As to the factions of the cities, which led to what Ruskin calls the “suicide of Greece,” they come to seem as natural as human nature itself when one stops to reflect that Hellas was never a united country under unified government. The Greek had, to be sure, a prejudice in favour of his race against outside barbarians. But his keenest prejudice was for his own city. The idea of liberty was too new for the conception of a federation of cities to be grasped all at once. Even now, after more than twenty-five hundred years of experiment and effort, that idea has only in a few instances been successfully realised and practised on a large scale for considerable periods of time—by the Greek cities themselves at a later period; by the north Italian cities late in the Middle Ages; and by the Anglo-Saxon race in our own day. It is not strange then that the Athenian regarded the Spartan as a political foreigner; and the struggles between the two were not different from the struggles that have gone on ever since between different neighbouring states all over the world. The appalling fact of universal carnage inconsistently disturbing the dreams of the brotherhood of man is one of the saddest evidences of the restricted civilisation of our race. But with all recent history in our minds, we can hardly hold it too much against the Greek that he was not more advanced in this regard in the year 400 B.C. than is all the rest of the world in the year 1900 A.D.
Without going further it must be clear how very different the points of view are from which the “sympathetic” and the “antipathetic” historian will respectively regard a people, in particular a people of high genius like the Greeks. And, to return to Mitford, it is hardly an unjust criticism which has said of him that his ponderous work, despite its learning, “is scarcely more than a huge party pamphlet.” And this is true precisely because he viewed the Greek always from the standpoint of his own narrow prejudice. Yet this must not be taken to imply that Mitford’s history is valueless. The fact is far otherwise. With due allowance for its bias, it may be read with full profit by everyone, and there are many passages of it that are unprejudiced and authoritative, while the merits of its style commend it so highly that we have had occasion to return to it again and again.
But the greatest distinction of Mitford was to call forth the work of Grote; for it was through indignation aroused by Mitford’s attitude toward Grecian affairs that the London banker, whose recreation was the study of the classics, was led to present a different view of Grecian history. The intentions to combat Mitford developed finally the conception of a comprehensive history, and when this history was completed, a definitive presentation of Grecian affairs had been put forward. Next to Gibbon’s Rome, perhaps the greatest historical work ever produced in England is Grote’s History of Greece. Unfortunately, Grote did not continue his history beyond the time of Alexander, so we must seek other guides for the period of the decline and fall of Grecian power. The earliest epochs of Grecian history also have been opened up by the work of Schliemann and his successors since the day of Grote. Nor need it be denied that in various details Grote’s theories have been modified by later investigations. But, in the main, his work was based upon such secure foundations, and was conceived and carried out in such a broad and philosophical spirit, that it must stand indefinitely, like the work of Gibbon, as a finished historical structure.
If one were to single out for particular reference the part of Grote’s work which was most revolutionary and at the same time most satisfactory, one would cite perhaps the earliest portion, that which deals with the myths and traditions of Greece. It is almost a matter of course that the chief authoritative investigators of such a subject as this are usually scholars by profession; closet students of that type of mind which can give years of enthusiastic devotion to the investigation of a few pages of an obscure manuscript, and which can devote pages of polemics to the establishment of the correct reading of a disputed text the subject-matter of which is perhaps altogether trivial. This type of mind is in many ways admirable, and the work which it accomplishes is entitled to full respect, but it is not the kind of intellect one would willingly follow as a rule in the decision of questions of more practical import. And it is because this is the sort of intelligence which has chiefly attacked this problem, that the discussion of it has usually evinced so little of practicality. Moreover, another set of persons of even more visionary cast, the poets, namely, have added their modicum of argument along equally visionary lines, prejudiced in their view by love of the great literature in which the mythical tales are embalmed. But Grote combined in his own mind the qualities of secure and profound scholarship with a full appreciation of the beauties of literature and a rare practical knowledge of the world of everyday affairs, which gave him perhaps a keener critical view and a clearer historical perspective than had been vouchsafed anyone who had before attempted to deal with the subject.
Grote was a practical banker and successful financier, turned historian through sheer love of his subject. He applied to the subject of Greek mythology the rules of what may be best described as sound common-sense. He recognised that a myth is not the growth of a day, but the accretion of perhaps many generations, or even centuries of legendary history. He fully recognised two very essential basal principles of practical psychology, namely, first, that quite the rarest feat of the human mind is anything approaching pure invention; but that, secondly, scarcely less rare is a recital, however securely founded in history, which does not contain some elements of invention. He recognised, in other words, the full truth of the homely saying that “where there is much smoke there must be some fire”; but he recognised also the truth that no two persons could ever be found who, after viewing the smoke, would agree as to the exact proportion which it bore to the fire.
Making the application to the case in hand, Grote was convinced that every important myth and legend must have had the prototype of at least its outline in the actual history of some human beings in some period. He combined with this conviction the no less certain one that in our day it is utterly impossible to say what people or what time furnished this historical basis of the tradition, or just what proportion of fact is mingled with the enshrouding cloud of fable. When, therefore, Grote came to write his history of Greece, he adopted a compromise regarding the mythical period, which is one of the most striking illustrations of his practical sagacity. He recited the fables as fables, labelling the legendary period as such, and making no attempt whatever to determine what relation any specific incident among these legends might bear to the actual experiences of the people of prehistoric Greece. Grote’s decision in this matter was at once received with acclaim by a large number of readers; and though of course it by no means silenced the champions of other views, it may fairly be said that after more than half a century there is no other manner of treating this period which can justly supplant that which the great historian established.