[]THE HISTORY OF GREECE.

CHAP. I. Of the earlieſt State of GREECE.

THE firſt notices we have of every coun⯑try are fabulous and uncertain. Among an unenlightened people every impoſture is likely to take place, for ignorance is the parent of credulity. Nothing therefore which the Greeks have tranſmitted to us concerning their earlieſt ſtate can be relied on. Poets were the firſt who began to record the actions of their coun⯑trymen, and it is a part of their art to ſtrike the imagination even at the expence of proba⯑bility. [2] For this reaſon, in the earlieſt accounts of Greece we are preſented with the machi⯑nations of gods and demigods, the adventures of heroes and giants, the ravages of monſters and dragons, and all the potency of charms and enchantments. Man, plain hiſtorical man, ſeems to have no ſhare in the picture, and while the reader wanders through the moſt de⯑lightful ſcenes the imagination can offer, he is ſcarce once preſented with the actions of ſuch a being as himſelf.

It would be vain therefore, and beſide the preſent purpoſe, to give an hiſtorical air to ac⯑counts which were never meant to be tranſ⯑mitted as true. Some writers indeed have la⯑boriouſly undertaken to ſeparate the truth from the fable, and to give us an unbroken narra⯑tive from the firſt dawning of tradition to the diſplay of undoubted hiſtory; they have le⯑velled down all mythology to their own ap⯑prehenſions, every fable is made to look with an air of probability, inſtead of a golden fleece Jaſon goes in purſuit of a great treaſure; in⯑ſtead of deſtroying a chimera, Bellerophon reclaims a mountain; inſtead of an hydra, Hercules overcomes a robber.

Thus the fanciful pictures of a ſtrong ima⯑gination are taught to aſſume a ſerious ſe⯑verity, [3] and tend to deceive the reader ſtill more by offering in the garb of truth what had been only meant to delight and allure him.

The fabulous age, therefore, of Greece muſt have no place in hiſtory; it is now too late to ſeparate theſe parts which may have a real foundation in nature from thoſe which owe their exiſtence wholly to the imagination. There are no traces left to guide us in that intricate purſuit, the dews of the morning are paſt, and it is vain to attempt continuing the chace in meridian ſplendor. It will be ſuf⯑ficient therefore for us to obſerve, that Greece, like moſt other countries of whoſe origin we have any notice, was at firſt divided into a number of petty ſtates, each commanded by its own ſovereign. Ancient Greece, which is now the ſouth part of Turkey in Europe, was bounded on the eaſt by the Egean ſea, now called the Archipelago; on the ſouth by the Cretan or Candian ſea; on the weſt by the Ionian ſea; and on the north by Illyria and Thrace. Of ſuch very narrow extent, and ſo very contemptible with regard to ter⯑ritory was that country which gave birth to all the arts of war and peace, which pro⯑duced the greateſt generals, philoſophers, poets, painters, architects and ſtatuaries that the [4] world ever boaſted, which overcame the moſt powerful monarchs, and diſperſed the moſt numerous armies that ever were brought into the field, and at laſt became the inſtructor of all mankind.

It is ſaid in ſcripture that Javan, the ſon of Japeth, was the father of all theſe nations that went under the general denomination of Greeks. Of his four ſons, Eliſha, or Ellas is ſaid to have given name to the [...], a ge⯑neral name by which the Greeks were known. Tharſis, the ſecond ſon, is thought to have ſettled in Achaia; Chittim ſettled in Macedo⯑nia; and Dodanim, the fourth, ſon in Theſſaly and Epirus. How they portioned out the country, what revolutions they experienced, or what wars they maintained are utterly un⯑known, and indeed the hiſtory of petty bar⯑barous ſtates, if known, would hardly re⯑compence the trouble of enquiry. In thoſe early times, kingdoms were but inconſider⯑able: a ſingle city with a few leagues of land was often honoured with that magnificent ap⯑pellation; it would therefore embarraſs hiſtory to enter into the domeſtic privacy of every little ſtate, as it would be rather a ſubject for the oeconomiſt than the politician. It will ſuffice to obſerve, that Sicyon is ſaid to be the [5] moſt ancient kingdom of Greece. The begin⯑ing of this petty ſovereignty is placed by hiſto⯑rians in the year of the world one thouſand nine hundred and fifteen, before Jeſus Chriſt two thouſand eighty-nine, and before the firſt Olympiad one thouſand three hundred and thirteen. The firſt king was Aegialeus. Its duration is ſaid to have been a thouſand years.

The kingdom of Argos, in Peloponeſus, be⯑gan a thouſand and eighty years before the firſt Olympiad, in the time of Abraham. A. M. 2148. The firſt king was Inachus.

The kingdom of Mycaenae ſucceeded. The ſeat of government was tranſlated thither from Argos by Perſeus, the grandſon of Acriſius, the laſt king of that country, who Perſeus un⯑fortunately ſlew. The kings who reigned at Mycaenae after Perſeus, were Electryon, Sthe⯑nelus, and Euryſtheus; the latter of whom was driven out by the Heraclidae, or the deſcen⯑dants of Hercules, who made themſelves maſ⯑ters of Peloponneſus.

The kingdom of Athens was firſt founded by Cecrops, an Egyptian. A. M. 2448. This prince hav⯑ing ſettled in Attica, divided the whole country ſubject to him into twelve diſtricts, and alſo eſtabliſhed a court for judging cauſes, entitled [6] the Areopagus. Amphictyon, the third king of Athens, procured a confederacy among the twelve ſtates of Greece, which aſſembled twice a year at Thermopylae, there to offer up common ſacrifices, and to conſult for the common inte⯑reſt of the aſſociation. Theſeus, one of the ſucceeding kings of this ſtate, united the twelve boroughs of Cecrops into one city. Codrus was the laſt of this line who devoted himſelf to death for his people. The Heraclidae having made an irruption as far as the gates of Athens, the oracle declared, that they ſhould be con⯑querors whoſe king ſhould fall in this conteſt. To take the earlieſt advantage, therefore, of this anſwer, Codrus diſguiſed himſelf in the habit of a peaſant, and provoking one of the enemies ſoldiers, was killed by him. Where⯑upon, the Athenians ſent an herald to demand the body of their king, which meſſage ſtruck ſuch a damp into the enemy, that they depart⯑ed without ſtriking another blow. After Cod⯑rus the title of king was extinguiſhed among the Athenians. Medon, his ſon, was ſet at the head of the commonwealth, with the title of Archon, which ſignifies chief governor. The firſt of this denomination had their places for life, but the Athenians growing weary of a go⯑vernment which repreſt their love of freedom, [7] they abridged the terms of the archon's power to ten years, and at laſt made the office elective every year.

The kingdom of Thebes was firſt founded by Cadmus. A. M. 2549. This hero coming by ſea from the coaſt of Phoenicia, ſettled in that part of the country which was afterwards called Baeotia. He there built the city of Thebes, which from his own name he called Cadmaea, and there fixed his ſeat of power and dominion. The adventures of his unhappy poſterity, Laius, Jocaſta, Oedipus, Eteocles, and Polynices, make a ſhining figure among the poetical fictions of that period.

The kingdom of Sparta, or Lacedaemon, is ſuppoſed to be firſt inſtituted by Leliae. He⯑lena, the tenth in ſucceſſion from this monarch, is equally famous for her beauty and infidelity. She had not lived above three years with her huſband, Menelaus, before ſhe was carried off by Paris, the ſon of Priam king of Troy. This ſeems to be the firſt occaſion in which the Greeks united in one common cauſe. The Greeks took Troy after a ten years ſiege, much about the time that Jeptha was the judge in Iſrael.

A. M. 2820. Corinth began later than the other cities above-mentioned to be formed into a ſtate, or [8] to be governed by its kings. It was at firſt ſubject to Argos and Mycaenae, but Siſiphus, the ſon of Aeolus, made himſelf maſter of it; A. M. 2628. and when his deſcendants were diſpoſſeſſed, Bachis aſſumed the reins of power. The government after this became ariſtocratical, a chief magi⯑ſtrate being annually choſen by the name of Prytanni. At laſt Cypſelus having gained the people, uſurped the ſupreme authority, which he tranſmitted to his ſon Periander, who was ranked among the ſeven wiſe men of Greece, from the love he bore to learning, and his en⯑couragement of its profeſſors.

The kingdom of Macedonia was firſt go⯑verned by Caranus, deſcended from Hercules, and ſubſiſted from his time till the defeat of Perſeus by the Romans, a ſpace of ſix hundred and twenty-ſix years.

Such is the picture Greece offers in its earlieſt infancy. A combination of little ſtates, each go⯑verned by its reſpective ſovereign, yet all uniting for their mutual ſafety and general advantage. Still, however, their inteſtine contentions were carried on with great animoſity; and, as it hap⯑pens in all petty ſtates under the dominion of a ſingle commander, the jealouſies of the princes were a continual cauſe of diſcord. From this diſtreſsful ſituation, thoſe ſtates, [9] by degrees, began to emerge: a different ſpirit began to ſeize the people, and, ſick of the contentions of their princes, they deſired to be free. A ſpirit of liberty prevail⯑ed all over Greece, and a general change of government was effected in every part of the country except in Macedonia. Thus monar⯑chy gave way to a republican government, which, however, was diverſified into as many various forms as there were different cities, according to the different genius and peculiar character of each people.

All theſe cities, though ſeemingly diffe⯑rent from each other in their laws and in⯑tereſts, were united with each other by one common language, one religion, and a nation⯑al pride that taught them to conſider all other nations as barbarous and feeble. Even Egypt itſelf, from whence they had derived many of their arts and inſtitutions, was conſidered in a very ſubordinate light, and rather as an half barbarous predeceſſor, than an enlightened rival.

To make this union among the ſtates of Greece ſtill ſtronger, there were games inſti⯑tuted in different parts of the country, with re⯑wards for excellence in every purſuit. Theſe ſports were inſtituted for very ſerious and uſe⯑ful [10] purpoſes; they afforded an opportunity for the ſeveral ſtates meeting together; they gave them a greater zeal for their common religion; they exerciſed the youth for the purpoſes of war, and increaſed that vigour and activity which was then of the utmoſt importance in de⯑ciding the fate of a battle.

But their chief bond of union aroſe from the council of the Amphictyons, which was inſti⯑tuted by Amphictyon, king of Athens, as is al⯑ready mentioned, and was appointed to be held twice a year at Thermopylae, to deliberate for the general good of thoſe ſtates of whoſe deputies it was compoſed. The ſtates who ſent deputies to this council, were twelve, namely, the Theſſalians, the Thebans, the Dorians, the Ionians, the Perhaabeans, the Magnates, the Locrians, the Oetans, the Pthiotes, the Maleans, the Phocians, and the Dolopians. Each of thoſe cities which had a right to aſſiſt at the Amphictyonic council, was obliged to ſend two deputies to every meeting. The one was intitled the Hieromnemon, who took care of the intereſts of religion; the other was called the Pylagoras, and had in charge the civil intereſts of his community. Each of theſe deputies, however, differing in their functions, enjoyed an equal power of determining all af⯑fairs [11] relative to the general intereſts of Greece. But, although the number of deputies ſeems to have been ſettled originally ſo as to anſwer the number of votes which each city was allow⯑ed, yet in proceſs of time, on ſome extraordi⯑nary occaſions, the principal cities aſſumed a power of ſending more than one Pylagoras to aſſiſt in a critical emergency, or to ſerve the purpoſes of a faction. When the deputies, thus appointed, appeared to execute their com⯑miſſion, after offering up ſacrifices to Apollo, Diana, Latona, and Minerva, they took an oath, implying, that they would never ſubvert any city of the Amphictyons, never ſtop the courſe of waters either in war or peace, and that they would oppoſe any attempts to leſſen the reverence and authority of the gods, to whom they had paid their adoration. Thus, all offences againſt religion, all inſtances of impiety and profanation, all conteſts between the Grecian ſtates and cities came under the particular cognizance of the Amphictyons, who had a right to determine, to impoſe fines, and even to levy forces, and to make war againſt thoſe who offered to rebel againſt their ſove⯑reign authority.

Theſe different motives to confederacy unit⯑ed the Greeks for a time into a body of great [12] power, and greater emulation. By this aſſocia⯑tion, a country not half ſo large as England, was able to diſpute the empire of the earth with the moſt powerful monarchs of the world. By this aſſociation, they not only made head againſt the numerous armies of Perſia, but diſ⯑perſed, routed and deſtroyed them, reducing their pride ſo low, as to make them ſubmit to conditions of peace as ſhameful to the con⯑quered as glorious to the conquerors. But among all the cities of Greece, there were two that by their merit, their valour, and their wiſdom, particularly diſtinguiſhed themſelves from the reſt: theſe were Athens and Lace⯑daemon. As theſe cities ſerved as an example of bravery or learning to the reſt, and as the chief burthen of every foreign war devolved upon them, it will be proper to enter into their particular hiſtory with greater minuteneſs, and to give the reader ſome idea of the genius, character, manners, and government of their reſpective inhabitants.

CHAP. II. Of the Government of SPARTA, and the Laws of LYCURGUS.

ALTHOUGH the kingdom of Lacedae⯑mon was not ſo conſiderable as that of Athens, yet as it was of much earlier inſtitution, it de⯑mands our firſt attention. Lacedaemon, as obſerved above, was in the beginning govern⯑ed by kings, of which thirteen held the reins of power in ſucceſſion, of the race of the Pe⯑lopidae. As during this dark interval there were no fixed laws to limit the prerogative, nor no ideas of true government among the people, it does not appear that there were any conſiderable encroachments made either on the ſide of the king or that of the people. Under the race of the Heraclidae, who ſucceeded, in⯑ſtead of one king, the people admitted two, who governed with equal authority. The cauſe of this change ſeems to have ſprung from a very particular accident; for Ariſtodemus dying, left two ſons, Euryſthenes and Procles, twins, ſo much alike, that it was hardly poſſible to diſ⯑tinguiſh [14] them aſunder. From hence the hint was taken by the mother of fixing the crown upon both; ſo that when the Spartans came for a king, ſhe was either unwilling or un⯑able to decide which of them was firſt-born, or which had the juſteſt pretenſions. This form of government continued for ſeveral ſuc⯑ceeding centuries, and though the one was almoſt ever at variance with his aſſociate on the throne, yet the government remained en⯑tire.

It was during this ſucceſſion that ſlavery was firſt inſtituted in Sparta. Eryſthenes and Procles having granted the countrymen of Sparta the ſame privileges with the citizens, Agis reverſed what his predeceſſors had done in favour of the peaſants, and impoſed a tri⯑bute upon them. The Helotes were the only people that would not acquieſce in this im⯑poſt, but roſe in rebellion to vindicate their rights: the citizens however prevailed, the Helotes were ſubdued and made priſoners of war. As a ſtill greater puniſhment, they and their poſterity were condemned to perpetual ſlavery; and, to encreaſe their miſeries ſtill more, all other ſlaves were called by the ge⯑neral name of Helotes.

[15] It would appear from hence that this little ſtate was governed with turbulence and op⯑preſſion, and required the curb of ſevere laws and rigorous diſcipline. Theſe ſeverities and ri⯑gorous diſcipline were at laſt impoſed upon it by Lycurgus, one of the firſt and moſt ex⯑traordinary legiſlators that ever appeared among mankind. There is perhaps nothing more remarkable in prophane hiſtory, yet nothing ſo well atteſted, as what relates to the laws and government of Lycurgus. What indeed can be more amazing than to behold a mutinous and ſavage race of mankind yield⯑ing ſubmiſſion to laws that controuled every ſenſual pleaſure and every private affection; to behold them give up, for the good of the ſtate, all the comforts and conveniencies of private life, and making a ſtate of domeſtic privacy more ſevere and terrible than the moſt painful campaigns and the moſt warlike du⯑ties. Yet all this was effected by the perſe⯑verance and authority of a ſingle legiſlator, who gave the firſt leſſons of hard reſignation in his own generous example.

Lycurgus was the ſon of Eunomus, one of the two kings who reigned together in Sparta. The two kings dying without apparent iſſue, the right of ſucceſſion reſted in Lycurgus, [16] who accordingly took the adminiſtration upon him. But an unexpected event came to in⯑terrupt his promotion; for the queen his ſiſter-in-law proving with child, his right became doubtful. A man of leſs probity would have uſed every precaution to ſecure himſelf upon the throne, and a propoſal which was made him by the queen ſeemed to ſecure his pre⯑tenſions. She offered to deſtroy the birth, upon condition that he would marry her, and take her into a ſhare of power. Lycurgus wiſely ſmothered his reſentment at ſo unnatural a propoſal, and fearful that ſhe might uſe means to put her project in execution, aſſured her that as ſoon as the child was born he would take upon himſelf to remove it out of the way. Accordingly ſhe was delivered of a boy, which Lycurgus commanded ſhould be brought to him, as he was at ſupper with the magiſtrates; to them he preſented the child as their king, and to teſtify his own and the people's joy, gave him the name of Charilaus. Thus Lycurgus ſacrificed his ambition to his duty; and ſtill more, continued his regency, not as king but governor. However, dread⯑ing the reſentment of the queen, and finding the ſtate in great diſorder, he reſolved by travelling to avoid the dangers of the one, [17] and to procure a remedy for the defects of the other.

Thus reſolving to make himſelf acquainted with all the improvements of other nations, and to conſult the moſt experienced perſons he could meet with in the art of government, he began with the iſland of Crete, whoſe hard and ſevere laws were very much admired. In this iſland the handicraft trades were brought to ſome degree of perfection. There they wrought in copper and iron, and made ar⯑mour, in which they danced with a confuſed noiſe of bells at the ſacrifices of their gods. It was from them that the art of navigation was firſt known in Greece, and from them many legiſlators derived the principles of their reſpective inſtitutions.

From Crete Lycurgus paſſed over into Aſia, where he ſtill found new information, and is ſaid to have firſt made the diſcovery of the works of Homer. From thence he went into Egypt, and is ſaid by ſome to have had con⯑ſerences with the gymnoſophiſts of India. But whilſt thus employed abroad, his preſence be⯑gan to be greatly wanted at home. All par⯑ties conſpired to wiſh his coming, and many meſſages were ſent to haſten his return. The kings themſelves importuned him to that effect, [18] and let him know, that the people were arriv⯑ed at ſuch a pitch of diſorder that nothing but his authority could controul their licentiouſneſs. In fact, every thing tended to the unavoidable deſtruction of the ſtate, and nothing but his preſence was wiſhed to check its encreaſing diſ⯑ſolution.

Lycurgus, at length perſuaded to return, found the people wearied out with their own importunities, and ready to receive any new impreſſions he might attempt. Wherefore the corruption being general, he found it neceſſary to change the whole form of the government; ſenſible that a few particular laws would pro⯑duce no great effect. But conſidering the ef⯑ficacy of religion in promoting every new inſti⯑tution, he went firſt to conſult the oracle of Apollo at Delphos, where he met a reception that might flatter his higheſt ambition, for he was ſaluted by the prieſtleſs as a friend of the gods, and rather as a god than man. As to his new inſtitution alſo, he was told that the gods heard his prayers, and that the common⯑wealth he was going to eſtabliſh would be the moſt excellent and durable upon earth.

Thus encouraged, on his return to Sparta, Lycurgus firſt communicated his deſigns to his particular friends, and then by degrees gain⯑ed [19] over the leading men to his party, until things being ripe for a change, he ordered thirty of the principal men to appear armed in the market-place. Charilaus, who was at that time king, ſeemed at firſt willing to oppoſe this revolution, but being intimidated by a ſu⯑perlor force, he took ſhelter in the temple of Minerva; where, being prevailed upon by his ſubjects, and being alſo of a flexible temper, he came forth and joined the confederacy. The people ſoon acquieſced under a ſet of inſti⯑tutions which were evidently calulated for their improvement, and gladly acknowledged ſubmiſſion to laws which leaned with equal weight upon every rank of ſociety.

To continue the KINGS ſtill with a ſhadow of power, he confirmed them in their right of ſucceſſion as before, but diminiſhed their autho⯑rity by inſtituting a ſenate, which was to ſerve as a counterpoiſe between the prerogative and the people. They ſtill, however, had all their former marks of outward dignity and reſpect. They had the chief ſeats in every public aſſem⯑bly; in voting they were allowed firſt to give their opinion; they received ambaſſadors and ſtrangers, and overlooked public buildings and highways. In the field they were poſſeſſ⯑ed of greater power, they conducted the armies [20] of the ſtate, and were attended by judges, field-deputies, and a general of the horſe. However, they were not entirely at liberty even in war, as they received their orders from the ſenate, which, though for the moſt part diſcretionary, yet they were ſometimes forced to march againſt the enemy, or to return home when they leaſt deſired to retreat.

The government hitherto had been un⯑ſteady, tending at one time time towards deſpo⯑tiſm, at another to democracy, but the SENATE inſtituted by Lycurgus ſerved as a check upon both, and kept the ſtate balanced in tranquility. This body, which was compoſed of twenty-eight members, founded their chief policy in ſiding with the kings when the people were graſping at too much power; and, on the other hand, in eſpouſing the intereſts of the people whenever the kings attempted to carry their authority too far. The ſenators, who were compoſed of thoſe who aſſiſted Lycurgus in his deſigns, as well as of ſeveral of the ci⯑tizens remarkable for their private virtues, but none were eligible till ſixty years of age. They were continued for life, except upon any noto⯑rious crime; and this, as it prevented the in⯑conveniencies of too frequent a change, ſo it was a laſting reward to the old, and a noble [21] incentive to the young. Theſe formed the ſupreme court of judicature; and though there lay an appeal from them to the people, yet as they were only convened at the pleaſure of the ſenate, and as the ſenators were not reſponſible for any wrong judgment, their decrees general⯑ly paſt without a repeal. Indeed, for ſeveral ages, ſuch was the caution, and ſuch the in⯑tegrity of this tribunal, that none ſeemed de⯑ſirous of ſeeking farther juſtice, and both par⯑ties acquieſced in the juſtice of their decree. However, the great power which the ſenate was thus poſſeſſed of, was about a century after tempered by the erection of a ſuperior court, called the court of the EPHORI, which conſiſted of but five in number, and the members were choſen annually into their oſfice. They were elected from the people, and had a power of ar⯑reſting and impriſoning even the perſons of their kings, if they acted unbecoming their ſtation.

The PEOPLE alſo had a nominal ſhare in the government. They had their aſſemblies con⯑ſiſting of citizens only, and alſo their great con⯑vention of all perſons who were free of the ſtate. But this power of convening was but a mere mat⯑ter of form, as the ſenate alone was permitted to call them together, and as it was in the option of that body to diſmiſs them at pleaſure. The [22] ſubject of deliberation alſo was to be of their propoſal, while the people, denied the privilege of debating or diſcuſſing, could only reject or ratify with laconic deciſion. To keep them ſtill more helpleſs, they were left out of all of⯑fices of the ſtate, and were conſidered merely as machines, which their wiſer fellow-citizens were to conduct and employ.

So ſmall a degree of power granted to the people might be apt to deſtroy theſe inſtitutions in their infancy, but to reconcile them to the change, Lycurgus boldly reſolved to give them a ſhare in thoſe lands from whence, by the encreaſing riches of ſome, and the diſſipa⯑tion of others, they had been deprived. To keep the people in plenty and dependence, ſeems to have been one of the moſt refined ſtrokes in this philoſopher's legiſlation. The generality or the people were at that time ſo poor, that they were deſtitute of every kind of poſſeſſion, whilſt a ſmall number of indivi⯑duals were poſſeſſed of all the lands and the wealth of the country. In order, therefore, to baniſh the inſolence, the ſraud, and the luxury of the one, as well as the miſery, the repining, and the factious deſpair of the others, he perſuaded the majority, and forced the reſt to give up all their lands to the commonwealth, [23] and to make a new diviſion of them that they might all live together in perfect equality. Thus all the ſenſual goods of life were equally diſtributed among the governors and the go⯑verned, and ſuperior merit alone conferred ſu⯑perior diſtinction.

Lycurgus accordingly divided all the lands of Laconia into thirty thouſand parts, and thoſe of Sparta into nine thouſand, and theſe he portioned out to the reſpective inhabitants of each diſtrict. Each portion was ſufficient to maintain a family in that frugal manner he pro⯑poſed; and, though the kings had a larger ſhare aſſigned them to ſupport their dignity, yet their tables had rather an air of decency and competency, than of ſuperfluity or pro⯑fuſion. It is ſaid that ſome years after, as Ly⯑curgus was returning from a long journey, ob⯑ſerving how equally the corn was divided in all parts of the country, he was heard to ob⯑ſerve ſmiling on thoſe next him, ‘Does not La⯑conia look like an eſtate which ſeveral brothers have been dividing amongſt them?’

But it would have anſwered no permanent purpoſe to divide the lands, if the money were ſtill ſuffered to accumulate. To prevent, therefore, all other diſtinction but that of me⯑rit, he reſolved to level down all fortune to [24] one ſtandard. He did not indeed ſtrip thoſe poſſeſſed of gold or ſilver of their property; but, what was equivalent, he cried down its value, and ſuffered nothing but iron money to paſs in exchange for every commodity. This coin alſo he made ſo heavy, and fixed at ſo low a rate, that a cart and two oxen were re⯑quired to carry home a ſum of ten minas, or about twenty pounds Engliſh, and a whole houſe was neceſſary to keep it in. This iron money had no currency among any other of the Grecian ſtates, who, ſo far from eſteeming it, treated it with the utmoſt contempt and ridi⯑cule. From the neglect of foreigners, the Spartans themſelves began to deſpiſe it ſo, that money was at laſt brought into diſuſe, and few troubled themſelves with more than was barely ſufficient to ſupply their neceſſities. Thus not only riches, but their attendant train of avarice, fraud, rapine, and luxury, were baniſhed from this ſimple ſtate, and the people found in ignorance of riches a happy ſubſtitute for the want of thoſe refinements they be⯑ſtow.

But theſe inſtitutions were not thought ſuf⯑ficient to prevent that tendency which man⯑kind have to private exceſs. A third regula⯑tion was therefore made, commanding that all [25] meals ſhould be in public. He ordained that all the men ſhould eat in one common hall without diſtinction; and leſt ſtrangers ſhould attempt to corrupt his citizens by their ex⯑ample, a law was expreſsly made againſt their continuance in the city. By theſe means fru⯑gality was not only made neceſſary, but the uſe of riches was at once aboliſhed. Every man ſent monthly his proviſions to the com⯑mon ſtock, with a little money for other con⯑tingent expences. Theſe conſiſted of one bu⯑ſhel of flour, eight meaſures of wine, five pounds of cheeſe, and two pounds and an half of figs. The tables conſiſted of fifteen perſons each, where none could be admitted but by the conſent of the whole company. Every one without exception of perſons was obliged to be at the common meal; and a long time af⯑ter, when Agis returned from a ſucceſsful ex⯑pedition, he was puniſhed and reprimanded for having eaten with his queen in private. The very children eat at theſe meals, and were car⯑ried thither as to a ſchool of temperance and wiſdom. At theſe homely repaſts no rude or immoral converſation was permitted, no lo⯑quacious diſputes or oſtentatious talking. Each endeavoured to expreſs his ſentiments with the utmoſt perſpicuity and conciſeneſs; wit was [26] admitted to ſeaſon the banquet, and ſe⯑crecy to give it ſecurity. As ſoon as a young man came into the room, the oldeſt man in the company uſed to ſay to him, point⯑ing to the door, ‘Nothing ſpoken here muſt go that way.’ Black broth was their favourite diſh, of what ingredients it was made is now known, but they uſed no fleſh in their entertainments; it probably reſembled thoſe lenten ſoups which are ſtill in uſe on the con⯑tinent. Dionyſius, the tyrant, found their fare very unpalatable; but, as the cook aſſerted, the broth was nothing without the ſeaſoning of fa⯑tigue and hunger.

An injunction ſo rigorous, which thus cut off all the delicacies and refinements of luxury, was by no means pleaſing to the rich, who took every occaſion to inſult the lawgiver upon his new regulations. The tumults it excited were frequent; and in one of theſe, a young fellow whoſe name was Alexander, ſtruck out one of Lycurgus's eyes. But he had the ma⯑jority of the people on his ſide, who, provok⯑ed at the outrage, delivered the young man in⯑to his hands to treat him with all proper ſe⯑verity. Lycurgus, inſtead of teſtifying any brutal reſentment, won over his aggreſſor by all the arts of affability and tenderneſs, till, at [27] laſt, from being one of the proudeſt and moſt turbulent men of Sparta, he became an ex⯑ample of wiſdom and moderation, and an uſe⯑ful aſſiſtant to Lycurgus in promoting his new inſtitutions.

Thus, undaunted by oppoſition, and ſteady in his deſigns, he went on to make a thorough reformation in the manners of his countrymen. As the education of youth was one of the moſt important objects of a legiſlator's care, he took care to inſtil ſuch early principles, that children ſhould in a manner be born with a ſenſe of or⯑der and diſcipline. His grand principle was, that children were properly the poſſeſſion of the ſtate, and belonged to the community more than to their parents. To this end he began from the very time of their conception, making it the mother's duty to uſe ſuch diet and exerciſe as might fit her to produce a vigo⯑rous and healthy offspring. As during this pe⯑riod, all inſtitutions were tinctured with the ſavageneſs of the times, it is not wonderful that Lycurgus ordained that all ſuch children as, upon a public view, were deemed deformed or weakly, and unfitted for a future life of vi⯑gour and fatigue, ſhould be expoſed to periſh in a cavern near mount Taygetus. This was conſidered as a public puniſhment upon the [28] mother, and it was thought the readieſt way to lighten the ſtate of a future encumbrance.

Thoſe infants that were born without any ca⯑pital defects were adopted as children of the ſtate, and delivered to their parents to be nurſ⯑ed with ſeverity and hardſhip. From their tendereſt age they were accuſtomed to make no choice in their eating, not to be afraid in the dark, or when left alone, not to be peeviſh or fretful, to walk barefoot, to lie hard at nights, to wear the ſame cloaths winter and ſummer, and to fear nothing from their equals. At the age of ſeven years they were taken from their parents, and delivered over to the claſſes for a public education. Their diſcipline there was little elſe than an apprenticeſhip to hard⯑ſhip, ſelf-denial, and obedience. In theſe claſſes one of the boys more advanced and ex⯑perienced than the reſt, preſided as captain to govern and chaſtiſe the refractory. Their very ſports and exerciſes were regulated according to the exacteſt diſcipline, and made up of labour and fatigue. They went barefoot, with their heads ſhaved, and fought with one another naked. While they were at table it was uſual for the maſters to inſtruct the boys, by aſking them queſtions concerning the nature of moral actions, or the different merits of the moſt not⯑ed [29] men of the time. The boys were obliged to give a quick and ready anſwer, which was to be accompanied with his reaſons in the con⯑ciſeſt manner, for a Spartan's language was as ſparing as his money was ponderous and bulky. All oſtentatious learning was baniſhed from this ſimple commonwealth, their only ſtudy was to obey, their only pride was to ſuffer hardſhip. Every art was practiſed to harden them againſt adventitious danger. There was yearly a cuſtom of whipping them at the altar of Diana, and the boy that bore this puniſh⯑ment with the greateſt fortitude came off victo⯑rious. This was inflicted publicly before the eyes of their parents, and in the preſence of the whole city; and many were known to ex⯑pire under the ſeverity of the diſcipline without uttering a ſingle groan. Even their own fa⯑thers, when they ſaw them covered with blood and wounds, and ready to expire, exhorted them to perſevere to the end with conſtancy and reſolution. Plutarch, who ſays that he has ſeen ſeveral children expire under this cruel treatment, tells us of one who having ſtolen a fox, and hid it under his coat, choſe rather to let it tear out his very bowels than diſcover the theft.

Every inſtitution ſeemed tending to harden the body and ſharpen the mind for war. In [30] order to prepare them for ſtratagems and ſud⯑den incurſions, the boys were permitted to ſteal from each other, but if they were caught in the fact, they were puniſhed for their want of dexterity. Such a permiſſion, therefore, was little better than a prohibition of theft, ſince the puniſhment followed, as at preſent, in caſe of detection. In fact, by this inſtitution, negligence in the poſſeſſor was made juſtly liable to the loſs of his poſſeſſions, a conſide⯑ration which has not been ſufficiently attended to by ſubſequent legiſlators.

At twelve years old the boys were removed into other claſs of a more advanced kind. There, in order to cruſh the ſeeds of vice, which at that time began to appear, their labour and diſcipline were encreaſed with their age. There they had their inſtructor from among the men called Paedonomus, and under him the Irens, young men ſelected from their own body, to exerciſe a more conſtant and imme⯑diate command over them. They had now their ſkirmiſhes between parties, and their mock fights between larger bodies. In theſe they often fought with hands, feet, teeth, and nails, with ſuch obſtinacy that it was common to ſee them looſe their eyes, and often their lives before the fray was determined. Such was the conſtant [31] diſcipline of their minority, which laſted till the age of thirty, before which they were not permitted to marry, to go into the troops, or to bear any office in the ſtate.

With regard to the virgins, their diſcipline was equally ſtrict with the former. They were inured to a conſtant courſe of labour and induſtry until they were twenty years old, be⯑fore which time they were not allowed to be marriageable. They alſo had their peculiar exerciſes. They ran, wreſtled, pitched the bar, and performed all theſe feats naked before the whole body of the citizens. Yet this was thought no way indecent, as it was ſuppoſed that the frequent view of the perſon would rather check than excite every looſer appetite. An education ſo manlike did not fail to pro⯑duce in the Spartan women correſponding ſen⯑timents. They were bold, frugal, and pa⯑triotic, filled with a ſenſe of honour, and a love of military glory. Some foreign women in converſation with the wife of Leonidas ſay⯑ing, that the Spartan women alone knew how to govern the men, ſhe boldly replied, the Spartan women alone bring forth men. A mother was known to give her ſon, who was going to battle, his ſhield, with this remarkable advice; ‘Return with it, or return upon it.’ Im⯑plying, [32] that rather than throw it from him in flight, he ſhould be borne upon it dead to his friends in Sparta. Another hearing that her ſon was killed fighting for his country, ſhe anſwered without any emotion, it was for that I brought him into the world. After the battle of Leuctra, the parents of thoſe who died in the action, went to the temples to thank the gods that their ſons had done their duty, while thoſe whoſe children ſurvived that dreadful day ſeem⯑ed inconſoleable.

Yet it muſt not be concealed, that in a city where the women were inſpired with ſuch a paſſion for military glory, they were not equal⯑ly remarkable for connubial fidelity. In fact, there was no law againſt adultery, and an ex⯑change of huſbands was often actually practiſed among them. This was always indeed by the mutual conſent of parties, which removed the tedious ceremonies of a divorce. One reaſon aſſigned for allowing this mutual liberty, was not ſo much to gratify licentious deſire, as to improve the breed of citizens, by matching ſuch as were poſſeſſed of mutual inclination. In fact, in many of the laws of Lycurgus he ſeems to admit, that private vices may become public benefits, and this among the number.

[33] Beſides theſe conſtitutional reſolutions, there were many other general maxims laid down that obtained the force of laws among them. They were forbid to exerciſe any mechanic art. The chief occupation of the Spartans was bodily exerciſes or hunting. The Helotes who had loſt their liberty ſome centuries be⯑fore, and who had been condemned to per⯑petual ſlavery, tilled their lands for them, receiving for their labour a bare ſubſiſtence. The citizens thus poſſeſſed of competence and leiſure, were moſtly in company in their large common halls, where they met and converſed together. They paſſed little of their time alone, being accuſtomed to live like bees, always together, always attentive to their chiefs and leaders. The love of their country and the public good was their predominant paſ⯑ſion, and all ſelf-intereſt was loſt in the gene⯑ral wiſh for the welfare of the community. Pedarctus having miſſed the honour of being choſen one of the three hundred who had a certain rank in the city, converted his diſap⯑pointment into joy, ‘that there were three hun⯑dred better men in Sparta than he.’

Among the maxims of this legiſlator, it was forbidden them to make frequent war upon the ſame enemies. By this inhibition they were [34] reſtrained from laſting and immoderate re⯑ſentment, they were in no danger of teaching their diſcipline to thoſe they made war upon, and all their alliances were thus more frequent⯑ly renewed.

Whenever they had broken and routed their enemies, they never purſued them farther than was neceſſary to make themſelves ſure of the victory. They thought it ſufficiently glo⯑rious to overcome, and were aſhamed of de⯑ſtroying an enemy that yielded or fled. Nor was this without anſwering ſome good pur⯑poſes; for the enemy, conſcious that all who re⯑ſiſted were put to the ſword, often fled, as they were convinced that ſuch a conduct was the ſureſt means of obtaining ſafety. Thus valour and generoſity ſeemed the ruling motives of this new inſtitution; arms were their only exerciſe and employment, and their life was much leſs auſtere in the camp than the city. The Spartans were the only people in the world to whom the time of war was a time of eaſe and refreſhment, becauſe then the ſeverity of their manners was relaxed, and the men were indulged in greater liberties. With them the firſt and moſt inviolable law of war was never to turn their backs on the enemy, however diſproportioned in forces, nor to de⯑liver [35] up their arms until they reſigned them with life. When the poet Archilochus came to Sparta, he was obliged to quit the city for having aſſerted in one of his poems that it was better for a man to loſe his arms than his life. Thus reſolved upon conqueſt or death, they went calmly forward with all the confidence of ſucceſs, ſure of meeting a glorious victory, or what they valued equally, a noble death.

Thus depending upon their valour alone for ſafety, their legiſlator forbid walling the city. It was his maxim that a wall of men was pre⯑ferable to a wall of brick, and that confined valour was ſcarce preferable to cowardice. Indeed a city, in which were thirty thouſand fighting men, ſtood in little need of walls to pro⯑tect it; and we have ſcarce an inſtance in hiſ⯑tory of their ſuffering themſelves to be driven to their laſt retreats. War and its honours was their employment and ambition; their Helotes, or ſlaves, tilled their grounds, and did all their ſervile drudgery. Theſe unhappy men were in a manner bound to the ſoil, it was not lawful to ſell them to ſtrangers, or to make them free. If at any time their increaſe be⯑came inconvenient, or created a ſuſpicion in their fierce maſters, there was a cryptia, or ſe⯑cret act, by which they were permitted to de⯑ſtory [36] them. From this barbarous ſeverity, however, Lycurgus is aquitted by Plutarch, but it is plain, that his inſtitutions were not ſufficient to reſtrain the people from ſuch baſe⯑neſs and cruelty. It was by this act allowed for ſeveral companies of young men to go out of the city by day, and concealing themſelves in the thickets, to ruſh out in the night upon their ſlaves, and kill all they could find in their way. Thucydides relates, that two thouſand of theſe ſlaves diſappeared at once without ever after being heard of. It is truly amazing, how a people like the Spartans, renowned for lenity to the conquered, for ſubmiſſion to their ſu⯑periors, for reverence to old age, and friend⯑ſhip for each other, ſhould yet be ſo very bru⯑tal to thoſe beneath them; to men that ought to be conſidered in every reſpect as their equals, as their countrymen, and only degraded by an unjuſt uſurpation. Yet nothing is more certain than their cruel treatment; they were not only condemned to the moſt ſervile occu⯑pations, but often deſtroyed without reaſon. They were frequently made drunk and expoſed before the children, in order to deter them from ſo brutal a ſpecies of debauchery.

Such was the general purport of the inſtitu⯑tions of Lycurgus, which from their tendency [37] gained the eſteem and admiration of all the ſurrounding nations. The Greeks were ever apt to be dazzled rather with ſplendid than uſe⯑ful virtues, and praiſed the laws of Lycurgus, which at beſt were calculated rather to make men warlike than happy, and to ſubſtitute in⯑ſenſibility to enjoyment. If conſidered in a political light, the city of Lacedaemon was but a military garriſon, ſupported by the la⯑bour of a numerous peaſantry that were ſlaves. The laws, therefore, by which they were go⯑verned, are not much more rigorous than many of the military inſtitutions of modern princes, the ſame labour, the ſame diſcipline, the ſame poverty, and the ſame ſubordination, is found in many of the garriſoned towns of Europe that prevailed for ſo many centuries in Sparta. The only difference that appears to me between a ſoldier of Lacedaemon, and a ſoldier in garriſon at Gravelin, is, that the one was permitted to marry at thirty, and the other is obliged to continue ſingle all his life; the one lives in the midſt of a civilized country, which he is ſuppoſed to protect, the other liv⯑ed in the midſt of a number of civilized ſtates, which he had no inclination to offend. War is equally the trade of both, and a campaign is frequently a relaxation from the more rigorous conſinement of garriſon duty.

[38] When Lycurgus had thus completed his military inſtitution, and when the form of go⯑vernment he had eſtabliſhed ſeemed ſtrong and vigorous enough to ſupport itſelf, his next care was to give it all the permanence in his power. He, therefore, ſignified to the people that ſomething ſtill remained for the comple⯑tion of his plan, and that he was under a ne⯑ceſſity of going to conſult the oracle at Delphos for its advice. In the mean time, he perſuad⯑ed them to take an oath for the ſtrict obſervance of all his laws till his return, and then depart⯑ed with a full reſolution of never ſeeing Sparta more. When he was arrived at Delphos, he conſulted the oracle to know whether the laws he had made were ſufficient to render the La⯑cedaemonians happy; and being anſwered that nothing was wanting to their perfection, he ſent this anſwer to Sparta, and then voluntari⯑ly ſtarved himſelf to death. Others ſay, that he died in Crete, ordering his body to be burnt, and his aſhes to be thrown into the ſea. The death of this great lawgiver gave a ſanc⯑tion and authority to his laws which his life was unable to confer. The Spartans regarded his end as the moſt glorious of all his actions, and a noble finiſhing of all his former ſervices; they conſidered themſelves as bound by every tie of gratitude and religion to a ſtrict obſerv⯑ance [39] of all his inſtitutions; and the long continuance of the Spartan government is a proof of their perſevering reſolution.

The city of Lacedaemon thus inſtituted, ſeem⯑ed only deſirous of an opportunity of diſplay⯑ing the ſuperiority of their power among the neighbouring ſtates, their rivals. The war between them and the Meſſenians ſoon taught them to know the advantages of their military inſtitution; but as I am haſtening to more im⯑portant events, I will touch upon this as con⯑ciſely as I can. There was a temple of Diana common to the Meſſenians and Lacedaemonians, ſtanding upon the borders of either kingdom. It was there that the Meſſenians were accuſed of attempting the chaſtity of ſome Spartan virgins, and of killing Teleclus, one of the Spartan kings, who interpoſed in their defence. The Meſſenians, on the other hand, denied the charge, and averred, that theſe ſuppoſed vir⯑gins were young men thus dreſſed up with daggers under their cloaths, and placed there by Teleclus with an intent to ſurpriſe them. To the mutual reſentment occaſioned by this, another cauſe of animoſity was ſoon after added: Polychares, a Meſſenian, who had won the prize in the Olympic games, let out ſome cows to paſture to Euphaenus, a Lacedae⯑monian, [40] who was to pay himſelf for their keep⯑ing with a ſhare of the increaſe. Euphaenus ſold the cows, and pretended they were ſtolen from him. Polychares ſent his ſon to demand the money; but the Lacedaemonian, to aggra⯑vate his crime, killed the young man, and perſuaded his countrymen to give no redreſs. Polychares, therefore, undertook to do him⯑ſelf juſtice, and killed all the Lacedaemonians that came in his way. Expoſtulations paſſed between both kingdoms, till at laſt the affair came to a general war, which was carried on for many years with doubtful ſucceſs. In this ſituation the Meſſenians ſent to conſult the oracle of Delphos, who required the ſacrifice of a virgin of the family of Aepytus. Upon caſting lots among the deſcendants of this prince, the chance fell upon the daughter of Lyciſcus, but being thought to be ſuppoſiti⯑tious, Ariſtodemus offered his daughter, whom all allowed to be his own. Her lover, how⯑ever, attempted to avert the blow, by aſſert⯑ing, that ſhe was with child by him, but her father was ſo enraged, that he ripped up her belly with his own hand publicly to vindicate her innocence. The enthuſiaſm which this ſa⯑crifice produced, ſerved for a while to give the Meſſenians the advantage, but being at laſt [41] overthrown and beſieged in the city of Ithoe, Ariſtodemus finding all things deſperate, ſlew himſelf upon his daughter's grave. A. M. 3280. With him fell the kingdom of Meſſenia, not without a moſt obſtinate reſiſtance, and many a defeat of the Spartan army, which they held thus engaged for above twenty years. Nor muſt we omit one memorable tranſaction of the Lacedaemonians during this war: having drained their city of all its male inhabitants, and obliged them⯑ſelves by oath not to return until their deſigns were accompliſhed; their women, in the mean time, remonſtrated, that from their long ab⯑ſence all poſterity would be at an end To re⯑medy this inconvenience, they detached fifty of their moſt promiſing young men from the army to go to Sparta, and to lie promiſcuouſly with all the young women they fancied. The offspring of theſe virgins were from them call⯑ed Partheniae, who finding themſelves con⯑temned and ſlighted by the Spartans on their return, joined ſome years after in an inſurrec⯑tion with the Helotes, but were ſoon ſuppreſſ⯑ed. Being expelled the ſtate, they went under the conduct of their captain, Philantus, and ſet⯑tled at Tarentum, in Italy.

After a rigorous ſubjection of thirty-nine years, the Meſſenians once more made a vigo⯑rous [42] ſtruggle for freedom, being headed by Ariſtomenes, a young man of great courage and capacity. A. M. 3319. The ſucceſs of the firſt engage⯑ment was doubtful, and the Lacedaemonians being adviſed by the oracle to ſend for a gene⯑ral from among the Athenians, this politic ſtate ſent them Tyrtaeus, a poet and ſchoolmaſter, whoſe chief buſineſs was to harrangue and re⯑peat his own verſes. The Spartans were little pleaſed with their new leader, but their vene⯑ration for the oracle kept them obedient to his commands. Their ſucceſs, however, did not ſeem to improve with their duty; they ſuffer⯑ed a defeat from Ariſtomenes, who, loſing his ſhield in the purſuit, their total overthrow was prevented. A ſecond and a third defeat fol⯑lowed ſoon after; ſo that the Lacedaemonians, quite diſpirited, had thoughts of concluding a peace upon any terms. But Tyrtaeus ſo en⯑flamed them by his orations and ſongs in praiſe of military glory, that they reſolved upon an⯑other battle, in which they were victorious, and ſoon after Ariſtomenes was taken priſoner in a ſkirmiſh, with fifty of his followers.

The adventures of this hero deſerve our no⯑tice. Being carried priſoner to Sparta, he was thrown into a deep dungeon which had been uſed for the execution of malefactors, [43] and his fifty ſoldiers with him. They were all killed by the fall except Ariſtomenes, who finding a wild beaſt at the bottom preying up⯑on a carcaſs, ſecuring the animal's mouth, he continued to hold by the tail, until the beaſt made directly to its hole. There finding the iſſue too narrow, he was obliged to let go his hold, but following the track with his eye, he perceived a glimmering from above, and at length wrought his way out. After this extra⯑ordinary eſcape, he repaired immediately to his troops, and at their head made a ſucceſs⯑ful ſally, by night, againſt the Corinthian forces. Nevertheleſs he was once more ſhortly after taken by ſome Cretans; but his keepers being made drunk, he ſtabbed them with their own daggers, and returned to his forces. But his ſingle valour was not ſufficient to avert the ruin of his country; although, with his own ſingle proweſs, he had thrice earned the Heca⯑tomphonia, a ſacrifice due to thoſe who had killed one hundred of the enemy hand to hand in battle, yet the body of his forces being ſmall, and fatigued with continual duty, the city of Eira, which he defended, was taken, and the Meſſenians were obliged to take re⯑fuge with Anaxilas, a prince of Sicily. A. M. 3340. As for Tyrtaeus, the Lacedaemonians made him [44] free of their city, which was the higheſt honour they had in their power to beſtow. By the acceſſion of the Meſſenian country to the territory of Sparta, this ſtate became one of the moſt powerful of all Greece, and was ſecond only to Athens, which ſtate it always conſidered with an eye of jealouſy.

CHAP. III. Of the Government of ATHENS, the Laws of SOLON, and the Hiſtory of the Republic from the Time of SOLON to the commencement of the PERSIAN War.

WE now return to Athens. Codrus, the laſt king of this ſtate, having devot⯑ed himſelf for the good of his country, a magiſtrate, under the title of Archon, was appointed to ſucceed him. The firſt who bore this office was Medon, the ſon of the late king, who, being oppoſed by his brother Nileus, was preferred by the oracle, and ac⯑cordingly inveſted with his new dignity. This magiſtracy was at firſt for life; it was ſoon after reduced to a period of ten years, and at laſt became annual, and in this ſtate it con⯑tinued for near three hundred years. Dur⯑ing this inactive government little offers to [45] adorn the page of hiſtory, the ſpirit of exten⯑ſive dominion had not as yet entered into Greece, and the citizens were too much em⯑ployed in their private intrigues to attend to foreign concerns. Athens therefore continued a long time incapable of enlarging her power, content with ſafety amidſt the contending in⯑tereſts of aſpiring potentates and factious ci⯑tizens.

A deſire of being governed by written laws at laſt made way for a new change in govern⯑ment. A. M 3380. For more than a century they had ſeen the good effects of laws in the regulation of the Spartan commonwealth; and, as they were a more enlightened people, they expected greater advantages from a new inſtitution. In the choice, therefore, of a legiſlator, they pitch⯑ed upon Draco, a man of acknowledged wiſ⯑dom, and unſhaken integrity, but rigid even beyond human ſufferance. It does not ap⯑pear that any ſtate of Greece was poſſeſſed of written laws before his time. However, he was not afraid to enact the moſt ſevere laws, which laid the ſame penalties on the moſt atro⯑cious and the moſt trifling offences. Theſe laws, which puniſhed all crimes with death, and which were ſaid not to be written with ink, but with blood, were too cruel to be duly and [46] juſtly adminiſtered. Sentiments of humanity in the judges, compaſſion for the accuſed when his fault was not equal to his ſuffering, the unwillingneſs of witneſſes to exact too cruel an atonement, their fears alſo of the reſent⯑ment of the people; all theſe conſpired to ren⯑der the laws obſolete before they could well be put into execution. Thus, the new laws counteracted their own purpoſes, and their exceſſive rigour paved the way for the moſt dangerous impunity.

It was in this diſtreſsful ſtate of the com⯑monwealth, that Solon was applied to for his advice and aſſiſtance, as the wiſeſt and the juſteſt man of all Athens. His great learn⯑ing had acquired him the reputation of being the firſt of the ſeven wiſe men of Greece, and his known humanity procured him the love and veneration of every rank among his fel⯑low-citizens. Solon was a native of Salamis, an iſland dependent on Athens, but which had revolted to put itſelf under the power of the Megareans. In attempting to recover this iſland, the Athenians had ſpent much blood and treaſure, until at laſt wearied out with ſuch ill ſucceſs, a law was made rendering it capital ever to adviſe the recovery of their loſt poſſeſſion. Solon, however, undertook to per⯑ſuade [47] them to another trial, and feigning himſelf mad, ran about the ſtreets, uſing the moſt violent geſtures and language; but the purport of all was, upbraiding the Athenians for their remiſſneſs and effeminacy, in giving up their conqueſts in deſpair. In ſhort, he acted his part ſo well, by the oddity of his man⯑ner, and the ſtrength of his reaſoning, that the people reſolved upon another expedition againſt Salamis; and, by a ſtratagem of his contrivance, in which he introduced ſeveral young men upon the iſland in women's cloaths, the place was ſurpriſed, and added to the do⯑minion of Athens.

But this was not the only occaſion on which he exhibited ſuperior addreſs and wiſdom. At a time when Greece had carried the arts of eloquence, poetry, and government, higher than they had yet been ſeen among mankind, Solon was conſidered as one of the foremoſt in each perfection. The ſages of Greece, whoſe fame is ſtill undiminiſhed, acknow⯑ledged his merit, and adopted him as their aſ⯑ſociate. The correſpondence between theſe wiſe men was at once inſtructive, friendly, and ſincere. They were ſeven in number, namely, Thales the Mileſian, Solon of Athens, Chilo of Lacedaemon, Pittacus of Mitylene, Peri⯑ander [48] of Corinth, Bias and Cleobulus, whoſe birth places are not aſcertained. Thoſe ſages often viſited each other, and their converſa⯑tions generally turned upon the methods of inſtituting the beſt form of government, or the arts of private happineſs. One day when So⯑lon went to Miletos to ſee Thales, the firſt thing he ſaid, was to expreſs his ſurprize that Thales had never deſired to marry, or have children. Thales made him no anſwer then, but a few days after, he contrived that a ſtran⯑ger, ſuppoſed to arrive from Athens, ſhould join their company. Solon, hearing from whence the ſtranger came, was inquiſitive af⯑ter the news of his own city, but was only in⯑formed that a young man died there, for whom the whole place was in the greateſt af⯑fliction, as he was reputed the moſt promiſing youth in all Athens. Alas! cried Solon, how much is the poor father of the youth to be pitied! pray, what was his name? I heard the name, replied the ſtranger, who was in⯑ſtructed for the occaſion, but I have forgot it: I only remember that all people talked much of his wiſdom and juſtice. Every anſwer af⯑forded new matter of trouble and terror to the inquiſitive father, and he had juſt ſtrength enough to aſk if the youth was not the ſon of [49] Solon? The very ſame, replied the ſtranger; at which words Solon ſhewed all the marks of the moſt inconſoleable diſtreſs. This was the opportunity which Thales wanted, who took him by the hand, and ſaid to him, with a ſmile, Comfort yourſelf my friend, all that has been told you is a mere fiction, but may ſerve as a very proper anſwer to your queſtion, why I never thought proper to marry?

One day at the court of Periander of Corinth, a queſtion was propoſed, which was the moſt perfect popular government? That, ſaid Bias, where the law has no ſuperior. That, ſaid Thales, where the inhabitants are neither too rich nor too poor. That, ſaid Anacharſis, the Scythian, where virtue is honoured and vice deteſted. That, ſaid Pittacus, where dignities are always conferred upon the virtuous, and never upon the baſe. That, ſaid Cleobulus, where the citizens fear blame more than puniſhment. That, ſaid Chilo, where the laws are more regarded than the orators. But Solon's opinion ſeems to have the greateſt weight, who ſaid, where an injury done to the meaneſt ſubject is an inſult upon the whole conſtitution.

Upon a certain occaſion, when Solon was converſing with Anacharſis, the Scythian phi⯑loſopher, about his intended reformations in [50] the ſtate; ‘"Alas, cried the Scythian, all your laws will be found to reſemble ſpiders webs; the weak and ſmall flies will be caught and entangled, but the great and powerful will always have ſtrength enough to break through."’

