Wandering Greeks (22 page)

When the blind and elderly Oedipus in Sophocles'
Oedipus at Colonus
appeals to the chorus to be allowed to reside within their territory, he commends Athens for being “the city that has more power than any other to give me, the wronged stranger, refuge, and more power than any other to come to my rescue” (ll. 261–62).

The literary topos of Athens offering a secure haven for the oppressed also occurs in oratory, as in the appeal by a Plataean representative discussed earlier (Isoc. 14.1):

Since we Plataeans are aware, Athenians, that you are accustomed eagerly to come to the help of those who have been wronged and since we know too that you most generously reward your benefactors, we come as
hiketeusontes
[suppliants] in the hope that you will not overlook the fact that we have been uprooted from our land in peacetime by the Thebans. And since many people have fled to you and have received all they required, we think that it is especially proper that you show consideration for our city.

Elsewhere Isocrates describes Athens as offering “the securest
kataphugê
[refuge]” to those who are oppressed, conclusive proof being that the city provided succor for the descendants of Heracles when they were returning to the Peloponnese after many generations (4.41, 54–56). It is perhaps telling that no more recent example of any note came to his mind.

The Athenians were clearly susceptible to the image of themselves as a humane society that was uniquely protective of the oppressed. No doubt it filled them with a sense of gratification and pride. We know, too, that they successfully promulgated it outside their borders and that it endured over time. Plutarch, writing in the late first century CE, states that Athens had already secured its reputation for hospitality to asylum-seekers by the time of Solon (that is, early sixth century BCE), when
“the city was teeming with people constantly flooding into Attica from all over the Mediterranean seeking refuge” (
Sol
. 22.1).

Did the Athenian
dêmos
live up to this vision in reality? I strongly suspect that, like every other community, it was receptive to refugees only when it suited its purpose to be so and that there was no more compassion in the breast of an average Athenian than there was in that of any other ancient Greek. The sobering fact remains, moreover, that there are virtually no historical instances of foreign asylum-seekers being granted residency in Athens. The 212 pro-Athenian Plataeans who escaped from their besieged city and were permitted to settle in Athens in 428/7 were accorded this right because their city was a valued ally (Thuc. 3.20.2). And when in 421 the Athenians resettled these same refugees in Scione on the western headland of Chalcidice, hundreds of miles from their homeland, they did so only after they had slaughtered all the men and enslaved the women and children who were living there (5.32.1). Other instances of Athenian “exceptionalism” were strictly
quid pro quo
. The Samians were offered Athenian citizenship in 405 because Samos had served as Athens's main naval base in the Aegean during the Peloponnesian War and had remained a loyal ally even after the crushing defeat at Aegospotami (
ML
94.12–15 = Fornara 166). Similarly the exiled Acarnanians were permitted to reside indefinitely in Athens because they had fought alongside the Athenians against Philip II of Macedon at the Battle of Chaeronea in 338 (IG II
²
237 =
SIG
³
259 = Rhodes and Osborne 77). In sum, what chiefly differentiated Athens from other
poleis
was not its treatment of refugees and asylum-seekers per se, but the fact that it was bound by a more complicated set of alliances than any other city-state.

Xenia and Proxenia

“Stranger, it is not right that I should disrespect a stranger, not even one who comes here who is more wretched than you,” declares the swineherd Eumaeus to Odysseus, when the latter returns to Ithaca in disguise. He then adds, “All strangers and beggars are under the protection of
Zeus” (Hom.
Od
. 14.56–58). Eumaeus is alluding to the religiously sanctioned institution known as
xenia
, a term loosely translated as “guest-friendship,” which placed both guest and host under the protection of Zeus Xenios, as well as under a reciprocal obligation to treat each other respectfully. I justify its inclusion in this chapter on the grounds that
xenia
is a species of asylum that may well have developed out of the same impulse to provide protection for those who were unprotected as that which promoted
asulia
.

Xenia
bound aristocrats and their direct descendants together in perpetuity. Just before the Greek Diomedes and the Trojan Glaucus are about to engage in single combat, they realize that their grandfathers were linked by
xenia
.” For this reason I am your
xeinosphilos
[friend and host] in the heart of Argos, and you are mine in Lycia, when I come to your land,” says Diomedes. They then exchange armor “so that others may know that we are guests and friends from the time of our fathers.” Glaucus, it turns out, comes off by far the worse, handing over his gold armor and receiving bronze in return (
Il
. 6.224–31).

But though
xenia
primarily served the needs of mobile aristocrats, Eumaeus's suggestion that it was occasionally practiced by persons of no social distinction, though idealistic, may not be wholly fantastical. After all, any Greek who was on the road would have had to throw himself at times on the mercy of strangers. There were few if any wayside inns, and sleeping under the stars would have been extremely dangerous. In fact it is highly likely that
xenia
came into being as a response to widespread mobility. And as we have seen already, it bound together Greeks and non-Greeks, particularly at the high end of the social scale. Herodotus informs us that when Croesus, king of Lydia, sent a messenger with gifts and requested an alliance with the Spartans, the latter “rejoiced in the arrival of the Lydians and swore oaths regarding both guest-friendship and an alliance” (1.69.1–3).

