first freshness of the terrible malady, that Pericles equipped and
conducted from Piraeus an armament of one hundred triremes and four
thousand hoplites to attack the coasts of Peloponnesus; three hundred
horsemen were also carried in some horse-transports, prepared for the
occasion out of old triremes. To diminish the crowd accumulated in the
city was doubtless of beneficial tendency, and perhaps those who went
aboard might consider it as a chance of escape to quit an infected home.
But unhappily they carried the infection along with them, which
desolated the fleet not less than the city, and crippled all its
efforts. Reenforced by fifty ships of war from Chios and Lesbos, the
Athenians first landed near Epidaurus in Peloponnesus, ravaging the
territory and making an unavailing attempt upon the city; next they made
like incursions on the most southerly portions of the Argolic
peninsula--Troezen, Halieis, and Hermione--and lastly attacked and
captured Prasiae, on the eastern coast of Laconia. On returning to
Athens, the same armament was immediately conducted under Agnon and
Cleopompus, to press the siege of Potidaea, the blockade of which still
continued without any visible progress. On arriving there an attack was
made on the walls by battering engines and by the other aggressive
methods then practised; but nothing whatever was achieved. In fact, the
armament became incompetent for all serious effort, from the aggravated
character which the distemper here assumed, communicated by the soldiers
fresh from Athens even to those who had before been free from it at
Potidaea. So frightful was the mortality that out of the four thousand
hoplites under Agnon no fewer than one thousand and fifty died in the
short space of forty days. The armament was brought back in this
distressed condition to Athens, while the reduction of Potidaea was left
as before, to the slow course of blockade.
On returning from the expedition against Peloponnesus, Pericles found
his countrymen almost distracted with their manifold sufferings. Over
and above the raging epidemic they had just gone over Attica and
ascertained the devastations committed by the invaders throughout all
the territory--except the Marathonian Tetrapolis and Deceleia, districts
spared, as we are told, through indulgence founded on an ancient
legendary sympathy--during their long stay of forty days. The rich had
found their comfortable mansions and farms, the poor their modest
cottages, in the various _demes_, torn down and ruined. Death, sickness,
loss of property, and despair of the future now rendered the Athenians
angry and intractable to the last degree. They vented their feelings
against Pericles as the cause not merely of the war, but also of all
that they were now enduring. Either with or without his consent, they
sent envoys to Sparta to open negotiations for peace, but the Spartans
turned a deaf ear to the proposition. This new disappointment rendered
them still more furious against Pericles, whose long-standing political
enemies now doubtless found strong sympathy in their denunciations of
his character and policy. That unshaken and majestic firmness, which
ranked first among his many eminent qualities, was never more
imperiously required and never more effectively manifested.
In his capacity of _strategus_, or general, Pericles convoked a formal
assembly of the people, for the purpose of vindicating himself publicly
against the prevailing sentiment, and recommending perseverance in his
line of policy. The speeches made by his opponents, assuredly very
bitter, are not given by Thucydides; but that of Pericles himself is set
down at considerable length, and a memorable discourse it is. It
strikingly brings into relief both the character of the man and the
impress of actual circumstances--an impregnable mind conscious not only
of right purposes, but of just and reasonable anticipations, and bearing
up with manliness, or even defiance, against the natural difficulty of
the case, heightened by an extreme of incalculable misfortune. He had
foreseen, while advising the war originally, the probable impatience of
his countrymen under its first hardships, but he could not foresee the
epidemic by which that impatience had been exasperated into madness: and
he now addressed them not merely with unabated adherence to his own
deliberate convictions, but also in a tone of reproachful remonstrance
against their unmerited change of sentiment toward him--seeking at the
same time to combat that uncontrolled despair which for the moment
overlaid both their pride and their patriotism. Far from humbling
himself before the present sentiment, it is at this time that he sets
forth his titles to their esteem in the most direct and unqualified
manner, and claims the continuance of that which they had so long
accorded, as something belonging to him by acquired right.
His main object, through this discourse, is to fill the minds of his
audience with patriotic sympathy for the weal of the entire city, so as
to counterbalance the absorbing sense of private woe. If the collective
city flourishes, he argues, private misfortunes may at least be borne;
but no amount of private prosperity will avail if the collective city
falls--a proposition literally true in ancient times and under the
circumstances of ancient warfare, though less true at present.
"Distracted by domestic calamity, ye are now angry both with me who
advised you to go to war, and with yourselves who followed the advice.
