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THE ACROPOLIS OF ATHENS.

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HISTORICAL TALES

The Romance of Reality

BY

CHARLES MORRIS

AUTHOR OF ‘‘HALF-HOURS WITH THE BEST AMERICAN
AUTHORS,” ‘‘ TALES FROM THE DRAMATISTS,” ‘* KING
ARTHUR AND THE KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND-TABLE,” ETC.

GREEK

PHILADELPHIA

J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
1896
CopyriGHT, 1896,
BY
J. B. Lippincott Company.

ELECTROTYPED AND PRINTED py J.B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY PHILADELPHIA, U.S.A.
CONTENTS.

How Troy WAS TAKEN .......2.006.
Tur VOYAGE OF THE ARGONAUTS .....
THESEUS AND ARIADNE. .....-. ee.
Tur SEVEN AGAINST THEBES .......

LYcURGUS AND THE SPARTAN Laws .
ARISTOMENES, THE HERO OF MESSENIA.. .

Soon, THE Law-GIvER or ATHENS... .
Tur ForRTUNE OF CRGSUS.........
Tue Surrors ofr AGARISTH ........
Tur TYRANTS OF CORINTH ..... 2 6
Tur RING oF POLYCRATES. .... 2. es
Tur ADVENTURES OF DEMOCEDES .....
DARIUS AND THE SCYTHIANS .......
Tur ATHENIANS AT MARATHON. .....

XERKES AND HIS ARMY. .......0.-
How tHe SPARTANS DIED AT THERMOPYLA.
THE WoopEN WALLS oF ATHENS .....
Puatrma’s Famous Day. .........
Four Famous Menor ATHENS ......
How ATHENS ROSE FROM ITS ASHES ....

THe PLAGUE AT ATHENS .. 2... 2.0
Tue Envoys oF Lirz— anD DmraTH. ....
Tur DEFENCE OF PLATHA 1... 4.2.2.6.

How tur Lona WALLS WENT DOWN. ...
SocRATES AND ALCIBIADES .......6.
Tue RETREAT OF THE TEN THOUSAND. . .
Tur Rescuzn or THEBES. . 1... eee ee
Tun HUMILIATION OF SPARTA... 2. ee
TIMOLHON, THE Favorire or Fortuny. . .

PAGE

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4 CONTENTS.

THE SACRED WAR As” cis iisles spac else
ALEXANDER THE GREAT AND DARIUS

THE WoRLD’Ss GREATEST ORATOR ...
Tur OLyMPICGAMES.......6.-.
PYRRHUS AND THE ROMANS ......
PHILOPG@MEN AND THE FALt or SPARTA
Tur DEATH-STRUGGLE OF GREECE...
ZENOBIA AND LONGINUS ..... :
Hyvpatia, THE MAIDEN PHILOSOPHER .

PAGE
288
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805
315
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8384
845
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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGE
THE ACROPOLIS OF ATHENS .... . . Frontispiece.
Partine or Hector AND ANDROMEDA ....... 15
GHD IBUS ANDEAN TIGO NA sven ere nese eed 2
RUINS OF THE PARTHENON. ............ 180
Tue Vicrors ar SALAMIS ............. 160
A Reunion av THE House or Aspasta ...... 190
PIR#Us, THE Port or ATHENS. ....... 2... 218
GatTE oF THE AGorRA oR O1L Market, ATHENS . . 255
Toe DwaTu or ALEXANDER THE GReaT..... . 800
Tur THEATRE OF Baccuus, ATHENS ....... . 822
REMAINS OF THT TEMPLE oF MinrRvA, Corinto. . 845
THKRUINS aOR PAL MYR Acd .sceuls methane Toth ODS
 
HOW TROY WAS TAKEN.

Tux far-famed Helen, wife of King Menelaus of
Sparta, was the most beautiful woman in the world.
And from her beauty and faithlessness came the
most celebrated of ancient wars, with death and
disaster to numbers of famous heroes and the final
ruin of the ancient city of Troy. The story of
these striking events has been told only in poetry.
We propose to tell it again in sober prose.

But warning must first be given that Helen and
the heroes of the Trojan war dwelt in the mist-land
of legend and tradition, that cloud-realm from which
history only slowly emerged. The facts with which
we are here concerned are those of the poct, not
those of the historian. It is far from sure that Helen
ever lived. It is far from sure that there ever was a
Trojan war. Many people doubt the whole story.
Yet the ancient Greeks accepted it as history, and
as we are telling their story, we may fairly include
it among the historical tales of Greece. The heroes
concerned are certainly fully alive in Homer’s great
poem, the “Iliad,” and we can do no better than
follow the story of this stirring poem, while adding
details from other sources.

Mythology tells us that, once upon a time, the

7
8 HISTORICAL TALES.

three goddesses, Venus, Juno, and Minerva, had a
contest as to which was the most beautiful, and left
the decision to Paris, then a shepherd on Mount
Ida, though really the son of King Priam of Troy.
The princely shepherd decided in favor of Venus,
who had promised him in reward the love of the
most beautiful of living women, the Spartan Helen,
daughter of the great deity Zeus (or Jupiter). Ac-
cordingly the handsome and favored youth set sail
for Sparta, bringing with him rich gifts for its beauti-
ful queen. Menelaus received his Trojan guest with
much hospitality, but, unluckily, was soon obliged to
make a journey to Crete, leaving Helen to entertain
the princely visitor, The result was as Venus had
foreseen. Love arose between the handsome youth
and the beautiful woman, and an elopement followed,
Paris stealing away with both the wife and the
money of his confiding host. He set sail, had a
prosperous voyage, and arrived safely at Troy with
his prize on the third day. This was a fortune very
different from that of Ulysses, who on his return
from Troy took ten years to accomplish a similar
voyage.

As might naturally be imagined, this elopement
excited indignation not only in the hearts of Mene-
laus and his brother Agamemnon, but among the
Greek chieftains generally, who sympathized with
the husband in his grief and shared his anger
against Troy. War was declared against that faith-
less city, and most of the chiefs pledged themselves
to take part in it, and to lend their aid until Helen
was recovered or restored. Had they known all
 

 

HOW TROY WAS TAKEN. 9

that was before them they might have hesitated,
since it took ten long years to equip the expedition,
for ten years more the war continued, and some of
the leaders spent ten years in their return. But in
those old days time does not seem to have counted
for much, and besides, many of the chieftains had
been suitors for the hand of Helen, and were doubt-
less moved by their old love in pledging themselves
to her recovery.

Some of them, however, were anything but eager
to take part. Achilles and Ulysses, the ¢wo most
important in the subsequent war, endeavored to
escape this necessity. Achilles was the son of the
sea-nymph Thetis, who had dipped him when an in-
fant in the river Styx, the waters of which magic
stream rendered him invulnerable to any weapon
except in one spot,—the heel by which his mother
had held him. But her love for her son made her
anxious to guard him against every danger, and
when the chieftains came to seek his aid in the ex-
pedition, she concealed him, dressed as a girl, among
the maidens of the court. But the crafty Ulysses,
who accompanied them, soon exposed this trick.
Disguised as a pedler, he spread his goods, a shield
and a spear among them, before the maidens. Then
an alarm of danger being sounded, the girls fled in
affright, but the disguised youth, with impulsive
valor, seized the weapons and prepared to defend
himself. His identity was thus revealed.

Ulysses himself, one of the wisest and shrewdest
of men, had also sought to escape the dangerous
expedition. To do so ho feigned madness, and when
10 HISTORICAL TALES.

the messenger chiefs came to seek him they found
him attempting to plough with an ox and a horse
yoked together, while he sowed the field with salt.
One of them, however, took Telemachus, the young
son of Ulysses, and laid him in the furrow before the
plough. Ulysses turned the plough aside, and thus
showed that there was more method than madness
in his mind.

And thus, in time, a great force of men and a
great fleet of ships were gathered, there being in all
eleven hundred and eighty-six ships and more than
one hundred thousand men. The kings and chief-
tains of Greece led their followers from all parts of
the land to Aulis, in Beotia, whence they were to
set sail for the opposite coast of Asia Minor, on
which stood the city of Troy. Agamemnon, who
brought one hundred ships, was chosen leader of
the army, which included all the heroes of the age,
among them the distinguished warriors Ajax and
Diomedes, the wise old Nestor, and many others of
valor and fame.

The fleet at length set sail; but Troy was not
easily reached. The leaders of the army did not
even know where Troy was, and landed in the wrong
locality, where they had a battle with the people.
Embarking again, they were driven by a storm back
to Greece. Adverse winds now kept them at Aulis
until Agamemnon appeased the hostile gods by sac-
rificing to them his daughter Iphigenia,—one of the
ways which those old heathens had of obtaining
fair weather. Then the winds changed, and the
fleet made its way to the island of Tenedos, in the
HOW TROY WAS TAKEN. 11

vicinity of Troy. From here Ulysses and Menelaus
were sent to that city as envoys to demand a return
of Helen and the stolen property.

Meanwhile the Trojans, well aware of what was
in store for them, had made abundant preparations,
and gathered an army of allies from various parts
of Thrace and Asia Minor. They received the two
Greek envoys hospitably, paid them every attention,
but sustained the villany of Paris, and refused to
deliver Helen and the treasure. When this word
was brought back to the fleet the chiefs decided on
immediate war, and sail was made for the neighbor-
- ing shores of the Trojan realm.

Of the long-drawn-out war that followed we know
little more than what Homer has told us, though
something may be learned from other ancient poems.
The first Greek to land fell by the hand of Hector,
the Trojan hero,—as the gods had foretold. But in
vain the Trojans sought to prevent the landing;
they were quickly put to rout, and Cycnus, one of
their greatest warriors and son of the god Neptune,
was slain by Achilles. He was invulnerable to iron,
but was choked to death by the hero and changed
intoaswan. The Trojans were driven within their
city walls, and the invulnerable Achilles, with what
seems a safe valor, stormed and sacked numerous
towns in the neighborhood, killed one of King Priam’s
sons, captured and sold as slaves several others,
drove off the oxen of the celebrated warrior Aineas,
and came near to killing that hero himself. He
also captured and kept as his own prize a beautiful
maiden named Briscis, and was even granted, through
12 HISTORICAL TALES.

the favor of the gods, an interview with the divine
Helen herself.

This is about all we know of the doings of the
first nine years of the war. What the Greeks were
at during that long time neither history nor legend
tells, The only other event of importance was the
death of Palamedes, one of the ablest Grecian chiefs.
It was he who had detected the feigned madness of
Ulysses, and tradition relates that he owed his death
to the revengeful anger of that cunning schemer, who
had not forgiven him for being made to take part in
this endless and useless war.

Thus nine years of warfare passed, and Troy re-
mained untaken and seemingly unshaken. How the
two hosts managed to live in the mean time the tellers
of the story do not say. Thucydides, the historian,
thinks it likely that the Greeks had to farm the
neighboring lands for food. How the Trojans and
their allies contrived to survive so long within their
walls we are left to surmise, unless they farmed
their streets. And thus we reach the opening of the
tenth year and of Homer’s “ Iliad.”

Homer's story is too long for us to tell in detail,
and too full of war and bloodshed for modern taste.
We can only give it in epitome.

Agamemnon, the leader of the Greeks, robs Achil-
les of his beautiful captive Briseis, and the invul-
nerable hero, furious at the insult, retires in sullen
rage to his ships, forbids his troops to take part in
the war, and sulks in anger while battle after battle
is fought. Deprived of his mighty aid, the Greeks
HOW TROY WAS TAKEN. 13

find the Trojans quite their match, and the fortunes
of the warring hosts vary day by day.

On a watch-tower in Troy sits Helen the beautiful,
gazing out on the field of conflict, and naming for
old Priam, who sits beside her, the Grecian leaders
as they appear at the head of their hosts on the
plain below. On this plain meet in fierce combat
Paris the abductor and Menelaus the indignant hus-
band. Vengeance lends double weight to the spear
of the latter, and Paris is so fiercely assailed that
Venus has to come to his aid to save him from
death. Meanwhile a Trojan archer wounds Mene-
laus with an arrow, and a general battle ensues.

The conflict is a fierce one, and many warriors on
both sides are slain. Diomedes, a bold Grecian chief-
tain, is the hero of the day. Trojans fall by scores
before his mighty spear, he rages in fury from side
to side of the field, and at length meets the great
/Eneas, whose thigh he breaks with a huge stone.
But Aineas is the son of the goddess Venus, who flies
to his aid and bears him from the field. The furious
Greek daringly pursues the flying divinity, and even
succeeds in wounding the goddess of love with his
impious spear. At this sad outcome Venus, to whom
physical pain is a new sensation, flies in dismay to
Olympus, the home of the deities, and hides her
weeping face in the lap of Father Jove, while her
lady enemies taunt her with biting sarcasms. The
whole scene is an amusing example of the childish
folly of mythology.

In the next scene a new hero appears upon the
field, Hector, the warlike son of Priam, and next to

2
14 \ITISTORICAL TALES.

Achilles the greatest warrior of the war. He arms
himself inside the walls, and takes an affectionate
leave of his wife Andromache and his infant son,
the child crying with terror at his glittering helmet
and nodding plume. This mild demeanor of the.
warrior changes to warlike ardor when he appears
upon the field. His coming turns the tide of battle.
The victorious Greeks are driven back before his
shining spear, many of them are slain, and. the
whole host is driven to its ships and almost forced
to take flight by sea from the victorious onset of
Hector and his triumphant followers. While the
Greeks cower in their ships the Trojans spend the
night in bivouac upon the field. Homer gives us a
picturesque description of this night-watch, which
Tennyson has thus charmingly rendered into English:

‘‘ As when in heaven the stars about the moon
Look beautiful, when all the winds are laid,
And every height comes out, and jutting peak
And valley, and the immeasurable heavens
Break open to their highest, and all the stars
Shine, and the shepherd gladdens in his heart;
So, many a fire between the ships and stream
Of Xanthus blazed before the towers of Troy,
A thousand on the plain; and close by each
Sat fifty in the blaze of burning fire;

And, champing golden grain, the horses stood
Hard by their chariots, waiting for the dawn.”

Affairs had grown perilous for the Greeks. Patro-
clus, the bosom friend of Achilles, begged him to come
to their aid. This the sulking hero would not do, but
he lent Patroclus his armor, and permitted him to lead
 

THE PARTING OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE.
HOW TROY WAS TAKEN. 15

his troops, the Myrmidons, to the field. Patroclus
was himself a gallant and famous warrior, and his
aid turned the next day’s battle against the Trojans,
who were driven back with great slaughter. But,
unfortunately for this hero of the fight, a greater than
he was in the field. Hector met him in the full tide
of his success, engaged him in battle, killed him, and
captured from his body the armor of Achilles.

The slaughter of his friend at length aroused
the sullen Achilles to action. Rage against the
Trojans succeeded his anger against Agamemnon.
His lost armor was replaced by new armor forged
for him by Vulcan, the celestial smith,—who fash-
ioned him the most wonderful of shields and most
formidable of spears. Thus armed, he mounted his
chariot and drove at the head of his Myrmidons to
the field, where he made such frightful slaughter of
the Trojans that the river Scamander was choked
with their corpses; and, indignant at being thus
treated, sought to drown the hero for his offence.
Finally he met Hector, engaged him in battle, and
killed him with a thrust of his mighty spear. Then,
fastening the corpse of the Trojan hero to his chariot,
he dragged it furiously over the blood-soaked plain
and around the city walls. Homer’s story ends with
the funeral obsequies of the slain Patroclus and the
burial by the Trojans of Hector’s recovered body.

Other writers tell us how the war went on. Hector
was replaced by Penthesileia, the beautiful and war-
like queen of the Amazons, who came to the aid of
the Trojans, and drove the Greeks from the field.
But, alas! she too was slain by the invincible
16 ‘HISTORICAL TALES.

Achilles, Removing her helmet, the victor was
deeply affected to find that it was a beautiful woman
he had slain.

The mighty Memnon, son of godlike parents, now
made his appearance in the Trojan ranks, at the
head of a band of black Ethiopians, with whom
he wrought havoc among the Greeks. At length
Achilles encountered this hero also, and a terrible
battle ensued, whose result was long in doubt. In
the end Achilles triumphed and Memnon fell. But
he died to become immortal, for his goddess mother
prayed for and obtained for him the gift of immortal
life.

Such triumphs were easy for Achilles, whose flesh
no weapon could pierce; but no one was invulnerable
to the poets, and his end came at last. He had
routed the Trojans and driven them within their
gates, when Paris, aided by Apollo, the divine
archer, shot an arrow at the hero which struck him
in his one pregnable spot, the heel. The fear of
Thetis was realized, her son died from the wound,
and a fierce battle took place for the possession of
his body. This Ajax and Ulysses succeeded in
carrying off to the Grecian camp, where it was
burned on a magnificent funeral pile. Achilles,
like his victim Memnon, was made immortal by
the favor of the gods. His armor was offered
as a prize to the most distinguished Grecian hero,
and was adjudged to Ulysses, whereupon Ajax,
his close contestant for the prize, slew himself in
despair.

We cannot follow all the incidents of the cam-
HOW TROY WAS TAKEN. 17

paign. It will suffice to say that Paris was himself
slain by an arrow, that Neoptolemus, the son of
Achilles, took his place in the field, and that the
Trojans suffered so severely at his hands that they
took shelter behind their walls, whence they never
again emerged to meet the Greeks in the field.

But Troy was safe from capture while the Pal-
ladium, a statue which Jupiter himself had given to
Dardanus, the ancestor of the Trojans, remained in
the citadel of that city. Ulysses overcame this diffi-
culty. He entered Troy in the disguise of a wounded
and ragged fugitive, and managed to steal the Pal-
ladium from the citadel. Then, as the walls of Troy
still defied their assailants, a further and extraordi-
nary stratagem was employed to gain access to the
city. It seems a ridiculous one to us, but was ac-
cepted as satisfactory by the writers of Greece.
This stratagem was the following:

A great hollow wooden horse, large enough to
contain one hundred armed men, was constructed,
and in its interior the leading Grecian heroes con-
cealed themselves. Then the army set fire to its
tents, took to its ships, and sailed away to the island
of Tenedos, as if it had abandoned the siege. Only
the great horse was left on the long-contested battle-
field.

The Trojans, filled with joy at the sight of their
departing foes, came streaming out into the plain,
women as well as warriors, and gazed with astonish-
ment at the strange monster which their enemies
had left. Many of them wanted to take it into the
city, and dedicate it to the gods as a mark of' grati-

1.—d 2*
18 HISTORICAL TALES.

tude for their deliverance. The more cautious ones
doubted if it was wise to accept an enemy’s gift.
Laocoon, the priest of Neptune, struck the side of
the horse with his spear. A hollow sound came from
its interior, but this did not suffice to warn the in-
discreet Trojans. And a terrible spectacle now filled
them with superstitious dread. Two great serpents
appeared far out at sea and came swimming inward
over the waves. Reaching the shore, they glided
over the land to where stood the unfortunate La-
ocoon, whose body they encircled with their folds.
His son, who came to his rescue, was caught in the
same dreadful coils, and the two perished miserably
before the eyes of their dismayed countrymen.

There was no longer any talk of rejecting the
fatal gift. The gods had given their decision. A
breach was made in the walls of Troy, and the
great horse was dragged with exultation within the
stronghold that for ten long years had defied its foe.

Riotous joy and festivity followed in Troy. It
extended into the night. While this went on Sinon,
a seeming renegade who had been left behind by
the Greeks, and who had helped to deceive the
Trojans by lying tales, lighted a fire-signal for the
fleet, and loosened the bolts of the wooden horse,
from whose hollow depths the hundred weary war-
riors hastened to descend.

And now the triumph of the Trojans was changed
to sudden woe and dire lamentation. Death fol-
lowed close upon their festivity. The hundred war-
riors attacked them at their banquets, the returned
fleet disgorged its thousands, who poured through
HOW TROY WAS TAKEN. 19

the open gates, and death held fearful carnival
within the captured city. Priam was slain at the
altar by Neoptolemus. All his sons fell in death.
The city was sacked and destroyed. Its people were
slain or taken captive. Few escaped, but among
these was Aineas, the traditional ancestor of Rome.
As regards Helen, the cause of the war, she was re-
covered by Menelaus, and gladly accompanied him
back to Sparta. There she lived for years after-
wards in dignity and happiness, and finally died to
become happily immortal in the Elysian fields.

But our story is not yet at an end. The Greeks
had still to return to their homes, from which they
had been ten years removed. And though Paris
had crossed the intervening seas in three days, it
took Ulysses ten years to return, while some of his
late companions failed to reach their homes at all.
Many, indeed, were the adventures which these
home-sailing heroes were destined to encounter.

Some of the Greek warriors reached home speedily
and were met with welcome, but others perished by
the way, while Agamemnon, their leader, returned
to find that his wife had been false to him, and per-
ished by her treacherous hand. Menelaus wandered
long through Egypt, Cyprus, and elsewhere before
he reached his native land. Nestor and several
others went to Italy, where they founded cities,
Diomedes also became a founder of cities, and various
others seem to have busied themselves in this same
useful occupation. Neoptolemus made his way to
Epirus, where he became king of the Molossians.
ineas, the Trojan hero, sought Carthage, whose
20 HISTORICAL TALES.

queen Dido died for love of him. Thence he sailed
to Italy, where he fought battles and won victories,
and finally founded the city of Rome. His story
is given by Virgil, in the poem of the “ Aneid.”
Much more might be told of the adventures of the
returning heroes, but the chief of them all is that
related of the much wandering Ulysses, as given by
Homer in his epic poem the “ Odyssey.”

The story of the “Odyssey” might serve us for a
tale in itself, but as it is in no sense historical we
give it here in epitome.

We are told that during the wanderings of Ulysses
his island kingdom of Ithaca had been invaded by
a throng of insolent suitors of his wife Penelope,
who occupied his castle and wasted his substance in
riotous living. His son Telemachus, indignant at
this, set sail in search of his father, whom he knew
to be somewhere upon the seas. Landing at Sparta,
he found Menelaus living with Helen in a macnifi-
cent castle, richly ornamented with gold, silver, and
bronze, and learned from him that his father was
then in the island of Ogygia, where he had been
long detained by the nymph Calypso.

The wanderer had experienced numerous adven-
tures. He had encountered the one-eyed giant Poly-
phemus, who feasted on the fattest of the Greeks,
while the others escaped by boring out his single
eye. He had passed the land of the Lotus-Eaters,
to whose magic some of the Grecks succumbed. In
the island of Circe some of his followers were turned
into swine. But the hero overcame this enchantress,
and while in her land visited the realm of the de-
HOW TROY WAS TAKEN. 21

parted and had interviews with the shades of the
dead. He afterwards passed in safety through the
frightful gulf of Scylla and Charybdis, and visited
the wind-god Afolus, who gave him a fair wind
home, and all the foul winds tied up inabag. But
the curious Greeks untied the bag, and the ship was
blown far from her course. His followers after-
wards killed the sacred oxen of the sun, for which
they were punished by being wrecked. All were
lost except Ulysses, who floated on a mast to the
island of Calypso. With this charming nymph he
dwelt for seven years.

Finally, at the command of the gods, Calypso set
her willing captive adrift on a raft of trees. This
raft was shattered in a storm, but Ulysses swam to
the island of Pheacia, where he was rescued by
Nausicaa, the king’s daughter, and brought to the
palace. Thence, in a Pheacian ship, he finally
reached Ithaca.

Here new adventures awaited him. He sought
his palace disguised as an old beggar, so that of
all there, only his old dog knew him. The fnithful
animal staggered to his feet, feebly expressed his
joy, and fell dead. Telemachus had now returned,
and led his disguised father into the palace, where
the suitors were at their revels. Penelope, instructed
what to do, now brought forth the bow of Ulysses,
and offered her hand to any one of the suitors who
could bend it. It was tried by them all, but tried
in vain. Then the seeming beggar took in his hand
the stout, ashen bow, bent it with ease, and with
wonderful skill sent an arrow hurtling through the
22 HISTORICAL TALES.

rings of twelve axes set up in line. This done, he
turned the terrible bow upon the suitors, sending its
death-dealing arrows whizzing through their midst.
Telemachus and Eumeus, his swine-keeper, aided
him in this work of death, and a frightful scene of
carnage ensued, from which not one of the suitors
escaped with his life.

In the end the hero, freed from his ragged attire,
made himself known to his faithful wife, defeated
the friends of the suitors, and recovered his kingdom
from his foes. And thus ends the final episode of
the famous tale of Troy.
THE VOYAGE OF THE ARGO-
NAUTS.

We: are forced to approach the historical period
of Greece through a cloud-land of legend, in which
stories of the gods are mingled with those of men,
and the most marvellous of incidents are introduced
as if they were every-day occurrences. The Argo-
nautic expedition belongs to this age of myth, the
vague vestibule of history. It embraces, as does the
tale of the wanderings of Ulysses, very ancient ideas
of geography, and many able men have treated it
as the record of an actual voyage, one of the earliest
ventures of the Greeks upon the unknown seas.
However this be, this much is certain, the story is
full of romantic and supernatural elements, and it
was largely through these that it became so cele-
brated in ancient times.

The story of the voyage of the ship Argo is a
tragedy. Pelias, king of Ioleus, had consulted an
oracle concerning the safety of his dominions, and
was warned to beware of the man with one sandal.
Soon afterwards Jason (a descendant of AMolus, the
wind god) appeared before him with one foot un-
sandalled. He had lost his sandal while crossing a
swollen stream. elias, anxious to rid himself of
this visitor, against whom the oracle had warned

; 23
24 HISTORICAL TALES.

him, gave to Jason the desperate task of bringing
back to Ioleus the Golden Fleece (the fleece of a
speaking ram which had borne Phryxus and Helle
through the air from Greece, and had reached Col-
chis in Asia Minor, where it was dedicated to Mars,
the god of war).

Jason, young and daring, accepted without hesita-
tion the perilous task, and induced a number of the
noblest youth of Greece to accompany him in the
enterprise. Among these adventurers were Hercules,
Theseus, Castor, Pollux, and many others of the
heroes of legend. The way to Colchis lay over the
sea, and a ship was built for the adventurers named
the Argo, in whose prow was inserted a piece of
timber cut from the celebrated speaking oak of
Dodono.

The voyage of the Argo was as full of strange
incidents as those which Ulysses encountered in his
journey home from Troy. Land was first reached
on the island of Lemnos. Here no men wore found.
It was an island of women only. All the men had
been put to death by the women in revenge for ill-
treatment, and they held the island as their own.
But these warlike matrons, who had perhaps grown
tired of seeing only each other’s faces, received the
Argonauts with much friendship, and made their
stay so agreeable that they remained there for
several months.

Leaving Lemnos, they sailed along the coast of
Thrace, and up the Hellespont (a strait which had
received its name from Helle, who, while riding on
the golden ram in the air above it, had fallen and
THE VOYAGE OF THE ARGONAUTS. 25

been drowned in its waters). Thence they sailed
along the Propontis and the coast of Mysia, not, as
we may be sure, without adventures. In the country
of the Bebrycians the giant king Amycus challenged
any of them to box with him. Pollux accepted the
challenge, and killed the giant with a blow. Next
they reached Bithynia, where dwelt the blind prophet
Phineus, to whom their coming proved a blessing.

Phineus had been blinded by Neptune, as a pun-
ishment for having shown Phryxus the way to
Colchis. He was also tormented by the harpies,
frightful winged monsters, who flew down from the
clouds whenever he attempted to eat, snatched the
food from his lips, and left on it such a vile odor
that no man could come near it. He, being a prophet,
knew that the Argonauts would free him from this
curse. There were with them Zetes and Calias,
winged sons of Boreas, the god of the north winds;
and when the harpies descended again to spoil the
prophet’s meal, these winged warriors not only
drove them away, but pursued them through the
air. They could not overtake them, but the harpies
were forbidden by Jupiter to molest Phineus any
longer.

The blind prophet, grateful for this deliverance,
told the voyagers how they might escape a dreadful
danger which lay in their onward way. This came
from the Symplegades, two rocks between which
their ships must pass, and which continually opened
and closed, with a violent collision, and so swiftly
that even a bird could scarce fly through the open-
ing in safety.. When the Argo reached the danger-

B 38
26 HISTORICAL TALES.

ous spot, at the suggestion of Phineus, a dove was
let loose. It flew with all speed through the open-
ing, but the rocks clashed together so quickly be-
hind it that it lost a few feathers of its tail. Now
was their opportunity. The rowers dashed their «
ready oars into the water, shot forward with rapid
speed, and passed safely through, only losing the
ornaments at the stern of their ship. Their escape,
however, they owed to the goddess Minerva, whose
strong hand held the rocks asunder during the brief
interval of their passage. It had been decreed by
the gods that if any ship escaped these dreadful
rocks they should forever cease to move. The
escape of the Argo fulfilled this decree, and the
Symplegades have ever since remained immovable.

Onward went the daring voyagers, passing in
their journey Mount Caucasus, on whose bare rock
Prometheus, for the crime of giving fire to mankind,
was chained, while an eagle devoured his liver.
The adventurers saw this dread eagle and heard the
groans of the sufferer himself. Helpless to release
him whom the gods had condemned, they rowed
rapidly away.

Finally Colchis was reached, a land then ruled
over by King etes, from whom the heroes de-
manded the golden fleece, stating that they had
been sent thither by the gods themselves. Actes
heard their request with anger, and told them that
if they wanted the fleece they could have it on one
condition only. He possessed two fierce and tame-
less bulls, with brazen feet and fire-breathing nostrils.
These had been the gift of the god Vulcan. Jason
THE VOYAGE OF THE ARGONAUTS. 27

was told that if he wished to prove his descent from
the gods and their sanction of his voyage, he must
harness these terrible animals, plough with them a
large field, and sow it with dragons’ teeth.

Perilous as this task seemed, each of the heroes
was eager to undertake it, but Jason, as the leader
of the expedition, took it upon himself. Fortune
favored him in the desperate undertaking. Medea,
the daughter of Metes, who knew all the arts of
magic, had seen the handsome youth and fallen in
love with him at sight. She now came to his aid
with all her magic. Gathering an herb which had
grown where the blood of Prometheus had fallen,
she prepared from it a magical ointment which,
when rubbed on Jason’s body, made him invulner-
able either to fire or weapons of war. Thus pre-
pared, he fearlessly approached the fire-breathing
bulls, yoked them unharmed, and ploughed the field,
in whose furrows he then sowed the dragons’ teeth.
Instantly from the latter sprang up a crop of armed
men, who turned their weapons against the hero.
But Jason, who had been further instructed by Me-
dea, flung a great stone in their midst, upon which
they began to fight each other, and he easily subdued
them all.

Jason had accomplished his task, but Aetes proved
unfaithful to his words. He not only withheld the
prize, but took steps to kill the Argonauts and burn
their vessel. They were invited to a banquet, and
armed men were prepared to murder them during
the night after the feast. Fortunately, sleep over-
came the treacherous king, and the adventurers,
28 HISTORICAL TALES.

warned of their danger, made ready to fly. But
not without the golden fleece. This was guarded
by a dragon, but Medea prepared a potion that
put this perilous sentinel to sleep, seized the fleece,
and accompanied Jason in his flight, taking with
her on the Argo Absyrtus, her youthful brother.

The Argonauts, seizing their oars, rowed with all
haste from the dreaded locality. Metes, on awaken-
ing, learned with fury of the loss of the ficece and
his children, hastily collected an armed force, and
pursued with such energy that the flying vessel was
soon nearly overtaken. The safety of the adven-
turers was again due to Medea, who secured it by a
terrible stratagem. This was, to kill her young
brother, cut his body to pieces, and fling the bleed-
ing fragments into the sea. Metes, on reaching the
scene of this tragedy, recognized these as the remains
of his murdered son, and sorrowfully stopped to col-
lect them for interment. While he was thus engaged
the Argonauts escaped.

But such a wicked deed was not suffered to go un-
punished. Jupiter beheld it with deep indignation,
and in requital condemned the Argonauts to a long
and perilous voyage, full of hardship and adventure.
They were forced to sail over all the watery world
of waters, so far as then known. Up the river
Phasis they rowed until it entered the ocean which
flows round the earth. This vast sea or stream was
then followed to the source of the Nile, down which
great river they made their way into the land of

Egypt.
Here, for some reason unknown, they did not fol-
SSS

aT TT

 

 

THE VOYAGE OF THE ARGONAUTS. 29

low the Nile to the Mediterranean, but were forced
to take the ship Argo on their shoulders and carry
it by a long overland journey to Lake Tritonis, in
Libya Here they were overcome by want and ex-
haustion, but Triton, the god of the region, proved
hospitable, and supplied them with the much-needed
food and rest. Thus refreshed, they launched their
ship once more on the Mediterranean and proceeded
hopefully on their homeward way.

Stopping at the island of Mea, its queen Circe—
she who had transformed the companions of Ulysses
into swine—purified Medea from the crime of mur-
der; and at Corcyra, which they next reached, the
marriage of Jason and Medea took place. The cav-
ern in that island where the wedding was solemnized
was still pointed out in historical times.

After leaving Corcyra a fierce storm threatened
the navigators with shipwreck, from which they
were miraculously saved by the celestial aid of the
god Apollo. An arrow shot from his golden bow
crossed the billows like a track of light, and where
it pierced the waves an island sprang up, on whose
shores the imperilled mariners found a port of refuge.
On this island, Anaphe by name, the grateful Argo-
nauts built an altar to Apollo and instituted sacrifices
in his honor.

Another adventure awaited them on the coast of
Crete. This island was protected by a brazen sen-
tinel, named Talos, wrought by Vulean, and pre-
sented by him to King Minos to protect his realm.
This living man of brass hurled great rocks at the
vessel, and destruction would have overwhelmed the

8%
30 HISTORICAL TALES.

voyagers but for Medea. Talos, like all the invul-
nerable men of legend, had his one weak point.
This her magic art enabled her to discover, and,
as Paris had wounded Achilles in the heel, Medea
killed this vigilant sentinel by striking him in his
vulnerable spot.

The Argonauts now landed and refreshed them-
selves, In the island of Mgina they had to fight to
procure water. Then they sailed along the coasts
of Eubcea and Locris, and finally entered the gulf
of Pagase and dropped anchor at Tolcus, their start-
ing-point,

As to what became of the ship Argo there are
two stories. One is that Jason consecrated his ves-
sel to Neptune on the isthmus of Corinth. Another
is that Minerva translated it to the stars, where it
became a constellation.

So ends the story of this earliest of recorded voy-
ages, whose possible substratum of fact is overlaid
deeply with fiction, and whose geography is similarly
a strange mixture of fact and fancy, Yet though
the voyage is at an end, our story is not. We have
said that it was a tragedy, and the denouement of
the tragedy remains to be given.

Pelias, who had sent Jason on this long voyage
to escape the fate decreed for him by the oracle,
took courage from his protracted absence, and put
to death his father and mother and his infant brother.
On learning of this murderous act Jason determined
onrevenge. But Pelias was too strong to be attacked
openly, so the hero employed a strange stratagem,
suggested by the cunning magician Medea. He and
THE VOYAGE OF THE ARGONAUTS. 31

his companions halted at some distance from Iolcus,
while Medea entered the town alone, pretending
that she was a fugitive from the ill-treatment of
Jason,

Here she was entertained by the daughters of
Pelias, over whom she gained great influence by
showing them certain magical wonders, In the end
she selected an old ram from the king’s flocks, cut
him up and boiled him in a caldron with herbs of
magic power. In the end the animal emerged from
the caldron as a young and vigorous lamb. The
enchantress now told her dupes that their old father
could in the same way be made young again. Fully
believing her, the daughters cut the old man to
pieces in the same manner, and threw his limbs into
the caldron, trusting to Medea to restore him to life
as she had the ram.

Leaving them for the assumed purposo of invok-
ing the moon, as a part of the ceremony, Medea
ascended to the roof of the palace. Here she
lighted a fire-signal to the waiting Argonauts, who
instantly burst into and took possession of the
town.

Having thus revenged himself, Jason yielded the
crown of Iolcus to the son of Pelias, and withdrew
with Medea to Corinth, where they resided together
for ten years. And here the final act in the tragedy
was played.

After these ten years of happy married life, dur-
ing which several children were born, Jason ceased
to love his wife, and fixed his affections on Glauce,
the daughter of King Creon of Corinth. The king
32 HISTORICAL TALES,

showed himself willing to give Jason his daughter
in marriage, upon which the faithless hero divorced
Medea, who was ordered to leave Corinth. He
should have known better with whom he had to
deal. The enchantress, indignant at such treatment,
determined on revenge, Pretending to be recon-
ciled to the coming marriage, she prepared a poi-
soned robe, which she sent as a wedding-present to
the hapless Glauce. No sooner had the luckless
bride put on this perilous gift than the robe burst
into flames, and she was consumed; while her father,
whe sought to tear from her the fatal garment, met
with the same fate.

Medea escaped by means of a chariot drawn by
winged serpents, sent her by her grandfather Helios
(the sun). As the story is told by Huripides, she
killed her children before taking to flight, leaving
their dead bodies to blast the sight of their horror-
stricken father, The legend, however, tells a dif.
ferent tale. It says that she left them for safety
before the altar in the temple of Juno; and that the
Corinthians, furious at the death of their king,
dragged the children from the altar and put them
to death. As for the unhappy Jason, the story goes
that he fell asleep under the ship Argo, which had
been hauled ashore according to the custom of the
ancients, and that a fragment of this ship fell upon
and killed him.

The flight of Medea took her to Athens, where
she found a protector and second husband in Agcus,
the ruler of that city, and father of Theseus, tho
great legendary hero of Athens,
THESEUS AND ARIADNE.

Minos, king of Crete in the age of legend, made
war against Athens in revenge for the death of his
son. This son, Androgeos by name, had shown
such strength and skill in the Panathenaic festival
that Aigeus, the Athenian king, sent him to fight
with the flame-spitting bull of Marathon, a mon-
strous creature that was ravaging the plains of
Attica. The bull killed the valiant youth, and
Minos, furious at the death of his gon, laid siege to
Athens.

As he proved unable to capture the city, he prayed
for aid to his father Zeus (for, like all the heroes of
legend, he was a son of the gods). Zeus sent pesti-
lence and famine on Athens, and so bitter grew the
lot of the Athenians that they applied to the oracles
of the gods for advice in their sore strait, and were
bidden to submit to any terms which Minos might
impose. The terms offered by the offended king
of Crete were severe ones. He demanded that the
Athenians should, at fixed periods, send to Crete
seven youths and seven maidens, as victims to the
insatiable appetite of the Minotaur.

This fabulous creature was one of those destructive
monsters of which many ravaged Greece in the age

¢ 83
34 HISTORICAL TALES.

of fable. It had the body of aman and the head
of a bull, and so great was the havoc it wrought
among the Cretans that Minos engaged the great
artist Dedalus to construct a den from which it
could not escape. Dedalus built for this purpose
the Labyrinth, a far-extending edifice, in which were
countless passages, so winding and intertwining that
no person confined in it could ever find his way out
again. It was like the catacombs of Rome, in which
one who is lost is said to wander helplessly till death
ends his sorrowful career. In this intricate puzzle
of a building the Minotaur was confined.

Every ninth year the fourteen unfortunate youths
and maidens had to be sent from Athens to be de-
voured by this insatiate beast. We are not told on
what food it was fed in the interval, or why Minos
did not end the trouble by allowing it to starve in
its inextricable den. As the story goes, the living
tribute was twice sent, and the third period came
duly round. The youths and maidens to be devoured
were selected by lot from the people of Athens, and
left their city amid tears and woe. But on this oc-
casion Theseus, the king’s son and the great hero of
Athens, volunteered to be one of the band, and
vowed either to slay the terrible beast or dic in the
attempt.

There seem to have been few great events in those
early days of Greece in which Theseus did not take
part. Among his feats was the carrying off of Helen,
the famous beauty, while still a girl. He then took
part in a journey to the under-world,—the realm
of ghosts,—during which Castor and Pollux, the
THESEUS AND ARIADNE. 35

brothers of Helen, rescued and brought her home.
He was also one of the heroes of the Argonautic
expedition and of an expedition against the Amazons,
or nation of women warriors; he fought with and
killed a series of famous robbers; and he rid the
world of a number of ravaging beasts,—the Caly-
donian boar, the Crommyonian sow, and the Mara-
thonian bull, the monster which had slain the son of
Minos. He was, in truth, the Hercules of ancient
Athens, and he now proposed to add to his exploits
a battle for life or death with the perilous Minotaur.

The hero knew that he had before him the most
desperate task of his life. Jiven should he slay the
monster, he would still be in the intricate depths of
the Labyrinth, from which escape was deemed impos-
sible, and in whose endless passages he and his com-
panions might wander until they died of weariness
and starvation. He prayed, therefore, to Neptune
for help, and received a message from the oracle at
Delphi to the effect that Aphrodite (or Venus) would
aid and rescue him.

The ship conveying the victims sailed sadly from
Athens, and at length reached Crete at the port of
Knossus, the residence of King Minos. Here the woful
hostages were led through the streets to the prison
in which they were to be confined till the next day,
when they were to be delivered to death. As they
passed along the people looked with sympathy upon
their fair young faces, and deeply lamented their
coming fate. And, as Venus willed, among the spec-
tators were Minos and his fair daughter Ariadne, who
stood at the palace door to see them pass.
36 HISTORICAL TALES.

The eyes of the young princess fell upon the face
of Theseus, the Athenian prince, and her heart
throbbed with a feeling she had never before known.
Never had she gazed upon a man who seemed to her
half so brave and handsome as this princely youth.
All that night thoughts of him drove slumber from
her eyes. In the early morning, moved by a new-
born love, she sought the prison, and, through her
privilege as the king’s daughter, was admitted to see
the prisoners. Venus was doing the work which
the oracle had promised.

Calling Theseus aside, the blushing maiden told
him of her sudden love, and that she ardently longed
to save him. If he would follow her directions he
would escape. She gave him a sword, which she
had taken from her father’s armory and concealed
beneath her cloak, that he might be armed against
the devouring beast. And she provided him besides
with a ball of thread, bidding him to fasten the end
of it to the entrance of the Labyrinth, and unwind
it as he went in, that it might serve him as a clue to
find his way out again.

As may well be believed, Theseus warmly thanked
his lovely visitor, told her that he was a king’s son,
and that he returned her love, and begged her, in
case he escaped, to return with him to Athens and
be his bride. Ariadne willingly consented, and left
the prison before the guards came to conduct the
victims to their fate. It was like the story of Jason
and Medea retold.

With hidden sword and clue Theseus followed the
guards, in the midst of his fellow-prisoners. They
THESEUS AND ARIADNE. 37

were led into the depths of the Labyrinth and there
left to their fate. But the guards had failed to ob-
serve that Theseus had fastened his thread at the en-
trance and was unwinding the ballas he went. And
now, in this dire den, for hours the hapless victims
awaited their destiny. Mid-day came, and with it a
distant roar from the monster reverberated fright-
fully through the long passages. Nearer came the
blood-thirsty brute, his bellowing growing louder as
he scented human beings. The trembling victims
waited with but a single hope, and that was in the
sword of their valiant prince. At length the creat-
ure appeared, in form a man of giant stature, but
with the horned head and huge mouth of a bull.

Battle at once began between the prince and the
brute. Itsoon ended. Springing agilely behind the
ravening monster, Theseus, with a swinging stroke
of his blade, cut off one of its Jegs at the knee. As
the man-brute fell prone, and lay bellowing with
pain, a thrust through the back reached its heart,
and all peril from the Minotaur was at an end.

This victory gained, the task of Theseus was easy.
The thread led back to the entrance. By aid of
this clue the door of escape was quickly gained.
Waiting until night, the hostages left the dreaded
Labyrinth under cover of the darkness. Ariadne
was in waiting, the ship was secretly gained, and the
rescued Athenians with their fair companion sailed
away, unknown to the king,

But Theseus proved false to the maiden to whom
he owed his life. Stopping at the island of Naxos,
which was sacred to Dionysus (or Bacchus), the god

4
38 HISTORICAL TALES.

of wine, he had a dream in which the god bade him
to desert Ariadne and sail away. This the faithless
swain did, leaving the weeping maiden deserted on
the island. Legend goes on to tell us that the de-
spair of the lamenting maiden ended in the sleep of
exhaustion, and that while sleeping Dionysus found
her, and made her his wife. As for the dream of
Theseus, it was one of those convenient excuses
which traitors to love never lack.

Meanwhile, Theseus and his companions sailed on
over the summer sea. Reaching the isle of Delos,
he offered a sacrifice to Apollo in gratitude for his
escape, and there he, and the merry youths and
maidens with him, danced a dance called the Geranus,
whose mazy twists and turns imitated those of the
Labyrinth.

But the faithless swain was not to escape punish-
ment for his base desertion of Ariadne. He had
arranged with his father Aigeus that if he escaped
the Minotaur he would hoist white sails in the ship
on his return. If he failed, the ship would still
wear the black canvas with which she had set out
on her errand of woe.

The aged king awaited the returning ship on a
high rock that overlooked the sea. At length it hove
in sight, the sails appeared, but—they were black.
With broken heart the father cast himself from
the rock into the sea,—which ever since has been
called, from his name, the Aigean Sea. Theseus,
absorbed perhaps in thoughts of the abandoned
Ariadne, perhaps of new adventures, had forgotten
to make the promised change, And thus was the
THESEUS AND ARIADNE. 39

deserted maiden avenged on the treacherous youth
who owed to her his life.

The ship—or what was believed to be the ship—
of Theseus and the hostages was carefully preserved
at Athens, down to the time of the Macedonian con-
quest, being constantly repaired with new timbers,
till little of the original ship remained. Every year
it was sent to Delos with envoys to sacrifice to
Apollo. Before the ship left port the priest of Apollo
decorated her stern with garlands, and during her
absence no public act of impurity was permitted to
take place in the city. Therefore no one could be
put to death, and Socrates, who was condemned at
this period of the year, was permitted to live for
thirty days until the return of the sacred ship.

There is another legend connected with this story
worth telling. Dedalus, the builder of the Laby-
rinth, at length fell under the displeasure of Minos,
and was confined within the windings of his own
edifice. He had no clue like Theseus, but he had
resources in his inventive skill. Making wings for
himself and his son Icarus, the two flew away from
the Labyrinth and their foe. The father safely
reached Sicily ; but the son, who refused to be gov-
erned by his father’s wise advice, flew so high in his
ambitious folly that the sun melted the wax of which
his wings were made, and he fell into the sea near
the island of Samos. This from him was named the
Icarian Sea.

There is a political as well as a legendary history
of Theseus,—perhaps one no more to be depended
upon than the other. It is said that when he be-
40 HISTORICAL TALES.

came king he made Athens supreme over Attica,
putting an end to the separate powers of the tribes
which had before prevailed. He is also said to
have abolished the monarchy, and replaced it by a
government of the people, whom he divided into the
three classes of nobles, husbandmen, and artisans.
He died at length in the island of Scyrus, where he
fell or was thrown from the cliffs. Ages later, after
the Persian war, the Delphic oracle bade the Athe-
nians to bring back the bones of Theseus from Scy-
rus, and bury them splendidly in Attic soil. Cimon,
the son of Miltiades, found—or pretended to find—
the hero’s tomb, and returned with the famous bones.
They were buried in the heart of Athens, and over
them was erected the monument called the Theseium,
which became afterwards a place of sanctuary for
slaves escaping from cruel treatment and for all
persons in peril. Theseus, who had been the cham-
pion of the oppressed during life, thus became their
refuge after death.
THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES.

Amona the legendary tales of Greece, none of
which are strictly, though several are perhaps
partly, historical, none—after that of Troy—was
more popular with the ancients than the story of
the two sieges of Thebes. This tale had probably
in it an historical element, though deeply overlaid
with myth, and it was the greatest enterprise of
Grecian war, after that of Troy, during what is
called the age of the Heroes. And in it is included
one of the most pathetic episodes in the story of
Greece, that of the sisterly affection and tragic fate
of Antigone, whose story gave rise to noble dramas
by the tragedians Aischylus and Sophocles, and is
still a favorite with lovers of pathetic lore.

Asa prelude to our story we must glance at the
mythical history of Gidipus, which, like that of his
noble daughter, has been celebrated in ancient drama.
Anoracle had declared that he should kill his father,
the king of Thebes. He was, in consequence, brought
up in ignorance of his parentage, yet this led to the
accomplishment of the oracle, for as a youth he,
during a roadside squabble, killed his father not
knowing him. For this crime, which had been one
of their own devising, the gods, with their usual

4* 41
42 HISTORICAL TALES.

inconsistency, punished the land of Thebes; afflicting
that hapless country with a terrible monster called
the Sphinx, which had the face of a woman, the
wings of a bird, and the body ofa lion. This
strangely made-up creature proposed a riddle to the
Thebans, whose solution they were forced to try and
give; and on every failure to give the correct answer
she seized and devoured the unhappy aspirant.
Cidipus arrived, in ignorance of the fact that he
was the son of the late king. He quickly solved
the riddle of the Sphinx, whereupon that monster
committed suicide, and he was made king. He
then married the queen,—not knowing that she was
his own mother.

This celebrated riddle of the Sphinx was not a
very difficult one. It was as follows: “A being
with four feet has two feet and three feet; but its
feet vary, and when it has most it is weakest.”

The answer, as given by Cidipus, was “ Man,” who

‘ First as a babe four-footed creeps on his way,

Then, when full age cometh on, and the burden of years

weighs full heavy,

Bending his shoulders and neck, as a third foot uscth his

staff.”?

When the truth became known—as truth was apt
to become known when too late in old stories—the
queen, Jocasta, mad with anguish, hanged herself,
and Cidipus, in wild despair, put out his eyes. The
gods who had led him blindly into crime, now handed
him over to punishment by the Furies,—the ancient
goddesses of vengeance, whose mission it was to
pursue the criminal with stinging whips.
 

CEDIPUS AND ANTIGONE.
   

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THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES. 43

The tragic events which followed arose from the
curse of the afflicted Gidipus. He had two sons,
Polynikes and Eteocles, who twice offended him
without intention, and whom he, frenzied by his
troubles, twice bitterly cursed, praying to the gods
that they might perish by each other’s hands.
Cidipus afterwards obtained the pardon of the gods
for his involuntary crime, and died in exile, leaving
Creon, the brother of Jocasta, on the throne. But
though he was dead, his curse kept alive, and brought
on new matter of dire moment.

It began its work in a quarrel between the two sons
as to who should succeed their uncle as king of Thebes.
Polynikes was in the wrong, and was forced to leave
Thebes, while Eteocles remained. The exiled prince
sought the court of Adrastus, king of Argos, who
gave him his daughter in marriage, and agreed to

- assist in restoring him to his native country.

Most of the Argive chiefs joined in the proposed
expedition. But the most distinguished of them
all, Amphiaratis, opposed it as unjust and against
the will of the gods. He concealed himself, lest he
should be forced into the enterprise. But the other
chiefs deemed his aid indispensable, and bribed his
wife, with a costly present, to reveal his hiding-
place. Amphiaraiis was thus forced to join the ex-
pedition, but his prophetic power taught him that it
would end in disaster to all and death to himself,
and as a measure of revenge he commanded his
son Alkmaon to kill the faithless woman who had
betrayed him, and after his death to organize a sec-
ond expedition against Thebes.
44 HISTORICAL TALES.

Seven chiefs led the army, one to assail each of
the seven celebrated gates of Thebes. Onward they
marched against that strong city, heedless of the
hostile portents which they met on their way. The
Thebans also sought the oracle of the gods, and
were told that they should be victorious, but only
on the dread condition that Creon’s son, Menceceus,
should sacrifice himself to Mars. The devoted
youth, on learning that the safety of his country
depended on his life, forthwith killed himself before
the city gates,—thus securing by innocent blood the
powerful aid of the god of war.

Long and strenuous was the contest that suc-
ceeded, each of the heroes fiercely attacking the
gate adjudged to him. But the gods were on the
side of the Thebans and every assault proved in vain.
Parthenopeeus, one of the seven, was killed by a stone,
and another, Capaneus, while furiously mounting the
walls from a scaling-ladder, was slain by a thunder-
bolt cast by Jupiter, and fell dead to the earth.

The assailants, terrified by this portent, drew back,
and were pursued by the Thebans, who issued from
their gates. But the battle that was about to take
place on the open plain was stopped by Eteocles, who
proposed to settle it by a single combat with his
brother Polynikes, the victory to be given to the
side whose champion succeeded in this mortal duel.
Polynikes, filled with hatred of his brother, eagerly
accepted this challenge. Adrastus, the leader of the
assailing army, assented, and the unholy combat
began.

Never was a more furious combat than that be-
THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES, 45

tween the hostile brothers. Hach was exasperated
to bitter hatred of the other, and they fought with
a violence and desperation that could end only in the
death of one of the combatants. As it proved, the
curse of Cidipus was in the keeping of the gods, and
both fell dead,—the fate for which their aged father
had prayed. But the duel had decided nothing, and
the two armies renewed the battle.

And now death and bloodshed ran riot; men fell
by hundreds; deeds of heroic valor were achieved
on either side; feats of individual daring were dis-
played like those which Homer sings in the story of
Troy. But the battle ended in the defeat of the
assailants. Of the seven leaders only two survived,
and one of these, Amphiaraiis, was about to suffer
the fate he had foretold, when Jupiter rescued him
from death by a miracle. The earth opened beneath
him, and he, with his chariot and horses, was re-
ceived unhurt into her bosom. Rendered immortal
by the king of the gods, he was afterwards wor-
shipped as a god himself.

Adrastus, the only remaining chief, was forced to
fly, and was preserved by the matchless speed of his
horse. He reached Argos in safety, but brought
with him nothing but “his garment of woe and his
black-maned steed.”

Thus ended, in defeat and disaster to the assailants,
the first of the celebrated sieges of Thebes. It was
followed by a tragic episode which remains to be
told, that of the sisterly fidelity of Antigone and
her sorrowful fate. Her story, which the dramatists
have mado immortal, is thus told in the legend.
46 HISTORICAL TALES.

After the repulse of his foes, King Creon caused
the body of Kteocles to be buried with the highest
honors; but that of Polynikes was cast outside the
gates as the corpse of a traitor, and death was
threatened to any one who should dare to give it
burial. This cruel edict, which no one else ventured
to ignore, was set aside by Antigone, the sister of
Polynikes. This brave maiden, with warm filial
affection, had accompanied her blind father during
his exile to Attica, and was now returned to Thebes
to perform another holy duty. Funeral rites were
held by the Greeks to be essential to the repose of
the dead, and Antigone, despite Creon’s edict, deter-
mined that her brother's body should not be left to the
dogs and vultures. Her sister, though in sympathy
with her purpose, proved too timid to help her. No
other assistance was to be had. But not deterred
by this, she determined to perform the act alone,
and to bury the body with her own hands.

In this act of holy devotion Antigone succeeded ;
Polynikes was buried. But the sentinels whom
Creon had posted detected her in the act, and she
was seized and dragged before the tribunal of the
tyrant. Here she defended her action with an ear-
nestness and dignity that should have gained her
release, but Creon was inflexible in his anger. She
had set at naught his edict, and should suffer the
penalty for her crime. He condemned her to be
buried alive.

Sophocles, the dramatist, puts noble words into
the mouth of Antigone. This is her protest against
the tyranny of the king:
THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES. AT

‘¢ No ordinance of man shall override
The settled laws of Nature and of God;
Not written these in pages of a book,
Nor were they framed to-day, nor yesterday ;
‘We know not whence they are; but this we know,
That they from all eternity have been,
And shall to all eternity endure.”’

And when asked by Creon why she had dared dis-
obey the laws, she nobly replied,—

‘ Not through fear
Of any man’s resolve was I prepared
Before the gods to bear the penalty
Of sinning against these. That I should die
I knew (how should I not?) though thy decree
Had never spoken. And before my time
If I shall die, I reckon this a gain ;
For whoso lives, as I, in many woes,
How can it be but he shall gain by death?”

At the king’s command the unhappy maiden was
taken from his presence and thrust into a sepulchre,
where she was condemned to perish in hunger and
loneliness. But Antigone was not without her ad-
vocate. She had a lover,—almost the only one in
Greek literature. Hemon, the son of Creon, to
whom her hand had been promised in marriage, and
who loved her dearly, appeared before his father
and earnestly interceded for her life. Not on the
plea of his love,—such a plea would have had no
weight with a Greek tribunal,—but on those of mercy
and justice. His plea was vain; Creon was obdu-
rate: the unhappy lover left his presence and sought
Antigone’s living tomb, where he slew himself at
48 HISTORICAL TALES.

the feet of his love, already dead. His mother, on
learning of his fatal act, also killed herself by her
own hand, and Creon was left alone to suffer the
consequences of his unnatural act.

The story goes on to relate that Adrastus, with
the disconsolate mothers of the fallen chieftains,
sought the hero Theseus at Athens, and begged his
aid in procuring the privilege of interment for the
slain warriors whose bodies lay on the plain of
Thebes. The Thebans persisting in their refusal
to permit burial, Theseus at length led an army
against them, defeated them in the field, and forced
them to consent that their fallen foes should be
interred, that last privilege of the dead which was
deemed so essential by all pious Greeks. The tomb
of the chieftains was shown near Hleusis within late
historical times.