By the first half of the fifth century many states, including Athens, had placed the care of their members when traveling abroad in the hands of local citizens known as
proxenoi
(literally “those who represent
xenoi
”).
Proxenoi
were expected to provide those whose state they represented with hospitality and other services, particularly if they were
visiting dignitaries. They also represented them in court, when they fell foul of the law. For obvious reasons the ideal candidates for the position were wealthy aristocrats who had extensive connections abroad and were themselves well-traveled. A number of
proxenoi
were honored by the city they represented, at times by the grant of citizenship.

It is generally believed that
proxenia
had its origins in guest friendship, the plausible theory being that private ties of hospitality gradually evolved into public ones (Walbank 1978, 2–3). Like
xenia, proxenia
testifies to the prevalence of travel in the ancient world. From the archaic period onward there was an increasing flow of travelers moving throughout the Greek world, some to cities that were centers of trading activity, others to those that sponsored athletic games, and still others to cities that possessed a sanctuary of international repute.
Proxenia
offered those travelers who resided temporarily abroad some measure of protection and support.

¹
Chaniotis (1996, 83) offers a slightly more nuanced assessment: “At the latest from the early fifth century
asulia
and supplication were increasingly becoming claims which ought not to be respected automatically, but only after a close examination of each individual case.”

8
THE FUGITIVE

Fugitives in Archaic Literature

Murderers and homicides, condemned to live either on the margins of society or completely outside it, are prevalent in Greek literature. We already encounter them in Homer, often in hauntingly abbreviated passages that leave us uncertain as to what has brought these individuals to such a pass. All that we know about Bellerophon, for instance, is that Proteus of Argos drove him into exile “because he was far stronger” (
Il
. 6.157–59), although a later version states that he was falsely accused of attempting to seduce Proteus's wife. Having incurred the hatred of the gods, Bellerophon wandered along the Aleian or Wandering Plain, “eating his heart out, avoiding the path of men” (
Il
. 6.200–202). It sounds like a fate worse than death—solitary confinement in a boundless space where he and others of his kind traipse back and forth endlessly to no purpose and with no outcome. Was Bellerophon condemned to search out this path or did society's rejection force it upon him? Elsewhere we learn that he is a homicide, but the details are not spelled out.

Bellerophon was, to his cost, a loner, but Tlepolemus, the son of Heracles, enjoyed divine support, and that made all the difference to a man on the run. Having murdered his father's elderly uncle Licymnius, he assembled a small fleet, gathered a sizable company, and fled from his brothers and nephews. Eventually he arrived at Rhodes, “an
alômenos
[wanderer] and a man of sorrow”' where his luck changed dramatically. He was able to establish a settlement on the island with three tribal groupings. It clearly helped that he was “beloved of Zeus,” epecially since Zeus turned a blind eye to his crime. In fact Tlepolemus prospered so
much that he was able to contribute nine ships to the expedition to Troy, which indicates that he had managed to turn his life around (
Il
. 2.653–70).

Tlepolemus is not the only fugitive who manages to turn his life around in the
Iliad
. Another is Phoenix, who was cursed with infertility by his father after the latter discovers that he has slept with his slave mistress, which he did at the bidding of his jealous mother. Though his relatives tried to prevent him from fleeing, Phoenix managed to evade detection one night and “fled far away through Greece of the broad choruses” (9.46). He eventually arrived in Phthia, where Achilles' father Peleus granted him shelter. Peleus, we are told, “loved him as a father loves his only son, an only son who is brought up among many possessions”—an extraordinarily warm endorsement of his affection for the fugitive (9.481–82). He even gave him a small kingdom to lord over. In return, Phoenix acted
in loco parentis
to Achilles, who became devoted and regarded him as his mentor. Being incapable of procreating, Phoenix doted upon Achilles as if he were his own child, evidently in the forlorn hope that Achilles would look after him in old age.

Peleus, it seems, had a reputation for befriending fugitives. He took in Epeigeus, a Myrmidon who had unintentionally killed his own cousin. Epeigeus accompanied Achilles to Troy, though they do not seem to have been close friends (16.569–76). The infant Patroclus also found a warm reception under Peleus's roof when he was brought there by his father. He had killed one of his playmates, “not intentionally but in a rage when playing knucklebones,” as his ghost reminds Achilles when it is requesting that their ashes be interred in the same cinerary urn. Far from exhibiting any distrust toward Patroclus on account of his violent temper, Peleus nurtured the child and allowed him to be his son's playmate (23.83-92). Though Peleus may have been unusual in his readiness to take in fugitives, we should not discount the possibility that there were other aristocratic households willing to do the same if the fugitive in question could be put to use.