a word must be said
about the subordinate position he comes to occupy. This position is
remarkable. To the conservative party as we have seen he was a god of the
first importance; it is very noticeable that the chorus of Knights[141]
sing first to ‘Poseidon lord of horses’ and only second to ‘Pallas, She
of the Citadel.’ Their normal orthodox relation, Athena first, Poseidon
second, is reflected in the hymn at Colonos. Yet when we come to examine
the ritual of the two divinities we find that their priesthood was
conjoint; the Butadae held the priesthood not only of Poseidon but of
Athena[142].
These difficulties, these incongruities in tradition, would no doubt
be easily solved did we fully know the origin of the cults of Poseidon
and Athena. This at present is hidden from our eyes. Kekrops, Pandrosos,
Erechtheus, are obviously local. Their worship never spread beyond the
hill of Athens, but Poseidon and Athena were worshipped over the whole
of Hellas, and whether in Athens they were indigenous or imported cannot
at present be certainly said. Herodotus[143] emphatically states that
Poseidon originated in Libya, ‘for none except the Libyans originally
possessed the name of Poseidon and they have always worshipped him.’ It
is in Libya also that this same Herodotus[144] notes that the dwellers
round lake Tritonis sacrifice principally to Athena and next to Triton
and Poseidon, and from the Libyan women the Greeks obtained the dress and
the aegis of the statues of Athena.
If we may hazard a glimpse into things remote or dark, it may be
conjectured that the worship of Poseidon and Athena came from Libya
to Attica from a people geographically remote, but with racial
affinities[145]. That in Libya Athena was, as Herodotus notes, the more
important of the two. An old matriarchal goddess, transplanted to Athens
in the days of king Erechtheus, she fell when social conditions were
patriarchal rather than matriarchal to a subordinate place. Poseidon
rather than Athena stood at the head of the Athenian family trees. He
headed the conservative aristocratic party. But at some time of political
upheaval, possibly even as late as the time of Peisistratos[146], the
tide turned, and the ancient matriarchal goddess, as patron of the
tyrants and the democracy, reasserted herself. It is Athena not Poseidon
who brings Peisistratos back in her chariot to Athens. All this, the
prior supremacy of Poseidon, the resurgence of Athena, is reflected in
the myth of the _Eris_, the rivalry, the contest of the two divinities
for the land, in the aetiological myth of the planting of the olive-tree
and the smiting of the rock with the trident.
* * * * *
To resume, among the ‘other deities’ are first and foremost Kekrops
and Erechtheus, ancient eponymous kings, Pandrosos the daughter and
_paredros_ of Kekrops and later affiliated to these the immigrant
Poseidon. Their ‘sacred things’ are the tomb of Kekrops, the olive, the
‘sea,’ the trident-mark. The list does not exhaust the ‘other deities’
worshipped on the Acropolis; Zeus had altars, Artemis perhaps from early
days a precinct. Herakles, though probably an oriental immigrant, was
worshipped on the Acropolis at a very early date. It has been one of the
sudden corrections sometimes so sharply administered by archaeology to
our prejudice that, among the ancient poros sculptures of which so many
remains have come to light, Herakles is prominent, Theseus conspicuously
absent. But the group of deities and sanctities that cluster round the
Erechtheion are sufficient for our purpose, and for that of Thucydides.
They show that the Acropolis was the _polis_ for the simple reason that
‘_there are sanctuaries in the citadel itself, those of other deities as
well_’ (as the Goddess).
CHAPTER III.
THE SANCTUARIES THAT ARE OUTSIDE THE CITADEL.
καὶ τὰ ἔξω πρὸς τοῦτο τὸ μέρος τῆς πόλεως μᾶλλον ἵδρυται, τό τε
τοῦ Διὸς τοῦ Ὀλυμπίου καὶ τὸ Πύθιον καὶ τὸ τῆς Γῆς καὶ τὸ ἐν
Λίμναις Διονύσου (ᾧ τὰ ἀρχαιότερα Διονύσια τῇ δωδεκάτῃ ποιεῖται
ἐν μηνὶ Ἀνθεστηριῶνι) ὥσπερ καὶ οἱ ἀπ’ Ἀθηναίων Ἴωνες ἔτι καὶ
νῦν νομίζουσιν, ἵδρυται δὲ καὶ ἄλλα ἱερὰ ταύτῃ ἀρχαῖα.
THUCYD. II. 15.
Let us recapitulate. Thucydides has made a statement as to the city
before the days of Theseus.—_Before this, what is now the citadel was the
city, together with what is below it towards about South._ In support
of this statement he has adduced one argument. _The sanctuaries are in
the Citadel itself, those of other deities as well (as the Goddess)._ He
now adduces a second, ‘_And those that are outside are placed towards
this part of the city more (than elsewhere). Such are the sanctuary of
Zeus Olympios, and the Pythion, and the sanctuary of Ge, and that of
Dionysos-in-the-Marshes (to whom is celebrated the more ancient Dionysiac
Festival on the 12th day in the month Anthesterion, as is also the custom
down to the present day with the Ionian descendants of the Athenians);
and other ancient sanctuaries also are placed there._’
This second argument we have now to examine:—
By ‘_this part of the city_’ it is quite clear that Thucydides means that
portion of the city of his own day which he has carefully marked out;
_i.e._ the citadel _plus_ something, _plus_ ‘_what is below it towards
about South_’; by this we have seen is meant the upper citadel plus the
Pelargikon. This second piece of evidence is, like the first, adduced
simply to prove the small limits of the ancient city. But Thucydides has
expressed himself somewhat carelessly. Readers who did not know where the
sanctuaries adduced as instances were, might and have taken ‘_towards
this part of the city_’ to mean ‘_towards about South_.’ The proximity
of the two phrases and the appearance of a relation between them, if in
fact there be no relation is, as Dr Verrall[147] observes, ‘a flaw in
composition which would not have been passed by a pupil of Isocrates.’
The carelessness of Thucydides is, however, excusable enough. He assumes
that the position of the shrines he instances is known as it was by
every Athenian of his day. He also assumes that the main gist of his
argument is intelligently remembered, that his readers realize that he is
concerned with the character and _dimensions_ not the _direction_ of his
ancient city.
All that Thucydides tells us is that the sanctuaries outside the ancient
city are ‘_towards_’ it[148]: strictly speaking he gives us absolutely
no information as to whether they are North, South, East or West. But
‘towards’ _implies_ approach, and, if we are told that sanctuaries are
‘_towards_’ a place, we naturally think of ourselves as going there and
as finding these sanctuaries on and about the approach to that place.
As to the direction of the approach to the Acropolis there is happily
no manner of doubt. In Thucydides’ own days it was where it now is,
due West; in the days before the Persian War, the days when the old
sanctuaries grew up towards the approach, it was South-West. We know then
roughly where to look for our ‘outside’ sanctuaries; they will be about
the entrance West and South-West. We must however remember that the whole
ancient entrance with its fortifications, the Enneapylon, covered a far
wider area than is occupied by the Propylaea now; it took in the whole
West end of the hill and part of the North side, as well as part of the
South. The area included to the South was, as we have already seen (p.
34), much larger than that to the North.
* * * * *
_The Sanctuary of Zeus Olympios and the Pythion._ The two sanctuaries
first mentioned, those of Zeus Olympios and of Apollo Pythios, are
linked together more closely than by mere topographical juxtaposition.
In the Kerameikos Apollo Patroös[149] had a temple close to the Stoa of
Zeus Eleutherios; down near the Ilissos, Zeus Olympios had his great
sanctuary (Fig. 49), and near it Apollo Pythios had a temenos, and here,
where Thucydides is speaking of the most ancient foundation of the two
gods, father and son, they are manifestly in close conjunction. This is
fortunate for our argument. For it happens that, whereas we know the
exact site of the earliest Pythion, of this earliest Olympieion there are
no certain remains. From the known site of the Pythion and from the close
conjunction of the two we can deduce within narrow limits the unknown
site of the Olympion.
Possibly at this point, if the reader knows modern Athens, the words ‘the
unknown site’ of the Olympion will rouse an instinctive protest. Surely
the site of the Olympieion, with its familiar cluster of Corinthian
columns, is of all things most certain and familiar. It lies South-East
of the Acropolis not far from the Ilissos (see Fig. 49). A moment’s
consideration will however show that this Olympieion, though familiar, is
irrelevant, nay impossible. It is too remote to be described as _towards_
the ancient city, it is too recent to be accounted an ancient sanctuary.
It was, as Thucydides quite well knew, begun by Peisistratos[150].
We begin by fixing the site of the Pythion, happily certain.
Literature alone enables us within narrow limits to do this. In the _Ion_
of Euripides[151] Ion, learning that Creousa comes from Athens, presses
her for particulars about that ‘glorious’ city. As a priestling he is
naturally interested in all canonical legends, but what he is really
eager about is the ancient sacred spot which linked Athens to Delphi. The
nursling of Delphi eagerly asks
And is there there a place called the Long Rocks?
_Cre._ Why ask this? Oh the memory thou hast touched.
_Ion._ The Pythian honours it and the Pythian fires.
_Cre._ Honours it! he honours it! Curse the day I saw it.
_Ion._ What is it? You hate the haunts the god loves best.
_Cre._ Nothing. Those caves could tell a tale of shame.
But this is not what the pious Ion wants and he turns the subject.
The place at Athens dearest to the Pythian, the place his lightnings
honour is on the Long Rocks, and there, we may safely assume, was the
god’s earliest sanctuary.
The prologue of the same play tells us where the Long Rocks were, namely
on the North of the Acropolis. Hermes, who brought Ion to Delphi,
speaks[152]:
‘A citadel there is in Hellas famed,
Called after Pallas of the golden spear,
And, where the northern rocks ’neath Pallas’ hill
Are called the Long Rocks, Phoebus there by force
Did wed Creousa.’
Nor is it Ion only who knows that this place was honoured by the Pythian
fires, it is no mere ‘poetical’ figure. Strabo[153], in speaking of a
place called _Harma_ in Boeotia, says we must not confuse this Harma
with another Harma near Pyle, a deme in Attica bordering on Tanagra. In
connection with this Attic Harma, he adds, the proverb originated ‘When
it has lightened through Harma.’ Strabo further goes on to say that this
Harma, which is on Mt Parnes, to the North-West of Athens, was watched
by certain officials called Pythiasts for three days and nights in each
of three successive months; when a flash of lightning was observed a
sacrifice was despatched to Delphi. The place whence the observation was
taken was the altar of Zeus Astrapaios, Zeus of the Lightning, and this
altar was _in (or on) the (Acropolis) wall between the Pythion and the
Olympion_.
Euripides, it is clear, is alluding to this definite ritual which of
course would be familiar to Ion. That ritual he clearly conceived of as
taking place near the Long Rocks. Near the Long Rocks must therefore
have stood the altar of Zeus of the Lightning, on the wall between the
Olympieion and the Pythion. Not only the Pythion but the Olympieion
must therefore have been close to the Long Rocks. The word used by
Strabo for _wall_ (τεῖχος) is strictly a fortification wall, and we
should naturally understand it of that portion of the Pelargikon which
defends the North-West corner of the citadel and abuts on the Long Rocks
(Fig. 2). It is just here, close to the Pelargikon that we should, from
the account of Pausanias[154], expect to find Apollo’s ‘best loved’
sanctuary. Pausanias on leaving the Acropolis notes the Pelargikon, or as
he calls it Pelasgikon, and immediately after says ‘on the descent not to
the lower parts of the city but just below the Propylaea, is a spring of
water, and close by a sanctuary of Apollo in a cave; they think that it
was here he met Creousa, the daughter of Erechtheus.’
Pausanias says ‘a sanctuary of Apollo in a cave.’ It is the fact that
the sanctuary is in a cave that strikes and interests him. He does not
call it a _Pythion_. But by another writer the actual word _Pythion_ is
used. Philostratos[155] describes the route taken by the Panathenaic ship
thus: starting from the outer Kerameikos it sailed to the Eleusinion,
and, having rounded it, it was carried along past the Pelasgikon and came
alongside of the Pythion, where it is now moored. The Panathenaic way
has been, as will later be seen (p. 131), laid bare; for the moment all
that concerns us is that the Pythion is mentioned immediately after the
Pelasgikon and was therefore presumably next to it. Philostratos puts
what he calls the _Pythion_ in just the place where Pausanias[156] saw
his ‘sanctuary in a cave’; the two are identical. Further, any doubts as
to where the ship was moored are set at rest by Pausanias himself. He
saw the ship and noted its splendour. It stood ‘near the Areopagus.’ The
Pythion must have stood at the North-West corner of the Acropolis (Fig.
46).
* * * * *
Even if we relied on literary evidence only we should be quite sure that
the Pythion of which Thucydides speaks was somewhere on the Long Rocks,
at the North-West end of the Acropolis. Happily however the situation
is not left thus vague; the actual cave of Apollo has been found, and
thoroughly cleared out, and in it there came to light numerous inscribed
votive offerings to the god, which make the ascription certain.
From the lower tower at the North-West corner there have always been
clearly visible to any one looking up from below three caves (Fig. 21), a
very shallow one immediately over the Klepsydra, and two others nearer
together and somewhat deeper separated from the first by a shoulder of
rock. On the plan in Fig. 22 these are marked Α, Β and Γ. The question
has long been raised which of the three belonged to Apollo and which
to Pan. As Pausanias[157] first mentions the sanctuary of Apollo in a
cave and then passes on to tell the story of Pheidippides, manifestly _à
propos_ of Pan’s cave, it has been usual to connect Α with Apollo and Β
and Γ, one or both, with Pan.
[Illustration: FIG. 21.]
But the identification has never been felt to be quite satisfactory. The
cave Α is really no cave at all; it is a very shallow _niche_. It is
impossible to imagine it the scene of the story of Creousa. Moreover it
bears no traces of any votive offerings having been attached to its wall,
nor have any remains of such been found there.
Between cave Α and cave Β there is a connecting stairway α, α′, α″,
but it should be carefully noted that Α has no direct communication
with the upper part of the Acropolis nor with the Propylaea. The steep
staircase that leads down now-a-days from near the monument of Agrippa
to the little Church now built over the Klepsydra _looks_ very rocky and
primitive, but really only dates from mediaeval or at earliest late Roman
times. It was made at the time that the so-called ‘Valerian’ wall was
built, which starts from the Klepsydra and reaches to the Stoa of Attalos
(Fig. 46, dotted lines).
[Illustration: FIG. 22.]
We pass to cave Β, which formerly was believed to belong to Pan. Recent
excavations[158] leave no doubt that it was sacred to Apollo. The back
wall and sides of this cave are thickly studded with _niches_ for the
most part of oblong shape, but a few are round. About in the middle of
the cave is an extra large _niche_, which looks as if it had contained
the image of a god. Many of the _niches_ still show the holes which once
held nails for the fixing of votive tablets. As the cave became unduly
crowded with offerings they overflowed on to the rock at the left hand.
* * * * *
So far we are sure that cave Β was a sanctuary, but of whom? If Α did not
belong to Apollo we should expect that Β, as next in order, was Apollo’s
cave. The ground in front of Β has been cleared down to the living rock
and the results of this clearance[159] were conclusive. Exactly in front
of Β there came to light eleven tablets or _pinakes_ all of similar type,
and all bearing inscribed dedications to Apollo, either with the title
‘below the Heights,’ or ‘below the Long Rocks.’ Cave Β is clearly a
sanctuary of Apollo.
The votive tablets are all of late Roman date; it is probable however
that owing to the small space available, they superseded earlier
offerings of the same kind. The type scarcely varies. Specimens are
given in Fig. 23. The inscription is surrounded sometimes by an olive
wreath and sometimes by a myrtle wreath with characteristic berries.
Occasionally the wreath is tied by two snakes. Two inscriptions may serve
as a sample of the rest. On No. 1[160] (Fig. 23) is inscribed ‘Good
Fortune G(aios) Ioulios Metrodorus a Marathonian having borne the office
of Thesmothetes dedicated (this) to Apollo Below-the-Long (Rocks).’ In
the second[161] instance (Fig. 23) the dedicator states that he is ‘King’
(Archon), and the dedication is to Apollo ‘below the Heights.’ Clearly
the two titles of the god were interchangeable.
These dedications are of capital importance. It is little likely that
unless the custom had been of immemorial antiquity the archons would
have sought out an obscure cave-sanctuary in which to place their
commemorative tablets. Was there not the temple of Apollo Patroös in the
Market Place and the splendid Pythion down near the Ilissos?
[Illustration: FIG. 23.]
They chose the cave-sanctuary of Apollo in which to place, at the close
of their term of office, their votive tablet because it was in this
ancient sanctuary that they had taken their oath of fidelity on their
election. At the official scrutiny[162] of candidates for the archonship
enquiry was made as to the ancestry of the candidate on both father’s and
mother’s side. But it was not enough that he should be a full citizen,
he was also solemnly asked whether he had an Apollo Patroös and a Zeus
Herkeios and where their sanctuaries were. The Athenians, in so far as
they were Ionians, claimed descent through Ion from Apollo and of course
through Apollo from Zeus. The sanctuary in the cave was therefore to
them of supreme importance. This scrutiny over, the candidates went to a
sacred stone near the Stoa Basileios, and there, standing over the cut
pieces of the sacrificed victim, they took the oath to rule justly and to
take no bribes, and they swore that if any took a bribe he would dedicate
at Delphi[163] a gold statue commensurate in value.
The archons had to prove their relation to Apollo Patroös and to dedicate
a gold statue if they offended the Pythian god under whose immediate
control they stood. Moreover it was not enough that they should swear at
the Stoa Basileios. The oath was doubtless older than any Stoa Basileios
in the later Market Place. After they had sworn there they had to ‘go up
to the Acropolis and there swear the same oath again[164].’ Then and not
till then could they enter office. And whither on the Acropolis should
they go? Whither but to the cave where a little later they will dedicate
their votive tablets, and where still the foundations of an altar stand,
the cave of their ancestor Apollo Patroös and Pythios?
Whether the second oath, on the Acropolis, was taken actually in the
cave-sanctuary cannot be certainly decided; the votive tablets make
it probable and they make quite certain that the cave-sanctuary was
officially used by the archons. This fact it is necessary to emphasize.
Until these inscriptions were brought to light Apollo’s cave was thought
to be of but little importance, curious and primitive but practically
negligible. Now that it is clear that the archons selected it as their
memorial chapel, such a view is no longer possible. It was a sanctuary
not merely of Apollo Below-the-Heights but of the ancestral god, the
Apollo Patroös of the archons. Moreover—a fact all important—this Apollo
‘Below-the-Heights’ being Apollo Patroös was also Apollo Pythios.
Demosthenes in the _de Corona_[165], calling to witness his country’s
gods, says ‘I call on all the gods and goddesses who hold the land of
Attica and on Apollo the Pythian, who is ancestral (πατρῷος) to the
state.’ The sanctuary in the cave was a Pythion. Apollo coming as he did
to Athens from Pytho was always Pythian whatever additional title he
might take, and every sanctuary of his was a Pythion; his most venerable
sanctuary was not a temple but a hollowed rock.
* * * * *
The Pythion lies before us securely fixed, primitive, convincing. With
the ‘sanctuary of Zeus Olympios’ it is alas! far otherwise. Given that
the Pythion is fixed at the North-West corner of the Acropolis, and given
that, according to Strabo (see p. 69), it was so near the Olympieion
that the place of an altar could be described as ‘between’ them, then
it follows that somewhere near to that North-West corner the sanctuary
of Zeus Olympios must have lain. We may further say that as Thucydides,
it will be seen, notes the various sanctuaries and the city-well in the
order from East to West, and begins with the sanctuary of Zeus Olympios,
it lay presumably somewhat to the East of the Pythion. To the East of the
Pythion, near to the supposed site of the temenos of Aglauros, was found
an inscription[166] with a dedication to Zeus, but, as inscriptions are
easily moveable, no great importance can be attached to this isolated
fact. Of definite monumental evidence for the existence of a sanctuary
of Zeus where we seek it, we must frankly own at the outset there is
nothing certain[167]. It must stand or fall with the Pythion.
Before examining such literary evidence as exists it is necessary to
note clearly that Thucydides mentions not a _temple_ but a _sanctuary_.
The great temple near the Ilissos, begun by Peisistratos[168], and not
completed till centuries later by Antiochus Epiphanes and Hadrian, is
usually spoken of as a temple (ναός), but we have no grounds whatever for
supposing that on or near the Long Rocks there was a temple, but only a
sanctuary[169], which may very likely have been merely a precinct with
an altar. Such a precinct and altar might easily disappear and leave no
trace. This is of importance for the understanding of what follows.
When we come to literary evidence one point is clear. Before Peisistratos
began the building of his great _temple_ there existed another and
earlier place for the worship of Zeus, and this is spoken of as not a
temple but a sanctuary. Pausanias[170], when he visited the great temple,
wrote, ‘They say that Deucalion built the old sanctuary of Zeus Olympios,
and, as a proof of the sojourn of Deucalion at Athens, point to his tomb,
which is not far distant from the present temple.’
It has usually been assumed that this earlier sanctuary was on or near
the site of the later temple, but, as Prof. Dörpfeld[171] has pointed
out, this is no-wise stated by Pausanias. He only says that there was
a _tomb_ of Deucalion, not far from the present temple, and that the
existence of this tomb made people attribute to Deucalion the building
of the early sanctuary. Where the early sanctuary was he does _not_ say.
It should be noted that he is careful to use the word _sanctuary_, not
temple, in speaking of the foundation of Deucalion.
From this it follows, I think, that when we hear of a _sanctuary_ of Zeus
Olympios, not a temple, there is a slight presumption in favour of its
being the earlier foundation. In the opening scene of the _Phaedrus_[172]
an ‘Olympion,’ i.e. a sanctuary of Zeus, is mentioned. Socrates and
Phaedrus meet somewhere, presumably within the city walls, for Socrates
is later taxed with never going for a country walk. Socrates says, ‘So
it seems Lysias was up in town.’ Phaedrus answers, ‘Yes, he is staying
with Epikrates in yonder house, near the Olympion, the one that used to
belong to Morychus.’ The favourite haunt of Socrates was the agora; a
stroll by the Ilissos was to him a serious and unusual country walk. Our
Olympion at the North-West corner of the Acropolis would fit the scene
somewhat better than the great temple near the Ilissos; but that is all,
the passage _proves_ nothing.
* * * * *
A question more important perhaps than any topographical issue remains.
Do we know anything of the nature of the god worshipped in the ancient
sanctuary, or of the character of his ritual? The question may seem to
some superfluous. Zeus is surely Zeus everywhere and for all time, his
cloud-compelling nature and his splendid sacrificial feasts familiar
from Homer downwards. But then what of Deucalion? Deucalion is a figure
manifestly Oriental, a feeble copy of the archetypal Noah. Why does he
institute the worship of our immemorial Indo-European Zeus? Are there two
Zeuses?
There were, at least at Athens, two festivals of Zeus. Thucydides[173]
himself is witness. He tells us of the trap laid for Kylon in
characteristic fashion by the Delphic oracle. Kylon was to seize the
Acropolis ‘on the greatest festival of Zeus.’ But this ‘greatest
festival’ was alas for him! not of the Zeus he, as an Olympian victor,
remembered, but of ‘Zeus Meilichios,’ and—significant fact for us—it, the
familiar Diasia, was celebrated ‘outside the city.’ This ‘outside the
city’ cannot fail, used as the words are by Thucydides himself, to remind
us of our sanctuary, also ‘outside.’
What may be dimly discerned, though certainly no-wise demonstrated,
is this. The name _Zeus_ is one of the few divine titles as to which
philologists agree that it is Indo-European. But the name Zeus was
attached to persons and conceptions many and diverse, and here in
Athens it was attached to a divinity of Oriental nature and origin.
Meilichios[174] is but the Graecized form of Melek, the ‘King’ best known
to us as Moloch, a deity who like the Greek Meilichios loved holocausts,
a deity harsh and stern, who could only by a helpless and hopelessly
mistaken etymology be called Meilichios the Gentle One. His worship
prevailed in the Peiraeus, brought thither probably by Phenician sailors,
from his sanctuary there came the familiar reliefs with the great snake
as the impersonation of the god. It was this Semitic Melek whom Deucalion
brought in his ark. When this Semitic immigration took place it is hard
to say. Tradition, as evidenced by the _Parian Chronicle_[175], placed it
in the reign of the shadowy Attic king Kranaos, about 1528 B.C.
* * * * *
The sanctuaries of both Zeus and Apollo are alike outside the ancient
city. Zeus had altars on the Acropolis itself; Apollo, great though he
was, never forced an entrance there. The fact is surely significant.
Herodotus[176], it will be remembered, marks the successive stages of
the development of Athens: under Kekrops they were Kekropidai, under
Erechtheus they were Athenians, and last, ‘when Ion, son of Xuthos,
became their leader, from him they were called Ionians.’ Ion was the
first Athenian polemarch[177].
One thing is clear, Ion marks the incoming of a new race, a race with
Zeus and Apollo for their gods. From the blend of this new stock with
the old autochthonous inhabitants arose the Ionians. Zeus and Apollo
were called ‘ancestral’ at Athens because they _were_ ancestral; the new
element traced its descent from them, and presumably the affiliation was
arranged by Delphi; but Apollo, though his sanctuary was _on_ the hill,
never got _in_side.
Ion had for divine father Apollo, but his real human father was Xuthos.
This Xuthos, as immigrant conqueror, marries the king’s daughter Creousa.
Xuthos was really a local hero of the deme Potamoi[178], near Prasiae.
He came of Achaean stock, and therefore had Zeus for ancestor. Hermes,
in the prologue to the _Ion_[179], is quite clear. There was war between
Athens and Euboea:
And Xuthos strove and helped them with the sword
And had Creousa, guerdon of his aid,
No home-born hero he, but son of Zeus
And Aiolos, Achaean.
And again[180], when Ion questions his unknown mother as to her husband:
_Ion._ And what Athenian took thee for his wife?
_Cre._ No citizen: an alien from another land.
_Ion._ Who? For a well-born man he needs had been.
_Cre._ Xuthos, of Zeus and Aiolos the offspring he.
The tomb of Ion, significant fact, was not at Athens but at Potamoi, and
Pausanias[181] saw it there. Well may the sanctuaries of Zeus and Apollo
stand together.
* * * * *
To return to the question of topography. That the cave marked Β on the
plan is sacred to Apollo admits, in the face of the inscribed votive
tablets, of no doubt. But a difficulty yet remains. It was noted in
speaking of the cave above the Klepsydra that it was too shallow and
too exposed to be a natural scene of the story of Creousa. The same
objections, though in a somewhat less degree, apply to the cave marked Β.
The difficulty, however, admits of an easy solution.
The excavators proceeded to clear out cave Γ, and here they found
nothing, no votive tablets, no altar, no inscriptions. But in carrying
on their work further East they came on a fourth cave, of a character
quite different from that of Α, Β, or Γ. The fourth cave, Δ, has a very
narrow entrance; it communicates by a narrow passage with Δ′ and also
with Δ″, but Δ″ has been turned into a small Christian church, of which
the pavement and a portion of a brick wall yet remain. Here at Δ we have
a cave in the full sense of the word, and here we have in all probability
the cave or caves, the ‘seats[182]’ (θακήματα) of Pan.
But, be it remembered, Pan was a late-comer; his worship was introduced
after his services at Marathon. In heroic days, the time of the story of
Creousa, the Long Rocks were shared by the Pythian god and the daughters
of Aglauros. The hollow triple cave marked Δ′, Δ″, Δ‴ was once the
property of Apollo, and it saw the birth of Ion; later it was handed
over to Pan, and is again, as in the _Lysistrata_[183], the natural
sequestered haunt of lovers. Kinesias, on the Acropolis, points out to
Myrrhine that near at hand is the sanctuary of Pan for seclusion, and
close by the Klepsydra for purification.
In the countless votive tablets[184] to Pan and the nymphs, the type
varies little. We have a cave, an altar: round the altar three nymphs are
dancing, usually led by Hermes, and, perched on the side of the cave or
looking through a hole, Pan is piping to them. The three nymphs, three
daughters of Kekrops, were then dancing on the Long Rocks long before Pan
came to pipe to them. Concerned as we are for the present with Apollo
and his Pythion, it is only necessary to note that their shrine, the
sanctuary of Aglauros, must have been near the cave of Pan, somewhere to
the East. Euripides[185] speaks of them as practically one:
O seats of Pan and rock hard by
To where the hollow Long Rocks lie
Where, before Pallas’ temple-bound
Aglauros’ daughters three go round
Upon their grassy dancing-ground
To nimble reedy staves.
Where thou O Pan art piping found
Within thy shepherd caves.
Exactly where that sanctuary of Aglauros was excavations have not
established. At the point where the cavern is closed by the little modern
church, begins a stairway, consisting of seventeen steps (θ-κ-λ-μ-),
cut in the rock. These steps manifestly lead up to the steps already
known, which lead down, twenty-two in number, from the Erechtheion. This
is probably the ‘opening’ (ὄπη) down which the deserting women in the
_Lysistrata_[186] were caught escaping. Still further East is a long
narrow subterranean passage, a natural cleft in the rock π-π′, and
at the end of this, just above the modern Church of the Seraphim, is
supposed to be the sanctuary of Aglauros. Here were found a niche in the
rock, the basis of a statue, and some fragments of black-figured vases.
Here again there is communication with the Acropolis, but only by a
ladder ascending the cliff for about twenty feet at a precipitous point.
Moreover the upper part of the stone stairway is of mediaeval date so
that it is not likely that the ascent was an ancient one.
* * * * *
_The Sanctuary of Ge._—The site of this sanctuary can, within very narrow
limits be determined.
Pausanias, in describing the South side of the Acropolis, after passing
the Asklepieion, notes the temple of Themis and the monument of
Hippolytus. Apropos of this he mentions and probably saw a sanctuary of
Aphrodite Pandemos (p. 105); he then says ‘there is also a sanctuary of
Ge Kourotrophos and Demeter Chloe’; immediately afterwards he passes
through the Propylaea. The sanctuary of Ge must therefore have been
at the South-West corner or due West of the Acropolis, and presumably
somewhere along the winding road followed by Pausanias (see Plan, p. 38).