But the Thebans were to suffer another reverse.
The sons of the slain chieftains raised an army,
which they placed under the leadership of Adrastus,
and demanded to be led against Thebes. Alkmzon,
the son of Amphiaraiis, who had been commanded to
revenge him, played the most prominent part in the
succeeding war. As this new expedition marched,
the gods, which had opposed the former with hostile
signs, now showed their approval with favorable
portents. Adherents joined them on their march.
At the river Glisas they were met by a Theban
army, and a battle was fought, which ended in a
complete victory over the Theban foe. A prophet
now declared to the Thebans that the gods were
against them, and advised them to surrender the
THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES. 49

city. This they did, flying themselves, with their
wives and children, to the country of the Illyrians,
and leaving their city empty to the triumphant foe.
The Epigoni, as the youthful victors were called,
marched in at the head of their forces, took posses-
sion, and placed Thersander, the son of Polynikes,
on the throne. And thusends the famous old legend
of the two sieges of Thebes.
LYCURGUS AND THE SPARTAN
LAWS.

Or the many nations between which the small
peninsula of Greece was divided, much the most in-
teresting were those whose chief cities were Athens
and Sparta. These are the states with whose doings
history is full, and without which the history of
ancient Greece would be little more interesting to
us than the history of ancient China and Japan.
No two cities could have been more opposite in
character and institutions than these, and they were
rivals of each other forthe dominant power through
centuries of Grecian history. In Athens freedom
of thought and freedom of action prevailed. Such
complete political equality of the citizens has scarcely
been known elsewhere upon the earth, and the intel-
lectual activity of these citizens stands unequalled.
In Sparta freedom of thought and action were both
suppressed to a degree rarely known, the most rigid
institutions existed, and the only activity was a war-
like one. All thought and all education had war for
their object, and the state and city became a com-
pact military machine. This condition was the re-
sult of a remarkable code of laws by which Sparta
was governed, the most peculiar and surprising code
which any nation has ever possessed. It is this

60
LYCURGUS AND THE SPARTAN LAWS. 51

code, and Lycurgus, to whom Sparta owed it, with
which we are now concerned.

First, who was Lycurgus and in what age did he
live? Neither of these questions can be closely an-
swered. Though his laws are historical, his biogra-
phy is legendary. He is believed to have lived
somewhere about 900 or 1000 Bc. that age of
legend and fable in which Homer lived, and what
we know about him is little more to be trusted than
what we know about the great poet. The Greeks
had stories of their celebrated men of this remote
age, but they were stories with which imagination
often had more to do than fact, and though we may
enjoy them, it is never quite safe to believe them.

As for the very uncertain personage named Ly-
curgus, we are told by Herodotus, the Greek his-
torian, that when he was born the Spartans were
the most lawless of the Greeks, Every man was a
law unto himself, and confusion, tumult, and injustice
everywhere prevailed. Lycurgus, a noble Spartan,
sad at heart for the misery of his country, applied
to the oracle at Delphi, and received instructions as
to how he should act to bring about a better state
of affairs.

Plutarch, who tells so many charming stories
about the ancient Greeks and Romans, gives us the
following account. According to him the brother
of Lycurgus was king of Sparta. When he died
Lycurgus was offered the throne, but he declined
the honor and made his infant nephew, Charilaus,
king. Then he left Sparta, and travelled through
Crete, Ionia, Egypt, and several more remote coun-
52 HISTORICAL TALES.

tries, everywhere studying the laws and customs
which he found prevailing. In Ionia he obtained a
copy of the poems of Homer, and is said by some
to have met and conversed with Homer himself.
If, as is supposed, the Greeks of that age had not
the art of writing, he must have carried this copy
in his memory.

On his return home from this long journey Ly-
curgus found his country in a worse state than be-
fore. Sparta, it may be well here to say, had always
two kings; but it found, as might have been ex-
pected, that two kings were worse than one, and
that this odd device in government never worked
well. At any rate, Lycurgus found that law had
nearly vanished, and that disorder had taken its
place. He now consulted the oracle at Delphi, and
was told that the gods would support him in what
he proposed to do.

Coming back to Sparta, he secretly sSenoreHe a
body-guard of thirty armed men from among the
noblest citizens, and then presented himself in the
Agora, or place of public assembly, announcing that
he had come to end the disorders of his native land.
King Charilaus at first heard of this with terror,
but on learning what his uncle intended, he offered
his support. Most of the leading men of Sparta
did the same. Lycurgus was to them a descendant
of the great hero Hercules, he was the most learned
and travelled of their people, and the reforms he
proposed were sadly needed in that unhappy land.

These reforms were of two kinds. He desired
to reform both the government and society. We
LYCURGUS AND THE SPARTAN LAWS, 53

shall deal first with the new government which he
instituted. The two kings were left unchanged. But
under them was formed a senate of twenty-eight mem-
bers, to whom the kings were joined, making thirty
in all. The people also were given their assemblies,
but they could not debate any subject, all the power
they had was to accept or reject what the senate had
decreed. At a later date five men, called ephors,
were selected from the people, into whose hands fell
nearly all the civil power, so that the kings had
little more to do than to command the army and
lead it to war. The kings, however, were at the
head of the religious establishment of the country,
and were respected by the people as descendants of
the gods.

The government of Sparta thus became an aris-
tocracy or oligarchy. The ephors came from the
people, and were appointed in their interest, but they
came to rule the state so completely that neither the
kings, the senate, nor the assembly had much voice
in the government. Such was the outgrowth of the
governmental institutions of Lycurgus.

It is the civil laws made by Lycurgus, however,
which are of most interest, and in which Sparta
differed from all other states. The people of Laconia,
the country of which Sparta was the capital, were
composed of two classes. That country had origi-
nally been conquered by the Spartans, and the
ancient inhabitants, who were known as Helots,
were held as slaves by their Spartan conquerors.
They tilled the ground to raise food for the citizens,
who were all soldiers, and whose whole life and

5*
54 HISTORICAL TALES.

thought were given to keeping the Helots in slavery
and to warlike activity. That they might make the
better soldiers, Lycurgus formed laws to do away
with all luxury and inequality of conditions, and to
train up the young under a rigid system of discipline
to the use of weapons and the arts of war. The
Helots, also, were often employed as light-armed
soldiers, and there was always danger that they
might revolt against their oppressors, a fact which
made constant discipline and vigilance necessary to
the Spartan citizens.

Lycurgus found great inequality in the state. A
few owned all the land, and the remainder were
poor. The rich lived in luxury; the poor were
reduced to misery and want. He divided the whole
territory of Sparta into nine thousand equal lots,
one of which was given to each citizen. The terri-
tory of the remainder of Laconia was divided into’
thirty thousand equal lots, one of which was given
to each Pericecus. (The Periceci were the freemen
of the country outside of the Spartan city and dis-
trict, and did not possess the full rights of citizen-
ship.)

This measure served to equalize wealth. But
further to prevent luxury, Lycurgus banished all
gold and silver from the country, and forced the
people to use iron money,—each piece so heavy that
none would care to carry it. He also forbade the
citizens to have anything to do with commerce or
industry. They were to be soldiers only, and the
Helots were to supply them with food. As for com-
merce, since no other state would accept their iron
LYCURGUS AND THE SPARTAN LAWS. 55

money, they had to depend on themselves for every-
thing they needed. The industries of Laconia were
kept strictly at home.

To these provisions Lycurgus added another of
remarkable character. No one was allowed to take
his meals at home. Public tables were provided, at
which all must eat, every citizen being forced to be-
long to some special public mess. Each had to sup-
ply his quota of food, such as barley, wine, cheese,
and figs from his land, game obtained by hunting, or
the meat of the animals killed for sacrifices. At
these tables all shared alike. The kings and the
humblest citizens were on an equality. No distinc-
tion was permitted except to those who had rendered
some signal service to the state.

This public mess was not accepted without pro-
test. Those who were used to luxurious living were
not ready to be brought down to such simple fare,
and a number of these attacked Lycurgus in the
market-place, and would have stoned him to death
had he not run briskly for his life. As it was, one
of his pursuers knocked out his eye. But, such was
his content at his success, that he dedicated his last
eye to the gods, building a temple to the goddess
Athene of the Eye. At these public tables black
broth was the most valued dish, the elder men eat-
ing it in preference, and leaving the meat to their
younger messmates.

The houses of the Spartans were as plain as they
could well be made, and as simple in furniture as
possible, while no lights were permitted at bedtime,
it being designed that every one should become ac-
56 HISTORICAL TALES.

customed to walking boldly in the dark. This, how-
ever, was but a minor portion of the Spartan dis-
cipline. Throughout life, from boyhood to old age,
every one was subjected to the most rigorous train-
ing. From seven years of age the drill continued,
and every one was constantly being trained or seeing
others under training. The day was passed in pub-
lic exercises and public meals, the nights in public
barracks. Married Spartans rarely saw their wives
—during the first years of marriage—and had very
little to do with their children; their whole lives
were given to the state, and the slavery of the
Helots to them was not more complete than their
slavery to military discipline.

They were not only drilled in the complicated
military movements which taught a body of Spartan
soldiers to act as one man, but also had incessant
gymnastic training, so as to make them active,
strong, and enduring. They were taught to bear
severe pain unmoved, to endure heat and cold,
hunger and thirst, to walk barefoot on rugged
ground, to wear the same garment summer and
winter, to suppress all display of feeling, and in
public to remain silent and motionless until action
was called for.

Two companies were often matched against each
other, and these contests were carried on with fury,
fists and fect taking the place of arms. — Hunting
in the woods and mountains was encouraged, that
they might learn to bear fatigue. The boys were
kept half fed, that they might be forced to provide
for themselves by hunting or stealing. The latter
LYCURGUS AND THE SPARTAN LAWS. 57

was designed to make them cunning and skilful,
and if detected in the act they were severely pun-
ished. The story is told that one boy who had
stolen a fox and hidden it under his garment, per-
mitted the animal to tear him open with claws and
teeth, and died rather than reveal his theft,

One might say that he would rather have been
born a girl than a boy in Sparta; but the girls were
trained almost as severely as the boys. They were
forced to contend with each other in running, wrest-
ling, and boxing, and to go through other gymnastic
exercises calculated to make them strong and healthy.
They marched in the religious processions, sung and
danced at festivals, and were present at the exercises
of the youths. Thus boys and girls were continually
mingled, and the praise or reproach of the latter did
much to stimulate their brothers and friends to the
utmost exertion.

As a result of all this the Spartans became strong,
vigorous, and handsome in form and face. The
beauty of their women was everywhere celebrated.
The men became unequalled for soldierly qualities,
able to bear the greatest fatigue and privation, and
to march great distances in a brief time, while on
the field of battle they were taught to conquer or to
die, a display of cowardice or flight from the field
being a lifelong disgrace. |

Such were the main features of the most singular
set of laws any nation ever had, the best fitted to
make a nation of soldiers, and also to prevent in-
tellectual progress in any other direction than the
single one of war-making. Even eloquence in speech
58 HISTORICAL TALES,

was discouraged, and a brief or laconic manner sedu-
lously cultivated. But while all this had its advan-
tages, it had its defects. The number of citizens
decreased instead of increasing. At the time of the
Persian war there were eight thousand of them.
Ata late date there were but seven hundred, of whom
one hundred possessed most of the land. Whether
Lycurgus really divided the land equally or not is
doubtful. At any rate, in time the land fell into a
few hands, the poor increased in number, and the
people steadily died out; while the public mess, so
far as the rich were concerned, became a mere form.

But we need not deal with these late events, and
must go back to the story told of Lycurgus. It is
‘said that when he had completed his code of laws,
he called together an assembly of the people, told
them that he was going on a journey, and asked
them to swear that they would obey his laws till
he returned. This they agreed to do, the kings, the |
senate, and the people all taking the oath.

Then the law-giver went to Delphi, where he
offered a sacrifice to Apollo, and asked the oracle
if the laws he had made were good. The oracle
answered that they were excellent, and would brin g
the people the greatest fame. This answer he had
put into writing and sent to Sparta, for he had re-
solved to make his oath binding for all time by never
returning. So the old man starved himself to death.

The Spartans kept their oath. For five hundred
years their city continued one of the chief cities of
Greece, and their army the most warlike and dreaded
of the armies of the earth. As for Lycurgus, his

 
LYCURGUS AND THE SPARTAN LAWS. 59

countrymen worshipped him as a god, and imputed
to him all that was noble in their institutions and
excellent in their laws. But time brings its in-
evitable changes, and these famous institutions in
time decayed, while the people perished from over-
strict discipline or other causes till but a small troop
of Spartans remained, too weak in numbers fairly
to control the Helots of their fields.

In truth, the laws of Lycurgus were unnatural,
and in the end could but fail. They were framed to
make one-sided men, and only whole men can long
succeed. Human nature will have its way, and
luxury and corruption crept into Sparta despite
these laws. Nor did the Spartans prove braver or
more successful in war than the Athenians, whose
whole nature was developed, and who were alike
great in literature, art, and war.
ARISTOMENES, THE HERO OF
MESSENTA,

We have told by what means the Spartans grew
to be famous warriors. We have now to tell one
of the ancient stories of how they used their war-
like prowess to extend their dominions. Laconia,
their country, was situated in the southeast section
of the Peloponnesus, that southern peninsula which
is attached to the remainder of Greece by the narrow
neck of land known as the Isthmus of Corinth. Their
capital city was anciently called Lacedemon; it was
later known as Sparta. In consequence they are
called in history both Spartans and Lacedemonians.

In the early history of the Spartans they did not
trouble themselves about Northern Greece. They
had enough to occupy them in the Peloponnesus.
As the Romans, in after-time, spent their early
centuries in conquering the small nations immedi-
ately around them, so did the Spartans. And the
first wars of this nation of soldiers seem to have
been with Messenia, a small country west of Laconia,
and extending like it southward into the blue waters
of the Mediterranean Sea.

There were two wars with the Messenians, both
full of stories of daring and disaster, but it is the
second of these with which we are specially con-

60
ARISTOMENES, THE HERO OF MESSENIA., 61

cerned, that in which the hero Aristomenes won his
fame. We shall not ask our readers to believe all
that is told about this ancient champion. Much of
it is very doubtful. But the war in which he took
part was historical, and the conquest of Messenia
was the first great event in Spartan history.

Now for the story itself. In the first Messenian
war, which was fought more than seven hundred
years B.c., the leader of the Messenians was named
Aristodemus. A quarrel had arisen between the
two nations during some sacrifices on their border
lands. The Spartans had laid a snare for their
neighbors by dressing some youths as maidens and
arming them with daggers. They attacked the
Messenians, but were defeated, and the Spartan
king was slain.

In the war that ensued the Messenians in time
found themselves in severe straits, and followed the
plan that seems to have been common throughout
Grecian history. They sent to Delphi to ask aid
and advice from the oracle of Apollo. And the
oracle gave them one of its often cruel and always
uncertain answers; saying that if they would be
successful a virgin of the house of Mpytus must
die for her country. To fulfil this cruel behest
Aristodemus, who was of that ancient house, killed
his daughter with his own hand,—much as Aga-
memnon had sacrificed his daughter before sailing
for Troy.

Aristodemus afterwards became king, and had a
stirring and tragic history, which was full of por-
tents and prodigies. Thus an old blind prophet sud-

6
62 ‘ HISTORICAL TALES,

denly recovered his sight,—which the Messenians
looked upon to mean something, though it is not
clear what. <A statue of Artemis (or Diana) let fall
its brazen shield; which meant something more,—
probably that the fastenings had given way; but
the ancients looked on it as a portent. Then the
ghost of his murdered daughter appeared to Aris-
todemus, pointed to her wounded side, stripped off
his armor, placed on his head a crown of gold and
on his body a white robe,—a sign of death. So, as
it seemed evident that he had mistaken the oracle,
and killed his daughter without saving his country,
he did the only thing that remained for him: he
went to her grave and killed himself. And with
this tragedy ends all we need to tell about the first
champion of Messenia.

The war ended in the conquest of Messenia by the
Spartans. The conquered people were very harshly
treated by the conquerors, being forced to pay as
tribute half the produce of their fields, and to humble
themselves before their haughty masters. As a re-
sult, about fifty years afterwards, they broke out
into rebellion, and a second Messenian war began.

This war lasted for many years, the Messenians
being led by a valiant hero named Aristomenes, who
performed startling exploits and made marvellous
escapes. Three great battles took place, with vari-
ous results, and three times Aristomenes made a re-
markable sacrifice to the king of the gods. This
was called the Hekatomphonia, and could only be
offered by one who had slain, with his own hands,
one hundred enemies in battle,
ARISTOMENES, THE HERO OF MESSENIA. 63

But great battles were not all. There were years
of guerilla warfare. At the head of a band of brave
followers Aristomenes made his way more than once
to the very heart of Laconia, surprised two of its
cities, and on one occasion ventured into Sparta
itself by night. Here he boldly entered the temple
of Athene of the Brazen House and hung up his
shield there as a mark of defiance to his enemies,
placing on it an inscription which said that Aris-
tomenes presented it as an offering from Spartan
spoil.

The Messenian maidens crowned their hero with
garlands, and danced around him, singing a war
strain in honor of his victories over his foes. Yet
he found the Spartans vigorous and persistent ene-
mies, and in spite of all his victories was forced at
length to take refuge in the mountain fastnesses,
where he held out against his foes for eleven years.

We do not know all the adventures of this famous
champion, but are told that he was taken prisoner
three times by his enemies. Twice he made marvel-
lous escapes while they were conveying him to
Sparta. On the third occasion he was less fortu-
nate. His foes bore him in triumph to their capital
city, and here he was condemned to be cast from
Mount Taygetus into the Keadas, a deep rock cavity
into which they flung their criminals.

Fifty Messenian prisoners suffered the same fate
and were all killed; but the gods, so we are told,
came to their leader’s aid. The legend says that an
eagle took Aristomenes on its outspread wings, and
landed him safely in the bottom of the pit. More
64 HISTORICAL TALES.

likely the bodies of the former victims broke his
fall. Seeing no possible way out from the deep
cavity, he wrapped himself in his cloak, and re-
signed himself to die. But, while thus lying, he
saw a fox prowling among the dead bodies, and
questioned himself how it had found its way into
the pit. When it came near him he grasped its tail,
defending himself from its bites by means of his
cloak. Holding fast, he followed the fox to the
aperture by which it had entered, enlarged it so
that he could creep out, and soon appeared alive
again in the field, to the surprise of his friends and
the consternation of his foes.

Being seized again by some Cretan bowmen, he
was rescued by a maiden, who dreamed that wolves
had brought into the city a chained lion, bereft of
its claws, and that she had given it claws and set it
free. When she saw Aristomenes among his captors,
she believed that her dream had come true, and that
the gods desired her to set him free. This she did
by making his captors drunk, and giving him a
dagger with which he cut his bonds. The indiscreet
bowmen were killed by the warrior, while the es-
caped hero rewarded the maiden by making her the
wife of his son.

But Messenia was doomed by the gods, and no
man could avert its fate. The oracle of Delphi de-
clared that if the he-goat (Tragos) should drink the
waters of the Neda, the god could no longer defend
that fatal country. And now a fig-tree sprang up
on the banks of the Neda, and, instead of spreading
its branches aloft, let them droop till they touched
ARISTOMENES, THE HERO OF MESSENIA. 65

the waters of the stream. This a seer announced
as the fulfilment of the oracle, for in the Messenian
language the fig-tree was called Tragos.

Aristomenes now, discouraged by the decree of
the gods, and finding himself surrounded, through
treachery, by his enemies in his mountain strong-
hold, decided to give up the hopeless struggle. He
broke fiercely through the ranks of his assailants
with his sons and followers, and left his country to
the doom which the gods had decreed.

The end of his career, like its earlier events, was,
according to the legend, under the control of the
deities. Damagetes, the king of the island of
Rhodes, had been told by an oracle that he must
marry the bravest of the Hellenes (or Greeks).
Believing that Aristomenes had the best claim to
this proud title, he asked him for the hand of his
daughter in marriage, and offered him a home in
his island realm. Aristomenes consented, and spent
the remainder of his days in Rhodes. From his
daughter descended the illustrious family of the
Diagoride.

This romantic story of the far past resembles
those of King Alfred of England, of Wallace and
Bruce of Scotland, and of other heroes who have
defended their countries single-handed against a
powerful foe. But we are not done with it yet.
There is another singular and interesting episode to
be told,—a legend, no doubt, but one which has
almost passed into history.

The story goes that the Spartans, losing heart at
the success of the Messenians in the early years of

é 6%
66 HISTORICAL TALES.

the war, took the usual method then adopted, and
sent to the oracle at Delphi for advice. The oracle
told them to apply to Athens for a leader. They
did so, sending an embassy to that city; and in
response to the oracle the Athenians sent them a
lame schoolmaster named Tyrteus. They did not
dare to resist the command of the god, but they had
no desire to render any actual aid to the Spartans.

However, Apollo seems to have been wiser than
the Athenians. The lame schoolmaster was an able
poet as well, and on reaching Sparta he composed a
series of war-songs which so inspirited the army
that they marched away to victory. Tyrteus was
probably not only an able poet; very likely he also
gave the Spartans good advice in the conduct of the
war, and though he did not lead their armies, he
animated them by his songs and aided them with
his advice until victory followed their career of
defeat.

For many years afterwards the war-songs of Tyr-
teus remained highly popular at Sparta, and some
of them have come down to our own days. As for
the actual history of this war, most of what we
know seems to have been written by Tyrteus, who
was thus not only the poet but the historian of the
Messenian wars.
SOLON, THE LAW-GIVER OF
ATHENS.

We have told how Sparta came to have an aris-
tocratic government, under the laws of Lycurgus.
We have now to tell how Athens came to have a
democratic government, under the laws of Solon.
These formed the types of government for later
Greece, some of whose nations became aristocracies,
following the example of Sparta; others became
democracies, and formed their governments on the
model of that of Athens.

As before Lycurgus the Spartan commonwealth
was largely without law, so was Athens before
Solon. In those days the people of Attica—of
which Athens was the capital city—were divided
into three factions,—the rich, the middle class, and
the poor. As for the poor, they were in a condition
of misery, being loaded down with debt, and many
of them in a state of slavery to the rich, who owned
nearly all the land.

At that period what law existed was very severe
against debtors. The debtor became the slave of
his creditor, and was held in this state until he
could pay his debt, either in money or in labor.
And not only he, but his younger sons and his un-
married daughters and sisters, were reduced to
slavery. Through the action of this severe law

67
68 HISTORICAL TALES,

many of the poor of Attica were owned as slaves,
many had been sold as slaves, some had kept their
freedom only by selling their own children, and
some had fied from the country to escape slavery.
And this, too, had arisen in many cases through in-
justice in the courts and corruption of the judges.
In the time of Solon the misery and oppression
from these laws became so great that there was a
general mutiny of the poor against the rich. They
refused to submit to the unjust enactments of their
rulers, and the state fell into such frightful disorder
that the governing class, no longer able to control
the people, were obliged to call Solon to their aid.
Solon did not belong to the rich men of Athens,
‘though he was of noble birth, and, like so many of
the older Greeks, traced his family line back to the
gods. Neptune, the ocean deity, was fabled to be
his far-off ancestor. He was born about 638 B.o.
His father had spent most of his money, largely in
kind deeds to others, and the son found himself
obliged to become a merchant. In this pursuit he
travelled in many parts of Greece and Asia, and
in his journeys paid more heed to the gaining of
knowledge than of money, so that when he came
back his mind was fuller than his purse. Men who
seek wisdom rarely succeed in gaining much money,
but Solon’s story goes to show that wisdom is far
the better of the two, and that a rich mind is of
more value than a rich purse. When he returned
to Attica he gained such fame as a poet and a man
of learning and wisdom that he has ever since been
classed as one of the Seven Wise Men of Greece.
SOLON, THE LAW-GIVER OF ATHENS. 69

Of these wise men the following story is told.
Some fishermen of Cos cast their net into the sea,
and brought up in its meshes a golden tripod, which
the renowned Helen had thrown into the sea during
her return from Troy. A dispute arose as to whom
the tripod should belong. Several cities were ready
to go to war about it. To prevent bloodshed the
oracle of Apollo was applied to, and answered that
it should be sent to the wisest man that could be
found.

It was at first sent to Thales of Miletus, a man
famous for wisdom. But he- decided that Bias of
Priene was wiser than he, and sent it to him. And
thus it went the round of the seven wise men,—
Solon among them, so wé are told,—and finally
came back to Thales. He refused to keep it, and
placed it in the temple of Apollo at Thebes.

An evidence alike of Solon’s wisdom, shrewdness,
and political skill arose in the war for the island of
Salamis, which adjoined the two states of Megara
and Attica, and for whose possession they were at
war. After the Athenians had been at great loss of
men and money in this conflict, Megara gained the
island, and the people of Athens became so dis-
gusted with the whole affair that a law was passed
declaring that any man who spoke or wrote again
about the subject should be put to death.

This Solon held to be a stain on the honor of
Athens. He did not care to lose his life by break-
ing the law, but was not content that his country
should rest under the stigma of defeat, and should
yield so valuable a prize, He accordingly had it
70 HISTORICAL TALES.

given out that he had gone mad; and in pretended
insanity he rushed into the public square, mounted
the herald’s stone, and repeated a poem he had com-
posed for the occasion, recalling vividly to the people
the disgrace of their late defeat. His stirring appeal
so wrought upon their feelings that the law was re-
pealed, war was declared, and Solon was placed in
command of the army.

Megara sent out a ship to watch the proceedings,
but this was seized by Solon’s fleet and manned by
part of his force. The remainder of his men were
landed and marched towards the city of Salamis,
on which they made an assault. While this was
going on, Solon sailed up with the ship he had cap-
tured. The Megarians, thinking it to be their own
ship, permitted it to enter the port, and the city
was taken by surprise. Salamis, thus won, con-
tinued to belong to Athens till those late days when
Philip of Macedon conquered Greece.

To Solon, now acknowledged to be the wisest and
most famous of the Athenians, the tyrants who had
long misruled Athens turned, when they found the
people in rebellion against their authority. In the
year 594 B.c. he was chosen archon, or ruler of the
state, and was given full power to take such meas-
ures as were needed to put an end to the disorders.
Probably these autocrats supposed that he would
help them to continue in power; but, if so, they did
not know the man with whom they had to deal.

Solon might easily have made himself a despot,
if he had chosen,—all the states of Greece being
then under the rule of despots or of tyrannical aris-
SOLON, THE LAW-GIVER OF ATHENS. 71

tocrats. But he was too honest and too wise for
this. He set himself earnestly to overcome the
difficulties which lay before him. And he did this
with a radical hand. In truth, the people were in
no mood for any but radical measures.

The enslaved debtors were at once set free. All
contracts in which the person or the land of the
debtor had been given as. security were cancelled.
No future contract under which a citizen could be
enslaved or imprisoned for debt was permitted.
All past claims against the land of Attica were can-
celled, and the mortgage pillars removed. (These
pillars were set up at the boundaries of the land,
and had the lender's name and the amount of the
debt cut into the stone).

But as many of the creditors were themselves in
debt to richer men, and as Solon’s laws left them
poor, he adopted a measure for their relief. This
was to lower the value of the money of the state.
The old silver drachmas were replaced by new
drachmas, of which seventy-three equalled one hun-
dred of the old. Debtors were thus able to pay
their debts at a discount of twenty-seven per cent.,
and the great loss fell on the rich; and justly so, for
most of them had gained their wealth through dis-
honesty and oppression. Lastly, Solon made full
citizens of all from whom political rights had been
taken, except those who had been condemned for
murder or treason.

This was a bold measure. And, like such bold
measures generally, it did injustice to many. But
the evil was temporary, the good permanent. It
72 HISTORICAL TALES.

put an end to much injustice, and no such condition
as had prevailed ever again arose in Athens. The
government of the aristocracy came to an end under
Solon’s laws. From that time forward Athens grew
more and more a government of the people.

The old assembly of the people existed then, but
all its power had been taken from it. Solon gave
back to it the right of voting and of passing laws.
But he established a council of four hundred men,
elected annually by the people, whose duty it was
to consider the business-upon which the assembly
was to act. And the assembly could only deal with
business that was brought before it by this council.

The assemblies of the people took place on the
Pnyx, a hill that overlooked the city, and from
which could be seen the distant sea. At its right
stood the Acropolis, that famous hill on which the
noblest of temples were afterwards built. Between
these two hills rose the Arcopagus, on which the
Athenian supreme court held its sessions. The
Athenians loved to do their business in the open air,
and, while discussing questions of law and justice,
delighted in the broad view before them of the
temples, the streets, and the crowded marts of trade
» of the city, and the shining sea, with its white-sailed
craft, afar in the sunny distance.

Solon’s laws went further than we have said. He
divided the people into four ranks or divisions, ac-
cording to their wealth in land. The richer men
were, the more power they were given in the state.
But at the same time they had to pay heavier taxes,
so that their greater authority was not an unmixed
SOLON, THE LAW-GIVER OF ATHENS, 73

blessing. The lowest class, composed of the poorest
citizens, had no taxes at all to pay, and no power in
the state, other than the right to vote in the assem-
bly. When called out as soldiers arms were fur-
nished them, while the other classes had to buy their
own arms.

Various other laws were made by Solon. The old
law against crime, established long before by Draco,
had made death the penalty for every crime, from
murder to petty theft. This severe law was re-
pealed, and the punishment made to agree with the
crime. Minor laws were these: The living could
not speak evil of the dead. No person could draw
more than a fixed quantity of water daily from the
public wells. People who raised bees must not have
their hives too near those of their neighbors. It
was fixed how women should dress, and they were
forbidden to scratch or tear themselves at funerals.
They had to carry baskets of a fixed size when they
went abroad. A dog that bit anybody had to be
delivered up with a log four feet and a half long
tied to its neck. Such were some of the laws which
the council swore to maintain, each member vowing
that if he broke any of them he would dedicate a
golden statue as large as himself to Apollo, at Delphi.

Having founded his laws Solon, fearing that he
would be forced to make changes in them, left
Athens, having bound the people by oath to keep
them for ten years, during which time he proposed
to be absent.

From Athens he set sail for Egypt, and in that
ancient realm talked long with two learned priests

D 7
74. HISTORICAL TALES.

about the old history of the land. Among the storics
they told him was a curious one about a great island
named Atlantis, far in the western ocean, against
which Athens had waged war nine thousand years
before, and which had afterwards sunk under the
Atlantic’s waves. It was one of those fanciful
legends of which the past had so great a store.

From Egypt he went to Cyprus, where he dwelt
long and made useful changes. He is also said to
have visited, at Sardis, Croesus, the king of Lydia, a
monarch famous for his wealth and good fortune.
About this visit a pretty moral story is told. It is
probably not true, being a fiction of the ancient story-
tellers, but, fiction or not, it is well worth the telling.

Croesus had been so fortunate in war that he had
made his kingdom great and prosperous, while he
was esteemed the richest monarch of his times. He
lodged Solon in his palace and had his servants
show him all the treasures which he had gained.
He then, conversing with his visitor, praised him
for his wisdom, and asked him whom he deemed to
be the happiest of men.

He expected an answer flattering to his vanity,
but Solon simply replied,—

“Tellus, of Athens.”

“ And why do you deem Tellus the happiest?” de-
manded Croesus.

Solon gave as his reason that Tellus lived in com-
fort and had good and beautiful sons, who also had
good children; and that he died in gallant defence
of his country, and was buried by his countrymen
with the highest honors.
SOLON, THE LAW-GIVER OF ATHENS. 75

«And whom do you give the second place in hap-
piness?” asked Croesus.

“ Cleobis and Bito,” answered Solon. “These were
men of the Argive race, who had fortune enough for
their wants, and were so strong as to gain prizes at
the Games.

“ But their special title to happiness was,” continued
Solon, that in a festival to the goddess Juno, at Ar-
gos, their mother wished to go ina car. As the oxen
did not return in time from the fields, the youths,
fearing to be late, yoked themselves to the car, and
drew their mother to the temple, forty-five furlongs
away. This filial deed gained them the highest
praise from the people, while their mother prayed
the goddess to bestow upon them the highest bless-
ing to which mortals can attain, After her prayer,
the youths offered sacrifices, partook of the holy
banquet, and fell asleep in the temple. They never
woke again! This was the blessing of the goddess.”

“ What,” cried Croesus, angrily, “is my happiness,
then, of so little value to you that you put me on a
level with private men like these ?”

“You are very rich, Croesus,” answered Solon,
“and are lord of many nations. But remember
that you have many days yet to live, and that any
single day in a man’s life may yield events that will
change all his fortune. As to whether you are
supremely happy and fortunate, then, I have no
answer to make. I cannot speak for your happiness
till I know if your life has a happy ending.” *

 

* The sequel to this episode will be found in the tale en-
titled “The Fortune of Croesus.”
76 HISTORICAL TALES.

Solon, having completed his travels, returned to
Athens to find it in turmoil. Pisistratus, a politi-
cal adventurer and a favorite with the people, had
gained despotic power by a cunning trick. He
wounded himself, and declared that he had been
attacked and wounded by his political enemies. He
asked, therefore, for a body-guard for his protection.
This was granted him by the popular assembly,
which was strongly on his side. With its aid he
seized the Acropolis and made himself master of the
city, while his opponents were forced to fly for their
lives.

This revolutionary movement was strenuously op-
posed by Solon, but in vain. Pisistratus had made
himself so popular with the people that they treated
their old law-giver like a man who had lost his
senses. As a last appeal he put on his armor and
placed himself before the door of his house, as if on
guard as a sentinel over the liberties of his country!
This appeal was also in vain.

“T have done my duty!” he exclaimed; “I have
sustained to the best of my power my country and
the laws.”

He refused to fly, saying, when ales on what he
relied for protection, “On my old age.’

Pisistratus—who proved a very mild decpomeneny
his aged opponent unharmed, and in the next year
Solon died, being then eighty years of age.

His laws lived after him, despite the despotism
which ruled over Athens for the succeeding fifty
years,
THE FORTUNE OF CRGSUS.

Tue land of the Hellenes, or Greeks, was not con-
fined to the small peninsula now known as Greece.
Hellenic colonies spread far to the east and the
west, to Italy and Sicily on the one hand, to Asia
Minor and the shores of the Black Sea on the
other. The story of the Argonauts probably arose
from colonizing expeditions to the Black Sea. That
of Croesus has to do with the colonies in Asia Minor.

These colonies clung to the coast. Inland lay
other nations, to some extent of Hellenic origin.
One of these was the kingdom of Lydia, whose
history is of the highest importance to us, since the
conflicts between Lydia and the coast colonies were
the first steps towards the invasion of Greece by
the Persians, that most important event in early
Grecian history.

These conflicts began in the reign of Crcesus, an
ambitious king of Lydia in the sixth century before
Christ. What gave rise to the war between Lydia
and the Greek settlements of Ionia and Molia we
do not very well know. An ambitious despot does
not need much pretext for war. He wills the war,
and the pretext follows. It will suffice to say that,
on one excuse or another, Croesus made war on

ie 17
78 HISTORICAL TALES.

every Ionian and AXolian state, and conquered them
one after the other.

First the great and prosperous city of Ephesus
fell. Then, one by one, others followed, till, by the
year 550 B.c., Croesus had become lord and master
of every one of those formerly free and wealthy
cities and states. Then, having placed all the col-
onies on the mainland under tribute, he designed
to conquer the islands as well, and proposed to build
ships for that purpose. He was checked in this plan
by the shrewd answer of one of the seven wise men
of Greece, either Bias or Pittacus, who had visited
Sardis, the capital of Lydia.

“What news bring you from Greece?” asked
King Creesus of his wise visitor.

“T am told that the islanders are gathering ten
thousand horse, with the purpose of attacking you
and your capital,” was the answer.

“What!” cried Croesus. “Have the gods given
these shipmen such an idea as to fight the Lydians
with cavalry ?”

“T fancy, O king,” answered the Greek, “that
nothing would please you better than to catch. these
islanders here on horseback. But do you not think
that they would like nothing better than to catch
you at sea on shipboard? Would they not avenge
on you the misfortunes of their conquered brethren ?”

This shrewd suggestion taught Croesus a lesson.
Instead of fighting the islanders, he made a treaty
of peace and friendship with them. But he con-
tinued his conquests on the mainland till in the end
all Asia Minor was under his sway, and Lydia had
THE FORTUNE OF CRSUS., 79

become one of the great kingdoms of the earth.
Such wealth came to Croesus as a result of his con-
quests and unchanging good fortune that he became
accounted the richest monarch upon the earth,
while Sardis grew marvellous for its splendor and
prosperity. At an earlier date there had come
thither another of the seven wise men of Greece,
Solon, the law-giver of Athens. What passed be-
tween this farseeing visitor and the proud monarch
of Lydia we have already told.

The misfortunes which ‘Solon told the king were
liable to come upon any man befell Creesus during
the remainder of his life. Herodotus, the historian,
tells us the romantic story of how the gods sent
misery to him who had boasted overmuch of his
happiness. We give briefly this interesting account.

Croesus had two sons, one of whom was deaf and
dumb, the other, Atys by name, gifted with the
highest qualities which nature has to bestow. The
king loved his bright and handsome son as dearly as
he loved his wealth, and when a dream came to him
that Atys would die by the blow of an iron weapon,
he was deeply disturbed in his mind.

How should he prevent such a misfortune? In
alarm, he forbade his son to take part in military
forays, to which he had before encouraged him; and,
to solace him for this deprivation, bade him to take a
wife. Then, lest any of the warlike weapons which
hung upon the walls of his apartments might fall and
wound him, the king had them all removed, and stored
away in the part of the palace devoted to the women.

But fate had decreed that all such precautions
80 HISTORICAL TALES.

should be in vain. At Mount Olympus, in Mysia,
had appeared a monster boar, that ravaged the
fields of the lowlands and defied pursuit into his
mountain retreat. Hunting parties were sent against
him, but the great boar came off unscathed, while
the hunters always suffered from his frightful tusks.
At length ambassadors were sent to Croesus, beg-
ging him to send his son, with other daring youths
and with hunting hounds, to aid them rid their
country of this destructive brute.

“That cannot be,” answered Croesus, still in terror
from his dream. “My son is just married, and can-
not so soon leave his bride. But I will send youa
picked band of hunters, and bid them use all zeal to
kill this foe of your harvests.”

With this promise the Mysians were quite con-
tent, but Atys, who overheard it, was not.

“Why, my father,” he demanded, “do you now
keep me from the wars and the chase, when you
formerly encouraged me to take part in them, and
win glory for myself and you? Have I ever shown
cowardice or lack of manly spirit? What must the
citizens or my young bride think of me? With
what face can I show myself in the forum? Hither
you must let me go to the chase of this boar, or
give a reason why you keep me at home?”

In reply Croesus told the indignant youth of his
vision, and the alarm with which it had inspired him.

“Ah!” cried Atys, “then I cannot blame you for
keeping this tender watch over me. But, father, do
you not wrongly interpret the dream? It said I
was to die stricken by an iron weapon. A boar
THE FORTUNE OF CRESUS. 81

wields no such weapon. Had the dream said I was
to die pierced by a tusk, then you might well be
alarmed; but it said a weapon. We do not propose
now to fight men, but to hunt a wild beast. I pray
you, therefore, let me go with the party.”

“You have the best of me there,” said Croesus.
“Your interpretation of the dream is better than
mine. You may go, my son.”

At that time there was at the king’s court a
Phrygian named Adrastus, who had unwittingly
slain his own brother and had flown to Sardis,
where he was purified according to the customs of
the country, and courteously received by the king.
Croesus sent for this stranger and asked him to go
with the hunting party, and keep especial watch
over his son, in case of an attack by some daring
band of robbers.

Adrastus consented, though against his will, his
misfortune having taken from him all desire for
scenes of bloodshed. However, he would do his ut-
most to guard the king’s son against harm.

The party set out accordingly, reached Olympus
without adventure, and scattered in pursuit of the
animal, which the dogs soon roused from its lair.
Closing in a circle around the brute, the hunters
drew near and hurled their weapons at it. Not the
least eager among the hunters was Adrastus, who
likewise hurled his spear; but, through a frightful
chance, the hurtling weapon went astray, and
struck and killed Atys, his youthful charge. Thus
was the dream fulfilled: an iron weapon had slain
the king’s favorite son.

gf
82 HISTORICAL TALES.

The news of this misfortune plunged Creesus into
the deepest misery of grief. As for Adrastus, he
begged to be sacrificed at the grave of his unfortu-
nate victim. This Crossus, despite his grief, refused,
saying,—

“Some god is the author of my misfortune, not
you. I was forewarned of it long ago.”

But Adrastus was not to be thus prevented, Deem-
ing himself the most unfortunate of men, he slew
himself on the tomb of the hapless youth. And for
two years Croesus abandoned himself to grief.

And now we must go on to tell how Croesus met
with a greater misfortune still, and brought the
Persians to the gates of Greece. Cyrus, son of
Cambyses, king of Persia, had conquered the neigh-
boring kingdom of Media, and, inspired by ambition,
had set out on a career of wide-spread conquest and
dominion. He had grown steadily more powerful,
and now threatened the great kingdom which Croesus
had gained.

The Lydian king, seeing this danger approaching,
sought advice from the oracles. But wishing first
to know which of them could best be trusted, he
sent to six of them demanding a statement of what
he was doing at a certain moment. The oracle of
Delphi alone gave a correct answer.

Thereupon Croesus offered up a vast sacrifice to
the Delphian deity. Three thousand oxen were
slain, and a great sacrificial pile was built, on which
were placed splendid robes and tunics of purple,
with couches and censers of gold and silver, all to
be committed to the flames. To Delphi he sent
THE FORTUNE OF CRGSUS. 83

presents befitting the wealthiest of kings—ingots,
statues, bowls, jugs, etc., of gold and silver, of great
weight. These Herodotus himself saw with aston-
ishment a century afterwards at Delphi. The en-
voys who bore these gifts asked the oracle whether
Croesus should undertake an expedition against the
Persians, and should solicit allies.

He was bidden, in reply, to seek alliance with the
most powerful nations of Greece. He was also told
that if he fought with the Persians he would over-
turn a “mighty empire.” Crcesus accepted this as
a promise of success, not thinking to ask whose em-
pire was to be overturned. He sent again to the
oracle, which now replied, “ When a mule shall be-
come king of the Medes, then thou must run away,
—be not ashamed.” Here was another enigma of
the oracle. Cyrus—son of a royal Median mother
and a Persian father of different race and lower
position—was the mule indicated, though Croesus
did not know this. In truth, the oracles of Greece
seem usually to have borne a double meaning, so
that whatever happened the priestess could claim
that her word was true, the fault was in the inter-
pretation.

Croesus, accepting the oracles as favorable, made
an alliance with Sparta, and marched his army into
Media, where he inflicted much damage. Cyrus
met him with a larger army, and a battle ensued.
Neither party could claim a victory, but Croesus re-
turned to Sardis, to collect more men and obtain
aid from his allies. He might have been successful
had Cyrus waited till his preparations were com-
84 HISTORICAL TALES,

plete. But the Persian king followed him to his
capital, defeated him in a battle near Sardis, and
besieged him in that city.

Sardis was considered impregnable, and Creesus
could easily have held out till his allies arrived had
it not been for one of those unfortunate incidents
of which war has so many to tell. Sardis was
strongly fortified on every side but one. Here the
rocky height on which it was built was so steep as
to be deemed inaccessible, and walls were thought
unnecessary. Yet a soldier of the garrison made
his way down this precipice to pick up his helmet,
which had fallen. A Persian soldier saw hin, tried
to climb up, and found it possible. Others followed
him, and the garrison, to their consternation, found
the enemy within their walls. The gates were
opened to the army without, and the whole city
was speedily taken by storm.

Croesus would have been killed but for a miracle.
His deaf and dumb son, seeing a Persian about to
strike him down, burst into speech through the
agony of terror, crying out, “Man, do not kill
Cresus!” The story goes that he ever afterwards
retained the power of speech.

Cyrus had given orders that the life of Croesus
should be spared, and the unhappy captive was
brought before him. But the cruel Persian had a
different death in view. He proposed to burn the
captive king, together with fourteen Lydian youths,
on a great pile of wood which he had constructed,
We give what followed as told by Herodotus, though
its truth cannot be vouched for at this late day.
THE FORTUNE OF CRG@SUS. 85

As Croesus lay in fetters on the already kindled
pile and thought of this terrible ending to his
boasted happiness, he groaned bitterly, and cried in
tones of anguish, “Solon! Solon! Solon!”

“What does he mean?” asked Cyrus of the in-
terpreters. They questioned Creesus, and learned
from him what Solon had said. Cyrus heard this
story not without alarm. His own life was yet to
end; might not a like fate come to him? He
ordered that the fire should be extinguished, but
would have been too late had not a timely down-
pour of rain just then come to the aid of the captive
king,—sent by Apollo, in gratitude for the gifts to
his temple, suggests Herodotus. Crcesus was after-
wards made the confidential friend and adviser of
the Persian king, whose dominions, through this
victory, had been extended over the whole Lydian
empire, and now reached to the ocean outposts of
Greece.
THE SUITORS OF AGARISTE.

Srcyon, the smallest country of the Peloponnesus,
lay on the Gulf of Corinth, adjoining the isthmus
which connects the peninsula with the rest of Greece.
In this small country—as in many larger ones—the
nobles held rule, the people were subjects. The rich
and proud rulers dwelt on the hill slopes, the poor
and humble people lived on the sea-shore and along
the river Asopus. But in course of time many of
the people became well off, through success in fish-
eries and commerce, to which their country was well
adapted. Weary of the oppression of the nobles, they
finally rose in rebellion and overthrew the govern-
ment. Orthagoras, once a cook, but now leader of
the rebels, became master of the state, and he and
his descendants ruled it for a hundred years. The
last of this dynasty was Cleisthenes, a just and
moderate ruler, concerning whom we have a story
to tell.

These lords of the state were called tyrants; but
this word did not mean in Greece what it means to
us. The tyrants of Greece were popular leaders who
had overthrown the old governments and laws, and
ruled largely through force and under laws of their
own making. But they were not necessarily tyran-

86
THE SUITORS OF AGARISTS. 87

nical. The tyrants of Athens were mild and just in
their dealings with the people, and so proved to be
those of Sicyon.

Cleisthenes, who became the most eminent of the
tyrants of Sicyon, had a beautiful daughter, named
Agaristé, whom he thought worthy of the noblest
of husbands, and decided that she should be married
to the worthiest youth who could be found in all the
land of Greece. To select such a husband he took
unusual steps.

When the fair Agaristé had reached marriageable
age, her father attended the Olympic games, at which
there were used to gather men of wealth and emi-
nence from all the Grecian states. Here he won
the prize in the chariot race, and then bade the
heralds to make the following proclamation:

“ Whoever among the Greeks deems himself wor-
thy to be the son-in-law of Cleisthenes, let him come,
within sixty days, to Sicyon. Within a year from
that time Cleisthenes will decide, from among those
who present themselves, on the one whom he deems
fitting to possess the hand of his daughter.”

This proclamation, as was natural, roused warm
hopes in many youthful breasts, and within the
sixty days there had gathered at Sicyon thirteen
noble claimants for the charming prize. From the
city of Sybaris in Italy came Smindyrides, and from
Siris came Damasus. Amphimnestes and Males made
their way to Sicyon from the cities of the Ionian Gulf.
The Peloponnesus sent Leocedes from Argos, Ami-
antus from Arcadia, Laphanes from Pseus, and Ono-
mastus from Elis. From Huboa came Lysanias;
88 HISTORICAL TALES.

from Thessaly, Diactorides; from Molossis, Alcon;
and from Attica, Megacles and Hippoclides. Of the
last two, Megacles was the son of the renowned
Alcmzon, while Hippoclides was accounted the
handsomest and wealthiest of the Athenians.

At the end of the sixty days, when all the suitors
had arrived, Cleisthenes asked each of them whence
he came and to what family he belonged. Then,
during the succeeding year, he put them to every
test that could prove their powers. He had had a
foot-course and a wrestling-ground made ready to
test their comparative strength and agility, and took
every available means to discover their courage,
vigor, and skill.

But this was not all that the sensible monarch
demanded in his desired son-in-law. He wished to
ascertain their mental and moral as well as their
physical powers, and for this purpose kept them
under close observation for a year, carefully noting
their manliness, their temper and disposition, their
accomplishments and powers of intellect, Now he
conversed with each separately; now he brought
them together and considered their comparative
powers. At the gymnasium, in the council chamber,
in all the situations of thought and activity, he tested
their abilities. But he particularly considered their
behavior at the banquet-table. From first to last
they were sumptuously entertained, and their de-
meanor over the trencher-board and the ,wine- aD
was closely observed.

In this story, as told us by garrulous old Herodotus,
nothing is said of Agaristé herself. In a modern ro-
THE SUITORS OF AGARISTE. 89

mance of this sort the lady would have had a voice
in the decision and a place in the narrative. There
would have been episodes of love, jealousy, and
malice, and the one whom the lady blessed with her
love would in some way—in the eternal fitness of
things—have become victor in the contest and car-
ried off the prize. But they did things differently in
Greece. The preference of the maiden had little to
do with the matter; the suitor exerted himself to
please the father, not the daughter; maiden hands
were given rather in barter and sale than in trust
and affection; in truth, almost the only lovers we
meet with in Grecian history are Hemon and An-
tigone, of whom we have spoken in the tale of the
“Seven against Thebes.”

And thus it was in the present instance. It was
the father the suitors courted, not the daughter.
They proved their love over the banquet-table, not
at the trysting-place. It was by speed of foot and
skill in council, not by whispered words of devotion,
that they contended for the maidenly prize. Or, if
lovers’ meetings took place and lovers’ vows were
passed, they were matters of the strictest secrecy,
and not for Greek historians to put on paper or
Greek ears to hear.

But the year of probation came in due time to its
end, and among all the suitors the two from Athens
most won the favor of Cleisthenes. And of the two
he preferred Hippoclides. It was not alone for his
handsome face and person and manly bearing that
this favored youth was chosen, but also because he
was descended from a noble family of Corinth which

g*
90 HISTORICAL TALES,

Cleisthenes esteemed. Yet “there is many a slip
between the cup and the lip,” an adage whose truth
Hippoclides was to learn.

When the day came on which the choice of the
father was to be made, and the wedding take place,
Cleisthenes held a great festival in honor of the occa-
sion. First, to gain the favor of the gods, he offered
a hundred oxen in sacrifice. Then, not only the suit-
ors, but all the people of the city were invited to a
grand banquet and festival, at the end of which the
choice of Cleisthenes was to be declared. What tor-
ments of love and fear Agaristé suffered during this
slow-moving feast the historian does not say. Yet it
may be that she was the power behind the throne,
and that the proposed choice of the handsome Hip-
poclides was due as much to her secret influence as
to her father’s judgment.

However this be, the feast went on to its end, and
was followed by a contest between the suitors in
music and oratory, with all the ‘people to decide.
As the drinking which followed went on, Hippo-
clides, who had surpassed all the others as yet,
shouted to the flute-player, bidding him to play a
dancing air, as he proposed to show his powers in
the dance.

The wine was in his weak head, and what he con-
sidered marvellously fine dancing did not appear so
to Cleisthenes, who was closely watching his pro-
posed son-in-law. Hippoclides, however, in a mood
to show all his accomplishments, now bade an at-
tendant to bring in a table. This being brought, ho
leaped upon it, and danced some Laconian steps,
THE SUITORS OF AGARISTE. 91

which he followed by certain Attic ones. Finally,
to show his utmost powers of performance, he stood
on his head on the table, and peg to dance with
his legs in empty air.

This was too much for Cleisthenes. He had
changed his opinion of Hippoclides during his light
and undignified exhibition, but restrained himself
from speaking to avoid any outbreak or ill feeling.
But on seeing him tossing his legs in this shameless
manner in the air, the indignant monarch cried out,—

“Son of Tisander, you have danced your wife
away.”

“What does Hippoclides care?” was the reply of
the tipsy youth.

And for centuries afterwards “ What does Hippo-
clides care?’ was a common saying in Greece, to
indicate reckless folly and lightness of mind.

Cleisthenes now commanded silence, and spoke as
follows to the assembly :

“Suitors of my daughter, well pleased am I with
you all, and right willingly, if it were possible,
would I content you all, and not, by making choice
of one, appear to put a slight upon the rest. But
as it is out of my power, seeing that I have only one
daughter, to grant to all their wishes, I will present
to each of you whom I must needs dismiss a talent
of silver * for the honor that you have done in seek-
ing to ally yourselves with my house, and for your
long absence from your homes. But my daughter
Agaristé I betroth to Megacles, the son of Alemzon,

 

* Equal to about one thousand dollars,
92 HISTORICAL TALES.

to be his wife, according to the usage and wont of
Athens.”

Megacles gladly accepted the honor thus offered
him, the marriage was solemnized with all possible
state, and the suitors dispersed,—twelve of them
happy with their silver talents, one of them happier
with his charming bride.

We have but further to say that Cleisthenes of
Athens—a great leader and law-giver, whose laws
gave origin to the democratic government of that
city—was the son of Megacles and Agaristé, and that
his grandson was the famous Pericles, the foremost
name in Athenian history.
LHE TYRANTS SOR“CORINTH.

We have already told what the word “tyrant”
meant in Greece,—a despot who set aside the law
and ruled at his own pleasure, but who might be mild
and gentle in his rule. Such were the tyrants of
Sicyon, spoken of in our last tale. The tyrants of
Corinth, the state adjoining Sicyon, were of a harsher
character. Herodotus, the gossipping old historian,
tells some stories about these severe despots which
seem worth telling again.

The government of Corinth, like most of the gov-
ernments of Greece, was in early days an oligarchy,
—that is, it was ruled by a number of powerful aris-
tocrats instead of by a single king. In Corinth these
belonged to a single family, named the Bacchiade
(or legendary descendants of the god Bacchus), who
constantly intermarried, and kept all power to them-
selves.

But one of this family, Amphion by name, had a
daughter, named Labda, whom none of the Bacchiadse
would marry, as she had the misfortune to be lame.
So she married outside the family, her husband being
named Aétion, and a man of noble descent. Having
no children, Aétion applied to the Delphian oracle,
and was told that a son would soon be borne to him,

93
94 HISTORICAL TALES.

and that this son “would, like a rock, fall on the
kingly race and right the city of Corinth.”

The Bacchiade heard of this oracle, and likewise
knew of an earlier one that had the same signifi-
cance. Forwarned is forearmed. They remained
quiet, waiting until Aétion’s child should be born, and
proposing then to take steps for their own safety.

When, therefore, they heard that Labda had borne
a son, they sent ten of their followers to Petra (the
rock), where Aétion dwelt, with instructions to kill
the child. These assassins entered Aétion’s house,
and, with murder in their hearts, asked Labda, with
assumed friendliness, if they might see her child.
She, looking upon them as friends of her husband,
whom kindly feeling had brought thither, gladly
complied, and, bringing the infant, laid it in the arms
of one of the ruffianly band.

It had been agreed between them that whoever
first laid hold of the child should dash it to the ground.
But as the innocent intended victim lay in the mur-
derer’s arms, it smiled in his face so confidingly that
he had not the heart to do the treacherous deed.
He passed the child, therefore, on to another, who
passed it to a third, and so it went the rounds of the
ten, disarming them all by its happy and trusting
smile from performing the vile deed for which they
had come, In the end they handed the babe back
to its mother, and left the house.

Halting just outside the door, a hot dispute arose
between them, each blaming the others, and nine of
them severely accusing the one whose task it had
been to do the cruel deed. He defended himself,
THE TYRANTS OF CORINTH. 95

saying that no man with a heart in his breast could
have done harm to that smiling babe,—certainly not
he, In the end they decided to go into the house
again, and all take part in the murder.

But they had talked somewhat too long and too
loud. Labda had overheard them and divined their
dread intent. Filled with fear, lest they should re-
turn and murder her child, she seized the infant,
and, looking eagerly about for some place in which
she might conceal it, chose a cypsel, or corn-bin, as
the place least likely to be searched.

Her choice proved a wise one. The men returned,
and, as she refused to tell them where the child was,
searched the house in vain,—none of them thinking
of looking for an infant in a corn-bin. At length
they went away, deciding to report that they had
done as they were bidden, and that the child of
Aétion was slain.

The boy, in memory of his escape, was named
Cypselus, after the corn-bin. He grew up without
further molestation, and on coming to man’s estate
did what so many of the ancients seemed to have
considered necessary, went to Delphi to consult the
oracle.

The pythoness, or priestess of Apollo, at his ap-
proach, hailed him as king of Corinth. “He and
his children, but not his children’s children.” And
the oracle, as was often the case, produced its own
accomplishment, for it encouraged Cypselus to head
a rebellion against the oligarchy, by which it was
overthrown and he made king, For thirty years
thereafter he reigned as tyrant of Corinth, with a
96 HISTORICAL TALES,

prosperous but harsh rule. Many of the Corinthians
were put to death by him, others robbed of their tor-
tunes, and others banished the state. Then he died
and left the government to his son Periander.

