No More Learning

Then he came to inquire of the oracle of God. And he of the golden hair from his sweet-incensed shrine spake unto him of a sailing of ships that should be from the shore of Lerna unto a pasture ringed with sea, where sometime the great king of gods rained on the city golden snow, what time by Hephais- tos' handicraft beneath the bronze-wrought ax from the crown of her father's head Athene leapt to light and cried aloud with an exceeding cry ; and Heaven trembled at her coming, and Earth, the Mother.
Then also the god who giveth light to men, Hyperion, bade his beloved sons see that they guard the payment of the debt, that they should build first for the goddess an altar in the sight of all men, and laying thereon a holy offering they should make glad the hearts of the father and of his daughter of the sound ing spear. Now Reverence, Forethought's child, putteth valor and the joy of battle into the hearts of men ; yet withal there cometh upon them bafflingly the cloud of forgetfulness and maketh the mind to swerve from the straight path of action. For they though they had brands burning yet kindled not the seed of flame, but with fireless rites they made a grove on the hill of the citadel. For them Zeus brought a yellow cloud into the sky and rained much gold upon the land ; and Glaukopis herself gave them to excel the dwellers upon earth in every art of handicraft. For on their roads ran the semblances of beasts and creeping things : whereof they have great glory, for to him that hath knowledge the subtlety that is without deceit is the greater altogether. [That is, probably, without magic, or the pretense of being anything but machines. This is considered an allusion to the Telchines who lived before the Heliadai in
Rhodes, and were magicians as well as craftsmen. ]
Now the ancient story of men saith that when Zeus and the other gods made division of the earth among them, not yet was
island Rhodes apparent in the open sea, but in the briny depths lay hid. And for that Helios was otherwhere, none drew a lot for him ; so they left him portionless of land, that holy god. And when he spake thereof Zeus would cast lots afresh ; but he suffered him not, for that he said that beneath the hoary sea he saw a certain land waxing from its root in earth, that should
340 ODES OF PINDAR.
bring forth food for many men, and rejoice in flocks. And straightway he bade her of the golden fillet, Lachesis, to stretch her hands on high, nor violate the gods' great oath, but with the son of Kronos promise him that the isle sent up to the light of heaven should be thenceforth a title of himself alone.
And in the end of the matter his speech had fulfillment ; there sprang up from the watery main an island, and the father who begetteth the keen rays of day hath the dominion thereof, even the lord of fire-breathing steeds. There sometime having lain with Rhodos he begat seven sons, who had of him minds wiser than any among the men of old ; and one begat Kameiros, and Ialysos his eldest, and Lindos : and they held each apart their shares of cities, making threefold division of their father's land, and these men call their dwelling places. There is a sweet amends for his piteous ill hap ordained for Tlepolemos, leader of the Tirynthians at the beginning, as for a god, even the lead ing thither of sheep for a savory burnt offering, and the award of honor in games. [That is, he presides over the celebration of games, as tutelar hero of the island. ]
Of garlands from these games hath Diagoras twice won him crowns, and four times he had good luck at famous Isthmos and twice following at Nemea, and twice at rocky Athens. And at Argos the bronze shield knoweth him, and the deeds of Arcadia and of Thebes and the yearly games Boeotian, and Pellene and Aigina where six times he won; and the pillar of stone at Megara hath the same tale to tell.
But do thou, O Father Zeus, who holdest sway on the moun tain ridges of Atabyrios glorify the accustomed Olympian win ner's hymn, and the man who hath done valiantly with his fists : give him honor at the hands of citizens and of strangers ; for he walketh in the straight way that abhorreth insolence, having learnt well the lessons his true soul hath taught him, which hath come to him from his noble sires. Darken not thou the light of one who springeth from the same stock of Kallianax. Surely with the joys of Eratidai the whole city maketh mirth. But the varying breezes even at the same point of time speed each upon their various ways.
ODES OF PINDAR.
(Translated by J. A. Symonds. ) The Twelfth Pythian.
To thee, fairest of earthly towns, I pray — Thou splendor-lover, throne of Proserpine, Piled o'er Girgenti's slopes, that feed alway
Fat sheep ! — with grace of gods and men incline, Great queen, to take this Pythian crown and own
Midas ; for he of all the Greeks, thy son,
Hath triumphed in the art which Pallas won, Weaving of fierce Gorgonian throats the dolorous moan.
She from the snake-encircled hideous head Of maidens heard the wailful dirges flow,
What time the third of those fell Sisters bled
By Perseus' hand, who brought the destined woe
To vexed Seriphos. He on Phorkys' brood Wrought ruin, and on Polydectes laid
Stern penance for his mother's servitude,
And for her forceful wedlock, when he slew the maid
Medusa. He by living gold, they say, Was got on Danae : but Pallas bore
Her hero through those toils, and wrought the lay Of full-voiced flutes to mock the ghastly roar
Of those strong jaws of grim Euryale :
A goddess made and gave to men the flute,
The fountainhead of many a strain to be,
That ne'er at game or nation's feast it might be mute,
Sounding through subtle brass and voiceful reeds, Which near the city of the Graces spring
By fair Cephisus, faithful to the needs
Of dancers. Lo ! there cometh no good thing
Apart from toils to mortals, though to-day
Heaven crown their deeds : yet shun we not the laws Of Fate ; for times impend when chance withdraws
What most we hoped, and what we hoped not gives for aye.
342 THE GREATNESS OP ATHENS.
THE GREATNESS OF ATHENS. By THUCTDIDES.
