The first of the tomb-stones found in the Acropolis above the sepulchres (p. 52) shows (very imperfectly) a hunter standing in a one-horse chariot: he grips in his right a long broadsword. The second tomb-stone (p. 81) has a naked warrior, who holds the horse’s head with his right, and raises in his left a double-edged blade (fig. 251): Dr. Schliemann finds the figure ‘full of anguish’ (p. 84); the head is in profile, and the body almost fronts the spectator. The huntsman-charioteer holds in his left a sheathed Sword of the long dagger type, ending in a large globular pommel. Many such articles were found in the tombs, and the author (p. 225) draws attention to the size of the ‘knob’ upon the signet ring. Mostly they were of wood or alabaster (p. 281) with golden nails, and frequently plated with precious metal. I would suggest that the perforated ball of polished rock-crystal (No. 307) found in Sepulchre III., and the large-mouthed article (No. 308) coloured red and white inside, were also Sword-pommels.

The Treasury supplied ‘five unornamental blades of copper or bronze,’ with rings of the same metal. The large Cyclopean house, which the energetic discoverer would identify with the Palace of the Atreidæ, yielded a straight, two-edged, thrusting-blade of bronze: the shoulders were pierced with four holes, and there are as many in the tang for attaching the handle (fig. 252). The heft was of various substances, wood, bone, and ivory, amber, rock-crystal, and alabaster, and it was often plated with metals, especially the most precious. Of the latter, six specimens are given (pp. 270–71), all highly decorated with intaglio work of circles and spirals, rope-bands, and shell-like quaquaversal flutings.

The general opinion that Homer ignored soldering[817] gives unusual interest to a large bronze dagger found in No. III. Sepulchre, six mètres and a half below the surface (p. 164). Two blades are well soldered together in the middle (fig. 253). The same art appears (p. 280) in the attachment of two long narrow plates of thick bronze. Crickets (cicadæ) and other ornaments were also found of gold worked in repoussé and composed of two halves soldered together.

The goldsmiths of Mycenæ were true artists. They had work in plenty; Dr. Schliemann estimates the metallic value of his finds at five thousand pounds. An admirable bit of work (p. 251) is the goat standing, like that of Assyria and Istria, with gathered legs upon the top of a pin.[818] Another (No. 365) is the lion-cub, apparently cut and tooled. As in modern India, the circles, spirals, and wave-lines are excellently executed, and so is the gold-plating upon buttons of wood (pp. 258–59). The old Greek city, too, had a peculiar treatment of the whorl, which, combining two and even three—either dextrorsum or sinistrorsum—about a common centre, and making the lines of at least two continuous, deserves to be called the ‘Mycenæ spiral.’ This ornament passes from the gold trinkets and the tomb-stones of the Acropolis to the ‘Treasuries’ of much later date.

An intaglio of gold is especially interesting, because it represents a Monomachía or duel. He to the proper right, a tall beardless or shaven warrior, without helmet, and clad only in ‘tights’ and ‘shorts,’ bears the whole weight of his body upon his left leg, extending the right, as in a lunge, and is about to plunge his straight and pointed dagger-blade into the throat of his bearded foe (p. 174). A signet-ring displays a gigantic warrior who has felled one opponent, put to flight a second, and is stabbing a third with a short broad straight blade. The vanquished man attempts to defend himself with a long Xiphos (p. 225). Perhaps the subject may be Theseus clearing out the thieves. A gold button shows a square formed by four sacrificial chopper-knives of Egyptian shape (p. 263, No. 397).

The characteristics of the Sepulchres are the orientation of the remains, the heads lying to the East, and their imperfect cremation. The latter is familiar in Hindú-land, although the people hold the fire-funeral to be a fire-birth, when the vital principle called ‘soul’ or ‘spirit’ has been purged of its earthly dross. The regular layers of pebbles, which by ventilating the floor would give draught to the flames, have also been noticed in ancient Etruria.[819] The only viaticum or provisions for the dead were unopened oysters: the rest was probably burnt. The utensils are jugs and vases of terra cotta (plain and painted), copper tripods and cauldrons, urns and kettles, and cups and goblets, the latter one- and two-handed. The ornaments, of gold and electrum, are foil-work and plates upon wood, beads of glass and agate, studs and buttons, crosses and breast-covers, lentoid gems and masks, crowns and diadems. The weapons, all of bronze,[820] are axes and arrows, lances, knives, daggers, and Sword-blades; while gold and alloys are abundant. We may fairly say that iron is absent from the Acropolis of Mycenæ as well as from the Burnt City of the Troad. And there is a remarkable similarity in the pattern and construction of sundry articles, especially the gold tubes with attached spirals.