Periander began his reign in a mild spirit. But
his manner changed after he had sent a herald to
Thrasybulus, the tyrant of Miletus, asking his advice
how he could best rule with honor and fortune.
Thrasybtlus led the messenger outside the city and
through a field of corn, questioning him as they
walked, while, whenever he came to an ear of corn
that overtopped its fellows, he broke it off and threw
itaside. Thus his path through the field was marked
by the downfall of all the tallest stems and ears.
Then, returning to the city, he sent the messenger
back without a word of answer to his petition.

Periander, on his herald’s return, asked him what
counsel he brought. “None,” was the answer;
“not a word. King Thrasybilus acted in the
strangest way, destroying his corn as he led me
through the field, and sending me away without a
word.” He proceeded to tell how the monarch had
acted.

Periander was quick to gather his brother tyrant’s
meaning. If he would rule in safety he must cut off
the loftiest heads,—signified by the tall ears of corn.
He took the advice thus suggested, and from that
time on treated his subjects with the greatest cruelty.
Many of those whom Cypselus had spared he put to
death or banished, and acted the tyrant in the fullest
sense of the word.

He even killed his wife Melissa; just why, we do
THE TYRANTS OF CORINTH, 97

not know. But we are told that she afterwards ap-
peared to him in a dream and said that she was cold,
being destitute of clothes. The garments he had
buried with her were of no use to her spirit, since
they had not been burned. Periander took his own
way to quiet and clothe the restless ghost. He pro-
claimed that all the wives of Corinth should go to
the temple of Juno. This they did, dressed in their
best, deeming it a festival, When they were all
within he closed the doors, and had them stripped
of their rich robes and ornaments, which he threw
into a pit and set on fire, calling on the name of
Melissa as they burned. And in this way the de-
mand of the shivering ghost was satisfied.

Periander had two sons,—the elder a dunce, the
younger, Lycophron (or wolf-heart), a youth of noble
nature and fine intellect. He sent them on a visit to
Proclus, their mother’s father, and from him the boys
learned, what they had not known before, that their
father was their mother’s murderer.

This story did not trouble the dull-brained elder,
but Lycophron was so affected by it that on his
return home he refused to speak to his father, and
acted so surlily that Periander in anger turned him
out of his house. The tyrant, learning from his
elder son the cause of Lycophron’s strange behavior,
grew still more incensed. He sent orders to those
who had given shelter to his son that they should
cease to harbor him. And he continued to drive him
from shelter to shelter, till in the end he proclaimed
that whoever dared to harbor, or even speak to, his
rebellious son, should pay a heavy fine to Apollo.

E g 9
98 HISTORICAL TALES.

Thus, driven from every house, Lycophron took
lodging in the public porticos, where he dwelt
without shelter and almost without food. Seeing
his wretched state, Periander took pity on him and
bade him come home and no longer indulge in such
foolish and unfilial behavior.

Lycophron’s only reply was that his father had
broken his own edict by coming and talking with
him, and therefore himself owed the penalty to
Apollo.

Periander, seeing that the boy was uncontrollable
in his indignation, and troubled at heart by the pite-
ous spectacle, now sent him by ship to the island of
Coreyra, a colony of Corinth. As for Proclus, the
tyrant made war upon him for his indiscreet revela-
tion, robbed him of his kingdom, Epidaurus, and
carried him captive to Corinth.

And the years went on, and Periander grew old
and unable properly to handle his affairs. His elder
son was incapable of taking his place, so he sent to
Corcyra and asked Lycophron to come to Corinth
and take the kingship of that fair land.

Lycophron, whose indignation time had not cooled,
refused even to answer the message. Then Periander
sent his daughter, the sister of Lycophron, hoping
that she might be able to persuade him. She made
a strong appeal, begging him not to let the power
pass away from their family and their father’s wealth
fall into strange hands, and reminding him that
mercy was a higher virtue than justice.

Her appeal was in vain. Lycophron refused to go
back to Corinth as long as his father remained alive.
THE TYRANTS OF CORINTH. 99

Then the desperate old man, at his wits’ end
through Lycophron’s obstinacy, sent a herald, say-
ing that he would himself come to Corcyra, and let
his son take his place in Corinth as king. To these
terms Lycophron agreed. But there were others to
deal with, for, when the terrified Corcyrians heard
that the terrible old tyrant was coming to dwell in
their island, they rose in a tumult and put Lycophron
to death,

And thus ended the dynasty of Cypselus, as the
oracle had foretold. Though Periander revenged
himself on the Corcyrians, he could not bring his
son to life again, and the children’s children of
Cypselus did not come to the throne.
THE RING OF POLYCRATES.

Near the coast of Asia Minor lies the bright and
beautiful island of Samos, one of the choicest gems
of the Aigean archipelago. This island was, some-
where about the year 530 B.c., seized by a political
adventurer named Polycrates. He accomplished
this by the aid of his two brothers, but of these he
afterwards killed one and banished the other,—Sylo-
son by name,—so that he became sole ruler and
despot of the island.

This island kingdom of Polycrates was a small
one, about eighty miles in circumference, but it was
richly fertile, and had the honor of being the birth-
place of many illustrious Greeks, among whom we
may name Pythagoras, the famous philosopher.
The city of Samos became, under Polycrates, “the
first of all cities, Greek or barbarian.’ It was
adorned with magnificent buildings and costly works
of art; was supplied with water by a great aque-
duct, tunnelled for nearly a mile through a moun-
tain; had a great breakwater to protect the harbor,
and a vast and magnificent temple to Juno: all of
which seem to have been partly or wholly con-
structed by Polycrates.

But this despot did not content himself with

100
THE RING OF POLYCRATES. 101

ruling the island and adorning the city which he
had seized. He was ambitious and unscrupulous,
and aspired to become master of all the islands of
the Aigean Sea, and of Ionia in Asia Minor. He
conquered several of these islands and a number
of towns in the mainland, defeated the Lesbian
fleet that came against him during his war with
Miletus, got together a hundred armed ships and
hired a thousand bowmen, and went forward with
his designs with a fortune that never seemed to
desert him. His naval power became the greatest
in the world of Greece, and it seemed as if he
would succeed in all his ambitious designs. But a
dreadful fate awaited the tryant. Like Croesus he
was to learn that good fortune is apt to be followed
by disaster. The remainder of his story is part
history and part legend, and we give it as told by
old Herodotus, who has preserved so many interest-
ing tales of ancient Greece.

At that time Persia, whose king Cyrus had over-
come Creesus, was the greatest empire in the world.
All western Asia lay in its grasp; Asia Minor was
overrun; and Cambyses, the king who had suc-
ceeded Cyrus, was about to invade the ancient land
of Egypt. The king of this country, Amasis by
name, was in alliance with Polycrates, rich gifts
had passed between them, and they seemed the best
of friends. But Amasis had his superstitions, and
the constant good fortune of Polycrates seemed to
him so different from the ordinary lot of kings that
he feared that some misfortune must follow it. He
perhaps had heard the story of Solon and Croesus.

g*
102 HISTORICAL TALES.

Amasis accordingly wrote a warning letter to his
friend.

The great prosperity of his friend and ally, he
said, caused him foreboding instead of joy, for he
knew that the gods were envious, and he desired
for those he loved alternate good and ill fortune.
He had never heard of any one who was successful
in all his enterprises that did not meet with calamity
in the end. He therefore counselled Polycrates to
do what the gods had not yet done, and bring some
misfortune on himself. His advice was that he
should select the treasure he most valued and could
least bear to part with, and throw it away so that it
should never be seen again. By this voluntary sacri-
fice he might avert involuntary loss and suffering.

This advice seemed wise to the despot, and he
began to consider which of his possessions he could
least bear to lose. He settled at length on his signet-
ring, an emerald set in gold, which he highly valued.
This he determined to throw away where it could
never be recovered. So, having one of his fifty-
oared vessels manned, he put to sea, and when he
had gone a long distance from the coast he took the
ring from his finger and, in the presence of all the
sailors, tossed it into the waters.

This was not done without deep grief to Poly-
crates. He valued the ring more highly than ever,
now that it lay on the bottom of the sea, irretriev-
ably lost to him, as he thought; and he grieved for
days thereafter, feeling that he had endured a real
misfortune, which he hoped the gods might accept
as a compensation for his good luck.
THE RING OF POLYCRATES. 103

But destiny is not so easily to be disarmed. Several
days afterwards a Samian fisherman had the fortune
to catch a fish so large and beautiful that he esteemed
it worthy to be offered as a present to the king.
He accordingly went with it to the palace gates
and asked to see Polycrates. The guards, learning
his purpose, admitted him. On coming into the
king’s presence, the fisherman said that, though he
was a poor man who lived by his labor, he could
not let himself offer such a prize in the public market.

_ “J gaid to myself,” he continued, “‘It is worthy:
of Polycrates and his greatness ;’ and so I brought
it here to give it to you.”

The compliment and the gift so pleased the tyrant
that he not only thanked the fisherman warmly,
but invited him to sup with him on the fish.

But a wonder happened in the king’s kitchen.
On the cook’s cutting open the fish to prepare it
for the table, to his surprise he found within it the
signet-ring of the king. With joy he hastened to
Polycrates with his strangely recovered treasure,
the story of whose loss had gone abroad, and told
in what a remarkable way it had been restored.

As for Polycrates, the return of the ring brought
him some joy but more grief. The fates, it appeared,
were not so lightly to be appeased. He wrote to
Amasis, telling what he had done and with what
result. The letter came to the Egyptian king like
a prognostic of evil. That there would be an ill
end to the career of Polycrates he now felt sure;
and, not wishing to be involved in it himself, he
sent a herald to Samos and informed his late friend
104 HISTORICAL TALES.

and ally that the alliance between them was at an
end.

It cannot be said that Amasis profited much by
this act. Soon afterwards his own country was
overrun and conquered by Cambyses, the Persian
king, and his reign came to a disastrous termina-
tion.

Whether there is any historical basis for this story
of the ring may be questioned. But this we do know,
that the friendship between Amasis and Polycrates
was broken, and that Polycrates offered to help
Cambyses in his invasion, and sent forty ships to the
Nile for this purpose. .On these were some Samians
whom the tyrant wished to get rid of, and whom he
secretly asked the Persian king not to let return.

These exiles, however, suspecting what was in
store for them, managed in some way to escape, and
returned to Samos, where they made an attack on
Polyerates. Being driven off by him, they went to
Sparta and asked for assistance, telling so long a
story of their misfortunes and sufferings that the
Spartans, who could not bear long speeches, curtly
answered, “ We have forgotten the first part of your
speech, and the last part we do not understand.”
This answer taught the Samians a lesson. The next
day they met the Spartans with an empty wallet,
saying, “Our wallet has no meal in it.” “Your
wallet is superfluous,” said the Spartans; meaning
that the words would have served without it. The
aid which the Spartans thereupon granted the exiles
proved of no effect, for it was against Polycrates,
the fortunate. They sent an expedition to Samos,
THE RING OF POLYCRATES. 105

and besieged the city forty days, but were forced to
retire without success. Then the exiles, thus made
homeless, became pirates. They attacked the weak
but rich island of Siphnos, which they ravaged, and
forced the inhabitants to buy them off at a cost of one
hundred talents. With this fund they purchased
the island of Hydrea, but in the end went to Crete,
where they captured the city of Cydonia. After
they had held this city for five years the Cretans re-
captured it, and the Samian exiles ended their career
by being sold into slavery.

Meanwhile the good fortune of Polycrates con-
tinued, and Samos flourished under his rule. In
addition to his great buildings and works of engi-
neering he became interested in stock-raising, and
introduced into the island the finest breeds of sheep,
goats, and pigs. By high wages he attracted the
ablest artisans of Greece to the city, and added to
his popularity by lending his rich hangings and
costly plate to those who wanted them for a wedding
feast or a sumptuous banquet. And that none of
his subjects might betray him while he was off upon
an extended expedition, he had the wives and chil-
dren of all whom he suspected shut up in the sheds
built to shelter his ships, with orders that these
should be burned in case of any rebellious outbreak.

Yet the misfortune that the return of the ring
had indicated came at length. The warning which
Solon had given Croesus applied to Polycrates as
well. The prosperous despot had a bitter enemy,
Orcetes by name, the Persian governor of Sardis.
As to why he hated Polycrates two stories are told,
106 HISTORICAL TALES.

but as neither of them is certain we shall not re-
peat them. It is enough to say that he hated Poly-
crates bitterly and desired his destruction, which he
laid a plan to bring about.

Orestes, residing then at Magnesia, on the Meander
River, in the vicinity of Samos, and being aware of
the ambitious designs of Polycrates, sent him a mes-
sage to the effect that he knew that while he desired
to become lord of the isles, he had not the means to
carry out his ambitious project. As for himself, he
was aware that Cambyses was bent on his destruc-
tion. He therefore invited Polycrates to come and
take him, with his wealth, offering for his protection
gold sufficient to make him master of the whole of
Greece, so far as money would serve for this.

This welcome offer filled Polycrates with joy. He
knew nothing of the hatred of Oretes, and at once
sent his secretary to Magnesia to see the Persian and
- report upon the offer. What he principally wished
to know was in regard to the money offered, and
Oreetes prepared to satisfy him in this particular.
He had eight large chests prepared, filled nearly full
of stones, upon which gold was spread. These were
corded, as if ready for instant removal.

This seeming store of gold was shown to the sec-
retary, who hastened back to Polycrates with a
glowing description of the treasure he had seen.
Polycrates, on hearing this story, decided to go at
once and bring Orcetes and his chests of gold to
Samos.

Against this action his friends protested, while the
soothsayers found the portents unfavorable. His
THE RING OF POLYCRATES. 107

daughter, also, had a significant dream. She saw
her father hanging high in the air, washed by Zeus,
the king of the gods, and anointed by the sun. Yet
in spite of all this the infatuated king persisted in
going. His daughter followed him on the ship, still
begging him to return. His only answer was that
if he returned successfully he would keep her an old
maid for years.

“Oh that you may perform your threat!” she
answered. “It is far better for me to be an old maid
than to lose my father.”

Yet the infatuated king went, despite all warnings
and advice, taking with him a considerable suite.
On his arrival at Magnesia grief instead of gold
proved his portion. His enemy seized him, put him
to a miserable death, and hung his dead body on a
cross to the mercy of the sun and the rains. Thus
his daughter’s dream was fulfilled, for, in the old be-
lief, to be washed by the rain was to be washed by
Zeus, while the sun anointed him by causing the fat
to exude from his body.

A year or two after the death of Polycrates, his
banished brother Syloson came to the throne in a
singular way. During his exile he found himself at
Memphis, in Egypt, while Cambyses was there with
his conquering army. Among the guards of the
king was Darius, the future king of Persia, but then
a soldier of little note. Syloson wore a scarlet cloak
to which Darius took a fancy and proposed to buy it.
By asudden impulse Syloson replied, “I cannot for
any price sell it; but I give it you for nothing, if it
must be yours.”
108 HISTORICAL TALES.

Darius thanked him for the cloak, and that ended
the matter there and then,—Syloson afterwards hold-
ing himself as silly for the impulsive good nature of
his gift.

But at length he learned with surprise that the
simple Persian soldier whom he had benefited was
now king of the great Persian empire. He went to
Susa, the capital, and told who he was. Darius had
forgotten his face, but he remembered the incident
of the cloak, and offered to pay a kingly price for
the small favor of his humbler days, tendering gold
and silver in profusion to his visitor. Syloson rejected
these, but asked the aid of Darius to make him king
of Samos. This the grateful monarch granted, and
sent Syloson an army, with whose aid the island
quickly and quietly fell into his hands.

Yet calamity followed this peaceful conquest.
Charilaus, a hot-tempered and half-mad Samian,
who had been given charge of the acropolis, broke
from it at the head of the guards, and murdered
many of the Persian officers who were scattered
unguarded throughout the town. The reprisal was
dreadful. The Persian army fell in fury on the
Samians and slaughtered every man and boy in the
island, handing over to Syloson a kingdom of women
and infants. Some time afterwards, however, the
island was repeopled by men from without, and
Syloson completed his reign in peace, leaving the
sceptre of Samos to his son.
THE ADVENTURES OF DEMO.-
CEDES.

Wuen Pythagoras, the celebrated Greek philoso-
pher, settled in the ancient Italian city of Crotona
(between 550 and 520 B.c.) there was living in that
town a youthful surgeon who was destined to have
a remarkable history. Democedes by name, the son
of a Crotonian named Calliphon, he strongly inclined
while still a mere boy to the study of medicine and
surgery, for which arts that city had then a reputa-
tion higher than any part of Greece.

The boy had two things to contend with, the hard
study in his chosen profession and the high temper
of his father. The latter at length grew unbear-
able, and the youthful surgeon ran away from home,
making his way to the Greek island of gina.
Here he began to practise what he had learned at
home, and, though he was very poorly equipped with
the instruments of his profession, he proved far abler
and more successful than the surgeons whom he
found in that island. So rapid, indeed, was his
progress that his first year’s service brought him an
offer from the citizens of Aigina to remain with them
for one year, at a salary of one talent,—the Aiginetan
talent being nearly equal to two thousand dollars.
The next year he spent at Athens, whose people had

10 109
110 HISTORICAL TALES.

offered him one and two-thirds talents. In the fol-
lowing year Polycrates of Samos bid higher still,
offering him two talents, and the young surgeon
repaired to that charming island.

Thus far the career of Democedes had been one of
steady progress. But, as Solon told Crcesus, a man
cannot count himself sure of happiness while he
lives. The good fortune which had attended the run-
away surgeon was about to be followed by a period of
ill luck and degradation, following those of his new
patron. In the constant wars of Greece a free citi-
zen could never be sure how soon he might be reduced
to slavery, and such was the fate of Democedes.

We have already told how Polycrates was treach-
erously seized and murdered by the Persian satrap
Oretes. Democedes had accompanied him to the
court of the traitor, and was, with the other attend-
ants of Polycrates, seized and left to languish in
neglect and imprisonment. Soon afterwards Orcetes
received the just retribution for his treachery, being
himself slain. And now a third turn came to the
career of Democedes. He was classed among the
slaves of Orcetes, and sent with them in chains to
Susa, the capital of Darius, the great Persian king.

But here the wheel of fortune suddenly took an
upward turn. Darius, the king, leaping one day from
his horse in the chase, sprained his foot so badly
that he had to be carried home in violent pain.
The surgeons of the Persian court were Egyptians,
who were claimed to be the first men in their pro-
fession. But, though they used all their skill in
treating the foot of the king, they did him no good.
THE ADVENTURES OF DEMOCEDES. 111

Indeed, they only made the pain more severe. For
seven days and nights the mighty king was taught
that he was a man as well as a monarch, and could
suffer as severely as the poorest peasant in his king-
dom. The foot gave him such torture that all sleep
fied from his eyelids, and he and those around him
were in despair.

At length it came to the memory of one who had
come from the court of Orestes, at Sardis, that report
had spoken of a Greek surgeon among the slaves of
the slain satrap. He mentioned this, and the king,
to whom any hope of relief was welcome, gave orders
that this man should be sought and brought before
him. It wasa miserable object that was soon ushered
into the royal presence, a poor creature in rags, with
fetters on his hands, and deep lines of suffering upon
his face; a picture of misery, in fact.

He was asked if he understood surgery. “No,”
he replied ; saying that he was a slave, not a surgeon.
Darius did not believe him; these Greeks were art-
ful; but there were ways of getting at the truth.
He ordered that the scourge and the pricking instru-
ments of torture should be brought. Democedes,
who was probably playing a shrewd game, now ad-
mitted that he did have some little skill, but feared
to practise his small art on so great a patient. He
was bidden to do what he could, and went to work
on the royal foot.

The little skill of the Greek soon distanced the
great skill of the Egyptians. He succeeded perfectly
in alleviating the pain, and soon had his patient in a
deep and refreshing sleep. In a short time the foot
112 UISTORICAL TALES.

was sound again, and Darius could once more stand
without a twinge of pain.

The king, who had grown hopeless of a cure, was
filled with joy, and set no bounds to his gratitude.
Democedes had come before him in iron chains. As
a first reward the king presented him with two sets
of chains of solid gold. He next sent him to receive
the thanks of his wives. Being introduced into the
harem, Democedes was presented to the sultanas as
the man who had saved the king’s life, and whom
their lord and master delighted to honor. Hach of
the fair and grateful women, in reward for his great
deed, gave him a saucer-full of golden coins, which
were so many, and heaped so high, that the slave
who followed him grew rich by merely picking up
the pieces that dropped on the floor.

Nor did the generosity of Darius stop here. He
gave Democedes a splendid house and furniture,
made him eat at his own table, and showed him
every favor at his command. <As for the unlucky
Egyptian surgeons, they would all have been cruci-
fied for their lack of skill had not Democedes begged
for their lives. He might safely have told Darius
that if he began to crucify men for ignorance and
assurance he would soon have few subjects left.

But with all the favors which Darius granted, there
was one which he steadily refused to grant. And it
was one on which Democedes had set his heart. He
wanted to return to Greece. Splendor in Persia was
very well in its way, but to his patriotic heart a crust
in Greece was better than a loaf in this land of
strangers. Ask as he might, however, Darius would
THE ADVENTURES OF DEMOCEDES. 113

not consent. A sprain or other harm might come to
him again. What would he then do without Demo-
cedes? He could not let him go.

As asking had proved useless, the wily Greek next
tried artifice. Atossa, the favorite wife of the king,
had a tumor to form on her breast. She said noth-
ing of it for a time, but at length it grew so bad that
she was forced to speak to the surgeon. He exam-
ined the tumor, and told her he could cure it, and
would do so if she would solemnly swear to do in
return whatever he might ask. As she agreed to
this, he cured the tumor, and then told her that the
reward he wished was liberty to return to Greece.
But he told Atossa that the king would not grant
that favor even to her, and that it could only be had
by stratagem. He advised her how she should act.

When next in conversation with the king, Atossa
told him‘that the Persians expected him to do some-
thing for the glory and power of the empire. He
must add to it by conquest.

“So I propose,” he replicd. “I have in view an
expedition against the Scythians of the north.”

“ Better lead one against the Greeks of the west,”
she replied. “I have heard much about the beauty
of the maidens of Sparta, Athens, Argos, and Corinth,
and I want to have some of these fair barbarians to
serve me as slaves. And if you wish to know more
about these Greek people, you have near you the best
person possible to give you information,—the Greek
who cured your foot.”

The suggestion seemed to Darius one worth consid-
ering. He would certainly like to know more about

h : 10*
114 HISTORICAL TALES.

this land of Greece. In the end, after conversing
with his surgeon, he decided to send some confidential
agents there to gain information, with Democedes as
their guide. Fifteen such persons were chosen, with
orders to observe closely the coasts and cities of
Greece, obeying the suggestions and leadership of
Democedes. They were to bring back what informa-
tion they could,—and on peril of their lives to bring
back Democedes. If they returned without him it
would be a sorry home-coming for them.

The king then sent for Democedes, told him of the
proposed expedition and what part he was to take in
it, but imperatively bade him to return as soon as his
errand was finished. He was bidden to take with him
the wealth he had received, as presents for his father
and brothers. He would not suffer from its loss, since
as much, and more, would be given him on his return.
Lastly, orders were given that a store-ship, “ filled
with all manner of good things,” should be taken with
the expedition.

Democedes heard all this with the aspect of one to
whom it was new tidings. Come back? Of course
he would. He wished ardently to see Greece, but
for a steady place of residence he much preferred
Susa and the palace of his king. As for the gold
which had been given him, he would not take it
away. He wanted to find his house and property
on his return. The store-ship would answer for all
the presents he cared to make.

His shrewd reply left no shadow of doubt in the
heart of the king. The envoys proceeded to Sidon,
in Pheenicia, where two armed triremes and a large
THE ADVENTURES OF DEMOCEDES. 115

store-ship were got ready by their orders. In these
they sailed to the coast of Greece, which they fully
surveyed, and even went as far as Italy. The cities
were also visited, and the story of all they had seen
was carefully written down.

At length they arrived at Tarentum, in Italy, not
far from Crotona, the native place of Democedes.
Here, at the secret suggestion of the wily surgeon,
the king seized the Persians as spies, and, to prevent
their escape, took away the rudders of their ships.
Their treacherous leader took the opportunity to
make his way to Crotona, and here the Persians,
who had been released and given back their ships,
found him on their arrival. They seized him in the
market-place, but he was rescued from them by his
fellow-citizens in spite of the remonstrances and
threats of the envoys. The Crotonians even took
from them the store-ship, and forced them to leave
the harbor in their triremes.

On their way home the unlucky envoys suffered a
second misfortune; they were shipwrecked and made
slaves,—as was the cruel way of dealing with unfor-
tunates in those days. An exile from Tarentum,
named Gillis, paid their ransom, and took them to
Susa,—for which service Darius offered him any
reward he chose to ask. Like Democedes, all he
wanted was to go home. But this reward he did
not obtain. Darius brought to bear on Tarentum
all the influence he could wield, but in vain. The
Tarentines were obdurate, and would not have their
exile back again. And Gillis was more honorable
than Democedes. He did not lay plans to bring a
116 HISTORICAL TALES.

Persian invasion upon Greece through bis selfish wish
to get back to his native land.

A few words more will tell all else we know about
Democedes. His last words to his Persian com-
panions bade them tell Darius that he was about to
marry the daughter of Milo of Crotona, famed as
the greatest wrestler of his time. Darius knew well
the reputation of Milo. He had probably learned it
from Democedes himself. Anda Persian king was
more likely to admire a muscular than a mental
giant. Milo meant more to him than Homer or any
hero of the pen. Democedes did marry Milo’s daugh-
ter, paying a high price for the honor, for the sole
purpose, so far as we know, of sending back this
boastful message to his friend, the king. And thus
ends all we know of the story of the surgeon of
Crotona,
DARIUS AND THE SCYTHIANS.

Tue conquest of Asia Minor by Cyrus and his
Persian army was the first step towards that in-
vasion of Greece by the Persians which proved
such a vital element in the history of the Hellenic
people. The next step was taken in the reign of
Darius, the first of Asiatic monarchs to invade
Kurope. This ambitious warrior attempted to win
fame by conquering the country of the Scythian
barbarians,—now Southern Russia,—and was taught
such a lesson that for centuries thereafter the peril-
ous enterprise was not repeated.

It was about the year 516 n.c. that the Persian
king, with the ostensible purpose—invented to ex-
cuse his invasion—of punishing the Scythians for a
raid into Asia a century before, but really moved
only by the thirst for conquest, reached the Bos-
phorus, the strait that here divides Europe from
Asia. He had with him an army said to have
numbered seven hundred thousand men, and on the
seas was a fleet of six hundred ships. A bridge of
boats was thrown across this arm of the sea,—on
which Constantinople now stands,—and the great
Persian host reached European soi! in the country

of Thrace.
117
118 HISTORICAL TALES.

Happy was it for Greece that the ambitious
Persian did not then seek its conquest, as Democedes,
his physician, had suggested. The Athenians, then
under the rule of the tyrant Pisistratus, were not
the free and bold people they afterwards became,
and had Darius sought their conquest at that time,
the land of Greece would probably have become a
part of the overgrown Persian empire. Fortunately,
he was bent on conquering the barbarians of the
north, and left Greece to grow in valor and pa-
triotism.

While the army marched from Asia into Europe
across its bridge of boats, the fleet was sent into
the Euxine, or Black Sea, with orders to sail for two
days up the Danube River, which empties into that
sea, and build there also a bridge of boats. When
Darius with his army reached the Danube, he
found the bridge ready, and on its swaying length
crossed what was then believed to be the greatest
river on the earth. Reaching the northern bank,
he marched onward into the unknown country of
the barbarous Scythians, with visions of conquest
and glory in his mind.

What happened to the great Persian army and
its ambitious leader in Scythia we do not very well
know. Two historians tell us the story, but prob-
ably their history is more imagination than fact.
Ctesias tells the fairy-tale that Darius marched
northward for fifteen days, that he then exchanged
bows with the Scythian king, and that, finding the
Scythian bow to be the largest, he fied back in terror
to the bridge, which he hastily crossed, having left
DARIUS AND THE SCYTHIANS. 119

a tenth of his army as a sacrifice to his mad ambi-
tion.

The story told by Herodotus is probably as much
a product of the imagination as that of Ctesias,
though it reads more like actual history. He says
that the Scythians retreated northward, sending
their wives and children before them in wagons,
and destroying the wells and ruining the harvests
as they went, so that little was left for the invaders
to eat and drink. On what the vast host lived we
do not know, nor how they crossed the various
rivers in their route. With such trifling considera-
tions as these the historians of that day did not
concern themselves. There were skirmishes and
combats of horsemen, but the Scythian king took
care to avoid any general battle. Darius sent him
a herald and taunted him with cowardice, but King
Idanthyrsus sent word back that if the Persians
should come and destroy the tombs of the fore-
fathers of the Scythians they would learn whether
they were cowards or not.

Day by day the monster Persian army advanced,
and day by day its difficulties increased, until its
situation grew serious indeed. The Scythians de-
clined battle still, but Idanthyrsus sent to his dis-
tressed foe the present of a bird, a mouse, a frog,
and five arrows. This signified, according to the
historian, “Unless you take to the air, like a bird;
to the earth, like a mouse; or to the water, like a
frog, you will become the victim of the Scythian
arrows.”

This warning frightened Darius. In truth, he
120 HISTORICAL TALES.

was in a desperate strait. Leaving the sick and
weak part of his army encamped with the asses he
had brought,—animals unknown to the Scythians,
who were alarmed by their braying,—he began a
hasty retreat towards his bridge of boats. But
rapidly as he could march, the swifter Scythians
reached the bridge before him, and counselled with
the Ionian Greeks, who had been left in charge,
and who were conquered subjects of the Persian
king, to break down the bridge and leave Darius
and his army to their fate.

And now we get back into real history again.
The story of what happened in Scythia is all
romance. All we really know is that the expedition
failed, and what was left of the army came back
to the Danube in hasty retreat. And here comes
in an interesting part of the narrative. The fleet
of Darius was largely made up of the ships of the
Jonians of Asia Minor, who had long been Persian
subjects. It was they who had bridged the Danube,
and who were left to guard the bridge. After
Darius had crossed the bridge, on his march north,
he ordered the Ionians to break it down and follow
him into Seythia, leaving only the rowers and sea-
men in the ships. But one of his Greek generals
advised him to let the bridge stand under guard of
its builders, saying that evil fortune might come to
the king’s army through the guile and shrewdness
of the Scythians.

Darius found this advice good, and promised to
reward its giver after his return. He then took a
cord and tied sixty knots in it, This he left with
DARIUS AND THE SCYTHIANS. 121

the Ionians. “Take this cord,” he said, “ Untie one
of the knots in it each day after my advance from
the Danube into Scythia. Remain here and guard
the bridge until you shall have untied all the knots;
but if by that time I shall not have returned, then
depart and sail home.”

Such were the methods of counting which then
prevailed. And the knowledge of geography was
not more advanced. Darius had it in view to march
round the Black Sea and return to Persia along its
eastern side,—with the wild idea that sixty days
would suffice for this great march.

Fortunately for him, as the story goes, the Jonians
did not obey orders, but remained on guard after
the knots were all untied. Then, to their surprise,
Scythians instead of Persians appeared. These told
the Jonians that the Persian army was in the great-
est distress, was retreating with all speed, and that
its escape from utter ruin depended on the safety
of the bridge. They urged the Greeks to break
the bridge and retire. If they should do so the
Persians would all be destroyed, and Ionia would
regain its freedom.

This was wise advice. Had it been taken it
might have saved Greece from the danger of Per-
sian invasion. The Ionians were at first in favor of
it, and Miltiades, one of their leaders, and after-
wards one of the heroes of Greek history, warmly
advised that it should be done. But Histisus, the
despot of Miletus, advised the other Ionian princes
that they would lose their power if their countries
became free,‘ since the Persians alone supported

FE 11
122 HISTORICAL TALES.

them, while the people everywhere were against
them. They determined, therefore, to maintain the
bridge.

But, to rid themselves of the Seyiiiane they pre-
tended to take their advice, and destroyed the bridge
for the length of a bow-shot from the northern shore
of the stream. The Scythians, thinking that they
now had their enemies at their mercy, departed in
search of their foes. That night the Persian army,
in a state of the greatest distress and privation,
reached the Danube, the Scythians having missed
them and failed to check their march. To the horror
of Darius and his starving and terror-stricken men,
the bridge, in the darkness, appeared to be gone.
An Egyptian herald, with a voice like a trumpet, was
ordered to call for Histiceus, the Milesian. He did so,
an answer came through the darkness, and the hopes
of the fleeing king were restored. The bridge was
speedily made complete again, and the Persian army
hastily crossed, reaching the opposite bank before
the Seythians, who had lost their track, reappeared
in pursuit.

Thus ended in disaster the first Persian invasion
of Europe. It was to be followed by others in
later years, equally disastrous to the invaders. As
for the despots of Ionia, who had through selfish-
ness lost the chance of freeing their native land,
they were to live to see, before many years, Ionia
desolated by the Persian tyrant whom they had
saved from irretrievable ruin. We shall tell how
this came about, as a sequel to the story of the in-
vasion of Scythia.
’ DARIUS AND THE SCYTHIANS. 123

Histiaus, despot of Miletus, whose advice had
saved the bridge for Darius, was richly rewarded
for his service, and attended Darius on his return
to Susa, the Persian capital, leaving his son-in-law
Aristagoras in command at Miletus. Some ten
years afterwards this regent of Miletus made an
attempt, with Persian aid, to capture the island of
Naxos. The effort failed, and Aristagoras, against
whom the Persians were incensed by their defeat
and their losses, was threatened with ruin. He
began to think of a revolt from Persian rule.

While thus mentally engaged, he received a
strangely-sent message from Histieus, who was
still detained at Susa, and who eagerly desired to
get away from dancing attendance at court and

return to his kingdom. Histisus advised his regent

to revolt. But as this message was far too danger-
ous to be sent by any ordinary channels, he adopted
an extraordinary method to insure its secrecy.
Selecting one of his most trusty slaves, Histisus
had his head shaved, and then pricked or tattooed
upon the bare scalp the message he wished to send.
Keeping the slave in seclusion until his hair had
grown again, he sent him to Miletus, where he was
instructed simply to tell Aristagoras to shave and
examine his head. Aristagoras did so, read the
tattooed message, and immediately took steps to
obey.

Word of the proposed revolt was sent by him to
the other cities along the coast, and all were found
ready to join in the attempt to secure freedom. Not
only the coast settlements, but the island of Cyprus,
124 HISTORICAL TALES.

joined in the revolt. At the appointed time all the
coast region of Asia Minor suddenly burst into a
flame of war.

Aristagoras hurried to Greece for aid, seeking it
first at Sparta. Finding no help there, he went to
Athens, which city lent him twenty ships,—a gift
for which it was to pay dearly in later years. Hur-
rying back with this small reinforcement, he quickly
organized an expedition to assail the Persians at the
centre of their power.

Marching hastily to Sardis, the capital of Asia
Minor, the revolted Ionians took and burned that
city. But the Persians, gathering in numbers, de-
feated and drove them back to the coast, where the
Athenians, weary of the enterprise, took to their
ships and hastened home.

When word of this raid, and the burning of
Sardis by the Athenians and Jonians, came to the
ears of Darius at his far-off capital city, he asked
in wonder, “The Athenians!—who are they?” The
name of this distant and insignificant Greek city
had not yet reached his kingly ears.

He was told who the Athenians were, and, calling
for his bow, he shot an arrow high into the air, at
the same time calling to the Greek deity, “Grant
me, Zeus, to revenge myself on those Athenians.”

And he bade one of his servants to repeat to him
three times daily, when he sat down to his mid-day
meal, “ Master, remember the Athenians!”

The invaders had been easily repulsed from Sardis,
but the revolt continued, and proved a serious and
stubborn one, which it took the Persians years to
DARIUS AND THE SCYTHIANS. 125

overcome. The smaller cities were conquered one
by one, but the Persians were four years in pre-
paring for the siege of Miletus. Resistance here
was fierce and bitter, but in the end the city fell.
The Persians now took a savage revenge for the
burning of Sardis, killing most of the men of this
important city, dragging into captivity the women
and children, and burning the temples to the
ground. ‘The other cities which still held out were
quickly taken, and visited like Miletus, with the
same fate of fire and bloodshed. It was now 495
B.c., more than twenty years after the invasion of
Scythia.

As for Histieus, he was at first blamed by Darius
for the revolt. But as he earnestly declared his
innocence, and asserted that he could soon bring
it to an end, Darius permitted him to depart.
Reaching Miletus, he applied at the gates for ad-
mission, saying that he had come to the city’s aid.
But Aristagoras was no longer there, and the
Mileseans had no use for their former tyrant. They
refused him admission, and even wounded him
when he tried to force his way in at night. He
then went to Lesbos, obtained there some ships,
occupied the city of Byzantium, and began a life
of piracy, which he kept up till his death, pillaging
the Ionian merchant ships as they passed into and
out of the Euxine Sea. Thus ended the career of
this treacherous and worthless despot, to whom
Darius owed his escape from Scythia.

11*
LHE ATHENIANS AT MARA-
THON.

Tux time came when Darius of Persia did not need
the bidding of a slave to make him “ Remember the
Athenians.” He was taught a lesson on the battle-
field of Marathon that made it impossible for him
ever to forget the Athenian name. Having dismally
failed in his expedition against the Scythians, he in-
vaded Greece and failed as dismally. It is the story
of this important event which we have next to tell.

And here it may be well to remark what terrible
consequences to mankind the ambition of a single
man may cause. The invasion of Greece, and all that
came from it, can be traced in a direct line of events
from the deeds of Histizus, tyrant of Miletus, who
first saved Darius from annihilation by the Scythians,
then roused the Jonians to rebellion, and, finally,
through the medium of Aristagoras, induced the
Athenians to come to their aid and take part in the
burning of Sardis. This roused Darius, who had
dwelt at Susa for many years in peace, to a thirst
for revenge on Athens, and gave rise to that series
of invasions which ravaged Greece for many years,
and whose fitting sequel was the invasion and con-
quest of Persia by Alexander the Great, a century
and a half later.

And now, with this preliminary statement, we may

126
THE ATHENIANS AT MARATHON, 127

proceed with our tale, No sooner had the Ionian re-
volt been brought to an end, and the Ionians punished
for their daring, than the angry Oriental despot pre-
pared to visit upon Athens the vengeance he had
vowed. His preparations for this enterprise were
great. His experience in Scythia had taught him
that the Western barbarians—as he doubtless consid-
ered them—were not to be despised. For two years,
in every part of his vast empire, the note of war was
sounded, and men and munitions of war were actively
gathered. On the coast of Asia Minor a great fleet,
numbering six hundred armed triremes and many
transports for men and horses, was prepared. The
Ionian and /Molian Greeks largely manned this fleet,
and were forced to aid their late foe in the effort to
destroy their kinsmen beyond the archipelago of the
Migean Sea.

An Athenian traitor accompanied the Persians,
and guided their leader in the advance against his
native city. We have elsewhere spoken of Pisistra-
tus, the tyrant of Athens, whose treason Solon had
in vain endeavored to prevent. After his death, his
sons Hipparchus and Hippias succeeded him in the
tyranny. Hipparchus was killed in 514 3.c., and in
511 Hippias, who had shown himself a cruel despot,
was banished from Athens. He repaired to the
court of King Darius, where he dwelt many years.
Now he came back, as guide and counsellor to the
Persians, hoping, perhaps, to become again a despot
of Athens; but only, as the fates decreed, to find a
grave on the fatal field of Marathon.

The assault on Greece was a twofold one. The
128 HISTORICAL TALES,

first was defeated by nature, the second by man.
A land expedition, led by the Persian general Mar-
donius, crossed the Hellespont in the year 493 B.c.,
proposing to march to Athens along the coast, and
with orders to bring all that were left alive of its in-
habitants as captives to the great king. On marched
the great host, nothing doubting that Greece would
fallan easy prey to their arms. Andas they marched
along the land, the fleet followed them along the ad-
joining sea, until the stormy and perilous promontory
of Mount Athos was reached.

No doubt the Greeks viewed with deep alarm this
formidable progress. They had never yet directly
measured arms with the Persians, and dreaded them
more than, as was afterwards shown, they had
reason to. But at Mount Athos the deities of the
winds came to their aid. As the fleet was rounding
that promontory, often fatal to mariners, a frightful
hurricane swooped upon it, and destroyed three hun-
dred of its ships, while no less than twenty thousand
men became victims of the waves. Some of the
crews reached the shores, but of these many died of
cold, and others were slain and devoured by wild
beasts, which roamed in numbers on that uninhabited
point of land. The land army, too, lost heavily from
the hurricane; and Mardonius, fearing to advance
farther after this disaster, ingloriously made his way
back to the Hellespont. So ended the first invasion
of Greece.

Three years afterwards another was made. Da-
rius, indeed, first sent heralds to Grecce, demanding
earth and water in token of submission to his will.
THE ATHENIANS AT MARATHON. 129

To this demand some of the cities cowardly yielded ;
but Athens, Sparta, and others sent back the heralds
with no more earth than clung to the soles of their
shoes. And so, a8 Greece was not to be subdued
through terror of his name, the great king prepared
to make it feel his power and wrath, incited thereto
by his hatred of Athens, which Hippias took care to
keep alive. Another expedition was prepared, and
put under the command of another general, Datis by
name.

The army was now sent by a new route. Darius
himself had led his army across the Bosphorus,
where Constantinople now stands, and where By-
zantium then stood. Mardonius conveyed his across
the southern strait, the Hellespont. The third expe-
dition was sent on shipboard directly across the sea,
landing and capturing the islands of the Aigean as it
advanced. Landing at length on the large island of
Bubeea, near the coast of Attica, Datis stormed and
captured the city of Eretria, burnt its temples, and
dragged its people into captivity. Then, putting his
army on shipboard again, he sailed across the narrow
strait between Bubcea and Attica, and landed on Attic
soil, in the ever-memorable Bay of Marathon.

It seemed now, truly, as if Darius was about to
gain his wish and revenge himself on Athens. The
plain of Marathon, where the great Persian army had:
landed and lay encamped, is but twenty-two miles
from Athens by the nearest road,—scarcely a day’s
march. The plain is about six miles long, and from
a mile and a half to three miles in width, extending
back from the sca-shore to the rugged hills and

1—i
130 HISTORICAL TALES,

mountains which rise to bind it in. A brook flows ©
across it to the sea, and marshes occupy its ends.
Such was the field on which one of the decisive bat-
tles of the world was about to be fought.

The coming of the Persians had naturally filled the
Athenians and all the neighboring nations of Greece
with alarm. Yet if any Athenian had a thought of
submission without fighting, he was wise enough to
keep it to himself. The Athenians of that day were
a very different people from what they had been fifty
years before, when they tamely submitted to the
tyranny of Pisistratus. They had gained new laws,
and with them a new spirit. They were the freest
people upon the earth,—a democracy in which every
man was the equal of every other, and in which each
had a full voice in the government of the state.
They had their political leaders, it is true, but these
were their fellow-citizens, who ruled through intel-
lect, not through despotism.

There were now three such men in Athens,—men
who have won an enduring fame. One of these was
that Miltiades who had counselled the destruction
of Darius’s bridge of boats. The others were named
Themistocles and Aristides, concerning whom we
shall have more to say. These three were among the
ten generals who commanded the army of Athens,
and each of whom, according to the new laws, was
to have command foraday. It was fortunate for the
Athenians that they had the wit to set aside this law
on this important occasion, since such a divided gen-
eralship must surely have led to defeat and disaster.

But before telling what action was taken there is
 

 

RUINS OF THE PARTHENON.
THE ATHENIANS AT MARATHON, 131

an important episode to relate. Athens—as was
common with the Greek cities when threatened—
did not fail to send to Sparta for aid. When the
Persians landed at Marathon, a swift courier, Phi-
dippides by name, was sent to that city for assist-
ance, and so fleet of foot was he that he performed
the journey, of one hundred and fifty miles, in forty-
eight. hours’ time.

The Spartans, who knew that the fall of Athens
would soon be followed by that of their own city,
promised aid without hesitation. But superstition
stood in their way. It was, unfortunately, only the
ninth day of the moon. Ancient custom forbade them
to march until the moon had passed its full. This
would be five days yet,—five days which might cause
the ruin of Greece, But old laws and observances
held dominion at Sparta, and, whatever came from
it, the moon must pass its full before the army could
march.

When this decision was brought back by the
courier to Athens it greatly disturbed the public
mind. Of the ten generals, five strongly counselled
that they should wait for Spartan help. The other
five were in favor of immediate action. Delay was
dangerous with an enemy at their door and many
timid and doubtless some treacherous citizens within
their walls.

Fortunately, there was an eleventh general, Calli-
machus, the war archon, or polemarch, who had a
casting vote in the council of generals, and who,
under persuasion of Miltiades, cast his vote for an
immediate march to Marathon. The other generals
132 HISTORICAL TALES.

who favored this action gave up to Miltiades their
days of command, making him sole leader for that
length of time. Herodotus says that he refused to
fight till his own day came regularly round,—but we
can scarcely believe that a general of his ability
would risk defeat on such a childish point of honor.
If so, he should have been a Spartan, and waited for
the passing of the full moon.

To Marathon, then, the men of Athens marched,
and from its surrounding hills looked down on the
great Persian army that lay encamped beneath, and
on the fleet which seemed to fill the sea. Of those
brave men there were no more than ten thousand.
And from all Greece but one small band came to join
them, a thousand men from the little town of Plata.
The numbers of the foe we do not know. They may
have been two hundred thousand in all, though how
many of these landed and took part in the battle
no one can tell. Doubtless they outnumbered the
Athenians more than ten to one.

Far along the plain stretched the lines of the Per-
sians, with their fleet behind them, extended along
the beach. On the high ground in the rear were
marshalled the Greeks, spread out so long that their
line was perilously thin. The space of a mile sepa-
rated the two armies.

And now, at the command of Miltiades, the valiant
Athenians crossed this dividing space at a full run,
sounding their pean or war-cry as they advanced.
Miltiades was bent on coming to close quarters at
once, so as to prevent the enemy from getting their
bowmen and cavalry at work.
THE ATHENIANS AT MARATHON. 133

The Persians, on seeing this seeming handful of
men, without archers or horsemen, advancing at a
run upon their great array, deemed at first that
the Greeks had gone mad and were rushing wildly
to destruction. The ringing war-cry astounded
them,—a Greek pean was new music to their
ears. And when the hoplites of Athens and Platea
broke upon their ranks, thrusting and hewing with
spear and sword, and with the strength gained
from exercises in the gymnasium, dread of these
courageous and furious warriors filled their souls.
On both wings the Persian lines broke and fled for
their ships. But in the centre, where Datis had
placed his best men, and where the Athenian line
was thinnest, the Greeks, breathless from their
long run, were broken and driven back. Seeing
this, Miltiades brought up his victorious wings, at-
tacked the centre with his entire force, and soon
had the whole Persian army in full flight for its
ships.

The marshes swallowed up many of the fleeing
host. Hundreds fell before the arms of the victors.
Into the ships poured in terror those who had
escaped, followed hotly by the victorious Greeks,
who made strenuous efforts to set the ships on fire
and destroy the entire host. In this they failed.
The Persians, made desperate by their peril, drove
them back. The fleet hastily set sail, leaving few
prisoners, but abandoning a rich harvest of tents
and equipments to the victorious Greeks. Of the
Persian host, some sixty-four hundred lay dead on
the field, the ships having saved them from further

12
134 HISTORICAL TALES.

slaughter. The Greek loss in dead was only one
hundred and ninety-two.

Yet, despite this signal victory, Greece was still
in imminent danger. Athens was undefended. The
fleeing fleet might reach and capture it before the
army could return. In truth, the ships had sailed in
this direction, and from the top of a lofty hill Mil-
tiades saw the polished surface of a shield flash in
the sunlight, and quickly guessed what it meant. It
was a signal made by some traitor to the Persian
fleet. Putting his army at once under march, despite
the weariness of the victors, he hastened back over
the long twenty-two miles at all possible speed, and
the worn-out troops reached Athens barely in time
to save it from the approaching fleet.

The triumph of Miltiades was complete. Only for
his quickness in guessing the meaning of the flashing
shield, and the rapidity of his march, all the results
of his great victory would have been lost, and Athens
fallen helpless into Persian arms. But Datis, finding
the city amply garrisoned, and baffled at every point,
turned his ships and sailed in defeat away, leaving
the Athenians masters of city and field.

And now the Spartans—to whom the full moon
had come too late—appeared, two thousand strong,
only in time to congratulate the victors and view the
dead Persians on the field. They had marched the
whole distance in less than three days. As for the
Athenian dead, they were buried with great cere-
mony on the plain where they fell, and the great
mound which covers them is visible there to this
day.
XERXES AND HIS ARMY.

Tue defeat of the Persian army at Marathon re-
doubled the wrath of King Darius against the
Athenians. He resolved in his autocratic mind to
sweep that pestilent city and all whom it contained
from the face of the earth. And he perhaps would
have done so had he not met a more terrible foe
even than Miltiades and his army,—the all-con-
queror Death, to whose might the greatest monarchs
must succumb. Burning with fury, Darius ordered
the levy of a mighty army, and for three years
busy preparations for war went on throughout the
vast empire of Persia. But, just as the mustering
was done and he was about to march, that grisly
foe Death struck him down in the midst of his
schemes of conquest, and Greece was saved,—the
great Darius was no more.

Xerxes, son of Darius, succeeded him on the
throne. This new monarch was the handsomest
and stateliest man in all his army. But his fair
outside covered a weak nature; timid, faint-hearted,
vain, conceited, he was not the man to conquer
Greece, small as it was and great as was the empire
under his control; and the death of Darius was in
all probability the salvation of Grecce.

185
136 HISTORICAL TALES.

Xerxes succeeded not only to the throne of Persia,
but also to the vast army which his father had
brought together. He succeeded, moreover, to a
war, for Egypt was in revolt. But this did not last
long; the army was at once set in motion, Egypt
was quickly subdued, and the Egyptians found
themselves under a worse tyranny than before.

Greece remained to conquer, and for that enter-
prise the timid Persian king was not eager. Mara-
thon could not be forgotten. Those fierce Athe-
nians who had defeated his father’s great host were
not to be dealt with so easily as the unwarlike
Egyptians. He held back irresolute, now persuaded
to war by one councillor, now to peace by another,
and finally—so we are told—driven to war by a
dream, in which a tall, stately man appeared to him
and with angry countenance commanded him not
to abandon the enterprise which his father had de-
signed. This dream came to him again the succeed-
ing night, and when Artabanus, his uncle, and the
advocate of peace, was made to sit on his throne
and sleep in his bed, the same figure appeared to
him, and threatened to burn out his eyes if he still
opposed the war. Artabanus, stricken with terror,
now counselled war, and Xerxes determined on the
invasion of Greece.

This story we are told by Herodotus, who told
many things which it is not very safe to believe.
What we really know is that Xerxes began the
most stupendous preparations for war that had ever
been known, and added to the army left by his
father until he had got together the greatest host
XERXES AND HIS ARMY. 137

the world had yet beheld. For four years those
preparations, to which Darius had already given
three years of time, were actively continued. Horse-
men and foot-soldiers, ships of war, transports,
provisions, and supplies of all kinds were collected
far and near, the vanity of Xerxes probably inciting
him to astonish the world by the greatness of his
army.

In the autumn of the year 481 Bc. this vast army,
marching from all parts of the mighty empire,
reached Lydia and gathered in and around the city
of Sardis, the old capital of Croesus. Besides the
land army, a fleet of twelve hundred and seven
ships of war, and numerous other vessels, were
collected, and large magazines of provisions were
formed at points along the whole line of march.
For years flour and other food, from Asia and
Egypt, had been stored in cities on the route, that
the fatal enemy starvation might not attack the
mighty host.

Two important questions occupied the mind of
Xerxes. How was he to get his vast army on
European soil, and how escape those dangers from
storm which had wrecked his father’s fleet? He
might cross the sea in ships, as Datis had done,—
and be like him defeated. Xerxes thought it safest
to keep on solid land, and decided to build a bridge
of boats across the Hellespont, that ocean river now
known as the Dardanelles, the first of the two straits
which connect the Mediterranean with the Black
Sea. As for the other trouble, that of storms at sea,
he remembered the great gale which had wrecked

12*
138 HISTORICAL TALES.

the fleet of Mardonius off the stormy cape of Mount
Athos, and determined to avoid this danger. A
narrow neck of land connects Mount Athos with
the mainland. Xerxes ordered that a ship-canal
should be cut through this isthmus, wide and deep
enough to allow two triremes—war-ships with three
ranks of oars—to sail abreast.

This work was done by the Pheenicians, the ablest
engineers at that time in the world. A canal was
made through which his whole fleet could sail, and
thus the stormy winds and waves which hovered
about Mount Athos be avoided.

This work was successfully done, but not so the
bridge of boats. Hardly had the latter been com-
pleted, when there came so violent a storm that the
cables were snapped like pack-thread and the bridge
sweptaway. With the weakness of a man of small
mind, on hearing of this disaster Xerxes burst into a
fit of insane rage. He ordered that the heads of the
chief engineers should be cut off, but this was far
from satisfying his anger. The elements had risen
against his might, and the elements themselves must
be punished. The Hellespont should be scourged for
its temerity, and three hundred lashes were actually
given the water, while a set of fetters were cast into
its depths. It is further said that the water was
branded with hot irons, but it is hard to believe that
even Xerxes was such a fool as this would make him.

The rebellious water thus punished, Xerxes re-
gained his wits, and ordered that the bridge should
be rebuilt more strongly than before. Huge cables
were made, some of flax, some of papyrus fibre, to
XERXES AND HIS ARMY. 139

anchor the ships in the channel and to bind them to
the shore. Two bridges were constructed, composed
of large ships laid side by side in the water, while
over each of them stretched six great cables, to moor
them to the land and to support the wooden cause-
way. In one of these bridges no less than three
hundred and sixty ships were employed.

And now, everything being ready, the mighty
army began its march. It presented a grand spec-
tacle as it made its way from Sardis to the sea.
First of all came the baggage, borne on thousands
of camels and other beasts of burden. Then came
one-half the infantry. The other half marched in
the rear, while between them were Xerxes and his
great body-guard, which is thus described by the
Greek historian :

First came a thousand Persian cavalry and as
many spearmen, each of the latter having a golden
pomegranate on the rear end of his spear, which
was carried in the air, the point being turned down-
ward. Then came ten sacred horses, splendidly
caparisoned, and following them rolled the sacred
chariot of Zeus, drawn by eight white horses. This
was succeeded by the chariot of Xerxes himself, who
wag immediately attended by a thousand horse-
guards, the choicest troops of the kingdom, of whose
spears the ends glittered with golden apples. Then
came detachments of one thousand horse, ten thou-
sand foot, and ten thousand horse. These foot-
soldiers, called the Immortals, because their number
was always maintained, had pomegranates of silver
on their spears, with the exception of one thousand,
140 HISTORICAL TALES.

who marched in front and rear and on the sides, and
bore pomegranates of gold. After these household
troops followed the vast remaining host.

The army of Xerxes was, as we have said, superior
in numbers to any the world had ever seen. Forty-
six nations had sent their quotas to the host, each
with its different costume, arms, mode of march, and
system of fighting. Only those from Asia Minor
bore such arms as the Greeks were used to fight
with. Most of the others were armed with javelins
or other light weapons, and bore slight shields or
none at all. Some came armed only with daggers
and a lasso like that used on the American plains.
The Ethiopians from the Upper Nile had their
bodies painted half red and half white, wore lion-
and panther-skins, and carried javelins and bows.
Few of the whole army bore the heavy weapons or
displayed the solid fighting phalanx of those whom
they had come to meet in war.

As to the number of men thus brought together
from half the continent of Asia we cannot be sure.
Xerxes, after reaching Hurope, took an odd way of
counting his army. Ten thousand men were counted
and packed close together. Then a line was drawn
around them, and a wall built about the space. The
whole army was then marched in successive detach-
ments into this walled enclosure. Herodotus tells
us that there were one hundred and seventy of these
divisions, which would make the whole army one
million seven hundred thousand foot. In addition
there were eighty thousand horse, many war-chariots,
and a fleet of twelve hundred and seven triremes
XERXES AND HIS ARMY. 141

and three thousand smaller vessels. According to
Herodotus, the whole host, soldiers and sailors, num-
bered two million six hundred and forty thousand
men, and there were as many or more camp-followers,
so that the whole number present, according to this
estimate, was over five million men. It is not easy
to believe that such a marching host as this could be
fed, and it has probably been much exaggerated ; yet
there is no doubt that the host was vast enough
almost to blow away all the armies of Greece with
the wind of its coming.

