II

When Cleon arrived at Pylos with his forces, he found Demosthenes

engaged in active preparations for an attack on the island. For his

troops were growing impatient, and clamouring to be led into action,

and a happy accident had recently occurred, which greatly increased the

prospect of success. Till quite lately Sphacteria had been covered with

a dense growth of underwood, and Demosthenes knew by his experience in

Aetolia that an attacking force would be at a great disadvantage in

marching against an enemy who fought under cover, and knew every inch

of the ground. But a party of Athenian soldiers, who had landed on the

island to cook their breakfast, accidentally set fire to the brushwood,

and a wind springing up, the flames were carried over the greater part

of the island, leaving it a blackened waste. Demosthenes now discovered

that the besieged Spartans were more numerous than he had supposed,

having hitherto believed that their number had been purposely

exaggerated, to give an excuse for sending more food; and the main

obstacle being now removed, he issued the welcome order to make ready

for an immediate assault.

When he received his commission, Cleon had prudently stipulated that

Demosthenes should be associated with him in the command. The two

ill-assorted colleagues--the turbulent demagogue, and the veteran

general--now took counsel together, and after a last fruitless attempt

at negotiation, they set sail at night with a force of eight hundred

hoplites, and disembarking just before dawn on both sides of the island

at once, led their men at a run against the first guard-station of the

Spartans. They found the enemy posted in three divisions: the first,

consisting of thirty hoplites, formed an advanced guard; some distance

behind these, where the ground forms a shallow basin, containing the

only spring in the island, was stationed the main body, commanded by

Epitadas; and at the extreme north, opposite Pylos, there was a small

reserve force, left to guard a sort of natural citadel, which would

serve as a last retreat, if Epitadas and his men were overpowered.

The thirty Spartans in the outpost were taken by surprise, and cut down

to a man; for though they had seen the Athenian ships putting out, they

had no suspicion of what was intended, supposing that they were merely

proceeding to their anchorage for the night. At daybreak the rest of

the fleet put in at the island, bringing the whole of the forces which

Demosthenes had at his disposal, except a few, who were left to

garrison the fort at Pylos. They were a motley host, armed for the most

part with slings, javelins, and bows, but admirably suited for the work

which was to be done. Swarming over the island by hundreds and by

thousands they took up their stations on every piece of rising ground,

threatening the enemy in front, in the rear, on the right flank, and on

the left. The Spartans, in their heavy armour, were helpless against

these agile foes, who eluded every attempt to come to close quarters,

and kept up a continual shower of arrows, javelins, and stones. Such

had been the orders of Demosthenes, which were now carried into effect.

When the Spartans under Epitadas saw their advanced guard cut up, and

the Athenians marching against them, they drew up in order, and tried

to come within spear-thrust of the enemy; but they were unable to

effect their purpose, for the Athenian hoplites kept their ground, and

at the same moment they themselves were assailed on both flanks and in

the rear by a cloud of light infantry. It was a kind of warfare to

which the Spartans were totally unaccustomed: if they attempted to

advance, their nimble assailants drew back, and pursuit was impossible

on the rocky and broken ground. For a time the light-armed troops

approached them with caution, being somewhat cowed in spirit when

brought face to face with the renowned warriors of Sparta, hitherto

supposed to be invincible. But seeing how the Spartans were

embarrassed, they took courage, and came on in a roaring multitude,

surrounding them on all sides, and leaving them not a moment to take

breath. The air was darkened by a tempest of missiles; and a fine dust,

caused by the ashes of the late fire, rose in choking clouds from the

trampling of many feet. Exhausted by their violent exertions, stunned

by the uproar, and blinded by the dust, the Spartans began to give

ground, and closing their ranks fell back on the stronghold where their

reserve was stationed. They were hotly pursued, and some few were cut

off in the retreat, but the greater part succeeded in reaching the

fort, where they turned at bay, and prepared to defend themselves to

the last. Until a late hour in the day the Athenians made vain attempts

to dislodge them from their position, which was only assailable in

front. At last, when both sides were sorely distressed by the long

conflict under a burning sun, an officer who was in command of the

Messenian troops came to the generals, and offered, if they would place

a few light-armed soldiers at his disposal, to lead them up the

precipitous cliffs at the northern end of Sphacteria, and take the

Spartans in the rear. Permission being readily granted, he chose his

men, and taking care that his movements were not perceived by the

enemy, made his way with them along the perilous and slippery face of

the cliffs to the rear of the beleaguered garrison, scaled the steep

ascent, and suddenly appearing on the heights, struck terror into the

Spartans, and gave fresh courage to their assailants.

The situation of the Spartans was now similar to that of their

ancestors when they made their last stand at Thermopylae. They were

attacked in front and rear, and hemmed in on both sides by the natural

difficulties of the place. In their weak and exhausted condition it

would have been an easy task to make an end of them. But the great

object of Cleon and Demosthenes was to take them alive. They therefore

suspended the attack, and sent a herald, and summoned them to lay down

their arms. When they heard the proclamation, most of them lowered

their shields, and waved their hands in the air, to show that they had

dropped their weapons. The Athenian generals then entered into a parley

with Styphon the third in command of the Spartans; for Epitadas, the

chief officer, was slain, and Hippagretus, the second, had been left

for dead on the field. Styphon requested permission to communicate with

the Spartan authorities on the mainland, and ask what he and his

comrades were to do; and the Athenian commanders sent one of their own

men to carry the message. Having heard his report, the Spartan

magistrates sent a herald to see how matters stood; and after more than

one messenger had passed to and fro between their camp and the island,

they sent their final instructions, conveyed in these words "The

Spartans bid you to decide for yourselves, but to do nothing

dishonourable."

Fifty years before, these wounded and weary men would have needed no

instructions to tell them their duty. According to the ancient

tradition of Sparta they had but one course open to them--to die at

their posts. But the lapse of time had softened the stern fibre of the

Spartan character; and the broken remnant now brought to bay in

Sphacteria interpreted the ambiguous mandate in their own favour, and

surrendered themselves and their arms.

The number of the prisoners was two hundred and ninety-two, of whom

about a hundred and twenty were Spartans of pure descent, several of

them belonging to the highest families in Sparta. They were distributed

among the captains of the fleet for transportation to Athens. Dating

from the first sea-fight, the siege had lasted altogether seventy-two

days; and during seven weeks of this period they had subsisted on the

casual supplies smuggled over by the blockade-runners from the

mainland. Great was the joy at Athens when that costly freight was

brought safely into the harbour of Peiraeus; and Cleon, whose bustling

energy had really helped to precipitate a crisis, was the hero of the

hour. He had promised to settle the business, one way or the other,

within twenty days, and this promise, which had been laughed at as a

piece of crazy vanity, was fulfilled to the letter. The whole merit of

the performance, however, belonged to Demosthenes, who had planned the

attack on Sphacteria with admirable sagacity, and led the operations

from first to last.

The surrender of a picked troop of Spartan warriors caused a revolution

of feeling throughout Greece. Hitherto it had been assumed as a matter

of course that no Spartan soldier, in any circumstances, would yield to

an enemy; but now more than a hundred Spartans had preferred life to

honour. It was generally believed that the survivors were inferior in

valour to those who had fallen; and some time afterwards one of the

captives was asked this insulting question by one of the Athenian

allies: "Your _brave_ comrades were buried on the field, I suppose?"

The Spartan's answer was couched in a riddle: "It would be a mighty

clever spindle, [Footnote: Arrow.] which singled out the brave." His

meaning was that the stones and arrows had dealt out death among his

comrades without distinction.