The Persians retreated to their camp, where, thanks to the bravery
of their cavalry in covering their rout, they had time to man the
stockaded portion of it before the Greeks came up. The beaten Bœotians,
on the other hand, fled straight to Thebes, probably striking the
Platæa-Thebes road shortly after recrossing the Asopos.
◆H. ix. 66.◆
One division of the Persians, a body of forty thousand men, under the
command of Artabazos, neither took part in the final struggle nor took
refuge in the stockaded camp. With singular foresight, their commander
was strongly opposed to the attack on the apparently retreating Greeks,
apprehending that it could only end in disaster. He only brought up his
men in time to meet the stream of fugitives from the battle, and then
turned right about and departed without further ado for Phocis.
#LOSSES IN THE BATTLE.#
In the course of the pursuit the Lacedæmonians, as would be expected
from their position in the field, arrived first at the stockaded camp;
but, with that noteable incapacity in the attack on fortified places
which is one of the most striking and least comprehensible features in
Greek military history, they failed to make any impression on it,
until the Athenians, who possessed more skill in this respect, came up.
A successful assault was made, the Tegeans being the first to enter
the stockade. Then ensued a massacre, in which it is reported that
thirty thousand men perished. ◆H. ix. 82, _ad init._◆ Plunder, too,
of great value fell into the hands of the victors, for Xerxes, in his
precipitate flight to the Hellespont, had left behind him much of the
extraordinary paraphernalia which he, like other Oriental monarchs of
other ages, thought necessary to bring with him on campaign.
◆H. ix. 70.◆
It is doubtless the case that the numbers of those who perished on
the Persian side were very large, though much exaggerated in later
tradition. On the Greek side the losses, as given by Herodotus, were
ninety-one Lacedæmonians, seventeen Tegeans, and fifty-two Athenians.
It is evident that this statement refers only to those who fell in
the fighting of the last day of the battle; but, even so, it may
be suspected that there is a considerable understatement. It is,
indeed, the case that, throughout the history of the fifth and fourth
centuries, the losses of Greek armies in victorious combats against
Orientals are singularly small; but it is hardly credible that on the
present occasion, when the Persian infantry and cavalry fought with
all the confidence of success, that the large mass of their opponents,
the majority of whom were light-armed, lost but ninety-one men in a
somewhat protracted engagement; still less is it credible that the
Athenian loss was so small when matched against an enemy armed like
themselves.
Of the Greeks that took part in the fight, Herodotus considers that
the Lacedæmonians distinguished themselves most, and after them the
Athenians and Tegeans.
Any one who realizes the difficulties which must have faced the
historian of the fifth century when seeking to discover the truth with
respect to the incidents of a battle which had been fought years before
he began even to collect his materials, must admire the success which
Herodotus has attained in his description. At the same time, that
description is of such a nature, and is so manifest in its limitations,
that a careful reader can distinguish without difficulty the
kind of sources from which it is drawn. There is hardly any trace
whatever of any official record lying behind it; it does not even
seem as if the historian drew his information with regard to any one
of its incidents from any one who was acquainted with the design of
those in command. The account, as it stands, seems to be mainly built
upon a foundation of evidence furnished by some intelligent observer
or observers present at the fight in some subordinate position. This
fact would account for the entire absence of any mention of any plan,
strategic or tactical, on the part of the Greek generals. Two motives
continually brought forward for the movements of the Greek force are
the want of water and the damage wrought by the Persian cavalry; and
these are the very motives which would present themselves to the mind
of a Greek soldier to whom the plans governing the battle were unknown.
It is fortunate that sufficient details of a reliable character have
been preserved to make it possible to see the general nature of the
design entertained by those in command in what was certainly the
greatest and most interesting of the Hellenic battles of the fifth
century. But, while the major part of Herodotus’ narrative rests on
the basis of information thus supplied, there are undoubtedly parts
of it which are drawn from traditional sources. He seems to have
interwoven into the main story incidents drawn both from Athenian and
from Spartan, or possibly Pan-Hellenic traditions; for instance, the
tale of the shifting of the positions of the Athenians and Spartans
in the Greek line of battle, and possibly the tale of Amompharetos,
together with passages here and there which show a bias in favour of
some particular element in the Greek army. But, judged even by modern
standard, there is but little to find fault with in the account, in so
far as its fairness is concerned. The only section of it which shows
signs of personal feeling on the part of the narrator himself, is that
relating to the conduct of the Greek centre after the withdrawal from
the second position. #SURVEY OF THE BATTLE.# In that case it may be
suspected that what has appeared to him the reprehensible and selfish
policy of the Peloponnesian states in the previous period of the
war, has coloured his view of the conduct of their contingents on this
particular occasion. His failure to appreciate the strategy and larger
tactics is in accordance with what is found elsewhere in his history;
and though it renders his narrative difficult to unravel, it makes
the demonstrable accuracy of the tale which he does tell all the more
remarkable.
A battle so great and so important must necessarily excite the
imagination of any student of history. It is hardly an exaggeration to
say that much of the environment of our daily life at the present day
owes its existence to the issue of that struggle in the hollow beneath
the temple of Eleusinian Demeter. Had the great battle turned out
differently, as it so very nearly did, the whole history of the fifth
century might have been altered. Surely it was one of the strangest
battles ever fought; it was indeed more of the nature of a campaign
within an extremely circumscribed area. The operations were spread
over a period of certainly not less than three weeks, reckoning from
the arrival in Bœotia up to the time of the capture of Thebes; and it
is possible even to argue from Herodotus’ narrative that they covered
a period of four weeks. But the most remarkable point with regard to
them is not perhaps their protracted nature, but the extraordinary
variations of success and failure which attended the operations of
either side. It was eminently a battle in which the ultimate success
was due, not to the excellence of the dispositions made by the
victor, but to the mistakes made by the vanquished. Theoretically
those mistakes were hardly greater than those which the victor made:
practically they were fatal.
The Greeks arrived in Bœotia and took up their position with a general
intention of striking at the Persian and his base of operations along
the Dryoskephalæ-Thebes road. Finding this blocked by the Persian
position, they were probably somewhat at a loss as to what course to
pursue next. Opinions were, doubtless, divided as to the significance
of that factor of unknown but suspected value in the Persian camp, the
cavalry, for, owing to its absence at Marathon, the European Greeks
had had no opportunity of testing its effectiveness. Mardonius
was not slow in providing them with an experiment in his desire to win
what would have been a striking success by piercing the Greek centre,
and seizing the pass in its immediate rear, he made the mistake of
using his cavalry against unbroken heavy infantry in a position which
offered exceedingly restricted opportunities for such an attack, with
the inevitable result that his men were beaten back with considerable
loss. There can be little question that the Greek commanders misread
the results of that experiment, and mistakenly assumed that what had
occurred on the low ground in front of Erythræ gave satisfactory
assurance of the capacity of the Greek army to face the enemy’s cavalry
in the plain. It did not, apparently, occur to them that it was one
thing to face that cavalry in a position where the attack could only
be on their front, and, moreover, on but a small extent of that front,
and quite another thing to meet it on the open plain, where its extreme
mobility, compared with their own immobility, would render it able to
assail front, flank, and rear at the same time.
Their immediate object of attack was Thebes. It is little short of
absurd to suppose that a people such as the Greeks reversed without
cause the whole system on which they had hitherto conducted the war,
and entered Bœotia with a witless lack of design.
Their plan was to force the Persian to retire from Northern Greece,
and from Bœotia first of all, and so to get rid of the danger which
manifestly threatened them, the establishment of a new frontier of the
great Empire within their own borders. If the enemy’s tenure of Thebes
could be rendered impossible, he must retire northward; and against
Thebes therefore their operations were directly aimed. The fatal
weakness of their plan was their lack of cavalry; but it was the very
form of weakness whose significance, from their lack of experience in
that arm, they were least capable of gauging.
In spite of this, their design in moving to the second position might
have been effective, had they been able to execute it before the
Persians received information of what they were doing. #STRATEGY AND
TACTICS AT PLATÆA.# A flank attack suddenly delivered by the whole
Greek army could hardly have failed to lead to decisive results. With
such an end in view, they moved along the side of Kithæron, and then,
advancing into the plain, deployed the army in that depression which
was hidden from the Persian camp by the northern ridges,[229] so as
to be able to advance in battle array directly upon the Persian right
flank. But on reaching the summit of the Asopos ridge, they found
that their movement had been discovered by the enemy, and that he had
also moved in such a way as to make a flank attack and a surprise
alike impossible. The position was, for the time being, stalemate; and
remained so for at least a week, neither side venturing on a direct
frontal attack. But the situation began to develop rapidly so soon
as Mardonius launched his cavalry against the short Greek line of
communication with the passes. The position became desperate when he
began to use his horsemen in the effective way in which that excellent
Asiatic light cavalry could be used, to harass the Greek infantry by
a form of attack which they were wholly unable to meet in adequate
fashion.
The Greek force was obliged to retire from the Asopos ridge. Mardonius,
if he had only known it, had won the battle, in the sense that he had
rendered impossible all further offensive operations on the part of
the enemy in the plains of Bœotia. He was too eager to convert the
defeat into a rout, when, on seeing that the Greeks had evacuated
their position during the night, he launched the whole of his infantry
against them. The mistake was fatal, irremediable. The rout of his
infantry was such that no effort on the part of his cavalry could
restore the battle; all that it could do was to cover the retreat as
far as the stockaded ramp. Marengo is perhaps the only other great
battle in history which presents so startling a reversal of fortune.
Platæa was lost and won. Truly the Persian was the rock on which he
himself made shipwreck.
With the capture of the stockaded camp the battle ended. Two Greek
contingents arrived on the scene after the fighting was over, the
Mantineans and Eleians. The incident is chiefly remarkable as showing
how extraordinarily difficult it was to instil into the population
of the Peloponnese the necessity of prompt united action against the
common foe. Their delay does not seem to have been due to cowardice,
but to an absolute failure to appreciate the necessities of warfare
waged beyond their own borders, with an enemy who was prepared to
keep the field for an indefinite length of time. Their disappointment
in not sharing in the victory was no doubt genuine enough,—the
Mantineans are even reported to have offered to pursue the retreating
army of Artabazos as far as Thessaly,—but it is significant for the
trustworthiness of Greek official records that the Eleians, probably
owing to their close and friendly relations to Sparta at this time, got
their name engraved on the official lists both at Olympia and at Delphi
of those who had taken part in the battle.
◆H. ix. 77.◆
Many tales told by Herodotus of individual exploits display all
the traces of the embellishment of later tradition. One of them,
however, is notable. It may be true, or it may be an invention, for an
Æginetan plays the part of villain in the plot; but it shows in any
case the incorruptible character of a not unimportant side of Greek
civilization. An Æginetan of rank, named Lampon, is represented as
having advised Pausanias to requite on the dead body of Mardonius the
outrages which the barbarians had inflicted on the corpse of Leonidas
after his death at Thermopylæ. Pausanias’ striking answer lays down
the law that, even under circumstances of the greatest provocation,
Hellenic civilization should never imitate the barbarism of the
foreigner. It was, perhaps, owing to the very vagueness of their ideas
as to the afterworld, and to the prevalence of the old Homeric view
that in any case the future life could be at best but a shadow of
the present, that they regarded the mortality of the body with most
touching sympathy. To a people who lived, enjoyed, and appreciated
every moment of their vivid life amid the light and colour of the
East, the dead body, whether of Greek or Barbarian, was the material
presentment of the loss of all they valued most.
#AFTER THE BATTLE.#
The spoil which the Greeks collected from the Persian camp seemed to
them of enormous value; and Pausanias took special precautions
for its collection, employing the helots alone for this purpose. If
Herodotus is to be believed, these precautions were not entirely
successful; for the Æginetans persuaded the helots to sell them many
of the valuables for a mere nothing, and by that means acquired
considerable wealth. The tale, however, must be read in the light of
after-history, when the long-standing enmity between Athens and Ægina
reached its culminating point.
