Γλυκὺ δ’ ἀπείροιοι πόλεμος.—PINDAR.
‘Sweet seemeth war to those who know naught of it.’
THE day after the meeting of the Assembly which has just been described
saw another, and a very different, scene enacted in the streets and
ports of Athens. The great fleet was just about to sail. At dawn the
accused general rode at the head of the departing troops from the city
to Peiræus. Alkibiades rode on his good horse Ephialtes, the horse his
first-born son had loved, and which had been called after him.
He had bidden a long farewell to the old paternal mansion, when Amykla
brought the infant Alkibiades, that his father might embrace him ere he
left. But this was no time for sentiment. He was about to do, to be,
that which he had desired to do and be ever since he was a boy playing
with his schoolmates in the very streets he was now to march through
proudly.
These streets were lined with the thronging populace as the troops
marched by. Multitudes followed them upon the way. All who had brothers,
sons, beloved ones, among them followed. When they reached the port,
there lay the big warships decked out magnificently. The impatient
Lamachos had already been on board his vessel for some time, chafing at
the delay, caring little for the doings at the Ekklesia. All he cared
for was to be at Syrakuse, fighting the Syrakusans. As for Nikias, he
had stolen down the night before, not sure of the reception the populace
might give him after the conduct of Pythonikos.
Flowers decked the great triremes from prow to stern, silver goblets
glittered on the higher decks. All was jollity as the hoplites, the
archers, and the other light-armed soldiers, and a small force of
cavalry, marched on board the transport ships. They were not long in
embarkation. Then the trumpets sounded, and the whole army stood upon
the decks, Alkibiades upon the stern-deck of his _Eros_, the finest
trireme of them all, built and furnished at his own expense.
The heralds prayed the gods, and especially Poseidôn and the god of war,
and Pallas, to be propitious to them, favouring their arms. Then every
one of the soldiers, even the humblest marine, poured forth libations.
This was a scene never to be forgotten by the vast crowd who saw it, as
every soldier poured out libations from silver cups, the higher officers
from golden vessels, to the gods.
The multitudes upon the quays joined in the prayers, and echoed back the
sacred hymns and pæans boasting of success, when the rowers took their
places, and when to the time chanted by their leader, with rhythmic oar
they struck the old Aigaian waters. And the great ships one by one filed
out of the Peiræus.
The August sun shone on the brazen shields and breast-plates, and was
reflected on the spears and swords of that strong host, which thus left
Athens splendidly. How many of them, ships or men, were ever again to
see the much-loved city? Loud cries of confidence and farewell, echoing
along the shore, followed them upon their way, and then the sailors,
warriors, and Alkibiades saw last of all the great Akropolis and the
statue of Athene.
It was with an exulting heart that, standing on the stern, he caught the
last sight of that fair city. But had he a prescient foresight even now
of the years which must pass over him and Athens, of all he was about to
suffer, of the sins against her he was to commit, before he should next
time look upon the virgin goddess and her holy temple? Perhaps it might
be such prophetic vision, or perchance only the result of the pain he
had suffered, the indignation he had felt, or a natural reaction after
the excitement of the long day’s work—the greatest day, perhaps, but one
of all his troubled life—certain it was he felt unsatisfied and almost
gloomy. There seemed to be something floating between him and victory as
he stood there—something coming and going between him and his future
fame. He was half inclined to believe it was a guide, a monitor, a
daimôn, such as Sokrates had told him of, that was warning him, but with
a voice so indistinct he could scarcely understand it, telling him he
was entering upon a path that would lead him far away.
His sensitive and nervous nature—for with all his readiness and boldness
he was sensitive and nervous—had recoiled before the charges brought
against him. Perhaps this accounted for his feeling. His intelligence
penetrated the designs of insidious enemies, capable of any secret crime
against him, or against the state, so they might gratify their hate. He
believed—and history has supported him in his belief—that the outrage
upon unoffending statues of a beneficent god was the clumsy act of a
band of unknown enemies, who thought, in some vague way, they might fix
the crime on him; that, failing in that scheme, some of them had then,
by a more artful and dangerous plan, suborned a slave, and instructed
him to make a specific charge against him when he was on the eve of
leaving Athens.