From the account of Pausanias[187] we should gather that Ge Kourotrophos,
Earth the Nursing-Mother, and Demeter Chloe, Green Demeter had a
sanctuary together; perhaps they had by the time of Pausanias, but the
considerable number of separate dedications[188] to Demeter Chloe makes
it probable that at least in earlier days these precincts, though near,
were distinct.
The union of Ge Kourotrophos and Demeter Chloe is not the union of
Mother and Maid, it is the union of two Mother-goddesses. Of the two
Demeter belongs locally not to Athens but to Eleusis. Ge Kourotrophos is
obviously the earlier and strictly local figure. But Demeter of Eleusis,
from various causes, political and agricultural, developed to dimensions
almost Olympian, and her figure tended everywhere to efface that of the
local Earth-Mother, hence we need not be surprised that the number of
dedications to Demeter is larger than that of those to Kourotrophos.
Kourotrophos appears among the early divinities enumerated by the woman
herald in the _Thesmophoriazusae_[189], and the scholiast, in his comment
on the passage, recognizes her antiquity: ‘either Earth or Hestia; it
comes to the same thing; they sacrifice to her before Zeus.’ Suidas[190]
states that Erichthonios was the first to sacrifice to her on the
Acropolis, and instituted the custom that ‘those who were sacrificing to
any god should first sacrifice to her.’
* * * * *
_The Sanctuary of Dionysos-in-the-Marshes._
The name Dionysos at once carries us in imagination to the famous theatre
on the South side of the Acropolis (Fig. 16), and we remember perhaps with
some relief that this theatre is, quite as much as the Pythion, ‘towards’
the ancient city; it lies right up against the Acropolis rock. We remember
also that Pausanias[191], in his account of the South slope, says ‘the
oldest sanctuary of Dionysos is beside the theatre.’ He sees within the
precinct there two temples, the foundations of which remain to-day; one
of them was named Eleutherian, the other we think may surely have belonged
to Dionysos-in-the-Marshes. It is true that the ground about the theatre
is anything but marshy now, nor could it ever have been very damp, as it
slopes sharply down to the South-East. Still, from an ancient name it is
never safe to argue[192]; _in-the-marshes_ _may_ have been a mere popular
etymology from a word the meaning of which was wholly lost.
But a moment’s reflection shows that the identification, though tempting,
will not do. Thucydides himself (p. 66) seems to warn us; he seems to
say, ‘not that precinct which you all know so well and think so much of,
not that theatre where year by year you all go, but an earlier and more
venerable place, and, that there be no mistake, the place where you go on
the 12th day of Anthesterion, and where your ancestors went before they
migrated to colonize Asia Minor.’
It is most fortunate that Thucydides has been thus precise, because
about this festival on the 12th day of Anthesterion we know from
other sources[193] certain important details which may help to the
identification of the sanctuary.
* * * * *
The festival celebrated on the 12th of Anthesterion was the Festival of
the Choes or Pitchers[194]. On this day, we learn from Athenaeus[195] and
others, the people drank new wine, each one by himself, offered some to
the god, and brought to the priestess in the sanctuary in the Marshes the
wreaths they had worn. On this day took place also a ceremony of great
sanctity, the marriage of the god to the wife of the chief archon—the
‘king’ as he was called. The actual marriage took place in a building
called the Boukoleion, the exact site of which is not known; but certain
preliminary ceremonies were gone through by the Bride in the sanctuary
in-the-Marshes. The author of the Oration ‘_against Neaera_[196]’ tells
us that there was a law by which the Bride had to be a full citizen and
a virgin when she married the king, she was bound over to perform the
ceremonies required of her ‘according to ancestral custom,’ to leave
nothing undone, and to introduce no innovations. This law, the orator
tells us, was engraved on a stele and set up alongside of the altar in
the sanctuary of Dionysos in-the-Marshes, and remained to his day, though
the letters were somewhat dim.
But this, though much, is not all. The orator goes on to tell us why
the law was written up in this particular sanctuary. ‘And the reason
why they set it up in the most ancient sanctuary of Dionysos and the
most holy, in the Marshes, is that not many people may read what is
written. For it is opened once only in each year, on the 12th of the
month Anthesterion[197].’ Finally, having sufficiently raised our
curiosity, he bids the clerk read the actual oath administered by this
pure Bride to her attendants, administered before they touch the sacred
things, and taken _on_ the baskets at the altar. The clerk is to read
it that all present may realize how venerable and holy and ancient the
accustomed rite was. The oath of the attendants was as follows: ‘_I
fast and am clean and abstinent from all things that make unclean and
from intercourse with man, and I will celebrate the Theoinia and the
Iobakcheia to Dionysos in accordance with ancestral usage and at the
appointed times._’
We shall meet again the precinct, the altar, the stele, the oath; for the
present it is all-important to note that the precinct _In-the-Marshes_
was open but once a year, and that on the 12th of Anthesterion. It is
impossible, therefore, that this precinct could be identical with the
precinct near the theatre on the South slope[198], as this must have
been open for the Greater Dionysia, celebrated in the month Elaphebolion
(March-April).
The precinct _In-the-Marshes_ has been sought and found; but before we
tell the story of its finding, in order that we may realize what clue was
in the hands of the excavators, it is necessary to say a word as to the
time and place of the festivals of Dionysos at Athens.
* * * * *
Thucydides himself tells us that the Dionysiac festivals were two, an
earlier and a later. His use of the comparative—‘Dionysos-in-the-Marshes,’
he says, ‘to whom is celebrated the _more ancient_ Dionysiac
Festival,’—makes it clear that, to his mind, there were two and only two.
The later festival, the Greater Dionysia, was celebrated in the precinct
of Dionysos Eleuthereus; the time, we noted before, was the month
Elaphebolion.
The ‘more ancient Dionysiac Festival’ is of course a purely informal
descriptive title. But it happens that we know the official title of the
two Athenian festivals, the earlier and the later[199].
1. The later festival, that in the present theatre, was called in laws
and official inscriptions ‘the (Dionysia) in the town’ (τὰ ἐν ἄστει), or
‘the town Dionysia’ (ἀστικὰ Διονύσια).
2. The more ancient festival was called either ‘the Dionysia at the
Lenaion’ (τὰ ἐπὶ Ληναίῳ Διονύσια), or ‘the (dramatic) contest at the
Lenaion’ (ὁ ἐπὶ Ληναίῳ ἀγών), or, more simply, ‘the Lenaia’ (τὰ Λήναια).
We have got two _festivals_, an earlier and a later, the earlier called
officially ‘Lenaia,’ or ‘the dramatic contest at the Lenaion’; but were
there two _theatres_ also, an earlier and a later? Yes. Pollux[200] tells
us there was a Dionysiac theatre and a ‘Lenaic’ one—just the very word we
wanted. And to clinch the whole argument we find that the ‘Lenaic’ one
was the earlier. Hesychius[201], explaining the phrase, ‘the dramatic
contest at the Lenaion,’ says, ‘there is in the city the Lenaion with
a large enclosure, and in it a sanctuary of Dionysos Lenaios. In this
(_i.e._ presumably the enclosure) the dramatic contests of the Athenians
took place, before the theatre was built.’
This ‘theatre,’ where the plays were performed before the theatre of
Eleuthereus was built, was no very grand affair; its seats, it would
seem, were called ‘scaffoldings’ (ἴκρια). Photius[202] in explaining the
word _ikria_ says, ‘the (structure) in the agora from which they watched
the Dionysiac contests before the theatre in the precinct of Dionysos was
built.’
Photius, while explaining the ‘scaffolding,’ gives us incidentally a
priceless piece of information. This early theatre was _in the agora_.
But then, to raise a time-honoured question, to which we shall later (p.
132) return, where is the agora? This question for the present we must
not pursue. But the ancient theatre consisted of more than ‘scaffolding’
for seats. It had what was the central, initial, cardinal feature of
every Greek theatre, its dancing place, its _orchestra_; and we know
approximately where this orchestra was. A lexicographer[203], explaining
the word _orchestra_, says, ‘a conspicuous place for a public festival,
where are the statues of Harmodios and Aristogeiton.’
The agora, conducted by successive theorists, has made the complete tour
of the Acropolis, but the statues of the Tyrant-Slayers cannot break
loose from the Areopagus,—beneath which ‘not far’ from the temple of
Ares, Pausanias[204] saw them. The statues, according to Timaeus, were
at the site of the ancient orchestra[205], from the scaffolding of which
‘in the agora’ the more ancient festival (the Lenaia) was witnessed.
Here then, somewhere near the Areopagus, we must seek the sanctuary of
Dionysos-in-the-Marshes.
The Lenaia, though more ancient than the ‘city Dionysia’ was no obscure
festival. Plato[206], in the _Protagoras_, mentions a comedy which
Pherecrates had brought out at the Lenaia, and it can never be forgotten
that for the Lenaia, in 405 B.C., Aristophanes wrote the _Frogs_[207].
The chorus of Frogs[208] assuredly remember that their home is in the
Limnae. There they were wont to croak and chant at the Anthesteria,
on the third day of which festival, the Chytroi or Pots, came the ‘Pot
Contests,’ probably the earliest dramatic performances that Athens saw.
‘O brood of the mere, the spring,
Gather together and sing
From the depths of your throat
By the side of the boat
Co-äx, as we move in a ring;
As in Limnae we sang the divine
Nyseïan Giver of Wine,
When the people in lots
With their sanctified Pots
Came reeling around my shrine.’
The excavations which have brought to light the ancient sanctuary of
the Limnae were not undertaken solely, or even chiefly, with that
object. Rather the intention was to settle, if possible, other and wider
topographical questions: where lay the ancient road to the Acropolis,
where the ancient agora, and where the city well, Kallirrhoë. Yet, to
some, who awaited with an almost breathless impatience the result of
these excavations, their great hope was that the precinct of the Limnae
might be found; that they might know where in imagination to picture the
ancient rites of the Anthesteria and the marriage of the Queen and those
earliest dramatic contests from which sprang tragedy and comedy. The
wider results of the excavations will be noted in connection with the
Enneakrounos; for the moment it is the narrower, intenser issue of the
_Limnae_ that alone concerns us.
* * * * *
So far our only topographical clues have been two. (1) Thucydides has
told us that the sanctuary in the Marshes with the other sanctuaries he
mentions was ‘_towards_’ the ancient city; we have fixed the Pythion at
the North-West corner of the Acropolis, and as his account seems to be
moving westwards, we expect the Dionysiac sanctuary to be West of that
point. (2) We know also (p. 87) that the ancient orchestra was near
the Areopagus. We look for a site for the Dionysia which shall combine
these two directions. If that site is also a possible Marsh, so much the
better; and here indeed, in the hollow between the Pnyx, Areopagus, and
Acropolis, water is caught and confined; but for artificial drainage,
here marsh-land must be. This, by practical experience, the excavators
soon had reason to know.
[Illustration: FIG. 24.]
A portion of the results of the excavations begun by the German
Archaeological Institute in 1887[209] and lasting for upwards of ten
years is to be seen on the plans in Figs. 24 and 35. The enlarged plan
of a portion of the excavations (Fig. 24) for the moment alone concerns
us. The first substantial discovery that rewarded the excavators was
the finding of the ancient road. It followed, as Professor Dörpfeld
had always predicted it would, the lie of the modern road. Roads being
strictly conditioned by the law of least resistance do not lightly alter
their course. The present carriage road to the Acropolis is a little less
devious in its windings than the ancient one, that is all (Fig. 35).
[Illustration: FIG. 25.]
Just below where the ancient road passes down from the West shoulder of
the Acropolis, and at a level much higher than that of the road itself,
the excavators came on a building of Roman date and indifferent masonry,
which proved to be a large hall, with two rows of columns dividing it
into a central nave and two aisles. To the East the hall was furnished
with a quadrangular apse. Within this apse was found an altar[210]
decorated with scenes from the worship of Dionysos, a goat being dragged
to the altar, a Satyr, a Maenad, and the like. This altar would in itself
rouse the suspicion that we are in a sanctuary dedicated to Dionysos, but
fortunately we are not left to evidence so precarious.
Of far greater interest than the altar, and indeed for our purpose of
supreme importance, was another discovery. In the apse, with the altar
mentioned and other altars, was found the drum of a column (Fig. 25),
which had once stood in the great hall; columns just like it are still
standing, so that it belongs without doubt to the building. On it is
an inscription[211], divided into two columns and 167 lines in length,
which from its style may be dated about the third century A.D. Above the
inscription, in a relief in pediment form containing Dionysiac symbols,
two panthers stand heraldically, one to either side of a _cantharus_;
above is the head of a bull. Inscriptions arranged in this fashion on
columns are not unusual in the third century A.D.[212]
The inscription contains the statutes of a _thiasos_, or club of persons
calling themselves Iobakchoi, who met in a place—the hall where the
inscription was set up—called the Bakcheion. This is our quadrangular
building marked _Bakcheion_ on the plan (Fig. 24). The rules, which are
given in great detail, are very interesting, but for the present one
thing only concerns us—the name of the thiasos, the Iobakchoi. Iobakchos
was a title of Dionysos, a title probably derived from a cry uttered in
his worship, and, we remember (p. 85) with sudden delight, the _Gerarae_,
the attendants of the Queen, promised in their oath to celebrate, in
accordance with ancestral usage, the Iobakcheia.
But the building, and even the traces of an earlier structure that
preceded it[213], are of late date; we are on the spot, and yet so far
the sanctuary in the Marshes eludes us. But not for long. Digging deeper
down, to the level of the ancient road, the excavators came on another
and an earlier structure, the triangular precinct marked on the plan, and
here at last evidence was found that settled for ever the site of the
sanctuary of Dionysos-in-the-Marshes.
* * * * *
The sanctuary, for such we shall immediately see it was, is of triangular
shape, and lies substantially lower than the roads by which it is
bounded. The sides of the triangle face approximately, North, East and
South-West. The precinct is surrounded by an ancient polygonal wall, a
portion of which from the South end of the South-West side is shown
in Fig. 26. The material is throughout blue calcareous stone, but the
masonry is by no means of uniform excellence or of the same date. At
various periods the wall must have undergone repairs. The space enclosed
is about 560 square metres. Owing to the fact that the precinct lay
deeper than the surrounding roads, sometimes to the extent of two metres,
the wall is supported in places by buttresses, only one of which is of
good Greek masonry; the rest seem to have been added shortly before the
ancient precinct fell into disuse.
[Illustration: FIG. 26.]
A notable point about this precinct wall is that there is no trace of any
large entrance-gate. We expect a gate at the South-West side, where the
precinct is skirted by the main road. Here the wall is well preserved,
but there is no trace of any possible gate. The only feasible place is at
the South end of the East wall, where there seems to have been a break,
and towards this point, as we shall see, the small temple is orientated.
Here, then, and in all probability here only, was there access to the
precinct.
At the North-West corner the excavators came on a structure so far
unique in the history of discoveries. They found a walled-in floor 4·70
m. by 2·80. This floor is carefully paved with a mixture of pebbles,
stone, and cement, and _is inclined to one corner_ at an angle of 0·25
m. At this lowest point there is a hole through the wall enclosing the
floor, and outside, let into the pavement, is a large vessel, 0·50 m.
in diameter, quadrangular above, round below. They had found, beyond
all possible doubt, what they had never dared to hope they might find,
an ancient Greek _wine-press_ or _lenos_, and at the finding of that
wine-press fled the last lingering misgiving. In Fig. 27 is a view[214]
of the wine-press, which shows clearly how it lies just in the corner
of the triangular precinct, with its South-West wall (in the front of
the picture) abutting on the Panathenaic way. The stucco floor of the
wine-press comes out in dead white. In the background can be seen, to the
right, the North aisle of the rectangular Bakcheion, and, to the left,
the foot of the Areopagus rock.
[Illustration: FIG. 27.]
The wine-press, which is shown in section in Fig. 28, had, like the
precinct, had a long history. It had been rebuilt more than once. The
paved floors of two successive structures are clearly visible. The upper
one is smaller than the lower, and, of course, of later date. It is,
however, below the level of the Bakcheion, and must have been underground
when the Bakcheion was built. The lower wine-press is at the same level
as the _Lesche_, on the opposite side of the road, which is known to be
of the 4th century B.C. Under this 4th century wine-press is a pavement
which must have belonged to a third, yet earlier structure. It may be
noted that these wine-presses are in every respect exactly similar to
those in use among the Greeks to-day. The wine-press within the precinct
is not the only one that came to light; scattered about near at hand were
several others. Two can be seen on the plan in Fig. 35. It was indeed a
place of wine-presses, a _Lenaion_.
[Illustration: FIG. 28.]
[Illustration: FIG. 29.]
The wine-press in itself would mark the precinct as belonging to
Dionysos, but there was more evidence forthcoming. In the centre of the
precinct is the foundation in poros stone of a large altar, 3·10 metres
square (Fig. 29). In this foundation there once were four holes; three
of them remain, and the fourth may be safely supplied. These holes are
evidently intended for the supports on which the actual altar-table
rested. Such altar-tables are familiar in vase-paintings, and seem
to have been in use specially in the cult of Dionysos; they held the
wine-jars offered to the god, and baskets of fruit such as those on which
the attendants of the Queen took their oath (p. 85). Moreover, the actual
altar-slab of just such a table has been found in Attica, and it bears
an inscription to Dionysos Auloneus[215]. Yet another important point
remains. On the West step of the altar foundation a long groove is sunk
in the stone. Its purpose is obvious. Both on the Acropolis and elsewhere
in sacred precincts such grooves are found, and they served to contain
the bases of _stelae_, on which decrees, dedications, and the like were
inscribed. Is it not at least possible that we have here not only the
altar on which the Queen took her oath, but the groove in which was
set up the very stele on which it was inscribed, the stele which stood
‘alongside of the altar’ (παρὰ τὸν βωμόν)?
We have, then, a precinct secluded from the main road; within it, open to
the air, a great altar. But inside this precinct not a single inscription
nor any sort of votive offering has come to light. In a precinct so
important this at first sight seems strange. The explanation lies to
hand. Votive offerings are meant to be seen, meant to show forth the
piety of the worshipper as well as the glory of the god. Was it worth
while to dedicate an offering in a precinct that was open but for one
day in the whole year? Apparently not. This was essentially a ‘mystery’
sanctuary, with no touch of the museum.
* * * * *
In the sanctuary of Dionysos-in-the-Marshes we expect not only precinct
and altar but an actual temple, the existence of which we know, not from
Thucydides, but from the scholiast[216] on the _Frogs_ of Aristophanes.
Commenting on the word ‘marsh’ he says, ‘a sacred place of Dionysos, in
which there is a dwelling and a temple of the god.’ Callimachus in the
_Hekale_ says,
‘To him, Limnaios, do they keep the feast
With choral dances.’
The ‘dwelling’ may be some building that contained the wine-press; the
temple happily has been found, and its position in relation to the
precinct is strange and significant.
The foundations of the temple came to light in the South corner of the
precinct. It is of small size (3·96 by 3·40 m.), and consists of a
quadrangular cella and a narrow pronaos. From its small size it seems
unlikely that the pronaos had any columns. The masonry is very ancient.
The walls are polygonal, and the blocks of calcareous stone of which they
are made are on the South-West side unusually large. In the foundations
of the side-walls a few _poros_ blocks occur. There are no steps serving
as foundation to either cella or pronaos. From this Professor Dörpfeld
concludes that in all probability this temple is earlier than the temple
of Dionysos Eleuthereus, close to the _skenè_ of the theatre. The temple
of Eleuthereus belonged to the time of Peisistratos; it is more carefully
built than the one newly discovered, and it has one step. Early though
the newly discovered building undoubtedly is, it was preceded by a yet
earlier structure, the walls of which, marked on the plan, lie beneath
its foundations.
Quite exceptional is the relation of the temple to the precinct. It does
not lie in the middle, and is, moreover, separated from the inner part of
the precinct by a wall and a door that could be closed. This separating
wall is however apparently later than the temple, which possibly at
one time stood free within the precinct. The separating wall is only
explicable on ritual grounds. It made it possible for the temple to be
accessible all the year round, whereas the precinct, save for one day in
the year, was closed.
* * * * *
Are we to give to the ancient sanctuary the name _Lenaion_? To the
sanctuary itself probably not. The meaning of _Lenaion_, it would
seem, is not ‘sanctuary of the god Lenaios,’ but rather ‘place of the
wine-press.’ It is noticeable that writers who could themselves have
seen the sanctuary never call it _Lenaion_. Thucydides[217], the writer
of the oration _against Neaera_[218], be he Demosthenes or Apollodorus,
and again Phanodemus[219], as quoted by Athenaeus, all speak of it as
the sanctuary of _Dionysos-in-the-Marshes_. Isaeus[220] calls it the
Dionysion-in-the-Marshes. On the other hand, when contemporary authors
speak of the dramatic contest which was held not in honour of Dionysos
Eleuthereus but at the older Dionysia, they speak of the contest as _at_
or _on_ the Lenaion, never as _in-the-Marshes_. The natural conclusion
is that the name _Lenaion_ is applicable to the place where the contests
actually took place, namely to the ancient Orchestra and perhaps its
immediate neighbourhood. The district of the wine-presses naturally had
its dancing place, and that dancing place was called the Lenaion. To this
day the peasants of Greece use for their festival-dances the village
threshing-floor.
* * * * *
In the theatre of Eleuthereus Dr Dörpfeld[221] has given back to us
the old orchestra. He has shown us deep down below the successive
Graeco-Roman and Roman stages the old circular orchestra built of
polygonal masonry (Fig. 16). On this old orchestra, with only wooden
seats for the spectators, were acted, we now know, the dramas of
Aeschylus, Sophocles, Euripides, nay tradition[222] even says, and we
have no cause to doubt its veracity, that Thespis was the first (in 586
B.C.) to exhibit a play in the ‘city’ contest (ἐν ἄστει).
But ancient though it was, before it, as we have seen, came the orchestra
in the Limnae. Dr Dörpfeld had hoped that his excavations would give back
this orchestra too; this hope has not been fulfilled. Traces have been
found of a circular structure on the South slope of the Areopagus and are
marked on the plan (Fig. 46), but they are of uncertain date, and, if
they mark the site of any ancient building, it is probably that of the
Odeion of Agrippa. The old orchestra lay at the North-West corner of the
Areopagos.
* * * * *
Tradition records the beginning of the contests ‘in the city,’ i.e. in
the theatre of Eleuthereus, but the beginnings of the other festivals,
the Lenaia and the Chytroi, held in the Limnae, are lost in the mists
before. The two are in all probability but different names for the same
festival, or rather the Chytroi is the whole ceremony of the third day
of the Anthesteria and Lenaia the name given to the dramatic part of the
ceremonies. But though we do not know the beginning, and though, as will
presently be seen, the ‘Pot-Contests’ went back in all probability to a
time before the coming of Dionysos, we have hints as to how the end came,
how the splendour and convenience of the great theatre of Eleuthereus
gradually obscured and absorbed the primitive contests of the orchestra
in the Limnae.
It was, we know, the great statesman Lycurgus who, in the 4th century
B.C., built the first permanent stone stage in the theatre and made the
seats for the spectators as we see them now. So pleased was he, it would
seem, with his theatre that he thought it useless and senseless to have
plays acted elsewhere. Accordingly in the _Lives of the Ten Orators_[223]
we learn that Lycurgus introduced laws, and among them one about comic
writers ‘to hold a performance at the Chytroi, a competitive one, in the
theatre,’ and ‘to record the victor as a victor in the city,’ which had
formerly not been allowed. He thus revived the performance which had
fallen into disuse.
Lycurgus meant well we may be sure, but he was a Butad[224], he ought to
have known better than to pluck up an old festival by the roots like that
and think to foster it by transplantation. The end was certain; the old
precinct, deserted by its festivals, was bit by bit forgotten, overgrown,
and at last in part built over by the new Iobakchoi.
* * * * *
The precinct had lost prestige by the time of Pausanias[225]. Had the
temple of Dionysos-in-the-Marshes been above ground he would assuredly
not have passed it by. Near to where the precinct once was he saw a
building, a circular or semi-circular one, which may have been a last
Roman reminiscence of the orchestra, and still of note though it did not
occupy the same site; he notes ‘a theatre which they call the Odeion.’ It
is probable that this was the theatre built by Agrippa and mentioned by
Philostratos[226] as ‘the theatre in the Kerameikos, which goes by the
name of the Agrippeion.’
* * * * *
Before leaving the sanctuary in-the-Marshes, a word must be said as to
the Anthesteria or, as Thucydides calls it, ‘the more ancient Dionysiac
Festival.’ I have tried elsewhere[227] to show in detail that the
Dionysiac element in the Anthesteria was only a thin upper layer beneath
which lay a ritual of immemorial antiquity, which had for its object the
promotion of fertility by means of the placation of ghosts or heroes. On
the first day, if I am right, the _Pithoigia_ was an Opening not only
of wine-jars but of grave-jars; the second, the _Choes_, was a feast
not only of Cups but of Libations (χοαί); the third, the _Chytroi_, not
only a Pot-feast, but a feast of Holes in the ground and of the solemn
dismissal of Keres back to the lower world. That the collective name
of the whole feast _Anthesteria_ did not primarily mean the festival
of those who ‘did the flowers,’ but rather of those who ‘revoked the
ghosts[228].’
But in trying to distinguish the two strata, the under stratum of
ghosts, the upper of Dionysos, I never doubted that the Pot Contest on
the day of the _Chytroi_ belonged to Dionysos. Dionysos and the ‘origin
of the drama’ are canonically connected. It has remained, therefore,
something of a mystery how Dionysos, late-comer as he was, contrived to
possess himself of the ancient ghost-festival and impose his dramatic
contests on a ritual substratum apparently so uncongenial. Religions are
accommodating enough, but some sort of analogy or possible bridge from
one to the other is necessary for affiliation.
The difficulty disappears at once if we accept Professor Ridgeway’s[229]
recent theory as to the origin of tragedy. The drama according to him
is not ‘Dorian,’ and, save for the one element of the Satyric play, not
Dionysiac. It took its rise in mimetic dances at the tombs of local
heroes. When Dionysos came to Athens with his Satyr attendants he would
find the Pot-Contests as part of the funeral ritual of the Anthesteria.
He added to the festival wine and the Satyrs. Small wonder that comedy,
as in the _Frogs_, was at home in the Underworld, and could in all piety
parody a funeral[230] on the stage.
* * * * *
Thucydides has given us four examples of sanctuaries outside the _polis_
which are ‘towards that part’ of it, but again, as in the first clause,
he seems to feel that if he has spoken the truth it is not the whole
truth, so he saves himself from misunderstanding by an additional clause,
‘_and other ancient sanctuaries are placed here_.’
It would be idle to try and give a complete list of all the sanctuaries
that were situated in this particular region, still more idle to decide
of what particular sanctuaries Thucydides was thinking. The precinct of
Aglauros and the Anakeion on the North side, the sanctuary of the Semnae
and the Amyneion on the West, the sanctuary of Aphrodite Pandemos and
that of Themis on the West and South-West are all ‘towards’ the approach.
Three out of these, the Amyneion, the sanctuary of the Semnae, and the
sanctuary of Aphrodite Pandemos, are of such interest in themselves and
so essential to the forming of a picture of the sanctities of ancient
Athens that a word must be said of each.
* * * * *
_The Amyneion._ The Amyneion, or sanctuary of Amynos[231], is known to
us only through monumental evidence, brought to light in the recent
excavations. Its discovery is one of the things that make us feel
suddenly how much of popular faith we, relying as we must almost wholly
on literature, may have utterly lost.
[Illustration: FIG. 30.]
If after leaving the precinct of Dionysos in-the-Marshes we follow the
main road for about 35 metres, we come on a precinct (Fig. 30) of much
smaller size and of quadrangular shape, which abuts on the road and along
the North side of which a narrow foot-path leads up to the Acropolis. The
precinct-walls are of hard blue calcareous stone from the Acropolis and
neighbouring hills, and the masonry is good polygonal. The entrance-gate
(A), which has been rebuilt in Roman times, is at the North-West corner.
A little to the East of the middle of the precinct, and manifestly of
great importance, is a well (B). The natural supply of this well was
reinforced by a conduit-pipe, which leads direct into it from the great
water-course of Peisistratos, which will later (p. 119) be described.
Near the well are remains of a small hero-chapel, and within this was
found the lower part of a marble sacrificial table (C), decorated with
two snakes. The masonry of the precinct wall, the well, and the shrine
all point to a date at the time of Peisistratos. Even before the limits
of this precinct were fairly made out the excavators came upon a number
of fragments of votive offerings of a familiar type. Such are reliefs
representing parts of the human body, breasts and the like, votive
snakes, and reliefs representing worshippers approaching a god of the
usual Asklepios type. Conspicuous among these was a fine well-preserved
relief (Fig. 31), depicting a man holding a huge leg, very clearly
marked with a varicose vein, exactly where, doctors say, a varicose
vein should be. The inscription[232] above the figure is unfortunately
so effaced that no facts emerge save that the dedicator, the man who
holds the leg, was the son of a certain Lysimachos, and was of the
deme Acharnae. The style of the letters and of the sculpture dates the
monument as of about the first half of the 4th century B.C. It was clear
enough that the excavators had come on the precinct of a god of healing,
and a few decades ago the precinct would have been labelled without more
ado as ‘sacred to Asklepios.’ We should then have been left with the
curious problem, Why had Asklepios two precincts, one on the South, one
on the West? We know that Asklepios made his triumphant entry into the
great precinct on the South slope in 421 B.C.; if he had had a precinct
on the West slope since the days of Peisistratos, why did he leave it?
[Illustration: FIG. 31.]
[Illustration: FIG. 32.]
But now-a-days in the matter of ascription we proceed more cautiously.
We know that votive-reliefs of the ‘Asklepios’ type are offered to
almost any local hero, that local heroes anywhere and everywhere are
hero-healers[233]. Hence local hero-healers were gradually absorbed and
effaced by the most successful of their number, Asklepios. In literature
we hear little of the hero-cult of an Amphiaraos, but his local shrine
went on down to late days at Oropus. Fortunately in our precinct we have
inscriptions that leave us no doubt. On a stele[234] (Fig. 32) found
there we have an inscription as follows: ‘Mnesiptolemè on behalf of
Dikaiophanes dedicated (this) to Asklepios Amynos.’
