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Title: Stories From Thucydides

Author: H. L. Havell

Release Date: October, 2005  [EBook #9074]
[This file was first posted on September 3, 2003]

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STORIES FROM THUCYDIDES

RETOLD BY H. L. HAVELL B. A.

FORMERLY SCHOLAR OF UNIVERSITY COLLEGE OXFORD







  _O my poor Kingdom, sick with civil blows!_
                          SHAKESPEARE, _Henry IV_.




CONTENTS

PROLOGUE
CORINTH AND CORCYRA
THE SURPRISE OF PLATAEA
THE PLAGUE AT ATHENS
INVESTMENT OF PLATAEA
NAVAL VICTORIES OF PHORMIO
THE REVOLT OF LESBOS
ESCAPE OF TWO HUNDRED PLATAEANS. FALL OF PLATAEA
CAPTURE OF A HUNDRED AND TWENTY SPARTANS AT SPHACTERIA
CAMPAIGNS OF BRASIDAS IN THRACE
THE HOLLOW PEACE
THE ATHENIANS IN SICILY
EPILOGUE




PROLOGUE

In a former volume we have traced the course of events which ended in
the complete overthrow of Xerxes and his great army. Our present task
is to describe the chief incidents in the cruel and devastating war,
commonly known as the Peloponnesian War, which lasted for twenty-seven
years, and finally broke up the Athenian Empire. The cause of that war
was the envy and hatred excited in the other states of Greece by the
power and greatness of Athens; and in order to make our story
intelligible we must indicate briefly the steps by which she rose to
that dangerous eminence, and drew upon herself the armed hostility of
half the Greek world.

We take up our narrative at the point of time when the Athenians
returned to their ruined homes after the defeat of the Persians at
Plataea. Of their ancient city nothing remained but a few houses which
had served as lodgings for the Persian grandees, and some scattered
fragments of the surrounding wall. Their first task was to restore the
outer line of defence, and by the advice of Themistocles the new wall
took in a much wider circuit than the old rampart which had been
destroyed by the Persians. The whole population toiled night and day
to raise the bulwark which was to guard their temples and their homes,
using as materials the walls of the houses which had been sacked and
burnt by the Persians, with whatever remained of public buildings,
sacred or profane, and sparing not even the monumental pillars of
graves in the urgency of their need.

But jealous eyes were watching them, and busy tongues were wagging
against that gallant race of Attica which had been foremost in the
common cause against the barbarian invader. "These Athenians are
dangerous neighbours," was the cry. "Let us stop them from building
their wall, or Athens will become a standing menace to ourselves."
Before long these murmurs reached the ears of the Spartans, and they
sent envoys to dissuade the Athenians from fortifying their city.
Their real purpose was disguised under the mask of anxiety for the
general safety of Greece. "It is not expedient," they urged, "that the
Persians, when next they come against us, should find fencéd cities
which they may make their strongholds, as they have lately done in
Athens and in Thebes. Cease, therefore, from building this wall, and
help us to destroy all such defences, outside of Peloponnesus. If we
are attacked again, we will unite our forces within the isthmus, and
meet the invader from there."

But Themistocles was not the man to be hoodwinked by the simple
cunning of the Spartans. By his advice the Athenians dismissed the
envoys, promising to send an embassy to discuss the matter at Sparta.
As soon as they were gone, Themistocles caused himself to be appointed
as head of the embassy, and set out at once for Sparta, instructing
the Athenians to keep his colleagues back until the wall had been
raised to a sufficient height for purposes of defence. Arrived at
Sparta, he kept himself close in his lodging, and declined all
conference with the authorities, alleging that he could do nothing
without his colleagues.

Meanwhile the Athenians were making incredible efforts to carry on the
work which was essential to their liberty and prosperity. Men, women,
and children toiled without intermission, and the wall was rapidly
approaching a defensible height. The clamour of their enemies grew
louder and louder, and angry messages reached the Spartans everyday,
reproaching them with their supineness and procrastination. Being
asked the meaning of these reports, Themistocles professed total
ignorance, and bade the Spartans send men to Athens to see for
themselves. The Spartans did so, and when the men arrived at Athens
the Athenians, who had been privately warned by Themistocles, kept
them in custody, as hostages for their own representatives at Sparta.
Themistocles had meanwhile been joined by his partners in the embassy,
and learning from them that the wall was now of sufficient height, he
spoke out plainly, and let the Spartans understand what his true
purpose was. "Athens," he said, "is once more a fortified city, and we
are able to discuss questions of public or private interest on a
footing of equality. When we forsook all, and took to our ships to
fight for the common weal, it was done without prompting of yours; and
that peril being past, we shall take such measures as concern our
safety, without leave asked of you. And in serving ourselves, we are
serving you also; for if Athens is not free, how can she give an
unbiased vote in questions which concern the general welfare of
Greece?"

It was impossible for the Spartans to express open resentment at a
plea so moderate and so reasonable. But they were secretly annoyed to
find that their malice had been detected and exposed; and by this
incident was sown the first seed of ill-will which was afterwards to
bear such bitter fruit for Athens and for Greece. For the present,
however, the affair was ended, and the first step secured for the
Athenians in their career of glory and power.

Themistocles was the first who clearly saw that the future of Athens
lay on the sea. But if Athens was to hold and extend her position as
the first naval power in Greece, it was above all things necessary
that she should have a strong and fortified station for her fleets,
her arsenals, and her dockyards. Nature had provided her with what she
needed, in the peninsula of Peiraeus, which juts out into the Saronic
Gulf, about five miles south-west of the inland town. As soon as the
city-wall was completed, fortifications of immense strength were
carried round the whole of Peiraeus; and within this vast rampart rose
a second city, equal in size to the old one, with streets laid out in
straight lines, and filled with the stir and bustle of a maritime
population. Three land-locked harbours gave ample room for the fleets
of Athens to lie in shelter and safety; and this great sea-port town
was afterwards united to the original city by two long walls, which
met the sea, one at the north-western corner of Peiraeus, and the
other at the south-eastern point of the Bay of Phalerum. Between
these, at a later period, a third wall was built, running parallel to
the northern wall at a distance of about two hundred feet, and known
as the Southern or Middle Wall.

Many years elapsed before these important works were completed; and in
the meantime great events had been happening in other parts of the
Greek world, tending more and more to realise the dream of
Themistocles, and make his beloved city the undisputed mistress of the
sea. After the defeat of the Persian armies and fleets at Salamis,
Plataea, and Mycale, much hard work remained to be done, in reducing
the outlying cities on the coasts of Thrace and in the eastern corners
of the Aegaean, which held out for the Great King. The Spartans were
still nominal leaders of the allied Greek navy; but after a year of
service they resigned this position, which they owed to their
acknowledged supremacy in land warfare, to the Athenians. They were
induced to take this step, partly by their own aversion to foreign
enterprises, and partly by the misconduct of their general Pausanias,
who had disgusted the allies serving under him in the fleet by his
intolerable arrogance and tyranny. The field was thus left open to the
Athenians, who willingly assumed the command offered them by the
maritime cities of Greece, with the object of prosecuting the war
vigorously against Persia. Each city was assessed to furnish a fixed
contribution of ships or money, and the sacred island of Delos was
appointed as the common treasury and meeting-place of the league. Thus
was formed the famous Delian Confederacy, with the avowed purpose of
making reprisals on the Great King's territory for the havoc which he
had wrought in Greece. For a time all went smoothly, and the various
members of the league fought under Athens as her independent allies.
But by degrees the Greeks from the islands and coast-lands of Asia
began to weary of their arduous duties, and murmured against the
Athenians, who proved hard task-masters, and compelled them by force
to perform their part in the bargain. One by one the cities revolted
from the leadership of Athens, were attacked by her navies, and
reduced to the position of subjects and tributaries. Others
voluntarily withdrew from all active co-operation in the war, agreeing
to pay a fixed annual sum as a substitute for service in the fleet.
And before the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War the two powerful
islands of Lesbos and Chios were the only members of the original
league who still retained their independence.

Such were the circumstances which led to the foundation of the
Athenian Empire, which grew up, by the force of necessity, out of the
decay of a confederacy born of a common need, and organised for the
special benefit of the Asiatic Greeks. For the names of the Greek
cities on the coasts of Asia Minor still figured in the Persian
tribute-lists; and the moment that the grasp of Athens relaxed on the
confines of the King's dominions, after the ruinous defeat in Sicily,
Persian tax-gatherers came knocking at the gates of Ephesus and
Miletus, demanding the arrears of tribute. So urgent was the need
supplied by the energy of Athens, and so blind were these Greeks of
Asia Minor to their own interests.

The visible sign of this momentous change, by which the Delian
Confederacy became merged in the Athenian Empire, was the removal of
the treasury from Delos to Athens. The Athenians now undertook the
whole administration of the common fund, using the surplus for the
adornment of Athens by magnificent public buildings. This
appropriation seems reasonable enough, when we consider that the whole
burden of defending the eastern Greeks against Persia, and keeping the
barbarian out of Greek waters, now lay upon Athens. This great public
duty, which had been thrown upon her by the indifference of Sparta,
and the unmanly sloth of her own allies, was faithfully performed; and
she might well ask why she should be called upon to lavish the blood
of her own citizens for nothing. That Athens should be great,
splendid, and powerful, was not only a reward due to her public spirit
and devotion to the common cause, but also a guarantee for the general
dignity and liberty of Greeks. And we, who have still before us the
remnants of her temples and statues, and learn from them what man can
accomplish under the inspiration of great ideals, need not scan too
closely her claim to appropriate the funds which she employed for so
noble a purpose. For this was the great age of Grecian art, the age of
Phidias, Polycletus, Myron, and Polygnotus. The greatest of these was
Phidias; and in the Parthenon, or Temple of the Virgin Goddess,
[Footnote: Athene, the patron goddess of Athens.] built under his
direction on the Acropolis at Athens, he has left the most enduring
monument of his fame. He also designed the Propylaea, a magnificent
columned vestibule, fronting the broad flight of steps which led up to
the western entrance of the Acropolis. But the most renowned of his
works was the gigantic statue of the Olympian Zeus, wrought in gold
and ivory, which was the chief glory of the temple at Olympia. Of this
sublime creation, the highest expression of divinity achieved by the
ancients, only the fame survives. These triumphs of art were not
brought to completion until nearly the close of the period of forty-
eight years which separates the Persian from the Peloponnesian War;
and it is now necessary to glance backward, and touch briefly on the
principal events which occurred after the formation of the Delian
Confederacy. The war was carried on with energy against Persia, and
hostilities continued at intervals for thirty years after the battle
of Plataea. [Footnote: B.C. 479-449.]

The chief leader in these enterprises was the heroic Cimon, leader of
the conservative party at Athens, and the great rival of Pericles; and
his most brilliant exploit was a crushing defeat inflicted on the
Persian army and fleet at the mouth of the river Eurymedon in
Pamphylia. But the victorious career of the Athenians received a
severe check twelve years later in Egypt, where a large force of ships
and men was totally destroyed by the Persian general Megabyzus. The
war dragged on for five years longer, and peace was then concluded on
terms highly advantageous to the Greeks. Shortly before this, Cimon,
who had been the chief promoter of the war, died at Cyprus.

The same years which brought to a successful issue the long struggle
with Persia witnessed a renewal of those internal conflicts by which
the energies of Greece were finally exhausted, leaving her an easy
prey to the arms of Macedon. The guilt of renewing these suicidal
quarrels lies with the Spartans, who had long been nursing their
grudge against Athens, and were waiting for the opportunity to inflict
on her a fatal blow. Fifteen years [Footnote: B.C. 464. ] after the
battle of Plataea they seized the occasion when the Athenians were
engaged with a large part of their forces in carrying on operations
against the revolted island of Thasos to prepare an invasion of
Attica. But at the very moment when they were meditating this act of
perfidy a double disaster fell upon them at home, demanding all their
exertions to save them from ruin. Sparta was levelled to the ground by
a terrible earthquake, in which twenty thousand of her citizens
perished; and in the midst of the panic caused by this awful calamity
the Helots rose in arms against their oppressors, and forming an
alliance with the Messenian subjects of Sparta, entrenched themselves
in a strong position on Mount Ithome. Here they maintained themselves
for two years, defying all the efforts of the Spartans to drive them
from their stronghold. In spite of their recent treachery, the
Spartans were not ashamed to apply to Athens for help: and chiefly
through the influence of Cimon, whose laurels from the Eurymedon were
still fresh, four thousand Athenian hoplites [Footnote: Heavy-armed
foot-soldiers.] were sent under his command to aid in dislodging the
Helots. The Athenians were famous for their skill in attacking
fortified places; but on this occasion they were unsuccessful, and the
Spartans, whose evil conscience made them prone to suspicion, at once
began to doubt the honesty of their intentions, and dismissed them
with scant ceremony. This unfriendly act helped to embitter the
relations between the two leading cities of Greece; and two years
later, when the Messenians were expelled from Ithome, and driven into
exile, the Athenians settled them with their families at Naupactus, an
important strategic position on the north of the Corinthian Gulf,
which has recently fallen into the hands of Athens.