On leaving Sardis a frightful spectacle was pro-
vided by Xerxes: the army found itself marching
between two halves of aslaughtered man. Pythius,
an old Phrygian of great riches, had entertained
Xerxes with much hospitality, and offered him all
his wealth, amounting to two thousands talents of
silver and nearly four million darics of gold. This
generous offer Xerxes declined, and gave Pythius
enough gold to make up his darics to an even four
millions. Then, when the army was about to march,
the old man told Xerxes that he had five sons in the
army, and begged that one of them, the eldest, might
be left with him as a stay to his declining years.
Instantly the despot burst into a rage. The request
of exemption from military service was in Persia an
unpardonable offence. The hospitality of Pythius
was forgotten, and Xerxes ordered that his son
should be slain, and half the body hung on each side
of the army, probably as a salutary warning to all
who should have the temerity to question the des-
pot’s arbitrary will.
142 HISTORICAL TALES.

On marched the great army. It crossed the plain
of Troy, and here Xerxes offered libations in honor
of the heroes of the Trojan war, the story of which
was told him. Reaching the Hellespont, he had a
marble throne erected, from which to view the pas-
sage of his troops. The bridges—which the scourged
and branded waters had now spared—were perfumed
with frankincense and strewed with myrtle boughs,
and, as the march began, Xerxes offered prayers to
the sun, and made libations to the sea with a golden
censer, which he then flung into the water, together
with a golden bowl and a Persian scimitar, perhaps
to repay the Hellespont for the stripes he had in-
flicted upon it.

At the first moment of sunrise the passage began,
the troops marching across one bridge, the baggage
and attendants crossing the other. All day the
march continued, and all night long, the whip being
used to accelerate the troops; yet so vast was the
host that for seven days and nights, without cessa-
tion, the army moved on, and a week was at its end
before the last man of the great Persian host set
foot on European soil.

Then down through the Grecian peninsula Xerxes
marched, doubtless inflated with pride at the great-
ness of his host and the might of the fleet which
sailed down the neighboring seas and through the
canal which he had cut to baffle stormy Athos. One
regret alone seemed to come into his mind, and that
was that in a hundred years not one man of that
vast army would be alive. It did not occur to him
that in less than one year few of them might be
XERXES AND HIS ARMY. 143

alive, for all thought of any peril to his army and
fleet from the insignificant numbers of the Greeks
must have been dismissed with scorn from his mind.

Like locusts the army marched southward through
Thrace, eating up the cities as it advanced, for each
was required to provide a day’s meals for the mighty
host. For months those cities had been engaged in
providing the food which this army consumed in a
day. Many of the cities were brought to the verge
of ruin, and all of them were glad to see the army
march on. At length Xerxes saw before him Mount
Olympus, on the northern boundary of the land of
Hellas or Greece. This was the end of his own
dominions. He was now about to enter the territory
of his foes. With what fortune he did so must be
left for later tales.
HOW THE SPARTANS DIED AT
THERMOPYLA.

Wuen Xerxes, as his father had done before him,
sent to the Grecian cities to demand earth and water
in token of submission, no heralds were sent to
Athens or Sparta. These truculent cities had flung
the heralds of Darius into deep pits, bidding them
to take earth and water from there and carry it to
the great king. This act called for revenge, and
whatever mercy he might show to the rest of Greece,
Athens and Sparta were doomed in his mind to be
swept from the face of the earth. How they
escaped this dismal fate is what we have next to tell.

As one of the great men of Athens, Miltiades, had
saved his native land in the former Persian invasion,
so a second patriotic citizen, Themistocles, proved
her savior in the dread peril which now threatened
her. But the work of Themistocles was not done in
a single great battle, as at Marathon, but in years of
preparation. And a war between Athens and the
neighboring island of Aigina had much to do with
this escape from ruin.

To make war upon an island a land army was of
noavail. <A fleet was necessary. The Athenians were
accustomed to a commercial, though not to a war-
like, life upon the sea. Many of them were active,

144
HOW THE SPARTANS DIED AT THERMOPYLA, 145

daring, and skilful sailors, and when Themistocles
urged that they should build a powerful fleet he
found approving listeners. Longer of sight than his
fellow-citizens, he warned them of the coming peril
from Persia. The conflict with the small island of
Aigina was a small matter compared with that
threatened by the great kingdom of Persia. But to
prepare against one was to prepare against both.
And Athens was just then rich. It possessed valu-
able silver-mines at Laurium, in Attica, from which
much wealth came to the state. This money The-
mistocles urged the citizens to use in building ships,
and they were wise enough to take his advice, two
hundred ships of war being built. These ships, as it
happened, were not used for the purpose originally
intended, that of the war with /Ngina. But they
proved of inestimable service to Athens in the Per-
sian war.

The vast preparations of Xerxes were not beheld
without deep terror in Greece. Spies were sent into
Persia to discover what was being done. They were
captured and condemned to death, but Xerxes
ordered that they should be shown his total army
and fleet, and then sent home to report what they
had seen. He hoped thus to double the terror of the
Grecian states.

At home two things were done. Athens and
Sparta called a congress of all the states of Greece
on the Isthmus of Corinth, and urged them to lay
aside all petty feuds and combine for defence against
the common foe. It was the greatest and most suc-
cessful congress that Greece had ever yet held. All

@ k 13
146 HISTORICAL TALES.

wars came to an end. That between Athens and
/Kigina ceased, and the fleet which Athens had built
was laid aside for a greater need. The other thing
was that step always taken in Greece in times of
peril, to send to the temple at Delphi and obtain
from the oracle the sacred advice which was deemed
so indespensable.

The reply received by Athens was terrifying.
“Quit your land and city and fice afar!” cried the
prophetess. “Fire and sword, in the train of the
Syrian chariot, shall overwhelm you. Get ye away
from the sanctuary, with your souls steeped in
sorrow.”

The envoys feared to carry back such a sentence
to Athens. They implored the priestess for a more
comforting reply, and were given the following
enigma to solve: “This assurance I will give you,
firm as adamant. When everything else in the land
of Cecrops shall be taken, Zeus grants to Athéné
that the wooden wall alone shall remain uncon-
quered, to defend you and your children. Stand not
to await the assailing horse and foot from the conti-
nent, but turn your backs and retire; you shall yet
live to fight another day. O divine Salamis, thou
too shalt destroy the children of women, either at
the seed-time or at the harvest.”

Here was some hope, though small. “The wooden
wall?” What could it be but the fleet? This was
the general opinion of the Athenians. But should
they fight? Should they not rather abandon Attica
forever, take to their wooden walls, and seek a new
home afar? Salamis was to destroy the children of
HOW THE SPARTANS DIED AT THERMOPYLE. 147

women! Did not this portend disaster in case of a
naval battle ?

The fate of Athens now hung upon a thread.
Had its people fiown to a distant land one of the
greatest chapters in the history of the world would
never have been written. But now Themistocles, to
whom Athens owed its fleet, came forward as its
savior. Ifthe oracle, he declared, had meant that the
Greeks should be destroyed, it would have called Sala-
mis, where the battle was to be fought, “ wretched
Salamis.” But it had said “divine Salamis.” What
did this mean but that it was not the Greeks, but the
enemies of Greece, who were to be destroyed? He
begged his countrymen not to desert their country,
but to fight boldly for its safety. Fortunately for
Athens his solution of the riddle was accepted, and
the city set itself diligently to building more ships,
that they might have as powerful a fleet as possible
when the Persians came,

But not only Athens was to be defended; all
Greece was in peril; the invaders must be met by
land as well as by sea. Greece is traversed by moun-
tain ranges, which cross from sea to sea, leaving only
difficult mountain paths and narrow seaside passes.
One of these was the long and winding defile to
Tempé, between Mounts Olympus and Ossa, on the
northern boundary of Greece. There a few men
could keep back a numerous host, and thither at first
marched the small army which dared to oppose the
Persian millions, a little band of ten thousand men,
under the command of a Spartan general.

But they did not remain there. The Persians
148 HISTORICAL TALES.

were still distant, and while the Greeks awaited their
approach new counsels prevailed. There was another
pass by which the mountains might be crossed,—
which pass, in fact, the Persians took. Also the fleet
might land thousands of men in their rear. On the
whole it was deemed best to retreat to another pass,
much farther south, the famous pass of Thermopyle.
Here was a road a mile in width, where were warm
springs ; and at each end were narrow passes, called
gates—the name Thermopyle meaning “hot gates.”
Adjoining was a narrow strait, between the main-
land and the island of Eubcea, where the Greek fleet
might keep back the Persian host of ships. There
was an old wall across the pass, now in ruins. This
the Greeks rebuilt, and there the devoted band, now
not more than seven thousand in all, waited the
coming of the mighty Persian host.

It was in late June, of the year 480 B.c., that the
Grecian army, led by Leonidas, king of Sparta,
marched to this defile. There were but three hun-
dred Spartans * in his force, with small bodies of men
from the other states of Greece. The fleet, less
than three hundred ships in all, took post beside
them in the strait. And here they waited while day
by day the Persian hordes marched southward over
the land.

The first conflict took place between some vessels
of the fleets, whereupon the Grecian admirals, filled

 

* The army of Sparta, which before had stayed at home
to await the full of the moon, did so now to complete certain
religious ceremonies, sparing but this handful of men for the
vital need of Greece.
HOW THE SPARTANS DIED AT THERMOPYLE. 149

with sudden fright, sailed southward and left the
army to the mercy of the Persian ships. Fortu-
nately for Greece, thus deserted in her need, a strong
ally now came to the rescue. The gods of the winds
had been implored with prayer. The answer came
in the form of a frightful hurricane, which struck
the great fleet while it lay at anchor, and hurled
hundreds of ships on the rocky shore. For three
days the storm continued, and when it ended more
than four hundred ships of war, with a multitude of
transports and provision craft, were wrecked, while
the loss of life had been immense. The Greek fleet
had escaped this disaster, and now, with renewed
courage, came sailing back to the post it had aban-
doned, and so quickly as to capture fifteen vessels of
the Persian fleet.

While this gale prevailed Xerxes and his army lay
encamped before Thermopyle, the king in terror for
his fleet, which he was told had been all destroyed.
As for the Greeks, he laughed them to scorn. He
was told that a handful of Spartans and other Greeks
were posted in the pass, and sent a horseman to tell
him what was to be seen. The horseman rode near
the pass, and saw there the wall and outside it the
small Spartan force, some of whom were engaged in
gymnastic exercises, while others were combing their
long hair.

The great king was astonished and puzzled at this
news. He waited expecting the few Greeks to dis-
perse and leave the pass open to his army. The
fourth day came and went, and they were still there.
Then Xerxes bade the Median and Kissian divisions

13*
150 HISTORICAL TALES.

of his army to advance, seize these insolent fellows,
and bring them to him as prisoners of war. For-
ward went his troops, and entered the throat of the
narrow pass, where their bows and arrows were of
little use, and they must fight the Greeks hand to
hand. And now the Spartan arms and discipline
told. With their long spears, spreading shields,
steady ranks, and rigid discipline, the Greeks were
far more than a match for the light weapons, slight
shields, and open ranks of their foes. The latter
had only their numbers, and numbers there were of
little avail. They fell by hundreds, while the Greeks
met with little loss. For two days the combat com-
tinued, fresh defenders constantly replacing the
weary ones, and a wall of Persian dead being heaped
up outside the wall of stone.

Then, as a last resort, the Immortals,—the Persian
guard of ten thousand,—with other choice troops,
were sent; and these were driven back with the
same slaughter as the rest. The fleet in the strait
doubtless warmly cheered on the brave hoplites in
the pass; but as for Xerxes, “ Thrice,” says Herodo-
tus, “did he spring from his throne, in agony for his
army.”

The deed of a traitor rendered useless this noble
defence. A recreant Greek, Ephialtes by name,
sought Xerxes and told him of a mountain pass over
which he could guide a band to attack the defenders
of Thermopyle in the rear. <A strong Persian de-
tachment was ordered to cross the pass, and did so
under shelter of the night. At daybreak they
reached the summit, where a thousand Greeks from
HOW THE SPARTANS DIED AT THERMOPYLH. 151

Phocis had been stationed as a guard. These men,
surprised, and overwhelmed with a shower of arrows,
fied up the mountain-side, and left the way open to
the Persians, who pursued their course down the
mountain, and at mid-day reached the rear of the pass
of Thermopyle.

Leonidas had heard of their coming. Scouts had
brought him word. The defence of the pass was at
anend. They must fly or be crushed. A council
was hastily called, and it was decided to retreat.
But this decision was not joined in by Leonidas and
his gallant three hundred. The honor of Sparta
would not permit her king to yield a pass which he
had been sent to defend. The laws of his country
required that he should conquer or die at his post.
It was too late to conquer; but he could still die.
With him and his three hundred remained the Thes-
pians and Thebans, seven hundred of the former and
about four hundred of the latter. The remainder of
the army withdrew.

Xerxes had arranged to wait till noon, at which
hour the defenders of the pass were to be attacked
in front and rear. But Leonidas did not wait. All
he and his men had now to do was to sell their lives
as dearly as possible, so they marched outside the
pass, attacked the front of the Persian host, drove
them back, and killed them in multitudes, many of
them being driven to perish in the sea and the
morass. The Persian officers kept their men to the
deadly work. by threats and the liberal use of the
whip.

But one by one the Spartans fell. Their spears
152 HISTORICAL TALES.

were broken, and they fought with their swords,
Leonidas sank in death, but his men fought on more
fiercely still, to keep the foe back from his body.
Here many of the Persian chiefs perished, among
them two brothers of Xerxes. It was like a combat
of the Iliad rather than a contest in actual war.
Finally the Greeks, worn out, reduced in numbers,
their best weapons gone, fell back behind the wall,
bearing the body of their chief. Here they still
fought, with daggers, with their unarmed hands,
even with their mouths, until the last man fell dead.

The Thebans alone yielded themselves as prisoners,
saying that they had been kept in the pass against
their will. Of the thousand Spartans and Thespians,
not a man remained alive.

Meanwhile the fleets had been engaged, to the ad-
vantage of the Greeks, while another storm that

.suddenly rose wrecked two hundred more of the

Persian ships on Hubcea’s rocky coast. When word
came that Thermopyle had fallen the Grecian fleet
withdrew, sailed round the Attic coast, and stopped
not again until the island of Salamis was reached.

As for Leonidas and his Spartans, they had died,
but had won imperishable fame. The same should
be said for the Thespians as well, but history has
largely ignored their share in the glorious deed. In
after-days an inscription was set up which gave all
glory to the Peloponnesian heroes without a word
for the noble Thespian band. Another celebrated
inscription honored the Spartans alone:

“Go, stranger, and to Lacedemon tell
That here, obeying her behests, we fell,”’
HOW THE SPARTANS DIED AT THERMOPYLE. 153

or, in plain prose, “Stranger, tell the Lacedsemo-
nians that we lie here, in obedience to their orders.”
On the hillock where the last of the faithful band
died was erected a monument with a marble lion in
honor of Leonidas, while on it was carved the fol-
lowing epitaph, written by the poet Simonides:

“In dark Thermopyle they lie.
Oh, death of glory, thus to die!
Their tomb an altar is, their name
A mighty heritage of fame.
Their dirge is triumph; cankering rust,
And time, that turneth all to dust,
That tomb shall never waste nor hide,—
The tomb of warriors true and tried.
The full-voiced praise of Greece around
Lies buried in this sacred mound ;
‘Where Sparta’s king, Leonidas,
In death eternal glory has!”
£. HE WOODEN WALLS OF
ALHENS,

Tue slaughter of the defenders of Thermopyle
exposed Athens to the onslaught of the vast Persian
army, which would soon be on the soil of Attica.
A few days’ march would bring the invaders to its
capital city, which they would overwhelm as a flight
of locusts destroys a cultivated field. The states of
the Peloponnesus, with a selfish regard for their own
safety, had withdrawn all their soldiers within the
peninsula, and began hastily to build a wall across
the isthmus of Corinth with the hope of keeping
back the invading army. Athens was left to care
for itself. It was thus that Greece usually let itself
be devoured piecemeal.

There was but one thing for the Athenians to do,
to obey the oracle and fly from their native soil.
In a few days the Persians would be in Athens, and
there was not an hour to lose. The old men, the
women and children, with such property as could be
moved, were hastily taken on shipboard and carried
to Salamis, Aigina, Troezen, and other neighbaring
islands. The men of fighting age took to their ships
of war, to fight on the sea for what they had lost
on land. A few of the old and the poverty-stricken
remained, and took possession of the hill of the

154
THE WOODEN WALLS OF ATHENS. 155

Acropolis, whose wooden fence they fondly fancied
might be the wooden wall which the oracle had
meant. Apart from these few the city was de-
serted, and Athens had embarked upon the seas.
Not only Athens, but all Attica, was left desolate,
and in the whole state Xerxes made only five hundred
prisoners of war.

Onward came the great Persian host, destroying
all that could be destroyed on Attic soil, and sending
out detachments to ravage other parts of Greece.
The towns that submitted were spared. Those that
resisted, or whose inhabitants fled, were pillaged and
burnt. A body of troops was sent to plunder Delphi,
the reputed great wealth of whose temple promised
a rich reward. The story of what happened there
is a curious one, and well worth relating.

The frightened Delphians prepared to fly, but first
asked the oracle of Apollo whether they should take
with them the sacred treasures or bury them in
secret places. The oracle bade them not to touch
these treasures, saying that the god would protect
his own. With this admonition the people of Delphi
fled, sixty only of their number remaining to guard

. the holy shrine.

These faithful few were soon encouraged by a
prodigy. The sacred arms, kept in the temple’s
inmost cell, and which no mortal hand dared touch,
were seen lying before the temple door, as if Apollo
was prepared himself to use them. As the Persians
advanced by a rugged path under the steep cliffs of
Mount Parnassus, and reached the temple of Athené
Pronewa, a dreadful peal of thunder rolled above
156 HISTORICAL TALES.

their affrighted heads, and two great crags, torn
from the mountain’s flank, came rushing down with
deafening sound, and buried many of them beneath
their weight. At the same time, from the temple of
' Athené, came the Greek shout of war.

In a panic the invaders turned and fied, hotly
pursued by the few Delphians, and, so the story
goes, by two armed men of superhuman size, whose
destructive arms wrought dire havoc in the fleeing
host. And thus, as we are told, did the god preserve
his temple and his wealth.

But no god guarded the road to Athens, and at
length Xerxes and his army reached that city,—four
months after they had crossed the Hellespont. It
was an empty city they found. The few defenders
of the Acropolis—a craggy hill about one hundred
and fifty feet high—made a vigorous defence, for a
time keeping the whole Persian army at bay. But
some Persians crept up a steep and unguarded part
of the wall, entered the citadel, and soon all its de-
fenders were dead, and its temples and buildings in
flames.

While all this was going on, the Grecian fleet lay
but a few miles away, in the narrow strait between
the isle of Salamis and the Attic coast, occupying
the little bay before the town of Salamis, from which
narrow channels at each end led into the Bay of
Eleusis to the north and the open sea to the south.
In front rose the craggy heights of Mount Aigaleos,
over which, only five miles away, could be seen
ascending the lurid smoke of blazing Athens. It
was a spectacle calculated to infuriate the Athe-
THE WOODEN WALLS OF ATHENS. 157

nians, though not one to inspire them with courage
and hope.

The fleet of Greece consisted of three hundred and
sixty-six ships in all, of which Athens supplied two
hundred, while the remainder came in small numbers
from the various Grecian states. The Persian fleet,
despite its losses by storm, far outnumbered that
of Greece, and came sweeping down the Attic coast,
confident of victory, while the great army marched
southward over Attic land.

And now two councils of war were held,—one by
the Persian leaders, one by the Greeks. The fleet of
Xerxes, probably still a thousand ships strong, lay in
the Bay of Phalerum, a few miles from Athens; and
hither the king, having wrought his will on that
proud and insolent city, came to the coast to inspect
his ships of war and take counsel as to what should
next be done.

Here, before his royal throne, were seated the
kings of Tyre and Sidon, and the rulers of the many
other nations represented in his army. One by one
they were asked what should be done. “Fight,” was
the general reply ; “fight without delay.” Only one
voice gave different advice, that of Queen Artemisia
of Halicarnassus. She advised Xerxes to march to
the isthmus of Corinth, saying that then all the
ships of the Peloponnesus would fly to defend their
own homes, and the fleet of Greece would thus be dis-
persed. Xerxes heard her with calmness, but declined
to take her prudent advice. The voice of the others
and his own confidence prevailed, and orders were
given for the flect to make its attack the next day.

14
158 HISTORICAL TALES,

The almost unanimous decision of this council,
over which ruled the will of an autocratic king, was
very different from that which was reached by the
Greeks, in whose council all who spoke had equal
authority. The fleet had come to Salamis to aid the
flight of the Athenians. This done, it was necessary
to decide where it was best to meet the Persian
fleet. Only the Athenians, under the leadership of
Themistocles, favored remaining where they were.
The others perceived that if they were defeated
here, escape would be impossible. Most of them
wished to sail to the isthmus of Corinth, to aid the
land army of the Peloponnesians, while various other
plans were urged.

While the chiefs thus debated news came that
Athens and the Acropolis were in flames. At once
some of the captains left the council in alarm, and
began hastily to hoist sail for flight. Those that re-
mained voted to remove to the isthmus, but not to
start till the morning of the next day.

Themistocles, who had done his utmost to prevent
this fatal decision, which he knew would end in the
dispersal of the fleet and the triumph of Persia, re-
turned to his own ship sad of heart. Many of the
women and children of Athens were on the island
of Salamis, and if the fleet sailed they, too, must be
removed.

“What has the council decided?” asked his friend
Mnesiphilus.

Themistocles gloomily told him.

“This will be ruinous!” burst out Mnesiphilus.
“Soon there will be no allied fleet, nor any cause or
THE WOODEN WALLS OF ATHENS. 159

country to ‘fight for. You must have the council
meet again; this vote must be set aside; if it be
carried out the liberty of Greece is at an end.”

So strongly did he insist upon this that Themisto-
cles was inspired to make another effort. He went
at once to the ship of Eurybiades, the Spartan who
had been chosen admiral of the fleet, and represented
the case so earnestly to him that Eurybiades was
partly convinced, and consented to eall the council
together again.

Here Themistocles was so excitedly eager that he
sought to win the chiefs over to his views even be-
fore Eurybiades had formally opened the meeting
and explained its object. For this he was chided by
the Corinthian Adeimantus, who said,—

“Themistocles, those who in the public festivals
rise up before the proper signal are scourged.”

“True,” said Themistocles; “but those who lag
behind the signal win no crowns.”

When the debate was formally opened, Themisto-
cles was doubly urgent in his views, and continued
his arguments until Adeimantus burst out in a rage,
bidding him, a man who had no city, to be silent.

This attack drew a bitter answer from the insulted
Athenian. If he had no city, he said, he had around
him two hundred ships, with which he could win a
city and country better than Corinth. Then he
turned to Hurybiades, and said,—

“Tf you will stay and fight bravely here, all will be
well. If you refuse to stay, you will bring all Greece
to ruin. If you will not stay, we Athenians will
migrate with our ships and families. Then, chiefs,
160 HISTORICAL TALES.

when you lose an ally like us, you will remember
what I say, and regret what you have done.”

These words convinced Eurybiades. Without the
Athenian ships the fleet would indeed be powerless.
He asked for no vote, but gave the word that they
should stay and fight, and bade the captains to make
ready for battle. Thus it was that at dawn of day
the fleet, instead of being in full flight, remained
drawn up in battle array in the Bay of Salamis.
The Peloponnesian chiefs, however, were not con-
tent. They held a secret council, and resolved to
steal secretly away. This treacherous purpose came
to the ears of Themistocles, and to prevent it he took
a desperate course. He sent a secret message to
Xerxes, telling him that the Greek fleet was about
to fly, and that if he wished to capture it he must at
once close up both ends of the strait, so that flight
would be impossible.

He cunningly represented himself as a secret
friend of the Persian king, who lost no time in
taking the advice. When the next day’s dawn was
at hand the discontented chiefs were about to fly, as
they had secretly resolved, when a startling message
came to theirears. Aristides, a noble Athenian who
had been banished, but had now returned, came on
the fleet from Salamis and told them that only battle
was left, that the Persians had cooped them in like
birds in a cage, and that there was nothing to do but
to fight or surrender.

This disturbing message was not at first believed,
But it was quickly confirmed. Persian ships appeared
at both ends of the strait. Themistocles had won.
 

 

THE VICTORS AT SALAMIS.
THE WOODEN WALLS OF ATHENS. 161

Escape was impossible. They must do battle like
heroes or live as Persian slaves. There was but one de-
cision,—to fight. The dawn of day found the Greeks
actively preparing for the most famous naval battle
of ancient times.

The combat about to be fought had the largest
audience of any naval battle the world has ever
known. For the vast army of Persia was drawn
up as spectators on the verge of the narrow strait
which held the warring fleets, and Xerxes himself
sat on a lofty throne erected at a point which closely
overlooked the liquid plain. His presence, he felt
sure, would fill his seamen with valor, while by his
side stood scribes prepared to write down the names
alike of the valorous and the backward combatants.
On the other hand, the people of Athens and Attica
looked with hope and fear on the scene from the island
of Salamis. It was a unique preparation for a battle at
sea, such as was never known before or since that day.

The fleet of Persia outnumbered that of Greece
three toone. But the Persian seamen had been busy
all night long in carrying out the plan to entrap the
Greeks, and were weary with labor. The Greeks
had risen fresh and vigorous from their night's rest.
And different spirits animated the two hosts. The
Persians were moved solely by the desire for glory ;
the Greeks by the stern alternatives of victory,
slavery, or death. These differences in strength and
motive went far to negative the difference in num-
bers; and the Greeks, caught like lions in a snare,
dashed into the combat with the single feeling that
they must now fight or dic.

t 14*
162 HISTORICAL TALES,

History tells us that the Greeks hesitated at first ;
but soon the ship of Ameinias, an Athenian captain,
dashed against a Pheenician trireme with such fury
that the two became closely entangled. While their
crews fought vigorously with spear and javelin, other
ships from both sides dashed to their aid, and soon
numbers of the war triremes were fiercely engaged.

The battle that followed was hot and furious, the
ships becoming mingled in so confused a mass that
no eye could follow their evolutions. Soon the
waters of the Bay of Salamis ran red with blood.
Broken oars, fallen spars, shattered vessels, filled the
strait. Hundreds were hurled into the waters,—the
Persians, few of whom could swim, to sink; the
Greeks, who were skilful swimmers, to seek the shore
of Salamis or some friendly deck.

From the start the advantage lay with the Greeks.
The narrowness of the strait rendered the great num-
bers of the Persians of no avail. The superior disci-
pline of the Greeks gave them a further advantage.
The want of concert in the Persian allies was another
aid to the Greeks. They were ready to run one an-
other down in the wild desire to escape. Soon the
Persian fleet became a disorderly mass of flying
ships, the Greek fleet a well-ordered array of furious
pursuers. In panic the Persians fled; in exultation
the Greeks pursued. One trireme of Naxos captured
five Persian ships. A brother of Xerxes was slain by
an Athenian spear. Great numbers of distinguished
Persians and Medes shared his fate. Before the day
was old the battle on the Persian side had become a
frantic effort to escape, while some of the choicest
THE WOODEN WALLS OF ATHENS. 163

troops of Persia, who had been landed before the
battle on the island of Psyttaleia, were attacked by
Aristides at the head of an Athenian troop, and put
to death to a man.

The confident hope of victory with which Xerxes
saw the battle begin changed to wrath and terror
when he saw his ships in disorderly flight and the
Greeks in hot pursuit. The gallant behavior of
Queen Artemisia alone gave him satisfaction, and
when he saw her in the flight run into and sink an

‘ opposing vessel, he cried out, “ My men have become
women; and my women, men.” He was not aware
that the ship she had sunk, with all on board, was
one of his own fleet.

The mad flight of his ships utterly distracted the
mind of the faint-hearted king. His army still vastly
outnumbered that of Greece. With all its losses, his
fleet was still much the stronger. An ounce of cour-
age in his soul would have left Greece at his mercy.
But that was wanting, and in panic fear that the
Greeks would destroy the bridge over the Hellespont,
he ordered his fleet to hasten there to guard it, and
put his army in rapid retreat for the safe Asiatic
shores.

He had some reason to fear the loss of his bridge.
Themistocles and the Athenians had it in view to
hasten to the Hellespont and break it down. But
Kurybiades, the Spartan leader, opposed this, saying
that it was dangerous to keep Xerxes in Greece.
They had best give him every chance to fly.

Themistocles, who saw the wisdom of this advice,
not only accepted it, but sent a message to Kerxes—
164 HISTORICAL TALES.

as to a friend—advising him to make all haste, and
saying that he would do his best to hold back the
Greeks, who were eager to burn the bridge.

The frightened monarch was not slow in taking
this advice. Leaving a strong force in Greece, under
the command of his general Mardonius, he marched
with the speed of fear for the bridge. But he had
nearly exhausted the country of food in his advance,
and starvation and plague attended his retreat, many
of the men being obliged to eat leaves, grass, and the
bark of trees, and great numbers of them dying
before the Hellespont was reached.

Here he found the bridge gone. A storm had de-
stroyed it. He was forced to have his army taken
across in ships. Not till Asia Minor was reached
did the starving troops obtain sufficient food—and
there gorged themselves to such an extent that many
of them died from repletion. In the end Xerxes
entered Sardis with a broken army and a sad heart,
eight months after he had left it with the proud ex-
pectation of conquering the western world.
PLATAZAS FAMOUS DAY.

On a certain day, destined to be thereafter famous,
two strong armies faced each other on the plain
north of the little Beeotian town of Platewa. Greece
had gathered the greatest army it had ever yet put
into the field, in all numbering one hundred and ten
thousand men, of whom nearly forty thousand were
hoplites, or heavy-armed troops, the remainder light-
armed or unarmed. Of these Sparta supplied five
thousand hoplites and thirty-five thousand light-
armed Helots, the greatest army that warlike city had
ever brought into action. The remainder of Laconia
furnished five thousand hoplites and five thousand
Helot attendants. Athens sent eight thousand hop-
lites, and the remainder of the army came from
various states of Greece. This host was in strange
contrast to the few thousand warriors with which
Greece had met the vast array of Xerxes at Ther-
mopyle.

Opposed to this force was the army which Xerxes
had left behind him on his flight from Greece, three
hundred thousand of his choicest troops, under the
command of his trusted general Mardonius. This
host was not a mob of armed men, like that which
Xerxes had led. It embraced the best of the Persian

165
166 HISTORICAL TALES.

forces and Greek auxiliaries, and the hopes of Greece
still seemed but slight, thus outnumbered three to
one. But the Greeks fought for liberty, and were
inspired with the spirit of their recent victories ; the
Persians were disheartened and disunited: this dif-
ference of feeling went far to equalize the hosts.

And now, before bringing the waiting armies to
battle, we must tell what led to their meeting on the
Platwan plain. After the battle of Salamis a vote
was taken by the chiefs to decide who among them
should be awarded the prize of valor on that glorious
day. Hach cast two ballots, and when these were
counted each chief was found to have cast his first
vote for—himself! But the second votes were nearly
all for Themistocles, and all Greece hailed him as its
preserver. The Spartans crowned him with olive,
and presented him with a kingly chariot, and when
he left their city they escorted him with the honors
due to royalty.

Meanwhile Mardonius, who was wintering with his
army in Thessaly, sent to Athens to ask if its people
still proposed the madness of opposing the power of
Xerxes the king. “Yes,” was the answer; “while
the sun lights the sky we will never join in alliance
with barbarians against Greeks.”

On receiving this answer Mardonius broke up his
winter camp and marched again to Athens, which
he found once more empty of inhabitants. Its
people had withdrawn as before to Salamis, and left
the shell of their nation to the foe,

The Athenians sent for aid to Sparta, but the
people of that city, learning that Athens had defied
PLATA’S FAMOUS DAY. 167

Mardonius, selfishly withheld their asistance, and
the completion of the wall across the isthmus was
diligently pushed. Fortunately for Greece, this self-
ish policy came to a sudden end. “ What will your
wall be worth if Athens joins with Persia and gives
the foe the aid of her fleet?” was asked the Spartan
kings; and so abruptly did they change their opinion
that during that same night five thousand Spartan
hoplites, each man with seven Helot attendants,
marched for the isthmus, with Pausanias, a cousin
of Leonidas, the hero of Thermopyle, at their head.

On learning of this movement, Mardonius set fire
to what of Athens remained, and fell back on the
city of Thebes, in Boeotia, as a more favorable field
for the battle which now seemed sure to come.
Here his numerous cavalry could be brought into
play, the country was allied with him, the friendly
city of Thebes lay behind him, and food for his great
army was to be had. Here, then, he awaited the
coming of the Greeks, and built for his army a forti-
fied camp, surrounded with walls and towers of
wood.

Yet his men and officers alike lacked heart. Ata
splendid banquet given to Mardonius by the Thebans,
one of the Persians said to his Theban neighbor,—

“Seest thou these Persians here feasting, and the
army which we left yonder encamped near the river?
Yet a little while, and out of all these thou shalt
behold but a few surviving.”

“Tf you feel thus,” said the Theban, “thou art
surely bound to reveal it to Mardonius.”

“ My friend,’ answered the Persian, “ man cannot
168 HISTORICAL TALES.

avert what God has decreed. No one will believe
the revelation, sure though it be. Many of us Per-
sians know this well, and are here serving only under
the bond of necessity. And truly this is the most
hateful of all human sufferings, to be full of knowl-
edge, and at the same time to have no power over
any result.”

Not long had the lukewarm Persians to wait for
their foes. Soon the army of Greece appeared, and,
seeing their enemy encamped along the little river
Asopus in the plain, took post on the mountain de-
clivity above. Here they were not suffered to rest
in peace. The powerful Persian cavalry, led by
Masistius, the most distinguished officer in the army,
broke like a thunderbolt on the Grecian ranks. The
Athenians and Megarians met them, and a sharp
and doubtful contest ensued. At length Masistius
fell from his wounded horse and was slain as he lay
on the ground. The Persians fought with fury to
recover his body, but were finally driven back, leav-
ing the corpse of their general in the hands of the
Greeks.

This event had a great effect on both armies.
Grief assailed the army of Mardonius at the loss of
’ their favorite general. Loud wailings filled the camp,
and the hair of men, horses, and cattle was cut in
sign of mourning. The Greeks, on the contrary,
were full of joy. The body of Masistius, a man of
great stature, and clad in showy armor, was placed
in a cart and paraded around the camp, that all
might see it and rejoice. Such was their confidence
at this defeat of the cavalry, which they had sorely
PLATMA’S FAMOUS DAY. 169

feared, that Pausanias broke up his hill camp and
marched into the plain below, where he took station
in front of the Persian host, only the little stream
of the Asopus dividing the two hostile armies.

And here for days they lay, both sides offering
sacrifices, and both obtaining the same oracle,—that
the side which attacked would lose the battle, the
side which resisted would win. Under such circum-
stances neither side cared to attack, and for ten days
the armies lay, the Greeks much annoyed by the
Persian cavalry, and having their convoys of pro-
visions cut off, yet still waiting with unyielding faith
in the decision of the gods.

Mardonius at length grew impatient. He asked
his officers if they knew of any prophecy saying
that the Persians would be destroyed in Greece.
They were all silent, though many of them knew
of such prophecies.

“Since you either do not know or will not tell,”
he at length said, “I well know of one. There is an
oracle which declares that Persian invaders shall
plunder the temple of Delphi, and shall afterwards
all be destroyed. Now we shall not go against that
temple, so on that ground we shall not be destroyed.
Doubt not, then, but rejoice, for we shall get the
better of the Greeks.” And he gave orders to pre-
pare for battle on the morrow, without waiting
longer on the sacrifices.

That night Alexander of Macedon, who was in the
Persian army, rode up to the Greek outposts and
gave warning of the coming attack. “I am of
Greek descent,’ he said, “and ask you to free me

H 15
170 HISTORICAL TALES.

from the Persian yoke. I cannot endure to seo
Greece enslaved.”

During the night Pausanias withdrew his army
to a new position in front of the town of Plates,
water being wanting where they were. One Spar-
tan leader, indeed, refused to move, and when told
that there had been a general vote of the officers, he
picked up a huge stone and cast it at the feet of
Pausanias, crying, “This is my pebble. With it I
give my vote not to run away from the strangers.”

Dawn was at hand, and the Spartans still held
their ground, their leader disputing in vain with
the obstinate captain. At length he gave the order
to march, it being fatal to stay, since the rest of the
army had gone. Amompharetus, the obstinate cap-
tain, seeing that his general had really gone, now
lost his scruples and followed.

When day dawned the Persians saw with surprise
that their foes had disappeared. The Spartans alone,
detained by the obstinacy of Amompharetus, were
‘still in sight. Filled with extravagant confidence at
this seeming flight, Mardonius gave orders for hasty
pursuit, crying to a Greek ally, “There go your
boasted Spartans, showing, by a barefaced flight,
what they are really worth.”

Crossing the shallow stream, the Persians ran
after the Greeks at full speed, without a thought of
order or discipline. The foe seemed to them in full
retreat, and shouts of victory rang from their lips as
they rushed pell-mell across the plain.

The Spartans were quickly overtaken, and found
themselves hotly assailed. They sent in haste to
PLATAA’S FAMOUS DAY. 171

the Athenians for aid. The Athenians rushed for-
ward, but soon found themselves confronted by
the Greek allies of Persia, and with enough to do to
defend themselves. The remainder of the Greek
army had retreated to Plateea and took no. part in
the battle.

The Persians, thrusting the spiked extremities of
their long shields in the ground, formed a breast-
work from which they poured showers of arrows on
the Spartan ranks, by which many were wounded or
slain. Yet, despite their distress, Pausanias would
not give the order to charge. He was at the old
work again, offering sacrifices while his men fell
around him. The responses were unfavorable, and
he would not fight.

At length the victims showed favorable signs.
“Charge!” was the word. With the fury of un-
chained lions the impatient hoplites sprang forward,
and like an avalanche the serried Spartan line fell
on the foe.

Down went the breastwork of shields. Down
went hundreds of Persians before the close array
and the long spears of the Spartans. Broken and
disordered, the Persians fought bravely, doing their
utmost to get to close quarters with their foes.
Mardonius, mounted on a white horse, and attended
by a body-guard of a thousand select troops, was
among the foremost warriors, and his followers dis-
tinguished themselves by their courage.

At length the spear of Acimnestus, a distinguished
Spartan, brought Mardonius dead to the ground.
His guards fell in multitudes around his body. The
172 HISTORICAL TALES.

other Persians, worn out with the hopeless effort to
break the Spartan phalanx, and losing heart at the
death of their general, turned and fled to their forti-
fied camp. At the same time the Theban allies of
Persia, whom the Athenians had been fighting, gave
ground, and began a retreat, which was not ended
till they reached the walls of Thebes.

On rushed the victorious Spartans to the Persian
camp, which they at once assailed. Here they had
no success till the Athenians came to their aid, when
the walls were stormed and the defenders slain in
such hosts that, if we can believe Herodotus, only
three thousand out of the three hundred thousand of
the army of Mardonius remained alive. Itis true that
one body of forty thousand men, under Artabazus,
had been too late on the field to take part in the
fight. The Persians were already defeated when
these troops came in sight, and they turned and
marched away for the Hellespont, leaving the defeated
host to shift for itself Of the Greeks, Plutarch
tells us that the total loss in the battle was thirteen
hundred and sixty men.

The spoil found in the Persian camp was rich and
varied. It included money and ornaments of gold
and silver, carpets, splendid arms and clothing,
horses, camels, and other valuable materials. This
was divided among the victors, a tenth of the golden
spoil being reserved for the Delphian shrine, and
wrought into a golden tripod, which was placed on
a column formed of three twisted bronze serpents,
This defeat was the salvation of Greece. No Per-
sian army ever again set foot on European soil. And,
PLATZA’S FAMOUS DAY. 173

by a striking coincidence, on the same day that the
battle of Platea was fought, the Grecian fleet won a
brilliant victory at Mycale, in Asia Minor, and freed
the Ionian cities from Persian rule. In Greece,
Thebes was punished for aiding the Persians. By-
zantium (now Constantinople) was captured by Pau-
sanius, and the great cables of the bridge of Xerxes
were brought home in triumph by the Greeks.

We have but one more incident to tell. The war
tent of Xerxes had been left to Mardonius, and on
taking the Persian camp Pausanias saw it with its
colored hangings and its gold and silver adornments,
and gave orders to the cooks that they should pre-
pare him such a feast as they were used to do for
their lord. On seeing the splendid banquet, he
ordered that a Spartan supper should be prepared.
With a hearty laugh at the contrast he said to the
Greek leaders, for whom he had sent, ‘“ Behold, O
Greeks, the folly of this Median captain, who, when
he enjoyed such fare as this, must needs come here
to rob us of our penury.”

15*
FOUR FAMOUS MEN OF
ATHENS,

In the days of Croesus, the wealthiest of ancient
kings, a citizen of Athens, Alemxon by name, kindly
lent his aid to the messengers sent by the Lydian
monarch to consult the Delphian oracle, before his
war with King Cyrus of Persia, This generous aid
was richly rewarded by Creesus, who sent for Alc-
meon to visit him at Sardis, richly entertained him,
and when ready to depart made him a present of as
much gold as he could carry from the treasury.

This offer the visitor, who seemed to possess his fair
share of the perennial thirst for gold, determined to
make the most of. He went to the treasure-chamber
dressed in his loosest tunic and wearing on his feet
wide-legged buskins, both of which he filled bursting
full with gold. Not yet satisfied, he powdered his
hair thickly with gold-dust, and filled his mouth with
this precious but indigestible food. Thus laden, he
waddled as well as he could from the chamber, pre-
senting so ludicrous a spectacle that the good-
natured monarch burst into a loud laugh on seeing
him.

Creesus not only let him keep all he had taken,
but doubled its value by other presents, so that

174
FOUR FAMOUS MEN OF ATHENS. 175

Alemeon returned to Athens as one of its wealthiest
men, Megacles, the son of this rich Athenian, was
he who won the prize of fair Agaristé of Sicyon, in
the contest which we have elsewhere described. The
son of Megacles and Agaristé was named Cleisthenes,
and it is he who comes first in the list of famous
men whom we have here to describe.

It was Cleisthenes who made Attica a democratic
state; and thus it came about. The laws of Solon—
which favored the aristocracy—were set aside by
despots before Solon died. After Hippias, the last
of those despots, was expelled from the state, the
people rose under the leadership of Cleisthenes, and,
probably for the first time in the history of mankind,
a government “of the people, for the people, and
by the people” was established in a civilized state.
The laws of Solon were abrogated, and a new code
of laws formed by Cleisthenes, which lasted till the
independence of Athens came to an end.

Before that time the clan system had prevailed in
Greece. The people were divided into family groups,
each of which claimed to be descended from a single
ancestor,—often a supposed deity. These clans held
all the power of the state; not only in the early
days, when they formed the whole people, but later,
when Athens became a prosperous city with many
merchant ships, and when numerous strangers had
come from afar to settle within its walls.

None of these strangers were given the rights of
citizenship. The clans remained in power, and the
new people had no voice in the government. But
in time the strangers grew to be so numerous, rich,
176 HISTORICAL TALES.

and important that their claim to equal rights could
no longer be set aside. They took part in the revo-
lution by which the despots were expelled, and in
the new constitution that was formed their demand
to be made citizens of the state had to be granted.

Cleisthenes, the leader of the people against the
aristocratic faction, made this new code of laws. By
a system never before adopted he broke up the old
conditions. Before that time the people were the
basis on which governments were organized. He
made the land the basis, and from that time to this
land has continued the basis of political divisions.

Setting aside the old division of the Attic people
into tribes and clans, founded on birth or descent,
he separated the people into ten new tribes, founded
on land. Attica was divided by him into districts or
parishes, like modern townships and wards, which
were called Demes, and each tribe was made up of
several demes at a distance from each other. Every
man became a citizen of the deme in which he lived,
without regard to his clan, the new people were
made citizens, and thus every freeborn inhabitant of
Attica gained full rights of suffrage and citizenship,
and the old clan aristocracy was at an end. The
clans kept up their ancient organization and re-
ligious ceremonies, but they lost their political con-
trol. It must be said here, however, that many of
the people of Attica were slaves, and that the new
commonwealth of freemen was very far from in-
cluding the whole population.

One of the most curious of the new laws made by
Cleisthenes was that known as “ostracism,” by
FOUR FAMOUS MEN OF ATHENS. 177

which any citizen who showed himself dangerous to
the state could be banished for ten years if six thou-
sand votes were cast against him. This was in-
tended as a means of preventing the rise of future
despots.

The people of Athens developed wonderfully in
public spirit under their new constitution. Hach of
them had now become the equal politically of the
richest and noblest in the state, and all took a more
vital interest in their country than had ever been
felt before. It was this that made them so earnest
and patriotic in the Persian war. The poorest citi-
zen fought as bravely as the richest for the freedom
of his beloved state.

Hach tribe, under the new laws, chose its own war-
leader, or general, so that there were ten generals of
equal power, and in war each of these was given
command of the army for a day; and one of the
archons, or civil heads of the state, was made general
of the state, or war archon, so that there were eleven
generals in all.

The leading man in each tribe was usually chosen
its general, and of these we have the stories of three
to tell,—Miltiades, the hero of Marathon; Themis-
tocles, who saved Greece at Salamis; and Aristides,
known as “the Just.”

We have already told how two of these men
gained great glory. We have now to tell how they
gained great diserace. Ambition, the bane of the
leaders of states, led them both to ruin.

Miltiades was of noble birth, and succeeded his
uncle as ruler of the Chersonese country, in Thrace.

I.—m
178 HISTORICAL TALES.

Here he fell under the dominion of Persia, and here,
when Darius was in Scythia, he advised that the
bridge over the Danube should be destroyed. When
Darius returned Miltiades had to fly for his life. He
afterwards took part in the Ionic revolt, and cap-
tured from the Persians the islands of Lemnos and
Imbros. But when the Ionians were once more con-
quered Miltiades had again to fly for his life. Darius
hated him bitterly, and had given special orders for
his capture. He fled with five ships, and was pur-
sued so closely that one of them was taken. He
reached Athens in safety with the rest.

Not long afterwards Miltiades revenged himself
on Darius for this pursuit by his great victory at
Marathon, which for the time made him the idol of
the state and the most admired man in all Greece. ©

But the glory of Miltiades was quickly followed
by disgrace, and the end of his career was near at
hand. He was of the true soldierly temperament,
stirring, ambitious, not content to rest and rust, and
as a result his credit with the fickle Athenians
quickly disappeared. His head seems to have been
turned by his success, and he soon after asked for a
fleet of seventy ships of war, to be placed under his
command. He did not say where he proposed to
go, but stated only that whoever should come with
him would be rewarded plentifully with gold.

The victor at Marathon had but to ask to obtain.
The people put boundless confidence in him, and
gave him the fleet without a question. And the
golden prize promised brought him numbers of
eager volunteers, not one of whom knew where he
FOUR FAMOUS MEN OF ATHENS. 179

was going or what he was expected to do. Miltia-
des was in command, and where Miltiades chose to
lead who could hesitate to follow?

The purpose of the admiral of the fleet was soon
revealed. -He sailed to the island of Paros, besieged
the capital, and demanded a tribute of one hundred
talents. He based this claim on the pretence that
the Parians had furnished a ship to the Persian fleet,
but it is known that his real motive was hatred of a
citizen of Paros.

As it happened, the Parians were not the sort of
people to submit easily to a piratical demand. They
kept their foe amused by cunning diplomacy till
they had repaired the city walls, then openly defied
him to do his worst. Miltiades at once began the
assault, and kept it up for twenty-six days in vain.
The island was ravaged, but the town stood intact.
Despairing of winning by force, he next attempted
to win by fraud. A woman of Paros promised to
reveal to him a secret which would place the town in
his power, and induced him to visit her at night in a
temple to which only women were admitted. Milti-
ades accepted the offer, leaped over the outer fence,
and approached the temple. But at that moment a
panic of superstitious fear overcame him. Doubtless
fancying that the deity of the temple would punish
him terribly for this desecration, he ran away in the
wildest terror, and sprang back over the fence in such
haste that he badly sprained his thigh. In this state
he was found and carried on board ship, and, the
siege being raised, the fleet returned to Athens.

Here Miltiades found the late favor of the citizens
180 HISTORICAL TALES.

changed to violent indignation, in which his recent
followers took part. He was accused of deceiving
the people, and of committing a crime against the
state worthy of death. The dangerous condition of
his wound prevented him from saying a word in his
own defence. In truth, there was no defence to
make; the utmost his friends could do was to recall
his service at Marathon. No Athenian tribunal
could adjudge to death, however great the offence,
the conqueror of Lemnos and victor at Marathon.
But neither could forgiveness be adjudged, and Mil-
tiades was fined fifty talents, perhaps to repay the
city the expense of fitting out the fleet.

This fine he did not live to pay. His wounded
thigh mortified and he died, leaving his son Cimon
to pay the penalty incurred through his ambition
and personal grudge. Some writers say that he was
put in prison and died there, but this is not probable,
considering his disabled state.

Miltiades had belonged to the old order of things,
being a born aristocrat, and for a time a despot.
Themistocles and Aristides were children of the new
state, democrats born, and reared to the new order
of things. They were not the equals of Miltiades
in birth, both being born of parents of no distinc-
tion. But, aside from this similarity, they differed
essentially, alike in character and in their life records;
Themistocles being aspiring and ambitious, Aris-
tides, his political opponent, quiet and patriotic; the
one considering most largely his own advancement,
the other devoting his whole life to the good of his
native city.
FOUR FAMOUS MEN OF ATHENS. 181

Themistocles displayed his nature strongly while
still a boy. Idleness and play were not to his taste,
and no occasion was lost by him to improve his mind
and develop his powers in oratory. He cared nothing
for accomplishments, but gave ardent attention to
the philosophy and learning of his day. “It is true
I cannot play on a flute,or bring music from the
lute,” he afterwards said; “all I can do is, if a small
and obscure ‘city were put into my hands, to make it
great and glorious.” :

Of commanding figure, handsome face, keen eyes,
proud and erect posture, sprightly and intellectual
aspect, he was one to attract attention in any com-
munity, while his developed powers of oratory gave
him the greatest influence over the speech-loving
Athenians. In his eagerness to win distinction and
gain a high place in the state, he cared not what
enemies he might make so that he won a strong
party to his support. So great was his thirst for
distinction that the victory of Miltiades at Marathon
threw him into a state of great depression, in which
he said, “ The glory of Miltiades will not let me sleep.”

Themistocles was not alone ambitious and de-
clamatory. He was far-sighted as well; and through
his power of foreseeing the future he was enabled to
serve Athens even more signally than Miltiades had
done. Many there were who said that there was no
need to dread the Persians further, that the victory
at Marathon would end the war. “It is only the
beginning of the war,” said Themistocles; “new and
greater conflicts will come; if Athens is to be saved,
it must prepare.”

16
182 HISTORICAL TALES.

We have elsewhere told how he induced the
Athenians to build a fleet, and how this fleet, under
his shrewd management, defeated the great flotilla
of Xerxes and saved Greece from ruin and subjec-
tion. All that Themistocles did before and during
this war it is not necessary to state. It will suffice
here to say that he had no longer occasion to lose
sleep on account of the glory of Miltiades. He had
won a higher glory of his own; and’ in the end
ambition ruined him, as it had his great prede-
cessor.

To complete the tale of Themistocles we must
take up that of another of the heroes of Greece, the
Spartan Pausanias, the leader of the victorious army
at Platwa. He, too, allowed ambition to destroy
him. After taking the city of Byzantium, he fell in
love with Oriental luxury and grew to despise the
humble fare and rigid discipline of Sparta. He
offered to bring all Greece under the domain of
Persia if Xerxes would give him his daughter for
wife, and displayed such pompous folly and extrava-
gance that the Spartans ordered him home, where
he was tried for treason, but not condemned.

He afterwards conspired with some of the states
of Asia Minor, and when again brought home formed
@ plot with the Helots to overthrow the government.
His treason was discovered, and he fled to a temple
for safety, where he was kept till he starved to
death.

Thus ambition ended the careers of two of the
heroes of the Persian war. A third, Themistocles,
ended his career in similar disgrace. In fact, he
FOUR FAMOUS MEN OF ATHENS. 183

grew so arrogant and unjust that the people of
Athens found him unfit to live with. They sus-
pected him also of joining with Pausanias in his
schemes. So they banished him by ostracism, and
he went to Argos to live. While there it was proved
that he really had taken part in the treason of Pau-
sanias, and he was obliged to fly for his life.

The fugitive had many adventures in this flight.
He was pursued by envoys from Athens, and made
more than one narrow escape. While on shipboard
he was driven by storm to the island of Naxos, then
besieged by an Athenian fleet, and escaped only by
promising a large reward to the captain if he would
not land. Finally, after other adventures, he reached
Susa, the capital of Persia, where he found that
Xerxes was dead, and his son Artaxerxes was reign-
ing in his stead.

He was well received by the new king, to whom
he declared that be had been friendly to his father
Xerxes, and that he proposed now to use his powers
for the good of Persia. He formed schemes by
which Persia might conquer Greece, and gained
such favor with the new monarch that he gave him
a Persian wife and rich presents, sent him to Mag-
nesia, near the Ionian coast, and granted him the
revenues of the surrounding district. Here Themis-
tocles died, at the age of sixty-five, without having
kept one of his alluring promises to the Persian king.

And thus, through greed and ambition, the three
great leaders of Greece in the Persian war ended
their careers in disgrace and death. We have now
the story of a fourth great Athenian to tell, who
184 \HISTORICAL TALES.

through honor and virtue won a higher distinction
than the others had gained through warlike fame.

Throughout the whole career of the brilliant
Themistocles he -had a persistent opponent, Aris-
tides, a man, like him, born of undistinguished pa-
rents, but who by moral strength and innate power
of intellect won the esteem and admiration of his
fellow-citizens. He became the leader of the aristo-
cratic section of the people, as Themistocles did of
the: democratic, and for years the city was divided
between their adherents. But the brilliancy of
Themistocles was replaced in Aristides by a staid
and quiet disposition. He was natively austere,
taciturn, and deep-revolving, winning influence by
silent methods, and retaining it by the strictest
honor and justice and a hatred of all forms of false-
hood or political deceit.

For years these two men divided the political
power of Athens between them, until in the end
Aristides said that the city would have no peace
until it threw the pair of them into the pit kept for
condemned criminals. So just was Aristides that,
on one of his enemies being condemned by the court
without a hearing, he rose in his seat and begged
the court not to impose sentence without giving the
accused an opportunity for defence.

Aristides was one of the generals at Marathon,
and was left to guard the spoils on the field of battle
after the defeat of the Persians. At a later date, by
dint of false reports, Themistocles succeeded in
having him ostracized, obtaining the votes of the
rabble against him. One of these, not knowing
FOUR FAMOUS MEN OF ATHENS 185

Aristides, asked him to write his own name on the
tile used as a voting tablet. He did so, but first in-
quired, “Has Aristides done you aninjury?” “ No,”
was the answer; “I do not even know him, but I
am tired of hearing him always called ‘Aristides the
Just.” On leaving the city Aristides prayed that
the people should never have any occasion to regret
their action.

This occasion quickly came. In less than’ three
years he was recalled to aid his country in the Per-
sian invasion. Landing at Salamis, he served Athens
in the manner we have already told. The command
of the army which Aristides surrendered to Miltia-
des at the battle of Marathon fell to himself in the
battle of Plata, for on that great day he led the
Athenians and played an important part in the vic-
tory that followed. He commanded the Athenian
forces in a later war, and by his prudence and mild-
ness won for Athens the supremacy in the Greek
confederation that was afterwards formed.

At a later date, leader of the aristocrats as he was,
to avert a revolution he proposed a change in the
constitution that made Athens completely demo-
cratic, and enabled the lowliest citizen to rise to the
highest office of the state. In 468 n.c. died this great
and noble citizen of Athens, one of the most illus-
trious of ancient statesmen and patriots, and one of
the most virtuous public men of any age or nation.
He died so poor that it is said he did not leave
enough money to pay his funeral expenses, and for
several generations his descendants were kept at
the charge of the state.

16%
HOW ATHENS ROSE FROM ITS
ASHES.

Tue torch of Xerxes and Mardonius left Athens a
heap of ashes. But, like the new birth of the fabled
phoenix, there rose out of these ashes a city that be-
came the wonder of the world, and whose time-worn
ruins are still worshipped by the pilgrims of art.
We cannot proceed with our work without pausing
awhile to contemplate this remarkable spectacle.

The old Athens bore to the new much the same
relation that the chrysalis bears to the butterfly. It
was little more than an ordinary country town, the
capital of a district comparable in size to a modern
county. Pisistratus and his sons had built some
temples, and had completed a part of the Dionysiac
theatre, but the city itself was simply a cluster of
villages surrounded by a wall; while the citadel had
for defence nothing stronger than a wooden rampart.
The giving of this city to the torch was no serious
loss; in reality it was a gain, since it cleared the
ground for the far nobler city of later days.

It is not often that a whole nation removes from its
home, and its possessions are completely swept away.
But such had been the case with the Attic state.
For a time all Attica was afloat, the people of city
and country alike taking to their ships; while a

186
HOW ATHENS ROSE FROM ITS ASHES. 187

locust flight of Persians passed over their lands,
ravaging and destroying all before them, and leaving
nothing but the bare soil, Such was what remained
to the people of Attica on their return from Salamis
and the adjacent isles.