At first we seem no further; we have the familiar Asklepios
worshipped under the title of Amynos, Protector, Defender. A second
inscription[235], however, makes it certain that _Amynos_ is not merely
an adjective attached to Asklepios, but the cultus title of a person
separate from Asklepios. This inscription, of the latter half of the 4th
century B.C., is in honour of certain persons who had been benefactors of
the _thiasos_ (ὀργεῶνες) of _Amynos and of Asklepios and of Dexion_. We
know who Dexion was; he was Sophocles, heroized, and he, the mortal, came
last on the list. Sophocles had a shrine apart, or it may be a separate
shrine within the larger one. The same inscription[236] goes on to order
that the honorary decree was to be ‘engraved on two stone stelae, and
these to be set up, the one in the sanctuary of Dexion, the other in that
of Amynos and Asklepios.’
Sophocles[237] though, to us, he is first in remembrance, comes last in
ritual precedence; Amynos is first. The history of the little shrine is
instructive. Not later than Peisistratos, and how much earlier we do not
know, the worship was set up of a local hero with the title Protector,
_Amynos_. At some time or other, perhaps shortly after the pestilence at
Athens, which the local Protector had been powerless to avert, it was
thought well to call in a greater Healer-Hero, Asklepios, who meanwhile
had attained in the Peloponnesos to enormous prestige. The experiment was
tried carefully and quietly in the little precinct. Amynos kept his own
precedence. No one’s feelings are hurt; the snake of the Peloponnesos is
merely affiliated to the local Athenian hero-snake, the same offerings
are due to both, the _pelanoi_, the votive limbs. But the new-comer is
too strong; Asklepios waxes, Amynos wanes—into an adjective. Asklepios
outgrows the little precinct and betakes himself to a new and grander
sanctuary on the South slope.
The precinct and worship of Amynos, though it has no mention in
literature, is preserved to us perhaps through its association with the
dominant worship of Asklepios; but Amynos was probably only one among
many heroes who had their chapels and their family worships scattered
along the main road of the city where countless little buildings remain
unidentified (Fig. 35). If the supposition suggested above (p. 99) be
correct these local heroes must have had choral dances about their
tombs, those choral dances affiliated by the late-comer Dionysos, and
ultimately leading to the development of the drama. At the festival of
the Anthesteria these local ghosts would be summoned from their tombs on
the day of the Pithoigia; on the day of the Chytroi they would be fed and
their descendants would hold a wake with revels and dancings.
* * * * *
_The Sanctuary of the Semnae Theai or Venerable Goddesses._ The site of
this sanctuary is practically certain. Euripides[238] in the _Electra_
makes the Erinyes, when they are about to become Semnae, descend into a
chasm of the earth near to the Areopagos. Near to the Areopagos there is
one chasm and one only, that is the deep fissure on the North-East side,
the spot where tradition has long placed the cave of the Semnae[239].
A cave they needed, for they were under-world goddesses. Their ritual
I have discussed in detail elsewhere[240]; here it need only be noted
that it was of great antiquity and had all the characteristic marks of a
chthonic cult. As under-world goddesses the Venerable Ones bore the title
also of _Arai_, Imprecations; they were for cursing as well as blessing;
the hill it is now generally acknowledged took its name from them rather
than from the war-god Ares. Orestes it will be remembered[241] came
to the Areopagos to be purified from his mother’s blood, and he found
the people celebrating the Choes; he found them, if our topography be
correct, close by, in the precinct of Dionysos-in-the-Marshes.
* * * * *
_The Sanctuary of Aphrodite Pandemos._ Harpocration[242] in explaining
the title _Pandemos_ tells us that Apollodorus in the sixth book of his
treatise _About the Gods_ said that this was ‘the name given at Athens
to the goddess whose worship had been established somewhere near the
ancient agora.’ His conjecture that the goddess was called Pandemos
because all the people collected in the agora need not detain us, but
the topographical statement coming from an author who knew his subject
like Apollodorus, is important. We have to seek the sanctuary of Pandemos
somewhere on or close to the West slope of the Acropolis, somewhere near
the great square which as we shall see (p. 131) stood in front of the
ancient well-house and formed the ancient agora.
Pausanias[243] mentions the worship of Aphrodite Pandemos in a sentence
of the most tantalizing vagueness. After leaving the Asklepieion he
notes a temple of Themis and in front of it a monument to Hippolytus.
He then tells at length the story of Phaedra and next goes on ‘When
Theseus united the various Athenian demes into one people he introduced
the worship of Aphrodite Pandemos and Peitho. The old images were not
there in my time, but those I saw were the work of no obscure artists.’
Immediately after he passes to the sanctuary of Ge Kourotrophos and
Demeter Chloe and then straight to the citadel.
Of the actual sanctuary of Aphrodite Pandemos not a trace has been
found. From the account of Pausanias coupled with that of Harpocration
we should expect it to be somewhere below the sanctuary of Ge and above
the fountain Enneakrounos, near which was the ancient agora, and of
course outside the Pelargikon. When the West slope of the Acropolis
was excavated[244] in the upper layers of earth about 40 statuettes of
Aphrodite were found, and these must have belonged to the sanctuary.
Inscriptions[245] relating to her worship were found built into a
mediaeval fortification wall near Beule’s Gate. These, as not being
_in situ_, cannot be used as topographical evidence, but they give us
important information as to the character of the worship of Pandemos.
The first[246] of these inscriptions (Fig. 33) dates about the beginning
of the fifth century B.C. ‘[...]dorus dedicated me to Aphrodite a gift
of first fruits, Lady do thou grant him abundance of good things. But
they who unrighteously say false things and....’ Unfortunately here the
inscription breaks off so the scandal will remain for ever a secret.
Aphrodite, it is to be noted, is prayed to as a giver of increase. She
does not seem yet to have got her title of Pandemos, but as this occurs
in the two other inscriptions found with this one, and they probably all
three came from the same sanctuary, this Aphrodite is almost certainly
she who became Pandemos.
[Illustration: FIG. 33.]
[Illustration: FIG. 34.]
The second inscription (Fig. 34), dating about the middle of the 4th
century B.C., is carved on an architrave adorned with a frieze of doves
carrying a fillet. The architrave is broken midway. Only the left-hand
half is represented in the figure. This inscription[247] again is partly
metrical, forming an elegiac couplet.
‘This for thee, O great and holy Pandemos Aphr[odite,
We adorn with gifts, our statues.’
Beneath in prose and in smaller letters come the names of the dedicators.
Pandemos is here quite plainly the official title of the goddess.
The third and latest inscription[248] is carved on a stele of Hymettus
marble. It is exactly dated (283 B.C.) by the archon’s name, the elder
Euthios. It records a decree made while a woman called Hegesipyle was
priestess. The decree, which is too long to be here quoted in full,
ordains that the _astynomoi_ should at the time of the procession in
honour of Aphrodite Pandemos ‘provide a dove for the purification of the
temple, should have the altars anointed, should give a coat of pitch to
the roof and wash the statues and prepare a purple robe.’
Aphrodite Pandemos was a ‘great and holy goddess,’ giver of increase. She
was no private divinity of the courtesan; the second inscription tells
us that she was worshipped by a married woman, who is her priestess. It
is literature and not ritual that has cast a slur on the title Pandemos;
the state honoured both her and Ourania alike ‘according to ancestral
custom.’ Plato[249] in his beautiful reckless way will have it that
because there are two Loves there are two Goddesses, ‘the elder one
having no mother, who is the Heavenly Aphrodite, the daughter of Ouranos;
to her we give the title Ourania, the younger, who is the daughter of
Zeus and Dione, and her we call “Of-all-the-People,” Pandemos.’
The real truth was that Aphrodite came to the Greeks from the East and
like most Semitic divinities she was not only a duality but a trinity.
When Pausanias[250] was at Thebes he saw the images of this ancient
Oriental trinity and he knew whence they had come. ‘There are wooden
images of Aphrodite at Thebes so ancient that it is said they were
dedicated by Harmonia and that they were made out of the wooden
figure-heads of the ships of Cadmus. One of them is called Heavenly,
another Of-all-the-People, and the third the Turner-Away.’ The threefold
Aphrodite came from the Semitic East bearing three Semitic titles: she
was the Queen of Heaven[251], she was the Lady of all the People, Ourania
and Pandemos, what the third title was which the Greeks translated into
Apostrophia we do not know; as already noted it took slight hold. At
Megalopolis[252] we see how the third title of the trinity faded. There
close to the house where was an image of Ammon made like a Herm and
with the horns of a ram, there—significant conjunction—was a sanctuary
of Aphrodite in ruins, with the front part only left and it had three
images, ‘one named Ourania the other Pandemos, _the third had no
particular name_.’ So it was that the Greeks lost the trinity and kept,
all they needed, the duality.
The Greeks themselves always knew quite well whence came their Heavenly
Aphrodite, she of Paphos, and she of Kythera. Herodotus[253] is
explicit. He is telling how some of the Scythians in their passage
through Palestine from Egypt pillaged the sanctuary of Aphrodite
Ourania at Ascalon. ‘This sanctuary,’ he says, ‘I found on enquiry is
the most ancient of all those that are dedicated to this goddess, for
the sanctuary in Cyprus had its origin from thence, as the Cyprians
themselves say, and that in Kythera was founded by Phenicians who came
from this part of Syria.’ Pausanias[254] says ‘the first to worship
Ourania were the Assyrians, next to them were the dwellers in Paphos of
Cyprus, and the Phenicians of Ascalon in Palestine. And the inhabitants
of Kythera learnt the worship from the Phenicians.’
The Oriental origin[255] of Ourania, Queen of Heaven, the armed goddess,
the _Virgo Caelestis_, was patent to all; but Aphrodite in her more human
earthly aspect, as Pandemos, goddess of the people and of all increase,
was so like Kourotrophos, like Demeter, that she might easily be thought
of as indigenous. Yet her ritual betrays her. For the purification of
her sanctuary we have seen there was ordered a dove. Instinctively we
remember that when Mary Virgin[256] went up to the temple of Jerusalem
for her purification she must take with her ‘a pair of turtle-doves
or two young pigeons.’ In the statuettes of Paphos, Aphrodite holds a
dove in her hand; the coins of Salamis in Cyprus are stamped with the
dove[257]. At the Phenician Eryx when the festival of the Anagogia[258]
came round, and Aphrodite Astarte went back to her home in Libya, the
doves went with her, and when they came back at the _Katagogia_, a white
multitude, among them was one with feathers of red gold, and she was
Aphrodite.
CHAPTER IV.
THE SPRING KALLIRRHOË-ENNEAKROUNOS ‘NEAR’ THE CITADEL.
καὶ τῇ κρήνῃ τῇ νῦν μὲν τῶν τυράννων οὕτω σκευασάντων
Ἐννεακρούνῳ καλουμένῃ, τὸ δὲ πάλαι φανερῶν τῶν πηγῶν οὐσῶν
Καλλιῤῥόῃ ὠνομασμένῃ—ἐκείνῃ τε ἐγγὺς οὔσῃ τὰ πλείστου ἄξια
ἐχρῶντο, καὶ νῦν ἔτι ἀπὸ τοῦ ἀρχαίου πρό τε γαμικῶν καὶ ἐς ἄλλα
τῶν ἱερῶν νομίζεται τῷ ὕδατι χρῆσθαι.
The argument now stands as follows. As evidence that the old city was
_the present citadel with the addition of what is below it towards about
South_ Thucydides has adduced two facts: 1st, that _the sanctuaries
are in the citadel, those of other deities as well (as the Goddess)_;
2nd, that _those that are outside are placed towards this part of the
city more (than elsewhere)_. Instances of such outside shrines are _the
sanctuary of Zeus Olympios and the Pythion, and the sanctuary of Ge,
and that of Dionysos-in-the-Marshes_. This last is defined, to prevent
confusion with the later sanctuary of Dionysos Eleuthereus, as the scene
of the earlier Dionysia. Finally, _other ancient sanctuaries also_ (not
named) are placed here.
We next come to the third fact adduced as evidence, namely, a statement
as to the position of the ancient city spring, as follows: ‘_And the
spring which is now called “Nine-Spouts,” from the form given it by
the despots, but which formerly, when the sources were open, was named
Fair-Fount—this spring_ (I say) _being near, they used for the most
important purposes, and even now it is still the custom in consequence
of the ancient_ (habit) _to use the water before weddings and for
other sacred purposes_.’ Was ever argument stated in fashion more odd,
involved, and utterly Thucydidean?
A spring which was once called Kallirrhoë and now Enneakrounos is ‘near,’
_i.e._ is near the ancient city as above defined, and is now used for
weddings and the like. Why does Thucydides, who is ‘least of all
mortals a gossip,’ tell us about the water and the weddings? Why refer
to the history of the fountain at all? Because, as in the case of the
Anthesteria, the reference to things ancient is part of his argument.
The train of thought is this. The water of Nine-Spouts is now used for
weddings. Why? On the face of it there seems no particular reason. The
fountain ‘Nine-Spouts’ has water enough and to spare. But the fountain
‘Nine-Spouts’ was not always there, it replaced ‘Fair-Fount,’ and this
spring the ancient Athenians used only for ‘most important’ purposes.
Again, why? Well, clearly because there was not enough of it for general
use. It was ‘near,’ and yet they reserved it for special purposes. We
may gather, then, from the account of Thucydides, though he does not
expressly state it, the despots not only changed the name but increased
the ‘water supply[259].’
As to where the spring was, save that it is ‘near,’ Thucydides says
absolutely nothing. It might be North, East, South, or West. We who
have followed him step by step down the western slope, from the
Olympieion and Pythion to the sanctuary of Ge and to the sanctuary of
Dionysos-in-the-Marshes, expect to find ‘Nine-Spouts’ somewhere near
these sites, somewhere in the depression enclosed by Acropolis, Pnyx,
and Areopagos. But we must bear in mind that this expectation is based
on _our_ identification of the previous sanctuaries, not on any words of
Thucydides about the spring.
But when we ask, as we inevitably must, where did _Pausanias_ see the
famous fountain, we are in better case. Pausanias[260] saw ‘Nine-Spouts’
near to the Odeion, and the Odeion he saw immediately after the statues
of Harmodios and Aristogeiton, on the slope of the Areopagos. Immediately
after the Enneakrounos, ‘beyond the fountain,’ as he says, Pausanias[261]
saw the temples of Demeter and Kore, which can scarcely be separated
from the Thesmophorion on the Pnyx. Somewhere adjacent to both Pnyx and
Areopagos we should, from Pausanias, expect to find ‘Nine-Spouts,’ and
there find it we shall.
* * * * *
It is fortunate for us that Thucydides was so explicit about the
fountain. He gives us not merely a fountain called Fair-Fount but a
fountain called Fair-Fount that was turned into Nine-Spouts. This is
fortunate, because the word translated ‘Fair-Fount,’ _Kallirrhoë_, is
a term so general that it might be applied to almost any spring. If in
travelling through Greece to-day you stop to drink from a spring and
ask your guide its name, he will, three times out of four, tell you it
is _Mavromati_, _Black-Eye_, because that is a term so general as to be
safely applicable. So at Athens there was, certainly in later days and
possibly even in the time of Thucydides, another Kallirrhoë far away on
the Ilissus. As Socrates, in the _Axiochos_[262], was going out towards
Kynosarges and had reached the Ilissos he heard some one shouting to
him, and turning round he saw Kleinias running towards Kallirrhoë.
Clearly this was another Kallirrhoë, not the one near the Pnyx. How
this duplication of Kallirrhoës at Athens arose will later (p. 143) be
considered. The Kallirrhoë we are in search of is the Fair-Fount _which
became the Nine-Spouts_, that and no other.
It is worth noticing how quickly the spring lost its old name. People
were, no doubt, very proud of the new _Nine-Spouts_. Herodotus[263]
naively assumes that in the days of the Pelasgians _Fair-Fount_ was
called _Nine-Spouts_. The Athenians said that their expulsion of the
Pelasgians from Attica was justified, for ‘the Pelasgians who were
settled under Hymettus used to make excursions thence and do lawless
deeds. Their daughters used constantly to go to the Enneakrounos for
water, for at that time the Greeks had no household servants, and
whenever they came the Pelasgians used to offer them violence out of
insolence and contempt.’ There must have been people alive in the days of
Thucydides whose fathers remembered the change made by the despots, yet
the name _Fair-Fount_ was, when Thucydides wrote, evidently a matter of
antiquarian knowledge.
* * * * *
The question now before us is, Have we evidence that a spring, naturally
small but reinforced and rearranged at the time of the despots, existed
in the district enclosed by the Pnyx, Areopagos, and Acropolis? A
glance at the plan in Fig. 35 will show that such evidence does indeed
exist. In the Pnyx rock at the point marked Y is the spring Kallirrhoë,
Fair-Fount. It has been reinforced by water from the district of the
Ilissus, brought in the conduit of Peisistratos. In front of the ancient
Kallirrhoë once stood a Fountain-House, also of the date of the despots,
the Fountain-House called Nine-Spouts, Enneakrounos.
The evidence for this threefold statement must be examined in detail. But
first a word must be said as to the geological conditions of the site so
far as they bear on the water-supply of Athens.
* * * * *
For her water-supply, and especially for her drinking water, Athens
depends, has always depended, not on her rivers but her wells. In
describing the Enneakrounos Pausanias[264] says, ‘There are wells
throughout all the city, but this is the only spring.’ His statement
as regards the spring is not strictly correct. Besides Kallirrhoë the
ancient city possessed two natural springs, and these both on the
Acropolis itself, the Klepsydra at the North-West corner and the spring
in the precinct of Asklepios on the South slope. About the wells he is
right. The plain on which Athens stood was, owing to its geological
structure, amply supplied with wells. Its uppermost stratum is of
calcareous stone, the material of which the hills of Lykabettos, of the
Mouseion, and the Acropolis are all formed. Through this stratum rain can
freely filter. But beneath this calcareous layer is a second stratum of
slate and marl; this is practically impermeable, and here water collects
into wells.
[Illustration: FIG. 35.]
Wells, then, occur sporadically all over Athens and the Athenian plain,
but nowhere in such abundance as in the district under discussion[265].
The Pnyx and the Mouseion on the one side, the Areopagos and Acropolis
on the other form, as will readily be seen by reference to Fig. 46, a
sort of trough, in which both rain and subterranean water are caught and
must necessarily accumulate. As the ground slopes towards the North and
the West the water accumulated cannot make its way towards the Ilissos.
Its only outlet is the narrow and inadequate passage between the Pnyx
and the Areopagos to the Eridanos. It is not surprising that, though
the district lies high above the bed of the Eridanos, it was somewhat
marshy. That its watery character was early turned to account and led
to a dense population is shown by the fact that no less than 100 wells
have been sunk within its narrow limits. These wells will be seen dotted
about all over the plan in Fig. 35. These wells for subterranean water
are frequently reinforced by cisterns for collecting rain-water. The
cisterns are easily distinguished from the wells by the fact that they
are lined with cement. Sometimes an old well which has presumably run dry
has been turned by a coat of cement into a cistern. It is very remarkable
that, long before the days of Peisistratos, elaborate systems existed for
collecting water, in wells, cisterns, and conduits; one canal extended
as far as the Odeion of Herodes Atticus, and followed a course almost
coincident with that of Peisistratos, which it long preceded. Its complex
of wells is clearly seen at T in Fig. 35, a little to the North of the
‘Branch Conduit to Koile.’
It is beside our purpose to examine in detail the artificial
water-supply[266] of the district before the time of Peisistratos. That
such a system existed is worth noting, because it shows that the district
is a good site for the _Limnae_, and also that it was from early days
thickly populated.
* * * * *
Our immediate concern, however, is to fix, if possible, the site of
Kallirrhoë. Nor is this difficult. As the traveller goes by the modern
carriage road from the ‘Theseion’ to the Acropolis, and as he nears the
Pnyx he will see on his right a number of rock-chambers and channels cut
in the rock, originally buried out of sight but laid bare by the making
of the modern road. These are shown in Fig. 35 to the right and left
of the spot marked Kallirrhoë, and appear more plainly on the enlarged
plan in Fig. 38, where they are marked r¹-r¹⁰. They are a succession of
rock-hewn wells and cisterns and channels, dating from early Greek to
Roman times. Their number is additional evidence that the rock of the
Pnyx had a regular system for collecting water, but of the series two
only concern us, those marked r⁶ and r⁷.
An enlarged plan of the wells r⁶ and r⁷, with their connecting passages
and chambers, is given in Fig. 36. A detailed description of it is
important, because these chambers, recognized as forming the ancient
Kallirrhoë, are now closed to the public by a locked gate, behind which
few visitors to Athens penetrate.
[Illustration: FIG. 36.]
A narrow stairway, a-b, leads into a chamber (Y) hewn in the heart of
the rock. This chamber is about 4 metres square, and has an arched roof.
Immediately opposite the entrance to Y, in the Western wall, a niche 1·80
m. deep has been cut (C). In this niche the shaft of a well (r⁷) has
been sunk 2 metres deep. This is clearly shown in section in Fig. 43.
In front of the well was a barrier, so that water could be drawn without
fear of falling in. Over the well, about 0·80 metre above the pavement,
was a small niche, which may have held an image. From the entrance
of the chamber Y, about 1·30 metres high from the ground, there is a
channel, n-p, worked in the rock. It has a slight inclination towards the
niche C, and was obviously meant to collect the water that oozed from
the vaulted roof and the walls. Later it was used as a conduit for the
new water-supply brought by Peisistratos. Remains of a lead pipe and a
terra-cotta conduit were found at m.
For,—doubt is impossible,—we have here in the niche at C the ancient
Kallirrhoë. The large rock chamber Y marks it out from the other wells.
Its importance down to Roman times is shown by the fact that the chamber
Y is paved with a rich mosaic, the patterns of which are like those made
elsewhere in Athens in the time of Hadrian. The ancient well must have
kept its sanctity, otherwise it would not have been so adorned. After
the well had run dry, and when the water-supply was purely artificial,
the walls and ceiling were carefully cemented and the cement was later
renewed. Such a coating would of course have been impossible when the
roof and walls were dripping with natural water.
At the right hand of the entrance to Y was a passage, e-f, leading down
by steps into a large elliptical chamber, r⁶. This chamber, presumably a
cistern, was paved in Roman days with marble slabs, but below the marble
pavement is a stucco pavement of Greek date. From this cistern leads a
channel, i, which may have led to the well-house of Peisistratos, or, as
suggested in the restoration (Fig. 43), to a smaller subordinate fountain.
The supply of water at Kallirrhoë was slender. We have seen that efforts
were made to reinforce it by well-sinking, by conduits, by cisterns. But,
though the Athenians found the water of Kallirrhoë adequate for their
ritual baths, they had other needs, and, as the city grew and grew, the
effort to cope locally with the increasing demand proved futile. There
was a crying need for water from a distance, a great popular need such
as the despots loved to supply. Water was needed, and water was brought
in a supply practically inexhaustible, from the district of the upper
Ilissos.
* * * * *
By a happy chance in the history of excavations, long before the search
for the aqueduct of the despots began, another aqueduct, the work of
another despot, had been brought to light—the aqueduct that Polycrates
made for the Samians. At the close of his account of Polycrates,
Herodotus[267] tells us he had lingered long over the affairs of the
Samians ‘because they possessed three of the most wonderful works ever
accomplished by the Greeks.’ The first and the only one of these wonders
that concerns us was a great aqueduct bored through a mountain 150
fathoms high. The length of the tunnel, he goes on to say, was seven
stadia, the height and the breadth eight feet each way. Through this
tunnel there went a second passage, 20 cubits deep by three feet wide,
through which the water is carried along in tiled pipes from a great
spring to the city of Samos. The architect of this tunnel was a Megarean,
Eupalinos, son of Naustrophos.
Possibly, _pace_ Herodotus, even if the Samians had had no aqueduct he
would anyhow have told us the story of the ring; be that as it may,
his account of the first wonder, the aqueduct, is invaluable, and has
been fully substantiated. Never was a town by nature worse off for its
water-supply than Samos, and rarely has one been supplied by a more
astonishing piece of engineering. The ‘great spring’ Hagniades has been
found[268], the tunnel with its double channel, even the very earthenware
pipes laid down by Eupalinos. We know perfectly well what to expect in an
aqueduct made by the despots.
The excavators naturally sought for the conduit of Peisistratos in the
immediate neighbourhood of Kallirrhoë, and there, close up to the Pnyx
rock, they found it, at a distance of about 40 metres from the rock
chamber Y. From that point up to the South of the Odeion of Herodes
Atticus its course has been completely excavated. It is best seen in
Professor Dörpfeld’s official plan (Fig. 46). Just South of the Odeion
the conduit could not be cleared out, because of its damaged condition
and the mass of _débris_ that had fallen over it. Between the Odeion and
the Dionysiac theatre it runs beneath an ancient road, and passes within
the precinct of Dionysos, between the earlier and later temples. Beyond
that point its course has not been excavated in detail, but beneath the
modern Russian church a conduit passes which must be its continuation,
and this leads on to the water-course[269] discovered long ago, now
utilized for watering the Royal Gardens. This water is known to come from
the upper valley of the Ilissus (Fig. 49).
The main conduit ran, then, from the upper valley of the Ilissus to the
great reservoir basin marked on the plan in Fig. 35, but from this main
conduit several branches can be traced; the most important are the branch
tunnel that leads to the district of Koile and a smaller branch that goes
off to water the Amyneion. Other ramifications can be traced, the object
of which is not always clear; they probably occur at points where in
piercing the tunnel veins of water were reached, and some served to bring
to the main conduit subsidiary supplies from the Hill of the Muses and
from the Acropolis.
Only those, as Professor Dörpfeld[270] himself remarks, who have taken
the trouble to get right down into the tunnellings and cross tunnellings
and explore them thoroughly so far as they can be explored, can form any
idea of the magnitude of the work. Sometimes it is possible to stand
upright in the conduit, some portions can only be reached on the hands
and knees. The fact is borne in upon any one and every one who has made
even a brief exploration, he feels himself unquestionably exploring what
must have been the main artificial water-supply of ancient Athens, and
here, if such a supply were needed, must have been the centre of the
ancient city life.
The aqueduct is dated securely by comparison with the work of Eupalinos
at Samos as of the time of the despots. Two striking analogies are
observable between the aqueduct of Peisistratos at Athens and that of
Polycrates at Samos. These are the character of the pipes, and the system
of shafts. The separate pieces of the pipes at Athens are from 0·60 m.
to 0·61 in length, not counting the junction points. They are made of
fine yellowish clay; inside they are protected by a red glaze, outside
they are left rough, except that at each end they are glazed and have a
double stripe of glaze round the middle and round each end. In length and
diameter they correspond with the Samos pipes, which Professor Dörpfeld
carefully inspected for comparison[271]. The Samos pipes also are
actually decorated with stripes, only the stripes at Samos are incised,
those at Athens painted.
The same correspondence is notable in the way the pipes are joined
together: both at Athens and Samos the pipes are soldered together
with lead, and provision is made at both places for cleaning them. An
elliptical shaped hole large enough to admit the hand is left, and is
provided with a cover. A specimen of the Athenian pipes is shown in Fig.
37, and side by side with it a section of the conduit with the pipe in
position.
[Illustration: FIG. 37.]
The pipes bear abundant traces of long use and frequent repair. In quite
early days they seem to have got crusted with lime deposit from the
water, and in some cases quite choked up, the water then flowed over
the pipes and flooded the main channel to two-thirds of its height. In
some places, where the rock was soft, it seems to have got worn away and
fallen in, and portions of the tunnel became useless. New borings were
made for about 30 metres and new pipes put in; these were quadrangular
instead of round, but in the disused portion of the tunnel the old round
pipes still lie about.
Secondly, as at Samos, at intervals of from 30 to 40 metres, both tunnels
alike are provided with shafts, which served when the tunnels were first
made for the clearing away of the rock fragments, and which were made use
of for the like purpose when the conduit was excavated. These shafts are
sunk perpendicularly; one of them reached down to a depth of 12 metres,
so low does the conduit in places lie.
* * * * *
Of cardinal importance to us is the point at which the conduit debouches,
because near to that point we may hope to find the fountain-house
‘Nine-Spouts.’ The conduit ends in an arrangement which is somewhat
surprising, and which will be best understood by reference to Fig. 38.
To the extreme left, at a point near letter B, the conduit emerges. It
here consists of a massive channel built of blocks of _poros_ stone,
indicated by the thick black lines on the plan. At point a⁴ it ends in
the Pnyx rock. But, and this is the odd thing, at a³, about eight metres
before the channel ends, a pipe issues from the stone channel and running
parallel to the Pnyx rock conducts the water to the main reservoir
(Haupt-Bassin). A similar arrangement has been observed in the aqueduct
at Samos. There, too, the conduit pipe leaves the rock channel before it
ends. It is conjectured[272] that this was a plan intended to mislead an
enemy who might desire to cut off the water-supply.
The conduit actually debouches at a⁵ into the great reservoir from which
the new fountain-house Nine-Spouts must have been fed. Here, at the
reservoir, we find indications of three successive structures. First
a structure of very early date, possibly of the time of Solon. Second
that of Peisistratos. Third a late Roman structure. Of the two earlier
structures no masonry remains, but the position and dimensions can
roughly be made out by markings on the Pnyx rock, out of which the West
side of the basin was hewn. The exact size of the original basin, which
was smaller than the later one, cannot now be determined. In the time of
Peisistratos it was enlarged and deepened; the floor of the basin was
sunk nearly 1·50 metres deeper. The great basin of Peisistratos was lined
with masonry, the blocks of which have now disappeared. In Roman days
the place of the great basin of Peisistratos was taken by a quite small
structure. This change must have taken place before the building of the
late Roman villa which occupied the place where once the ‘Nine-Founts’
stood. When the villa was built the great reservoir had for some time
been disused, and the water from the aqueduct, not being needed on the
spot in any large quantity, was carried by pipes to the lower city to the
North for the supply of the new Roman market-place. These alterations
as to water-supply, it should be noted, are of the first importance in
questions of topography, and change in the direction or the extension of
an aqueduct is naturally the index of a shifting of population.
[Illustration: FIG. 38.]
