A Day In Old Athens

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4. The Physical Beauty of Attica.--Yet Attica had advantages which
more than counterbalanced this grudging of fertility. All Greece,
to be sure, was favored by the natural beauty of its atmosphere,
seas, and mountains, but Attica was perhaps the most favored portion
of all, Around her coasts, rocky often and broken by pebbly beaches
and little craggy peninsulas, surged the deep blue Aegean, the most
glorious expanse of ocean in the world. Far away spread the azure
water[*],--often foam-crested and sometimes alive with the dolphins
leaping at their play,--reaching towards a shimmering sky line
where rose "the isles of Greece," masses of green foliage, or else
of tawny rock, scattered afar, to adapt the words of Homer, "like
shields laid on the face of the glancing deep."

[*]The peculiar blueness of the water near Attica is probably caused
by the clear rocky bottom of the sea, as well as by the intensity
of the sunlight.

Above the sea spread the noble arch of the heavens,--the atmosphere
often dazzlingly bright, and carrying its glamour and sparkle almost
into the hearts of men. The Athenians were proud of the air about
their land. Their poets gladly sung its praises, as, for example,
Euripides[*], when he tells how his fellow countrymen enjoy being--

Ever through air clear shining brightly
As on wings uplifted, pacing lightly.

[*]Medea:829.

5. The Mountains of Attica.--The third great element, besides the
sea and the atmosphere of Athens, was the mountains. One after
another the bold hills reared themselves, cutting short all the
plainlands and making the farmsteads often a matter of slopes and
terraces. Against the radiant heavens these mountains stood out
boldly, clearly; revealing all the little gashes and seams left from
that long-forgotten day when they were flung forth from the bowels
of the earth. None of these mountains was very high: Hymettus,
the greatest, was only about 3500 feet; but rising as they often
did from a close proximity to the sea, and not from a dwarfing
table-land, even the lower hills uplifted themselves with proud
majesty.

These hills were of innumerable tints according to their rocks,
the hue of the neighboring sea, and the hour of the day. In spring
they would be clothed in verdant green, which would vanish before
the summer heats, leaving them rosy brown or gray. But whatever
the fundamental tone, it was always brilliant; for the Athenians
lived in a land where blue sky, blue sea, and the massive rock blent
together into such a galaxy of shifting color, that, in comparison,
the lighting of almost any northern or western landscape would
seem feeble and tame. The Athenians absorbed natural beauty with
their native air.

6. The Sunlight in Athens.--The Athenian loved sunshine, and Helios
the Sun God was gracious to his prayers. In the Athens of to-day
it is reckoned that the year averages 179 days in which the sun is
not concealed by clouds one instant; and 157 days more when the sun
is not hidden more than half an hour[*]. Ancient Athens was surely
not more cloudy. Nevertheless, despite this constant sunshine and
a southern latitude, Athens was stricken relatively seldom with
semitropical heat. The sea was a good friend, bringing tempering
breezes. In the short winter there might be a little frost, a
little snow, and a fair supply of rain. For the rest of the year,
one golden day was wont to succeed another, with the sun and the
sea breeze in ever friendly rivalry.

[*]The reason for these many clear days is probably because when
the moist west and southwest winds come in contact with the dry,
heated air of the Attic plain, they are at once volatilized and
dispersed, not condensed (as in northern lands); therefore the day
resolves itself into brilliant sunshine.

The climate saved the Athenians from being obliged to wage a stern
warfare with nature as did the northern peoples. Their life and
civilization could be one developed essentially "in the open air";
while, on the other hand, the bracing sea breeze saved them from
that enervating lethargy which has ruined so many southern folk.
The scanty soil forced them to struggle hard to win a living; unless
they yielded to the constant beckoning of the ocean, and sought
food, adventure, wealth, and a great empire across the seas.

