BACK TO ATHENS.
Callias started about the middle of April, according to our reckoning.
His journey to the Bosphorus was much retarded by contrary winds. For
some days no progress could be made, and it was well into May before he
reached Byzantium. There he was fortunate enough to get a passage in a
Spartan despatch boat, which took him as far as the port of Corinth,
thus carrying him, of course, beyond his destination, but to a point
from which it was easy for him to find his way to Athens. It was about
the beginning of June when he landed at the Piraeus. He did not doubt
for a moment about the place where his first visit was due. The fact was
that he had no near relations. The kinsman who was his legal guardian
had always given up the business of looking after his ward’s property to
Hippocles; and now that Callias was his own master, there was little
more than a friendly acquaintance between the two cousins. The alien’s
house was, he felt, his real home, nor had he given up the hope that in
spite of Hermione’s strongly expressed determination, he might some day
become a member of his family.
Hippocles happened to have just returned from his business at the
shipyard, when the young Athenian presented himself at the gate. Nothing
could be warmer than the welcome he gave his visitor.
[Illustration: THE ACROPOLIS AT THE PRESENT DAY.]
“Now Zeus and Athene be thanked for this,” he cried as he wrung the
young man’s hand. “That you had come back safely from the country of the
Great King I heard. Your friend Xenophon told me so much in a letter
that I had from him about a year ago. Then I heard from him that you
were dangerously ill. After that all was a blank, and I feared the
worst. But why not a word all this time?”
“Pardon me, my dear friend, I think I may say that it was not my fault.
For months I was simply too ill to write. When I came back to Trapezus,
the winter had begun, and there were no more ships sailing westward. I
should have written when communications were opened again, but I was
always in hopes of being allowed by the physician to start, and I had a
fancy for bringing my own news. And how are you?”
“I am well enough,” replied Hippocles, “but we have been passing through
times bad enough to shorten any man’s life. I don’t speak of trade.
There have been troubles there, but when one has ventures all over the
world, it does not matter very much as far as profits are concerned, if
things do not go right at one place or another. It has been the state of
home affairs that has been the heaviest burden to bear. I thought we had
touched the bottom when the city had to surrender to Lysander. But it
was not so, and I might have known better. The Spartans, of course,
upset the democracy.”
“Well,” interrupted Callias, “I should have thought that that would not
have been by any means an altogether unmixed evil.”
“Yes,” said Hippocles, “and there have been times when I have been ready
to think the same. But wait till you see an oligarchy in power, really
in power, I mean, not with a possible appeal to the people, and so a
chance of having to answer for themselves before them, but with a strong
foreign garrison behind them. We had that state of things in Athens for
more than half a year. One might almost say that it was like a city
taken by storm. No man’s life was safe unless he was willing to do the
bidding of the Tyrants--the ‘Thirty Tyrants’ was the nickname of the men
that were in power in those days. Who would have thought that Theramenes
would ever have been regretted by honest men? Yet it was so. He thought
his colleagues were going too far, and opposed them. He was carrying the
Senate with him, for many besides him were beginning to feel
uncomfortable; so they murdered him. The Thirty had, you must know, a
sort of sham general assembly--three thousand citizens picked out of the
whole number as holding strong oligarchical opinions. Amongst the laws
that they had made one was that none of these Three Thousand were to be
condemned without a vote of the Senate. The name of Theramenes was, of
course, on the list, and, as he had a majority of the Senate with him,
he seemed safe. Well what did Critias, who was the leader of the violent
party, do? He filled the outer circle of the Senate house with armed
men, the Senate, you must understand, sitting in the middle surrounded
by them. Then he got up and said, ‘A good president, when he sees the
body over which he presides about to be duped, does not suffer them to
follow their own counsel. Theramenes has duped you, and I and these men
here will not suffer one who is the enemy of his country to do so any
longer. I have therefore struck his name off the list of the Three
Thousand. This leaves me and my colleagues free to deal with him without
your assent.’ The Senate murmured, but dared do nothing more. The
officers came and dragged the man from the altar to which he was
clinging. An hour afterwards he had drunk the hemlock. The gods below be
propitious to him, for great as were his misdeeds he died in a good
cause and as a brave man should die.[80] Things have not been so bad
since the ‘Thirty’ were upset, but there is a sad story to tell you.”
