Hence, also, as Glotz points out,[109] the preliminary plea on oath of the accuser and the accused, in homicide cases, was taken before the altar of the Erinnyes or the Semnai Theai; and the defendant who was acquitted of murder by the Areopagus, as well as the returned exile who had paid the penalty of involuntary homicide, offered sacrifice there.
In regard to the ceremonial of purgation by which the slayer, in certain circumstances, was ‘cleansed’ or purified, we have already[110] pointed out what we consider to have been the origin of the rite; and we have shown how the analogies which existed between such a ceremonial and the general Chthonian sacrifices of ‘expiation,’ ‘placation,’ and ‘aversion’ caused these rites to be confused with one another in the minds of ancient and of modern writers. The ceremonial of homicide-purgation appears at first sight so simple and elementary in character that we would be inclined to assume a priori that it could have been duly performed by any ordinary person. But, in fact, we shall see, the performance became the privilege of priests or theocratic nobles. An animal, generally a pig,[111] but sometimes a calf or a lamb,[112] was bled to death and the warm flowing blood was poured over the hands of the slayer, passing away into the sea or into a running stream. The dead animal was then thrown into the water, or was buried, but it could not be eaten.
We may compare the Chthonian ceremony of swearing, in which the slain animal was conceived as at once symbolising and magically inducing a similar fate in case of perjury. The Roman formula is well known. Livy tells[113] how a certain M. Valerius, one of the Fetiales, or Roman priests, swore on behalf of the Roman State, to the Almighty Juppiter, in a treaty with ancient Alba. ‘Audi, Iuppiter: audi, pater patrate populi Albani: audi tu, populus Albanus ... si prior defexit publico consilio, dolo malo, tu illo die, Iuppiter, populum Romanum sic ferito ut ego hunc porcum hic hodie feriam: tantoque magis ferito quanto magis potes pollesque.’ Now, all such ceremonies, simple as they may appear, were hedged round with the most minute regulations as to formulae and procedure, and were thus removed from the competence of ordinary individuals.
Moreover, each locality developed differences of usage which, however slight, could never be ignored. Herodotus,[114] speaking of homicide purgation, implies that all Greeks used the same rites. But that there were minor local variations may be inferred, perhaps, from a peculiar ceremony in the Oedipus Coloneus of Sophocles. Oedipus, having gone as an exile from Thebes to Attica because he had slain his father, is told[115] that he cannot hold converse with the Athenians while he is still uncleansed. The ban is removed when he is admitted to ‘purgation,’ but for the due performance of the rite he is entirely dependent on local direction. We shall give the relevant dialogue between Oedipus and the Chorus[116]:
It may be said that we have not here a genuine instance of homicide-purgation. There is no animal sacrifice, no ‘cleansing’ by a bath of blood. Water and honey were regular offerings to the dead, and the express prohibition of wine-libations reminds us very forcibly of the sacrifice to the Erinnyes made by Clytaemnestra in the Eumenides of Aeschylus.[118] Has Sophocles in mind, then, a local rite of placation to the Erinnys of Oedipus at Colonus, which he interprets as a commemoration of purgation rites? We have seen how easily such rites may be confused. Or are we to assume that the purgation rite for involuntary or extenuated homicide was different from the rites by which a wilful murderer could be purged ‘abroad’ or from those by which a justifiable slayer was purged at home? Was the sacrifice which was offered to the Erinnyes or the Semnai Theai[119] by involuntary slayers after their return from exile, and by accused persons who were acquitted by the Areopagus, a regular purgation rite? These questions we find it difficult to answer either in the affirmative or in the negative. Plato’s references[120] to greater and lesser ‘cleansings’ according to different degrees of guilt imply that the average Greek did not understand the exact nature or purpose of ‘purgation’ and that the secrets of this magic art of reconciliation were the exclusive privilege of theocratic nobles whose interest it was to obscure rather than to clarify the details of the system. The passage we have quoted from the Oedipus Coloneus possibly points to variations in the ‘purgation’ ritual according to degrees of guilt—variations which suggest moreover the ambition and the power of local deities and priesthoods to retain their distinctive peculiarities in the execution of a central Apolline doctrine.[121]
In the Iphigenia Taurica of Euripides[122] we find a mock purgation ceremony arranged by Iphigeneia to save the lives of Orestes and of Pylades. The image of Artemis is said (it was a fiction invented by a loving sister) to have turned in its seat and to have closed its eyes when the blood-stained Argive cousins entered the temple! Iphigeneia proposes to ‘cleanse’ the pollution by the blood of young lambs shed in solitude by the sea and such other things as she has ordered as purifications. King Thoas, not being himself appealed to, leaves the whole question of purgation entirely in the hands of the priestess of Artemis.
From the legend that Bellerophon was cleansed by his host Proetus,[123] the king of Tiryns, we might be inclined to argue that the purgation rites for certain forms of kin-slaying were performed by private non-sacerdotal individuals. But every king was a High Priest in primitive religion; and, further, we have already seen that Proetus could not have performed the post-Homeric ceremony which is attributed to him. It is however possible that Croesus personally ‘purged’ the Phrygian homicide mentioned by Herodotus.[124]
It is probable that in Greece the ‘cleansers’ of homicide-guilt were always ‘priests’ of some kind. Epimenides of Crete purged the city of Athens on a famous occasion, yet not from murder but rather from sacrilege[125]; moreover, Müller points out[126] that he was a native of Phaestus in Crete where there was a very ancient cult of Apollo; hence Epimenides was more than probably a member of an Apolline sacerdotal guild. Müller is, however, we think mistaken in regarding purgation for homicide as the exclusive privilege of Apolline priests. The Euripidean reference to purgation by a priestess of Artemis which we have just cited,[127] Athene’s interpretation[128] of the supplication of Orestes as a supplication for purgation, in the Eumenides of Aeschylus, and many passages in the Laws of Plato,[129] reveal the error of this opinion.
