The group that attended Lysander continued to swell as he mounted the
acclivity on which his parental home was placed. The houses of the
Spartan proprietors were at that day not closely packed together as in
the dense population of commercial towns. More like the villas of a
suburb, they lay a little apart, on the unequal surface of the rugged
ground, perfectly plain and unadorned, covering a large space with
ample court-yards, closed in, in front of the narrow streets. And
still was in force the primitive law which ordained that doorways
should be shaped only by the saw, and the ceilings by the axe; but in
contrast to the rudeness of the private houses, at every opening in
the street were seen the Doric pillars or graceful stairs of a temple;
and high over all dominated the Tower-hill, or Acropolis, with the
antique fane of Pallas Chalcioecus.
And so, loud and joyous, the procession bore the young warrior to the
threshold of his home. It was an act of public honour to his fair
repute and his proven valour. And the Spartan felt as proud of that
unceremonious attendance as ever did Roman chief sweeping under arches
of triumph in the curule car.
At the threshold of the door stood his mother--for the tidings of his
coming had preceded him--and his little brothers and sisters. His step
quickened at the sight of these beloved faces.
"Bound forward, Lysander," said one of the train; "thou hast won the
right to thy mother's kiss."
"But fail us not at the pheidition before sunset," cried another.
"Every one of the obe will send his best contribution to the feast to
welcome thee back. We shall have a rare banquet of it."
And so, as his mother drew him within the doors, his arm round her
waist, and the children clung to his cloak, to his knees, or sprung up
to claim his kiss, the procession set up a kind of chaunted shout, and
left the warrior in his home.
"Oh, this is joy, joy!" said Lysander, with sweet tears in his eyes,
as he sat in the women's apartment, his mother by his side, and the
little ones round him. "Where, save in Sparta, does a man love a
home?"
And this exclamation, which might have astonished an Ionian--seeing
how much the Spartan civilians merged the individual in the state--was
yet true, where the Spartan was wholly Spartan, where, by habit and
association, he had learned to love the severities of the existence
that surrounded him, and where the routine of duties which took him
from his home, whether for exercises or the public tables, made yet
more precious the hours of rest and intimate intercourse with his
family. For the gay pleasures and lewd resorts of other Greek cities
were not known to the Spartan. Not for him were the cook-shops and
baths and revels of Ionian idlers. When the State ceased to claim him,
he had nothing but his Home.
As Lysander thus exclaimed, the door of the room had opened
noiselessly, and Agesilaus stood unperceived at the entrance, and
overheard his son. His face brightened singularly at Lysander's words.
He came forward and opened his arms.
"Embrace me now, my boy! my brave boy! embrace me now! The Ephors are
not here."
Lysander turned, sprang up, and was in his father's arms.
"So thou art not changed. Byzantium has not spoiled thee. Thy name
is uttered with praise unmixed with fear. All Persia's gold, all the
great king's Satrapies could not medize my Lysander. Ah," continued
the father, turning to his wife, "who could have predicted the
happiness of this hour? Poor child! he was born sickly. Hera had
already given us more sons than we could provide for, ere our lands
were increased by the death of thy childless relatives. Wife, wife!
when the family council ordained him to be exposed on Taˇgetus, when
thou didst hide thyself lest thy tears should be seen, and my voice
trembled as I said 'Be the laws obeyed,' who could have guessed that
the gods would yet preserve him to be the pride of our house? Blessed
be Zeus the saviour and Hercules the warrior!"
"And," said the mother, "blessed be Pausanias, the descendant of
Hercules, who took the forlorn infant to his father's home, and who
has reared him now to be the example of Spartan youths."
"Ah," said Lysander, looking up into his father's eyes, "if I can ever
be worthy of your love, O my father, forget not, I pray thee, that it
is to Pausanias I owe life, home, and a Spartan's glorious destiny."
"I forget it not," answered Agesilaus, with a mournful and serious
expression of countenance. "And on this I would speak to thee. Thy
mother must spare thee awhile to me. Come. I lean on thy shoulder
instead of my staff."
Agesilaus led his son into the large hall, which was the main chamber
of the house; and pacing up and down the wide and solitary floor,
questioned him closely as to the truth of the stories respecting the
Regent which had reached the Ephors.
"Thou must speak with naked heart to me," said Agesilaus; "for I tell
thee that, if I am Spartan, I am also man and father; and I would
serve him, who saved thy life and taught thee how to fight for thy
country, in every way that may be lawful to a Spartan and a Greek."
Thus addressed, and convinced of his father's sincerity, Lysander
replied with ingenuous and brief simplicity. He granted that Pausanias
had exposed himself with a haughty imprudence, which it was difficult
to account for, to the charges of the Ionians. "But," he added, with
that shrewd observation which his affection for Pausanias rather than
his experience of human nature had taught him--"But we must remember
that in Pausanias we are dealing with no ordinary man. If he has
faults of judgment, which a Spartan rarely commits, he has, O my
father, a force of intellect and passion, which a Spartan as rarely
knows. Shall I tell you the truth? Our State is too small for him.
But would it not have been too small for Hercules? Would the laws of
Aegimius have permitted Hercules to perform his labours and achieve
his conquests? This vast and fiery nature suddenly released from the
cramps of our customs, which Pausanias never in his youth regarded
save as galling, expands itself, as an eagle long caged would
outspread its wings."
"I comprehend," said Agesilaus thoughtfully, and somewhat sadly.
"There have been moments in my own life when I regarded Sparta as a
prison. In my early manhood I was sent on a mission to Corinth. Its
pleasures, its wild tumult of gay licence dazzled and inebriated me.