[ThnctDiDES, the ablest of ancient historians, was born near Athens, proba bly b. c. 471; a sufferer in and survivor of the great plague. As a general, he was condemned to death, in B. C. 424, during the Peloponnesian War, — probably with active agency of Cleon, — for failure to prevent the Spartan Brasidas from capturing Amphipolis. (Grote thinks him much to blame ; Jowett, that as he had the telling of his own story, he could have made out a good case for himself if he had thought it necessary. ) He remained in exile twenty years and wrote his still matchless history of that war — his one literary work ; perfecting it by much travel and close topographical study of many important points, and by interviews with those of most authority. ]
(From the — probably in the main imaginary — Funeral Speech of Pericles: translated by Benjamin Jowett. )
I will speak first of our ancestors ; for it is right and becoming that now, when we are lamenting the dead, a tribute should be paid to their memory. There has never been a time when they did not inhabit this land, which by their valor they have handed down from generation to generation, and we have received from them a free state. But if they were worthy of praise, still more were our fathers who added to their inherit ance, and after many a struggle transmitted to us, their sons, this great empire. And we ourselves assembled here to-day, who are still most of us in the vigor of life, have chiefly done the work of improvement, and have richly endowed our city with all things, so that she is sufficient for herself both in peace and war. Of the military exploits by which our various pos sessions were acquired, or oi the energy with which we or our fathers drove back the tide of war, Hellenic or Barbarian, I will not speak ; for the tale would be long and is familiar to
youB. utbeforeIpraisethedead,Ishouldliketopointoutby what principles of action we rose to power, and under what in stitutions and through what manner of life our empire became great. For I conceive that such thoughts are not unsuited to the occasion, and that this numerous assembly of citizens and strangers may profitably listen to them.
Our form of government does not enter into rivalry with the institutions of others. We do not copy our neighbors, but are an example to them. It is true that we are called a democ racy, for the administration is in the hands of the many and
Athens.
THE GREATNESS OF ATHENS.
343
not of the few. But while the law secures equal justice to all alike in their private disputes, the claim of excellence is also recognized ; and when a citizen is in any way distinguished, he is preferred to the public service, not as a matter of privilege, but as the reward of merit. Neither is poverty a bar, but a man may benefit his country whatever be the obscurity of his condition.
There is no exclusiveness in our public life, and in our private intercourse we are not suspicious of one another, nor angry with our neighbor if he does what he likes ; we do not put on sour looks at him, which, though harmless, are not pleasant. While we are thus unconstrained in our private intercourse, a spirit of reverence pervades our public acts ; we are prevented from doing wrong by respect for authority and for the laws, having an especial regard to those which are ordained for the protection of the injured as well as to those unwritten laws which bring upon the transgressor of them the reprobation of the general sentiment.
And we have not forgotten to provide for our weary spirits many relaxations from toil ; we have regular games and sac rifices throughout the year ; at home the style of our life is refined; and the delight which we daily feel in all these things helps to banish melancholy. Because of the greatness of our city the fruits of the whole earth flow in upon us ; so that we enjoy the goods of other countries as freely as of our own.
Then, again, our military training is in many respects superior to that of our adversaries. Our city is thrown open to the world ; and we never expel a foreigner, or prevent him from seeing or learning anything of which the secret if revealed to an enemy might profit him. We rely not upon management or trickery, but upon our own hearts and hands. And in the matter of education, whereas they from early youth are always undergoing laborious exercises which are to make them brave, we live at ease, and yet are equally ready to face the perils which they face.
And here is the proof. The Lacedemonians come into Attica not by themselves, but with their whole confederacy following ; we go alone into a neighbor's country ; and al though our opponents are fighting for their homes and we on a foreign soil, we have seldom any difficulty in overcoming them. Our enemies have never yet felt our united strength ;
344 THE GREATNESS OF ATHENS.
the care of a navy divides our attention, and on land we are obliged to send our own citizens everywhere. But they, if they meet and defeat a part of our army, are as proud as if they had routed us all, and when defeated they pretend to have been vanquished by us all.
If, then, we prefer to meet danger with a light heart but without laborious training, and with a courage which is gained by habit and not enforced by law, are we not greatly the gainers? Since we do not anticipate the pain, although, when the hour comes, we can be as brave as those who never allow themselves to rest ; and thus too our city is equally admirable in peace and in war. For we are lovers of the beautiful, yet simple in our tastes, and we cultivate the mind without loss of manliness. Wealth we employ, not for talk and ostentation, but when there is a real use for it. To avow poverty with us is no disgrace : the true disgrace is in doing nothing to avoid it.
An Athenian citizen does not neglect the state because he takes care of his own household ; and even those of us who are engaged in business have a very fair idea of politics. We alone regard a man who takes no interest in public affairs, not as a harmless, but as a useless, character ; and if few of us are originators, we are all sound judges of a policy. The great impediment to action is, in our opinion, not discussion, but the want of that knowledge which is gained by discussion preparatory to action. For we have a peculiar power of think ing before we act and of acting too, whereas other men are courageous from ignorance but hesitate upon reflection. And they are surely to be esteemed the bravest spirits who, having the clearest sense both of the pains and pleasures of life, do not on that account shrink from danger.
In doing good, again, we are unlike others ; we make our friends by conferring, not by receiving, favors. Now he who confers a favor is the firmer friend, because he would fain by kindness keep alive the memory of an obligation ; but the recipient is colder in his feelings, because he knows that in requiting another's generosity he will not be winning grati tude, but only paying a debt. We alone do good to our neighbors not upon a calculation of interest, but in the con fidence of freedom and in a frank and fearless spirit.
I say that Athens is the school of Hellas, and
To sum up :
that the individual Athenian in his own person seems to have
ATHENE. 345
the power of adapting himself to the most varied forms of action with the utmost versatility and grace. This is no pass ing and idle word, but truth and fact ; and the assertion is verified by the position to which these qualities have raised the state. For in the hour of trial Athens alone among her con temporaries is superior to the report of her. No enemy who comes against her is indignant at the reverses which he sus tains at the hands of such a city ; no subject complains that his masters are unworthy of him.