7. The Topography of the City of Athens.--So much for the land of
Attica in general; but what of the setting of the city of Athens
itself? The city lay in a plain, somewhat in the south central
part of Attica, and about four miles back from the sea. A number
of mountains came together to form an irregular rectangle with the
Saronic Gulf upon the south. To the east of Athens stretched the
long gnarled ridge of Hymettus, the wildest and grayest mountain
in Attica, the home of bees and goatherds, and (if there be faith
in pious legend) of innumerable nymphs and satyrs. To the west
ran the lower, browner mountains, Aegaleos, across which a road (the
"Sacred Way") wound through an easy pass towards Eleusis, the only
sizable town in Attica, outside of Athens and its harbors. To the
rear of the plain rose a noble pyramid, less jagged than Hymettus,
more lordly than Aegaleos; its summits were fretted with a white which
turned to clear rose color under the sunset. This was Pentelicus,
from the veins whereof came the lustrous marble for the master
sculptor. Closer at hand, nearer the center of the plain, rose
a small and very isolated hill,--Lycabettus, whose peaked summit
looked down upon the roofs of Athens. And last, but never least,
about one mile southwest of Lycabettus, upreared a natural monument
of much greater frame,--not a hill, but a colossal rock. Its
shape was that of an irregular oval; it was about 1000 feet long,
500 feet wide, and its level summit stood 350 feet above the plain.
This steep, tawny rock, flung by the Titans, one might dream,
into the midst of the Attic plain, formed one of the most famous
sites in the world, for it was the Acropolis of Athens. Its full
significance, however, must be explained later. From the Acropolis
and a few lesser hills close by, the land sloped gently down towards
the harbors and the Saronic Bay.

These were the great features of the outward setting of Athens. One
might add to them the long belt of dark green olive groves winding
down the westward side of the plain, where the Cephisus (which
along among Attic rivulets did not run dry in summer) ran down to
the sea. There was also a shorter olive belt west of the city,
where the weaker Ilissus crept, before it lost itself amid the
thirsty fields.

Sea, rock, and sky, then, joined together around Athens as around
almost no other city in the world. The landscape itself was adjusted
to the eye with marvelous harmony. The colors and contours formed
one glorious model for the sculptor and the painter, one perpetual
inspiration for the poet. Even if Athens had never been the seat
of a famous race, she would have won fame as being situated in one
of the most beautiful localities in the world. Rightly, therefore, did
its dwellers boast of their city as the "Violet-crowned" (Iostephanos).

8. 360 B.C.--The Year of the Visit to Athens.--This city let us
visit in the days of its greatest outward glory. We may select the
year 360 B.C. At that time Athens had recovered from the ravages
of the Peloponnesian War, while the Macedonian peril had not as
yet become menacing. The great public buildings were nearly all
completed. No signs of material decadence were visible, and if
Athens no longer possessed the wide naval empire of the days of
Pericles, her fleets and her armies were still formidable. The
harbors were full of commerce; the philosophers were teaching their
pupils in the groves and porticoes; the democratic constitution was
entirely intact. With intelligent vision we will enter the city
and look about us.

Chapter II. The First Sights in Athens.

9. The Morning Crowds bound for Athens.--It is very early in the
morning. The sun has just pushed above the long ridge of Hymettus,
sending a slanting red bar of light across the Attic plain, and
touching the opposite slopes of Aegaleos with livid fire. Already,
however, life is stirring outside the city. Long since, little
market boats have rowed across the narrow strait from Salamis,
bringing the island farmer's produce, and other farmers from the
plain and the mountain slopes have started for market. In the
ruddy light the marble temples on the lofty Acropolis rising ahead
of these hurrying rustics are standing out clearly; the spear
and helmet of the great brazen statue of the Athena Promachos are
flashing from the noble citadel, as a kind of day beacon, beckoning
onward toward the city. From the Peireus, the harbor town, a
confused him of mariners lading and unlading vessels is even now
rising, but we cannot turn ourselves thither. Our route is to
follow the farmers bound for market.

The most direct road from the Peireus to Athens is hidden indeed,
for it leads between the towering ramparts of the "Long Walls,"
two mighty barriers which run parallel almost four miles from the
inland city to the harbor, giving a guarded passage in wartime and
making Athens safe against starvation from any land blockade; but
there is an outside road leading also to Athens from the western
farmsteads, and this we can conveniently follow. Upon this route
the crowd which one meets is certainly not aristocratic, but it
is none the less Athenian. Here goes a drover, clad in skins, his
legs wound with woolen bands in lieu of stockings; before him and
his wolf-like dog shambles a flock of black sheep or less manageable
goats, bleating and baaing as they are propelled toward market.
After him there may come an unkempt, long-bearded farmer flogging on
a pack ass or a mule attached to a clumsy cart with solid wheels,
and laden with all kinds of market produce. The roadway, be it
said, is not good, and all carters have their troubles; therefore,
there is a deal of gesticulating and profane invocation of Hermes
and all other gods of traffic; for, early as it is, the market
place is already filling, and every delay promises a loss. There
are still other companions bound toward the city: countrymen
bearing cages of poultry; others engaged in the uncertain calling
of driving pigs; swarthy Oriental sailors, with rings in their
ears, bearing bales of Phoenician goods from the Peireus; respectable
country gentlemen, walking gravely in their best white mantles
and striving to avoid the mud and contamination; and perhaps also
a small company of soldiers, just back from foreign service, passes,
clattering shields and spear staves.