The restoration by Professor Dörpfeld (Fig. 38) is, it must clearly be
understood, to a large extent conjectural. It must be consulted strictly
in conjunction with the plan in Fig. 35, where the actual remains of
Greek date are clearly marked in solid black lines. So used it can be of
great service in helping us mentally to reconstruct scattered fragments
of masonry that would otherwise be unintelligible.
* * * * *
Some of the details of the restoration have been suggested by the
water-works discovered at Megara, which are in some respects better
preserved than those at Athens. At Megara are extant not only a great
conduit to bring water from a distance but an elaborate arrangement for
utilizing it consisting of a reservoir and a pillared draw-well besides
a fountain house. It is very probable that the works of Theagenes served
as a model to Peisistratos, and therefore before the draw-well and
fountain house of Peisistratos are discussed a word must be said of the
excavations at Megara.
[Illustration: FIG. 39.]
Pausanias[273] begins his account of the city of Megara somewhat abruptly
thus. ‘In the city there is a fountain. And Theagenes built it for them.
About him I have already mentioned that he gave his daughter in marriage
to Kylon the Athenian. This Theagenes, having possessed himself of the
tyranny, built the fountain, and from its size, its decorations, and
the number of its columns, it is worth looking at. Water flows into it
called the water of the Sithnidian nymphs.’ After the excavations at
Athens, the fountain or, as perhaps it is best called, the well-house
of Theagenes at Megara was sought and found[274] at the bottom of the
Eastern Acropolis of Megara, called Karia. The aqueduct leading to the
reservoir was excavated for a considerable distance, and proved to be a
structure closely resembling those found at Athens and Samos. Eupalinos
it will be remembered was a native of Megara. The draw-well, the
supporting walls of which are well preserved, was about 15 by 20 metres
in size and built of Kara limestone, a material much used in the 6th
century B.C. for the foundations and stylobates of buildings. All round
the side whence water was drawn was a low parapet wall. This wall shows
signs in many places of being worn away by the friction of ropes and
dripping of water. The block shown in Fig. 39 is closely paralleled by
the block found in Athens and placed beneath it for comparison.
Not only, then, at Athens did a despot build a well-house and
artificially increase a supply of holy water. The original spring at
Megara was sacred to the Sithnidian nymphs; we do not know what nymphs
guarded Kallirrhoë at Athens; there were plenty about, for to this day
close at hand is the Hill of the Nymphs. Dionysos who dwelt so near was
called Limnaios, He-of-the-Marshes, Phanodemos[275] says, because he
invented the blending of must with water; hence, he adds, ‘the springs
are called Nymphs and nurses of Dionysos, because water mixed with wine
increases it.’
* * * * *
We return to the water-worn stone, the details of which are shown in
Fig. 40. This stone is of great architectural importance. From it can be
deduced not only the date of the building to which it belonged, but also
something of its dimensions and general appearance. The date is fixed by
the clamp mark at C. The clamp itself has disappeared, but its shape is
proved by the mark of its insertion. Clamps of the [Illustration] shape
only appear at Athens in buildings of about the date of Peisistratos,
e.g. on the earlier temple of Dionysos Eleuthereus. Our stone belonged to
a building of the date of Peisistratos. As regards the character of the
building, it is clear from the curve at e which is a segment of a circle,
that the stone was at this point cut away to receive a pillar. The
unworn condition of the stucco at b leads Professor Dörpfeld to conclude
that the stone was a corner stone, the angle protecting the stucco
from friction. The distance between these two points, e and b, gives
the measurement of the intercolumniations. From this one stone it is
_certain_ that a draw-well of the date of Peisistratos existed and that
it was surmounted by a colonnade. Its appearance must have been somewhat
that of the draw-well (Schoepf-brunnen) restored in Fig. 38. We pass to
the consideration of the fountain house Nine-Spouts.
[Illustration: FIG. 40.]
* * * * *
The great open square marked ‘place of the Enneakrounos’ (Fig. 38) is
really the site of Nine-Spouts. This is clear from many considerations.
1. Nine-Spouts must have stood over or in front of Fair-Fount which it
superseded. Over it would be an impossible situation, because of the
Pnyx rock, so we may securely place it in front. 2. Nine-Founts must
have stood about two metres below the level of the basin, from which it
was fed, in order that the water might flow easily in. 3. At K 2 and K
3 are the beginnings of two ancient subterranean canals which must have
been intended to carry off the superfluous water from Nine-Spouts. 4.
Straight down to this open place comes the footway from the Acropolis
and thither also all the rest of the roads ultimately converge. 5. The
place must have been in Greek times an open place, as no foundations of
Greek buildings have been found, only the remains of a great Roman house,
and under it countless wells.
This Roman house consisted of a large atrium with a peristyle of twelve
columns and several small chambers surrounding it. The walls are a
patchwork of materials of all kinds, and even the bases of the columns
are made up of fragments from other buildings. One of these fragments
belonging to the draw-well we have already discussed, another, we shall
immediately see, belongs to Nine-Spouts itself.
* * * * *
[Illustration: FIG. 41.]
Can we form any mental picture of Nine-Spouts? Fortunately vase-paintings
come to our aid. It is not a little remarkable that in the decoration
of black-figured water-vases (hydriae) of the 6th century B.C., there
appears a sudden fashion in fountain-houses. Of hydriae so decorated the
British Museum contains no less than ten. One of these[276] is reproduced
in Fig. 41. The Fountain-House depicted is of the usual shape, a
tetrastyle Doric portico. The architectural details are very clear, the
triglyphs and guttae standing out in white. In actual architecture they
would both be painted blue. Four maidens are water-drawing. Two of them
are hanging up wreaths. Over three of them their names are inscribed
Iope, Rhodopis, Kleo. But what at once arrests our attention is the
arrangement of the water-spouts. Facing us are three, a lion’s head and
two horsemen, to either side of these is a lion’s head spout; that makes
not a Nine-Spouts but a Five-Spouts. But, drawn in perspective as they
must be, do not the side spouts each represent three? It is at least
probable that we have an arrangement like that restored in Fig. 38, three
spouts facing, and three at each side. Lion-spouts are of course frequent
in Fountain-Houses. The horsemen of our vase are unique; they give the
Fountain-House a dashing despotic air.
[Illustration: FIG. 42.]
We know then just what sort of architectural fragments, we might expect
to find; we can imagine a fragment that would be conclusive. A ‘Doric’
portico might belong to more than one kind of building, a lion’s head
spout could belong only to a Fountain-House. No lion’s head has been
found, but instead, what is as good for our purpose, _a stone hollowed
out for the reception of a lions head_. This stone is shown in Fig. 42.
Not only is the space for the lion’s head evident, but behind is clearly
visible the hole for the pipe. The block is of blue calcareous stone
such as is found both on the Acropolis and the Pnyx. Of exactly the same
limestone is a small remnant of a polygonal wall from the South boundary
of the precinct of the Fountain-House.
The plan in Fig. 38 makes the general disposition of the place of
the Enneakrounos clear, the large reservoir behind (Haupt-Bassin),
immediately in front of it the draw-well (Schoepf-brunnen), and to the
right of the reservoir, and of course equally fed by it, Nine-Spouts
(Lauf-brunnen). In front a great open space. What is matter for
conjecture is the exact site and size of Nine-Spouts. A clear view of
the relation of Nine-Spouts to Fair-Fount is given in the sectional
restoration[277] in Fig. 43. There we see the vaulted rock chamber Y, the
actual well, Kallirrhoë, to which it led, and in front of it, the modern
road intervening, Nine-Spouts or Enneakrounos itself. In front of that
again the open space, possibly once enclosed, was the heart and centre of
the agora.
[Illustration: FIG. 43.]
* * * * *
Before we pass to the question of the agora it may be worth while to
notice that the well-house, Enneakrounos, Nine-Spouts, was known as
late as the seventeenth century to have been on the West slope of
the Acropolis. In the curious old plan, then drawn by Guillet and
Coronelli[278], a portion of which is reproduced in Fig. 44, we have on
the West slope not only a well against which in the key to the plan is
marked ‘Enneakrounos,’ but also close to it the ruins of a small theatre,
which may well stand for the Odeion as seen by Pausanias. In another plan
of the seventeenth century, usually known as the plan of the Capucins,
both theatre and Enneakrounos are missing, and in their place stands the
so-called ‘Theseion.’ On close examination it may be seen that on the
Capucin plan, the theatre, the Enneakrounos, and some other buildings
have been obliterated and other monuments drawn in over them. It may be
taken therefore as certain[279] that, in the seventeenth century, remains
of an ‘Enneakrounos,’ and of a theatre-like building near it, existed.
[Illustration: FIG. 44.]
* * * * *
We have had to reconstruct the _Nine-Spouts_ as best we might from
the analogy of well-houses on vase-paintings, from the remains of the
well-house at Megara, and from a few scattered, though significant
stones. We have also _inferred_ its importance from the vast system of
water-works of which it was the manifest goal. But there is another
witness to its past greatness. It is the place where all ways meet. The
irregular square in front of the well-house Nine-Spouts and in part
occupied by it was manifestly a great centre of the city life. The
complex of ancient roads is best seen in Fig. 46. The great Panathenaic
way passes along its Eastern side, but that is not all. The branch
roads from the Areopagos converge thither. Most important of all for
us, straight down from the Acropolis gate, skirting the Amyneion, there
descends a narrow footway. By this we may be sure the King’s daughters
descended to fetch water from Kallirrhoë.
* * * * *
A word must be said as to the nature and surroundings of the main ancient
road, which topographically is of capital importance. Somewhere along
its course must have lain the ancient Agora. Our first impression is,
unexpectedly, of narrowness, just as it is when we stand on the other
Sacred Way, at Delphi. On the Panathenaic way five persons can only just
stand abreast; the chariots must have gone in single file. It is in fact
a narrow Oriental street. It is bounded on either side by walls of good
polygonal masonry and is hemmed in, as is seen on the map, by houses and
precincts. Beneath the road is an elaborate system of drainage pipes with
shafts by which they could be entered for cleaning purposes. There are of
course many cross-roads, two to the left leading to the Areopagos, one to
the Pnyx, another to Koile. The footway leading straight to the Acropolis
has already been noted.
One of the best preserved portions of the road is that which runs along
by the Western side of the precinct of _Dionysos-in-the-Marshes_. Here
the polygonal walls on both sides are well preserved. Almost opposite the
wine-press we come on buildings which, from inscriptions, can be dated as
of the sixth and fifth centuries B.C. These consist of an open exedra,
quadrangular in shape and of polygonal masonry. Inside this precinct is a
small shrine with no columns, in front of it an altar of _poros_ stone.
Both material and technique point to the sixth century B.C. To whom the
shrine is dedicated is not known. Thucydides could perhaps have told
us. In the course of the century next following the shrine must have
fallen into disuse. As the level of the road rose it would, once disused,
speedily get covered up. That this was actually the case is clearly shown
by the fact that a building of the fourth century B.C. was superimposed.
It extended right back to the Pnyx rock. Two boundary stones of this
later building are still[280] _in situ_ in the wall bordering on the
main road; on each is inscribed ‘Boundary of the Lesche’ (ὅρος λέσχης).
Immediately next to the South comes a building of polygonal limestone
masonry. Two inscriptions show that this building was mortgaged, so it
must have been a private house. Beyond this there is nothing of special
interest till we come to the great open place in which stood the fountain
Nine-Spouts.
The careful engineering of the road, its elaborate drainage, the way
it is close packed on either side with houses and sanctuaries leave
us no doubt but that in it we have the one and, it appears, the only
chariot-way from the agora to the Acropolis. The shrines that line this
regular approach lie essentially and emphatically _towards that part of
the city_.
* * * * *
So far we have considered the road as an approach, but it must always be
remembered that historically we have to reverse our procedure. The city
grows _from_ the central hill, not _towards_ it, and that outward growth
is clear. It may be traced on the map in Fig. 46. The ancient agora lay
in the hollow between the hills directly overlooked by the assembly place
on the Pnyx; then as it outgrew these narrow limits it was forced bit by
bit round the West shoulder of the Areopagus, and there turned Eastward
by the hill Kolonos Agoraios, on which stands the ‘Theseion’; below
that hill was the Stoa Basileios, which in the fifth century B.C. was
assuredly part of the agora. The agora could not spread Westward; the
hill prevented that; it was forced always Eastward, first in Hellenistic
days as far as the Stoa of Attalos, then in Roman days to the Gate of
the Roman Agora and the Tower of the Winds. Such is its long but simple
story. If we follow the water-course of Peisistratos and its later Roman
extension we shall not go wrong.
The houses that covered the square in front of Nine-Spouts, and into
which fragments of the well-house were built, are all of Roman date.
Clear them away, and we have, as has been seen, a great quadrangular
space in front of the city well, a place to which all ways converge (Fig.
46). Surely here, if anywhere, is the ancient agora, close to the city
gates.
* * * * *
It is remarkable that, visiting Athens half a century before the
excavations began, an English scholar, Christopher Wordsworth[281],
by sheer light of common sense, saw that here, and here only, could
the ancient agora be, and here he marked it on his quaint, rudimentary
map (Fig. 45). His words are, as contrasted with later confusions,
memorable. ‘In order,’ he says, ‘to obtain a distinct notion of the
natural characteristics of the spot to which we refer, let us consider
it in the _first place_ as abstracted from all artificial modifications;
let us imagine ourselves as existing in the days of Kekrops, and
looking upon the site of Athens. In a wide plain, which is enclosed by
mountains except on the South, where it is bounded by the sea, rises
a flat, oblong rock lying from East to West about fifty yards high,
rather more than one hundred and sixty broad, and about three hundred
in length. It is inaccessible on all sides but the West, on which it is
approached by a steep slope. This is the future Acropolis or Citadel of
Athens. We place ourselves upon this eminence and cast our eyes about
us. Immediately on the West is a second hill, of irregular form, lower
than that on which we stand and opposite to us. This is the Areopagus.
Beneath it on the South-West is a valley neither deep nor narrow, open
both at the North-West and South-East. Here was the Agora or public
place of Athens. Above it to the South-West rises another hill, formed
like the two others already mentioned of hard and rugged limestone,
clothed here and there with a scanty covering of herbage. On this hill
the popular assemblies of the future citizens of Athens will be held. It
will be called the Pnyx. To the South of it is a fourth hill, of similar
kind, known in after-ages as the Museum. Thus a group of four hills
is presented to our view, which nearly enclose the space wherein the
Athenian Agora existed, as the Forum of Rome lay between the hills of the
Capitol and the Palatine.’
[Illustration: FIG. 45.]
The secret of Dr Wordsworth’s insight lies in the words, ‘we place
ourselves upon the eminence and cast our eyes about us.’ He stood on the
actual hill, realized, as Thucydides did, that that was the beginning of
things, noted the shape of the hill and its only possible approach, and
saw that the developments of the city must lie that way, _towards that
part_, as Thucydides would say. Half a century later Prof. Dörpfeld,
coming with the trained eye of the engineer and architect, made, quite
independently of Dr Wordsworth, the same observation. The valley enclosed
by the Acropolis, Areopagus, Pnyx, and Mouseion, was then utterly barren
of visible remains; other archaeologists had placed their agora where
ancient remains were visible, North or South of the Acropolis; Prof.
Dörpfeld, in defiance of orthodox tradition, placed it West, and there
his excavations, as we have seen, brought to light the sanctuary of
Dionysos-in-the-Marshes, the ‘Nine-Spouts,’ the Panathenaic Way, and the
host of sanctuaries, houses, wine-presses, wells, and water-courses that
encompassed the ancient agora.
* * * * *
Later we shall have to examine what it was that led other scholars and
archaeologists astray; for the present we must return to Thucydides. He
never mentions the agora, his thoughts never for a moment stray from his
city before Theseus. He has shown its meagre extent and the immediate
proximity of its most ancient sanctuaries, and to clinch his argument he
returns to the citadel itself and its ancient name; he resumes the whole
argument (see p. 8) in its last and most emphatic clause.
_Because of the ancient settlement here, the citadel as well_ (as the
present city) _is still to this day called the city_.
Thucydides is strictly correct both as regards official and literary
usage. An examination of official inscriptions shows that down to the
Peace of Antalcidas (387-6 B.C.) the Acropolis was officially known as
_polis_[282]. The new form ‘in the Acropolis’ first appears in the year
of the peace[283], and from then on is in regular use. In literature,
both in prose and verse, _polis_ is still uniformly used after a local
preposition, _e.g._ towards the _polis_, in the _polis_; but when there
is no local preposition the word acropolis is employed. Thus, in the
_Knights_ of Aristophanes[284], when the Sausage-Seller sees the Goddess
herself coming from the _polis_ with her owl perched on her, and there
is no shadow of doubt that Athena is coming from the Acropolis; but
Lysistrata[285] says, ‘to-day we shall seize the Acropolis,’ where
there is no local preposition, though the sense would have been clear
with _polis_. As Dr Wyse[286] has pointed out, it was easy for the word
_polis_ to go on being used for the Acropolis, because the Athenians had
another word (ἄστυ), which they used in such phrases as ‘in town,’ ‘to
town.’
* * * * *
We have learnt from Thucydides all he has to tell us, and in the light of
recent excavations he seems to have spoken clearly enough. The limits of
his ancient city have been confirmed by the discovery of the old Pelasgic
fortifications. We have seen with our own eyes two of the ancient
sanctuaries which lay _towards_ his city, the Pythion and the sanctuary
of Dionysos-in-the-Marshes; and from literary evidence inferred the two
others, the Olympieion and the sanctuary of Ge. We have noted that,
in the order in which Thucydides names them, they occur in succession
from East to West; and, most convincing of all, near to the last-named
sanctuary we have found Nine-Spouts, and not only Nine-Spouts, but the
old Fair-Fount that was before it. Thus all seems clear and simple;
Thucydides, Pausanias, and modern excavations tell the same harmonious
tale.
[Illustration: FIG. 46.
From _Antike Denkmäler_ II. 37.]
CONCLUSION.
Having now stated what we believe to be the truth respecting the ancient
burgh of Athens, its nature and limits and the position of its early
Sanctuaries, we have still, in accordance with the plan proposed at the
outset (p. 4), to examine other and, as we believe, erroneous views.
These views are widely current in manuals and guide-books and are
supported by names[287] that command respect. A study of the genesis of
errors so wide-spread and deep-rooted may not be unprofitable.
The sources of error seem to us fourfold, as follows:
1. _The lie of the modern town._
2. _A misunderstanding of the text of Thucydides._
3. _The duplication of certain sanctuaries and, closely connected with
this_,
4. _Confusion as to Kallirrhoë and Enneakrounos._
1. _The lie of the modern town._
A glance at the map of modern Athens will show that its centre of gravity
lies not West but North of the Acropolis—the modern market lies there
with its throng of narrow streets and the whole modern town, with its
shops, hotels, stations, spreads out in that direction. Moreover, it is
obvious that the business part of Roman Athens also lay North. To the
North lies the Gate of the Roman agora[288], besides such buildings as
the Tower of the Winds and Hadrian’s Library (Fig. 49). More than this,
the agora of Hellenistic days (Fig. 46) lay there also, and was almost
certainly bounded on its Eastern side by the Stoa of Attalos, of which
there are still substantial remains[289]. Quite recently the foundations
of two other colonnades have come to light[290], just below and to the
East of the hill on which stands the so-called ‘Theseion.’ These two
colonnades stand just at the entrance of the Greek agora; the Northern
one is probably either the Basileion or the Stoa Basileios, the first
building described by Pausanias on his entry into the Kerameikos. The
two last colonnades played no part in attempted reconstructions of the
agora, for the simple reason that they were below ground; but the Stoa of
Attalos, that of the Giants, and the Gateway of the Roman agora have been
regularly regarded as _data_ with which any theorist was bound to start;
they had to be fitted in somehow.
[Illustration: FIG. 47.]
The next question was, where was the road that led from the agora to
the Acropolis, the Panathenaic way? Given an agora to the North and
North-East of the Areopagus, and, given that you were working at home in
your study with a flat plan before you, the answer seemed obvious; the
road must have passed straight from the agora round the Eastern end of
the Areopagus, and so straight up to the entrance at the Propylaea. The
result is a reconstruction of agora and road, like that seen in Fig. 47,
a restoration made by Prof. Curtius. So utterly is the West slope of the
Acropolis ignored, that it is simply cut off as irrelevant.
Professor Dörpfeld was the first to point out that at the Eastern end
of the Areopagus, though there is a footway up to the Acropolis, there
is not now a carriage-road, there never was, and, unless the whole
natural features of the place are altered, there never will be. The hill
at that point, though short, is impracticably steep. What looks easy
and obvious on paper is in actuality impossible. Long before he began
his excavations, Prof. Dörpfeld, with the trained eye of the practical
engineer, saw the ancient carriage-way must have followed the modern
road, that is, round the West end of the Areopagus between that hill and
the Pnyx. From that point by successive windings, then and now, it could
climb the hill. The old road we have seen has now been found; it lies in
places actually under the new and follows the same course, as natural in
500 B.C. as in 1900 A.D.
One school of topographers, headed by the great name of Curtius, placed
the agora at the North side of the Acropolis. We have seen that, though
wrong for the beginning of things, this is right for the end. Another
school, though they knew that the Roman market lay Northwards, yet had
compunctions about the earlier agora. This earlier agora they placed
due South of the Acropolis, completely separated from the Roman one.
The separation was in idea as well as in place. The early agora was
supposed to be in some obscure way a religious, the later a political
and commercial centre. Such an arrangement is shown in the plan in Fig.
48[291]. It is purely theoretical and impossible. The Panathenaic way
is made to run North of the Areopagus up the impracticable hill, and the
ancient agora lies as a sort of desert island by itself, away from the
Council House, the Tholos, the Stoa Basileios, and the rest. The West
slope is left void. When and how the mysterious leap from old to new,
from South to North, was taken no one explained. This brings us to our
second source of error.
[Illustration: FIG. 48.]
2. _A misunderstanding of the text of Thucydides._
What has led topographers to make this singular and unmeaning division of
old and new? why have they placed the old agora South of the Acropolis?
Simply because, misunderstanding the words of Thucydides, they think _he_
placed it South. Thucydides says, it will be remembered (p. 7), that, in
the days before Theseus, ‘_what is now the citadel was the city, together
with what is below it towards about South_.’ We have seen that the simple
and satisfactory explanation of the words is that the reference is to
the bit of ground known as the Pelargikon, extending mainly West and
South-West of the Acropolis and included in the ancient city. We have
also seen—and this is of paramount importance—that the sole gist and
point of Thucydides’ argument is to show the smallness of the ancient
city, to prove that it was practically the same as the citadel, only
there was this bit over ‘_towards about South_.’ It is the fatal accuracy
of Thucydides that has led to his being misunderstood. It is actually
thought that he desires to prove _two_ points: first, that the ancient
city was the citadel; second, that the portion of the city not contained
in the citadel was to the South[292]; whereas, as already seen, the
_direction_ of the city has nothing, could have nothing, to do with the
case.
Once embarked on the wrong hypothesis that Thucydides lays two
propositions before us, and that one of them is that the city lay to the
South, the downward road is easy. The four sanctuaries of Thucydides are
selected, it is supposed, to prove the second proposition, i.e. that the
city is to the South. Four sanctuaries lie ready, only too ready, to
hand. We have, South-East of the Acropolis (Fig. 49), a great Olympieion;
we know from Pausanias[293] that close by it was a great Pythion, within
the Olympieion was a precinct of Ge; and last and most convincing of all,
on the South-East slope of the Acropolis is the great Dionysiac theatre,
with its precinct and two temples. Truly a little archaeology is a
dangerous thing. So obvious, so striking are these identifications, that
at the first glance they seem to compel adhesion.
But a moment’s thought obliges us to see that, if tempting, these
identifications are impossible. From its _position_ the sanctuary
of Dionysos Eleuthereus might well have been one of those named by
Thucydides, because, as already noted (p. 67), while from his words
it would be impossible definitely to say whether the sanctuaries are
North, South, East, or West, assuredly the theatre and precinct of
Dionysos Eleuthereus _are_ ‘towards’ (πρὸς) the ancient city. But, as
we have already (p. 83) seen, it is from this familiar precinct, the
sanctuary of the later Dionysos Eleuthereus, that Thucydides is expressly
differentiating his more ancient precinct; the same is the case with the
Olympieion. Thucydides and everyone at Athens knew that this vast temple
was begun in the time of Peisistratos; was it likely to be chosen as
a sanctuary to show the limits (or even the direction) of the city of
Kekrops?
[Illustration: FIG. 49.]
As regards the Pythion, special stress has been laid on the fact
that it—not the sanctuary on the Long Rocks—is called by Pausanias
the Pythion; but the explanation is easy and manifest; Pausanias is
distinguishing it from the other sanctuary of Apollo near at hand, the
Delphinion[294].
Sanctuaries so late as these could not fairly be used to prove even
the _direction_ of the city of Kekrops; but, as already shown, it is
not direction, but _size_ with which Thucydides is concerned. To give
sanctuaries like the Olympieion and Pythion, which lay outside even
the city of Themistocles, as evidence of the smallness of an ancient
‘Mycenaean’ city, a Pelasgic fortress, is an absurdity so manifest that
statement is refutation. We are brought face to face with the third
source of error.
3. _The duplication of certain sanctuaries._
The misinterpretation of Thucydides has been helped and indeed in a large
measure caused by a most curious historical fact, calculated until it was
properly understood to mislead anyone. _There was a duplication in two
different districts of certain of the most notable Athenian sanctuaries._
To the North and West of the Acropolis, as we have seen in detail, there
were sanctuaries of Zeus Olympios, of Apollo Pythios, of Ge and of
Dionysos, and near to them was a spring Kallirrhoë, and it is of these,
if our view be correct, that Thucydides makes mention, but none the less
the fact is patent to everyone who reads Pausanias and visits modern
Athens, that to the South-East of the Acropolis there are sanctuaries
of the same divinities, of Zeus Olympios, of Apollo Pythios, of Ge and
of Dionysos, and that near these also is a spring called to this day
Kallirrhoë. How did this come to be? What does it signify? The answer
once stated is simple and convincing. The duplication of sanctuaries is
due to a shift of population from North-West to South-East, from the
district of the Pnyx to the district of the Ilissus. This shift of
population is a fact historically attested.
* * * * *
Plutarch[295] in his treatise ‘On Banishment’ is trying to persuade us
that exile is in itself no hardship. He asks, ‘Are then those Athenians
to be accounted strangers and outlaws who moved from Melite to Diomeia,
whence they called the month Metageitnion, and the sacrifice they offered
took its name _Metageitnia_ from this removal, since they accepted
pleasantly and cheerfully their neighbourhood to new people? Surely
they are not.’ Plutarch’s argument does not come to much, but we are
grateful to him for recording the fact that there was this shift of
population, when or why, alas! we do not certainly know, from Melite in
the North-West to Diomeia in the South-East (Fig. 49). Did not the people
when they moved take with them their old place-names, their old local
legends, their Kallirrhoë? We have curious incidental evidence that they
did.
Let us look for a moment at the position of the two demes. As to the
position of Melite there has never been any doubt, though its exact
boundaries are not clearly defined. Melite was the deme-name given to
the hill district West and North-West of the Acropolis. It extended on
the West to the barathron, near which cheerful site Themistocles had his
home. There, Plutarch[296] tells us, _in Melite_, he built the sanctuary
of Artemis Aristoboule which gave such umbrage to the Athenians. Melite
was, we know, near the agora and on higher ground. In the opening of the
_Parmenides_[297] Kephalos meets Adeimantos in the agora. They want to
see Antiphon, and Adeimantos says it will be easy enough for Antiphon has
just gone home and ‘he lives close by in Melite.’ Demosthenes[298] in
the speech against Konon says that he was walking in the agora near the
Leokorion when he met Ktesias, and Ktesias ‘passed on to Melite up hill.’
Finally, and for our purpose most important of all, Melite certainly
included the Pnyx hill. When Meton appears in the _Birds_[299] and is
asked who he is, and where he comes from, he answers
‘Meton am I, Greece knows me and Kolonos.’
The scholiast is concerned as to whether it could correctly be stated
that Meton was of the deme Kolonos, and _apropos_ of this, as to where a
certain astronomical monument to Meton had been erected. According to one
authority there was a sun-dial in the Pnyx in his memory. The scholiast
then adds, ‘Is not, some say, _the whole of the district in which the
Pnyx is included, the Kolonos called_ μίσθιος? So customary has it become
to call the part behind the Long Stoa, Kolonos, though it is not. _For
all that part is Melite_, and it is so described in the boundaries of the
city.’ The scholiast is, of course, primarily concerned with the name of
the hill dominating the later agora, and on which stands the so-called
Theseion (Fig. 46), but incidentally he tells that the deme Melite which
included that hill included also the Pnyx. Both points, it will later be
seen, are for us important.
Melite then is to the North-West and West of the Acropolis. Where is
Diomeia? Its dimensions again are not exactly known, but happily its
_direction_ is certain (Fig. 49)[300].
* * * * *
In the deme of Diomeia was a gymnasium and a sanctuary of Herakles, both
known as _Kynosarges_, and from Herodotus[301] we know in what direction
this Kynosarges lay. After Marathon the Persian fleet rounded Sunium with
a view to landing at Phalerum, then the port of Athens. Phalerum, of
course, lies almost due South of Athens. The Athenians hurry back from
Marathon with all speed to protect the city. They leave the Herakleion at
Marathon where they had encamped, and ‘take up their station in another
Herakleion, that in Kynosarges’—Kynosarges, and with it Diomeia, must
therefore lie in or command the direct road between Phalerum and Athens.
Pausanias[302] visited Kynosarges and referred to the story of ‘the white
dog’ immediately after the low-lying district of the ‘Gardens’ on the
Ilissus before he visited the stadium.
The Herakleion of Kynosarges has shown us the direction in which Diomeia
lay. Diomeia, we have seen, was colonized from Melite. We naturally ask,
Was the Herakleion one of the duplicate sanctuaries? In other words, Was
there a worship of Herakles in Melite?
In the _Frogs_—a play be it remembered performed at the Lenaia, a
festival held originally (p. 88) in the Limnae just below the hill
district of Melite—Xanthias is dressing up as Herakles; he says to
Dionysos, as he is putting on the lion-skin,
‘Now watch if Xanthias-Herakles turns faint,
Or shows the same presence of mind as you’;
and Dionysos answers
‘The real old jail-bird, him from Melite.’