A tithe of the plunder was dedicated to Delphi, offerings being also
made at Olympia and the Isthmus. It belongs to the romance of history
that, amid the wholesale and irreparable destruction of the monuments
of the great ages of Greece, the most remarkable of the memorials
of the battle survives at the present day. Near the great altar at
Delphi was set up a golden tripod upon a lofty stand of three entwined
snakes, on which was engraved the names of the Greek states which had
sent contingents to Platæa. This most interesting and most important
monument of antiquity still in part remains. The snake pillar was
removed by Constantine to Constantinople. Amid all the vicissitudes
in the subsequent history of the great city it has survived. It still
stands in a mutilated form, the heads of the snakes having been broken
off, exposed, alas! to the weather in front of the great Mosque of
Sultan Achmet.
The burial of those who had died in the battle was next carried
out. The body of Mardonius had vanished—how, no one could say; but
Herodotus thinks that some Greeks had been paid to give it sepulture,
and he knows that many subsequently claimed and received money from
the son of Mardonius for having so done. The Greek dead were placed in
graves, according to their nationality, ◆Paus. ix. 2, 5.◆ and centuries
later Pausanias saw those graves by the side of the Platæa-Megara road,
just before it entered the town of Platæa. There are numerous rock-hewn
tombs remaining at the present day in the same locality; and it would
seem as if a cemetery had in later times been established on the ground
in which the heroes of the battle were buried. Among the Spartan dead
was Amompharetos, whose obstinacy had been so largely instrumental
in bringing about the victory. Some of the Greeks, says Herodotus, who
had no dead to bury, owing to the inglorious part they had played,
raised tombs there “for the sake of posterity.” The unfortunate
Æginetans, of whom the historian in this part of his history has no
good word to say, are reported to have caused such a tomb to be raised
at Platæa ten years after the event.[230]
The Greeks spent ten days over the distribution of the spoil and
the disposal of the dead. Before leaving Bœotia they determined to
settle the long account standing against the Thebans and the Bœotians
generally. They can hardly be blamed for the bitter feeling which the
policy of that people had aroused in their breasts. The treason of
Bœotia to the national cause had indeed been beyond forgiveness. From
the very outset its attitude had been doubtful and suspicious, even
before the time when the desertion of Thermopylæ afforded it some
excuse for an unpatriotic policy. It is very difficult to form any
certain idea of the motives which prompted the Bœotians to medize at
all in the first instance, and to medize so energetically in the end.
It is probable, however, that from the very beginning the oligarchs
in the various cities, adopting the policy of the feudal lords in
Thessaly, thought that they could best secure the permanence of their
own selfish interests by submission to Persia; and that subsequently
the determination of the other Greeks to make no attempt to defend the
land north of Geraneia caused the mass of the population to side with a
policy which afforded them some possibility of saving their rich lands
from wholesale ruin. The decision once taken, they displayed at least
the merit of thoroughness. #PUNISHMENT OF THE THEBANS.# Their medism
was by no means passive. They had staked all on the Persian success,
and could expect far less mercy from the Greek patriots than, as
a fact, they actually received. That being so, they remained faithful
to their new allies after Salamis, and showed no disposition to revolt
during that winter of 480–479, while Mardonius was far away north in
Thessaly. It may be that they were acquainted with that alternative
design of conquest whose conjectured existence can alone account for
the strategy of Greek and Persian alike previous to the battle of
Platæa. They had so thoroughly identified themselves with the invaders,
that the success of the Greek in the war might be expected to prove
far more dangerous to them than that of the Persian. Moreover, public
opinion in Bœotia was that of the few rather than that of the many;
and the few evidently conceived that their interests in the present
and future alike were intimately bound up in the success of Persia,
whose Government had shown in its treatment of the Ionians that it was
sufficiently civilized to appreciate the advisability of ruling Greeks
by means of Greeks.
The patriots seem to have recognized that the responsibility for
the treason of Bœotia rested not so much with the whole population
as with its leaders; ◆H. ix. 86.◆ for they aimed not at a wide
measure of revenge, but at the punishment of those prominent men
who had led the people astray. They marched on Thebes, and demanded
the surrender of the medizing party, and especially of the prime
instigators, Timegenides and Attaginos. The town was blockaded, but
still the Thebans refused to give up the men; so the wall was attacked
and the lands in the neighbourhood laid waste. On the ninth day of
the siege Timegenides proposed that, in order to save the country,
the assailants, if they wanted money, should be bought off; or, if
they persisted in their demand for the surrender of himself and his
fellow culprits, they should give themselves up, and take their
chance of a trial. His hope was, evidently, that bribery would do its
work. The Thebans gave up all save Attaginos, who escaped. It is a
strange commentary on Greek character that Pausanias did not entrust
the prisoners to the judgment of a pan-Hellenic court, fearing, as
Herodotus plainly hints, that bribery might secure their acquittal,
but took them away to Corinth, where he had them executed. It is,
perhaps, a still stranger commentary on Greek character that a Greek
historian should have dared to insert such a suspicion into an account
of what was in many respects the crowning incident in the national
history.
Of the fate of the defeated Persians Herodotus says nothing. They
probably streamed back to Asia in a miserable and ever diminishing
train. ◆H. ix. 89.◆ Even Artabazos, who made good his escape, thought
it necessary to conceal from the Thessalians what had happened in
Bœotia, and himself suffered severe losses in a retreat which must
have been a counterpart on a smaller scale of that of Xerxes the
year before. He did not venture along the coast route, but took an
inland course, and finally reached Asia across the Bosphorus by way of
Byzantion.
_Appendix Note 1.—The Account of the Battle given by Diodorus._
It is, perhaps, impossible to say from what authorities other than
Herodotus Diodorus drew his account of the battle. We have had reason
to see that, despite his carelessness as to chronological details, he
sometimes displays the merit of having followed valuable authorities
whose original work is not now extant. This is noticeably the case in
his account of Salamis. His narrative of Platæa seems to rest mainly
on the history of Herodotus, together with elaborations either of his
own or taken from his main authority, Ephoros. One great omission,
and his looseness in the treatment of his facts, make it impossible
to accept his evidence, where it differs from Herodotus’ version, as
being of historical importance. I do not therefore propose to do more
than tabulate the main points of resemblance and difference in the two
accounts.
(1) He, like Herodotus, says that the first position of the Greeks was
near Erythræ (D. xi. 29).
(2) He represents the Persian force as having been at Thebes when the
news of the Greek advance into Bœotia reached Mardonius. Herodotus does
not say this; but he does, of course, give an account of a banquet at
Thebes somewhere about this time, at which the principal Persians were
present (D. xi. 30).
#ACCOUNTS OF DIODORUS AND PLUTARCH.#
(3) His account of the first cavalry attack of the Persians
differs from that of Herodotus in certain details. He seems to
represent the Athenians as having been the first to be attacked; but
he also represents them as subsequently extricating the Megareans from
their dangerous position.
(4) He mentions, more emphatically perhaps than Herodotus, the feeling
of elation and confidence among the Greeks at the defeat of the Persian
horse and the death of Masistios, whom, however, he does not name.
(5) He mentions the movement to the second position, his description
of which corresponds very well with what I think must, from the
description of Herodotus, have been the locality of the second phase of
that position.
(6) The rest of his narrative appears to be a version of Herodotus’
account of the last great fight which took place in the course of the
movement to the “Island.” Consequently there is a large gap in his
narrative (D. xi. 30, 31).
Generally speaking, he represents the Greeks as having taken the
offensive in a more emphatic way than we should suppose did we take the
account of Herodotus without reading between the lines of it.
_Appendix Note 2.—The Account of the Battle given in Plutarch’s
“Aristides.”_
The account of the operations of the army as a whole, in so far as
it is given, follows closely the account of the same events given by
Herodotus, and is, apparently, largely taken from his narrative. It
is noteworthy, however, that all that Herodotus says relating to the
“Island” is omitted, and a doubt is expressed as to the accuracy of his
statement with regard to the part which the Greek centre played on the
decisive day of the struggle. The reasons given for this doubt would,
however, seem to indicate that Plutarch had not fully estimated the
significance of this part of Herodotus’ story. That Plutarch did not
rely wholly on Herodotus in writing the account of the operations of
the army is shown by his reference to Kleidemos for an unimportant and
not very probable detail (Plut. Arist. 19). Still, his narrative, in so
far as it relates to the events mentioned by Herodotus, coincides very
closely with the account of the latter.
_Appendix Note 3.—Note on Platæa._
In the _American Journal of Archæology_, 1890, p. 460, Mr. Irving Hunt,
who spent some time at Platæa as one of the members of the American
School of Archæology engaged in superintending excavations on the site
of the ruins of the town, has written an account of the battlefield.
A slight map of the field is added at the end of the volume; it is,
however, on a very small scale, and does not mark any natural features
at all save the streams.
Mr. Hunt seems to accept most of the identifications previously made by
Leake; and as these have been already discussed, there is no reason to
refer to them again here. The point, however, in his paper with which I
wish to deal at length is his determination of the site of the temple
of Eleusinian Demeter.
He places it “on high ground south-east of Platæa, where are the
foundations of a large Byzantine church, six minutes’ walk east of
the spring of Vergutiani.” Over the ground to which Mr. Hunt refers,
six minutes’ walk could be at most five or six hundred yards. He says
that it is probable that the trophy erected by the Greeks was near the
temple of Eleusinian Demeter. This was, no doubt, the case. He then
quotes Pausanias (ix. 2, 6), who states that this trophy was fifteen
stades from Platæa, ἀπωτέρω τῆς πόλεως, the comparative of distance
being used, as elsewhere in Pausanias, in a positive sense. Mr. Hunt
says that the ναός of which he speaks is at that distance from the
ruins of the city.
The Vergutiani spring is about 2100 yards from Platæa, therefore this
ναός is about thirteen stades from the city, a discrepancy of distance
which does not render the position impossible.
But when we come to compare the situation of this ναός with the details
in Herodotus, which enable us to fix approximately the position of the
temple of Eleusinian Demeter, some very serious difficulties arise.
(1) Pausanias had only moved ten stades from the second position when
he waited for Amompharetos in the neighbourhood of the temple. This
site is 4000 yards, _i.e._ twenty stades, from what is clearly defined
as the second position.
(2) This ναός is on the rocky ὑπωρέη. #TOPOGRAPHICAL CRITICISM.# Also,
from Herodotus’ account, the temple of Eleusinian Demeter must have
been between the Spartans and the Persian camp. If this, then,
coincides with its site, the Spartans, who must have been south of it,
were on ground on which cavalry could not act, and Herodotus’ account
of the cavalry attack becomes incomprehensible.
(3) A battle in this position must have been within sight of the Greek
centre at the Heræon. Herodotus’ views as to the conduct of the Greek
centre are not such as to render it probable that he would have implied
that the battle took place out of sight of them when in that position,
unless such had actually been the case.
(4) The topographical detail of Plutarch, to which Mr. Hunt refers, is
manifestly unreliable, as has been shown in a previous note.
CHAPTER XII.
MYKALE AND SESTOS.
The complete change from their former strategy on land which the Greeks
had shown by their advance into Bœotia had its counterpart in the
contemporaneous exploits of the fleet Herodotus has already described,
not without rhetorical exaggeration, that dread of the unknown which
kept the Greeks in the Western Ægean, and prevented them from carrying
the war to the Asian coast. But at some period, presumably in the late
summer of this year 479, all this fear was suddenly dispelled, and in
consequence of certain information given by some Samian refugees, and
of an appeal made by them, it was determined to carry the war into
the enemy’s waters. It is probable that this was by no means the sole
definite information which reached the ears of the European Greeks with
respect to the state of affairs on the Ionian coast. Throughout the
whole summer, in fact ever since Salamis, more or less authenticated
reports must have come to them of the possibilities of the situation
in those parts, which finally confirmed them in the opinion that the
time had come for offensive action. But the message from Samos was
very definite, and brought the news for which the Greeks had long been
waiting, that the Ionians, if supported by the presence of a fleet upon
this Asiatic coast, would revolt. The appeal, moreover, was couched
in a form which stirred the very depths of that peculiar national
spirit which abhorred the idea of the Hellene being any man’s subject.
Hegesistratos the Samian called upon them, “by the gods they all
worshipped, to save Greeks from slavery and drive away the barbarian.”
