Part 13

[Illustration: A REUNION AT THE HOUSE OF ASPASIA.]

The treasure laid up at Athens in time became great. The payments amounted to about six hundred talents yearly, and at one time the treasury of Athens held the great sum of nine thousand seven hundred talents, equal to over eleven million dollars,--a sum which meant far more then than the equivalent amount would now.

It was this money that made Athens great. It proved to be more than was necessary for defensive war against Persia, or even for the aggressive war which was carried on in Asia Minor and Egypt. It also more than sufficed for sending out the colonies which Athens founded in Italy and elsewhere. The remainder of the fund was used in Athens, part of it in building great structures and in producing splendid works of art, part for purposes of fortification. The Piræus, the port of Athens, was surrounded by strong walls, and a double wall--the famous "Long Walls"--was constructed from the city to the port, a distance of four miles. These walls, some two hundred yards apart, left a grand highway between, the channel of a steady traffic which flowed from the sea to the city, and which for years enabled Athens to defy the cutting off its resources by attack from without. Through this broad avenue not only provisions and merchandise, but men in multitudes, made their way into Athens, until that city became fuller of bustle, energy, political and scholarly activity, and incessant industry than any of the other cities of the ancient world.

In a city like this, free and equal as were its citizens, and democratic as were its institutions, some men were sure to rise to the surface and gain controlling influence. In the period in question there were two such men, Cimon and Pericles, men of such eminence that we cannot pass them by unconsidered. Cimon was the son of Miltiades, the hero of Marathon, and became the leader of aristocratic Athens. Pericles was the great-grandson of Cleisthenes, the democratic law-giver, and, though of the most aristocratic descent, became the leader of the popular party of his native city.

The struggle for precedence between these two men resembled that between Themistocles and Aristides. Cimon was a strong advocate of an alliance with Sparta, which Pericles opposed. He was brilliant as a soldier, gained important victories against Persia, but was finally ostracized as a result of his friendship for Sparta. He came back to Athens afterwards, but his influence could not be regained.

It is, however, of Pericles that we desire particularly to speak,--Pericles, who found Athens poor and made her magnificent, found her weak and made her glorious. This celebrated statesman had not the dashing qualities of his rival. He was by nature quiet but deep, serene but profound, the most eloquent orator of his day, and one of the most learned and able of men. He was dignified and composed in manner, possessed of a self-possession which no interruption could destroy, and gifted with a luminous intelligence that gave him a controlling influence over the thoughtful and critical Athenians of his day.

Pericles was too wise and shrewd to keep himself constantly before the people, or to haunt the assembly. He sedulously remained in the background until he had something of importance to say, but he then delivered his message with a skill, force, and animation that carried all his hearers irresistibly away. His logic, wit, and sarcasm, his clear voice, flashing eyes, and vigorous power of declamation, used only when the occasion was important, gave him in time almost absolute control in Athens, and had he sought to make himself a despot he might have done so with a word; but happily he was honest and patriotic enough to content himself with being the First Citizen of the State.

To make the people happy, and to keep Athens in a condition of serene content, seem to have been leading aims with Pericles. He entertained them with quickly succeeding theatrical and other entertainments, solemn banquets, splendid shows and processions, and everything likely to add to their enjoyment. Every year he sent out eighty galleys on a six months' cruise, filled with citizens who were to learn the art of maritime war, and who were paid for their services. The citizens were likewise paid for attending the public assembly, and allowances were made them for the time given to theatrical representations, so that it has been said that Pericles converted the sober and thrifty Athenians into an idle, pleasure-loving, and extravagant populace. At the same time, that things might be kept quiet in Athens, the discontented overflow of the people were sent out as colonists, to build up daughter cities of Attica in many distant lands.

Thus it was that Athens developed from the quiet country town of the old régime into the wealthiest, gayest, and most progressive of Grecian cities, the capital of an empire, the centre of a great commerce, and the home of a busy and thronging populace, among whom the ablest artists, poets, and philosophers of that age of the world were included. Here gathered the great writers of tragedy, beginning with Æschylus, whose noble works were performed at the expense of the state in the great open-air theatre of Dionysus. Here the comedians, the chief of whom was Aristophanes, moved hosts of spectators to inextinguishable laughter. Here the choicest lyric poets of Greece awoke admiration with their unequalled songs, at their head the noble Pindar, the laureate of the Olympic and Pythian games. Here the sophists and philosophers argued and lectured, and Socrates walked like a king at the head of the aristocracy of thought. Here the sculptors, headed by Phidias, filled temples, porticos, colonnades, and public places with the most exquisite creations in marble, and the painters with their marvellous reproductions of nature. Here, indeed, seemed gathered all that was best and worthiest in art, entertainment, and thought, and for half a century and more Athens remained a city without a rival in the history of the world.