And we shall assuredly not be without witnesses ; there are mighty monuments of our power which will make us the wonder of this and of succeeding ages ; we shall not need the praises of Homer or of any other panegyrist whose poetry may please for the moment, although his representation of the facts will not bear the light of day. For we have compelled every land and every sea to open a path for our valor, and have everywhere planted eternal memorials of our friendship and of our enmity. Such is the city for whose sake these men nobly fought and died ; they could not bear the thought that she might be taken from them; and every one of us who survive should gladly toil on her behalf.
ATHENE.
By Sir LEWIS MORRIS.
[Sib Lewis Morris : English poet ; born at Carmarthen, Wales, 1832. Until 1881 his profession was the law ; in 1887 he became secretary of Uni versity College, Wales. The descendant of several generations of Welsh bards, he has published three series of "Songs of Two Worlds" (1871, 1874, 1875), "The Epic of Hades" (1876), "Guen" (1879), "The Vision of Saints " (1890). His poems have been recently collected. ]
While Istood Expectant, lo ! a fair pale form drew near
With front severe, and wide blue eyes which bore Mild wisdom in their gaze. Great purity
Shone from her — not the young-eyed innocence Of her whom first I
saw, but that which comes From wider knowledge, which restrains the tide Of passionate youth, and leads the musing soul
By the calm deeps of Wisdom. And I knew
ATHENE.
My eyes had seen the fair, the virgin Queen, Who once within her shining Parthenon Beheld the sages kneeL
She with clear voice And coldly sweet, yet with a softness too,
As doth befit a virgin : — " She does right
To boast her sway, my sister, seeing indeed
That all things are as by a double law,
And from a double root the tree of Life
Springs up to the face of heaven. Body and Soul, Matter and Spirit, lower joys of Sense
And higher joys of Thought, I know that both
Build up the shrine of Being. The brute sense
Leaves man a brute ; but, winged with soaring thought, Mounts to high heaven. The unembodied spirit, Dwelling alone, unmated, void of sense,
Is impotent. And yet I hold there is,
Far off, but not too far for mortal reach,
A calmer height, where, nearer to the stars,
Thought sits alone and gazes with rapt gaze,
A large-eyed maiden in a robe of white,
Who brings the light of Knowledge down, and draws To her pontifical eyes a bridge of gold,
Which spans from earth to heaven.
For what were life, If things of sense were all, for those large souls
And high, which grudging Nature has shut fast
Within unlovely forms, or those from whom The circuit of the rapid gliding years
Steals the brief gift of beauty ? Shall we hold, With idle singers, all the treasure of hope
Is lost with youth — swift-fleeting, treacherous youth, Which fades and flies before the ripening brain
Crowns life with Wisdom's crown ? Nay, even in youth, Is it not more to walk upon the heights
Alone — the cold free heights — and mark the vale Lie breathless in the glare, or hidden and blurred
By cloud and storm ; or pestilence and war
Creep on with blood and death ; while the soul dwells Apart upon the peaks, outfronts the sun
As the eagle does, and takes the coming dawn While all the vale is dark, and knows the springs Of tiny rivulets hurrying from the snows,
ATHENE.
Which soon shall swell to vast resistless floods, And feed the Oceans which divide the World ?
"Oh ecstasy! oh, wonder! oh, delight!
Which neither the slow-withering wear of Time, Which takes all else — the smooth and rounded cheek Of youth ; the lightsome step ; the warm young heart Which beats for love or friend; the treasure of hope Immeasurable ; the quick coursing blood
Which makes it joy to be, — aye, takes them all
And leaves us naught —nor yet satiety
Born of too full possession, takes or mars !
Oh, fair delight of learning ! which grows great
And stronger and more keen, for slower limbs,
And dimmer eyes and loneliness, and loss
Of lower good — wealth, friendship, aye, and Love — When the swift soul, turning its weary gaze
From the old vanished joys, projects itself
Into the void and floats in empty space,
Striving to reach the mystic source of Things,
The secrets of the earth and sea and air,
The Law that holds the process of the suns,
The awful depths of Mind and Thought ; the prime Unfathomable mystery of God !
" Is there, then, any who holds my worship cold And lifeless ? Nay, but 'tis the light which cheers The waning life ! Love thou thy love, brave youth ! Cleave to thy love, fair maid ! it is the Law
Which dominates the world, that bids ye use
Your nature ; but when now the fuller tide
Slackens a little, turn your calmer eyes
To the fair page of Knowledge. It is power
I give, and power is precious. It is strength
To live four-square, careless of outward shows,
And self-sufficing. It is clearer sight
To know the rule of life, the Eternal scheme ;
And, knowing to do and not to err,
And, doing, to be blest. "
it,
348
GREECE BEFORE ITS NEW BIRTH.
GREECE BEFORE ITS NEW BIRTH. By LORD BYRON.
[For biographical sketch, see p. 197. ]
Ancient of days ! august Athena ! where,
Where are thy men of might ? thy grand in soul ?
Gone — glimmering through the dream of things that were : First in the race that led to Glory's goal,
They won, and passed away — is this the whole ?
A schoolboy's tale, the wonder of an hour ! The warrior's weapon and the sophist's stole
Are sought in vain, and o'er each moldering tower,
Dim with the mist of years, gray flits the shade of power.
Here let me sit upon this massy stone,
The marble column's yet unshaken base ;
Here, son of Saturn ! was thy fav'rite throne : Mightiest of many such ! Hence let me trace The latent grandeur of thy dwelling place.
It may not be : nor even can Fancy's eye Restore what Time hath labored to deface.
Yet these proud pillars claim no passing sigh ; Unmoved the Moslem sits, the light Greek carols by.
Fair Greece ! sad relic of departed worth !
Immortal, though no more ; though fallen, great !
Who now shall lead thy scattered children forth, And long-accustomed bondage uncreate ?