Solon's interview with Craeſus king of Ly⯑dia, is ſtill more celebrated. This monarch, who was reputed the richeſt of all Aſia Minor, was willing to make an oſlentatious diſplay of his wealth before the Greek philoſopher, and after ſhewing him immenſe heaps of treaſure, and the greateſt variety of other ornaments, he demanded whether he did not think the poſ⯑ſeſſor the moſt happy of all mankind. No, replied Solon; I know one man more happy, a poor peaſant of Greece, who neither in afflu⯑ence or poverty, has but few wants, and has learned to ſupply them by his labour. This anſwer was by no means agreeable to the vain monarch, who by his queſtion only hoped for a reply that would tend to flatter his pride. Willing, therefore, to extort one ſtill more favourable, he aſked whether at leaſt he did not think him happy. Alas, cried Solon what man can be pronounced happy before he dies. The integrity and the wiſdom of So⯑lon's replies appeared in the event. The [51] kingdom of Lydia was invaded by Cyrus, the empire deſtroyed, and Craeſus himſelf was taken priſoner. When he was led out to exe⯑cution, according to the barbarous manners of the times, he then too late recollected the maxims of Solon, and could not help crying out when on the ſcaffold upon Solon's name: Cyrus hearing him repeat the name with great earneſtneſs, was deſirous of knowing the rea⯑ſon; and being informed by Craeſus of that philoſopher's remarkable obſervation, he be⯑gan to fear for himſelf, pardoned Craeſus, and took him for the future into confidence and friendſhip. Thus Solon had the merit of ſaving one king's life, and of reforming an⯑other.

Such was the man to whom the Athenians applied for aſſiſtance in reforming the ſeverity of their government, and inſtituting a juſt body of laws. Athens was at that time divided in⯑to as many factions as there were different ſorts of inhabitants in Attica. Thoſe that lived up⯑on the mountains were fond of exact equality, thoſe that lived in the low country were for the dominion of a few, and thoſe that dwelt on the ſea coaſts, and were conſequently addicted to commerce, were for keeping thoſe parties to exactly balanced, as to permit neither to [52] prevail. But, beſides theſe, there was a fourth party, and that by much the moſt numerous, conſiſting wholly of the poor, who were griev⯑ouſly harraſſed and oppreſſed by the rich, and loaded with debts which they were not able to diſcharge. This unhappy party, which, when they know their own ſtrength, muſt ever pre⯑vail, were now determined to throw off the yoke of their oppreſſors, and to chuſe them⯑ſelves a chief who ſhould make a reformation in government, by making a new diviſion of lands.

As Solon had never ſided with either, he was regarded as the refuge of all, the rich lik⯑ing him becauſe he was rich, and the poor be⯑cauſe he was honeſt. Though he was at firſt unwilling to undertake ſo dangerous an em⯑ployment, he at laſt ſuffered himſelf to be choſen archon, and to be conſtituted ſupreme legiſlator with the unanimous conſent of all. This was a ſituation in which nothing could be added to his power, yet many of the citizens adviſed him to make himſelf king, but he had too much wiſdom to ſeek after a name which would render him obnoxious to many of his fellow-citizens, while he was in fact poſſeſſed of more than regal authority. ‘A tyranny, he would ſay, reſembles a fair garden, it is a beautiful [53] ſpot while we are within, but it wants a way to get out at.’

Rejecting, therefore, the wiſh of royalty, he reſolved upon ſettling a form of government that ſhould be founded on the baſis of juſt and reaſonable liberty. Not venturing to meddle with certain diſorders which he looked upon as incurable, he undertook to bring about no other alterations but ſuch as were apparently reaſonable to the meaneſt capacity. In ſhort, it was his aim to give the Athenians not the beſt of poſſible conſtitutions, but the very beſt they were capable of receiving. His firſt at⯑tempt was, therefore, in favour of the poor, whoſe debts he aboliſhed at once, by an ex⯑preſs law of inſolvency. But to do this with the leaſt injury he could to the creditor, he raiſed the value of money in a moderate pro⯑portion, by which he nominally encreaſed their riches. But his management on this oc⯑caſion had like to have had very dangerous con⯑ſequences, for ſome of his friends, to whom the ſcheme had been previouſly communicated, took up vaſt ſums of money while it was low, in order to be poſſeſſed of the difference when it became of greater value. Solon himſelf was ſuſpected of having a hand in this fraud, but to wipe off all ſuſpicion, he remitted his debtors [54] five, or, as others ſay, fifteen talents, and thus regained the confidence of the peo⯑ple.

His next ſtep was to repeal all the laws enacted by Draco, except thoſe againſt mur⯑der. He then proceeded to the regulation of offices, employments, and magiſtracies, all which he left in the hands of the rich. He diſtributed the rich citizens into three claſſes, ranging them according to their incomes. Thoſe that were found to have five hundred meaſures yearly, as well in corn as in liquids, were placed in the firſt rank, thoſe that had three hundred were placed in the ſecond, and thoſe that had but two hundred made up the third. All the reſt of the citizens whoſe in⯑come fell ſhort of two hundred meaſures, were compriſed in a fourth and laſt claſs, and were conſidered as unqualified for any employment whatever. But to compenſate for this exclu⯑ſion, he gave every private citizen a privilege of voting in the great aſſembly of the whole body of the ſtate. This, indeed, at firſt might appear a conceſſion of ſmall conſequence, but it was ſoon found to contain very ſolid advan⯑tages. For, by the laws of Athens, it was permitted, after the determination of the ma⯑giſtrates, to appeal to the general aſſembly of [55] the people, and thus, in time, all cauſes of weight and moment came before them.

In ſome meaſure to counteract the influence of a popular aſſembly, he gave greater weight to the court of Areopagus, and alſo inſtitut⯑ed another council conſiſting of four hundred. The Areopagus, ſo called from the place where the court was held, had been eſtabliſh⯑ed ſome centuries before, but Solon reſtored and augmented its authority. To this court was committed the care of cauſing the laws to be obſerved and put in execution. Before his time the citizens of the greateſt probity and juſtice were made judges of that tribunal. So⯑lon was the firſt who thought it convenient that none ſhould be honoured with that digni⯑ty but ſuch as had paſſed through the office of archon. Nothing was ſo auguſt as this court, and its reputation for judgment and integrity became ſo very great, that the Romans ſome⯑times referred cauſes which were too intricate for their own deciſion, to the determination of this tribunal. Nothing was regarded here but truth; that no external objects might pervert juſtice, the tribunal was held in darkneſs, and the advocates were denied all attempts to work upon the paſſions of the judges. Superior to this, Solon inſtituted the great council of four [56] hundred, who were to judge upon appeals from the Areopagus, and maturely to exa⯑mine every queſtion before it came to be de⯑bated in a general aſſembly of the people.

Such was the reformation in the general in⯑ſtitutions for the good of the ſtate, his parti⯑cular laws for diſpenſing juſtice were more nu⯑merous. In the firſt place, all perſons who in public diſſenſions and differences eſpouſed neither party, but continued to act with a blameable neutrality, were declared infamous, condemned to perpetual puniſhment, and to have all their eſtates confiſcated. Nothing could more induce mankind to a ſpirit of pa⯑triotiſm than this celebrated law. A mind thus obliged to take part in public concerns, learns, from habit, to make thoſe concerns its principal care, and ſelf-intereſt quickly ſinks before them. By this method of accuſtoming the minds of the people to look upon that man as an enemy that ſhould appear indifferent and unconcerned in the misfortunes of the public, he provided the ſtate with a quick and general reſource in every dangerous emer⯑gency.

He next permitted every particular per⯑ſon to eſpouſe the quarrel of any one that was injured or inſulted. By this means, every per⯑ſon [57] in the ſtate became the enemy of him who did wrong, and the turbulent thus were over⯑powered by the number of their opponents.

He aboliſhed the cuſtom of giving portions in marriage with young women, unleſs they were only daughters. The bride was to carry no other fortune to her huſband than three ſuits of cloaths, and ſome houſhold goods of little value. It was his aim to prevent mak⯑ing matrimony a traffic, he conſidered it as an honourable connexion, calculated for the mu⯑tual happineſs of both parties, and the general advantage of the ſtate.

Before this lawgiver's time the Athenians were not allowed to make their wills, but the wealth of the deceaſed naturally, and of courſe, devolved upon his children. Solon allowed every one that was childleſs to diſpoſe of his whole eſtate as he thought fit, preferring by that means friendſhip to kindred, and choice to neceſſity and conſtraint. From this inſtitu⯑tion the bond between the parents and chil⯑dren became more ſolid and firm, it confirm⯑ed the juſt authority of the one, and encreaſed the neceſſary dependence of the other.

He made a regulation to leſſen the rewards to the victors at the Olympic and Iſthmian games. He conſidered it as unjuſt, that a ſet [58] of idle people, generally uſeleſs, often danger⯑ous to the ſtate, ſhould be allotted thoſe re⯑wards which ſhould go to the deſerving. He wiſhed to ſee thoſe emoluments go to the wi⯑dows and families of ſuch as fell in the ſer⯑vice of their country, and to make the ſtipend of the ſtate honourable, by being conferred only on the brave.

To encourage induſtry, the Areopagus was charged with the care of examining into every man's method of living, and of chaſtiſing all who led an idle life. The unemployed were conſidered as a ſet of dangerous and turbulent ſpirits, eager after innovation, and hoping to mend their fortunes from the plunder of the ſtate. To diſcountenance all idleneſs, there⯑fore, a ſon was not obliged to ſupport his fa⯑ther in old age or neceſſity, if the latter had neglected giving him ſome trade or occupa⯑tion. All illegitimate children were alſo ex⯑empted from the ſame duty, as they owed little to their parents except an indelible re⯑proach.

It was forbidden to give ill language in public; the magiſtrates who were not eligible till thirty were to be particularly circumſpect in their behaviour, and it was even death for an archon to be taken drunk. It is obſervable [59] that he made no law againſt parricide, as ſup⯑poſing it a crime that could never exiſt in any community.

With regard to women, he permitted any man to kill an adulterer if he was taken in the fact. He allowed of public brothels, but pro⯑hibited mercenary proſtitutes from keeping company with modeſt women, and as a badge of diſtinction to wear flowered garments. The men alſo who were notorious for frequenting their company were not allowed to ſpeak in public, and he who forced a woman incurred a very heavy fine.

Theſe were the chief inſtitutions of this ce⯑lebrated lawgiver, and although neither ſo ſtriking, nor yet ſo well authoriſed as thoſe of Lycurgus, they did not fail to operate for ſeveral ſucceeding ages, and ſeemed to gather ſtrength by obſervance. After he had framed theſe inſtitutes, his next care was to give them ſuch notoriety that none could plead ignorance. To this end tranſcripts of them were publicly hung up in the city for every one to peruſe, while a ſet of magiſtrates named Theſmothetae, were appointed to reviſe them carefully, and diſtinctly repeat them once a year. Then, in order to perpetuate his ſta⯑tutes, he engaged the people by a public oath [60] to obſerve them religiouſly, at leaſt for the term of an hundred years; and thus having completed the taſk aſſigned him, he with⯑drew from the city to avoid the importunity of ſome, and the captious petulance of others. For, as he well knew, it was hard, if not im⯑poſſible, to pleaſe all.

Solon being thus employed on his travels in viſiting Egypt, Lydia, and ſeveral other countries, left Athens to become habituated to his new inſtitutions, and to try by experi⯑ence the wiſdom of their formation. But it was not eaſy for a city long torn by civil diſſen⯑ſions to yield implicit obedience to any laws, how wiſely ſoever framed; their former ani⯑moſities began to revive when that authority was removed which alone could hold them in ſubjection. The factions of the ſtate were headed by three different leaders, who en⯑flamed the animoſity of the people againſt each other, hoping by the ſubverſion of all or⯑der, to indulge their own private hopes of aſpiring. A perſon named Lycurgus was at the head of the people that inhabited the low country, Piſiſtratus declared for thoſe who lived in the mountains, and Megacles was the leader of the inhabitants upon the ſea coaſt.

[61] Piſiſtratus was of theſe the moſt powerful. He was a well bred man, of a gentle and in⯑ſinuating behaviour, ready to ſuccour and aſ⯑ſiſt the poor, whoſe cauſe he pretended to eſpouſe. He was wiſe, and moderate to his enemies, a moſt artful and accompliſhed diſ⯑ſembler, and was every way virtuous except in his inordinate ambition. His ambition gave him the appearance of poſſeſſing qualities which he really wanted, he ſeemed the moſt zealous champion for equality among the citizens, while he was actually aiming at the entire ſubverſion of freedom, and he declared loudly againſt all innovations, while he was actually meditating a change. The giddy multitude caught by theſe appearances were zealous in ſeconding his views, and without examining his motives were driving headlong to tyranny and deſtruction.

It was juſt at the eve of ſucceſs, and upon the point of being indulged in his utmoſt am⯑bition, that Piſiſtratus had the mortification of ſeeing Solon return after an abſence of ten years, apprized of his deſigns, and willing to ſubvert his ſchemes. Senſible, therefore, of his danger, and conſcious of the penetration of this great lawgiver, the aſpiring demagogue uſed all his artifice to conceal his real deſigns, [62] and while he flattered him in public, uſed eve⯑ry endeavour to bring over the people to ſe⯑cond his intereſts. Solon at firſt endeavoured to oppoſe art to his cunning, and to foil him at his own weapons. He praiſed him in his turn, and was heard to declare, what might have been true, that excepting the immoderate am⯑bition of Piſiſtratus, he knew no man of greater, or more exalted virtues. Still, however, he ſet himſelf to counteract his projects, and to defeat his deſigns before they were ripe for execution.

But in a vicious commonwealth, no aſſiduity can warn, no wiſdom protect. Piſiſtratus ſtill urged his ſchemes with unabating ardour, and every day made new proſelytes by his profeſ⯑ſions and his liberalities. At length, finding his ſchemes ripe for open action, he gave him⯑ſelf ſeveral wounds, and in that condition, with his body all bloody, he cauſed himſelf to be carried in his chariot to the market-place, where, by his complaints and eloquence, he ſo enſlamed the populace, that they conſidered him as the victim of their cauſe, and as ſuffer⯑ing ſuch cruel treatment in their defence. An aſſembly of the people was, therefore, imme⯑diately convened, from whom he demanded a guard of fifty perſons for his future ſecurity. [63] It was in vain that Solon uſed all his authority and eloquence to oppoſe ſo dangerous a requeſt. He conſidered his ſufferings as merely coun⯑terfeited. He compared him to Ulyſſes in Homer, who cut himſelf with ſimilar deſigns; but he alledged that he did not act the part right, for the deſign of Ulyſſes was to deceive his enemies, but that of Piſiſtratus was level⯑ed againſt his friends and ſupporters. He up⯑braided the people with their ſtupidity, telling them, that for his own part he had ſenſe enough to ſee through this deſign, but they only had ſtrength enough to oppoſe it. His exhortations, however, were vain, the party of Piſiſtratus prevailed, and a guard of fifty men was appointed to attend him. This was all that he aimed at, for now having the protec⯑tion of ſo many creatures of his own, nothing remained but inſenſibly to encreaſe their num⯑ber. Thus every day his hirelings were ſeen to augment, while the ſilent fears of the citi⯑zens encreaſed in equal proportion. But it was now too late, for having raiſed the number to put him beyond the danger of a repuiſe, he at length ſeized upon the citadel, while none was left who had courage or conduct to oppoſe.

In this general conſternation, which was the reſult of folly on the one hand, and treachery [64] on the other, the whole city was one ſcene of tumult and diſorder, ſome flying, others inly complaining, others preparing for ſlavery with patient ſubmiſſion. Solon was the only man who, without fear or ſhrinking, deplored the folly of the times, and reproached the Athe⯑nians with their cowardice and treachery. You might, ſaid he, with eaſe have cruſhed the tyrant in the bud, but nothing now remains but to pluck him up by the roots. As for himſelf, he had at leaſt the ſatisfaction of hav⯑ing diſcharged his duty to his country and the laws; and, as for the reſt, he had nothing to fear, and now upon the deſtruction of his country, his only confidence was in his great age, which gave him hopes of not being a long ſurvivor. In fact, he did not ſur⯑vive the liberty of his country above two years; he died at Cyprus in the eightieth year of his age, lamented and admired by every ſtate of Greece. Beſides his ſkill in le⯑giſlation, Solon was remarkable for ſeveral other ſhining qualifications. He underſtood eloquence in ſo high a degree, that from him Cicero dates the origin of eloquence in Athens. He was ſucceſsful alſo in poetry, and Plato aſſerts, that it was only for want of due application that he did not come [65] to diſpute the prize with Homer him⯑ſelf.

The death of Solon only ſerved to involve Athens in new troubles and commotions. Ly⯑curgus and Megacles, the leaders of the two oppoſite factions, uniting, drove Piſiſtratus out of the city, but he was ſoon after recalled by Megacles, who gave him his daughter in marriage. New diſturbances aroſe; Piſiſtratus was twice depoſed, and twice found means to reinſtate himſelf, for he had art to acquire power, and moderation to maintain it. The mildneſs of his government, and his implicit ſubmiſſion to the laws, made the people forget the means by which he acquired his power; and, caught by his lenity, they overlooked his uſurpation. His gardens and pleaſure grounds were free to all the citizens; and he is ſaid to be the firſt who opened a public library at Athens. Cicero is of opinion, that Piſiſtratus firſt made the Athenians acquainted with the books of Homer, that he diſpoſed them in the order in which they now remain, and firſt cauſed them to be read at the feaſts called Pa⯑nathanea. His juſtice is not leſs remarkable than his politeneſs. Being accuſed of murder, though it was in the time of his tyranny, he diſdained to take the advantage of his autho⯑rity, [66] but went in perſon to plead his cauſe before the Areopagus, where his accuſer would not venture to appear. In ſhort, he was maſter of many excellent qualities, and perverted them no farther than as they ſtood in competition with empire. Nothing could be objected to him but his having greater power than the laws, and by not exerting that power he al⯑moſt reconciled the citizens to royalty. Upon theſe accounts he was deſervedly oppofed to uſurpers of fewer virtues, and there feemed ſuch a reſemblance between him and a more ſucceſsful invader of his country's freedom, that Julius Caeſar was called the Piſiſtratus of Rome.

Piſiſtratus dying in tranquillity, tranſmitted the ſovereign power to his ſons, Hippias and Hipparchus, who ſeemed to inherit all their father's virtues. A paſſion for learning and its profeſſors, had for ſome time prevailed in Athens; and this city, which had already far out-gone all its cotemporaries in all the arts of refinement, ſeemed to ſubmit tamely to kings, who made learning their pride and their pro⯑feſſion. Anacreon, Simonides, and others, were invited to their courts, and richly reward⯑ed. Schools were inſtituted for the improve⯑ment of youth in the learned profeſſions, and [67] Mercuries were ſet up in all the highways, with moral ſentences written upon them, for the in⯑ſtruction of the loweſt vulgar. Their reign, however, laſted but eighteen years, and ended upon the following occaſion.

Harmodius and Ariſtogiton, both citizens of Athens, had contracted a very ſtrict friend⯑ſhip for each other, and reſolved to revenge the injuries which ſhould be committed againſt either with common reſentment. Hipparchus being naturally amorous, debauched the ſiſter of Harmodius, and afterwards publiſhed her ſhame as ſhe was about to walk in one of the ſacred proceſſions, alledging, that ſhe was not in a condition to aſſiſt at the ceremony. Such a complicated indignity naturally excited the reſentment of the two friends, who formed a fixed reſolution of deſtroying the tyrants, or falling in the attempt. Willing, however, to wait the moſt favourable opportunity, they de⯑ferred their purpoſe to the feaſt of the Pana⯑thanea, in which the ceremony required that all the citizens ſhould attend in armour. For their greater ſecurity, they admitted only a ſmall number of their friends into the ſecret of their deſign, conceiving that upon the firſt com⯑motion they ſhould not want for abettors. Thus reſolved, the day being come, they went early [68] into the market-place, each armed with his dagger, and ſteadfaſt to his purpoſe. In the mean time, Hippias was ſeen iſſuing with his followers from the palace, to give orders with⯑out the city to the guards for the intended ceremony. As the two friends continued to follow him at a little diſtance, they perceived one of thoſe to whom they had communicated their deſign, talking very familiarly with him, which made them apprehend their plot was betrayed. Eager, therefore, to execute their deſign, they were preparing to ſtrike the blow, but recollected that the real aggreſſor would thus go unpuniſhed. They once more, there⯑fore, returned into the city, willing to begin their vengeance upon the author of their in⯑dignities. They were not long in queſt of Hip⯑parchus, they met him upon their return, and ruſhing upon him, diſpatched him with their daggers without delay, but were ſoon after themſelves ſlain in the tumult. Hippias hear⯑ing of what was done, to prevent farther diſ⯑orders, got all theſe diſarmed whom he in the leaſt ſuſpected of being privy to the deſign, and then meditated revenge.

Among the friends of the late aſſertors of freedom, was one Leona, a courtezan, who by the charms of her beauty, and her ſkill in [69] playing on the harp, had captivated ſome of the conſpirators, and was ſuppoſed to be deep⯑ly engaged in the deſign. As the tyrant, for ſuch the late attempt had rendered him, was conſcious that nothing was concealed from this woman, he ordered her to be put to the torture, in order to extort the names of accomplices. But ſhe bore all the cruelty of their torments with invincible conſtancy; and leſt ſhe ſhould in the agony of pain be induced to a confeſſion, ſhe bit off her own tongue and ſpit it in the ty⯑rant's face. In this manner ſhe died faithful to the cauſe of liberty, ſhewing the world a remarkable example of conſtancy in her ſex. The Athenians would not ſuffer the memory of ſo heroic an action to paſs into oblivion. They erected a ſtatue to her memory, in which a lioneſs was repreſented without a tongue.

In the mean time, Hippias put no bounds to his indignation. A rebellious people ever makes a ſuſpicious tyrant. Numbers of citi⯑zens were put to death; and to guard himſelf for the future againſt a like enterprize, he en⯑deavoured to eſtabliſh his power by foreign alliances. He gave his daughter in marriage to the ſon of the tyrant of Lampſacus, he cul⯑tivated a correſpondence with Artaphanes, go⯑vernor [70] of Sardis, and endeavoured to gain the friendſhip of the Lacedaemonians, who were at that time the moſt powerful people of Greece.

But he was ſupplanted in thoſe very alliances from which he hoped the greateſt aſſiſtance. The family of the Alcmaeonidae, who from the beginning of the revolution had been baniſhed from Athens, endeavoured to undermine his intereſts at Sparta, and they at length ſucceed⯑ed. Being poſſeſſed of great riches, and alſo very liberal in their diſtribution, among other public ſervices, they obtained liberty to rebuild the temple at Delphos, which they fronted in a moſt magnificence manner with Parian marble. So noble a munificence was not without a proper acknowledgement of gratitude from the prieſteſs of Apollo, who, willing to oblige them, made her oracle the echo of their de⯑ſires. As there was nothing, therefore, which this family ſo ardently deſired as the downfall of regal power in Athens, the prieſteſs ſecond⯑ed their intentions, and whenever the Spartans came to conſult the oracle, no promiſe was ever made of the god's aſſiſtance, but upon con⯑dition that Athens ſhould be ſet free. This order was ſo often repeated by the oracle, that the Spartans at laſt reſolved to obey. Their [71] firſt attempts were, however, unſucceſsful; the troops they ſent againſt the tyrant were repulſed with loſs. A ſecond effort ſucceeded. Athens was beſieged, and the children of Hippias were made priſoners as they were ſecretly conveying to a place of ſafety out of the city. To redeem theſe from ſlavery, the father was obliged to come to an accommodation, by which he con⯑ſented to give up his pretenſions to the ſove⯑reign power, and to depart out of the Athenian territories in the ſpace of five days. Thus, Athens was once more ſet free from its tyrants, and obtained its liberty the very ſame year that the kings were expelled from Rome. A. M. 3496 The fa⯑mily of Alcmaeon were chiefly inſtrumental, but the people ſeemed fonder of acknowledg⯑ing their obligations to the two friends who ſtruck the firſt blow. The names of Harmo⯑dius and Ariſtogiton were held in the higheſt reſpect in all ſucceeding ages, and ſcarce conſi⯑dered inferior even to the gods themſelves. Their ſtatues were erected in the market-place, an honour which had never been rendered to any before; and, gazing upon theſe, the people caught a love for freedom, and a deteſtation for tyranny, which neither time nor terrors could ever after remove.

CHAP. IV. A ſhort Survey of the State of GREECE previous to the PERSIAN War.

HITHERTO we have ſeen the ſtates of Greece in conſtant fluctuation, different ſtates riſing, and others diſappearing, one petty peo⯑ple oppoſed to another, and both ſwallowed up by a third. Every city emerging from the ancient form of government which was origi⯑nally impoſed upon it, and by degrees acquir⯑ing greater freedom. We have ſeen the intro⯑duction of written laws, and the benefits they produced by giving ſtability to government.

During theſe ſtruggles for power among their neighbouring ſtates, and for freedom at home, the moral ſciences, the arts of eloquence, poetry, arms, were making a rapid progreſs among them, and thoſe inſtitutions which they originally borrowed from the Egyptians, were every day receiving ſignal improvements. As Greece was now compoſed of ſeveral ſmall re⯑publics bordering upon each other, and dif⯑fering in their laws, characters, and cuſtoms, [73] this was a continual ſource of emulation, and every city was not only deſirous of warlike ſu⯑periority, but alſo of excelling in all the arts of peace and refinement. Hence they were always under arms, and continually exerciſed in war, while their philoſophers and poets tra⯑velled from city to city, and by their exhorta⯑tions and ſongs, warmed them with a love of virtue, and with an ardour for military glory. Theſe peaceful and military accompliſhments raiſed them to their higheſt pitch of grandeur, and they now only wanted an enemy worthy of their arms to ſhew the world their ſuperiority. The Perſian monarchy, the greateſt at that time in the world, ſoon offered itſelf as their oppon⯑ent, and the conteſt ended with its total ſub⯑verſion.

But as Greece was continually changing not only its government, but its cuſtoms, as in one century it preſented a very different pic⯑ture from what it offered in the preceding, it will be neceſſary to take a ſecond view of this confederacy of little republics previous to their conteſts with Perſia, as by comparing their ſtrength with that of their opponent, we ſhall find how much wiſdom, diſcipline, and va⯑lour, are ſuperior to numbers, wealth, and oſtentation.

[74] Foremoſt in this confederacy we may rec⯑kon the city of Athens, commanding the little ſtate of Attica, their whole dominions ſcarce ex⯑ceeding the largeſt of our Engliſh counties in cir⯑cumference. But what was wanting in extent was made up by the citizens being inured to war, and impreſſed with the higheſt ideas of their own ſuperiority. Their orators, their philoſophers, and their poets, had already given leſſons of politeneſs to mankind; and their generals, though engaged only in petty conflicts with their neighbours, had begun to practiſe new ſtratagems in war. There were three kinds of inhabitants in Athens; citizens, ſtrangers, and ſervants. Their number uſual⯑ly amounted to twenty-one thouſand citizens, ten thouſand ſtrangers, and from forty to threeſcore thouſand ſervants.

A citizen could only be ſuch by birth, or adoption. To be a natural denizen of Athens, it was neceſſary to be born of a father and mo⯑ther both Athenians, and both free. The people could confer the freedom of the city upon ſtrangers, and thoſe whom they had ſo adopted, enjoyed almoſt the ſame rights and privileges as the natural citizens. The quality of citizen of Athens was ſometimes granted in honour and gratitude to thoſe who merited [75] well of the ſtate, as to Hippocrates the phyſician; and even kings ſometimes canvaſſed that title for themſelves and their children. When the young men attained the age of twenty, they were enrolled upon the liſt of citizens, after having taken an oath, and in virtue of this they be⯑came members of the ſtate.

Strangers, or foreigners, who came to ſettle at Athens for the ſake of commerce, or of ex⯑erciſing any trade, had no ſhare in govern⯑ment, nor votes in the aſſemblies of the people. They put themſelves under the protection of ſome citizen, and upon that account were obliged to render him certain duties and ſer⯑vices. They paid a yearly tribute to the ſtate of twelve drachmas, and in default of pay⯑ment were made ſlaves, and expoſed to ſale.

Of ſervants, there were ſome free, and others ſlaves, who had been taken in war, or bought of ſuch as trafficked in them. The Athenians were as remarkable for their lenity to theſe un⯑happy men, as the Spartans were noted for their fierceneſs and rigidity. There was even an aſylum for ſlaves, where the bones of The⯑ſeus had been interred; and that aſylum ſub⯑ſiſted for near two thouſand years. When ſlaves were treated with too much rigour and inhumanity, they might bring their maſters to [76] juſtice; who, if the fact were ſufficiently prov⯑ed, were obliged to ſell them to another maſ⯑ter. They could even ranſom themſelves againſt their maſter's conſent, when they had laid up money enough for that purpoſe, for out of what they got by their labour, after having paid a certain proportion to their maſ⯑ters, they kept the remainder for themſelves, and made a ſtock of it at their own diſpoſal. Private perſons when they were ſatisfied with their ſervices, often gave them their liberty; and when the neceſſity of the times obliged the ſtate to make their greateſt levies, they were enrolled among the troops, and from thence were ever after free.

The revenues of this city, according to Ari⯑ſtophanes, amounted to two thouſand talents, or about three hundred thouſand pounds of our money. They were generally gathered from the taxes upon agriculture, the ſale of woods, the produce of mines, the contribu⯑tions paid them by their allies, a capitulation levied upon the inhabitants of the country, as well natives as ſtrangers, and from fines laid upon different miſdemeanors. The applica⯑tion of theſe revenues was in paying the troops, both by land and ſea, building and fitting out ſleets, keeping up and repairing public build⯑ings, [77] temples, walls, ports, and citadels. But in the decline of the republic, the greateſt part was conſumed in frivolous expences, games, feaſts, and ſhows, which coſt immenſe ſums, and were of no manner of utility to the ſtate.

But the greateſt glory of Athens, was its be⯑ing the ſchool and abode of polite learning, arts, and ſciences. The ſtudy of poetry, elo⯑quence, philoſophy, and mathematics began there, and came almoſt to their utmoſt per⯑fection. The young people were ſent firſt to learn grammar under maſters who taught them regularly, and upon the principles of their own language. Eloquence was ſtudied with ſtill greater attention, as in that popular govern⯑ment it opened the way to the higheſt employ⯑ments. To the ſtudy of rhetoric was annex⯑ed that of philoſophy, which compriſed all the ſciences; and in theſe there were many maſ⯑ters, very converſant, but, as is common, their vanity ſtill greater than their preten⯑ſions.

All the ſubordinate ſtates of Greece ſeemed to make Athens the object of their imitation; and, though inferior to it upon the whole, yet each produced great ſcholars, and remarkable warriors in its turn. Sparta alone took ex⯑ample from no other ſtate, but ſtill rigorouſly [78] attached to the inſtitutions of its great law⯑giver, Lycurgus, it diſdained all the arts of peace, which, while they poliſhed, ſerved to enervate the mind, and, formed only for war, they looked forward to campaigns and battles, as ſcenes of reſt and tranquillity. All the laws of Sparta, and all the inſtitutions of Ly⯑curgus, ſeemed to have no other object than war; all other employments, arts, polite learn⯑ing, ſciences, trades, and even huſbandry it⯑ſelf, were prohibited amongſt them. The ci⯑tizens of Lacedaemon were of two ſorts, either thoſe who inhabited the city of Sparta, and, who for that reaſon were called Spartans, and thoſe who inhabited the country dependent thereon. In the times of Lycurgus the Spar⯑tans amounted to nine thouſand men, the coun⯑trymen to thirty thouſand. This number was rather diminiſhed than encreaſed in ſucceeding times, but it ſtill compoſed a formidable body, that often gave laws to the reſt of Greece. The Spartan ſoldiers, properly ſo called, were con⯑ſidered as the flower of the nation, and we may judge of their eſtimation by the anxiety the republic expreſſed when three hundred of them were once taken priſoners by the Athenians.

But notwithſtanding the great valour of the Spartan ſtate, it was formed rather for a de⯑fenſive [79] than an offenſive war. They were al⯑ways careful to ſpare the troops of their coun⯑try, and as they had very little money, they were not in a capacity to ſend their armies up⯑on diſtant expeditions.

The armies both of Sparta and Athens were compoſed of four ſorts of troops: citizens, al⯑lies, mercenaries, and ſlaves. The greateſt number of troops in the two republics were compoſed of allies, who were paid by the ci⯑ties who ſent them. Thoſe which received pay from their employers were ſtyled mercenaries. The number of ſlaves attending on every army was very great, and the Helotes, in particular, were employed as light infantry.

The Greek infantry conſiſted of two kinds of ſoldiers; the one heavy armed, and carrying great ſhields, ſpears, and ſcymetars; the other light armed, carrying javelins, bows, and ſlings. Theſe were commonly placed in the front of the battle, or upon the wings, to ſhoot their arrows, or fling their javelins and ſtones at the enemy, and then retire through the in⯑tervals behind the ranks, to dart out occaſion⯑ally upon the retiring enemy.

The Athenians were pretty much ſtrangers to cavalry, and the Lacedaemonians did nor begin the uſe till after the war with Meſſene. [80] They raiſed their horſe principally in a ſmall city not far from Lacedaemon, called Sciros, and they were always placed on the extremity of the left wing, which poſt they claimed as their rightful ſtation.

But to recompence this defect of cavalry, the Athenians, in naval affairs, had a great ſupe⯑riority over all the ſtates of Greece. As they had an extenſive ſea coaſt; and as the profeſ⯑ſion of a merchant was held reptuable among them, their navy encreaſed, and was at length ſufficiently powerful to intimidate the fleets of Perſia.

Such were the two ſtates, that in ſome mea⯑ſure engroſſed all the power of Greece to them⯑ſelves; and, though ſeveral petty kingdoms ſtill held their governments in independence, yet they owed their ſafety to the mutual jea⯑louſy of theſe powerful rivals, and always found ſhelter from the one againſt the oppreſ⯑ſions of the other. Indeed the diſſimilarity of their habits, manners, and education, ſerved as well to divide theſe two ſtates, as their politi⯑cal ambition. The Lacedaemonians were ſe⯑vere, and ſeemed to have ſomething almoſt brutal in their character. A government too rigid, and a life too laborious, rendered their tempers haughtily ſullen and untractable. The [81] Athenians were naturally obliging and agree⯑able, chearful among each other, and hu⯑mane to their inferiors, but they were reſtleſs, unequal, timorous friends, and capricious pro⯑tectors. From hence neither republic could ſufficiently win over the ſmaller ſtates of Greece to their intereſts; and, although their ambi⯑tion would not ſuffer the country to remain in repoſe, yet their obvious defects were always a bar to the ſpreading their dominion. Thus the mutual jealouſy of theſe ſtates kept them both in conſtant readineſs for war, while their common defects kept the leſſer ſtates inde⯑pendent.

CHAP. V. From the Expulſion of HIPPIAS to the Death of DARIUS.

IT was in this diſpoſition of Athens and Sparta, and of the leſſer ſtates, their neigh⯑bours, that the Perſian monarchy began to in⯑tereſt itſelf in their diſputes, and made itſelf an umpire in their contentions for liberty, on⯑ly to ſeize upon the liberties of all. It has been already related, that Hippias being be⯑ſieged in Athens, and his children being taken [82] priſoners, in order to releaſe them, he conſented to abdicate the ſovereign power, and to leave the dominions of Athens in five days. Athens, however, in recovering its liberty, did not en⯑joy that tranquility which freedom is thought to beſtow. Two of the principal citizens, Caliſthenes, a favourite of the people, and Iſa⯑goras, who was ſupported by the rich, began to contend for that power which they had but a little before joined in depreſſing. The for⯑mer, who was become very popular, made an alteration in the form of their eſtabliſhment; and, inſtead of four tribes, whereof they before conſiſted, enlarged their number to ten. He alſo inſtituted the manner of giving votes by Oſtraciſm, as it was called. The manner of performing this, was for every citizen, not under ſixty years old, to give in a name written upon a tile, or oyſter-ſhell, (from whence the method of voting had its name) and he upon whom the majority fell was pronounced baniſhed for ten years. Theſe laws evidently calculated to encreaſe the power of the people, were ſo diſ⯑pleaſing to Iſagoras, that, rather than ſubmit, he had recourſe to Cleomenes king of Sparta, who undertook to eſpouſe his quarrel. In fact, the Lacedaemonians only wanted a favourable pretext for leſſening and deſtroying the power [83] of Athens, which, in conſequence of the com⯑mand of the oracle, they had ſo lately reſcued from tyranny. Cleomenes, therefore, avail⯑ing himſelf of the divided ſtate of the city, en⯑tered Athens, and procured the baniſhment of Caliſthenes, with ſeven hundred families more, who had ſided with him in the late commo⯑tions. Not content with this, he endeavoured to new model the ſtate, but being ſtrongly op⯑poſed by the ſenate, he ſeized upon the cita⯑del, from whence, however, in two days he was obliged to retire. Caliſthenes perceiving the enemy withdrawn, returned with his fol⯑lowers, and finding it vain to make any farther attempts for power, reſtored the government as ſettled by Solon.

In the mean time, the Lacedaemonians re⯑penting the ſervices they had rendered their rival ſtate, and perceiving the impoſture of the oracle, by which they were thus impelled to act againſt their own intereſts, began to think of reinſtating Hippias on the throne. But, previous to their attempt, they judged it pru⯑dent to conſult the ſubordinate ſtates of Greece, and to ſee what hopes they had of their concur⯑rence and approbation. Nothing however could be more mortifying than the univerſal deteſta⯑tion with which their propoſal was received by [84] the deputies of the ſtates of Greece. The de⯑puty of Corinth expreſſed the utmoſt indigna⯑tion at the deſign, and ſeemed aſtoniſhed that the Spartans, who were the avowed enemies of tyrants, ſhould thus eſpouſe the intereſts of one noted for cruelty and uſurpation. The reſt of the ſtates warmly ſeconded his ſenti⯑ments, and the Lacedaemonians, covered with confuſion and remorſe, abandoned Hippias and his cauſe for ever after.

Hippias being thus fruſtrated in his hopes of exciting the Greeks to ſecond his preten⯑ſions, was reſolved to have recourſe to one who was conſidered as a much more powerful patron. Wherefore, taking his leave of the Spartans, he applied himſelf to Artaphernes, governor of Sardis, for the king of Perſia, whom he endeavoured by every art to engage in a war againſt Athens. He repreſented to him the divided ſtate of the city, he enlarged upon its riches, and the happineſs of its ſitua⯑tion for trade. He added the eaſe with which it might be taken, and the glory that would at⯑tend ſucceſs. Influenced by theſe motives, the pride and the avarice of the Perſian court were enflamed, and nothing was ſo ardently ſought as the pretext of a diſpute with the Athenians. When, therefore, that city ſent [85] to the Perſian court to vindicate their proceed⯑ings, alledging, that Hippias deſerved no coun⯑tenance from ſo great a people; the anſwer re⯑turned was, ‘That if the Athenians would be ſafe, they muſt admit Hippias for their king.’ Athens having ſo lately thrown off the yoke, had too lively a ſenſe of its paſt calamities to accept ſafety upon ſuch baſe conditions, and reſolved to ſuffer the laſt extremity rather than open their gates to a tyrant. When Artaphernes, therefore, demanded the reſtoration of Hip⯑pias, the Athenians boldly returned him a downright and abſolute refuſal. From this aroſe the war between Greece and Perſia, one of the moſt glorious, and the moſt remarkable that ever graced the annals of kingdoms.

But there were more cauſes than one tend⯑ing to make a breach between theſe powerful nations, and producing an irreconcileable aver⯑ſion for each other. The Greek colonies of Ionia, Aeolia, and Caria, that were ſettled for above five hundred years in Aſia Minor, were at length ſubdued by Craeſus king of Lydia; and he, in turn, ſinking under the power of Cyrus, his conqueſts of courſe fell in with the reſt of his dominions. The Perſian monarch thus poſſeſſed of a very extenſive territory, placed governors over the ſeveral cities that were [86] thus ſubdued; and as men bred up in a deſ⯑potic court, were likely enough to imitate the example ſet them at home, it is probable enough they abuſed their power. Be this as it may, in all the Greek cities they were called Tyrants; and as theſe little ſtates had not yet loſt all idea of freedom, they took every op⯑portunity to recover their liberty, and made many bold, but unſucceſsful ſtruggles in that glorious cauſe. The Ionians particularly, who bore the greateſt ſway among them, let no oc⯑caſion ſlip which promiſed the ſmalleſt hopes of ſhaking off the Perſian yoke.

That which favoured their deſigns upon the preſent occaſion, was the expedition of Darius into Scythia, into which country he ſent a nu⯑merous army, laying a bridge over the river Iſter for that purpoſe. The Ionians were ap⯑pointed to guard this important paſs, but were adviſed by Miltiades, whom we ſhall after⯑wards find performing nobler exploits, to break down the bridge, and thus cut off the Perſian retreat. The Ionians, however, rejected his counſel, and Darius returned with his army into Europe, where he added Thrace and Ma⯑cedon to the number of his conqueſts.

Hiſtiaeus, the tyrant of Miletos, was the perſon who oppoſed the advice of Miltiades; [87] who, being of an ambitious and intriguing diſ⯑poſition, was willing to leſſen the merit of all his cotemporaries, in order to enhance his own. But he was deceived in his expecta⯑tions of ſucceſs; from theſe ſchemes Darius juſtly ſuſpecting his fidelity, took him with him to Suſa, under pretence of uſing his friend⯑ſhip and advice, but in reality of preventing his future machinations at home. But Hiſ⯑tyaeus ſaw too clearly the cauſe of his detenſion, which he regarded as a ſpecious impriſonment, and therefore took every opportunity of ſecret⯑ly exciting the Ionians to a revolt, hoping, that himſelf might one day be ſent to bring them to reaſon.

Ariſtagoras was at that time this ſtateſman's deputy at Miletus, and received the inſtruc⯑tions of his maſter to ſtir up the Ionian cities to revolt with the utmoſt alacrity. In fact, from a late failure of this general upon Naxos, his credit was ruined at the Perſian court, and no other alternative remained for him but to comply with the advice of Hiſtiaeus in ſtirring up a revolt, and of trying to place himſelf at the head of a new confederacy.

The firſt ſtep Ariſtagoras took to engage the affections of the Ionians, was to throw up his power in Miletus, where he was deputy, [88] and to reinſtate that little place in all its former freedom. He then made a journey through all Ionia, where, by his example, his credit, and perhaps his menaces, he induced every other governor to imitate his example. They all complied the more chearfully, as the Perſian power ſince the check it had received in Scy⯑thia, was the leſs able to puniſh their revolt, or to protect them in their continued attachment. Having thus united all theſe little ſtates by the conſciouſneſs of one common offence, he then threw off the maſk, declaring himſelf at the head of the confederacy, and bid defiance to the power of Perſia.

To enable himſelf to carry on the war with more vigour, he went in the beginning of the following year to Lacedaemon, in order to en⯑gage that ſtate in his intereſts, and engage it in a war with a power that ſeemed every day to threaten the general liberty of Greece. Cleo⯑menes was at that time king of Sparta, and to him Ariſtagoras applied for aſſiſtance, in what he repreſented as the common cauſe. He re⯑preſented to him, that the Ionians and Lace⯑daemonians were countrymen; that it would be for the honour of Sparta to concur with him in the deſign he had formed of reſtoring the Ioni⯑ans to their liberty; that the Perſians were [89] enervated by luxury; that their riches would ſerve to reward the conquerors, while nothing was ſo eaſy as their overthrow. Conſidering the preſent ſpirit of the Ionians, it would not be difficult, he ſaid, for the victorious Spar⯑tans to carry their arms even to the gates of Suſa, the metropolis of the Perſian empire, and thus give laws to thoſe who preſumed to call themſelves the ſovereigns of the world. Cleomenes deſired time to conſider this pro⯑poſal; and, being bred up in Spartan ignorance, demanded how far it was from the Ionian ſea to Suſa? Ariſtagoras, without conſidering the tendency of the queſtion, anſwered, that it might be a journey of three months. Cleome⯑nes made no anſwer, but turning his back upon ſo great an adventurer, gave orders that before ſun-ſet he ſhould quit the city. Still, however, Ariſtagoras followed him to his houſe, and finding the inefficacy of his eloquence, tried what his offers of wealth could do. He at firſt offered him ten talents, he then raiſed the ſum to fifteen; and it is unknown what effect ſuch a large ſum might have had upon the Spartan, had not his daughter, a child of nine years old, who was accidentally preſent at the propoſal, cried out, ‘Fly father, or this ſtranger will cor⯑rupt you.’ This advice given in the moment of [90] ſuſpenſe, prevailed; Cleomenes refuſed his bribes, and Ariſtagoras went to ſue at other cities, where eloquence was more honoured, and wealth more alluring.

Athens was a city where he expected a more favourable reception. Nothing could be more fortunate for his intereſts than his arrival at the very time they had received the peremptory meſſage from the Perſians to admit their ty⯑rant, or to fear the conſequences of their diſ⯑obedience. The Athenians were at that time all in an uproar, and the propoſal of Ariſtago⯑ras met with the moſt favourable reception. It was much eaſier to impoſe upon a multitude than a ſingle perſon, the whole body of citi⯑zens engaged immediately to furniſh twenty ſhips to aſſiſt his deſigns; and to theſe, the Eretrians and Eubaeans added five more.

Ariſtagoras, thus ſupplied, reſolved to act with vigour, and having collected all his forces together, ſet ſail for Epheſus; where, leaving his fleet, he entered the Perſian fron⯑tiers, and marched by land to Sardis, the ca⯑pital city of Lydia. Artaphernes, who reſid⯑ed there as the Perſian viceroy, finding the city untenable, reſolved to ſecure himſelf in the citadel, which he knew could not eaſily be forced. As moſt of the houſes of this city [91] were built with reeds, and conſequently very combuſtible, one of the houſes being ſet on fire by an Ionian ſoldier, the flames quickly ſpread to all the reſt. Thus the whole town was quickly reduced to aſhes, and numbers of the inhabitants ſlain. But the Perſians were ſoon avenged for this unneceſſary cruelty, for either recovering themſelves from their former panic, or being reinforced by the Lydians, they charg⯑ed the Ionians in a body, and drove them back with great ſlaughter. Nor was the pur⯑ſuit diſcontinued even as far as Epheſus, where the vanquiſhed and the victors arriving to⯑gether, a great carnage enſued, and but a ſmall part of the routed army eſcaped, which took ſhelter aboard the fleet, or in the neigh⯑bouring cities. Other defeats followed after this. The Athenians intimidated with ſuch a commencement of ill-ſucceſs, could not be perſuaded to continue the war. The Cypri⯑ans were obliged once more to ſubmit to the Perſian yoke. The Ionians loſt moſt of their towns one after the other, and Ariſtagoras fly⯑ing into Thrace, was cut off by the inhabitants with all his forces.

In the mean time, Hiſtiaeus, who was the original cauſe of all theſe misfortunes, find⯑ing that he began to be ſuſpected in Perſia, left [92] that court under a pretence of going to quell thoſe troubles, which he had all along ſecretly fomented, but his duplicity of conduct ren⯑dered him now ſuſpicious to either party. Artaphernes, the Perſian viceroy, plainly ac⯑cuſed him of treachery, while his own Mileſi⯑ans refuſed to admit him as their maſter. Thus wavering, uncertain, and not knowing where to turn, having picked up a few ſcattered re⯑mains of the routed armies, he fell in with Harpagus, one of the Perſian generals, who routed his forces, and made Hiſtiaeus himſelf a priſoner. Being ſent to Artaphernes, that inhuman commander immediately cauſed him to be crucified, and ordered his head to be ſent to Darius, who received the preſent with that diſguſt which evidenced his ſuperior hu⯑manity. He wept over it with a friendly ſor⯑row, and ordered that it ſhould receive honour⯑able interment.

In the mean time, the affairs of the Ionian confederacy every day became more deſperate. The Perſian generals finding that Miletus was the city which they chiefly depended on, re⯑ſolved to march thither with all their forces, concluding, that having carried that city, all the reſt would ſubmit of courſe. The Ionians having intelligence of this deſign, determined [93] in a general aſſembly, to make no oppoſition by land, where the Perſians were too powerful; but to fortify Miletus, and exert all their ef⯑forts by ſea, where they hoped for the advan⯑tage from their ſuperior ſkill in naval evolu⯑tions. They accordingly aſſembled a fleet of three hundred ſhips at a little iſland over againſt Miletus, and on the ſuperiority of this fleet they placed their whole reliance. But the Perſian gold effected what their arms were un⯑able to compaſs. Their emiſſaries having ſe⯑cretly debauched the greateſt part of the con⯑federates, and engaged them to deſert; when the two fleets came to engage, the ſhips of Sa⯑mos, Leſbos, and ſeveral other places, ſailed off, and returned to their own country. Thus the remaining part of the fleet, which did not amount to more than an hundred ſhips, was quickly overpowered, and almoſt totally de⯑ſtroyed.

After this the city of Miletus was beſieged, and was eaſily taken. All the other cities, as well on the continent as among the iſlands, were forced to return to their duty. Thoſe who continued obſtinate were treated with great ſeverity. The handſomeſt of the young men were choſen to ſerve in the king's palace, and the young women were all ſent into Per⯑ſia. [94] Thus ended the revolt of the Ionians, which continued ſix years from its firſt break⯑ing out under Ariſtagoras, and this was the third time the Ionians were obliged to undergo the yoke of foreign dominion, for they inhe⯑rited a natural love of freedom, which all the Greeks were known to poſſeſs.

The Perſians having thus ſubdued the greateſt part of Aſia Minor, began to look to⯑wards Europe, as offering conqueſts worthy their ambition. The aſſiſtance given the Ioni⯑ans by the Athenian fleet, and the refuſal of that ſtate to admit Hippias as their king, the taking of Sardis, and the contempt they teſtifi⯑ed for the Perſian power, were all ſufficient motives for exciting the reſentment of that empire, and for marking out all Greece for de⯑ſtruction. Darius, therefore, in the twenty-eighth year of his reign, having recalled all his other generals, ſent Mardonius, the ſon of Gobryas, a young nobleman who had lately married one of the king's daughters, to com⯑mand in chief throughout all the maritime parts of Aſia; and, particularly, to revenge the burning of Sardis. This was an offence which that monarch ſeemed peculiarly to re⯑ſent, and from the time of that conflagration, he had given orders for one of his attendants [95] every time he ſat down to table, to cry out, ‘remember the Athenians.’

Mardonius, willing to ſecond his maſter's animoſity, quickly paſſed into Thrace at the head of a large army, and ſo terrified the in⯑habitants of that country, that they yielded implicit obedience to his power. From thence he ſet ſail for Macedonia, but his fleet at⯑tempting to double the Cape of Mount Athos, in order to gain the coaſts of that country, they were attacked by ſo violent a tempeſt, that upwards of three hundred ſhips were ſunk, and above twenty thouſand men periſhed in the ſea. His land army, that took the longeſt way about, met, at the ſame time, with equal diſtreſſes. For being encamped in a place of no ſecurity, the Thracians attacked them by night, and made a great ſlaughter among the enemy. Mardonius himſelf was wounded, and finding his army unable to maintain the field, he returned to the Perſian court covered with grief and confuſion, having miſcarried both by ſea and land.

But the ill ſucceſs of one or two campaigns was not ſufficient to abate the reſentment, or the ardour of the king of Perſia. Poſſeſſed as he was of reſources almoſt inexhauſtible, wealth without end, and armies that ſeemed [96] to encreaſe from defeat, he only grew more determined from every repulſe, and doubled his preparations in proportion to his former failures. He now perceived that the youth and inexperience of Mardonius were unequal to ſo great an undertaking, he, therefore, diſ⯑placed him, and appointed two generals, Da⯑tis, a Mede, and Artaphernes, the ſon of him who was late governor of Sardis, in his ſtead. His thoughts were earneſtly bent on attacking Greece with all his forces; he wiſhed to take a ſignal revenge upon Athens, which he conſidered as the principal caufe of the late revolt in Ionia: beſides, Hippias was ſtill near him to warm his ambition, and keep his reſentment alive. Greece, he ſaid, was now an object for ſuch a conqueror; the world had long beheld it with an eye of admiration, and if not ſoon humbled, it might in time ſupplant even Perſia in the homage of the world.

Thus excited by every motive of ambition and revenge, Darius reſolved to bend all his attention to a war with Greece. He had in the beginning of his reign ſent ſpies with one Democedes, a Greek phyſician, as their con⯑ductor, to bring him information with reſpect to the ſtrength and ſituation of all the ſtates of Greece. This ſecret deputation failed; he [97] was, therefore, willing once more to ſend men under the character of heralds, to denounce his reſentment; and, at the ſame time, to learn how the different ſtates of the country ſtood affected towards him. The form uſed by the Perſians, when they expected ſubmiſſion from leſſer ſtates, was to demand earth and water in the monarch's name, and ſuch as refuſed were to be conſidered as oppoſers of the Per⯑ſian power. On the arrival, therefore, of the heralds amongſt the Greeks, many of the ci⯑ties, dreading the Perſian power, complied with their demands. The Eginetans, with ſome of the iſlands alſo, yielded up a ready ſubmiſſion, and almoſt all but Athens and Sparta were contented to exchange their liberties for ſafety.

But theſe two noble republics bravely diſ⯑dained to acknowledge the Perſian power; they had felt the benefits of freedom, and were reſolved to maintain it to the laſt. In⯑ſtead therefore of offering up earth and water as demanded, they threw the heralds, the one into a well, the other into a ditch, and adding mockery to inſult, deſired them to take earth and water from thence. This they probably did to cut off all hopes of a reconciliation, and to leave no ſafety but in perſeverance and deſpair.

[98] Nor were the Athenians content with this outrage, but reſolved alſo to puniſh the Aegine⯑tans, who, by a baſe ſubmiſſion to the Perſian power, had betrayed the common cauſe of Greece. They accordingly repreſented the affair to the Spartans, with all its aggravating circumſtances, and heightened with that elo⯑quence for which they were famous. Before ſuch judges it was not likely that cowardice or timidity would find many defenders; the Spar⯑tans immediately gave judgment againſt the people of Aegina, and ſent Cleomenes, one of their kings, to apprehend the authors of ſo baſe a conceſſion. The people of Aegina, how⯑ever, refuſed to deliver them, under pretence that Cleomenes came without his colleague. This colleague was Demaratus, who had himſelf ſecretly furniſhed them with that excuſe. As ſoon as Cleomenes was returned to Sparta, in order to be revenged on Demaratus for thus counteracting the demands of his country, he endeavoured to get him depoſed, as not being of the royal family. In fact, Demaratus was born only ſeven months after marriage, and this was ſuppoſed by many to be a ſufficient proof of his baſtardy. This accuſation, there⯑fore, being revived, the Pythian oracle was appointed to determine the controverſy; and [99] the prieſteſs being privately ſuborned by Cleomenes, an anſwer was given againſt his colleague juſt as he had dictated. Demaratus thus being declared illegitimate, and unable to endure ſo groſs an injury, baniſhed himſelf from his country, and retired to Darius, who received him with great friendſhip, and gave him a conſiderable ſettlement in Perſia. He was ſucceeded in the throne by Leotychides, who concurring with the views of Cleomenes, puniſhed the Aeginetans, by placing ten of their moſt guilty citizens in the hands of the Athenians; while Cleomenes, ſome time after, being detected of having ſuborned the prieſteſs, ſlew himſelf in a fit of deſpair.