#A PHASE OF THE HELLENIC SPIRIT.# This Hellenic spirit was, and is,
a very noble thing, noblest perhaps in a peculiar limitation to
which it would be hard to find a parallel in history. It ever prompted
those inspired with it to trade-venture all the civilized world
over,—to colonization which necessitated indeed an encroachment on the
territory of others, but which never in any single instance aimed at
the acquisition of dominion over the lands or persons of others beyond
what was absolutely requisite for the new plantation. More than this
it did not demand. It knew not land-hunger. All that it postulated was
that the Greek should be free to settle where he liked, in the form
he liked, and with that political freedom which meant so much to him.
And so it is even now. A race, largely alien in blood, has imbibed the
very spirit of the land, and amid the struggles of the last century has
demanded with persistence the rights of freedom for all who bear the
name of Greek, but has never in any single instance sought to extend
its dominions over peoples who cannot claim the Hellenic name. It was
perhaps the very exclusiveness of the spirit which gave it that pent-up
strength which enabled it, under the ægis of the bastard Hellenism of
Macedonia, to establish in a few short years an influence destined to
last for centuries over a wide area of civilization peculiarly alien to
its own.
It is a very noticeable fact in the history of the fifth century that,
neither at this particular time nor later, is there any national idea
of action in Asia aiming at the expulsion of the Persian from regions
wherein the Greek had not settled. Even throughout the history of
Greek action in the whole region of the Mediterranean in the fifth
century only two apparent violations of the spirit are to be met
with,—the Athenian expedition to Egypt, and the aspirations with regard
to Carthage which Aristophanes attributes to the Athenian populace
at the time of the Peloponnesian War. And even these exceptions are
rather apparent than real, aiming, as they evidently did, not at the
acquisition of dominion over others, but at an assault on the jealous
“protectionist” policy of the Phœnician trader.
The summons from Samos was therefore one which was calculated to stir
the inmost nature of those to whom it was addressed; and sentiment,
combined with opportunity, induced the European Greeks to venture
that from which they had shrunk but a few months before.
Apart from this, it is quite plain that those who directed the great
operations had determined late in the summer of 479 to adopt the
offensive by sea as well as land, should a favourable opportunity for
so doing present itself; and it is a fact of extreme significance for
the study of military history in the historians of the fifth century
that no mention of such a design is found in Herodotus. It is quite
evident that he was seldom, if ever, able to acquire information as to
the plans upon which the operations of the war were carried on.
One of the assertions of the Samian Hegesistratos is striking from its
lack of correspondence with the general evidence on the subject of the
comparative merits of the Greek and Persian ships of this time. ◆H.
ix. 90, _ad fin._◆ He says that the Persians “are bad sailors, and not
capable of meeting the Greeks in battle.” In point of sailing qualities
the reference can only be to the non-Phœnician portion of the Persian
fleet. The Phœnician vessels of this time were handier and, probably,
better handled than the Greek; and some of the improvements made a
few years later by Kimon in Greek naval architecture were undoubtedly
suggested to his experience by certain points of superiority in the
vessels produced by the skilled shipwrights of Tyre and Sidon.
Hegesistratos was, of course, the advocate of intervention. ◆H.
ix. 91.◆ Leutychides, the Spartan commander of the Greek fleet, is
represented as having been persuaded by his advocacy, and to have
accepted his offer to accompany the fleet with the other members of the
deputation, in the guise of hostages for the truth of their assertion.
But much must have taken place before this time to render such a
decision on the part of a Spartan commander possible.
The fleet made straight from Delos to Samos, along the line of islands.
#MYKALE.# They arrived first at a place in Samos called Kalamoi, whose
position is not now known, but which, judging from the story of what
took place immediately afterwards, was probably on the east coast of
the island. ◆H. viii. 130.◆ The Persian fleet had been stationed
at the town of Samos ever since the beginning of the year, but now,
on the approach of the Greeks, it passed across the channel to the
mainland. For some inscrutable reason,—possibly because they could not
keep it in the Ægean against its will,—the Phœnician contingent had
been allowed to sail away. ◆H. viii. 130.◆ The number of ships in the
fleet originally stationed here had been three hundred, but though
still formidable in quantity, it must have been inferior in quality.
The Phœnicians had gone; and the Ionians would have been dangerous
allies were a Greek fleet on the east side of the Ægean. The Persians
therefore wished to decline an engagement, and retired to Mykale, where
a large land army, under the command of Tigranes, placed there by
Xerxes’ orders, was watching the Ionian towns. They intended to place
the fleet under the protection of this force, drawing up the ships on
shore, and running a stockade around them. This plan was carried out.
◆Strabo, 636.◆ Landing at the mouth of a brook named Guison, ◆Pliny, v.
113, etc.◆ which was on the south side of Mykale, the Persians took
up their station at a place whose name Skolopœis suggests that it was
derived from the stockade constructed on this occasion. Herodotus
further adds that there was a temple of Eleusinian Demeter in the
immediate neighbourhood.
The stockade constructed was apparently of a formidable character,
made of wood and stone. ◆H. ix. 97.◆ Herodotus says of it that it was
prepared alike in view of a siege and of a victory, referring doubtless
to some feature in its design which cannot now be conjectured.
The retirement of the Persian fleet to this strong position, and its
practical conversion into a land force, placed the Greeks at Samos in a
situation of considerable difficulty. They were, as might be expected,
prepared to contest the supremacy of the enemy by sea rather than by
land; and Leutychides may well have hesitated to employ the force he
had with him for an attack in which the fleet, as fleet, could play
little if any part. It was debated whether, under the circumstances,
they should sail to the Hellespont or return to Greece. It was finally
decided to take the bold course and to assail the enemy at Mykale,
though everything about the fleet was made ready in case, after all,
the Persians should risk a sea-fight.
On their reaching Mykale the enemy showed no sign whatever of a
disposition to put out and meet them. Seeing this, Leutychides in his
own ship sailed close in shore, and sought by means of a herald to
enter into communication with the Ionians in the enemy’s army, and to
persuade them to desert the Persians during the coming engagement, a
policy in which, as Herodotus remarks, he imitated that of Themistocles
at Artemisium. No immediate effect resulting from this appeal, ◆H. ix.
99.◆ Leutychides disembarked his troops without any opposition on the
part of the enemy, presumably, therefore, at some distance from their
camp. But whether owing to Leutychides’ action, or to the distrust
of the Ionians which the circumstances of the time must inevitably
have aroused among the Persians, measures were taken to render them
as innocuous as the situation permitted. The Samian contingent was
forthwith disarmed. The people of that island had rendered themselves
peculiarly open to suspicion by ransoming and forwarding home five
hundred Athenian prisoners which the Persians had picked up in Attica
at the time of Xerxes’ invasion. The Milesians also were despatched
from the camp on the pretext of acting as guards of the passes over the
peaks of Mykale, but really, so Herodotus says, in order to obviate the
danger of keeping them within the actual fortifications.
The Greeks now advanced to the attack. In reference to this advance
Herodotus mentions a curious tale. He says that a report ran through
the army at this moment to the effect that the Greeks were victorious
over Mardonius in Bœotia. Naturally enough, he ascribes this strange
rumour to supernatural influence, since, according to his narrative,
the two battles occurred on the same day. #A STRANGE REPORT.# It is
not perhaps impious to suggest that if, as he positively asserts, the
battle at Mykale was fought on the same day as the final engagement
at Platæa, the report which reached the Greek army in Asia related
to the success attained in the first position at Platæa some weeks
before this time, but was referred by later tradition to the final
defeat of Mardonius’ army. However the report arose, it greatly cheered
the Greeks. Herodotus, in speaking of their exultation, mentions
incidentally two noticeable facts with regard to their feelings at
this time. He says that their fear had been not for themselves, but
for the success of the Greeks against Mardonius. If it be remembered
that the fleet when at Delos must have heard of Mardonius’ retirement
from Attica, and had also, it would seem, heard of the march of the
home army into Bœotia, their fear strongly supports the conjecture that
they knew that the object of that army was not to merely guard the
passes of Kithæron, but to take the offensive against the Persian. It
is hardly conceivable that, after Mardonius’ retirement, they should
have felt apprehensions of this nature about the army, had its object
been merely the defence of the Kithæron range, since the enemy had
plainly shown by his retreat from Athens that his main desire was to
be north of that range, and that he would have but little motive for
throwing his men against mere defenders of passes which he had shown
that he did not want to use. Furthermore, the possible intentions of
Mardonius in making Thebes his headquarters may have alarmed the Greeks
by indicating the nature of a policy, not indeed so terrible as that
wherewith the expedition was originally undertaken, but constituting,
all the same, a most serious danger to all the states of Southern
Greece.
Relieved of this fear, they went into battle with a good heart,
feeling, says Herodotus, “that the Hellespont and the Islands would be
the prize of victory.” Not a word of the Ionian towns on the mainland.
The Persian position was indeed too strong in respect to these.
◆H. ix. 102.◆
The march was evidently parallel with the shore, along it and the level
ground in its neighbourhood, and also along the hillside, cut up, as
the hillsides of that land always are, by numerous water-courses. The
result was that the Athenians and those with them, advancing along
the unimpeded level, came into contact with the enemy before the
Lacedæmonians, who were advancing along the slope of the mountain.
If Herodotus’ description is strictly worded, ◆H. ix. 102.◆ the
Lacedæmonians were engaged in some kind of a turning movement.
The Athenians were therefore probably guilty of a tactical error in
beginning the attack before the movement was complete.
The Persians adopted the same form of defence as in the last fight
at Platæa, using their shields as a breastwork; and for some time
the battle was fought without advantage to either side, until the
Athenians and those with them, eager to win the victory before the
Lacedæmonians came up, broke through this barrier and fell in a mass
upon the Persians, who, after an obstinate resistance, retreated within
their fortifications. The Athenians, Corinthians, Sikyonians, and
Trœzenians, however, followed close on their heels, and seem to have
reached the breastwork with the fugitives, so that it was captured
without difficulty. Except the native Persian contingent, the enemy now
took to flight the former, however, resisted in scattered groups with
all the bravery of a great reputation,—the Old Guard of this Asiatic
Waterloo. In this combat two out of the four Persian generals fell. The
Lacedæmonians came up while it was in progress, and their arrival put
the coping stone on the enemy’s discomfiture. But the assailants, and
especially the Sikyonians, paid dearly for their victory, so Herodotus
says; and Greek historians are not in the habit of exaggerating Greek
losses in battles with barbarians. Meanwhile the disarmed Samians did
what they could to help the Greeks, and, following their lead, the
other Ionians attacked the Persians in the camp. The Milesians, who
had been sent to the peaks of Mykale, now played the part which, under
the circumstances, they might be expected to play. So far from acting
as guides to safety, they led the routed fugitives into the very hands
of the Greeks, and themselves took part with zeal in the slaughter
which ensued. At last Miletus had the opportunity of avenging its
destruction at the end of the Ionian revolt, and it is certain that the
bitterness of the last fourteen years found ample expression and ample
satisfaction on this day of revenge.
◆H. ix. 104, _ad fin._◆
“Thus,” says Herodotus, “Ionia revolted a second time from the
Persians.”
#THE FATE OF IONIA.#
He makes no comment upon the fact. It would have been difficult for him
to do so. He had regarded the first revolt as a conspicuous blunder,
probably because he looked upon it as premature. Even now he sings no
pæan of emancipation. Maybe the Halikarnassian believed that, in spite
of the brilliant success of the year, the permanent freedom of the
Ionian towns could never be secured so long as Persia retained its hold
on West Asia. He wrote with well-nigh a century of experience behind
him; he died a century before there arose a power upon the Ægean whose
unity of strength made it fit to cope with the dead weight of the
Persian power in Asia.
The Athenians were credited by popular tradition with having played
the greatest part in the battle; but it may be suspected that had
Leutychides’ version of the fighting survived, it might have contained
some criticism of the error of a premature attack, to which the escape
of a large part of the Persian army was probably due.
After destroying the enemy’s camp and fleet the Greeks withdrew to
Samos with such booty as they had captured.
◆H. ix. 106.◆
The action of the Ionians at Mykale had raised the whole question of
the future of the Asiatic Greeks. There was a large section in the
fleet who saw,—what the sequel proved to be correct,—that the European
Greeks were not in a position to maintain the freedom of continental
Ionia against the Persians for an indefinite space of time. That would
have meant the maintenance of a large garrison within the various
towns, such as the highly composite Greek alliance could not regard as
within the realm of practical politics. It was consequently proposed
to tranship the Ionians _en masse_ to the European shore, and to leave
Ionia to the Persian. The strategic position of the Ionian cities was
indeed fatally weak.