10. The Gate and the Street Scenes.--The crowds grow denser
as everybody approaches the frequented "Peireus Gate," for nearly
all of Attica which lies within easy reach of Athens has business
in the Market Place every morning. On passing the gate a fairly
straight way leads through the city to the market, but progress for
the multitude becomes slow. If it is one of the main thoroughfares,
it is now very likely to be almost blocked with people. There are
few late risers at Athens; the Council of Five Hundred[*], the huge
Jury Courts, and the Public Assembly (if it has met to-day[+]) are
appointed to gather at sunrise. The plays in the theater, which,
however, are given only on certain festivals, begin likewise at
sunrise. The philosophers say that "the man who would accomplish
great things must be up while yet it is dark." Athenians, therefore,
are always awake and stirring at an hour when men of later ages and
more cold and foggy climes will be painfully yawning ere getting
out of bed.

[*]The "Boule," the great standing committee of the Athenian people
to aid the magistrates in the government.

[+]In which case, of course, the regular courts and the Council
would hardly meet.

The Market Place attracts the great masses, but by no means all;
hither and thither bevies of sturdy slave girls, carrying graceful
pitchers on their heads, are hurrying towards the fountains which
gush cool water at most of the street corners. Theirs is a highly
necessary task, for few or no houses have their own water supply;
and around each fountain one can see half a dozen by no means
slatternly maidens, splashing and flirting the water one at another,
while they wait their turn with the pitchers, and laugh and exchange
banter with the passing farmers' lads. Many in the street crowds
are rosy-cheeked schoolboys, walking decorously, if they are lads
of good breeding, and blushing modestly when they are greeted
by their fathers' acquaintances. They do not loiter on the way.
Close behind, carrying their writing tablets, follow the faithful
'pedagogues,' the body-servants appointed to conduct them to
school, give them informal instruction, and, if need be, correct
their faults in no painless manner. Besides the water maids
and the schoolboys, from the innumerable house doors now opening
the respective masters are stepping forth--followed by one, two,
or several serving varlets, as many as their wealth affords. All
these join in the crowd entering from the country. "Athenian
democracy" always implies a goodly amount of hustling and pushing.
No wonder the ways are a busy sight!

11. The Streets and House Fronts of Athens.--Progress is slower near
the Market Place because of the extreme narrowness of the streets.
They are only fifteen feet wide or even less,--intolerable alleys
a later age would call them,--and dirty to boot. Sometimes they
are muddy, more often extremely dusty. Worse still, they are
contaminated by great accumulations of filth; for the city is without
an efficient sewer system or regular scavengers. Even as the crowd
elbows along, a house door will frequently open, an ill-favored
slave boy show his head, and with the yell, "Out of the way!" slap
a bucket of dirty water into the street. There are many things to
offend the nose as well as the eyes of men of a later race. It is
fortunate indeed that the Athenians are otherwise a healthy folk,
or they would seem liable to perpetual pestilence; even so, great
plagues have in past years harried the city[*].

[*]The most fearful thereof was the great plague of 430 B.C. (during
the Peloponnesian War), which nearly ruined Athens.

The first entrance to Athens will thus bring to a stranger, full of
the city's fame and expectant of meeting objects of beauty at every
turn, almost instant disappointment. The narrow, dirty, ill-paved
streets are also very crooked. One can readily be lost in a
labyrinth of filthy little lanes the moment one quits the few main
thoroughfares. High over head, to be sure, the red crags of the
Acropolis may be towering, crowned with the red, gold, and white
tinted marble of the temples, but all around seems only monotonous
squalor. The houses seem one continuous series of blank walls;
mostly of one, occasionally of two stories, and with flat roofs.
These walls are usually spread over with some dirty gray or perhaps
yellow stucco. For most houses, the only break in the street walls
are the simple doors, all jealously barred and admitting no glance
within. There are usually no street windows, if the house is only
one story high. If it has two stories, a few narrow slits above
the way may hint that here are the apartments for the slaves or
women. There are no street numbers. There are often no street
names. "So-and-so lives in such-and-such a quarter, near the
Temple of Heracles;" that will enable you to find a householder,
after a few tactful questions from the neighbors; and after all,
Athens is a relatively small city[*] (as great cities are reckoned),
very closely built, and her regular denizens do not feel the need
of a directory.