The purgation of Orestes by Apollo is described by Aeschylus in the Eumenides. It is no priest or priestess of Olympian or Chthonian gods, but Apollo himself,[130] the chief of the καθάρσιοι θεοί, who performs the rite. We cannot interpret the ceremony as the purgation of a wilful matricide ‘abroad,’ as we think that such purgation was impossible, at least in historical times.[131] It is the ‘purging’ rather of a deed which is either justified or extenuated by Apollo’s express command, a ‘purging’ which would normally take place in the slayer’s home-land but which is here attributed to a divine Delphian purifier either because Apollo was the patron of the Greek ‘purgation’ system or because the deed was such that no one could have cleansed it save the god who had commanded it, or because a Phocian legend made Phocis, not Athens, the place to which Orestes fled after the slaying of his mother. Orestes tells[132] Athene that he is not a suppliant for purgation at Athens, because he has been already ‘purged.’ We may infer from this that a homicide-exile had not to be ‘purged’ more than once in his changes of residence abroad, but we think it probable that such ‘extern’ purgation did not dispense with the need for ‘domestic’ purgation if the exile was ever permitted to return to his home.[133] Orestes says[134]: ‘There is a law that the shedder of blood is debarred from human intercourse until at the hands of a man who purifies from bloodshed the blood of a young animal has been poured upon him. Long ago have I been thus made clean by others who live elsewhere, by animal victims beside running water.’
From this passage, and from the reference which we have cited from Euripides’ Iphigenia Taurica, as well as from more general considerations we conclude that homicide-purgation normally included the shedding of animal blood when some element of guilt was admitted. It is possible, therefore, that the rite described by Sophocles, in the Oedipus Coloneus,[135] was not conceived as a genuine purgation-rite but rather as an exceptional local procedure which was intended to supplement a presumed anterior purgation.[136] That Attica was noteworthy for its scruples regarding ‘pollution’ may be inferred from the remarks of the Corinthian Chorus in the Medea of Euripides.[137]
We are entirely on the side of Müller[138] and Philippi[139] in the view that purgation, in historical Greece, was applied to the authors of justifiable bloodshed.[140] This we may regard as a further confirmation of our opinion that homicide-purgation was not a placation of ghosts or an expiation offered to gods, but a solemn and sacred symbol of reconciliation between the slayer and his native gods.[141]
Our hypothesis of the origin of the Greek doctrine of homicide as a pollution will receive still further confirmation when we describe in more detail the historical Greek system of penalties for bloodshed and the conceptions of those penalties which are found in Attic tragedy. We will now give the reasons which have led us to associate the Greek ‘pollution’ doctrine with the Delphian Apollo and his Amphictyonic League, after which we shall be in a position to discuss[142] the influence of the ‘pollution’ doctrine on ‘wergeld’ and the legality of ‘private settlement.’ The following account is intended as a supplement to Müller’s analysis, which errs only in attributing purgation-rites exclusively to Apollo and his priests.
In Homer, Apollo has already established at Pytho a temple of many treasures.[143] The reference to ‘sacred Crisa’ side by side with ‘rocky Pytho’[144] suggests, if the Greeks were right in their interpretation of ‘Crisa’ as ‘the Cretan land,’ that the region was already revered in the days of the Minoan thalassocracy. Aeschylus in the Eumenides[145] reproduces the Greek tradition regarding oracle-deities at Delphi, before the advent of Apollo. The Delphian priestess accords priority to Ge, the Earth-goddess, ‘the first of prophets,’ and then she prays to Themis, as the second deity who gave oracles there. This legend probably originated in a joint worship of Ge and of Themis under the forms of the Mother and the Maid; for, just as the cult of Demeter and Kore represented the joint worship of the Earth and its produce, so the cult of Ge and Themis represented the worship of the Earth and of the deified uniformity of the Earth’s fertility. Next the priestess prays to Phoebe, another daughter of Earth, who in turn transmitted the oracle to her son, Phoebus Apollo. It was supposed that the temple which is mentioned by Homer was the fourth[146] temple which had been built on that site. This temple was destroyed in 548 B.C., according to Pausanias.[147] Hence it is much less probable that the oracular shrine had been handed down by continuous succession as an inheritance within a ‘divine family’ than that it was repeatedly destroyed and desecrated by successive invaders. The destruction of Crisa in 585 B.C. by the Amphictyonic League furnishes an historical illustration of its chequered career in prehistoric ages. The octennial festival known as the Stepteria,[148] which commemorated the conquest of the Python by Apollo, had probably an historical foundation. For the Python, a large snake, was worshipped as a symbol of the Earth’s fertility: it was therefore associated with Ge and Themis, who ‘handed down’ the oracle according to legend. The famous Omphalos at Delphi, of which the origin and significance were so mysterious to the Greeks, was really the tombstone of the Python. But Earth, though buried, still lived in the tomb! It was from a cavern of Earth that the Pythian priestess received the vapours which produced her ‘anaesthetic revelation.’[149] In the Apolline shrine was the Hestia, or sacred Hearth, derived from pre-Olympian ancestor worship and necromantic art. Before the pilgrim entered the shrine of the Olympian oracle, he had to perform a Chthonian sacrifice, and offer a πέλανος, a mixture of milk, wine and honey, which was a characteristic offering at the tombs of the dead.[150] Around the tomb of the Python stood Gorgon-images,[151] which were probably suggested by ‘image-magic’ as a placation of the wrath of the Erinnyes, who sought the life of the slayer of the Python. It was from these images, we think, that Aeschylus derived his conception of the Erinnyes, and the famous scene[152] which depicts them as sleeping a loathsome sleep in the temple of Apollo, whom they hate but also fear. We find in Aelian and Plutarch the legend[153] that Apollo, in the days of his conquest of Delphi, fled to Tempe, after slaying the Python, to be purified from the pollution. The Stepteria festival was believed to commemorate his flight! In this legend, however, as in that in which Zeus purifies Ixion,[154] we see the effect of aetiological myth-making and the operation of a principle of primitive religion whereby man makes the gods in his own image and attributes to them the emotions and the observances of his own day.