On the other hand, the Aeginetans com⯑plained of the ſeverity of their treatment, but finding no likelihood of redreſs, they reſolved to obtain that juſtice by force which was re⯑fuſed to their ſupplications. Accordingly, they intercepted an Athenian ſhip, which in purſuance of an annual cuſtom ever ſince the times of Theſeus, was going to Delos to offer ſacrifice. This produced a naval war between theſe two ſtates; in which, after a variety of fortunes, the Aeginetans were worſted, and the Athenians poſſeſſed themſelves of the ſo⯑vereignty of the ſeas. Thus theſe civil diſ⯑cords, [100] which ſeemed at firſt to favour the de⯑ſigns of the common enemy, turned out to the general advantage of Greece. For the Athe⯑nians thus acquiring great power at ſea, were put in a capacity of facing the Perſian fleets, and of cutting off thoſe ſupplies which were continually carrying to their armies by land.

In the mean time, the preparations on both ſides for a general war, were carried on with the greateſt animoſity and diſpatch. Da⯑rius ſent away his generals, Datis and Arta⯑phernes, whom he had appointed in the room of Mardonius, to what he ſuppoſed a certain conqueſt. They were furniſhed with a fleet of ſix hundred ſhips, and an army of an hun⯑dred and twenty thouſand men; their in⯑ſtructions were, to give up Athens and Eretria, a little city which had joined in the league againſt him, to be plundered; to burn all the houſes and temples of both, and to lead away all the inhabitants into ſlavery. The country was to be laid deſolate, and the army was provided with a ſufficient ſupply of chains and fetters for binding the conquered na⯑tions.

To oppoſe this formidable invaſion, the Athenians had only their courage, their animo⯑ſity, their dread of ſlavery, their diſcipline [...] [101] and about ten thouſand men. Their civil commotions with the other ſtates of Greece had given them a ſpirit of war and ſtratagem, while the genius of their citizens, continually excited and exerciſed, was arrived at its higheſt pitch, and fitted them for every danger. Athens had long been refining in all thoſe arts which qualifies a ſtate to extend, or to enjoy conqueſt; every citizen was a ſtateſman and a general, and every ſoldier conſidered himſelf as one of the bulwarks of his country. But in this little ſtate, from whence firſt flowed all theſe im⯑provements that have ſince adorned and ci⯑vilized ſociety, there was at that time three men who were conſidered as ſuperiors to all the reſt, all remarkable for their abilities in war, and their integrity in peace, for thoſe qua⯑lifications that can advance the glory of ſtates, or procure the happineſs of the individual.

Of theſe Miltiades, as being the moſt ex⯑perienced, was at that time the moſt known. He was the ſon of Cimon, and nephew of Miltiades, an illuſtrious Athenian, who ac⯑cepted the government of the Dolonci, a people of the Thracian Cherſoneſus. Old Miltiades dying without iſſue, he was ſucceed⯑ed in his government by Steſagoras his nephew, and he alſo dying, young Militades was cho⯑ſen [102] as his ſucceſſor. He was appointed to that government the ſame year that Darius undertook his unſucceſsful expedition againſt the Scythians. He was obliged to attend that prince as far as the Iſter with what ſhipping he was able to ſupply; but ever eager to throw off the Perſian yoke, it was he who adviſed the Ionians to deſtroy the bridge, and leave the army of Darius to its fate. When the affairs of the continent began to decline, Miltiades, rather than live in dependence, reſolved to re⯑turn once more to Athens; and thither he re⯑turned with five ſhips, which were all that re⯑mained of his ſhattered fortunes.

At the ſame time, two other citizens, younger than Miltiades, began to diſtinguiſh them⯑ſelves at Athens, namely, Ariſtides and The⯑miſtocles. Theſe were of very different diſ⯑poſitions; but from this difference reſulted the greateſt advantages to their country. The⯑miſtocles was naturally inclined to a popular government, and omitted nothing that could render him agreeable to the people, or gain him friends. His complaiſance was boundleſs, and his deſire to oblige ſometimes out-ſtepped the bounds of duty. His partiality was often conſpicuous. Somebody talking with him once on the ſubject, told him he would make [103] an excellent magiſtrate if he had more impar⯑tiality: ‘God forbid, replied he, that I ſhould ever ſit upon a tribunal where my friends ſhould find no more favour than ſtrangers.’

Ariſtides was as remarkable for his juſtice and integrity. Being a favourer of ariſtocracy, in imitation of Lycurgus, he was friendly, but never at the expence of juſtice. In ſeeking honours, he ever declined the intereſts of his friends, leſt they ſhould, in turn, demand his intereſt when his duty was to be impartial. The love of the public good was the great ſpring of all his actions, and with that in view no difficulties could daunt him, no ſucceſs or elevation exalt. On all occaſions he preſerv⯑ed his uſual calmneſs of temper, being per⯑ſuaded that he was entirely his country's, and very little his own. One day when an actor was repeating ſome lines from Aeſchylus on the ſtage, coming to a paſſage which deſcrib⯑ed a man as not deſiring to appear honeſt, but to be ſo, the whole audience caſt their eyes on Ariſtides, and applied the paſſage. In the adminiſtration of public offices, his whole aim was to perform his duty without any thought of enriching himſelf.

Such were the characters of the illuſtri⯑ous Athenians that led the councils of the [104] ſtate when Darius turned his arms againſt Greece. Theſe inſpired their fellow-citizens with a noble confidence in the juſtice of their cauſe, and made all the preparations againſt the coming invaſion that prudence and deli⯑berate valour could ſuggeſt. In the mean time, Datis and Artaphernes led on their nu⯑merous forces towards Europe; and after hav⯑ing made themſelves maſters of the iſlands in the Aegean ſea without any oppoſition, they turned their courſe towards Eretria, that city which had formerly aſſiſted the Ionians in their revolt. The Eretrians, now driven to the laſt extremity, ſaw no hopes of meeting their enemy in the field, wherefore they ſent back four thouſand men that the Athenians had ſupplied them with, and reſolved patient⯑ly to ſtand a ſiege. For ſix days the Perſians at⯑tempted to ſtorm the city, and were repulſed with loſs; but on the ſeventh, the city, by the treachery of ſome of the principal inhabitants, being betrayed into their hands, they entered, plundered, and burned it. The inhabitants were put in chains, and ſent as the firſt fruits of war to the Perſian monarch; but he, contrary to their expectation, treated them with great lenity, and gave them a village in the coun⯑try of Ciſſa for their reſidence, where Apol⯑lonius [105] Tyanaeus found their deſcendants ſix hundred years after.

After ſuch ſplendid ſucceſs at Eretria, no⯑thing now remained but the apparently eaſy conqueſt of Greece. Hippias, the expelled tyrant of Athens, ſtill accompanied the Per⯑ſian army, and led them by the ſafeſt marches into the heart of the country; at length, fluſhed with victory and certain of ſucceſs, he conducted them to the plains of Marathon, a fertile valley but ten miles diſtant from Athens. From thence they ſent to ſummon the citizens, acquainting them with the fate of Fretria, and informing them that not a ſingle inhabitant had eſcaped their vengeance. But the Athenians were not to be intimidated by any vicinity of danger. They had ſent in⯑deed to Sparta to implore ſuccours againſt the common enemy, which were granted without deliberation; but the ſuperſtition of the times rendered their aſſiſtance ineffectual, for it was an eſtabliſhed law among the Spartans not to begin a march before the full moon. They applied alſo to other ſtates, but they were too much awed by the power of Perſia to move in their defence. An army of an hundred and twenty thouſand men, exulting in the midſt of their country, was too formidable for a [106] weak and jealous confederacy to oppoſe. The inhabitants of Platea alone furniſhed them with a thouſand ſoldiers, and they were left to find all other aſſiſtance in their courage and their deſpair.

In this extremity they were obliged to arm their ſlaves for the ſafety of all, and their forces thus united amounted to but ten thou⯑ſand men. Hoping therefore to derive from their diſcipline what they wanted in power, they placed their whole army under the con⯑duct of ten generals, of whom Miltiades was chief, and theſe each was to have the com⯑mand of the troops day about in regular ſuc⯑ceſſion. An arrangement in itſelf ſo unpro⯑miſing, was ſtill more embarraſſed by the ge⯑nerals themſelves diſputing whether they ſhould hazard a battle, or wait the approach of the enemy within their walls. The latter opinion ſeemed for a while to prevail; it was urged that it would be raſhneſs itſelf to face ſo pow⯑erful and well appointed an army with an handful of men. It was alledged that the ſoldiers would gather courage from their ſe⯑curity behind their walls, and that the forces of Sparta without, might make a diverſion in caſe of a ſally from within. Militades, how⯑ever, declared for the contrary opinion, and [107] ſhewed that the only means to exalt the cou⯑rage of their own troops, and to ſtrike a ter⯑ror into thoſe of the enemy, was to advance boldly toward them with an air of confidence and deſperate intrepidity. Ariſtides alſo ſtre⯑nuouſly embraced this opinion, and exerted all his maſculine eloquence to bring over the reſt. The queſtion being put, when the ſuffrages came to be taken, the opinions were equal on either ſide of the argument. It now there⯑fore remained with Callimachus, the Polem⯑arch, who had a right of voting as well as the ten commanders, to give his opinion and decide this important debate. It was to him Miltiades addreſſed himſelf with the utmoſt earneſtneſs, alledging that the fate of his coun⯑try was now in his power; that his ſingle vote was to determine whether his country ſhould be enſlaved or free; that his fame might now, by a ſingle word, be made equal to that of Harmodius and Ariſtogiton, who were the au⯑thors of Athenian liberty. Thus exhorted, Callimachus did not long debate, but gave his voice in favour of an open engagement; and Miltiades, thus ſeconded, prepared to marſhal up his little army for the great en⯑counter.

[108] In the mean time it appeared that ſo many leaders commanding in ſucceſſion, only ſerved to perplex and counteract each other. Ari⯑ſtides perceived that a command which changes every day, muſt be incapable of projecting or executing any uniform deſign; he therefore gave it as his opinion that it was neceſſary to inveſt the whole power in one ſingle perſon, and to induce his colleagues to conform, he himſelf ſet the firſt example of reſignation. When the day came on which it was his turn to command, he reſigned it to Miltiades as the more able and experienced general, while the other commanders, warmed by ſo ge⯑nerous a preſerence followed his example.

Miltiades thus veſted in the ſupreme com⯑mand, which was now the poſt of higheſt danger, like an experienced general, endea⯑voured, by the advantage of his ground, to make up for his deficiency in ſtrength and numbers He was ſenſible that by extending his front to oppoſe the enemy, he muſt weaken it too much, and give their denſe body the advantage. He therefore drew up his army at the foot of a mountain, ſo that the enemy ſhould not ſurround him or charge him in the rear. On the flanks on either ſide he cauſed large trees to be thrown, which were cut down [109] for that purpoſe, and theſe ſerved to guard him from the Perſian cavalry, that generally wheeled on the flank in the heat of an en⯑gagement.

Datis, on his ſide, was ſenſible of this ad⯑vantageous diſpoſition, but relying on his ſupe⯑riority of numbers, and unwilling to wait till the Spartan reinforcements ſhould arrive, he determined to engage. And now was to be fought the firſt great battle which the Greeks had ever engaged in. It was not like any of their former civil conteſts ariſing from jealouſy and terminating in an eaſy accommodation: it was a battle that was to be decided with the greateſt monarch of the earth, with the moſt numerous army that had been hitherto ſeen in Europe. This was an engagement that was to decide the liberty of Greece, and, what was of infinitely greater moment, the future progreſs of refinement among mankind. Upon the event of this battle depended the com⯑plexion which the manners of the Weſt were hereafter to aſſume, whether they were to adopt Aſiatic cuſtoms with their conquerors, or to go on in modelling themſelves upon Grecian refinements, as was afterwards the caſe. This thereſore may be conſidered as one of the moſt important battles that ever [110] was fought, and the event was as little to be expected as the ſucceſs was glorious.

The ſignal was no ſooner given than the Athenians, without waiting the Perſian onſet, ruſhed in upon their ranks with deſperate ra⯑pidity, as if wholly regardleſs of ſafety. The Perſians regarded this firſt ſtep of the Athe⯑nians as the reſult of madneſs, and were more inclined to deſpiſe them as maniacs, than op⯑poſe them as ſoldiers. However, they were quickly undeceived. It had never before been the cuſtom of the Greeks to run on with this headlong valour; but comparing the number of their own forces with that of the enemy, and expecting ſafety only from raſhneſs, they determined to break through the enemies ranks or fall in the attempt. The greatneſs of their danger added to their courage, and deſpair did the reſt. The Perſians, however, ſtood their ground with great intrepidity, and the battle was long, fierce, and obſtinate. Mil⯑tiades had made the wings of his army ex⯑ceeding ſtrong, but had left the main body more weak and not ſo deep, for having but ten thouſand men to oppoſe to ſuch a nu⯑merous army, he ſuppoſed the victory could be obtained by no other means than ſtrength⯑ening his flanks, not doubting but when his [111] wings were once victorious, they would be able to wheel upon the enemies main body on ei⯑ther ſide, and thus put them eaſily to the rout. The Perſians, therefore, finding the main body weakeſt, attacked it with their ut⯑moſt vigour. It was in vain that Ariſtides and Themiſtocles, who were ſtationed in this poſt of danger, endeavoured to keep their troops to the charge. Courage and intrepidity were unable to reſiſt the torrent of encreaſing numbers, ſo that they were at laſt obliged to give ground. But in the mean time the wings were victorious, and now, juſt as the main body was fainting under the unequal encounter, theſe came up and gave them time to recover their ſtrength and order. Thus the ſcale of victory quickly began to turn in their favour, and the Perſians, from being the aggreſſors, now began to give ground in turn, and being unſupported by freſh forces, they fled to their ſhips with the utmoſt precipitation. The con⯑fuſion and diſorder was now univerſal, the Athenians followed them to the beach and ſat many of their ſhips on fire. On this occaſion it was that Cyndaeyrus, the brother of the poet Aeſchylus, ſeized with his hand one of the ſhips that the enemy was puſhing off from the ſhore. The Perſians, within ſeeing them⯑ſelves [112] thus arreſted, cut off his right hand that held the prow, he then laid hold of it with his left, which they alſo cut off, at laſt he ſeized it with his teeth, and in that manner expired.

Seven of the enemies ſhips were taken, above ſix thouſand Perſians were ſlain, without rec⯑koning thoſe who were drowned in the ſea as they endeavoured to eſcape, or thoſe who were conſumed when the ſhips were ſet on fire. Of the Greeks not above two hundred men were killed, among whom was Callimachus, who gave his vote for bringing on the engagement. Hippias, who was the chief incendiary of the war, is alſo thought to have fallen in this battle, though ſome ſay he eſcaped and died miſerably at Lemnos.

Such was the famous battle of Marathon, which the Perſians were ſo ſure of gaining, that they had brought marble into the field in order to erect a trophy there. Juſt after the battle an Athenian ſoldier, whoſe name was Eucles, ſtill covered all over with blood and wounds, quitted the army and ran to Athens to carry his fellow-citizens the news of the victory. His ſtrength juſt ſufficed to reach the city, and throwing himſelf into the door of the firſt houſe he met, he uttered three [113] words, ‘Rejoice, we triumph,’ and inſtantly ex⯑pired.

While a part of the army marched forward to Athens, to protect it from the attempts of the enemy, Ariſtides remained upon the field of battle to guard the ſpoil and the priſoners; and although gold and ſilver were ſcattered about the enemy's deſerted camp in abundance, though their tents and gallies were full of rich furniture and ſumptuous apparel, he would not permit any of it to be embezzled, but reſerved it as a common reward for all who had any ſhare in obtaining the victory. Two thouſand Spartans alſo, whoſe laws would not permit them to march until the full of the moon, now came into the field, but the action being over the day before, they only had an opportunity of paying due honours to thoſe who gained ſo glorious a victory, and to bring back the news to Sparta. Of the marble which the Perſians had brought with them, the Athenians made a trophy, being carved by Phidias into a ſtatue, in honour of the goddeſs Nemeſis, who had a temple near the field of battle.

In the mean time, the Perſian fleet, inſtead of ſailing directly back to Aſia, made an attempt to ſurpriſe Athens before the Greek forces could arrive from Marathon. But the latter [114] had the precaution to move directly thither, and performed their march with ſo much ex⯑pedition, that though it was forty miles from Marathon, they arrived there in one day. In this manner the Greeks not only repelled their enemies, but confirmed their ſecurity. By this victory the Grecians were taught to know their own ſtrength, and not to tremble before an ene⯑my terrible only in name. This taught them through the whole of ſucceeding ages to imi⯑tate their anceſtors with an ardent emulation, and inſpired them with a wiſh of not degene⯑rating from the Grecian glory. Thoſe Athe⯑nians that were ſlain in battle had all the ho⯑nour immediately paid them that was due to their merit. Illuſtrious monuments were erect⯑ed to them all in the very place where the bat⯑tle was fought, upon which their names, and the tribe to which they belonged, were inſcrib⯑ed. There were three diſtinct ſets of monu⯑ments ſet up; one for the Athenians, one for the Plataeans, and a third for the ſlaves who had been enrolled into their troops upon that urgent occaſion.

But their gratitude to Miltiades ſpoke a nobleneſs of mind, that far ſurpaſſed expenſive triumphs, or baſe adulation. Senſible that his merits were too great for money to repay, [115] they cauſed a picture to be painted by Po⯑lygnotus, one of their moſt celebrated artiſts, where Miltiades was repreſented at the head of the ten commanders exhorting the ſoldiers, and ſetting them an example of their duty. This picture was preſerved for many ages, with other paintings of the beſt maſters, in the por⯑tico where Zeno afterwards inſtituted his ſchool of philoſophy. An emulation ſeemed to take place in every rank of life; Polygnotus valued himſelf ſo much upon the honour of being ap⯑pointed to paint this picture, that he gave his labour for nothing. In return for ſuch genero⯑ſity, the Amphyctions appointed him a pub⯑lic lodging in the city where he might reſide during pleaſure.A. M. 3514.

But though the gratitude of the Athenians to Miltiades was very ſincere, yet was it of no long continuance. This fickle and jealous people, naturally capricious, and now more than ever careful of preſerving their freedom, were willing to take every opportunity of mor⯑tifying a general, from whoſe merit they had much to fear. Being appointed with ſeventy ſhips to puniſh thoſe iſlands that had favoured the Perſian invaſion, and having raiſed the ſiege of Paros, upon a falſe report of the arri⯑val of the enemy's fleet, he returned unſucceſs⯑fully [116] to Athens, where he was accuſed by one Xanthippus, of having taken a bribe from Per⯑ſia. As he was not in a condition to anſwer this charge, being confined to his bed by a fall he received at Paros; the accuſation took place againſt him, and he was condemned to loſe his life. The manner of executing cri⯑minals found guilty of great offences, was by throwing them into the Barathrum, a deep pit, from whence none were ever ſeen to return. This ſentence was pronounced againſt him, but his former ſervices were ſuch, as to have this puniſhment commuted into a penalty of fifty talents, the ſum which it had coſt the ſtate in fitting out the late unſucceſsful expedi⯑tion. Not being rich enough to pay this ſum, he was thrown into priſon, where the bruiſe on his thigh growing worſe, from bad air and confine⯑ment, it turned at laſt to a gangrene, and put an end to his life and misfortunes.

Cimon, his ſon, who was at this time very young, ſignalized his piety on this occaſion. As this ungrateful city would not permit the body of Miltiades to be buried until all his debts were paid, this young man employed all his intereſt among his friends, and ſtrained his ut⯑moſt credit to pay the fine, and procured his fa⯑ther's body an honourable interment.

CHAP. IV. From the Death of MILTIADES to the Retreat of XERXES out of Greece.

THE misfortunes of Darius only ſerved to encreaſe his reſentment, and give ſpirit to his perſeverance. Finding the ill ſucceſs of his generals, he reſolved to try the war in perſon, and diſpatched orders throughout his whole dominions for freſh preparations. However, a revolt in Egypt for a while averted his reſent⯑ment, a conteſt among his ſons about nominat⯑ing his ſucceſſor ſtill farther retarded his de⯑ſigns; and, at laſt, when he had ſurmounted every obſtacle, and was juſt preparing to take a ſignal vengeance, his death put an end to all his projects, and gave Greece a longer time for preparation.

Xerxes, his ſon, ſucceeded, who, with the empire, inherited alſo his father's animoſity againſt Greece. Having carried on a ſucceſs⯑ful expedition againſt Egypt, he expected the ſame good fortune in Europe. Confident of victory, he did not chuſe, he ſaid, for the fu⯑ture [118] to buy the figs of Attica; he would poſſeſs himſelf of the country, and thus have figs of his own. But, before he engaged in an enter⯑prize of that importance, he thought proper to aſſemble his council, and collect the opi⯑nions of the principal officers of his court. In his ſpeech at opening the council, he evidently ſhewed his deſire of revenge, and his paſſion for military glory. The beſt way, therefore, to pay court to this young monarch, was by flattering him in his favourite purſuits, and giving his impetuous aims the air of ſtudied deſigns. Mardonius, grown neither wiſer nor leſs ambitious by his own bad ſucceſs, be⯑gan by extolling Xerxes above all other kings that had gone before. He urged the indiſ⯑penſible neceſſity of avenging the diſhonour done to the Perſian name; he repreſented the Greeks as cowards, that were accidently ſuc⯑ceſsful, and was firmly of opinion, that they would never more ſtand even the hazard of a battle. A diſcourſe that ſo nearly conincided with his own ſentiments, was very pleaſing to the young monarch, and the reſt of the com⯑pany by their looks, and their ſilence, ſeemed to applaud his impetuoſity. But Artabanus, the king's uncle, who had long learned to re⯑verence courage even in an enemy, and preſum⯑ing [119] upon his age and experience, to ſpeak his real ſentiments, roſe with an honeſt freedom to repreſent the intended expedition in its true light. ‘"Permit me, ſir, ſaid he, to deliver my ſentiments upon this occaſion with a liberty ſuitable to my age and your intereſt. When Darius, your father, and my brother, firſt thought of making war againſt the Scythi⯑ans, I uſed all my endeavours to divert him from it. The people you are going to at⯑tack are infinitely more formidable than they. If the Athenians alone could defeat the numerous army commanded by Datis and Artaphernes, what ought we to expect from an oppoſition of all the ſtates of Greece united? You deſign to paſs from Aſia into Europe, by laying a bridge over the ſea. But what if the Athenians ſhould advance and deſtroy this bridge, and ſo prevent our return? Let us not expoſe ourſelves to ſuch dangers, as we have no ſufficient motives to compel us to face them; at leaſt let us take time to reflect upon it. When we have ma⯑turely deliberated upon an affair, whatever happens to be the ſucceſs of it, we have no⯑thing to regret. Precipitation is imprudent, and is uſually unſucceſsful. Above all, do not ſuffer yourſelf, great prince, to be dazzled [120] with the ſplendor of imaginary glory. The higheſt and the moſt lofty trees have the moſt reaſon to dread the thunder. God loves to humble the oſtentatious, and reſerves to him⯑ſelf alone the pride of importance. As for you, Mardonius, who ſo earneſtly urge this expedition, if it muſt be ſo, lead it forward. But let the king, whoſe life is dear to us all, return back to Perſia. In the mean time, let your children and mine be given up as a pledge to anſwer for the ſucceſs of the war. If the iſſue be favourable, I conſent that mine be put to death, but if it prove other⯑wiſe, as I well foreſee, then I deſire that you and your children may meet the reward of raſhneſs."’

This advice, which was rather ſincere than palatable, was received by Xerxes with a de⯑gree of rage and reſentment. ‘"Thank the Gods, cried he, that thou art my father's brother; were it not for that thou ſhouldſt this moment meet the juſt reward of thy au⯑dacious behaviour. But you ſhall have your puniſhment; remain here behind among the women; theſe you but too much reſemble in your cowardice and fear. Stay here while I march at the head of my troops where my duty and glory call me."’ Upon cooler [121] thoughts, however, Xerxes ſeemed better re⯑conciled to his uncle's opinion. When the firſt emotions of his anger were over, and he had time to reflect on his pillow upon the different counſels that were given him, he confeſſed the raſhneſs of his former rebuke, and ingenuouſly aſcribed it to heat of youth and the ardour of paſſion. He offered to come over to his opinion, at the ſame time aſſuring the council, that from his dreams he had every encouragement to proceed with the expedition. So much condeſcenſion on the one hand, and ſuch favourable omens on the other, deter⯑mined the whole council to ſecond his incli⯑nations. They fell proſtrate before him, eager to ſhew their ſubm [...]ſſion and their joy. A mon⯑arch thus ſurrounded by flatterers, all ſtriving which ſhould moſt gratify his pride and paſ⯑ſions, could not long continue good, though naturally inclined to virtue. Xerxes therefore ſeems a character thus ruined by power, ex⯑erting his natural juſtice and wiſdom at ſhort intervals, but then giving way to the moſt culpable and extravagant exceſſes. Thus the counſel of Arrabanes being rejected, and that of Mardonius favourably received, the moſt extenſive preparations were made for carrying on the war.

[122] The greatneſs of theſe preparations ſeemed to ſhew the high ſenſe which the Perſians had of their enemy. Xerxes, that he might omit nothing conducive to ſucceſs, entered into an alliance with the Carthaginians, who were, at that time, the moſt potent people of the Weſt; with whom it was ſtipulated, that while the Perſian forces ſhould attack Greece, the Car⯑thaginians ſhould awe the Greek colonies, diſ⯑perſed over the Mediterranean, from coming to their aſſiſtance. Thus having drained all the Eaſt to compoſe his own army, and the Weſt to ſupply that of the Carthaginians under Amilcar, he ſet out from Suſa in order to en⯑ter upon this war, A. M. 3523. ten years after the battle of Marathon.

Sardis was the place where the various na⯑tions that were compelled to his banner were to aſſemble. His fleet was to advance along the coaſts of Aſia Minor towards the Hel⯑leſpont. But as in doubling the cape of Mount Athos many ſhipwrecks were ſuſtained, he was reſolved to cut a paſſage through that neck of land which joined the mountain to the con⯑tinent, and thus give his ſhipping a ſhorter and ſafer paſſage. This canal was a mile and a half long, and hollowed out from a high mountain; it required immenſe labour to per⯑form [123] ſo great a work, but his numbers and his ambition were ſufficient to ſurmount all difficulties. To urge on the undertaking the faſter, he treated his labourers with the greateſt ſeverity, while with all the oſtentation of an Eaſtern prince he gave his commands to the mountain to ſink before him: ‘Athos, thou proud aſpiring mountain, that lifteſt up thy head unto the heavens, be not ſo audacious as to put ob⯑ſtacles in my way. If thou giveſt them that op⯑poſition, I will cut thee level to the plain, and throw thee headlong into the ſea.’

As this monarch paſſed on in his march to the place of general deſtination, he went through Cappadocia, croſſed the river Halys, and came to Calene, a city of Phrygia, near the ſource of the river Meander. He was there met by Pythias, a Lydian prince, who, by the moſt extreme parſimony and oppreſſion, had become, next to Xerxes, the moſt opulent man in all the Perſian empire. His treaſures, however, were not ſufficient to buy off the at⯑tendance of his eldeſt ſon, whom he requeſted might be permitted to remain with him, as he was old and helpleſs. He had before offered his money, which amounted to about four millions ſterling, for the monarch's uſe; but this Xerxes had refuſed, and now, finding the [124] young prince willing to remain with his father, he was ſo enraged that he commanded him to be put to death before his father's eyes. Then cauſing the dead body to be cut in two, and one part of it to be placed on the right, and the other on the left, he made the whole army paſs between them to terrify them from a re⯑luctance to engage by his example.

From Phrygia Xerxes marched to Sardis, and, in the opening of ſpring, directed his march down towards the Helleſpont, where his fleet lay in all their pomp, expecting his ar⯑rival. Here being arrived, he was deſirous of taking a ſurvey of all his forces, which com⯑poſed an army which was never equalled either before or ſince. It was compoſed of the moſt powerful nations of the Eaſt, and of people ſcarce known to poſterity except by name. The remoteſt India contributed its ſupplies, while the coldeſt tracts of Scythia ſent their aſſiſtance. Medes, Perſians, Bactrians, Ly⯑dians, Aſſyrians, Hyrcanians, and an hundred other countries of various forms, complexions, languages, dreſſes, and arms. The land army, which he brought out of Aſia, conſiſted of ſeventeen hundred thouſand foot, and four⯑ſcore thouſand horſe. Three hundred thouſand more that were added upon croſſing the Hel⯑leſpont, [125] made all his land forces together amount to above two millions of men. His fleet when it ſet out from Aſia, conſiſted of twelve hundred and ſeven veſſels, each carry⯑ing two hundred men. The Europeans aug⯑mented his fleet with an hundred and twenty veſſels, each of which carried two hundred men. Beſides theſe there were two thouſand ſmaller veſſels fitted for carrying proviſions and ſtores; the men contained in theſe, with the former, amounted to ſix hundred thou⯑ſand, ſo that the whole army might be ſaid to amount to two millions and an half, which, with the women, ſlaves, and futtlers, always accompanying a Perſian army, might make the whole above five mil⯑lions of ſouls: a number, if rightly con⯑ducted, capable of overturning the greateſt monarchy, but being commanded by pre⯑ſumption and ignorance, they only ſerved to obſtruct and embarraſs each other.

Lord of ſo many and ſuch various ſubjects, Xerxes found a pleaſure in reviewing his forces, and was deſirous of beholding a naval engagement, of which he had not hitherto been a ſpectator. To this end a throne was erected for him upon an eminence, and in that ſituation beholding all the earth covered [126] with his troops, and all the ſea crowded with his veſſels, he felt a ſecret joy diffuſe itſelf through his frame from the conſciouſneſs of his own ſuperior power. But all the workings of this monarch's mind were in extreme, a ſudden ſadneſs ſoon took place of his plea⯑ſure, and diſſolving in a ſhower of tears, he gave himſelf up to a reflection that not one of ſo many thouſand would be alive a hundred years after.

Artabanus, who neglected no opportunity of moralizing upon every occurrence, took this occaſion to diſcourſe with him upon the ſhortneſs and miſeries of human life. Finding this more diſtant ſubject attended to, he ſpoke more cloſely to the preſent occaſion, inſinuated his doubts of the ſucceſs of the expedition; urged the many inconveniencies the army had to ſuffer, if not from the enemy, at leaſt from their own numbers. He alledged, that plagues, famine, and confuſion, were the neceſſary at⯑tendants of ſuch ungovernable multitudes by land, and that empty fame was the only re⯑ward of ſucceſs. But it was now too late to turn this young monarch from his purpoſe. Xerxes informed his monitor that great actions were always attended with proportionable dan⯑ger, and that if his predeceſſors had obſerved ſuch [127] ſcrupulous and timorous rules of conduct, the Perſian empire would never have attained to its preſent height of glory.

Xerxes, in the mean time, had given or⯑ders for building a bridge of boats acroſs the Helleſpont for the tranſporting his army into Europe. This narrow ſtreight, which now goes by the name of the Dardanels, is near an Engliſh mile over. But ſoon after the com⯑pletion of this work, a violent ſtorm ariſing, the whole was broken and deſtroyed, and the labour was to be undertaken anew. The fury of Xerxes upon this diſappointment was at⯑tended with equal extravagance and cruelty. His vengeance knew no bounds; the work⯑men who had undertaken the taſk, had their heads ſtruck off by his order; and that the ſea itſelf alſo might know its duty, he or⯑dered it to be laſhed as a delinquent, and a pair of fetters to be thrown into it to curb its fu⯑ture irregularities. Thus having given vent to his abſurd reſentment, two bridges were or⯑dered to be built in the place of the former, one for the army to paſs over, and the other for the baggage and the beaſts of burthen. The workmen, now warned by the fate of their predeceſſors, undertook to give their la⯑bours greater ſtability, they placed three hun⯑dred [128] and ſixty veſſels acroſs the ſtreight, ſome of them having three banks of oars, and others fifty oars a piece. They then caſt large anchors into the water on both ſides, in order to fix theſe veſſels againſt the vio⯑lence of the winds, and the current. They then drove large piles into the earth, with huge rings faſtened to them, to which were tied ſix vaſt cables which went over each of the two bridges. Over all theſe they laid trunks of trees, cut purpoſely for that uſe, and flat boats again over them faſtened and joined together, ſo as to ſerve for a floor or ſolid bottom. When the whole work was thus completed, a day was appointed for their paſſ⯑ing over, and as ſoon as the firſt rays of the ſun began to appear, ſweet odours of all kinds were abundantly ſcattered over the new work, and the way was ſtrewed with myrtle. At the ſame time Xerxes poured out libations into the ſea, and turning his face towards the Eaſt, worſhipped that bright luminary which is the god of the Perſians. Then, throwing the veſſel which had held his libation into the ſea, together with a golden cup and Perſian ſcymetar, he went forward and gave orders for the army to follow. This immenſe train were no leſs than ſeven days and ſeven nights [129] paſſing over, while thoſe who were appointed to conduct the march quickened the troops by laſhing them along, for the ſoldiers of the Eaſt, at that time and to this very day, are treated like ſlaves.

Thus this immenſe army having landed in Europe, and being joined by the ſeveral na⯑tions of Europe that acknowledged the Perſian power, Xerxes prepared for marching directly forward into Greece. Beſide the generals of every nation, who each of them commanded the troops of their reſpective countries, the land army was commanded by ſix Perſian ge⯑nerals, to whom all the reſt were ſubordinate. Theſe were Mardonius, Tirintatechmus, Smer⯑donus, Maſſiſtus, Gergis, and Megabyzus. Ten thouſand Perſians, who were called the Immortal Band, were commanded by Hy⯑darnes, while the cavalry and the fleet had their own reſpective commanders. Beſide thoſe who were attached to Xerxes from prin⯑ciple, there were ſome Greek princes, who, either from motives of intereſt or fear, fol⯑lowed him in this expedition. Among theſe were Artemiſia, queen of Hallicarnaſſus, who, after the death of her huſband, governed the kingdom for her ſon. She had brought in⯑ [...]eed but the trifling ſuccour of five ſhips, but [130] ſhe had made ample amends by her ſuperior prudence, courage, and conduct. Of this number alſo was Demaratus, the exiled king of Sparta, who, reſenting the indignity put upon him by his ſubjects, took refuge in the Perſian court, an indignant ſpectator of its luxuries and ſlaviſh ſubmiſſion. Being one day aſked by Xerxes if he thought the Gre⯑cians would dare to await his approach, or would venture an engagement with armies that drank up whole rivers in their march. ‘Alas, great prince, cried Demaratus, Greece, from the beginning of time, has been trained up and accuſtomed to poverty; but the defects of that are amply recompenſed by virtue, which wiſdom cultivates, and the laws ſupport in vigour. As for the Lacedaemonians, as they have been bred up in freedom, they can never ſubmit to be ſlaves. Though all the reſt of the Greeks ſhould forſake them, though they ſhould be reduced to a band of a thou⯑ſand man, yet ſtill they would face every dan⯑ger to preſerve what they hold dearer than life. They have laws which they obey with more implicit reverence than your ſubjects are obeyed by you. By theſe laws they are forbid to fly in battle, and they have only the alternative to conquer or to die."’ Xerxes was not offended [131] with the liberty of Demaratus, but, ſmiling at his blunt ſincerity, ordered his army to march forward, while he had directed his fleet to follow him along the coaſt, and to regulate their courſe by his motions.

In this manner he purſued his courſe with⯑out any interruption, every nation near which he approached ſending him all the marks of homage and ſubjection. Wherever he came he found proviſions and refreſhments prepared before-hand, purſuant to the orders he had given. Every city he arrived at, exhauſted itſelf in giving him the moſt magnificent re⯑ception. The vaſt expence of theſe feaſts gave a poor Thracian an opportunity of re⯑marking, that it was a peculiar favour of the gods that Xerxes could eat but one meal a day. Thus did he continue his march through Thrace, Macedonia, and Theſſaly, every knee bending before him till he came to the ſtreights of Thermopylae, where he firſt found an army prepared to diſpute his paſſage.

This army was a body of Spartans, led on by Leonidas their king, who had been ſent thither to oppoſe him. As ſoon as it was known in Greece that Xerxes was preparing to invade that country, and that an army of millions were coming on with determined re⯑ſolution [132] to ruin it, every ſtate ſeemed dif⯑ferently affected in proportion to its ſtrength, its courage, or its ſituation. The Sicilians re⯑fuſed their aid, being kept in awe by Amilcar the Carthaginian. The Corcyreans pretended that they were wind-bound, and would not let their ſhips ſtir from the harbour. The Cre⯑tans, having conſulted the Delphic oracle, ab⯑ſolutely determined to remain inactive. The Theſſalians and Macedonians, from their ſitu⯑ation, were obliged to ſubmit to the conqueror, ſo that no ſtates were found bold enough to face this formidable army but Athens and Lacedaemon. Theſe ſtates had received intel⯑ligence of the Perſian deſigns from Demara⯑tus, long before they had been put into ex⯑ecution. They had alſo ſent ſpies to Sardis, in order to have a more exact information of the number and quality of the enemy's forces. The ſpies indeed were ſeized, but Xerxes or⯑dered them to be conducted through his army, and to give an exact account of what they had ſeen at their return. They had ſent deputies to all the neighbouring ſtates to awaken their ardour, to appriſe them of their danger, and to urge the neceſſity of fighting for their com⯑mon ſafety. But all their remonſtrances were vain; fear, aſſuming the name of prudence, [133] offered frivolous excuſes, or terms which were inadmiſſible. Relying therefore on their own ſtrength, theſe generous ſtates reſolved to face the danger with joint forces, and conquer or fall in the cauſe of freedom. Having ſum⯑moned a general council at the Iſthmus, they there ſolemnly reſolved to wave all private quarrels or pretenſions, and join againſt the common danger.

One cannot, without aſtoniſhment, reflect on the intrepidity of the Greeks, who deter⯑mined to face the innumerable army of Xerxes with ſuch diſproportioned forces. All their forces joined together amounted only to eleven thouſand two hundred men. But they were all ſoldiers, bred amidſt fatigue and danger, all determined to a man either to conquer or die. Their firſt care, however, was to appoint a general. It was then that the moſt able and experienced captains, terrified at the danger' had taken the reſolution of not preſenting themſelves as candidates. Epicydes indeed, a man of ignorance, avarice, and preſumption, was ready to lead them on, and, under his guidance, nothing could be hoped for but confuſion and diſappointment. In this preſſing juncture, therefore, Themiſtocles, conſcious of his own capacity, and warmed with a love [134] of glory, which was great in proportion to the danger, reſolved to uſe every art to get him⯑ſelf appointed to the command. For this purpoſe he uſed all his intereſt, and even diſ⯑tributed bribes to remove his competitor, and having gratified the avarice of Epycides, which was his ruling paſſion, he ſoon found himſelf appointed to the command, which was the darl⯑ing object of his ambition.

But in this preſſing exigence it was incum⯑bent on the Athenians to avail themſelves of every perſon that might be ſerviceable, how⯑ever obnoxious he might appear to their re⯑ſentment. There were many uſeful citizens whom they had, upon ſome factious diſcon⯑tents, ſent into baniſhment, and theſe they now repentingly wiſhed to reſtore. Among this number was Ariſtides, that brave and juſt man, who had, at the battle of Marathon, and upon other occaſions, been inſtrumental in gaining their victories, and who had, upon all occaſions, improved them by the diſintereſt⯑edneſs and integrity of his example. This magiſtrate having had many conteſts with Themiſtocles, who was his rival in power and ſame, and always wiſhed to ſupplant him, was at length condemned to go into baniſhment by the power of his prevailing faction. It was on [135] that occaſion that a peaſant, who could not write, and did not know Ariſtides perſonally, applied to himſelf, and deſired him to write the name of Ariſtides upon the ſhell by which his vote was given againſt him. ‘"Has he done you any wrong, ſaid Ariſtides, that you are for condemning him in this manner."’ ‘"No, replied the peaſant, but I hate to hear him praiſed for his juſtice."’ Ariſtides, without ſay⯑ing a word more, calmly took the ſhell, wrote down his own name upon it, and contentedly retired into baniſhment. But the preſent diſ⯑treſſes of his country were now an object that ſtrongly ſollicited his return. Even The⯑miſtocles, his rival, was ſo far from remem⯑bering his old reſentments, that he now ar⯑dently deſired the aſſiſtance of his counſel, and gave up all his private reſentments to the good of the ſtate. The hatred of theſe great men had nothing in it of that bitter and impla⯑cable ſpirit which prevailed among the Ro⯑mans in the latter times of the republic, or perhaps the deſperate ſituation of their coun⯑try might only occupy their thoughts at that time.

But the preparations by land alone were not ſufficient to repel the growing danger. If the Greeks had truſted to their land armies with⯑out [136] further ſuccour, they muſt have been un⯑done. Themiſtocles, who ſaw that the vic⯑tory of Marathon muſt be followed by many more before ſafety could be aſcertained, had prudently cauſed an hundred gallies to be built, and turned all his thoughts to give Athens a ſuperiority at ſea. The oracle had declared ſome time before that Athens ſhould only de⯑fend herſelf with wooden walls, and he took the advantage of that ambiguity to perſuade his countrymen, that by ſuch walls was only meant her ſhipping. He had the addreſs to procure ſome money annually coming in from ſilver mines, which the Athenians had in their diſtrict, to the purpoſes of equipping and manning this fleet, and now, upon the ap⯑proach of Xerxes, the confederates found themſelves at the head of a very powerful ſquadron of two hundred and eighty ſail, the command of which was conferred upon Eury⯑brades, a Lacedaemonian.

All meaſures being taken that this brave confederacy could deviſe, it next remained to ſettle in what place they ſhould firſt meet the Perſians in the field, in order to diſpute their entrance into Greece. The people of Theſ⯑ſaly repreſented that as they were moſt expoſed and firſt liable to be attacked by the enemy, [137] it was but reaſonable that their ſecurity ſhould be the firſt object of attention. The Greeks, willing to protect all who would declare in their quarrel, in purſuance of this requeſt, reſolved to ſend their chief forces to guard the paſſage which ſeparates Macedonia from Theſſaly, near the river Peneus. But Alexander, the ſon of Amyntas, repreſenting that poſt as unten⯑able, they were obliged to change their mea⯑ſures, and at laſt reſolved to ſend a body of men to guard the paſs at Thermopylae where a few were capable of acting againſt numbers.

Thermopylae was a narrow paſs of twenty-five feet broad, between Theſſaly and Phocis, defended by the remains of a wall, with gates to it, formerly built by the Phocians, to ſecure them againſt the incurſions of their neighbour⯑ing enemy. From theſe gates, and ſome hot baths, which were at the entrance into the paſs, the ſtreight had its name. This was pitched upon, as well for the narrowneſs of the way, as for its vicinity to the ſea, from whence the land forces could occaſionally receive aſ⯑ſiſtance from the fleet. The command of this important paſs was given to Leonidas, one of the kings of Sparta, who led thither a body of ſix thouſand men. Of theſe, three hundred [138] were Spartans, the reſt conſiſting of Baeotians, Corinthians, Phocians, and Arcadians, all ſuch as in the preſent exigency were prepared for the field, and were not afraid of the numbers of the enemy. Each of theſe had particular commanders of their own, but Leonidas had the conduct of the whole. But though the determined reſolution of theſe troops was in⯑capable of being ſhaken, little was expected from the nature of their deſtination. They were all along taught to look upon themſelves as a forelorn hope, only placed there to check the progreſs of the enemy, and give them a foretaſte of the deſperate valour of Greece; nor were even oracles wanting to check their ardour. It had been declared, that to procure the ſafety of Greece it was neceſſary that a king, one of the deſcendants of Hercules, ſhould die. This taſk was chearfully undertaken by Leoni⯑das; and, as he marched out from Lacedae⯑mon, he conſidered himſelf as a willing victim offered up for the good of his country: how⯑ever, he joyfully put himſelf at the head of his little band, took poſſeſſion of his poſt, and with deliberate deſperation waited at Thermo⯑pylae for the coming up of the Perſian army.

Xerxes, in the mean time, approaching with his numerous army, fluſhed with ſucceſs, [139] and confident of victory. His camp exhibit⯑ed all the marks of eaſtern magnificence and Aſiatic luxury. He expected to meet no ob⯑ſtruction on his way to Greece; he led on his forces rather to terrify the enemy than to fight them; great, therefore, was his ſurprize, to find that a few deſperate men were determined to diſpute his paſſage. He had all along flat⯑tered himſelf, that on the firſt hearing of his arrival, the Grecians would betake themſelves to flight, nor could he ever be perſuaded to be⯑lieve what Demaratus had aſſured him, that at the firſt paſs he came to, his whole army would be put to a ſtand. He himſelf took a view of their camp and entrenchments. The Lacedae⯑monians were ſome of them calmly amuſing themſelves with military exerciſes, others with combing their long hair. He enquired the reaſon of this conduct, and he was informed, that it was the Spartan manner of preparing themſelves for battle. Still, however, enter⯑taining ſome hopes of their flight, he wait⯑ed four days to give them time to reflect on the greatneſs of their danger, but they ſtill continued gay and unconcerned, as men who regarded death as the end of labour. He ſent to them to deliver up their arms. Leonidas, with truly Spartan contempt, deſired him to [140] come and take them. He offered, if they would lay down their arms, to receive them as friends, and to give them a country much larger and better than what they fought for. No coun⯑try, they replied, was worth acceptance, un⯑leſs won by virtue; and that for their arms, they ſhould want them, whether as his friends or enemies. Upon this, the monarch addreſſ⯑ed himſelf to Demaratus, aſking, if theſe deſ⯑perate men could expect to out-run his horſes? Demaratus anſwered, that they would fight it out to the laſt, and not a man of them would ſur⯑vive his country's freedom. Some men were heard to ſay, that the Perſians were ſo numerous, that their darts would darken the ſun. Dieneces, a Spartan, replied, Then we ſhall fight in the ſhade.

Xerxes, thus treated with contempt, at length ordered a body of Medes to advance, deſiring ſuch as had loſt any of their relations at the battle of Marathon, to take their re⯑venge upon the preſent occaſion. According⯑ly they began the onſet, but were repulſed with great loſs. The number of the aſſailants only ſerved to encreaſe their confuſion, and it now began to appear that Xerxes had many followers, but few ſoldiers. Theſe forces being routed by the Grecian troops, the Perſian Immortal Band was brought up, [141] conſiſting of ten thouſand men, to oppoſe them. But theſe were as unſucceſsful as the former. The charge was renewed the next day, Xerxes endeavouring to inſpire his troops with the promiſes of reward, ſince he found they were dead to the ſenſe of ſhame. But though their charge was violent, it was unſup⯑ported, and the Greeks ſtanding cloſely con⯑nected in a body, withſtood the ſhock, and fill⯑ed the way with Perſian carcaſſes. During theſe unſucceſsful aſſaults, Xerxes was a ſpectator, ſitting upon his throne, placed upon an emi⯑nence, and directing the order of battle, im⯑petuous in his pride and reſentment, and now and then ſeen to leap from his ſeat when he be⯑held his troops in confuſion, or offering to give way.

Thus did the Greeks keep their ground for two days, and no power on earth ſeemed cap⯑able of removing them from their advantage⯑ous ſtation. Xerxes, out of all hopes of being able to force a paſſage, appeared under the greateſt conſternation; but he was relieved from his embarraſſment by the appearance of Epialtes, a Trachinian, who had deſerted from the enemy, and undertook to ſhew his troops a ſecret path that led through the defiles of the mountains, and through which a body [142] of forces might be led to fall upon the Greci⯑ans in the rear. He quickly, therefore, diſ⯑patched a body of twenty thouſand men thither, who marching all night, arrived at the break of day at the top of the mountain, and poſſeſſ⯑ed themſelves of that advantageous poſt.

The Greeks were ſoon appriſed of this miſ⯑fortune, and Leonidas ſeeing that his poſt was no longer tenable, adviſed the troops of his allies to retire, and reſerve themſelves for bet⯑ter times, and the future ſafety of Greece. As for himſelf, and his fellow Spartans, they were obliged by their laws not to fly; that he owed a life to his country, and that it was now his duty to fall in its defence. Thus, having diſ⯑miſſed all but his three hundred Spartans, with ſome Theſpians and Thebans, in all not a thou⯑ſand men, he exhorted his followers in the moſt chearful manner to prepare for death. ‘Come, my fellow ſoldiers, ſays he, lets us dine chear⯑fully here, for to-night we ſhall ſup with Pluto.’ His men upon hearing his determined pur⯑poſe, ſet up a loud ſhout, as if they had been invited to a banquet, and reſolved every man to ſell his life as dearly as he could. The night now began to advance, and this was thought the moſt glorious opportunity of meeting death in the enemy's camp, where [143] the ſilence would favour deſperation, and hide the ſmallneſs of their numbers. Thus reſolv⯑ed, they made directly to the Perſian tents, and, in the darkneſs of the night, had almoſt reached the royal pavilion, with hopes of ſur⯑priſing the king. The obſcurity added much to the horror of the ſcene, and the Perſians fall⯑ing upon each other without diſtinction, rather aſſiſted the Grecians than defended themſelves. Thus ſucceſs ſeemed to crown the raſhneſs of their enterprize, until the morning beginning to dawn, the light diſcovered the ſmallneſs of their numbers. They were ſoon, therefore, ſurrounded by the Perſian forces, who, fear⯑ing to fall in upon them, flung their javelins from every quarter, till the Greeks, not ſo much conquered, as tired with conquering, fell amidſt heaps of the ſlaughtered enemy, leaving behind them an example of intrepidity never known before. Leonidas was one of the firſt that fell, and the endeavours of the Lace⯑daemonians to defend his dead body were incre⯑dible. It was found after the battle, buried under a mountain of the dead, and was nailed to a croſs, by way of infamy, by the brutal victor. Of all the train, two only eſcaped, whoſe names were Ariſtodemus and Panites. The latter, upon his return to Sparta, was [144] branded with infamy, and treated with ſuch contempt, that he killed himſelf. Ariſtode⯑mus reſerved himſelf for another occaſion, and by his bravery at the battle of Platea recovered that honour which he had loſt. Some time after this tranſaction the Amphyctions ordered a magnificent monument to be erected over theſe brave defenders of their country, and Si⯑monides, the poet, wrote their epitaph.

Xerxes in this battle is ſaid to have loſt twenty thouſand men, among which were two of his brothers. But to conceal the greatneſs of his loſs from the army, he cauſed all but a thouſand of thoſe that were ſlain, to be buried in holes indiſcriminately; however, this ſtrata⯑gem had very bad ſucceſs, for when the ſoldiers of his fleet were curious ſome time after in tak⯑ing a ſurvey of the field of battle, they diſco⯑vered the artifice, and urged it as an act of fla⯑grant impiety againſt him.

Diſmayed at an obſtinacy in the enemy that coſt him ſo dear, Xerxes was for ſome time more inclined to try his fortune at ſea, than to proceed immediately into the country, where he had learned from Demaratus, that eight thouſand Spartans, ſuch as he had but lately fought with, were ready to receive him. Ac⯑cordingly, the very day of the battle of Thermo⯑pylae, [145] there was an engagement at ſea between the two fleets. The Grecian fleet conſiſted of two hundred and ſeventy-one veſſels. That of the enemy had lately loſt four hundred veſſels in a ſhipwreck, but was ſtill greatly ſuperior to the fleet of the Grecians. To repair this loſs by a victory, two hundred Perſian veſſels had orders to take a compaſs and ſurprize the Grecians lying in the ſtreights of Eubaea, but the Grecians being apprized of their deſigns, ſet ſail by night, and ſo, by a counter-ſurprize, fell in with them while they were thus ſepa⯑rated from their main ſquadron, took and ſunk thirty, forced the reſt to ſea, and there, by ſtreſs of weather, they were all ſoon after ei⯑ther ſunk or ſtranded. Enraged at theſe diſ⯑appointments, the Perſians bore down the next day with their whole fleet, and drawing up in form of an half moon, made an offer of battle, which the Greeks as readily accepted. The Athenians, having been reinforced with three and ſiſty ſail, the battle was very obſti⯑nate and bloody, and the ſucceſs pretty near equal on both ſides, ſo that both parties ſeemed content to retire in good order.

All theſe actions which paſſed near Arte⯑miſa, though at that time indeciſive, yet ſerved not a little to animate and inſpire the Athe⯑nians, [146] who were now taught to think that there was nothing either formidable in the numbers, or uſeful in the ſize of the Perſian ſhips. Thus ſtrengthening themſelves with the hopes of more ſplendid engagements, they ſailed away from Artemiſa and ſtopped at Salamis, where they might moſt conveniently aſſiſt the Athe⯑nians.