In his secret soul he feared their machinations while he was away, with
no one at home to stamp the poison out, as he could have done had he
been there. His soul revolted from the injustice of it all; and as he
stood out to sea, his highest hopes apparently attained, one of the
commanders of the grandest expedition Athens had ever ventured on the
waves, there was a melancholy, a feeling of unrest, of aspirations even
now unsatisfied. And when the night fell, and the lights grew indistinct
along the coast, as he turned him in to sleep he sighed.
The fleet arrived prosperously at Korkyra. The land forces were more
than doubled by Ionians and Korkyræans and others they found waiting for
them there, all eager to take a part in the great invasion. Thirty-six
triremes were added to the fleet. One hundred and thirty-six ships of
all sorts rode proudly in the harbour when the three generals reviewed
their troops. Everything was ready for a descent upon Sicily. The fleet
was divided into three divisions, under the three commanders, and all
set out for Italy.
At Rhegion the generals combined their forces and held a council. Nikias
was of opinion they should sail to Selinous, force the inhabitants to do
right to the Egestæans, make a demonstration before the chief Sicilian
cities, victual the fleet, and return to Athens. Lamachos was for a very
different course—sail straight for Syrakuse, land the troops hard by,
destroy the forts, force the harbour, and while the fleet was attacking
it by sea, march the troops upon the town and take it before it could
recover from its surprise or put itself into a fit state of defence.
Alkibiades showed foresight as well as courage. He discerned the motives
of the mean-souled Nikias, as well as the danger of his impulsive
colleague’s plan. Nikias had opposed the enterprise from the beginning,
and had prophesied its failure. He was now doing worse, for he was
advocating a course which would make his prophecy come true, and had
urged the adoption of that course with all his energy. Alkibiades wanted
to be able to point to the effect of following his rival’s counsel.
‘What!’ said he, ‘take this vast fleet back again, that has cost the
Athenians and their allies so much—take it back before we have done
anything but make a vain show before the ports of Sicily! I should be
ashamed to face my fellow-citizens. Besides, you must remember more than
half our force is not Athenian; it has been furnished by allies. What
will _they_ say who have readily brought with us their contingents to
rescue their friends and colonies from the clutches of the Syrakusans
and the other domineering cities? My advice is to discover what trusty
friends we have in Sicily, and endeavour to make others, so as to get a
sure basis in the island, before delivering our main attack upon the
front of the offending.
‘It is the part of a prudent general not to land his forces in an
unknown country before he has discovered what the resources of the
country are and what is the strength of the city he is going to assault,
lest, if he should happen not to meet with complete success at first, he
might find it difficult to feed his men, or to make a good retreat if
that were necessary.
‘Were it not for these unforeseen but possible dangers, I should agree
with our colleague Lamachos. But, on the whole, therefore, my proposal
is that we first gain the goodwill of Messana, the nearest port, or,
failing that, the goodwill of some other town, whence we can descend
with both army and fleet on Syrakuse, after we have made our
observations of the strong and weak points of that important city.’
Lamachos at once came round to this opinion, as every one else must have
done who had any wisdom or any experience of practical warfare, or any
knowledge of the port they were about to attack. He was a fine leader,
was Lamachos, when a dash at the head of troops was wanted, but without
prudence or firmness of conviction. The superior wisdom of his more
gifted colleague, which was before long to mark him out as one of the
greatest generals of any age, soon convinced him. Nikias then grudgingly
gave way. His attitude was not one to inspire confidence in minds less
hopeful than those of his two colleagues.
Alkibiades started at once for Messana in the _Eros_. No troops were
allowed to enter the town. He went alone into the Assembly. But his fame
had gone before him. He addressed the citizens, pressing them to join
the Athenians and their allies, and pointing out the advantages they
would gain by the help of such a force as he had brought from Greece.
The people were divided. Some were for joining the Athenians, others
feared the fury of Syrakuse when the Greeks had gone away. The more wary
answered they could not open their gates to an armed force on either
side, but that the Athenians might, if they would, encamp in their
territory away from the town, and buy what provisions they wanted at a
reasonable rate. This was something gained. Alkibiades was not
discouraged. He thanked the people, and before he left he managed to
gain over a party amongst them, who engaged to open the gates to him
whenever he should give the signal.