Ye listened to me, considering me superior to others in judgment, in
speech, in patriotism, and in incorruptible probity--nor ought I now to
be treated as culpable for giving such advice, when in point of fact the
war was unavoidable and there would have been still greater danger in
shrinking from it. I am the same man, still unchanged--but ye in your
misfortunes cannot stand to the convictions which ye adopted when yet
unhurt. Extreme and unforeseen, indeed, are the sorrows which have
fallen upon you: yet inhabiting as ye do a great city, and brought up in
dispositions suitable to it, ye must also resolve to bear up against the
utmost pressure of adversity, and never to surrender your dignity. I
have often explained to you that ye have no reason to doubt of eventual
success in the war, but I will now remind you, more emphatically than
before, and even with a degree of ostentation suitable as a stimulus to
your present unnatural depression, that your naval force makes you
masters not only of your allies, but of the entire sea--one-half of the
visible field for action and employment. Compared with so vast a power
as this, the temporary use of your houses and territory is a mere
trifle, an ornamental accessory not worth considering: and this too, if
ye preserve your freedom, ye will quickly recover. It was your fathers
who first gained this empire, without any of the advantages which ye now
enjoy; ye must not disgrace yourselves by losing what they acquired.
"Delighting as ye all do in the honor and empire enjoyed by the city, ye
must not shrink from the toils whereby alone that honor is sustained:
moreover, ye now fight, not merely for freedom instead of slavery, but
for empire against loss of empire, with all the perils arising out of
imperial unpopularity. It is not safe for you now to abdicate, even if
ye chose to do so; for ye hold your empire like a despotism--unjust
perhaps in the original acquisition, but ruinous to part with when once
acquired. Be not angry with me, whose advice ye followed in going to
war, because the enemy have done such damage as might be expected from
them: still less on account of this unforeseen distemper: I know that
this makes me an object of your special present hatred, though very
unjustly, unless ye will consent to give me credit also for any
unexpected good-luck which may occur. Our city derives its particular
glory from unshaken bearing up against misfortune: her power, her name,
her empire of Greeks over Greeks, are such as have never before been
seen; and if we choose to be great, we must take the consequence of that
temporary envy and hatred which is the necessary price of permanent
renown. Behave ye now in a manner worthy of that glory: display that
courage which is essential to protect you against disgrace at present,
as well as to guarantee your honor for the future. Send no further
embassy to Sparta, and bear your misfortunes without showing symptoms of
distress."
The irresistible reason, as well as the proud and resolute bearing of
this discourse, set forth with an eloquence which it was not possible
for Thucydides to reproduce--together with the age and character of
Pericles--carried the assent of the assembled people, who when in the
Pnyx, and engaged according to habit on public matters, would for a
moment forget their private sufferings in considerations of the safety
and grandeur of Athens. Possibly, indeed, those sufferings, though still
continuing, might become somewhat alleviated when the invaders quitted
Attica, and when it was no longer indispensable for all the population
to confine itself within the walls. Accordingly, the assembly resolved
that no further propositions should be made for peace, and that the war
should be prosecuted with vigor.
But though the public resolution thus adopted showed the ancient habit
of deference to the authority of Pericles, the sentiments of individuals
taken separately were still those of anger against him as the author of
that system which had brought them into so much distress. His political
opponents--Cleon, Simmias, or Lacratidas, perhaps all three in
conjunction--took care to provide an opportunity for this prevalent
irritation to manifest itself in act, by bringing an accusation against
him before the _dicastery_. The accusation is said to have been
preferred on the ground of pecuniary malversation, and ended by his
being sentenced to pay a considerable fine, the amount of which is
differently reported--fifteen, fifty, or eighty talents, by different
authors. The accusing party thus appeared to have carried their point,
and to have disgraced, as well as excluded from reelection, the veteran
statesman. The event, however, disappointed their expectations. The
imposition of the fine not only satiated all the irritation of the
people against him, but even occasioned a serious reaction in his favor,
and brought back as strongly as ever the ancient sentiment of esteem and
admiration. It was quickly found that those who had succeeded Pericles
as generals neither possessed nor deserved in an equal degree the public
confidence. He was accordingly soon reelected, with as much power and
influence as he had ever in his life enjoyed.
But that life, long, honorable, and useful, had already been prolonged
considerably beyond the sixtieth year, and there were but too many
circumstances, besides the recent fine, which tended to hasten as well
as to embitter its close. At the very moment when Pericles was preaching
to his countrymen, in a tone almost reproachful, the necessity of manful
and unabated devotion to the common country in the midst of private
suffering, he was himself among the greatest of sufferers, and most
hardly pressed to set the example of observing his own precepts. The
epidemic carried off not merely his two sons--the only two legitimate,
Xanthippus and Paralus--but also his sister, several other relatives,
and his best and most useful political friends. Amid this train of
domestic calamities, and in the funeral obsequies of so many of his
dearest friends, he remained master of his grief, and maintained his
habitual self-command, until the last misfortune--the death of his
favorite son Paralus, which left his house without any legitimate
representative to maintain the family and the hereditary sacred rites.