_THE PLAGUE AT ATHENS._

During the period after the Persian war two great powers arose in Greece, which were destined to come into close and virulent conflict. These were the league of Delos, which developed into the empire of Athens, and the Peloponnesian confederacy, under the leadership of Sparta. The first of these was mainly an island empire, the second a mainland league; the first a group of democratic, the second one of aristocratic, states; the first a power with dominion over the seas, the second a power whose strength lay in its army. Such were the two rival confederacies into which Greece gradually divided, and between which hostile sentiment grew stronger year after year.

It became apparent as the years went on that a struggle was coming for supremacy in Greece. Outbreaks of active hostility between the rival powers from time to time took place. At length the situation grew so strained that a general conflict began, that devastating Peloponnesian war which for nearly thirty years desolated Greece, and which ended in the ruin of Athens, the home of poetry and art, and the supremacy of Sparta, the native school of war. The first great conflict of the Hellenic people, the Persian war, had made Greece powerful and glorious. The second great conflict, the Peloponnesian war, brought Greece to the verge of ruin, and destroyed that Athenian supremacy in which lay the true path of progress for that fair land.

In 431 B.C. the war broke out. Sparta and her allies declared war against Athens on the ground that that city was growing too great and grasping, and an army marched from the Peloponnesus northward to invade the Attic state. Meanwhile the Athenians, under the shrewd advice of Pericles, adopted a wise policy. It was with her fleet that Athens had defeated Persia, and her wise statesman advised that she should devote herself to the dominion of the sea, and leave to Sparta that of the land. Their walls would protect her people, their ships would bring them food from afar, they were not a fair match for Sparta on land, and could safely leave to that city of warriors the temporary dominion of Attic soil.

This advice was taken. When the Spartan army came near Attica all its people left their fields and homes and sought refuge, as once before, within the walls of their capacious capital city. Over the Attic plain marched the invaders, destroying the summer crops, burning the farmers' homesteads, yet recoiling in helpless rage before those strong walls behind which lay the whole population of the state. From the city, as we know, long and high walls stretched away to the sea and invested the seaport town of Piræus, within whose harbor lay the powerful Athenian fleet. And in the treasury of the city rested an abundant supply of money,--the sinews of war,--with whose aid food and supplies could be brought from over the seas. In vain, then, did Sparta ravage the fields of Attica. The people of that desolated realm defied them from behind their city walls.

When winter came the invaders retired and the farmers went back to their fields. In the spring they ploughed and sowed as of yore, and watched in hope the growing crops. But with the summer the Spartans came again, to destroy their hopes of a harvest, and the country people once more fled for safety to their great city's defiant walls.

It was a strange spectacle, that of a powerful invading army wreaking their wrath year after year on deserted fields, and gnashing their teeth in impotent rage before lofty and well-defended walls and ramparts, behind which lay their foes, little the worse for all that their malice could perform.

Athens felt secure, and laughed her enemy to scorn. Unhappily for her, a new enemy was at hand, against whom the mightiest walls were of no avail. Sparta gained an unthought-of ally, and death stalked at large in the Athenian streets, silent and implacable, without clash of weapon or shout of war, yet more fatal and merciless than would have been the strongest army in the field.

Athens was crowded. The country people filled all available space. There was little attention to drainage or sanitary regulations. An open invitation was given to pestilence, and the invited enemy came. For some years before the plague had been at its deadly work in Egypt and Libya, and in parts of Persian Asia. Then it made its appearance in some of the Grecian islands. Finally its wings of destruction were folded over Athens, and it settled down in terrific form upon that devoted city.

The seeds of death found there fertile soil. Families were crowded together in close cabins and temporary shelters, to which they had been driven in multitudes from their ravaged fields. The plague first appeared in mid-April in the Piræus,--brought, perhaps, by merchant-ships,--but soon spread to Athens, and as the heat of summer came on the inhabitants of that thronged city fell victims to it in appalling multitudes.

The plague, they called it. The disease seems to have been something like the small-pox, though not quite the same. Its victims were seized suddenly, suffered the greatest agonies, and most of them died on the seventh or the ninth day. Even when the patients recovered, some had lost their memory, others the use of their eyes, hands, feet, or some other member of the body. No remedy could be found. The physicians died as rapidly as their patients. As for the charms and incantations which many used, we can scarcely imagine that they saved any lives. Some said that their enemies had poisoned the water-cisterns, others that the gods were angry, and vain processions were made to the temples, to implore the mercy of the deities.