The careful scholiast[303] notes it was not usual to speak of a god as
‘from’ a place. The Melitean Herakles would normally be described as
Herakles ‘in’ or ‘at Melite’; it was treating Herakles as a mere mortal
to say Herakles from Melite. But does not the ‘from’ possibly mark an
added joke? Are not the baggage and the donkey and the ‘from’ all put
in to parody the real ‘flitting’ of Herakles from Melite to Diomeia?
That flitting was already accomplished in the time of Aristophanes, for,
later on in the play[304], when Aeacus is beating Xanthias-Herakles, and
Xanthias utters an involuntary ‘whe-ew,’ Aeacus asks if he is hurt, and
Xanthias recovering himself says,
‘No; I was just thinking,
When my Diomean Feast would next be due.’
The same curious duplication of sanctuaries meets us in the accounts
of the initiation of Herakles. The scholiast on the _Frogs_[305] says,
‘Herakles was initiated in the Lesser Mysteries in Melite, a deme of
Attica,’ but by common consent[306] these Lesser Mysteries are held to
have taken place at Agrae on the Ilissos, and it is there, according
to Stephen[307] of Byzantium, that Herakles obtained initiation. In
Melite on or close to the Pnyx hill Pausanias[308] saw beyond the spring
‘temples, one built for Demeter and Kore, the other containing an image
of Triptolemos.’ Did the emigrants from Melite carry their cult down with
them to the mystic banks of the Ilissos[309], to Agrae ‘where,’ according
to Eustathius[310], they say ‘the Lesser Mysteries of Demeter which they
call “those in Agrae” are celebrated’?
* * * * *
Tradition, then, as to the initiation of Herakles was two-fold; he was
initiated in Melite, he was initiated on the banks of the Ilissos at
Agrae in Diomeia. We naturally ask, ‘Why was he initiated at all, and why
did his initiation attract so much attention?’ If he was a god it was
superfluous, if a pious mortal merely normal. The answer to this question
may give a clue to the cause of the shift of population from Melite to
Diomeia.
Herakles was initiated because he was an immigrant stranger. We have
seen (pp. 27 and 65) that in the 6th century B.C. he was at home on
the Acropolis itself; he appears on archaic pediments contending with
Triton and the Hydra and on vase-paintings his popularity precedes
that of his rival Theseus. Yet, none the less, he is a stranger, and
his formal reception as a guest was at various places in Attica matter
of old world tradition. In the _Lysis_ Ktesippos complains that the
boys’ lovers make for him the weary old boast, that to an ancestor of
his belonged the honour of the ‘reception of Herakles[311].’ Lysis
belonged to Aixone, a deme near Phalerum; and by way of the sea in all
probability Herakles had come to Athens. Orators, specially religious
orators, are less contemptuous. The initiation of Herakles was a telling
argument in the mouth of the cosmopolitan peace-loving politician. The
Torch-bearer, Kallias[312], in his speech to the Lacedaemonian allies
urges the familiar precedent. ‘It was right,’ he says, ‘for us not to
bear arms against each other since tradition says, your leader Herakles,
and your citizens, the Dioscuri, were the first strangers to whom our
ancestor Triptolemos showed the unutterable rites of Demeter and Kore.’
Plutarch[313], again, in his _Life of Theseus_ tells how the Tyndaridae
supported their claim to initiation by citing the analogous case of
Herakles. In order to be initiated, Herakles, as a stranger, had to be
adopted by a citizen called Pylios; the Tyndaridae, whose exploits were
supposed to have taken place at Aphidna, were adopted by Aphidnus. The
scene of the initiation of Herakles and the Dioscuri occurs on more than
one late red-figured vase[314].
The emphasis laid on the initiation of Herakles and the tradition that
he was admitted at the Lesser Mysteries mark the fact that he was a
stranger. It is possible to go a step further. Herakles was not merely
no true-born Athenian citizen, but an actual foreigner, an Oriental. It
is therefore no surprise to us to learn from the best of authorities
on Athenian ritual, Apollodorus[315], that ‘sacrifice was offered to
Herakles Alexikakos at Athens after a special and peculiar manner.’ It
would be out of place here to enter upon any detailed examination of the
Oriental elements in the worship of Herakles generally, but as regards
his worship at Athens, and especially in Melite[316], some points must be
noted.
Melite, all authorities seem to agree, is _Malta_[317], the place of
refuge. Diodorus[318] gives us a full description of the original
Melite-Malta and emphasizes, if emphasis were needed, its harbourage
and generally its maritime convenience, its wealth in arts and crafts
and manufactures. ‘This island is a colony of the Phenicians, it lay in
mid-ocean and had good harbour, hence when they extended their trade
to the western Ocean it served them as a refuge.’ Of another island of
refuge called Melite Strabo[319] tells us ‘the Korybantes removed to
Samothrace which was formerly called Melite.’ This Samothrace, according
to Diodorus[320], was called in ancient days _Saonnesos_, Safe-island,
which of course is merely a translation of its Semitic name. In this
_Saonnesos-Melite_ the inhabitants down to the time of Diodorus still in
_their sacrificial ceremonies_ used many words of a dialect peculiar to
them and, according to tradition, the island got its name in connection
with the story—always a Semitic note—of the Flood. The inhabitants set up
all round the island boundary stones ‘of salvation.’
In the light of _Melite_, ‘Refuge,’ we begin to understand why Herakles
was worshipped there under the special cultus title of _Alexikakos_,
‘Preserver-from-Evil[321].’ He is Alexikakos, not merely as the hero
of the Labours but by divine right; _as a god_ even if an immigrant.
Diodorus[322] records that while the Thebans and others did honour to
Herakles as a hero ‘the Athenians were the first to offer sacrifices to
him as a god’; their pious example influenced, he says, first the rest
of Greece and afterwards the whole habitable world. Strabo[323] hits the
mark when he says ‘as in other matters the Athenians were hospitable in
what concerned the gods.’
Herakles in Melite was then in all probability a stranger; as to Herakles
in Diomeia there is no shadow of doubt. Plutarch[324] begins his life
of Themistocles with a story that shows in striking fashion the limits
of the hospitality extended to Herakles as the typical stranger. ‘The
origin of Themistokles was too obscure to be a source of distinction.’
On his father’s side he was an Athenian, but on his mother’s some said
a Thracian, but Phanias stated that she was a Karian, and Neanthes that
she belonged to Halikarnassos. Anyhow he was what the Athenians accounted
base-born (νόθος). ‘The base-born youths subscribed to the “Kynosarges,”
the gymnasium of Herakles, outside the city gates, for Herakles, too,
was not a true-born god but was introduced by adoption inasmuch as his
mother was a mortal. Accordingly, Themistocles persuaded certain of
the true-born youths to go to Kynosarges and exercise there with him.’
Kynosarges, haunt of the base-born, outside the gates; there could be no
better evidence that its patron, Herakles, was a foreigner[325].
Themistocles has yet more evidence to yield us, and that of a curious
character. Themistocles, it will be remembered (p. 144), had a home in
Melite close to the barathron. Near to his home he founded a sanctuary
of Artemis ‘to whom he gave the title of Aristoboule[326].’ This was
among the many ways in which he annoyed the Athenians. The cause of the
annoyance, Plutarch thinks, was that he gave the title to commemorate
his good advice before the battle of Salamis. But was this the real
reason? Surely the dedication gave all glory to the goddess, not to
himself? It is a curious and, I think, significant fact that we know of
another Aristoboule, and she is a manifestly Semitic goddess. Porphyry,
in enumerating instances of human sacrifice, says[327] that in Rhodes
_on the 6th day of the month Metageitnion_, a man used to be sacrificed
to Kronos. The custom, which had obtained for a long time, had been
modified. A condemned criminal was kept alive till the feast of Kronos,
and at the time of the feast they led the man outside the city gates
opposite the image of Aristoboule, gave him wine to drink and slew
him. If Themistocles was trying ‘craftily,’ as Plutarch[328] says, to
affiliate a base-born to a true-born divinity, an Aristoboule to an
Artemis, small wonder if the Athenians were annoyed. Perhaps the ‘Karian’
mother counted for something in the attempt.
* * * * *
The festival of Aristoboule in Rhodes, the grim Semitic Kronia, fell—and
the fact is surely significant—in the month Metageitnion. Certain
Herakleia, probably, though not quite certainly[329], the Herakleia in
Kynosarges, fell in the same month; and of course the actual ceremonial
of the Metageitnia mentioned by Plutarch. To this Metageitnia we now
return. We have seen that the population of Melite, the worshippers of
Herakles[330], were probably foreigners, and that at one time there was
a shift of these Herakles worshippers from Melite to Diomeia. Is it not
possible that the two facts are connected? Plutarch leaves us in mid-air
as to the time and cause of the _metastasis_, but be it observed the
shift is from Melite, a district outside the old burgh, to Diomeia, a
district, at least in part, outside the new. May it not have been felt
when the new circuit-wall of Themistocles was complete that it comprised
too many foreigners? If the shift took place soon after the building
of the new fortifications the event would still be remembered at the
performance (406 B.C.) of the _Frogs_.
* * * * *
At whatever date the _metastasis_ took place thus much is clear. It
was no chance incidental flitting of a few scattered families, but a
substantial shift of population, and it adequately accounts for the
curious duplication of sanctuaries. The foreign character of one element
in that population and of the cult they carried with them has been
emphasized because it provides at least a possible explanation of the
shift, but it must not for a moment be supposed that all the sanctuaries
and sanctities were necessarily foreign. We may conclude this portion of
the evidence by noting an instance of mythological duplication specially
convincing because wholly incidental and undesigned, the legend of Boreas
and Oreithyia.
Pausanias[331] tells us that ‘the Ilissus is the river where Oreithyia is
said to have been playing when she was carried off by Boreas the North
wind.’ We are a little surprised; what was the king’s daughter doing
playing down by the Ilissus far from her father’s citadel, and was not
the Ilissus rather a sheltered spot for the North wind? Plato[332] in the
_Phaedrus_, as Sokrates and Phaedrus are lying under the ‘tallest plane
tree’ on the bank of the Ilissus, makes Phaedrus say ‘I should like to
know whether the place is not somewhere here where Boreas is said to have
carried off Oreithyia;’ Sokrates says it is not far, about a quarter of a
mile off, and that there is some sort of an altar there—and adds ‘there
is a discrepancy however about the spot; according to another version of
the story she was taken from the Areopagos and not from this place.’
We pass to our fourth source of error.
4. _Confusion as to Kallirrhoë and Enneakrounos._
Misunderstanding as regards the duplicated sanctuaries was explicable,
even natural, but the downward road once embarked on leads to a deeper
depth. Those who believe that Thucydides is concerned to prove that
the ancient city lay Southwards have to find for the Fair-Fount and
Nine-Spouts of Thucydides a home other than the rock of the Pnyx; they
place the ancient city well, whence the king’s daughters drew their
water, outside, not only of the walls of Themistocles, but even of the
later and wider enclosure of Hadrian; they place it on the Ilissus, at a
distance of over half-a-mile as the crow flies from the citadel gate. If
the king’s daughters really ventured out there we must not, considering
the convention of the times, too severely blame the attacks of the rude
Pelasgians. And assuredly, if any one will try the experiment of carrying
a bucket of water from Kallirrhoë on the Ilissus to the top of the
Acropolis on a hot summer’s day, he will imagine those king’s daughters
as cast in more than mortal mould.
In the days when the Kallirrhoë of Thucydides could be placed on the
Ilissus the conception of Athens formed by scholars was of an Athens in
the days of Pericles. To speak of ancient Athens as a ‘Mycenaean’ city
would then have been unmeaning, if not positively insulting. As soon as
we realise the conditions of a Pelasgian burgh, with its king and his
immediate dependents massed upon and close up to the citadel, we know
that the citadel-well _must_ be close at hand—the Fair-Fount of the Pnyx
is already full far.
As to the Fair-Fount (Kallirrhoë) on the Ilissus, there has been and
still prevails much confusion. A Kallirrhoë there certainly is on the
Ilissus; the women of Athens wash their clothes there to-day[333], and
the existence of this Kallirrhoë Prof. Dörpfeld has never denied. Nay, he
expressly points out that even in the days of Thucydides the Kallirrhoë
of the Pnyx had already lost its name, and needs to be recalled to his
readers. If, as has been seen, many sanctuaries were transferred and
names duplicated there is nothing (1) impossible nor (2) injurious to
our theory, if the new Kallirrhoë was sometimes, like its old archetype,
called Enneakrounos. Though as a matter of fact this seems not to have
been the case.
* * * * *
Two ancient authorities, and two only, appear at first sight definitely
to place the Enneakrounos on the Ilissus. These must be examined in
detail. First, the _Etymologicum Magnum_[334], under the heading
_Enneakrounos_, says, ‘a fountain at Athens by the Ilissus, which was
formerly Kallirrhoë, to which they go to fetch the water for baths for
brides.’ Unquestionably, whoever wrote this thought the Enneakrounos
was on the Ilissus. But then by the time the _Etymologicum Magnum_ was
compiled the old Kallirrhoë at the Pnyx was long forgotten. The statement
looks as if it had come originally from Thucydides[335], and as if the
topographical ‘by the Ilissus’ had been added by some ambitious but
ignorant compiler.
Against this statement of the _Etymologicum Magnum_, for what it is
worth, we may set the statement of another lexicographer[336]. Explaining
the expression ‘Wedding Baths,’ he says, ‘the baths brought from a
fountain from the agora.’ The wildest topographer has never placed the
agora by the Ilissus, though it might go there with quite as good reason
as the ancient city well.
* * * * *
A second ancient literary authority seems at first sight indisputably to
place the Enneakrounos near to the temple of Zeus Olympios and, if there,
then, as a necessary consequence, on the Ilissus. In the preface to a
treatise by Hierocles[337] on _Veterinary Medicine_ there occurs, apropos
of the age to which horses and mules live, the following statement:
‘Tarantinos narrates that the Athenians _when they were building the
temple of Zeus near Enneakrounos_ passed a decree that all the beasts of
burden should be driven in from Attica to the town.’ This seems perfectly
definite and circumstantial, and the passage has been eagerly seized
on by all those who wished to prove that the Enneakrounos was on the
Ilissus. Quite naturally, but wait a moment. It is essential that the
passage be read to the end. Tarantinos goes on, ‘and a certain husbandman
through fear of this decree drove in an aged mule in its eightieth year.
But the people out of respect for its age enacted that the mule was to
be leader of all the beasts of burden employed in the building of the
temple, it was to walk in front unyoked and unspurred, and that none of
the wheat-merchants or barley-merchants were to drive it away from their
houses or prevent it from browsing.’
The aged mule story is charming; we can scarcely hear it too often, but
somehow it _is_ oddly familiar; have we not heard it before in slightly
different form? Yes; surely it is the story Plutarch[338] tells when he
is recounting the kindness of Cato to his beasts. ‘A good man will take
care of his horses and dogs, not only while they are young, but when
they are old and past service. Thus the people of Athens, _when they
were building the Hecatompedon_ set at liberty those mules which they
thought had worked hardest and let them go free, and one of them, it is
said, afterwards came of her own accord back to the works and trotted
by the side of the beasts who were drawing the waggons and led them on
and seemed to be exhorting and encouraging them. And the people passed a
vote that she should be entertained at the public expense to the day of
her death.’ The same story is told by Aelian[339] of the time ‘_when the
Athenians were building the Parthenon_,’ and he quotes as his authority
Aristotle. It is Aristotle[340] who has set the whole uncertainty going.
He tells the story of the time ‘when at Athens _they were building the
temple_.’
By the ‘temple’ Aelian and Plutarch are almost certainly right in
understanding the Parthenon. If they are right, we can infer that
Tarantinos, an author whose date is unknown, and whom we have no ground
for regarding as an authority on Athenian topography, has made at any
rate one mistake, when he identifies ‘the temple’ with the great temple
of his own day, the temple ‘of Zeus.’ Tarantinos is, presumably, taking
the story from Aristotle. If so, it is clear that, besides wrongly
identifying ‘the temple,’ he supposed that the Enneakrounos, which
on this hypothesis he for the first time imports into the story, was
identical with the Kallirrhoë of the Ilissos[341]. But what is the value
of his evidence? His supporters may fairly be challenged to produce the
credentials of a witness whose only title to be regarded as an authority
is an identification almost certainly wrong. There is nothing to rebut
the simple supposition that, like the author of the _Etymologicum
Magnum_, he is merely confusing the two Kallirrhoës[342].
Finally, supposing for a moment that the passage of Thucydides leaves
us in doubt as to the site of the Enneakrounos, naturally our next step
would be to ask what does our next best authority, Pausanias, say?
Pausanias is a topographer by profession, surely we shall learn from him
where he saw the well-house. Pausanias[343] after seeing the statues of
Harmodios and Aristogeiton ‘not far from’ the temple of Ares, passes
straight on to a small group of monuments which he links together more
or less clearly; they are the Odeion; near to it the Enneakrounos;
above or beyond this the temples of Demeter and Kore; a little further
on the temple of Eukleia. It is quite true that he links the Odeion by
no connecting particle, but that is his frequent practice when passing
straight from one monument to another.
The uninstructed reader in his simplicity would naturally think that,
as Pausanias passes straight from the statues of the Tyrant Slayers
to the Odeion, the two lay somewhere not far apart, and so they did.
The Odeion in the days of Pausanias would almost certainly be near
the site of the ancient orchestra, where still are faint remains of
a semi-circular building (Fig. 46). Anyhow it stood close to the
Areopagos. But this is too simple and natural. Pausanias we are told,
here and nowhere else, abruptly breaks his narrative of the buildings
in the Kerameikos, and with no apparent reason and no hint in the text,
flies off for nearly half-a-mile and plants his reader on the banks
of the Ilissus,—a district, be it noted, that he later describes in
detail,—whence he shortly returns again without warning and finishes
his account of the Kerameikos. In a word we are presented with what is
known as the ‘Enneakrounos Episode.’ Various causes are suggested for the
‘Episode’; the leaves of the MS. got mixed, or Pausanias was staying with
friends near the Ilissus, and went home to lunch. The real cause of the
‘Episode’ is that Thucydides has been misunderstood, and that the late
compiler of the _Etymologicum Magnum_ has blundered. Pausanias[344] saw
the Odeion in the neighbourhood of the old orchestra at the south-west
of the Areopagos, the Enneakrounos near to it by the Pnyx rock, the
temples of Demeter and Kore ‘above it’ _on_ the Pnyx rock where were the
Thesmophorion[345] and the temple of Eukleia ‘not far off’; his course of
sight-seeing was here as elsewhere orderly and undisturbed.
* * * * *
Pausanias is seen to be at one with Thucydides and, thanks to Prof.
Dörpfeld, the evidence of both has been confirmed by excavation; the
sources of error and confusion in late authors, lexicographers and modern
archaeologists have come to light. Surely now at last the ‘Enneakrounos
Episode’ may be laid to sleep in peace.
FOOTNOTES
[1] Herod. VII. 140.
[2] Thucyd. II. 14 χαλεπῶς δὲ αὐτοῖς, διὰ τὸ ἀεὶ εἰωθέναι τοὺς πολλοὺς ἐν
τοῖς ἀγροῖς διαιτᾶσθαι, ἡ ἀνάστασις ἐγίγνετο.
[3] Thucyd. I. 5, 10.
[4] Thucyd. II. 15 καὶ ξυνοίκια ἐξ ἐκείνου Ἀθηναῖοι ἔτι καὶ νῦν τῇ θεῷ
ἑορτὴν δημοτελῆ ποιοῦσι.
[5] Thucyd. II. 15 τὸ δὲ πρὸ τούτου ἡ ἀκρόπολις ἡ νῦν οὖσα πόλις ἦν καὶ
τὸ ὑπ’ αὐτὴν πρὸς νότον μάλιστα τετραμμένον· τεκμήριον δέ. τὰ γὰρ ἱερὰ ἐν
αὐτῇ τῇ ἀκροπόλει καὶ ἄλλων θεῶν ἐστί, καὶ τὰ ἔξω πρὸς τοῦτο τὸ μέρος τῆς
πόλεως μᾶλλον ἵδρυται, τό τε τοῦ Διὸς τοῦ Ὀλυμπίου καὶ τὸ Πύθιον καὶ τὸ
τῆς Γῆς καὶ τὸ ἐν Λίμναις Διονύσου (ᾧ τὰ ἀρχαιότερα Διονύσια τῇ δωδεκάτῃ
ποιεῖται ἐν μηνὶ Ἀνθεστηριῶνι) ὥσπερ καὶ οἱ ἀπ’ Ἀθηναίων Ἴωνες ἔτι καὶ
νῦν νομίζουσιν, ἵδρυται δὲ καὶ ἄλλα ἱερὰ ταύτῃ ἀρχαῖα. καὶ τῇ κρήνῃ τῇ
νῦν μὲν τῶν τυράννων οὕτω σκευασάντων Ἐννεακρούνῳ καλουμένῃ, τὸ δὲ πάλαι
φανερῶν τῶν πηγῶν οὐσῶν Καλλιῤῥόῃ ὠνομασμένῃ—ἐκείνῃ τε ἐγγὺς οὔσῃ τὰ
πλείστου ἄξια ἐχρῶντο, καὶ νῦν ἔτι ἀπὸ τοῦ ἀρχαίου πρό τε γαμικῶν καὶ ἐς
ἄλλα τῶν ἱερῶν νομίζεται τῷ ὕδατι χρῆσθαι. καλεῖται δὲ διὰ τὴν παλαιὰν
ταύτῃ κατοίκησιν καὶ ἡ ἀκρόπολις μέχρι τοῦδε ἔτι ὑπ’ Ἀθηναίων πόλις.
[6] I keep the MS. reading; see Critical Note.
[7] See Dr A. W. Verrall, _The Site of Primitive Athens. Thucydides
II. 15 and recent explorations_, _Class. Rev._ June 1900, p. 274. In the
discussion of the actual text, I have throughout followed Dr Verrall.
[8] Plat. _Kritias_ 112.
[9] Antigonos, _Hist. Mirab._ 12.
[10] W. Dörpfeld, “Ueber die Ausgrabungen auf der Akropolis,” _Athen.
Mitt._ XI. 1886, p. 162.
[11] ap. Suidam, _s.v._ Ἄπεδα el. Ἠπέδιζον: ἄπεδα, τὰ ἰσόπεδα. Κλείδημος
‘καὶ ἠπέδιζον τὴν ἀκρόπολιν, περιέβαλλον δὲ ἐννεάπυλον τὸ Πελασγικόν.’
[12] Dörpfeld, “Die Propylaeen,” _A. Mitt._ X. 1885, p. 139 and see the
plan of the Propylaea in my _Myth. and Mon. Anc. Athens_, p. 352.
[13] Dörpfeld, ‘Ausgrabungen auf der Akropolis,’ _A. Mitt._ XI. 1896, p.
167.
[14] Dr Kabbadias, _Fouilles de l’Acropole_, 1886, Pl. I. and descriptive
text.
[15] The discussion and interpretation of these figures is reserved for
p. 51.
[16] Ἐφήμερις Ἀρχαιολογική, 1866, p. 78.
[17] _Eph. Arch._ 1887, pl. 4.
[18] _Eph. Arch._ 1887, pl. 8.
[19] Dörpfeld, ‘Die Zeit des älteren Parthenon,’ _A. Mitt._ 1902, p. 410.
[20] _A. Mitt._ 3892, p. 158, pl. VIII. and IX.
[21] Plut. _Vit. Cim._ 13.
[22] Unfortunately at the actual time of the excavations the chronology
of the various retaining walls was not clearly evident and the precise
place where many of the fragments excavated were found was not noted with
adequate precision.
[23] _A. Mitt._ XXVII. 1902, p. 398, Fig. 5.
[24] F. Hauser, _Strena Helbigiana_, p. 115. The reverse was first
correctly explained thro’ the identification of the σταφύλη by Dr O.
Rossbach, ‘Verschollene Sagen und Kulten,’ _Neue Jahrbücher f. Kl.
Altertumswissenschaft_, 1901, p. 390.
[25] _Il._ II. 765 ... ἵπποι σταφύλῃ ἐπὶ νῶτον ἔϊσαι.
[26] See Roscher, _Lex._ _s.v._
[27] Paus. II. 25. 7.
[28] Paus. II. 16. 5.
[29] Paus. IX. 5. 6.
[30] Apoll. Rhod. I. 736.
[31] Strabo, VIII. 21 § 379. See my _Prolegomena_, p. 609.
[32] _Od._ XI. 594. Mr Salomon Reinach in his “Sisyphe aux enfers et
quelques autres damnés,” _Rev. Arch._ 1903, has established beyond doubt
the true interpretation of the stone of Sisyphos.
[33] Paus. I. 28. 3.
[34] Dr Rendel Harris, _The Dioscuri_, p. 8.
[35] Plin. _Nat. Hist._ VII. 57.
[36] For _Euryalos_ see _Eph. Arch._ 1885, Taf. v. 2 and 3. For
_Hyperbios_, _Mon. d. Inst._ VI. and VII.
[37] Herod. VI. 137 μισθὸν τοῦ τείχεος τοῦ περὶ τὴν ἀκρόπολίν ποτε
ἐληλαμένου.
[38] Herod. V. 64 ἐπολιόρκεε τοὺς τυράννους ἀπεργμένους ἐν τῷ Πελασγικῷ
τείχει. All the MSS. except Z have Πελασγικῷ: Z has been corrected to
Πελα_ρ_γικῷ.
[39] _C.I.A._ IV. 2. 27. 6 ... ἐν τῷ Πελαργικῷ ... ἐκ τοῦ Πελαργικοῦ.
[40] In the best MS. (Laur. C).
[41] For details of this temple, see my _Myth. and Mon. Anc. Athens_, p.
496. For its ground-plan, see below p. 40, Fig. 18.
[42] Wiegand-Schrader-Dörpfeld, _Poros-Architektur der Akropolis_. For
any realization of pre-Periclean architecture a study of the coloured
plates of this work is essential.
[43] Typhon and Tritons appear together on the throne of Apollo at
Amyclae. The artistic motives of this Ionian work are largely Oriental.
The conjunction of Typhon and the Tritons is not, I think, a mere
decorative chance. Attention has not, I think, been called, in connection
with this pediment, to the fact that in Plutarch’s _Isis and Osiris_
(XXXII.) Typhon _is_ the sea into which the Nile flows (Τυφῶνα δὲ τὴν
θάλασσαν, εἰς ἣν ὁ Νεῖλος ἐμπίπτων ἀφανίζεται). The Egyptian inspiration
of the _Isis and Osiris_ no one will deny, and on this Egyptianized
pediment with its lotus-flowers the Egyptian sea-god Typhon is well in
place. His name is doubtless, as Muss Arnolt _Semitic Words in Greek and
Latin_, p. 59 points out, connected with Heb. צָפוֹן hidden, dark,
northern. The sea was north of Egypt.
[44] Ar. _Av._ 1139
ἕτεροι δ’ ἐπλινθοποίουν πελαργοὶ μύριοι.
[45] Eur. _Ion_ 154, trans. by Dr Verrall.
[46] See Lechat, _Au Musée de l’Acropole d’Athènes_, p. 215.
[47] Any learned blunderer might write Πελα_σ_γικόν for Πελα_ρ_γικόν, but
if Πελα_σ_γικόν were the original form it would be little likely to be
changed to Πελα_ρ_γικόν.
[48] Thucyd. II. 17 τό τε Πελαργικὸν καλούμενον τὸ ὑπὸ τὴν ἀκρόπολιν, ὃ
καὶ ἐπάρατόν τε ἦν μὴ οἰκεῖν καί τι καὶ Πυθικοῦ μαντείου ἀκροτελεύτιον
τοιόνδε διεκώλυε, λέγον ὡς τὸ Πελαργικὸν ἀργὸν ἄμεινον, ὅμως ὑπὸ τῆς
παραχρῆμα ἀνάγκης ἐξῳκήθη. Thucydides calls ‘τὸ Πελαργικὸν ἀργὸν ἀμείνον’
a final hemistich. Mr A. B. Cook kindly points out to me that it is in
fact a complete line of the ancient metrical form preceding the hexameter
and known as _paroimiac_.
[49] καὶ τὸ ὑπ’ αὐτὴν μάλιστα πρὸς νότον τετραμμένον.
[50] Lucian, _Piscator_, 46.
[51] _C.I.A._ IV. 2. 27. 6.
[52] Poll. _On._ VIII. 101.
[53] Dörpfeld, ‘Die Propyläen 1 und 2,’ _A. Mitt._ X. 1885, pp. 38 and
131 and see my _Mon. and Myth. Ancient Athens_, p. 353.
[54] Dörpfeld, _A. Mitt._ XXVII. 1902, p. 405.
[55] The number of these gates is of course purely conjectural. The
sketch in Fig. 15 which I owe to the kindness of Prof. Dörpfeld gives
five only on the western slope. The line of the walls HJK is suggested by
remains of the 6th century B.C. which probably occupy the site of still
earlier Pelasgic fortifications (see p. 35 note 2). Of the remaining
gates one would probably be near where the Asklepieion was later built
and one or more on the north slope.
[56] Lucian, _Bis Accus._ 9 μικρὸν ὑπὲρ τοῦ Πελασγικοῦ.
[57] Herod. VIII. 52.
[58] Lucian, _Piscator_ 42.
[59] See _Mon. and Myth. Ancient Athens_, p. 299.
[60] _Op. cit._ p. 152.
[61] Polem. ap. Schol. _Oed. Col._ 489 καθάπερ Πολέμων ἐν τοῖς πρὸς
Ἐρατοσθένην φησίν, οὕτω ... κριὸν Ἡσύχῳ ἱερὸν ἥρω ... οὗ τὸ ἱερόν ἐστι
παρὰ τὸ Κυλώνειον, ἐκτὸς τῶν ἐννέα πυλῶν. The MS. has Κυδώνιον, the
emendation, which seems certain, is due to C. O. Mueller.
[62] Plut. _Vit. Solon._ XII. and Thucyd. I. 126.