As we cannot regard Apollo, notwithstanding Müller’s[155] reasoning, as the special product of Dorian religion, so we cannot attribute his exaltation in post-Homeric days exclusively to the Dorian invasion. The Achaeans worshipped Apollo as a prophet-god and as a powerful ally in war, but their hegemony in Greece was based on military control rather than on theocratic manipulation. The Delphians are not mentioned in Homer. They were a Dorian dominant caste which conquered the Phocian masters of the ‘Homeric’ temple at Pytho,[156] about 1000 B.C. Undoubtedly they could not have retained the fruits of their conquest for any period of time, if they had not been supported by the power of the Dorian invaders of Southern Greece. Thus, in 448 B.C., when the Phocians had reoccupied Delphi, it was the Dorian Spartans who sent an army to restore it to the Delphians.[157] Yet the Athenians, who were then supreme in Central Greece, restored it to the Phocians for a time. But, about 585 B.C., when anti-Dorism was at its height in Greece, it was to a northern league of Greek States, in which the Dorians were subordinate, that Delphi looked for help against the Phocians of Crisa.[158] The fact that Cleisthenes of Sicyon, an anti-Dorian, championed the Delphians in this campaign, proves that their Dorian nationality was already subordinated to the prestige which they had won as the High Priests of Greek prophetic religion: and the loan of fifteen talents which a Spartan king gave to the Phocian general who had once more seized Delphi in 356 B.C. shows how Dorism had lost its primal solidarity.[159]
We think, then, that the prestige of the Delphian Apollo, though originating in the Dorian migration, was due to a combination of two forces: (1) the widespread cult of Apollo in Greece and in Asia Minor: and (2) the skill by which the Delphians (who controlled the oracular decrees) impressed the Greeks and foreign peoples with the unrivalled divinity of their local shrine in matters of prophecy and healing-magic; and organised under their banner the local priesthoods of Greece by annual processions and pilgrimages, by the construction of sacred roads, and the establishment of religious Amphictyonies.[160] While other ‘sacerdotal’ nobles in Greece worshipped a number of deities, Olympian and Chthonian, the Delphians seem to have concentrated on Apollo. They were definitely theocratic—being a select caste of nobles, whose High Priests were elected by lot.[161] They formed a criminal court which exacted the death penalty for sacrilege. It follows that when homicide became a religious offence, these judges would not only have decided all cases within their territory,[162] distinguished between different degrees of guilt, and pronounced upon the possibility of purgation, but they would also have used the prestige of the oracle to make their decisions imitated elsewhere. Thus, the Attic Eupatridae, who worshipped Apollo Patroos, and their judges, the Ephetae, who swore by him before their trials,[163] would naturally have adopted the decisions of the central Apolline oracle. Moreover, the annual processions of representatives (θεωροί) of Greek states to Delphi, the Pythian Games, a festival in which all Greeks participated, and the formation of religious international leagues or Amphictyonies made obedience to Apolline oracles almost a matter of obligation.
The great Thessalian Amphictyony of Demeter at Anthela, a very ancient association, including Thessalians, Locrians, Phocians, Boeotians, Athenians, Dorian and minor states, came in the sixth century[164] to meet also at Delphi, and the temple was placed under the control of international Hieromnemones who met twice a year and promulgated laws to be obeyed by all its members, called Amphictyonic laws. It is significant that, in historical Athens, murder exiles were prohibited from Amphictyonic festivals.[165] This law was clearly of Amphictyonic origin.[166]
We have quoted Thucydides’[167] account of the command which was issued by the oracle of Apollo to Alcmaeon, the matricide, directing him to travel to the Echinades Islands. This legend bears, on the face of it, an antique stamp, and the function which is here ascribed to the Delphic oracle is a first-rate piece of evidence for the connexion of Apollo with the historical doctrine of ‘pollution.’
We have quoted Herodotus’[168] account of the story concerning Phrixus and Athamas, in which a Delphic oracle was said to have commanded the Thessalians to ‘purge’ their country by slaying Athamas in sacrifice. This legend we regard as ‘unhistorical’ and pseudo-aetiological, but the rôle which it assigns to Delphi may be cited in support of our present hypothesis.
In historical Attica, the rites of homicide-purgation were performed by three persons called Exegetae or Interpreters who, Suidas[169] assures us, were appointed or controlled by Delphi (Πυθόχρηστοι). Plato,[170] speaking of the appointment of Sacred Interpreters, says: ‘It is right to bring from Delphi the laws relating to all “divine matters” and to follow these laws, having appointed interpreters for them.’ Speaking of their appointment he says that from the names of candidates which stood first on the list after election, nine should be sent to Delphi, and ‘the god’ was to select three of these names. The homicide laws of Dracon, as we shall see later, were not a complete code of homicide-law. Many details were omitted, and these details, we believe, were worked out in the unwritten code of the Ephetae and the Exegetae. In the Euthyphro[171] of Plato, a poor freeman who had killed a slave was put in chains and cast into a trench on the wayside to await the decision of the Exegetae concerning his guilt! The man died from hunger and neglect before the decision arrived, and the question of avenging his death forms one of the problems of the dialogue.