Not such thy sons who whilom did await,
The hopeless warriors of a willing doom, — In bleak Thermopylae's sepulchral strait
Oh ! who that gallant spirit shall resume,
Leap from Eurotas' banks, and call thee from the tomb ?
Spirit of freedom ! when on Phyle's brow Thou sat'st with Thrasybulus and his train,
Couldst thou forebode the dismal hour which now Dims the green beauties of thine Attic plain ? Not thirty tyrants now enforce the chain,
But every carle can lord it o'er thy land ; Nor rise thy sons, but idly rail in vain,
Trembling beneath the scourge of Turkish hand,
From birth till death enslaved ; in word, in deed, unmanned.
GREECE BEFORE ITS NEW BIRTH.
In all save form alone, how changed ! and who That marks the fire still sparkling in each eye,
Who but would deem their bosoms burned anew With thy unquenched beam, lost Liberty ! And many dream withal the hour is nigh
That gives them back their fathers' heritage: For foreign arms and aid they fondly sigh,
Nor solely dare encounter hostile rage,
Or tear their name defiled from Slavery's mournful page.
Hereditary bondmen ! know ye not
Who would be free, themselves must strike the blow ?
By their right arms the conquest must be wrought ? Will Gaul or Muscovite redress ye ? no !
True, they may lay your proud despoilers low,
But not for you will freedom's altars flame. Shades of the Helots ! triumph o'er your foe !
Greece ! change thy lords, thy state is still the same ; Thy glorious day is o'er, but not thine years of shame.
The city won for Allah from the Giaour,
The Giaour from Othman's race again may wrest ;
And the Serai's impenetrable tower
Receive the fiery Frank, her former guest ; Or Wahab's rebel brood who dared divest
The prophet's tomb of all its pious spoil,
May wind their path of blood along the West;
But ne'er will freedom seek this fated soil,
But slave succeed to slave through years of endless toiL
When riseth Lacedemon's hardihood, When Thebes Epaminondas rears again,
When Athens' children are with hearts endued, When Grecian mothers shall give birth to men, Then may'st thou be restored ; but not till then.
A thousand years scarce serve to form a state ; An hour may lay it in the dust : and when
Can man its shattered splendor renovate,
Recall its virtues back, and vanquish Time and Fate ?
And yet how lovely in thine age of woe,
Land of lost gods and godlike men, art thou !
Thy vales of evergreen, thy hills of snow, Proclaim thee Nature's varied favorite now ; Thy fanes, thy temples to thy surface bow,
GREECE BEFORE ITS NEW BIRTH.
Commingling slowly with heroic earth, Broke by the share of every rustic plow :
So perish monuments of mortal birth,
So perish all in turn, save well-recorded Worth :
Save where some solitary column mourns Above its prostrate brethren of the cave ;
Save where Tritonia's airy shrine adorns Colonna's cliff, and gleams along the wave ; Save o'er some warrior's half-forgotten grave,
Where the gray stones and unmolested grass Ages, but not oblivion, feebly brave,
While strangers only not regardless pass, " " Lingering like me, perchance, to gaze, and sigh Alas !
Yet are thy skies as blue, thy crags as wild,
Sweet are thy groves, and verdant are thy fields,
Thine olive ripe as when Minerva smiled,
And still his honeyed wealth Hymettus yields ; There the blithe bee his fragrant fortress builds,
The freeborn wanderer of thy mountain air ; Apollo still thy long, long summer gilds,
Still in his beam Mendeli's marbles glare ; Art, Glory, Freedom fail, but Nature still is fair.
Where'er we tread, 'tis haunted, holy ground ; No earth of thine is lost in vulgar mold,
But one vast realm of wonder spreads around, And all the Muse's tales seem truly told, Till the sense aches with gazing to behold
The scenes our earliest dreams have dwelt upon : Each hill and dale, each deepening glen and wold
Defies the power which crushed thy temples gone : Age shakes Athena's tower, but spares gray Marathon.
The sun, the soil, but not the slave, the same ; Unchanged in all except its foreign lord —
Preserves alike its bounds and boundless fame, The Battle-field, where Persia's victim horde First bowed beneath the brunt of Hellas' sword,
As on the morn to distant Glory dear, When Marathon became a magic word ; Which uttered, to the hearer's eye appear
The camp, the host, the fight, the conqueror's career.
DESTRUCTION OF THE ATHENIANS AT SYRACUSE. 351
The flying Mede, his shaftless broken bow ; The fiery Greek, his red pursuing spear ;
Mountains above, Earth's, Ocean's plain below ; Death in the front, Destruction in the rear !
Such was the scene — what now remaineth here ?
What sacred trophy marks the hallowed ground, Recording Freedom's smile and Asia's tear ?
The rifled urn, the violated mound,
The dust thy courser's hoof, rude stranger ! spurns around.
Yet to the remnants of thy splendor past
Shall pilgrims, pensive but unwearied, throng ;
Long shall the voyager, with the Ionian blast, Hail the bright clime of battle and of song ; Long shall thine annals and immortal tongue
Fill with thy fame the youth of many a shore : Boast of the aged ! lesson of the young !
Which sages venerate and bards adore,
As Pallas and the Muse unveil their awful lore.
THE DESTRUCTION OF THE ATHENIANS AT SYRACUSE.
By THUCYDIDES. (Translated by Benjamin Jowett. )
Demosthenes, Menander, and Euthydemus, who had gone on board the Athenian fleet to take the command, now quitted their own station, and proceeded straight to the closed mouth of the harbor, intending to force their way to the open sea where a passage was still left.