Athens lay before them a heap of ashes and ruin,
its walls flung down, its dwellings vanished, its gar-
dens destroyed, its temples burned. The city itself,
and the citadel and sacred structures of its Acropo-
lis, were swept away, and the business of life on that
ravaged soil had to be begun afresh.

Yet Attica as a state was greater than ever before.
It was a victor on land and sea, the recognized
savior of Greece; and the people of Athens re-
turned to the ashes of their city not in woe and dis-
may, but in pride and exultation. They were vic-
tors over the greatest empire then on the face of the
earth, the admired of the nations, the leading power
in Greece, and their small loss weighed but lightly
against their great glory.

The Athens that rose in place of the old city was
a marvel of beauty and art, adorned with hall and
temple, court and gymnasium, colonnade and theatre,
while under the active labors of its sculptors it be-
came so filled with marble inmates that they almost
equalled in numbers its living inhabitants. Such
sculptors as Phidias and such painters as Xeuxis
adorned the city with the noblest products of their
art. The great theatre of Dionysus was completed,
and to it was added a new one, called the Odeon,
for musical and poetical representations. On the
Acropolis rose the Parthenon, the splendid temple to
188 HISTORICAL TALES.

Minerva, or Athené, the patron goddess of the city,
whose ruins are still the greatest marvel of architec-
tural art. Other temples adorned the Acropolis, and
the costly Propylea, or portals, through which passed
the solemn processions on festival days, were erected
at the western side of the hill. The Acropolis was
further adorned with three splendid statues of
Minerva, all the work of Phidias, one of ivory in
the Parthenon, forty-seven feet high, the others of
bronze, one being of such colossal height that it
could be seen from afar by mariners at sea.

The city itself was built upon a scale to corre-
spond with this richness of architectural and artistic
adornment, and such was its encouragement to the
development of thought and art, that poets, artists,
and philosophers flocked thither from all quarters,
and for many years Athens stood before the world as
the focal point of the human intellect.

Not the least remarkable feature in this great
growth was the celerity with which it was achieved.
The period between the Persian and the Peloponne-
sian war was only sixty years in duration. Yet in
that brief space of time the great growth we have
chronicled took place, and the architectural splendor

. of the city was consummated. The devastation of the
unhappy Peloponnesian war put an end to this exter-
nal growth, and left the Athens of old frozen into
marble, a thing of beauty forever. But the intel-
lectual growth went on, and for centuries afterwards
Athens continued the centre of ancient thought.

And now the question in point is how all this came
about, and what made Athens great and glorious
HOW ATHENS ROSE FROM ITS ASHES. 189

among the cities of Greece. It all flowed naturally
from her eminence in the Persian war. During that
war there had been a league of the states of Greece,
with Sparta as its accepted leader. After the war
the need of being on the alert against Persia con-
tinued, and Greece became in great part divided into
two leagues,—one composed of Sparta and most of
the Peloponnesian states, the other of Athens, the
islands of the archipelago, and many of the towns of
Asia Minor and Thrace. This latter was called the
League of Delos, since its deputies met and its treasure
was kept in the temple of Apollo on that island.

This League of Delos developed in time to what
has been called the Athenian Empire, and in this
manner. Each city of the league pledged itself to
make an annual contribution of a certain number of
ships or a fixed sum of money, to be used in war
against Persia or for the defence of members of the
league. The amount assessed against each was fixed
by Aristides, in whose justice every one trusted. In
time the money payment was considered preferable to
that of ships, and most of the states of the league con-
tributed money, leaving Athens to provide the ficet.

In this way all the power fell into the hands of
Athens, and the other cities of the league became
virtually payers of tribute. This was shown later
on when some of the island cities declined to pay.
Athens sent a flect, made conquest of the islands,
and reduced them to the state of real tribute payers.
Thus the league began to change into an Athenian
dominion.

In 459 Bc. the treasure was removed from Delos
190 HISTORICAL TALES.

to Athens. And in the end Chios, Samos, and
Lesbos were the only free allies of Athens. All the
other members of the league had been reduced to
subjection. Several of the states of Greece also
became subject to Athens, and the Athenian Empire
grew into a wealthy, powerful, and extended state.

The treasure laid up at Athens in time became
great. The payments amounted to about six hun-
dred talents yearly, and at one time the treasury of
Athens held the great sum of nine thousand seven
hundred talents, equal to over eleven million dollars,
—a sum which meant far more then than the equiv-
alent amount would now.

It was this money that made Athens great. It
proved to be more than was necessary for defensive
war against Persia, or even for the aggressive war
which was carried on in Asia Minor and Egypt. It
also more than sufficed for sending out the colonies
which Athens founded in Italy and elsewhere. The
remainder of the fund was used in Athens, part of
it in building great structures and in producing splen-
did works of art, part for purposes of fortification.
The Pireus, the port of Athens, was surrounded by
strong walls, and a double wall—the famous “ Long
Walls”—was constructed from the city to the port, a
distance of four miles. These walls, some two hun-
dred yards apart, left a grand highway between, the
channel of a steady traffic which flowed from the
sea to the city, and which for years enabled Athens
to defy the cutting off its resources by attack from
without. Through this broad avenue not only pro-
visions and merchandise, but men in multitudes, made
 

A REUNION AT THE HOUSE OF ASPASIA.
HOW ATHENS ROSE FROM ITS ASHES, 191

their way into Athens, until that city became fuller
of bustle, energy, political and scholarly activity, and
incessant industry than any of the other cities of the
ancient world,

In a city like this, free and equal as were its citi-
zens, and democratic as were its institutions, some
men were sure to rise to the surface and gain con-
trolling influence. In the period in question there
were two such men, Cimon and Pericles, men of such
eminence that we cannot pass them by unconsidered.
Cimon was the son of Miltiades, the hero of Mara-
thon, and became the leader of aristocratic Athens,
Pericles was the great-grandson of Cleisthenes, the
democratic law-giver, and, though of the most aris-
tocratic descent, became the leader of the popular
party of his native city.

The struggle for precedence between these two men
resembled that between Themistocles and Aristides.
Cimon was a strong advocate of an alliance with
Sparta, which Pericles opposed. He was brilliant as
a soldier, gained important victories against Persia,
but was finally ostracized as a result of his friend-
ship for Sparta. He came back to Athens after-
wards, but his influence could not be regained.

It is, however, of Pericles that we desire particu-
larly to speak,—Pericles, who found Athens poor and
made her magnificent, found her weak and made
her glorious. This celebrated statesman had not the
dashing qualities of his rival. He was by nature
quiet but deep, serene but profound, the most elo-
quent orator of his day, and one of the most learned
and able of men. He was dignified and composed in
192 HISTORICAL TALES.

manner, possessed of a self-possession which no in-
terruption could destroy, and gifted with a luminous
intelligence that gave him a controlling influence over
the thoughtful and critical Athenians of his day.

Pericles was too wise and shrewd to keep himself
constantly before the people, or to haunt the assem-
bly. He sedulously remained in the background
until he had something of importance to say, but he
then delivered his message with a skill, force, and
animation that carried all his hearers irresistibly
away. His logic, wit, and sarcasm, his clear voice,
flashing eyes, and vigorous power of declamation,
used only when the occasion was important, gave
him in time almost absolute control in Athens, and
had he sought to make himself a despot he might
have done so with a word; but happily he was
honest and patriotic enough to content himself with
being the First Citizen of the State.

To make the people happy, and to keep Athens in
a condition of serene content, seem to have been
leading aims with Pericles. He entertained them
with quickly succeeding theatrical and other enter-
tainments, solemn banquets, splendid shows and pro-
cessions, and everything likely to add to their enjoy-
ment. Every year he sent out eighty galleys on a
six months’ cruise, filled with citizens who were to
learn the art of maritime war, and who were paid
for their services. The citizens were likewise paid
for attending the public assembly, and allowances
were made them for the time given to theatrical
representations, so that it has been said that Pericles
converted the sober and thrifty Athenians into an
HOW ATHENS ROSE FROM ITS ASHES. 193

idle, pleasure-loving, and extravagant populace. At
the same time, that things might be kept quiet in
Athens, the discontented overflow of the people were
sent out as colonists, to build up daughter cities of
Attica in many distant lands.

Thus it was that Athens developed from the quiet
country town of the old régime into the wealthiest,
gayest, and most progressive of Grecian cities, the
capital of an empire, the centre of a great com-
merce, and the home of a busy and thronging popu-
lace, among whom the ablest artists, poets, and phi-
losophers of that age of the world were included.
Here gathered the great writers of tragedy, begin-
ning with Alschylus, whose noble works were per-
formed at the expense of the state in the great open-
air theatre of Dionysus. Here the comedians, the
chief of whom was Aristophanes, moved hosts of
spectators to inextinguishable laughter. Here the
choicest lyric poets of Greece awoke admiration
with their unequalled songs, at their head the noble
Pindar, the laureate of the Olympic and Pythian
games. Tere the sophists and philosophers argued
and lectured, and Socrates walked like a king at the
head of the aristocracy of thought. Here the sculp-
tors, headed by Phidias, filled temples, porticos, col-
onnades, and public places with the most exquisite
creations in marble, and the painters with their
marvellous reproductions of nature. Here, indeed,
seemed gathered all that was best and worthiest in
art, entertainment, and thought, and for half a cen-
tury and more Athens remained a city without a
rival in the history of the world.

lL—I on 17
THE PLAGUE AT ATHENS.

Durina the period after the Persian war two
great powers arose in Greece, which were destined
to ‘come into close and virulent conflict. These
were the league of Delos, which developed into the
empire of Athens, and the Peloponnesian confeder-
acy, under the leadership of Sparta. The first of
these was mainly an island empire, the second a
mainland league; the first a group of democratic,
the second one of aristocratic, states; the first a
power with dominion over the seas, the second a
power whose strength lay in its army. Such were
the two rival confederacies into which Greece grad-
ually divided, and between which hostile sentiment
grew stronger year after year.

It became apparent as the years went on that a
struggle was coming for supremacy in Greece. Out-
breaks of active hostility between the rival powers
from time to time took place. At length the situa-
tion grew so strained that a general conflict began,
that devastating Peloponnesian war which for nearly
thirty years desolated Greece, and which ended in
the ruin of Athens, the home of poetry and art, and
the supremacy of Sparta, the native school of war.
The first great conflict of the Hellenic people, the

194
THE PLAGUE AT ATHENS. 195

Persian war, had made Greece powerful and glorious.
The second great conflict, the Peloponnesian war,
brought Greece to the verge of ruin, and destroyed
that Athenian supremacy in which lay the true path
of progress for that fair land.

In 431 B.c. the war broke out. Sparta and her
allies declared war against Athens on the ground
that that city was growing too great and grasp-
ing, and an army marched from the Peloponnesus
northward to invade the Attic state. Meanwhile
the Athenians, under the shrewd advice of Pericles,
adopted a wise policy. It was with her fleet that
Athens had defeated Persia, and her wise statesman
advised that she should devote herself to the do-
minion of the sea, and leave to Sparta that of the
land. Their walls would protect her people, their
ships would bring them food from afar, they were
not a fair match for Sparta on land, and could safely
leave to that city of warriors the temporary dominion
of Attic soil.

This advice was taken. When the Spartan army
came near Attica all its people left their fields and
homes and sought refuge, as once before, within the
walls of their capacious capital city. Over the
Attic plain marched the invaders, destroying the
summer crops, burning the farmers’ homesteads, yet
recoiling in helpless rage before those strong walls
behind which lay the whole population of the state.
From the city, as we know, long and high walls
stretched away tothe sea and invested the seaport
town of Pirsus, within whose harbor lay the power-
ful Athenian fleet. And in the treasury of the city
196 HISTORICAL TALES.

rested an abundant supply of money,—the sinews
of war,—with whose aid food and supplies could be
brought from over the seas. In vain, then, did
Sparta ravage the fields of Attica. The people of
that desolated realm defied them from behind their
city walls.

When winter came the invaders retired and the
farmers went back to their fields. In the spring
they ploughed and sowed as of yore, and watched in
hope the growing crops. But with the summer the
Spartans came again, to destroy their hopes of a
harvest, and the country people once more fled for
safety to their great city’s defiant walls.

It was a strange spectacle, that of a powerful in-
vading army wreaking their wrath year after year
on deserted fields, and gnashing their teeth in impo-
tent rage before lofty and well-defended walls and
ramparts, behind which lay their foes, little the
worse for all that their malice could perform.

Athens felt secure, and laughed her enemy to
scorn. Unhappily for her, a new enemy was at
hand, against whom the mightiest walls were of no
avail. Sparta gained an unthought-of ally, and
death stalked at large in the Athenian streets, silent
and implacable, without clash of weapon or shout of
war, yet more fatal and merciless than would have
been the strongest army in the field.

Athens was crowded. The country people filled
all available space. There was little attention to
drainage or sanitary regulations. An open invita-
tion was given to postilence, and the invited enemy
came. For some years before the plague had been
THE PLAGUE AT ATHENS. 197

at its deadly work in Egypt and Libya, and in parts
of Persian Asia. Then it made its appearance in
some of the Grecian islands. Finally its wings of
destruction were folded over Athens, and it settled
down in terrific form upon that devoted city.

The seeds of death found there fertile soil. Fami-
lies were crowded together in close cabins and tem-
porary shelters, to which they had been driven in
multitudes from their ravaged fields. The plague
first appeared in mid-April in the Pireeus,—brought,
perhaps, by merchant-ships,—but soon spread to
Athens, and as the heat of summer came on the in-
habitants of that thronged city fell victims to it in
appalling multitudes.

The plague, they called it. The disease seems to
have been something like the small-pox, though not
quite the same. Its victims were seized suddenly,
suffered the greatest agonies, and most of them died
on the seventh or the ninth day. Even when the
‘ patients recovered, some had lost their memory,
others the use of their eyes, hands, feet, or some
other member of the body. No remedy could be
found. The physicians died as rapidly as their pa-
tients. As for the charms and incantations which
many used, we can scarcely imagine that they saved
any lives. Some said that their enemies had poisoned
the water-cisterns, others that the gods were angry,
and vain processions were made to the temples, to
implore the mercy of the deities.

When nothing availed to stay the pestilence,
Athens fell into deep despondency and despair. The
sick lost courage, and lay down inertly to await

17*
198 HISTORICAL TALES,

death. Those who waited on the sick were them-
selves stricken down, and so great grew the terror
that the patients were deserted and left to die alone.
Fortunately the disease rarely attacked any one
twice, and those who had been sick and recovered
became the only nurses of the new victims of the
disease.

So dread became the pestilence that the dead and
the dying lay everywhere, in houses and streets, and
even in the temples; halfdead sufferers gathered
around the springs, tortured by violent thirst; the
very dogs that meddled with the corpses died of the
disease ; vultures and other carrion birds avoided the
city as if by instinct. Many bodies were burnt or
buried with unseemly haste, many doubtless left to
fester where they lay. Misery, terror, despair, over-
whelmed all within the walls, while the foe without
drew back in equal terror, lest the pestilence should
leap the walls and assail them in their camps.

Nor have we yet told all. Other evils followed
that of the plague. Law was forgotten, morality
ignored. Men hesitated not at crime or the indul-
gence of evil passions, having no fear of punishment.
Many gave themselves up to riot and luxurious
living, with the hope of snatching an interval of en-
joyment before yielding to death. The story we
here tell is no new one. It has been realized again
and again in the flight of the centuries, when pes-
tilence has made its home in some crowded city.
Human nature is everywhere the same, and the
bonds of law and morality are loosened when death

stalks abroad.
THE PLAGUE AT ATHENS. 199

For two years this dread calamity continued to
desolate Athens. Then, after a period of a year and
a half, it came again, and raged for another year as
furiously as before. The losses were frightful. Of
the armed men of the state nearly five thousand
were swept away. Of the poorer people the loss
was beyond computation. Nothing the human
enemy was capable of could have done so much to
ruin Athens as this frightful visitation, and to the
end of the war that city felt its weakening effects.

But perhaps the greatest of the losses of Athens
was the death of Pericles, not by the pestilence, but
from a different disease. In him Athens lost its
wisest man and ablest statesman. The strong hand
which had so long held the rudder of the state was
gone, and the subsequent misfortunes of Athens
were due more to the loss of this wise counsellor
than to the efforts of her foes.
THE ENVOVS OF LIFE AND
DEATH:

Near the coast of Asia Minor lies the beautiful
island of Lesbos, the birthplace of the poets Sappho,
Alceus, and Terpander, and of other famous writers
and sages of the past. Here were green valleys and
verdure-clad mountains, here charming rural scenes
and richly-yielding fields, here all that seems neces-
sary to make life serene and happy. But here also
dwelt uneasy man, and hither came devastating war,
bringing with it the shadow of a frightful tragedy
from which the people of Lesbos barely escaped.

Lesbos was one of the islands that entered into
alliance with Athens, and formed part of the empire
that arose from the league of Delos. In 428 Buc.
this island, and its capital, Mitylene, revolted from
Athens, and struck for the freedom they had formerly
enjoyed. Mitylene had never become tributary to
- Athens. It was simply an ally; and it retained its
ficet, its walls, and its government; its only obliga-
tions being those common to all members of the
league.

Yet even these seemed to have been galling to the
proud Mitylenians. Athens was then at war with
Sparta. It seemed a good time to throw off all
bonds, and the political leaders of the Lesbians de-

200
THE ENVOYS OF LIFE AND DEATH. 201

clared themselves absolved from all allegiance to the
league.

The news greatly disturbed the Athenians. They
had their hands full of war. But Mitylene had
asked aid from Sparta, and unless brought under
subjection to Athens it would become an ally of her
enemy. No time was therefore to be lost. A fleet
was sent in haste to the revolted city, hoping to take
it by surprise. This failing, the city was blockaded
by sea and land, and the siege kept up until starva-
tion threatened the people within the walls. Until
now hope of Spartan aid had been entertained. But
the Spartans came not, the provisions were gone,
death or surrender became inevitable, and the city
was given up. About a thousand prisoners were
sent to Athens, and Mitylene was held till the pleas-
ure of its conquerors should be known.

This pleasure was a tragic one. The Athenians
were deeply incensed against Mitylene, and full of
thirst for revenge. Their anger was increased by the
violent speeches of Cleon, a new political leader who
had recently risen from among the ranks of trade,
and whose virulent tongue gave him controlling in-
fluence over the Athenians at that period of public
wrath. When the fate of Mitylene and its people was
considered by the Athenian assembly this demagogue
took the lead in the discussion, wrought the people
up to the most violent passion by his acrimonious
tongue, and proposed that the whole male popula-
tion of the conquered city should be put to death,
and the women and children sold as slaves. This
frightful sentence was in accord with the fecling of
202 HISTORICAL TALES.

the assembly. They voted death to all Mitylenians
old enough to bear arms, and a trireme was sent to
Lesbos, bearing orders to the Athenian admiral to
carry this tr peal decision into effect.

Slaughter i this would to-day expose its authors
to the universal execration of mankind. In those
days it was not uncommon, and the quality of mercy
was sadly wanting in the human heart. Yet such
cruelty was hardly in accord with the advanced civ-
ilization of Athens, and when the members of the
assembly descended to the streets, and their anger
somewhat cooled, it began to appear to them that
they had sent forth a decree of frightful cruelty.
Even the captain and seamen of the trireme that
was sent with the order to Mitylene left the port
with heavy hearts, and would have gladly welcomed
a recall. But the assembly of Athens was the ruling
power and from its decision there was no appeal.

Though it was illegal, the friends of Mitylene
called a fresh meeting of the assembly for the next
day. In this they were supported by the people,
whose feeling had quickly and greatly changed.
Yet at this new meeting it appeared at first as if
Cleon would again win a fatal verdict, so vigorously
did he again seek to stir up the public wrath. Diod-
otus, his opponent, followed with a strong appeal for
mercy, and while willing that the leaders of the re-
volt, who had been sent to Athens, should be put to
death, argued strongly in favor of pardoning the
rest. When at length the assembly voted, mercy
prevailed, but by so small a majority that for a time
the decision was in doubt.
THE ENVOYS OF LIFE AND DEATH. 203

And now came a vital question. The trireme
bearing the fatal order had left port twenty-four
hours before. It was now far at sea, carrying its
message of cold-blooded slaughter. Could it pos-
sibly be overtaken and the message of mercy made
to fly more swiftly across the sea than that of
death? As may well be imagined, no time was lost.
A second trireme was got ready with all haste, and
amply provisioned by the envoys from Mitylene then
in Athens, those envoys promising large rewards to
the crew if they should arrive in time.

The offers of reward were not needed. The sea-
men were as eager as those of the former trireme
had been despondent. Across the sea rushed the
trireme, with such speed as trireme never made
before nor since. By good fortune the sea was
calm; no storm arose to thwart the rowers’ good
intent; not for an instant were their oars relaxed ;
they took turns for short intervals of rest, while
barley-meal, steeped in wine and oil, was served to
them for refreshment upon their seats.

Yet they strove against fearful odds. A start of
twenty-four hours, upon so brief a journey, was
almost fatal. Fortunately, the rowers of the first
trireme had no spirit for their work. They were as
slow and dilatory as the others were eager and per-
sistent. And thus time moved slowly on, and the
fate of Mitylene hung desperately in the balance.
An hour more or less in this vital journey would
make or mar a frightful episode in the history of
mankind.

Fortune proved to be on the side of mercy. The
204 HISTORICAL TALES.

envoys of life were in time; but barely in time.
Those who bore the message of death had reached
port and placed their dread order in the hands of
the Athenian commander, and he was already taking
steps for the fearful massacre, when the second tri-
reme dashed into the waters of that island harbor,
and the cheers of exultation of its rowers met the
ears of the imperilled populace.

So near was Mitylene to destruction that the
breaking of an oar would have been enough to
doom six thousand men to death. So near as this
was Athens to winning the execration of mankind,
by the perpetration of an enormity which barbarians
might safely have performed, but for which Athens
could never have been forgiven. The thousand pris-
oners sent to Athens—the leading spirits of the re-
volt—were, it is true, put to death, but this merci-
less cruelty, as it would be deemed to-day, has been
condoned in view of the far greater slaughter of the
innocent from which Athens so narrowly escaped.
THE DEFENCE OF PLATA.

At the foot of Mount Citheron, one of the most
beautiful of the mountains of Greece, winds the
small river Asopus, and between, on a slope of the
mountain, may to-day be seen the ruins of Plata,
one of the most memorable of the cities of ancient
Greece. This city had its day of glory and its day
of woe. Here, in the year 479 B.c., was fought that
famous battle which drove the Persians forever from
Greece. And here Pausanias declared that the terri-
tory on which the battle was fought should forever
be sacred ground to all of Grecian birth. Forever
is seldom a very long word in human history. In
this case it lasted just fifty years.

War had broken out between Sparta and its allies
and Athens and its dominion, and all Greece was in
turmoil. Of the two leading cities of Boeotia, The-
bes was an ally of the Lacedemonians, Platwa of
the Athenians. The war broke out by an attack of
the Thebans upon Platea. Two years afterwards,
in the year 429 s.c., Archidamus, the Spartan king,
led his whole force against this ally of Athens. In
his army marched the Thebans, men of a city but
two hours’ journey from Plata, and citizens of the
same state, yct its bitterest foes. The Plateans were
summoned to surrender, to consent to remain neutral,

18 205
206 HISTORICAL TALES.

or to leave their city and go where they would; all
of which alternatives they declined. Thereupon the
Spartan force invested the city, and prepared to take
it by dint of arms. And thus Sparta kept the pledge
of Platewan sacredness made by her king Pausanias
half a century before.

Platewa was a small place, probably not very
strongly fortified, and contained a garrison of only
four hundred and eighty men, of whom eighty were
Athenians. Fortunately, all the women and children
had been sent to Athens, the only women remaining
in the town being about a hundred slaves, who
served as cooks. Around this small place gathered
the entire army of Sparta and her allies, a force
against which it seemed as if the few defenders could
not hold out a week. But these faithful few were
brave and resolute, and for a year and more they
defied every effort of their foes.

The story of this siege is of interest as showing how
the ancients assailed a fortified town. Defences
which in our times would not stand a day, in those
times took months and years to overcome. The
army of Sparta, defied by the brave garrison, at first
took steps to enclose the town. If the defenders
would not let them in, they would not let the de-
fenders out. They laid waste the cultivated land,
cut down the fruit-trees, and used these to build a
strong palisade around the entire city, with the de-
termination that not a Platsan should escape. This
done, they began to erect a great mound of wood,
stones, and earth against the city wall, forming an
inclined plane up which they proposed to rush and
THE DEFENCE OF PLATA. 207

take the city by assault. The sides of this mound
were enclosed by cross-beams of wood, so as to hold
its materials in place.

For seventy days and nights the whole army
worked busily at this sloping mound, and at the end
of this time it had reached nearly the height of the
wall. But the Plateans had not been idle while
their foes were thus at work. They raised the height
of their old wall at this point by an additional wall
of wood, backed up by brickwork, which they tore
down houses to obtain. In front of this they sus-
pended hides, so as to prevent fire-bearing arrows
from setting the wood on fire. Then they made a
hole through the lower part of the town wall, and
through it pulled the earth from the bottom of the
mound, so that the top fell in.

The besiegers now let down quantities of stiff
clay rolled up in wattled reeds, which could not be
thus pulled away. Yet their mound continued to
sink, in spite of the new materials they heaped on
top, and they could not tell why. In fact, the
Plateans had dug an underground passage from
within the town, and through this carried away the
foundations of the mound. And thus for more than
two months the besiegers built and the garrison de-
stroyed their works.

Not content with this, the Platewans built a new
portion of wall within the town, joining the old
wall on both sides of the mound, so that if the
besiegers should complete their mound and rush up
it in assault, they would find a new wall staring them
in the face, and all their labor lost.
208 HISTORICAL TALES.

This was not all that was done. Battering engines
were used against the walls to break them down.
These the defenders caught by long ropes, pulling
the heads of the engines upward or sideways. They
also fixed heavy wooden beams in such a manner
that when the head of an engine came near the wall
they could drop a beam suddenly upon it, and break
off its projecting beak.

In these rude ways the attack and defence went
on, until three months had passed, and Archidamus
and his army found themselves where they had
begun, and the garrison still safe and defiant. The
besiegers next tried to destroy the town by fire.
From the top of the mound they hurled fagots as
far as they could within the walls. They then threw
in pitch and other quick-burning material, and finally
set the whole on fire. In a brief time the flames
burst out hotly, and burnt with so fierce a conflagra-
tion that the whole town was in imminent danger
of destruction. Nothing could have saved it had the
wind favored the flames. There is a story also that
a thunder-storm came up to extinguish the fire,—but
such opportune rains seem somewhat too common in
ancient history. As it was, part of the town was
destroyed, but the most of it remained, and the
brave inmates continued defiant of their foes.

Archidamus was almost in despair. Was this
small town, with its few hundred men, to defy and
defeat his large army? He had tried the various
ancient ways of attack in vain. The Spartans, with
all their prowess in the field, lacked skill in the
assault of walled towns, and were rarely success-
THE DEFENCE OF PLATA. 209

ful in the art of siege. The Platwans had proved
more than their match, and there only remained to
be tried the wearisome and costly process of block-
ade and famine.

‘etermined that Platea should not escape, this
plan was in the end adopted, and a wall built round
the entire city, to prevent escape or the entrance of
aid from without. In fact, two walls were built, six-
teen feet apart, and these were covered in on top, so
that they looked, like one very thick wall. There
were also two ditches, from which the bricks of the
wall had been dug, one on the inside, and one with-
out to prevent relief by a foreign force. The
covered space within the walls served as quarters for
the troops left on guard, its top as a convenient place
for sentry duty. This done the main army marched
away. It needed no great host to keep the few
Platesans within their walls until they should con-
sume all their food and yield to famine, a slower but
more irresistible foe than all the Lacedemonian
power.

Fortunately for the besieged, they were well pro-
visioned, and for more than a year remained in peace
within their city, not attacked by their foes and
receiving no aid from friends. Besides the eighty
Athenians within the walls no help came to the
Platwzans during the long siege. At length pro-
visions began to fail. It was evident that they must
die like rats in a cage, surrender to their foes, or
make a desperate break for freedom.

The last expedient was proposed by their general.
It was daring, and seemed desperate, to seek to

I.—o 18*
210 HISTORICAL TALES.

escape over the blockading wall with its armed
guards. So desperate did it appear that half the
garrison feared to attempt it, deeming that it would
end in certain death. The other half, more than two
hundred in number, decided that it was better to
dare death in the ficld than to meet death in the
streets.

The wall was furnished with frequent battlements
and occasional towers, and its whole circuit was kept
under watch day and night. But as time went on
the besiegers grew more lax in discipline, and on wet
nights sought the shelter of the towers, leaving the
spaces between without guards. This left a chance
for escape which the Platzans determined to em-
brace.

By counting the layers of bricks in the blockading
wall they were able to estimate its height, and pre-
pared ladders long enough to reach its top. Then
they waited for a suitable time. At length it came,
a cold, dark, stormy December night, with a roaring
wind, and showers of rain and sleet.

The shivering guards cowered within their shelter-
ing towers. Out from their gates marched the
Plateans, lightly armed, and, to avoid any sound,
with the right foot naked. The left was shod, that
it might have firmer hold on the muddy ground.
Moving with the wind in their faces, and so far apart
that their arms could not strike and clatter, they
reached and crossed the ditch and lifted their ladders
against the wall. Hleven men, armed only with
sword and breastplate, mounted first. Others bear-
ing spears followed, leaving their shields for their
THE DEFENCE OF PLATAIA, 211

comrades below to carry up and hand tothem. This
first company was to attack and master the two
towers right and left. This they did, surprising and
slaying the guards without the alarm having spread.
Then the others rapidly mounted the wall.

At this critical moment one of them struck a loose
tile with his foot and sent it clattering down the
wall. This unlucky accident gave the alarm. In
an instant shouts came from the towers and the gar-
rison below sprang to arms and hurried to the top
of the wall. But they knew not where to seek the
foe, and their perplexity was increased by the garri-
son within the city, which made a false attack on the
other side.

Not knowing what to do or where to go the
blockaders remained at their posts, except a body of
three hundred men, who were kept in readiness to
patrol the outside of the outer ditch. Fire-signals
were raised to warn their allies in Thebes, but the
garrison in the town also kindled fire-signals so as to
destroy the meaning of those of the besiegers.

Meanwhile the escaping warriors were actively
engaged. Some held with spear and javelin the
towers they had captured. Others drew up the
ladders and planted them against the outer wall.
Then down the ladders they hurried, waded across the
outer ditch, and reached level ground beyond. Each
man, as he gained this space, stood ready with his
weapons. to repel assault from without. When all
the others were down, the men who had held the
towers fled to the ladders and safely descended.

Tho outer ditch was nearly full of water from the
212 HISTORICAL TALES.

rain and covered with thin ice. Yet they scrambled
through at, and when the three hundred of the outer
guard approached with torches, they suddenly found
themselves assailed with arrows and javelins from a
foe invisible in the darkness.. They were thus kept
back till the last Platesan had crossed the ditch, when
the bold fugitives marched speedily away, leaving
but one of their number a prisoner in the hands of
the foe.

They first marched towards Thebes, while their
pursuers took the opposite direction. Then they
turned, struck eastward, entered the mountains, and
finally—two hundred and twelve in number—made
their way safely to Athens, to tell their families and.
aNies the thrilling story of their escape.

A few who lost. heart returned from the inner wall
to the town, and told those within that the whole
band had perished. The truth was only learned
within the town when on the next morning a herald
was sent out to solicit a truce for burial of the dead
bodies. The herald brought back the glad tidings
that there were no.dead to bury, that the whole bold
band had escaped.

Happy had it been for the remaining garrison had
they also fled, even at the risk of death. With the
provisions left they held out till the next summer,
when they were forced to yield. In the end, after
the form of a trial, they were all slaughtered by their
foes, and the city itself was razed to the ground by
its Theban enemies, only the Hereum, or temple of
Here, being left. Such was the fate of a city to
which eternal sacredness had been pledged.
a
si IE

tas

 

PIRAEUS, THE PORT OF ATHENS.
‘HOW THE LONG WALLS WENT
DOWN.

Tue retreat of the Persians from Athens left that
city without a wall or a home. On the return of
the Athenians, and the rebuilding of their ruined
homes, a new wall became a necessity, and, under
the wise advice of Themistocles, the citizens deter-
mined that the new wall should be much larger in
circuit than the old,—wide enough to hold all Attica
in case of war.

But no sooner was this begun than a protest arose
from rival states. The Spartans in particular raised
such a clamor on the subject that Themistocles went
to that city and denied that he was fortifying
Athens. If they did not believe him, they might
send there and see. They did so, and the Spartan
ambassadors, on arriving there, found the walls com-
pleted and themselves held as hostages for the safe
return of Themistocles. Not only Athens was thus
fortified, but a still stronger wall was built around
Pirzeus, the port, four miles away.

Years afterwards, when Athens was in a position
to defy the protest of Sparta, her famous Long
Walls were built, extending from the city to the
port, and forming a great artery through which the
food and products brought in ships from distant

lands could flow to the city from the sea, in defiance
213
214. HISTORICAL TALES.

of foes. These walls it was that enabled Athens to
survive and flourish when all the soil of Attica lay
in the hands of the Spartan enemy. But the time
came when these walls were to fall, and Athens to
lic helpless in the hands of her mortal foe.

The Peloponnesian war was full of incident, vic-
tories and defeats, marches and countermarches,
making and breaking of truces, loss of provinces
and fleets, triumphs of one side and the other, and
still the years rolled on, and neither party became
supreme. Athens had its ill-advisers, who kept it
at war when it could have won far more by con-
cluding peace, and who induced it to forget the
advice of Pericles and make war on land when its
great strength lay in its fleet.

Its great error, however, was an attempt at foreign
conquest, when it had quite enough to occupy it at
home. War broke out between Athens and Sicily,
and a strong fleet was sent to blockade and seek to
capture the city of Syracuse. This expedition
fatally sapped the strength of the Athenian empire.
Ships and men were supplied in profusion to take
part in a series of military blunders, of which the
last were irreparable. The fleet, with all on board,
was finally blocked up in the harbor of Syracuse,
defeated in battle, and forced to yield, while of forty
thousand Athenian troops but a miserable remnant
survived to end their lives as slaves in Syracusan
quarries. It was a disaster such as Athens in its
whole career had not endured, and whose conse-
quences were inevitable. From that time on the
supremacy of Athens was at an end.
HOW THE LONG WALLS WENT DOWN. 215

Yet for nine years more the war continued, with
much the same succession of varying events as
before. But during this period Sparta was learning
an important lesson. If she would defeat Athens, she
must learn how to win victories on sea as well as on
land. After every defeat of a fleet she built and
equipped another, and gradually grew stronger in
ships, and her seamen more skilful and expert, until
the old difference between Athenian and Spartan
seamen ceased to exist. Persia also came to the aid
of Sparta, supplied her with money, and enabled her
to replace her lost ships with ever new ones, while
the ship-building power of Athens declined.

In 405 z.c. the crisis came. Athens was forced to
depend solely for subsistence on her fleet. That
gone, all would be gone. In the autumn of that
year she had a fleet of one hundred and eighty
triremes in the Hellespont, in the close vicinity of a
Spartan ficet of about the same force, under an able
admiral named Lysander. A gospotami, or Goat’s
River (a name of fatal sound to all later Athenians),
was the station of the Athenian fleet. That of
Sparta lay opposite, across the strait, nearly two
miles away.

And now an interesting scene began. Every day
the Athenian fleet crossed the strait and offered
battle to the Spartans, daring them to come out
from their sheltered position. And every day, when
the Spartans had refused, it would go back to the
opposite shore, where many of the men were per-
mitted to land. Day by day this challenge was re-
peated, the Athenians growing daily more confident
216 HISTORICAL TALES.

and more careless, and the crews dispersing in search
of food or amusement as soon as they reached the
shore. Lysander, meanwhile, fox-like, was on the
watch. A scout-ship followed the enemy daily. At
length, on the fifth day, when the Athenian ships
had anchored, and the sailors had, as usual, dis-
persed, the scout-ship hoisted a bright shield as a
signal. In an instant the fleet of Lysander, which
was all ready, dashed out of its harbor, and rowed
with the utmost speed across the strait. The Athe-
nian commanders, perceiving too late their mistake,
did their utmost to recall the scattered crews, but in
vain. The Spartan ships dashed in among those of
Athens, found some of them entirely deserted, others
nearly so, and wrought with such energy that of the
whole fleet only twelve ships escaped. Nearly all
the men ashore were also taken, while this great
victory was won not only without the loss of a ship,
but hardly of a man.” The prisoners, three or four
thousand in number, in the cruel manner of the time,
were put to death.

-This defeat, so disgraceful to the Athenian com-
manders, so complete and thorough, was a death-
blow to the dominion of Athens. That city was left
at the mercy of its foes. When news of the dis-
aster reached the city, such a night of wailing and
woe, of fear and misery, came upon the Athenians
as few cities had ever before gone through. Their
fleet gone, all was gone. On it depended their food.
Their land-supplies had long been cut off. No corn-
ships could now reach them from the Euxine Sea,
and few from other quarters. They might fight
HOW THE LONG WALLS WENT DOWN. 217

still, but the end was sure. The victor at Salamis
would soon be a prisoner within her own walls.

Lysander was in no hurry to sail to Athens. That
city could wait. He employed himself in visiting
the islands and cities in alliance with or dependent
upon Athens, and inducing them to ally themselves
with Sparta. The Athenian garrisons were sent
home. Lysander shrewdly calculated that the more
men the walls of Athens held, the sooner must their
food-supply be exhausted and the end come. At
length, in November of 405 3.c., Lysander sailed
with his fleet to Pireus and blockaded its harbor,
while the land army of the Peloponnesus marched
into Attica and encamped at the gates of Athens.

That great and proud city was now peopled with
despair. The plague which had desolated it twenty-
five years before now threatened to be succeeded by
a still more fatal plague, that of famine. Yet pride
and resolution remained. The walls had been
strengthened; their defenders could hold out while
any food was left; not until men actually began to
die of hunger did they ask for peace.

The envoys sent to Sparta were refused a hearing.
Athens wished to preserve her walls. Sparta sent
word that there could be no peace until the Long
Walls were levelled with the earth. These terms
Athens proudly refused. Suffering and privation
went on.

For three months longer the siege continued.
Though famine dwelt within every house, and num-
bers died of starvation, the Athenians held out with
heroic endurance, and refused to surrender on hu-

x 19
218 HISTORICAL TALES.

miliating terms. But there could be only one end.
Where famine commands man must obey. Peace
must be had at any price, or death would end all,
and an envoy was sent out with power to make
peace on any terms he could obtain.

It was pitiable that glorious Athens should be
brought to this sad pass. She was so cordially
hated by many of the states of Greece that they
voted for her annihilation, demanding that the en-
tire population should be sold as slaves, and the city
and the very name of Athens be utterly swept from
the earth.

At this dread moment the greatest foe of Athens
became almost her only friend. Sparta declared that
she would never consent to such a fate for the city
which had been the savior of Greece in the Persian
war. In the end peace was offered on the following
terms: The Long Walls and the defences of Pireeus
should be destroyed; the Athenians should give up
all foreign possessions and confine themselves to
Attica; they should surrender all their ships-of-war ;
they should admit all their exiles; they should be-
come allies of Sparta, be friends of her friends and
foes of her foes, and follow her leadership on sea
and land.

When the envoy, bearing this ultimatum, returned
to Athens, a pitiable spectacle met his eyes. A de-
spairing crowd faced him with beseeching eyes, in
terror lest he brought only a message of death or
despair. Thousands there were who could not meet
him, victims of the increasing famine. Peace at any
price had become a valued boon. Nevertheless, when
HOW THE LONG WALLS WENT DOWN. 219

the terms were read in the assembly, there were
those there who would have refused them, and who
preferred death by starvation to such disgrace. The
great majority, however, voted to accept them, and
word was sent to Lysander that Athens yielded to
the inevitable,

And now into the harbor of the Pireus sailed the
triumphant Lacedemonian fleet, just twenty-seven
years after the war had begun. With them came the
Athenian exiles, some of whom had served with their
city’s foes. The ships building in the dock-yards were
burned and the arsenals ruined, there being left to
Athens only twelve ships-of-war. And then, amid
the joyful shouts of the conquerors, to the music of
flutes played by women and the sportive movements
of dancers crowned with wreaths, the Long Walls of
Athens began to fall.

The conquerors themselves lent a hand to this
work at first, but its completion was left to the
Athenians, who with sore hearts and bowed heads
for many days worked at the demolition of what so
long had been their city’s strength and pride.

What followed may be briefly told. Athens had,
some time before, fallen under the power of a Com-
mittee of Four Hundred, aristocrats who overthrew
the constitution and reigned supreme until the people
rose in their might and brought their despotism to
an end. Now anew oligarchy, called “The Thirty,”
and mostly composed of the returned exiles, came
into despotic power, and the ancient constitution
was once more ignored.

The reign of The Thirty was one of blood, confis-
220 HISTORICAL TALES.

cation, and death. Supported by a Spartan garrison,
they tyrannized at their own cruel will, murdering,
confiscating, exiling, until they converted Athens
into a prototype of Paris during the French Revo-
lution.

At length the saturnalia of crime came to an end.
Even the enemies of Athens began to pity her sad
state. Those who had been exiled by these new
tyrants returned to Attica, and war between them
and The Thirty began. In the end Sparta withdrew
her support from the tyrants, those of them who
had not perished fied, and after nearly a year of
terrible anarchy the democracy of Athens was re-
stored, and peace once more spread its wings over
that frightfully afflicted city.

We may conclude this tale with an episode that
took place eleven years after the Long Walls had
fallen. As they had gone down to music, they rose
to music again. In these eleven years despotic
Sparta had lost many of her allies, and the Persians,
who had become friends of Athens, now lent a fleet
and supplied money to aid in rebuilding the walls.
Some even of those who had danced for joy when
the walls went down now gave their cheerful aid to
raise them up again, so greatly had Spartan tyranny
changed the tide of feeling. The completion of the
walls was celebrated by a splendid sacrifice and fes-
tival banquet, and joy came back to Athens again.
A new era had begun for the city, not one of do-
minion and empire, but one marked by some share
of her old dignity and importance in Greece.
SOCRATES AND ALCIBIADES.

During the period of the Peloponnesian war two
men became strikingly prominent in Athens, a states-
man and a philosopher, as unlike each other in char-
acter, appearance, aims, and methods as two persons
could well be, yet the most intimate of friends, and
long dividing between them the admiration of the
Athenians. These were the historically famous
Alcibiades and Socrates. Alcibiades was a leader
in action, Socrates a leader in thought; thus they
controlled the two great dominions of human affairs.

Of these two, Socrates was vastly the nobler and
higher; Alcibiades much the most specious and pop-
ular. Democratic Athens was never long without
its aristocratic leader. For many years it had been
Pericles. It now became Alcibiades, a man whose
career and character were much more like those of
Themistocles of old than of the sedate and patriotic
Pericles.

Alcibiades was the Adonis of Athens, noted for
his. beauty, the charm of his manner, his winning
personality, qualities which made all men his willing
prisoners. He was of high birth, great wealth, and
luxurious and pleasure-loving disposition, yet with a
remarkable power of accommodating himself to cir-

19", 221
222 HISTORICAL TALES.

cumstances, and becoming all things to all men.
While numbers of high-born Athenians admired him
for his extraordinary beauty of person, Socrates saw
in him admirable qualities of mind, and loved him
with a warm affection, which Alcibiades as warmly
returned. The philosopher gained the greatest in-
fluence over his youthful friend, taught him to de-
spise affectation and revere virtue, and did much to
develop in him noble qualities of thought and aspira-
tion.

Yet nature had made Alcibiades, and nature’s
work is hard to undo. He was a man of hasty
impulse and violent temper, a man destitute of the
spirit of patriotism, and in very great measure it
was to this brilliant son of Athens that that city
owed its lamentable fate.

No greater contrast could be imagined than was
shown by these almost inseparable friends. Alcibia-
des was tall, shapely, remarkably handsome, fond
of showy attire and luxurious surroundings, full of
animal spirits, rapid and animated in speech, and
aristocratic in sentiment; Socrates short, thick-sct,
remarkably ugly, careless in attire, destitute of all
courtly graces, democratic in the highest degree, and
despising utterly those arts and aims, loves and lux-
uries, which appealed so strongly to the soul of his
ardent friend. Yet the genius, the intellectual acute-
ness, the lofty aims, and wonderful conversational
power of Socrates overcame all his natural defects,
attracted Alcibiades irresistibly, and welded the two
together in an intellectual sympathy that set aside
all differences of form and character.
SOCRATES AND ALCIBIADES. 223

The philosopher and the politician owed to each
other their lives. They served as soldiers together
at Potidea, lodged in the same tent, and stood side
by sidein the ranks. Alcibiades was wounded in the
battle, but was defended and rescued by his friend,
who afterwards persuaded the generals to award to
him the prize for valor. Later, at the battle of
Delium, Alcibiades protected and saved Socrates.
These personal services brought them into still
closer relations, while their friendship was perhaps
the stronger from their almost complete diversity
of character.

Unluckily for Athens, Socrates was not able to in-
stil strong principles of virtue into the mind of the
versatile Alcibiades. This ardent pleasure lover was
moved by ambition, desire of admiration, love of
display, and fondness for luxurious living, and in-
dulged in excesses that it was not easy for the more
frugal citizens to forgive. He sent seven chariots to
the Olympic Games, from which he carried off the
first, second, and fourth prizes. He gave splendid
shows, distributed money freely, and in spite of his
wanton follies retained numbers of friends among
the Athenian people.

It was to this engaging and ambitious politician
that the ruinous Sicilian expedition was due. He
persuaded the Athenians to engage in it, in spite of
wiser advice, and was one of those placed in com-
mand, But the night before the fleet set sail a
dreadful sacrilege took place. All the statues of the
god Hermes in the city were mutilated by unknown
parties,—an outrage which caused almost a panic
224 HISTORICAL TALES.

among the superstitious people. Among those ac-
cused of this sacrilege was Alcibiades. There was
no evidence against him, and he was permitted to
proceed. But after he had reached Sicily he was
sent for to return, on a new charge of sacrilege. He
refused to do so, fearing the schemes of his enemies,
and, when told that the assembly had voted sentence
of death against him, he said, bitterly, “I will make
them feel that I live!”

_ He did so. To him Athens was indebted for the
ruin of its costly expedition. He fled to Sparta and
advised the Spartans to send to Syracuse the able
general to whom the Athenians owed their fatal de-
feat. He also advised his new friends to seize and
fortify a town in Attica. By this they cut off all
the land supply of food from Athens, and did much
to force the final submission of that city.

Alcibiades now put on a new guise. He affected
to be enraptured with Spartan manners, cropped his
hair, lived on black broth, exercised diligently, and
by his fiuent tongue made himself a favorite in that
austere city. But at length, by an idle boast, he
roused Spartan enmity, and had to fly again. Now
he sought Asia Minor, became a friend of Tissapher-
nes, the Persian satrap, adopted the excesses of
Persian luxury, and sought to break the alliance
between Persia and Sparta, which he had before
sustained.

Next, moved by a desire to see his old home, he
offered the leading citizens of Athens to induce Tis-
saphernes to come to their aid, on the condition that
he might be permitted to return. But he declared
SOCRATES AND ALCIBIADES. 225

that he would not come while the democracy was in
power, and it was by his influence that the tyrannical
Committee of Four Hundred was formed. After-
wards, falling out with these tyrants, Alcibiades
turned democrat again, was made admiral of the
fleet, and wrought the ruin of the oligarchy which
he had raised to power.

And now this brilliant and fickle son of Athens
worked as actively and ably for his native city as he
had before sought her ruin. Under his command
the fleet gained several important victories, and con-
quered Byzantium and other cities. The ruinous de-
feat at Agospotami would not have occurred had the
admiral of the fleet listened to his timely warning,
After the fall of Athens, and during the tyranny
of the Thirty, he retired to Asia Minor, where he
was honorably received by the satrap Pharnabazus.
And here the end came to his versatile career. One
night the house in which he slept was surrounded
by a body of armed men and set on fire. He rushed
out, sword in hand, but a shower of darts and arrows
quickly robbed him of life. Through whose enmity
he died is not known. Thus perished, at less than
fifty years of age, one of the most brilliant and able
of all the Athenians,—one who, had he lived, would
doubtless have added fresh and striking chapters to
the history of his native land, though whether to
her advantage or injury cannot now be told.

The career of Socrates was wonderfully different
from that of his brilliant but unprincipled friend.
While Alcibiades was seeking to dazzle and control,
Socrates was secking to convince and improve man-

I.—p
226 HISTORICAL TALES.

kind. A striking picture is given us of the physical
qualities of this great moral philosopher. His ugli-
ness of face was matter of jest in Athens. He had
the flat nose, thick lips, and prominent eyes of a
satyr. Yet he was as strong as he was ugly. Few
Athenians could equal him in endurance. While
serving as a soldier, he was able to endure heat and
cold, hunger and fatigue, in a manner that astonished
his companions. He went barefoot in all weather,
and wore the same clothing winter and summer.
His diet was of the simplest, but in religious festi-
vals, when all were expected to indulge, Socrates
could drink more wine than any person present,
without a sign of intoxication. Yet it was his con-
stant aim to limit his wants and to avoid all excess.

To these qualities of body Socrates added the
highest and noblest qualities of mind. Naturally
he had a violent temper, but he held it under severe
control, though he could not always avoid a display
of anger under circumstances of great provocation.
But his depth of thought, his remarkable powers of
argument, his earnest desire for human amendment,
his incessant moral lessons to the Athenians, place
him in the very first rank of the teachers of man-
kind.

Socrates was of humble birth. He was born 469
B.c. and lived for seventy years. His father was a
sculptor, and he followed the same profession, He
married, and his wife Xanthippe has become famous
for the acidity of her temper. There is little doubt
that Socrates, whose life was spent in arguing and
conversing, and who paid little attention to filling
SOCRATES AND ALCIBIADES. 227

the larder, gave the poor housewife abundant provo-
cation. We know very little about the events of
his life, except that he served as a soldier in threé
campaigns, that he strictly obeyed the laws, per-
formed all his religious duties, and once, when act-
ing as judge, refused, at the peril of his life, to per-
form an unjust action.

Of the daily life of Socrates we have graphic
pictures, drawn by his friends and followers Xeno-
phon and Plato. From morning to night he might
be seen in the streets and public places, engaged in
endless talk,—prattling, his enemies called it. Inthe
early morning, his sturdy figure, shabbily dressed,
and his pale and ill-featured face, were familiar
visions in the public walks, the gymnasia, and the
schools. At the hour when the market-place was
most crowded, Socrates would be there, walking
about among the booths and tables, and talking to
every one whom he could induce to listen. Thus
was his whole day spent. He was ready to talk
with any one, old or young, rich or poor, being in
no sense a respecter of persons. He conversed with
artisans, philosophers, students, soldiers, politicians,
—all classes of men. He visited everywhere, was
known to all persons of distinction, and was a special
friend of Aspasia, the brilliant woman companion
of Pericles.

His conversational powers must have been ex-
traordinary, for none seemed to tire of hearing him,
and many sought him in his haunts, eager to hear
his engaging and instructive talk. Many, indeed,
in his later years, came from other cities of Greece,
228 HISTORICAL TALES,

drawn to Athens by his fame, and anxious to hear
this wonderful conversationalist and teacher. These
became known as his scholars or disciples, though he
claimed nothing resembling a school, and received no
reward for his teachings.

The talk of Socrates was: never idle or meaning-
less chat. He felt that he had a special mission to
fulfil, that in a sense he was an envoy to man from
the gods, and declared that, from childhood on, a
divine voice had spoken to him, unheard by others,
warning and restraining him from unwise acts or say-
ings. It forbade him to enter public life, controlled
him day by day, and was frequently mentioned by
him to his disciples. This guardian voice has become
known as the demon or genius of Socrates.

The oracle at Delphi said that no man was wiser
than Socrates. To learn if this was true and he
really was wiser than other men, he questioned
everybody everywhere, seeking to learn what they
knew, and leading them on by question after ques-
tion till he usually found that they knew very little
of what they professed.

As to what Socrates taught, we can only say here
that he was the first great ethical philosopher. The
philosophers before him had sought to explain the
mystery of the universe. He declared that all this
was useless and profitless. Man’s mind was superior
to all matter, and he led men to look within, study
their own souls, consider the question of human duty,
the obligations of man to man, and all that leads
towards virtue and the moral development of human
society.
SOCRATES AND ALCIBIADES. 229

It is not surprising that Xanthippe scolded her
idle husband, who supplied so much food for the
souls of others, but quite ignored the demands of
food for the bodies of his wife and children. His
teachings were but vaporing talk to her small mind
and to those of many of the people. And the keen
questions with which he convicted so many of igno-
rance, and the sarcastic irony with which he wounded
their self-love, certainly did not make him friends
among this class. In truth, he made many enemies.
One of these was Aristophanes, the dramatist, who
wrote a comedy in which he sought to make Socrates
ridiculous. This turned many of the audiences at the
theatres against him.

All this went on until the year 399 B.c., when some
of his enemies accused him of impiety, declaring
that he did not worship the old gods, but introduced
new ones and corrupted the minds of the young.
“The penalty due,” they said, “is death.”

It had taken them some thirty years to find this
out, for Socrates had been teaching the same things
for that length of time. In fact, no ancient city but
Athens would have listened to his radical talk for so
many years without some such charge. But he had
now so many enemies that the accusation was dan-
gerous. He made it worse by his carelessness in his
defence. He said things that provoked his judges.
He could have been acquitted if he wished, for in the
final vote only a majority of five or six out of nearly
six hundred brought him in guilty.

Socrates seemingly did not care what verdict they
brought. He had no fear of death, and would not

20
230 HISTORICAL TALES.

trouble himself to say a word to preserve his life.
The divine voice, he declared, would not permit him.
He was sentenced to drink the poison of hemlock,
and was imprisoned for thirty days, during which
he conversed in his old calm manner with his
friends.

Some of his disciples arranged a plan for his
escape, but he refused to fly. If his fellow-citizens
wished to take his life he would not oppose their
wills. On the lust day he drank the hemlock as
calmly as though it were his usual beverage, and
talked on quietly till death sealed his tongue.

Thus died the first and one of the greatest of
ethical philosophers, and a man without a parallel in
all the history of mankind, Greece produced none
like him, and this homely and humble personage, ~
who wrote not a line, has had a more powerful and
lasting effect upon mankind than all the host of
illustrious writers who have made famous the Hel-
lenic lands.
THE RETREAT OF THE TEN
THOUSAND.

We have now to tell of one of the most remark-
able events in Grecian history, to describe how ten
thousand Greeks, who found themselves in the heart
of the great Persian empire, without a leader and
almost without food, marched through the land of
their foes, over rugged mountains swarming with
enemies, and across lofty plains covered deep with
snow, until finally they reached once more their
native land. Xenophon, their chosen leader, has
told the story of this wonderful march in a book
called the “ Anabasis,” and from. this book we take
what we have here to say.

First, how came these Greeks so far away from
their home and friends? We have told elsewhere
how the Persians several times invaded Greece, We
have now to tell how the Greeks first invaded Persia.
It happened many years afterwards. The Persian
king Xerxes had long since been dead, and succeeded
by his son Artaxerxes, who reigned over Persia for
nearly forty years. Then came Darius Nothus,
whose reign lasted nineteen years, This king had
two sons, Artaxerxes and Cyrus. On his death he
bequeathed the throne to Artaxerxes, while Cyrus

was left satrap of a large province in Asia Minor.
231
232 HISTORICAL TALES.

Of these two sons, the new king was timid and
incompetent; Cyrus was remarkably shrewd and
able, and was filled with a consuming ambition. He
wanted the Persian throne and knew the best means
of obtaining it. He was well aware of the military
ability of the Greeks. It was he who supplied the
money which enabled Sparta to overthrow Athens.
He now secretly enlisted a body of about thirteen
thousand Greeks, promising them high pay if they
would enter his service; and with these, and one
hundred thousand Asiatics, he marched against his
brother.

But Cyrus was too shrewd to let his purpose be
known. He gave out that he was going to put down
some brigand mountaineers. Then when he had got
his army far eastward, he threw off the mask and
started on the long march across the desert to Baby-
lonia. The Greeks had been deceived. At first they
refused to follow him on so perilous an errand, and
to such a distance from home. But by liberal
promises he overcame their objections, and they
marched on till the heart of Babylonia was reached.

The army was now in the wonderfully fertile
country between the rivers Euphrates and Tigris,
that rich Mesopotamian region which had been part
of the Persian empire since the great cities of
Nineveh and Babylon were taken by the Persians
a century before. And in all this long march no
enemy had been met. But now Cyrus and his
followers found themselves suddenly confronted by
a great Persian army, led by Artaxerxes, the king,

First a great cloud of white dust was seen in the
THE RETREAT OF THE TEN THOUSAND. 233

distance. Then under it appeared on the earth a
broad dark spot, which widened and deepened as it
came nearer, until at length armor began to shine
and spear-heads to glitter, and dense masses of troops
appeared beneath the cloud. Here were great troops
of cavalry, wearing white cuirasses; here a vast ar-
ray of bowmen with wicker shields, spiked so that
they could thrust their points into the ground and
send their arrows from behind them; there a dark
mass of Egyptian infantry, with long wooden shields
that covered the whole body; in front of all was a
row of chariots, with scythes stretching outward
from the wheels, so as to mow down the ranks
through which they were driven.