When nothing availed to stay the pestilence, Athens fell into deep despondency and despair. The sick lost courage, and lay down inertly to await death. Those who waited on the sick were themselves stricken down, and so great grew the terror that the patients were deserted and left to die alone. Fortunately the disease rarely attacked any one twice, and those who had been sick and recovered became the only nurses of the new victims of the disease.

So dread became the pestilence that the dead and the dying lay everywhere, in houses and streets, and even in the temples; half-dead sufferers gathered around the springs, tortured by violent thirst; the very dogs that meddled with the corpses died of the disease; vultures and other carrion birds avoided the city as if by instinct. Many bodies were burnt or buried with unseemly haste, many doubtless left to fester where they lay. Misery, terror, despair, overwhelmed all within the walls, while the foe without drew back in equal terror, lest the pestilence should leap the walls and assail them in their camps.

Nor have we yet told all. Other evils followed that of the plague. Law was forgotten, morality ignored. Men hesitated not at crime or the indulgence of evil passions, having no fear of punishment. Many gave themselves up to riot and luxurious living, with the hope of snatching an interval of enjoyment before yielding to death. The story we here tell is no new one. It has been realized again and again in the flight of the centuries, when pestilence has made its home in some crowded city. Human nature is everywhere the same, and the bonds of law and morality are loosened when death stalks abroad.

For two years this dread calamity continued to desolate Athens. Then, after a period of a year and a half, it came again, and raged for another year as furiously as before. The losses were frightful. Of the armed men of the state nearly five thousand were swept away. Of the poorer people the loss was beyond computation. Nothing the human enemy was capable of could have done so much to ruin Athens as this frightful visitation, and to the end of the war that city felt its weakening effects.

But perhaps the greatest of the losses of Athens was the death of Pericles. In him Athens lost its wisest man and ablest statesman. The strong hand which had so long held the rudder of the state was gone, and the subsequent misfortunes of Athens were due more to the loss of this wise counsellor than to the efforts of her foes.

_THE ENVOYS OF LIFE AND DEATH._

Near the coast of Asia Minor lies the beautiful island of Lesbos, the birthplace of the poets Sappho, Alcæus, and Terpander, and of other famous writers and sages of the past. Here were green valleys and verdure-clad mountains, here charming rural scenes and richly-yielding fields, here all that seems necessary to make life serene and happy. But here also dwelt uneasy man, and hither came devastating war, bringing with it the shadow of a frightful tragedy from which the people of Lesbos barely escaped.

Lesbos was one of the islands that entered into alliance with Athens, and formed part of the empire that arose from the league of Delos. In 428 B.C. this island, and its capital, Mitylene, revolted from Athens, and struck for the freedom they had formerly enjoyed. Mitylene had never become tributary to Athens. It was simply an ally; and it retained its fleet, its walls, and its government; its only obligations being those common to all members of the League.

Yet even these seemed to have been galling to the proud Mitylenians. Athens was then at war with Sparta. It seemed a good time to throw off all bonds, and the political leaders of the Lesbians declared themselves absolved from all allegiance to the league.

The news greatly disturbed the Athenians. They had their hands full of war. But Mitylene had asked aid from Sparta, and unless brought under subjection to Athens it would become an ally of her enemy. No time was therefore to be lost. A fleet was sent in haste to the revolted city, hoping to take it by surprise. This failing, the city was blockaded by sea and land, and the siege kept up until starvation threatened the people within the walls. Until now hope of Spartan aid had been entertained. But the Spartans came not, the provisions were gone, death or surrender became inevitable, and the city was given up. About a thousand prisoners were sent to Athens, and Mitylene was held till the pleasure of its conquerors should be known.

This pleasure was a tragic one. The Athenians were deeply incensed against Mitylene, and full of thirst for revenge. Their anger was increased by the violent speeches of Cleon, a new political leader who had recently risen from among the ranks of trade, and whose virulent tongue gave him controlling influence over the Athenians at that period of public wrath. When the fate of Mitylene and its people was considered by the Athenian assembly this demagogue took the lead in the discussion, wrought the people up to the most violent passion by his acrimonious tongue, and proposed that the whole male population of the conquered city should be put to death, and the women and children sold as slaves. This frightful sentence was in accord with the feeling of the assembly. They voted death to all Mitylenians old enough to bear arms, and a trireme was sent to Lesbos, bearing orders to the Athenian admiral to carry this tragical decision into effect.