The Syracusans and their allies had already put out with nearly the same number of ships as before. A detachment of them guarded the entrance of the harbor ; the remainder were disposed all round it in such a manner that they might fall on the Athenians from every side at once, and that their land forces might at the same time be able to cooperate wherever the ships retreated to the shore. Sicanus and Agatharchus com manded the Syracusan fleet, each of them a wing ; Pythen and the Corinthians occupied the center. When the Athenians approached the closed mouth of the harbor the violence of their
352 DESTRUCTION OF THE ATHENIANS AT SYRACUSE.
onset overpowered the ships which were stationed there ; they then attempted to loosen the fastenings. Whereupon from all sides the Syracusans and their allies came bearing down upon them, and the conflict was no longer confined to the entrance, but extended throughout the harbor. No previous engagement had been so fierce and obstinate. Great was the eagerness with which the rowers on both sides rushed upon their enemies whenever the word of command was given ; and keen was the contest between the pilots as they maneuvered one against another. The marines too were full of anxiety that, when ship struck ship, the service on deck should not fall short of the rest ; every one in the place assigned to him was eager to be foremost among his fellows. Many vessels meeting — and never did so many fight in so small a space, for the two fleets together amounted to nearly two hundred — they were seldom able to strike in the regular manner, because they had no opportunity of first retiring or breaking the line ; they generally fouled one another as ship dashed against ship in the hurry of flight or pursuit.
All the time that another vessel was bearing down, the men on deck poured showers of javelins and arrows and stones upon the enemy ; and when the two closed, the marines fought hand to hand, and endeavored to board. In many places, owing to the want of room, they who had struck another found that they were struck themselves : often two or even more vessels were unavoidably entangled about one, and the pilots had to make plans of attack and defense, not against one adversary only, but against several coming from different sides. The crash of so many ships dashing one against another took away the wits of the sailors, and made it impossible to hear the boatswains, whose voices in both fleets rose high, as they gave directions to the rowers, or cheered them on in the excitement of the struggle. On the Athenian side they were shouting to their men that they must force a passage and seize the opportu nity now or never of returning in safety to their native land. To the Syracusans and their allies was represented the glory of preventing the escape of their enemies, and of a victory by which every man would exalt the honor of his own city. The commanders too, when they saw any ship backing water with out necessity, would call the captain by his name, and ask, of the Athenians, whether they were retreating because they expected to be more at home upon the land of their bitterest foes than upon that sea which had been their own so long ; on
DESTRUCTION OF THE ATHENIANS AT SYRACUSE. 353
the Syracusan side, whether, when they knew perfectly well that the Athenians were only eager to find some means of flight, they would themselves fly from the fugitives.
While the naval engagement hung in the balance, the two armies on shore had great trial and conflict of soul. The Sicilian soldier was animated by the hope of increasing the glory which he had already won, while the invader was tor mented by the fear that his fortunes might sink lower still. The last chance of the Athenians lay in their ships, and their anxiety was dreadful. The fortune of the battle varied ; and it was not possible that the spectators on the shore should all receive the same impression of it. Being quite close, and hav ing different points of view, they would some of them see their own ships victorious ; their courage would then revive and they would earnestly call upon the gods not to take from them their hope of deliverance. But others, who saw their ships worsted, cried and shrieked aloud, and were by the sight alone more utterly unnerved than the defeated combatants themselves. Others again, who had fixed their gaze on some part of the struggle which was undecided, were in a state of excitement still more terrible ; they kept swaying their bodies to and fro in an agony of hope and fear as the stubborn conflict went on and on ; for at every instant they were all but saved or all but lost. And while the strife hung in the balance you might hear in the Athenian army at once lamentation, shouting, cries of victory or defeat, and all the various sounds which are wrung from a great host in extremity of danger. Not less agonizing were the feelings of those on board. At length the Syracusans and their allies, after a protracted struggle, put the Athenians to flight, and triumphantly bearing down upon them, and encouraging one another with loud cries and exhortations, drove them to land. Then that part of the navy which had not been taken in the deep water fell back in confusion to the shore, and the crews rushed out of the ships into the camp. And the land forces, no longer now divided in feeling, but uttering one universal groan of intolerable anguish, ran, some of them to save the ships, others to defend what remained of the wall ; but the greater number began to look to themselves and to their own safety. Never had there been a greater panic in an Athenian army than at that moment. They now suffered what they had done to others at Pylos. For at Pylos the
Lacedaemonians, "when they saw their ships destroyed, knew vol. in. —23
354 DESTRUCTION OF THE ATHENIANS AT SYRACUSE.
that their friends who had crossed over into the island of Sphac- teria were lost with them. And so now the Athenians, after the rout of their fleet, knew that they had no hope of saving themselves by land unless events took some extraordinary turn.
Thus, after a fierce battle and a great destruction of ships and men on both sides, the Syracusans and their allies gained the victory. They gathered up the wrecks and bodies of the dead, and sailing back to the city, erected a trophy. The Athenians, overwhelmed by their misery, never so much as thought of recovering their wrecks or of asking leave to collect their dead. Their intention was to retreat that very night. Demosthenes came to Nicias and proposed that they should once more man their remaining vessels and endeavor to force the passage at daybreak, saying that they had more ships fit for service than the enemy. For the Athenian fleet still numbered sixty, but the enemy had less than fifty. Nicias approved of his proposal, and they would have manned the ships, but the sailors refused to embark ; for they were paralyzed by their defeat, and had no longer any hope of succeeding. So the Athenians all made up their minds to escape by land.