Coulanges points out[172] that the Spartans regarded, not Lycurgus, but Apollo, as the author of their laws. These laws were Πυθόχρηστοι. If they operated, concerning homicide, in a comparatively severe manner, this was because the Spartan military system absorbed without much modification the autocratic tendencies of Delphic law, but we must not attach too much importance to a single statement of Xenophon’s which can perhaps be otherwise explained.[173]
Solon, the Athenian legislator, abolished all the laws of Dracon except those which related to homicide.[174] These particular laws were themselves an anomaly in the Draconian code. Plutarch says that the laws of Dracon were said to have been written with blood, not with ink.[175] Death was the penalty for minor thefts, yet the wilful murderer was accorded the option of exile, and the involuntary slayer, the further option of ‘appeasing’ the relatives of the slain! The life of a murderer in exile was ‘protected’ by the decree of a State whose jurisdiction ceased at its boundaries! We believe that the Draconian homicide-laws are an eclectic codification of existing traditions and that these traditions were a compromise between tribal customs and the seventh-century Apolline doctrine of ‘pollution.’ Coulanges says[176] that Solon did not change the murder laws of Dracon, because they were ‘divine,’ and to disobey or tamper with such laws was regarded as sacrilegious. In our view Apollo and the Delphic oracle constituted one of the sources, and clan-traditions another, from which sprang the laws which Dracon codified.
Plato,[177] speaking of the penalties for wilful kin-slaying, refers to a myth or legend ‘clearly told by priests of old’ to the effect that Justice, the avenger of kindred bloodshed, has ordained that the perpetrator of such an act shall suffer the same doom as he has himself inflicted.[178] We have seen[179] that in the clan-system, kin-slaying was normally punished by perpetual exile, but not by death. We do not agree with Caillemer[180] that the fate of such exiles was more pitiable than that of ordinary homicide exiles, but we support the following opinion of his in regard to the attitude of the kindred. ‘Ils hésitent,’ he says, ‘souvent à verser le sang de leur parent: ils se bornent au bannissement du coupable.’ In Plato,[181] the penalty for kin-slaying is inexorably death. It was, we believe, the pollution doctrine which indirectly produced this change, through the abolition of ‘private vengeance.’[182] It could not have directly produced it, as is clear from the fact that amongst the Israelites, who still retained the avenger of blood, Cain, the murderer of his brother, was punished only by exile; but when, as in Greece, the pollution-doctrine caused the State to interfere in the trial of homicide and in the execution of its penalties, State judges came to execute a penalty which the relatives of the slain would never have inflicted upon a kinsman in the days of ‘private vengeance.’ We shall discuss more fully, later,[183] the problems concerning parricide in Attic law. The fact that parricide was not expressly mentioned in Dracon’s laws does not prove that such a crime was not punished by State officials in historical times. Thus the myth which is attributed by Plato to ‘priests of old’ may be regarded as another proof of the ‘divine,’ which is to say, the Apolline inspiration of historical Greek homicide law.
Again,[184] in regard to suicide, Plato says that it is necessary for the relatives of the deceased to inquire of the ‘Interpreters’ as to the proper methods of purification and of burial.
But the most decisive argument to be derived from Plato as to the connexion of Apollo with purgation and with Greek homicide law can be found in the scholium to a passage in the Laws, a scholium which incidentally supplies a proof of the historicity of Plato’s murder laws. The passage enunciates different cases of justifiable homicide, or rather justifiably accidental homicide—the essence of such discrimination lies in the fact that certain kinds of accidental slaying were foreseen and provided for, in advance, whether by custom, or by public opinion, or by written codes—and the cases which are here enunciated are identical with those of the Draconian law regarding justifiable bloodshed.[185] We cite only a section of the passage,[186] which is sufficient for our present purpose. ‘If any person unintentionally slays a fellow-citizen (φίλος) in a “contest” or at the public games ... or during war, or in military exercises ... in imitation of warfare ... let him be purified according to the law brought from Delphi about such matters and be immune from punishment (καθαρός).’ The scholiast gives the Delphic law, as follows.[187] ‘The law or oracle brought from Delphi regarding a man who kills his friend (i.e. fellow-citizen, as distinct from public enemy) involuntarily:—“Thou hast slain thy comrade (ἑταῖρον) while intending to defend him (ἀμύνων)—his blood doth not pollute thee: thou art purer than thou wast before: but thou, man, who standing near a comrade being killed hast not defended him—thou hast gone not pure away.”’ That such important cases of justifiably accidental homicide should be provided for by Delphic legislation is a most noteworthy fact. Such cases are mentioned in Dracon’s laws, and we presume that they found a place in other Greek written codes. The reference to ‘public games’ suggests unmistakably an international code of laws. Here, then, we find Plato, a member of that Attic State which prided itself on the early foundation[188] of the Delphinium court, for the trial of justifiable homicide, in the time of its first Ionian Kings, advising a conformity to Delphic legislation in homicides of this kind! This scholium, if properly weighed and considered, would in itself be almost sufficient to demonstrate our theory of the Delphic origin of historical Greek homicide-laws, and of the universal similarity of these laws. We cite it here, however, as a mere link in a chain of evidence which is still very far from completion.