Dr. Schliemann’s discoveries have been subjected to much adverse criticism.[821] As far as they go, they prove that the warriors of Mycenæ used three varieties of Swords—the Xiphos, the Phásganon, and the Kopis.

The ξίφος of Mycenæ is the long, straight, rapier-shaped, cut-and-thrust (cæsim et punctim) blade; its only guard is a cross-bar, which, like the scabbard, is beautifully ornamented. The word Xiphos is still applied in Romaic to a straight Sword opposed to Spati (Σπάτι),[822] the sabre, the broadsword.

The φάσγανον or dirk which Meyrick (Pl. IV. fig. 16), and sometimes perhaps the Ancients, confound with the Xiphos, is a straight blade, mostly leaf-shaped and showing its descent from the spear. It is rarely longer than twenty inches. In Romaic poetry the word is still applied to knives and Sword-daggers like the Yataghan. My idea that the Phásganon was used for throwing does not derive from the classics, but from the similarity of the blade to the Seax and the Scramasax.

The Κοπίς, which Meyrick makes an Argive weapon, and which English translators render simply by ‘Sword,’ has been derived by me from the Egyptian Khopsh, whose ‘inside cutting curve’ it imitates, merely flattening the bend. Writers on hoplology have mostly ignored its origin. They follow Xenophon, who speaks of it as being used by the Persians and Barbarians; and Polybius, who assigns its use to the Persians before the Greeks—apparently an anachronism. They remark that on vases it is the weapon of the Giants, not of the Gods, and that the Amazons wield it against Hercules. Hence Señor Soromenho[823] would assign its origin to the Arabs, and Colonel A. Lane-Fox to the Roman legionaries. The latter authority, indeed, contends that its form is ‘obviously derived from the straight, leaf-shaped, bronze sword, of which it is simply a curved variety.’ Here, I think, he reverses the process. Specimens of the Kopis are rare; one was found in a tomb, said to be Roman, between Madrid and Toledo, and another of the same find is in the British Museum.

The peculiarity of the Kopis is, I have said, its cutting with the inner, not the outer curve, and thus suggesting the use of the point and the ‘drawing cut’ instead of the sheer cut. This peculiarity was inherited from Egypt, and long appeared in Greek blades. It is well shown in the fragment of a bronze Kopis-like broadsword from the collection of Don Giovanni Bolmarcich, the Arciprete of Cherso: the relic was found in the Island of Ossero with an immense variety of bronzes, Greek,[824] Roman, and prehistoric or proto-historic. General Pitt-Rivers has a bronze Sword-blade from Corinth—a very fine specimen. The handle has an H section, the pommel measuring two and a quarter inches across, and the grip three and a half inches in length. There is no tang; the blade springs from the shoulders, which are prominent; the length is twenty-seven inches, and the section that of the Toledo rapier. It is, however, slightly leaf-shaped. In the Armeria Real of Turin (section Beaumont to north-west), two Greek blades are shown in a glass case. One is especially interesting. The total length, all being in one piece, is three feet and a half; the blade has a mid-rib; there is a straight simple cross-bar at the shoulders, and the hilt ends in a crutch, like the Hindú antelope-horns and the scroll-hilt of the Danish Swords.

The inside edge has been preserved from days immemorial by the Abyssinian Sword;[825] an exaggerated sickle or diminutive scythe. It reappears in various parts of Africa, as shown by Barth’s Travels (chap. ii. 37 &c.). His ‘Danísko,’ which he translates ‘hand-bill,’ is used by the people of a highly interesting province—‘Adamáwa.’ The general weapon in the neighbourhood is the ‘goliyo’ or bill-hook of the Marghi, and the Njiga of the Baghirmi. It is a heavy and clumsy ‘Khopsh’ of the boomerang type.[826]

The inside edge characterises, to a certain extent, the Albanian yataghan, and the Flissa of the Kabáil (Kabyles); and it is thoroughly well developed in the formidable Korá or Kukkri of the Gurkha or Nepaulese mountaineers, whose edge swells out to a half-moon.