But, after all, it would hardly be the strategical question that
presented itself to the Greeks gathered at Samos. What they did know
was that these Ionian cities had failed to resist conquest by Lydia
and Persia, and had failed in one tremendous effort to throw off the
Persian yoke; and that one of the conspicuous causes of failure had
been the difficulty of sustained united action. Of the commercial
advantages and their causes, they were probably as well aware as
the best instructed modern student with the best maps at his disposal.
It was, no doubt, this balance of advantage and disadvantage which led
to the division of opinion in the council as to the best course to be
pursued. ◆H. ix. 106.◆ The Peloponnesians were in favour of planting the
Ionians on the lands of the medized Greeks at home. To this proposal
the Athenians offered an uncompromising resistance, and claimed that
they alone had the right to decide the matter, since the Ionians were
colonists of their own. The claim was a shadowy one; but the resistance
was successful. It is noticeable, however, that the Asiatic Greeks who
were in the first instance received into the alliance were Samians,
Chians, Lesbians, and the other islanders, but none of the inhabitants
of the cities of the mainland. Thus were sown the seeds of that famous
Delian League which was destined in the near future to play so great a
part in the history of the fifth century.
Throughout Greek history the Hellespontine region is the link between
Europe and Asia. To it the Oriental seeking to win empire in Europe
ever turned, while the European, whether on the defensive or the
offensive against the power of the East, was at all times anxious to
secure its possession. ◆H. ix. 114.◆ And thither now the fleet from
Samos sailed, under the impression, says Herodotus, that it would find
the bridge in existence. If such an impression did actually exist with
the Greeks at this time, the fact bears strong evidence to the silence
and desertion which in these years brooded over that highway of the
nations—the Ægean. The fleet was delayed on the voyage by adverse
winds, and was obliged to anchor for a time at Lektos. Thence it sailed
to Abydos, where the Greeks discovered for the first time that the
bridge was no longer in existence.
Hitherto Leutychides and the Spartans with him had shown in this
expedition an enterprise peculiarly foreign to them; but now once more
a fatal national characteristic began to reassert itself. #THE FLEET
SAILS TO THE HELLESPONT.# Whether because of that homesick conservatism
of the race which made it averse to ventures far beyond its borders,
and anxious when engaged in them to get quit of the matter in hand
at the earliest possible opportunity, or from a lack of intelligence
which failed to grasp the proper issue of a situation, Sparta was ever
wont to leave her tasks unfinished, especially if they demanded absence
far from home. And so it was now. On the plea that the only object of
the expedition to the Hellespont had been to ensure the destruction of
the bridge, they renounced all idea of further operations for the time
being, and set sail for home. It may be doubted whether they genuinely
believed that the disappearance of the bridge had removed all necessity
for further action in this region. The Athenians, at any rate, under
their leader Xanthippos, saw that the peril from Persia must ever be
recurrent, if that power continued to hold the Thracian Chersonese,
that tongue of land which in both ancient and modern times, though for
different reasons, has ever been of the greatest strategical importance
to Mediterranean powers. They determined therefore to clear the enemy
out of this, their _tête-du-pont_ in Europe.
The chief strategic position in the peninsula at that time was Sestos.
It lay on the European side of the great ferry of the Hellespont at
Abydos, and so commanded the main route from Asia to Europe.
As a place of great military importance, it was the strongest fortress
in those parts; and on the news of the arrival of the Greeks at the
Hellespont, the Persian population from all the neighbouring towns
collected thither under the command of Artauktes, the governor of
the region. He was a man who had got an evil reputation among the
Greeks owing to sacrilegious behaviour of the grossest character,
peculiarly calculated to arouse their most fierce resentment. The
arrival of the Greeks in the Hellespont had been so unexpected that
he was taken unawares, having made no preparations for a siege. But
the inexperience and incapacity of the Athenian assailants in the
attack on walled towns, despite the reputation they enjoyed among
their fellow-countrymen, who were themselves hopelessly impotent in
this department of the art of war, caused the siege to drag out a
weary length, until the wane of autumn brought with it that severity
of wintry weather from which all the lands within reach of the
inhospitable Euxine suffer at that time of year.
The Athenian soldiers and sailors began to weary of the apparently
endless blockade, and demanded of their leaders that they should be
taken home once more. This request Xanthippos and his captains refused,
saying that they must bide where they were until either the town were
taken or the Athenian Government sent for them. So they continued
to bear their hardships as best they could. Meanwhile the besieged,
reduced to the last extremity of want, ate even the leathern straps
of their beds. At last, in desperation, the Persian portion of the
inmates of the town escaped by night through the besiegers’ lines at
a point where there were but few men on guard; but here their success
ended. The natives of the Chersonese who were in the town informed the
Athenians by signal of their flight, and the latter started in hot
pursuit. One body of the fugitives made its escape to Thrace, to meet
with a miserable fate at the hands of the wild tribes of that region;
but the main body, under Artauktes, was overtaken by the Athenians near
Ægospotami, and after an obstinate defence, such as survived, including
Artauktes, were brought back as prisoners to Sestos. A tale which
Herodotus tells shows that the Persian commander had some apprehension
with regard to the retribution which his sacrilegious conduct might
bring upon him; for he made an offer to Xanthippos to pay one hundred
talents’ compensation for the outrage, and two hundred talents’ ransom
for himself and his son. To this offer Xanthippos turned a deaf ear.
The punishment inflicted on the Persian was a blot on Greek
civilization. He was nailed to a board, and his son was stoned to death
before his eyes. The Greek nature was capable in moments of revenge
of inflicting the death penalty in wholesale fashion on enemies who
had excited its bitter resentment; but the torture of a captured foe
was wholly alien to the spirit of the people. #END OF THE CAMPAIGN.#
Doubtless the Persians, with the ineradicable cruelty of the Oriental,
had given many precedents for such a form of revenge; but whether that
be so or not, this particular act was inexcusable in a people who
claimed for themselves a standard of civilization infinitely higher
than that of the world around them.
With the capture of Sestos the campaign of this famous year ended, and
with it the great war for the liberation of European Greece. Many years
were indeed fated to pass before the present struggle ceased. But from
this time forward the war entered upon a new phase, in which the Greek
was the assailant. Hitherto he had been acting purely on the defensive;
even the expedition across the Ægean had been but an act of the great
drama which was being played in Greece. The West had triumphed over
the East in one great effort, wherein the success had been rapid
and striking. But henceforward the tide of success was destined to
flow more slowly,—so slowly, indeed, that ere the end came, victor
and vanquished alike had sunk into decay, and alike had fallen into
subjection to that newer, broader, and more vigorous but less genuine
Hellenism which Macedonia evolved from her heritage in the older type.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE WAR AS A WHOLE.
It is often an invidious task to examine the causes which lie behind
any great series of events in military history, because the most
efficient of them are in the majority of cases due to human error
rather than to human power. The historian of peaceful development is
not exempt from the necessity of compiling such records of frailty,
but by the very nature of things such tasks fall more frequently to
one who narrates the story of periods at which the sanity of the
sanest is troubled by the nervous tension involved in participation
in events whose issues and their results lie in the immediate, not in
the distant future. The errors of war may not be greater, but they
are less remediable than those of peace. There may be time to arrest
the latter’s slow decay; but the swift and often fatal stab of a lost
battle is the work of a moment. Men have in all ages been conscious
of the gravity of this truth; and the consciousness of it, apart
altogether from the inevitable physical fear, has rendered them less
capable at such times of the calculations of reason, or even, in some
instances, of common sense.
The great Persian War was of a special type. In the majority of cases
in which races and empires have come into collision, each side has had
some practical acquaintance with the resources, devices, and fighting
qualities of the other; and in many cases such experience has been
intimate and prolonged. #UNDETERMINED FACTORS.# But when the Persian
and the Greek of Europe came into collision in 480, such experience
can hardly be said to have existed on either side; or, in so far as
it did exist, it had been misleading. In only two instances had
the European Greek come into contact with the Persian on the field of
battle, and in both of them the same Greek state, the Athenian, had
alone been represented in the conflict. But, furthermore, the instances
had, from a military point of view, been indecisive, if not actually
fallacious. At Ephesus, in the first year of the Ionian revolt, a small
contingent of Athenians had been present on the defeated side, when the
Persians fell on the expedition which had burnt Sardes. Of the battle
practically nothing is recorded save the result; but this much may be
assumed with certainty,—that a fight in which a small body of European
Greeks had been defeated in partnership with hastily raised levies of
Ionians could not possibly afford any experience worth calling such
to either of the sides who were destined to take part in the war of
twenty years later. The Ionians of Asia, long under Persian rule, must
have been very deficient in military training when compared with the
Greek of Europe. Darius had, indeed, made use of them in the Scythian
expedition, but in that instance had employed them to guard the
lines of communication. It is manifestly improbable that the Persian
Government would encourage any advanced system of military exercises
in a people whose position at the very borders of the empire would
have rendered them, if accustomed to the use of arms, very dangerous
subjects.
Marathon was the other instance. It is a battle of problems, a problem
among battles, whose data are woefully imperfect. The only thing
about it which seems clear is that, for some reason which can only be
conjectured, it formed but an imperfect test of the fighting capacity
and methods of Greek and Persian respectively.
Thus, for all practical purposes, when the two races came into
conflict in 480 they were, militarily speaking, unknown quantities to
one another, and each had to learn how best to meet the strategy and
tactics of the enemy. The consequence was inevitable. Both sides made
grave mistakes of commission and omission; and it may be even said that
the victors made more than the vanquished, though not of such a fatal
character. The Corinthians were not indeed wrong when in later
days they summed up the causes of the issue of the war by saying that
“the Persian was the rock on which he himself made shipwreck;” for of
the two main reasons which led to the final victory of the Greeks, one
was undoubtedly the fatal nature of the mistakes which the Persians
made. They seem, relying on their prestige, and on their enormous
numbers, to have held their adversaries too cheaply; and from this
fundamental error all their other errors were generated.
Knowledge after the event renders it very difficult to appreciate the
circumstances of any particular date in history, and the difficulty
is all the greater if the events of the time immediately succeeding
be of such a nature as to completely change those circumstances.
Such is markedly the case in the instance under consideration. The
mental attitude of the Persian towards the Greek power after 479 is
well known to the modern world; and it is recognized indeed that a
great change must have been brought about in it by the events of that
and the preceding year; but the extent of the change is not perhaps
realized, because the very real nature of the grounds of confidence
with which Persia entered upon the war are not sufficiently taken
into consideration, and the efforts made by Herodotus to bring this
confidence into prominence are too apt to be regarded as aiming at the
greater glorification of his own race.
And yet the grounds for that confidence are plain. In a long and almost
unbroken series of wars the Persian had conquered Western Asia. He had
never met with the race which could face his own upon the set field of
battle, and this, not in an experience of a few years, but of half a
century. He might indeed feel that he had been tried in the balance of
warfare and not found wanting. Man’s success against him had never been
more than temporary.
It now remains to be considered why this confidence was ill-grounded.
The Persian had never seen the Greek heavy-armed infantryman at his
best, well disciplined, and fighting on ground suited to his tactics,
save perhaps at Marathon, when the test was probably regarded as
unconvincing. #ARMS AND THE LAND.# Herodotus points out the superiority
of his panoply to that of the comparatively light-armed Persian.
There is much more of the empirical than of the scientific in the
lessons of war; and the experience of all ages points to the fact that
an army which enjoys a noticeable superiority over its enemy in respect
to weapons will in all probability, if other things be equal, come off
victorious. Such exceptions as history can adduce to this rule are
rather apparent than real, and are, in the vast majority of cases, due
to the possessor of the superior arms adopting tactics either unstated
to them, or wholly at variance with the nature of the region wherein
fighting is being carried on. The Greeks at Platæa made a mistake of
the latter kind, which was only annulled by a greater mistake made
subsequently by the other side.