[63] For these details about the date of the various walls I am indebted
to Professor Dörpfeld. Dr F. Noack holds that the nine-gated Pelargikon
was not of Mycenaean date but was built by Peisistratos, the earlier
Pelargikon being a much simpler structure. Prof. Dörpfeld also holds
that there was no nine-gated Pelargikon in Mycenaean days, but he
believes that the Peisistratids only strengthened an already existing
fortification, building perhaps some additional gates. The Enneapylon
would then have its contemporary analogy in the Enneakrounos. See F.
Noack, _Arne_, _A. Mitt._ 1894, p. 418.
[64] A protest was raised against the building of the Asklepieion after
it was begun; possibly this was because of its encroachment on the
Pelargikon. See A. Koerte, _A. Mitt._ 1896, pp. 318-331.
[65] See Critical Note.
[66] See throughout Prof. Dörpfeld, ‘Der ursprüngliche Plan des
Erechtheion,’ _A. Mitt._ 1904, p. 101, Taf. VI.
[67] See Dörpfeld, _A. Mitt._ XXVIII. 1903, p. 468.
[68] ο]ντος Αθηνων Κεκροπος, ἐτη ΧΗΗΔ.
[69] Thucyd. II. 15.
[70] Apollod. III. 14.
[71] Herod. VIII. 44.
[72] Harp. _in voc._; Poll. _On._ IX. 109.
[73] Paus. I. 3. 6.
[74] Hom. _Il._ II. 547 δῆμον Ἐρεχθῆος μεγαλητόρος.
[75] Aristoph. _Vesp._ 438 ὧ Κέκροψ ἥρως ἄναξ τὰ πρὸς ποδῶν δρακοντίδη.
[76] Tzetzes, _Chil._ V. 19.
[77] Only once so far as I know is Kekrops definitely called a snake, in
the _Hekale_ of Callimachus; speaking of the decision in favour of Athene
as against Poseidon he says (V. 9)
τήν ῥα νέον ψήφῳ (τ)ε Διὸς δύο καὶ δέκα τ’ ἄλλων
ἀθανάτων ὄφιός τε κατέλλαβε μαρτυρίῃσιν.
See Gomperz, _Rainer Papyrus_ VI. 1897, p. 9.
[78] Prof. Dörpfeld kindly suggests to me that the type of the Cretan
Snake-Goddess recently brought to light by Dr Evans and Miss Boyd
may have had its influence on the goddess of Athens. I agree (see my
_Prolegomena_, p. 307 note 3) and hope to return to this question on
another occasion.
[79] Herod. VIII. 41. The snake was of course at first imaginary and
Herodotus seems to doubt its existence.
[80] Paus. I. 24. 7.
[81] Hesiod, ap. Strab. IX. 9. § 393.
[82] Soph. _Philoct._ 1327.
[83] Paus. VI. 20. 2-4.
[84] Clem. Al. _Protr._ III. 45, p. 39.
[85] Theod. _Graec. affect. cur._ VIII. 30, p. 908 καὶ γὰρ Ἀθήνησιν, ὡς
Ἀντίοχος ἐν τῇ ἐνάτῃ γέγραφεν ἱστορίᾳ ἄνω γε ἐν τῇ ἀκροπόλει Κέκροπός
ἐστι τάφος παρὰ τὴν Πολιοῦχον αὐτήν.
[86] Δελτ. Αρχ. 1889, p. 10, fig. No. 3 ἐν τῷ τοῦ Κέκροπος ἱε[ρῷ.
[87] _C.I.A._ III. 1276 ἱε[ρ]εὺς Κέκρο[π]ος Ἀρίστων Σωσιστράτου Ἀθμονεύς.
[88] Brit. Mus. I. xxxv.; _C.I.A._ I. 322. The inscription is engraved on
two slabs of Pentelic marble.
[89] _loc. cit._ line 83
ἐπὶ τε͂ι προστάσει τε͂ι πρὸς το͂[ι]
Κεκροπίοι ἔδει
τὸς λίθος τὸς ὀροφιαίος τὸς
ἐπὶ το͂ν κορο͂ν ...
[90] For the name Caryatid as explained by Vitruvius see my _Mon. and
Myth. Anc. Athens_, p. 489.
[91] Dörpfeld, ‘Der ursprüngliche Plan des Erechtheion,’ _A. Mitt._ XXIX.
p. 104, 1904.
[92] Wiegand, _Die archäische Poros-Architektur der Akropolis zu Athen_
(1904), p. 106; and see also M. H. Lechat, _La sculpture Attique avant
Pheidias_, p. 53.
[93] Herod. VII. 41 λέγουσι Ἀθηναῖοι ὄφιν μέγαν φύλακα τῆς ἀκροπόλιος
ἐνδιαιτᾶσθαι ἐν τῷ ἱρῷ.
[94] Eur. _Ion_ 21-26, trans. Dr Verrall.
[95] Brit. Mus. Cat. E 418. See my _Myth. and Mon. Anc. Athens_, p.
xxxi. Two snakes also appear as Dr Wiegand _op. cit._ points out in the
Atthis attributed to Amelesagoras; see Westermann _Paradoxogr._ XII.
63 Ἀμελησαγόρας δὲ ὁ Ἀθηναῖος ὁ τὴν Ἀτθίδα συγγράφων ... φησὶ τὰς δὲ
Κέκροπος θυγατέρας τὰς δύω Ἄγραυλον καὶ Πάνδροσον τὴν κίστην ἀνοῖξαι καὶ
ἰδεῖν δράκοντας δύω περὶ τὸν Ἐριχθόνιον. Hesychius _s.v._ οἰκουρὸς ὄφις
says ... οἱ μὲν ἕνα φασὶν οἳ δὲ δύο ἐν τῷ ἱερῷ τοῦ Ἐρεχθέως.
[96] _C.I.A._ I. 322, line 44
το͂ν κιόνον το͂ν ἐπὶ τὸ τοίχο
τὸ πρὸς τὸ Πανδροσείο,
and in _C.I.A._ IV. 321, III. line 32
τὰ μετακιόνια τέτταρα ὄντα τὰ πρὸς τοῦ Πανδροσείου.
[97] Δελτ. Αρχ. 1888, p. 87, fig. 1 B, lines 27 and 41
ὁ πρὸς τοῦ Πανδροσείου.
[98] P. I. 27. 2 τῷ ναῷ δὲ τῆς Ἀθηνᾶς Πανδρόσου ναὸς συνεχής ἐστι.
[99] Paus. I. 18. 2. For the vase-paintings that illustrate the story see
my _Myth. and Mon. Anc. Athens_, p. xxiii.
[100] Paus. I. 21. 4 see _Myth. and Mon. Anc. Athens_, p. 299.
[101] P. I. 22. 5.
[102] P. I. 18. 2.
[103] See my ‘Mythological Studies—the three daughters of Kekrops,’
_Journ. Hell. Soc._ XII. p. 351, 1891.
[104] For a fuller discussion of the Arrephoria in relation to the
Thesmophoria, see my _Prolegomena_, p. 131; and for the child in the
mystery liknon, p. 525.
[105] _C.I.A._ II. 481, 58.
[106] _s.v._ ἐπίβοιον.
[107] _C.I.A._ I. 322 (Brit. Mus. I. 35. 571), l. 83 ἐπὶ τε͂ι προστάσει
τε͂ι πρὸς το͂[ι] Κεκροπίοι ἔδει τὸς λίθος τὸς ὀροφιαίος τὸς ἐπὶ το͂ν
κορο͂ν ἐπεργάσασθαι ἄνοθεν, see p. 46.
[108] _Anth. Pal._ VI. 280
τάς τε κόρας Λιμνᾶτι Κόρα κόρα, ὡς ἐπιεικὲς
ἄνθετο·
see my _Prolegomena_, p. 301.
[109] _C.I.A._ I. 141 κορὴ χρυσῆ ἐπὶ στήλης, _v._ Lolling, _Cat. des
inscr. de l’Acropole_, No. 267 τήνδε κόρην ἀνέθηκεν ἀπαρχήν.
[110] _Jahrbuch d. Inst._ II. 1887, p. 219.
[111] _C.I.A._ IV. suppl. 373 and _Eph. Arch._ 1886, p. 81, l. 6.
[112] Paus. II. 5. 1, III. 15. 10.
[113] Paus. III. 21. 10.
[114] Paus. I. 26. 5.
[115] Paus. VIII. 2. 3.
[116] Athen. XIII. 2. § 555 and Tzetzes, _Chil._ V. 19. v. 650.
[117] S. Aug. _de civitat. Dei_, 18. 9 ut nullus nascentium maternum
nomen acciperet.
[118] Apollod. III. 14. 2 μετὰ δὲ τοῦτον ἧκεν Ἀθηνᾶ, καὶ ποιησαμένη
τῆς καταλήψεως Κέκροπα μάρτυρα ἐφύτευσεν ἐλαίαν ἣ νῦν ἐν τῷ Πανδροσείῳ
δείκνυται.
[119] Herod. VIII. 55.
[120] Hesych. Fig. 146 ἀστὴ ἐλαία, ἡ ἐν ἀκροπόλει ἡ καλουμένη παγκύφος
διὰ χθαμαλότητα.
[121] For full discussion of the fragments see Dr Th. Wiegand, _Die
archäische Poros-Architektur der Akropolis zu Athen_, p. 97; _Das älteste
Erechtheion und der heilige Oelbaum_, Taf. XIV. on which the restoration
in Fig. 20 is based. The door really at the _end_ of the building is,
perhaps by a not uncommon convention, brought into view at the _side_.
Cf. the temple of Janus on a coin of Nero.
[122] Unfortunately the site of the ‘sea’ has never been systematically
excavated and examined. Professor Dörpfeld tells me that the cistern now
visible is of mediaeval date. Until the mediaeval masonry is removed the
precise character of the ‘sea’ cannot be determined. There was certainly
no _spring_, the geological character of the Acropolis plateau forbids
that, but a _well_ may exist.
[123] Paus. I. 26. 5 ταῦτα δὲ λέγεται Ποσειδῶνι μαρτύρια ἐς τὴν
ἀμφισβήτησιν τῆς χώρας φανῆναι.
[124] Apollod. III. 14. 1.
[125] Paus. I. 26. 5. The sea well at Caria was sacred to a foreign god
called Osogoa, see Paus. VIII. 10. 4. It is worth noting that Semitic
gods have ‘seas’ in their sanctuaries; Solomon’s temple had a brazen
‘sea’ and Marduk at Babylon had a _tamtu_ or sea, and curiously enough it
was associated with the great serpent. See King, _Babylonian Religion_,
p. 105.
[126] Ovid _Fasti_, II. 667
Nunc quoque, se supra ne quid nisi sidera cernat
Exiguum templi tecta foramen habent.
[127] Serv. _ad Aen._ IX. 448.
[128] Varro _L. L._ V. 66.
[129] Vitr. I. 2. 5.
[130] Paus. V. 14. 10.
[131] _Od._ VII. 80-81, trans. Butcher and Lang.
[132] _Il._ II. 546.
[133] Herod. V. 82.
[134] For Poseidon as the Tory-god I am indebted to Mr R. A. Neil’s
edition of the _Knights_; see lines 144 and 551.
[135] Paus. I. 26. 5.
[136] _s.v._ Ἐρέχθευς, but the scholiast in Lycophron, _Al._ 431, says
Ἐρέχθευς ὁ Ζεὺς ἐν Ἀθήναις καὶ ἐν Ἀρκαδίᾳ τιμᾶται; see Mr A. B. Cook,
_Classical Review_, 1904, p. 85.
[137] Apollod. III. 15. 1.
[138] _Vit. X. Orat._ p. 843ᵉ.
[139] Thucyd. II. 2.
[140] Paus. II. 17. 3. For the whole subject of the importance of these
priestly genealogies, see Professor Ridgeway, _Early Age of Greece_, p.
102.
[141] Aristoph. _Eq._ 551. See Mr R. A. Neil, _ad loc._
[142] Apollod. III. 15. 1. See _supra_, p. 62.
[143] Herod. II. 50. See R. Brown, _Poseidon_, 1872, p. 66.
[144] Herod. IV. 188-189.
[145] See Prof. Ridgeway, _The Early Age of Greece_, p. 226.
[146] Herod. I. 59. To the question of the origin and development of the
cult of Athena and to the examination of certain Oriental factors in it I
hope to return on another occasion.
[147] _Class. Rev._ 1900, XIV. p. 279.
[148] Prof. Dörpfeld draws attention (_Rhein. Mus._ LI. p. 134) to the
analogous case of Torone, which Thucydides (IV. 110) describes thus:
οὔσης τῆς πόλεως πρὸς λόφον—‘was nach dem Zusammenhang nicht _nach dem
Hügel hin_ sondern nur _an dem Hügel hinauf_ bedeutet.’ But it must
carefully be noted that as Dr Verrall (_Class. Rev._ 1900, p. 278)
observes, the notion of _ascent_ is given not by πρός but by λόφον. The
analogy is one of fact, not of the verbal description of that fact.
[149] Paus. I. 3. 4.
[150] For details of this Olympieion, see my _Myth. and Mon. Anc.
Athens_, p. 189.
[151] Eur. _Ion_, 283.
[152] Eur. _Ion_, 7 ff.
[153] Strabo IX. 2 § 404 ἐτήρουν δ’ ἐπὶ τρεῖς μῆνας, καθ’ ἕκαστον μῆνα
ἐπὶ τρεῖς ἡμέρας καὶ νύκτας ἀπὸ τῆς ἐσχάρας τοῦ Ἀστραπαίου Διός· ἔστι δ’
αὕτη ἐν τῷ τείχει μεταξὺ τοῦ Πυθίου καὶ τοῦ Ὀλυμπίου.
[154] Paus. I. 28. 4.
[155] Philostr. _Vit. Soph._ II. 5, p. 550 ἐκ Κεραμεικοῦ δὲ ἄρασαν χιλίᾳ
κώπῃ ἀφεῖναι ἐπὶ τὸ Ἐλευσίνιον καὶ περιβαλοῦσαν αὐτὸ παραμεῖψαι τὸ
Πελασγικὸν, κομιζομένην τε παρὰ τὸ Πύθιον ἐλθεῖν οἷ νῦν ὥρμισται.
[156] Paus. I. 29. 1.
[157] _loc. cit. supra._ Between the words νομίζουσι and ὡς πεμφθείη we
must mentally supply ἐνταῦθα καὶ τοῦ Πανὸς ἱερόν, φασὶ δὲ, or words to
that effect.
[158] The ‘Valerian’ wall was probably the work of Antonio Acciajoli. See
Dr Judeich, _Topographie von Athen_, p. 103, note 6.
[159] For a full account of Dr Kabbadias’s excavations from which the
above particulars are taken see _Ephemeris Archäologike_, 1897, 1-32 and
87-92, pl. I.-IV. and for _résumé_ in French _Bull. de Corr. Hell._ XX.
382 ff., also _American Journal of Arch._ 1897, p. 348 and 1898, p. 311.
[160] Ἐφ. Ἀρχ. 1897, p. 8, pl. 4 Ἀγαθὴ τύχη, Γ(άϊος) Ἰούλιος Μητρόδωρος
Μαραθ(ώνιος) θεσμοθετήσας Ἀπόλλωνι ὑπὸ Μακραῖς ἀνέθηκεν.
[161] Ἐφ. Ἀρχ. 1897, p. 9, pl. 4 Τιβ(έριος) Ἀντίστιος Κίνεας ἐκ Κοίλης
Ἀπόλλωνι ὑπ’ Ἄκραις βασιλεύς.
[162] Ar. Ἀθ. Πολ. LV. 15 and Harpocrat. _s.v._ Ἀπόλλων Πατρῷος.
[163] Ar. Ἀθ. Πολ. LVII. 4. There is no mention of Delphi, and the word
ἰσομέτρητον does not occur, but in Plato’s reference (_Phaedr._ 235 D)
it is distinctly stated both occur, καί σοι ἐγὼ ὥσπερ οἱ ἐννέα ἄρχοντες,
ὑπισχνοῦμαι χρυσὴν εἰκόνα ἰσομέτρητον εἰς Δελφοὺς ἀναθήσειν.
[164] Ar. Ἀθ. Πολ. LV. 5 ἐντεῦθεν δ’ ὀμόσαντες εἰς ἀκρόπολιν βαδίζουσιν
καὶ πάλιν ἐκεῖ ταῦτα ὀμνύουσι.
[165] Dem. _de Cor._ 275 καλῶ ... καὶ τὸν Ἀπόλλω τὸν Πύθιον ὃς πατρῷός
ἐστι τῇ πόλει.
[166] _C.I.A._ III. 198.
[167] Prof. Dörpfeld kindly tells me that he thinks it quite possible
that the poros structure below and north of the Klepsydra may be remains
of the Olympion. The situation would of course admirably suit the words
of Thucydides. The remains are marked in solid black in Fig. 46.
[168] For full particulars of this temple see my _Myth. and Mon. Anc.
Athens_, p. 190.
[169] I see to my great regret that Prof. Ernest Gardner in translating
Thucydides II. 15 renders ἱερόν throughout by ‘_temple_’, ‘the temple of
Olympian Zeus, the Pythium, the temple of Earth.’ Though _templum_ in
Latin is used to denote any sanctified space of earth or air, surely such
a use of _temple_ is misleading in English.
[170] Paus. I. 18. 9 τοῦ δὲ Ὀλυμπίου Διὸς Δευκαλίωνα οἰκοδομῆσαι λέγουσι
τὸ ἀρχαῖον ἱερὸν σημεῖον ἀποφαίνοντες ὡς Δευκαλίων Ἀθήνῃσιν ᾤκησε τάφον
τοῦ ναοῦ τοῦ νῦν οὐ πολὺ ἀφεστηκότα.
[171] _A. Mitt._ 1895, p. 56. The word οἰκοδομέω does not necessarily
imply house or temple building. It is used of building a wall, a
labyrinth.
[172] Plat. _Phaedr._ 227 Σω. ἀτὰρ Λυσίας ἦν ὡς ἔοικεν ἐν ἄστει; Φαι. Ναὶ
παρ’ Ἐπικράτει ἐν τῇδε τῇ πλησίον τοῦ Ὀλυμπίου οἰκίᾳ τῇ Μορυχίᾳ. Nothing
can be inferred from ἐν ἄστει. It means simply ‘in town’ as opposed to
the Peiraeus or the country.
[173] Thucyd. I. 126 ἔστι γὰρ καὶ Ἀθηναίοις Διάσια ἃ καλεῖται Διὸς ἑορτὴ
Μειλιχίου μεγίστη, ἔξω τῆς πόλεως.
[174] For a discussion of the worship of Meilichios see my _Prolegomena_,
pp. 12-29. What I there say as to the chthonic character of Meilichios
still I hope holds good, but I offer my apologies to M. Foucart for my
attempted refutation of his theory as to the Semitic origin of the god.
I now see that he was right. Meilichios is none other than מֶלֶךְ
misunderstood. See also Lagrange, _Études sur les Religions Sémitiques_,
1905, pp. 99-109.
[175] _Par. Chron._ (Jacobi) 6 Βασιλεύοντος Ἀθηνῶν Κρ[ανα]οῦ ἀφ’ οὗ
κατακλυσμὸς ἐπὶ Δευκαλίωνος ἐγένετο καὶ Δευκαλίων τοὺς ὄμβρους ἔφυγεν ἐγ
Λυκωρείας εἰς Ἀθήνας πρὸ[ς Κρανα]ὸν καὶ τοῦ Διὸ[ς το]ῦ Ὀ[λυ]μ[πί]ου τὸ
ἱ[ε]ρὸν ἱδ[ρύσατ]ο [καὶ] τὰ σωτήρια ἔθυσεν. I would suggest that behind
Kranaos hides another Semitic figure, Kronos.
[176] Herod. VIII. 44.
[177] Schol. ad Ar. _Av._ 1527 πατρῷον δὲ τιμῶσιν Ἀπόλλωνα Ἀθηναῖοι, ἐπεὶ
Ἴων ὁ πολέμαρχος Ἀθηναίων ἐξ Ἀπόλλωνος καὶ Κρεούσης τῆς Ξούθου ἐγένετο.
[178] Paus. I. 31. 2.
[179] Eur. _Ion_, 57-64.
[180] Eur. _Ion_, 289-295.
[181] Paus. VII. 1. 2, and see _Myth. and Mon. Anc. Athens_, p. lxxxi.
[182] Eur. _Ion_, 492.
[183] Ar. _Lys._ 911.
[184] See _Myth. and Mon. Anc. Athens_, p. 546.
[185] Eur. _Ion_, 492, trans. Mr D. S. MacColl.
[186] Ar. _Lys._ 720 τὴν μὲν δὲ πρώτην διαλέγουσαν τὴν ὄπιν.
[187] Paus. I. 22. 3.
[188] For a full list of these see Dr Frazer on P. I. 22. 3.
[189] Ar. _Thesm._ 300 καὶ τῇ Κουροτρόφῳ τῇ Γῇ, schol. εἴτε τῇ γῇ εἴτε τῇ
ἑστίᾳ, ὁμοίως πρὸ τοῦ Διὸς θύουσιν αὐτῇ.
[190] Suidas, _s.v._ Κουροτρόφος Γῆ ... καταστῆσαι δὲ νόμιμον τοὺς
θύοντάς τινι θεῷ ταύτῃ προθύειν.
[191] Paus. I. 20. 3. See Mr Mitchell Carroll in the _Classical Review_
(July 1905, p. 325), ‘Thucydides, Pausanias and the Dionysium in Limnis,’
but Mr Carroll makes the to my mind fatal mistake of examining the Limnae
question apart from the other sanctuaries.
[192] See Dr Verrall (_Class. Rev._ XIV. 1900, p. 278), who cites Burnham
Beeches which has nothing to do with any _beech_ and Sandiacre which has
nothing to do with _sand_, and, as Mr Carroll observes, ‘Rhode Island’ is
not an island nor is Washington a Washing-Town.
[193] Such sources as are necessary for my argument will be given as
required, but the whole material for the study of the Attic festivals of
Dionysos has been collected by Dr Martin P. N. Nilsson in his _Studia de
Dionysiis Atticis_, Lund, 1900.
[194] For the ceremonies see my _Prolegomena_, p. 40.
[195] Athen. XI. p. 464 F. Φανόδημος δὲ πρὸς τῷ ἱερῷ φησὶ τοῦ ἐν Λίμναις
Διονύσου τὸ γλεῦκος φέροντας τοὺς Ἀθηναίους ἐκ τῶν πίθων τῷ θεῷ κιρνάναι:
and X. 437 B ... ἀποφέρειν τοὺς στεφάνους πρὸς τὸ ἐν Λίμναις τέμενος.
[196] [Dem.] _c. Neaer._ § 73 καὶ τοῦτον τὸν νόμον γράψαντες ἐν στήλῃ
λιθίνῃ ἔστησαν ἐν τῷ ἱερῷ τοῦ Διονύσου παρὰ τὸν βωμὸν ἐν Λίμναις.
[197] _c. Neaer._ § 76 καὶ διὰ ταῦτα ἐν τῷ ἀρχαιοτάτῳ ἱερῷ τοῦ Διονύσου
καὶ ἁγιωτάτῳ ἐν Λίμναις ἔστησαν ἵνα μὴ πολλοὶ εἰδῶσι τὰ γεγραμμένα· ἅπαξ
γὰρ τοῦ ἐνιαυτοῦ ἑκάστου ἀνοίγεται, τῇ δωδεκάτῃ τοῦ Ἀνθεστηριῶνος μηνός.
[198] This and the separate character of the festivals belonging to the
Limnae from those of the precinct of Dionysos Eleuthereus were first
pointed out I believe by Professor W. v. Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, ‘Die
Bühne von Æschylos,’ _Hermes_ XXI. p. 617.
[199] The sources are (1) the law of Euegoros (Dem. _c. Meid._ 10)
Εὐήγορος εἶπεν· ὅταν ἡ πομπὴ ᾖ τῷ Διονύσῳ ἐν Πειραιεῖ καὶ οἱ κωμῳδοὶ
καὶ οἱ τραγῳδοί, καὶ ἡ ἐπὶ Ληναίῳ πομπὴ καὶ οἱ τραγῳδοὶ καὶ οἱ κωμῳδοί,
καὶ τοῖς ἐν ἄστει Διονυσίοις ἡ πομπή ...; (2) an official inscription,
_C.I.A._ II. 741, in which the same two festivals are three times
mentioned.
[200] Poll. _On._ IV. 121 καὶ Διονυσιακὸν θέατρον καὶ Ληναϊκόν.
[201] Hesych. _s.v._ ἐπὶ Ληναίῳ ἀγών· ἔστιν ἐν τῷ ἄστει Λήναιον περίβολον
ἔχον μέγαν, καὶ ἐν αὐτῷ Ληναίου Διονύσου ἱερόν, ἐν ᾧ ἐπετελοῦντο οἱ
ἀγῶνες Ἀθηναίων πρὶν τὸ θέατρον οἰκοδομηθῆναι. The same account is given
by Photius _s.v._ Λήναιον, by the _Etym. Magnum_ ἐπὶ Ληναίῳ and Bekker’s
_Anecdota_ I. p. 278.
[202] Phot. _s.v._ ἴκρια: τὰ ἐν τῇ ἀγορᾷ, ἀφ’ ὧν ἐθεῶντο τοὺς
Διονυσιακοὺς ἀγῶνας πρὶν ἢ κατασκευασθῆναι τὸ ἐν Διονύσου θέατρον,
and see also Eustath. 1472, 7, and Hesych. _s.v._ παρ’ αἰγείρον θέα.
Hesychius quotes Eratosthenes from whom very probably all the other
accounts came.
[203] Tim. _Lex. Plat._ Ὀρχήστρα τόπος ἐπιφάνης εἰς πανήγυριν ἔνθα
Ἀρμοδίου καὶ Ἀριστογείτονος εἰκόνες.
[204] Paus. I. 8. 4.
[205] To any one using my _Mythology and Monuments of Ancient Athens_ I
must at this point offer my apologies. The rough sketch map of the agora
(facing p. 5) was made before Prof. Dörpfeld’s excavations. The _Limnae_
is wrongly marked on the district near the Dipylon. I was at that time
convinced only that the _Limnae_ did _not_ lie South of the Acropolis
and wrongly identified it with the sanctuary seen by Pausanias on his
entrance into the city. The _orchestra_ also on my plan must be moved
further to the South-East. The conjectural site of the Odeion seen by
Pausanias is shown on Prof. Dörpfeld’s plan (Fig. 46). At this point a
curved foundation of Roman masonry has come to light.
[206] Plat. _Prot._ 327.
[207] Ar. _Ran. Hyp._ ἐδιδάχθη ἐπὶ Καλλίου τοῦ μετὰ Ἀντιγένη διὰ
Φιλωνίδου εἰς Λήναια.
[208] Ar. _Ran._ 218
ἣν ἀμφὶ Νυσήιον
Διὸς Διόνυσον ἐν
Λήμναις ἰαχήσαμεν
ἡνίχ’ ὁ κραιπαλόκωμος
τοῖς ἱεροῖσι Χύτροισι
χωρεῖ κατ’ ἐμὸν τέμενος λαῶν ὄχλος.
Trans. by Mr Gilbert Murray. For the χύτρινοι ἀγῶνες, see Schol. _ad
loc._, ἤγοντο ἀγῶνες αὐτόθι οἱ χύτρινοι καλούμενοι καθ’ ἅ φησιν Φιλόχορος
ἐν τῇ ἑκτῇ τῶν Ἀτθίδων.
[209] For the literature of the excavations see Bibliography. A _résumé_
of the portion relating to the _Limnae_ will be found in Dr Frazer’s
_Pausanias_, vol. V. p. 495, Addenda, Athens.
[210] H. Schrader, ‘Funde im Bezirk des Dionysion,’ _A. Mitt._, 1896,
XXI. p. 265, pl. IX.
[211] Published and fully discussed by Dr S. Wide, ‘Inschrift der
Iobakchen,’ _A. Mitt._ 1894, p. 248, and see E. Maass, _Orpheus_, p. 16
ff.
[212] _C.I.A._ III. 1159, 1186, 1193, 1197, 1202. See Dr Wide, _op. cit._
p. 1.
[213] See Dr Dörpfeld, _A. Mitt._ XX. 1895, p. 34. The intricacies of
this earlier _Bakcheion_ do not concern the present argument.
[214] I owe this view to the kindness of Mr Percy Droop of Trinity
College. It is taken from a point close to the N.W. end of the _Lesche_
(Fig. 24).
[215] _A. Mitt._ V. 116.
[216] Schol. ad Ar. _Ran._ 216 Λίμνη τόπος ἱερὸς Διονύσου ἐν ᾧ καὶ οἶκος
καὶ νεὼς τοῦ θεοῦ Καλλίμαχος ἐν Ἑκάλῃ
Λιμναίῳ δὲ χοροστάδας ἦγον ἑορτάς.
[217] Thucyd. II. 15 τὸ ἐν Λίμναις Διονύσου.
[218] _c. Neaer._ 76 τὸ ἱερὸν τοῦ Διονύσου ἐν Λίμναις.
[219] Phanodemus ap. Athen. XI. 465 A τὸ ἱερὸν τοῦ ἐν Λίμναις Διονύσου.
[220] Is. _Or._ VIII. 35 τὸ ἐν Λίμναις Διονύσιον. For these references
see Dr Dörpfeld, ‘Lenaion,’ _A. Mitt._ 1895, XX. p. 368.
[221] For the fullest account of this orchestra see Prof. Dörpfeld, _Das
Griechische Theater_, p. 27.
[222] In the _Parian Chronicle_, ἀφ’ οὗ Θέσπις ὁ ποιητὴς [ὑπεκρίνα]το
πρῶτος, ὃς ἐδίδαξε [δρ]ᾶ[μα ἐν ἄ]στ[ει. The restoration ἐν ἄστει seems
certain.
[223] Ps. Plut. _Vit. X. Orat._ 6 εἰσήνεγκε δὲ καὶ νόμους τὸν περὶ τῶν
κωμῳδῶν ἀγῶνα τοῖς Χύτροις ἐπιτελεῖν ἐφάμιλλον ἐν τῷ θεάτρῳ, καὶ τὸν
νικήσαντα εἰς ἄστυ καταλέγεσθαι, πρότερον οὐκ ἐξὸν, ἀναλαμβάνων τὸν ἀγῶνα
ἐκλελοιπότα.