In the mean time Xerxes having entered with his numerous army into the country of Phocis, burning and plundering every town through which he paſſed. The inhabitants of Peloponneſus, who were naturally defended by their inacceſſible ſituation, as their country was joined to the continent only by a neck of land, thought it the moſt prudent way to de⯑fend the iſthmus by a wall, to take ſhelter be⯑hind that rampart, and to leave the reſt of Greece to the mercy of the conqueror. The Athenians, however, whoſe country lay with⯑out the Iſthmus, remonſtrated loudly againſt this deſertion, and endeavoured to perſuade the Greeks to face the enemy in the plain. But prudence prevailed, and Themiſtocles gave them to underſtand that though their country ſhould be for a while over-run by the barbarous invader, yet they had ſtill their wooden walls to rely on, for their fleet was [147] ready to tranſport them to ſuch of their ſettle⯑ments as they thought proper. At firſt, how⯑ever, this advice was the moſt hateful that could be imagined. The people thought themſelves inevitably loſt if they ſhould once abandon the temples of their gods, and the tombs of their anceſtors. But Themiſtocles uſing all his eloquence and addreſs to work upon their paſſions, repreſented to them that Athens did not conſiſt either of its walls or its houſes but of its citizens, and that the ſaving of theſe was the true preſervation of the ſtate. A decree therefore was paſſed, by which it was ordained, that Athens for a while ſhould be given up in truſt to the gods, and that all the inhabitants, whether in freedom or ſlavery, ſhould embark on board the fleet. In this ca⯑lamitous deſertion Cimon, though very young, was ſeen encouraging the citizens by his words and example. Bearing in his hands a part of his horſe's furniture, he went to offer it as now uſeleſs in the temple of Minerva, and then going down to the water-ſide was the firſt that cheerfully went on board. When he was followed by the reſt of the city, ſo moving and melancholy a ſight drew tears even from the moſt obdurate. A brave, generous, po⯑lite, and ancient people, now forced from their [148] native ſeats to undergo all the viciſſitudes and dangers of the ſea, to implore a retreat from fo⯑reign ſtates, and give up their native lands to the ſpoiler was a moſt moving ſpectacle. Yet the ſtea⯑dineſs and courage of ſome, and the pious reſig⯑nation of all, demanded the utmoſt admiration. The young and adventurous embarked for Sa⯑lamis, the old, the women, and children, took ſhelter at the city of Trezene, the inhabitants of which generouſly offered them an aſylum. They even allowed them a maintenance at the ex⯑pence of the public, permitted their children to gather fruit wherever they pleaſed, and ap⯑pointed maſters for their inſtruction. But in this general deſertion, that which extremely raiſed the compaſſion of all, was the great number of old men they were obliged to leave in the city on account of their age and infir⯑mities. Many alſo voluntarily remained be⯑hind, believing that the citadel which they had fortiſied with wooden ramparts, was what the oracle pointed out for general ſecurity. To heighten this ſcene of general diſtreſs, the matrons were ſeen clinging with fond affection to the places in which they had ſo long reſided, the wives filled the ſtreets with loud lamen⯑tations, and even the poor domeſtic animals ſeemed to take a part in the general concern. [149] It was impoſſible to ſee theſe poor creatures run howling and crying after their maſters, who were going on ſhipboard, without being ſtrongly aſfected. Among theſe, the faithful⯑neſs of a particular dog is recorded, who jumped into the ſea after his maſter, and con⯑tinued ſwimming as near as he could to the veſſel till he landed at Salamis, and died the moment after upon the ſhore. Thoſe few in⯑habitants that remained behind retired into the citadel, where, literally interpreting the oracle, they fortified it as well as they could, and pa⯑tiently awaited the invader's approach.

Whilſt Xerxes was continuing his march, he was told that the Grecians were employed in ſeeing the games and combats then celebrating at Olympia. It was not without indignation that he found his power ſo little able to ter⯑rify his enemies, or interrupt their amuſe⯑ments. Having ſent off a conſiderable de⯑tachment of his army to plunder the temple at Delphos, with the reſt he marched down into Attica, where he found Athens deſerted of all but a few in the citadel. Theſe men deſpairing of ſuccour, and unwilling to ſur⯑vive the loſs of their country, would liſten to no terms of accommodation; they boldly withſtood the firſt aſſault, and, warmed by [150] the enthuſiaſm of religion, began to hope for ſucceſs. But a ſecond aſſault carried their feeble out-works, they were all put to the ſword, and the citadel reduced to aſhes. Fluſhed with this ſucceſs, Xerxes immediately diſpatched a meſſenger to Suſa with the news of his victories, and, at the ſame time, ſent him a great number of pictures and ſtatues, among which were thoſe of Harmodius and Ariſtogiton.

In the mean time, the confederate Greeks ſummoned a council of war to conſult upon the proper manner and place of oppoſing this barbarous inundation. With reſpect to the operations by land, it was univerſally deter⯑mined to defend the iſthmus by a wall, and Cleombrotus, the brother of Leonidas, was appointed to command that ſtation; but as to the operations at ſea, theſe were not ſo generally agreed on. Eurybiades the Spartan, who was appointed to the command of the fleet, was for having it advance near the iſth⯑mus, that it might co-operate with the army at land, but Themiſtocles was entirely of an⯑other opinion, and aſſerted, that it would be the moſt manifeſt error to abandon ſo advan⯑tageous a poſt as that of Salamis, where they were then ſtationed. They were now, he ſaid, in [151] poſſeſſion of the narrow ſeas, where the num⯑ber of the enemy could never avail them; that the only hope now left the Athenians was their fleet, and that this muſt not be capriciouſly given up by ignorance to the enemy. Eurybiades, who conſidered himſelf as glanced at, could not contain his reſent⯑ment, but offered to ſtrike Themiſtocles for his inſolence. ‘Strike me, cried the Athenian, ſtrike me, but hear me.’ His moderation and his reaſoning prevailed, the generals were re⯑conciled to each other, and the reſult of the council was, that they ſhould prepare to re⯑ceive the Perſians on the Iſthmus by land, and in the ſtreights of Salamis by ſea.

Mean while Xerxes, after having demoliſhed and burnt Athens, marched down toward the ſea to act in conjunction with his fleet, which he had determined ſhould once more come to an engagement with that of the enemy. This was what Themiſtocles moſt ardently deſired in his preſent ſituation, but he was fearful his confederates would not have courage to abide the encounter. Their thoughts were ſtill bent upon ſailing towards the iſthmus, and aſſiſting their army in caſe of diſtreſs. Themiſtocles, therefore, in this exigence, was obliged to have recourſe to one of thoſe ſtratagems which [152] mark ſuperiority of genius; he contrived to let Xerxes privately underſtand, that the con⯑federates were now aſſembled at Salamis pre⯑paring for flight, and that it would be an eaſy taſk to attack and deſtroy them. This infor⯑mation was attended with the deſired ſucceſs. Xerxes gave orders to his fleet to ſurround Salamis by night, in order to prevent an eſcape which he ſo much dreaded.

In this manner the Grecian fleet was blocked up, and no ſafety remained but in intrepidity and conqueſt. Even Themiſtocles himſelf was not apprized of the ſituation of his own forces and that of the enemy, all the narrow ſtreights were blocked up, and the reſt of the Perſian fleet was ſent for, to make every paſſage im⯑practicable. In this exigence Ariſtides, in whoſe boſom the love of his country always prevailed over every private revenge, was re⯑ſolved to venture all, in order to apprize The⯑miſtocles of his ſituation and danger. He was then at Egina, where he had ſome forces under his command, and with very great dan⯑ger ventured in a ſmall boat through all the fleet of the enemies by night. Upon landing he made up to the tent of Themiſtocles, and addreſſed him in the following manner: ‘"If we are wiſe, Themiſtocles, we ſhall henceſorth [153] lay aſide thoſe vain and puerile diſſenſions which have thitherto ſeparated us. One ſtrife, and a noble emulation it is, now re⯑mains for us, which of us ſhall be moſt ſerviceable to our country. It is yours to command as a general, it is mine to obey as a ſubject, and happy ſhall I be, if my ad⯑vice can any way contribute to your and my country's glory."’ He then informed him of the fleet's real ſituation, and warmly exhorted him to give battle without delay. Themiſto⯑cles felt all that generous gratitude which ſo diſintereſted a conduct demanded, and eager to ſhew a return of noble friendſhip, let him into all his projects and aims, particularly this laſt, of ſuffering himſelf to be ſurrounded. After this they uſed their joint authority with the other commanders to perſuade them to engage, and accordingly both fleets prepared themſelves for battle.

The Grecian fleet conſiſted of three hundred and eighty ſhips, the Perſian fleet was much more numerous. But whatever advantage they had in numbers, and the ſize of their ſhipping, they fell infinitely ſhort of the Greeks in their naval ſkill, and their acquain⯑ance with the ſeas where they fought; but it was particularly in their commander that the Greeks [154] had the advantage. Eurybiades had nominal⯑ly the conduct of the fleet, but Themiſtocles in reality conducted all their operations. No⯑thing eſcaped his vigilance, and he knew how to improve every incident to the greateſt ad⯑vantage. He, therefore, deferred the onſet until a wind, which at that time of the year was periodical, and which he knew would be fa⯑vourable, ſet in. As ſoon as this aroſe, the ſignal was given for battle, and the Grecian fleet ſailed forward in exact order.

Xerxes imputing his former ill ſucceſs at ſea to his own abſence, was reſolved to be a wit⯑neſs of the preſent engagement from the top of a promontory, where he cauſed a throne to be erected for that purpoſe. This ſerved in ſome meaſure to animate his forces, who, conſcious of their king's obſervance, reſolved to merit his applauſe. The Perſians, therefore, ad⯑vanced with ſuch courage and impetuoſity, as ſtruck the enemy with terror, but their ardour abated when the engagement became cloſer. The numerous diſadvantages of their circum⯑ſtances and ſituation then began to appear. The wind blew directly in their faces; the height and heavineſs of their veſſels rendered them unwieldy and uſeleſs, even the number of their ſhips in the narrow ſea where they [155] fought, only ſerved to embarraſs and encreaſe their confuſion. The Ionians, whom Themiſ⯑tocles had implored by characters engraven along the rocks of their coaſt, to remember from whence they derived their original, were the firſt who betook themſelves to flight. In the other wing the conteſt was for ſome time doubtful, until the Phoenicians and Cyprians being driven on ſhore, the reſt retired in great diſorder, and fell foul of each other in their retreat. In this total defection, Artemiſa alone ſeemed to ſtop the progreſs of victory; and, at the head of her five ſhips, performed incredi⯑ble acts of valour. Xerxes, who was a ſpecta⯑tor of her conduct, could not help crying out, that his ſoldiers behaved like women in the conſlict, and the women like ſoldiers. As this queen, from her ſignal intrepidity, was become very obnoxious to the Athenians, a price had been ſet upon her head; ſenſible of which, as ſhe was upon the point of falling into their hands, by a lucky turn of thought, ſhe pretended to deſert from her own party, and to fall foul of one of their ſhips; the Grecks thus concluding, that ſhe either belonged to them, or was a deſerter, permitted her to eſcape. In the mean time, the confederates purſued the Perſian fleet on every ſide; ſome [156] were intercepted at the ſtreights of Attica, many were ſunk, and more taken. Above two hundred were burnt, all the reſt were diſ⯑perſed; and the allies dreading the reſentment of the Greeks, as well as of the Perſian king, made the beſt of their way to their own country.

Such was the ſucceſs of the battle of Salamis, in which the Perſians had received a ſeverer blow than they had ever hitherto experienced from Greece. Themiſtocles, in a ſecret con⯑verſation with Ariſtides, was, or pretended to be ſo elated, as to propoſe breaking down the bridge by which Xerxes had made his way into Europe. Whether Themiſtocles was really ſincere in the propoſal, remains a doubt, but Ariſtides uſed all his powers to perſuade his coadjutor from ſuch an undertaking. He repreſented to him the danger of reducing ſo powerful an enemy to deſperation, and aſſert⯑ed, that it was his wiſh to be relieved from ſuch an intruder with all poſſible diſpatch. Themiſtocles at once acquieſced in his reaſons; and, in order to haſten the king's departure, contrived to have him ſecretly informed that the Grecians deſigned to break down the bridge.

The ſituation of Xerxes was ſuch, that the ſmalleſt repulſe was now ſufficient to wean him [157] from his darling expedition. Aſtoniſhed at the late overthrow, and alarmed at this new information, he only wanted a decent oppor⯑tunity to retreat, when Mardonius came con⯑veniently to extricate him from his embarraſſ⯑ments. He began by extenuating the late loſs, and the many expedients that remained to re⯑lieve their ſituation, he laid all the blame of their defeat upon the cowardice of the auxilia⯑ries, and their inſincere attachment to his cauſe. He adviſed him to return ſpeedily to his kingdom, leſt the fame of his ill-ſucceſs, which always repreſents things worſe than they are, ſhould occaſion any commotions in his abſence. He engaged, if he would leave him three hundred thouſand of his choice troops, to ſubdue all Greece with glory. On the other hand, if the event proved otherwiſe, he would take all the blame of miſcarriage, and ſuffer in perſon if it were to retrieve the honour of his maſter. This advice was very well received by Xerxes, who, thinking enough had been given to glory, when he had made himſelf maſter of Athens, prepared to return to Perſia at the head of a part of his army, leaving the other part of it with Mardonius, not ſo much with the hope of reducing Greece, as through the fear of be⯑ing purſued.

[158] Theſe reſolutions were communicated in a council held ſoon after the fight, and the night following the fleet ſet ſail in great confuſion to⯑wards the Helleſpont, and took up their win⯑ter quarters at Cuma. The king himſelf, leaving his generals to take care of the army, haſtened with a ſmall retinue to the ſea-ſide, which he reached forty-five days after the battle of Salamis. When he arrived at the place, he found the bridge broken down by the violence of the waves in a tempeſt that had lately happened there. He was, therefore, obliged to paſs the ſtreight in a ſmall boat, which manner of returning, being compared to the oſtentatious method in which he had ſet out, rendered his diſgrace ſtill more poignant and afflicting. The army which he had or⯑dered to follow him, having been unprovided with proviſions, ſuffered great hardſhips by the way. After having conſumed all the corn they could find, they were obliged to live upon herbs, and even upon the bark and leaves of trees. Thus harraſſed and fatigued, a peſtilence begun to complete their miſery; and, after a fatiguing journey of forty-five days, in which they were purſued rather by vultures and beaſts of prey, than by men, they came to the Helleſpont, where they croſſed over, and [159] marched from thence to Sardis. Such was the end of Xerxes' expedition into Greece. A mea⯑ſure begun in pride, and terminating in infamy. It is to be obſerved, however, that we have all this account from the Greek writers only, who no doubt have been partial to their country⯑men. I am told, that the Perſian hiſtorians repreſent this expedition in a very different light, and ſay that the king was recalled in the midſt of his ſucceſſes to quell an inſurrection at home. Be this as it will, the affairs of Perſia ſeemed after that to go backward, until the time when Alexander led a conquering army of Greeks to invade them in turn.

CHAP. V. From the Retreat of XERXES to the Peace concluded between the GREEKS and PERSIANS.

A. M. 3524. THE earlieſt object the Greeks took care of after the battle of Salamis, was to ſend the firſt fruits of the rich ſpoil they had taken from the Perſians to Delphos. Conſidered in a con⯑federated light, they were ever attentive to the duties of religion; and though their ſects and opinions in philoſophy, taught mankind to [160] entertain but very mean ideas of the objects of public worſhip, yet it was religion that form⯑ed their bond of union, and for a while held them feebly together. When that bond came to be broken, and the council of the Amphyc⯑tions became rather a political than a religious aſſembly, the general union no longer prevail⯑ed, and the different ſtates fell a ſacrifice to their own contentions.

The joy of the Greeks upon this victory was general and loud; every commander had his ſhare of honour, but the glory of Themiſtocles eclipſed that of all the reſt. It was a cuſtom in Greece, that after a battle the commanding officers ſhould declare who had diſtinguiſhed themſelves moſt, by writing the names of ſuch as merited the firſt and ſecond rewards. On this occaſion each officer concerned adjudged the firſt rank to himſelf, but all allowed the ſecond to Themiſtocles, which was, in fact, a tacit ſuperiority. This was farther confirmed by the Lacedaemonians, who carried him in triumph to Sparta; and having adjudged the rewards of valour to their own countryman, Eurybiades, adjudged that of wiſdom to The⯑miſtocles. They crowned him with olive, preſented him with a rich chariot, and con⯑ducted him with three hundred horſe to the [161] confines of their ſtate. But ſtill there was an homage paid him that flattered his pride yet more: when he appeared at the Olympic games, the ſpectators received him with un⯑common acclamations. As ſoon as he appear- the whole aſſembly roſe up to do him honour: nobody regarded either the games or the com⯑batants, Themiſtocles was the only ſpectacle worth their attention. Struck with ſuch flat⯑tering honours, he could not help obſerving, that he that day reaped the fruits of all his labours.

After the Grecians were returned from pur⯑ſuing the Perſian fleet, Themiſtocles ſailed to all the iſlands that had eſpouſed their intereſts, in order to levy contributions. The firſt he applied to was that of Andros, from whoſe in⯑habitants he required a conſiderable ſum. ‘I come, ſaid he, to you accompanied by two very powerful divinities, Perſuaſion and Neceſſity.’ ‘Alas! replied they, we alſo have divinities on our ſide, Poverty and Impoſſibility.’ In conſequence of this reply, he blocked them up for ſome time, but finding them too well fortified, he was obliged to retire. Some other iſlands, however, were neither furniſhed with ſo much reaſon or ſo much power. He exacted large ſums from all ſuch as were incapable of oppoſition; and [162] theſe contributions he chiefly converted to his own private advantage, thus ſhewing in his own character two very oddly aſſorted qualities, ava⯑rice and ambition.

In the mean time, Mardonius, who remain⯑ed in Greece with a body of three hundred thouſand men, paſſed the winter in Theſſaly; and, in the beginning of ſpring, led them down into the province of Boeotia. From thence he ſent Alexander, king of Macedonia, with a ſplendid retinue to Athens, to make propoſals for an accommodation, and to endea⯑vour to make them ſeparate their intereſts from the general cauſe of Greece. He offered to re⯑build their city, to give them a conſiderable ſum of money, to ſuffer them to enjoy their laws and conſtitution, and to give them the government of all Greece. Ariſtides was at that time in the higheſt office, being principal archon at Athens. It was in his preſence that the king of Macedon made his propoſals, and that the deputies from the other ſtates of Greece endeavoured to avert the force of them. But Ariſtides wanted no prompter but the na⯑tural dictates of his own heart to give them an anſwer. ‘"To men, ſaid he, bred up to plea⯑ſure and ignorance, it is natural to proſſer great rewards, and to hope by bribes to buy off [163] virtue. Barbarians who make ſilver and gold the chief objects of their eſteem, may be ex⯑cuſed for thinking to corrupt the fidelity of every people, but that the Lacedaemonians, who came to remonſtrate againſt theſe offers, ſhould ſuppoſe they could prevail was in⯑deed ſurpriſing. The Athenians have the common liberty of Greece intruſted to their care, and mountains of gold are not able to ſhake its fidelity. No, ſo long as that ſun which the Perſians adore continues to ſhine with wonted ſplendor, ſo long ſhall the Athenians be mortal enemies to the Perſians, ſo long ſhall they continue to purſue them for ravaging their lands, for burning their houſes, and po⯑luting their temples: ſuch is the anſwer we return to the Perſian propoſal; and you," con⯑tinued he, addreſſing himſelf to Alexander, "if you are truly their friend, refrain for the fu⯑ture from being the bearer of ſuch propoſals, your honour, and perhaps even your ſafety demands it."’

All treaty being thus broke up, Mardonius prepared to act with vigour, and invaded Atti⯑ca, which the Athenians were once more ob⯑liged to deſert and leave to his fury. He en⯑tered Athens ten months after it had been taken by Xerxes, the inhabitants having again [164] conveyed themſelves to Salamis, and other neighbouring places. In that ſtate of exile and want, they continued contented with all their ſufferings, ſince repaid by freedom. Even Lycidas, a ſenator, who attempted to propoſe a ſubmiſſion, was ſtoned to death, while his wife and children met with the ſame fate from the women, ſo ſtrong was the averſion which the Athenians had conceived againſt all com⯑munications with Perſia.

In the mean time, the Spartans, whoſe duty it was to co-operate with the Athenians with equal ardour, unmindful of the general cauſe, only thought of making preparations for their own ſecurity, and reſolved to fortify the iſthmus, in order to hinder the enemy from entering into Peloponneſus. This the Atheni⯑ans conſidered as a baſe and ungrateful defec⯑tion, and ſent deputies to remonſtrate againſt the Spartan conduct. Theſe had orders to ſay, that if Sparta would perſiſt in its partial method of ſeeking ſecurity, the Athenians would follow their example; and, inſtead of ſuffering all for Greece, would turn with their ſleet to the Perſians, who being thus maſters of the ſea, could invade the territory of Sparta whenever they ſhould think proper. Theſe menaces had ſo good an effect, that five thou⯑ſand [165] men were privately diſpatched, each at⯑tended with ſeven Helotes, and were actually upon their march before the Spartans gave the Athenian deputies any anſwer.

Mardonius had left Attica at this time, and was on his return to the country of Boeotia, where he reſolved to await the approach of the enemy, as he could there draw up his forces with greater eaſe than in the hilly parts of Attica, where a few might be oppoſed to numbers with greater ſucceſs. He encamped by the river Aſopus, along the banks of which his army extended, conſiſting of three hundred thouſand fighting men.

Great as this army was, the Greeks, with much inferior forces, reſolved to meet it in the field. Their forces were by this time aſ⯑ſembled, and amounted to ſeventy thouſand men. Of theſe, five thouſand were Spartans, attended by thirty-five thouſand Helotes. The Athenians amounted to eight thouſand, and the troops of the allies made up the remainder. In the right wing of this army the Spartans were placed, commanded by Cleombrotus, in the left wing the Athenians, with Ariſtides at their head. In this order they followed Mar⯑donius into Boeotia, determined on trying the fate of a battle, and encamped at no great [166] diſtance from them, at the foot of Mount Cythaeron. Here they continued for ſome time, awaiting in dreadful ſuſpenſe a battle that was to determine the fate of Greece. Some ſkirmiſhing between the Perſian cavalry and the wing of the Grecian army, in which the latter were ſucceſsful, ſeemed to give a preſage of future victory, which, however, for ten days neither ſide ſeemed willing to ſtrike for.

While the two armies were thus oppoſed, waiting the moſt favourable opportunity of engaging, the Greeks, by their mutual diſſen⯑ſions, were upon the point of loſing their free⯑dom in ſatisfying their mutual jealouſy. The firſt diſpute that aroſe in the army, was begun by the Tegeans, who contended with the Athe⯑nians upon the point of precedence. They willingly allowed the Spartans the command of the right wing, as they conſtantly had it, but they inſiſted on having the left, alledging, that they had earned it by former acts of va⯑lour and well known ſucceſs. The diſpute ran high, a mutinous diſpoſition began to prevail in all parts of the army, and the enemy were likely to become victorious without a blow. In this general ſpirit of diſſenſion, Ariſtides alone appeared unmoved. Long noted for [167] his impartiality and juſtice, all parties fixed their eyes upon him as the only moderator from whom they could expect ſatisfaction. Wherefore, turning himſelf to the Spartans, and ſome of the reſt of the confederates, he addreſſed them in the following manner. ‘"It is not now a time, my friends, to diſpute of the merit of paſt ſervices, for all boaſting is vain in the day of danger. Let it be the brave man's pride to reſt aſſured, that it is not the poſt or ſtation which gives courage, or which can take it away. I head the Athenians, what⯑ever poſt you ſhall aſſign us we will maintain it, and make our ſtation, wherever we are placed, the poſt of true honour and military glory. We are come hither not to contend with our friends, but to fight with our ene⯑mies; not to boaſt of our anceſtors, but to imitate them. This battle will diſtinguiſh the particular merit of each city, each commander, and even the loweſt centinel will ſhare the ho⯑nour of the day."’ This ſpeech determined the council of war in favour of the Athenians, who, thereupon, were allowed to maintain their for⯑mer ſtation.

A fatal conſpiracy in the midſt of the Athe⯑nians threatened conſequences ſtill more danger⯑ous, as they were unſeen. Some of the beſt and [168] richeſt families, who had waſted their fortunes in the war, and loſt their credit in the city, en⯑tered into a confederacy to deliver up Greece into the hands of the Perſians Ariſtides, however, ſtill watchful in the ſervice of the ſtate, was early informed of their machinations, and inſtantly laid their ſchemes before the ge⯑neral council. Notwithſtanding he was con⯑tented with having eight of the conſpirators arreſted; and, of theſe, two only were reſerved for trial. Yet his lenity, or, to call it by a truer name, his prudence, would not permit him to act rigorouſly even againſt theſe; as he knew that ſeverity in times of general danger would but depreſs the ardour of the army, he permitted them to eſcape, and thus ſacrificed public juſtice to public ſecurity.

Both armies had now continued for ten days in ſight of each other, in anxious expectation of an engagement, both willing to begin, yet afraid to ſtrike, as the aggreſſor was to engage at a diſadvantage. But Mardonius being na⯑turally of an impatient, fiery diſpoſition, grew very uneaſy at ſo long a delay. Beſides, he had only few proviſions left for his army, and the Grecians grew every day ſtronger by the addition of freſh ſupplies. He, therefore, called a council of war to deliberate whether [169] he ſhould give battle. Artabazus, a perſon of ſingular merit and great experience, was of opinion that they ſhould not hazard a battle, but that they ſhould retire under the walls of Thebes, while the enemy, formed of various troops, and ſubject to different leaders, would deſtroy each other by their own diſſenſions, or might be partly corrupted to give up the common cauſe. This opinion was the moſt reaſonable, but Mardonius, ſpurred on by his natural impetuoſity, and wearied with a pro⯑tracted war, reſolved to engage, nor had the reſt courage to contradict his reſolution. The reſult, therefore, was that they ſhould give battle the next day.

This being reſolved on the ſide of Perſia, the Greeks were not leſs prepared for the en⯑gagement, for they had been ſecretly apprized the night before by Alexander king of Mace⯑don of the reſult of the Perſian councils. Pau⯑ſanias, therefore, gave orders to his army to prepare themſelves for battle, and draw⯑ing up his forces, placed the Athenians on the right, as being better acquainted with the Perſian manner of fighting, and fluſhed with former ſucceſs. Whether it was fear or prudence that ſuggeſted this change to the ge⯑neral, the Athenians took the poſt of honour [170] with exultation; nothing was heard among them but mutual exhortations to bravery, and a ſteady reſolution to conquer or fall. But Mardonius hearing of this alteration in the diſpoſition of the Grecian army, made an alter⯑ation alſo in his own. This alſo once more produced a change in the diſpoſition of the Greeks; by this changing and rechanging the order of battle, nothing farther was done for that day.

At night the Greeks held a council of war, in which it was reſolved, that they ſhould de⯑camp from their preſent ſituation, and march to another, more conveniently ſituated for wa⯑ter. As their removal was performed in the night, much diſorder enſued; and in the morning, Mardonius perceiving them ſcattered over the plain, he ſuppoſed that they were fly⯑ing, rather than retreating; he, therefore, re⯑ſolved to purſue with his whole army. The Greeks perceiving his deſign, ſoon collected their ſcattered forces, which the darkneſs had diſperſed, but not intimidated, and halting near the little city of Platea, there determined to await the ſhock of their purſuers. The bar⯑barian forces ſoon came up to the engage⯑ment with their accuſtomed howling, expect⯑ing rather to plunder than to fight. The La⯑cedaemonians, [171] who cloſed up the rear of the Grecian army, were the firſt who ſupported the ſhock of the aſſailants. They were in ſome meaſure ſeparated from the reſt of the army by the obſtinacy of one of their own re⯑giments, who conſidered their retreat as con⯑trary to the idea of Spartan diſcipline, but ſtill conſiſting of a formidable body of men, they were in a capacity of making head againſt the invaders. Collecting themſelves into a phalanx, they ſtood impenetrable and immov⯑able to all the aſſaults of the enemy.

In the mean time, the Athenian troops who were apprized of the attack, quickly turned back, in order to aſſiſt their allies; but the Greeks, who were in Perſian pay, to the number of five thouſand intercepted their return. Thus, the battle was divided into two, and fought with great ardour in various parts of the field. But nothing could reſiſt the weight of the Spartan phalanx, who, after ſome time, broke in upon the Perſian forces, and put them into diſorder. In this tumult, Mardonius attempt⯑ing to reſtore the order of battle, and ruſhing into the midſt of the carnage, was killed by Aimneſtus, a Spartan; and ſoon after all his army betook themſelves to flight. The other Greek troops ſoon followed the brave example [172] ſet them by Sparta, and the rout became ge⯑neral. Artabazus, who commanded a body of forty thouſand Perſians, fled with them to⯑wards the Helleſpont, while the reſt fortified themſelves in their camp with wooden ram⯑parts. There they were attacked by the Spar⯑tans, but being not well-ſkilled in that part of war, the Athenians ſoon came up to their aſſiſt⯑ance, and ſoon effected a breach in this haſty rampart. It was then that the ſlaughter of the enemy was indiſcriminate and terrible. Of all the Perſian army that had taken refuge there, not four thouſand men eſcaped. Above an hundred thouſand men were put to the ſword; and the conquerors, willing to rid their coun⯑try at once of their terrible invaders, refuſed to give quarter. Thus ended the Perſian inva⯑ſions of Greece, nor ever after was the Perſian army ſeen to croſs the Helleſpont.

The carnage being at laſt over, the Greeks buried their dead, which at moſt did not amount to ten thouſand men; and ſoon after, as a teſtimony of their gratitude to Heaven, they cauſed a ſtatue of Jupiter to made at the general expence, which they placed in his temple at Olympia. The names of the ſeveral nations of Greece that were preſent in the en⯑gagement, were engraven on the right ſide of [173] the pedeſtal of the ſtatue, the Spartans firſt, the Athenians next, and all the reſt in order.

In the mean time, while ſucceſs attended the Grecian arms upon land, they were not leſs fortunate at ſea. The greateſt part of the Per⯑ſian fleet, after the defeat at Salamis, wintered at Cumae, and in the ſpring moved to Samos, both to guard and awe the coaſts of Aſia. The Grecians, in the mean while, were refitting their ſhips at Aegina, and being importuned by the Samians, they put to ſea under the con⯑duct of Leotichydes, the Spartan, and Xan⯑thippus, the Athenian. The Perſians appriſ⯑ed of their approaching, and having long ex⯑perienced their own inferiority, would not venture to oppoſe them at ſea, but drew up their ſhips upon land at Mycale, a promon⯑tory of lonia, where they fortified them with a wall and a deep trench, while they were alſo protected by an army of ſixty thouſand foot, under the command of Tigranes. This, how⯑ever, did not deter the Greeks from venturing to attack them. Leotichydes having endea⯑voured to make the Ionians revolt, landed his forces, and the next day prepared for the aſ⯑ſault. He drew up his army in two bodies; the one conſiſting chiefly of Athenians and [174] Corinthians, kept the plain, whilſt the other of Lacedaemonians, marched over the hills and precipices, to gain the higheſt ground. The battle being joined, great courage and reſolu⯑tion was ſhewn on both ſides, and the fortune of the day continued for a long time in ſuſ⯑penſe. The defection of the Greek auxiliaries in the Perſian army, turned the fate of the battle; the Perſians were ſoon routed, and purſued with great ſlaughter to their very tents. The Athenians had made themſelves maſters of the field before the Lacedaemonians could come up to their aſſiſtance, ſo that all the ſhare theſe had in the action, was to diſ⯑perſe ſome Perſian troops which were attempt⯑ing to make a regular retreat, ſoon after their ramparts were forced, and all their veſſels burnt, ſo that nothing could be more com⯑plete than the victory at Mycale. Tigranes, the Perſian general, and forty thouſand men of his army, lay dead on the field of battle; the fleet was deſtroyed, and of the great army brought into Europe by Xerxes, ſcarce one re⯑mained to bring back the tidings.

The battle of Platea was fought in the morn⯑ing, and that of Mycale in the evening of the ſame day. But what is very extraordinary, it is univerſally aſſirmed, that the victory at [175] Plataea was known at Mycale before the battle begun, though it is a paſſage of ſeveral days from one place to the other. It is moſt pro⯑bable, that Leotychides made uſe of the report to encourage his army, and incite them to emulate their aſſociates in the cauſe of freedom.

During theſe misfortunes, Xerxes, who had been the cauſe of all, lay at Sardis expect⯑ing the event of his expedition, but every hour coming loaded with the news of ſome fatal diſaſter, finding himſelf unable to retrieve his affairs, he retired farther into the country, and endeavoured to drown in luxury and riot the uneaſy reflections of his ſucceſsleſs ambition. To the want of ſucceſs abroad, was added the contempt of his ſubjects at home; and this brought on a train of treaſons, inſurrections, ſacrilege, murder, inceſt, and cruelty; ſo that the latter part of his reign was as ſcandalous as the firſt part of it had been unfortunate.

The Grecian fleet after the battle of Mycale ſet ſail towards the Helleſpont, in order to poſſeſs themſelves of the bridges which Xerxes had built over that ſtreight, but finding them already deſtroyed by the tempeſtuous weather, they returned home. From this time, all the cities of Ionia revolted from the Perſians, and having entered into the general conſederacy, [176] moſt of them preſerved their liberty during the time that empire ſubſiſted.

The treaſures which the Perſians had brought into Greece were very great, and theſe of conſequence, became a prey to the conquerors. From this period, the Greeks began to loſe their ſpirit of hardy and labori⯑ous virtue, and to adopt the refined indolence, the captious petulance, and the boundleſs love of pleaſure, which extreme wealth is ever known to produce. The former equality of the people now began to be broken, and while one part of the inhabitants rioted in opu⯑lence and luxury, another was ſeen pining in want and deſpair. It was in vain that philo⯑ſophy reared its head to ſtop theſe calamities; its voice reaches to but a few; the great and the little vulgar are equally deaf to its dictates. From this time we are to view a different pic⯑ture; and, inſtead of a brave and refined peo⯑ple confederating againſt tyranny, we are to be⯑hold an ennervate and factious populace, a cor⯑rupt adminiſtration among thoſe in power, and wealth alone making diſtinction.

CHAP. VI. From the Victory at MYCALE to the Beginning of the PELOPONNESSIAN War.

A. M. 3526. NO ſooner were the Greeks freed from the apprehenſions of a foreign invaſion, than they began to entertain jealouſies of each other. In⯑deed theſe petty animoſities had all along ſub⯑ſiſted among them, but they were kept under by the ſenſe of general danger. As this col⯑lection of republics was compoſed of ſtates entirely diſſimilar in manners, intereſts and in⯑clinations, it was no way ſurpriſing to find its parts ever at variance with each other. The firſt marks of jealouſy upon the deſtruction of the Perſian army, exhibited themſelves between the Athenians and Spartans. The one a refin⯑ed ambitious ſtate, unwilling to admit a ſupe⯑rior in the general confederacy, the other an hardy unpoliſhed race, which could never think of admitting a feebler ſtate as an equal. The Athenians, with their families, being returned to their own country, began to think of re⯑building their city, which had been almoſt de⯑ſtroyed [178] during the Perſian war. As every new foundation aims at improving the old, they laid a plan of ſtrengthening and extending their walls, and giving their city at once more mag⯑nificence and ſecurity. This was but natural, however the Lacedaemonians conceived a jea⯑louſy at this undertaking, and began to think that Athens, from being miſtreſs of the ſeas, would ſoon attempt uſurping all authority up⯑on land. They, therefore, ſent an embaſſy to the Athenians to diſſuade them from this undertaking, giving as an oſtenſible reaſon, the danger ſuch fortifications would be of to the general confederacy if they ſhould ever fall in⯑to the hands of the Perſians. This meſſage at firſt appeared reaſonable, and the Athenians put an immediate ſtop to their undertaking; but Themiſtocles, who ſince the battle of Sala⯑mis continued to guide in the aſſemblies of Athens, eaſily ſaw through the pretext, and adviſed the council to meet their diſſimulation with ſimilar addreſs. He, therefore, anſwer⯑ed the Spartan ambaſſadors, that the Atheni⯑ans would ſoon ſend an embaſſy to Lacedaemon, in which they would fully ſatisfy all their ſcruples. Having thus gained time, he pro⯑cured himſelf to be elected for that important negociation, and took care to draw out the [179] treaty by ſtudied delays. He had previouſly deſired that his colleagues ſhould follow one after another, and ſtill he alledged at Lacedae⯑mon that he only waited for their arrival to de⯑termine the affair at a ſingle audience. Dur⯑ing all this time the work was carried on at Athens with the utmoſt vigour and induſtry, the women and children, ſtrangers and ſlaves, were all employed in it, nor was it interrupt⯑ed for a ſingle day. It was in vain that the Spartans complained of this procedure; it was in vain that they urged Themiſtocles to haſten his buſineſs, he ſtedfaſtly denied the fact, and entreated them not to give any credit to looſe and idle reports. He deſired they would ſend again and enquire into the truth of the matter; and, at the ſame time, adviſed the Athenians to detain the Spartan envoys until he and his collegues ſhould return. At laſt, finding all his pretences for delay ex⯑hauſted, he boldly demanded an audience, and knowing that the work was finiſhed, he no longer kept on the maſk. He then informed the Spartans in full council, that Athens was now in a condition to keep out any enemy, whether foreign or domeſtic: that what his countrymen had done was conformable both to the law of nations, and the common intereſts of [180] Greece. Every city had a right to conſult for its own ſafety, without ſubmitting to the ad⯑vice or controul of its neighbours; that what had been done was entirely in conſequence of his advice; and, in ſhort, that whatever injury they offered him, they muſt expect it would be returned upon their own ambaſſadors, who were ſtill detained at Athens. Theſe declara⯑tions extremely diſpleaſed the Lacedaemonians, but, either ſenſible of their truth, or unwilling to come to an open rupture, they diſſembled their reſentment, and the ambaſſadors on both ſides having all ſuitable honours paid them, re⯑turned to their reſpective cities. Themiſtocles was received with as much joy by his fellow ci⯑tizens as if he had returned from triumph, and he was of a diſpoſition to feel thoſe honours with the higheſt delight.

Having thus taken proper precautions for ſecuring the city, his next care was to ſtrengthen the port, and form an harbour at once ſpacious and ſecure. He likewiſe obtained a decree, that every year they ſhould build twenty veſ⯑ſels to continue and augment their force by ſea; and, in order to engage the greater num⯑ber of workmen and ſailors to reſort to Athens, he cauſed particular privileges and immunities to be granted in their favour. His deſign was [181] to render Athens entirely a maritime city, in which he followed a very different ſyſtem of politics from their former governors, who bent all their efforts to alienate the minds of the peo⯑ple from commerce and naval affairs.

But as ſucceſs in one part is apt to lead on to deſigns ſtill more extenſive, Themiſto⯑cles was willing to outſtep the bounds of juſ⯑tice in the proſecution of his darling projects. He even formed a plan of ſupplanting Sparta, and making Athens the unrivalled miſtreſs of Greece. On a certain day, therefore, he de⯑clared in a full aſſembly of the people, that he had a very important deſign to propoſe, but which could not be communicated to the pub⯑lic, as the execution required ſecrecy and diſ⯑patch. He, therefore, deſired they would ap⯑point a perſon to whom he might explain himſelf, one whoſe judgment might direct, and whoſe authority might confirm him in his deſign. To direct in a matter of this importance, it was not eaſy to miſs the wiſeſt and the beſt man of the ſtate, and Ariſtides was unanimouſly cho⯑ſen by the whole aſſembly, as the propereſt per⯑ſon to weigh the juſtice as well as the utility of the propoſal. Themiſtocles, therefore, tak⯑ing him aſide, told him, that the deſign he had conceived was to burn the fleet belonging [182] to the reſt of the Grecian ſtates, which then lay in a neighbouring port, and thus procure Athens an undiſputed ſovereignty of the ſea. Ariſtides, inwardly diſpleaſed at the propoſal, made no anſwer, but returning to the aſſembly, informed them, that nothing could be more advantageous to Athens than what Themiſto⯑cles propoſed, but that nothing could be more unjuſt. The people, ſtill poſſeſſed of a ſhare of remaining virtue, unanimouſly declined the propoſal without knowing its contents, and conferred the ſurname of Juſt upon Ariſtides, a title ſtill the more flattering, as he had ſo well deſerved it.

Thus, Athens being reſtored to peace and ſecurity, once more began to apply to thoſe arts that adorn life and ſecure freedom. The people began to aſſume a greater ſhare in the government of the ſtate than they had hither⯑to aſpired at, and ſteps were every day taken to render the conſtitution entirely popular. Ariſtides perceived this, and juſtly dreaded the conſequences of a democratic government; he, therefore, procured a decree, that the archons who were the chief magiſtrates of the ſtate, ſhould be choſen indiſcriminately from all ranks of Athenians without diſtinction. Thus, by indulging the citizens in a part of [183] their wiſhes, he ſecured a legal ſubordination among the whole.

In the mean time, the Grecians, encourag⯑ed by their former victories, reſolved to ſend a fleet to deliver their confederates, who ſtill groaned beneath the Perſian yoke. Pauſanias commanded the Spartan fleet, while Ariſtides, and Cimon, the ſon of Miltiades, were ap⯑pointed to conduct the fleets of Athens. This was the firſt time the latter, who was yet very young, was placed in a ſphere for the exhibi⯑tion of his virtues. He had formerly ſuffered himſelf to be impriſoned towards the ſatisfying his father's fine, and his piety upon that occa⯑ſion gave the moſt favourable preſage of his future greatneſs. When ſet at liberty, his ſer⯑vices in war ſoon became conſpicuous, and it was ſeen that he acted with the courage of his father, the judgment of Themiſtocles, and with more ſincerity than either. The ingenu⯑ous openneſs of his temper being eaſily ſeen, he was oppoſed in the ſtate as a counterpoiſe to the craft and ſubtlety of Themiſtocles, and thus advanced to the higheſt employments both at home and abroad. Under theſe com⯑manders, the allied fleet firſt directed their courſe to the iſle of Cyprus, where they reſtor⯑ed all the cities to their liberty; then ſteering [184] towards the Helleſpont, attacked the city By⯑zantium, of which they made themſelves maſ⯑ters, and took a vaſt number of priſoners, many of whom were the richeſt and moſt conſider⯑able families of Perſia.

The ſucceſs of this expedition was not more flattering to the Greeks than in the end preju⯑dicial to them. A deluge of wealth pouring in, corrupted the ſimplicity, and tainted the manners of every rank of people. The Athe⯑nians already ſkilled in the arts of politeneſs and effeminacy, concealed their change for a time, but it ſoon broke out among the Spar⯑tans, and Pauſanias himſelf, their commander, was the firſt infected with the contagion. Be⯑ing naturally of an haughty and imperious temper, and ſtill more impreſſed with the gloomy auſterity of Sparta, he ſet no bounds to his ambition; he treated his officers, and even the confederate generals, with ſeverity, arrogance, and diſdain, and ſo much alienat⯑ed the minds of the ſoldiers, that he was for⯑ſaken by all the confederates, who put them⯑ſelves under the command and protection of Ariſtides and Cimon. Theſe generals had ever preſerved a contrary conduct; aſſable, courteous, and obliging, they tempered their authority with mildneſs, and won by their [185] manners ſuch as they could not engage by their benefits. An oppoſition ſo mortifying could not but be diſpleaſing to Pauſanias; it was in vain that he attempted to keep up his authori⯑ty by pride and oſtentation, his importance ſunk with his unpopularity, and he became contemptible even to thoſe that ſtill acknow⯑ledged his command.

Perhaps it was from theſe motives that he reſolved to ſacrifice his country to his ambition, and give up to the Perſians a ſtate where he could no longer expect to dictate. Be this as it will, he made overtures for gaining the favour of Xerxes; and, in order to ingratiate himſelf at the court of that monarch, he ſuf⯑fered ſome of his more exalted priſoners to make their eſcape by night, commiſſioned with letters to Xerxes, wherein he offered to deliver up Sparta and all Greece, on condition that he would give him his daughter in marriage. Xerxes readily harkened to the propoſal, and referred him to Artabazus, his governor, to concert meaſures with him for putting it in execution. He alſo furniſhed him with a large ſum of money to be diſtributed among ſuch of the Grecian ſtates as would join in the con⯑ſpiracy.

[186] How long this treaty continued ſecret we are not told, but it was diſcovered at Sparta before it could be put into execution, and Pau⯑ſanias was ordered home to take his trial for the offence. The proofs, however, againſt him were not ſufficient for conviction, as the Ephori had made it a rule never to convict a man but upon the plaineſt evidence. But his command was taken from him, and he retired, ſtill meditating revenge and the deſtruction of his country. It was not long, however, before he received a ſecond ſummons to appear before the Ephori for freſh crimes, and a number of his own ſlaves were found to depoſe againſt him. Still, however, he had the fortune to come off, the mildneſs of the Spartan laws, and the authority of his regal office, which he ſtill poſſeſſed, conſpiring to protect him.

Pauſanias having in this manner twice eſcap⯑ed the juſtice of his country, would not, how⯑ever, abandon his baſe projects, or ſacrifice his reſentment to his ſafety. Immediately upon his being acquitted, he returned to the ſea⯑coaſts, without any authority from the ſtate, and ſtill continued to carry on his correſpondence with Artabazus. He now acted with ſuch little reſerve, that his conduct was known to the Ephori, and they only wanted information [187] to convict him. While they were thus per⯑plexed for want of evidence, a certain ſlave, who was called the Argilian, cleared their doubts, and came with proofs which could not be reſiſted. This man had been employed by Pauſanias to carry a letter to Artabazus, and he accordingly prepared himſelf for the expedition, but reflecting, that many of his fellow-ſlaves had been ſent on ſimilar meſſages, and ſeeing none of them return, he was in⯑duced to open the pacquet of which he was the bearer, and there he diſcovered the myſtery and his own danger. It ſeems, that Pauſanias and the Perſian governor had agreed to put to death all the meſſengers they mutually ſent to each other as ſoon as their letters were deliver⯑ed, that there might be no poſſibility left of tracing out, or diſcovering the correſpondence. This letter he delivered to the Ephori, who were now convinced that Pauſanias was guilty, but for a more thorough confirmation, they were willing to have it from himſelf. For this purpoſe, they contrived that the ſlave ſhould take ſanctuary in the temple of Neptune as for ſafety and protection, and under a pretence of ſupplicating the deity for the infidelity he had committed. The inſtant Pauſanias was informed of his ſlave's behaviour, he haſtened [188] to the temple to enquire the reaſon, where the ſlave informed him, that having opened his letter, he found the contents fatal to himſelf, and therefore took this method of averting the danger. Pauſanias inſtead of denying the fact, endeavoured rather to pacify the ſlave, and promiſed him a large reward to bribe his future ſecrecy. But during this interview, the Ephori had privately poſted perſons to overhear the converſation, and they ſoon divulged his guilt. The moment, therefore, he was return⯑ed to the city, the Ephori reſolved to ſeize him, and from the aſpect of one of theſe magiſtrates he plainly perceived his danger: he, therefore, flew to take ſanctuary in the temple of Minerva, and got thither before his purſuers could overtake him. As the religion of the ſtate would not permit his being taken forcibly from thence, the people ſtopped up the entrance with great ſtones, and tearing off the roof, left him expoſed to the inclemency of the weather. After a ſhort ſtay he was ſtarved to death; and in this miſerable manner died the general who had led on the victorious troops to the field of Plataea.

The fate of Pauſanias ſoon after involved that of Themiſtocles, who had ſome time be⯑fore been baniſhed, and lived in great eſteem [189] at Argos. A paſſionate thirſt of glory, and a ſtrong deſire to command arbitrarily over the citizens, had made him very odious at Athens. He had built near his houſe a temple in ho⯑nour of Diana, under this title, To Diana, the Goddeſs of Good Counſel, as hinting his own counſels upon ſeveral important occaſions, and thus tacitly reproaching his fellow-citizens of having forgot them. This, though a ſmall offence, was ſufficient to expel him from ſo ſluctuating and jealous a ſtate as that of Athens; but he was now accuſed of having participat⯑ed in, and having been privy to the deſigns of Pauſanias. In fact, Pauſanias had communi⯑cated to him all his deſigns, but Themiſtocles had rejected his propoſals with the utmoſt in⯑dignation. But then he concealed his enter⯑prizes, either thinking it baſe to betray the ſecrets truſted to his confidence, or imagining it impoſſible for ſuch dangerous and ill-con⯑certed ſchemes to take effect. Be this as it will, upon the downfall of Pauſanias, it ap⯑peared that a correſpondence had been carried on between them, and the Lacedaemonians declared themſelves his accuſers before the aſ⯑ſembly of the people of Athens. Such of the citizens as had long either envied, or feared Themiſtocles, now joined in the general accu⯑ſation, [190] and urged his death with great acri⯑mony. Ariſtides alone, who had long been his open oppoſer, refuſed to join in this baſe confe⯑deracy againſt him, and rejected ſo mean an op⯑portunity of revenge, being as little inclined to delight in the misfortunes of his adverſary, as he had before been to envy his ſucceſſes. It was in vain that Themiſtocles anſwered by letters to the calumnies laid againſt him; it was in vain that he alledged, that a mind like his diſdaining ſlavery at home, could think of wiſhing for it in exile; the people too ſtrongly wrought upon by his accuſers, ſent perſons to ſeize and bring him before the council of Greece. Fortunately, however, he had time⯑ly notice of their deſign, and went to take re⯑fuge in the iſland of Corcyra, to the inhabi⯑tants of which he had formerly done ſignal ſer⯑vices. From thence he fled to Epirus, and finding himſelf ſtill purſued by the Athenians, grown at length deſperate, he fled to Admetus king of the Moloſſians for refuge. There he firſt practiſed all the abject arts of a man oblig⯑ed to ſue to a tyrant for ſuccour. He had up⯑on a former occaſion been inſtrumental in pre⯑venting the Athenians from granting aid to this monarch, and this was now ſeverely re⯑membered againſt him. Admetus was from [191] home at the time Themiſtocles came to im⯑plore protection; and, upon his return, he was ſurpriſed to find his old adverſary who had come to put himſelf under his protection. As ſoon as the king appeared, Themiſtocles took that monarch's young ſon in his arms, and ſeating himſelf amidſt the houſhold gods, in⯑formed him of the cauſe of his arrival, and im⯑plored his clemency and protection. Adme⯑tus ſurpriſed, and moved with compaſſion at ſeeing the greateſt man of Greece an humble ſuppliant at his feet, raiſed him immediately from the ground, and promiſed him protection. Accordingly, when the Athenians and Lace⯑daemonians came to demand him, he refuſed abſolutely to deliver up a perſon who had made his palace an aſylum, in the firm per⯑ſuaſion that it would afford him ſafety and protection. Thus, continuing to ſpend the cloſe of life in indolence and retirement, hav⯑ing learned to pardon and deſpiſe the ingrati⯑tude his country, he expected at leaſt their for⯑giveneſs. But the Athenians and Lacedaemo⯑nians would not ſuffer him to live in peace, and ſtill inſiſted on having him delivered up. In this exigence, as the king found himſelf unable to protect his illuſtrious gueſt, he reſolved to promote his eſcape. He was, [192] therefore, put on board a merchant ſhip, which was ſailing to Ionia, and his quality concealed with the utmoſt precaution. A ſtorm having carried the ſhip near the iſland of Naxos, then beſieged by the Athenians, the imminent danger he was in of falling into their hands, compelled him to diſcover himſelf to the pilot, and prevailed upon him to ſteer for Aſia; where, arriving at Cumae, a city of Aeolia, in Aſia Minor, he was from thence ſent under a ſtrong guard, and in one of thoſe covered chariots in which the Perſians were accuſtomed to convey their wives to the court at Sardis.

When the unfortunate exile was arrived at the palace of the voluptuous monarch of the country, he waited on the captain of the guard, requeſting, as a Grecian ſtranger to have permiſſion to ſpeak with the king. The officer informed him of a ceremony, which he knew was inſupportable to ſome Greeks, but without which none were allowed that honour. This was to fall proſtrate before the Perſian monarch, and to worſhip him as the living image of the gods on earth. Themiſtocles, who was never ſcrupu⯑lous of the means of obtaining what he ſought, promiſed to comply, and falling on his face before the king in the Perſian manner, declared [193] his name, his country, and misfortunes. ‘"I have done, cried he, my ungrateful country ſervices more than once, and I am now come to offer theſe ſervices to you. My life is in your hands: you may now exert your clemency, or diſplay your vengeance. By the former you will preſerve a faithful ſuppliant, by the latter you will deſtroy the greateſt enemy to Greece."’ The king made him no anſwer at this audience, though he was ſtruck with admiration at his eloquence and intrepidity, but he ſoon gave a looſe to his joy for the event. He told his courtiers, that he conſidered the arrival of Themiſtocles as a very happy accident, and wiſhed that his enemies would for ever purſue the ſame deſtructive methods of baniſhing from among them all the good and wiſe. Even his ſatisfactions were continued in a dream. At night he was ſeen to ſtart from his ſleep, and three times to cry out, ‘"I have got Themiſ⯑tocles the Athenian."’ He even gave him three cities for his ſupport, and had him maintained in the utmoſt affluence and ſplendor. It is ſaid that ſuch was his favour at the Perſian court, and ſo great was the conſideration in which he was held by all ranks of mankind, that one day at table he was heard to cry out to his w [...]fe and children that were placed there, ‘"Chil⯑dren, [194] we ſhould have been certainly ruined, if we had not been formerly undone."’

In this manner he lived in affluence and con⯑tented ſlavery, until the king began to think of employing his talents in ſending him at the head of an army againſt Athens. Athough Themiſtocles profeſſed himſelf an open enemy to that ſtate, yet he ſtill harboured a latent af⯑fection for it, which no reſentment could re⯑move. The conſciouſneſs that he ſhould be inſtrumental in overturning a city which had been made to flouriſh by his counſels, gave him inexpreſſible pain. He found himſelf at laſt unable to ſuſtain the conflict between his gratitude to the king and his love to his coun⯑try; and, therefore, reſolved upon dying as the only means of eſcaping from his perplexity. He, therefore, prepared a ſolemn ſacrifice, to which he invited all his friends, when, after embracing them all, and taking a laſt farewell, he ſwallowed poiſon, which ſoon put an end to his life. He died at Magneſia, aged three⯑ſcore and five years, the greateſt part of which he had ſpent in the intrigues and buſtles of active employment. Themiſtocles ſeemed to unite in himſelf all the prominent features of the Greek character; ſagacious, eloquent, and brave, yet unprincipled, artful, and merce⯑nary, [195] with too many virtues ever to be men⯑tioned as a deſpicable character, and too many defects ever to be conſidered as a great one.

In the mean time, while Themiſtocles was thus become the ſport of fortune, the juſt Ariſ⯑tides attempted a nobler path to glory. It has already been obſerved, that the command of Greece had paſſed from Sparta to the Atheni⯑ans; and it was agreed among the body of the ſtates, that their common treaſure for car⯑rying on the expences of the war, ſhould be lodged in the iſland of Delos, under the cuſ⯑tody of a man of a clear head and an uncor⯑rupt heart. The great queſtion, therefore, was where to find a man to be truſted with ſo im⯑portant a charge, and ſteadfaſtly known to pre⯑fer the public intereſt to his own. In this ge⯑neral diſquiſition all parties at laſt caſt their eyes on Ariſtides, of whom Themiſtocles uſed jeſtingly to ſay, that he had no other merit than that of a ſtrong box, in keeping ſafely what was committed to his charge.