We have already referred[189] to the exclusion of homicide-exiles from Amphictyonic festivals in Greece, and we have maintained that such a law probably originated in some Amphictyonic league such as that of Apollo at Delphi. The same reasoning applies to the law quoted by Demosthenes[190] as a law of Dracon, which protected the lives of homicide exiles abroad. The law reads: ‘If anyone shall slay a murderer or cause his death while he abstains from market-places on the State boundaries and from (public) games and Amphictyonic festivals, such a person shall be liable to the same penalties as if he had killed an Athenian citizen.’ We have already[191] suggested the origin of such a law. It was, we think, due to the influence of tribal custom in conflict with the new doctrine of ‘pollution,’ in the seventh century B.C. Demosthenes does not understand correctly the origin of the law, though he is reasonably successful in explaining the law.[192] ‘What,’ he says, ‘was the legislator’s object? (He thought) that if we slay people who have fled to other countries, others will slay those who have fled to us: if this happens, the only refuge left for the unfortunate wretches will be abolished ... also he strove to prevent an indefinite series in the avenging of (such) crimes.... He considered that if a man who is tried for murder, and condemned, once escapes securely, though he ought (also) to be expelled from the native State of the victim, it is not righteous to kill him in every place.’ Demosthenes forgets that it was quite possible for ancient Greek States to make an international compact such as appears to operate between States of the modern world, whereby all murderers who fled abroad would be extradited—not slain where they had taken refuge, but handed over to the State of the ‘victim.’ We shall see presently[193] how the Greeks did evolve a system of extradition of a special kind. All the objects which Demosthenes attributes to the legislator are the creations of his own rhetorical mind. Why should he expect pity for ‘unfortunate wretches’ in a legislator who decreed that, if these wretches remained at home until the verdict of the court was given, they would inexorably be put to death? Why should a murderer expect pity from the relatives of the slain who were polluted by his presence? No, such a law must have originated in a central international Amphictyony or oracular authority which, in its legislation, had to respect the traditions of tribal village communities and of tribal aristocratic States, traditions which had come down from distant ages, and could not be suppressed without a struggle. Tradition held that ‘exile’ saved the murderer’s life, and it was not felt that such a penalty was not a sufficient deterrent. New social conditions, new religious doctrines may have changed men’s conceptions of the deterrent power of exile, but they had, nevertheless, to respect the old tradition. The homicide laws of historical Greece are, we believe,[194] a compromise between central autocratic deterrence and tribal ‘private vengeance.’
In the last clause of the Demosthenic passage which we have cited there is a reference to the righteousness of slaying a murderer if he did not abstain from the ‘land’ of the victim where that ‘land’ or State was different from his own. We fail to understand how such a law could have existed, or could have effectively operated, without an international compact expressly made or tacitly adopted through the mouthpiece of an Amphictyonic oracle. We cannot accept Glotz’s theory[195] that the immunity of homicide exiles abroad originated in separate treaties of Refuge or ἀσυλία. The law is much too wide and universal to permit of such an explanation. Thus, for instance, if an Athenian slew a Theban at Athens or at Thebes, the murderer was bound, after conviction, to abstain from Athens and Thebes for the rest of his life. No single Greek state could have produced such a law. Such eventualities would inevitably require an international compact or an Amphictyonic sanction.
Plato confirms the existence of these laws. Speaking of involuntary homicide, he says[196]: ‘It is necessary that the slayer should withdraw from the (country of the) slain and evacuate his own native land for a year: if the deceased is a stranger, let the homicide be debarred from the stranger’s “land” for the same period.’ Speaking of wilful murderers, he says[197]: ‘If he goes abroad without challenging a verdict (μὴ θέλησας κρίσιν ὑποσχεῖν), let him suffer perpetual exile: but if any such person sets foot upon the “land” of the slain, let whoever first meets him, whether relative (of slain) or citizen, slay him with impunity, or ... hand him to the magistrates ... to put him to death.’
So far we have assumed that only two States were involved in the homicide. But let us suppose that an Athenian slew a Theban at Argos. It would seem that the Athenian slayer, if he elected to become an exile rather than to die, was debarred from three places or rather three States, namely, Athens, Thebes and Argos. Plato, speaking of involuntary homicide between strangers, metics, and citizens, says[198]: ‘If a stranger involuntarily kills a stranger in the city, let anyone who wishes prosecute him in accordance with the same laws: if the slayer is a metic, let him go into exile for a year: if he is a complete foreigner, let him, if he shall have killed a stranger or a metic or a citizen, be banished for his whole life from the country which has power over these laws,[199] and if he returns contrary to the law let the guardians of the laws punish him with death.’ The city which has ‘authority or power in regard to these laws’ must be, in this case, the city in which the deed took place. Thus, a person guilty of involuntary homicide could in certain circumstances be debarred for ever from the place in which the deed occurred, and for at least a year from the land of the victim and also from his native land. Who could have enacted such laws except an international authority?
The operation of such an authority is also revealed in the laws regarding ἀνδροληψία, or the seizure of hostages, when a murderer was not tried or punished by a ‘foreign’ State. A law which is attributed to Dracon, but which clearly must have had its origin in some national or central Greek authority of pre-Draconian days, reads as follows[200]: ‘If anyone dies a violent death, his relations shall be entitled to take hostages on his behalf, until (the people concerned) either challenge a verdict of murder at a trial (δίκας τοῦ φόνου ὑπόσχωσιν) or extradite the slayers: and the taking of hostages shall extend to three persons but not more.’ The meaning of the law may be thus illustrated: if an Athenian slew a Theban at Argos, and if the Argives ignored the deed, and no one prosecuted the slayer, the relatives of the Theban could come to Argos and seize the first three men whom they met, and hold them as hostages till the Argives either tried the slayer or handed him up to the Thebans. We have taken an extreme case, but it is such a case which Demosthenes has in mind when he comments[201] on the law. In historical Greece, the duty of prosecution was normally limited to the relatives of the slain. The slaying of strangers was therefore likely to pass without prosecution. But this right of ἀνδροληψία was an important corrective of the laxity of this system. Relatives, living at a distance, ignorant of the actual slayer, might be regarded as impotent since they knew not whom to accuse. But the seizure of hostages would speed up the revelation of the criminal!