[224] Ps. Plut. _Vit. X. Orat._
[225] Paus. I. 8. 6 τὸ θέατρον ὃ καλοῦσιν ᾠδεῖον.
[226] Philostr. _Vit. Soph._ II. 5. 4 τὸ ἐν τῷ Κεραμεικῷ θέατρον ὃ δὴ
ἐπωνόμασται Ἀγριππεῖον. For the whole question of the Odeion which,
save for its possible identity in site with the old orchestra, does not
concern us, see Dr Dörpfeld, ‘Die verschiedenen Odeien in Athen,’ _A.
Mitt._ XVII. 1892, p. 352.
[227] _Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion_, Chapter II., The
Anthesteria.
[228] Dr Verrall, _J. H. S._ XX. 115.
[229] _Journal of Hellenic Studies_ XXIV. p. xxxix. 1904.
[230] It seems to me possible that the transition may have been helped as
regards the word Lenaion by the fact that the Greek ληνός means _coffin_
as well as _wine-press_. The ληνός like the πίθος could be used for
purposes widely diverse.
[231] A. Koerte, ‘Bezirk eines Heilgottes,’ _A. Mitt._ 1893, XVIII.
pl. xi.; A. Koerte, ‘Ausgrabungen am Westabhange IV. Das Heiligtum des
Amynos,’ _A. Mitt._ 1896, XXI. p. 286, pl. xi.
[232]
ων τευξα-
—ων σεμνοτάτην.
Λυσιμαχι]δῆς Λυσιμάχου Ἀχαρνε[ύς.
See Dr Koerte’s discussion of the relief, _A. Mitt._ 1893, p. 235.
[233] See my _Prolegomena_, p. 349.
[234] Koerte, _A. Mitt._ 1896, XXI. p. 295 Μνησιπτολέμη ὑπὲρ
Δικαιοφάνου[ς] Ἀσκληπιῷ Ἀμύνῳ ἀνέθηκε.
[235] Koerte, _op. cit._ p. 299 ... δεδόχθαι τοῖς ὀργεῶσι ἐπειδή εἶσιν
ἄνδρες ἀγαθοὶ περὶ τὰ κοινὰ τῶν ὀργεώνων τοῦ Ἀμύνου καὶ τοῦ Ἀσκληπιοῦ καὶ
τοῦ Δεξίονος....
[236] line 15 ἀναγράψαι δὲ τόδε τὸ ψήφισμα ἐν στήλαις λιθίναις δυοῖν καὶ
στῆσαι τὴν μὲν ἐν τῷ το[ῦ] Δεξίονος ἱερῷ τὴν δὲ [ἐ]ν τῷ το(ῦ) Ἀμύνου καὶ
Ἀσκληπιοῦ.
[237] For the worship of Sophocles, see my _Prolegomena_, p. 346.
[238] Eur. _El._ 1271.
[239] _Myth. and Mon. Anc. Athens_, II. p. 554.
[240] _Prolegomena_, pp. 239-253.
[241] Athen. X. 437.
[242] Harp. _s.v._ Πάνδημος Ἀφροδίτη ... Ἀπολλόδωρος ἐν τῷ περὶ Θεῶν
πάνδημόν φησιν Ἀθήνῃσι κληθῆναι τὴν ἀφιδρυθεῖσαν περὶ τὴν ἀρχαίαν
ἀγοράν....
[243] Paus. I. 22. 3.
[244] Dörpfeld, _A. Mitt._ 1896, p. 511.
[245] Foucart, _Bull. de Corr. Hell._ 1889, p. 157.
[246] The facsimile is from Δελτίον 1889, p. 127. The inscription reads
as follows:
...]δωρος μ’ ἀνέθηκ’ Ἀφροδίτην δῶρον ἀπαρχήν.
Πότνια τῶν ἀγαθῶν τῶ[ι] σὺ δὸς ἀφθον[ί]αν.
οἵ τε λέγ[ου]σι λόγους ἀδίκως ψευδᾶς κ...εκ....
It is discussed with the two that follow by Mr Foucart, _Bull. de Corr.
Hell._ 1889, p. 157.
[247]
Τόνδε σοὶ, ὦ μεγάλη σεμνὴ Πάνδημε Ἀφρ[οδίτη]
[κοσ]μοῦμεν δώροις εἰκόσιν ἡμετέραις
Ἀρχῖνος Ἀλυπήτου Σκαμβωνίδης, Μενεκράτεια Δεξικράτους
Ἰκαριέως θυγάτηρ, ἱέρεια τῆς [Ἀφροδίτης], ...
...Δ]εξικράτους Ἰκαριέως θυγάτηρ, Ἀρχίνου δὲ μήτηρ.
For discussion of this inscription and the nature of the building
dedicated, see Dr Kawerau, ‘Die Pandemos-Weihung auf der Akropolis’ (_A.
Mitt._ 1905), which through his kindness reached me after the above was
written.
[248]
ἡ πομπὴ τῆι Ἀφροδίτηι τε͂ι Πανδή-
μωι παρασκευάζειν εἰς κάθαρσι[ν
τ]οῦ ἱεροῦ περιστέραν καὶ περιαλε[ῖ-
ψαι] τοὺς βωμοὺς καὶ πιττῶσαι τὰ[ς
ὀροφὰς] καὶ λοῦσαι τὰ ἔδη παρασκευ-
άσαι δὲ κα]ὶ πορφύραν ὁλκὴν 𐅂 𐅂 [𐅂.
See _B.C.H._ 1889, p. 157, and _Myth. and Mon. Anc. Athens_, p. 331.
[249] Plat. _Symp._ 180 D. For Aphrodite Ourania, see _Myth. and Mon.
Anc. Athens_, p. 211.
[250] Paus. IX. 16. 3.
[251] I follow M. Victor Bérard, _Origine des cultes Arcadiens_, p.
142. Ourania is ‘Queen of Heaven,’ מלכת־השׁמים, as in the Hebrew
scriptures, Jerem. vii. 18, xliv. 18-20. Pandemos is רבת־הארץ, lady
of the land. I have ventured above, p. 54, to suggest that to the armed
Ourania, the _Virgo Caelestis_, we owe at least some elements in the
armed Athena.
[252] Paus. VIII. 32. 2.
[253] Herod. I. 105. The name Kythera is Semitic (כתרת); see M.
Victor Bérard, _Les Phéniciens et l’Odyssée_, p. 427. _Kythera_ means a
headdress, a tiara, and its Greek ‘doublette’ is Skandeia.
[254] Paus. I. 14. 7.
[255] We have incidentally curious evidence of the association of
Kourotrophos with the Oriental Aphrodite. An inscription (_C.I.A._
III. 411) found on a Turkish wall near the temple of Nike mentions
the entrance to a chapel of Blaute and Kourotrophos (εἴσοδος πρὸς
σηκὸν Βλαύτης καὶ Κουροτρόφου). Lydus (_de Mens._ I. 21), on the
authority of Phlegon, tells us that Blatta was ‘a title of Aphrodite
among the Phenicians’ (καὶ βλάττα δέ, ἐξ ἧς τὰ βλάττια λέγομεν, ὄνομα
Ἀφροδίτης, ἐστι κατὰ τοὺς Φοίνικας ὡς ὁ Φλέγων ἐν τῷ περὶ ἑορτῶν φησί).
He does not tell us,—what is obvious enough,—that Blaute and Blatta
are Greek attempts to reproduce Baalat (בַּעֲלַת). Blaute is but
Aphrodite-Pandemos, Lady, Baalat of the People.
[256] Luke ii. 24.
[257] Mr E. Babelon, _Monnaies des Phéniciens_, CXXV.
[258] Ael. _Nat. Anim._ IV. 2; see M. Victor Bérard, _Cultes Arcadiens_,
p. 106.
[259] For what can here be deduced from the text apart from new
archaeological material, see Dr Verrall, _Class. Rev._ 1900, p. 277.
[260] Paus. I. 14. 1 πλησίον δέ ἐστι κρήνη, καλοῦσι δὲ αὐτὴν
Ἐννεάκρουνον, οὕτω κοσμηθεῖσαν ὑπὸ Πεισιστράτου. Between the statues
of Harmodios and Aristogeiton (I. 8. 5) and the Odeion (I. 8. 6) there
is no connecting particle. This often happens in Pausanias when things
in immediate juxtaposition are described. Traces of curved foundations
of Roman date which may mark the site of the Odeion are shown in Prof.
Dörpfeld’s plan (Fig. 46), but as the identification is conjectural I
prefer not to use it as an argument.
[261] Paus. I. 14. 1 ναοὶ δὲ ὑπὲρ τὴν κρήνην ὁ μὲν Δήμητρος πεποίηται καὶ
Κόρης.
[262] Plat. _Axioch._ I. § 364 Ἐξιόντι μοι ἐς Κυνόσαργες καὶ γενομένῳ
[μοι] κατὰ τὸν Ἰλισσὸν διῆξε φωνὴ βοῶντός του, Σώκρατες, Σώκρατες. ὡς δὲ
ἐπιστραφεὶς περιεσκόπουν ὁπόθεν εἴη Κλεινίαν ὁρῶ τὸν Ἀξιόχου θέοντα ἐπὶ
Καλλιρρόην.
[263] Herod. VI. 137 αὐτοὶ Ἀθηναῖοι λέγουσι ... φοιτᾶν γὰρ ἀεὶ τὰς
σφετέρας θυγάτερας ἐπ’ ὕδωρ ἐπὶ τὴν Ἐννεάκρουνον.
[264] Paus. I. 14. 1 φρέατα μὲν γὰρ καὶ διὰ πάσης τῆς πόλεώς ἐστι, πηγὴ
δὲ αὔτη μόνη.
[265] For what follows I am entirely indebted to Herr Gräber’s final
investigations, completing those of Prof. Dörpfeld. See ‘Enneakrounos,’
_A. Mitt._ 1905, p. 58.
[266] Fully discussed by Herr Gräber, _op. cit._
[267] Herod. III. 60.
[268] For a full account of the Samos aqueduct, see Dr Fabricius, _A.
Mitt._ IX. 1884, p. 175.
[269] Examined and discussed by Dr E. Ziller, _A. Mitt._ II. p. 112, and
see Herr Gräber, ‘Die Enneakrounos,’ _A. Mitt._ 1905, p. 58.
[270] The account is taken entirely from the official reports by
Prof. Dörpfeld after examination of the site under his guidance. See
Bibliography, _Enneakrounos_, and for the more recent supplementary
investigations of Herr Gräber ‘Enneakrounos,’ _A. Mitt._ 1905, XXX. p. 1.
[271] _A. Mitt._ XVIII. 1893, p. 223.
[272] By Herr Gräber, _op. cit._ p. 26.
[273] Paus. I. 40. 1 οὗτος ὁ Θεαγένης τυραννήσας ᾠκοδόμησε τὴν κρήνην
μεγέθους ἕνεκα καὶ κόσμου καὶ ἐς τὸ πλῆθος τῶν κιόνων θέας ἀξίαν· καὶ
ὕδωρ ἐς αὐτὴν ῥεῖ καλούμενον Σιθνίδων νυμφῶν.
[274] Delbrück and Vollmöller, ‘Das Brunnenhaus des Theagenes,’ _A.
Mitt._ 1900, XXV. p. 23, pl. vii. and viii.
[275] ap. Athen. XI. § 465 ὅθεν καὶ Λιμναῖον κληθῆναι τὸν Διόνυσον,
ὅτι μιχθὲν τὸ γλεῦκος τῷ ὕδατι τότε πρῶτον ἐπόθη κεκραμένον. Διόπερ
ὀνομασθῆναι τὰς πηγὰς Νύμφας καὶ τιθήνας τοῦ Διονύσου ὅτι τὸν οἶνον
αὐξάνει τὸ ὕδωρ κιρνάμενον.
[276] Brit. Mus. Cat. B. 329, _Antike Denkmäler_ II. Taf. 19. On another
vase in the British Museum (Cat. B 331) is inscribed Kalire Krene, Spring
Fair-Fount, and on it also occurs the name _Hippokrates_, which _may_
be intended for the brother of Kleisthenes; see _Myth. and Mon. Anc.
Athens_, Fig. 20.
[277] Mr F. M. Cornford draws my attention to the striking resemblance
between the plan of the Kallirrhoë cavern (Figs. 36 and 43) and the
curious arrangement of the ‘cavernous underground chamber’ which in Plato
(_Rep._ VII. 514) symbolizes the prison-house of earthly existence. This
chamber was entered by a long and steep descent from the outer air and
had at the opposite end a low parapet, answering to the well-parapet in
Kallirrhoë. Even the image in the niche has its Platonic counterpart in
the shadows cast by the fire-light upon the inmost wall from the images
carried along the parapet. One can imagine that Plato himself had often
visited the well, had seen his own shadow thrown across the parapet by
the torch of his guide standing at the foot of the entrance-stair, and
heard the echo of his own voice as though it were proceeding from the
shadow (Plat. _Rep._ 515 B).
[278] Omont, _Athènes au XVII. siècle_, Pl. XXXIX.
[279] See Prof. Dörpfeld, _A. Mitt._ XX. p. 510, 1895.
[280] Prof. Dörpfeld writes to me—‘Unhappily this is no longer true; the
inscribed stones have been stolen.’
[281] Wordsworth, _Greece pictorial, descriptive and historical_, p. 133,
1839.
[282] _C.I.A._ II. 11 and IV. 211 _b_.
[283] _C.I.A._ II. 14. See Foucart, _Bull. de Corr. Hell._ p. 166, 1888.
[284] Ar. _Eq._ 1092
καὶ μοὐδόκει ἡ θεὸς αὐτὴ
ἐκ πόλεως ἐλθεῖν καὶ γλαῦξ αὐτῇ ’πικαθῆσθαι.
[285] Ar. _Lys._ 175.
[286] _Speeches of Isaeus_, p. 476, where the use of _polis_ for
_acropolis_ is fully discussed.
[287] See Bibliography.
[288] The map in Fig. 46 is reproduced by Prof. Dörpfeld’s kind
permission from his official plan published in the _Antike Denkmäler_
(II. 37). To discuss the later Greek, Hellenistic and Roman agoras is
no part of the object of the present book, but it was thought well to
reproduce the plan as showing how the agora spread gradually to the
North and also as elucidating the complex of roads that meet at the
Enneakrounos.
[289] For the details of this and the other buildings both of the
Hellenistic and Roman agoras, see my _Myth. and Mon. Anc. Athens_, pp.
17-22, 199, 183-203.
[290] _A. Mitt._ 1896, XXI. p. 108.
[291] After the restoration of W. Judeich, _Jahrbuch f. Phil._ CXLI. p.
746. The plan is only given here to illustrate bygone conceptions. I am
rejoiced to see that Dr Judeich in his recent _Topographie von Athen_,
1905, accepts the main outlines of Prof. Dörpfeld’s topography. See his
Plan I.
[292] For a full statement of this view see Dr Frazer, _Pausanias_, Vol.
V. p. 484, and Prof. Ernest Gardner, _Ancient Athens_, p. 141. I regret
to see that Prof. Ernest Gardner translates καὶ τὸ _ὑπ’ αὐτὴν_ πρὸς νότον
μάλιστα τετραμμένον ‘and the district _outside it_ to the Southward.’
[293] Paus. I. 18. 6 and 7, and I. 19. 1.
[294] Paus. I. 19. 1. For a full account of this Olympieion and Pythion
which, save for the mistaken identification, do not concern us here, see
my _Myth. and Mon. of Anc. Athens_, p. 184.
[295] Plut. _de Exil._ VI. ἆρα οὖν ξένοι καὶ ἀπόλιδες εἰσὶν Ἀθηναίων
οἱ μεταστάντες ἐκ Μελίτης εἰς Διωμίδα ὅπου καὶ μῆνα Μεταγειτνιῶνα καὶ
θυσίαν ἐπώνυμον ἄγουσι τοῦ μετοικισμοῦ τὰ Μεταγείτνια, τὴν πρὸς ἑτέρους
γειτνιάσιν εὐκόλως καὶ ἱλαρῶς ἐκδεχόμενοι καὶ στέργοντες; οὐκ ἂν εἴποις.
Attention was first drawn to the importance of this passage by Prof.
Dörpfeld.
[296] Plut. _Vit. Them._ 22 πλήσιον δὲ τῆς οἰκίας κατεσκεύασεν ἐν Μελίτῃ
τὸ ἱερόν οὗ νῦν τὰ σώματα τῶν θανατουμένων....
[297] Plat. _Parmenid._ 126 C.
[298] Dem. LIV. 7 ... παρῆλθε πρὸς Μελίτην ἄνω.
[299] Ar. _Av._ 999
ἐγὼ Μέτων,
ὃν οἶδεν Ἕλλας χὠ Κολωνός,
Schol. ... ἐπὶ Ἀψεύδους δὲ τοῦ Πυθοδώρου ἡλιοτρόπιον ἐν τῇ νῦν οὔσῃ
ἐκκλησίᾳ πρὸς τῷ τείχει τῷ ἐν τῇ πνύκι. μήποτε οὖν τὸ χώριον φασί τινες
ἐκεῖνο ἅπαν ᾧ περιλαμβάνεται καὶ ἡ Πνύξ, Κολωνός ἐστιν ὁ ἕτερος, ὁ
μίσθιος λεγόμενος· οὕτως μέρος τι νῦν σύνηθες γέγονε τὶ Κολωνὸν καλεῖν
τὸ ὄπισθεν τῆς μακρᾶς στοᾶς· ἀλλ’ οὔκ ἐστι. Μελίτη γὰρ ἅπαν ἐκεῖνο ὡς ἐν
τοῖς ὁρισμοῖς γέγραπται τῆς πόλεως.
The MSS. have ἐκεῖνο ἐπάνω, Forchammer ἐπάνω ᾧ, Wachsmuth ἅπαν ᾧ, Dobree
πᾶν ᾧ. I follow Wachsmuth.
[300] Diomeia is marked on my map (Fig. 49) to the South-East of the
Olympieion. My map was drawn before the appearance of Dr Judeich’s
_Topographie von Athen_; I am glad to see that he (_Topographie_, pp.
155, 158) accepts the position assigned by Professor Dörpfeld to Diomeia.
The British School of Archaeology claims to have found the gymnasium of
Kynosarges (_Annual of the British School_, 1896-7, p. 89), but as the
plans are not yet published I prefer to base my argument on literary
evidence.
[301] Herod. VI. 116.
[302] Paus. I. 19. 3. Those who following Curtius (_Stadtgeschichte von
Athen_, pl. IV.) place Diomeia and Kynosarges North-West on the slopes of
Lykabettos have to make Pausanias retrace his steps to visit the stadium.
[303] Schol. _ad_ Ar. _Ran._ 501 ... οὑκ Μελίτης μαστιγίας, σύνηθές τε
οὐχ οὕτω λέγειν ἐπὶ θεῶν, οὑκ Μελίτης ἀλλ’ ὁ ἐν Μελίτῃ, ὡς καὶ Ζεὺς ὁ ἐν
Ὀλυμπίᾳ· ἐπὶ δὲ ἀνθρώπων ἐκ Μελίτης.... My attention was drawn to the
scholiast’s remark in relation to the ‘flitting’ by Mr Gilbert Murray.
[304] Ar. _Ran._ 650
ἀλλ’ ἐφρόντισα
ὁπόθ’ Ἡράκλεια τἀν Διομείοις γίγνεται.
[305] Ar. _Ran._ 501 Schol. ... ἐν γὰρ Μελίτῃ δήμῳ τῆς Ἀττικῆς ἐμυήθη
Ἡρακλῆς τὰ μικρὰ μυστήρια.
[306] Plut. _Demetr._ 26. Kleidemos, ap. Bekk. _Anec._ p. 326 Ἄγραι
χωρίον ἔξω τῆς πόλεως Ἀθηνῶν, οὗ τὰ μικρὰ τῆς Δήμητρος ἄγεται μυστήρια.
[307] Steph. Byz. Ἄγρα καὶ Ἄγραι χωρίον ... ἐν ᾧ τὰ μικρὰ μυστήρια
ἐπιτελεῖται μίμημα τῶν περὶ τὸν Διόνυσον, ἐν ᾧ λέγουσι καὶ τὸν Ἡρακλέα
μεμυῆσθαι (codd. μεμνῆσθαι).
[308] Paus. I. 14. 2.
[309] Kleidemos, _loc. cit._ παρ’ Ἰλισσοῦ μυστικαῖς ὄχθαις.
[310] Eustath. 361. 38 ἀπὸ χώρας πρὸς τῷ Ἰλισσῷ ᾧ κλῆσις Ἄγραι καὶ
Ἄγρα, οὗ τὰ μικρὰ τῆς Δήμητρος ἤγετό φησι μυστήρια ἃ ἐλέγετο τὰ ἐν
Ἄγραις. Professor Tucker is I believe right in his conjecture (_Class.
Rev._ 1904, p. 416) that the Mysteries in the _Frogs_ are these Lesser
Mysteries and this, as I have pointed out in connection with his
discussion (_op. cit._, p. 418), adds fresh significance to the figure of
Herakles.
[311] Plat. _Lys._ 205 C Ἡρακλέους ξενισμόν.
[312] Xen. _Hell._ VI. 3. 6.
[313] Plut. _Vit. Thes._ 33.
[314] See my _Myth. and Mon. Anc. Athens_, p. 155, Fig. 33.
[315] Apollod. ap. Zenob. _Cant._ V. 22 μήλου (l. μήλων) Ἡρακλῆς.
Ἀπολλόδωρος ἐν τοῖς περὶ θεῶν ὅτι θύεται Ἀθήνησι Ἡρακλεῖ ἀλεξικάκῳ
ἰδιάζουσά τις θυσιά. Pollux (_Onom._ I. 30) gives the aetiological myth
and adds the important detail that the same cultus title _Melon_ and the
same ritual was in use in Boeotia. καὶ καλεῖται παρὰ τοῖς Θηβαίοις ἢ τοῖς
Βοιωτοῖς Μήλων ὁ Ἡρακλῆς, ὄνομα ἐκ τοῦ τρόπου τῆς θυσίας λαβών. Melos and
Belos appear to be interchangeable forms (Steph. Byz. Βῆλος, ἢ καὶ Μῆλος
πρὸς ταῖς Ἡρακλέους στήλαις), and of the island Melos we know from the
same writer (_s.v._ Μῆλος) that its earlier colonists were Phenicians,
Φοίνικες οὖν οἰκισταὶ πρότερον. Cf. Herakles at Gades, Appian (ed. Bekk.
p. 49) says Θρησκεύεται νῦν ἔτι φοινικικῶς.
[316] The Oriental character of the Herakles cult at Melite was first,
I believe, pointed out by Curtius, and further emphasized by Wachsmuth,
_Stadt Athen_, p. 404 ff. It has never, I believe, been discussed in
relation to the shift of population from Melite to Diomeia.
[317] See Lewy, _Die Semitischen Fremdwörter im Griechischen_, p. 209,
the root mālaṭ מלט to save, מְלִיטָה.
[318] Diod. V. 12 καὶ πρώτη μέν ἐστιν ἡ προσαγορευομένη Μελίτη ... ἐστὶ
δὲ ἡ νῆσος αὕτη Φοινίκων ἄποικος οἳ ταῖς ἐμπορίαις διατείνοντες μέχρι
τοῦ κατὰ τὴν δύσιν Ὠκεανοῦ καταφυγὴν εἶχον ταύτην, εὐλίμενον οὖσαν καὶ
κειμένην πελαγίαν.
[319] Strab. X. 472 ... ἀπελθεῖν τούτους (τοὺς Κορύβαντας) εἰς Σαμοθράκην
καλουμένην πρότερον Μελίτην.
[320] Diod. V. 47 ἔνιοι δέ φασι τὸ παλαιὸν Σαόννησον καλουμένην ...
ἐσχήκασι δὲ παλαιὰν ἰδίαν διάλεκτον οἱ αὐτόχθονες ἧς πολλὰ ἐν ταῖς
θυσίαις μέχρι τοῦ νῦν τηρεῖται ... ὅρους θέσθαι τῆς σωτηρίας.
[321] Hesych. _s.v._ ἐκ Μελίτης μαστιγίας, καλεῖται δὲ ὁ ἐν Μελίτῃ
Ἡρακλῆς ἀλεξίκακος. The Greek was doubtless, as Lewy points out, simply
the translation of some such Semitic divine title as מְמַלֵּט
מֵרָעָה mᵉmallēṭ mērāʿā, Preserver-from-Evil.
[322] Diod. IV. 39. Diodorus goes on to describe the strange primitive
ceremony of adoption by which Hera naturalized Herakles among the
Olympians; see my _Proleg._, p. 347.
[323] Strabo X. 471.
[324] Plut. _Vit. Them._ 1.
[325] The cult of Herakles in Diomeia contains other elements obviously
Semitic, the discussion of which would lead us far. The details are given
in my _Myth. and Mon. Ancient Athens_, p. 216, but the Semitic character
of the ‘white dog’ legend I did not then realize. Prof. Robertson Smith
long ago (_Religion of the Semites_, p. 274, note 2), pointed out that
the supposed ‘white dog’ is really the ‘dogs’ enclosure’ and that the
sacred dogs are a class of Semitic temple-ministrants (see Deut. xxiii.
18, and _C.I.S._ No. 86). To the whole question of the Semitic elements
in the worship of Herakles I hope to return on another occasion.
[326] Plut. _Vit. Them._ 22 ... ἣν Ἀριστοβούλην μὲν προσηγόρευσεν.
[327] Porphyr. _de Abst._ II. 54 ἐθύετο γὰρ καὶ ἐν Ῥόδῳ μηνὶ
Μεταγειτνιῶνι ἑκτῇ ἱσταμένου ἄνθρωπος τῷ Κρόνῳ ὃ δὴ ἐπὶ πολὺ κρατῆσαν
ἔθος μετεβλήθη· ἕνα γὰρ τῶν ἐπὶ θανάτῳ δημοσίᾳ κατακριθέντων μέχρι μὲν
τῶν Κρονίων συνεῖχον, ἐνστάσης δὲ τῆς ἑορτῆς προαγαγόντες τὸν ἄνθρωπον
ἔξω πυλῶν ἄντικρυ τοῦ Ἀριστοβούλης ἕδους οἴνου ποτίσαντες ἔσφαττον. In
this connection it is strange that the tradition of human sacrifice
before the battle of Salamis, possibly apocryphal, attaches itself to
Themistocles; see my _Prolegomena_, p. 489.
[328] Plut. _Vit. Them._ 1.
[329] Aug. Mommsen, _Feste der Stadt Athen_, p. 160. Probably Mommsen is
right in his conjecture that the sacrifice of the Metageitnia mentioned
by Plutarch was an actual part or at least preliminary to the _Herakleia_.
[330] I selected the worship of Herakles for discussion because we have
definite evidence that Herakles is connected with Diomeia as well as
Melite. An equally striking case of the shift of a foreign cult from
Melite to the district of the Ilissos is that of Aphrodite Ourania.
Pausanias (I. 14. 7) saw the sanctuary in Melite, noted its oriental
origin and the current story that Porphyrion founded a sanctuary of
Aphrodite in the deme Athimoneus, _i.e._ on the way from Marathon. When
he came to the Ilissos to the district of the Gardens (I. 19. 2) he
sees the sanctuary of Aphrodite Ourania, her image as a _herm_ and the
inscription says she is eldest of the Fates. He notes that there is ‘no
local legend.’ How should there be if the cult was transplanted? From
this sanctuary he passes on next to Kynosarges.
[331] Paus. I. 19. 5.
[332] Plat. _Phaedr._ 229 A.
[333] See _Myth. and Mon. Anc. Athens_, p. 226 and Fig. 17. Since I wrote
that account excavations have been undertaken by the Greek Archaeological
Society on the supposed site of the Enneakrounos on the Ilissus; traces
of channels for the conducting of water have been found, but the water so
conducted is not drinkable. For report see Πρακτικὰ τῆς Ἀρχ. Ἑταιρίας,
1893, pp. 111-136.
[334] _Etym. Mag._ Ἐννεάκρουνος· κρήνη Ἀθήνησι παρὰ τὸν Ἴλισσον, ἡ
πρότερον Καλλιρόη ἔσκεν ἀφ’ ἧς τὰ λουτρὰ ταῖς γαμουμέναις μετίασι.
Πολύζηλος Δημοτυνδαρέῳ
‘ἴξει πρὸς Ἐννεάκρουνον, εὔυδρον τόπον.’
See Koch, _Frag. Com._ vol. I. pp. 790-2. Polyzelos is of course not
responsible for the statement about the Ilissos.
[335] Hesych. _s.v._ Ἐννεάκρουνος takes his account and acknowledges it
ὥς φησι καὶ Θουκυδίδης.
[336] Suidas, _s.v._ νυμφικὰ λουτρά—τὰ εἰς γάμους ἐκ τῆς ἀγορᾶς ἀπὸ
κρήνης λαμβανόμενα.
[337] Hierocles, _Hippiatr. praef._ sub fin. Ταραντῖνος δὲ ἱστορεῖ
τὸν τοῦ Διὸς νεὼν κατασκευάζοντας Ἀθηναίους Ἐννεακρούνου πλησίον
εἰσελαθῆναι ψηφίσασθαι τὰ ἐκ τῆς Ἀττικῆς εἰς τὸ ἄστυ ζεύγη ἅπαντα· φόβῳ
δὲ τοῦ ψηφίσματός τινα τῶν γεωργῶν ἡμίονον ἀγαγεῖν γέραιον ἄγοντα ἔτος
ὀγδοηκοστὸν, τὸν δὲ δῆμον τιμῇ τοῦ γήρως προηγητόρα τῶν ζεύγων εἰς τὴν
κατασκευὴν αὐτὸν τοῦ νεὼ καταστῆσαι προβαδίζειν τε ἄζευκτον καὶ ἄπληκτον
ψηφίσασθαι μηδένα δὲ τῶν πυροπώλων ἢ κριθοπώλων ἀπελαύνειν αὐτὸν τῆς
ἑστίας ἢ ἀπείργειν τῆς βρώσεως. It will be seen that I have construed
πλησίον with κατασκευάζοντας, that being the usual rendering. Dyer has
however pointed out (_Journal of Philology_, III. 1871, p. 90) that it
might be taken with εἰσελαθῆναι.