Hermocrates the Syracusan suspected their intention, and dreading what might happen if their vast army, retreating by land and settling somewhere in Sicily, should choose to renew the war, he went to the authorities, and represented to them that they ought not to allow the Athenians to withdraw by night (mentioning his own suspicion of their intentions), but that all the Syracusans and their allies should march out before them, wall up the roads, and occupy the passes with a guard. They thought very much as he did, and wanted to carry out his plan, but doubted whether their men, who were too glad to repose after a great battle, and in time of festival — for there happened on that very day to be a sacrifice to Heracles — could be induced to obey. Most of them, in the exultation of victory, were drinking and keeping holiday, and at such a time how could they ever be expected to take up arms and go forth at the order of the generals ? On these grounds the authorities decided that the thing was impossible. Whereupon Hermocrates himself, fearing lest the Athenians should gain a start and quietly pass the most difficult places in the night, contrived the follow ing plan : when it was growing dark he sent certain of his own acquaintances, accompanied by a few horsemen, to the Athenian camp. They rode up within earshot, and pretending to be friends
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(there were known to be men in the city who gave information to Nicias of what went on) called to some of the soldiers, and bade them tell him not to withdraw his army during the night, for the Syracusans were guarding the roads ; he should make preparation at leisure and retire by day. Having delivered their message they departed, and those who had heard them informed the Athenian generals.
On receiving this message, which they supposed to be genu ine, they remained during the night. And having once given up the intention of starting immediately, they decided to re main during the next day, that the soldiers might, as well as they could, put together their baggage in the most convenient form, and depart, taking with them the bare necessaries of life, but nothing else.
Meanwhile the Syracusans and Gylippus, going forth before them with their land forces, blocked the roads in the country by which the Athenians were likely to pass, guarded the fords of the rivers and streams, and posted themselves at the best points for receiving and stopping them. Their sailors rowed up to the beach and dragged away the Athenian ships. The Athenians themselves burnt a few of them, as they had intended, but the rest the Syracusans towed away, unmolested and at their leisure, from the places where they had severally run aground, and conveyed them to the city.
On the third day after the sea fight, when Nicias and Demosthenes thought that their preparations were complete, the army began to move. They were in a dreadful condition ; not only was there the great fact that they had lost their whole fleet, and instead of their expected triumph had brought the utmost peril upon Athens as well as upon themselves, but also the sights which presented themselves as they quitted the camp were painful to every eye and mind. The dead were unburied, and when any one saw the body of a friend lying on the ground he was smitten with sorrow and dread, while the sick or wounded who still survived but had to be left were even a greater trial to the living, and more to be pitied than those who were gone. Their prayers and lamentations drove their companions to dis traction ; they would beg that they might be taken with them, and call by name any friend or relation whom they saw pass ing ; they would hang upon their departing comrades and follow as far as they could, and when their limbs and strength failed them and they dropped behind many were the impreca
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tions and cries which they uttered. So that the whole army was in tears, and such was their despair that they could hardly make up their minds to stir, although they were leaving an enemy's country, having suffered calamities too great for tears already, and dreading miseries yet greater in the unknown future. There was also a general feeling of shame and self- reproach, — indeed they seemed, not like an army, but like the fugitive population of a city captured after a siege ; and of a great city too. For the whole multitude who were marching together numbered not less than forty thousand. Each of them took with him anything he could carry which was likely to be of use. Even the heavy-armed and cavalry, contrary to their practice when under arms, conveyed about their persons their own food, some because they had no attendants, others because they could not trust them ; for they had long been deserting, and most of them had gone off all at once. Nor was the food which they carried sufficient ; for the supplies of the camp had failed. Their disgrace and the universality of the misery, although there might be some consolation in the very community of suffering, was nevertheless at that moment hard to bear, especially when they remembered from what pomp and splendor they had fallen into their present low estate. Never had an Hellenic army experienced such a reverse. They had come intending to enslave others, and they were going away in fear lest they would be themselves enslaved. Instead of the prayers and hymns with which they had put to sea, they were now departing amid appeals to heaven of another sort. They were no longer sailors but landsmen, depending, not upon their fleet, but upon their infantry. Yet in face of the great danger which still threatened them all these things appeared endurable.
Nicias, seeing the army disheartened at their terrible fall, went along the ranks and encouraged and consoled them as well as he could. In his fervor he raised his voice as he passed from one to another and spoke louder and louder, desir ing that the benefit of his words might reach as far as possible.
" Even now, Athenians and allies, we must hope : men have been delivered out of worse straits than these, and I would not have you judge yourselves too severely on account either of the reverses which you have sustained or of your present unde served miseries. I too am as weak as any of you ; for I am quite prostrated by my disease, as you see. And although
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there was a time when I might have been thought equal to the best of you in the happiness of my private and public life, I am now in as great danger, and as much at the mercy of for tune as the meanest. Yet my days have been passed in the performance of many a religious duty, and of many a just and blameless action. Therefore my hope of the future remains unshaken, and our calamities do not appall me as they might. Who knows that they may not be lightened ? For our ene mies have had their full share of success, and if our expedition provoked the jealousy of any God, by this time we have been punished enough. Others ere now have attacked their neigh bors ; they have done as men will do, and suffered what men can bear. We may therefore begin to hope that the Gods will be more merciful to us ; for we now invite their pity rather than their jealousy. And look at your own well-armed ranks ; see how many brave soldiers you are, marching in solid array, and do not be dismayed ; bear in mind that wherever you plant yourselves you are a city already, and that no city of Sicily will find it easy to resist your attack, or can dislodge you if you choose to settle. Provide for the safety and good order of your own march, and remember every one of you that on whatever spot a man is compelled to fight, there if he con quer he may find a home and a fortress. We must press for ward day and night, for our supplies are but scanty. The Sicels, through fear of the Syracusans, still adhere to us, and if we can only reach any part of their territory we shall be among friends, and you may consider yourselves secure. We have sent to them, and they have been told to meet us and bring food. In a word, soldiers, let me tell you that you must be brave ; there is no place near to which a coward can fly. And if you now escape your enemies, those of you who are not Athenians may see once more the home for which they long, while you Athenians will again rear aloft the fallen greatness of Athens. For men, and not walls or ships in which are no men, constitute a state. "
Thus exhorting his troops Nicias passed through the army, and wherever he saw gaps in the ranks or the men dropping out of line, he brought them back to their proper place. Demosthenes did the same for the troops under his command, and gave them similar exhortations. The army marched dis posed in a hollow oblong : the division of Nicias leading, and that of Demosthenes following; the hoplites inclosed within
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their ranks the baggage bearers and the rest of the army. When they arrived at the ford of the river Anapus they found a force of the Syracusans and of their allies drawn up to meet them ; these they put to flight, and getting command of the ford, proceeded on their march. The Syracusans oontinually harassed them, the cavalry riding alongside, and the light- armed troops hurling darts at them. On this day the Athe nians proceeded about four and a half miles and encamped at a hill. On the next day they started early, and, having advanced more than two miles, descended into a level plain, and encamped. The country was inhabited, and they were desirous of obtaining food from the houses, and also water which they might carry with them, as there was little to be had for many miles in the country which lay before them. Meanwhile the Syracusans had gone on before them, and at a point where the road ascends a steep hill called the Acraean height, and there is a precipitous ravine on either side, were blocking up the pass by a wall. On the next day the Athe nians advanced, although again impeded by the numbers of the enemy's cavalry who rode alongside, and of their javelin men who threw darts at them. For a long time the Athenians maintained the struggle, but at last retired to their own encampment. Their supplies were now cut off, because the horsemen circumscribed their movements.