We may distinguish three different cases of ἀνδροληψία. (a) If an Athenian slew a Theban at Thebes, that is, if a stranger slew a citizen, then the relatives of the slain who were on the spot could ascertain easily enough the identity of the slayer and could put him on trial. If after conviction he fled to his native State, that State was bound to put him to death. If he remained after trial in the State of the slain, which, in this case, was also the State in which the deed took place, he was also put to death. But if he fled before trial to his own State, and if his fellow-citizens did not try him and punish him, or arrest and surrender him, the relatives of the slain could legally seize as hostages three of his fellow-citizens. (b) If an Athenian slew a Theban at Athens, that is, if a citizen slew a stranger, then the relatives of the slain, being aliens, had the right to prosecute through a προστάτης; but if the slayer was not tried or surrendered, seizure of hostages followed, for such seizure was the only means by which this result could be secured, and ultimately the slayer was debarred both from Athens and from Thebes. (c) If an Athenian slew a Theban at Argos, and if the slayer remained at Argos, unpunished, or if he fled to Athens and enjoyed immunity there, the relatives of the slain Theban were entitled to seize three Argives or three Athenians, as the case might be, in order to compel his surrender. The city which harboured him had either to put him on trial or to give him up to the relatives of the slain. We may infer from Plato that, if he were convicted of manslaughter at Argos, his punishment would have been more severe than if he were convicted at Athens of slaying an Athenian in Athens! But we presume that he could have elected to stand his trial at Athens, if the Theban relatives agreed to accept the verdict of an Athenian court.
The wording of the Draconian extradition law is vague and incomplete. The emergencies which it does not expressly indicate were no doubt provided for by an Apolline Amphictyonic code, which was either unwritten or, if committed to writing, was kept secret, or if promulgated, has left no trace of itself in inscriptions or in literature. But we fail to see how even the Draconian law could have ever originated in any one State, or in the mind of a single legislator. We believe that it was, on the contrary, of international or Amphictyonic origin. We have suggested, moreover,[202] that the homicide penalties of historical Greece were the result of a compromise between the religion of Apollo and the traditions of local State-gods and of the Erinnyes who represented the wrath of the slain and the desire of the relatives for retribution. Does not this theory help to explain and does it not therefore derive support from the fact that the punishment of homicide was most severe and the duty of prosecution most widely diffused in the case of homicide committed in a State in which both slayer and slain were legally ‘strangers’?
Glotz,[203] who sees in the protection of a murderer’s life ‘abroad’ (which means, as we now see, anywhere outside the one, two, or three States which might be involved in the case) the operation of treaties of ἀσυλία or Refuge between individual States, explains the extradition law regarding the seizure of hostages as an ancient tradition of the clans. Indicating the contrast which exists between ancient and modern extradition, he observes[204]: ‘En Grèce, l’extradition a de bonne heure figuré dans le droit des gens. Mais elle n’était pas du tout à l’origine ce qu’elle est devenue. Les peuples civilisés des temps modernes ont pour principe de livrer des étrangers présumés coupables de crimes commis en pays étranger, mais non pas leurs nationaux, même pour crimes commis sur terre étrangère. Les anciens se faisaient un point d’honneur de ne pas abandonner le malheureux qui s’était enfui sur leur sol et confié en leur protection. L’hôte est toujours sacré: le foyer d’une cité est un asile inviolable ... c’est l’extradition telle qu’ont pratiquée longtemps les Aryens, ut populus religione solvatur.’ It was, according to this view, only a sense of honour, a fear of violating the sacred rights of hospitality, which gave to Greek extradition law its peculiar characteristics. But criminals cannot claim any right of hospitality, in the ordinary sense. Moreover, Glotz forgets that a Greek State had to expel or deliver up a stranger if the deed of blood was committed in its territory. It also had to give up its ‘nationals’ if these ‘nationals’ had slain foreigners at home or abroad. Glotz draws too fine, too neat a contrast between ancient and modern extradition. He does not explain the origin of the ancient system. To say that it existed in early clan-law but that it developed later into something quite different is not an explanation of it. Clan-extradition arose, we believe, as a solvent of war between the clans concerned. The tribal court or the city court may possibly have acted in Pelasgian times as a medium for the operation of this solvent. But the historical system of extradition, with all its minute differentiations and variations, bears, we think, the stamp of Amphictyonic legislation in the age of aristocratic rule in Greece, or in what we may call the Apolline era. It was only when homicide became an offence against an international god at Delphi, that is, in the seventh century B.C., that such legislation came to be applied to this kind of ‘crime.’ This is our explanation of the origin of the law. It was an international compact issued in the form of an oracle.
As an illustration of the interference of oracles in international disputes we will cite one or two passages from Herodotus. At the battle of Thermopylae in 480 B.C. Leonidas, the famous king and commander of the Spartan band, was slain, and Xerxes, the Persian king, mutilated the corpse by decapitation and crucifixion.[205] This act is regarded by Herodotus as a barbarous violation of the customs of war, and is attributed by him to the rage and anger of Xerxes at the time. The Spartans seem to have been able to present the act afterwards as a case for damages, and they secured the support of the Delphic oracle. When the Persians had failed in their expedition against Greece, and Xerxes was returning to the Hellespont, ‘an oracle came from Delphi to the Lacedaemonians bidding them ask satisfaction from Xerxes for the death of Leonidas and accept that which should be given by him.’[206] Xerxes ridiculed the suggestion at first, but later he referred the herald to Mardonius, who would, he said, pay satisfaction. At the battle of Plataea Mardonius was slain, and then, says Herodotus,[207] ‘the satisfaction for the death of Leonidas was paid by Mardonius according to the oracle given to the Spartans.’ Again, we are told[208] that after the Persian conquest of Lydia, Cyrus charged Mazares to bring to him alive a certain Pactyas, a leading anti-Persian rebel. Pactyas fled to Kyme, and when messengers came from Cyrus demanding his ‘extradition,’ ‘the Kymeans resolved to consult the deity at Branchidai as to the course which they should follow.... For there was there an oracle established of olden time, which all the Ionians and Aeolians used to consult’: and ‘when they thus inquired, the answer was given them that they should deliver up Pactyas to the Persians.’ Herodotus says that the Kymeans did not give up Pactyas, as they suspected the oracle of political designs. Later, the oracular shrine informed them that they were bidden to deliver up Pactyas only in order that they should be punished by the gods for contemplating the violation of a suppliant’s rights! This does not imply, as Glotz[209] supposes, that such rights belonged to murderers, for Pactyas was not a murderer. We cite the passage here merely to illustrate the custom of consulting oracles in ‘extradition’ disputes.
