Another way of institutionalizing relationships between the nationals of different states was epigamia, an arrangement by which the offspring of marriage were treated as citizens of the wife’s polis if the husband settled there; and so was the husband. Athens, for example, granted epigamia to Euboea as late as the 5th century, a time when Athenian citizenship was fiercely protected. There are still earlier instances: usually one hears of epigamia when for one reason or another it was being suspended or denied. Thus, there was an early arrangement between the islands of Andros and Paros, which, Plutarch says, ended when relations went sour. More interesting is the statement, again by Plutarch, that there was no intermarriage between members of two of the villages, or demes, of Attica, Pallene and Hagnous. Far from being evidence that these places were somehow originally separate states, the prohibition was more like a ban on endogamy: in other words, the two communities were regarded—like members of a family—as being too close to be allowed to intermarry.
Thus, both marriage itself and prohibition of marriage were ways of defining the relations between communities, including communities within a single large state like Attica, and of keeping those relations friendly. One way in which ties of xenia and marriage can now be traced in detail is the scientific study of Greek personal names, because patterns of naming reflect social realities; foreign names enter a city’s name pool as a result of both formal connections and less formal ones, such as temporary residence. Such “onomastic” evidence, as it is called, can now be studied in bulk and in depth, thanks to the computer-aided publication of all known Greek personal names, most of them attested from inscriptions.
The chief vehicle of interaction among poleis, however, was through warfare and through the formal suspension or renunciation of warfare by means of heavily ritualized treaties (one of the most common words for such a treaty is spondai, which literally means “libations” to the guaranteeing gods). The earliest surviving inscriptional peace treaty “for all time” dates from the 6th century and was found at Olympia. Nonetheless, there were surely agreements to limit warfare over strips of boundary land before that date. Archaeology may offer unexpected help in this matter: it is possible and plausible that some frontier zones were by tacit or explicit agreement left fallow. One such zone seems to have been the remote Skourta plain, which separates part of northern Attica from Boeotia; preliminary surface survey (i.e., the estimation of settlement patterns by gathering of potsherds) carried out in and after 1985 suggests that it was—perhaps deliberately—left uncultivated in the Archaic period. The Lelantine War
An important landmark in interstate military relations of the kind considered here was the Lelantine War. It was the earliest Greek war (after the mythical Trojan War) that had any claim to be considered “general,” in the sense that it involved distant allies on each side. Fought in perhaps the later 8th century between the two main communities of Euboea, Chalcis and Eretria, it took its name from the fertile Lelantine Plain, which separates the cities and includes the site of Lefkandi. (It is an interesting modern suggestion that Lefkandi itself is the site of Old Eretria, abandoned about 700 bce in favour of the classical site Eretria at the east end of the plain, perhaps as a consequence of Eretria’s defeat in the war. This theory, however, needs to account for Herodotus’s statement that at the early 6th-century entertainment of the suitors of Cleisthenes of Sicyon there was one Lysanias from Eretria, “then at the height of its prosperity.”)
Other faraway Greek states were somehow involved in the war; on this point Thucydides agrees with his great predecessor Herodotus. Thus, Samos supported Chalcis and Miletus, Eretria. Given Euboean priority in overseas settlement, it is natural to suppose that the links implied by the traditions about the Lelantine War were the result of Euboean overseas energy, but that energy would hardly have turned casual contacts into actual alliances without a preliminary network of guest-friendships. Whether the oracle at Delphi took sides in the war, as a modern speculation has it, is less certain, though there is no doubt that, by some means wholly mysterious to the 21st century, Delphi often provided updated information about possible sites for settlement and even (as over Cyrene) gave the original stimulus to the emigration.
One can be more confident in denying the thoroughly anachronistic notion that the Lelantine War shows the existence of “trade leagues” at this early date. Religious amphictyonies are one thing, but trade leagues are quite another; the evidence, such as it is, suggests that early trade was carried on by entrepreneurial aristocratic individuals, who no doubt exploited their guest-friendships and formed more such friendships during their travels. It is true, however, that such individuals tended to come from areas where arable land was restricted, and to this extent it is legitimate to speak in a generic way of those areas as having in a sense a more commercially minded population than others. One example of such an area is the Lelantine Plain, an exceptionally good piece of land on a notably barren and mountainous, though large, island. Herodotus described one such trader from the later Archaic period, Sostratus of Aegina, a man of fabulous wealth. Then in the early 1970s a remarkable inscription was found in Etruria—a dedication to Apollo in the name of Sostratus of Aegina. This discovery revealed that the source of his wealth was trade with Etruria and other parts of Italy. Aegina is an island whose estimated Classical population of about 40,000 was supported by land capable of supporting only about 4,000. One may quarrel with the first figure as too large and the second figure as too pessimistic (it makes insufficient allowance for the possibilities of highly intensive land use). Even after adjustment, however, it is clear that Aegina needed to trade in order to live. It is not surprising to find Sostratus’s home city of Aegina included among the Greek communities allowed to trade at Naukratis in pharaonic Egypt; that arrangement is described by Herodotus, and the site has been explored archaeologically. Aegina was the only participating city of Greece proper, as opposed to places in the eastern Aegean. The later Archaic periods The rise of the tyrants
Dealings with opulent Asian civilizations were bound to produce disparities in wealth, and hence social conflicts, within the aristocracies of Greece. One function of institutions such as guest-friendship was no doubt to ensure the maintenance of the charmed circle of social and economic privilege. This system, however, presupposed a certain stability, whereas the rapid escalation of overseas activity in and after the 8th century was surely disruptive in that it gave a chance, or at least a grievance, to outsiders with the right go-getting skills and motivation. Not that one should imagine concentration of wealth taking place in the form most familiar to the 21st century—namely, coined money. Since 1951 the date of the earliest coinage has been fairly securely fixed at about 600 bce; the crucial discovery was the excavation and scientific examination of the foundation deposit of the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus in Anatolia. The first objects recognizably similar to coined money were found there at levels most scholars (there are a few doubters) accept as securely dated.
Coinage did not arrive in Greece proper until well into the 6th century. There were, however, other ways of accumulating precious metals besides collecting it in coined form. Gold and silver can be worked into cups, plates, and vases or just held as bar or bullion. There is no getting round the clear implication of two poems of Solon (early 6th century) that, first, gold and silver were familiar metals and, second, wealth was now in the hands of arrivistes. The decline of the aristocracy