[*]Every guess at the population of Athens rests on mere conjecture;
yet, using the scanty data which we possess, it seems possible
that THE POPULATION OF ALL ATTICA at the height of its prosperity
was about 200,000 FREE PERSONS (including the METICS--resident
foreigners without citizenship); and a rather smaller number of
slaves--say 150,000 or less. Of this total of some 350,000, probably
something under one half resided in the city of Athens during times
of peace, the rest in the outlying farms and villages. ATHENS MAY
BE IMAGINED AS A CITY OF ABOUT 150,000--possibly a trifle more.
During serious wars there would be of course a general removal into
the city.

So the crowd elbows its way onward: now thinning, now gaining,
but the main stream always working towards the Market Place.

12. The Simplicity of Athenian Life.--It is clear we are entering
a city where nine tenths of what the twentieth century will consider
the "essential conveniences" of life are entirely lacking; where
men are trying to be civilized--or, as the Greeks would say, to lay
hold upon "the true, the beautiful, and the good," without even the
absolute minimum of those things which people of a later age will
believe separate a "civilized man" from a "barbarian." The gulf
between old Athens and, for instance, new Chicago is greater than
is readily supposed[*]. It is easy enough to say that the Athenians
lacked such things as railways, telephones, gas, grapefruit,
and cocktails. All such matters we realize were not known by our
fathers and grandfathers, and we are not yet so removed from THEM
that we cannot transport ourselves in imagination back to the
world of say 1820 A.D.; but the Athenians are far behind even our
grandfathers. When we investigate, we will find conditions like
these--houses absolutely without plumbing, beds without sheets,
rooms as hot or as cold as the outer air, only far more drafty. We
must cross rivers without bridges; we must fasten our clothes (or
rather our "two pieces of cloth") with two pins instead of with
a row of buttons; we must wear sandals without stockings (or go
barefoot); must warm ourselves over a pot of ashes; judge plays or
lawsuits on a cold winter morning sitting in the open air; we must
study poetry with very little aid from books, geography without
real maps, and politics without newspapers; and lastly, "we must
learn how to be civilized without being comfortable!"[+]

[*]See the very significant comment on the physical limitations
of the old Athenian life in Zimmern's "The Greek Commonwealth," p.
209.

[+]Zimmern, ibid.

Or, to reverse the case: we must understand that an Athenian would
have pronounced our boasted "civilization" hopelessly artificial,
and our life so dependent on outward material props and factors
as to be scarcely worth the living. He would declare himself well
able to live happily under conditions where the average American
or Englishman would be cold, semi-starved, and miserable. He would
declare that HIS woe or happiness was retained far more under his own
control than we retain ours, and that we are worthy of contemptuous
pity rather than of admiration, because we have refined our
civilization to such a point that the least accident, e.g. the
suspension of rail traffic for a few days, can reduce a modern city
to acute wretchedness.

Probably neither the twentieth century in its pride, nor the fourth
century B.C. in its contempt, would have all the truth upon its
side.[*] The difference in viewpoint, however, must still stand.
Preeminently Athens may be called the "City of the Simple Life."
Bearing this fact in mind, we may follow the multitude and enter
the Marketplace; or, to use the name that stamps it as a peculiarly
Greek institution,--the Agora.

[*]The mere matter of CLIMATE would of course have to come in as
a serious factor. The Athenian would have found his life becoming
infinitely more complex along the material side when he tried
to live like a "kalos-k'agathos"--i.e. a "noble and good man," or
a "gentleman,"--in a land where the thermometer might sink to 15 degrees
below zero Fahrenheit (or even lower) from time to time during the
winter.

Chapter III. The Agora and its Denizens.

13. The Buildings around the Agora.--Full market time![*] The great
plaza of the Agora is buzzing with life. The contrast between the
dingy, dirty streets and this magnificent public plaza is startling.
The Athenians manifestly care little for merely private display,
rather they frown upon it; their wealth, patriotism, and best
artistic energy seem all lavished upon their civic establishments
and buildings.

[*]Between nine and twelve A.M.