Deeply offended by the affront received at Ithome, the Athenians now
formed an alliance with Argos, the ancient rival and bitter enemy of
Sparta. Thessaly, connected with Athens by old ties of friendship,
joined the league; and Megara, now suffering from the oppressions of
Corinth, made a fourth.

Within sight of the shores of Attica lies the island of Aegina, famous
in legend as the home of Aeacus, grandfather of Achilles, and
distinguished for its school of sculpture, and for its mighty breed of
athletes, whose feats are celebrated in the laureate strains of
Pindar. The Aeginetans had obtained the first prize for valour
displayed in the battle of Salamis, and for many years they had
pressed the Athenians hard in the race for maritime supremacy. They
were now attacked by an overwhelming Athenian force, and after a
stubborn resistance were totally defeated, and compelled to enroll
themselves among the subjects of Athens. A still harder fate was
reserved for the hapless Dorian islanders in the next generation.

In the following nine years [Footnote: B.C. 456-447.] the power of
Athens reached its greatest height, and for a moment it seemed as if
she were destined to extend her empire over the whole mainland of
Greece. By the victory of Oenophyta, gained over the Boeotians just
before the reduction of Aegina, Athens became mistress of all the
central provinces of the Greek peninsula, from the pass of Thermopylae
to the gulf of Corinth. The alliance of Megara, lately united by long
walls to its harbour of Nisaea, secured her from invasion on the side
of Peloponnesus. The great island of Euboea, with its rich pastures
and fruitful corn lands, had, since the Persian War, become an
Athenian estate, and was jealously guarded as one of her most valuable
possessions; and on the sea, from the eastern corner of the Euxine to
the strait of Gibraltar, there was none to dispute her sway.

But this rapid ascent was followed by no less speedy a fall, and one
act of indiscretion stripped the Athenians of all the advantages which
they had acquired on the mainland of Greece. In every city of Greece
there were always two parties, the wealthy and noble, called
oligarchs, and the demos, or commons; and according as Spartan or
Athenian influence was in the ascendant the balance of power in each
city wavered between the nobles and the people, the Athenians
favouring the Many, the Spartans the Few. Accordingly there was always
a party living in exile, and waiting for a turn of affairs which might
enable them to return to their city, and wrest the power from that
faction which had been the last to triumph. In the cities of Boeotia
the leaders of the oligarchs had been driven into banishment after the
battle of Oenophyta, and democracies were established under the
control of Athens. After nine years of banishment these exiles
returned, and the result was an oligarchical reaction in the chief
cities of Boeotia. A hastily equipped and ill-organised force was sent
out from Athens to put down the authors of the revolution, and in the
battle which followed, at Coronea, [Footnote: B.C. 447.] the Athenians
sustained a severe defeat, and a large number of their citizens were
taken prisoners by the Boeotians. To recover these prisoners the
Athenians consented to evacuate Boeotia, and by this surrender they
lost their hold on central Greece, as far as Thermopylae.

This heavy blow was followed two years later by the revolt of Megara
and Euboea; and in the midst of the alarm thus occasioned, the
Athenians heard that a powerful Spartan army was threatening their
borders. It was a terrible moment for Athens; but she was saved by the
prudence and energy of Pericles, whose influence in her councils was
now supreme. By some means or other--as the Spartans asserted, by a
heavy bribe--he induced the Spartan king Pleistoanax to draw off his
forces; and then crossing over into Euboea, he quickly reduced the
whole island to submission, and took severe measures to prevent any
outbreak in the future.

The exertions of the Athenians during the last thirty years had been
prodigious, and their efforts to found an empire in continental Greece
had ended in total failure. Discouraged by their reverses, they
concluded a thirty years' truce with the Spartans and their allies,
resigning the last remnant of their recent conquests, and leaving
Megara in her old position as a member of the Peloponnesian league
under Sparta. The loss of Megara was severely felt, and her conduct in
the late troubles was neither forgotten nor forgiven. The Megarians
had by their own free choice been admitted into the Athenian alliance,
and in an hour of great peril to Athens, without shadow of pretext
they had risen in arms against her. It was not long before they had to
pay a heavy penalty for their treachery and inconstancy.

The last event which we have to record, before entering into the main
current of our narrative, is the secession of Samos, the most
important member of the maritime allies of Athens. This wealthy and
powerful island had hitherto, with Chios and Lesbos, enjoyed the
distinction of serving under Athens as an independent ally. The
Athenians, with a view to their own interests, had recently set up a
democracy in Samos, which had hitherto been governed by an oligarchy.
Incensed by this interference, the Samian nobles, who had been driven
into exile, hired a mercenary force, and making a sudden attack from
the mainland, overthrew the democracy and raised the standard of
revolt. The crisis called for prompt and vigorous action on the part
of Athens; for if Samos had been successful in defying her authority,
the other members of the league would speedily have followed the
example, and the whole fabric of her empire might have been shattered
to pieces. Pericles was again equal to the emergency, and by employing
the whole naval power of Athens he was able, after a siege of nine
months, to reduce the refractory islanders to submission. The Samians
were compelled to surrender their fleet, to pull down their walls, to
pay a heavy war indemnity, and to give hostages as a security for
their good conduct in the future. And henceforward they became
subjects and tributaries of Athens.

We have now completed our review of the chief events which occurred
between the Persian and Peloponnesian wars. It was a period of rapid
development for Athens, of ceaseless activity at home and abroad, of
immense progress in all the arts of war and peace. The imperial city
had now risen to her full stature, and stood forth, supreme in
intellect and in action, the wonder and envy of mankind. Her mighty
walls bade defiance to her enemies at home, and she held in her hand
the islands and coast-districts of the Aegaean, where the last murmur
of resistance had been quelled. Her recent reverses on the mainland of
Greece had left the real sources of her power untouched; and taught
her, if she would but take the lesson to heart, the proper limits of
her empire. And she had risen to this height, not by the prevailing
force of any single mind, but by the united efforts of all her
citizens, working together for a whole generation, shunning no
sacrifice, and shrinking from no exertion, in their devotion to the
common mother of them all. Every Athenian, from the wealthiest noble
to the poorest rower in the fleet, felt that he had a stake in the
country, which to a Greek meant the city, where he was born. He gave
his vote in the Parliament [Footnote: Called the Ecclesia.] of Athens,
and served on the juries chosen by lot from the whole body of the
citizens, before whose judgment-seat, unassailable by bribery or
intimidation, the mightiest offenders trembled. He was a statesman, a
judge, a lawgiver, and a warrior, and he might even hope to climb to
the highest place in the State, and rule, like Pericles, as a prince
of democracy. Around him rose the temples and statues of the gods,
fresh from the chisel of the artist, the visible symbols of Athenian
greatness, and of the grand ideals which he served. The masterpieces
of Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides opened to him the boundless
realms of the imagination, taught him grave lessons of moral wisdom,
and connected the strenuous present with the heroic past; and the Old
Comedy, the most complete embodiment of the very genius of democracy,
afforded a feast of wit and fancy for his lighter hours. If he had a
taste for higher speculation, he might hear Anaxagoras discoursing on
the mysteries of the spiritual world, or Zeno applying his sharp tests
for the conviction of human error. And when the assembly was summoned
to discuss matters of high imperial policy, he felt all the greatness
and majesty of the Athenian state, as he hung entranced on the lips of
Pericles.

Such was Athens in her prime, and such were the men who raised her to
the lofty eminence which she held among the cities of Greece. But the
years which had lifted her to that unparalleled height had raised up a
host of enemies against her, and it behoved her to temper ambition
with prudence if she would maintain the proud position which the held.
The scattered units which composed the Athenian empire were held
together by no tie of loyalty or affection to their common mistress,
but solely by the dread of her overwhelming naval power. Even in the
noblest spirits of ancient Greece, the feeling of patriotism, as we
understand it, was feeble and uncertain; when we speak of our
_country_, the Greek spoke of his _city_, and his love, his
hopes, his highest aspirations, were bounded by the narrow circuit of
the walls which contained the tombs of his ancestors and the temples
of his gods. This feeling, the most deeply-rooted instinct of Greek
political life, had been grievously offended by Athens, when she
compelled the islanders of the Aegaean, and the Greek cities of Asia,
to serve in her navies, and pay tribute to her exchequer.

Turning now to the mainland of Greece we find, in most of the leading
states, a sentiment of mingled fear and hatred against Athens, which
had been steadily increasing in volume in the course of the last
thirty years. The haughty Thebans had not forgotten their defeat at
Oenophyta, and their nine years of servitude to Athens. Aegina was
groaning under her yoke, and threatened with total political
extinction. Megara complained that her commerce was ruined by a decree
which excluded her merchants from the ports in the Athenian Empire. In
the heart of Peloponnesus the Spartans were hatching mischief against
their hated rival, who had robbed them of half their dignity as the
acknowledged leaders of the Greeks. Corinth, whose commerce was
chiefly in the western sea, outside the sphere of Athenian influence,
was disposed to be friendly, and had done the Athenians good service
during the revolt of Samos.[Footnote: See below, p. 31.] But five
years later [Footnote: B.C. 435.] an event occurred which changed this
feeling into bitter hatred against Athens, and drove the Corinthians
into the ranks of her most inveterate foes. And it is at this point
that we take up the main thread of our story.




STORIES FROM THUCYDIDES

CORINTH AND CORCYRA

I

It was in a remote corner of the Greek world that the trouble began
which was destined to breed such mischief and havoc for the whole of
Greece. At the beginning of the seventh century before our era the
island of Corcyra had been colonised by the Corinthians. The colony
grew and flourished, and in its turn founded other settlements on the
opposite coasts of Epirus and Illyria. Among these was Epidamnus,
called by the Romans Dyrrachium, and in Roman times the ordinary
landing-place for travellers from Italy to Greece. After many years of
prosperity the resources of Epidamnus were much crippled by internal
faction, and by wars with the neighbouring barbarians. Four years
before the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War, the nobles of Epidamnus,
who had been expelled in the last revolution, made an alliance with
the native tribes of Illyria, and by constant plundering raids reduced
the Epidamnians to such straits that they were compelled to apply to
Corcyra for help. But the Corcyraeans, whose sympathies were on the
side of the banished nobles, refused to interfere.

Epidamnus, as we have seen, was a colony founded by a colony, and
according to Greek custom the original settlers had been led by a
citizen of Corinth, the mother-city of Corcyra. Seeing, therefore,
that they had nothing to hope from the Corcyraeans, the distressed
people of Epidamnus began to turn their thoughts towards their ancient
metropolis, and considered whether they should appeal to her to save
them from ruin. But as this was a step of doubtful propriety, they
first consulted the oracle of Delphi, the great authority on questions
of international law. Receiving a favourable answer, they sent envoys
to Corinth, and offered to surrender their city to the Corinthians, in
return for their countenance and protection.

The Corcyraeans had long been in evil odour at Corinth, for they had
grown insolent in prosperity, and neglected all the observances which
were due from a colony to the mother-city. They were, in fact,
superior to the Corinthians in wealth and power, and their fleet,
numbering a hundred and twenty triremes, was second only to that of
Athens. Corcyra was famous in legend as the seat of the Phaeacians, a
heroic sailor race, whose deeds are sung by Homer in the
_Odyssey_; and the Corcyraeans regarded themselves as the lawful
inheritors of their fame. For all these reasons they despised the
Corinthians, and made no secret of their contempt. Remembering the
many occasions on which they had been publicly insulted by Corcyra,
the Corinthians lent a favourable ear to the petition of Epidamnus,
and determined to appropriate the colony to themselves. Accordingly
they invited all who chose to go and settle at Epidamnus, and sent the
new colonists under a military escort, with instructions to proceed by
land to Apollonia, for fear lest they should be obstructed by the
Corcyraean fleet, if they went by sea.

Great was the indignation at Corcyra when the news arrived that her
colony had been surrendered to Corinth, and a force of forty ships was
sent off in haste, bearing a peremptory demand to the Epidamnians that
they should receive back their exiles and send away the new colonists.
As the citizens refused to obey their mandate, they prepared to lay
siege to the town, which is situated on an isthmus.

When the Corinthians heard of the danger of Epidamnus, they began to
make preparations on a much larger scale, collecting a host of new
colonists, and a fleet of seventy-five ships to convoy them on their
passage to Epidamnus. Apprised of these proceedings, the Corcyraeans
sent envoys to Corinth, with a civil remonstrance against the
arbitrary interference with their own colony. They were willing, they
said, to submit the matter to arbitration, and in the meantime to
suspend all hostilities against the revolted city. But the Corinthians
paid no attention to their overtures, and all being now ready, the
great multitude, drawn from all parts of Greece, set sail for
Epidamnus. When they reached Actium, at the mouth of the Ambracian
Gulf, they were met by a herald, sent out from Corcyra in a skiff, to
forbid their approach. This was a mere manoeuvre, to throw the guilt
of commencing hostilities on the Corinthians; and meanwhile the
Corcyraeans manned their ships, to the number of eighty, and put out
to meet the enemy's fleet. In the sea-fight which followed the
Corcyraeans gained a complete victory, and on the same day Epidamnus
was compelled to capitulate to the besieging force.