In this great war, then, the two most efficient causes of its issue
were (1) the undue confidence of the Persian, giving rise to fatal
mistakes; (2) the great superiority of the Greek panoply. A third,
of a negative character, may perhaps be added, namely, that the
nature of the country did not permit of the invader making use of
his most formidable arm,—the cavalry. The second and third causes
may be included in that wider generalization which has been already
discussed;—the West on its own ground must have prevailed over the East.
The immediate preliminaries of the actual invasion of Greek territory
bring into prominence the high state of efficiency which must have
been attained in the military organization of the Persian empire.
Leaving out of consideration the difficulties to be overcome before the
huge mixed force was collected at Sardes (which town became for the
time being, in place of Susa, the prime military base of the empire),
the organization which enabled this great army to be brought without
accident, or, in so far as present knowledge goes, without a hitch
of any kind, over the eight hundred miles of difficult country which
separated its base from Middle Greece, must have been the outcome of
a highly effective and highly elaborated system evolved by a people
whose experience was indeed large and long, but who must also have been
gifted with that very high form of mental capacity which is able to
carry out a great work of this nature. The secret of success,—it
may almost be said of possibility,—in the present instance was the
employment of the fleet for commissariat purposes. It was a method
of advance not new to Persian campaigning, the first instance of its
employment going back as far as the time of the invasion of Egypt by
Cambyses.
On the Greek side organization on so huge a scale was not called for.
Numbers were smaller, and distances in comparison insignificant; and
only at the end of the campaign, when the Athenian fleet was engaged
in the blockade of Sestos, had a long period of absence from the
commissariat base to be provided for. Still, what was done must have
been done on a system; and the system cannot be supposed to have been
a bad one, for there is no hint of its ever having broken down. It was
in all probability most severely tried when it became necessary to
keep up the supplies of the great host during the weeks it remained
at Platæa. Such mention of it as occurs in Herodotus’ narrative is
of a purely incidental character. It was a side of the war in which
he was not likely to take any great interest, even if he could have
obtained much information on the subject, or have appreciated the
significance of such information as he did obtain. The disaster to the
commissariat train in the pass of Dryoskephalæ is the most prominent
of the rare instances in which Herodotus mentions anything connected
with this department of the service. His reference to a signalling
system extending through Eubœa at the time of Artemisium,—a line of
communication which was in all probability carried to the Hellenic
base in the Saronic gulf,—shows that there was a certain amount of
elaboration in the organization on the Greek side.
#STRATEGY AND TACTICS.#
When it is borne in mind that the Greeks were in this war carrying on
operations on a scale infinitely exceeding anything of which they can
have had experience, it must be admitted as remarkable that, whatever
the defects of their military policy, whatever the mistakes they made,
they managed to evolve out of their experience of operations on a
small scale a system of organization which was applicable to the great
operations of this war, and which did not in any known instance
lead to a breakdown which can be attributed to defect in the system
itself.
Of the strategy and tactics of the war itself little can be said
which has not been already said in previous chapters; still, it may
be convenient to collect together the considerations on this question
which are suggested by the history of the two years’ campaigning.
Before doing so it is perhaps necessary to define as clearly as is
possible the distinction between strategy and tactics, and that not
merely in respect to the application of the terms themselves, but also
to a not unimportant difference which may exist between the ways in
which they may be employed.
Strategy is a term usually applied to the larger operations of war
prior to or intervening between such times as armies are in close
contact with one another.
When close contact takes place, and battle is immediately imminent or
in progress, the name tactics is applied to the operations which then
ensue, and which are necessarily on a smaller scale than those to which
the term strategy is applicable.
A further and important distinction is this:—the operations known
as tactics are the outcome of full consciousness on the part of the
commander or, it may be, of the trained soldiers who employ them,—that
is to say, that he or they know not merely what to do, but why to do
it. The knowledge acted upon is in a sense scientific, though the
reasons for the act may be various:—either that the operation has
proved effective in the past, or that the tactics of the enemy demand
it, or that it is called for by the nature of the ground. It is in
respect to the last reason that tactics and strategy are most nearly
comparable; and it is manifest that it is more easy to draw conclusions
as to the results of action on a small area of country, all of which
may be comprehended in one view, than in a large area such as would
form the theatre of strategical operations.
The operations of tactics are so much more mechanical than those
of strategy that it is difficult to conceive of them as being
unconsciously carried out.
With strategy that is not the case. It may be conscious or
unconscious. The strategical conditions of a country such as Greece,
or indeed of any country, must ever be fundamentally the same, though
liable to modification by the introduction of some great novelty
into the act of war, such as long-range missiles. An army operating
in Greece or elsewhere may fulfil the strategical conditions of the
country consciously or unconsciously. It fulfils them consciously if
it appreciates them,—that is to say, if its movements are determined
by them; but it may fulfil them unconsciously even if its movements
are determined by considerations which cannot be said to rest on any
strategical basis.
It is a very important question in the war of 480–479 whether either
or both of the two sides operated with a conscious or unconscious
strategy. Beyond question many of their operations were strategically
correct. This every one who is acquainted with the story of the war
must admit; but many of the greatest writers of Greek history have
silently or expressly assumed that the agreement between the operations
and the strategical conditions of the theatre of war was due to the
circumstance that, in a country of such pronounced characteristics
as those of Greece, the physical conditions were so marked that
the strategical conditions might be fulfilled from motives wholly
unconnected with them. This might undoubtedly be the case; but was it
so?
Two great strategic designs are apparent in the main plan of the
invaders:—
(1) To create a diversion in the Western Mediterranean by stirring up
Carthage to attack the Sicilian Greeks, and so prevent aid from that
quarter reaching the mother country;
(2) To make fleet and army act in co-operation, and, furthermore,
by means of the fleet, to maintain the command of the Ægean and its
sea-ways.
On the side of the defence no plans of such magnitude are apparent; for
the very good reason that the preparations to meet the invader were
made too late for the carrying out of any far-reaching design, even had
so composite a resisting force admitted of anything of the kind.
#THESSALY AND THERMOPYLÆ.#
The first strategic action of the Greeks was the expedition to North
Thessaly. That was undoubtedly conscious strategy. It was undertaken
under the supposition that the Vale of Tempe was the only entrance into
the country; and had this supposition been correct the strategy was
sound enough. The mistake made was topographical, not strategical.
It was again sound strategy which made the Greeks, when they discovered
their error, retire from a position which was indefensible with the
numbers present with them. Even had their available force been much
larger than it actually was, it would have been a mistake to try to
defend a mountain line traversed by several passages. A successful
attempt of that nature is rare in history, because the assailant is
able to choose the passage on which his main attack shall be directed,
whereas the defender has to distribute his force at all the possible
points of assault. Moreover, the passage once forced, the assailant can
generally threaten the lines of communication of the bodies of troops
defending the other passes.
Thermopylæ and Artemisium display most clearly the strategy of the
two contending sides. It did not perhaps demand much knowledge or
much intelligence to fix upon Thermopylæ as a point of defence. It
would be difficult to mention any other great highway in the world on
which a defensive position so strong by nature is afforded. It was,
on the other hand, a great strategic blunder on the part of Sparta
that, having sent a small force to the pass, she did not later forward
reinforcements. That was no doubt part of a still greater strategic
blunder,—the desire to concentrate the defence at the Isthmus. The
three days’ fighting at Thermopylæ proved conclusively that, had an
adequate force been present there, the army of Xerxes would in all
probability never have carried the pass. Sparta and the Peloponnese
generally neither did, nor wished to, appreciate the immense strength
of the position.
Did the Persians make a mistake in their assault on the pass? It would
seem not. They did not at first know of any way of turning it. They had
to take it, because it was the only route by which they could get their
baggage train past Mount Œta. That is the difficulty of Greek
campaigning. There are perhaps many routes in the country along which a
light marching force in moderate numbers can make its way; but those by
which troops with the ordinary paraphernalia of an army, and in numbers
too large to live on the country, can go, are very few.
The Greeks learnt a lesson from their homeland,—a lesson which Xenophon
expressed in striking language to the ten thousand Greeks when they
began their famous retreat: “My view is that we should burn our
waggons, that our baggage train regulate not our march, but we go by
whatever way be expedient for the army.”[231] In the present instance
Xerxes was confined to the one route: he had to assault the pass,
because in the then state of his knowledge of the country he could do
nothing else. That he or his generals appreciated the importance of the
path of the Anopæa so soon as they were informed of it is shown by the
employment of the best troops in the army for its seizure and use.
It is, however, fairly questionable whether the direct assault on
the pass formed part of the original Persian design at Thermopylæ.
The delay of several days which took place before the actual assault
was delivered, taken in connection with the contemporary events at
Artemisium, suggests that it was originally intended to wait until the
forcing of the Euripus by the fleet made it impossible for the Greeks
to maintain their position in the pass for fear of the landing of a
force in their rear. If such were the design, it was one which bears
testimony to the strategic capacity of him who conceived it. It was
brought to nought by a factor outside all human calculation, the storm
which broke upon the fleet when anchored at the Sepiad strand.
It was indeed at this period of the war that both the contesting
parties gave conspicuous proof of their appreciation of the strategic
conditions of the region in which their operations were being carried
on. #GENIUS AND EXPERIENCE.# In point of conception there was little
to choose between the plans of the assailant and that of the
defender, but in point of execution the Greek plan was wrecked by the
deliberate failure of those who were responsible for the land section
of the general defence. That of the Persian was upset by causes beyond
human control. It is noticeable that the invaders seem to have arrived
at Thermopylæ with a fair working knowledge of the region of the Malian
gulf and the North Euripus, and it must be suspected that the heralds
sent to Greece to demand earth and water acted when there in a twofold
capacity.
Whatever failure overtook the Greek defence at this time of the war was
due not to the plan, but to the way in which it was carried out. The
design to hold the land force of the enemy at Thermopylæ and his fleet
at Artemisium was excellently conceived. It was almost certainly the
work of Themistocles. Whether honest or dishonest, he was gifted with
that rare genius which enables a man to take in the necessities of a
situation vast beyond anything within his experience. The other Greek
commanders were men of an ordinary kind, who would in all probability
have frittered away the defence in a series of measures such as their
limited experience dictated, or, still more probably, have concentrated
at the Isthmus, where the strength of the land position would have been
more than negatived by the weakness of the position at sea.
Eurybiades, the commander-in-chief, is unfortunate in the setting in
which he appears in the history of the time. His must have been an
unenviable and difficult part. The diplomacy he had to employ in order
to accommodate contending policies would seem to both sides a proof
of vacillation. Herodotus’ picture of him is not wholly sympathetic;
and yet it makes it quite clear that he was intelligent enough to
appreciate the genius of the man who was technically his subordinate,
and diplomatic enough to give the advocates of the Northern policy a
victory without provoking a fatal outbreak among the advocates of a
different design. Nor is this a small tribute to the man’s capacity.
The Peloponnesians, and especially the Corinthian opponents of the
war-policy of Themistocles, were not people who could be kept in
order even by the strong hand of Sparta, unless history draws a
very misleading picture of the circumstances within the Peloponnesian
league; and the man who captained the Greek defence through the
troubles within and without of the year 480 cannot have been lacking
in ability, even though he had at his side a pilot of the genius of
Themistocles.
The failure to support Leonidas at Thermopylæ utterly changed the
strategical conditions on which the design of the defence had been
hitherto founded, and the practical surrender of the other defensive
lines north of the Isthmus completed the wreck of the plan. The Greek
fleet on its return to Salamis found that no effort had been made, and
no real intention had existed, to send an army even into Bœotia. It is
noteworthy, however, that if the fleet really did suppose that the army
was in Bœotia, and was not undeceived on this point until it arrived at
Salamis, its commanders made a great mistake in not holding the narrows
at Chalkis, and thus preventing the landing of Persian troops in rear
of the most eminently defensive passage in Bœotia, that long strip of
narrow land between Helicon and Kopais which extended from Chæroneia to
Haliartos.