The conduct of Ariſtides in his diſcharge of this duty, only ſerved to confirm the great opi⯑nion mankind had formed of his integrity. He preſided over the treaſury with the care of a father over his family, and the caution of a miſer over what he holds dearer than himſelf. [196] No man complained of his adminiſtration, and no part of the public money was exhauſted in vain. He who thus contributed to make go⯑vernment rich, was himſelf very poor; and ſo far was he from being aſhamed of poverty, that he conſidered it as glorious to him as all the trophies and victories he had won. It hap⯑pened upon a certain occaſion, that Callias, an intimate friend and relation of Ariſtides, was ſummoned before the judges for ſome of⯑fence, and one of the chief objections alledg⯑ed againſt him, was that while he rolled in af⯑fluence and luxury, he ſuffered his friend and relation Ariſtides to remain in poverty and want. Upon this occaſion, Ariſtides was call⯑ed upon, when it appeared that Callias had often offered to ſhare his fortune with him, but that he declined the benefit; aſſerting, that he only might be ſaid to want who permitted his appetites to tranſgreſs the bounds of his in⯑come, and that he who could diſpenſe with a few things, thus rendered himſelf more like the gods, that want for nothing.

In this manner he lived, juſt in his public, and independent in his private capacity. His houſe was a public ſchool for virtue, and was open to all young Athenians who ſought wiſ⯑dom, or were ambitious of power. He gave [197] them the kindeſt reception, heard them with patience, inſtructed them with familiarity, and endeavoured above all things to give them a juſt value for themſelves. Among the reſt of his diſciples Cimon, who afterwards made ſuch a diſtinguiſhed figure in the ſtate, was one of the foremoſt.

Hiſtory does not mention the exact time or place of his death, but it pays the moſt glori⯑ous teſtimony to his diſintereſted character, in telling us, that he who had the abſolute diſ⯑poſal of all the public treaſures died poor. It is even aſſerted, that he did not leave money enough behind him to pay the expences of his funeral, but that the government was obliged to bear the charge of it, and to maintain his family. His daughters were married, and his ſon ſubſiſted at the expence of the public, and ſome of his grandchildren were ſubſiſted by a penſion equal to that which ſuch received as had been victorious at the Olympic games. But the greateſt honour which his countrymen paid to his memory, was in giving him the title of Juſt, a character far ſuperior to all the empty titles of wiſdom or conqueſt, ſince fortune or accident may confer wiſdom or valour, but all the virtues of morality are ſolely of our own making.

[198] Athens being in this manner deprived of the counſels and integrity of her two greateſt ma⯑giſtrates, room was now made for younger ambition to ſtep forward, and Cimon, the ſon of Miltiades, promiſed to fill the ſcene with dignity and honour Cimon had ſpent his youth in exceſſes, from whence it was thought no effort could extricate him. When he firſt offered to gain public favour, he was ſo ill re⯑ceived by the people, prejudiced againſt him by his former follies, that he ſuffered the moſt cruel neglect. But, though he was poſſeſſed of courage and abilities, he began to lay aſide all thoughts of the public, contented with on⯑ly humbler ſatisfactions. But Ariſtides per⯑ceiving that his diſſolute turn of mind was united with many great qualifications, he in⯑ſpired him with freſh hopes, and perſuaded him once more to renew the onſet He now, there⯑fore, entirely changed his conduct, and laying aſide his juvenile follies, aimed at nothing but what was great and noble. Thus, he became not inferior to Miltiades in courage, to The⯑miſtocles in prudence, and was not far ſurpaſſ⯑ed by Ariſtides in integrity.

The firſt expedition of any note to the com⯑mand of which Cimon was appointed, was of the fleet deſtined to ſcour the Aſiatic ſeas. [199] When he was arrived at Caria, all the Grecian cities upon the ſea-coaſt immediately came in, and the reſt, which were garriſoned by the Per⯑ſians, were taken by ſtorm. Thus, by his conduct as well as by his intelligence, the whole country from Ionia to Pamphylia declar⯑ed againſt the power of Perſia, and joined in the aſſociation with Greece.

The capture of the city Eion is too remark⯑able to be paſt over in ſilence. Boges was go⯑vernor, who held it for his maſter, the king of Perſia, with a firm reſolution to ſave it, or periſh in its fall. It was in his power to have capitulated with the beſiegers, and Cimon had often offered him very advantageous terms, but preferring his honour to his ſafety, he de⯑clined all treaty, and defended his ſtation with incredible fury, till he found it no longer poſ⯑ſible to continue his defence. Being at laſt in the utmoſt want of proviſions, he threw all his treaſures from the walls into the river Strymon, after which, killing his wife and children, he laid them upon a pile which he had erected for that purpoſe, and then ſetting fire to the whole, ruſhed and expired in the midſt of the flames.

Cimon thus proceeding from one conqueſt to another, was at laſt informed that the whole Perſian fleet was anchored at the mouth of the [200] river Eurymedon, where they expected a rein⯑forcement of ſhips from Phoenicia, and, there⯑fore, deferred an engagement till then. The Athenian general, however, reſolved, if poſſi⯑ble, to prevent this junction, and ranged his gallies in ſuch a poſture as to prevent, it and yet compel the enemy to an engage⯑ment. It was in vain that the Perſian fleet re⯑tired farther up the mouth of the river, the Athenians ſtill purſued them up the ſtream, until they were obliged to prepare for battle. The Perſians having the ſuperiority of an hun⯑dred ſail, maintained the conflict for ſome time with great intrepidity, but being at laſt forced on ſhore, they who came firſt threw themſelves upon land, leaving their empty veſſels to the enemy. Thus, beſides what were ſunk, the Athenians took above two hundred ſhips, and following their blow upon land, the Greek ſoldiers jumping from their ſhips, and ſetting up a ſhout, ran furiouſly upon the enemy, who ſuſtained the firſt ſhock with great reſolution. But, at length, the Grecian valour ſurmounted the enemy's deſ⯑peration; a total rout of the Perſians enſued, numbers were made priſoners, and a great quan⯑tity of plunder ſeized, which was found in their tents. Thus, the Greeks, obtained a [201] double victory by ſea and land upon the ſame occaſion.

Cimon having returned ſucceſsful from this expedition, reſolved to expend thoſe treaſures which he had taken in war, in beautifying and adorning his native city. A taſte for architec⯑ture had for ſome time been entering into Greece, and the Athenians gave the world examples in this art, that ſurpaſs all others to this very day. Victories ſo very humiliating to the pride of Perſia, induced that empire at laſt to think of peace, and after ſome time a treaty was concluded, in which the terms were very honourable on the ſide of Greece. It was ſtipulated, that the Grecian cities in Aſia ſhould be left in quiet enjoyment of their liberty, and that both the land and ſea forces of the Per⯑ſians ſhould be kept at ſuch a diſtance from the Grecian ſeas, as not to create the ſmalleſt ſuſpicion. Thus entirely ended the Perſian war, which had kept the Grecian ſtates united, and called all their abilities into exertion; from that time forward thoſe enmities which were diſſipated upon the common foe, began to be turned upon each other; they loſt all warlike ſpirit in petty jealouſies, and entirely ſoftening by the refinements and luxuries of peace, prepared [202] themſelves for ſubmiſſion to the firſt invader of their freedom.

About this time the ſtudy of philoſophy was carried from Ionia to Athens by Athena⯑goras the Clazomenian. Poetry was, at the ſame time, cultivated by Simonides of the iſland of Ceos, who ſung the exploits of his country in a ſtyle becoming their valour. His writings however have not had merit enough to preſerve them from oblivion; and, it may be aſſerted, that mankind never ſuffer any work to be loſt which tends to make them more wiſe or happy.

CHAP. VII. From the Peace with PERSIA to the Peace of NICIAS.

THE ſtate of Athens being thus in a great meaſure freed from its fears of a foreign ene⯑my, began to cheriſh inteſtine animoſities, and its citizens laboured with every art to ſupplant each other in aiming at places of truſt and au⯑thority. Beſides Cimon, who, by general conſent, had been appointed to conduct the [203] fleet and army, others endeavoured to take the lead at home, and to govern with leſs hazard the operations of the ſtate. The fore⯑moſt in this attempt was Pericles, who was much younger than Cimon, and of a quite different character. Pericles was deſcended from the greateſt and moſt illuſtrious families of Athens: his father, Xanthippus, defeated the Perſians at Mycale, and his mother Aga⯑riſta, was niece to Caliſthenes, who expelled the tyrants, and eſtabliſhed a popular govern⯑ment in Athens. He had early thoughts of riſ⯑ing in the ſtate, and took leſſons from Anaxa⯑goras, in the philoſophy of nature. He ſtudi⯑ed politics with great aſſiduity, but particular⯑ly devoted himſelf to eloquence, which, in a popular ſlate, he conſidered as the fountain of all promotion. His ſtudies were crowned with ſucceſs; the poets, his cotemporaries, affirm, that his eloquence was ſo powerful, that, like thunder, he ſhook and aſtoniſhed all Greece. He had the art of uniting force and beauty; there was no reſiſting the ſtrength of his argu⯑ments, or the ſweetneſs of his delivery. Thucy⯑dides, his great opponent, was often heard to ſay, that though he had often overthrown him, the power of his perſuaſion was ſuch, that the audience could never perceive him fallen.

[204] To this eloquence he added alſo a thorough inſight into human nature, as well as a perfect acquaintance with the diſpoſition of his audi⯑tors. It was a conſtant ſaying with him to himſelf, Remember Pericles thou art going to ſpeak to men born in the arms of liberty, and ſtill took care to flatter them in their ruling paſ⯑ſion. He reſembled the tyrant Piſiſtratus, not only in the ſweetneſs of his voice, but the fea⯑tures of his face, and his whole air and man⯑ner. To theſe natural and acquired graces, he added thoſe of fortune; he was very rich, and had an extenſive alliance with all the moſt powerful families of the ſtate.

The death of Ariſtides, the baniſhment of Themiſtocles, and the abſence of Cimon, gave opportunities to his growing ambition. Yet he at firſt concealed his deſigns with the moſt cautious reſerve, till finding the people grow⯑ing more and more in his intereſt, he ſet him⯑ſelf at their head, and oppoſed the principal men of the ſtate with great appearance of diſ⯑interelled virtue. The chief obſtacle to his riſe was Cimon, whoſe candour and liberality had gained him a numerous party of all ranks and denominations. In oppoſition to him, Pe⯑ricles called in popular aſſiſtance, and by ex⯑pencing the public money in bribes, largeſſes, [205] and other diſtributions, he eaſily gained the multitude to eſpouſe his intereſts.

Thus, having laid a ſecure foundation in popularity, he next ſtruck at the council of the Areopagus, compoſed of the moſt reſpect⯑able perſons of all Athens; and, by the aſſiſt⯑ance of one Ephialtes, another popular cham⯑pion, he drew away moſt cauſes from the cog⯑nizance of that court, and brought the whole order into contempt. In this manner, while Cimon was permitted to conduct the war abroad, he managed all the ſupplies at home; and, as it was his intereſt to keep Cimon at a diſtance, he took care to provide him with a ſufficiency of foreign employment.

In this ſtate of parties at Athens, an infur⯑rection of the Helotae, or Lacedaemonian ſlaves, gave an opportunity of trying the ſtrength of either. Theſe men, who had for ſeveral cen⯑turies groaned under the yoke of their country⯑men, and had been excluded from all hopes of riſing, merely by the influence of an unjuſt precedent to their prejudice, at laſt took up arms againſt their maſters, and threatened no leſs than the deſtruction of the Spartan ſtate. In this extremity the Lacedaemonians ſent to Athens to implore ſuccours; but this was op⯑poſed by Fphialtes, who declared, that it [206] would be no way adviſeable to aſſiſt them, or to make a rival city powerful by their aſſiſtance. On the other hand, Cimon eſpouſed the cauſe of Sparta, declaring, that it was weak and in⯑conſiſtent to maim the Grecian confederacy, by ſuffering one of its members to be tamely lopped away. His opinion for this time pre⯑vailed; he was permitted to march forth at the head of a numerous body to their relief, and the inſurrection was quelled at their approach. But ſhortly after the miſchief broke out afreſh. The Helots poſſeſſed themſelves of the ſtrong fortreſs of Ithome, and the Spartans again pe⯑titioned for Athenian aſſiſtance. It was now that the party of Pericles was found to prevail, and the Lacedaemonians were refuſed a com⯑pliance with their demands. Thus left to fi⯑niſh the war with their inſurgent ſlaves in the beſt manner they could, after beſieging Ithome, which held out for ten years, they at laſt be⯑came maſters of it, ſparing the lives of thoſe who defended it, upon condition of leaving Peloponneſus ever after.

In the mean time, the refuſal on the ſide of Athens, and ſome indignities ſaid to be receiv⯑ed on the ſide of Lacedaemon, revived a jeal⯑ouſy that had long ſubſiſted between theſe rival ſtates, which continued thence forward [207] to operate with greater or diminiſhed influ⯑ence, until both were utterly unabled to with⯑ſtand the ſmalleſt efforts of foreign invaſion.

The firſt inſtance the Athenians gave of their reſentment, was to baniſh Cimon, who had been a favourer of the Spartan cauſe, for ten years, from the city. They next diſſolved their alliance with Sparta, and entered into a treaty with the Argives, the profeſſed enemies of the former. The ſlaves of Ithome were alſo taken under Athenian protection, and ſettled with their families at Naupactus. But what contributed to widen the breach ſtill more, the city of Megara revolting from its alliance with Sparta, was protected and garriſoned by the Athenians; thus was laid the foundation of an inveterate hatred, which ended in mutual deſtruction.

As, in all beginning enmities, ſeveral trea⯑ties were entered into, and ſeveral leagues concluded on both ſides, till at laſt they came to a formal rupture. Two pitched battles be⯑tween the Athenians and Corinthians, in which either ſide was alternatively victorious, ſound⯑ed the alarm. Another followed between the Athenians and Spartans at Tangara, in which, Cimon forgetting the injury he had ſuſtained from his country, came in to its aſſiſtance; but [208] the Athenians ſuffered a defeat. A month or two after repaired the diſgrace, and the Athe⯑nians were in their turn victorious. The con⯑duct of Cimon again reſtored him to public favour; he was recalled from baniſhment, in which he had ſpent five years; and it was Pericles, his rival, who firſt propoſed the decree.

The firſt uſe Cimon made of his return, was to reconcile the two rival ſtates to each other; and this was ſo far affected outwardly, that a truce for five years was concluded between them. This led the way to exerting the power of the ſtate upon a more diſtant enemy. By his advice, a fleet of two hundred ſail was manned, and deſtined, under his command, to conquer the iſland of Cyprus. He quickly ſailed, over-ran the iſland, and laid ſiege to Citium. Here, being either wounded by the defendants, or waſted by ſickneſs, he began to perceive the approaches of diſſolution; but ſtill mindful of his duty, he ordered his attendants to conceal his death until their ſchemes were crowned with ſucceſs. They obeyed with ſe⯑crecy and ſucceſs. Thirty days after he was dead, the army, which ſtill ſuppoſed itſelf un⯑der his command, gained a ſignal victory; thus he died not only in the arms of conqueſt, but [209] gained battles merely by the efficacy of his name. With Cimon, in a great meaſure, ex⯑pired the ſpirit of glory in Athens. As he was the laſt, ſo he was the moſt ſucceſsful of the Grecian heroes. Such was the terror of the Perſians at his name, that they univer⯑ſally deſerted the ſea-coaſts, and would not come within four hundred furlongs of the place where he could be poſſibly expected.

Pericles being now, by the death of Cimon, freed from a potent rival, ſet himſelf to complete the work of ambition which he had begun, and by dividing the conquered lands, amuſing the people with ſhows, and adorning the city with public buildings, he gained ſuch an aſcendant over the minds of the people, that he might be ſaid to have attained a mo⯑narchical power in Athens. He found means to maintain for eight months in the year a great number of poor citizens, by putting them on board the fleet, conſiſting of threeſcore ſhips, which he fitted out every year. He planted ſeveral colonies in the many places which had lately ſubmitted to Athens. By this he clear⯑ed the city of a great number of idle perſons, who were ever ready to diſturb government; and were, at the ſame time, unable to ſubſiſt. But the public buildings which he raiſed, the [210] ruins of ſome of which ſubſiſt to this day, are ſufficient to endear his name to poſterity. It is ſurpriſing, that in a city not noted for the number of its inhabitants, and in ſo ſhort a ſpace of time as that of his adminiſtration, ſuch laborious, expenſive, and magnificent works could be performed. All the arts of architec⯑ture, ſculpture, and painting were exhauſted in his deſigns; and what ſtill remain, continue to this hour as inimitable models of perfection. To effect theſe great works, he, in ſome mea⯑ſure, had recourſe to injuſtice, and availed himſelf of thoſe treaſures which had been ſup⯑plied by Greece for carrying on the war with Perſia, and which having been lodged at De⯑los, he had addreſs enough to get tranſported to Athens, where he expended them in ſecuring his own power by all the arts of popularity. By theſe means Athens became ſo much ad⯑mired, and envied by her neighbours, that it went by the name of the Ornament; and when it was urged, that the common treaſure was ſquandred away in theſe works of ſhow, Peri⯑cles anſwered, that the people of Athens were not accountable to any for their conduct; for they had the beſt right to the treaſures of the confederated ſtates who took the greateſt care to defend them. He added, that it was fit [211] ingenious artizans ſhould have their ſhare of the public money, ſince there was ſtill enough left for carrying on the war.

Theſe were rather the arguments of power than perſuaſion, of a man already in poſſeſſion than willing upon juſt grounds to relinquiſh what he claimed. It was ſeen not only by the wiſer citizens, but by all the ſtates of Greece, that he was daily ſtriding into power, and would, as Piſiſtratus had done be⯑fore, make the people the fabricators of their own chains. For remedying this growing evil, the heads of the city oppoſed Thucy⯑dides to his growing power, and attempted to reſtrain his career by oppoſing eloquence to popularity.

Thucydides was brother-in-law to Cimon, and had diſplayed his wiſdom on numberleſs occaſions. He was not poſſeſſed of the mili⯑tary talents of his rival; but his eloquence gave him a very powerful influence over the people. As he never left the city, he ſtill com⯑bated Pericles in all his meaſures, and for a while brought down the ambition of his rival to the ſtandard of reaſon.

But his efforts could not long avail againſt the perſuaſive power and corrupt influence of his opponent. Pericles every day gained new [212] ground, till he at laſt found himſelf poſſeſſed of the whole authority of the ſtate. It was then that he began to change his behaviour, and from acting the fawning and humble ſup⯑pliant, he aſſumed the haughty airs of royalty. He now no longer ſubmitted himſelf to the ca⯑price of the people, but changed the demo⯑cratic ſtate of Athens into a kind of monarchy, without departing however from the public good. He would ſometimes indeed win his fellow-citizens over to his will, but at other times, when he found them obſtinate, he would in a manner compel them to conſult their own intereſts. Thus, between power and perſua⯑ſion, public profuſion, and private oeconomy, political falſehood, and private integrity, Pe⯑ricles became the principal ruler at Athens, and all ſuch as were his enemies, became the ene⯑mies of the ſtate.

It is not to be wondered, that this proſpe⯑rous and magnificent ſtate of Athens was not a little diſpleaſing to the rival ſtates of Greece, eſpecially as its ſtate of ſplendor was, in ſome meaſure, formed from their contributions. The Spartans particularly ſtill continued to re⯑gard this growing city with envy, and ſoon ſhewed their diſpleaſure, by refuſing to ſend deputies to Athens to conſult about repairing [213] the temple that had been burnt down during the wars with Perſia. The ſucceſſes of Peri⯑cles againſt the enemy in Thrace, ſtill more encreaſed their uneaſineſs; and particularly when ſailing round Peloponneſus with an hun⯑dred ſhips, he protected the allies of Greece, and granted their cities all they thought fit to aſk him. Theſe ſucceſſes raiſed the in⯑dignation of Sparta, while they intoxicated Athens with ideas of ambition, and opened new inlets for meditating conqueſt. The ci⯑tizens now began to talk of attempts upon Egypt, of attacking the maritime provinces of Perſia, of carrying their arms into Sicily, and of extending their conqueſts from Italy to Car⯑thage. Theſe were views beyond their power, and that rather marked their pride than their ability.

An expedition againſt Samos, in favour of the Miletians, who had craved their aſſiſtance, was the beginning of this rupture, which never after was cloſed up. It is pretended, that Pericles fomented this war, to pleaſe a famous courtezan named Aſpaſia, of whom he was particularly enamoured. After ſeveral events and battles, not worth the regard of hiſtory, Pericles beſieged the capital of Samos with tortoiſes and battering rams, which was the [214] firſt time theſe military engines had been em⯑ployed in ſieges. The Samians, after ſuſtain⯑ing a nine months ſiege, ſurrendered. Peri⯑cles raſed their walls, diſpoſſeſſed them of their ſhips, and demanded immenſe ſums to defray the expences of the war. Fluſhed with this ſucceſs, he returned to Athens, buried all thoſe who had loſt their lives in the ſiege in the moſt ſplendid manner, and pronounced their funeral oration.

A rupture now between the Athenians and Lacedaemonians ſeemed inevitable. A. M. 3572. Pericles, therefore, to anticipate the deſigns of his rival ſtate, adviſed that aid ſhould be ſent to the people of Corcyra, whom the Corinthians, aſſiſted by the Lacedaemonians, had invaded.

As the quarrel between the Corcyreans and Corinthians gave riſe to the great Peloponneſi⯑an war, which ſoon after involved all Greece, it will be neceſſary to give a ſlight account of its original. Epidamnus was a colony of the Corcyreans, which growing firſt rich, and ſoon after factious, baniſhed the chief of her citi⯑zens. The exiles joining with the Illyrians, brought the Epidamnians ſo low, that they were obliged to ſend to Corcyra, their parent city, for aſſiſtance. The Corcyreans rejecting their requeſt, they had recourſe to Corinth; [215] and giving themſelves up to that ſtate, were taken under its protection. This, however, the Corcyreans began to reſent, and having been remiſs in affording aſſiſtance themſelves, re⯑ſolved to puniſh ſuch as ſhould offer any. A rupture enſued between the Corinthians and Corcyreans, ſome naval engagements enſued, in which the Corcyreans being worſted, had recourſe, as has been already obſerved, to the Athenians for ſupport, who ſent ſome naval ſuc⯑cours, which, however, proved of no great ef⯑ficacy in their deſence.

From this war aroſe another; for Potidaea, a city belonging to Athens, declaring for Co⯑rinth, theſe two ſtates, from being acceſſaries, became principals, and drew their forces into the field near Potidaea, where a battle enſued, in which the Athenians had the victory. It was in this battle that Socrates ſaved the life of Alcibiades, his pupil; and after the battle was over, procured him the prize of valour which he himſelf had more juſtly earned. The city of Potidaea was ſoon after beſieged in con⯑ſequence of this victory, and the Corinthians complained to the ſtates of Greece againſt the Athenians as having infringed the articles of peace. The Lacedaemonians, in particular, admitted them to an audience, where the [216] deputies of Corinth endeavoured to rouſe them into a ſenſe of their danger from the ambitious deſigns of Athens; and threatened, if left unprotected, to put themſelves under the command of a power ſtrong enough to grant them protection and ſafety. After hear⯑ing what the Athenians had to reply, the Spartans came to a cloſe debate among them⯑ſelves, wherein it was univerſally agreed, that the Athenians were the aggreſſors, and that they ſhould be reduced to a juſt ſenſe of their duty. But the diſpute was, whether war ſhould be immediately declared againſt them, or remonſtrances made to bring them to rea⯑ſon. Archidamus, one of their kings, a man of prudence and temper, was of opinion, that they were not at this time a match for Athens, and endeavoured to diſſuade them from ruſh⯑ing into a thoughtleſs and improvident war. But Sthenelaides, one of the Ephori, urged the contrary, alledging, that when once they had received an injury, they ought not to de⯑liberate, but that revenge ſhould follow in⯑ſult. Accordingly a war was declared, and all the confederates were made acquainted with the reſolution.

War being thus reſolved upon, in order to give a colour of juſtice to their deſigns, the [217] Lacedaemonians began by ſending ambaſſa⯑dors to Athens; and while they made prepara⯑tions for acting with vigour, ſtill kept up a ſhew of ſeeking redreſs by treaty. They re⯑quired of the Athenians the expulſion of ſome who had prophaned the temple of Minerva at Cylon from their city; they demanded that the ſiege of Potidaea ſhould be raiſed, and that the Athenians ſhould ceaſe to infringe upon the liberties of Greece.

Pericles now ſaw that as he had led the Athenians into a war, it was incumbent upon him to inſpire them with courage to proſecute it with ſucceſs. He ſhewed his countrymen that even trifles extorted from them with an air of command, were in themſelves a ſufficient ground for war: that they might promiſe them⯑ſelves a conſiderable ſhare of ſucceſs from the diviſion in the confederated councils of their opponents: that they had ſhipping to in⯑vade their enemies coaſts, and their city being well fortified, could not eaſily be taken by land. He concluded with telling them the abſolute neceſſity there was for war; and that the more chearfully they undertook it, the eaſier it would come to an happy concluſion. That the greateſt honours had generally recurred to their ſtate from the greateſt extremities; [218] that this might ſerve to animate them in its de⯑fence, ſo as to tranſmit it with undiminiſhed honour to poſterity. The people, giddy, fond of change, and unterrified by diſtant dangers, readily came into his opinion; and, to give ſome colour to their proceedings, ſent evaſive an⯑ſwers to the Spartan demand, and concluded with aſſerting, that they deſired to adjuſt all differences by treaty, as being unwilling to begin a war; but, in caſe of danger, would defend themſelves with deſperate reſolution.

Thus the people, from their love of change, entered haſtily into the war, but Pericles was perſonally intereſted in its declaration. He was deeply indebted to the ſtate, and knew that a time of peace was the only opportunity in which he could be called upon to ſettle his accounts. It is ſaid that Alcibiades, his ne⯑phew, ſeeing him one day very penſive, and demanding the reaſon, was anſwered, that he was conſidering how to make up his accounts. ‘"You had better, ſaid he, conſider how to avoid being accountable."’ Beſides this, Pericles find⯑ing no happineſs in domeſtic ſociety, gave himſelf up to the allurements of his miſtreſs Aſpaſia, whoſe wit and vivacity had captivat⯑ed all the poets and philoſophers of the age, even Socrates himſelf not excepted. She was [219] inclined to oppoſe the Spartan ſtate; and he, in ſome meaſure, is thought to acquieſce in her advice.

War being thus reſolved on every ſide, the firſt dawn of ſucceſs ſeemed to offer in favour of Athens; the city of Platea, that had lately declared for them, was ſurpriſed by three hundred Thebans, who were let in by a party of the town that joined in the conſpiracy. But a part of the citizens that had eſpouſed the oppoſite intereſts, falling upon them in the night, killed a part, and took two hun⯑dred priſoners, who a little time after were put to death. The Athenians, as ſoon as the news was brought of this action, ſent ſuccours and proviſions thither, and cleared the city of all perſons who were incapable of bearing arms. From this time all Greece appeared in motion, every part of it took a ſide in the common quar⯑rel, except a few ſtates who continued neuter till they ſhould ſee the event of the war. The majority were for the Lacedaemonians, as be⯑ing the deliverers of Greece, and eſpouſed their intereſts with ardour. On their ſide were rang⯑ed the Achaians, the inhabitants of Pellene excepted, the people Megara, Locris, Boeotia, Phocis, Ambracia, Leucadia, and Anactorium. On the ſide of Athens, were the people of [220] Chios, Leſbos, Platea, many of the iſlands, and ſeveral tributary maritime ſtates, includ⯑ing thoſe of Thrace, Potidaea excepted.

The Lacedaemonians immediately after their attempt upon Platea aſſembled a body of men, making up with their confederates ſixty thouſand in number: Archidamus, who commanded the army, harrangued them in an animated ſpeech. He told them, that the eyes of all Greece were upon them; that they were ſupe⯑rior in numbers, and were to oppoſe an enemy not only inferior in number, but oppreſſed with the conſciouſneſs of their own violence and injuſtice. He exhorted them to march boldly into the country they were about to enter, with that courage for which they had been long famous, and that caution which was requiſite againſt ſo inſidious an ad⯑verſary. The whole army anſwered with an acclamation of joy; and thus, that war which was to be the deſtruction of Greece, was com⯑menced in a phrenſy of tranſport by its ſhort⯑ſighted inhabitants, who hurried on to mutual ruin.

Pericles, on the other hand, prepared his ſcanty body of Athenians to meet the threa⯑tened blow. He declared to the Athenians, that ſhould Archidamus, when he was laying [221] waſte the Athenian territories, ſpare any part of thoſe lands that belonged to Pericles him⯑ſelf, he would only conſider it as a trick to impoſe upon Athenian credulity; he, there⯑fore, gave up all his property in thoſe lands, and reſigned them back to the ſtate, from which his anceſtors had originally received them. He remonſtrated to the people, that it was their intereſt to contract the war, and to let the enemy conſume themſelves by delay. He adviſed them to remove all their effects from their country, and to ſhut themſelves up in Athens, without ever hazarding a battle. Their troops indeed were but very ſcanty com⯑pared to thoſe they were to oppoſe; they amounted but to thirteen thouſand heavy arm⯑ed ſoldiers, ſixteen thouſand inhabitants, and twelve hundred horſe, with a body of archers about double that number. This was the whole army of the Athenians, but their chief ſtrength conſiſted in a fleet of three hundred gallies, which, by continually infeſting and plundering the enemies coaſt, raiſed contribu⯑tions ſufficient to defray the expences of the war.

Impreſt with the exhortation of Pericles, the Athenians, with a mixture of grief and reſolu⯑tion, forſook the culture of their fields, and [222] carried all their poſſeſſions that could be con⯑veyed away with them into Athens. They had now enjoyed the ſweets of peace for near fifty years, and their lands wore an appearance of wealth and induſtry; but from the fate of war they were once more obliged to forſake culture for encampment, the ſweets of rural life for their ſhocks of battle.

In the mean time, the Lacedaemonians en⯑tered the country at Oenoe, a frontier fortreſs, and leaving it behind them, marched forward to Acharne, an unwalled town, within ſeven miles of Athens. The Athenians, terrified at their ap⯑proach, now began to convert their fury againſt the enemy into reproaches againſt their former leader. They abuſed him for bringing them into a war, in which he had not ſtrength to oppoſe, nor courage to protect; they loudly deſired, notwith⯑ſtanding the inferiority of their number, to be led into the field of battle. Pericles, however, choſe the more moderate part. He ſhut up the city gates, placed ſufficient guards at all the poſts around, ſent out parties of horſe to keep the enemy employed; and, at the ſame time, ordered out one hundred gallies to infeſt the coaſts of Peloponneſus. Theſe pre⯑cautions at laſt ſucceeded; after the Lacedae⯑monians had laid waſte the whole country [223] round Athens, and inſulted the defenders of the city by their numbers and their reproaches, finding the place impregnable, they abandon⯑ed the ſiege, and the inhabitants once more iſſued from their walls in joy and ſecurity.

The Athenians after this ſevere mortifica⯑tion, reſolved to retaliate: being left at liberty to act oſſenſively, as well by land as ſea, they invaded the enemies territory with their whole force in turn, and took Niſae, a ſtrong haven, with walls reaching unto the city of Nigara.

Proud of the firſt dawn of ſucceſs, the firſt campaign being elapſed, during the winter they expreſſed their triumph by public games at the funerals of thoſe that were ſlain in battle. They placed their bodies in tents three days before the funeral; upon the fourth day cof⯑fins of cyprus was ſent from the tribes to con⯑vey the bones of their relations; the proceſ⯑ſion marched with ſolemn pomp, attended by the inhabitants and ſtrangers who viſited the city; their relations and children of the ſoldiers who were killed, ſtood weeping at the ſepul⯑chre; thoſe who fell at the battle of Mara⯑thon indeed were buried on the field, but the reſt received one common interment in a place called Cerannicus. Pericles, who had contri⯑buted [224] to the ſaving of his country, contribut⯑ed alſo to its honour, and pronounced a fune⯑ral oration over them, which remains to this day, at once a mark of his eloquence and his gratitude. But the joy of the public was not confined to empty praiſes, ceremonies, and tears; a ſtipend was ſet apart for maintaining the widows and the orphans of thoſe who fell in the ſervice of their country. And thus end⯑ed the firſt year of the Peloponneſian war.

In the beginning of the enſuing ſummer, the Lacedaemonians renewed their hoſtilities, and invaded the territories of Athens with the ſame number of men as before. In this man⯑ner theſe capricious ſtates went on to harraſs and depopulate each other: but a more terri⯑ble puniſhment now began to threaten them from nature. A plague broke out in the city of Athens, a more terrible than which is ſcarcely recorded in the annals of hiſtory. It is related, that it began in Ethiopia, whence it deſcended into Egypt, from thence travelled into Libya and Perſia, and at laſt broke like a flood upon Athens. This peſtilence baffled the utmoſt efforts of art, the moſt robuſt con⯑ſtitutions were unable to withſtand its attacks, no ſkill could obviate, nor no remedy diſpel the terrible infection. The inſtant a perſon was [225] ſeized, he was ſtruck with deſpair, which quite diſabled him from attempting a cure. The humanity of friends was fatal to themſelves, as it was ineffectual to the unhappy ſufferers. The prodigious quantity of baggage which had been removed out of their country into their city increaſed the calamity. Moſt of the inhabitants, for want of lodging, lived in little cottages, in which they could ſcarce breathe, while the burning heat of the ſummer increaſed the peſtilential malignity. They were ſeen confuſedly huddled together, the dead as well as the dying, ſome crawling through the ſtreets, ſome lying along by the ſides of fountains, whither they had endeavour⯑ed to repair to quench the raging thirſt which conſumed them. Their very temples were filled with dead bodies, and every part of the city exhibited a dreadful image of death, without the leaſt remedy for the preſent, or the leaſt hopes with regard to futurity. It ſeized all with ſuch violence, that they fell one upon another as they paſſed along the ſtreets. It was alſo attended with ſuch uncommon peſti⯑lential vapours, that the very beaſts and birds of prey, though famiſhing round the walls of the city, would not touch the bodies of thoſe [226] who died of it. Even in thoſe who recovered, it left ſuch a tincture of its malignity, that it ſtruck upon their ſenſes. It effected the no⯑tices and memory of all the paſſages of their lives, and they knew neither themſelves nor their neareſt relations. The circumſtances of this diſeaſe are deſcribed at large by Thucy⯑dides, who was ſick of it himſelf; and he ob⯑ſerves, among other effects of it, that it intro⯑duced into the city a more licentious way of living. For the people at firſt had recourſe to their gods to avert that judgment; but find⯑ing they were all alike infected, whether they worſhipped them or not, and that it was ge⯑nerally mortal, they abandoned themſelves at once to deſpair and riot: for ſince they held their lives but as it were by the day, the [...] were reſolved to make the moſt of their tim [...] and money. The cauſe of it was generall [...] imputed to Pericles, who, by drawing ſuc [...] numbers into the city, was thought to hav [...] corrupted the very air. Yet, though this w [...] raging within, and the enemy waſting t [...] country without, he was ſtill in the ſame mi [...] as before, that they ought not to put all th [...] hopes upon the iſſue of a battle. In the me [...] time, the enemy advancing towards the co [...] [227] laid waſte the whole country, and returned, af⯑ter having inſulted the wretched Athenians, al⯑ready thinned by peſtilence and famine.

Fickleneſs and inconſtancy were the pre⯑vailing characters of the Athenians, and as theſe carried them on a ſudden to their greateſt exceſſes, they ſoon brought them back within the bounds of moderation and reſpect. Peri⯑cles had been long a favourite; the calamities of the ſtate at laſt began to render him obnoxi⯑ous; they had depoſed him from the command of his army, but now repented their raſhneſs; and reinſtated him a ſhort time after, with more than former authority. By dint of ſuf⯑fering, they began to bear patiently their do⯑meſtic misfortunes, and, impreſt with a love for their country, aſked pardon for their for⯑mer ingratitude. But he did not live long to enjoy his honours. He was ſeized with the plague, which, like a malignant enemy, ſtruck its ſevereſt blow at parting. Being extremely ill and ready to breathe his laſt, the principal citizens, and ſuch of his friends that had not forſaken him, diſcourſing in his bed-chamber concerning the loſs they were about to ſuſtain, ran over his exploits, and computed the num⯑ber of his victories. They did not imagine that Pericles attended to what they ſaid, as he [228] ſeemed inſenſible; but it was far otherwiſe, for not a ſingle word of their diſcourſe had eſcap⯑ed him. At laſt, cried he, why will you extol a ſeries of actions, in which fortune had the greateſt part; there is one circumſtance which I would not have forgotten, yet which you have paſſed over; I could wiſh to have it re⯑membered, as the moſt glorious circumſtance of my life,—that I never yet cauſed a ſingle citizen to put on mourning.

Thus died Pericles, in whom were united a number of excellent qualities without imparing each other. As well ſkilled in naval affairs as in the conduct of armies; as well ſkilled in the arts of raiſing money as of employing it; eloquent in public, and pleaſing in private; he was a patron of artiſts, at once informing them by his taſte and example.

The moſt memorable tranſaction of the fol⯑lowing years, was the ſiege of Platea by the Lacedaemonians. This was one of the moſt famous ſieges in antiquity, on account of the vigorous efforts of both parties, but eſpecially for the glorious reſiſtance made by the beſieged, and the ſtratagems to eſcape the fury of the aſſailants.

The Lacedaemonians beſieged this place in the beginning of the third campaign. As ſoon as [229] they had fixed their camp round the city, in order to lay waſte the places adjacent, the Plataeans ſent deputies to the Lacedaemonian general, declaring the injuſtice of injuring them, who had received their liberties on a former occaſion from the Lacedaemonians themſelves. The Lacedaemonians replied, that there was but one method to inſure their ſafety, which was to renew that alliance by which they had originally procured their freedom; to diſclaim their Athenian ſupporters, and to unite with the Lacedaemonians, who had power and will to protect them. The deputies replied, they could not poſſibly come to any agreement without firſt ſending to Athens, whither their wives and children were retired. The Lacedaemonians permitted them to ſend thither, and the Athenians ſolemnly promiſing to ſuccour them to the utmoſt of their power, the Plataeans reſolved to ſuffer the laſt extremi⯑ties rather than ſurrender, and prepared for a vigorous defence, with a ſteady reſolution to ſucceed or fall.

Archidamus, the Lacedaemonian general, after calling upon the gods to witneſs that he did not firſt infringe the alliance, prepared for the ſiege with equal perſeverance. He ſur⯑rounded the city with a circumvallation of trees, [230] which were laid very cloſe together, their branches turned towards the city. He then raiſed batteries upon them, and formed a terrace ſufficient to ſupport his warlike ma⯑chines. His army worked night and day without intermiſſion ſor ſeventy days, one half of the ſoldiers repoſing themſelves while the others were at work.

The beſieged obſerving the works begin to riſe round them, threw up a wooden wall up⯑on the walls of the city, oppoſite the platform, in order that they might always out-top the be⯑ſiegers. This wall was covered on the outſide with hydes both raw and dry, in order to ſhel⯑ter it from the beſiegers fires. Thus both walls ſeemed to vie with each other for ſupe⯑riority, till at laſt the beſieged, without amuſ⯑ing themſelves at this work any longer, built another within in the form of a half moon, be⯑hind which they might retire in caſe their outer works were forced.

In the mean time, the beſiegers having mounted their engines of war, ſhook the city wall in a very terrible manner; which, though it alarmed the citizens, did not however diſ⯑courage them: they employed every art that fortification could ſuggeſt againſt the enemy's batteries. They catched with ropes the heads [231] of the battering rams that were urged againſt them, and deadened their force with levers. The beſiegers finding their attack did not go on ſucceſsfully, and that a new wall was raiſed againſt their platform, deſpaired of being able to ſtorm the place; and, therefore, changed the ſiege into a blockade, after having vainly attempted to ſet fire to the city, which was ſuddenly quenched by a ſhower. The city was now ſurrounded by a brick wall, ſuddenly erected, ſtrengthened on each ſide by a deep ditch. The whole army was engaged ſucceſ⯑ſively upon this wall, and when it was finiſhed they left a guard over half of it; the Boeoti⯑ans offering to guard the other half, while the reſt of the army returned to Sparta.

In this manner the wretched Plataeans were cooped up by a ſtrong wall without any hopes of redreſs, and only awaited the mercy of the conqueror. There were now in Plataea but four hundred inhabitants, and fourſcore Athenians, with an hundred and ten women to dreſs their victuals, and no other perſon, whether freeman or ſlave, all the reſt having having been ſent to Athens before the ſiege. At laſt the inhabitants of Plataea having loſt all hopes of ſuccour, and being in the utmoſt want of proviſions, formed a reſolution to cut [232] their way through the enemy. But half of them ſtruck with the greatneſs of the danger, and the boldneſs of the enterprize, entirely loſt courage when they came to the execution, but the reſt (who were about two hundred and twenty ſoldiers) perſiſted in their reſolution, and eſcaped in the following manner. The beſieged firſt took the height of the wall, by counting the rows of bricks which compoſed it, and this they did at different times, and employed ſeveral men for that purpoſe, in or⯑der that they might not miſtake in the calcula⯑tion. This was the eaſier, becauſe as the wall ſtood but at a ſmall diſtance, every part of it was very viſible. They then made ladders of a proper length. All things being now ready for executing the deſign, the beſieged left the city one night when there was no moon, in the midſt of a ſtorm of wind and rain. After croſſ⯑ing the firſt ditch they drew near the wall un⯑diſcovered through the darkneſs of the night, not to mention that the noiſe made by the rain and wind prevented their being heard. They marched at ſome diſtance from one another, to prevent the claſhing of their arms, which were light, in order that thoſe who carried them might be the more active; and one of their legs was naked, to keep them from ſlid⯑ing [233] ſo eaſily in the mire. Thoſe who carried the ladders laid them in the ſpace between the towers, where they knew no guard was poſted, becauſe it rained. That inſtant twelve men mounted the ladders, armed with only a coat of mail and a dagger, and marched directly to the towers, ſix on each ſide. They were fol⯑lowed by ſoldiers armed only with javelins, that they might mount the eaſier, and their ſhields were carried after them to be uſed in the charge. When moſt of theſe were got to the top of the wall, they were diſcovered by the falling of a tile, which one of their com⯑rades in taking hold of the parapet had thrown down. The alarm was immediately given from the towers, and the whole army ap⯑proached the wall, without diſcovering the oc⯑caſion of the outcry from the gloom of the night and the violence of the ſtorm. Beſides which, thoſe who had ſtaid behind in the city, beat an alarm at the ſame time in another quarter, to make a diverſion, ſo that the ene⯑my did not know which way to turn themſelves, and were afraid to quit their poſts. But a corps de reſerve of three hundred men, who were kept for any unforeſeen accident that might happen, quitted the contravallation, and ran to that part where they heard the noiſe, [234] and torches were held up towards Thebes, to ſhew that they muſt run that way. But thoſe in the city, to render the ſignal of no uſe, made others at the ſame time in different quar⯑ters, having prepared them on the walls for that purpoſe. In the mean time, thoſe who had mounted firſt having poſſeſſed themſelves of the two towers which flanked the interval where the ladders were ſet, and having killed thoſe who guarded them, poſted themſelves there to defend the paſſage, and keep off the beſiegers. Then ſetting ladders on the top of the wall betwixt the two towers, they cauſed a good number of their comrades to mount, in order to keep off, by the diſcharge of their arrows, as well thoſe who were advancing to the foot of the wall, as the others who were haſtening to the neighbouring towers. Whilſt this was doing they had time to ſet up ſeveral ladders, and to throw down the parapet, that the reſt might come up with greater eaſe. As faſt as they came up, they went down on the other ſide, and drew up near the foſſe, on the outſide, to ſhoot at thoſe who appeared. Af⯑ter they were paſſed over, the men who were in the towers came down laſt, and made to the foſſe to follow after the reſt. That inſtant the guard, with three hundred torches came [235] up. However, as the Plataeans ſaw their ene⯑mies by this light better than they were ſeen by them, they therefore took a ſurer aim, by which means the laſt croſſed the ditch without being attacked in their paſſage. However, this was not done without much difficulty, becauſe the ditch was frozen over, and the ice would not bear on account of thaw and heavy rains. The violence of the ſtorm was of great advantage to them. After all were paſſed they took the road towards Thebes, the better to conceal their retreat, becauſe it was not likely they had fled towards a city of the enemy's. Imme⯑diately they perceived the beſiegers with torches in their hands purſuing them in the road that led to Athens. After keeping that of Thebes about ſix or ſeven ſtadia, they turn⯑ed ſhort towards the mountain, and reſumed the route of Athens, whither two hundred and twelve arrived out of two hundred and twenty, who had quitted the place, the reſt having re⯑turned back to it through fear, one archer ex⯑cepted, who was taken on the ſide of the foſſe of contravallation. The beſiegers, after hav⯑ing purſued them to no purpoſe, returned to their camp. In the mean time, the Plataeans, who remained in the city, ſuppoſing that all their companions had been killed, (becauſe thoſe [236] who were returned, to juſtify themſelves, af⯑firmed they were) ſent a herald to demand their dead bodies, but being told the true ſtate of the affair, he withdrew. At the end of the following campaign, the Plataeans being in abſolute want of proviſions, and unable to make the leaſt defence, ſurrendered upon con⯑dition that they ſhould not be puniſhed till they had been tried and adjudged in form of juſtice. Five commiſſioners came for this purpoſe from Lacedaemon, and theſe without charging them with any crime, barely aſked them whether they had done any ſervice to the Lacedaemonians and the allies in this war? The Plataeans were much ſurpriſed, as well as puzzled at this queſtion, and were ſenſible, that it had been ſuggeſted by the Thebans, their profeſſed enemies, who had vowed their deſtruction. They, therefore, put the Lace⯑daemonians in mind of the ſervices they had done to Greece in general, both at the battle of Artemiſium and that of Plataea, and particular⯑ly in Lacedaemonia at the time of the earth⯑quake, which was followed by the revolt of their ſlaves. The only reaſon they declared their having joined the Athenians afterwards, was to defend themſelves from the hoſtilities of the Thebans, againſt whom they had im⯑plored [237] the aſſiſtance of the Lacedaemonians to no purpoſe. That if that was imputed to them as a crime, which was only their misfortune, it ought not, however, entirely to obliterate the remembrance of their former ſervices. ‘"Caſt your eyes, ſaid they, on the monuments of your anceſtors which you ſee here, to whom we annually pay all the honours which can be rendered to the names of the dead. You thought fit to intruſt their bodies with us, as we were eye-witneſſes of their bravery. And yet you will now give up their aſhes to their murtherers, in abandoning us to the Thebans who fought againſt them at the battle of Pla⯑taea? Will you enſlave a province where Greece recovered its liberty? Will you deſtroy the temples of thoſe gods to whom you owed the victory? Will you aboliſh the memory of their founders who contributed ſo greatly to your ſafety? On this occaſion, we may ven⯑ture to ſay, our intereſt is inſeparable from your glory, and you cannot deliver up your ancient friends and benefactors to the unjuſt hatred of the Thebans, without eternal infamy to yourſelves."’ One would conclude, that theſe juſt remonſtrances ſhould have made ſome impreſſion on the Lacedaemonians, but they were biaſſed more by the anſwer the [238] Thebans made, and which was expreſſed in the moſt haughty and bitter terms againſt the Plataeans; and beſides, they had brought their inſtructions from Lacedaemon. They ſtood, therefore, to their firſt queſtion, Whether the Plataeans had done them any ſervice ſince the war? and making them paſs one after another, as they ſeverally anſwered No, each was imme⯑diately butchered, and not one eſcaped. About two hundred were killed in this man⯑ner, and twenty-five Athenians, who were among them, met with the ſame unhappy fate. Their wives, who had been taken pri⯑ſoners, were made ſlaves. The Thebans af⯑terwards peopled their city with exiles from Megara and Plataea, but the year after they demoliſhed it entirely. It was in this manner the Lacedaemonians, in the hopes of reaping great advantages from the Thebans, ſacrificed the Plataeans to their animoſity, ninety-three years after their firſt alliance with the Athenians.

I paſs over ſeveral particular incidents of the ſucceeding campaign, in which the Gre⯑cian ſtates mutually deſtroyed each other, without promoting general happineſs, or eſta⯑bliſhing any common form of government. The fluctuations of ſucceſs were various. The Athenians took the city of Pylus from the La⯑cedaemonians; [239] and they, on the other hand, made annual incurſions into Attica. More than one overture for a peace was made by Cleon, who had a great aſcendant among the Athenians, and prevented their taking effect. The war was, therefore, renewed with all its former animoſities. The iſland of Pylus be⯑came the ſcene of mutual contention. De⯑moſthenes, who afterwards became the cele⯑brated orator, being joined in commiſſion with Cleon, landed on the iſland, in order to diſ⯑poſſeſs the Lacedaemonians, who ſtill remain⯑ed there. They attacked the enemy with great vigour, drove them from poſt to poſt, and gaining ground perpetually, at laſt forced them to the extremity of the iſland. The La⯑cedaemonians had ſtormed a fort that was thought inacceſſible. There they drew up in battle array, faced about to that ſide only where they could be attacked, and defended themſelves like ſo many lions. As the engage⯑ment had held the greateſt part of the day, and the ſoldiers were oppreſſed with heat and wearineſs, and parched with thirſt, the gene⯑ral of the Meſſenians directed himſelf to Cleon and Demoſthenes, ſaid, that all their efforts would be to no purpoſe, unleſs they charged their enemy's rear, and promiſed, if they [240] would give him but ſome troops, armed with miſſive weapons, that he would endeavour to find a paſſage. Accordingly, he and his fol⯑lowers climbed up certain ſteep and craggy places, which were not guarded, when, com⯑ing down unperceived into the fort, he ap⯑peared on a ſudden at the backs of the Lace⯑daemonians, which entirely damped their cou⯑rage, and afterwards completed their over⯑throw. They now made but a very feeble re⯑ſiſtance, and being oppreſſed with numbers, attacked on all ſides, and dejected through fatigue and deſpair, they began to give way: but the Athenians ſeized on all the paſſes to cut off their retreat. Cleon and Demoſthenes finding, that ſhould the battle continue, not a man of them would eſcape, and being deſirous of carrying them alive to Athens, they commanded their ſoldiers to deſiſt, and cauſed proclama⯑tion to be made by a herald for them to lay down their arms, and ſurrender at diſcretion. At theſe words the greateſt part lowered their ſhields, and clapped their hands in token of approbation. A kind of ſuſpenſion of arms was agreed upon, and their commander deſir⯑ed leave might be granted him to diſpatch a meſſenger to the camp to know the reſolution of the generals. This was not allowed, but [241] they called heralds from the coaſt, and after ſeveral meſſages, a Lacedaemonian advanced forward, and cried aloud, that they were per⯑mitted to treat with the enemy, provided they did not ſubmit to diſhonourable terms. Up⯑on this, they held a conference, after which they ſurrendered at diſcretion, and were kept till the next day. The Athenians then raiſing a trophy, and reſtoring the Lacedaemonians their dead, embarked for their own country, after diſtributing the priſoners among the ſeveral ſhips, and committing the guard of them to the captains of the gallies. In this battle one hundred and twenty-eight Lacedaemonians fell out of four hundred and twenty, which was their number at firſt, ſo that there ſurvived not quite three hundred, an hundred and twenty of whom were inhabitants of the city of Sparta. The ſiege of the iſland (to compute from the beginning of it, includ⯑ing the time employed in the truce) had laſted threeſcore and twelve days. They all now left Pylus, and Cleon's promiſe, though ſo vain and raſh, was found literally true. But the moſt ſurpriſing circumſtance was the capitulation that had been made; for, it was believed, that the Lacedaemonians, ſo far from ſurren⯑dering their arms, would die ſword-in hand. [242] Being come to Athens, they were ordered to remain priſoners till a peace ſhould be con⯑cluded, provided the Lacedaemonians did not make any incurſions into their country, for that then they ſhould all be put to death. They left a garriſon in Pylus. The Meſſenians of Naupactus, who had formerly poſſeſſed it, ſent thither the flower of their youth, who very much infeſted the Lacedaemonians by their in⯑curſions; and, as theſe Meſſenians ſpoke the language of the country, they prevailed with a great number of ſlaves to join them. The La⯑cedaemonians dreading a greater evil, ſent ſe⯑veral deputations to Athens, but to no pur⯑poſe, the Athenians being too much elated with their proſperity, and eſpecially their late ſucceſs, to liſten to any terms. For two or three years ſucceſſively hoſtilities were carried on with alternate ſucceſs, and nothing but the humbling of the one or the other of the two rival ſtates could decide the quarrel. The Athenians made themſelves maſters of the iſland of Cythera; but, on the other hand, were defeated by the Lacedaemonians at Del⯑lion. At length, the two nations began to grow weary of a war, which put them to great expence, and did not procure them any real advantage. A truce for a year was, there⯑fore, [243] concluded between them, which being expired, ſerved to pave the way for a more laſt⯑ing reconciliation. The death of the two ge⯑nerals that commanded the contending armies, ſerved not a little to haſten this event. Braſſi⯑das, the Lacedaemonian, was killed as he was conducting a ſally, when beſieged in Amphi⯑polis; and Cleon, the Athenian, deſpiſing an enemy to which he knew himſelf ſuperior, was ſet upon unawares, and, ſlying for ſafety, was killed by a ſoldier who happened to meet him. Thus, theſe two men, who had long oppoſed the tranquillity of Greece, and raiſed their re⯑putations but in a very different way, fell a ſa⯑crifice to their own ambition.

They were, however, men of very oppoſite characters. Braſidas had courage and conduct, moderation and integrity; and, it was he alone who at this time kept up the ſinking re⯑putation of his country. He was the only Spartan ſince Pauſanias who appeared with any eſtabliſhed character among the confederates, to whom he behaved ſo well, that they were again brought under the dependence of Sparta; and ſeveral cities came in to him as their common deliverer from the tyranny of Athens. The inhabitants of Amphipolis, beſides their join⯑ing with the other allies in ſolemnizing his fu⯑neral [244] in a public manner, inſtituted anniver⯑ſary games, and ſacrifices to his memory as an hero; and ſo far conſidered him as their foun⯑der, that they deſtroyed all the monuments which had been preſerved as marks of their be⯑ing an Athenian colony. His oppoſition to the peace was not ſo much the effects of his obſtinacy, as of a true Spartan zeal for the honour of his country, which he was ſenſible had been treated by the Athenians with too much inſolence and contempt. He had now a fair proſpect of bringing them to reaſon, as he was gaining ground upon them, and every day making freſh conqueſts: and, however he might be tranſported with the glory of per⯑forming great actions, yet the main end of his ambition ſeems to have been, the bringing the war to an happy concluſion, I muſt not here omit the generous anſwer his mother made to the perſons who brought her the news of his death. Upon her aſking them whether he died honourably, they naturally fell into enco⯑miums on his great exploits, and his perſonal bravery, and preferred him to all the generals of his time; ‘"Yes, ſaid ſhe, my ſon was a valiant man, but Sparta has ſtill many citi⯑zens braver than he."’