I said, 'This it is to live.' I came back to Sparta sullen and
discontented. But then, happily, I saw thy mother at the festival of
Diana--we loved each other, we married--and when I was permitted to
take her to my home, I became sobered and was a Spartan again. I
comprehend. Poor Pausanias! But luxury and pleasure, though they charm
awhile, do not fill up the whole of a soul like that of our Heracleid.
From these he may recover; but Ambition--that is the true liver of
Tantalus, and grows larger under the beak that feeds on it. What is
his ambition, if Sparta be too small for him?
"I think his ambition would be to make Sparta as big as himself."
Agesilaus stroked his chin musingly.
"And how?"
"I cannot tell, I can only guess. But the Persian war, if I may judge
by what I hear and see, cannot roll away and leave the boundaries
of each Greek State the same. Two States now stand forth prominent,
Athens and Sparta. Themistocles and Cimon aim at making Athens the
head of Hellas, Perhaps Pausanias aims to effect for Sparta what they
would effect for Athens."
"And what thinkest thou of such a scheme?"
"Ask me not. I am too young, too inexperienced, and perhaps too
Spartan to answer rightly."
"Too Spartan, because thou art too covetous of power for Sparta."
"Too Spartan, because I may be too anxious to keep Sparta what she
is."
Agesilaus smiled. "We are of the same mind, my son. Think not that the
rocky defiles which enclose us shut out from our minds all the ideas
that new circumstance strikes from Time. I have meditated on what thou
sayest Pausanias may scheme. It is true that the invasion of the Mede
must tend to raise up one State in Greece to which the others will
look for a head. I have asked myself, can Sparta be that State? and my
reason tells me, No. Sparta is lost if she attempt it. She may become
something else, but she cannot be Sparta. Such a State must become
maritime, and depend on fleets. Our inland situation forbids this.
True we have ports in which the Perioeci flourish; but did we use them
for a permanent policy the Perioeci must become our masters. These
five villages would be abandoned for a mart on the sea-shore. This
mother of men would be no more. A State that so aspires must have
ample wealth at its command. We have none. We might raise tribute from
other Greek cities, but for that purpose we must have fleets again,
to overawe and compel, for no tribute will be long voluntary. A state
that would be the active governor of Hellas must have lives to spare
in abundance. We have none, unless we always do hereafter as we did
at Plataea, raise an army of Helots--seven Helots to one Spartan. How
long, if we did so, would the Helots obey us, and meanwhile how would
our lands be cultivated? A State that would be the centre of Greece,
must cultivate all that can charm and allure strangers. We banish
strangers, and what charms and allures them would womanize us. More
than all, a State that would obtain the sympathies of the turbulent
Hellenic populations, must have the most popular institutions. It
must be governed by a Demus, We are an Oligarchic Aristocracy--a
disciplined camp of warriors, not a licentious Agora. Therefore,
Sparta cannot assume the head of a Greek Confederacy except in the
rare seasons of actual war; and the attempt to make her the head of
such a confederacy would cause changes so repugnant to our manners and
habits, that it would be fraught with destruction to him who made the
attempt, or to us if he succeeded. Wherefore, to sum up, the ambition
of Pausanias is in this impracticable, and must be opposed."
"And Athens," cried Lysander, with a slight pang of natural and
national jealousy, "Athens then must wrest from Pausanias the hegemony
he now holds for Sparta, and Athens must be what the Athenian ambition
covets."
"We cannot help it--she must; but can it last?--Impossible. And woe to
her if she ever comes in contact with the bronze of Laconian shields.
But in the meanwhile, what is to be done with this great and awful
Heracleid? They accuse him of medising, of secret conspiracy with
Persia itself. Can that be possible?
"If so, it is but to use Persia on behalf of Sparta. If he would
subdue Greece, it is not for the king, it is for the race of
Hercules."
"Ay, ay, ay," cried Agesilaus, shading his face with his hand. "All
becomes clear to me now. Listen. Did I openly defend Pausanias before
the Ephors, I should injure his cause. But when they talk of his
betraying Hellas and Sparta, I place before them nakedly and broadly
their duty if that charge be true. For if true, O my son, Pausanias
must die as criminals die."
"Die--criminal--an Heracleid--king's blood--the victor of Plataea--my
friend Pausanias!"
"Rather he than Sparta. What sayest thou?"
"Neither, neither," exclaimed Lysander, wringing his
hands--"impossible both."
"Impossible both, be it so. I place before the Ephors the terrors of
accrediting that charge, in order that they may repudiate it. For the
lesser ones it matters not; he is in no danger there, save that of
fine. And his gold," added Agesilaus with a curved lip of disdain,
"will both condemn and save him. For the rest, I would spare him the
dishonour of being publicly recalled, and to say truth, I would save
Sparta the peril she might incur from his wrath, if she inflicted on
him that slight. But mark me, he himself must resign his command,
voluntarily, and return to Sparta. Better so for him and his pride,
for he cannot keep the hegemony against the will of the Ionians,
whose fleet is so much larger than ours, and it is to his gain if his
successor lose it, not he. But better, not only for his pride, but
for his glory and his name, that he should come from these scenes of
fierce temptation, and, since birth made him a Spartan, learn here
again to conform to what he cannot change. I have spoken thus plainly
to thee. Use the words I have uttered as thou best may, after thy
return to Pausanias, which I will strive to make speedy. But while
we talk there goes on danger--danger still of his abrupt recall--for
there are those who will seize every excuse for it. Enough of these
grave matters: the sun is sinking towards the west, and thy companions
await thee at thy feast; mine will be eager to greet me on thy return,
and thy little brothers, who go with me to my pheidition, will hear
thee so praised that they will long for the crypteia--long to be men,
and find some future Plataea for themselves. May the gods forbid it!
War is a terrible unsettler. Time saps States as a tide the cliff. War
is an inundation, and when it ebbs, a landmark has vanished."