Callias paused awhile. At last he screwed up his courage to put a
question which he had both longed and feared to put ever since he had
set foot in the house.
“And your daughter, is she well?”
“Yes, she is well.”
“And still with you?”
“Yes, she is at home,” briefly answered the father.
Hermione had in fact, refused several offers which every one else had
thought highly eligible. Hippocles, though by no means anxious to lose a
daughter who was not only a companion but a counsellor, was growing
anxious at what appeared her manifest determination to remain single. He
would have dearly liked to have a son-in-law who would be able to take
up in time the burden of his huge business, a burden which he began to
feel already somewhat heavy for his strength. Callias would have been
entirely to his heart, but he had accepted, though not without great
reluctance, his daughter’s views on this subject. That she should deny
the young Athenian’s suit, and yet for his sake dismiss all other
suitors--and this he began to suspect to be the fact--seemed to his
practical mind a quite unreasonable course of action. When a distant
kinsman from Italy, a handsome youth of gracious manners and of
unexceptionable character, with even a tincture of culture, was
emphatically refused, Hippocles ventured a remonstrance. Its reception
was such that he resolved never under any circumstances to repeat it.
Hermione had been always the most obedient of daughters, but this roused
her to open rebellion. “Father,” she said, “in this matter I am and must
be a freeborn Italian. A Greek father can arrange a marriage for his
daughter, but you must not think of it. I shall give myself as my mother
gave herself before me--if I could find one as worthy as she did,” and
she caught her father’s hand and kissed it, breaking at the same time
into a passion of tears. “Forgive me,” she went on in a broken voice,
“for setting up myself against you; but if you love me, never speak on
this subject again.” And her father resolved that he never would.
The young Athenian felt a glow of renewed hope pass through him at the
father’s reply, studiously brief and cold as it was. Anyhow Hermione was
not married. What could ever occur to change her purpose he did not
care to speculate. Nevertheless, as long as she did not belong to
another, he need not despair.
“You will dine with me of course,” said Hippocles to his visitor, “by
good luck I have invited Xenophon. Doubtless that is he,” he went on, as
a kick was heard at the door.[81]
A few moments afterwards a slave introduced Xenophon; and before the two
friends had finished their greetings it was announced that dinner had
been served.
Hermione was not present at the meal, nor did her father make any excuse
for her absence. The presence of any guest not belonging to the regular
family circle, was sufficient to account for it; and Callias, though he
hoped against hope to see her, could not but acknowledge to himself that
a meeting would have been highly embarrassing.
Conversation did not flag during the meal. When it was finished, the
host excused himself on the score of having some business matters on
hand which did not brook delay; and Xenophon and Callias were left to
talk over each other’s adventures.
When Callias had told the story with which my readers are already
acquainted, Xenophon proceeded to give him a brief outline of his
fortunes since they had parted.
“Well, my dear Callias,” he said, “you did not lose much by not being
with us. While we were in danger, we stuck fairly together, though there
were always cowardly and selfish fellows who thought, not of the general
welfare, but only of their own skins or their own pockets. But when we
were safe at the coast and among friends, then there arose endless
division. And, indeed, I must allow that the situation of the army was
very trying. Here were thousands of men who lived by their pay, and
there was no paymaster. I had a scheme of my own which would really have
kept us together. If it could have been carried out, the gathering of
the Ten Thousand, even though it had failed of its first object, would
not have been altogether in vain. I wanted to found a new Greek colony.
We might have taken Pharis or some other city of the barbarians; and if
only half of my comrades had been willing to stay, we might have made a
rich and powerful place of it before long. But it was not to be. Perhaps
I was not worthy of being the founder of such a colony; anyhow the
scheme came to nothing. I will tell you how it was. You remember
Silanus, the soothsayer. I never trusted the man. He was quite capable
of garbling signs to suit his own advantage. However I could not help
going to him on this occasion, as he was the chief of his craft. So I
said, ‘Offer sacrifices and determine the omens concerning this scheme
of a new colony.’ Now Silanus was about the only man who had any money
in his pocket. Cyrus had given him three thousand darics[82] for a
prophecy that had come true, and he wanted to get home with the spoil.