Cleon was another ſort of m [...]n. He was raſh, [245] arrogant, and obſtinate, contentious, envious, and malicious, covetous and corrupt, and yet, with all theſe bad qualities, he had ſome little arts of popularity which raiſed and ſupported him. He made it his buſineſs to careſs the old men; and, as much as he loved money, he often re⯑lieved the poor. He had a ready wit, with a way of drollery, that took with many, though with the generality it paſſed for impudence and buffoonry. He had one very refined way of recommending himſelf, which was, upon his coming into power, to diſcard all his old friends, for fear it ſhould be thought he would be biaſſed by them. At the ſame time, he picked up a vile ſet of ſycophants in their room, and made a ſervile court to the loweſt dregs of the people; and yet, even they had ſo bad an opinion of him, that they often de⯑clared againſt him for Nicias, his profeſſed enemy; who, though he took part with the no⯑bility, ſtill preſerved an intereſt in the com⯑mons, and was more generally reſpected. That which Cleon chiefly depended on, was his elo⯑quence; but it was of a boiſterous kind, ver⯑boſe and petulant, and conſiſted more in the vehemence of his ſtyle and utterance, and the diſtortion of his action and geſture, than in the ſtrength of his reaſoning. By this furious [246] manner of harranguing, he introduced among the orators and ſtateſmen a licentiouſneſs and indecency which were not known before, and which gave riſe to the many riotous and diſor⯑derly proceedings which were afterwards in the aſſemblies, when almoſt every thing was carried by noiſe and tumult. In the military part of his ſervice, he was as unaccountable as in the reſt of his conduct. He was not na⯑turally formed for war, and only made uſe of it as a cloak for his ill practices, and becauſe he could not carry on his other views without it. His taking Sphacteria was certainly a great action, but it was a raſh and deſperate one; and it has been ſhewn how he was unde⯑ſignedly drawn into it by a boaſt of his own. However, he was ſo elated with the ſuc⯑ceſs of that expedition, that he fancied himſelf a general, and the people were brought to have the ſame opinion. But the event ſoon undeceived them, and convinced them that he knew better how to lead in the aſſembly than in the field. In reality, he was not a man to be truſted in either. For, in the one he was more of a bluſterer than of a ſol⯑dier, and in the other, he had more of an in⯑cendiary than of a patriot.

The Lacedaemonians were no leſs inclined to [247] peace than the Athenians and were glad to treat at this time while they could do it with honour: beſides, they had nothing more at heart than the impriſonment of their men taken at Pylus, they being the chief of their city; and, among other conſiderations, it was not the leaſt, that the truce which they had made for Argos for thirty years, was juſt upon expiring. This was a ſtrong and flouriſhing city, and though it was not of itſelf a match for Sparta, yet they knew it was far from being contemptible, and that it held too good a correſpondence with its neighbours, not to make itſelf capable of giv⯑ing them a great deal of uneaſineſs. The mat⯑ter having been canvaſſed and debated moſt part of the winter, the Lacedaemonians, to bring the treaty to a concluſion, gave out, that they reſolved as ſoon as the ſeaſon would per⯑mit to fortify in Attica. Upon which, the Athenians grew more moderate in their de⯑mands, and a peace was concluded in the tenth year of the war between the two ſtates and their confederates for fifty years. The chief articles being, that the garriſons ſhould be eva⯑cuated, and the towns and priſoners reſtored on both ſides. This was called the Nician peace, becauſe Nicias, who was juſt the reverſe of his rival Cleon, was the chief inſtrument in [248] it. Beſides the tender concern he always ex⯑preſſed for his country, he had more particu⯑lar ends in it, in ſecuring his reputation. For he had been upon many expeditions, and had generally ſucceeded in them; but yet he was ſenſible how much he owed to his good for⯑tune and his cautious management, and he did not care to riſque what he had already got for the hopes of more.

CHAP. VIII. From the Peace of NICIAS to the end of the PELOPONNESSIAN War.

EVERY thing now promiſed a reſtoration of former tranquillity. The Boeotians and Co⯑rinthians were the firſt that ſhewed ſigns of diſcontent, and uſed their utmoſt endeavours to excite freſh troubles. To obviate any dan⯑gers ariſing from that quarter, the Athenians and Lacedaemonians united in a league offenſive and defenſive, which ſerved to render them more formidable to their neighbouring ſtates, and more aſſured with regard to each other. Yet ſtill the former animoſities and jealouſies fermented at bottom, and while friendſhip [249] ſeemed to gloſs over external appearances, freſh diſcontents were gathering below. The character indeed of Nicias was peaceable, and he did all in his power to perſuade the Athe⯑nians to cultivate their general tranquillity. But a new promoter of troubles was now be⯑ginning to make his appearance, and from him, thoſe who wiſhed for peace had every thing to fear. This was no other than the celebrated Alcibiades, the diſciple of Socrates, a youth equally remarkable for the beauty of his per⯑ſon and the greatneſs of his mental accom⯑pliſhments.

The ſtrict intimacy between Alcibiades and Socrates is one of the moſt remarkable cir⯑cumſtances of his life. This philoſopher ob⯑ſerving excellent natural qualities in him, which were greatly heightened by the beauty of his perſon, beſtowed incredible pains in cul⯑tivating ſo valuable a plant, leſt, being neglect⯑ed, it ſhould wither as it grew, and abſolutely degenerate: and, indeed, Alcibiades was ex⯑poſed to numberleſs dangers; the greatneſs of his extraction, his vaſt riches, the authority of his family, the credit of his guardians, his perſonal talents, his exquiſite beauty, and, ſtill more than theſe, the flattery and complaiſance of all who approached him. One would have [250] concluded, ſays Plutarch, that fortune had ſurrounded and inveſted him with all theſe pretended advantages, as with ſo many ram⯑parts and bulwarks, to render him inacceſſible and invulnerable to all the darts of philoſophy, thoſe ſalutary darts which ſtrike to the very heart, and leave in it the ſtrongeſt incitements to virtue and ſolid glory. But thoſe very ob⯑ſtacles redoubled the zeal of Socrates. Not⯑withſtanding the ſtrong endeavours that were uſed to divert this young Athenian from a cor⯑reſpondence which alone was capable of ſecur⯑ing him from ſo many ſnares, he devoted himſelf entirely to it; he had the moſt unbounded wit; he was fully ſenſible of Socrates's extraordinary merit, and could not reſiſt the charms of his ſweetly inſinuating eloquence, which at that time had a greater aſcendent over him than the allurements of pleaſure. He was ſo zeal⯑ous a diſciple of that great maſter, that he fol⯑lowed him wherever he went, took the utmoſt delight in his converſation, was extremely well pleaſed with his principles, received his inſtructions, and even his reprimands, with wonderful docility, and was ſo moved with his diſcourſes, as even to ſhed tears and abhor himſelf; ſo weighty was the force of truth in the mouth of Socrates, and in ſo [251] odious a light did he expoſe the vices to which Alcibiades abandoned himſelf. Alci⯑biades in thoſe moments when he liſtened to Socrates, differed ſo much from himſelf, that he appeared quite another man. However, his head-ſtrong fiery temper, and his natural fond⯑neſs for pleaſure, which was heightened and inflamed by the diſcourſes and advice of young people, ſoon plunged him into his former irre⯑gularities, and tore him as it were from his maſter [...], who was obliged to purſue him as a ſlave who had eſcaped correction. This viciſſi⯑tude of flights and returns of virtuous reſolu⯑tions and relapſes into vice, continued a long time, but ſtill Socrates was not diſguſted by his levity, and always flattered himſelf with the hopes of bringing him back to his duty; and hence certainly aroſe the ſtrong mixture of good and evil that always appeared in his conduct; the inſtructions which his maſter had given him ſometimes prevailing, and, at other times, the fire of his paſſions hurrying him, in a manner, againſt his own will into things of a quite oppoſite nature. Among the various paſſions that were diſcovered in him, the ſtrongeſt and moſt prevailing was a haughty turn of mind, which would force all things to ſubmit to it, and could not bear a ſuperior, [252] or even an equal. Although his birth and un⯑common talents ſmoothed the way to his at⯑taining the higheſt employments in the re⯑public, there was nothing however to which he was ſo fond of owing the credit and autho⯑rity he wanted to gain over the people, as to the force of his eloquence, and the perſuaſive grace of his orations. To this, his intimacy with Socrates might be of great ſervice. Al⯑cibiades with ſuch a caſt of mind as we here deſcribed, was not born for repoſe, and had ſet every engine at work to traverſe the treaty lately concluded between the two ſtates, but not ſucceeding in his attempt, he endeavoured to prevent its taking effect. He was diſguſted at the Lacedaemonians, becauſe they directed themſelves only to Nicias, of whom they had a very high opinion; and, on the contrary, ſeemed to take no manner of notice of him, though his anceſtors had enjoyed the rights of hoſpitality among them. The firſt thing he did to infringe the peace was this: having been informed that the people of Argos only wanted an opportunity to break with the Spar⯑tans, whom they equally hated and feared, he flattered them ſecretly with the hopes that the Athenians would ſuccour them, by ſuggeſt⯑ing to them, that they were ready to break a [253] peace which was no way advantageous to them. Accordingly, he laid hold of this junc⯑ture, and improved the pretext the Lacedae⯑monians had given to exaſperate the people both againſt them and Nicias; which had ſo good an effect, that every thing ſeemed diſpoſ⯑ed for a treaty with Argos: of which, the La⯑cedaemonians being very apprehenſive, imme⯑diately diſpatched their ambaſſadors to Athens, who at firſt ſaid what ſeemed very ſatisfactory, that they came with full power to concert all matters in difference upon equal terms. The council received their propoſitions, and the people were to aſſemble the next day to give them audience. Alcibiades, in the mean while, fearing leſt this negociation would ruin his deſigns, had a ſecret conference with the ambaſſadors, and perſuaded them, under a co⯑lour of friendſhip, not to let the people know at firſt what full powers their commiſſion gave them, but intimate, that they came only to treat and make propoſals, for that otherwiſe they would grow inſolent in their demands, and extort from them ſuch unreaſonable terms as they could not with honour conſent to. They were ſo well ſatisfied with the prudence and ſincerity of this advice, that he drew them from Nicias to rely intirely upon himſelf: and, the [254] next day, when the people were aſſembled, and the ambaſſadors introduced, Alcibiades, with a very obliging air, demanded of them with what powers they were come? They made anſwer, that they were not come as plenipo⯑tentiaries. Upon which he inſtantly changed his voice and countenance, and exclaiming againſt them as notorious liars, bid the people take care how they tranſacted any thing with men on whom they could have ſo little depen⯑dence. The people diſmiſſed the ambaſſadors in a rage, and Nicias knowing nothing of the deceit, was confounded and in diſgrace. To redeem his credit, he propoſed being ſent once more to Sparta: but not being able to gain ſuch terms there as the Athenians demanded, they immediately upon his return ſtruck up a league with the Argives for an hundred years, including the Eleans and Mantineans, which yet did not in terms cancel that with the Lace⯑daemonians, though it is plain, that the whole intent of it was levelled againſt them. Upon this new alliance, Alcibiades was declared ge⯑neral; and though his beſt friends could not commend the method by which he brought about his deſigns, yet it was looked upon as a great reach in politics, thus to divide and ſhake almoſt all Peloponneſus, and to remove [255] the war ſo far from the Athenian frontier, that even ſucceſs would profit the enemy but little ſhould they be conquerors; whereas, if they were defeated, Sparta itſelf would be hardly ſafe.

This defection of the confederates began to awaken the jealouſy of Sparta, they reſolved, therefore, to remedy the evil before it ſpread too far; wherefore, drawing out their whole force, both of citizens and ſlaves, and being joined by their allies, they encamped almoſt under the walls of Argos. The Argives hav⯑ing notice of their march, made all poſſible preparations, and came out with a full reſolu⯑tion to fight them. But juſt as they were go⯑ing to engage, two of their officers went over to Agis, the Spartan king and general, and propoſed to him to have the buſineſs made up by a reference. He immediately cloſing with the offer, in order to it, granted them a truce for four months, and drew off his army; the whole affair being tranſacted by theſe three, without any general conſent or knowledge on either ſide. The Peloponneſians, though they durſt not diſobey their orders, inveighed griev⯑ouſly againſt Agis for letting ſuch an advantage ſlip as they could never promiſe to themſelves again. For they had actually hemmed in the [256] enemy, and that with the beſt, if not the greateſt army, that ever was brought into the field. And the Argives were ſo little appre⯑henſive of danger on their ſide, that they were no leſs incenſed againſt their mediators, one of whom they forced to the altars to ſave his life, and confiſcated his goods.

Thus every thing ſeemed to favour the Athe⯑nian intereſt; and their proſperity, for this was the moſt flouriſhing period of their duration, blinded them to ſuch a degree, that they were perſuaded no power was able to reſiſt them. In this diſpoſition they reſolved to take the firſt opportunity of adding the iſland of Sicily to their empire, and ſoon an occaſion offered to their wiſh. Ambaſſadors were ſent from the people of Egeſta, who, in quality of their allies, came to implore their aid againſt the inhabi⯑tants of Selinuta, who were aſſiſted by the Syracuſans. It was the ſixteenth year of the Peloponneſian war. They repreſented, among other things, that ſhould they be abandoned, the Syracuſans, after ſeizing their city, as they had done that of Leontium, would poſſeſs themſelves of all Sicily, and not fail to aid the Peloponneſians, who were their founders; and, that they might put them to as little charge as poſſible, they offered to pay the troops that [257] ſhould be ſent to ſuccour them. The Athe⯑nians, who had long waited for an opportuni⯑ty to declare themſelves, ſent deputies to Egeſta to enquire into the ſtate of affairs, and to ſee whether there was money enough in the treaſury to defray the expence of ſo great a war. The inhabitants of that city had been ſo artful as to borrow from the neighbouring na⯑tions a great number of gold and ſilver vaſes, worth an immenſe ſum of money, and of theſe they made a ſhew when the Athenians arrived. The deputies returned with thoſe of Egeſta, who carried threeſcore talents in ingots, as a month's pay for the gallies which they de⯑manded and a promiſe of larger ſums, which they ſaid were ready both in the public treaſury and in the temples. The people ſtruck with theſe fair appearances, the truth of which they did not give themſelves the leiſure to examine; and, ſeduced by the advantageous reports which their deputies made with the view of pleaſing them, immediately granted the Egeſ⯑tans their demand, and appointed Alcibiades, Nicias, and Lamachus, to command the fleet, with full power not only to ſuccour Egeſta, and reſtore the inhabitants of Leontium to their city, but alſo to regulate the affairs of Sicily, in ſuch a manner as might beſt ſuit the [258] intereſts of the republic. Nicias was appoint⯑ed one of the generals to his very great regret; for, beſides other motives, which made him dread that command, he ſhunned it becauſe Alcibiades was to be his colleague. But the Athenians promiſed themſelves greater ſucceſs from this war, ſhould they not reſign the whole conduct of it to Alcibiades, but temper his ardour and audacity with the coldneſs and wiſdom of Nicias. Nicias not daring to op⯑poſe Alcibiades openly, endeavoured to do it indirectly, by ſtarting a great number of dif⯑ficulties, drawn particularly from the great ex⯑pence of this expedition. He declared, that ſince they were reſolved upon war, they ought to carry it on in ſuch a manner as might ſuit the exalted reputation to which Athens had at⯑tained. That a fleet was not ſufficient to op⯑poſe ſo formidable a power as that of the Syra⯑cuſans and their allies: that they muſt raiſe an army compoſed of good horſe and foot, if they deſired to act in a manner worthy of ſo noble a deſign; that, beſides their fleet, which was to make them maſters at ſea, they muſt have a great number of tranſports to carry pro⯑viſions perpetually to the army, which otherwiſe could not poſſibly ſubſiſt in an enemy's country: that they muſt carry vaſt ſums of money with [259] them, without waiting for that promiſed them by the citizens of Egeſta, who perhaps were ready in words only, and very probably might break their promiſe: that they ought to weigh and examine the diſparity there was between themſelves and their enemies with regard to the conveniencies and wants of the army, the Syracuſans being in their own country, in the midſt of powerful allies, diſpoſed by inclina⯑tion, as well as engaged by intereſt, to aſſiſt them with men, arms, horſes, and proviſions; whereas, the Athenians would carry on the war in a remote country, poſſeſſed by their enemies, where, in the winter, news could not be brought them in leſs than four months time; a country where all things would oppoſe the Athenians, and nothing be procured but by force of arms: that it would reflect the greateſt ignominy on the Athenians, ſhould they be forced to abandon their enterprize, and thereby become the ſcorn and contempt of their enemies, by their neglecting to take all the precautions which ſo important a deſign required: that as for himſelf, he was deter⯑mined not to go unleſs he was provided with all things neceſſary for the expedition, becauſe the ſafety of the whole army depended on that circumſtance; and that he would not rely [260] on caprice, or the precarious engagements of the allies. Nicias had flattered himſelf, that this ſpeech would cool the ardour of the people, whereas it only inflamed it the more. Imme⯑diately the generals had full powers given them to raiſe as many troops, and fit out as many gallies as they ſhould judge neceſſary; and the levies were accordingly carried on in Athens, and other places, with inexpreſſible activity.

When prepared, they accordingly ſet ſail, after having appointed Corcyra the rendezvous for moſt of the allies, and ſuch ſhips as were to carry the proviſions and warlike ſtores. All the citizens, as well as foreigners in Athens, flocked by day-break to the port of Pyraeus. The former attended by their children, rela⯑tions, friends, and companions, with a joy overcaſt with a little ſorrow, upon their bid⯑ding adieu to perſons that were as dear to them as life, who were ſetting out on a diſtant and very dangerous expedition, from which it was uncertain whether they would ever return, though they flattered themſelves with the hopes that it would be ſucceſsful. The foreigners came thither to feed their eyes with a ſight which was highly worthy their curioſity, for no ſingle city in the world had [261] ever fitted out ſo gallant a fleet. Thoſe indeed which had been ſent againſt Epidaurus and Potidaea, were as conſiderable with regard to the number of ſoldiers and ſhips, but then they were not equipped with ſo much magni⯑ficence, neither was their voyage ſo long, nor their enterprize ſo important. Here were ſeen a land and a naval army provided with the ut⯑moſt care, and at the expence of particular perſons, as well as of the public, with all things neceſſary on account of the length of the voyage, and the duration of the war. The city furniſhed an hundred empty gallies, that is threeſcore light ones, and forty to tranſ⯑port the ſoldiers heavily armed. Every ma⯑riner received daily a drachma, or ten pence Engliſh, for his pay, excluſively of what the captains of ſhips gave the rowers of the firſt bench. Add to this, the pomp and magni⯑ficence that was diſplayed univerſally, every one ſtriving to eclipſe the reſt, and each cap⯑tain endeavouring to make his ſhip the lighteſt, and, at the ſame time, the gayeſt in the whole fleet. I ſhall not take notice of the choice of the ſoldiers and ſeamen, who were the flower of the Athenians, nor of their emulation with regard to the beauty and neatneſs of their arms and equipage, any more than of their officers, [262] who had laid out conſiderable ſums purely to diſtinguiſh themſelves, and to give foreigners an advantageous idea of their perſons and cir⯑cumſtances, ſo that this ſight had the air of a pageant, in which the utmoſt magnificence is diſplayed, rather than of a warlike expedi⯑tion. But the boldneſs and greatneſs of the deſign ſtill exceeded its expence and ſplendor.

When the ſhips were loaded, and the troops got on board, the trumpet ſounded, and ſo⯑lemn prayers were offered up for the ſucceſs of the expedition; gold and ſilver cups were fill⯑ing every where with wine, and the accuſtom⯑ed libations were poured out; the people who lined the ſhore ſhouting, at the ſame time, and lifting up their hands to heaven to wiſh their fellow-citizens a good voyage and ſucceſs. And now the hymn being ſung, and the cere⯑monies ended, the ſhips ſailed one after an⯑other out of the harbour, after which they ſtrove to outſail one another, till the whole fleet met at Aegina. From thence it made to to Corcyra, where the army of the allies was aſſembled with the reſt of the fleet.

Being now arrived at Sicily, the generals were divided in their opinions as to the place where they ſhould make a deſcent. Lamachus, one of the generals, was for making directly [263] for Syracuſe. He urged, that it was as yet unprovided, and under the greateſt con⯑ſternation; that an army was always moſt terrible on its approach before the enemy had time to recollect and make danger familiar; theſe reaſons, however, were over-ruled. It was agreed to reduce the ſmaller cities firſt, when having detached ten gallies only to take a view of the ſituation and harbour of Syra⯑cuſe, they landed with the reſt of their forces, and ſurpriſed Catana.

In the mean time, the enemies of Alcibiades had taken occaſion from his abſence, to attack him with redoubled vigour. They aggravated his miſconduct in neglecting the proper me⯑thod of attack, and enforced their accuſation, by alledging, that he had prophaned the my⯑ſteries of Ceres; this was ſufficient to induce the giddy multitude to recal their general, but for fear of raiſing a tumult in the army, they only ſent him orders to return to Athens to pacify the people by his preſence. Alcibiades obeyed the orders with ſeeming ſubmiſſion, but reflecting on the inconſtancy and caprice of his judges, the inſtant he was arrived at Thurium, and had got on ſhore, he diſappeared, and eluded the purſuit of thoſe who ſought after him; the galley, therefore, returned without [264] him, and the people in a rage condemned him to death for his contumacy. His whole eſtate was confiſcated, and all the orders of religion were commanded to curſe him. Some time after, news being brought him that the Atheni⯑ans had condemned him to death; I hope one day, ſaith he, to make them ſenſible that I am ſtill alive.

The Syracuſans had by this time put them⯑ſelves in a poſture of defence, and finding that Nicias did not advance towards them, they talked of attacking him in his camp; and ſome of them aſked, in a ſcoffing way, Whether he was come into Sicily to ſettle at Catana? He was rouſed by this inſult, and reſolved to make the beſt of his way to Syracuſe. He durſt not attempt it by land for want of ca⯑valry, and he thought it equally hazardous to make a deſcent by ſea upon an enemy who was ſo well prepared to receive him: however, he choſe the latter way, and ſucceeded in it by a ſtratagem. He had gained a citizen of Ca⯑tana to go as a deſerter to the Syracuſans, and informed them, that the Athenians lay every night in the town without their arms; and that early in the morning, on a certain day ap⯑pointed, they might ſurprize them, ſeize on their camp with all their arms and baggage, [265] burn their fleet in the harbour, and deſtroy the whole army. The Syracuſans gave cre⯑dit to him, and marched with all their forces towards Catana; which Nicias had no ſooner notice of, but he embarked his troops, and ſteering away for Syracuſe, landed them there the next morning, and fortified himſelf in the out-ſkirts of the town. The Syracuſans were ſo provoked at this trick being put upon them, that they immediately returned to Syra⯑cuſe, and preſented themſelves without the walls in order of battle. Nicias marched out of his trenches to meet them, and a very ſharp action enſued, wherein, at length, the Athe⯑nians got the better, and forced the enemy back to the city, after having killed two hun⯑dred and ſixty of them and their confederates, with the loſs of fifty of their own men. They were not as yet in a condition to attack the city, and therefore took up their winter quarters at Catana and Naxus.

The year following greater projects were undertaken, for, having received a ſupply of horſe from Athens, with proviſions, and other ſtores of war, Nicias ſet ſail for Syracuſe, in order to block it up by ſea and land. In this manner did the little ſtate of Athens ſpread terror among all the neighbouring ſtates, and [266] now riſen to its utmoſt height, began to aſpire at univerſal empire. Athens had already been the miſtreſs of arts and philoſophy, it now, with inverted ambition, aimed at ſetting man⯑kind an example of the arts of conqueſt and of war, but they had never conſidered that a petty ſtate raiſed artificially into power, is liable to a thouſand accidents in its way to conqueſt; they had now ſent out their whole force into Sicily, and while they fought to decide the fate of Syracuſe, they were in fact contending for their own; the exiſtence of Athens and Syracuſe depended ſo much on the event of the preſent invaſion, that both ſides fought with the utmoſt perſeverance, and hiſtorians have been minute in the detail.

The ſiege was now carried on in a more re⯑gular and ſkilful manner than had ever been practiſed before, and men were taught a new leſſon now, as well in the arts of attack as of defence. Nicias found it neceſſary, in the firſt place, to gain Epipolae, an high hill which commanded the city, and had a ſteep craggy paſſage up to it. The Syracuſans were ſo ſen⯑ſible of the importance of this poſt, that they had ordered a detachment of ſeven hundred men to march upon a ſignal given to the de⯑fence of it. But Nicias had landed his men [267] in a little remote harbour ſo ſecretly and ſo ſuddenly, that they eaſily made themſelves maſters of it. And the ſeven hundred running up from the plains in a confuſed manner to diſpoſſeſs them, were repulſed with the loſs of three hundred of them and their leader. Nicias built a fort there, as a magazine, and proceeded to inveſt the town on the land-ſide, ſo as to prevent any communication with the country. The enemy endeavouring to defeat his works, and render them uſeleſs, ſeveral ſkirmiſhes enſued, wherein the Athenians had generally the better: but, in one of them, Lamachus being preſſed hard, and abandoned by his men, was killed. The Syracuſans be⯑ing ſtill intent on the recovery of Epipolae, or⯑dered up another detachment thither. Nicias was at this time ſick in the fort, and in bed, with only his ſervants about him. But when he found the enemy were forcing his intrench⯑ments, he got up and ſet fire to the engines, and other wood that lay ſcattered about the fort; which had ſo good an effect, that it ſerved as a ſignal to his own troops to come up to his relief, and ſo terrified and confound⯑ed thoſe of the enemy, that they retreated into the city. From thenceforth, Nicias, who was now ſole general, conceived great hopes; for [268] ſeveral cities of Sicily, which hitherto had not declared for either ſide, came and joined him, and there arrived from all quarters veſſels laden with proviſions for his army, all parties being eager to go over to him, becauſe he had ac⯑quired the ſuperiority, and been exceedingly ſucceſsful in all his undertakings. The Syra⯑cuſans ſeeing themſelves blocked up both by ſea and land, and loſing all hopes of being able to defend their city any longer, already propoſed an accommodation. Gylippus, who was com⯑ing from Lacedaemon to their aſſiſtance, hav⯑ing heard in his paſſage the extremity to which they were reduced, and looking upon the whole iſland as loſt, ſailed forward neverthe⯑leſs, not in the view of defending Sicily, but on⯑ly to preſerve to the nations of Italy ſuch ci⯑ties as were ſubject to them in that iſland, if it were not too late, and if this could be done; for fame had declared in all places, that the Athenians had already poſſeſſed themſelves of the whole iſland, and were headed by a gene⯑ral whoſe wiſdom and good fortune rendered him invincible.

The [...]ortifications of the Athenians were now almoſt completed, they had drawn a double wall near half a league in length along the plain and the fens towards the great port, [269] and had almoſt reached it. There now re⯑mained on one ſide only a ſmall part of the wall to be finiſhed, and the Syracuſans were upon the brink of ruin; they had no hopes left; they were unable to defend themſelves, and they knew not where to look for ſuccours; for this reaſon, they reſolved to ſurrender, and a council was held to ſettle the articles of capi⯑tulation which were to be preſented to Nicias.

It was at that very inſtant, and in this moſt diſtreſsful juncture, that a meſſenger arrived at Syracuſe from Corinth with news of ſpeedy re⯑lief. The whole body of citizens flocked round the meſſenger of ſuch welcome information. He gave them to underſtand, that Gylippus, the Lacedaemonian general, would be with them immediately, and was followed by a great many other gallies which came to his aid. The Syracuſans aſtoniſhed, or rather ſtupefied as it were with this news, could ſcarce believe what they heard. Whilſt they were thus ſluc⯑tuating and in doubt, a courier arrived from Gylippus to inform them of his approach, and ordered them to march over all their troops to meet him. He himſelf after taking a fort in his way, marched in order of battle directly for Epi⯑polae, and aſcending by Euryclus as the Athe⯑nians had done, he prepared to attack them [270] from without, whilſt the Syracuſians ſhould charge them on their ſide with the forces of Syracuſe. The Athenians, exceedingly ſurpriſed by his arrival, drew up haſtily, and without order under the wall; with re⯑gard to himſelf, laying down his arms when he approached, he ſent word by a herald, that he would allow the Athenians five days to leave Sicily. Nicias did not condeſcend to make the leaſt anſwer to this propoſal; and ſome of his ſoldiers burſting out a laughing, aſked the herald, whether the preſence of a Lacedaemo⯑nian privateer, and the trifling wand of an herald, could make any change in the preſent ſtate of the city? Both ſides, therefore, pre⯑pared for battle.

Gylippus began by ſtorming the fort of Lab⯑dalla, and cutting in pieces all who were found in it. The Athenians, in the mean time, were not idle in forming entrenchments to oppoſe him, while the beſieged were equally aſſiduous in cutting down and breaking through thoſe walls and circumvallations which were carried round their city. At length, both ſides drew up their forces in battle array between the walls, which the Athenians had raiſed to keep off the enemy. In the firſt engagement the cavalry of Gylippus being rendered uſeleſs [271] from the narrowneſs of the place, to re-ani⯑mate his ſoldiers, by doing them juſtice, he had the courage to reproach himſelf for the ill ſucceſs they had met with, and to declare publicly, that he, not they, had occaſioned the late defeat, becauſe he had made them fight in too narrow a ſpot of ground. How⯑ever, he promiſed ſoon to give them an oppor⯑tunity of recovering both their honour and his; and, accordingly, the very next day he led them againſt the enemy, after having ex⯑horted them in the ſtrongeſt terms to behave in a manner worthy of their ancient glory. Nicias perceiving, that though he ſhould not deſire to come to a battle, it would, however, be abſolutely neceſſary for him to prevent the enemy from extending their line beyond the contravallation, to which they were already very near, (becauſe otherwiſe this would be grant⯑ing them a certain victory) therefore, march⯑ed boldly againſt the Syracuſans. Gylippus brought up his troops beyond that place where the walls terminated on both ſides, in order that he might leave the more room to extend his battle, when, charging the enemy's left wing with his horſe, he put it to flight, and ſoon after defeated their right. We have an inſtance of what the experience and abilities of [272] a great captain are capable of producing; for Gylippus, with the ſame men, the ſame arms, the ſame horſes, and the ſame ground, by on⯑ly changing his order of battle, defeated the Athenians, and beat them quite to their camp. The following night the victors carried on their wall beyond the contravallation of the Athe⯑nians, and thereby deprived them of all hopes of being ever able to ſurround the city. Nicias had ever ſince the arrival of Gylippus been put upon the defenſive, and as he daily loſt ground in the country, he retired towards the ſea, to keep that open in caſe of accidents, and to bring in proviſions. For this purpoſe, he poſſeſſed himſelf of Plemmyrium, near the great harbour, where he built three forts, and kept himſelf up as it were in garriſon. Gylip⯑pus took this opportunity to gain over the in⯑land cities; and, at the ſame time, arrived the fleet which was expected from Corinth. Nici⯑as, under theſe circumſtances, wrote a very melancholy account of his affairs to Athens; that the enemy were become ſo ſuperior to him, that he was not in a condition to force their intrenchments; and, that inſtead of be⯑ſieging them, he was now beſieged himſelf; that the towns revolted from him; the ſlaves and mercenaries deſerted; that his troops were [273] employed in guarding the forts and fetching in proviſions, and that in this latter ſervice many of them were cut off by the enemy's horſe. That the fleet was in as bad a condition as the army; and that, in ſhort, without a ſpeedy re⯑inforcement of men, ſhips, and money, equal to what he had at firſt ſet out with, it was in vain to attempt any thing farther: then, as to his own particular, he complained of his being afflicted with ſharp nephritic pains, which ren⯑dered him incapable of going on with the ſer⯑vice; and, therefore, preſſed to be recalled." The Athenians were ſo affected with this letter, that they named Eurymedon and Demoſthenes to go over with freſh ſupplies, the former im⯑mediately with ten gallies, and the other early in the ſpring with a ſtronger force. At the ſame time, they appointed Menander and Eu⯑thydemus to act as aſſiſtants to Nicias, but would not grant his requeſt of coming home. In the mean time, Gylippus, who had made the tour of Sicily, returned with as many men as he could raiſe in the whole iſland, and pre⯑vailed with the Syracuſans to fit out the ſtrongeſt ſleet in their power, and to hazard a battle at ſea, upon the preſumption that the ſucceſs would anſwer the greatneſs of the enterprize. This advice was ſtrongly enforced by Hermo⯑crates, [274] who exhorted the Syracuſans not to abandon to their enemies the empire of the ſeas. He obſerved, that the Athenians them⯑ſelves had not received it from their anceſtors, nor been always poſſeſſed of it; that the Per⯑ſian war had in a manner forced them into the knowledge of naval affairs, notwithſtanding two great obſtacles, their diſpoſition, and the ſituation of their city, which ſtood at a conſi⯑derable diſtance from the ſea: that they had made themſelves formidable to other nations, not ſo much by their real ſtrength, as by their courage and intrepidity: that they ought to copy them; and ſince they had to do with ene⯑mies who were ſo enterpriſing, it was fit they ſhould be equally daring.

This advice was approved, and accordingly a large fleet was equipped. Gylippus led out all his land-forces in the night-time to attack the forts of Plemmyrium. Thirty-five gallies of Syracuſe, which were in the great harbour, and forty-five in the leſſer, where was an ar⯑ſenal for ſhips, were ordered to advance to⯑wards Plemmyrium, to amaze the Athenians, who would find themſelves attacked both by ſea and land at the ſame time. The Athenians at this news went on board alſo, and with twenty⯑five ſhips ſailed to fight the thirty-five Syracu⯑ſan [275] veſſels, which were ſailing out againſt them from the great harbour, and oppoſed thirty-five more to the forty-five of the enemy which were come out of the little port. A ſharp engage⯑ment was fought at the mouth of the great harbour, one party endeavouring to force their way into it, and the other to keep them out.

Thoſe who defended the forts of Plemmy⯑rium having flocked to the ſhore to view the battle, Gylippus attacked the forts unexpect⯑edly by day-break; and having carried the greateſt of them by ſtorm, the ſoldiers who de⯑fended the other two, were ſo terrified, that they abandoned them in a moment. After this advantage the Syracuſans ſuſtained a con⯑ſiderable loſs, for ſuch of their veſſels as fought at the entrance of the harbour, (after having forced the Athenians) bulged furiouſly one againſt the other, as they entered it in diſ⯑order; and, by this means, ſhifted the victory to their enemies, who were not contented with purſuing, but alſo gave chace to thoſe who were victorious in the great harbour. Eleven Syracuſan gallies were ſunk, and great num⯑bers of the ſailors in them killed. Three were taken; but the Athenians likewiſe loſt three, and after towing off thoſe of the enemy, they [276] raiſed a trophy in a little iſland lying before Plemmyrium, and retired to the center of their camp.

One circumſtance which the beſieged conſi⯑dered of the greateſt importance, was to at⯑tempt a ſecond engagement both by ſea and land, before the fleet and other ſuccours ſent by the Athenians ſhould arrive. They had concerted freſh meaſures for a battle at ſea, by improving from the errors they had committed in the laſt engagement. The change made in the gallies was, their prows were now ſhorter, and, at the ſame time, ſtronger and more ſolid than before. For this purpoſe, they fixed great pieces of timber projecting forward on each ſide of the prows, and to theſe pieces they joined beams by way of props. The beams extended to the length of ſix cubits on each ſide of the veſſel both within and without. By this they hoped to gain an advantage over the gallies of the Athenians, which did not dare, becauſe of the weakneſs of their prows, to attack an enemy in front, but only in flank, not to mention, that ſhould the battle be fought in the harbour, they would not have room to ſpread themſelves, nor to paſs between two gallies, in which lay their greateſt art, nor to tack about after they ſhould have been repulſed, [277] in order to return to the charge; whereas, the Syracuſans by their being maſters of the whole extent of the harbour, would have all theſe advantages, and might reciprocally aſſiſt one another. On theſe circumſtances the latter founded their hopes of victory.

Gylippus, therefore, firſt drew all the infan⯑try out of the camp, and advanced towards that part of the contravallation of the Atheni⯑ans which faced the city, whilſt the troops of Olympia marched towards the other, and their gallies ſet ſail.

Nicias did not care to venture a ſecond bat⯑tle, ſaying, that as he expected a freſh fleet every moment, and a great reinforcement un⯑der Demoſthenes, it would betray the greateſt want of judgment, ſhould he, as his troops were inferior in number to thoſe of the enemy, and already fatigued, hazard a battle without being forced to it. On the contrary, Menan⯑der and Euthydemus, who had juſt before been appointed to ſhare the command with Nicias till the arrival of Demoſthenes, fired with ambition, and jealous of thoſe generals, were eager to perform ſome great exploit, to bereave the one of his glory, and if poſſible eclipſe that of the other. The pretence they alledged on this occaſion was, the fame and [278] reputation of Athens; and they aſſerted with ſo much vehemence, that it would be entirely deſtroyed ſhould they ſhun the battle as the Syracuſans offered it them, that they at laſt forced Nicias to a compliance. The Athe⯑nians had ſeventy-five gallies, and the Syracu⯑ſans eighty.

The firſt day the fleets continued in ſight of each other, in the great harbour, without en⯑gaging, and only a few ſkirmiſhes paſſed, af⯑ter which both parties retired; while the land-forces acted in the ſame manner. The Syracu⯑ſans did not make the leaſt motion the ſecond day. Nicias, taking advantage of this inactivity, cauſed the tranſports to draw up in a line at ſome diſtance from one another, in order that his gallies might retire behind them with ſafe⯑ty, in caſe he ſhould be defeated. On the mor⯑row the Syracuſans came up ſooner than uſual, when a great part of the day was ſpent in ſkir⯑miſhing, after which they retired. The Athe⯑nians did not ſuppoſe they would return, but imagined that fear would make them fly. But having refreſhed themſelves in great diligence, and returning on board their gallies, they at⯑tacked the Athenians, who were far from ex⯑pecting them. The latter being now forced to return immediately on board their ſhips, [279] they entered them in great diſorder; ſo that they had not time to draw them up in a line of battle, and moſt of the ſailors were faſting. Victory did not long continue in ſuſpence. The Athenians, after making a ſhort and ſlight re⯑ſiſtance, retired behind their line of tranſ⯑ports. The enemy purſued them thither, but were ſtopped by the yards of thoſe ſhips to which were fixed dolphins of lead: theſe being very heavy, had they fallen on the enemy's gallies, would have ſunk them at once. The Athenians loſt ſeven gallies in this engagement, and a great number of ſoldiers were either kill⯑ed or taken priſoners.

This loſs threw Nicias into the utmoſt con⯑ſternation: all the misfortunes he had met with ever ſince the time he had enjoyed the ſupreme command, came into his mind, and he was now involved in a greater than any of them, by his complying with the advice of his colleagues. Whilſt he was revolving theſe gloomy ideas, Demoſthenes's fleet was ſeen coming forward in great pomp, and with ſuch an air as might fill the enemy with dread. It was now the day after the battle. This fleet conſiſted of ſeventy-three gallies, on board of which were five thouſand fighting men, and about three thouſand archers, ſlingers, and [280] bowmen. All theſe gallies were richly trim⯑med, their prows being adorned with ſhining ſtreamers, manned with ſtout rowers, com⯑manded by good officers, and echoing with the ſound of clarions and trumpets, Demoſt⯑henes having affected an air of pomp and tri⯑umph purpoſely to ſtrike terror into the enemy.

This gallant ſight alarmed them indeed be⯑yond expreſſion. They did not ſee any end, or even the leaſt ſuſpenſion of their calamities. All they had hitherto done or ſuffered was as nothing, and their work was to begin again. What hopes could they entertain of being able to weary out the patience of the Athenians, ſince, though they had a camp in⯑trenched in the middle of Attica, were how⯑ever able to ſend a ſecond army into Sicily as conſiderable as the former, and that their power, as well as their courage, ſeemed, not⯑withſtanding all their loſſes, inſtead of diminiſh⯑ing, to increaſe daily.

Demoſthenes having made an exact enquiry into the ſtate of things, imagined it would not be proper for him to loſe time as Nicias had done, who having ſpread an univerſal terror at his firſt arrival, becau [...] afterwards the object of contempt for his having wintered in Catana, [281] inſtead of going directly to Syracuſe, and had afterwards given Gylippus an opportunity of throwing troops into it. He flattered himſelf with the hopes that he ſhould be able to carry the city at the firſt attack, by taking advan⯑tage of the alarm which the news of his arrival would ſpread in every part of it, and by that means ſhould immediately put an end to the war; otherwiſe he intended to raiſe the ſiege, and no longer harraſs and leſſen the troops by fighting battles never deciſive, nor quite ex⯑hauſt the city of Athens, by employing its trea⯑ſures in needleſs expences.

Nicias, terrified by this bold and precipitate reſolution of Demoſthenes, conjured him not to be ſo haſty, but to take time to weigh things deliberately, that he might have no cauſe to repent of what he ſhould do. He obſerved to him, that the enemy would be ruined by de⯑lays; that their proviſions as well as money were entirely exhauſted; that their allies were going to abandon them; that they muſt ſoon be reduced to ſuch extremity for want of pro⯑viſions, as would force them to ſurrender, as they had before reſolved. For there were cer⯑tain perſons in Syracuſe who held a ſecret cor⯑reſpondence with Nicias, and exhorted him not to be impatient, becauſe the Syracuſans [282] were tired with the war and with Gylippus; and that ſhould the neceſſity to which they were reduced be ever ſo little increaſed, they would ſurrender at diſcretion.

As Nicias did not explain himſelf clearly, and would not declare in expreſs terms that ſure and certain advices were ſent him of what⯑ever was tranſacted in the city, his remon⯑ſtrances were conſidered as an effect of the ti⯑midity and ſlowneſs with which he had always been reproached. Such, ſaid they, are his uſual protractions, delays, diſtruſts, and fearful precaution, whereby he has deadened all the vivacity, and extinguiſhed all the ardour of the troops, in not marching them immediately againſt the enemy; but, on the contrary, by deferring to attack them till his own forces were weakened and deſpiſed. This made the reſt of the generals, and all the officers, come over to Demoſthenes's opinion, and Nicias himſelf was at laſt forced to acquieſce in it.

Demoſthenes, after having attacked to no purpoſe the wall which cut the contravallation of the beſiegers, confined himſelf to the attack of Epipolae, from a ſuppoſition, that ſhould he once be maſter of it, the wall would be quite undefended. He, therefore, took pro⯑viſions [283] for five days, with workmen, imple⯑ments, and every thing neceſſary for him to defend that poſt after he ſhould poſſeſs himſelf of it. As there was no going up to it in the day-time undiſcovered, he marched thither in the night with all his forces, followed by Eury⯑medon and Menander; Nicias ſtaying behind to guard the camp. They went up by the way of Euryelus, as before, unperceived by the centinels, attacked the firſt intrenchment, and ſtormed it, after killing part of thoſe who de⯑fended it. Demoſthenes, not ſatisfied with this advantage, to prevent the ardour of his ſoldiers from cooling, and not delay the execution of his deſign, marches forward. During this in⯑terval, the forces of the city, ſuſtained by Gy⯑lippus, marched under arms out of the in⯑trenchments. Being ſeized with aſtoniſhment, which the darkneſs of the night increaſed, they were immediately repulſed and put to flight. But, as the Athenians advanced in diſorder, to force whatever might reſiſt their arms, leſt the enemy might rally again, ſhould time be allowed them to breathe and recover from their ſurprize, they are ſtopped on a ſud⯑den by the Boeotians, who make a vigorous ſtand, and marching againſt the Athenians with their pikes preſented, they repulſe them [284] with great ſhouts, and make a dreadful ſlaugh⯑ter. This ſpreads an univerſal terror through the reſt of the army. Thoſe who fled, either force along ſuch as were advancing to their aſ⯑ſiſtance, or elſe miſtaking them for enemies, turn their arms againſt them. They now were all mixed indiſcriminately, it being impoſſible to diſcover objects in the horrors of a night, which was not ſo gloomy as entirely to make objects imperceptible, nor yet light enough to diſtinguiſh thoſe which were ſeen. The Athe⯑nians ſought for one another to no purpoſe, and from their often aſking the word, by which only they were able to know one an⯑other, a ſtrange confuſion of ſounds was heard, which occaſion no little diſorder, not to men⯑tion that they by this means divulged the word to the enemy, and could not learn theirs; be⯑cauſe, by their being together, and in a body, they had no occaſion to repeat it. In the mean time, thoſe who were purſued threw themſelves from the top of the rocks, and many were daſhed to pieces by the fall; and as moſt of thoſe who eſcaped ſtraggled from one another up and down the fields and woods, they were cut to pieces the next day by the enemy's horſe who purſued them. Two thou⯑ſand Athenians were ſlain in this engagement, [285] and a great number of arms were taken, thoſe who fled having thrown them away, that they might be the better able to eſcape over the precipices. Soon after Gylippus having made the tour of Sicily, brought a great number of troops with him, which rendered the affairs of Athens ſtill more deſperate, and deprived Nicias of all hopes of ſucceſs; beſides, the Athenian army now began to diminiſh exceed⯑ingly by ſickneſs, and nothing ſeen to remain but their quitting an iſland in which they had experienced every mortification. Nicias no longer oppoſed the reſolution, and only deſired to have it kept ſecret. Orders were, there⯑fore, given as privately as poſſible, for the fleet to prepare for ſetting ſail with the utmoſt expedition.

When all things were ready, the moment they were going to ſet ſail, (wholly unſuſpect⯑ed by the enemy, who were far from ſurmiſing they would leave Sicily ſo ſoon) the moon was ſuddenly eclipſed in the middle of the night, and loſt all its ſplendour, which terrified Ni⯑cias and the whole army, who from ignorance and ſuperſtition, were aſtoniſhed at ſo ſudden a change, the cauſes of which they did not know, and therefore dreaded the conſequences of it. They then conſulted the ſoothſayers, [286] who being equally unacquainted with the rea⯑ſons of this phaemonenon, only augmented their conſternation. It was the cuſtom, after ſuch accidents had happened, to ſuſpend their enterprize but for three days. The ſoothſayers pronounced, that he muſt not ſet ſail till three times nine days were paſt, (theſe were Thucy⯑dides' words) which doubtleſs was a myſterious number in the opinion of the people. Nicias, ſcrupulous to a fault, and full of a miſtaken veneration for theſe blind interpreters of the will of the gods, declared that he would wait a whole revolution of the moon, and not re⯑turn till the ſame day of the next month, as if he had not ſeen the planet very clearly, the inſtant it had emerged from that part which was darkened by the interpoſition of the earth's body.

But he was not allowed time for this. The news of the intended departure of the Atheni⯑ans ſoon ſpread over the city; a reſolution was taken to attack the beſiegers both by ſea and land. The Syracuſans began the firſt day by attacking the intrenchments, and gained a ſlight advantage over the enemy. On the mor⯑row they made a ſecond attack, and, at the ſame time, ſailed with ſeventy-ſix gallies againſt eighty-ſix of the Athenian. Eumyredon, who [287] commanded the right of the Athenian fleet, hav⯑ing ſpread along the ſhore to ſurround them, this movement proved fatal to him; for, as he was detached from the body of the fleet, the Syracuſans, after forcing the main battle, which was in the center, attacked him, drove him vi⯑gorouſly into the gulf called Daſcon, and there defeated him entirely. Eumyredon loſt his life in the engagement. They afterwards gave chace to the reſt of the gallies, and run them againſt the ſhore. Gylippus, who com⯑manded the land army, ſeeing the Athenian gallies were forced a-ground, and not able to return into the ſtaccado, landed with part of his troops, in order to charge the ſoldiers, in caſe they ſhould be forced to run aſhore, and give his friends the more room to tow ſuch gallies as they ſhould have taken; however, he was repulſed by the Tyrrhenians, who were poſted on that ſide, and obliged by the Athe⯑nians, who flew to ſuſtain them, to retire with ſome loſs as far as a moor which lay near it. The latter ſaved moſt of their ſhips, eighteen excepted, which were taken by the Syracuſans, and their crews cut to pieces by them. After this, reſolving to burn the reſt, they filled an old veſſel with combuſtible materials, and hav⯑ing ſet fire to it, they drove it by the help of [288] the wind againſt the Athenians, who neverthe⯑leſs extinguiſhed the fire, and drove off that ſhip; each ſide erected trophies, the Syracu⯑ſans for the death of Eurymedon, and the ad⯑vantage they had gained the day before, and the Athenians for their having driven part of the enemy into the moor, and put the other part to flight. But the minds of the two na⯑tions were very differently diſpoſed; the Syra⯑cuſans, who had been thrown into the utmoſt conſternation at the arrival of Demoſthenes with his fleet, ſeeing themſelves victorious in a naval engagement, reſumed freſh hope, and aſſured themſelves of a complete victory over their enemies. The Athenians, on the con⯑trary, fruſtrated of their only reſource, and overcome at ſea, ſo contrary to their expecta⯑tions, entirely loſt courage, and had no thoughts but of retiring.

The enemy, to deprive them of all reſource, and prevent their eſcaping, ſhut the mouth of the great harbour, which was about five hun⯑dred paces wide, with gallies placed croſs-wiſe, and other veſſels fixed with anchors and iron chains, and, at the ſame time, made the requi⯑ſite preparations for a battle, in caſe they ſhould have courage to engage again. When the Athenians ſaw themſelves thus hemmed in, [289] the generals and principal officers aſſembled, in order to deliberate on the preſent ſtate of affairs. They were in abſolute want of proviſions, which was owing to their having forbid the people of Catana to bring any, from the hopes they en⯑tertained of their being able to retire, and they could not procure any from other places unleſs they were maſters of the ſea; this made them reſolve to venture a ſea fight. In this view they were determined to leave their old camp and their walls, and to entrench themſelves on the ſhore near their ſhips, in the ſmalleſt compaſs poſſible; their deſign was to leave ſome forces in that place to guard their baggage and the ſick, and to fight with the reſt aboard all the ſhips they ſhould have ſaved. They intended to retire into Catana in caſe they ſhould be victorious, otherwiſe to ſet fire to their ſhips, and to march by land to the neareſt city be⯑longing to their allies.

This reſolution being taken, Nicias imme⯑diately filled an hundred and ten gallies (the others having loſt their oars) with the flower of his infantry, and drew up the reſt of the forces, particularly the bowmen, in order of battle on the ſhore. As the Athenians dread⯑ed very much the beaks of the Syracuſan gal⯑lies, Nicias had provided harping-irons to [290] grapple them, in order to break the force of the blow, and to come immediately to cloſe fight as on ſhore. But the enemy perceiving this, covered the prows and upper part of their gallies with leather, to prevent their being ſo eaſily laid hold of. The commanders on both ſides had employed all their rhetoric to animate their men, and none could ever have been prompted with ſtronger motives, for the battle which was going to be fought was to deter⯑mine not only their lives and liberties, but alſo the fate of their country.

This battle was very obſtinate and bloody. The Athenians being arrived at the mouth of the port, eaſily took thoſe ſhips which defend⯑ed the entrance of it, but when they attempted to break the chain of the reſt to widen the paſſage, the enemy came up from all quarters. As near two hundred gallies came ruſhing on each ſide in a narrow place, there muſt neceſ⯑ſarily be a very great confuſion, and the veſſels could not eaſily advance forward, or retire, or turn about to renew the attack. The beaks of the gallies for this reaſon did very little execu⯑tion, but there were very furious and frequent diſcharges. The Athenians were overwhelm⯑ed with a ſhower of ſtones, which always did execution from what place ſoever they were [291] thrown, whereas they defended themſelves by only ſhooting darts and arrows, which by the motion of the ſhips, from the agitation of the ſea, did not carry true, and by that means the greateſt part of them did little execution. Ariſ⯑ton, the pilot, had given the Syracuſans this counſel. Theſe diſcharges being over, the ſoldiers heavily armed attempted to enter the enemies ſhips, in order to fight hand to hand, and it often happened that whilſt they were climbing up one ſide, their own ſhips were en⯑tered on the other, and two or three ſhips were grappled to one, which occaſioned a great perplexity and confuſion. Farther, the noiſe of the ſhips that daſhed one againſt the other, the different cries of the victors and vanquiſhed, prevented the orders of the offi⯑cers from being heard. The Athenians want⯑ed to force a paſſage, whatever might be the conſequence, to ſecure their return into their own country, and this the enemy employed their utmoſt efforts to prevent, in order that they might gain a more complete and more glorious victory. The two land-armies, which were drawn up on the higheſt part of the ſhore, and the inhabitants of the city who were there, [...]an to the walls, whilſt the reſt kneeling in [...]he temples were imploring heaven to give [292] ſucceſs to their fellow-citizens, all theſe ſaw clear, becauſe of their little diſtance from the fleets every thing that paſſed, and contemplated the battle as from an amphitheatre, but not with⯑out great anxiety and terror. Attentive to, and ſhuddering at every movement, and the ſe⯑veral changes which happened, they diſcovered the concern they had in the battle, their fears, their hopes, their grief, their joy, by different cries and different geſtures, ſtretching out their hands ſometimes towards the combatants to animate them, at other times towards hea⯑ven, to implore the ſuccour and protection of the gods. At laſt the Athenian fleet, after ſuſtaining a long battle, and a vigorous re⯑ſiſtance, was put to flight, and drove againſt the ſhore. The Syracuſans, who were ſpecta⯑tors of this victory, conveyed the news to the whole city by an univerſal ſhout. The victors, now maſters of the ſea, and ſailing with a favourable wind towards Syracuſe, erected a trophy, whilſt the Athenians, who were quite dejected and overpowered, did not ſo much as requeſt that their dead ſoldiers might be de⯑livered to them, in order to pay the laſt ſad duty to their remains.

There now remained but two methods for them to chuſe, either to attempt the paſſage [293] a ſecond time, for which they had ſhips and ſoldiers ſufficient, or to abandon their fleet to the enemy and retire by land. Demoſthenes propoſed the former, but the ſailors, in the deepeſt affliction, refuſed to obey, fully per⯑ſuaded that it would be impoſſible for them to ſuſtain a ſecond engagement. The ſecond me⯑thod was, therefore, reſolved upon, and ac⯑cordingly they prepared to ſet out in the night, to conceal the march of their army from the enemy.