By this victory the Corcyraeans gained complete command of the western
or Ionian sea, and for the rest of the summer they sailed from place
to place, plundering the allies of Corinth. The Corinthians, however,
were not at all disposed to acquiesce in their defeat, and during the
whole of the following year they were busy organising a fresh
expedition on a vast scale, being resolved at all costs to put down
the insolence of Corcyra. These preparations caused no small anxiety
to the Corcyraeans. Hitherto they had stood apart, and refused to take
any share in the complicated game of Greek politics. The course of
affairs during the last forty years had tended more and more to divide
the Greek world into two opposite camps, arrayed under the banners of
Athens and Sparta. As Dorians, the Corcyraeans would naturally have
enrolled themselves among the allies of Sparta,--as islanders and
seamen, they might have leaned to the side of Athens: but confident in
their remote situation, and in the power of their fleet, they had
chosen to remain neutral. But finding themselves threatened with
destruction, they now resolved to abandon their policy of selfish
isolation, and sue for admission into the Athenian alliance.
Ambassadors were sent to Athens to urge their plea; and the
Corinthians, hearing of their intention, sent representatives of their
own to oppose the application.

The Athenians were fully alive to the gravity of the question which
they were called upon to decide, and after listening to the arguments
of the Corcyraean and Corinthian orators, they adjourned the debate
until the next day. To Corinth they were bound by old ties of
obligation; for on three distinct occasions the Corinthians had done
them signal service. More than seventy years before the date which we
have reached, the Spartans summoned their allies to consider whether
it was expedient to compel the Athenians to receive back the banished
tyrant Hippias; and it was chiefly by the eloquence of the Corinthian
speaker Sosicles, who drew a vivid picture of the miseries of
despotical government, that they were shamed out of their purpose. A
few years later, when the Athenians were at war with Aegina, they were
aided by twenty Corinthian ships. And quite recently, in the great
peril which menaced Athens at the revolt of Samos, Corinth had once
more shown herself a friend. At a congress of the Peloponnesian
allies, summoned to consider an appeal from the Samians for help, the
Corinthians had spoken strongly against interference with the revolted
allies of another city. Corinth was a place of old renown, the queen
of the Isthmus, a centre of civilisation; whereas Corcyra was a remote
island, and her people, though Greeks by descent, were in manners and
character more than half barbarians.

But there were two arguments put forward by the Corcyraean orator,
which outweighed all other considerations of policy or friendship. The
first was addressed to the fears of the Athenians, the second to their
ambition. War, he argued, was inevitable, and it was of the utmost
importance for Athens to secure the alliance of the Corcyraean fleet,
and prevent it from being added to the naval forces of her enemies.
And his concluding words struck a note which found a response among
the more daring spirits among his hearers, whose thoughts, as it would
seem, were already turning to the western colonies of Greece, as a new
field of enterprise and conquest. "It will not do," he said, "to be
too nice. While you are hesitating, and weighing nice points of
international right, you will be outdistanced in the race for power,
if you tamely give up a great naval station which holds the key to
Italy and Sicily."

Such reasoning, hollow and false as it was, turned the scale in favour
of Corcyra, and a defensive alliance was concluded, pledging the
Athenians and Corcyraeans to aid each other against any attack on the
territory or allies of either state. For the Athenians wished to avoid
breaking the Thirty Years' Truce, and therefore refrained from
entering into any agreement which might oblige them to acts of open
aggression against Corinth.

There can be little doubt that Pericles, who was mainly responsible
for this decision, committed a fatal error in advising the Athenians
to take up the cause of Corcyra. By this act Athens incurred the
implacable hostility of Corinth, and revived the old grudge which that
city had conceived against her when Megara joined the Athenian
alliance. In the constantly shifting currents of Greek politics,
Athens might well, under wise guidance, have steered her way safely
through the perils which surrounded her. The Corinthians had half
forgotten their grievance, as is proved by their conduct at the revolt
of Samos; and the tone of their representative at the Corcyraean
debate is decidedly friendly. The Spartans were sluggish and
procrastinating by nature, and required some powerful impulse to
induce them to act with vigour; and this impulse was now supplied by
Corinth. By accepting, therefore, the alliance of Corcyra, Athens
barred the way to all compromise, and gathered into one head all the
scattered causes of jealousy and hatred which had been accumulating
against her in the last fifty years.

Early in the following year the Corinthian fleet, numbering a hundred
and fifty sail, put to sea from Corinth, to renew the war with
Corcyra, and a battle was fought off the coast of Epirus. The
engagement was long and fierce, and the event was finally decided by a
small squadron of Athenian ships, which had been sent with
instructions to hinder any attempt of the enemy to land on the island
Seeing that the Corcyraeans were being forced back upon their own
coast, the Athenian captains, who had hitherto looked on, and taken no
part in the battle, now assumed the offensive, and lent such effectual
aid that the Corinthians were held in check until the sudden
appearance of twenty additional ships from Athens, which had been sent
off immediately after the others, put an end to the action. This
timely interference saved Corcyra from ruin; for next day the
Corinthians, after a formal remonstrance, set sail for home, taking
with them two hundred and fifty prisoners, belonging to the noblest
families in Corcyra, whom they kept in safe custody, but treated with
great consideration, hoping by means of them at some future time to
recover their influence in the island.


II

It was not long before the effects of this impolitic breach with
Corinth were sensibly felt by Athens. In the course of the following
summer, Potidaea, a Corinthian colony, situated on the borders of
Macedon, and included in the Athenian alliance, openly raised the
standard of revolt, encouraged by promises from Sparta, and by the
presence of a strong body of hoplites, sent for its support from
Corinth. Potidaea was presently closely invested by an Athenian army
and fleet, and the Corinthians pretended to make this a fresh ground
of complaint, though they had themselves incited the city to throw off
its allegiance to Athens.

Feeling that matters were now approaching a crisis, the Spartans
summoned a congress of their allies, and invited all who had any
grievance against Athens to state their case. Then some spoke of the
wrongs of Aegina, formerly not the least among Greek cities, but now
so crushed under the yoke of Athens that she had not dared to raise
her voice openly against the tyrant-city. The Megarians complained of
the restrictions on their commerce, which threatened them with an
empty exchequer and a starving population; and others followed in the
same strain. When all the rest had spoken, the Corinthian orator, who
had reserved his eloquence till the end, came forward and delivered a
vehement harangue, containing hardly any specific charge against
Athens, but well calculated to inflame the passions and provoke the
pride of the Spartans. Though the acknowledged leader of Greece, and
champion of her liberties, Sparta, he said, had always been the last
to see the dangers which menaced the common country, and the last to
take measures for her defence. Spartan apathy and indolence had
brought the Greeks to the brink of ruin in the Persian War; and when
that danger was passed, the same fatal indifference had enabled Athens
to advance step by step on the path of aggrandisement; until now she
had grown so strong that the united force of the whole Peloponnesian
league would be required to put her down. Why had not the Spartans
listened to the warnings which they had heard, when the Athenians were
rebuilding their walls? Then they might have stopped the evil at its
source, and saved a multitude of cities from slavery and oppression.
"Consider," cried the orator, warming to his subject, "what manner of
men these Athenians are, and how vast is the difference between them
and you. While you are shut up in this inland valley, treading the
dull round of mechanical routine, they are continually pushing forward
the boundaries of their empire, toiling night and day to make their
city great, never satisfied with what they have, always thirsting for
more. Cautious, timid, and conservative as you are, hardly to be
roused from your sloth by the most imminent perils, how can you hope
to curb the flight of Athenian ambition, which knows no limit, and is
checked by no reverse?

"Men of Sparta, I speak as a friend, and you will not take my candour
amiss. New times require new manners, and if you would maintain your
great position you must move with the march of events, and abandon
your old-fashioned ways. Do not mistake stagnation for stability, but
learn a lesson even from these hated Athenians, who have risen to
their present pitch of greatness by adapting themselves to every new
need as it arose.

"You know what you have to do, if you would wipe out the reproach
which rests upon you, and keep the respect of your faithful allies.
Send an army into Attica, and compel the Athenians to withdraw their
forces from Potidaea. And let it be done speedily, for while we are
talking our kinsmen are perishing."

It happened that an Athenian embassy was present in Sparta, having
been sent there on some other business, and not for the purpose of
representing Athens at the debate. But when they heard of the outcry
which had been raised against their city, the envoys asked permission
for one of their number to address the Spartan assembly, wishing to
explain the true character and origin of the Athenian Empire, and to
warn the Spartans against plunging the whole country into the horrors
of civil war. Leave being granted, the Athenian orator entered on his
subject by sketching the course of events for the last sixty years.
Athens, he said, had twice saved Greece, first at Marathon, and
afterwards at Salamis. On the first of these occasions she had stood
almost alone against an overwhelming force of Persians; and ten years
later, though betrayed by her allies, she had borne the brunt against
the navy of Xerxes. Who, then, was worthier than she to hold empire
over Greeks? That empire had been forced upon her by the inertness of
Sparta, and by the cowardice and sloth of her own allies in the Delian
league. The power thus gained had been used with moderation, in marked
contrast to the previous tyranny of Persia exercised over the same
cities, and the arrogance of Spartan officers when engaged on foreign
service. But a light yoke, it would seem, was harder to bear than a
heavy one; if Athens had openly oppressed her subjects, she would
never have heard a murmur.

Having thus tried to combat the prejudice against Athens, the orator
addressed himself directly to the Spartans, and said: "Consider the
awful responsibility which you will incur, if you suffer yourselves to
be carried away by the invectives of your allies, and drive us against
our will to tempt with you the dark uncertainties and perilous issues
of war. There is still time for an amicable settlement of our
differences: Athens is prepared to make all reasonable concessions,
and to submit to arbitration, as the terms of the treaty direct. And
if you decline to accept this offer, the guilt of the aggressor will
lie with you."

It is remarkable that the speaker, in tracing the later course of
Athenian policy, lays no claim to those high motives of patriotism
which had inspired his people with sublime self-devotion two
generations back. He boldly asserts the principle that it is lawful
for the stronger to rule the weaker, and claims merit for Athens in
abstaining from excessive abuse of her power. The Athenians, we may
believe, had been tainted by the baseness of their confederates. In
the early days of the Delian league they had not attempted to educate
the Greeks whom they led up to the standard of their own splendid
zeal,--or, if the attempt had been made, it was unsuccessful. They had
taken upon themselves the whole burden of a great public duty, and
standing alone, without moral support from their countrymen, they had
gradually fallen away from the pure and lofty virtues of their
ancestors. This decay of public morality proceeds with rapid strides
in the years which follow, and we shall presently hear the doctrine
that might is right proclaimed with cynical frankness by the lips of
an Athenian.

Having heard the complaints of their allies against Athens, and the
reply of the Athenian orator, the Spartans ordered all but those of
their own race to withdraw, and continued the debate with closed
doors. A great majority of the speakers were in favour of declaring
immediate war on Athens. But there was one important exception: the
aged Archidamus, who for the last fourteen years had been reigning as
sole king at Sparta, spoke strongly against the imprudence of assuming
the aggressive, before they had made adequate preparations to cope
with the offending city. It was an opinion generally held by the war-
party that the Athenians would be ready to make any concessions, in
order to save the land of Attica from ravage. This, said Archidamus,
was a great error; and the event proved that he was right. The
Athenians, with their great colonial empire, and complete command of
the sea, were quite independent of the products of their own estates
in Attica. And many years must elapse before the states of
Peloponnesus could train a fleet, and attack them on the sea, where
alone they were assailable. It was folly to suppose that such a
contest could be decided by a single summer campaign, as was commonly
believed by the enemies of Athens. "I fear rather," said the king,
with prophetic foresight, "that we shall leave this war as an
inheritance to our children; such is the power, and such the pride, of
the state with which we have to contend." On the other hand, the
Spartans, as champions of the liberties of Greece, must not allow the
common oppressors of their countrymen to continue their career of
tyranny unchecked. Let them first, however, try what could be effected
by negotiation, and in the meantime prepare for war, by building
ships, and above all by collecting money, without which all their
valour would be useless. Then, if Athens still refused to listen to
reason, they might declare war with better hope of success.

