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predicted. It preserves a tradition of the peoples with whom the Achæans did business at the fair of Troy ; it was 'essentially a contemporaneous document,' and 'has survived in something very like its original form.' It certainly contains a record which could not have been invented after the twelfth century. Thus it seems to supply a strong ground for the view, probable on other and more general grounds, that the material of the Iliad was derived from the poems of Achæan minstrels who sang to the generations immediately succeeding the fall of Troy. There is indeed one feature of the Catalogue on which Mr Leaf has not touched and which seems to detract from its realism. We mean the names of the leaders. It is obvious that the chief of the Pæonians, for instance, could not have been called Pyraichmes, or the chief of the Paphlagonians Pylaimenes. Contrast these and others with the name of the Lycian Sarpedon, which obviously rests on genuine tradition. Were they inventions of Homer or of an old Achæan singer?

In his second work Mr Leaf undertakes to do for the geography of Greece what he has done in his first for that of Troy and her confederacy. In the interval between the appearance of the two books he seems to have revised his views about the Achæans, though he does not expressly say so. In Troy' he represented them as the original makers of Greece, who, descending from the north towards the beginning of the second millennium, occupied the peninsula, at that time entirely in the hands of the non-Hellenic Pelasgians. In 'Homer and History,' on the contrary, he sees that they are later comers; they find a Greek-speaking race already in Greece, partly dominated by rulers who had come over from Crete and introduced Minoan civilisation. They were part of the flood of incomers from the north, whose first wave had overwhelmed Greece and passed on to Knossos' about B.C. 1400, and from that time were the ruling tribe in Greece, though they did not occupy all the country. Thus we have four instead of two peoples on the scene-the Pelasgians,* the pre-Achæan Greeks,

* As to the Pelasgians Mr Leaf propounds an ingenious theory which does not commend itself to us. Until we have some decisive proof to the contrary we must regard Pelasgoi as a distinctly non-Greek name.

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the Minoan rulers, and the Achæans. This view is unquestionably nearer to the truth, but we think that Mr Leaf is still inclined to place the conquests of the Achæans too early. We have not sufficient data to enable us to say who were the destroyers of Cnossus. The Achæans were probably pressing forward in Northern Greece in the fourteenth century, but for the date of the conquest of the Peloponnesus our sole evidence points to the thirteenth. For, according to the tradition upon which Mr Leaf himself builds, Pelops, who gave his name to the peninsula, was its conqueror, and Pelops was the grandfather of Agamemnon; so that, if we place the Trojan War at the beginning of the twelfth century, we cannot date his reign before the first half of the thirteenth. In any case we can agree that, two generations before the war, the Achæans were the ruling power in Greece, as we find them represented in Homer. Mr Leaf conceives them as a small military caste, perhaps only a few thousands all told'; and he works out an interesting parallel between their position and that of the Normans in South Italy. He might have found another illustration, still nearer, in the conquest of Greece itself by the Franks, Lombards, and Venetians after the Fourth Crusade.

In examining Homer's view of the geography of Achæan Greece the essential thing is to determine the value of the Catalogue of the Achæan ships. Mr Leaf has submitted it to a merciless analysis, and it may safely be said that the combined forces of the unitarians will never rehabilitate the Catalogue as a document of significance for the Mycenæan age. It was composed by a Baotian in the interests of Boeotia, which had taken no part in the Trojan War. Probably it was a work of the Hesiodic period and need not be later than 800 B.C., for Mr Allen has recently * brought forward very forcible arguments for assigning to Hesiod a date a hundred years prior to that which is usually accepted. When we sweep away the Catalogue, we obtain from the rest of the Iliad and the Odyssey a consistent political map for 1200 B.C. Agamemnon was the head of an Achæan empire which embraced not only the Peloponnesus but

* In the Journal of Hellenic Studies,' vol. xxxv, pp. 85, 899. (1915).

a large part of northern Greece and the western islands. Thucydides was right in conceiving him as much more than the temporary leader of a confederacy formed for the special purpose of the war. He was over-lord of Peleus, whose kingdom embraced Phthia and Hellas, and of Odysseus, who ruled over the Ionian islands with the exception of Corfù. Mr Leaf has shown with admirable lucidity how overwhelming are the arguments in favour of Dr Dörpfeld's identification of Homeric Ithaca with Leucas (Santa Maura). The four islands under the sway of Odysseus were Zacynthus, Dulichion, Same, and Ithaca. Zacynthus preserved its name ; Dulichion is Cephallenia ; Same is Thiaki, the Ithaca of historical Greece; Ithaca is Leucas. These identifications render the geography of the Odyssey completely intelligible and coherent; on the old theory we are involved in a series of insuperable difficulties. Our attitude to tradition is largely a matter of temperament; and there will probably always be some who will prefer to impose on the poet any number of inconsistencies and incongruities rather than sacrifice the tradition of the identity of the Homeric with the later Ithaca. It has been conjectured that in postHomeric days northern invaders seized Leucas, when the Ithacans were driven across to Same and carried their name with them. This may be the explanation. Calabria, which was once the name of the heel of Italy, is now the name of the toe. We know when the change happened, in the seventh century A.D., and why. If the early history of the Middle Ages were as blank to us as the dark period of Greece, we should find it far more puzzling to account for the migration of the Calabrian name than it is to discover a probable reason for the new nomenclature of the Ionian islands.