But Hermocrates, who ſuſpected their de⯑ſign, was very ſenſible that it was of the ut⯑moſt importance not to ſuffer ſo great a body of forces to eſcape, ſince they otherwiſe might ſortify themſelves in ſome corner of the iſland, and renew the war. The Syracuſans were at that time in the midſt of their feſtivity and re⯑joicings, and meditating nothing but how they might divert themſelves after the toils they had ſuſtained in fight. They were then ſolem⯑nizing the feſtival of Hercules. To deſire the Syracuſans to take up arms again in order to purſue the enemy, and to attempt to draw them from their diverſions, either by force or perſuaſion, would have been to no purpoſe, for which reaſon, another expedient was employ⯑ed. Hermocrates ſent out a few horſemen, [294] who were to paſs for friends of the Athenians, and ordered them to cry aloud, Tell Nicias not to retire till day light, for the Syracuſans lye in ambuſh for him, and have ſeized on their paſſes. This falſe advice ſtopped Nicias at once, and he did not even ſet out the next day, in order that the ſoldiers might have more time to prepare for their departure, and carry off whatever might be neceſſary for their ſubſiſtence, and abandon the reſt.

The enemy had time enough for ſeizing the avenues. The next morning early they poſ⯑ſeſſed themſelves of the moſt difficult paſſes, fortified thoſe places where the rivers were fordable, broke down the bridges, and ſpread detachments of horſe up and down the plain, ſo that there was not one place which the Athenians could paſs without fighting. They ſet out upon their march the third day after the battle, with deſign to retire to Catana. The whole army was in an inexpreſſible con⯑ſternation, to ſee ſuch a great number of men either dead, or dying, ſome of whom were left expoſed to wild beaſts, and the reſt to the cruelty of the enemy. Thoſe who were ſick and wounded conjured them with tears, to take them along with the army, and held by their cloaths when they were going, or elſe crawl⯑ing [295] after them, followed them as far as their ſtrength would permit; and, when this failed, had recourſe to tears, ſighs, im⯑precations, and ſending up toward heaven plaintive and dying groans; they called upon the gods, as well as men, to avenge their cruelty, whilſt every place echoed with la⯑mentations.

The whole army was in a deplorable condi⯑tion. All the Athenians were ſeized with the deepeſt melancholy. They were inwardly tortur⯑ed with rage and anguiſh, when they repreſented to themſelves the greatneſs from which they were fallen, the extreme miſery to which they were reduced, and the ſtill greater evils from which they foreſaw it would be impoſſible for them to eſcape. They could not bear the compariſon for ever preſent in their thoughts, of the triumphant ſtate in which they had left Athens, in the midſt of the good wiſhes and acclamations of the people, with the ignominy of their retreat, aggravated by the cries and imprecations of their relations and fellow-citizens.

But the moſt melancholy part of the ſpecta⯑cle, and that which moſt deſerved compaſſion, was Nicias, dejected and worn out by a tedious illneſs, deprived of the moſt neceſſary ſtores [296] at a time when his age and infirmities required them moſt, pierced not only with his private grief, but with that of others, all which preyed upon his heart. However, this great man, ſupe⯑rior to all his evils, thought of nothing but how he might beſt comfort his ſoldiers, and revive their courage. He ran up and down in all places, crying aloud, that their ſituation was not yet deſperate, and that other armies had eſcap⯑ed from greater dangers; that they ought not to accuſe themſelves, or grieve too immode⯑rately for misfortunes which they had not oc⯑caſioned; that if they had offended ſome god, his vengeance muſt be ſatiated by this time; that fortune, after having ſo long favoured the enemy, would at laſt be tired of perſecuting them; that their bravery and their numbers made them ſtill formidable, (being ſtill near forty thouſand ſtrong) that no city in Sicily would be able to withſtand them, nor prevent their ſettling wherever they might think pro⯑per; that they had no more to do but to take care ſeverally of themſelves, and march in good order; that by a prudent and courageous retreat, which was now become their only re⯑ſource, they would not only ſave themſelves, but alſo their country, and enable it to recover its former grandeur.

[297] The army marched in two bodies, both drawn up in the form of a phalanx, the firſt being commanded by Nicias, and the ſecond by Demoſthenes, with the baggage in the cen⯑ter. Being come to the river Anapis, they forced their paſſage, and afterwards were charg⯑ed by all the enemy's cavalry, as well as archers, who diſcharged perpetually upon them. They were annoyed in this manner during ſeveral days march, every one of the paſſes being guarded, and the Athenians being obliged to diſpute every inch of their way. The enemy did not care to hazard a battle againſt an army which deſpair alone might render invincible; and the inſtant the Athenians preſented the Syracuſans battle, the latter retired; but when⯑ever the former proceeded in their march, they advanced and charged them in their re⯑treat.

Demoſthenes and Nicias ſeeing the miſerable condition to which the troops were reduced, being in extreme want of proviſions, and great numbers of them wounded, judged it adviſe⯑able to retire towards the ſea by a quite con⯑trary way from that in which they then march⯑ed, and to make directly for Camarina and Gela, inſtead of proceeding to Catana as they firſt intended. They ſet out in the night after [298] lighting a great number of fires. The retreat was made in great confuſion and diſorder, as generally happens to great armies in the gloomy horrors of the night, eſpecially when the ene⯑my is not far off. However, the van-guard commanded by Nicias, went forward in good order, but above half the rear-guard, with Demoſthenes at their head, quitted from the main body, and loſt their way. On the next day the Syracuſans, who on the report of their retreat, had marched with the utmoſt dili⯑gence, came up with him about noon, and having ſurrounded him with their horſe, drove him into a narrow place incloſed with a wall, where his ſoldiers fought like lions. Perceiving at the cloſe of the day that they were oppreſſed with fatigue, and covered with wounds, the con⯑quering Syracuſans gave the iſlanders leave to retire, which ſome of them accepted, and they afterwards ſpared the lives of the reſt who ſur⯑rendered at diſcretion, with Demoſthenes, after having ſtipulated that they ſhould not be put to death, nor ſentenced to perpetual impriſon⯑ment. About ſix thouſand ſoldiers ſurrender⯑ed on theſe conditions.

Nicias arrived the ſame evening at the river Erineus, and paſſing it, encamped on a moun⯑tain, where the enemy came up with him the [299] next day, and ſummoned him to ſurrender at diſ⯑cretion as Demoſthenes had done. Nicias could not perſuade himſelf at firſt that what they told him concerning Demoſthenes was true; and, therefore, deſired leave to ſend ſome horſe for information. Upon their returning with the news that Demoſthenes had really ſurrendered in that manner, Nicias offered to pay the ex⯑pences of the war, upon condition they would permit him to leave the country with his forces, and to give as many Athenians for hoſtages as they ſhould be obliged to pay ta⯑lents. But the enemy rejected this propoſal with diſdain and inſolence, and renewed the attack. Nicias, though in abſolute want of all things, however ſuſtained the charge the whole night, and marched towards the river Aſinarus. When they were got to the banks of it, the Syracuſans advancing up to them, threw moſt of them into the ſtream, the reſt already having plunged voluntarily into it to quench their thirſt. Here the greateſt and moſt bloody havock was made, the poor wretches being butchered without the leaſt pity as they were drinking. Nicias finding all loſt, and unable to bear this diſmal ſpectacle, ſurrendered at diſcretion, upon condition that Gylippus ſhould diſcontinue the fight, and [300] ſpare the reſt of his army. A great number were killed, and more taken priſoners, ſo that all Sicily was filled with them. The Atheni⯑ans ſeemed to have been diſpleaſed with their general for ſurrendering in this manner at diſ⯑cretion; and, for this reaſon, his name was omitted in a public monument, on which was engraved the names of thoſe commanders who had loſt their lives in fighting for their country.

The victors, adorned with the arms taken from the priſoners, the fineſt and largeſt trees they could find on the banks of the rivers, and made a kind of trophies of thoſe trees, when crowning themſelves with chaplets of flowers, dreſſing their horſes in the richeſt capariſons, and cropping thoſe of their enemies, they en⯑tered triumphantly into Syracuſe, after having happily terminated the moſt conſiderable war in which they had ever been engaged with the Greeks, and won by their ſtrength and valour a moſt ſignal and moſt complete victory.

The next day a council was held to delibe⯑rate on what was to be done with the priſoners. Diocles, one of the leaders of greateſt authority among the people, propoſed that all the Athe⯑nians who were born of free parents, and all ſuch Sicilians as had joined with them, ſhould be impriſoned, and only two meaſures of flour [301] and one of water given them daily; that the ſlaves and all the allies ſhould be publicly ſold, and that the two Athenian generals ſhould be firſt ſcourged with rods, and afterwards put to death.

This laſt article was exceedingly diſliked by all wiſe and compaſſionate Syracuſans. Her⯑mocrates, who was very famous for his probi⯑ty and juſtice, attempted to make ſome remon⯑ſtrances to the people, but they would not hear him, and the ſhouts which echoed on all ſides prevented him from continuing his ſpeech. At that inſtant an ancient man, vene⯑rable for his great age and gravity, who in this war had loſt two ſons, the only heirs to his name and eſtate, made his ſervants carry him to the tribunal for harrangues, and the inſtant he appeared a profound ſilence was made. ‘"You here behold, ſays he, an un⯑fortunate father who has felt more than any other Syracuſan the fatal effects of this war, by the death of two ſons who formed all the con⯑ſolation, and were the only ſupports of my old age. I cannot, indeed, forbear admiring their courage and felicity, in ſacrificing to their country's welfare a life of which they would one day have been deprived by the common courſe of nature: but then I cannot but be [302] ſtrongly affected with the cruel wound which their death has made in my heart, nor forbear hating and deteſting the Athenians, the au⯑thors of this unhappy war, as the murtherers of my children; but, however, I cannot con⯑ceal one circumſtance, which is, that I am leſs ſenſible of my private affliction than of the ho⯑nour of my country, and I ſee it expoſed to eternal infamy by the barbarous advice which is now given you. The Athenians indeed me⯑rit the worſt treatment, and every kind of puniſhment that can be inflicted on them for ſo unjuſtly declaring war againſt us, but have not the gods, the juſt avengers of crimes, puniſhed them, and revenged us ſufficiently. When their general laid down his arms and ſurrendered, did he not do this in the hopes of having their lives ſpared, and if we put them to death, will it be poſſible for us to avoid the juſt reproach of our having violated the laws of nations, and diſhonoured our vic⯑tory by an unheard-of cruelty? How will you ſuffer your glory to be thus ſullied in the face of the whole world, and have it ſaid, that a nation who firſt dedicated a temple in this city to Clemency had not found any in yours? Surely victories and triumphs do not give im⯑mortal glory to a city; but the exerciſing [303] mercy towards a vanquiſhed enemy, the uſing moderation in the greateſt proſperity, and fear⯑ing to offend the gods by a haughty and inſolent pride, will ever inſure it. You doubtleſs have not forgot that this Nicias, whoſe fate you are going to pronounce, was the very man who pleaded your cauſe in the aſſembly of the Athenians, and employed all his credit, and the whole power of his eloquence to diſſuade his country from embarking in this war; ſhould you, therefore, pronounce ſentence of death on this worthy general, would it be a juſt reward for the zeal he ſhowed for your intereſt? With regard to myſelf, death would be leſs grievous to me than the ſight of ſo horrid an injuſtice committed by my countrymen and fellow-citizens."’

The people ſeemed moved with compaſſion at this ſpeech, eſpecially when this venerable old man firſt aſcended, they expected to hear him cry aloud for vengeance on thoſe who had brought all his calamities upon him, inſtead of ſuing for their pardon. But the enemies of the Athenians having expatiated with vehe⯑mence on the unheard of cruelties which their republic had exerciſed on ſeveral cities belong⯑ing to their enemies, and even to their ancient allies; the inveteracy which the commanders had ſhewn againſt Syracuſe, and the evils they [304] would have made it ſuffer had they been vic⯑torious, the afflictions and groans of infinite numbers of Syracuſans who bewailed the death of their children and near relations, whoſe manes could be appeaſed no other way than by the blood of their murderers. Theſe repreſenta⯑tions prevailed, and the people returned to their ſanguinary reſolution, and followed Diocles's advice in every reſpect. Gylippus uſed his utmoſt endeavours, but in vain, to have Nicias and Demoſthenes given up to him, (eſpecially as he had taken them) in order for him to carry them to Lacedaemon; but his demand was re⯑jected with a haughty ſcorn, and the two ge⯑nerals were put to death.

All wiſe and compaſſionate men could not forbear ſhedding tears at the tragical fate of two ſuch illuſtrious perſonages, and particular⯑ly for Nicias, who, of all men of his time, ſeemed leaſt to merit ſo ignominious and un⯑timely an end. When people recollect the ſpeeches and remonſtrances he had made to prevent this war; and, on the other ſide, when they conſidered how high a regard he had al⯑ways retained for things relating to religion, the greateſt part of them were tempted to ex⯑claim againſt providence, in ſeeing that a man, who had ever ſhown the higheſt reverence for [305] the gods, and had always exerted himſelf to the utmoſt for their honour and worſhip, ſhould be ſo ill rewarded by them, and meet with no better fate than the moſt abandoned wretches.

The priſoners were ſhut up in the pri⯑ſons of Syracuſe, where, crouded one upon the other, they ſuffered incredible torment for eight months. Here they were for ever ex⯑poſed to the inclemencies of the weather, ſcorched in the day-time by the burning rays of the ſun, or frozen in the night by the colds of autumn; poiſoned by the ſtench of their own excrement, by the carcaſſes of thoſe who died of their wounds and of ſickneſs, and worn out by hunger and thirſt, for the daily allowance to each was but a ſmall meaſure of water and two of meal. Thoſe who were taken out of this place two months after, in order to be ſold as ſlaves, many of whom were citizens who had concealed their condition, found a leſs rigorous fate. Their wiſdom, their patience, and a certain air of probity and modeſty were of great advantage to them, for they were ſoon reſtored to their liberty, or met with the kindeſt and moſt generous treat⯑ment from their maſters. Several of them even owed the good uſage they met with to [306] Eurypides, the fineſt ſcenes of whoſe tragedies they repeated to the Sicilians, who were ex⯑tremely fond of them; ſo that when they re⯑turned to their own country, they went and ſa⯑luted that poet as their deliverer, and inform⯑ed him of the admirable effects wrought in their favour by his verſes.

The news of the defeat being carried to Athens, the citizens would not believe it at firſt, and were ſo far from giving credit to the report, that they ſentenced that man to death who firſt publiſhed the tidings; but when it was confirm⯑ed, all the Athenians were ſeized with the utmoſt conſternation; and, as if themſelves had not decreed the war, they vented their rage and re⯑ſentment againſt the orators who had pro⯑moted the enterprize, as well as againſt the ſoothſayers, who by their ſuppoſed prodigies, had flattered them with the hopes of ſucceſs. They had never been reduced to ſo deplorable a condition as now, having neither horſe, foot, money, gallies, nor mariners; in a word, they were in the deepeſt deſpair, expecting every moment that the enemy, elate with ſo great a victory, and ſtrengthened by the revolt of the allies, would come and invade Athens both by ſea and land with all the forces of Pe⯑loponneſus. [307] Cicero had reaſon to obſerve, ſpeaking of the battles in the harbour of Syra⯑cuſe, that it was there the troops of Athens, as well as their gallies, were ruined and ſunk, and that in this harbour the power and glory of the Athenians were miſerably ſhipwrecked.

The Athenians, however, did not ſuffer themſelves to be wholly dejected, but reſum⯑ed courage. They now reſolved to raiſe money on all ſides, and to import timber for building ſhips, in order to awe the allies, and parti⯑cularly the inhabitants of the iſland of Euboea. They retrenched all ſuperfluous expences, and eſtabliſhed a new council of ancient men who were to weigh and examine all affairs before they ſhould be propoſed to the people. In fine, they omitted nothing which might be of ſervice in the preſent conjuncture, the alarm in which they were in, and their common dan⯑ger, obliging every individual to be attentive to the neceſſities of the ſtate, and ſedulous to all advice that might promote its intereſts.

Such was the event of the ſiege of Syracuſe, the failure of which deſtroyed the power of thoſe that had undertaken it. We have hither⯑to ſeen Athens riſing in arts and arms, giving leſſons both in politeneſs, humanity, philo⯑ſophy, [306] [...] [307] [...] [308] and war, to all the nations round, and beginning to fix an empire, which, if once eſtabliſhed, no neighbouring power could over⯑throw. But their ambition grew faſter than their abilities, and their views extending be⯑yond their capacity to execute, they fell at once from that height to which for ages they had been aſſiduouſly aſpiring. We are now, therefore, to be preſented with a different picture, we are no longer to view this little ſtate panting for conqueſts over other nations, but timorouſly defending itſelf at home; we are no longer to view Athens taking the lead in the councils, and conducting the confe⯑derated armies of Greece; they now become in a meaſure annihilated, they fade from the eye of the hiſtorian; and other nations, whoſe names have hitherto been ſcarcely mentioned, emerge from obſcurity. The raſhneſs of this enterprize was ſeverely puniſhed in the loſs of their beſt generals, fleets, and armies; all now was deſtroyed, or left at the mercy of thoſe whom they had ſo unſeaſonably undertaken to ſubdue.

Their allies began now to think of throw⯑ing off their yoke; and even thoſe who had ſtood neuter took this occaſion to declare [309] againſt them. But the Lacedaemonians being more particularly elevated, reſolved to proſe⯑cute the war with vigour, and the win⯑ter was ſpent in preparations on both ſides. The Athenians, in their preſent diſtreſs, ſcarce knew where to turn; many of their allied cities revolted, and it was with the ut⯑moſt difficulty, that by placing their forces and fleets at Samos, they reduced ſuch ſtates as had abandoned them to their former obedi⯑ence, and kept the reſt in their duty: thus ſtill ſtruggling with a part of their former ſpirit, they kept themſelves in a condition to make head againſt their enemies, over whom they had obtained ſeveral advantages.

Alcibiades, who was well informed of all that paſſed among the Athenians, ſent ſecretly to the principal of them at Samos to ſound their ſenti⯑ments, and to let them know that he was not averſe to returning to Athens, provided the adminiſtration of the republic were put into the hands of the great and powerful, and not left to the populace, who had expelled him. Some of the principal officers went from Samos with a deſign to concert with him the proper meaſures for the ſucceſs of that undertaking. He promiſed to procure the Athenians not on⯑ly [310] the favour of the king of Perſia, with whom he had taken refuge, but of the king himſelf, upon condition they would aboliſh the demo⯑cracy, or popular government; becauſe the king would place more confidence in the en⯑gagements of the nobility than upon thoſe of the inconſtant and capricious multitude. The chief man who oppoſed his return was Phryni⯑cus, one of the generals, who, to compaſs his deſigns, ſent word to Aſtyochus, the Lacedae⯑momian general, that Alcibiades was treating with [...]iſſaphernes, to bring him over to the Athenian intereſt. He offered farther, to be⯑tray to him the whole army and navy of the Athenians. But his treaſonable practices being all detected by the good underſtanding betwixt Alcibiades and Aſtyochus, he was laid aſide, and afterwards ſtabbed in the market-place.

In the mean time, the Athenians went eagerly forward to complete that change of go⯑vernment which had been propoſed to them by Alcibiades; the democracy began to be aboliſh⯑ed in ſeveral cities of Athens, and ſoon after the ſcheme was carried boldly forward by Pyſander, who was chiefly concerned in this tranſaction. To give a new form to this government, he [311] cauſed ten commiſſaries, with abſolute power, to be appointed, who were, however, at a cer⯑tain fixed time, to give the people an account of what they had done. At the expiration of that term, the general aſſembly was ſummon⯑ed, wherein their firſt reſolution was, that every one ſhould be admitted to make ſuch propoſals as he thought fit, without being liable to any accuſation for infringing the law, or conſequential penalty. It was afterwards decreed, that a new council ſhould be formed, with full power to adminiſter the public af⯑fairs, and to elect new magiſtrates. For this purpoſe, five preſidents were eſtabliſhed, who nominated one hundred perſons, including themſelves. Each of theſe choſe and aſſociated three more at his own pleaſure, which made in all four hundred, in whom an abſolute power was lodged. But to amuſe the people, and to conſole them with a ſhadow of popular govern⯑ment, whilſt they inſtituted a real oligarchy, it was ſaid that the four hundred ſhould call a council of five thouſand citizens to aſſiſt them when they ſhould judge it neceſſary. The council and aſſemblies of the people were held as uſual, nothing was done, however, but by order of the four hundred. The people of [312] Athens were deprived in this manner of their liberty, which they had enjoyed almoſt an hun⯑dred years, after having aboliſhed the tyranny of the Piſiſtratides.

This decree being paſſed without oppoſition, after the ſeparation of the aſſembly the four hundred, armed with daggers, and attended by an hundred and twenty young men, whom they made uſe of when any execution required it, entered the ſenate, and compelled the ſenators to retire, after having paid them the arrears due upon their appointments. They elected new magiſtrates out of their own body, ob⯑ſerving the uſual ceremonies upon ſuch occa⯑ſions. They did not think proper to recall thoſe who were baniſhed, leſt they ſhould au⯑thorize the return of Alcibiades, whoſe uncon⯑troulable ſpirit they apprehended, and who would ſoon have made himſelf maſter of the people. Abuſing their power in a tyrannical manner, they put ſome to death, others they baniſhed, and confiſcated their eſtates with im⯑punity. All who ventured to oppoſe this change, or even to complain of it, were butchered up⯑on falſe pretexts, and thoſe were intimidated who demanded juſtice of the murderers. The four hundred, ſoon after their eſtabliſhment, [313] ſent ten deputies to Samos for the army's con⯑currence to their eſtabliſhment.

The army, in the mean time, which was at Samos, proteſted againſt thoſe proceedings in the city; and, at the perſuaſion of Thraſybulus, recalled Alcibiades, and created him general, with full power to ſail directly to the Pyraeus and cruſh this new tyranny. Alcibiades, however, would not give way to this raſh opinion, but went firſt to ſhew himſelf to Tiſſaphernes, and let him know, that it was now in his power to treat him as a friend or an enemy. By which means he awed the Athenians with Tiſſa⯑phernes, and Tiſſaphernes with the Atheni⯑ans. When, afterwards, the four hundred ſent to Samos to vindicate their proceedings, the army was for putting the meſſengers to death, and perſiſted in the deſign upon the Pyraeus, but Alcibiades, by oppoſing it, mani⯑feſtly ſaved the commonwealth.

In the mean while, the innovation in Athens had occaſioned ſuch factions and tumults, that the four hundred were more intent upon pro⯑viding for their ſafety than proſecuting the war. In order to which, they fortiſied that part of the Pyraeus which commands the mouth of the haven, and reſolved, in caſe of extremi⯑ty, [314] rather to let in the Lacedaemonians than expoſe their perſons to the fury of their fellow-citizens. The Spartans took occaſion from theſe diſturbances, to hover about with forty-two gallies under the conduct of Hegeſandri⯑des; and the Athenians, with thirty-ſix under Timochares, were forced to engage them, but loſt part of their fleet, and the reſt were diſ⯑perſed. To add to which, all Euboea, except Oreus, revolted to the Peloponneſians.

This failure of ſucceſs ſerved to give the finiſhing blow to the power of the four hun⯑dred. The Athenians without delay depoſ⯑ed them as the authors of all their troubles and diviſions under which they groaned. Al⯑cibiades was recalled by unanimous conſent, and earneſtly ſollicited to make all poſſible haſte to the aſſiſtance of the city. But judging that if he returned immediately to Athens, he ſhould owe his recall to the compaſſion and favour of the people, he reſolved to render his return glorious and triumphant, and to de⯑ſerve it by ſome conſiderable exploit. For this purpoſe, leaving Samos with a ſmall number of ſhips, he cruiſed about the iſland of Cos and Cnidos, and having learnt that Mindarus, the Spartan admiral, was ſailed to the Helleſ⯑pont [315] with his whole fleet, and that the Athe⯑nians were in purſuit of him, he ſteered that way with the utmoſt diligence to ſupport them, and arrived happily with his eighteen veſſels at the time the fleets were engaged near Aby⯑dos, in a battle which laſted till night, with⯑out any advantage on either ſide. His arrival gave the Spartans new courage at firſt, who believed him ſtill their friend, and diſpirited the Athenians. But Alcibiades hanging out the Athenian flag in the admiral's galley, fell upon them and put them to flight; and ani⯑mated by his ſucceſs, ſunk their veſſels, and made a great ſlaughter of their ſoldiers who had thrown themſelves into the ſea to ſave them⯑ſelves by ſwimming. The Athenians, after having taken thirty of their gallies, and retaken thoſe they had loſt, erected a trophy.

Alcibiades after this victory went to viſit Tiſſaphernes, who was ſo far from receiving him as he expected, that he immediately cauſ⯑ed him to be ſeized, and ſent away priſoner to Sardis, telling him he had orders from the king to make war upon the Athenians; but the truth is, he was afraid of being accuſed to his maſter by the Peloponneſians, and thought, by this act of injuſtice, to purge himſelf from [316] all former imputations. Alcibiades, after thirty days, made his eſcape to Clazomenae, and ſoon after bore down upon the Pelopon⯑neſian fleet, which rode at anchor before the port of Cyzicus. With twenty of his beſt ſhips he broke through the enemy, purſued thoſe who abandoned their ſhips and fled to land, and made a great ſlaughter. The Athe⯑nians took all the enemies ſhips, made them⯑ſelves maſters of Cyzicus, while Mingimis, the Lacedaemonian general, was found among the number of the ſlain.

Alcibiades well knew how to make uſe of the victory he had gained; and, at the head of his conquering forces, took ſeveral cities which had revolted from the Athenians. Calcedon, Salymbria, and Byzantium, were among the number. Thus ſluſhed with conqueſt, he ſeemed to deſire nothing ſo ardently as to be once more ſeen by his countrymen, as his preſence would be a triumph to his friends, and an in⯑ſult to his enemies. Accordingly, being re⯑called, he ſet ſail for Athens. Beſides the ſhips covered with bucklers and ſpoils of all ſorts in the manner of trophies, a great number of veſſels alſo were towed after him by way of triumph; he diſplayed alſo the enſigns and [317] ornaments of thoſe he had burnt, which were more than the others, the whole amounting to about two hundred ſhips. It is ſaid, that reflecting on what had been done againſt him, upon approaching the port, he was ſtruck with ſome terror, and was afraid to quit his veſſel till he ſaw from the deck a great num⯑ber of his friends and relations who were come to the ſhore to receive him, and earneſtly en⯑treated him to land. As ſoon as he was landed, the multitude who came out to meet him, fixed their eyes on him, thronged about him, ſaluted him with loud acclamations, and crowned him with garlands; he received their congratulations with great ſatisfaction; he de⯑ſired to be diſcharged from his former condem⯑nation, and obtained from the prieſts an ab⯑ſolution from all their former denunciations.

Yet, notwithſtanding theſe triumphs, the real power of Athens was now no more, the ſtrength of the ſtate was gone, and even the paſſion for liberty was loſt in the common de⯑generacy of the times; many of the meaner ſort of people paſſionately deſired that Alcibiades would take the ſovereignty upon him, they even deſired him to ſet himſelf above the reach of envy, by ſecuring all power in his own [318] perſon; the great, however, were not ſo ſan⯑guine in their gratitude, they were content with appointing him generaliſſimo of all their forces; they granted him whatever he demand⯑ed, and gave him for colleagues the generals moſt agreeable to him. He ſet ſail according⯑ly, with an hundred ſhips, and ſteered for the iſland of Andros that had revolted, where, having defeated the inhabitants, he went from thence to Samos, intending to make that the ſeat of the war. In the mean time, the Lace⯑daemonians, juſtly alarmed at his ſucceſs, made choice of a general ſuppoſed to be cap⯑able of making head againſt him; for this reaſon, they fixed upon Lyſander, who, though born of the higheſt family, had been bred up to hardſhips, and paid an entire re⯑ſpect to the diſcipline and manners of his country. He was brave and aſpiring, and, like his countrymen, ſacrificed all ſorts of pleaſure to his ambition. He had an evenneſs and ſedateneſs of temper which made all condi⯑tions of life ſit eaſy upon him, but withal was extremely inſinuating, crafty, and deſigning, and made his intereſt the only meaſure of truth and falſhood. This deceitful temper was ob⯑ſerved to run through the whole courſe of his [319] life; upon which occaſion it was ſaid, that he cheated children with foul play, and men with perjury: and it was a maxim of his own, that when the lion fails we muſt make uſe of the fox.

Lyſander having brought his army to Ephe⯑ſus, gave orders for aſſembling ſhips of bur⯑den from all parts, and erected an arſenal for building of gallies; he made the ports free for merchants, gave the public places to artificers, put all arts in motion, and, by theſe means, filled the city with riches, and laid the founda⯑tion of that magnificence which he afterwards obtained. Whilſt he was making theſe diſpo⯑ſitions, he received advice that Cyrus, the Perſian prince, was arrived at Sardis, he, therefore, ſet out from Epheſus to make him a viſit, and to complain of Tiſſaphernes, whoſe duplicity and treachery had been fatal to their common cauſe. Cyrus, who had a perſonal enmity to that general, came into the views of Lyſander, agreed to increaſe the ſeamens pay, and to give him all the aſſiſtance in his power.

This largeſs filled the whole fleet with ardour and alacrity, and almoſt unmanned the enemies gallies, the greateſt part of the [320] mariners deſerting to the party where the pay was beſt. The Athenians, in deſpair, upon receiving this news, endeavoured to conciliate Cyrus by the interpoſition of Tiſſaphernes, but he would not hearken to them, notwith⯑ſtanding the ſatrap repreſented, that it was not for the king's intereſt to aggrandize the Lace⯑daemonians, but to balance the power of one ſide with that of the other, in order to per⯑petuate the war, and to ruin both by their own divſions.

Alcibiades, on the other hand, having oc⯑caſion to leave the fleet, in order to raiſe the ſupplies, gave the command of his fleet to An⯑tiochus, with expreſs command not to engage or attack the enemy in his abſence. Antiochus, however, was willing to do ſome action that might procure him favour without a partner in the glory; he was ſo far, therefore, from ob⯑ſerving the orders that were given him, that he preſently ſailed away for Epheſus; and, at the very mouth of the harbour, uſed every art to provoke the enemy to an engagement. Ly⯑ſander at firſt manned out a few ſhips to repel his inſults; but as the Athenian ſhips advanced to ſupport Antiochus, other gallies belonging to the Lacedaemonians alſo came on, till both [321] fleets arrived by little and little, and the en⯑gagement became general on both ſides. Ly⯑ſander at length was victorious; Antiochus was ſlain, and fifteen Athenian gallies were taken. It was in vain that Alcibiades ſoon after came up to the relief of his friends; it was in vain that he offered to renew the com⯑bat, Lyſander, content with the victory he had gained, was unwilling again to truſt to for⯑tune.

The fickle multitude of Athens again, therefore, began to accuſe Alcibiades of in⯑ſufficiency. He who was juſt before reſpected even to adoration, was now diſcarded upon a groundleſs ſuſpicion, that he had not done his duty. But it was the glory he had obtained by his paſt ſervices that now ruined him; for his continual ſucceſs had begot in the people ſuch an opinion of him, that they thought it impoſſible for him to fail in any thing he un⯑dertook, and from thence his enemies took oc⯑caſion to queſtion his integrity, and to impute to him both his own and other miſcarriages. Callicratidas was appointed to ſucceed Lyſan⯑der, whoſe year was expired; alike ſevere to himſelf and others, inacceſſible to flattery and ſloth, the declared enemy of luxury, he re⯑tained the modeſty, temperance, and auſterity [322] of the ancient Spartans, virtues that began to diſtinguiſh him particularly, as they were not too common in his time. His probity and juſtice were proof againſt all things; his ſim⯑plicity and integrity abhorred all falſhood and fraud, to which were joined a truly Spartan nobleneſs and grandeur of ſoul. The firſt at⯑tempt of the new admiral was againſt Me⯑thymna, in Leſbos, which he took by ſtorm. He then threatened Conon, who was appoint⯑ed general of the Athenians, that he would make him leave debauching the ſea, and accord⯑ingly ſoon after purſued him into the port of Mytilene with an hundred and ſeventy ſail, took thirty of his ſhips, and beſieged him in the town, from which he cut off all proviſions. He ſoon after took ten ſhips more out of twelve which were coming to his relief. Then hear⯑ing that the Athenians had fitted out their whole ſtrength, conſiſting of an hundred and fifty ſail; he left fifty of his ſhips, under Etoni⯑cus to carry on the ſiege of Mytilene, and with an hundred and twenty more met the Atheni⯑ans at Arginuſae, over againſt Leſbos. His pilot adviſed him to retreat, for that the enemy was ſuperior in number. He told him that Sparta would be never the worſe inhabited though he were ſlain. The fight was long and obſtinate, [323] until at laſt the ſhips of Callicratidas charg⯑ng through the enemy was ſunk, and the reſt fled. The Peloponneſians loſt about ſeventy ſail, and the Athenians twenty-five, with moſt of the men in them. The Athenian admirals, who had the joint command of the ſleet, in⯑ſtead of being rewarded for ſo ſignal a victory, were made a barbarous inſtance of the power and ingratitude of their fellow-citizens. Upon a relation of the fight before the ſenate, it was alledged, they had ſuffered their men who were ſhipwrecked to be loſt when they might have ſaved them; upon which, they were clapped in irons in order to anſwer it to the people. They urged in their defence, that they were purſuing the enemy; and, at the ſame time, gave orders about taking up the men to thoſe whoſe buſineſs it more peculiarly was, particularly to Theramenes, who was now their accuſer; but yet, that their orders could not be executed by reaſon of a violent ſtorm which happened at that time. This ſeemed ſo reaſonable and ſatiſ⯑factory, that ſeveral ſtood up and offered to bail them: but, in another aſſembly, the po⯑pular incendiaries demanded juſtice, and ſo awed the judges, that Socrates was the only man who had courage enough to declare, he would do nothing contrary to law, and accord⯑ingly [324] refuſed to act. After a long debate, eight of the ten were condemned, and ſix of them were put to death, among whom was Pericles, ſon of the great Pericles. He declared, that they had failed in nothing of their duty, as they had given orders that the dead bodies ſhould be taken up; that if any one were guilty, it was he, who being charged with theſe orders, had neglected to put them in execution, but that he accuſed nobody, and that the tempeſt which came on unexpectedly, at the very inſtant, was an unanſwerable apology, and entirely diſcharged the accuſed from all guilt. He demanded that a whole day ſhould be allowed them to make their defence, a favour not denied to the moſt criminal, and that they ſhould be tried ſeparately. He repreſented, that they were not in the leaſt obliged to pre⯑cipitate a ſentence wherein the lives of the moſt Illuſtrious of the citizens were concerned; that it was in ſome meaſure attacking the gods, to make men reſponſible for the winds and weather; that they could not without the moſt flagrant ingratitude and injuſtice put the con⯑querors to death, to whom they ought to de⯑cree crowns and honours, or give up the de⯑fenders of their country to the rage of thoſe who envied them; that if they did ſo, their [325] unjuſt judgment would be followed by a ſud⯑den, but vain repentance, which would leave behind it the ſharpeſt remorſe, and cover them with eternal ſhame and infamy; among the number alſo was Diomedon, a perſon equally eminent for his valour and his probity, as he was carrying to execution, he demanded to be heard. ‘"Athenians, ſaid he, I wiſh the ſen⯑tence you have paſſed upon us may not prove the misfortune of the republic; but I have one favour to aſk of you in behalf of my col⯑leagues and myſelf, which is to acquit us be⯑fore the gods of the vows we made to them for you and ourſelves, as we are not in a condi⯑tion to diſcharge them, for it is to their pro⯑tection invoked before the battle, we acknow⯑ledge that we are indebted for the victory gained by us over the enemy."’ There was not a good citizen that did not melt into tears at this diſcourſe, ſo full of goodneſs and religion, and admire with ſurprize the moderation of a perſon, who ſeeing himſelf unjuſtly condemned, did not however vent the leaſt reſentment, or even complaint againſt his judges, but was ſolely intent (in favour of an ungrateful coun⯑try which had doomed them to periſh) upon what it owed to the gods in common with them for the victory they had lately obtained.

[326] This complication of injuſtice and ingrati⯑tude ſeemed to give the finiſhing blow to the affairs of the Athenian ſtate; they ſtruggled for a while after their defeat at Syracuſe, but from hence they were entirely ſunk, though ſeemingly in the arms of victory.

The enemy after their laſt defeat had once more recourſe to Lyſander, who had ſo often led them to conqueſt; on him they placed their chief confidence, and ardently ſolicited his return. The Lacedaemonians, to gratify their allies, and yet to obſerve their laws, which forbad that honour being conferred twice on the ſame perſon, ſent him with an inferior title, but with the power of admiral. Thus appoint⯑ed, Lyſander ſailed towards the Helleſpont, and laid ſiege to Lampſacus; the place was carried by ſtorm, and abandoned by Lyſander to the mercy of the ſoldiers. The Athenians, who followed him cloſe, upon the news of his ſucceſs ſteered forward towards Oleſtus, and from thence ſailing along the coaſt, halted over-againſt the enemy at Aegos Potamos, a place fatal for the Athenians.

The Helleſpont is not above two thouſand paces broad in that place. The two armies ſeeing themſelves ſo near each other, expected only to reſt that day, and were in hopes of [327] coming to a battle on the next. But Lyſander had another deſign in view; he commanded the ſeamen and pilots to go on board their gallies, as if they were in reality to fight the next morning at break of day, to hold them⯑ſelves in readineſs, and to wait his orders in profound ſilence. He ordered the land army in like manner to draw up in battle upon the coaſt, and to wait the day without any noiſe. On the morning as ſoon as the ſun was riſen, the Athenians began to row towards them with their whole fleet in one line, and to bid them defiance. Lyſander, though his ſhips were ranged in order of battle, with their heads to⯑wards the enemy, lay ſtill without making any movement. In the evening when the Athe⯑nians withdrew, he did not ſuffer his ſoldiers to go aſhore till two or three gallies which he had ſent out to obſerve them, were returned with advice, that they had ſeen the enemy land. The next day paſſed in the ſame man⯑ner, as did the third and fourth. Such a con⯑duct, which argued reſerve and apprehenſion, extremely augmented the ſecurity and boldneſs of the Athenians, and inſpired them with an high contempt for an army, which fear pre⯑vented from ſhewing themſelves or attempting any thing.

[328] Whilſt this paſſed, Alcibiades, who was near the fleet, took horſe and came to the Athenian generals, to whom he repreſented, that they kept upon a very diſadvantageous coaſt, where there were neither ports nor ci⯑ties in the neighbourhood; that they were ob⯑liged to bring their proviſions from Seſtos, with great danger and difficulty, and that they were very much in the wrong to ſuffer the ſoldiers and mariners of the fleet, as ſoon as they were aſhore to ſtraggle and diſperſe themſelves at their pleaſure, whilſt the enemy's fleet faced them in view, accuſtomed to execute the or⯑ders of their general with inſtant obedience, and upon the ſlighteſt ſignal. He offered alſo to attack the enemy by land with a ſtrong body of Thracian troops and to force them to a battle. The generals, eſpecially Tydeus and Menander, jealous of their command, did not content themſelves with refuſing his offers, from the opinion, that if the event proved un⯑fortunate, the whole blame would fall upon them, and if favourable, that Alcibiades would engroſs the honour of it, but rejected alſo with inſult his wiſe and ſalutary counſel, as if a man in diſgrace loſt his ſenſe and abilities with the favour of the commonwealth. Alcibiades withdrew.

[329] The fifth day the Athenians preſented them⯑ſelves again, and offered him battle, retiring in the evening according to cuſtom with more inſulting airs than the days before. Lyſander, as uſual, detached ſome gallies to obſerve them, with orders to return with the utmoſt diligence when they ſaw the Athenians landed, and to put a brown buckler at each ſhip's head as ſoon as they reached the middle of the channel. Himſelf, in the mean time, ran through the whole line in his galley, exhort⯑ing the pilots and officers to hold the ſeamen and ſoldiers in readineſs to row and fight on the firſt ſignal.

As ſoon as the bucklers were put up in the ſhip's heads, and the admiral's galley had given the ſignal by the ſound of trumpet, the whole fleet ſet forwards in good order. The land army, at the ſame time, made all poſſible haſte to the top of the promontory to ſee the battle. The ſtreight that ſeparates the two continents in this place is about fifteen ſtadia, or three quarters of a league in breadth, which ſpace was preſently cleared through the activity and diligence of the rowers. Conon, the Atheni⯑an general, was the firſt who perceived from ſhore the enemy's fleet advance in good order to attack him, upon which he immediately cri⯑ed [330] out for the troops to embark. In the height of ſorrow and perplexity, ſome he call⯑ed to by their names, ſome he conjured, and others he forced to go on board their gallies, but all his endeavours and emotion were in⯑effectual, the ſoldiers being diſperſed on all ſides. For they were no ſooner come on ſhore than ſome were run to the ſuttlers, ſome to walk in the country, ſome to ſleep in their tents, and others had began to dreſs their ſup⯑pers. This proceeded from the want of vigi⯑lance and experience in their generals, who, not ſuſpecting the leaſt danger, indulged them⯑ſelves in taking their repoſe, and gave their ſol⯑diers the ſame liberty.

The enemy had already fallen on with loud cries, and a great noiſe of their oars, when Conon diſengaging himſelf with nine gallies, of which number was the ſacred ſhip, he ſtood away for Cyprus, where he took re⯑fuge with Evagoras. The Peloponneſians falling upon the reſt of the fleet, took im⯑mediately the gallies which were empty, and diſabled and deſtroyed ſuch as began to fill with men. The ſoldiers who ran without or⯑der or arms to their relief, were either killed in the endeavour to get on board, or flying on ſhore, were cut to pieces by the enemy, who [331] landed in purſuit of them. Lyſander took three thouſand priſoners, with all the generals, and the whole fleet, after having plundered the camp, and faſtened the enemy's gallies to the ſterns of his own, he returned to Lampſa⯑cus amidſt the ſounds of flutes and ſongs of triumph. It was his glory to have atchieved one of the greateſt military exploits recorded in hiſtory with little or no loſs, and to have terminated a war in the ſmall ſpace of an hour which had already laſted ſeven and twenty years, and which, perhaps, without him had been of much longer continuance. Lyſander immediately ſent diſpatches with this agreeable news to Sparta.

The three thouſand priſoners taken in this battle having been condemned to die, Lyſan⯑der called upon Philocles, one of the Athenian generals, who had cauſed all the priſoners taken in two gallies, the one of Andros, the other of Corinth, to be thrown from the top of a precipice, and had formerly perſuaded the people of Athens to make a decree for cutting off the thumb of the right hand of all the priſoners of war, in order to diſable them for handling the pike, and that they might be fit only to ſerve at the oar. Lyſander, there⯑fore, cauſed him to be brought forth, and [332] aſked him what ſentence he would paſs upon himſelf for having induced his city to paſs that cruel decree. Philocles, without depart⯑ing from his haughtineſs in the leaſt, notwith⯑ſtanding the extreme danger he was in, made anſwer: ‘"Accuſe not people of crimes who have no judges, but as you are victors, uſe your right, and do by us as we had done by you if we had conquered."’ At the ſame in⯑ſtant he went into a bath, put on afterwards a magnificent robe, and marched foremoſt to the execution. All the priſoners were put to the ſword except Adamantus, who had oppoſ⯑ed the decree.

When the news of the entire defeat of the army came to Athens, by a ſhip which arrived in the night at the Piraeus, the city was in conſternation. They naturally expected a ſiege; and, in fact, Lyſander was preparing to beſiege them. Nothing was heard but cries of ſorrow and deſpair in every part of it. They imagined the enemy already at their gates; they repreſented to themſelves the miſeries of a long ſiege, a cruel famine, the ruin and burning of their city, the inſolence of a proud victor, and the ſhameful ſlavery they were upon the point of experiencing, more afflict⯑ing and inſupportable to them than the moſt [333] ſevere puniſhments, and death itſelf. The next day the aſſembly was ſummoned, where⯑in it was reſolved to ſhut up all the ports, one only excepted, to repair the breaches in the walls, and mount guard to prepare againſt a ſiege.

Their fears were ſoon confirmed by reality. Lyſander finding numbers of Athenians diſ⯑perſed in different cities, commanded them all on pain of death to take ſhelter in Athens. This he did with a deſign, ſo to croud the city as to be able ſoon to reduce it by famine. In effect, he ſoon after arrived at the port of Athens with an hundred and fifty ſail. While Agis and Pauſanias, the two kings of Sparta, advanced with their army to beſiege it by land.

The wretched Athenians thus hemmed in on every ſide, without proviſions, ſhips, or hopes of relief, prepared to meet the laſt ex⯑tremity with patience; in this manner, with⯑out ſpeaking the leaſt word of a capitulation, and dying in the ſtreets by numbers, they ob⯑ſtinately continued on the defenſive; but, at length, their corn and proviſions being entire⯑ly conſumed, they found themſelves compelled to ſend deputies to Agis, with offers of aban⯑doning all their poſſeſſions, their city and [334] port only excepted. The haughty Lacedae⯑monian referred their deputies to the ſtate it⯑ſelf, and when the ſuppliant deputies had made known their commiſſion to the ephori, they were ordered to retire, and to come with other propoſals if they expected peace. At length, Theramenes, an Athenian, undertook to manage the treaty with Lyſander; and, af⯑ter three months of cloſe conference, he re⯑ceived full powers to treat at Lacedaemon. When he, attended by nine others, arrived be⯑fore the ephori, it was there ſtrongly urged by ſome of the confederates, that Athens ſhould be totally deſtroyed, without hearken⯑ing to any farther propoſals. But the Lace⯑daemonians told them, they would not deſtroy a city which had ſo eminently reſcued Greece in the moſt critical juncture, and conſented to a peace upon theſe conditions: that the long walls and fortifications of the Piraeus ſhould be demoliſhed; that they ſhould deliver up all their ſhips but twelve; that they ſhould reſtore their exiles; that they ſhould make a league offenſive and defenſive with the Lace⯑daemonians, and ſerve them in all their expe⯑ditions, both by ſea and land. Theramenes be⯑ing returned with the articles to Athens, was aſked why he acted ſo contrary to the inten⯑tions [335] of Themiſtocles, and gave thoſe walls in⯑to the hands of the Lacedaemonians which he built in defiance of them? I have my eye, ſays he, upon Themiſtocles his deſign; he raiſed theſe walls for the preſervation of the city, and I for the very ſame reaſon would have them deſtroyed; for, if walls only ſecure a city, Sparta, which has none, is in a very ill condition. The Athenians, at another time, would not have thought this a ſatisfactory anſwer, but being reduced to the laſt extremi⯑ty, it did not admit of a long debate whether they ſhould accept the treaty. At laſt, Lyſan⯑der coming up the Piraeus, demoliſhed the walls with great ſolemnity, and all the inſulting triumphs of muſic. Thus a final period was put to this unhappy war, which had con⯑tinued for ſeven and twenty years, in which heaps of treaſure and deluge of blood were exhauſted.

CHAP. IX. From the Demolition of the ATHENIAN Power to the Death of SOCRATES.

THE victory of Lyſander was ſo terrible a ſhock to Athens, that it only ſurvived to be ſenſible of the loſs of its own power; however, the conquerors were ſo generous as not to ex⯑tinguiſh the name; they ſaid they would not be guilty of putting out one of the eyes of Greece: but they impoſed ſome farther marks of conqueſt on them; they obliged the people to demoliſh the democracy, and ſubmit to the government of thirty men, who were common⯑ly known by the name of the thirty tyrants. Though the Greeks were apt enough to give that name to men of virtuous characters, theſe men, who were the creatures of Lyſander, in every reſpect deſerved the moſt opprobrious de⯑nomination; inſtead of compiling and publiſhing a more perfect body of laws, which was the pre⯑tence for their being choſen, they began to exert their power of life and death: and though they conſtituted a ſenate, and other magiſtrates, they made no farther uſe of them than to confirm [337] their authority, and to ſee their commands executed. However, they at firſt acted cau⯑tiouſly, and condemned only the moſt deteſted and ſcandalous part of the citizens, ſuch as lived by evidencing and informing; but this was only to give a colour to their proceedings; their deſign was to make themſelves abſolute, and knowing that was not to be done without a foreign power, their next ſtep was to deſire a guard might be ſent them from Sparta, until ſuch times as they could clear the city of all diſaffected perſons, and thoroughly ſettle the government. Lyſander, accordingly, pro⯑cured them a guard under the command of Callibius, who, by bribes and artifices, was wrought over to their deſigns, and then ſeen to act without controul, filling the city with the blood of thoſe who, on account of their riches, intereſt, or good qualities, were moſt likely to make head againſt them.

One of the firſt acts of their cruelty was in procuring the death of Alcibiades, who had taken refuge in the dominions of Perſia. This unfortunate general, ſtill mindful of the debt he owed his country, employed his utmoſt at⯑tention in giving it the earlieſt notices of what could effect its freedom or its ſafety. Cyrus, the prince of Perſia, having reſolved to de⯑throne [338] his brother Artaxerxes, entered into a treaty with the Lacedaemonians to aſſiſt him in his deſigns. Alcibiades did all that was in his power to obſtruct the ſcheme; but the Lace⯑daemonian partiſans at Athens, that is to ſay, the thirty tyrants, apprehended the intrigues of ſo ſuperior a genius as his, and repreſented to their maſters that they were inevitably ruined, if they did not find means to rid themſelves of Alcibiades. The Lacedaemonians thereupon wrote to Pharnabaſus, and with an abject meanneſs not to be excuſed, and which ſhewed how much Sparta had degenerated from her ancient manners, made preſſing inſtances to him to deliver them at any rate from ſo formid⯑able an enemy. This ſatrap complied with their wiſhes. Alcibiades was then in a ſmall town of Phrygia, where he lived with his concubine Timandra. Thoſe who were ſent to kill him not daring to enter his houſe, contented them⯑ſelves with ſurrounding and ſetting it on fire. Alcibiades having quitted it through the flames, ſword in hand, the barbarians were afraid to ſtay to come to blows with him, but ſlying and retreating as he advanced, they poured their darts and arrows upon him from a diſtance, and he fell dead upon the ſpot. Timandra took up his body, and having adorned and covered [339] it with the fineſt robes ſhe had, ſhe made as magnificent a funeral for it as her preſent con⯑dition would admit.

Such was the end of Alcibiades, whoſe great virtues were ſtifled and ſuppreſſed by ſtill greater vices. It is not eaſy to ſay whether his good or bad qualities were moſt pernicious to his country, for with the one he deceived, and with the other he oppreſſed it. In him diſtinguiſhed valour was united with nobility of blood. His perſon was beautiful and finely made; he was eloquent, of great ability in af⯑fairs, inſinuating, and formed for charming all mankind. He loved glory, but without prejudice to his inclination ſor pleaſure, nor was he ſo fond of pleaſure as to neglect his glory for it: he knew how to give into, or ab⯑ſtract himſelf from the allurements of luxury, ac⯑cording to the ſituation of his affaris. Never was there ductility of genius equal to his, he meta⯑morphoſed himſelf with incredible facility, into the moſt contrary forms, and ſupported them all with as much eaſe and grace as if each had been natural to him.

In this manner the thirty proceeded, and fearing to be oppoſed by the multitude, they inveſted three thouſand citizens with ſome part [340] of their power, and by their aſſiſtance preſerv⯑ed the reſt. But thoroughly emblodened by ſuch an acceſſion to their party, they agreed to ſingle out every one his man, to put them to death, and ſeize their eſtates for the main⯑tenance of their gartiſon. Theramenes, one of their number, was the only man that was ſtruck with horror at their proceedings; where⯑fore Critias, the principal author, thought it neceſſary to remove him, and accuſed him to the ſenate of endeavouring to ſubvert the ſtate. Sentence of death was, therefore, paſſed up⯑on him, and he was obliged to drink the juice of hemlock, the uſual mode of execution at that time in Athens. Socrates, whoſe diſciple he had been, was the only perſon of the ſenate who ventured to appear in his defence; he made an attempt to reſcue him out of the hands of the officer of juſtice, and after his execution went about as it were in defiance of the thirty, exhorting and animating the ſenators and citi⯑zens againſt them.

The tyrants, delivered from a colleague whoſe preſence alone was a continual reproach to them, no longer obſerved any meaſures. Nothing paſſed throughout the city but impri⯑ſonments and murders. Every body trembled [341] for themſelves or their friends. The general deſolation had no remedy, nor was there any hope of regaining loſt liberty.

All the citizens of any conſideration in Athens, and who retained a love of freedom, quitted a place reduced to ſo hard and ſhame⯑ful a ſlavery, and ſought elſewhere an aſylum and retreat where they might live in ſafety. The Lacedaemonians had the inhumanity to en⯑deavour to deprive thoſe unhappy fugitives of this laſt reſource. They publiſhed an edict to prohibit the cities of Greece from giving them refuge, decreed that they ſhould be delivered up to the thirty tyrants, and condemned all ſuch as ſhould contravene the execution of this edict to pay a fine of five talents. Only two cities rejected with diſdain ſo unjuſt an or⯑dinance, Megara and Thebes, the latter of which made a decree to puniſh all perſons whatſoever that ſhould ſee an Athenian attack⯑ed by his enemies without doing his utmoſt to aſſiſt him. Lyſias, an orator of Syracuſe, who had been baniſhed by the thirty, raiſed five hundred ſoldiers at his own expence, and ſent them to the aid of the common country of eloquence.

Thraſybulus, a man of admirable character, who had long deplored the miſeries of his coun⯑try, [342] was now the firſt to relieve it. At Thebes he fell into a conſultation with his fellow-citi⯑zens, and the reſult was, that ſome vigorous effort, though it carried never ſo much dan⯑ger, ought to be made for the benefit of public liberty. Accordingly, with a par⯑ty of thirty men only, as Nepos ſays; but, as Xenophon more probably ſays, of near ſeven⯑ty, he ſeized upon Phyle, a ſtrong caſtle on the frontiers of Attica. This enterprize gave the alarm to the tyrants, who immediately march⯑ed out of Athens with their three thouſand followers, and their Spartan guard, and attempt⯑ed the recovery of the place, but were repulſed with loſs. Finding they could not carry it by a ſudden aſſault, they reſolved upon a ſiege, but not being ſufficiently provided for that ſer⯑vice, and a great ſnow falling that night, they were forced to retire the next day into the city, leaving only part of their guard to prevent any farther excurſions into the country. Encou⯑raged by this ſucceſs, Thraſybulus no longer kept himſelf confined, but marched out of Phyle by night; and, at the head of a body of a thouſand men, ſeized on the Pyraeus. The thirty flew thither with their troops, and a battle ſufficiently warm enſued; but, as the ſoldiers on one ſide fought with valour and [343] vigour for their liberty, and, on the other with, indolence and neglect for the power of their op⯑preſſors, the ſucceſs was not doubtful, but fol⯑lowed the better cauſe: the tyrants were over⯑thrown; Critias was killed upon the ſpot; and, as the reſt of the army were taking to flight, Thraſybulus cried out, ‘"Wherefore do you fly from me as from a victor, rather than aſſiſt me as the avenger of your liberty? We are not enemies, but fellow-citizens, nor have we declared war againſt the city, but againſt the thirty tyrants."’ He continued, with bid⯑ding them remember that they had the ſame origin, country, laws, and religion; he exhort⯑ed them to compaſſionate their exiled brethren, to reſtore to them their country, and reſume their liberty themſelves. This diſcourſe had ſuitable effects. The army upon their return to Athens, expelled the thirty, and ſubſtituted ten perſons to govern in their room, but whoſe conduct proved no better than that of thoſe whom they ſucceeded.