The strategy which was forced upon Themistocles by the state of things
which he discovered in existence on his return to the Saronic gulf
was the strategy of despair. The position taken up at Salamis could
only be justified on the plea that there were no other narrow waters
between it and the Isthmus where the Greek fleet could be sheltered
from the disadvantage of meeting a more numerous fleet in the open,
a large portion of which, the Phœnician, was probably superior to it
in manœuvring power. Furthermore, _if_ the Persian commanders took
the view that the fleet at Salamis must be defeated before an advance
to the Isthmus were attempted, and detained their ships on the Attic
coast, then the Persian land army, unaccompanied by the fleet, would be
rendered incapable of any sustained attack on the fortifications which
the Peloponnesians had erected. #SALAMIS.# But that “_if_” was one of
terrible significance, and the evidently nervous desire of Themistocles
to bring about a battle must have been due to his recognition of
the precarious position in which the Greeks would be placed supposing
that the Persian fleet did choose to ignore them at Salamis. The most
fatal weakness in an altogether dangerous situation was that a large
portion of the population of Attica was on Salamis Island, and could
not possibly be left to the mercy of the foe. How it came about that
the Athenians gave such hostages to fortune, instead of removing them
to the coast of Argolis, can only be conjectured. The probability is
that the interval between the arrival of the Greek fleet at Salamis
and that of the Persian at Phaleron had been too brief to render it
possible for the whole Attic population to be transported across the
Saronic gulf.
The blunder which led Xerxes to attack the Greeks at Salamis was fatal
alike tactically and strategically. He had the game in his own hand,
if he could only have recognized the fact; but in his confidence of
success with the forces at his disposal, he wished not merely to
out-manœuvre but to capture the whole Greek fleet.
The results of Salamis were immediate. The defeat and moral
disorganization of the Persian fleet made it incapable of maintaining
its position on the west side of the Ægean, though in point of
material damage, relative to numbers, it is probable that it had not
suffered more severely than the fleet which had been opposed to it.
Its departure withdrew, as it were, the keystone of the Persian plan
of invasion; and the whole edifice of design fell into ruin which was
incapable of repair, though the wreck was not so complete as to render
it impossible for Mardonius to make use of the materials in the ensuing
year. The blow had fallen on the indispensable half of the invading
force; and, bereft of the aid of the fleet, the land army could no
longer maintain itself in a country whose natural resources were wholly
inadequate to supply its wants.
According to the account followed by Herodotus, Themistocles proposed
that the Greek fleet should immediately take the offensive on the
Asian coast. The evident confusion of the story as to date renders it
difficult to say whether the proposal was a wise one or not. It was,
however, rejected by Eurybiades, who up to that time had displayed
sound common sense; and if it was really made at the date to which
Herodotus attributes it, there can be little doubt that Eurybiades was
right. The time for offensive operations had not come; for anything of
the nature of a reverse on the Asian coast might have restored once
more all the evils of the previous situation in Greece; and it is quite
possible that some argument to this effect put forward by Eurybiades
has been translated into the form of his answer to Themistocles as
given by Herodotus.
The actual design which Mardonius had in his mind when he persuaded
Xerxes to leave with him in Thessaly the most effective part of the
army of invasion is beyond conjecture at the present day. Possibly he
had at the time no very definite plan, but was content to guide, and
be guided by, events. His retirement to Thessaly was certainly due to
the question of commissariat. The country was infinitely richer than
the rest of Greece, and, besides, he had to organize a new line of
communications along the North Ægean coast. With this intent, probably,
Artabazos accompanied the retreat of Xerxes as far as the Hellespont.
The winter gave Mardonius time to form his plans for the next campaign,
and though Herodotus does not profess to know what the plans were, the
operations during the summer of 479 give something more than a clue as
to their nature.
Mardonius seems to have formed a design of two alternatives.
He knew, on the one hand, that unless the Persian fleet could be
brought back across the Ægean, an attack on the Isthmus would be
hopeless, if not impossible; in other words, the complete subjugation
of Greece was out of the question. But so long as the Greek fleet
remained as powerful as at that moment, it was also hopeless to expect
the return of the Persian; and the first problem he had to solve was
how to rob the Greek fleet of its strength.
With this intent, negotiations were opened with Athens, through the
medium of Alexander the Macedonian. When this line of action proved
ineffective, he brought pressure to bear upon the Athenians by once
more invading their territory and occupying Athens. #DESIGNS OF
MARDONIUS.# This again had no effect, except to make them even
more stubborn in their refusal to treat.
The first alternative plan had failed at its outset, so he now resorted
to the second.
After burning Athens and committing devastation in Attica he retired
into Bœotia, using Thebes as his base of operations.
There are two remarkable facts in connection with this movement
The disaster at Salamis, and the consequent retirement of the Persian
army to Thessaly, had not shaken the loyalty of Bœotia to the Persian
cause, and this despite the fact that the Bœotians were not at the end
of 480 deeply committed either to the Persian, or against the Greek.
Bœotians had, indeed, been present in Xerxes’ army when it invaded
Attica; but there is nothing whatever on record which can favour the
supposition that the Bœotians had actually fought on the Persian side
previous to the winter of 480–479. Consequently they were not deeply
committed against the cause of patriotism. They had powerful excuses
to urge for their conduct; and had they come over to the side of
the defence in that winter, but little fault could have been found
with them, even by the most bigoted patriots. Sentiment was not a
characteristic of the Bœotian. His policy was ever to join the side
from which he had most to expect; and his attitude during the time
Mardonius was in Thessaly shows clearly that he was convinced that his
interest lay with the Persian. The ruling party in Bœotia believed that
their country was destined to become a part of the Persian Empire; and,
with the selfishness of interest common to oligarchies, were prepared
to accept their fate. They must have been convinced, rightly or
wrongly, that Mardonius did not intend to desert them. The conviction
was probably correct.
Mardonius’ retirement from Attica was an outward and visible sign of
his renunciation of all idea of the complete conquest of Greece. If he
had no other scheme of conquest in his mind at that moment, why did
he stay his retreat in South Bœotia? Because, so Herodotus says, he
thought that that country was more suitable for his cavalry. But
that implies that he entertained an expectation which, on the mere
question of fact as recorded by Herodotus, he could not possibly have
entertained,—that the Greeks would follow him into Bœotia. Up to that
time they had absolutely declined to take the offensive; and yet at
this moment Mardonius must have had reason to believe that he could
force them to change their whole policy in the war, and to become the
assailant in a region highly unfavourable to their type of force, and
highly favourable to his own.
It was a remarkable situation, the clue to which is not given in any
direct statement in Herodotus. It must, therefore, be sought in the
actions of the two opponents.
The opening of the campaign of 479 reveals several very important and
well-nigh inexplicable changes on the Greek side. The most remarkable
is the complete change in the command of the two principal contingents
of the Greek forces.
In spite of the conspicuous success of the preceding year,
Themistocles and Eurybiades are both set aside, and Xanthippos,
Aristides, Pausanias, and Leutychides take their place. The change
is extraordinary, unexpected, unexplained. Probably a combination of
various motives brought it about, but, in the absence of all real
evidence, nothing more than a guess can be made at what they were. The
fact that the remainder of the war would have to be fought out on land
rather than by sea had doubtless something to do with it. In the most
remarkable case, that of Themistocles, politics may have played a part.
It has also been suggested that his vexation at the refusal of the
Greek fleet at Andros to follow his advice, and to carry the war to the
Asian coast, led him to throw up his command.
As far as the course of the war is concerned, the main difference
between the general characteristics of the campaign of 480 and 479
brought about by the change of command, is that for the ability of
Themistocles to control circumstances was substituted an ability on the
part of the new commanders to be guided by them.
#PELOPONNESIAN STRATEGY IN 479.#
There can be no question as to what was at the beginning of this
year the Spartan view as to the plan on which the campaign was to
be conducted. It comprised nothing beyond a defence of the Isthmus.
The method adopted to carry out the plan was characteristic. It was
known, of course, that Athens would be absolutely opposed to it, as
she had been in the previous year, so not a word was said to her on
the subject; nay, she was even led to believe that her own design
would be supported by Sparta. Then was adopted a policy of passive
resistance,—a resistance so obstinate and so prolonged that the
tension upon the bonds which held the patriot states together was
all but brought to the breaking point. Whether the astuteness of the
Spartan government was sufficiently great to gauge with the utmost
accuracy the amount of tension possible without bringing about actual
fracture, or whether warning from outside opened its eyes to the fact
that it had carried its policy to the extremest edge of danger, must
be a matter of opinion. At the very last moment Sparta gave way.
Athenian determination had won a victory over Spartan obstinacy.
Sparta’s calculation had evidently been all through that if she
sat still and allowed circumstances in Attica to develop under the
agency of Mardonius, Athens would be forced to surrender her plan of
campaign, and to adopt at last, though late, the war policy which the
Peloponnesians had consistently advocated from the beginning.
The Athenian plan is definitely stated in Herodotus. It consisted in
the first instance in meeting the enemy in Bœotia before he could
invade Attica a second time. Its object seems clear,—the salvation
of Attica; but if that was the only object, how is it that the plan
remained unaltered after Attica had been overrun, and its salvation was
no longer in question?
The troops despatched suddenly from Sparta while the Athenian embassy
was present there were despatched to the _Isthmus_. What lever so great
did Athens use to induce Pausanias to meet her troops at Eleusis,
and take the offensive against Mardonius in Bœotia? Herodotus makes
no statement on the subject. It is quite evident, however, from the
incompleteness of this part of the history, that he experienced great
difficulty in collecting reliable materials for the story of the
events between Salamis and Platæa. But if the main circumstances of
the time—the _facts_, that is to say, that Herodotus _does_ mention—be
taken into consideration, it is evident that the state of affairs in
Northern Greece was such as must have caused the most serious alarm
to the patriots. Thessaly had medized long ago of its own free will.
Phocis and Opuntian Locris had done so partially and under compulsion;
and, worst of all, Bœotia had thrown in her lot with the Persian in the
most unequivocal manner. Must it not inevitably have been suggested to
the Greeks of the South that there was every fear that the Persian,
though his attempt to subjugate all Hellas had failed, was only too
likely, if let alone, to be able to push forward his frontier from
Macedonia to Bœotia, from Olympus to Kithæron? It was an eventuality
that not even the Peloponnesian could regard with equanimity; and if
any valid cause can be suggested for the sudden and complete change
in the plan of the Lacedæmonian commander-in-chief after his arrival
at the Isthmus, it is that his attention was called, probably by the
Athenians, to the very serious danger of allowing events in the North
an unchecked development. The very fact that Mardonius had deliberately
stayed his movement of retreat at Thebes renders it highly probable
that the extraordinary offensive movement of the Greeks was called for
by a danger that did not exist merely in their own Imagination: in
other words, that Mardonius’ alternative design was to keep what he
could, since he could not get what he would.
This offensive movement of the Greeks has always been accounted
extraordinary by those who have paid special attention to the military
history of the time. That it was probably due to Athenian persuasion
is generally agreed, but no adequate reason for the exercise of such
persuasion on the part of Athens at this particular moment has been
put forward, still less has any reason been adduced for the yielding
of Sparta to it. The mischief for that year had been done in Attica,
and movement into Bœotia could not remedy it. #GREEK FLEET IN 479.#
The winter was drawing nigh, in which Mardonius would—if Attica was
all that he aimed at—withdraw northward, as in the previous year.
It can only have been the fear that Mardonius had gone to Thebes
with intent to stay there, that moved the Greeks to an unprecedented
course of action. They knew perfectly well that, from a purely
tactical point of view, they had everything to lose and nothing to
gain by transferring the war into a country where that much-feared but
untried factor, the Persian cavalry, could come into play; and it is
inconceivable that they can have moved north except under the stress
of what they regarded as a grave necessity. It is quite a different
question whether they took what were, under the circumstances, the
best strategical measures. Had, for instance, a force been sent with
the fleet under Leutychides to the Malian gulf, Mardonius’ position in
Bœotia would have become so perilous that it is hardly possible that he
would have ventured to retain it; and it may even be doubted whether he
could ever have won his way back past Mount Œta.