In the morning they started early and resumed their march. They pressed onwards to the hill where the way was barred, and found in front of them the Syracusan infantry drawn up to defend the wall, in deep array, for the pass was narrow. Whereupon the Athenians advanced and assaulted the barrier ; but the enemy, who were numerous and had the advantage of position, threw missiles upon them from the hill, which was steep, and so, not being able to force their way, they again retired and rested. During the conflict, as is often the case in the fall of the year, there came on a storm of rain and thun der, whereby the Athenians were yet more disheartened, for they thought that everything was conspiring to their destruc tion. While they were resting, Gylippus and the Syracusans dispatched a division of their army to raise a wall behind them across the road by which they had come ; but the Athenians sent some of their own troops and frustrated their intention. They then retired with their whole army in the direction of the plain and passed the night. On the following day they
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again advanced. The Syracusans now surrounded and attacked them on every side, and wounded many of them. If the Athe nians advanced they retreated, but charged them when they retired, falling especially upon the hindermost of them, in the hope that, if they could put to flight a few at a time, they might strike a panic into the whole army. In this fashion the Athenians struggled on for a long time, and having advanced about three quarters of a mile rested in the plain. The Syra cusans then left them and returned to their own encampment.
The army was now in a miserable plight, being in want of every necessary ; and by the continual assaults of the enemy great numbers of the soldiers had been wounded. Nicias and Demosthenes, perceiving their condition, resolved during the night to light as many watch fires as possible and to lead off their forces. They intended to take another route and march towards the sea in the direction opposite to that from which the Syracusans were watching them. Now their whole line of march lay, not towards Catana, but towards the other side of Sicily, in the direction of Camarina and Gela, and the cities, Hellenic or Barbarian, of that region. So they lighted numer ous fires and departed in the night. And then, as constantly happens in armies, especially in very great ones, and as might be expected when they were marching by night in an enemy's country, and with the enemy from whom they were flying not far off, there arose a panic among them, and they fell into con fusion. The army of Nicias, which led the way, kept together, and was considerably in advance, but that of Demosthenes, which was the larger half, got severed from the other division, and marched in less order. At daybreak they succeeded in reaching the sea, and striking into the Helorine road marched along it, intending as soon as they arrived at the river Cacy- paris to follow up the stream through the interior of the island. They were expecting that the Sicels for whom they had sent would meet them on this road. When they had reached the river they found there also a guard of the Syra cusans cutting off the passage by a wall and palisade.
forced their way through, and crossing the river, passed on towards another river which is called the Erineus, this being the direction in which their guides led them.
When daylight broke and the Syracusans and their allies saw that the Athenians had departed, most of them thought that Gylippus had let them go on purpose, and were very
They
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angry with him. They easily found the line of their retreat, and quickly following, came up with them about the time of the midday meal. The troops of Demosthenes were last ; they were marching slowly and in disorder, not having recovered from the panic of the previous night, when they were over taken by the Syracusans, who immediately fell upon them and fought. Separated as they were from the others, they were easily hemmed in by the Syracusan cavalry and driven into a narrow space. The division of Nicias was as much as six miles in advance, for he marched faster, thinking that their safety depended at such a time, not in remaining and fighting, if they could avoid it, but in retreating as quickly as they could, and resisting only when they were positively compelled. Demosthenes, on the other hand, who had been more inces santly harassed throughout the retreat, because marching last he was first attacked by the enemy, now, when he saw the Syracusans pursuing him, instead of pressing onward, had ranged his army in order of battle. Thus lingering he was surrounded, and he and the Athenians under his command were in the greatest danger and confusion. For they were crushed into a walled inclosure, having a road on both sides and planted thickly with olive trees, and missiles were hurled at them from all points. The Syracusans naturally preferred this mode of attack to a regular engagement. For to risk themselves against desperate men would have been only play ing into the hands of the Athenians. Moreover, every one was sparing of his life ; their good fortune was already assured, and they did not want to fall in the hour of victory. Even by this irregular mode of fighting they thought that they could overpower and capture the Athenians.
And so when they had gone on all day assailing them with missiles from every quarter, and saw that they were quite worn out with their wounds and all their other sufferings, Gylippus and the Syracusans made a proclamation, first of all to the islanders, that any of them who pleased might come over to them and have their freedom. But only a few cities accepted the offer. At length an agreement was made for the entire force under Demosthenes. Their arms were to be surrendered, but no one was to suffer death, either from violence or from imprisonment, or from want of the bare means of life. So they all surrendered, being in number six thousand, and gave up what money they had. This they threw into the hollows of
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shields and filled four. The captives were at once taken to the city. On the same day Nicias and his division reached the river Erineus, which he crossed, and halted his army on a rising ground.