He hastened back to Rhegion, and with a portion of the fleet sailed
south to Naxos, where he was cordially received, and obtained promise of
help. He went on to Katané. There he was refused admission, and thinking
it unwise to begin hostilities with the small force he had, or to make
certain enemies of those who might be won by management, he went on
towards Syrakuse.
There he met his colleague Lamachos cruising near the harbour, longing
to be inside it. The two generals with their conjoined force went back
to Katané, taking a Syrakusan vessel by the way. On reaching Katané,
they received permission to enter the town without troops. They ventured
to address an assembly of the citizens. While Alkibiades was
endeavouring to persuade them to join the Athenian alliance, a party of
Athenian soldiers who had landed secretly from the ships forced one of
the city gates that had been left unguarded, and suddenly appeared in
the assembly while Alkibiades was speaking. The Syrakusan party amongst
the citizens fled; the rest, without waiting for further arguments,
voted for the Athenian alliance.
Alkibiades then made a reconnaissance of Syrakuse alone by sea, and
landed with a body of two hundred heavy-armed men nearly two miles north
of the town. He came upon an outpost on the high ground guarded by a
small body of Syrakusan soldiers, whom he easily overcame, and captured
a store of arms and provisions.
He had been able to form a good idea of the strength of the greater and
the smaller port against an invading fleet; he now saw the weak point of
the defences on the land side. But, as he was making his observations,
he did not notice that a body of cavalry had left the town by the
north-western gate, and had come round the rising ground immediately
behind him, while a force of some three or four hundred light-armed
troops were threatening him upon the left flank.
He thus found himself cut off from his ships. To retreat before the
cavalry was impossible, while to stand there to receive a charge on one
side by the infantry, and in the rear by the cavalry, was to await
certain death or capture.
A strong wind which had rendered the landing difficult, and made the
anchorage of the ships precarious, was blowing from the south as these
horsemen rode down from the high ground to the spot where Alkibiades and
his men now stood at bay, prepared to receive the charge and to die like
men.
High tufts of long grass, which had been dried by the September heat,
grew on all sides of them. The wind bent the long yellow blades as it
swept over them. To set light to this inflammable growth was the
inspiration of a leader who was seldom at a loss in the greatest
extremities. The fire rose at once. The wind increased its fury. It
caught the stunted olive-trees and under-growth, as it surged onward
full in the face of the Syrakusan cavalry. The horses reared and
plunged, and turned and fled in disorder as the flames came on and the
smoke half smothered them.
Nor were the light-armed troops much better off. For Alkibiades ordered
his men to charge. They had the advantage of a slight declivity, and so
the heavy-armed Athenians emerged, as it were, from out the fire and
smoke, and marching through the light-armed Syrakusans, cut them to
pieces as they went, and reached their ships in safety. Alkibiades
returned straightway to Katané.
As he sailed away, like another Ulysses defying Polyphemos, he had some
cause to feel satisfied with what he had accomplished. He had just
escaped from what at one time looked like a very serious predicament,
and in spite of a timorous, procrastinating colleague on one side, and a
rash, unthinking enthusiast upon the other, he had done good work for
Athens and her allies. He had arranged to get a footing in Messana
whenever he thought it expedient to land troops there. Naxos was
entirely with him. He had established a base of operations against
Syrakuse at Katané, where the greater part of the fleet now lay.
This was something to have done in the short time he had been in
Sicilian waters. He had done much more than this: he had discovered a
point of attack on Syrakuse, and though it might require some sacrifice
of ships and men, he saw that, in its present state of defence, this
chief port and town of Sicily would be theirs without much difficulty,
if attacked at once.
Such were his hopes as he returned, well satisfied, to Katané. The
clouds which had been hanging over him since he left home lifted and
almost disappeared. His high spirits rose again as he thought of his
entry as a conqueror into Athens, bringing with him the spoils of a
mighty city, and offering to his countrymen the gratitude of a people
delivered from oppression, and the sovereignty of Syrakuse, and of the
whole of Sicily, all to be laid at his country’s feet.
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