The best strategy on the Greek side in this year’s campaigning was
carried out by the commanders of the fleet; especially by Xanthippos,
the admiral of the Athenian contingent. The caution displayed in
waiting in the Western Ægean until the Ionians gave some signal was
probably wise. A move eastward before receipt of information as to
the real state of affairs on the Asian coast, as to the numbers and
position of the Persian fleet, and especially as to the whereabouts of
the Phœnician section of it, might have unduly hazarded the results
of the success already obtained on the western coast of the Ægean. On
arrival at Samos, a bold and successful attack was made on the Persian
force at Mykale. It was necessary to crush the main resistance before
further operations were attempted. After this the Spartans went home,
while the Athenians continued the campaign by a strategic move of the
highest importance. In attacking Sestos and the Thracian Chersonese,
they assailed the all-important _tête-du-pont_ in Europe, and by their
success rendered Persian operations from the Asiatic side to the north
of the Propontis difficult, if not impossible, as the Chersonese lay
on the flank of any advance from the direction of the Bosphorus
towards Macedonia and Greece. The command of the Hellespont was also
the first step towards the freeing of the great trade route to the corn
regions on the north coast of the Euxine.
The strategy of the two contending sides in the war of 480–479 must
have been deliberate. It cannot have been unconscious. The agreement
with the strategic conditions of the regions wherein fighting took
place is too close to render any such view tenable. Nor is it strange
that such should have been the case. On the one side was a race
with a war experience greater beyond comparison than that of any
other contemporary nation; on the other, a people whose quickness of
intellect rendered it peculiarly capable of supplying the defects of
experience by appreciation of the exigencies of the situation. The
Greek was among the nations what Themistocles was among the Greeks.
Though the tactics employed by either side were, as events befell, more
decisive of the issue of the war than their strategy, the question
relating to them is more simple, and may be discussed more briefly.
Of the naval tactics but little is told. From the account of Salamis
it would appear as if the aim of the Greek in an engagement was so to
steer his ship as to break as much as possible of the enemy’s oarage on
one side, and, having thus rendered his opponent’s vessel more or less
unmanageable, to ram the weakest part of its structure, the flank, with
the beak and stem of his own. It may be safely assumed that it is an
anachronism on the part of Herodotus to assign the manœuvre of cutting
the line (διέκπλους) to this period.
The fact that the vessels carried each a certain number of heavy-armed
infantry, as well as marines, and were fitted with boarding bridges
(ἀπόβαθρα), shows clearly that boarding held a prominent place in
Greek naval tactics. #LAND TACTICS.# To Kimon in later years is no
doubt due the elaboration of what may be called the “ship tactics” at
the expense of the boarding tactics, an innovation most effective in
wars between Greek and Greek, but an improvement of doubtful value in
wars with other races, where the panoply of the Greek heavy-armed
infantryman could hardly fail to be effective in close fighting. It was
left for the Roman to prove conclusively the mistake of this policy.
Perhaps it was forced on Kimon by the growing unpopularity among
the richer classes of hoplite service aboard the fleet in the long
years of warfare after 479, and not brought about by purely tactical
considerations.
The land tactics were naturally dictated by the armament of the two
opponents, the nature of the forces at their disposal, and the ground
on which at different times they came into conflict. The composition
of the Persian army placed it at a considerable disadvantage in such a
country as Greece. This disadvantage was much emphasized by the fact
that, during the campaign of 480, and, in a sense, during that of 479
also, it was the attacking force in a country which greatly favoured
the defence. Not until Mardonius took up the defensive in Bœotia was
it possible for the Persians to chose ground favourable to the nature
of their force. Against a foe of greatly superior mobility, the policy
of the defensive was the only one which the Greek army could adopt
with any hope of success, supposing that the enemy adopted tactics
suitable to his force. The difference between the two armies was, that
the Greek had everything to hope from close fighting, the Persian from
the opposite; and in every case throughout the war in which reverse or
disaster fell on either party, it was due to its having been forced,
either by the nature of the position or by some tactical error of
its own, into adopting that method of combat for which it was least
adapted. If it were not a misnomer to speak of that which is manifest
as a secret, it might be said that this is the whole secret of tactical
success and failure in the war. It was illustrated in the most marked
manner in all the three great land battles, at Thermopylæ, at Platæa,
at Mykale.
The circumstances at Thermopylæ forced the Persians to adopt tactics
involving close fighting. But it is noticeable that the Persian
soldiers and the Persian commanders did not altogether take the same
view on this question. The commanders evidently thought that
they must win the pass by mere pressure of numbers, and be prepared
to sustain losses, absolutely great, but, considering the immense
disparity between the two armies, relatively small. Probably also
circumstances rendered it all-important for them to force the pass as
soon as possible; and this could, owing to the nature of the ground,
only be accomplished by close fighting.
But the Persian soldier, soon after the attack began, discovered that
he was no match for the better-armed Greek, and proceeded, on his own
responsibility, to adopt tactics less dangerous to himself, an assault
with missiles, to which the enemy could make no effective reply. This
is clearly shown by the tactics which the Spartans were compelled to
resort to, the charge forward, and then a pretended retreat, with a
view to drawing the enemy on. But the circumstances were such that
neither side could absolutely force the other to adopt disadvantageous
tactics: nor even with whips and other severe methods of encouragement
could the Persian commanders induce their men to a sustained assault at
close quarters. In the last battle on the mound the Greeks were not cut
down, but buried beneath a shower of missiles.
Platæa affords three very remarkable examples of the contrast of
tactics. It was a battle of mistakes, in which each side conspicuously
failed to play its own game. At the first position of the Greeks the
Persian threw away his excellent cavalry in an attack on a necessarily
limited portion of the front of the unshaken Greek heavy infantry,
where outflanking was impossible, and only close fighting could be
really effective. The result was inevitable.
In the second position, the Greeks made the mistake of seeking to
maintain an advanced position in the plain, after the object with which
they had in all probability attained it, a surprise flank attack on the
Persians, had miscarried. #TACTICAL MISTAKES.# In view of the excessive
immobility of their army as compared with that of the enemy, the danger
that their line of communication with the passes, short though it was,
might be cut, was evident; and their position permitted the cavalry to
harass them on all sides by that form of attack to which it was
best adapted. The mistake cost them dearly: it ought to have cost them
the battle.
On the retirement of the Greeks from this position, Mardonius threw
away the success he had gained by hurling his light-armed infantry
against the large Spartan contingent. By doing so he threw away all
the advantage which he possessed by reason of his mobile force of
cavalry. The tactics of Pausanias were excellent, but could only
have been possible with a highly trained force, such as that which
he had under his command. He held his men back, despite a galling
shower of missiles, until, as it would seem, the foremost ranks of
the enemy behind their barrier of shields were deprived of all power
of retreating by the pressure of the ranks in rear of them. Then he
charged; and in the close fighting which ensued, the Persian had no
chance, despite that quality of conspicuous bravery in which he appears
never to have been lacking.
The same inevitable issue of battle resulted from the close fighting at
the assault on the Persian stockade.
At Mykale the Persians again made the mistake of meeting the Greeks in
that form of battle which was most eminently favourable to the more
heavily armed man, though in that case the extreme embarrassment of the
circumstances in which they found themselves may have necessitated the
line of action which they adopted.
Such, then, are the conclusions which may be drawn from the history of
the war as a whole. Perhaps the story has many morals; it certainly
has one which in later days, under the sobering influence of personal
experience, Thucydides expressed when he said that “he is the best
general who makes the fewest mistakes.” He was doubtless right,
owing to the multitude and variability of the factors in war. But in
this, the first and greatest of the wars between Greek and Persian,
the liability to error was increased by the incalculability of many
factors whose exact value only the knowledge of experience could gauge,
an experience lacking at the time, but from which both Greek and
Macedonian profited in later years.
CHAPTER XIV.
HERODOTUS AS THE HISTORIAN OF THE GREAT WAR.
A history of the war would be incomplete unless the writer made an
attempt to render an account of the evidence which the narrative
affords of the methods employed by the great historian to whom the
knowledge of almost all that is worth knowing concerning it is due. The
story of the war is the climax of Herodotus’ work. All the manifold
information which he gives of the times preceding it is merely an
overture to the history of the struggle in which the fate of Greece,
and it may be of Europe, was decided. But this preliminary portion
of his work, though intensely interesting from a critical point of
view, and though artistically one with the purely Hellenic part of his
narrative, does not fall within the scope of a criticism which aims
mainly at summing up the results of an inquiry as to the amount of
light which the land of Greece at the present day casts upon the work
of an author of more than 2000 years ago.
The term “father of history,” commonly applied to Herodotus, is of
no small significance in relation to the circumstances under which
his work was done. Of itself it implies a genius that overcame many
difficulties, and which was peculiarly creative, in that it introduced
into the educated world a form of literature of which no previous
example can be said to have existed.
But this is not all. Under his hand the new literature was given a form
which, though modified by later writers, must still serve as a pattern
to those who write with twenty centuries of experience behind them.
#INFLUENCE OF CONTEMPORARIES.# It is easy to point out defects in
Herodotus’ work as a whole,—lack of arrangement, and what not,—and it
is demanded by the interests of history that such defects should be
pointed out; but, in so doing, it should be remembered that the work
criticized is not merely the foundation but a large part of the edifice
of that school of experience which renders such criticism possible, and
that the apparatus for it is largely supplied by the many excellences
of the historian’s method.
◆Contemporary colouring.◆
Any attempt to examine the work of a writer of history must, if it
is to be in any sense successful, take into account the contemporary
colouring of time and place under which the work was composed. This,
true of every age of the world, is peculiarly demanded in the case of
a work of the fifth century before Christ, when the local colouring
was of such peculiar vividness as to affect to an unusual degree the
view of those who lived and wrote under its influence. There are many
sides to this question, a full discussion of which would demand much
time, and would not be wholly apposite to the purpose of this chapter.
It will be sufficient to speak of those aspects which must affect a
judgment of Herodotus as historian of the Persian War.
As the pioneer in a new form of literature, he was peculiarly liable
both to affect, and to be affected by, the interests of the audience
for which he wrote; and the latter tendency could not fail to be
emphasized by the extreme susceptibility which the Greek displayed
to the feelings of his contemporaries. The interests of an audience
uneducated in history must necessarily be limited. A writer writing for
such an audience would naturally tend towards a form of composition in
which the narrative dealt mainly with such incidents as are especially
calculated to excite men’s interest. Hence it arises that the two great
historians of the fifth century were, above all, historians of the
military events of their time; and their work as writers of history in
the larger sense is made subservient to the more limited scope of their
main design.
◆Research.◆
Herodotus started on his task as a military historian with little or no
practical experience, but with an immense capacity for taking pains.
Excellence and defect alike have left their impress on his work;
but it may be said without prejudice that his diligence of research
has more than counterbalanced his lack of experience. The general
result is that he has given to the world the data necessary for a true
understanding of the events of the time of which he wrote, though he
has in many instances failed to grasp their significance, and in a few
instances has evidently misinterpreted them.
A reference has been made to “prejudice” in judging Herodotus. No
author has perhaps suffered more than he from the existence of this
feeling in the minds of those who have criticized him. The very
lovableness of the man, so transparent in his writings, seems to have
been the cause which has produced exaggerated appreciation of his work,
whose very exaggeration has, human nature being what it is, called into
existence depreciations at least equally unsound.
On the general question, before entering into details, this much may
be said: that the main lesson which is conveyed to one who prosecutes
inquiry in Greece at the present day on such points as are calculated
to throw light upon the nature of his work is that, while it would be
a mistake to regard him as a paragon of accuracy, he in many cases
attained to an accuracy which was wonderful, considering the means at
his disposal.
In examining the work of any historian, great or small, the inquiry
must resolve itself into three sections: (1) the influence of the
personal character of the historian on his work; (2) the influence on
his work exerted by the associations of the time at which he wrote; (3)
the nature of the materials which lay to his hand. The purely Hellenic
history in Herodotus’ work throws considerable light on all these three
points.
Theoretically it is, for the sake of dearness, desirable to keep these
sections distinct: practically it is not possible to do so, since they
must necessarily overlap.