Mr Leaf has established on a firm basis the value of Homer, within certain wide limits, as a historical source. He has shown that the geographical and topographical details of the Homeric picture conform to fact so far as they can be controlled, and otherwise are self-consistent. Archæological discoveries have proved that in their picture of civilisation the poems are also true to fact, apart from some inevitable anachronisms. Such truth could not have been achieved if a poet of the tenth


century had constructed his epic from pieces of floating tradition. The existence of a body of earlier minstrelsy, coming down from the Achæan period itself, is the only hypothesis which will reasonably explain the data. Moreover the Trojan War must now take its place as an indubitable historical event; and it must have been waged in much the same way as Homer conceived it, by a process of wearing down.' The grip of Homeric tradition on reality comes out in the role of Lemnos. This island is the natural basis of an army from overseas acting at the mouth of the Hellespont, whether in 1185 B.C. or in 1915 A.D.; and as such it appears in Homer. But, beyond the general setting and conditions, can we hope to discover in Homer anything of the nature of a true story? An epic poem is not a chronicle. In a work in which Clio and Calliope have collaborated, it may seem a hopeless problem to discriminate their contributions. And a full solution would have to determine both the poetical liberties with fact taken by the old minstrels, : and the later inventions wrought by the art of Homer into the woof which they bequeathed to him. To penetrate so far into the secrets of the epic is perhaps beyond human powers of analysis, but it may not be impossible to disengage some leading facts.

Probability must indeed be our guide. But arguments of probability which consider what is likely to have happened may profitably be distinguished from those which consider what is likely to have been handed down. It may be argued, for instance, that a war lasting ten years is a poetical fiction, because it appears highly improbable that Agamemnon could have kept together his various contingents far from their homes for so many summers and winters. But this consideration is far from being decisive; there may have been factors in the situation of which we are totally ignorant. The argument for accepting the tradition that an immediate cause of the war was the abduction of an Achæan queen by a Trojan prince is also based on probability, but it is of a different order. The episode is obviously a fundamental part of the original story, as told by the Achæan poets; and it is almost inconceivable that these bards, singing at the courts of the sons and grandsons of the heroes of the war, should have made the whole tale hang on an


incident which was a pure fiction. In the first case the argument for rejecting the tradition depends on view of what was likely to happen in circumstances with which we are only partly acquainted. In the second case the argument is that the simplest and most satisfactory explanation of the tradition is that it is based on truth. It may be pointed out that to accept the rape of Helen as immediately leading to the expedition against Troy is not inconsistent with the conclusion that the deeper causes of the war were economic; we may compare it with the affair of Epidamnos or with the murder of Serajevo.

In applying the test of probability we have one objective guide, the analogy of other epics which grew up under similar conditions, and for which we have some data to control their treatment of historical facts. Useful hints might be gained from a comparison of the cycle of Merovingian poetry, not preserved indeed in its original form, but copiously used by Fredegarius and the author of the Gesta Francorum.' Mr Leaf has made frequent use of Prof. Chadwick's instructive work, The Heroic Age,' in which the Greek and Teutonic epics are studied and compared. The results of comparisons of this kind point irresistibly to the conclusion that the leading Achæan heroes were not creatures of fiction but men of flesh and blood. The court minstrels of the twelfth century sang of their deeds to descendants who had not forgotten their names. Mr Leaf is assuredly right in asserting the reality of Agamemnon and Menelaus, Nestor and Achilles, Diomede and the Ajaxes. Nor can we logically hesitate to accept as historical the names of their fathers Atreus, Peleus, and the rest. At the point where the poet's knowledge of their ancestry ended, he often introduced a god or an eponymous hero. But, if we go so far, we must go farther. The argument which Mr Leaf applies to the Achæans must also be applied to the principal Trojan heroes. Priam and his father Laomedon, Hector and Paris, Æneas chief of the Dardanians, must have been real people.

The Troes are commonly stated to have been a branch of the Phrygians. It may be doubted whether this is true. In Homer there is no trace of a closer relationship of the Trojans with the Phrygians than with the Lycians;

Vol. 228.--No. 448.


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