These scythed chariots faced the Greeks, whose
ranks they were intended to break. But when the
battle-shout was given, and the dense mass of Greeks
rushed forward at a rapid pace, the Persians before
them broke into a sudden panic and fled, the drivers
of the chariots leaping wildly to the ground and join-
ing in the flight. The horses, left to themselves,
and scared by the tumult, rushed in all directions,
many of them hurtling with their scythed chariots
through the flying host, others coming against the
Greeks, who opened their ranks to let them pass.
In that part of the field the battle was won without
a blow being struck or a man killed. The very
presence of the Greeks had brought victory.

The great Persian army would soon have been all
in flight but for an unlooked-for event. Artaxerxes,
in the centre of his army, was surrounded by a body-
guard of six thousand horse, Against these Cyrus,

20*
234 HISTORICAL TALES.

followed by six hundred horse, made an impetuous
charge. So fierce was the onset that the body-guard
were soon in full flight, Cyrus killing their general
with hisown hand. The six hundred hotly pursued
their flying foe, leaving Cyrus almost alone. And
now before him appeared his brother Artaxerxes,
exposed by the flight of his guard.

Between these two men brotherly affection did
not exist. They viewed each other as bitter enemies.
So fiercely did Cyrus hate his brother that on seeing
him he burst into a paroxysm of rage which robbed
him of all the prudence and judgment he had so far
shown. “I see the man!” he cried in tones of fury,
and rushed hotly forward, followed only by the few
companions who remained with him, against Arta-
xerxes and the strong force still with him. As Cyrus
came near the king he cast his javelin so truly, and
with such force, that it pierced the cuirass of Ar-
taxerxes, and wounded him in the breast. Yet the
assault of Cyrus was a mad one, and it met the end
of madness. He was struck below the eye by a
javelin, hurled from his horse and instantly slain ;
his few followers quickly sharing his fate.

The head and right hand of the slain prince were
immediately cut off and held up to the view of all
within sight, and the contest was proclaimed at an
end. The Asiatic army of Cyrus, on learning of the
fatal disaster, turned and fled. The Greeks held
their own and repulsed all that came against them, in
ignorance of the death of Cyrus, of which they did
not hear till the next morning. The news then filled
them with sorrow and dismay.
THE RETREAT OF THE TEN THOUSAND. 235

What followed must be briefly told. The position
of the Greeks, much more than a thousand miles
from their country, in the heart of an empire filled
with foes, and in the presence of a vast hostile army,
seemed hopeless. Yet they refused to surrender at
the demand of the king. They were victors, not
defeated men; why should they surrender? “If
the king wants our arms, let him come and try to
take them,” they said. “Our arms are all the
treasure we have left; we shall not be fools enough
to hand them over to you, but shall use them to fight
for your treasure.”

This challenge. King Artaxerxes showed no in-
clination to accept. Both he and his army feared
the Greeks. As for the latter, they immediately
began their retreat. They could not go back over
the desert by which they had come, that was impos-
sible; they therefore chose a longer road, but with
more chance of food, leading up the left bank of the
Tigris River and proceeding to the Huxine, or Black
Sea. It was in dread and hopelessness that the soli-
tary band began this long and perilous march,
through a country of which they knew nothing.
amid hosts of foes, and with the winter at hand.
But they were soon to experience a new misfortune
and be left in a still more hopeless state.

Their boldness had so intimidated King Artaxerxes
that he sent heralds to them to treat for a truce.
“Go tell the king,” their general replied, “that our
first business must be to fight. We have nothing to
eat, and no man should talk to Greeks about a truce
without first providing them with a dinner.” -
236 HISTORICAL TALES.

The result of this bold answer was that food was
provided, a truce declared, and Tissaphernes, a Per-
sian satrap, with a body of troops, undertook to
conduct the Greeks out of the country. Crossing
the Tigris, they marched for fifteen days up its east
side, until the Great Zab River, in the country of
Media, was reached. Here the treachery which Tis-
saphernes had all along intended was consummmated.
He invited Clearchus, the Greek leader, and the other
generals to a conference with him in his tent,—three
miles from their camp. They incautiously accepted,
and on arriving there were immediately seized, the
captains and soldiers who had accompanied them
cut down, and the generals sent in chains to the
king, who ordered them all to be put to death,

This loss of their leaders threw the Greeks into
despair. Ruin appeared inevitable. In the midst
of a hostile country, more than a thousand miles
from Grecian soil, surrounded by enemies, blocked up
by deep rivers and almost impassable mountains,
without guides, without provisions, without cavalry,
without generals to give orders, what were they to
do? A stupor of helplessness seized upon them.
Few came to the evening muster; few lighted fires
to cook their suppers; every man lay down to rest
where he was; yet fear, anguish, and yearning for
home drove sleep from every eye. The expectation
of the Persians that they would now surrender
seemed likely to be realized, for without a guiding
head and hand there seemed to many of the dis-
heartened host nothing else to do.

Yet they were not all in that mood. One among
THE RETREAT OF THE TEN THOUSAND. 237

them, a volunteer, with no rank in the army, but
with ample courage, brought back by brave words
hope to their souls. This man, an Athenian, Xeno-
phon by name, and one of the disciples of Socrates
the philosopher, had an encouraging dream in the
night, and at once rose, called into council the
captains of the host, and advised them to select new
generals to take the place of the four who had been
seized. This was done, Xenophon, being one of the
new leaders. At daybreak the army was called
together, told what had been done in the night, and
asked to confirm the action of their captains. This
they did.

Xenophon, the orator of the army, now made
them a stirring speech. He told them that they
need not fear the Persians, who were cowards and
traitors, as they knew. If provisions were no longer
furnished them, they could take them for themselves.
If rivers were to be crossed, they could march up
their course and wade them where not deep. “ Let
us burn our baggage-wagons and tents, and carry
only what is strictly needful. Above all, let us main-
tain discipline and obedience to commanders. Now
is the time for action. If any man has anything
better to suggest, let him state it. We all have but
one object,—the common safety.” (

No one had anything better to suggest; the army
enthusiastically accepted Xenophon’s plan of action,
and soon they were on the march again, with Tissa-
phernes, their late guide, now their open foe. They
marched in a hollow oblong body, with the baggage
in the centre. Here also walked the women, of
238 HISTORICAL TALES.

whom many had accompanied the army through all
its career.

Crossing the Great Zab River, the Greeks con-
tinued their march, though surrounded by enemies,
many of them horsemen, who cast javelins and
arrows into their ranks, and fled when pursued.
That night they reached some villages, bearing their
wounded, who were many, and deeply discouraged.
During the night the Greeks organized a small body
of cavalry and two hundred Rhodian slingers, who
threw leaden bullets instead of stones. The next day
they were attacked by a body of four thousand confi-
dent Persians, who expected an easy victory. Yet
when the few horsemen and slingers of the Greeks
attacked them they fled in dismay, and many of
them were killed in a ravine which they were forced
to traverse.

On went the fugitives, day by day, still assailed,
still repelling their foes. On the fifth day they saw
a palace, around which lay many villages. To reach
it they had high hills to pass, and here their enemies
appeared on the summits, showering down arrows,
darts, and stones. The Greeks finally dislodged
them by mounting to higher points, and by night
had fought their way to the villages, where they
found abundance of food and wine, and where they
rested for three days.

On starting again the troops of Tissapbhernes an-
noyed them as before. They now adopted a new
plan. Whenever the enemy came up they halted at
some village and fought them from their camp.
Each night the Persians withdrew about ten miles,
THE RETREAT OF THE TEN THOUSAND. 239

lest they might be surprised when their horses were
shackled and they unarmed. This custom the Greeks
now took advantage of. As soon as the enemy had
withdrawn to their nightly camp the march was re-
sumed and continued for some ten miles. The dis-
tance gained gave the Greeks two days of peaceful
progress before their foes came up again.

On the fourth day the Greeks saw before them a
lofty hill, which must be passed, and which their
enemies occupied, having got past them in the night.
Their march seemed at an end, for the path that
must be taken was completely commanded by the
weapons of the foe. What was to be done? <A con- |
ference took place between Xenophon and the Spar-
tan Cheirisophus, his principal colleague. Xenophon
perceived that from the top of a mountain near the
army the hill held by the enemy might be reached.

“The best thing we can do is to gain the top of
this mountain with all haste,” he said; “if we are
once masters of that the enemy cannot maintain
themselves on the hill. You stay with the army, if
you think fit, and I will go up the hill. Or you go,
if you desire, and I will stay here.”

“I give you your choice,” answered Cheirisophus.

“Then I will go, as I am the younger man,” said
Xenophon.

Taking a strong force from the van of the army,
Xenophon at once began to climb the hill. The
enemy, seeing this movement, hastily detached a
force for the same purpose. Both sides shouted en-
couragement to their men, and Xenophon, riding be-
side his troop, spurred them to exertion by reminding
240 HISTORICAL TALES.

them of their wives and children at home. And
here took place one of those occurrences which gave
this leader so much influence over his men.

“Weare not upon equal terms, Xenophon,” said So-
teridas, a soldier from Sicyon, “ for you are on horse-
back, while I am weary from carrying my shield.”

Instantly Xenophon sprang from his horse, took
the man’s shield from his arm, and thrust him out
of the ranks, taking his place. The horseman’s
corselet which he wore, added to by the weight of
the shield, gave him much annoyance. But he called
out bravely to the men to hasten their pace.

On this the other soldiers began to abuse and
stone Soteridas, making it so unpleasant for him
that he was glad to ask for his shield again. Xeno-
phon now remounted and rode as far as his horse
could go, then sprang down and hastened onward on
foot. Such was the speed made that they reached
the summit before the foe, whereupon the enemy
fled, leaving the road open to the Greeks. That
evening they reached the plain beyond, where they
found a village abounding in food ; and in this plain,
near the Tigris, many other villages were found, well
filled with all sorts of provisions.

Finding it impossible to cross the Tigris in the
face of the enemy, who lined its western bank, the
Greeks were obliged to continue their course up its
eastern side. This would bring them to the elevated
table land of Armenia, but first they would have to
cross the rugged Carduchian Mountains, inhabited
by a tribe so fierce that they had hitherto defied all
the power of Persia, and had once destroyed a Per-
THE RETREAT OF THE TEN THOUSAND. 241

sian army of one hundred and twenty thousand men.
These mountains must be crossed, but the moun-
taineers proved fiercely hostile. Seven days were
occupied in the task, and these were days of constant
battle and loss. At one pass the Carduchians rolled
down such incessant masses of rocks that progress
was impossible, and the Greeks were almost in de-
spair. Fortunately a prisoner showed them a pass
by which they could get above these defenders, who,
on seeing themselves thus exposed, took to their
heels, and left the way open to the main body of
the Greek army. Glad enough were the disheart-
ened adventurers to see once more a.plain, and find
themselves past these dreaded hills and on the banks:
of an Armenian river.

But they now had the Persians again in their
front, with the Carduchians in their rear, and it was
with no small difficulty that they reached the north
side of this stream. In Armenia they had new perils
to encounter. The winter was upon them, and the
country covered with snow. Reaching at length the
head-waters of the Euphrates, they waded across,
and there found themselves in such deep snow and.
facing such fierce winds that many slaves and
draught-horses died of cold, together with about
thirty soldiers. Some of the men lost their sight
from the snow-glare; others had their feet badly
frosted ; food was very scarce; the foe was in their
rear. It was a miserable and woe-begone army that
at length gladly reached, on the summit of some hills,
a number of villages well stored with food.

In the country of the Taochians, which the fugi-—

I.—L qd 21
242 HISTORICAL TALES.

tives next reached, the people carried off all their
food into mountain strongholds, and starvation
threatened the Greeks. One of these strongholds
was reached, a lofty place surrounded by precipices,
where great numbers of men and women, with their
cattle, had assembled. Yet, strong as it was, it must
be taken, or the army would be starved.

As they sought to ascend, stones came down in
showers, breaking the legs and ribs of the unlucky
climbers. By stratagem, however, the Greeks in-
duced the defenders to exhaust their ammunition of
stones, the soldiers pretending to advance, and then
running back behind trees as the stones came crash-
ing down. Finally several bold men made a dash
for the top, others followed, and the place was won.
Then came a dreadful scene. The women threw
their children down the precipice, and then leaped
after them. The men did the same. Mneas, a cap-
tain, seeing a richly-dressed barbarian about to throw
himself down -the height, caught hold of him. It
was a fatal impulse of cupidity. The Taochian
seized him in a fierce grasp and sprang with him
over the brink, both being dashed to pieces below.
Very few prisoners were made, but, what was more
to the purpose of the Greeks, a large number of
oxen, asses, and sheep were obtained.

At another point, where a mountain-pass had to
be crossed, which could only be done by ascending
the mountain by stealth at night, and so turning the
position of the enemy, an amusing piece of badinage
took place between Xenophon, the Athenian, and
Cheirisophus, the Spartan. ;
THE RETREAT OF THE TEN THOUSAND. 243

“Stealing a march upon the enemy is more your
trade than mine,” said Xenophon. “For I under-
stand that you, the full citizens and peers at Sparta,
practise stealing from your boyhood upward, and
that it is held no way base, but even honorable, to
steal such things as the law does not distinctly forbid.
And to the end that you may steal with the greatest
effect, and take pains to do it in secret, the custom
is to flog you if you are found out. Here, then, you
have an excellent opportunity to display your train-
ing. Take good care that we be not found out in
stealing an occupation of the mountain now before
us; for if we are found out, we shall be well beaten.”

“Why, as to that,” retorted Cheirisophus, good-
humoredly, “you Athenians also, as I learn, are
capital hands at stealing the public money, and that,
too, in spite of prodigious peril to the thief. Nay,
your most powerful men steal most of all, at least if
it be the most powerful men among you who are
raised to official command. So this is a time for you
to exhibit your training, as well as for me to exhibit
mine.”

Leaving the land of the Taochi, the Greeks en-
tered that of the Chabybes, which they were seven
days in passing through. All the food here was
carried off, and they had to live on the cattle they
had recently won. Then came the country of the
Skythini, where they found villages and food. Four
days more brought them to a large and flourishing
city named Gymnias. They were now evidently
drawing near to the sea and civilization.

In fact, the chief of this city told them that the
244 HISTORICAL, TALES,

_sea was but five days’ journey away, and gave them
a guide who in that time would conduct them toa
hill from which they could see the Huxine’s distant
waves. On they went, and at length, while Xeno-
phon was driving off some natives that had attacked
the rear of the column, he heard loud shouts in front.
Thinking that the van had been assailed, he rode
hastily forward at the head of his few cavalry, the
noise increasing as he approached.

At length the sounds took shape into words.
“ Thalatta! Thalatta!” (“ The sea! The seal”) cried
the Greeks, in tones of exultation and ecstasy. All,
excited by the sound, came hurrying up to the
summit, and burst into simultaneous shouts of joy
as they saw, far in the distance, the gleaming waters
of the long-prayed-for sea. Tears, embraces, cries
of wild delight, manifested their intense feeling, and
for the time being the whole army went mad with
joy. The terrors of their march were at an end;
they were on the verge of Grecian territory again ;
and with pride they felt that they had achieved an
enterprise such as the world had never known
before.

A few words will suffice to complete their tale.
Reaching the city of Trebizond, they took ship for
home. Fifteen months had passed since they set out
with the army of Cyrus. After various further ad-
ventures, Xenophon led them on a pillaging expe-
dition against the Persians of Asia Minor, paid them
all richly from the plunder, and gained himself
sufficient wealth to enrich him for the remainder of
his days.
TE RESCUE OL THEBES,

On a certain cold and wet evening, in the month
of December of the year 379 B.c., seven men, dressed
as rustics or hunters, and to all appearance unarmed,
though each man had a dagger concealed beneath his
clothes, appeared at the gate of Thebes, the principal
city of the Beotian confederacy. They had come
that day from Athens, making their way afoot across
Mount Citheron, which lay between. It was now
just nightfall and most of the farmers had come
into the city from the fields, but some late ones were
still returning. Mingling with these, the seven
strangers entered the gates, unnoticed by the
guards, and were quickly lost to sight in the city
streets. Quietly as they had come, the noise of their
coming was soon to resound throughout Greece, for
the arrival of those seven men was the first step in
a revolution that was destined to overturn all the
existing conditions of Grecian states.

We should like to go straight on with their story ;
but to make it clear to our readers we must go back
and offer a short extract from earlier history. Hith-
erto the history of Greece had been largely the his-
tory of two cities, Athens and Sparta. The other

cities had all played second or third parts to these
21* 245
246 HISTORICAL TALES.

great and proud municipalities. But now a third
city, Thebes, was about to come forward, and assume
a leading place in the history of Greece. And of the
two men who were to guide it in this proud career,
one was among the seven who entered the gates of
the city in rustic garb that rainy December night.

Of the earlier history of Thebes little need be said.
It played its part in the legendary story of Greece,
as may be seen in our story of the “Seven against
Thebes.” During the Persian invasion Thebes
proved false to its country, assisted the invaders,
and after their repulse was punished for its treason-
able acts. Later on it came again into prominent
notice. During the Peloponnesian war it was a
strong ally of Sparta. Another city, only six miles
away, Platea, was as strong an ally of Athens.
And the inhabitants of these two cities hated each
other with the bitterest animosity. Itis a striking
example of the isolated character of Greek communi-
ties, and one that it is difficult to understand in mod-
ern times, that two cities of one small state, so near
together that an easy two hours’ walk would take a
traveller from the gates of one to those of the other,
could be the bitterest of enemies, sworn allies of
two hostile states, and the inhabitants ready to cut
each other’s throats at any opportunity. Certainly
the sentiment of human brotherhood has vastly
widened since then. There are no two cities in the
civilized world to-day that feel to each other as did
Platea and Thebes, only six miles apart, in that
famous era of Grecian enlightenment.

We have told how Platewa was taken and de-
THE RESCUE OF THEBES. 247

stroyed, and its defenders murdered, by a Spartan
army. But it is well to say here that Thebans
formed the most fiercely hostile part of that army,
and that it was the Thebans who demanded and
obtained the murder in cold blood of the hapless
prisoners.

And now we pass on to a date less than fifty
years later to find a remarkable change in the state
of affairs. Athens has fallen from her high estate.
Sparta is now the lord and master of the Grecian
world. And a harsh master has she proved, with
her controlling agents in every city, her voice the
arbiter in all political concerns.

Thebes is now the friend of Athens and the foe of
Sparta, the chief among those cities which oppose
the new order of things. Yet Thebes in 379 B.c. lies
hard and fast within the Spartan clutch. How she
got there is now for us to tell.

It was an act of treason, some three years before,
that handed this city over to the tender mercies of
her old ally, her present foe. There was a party in
Thebes favorable to Sparta, at whose head was a
man named Leontiades. And at this time Sparta
was at war with Olynthus, a city far to the north.
One Spartan army had marched to Olynthus. <An-
other, led by a general named Pheebidas, was on its
march thither, and had halted for a period of rest
near the gymnasium, a short distance outside the
walls of Thebes. There is good reason to believe
that Phoebidas well knew what Leontiades designed,
and was quite ready to play his part in the treacher-
ous scheme.
248 HISTORICAL TALES.

It was the day of the Thesmophoria, a religious
festival celebrated by women only, no men being
admitted. The Cadmeia, or citadel, had been given
to their use, and was now occupied by women alone.
It was a warm summer's day. The heat of noon
had driven the people from the streets. The Senate
of the city was in session in the portico of the agora,
or forum, but their deliberations were drowsily con-
ducted and the whole city seemed taking a noontide
siesta,

Pheebidas chose this warm noontide to put his
army in march again, rounding the walls of Thebes.
As the van passed the gates Jeontiades, who had
stolen away from the Senate and hastened on horse-
back through the deserted streets, rode up to the
Spartan commander, and bade him turn and march
inward through the gate which lay invitingly open
before him. Through the deserted streets Phebidas
and his men rapidly made their way, following the
traitor Theban, to the gates of the Cadmeia, which,
like those of the town, were thrown open to his order
as polemarch, or war governor; and the Spartans,
pouring in, soon were masters not only of the cita-
del, but of the wives and daughters of the leading

- Theban citizens as well.

The news got abroad only when it was too late to
remedy the treacherous act. The Senate heard with
consternation that their acropolis was in the hands
of their enemies, their wives captives, their city at the
mercy of the foe. Leontiades returned to his seat,
and at once gave orders for the arrest of his chief
opponent Ismenias. He had a party armed and
THE RESCUE OF THEBES. 249

ready. The Senate was helpless. Ismenias was
seized and conveyed to Sparta, where he was basely
put to death. The other senators hurried home, glad
to escape with their lives. Three hundred of them
left the city in haste, and made their way as exiles
to Athens. The other citizens, whose wives and
daughters were in Spartan hands, felt obliged to
submit. “Order reigned” in Thebes; such was the
message which Leontiades bore to Sparta.

Thus it was that Sparta gained possession of one
of her greatest opponents. Leontiades and his fel-
lows, backed by a Spartan general, ruled the city
harshly. The rich were robbed, the prisons were
filled, many more citizens fled into exile. Thebes
was in the condition of a conquered city; the people,
helpless and indignant, waited impatiently the slow
revolution of the wheel of destiny which should once
more set them free.

As for the exiles at Athens, they sought in vain to
obtain Athenian aid to recover their city from the
foe. Athens was by no means in love with Sparta,
but peace had been declared, and all they could agree
to do was to give the fugitives a place of refuge. Hvi-
dently the city, which had been won by treason, was
not to be recovered by open war. If set free at all it
must be by secret measures. And with this intent a
conspiracy was formed between the leaders of the ex-
iles and certain citizens of Thebes for the overthrow
of Leontiades and his colleagues and the expulsion of
the Spartan garrison from the citadel. And this it
was that brought the seven men to Thebes,—seven
exiles, armed with hidden daggers, with which they
250 HISTORICAL TALES.

were to win a city and start a revolution which in the
end would destroy the power of Sparta the imperial.

Of the seven exiles who thus returned, under cover
of night and disguise, to their native city, the chief
was Pelopidas, a rich and patriotic Theban, who was
yet to prove himself one of the great men of Greece.
Entering the gates, they proceeded quietly through
the streets, and soon found an abiding-place in the
house of Charon, an earnest patriot. This was their
appointed rendezvous.

And now we have a curious incident to tell, show-
ing on what small accidents great events may hinge.
Among the Thebans who had been let into the secret
of the conspiracy was a faint-hearted man named
Hipposthenidas. As the time for action drew near
this ‘timid fellow grew more and more frightened,
and at length took upon himself, unknown to the
rest, to stop the coming of the exiled patriots. He
ordered Chlidon, a faithful slave of one of the seven,
to ride in haste from Thebes, meet his master on the
road, and bid him and his companions to go back to
Athens, as circumstances had arisen which made
their coming dangerous and their project imprac-
ticable.

Chlidon, ready to obey orders, went home for his
bridle, but failed to find it in its usual place. He
asked his wife where it was. She pretended at first
to help him look for it, but at last, in a tone of con-
trition, acknowledged that she had lent it, without
asking him, to a neighbor. Chlidon, in a burst of
anger at the delay to his journey, entered into a loud
altercation with the woman, who grew angry on her
THE RESCUE OF THEBES. 251

part and wished him ill luck on his journey. Word
led to word, both sides grew more angry and abusive,
and at length he began to beat his wife, and continued
his ill treatment until her cries brought neighbors in
to separate them. But all this caused a loss of time,
the bridle was not in this way to be had, and in the
end Chlidon’s journey was stopped, and the message
he had been asked to bear never reached the con-
spirators on their way. Accidents of this kind often
frustrate the best-laid plans. In this case the acci-
dent was providential to the conspiracy.

And now, what were these seven men to do?
Four men—Leontiades, Archias, Philippus, and
Hypates—had the city under their control. But
they were supported in their tyranny by a garrison
of fifteen hundred Spartans and allies in the Cad-
meia, and Lacedemonian posts in the other cities
around. These four men were to be dealt with, and
for that purpose the seven had come. On the even-
ing of the next day Archias and Philippus designed
to have a banquet. Phyllidas, their secretary, but
secretly one of the patriots, had been ordered to
prepare the banquet for them, and had promised to
introduce into their society on that occasion some
women of remarkable beauty and of the best fami-
lies in Thebes. He did not hint to them that these
women would wear beards and carry daggers under
their robes.

We have told, in a previous tale, the story of the
“Seven against Thebes.” The one with which we
are now concerned might be properly entitled the
“Seven for Thebes.” That night and the following
252 HISTORICAL TALES.

day the devoted seven lay concealed. Hvening came
on. ‘The hour when they were to play their parts
had nearly arrived. They were in that state of
strained expectation that brings the nerves to the
surface, and started in sudden dread when a loud
knock came upon the door. They were still more
startled on hearing its purpose. A messenger had
come to bid Charon instantly to come to the presence
of the two feasting polemarchs.

What did it mean? Had the plot been divulged?
Had the timid Hipposthenidas betrayed them? At
any rate, there was but one thing to do; Charon
must go at once. But he, faithful soul, was most in
dread that his friends should suspect him of treachery.
He therefore brought his son, a highly promising
youth of fifteen, and put him in the hands of Pelopi-
das as a hostage for his fidelity.

“This is folly!” cried they all. “No one doubts
you. Take the boy away. It is enough for us to
face the danger; do not seek to bring the boy into
the same peril.”

Charon would not listen to their remonstrances,
but insisted on leaving the youth in their hands, and
hastened away to the house of the polemarchs. He
found them at the feast, already half intoxicated.
Word had been sent them from Athens that some
plot, they knew not what, was afloat. He was known
to be a friend of the exiles. He must tell them what
he knew about it.

Fortunately, the pair were too nearly drunk to
be acute. Their suspicions were very vague. Cha-
ron, aided by Phyllidas, had little trouble in satis-
THE RESCUE OF THEBES. 253

fying them that the report was false. ager to get
back to their wine they dismissed him, very glad in-
deed to get away. Hardly had he gone before a fresh
message, and a far more dangerous one, was brought
to Archias, sent by a namesake of his at Athens. This
gave a full account of the scheme and the names of
those who were to carry it out. “It relates to a
very serious matter,” said the messenger who bore it.

“Serious matters for to-morrow,” cried Archias,
with a drunken laugh, as he put the unopened de-
spatch under the pillow of his couch and took up
the wine-cup again.

“Those whom the gods mean to destroy they first
make mad,” says an apposite Grecian proverb. These
men were foredcomed.

“A truce to all this disturbance,” cried the two
polemarchs to Phyllidas. “Where are the women
whom you promised us? Let us see these famous
high-born beauties.”

Phyllidas at once retired, and quickly returned
with the seven conspirators, clothed in female attire.
Leaving them in an adjoining chamber, he entered
the banquet-room, and told the feasters that the
women refused to come in unless all the domestics
were first dismissed.

“Let it be so,” said Archias, and at the command
of Phyllidas the domestics sought the house of one
of their number, where the astute secretary had well
supplied them with wine.

The two polemarchs, with one or two friends,
alone remained, all half intoxicated, and the only
armed one being Cabcirichus, the archon, who was

22
254 HISTORICAL TALES.

obliged by law to keep always with him the conse-
crated spear of office.

And now the supposed and eagerly expected
women were brought in,—three of them attired as
ladies of distinction, the four others dressed as attend-
ants. Their long veils and ample robes completely
disguised them, and they sat down beside the pole-
marchs without a suspicion being entertained. Not
till their drunken companions lifted their veils did
the truth appear. But the lifting of the veils was
the signal for quick and deep dagger-thrusts, and
Archias and Philippus, with scarcely a movement of
resistance, fell dead from their seats. No harm was
meant to.the others, but the drunken archon rushed
on the conspirators with his spear, and in conse-
quence perished with his friends.

There were two more of the tyrants to deal with.
Phyllidas led three of the conspirators to the house
of Leontiades, into which he was admitted as the
bearer of an order from the polemarchs. Leontiades
was reclining after supper, with his wife spinning
wool by his side, when his foes entered his chamber,
dagger in hand. A bold and strong man, he in-
stantly sprang up, seized his sword, and with a
thrust mortally wounded the first of the three.
Then a desperate struggle took place in the door-
way between him and Pelopidas, the place being
too narrow for the third to approach. In the end
Pelopidas dealt him a mortal blow. Then, threaten-
ing the wife with death if she gave the alarm, and
closing the door with stern commands that it should
not be opened again, the two patriots left the house
 

GATE OF THE AGORA OR OIL MARKET, ATHENS.
THE RESCUE OF THEBES. 255

and sought that of Hypates. He took the alarm
and fled, and was pursued to the roof, where he was
killed as he was trying to escape over the house-
tops.

This work done, and no alarm yet given, the con-
spirators proceeded to the prison, whose doors they
ordered to be opened. The jailer hesitated, and was
slain by a spear-thrust, the patriots rushing over his
body into the prison, from whose cells the tenants
were soon released. These, one hundred and fifty in
number, sufferers for their patriotic sentiments, were
quickly armed from battle-spoils kept near by, and
drawn up in battle array. And now, for the first
time, did the daring conspirators feel assurance of
sUuCCESS.

The tidings of what had been done by this time
got abroad, and ran like wildfire through the city.
Citizens poured excitedly into the streets. Hpami-
nondas, who was afterwards to become the great
leader of the Thebans, joined with some friends the
small array of patriots. Proclamation was made
throughout the city by heralds that the despots were
slain and Thebes was free, and all Thebans who
valued liberty were bidden to muster in arms in the
market-place. All the trumpeters in the city were
bidden to blow with might and main, from street to
street, and thus excite the people to take arms to
secure their liberty.

While night lasted surprise and doubt continued,
many of the citizens not knowing what todo. But
with day-dawn came a wild outburst of joy and en-
thusiasm. Horsemen and footmen hastened in arms
256 HISTORICAL TALES.

tothe agora. Here a formal assembly of the Theban
people was convened, before whom Pelopidas and his
fellows appeared to tell what they had done. The
priests crowned them with wreaths, while the people
hailed them with joyful acclamations. With a single
voice they nominated Pelopidas, Mellon, and Charon
as Beotarchs,—a Theban title of authority which
had for a number of years been dropped.

Such was the hatred which the long oppression
had aroused, that the very women trod underfoot the
slain jailer, and spat upon his corpse. In that city,
where women rarely showed themselves in public,
this outburst strongly indicated the general public
rage against the overthrown despots. Messengers
hastened to Attica to carry to the exiles the glad
tidings, and soon they, with a body of Athenian
volunteers, were in joyful march for the city.

Meanwhile, the Spartans in the citadel were ina
state of distraction and alarm. All night long the
flashing of lights, the blare of trumpets, the shouts
of excited patriots, the sound of hurrying feet in the
city, had disturbed their troubled souls, and when
affrighted partisans of the defeated party came hur-
rying for safety into the Cadmeia, with tidings of
the tragic event, they were filled with confusion and
dismay. Accustomed to look to the polemarchs for
orders, the garrison did not know whom to trust
or consult. They hastily sent out messengers to
Thespia and Platea for aid, but the forces which
came to their help from these cities were charged
upon by the Thebans and driven back with loss.

What to do the Spartan commander knew not.
THE RESCUE OF THEBES. 257

The citizens were swarming in the streets, and
gathering in force around the citadel. That they
intended to storm it before aid could come from
Sparta was evident. In fact, they were already
rushing to the assault,—large rewards being offered
those who should first force their way in,—when a
flag of truce from the garrison stopped them in mid-
career. The commander proposed to capitulate.

All he asked was liberty to march out of Thebes
with the honors of war. This was granted him,
under oath. At once the foreign garrison filed out
from the citadel and marched to one of the gates,
accompanied by the Theban refugees who had sought
shelter withthem. These latter had not been granted
the honors of war. Among them were some of the
prominent oppressors of the people. In a burst of
ungovernable rage these were torn from the Spartan
ranks by the people and put to death; even the
children of some of them being slain. Few of the
refugees would have escaped but for the Athenians
present, who generously helped to get them safely
through the gates and out of sight and reach of their
infuriated townsmen.

And thus, almost without a blow, in a night’s and
a morning’s work, the city of Thebes, which for
several years had lain helpless in the hands of its
foes, regained its liberty. As for the Spartan har-
mosts, or leaders, who had capitulated without an
attempt at defence, two of them were put to death
on reaching home, the third was heavily fined and
banished. Sparta had no mercy and no room for

beaten men.
lL—r 22*
258 HISTORICAL TALES.

Thebes was free! The news spread like an elec-
tric shock through the Grecian world. A few men,
taking a desperate risk, had in an hour overthrown
a government that seemed beyond assault. The
empire of Sparta, the day before undisputed and
nearly universal over Greece, had received a serious
blow. Throughout all Greece men breathed easier,
while the spirit of patriotism suddenly flamed again.
The first blow in a coming revolution had been
struck,
THE HUMILIATION OF SPARTA.

Tueses was free! But would she stay free?
Sparta was against her,—Sparta, the lord of Greece.
Could a single city, however liberty-loving and de-
voted its people, maintain itself against that engine
of war which had humbled mighty Athens and now
lorded it over the world of Greece? This is the
question we have to answer; how in a brief space
the dominion of Sparta was lost, and Thebes, so long
insignificant and almost despised, rose to take the
foremost place in Greece.

Two men did this work. As seven men had re-
stored Thebes to freedom, two men lifted her almost
into empire. One of these was Pelopidas, the lead-
ing spirit of the seven. The other was Epaminon-
das, whose name was simply mentioned in the tale
of the patriotic seven, yet who in the coming years
was to prove himself one of the greatest men Greece
ever produced.

Pelopidas belonged to one of the richest and
highest families of Thebes. He was one of the
youngest of the exiles, yet a man of earnest patriot-
ism and unbounded daring. It was his ardent spirit
that gave life to the conspiracy, and his boldness
and enterprise that led it forward to success. And
it was the death of Leontiades by his hand that

freed Thebes.
259
260 HISTORICAL TALES.

Epaminondas was a man of different character and
position. Though of ancient and honorable family,
he was poor, while Pelopidas was very rich ; middle-
aged, while Pelopidas was young; quiet, patient, and
thoughtful, while Pelopidas was bold, active, and en-
ergetic. In the wars that followed he was the brain,
while Pelopidas was the right hand, of Thebes. Hpam-
inondas had been an earnest student of philosophy
and music, and was an adept in gymnastic training.
He was a listener, not a talker, yet no Theban
equalled him in eloquence in time when speech was
needful. He loved knowledge, yet he cared little for
power, and nothing for money, and he remained con-
tentedly poor till the end of his days, not leaving
enough wealth to pay his funeral expenses. He did
not love bloodshed, even to gain liberty. He had
objected to the conspiracy, since freedom was to be
gained through murder. Yet this was the man who
was to save Thebes and degrade her great enemy,
Sparta.

Like Socrates and Alcibiades, these two men were
the warmest friends. Their friendship, like that of
the two great Athenians, had been cemented in
battle. Standing side by side as hoplites (or heavy
armed soldiers), on an embattled field, Pelopidas had
fallen wounded, and Epaminondas had saved his life
at the greatest danger to himself, receiving several
wounds while bearing his helpless friend to a place
of safety. To the end of their lives they continued
intimate friends, each recognizing the peculiar powers
of the other, and the two working like one man for
Theban independence.
THE HUMILIATION OF SPARTA. 261

Epaminondas proved himself a thinker of the.
highest military genius, Pelopidas a leader of the
greatest military vigor. The work of the latter was
largely performed with the Sacred Band, a warlike
association of three hundred youthful Thebans,
sworn to defend the citadel until death, bound by
bonds of warm friendship, and trained into the
highest military efficiency. Pelopidas was the cap-
tain of this noble band, which was never overcome
until the fatal battle of Cheeronéa, and then only by
death, the Three Hundred lying dead in their ranks
as they had stood.

For the events with which we have now to deal
we must leap over seven years from the freeing of
Thebes. It will suffice to say that for two years of
that time Sparta fought fiercely against that city,
but could not bring it under subjection again. Then
wars arose elsewhere and drew her armies away.
Thebes now took the opportunity to extend her
power over the other cities of Boeotia, and of one of
these cities there is something of interest to tell.

We have told in an earlier tale how Sparta and
Thebes captured Plata and swept it from the face
of the earth. Recently Sparta had rebuilt the city,
recalled its exiled citizens, and placed it asa Spartan
outpost against Thebes. But now, when the armies
of Sparta had withdrawn, the Thebans deemed it a
good opportunity to conquer it again. One day,
when the Platewan men were at work in their fields,
and unbroken peace prevailed, a Theban force sud-
denly took the city by surprise, and forced the
Plateeans to surrender at discretion. Poor Plata
262 HISTORICAL TALES.

was again levelled with the ground, her people were
once more sent into exile, and her soil was added to
that of Thebes. It may be well to say here that most
of the Greeian cities consisted of the walled town
and sufficient surrounding land to raise food for the
inbabitants within, and that the farmers went out
each morning to cultivate their fields, and returned
each night within the shelter of their walls. It was
this habit that gave Thebes its treacherous oppor-
tunity.

During the seven years mentioned we hear nothing
of Epaminondas, yet we know that he made himself
felt within the walls of Thebes; for when, in 371 B.c.,
the cities of, Greece, satisfied that it was high time
to stop cutting each other's throats, held a congress
at Sparta to conclude peace, we find him there as
the representative of Thebes.

The terms of peace demanded by Athens, and
agreed to by most of the delegates, were that each
city, small or large, should possess autonomy, or self-
government. Sparta and Athens were to become
mutual guarantees, dividing the headship of Greece
between them. As for Thebes and her claim to the
headship of Beeotia, her demand was set aside.

This conclusion reached, the cities one after an-
other took oath to keep the terms of peace, each
city swearing for itself except Sparta, which took
the oath for itself and its allies. When it came to
the turn of Thebes there was a break in this love-
feast. Sparta had sworn for all the cities of Laco-
nia; Epaminondas, as the representative of Thebes,
insisted on swearing not for Thebes alone, but for
THE HUMILIATION OF SPARTA. 263

Thebes as president of all Beotia. He made a
vigorous speech, asking why Sparta was granted
rights from which other leading cities were de-
barred.

This was a new question. No Greek had ever
asked it openly before. To Sparta it seemed the
extreme of insolence and insult. What daring
stranger was this who presumed to question her

right to absolute control of Laconia? No speech
“was made in her defence. Spartans never made
speeches. They prided themselves on their few
words and quick deeds,—laconic utterances, as they
have since been called. The Spartan king sprang
indignantly from his seat.

“Speak plainly,” he scornfully demanded. “ Will
you, or will you not, leave to each of the Beotian
cities its separate autonomy ?”

“Will you leave each of the Laconian towns its
separate autonomy ?” demanded Epaminondas.

Not another word was said. Agesilaus, the Spar-
tan king, who was also president of the congress,
caused the name of Thebes to be stricken from the
roll, and proclaimed that city to be excluded from
the treaty of peace.

It was a bold move on the part of Epaminondas,
for it meant war with all the power of Sparta, re-
lieved of all other enemies by the peace. Sparta
had conquered and humbled Athens. It had con-
quered many other cities, forcing some of them to
throw down their walls and go back again to their
old state of villages. What upstart was this that
dared defy its wrath and power? Thebes could hope
264 HISTORICAL TALES.

for no allies, and seemed feeble against Spartan
strength. How dared, then, this insolent delegate
to fling defiance in the teeth of the lord of Greece?

Fortunately Thebes needed no allies. It had two
men of warlike genius, Epaminondas and Pelopidas.
These were to prove in themselves worth a host of
allies. The citizens were with them. Great as was
the danger, the Thebans sustained Epaminondas in
his bold action, and made him general of their army.
He at once marched to occupy a pass by which it
was expected the Spartans would come. Sparta at
that moment had a strong army under Cleombrotus,
one of its two kings, in Phocis, on the frontier of
Beotia. This was at once ordered to march against
defiant Thebes.

Cleombrotus lost no time, and with a military skill
which Spartans rarely showed he evaded the pass
which Epaminondas held, followed a narrow moun-
tain-track, captured Creusis, the port of Thebes,
with twelve war-ships in the harbor, and then
marched to a place called Leuctra, within an easy
march of Thebes, yet which left open communication
with Sparta by sea, by means of the captured port.

The Thebans had been outgeneralled, and were
dismayed by the result. The Spartans and their
king were full of confidence and joy. All the elo-
quence of Epaminondas and the boldness of Pelopi-
das were needed to keep the courage of their country-
men alive and induce them to march against their
foes. And it was with much more of despair than
of hope that they took up at length a position on
the hilly ground opposite the Spartan camp.
THE HUMILIATION OF SPARTA. 265

The two armies were not long in coming to blows.
The Spartans and their allies much exceeded the
Thebans in numbers. But Epaminondas prepared
to make the most of his small force by drawing it
up in a new array, never before seen in Greece.

Instead of forming the narrow line of battle always
before the rule in Greek armies, he placed in front
of his left wing Pelopidas and the Sacred Band, and
behind them arranged a mass of men fifty shields
deep, a prodigious depth for a Grecian host. The
centre and right were drawn up in the usual thin
lines, but were kept back on the defensive, so that
the deep column might join battle first.

Thus arrayed, the army of Thebes marched to
meet its foe, in the valley between the two declivi-
ties on which the hostile camps were placed. The
cavalry met first, and the Theban horsemen soon put
the Spartan troop to flight. Then the footmen came
together with a terrible shock. Pelopidas and his
Sacred Band, ‘and behind them the weight of the
fifty shields, proved more than the Spartans, with
all their courage and discipline, could endure. Both
sides fought bravely, hand to hand; but soon Cleom-
brotus fell, mortally hurt, and was with difficulty
carried off alive. Around him fell others of the
Spartan leaders. The resistance was obstinate, the
slaughter terrible; but at last the Spartan right
wing, overborne by the heavy Theban mass and
utterly beaten, was driven back to its camp on the
hill-side above. Meanwhile the left wing, made up
of allies, did little fighting, and quickly followed the
Spartans back to the camp.

M 23
266 HISTORICAL TALES,

It was a crushing defeat. Of seven hundred Spar-
tans who had marched in confidence from the camp,
only three hundred returned thither in dismay. A
thousand and more Lacedemonians besides were left
dead upon the field. Not since the day of Ther-
mopyle had Sparta lost a king in battle. The loss
of the Theban army was not more than three hun-
dred men. Only twenty days had elapsed since
Epaminondas left Sparta, spurned by the scorn of
one of her kings; and now he stood victor over
Sparta at Leuctra, with her second king dead in his
camp of refuge. It is not surprising that to Greece,
which had felt sure of the speedy overthrow of
Thebes, these tidings came like a thunderbolt.
Sparta on land had been thought irresistible. But
here on equal ground, and with nearly double force,
she had been beaten by insignificant Thebes.

We must hasten to the end of this campaign.
Sparta, wrought to desperation by her defeat, sent
all the men she could spare in reinforcement. ‘Thebes,
too, sought allies, and found a powerful one in Jason
of Phere, a city of Thessaly. The Theban leaders,
flushed with victory, were eager to attack the enemy
in his camp, but Jason gave them wiser advice.

“Be content,” he said, “with the great victory
you have gained. Do not risk its loss by attacking
Lacedemonians driven to despair in their camp.
You yourselves were in despair a few days ago.
Remember that the gods take pleasure in bringing
about sudden changes of fortune.”

This advice taken, Jason offered the enemy the
opportunity to retreat in safety from their danger-
THE HUMILIATION OF SPARTA. 267

ous position. This they gladly accepted, and marched
in haste away. On their journey home they met a
second army coming to their relief. This was no
longer needed, and the whole baffled force returned
home.

The military prestige held by Sparta met with a
serious blow from this signal defeat. The prestige
of Thebes suddenly rose into supremacy, and her
control of Beotia became complete. But the humil-
iation of Sparta was not yet near its end. Epam-
inondas was not the man to do things by halves.
In November of 370 3.c. he marched an army into
Arcadia (a country adjoining Laconia on the north),
probably the largest hostile force that had ever been
seen in the Peloponnesus. With its Arcadian and
other allies it amounted to forty thousand, or, as
some say, to seventy thousand, men, and among
these the Thebans formed a body of splendidly
drilled and disciplined troops, not surpassed by those
of Sparta herself. The enthusiasm arising from vic-
tory, the ardor of Pelopidas, and the military genius
of Epaminondas had made a wonderful change in
the hoplites of Thebes in a year’s time.

And now a new event in the history of the Spartan
commonwealth was seen. For centuries the Spar-
tans had done their fighting abroad, marching at
will through all parts of Greece. They were now
obliged to fight on their own soil, in defence of
their own hearths and homes. Dividing his army
into four portions, Epaminondas marched into rock-
bounded Laconia by four passes.

The Arcadians had often felt the hard hand of
268 HISTORICAL TALES.

their warlike neighbors. Only a short time before
one of their principal cities, Mantinea, had been
robbed of its walls and converted into open villages.
Since the battle of Leuctra the villagers had rebuilt
their walls and defied a Spartan army. Now the
Arcadians proved even more daring than the The-
bans. They met a Spartan force and annihilated it.

Into the country of Laconia pushed the invaders.
The city of Sellasia was taken and burned. The
river Eurotas was forded. Sparta lay before Epam-
inondas and his men.

It lay before them without a wall or tower.
Through its whole history no foreign army had
come so near it. It trusted for defence not to walls,
but to Spartan hearts and hands. Yet now conster-
nation reigned. Sparta the inviolate, Sparta the un-
assailable, was in imminent peril of suffering the
same fate it had often meted out freely to its foes.

But the Spartans had not been idle. Allies had
sent aid in all haste to the city. Even six thousand
of the Helots were armed as hoplites, though to see
such a body of their slaves in heavy armor alarmed
the Spartans almost as much as to behold their foes
so near at hand. In fact, many of the Helots and
country people joined the Theban army, while others
refused to come to the aid of the imperilled city.

Epaminondas marched on until he was in sight of
the city. He did not attempt to storm it. Though
without walls, Sparta had strong -natural defences,
and heaps of earth and stones had been hastily
thrown up on the most open roads. A strong army
had been gathered. The Spartans would fight to
THE HUMILIATION OF SPARTA. 269

death for their homes. To attack them in their
stronghold might be to lose all that had been gained.
Repulse here would be ruin. Content with having
faced the lion in his den, Epaminondas turned and
marched down the Eurotas, his army wasting, plun-
dering, and burning as it went, while the Spartans,
though in an agony of shame and wounded honor,
were held back by their king from the peril of
meeting their enemy in the field.

In the end, his supplies growing scarce, his soldiers
loaded with plunder, Epaminondas led his army
back to Arcadia, having accomplished far more than
any foe of Sparta had ever done before, and destroyed
the warlike reputation of Sparta throughout Greece,

But the great Theban did not end here. He had
two other important objects in view. One was to
consolidate the Arcadians by building them a great
central city, to be called Megalopolis (Great City),
and inhabited by people from all parts of the state.
This was done, thick and lofty walls, more than five
miles and a half in circumference, being built round
the new stronghold.

His other purpose was to restore the country of
Messenia. We have already told how this country
had been conquered by the Spartans centuries before,
and its people exiled or enslaved. Their descendants
were now to regain their liberty and their homes.
A new city, to be named Messenia, was ordered by
Epaminondas to be built, and this, at the request of
the Messenians, was erected on Mount Ithome, where
the gallant hero Aristomenes had made his last stand
against his country’s invaders.

23%
270 HISTORICAL TALES.

The city was built, the walls rising to the music
of Argeian and Beotian flutes. The best architects
and masons of Greece were invited to lay out the
plans of streets and houses and of the sacred edifices.
The walls were made so strong and solid that they
became the admiration of after-ages. The surround-
ing people, who had been slaves of Sparta, were
made freemen and citizens of the reorganized state.
A wide area of land was taken from Laconia and
given to the new communities which Epaminondas
had formed. Then, in triumph, he marched back to
Thebes, having utterly destroyed the power and
prestige of Sparta in Greece.

Reaching home, he was put on trial by certain
enemies. He had broken the law by keeping com-
mand of the army four months beyond the allotted
time. He appealed to the people, with what result
we can readily understand. He was acquitted by
acclamation, and he and Pelopidas were immediately
re-elected Boeotarchs (or generals) for the coming
year
TIMOLEON, THE FAVORITE OF
FORTUNE,

In the city of Corinth dwelt two brothers; one of
whom, named Timoleon, was distinguished alike for
his courage, gentleness, patriotism, lack of ambition,
and hatred of despots and traitors; the other, named
Timophanes, was noted for bravery and enterprise,
but also for unprincipled ambition and lack of pa-
triotism. Timophanes, being a valiant soldier, had
gained high rank in the army of Corinth. Timoleon
loved his unworthy brother and sought to screen
his faults. He did more: he saved his life at fright-
ful peril to himself. During a battle between the
army of Corinth and that of some neighboring
state, Timophanes, who commanded the cavalry, was
thrown from his wounded horse very near to the
enemy. ‘The cavalry fled, leaving him to what
seemed certain death. But Timoleon, who was
serving with the infantry, rushed from the ranks
and covered his brother with his shield just as the
enemy were about to pierce him. They turned in
numbers on the defender, with spears and darts, but
he warded off their blows, and protected his fallen
brother at the cost of several wounds to himself,
until others rushed to the rescue and drove back the

foo,
271
272 HISTORICAL TALES.

The whole city was full of admiration of Timoleon
for this act of devotion. Timophanes also was
raised in public estimation through his brother's
deed, and was placed in an important post. Corinth
was governed by an aristocracy, who, just then,
brought in a garrison of four hundred foreign
soldiers and placed them in the citadel. Timophanes
was given command of this garrison and control of
the stronghold.

The governors of the city did not know their man,
Here was an opportunity for the unlimited ambition
of the new commander. Gaining some armed par-
tisans among the poorer citizens, and availing him-
self of the control of fort and garrison, Timophanes
soon made himself master of the city, and seized and
put to death all who opposed him among the chief
citizens. Unwittingly the Corinthian aristocrats had
put over themselves a cruel despot.

But they found also a defender. The crimes of
his brother at first filled Timoleon with shame and
sorrow. He went to the citadel and begged Timoph-
anes, by all he held sacred, to renounce his ambi-
tious projects. The new despot repelled his appeal
with contempt. Timoleon went again, this time with
three friends, but with’no better effect. Timoph-
anes laughed them to scorn, and as they continued
their pleading he grew angry and refused to hear
more. Then the three friends drew their swords
and killed the tyrant on the spot, while Timoleon
stood aside, with his face hidden and his eyes bathed
in tears.

He who had saved his brother’s life at the risk of
TIMOLEON, THE FAVORITE OF FORTUNE, 273

his own had now consented to his death to save
his country. But personally, although all Corinth
warmly applauded his patriotic act, he was thrown
into the most violent grief and remorse. This was
the greater from the fact that his mother viewed his
deed with horror and execration, invoked curses on
his head, and refused even to see him despite his
earnest supplications.

The gratitude of the city was overcome in his mind
by grief for his brother, and he was attacked by the
bitterest pangs of remorse. The killing of the tyrant
he had felt to be a righteous and necessary act. The
murder of his brother afflicted him with despair. For
a time he refused food, resolving to end his odious
life by starvation. Only the prayersof his friends
made him change this resolution. Then, like one pur-
sued by the furies, he fled from the city, hid himself
in solitude, and kept aloof from the eyes and voices
of men. For several years he thus dwelt in self-
afflicting solitude, and when at length time reduced
his grief and he returned to the city, he shunned all
prominent positions, and lived in humility and retire-
ment. Thus time went on until twenty years had
passed, Timoleon still, in spite of the affection and
sympathy of his fellow-citizens, refusing any office
or place of authority.

But now an event occurred which was to make
this grieving patriot famous through all time, as the
favored of the gods and one of the noblest of men,
—the Washington of the far past. To tell how this
came about we must go back some distance in time.
Corinth, though it played no leading part in the wars

L.—s
274 HISTORICAL TALES.

of Greece, like Athens, Sparta, and Thebes, was still
a city of much importance, its situation on. the isth-
mus between the Peloponnesus and northern Greece
being excellent for commerce and maritime enter-
prise. Many years before it had sent out a colony
which founded the city of Syracuse, in Sicily. It
was in aid of this city of Syracuse that Timoleon
was called upon to act.

We have already told how Athens sought to cap-
ture this city and ruined herself in the enterprise.
After that time of triumph Syracuse passed through
several decades of terror and woe. Tyrants set
their feet on her fair neck, and almost crushed her
into the earth. One of these, Dionysius by name,
had made his power felt by far-off Greece and nearer
Carthage, and for years ruled over Sicily with a rod
of iron. His successor, Dion, a friend and pupil of
the philosopher Plato, became an oppressor when he
came into power. Then another Dionysius gained
the throne, a cowardly and drunken wretch, who
repeated the acts of his tyrannical father.

Such was the state of affairs in Sicily when Timo-
leon was dwelling quietly at home in Corinth, a man
of fifty, with no ambitious thought and no ruling
desire except to reach the end of his sorrow-laden
life. So odious now had the tyranny of Dionysius
become that the despairing Syracusans sent a pa-
thetic appeal to Corinth, their mother city, pray-
ing for aid against this brutal despot and the Car-
thaginians, who had invaded the island of Sicily in
force,

Corinth just then, fortunately, had no war on
TIMOLEON, THE FAVORITE OF FORTUNE. 275

hand,—a somewhat uncommon condition for a Greek
city at that day. The citizens voted at once to send
the aid asked for. But who should be the leader?
There were danger and difficulty in the enterprise,
with little hope for profit, and none of the Corinthian
generals or politicians seemed eager to lead this for-
lorn hope. The archons called out their names one
by one, but each in succession declined. The archons
had come nearly to their wits’ end whom to choose,
when, from an unknown voice in the assembly, came
the name “Timeleon.” The archons seized eagerly
on the suggestion, hastily chose Timoleon for the
post which all the leading men declined, and the
assembly adjourned.

Timoleon, who sadly needed some active exertion
to relieve him from the weight of eating thought,
accepted the thankless enterprise, heedless probably
of the result. He at once began to gather ships and
soldiers. But he found the Corinthians more ready
to select a commander than to provide him with
means and men. Little money was forthcoming;
few men seemed ready to enlist; Timoleon had no
great means of his own. In the end he only got
together seven triremes and one thousand men,—the
most of them mere mercenaries. Three more ships
and two hundred men were afterwards added.

And thus, with this small force, Timoleon set out
to conquer a city and kingdom on whose conquest
Athens, years before, had lavished hundreds of ships
and tens of thousands of men in vain. The effort
seemed utterly pucrile. Was the handful of Corin-
thians to succeed where all tho imperial power of
276 HISTORICAL TALES,

Athens had failed? Yet the gods fought with
Timoleon.

In truth, from the day he left Corinth, those pre-
sages of fortune, on which the Greeks so greatly
depended, gathered about his path across the seas.
The signs and tokens were all favorable. While he
was at Delphi, seeking the favor of Apollo, a fillet with
wreaths and symbols of victory fell from a statue
upon his head, and the goddess Persephone told her
priestess in a dream that she was about to sail with
Timoleon to Sicily, her favorite island. He took,
therefore, a special trireme, sacred to the goddesses
Demeter and Persephone, both of whom were to ac-
company him. While at sea this sacred trireme
was illumined by a light from heaven, while a burn-
ing torch on high seemed to guide the fleet to a safe
harbor. All these portents filled the adventurers
with hope and joy.

But Timoleon had himself to depend on as well as
the gods. At the Italian port of Rhegium he found
Hicetas, the despot of a Sicilian city, who had in-
vited him to Sicily, but was now allied with the
Carthaginians. He had there twenty of the war-
ships of Carthage, double the force of Timoleon.
Yet the shrewd Corinthian played with and tricked
him, set him to talking and the people of Rhegium
to talking with him, and slipped slyly out of the
harbor with his ships while the interminable talk
went on.

This successful stratagem redoubled the spirit
of his followers. Landing at a small town on the
Sicilian coast, a new enterprise presented itself.
TIMOLEON, THE FAVORITE OF FORTUNE, 277

Forty miles inland lay the town of Adranum, sacred
to the god Adranus, a deity worshipped throughout
Sicily. There were two parties in Adranum, one of
which invited Timoleon, the other Hicetas. The
latter at once started thither, with a force of five
thousand men, an army with which that of Timoleon
seemed too small to cope. But heedless of this dis-
crepancy Timoleon hastened thither, and on arriving
near the town perceived that the opposing army had
outstripped him in speed. Hicetas, not aware of the
approach of a foe, had encamped, and his men were
disarmed and at their suppers.