So he was altogether against the idea of a colony. When he had
sacrificed he could not say that the omens were altogether against the
scheme; for I knew nearly as much about the matter as he did. What he
did say was that there were indications of a conspiracy against me. And
he took good care to make them true, for he spread about reports of what
I was going to do that turned the army against me. So the scheme came
to nothing.
“This did one good thing, however, for it helped us on our way home.
Trapezus and the other colonies in the east of the Euxine did not relish
the idea of a new Greek city which might turn out to be a formidable
rival. So they offered to transport the army to the Hellespont and to
furnish pay from the first new moon after the departure. This seemed a
good offer, and I recommended the soldiers to close with it, and said
that I gave up my scheme. ‘Only,’ I said, ‘let us all keep together and
let any one who leaves us be counted a malefactor.’ For I did not choose
that my friend the soothsayer should get the better of it.
“Well, we set sail; our first halt was at Sinope, which is roughly
speaking, about halfway between Trapezus and Byzantium. Then the army
wanted to make me commander-in-chief. Happily the omen was against it,
and I was able to decline. We started again, and got to Heraclea. The
people were very hospitable; but some scoundrels in the army wanted to
lay a contribution upon the city. Chirisophus, the Spartan--I should
have told you that on my refusal the army gave him the chief
command--refused to have anything to do with such an abominable
business, and I backed him up. Of course the city shut its gates against
us, and we got nothing at all. After this the army broke up into three.
One of the divisions, made up of Arcadians and Achaeans, the most
unscrupulous and greedy of the whole number, got into serious trouble
when they were trying to plunder the country, and I had to rescue them,
for two thousand men had stuck to me when the army was thus broken up.
Then the other division under Chirisophus were nearly as badly off, and
I had to get them out of a scrape. After this they came together again,
and it was made a matter of death for anyone to propose a separation.
“It was well we did, for everyone seemed bent on treating us as
villanously as possible. Would you believe that the Spartan governor of
Byzantium actually sold as slaves four hundred soldiers who had found
their way into the city? It is true that they were stragglers and had no
business there; but it was an abominable act. At last, one Seuthes, who
had been chief of the Odrysians, and deposed by a usurper, offered to
take the whole army into his pay, if we would help him to recover his
dominions. Every man was to receive a stater[83] per month, the captains
twice, and the generals four times as much. Also he offered lands, oxen
to plough it with, and a city with walls. In fact the colony scheme
seemed likely to be carried out after all. To me he was very munificent
in his promises. I was to have one of his daughters to wife and a city
of my own.”
“What did you say to that?” said Callias.
“Well, the only one of these things that Seuthes really had in his
possession was the daughter. I saw the young lady, handsome I will
allow, and tall; but, oh, such a savage! As for the money, and the land,
and the oxen, and the towns, walled and unwalled, we had to get them for
him and then have our portion back. However, it seemed to me the best
thing for the army to do, and I advised the men to that effect, and they
agreed, only it was provided that we were never to march more than seven
days’ journey from the seacoast. We had all had enough of marches up
the country. Then Seuthes gave us a feast by way of striking the
bargain.
“It was a wonderful scene, and some day I must tell you all about it.
But I must own that for a time I felt as uncomfortable as ever I did in
my life. After dinner when the bowl had passed round two or three times,
in came a Thracian leading a white horse. He took the bowl from the
cup-bearer, and said, ‘Here is a health to thee, King Seuthes. Let me
give you this horse. Mounted on him thou shalt take whom thou wilt, and
when thou retirest from the battle thou shalt dread no pursuer.’ Then
another gave a slave, and another some robes for the Queen, and a fourth
a silver saucer and a finely embroidered carpet. All the while I was
sitting in an agony, for I was in the place of honor, and had nothing to
offer. However ‘our lady of Athens,’ who is the inspirer of clever
devices, and, it may be Father Bacchus also, for I had drained two or
three cups, helped me out of my difficulty. When the cup-bearer handed
me the goblet, I rose and said, ‘King Seuthes, I present you with myself
and these my trusty comrades. With their help you will recover the lands
that were your forefathers’ and gain many new lands with them. Nor shall
you win lands only, but horses many, and men many, and fair women also.’
Up got the King, at this, and we drained the cup together.
