During the whole of the following spring [Footnote: B.C. 415.]
preparations for the invasion of Sicily were actively pushed on, and
the whole city was in a bustle and stir of excitement. Athens had
recently recovered from the ravages of the plague, and six years of
peace had recruited her resources, both in men and money. Since the
first outbreak of the war a new generation had grown up, and these
young and untried spirits joined, with all the fire of youth, in an
enterprise which promised them a boundless field of adventure. Others
were attracted by the baser motive of gain, or by mere curiosity, and
the love of travel. No thought of danger or hardship, no hint of
possible failure, clouded the brilliant prospect; it was a gay holiday
excursion, and at the same time a grand scheme of conquest, offering
fame to the ambitious, wealth to the needy, and pleasant recreation to
all. Thousands flocked eagerly to enter their names for the service,
and the only trouble of the recruiting officers was in choosing the
stoutest and the best.
The great armament was on the eve of departure, and all hearts were
full of joyful anticipation, when an event occurred which suddenly
chilled this happy mood, and cast a shadow of evil augury on the whole
undertaking. The Athenians of that age, like their descendants nearly
five centuries later, [Footnote: See Acts xvii. 22.] were "more
god-fearing than other men." They worshipped a multitude of divinities,
and their city was thronged with the temples and statues of heroes and
gods. Conspicuous among the objects of popular adoration was the god
Hermes, who is exhibited by ancient poets and artists as a gracious and
lovely youth, the special patron of eloquence and wit, the guardian
spirit of travellers and merchants, and the giver of good luck. A
familiar feature in the streets and public places of Athens was the
bust of Hermes, surmounting a quadrangular stone pillar. Many hundreds
of these pillars, which were called Hermae, were scattered about over
the whole city, standing before the doors of houses and temples, at
cross-ways and places of public resort. Wherever he went, whatever he
did, the Athenian felt himself to be in the presence of this genial and
friendly power, who attended him, with more than human sympathy, in all
his ways.
If such were the feelings of the Athenians towards their favourite
deity, what must have been their horror when they awoke one morning to
find that all the busts of Hermes, with one or two exceptions, were
shattered and mutilated beyond all recognition. The whole population
was thunderstruck, and wild rumours ran from mouth to mouth concerning
the perpetrators and the motive of this shocking outrage. It was
evident that many hands must have been employed on the work of
destruction, and those who had so foully insulted the most hallowed
affections of their fellow-citizens were believed to be capable of any
enormity. It was loudly asserted that a black conspiracy was hatching
against the liberties of the people, and that the worst days of the
tyranny were about to be revived. For in those days religion and
politics were associated with a closeness of intimacy unknown in modern
Europe, and sacrilege might well be regarded as a prelude to treason.
Active measures were at once taken to bring the offenders to justice,
and great rewards were offered to anyone, whether citizen, slave, or
resident foreigner, who gave information concerning this or any similar
crime. At first nothing was disclosed as to the mutilation of the
Hermae, but other recent acts of profanation were brought to light, and
among these was mentioned a derisive parody of the great Eleusinian
Mysteries, alleged to have been performed in the house of Alcibiades,
and elsewhere. The enemies of Alcibiades, who were both numerous and
powerful, eagerly seized this handle against him; but when the matter
was debated in the public assembly, it became evident that, if he were
brought to trial at once, his present popularity, as chief promoter of
the Sicilian expedition, would ensure his acquittal. Seeing, therefore,
that their attack had been premature, those who had led the outcry
against him now drew back, reserving themselves for a more favourable
occasion. Being known as the bitter opponents of Alcibiades, they could
not, without exciting grave suspicions, propose the adjournment of his
trial; but other speakers, prompted by them, urged on grounds of public
expediency that the charges against him should be held in suspense, so
as not to delay the departure of the fleet. Alcibiades saw plainly that
this manoeuvre was contrived to get him out of the way, to remove his
adherents from Athens, and leave his enemies free to pursue their
machinations during his absence. But it was in vain that he exposed the
malicious motives of the last speakers, and pleaded earnestly for an
immediate trial. The Athenians were still possessed by their daring
scheme of conquest, and they decreed that Alcibiades should keep his
command, and sail at once to Sicily.