The small army of Timoleon, worn out with their
long and rapid march, and in sight of an enemy four
times their number, were loath to move farther ; but
their leader, who knew that his only chance for
victory lay in a surprise, urged them forward, seized
his shield and placed himself at their head, and led
them so suddenly on the foe that the latter, com-
pletely surprised, fled in utter panic. Three hun-
dred were killed, six hundred taken, and the rest,
abandoning their camp, hastened at all speed back to
Syracuse.

Again the gods spoke in favor of Timoleon. Just
as the battle began the gates of the temple of Adra-
nus burst open, and the god himself appeared with
brandished spear and perspiring face. So said the
awe-struck Adranians, and there was no one to con-
tradict their testimony.

Superstition came here to the adventurer’s aid.
The report of the god’s doings did as much as the
victory to add to the fame of Timoleon. Reinforce-

24
278 HISTORICAL TALES.

ments flocked to his ranks, and several towns sought
alliance with him. He now, with a large and confi-
dent army, marched to Syracuse, and defied his foe
to meet him in the field.

Hicetas was master of all Syracuse except the
istronghold of Ortygia, which was held by Dionysius,
and which Hicetas had blockaded by sea and land.
Timoleon had no means of capturing it, and as the
enemy would not come out from behind its walls, he
would soon have had to retire had not fortune again
helped her favorite son, and this time in an extraor-
dinary manner.

As it happened, Dionysius was growing short
of provisions, was beginning to despair of holding
Ortygia, and was withal a man of indolent and
drunken habits, without a tithe of his father's-spirit
and energy. He was like a fox driven to bay, and
having heard of the victory of Timoleon, it occurred
to him that he would be better off in yielding the
city to these Corinthians than losing it to his Sicilian
foe. All he wished was the promise of a safe asylum
and comfortable maintenance in the future. He
therefore agreed with Timoleon to surrender the
city, with the sole proviso that he should be taken
safely with his property to Corinth and given free-
dom of residence in that city. This Timoleon in-
stantly and gladly granted, the city was yielded, and
Dionysius passed into Timoleon’s camp with a few
companions.

We can imagine the astonishment of the people of
Corinth when a trireme came into their harbor with
tidings of the remarkable success of their towns-
TIMOLEON, THE FAVORITE OF FORTUNE. 279

man, and bearing as striking evidence the person of
the late tyrant of Sicily. Only fifty days had passed
since he left their city with his thousand men, and
already he had this extraordinary prize to show. At
once they voted him a reinforcement of two thou-
sand hoplites and five hundred cavalry, and willingly
granted the dethroned king a safe residence in their
city. In after years, so report says, Dionysius opened
a school there for teaching boys to read, and in-
structed the public singers in their art. Certainly
this was an innocent use to put a tyrant to.

Ortygia contained a garrison of two thousand
soldiers and vast quantities of military stores. ‘Timo-
leon, after taking possession, returned to Adranum,
leaving his lieutenant Neon in command. Soon
after—Hicetas having left Syracuse for the purpose
of cutting off Neon’s source of provisions—a sudden
sally was made, the blockading army taken by sur-
prise and driven back with loss, and another large
section of the city was added to Timoleon’s gains.

This success was quickly followed by another.
The reinforcement from Corinth had landed at
Thurii, on the east coast of Italy. The Carthaginian
admiral, thinking that they could not easily get
away from that place, sailed to Ortygia, where
he displayed Grecian shields and had his seamen
crowned with wreaths. He fancied that by these
signs of victory he would frighten the garrison into
Raerender, But the garrison were not so easily
scared; and meanwhile the Corinthian troops, tired
of Thurii, and not able to get away by sea, had left:
their ships and marched rapidly overland to the
280 HISTORICAL TALES,

narrow strait of Messina, that separated Italy from
Sicily. They found this unguarded,—the Carthagin-
ian ships being away on their mission of alarm to
Ortygia. And, by good fortune, several days of
stormy weather had been followed by a sudden and
complete calm, so that the Corinthians were enabled
to cross in fishing and other boats and reach Sicily
in safety. Thus by a new favor of fortune Timoleon
gained this valuable addition to his small army.

Timoleon now marched against Syracuse, where
fortune once more came to his aid. For Magon, the
Cathaginian admiral, had begun to doubt Hicetas,
He doubted him the more when he saw the men of
Timoleon and those of Hicetas engaged in fishing
for eels together in the marshy grounds between the
armies, and seemingly on very friendly terms. Think-
ing he was betrayed, he put all his troops on board
ship and sailed away for Africa.

It may well be imagined that Timoleon and his
men saw with surprise and joy this sudden flight of
the Carthaginian ships. With shouts of encourage-
ment they attacked the city on all sides. To their
astonishment scarcely any defence was made. In
fact, the army of Hicetas, many of them Greeks,
were largely in favor of Timoleon, while the talk of
the eel-catching soldiers in the marshes had won
many more over. As a result Timoleon took the
great city of Syracuse, on which the Athenians had
vainly sacrificed hundreds of ships and thousands of
men, without the loss of a single man, killed or
wounded.

Such a succession of astonishing favors of fortune
TIMOLEON, THE FAVORITE OF FORTUNE. 281

has rarely been seen in the world’s history. The news
flew through Sicily, Italy, and Greece, and awakened
wonder and admiration everywhere. Only a few
months had passed since Timoleon left Corinth, and
already, with very little loss, he was master of
Syracuse and of much of Sicily, and had sent the
dreaded Sicilian tyrant to dwell as a common citizen
in Corinth. His ability seemed remarkable, his for-
tune superhuman, and men believed that the gods
themselves had taken him under their especial
care.

And now came the temptation of power, to which
so many great men have fallen victims. Timoleon
had but to say the word and he would be despot of
Syracuse. Everybody looked for this as the next
move. In Ortygia rose the massive citadel within
which Dionysius had defied revolt or disaffection.
Timoleon had but to establish himself there and his
word would be the law throughout Syracuse, if not
throughout Sicily. What would he do?

What he proposed to do was quickly shown. He
proclaimed that this stronghold of tyranny should be
destroyed, and invited every Syracusan that loved
liberty to come with crowbar and hammer and join
in the work of levelling to the ground the home and
citadel of Dionysius. The astounded citizens could
scarcely believe their ears. What! destroy the
tyrant’s stronghold! Set Syracuse free! What
manner of man was this? With joyous acclaim
they gathered, and heaved and tugged until the
massive walls were torn stone from stone, and the
vast edifice levelled with the ground, while the time

24%
282 HISTORICAL TALES.

passed like a holiday, and songs of joy and triumph
made their work light.

The Bastile of Syracuse down, Timoleon ordered
that the materials should be used to build courts of
justice,—for justice was henceforth to replace despot-
ism in that tyrant-ridden city. But he had more to
do. So long had oppression and suffering lasted that
the city was half deserted and the very market-place
turned into a horse pasture. The same was the case
with other cities of Sicily. Even the fields were but
half cultivated. Ruin had swept over that fertile
island far and wide.

Timoleon now sent invitations everywhere, in-
viting exiles to return and new colonists to come
and people theisland. To make them sure that they
would not be oppressed, a new constitution was
formed, giving all the power to the people. The in-
vitation was accepted. From all quarters colonists
came, while ten thousand exiles and others sailed
from Corinth. In the end no fewer than sixty thou-
sand new citizens were added to Syracuse.

Meanwhile Timoleon put down the other despots
of Sicily and set the cities free. Hicetas, his old
enemy, was forced to give up his control of Leontini,
to which he had retired on the loss of Syracuse.
But the snake retained his venom. The Carthagin-
ians were furious at the flight of their fleet. Hicetas
stirred them up to another invasion of the liberated
island.

How long they were in preparing for this expe-
dition we do not know, but it was made on a large
scale. An army of seventy thousand men landed
TIMOLEON, THE FAVORITE OF FORTUNE. 283

on the western corner of the island, brought thither
by a fleet of two hundred triremes and one thousand
transports. In the army were ten thousand heavy
armed Carthaginians, who carried white shields and
wore elaborate breastplates. Among these were
many of the rich men of Carthage, who brought
with them costly baggage and rich articles of gold
and silver. Twenty-five hundred of them were called
the Sacred Band of Carthage. That great city had
rarely before made such a determined effort at
conquest.

Timoleon was not idle in the fuce of this great in-
vasion. But the whole army he could muster was
but twelve thousand strong, a pitable total to meet
80 powerful a foe. And as he marched to meet the
enemy distrust and fear marched in hisranks. Such
was the dread that one division of the army, one
thousand strong, mutinied and deserted, and it
needed all his personal influence to keep the rest
together.

Yet Timoleon had in him the spirit that commands
success. He pushed on with his disheartened force
until near the river Crimesus, beyond which was en-
camped the great army of Carthage. Some mules
laden with parsley met the Corinthians on the road.
Parsley was used for the wreaths laid on tombstones.
It seemed a fatal omen. But Timoleon, with the
quickness of genius, seized some of it, wove a wreath
for his head, and cried, “This is our Corinthian
symbol of victory: it is the sacred herb with which
we decorate the victors at the Isthmian festival. Its
coming signifies success.” With these encouraging
284 HISTORICAL TALES.

words he restored the spirits of the army, and led
them on to the top of the hill overlooking the
Crimesus.

It was a misty May morning. Nothing could be
- seen; but from the valley a loud noise and clatter
arose. The Carthaginians were on the march, and
had begun to cross the stream. Soon the mist rose
and the formidable host was seen. A multitude of
war-chariots, each drawn by four horses, had already
crossed. The ten thousand native Carthaginians,
bearing their white shields, were partly across. The
main body of the host was hastening in disorderly
march to the rugged banks of the stream.

Fortune had favored Timoleon again. If he
hoped for success this was the moment to attack.
The enemy was divided and in disorder. With
cheery words he bade his men to charge. The cav-
alry dashed on in front. Seizing a shield, Timoleon
sprang to the front and led on his footmen, rousing
them to activity by exultant words and bidding the
trumpets to sound. Rushing down the hill and
through the line of chariots, the charging mass
poured on the Carthaginian infantry. These fought
bravely and defied the Grecian spears with the
strength of their armor. The assailants had to take
to their swords, and try and hew their way through
the dense ranks of the foe.

The result was in serious doubt, when once more
the gods—as it seemed—came to Timoleon’s aid. A
violent storm suddenly arose. Darkness shrouded
the hilltops. The wind blewahurricane. Rain and
hail poured down in torrents, while the clouds flashed
TIMOLEON, THE FAVORITE OF. FORTUNE, 285

with lightning and roared with thunder. And all
this was on the backs of the Greeks; in the faces
of the Carthaginians. They could not hear the
orders of their officers. The ground became so muddy
that many of them slipped and fell: and once down
their heavy armor would not let them rise again.
The Greeks, driven forward by the wind, attacked
their foes with double energy. At length, blinded
by the driving storm, distracted by the furious as-
sault, and four hundred of their front ranks fallen,
the white shield battalion turned and fied.

But flight was not easy. They met their own
troops coming up. The stream had become suddenly
swollen with the rain. In the confused flight num-
bers were drowned. The panic spread from rank to
rank until the whole host was in total rout, flying
wildly over the hills, leaving their camp and baggage
to the victors, who pursued and slaughtered them in
thousands as they fled.

Such a complete victory had rarely been won.
Ten thousand Carthaginians were killed and fifteen
thousand made prisoners, their war-chariots were
captured, and the spoil found in the camp and on the
track of the flying army was prodigiously great.
As for the Sacred Band, it was annihilated. The
story is told that it was slain toaman. The broken
remnants of the flying army hastened to their ships,
which they were half afraid to enter, for fear the
gods that helped Timoleon would destroy them on
the seas. And thus was Sicily freed.

The thousand deserters who had left Timoleon’s
army on its march were ordered by him to leave
286 HISTORICAL TALES.

the island at once. They did so, crossed the Strait
of Messina, and took possession of a site in southern
Italy, where they were attacked by the people and
every man of them slain. As regards the concluding
events of our story, it will suffice to say that Timo-
leon had other fighting to do, with Carthaginians and
despots; but his wonderful fortune continued through-
out, and before long Sicily held not an enemy in arms.

And now came the greatest triumph of the Corin-
thian victor. One master alone remained in Sicily,—
himself. Despotic power was his had he said the
word. The people warmly requested him to retain
his control. But no; he had come to free them from
tyranny, and free they should be. He laid down at
once all his power, gave up the command of the
army, and went to live as a private citizen of Syra-
cuse, without office or power.

A single dominion yet remained to him,—that of
affection. The people worshipped him. His voice
was law. As he grew older his sight failed, until
he became totally blind. Yet still, when any diffi-
cult question arose, the people trusted to their
sightless benefactor to tell them what to do. On
such occasions Timoleon would be brought in his
car, drawn by mules across the market-place, and
then by attendants into the hall of assembly. Here,
still seated in his car, he would listen to the debate,
and in the end give his own opinion, which was
usually accepted by nearly the whole assembly. This
done, the car would be drawn out again amid shouts
and cheers, and the blind “father of his country”
return to his modest home.
TIMOLEON, THE FAVORITE OF FORTUNE. 287

Such liberty and prosperity as now ruled in Sicily
had not for a century been known, and when, three
or four years after the great victory of the Crimesus,
Timoleon suddenly died, the grief of the people was
universal and profound. His funeral obsequies were
splendidly celebrated at the public cost, his body was
burned on a vast funeral pile, and as the flames
flashed upward a herald proclaimed,—

“The Syracusan people solemnize, at the cost of
two hundred mine, the funeral of this man, the
Corinthian Timoleon, son of Timodemus. They
have passed a vote to honor him for all future time
with festival matches in music, horse and chariot
races, and gymnastics; because, after having put
down the despots, subdued the foreign enemy, and
recolonized the greatest among the ruined cities, he
restored to the Sicilian Greeks their constitution and
laws.”

And thus died one of the noblest and most success-
ful men the world has ever known. The fratricide
of his earlier years was for the good of mankind,
and his whole life was consecrated to the cause of
human liberty, while not a thought of self-aggran-
dizement seems to have ever disturbed his noble
soul.
THE SACRED WAR.

THERE were two places in Greece which had been
set aside as sacred,—Platea, the scene of the final
defeat of the Persian invaders, and Delphi, the seat
of the great temple of Apollo, in whose oracles all
Greece placed faith, We have already seen how
little the sacredness of Platea protected it from
ruin. We have next to see how the sacredness of
Delphi was contemned, and how all Greece suffered
in consequence.

The temple of Apollo at Delphi had long been held
so inviolate that it became a rich reservoir of treas-
ures, gathered throughout the centuries. Crcesus,
the rich king of Lydia, sent thither the overflow of
his wealth, and hundreds of others paid liberally for
the promises of the priestess, until the treasures of
Delphi became a by-word in Greece. This vast
wealth was felt to be safe. The god would protect
his own. Men’s voices were deep with awe when
they told how the wrath of Apollo had overthrown
the Persian robbers who sought to rifle his holy
fane. And yet the time came when a horde of ban-
dit Greeks made the temple their prey and the hand
of the god was not lifted in its defence, nor did out-
raged Greece rise to punish the sacrilegious robbers.
This is the tale that we have next to tell, that of the
so-called Sacred War, with all it meant to Greece.

288
THE SACRED WAR. 289

There was a great Greek council, centuries old,
called the Amphictyonic. It met twice every year,
usually for religious purposes, rarely for political.
But in the time we have now reached this Amphic-
tyonic Council ventured to meddle in politics, and
made mischief of the direst character. Its first
political act was to fine Sparta five hundred talents
for seizing the citadel of Thebes in times of peace.
The fine was to be doubled if not paid within a cer-
tain time. But as Sparta sneered at the fine, and
neither paid it nor its double, the action of the
council proved of little avail.

This was of small importance; it was to the next
act of the council that the mischief was due. The
people of the small state of Phocis, adjoining Delphi,
had been accused of cultivating a part of the Cir-
rhean plain, which was consecrated to Apollo. This
charge, like the former, was brought by Thebes, and
the Amphictyonic Council, having fined Sparta, now,
under Theban influence, laid a fine on the Phocians
so heavy that it was far beyond their means of pay-
ment. But Sparta had not paid; why should they?
The sentence troubled them little.

At the next meeting of the council severer meas-
ures were taken. Sparta was strong; Phocis weak.
It was resolved to seize all its territory and conse-
crate it to Apollo. This unjust sentence roused the
Phocians. <A bold citizen, Philomelus by name, told
them that they must now face war or ruin. The
district of Delphi had once been theirs, and had
been taken from them wrongfully. “Let us assert
our lost rights and scize the temple,” he said. “The

I.—N t 25
290 HISTORICAL TALES.

Thebans want it; let us anticipate them and take
back our own.”

His words took fire. A strong force was raised,
the town and temple were attacked, and both, being
practically undefended, were quickly captured. Pho-
cis had regained her own, for Delphi had been taken
from her during an older “Sacred War.”

Philomelus now announced that the temple and
its oracles would not be meddled with. Its treasures
would be safe. Visitors would be free to come and
go. He would give any security that Greece re-
quired that the wealth of Apollo should be safe and
all go on as before. But he fortified the town, and
invited mercenary soldiers till he had an army of
five thousand men. As for the priestess of Apollo,
from whose lips the oracles came, he demanded that
she should continue to be inspired as before, and
should give an oracle in his favor. The priestess
refused; whereupon he seized her and sought to
drag her to the holy tripod on which she was accus-
tomed to sit. The woman, scared by his violence,
cried out, “ You may do what you choose!”

Philomelus at once proclaimed this as an oracle in
his favor, and published it widely. And it is inter-
esting to learn that many of the superstitious Greeks
took his word for it. He certainly took the word of
the priestess,—for he did what he chose.

War at once began. Many of the Greek states
rose at the call of the contemned Amphictyonic
Council. The Phocians were in imminent peril.
They were far from strong enough for the war they
had invoked. Mercenary troops—“ soldiers of for-
THE SACRED WAR. 291

tune’—must be hired; and to hire them money
must be had. The citizens of Delphi had already
been taxed; the Phocian treasury was empty;
where was money to be obtained ?

Philomelus settled this question by borrowing, with
great reluctance, a sum from the temple treasures,—
to be paid back as soon as possible. But as the war
went on and more money was needed, he borrowed
again and again,—now without reluctance. And the
practice of robbery once started, he not only paid
his troops, but enriched his friends and adorned his
wife from Apollo’s hoarded wealth.

By this means Philomelus got together an army
of ten thousand men,—reckless, dissolute characters,
the impious scum of Greece, for no pious Greek
would enlist in such a cause. The war was fero-
cious. The allies put their prisoners to death. Phil-
omelus followed their example. This was a losing
game, and both sides gave it up. At length Philo-
melus and his army were caught in an awkward
position, the army was dispersed, and he driven to
the verge of a precipice, where he must choose be-
tween captivity or death. He chose the latter and
leaped from the beetling crags.

The Thebans and their allies foolishly believed that
with the death of Philomelus the war was at an end,
and marched for their homes. Onomarchus, another
Phocian leader, took the opportunity thus afforded to
gather the scattered army together again, seized the
temple once more, and stood in defiance of all his foes,

In addition to gold and silver, the treasury con-
tained many gifts in brass and iron. The precious
292 HISTORICAL TALES.

metals were melted and converted into money; of
the baser metals arms were made. Onomarchus
went farther than Philomelus; he not only paid his
troops with the treasure, but bribed the leaders of
Grecian states, and thus gained powerful friends.
He was soon successfully at war, drove back his
foes, and pressed his conquests till he had captured
Thermopyle and invaded Thessaly.

Here the Phocians came into contact with a foe
dangerous to themselves and to all Greece. This foe
was the celebrated Philip of Macedonia, a famous
soldier who was to play a leading part in the subse-
quent game. He had long been paving the way to
the conquest of Greece, and the Sacred War gave
him just the opportunity he wanted.

Macedonia lay north of Greece. Its people were
not Greeks, nor like Greeks in their customs. They
lived in the country, not in cities, and had little or
none of the culture of Greece. But they were the
stuff from which good soldiers are made. Hitherto
this country had been hardly thought of as an ele-
ment in the Grecian problem. Its kings were des-
pots who had been kept busy with their foes at home.
But now aking had arisen of wider views and larger
mould. Philip had spent his youth in Thebes, where
he had learned the art of war under Epaminondas.
On coming to the throne he quickly proved himself a
great soldier and a keen and cunning politician. By
dint of war and trickery he rapidly spread his domin-
ions until all his home foes were subdued, Macedonia
was greatly extended, and Thessaly, the most north-
ern state of Greece, was overrun.
THE SACRED WAR. 293

Therefore the invasion of Thessaly by the Phocians
brought them into contact with the Macedonians.
At first Onomarchus was successful. He won two
battles and drove Philip back to his native state.
But another large army was quickly in the field,
and this time the army of Onomarchus was utterly
beaten and himself slain. As for Philip, although
he probably cared not an iota for the Delphian god,
he shrewdly professed to be on a crusade against the
impious Phocians, and drowned all his prisoners as
guilty of sacrilege.

A third leader, Phayllus by name, now took com-
mand of the Phocians, and the temple of Apollo was
rifled still more freely than before. The splendid gifts
of King Croesus had not yet been touched. They
were held too precious to be meddled with. But
Phayllus did not hesitate to turn these into money.
One hundred and seventeen ingots of gold and three
hundred and sixty golden goblets went to the melt-
ing-pot, and with them a golden statue three cubits
high anda lion of the same precious metal. And
what added to the horror of pious Greece was that
much of the proceeds of these precious treasures
were lavished on favorites. The necklaces of Helen
and Eriphyle were given to dissolute women, and a
woman flute-player received a silver cup and a
golden wreath from the temple horde.

All this gave Philip of Macedonia the desired
pretence. He marched against the Phocians, who
held Thermopyle, while keeping his Athenian ene-
mies quiet by lies and bribes. The leader of the
Phocian garrison, finding that no aid came from

26%
294 HISTORICAL TALES.

the Athenian fleet, surrendered to Philip, and that
astute monarch won what he had long schemed for,
the Pass of Thermopyle, the Key of Greece.

The Sacred War was at an end, and with it
virtually the independence of Greece. Phocis was
in the hands of Philip, who professed more than
ever to be the defender and guardian of Apollo,
All the towns in Phocis were broken up into vil-
lages, and the inhabitants were ordered to be fined
ten talents annually till they had paid back all they
had stolen from the temple. Philip gave back the
temple to the Delphians, and was himself voted into
membership in the Amphictyonic assembly in place
of the discarded Phocians, And all this took place
while a treaty of peace tied the hands of the Greeks.
The Sacred War had served as a splendid pretext to
carry out the ambitious plans of the Macedonian king.

We have now a long story to tell in a few words.
Another people, the Locrians, had also made an in-
vasion on Delphian territory. The Amphictyonic
Council called on Philip to punish them. He at
once marched southward, but, instead of meddling
with the Locrians, seized and fortified a town in
Phocis. At once Athens, full of alarm, declared war,
and Philip was as quick to declare war in return.
Both sides sought the support of Thebes, and Athens
gained it. In August, 338 bB.c, the Grecian and
Macedonian armies met and fought a decisive battle
near Cheronea, a Beotian town. In this great con-
test Alexander the Great took part.

It was a hotly-contested fight, but in the end
Philip triumphed, and Greece was lost. Thebes was
THE SACRED WAR. 295

forced to yield. Athens, to regain the prisoners
held by Philip, acknowledged him to be the head
of Greece. All the other states did the same except
Sparta, which defied him. He ravaged Laconia, but
left the city untouched.

Two years afterwards Philip, lord and master of
Greece, was assassinated at the marriage feast of
his daughter. His son Alexander succeeded him.
Here seemed an opportunity for Greece to regain
her freedom. This untried young man could surely
not retain what his able father had won. Demos-
thenes, the celebrated orator, stirred up Athens
to revolt. Thebes sprang to arms and attacked the
Macedonian garrison in the citadel.

They did not know the man with whom they had
to deal, Alexander came upon Thebes like an ava-
lanche, took it by assault, and sold into slavery all
the inhabitants not slain in the assault. The city
was razed to the ground. This terrible example dis-
mayed the rest of Greece. Submission—with the
exception of that of Sparta—was universal. The
independence of Greece was at an end. More than
two thousand years were to pass before that country
would again be free.
ALEXANDER THE GREAT AND
DARTUS.

In the citadel of Gordium, an ancient town of
Phrygia in Asia Minor, was preserved an old wagon,
rudely built, and very primitive in structure. Tra.
dition said that it had originally belonged to the
peasant Gordius and his son Midas, rustic chiefs who
had been selected by the gods and chosen by the
people as the primitive kings of Phrygia. The cord
which attached the yoke of this wagon to the pole,
composed of fibres from the bark of the cornel-tree,
was tied into a knot so twisted and entangled that
it seemed as if the fingers of the gods themselves
must have tied it, so intricate was it and so impos-
sible, seemingly, to untie.

An oracle had declared that the man who should
untie this famous knot would become lord and
monarch of all Asia. As may well be imagined,
many ambitious men sought to perform the task,
> but all in vain. The Gordian knot remained tied
and Asia unconquered in the year 333 3.c., when
Alexander of Macedon, who the year before had in-
vaded Asia, and so far had swept all before him,
entered Gordium with his victorious army. As may
be surmised, it was not long before he sought the
citadel to view this ancient relic, which contained
within itself the promise of what he had set out to

296
ALEXANDER THE GREAT AND DARIUS. 297

accomplish. Numbers followed him, Phrygians and
Macedonians, curious to see if the subtle knot would
yield to his conquering hand, the Macedonians with
hope, the Phrygians with doubt.

While the multitude stood in silent and curious
expectation, Alexander closely examined the knot,
looking in vain for some beginning or end to its
complexity. The thing perplexed him. Was he
who had never yet failed in any undertaking to be
bafiled by this piece of rope, this twisted obstacle in
the way of success? At length, with that angry im-
patience which was a leading element in his charac-
ter, he drew his sword, and with one vigorous stroke
severed the cord in two.

At once a shout went up. The problem was
solved; the knot was severed; the genius of Alex-
ander had led him to the only means. He had made
good his title to the empire of Asia, and was hailed
as predestined conqueror by his admiring followers.
That night came a storm of thunder and lightning
which confirmed the belief, the superstitious Mace-
donians taking it as the testimony of the gods that
the oracle was fulfilled.

Had there been no Gordian knot and no oracle,
Alexander would probably have become lord of the
empire of Asia all the same, and this not only be-
cause he was the best general of his time and one of
the best generals of all time, but for two other excel-
lent reasons. One was that his father, Philip, had
bequeathed to him the best army of the age. The
Greeks had proved, nearly two centuries before, that
their military organization and skill were far superior
298 HISTORICAL TALES.

to those of the Persians. During the interval there
had been no progress in the army of Persia, while
Epaminondas had greatly improved the military art
in Greece, and Philip of Macedon, his pupil, had
made of the Macedonian army a fighting machine
such as the world had never before known. This
was the army which, with still further improve-
ments, Alexander was leading into Asia to meet the
multitudinous but poorly armed and disciplined Per-
sian host.

The second reason was that Alexander, while the
best captain of his age, had opposed to him the
worst. It was the misfortune of Persia that a new
king, Darius Codomannus by name, had just come to
the throne, and was to prove himself utterly inca-
pable of leading an army, unless it was to lead it in
flight. It was not only Alexander's great ability,
but his marvellous good fortune, which led to his
immense success,

The Persians had had a good general in Asia
Minor,—Memnon, a Greek of the island of Rhodes.
But just at this time this able leader died, and Darius
took the command on himself. He could hardly
have selected a man from his ranks who would not
have made a better commander-in-chief.

Gathering a vast army from his wide-spread do-
minions, a host six hundred thousand strong, the
Persian king marched to meet his foe. He brought
with him an enormous weight of baggage, there
being enough gold and silver alone to load six hun-
dred mules and three hundred camels; and so con-
fident was he of success that he also brought his
ALEXANDER THE GREAT AND DARIUS. 299

mother, wife, and children, and his whole harem,
that they might witness his triumph over the inso-
lent Macedonian.

Darius took no steps to guard any of the passes
of Asia Minor. Why should he seek to keep back
this foe, who was marching blindly to his fate? But
instead of waiting for Alexander on the plain, where
he could have made use of his vast force, he marched
into the defile of Issus, where there was only a mile
and a half of open ground between the mountains
and the sea, and where his vanguard alone could be
brought into action. In this defile the two armies
met, the fighting part of each being, through the
folly of the Persian king, not greatly different in
numbers.

The blunder of Darius was soon made fatal by his
abject cowardice. The Macedonians having made a
sudden assault on the Persian left wing, it gave way
and fled. Darius, who was in his chariot in the
centre, seeing himself in danger from this flight,
suddenly lost his over-confidence, and in a panic of
terror turned his chariot and fled with wild haste
from the field. When he reached ground over which
the chariot could not pass, he mounted hastily on
horseback, flung from him his bow, shield, and royal
mantle, and rode in mortal terror away, not having
given a single order or made the slightest effort to
rally his flying troops.

Darius had been sole commander, His flight left
the great army without a loader. Not a man re-
mained who could give a general order. Those who
saw him flying were infected with his terror and
300 HISTORICAL TALES.

turned to flee also. The vast host in the rear
trampled one another down in their wild haste to
get beyond the enemy’s reach. The Macedonians
must have looked on in amazement. The battle—or
what ought to have been a battle—was over before
it had fairly begun. The Persian right wing, in
which was a body of Greeks, made a hard fight;
but these Greeks, on finding that the king had fled, ©
marched in good order away. The Persian cavalry,
also, fought bravely until they heard that the king
had disappeared, when they also turned to fly.
Never had so great a host been so quickly routed,
and all through the cowardice of a man who was
better fitted by nature to turn a spit than to com-
mand an army.

But Alexander was not the man to let his enemy
escape unscathed. His pursuit was vigorous. The
slaughter of the fugitives was frightful. Thousands
were trodden to death in the narrow and broken
pass. The camp and the family of Darius were
taken, together with a great treasure in coin. The
slain in all numbered more than one hundred thou-
sand,

The panic flight of Darius and his utter lack of
ability did more than lose him a battle: it lost him
an empire. Never was there a battle with more
complete and great results. During the next two
years Alexander went to work to conquer western
Persia. Most of the cities yielded to him. Tyre re-
sisted, and was taken and destroyed. Gaza, another
strong city, was captured and its defenders slain.
These two cities, which it took nine months to cap-
 

 

THE DEATH OF ALEXANDER THE GREAT.
ALEXANDER THE GREAT AND DARIUS. 301

ture, gave Alexander the hardest fighting he ever
had. He marched from Gaza to Egypt, which fell
without resistance into his hands, and where he built
the great city of Alexandria, the only existing me-
mento of his name and deeds. Thence he marched
to the Euphrates, wondering where Darius was and
what he meant to do. Nearly two years had passed
since the battle of Issus, and the kingly poltroon had
apparently contented himself with writing letters
begging Alexander to restore his family. But Alex-
ander knew too well what a treasure he held to
consent. If Darius would acknowledge him as his
lord and master he could have back his wife and
children, but not otherwise.

Finding that all this was useless, Darius began to
collect another army. He now got together a vaster
host than before. It was said to contain one million
infantry, forty thousand cavalry, and two hundred
chariots, each of which had a projecting pole with a
sharp point, while three sword-blades stood out from
the yoke on either side, and scythes projected from
the naves of the wheels. Darius probably expected
to mow down the Macedonians in swaths with these
formidable implements of war.

The army which Alexander marched against this
mighty host consisted of forty thousand foot and
seven thousand horse. It looked like the extreme
of foolhardiness, like a pigmy advancing against a
giant; yet Darius commanded one army, Alexander
the other, and Issus had not been forgotten.

The affair, in fact, proved but a repetition of that
at Issus. The chariots, on which Darius had counted

26
302 HISTORICAL TALES.

to break the enemy’s line, proved useless. Some of
the horses were killed; others refused to face the
Macedonian pikes; some were scared by the noise
and turned back; the few that reached the Greek
lines found the ranks opened to let them pass.

The chariots thus disposed of, the whole Mace-
donian line charged. Alexander, at the head of his
cavalry, pushed straight for the person of Darius.
He could not get near the king, who was well pro-
tected, but he got near enough to fill his dastard
soul with terror. The sight of the serried ranks of
the Macedonian phalanx, the terrific noise of their
war-cries, the failure of the chariots, all combined to
destroy his late confidence and replace it by dread.
As at Issus, he suddenly had his chariot turned
round and rushed from the field in full flight.

His attendants followed. The troops around him,
the best in the army, gave way. Soon the field was
dense with fugitives. So thick was the cloud of
dust raised by the flying multitude that nothing
could be seen. Amid the darkness were heard a
wild clamor of voices and the noise of the whips
of the charioteers as they urged their horses to
speed. The cloud of dust alone saved Darius from
capture by the pursuing horsemen. The left of
the Persian army fought bravely, but at length it
too gave way. Hverything was captured,—camp,
treasure, the king’s equipage, everything but the
king himself. How many were killed and taken is
not known, but the army, as an army, ceased to
exist. As at Issus, so at Arbela, it was so miserably
managed that three-fourths of it had nothing what-
ALEXANDER THE GREAT AND DARIUS. 303

ever to do with the battle. Its dispersal ended the
Persian resistance; the empire was surrendered to
Alexander almost without another blow.

Great a soldier as Alexander unquestionably was,
he was remarkably favored by fortune, and won the
greatest empire the world had up to that time
known with hardly an effort, and with less loss of
men than often takes place in a single battle. The
treasure gained was immense. Darius seemed to
have been heaping up wealth for his conqueror.
Babylon and Susa, the two great capitals of the
Persian empire, contained vast accumulations of
money, part of which was used to enrich the soldiers
of the victorious army. At Persepolis, the capital
of ancient Persia, a still greater treasure was found,
amounting to one hundred and twenty thousand
talents in gold and silver, or about one hundred and
twenty-five million dollars. It took five thousand
camels and a host of mules to transport the treasure
away. The cruel conqueror rewarded the Persians
for this immense gift, kept through generations for
his hands, by burning the city and slaughtering its
inhabitants, in revenge, as he declared, for the harm
which Xerxes had done to Greece a century and a
half before.

What followed must be told in a few words. The
conqueror did not feel that his work was finished
while Darius remained free. The dethroned king
was flying eastward to Bactria. Alexander pursued
him with such speed that many of his men and ani-
mals fell dead on the road. He overtook him at last,
but did not capture him, as the companions of the
304 HISTORICAL TALES.

Persian king killed him and left only his dead body
to the victor’s hands.

For years afterwards Alexander was occupied in
war, subduing the eastern part of the empire, and
marching into India, where he conquered all before
him. War, incessant war, was all he cared for. No
tribe or nation he met was able to stand against his
army. In all his career he never met a reverse in
the field. He was as daring as Darius had been
cowardly, exposed his life freely, and was more than
once seriously wounded, but recovered quickly from
his hurts.

At length, after eleven years of almost incessant
war, the conqueror returned to Babylon, and here,
while preparing for new wars in Arabia and else-
where, indulged with reckless freedom in that intox-
ication which was his principal form of relaxation
from warlike schemes and duties. As a result he
was seized with fever, and in a week’s time died, just
at the time he had fixed to set out with army and
fleet on another great career of conquest. It was
in June, 323 B.c., in his thirty-third year. He had
reigned only twelve years and eight months,
THE WORLD'S GREATEST
ORATOR.

Durine the days of the decline of Athens, the
centre of thought to Greece, there roamed about
the streets of that city a delicate, sickly lad, so
feeble in frame that, at his mother’s wish, he kept
away from the gymnasium, lest the severe exer-
cises there required should do him more harm than
good. His delicate clothing and effeminate habits
were derided by his playmates, who nicknamed him
Batalus, after, we are told, a spindle-shanked fiute-
player. We do not know, however, just what Ba-
talus means.

As the boy was not fit for vigorous exercise, and
never likely to make a hardy soldier or sailor, it be-
came a question for what he was best fitted. If the
body could not be exercised, the mind might be. At
that time Athens had its famous schools of philoso-
phy and rhetoric, and the art of oratory was dili-
gently cultivated. It is interesting to know that
outside of Athens Greece produced no orators, if we
except Hpaminondas of Thebes. The Boeotians, who
dwelt north of Attica, were looked upon as dull-
brained and thick-witted. The Spartans prided
themselves on their few words and hard blows.

I.—u 26* 305
306 HISTORICAL TALES,

The Athenians, on the contrary, were enthusiasti-
cally fond of oratory, and ardently cultivated fluency
of speech. It was by this art that Themistocles kept
the fleet together for the great battle of Salamis. It
was by this art that Pericles so long held control of
Athens. The sophists, the philosophers, the leaders
of the assembly, were all adepts in the art of con-
vincing by eloquence and argument, and oratory
progressed until, in the later days of Grecian free-
dom, Athens possessed a group of public speakers
who have never been surpassed, if equalled, in the
history of the world.

It was the orators who particularly attracted the
weakly lad, whose mind was as active as his body
was feeble. He studied grammar and rhetoric, as
did the sons of wealthy Athenians in general. And
while still a mere boy he begged his tutors to take
him to hear Callistratus, an able public speaker, who
was to deliver an oration on some weighty political
subject. The speech, delivered with all the elo-
quence of manner and logic of thought which
marked the leading orators of that day, deeply im-
pressed the susceptible mind of the eager lad, who
went away doubtless determining in his own mind
that he would one day, too, move the world with
eloquent and convincing speech.

As he grew older there arose a special reason why
he should become able to speak for himself. His
father, who was also named Demosthenes, had been
arich man. He was a manufacturer of swords or
knives, in which he employed thirty-two slaves; and
also had a couch or bed factory, employing twenty
THE WORLD'S GREATEST ORATOR. 307

more. His mother was the daughter of a rich corn-
dealer of the Bosphorus.

The father died when his son was seven years old,
leaving his estate in the care of three guardians.
These were rich men, and relatives and friends,
whom he thought he could safely trust; the more
so as he left them legacies in his will. Yet they
proved rogues, and when Demosthenes became six-
teen years of age—which made him a man under
the civil law of Athens—he found that the guardians
had made way with nearly the whole of his estate.
Of fourteen talents bequeathed him there were less
than two left. The boy complained and remon-
strated in vain. The guardians declared that the
will was lost; their accounts were plainly fraudu-
lent; they evidently proposed to rob their ward of
his patrimony.

This may seem to us to have been a great misfor-
tune. It was, on the contrary, the greatest good
fortune. It forced Demosthenes to become an orator.
Though he never recovered his estate, he gained a
fame that was of infinitely greater value. The law
of Athens required that every plaintiff should plead
his own cause, either in person or by a deputy speak-
ing his words. Demosthenes felt that he must bring
suit or consent to be robbed. That art of oratory,
towards which he had so strong an inclination, now
became doubly important. He must learn how to
plead eloquently before the courts, or remain the poor
vietim of a party of rogues. This determined the
young student of rhetoric. He would make himself
an orator.
308 HISTORICAL TALES.

He at once began an energetic course of study.
There were then two famous teachers of oratory in
Athens, Isocrates and Iseus. The school of Isocra-
tes was famous, and his prices very high. The
young man, with whom money was scarce, offered
him a fifth of his price for a fifth of his course, but
Isocrates replied that his art, like a good fish, must
be sold entire. He then turned to Iszeus, who was
the greatest legal pleader of the period, and studied
under him until he felt competent to plead his own
case before the courts.

Demosthenes soon found that he had mistaken
his powers. His argument was formal and long-
winded. His uncouth style roused the ridicule of
his hearers. His voice was weak, his breath short,
his manner disconnected, his utterance confused.
His pronunciation was stammering and ineffective,
and in the end he withdrew from the court, hopeless
and disheartened.

Fortunately, his feeble effort had been heard by a
friend who was a distinguished actor, and was able
to tell Demosthenes what he lacked. “You must
study the art of graceful gesture and clear and dis-
tinct utterance,” he said. In illustration, he asked
the would-be orator to speak some passages from the
poets Sophocles and Euripides, and then recited
them himself, to show how they should be spoken.
He succeeded in this way in arousing the boy to new
‘and greater efforts. Nature, Demosthenes felt, had
not meant him for an orator. But art can some-
times overcome nature. Energy, perseverance, de-
termination, were necessary. These he had. He
THE WORLD'S GREATEST ORATOR. 809

went earnestly to work; and the story of how he
worked and what he achieved should be a lesson for
all future students of art or science.

There were two things todo. He must both write
well and speak well. Delivery is only half the art,
Something worth delivering is equally necessary.
He read the works of Thucydides, the great his-
torian, so carefully that he was able to write them
all out from memory after an accident had destroyed
the manuscript. Some say he wrote them out eight
separate times. He attended the teachings of Plato,
the celebrated philosopher. The repulse of Isocrates
did not keep the ardent student from his classes.
His naturally capable mind became filled with all
that Greece had to give in the line of logical and
rhetorical thought. He not only read but wrote.
He prepared orations for delivery in the law courts
for the use of others, and in this way eked out his
small income.

In these ways he cultivated his mind. That was
the lightest task. He had a great mind to begin
with. But he had a weak and incapable body. If
he would succeed that must be cultivated too.
There was his lisping and stammering voice, his
short breath, his low tones, his ungraceful gesture,—
all to be overcome. How he did it is a remarkable
example of what may be done in self-education.

To overcome his stammering utterance he accus-,
tomed himself to speak with pebbles in his mouth.
His lack of vocal strength he overcame by running
with open mouth, thus expanding his lungs. To
cure his shortness of breath he practised the utter-
310 HISTORICAL TALES,

ing of long sentences while walking rapidly up-hill.
That he might be able to make himself heard above
the noise of the assembly, he would stand in stormy
weather on the sea-shore at Phalerum, and declaim
against the roar of the waves. For two or three
months together he practised writing and speaking,
day and night, in an underground chamber; and
that he might not be tempted to go abroad and
neglect his studies he shaved the hair from one side
of his head. Dread of ridicule kept him in till his
hair had grown again. To gaina graceful action, he
would practise for hours before a tall mirror, watch-
ing all his movements, and constantly seeking to
improve them.

Several years passed away in this hard and per-
sistent labor. He tried public speaking again and
again, each time discouraged, but each time improv-
ing,—and finally gained complete success. His voice
became strong and clear, his manner graceful, his
delivery emphatic and decisive, the language of his
orations full of clear logic, strong statement, cutting
irony, and vigorous declamation, fluent, earnest, and
convincing. In brief, it may be said that he made
himself the greatest orator of Greece, which is equal
to saying the greatest orator of the world.

It was not only in delivery that he was great.
His speeches were as convincing when read as when
spoken. Fortunately, the great orators of those
days prepared their speeches very carefully before
delivery, and so it is that some of the best of the
speeches of Demosthenes have come down to us and
can be read by ourselves. The voice of the whole
THE WORLD'S GREATEST ORATOR. 311

world pronounces these orations admirable, and they
have been studied by every great orator since that
day.

Demosthenes had a great theme for his orations.
He entered public life at a critical period. The
states of Greece had become miserably weak and
divided by their jealousies and intrigues. Philip of
Macedon, the craftiest and ablest leader of his time,
was seeking to make Greece his prey, and using
gold, artifice, and violence alike to enable him to
succeed in this design. Against this man Demos-
thenes raised his voice, thundering his unequalled
denunciations before the assembly of Athens, and
doing his utmost to rouse the people to the defence
of their liberties. Philip had as his advocate an
orator only second to Demosthenes in power, Auschi-
nes by name, whom he had secretly bribed, and who
opposed his great rival by every means in his power.
For years the strife of oratory and diplomacy went.
on. Demosthenes, with remarkable clearness of
vision, saw the meaning of every movement of the
cunning Macedonian, and warned the Athenians in
orations that should have moved any liberty-loving
people to instant and decisive action. But he talked.
to a weak audience. Athens had lost its old energy
and public virtue. It could still listen with lapsed
breath to the earnest appeals of the orator, but had
grown slow and vacillating in action. /lischines had
a strong party at his back, and Athens procrastinated
until it was too late and the liberties of ancient:
Greece fell, never to rise again, on the fatal field of
Cheeronea.
312 HISTORICAL TALES.

“If Philip is the friend of Greece we are doing
wrong,” Demosthenes had cried. “If he is the
enemy of Greece we are doing right. Which is
he? I hold him to be our enemy, because every-
thing he has hitherto done has benefited him and
hurt us.”

The fall of Greece before the sword of its foe
taught the Athenians that their orator was right.
They at length learned to esteem Demosthenes at
his full worth, and Ctesiphon, a leading Athenian,
proposed that he should receive a golden crown from
the state, and that his extraordinary merit and
patriotism should be proclaimed in the theatre at the
great festival of Dionysus.

Alischines declared that this was unconstitutional,
and that he would bring action against Ctesiphon for
breaking the laws. For six years the case remained
untried, and then Aischines was forced to bring his
suit. He did so in a powerful speech, in which he
made a bitter attack on the whole public life of De-
mosthenes. When he ceased, Demosthenes rose, and
in a speech which is looked upon as the most splendid
master-piece of oratory ever produced, completely
overwhelmed his life-long opponent, who left Athens
in disgust. The golden crown, which Demosthenes
had so nobly won, was his, and was doubly deserved
by the immortal oration to which it gave birth, the
grand burst of eloquence “ For the Crown.”

In 323 B.c, Alexander the Great died. Then like a
trumpet rang out the voice of Demosthenes, calling
Greece to arms. Greece obeyed him and rose. If
she would be free, now or never was the time. The
THE WORLD’S GREATEST ORATOR. 313

war known as the Lamian war began. It ended dis-
astrously in August, 322, and Greece was again a
Macedonian slave. Demosthenes and others of the
patriots were condemned to death as traitors, They
fied for their lives. Demosthenes sought the island
of Calauri, where he took refuge in a temple sacred
to Poseidon, or Neptune. Thither his foes, led by
Archias, formerly a tragic actor, followed him.

Archias was not the man to hesitate about sacri-
lege. But the temple in which Demosthenes had
taken refuge was so ancient and venerable that even
he hesitated, and begged him to come out, saying
that there was no doubt that he would be pardoned.

Demosthenes sat in silence, his eyes fixed on the
ground. At length, as Archias continued his ap-
peals, in his most persuasive accents, the orator
looked up and said,—

“Archias, you never moved me by your acting.
You will not move me now by your promises.”

At this Archias lost his temper, and broke into
threats.

“Now you speak like a real Macedonian oracle,”
said Demosthenes, calmly. “Before you were act-
ing. Wait a moment, then, till I write to my
friends.”

With these words Demosthenes rose and walked
back to the inner part of the temple, though he was
still visible from the front. Here he took out a roll
of paper and a quill pen, which he put in his mouth
and bit, as he was in the habit of doing when com-
posing. Then he threw his head back and drew his
cloak over it.

0 27
314 HISTORICAL TALES.

The Thracian soldiers, who followed Archias, began
to gibe at his cowardice on seeing this movement.
Archias went in, renewed his persuasions, and begged
him to rise, as there was no doubt that he would be
well treated. Demosthenes sat in silence until he
felt in his veins the working of the poison he had
sucked from the pen. Then he drew the cloak from
his face and looked at Archias with steady eyes.

“Now,” he said, “you can play the part of Creon
in the tragedy as soon as you like, and cast forth my
body unburied. But I, O gracious Poseidon, quit thy
temple while I yet live. Antipater and his Macedo-
nians have done what they could to pollute it.”

He walked towards the door, calling on those sur-
rounding to support his steps, which tottered with
weakness. He had just passed the altar of the god,
when, with a groan, he fell, and died in the presence
of his foes.

So died, when sixty-two years of age, the greatest
orator, and one of the greatest patriots and states-
men, of ancient times——a man whose fame as an
orator is as great as that of Homer as a poet, while
in foresight, judgment, and political skill he had not
his equal in the Greece of his day. Had Athens
possessed any of its old vitality he would certainly
have awakened it to a new career of glory. As it
was, even one as great as he was unable to give new
life to that corpse of a nation which his country had
become.
THE OLYMPIC GAMES.

Tue recent activity of athletic sports in this
country is in a large sense a regrowth from the
ancient devotion to out-door exercises. In this direc-
tion Greece, as also in its republican institutions,
served as a model for the United States. The close re-
lations between the athletics of ancient and modern
times was gracefully called to attention by the re-
production of the Olympic Games at Athens in 1896,
for which purpose the long abandoned and ruined
Stadion, or foot-race course, of that city was re-
stored, and races and other athletic events were con-
ducted on the ground made classic by the Athenian
athletes, and within a marble-seated amphitheatre
in which the plaudits of Athens in its days of glory
might in fancy still be heard.

These modern games, however, differ in character
from those of the past, and are attended with none
of the deeply religious sentiment which attached to
the latter. Tho games of ancient Greece were
national in character, were looked upon as occasions
of the highest importance, and were invested with
a solemnity largely due to their ancient institution
and long-continued observance. Their purpose was
not alone friendly rivalry, as in modern times, but

was largely that of preparation for war, bodily ac-
815
316 HISTORICAL TALES.

tivity and endurance being highly essential in the
hand to hand conflicts of the ancient world. They
were designed to cultivate courage and create a
martial spirit, to promote contempt for pain and
fearlessness in danger, to develop patriotism and
public spirit, and in every way to prepare the con-
testants for the wars which were, unhappily, far too
common in ancient Greece.

Each city had its costly edifices devoted to this
purpose. The Stadion at Athens, within whose
restored walls the modern games took place, was
about six hundred and fifty feet long and one hun-
dred and twenty-five wide, the race-course itself
being six hundred Greek feet—a trifle shorter than
English feet—in length. Other cities were similarly
provided, and gymnastic exercises were absolute re-
quirements of the youth of Greece,—particularly so
in the case of Sparta, in which city athletic exercises
formed almost the sole occupation of the male pop-
ulation.

But the Olympic Games meant more than this.
They were not national, but international festivals,
at whose celebration gathered multitudes from all
the countries of Greece, those who desired being free
to come to and depart from Olympia, however
fiercely war might be raging between the leading
nations of the land. When the Olympic Games be-
gan is not known. Their origin lay far back in the
shadows of time. Several peoples of Greece claimed
to have instituted such games, but those which in
later times became famous were held at Olympia, a
town of the small country of Hlis, in the Peloponne-
THE OLYMPIC GAMES. 317

sian peninsula. Here, in the fertile valley of the
Alpheus, shut in by the Messenian hills and by Mount
Cronion, was erected the ancient Stadion, and in its
vicinity stood a great gymnasium, a palestra (for
wrestling and boxing exercises), a hippodrome (for
the later chariot races), a council hall, and several
temples, notably that of the Olympian Zeus, where
the victors received the olive wreaths which were the
highly valued prizes for the contests.

This temple held the famous colossal statue of
Zeus, the noblest production of Greek art, and looked
upon as one of the wonders of the world. It was
the work of Phidias, the greatest of Grecian sculp-
tors, and was a seated statue of gold and ivory, over
forty feet in height. The throne of the king of
the gods was mostly of ebony and ivory, inlaid with
precious stones, and richly sculptured in relief. In
the figure, the flesh was of ivory, the drapery of
gold richly adorned with flowers and figures in
enamel. The right hand of the god held aloft a
figure of victory, the left hand rested on a scepitre,
on which an eagle was perched, while an olive wreath
crowned the head. On the countenance dwelt a
calm and serious majesty which it needed the genius
of a Phidias to produce, and which the visitors to
the temple beheld with awe.

The Olympic festival, whose date of origin, as has
been said, is unknown, was revived in the year 884
B.c., and continued until the year 394 a.p., when it
was finally abolished, only to be revived at the city
of Athens fifteen hundred years later. The games
were celebrated after the completion of every fourth

27*
318 HISTORICAL TALES.

year, this four year period being called an “ Olym-
piad,” and used as the basis of the chronology of
Greece, the first Olympiad dating from the revival
of the games in 884 Bo.

These games at first lasted but a single day, but
were extended until they occupied five days. Of
these the first day was devoted to sacrifices, the
three following days to the contests, and the last day
to sacrifices, processions, and banquets. For a long
period single foot-races satisfied the desires of the
Eleans and their visitors. Then the double foot-race
was added. Wrestling and other athletic exercises
were introduced in the eighth century before Christ.
Then followed boxing. This was a brutal and dan-
gerous exercise, the combatants’ hands being bound
with heavy leather thongs which were made more
rigid by pieces of metal. The four-horse chariot-
race came later; afterwards the pancratium (wrest-
ling and boxing, without the leaded thongs); boys’
races and wrestling and boxing matches; foot-races
in a full suit of armor; and in the fifth century, two-
horse chariot-races. Nero, in the year 68 a.D., in-
troduced musical contests, and the games were finally
abolished by Theodosius, the Christian emperor, in
the year 394 a.p.

Olympia was not a city or town. It was simply
a plain in the district of Pisatis. But it was so
surrounded with magnificent temples and other
structures, so adorned with statues, and so abun-
dantly provided with the edifices necessary to the
games, that it in time grew into a locality of remark-
able architectural beauty and grandeur. Here was
THE OLYMPIC GAMES. 319

the sacred grove of Altis, where grew the wild olive
which furnished the wreaths for the victors, a
simple olive wreath forming the ordinary prize of
victory; in the four great games the victor was pre-
sented with a palm branch, which he carried in
his right hand. Near this grove was the Hippo-
drome, where the chariot-races took place. The
great Stadion stood outside the temple enclosure,
where lay the most advantageous stretch of ground.

The training required for participants in these
sacred games was severe. No one was allowed to
take part unless he had trained in the gymnasium
for ten months in advance. No criminal, nor person
with any blood impurity, could compete, a mere
pimple on the body being sufficient to rule a man
out. In short, only perfect and completely trained
specimens of manhood were ‘admitted to the lists,
while the fathers and relatives of a contestant were
required to swear that they would use no artifice or
unfair means to aid their relative to a victory. The
greatest care was also taken to select judges whose
character was above even the possibility of bribery.

Women were not permitted to appear at the games,
and whoever disobeyed this law was to be thrown
from a rock. On certain occasions, however, their
presence was permitted, and there were a series of
games and races in which young girls took part. In
time it became the custom to diversify the games
with dramas, and to exhibit the works of artists,
while poets recited their latest odes, and other
writers read their works. Here Herodotus read his
famous history to the vast assemblage.
320 HISTORICAL TALES.

Victory in these contests was esteemed the highest
of honors. When the victor was crowned, the
heralds loudly proclaimed his name, with those of
his father and his city or native land. He was also
privileged to erect a statue in honor of his triumph
at a particular place in the sacred Altis. This was
done by many of the richer victors, while the win-
ners in the chariot-races often had not only their
own figures, but those of their chariots and horses,
reproduced in bronze.

In addition to the Olympic, Greece possessed other
games which, like the former, were of great popu-
larity, and attracted crowds from all parts of the
country. The principal among these were the Pyth-
ian, Nemean and Isthmian games, though there
were various others of lessimportance. Of them all,
however, the Olympic games were much the older
and more venerated, and in the laws of Solon every
Athenian who won an Olympic prize was given the
large reward of five hundred drachmas, while an
Isthmiac prize brought but one hundred drachmas.

On several occasions the Olympic games became
occasions of great historical interest. One of these
was the ninetieth Olympiad, of 420 B.c., which took
place during the peace between Athens and Sparta,—
in the Peloponnesian war, Athens having been ex-
cluded from the two preceding ones. It was sup-
posed that the impoverishment of Athens would
prevent her from appearing with any splendor at
this festival, but that city astonished Greece by her
ample show of golden ewers, censers, etc., in the
sacrifice and procession, while in the chariot-races
THE OLYMPIC GAMES. 321

Alcibiades far distanced all competitors. One well-
equipped chariot and four usually satisfied the thirst
for display of a rich Greek, but he appeared with no
less than seven, while his horses were of so superior
power that one of his chariots won a first, another a
second, and another a fourth prize, and he had the
honor of being twice crowned with olive. In the
banquet with which he celebrated his triumph he
surpassed the richest of his competitors by the rich-
ness and splendor of the display.

On the occasion of the one hundred and fourth
Olympiad, war existing between Arcadia and Klis,
a combat took place in the sacred ground itself, an
unholy struggle which dishonored the sanctuary of
Pan-hellenic brotherhood, and caused the great tem-
ple of Zeus to be turned into a fortress against the
assailants. During this war the Arcadians plundered
the treasures of these holy temples, as those of the
temple at Delphi were plundered at a later date.

Another occasion of interest in the Olympic games
occurred in the ninety-ninth Olympiad, when Diony-
sius, the tyrant of Sicily, sent his legation to the
sacrifice, dressed in the richest garments, abundantly
furnished with gold and silver plate, and lodged in
splendid tents. Several chariots contended for him
in the races, while a number of trained reciters and
chorists were sent to exhibit his poetical composi-
tions before those who would listen to them. His
chariots were magnificent, his horses of the rarest
excellence, the delivery of his poems eloquently per-
formed ; but among those present were many of the
sufferers by his tyranny, and the display ended in

L—v
322 HISTORICAL TALES.

the plundering of his gold and purple tent, and the
disgraceful lack of success of his chariots, some of
which were overturned and broken to pieces. As
for the poems, they were received with a ridicule
which caused the deepest humiliation and shame to
their proud composer.