The speech of Archidamus shows a true insight into the nature of the
crisis which the Spartans were called upon to face, and his views were
amply justified by subsequent events. His wise words were no doubt
applauded by the older and more sober-minded among his hearers. But
there was another and a much more numerous party at that time in
Sparta, filled with bitter envy and hatred against Athens. Their
passions had been inflamed by the invectives of the Corinthian orator,
and without counting the cost they were resolved to try the issues of
immediate battle. Their blind rancour found expression in the curt and
pithy harangue of Sthenelaidas, one of the five Ephors, a college of
magistrates which in recent years had greatly encroached on the
authority of the kings. Sthenelaidas spoke with true laconic brevity.
"I don't understand," he said, "all the fine talk of these Athenians.
They have told us a great deal about their own merits, but have not
said a word in answer to the charges brought against them. Even if we
accept their own account of themselves, their good conduct in the past
only lends a darker colour to their present crimes. We have one plain
duty to perform, and that is to save our faithful allies from ill-
treatment. The time for words is past--leave them to the transgressor.
Our part is to act, at once, and with all our might, and put down the
overwhelming insolence of Athens."

Then, in his capacity as Ephor, Sthenelaidas, without staying for
further argument, forthwith put the question to the Spartan assembly.
According to their ordinary procedure, the Spartans gave their votes
by cries of "Ay" and "No." But on this occasion Sthenelaidas pretended
to be unable to distinguish whether the "Ays" or "Nos" had it, and
wishing to encourage the war-party by showing how much they were in
the majority, he ordered the house to divide on the question whether
the treaty was broken, and whether the Athenians were in the wrong or
not. The division was made, and a great majority were in favour of the
motion, recording their votes against Athens. The allies were then
called in, and informed to the result of the private debate, and a day
was named for a general synod of the whole Peloponnesian league, to
reconsider the situation and decide whether war was to be declared.

In the interval, before the final assembly of the allies, the Spartans
sent to ask the oracle at Delphi whether it was expedient for them to
make war; and the answer, according to common report, was that if they
fought with all their might they would conquer, and that the god
[Footnote: Apollo.] would be on their side. The Corinthians were at
the same time carrying on an active canvass against Athens, sending
their agents from city to city to blow up the flames of war.

In the autumn of the same year the allies met in full synod at Sparta,
and once more the Corinthian speaker led the cry against Athens, and
called for a unanimous war-vote, flattering his hearers with hopes of
a speedy victory. The Spartans, he said, had at last set a good
example to their allies, and shown themselves convinced that imperial
cities had imperial obligations, by pronouncing in favour of war.
Every member of the league must join heartily in the struggle, whether
he belonged to an inland or to a maritime city; for if the seaports
were closed by the Athenian fleets, the inland towns would be
prevented from exporting their products, and importing what they
wanted from abroad. War, then, was in the interest of the whole body
of allies. And on the moral side their position was equally sound, for
they were only acting on desperate provocation, and the common god of
Greece had promised success to their arms. But to deserve that
success, all must co-operate heartily, contributing freely from their
private purses to raise a fleet which would make them a match for
Athens on her own element. And they must watch the course of events
with a vigilant eye, and be ready to seize any opportunity which might
arise to aim a decisive blow at their common enemy. Let them be warned
by the experience of the Ionians, and put out all their strength to
save themselves from being swallowed up by the devouring ambition of
Athens. Justice, heaven's favour, the good-will of all Greece, were on
their side.

Others spoke to the same effect, and then the representatives of each
city were called up in turn to give their vote; and by far the greater
number voted for war. But many months elapsed before any overt act of
hostility occurred, and the time was occupied in preparations for an
invasion of Attica, and in a series of demands sent by Sparta to try
the temper of the Athenians, and put them in the wrong, if they
refused to comply. The first of these messages was conveyed in
mysterious terms, bidding the Athenians "to drive out the curse of the
goddess." The meaning of this was as follows: nearly two hundred years
before a certain Cylon tried to make himself tyrant of Athens: the
attempt was frustrated, and some of his adherents, who had taken
refuge in the sacred precinct of Athene, were put to death by the
magistrates, after they had surrendered under a solemn promise that
their lives should be spared. The illustrious family of the
Alcmaeonidae was especially concerned in this act of murder and
sacrilege, and the Spartans, in reviving the memory of an ancient
crime, were aiming a blow at Pericles, who was descended on his
mother's side from the Alcmaeonidae. For the Athenians were highly
sensitive in all matters of religion, and it was possible that they
might even banish Pericles, if their consciences were suddenly
alarmed. And though this was not likely, the Spartans hoped at any
rate to lessen his influence, which was adverse to themselves, and
fasten on him the odium of being, in some sense, the cause of the war.
But their manoeuvre was unsuccessful, and the Athenians retorted by
bidding the Spartans drive out the curse of Taenarus, in allusion to
the murder of certain Helots who had taken sanctuary in the temple of
Poseidon at Taenarus. And they further charged the Spartans to rid
themselves of the curse of Athene of the Brazen House. This was a holy
place in Sparta, where Pausanias, when convicted of treasonable
correspondence with Persia, had sought refuge from the vengeance of
the Spartans. He was kept a close prisoner in the temple by the
Ephors, who set a watch on him, to prevent him from being supplied
with food, and when he was reduced to the last extremity, brought him
out to die. But though his death occurred outside the temple, this did
not save them from the sin of sacrilege, and a public reprimand by the
Delphic God.

The game of diplomatic fencing went on for some time, and envoys were
continually passing to and fro between Athens and Sparta. The
Athenians were required to raise the siege of Potidaea--to allow the
Aeginetans to govern themselves--to rescind the decree against Megara;
and when all these demands were met by a firm refusal, the Spartans
sent two ambassadors, bearing their ultimatum, which was worded as
follows: "The Lacedaemonians wish that there should be peace, and war
may be averted if ye will let the Greeks go free." Knowing that the
decisive moment had now arrived, the Athenians met together in full
assembly, to decide on their final answer. There were many speakers on
either side, some arguing for peace, others for war: and then was
heard that majestic voice, which, for more than thirty years, had
guided the counsels of Athens--the voice of the Olympian Pericles. He
had chosen his line of policy a year before, in the fatal affair of
Corcyra, and it was now too late to draw back: peace with honour was
no longer possible for Athens. The furious zeal of Corinth had united
her enemies against her, and they were bent on her ruin. The demands
put forward by Sparta were a mere pretext, and if the Athenians had
yielded the smallest point, new concessions would have been required
of them, until they were stripped of all that had been won by the
strenuous toil and devotion of two generations. "We must listen," said
Pericles, in the course of a long speech, "to no proposal from Sparta
which is not made as from an equal to an equal. Dictation is not
arbitration. If we are to fight at all, the occasion matters little,
be it small or great. What right has Sparta to require of us that we
should rescind the decree against Megara, when her own laws jealously
exclude all strangers from entering her streets? Or why should we
relax our hold upon our allies, or break off the relations with them
which were sanctioned by the Thirty Years' Truce? No, all this is a
mere pretence, and if we are deceived by it, we shall be led on step
by step to deeper and still deeper humiliation. It may seem a hard
thing to give up the fair land of Attica to pillage and devastation.
But think how far greater was the sacrifice made by our grandsires,
who refused the fairest offers from Persia, and gave up all they had,
rather than betray the common cause. Athens and Attica were then all
the country they had, and these lost they had nothing left but their
ships, their strong arms, and their stout hearts. In our case, on the
other hand, all the essential elements of our power--our city, our
fleet, our colonial empire--remain untouched. Shall we, then, sell our
honour to save a few vineyards and olive-grounds from temporary
damage? That would be a short-sighted policy indeed, and in the end
would involve not only dishonour, but the loss of our whole empire.
Let us act, then, in the spirit of our fathers, and send away the
Spartan ambassadors with the only answer which is consistent with our
dignity and our interest."

The reply to the Spartan ultimatum was framed as Pericles had
directed, and from this moment all negotiations ceased. And here we
close our account of the events which led to the Peloponnesian War.




THE SURPRISE OF PLATAEA

I

On the northern slope of Cithaeron, the mountain range which divides
Attica from Boeotia, lies the little town of Plataea. By race and by
geographical position the Plataeans were naturally included in the
Boeotian confederacy, under the leadership of Thebes. But nearly a
century before the time of which we are now speaking they had deserted
the Thebans, whose rule was harsh and overbearing, and enrolled
themselves among the allies of Athens. On the eve of the battle of
Marathon, they had joined the Athenians with their whole force, a
thousand strong, and shared the peril and the honour of that glorious
day. Ten years later their city was laid in ruins by the army of
Xerxes, at the instigation of the Thebans; and in the following year
the great battle which ended the long struggle between Greece and
Persia was fought within sight of their shattered walls. In gratitude
for this great victory, the confederate Greeks under Pausanias
declared that the Plataean territory should be hallowed ground, and
swore a solemn oath to maintain the independence of the city. But the
Thebans had never forgotten or forgiven the secession of Plataea from
the confederacy of which they were the leaders; and seizing the
opportunity while the Athenians were occupied with measures for their
own safety, they made a treacherous attempt to gain possession of the
town.

On a dark and moonless night in the early spring three hundred armed
Thebans appeared before the gates of Plataea, which were opened to
them by a party of the citizens who favoured their design. Marching in
a body to the market-place, they made proclamation by a herald,
inviting all who chose to return to their allegiance, and take sides
with their lawful leaders, the Thebans. For they wished, if possible,
to gain over the place without bloodshed, and before the war had
actually broken out; otherwise, they might have to give it up again on
the conclusion of peace.

The Plataeans, being wakened out of their first sleep, and thinking
that the Thebans were in much greater force than was really the case,
at first attempted no resistance, but were disposed to accept the
terms offered them. But perceiving by degrees that their enemies were
far weaker in numbers than themselves, they changed their minds, and
resolved to attack them. For the party which had betrayed the town was
but small, and the general body of the citizens detested the thought
of falling once more under the supremacy of Thebes. Their measures
were taken with great secrecy and despatch: to avoid exciting the
suspicions of the Thebans, they broke down the dividing walls of their
houses, and passed to and fro unobserved, until they had completed
their preparations. To embarrass the movements of the Thebans, they
barricaded the streets with waggons, and then, just before daybreak,
they poured out of their houses, and fell upon the enemy, who were
still stationed in the market-place. Though taken by surprise, the
Thebans defended themselves stoutly, and standing shoulder to shoulder
repulsed the assault of the Plataeans two or three times. But they
were greatly inferior in numbers, wearied by their long vigil, and
soaked with the heavy rain which had fallen in the night; the
Plataeans returned again and again to the attack, assailing them with
furious cries; and the women and slaves who crowded the roofs added to
their discomfiture, pelting them with tiles and stones, and stunning
their ears with a frightful uproar of yells and shrieks; so that at
last their hearts failed them, and breaking their ranks they fled
wildly through the streets. Some succeeded in reaching the gate by
which they had entered, but only to find that their escape was cut off
in this direction; for one of the Plataeans had closed the gate, using
the spike of his javelin to secure the bolt. Others lost their way in
the narrow and muddy streets, and wandered up and down until they were
slain by the Plataeans. A few contrived to escape by an unguarded
postern-gate, having cut through the bolt with an axe given them by a
woman. Others, in despair, flung themselves from the walls, and for
the most part perished. But a good number, who had kept together, were
caught in a trap; for coming to a large building which abutted on the
wall, and finding the doors open, they thought that they had reached
the town-gate, and rushed headlong in. The pursuers, who were close at
their heels, made fast the doors, and then the question arose what
they should do with their captives. Some proposed to set fire to the
building, and to burn it down, with the Thebans in it; but at last
those who were thus taken, and the few who were still straggling in
the town, were allowed to surrender at discretion.

Meanwhile a strong reinforcement of Thebans, who had started after the
three hundred, were on the way to Plataea; but being delayed by the
state of the roads, and the swollen condition of the Asopus, which
they had to cross, they arrived too late. Being informed of what had
happened, they prepared to plunder the property of the Plataeans
outside the walls, and seize any of the citizens who crossed their
path, to serve as hostages for their own men in the town. The
Plataeans, perceiving their intention, sent a herald to remonstrate,
threatening that unless they desisted, all the Theban prisoners should
at once be put to death. And they promised further, under an oath,
that if the Thebans would withdraw their forces, the captives should
be restored--at least this was the account which was afterwards
current at Thebes, though the Plataeans denied that they had made any
such promise unconditionally, and declared that they had sworn no
oath. It seems probable that the Thebans had received some such
explicit assurance as they asserted; for, on receiving the answer from
Plataea, they marched away without doing any harm. No sooner were they
gone than the Plataeans made all haste to get their property within
the walls, and then put all their prisoners to death. The day was not
far distant when they were bitterly to rue this act of passion, which
was not only cruel, but grossly impolitic; for the Thebans thus slain
in cold blood, a hundred and eighty in number, would have been
invaluable as hostages, whereas the Plataeans had now cut themselves
off from all hope of reconciliation with Thebes, and virtually sealed
their own fate.

Two messengers had been despatched from Plataea to Athens, one after
the first entrance of the Thebans, and the second after their defeat
and capture; and the Athenians, on receiving the second message, sent
off a herald bidding the Plataeans to wait for further instructions,
before taking any steps against the prisoners. When the herald
arrived, he found the men already slain, and the Athenians then
proceeded to place the town in a state of defence, removing the women
and children and all those who were unfit for military service, to
Athens, and leaving a small body of their own citizens to direct
operations.