◆Influence of personal character.◆
The most prominent personal characteristic of the historian which
influenced his work was the absolute honesty with which he stated what
he believed to be the truth, and the infinity of the pains which he
took to arrive at it. #DILIGENCE IN INQUIRY.# It does not follow that
what he believed to be true was true, but he did all that he could
to get at the facts; and there is no single instance in his history
of the war in which he can be shown to have deliberately perverted
them. He had, like other men, his prejudices and predilections. He was
affected, as all men must be, by the views held at the time at which
he wrote concerning the time of which he wrote; and it is to these
influences, and not to historical dishonesty on his part, that any fair
judgment of him must attribute the obvious or suspected misstatements
which are found in his Hellenic history. If this is not the case, he
was one of the strangest compounds of the true and the false that
ever lived. The dishonest historian does not want to know the truth;
whereas it can be shown, not merely from Herodotus’ own language, but
from actual facts existent at the present day, that Herodotus ardently
desired to do so. Perhaps the most marked examples of this desire are
afforded by the demonstrable care and pains which he devoted to his
inquiries into the topography of the scenes of two events which are of
peculiar interest,—the battles of Thermopylæ and Platæa. There can be
no real question that he visited both places, and, not merely that, but
that his examination of them was extremely careful. Whatever defects
there are in the narrative of those two great battles are not of a
topographical character, but are due almost entirely to difficulties in
obtaining information. It may be argued that a man who took such pains
to discover the truth of topographical detail, would be likely to take
similar pains with details not topographical.
◆Deliberate omissions.◆
Another remarkable characteristic of his work is the way in which he
will deliberately leave an important story incomplete, rather than
insert details for which he had no real foundation of information.
There are several examples of this. The history of the Ionian revolt,
the most important section of the preliminary part of his work, is
very defective. There are serious omissions, and the whole story is
excessively fragmentary. A dishonest historian would have been tempted
to round off the tale: an unscrupulous one would not have hesitated to
do so.
But the most remarkable narrative of the incomplete type is that
of Marathon. The best of raconteurs is content to give a mutilated
account of what was reckoned, by the Athenian at any rate, one of
the greatest events of Greek history; and the omissions are of such
a character that it is almost impossible to believe that they can
have been unconscious. Nor can it be supposed but that any amount of
information of a certain type was available to him at the time at which
he was at Athens. He must have rejected a large mass of the traditional
evidence as unsatisfactory; otherwise the amount of descriptive
narrative which he could have devoted to the battle would have been
much greater than it is. The evident mistakes in such parts of the
tradition as he does reproduce show the difficulty he experienced in
arriving at the facts relating to the events of that time. The ten
years of the past which had intervened between the campaign of Datis
and Artaphernes and the great war made, no doubt, a world of difference
to an author of later date, who was obliged to rely largely for his
facts on contemporary oral evidence.
◆Prejudice.◆
Another class of narratives bearing on the question of the author’s
honesty consists of those which contain matter suggestive of the
suspicion that personal prejudice led him to deliberate perversion
of facts. The question is not in the present instance as to the fact
of perversion; but as to whether it was or was not of a deliberate
character. There can be but little doubt that personal prejudice of
various kinds did colour his views, and led him to do injustice to some
of the men and events of the time.
In the story of the Ionian revolt he displays a most marked antipathy
to the Ionians. He has hardly a good word to say of them in any
department of life; their literary men are very inferior persons; their
kinsmen across the sea were ashamed to claim connection with them; they
were pusillanimous, if not actually cowardly, in their conduct during
the war. Not one of these judgments can be regarded as sound, and the
last and most severe is conspicuously refuted by the plain fact that it
took Persia nigh seven years to crush their resistance, and that only
at the expense of very serious loss to herself.
#SOURCE OF “PREDUDICES.”#
If these were untruths due to mere malignity on the part of the
historian, statements which he knew to be untrue, it might be expected
that he would display the same animus against the Ionians in all other
parts of his history in which they are prominent. This is, however,
very far from being the case. He specially records their bravery at
Salamis. This record might be interpreted as intended to prejudice
them in the eyes of the Greeks, did not his account of Mykale bring
into prominence their services to the Greek cause on that occasion. It
is, therefore, probable that the variation in his attitude towards the
race is due largely to the variety of the sources of his information,
combined, no doubt, with a strong personal feeling on his own as to
their action on different occasions. His information on the subject
of the revolt was certainly obtained from sources unfriendly to them,
among which it may be presumed that the tradition current in his own
time in Halikarnassos and the Dorian cities of Asia generally was not
the least prominent. These cities certainly played no great part in the
revolt; they probably stood aloof altogether; and those who have failed
to fight the fight of liberty are not apt to be well disposed to those
who have fought and failed. Moreover, they may have regarded the revolt
as a colossal political blunder; and Herodotus may have acquired this
view, which he held most strongly himself, from the older men of his
native city who remembered the terrible time.
In Ionia itself, in Herodotus’ own day, the traditions of the revolt
were probably highly contradictory. It is plain from the reliable
material in his account, that its failure would lead to mutual
recrimination between the members of the various cities which had taken
part therein; and such recriminations would inevitably tend to confirm
the low opinion which Herodotus had heard expressed in his home-land
concerning the conduct of the Ionians at the time of the revolt. His
impressions were wrong; but it is perhaps not unnatural that he should
have formed them.
He displays the bias of his personal opinion very decidedly in his
references to Themistocles. In this case also it is probable that
he adopted views which he had frequently heard expressed by
others. The Themistocles legend which he followed seems to have been
originally a separate tradition which he has interwoven into the
general traditions relating to the war of 480. It was probably created
by the political party opposed to Themistocles, with members of which
Herodotus must have come into contact during his sojourn in Athens.
Themistocles’ services at the time of Salamis were too notorious to be
wholly buried in oblivion; but the legend as Herodotus received it left
nothing unsaid which might discount their value. The suggestion that
the Greeks should fight in the strait is attributed to Mnesiphilos; and
Themistocles is represented as having adopted it without acknowledgment.
In like manner his persuasion of the Athenians to use the increased
proceeds of the mines at Laurion for the purposes of the fleet is
ascribed, not to a foresight which foresaw the coming of the storm from
Asia four years before it burst, but to the immediate necessities of
the war with Ægina.
Further tales to his discredit are those of his financial
corruptibility at Artemisium and Andros, and the self-seeking intent of
his message to Xerxes with respect to the Hellespont bridge. All three
contain elements of inherent improbability which, while they do not
refute them, render them of doubtful credibility.
Was Herodotus honest in his conviction of the truth of these ill-tales?
No author that ever lived has been at less pains to conceal his
individuality in what he wrote. His narrative is peculiarly personal.
It is, therefore, far more easy in his writings to judge of the mental
attitude of the writer than is usually the case in literature, and
especially in historical literature, whether ancient or modern.
He was not merely conscious but absolutely convinced of the reign of
moral law in human affairs. #PRESENT COLOURING OF PAST EVENTS.# He
would, therefore, feel extreme repugnance for such moral weakness as
that with which Themistocles was charged; and this very characteristic
would lead him, if once convinced of the general existence of such
weakness, to give credence to any and every tale which might be adduced
to illustrate it. The tales, too, were mere rose-water stories
compared with some of the charges which Aristophanes does not hesitate
to bring against political opponents, and may have seemed to Herodotus
to be stamped with the moderation of truth when compared with some of
the political gossip in the Athens of his day.
The whole question of this Themistocles legend is one of the most
difficult in Greek history. It is certain, on the one hand, that
Herodotus had a distinct animus against the man. It seems also certain
that the version of it which the historian followed was either the
creation of political opponents or, at any rate, was strongly infected
with the feeling which Themistocles’ conduct during the latter years of
his life, as interpreted by the Athenians, must inevitably have aroused
with regard to him.
◆Influence of contemporary feeling.◆
There are other parts of Herodotus’ narrative of the war which are
manifestly coloured by the events of later years. Compelled, no doubt,
to resort to Athens for many of his materials, he would inevitably
reflect largely in his history the Athenian political feeling of the
time at which he wrote.
The most noticeable instance of its influence upon him is shown in
his treatment of the Corinthians. This people could not be accused
of having played an unpatriotic part during the war, and yet no
opportunity is lost of placing their conduct in an unfavourable
light. They are represented as being foremost in opposition to such
measures as after-events proved to have been of the greatest benefit
to the national cause, and finally a distinct, and almost certainly
unfounded, charge of cowardice at Salamis is brought against them. That
Herodotus thought the war policy which they advocated, the defence
of the Isthmus, a mistaken one, is evident; but this view of his is
not sufficient to account for his treatment of them. That can only be
attributed to an Athenian tradition which had been strongly influenced
by the bitter and long-continued hostility which arose between Athens
and Corinth some twenty years after the events of 480.
There are other passages in his history which must be attributed to the
use of materials drawn from a similar source, similarly infected.
The story of the behaviour of the Greek centre after the withdrawal
from the second position at Platea, in which the Corinthians and
Megareans are brought into special prominence, is probably one of them.
To a like origin may be ascribed the various tales to the discredit
of the Æginetans in reference to the events immediately following the
battle. The case of the Æginetans is especially interesting, because
the author’s treatment of them resembles his treatment of the Ionian
Greeks. He records their noticeable bravery at Salamis. This diversity
of treatment affords strong evidence that the animus displayed by
him had its origin in the sources from which he drew his history,
independent of personal feeling.
◆Sources and records.◆
It is easy to say that he might have guarded against accepting _ex
parte_ statements as history. But those who realize the magnitude of
the difficulties under which he worked will be rather inclined to
marvel at the success with which he managed to overcome them, than
to moralize on the instances in which he succumbed. He was writing
the history of a period many years after it had closed. Of official
records but few can have existed; and the instance of the inscription
on the tripod, commemorating the battle of Platea, shows that such
records were not always trustworthy. The semi-official records in the
shape of copies of oracular responses were still more unreliable.
And what was there beyond these? Current traditions, some perhaps
pan-Hellenic, but the majority originating in different Greek states,
with an amount of local colouring as varied as the variety of their
sources. Some of the traditions may have been committed to writing.
But who could have reconciled the truth of the numerous versions of
the same story on which the lively imagination of the Greek had had
full play for many years? #EFFECT OF PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS.# Lastly,
there was the purely oral evidence of those who had been present at
events; and it says much for the critical capacity and diligent inquiry
of the historian that, despite the notorious difficulty of dealing
with evidence of this kind, much of his work which may be proved at
the present day to be accurate must have been drawn from such a
source. Could a skilled historian of the nineteenth century have done
much better work with such materials at his disposal? The history of
the campaigns of 1805 and 1806, composed under like conditions, not
less than thirty years after they took place, would have been strange
reading.
◆Religious feeling.◆
The strong individuality which is impressed on, and expressed by,
almost every page he wrote was so marked, that it could not fail
to affect in some form or other his character as an historian. His
personal piety has left indelible trace in his writings. His critical
capacity was deliberately laid aside wherever he saw, or thought he
saw, the hand of God at work in the world. This is most noticeably
displayed in his treatment of the oracles relating to events of the
time of which he wrote. His attitude towards them is very remarkable.
This ultramontane of the fifth century before Christ never lost
faith in them, despite the fact that he records instances of their
fallibility and even of their actual dishonesty.
Such an attitude could not fail to introduce a specific element of
unreliability into his work.
But this personal characteristic affected his writings in another way.
It made him at times anxious not merely to inform, but to instruct,—to
show men the better way as he understood it. He consequently preferred
a tale with a moral to one without; and oftentimes when he gives two
versions of the same story, he expresses his personal belief in the
less probable of the two, evidently for no other reason than that the
moral conveyed by it is either more obvious or more impressive.
The mere fact, again, that he does give in many instances two versions
of the same story shows that he was anxious to do justice to those who
were affected by them. The two versions of the conduct of Argos at
the time of the war are, perhaps, the most striking instance of his
wish to deal fairly with all those whom he brought upon the stage of
history. His attitude towards the unpatriotic Greeks renders it certain
that, had he always allowed his personal bias undue weight in the
balance of historical writing, the conduct of Argos would not have been
represented as open to two possible interpretations, one of them much
more favourable than the other.
◆Unprejudiced judgments.◆
The expressions of his own personal judgment on historical questions
which arise in his narrative are for the most part stated with
reference to the motives which prompted certain actions, and are of
very various value. On purely military questions they are, with the
striking exception of his statement of opinion as to the motive of the
withdrawal of the army from Thessaly, as a rule of little weight. He
did not possess that practical knowledge of war and of command which
alone could have rendered his personal views on such questions a matter
of serious consideration. His excellence as a military historian is not
on that side. It lies in his having been a diligent, accurate, honest
recorder of facts, in so far as a man could be who wrote under the
circumstances under which he wrote.
◆Rhetoric and drama.◆