Slaughter like this would to-day expose its authors to the universal execration of mankind. In those days it was not uncommon, and the quality of mercy was sadly wanting in the human heart. Yet such cruelty was hardly in accord with the advanced civilization of Athens, and when the members of the assembly descended to the streets, and their anger somewhat cooled, it began to appear to them that they had sent forth a decree of frightful cruelty. Even the captain and seamen of the trireme that was sent with the order to Mitylene left the port with heavy hearts, and would have gladly welcomed a recall. But the assembly of Athens was the ruling power and from its decision there was no appeal.

Though it was illegal, the friends of Mitylene called a fresh meeting of the assembly for the next day. In this they were supported by the people, whose feeling had quickly and greatly changed. Yet at this new meeting it appeared at first as if Cleon would again win a fatal verdict, so vigorously did he again seek to stir up the public wrath. Diodotus, his opponent, followed with a strong appeal for mercy, and while willing that the leaders of the revolt, who had been sent to Athens, should be put to death, argued strongly in favor of pardoning the rest. When at length the assembly voted, mercy prevailed, but by so small a majority that for a time the decision was in doubt.

And now came a vital question. The trireme bearing the fatal order had left port twenty-four hours before. It was now far at sea, carrying its message of cold-blooded slaughter. Could it possibly be overtaken and the message of mercy made to fly more swiftly across the sea than that of death? As may well be imagined, no time was lost. A second trireme was got ready with all haste, and amply provisioned by the envoys from Mitylene then in Athens, those envoys promising large rewards to the crew if they should arrive in time.

The offers of reward were not needed. The seamen were as eager as those of the former trireme had been despondent. Across the sea rushed the trireme, with such speed as trireme never made before nor since. By good fortune the sea was calm; no storm arose to thwart the rowers' good intent; not for an instant were their oars relaxed; they took turns for short intervals of rest, while barley meal, steeped in wine and oil, was served to them for refreshment upon their seats.

Yet they strove against fearful odds. A start of twenty-four hours, upon so brief a journey, was almost fatal. Fortunately, the rowers of the first trireme had no spirit for their work. They were as slow and dilatory as the others were eager and persistent. And thus time moved slowly on, and the fate of Mitylene hung desperately in the balance. An hour more or less in this vital journey would make or mar a frightful episode in the history of mankind.

Fortune proved to be on the side of mercy. The envoys of life were in time; but barely in time. Those who bore the message of death had reached port and placed their dread order in the hands of the Athenian commander, and he was already taking steps for the fearful massacre, when the second trireme dashed into the waters of that island harbor, and the cheers of exultation of its rowers met the ears of the imperilled populace.

So near was Mitylene to destruction that the breaking of an oar would have been enough to doom six thousand men to death. So near as this was Athens to winning the execration of mankind, by the perpetration of an enormity which barbarians might safely have performed, but for which Athens could never have been forgiven. The thousand prisoners sent to Athens--the leading spirits of the revolt--were, it is true, put to death, but this merciless cruelty, as it would be deemed to-day, has been condoned in view of the far greater slaughter of the innocent from which Athens so narrowly escaped.

_THE DEFENCE OF PLATÆA._

At the foot of Mount Cithæron, one of the most beautiful of the mountains of Greece, winds the small river Asopus, and between, on a slope of the mountain, may to-day be seen the ruins of Platæa, one of the most memorable of the cities of ancient Greece. This city had its day of glory and its day of woe. Here, in the year 479 B.C., was fought that famous battle which drove the Persians forever from Greece. And here Pausanias declared that the territory on which the battle was fought should forever be sacred ground to all of Grecian birth. Forever is seldom a very long period in human history. In this case it lasted just fifty years.

War had broken out between Sparta and its allies and Athens and its dominion, and all Greece was in turmoil. Of the two leading cities of Boeotia, Thebes was an ally of the Lacedæmonians, Platæa of the Athenians. The war broke out by an attack of the Thebans upon Platæa. Two years afterwards, in the year 429 B.C., Archidamus, the Spartan king, led his whole force against this ally of Athens. In his army marched the Thebans, men of a city but two hours' journey from Platæa, and citizens of the same state, yet its bitterest foes. The Platæans were summoned to surrender, to consent to remain neutral, or to leave their city and go where they would; all of which alternatives they declined. Thereupon the Spartan force invested the city, and prepared to take it by dint of arms. And thus Sparta kept the pledge of Platæan sacredness made by her king Pausanias half a century before.