II

The surprise of Plataea was the first open violation of the Thirty
Years' Truce, and from this time forward all Greece was involved for
many years in civil war. Public opinion was strongly on the side of
the Spartans, who stood forward as champions of the liberties of
Greece; but there was great enthusiasm on both sides, and the popular
imagination was much excited by the approaching struggle between the
two imperial cities. Both in Sparta and in Athens there was a younger
generation, who had grown up during a long period of peace, and now
entered gaily into the contest with all the light-hearted ignorance of
youth. Old prophecies current among the people, foretelling a great
war of Greeks against Greeks, passed from mouth to mouth, and the
professional soothsayers, whose business it was to collect and expound
such sayings, found eager hearers. The gods themselves could not be
indifferent on the eve of such mighty events, so deeply affecting the
destiny of the nation which worshipped them in a thousand temples; and
an earthquake, which had recently occurred at Delos, the sacred island
of Apollo, where such a visitation had never been known before, was
interpreted as a portent of great things to come.

While the Peloponnesians were mustering their forces at the Isthmus,
the rural population of Attica were breaking up their homes, and
flocking by thousands into the city. A constant stream of waggons
passed along the roads, loaded with furniture, household utensils, and
even the woodwork of the farm-buildings; and many a little group of
women, children, and servants set out on that sorrowful journey,
leaving their fields, their gardens, and their vineyards, to be
trampled down and laid waste by the ruthless invader. Athens, indeed,
was the common mother of them all, their glory, their strength, and
their pride; for since the days of Theseus the scattered rural
communities of Attica had been united under the Aegis of Athene, and
acknowledged Athens as the head and centre of their civic life. But a
large proportion of the Athenian citizens still continued to reside in
the country, and all their dearest associations were connected with
the little spot of earth where they and their fathers were born. Here
were the graves of their ancestors, and the temples of the heroes who
were the guardian spirits of each little aggregate of families. It was
therefore with bitter and resentful feelings that they left these
happy scenes behind them, and turned their steps towards the gates of
the city, through which many of them were never to pass again. For all
of them it was a grievous change from the free and careless life of
the country-side to the confined space, polluted air, and jostling
multitudes of the town, now crowded to overflowing. Some few found
shelter in the houses of friends or relations; but by far the greater
number were obliged to encamp in the open spaces of the city, in the
precincts of temples, or in the narrow room between the Long Walls.
Even a place beneath the Acropolis, called the Pelasgic Field, was now
covered with the huts of the immigrants, though an ancient oracle had
forbidden its occupation under a curse. From day to day new crowds
kept flocking in, and the later comers were obliged to take up their
dwelling in Peiraeus, which was soon almost as much overcrowded as the
upper city.

And now the younger generation of Athenians, who had entered so
cheerfully into the conflict, were to have their first taste of the
grim realities of war. The Peloponnesian army advanced leisurely, and
proceeded at first to Oenoe, an outlying fort near the borders of
Boeotia; for Archidamus, who held the chief command, still hoped that
the Athenians, when they saw the enemy on the confines of Attica,
would make some concessions, to save their farms from destruction. For
this reason he had long delayed his march from the Isthmus, and now
wasted more time in fruitless operations at Oenoe, until the allies
began to murmur against him, and suspected him of receiving bribes
from the Athenians to spare their lands. At last, being unable to put
off the fatal moment any longer, he turned southwards, and after
ravaging the plain of Eleusis, advanced to Acharnae, one of the most
fertile and prosperous districts of Attica, about seven miles north of
Athens. Here the Peloponnesians encamped, and applied themselves
systematically to the work of pillage and havoc.

Great was the rage of the Acharnians, a hardy race of farmers and
charcoal-burners, when they saw the smoke rising from their ruined
homesteads; and their feelings were shared by the general body of the
citizens, who had watched the advance of Archidamus from Eleusis, and
had now no hope of saving their estates. Little knots of angry
disputants were seen in the streets and public places, for the most
part clamouring against Pericles, and demanding to be led against the
invader, while some few argued for the more prudent course. But
Pericles, who knew the fickle temper of the multitude, turned a deaf
ear to all this uproar, and steadily refused to summon an assembly,
lest some hasty resolution should be passed, which would lead to
useless loss of life. In order, however, to relieve the public
excitement, he sent out a body of horsemen to skirmish with the enemy,
and despatched a fleet of a hundred triremes to ravage the coasts of
Peloponnesus.

When the first invasion of Attica was over, two cities, which had been
foremost in stirring up war against Athens, were made to feel the full
weight of her resentment. The unhappy Aeginetans were expelled from
their island, and the land of Aegina was distributed among Athenian
citizens. And later in the same summer the Athenians marched in full
force into the territory of Megara, which was laid waste from end to
end. This proceeding, which afforded a pleasant summer excursion to
the Athenians, was repeated annually for the next seven years. The
banished Aeginetans found an asylum at Thyrea, a coast district of
eastern Peloponnesus, which was assigned to them by Sparta. And so the
first year of the war came to an end; for, except on extraordinary
occasions, no military operations were undertaken during the winter.




THE PLAGUE AT ATHENS

I


At the beginning of the next summer the Peloponnesians again entered
Attica, and resumed their work of devastation, destroying the young
crops, and wrecking whatever had been spared in the previous year.
Before they had been many days in Attica, a new and far more terrible
visitation came upon the Athenians, threatening them with total
extinction as a people. We have seen how the whole upper city, with
the space between the Long Walls, and the harbour-town of Peiraeus,
was packed with a vast multitude of human beings, penned together,
like sheep in a fold. Into these huddled masses now crept a subtle and
unseen foe, striking down his victims by hundreds and by thousands.
That foe was the Plague, which beginning in Southern Africa, and
descending thence to Egypt, reached the southern shores of the
Mediterranean, and passed on to Peiraeus, having been carried thither
by seamen who trafficked between northern Africa and Greece. From
Peiraeus it spread upwards with rapid strides, and before long the
whole space within the walls presented the appearance of a vast lazar-
house.

From the description of the symptoms we may conclude that this
epidemic was similar to that dreadful scourge of mankind which has
been almost conquered by modern science, the small-pox. The patient
who had taken the infection was first attacked in the head, with
inflammation of the eyes, and violent headache. By degrees the poison
worked its way into the whole system, affecting every organ in the
body, and appearing on the surface in the shape of small ulcers and
boils. One of the most distressing features of the disease was a
raging thirst, which could not be appeased by the most copious
draughts of water; and the internal heat, which produced this effect,
caused also a frightful irritability of the skin, so that the sufferer
could not bear the touch of the lightest and most airy fabrics, but
lay naked on his bed, in all the deformity of his dire affliction. Of
those who recovered, many bore the marks of the sickness to their
graves, by the loss of a hand, a foot, or an eye; while others were
affected in their minds, remaining in blank oblivion, without power to
recognise themselves or their friends. The healing art had made great
progress in Greece in the course of the last generation; and in this,
as in all else, the Greeks remained the sole teachers of Europe for
ages after. But against such a malady as this, the most skilful
physicians could do nothing, and those who attempted to exercise their
skill caught the plague themselves, and for the most part perished.
Still less, as we may well suppose, was the benefit derived from
amulets, incantations, inquiries of oracles, or supplications at
temples; and at last, finding no help in god or man, the Athenians
gave up the struggle, and resigned themselves to despair.

It is recorded as a curious fact, showing the strange and outlandish
character of the pestilence, that the birds and animals which feed on
human flesh generally shunned the bodies of those who died of the
plague, though they might have eaten their fill, for hundreds were
left unburied. The very vultures fled from the infected city, and
hardly one was seen as long as the pestilence continued.

The fearful rapidity with which the infection spread caused a panic
throughout the city, and even the boldest were not proof against the
general terror. If any man felt himself sickening of the plague, he at
once gave up all hope, and made no effort to fight against the
disease. Few were found brave enough to undertake the duty of nursing
the sick, and those who did generally paid for their devotion with
their lives. In most cases the patient was left to languish alone, and
perished by neglect, while his nearest and dearest avoided his
presence, and had grown so callous that they had not a sigh or a tear
left for the death of husband, or child, or friend. The few who
recovered, now free from risk of mortal infection, did what they could
to help their suffering fellow-citizens.

The mischief was aggravated by the overcrowded state of the city,
especially among those who had come in from the country, and were
living in stifling huts through the intense heat of a southern summer.
Here the harvest of death fell thickest, and the corpses lay heaped
together, while dying wretches crawled about the public streets, and
encumbered the fountain-sides, to which they had dragged themselves in
their longing for drink. All sense of public decency, all regard for
laws, human or divine, was lost. The temples in which they had made
their dwellings were choked with dead, and the sacred duty of burial,
to which the conscience of antiquity attached so high an importance,
was performed in wild haste and disorder. Sometimes those who were
carrying out a corpse found a vacant pile prepared by the relatives of
another victim, flung their dead upon it, set fire to the pile, and
departed; and sometimes, when a body was already burning, others who
were seeking to dispose of a corpse forced their way to the fire, and
threw their burden upon it.

In the general relaxation of public morality all the dark passions of
human nature, which at ordinary times lurk in secret places, came
forth to the light of day, and raged without restraint. Some, who had
grown rich in a day by the death of wealthy relatives, resolved to
enjoy their possessions, and indulge every appetite, before they were
overtaken by the same fate. Others, who had hitherto led good lives,
seeing the base and the noble swept away indifferently by the same
ruthless power, began to doubt the justice of heaven itself, and
rushed into debauch, convinced that conscience and honour were but
empty names. For human laws they cared still less, for in the
universal panic there was none to enforce them, and before the voice
of public authority could be heard again, both judge and transgressor,
as they believed, would be involved in a common doom. All shame and
fear were accordingly thrown aside, and those whom the plague had not
yet touched seemed possessed by one sole desire--to drown thought and
care in an orgy of fierce excess, and then to die.


II

The second invasion of the Peloponnesians was prolonged for forty
days, and the whole Attic territory was laid waste. Pericles again
refused to venture a pitched battle against them, knowing well that
the Athenian army was no match for them in the open field. But a
powerful fleet was sent to cruise round Peloponnesus, which inflicted
much damage on the coast districts. It was a welcome relief to the
Athenians selected for this service to escape for a time from the
plague-stricken city; but unhappily they carried the infection with
them, and the crews were decimated by the same disease. Nor did the
evil stop here: for the same armament being afterwards despatched to
Potidaea, to reinforce the blockading army and fleet, caused a
virulent outbreak of the plague among the forces stationed there,
which up till then had been healthy. After some fruitless operations
against the town this second armament was withdrawn, and returned to
Athens with the loss of more than a thousand men.

After all these disasters the reaction against Pericles, which had
begun with the first invasion of Attica, reached a climax, and on all
sides he was loudly decried by the Athenians, as the author of all
their miseries. Envoys were sent with overtures of peace to Sparta,
and when these returned with no favourable answer, the storm of
popular fury grew more violent than ever. Pericles, who knew the
temper of his people, and had foreseen that some such outbreak would
occur, remained calm and unmoved. But wishing to allay the general
excitement, and bring back the citizens to a more reasonable view of
their prospects, he summoned an assembly, and addressed the multitude
in terms of grave and dignified rebuke. He reminded them that they
themselves had voted for war, and remonstrated against the unfairness
of making him responsible for their own decision. If war could have
been avoided without imperilling the very existence of their city,
then that decision was wrong; but if, as was the fact, peace could
only have been preserved by ruinous concessions, then his advice had
been good, and they had been right in following it. The welfare of the
individual citizen depended on the welfare of the community to which
he belonged; as long as that was secured, private losses could always
be made good, but public disaster meant private ruin. On this
principle they had acted two years before, when they determined to
reject the demands of Sparta. Why, then, were they now indulging in
weak regrets, and turning against him whom they had appointed as their
chosen guide and adviser? Was there anything in his character, any
fact in his whole life, which justified them in suspecting him of
unworthy motives? Was he the man to lead them astray, in order to save
some selfish end--he, the great Pericles, whose loyalty, eloquence,
clear-sightedness, and incorruptibility, had been proved in a public
career of more than thirty years? If any other course had been open to
them, he would have been to blame in counselling war; but the
alternative was between that and degradation. The immediate pressure
of private calamity was blinding them to the magnitude of the
interests at stake--Athens, with all her fond traditions, and all the
lustre of her name. That they were sure of victory he had already
declared to them on many infallible grounds. But seeing them so sunk
in despair, he would speak in a tone of loud assurance, and boldly
assert a fact which they seemed to have overlooked. They were lords of
the sea, absolute masters, that was to say, of half the world! Let
them keep a firm grasp on this empire, and they would soon recover
those pretty ornaments of empire--their gardens and their vineyards--
which they held so dear: but, that once relinquished, they would lose
all. Surely this knowledge should inspire them with a lofty contempt
of their foes, a contempt grounded, not on ignorance or shallow
enthusiasm, but on rational calculation. They could not now descend
from the eminence on which they stood. Athens, who had blazed so long
in unrivalled splendour before the eyes of the world, dared not suffer
her lustre to be abated: for her, obscurity meant extinction. Let them
keep this in mind, and not listen to counsels of seeming prudence and
moderation, which were suicidal in a ruling state. All their
calamities, except the plague, were the foreseen results of their own
decision. Now was the time to display their known courage and
patience. Let them think of the glory of Athens, and her imperial
fame.