[338] Plut. _Cat._ V. ὁ δὲ τῶν Ἀθηναίων δῆμος οἰκοδομῶν τὸν Ἑκατόμπεδον,
and _De sollert. an._ XIII. τὸν γὰρ ἑκατόμπεδον νεὼν Περικλέους ἐν
ἀκροπόλει.
[339] Ael. _Hist. An._ VI. 49 Ἡνίκα γοῦν Ἀθηναῖοι κατεσκεύαζον τὸν
Παρθενῶνα.
[340] Aristot. _Hist. An._ VI. 24 ἤδη γάρ τις βεβίωκεν ἔτη καὶ ὀγδοήκοντα
οἷον Ἀθήνησιν ὅτε τὸν νεὼν ᾠκοδόμουν· ὃς καὶ ἀφειμένος ἤδη διὰ τὸ γῆρας,
συναμπρεύων καὶ παραπορευόμενος παρώξυνε πρὸς τὸ ἔργον ὡς ἐψηφίσαντο μὴ
ἀπελαύνειν αὐτὸν τοὺς σιτοπώλους ἀπὸ τῶν τηλιῶν. Aristotle is obviously
the ultimate source of the statement of Tarantinos.
[341] Professor Ernest Gardner in his _Ancient Athens_, p. 20, quotes
the passage of Tarantinos as part of the ‘overwhelming evidence that
Kallirrhoë lay in the bed of Ilissus.’ No one, so far as I know, has
ever doubted that there was a Kallirrhoë in the bed of the Ilissus, the
point is whether the particular Kallirrhoë which was transformed into
Enneakrounos lay there. Attention was I believe first drawn by Prof.
Dörpfeld to the various temple buildings with which the mule-story is
connected. I owe the references to Dr Bodensteiner’s ‘Enneakrounos und
Lenaion,’ _Blätter f. das Gym. Schulwesen_, 1895, p. 31.
[342] It is almost incredible that the fact that Alciphron in one epistle
(III. 49. 1) mentions Enneakrounos—as a source of ordinary drinking
water—and in another (III. 51. 1) speaks of Kallirrhoë—as an object
of sentiment—has been urged as an argument for an Enneakrounos on the
Ilissos. He is obviously speaking of two different springs. Pliny (_N.
H._ IV. 7. 11) enumerating the Attic fountains says ‘Cephisia Larine
Calliroe, Enneacrunos,’ and some editors assume that Pliny wrote Calliroe
Enneacrunos by apposition. Surely, as Dyer observes (_Journ. Phil._ III.
p. 87), since Pliny was reckoning up the actual number of fountains, he
would have given his readers notice that these were only two different
names for the same object, and have inserted _seu_ or some such word
between them.
[343] Paus. I. 8. 5 οὐ πόρρω δὲ ἑστᾶσιν Ἁρμόδιος καὶ Ἀριστογείτων. I. 14.
1 ἐς δὲ τὸ Ἀθήνῃσιν ἐσελθοῦσιν Ὠδεῖον ... πλήσιον δέ ἐστι κρήνη, καλοῦσι
δὲ αὐτὴν Ἐννεάκρουνον ... ναοὶ δὲ ὑπὲρ τὴν κρήνην ἔτι δὲ ἀπωτέρω ναὸς
Εὐκλείας.
[344] For further evidence on these sanctuaries, see my _Myth. and Mon.
Anc. Athens_, pp. 89-111.
[345] For the Eleusinion and Thesmophorion, see Dörpfeld, _A. Mitt._
XXII. 1897, p. 477, and 1896, p. 106.
CRITICAL NOTE
On Thucydides II. 15 §§ 3-6. For text see p. 7.
It seems to me that there is probably no corruption at all in this
passage and that we may follow the MSS. throughout. (The MSS. are Hude’s
A B C E F G M.)
l. 1. πρὸ τούτου: πρὸ τοῦ C G. No improvement, being a little less
definite than πρὸ τούτου; but on technical grounds quite likely to be
right.
ἡ ἀκρόπολις ἡ νῦν οὖσα πόλις ἦν: Hude transposes ἡ, so as to read ἡ
ἀκρόπολις νῦν οὖσα ἡ πόλις ἦν. Perhaps slightly easier. Stuart Jones
keeps the MS. reading.
l. 2. καὶ ἄλλων θεῶν ἐστι: Classen marked a lacuna here, and most editors
follow him. The meaning of ἄλλων is undoubtedly ‘other than Athena,’ to
whom in Thucydides’ time the Acropolis belonged. The question is whether
in order to make ἄλλων clear, Thucydides must have mentioned Athena
in this clause; or whether from (1) the mention of τῇ θεῷ in the last
sentence, and (2) the obvious and close connexion between Athena and the
Acropolis of Athens, the reference to her could be ‘understood.’
On purely critical grounds this is hard to decide, as it depends on
various unsolved problems about the condition of our Thucydides MSS.,
and the degree of divergence from smooth writing of which Thucydides was
capable. But, if we do suppose that a line has fallen out, I do not think
the argument quite suits with corrections like Classen’s ἄλλων θεῶν ἐστι
<καὶ τὰ τῆς Ἀθηνᾶς>, or Wilamowitz’s ἐν αὐτῇ τῇ ἀκροπόλει <καὶ ὑπ’
αὐτῇ τῆς τ’ Ἀθηναίας> καὶ ἄλλων θεῶν. Everyone knew that Athena lived
on the Acropolis. You would need <οὐ μόνον τῆς Ἀθηναίας ἀλλὰ> καὶ. And
this sense, after all, is just what we have from the text as it stands.
l. 4. τὸ ἐν Λίμναις Διονύσου: τὸ <τοῦ> Cobet: on purely linguistic
grounds, of which it is hard to estimate the cogency. The same remark
applies to the proposed omissions of either τῇ δωδεκάτῃ or of ἐν μηνὶ
Ἀνθεστηριῶνι in the next sentence.
l. 7. σκευασάντων: κελευσάντων two MSS. (C G), clearly wrong.
l. 8. ἐκείνῃ MSS.: ἐκεῖνοι (_i.e._ οἱ ἀρχαῖοι) Bekker. This makes the
construction easier, and is palaeographically very probable.
τὰ πλείστου ἄξια: τὰ πλεῖστα ἄξια two MSS. (A B): a mere slip.
BIBLIOGRAPHY.
THUCYDIDES, II. 15, discussion of.
N. Wecklein, _Sitzungsber. der Bayer. Akad._, 97, 1887.
P. Stahl, “Thukydides über das alte Athen vor Theseus.” _Rhein.
Mus. für Philol._, L. p. 566, 1895.
W. Dörpfeld, “Das alte Athen vor Theseus.” _Rhein. Mus. für
Philol._, LI. p. 127, 1896.
C. Wachsmuth, “Neue Beiträge zur Topographie von Athen. Das
Thukydideische Ur-Athen.” _Abhandl. der K. Sächs. Ges. der
Wiss._, XLI. 1899.
A. W. Verrall, “Thucydides II. 15 and Recent Explorations.”
_Classical Review_, XIV. p. 274, 1900.
L. R. Farnell, “Questions concerning Attic Topography and
Religion.” _Classical Review_, p. 369, 1900.
M. Carroll, “Thucydides, Pausanias and the Dionysium in
Limnis.” _Classical Review_, XIX. p. 325, 1905.
PAUSANIAS, Commentaries on.
T. H. Dyer, _Ancient Athens, its History, Topography and
Remains_, ch. vi. p. 180 sqq., 1873.
Harrison and Verrall, _Mythology and Monuments of Ancient
Athens_, p. 90, 1890.
O. Fallis, _Pausanias auf der Agora von Athen_. Munich, 1895.
Hitzig und Blümner, _Pausaniae Graeciae Descriptio_, 1896.
J. G. Frazer, _Pausanias’ Description of Greece_, 1898.
Official Reports of Excavations by the German Archaeological Institute at
Athens published in—
(1) _Mittheilungen des K. Deutschen Archaeologischen Instituts in Athen._
(_a_) Die Ausgrabungen am Westabhange der Acropolis.
I. W. Dörpfeld, “Allgemeine Uebersicht,” XIX. p. 496, Pl. XIV.,
1894.
II. W. Dörpfeld, “Das Lenaion oder Dionysion in den Limnai,”
XX. p. 161, Pl. IV., 1895.
III. H. Schrader, “Funde im Gebiete des Dionysion,” XXI. p.
265, Pl. VIII.-X., 1896.
IV. O. Körte, “Das Heiligtum des Amynos,” XXI. p. 287, Pl. XI.,
1896; and see Körte, “Bezirk eines Heilgottes,” XVIII. p. 231,
Pl. XI., 1893.
V. C. Watzinger, “Einzelfunde,” XXVI. p. 305, 1901.
(_b_) Die Ausgrabungen an der Enneakrounos.
I. W. Dörpfeld, XVII. p. 439, 1892.
II. W. Dörpfeld, XIX. p. 143, 1894;
and see Dörpfeld, “Die verschiedenen Odeien in Athen,” XVII. p.
252, 1892.
S. Wide, “Inschrift der Iobakchen,” XIX. p. 248, 1894.
H. v. Prott, “Enneakrunos, Lenaion, u. Διονύσιον ἐν Λίμναις,”
XXIII. p. 205, 1898; and see Prott, Nachtrag dazu, XXIII. p.
367, 1898.
C. Watzinger, “Mimologen. Terracotta vom Westabhange,” XXVI. p.
1, Pl. I., 1901.
C. Watzinger, “Vasenfunde aus Athen,” XXVI. p. 50, Pl. II.-IV.,
1901.
Fr. Gräber, “Die Enneakrunos,” XXX. p. 58, 1905.
E. Ziller, “Wasserleitungen von Athen,” II. 1877.
Fabricius, “Polykrates at Samos,” IX. p. 165, 1884.
Delbrück u. K. G. Vollmöller, “Das Brunnenhaus des Theagenes,”
XXV. p. 23, Pl. VII., VIII., 1900.
_Funde._
1. “Aphrodite Pandemos,” XIV. p. 121, 1889; and see G. Kawerau
u. F. Weibach, “Die Pandemosweihung auf der Akropolis,” XXX. p.
298, 1905.
2. Discoveries, various, XV. p. 343, 444, 1890; XVI. pp. 140,
252, 361, 443, 1891; XVII. pp. 90, 281, 449, 1892.
3. “Stoa Basileios,” XXI. pp. 103, 458, 1896; XXII. pp. 225,
476, 1897.
_Sitzungsprotokolle._
W. Dörpfeld, “Alopeke,” XX. p. 507, 1895.
P. Wolters, “Δεξίων,” XX. p. 508, 1895.
W. Dörpfeld, “Enneakrunos im Siebzehnten Jahrhundert” (Guillet
et Coronelli), XX. p. 510, 1895.
W. Dörpfeld, “Aphrodite Pandemos,” XX. p. 511, 1895.
(2) _Antike Denkmäler d. K. Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts Berlin._
(Official plans of Excavations with Text.) Ausgrabungen in Athen,
1899-1901, II., Pl. 37, 38.
(3) _Jahrbuch d. K. D. Arch. Inst._
W. Dörpfeld, “Anzeiger,” XI. p. 19, 1896.
C. Belger, “Anzeiger,” XI. p. 40, 1896.
Topography of Athens:
General.
M. Leake, _Topography of Athens_, 1821.
M. Leake, _Topography of Athens and the Demi_, 1841.
P. Forchhammer, “Topographie von Athen” (_Kieler Philol.
Studien_). Kiel, 1841.
E. Curtius, “Attische Studien” (_Abhandl. d. Göttinger Ges. d.
Wiss._ XI. XII.) Göttingen, I. 1862; II. 1865.
E. Curtius, _Erläuternder Text der Sieben Karten zur
Topographie von Athen_. Berlin, 1868.
H. G. Lolling, _K. Baedekers Griechenland_, pp. 34-83, 1883.
H. G. Lolling, “Anhang zur Hellenischen Landeskunde und
Topographie” (I. Müller’s _Handb. d. C. A. W._), III. 290.
A. Milchhöfer, “Athen” (Baumeister, _Denkmäler des class.
Alt._, I. p. 144, 1884).
C. Wachsmuth, _Die Stadt Athen im Alterthum_, I. 1874, II. 1890.
C. Wachsmuth, “Neue Beiträge zur Topog. von Athen” (_Abh. d. K.
S. Ges. d. Wiss._, XLI.).
W. Judeich, “Anzeiger von C. Wachsmuth, Stadt Athen,” _Jahrbuch
für Class. Phil._ v. A. Fleckeisen, p. 721, 1890.
Pickard, “Dionysos ἐν Λίμναις.” _Am. J. of Arch._ VIII. p. 56,
1893.
J. Middleton, Plans and drawings of Athenian Buildings, _J.H.S.
Supplement_ III., 1900.
A. Malinin, “Zwei Streitfragen der Topographie v. Athen,” 1901.
O. Jahn and A. Michaelis, _Arx Athenarum a Pausania Descripta_,
1901.
A. Michaelis, _Tabulae Arcem Athenarum illustrantes_, 1901.
E. A. Gardner, _Ancient Athens_, 1902.
H. Lechat, _Au Musée de l’Acropole d’Athènes_, 1902.
H. Lechat, _La Sculpture Attique avant Phidias_, 1904.
C. H. Weller, “The pre-Periclean Propylaea on the Acropolis of
Athens,” _Am. Journ. Arch._, pp. 33-70, Pl. I.-VI., 1904.
Pan’s Cave.
W. Dörpfeld, Report, _Ath. Mitth._ XXI. p. 460, 1897.
P. Kabbadias, Τοπογραφικὰ Ἀθηνῶν, _Ephem. Arch._ XXI. Pl.
I.-IV. pp. 1-32, 1897.
_Bulletin de Corr. Hel._ XX. p. 382.
A. Michaelis, _op. cit._, _Atlas_, Pl. XVII., 1, XVI., 1 _a_.
Pelargikon.
H. Unger, “Enneakrunos und Pelasgikon,” p. 263 (_Sitzungsber.
d. K. Bayer. Akad. d. Wiss. zu München_), 1874.
W. Miller, “A History of the Acropolis of Athens.” _Amer.
Journ. Arch._ VIII. p. 481, 1893.
J. W. White, Περὶ τοῦ Πελαργικοῦ ἐπὶ Περικλέους. Ἐφημερὶς
Ἀρχαιολογική, 1894, p. 2.
G. Nikolaïdes, Περὶ Καλλιρρόης καὶ Ἐννεακρούνου. _Eph. Arch._
1893, p. 176.
W. Dörpfeld, Ἡ Ἐννεάκρουνος καὶ ἡ Καλλιρρόη. _Eph. Arch._ 1894,
p. 1.
Enneakrounos.
A complete list of the scattered and voluminous foreign literature of the
“Enneakrounos Episode” is not given here, because full references will
be found in three books which must necessarily be in the hands of any
one attempting an independent examination of this or any other question
relating to the topography of Athens—these are:
1. H. Hitzig and H. Blümner, _Pausaniae Graeciae Descriptio_,
Berlin, 1896 (for the Enneakrounos episode, I. part 1, pp.
166-172 and pp. 187-191).
2. C. Wachsmuth, “Athenai,” in Pauly-Wissowa,
_Real-Encyclopädie_. Supplement, Erstes Heft, Stuttgart, 1903.
3. W. Judeich, _Topographie von Athen_, München, 1905, in Iwan
von Müller’s _Handbuch d. kl. Altertumswissenschaft_, Band 3,
Abt. 2, Hälfte 2.
The classical sources for the _Enneakrounos_ and other topographical
questions are conveniently collected by Dr Milchhoefer in E. Curtius,
_Die Stadtgeschichte von Athen_, Berlin, 1891.
INDEX.
Acharnae, 14
Acropolis, 135
Aeacus, 147
Aegeus, 50
Aegis, 64
_Agalma_, 52
Aglauros, 33, 34, 49, 81, 100
Agora, 133
Agora, Roman, 138
Agrae, 147
Agrippeion, 99
Agrolas, 24
Ammon, 109
Amphiaraos, 103
Amphictyon, 43
Amphion, 23
Amyneion, 100, 120
Amynos, 104
Anagogia, 110
Anakeion, 34, 100
Antenor, 53
Anthesteria, 99, 100
_Anthesterion_, 7, 84
Aphidna, 6, 14, 148
Aphrodisias, 58
Aphrodite, 110
Aphrodite, armed, 54
Aphrodite Ourania, 151
Aphrodite Pandemos, 82, 105
Apollo Patroös, 76
Apollo Pythios, 76
Apostrophia, 109
_Arai_, 105
Areopagos, 34, 88, 105
Aristoboule, 150
Arrephoria, 50
Arrephoroi, 51
Artemis, 52
Artemis Aristoboule, 144, 151
Artemis Brauronia, 51
Artemis, sanctuary of, 150
Ascalon, 109
Asklepieion, 33, 34
Asklepios, 103
ἀστικὰ Διονύσια, 86
Athena, 39, 53, 54
Athena, Libyan, 64
Athena Nikephoros, 54
Athena Polias, 41, 51, 61
Athenaia, 54
Athenaioi, 53
Athimoneus, 151
_Axiochos_, 113
Baalat, 109
Bakcheion, 91
Basileion, 138
Baths, Wedding, 154
Bdelycleon, 44
Blatta, 109
Blaute, 109
“Blue-beard”, 27
Boreas, 152
Boukoleion, 84
Butadae, 62, 63
Butes, 62
Capitol, 59
Chandler inscription, 46, 49
Choes, 99
Chryse, 45
Chytroi, 88, 99, 105
Citadel, 6
Cyprus, 109
Daedalos, 50
Delphinion, 143
Demeter, 45
Demeter Chloe, 82, 106
Deucalion, 77
Dike, 33
Diokles, 46
Diomeia, 144, 151
Dionysos, 99
Dionysos Eleuthereus, 85, 96
_Dionysos-in-the-Marshes_, 7, 83, 100
Dioscuri, 24, 148
Drama, 99
Dwelling-together, 7
Earth, 61
Eileithyia, 45
Elaphebolion, 85
Eleusinion, 157
Eleusis, 6, 14, 45
Enneakrounos, 35
Enneakrounos Episode, 157
Enneapylon, 35
Epheboi, 51
ἐπίβοιον, 51
Erechtheidae, 53
Erechtheion, 13, 39
Erechtheion, older, 56
Erechtheïs, 58
Erechtheus, 6, 14, 56, 60
Erichthonios, 60
Eridanos, 10, 116
Erinyes, 105
_Eris_, 64
Eryx, 110
Eteobutad, 63
Eukleia, 157
Eumolpos, 6
Eupalinos, 119, 120
Euryalos, 25
Eurymedon, 20
Euthydikos, 53
ἐξιτήρια, 51
Fair-fount, 8
Fidius, 59
Flood, 149
Forum, 134
_Frogs_, 100
Fulgur, 59
Gardens, district of, 151
_Ge_, 7
Ge Kourotrophos, 82, 106
_Gerarae_, 91
Ghosts, 99
Giant, 24
_Gigas_, 22
Goddess, the, 7, 37
Habron, 63
Hadrian, 1
Hadrian, wall of, 152
Harma, 69
Harmodios and Aristogeiton, 87, 156
Harmonia, 108
Hecatompedon, 155
Hellenistic agora, 137
Hephaestos, 62
Hera, 63
Heraion, 63
Herakleion, 146, 151
Herakles, 27
Herakles Alexikakos, 148
Herodes Atticus, 35
Herm, 109, 151
Hermes, 33
Herse, 49
Hersephoria, 50
Hesychidae, 34
Hesychos, 34
_Hippokrates_, 127
Hippolytus, 82, 106
Hydra, 147
Hydrophoros, 56
Hymettus, 25
Hypaethral temples, 59
Hypatos, 54
Hyperbios, 24, 25
ἱερόν, 77
Ilissos, 10, 113, 120, 151, 152
_Iobakcheia_, 85
Iobakchoi, 91
Ion, 43, 80
Ionians, 43
Jupiter, 59
Jupiter-Fulgur, 59
Kadmeia, 23
Kallirrhoë, 116, 129, 143, 153
Karia, 125
Karyatid, 52
Karyatid porch, 41
Karyatids, 46
Katagogia, 110
Kataibates, 59
Kekropia, 7, 43
Kekropidae, 43, 53
Kekrops, 5, 6, 34, 42, 43, 54
Kenchreus, 45
Kerameikos, 138
Keres, 99
Kimon, 11, 14, 18, 19, 21, 51
Kleisthenes, 18, 19
Kleomenes, 25
Klepsydra, 81, 114
Koile, 116, 120
Kolonos, 145
Korae, 46
Κόραι, 52
_Korè_, 52
Korybantes, 149
Kourotrophos, 109
Kranai, 43
Kranaus, 43
Kronia, 151
Kronos, 61, 79, 151
Kyklopes, 23, 24
Kylon, 124
Kyloneion, 34, 35
Kynosarges, 113, 145
Kythera, 54, 109
Lemnos, 45
Lenaia, 86
Λήναια, 86
Lenaion, 86, 94, 96, 100
_Lenos_, 93
ληνός, 100
Leokorion, 144
_Lesche_, 93, 132
Lesser Mysteries, 147
Libya, 64, 110
_Liknon_, 51
_Limnae_, 88
Limnaios, 125
Lion-gate, 23
Long Rocks, 81
Lycaon, 54
Lycurgos, 63
Lykabettos, 10, 114
_Lysistrata_, 81
Maiden, 3
“Maidens”, 15, 16, 52
Marathon, 145, 151
Marduk, 58
Mary, Virgin, 110
_Mavromati_, 113
Megacles, 35
Megara, 123
Meilichios, 79
Melek, 79
Melite, 144, 151
Melos, 148
_Metageitnia_, 144, 151
Metageitnion, 151
_Metastasis_, 151
Meton, 145
μίσθιος, 145
Mouseion, 114, 134
Mycenae, 13
Neaera, 84
Nearchos, 53
Nike Apteros, 50
Nine-Gates, 34
Nine-Spouts, 7
νόθος, 150
Odeion, 130, 157
Odysseus Bastion, 49
οἴκημα, 62
Olive-tree, 56
Olympieion, 141, 143
Oreithyia, 152
Orestes, 105
Ourania, 109
Pallas, 63
Pan, 33
Panathenaic Way, 93, 131, 135, 139
Pandemos, 109
Pandion, 62
Pandroseion, 43, 48
Pandrosos, 50
Paphos, 109, 110
_Parian Chronicle_, 43
Parthenion, Mt., 33
Parthenon, 17, 155
Peisistratos, 18, 25, 35, 64, 101
πέλανοι, 104
Pelargikon, 25
Pelasgians, 25, 43, 153
Pelasgikon, 11, 25
Pentelicus, 10
_Perforatum tectum_, 59
Perikles, 41
Persians, 33
Phalerum, 145
Phenicians, 109
Pherecrates, 87
_Phlegyas_, 23
Pithoigia, 99
πίθος, 100
Pnyx, 10, 88, 114, 133, 145
Polemon, 34
Poliouchos, 45
_Polis_, 6, 7, 135
Polycrates, 119, 120
Porphyrion, 151
Poseidon, 42, 43, 54, 55, 61
Poseidon-Erechtheus, 41
Pot-contests, 88, 99
Proetus, 23
Propylaea, 10, 13
_Protagoras_, 87
_Pythion_, 7, 141, 143
Rhodes, 151
Salamis, 110, 151
Samos, 121
Samothrace, 149
_Saonnesos_, 149
Satyrs, 100
“Sea,” the, 56
Semnae Theai, 34, 100, 105
Serpent, 58
Sisypheion, 24
Sisyphos, 24
Sithnidian nymphs, 125
Skandeia, 109
Solomon’s temple, 58
Solon, 16
Sosipolis, 45
_Staphyle_, 23
Stoa of Attalos, 137, 138
Stoa Basileios, 133, 138
Stoa of the Giants, 138
Stork-fort, 25
Synoikia, 37
Synoikismos, 6
Talos, 34, 50
_Tamtu_, 58
Terminus, 59
θακήματα, 81
Theagenes, 124
Themistocles, 13, 15, 18, 150
_Theoinia_, 85
Theseion, 130, 132, 138, 145
Theseus, 5, 6, 60, 147
Thesmophoria, 50
_Thesmophoriazusae_, 83
Thesmophorion, 157
_Thiasos_, 91
Thoricus, 6, 14
Timaretè, 52
Tiryns, 13
“Tokens,” the, 58
Tower of the Winds, 137
Tragedy, 99
Trident-mark, 42, 56
Triton, 27, 47, 147
Tritonis, 64
τύλη, 56
Turkovouni, 10
Tyndaridae, 148
Typhon, 27, 47
Tyrant slayers, 87
Virgo Caelestis, 109
_Wine-press_, 93
Xanthias, 146
Xanthias-Herakles, 146
Xuthus, 43
Zethus, 23, 24
Zeus, 39, 55
Zeus Hypatos, 54
_Zeus Olympios_, 7
CLASSICAL AUTHORS.
PAGE
Ael. _Hist. An._ VI. 49 155
Alciphron _Ep._ III. 49. 1 156
Amelesagoras ap. _Paradoxogr._ XII. 63 48
Anth. Pal. VI. 280 52
Antigonos _Hist. Mirab._ 12 10
Apollod. III. 14. 1 58
III. 14. 2 43, 55
III. 15. 1 62
_frg._ ap. Zenob. _Cent._ V. 22 148
Apollon. Rhod. I. 736 23
Ar. _Av._ 999 145
_Eq._ 144 and 551 61
_Eq._ 551 63
_Eq._ 1092 135
_Lys._ 175 135
_Lys._ 720 82
_Lys._ 911 81
_Plutus_ 62
_Ran. Hyp._ 87
_Ran._ 216 Schol. 95
_Ran._ 218 87
_Ran._ 501 Schol. 146, 147
_Ran._ 650 146
_Thesm._ 300 83
Aristot. _Hist. An._ VI. 24 155
Athen. XI. 464 F 84
XI. 465 125
Augustine, St, _de civitat. Dei_ 18. 9 55
Clem. Al. _Protr._ III. 45. 39 45
[Dem.] _c. Neaer._ 76 85
_c. Neaer._ 873 84
Dem. LIV. 7 144
Diod. IV. 39 149
V. 42 149
V. 47 149
Eur. _Electra_ 1271 105
_Ion_ 21-26 48
_Ion_ 154 28
_Ion_ 492 81
Herod. I. 59 64
II. 50 64
III. 60 119
IV. 188-189 64
V. 64 25
V. 82 61
VI. 41 48
VI. 116 145
VI. 137 25, 113
VII. 41 48
VII. 140 1
VIII. 41 45
VIII. 44 43
VIII. 52 33
VIII. 55 55
Hesiod _frg._ ap. Strab. IX. 9. 393 45
Hierocles _de Hippiatr. praef._ 154
Homer _Iliad_ II. 546 60
_Iliad_ II. 547 44
_Iliad_ II. 765 23
_Od._ VII. 80, 81 60
_Od._ XI. 594 24
Isaeus _Or._ VIII. 35 97
Kallimachos _Hekale_ frg. 44, 95
Klearchos ap. Athen. XIII. 2. 555 55
Lycophron, _Alex._ 431 and Schol. ad loc. 62
Lydus _de mens._ 109
Lucian _Bis Accus._ 9 33
_Piscat._ 42 34
_Piscat._ 46 31
Ovid _Fast._ II. 667 59
Paus. I. 3. 6 44
I. 8. 5 156
I. 8. 6 98
I. 14. 1 112, 114
I. 14. 2 147
I. 14. 7 151
I. 18. 2 49
I. 18. 6, 7 141
I. 19. 1 143
I. 19. 2 151
I. 19. 3 146
I. 19. 5 152
I. 20. 3 83
I. 21. 4 53
I. 22. 3 82, 106
I. 22. 5 50
I. 24. 7 45
I. 26. 5 58
I. 26. 30 58
I. 27. 2 49
I. 28. 3 24
I. 40. 1 124
II. 5. 1 54
II. 16. 5 23
II. 25. 7 23
III. 15. 10 54
III. 21. 10 54
V. 14. 10 59
VI. 20. 2-4 45
VIII. 2. 3 54
VIII. 10. 4 58
IX. 5. 6 23
IX. 16. 3, 108 108
Phanodemus ap. Athen. XI. 465 A 96
Philostratos _Vit. Soph._ II. 5. 4 p. 550 70, 99
Plato _Kritias_ 112 10
_Lysis_ 205 C 148
_Parmenid._ 144
_Phaedr._ 229 A 152
_Protag._ 327 87
_Rep._ VII. 514 129
_Rep._ 515 B 129
_Symp._ 180 D 108
Pliny _Nat. Hist._ IV. 7. 11 156
_Nat. Hist._ VII. 57 24
Plut. _de Exil._ VI. 144
_de Is. et Osir._ XXXII. 27
_de sollert. an._ XIII. 155
_Vit. Cat._ V. 155
_Vit. Demetr._ 26 147
_Vit. Cim._ 13 20
_Vit. Them._ 1 150
_Vit. Them._ 22 144
_Vit. Thes._ 33 148
_Vit. Solon._ 12 35
Ps. Plut. _Vit. X. Orat._ 843 63
_Vit. X. Orat._ 6 98
Polemon ap. Schol. _Oed. Col._ 489 34
Polyzelos _frg._ 154
Porphyr. _de Abst._ II. 54 151
Sophocles _Philoctet._ 1327 45
Strabo VIII. 21. 379 24
IX. 2. 404 69
X. 471 150
X. 472 149
Tarantinos, _see_ Hierocles 154
Theodoretus _Graec. affect. cur._ VIII. 30. 908 45
Thucyd. I. 5. 10 6
I. 126 35
I. 2 63
II. 15 5
II. 17 30
Tzetzes _Chil._ V. 19 44
Varro _Ling. Lat._ V. 66 59
Virgil _Aen._ IX. 448, Servius ad loc. 59
Vitruvius I. 2. 5 59
Xen. _Hell._ VI. 3. 6 148
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