Sicilian expedition was due. He persuaded the Athenians to engage in it,
in spite of wiser advice, and was one of those placed in command. 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 among the
superstitious people. Among those accused 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 defeat.
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 fluent 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
Tissaphernes, 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 Tissaphernes to come to their aid, on the
condition that he might be permitted to return. But he declared 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.
Afterwards, 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 conquered
Byzantium and other cities. The ruinous defeat at AEgospotami 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 seeking to convince and improve
mankind. A striking picture is given us of the physical qualities of
this great moral philosopher. His ugliness 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 festivals, when
all were expected to indulge, Socrates could drink more wine than any
person present, without a sign of intoxication. Yet it was his constant
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 mankind.
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 the
larder, gave the poor housewife abundant provocation. We know very
little about the events of his life, except that he served as a soldier
in three campaigns, that he strictly obeyed the laws, performed all his
religious duties, and once, when acting as judge, refused, at the peril
of his life, to perform an unjust action.
Of the daily life of Socrates we have graphic pictures, drawn by his
friends and followers Xenophon 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. In the 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 extraordinary, 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, 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 meaningless 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 sayings. 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 daemon 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 question 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.
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
ignorance, 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.
[Illustration: PRISON OF SOCRATES, ATHENS.]
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 dangerous. 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 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 last 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 his peculiar field, in all the history of
mankind. Greece produced none like him, and this homely and humble
personage, who wrote not a line, has been unsurpassed in fame and
influence upon mankind by any of the host of illustrious writers who
have made famous the Hellenic lands.
_THE RETREAT OF THE TEN THOUSAND._
We have now to tell of one of the most remarkable 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.
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 Babylonia. 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 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 array
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 joining 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,
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 his own 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 Artaxerxes 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 Artaxerxes,
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.
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 inclination 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 impossible; 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 Euxine, or Black Sea. It was in dread and
hopelessness that the solitary 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."
The result of this bold answer was that food was provided, a truce
declared, and Tissaphernes, a Persian 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
Tissaphernes had all along intended was consummated. 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 disheartened host nothing else
to do.
Yet they were not all in that mood. One among 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, Xenophon 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 soldiers were 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 maintain 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 soldiers enthusiastically
accepted Xenophon's plan of action, and soon were on the march again,
with Tissaphernes, 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 whom many had accompanied the army through all its career.
Crossing the Great Zab River, the Greeks continued 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 confident 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 Tissaphernes annoyed 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, 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 resumed and continued for some ten miles. The distance
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
conference took place between Xenophon and the Spartan 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 encouragement to their
men, and Xenophon, riding beside his troop, spurred them to exertion by
reminding 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.
"We are not upon equal terms, Xenophon," said Soteridas, a soldier from
Sicyon, "for you are on horseback, 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.