The Mycenæ finds do not enlighten us upon the subject of the Ἄορ and other forms of the Greek Sword. We know nothing of the Thracian Ῥομφαία, the Rumpia of Gellius (x. 25), which the A. V.[827] translates ‘Sword.’ Most writers hold it to be a Thracian lance, like the European ‘partisan;’ and Smith’s ‘Dictionary of Antiquities’ describes it as a long spear resembling the Sarissa, with a Sword-like blade. This comes from Livy (xxxi. 39), who tells us that in woodlands the Macedonian phalanx was ineffectual on account of its prælongæ hastæ, and that the Rhomphæa of the Thracians was a hindrance for the same reason. But in modern Romaic usage it denotes the flammberg (flamberge), or that form of the wavy blade which the Church places in the hands of the angelic host. It is always carried by ‘Monseigneur Saint Michel, the Archangel, the first knight who in the quarrel of God battled with the Dragon, the old enemy of mankind, and drove him out of heaven.’[828] Mycenæ supplied no specimen of the χελιδὼν (gladius Chelidonius), the broad blade with a bifurcated swallow-tailed point. It is mentioned by Isidore (xviii.) and by Origen (chap. vi.); and I have alluded to it in Chapter VII. We are unable to specify the shape of the Athenian Κνήστεις (Knesteis) or the Lacedæmonian ξυίναι (Xyinæ), which Xenophon calls ξυήλαι (Xuelæ). They may have been, to judge from their use, thick cut-and-thrust daggers, in fact Coupe-Choux. Nor do we know what kind of blade was carried by the Xystophori (ξυστοφόροι) in addition to the Xyston: the latter was either the footman’s spear (δόρυ) or the horseman’s lance; in the ‘Iliad,’ as has been seen, it is a long pole studded with iron nails.

According to history, the Greek infantry Sword was a straight two-edged blade, rather broad, and of equal width from hilt to point, which was of bevelled shape. For cavalry they preferred the sabre or cutting weapon.[829] Iphicrates (b.c. 400), when improving arms and armour, must have found spear and Sword too short, for he ‘doubled the length of the spear and made the Swords also longer’ (Diod. Sic. xv. 144; Corn. Nepos, xi.). Plutarch (in ‘Lycurg.’) tells us that a man in the presence of Agesilaus jeered at the Spartan blade, which measured only fourteen to fifteen inches long, saying that ‘a juggler would think nothing of swallowing it’;[830] whereto the great commander replied, ‘Yet our short Swords can pierce our foes.’ And when a bad workman complained of his tool, the Spartan suggested with dry heroism, ‘You have only to advance a pace.’

Dodwell[831] relates that an iron blade found in a tomb at Athens was two feet five inches long, including its handle of the same metal. Most of our museum specimens, both of bronze and iron, are of fair average dimensions. That of Mayence measures nineteen and a half inches (a fig. 265), and that of the Museum of Artillery thirty-two. The Pella blade in the K. Antiquarium, Berlin, is only twenty-one centimètres, including four for the heft.

The Swords called Gallo-Greek,[832] with bronze blades and sheaths (figs. 263, etc.), are of moderate length—twenty-five inches. Pausanias[833] alludes to perhaps a shorter weapon (ταῖς μαχαίραις τῶν Γαλατῶν). And we are told that when Manlius invaded Galatia he found the Swords were prælongi gladii.[834]

The Greek fashion of carrying the Sword apparently varied with the times, and, perhaps, with the length of the weapon: it is easy to draw a dagger from the right, but awkward to unsheathe a full-sized blade. Some writers make the Greeks carry the weapon on the right, and others on the left: Homer seems purposely to leave his description vague, e.g.:—

The words parà merou are similarly used elsewhere,[836] but which thigh is not specified. Hector’s sharp Sword hangs below his loins both huge and strong, and brandishing it he rushes to his death by Achilles’ spear.[837] The Trojan, too, strikes Ajax,[838] who carried his weapon after Assyrian fashion, ‘where the two belts cross upon his breast, both that of the shield and that of the silver-studded Sword.’ The ‘Parazonium’ dagger, with its metal scabbard, was usually attached to the Sword-belt[839] on the other side. Shaped like an ox-tongue (‘Anelace,’ or Langue-de-bœuf), and measuring twelve to sixteen inches long, it was common to Greece and Rome; I have shown its origin in Egypt.