The theory which connects Apollo with the doctrine of homicide as a ‘pollution’ finds further confirmation in many Greek legends. The story of the purgation of Ixion by Zeus, which is first referred to by Pindar[210] and by Aeschylus,[211] is, we think, an instance of ‘reconstruction,’ or ‘retrojection,’ on the part of legend-makers who were less concerned with the matter of consistency in the character of Zeus than with the maintenance of his exalted rôle in the Olympian religion of post-Homeric days, which tended to extol Apollo the Son over Zeus the Father. Sidgwick’s view[212] that this legend originated in an attempt to derive the name Ixion from the root ἴκ as found in the words ἱκέτης and ἱκετεύειν (which refer to suppliant-rights) seems to us very probable. Pindar has perhaps been misinterpreted by Verrall[213] in the translation of ἐμφύλιον αἷμα as kindred-murder. We have seen[214] that the word ἔμφυλος sometimes carries this meaning in Homer. But in the Pindaric narrative it was his father-in-law whom Ixion slew, and fathers-in-law are not, as a rule, akin in blood to their sons-in-law, though they may belong to the same tribe (φυλή). Pindar asserts that the act of Ixion was malicious: but we have said[215] that for malicious kin-slaying purgation was not possible: ‘Of a kindred blood defiled,’ says Plato,[216] ‘there is no other cleansing ... before the life that has sinned shall pay kin blood for kin blood.’ Hence, it is necessary to suppose that Ixion was not akin to his victim. The legend of the purgation of Ixion is open to suspicion on the further ground that Ixion is said[217] to have been the first who ‘supplicated’ for purgation, and is said to have been purged by Zeus. Now Apollo, not Zeus, was the pioneer amongst the Purifying gods (καθάρσιοι θεοί). It was Apollo who purified Orestes, in the legend which Aeschylus follows in the Eumenides.[218] ‘Mine was the house,’ says Apollo, ‘and mine the hearth which received this suppliant, and I am the purger of his blood-guilt.’
We shall see, later,[219] what a difficult problem the Homeric saga of Orestes presented to the legend-makers of the ‘Apolline’ era (750 B.C. onwards). There was only one means by which the Homeric story could be retained without assuming an atrocious indifference to kin-slaying on the part of the Homeric Greeks: namely, by representing the act of Orestes as in some way justified. But the Apolline code, if we may regard Plato as a worthy exponent of it, did not admit a plea of justification for the slaying of a parent in any circumstances. ‘In what other way (than by death),’ says Plato, ‘would it be right to punish one whom no law will permit, even in self-defence and in danger of his life, to slay his father or mother ... and whom (the legislator) will bid to suffer anything rather than perpetrate such a deed?’[220] We are convinced that there was one thing, and one thing only, which would have been accepted by Plato as a justification for such an act, namely, the express command of Apollo himself. Apollo was the reputed founder of the Attic Court Delphinium; he was regarded as the initiator of the distinction between just and unjust slaying[221]: he appointed and controlled the Exegetae or the Sacred Interpreters of the laws of ‘purgation’[222]; surely his command, impossible to disobey, would have been admitted as a justification for the deed of Orestes. In the Eumenides[223] of Aeschylus, Orestes says to Apollo: ‘Be thou my witness: show, Apollo, whether I slew her justly. The fact of slaying I do not deny: do thou decide whether in thy judgment I slew her justly or not, that I may tell these judges here.’ And Apollo replies[224]: ‘I am a prophet and will not deceive: never, in my oracular shrine, have I said aught that Zeus, the father of Olympian gods, doth not command. Take note, ye judges, of the value of such a justification.’ So, in the Electra of Sophocles, Orestes says[225]: ‘When I approached the oracular shrine of Pytho, to learn whereby I might punish the murderers of my sire, Phoebus made answer: “No host of shielded warriors, but thine own guileful craft, O prince, and thine own arm shall deal the death-blow righteously.”’ Even in the Orestes of Euripides, a drama in which, as we shall see,[226] the plea of justifiable matricide is almost entirely absent, Orestes tells the Chorus[227]: ‘Behold! Apollo, who in his palace in mid-earth gives to mortals oracles most clear, by whom we are entirely guided—him I obeyed when I slew my mother. ’Twas he who erred, not I. Is it not enough to remove “pollution” if I transfer the guilt to the god?’