The people of Greece, and particularly those of
Athens, did not, however, restrict their public enjoy-
ments to athletic exercises. . Abundant provision for
intellectual enjoyment was afforded. They were not
readers. Books were beyond the reach of the mul-
titude. But the loss was largely made up to them
by the public recitals of poetry and history, the
speeches of the great orators, and in particular the
dramatic performances, which were annually ex-
hibited before all the citizens of Athens who chose
to attend.

The stage on which these dramas were performed,
at first a mere platform, then a wooden edifice, be-
came finally a splendid theatre, wrought in the
sloping side of the Acropolis, and presenting a vast
semicircle of seats, cut into the solid rock, rising tier
above, tier, and capable of accommodating thirty
thousand spectators. At first no charge was made
for admission, and when, later, the crowd became so
great that a charge had to be made, every citizen of
Athens who desired to attend, and could not afford
to pay, was presented from the public treasury with
the price of one of the less desirable seats.

Annually, at the festivals of Dionysius, or Bacchus,
and particularly at the great Dionysia, held at the
end of March and beginning of April, great tragic
 

THE THEATRE OF BACCHUS, ATHENS.
THE OLYMPIC GAMES. 323

contests were held, lasting for two days, during
which the immense theatre was filled with crowds
of eager spectators. A play seldom lasted more than
an hour and a half, but three on the same general
subject, called a trilogy, were often presented in
succession, and were frequently followed by a comic
piece from the same poet. That the actors might be
heard by the vast open-air audiences, some means
of increasing the power of the voice was employed,
while masks were worn to increase the apparent size
of the head, and thick-soled shoes to add to the
height.

The chorus was a distinctive feature of these
dramas,—tragedies and comedies alike. As there
were never more than three actors upon the stage,
the chorus—twelve to fifteen in number—represented
other characters, and often took part in the action
of the play, though their duty was usually to diver-
sify the movement of the play by hymns and dirges,
appropriate dances, and the music of flutes. For
centuries these dramatic representations continued
at Athens, and formed the basis of those which
proved so attractive to Roman audiences, and which
in turn became the foundation-stones of the modern
drama,
PYRRHUS AND THE ROMANS.

SEVEN years after the death of Alexander, the
Macedonian conqueror, there was born in Epirus, a
country of Greece, a warrior who might have rivalled
Alexander’s fortune and fame had he, like him,
fought against Persians. But he had the misfor-
tune to fight against Romans, and his story became
different. He was the greatest general of his time.
Hannibal has said that he was the greatest of any
age. But Rome was not Persia, and a Roman army
was not to be dealt with like a Persian horde. Had
Alexander marched west instead of east, he would
probably not have won the title of “Great.”

Pyrrhus, king of Epirus, claimed descent from
Pyrrhus, son of Achilles. While still an infant a
rebellion broke out in Epirus. His father was ab-
sent, and the rebel chiefs sought to kill him, but he
was hurried away in his nurse’s arms, and his life
saved. When he was ten years old, Glaucius, king
of Illyria, who had brought him up among his own
children, conquered Epirus and placed him on the
throne. Seven years afterwards rebellion broke out
again, and Pyrrhus had once more to fly for his life.
He now fought in some great battles, married the
daughter of the king of Egypt, returned with an

824
PYRRHUS AND THE ROMANS. 325

army, and again became king of Epirus. He after-
wards conquered all Macedonia, and, like Alexander
the Great, whose fame he envied, looked about him
for other worlds to conquer.

During the years over which our tales have passed
a series of foreign powers had threatened Greece.
First, in the days of legend, it had found a foreign
enemy in Troy. Next came the great empire of
Persia, with which it had for centuries to deal.
Then rose Macedonia, the first conqueror of Greece.
Meanwhile, in the west, a new enemy had been
slowly growing in power and thirst for conquest,
that of Rome, before whose mighty arm Greece was
destined to fall and vanish from view as one of the
powers of the earth. And the first of the Greeks to
come in warlike contact with the Romans was Pyr-
rhus. How this came about, and what arose from
it, we have now to tell.

Step by step the ambitious Romans had been ex-
tending their power over Italy. They were now at
war with Tarentum, a city of Greek origin on the
south Italian coast. The Tarentines, being hard
pressed by their vigorous foes, sent an embassy to
Greece, and asked Pyrrhus, then the most famous
warrior of the Grecian race, to come to their aid
against their enemy. This was in the year 281 B.o.

Pyrrhus had been for some years at peace, build-
ing himself a new capital city, which he profusely
adorned with pictures and statues. But peace was
not to his taste. Consumed by ambition, restless in
temperament, and anxious to make himself a rival
in fame of Alexander the Great, he was ready enough

28
326 HISTORICAL TALES.

to accept this request, and measure his strength in
battle against the most warlike nation of the West.

His wise counsellor, Cineas, asked him what he
would do next, if he should overcome the Romans,
who were said to be great warriors and conquerors
of many peoples.

“The Romans once overcome,” he said, proudly,
“no city, Greek or barbarian, would dare to oppose
me, and I should be master of all Italy.”

“ Well,” said Cineas, “if you conquer Italy, what
next?”

“ Greater victories would follow. There are Libya
and Carthage to be won.”

“ And then?” asked Cineas,

“Then 1 should be able to master all Greece.”

“ And then?” continued the counsellor.

“Then,” said Pyrrhus, “I would live at ease, eat
and drink all day, and enjoy pleasant conversation.”

“And what hinders you from taking your ease
now, without all this peril and bloodshed ?”

Pyrrhus had no answer to this. But thirst for
fame drove him on, and the days of ease never came.

In the following year Pyrrhus crossed to Italy
with an army of about twenty-five thousand men,
and with a number of elephants, animals which the
Romans had never seen, and with which he hoped
to frighten them from the battle-field. He had been
promised the aid of all southern Italy, and an army
of three hundred and fifty thousand infantry and
twenty thousand cavalry. In this he was destined
to disappointment. He found the people of Taren-
tum given up to frivolous pleasure, enjoying their
PYRRHUS AND THE ROMANS. 327

theatres and festivals, and expecting that he would
do their fighting while they spent their time in
amusement.

They found, however, that they had gained a
master instead of a servant. Frivolity was not the
idea of war held by Pyrrhus. He at once shut up
the theatre, the gymnasia, and the public walks,
stopped all feasting and revelry throughout the city,
closed the clubs or brotherhoods, and kept the citi-
zens under arms all day. Some of them, in disgust
at this stern discipline, left the city. Pyrrhus there-
upon closed the gates, and would let none out with-
out permission. He even went so far as to put to
death some of the demagogues, and to send others
into exile. By these means he succeeded in making
something like soldiers of the pleasure-loving Taren-
tines.

Thus passed the winter. Meanwhile, the Romans
had been as active as their enemies. They made
the most energetic preparations for war, and with
the opening of the spring were in the field. Pyrrhus,
who had failed to receive the great army promised
him, did not feel strong enough to meet the Roman
force. He offered peace and arbitration, but his
offers were scornfully rejected. He then sent spies
to the Roman camp. One of these was caught and
permitted to observe the whole army on parade. He
was then sent back to Pyrrhus, with the message
that if he wanted to see the Roman army he had
better come himself in open day, instead of sending
spies by night.

The two armies met at length on the banks of the
328 HISTORICAL TALES.

river Siris, where Rome fought its first great battle
with a foreign foe. The Romans were the stronger,
but the Greeks had the advantage in arms and dis-
cipline. The conflict that followed was very differ-
ent from the one fought by Alexander at Issus. So
courageous and unyielding were the contestants that
each army seven times drove back its foes.

“ Beware,” said an officer to Pyrrhus, as he charged
at the head of his cavalry, “of that barbarian on the
black horse with white feet. He has marked you
for his prey.”

“What is fated no man can avoid,” said the king,
heroically. “But neither this man nor the stoutest
soldier in Italy shall encounter me for nothing.”

At that instant the Italian rode at him with
levelled lance and killed his horse. But his own
was killed at the same instant, and while Pyrrhus
was remounting his daring foe was surrounded and
slain.

On this field, for the first time, the Greek spear
encountered the Roman sword. The Macedonian
phalanx with its long pikes was met by the Roman
legion with its heavy blades. The pike of the
phalanx had hitherto conquered the world. The
sword of the legion was hereafter to take its place.
But now neither seemed able to overcome the other.
In vain the Romans sought to hew a way with their
swords through the forest of pikes, and as a last
resort the Roman general brought up a chosen body
of cavalry, which he had held in reserve. These
came on in fierce charge, but Pyrrhus met them
with a more formidable reserve,—his elephants.
PYRRHUS AND THE ROMANS. 329

On beholding these strange monsters, terrible alike
to horse and rider, the Roman cavalry fell back in
confusion. The horses could not be brought to face
their huge opponents. Their disorder broke the
ranks of the infantry. Pyrrhus charged them with
his Thessalian cavalry, and the Roman army was
soon in total rout, leaving its camp to the mercy of
its foes.

During the battle Pyrrhus, knowing that the
safety of his army depended on his own life,
exchanged his arms, helmet, and scarlet cloak for
the armor of Megacles, one of his officers. The
borrowed splendor proved fatal to Megacles. The
Romans made him their mark. Every one struck
at him. He was at last struck down and slain, and
his helmet and cloak were carried to Lavinus, the
Roman commander, who had them borne in triumph
along his ranks. Pyrrhus, fearing that this mistake
might prove fatal, at once threw off his helmet and
rode bareheaded along his own line, to let his soldiers
see that he was still alive, and that a scarlet cloak
was not a king.

The battle over, Pyrrhus surveyed the field, strewn
thickly with the dead of both armies, his valiant
soul moved to a new respect for his foes.

“Tf I had such soldiers,” he cried, “I could con-
quer the world.” Then, noting the numbers of his
own dead, he added, “ Another such victory, and I
must return to Epirus alone.”

He sent Cineas, his wise counsellor, to Rome to
offer terms of peace. Nearly four thousand of his
army had fallen, and these largely Grecks; the

28%
330 HISTORICAL TALES.

weather was unfavorable for an advance; alliance
with these brave foes might be wiser than war.
Many of the Romans, too, thought the same; but
while they were debating in the Forum there was
borne into this building the famous censor Appius
Claudius, once a leader in Rome, now totally blind
and in extreme old age. His advent was like that
of blind Timoleon to the Syracusan senate. The
senators listened in deepest silence when the old
man rose to speak. What he said we do not know,
but his voice was for war, aud the senate, moved by
his impassioned appeal, voted that there should be
no peace with Pyrrhus while he remained in Italy,
and ordered Cineas to leave Rome, with this ulti-
matum, that very day.

Peace refused, Pyrrhus advanced against Rome.
He marched through a territory which for years
had been free from the ravages of war, and was in a
state of flourishing prosperity. It was plundered by
his soldiers without mercy. On he came until Rome
itself lay visible to his eyes from an elevation but
eighteen miles away. Another day’s march would
have brought him to its walls. But a strong Roman
army was in his front; another army hung upon his
rear; his own army was weakened by dissensions
between the Greeks and Italians; he deemed it
prudent to retreat with the plunder ho had gained.

Another winter passed. Pyrrhus had many pris-
oners, whom he would not exchange or ransom un-
less the Romans would accept peace. But he treated
them well, and even allowed them to return to Rome
to enjoy the winter holiday of the Saturnalia, on
PYRRHUS AND THE ROMANS. 331

their solemn promise that they would return if peace
was still refused. The senate was still firm for war,
and the prisoners returned after the holidays, the
sturdy Romans having passed an edict that any
prisoner who should linger in Rome after the day
fixed for the return should suffer death.

In the following spring another battle was fought
near Asculum, on the plains of Apulia. Once more
the Roman sword was pitted against the Macedonian
pike. The nature of the ground was such that the
Romans were forced to attack their enemy in front,
and they hewed in vain with their swords upon the
wall of pikes, which they even grasped with their
hands and tried to break. The Greeks kept their
line intact, and the Romans were slaughtered with-
out giving a wound in return. At length they gave
way. Then the elephants charged, and the repulse
became a rout. But this time the Romans fled only
to their camp, which was close at hand. They had
lost six thousand men. Pyrrhus had lost three thou-
sand five hundred of his light-armed troops. The
heavy-armed infantry was almost unharmed.

Here was another battle that proved almost as
bad as a defeat. Pyrrhus had lost many of the men
he had brought from Epirus. He was not in con-
dition to take the field again, and no more soldiers
could just then be had from Greece. The Romans
were now willing to make a truce, and Pyrrhus
crossed soon after to Sicily, to aid the Greeks of
that island against their Carthaginian foes. He re-
mained there two years, fighting with varied success
and defeat. Then he returned to Tarentum, which
332 HISTORICAL TALES.

again needed his aid against its persistent Roman
enemies.

On his way there Pyrrhus passed through Locri.
Here was a famous temple of Proserpine, in whose
vaults was a large treasure, which had been buried
for an unknown period, and on which no mortal eye
was permitted to gaze. Pyrrhus took bad advice
and plundered the temple of the sacred treasure,
placing it on board his ships. A storm arose and
wrecked the ships, and the stolen treasure was cast
back on the Locrian coast. Pyrrhus now ordered it
to be restored, and offered sacrifices to appease the
offended goddess. She gave no signs of accepting
them. He then put to death the three men who
had advised the sacrilege, but his mind continued
haunted with dread of divine vengeance. Proser-
pine, who was seemingly deeply offended, might
bring upon him ruin and defeat, and the hearts of
his soldiers were weakened by dread of impending
evils.

Once more Pyrrhus met the Romans in the field,
but no longer with success. One of his elephants
was wounded, and ran wildly into his ranks, throw-
ing them into disorder. Hight of these animals
were driven into ground from which there was no
escape. They were captured by the Romans. As
the battle continued one wing of the Roman army
was repulsed; but they assailed the elephants with
such a shower of light weapons that these huge
brutes turned and fled through the ranks of the
phalanx, throwing it into disorder. On their heels
came the Romans. The Greek line once broken, the
PYRRHUS AND THE ROMANS. 333

swords of the Romans gave them a great advantage
over the long spears of the enemy. Cut down in
numbers, the Greeks were thrown into confusion,
and were soon flying in panic, hotly pursued by
their foes. How many were slain is not known, but
the defeat was decisive. Retreating to Tarentum,
Pyrrhus resolved to leave Italy, disgusted with his
failure and with the supineness of his allies, and dis-
appointed in his ambitious hopes. He reached Epirus
again with little more than eight thousand troops,
and without money enough to maintain even these.
Thus ended the first meeting of Greeks and Romans
in war.

The remainder of the story of Pyrrhus may be
soon told. He had counted on living in ease after
his wars, but ease was not for him. His remaining
life was spent in war. He invaded and conquered
Macedonia. He engaged in war against the Spar-
tans, and was repulsed from their capital city. At
last, in his attack on Argos, while forcing his way
through its streets, he fell by a woman’s hand. A
tile was cast from a house on his head, which hurled
him stunned from his horse, and he was killed in the
street. Thus ignobly perished the greatest. general
of his age.
PHILOPGEMEN AND THE FALL
OF SPARTA.

Tus history of Greece may well seem remarkable
to modern readers, since it brings us in contact with
conditions which have ceased to exist anywhere upon
the earth. To gain some idea of its character, we
should have to imagine each of the counties of one
of our American States to be an independent nation,
with its separate government, finances, and history,
its treaties of peace and declarations of war, and
its frequent fierce conflicts with some neighboring
county. Hach of these counties would have its cen-
tral city, surrounded by high walls, and its citi-
zens ready at any moment to take arms against
some other city and march to battle against foes of
their own race and blood. In some cases a single
county would have three or four cities, each hostile to
the others, like the cities of Thebes, Platea, Thespia,
and Orchomenos, in Beotia; standing ready, like
fierce dogs each in its separate kennel, to fall upon
one another with teeth and claws. It may further
be said that of the population of these counties five
out of every six were slaves, and that these slaves
were white men, most of them of Greek descent.
The general custom in those days was either to slay
prisoners in cold blood, or sell them to spend the
remainder of their lives in slavery.

834
PHILOPG@MEN AND THE FALL OF SPARTA. 8335

This state of affairs was not confined to Greece.
It existed in Italy until Rome conquered all its small
neighbor states. It existed in Asia until the great
Babylonian and Persian empires conquered all the
smaller communities. It was the first form of a
civilized nation, that of a city surrounded by enough
farming territory to supply its citizens with food,
each city ready to break into war with any other,
and each race of people viewing all beyond its bor-
ders as strangers and barbarians, to be dealt with
almost as if they were beasts of prey instead of men
and brothers,

The cities of Greece were not only thus isolated,
but each had its separate manners, customs, govern-
ment, and grade of civilization. Athens was famous
for its intellectual cultivation; Thebes had a repu-
tation for the heavy-headed dulness of its people;
Sparta was a rigid war school, and so on with others.
In short, the world has gone so far beyond the politi-
cal and social conditions of that period that it is by
no means easy for us to comprehend the Grecian
state.

Among those cities Sparta stood in one sense
alone. While the others were enclosed in strong
walls, Sparta remained open and free,—its only wall
being the valorous hearts and strong arms of its in-
habitants. While other cities were from time to
time captured and occasionally destroyed, no foeman
had set foot within Sparta’s streets. Not until the
days of Epaminondas was Laconia invaded by a
powerful foe; and even then Sparta remained free
from the foeman’s tread. Neither Philip of Macedon,

@
336 HISTORICAL TALES.

nor his son Alexander, entered this proud city, and
it was not until the troublous later times that the
people of Sparta, feeling that their ancient warlike
virtue was gone, built around their city a wall of
defence,

But the humiliation of that proud city was at hand.
It was to be entered by a foeman; the laws of Ly-
curgus, under which it had risen to such might,
were to come to an end; and lordly Sparta was to
sink into insignificance, and its glory remain but a
memory to man.

About the year 252 B.c. was born Philopemen,
the last of the great generals of Greece. He was
the son of Craugis, a citizen of Megalopolis, the
great city which Epaminondas had built in Arcadia.
Here he was thoroughly educated in philosophy and
the other learning of the time; but his natural in-
clination was towards the life of a soldier, and he
made a thorough study of the use of arms and the
management of horses, while sedulously secking the
full development of his bodily powers. Epaminon-
das was the example he set himself, and he came
little behind that great warrior in activity, sagacity,
and integrity, though he differed from him in being
possessed of a hot, contentious temper, which often
carried him beyond the bounds of judgment.

Philopeemen was marked by plain manners and a
genial disposition, in proof of which Plutarch tells
an amusing story. In his later years, when he was
general of a great Grecian confederation, word was
brought to a lady of Megara that Philopemen was

coming to her house to await the return of her hus-
®
PHILOP@MEN AND THE FALL OF SPARTA. 337%

band, who was absent. The good lady, all in a
tremor, set herself hurriedly to prepare a supper
worthy of her guest. While she was thus engaged
aman entered dressed in a shabby cloak, and with
no mark of distinction. Taking him for one of the
general's train who had been sent on in advance, the
housewife called on him to help her prepare for his
master’s visit. Nothing loath, the visitor threw off
his cloak, seized the axe she offered him, and fell
lustily to work in cutting up fire-wood.

While he was thus engaged, the husband returned,
and at once recognized in his wife’s lackey the
expected visitor.

- “What does this mean, Philopcemen ?” he cried, in
surprise.

“ Nothing,” replied the general, “except that Iam
paying the penalty of my ugly looks.”

Philopceemen had abundant practice in the art of
war. Between Arcadia and Laconia hostility was
the normal condition, and he took part in many
plundering incursions into the neighboring state.
In these he always went in first and came out last.
When there was no fighting to be done he would go
every evening to an estate he owned several miles
from town, would throw himself on the first mattress
in his way and sleep like a common laborer, and
rising at break of day would go to work in the vine-
yard or at the plough. Then returning to the town,
he would employ himself in public business or in
friendly intercourse during the remainder of the
day.

When Philopemen was thirty years old, Cleom-

I—P ow 29
338 HISTORICAL TALES,

enes, the Spartan king, one night attacked Mega-
lopolis, forced the guards, broke in, and seized the
market-place. The citizens sprang to arms, Philo-
peemen at their head, and a desperate conflict ensued
in the streets. But their efforts were in vain, the
enemy held their ground. Then Philopcemen set
himself to aid the escape of the citizens, making
head against the foe while his fellow-townsmen left
the city. At last, after losing his horse and receiving
several wounds, he fought his way out through the
gate, being the last man to retreat. Cleomenes,
finding that the citizens would not listen to his fair
offers for their return, and tired of guarding empty
houses, left the place after pillaging it and destroy-
ing all he readily could.

The next year Philopemen took part in a battle
between King Antigonus of Macedonia and the
Spartans, in which the victory was due to his charg-
ing the enemy at the head of the cavalry against
the king’s orders.

“How came it,” asked the king after the battle,
“that the horse charged without waiting for the
signal ?”

“We were forced into it against our wills by a
young man of Megalopolis,” was the reply.

“That young man,” said Antigonus, with a smile,
“ acted like an experienced commander.”

During this battle a javelin, flung by a strong
hand, passed through both his thighs, the head
coming out on the other side. “There he stood
awhile,” says Plutarch, “as if he had been shackled,
unable to move. The fastening which joined the
PHILOPE@MEN AND THE FALL OF SPARTA. 339

thong to the javelin made it difficult to get it drawn
out, nor would any one about him venture to do it.
But the fight being now at its hottest, and likely to
be quickly decided, he was transported with the
desire of partaking in it, and struggled and strained
so violently, setting one leg forward, the other back,
that at last he broke the shaft in two; and thus got
the pieces pulled out. Being in this manner set at
liberty, he caught up his sword, and running through
the midst of those who were fighting in the first
ranks, animated his men, and set them afire with
emulation.”

As may be imagined, a man of such indomitable
courage could not fail to make his mark. Antigonus
wished to engage him in his service, but Philopcemen
refused, as he knew his temper would not let him
serve under others. His thirst for war took him to
Crete, where he brought the cavalry of that island
to a state of perfection never before known in
Greece.

And now a new step in political progress took
place in the Peloponnesus. The cities of Achea
joined into a league for common aid and defence.
Other cities joined them, until it was hoped that all
Peloponnesus would be induced to combine into one
commonwealth. There had been leagues before in
Greece, but they had all been dominated by some one
powerful city. The Achwan League was the first
that was truly a federal republic in organization,
each city being an equal member of the confederacy.

Philopeemen, whose name had grown to stand
highest among the soldiers of Greece, was chosen as
340 HISTORICAL TALES. —

general of the cavalry, and at once set himself to
reform its discipline and improve its tactics. By
his example he roused a strong warlike fervor among
the people, inducing them to give up all display and
exercise but those needed in war. “ Nothing then
was to be seen in the shops but plate breaking up or
melting down, gilding of breastplates, and studding,
buckles and bits with silver; nothing in the places
of exercise but horses managing and young men ex-
ercising their arms; nothing in the hands of the
women but helmets and crests of feathers to be
dyed, and the military cloaks and riding frocks to be
embroidered. ... Their arms becoming light and
easy to them with constant use, they longed for
nothing more than to try them with an enemy, and
fight in earnest.”

Two years afterwards, in 208 B.c, Philopcemen
was elected strategus, or general-in-chief, of the
Achean league. The martial ardor of the army he
had organized was not long left unsatisfied. It was
with his old enemy, the Spartans, that he was first
concerned. Machanidas, the Spartan king, having
attacked the city of Mantinea, Philopcemen marched
against him, and soon gave him other work to do.
A part of the Achean army flying, Machanidas
hotly pursued. Philopcemen held back his main
body until the enemy had become scattered in pur-
suit, when he charged upon them with such energy
that they were repulsed, and over four thousand
were killed. Machanidas returning in haste, strove
to cross a deep ditch between him and his foe; but
as he was struggling up its side, Philopcemen trans-
PHILOP@MEN AND THE FALL OF SPARTA, 341

fixed him with his javelin, and hurled him back dead
into the muddy ditch.

This victory greatly enhanced the fame of the
Arcadian general. Some time afterwards he and a
party of his young soldiers entered the theatre
during the Nemean games, just as the actor was
speaking the opening words of the play called “The
Persians :”

“Under his conduct Greece was glorious and was free.’’

The whole audience at once turned towards Philo-
pemen, and clapped their hands with delight. It
seemed to them that in this valiant warrior the
ancient glory of Greece had returned, and for the
time some of the old-time spirit came back. But,
despite this momentary glow, the sun of Grecian
freedom and glory was near its setting. A more
dangerous enemy than Macedonia had arisen. Rome,
which Pyrrhus had gone to Italy to seek, had its
armies now in Greece itself, and the independence
of that country would soon be no more.

The next exploit of Philopemen had to do with
Messenia. Nabis, the new Spartan king, had taken
that city at a time when Philopeemen was out of
command, the generalship of the League not being
permanent. He tried to persuade Lysippus, then
general of the Acheans, to go to the relief of Mes-
senia, but he refused, saying that it was lost beyond
hope. Thereupon Philopcemen set out himself, fol-
lowed by such of his fellow-citizens as deemed him
their general by nature’s commission. The very
wind of his coming won the town. Nabis, hearing

29%
342 HISTORICAL TALES.

that Philopemen was near at hand, slipped hastily
out of the city by the opposite gates, glad to get
away in safety. He escaped, but Messenia was re-
covered. The martial spirit of Philopemen next
took him to Crete, where fighting was to be had to
his taste. Yet he left his native city of Megalopolis
so pressed by the enemy that its people were forced
to sow grain in their very streets. However, he.
came back at length, met Nabis in the field, rescued
the army from a dangerous situation, and put the
enemy to flight. Soon after he made peace with
Sparta, and achieved a remarkable triumph in in-
ducing that great and famous city to join the
Achean League. In truth, the nobles of Sparta,
glad to have so important an ally, sent Philopwmen
a valuable present. But such was his reputation for
honor that for a time no man could be found who
dared offer it to him; and when at length the offer
was made he went to Sparta himself, and advised
its nobles, if they wanted any one to bribe, to let it
not be good men, but those ill citizens whose sedi-
tious voices needed to be silenced.

In the end Sparta was destined to suffer at the
hands of its incorruptible ally, it having revolted
from the League. Philopemen marched into La-
conia, led his army unopposed to Sparta, and took
possession of that famous seat of Mars, within which
no hostile foot had hitherto been set. He razed its
walls to the ground, put to death those who had
stirred the city to rebellion, and took away a great
part of its territory, which he gave to Megalopolis,
Those who had been made citizens of Sparta by
PHILOP@MEN AND THE FALL OF SPARTA. 343

tyrants he drove from the country, and three thou-
sand who refused to go he sold into slavery; and, as
a further insult, with the money received from their
sale he built a colonnade at Megalopolis.

Finally, as a death-blow to Spartan power, he
abolished the time-honored laws of Lycurgus, under
which that city had for centuries been so great, and
forced the people to educate their children and live
in the same manner as the Achwans. Thus ended
the glory of Sparta. Some time afterwards its citi-
zens resumed their old laws and customs, but the
city had sunk from its high estate, and from that
time forward vanished from history.

At length, being then seventy years of age, mis-
fortune came to this great warrior and ended his
warlike career. An enemy of his had induced the
Messenians to revolt from the Achwan League. At
once the old soldier, though lying sick with a fever
at Argos, rose from his bed and reached Megalopolis
fifty miles away, ina day. Putting himself at the
head of an army, he marched to meet the foe. In
the fight that followed his force was driven back,
and he became separated from his men in his efforts
to protect the rear. Unluckily his horse stumbled
in a stony place, and he was thrown to the ground
and stunned. The enemy, who were following
closely, at once made him prisoner, and carried him,
with insult and contumely, and with loud shouts of
triumph, to the city gates, through which the very
tidings of his coming had once driven a triumphant
foe.

The Messenians rapidly turned from anger to pity
344 HISTORICAL TALES.

for their noble foe, and would probably have in the
end released him, had time been given them. But
Dinocrates, their general and his enemy, resolved
that Philopcemen should not. escape from his hands.
He confined him in a close prison, and, learning that
his army had returned and were determined upon
his rescue, decided that that night should be Philo-
poemen’s last.

The prisoner lay—not sleeping, but oppressed with
grief and trouble—in his prison cell, when a man en-
tered bearing poison in a cup. Philopcemen sat up,
and, taking the cup, asked the man if he had heard
anything of the Achswan horsemen.

“The most of them got off. safe,” said the man.

“Tt is well,” said Philopcemen, with a cheerful
look, “that we have not been in every way unfortu-
nate.”

Then, without a word more, he drank the poison
and lay down again. As he was old and weak from
his fall, he was quickly dead.

The news of his death filled all Achwa with lam-
entation and thirst for revenge. Messenia was rav-
aged with fire and sword till it submitted. Dinoc-
rates and all who had voted for Philopcomen’s death
~ killed themselves to escape death by torture. All
Achwa mourned at his funeral, statues were erected
to his memory, and the highest honors decreed to
him in many cities. In the words of Pausanias,
a late Greek writer, “Miltiades was the first, and
Philopemen the last, benefactor to the whole of
Greece.”
 

REMAINS OF THE TEMPLE OF MINERVA, CORINTH.
THE DEATH-STRUGGLE OF
" GREECE,

GreEcE learned too late the art of combining for
self-defence. In the war against the vast power of
Persia, Athens stood almost alone. What aid she
got from the rest of Greece was given grudgingly.
Themistocles had to gain the aid of the Grecian
fleet at Salamis by a trick. Philip of Macedonia
conquered Greece by dividing it and fighting it
piecemeal. Only after the close of the Macedonian
power and the beginning of that of Rome did
Grecce begin to learn the art of unity, and then the
lesson came too late, The Achwan League, which
combined the nations of the Peloponnesus into a
federal republic, was in its early days kept busy in
forcing its members to remain true to their pledge.
If it had survived for a century it would probably
have brought all Greece into the League, and have
produced a nation capable of self-defence. But
Rome already had her hand on the throat of
Greece, and political wisdom came to that land too
late to avail.

We have come, indeed, to the end of the story of
Grecian liberty. Twico Greece rose in arms against
the power of Rome, but in the end she fell hopelessly

into the fetters forged for the world by that lord of
846
346 HISTORICAL TALES.

conquest. Of the celebrated cities of Greece two
had already fallen. Thebes had been swept from
the face of the earth in the wind of Alexander's
wrath. Sparta had been reduced to a feeble vil-
lage by the anger of Philopemen. Corinth, now
the largest and richest city of Greece, was to be
razed to the ground for daring to defy Rome; and
Athens was to be plundered and humiliated by a
conquering Roman army.

It will not take long to tell how all this came
about. The story is a short one, but full of vital
consequences. Philopcemen, the great general of
the Achwan League, died of poison 183 B.c. In the
same year died in exile Hannibal, the greatest foo
Rome ever knew, and Scipio, one of its ablest gen-
erals. Rome was already master of Greece. But
the Roman senate feared trouble from the growth of
the Achezan League, and, to weaken it, took a thon-
sand of its noblest citizens, under various charges,
and sent them as hostages to Rome. Among them
was the celebrated historian Polybius, who wrote the
history of Hannibal’s wars.

These exiles were not brought to trial on the weak
charges made against them, but they were detained
in Italy for seventeen years. By the end of that time
many of them had died, and Rome at last did what it
was not in the habit of doing, it took pity on those
who were left and let them return home.

Roman pity in this case proved disastrous to
Greece. Many of the exiles were exasperated by
their treatment, and were no sooner at home than
they began to stir up the people to revolt. Polybius
THE DEATH-STRUGGLE OF GREECE. 347

held them back for a time, but during his absence
the spirit of sedition grew. It was intensified by the
action of Rome, which, to weaken Greece, resolved
to dissolve the Achzan League, or to take from it its
strongest cities. Roman ambassadors carried this
edict to Corinth, the great city of the League.
When their errand become known the people rose
in riot, insulted the ambassadors, and vowed that
they were not and would not be the slaves of Rome.

If they had shown the strength and spirit to sus-
tain their vow they might have had some warrant
for it. But the fanatics who stirred the country to
revolt against the advice of its wisest citizens proved
incapable in war. Their army was finally put to rout
in the year 146 B.c. by a Roman army under the
leadership of Lucius Mummius, consul of Rome.

This Roman victory was won in the vicinity of
Corinth. The routed army did not seek to defend
itself in that city, but fled past its open gates, and
left it to the mercy of the Roman general. The
gates still stood open. No defence was made. But
Mummius, fearing some trick, waited a day or two
before entering. On doing so he found the city
nearly deserted. The bulk of the population had
fled. The greatest and richest city which Greece
then possessed had fallen without a blow struck in
its defence.

Yet Mummius chose to consider it as a city
taken by storm. All the men who remained were
put to the sword; the women and children were
kept to be sold as slaves; the town was mercilessly
plundered of its wealth and treasures of art.
348 HISTORICAL TALES.

But this degree of vengeance did not satisfy Rome.
Her ambassadors had been insulted,—by a mob, it is
true; but in those days the law-abiding had often
to suffer for the deeds of the mob. The Achgwan
League, with Corinth at its head, had dared to resist
the might and majesty of Rome. A lesson must be
given that would not be easily forgotten. Corinth
must be utterly destroyed.

Such was the deliberate decision of the Roman
senate; such the order sent to Mummius. At his
command the plundering of the city was completed.
It was fabulously rich in works of art. Many of
these were sent to Rome. Many of them were de-
stroyed. The Romans were ignorant of their value.
Their leader himself was as incompetent and igno-
rant as any Roman general could well be. He had
but one thought, to obey the orders of the senate.
The plundered city was thereupon set on fire and
burned to the ground, its walls were pulled down,
the spot where it had stood was cursed, its territory
was declared the property of the Roman people.
No more complete destruction of a city had ever
taken place. <A century afterwards Corinth was re-
built by order of Julius Cesar, but it never became
again the Corinth of old.

As for the destruction of works of priceless value,
it was pitiable. When Polybius returned and saw
the ruins, he found common goldiers playing dice on
paintings of the most celebrated artists of Greece.
Mummius, who was as honest as he was dull-witted,
strictly obeyed orders in sending the choicest of the
spoil to Rome, and made himself forever famous as a
THE DEATH-STRUGGLE OF GREECE. 349

marvel of stupidity by a remark to those who were
charged with the conveyance of some of the noblest
of Grecian statues.

“Take good care that you do not lose these on the
way,” he said; “for if you do you shall be made to
replace them by others of equal value.”

Rome could conquer the world, but honest Mum-
mius had set a task which Rome throughout its
whole history was not able to perform.

Thus ended the death-struggle of Greece. The
chiefs of the party of revolt were put to death; the
inhabitants of Corinth who had fled were taken and
sold as slaves. The walls of all the cities which had
resisted Rome were levelled to the ground. An an-
nual tribute was laid on them by the conquerors.
Self-government was left to the states of Greece, but
they were deprived of their old privilege of making
war.

Yet Greece might have flourished under the new
conditions, for peace heals the wounds made by war,
had its states not been too much weakened by their
previous conflicts, and had not a new war arisen just
when they were beginning to enjoy some of the
fruits of peace.

This war, which broke out sixty years later, had
its origin in Asia, Mithridates the Great, king of
Pontus, had made himself master of all Asia Minor,
where he ordered that all the Romans found should
be killed. It is said that eighty thousand were
slaughtered. Then he sent an army into Greece,
under his general Archelaus, and there found the
people ready and willing to join him, in the hope of

30
350 HISTORICAL TALES.

gaining their freedom by his aid. Rome just then
seemed weak, and they deemed it a good season to
rebel.

Archelaus took possession of Athens and the
Pirseus, from which all the friends of Rome were
driven into exile. Meanwhile, Rome was distracted
by the struggle between the two great leaders Ma-
rius and Sulla. But leaving Rome to take care of
itself, Sulla marched an army against Mithridates,
entered Greece, and laid siege to Athens.

This was in the year 87 B.c. The siege that fol-
lowed was a long one. Archelaus lay in Pireus,
with abundance of food, and had command of the
sea. But the long walls that led to Athens had long
since vanished. Food could not be conveyed from
the port to the city, as of old. Hunger came to
the aid of Rome. Resistance having almost ceased,
Sulla broke into the famous old city March 1, 86
B.c., and gave it up to rapine and pillage by his
soldiers.

Yet Athens was not destroyed as Corinth had
been. Sulla had some respect for art and antiquity,
and carefully preserved the old monuments of the
city, while such of its people as had not been mas-
sacred were restored to their civil rights as sub-
jects of Rome. Soon the Asiatics were driven from
Greece and Roman dominion was once more restored.
Thus ended the last struggle for liberty in Greece.
Nineteen hundred years were to pass away before
another blow for freedom would be struck on
Grecian soil.
ZENOBIA AND LONGINUS.

Amone the most famous of the women of ancient
days must be named Zenobia, the celebrated queen
of Palmyra and the East, and who claimed to be
descended from the kings whom the conquests of
Alexander left over Egypt, the Ptolemies, among
whose descendants was included the still more cele-
brated Cleopatra. Zenobia was the most lovely as
well as the most heroic of her sex, no woman of
Asiatic birth ever having equalled her in striking
evidence of valor and ability, and none surpassed
her in beauty. We are told that while of a dark
complexion, her smile revealed tecth of pearly white-
ness, while her large black eyes sparkled with an
uncommon brightness that was softened by the most
attractive sweetness. She possessed a strong and
melodious voice, and, in short, had all the charms
of womanly beauty.

Her mind was as well stored as her body was
attractive. She was familiar with the Greek, the
Syriac, and the Egyptian languages, and was an
adept also in Latin, then the political language of
the civilized world. She was an earnest student of
Oriental history, of which she herself drew up an
epitome, while she was fully conversant with Homer

and Plato, and the other great writers of Greece.
351
352 HISTORICAL TALES.

This lovely and accomplished woman gave her
hand in marriage to Odenathus, who from a private
station had gained by his valor the empire of the
Hast. He made Syria his by courage and ability,
and twice pursued the Persian king to the gates of
Ctesiphon. Of this hero Zenobia became the com-
panion and adviser. In hunting, of which he was
passionately fond, she emulated him, pursuing the
lions, panthers, and other wild beasts of the desert
with an ardor equal to his own, and a fortitude and
endurance which his did not surpass. Inured to
fatigue, she usually appeared on horseback in a
military habit, and at times marched on foot at the
head of the troops. Odenathus owed his success
largely to the prudence and fortitude of his incom-
parable wife.

In the midst of his successes in war, Odenathus
was cut off in 250 a.v. by assassination. He had
punished his nephew, who killed him in return.
Zenobia at once succeeded to the vacant throne, and
by her ability governed Palmyra, Syria, and the
East. In this tusk, in which no man could have
surpassed her in courage and judgment, she was
aided by the counsels of one of the ablest Greeks
who had appeared since the days of the famous
writers of the classical age. Longinus, who had
been her preceptor in the language and literature of
Greece, and who, on her ascending the throne, be-
came her secretary and chief counsellor in state
affairs, was a literary critic and philosopher whose
lucid intellect seemed to belong to the brightest
days of Greece. He was probably a native of Syria,
S

ZENOBIA AND LONGINUS. 353

born some time after 200 a.p., and had studied liter-
ature and philosophy at Athens, Alexandria, and
Rome, under the ablest teachers of the age. His
learning was immense, and he is the first man to
whom was applied the expression “a living library,”
or, to give it its modern form, “a walking encyclo-
pedia.” His writings were lively and penetrating,
showing at once taste, judgment, and learning. We
have only fragments of them, except the celebrated
“Treatise on the Sublime,” which is one of the most
notable of ancient critical productions.

Under the advice of this distinguished counsellor,
Zenobia entered upon a career which brought her
disaster, but has also brought her fame. Her hus-
band Odenathus had avenged Valerian, the Roman
emperor, who had been taken prisoner and shame-
fully treated by the Persian king. For this service
he was confirmed in his authority by the senate of
Rome. But after his death the senate refused to
grant this authority to his widow, and called on her
to deliver her dominion over to Rome. Under the
advice of Longinus the martial queen refused, defied
the power of Rome, and determined to maintain her
empire in despite of the senate and army of the
proud “master of the world.”

War at once broke out. A Roman army invaded
Syria, but was met by Zenobia with such warlike
energy and skill that it was hurled back in defeat,
and its commanding general, having lost his army,
was driven back to Europe in disgrace. This success
gave Zenobia the highest fame and power in the
world of the Orient. The states of Arabia, Armenia,

1—2# 80*
354 HISTORICAL TALES.

and Persia, in dread of her enmity, solicited alliance
with her. To her dominions, which extended from
the Huphrates over much of Asia Minor and to the
borders of Arabia, she added the populous kingdom
of Egypt, the inheritance of her claimed ancestors.
The Roman emperor Claudius acknowledged her
authority and left her unmolested. Assuming the
splendid title of Queen of the Hast, she established
at her court the stately power of the courts of Asia,
exacted from her subjects the adoration shown to
the Persian king, and, while strict in her economy,
at times displayed the greatest liberality and mag-
nificence.

But a new emperor came to the throne in Rome,
and a new period in the history of Zenobia began.
Aurelian, a fierce and vigorous soldier, marched at
the head of the Roman legions against this valiant
queen, who had built herself up an empire of great
extent, and demanded that she should submit to the
power of his arms. Asia Minor was quickly restored
to Rome, Antioch fell into the hands of Aurelian,
and the Romans still advanced, to meet the army of
the Syrian queen. Meeting near Antioch, a great
battle was fought. Zabdas, who had conquered
Egypt for Zenobia, led her army, but the valiant
queen animated her soldiers by her presence, and
exhorted them to the utmost exertions. Her troops,
great in number, were mainly composed of light-
armed archers and of cavalry clothed in complete
steel. These Asiatic warriors: proved incapable of
enduring the charge of the veteran legions of Rome.
The army of Zenobia met with defeat, and at a sub-
ZENOBIA AND LONGINUS. . 355

sequent battle, near Hmesa, met with a second dis-
astrous repulse.

Zenobia found it impossible to collect a third army.
Most of the nations under her control had submitted
to the conqueror. Egypt was invaded by a Roman
army. Out of her lately great empire only her
capital, Palmyra, remained. Here she retired, made
preparations for a vigorous defence, and declared
that her reign and life should only end together.

Palmyra was then one of the most splendid cities
of the world. A halting-place for the caravans
which conveyed to Europe the rich products of
India and the Hast, it had grown into a great and
opulent city, whose former magnificence is shown by
the ruins of temples, palaces, and porticos of Grecian
architecture, which now extend over a district of
several miles. In this city, surrounded with strong
walls, Zenobia had gathered the various military en-
gines which in those days were used in siege and
defence, and, woman though she was, was prepared
to make the most vigorous resistance to the armies
of Rome.

Aurelian had before him no light task. In his
march over the desert the Arabs harassed him per-
petually. The siege proved difficult, and the em-
peror, leading the attacks in person, was himself
wounded with a dart. Aurelian, finding that he had
undertaken no trifling task, prudently offered ex-
cellent terms to the besieged, but they were rejected
with insulting language. Zenobia hoped that famine
would come to her aid to defeat her foe, and had
reason to expect that Persia would send an army to
356 HISTORICAL TALES.

her relief. Neither happened. The Persian king
had just died. Convoys of food crossed the desert
in safety. Despairing at length of success, Zenobia
mounted her fleetest dromedary and fled across the
desert to the Euphrates. Here she was overtaken
and brought back a captive to the emperor’s feet.
Soon afterwards Palmyra surrendered. The em-
peror treated it with lenity, but a great treasure in
gold, silver, silk, and precious stones fell into his
hands, with all the animals and arms. Zenobia
being brought into his presence, he sternly asked
her how she had dared to take arms against the
emperors of Rome. She answered, with respectful
prudence, “ Because I disdained to consider as Ro-
man emperors an Aureolus or a Gallienus. You alone
I acknowledge as my conqueror and my sovereign.”
Her fortitude, however, did not last. The soldiers,
with angry clamor, demanded her immediate execu-
tion, and the unhappy queen, losing for the first
time the courage which had so long sustained her,
gave way to terror, and declared that her resistance
was not due to herself, but had arisen from the coun-
sels of Longinus and her other advisers. It was the
one base act in the woman’s life. She had purchased
a brief period of existence at the expense of honor
and fame. Aurelian, a fierce soldier, to whom the
learning of Longinus made no appeal, at once or-
dered his execution. The scholar died like a philoso-
pher. He uttered no complaint, He pitied, but did
not blame, his mistress. He comforted his afflicted
friends. With the calm fortitude of Socrates he fol-
lowed the executioner, and died like one for whom
ZENOBIA AND LONGINUS. 357

death had no terrors. The ignorant emperor, in
seizing the treasures of Palmyra, did not know that
he had lost its choicest treasure in setting free the
soul of Longinus the scholar.

What followed may be more briefly told. March-
ing back with his spoils from Palmyra, Aurelian had
already reached Europe when word came to him
that the Palmyrians whom he had spared had risen
in revolt and massacred his garrison. Instantly
turning, he marched back, his soul filled with thirst
for revenge. Reaching Palmyra with great celerity,
his wrath fell with murderous fury on that devoted
city. Not only armed rebels, but women and chil-
dren, were massacred, and the city was almost
levelled with the earth. The greatness of Palmyra
was at anend. It never recovered from this dread-
ful blow. It sunk, step by step, into the miserable
village, in the midst of stately ruins, into which it
has now declined.

On his return Aurelian celebrated his victories and
conquests with a magnificent triumph, one of the
most ostentatious that any Roman emperor had ever
given. His conquests had been great, both in the
West and the Hast, and no emperor had better de-
served a triumphant return to the imperial city, the
mistress of the world.

All day long, from morning to night, the grand
procession wound on. At its head were twenty
elephants, four royal tigers, and about two hundred
of the most curious and interesting animals of the
North, South, and Hast. Sixteen hundred gladiators
followed, destined for the cruel sports to be held in
358 HISTORICAL TALES.

the amphitheatre. Then came a display of the
wealth of Palmyra, the magnificent plate and ward-
robe of Zenobia, the arms and ensigns of numerous
conquered nations. Hmbassadors from the most re-
mote regions of the civilized earth,—from Ethiopia,
Arabia, Persia, India, and China,—attired in-rich and
singular dresses, attested the fame of the Roman
emperor, while his power was shown by the many
presents he had received, among them a great num-
ber of crowns of gold, which had been given him by
grateful cities.

A long train of captives next declared his triumph,
among them Goths, Vandals, Franks, Gauls, Ger-
mans, Syrians, and Egyptians. Each people was
distinguished by its peculiar inscription, the title of
Amazons being given to ten Gothic heroines who
had been taken in arms. But in this great crowd
of unhappy captives one above all attracted the at-
tention of the host of spectators, the beauteous figure
of the Queen of the Hast. Zenobia was so laden
with jewels as almost to faint under their weight.
Her limbs bore fetters of gold, while the golden
chain that encircled her neck was of such weight
that it had to be supported by a slave. She walked
along the streets of Rome, preceding the magnificent
chariot in which she had indulged hopes of riding in
triumph through those grand avenues. Behind it
came two other chariots, still more sumptuous, those
of Odenathus and the Persian monarch. The trium-
phal car of Aurelian, which followed, was one which
had formerly been used by a Gothic king, and was
drawn by four stags or four elephants, we are not
 

THE RUINS OF PALMYRA.
ZENOBIA AND LONGINUS. 359

sure which. The most iilustrious of the senate, the
people, and the army closed this grand procession,
which was gazed upon with joy and wonder by the
vast population of Rome.

So extended was the pompous parade that though
it began with the dawn of day, the ninth hour had
arrived when it ascended to the Capitol, and night:
had fallen when the emperor returned to his palace.
Then followed theatrical representations, games in
the circus, gladiatorial combats, wild-beast shows,
and naval engagements. Not for generations had
Rome seen such a festival. Of the rich spoils a
considerable portion were dedicated to the gods of
Rome, the temples glittered with golden offerings,
and the Temple of the Sun, a magnificent structure
erected by Aurelian, was enriched with more than
fifteen thousand pounds of gold.

To Zenobia the victor behaved with a generous
clemency such as the conquering emperors of Rome
rarely indulged in. He presented her with an ele-
gant villa at Tibur, or Tivola, about twenty miles
from the imperial city; and here, surrounded by
luxury, she who had played so imperial a réle in his-
tory sank into the humbler state of a Roman matron,
Her daughters married into noble families, and the
descendants of the once Queen of the East were still
known in Rome in the fifth century of the Christian
era.
HIYPATIA, THE MAIDEN PHI-
LOSOPHER.

ALEXANDER THE Great “builded better than he
knew.” Doubtless he felt that, in those days of
growing commerce, the sea-coast of Egypt was the
proper location for a great commercial city; but he
could hardly have conjectured that Alexandria would
long survive all the noted cities of his day, and
carry down his name and his fame to a new world
of civilization to come in a far future age. When
Sparta had become a village, Athens a ruin, Babylon
an earth mound, Alexandria was to prosper still, and
survive for at least two thousand years as a live and
active mart. s

The Alexandria of the past became what it was
largely through the fostering care of the Ptolemies,
the successors of Alexander in the rule of Egypt.
They made it not only a city of prosperous trade,
great wealth, and architectural splendor, but a lead-
ing centre of learning, to which, as to a securo
haven, fled the culture of Athens and its sisters in
intellectual fame.

No monarch of all the past showed greater wisdom
than Ptolemy, tho one of Alexander’s generals to
whom, on the breaking up of the great empire, the
kingdom of Egypt fell. Making Alexandria his

360
HYPATIA, THE MAIDEN PHILOSOPHER. 361

capital, he founded there a grand state institution,
which became famous as the Museum, and to which
philosophers, scholars, and students flocked from all
parts of the world. This institution, which became
the first university, at one time had no less than
fourteen thousand students within its walls. Here
all learned men could find a retreat from the bustle
and activity of the great metropolis which Alexan-
dria became, and pursue their studies, or teach their
pupils, in peace, and with little hinderance to the
promulgation of the most diverse and heterodox
opinions.

Connected with it were two immense libraries, the
pride and boast of antiquity, and containing among
their seven hundred thousand volumes all that was
worthy of preservation and study in the writings
of the past. In this secure retreat philosophers and
scholars, supported in ease and even in luxury by
the wise liberality of the dynasty of the Ptolemies,
spent their days in mental culture and learned lec-
tures and debates. Here the pursuit of science, which
had been inaugurated by Aristotle, was continned by
a succession of great astronomers, geometers, chem-
ists, and physicians, for whose use were furnished a
botanical garden, a menagerie of animals, all the as-
tronomical instruments then used, and, perhaps most
important of all, facilities for human dissection,—the
first school of anatomy ever known.

Here, in the heart of the great library, battening
on books, flourished a race of learned literary critics,
engaged in the study of Homer and the other already
classical writers of Greece, and supplying new and

Q 81
362 HISTORICAL TALES,

revised editions of their works. Here a new school of
poetry arose,—mechanical versification the bulk of
it, though the brilliant idyllic poets of Sicily found
in Alexandria an appreciative home. Here philoso-
phy was ardently pursued, Plato and his great rivals ~
were earnestly studied, and, in a later age, the inno-
vation of Neoplatonism was abundantly debated and
taught.

We have not space to name the many steps of
progress in science, literature, and philosophy made
in the Museum of Alexandria nor the names of the
men who made that Museum famous. It will suffice
to say that learning flourished there for centuries,
and then went down in ruin before the deluge of
ignorance and fanaticism which followed the adoption
of Christianity as the state religion of Rome. With
all that Christianity has done for the later world, its
first period of prevalence was fatal to the learning
of the past. In the conflict that arose between
paganism and Christianity the civilization of the
world for a time disappeared, and barbarism reigned
in its stead.

Of the two great libraries of Alexandria, the
largest was burned during the siege of that city
by Julius Cesar. Mare Antony brought another
library from Pergamus to take its place. But this,
and the older library in the Serapion, disappeared
when that ancient building was pillaged and de-
stroyed by order of the Archbishop Theophilus.
Thus forever vanished much of the noble literature
of Greece.

Other ancient edifices were destroyed. Cyril, the
HYPATIA, THE MAIDEN PHILOSOPHER. 363

archbishop who succeeded Theophilus, was still more
of a fanatic. Riots broke out between the three
parties into which the city was divided, Christians,
Heathens, and Jews; conflicts took place in the
streets; finally, into the disordered city flocked five
hundred of the monks of Nitria, wild and ignorant
desert dwellers, who needed only a hint to commit
any excesses against those accused of teaching non-
Christian doctrines.

All we have here said is preliminary to the story
of one of the most interesting of the philosophical
teachers of the past, Hypatia of Alexandria, the
tragedy of whose death marked the turning-point
between the reigns of learning and ignorance. With
Hypatia fell philosophy, not to rise again for more
than a thousand years.

In those days Alexandria possessed a famous
mathematician named Theon. To him, in the latter
part of the fourth century of the Christian era, was
born Hypatia, who was destined to surpass her
father in the study of science and philosophy.
Taught by himself, she became an ardent student,
often pursuing her studies late into the night, and
absorbing not only the mathematical lore of her
father, but the philosophy of Plato and Aristotle and
the then popular doctrines of Neoplatonism, which
became her favorite tenets of philosophy. Her
studies were not confined to Alexandria, but she
travelled abroad, and in the still famous schools of
Athens attended the lectures of the most distin-
guished teachers of philosophy.

Back to Alexandria, with the wisdom she had
364 HISTORICAL TALES.

gained, came this maiden philosopher, in the bloom
of youth, distinguished for beauty, virtue, simplicity
in dress and manner, great learning, and unusual
mental depth and power. Setting up a school of
philosophy in her native city, in response to a request
from the magistrates, she soon became a power for
good. Those ardently desirous of progress in philo-
sophical knowledge found in her teachings clear and
lucid explanations; those who simply followed the
tide of fashion naturally gravitated thither; many,
no doubt, came attracted by the beauty of the
charming maiden teacher ; some among them sought
to win her hand in marriage, but she modestly but
firmly refused her lovers and continued to instruct
her disciples, expounding from maiden lips the deep
and abstruse doctrines of Neoplatonic lore.

Among the visitors to the woman philosopher
were many of those most illustrious in Alexandria
for rank and merit, among them Orestes, the prefect
of Alexandria, and Synesius, the celebrated Neo-
platonic philosopher; and her lecture-rooms were
crowded with the wealth and fashion of the city.
Day after day a long train of chariots crowded the
streets before her door, and numbers of slaves awaited
there their lords’ return. Her audiences out-rivalled
those attending on the dry and long-drawn-out ser-
mons of the archbishop, which were quite thrown
into the shade by Hypatia’s philosophical discourses.

We are told that sometimes she modestly appeared
before the judges, while her learning and authority
made her not ashamed to discourse to a crowd of
men. It is said that she led any student readily into
HYPATIA, THE MAIDEN PHILOSOPHER. 365

a knowledge of the sciences, that lovers of philoso-
phy flocked after her, and that her grave and grace-
ful freedom of speech and chaste and prudent man-
ner drew to her men of the greatest dignity and
authority, while her chastity and modesty won for
her the respect of all men.

But the rivalry with his sermons of Hypatia’s dis-
courses maddened the power-loving Cyril. He could
not and would not endure such a rival, a heathen
sorceress, a8, in his ignorant and intolerant soul, he
deemed her, an evil enchantress who was leading
away from the true faith the rich, young, and noble
of one of the fairest cities upon the earth. Of what
avail to man’s present and future, he asked himself,
were long disquisitions on such questions as “ Where
am I?” “Whatam1?” “What can I know?” and
the like, with which this sorceress was disturbing
the minds of those who would not attend his dis-
courses to hear the voice of authority on all such
subjects? Many asserted that she taught alchemy
and the art of incantation, fortune-telling and search
into the mysteries of life by the aid of talismans.
It was not difficult to stir up the passions of the
horde of desert monks against such a woman; a
mere hint from Cyril sufficed.

The tragedy that followed took place in March of
the year 415 a.p. Hypatia had left her academy
and was driving through the street, when her chariot
was suddenly surrounded by a yelling crowd of bare-
leeged and black-cowled monks, their ignorant minds
wrought to an intense fury against her whom they
considered a vile and dangerous sorceress. Stopping

31*
366 HISTORICAL TALES.

the horses, they dragged her from her chariot, and
in the public street tore the clothing from her limbs.
She was then dragged into a neighboring church,
and in that sacred edifice killed by a blow from the
club of Peter the Reader, a savage leader in the
throng. Then the inhuman multitude flung them-
selves with murderous rage on the lifeless body, tore
it limb from limb, and with oyster-shells, of which
the neighboring sea-shore furnished an abundant
supply, went to such savage lengths as to scrape the
flesh from her bones. The remnants of her body
were cast into the flames and burned to ashes.

Cyril was never called to account for this brutal
murder, than which nothing more shocking is told
in the annals of savage tribes. In truth, heathenism
was at an end, and the power of the monks and
their leaders had become supreme. Hypatia died as
a sacrificial victim to the spirit of ancient philosophy,
and after her death philosophy and learning practi-
cally ceased to exist, until revived by the Arab con-
querors of Alexandria centuries later. We may,
therefore, with the death of this maiden victim to
the intolerance of the early Christian age, end our
stories from Greek history, which, indeed, had long
before ceased to exist, lost under the giant shadow
of imperial Rome.

THE END.
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