This memorable speech, the last recorded utterance of Pericles, had
the desired effect. It was resolved to continue the war, and no
further embassies were sent to Sparta. But resentment still smouldered
in the hearts of the Athenians against their great statesman. How
fearful was the contrast between the high hopes with which they had
embarked in this struggle, and the scenes of horror and desolation
which lay around them! From the walls they could see their trampled
fields, their ravaged plantations, and the blackened ruins of their
homes. Within, the pestilence still raged undiminished, and the city
was filled with sounds and sights of woe. Under the pressure of these
calamities the ascendency of Pericles went through a brief period of
eclipse, and he was condemned to pay a fine. Soon, however, he
recovered all his influence, and remained at the head of affairs until
his death, which occurred in the autumn of the following year.

Pericles is the representative figure in the golden age of Athenian
greatness, the most perfect example of that equable and harmonious
development in every faculty of body and mind which was the aim of
Greek civic life at its best. As an orator, he was probably never
equalled, and the effect of his eloquence has found immortal
expression in the lines of his contemporary Eupolis. Persuasion, we
are told, sat enthroned on his lips; like a strong athlete, he
overtook and outran all other orators; his words struck home like the
lightning, while he held his audience enchained, as by a powerful
spell; and among all the masters of eloquence, he was the only one who
left his sting behind him. As a statesman, it was his object to admit
every freeborn Athenian to a share of public duties and privileges;
and for this purpose he introduced the system of payment, which
enabled the poorer citizens to perform their part in the service of
the state. His military talents, though never employed for conquest or
aggression, were of no mean order; and on two occasions of supreme
peril to Athens, the revolt of Euboea, and the revolt of Samos, it was
his energy and promptitude which saved his city from ruin.

But it is as the head of the great intellectual movement which
culminated in this epoch, as the friend of poets, philosophers, and
artists, that Pericles has won his most enduring fame. By his liberal
and enlightened policy the surplus of the Athenian revenues was
devoted to the creation of those wonders of architecture and
sculpture, whose fragments still serve as unapproachable models to the
mind of modern Europe. And under his rule Athens became the school of
Greece, the great centre for every form of intellectual activity, a
position which she maintained until the later period of the Roman
Empire.

If, however, we would understand the character of Pericles, and the
spirit of the age which he represents, we must never forget that this
aspect of Athenian greatness, to us by far the most important, was not
the aspect which awoke the highest enthusiasm in him and his
contemporaries. Those things which have made the name of Athens
immortal, her art and her literature, were matters of but secondary
importance to the Athenian of that age. He worshipped his city as a
beloved mistress, and, like a lover, he delighted to adorn her with
outward dignity and splendour. But to lavish all his thought and care
on these external embellishments would have been, in his estimation, a
senseless waste of his highest faculties, as if a lover should make
the robes and jewels of his mistress the objects of his highest
adoration. To make Athens the mightiest state in Greece, to build up
the fabric of her material greatness--these were the objects for which
he was ready to devote the best energies of heart and brain, and if
need were, to lay down his life. He might be skilled in every elegant
accomplishment, an acute reasoner, an orator, a musician, a poet; and
to some extent he was all of these. But before all else he was in the
highest sense a practical man, finding in strenuous action his chief
glory and pride. And such a man was the last to melt into ecstasies
over the high notes of a singer, or dream away his life in the
fairyland of poetry.

We have dwelt at some length on the work and character of Pericles, as
his death marks a turning point in Athenian history. From that day
onward the policy of Athens takes a downward direction, denoting a
corresponding decline in Athenian character and aspiration. Pericles
had been able, by his commanding talents and proved integrity, to
exercise a salutary check on the restless energies and soaring
ambition of his countrymen. He had been a true father and ruler of his
people, in evil times and in good, curbing them in the insolence of
prosperity, comforting and exalting them in the dark hour of disaster.
But the government now passed into the hands of weaker men, who, since
they were incapable of leading the people, were compelled to follow
it, and to maintain their position by pandering to the worst vices of
the Athenian character. Rash where they should have been cautious,
yielding where they should have been resolute, they squandered the
immense resources of Athens, and led her on, step by step, to
humiliation and defeat. The course of our narrative will show how
easily the Athenians might have emerged triumphant from the struggle
with their enemies, if they had followed the line of conduct marked
out by Pericles. They might, indeed, have avoided the occasion of
offence which led immediately to the war, and thus have escaped the
necessity of fighting altogether; and this, as we have seen, was the
one fatal mistake made by Pericles. But, once launched in the
conflict, they were sure of an easy victory, if they had only shown a
very moderate degree of prudence and self-restraint. And we need not
blame the great statesmen too harshly for not foreseeing the wild
excesses of folly and extravagance which we shall have to record in
the following pages.




INVESTMENT OF PLATAEA

In the third year of the war the usual invasion of Attica was omitted,
and the Peloponnesian army under Archidamus marched against Plataea.
Having pitched their camp before the walls they prepared to lay waste
the territory; but before the work of havoc began, the Plataeans sent
envoys to remonstrate. "Unrighteous are your deeds," said the
spokesman of the embassy, "ye men of Sparta, and unworthy of the men
whose sons ye are. After the victory of Plataea, which ended the
struggle against Persia, Pausanias, the chief captain of the
confederate Greeks, offered sacrifice and thanksgiving at Plataea to
Zeus the Liberator, and swore a solemn oath, both he, and all the
Greeks whom he led, to maintain the independence of our city against
all who should assail it. This they did as a recompense for our valour
and devotion in our country's service. But ye, in direct violation of
that oath, have made common cause with our worst enemies, the Thebans,
and have come hither to enslave us. In the name of the gods who
witnessed that covenant, in the name of every power worshipped alike
at Plataea and at Sparta, we adjure you not to commit this sacrilege,
but to leave us in peaceful possession of the privileges vouchsafed to
us on that memorable day."

Such were the words of the Plataeans, to which Archidamus replied as
follows: "Ye say well, men of Plataea, if ye act in the spirit of the
compact to which ye have appealed. The oath which Pausanias swore was
taken in defence of the common liberties of Greece. Against those
liberties a new enemy has arisen, Athens, who holds half our nation in
bondage, and threatens to lay her yoke upon us all. To put down that
tyranny has this great coalition been called together, and if ye are
true men, ye will enlist in the same cause, and take up arms for the
relief of your distressed countrymen. Or at least, if ye cannot do
this, then stand apart from this conflict, helping neither one side
nor the other; and with this we shall be satisfied."

Having heard the answer of Archidamus, the Plataean envoys went back,
and reported his words to their fellow-townsmen. But the Plataeans
replied that, without the consent of the Athenians, they dare not
accept his proposal, as their wives and children had been removed to
Athens. Moreover, they feared that if they remained neutral the
Thebans would seize the opportunity to make another attempt on their
town. "Well, then," answered Archidamus, "we make you this second
offer: Hand over your town and your dwellings to us, the Spartans;
keep a strict account of all your trees, [Footnote: Vines and olive-
trees] and of all else that can be numbered, and retire yourselves to
some safe retreat, as long as the war continues. When it is over, we
will restore all your property, and meanwhile keep the land in
cultivation, and pay you a fixed rent, such as may suffice you."

The offer was fair, and even generous; but the Plataeans were
powerless to act, without the consent of the Athenians, who held their
families as hostages. Accordingly they asked for a truce, to enable
them to lay the proposal before the authorities at Athens, and this
being granted, they sent envoys to Athens, who speedily returned with
this answer: "We have never left you at the mercy of your enemies in
the past, since ye became our allies, nor will we do so now, but will
help you to the best of our power; and we charge you by the oath which
your fathers swore not to depart from your allegiance to Athens."

It was a cruel alternative which was offered to the hapless Plataeans:
either they must leave their wives and children to the vengeance of
Athens, or face the whole power of the confederates, led by Sparta.
True to their character, they chose the nobler part, and determined to
stand by the Athenian alliance. Henceforth no one was allowed to leave
the town, and their final answer was delivered from the walls. They
were unable, they said, to accept the terms offered by Archidamus.

On hearing their decision, the Spartan king made a last solemn appeal
to the powers who presided over the territory of Plataea, a hallowed
precinct, now about to be given up to plunder and ravage: "Ye gods and
heroes, who keep the land of Plataea, bear witness that we had just
cause from the first for marching hither, since the Plataeans had
forsaken the alliance, and that if we do aught against them, we shall
still be justified. For we have made them the fairest offers, but they
would not be persuaded. Therefore let those with whom the guilt lies
be punished, and prosper ye the cause of righteous vengeance."

The siege of Plataea now began in earnest. First the town was
surrounded with a palisade, to prevent anyone from escaping, the
materials being taken from the plantations in the neighbourhood of the
town. Then they raised a mound against the wall, expecting that with
so large a force as theirs they would easily carry the place by storm.
Timber was brought from Cithaeron, and with this they set up two stout
buttresses of cross-beams, at right angles to the town-wall, to serve
as a support on either side of the mound. Within this framework they
piled up fascines, stones, earth, and whatever else was at hand. The
whole army was employed in this task, which was continued for seventy
days and nights without intermission, the men working in regular
spells.

Meanwhile the Plataeans had not been idle. First they built a wall of
bricks and timber opposite to the point where the mound was rising,
and resting on the ramparts, in order to raise the height of their
defences. The new wall was covered with hides, raw and dressed, to
protect the timber and the workmen from being injured by burning
arrows. And while this structure was in progress, they made a breach
in the old wall, and carted away the earth from the bottom of the
mound. To prevent this, the Peloponnesians filled up the space thus
caused with heavy masses of clay, rammed tightly into baskets of
osier, which made a solid structure, much harder to remove than the
loose earth. Then the Plataeans had recourse to another device:
marking carefully the position of the mound, they ran a mine from the
city under it, and as fast as the earth fell in, they carried it away.
This continued for a long time, for the Peloponnesians, who saw their
mound rising no higher, for all their labour, but rather growing less,
did not guess the cause, but went on heaping up materials, which were
swallowed up as fast as they were brought.

Still the Plataeans feared that in spite of these counterworks they
would at length be overpowered by numbers, unless they contrived some
better means of defence. So they left off building the wall of bricks
and timber, and beginning at either end of it, they built a crescent-
shaped wall, curving inwards towards the city. Thus the
Peloponnesians, if they succeeded in carrying the first wall, would
find themselves confronted by a second line of defence, and would have
all their work to do over again, besides being exposed to a cross-
fire.

While the Plataeans were thus vigorously defending themselves, and
before the mound was completed, the Peloponnesians brought siege-
engines to bear on the wall, one of which greatly alarmed the besieged
garrison, by severely shaking their wall of timber and bricks. But
this new mode of attack was frustrated, like the rest, by the
ingenuity of the Plataeans, who dropped nooses over the ends of the
battering-rams, and drew them up just before the moment of impact.
Moreover they suspended heavy beams of wood at intervals along the
wall, each beam hanging by long chains from two cranes which rested on
the wall and projected outwards from it; and whenever a ram was being
brought up, they drew up the beam at right angles to it, and then,
letting go the chains, dropped the ponderous timber, which came
crashing down on the ram, and broke off its head.

Thus baffled at every point, the Peloponnesians began to despair of
taking the town by assault, and thought that they would be compelled
to form a blockade. But before being driven to this costly and tedious
operation, they determined to try and set fire to the place, which
seemed possible, as it was but small in extent. So they waited till
the wind was in the right direction, and then brought vast quantities
of faggots, and threw them into the space between the mound and the
wall; and this being soon filled up, they piled up more faggots as far
as they could reach within the city itself, and then throwing in
lighted torches, with brimstone and pitch, they set fire to the whole
mass. Then arose a great sheet of flame, such as had never been raised
by human hands, though not, of course, to be compared to the vast
forest-fires, produced by natural means; yet it was sufficient to
cause a panic among the Plataeans, and bring their town to the verge
of destruction. The heat was so intense that a whole quarter of the
place was cleared of its defenders, and if a wind had arisen to drive
the flame inwards, nothing could have saved the whole town from
destruction. [Footnote: Thucydides seems to imply that there was a
wind, though a slight one.] But fortunately the breeze was but slight,
and it is said also that a heavy fall of rain came on, and quenched
the conflagration.