The Agora is a square of spacious dimensions, planted here and
there with graceful bay trees. Its greatest length runs north and
south. Ignoring for the time the teeming noisy swarms of humanity,
let our eyes be directed merely upon the encircling buildings. The
place is almost completely enclosed by them, although not all are
of equal elegance or pretension. Some are temples of more or less
size, like the temple of the "Paternal Apollo" near the southwestern
angle; or the "Metroon," the fane of Cybele "the Great Mother
of the Gods," upon the south. Others are governmental buildings;
somewhat behind the Metroon rise the imposing pillars of the Council
House, where the Five Hundred are deliberating on the policy of
Athens; and hard by that is the Tholos, the "Round House," with a
peaked, umbrella-shaped roof, beneath which the sacred public hearth
fire is ever kept burning, and where the presiding Committee of
the Council[*] and certain high officials take their meals, and a
good deal of state business is transacted. The majority of these
buildings upon the Agora, however, are covered promenades, porticoes,
or stoe.

[*]This select committee was known technically as the "Prytanes."

The stoe are combinations of rain shelters, shops, picture galleries,
and public offices. Turn under the pillars of the "Royal Stoa"
upon the west, and you are among the whispering, nudging, intent
crowd of listeners, pushing against the barriers of a low court.
Long rows of jurors are sitting on their benches; the "King Archon"
is on the president's stand, and some poor wight is being arraigned
on a charge of "Impiety"[*]; while on the walls behind stand graved
and ancient laws of Draco and Solon.

[*]The so-called "King Archon" had special cognizance of most cases
involving religious questions; and his court was in this stoa.

Cross the square, and on the opposite side is one of the most
magnificent of the porticoes, the "Painted Porch" ("Stoa Poikile"),
a long covered walk, a delightful refuge alike from sun and rain.
Almost the entire length of the inner walls (for it has columns
only on the side of the Agora) is covered with vivid frescoes. Here
Polygnotus and other master painters have spread out the whole
legendary story of the capture of Troy and of the defeat of the
Amazons; likewise the more historical tale of the battle of Marathon.
Yet another promenade, the "Stoa of Zeus," is sacred to Zeus, Giver
of Freedom. The walls are not frescoed, but hung with the shields
of valiant Athenian warriors.

In the open spaces of the plaza itself are various alters, e.g. to
the "Twelve Gods," and innumerable statues of local worthies, as
of Harmodius and Aristogeiton, the tyrant-slayers; while across the
center, cutting the Market Place from east to west, runs a line of
stone posts, each surmounted with a rude bearded head of Hermes,
the trader's god; and each with its base plastered many times over
with all kinds of official and private placards and notices.

14. The Life in the Agora.--So much for the physical setting of
the Agora: of far greater interest surely are the people. The
whole square is abounding with noisy activity. If an Athenian has
no actual business to transact, he will at least go to the Agora
to get the morning news. Two turns under the "Painted Porch" will
tell him the last rumor as to the foreign policy of Thebes; whether
it is true that old King Agesilaus has died at Sparta; whether corn
is likely to be high, owning to a failure of crops in the Euxine
(Black Sea) region; whether the "Great King" of Persia is prospering
in his campaign against Egypt. The crowd is mostly clad in white,
though often the cloaks of the humbler visitors are dirty, but there
is a sprinkling of gay colors,--blue, orange, and pink. Everybody
is talking at once in melodious Attic; everybody (since they are
all true children of the south) is gesticulating at once. To the
babel of human voices is added the wheezing whistle of donkeys,
the squealing of pigs, the cackle of poultry. Besides, from many
of the little factories and workshops on or near the Agora a great
din is rising. The clamor is prodigious. Criers are stalking
up and down the square, one bawling out that Andocides has lost a
valuable ring and will pay well to recover it; another the Pheidon
has a desirable horse that he will sell cheap. One must stand
still for some moments and let eye and ear accustom themselves to
such utter confusion.

15. The Booths and Shops in the Agora.--At length out of the chaos
there seems to emerge a certain order. The major part of the square
is covered with little booths of boards and wicker work, very frail
and able to be folded up, probably every night. There are little
lanes winding amid these booths; and each manner of huckster has
its own especial "circle" or section of the market. "Go to the
wine," "to the fish," "to the myrtles" (i.e. the flowers), are
common directions for finding difficult parts of the Agora. Trade
is mostly on a small scale,--the stock of each vendor is distinctly
limited in its range, and Athens is without "department stores." Behind
each low counter, laden with its wares, stands the proprietor, who
keeps up a din from leathern lungs: "Buy my oil!" "Buy charcoal!"
"Buy sausage!" etc., until he is temporarily silenced while dealing
with a customer.

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