The part played by the Hellenes upon the great stage of the world’s history was their development of civil life—of citizenship. As a nation, they wanted the life-long practice of arms and training for warfare, brought to absolute perfection by the Romans. Their annual games, as shown by the Pindaric Odes, were mostly trials of speed and agility. They had the Bibasis or gymnastic dance, and, to mention no other, the Pyrrhic or Sword-dance, like all ancient and many modern peoples; but these mimicries soon became in the cities mere women’s work. They wore side-arms at home only during the Panathenaic fêtes, where orchestral actions and attitudes were displayed; and they had not those military colonies like the Romans, where every man was a soldier and every soldier was a veteran. Their gymnasia and palæstræ were schools for calisthenics, which the sturdier Italians held in contempt. They were, like the gymnastic-grounds of the Spartan girls, mere hot-beds for growing beauty and good breeders; for attaining the perfection of form duly to be transmitted. This process, indeed, began with the bride, who furnished her nuptial chamber with the finest possible models in painting and statuary. Hence every well-bred citizen at Athens, every ‘gentleman,’ was expected to be handsome. The Beautiful, the Good, and the Holy grew to be almost synonymous. Physical man was raised to his highest expression, till he became the mythological, ideal god-man. This anthropomorphism found its final stage in Phidias; the Parthenon was its expression, and Olympus its culmination.[840] Since the ancient man-breeding and man-shaping system was abandoned, and the race became intimately mixed with foreign blood, chiefly Slav and Hebrew, the reverse has become noticeable: a Greek of the classical type is now rarely seen.

Then came the intellectual age of Greece. Already in b.c. 450 Protagoras the Sophist, of the Cyrenaic school, had made ‘man the measure of all things.’ The individual becomes a duality; as Aristotle expresses it, the animal life is one of sensation, the divine life of intelligence. And this change of view gradually extinguished the holy fire of art.

The Hellenes, even in their best times, did not pay that attention to the use of arms which was a daily practice with the more practical Romans. They had no gladiatorial shows, the finest salles d’armes in the world. The ὁπλοδιδακταὶ (ὁπλοδιδασκολοὶ) or army maîtres d’armes, and professors of the noble arts of offence and defence, were not required by law in Lacedæmon. They practised the Sword, as we learn from Demosthenes; he compared the Athenians ‘with rustics in a fencing school, who after a blow always guard the hit part and not before.’[842] Yet they preferred the pentathlum, the pancration, and military dancing; the fencing-room was a secondary consideration. Indeed, Plato objected to the useless art of Sword-exercise, because neither masters nor disciples ever became great soldiers—a stupendous Platonic fallacy![843]

Nor did Hellas greatly prize herself upon mere arms. The soldier at Athens and amongst all the Ionian and kindred races occupied, it is true, an honourable position; in the four castes[844] he followed the priestly, and he preceded the peasants and the mechanics. But the Hellene was essentially a citizen—a politician. He chose his magistrates and pontiffs, and he could aspire to become one himself. He spent his life in the Agora, canvassing laws and constitutions, treaties and alliances. His minor delight was gossip, euphuistically expressed by ‘hearing new things.’ Hellas soon learned that her forte lay in literature, poetry, oratory, and philosophy, in engineering, and in the fine arts. She excelled the world in the exquisite rules of proportion; in the breadth of idea, and in the clearness and perfection of the literary form: these arts she bequeathed as a heritage to mankind, who have nowhere and never surpassed her. While the grand old Kemites built for eternity, and subjected even size[845] to solidity, Hellas elaborated the principle of Beauty and carried it to its very acme. Her spoilt children were avid of novelty: they constructed every possible system of cosmogony, of astronomy, of geology (except the right one); and they ‘paraded their knowledge,’ as Bacon says, ‘with fifes and drums.’ Hence their teachers of the Nile Valley told them ‘they were ever children’; and hence they excelled their teachers.