“Seuthes was not going to let the grass grow under his feet. When we
left the banqueting tent--this was at sunset because we wanted to set
the guards about our camp--the King, who, for all his potations, was as
sober as a water-drinker, sent for the generals and said, ‘My neighbors
have not yet heard of this alliance of ours. Let us go and take them by
surprise.’ And so we did. We went that night and brought back booty
enough to pay for our day’s pay, I warrant you.
“Well, we went on fighting for Seuthes for two months till we had
conquered the whole countryside for him. Then the conquered tribes
flocked to him--give a Thracian plenty to eat and drink and good pay and
he will fight in any quarrel--till he did not want any more. That
perhaps was not to be wondered at, but, like the mean hound that he was,
he tried to get out of paying us.
“Just at this moment when I thought that we should have to settle with
the sword for judge, Sparta declared war against the Persians and wanted
all the men she could get. So Thuisbron, their commander-in-chief, came
over and engaged the men at the same rate of pay that Seuthes was giving
or rather promising. We never got anything but a wretched fragment from
the King.
“By this time I had had about enough of campaigning of this fashion. Not
a drachma had I made. In fact I was poorer than when I set out. I had
even to sell my favorite horse, but Thuisbron bought it back for me.
“Just at the last I had a stroke of luck. That is another story I must
tell you some day. But fortunately we took prisoners a Persian noble
with his wife and children, his horses and cattle and all that he had.
The next day I left the army, but before I went they gave me the pick of
the beasts of all kinds. It was a handsome present, I can tell you.”
“So, on the whole,” said Callias, “you came pretty well out of the
business. You returned at least not poorer than you went, you have won
for yourself a name which those who come after us will not, I take it,
forget, and you helped, at least, to save the lives of many Greeks from
perishing shamefully by the hands of the barbarians. Are you not
content?”
“Yes,” replied Xenophon, “all the more content on account of one thing
you have not mentioned. For this indeed pleases me in the matter that we
Greeks have now found a way by which we may both go to the capital of
the Persians and return therefrom. Verily, I sometimes wish we had not
been so eager to retreat, but had stopped and made ourselves masters of
the country of our enemies. Perhaps we were not strong enough; but, if I
can see so far into the future, some one will do this hereafter, and
Greece will be avenged of all that she has suffered at the hands of the
barbarians.”
“The Master will be glad,” Callias went on after a pause.
The “Master” of course was Socrates. Xenophon looked at the young man
with some surprise.
“You seem very confident on this point. He indeed was always somewhat
doubtful, and certainly there are great difficulties when you come to
look into it a little more closely.”
“I really do not know what you mean,” answered Callias; “you have seen
him I suppose, for you have been in Athens several days and know what he
thinks.”
For a few moments Xenophon stared at the speaker in utter perplexity.
Then a light broke in upon him. “What,” he cried, “you do not know? You
have not heard?”
“Know what? Have heard what? You speak in riddles.”
“That he is dead.”
The young man covered his face with his hands. After a few minutes he
recovered calmness enough to speak. “No, indeed, I did not know it. I
never thought of such a thing. He seemed so full of life and vigor. Yet
he must have been an old man, not far from seventy I suppose, for he was
more than forty at Delium.[84] Tell me of what did he die?”
“They killed him.”
“Killed him! Who killed him?”
“The people of Athens.”
FOOTNOTES:
[80] The last scene of his life is described by Xenophon. I give the
passage with some explanation. When he drank the fatal cup he threw the
dregs on the floor with the peculiar jerk given in playing the game of
Cottabos. This game had several forms; but the feature common to them
all was the heaving of wine out of a cup. Sometimes the object seems to
have been a kind of fortune telling. A guest when he had finished his
cup would jerk out any dregs that might be left. At the same time he
named the guest who was to drink next, and the sound made by the drops
falling was supposed to give some omen good or bad. “To the gracious
Critias,” said Theramenes. It was to be a prophecy of his fate. As a
matter of fact Critias fell a few weeks afterward in a battle with
Thrasybulus and the exiles of the democratic party.
[81] It was usual to kick not to knock with the hand.
[82] About $18,000.
[83] Something less than $6.
[84] The battle of Delium (between the Boeotians and the Athenians)
was fought in 424. The precise age of Socrates at the time of his death
was seventy.