Imatges de pàgina
PDF
EPUB

HISTORY OF GREECE.

BOOK I.

THE FORMATION OF HELLAS.

CHAPTER I.

PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY OF CONTINENTAL HELLAS.

WHEN we speak of Greece and the Greeks, we use names which the Romans gave to the country separated from the peninsula of Italy by the Ionian Sea, and to a people who called themselves Hellenes, and whose richest and most splendid cities rose on the coasts and islands of the Egean Sea. But for the Greeks of the historical ages there was no country called Hellas, or Greece, which could be described as lying within any marked geographical limits; and it was merely for the sake of convenience that Greek geographers made a distinction between the lands which they regarded as the continuous or continental Hellas, and the scattered (or sporadic) Hellas of the Egean Sea, and of the Asiatic, Sicilian, or other coasts. By the continental Hellas they meant the lands lying to the south of a line stretching due west from the vale of Tempe to the mouth of the Hadriatic Sea.

In this country, the area of which is less than that of Ireland or of Portugal, the plains or lowlands fill but a little space in proportion to the huge masses of mountains rising in vast ranges from east to west and from north to south. Of

B

these the loftiest is Olympos, 10,000 feet in height, which with its neighbouring hills forms the northern wall or rampart of the great plain of Thessaly. This plain, which may be roughly described as a square of sixty miles, is shut in to the west by the chain of Pindos, which runs southward at right angles from the Kambounian and Olympian mountains. From this western rampart, at a distance of about sixty miles from the Kambounian range, the southern barrier juts off, and running eastwards under the names of Tymphrestos and Othrys, ends in the highlands between the bay of Malea and the gulf of Pagasai. From the latter northwards to the vale of Tempe, the eastern wall of the Thessalian plain is formed by the mountains of Pelion and Ossa, between which and the sea stretches the narrow strip of coastland called Magnesia, terrible for its ruggedness and its storms. The waters of this mountainlocked basin are drained by the stream of Peneios through the beautiful vale which separates Ossa from Olympos.

The rest of the country to the north of the Corinthian Gulf is little more than a wilderness of mountain, ravine, and glen. The largest piece of open land is the fertile valley of the Spercheios, shut in to the west by mount Oita, to the north by Othrys, and to the south by the outlying hills which shoot out from the central mass of Parnassos, the sacred abode of the god of prophecy and song. To the south-west of this happier region lay the rugged fastnesses of the Etolian and Akarnanian tribes, which still shelter a marauding and lawless population, while the range of Parnassos, continued to the east under the names of Helikon and Kithairon, shuts off Phokis and Boiotia to the north from Attica on its southern side.

Kithairon, the easternmost of these mountains, forms with Parnes, from which it is separated by the pass of Phylê, the northern wall of Attica which stretches from the Corinthian gulf to the headland of Rhamnous, and rises up as the background of the plain of Marathon.

Scarcely less broken and rugged is the surface of the peninsula known as the Peloponnesos to the south of the Gulf of Corinth. Across the Corinthian isthmus the ridges of Aigiplanktos and Geraneia run as a backbone, and are connected by the Akrokorinthos with the labryinth of mountains which rise up as an impregnable fortress in the heart of the peninsula, To the north of this rugged and barren region, inhabited by the

Arkadian tribes, lay the long and narrow strip of land to which in historical times the name of Achaia was confined. To the south the huge chain of Taygetos, running almost due south and dividing the southern half of the Peloponnese into two nearly equal portions, formed a barrier between the valley of the Eurotas, the home of the Spartans, on the one side, and the splendidly fertile plains of Messenia on the other. In a parallel line about thirty miles to the east of Taygetos, another range, under the names of Parnon, Thornax, and Zarex, shuts off a strip of land more nearly resembling Magnesia than the less broken lowlands of Achaia.

We learn without surprise that less than half of this land of mountains is even capable of cultivation; and although it was more carefully tilled 2,000 years ago than it is now, much of this better soil even at the best of times probably lay idle. Of the hills many are altogether barren, while others, if not well wooded, supply pasture for flocks, when the lowlands are burnt up in summer. We can also well understand that these great mountains raised an effectual barrier between the inhabitants of valleys which, as the crow flies, would be at no great distance apart. Large rivers might indeed have supplied the place of roads; but the Greek streams are for the most part raging torrents in winter and dry beds in summer, and their very names, Cheimarroi and Charadrai, merely denote the fury with which they carry off the mountain drainage in the rainy season, as they cleave their way through the limestone rocks.

The geographical features of such a country as this would of themselves lead us to suppose that the habitable parts would be held by tribes not caring to have much to do with each other, and guarding their independence with the most jealous care. In fact, there was one circumstance only which prevented them from sinking to the level of their half-civilised or wholly savage neighbours of Thrace or Epeiros. Lacking in great measure the means of communication by land, they were almost everywhere within reach of the sea; and their country, with an area less than that of Portugal, afforded a coast line equal to that of the whole Spanish peninsula. The island of Euboia alone, with the opposite shores of the mainland, furnishes a coast line of not less than 300 miles in length, while the strait of the Euripos separating it from Boiotia was narrow enough to be spanned by a bridge. So, again, an isthmus only

three miles and a-half in width formed a neck between the Saronic and the Corinthian gulfs, and afforded to merchants and travellers a means of speedy transit which may be compared with the passage across the isthmus of Panama, as contrasted with the dangerous voyage round Cape Horn. Singularly happy in its situation, Attica was practically an island from which ships could issue in all directions, while they could bar access through the narrow strait of the Euripos. Two Greek states alone (the Dorians to the north of the Corinthian gulf, and the Arkadians in the heart of the Peloponnesos) had no outlet to the sea; and these states remained far in the rear of their neighbours generally.

The maritime cities were, indeed, exposed at first to much danger from roving pirates; but against these attacks they could guard themselves by walls, and the result was that these cities had been enclosed within fortifications, while the inland tribes continued to live in scattered villages. They had in fact parted company, and were journeying in different directions. The inland Greek lived and died among his native hills, probably never moving many miles from his birthplace, and handing on to his children nothing more than the stock of impressions and ideas which he had inherited from a long line of forefathers. The Greek of the busy cities which studded the coasts was constantly brought into contact with strangers from distant countries, which he in turn was constantly visiting. He was therefore obliged to suit himself to modes of thought and habits of life differing widely from those of his own people. Hence the circle of his ideas was constantly widening, and the comparisons suggested by his experience in foreign lands were not always favourable to the state of things which he had left at home. Still all that the Greek of the maritime cities saw of the working of political institutions elsewhere made him the more resolute in maintaining his freedom at home; and as he knew no society higher or wider than the city to which he belonged, the state of things which he saw in Egypt or Assyria only led him to cling more jealously to the conditions by which alone, as he believed, his freedom could be secured. Hence having risen to the idea of a Polis or city as an independent state, he never advanced beyond it.

For the growth of communities confined within these selfimposed limits no country was ever more suited than that of

« AnteriorContinua »