Though the government was thus altered, and the thirty were depoſed from power, they ſtill had hopes of being reinſtated in their for⯑mer authority, and ſent deputies to Lace⯑daemon to demand aid. Lyſander was for [344] granting it to them, but Pauſanias, who then reigned in Sparta, moved with compaſſion at the deplorable condition of the Athenians, favoured them in ſecret, and obtained a peace for them; it was ſealed with the blood of the tyrants, who having taken arms to reinſtate themſelves in government, were put to the ſword, and Athens left in full poſſeſſion of its liberty. Thraſybulus then propoſed an am⯑neſty, by which the citizens engaged upon oath that all paſt actions ſhould be buried in oblivion, and the government was re-eſtabliſhed in its ancient forms; their laws were reſtored to their paſt vigour, the magiſtrates elected with the uſual ceremonies, and democracy was once more reſtored to this unfortunate people. Xenophon obſerves, that this inteſtine fury had conſumed as many in eight months, as the Peloponneſian war had done in ten years.

Upon the re-eſtabliſhment of affairs in Athens, the other ſtates enjoyed the ſame tranquility, or rather kept in a quiet ſubjec⯑tion to Sparta, which now held the undoubted ſovereignty of Greece. But it being a maxim with the Spartans, that this ſovereignty was not to be maintained but by a conſtant courſe of action; they were ſtill ſeeking freſh occa⯑ſions [345] for war; and part of their forces, to⯑gether with another body of Grecians, being at this time engaged in a quarrel between the Perſian king and his brother, it will be neceſ⯑ſary to paſs over into Aſia, and relate ſo much of the Perſian affairs as concerns the expedition of Cyrus, wherein thoſe forces were employed, eſpecially ſince it is attended with circum⯑ſtances which, if duly conſidered, will eaſily make it paſs for one of the greateſt actions of antiquity.

It has been already obſerved, that Cyrus, the ſon of Darius Nothus, ſaw with pain his elder brother Artaxerxes upon the throne, and more than once attempted to remove him. Arta⯑xerxes was not inſenſible of what he had to fear from a brother of his enterpriſing and am⯑bitious ſpirit, but could not refuſe pardoning him on the prayers and tears of his mother Paryſatis, who doated upon this youngeſt ſon. He removed him, therefore, into Aſia to his go⯑vernment, confiding in him contrary to all the rules of policy, an abſolute authority over the provinces left him by the will of the king his father. He was no ſooner appointed in this manner, but he uſed all his arts with the bar⯑barians and the Grecians to procure power and [346] popularity, in order to dethrone his brother. Clearches retired to his court, after having been baniſhed from Sparta, and was of great ſervice to him, being an able, experienced, and valiant captain. At the ſame time, ſeveral cities in the provinces of Tiſſaphernes revolted from their obedience in favour of Cyrus. This incident, which was not an effect of chance, but of the ſecret practices of that prince, gave birth to a war between the two brothers. The emiſſaries of Cyrus at the court, were perpetu⯑ally diſperſing reports and opinions amongſt the people to prepare their minds for the in⯑tended change and revolt. They talked that the ſtate required a king of Cyrus's character, a king magnificent, liberal, who loved war, and ſhowered his favours upon thoſe that ſerv⯑ed him; and that it was neceſſary, for the grandeur of the empire, to have a prince up⯑on the throne ſired with ambition and valour, for the ſupport and augmentation of his glory.

The troops of Cyrus, which were apparent⯑ly levied for the buſineſs of the ſtate, but in fact to overturn it, conſiſted of thirteen thou⯑ſand Greeks, which were the flower and chief force of his army. Clearches, the La⯑cedaemonian, [347] who commanded the Pelopon⯑neſian troops, was the only man of all the Greeks that was let into the Perſian prince's deſign; he made it his ſole application to gain the affections of his people during their marches, by treating them with humanity, converſing freely with them, and giving ef⯑fectual orders that they ſhould want for no⯑thing. The Grecian troops knew neither the intent nor the occaſion of the war; they ſet out for Sardis, at length, and marched towards the upper provinces of Athens.

When they were arrived at Tarfus, the Greeks refuſed to march any farther, rightly ſuſpecting that they were intended againſt the king, and loudly exclaiming that they had not entered into the ſervice upon that condition. Clearchus, who commanded them, had occa⯑ſion for all his addreſs and ability to ſtifle this commotion in its birth. At firſt he made uſe of authority and force, but with very ill ſucceſs, and deſiſted therefore from an open oppoſition to their ſentiments: he even affect⯑ed to enter into their views, and to ſupport them with his approbation and credit. By this artful evaſion he appeaſed the tumult, and made them eaſy; and they choſe him and ſome other officers for their deputies. Cyrus, whom [348] he had ſecretly appriſed of every thing, made anſwer, that he was going to attack Abro⯑comas, his enemy, at twelve days march from thence upon the Euphrates. When this an⯑ſwer was repeated to them, though they plain⯑ly ſaw againſt whom they were going, they re⯑ſolved to proceed, and only demanded an aug⯑mentation of their pay. Cyrus, inſtead of one daric a month to each ſoldier, promiſed to give them one and a half. Still to ingratiate himſelf the more, being told that two officers had deſerted from the army, and being adviſ⯑ed to purſue and put them to death, he de⯑clared publicly, that it ſhould never be ſaid he had detained any one perſon in his ſervice againſt his will; and he ordered their wives and children, who were left as hoſtages in his army, to be ſent after them. A conduct ſo wiſe, and apparently generous, had a ſurpriſ⯑ing effect in conciliating the affections of the ſoldiery, and made even thoſe his firm adhe⯑rents who were before inclined to retire.

As Cyrus advanced by long marches, he was informed from all parts, that the king did not intend to come directly to a battle, but had re⯑ſolved to wait in the remoteſt parts of Perſia till all his forces were aſſembled; and that, to ſtop his enemies, he had ordered an intrench⯑ment [349] to be thrown up on the plains of Babylon, with a ditch of five fathoms broad, and three deep, extending the ſpace of twelve paraſangs, or leagues, from the Euphrates to the wall of Media. Between the Euphrates and the ditch, a way had been left of twenty feet in breadth, by which Cyrus paſſed with his whole army, having reviewed it the day before. The king had neglected to diſpute this paſs with him, and ſuffered him to continue his march towards Babylon.

Cyrus ſtill continued to proceed, giving Clearches the command of the right Grecian wing, and Menon that of the left, ſtill march⯑ing in order of battle, expecting every hour to engage; at length he diſcovered his bro⯑ther's army, conſiſting of twelve hundred thouſand men, beſides a ſelect body of ſix thouſand horſe, approaching and preparing to engage.

The place where the battle was fought was called Cunara, about twenty-five leagues from Babylon. Cyrus getting on horſeback, with his javelin in his hand, gave orders to the troops to ſtand to their arms, and proceed in order of battle. The enemy, in the mean time, advanced ſlowly, in good order. Arta⯑xerxes led them on regularly with a ſlow pace, [350] without noiſe or confuſion. That good order and exact diſcipline extremely ſurpriſed the Greeks, who expected to ſee much luxury and tumult in ſo great a multitude, and to hear confuſed cries, as Cyrus had foretold them.

The armies were not diſtant above four or five hundred paces, when the Greeks began to ſing the hymn of battle, and to march on ſoftly at firſt, and with ſilence. When they came near the enemy, they ſet up great cries, ſtrik⯑ing their darts upon their ſhields to frighten the horſe; and then moving all together, they ſprung forwards upon the barbarians with all their force, who did not wait their charge, but took to their heels and fled univerſally, ex⯑cept Tiſſaphernes, who ſtood his ground with a ſmall part of his troops.

Cyrus ſaw with pleaſure the enemy routed by the Greeks, and was proclaimed king by thoſe around him: but he did not give himſelf up to a vain joy, nor as yet reckoned himſelf victor. He perceived that Artaxerxes was wheeling his right to attack him in flank, and marched directly againſt him with his ſix hun⯑dred horſe. He killed Artagerſes, who com⯑manded the king's guard of ſix thouſand horſe, with his own hand, and put the whole body to flight. Diſcovering his brother, he cried out [351] with his eyes ſparkling with rage, I ſee him, and ſpurred againſt him, followed only by his principal officers, for his troops had quitted their ranks to follow the run-aways, which was an eſſential fault.

The battle then became a ſingle combat in ſome meaſure between Artaxerxes and Cyrus, and the two brothers were ſeen tranſported with rage and fury, endeavouring like Eteocles and Polynices to plunge their ſwords into each others hearts, and to aſſure themſelves of the throne by the death of their rival.

Cyrus having opened his way through thoſe who were drawn up in battle before Artaxerxes, joined him, and killed his horſe, that fell with him to the ground: he roſe, and was re⯑mounted upon another, when Cyrus attacked him again, gave him a ſecond wound, and was preparing to give him a third, in hopes that it would prove his laſt. The king, like a lion wounded by the huntſman, was only the more furious from the ſmart, and ſprung for⯑wards, impetuouſly puſhing his horſe againſt Cyrus, who running headlong, and without regard to his perſon, threw himſelf into the midſt of a flight of darts aimed at him from all ſides, and received a wound from the king's javelin at the inſtant that all the reſt diſcharged [352] upon him. Cyrus fell dead; ſome ſay by the wound given him by the king, others affirm that he was killed by a Carian ſoldier. The greateſt perſons of his court reſolving not to ſurvive ſo good a maſter, were all killed around his body; a certain proof, ſays Xenophon, that he well knew how to chuſe his friends, and that he was truly beloved by them. Ariae⯑us, who ought to have been the firmeſt of all his adherents, fled with the left wing as ſoon as he heard of his death.

Artaxerxes, after having cauſed the head and right hand of his brother to be cut off by the eunuch Meſabates, purſued the enemy into their camp. Ariaeus had not ſtopped there, but having paſſed through it, continued his retreat to the place where the army had en⯑camped the day before, which was about four leagues diſtant.

Tiſſaphernes, after the defeat of the greateſt part of his leſt wing by the Greeks, led on the reſt againſt them, and, by the ſide of the river, paſſed through the light armed infantry of the Greeks, who opened to give him a paſſage, and made their diſcharges upon him as he paſſ⯑ed, without loſing a man. They were com⯑manded by Epiſthenes of Amphipolis, who was eſteemed an able captain. Tiſſaphernes [353] kept on without returning to the charge, be⯑cauſe he perceived he was too weak, and went forward to Cyrus's camp, where he found the king, who was plundering it, but had not been able to force the quarter defended by the Greeks, who ſaved their baggage.

The Greeks on their ſide, and Artaxerxes on his, who did not know what had paſſed elſewhere, believed each of them that they had gained the victory; the firſt, becauſe they had put the enemy to flight, and purſued them; and the king, becauſe he had killed his brother, beat the troops he had fought, and plundered their camp. The event was ſoon cleared up on both ſides. Tiſſaphernes, upon his arrival at the camp, informed the king, that the Greeks had defeated his left wing, and purſued it with great vigour; and the Greeks, on their ſide, learnt, that the king in purſuing Cyrus's left had penetrated into the camp. Upon this advice the king rallied his troops, and marched in queſt of the enemy; and Clearchus being returned from purſuing the Perſians, advanced to ſupport the camp.

The two armies were ſoon very near each other, when, by a movement made by the [354] king, he ſeemed to intend to charge the Greeks on their left, who fearing to be ſurrounded on all ſides, wheeled about and halted, with the river on their backs, to prevent their being taken in the rear. Upon ſeeing that, the king changed his form of battle alſo, drew up his army in front of them, and marched on to the attack. As ſoon as the Greeks ſaw him ap⯑proach, they began to ſing the hymn of battle, and advanced againſt the enemy even with more ardour than in the firſt action.

The barbarians again began to fly, running farther than before, and were purſued to a village at the foot of a hill, upon which their horſe halted. The king's ſtandard was ob⯑ſerved to be there, which was a golden eagle upon the top of a pike, having its wings diſ⯑played. The Greeks preparing to purſue them, they abandoned alſo the hill, fled pre⯑cipitately with all their troops broke, and in the utmoſt diſorder and confuſion. Clearchus having drawn up the Greeks at the bottom of the hill, ordered Lycias, the Syracuſan, and another, to go up it and obſerve what paſſed in the plain. They returned with an ac⯑count that the enemies fled on all ſides, and that their whole army was routed.

[355] As it was almoſt night, the Greeks laid down their arms to reſt themſelves, much ſurpriſed that neither Cyrus, nor any one from him appear⯑ed; and imagining, that he was either engag⯑ed in the purſuit of the enemy, or was making haſte to poſſeſs himſelf of ſome important place, for they were ſtill ignorant of his death, and the defeat of the reſt of his army; they determined, to return to their camp, and found the greateſt part of the baggage taken, with all the proviſions, and four hun⯑dred waggons laden with corn and wine, which Cyrus had expreſsly cauſed to be carried along with the army for the Greeks, in caſe of any preſſing neceſſity. They paſſed the night in the camp, the greateſt part of them without any refreſhment, concluding that Cyrus was alive and victorious.

Amidſt the confuſion the Grecians were in after the battle, they ſent to Ariaeus, as con⯑queror and commander in chief, upon Cyrus's death, to offer him the Perſian crown. In the mean time, the king, as conqueror, alſo on his ſide, ſent to them to ſurrender their arms, and implore his mercy, repreſenting to them, at the ſame time, that as they were in the heart of his dominions, ſurrounded with vaſt rivers, and numberleſs nations, it would [356] be impoſſible for them to eſcape his venge⯑ance; and, therefore, they had nothing to do but to ſubmit to the preſent neceſſity. Upon debating among themſelves what anſwer they ſhould return, Proxenus deſired to know of the heralds upon what terms the king demand⯑ed their arms: if, as conqueror, it was in his power to take them; if upon any other footing, what would he give them in return. He was ſeconded by Xenophon, who ſaid, they had nothing left but their arms and their liberty, and that they could not preſerve the one with⯑out the other. Clearchus ſaid to the ſame effect, that if the king was diſpoſed to be their friend, they ſhould be in a better capa⯑city of ſerving him with arms than without; if their enemy, they ſhould have need of them for their defence. Some indeed ſpoke in terms more complying; that as they had ſerved Cy⯑rus faithfully, they would alſo ſerve Artaxerxes, if he would employ them, and provided he would, at the ſame time, put them in poſſeſ⯑ſion of Egypt. At laſt it was agreed, they ſhould remain in the place where they were; and that if they advanced farther, or retreated back, it ſhould be looked upon as a declara⯑tion of war: ſo that by the iſſue of the debate, it appeared to have been managed ſo as to [357] avoid giving a direct anſwer, but only to amuſe the king and gain time.

Whilſt this treaty was on foot, they receiv⯑ed Ariaeus's anſwer, that there were too many powerful men in Perſia to let him poſſeſs the throne; wherefore he intended to ſet out early the next morning on his return to Greece; and that, if they had a mind to accompany him, they ſhould join him that night in his camp: which accordingly they all did, except Mil⯑thocytus, a Thracian, who went with a party of three hundred men and forty horſe to the king. The reſt, in conjunction with Ariaeus's forces, decamped by break of day, and con⯑tinued their march until ſun-ſet, when they diſcovered from the neighbouring villages that the king was in purſuit of them.

Clearchus, who now undertook to conduct the Greeks, ordered his troops to halt, and prepared for an engagement. The king of Per⯑ſia terrified by ſo bold an appearance, ſent he⯑ralds not to demand their ſurrender, but to propoſe terms of peace and treaty. When Clearchus was informed of their arrival, he gave orders to bid them wait, and to tell them that he was not yet at leiſure to hear them. He aſſumed purpoſely an air of haughtineſs and [358] grandeur, to denote his intrepidity, and, at the ſame time, to ſhew the fine appearance and good condition of his phalanx. When he advanced with the moſt ſhewy of his officers, expreſsly choſen for the occaſion, and had heard what the heralds had to propoſe; he made anſwer, that they muſt begin with giv⯑ing battle, becauſe the army being in want of proviſions had no time to loſe. The heralds having carried back this anſwer to their maſter, returned immediately, which ſhewed that the king, or whoever ſpoke in his name, was not very far diſtant. They ſaid they had orders to conduct them to villages where they would find proviſions in abundance, and conducted them thither accordingly.

After three days ſtay Tiſſaphernes arrived from the king, and inſinuated to them the good offices he had employed for their ſafety. Clearchus in his own defence urged, that they were engaged in this expedition without know⯑ing the enemy againſt whom they were to con⯑tend; that they were free from all engage⯑ments, and had no deſign againſt the Perſian king, unleſs he oppoſed their return. Tiſſa⯑phernes ſeemingly granted their deſire, and promiſed that they ſhould be furniſhed with all [359] neceſſary proviſions in their march; and to confirm their ſecurity, that he himſelf would be their companion on the way.

Accordingly, in a few days after they ſet out under his conduct; but, in their march, the barbarians encamping at about a league's diſtance from the Grecians, created ſome little diſtruſts and jealouſies on both ſides. In about fifty days, being got to the banks of the river Zabatus, Clearchus, to prevent things coming to an open rupture, had a conference with Tiſſaphernes. The reſult of their diſcourſe was, that they had been miſrepreſented to each other by ſome of Clearchus's officers; and that he ſhould bring them all to Tiſſaphernes, in order to detect thoſe who were guilty. In con⯑ſequence of this, it was agreed between them that there ſhould be a general conſultation of officers, in which thoſe who had been remiſs, or attempted to ſow any diſſenſions between the two armies, ſhould be expoſed and puniſh⯑ed. Menon, in particular, was ſuſpected on both ſides, and he was appointed among the number. In conſequence of this fatal reſolu⯑tion, the five principal generals attended the ſucceeding day at the Perſian general's tent. Their names were, Clearchus, Menon, Prox⯑enes, Agias, and Socrates; they, on a ſignal [360] given, were immediately ſeized, their attend⯑ants put to the ſword, and themſelves, after being ſent bound to the king, were beheaded in his preſence.

Nothing could exceed the conſternation of the Greeks when they were informed of the maſſacre of their generals: they were now near two thouſand miles from home, ſurrounded with great rivers, extenſive deſarts, and inimical nations, without any ſupplies of proviſions. In this ſtate of general dejection, they could think of taking neither nouriſhment nor repoſe; all now turned their eyes upon Xenophon, a young Athenian, who had been invited into Aſia by Proxences, and had hitherto ſerved as a volun⯑teer in the army: this was that Xenophon af⯑terwards ſo famous as an hiſtorian; and his conduct ſeemed equal to his eloquence, in which he ſurpaſſed all the reſt of mankind. This young general went to ſome of the Greek officers in the middle of the night, and repre⯑ſented to them that they had no time to loſe; that it was of the laſt importance to prevent the bad deſigns of the enemy; that, however ſmall their number, they would render themſelves formidable, if they behaved with boldneſs and reſolution; that valour, and not multitudes, determines the ſucceſs of arms; and that it [361] was neceſſary, above all things, to nominate generals immediately, becauſe an army with⯑out commanders is like a body without a ſoul. A council was immediately held, at which an hundred officers were preſent; and Xenophon being deſired to ſpeak, deduced the reaſons at large he had at firſt but lightly touched upon: and, by his advice, commanders were appoint⯑ed. They were, Timaſion for Clearchus, Xan⯑thicles for Socrates, Cleanor for Agis, Phile⯑ſius for Menon, and Xenophon for Proxenes.

Before the break of day they aſſembled the army. The generals made ſpeeches to animate the troops; and Xenophon, among the reſt. ‘"Fellow-ſoldiers, ſaid he, the loſs of ſo many brave men by vile treachery, and the being abandoned by our friends, is very deplorable; but we muſt not ſink under our misfortunes: and, if we cannot conquer, let us chuſe rather to periſh gloriouſly than to fall into the hands of barbarians, who would inflict upon us the greateſt miſeries; let us call to mind the glori⯑ous battles of Plataea, Thermopylae, Salamis, and the many others wherein our anceſtors, though with a ſmall number, have fought and defeated the innumerable armies of the Per⯑ſians, and thereby rendered the name alone of Greeks for ever formidable. It is to their [362] invincible valour we owe the honour we poſſeſs of acknowledging no maſters upon earth but the gods, nor any happineſs but what conſiſts with liberty. Thoſe gods, the avengers of perjury, and witneſſes of the enemy's treaſon, will be favourable to us; and, as they are at⯑tacked in the violation of treaties, and take pleaſure in humbling the proud, and exalting the low, they will alſo follow us to battle and combat for us. For the reſt, fellow-ſoldiers, as we have no refuge but in victory, which muſt be our hope, and will make us ample amends for whatever it coſts to attain it; I ſhould be⯑lieve, if it were your opinion, that for the making a more ready and leſs difficult retreat, it would be very proper to rid ourſelves of all the uſeleſs baggage, and to keep only what is abſolutely neceſſary in our march."’ All the ſoldiers that moment lifted up their hands, to ſignify their approbation and conſent to all that had been ſaid, and without loſs of time ſet fire to their tents and carriages; ſuch of them as had too much equipage, giving it others who had too little, and deſtroying the reſt.

Cheriſophus, the Spartan general, led the van, and Xenophon, with Tymaſion, brought up the rear. They bent their march towards [363] the heads of the great rivers, in order to paſs them where they were fordable. But they had made little way before they were followed by a party of the enemy's archers and ſlingers, commanded by Mithridates, which galled their rear, and wounded ſeveral of them, who be⯑ing heavy armed, and without cavalry, could make no reſiſtance. To prevent the like in⯑convenience, Xenophon furniſhed two hundred Rhodians with ſlings, and mounted fifty more of his men upon baggage-horſes; ſo that when Mithridates came up with them a ſecond time, and with a much greater body, he repulſed them with loſs, and made good his retreat with this handful of men, until he arrived near the city of Lariſſa, on the banks of the Tigris. From thence they marched to another deſolate city, called Mepſila, and about four leagues from that place Tiſſaphernes came up to them with his whole army in order of battle, but after ſeveral ſkirmiſhes was forced to retire. In a few days after he ſecured an eminence over which the Grecians were obliged to make their way, which Xenophon perceiving, took a detachment of the army, and with great dili⯑gence gained the top of a mountain which commanded that eminence, from whence he [364] eaſily diſlodged the enemy, and made good a paſſage for the reſt of his troops into the plain, where they found plenty of proviſions, though Tiſſaphernes had done what he could before to burn and deſtroy the country.

But ſtill they were under as great difficulties as ever, being bounded on the one hand by the Tigris, and on the other by inacceſſible mountains, inhabited by the Carduch, a fierce and warlike people; and who, Xenophon ſays, had cut off an army of ſix ſcore thouſand Perſians to a man, by reaſon of the difficulty of the ways. However, having no boats to croſs the river, and the paſſage through the mountains opening into the rich plains of Ar⯑menia, they reſolved to purſue their march that way. Theſe barbarians ſoon took the alarm, but not being prepared to meet the Greeks in a body, they poſſeſſed themſelves of the tops of the rocks and mountains, and from thence annoyed them with darts and great ſtones, which they threw down into the deſiles through which they paſſed, in which they were alſo attacked by ſeveral other parties; and though their loſs was not conſiderable, yet, what with ſtorms and famine, beſides ſeven tedious days march, and being continually forced to fight their [365] way, they underwent more fatigue and hard⯑ſhip than they had ſuffered from the Perſians during the whole expedition.

They found themſelves ſoon after expoſed to new dangers. Almoſt at the foot of the mountains, they came to a river two hundred feet in breadth, called Centrites, which ſtop⯑ped their march. They had to defend them⯑ſelves againſt the enemy, who purſued them in the rear, and the Armenians, the ſoldiers of the country, who defended the oppoſite ſide of the river. They attempted in vain to paſs it in a place where the water came up to their arm pits, and were carried away by the rapidity of the current, againſt which the weight of their arms made them unable to re⯑ſiſt. By good fortune they diſcovered another place not ſo deep, where ſome ſoldiers had ſeen the people of the country paſs. It required abundance of addreſs, diligence, and valour, to keep off the enemy on both ſides of them. The army, however, paſſed the river at length without much loſs.

They marched forwards with leſs interrup⯑tion, paſſed the ſource of the Tygris, and ar⯑rived at the little river Teleboa, which is very beautiful, and has many villages on its banks. Here began the weſtern Armenia, which was [366] governed by Tiribaſus, a ſatrap much beloved by the king, and who had the honour to help him to mount on horſeback when at the court. He offered to let the army paſs, and to ſuffer the ſoldiers to take all they wanted, upon condi⯑tion that they ſhould commit no ravages in their march; which propoſal was accepted and ratified on each ſide. Tiribaſus kept always a flying camp at a ſmall diſtance from the army. There fell a great quantity of ſnow, which gave the troops ſome inconvenience; and they learnt from a priſoner, that Tiribaſus had a de⯑ſign to attack the Greeks at a paſs of the mountains, in a defile through which they muſt neceſſarily march. They prevented him, by ſeizing that poſt, after having put the enemy to flight. After ſome days march through the deſart, they paſſed the Euphrates near its ſource, not having the water above their middles.

They ſuffered exceedingly afterwards from a north wind, which blew in their faces, and prevented reſpiration; ſo that it was thought neceſſary to ſacrifice to the wind, upon which it ſeemed to abate. They marched on in ſnow five or ſix feet deep, which killed ſeveral ſer⯑vants and beaſts of burden, beſides thirty ſol⯑diers. They made fires during the night, for [367] they found plenty of wood. All the next day they continued their march through the ſnow, when many of them, from the exceſs of hun⯑ger, followed with languor, or fainting, con⯑tinued lying upon the ground through weak⯑neſs and want of ſpirits: when ſomething had been given them to eat, they found them⯑ſelves relived, and continued their march.

After a march of ſeven days they arrived at the river Araxes, called alſo the Phaſus, which is about an hundred feet in breadth. Two days after they diſcovered the Phaſians, the Cha⯑lybes, and the T [...]ochians, who kept the paſs of the mountain to prevent their deſcending in⯑to the plain. They ſaw it was impoſſible to avoid coming to a battle with them, and re⯑ſolved to give it the ſame day. Xenophon, who had obſerved that the enemy defended on⯑ly the ordinary paſſage, and that the mountain was three leagues in extent, propoſed the ſend⯑ing a detachment to take poſſeſſion of the heights that commanded the enemy, which would not be difficult, as they might prevent all ſuſpicion of their deſign by a march in the night, and by making a falſe attack by the main road to amuſe the barbarians. This was accordingly executed, the enemy put to ſlight, and the paſs cleared. Thus, after twelve or [368] fifteen days march, they arrived at a very high mountain, called Tecqua, from whence they deſcried the ſea. The firſt who perceived it raiſed great ſhouts of joy for a conſiderable time, which made Xenophon imagine that the vanguard was attacked, and went with all haſte to ſupport it. As he approached nearer, the cry of the ſea! the ſea! was heard diſtinctly, and the alarm changed into joy and gaiety; and when they came to the top, nothing was heard but a confuſed noiſe of the whole army, crying out together, the ſea! the ſea! whilſt they could not refrain from tears, nor from embracing their generals and officers; and then, without waiting for orders, they heaped up a pile of ſtones, and erected a trophy with broken bucklers and other arms.

From thence they advanced to the moun⯑tains of Colchis, one of which was higher than the reſt, and of that the people of the country had poſſeſſed themſelves. The Greeks drew up in battle at the bottom of it to aſcend, for the acceſs was not impracticable. Xenophon did not judge it proper to march in line of battle, but by files, becauſe the ſoldiers could not keep their ranks from the inequality of the ground, that in ſome places were eaſy, in others difficult to climb, which might diſcourage [369] them. That advice was approved, and the army formed according to it. The heavy⯑armed troops amounted to fourſcore files, each conſiſting of about one hundred men; with eighteen hundred light-armed ſoldiers, divided in three bodies, one of which was poſted on the right, another on the left, and a third in the center. After having encouraged his troops, by repreſenting to them that this was the laſt obſtacle they had to ſurmount, and implored the aſſiſtance of the gods, the army began to aſcend the hill. The enemy were not able to ſupport their charge, and diſperſed. They paſſed the mountain, and encamped in villages, where they found proviſions in abund⯑ance.

A very ſtrange accident happened there to the army, which put them into great conſterna⯑tion; for the ſoldiers finding abundance of bee⯑hives in that place, and eating the honey, they were taken with violent vomiting and fluxes, attended with raving fits; ſo that thoſe who were leaſt ill ſeemed like drunken men, and the reſt either furiouſly mad or dying. The earth was ſtrewed with their bodies as after a defeat; however, none of them died, and the diſtemper ceaſed the next day, about the ſame hour it had taken them. The third or fourth [370] day the ſoldiers got up, but in the condition people are in after taking a violent medicine.

Two days after the army arrived near Tre⯑biſond, a Greek colony of Sinopians, ſituated upon the Euxine, or Black Sea, in the pro⯑vince of Colchis. Here they lay encamped for thirty days, and acquitted themſelves of the vows they had made to Jupiter, Hercules, and the other deities, to obtain an happy re⯑turn into their own country: they alſo cele⯑brated the games of horſe and foot races, wreſtling, boxing, the pancratium, the whole attended with the greateſt joy and ſolemnity. Here Xenophon formed a project of ſettling them in thoſe parts, and founding a Grecian colony, which was approved of by ſome; but his enemies repreſenting it to the army only as a more honourable way of abandoning them; and to the inhabitants as a deſign to ſubdue and enſlave the country, he was forced to give over that enterprize. However, the noiſe of it had this good effect, that the natives did what they could in a friendly manner to pro⯑cure their departure, adviſing them to go by ſea as the ſafeſt way, and furniſhed them with a ſufficient number of tranſports for that purpoſe.

[371] Accordingly they embarked with a fair wind, and the next day got into the harbour of Sinope, where Cheriſophus met them with ſome gallies; but inſtead of the money they had alſo expected from him, he only told them they ſhould be paid their arrears as ſoon as they got out of the Euxine ſea. But this anſwer occaſioned a great deal of murmuring and diſcontent among them; ſo that they re⯑ſolved to put themſelves under one general, deſiring Xenophon in the moſt preſſing and af⯑fectionate terms to accept of that command, which he modeſtly declined, and procured the choice to fall upon Cheriſophus. But he en⯑joyed it not above ſix or ſeven days; for no ſooner were they arrived at Heraclea, than the army depoſed him for refuſing to extort a ſum of money from the inhabitants of that city; which being a Grecian colony, Xenophon likewiſe refuſed to concern himſelf in that af⯑fair; ſo that the army being diſappointed in their hopes of plunder, fell into a mutiny, and divided into three bodies, after ſuffering a ſlight retreat. When divided from their bar⯑barian enemies, they were happily reunited and encamped at the port of Calpe, where they ſet⯑tled the command as before, ſubſtituting Neon in the room of Cheriſophus, who died here, [372] and making it death for any man hencefor⯑ward to propoſe the dividing of the army. But being ſtreightened for proviſions, they were forced to ſpread themſelves in the vallies, where Pharnabazus's horſe, being joined by the inhabitants, cut in pieces five hundred of them; the reſt eſcaping to a hill, were reſcued and brought off by Xenophon, who after this led them through a large foreſt, where Pharna⯑bazus had poſted his troops to oppoſe their paſſage; but they entirely defeated him, and purſued their march to Chryſopolis of Chal⯑cedon, having got a great deal of booty in their way, and from thence to Byzantium.

From thence he led them to Salmydeſſa, to ſerve Seuthes prince of Thrace, who had be⯑force ſollicited Xenophon by his envoys to bring troops to his aid, in order to his re-eſtabliſh⯑ment in his father's dominions, of which his enemies had deprived him. He had made Xenophon great promiſes for himſelf and his troops; but when he had done him the ſervice he wanted, he was ſo far from keeping his word, that he did not give them the pay agreed upon. Xenophon reproached him exceeding⯑ly with this breach of faith, imputing his per⯑fidy to his miniſter Heraclides, who thought to make his court to his maſter by ſaving him [373] a ſum of money at the expence of juſtice, faith, and honeſty, qualities which ought to be dearer than all others to a prince, as they contribute the moſt to his reputation, as well as to the ſucceſs of affairs, and the ſecurity of a ſtate. But that treacherous miniſter, who looked upon honour, probity, and juſtice as mere chimeras; and that there was nothing real but the poſſeſſion of much money, had no thoughts, in conſequence, but of enriching himſelf by any means whatſoever, and robbed his maſter firſt with impunity, and all his ſub⯑jects along with him. However, continued Xenophon, every wiſe man, eſpecially in au⯑thority and command, ought to regard juſ⯑tice, probity, and the faith of engagements as the moſt precious treaſure he can poſſeſs, and as an aſſured reſource and an infallible ſupport in all the events that can happen. Heraclides was the more in the wrong for acting in this manner with regard to the troops, as he was a native of Greece, and not a Thracian; but avarice had extinguiſhed all ſenſe of honour in him.

Whilſt the diſpute between Seuthes and Xenophon was warmeſt, Charminus and Poly⯑nices arrived as ambaſſadors from Lacedae⯑mon, and brought advice, that the republic [374] had declared war againſt Tiſſaphernes and Pharnabazus; that Thimbron had already embarked with the troops, and promiſed a darick a month to every ſoldier, two to each officer, and four to the colonels, who ſhould engage in the ſervice. Xenophon accepted the offer, and having obtained from Seuthes, by the mediation of the ambaſſadors, part of the pay due to him, he went by ſea to Lamp⯑ſacus with the army, which amounted at that time to almoſt ſix thouſand men. From thence he advanced to Pergamus, a city in the pro⯑vince of Troas. Having met near Parthenia, where ended the expedition of the Greeks, a great nobleman returning into Perſia, he took him, his wife and children, with all his equipage, and by that means found himſelf in a condi⯑tion to beſtow great liberalities amongſt the ſoldiers, and to make them a ſatisfactory a⯑mends for all the loſſes they had ſuſtained. Thimbron at length arrived, who took upon him the command of the troops, and having joined them with his own, marched againſt Tiſ⯑ſaphernes and Pharnabazus.

Such was the event of Cyrus's expedition. Xenophon reckons from the firſt ſetting out of that prince's army from the city of Epheſus to their arrival where the battle was fought, [375] five hundred and thirty paraſangas, or leagues, and fourſcore and thirteen days march; and in their return from the place of battle to Cotyora, a city upon the coaſt of the Euxine, or Black Sea, ſix hundred and twenty paraſangas, or leagues, and one hundred and twenty days march; and, adding both together, he ſays the way going and coming was eleven hundred and fifty-five paraſangas, or leagues, and two hundred and fifteen days march; and that the whole time the army took to perform that journey, including the days of reſt, was fifteen months.

This retreat of the ten thouſand Greeks has always paſſed among judges of the art of war as a moſt extraordinary undertaking, and it, in ſome meaſure, inſpired them ever after with a contempt for the power of the Perſians; it taught them, that their dominions could be invaded without danger, and that marching into Per⯑ſia was but purſuing an unreſiſting enemy, that only appeared to offer victory rather than battle.

In the mean time, while Greece was gaining fame in Perſia, Athens was loſing its honour at home: though it had now ſome breathing⯑time to recover from its late confuſions, yet ſtill there were the ſeeds of rancour remaining, [376] and the citizens oppoſed each other with unre⯑mitting malice. Socrates was the firſt object that fell a ſacrifice to theſe popular diſſen⯑ſions. We have already ſeen this great man, who was the ſon of an obſcure citizen at Athens, emerging from the meanneſs of his birth, and giving examples of courage, moderation, and wiſdom; we have ſeen him ſaving the life of Alcibiades in battle, of refuſing to concur in the edict which unjuſtly doomed the ſix Athenian generals to death, of withſtanding the thirty tyrants, and of ſpurning the bigotry and perſecution of the times with the moſt acute penetration, and the moſt cauſtic raillery; he poſſeſſed unexampled good-nature, and an univerſal love to mankind; he was ready to pity vices in others, while he was in a great meaſure free from them himſelf; however, he knew his own defects, and if he was proud of any thing, it was in the being thought to have none. He ſeemed, ſays Libanius, the common father of the republic, ſo attentive was he to the happineſs and advantage of his whole country. But as it is very difficult to correct the aged, and to make people change principles, who revere the errors in which they have grown grey, he devoted his labours principally to the inſtruction of youth, in or⯑der [377] to ſow the ſeeds of virtue in a ſoil more fit to produce the fruits of it. He had no open ſchool like the reſt of the philoſophers, nor ſet times for his leſſons; he had no benches pre⯑pared, nor ever mounted a profeſſor's chair; he was the philoſopher of all times and ſea⯑ſons; he taught in all places, and upon all oc⯑caſions, in walking, converſation at meals, in the army, and in the midſt of the camp, in the public aſſemblies of the ſenate or people. Such was the man whom a faction in the city had long devoted to deſtruction; he had been for many years before his death the object of their ſatire and ridicule. Ariſtophanes, the comic poet, was engaged to expoſe him upon the ſtage: he compoſed a piece called the Clouds, wherein he introduced the philoſopher in a baſket, uttering the moſt ridiculous ab⯑ſurdities. Socrates, who was preſent at the exhibition of his own character, ſeemed not to feel the leaſt emotion; and, as ſome ſtrangers were preſent who deſired to know the original for whom the play was intended, he roſe up from his ſeat, and ſhewed himſelf during the whole repreſentation. This was the firſt blow ſtruck at him, and it was not till twenty years after that Melitus appeared in a more formal man⯑ner as his accuſer, and entered a regular pro⯑ceſs [378] againſt him. His accuſation conſiſted of two heads; the firſt was, that he did not ad⯑mit the gods acknowledged by the republic, and introduced new divinities: the ſecond, that he corrupted the youth of Athens; and concluded with inferring that ſentence of death ought to paſs againſt him. How far the whole charge affected him is not eaſy to de⯑termine: it is certain, that amidſt ſo much zeal and ſuperſtition as then reigned in Athens, he never durſt openly oppoſe the received re⯑ligion, and was therefore ſorced to preſerve an outward ſhew of it; but it is very pro⯑bable, from the diſcourſes he frequently held with his friends, that in his heart he deſpiſed and laughed at their monſtrous opinions and ridiculous myſteries, as having no other foun⯑dation than the fables of the poets; and that he had attained to the notion of the one only true God, inſomuch, that upon the account both of his belief of the Deity, and the ex⯑emplarineſs of his life, ſome have thought fit to rank him with the Chriſtian philoſophers.

As ſoon as the conſpiracy broke out, the friends of Socrates prepared for his defence. Lycias, the muſt able orator of his time, brought him an elaborate diſcourſe of his compoſing, wherein he had ſet forth the rea⯑ſons [379] and meaſures of Socrates in their full force, and interſpered the whole with tender and pathetic ſtrokes, capable of moving the moſt obdurate hearts. Socrates read it with pleaſure, and approved it very much; but, as it was more conformable to the rules of rhe⯑toric, than the ſentiments and fortitude of a philoſopher, he told him frankly, that it did not ſuit him. Upon which Lycias having aſked how it was poſſible to be well done, and at the ſame time not ſuit him? In the ſame manner, ſaid he, uſing according to his cuſ⯑tom a vulgar compariſon, that an excellent workman might bring me magnificent apparel, or ſhoes embroidered with gold, to which no⯑thing would be wanting on his part, but which, however, would not fit me. He per⯑ſiſted, therefore, inflexibly in the reſolution not to demean himſelf by begging ſuffrages in the low abject manner common at that time. He employed neither artifice nor the glitter of eloquence; he had no recourſe either to ſollici⯑tation or entreaty; he brought neither his wife nor children to incline the judges in his favour by their ſighs and tears: nevertheleſs, though he firmly refuſed to make uſe of any other voice but his own in his defence, and to appear before his judges in the ſubmiſſive poſ⯑ture [380] of a ſuppliant, he did not behave in that manner out of pride or contempt of the tri⯑bunal; it was from a noble and intrepid aſ⯑ſurance, reſulting from greatneſs of ſoul, and the conſciouſneſs of his truth and innocence; ſo that his defence had nothing timorous or weak in it: his diſcourſe was bold, manly, ge⯑nerous, without paſſion, without emotion, full of the noble liberty of a philoſopher, with no other ornament than that of truth, and brightened univerſally with the character and language of innocence. Plato, who was pre⯑ſent, tranſcribed it afterwards, and without any additions, compoſed from it the work which he calls the Apology of Socrates, one of the moſt conſummate maſter-pieces of antiquity. I ſhall here make an extract from it.

Upon the day aſſigned, the proceedings commenced in the uſual forms; the parties appeared before the judges, and Melitus ſpoke: the worſe his cauſe, and the leſs pro⯑vided it was with proofs, the more occaſion he had for addreſs and art to cover its weak⯑neſs; he omitted nothing that might render the adverſe party odious; and, inſtead of rea⯑ſons which could not but fail him, he ſubſti⯑tuted the deluſive ſhine of a lively and pom⯑pous eloquence. Socrates, in obſerving, that [381] he could not tell what impreſſion the diſcourſe of his accuſers might make upon the judges, owns, that for his part, he ſcarce knew him⯑ſelf, they had given ſuch artful colouring and likelihood to their arguments, though there was not the leaſt word of truth in all they had advanced.

Socrates pronounced this diſcourſe with a firm and intrepid tone: his air, his action, his viſage, expreſſed nothing of the accuſed; he ſeemed the maſter of his judges, from the aſ⯑ſurance and greatneſs of ſoul with which he ſpoke, without however loſing any thing of the modeſty natural to him. But how ſlight ſoever the proofs were againſt him, the fac⯑tion was powerful enough to find him guilty. There was the form of a proceſs againſt him, and his irreligion was the pretence upon which it was grounded, but his death was certainly a concerted thing. His ſteady uninterrupted courſe of obſtinate virtue, which had made [388] him in many caſes appear ſingular, and oppoſe whatever he thought illegal or unjuſt, without any regard to times or perſons, had procured him a great deal of envy and ill will.

By his firſt ſentence the judges only declar⯑ed Socrates guilty; but when, by his anſwer, he appeared to appeal from their tribunal to that of juſtice and poſterity; when, inſtead of confeſſing himſelf guilty, he demanded re⯑wards and honours from the ſtate, the judges were ſo very much offended, that they con⯑demned him to drink hemlock, a method of execution then in uſe amongſt them.

Socrates received this ſentence with the ut⯑moſt compoſure. Apollodorus, one of his diſciples, launching out into bitter invectives and lamentations that his maſter ſhould die innocent: ‘"What," replied Socrates, with a ſmile, "would you have had me die guilty? Melitus and Anytus may kill, but they can⯑not hurt me."’

After his ſentence he ſtill continued with the ſame ſerene and intrepid aſpect with which he had long enforced virtue, and held tyrants in awe; when he entered his priſon, which now became the reſidence of virtue and pro⯑bity, his friends followed him thither, and continued to viſit him during the interval be⯑tween [389] his condemnation and death, which laſted for thirty days. The cauſe of that long delay was, the Athenians ſent every year a ſhip to the iſle of Delos, to offer certain ſacri⯑fices, and it was prohibited to put any perſon to death in the city from the time the prieſt of Apollo had crowned the poop of this veſſel as a ſignal of its departure, till the ſame veſſel ſhould return; ſo that ſentence having been paſſed upon Socrates the day after that cere⯑mony began, it was neceſſary to defer the execution of it for thirty days, during the con⯑tinuance of this voyage.

In this long interval, death had ſufficient opportunities to preſent itſelf before his eyes in all its terrors, and to put his conſtancy to the proof, not only by the ſevere rigour of a dungeon, and the irons upon his legs, but by the continual proſpect and cruel expectation of an event of which nature is always abhorrent. In this ſad condition he did not ceaſe to enjoy that profound tranquility of mind which his friends had always admired in him. He en⯑tertained them with the ſame temper he had always expreſſed; and Crito obſerves, that the evening before his death, he ſlept as peaceably as at any other time. He compoſ⯑ed alſo an hymn in honour of Apollo and [390] Diana, and turned one of Aeſop's fables into verſe.

The day before, or the ſame day that the ſhip was to arrive from Delos, the return of which was to be followed by the death of So⯑crates, Crito, his intimate friend, came to him early in the morning to let him know that bad news; and, at the ſame time, that it de⯑pended only upon himſelf to quit the priſon; that the jailor was gained; that he would find the doors open, and offered him a ſafe retreat in Theſſaly. Socrates laughed at this propo⯑ſal, and aſked him, whither he knew any place out of Attica where people did not die? Cri⯑to urged the thing very ſeriouſly, and preſſed him to take the advantage of ſo precious an opportunity, adding argument upon argu⯑ment, to induce his conſent, and to engage him to reſolve upon his eſcape: without men⯑tioning the inconſolable grief he ſhould ſuffer for the death of ſuch a friend, how ſhould he ſupport the reproaches of an infinity of people, who would believe that it was in his power to have ſaved him, but that he would not ſacrifice a ſmall part of his wealth for that purpoſe: can the people ever be perſuaded that ſo wiſe a man as Socrates would not quit his priſon when he might do it with all poſſible ſecurity? [391] Perhaps he might fear to expoſe his friends, or to occaſion the loſs of their fortunes, or even of their lives or liberty: ought there to be any thing more dear and precious to them than the preſervation of Socrates? Even ſtrangers themſelves diſpute that honour with them, many of whom have come expreſsly with conſiderable ſums of money to purchaſe his eſcape, and declare, that they ſhould think themſelves highly honoured to receive him amongſt them, and to ſupply him abun⯑dantly with all he ſhould have occaſion for: ought he to abandon himſelf to enemies who have occaſioned his being condemned unjuſtly, and can he think it allowable to betray his own cauſe? It is not eſſential to his goodneſs and juſtice to ſpare his fellow-citizens the guilt of innocent blood: but if all theſe motives cannot alter him, and he is not concerned in regard to himſelf, can he be inſenſible to the in⯑tereſts of his children? In what a condition does he leave them; and can he forget the fa⯑ther to remember only the philoſopher?

Socrates, after having heard him with atten⯑tion, praiſed his zeal, and expreſſed his gratitude; but before he could give into his opinion, was for examining whether it was juſt for him to depart out of priſon without the conſent of the Athe⯑nians. [392] The queſtion therefore here is, to know whether a man condemned to die, though unjuſtly, can without a crime eſcape from juſtice and the laws. Socrates held that it was unjuſt; and, therefore, nobly refuſed to eſcape from priſon. He reverenced the laws of his country, and reſolved to obey them in all things, even in his death.

At length the fatal ſhip returned to Athens, which was in a manner the ſignal for the death of Socrates. The next day all his friends, except Plato, who was ſick, repaired to the priſon early in the morning. The jailor de⯑ſired them to wait a little, becauſe the eleven magiſtrates (who had the direction of the pri⯑ſons) were at that time ſignifying to the pri⯑ſoner that he was to die the ſame day. Pre⯑ſently after they entered, and found Socrates, whoſe chains had been taken off, ſitting by Xantippe, his wife, who held one of his children in her arms; as ſoon as ſhe per⯑ceived them, ſetting up great cries, ſobbing, and tearing her face and hair, ſhe made the priſon reſound with her complaints; Oh, my dear Socrates! your friends are come to ſee you this day for the laſt time! He deſired ſhe might be taken away, and ſhe was imme⯑diately carried home.

[393] Socrates paſſed the reſt of the day with his friends, and diſcourſed with them with his uſual chearfulneſs and tranquility. The ſub⯑ject of converſation was the moſt important, but adapted to the preſent conjuncture; that is to ſay, the immortality of the ſoul. What gave occaſion to this diſcourſe was, a queſtion introduced in a manner by chance, Whether a true philoſopher ought not to de⯑ſire, and take pains to die? This propoſition taken too literally, implied an opinion, that a philoſopher might kill himſelf. Socrates ſhews that nothing is more unjuſt than this notion; and, that man appertaining to God, who formed and placed him with his own hand in the poſt he poſſeſſes, cannot abandon it without his permiſſion, nor depart from life without his order. What is it then that can induce a philoſopher to entertain this love for death? It can be only the hope of that happi⯑neſs which he expects in another life; and that hope can be founded only upon the opinion of the ſoul's immortality.

Socrates employed the laſt day of his life in entertaining his friends upon this great and important ſubject; from which converſation, Plato's admirable dialogue, intitled the Phae⯑don, is wholly taken. He explains to his [394] friends all the arguments for believing the ſoul immortal, and refutes all the objections againſt it, which are very near the ſame as are made at this day.

When Socrates had done ſpeaking, Crito deſired him to give him, and the reſt of his friends, his laſt inſtructions in regard to his children and other affairs, that by executing them they might have the conſolation of doing him ſome pleaſure. I ſhall recommend no⯑thing to you this day, replied Socrates, more than I have already done, which is, to take care of yourſelves. You cannot do yourſelves a greater ſervice, nor do me and my family a greater pleaſure. Crito having aſked him af⯑terwards in what manner he thought fit to be buried? As you pleaſe, ſaid Socrates, if you can lay hold of me, and I not eſcape out of your hands. At the ſame time, looking on his friends with a ſmile, I can never perſuade Crito, that Socrates is he who converſes with you, and diſpoſes the ſeveral parts of his diſ⯑courſe, for he always imagines that I am what he is going to ſee dead in a little while; he confounds me with my carcaſe, and therefore aſks me how I would be interred. In finiſh⯑ing theſe words, he roſe up, and went to bathe himſelf in a chamber adjoining. After he [395] came out of the bath, his children were brought to him, for he had three, two very little, and the other grown up. He ſpoke to them for ſome time, gave his orders to the women who took care of them, and then diſ⯑miſſed them. Being returned into his cham⯑ber, he laid himſelf down upon his bed.

The ſervant of the eleven entered at the ſame inſtant, and having informed him that the time for drinking the hemlock was come, (which was at ſun-ſet) the ſervant was ſo much afflicted with ſorrow, that he turned his back and fell a-weeping. See, ſaid Socrates, the good heart of this man, ſince my impri⯑ſonment he has often come to ſee me, and to converſe with me; he is more worthy than all his fellows: how heartily the poor man weeps for me. This is a remarkable example, and might teach thoſe in an office of this kind how they ought to behave to all priſoners, but more eſpecially to perſons of merit, when they are ſo unhappy to fall into their hands. The fatal cup was brought. Socrates aſked what it was neceſſary for him to do? Nothing more, replied the ſervant, than as ſoon as you have drank off the draught, to walk about till you find your legs grow weary, and afterwards lie down upon your bed. He took the cup with⯑out [396] any emotion, or change in his colour or countenance; and regarding the man with a ſteady and aſſured look: ‘"Well, ſaid he, what ſay you of this drink; may one make a liba⯑tion out of it?"’ Upon being told that there was only enough for one doſe: ‘"At leaſt, con⯑tinued he, we may ſay our prayers to the gods, as it is our duty, and implore them to make our exit from this world, and our laſt ſtage happy, which is what I moſt ardently beg of them."’ After having ſpoke theſe words, he kept ſilence for ſome time, and then drank off the whole draught with an amazing tran⯑quillity and ſerenity of aſpect not to be ex⯑preſſed or conceived.

Till then his friends, with great violence to themſelves, had refrained from tears, but af⯑ter he had drank the potion, they were no longer their own maſters, and wept abundant⯑ly. Apollodorus, who had been in tears during almoſt the whole converſation, began then to raiſe great cries, and to lament with ſuch exceſſive grief, as pierced the hearts of all that were preſent. Socrates alone remained unmoved, and even reproved his friends, tho' with his uſual mildneſs and good nature. ‘"What are you doing? ſaid he to them. I ad⯑mire at you! Oh! what is become of your [397] virtue? Was it not for this I ſent away the women, that they might not fall into theſe weakneſſes; for I have always heard ſay that we ought to die peaceably, and bleſſing the gods. Be at eaſe, I beg you, and ſhew more conſtancy and reſolution."’ He then obliged them to reſtrain their tears.

In the mean time, he kept walking to and fro; and when he found his legs grow weary, he laid down upon his back, as he had been directed.

The poiſon then operated more and more. When Socrates ſound it began to gain up⯑on the heart, uncovering his face, which had been covered, without doubt to prevent any thing from diſturbing him in his laſt moments, ‘"Crito, ſaid he, we owe a cock to Aeſculapius; diſcharge that vow for me, and pray do not forget it."’ Soon after which he breathed his laſt. Crito went to his body, and cloſed his mouth and eyes. Such was the end of So⯑crates, in the firſt year of the ninety-fifth Olympiad, and the ſeventieth of his age.

It was not till ſome time after the death of this great man, that the people of Athens per⯑ceived their miſtake, and began to repent of it; their hatred being ſatisfied, their preju⯑dices [398] expired, and time having given them an opportunity for reflection, the notorious in⯑juſtice of the ſentence appeared in all its hor⯑rors. Nothing was heard throughout the city but diſcourſes in favour of Socrates. The Academy, the Lycaeum, private houſes, public walks, and market places, ſeemed ſtill to re⯑echo the ſound of his loved voice. ‘"Here, ſaid they, he formed our youth, and taught our children to love their country, and to honour their parents. In this place he gave us his ad⯑mirable leſſons, and ſometimes made us ſea⯑ſonable reproaches, to engage us more warmly in the purſuit of virtue. Alas! how have we rewarded him for ſuch important ſervices?"’ Athens was in univerſal mourning and con⯑ſternation. The ſchools were ſhut up, and all exerciſes ſuſpended. The accuſers were call⯑ed to account for the innocent blood they had cauſed to be ſhed. Melitus was condemned to die, and the reſt baniſhed. Plutarch obſerves, that all thoſe who had any ſhare in this black calumny were in ſuch abomination amongſt the citizens, that no one would give them fire, anſwer them any queſtion, nor go into the ſame bath with them, and had the place cleaned where they had had bathed, leſt [399] they ſhould be polluted by touching it, which drove them into ſuch deſpair, that many of them killed themſelves.

The Athenians, not contented with having puniſhed his accuſers, cauſed a ſtatue of braſs to be erected to him, of the workmanſhip of the celebrated Lyſippus, and placed it in one of the moſt conſpicuous parts of the city. Their reſpect and gratitude roſe even to a reli⯑gious veneration; they dedicated a chapel to him, as to a hero and a demi-god, which they called the Chapel of Socrates.