This is not the place to discuss Greek tactics, nor is there anything new to say about them: authors are contented with borrowing from the treatises of Ælian and Arrian, who lived in the days of Hadrian. I will only remind the reader that even during the ‘Iliad’-ages the Greek army had its scheme of battle. Nestor advises his warriors to keep their ranks in action after the wont of their forbears; and in two places[846] we have allusions to a rude phalanx or oblong rectangle of civilised Egypt and Khita-land. Xenophon[847] tells us that the army of Agesilaus appeared all bronze (χαλκὸν) and red (φοίνικα); the latter survives in our most inappropriate British scarlet. For the heavy-armed Hoplite-swordsmen and the light Peltasts, who had apparently no Swords, the student will consult any ‘Dictionary of Antiquities.’

Another unpleasant feature in Greek warfare was its indifference to human life, so much regarded by the Romans. The former preserved their old barbarous practice of putting to death their war-prisoners; whilst even during the first Punic War the latter had a system of exchange combined with a money-payment for any number in excess on either side.

Greece rarely appears in arms except in defensive warfare (as against the Persians), in civil wars between citizens and citizens, and in semi-civil wars, as between the Athenians and the Spartans, the Dorians, Ionians, and Æolians. A glance at any of their campaigns—the ‘Anabasis,’ for instance—gives us their measure as soldiers; and what else can we expect from a race whose typical men were Themistocles and Alcibiades? They were too clever by half; too vain, too restless, too impulsive (ever ‘shedding tears’), too self-assertive to become disciplined men-machines. They were always ready for a revolt, for a change of officers; and it must have been a serious thing to command them. In this point, perhaps, they are rivalled by the Frenchman, one of the best soldiers in Europe, and also one of the most difficult to manage. Great captains—Turenne and Napoleon Buonaparte, for instance—shot their recalcitrants by the dozen till the survivors learned to ‘tremble and obey.’[848] Like the French, too, and the Irish, the Greeks had more dash than firmness. They gained victories by the vigour and gallantry of their attack, but they did not distinguish themselves in a losing game. Here England excels, and hence Marshal Bugeaud said, ‘She has the best infantry in the world; happily they are not many.’ We must make them so.

Hellas owed her successes in foreign wars mainly to the barbarous condition of her neighbours. The Romans and all the peoples of Asia Minor, save her own colonies,[849] were far behind her when, after the fashion of the equestrian races of Northern Asia, she had exchanged the chariot for the charger;[850] and when she borrowed from Egypt the arts of warfare by land and sea, the paraphernalia of the siege, the best of arms and armour, and even the redoubtable phalanx. But she lost pre-eminence, physical and moral, when the rival races rose to be her equals, and even her superiors, in weapons, organisation, and discipline. She began with beating, and she ended with being thoroughly beaten by, the Romans.

Greek literature does not abound, like Roman and Hebrew, in perpetual allusions to the Sword: it refers more frequently to the spear and bow. Yet Athenæus ennobles the end of his curious olla podrida (the ‘Deipnosophists’) with some charming lines alluding to the Queen of Weapons. The first passage begins with:—

The second is the song of Hybrias the Cretan:—

And here arises a curious question. Do races, as is generally assumed, decline and fall like nations and empires? Does the body politic obey the law of the body corporal? Do peoples grow old and feeble and barren after their most brilliant periods of gestation? Or rather do they not cease to be great, and to bear great men, because their neighbours have grown to be greater, and because genius is repressed by unfavourable media? I cannot see that Time has greatly changed the peasant of the Romagna, the mountaineer of the Peloponnesus, the Persian become a Parsi in Bombay, or the modern soldier of the Nile Valley, who, under Ibrahim Pasha, defeated the Turks in every pitched battle. But the conditions of Italy, Greece, Persia, and Egypt, are now fundamentally altered: they are no longer superior to their surroundings; they are environed by races stronger than themselves. Hence, perhaps, what is popularly called their degeneracy.