On the following day he was overtaken by the Syracusans, who told him that Demosthenes had surrendered, and bade him do the same. He, not believing them, procured a truce while he sent a horseman to go and see. Upon the return of the horseman bringing assurance of the fact, he sent a herald to Gylippus and the Syracusans, saying that he would agree, on behalf of the Athenian state, to pay the expenses which the Syracusans had incurred in the war, on condition that they should let his army go ; until the money was paid he would give Athenian citizens as hostages, a man for a talent. Gylip pus and the Syracusans would not accept these proposals, but attacked and surrounded this division of the army as well as the other, and hurled missiles at them from every side until the evening. They, too, were grievously in want of food and necessaries. Nevertheless they meant to wait for the dead of the night and then to proceed. They were just resuming their arms, when the Syracusans discovered them and raised the Paean. The Athenians, perceiving that they were detected, laid down their arms again, with the exception of about three hundred men who broke through the enemy's guard and made their escape in the darkness as best they could.
When the day dawned Nicias led forward his army, and the Syracusans and the allies again assailed them on every side, hurling javelins and other missiles at them. The Athenians hurried on to the river Assinarus. They hoped to gain a little relief if they forded the river, for the mass of horsemen and other troops overwhelmed and crushed them ; and they were worn out by fatigue and thirst. But no sooner did they reach the water than they lost all order and rushed in ; every man was trying to cross first, and, the enemy pressing upon them at the same time, the passage of the river became hopeless. Being compelled to keep close together they fell one upon another, and trampled each other under foot : some at once perished, pierced by their own spears ; others got entangled in the bag gage and were carried down the stream. The Syracusans stood upon the further bank of the river, which was steep, and hurled missiles from above on the Athenians, who were huddled together in the deep bed of the stream and for the most part were drink
862 DESTRUCTION OF THE ATHENIANS AT SYRACUSE.
ing greedily. The Peloponnesians came down the bank and slaughtered them, falling chiefly upon those who were in the river. Whereupon the water at once became foul, but was drunk all the same, although muddy and dyed with blood, and the crowd fought for it.
At last, when the dead bodies were lying in heaps one upon another in the water, and the army was utterly undone, some perishing in the river, and any who escaped being cut off by the cavalry, Nicias surrendered to Gylippus, in whom he had more confidence than in the Syracusans. He entreated him and the Lacedaemonians to do what they pleased with himself, but not to go on killing the men. So Gylippus gave the word to make prisoners. Thereupon the survivors, not including, however, a large number whom the soldiers concealed, were brought in alive. As for the three hundred who had broken through the guard in the night, the Syracusans sent in pur suit and seized them. The total of the public prisoners when collected was not great ; for many were appropriated by the soldiers, and the whole of Sicily was full of them, they not having capitulated like the troops under Demosthenes. A large number also perished, — the slaughter at the river being very great, quite as great as any which took place in the Sicilian war ; and not a few had fallen in the frequent attacks which were made upon the Athenians during their march. Still, many escaped, some at the time, others ran away after an interval of slavery, and all these found refuge at Catana.
The Syracusans and their allies collected their forces and re turned with the spoil, and as many prisoners as they could take with them, into the city. The captive Athenians and allies they deposited in the quarries, which they thought would be the safest place of confinement. Nicias and Demosthenes they put to the sword, although against the will of Gylippus. For Gylippus thought that to carry home with him to Lacedaemon the generals of the enemy, over and above all his other suc cesses, would be a brilliant triumph. One of them, Demosthe nes, happened to be the greatest foe, and the other the greatest friend, of the Lacedaemonians, both in the same matter of Pylos and Sphacteria. For Nicias had taken up their cause, and had persuaded the Athenians to make the peace which set at liberty the prisoners taken in the island. The Lacedaemonians were grateful to him for the service, and this was the main reason why he trusted Gylippus and surrendered himself to him.
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But certain Syracusans, who had heen in communication with him, were afraid (such was the report) that on some suspicion of their guilt he might be put to the torture and bring trouble on them in the hour of their prosperity. Others, and especially the Corinthians, feared that, being rich, he might by bribery escape and do them further mischief. So the Syracusans gained the consent of the allies and had him executed. For these or the like reasons he suffered death. No one of the Hellenes in my time was less deserving of so miserable an end ; for he lived in the practice of every virtue.
Those who were imprisoned in the quarries were at the beginning of their captivity harshly treated by the Syracusans. There were great numbers of them, and they were crowded in a deep and narrow place. At first the sun by day was still scorch ing and suffocating, for they had no roof over their heads, while the autumn nights were cold, and the extremes of tempera ture engendered violent disorders. Being cramped for room they had to do everything on the same spot. The corpses of those who died from their wounds, exposure to the weather, and the like, lay heaped one upon another. The smells were in tolerable ; and they were at the same time afflicted by hunger and thirst. During eight months they were allowed only about half a pint of water and a pint of food a day. Every kind of misery which could befall man in such a place befell them. This was the condition of all the captives for about ten weeks. At length the Syracusans sold them, with the exception of the Athenians and of any Sicilians or Italian Greeks who had sided with them in the war. The whole number of the public prison ers is not accurately known, but they were not less than seven thousand.
Of all the Hellenic actions which took place in this war, or indeed of all the Hellenic actions which are on record, this was the greatest — the most glorious to the victors, the most ruinous to the vanquished ; for they were utterly and at all points de feated, and their sufferings were prodigious. Fleet and army perished from the face of the earth ; nothing was saved, and of the many who went forth few returned home.
Thus ended the Sicilian expedition.
364 SOPHOCLES' ANTIGONE.
THE SACRIFICE OF ANTIGONE. By SOPHOCLES.
(Translated by K. C. Jebb. )
[Sophocles : A famous Greek tragic poet, born at Colonus, near Athens, probably in b.