Having failed in their last attempt, the Peloponnesians sent away part
of their army, and employed those who remained in building a
blockading wall round Plataea. The work was completed towards the end
of September, and they then disbanded their army, leaving a force
sufficient to guard half the wall; for the Thebans, relentless in
their zeal against Plataea, took charge of the other half. The number
of the besieged was four hundred and eighty, of whom eighty were
Athenians, and a hundred and ten women to make bread for the garrison.




NAVAL VICTORIES OF PHORMIO

I


During the last half-century the art of naval warfare had made great
progress in Greece. The Greek war-galley, or trireme, a vessel
propelled by three banks of oars, had always been furnished with a
sharp-pointed prow, for the purpose of ramming an opponent's ship; but
many years elapsed before the Greeks attained genuine skill in the use
of this formidable weapon. According to the ordinary method of
fighting, after the first shock of collision the affair was decided by
the hoplites, or heavy-armed infantry, stationed on the decks of the
two contending ships; and in this manner was fought the engagement
between the Corcyraean and Corinthian. fleets which occurred in the
year before the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War. There the ship was
simply a vehicle, which served to bring the antagonists together, and
the rest was left to the prowess of the hoplites.

The Athenians were the first to abandon this crude and clumsy style of
fighting, and in the course of two generations their seamen had become
renowned throughout Greece for the unrivalled skill which they showed
in working and manoeuvring the trireme. A few hoplites were still
carried, to serve in cases of emergency; but by far the most important
part in the encounter was played by the trireme itself, with its long,
tapering, sharp-pointed prow. To use this deadly but delicate
instrument with effect required great coolness, dexterity, and
judgment, on the part of the steersman, and a crew under perfect
command. The tactics usually employed were as follows: watching his
opportunity, the captain gave the order "full speed ahead!" and
darting rapidly through the enemy's line, wheeled suddenly round, and
drove the beak of his galley with terrible force against the stern or
side of the vessel selected for attack. One blow from the long lance-
like point, propelled by the whole weight and impetus of the trireme,
was sufficient to sink or disable an enemy's ship, and the attacking
galley was then backed away from the wreck, and directed against
another victim.

The incessant practice of nearly half a century had enabled the
Athenians to attain consummate mastery in this new method of naval
warfare; and they were now to give signal proof of their immense
superiority over the other maritime powers of Greece.

In the same summer which witnessed the investment of Plataea, the
Spartans planned an expedition against Acarnania, the westernmost
province of Greece, which they wished to detach from the Athenian
alliance. A Spartan officer, named Cnemus, was sent off in advance,
with a thousand hoplites, to raise the wild mountain tribes, and led
an attack against Stratus, the capital of Acarnania; and in the
meantime orders were sent round to equip a numerous fleet, which was
to support the operations of Stratus by harassing the coast districts.

The attack on Stratus failed altogether, chiefly in consequence of the
impetuosity of the rude mountaineers serving under Cnemus, who
advanced unsupported against the town, and meeting with a severe
repulse embarrassed the movements of their Greek allies. About the
same time the Peloponnesian fleet, consisting of forty-seven ships,
was sailing down the Corinthian Gulf to co-operate with Cnemus. It was
known that Phormio, the Athenian admiral, was stationed at Naupactus
with a squadron of twenty vessels; but the Peloponnesian captains
never dreamed that he would venture to attack them with so small a
force, and they pursued their voyage along the southern shore of the
gulf, without making any preparations for a battle. Phormio, however,
had other intentions: keeping close to the opposite shore, he followed
their movements, and allowed them to pass through the narrow strait
which divides the inner from the outer gulf, wishing to avoid an
engagement until they reached the open water. The Peloponnesians
dropped anchor for the night at Patrae in Achaia, and Phormio took up
his station at Chalcis, a harbour-town of Aetolia, at the mouth of the
Evenus. Being now convinced that Phormio meditated an encounter, for
which they had little inclination, the Peloponnesian admirals made an
attempt [Footnote: I have adopted the reading of Bloomfield, approved
by Classen (4th Edition).] to steal across under cover of darkness.
But this manoeuvre was detected, and they found their way barred by
the Athenian squadron in the middle of the channel. Being thus driven
to bay the Peloponnesians drew up their ships in a circle, with their
prows turned outwards, like a flock of sheep assailed by a dog. Within
the circle were placed the smaller vessels accompanying the fleet, and
five of the swiftest galleys, which were intended to lend assistance
against any attack of the enemy.

To keep a large flotilla in such a position, even in a calm sea, where
no hostile movement was made against them, would have been a task to
try the skill of the most accomplished mariners. But the Peloponnesian
crews were untrained, the decks of their ships were crowded with
soldiers, and they were hampered by the crowd of smaller craft. Worst
of all, they were threatened in every direction by the agile Athenian
galleys, which, moving in single file, swept round and round them,
approaching closer and closer at every circuit, so that they were
penned together in an ever-narrowing space, and in danger of fouling
one another. To complete their confusion, the morning breeze began to
blow from the gulf; and Phormio, who had been waiting for this, now
gave the signal for attack. The Peloponnesians hardly attempted any
defence; for the unskilful crews of the galleys could not manage their
oars in the rising sea, and the steersmen had consequently no control
of their vessels. All their efforts were employed in keeping clear of
one another, warding off a collision with long poles, amid a hubbub of
curses and abuse. Into this huddled, swaying mass of war-galleys and
merchant-craft mingled together now dashed the Athenian triremes,
wrecking every vessel which they met. A wild panic ensued among the
Peloponnesian crews, and as fast as they could extricate themselves
they rowed off and sought shelter in the harbour of Patrae. From here
they afterwards sailed to Cyllene, the dockyard of Elis, where they
were joined by Cnemus with the troops from Acarnania. Twelve ships
fell into the hands of the Athenians, and taking these with them they
sailed first to Rhium, a level headland on the Locrian Coast, on which
stood a temple of Poseidon. Having left one of the captured ships as a
thank-offering to the god of the sea, they made their way back to the
original station at Naupactus.


II

The authorities at Sparta were highly indignant at the failure of
their expedition in Acarnania, and the defeat of the Peloponnesian
fleet by so inferior a force. For this was their first experience of a
sea-fight since the outbreak of the war, and they made no allowance
for the want of skill in their own crews, attributing the disaster to
mere cowardice. They did not reflect how vast was the difference
between raw sailors, lately transferred from the plough to the oar,
and the veteran seamen of Athens, trained under a system which had
been slowly perfected in the course of half a century. So they sent
three commissioners to Cnemus, with peremptory orders to prepare for
another sea-fight, and not allow himself to be shut up in harbour by
the feeble squadron of Phormio. One of these commissioners was
Brasidas, a brilliant young officer, who had gained distinction two
years before by saving the harbour-town of Methone, on the coast of
Messenia, from being captured by the Athenians. We shall hear much
more of him in the sequel.

On the arrival of Brasidas and his colleagues, the ships lying at
Cyllene were made ready for immediate service, and orders were sent
round to the allied cities for other ships. Phormio also sent an
urgent despatch to Athens announcing his victory, and asking for
reinforcements; and the Athenians sent twenty triremes to his aid.
These vessels, however, arrived too late, for the admiral, acting on
instructions from Athens, sailed first to Crete, where he was delayed
a long time by contrary winds. Phormio, with his twenty triremes, was
therefore compelled to engage the whole Peloponnesian fleet, numbering
seventy-seven ships, which had now sailed round from Cyllene, and
taken up its station just within the strait, close to the Achaean town
of Panormus. A strong force of Peloponnesian soldiers was encamped on
the shore, to co-operate with the fleet. Phormio anchored his ships
just outside the strait, being resolved, if it were in any way
possible, not to fight the Peloponnesians in the narrow waters. As the
Peloponnesians, on their side, were equally determined not to be lured
out into the open sea, the two fleets remained confronting each other
for a whole week, without attempting any aggressive movement. At last
the Peloponnesian leaders decided to give battle with Phormio at once,
fearing that if they delayed any longer he would be reinforced from
Athens.

It was the universal custom of Greek commanders to wind up the courage
of their men on the eve of a battle by a short and pithy address,
calculated to inspire them with confidence, by giving them a
reasonable hope of victory. Such a practice, strange as it may seem to
us, was natural among a people whose armies and fleets were recruited
from the general body of the citizens, accustomed to free speech in
their public assemblies. They were not men of war by profession,
trained in habits of blind obedience, but sensitive Greeks, who
carried into the camp the noble freedom of civic life, and were not
prepared to shed their blood without sufficient cause, and a fair
prospect of success.

Seldom was there greater need of this sort of military eloquence than
on the present occasion. On both sides there was much discouragement,
and a general reluctance to begin the fight. The Peloponnesians were
cowed by their recent defeat, and dreaded the naval skill of the
Athenians, which seemed to them almost supernatural; and Phormio's men
shrank from an encounter with such enormous odds. Accordingly the
Peloponnesian captains on one side, and Phormio on the other, did what
they could to argue their crews into a more hopeful frame of mind. The
Peloponnesian seamen who had taken part in the first battle were
reminded that they had been caught unprepared, and assured that this
time every precaution would be taken to prevent a second reverse. They
were flattered by the confident assertion that the superior skill of
the Athenians was far outweighed by their own superior courage.
"Look," said one of the admirals, speaking to his own division, "at
this powerful armament, outnumbering the enemy by four to one--look at
the army drawn up on the shore, ready to lend aid to any who are hard
pressed--and you will see that with such advantages defeat is
impossible. Do your duty like men, and expect to be rewarded or
punished according to your deserts." Similar addresses, combining
encouragement with threats, were heard in the other parts of the
fleet.

Among the Athenian sailors there had been much jesting about the land-
lubbers of Peloponnesus, and in the first flush of their victory they
had been ready to face any odds on the sea. But now, seeing themselves
confronted by such overwhelming numbers, they had lost heart for the
moment, and were seen standing about in little groups, shaking their
heads and whispering fearfully together. It was an anxious moment for
Phormio; he knew the immense importance of maintaining, at any cost,
the naval reputation of Athens, and if his men went into battle in
their present temper, they were certain to suffer a crushing defeat.
Determining, therefore, if possible, to allay the panic which was fast
spreading throughout the fleet, he summoned the crews into his
presence, and harangued them as follows:--

"Comrades, I have called you hither to assure you that you have no
cause for alarm. The numbers of the enemy, which seem to you so
formidable, should, if properly considered, be a ground of confidence;
for this unwieldy armament is a sign that they are thoroughly
terrified, and seek safety in a huge crowd of ships. The firmness and
discipline which they have acquired by long experience of land warfare
will avail them little on the sea For courage is largely a matter of
habit, and the bravest landsman is a mere coward when he is taken away
from his own element, and set down on the heaving deck of a war-galley
where he can hardly keep his feet. The disorganized multitude with
which we shall have to deal is a mere mob, held together by the
authority of Sparta, demoralized by their late defeat, and forced to
fight against their will. Face them boldly, and our very audacity in
assailing such numbers will sink them still deeper into helpless
terror, for they will think that we must be invincible, or we should
never run such risks. It shall be my business to bring on the
engagement in blue water, where we shall have them at our mercy. Now
every man to his station; be prompt, and be silent, and attend to the
word of command. Remember your old spirit, and reflect that the honour
of Athens is in your hands to-day."

The great object of the Peloponnesian leaders was to compel Phormio to
give battle in the confined space of the strait. With this intention
they determined to make a sudden movement towards the northern coast
of the gulf, threatening an attack on Naupactus. At daybreak they drew
up their ships in four lines, with the coast of Peloponnesus behind
them, and with twenty fast-sailing triremes stationed on the right
wing, to cut off Phormio's fleet, if, as they anticipated, he advanced
to the defence of Naupactus. Wheeling then to the right, the ships
sailed some distance, four abreast, towards the inner gulf; and when
they came opposite to Naupactus, they changed their course, and moved
in column, with the right wing leading towards the northern shore.

The manoeuvre, so far as concerned its immediate purpose, was
completely successful. Phormio, much against his will, was obliged to
leave his station outside the strait, and go to the aid of Naupactus,
which had been left undefended. Great was the delight of the
Peloponnesian captains when they saw the little Athenian squadron
creeping close, in single file, along the northern side of the gulf,
for they thought that not one of the twenty would escape them. At a
given signal, the whole fleet formed into line, resuming its original
order, four deep, and bore down upon the Athenians. Eleven of
Phormio's triremes succeeded in clearing the strait, and getting into
the open waters in the direction of Naupactus; but the remaining nine
were overtaken and driven aground, and their crews, except those who
escaped by swimming, were put to the sword. Some of these vessels were
towed off as prizes by the Peloponnesians, and one they captured with
all her crew. The rest were saved by the valour of the Messenian
soldiers, who had followed the movements of Phormio's vessels along
the shore, and now did good service by boarding the stranded triremes,
and hauling them to land, after a sharp tussle with the enemy.