On this final blow, though he strove to command himself as before, yet
at the obsequies of the young man, when it became his duty to place a
wreath on the dead body, his grief became uncontrollable, and he burst
out, for the first time in his life, into profuse tears and sobbing.
In the midst of these several personal trials he received the
intimation, through Alcibiades and some other friends, of the restored
confidence of the people toward him, and of his reelection to the office
of strategus. But it was not without difficulty that he was persuaded to
present himself again at the public assembly and resume the direction of
affairs. The regret of the people was formally expressed to him for the
recent sentence--perhaps, indeed, the fine may have been repaid to him,
or some evasion of it permitted, saving the forms of law--in the present
temper of the city; which was further displayed toward him by the grant
of a remarkable exemption from a law of his own original proposition.
He had himself, some years before, been the author of that law whereby
the citizenship of Athens was restricted to persons born both of
Athenian fathers and Athenian mothers, under which restriction several
thousand persons, illegitimate on the mother's side, are said to have
been deprived of the citizenship, on occasion of a public distribution
of corn. Invidious as it appeared to grant, to Pericles singly, an
exemption from a law which had been strictly enforced against so many
others, the people were now moved not less by compassion than by anxiety
to redress their own previous severity. Without a legitimate heir, the
house of Pericles, one branch of the great Alcmaeonid gens by his
mother's side, would be left deserted, and the continuity of the family
sacred rites would be broken--a misfortune painfully felt by every
Athenian family, as calculated to wrong all the deceased members, and
provoke their posthumous displeasure toward the city. Accordingly,
permission was granted to Pericles to legitimize, and to inscribe in his
own gens and phratry, his natural son by Aspasia, who bore his own name.
It was thus that Pericles was reinstated in his post of strategus as
well as in his ascendency over the public counsels--seemingly about
August or September, B.C. 430. He lived about one year longer, and seems
to have maintained his influence as long as his health permitted. Yet we
hear nothing of him after this moment, and he fell a victim, not to the
violent symptoms of the epidemic, but to a slow and wearing fever, which
undermined his strength as well as his capacity. To a friend who came to
ask after him when in this disease, Pericles replied by showing a charm
or amulet which his female relations had hung about his neck--a proof
how low he was reduced, and how completely he had become a passive
subject in the hands of others.
And according to another anecdote which we read--yet more interesting
and equally illustrative of his character--it was during his last
moments, when he was lying apparently unconscious and insensible, that
the friends around his bed were passing in review the acts of his life,
and the nine trophies which he had erected at different times for so
many victories. He heard what they said, though they fancied that he was
past hearing, and interrupted them by remarking: "What you praise in my
life belongs partly to good fortune--and is, at best, common to me with
many other generals. But the peculiarity of which I am most proud, you
have not noticed--no Athenian has ever put on mourning through any
action of mine."
DEFEAT OF THE ATHENIANS AT SYRACUSE
B.C. 413
SIR EDWARD SHEPHERD CREASY
(That great writer of the history of the Romans, Thomas Arnold, says of
the defeat of the Athenian fleet at Syracuse: "The Romans knew not, and
could not know, how deeply the greatness of their own posterity, and the
fate of the whole western world, were involved in the destruction of the
fleet of Athens in the harbor of Syracuse. Had that great expedition
proved victorious, the energies of Greece during the next eventful
century would have found their field in the West no less than in the
East; Greece, and not Rome; might have conquered Carthage; Greek instead
of Latin might have been at this day the principal element of the
language of Spain, of France, and of Italy; and the laws of Athens,
rather than of Rome, might be the foundation of the law of the civilized
world."
The foregoing, the author's own selection, really sums up all that need
be said as to the importance of the great event so finely treated by
Creasy.)
Few cities have undergone more memorable sieges during ancient and
mediaeval times than has the city of Syracuse. Athenian, Carthaginian,
Roman, Vandal, Byzantine, Saracen, and Norman have in turns beleaguered
her walls; and the resistance which she successfully opposed to some of
her early assailants was of the deepest importance, not only to the
fortunes of the generations then in being, but to all the subsequent
current of human events. To adopt the eloquent expressions of Arnold
respecting the check which she gave to the Carthaginian arms, "Syracuse
was a breakwater which God's providence raised up to protect the yet
immature strength of Rome." And her triumphant repulse of the great
Athenian expedition against her was of even more widespread and enduring
importance. It forms a decisive epoch in the strife for universal
empire, in which all the great states of antiquity successively engaged
and failed.
The present city of Syracuse is a place of little or no military
strength, as the fire of artillery from the neighboring heights would
almost completely command it. But in ancient warfare its position, and
the care bestowed on its walls, rendered it formidably strong against
the means of offence which were then employed by besieging armies.