Again, in the post-Homeric form of the legend of the Theban Oedipus, it is Apollo who commands the Thebans to search for the murderer of Laius, and, when they have found him, to put him to death or to drive him from the land.[228] In this option of death or exile we have the normal Attic, and, therefore,[229] the normal Greek penalty for wilful murder. The direction which Apollo gives, in the Oedipus Rex of Sophocles, is quite general.[230] Apollo speaks therefore as a lawgiver, and as a deity angered by unpunished homicide, rather than as a prophet; since he conceals for a time his knowledge of the slayer of Laius. In historical Greek law the penalty for parricide was invariably death. If Apollo had proclaimed the death penalty without the option of exile, for the slayer of Laius, the famous drama of Sophocles would have had to be considerably if not fundamentally altered. The area of the ‘search’ would have been limited to the kinsmen of the deceased Laius. The Homeric story of Oedipus is so very different from the later ‘tragic’ story that the evolution of the legend must have been attended with considerable difficulty. Legend-makers could not ignore the Homeric saga which told[231] how Oedipus, having slain his father, ruled over the Cadmeans, even though ‘the gods revealed these things to men.’ How was this fact to be explained from the standpoint of the post-Homeric doctrine of ‘pollution’ according to which all wilful parricides were inexorably put to death? We have suggested that Homer did not understand the mysterious immunity of Oedipus, and that this immunity was derived from a Pelasgian story, based on Pelasgian legal distinctions, to the effect that Oedipus did not really know that it was his father whom he slew, and that therefore Oedipus could not be regarded as a parricide of full guilt. It is also possible to suppose that the old Pelasgian story contained a reference to a further extenuation of Oedipus’ guilt, namely, a certain provocation on the part of Laius and his attendants; Sophocles says that Oedipus was insulted by the herald of Laius and that Laius smote him on the head with his goad.[232] Sophocles tells us also that when all the facts concerning the death of Laius had come to light, Kreon, instead of proceeding to punish Oedipus, decided to consult again the oracle at Delphi. Thus, when Oedipus, anxious to avail himself of the option of exile, asks Kreon to drive him from the land, Kreon answers[233]: ‘Assuredly I should have already done so, did I not first desire to learn from the god what should be done.’ Now if the deed of Oedipus had nothing to extenuate it beyond the fact that he did not know his father when he slew him, he would still have had to suffer the penalties of wilful murder, namely, death or perpetual exile. If, then, Kreon did not immediately proceed to punish Oedipus, but consulted Apollo a second time, this must be attributed either to the element of involuntariness or to the element of provocation, or to both these elements in the legend of Oedipus. These elements of provocation and involuntariness are most important for the legal intelligibility of the Oedipus Coloneus, as we shall see later.[234] At present we wish to emphasise the fact that this legend, like the legend of Orestes, became, so to speak, ‘Apollinised’ in post-Homeric times. Such transitions are only intelligible if we assume a connexion between Apollo and ‘pollution.’ We may infer that, in the post-Homeric legend, Apollo took a lenient view of the guilt of Oedipus, from the fact that, in the Oedipus Coloneus, the responsibility for his continued exile is laid not upon Apollo, but upon Kreon and the sons of Oedipus, who wish to enjoy the vacant throne of Thebes.[235] According to Euripides,[236] Oedipus’ sons imprisoned him, but Kreon drove him into exile.
In the Orestes of Euripides[237] it is Apollo who saves Orestes from the wrath of the Argives who have condemned him to death. Apollo decrees that, when Orestes has endured a period of exile and has submitted to a trial at Athens, the Argives must accept as their king a man whom they had already deemed worthy of an ignominious death! In the Electra of Euripides,[238] Castor and Pollux refer, by way of prophecy, to the fact that Apollo will ultimately secure Orestes’ deliverance from the Erinnyes.
In the Ion of Euripides[239] the Pythian priestess of Apollo commands Ion not to slay Creusa, who had attempted to poison him, and who otherwise would have urged in vain her plea of self-defence and the sacredness of her sanctuary.
In the Andromache of Euripides, Apollo is criticised for having permitted the slaying of Neoptolemus within the precincts of the temple at the hands of Orestes and the Delphians. The Messenger says[240]: ‘Thus has the Lord who gives oracles to others, who is the umpire for all men of what is right, requited the son of Achilles ... like any wicked mortal, he stores in his memory an ancient quarrel.’
Thus the conception of homicide as a pollution permeates all Greek tragedy: however various the legends, however different the localities to which they refer, they all breathe the same Apolline atmosphere. We have already[241] quoted Herodotus’ opinion as to the universality of the ‘purgation’ rites by which the pollution of homicide was cleansed. If it be true, moreover, that the laws which regulated the historical Greek treatment of homicide were more or less identical in all the more important and advanced Greek States, would not this fact suggest that the origin of these laws must be sought, not in the genius of occasional local legislators, but rather in the simultaneous universal operation of identical causes? One of these causes, we believe, was the doctrine of pollution.
The legends of Attic tragedy on the whole suggest a uniform system of murder-law in historical Greece. In Euripides’ Orestes[242] we are told that Orestes did not follow ‘the common law of the Greeks.’ In the Heracleidae,[243] Eurystheus, referring to a threat of murder on the part of Alcmene, says: ‘By the laws of the Greeks, if I am slain I shall cause my slayer to be polluted.’ In the Hercules Furens,[244] Hercules, the slayer of his children, feels that men’s doors will be closed against him in all parts of Greece, without exception. We have already[245] referred to the possibility that a more severe code of penalties for homicide existed at Sparta than in other parts of Greece. Xenophon[246] says that a certain Dracontius was condemned to perpetual exile for involuntary homicide. If we have here a really exceptional penalty, we must attribute it to the peculiarly military character of the Spartan State. But can we be sure that the penalty was exceptional? Plato decrees perpetual exile for involuntary slaying between strangers in any given State[247]; moreover, for slaying in a passion, which is quasi-involuntary, he decrees perpetual exile for the second offence.[248] Xenophon does not give us sufficient details about Dracontius to enable us to regard this penalty as a definite exception. Again, in regard to Crete, we have indicated[249] the absence of any reference to wergeld in the laws of Gortyn. This shows the influence of some universal Greek doctrine which led to its abolition. The fact that Apollo was said to have received many of his Delphic priests from Crete,[250] and the fame of the Cretan purifier, Epimenides, in the seventh century B.C., point to the same conclusion.