Meanwhile the eleven ships which had eluded the attack were hotly
pursued by the twenty fast-sailing vessels on the Peloponnesian right
wing. All but one got through in safety, and took refuge in the
harbour of Naupactus, and drawing up in line, with their prows
outwards, prepared to defend themselves if the enemy advanced further
against them. But the rearmost vessel was hard pressed by a Leucadian
ship, and the rest of the pursuers followed at a considerable
distance, singing the paean [Footnote: A song of victory.] as they
rowed, and expecting an easy victory. Now, however, occurred one of
those sudden turns of fortune so frequent in the course of a sea-
fight. The Athenian trireme which had been left far behind in the
chase, made a sudden sweep round a merchant-vessel anchored at the
mouth of the harbour, struck her pursuer amidships, and sank her.

This splendid feat of seamanship filled the Peloponnesians, who were
advancing in disorder, with amazement and terror. On every trireme the
cry of "Hold her!" [Footnote: This was done by thrusting the oars, with
the blades held flat, deep into the water] was heard, and some of the
vessels, losing way suddenly, ran aground on the shallows. The others
hung back, waiting until the main body of the fleet should come to
their support. Seeing them drifting thus, stupefied and helpless, the
Athenians took heart again, and raising a shout rowed swiftly from
their station within the harbour, and charged down upon them. The
Peloponnesians, after a feeble attempt at resistance, took to flight,
heading for their original station on the opposite coast. Six of their
vessels were captured, and the Athenians, not content with this, fell
upon the main body of the fleet, and recovered their own ships which
had been taken in the strait. The victorious crews of Phormio then
returned to Naupactus, and set up a trophy at the place where they had
been moored when this splendid rally was made, opposite to the temple
of Apollo. The Peloponnesians also raised a trophy, to commemorate
their first success, and then, fearing the arrival of the fresh ships
from Athens, they sailed off to Lechaeum, the northern harbour of
Corinth.


III

In strange contrast with the disgraceful exhibition of cowardice and
incompetence which we have just witnessed, we have now to record a
daring attempt, undertaken shortly afterwards, to strike at the very
heart of the Athenian power. While the beaten crews of the
Peloponnesian fleet were waiting to be paid off at Lechaeum, they
suddenly received orders to take their oars and rowing-cushions, and
proceed to Nisaea, the port of Megara. The plan was to embark them on
forty vessels, which were lying in the dockyards, and make a night-
attack on Peiraeus. The suggestion came from the Megarians, but in
carrying it out the Peloponnesians were probably influenced by the
bold and enterprising spirit of Brasidas. And in fact, the meditated
descent on Peiraeus was neither so wild nor so rash as it may at first
sight appear. For the Athenians, never dreaming that they might be
taken by surprise, had not taken the precaution to close the entrance
of their harbour, or to station guard-ships for its defence.

Without delay, the officers in charge of the expedition mustered their
crews at Nisaea, and embarking by night, got their ships under way.
But at the last moment their hearts failed them, and instead of
sailing to Peiraeus, they landed on the island of Salamis, and after
attacking a sea-side fort, and capturing three triremes which were
riding at anchor near it, they spread themselves out, and began
ravaging and plundering the country.

Meanwhile fire-signals had been raised, conveying the alarm to
Peiraeus and Athens. A wild panic ensued, and a rumour ran through the
upper city that the enemy had sailed into Peiraeus, while in the
harbour-town it was generally supposed that Salamis was lost, and
Peiraeus on the point of being invaded. The Peloponnesians employed in
this adventure afterwards pretended that they had been hindered by
contrary winds from carrying out their original design. But this was a
mere excuse, and if they had chosen they might have sailed unopposed
to Peiraeus, and inflicted terrible injury on Athens. But it was now
too late, for the Athenians, as soon as the news was brought, had
marched down with their whole military force to Peiraeus, and occupied
every assailable point in the harbour, while at the same time every
ship in the docks was launched and manned, and sent off in headlong
haste to Salamis.

By this time it was broad daylight, and the Peloponnesians, being
warned that a rescue was on the way from Peiraeus, made off with their
booty, and getting, on board their ships, sailed back to Nisaea. They
had the more reason for hastening their departure, as the Megarian
ships which had carried them to Salamis, having lain a long while in
dry-dock, were leaky and unseaworthy; for the harbour of Megara had
for some time past been kept in close blockade by the Athenians.

This memorable incident, following close on the brilliant victories of
Phormio, taught the Athenians to take better precautions for the
future. Hitherto they would have scoffed at the suggestion that their
own arsenals and dockyards were exposed to attack. But now they
provided for the safety of Peiraeus by closing the harbours and
keeping a vigilant watch. And that terrible night left an impression
on their minds which was not soon forgotten.




THE REVOLT OF LESBOS

I


We have already traced the steps by which the various cities
composing the Confederacy of Delos gradually became subjects and
tributaries of Athens. After this great change was effected, the only
members of the original league who retained their independence were
the wealthy and powerful communities of Chios and Lesbos. These two
islands were allowed to retain undisturbed control of their own
affairs, with the sole obligation of sending a fixed quota of ships to
serve in the Athenian Navy. It does not appear that the performance of
this duty was felt as a grievance, and no act of oppression had been
committed by Athens, such as might have provoked her allies in Lesbos
or Chios to turn against her. In both islands the general body of the
citizens were on the whole friendly to the Athenians, who afforded
them an effectual means of protection against the tyranny of the
nobles, by summoning high-born offenders to be tried before the
Athenian tribunals. [Footnote: The evidence for this statement will be
found in Thucydides, viii. 48.] It was therefore not among the people
at large, but among the privileged few, that any movement of revolt
against Athens was to be expected.

Some years before the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War the Lesbian
malcontents had solicited the Spartans to help them in throwing off
the yoke of Athens. This application, which was probably made at the
time of the revolt of Samos, found no favour with Sparta, and nothing
further was attempted on that occasion. But in the fourth year of the
war alarming rumours were brought to Athens from Tenedos, a small
island included in the Athenian alliance, whose inhabitants were
jealous of the threatened ascendancy of Lesbos in the eastern
districts of the Aegaean. There was a design, it was said, among the
leading citizens of Mytilene, the principal city of Lesbos, to unite
the inhabitants of the island by force under their rule, and renounce
their allegiance to Athens. Help was expected from Sparta, and the
Boeotians, who were of the same race as the Lesbians, were also in the
plot. This statement was confirmed by envoys from Methymna, the second
city of Lesbos, which stood apart from the conspiracy, and by certain
citizens of Mytilene, who had turned informers from motives of private
revenge.

Among the Athenians at this time there was a general feeling of
despondency and exhaustion. The full hardship of the war pressed
heavily upon them, and their population was thinned by the ravages of
the plague. In such a mood the thought of undertaking a campaign
against a great island like Lesbos, then at the height of her power,
filled them with dismay. Was it possible that a favoured and
privileged ally had taken up arms against them in the hour of their
distress? It was a slander, they could not, they would not believe it.
At any rate, before proceeding to extremities, they would try the
effect of a friendly remonstrance. So they sent envoys with a pacific
message to the Mytilenaeans, hoping by fair words to deter them from
their purpose. In this, however, they were disappointed, and being at
last convinced that the Lesbians were on the brink of revolt, they
sent off forty triremes without delay, in order, if possible, to catch
them unawares. For they had been informed that the Mytilenaeans were
about to celebrate the festival of Apollo, in which the whole
population took part, outside the city walls; and if the triremes
arrived in time, there would be a fine opportunity for a surprise. At
the same time they took possession of ten Mytilenaean triremes, which
had been sent to serve in the Athenian fleet, and imprisoned the
crews.

But now was seen one of the weaknesses inherent in the nature of the
Athenian constitution. These measures could not be taken without
public debate in the popular assembly, and such a method of procedure
rendered secrecy impossible. The Mytilenaeans received timely warning
of their danger, and keeping close within their walls, repaired the
weak places in their defences, and set a careful watch. Shortly
afterwards the Athenian fleet hove in sight. As the Mytilenaeans
refused to obey the summons delivered to them in the name of the
imperial people,--that they should raze their walls, and surrender
their ships,--hostilities commenced. But on neither side was much
vigour displayed, for the Athenian officers thought themselves too
weak to undertake any decisive operations with their present force,
and the Mytilenaeans desired to obtain a respite, to enable them to
obtain aid from Sparta. Accordingly they asked for an armistice,
pretending that they wished to plead their cause by their own
representatives before the Athenian assembly; and their request being
granted, they sent envoys to Athens, who made a show of carrying on
negotiations. And in the meantime a trireme was despatched in all
haste to carry their petition to Sparta.

On the return of the Mytilenaean envoys from Athens, where of course
they had accomplished nothing, the siege of Mytilene began in earnest.
The city was situated on a promontory facing the Asiatic coast on the
south-eastern side of the island, and had two harbours, on its
northern and southern side. Both of these harbours were now held in
close blockade by the Athenians, who established two camps, one on
either side of the town, and patrolled the harbour-mouths with their
ships. But on the land side the investment was not yet completed, so
that supplies could still be brought into the town from the island.
Reinforcements, however, came pouring into the Athenian quarters in
answer to a summons sent to the cities of the Athenian alliance, who
were the more willing to lend help, as the Lesbians made no vigorous
effort in their own defence.

While the prospects of Athens were thus brightening, the Mytilenaean
envoys, after a stormy voyage, arrived at Sparta, and laid their
petition before the authorities. It happened that the Olympic festival
was close at hand, where representatives would be present from all the
cities of the Peloponnesian league; so the envoys received orders to
go to Olympia, and state their case in the presence of the Spartan
allies. They went, therefore, to Olympia, and when the festival was
over, the Mytilenaean orator addressed the confederates as follows:--

"Before we urge our claim for assistance we wish to combat a prejudice
which we know to be general in Greece against those who desert their
allies in time of war. For we wish not only to obtain your countenance
and support, but also to preserve your respect. To abandon an ally
without just cause in a time of peril is justly regarded as an act of
treason. But then the alliance must be a fair and equal relation
voluntarily assumed on both sides, based on mutual esteem and parity
of power. Can anyone assert that our connexion with Athens answers to
this description? Have we not seen how the confederacy of maritime
cities formed against Persia was gradually converted into an Athenian
empire? And though we and the Chians enjoyed nominal independence, we
had good reason to fear that this was only a temporary concession,
which would be withdrawn as soon as the Athenians felt themselves
strong enough to attack us. We were allowed to retain our liberty,
partly because they feared our navy, and partly because they wished to
make us accomplices in their own aggressions, and lend an appearance
of equity to the acts of violence in which we were compelled to take
part. Having swallowed up the smaller states, they were ready to
pounce upon us, and were only prevented by the outbreak of the present
war. Who, then, can blame us, if we seized the opportunity when they
were weakened to repudiate this false alliance, and anticipate the
blow which they were preparing for us? Athens, we repeat, has no just
title to our allegiance; the bond which held us together was fear on
our side and interest on theirs. We are natural enemies; and when your
foe is disabled, then is the time to strike.

"Having thus cleared ourselves from the imputation of disloyalty, we
will now make plain to you the advantages which you will gain by
espousing our cause. If you wish to inflict irreparable injury on
Athens, you must promote every hostile movement against her in those
regions which contain the sources of her power, that is to say, the
islands and coast-lands of the Aegaean. For if our revolt is
successful, others will follow our example, and the Athenians will be
stripped of their revenues, the mainstay of their empire. You can lend
us aid most effectually by summoning your allies for a second
[Footnote: Attica had already been invaded earlier in the summer.]
invasion of Attica, and thus preventing the Athenians from sending
reinforcements to Lesbos. You have a rare opportunity, for their city
is wasted by the plague, and their navies are dispersed on foreign
service. Remember, then, your proud position as champions of Greek
liberty, and put away the reproach which you have sometimes incurred
by leaving the revolted subjects of Athens to fight their battles
alone. [Footnote: As in the case of Samos.] For the cause of Lesbos is
the cause of all Greece."

It will be observed that the greater part of this remarkable speech
consists of an elaborate endeavour on the part of the Mytilenaeans to
justify themselves. The arguments employed were entirely sophistical,
for the Lesbians had no real grievance--and the statement that they
were in danger of losing their independence was a pure invention. But
they spoke to a partial audience, and the Spartans had already
prejudged the case in their favour. It was therefore decided to
receive them into the Peloponnesian alliance, and orders were issued
to the allies to assemble at the Isthmus with two-thirds of their
forces for an immediate invasion of Attica. The Spartans, acting with
unusual vigour, were the first to appear at the Isthmus, where they
made preparations for hauling ships overland from the northern harbour
of Corinth, intending to attack Athens by sea and land. But the rest
of the confederates came in but slowly, as they were engaged in
getting in their harvest, and had little inclination for a second
campaign.

The Spartans soon found out that they were mistaken in supposing the
energies of Athens to be exhausted. Without moving their fleet from
Lesbos, the Athenians manned a hundred triremes, raising the crews
from the whole body of the citizens, with the exception of the knights
and the wealthiest