The ancient city, in its most prosperous times, was chiefly built on the
knob of land which projects into the sea on the eastern coast of Sicily,
between two bays; one of which, to the north, was called the Bay of
Thapsus, while the southern one formed the great harbor of the city of
Syracuse itself. A small island, or peninsula (for such it soon was
rendered), lies at the southeastern extremity of this knob of land,
stretching almost entirely across the mouth of the great harbor, and
rendering it nearly land-locked. This island comprised the original
settlement of the first Greek colonists from Corinth, who founded
Syracuse two thousand five hundred years ago; and the modern city has
shrunk again into these primary limits. But, in the fifth century before
our era, the growing wealth and population of the Syracusans had led
them to occupy and include within their city walls portion after portion
of the mainland lying next to the little isle, so that at the time of
the Athenian expedition the seaward part of the land between the two
bays already spoken of was built over, and fortified from bay to bay,
and constituted the larger part of Syracuse.
The landward wall, therefore, of this district of the city traversed
this knob of land, which continues to slope upward from the sea, and
which, to the west of the old fortifications, that is, toward the
interior of Sicily, rises rapidly for a mile or two, but diminishes in
width, and finally terminates in a long narrow ridge, between which and
Mount Hybla a succession of chasms and uneven low ground extends. On
each flank of this ridge the descent is steep and precipitous from its
summits to the strips of level land that lie immediately below it, both
to the southwest and northwest.
The usual mode of assailing fortified towns in the time of the
Peloponnesian war was to build a double wall round them sufficiently
strong to check any sally of the garrison from within or any attack of a
relieving force from without. The interval within the two walls of the
circumvallation was roofed over, and formed barracks, in which the
besiegers posted themselves, and awaited the effects of want or
treachery among the besieged in producing a surrender; and in every
Greek city of those days, as in every Italian republic of the Middle
Ages, the rage of domestic sedition between aristocrats and democrats
ran high. Rancorous refugees swarmed in the camp of every invading
enemy; and every blockaded city was sure to contain within its walls a
body of intriguing malcontents, who were eager to purchase a party
triumph at the expense of a national disaster. Famine and faction were
the allies on whom besiegers relied. The generals of that time trusted
to the operation of these sure confederates as soon as they could
establish a complete blockade. They rarely ventured on the attempt to
storm any fortified post, for the military engines of antiquity were
feeble in breaching masonry before the improvements which the first
Dionysius effected in the mechanics of destruction; and the lives of
spearmen the boldest and most high-trained would, of course, have been
idly spent in charges against unshattered walls.
A city built close to the sea, like Syracuse, was impregnable save by
the combined operations of a superior hostile fleet and a superior
hostile army; and Syracuse, from her size, her population, and her
military and naval resources, not unnaturally thought herself secure
from finding in another Greek city a foe capable of sending a sufficient
armament to menace her with capture and subjection. But in the spring of
B.C. 414 the Athenian navy was mistress of her harbor and the adjacent
seas; an Athenian army had defeated her troops, and cooped them within
the town; and from bay to bay a blockading wall was being rapidly
carried across the strips of level ground and the high ridge outside the
city (then termed Epipolae), which, if completed, would have cut the
Syracusans off from all succor from the interior of Sicily, and have
left them at the mercy of the Athenian generals. The besiegers' works
were, indeed, unfinished; but every day the unfortified interval in
their lines grew narrower, and with it diminished all apparent hope of
safety for the beleaguered town.
Athens was now staking the flower of her forces, and the accumulated
fruits of seventy years of glory, on one bold throw for the dominion of
the western world. As Napoleon from Mount Coeur de Lion pointed to St.
Jean d'Acre, and told his staff that the capture of that town would
decide his destiny and would change the face of the world, so the
Athenian officers, from the heights of Epipolae, must have looked on
Syracuse, and felt that with its fall all the known powers of the earth
would fall beneath them. They must have felt also that Athens, if
repulsed there, must pause forever from her career of conquest, and sink
from an imperial republic into a ruined and subservient community.
At Marathon, the first in date of the great battles of the world, we
beheld Athens struggling for self-preservation against the invading
armies of the East. At Syracuse she appears as the ambitious and
oppressive invader of others. In her, as in other republics of old and
of modern times, the same energy that had inspired the most heroic
efforts in defence of the national independence soon learned to employ
itself in daring and unscrupulous schemes of self-aggrandizement at the
expense of neighboring nations. In the interval between the Persian and
the Peloponnesian wars she had rapidly grown into a conquering and
dominant state, the chief of a thousand tributary cities, and the
mistress of the largest and best-manned navy that the Mediterranean had
yet beheld. The occupations of her territory by Xerxes and Mardonius, in
the second Persian war, had forced her whole population to become
marines; and the glorious results of that struggle confirmed them in
their zeal for their country's service at sea.