HELMET AND SPEAR

STORIES FROM THE WARS OF
THE GREEKS AND ROMANS

By the

REV. A.J. CHURCH, M.A.

Sometime Professor of Latin in University College, London
Author of "Stories from Homer," etc.

"Yea, but of war the righteous last event
In highest Heaven is born,
And from great Zeus with saving power is sent."

Aeschylus, Seven against Thebes.

NEW YORK

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY

66 Fifth Avenue

1900

Flight of the Persians after Marathon.

PREFACE

I have told again in this volume some familiar stories, using mostly the original authorities, but availing myself, where it was possible, of the help of Plutarch, whose biographies are always rich in picturesque details. These narratives never lose their interest, and they have this special significance, that they illustrate what we all at least desire to believe, that results of abiding good come out of the losses and sorrows of war. I have sought to draw out this thought with some detail in my Epilogue.

A.J.C.
Ightham, Sevenoaks.
September 8, 1900.

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

[ FLIGHT OF THE PERSIANS AFTER MARATHON]
[ TIMOLEON HOLDING THE FORD OF THE CRIMESSUS]
[ THE BATTLE OF ISSUS]
[ THE OVERTHROW OF CANNÆ]
[ DEFEAT OF THE CIMBRI IN THE BATTLE AT THE WAGGONS]
[ CRASSUS DEFEATED BY THE PARTHIANS]
[ TRAJAN BESIEGING A DACIAN FORT]
[ ATTILA AND LEO]

To
MY DAUGHTERS

BOOK I

GREECE AND PERSIA. THE DEFENCE

I. THE MEN OF MARATHON

We may say of wars what a famous philosopher said of revolutions, that they happen about little things, but spring from great causes. When Herodotus at the beginning of his History proceeds to put on record the grounds of the great feud between the Greeks and the Barbarians, he tells us of various outrages committed by one party or the other. The Phœnicians began by carrying off Io, daughter of Inachus; the Greeks retaliated by landing at Tyre and bearing away the king's daughter Europé. This they followed by the capture of Medea, a princess of Colchi. When Paris of Troy ran away with the fair Helen from Sparta he was only setting the account straight. It was then that, according to the Persian sages, with whom Herodotus seems to agree, the Greeks made a fatal mistake. They actually led a great army into Asia to recover a worthless woman, though "men of sense care nothing about such people."

The fact is that the Greeks, as a very enterprising and active race, came into frequent collision with their Eastern neighbours. We catch glimpses of this in very remote times. To these, however, we need not go back. Towards the end of the eighth or early in the seventh century B.C., the kings of Lydia began to encroach on their Greek neighbours and conquered city after city. Crœsus, who was the last of the dynasty, had made himself master of all of them before he was himself overthrown by Cyrus the Persian. This event meant nothing for the Greeks but a change of masters, and this was not a change for the better. Lydians and Greeks had long been neighbours, and could contrive to live on tolerable terms. The Persians were strangers from a remote country, and were of a harsher temper. In 502 B.C. a general rebellion took place, in the course of which Sardis, the local capital of the Persians, was burnt. A contingent of Athenian troops took part in this affair, and their presence was the immediate cause of the great struggle that followed. The war between Greece and Persia lasted, with intervals of doubtful peace, something less than 180 years. The first great conflict was at Marathon.

In the late summer of 490 B.C. the Persian army landed at the Bay of Marathon, distant from Athens about twenty miles as the crow flies, about twenty-five by the only road practicable for wheeled conveyances. Of the Persian numbers we know nothing. Herodotus, who is our best authority (born in 480, he probably talked with men who had fought in the battle), gives no figures. Later writers speak of impossible numbers, 600,000 being the largest, 110,000 the smallest estimate. To carry even 110,000 across the Ægean sea would have been a heavy task. If a guess has to be made, one may venture to say 60,000. The Athenians numbered 10,000, and they had with them 1,000 men from Platæa, a little Bœotian town, which they had recently taken under their protection. The Plain of Marathon is about six miles long from south-west to north-east, and in breadth varies from two and a half to one and a-half miles. On the north-east it is bounded by a great marsh, which is divided from the sea by a narrow slip of land. There is another smaller marsh on the south-west. Along the edge of this swamp ran the road to Athens. It was probably the immediate object of Datis, the Persian general, to seize this road, and of the Athenian commanders to protect it. Their right wing rested on the seaward slope of what is now called Agrieliki, the north-eastern spur of Pentelicus. About a mile from this may still be seen the remains of the mound which was raised over the bones of the Athenians slain in the battle. It is probable that this marks the spot where the fight raged most fiercely. If this is so, the Persian lines must have been advanced to within a short distance of the rising ground.

The Athenians, on learning the actual approach of the Persian forces, had sent a swift runner to Sparta to beg for help. The man reached Sparta, a distance of about one hundred and forty miles, in less than forty-eight hours ("on the second day" is the expression). The Spartans promised to come, but could not start, they said, till after the full moon, which was then five days off. The question then among the Athenian generals—there were ten in number and had each his day of command—was whether they should fight at once or wait for the Spartan contingent. The ten generals who shared the command of the army were equally divided in opinion. But Miltiades, the most distinguished of their number, was eager for instant action, and succeeded in winning over to his views Callimachus the Polemarch, with whom it lay, in case of an equal division, to give the casting vote. We shall see that he had good reasons for his action, and that his promptitude saved Athens; and, we may say, Greece.

The centre of the Persian line of battle was held by the native Persians and Sacæ, these latter a tribe now represented by the Turcomans. Of the rest of the formation we are told nothing. Some cavalry they had, but it is not mentioned as taking any part in the battle. It has been conjectured that it had not been disembarked when the battle was fought. It would certainly have been difficult to get the horses on board again, and if any number of them had been captured, we should probably have heard something about it. The Athenian line was drawn up so as to be equal in length to the Persian. To effect this it was, of course, necessary to make it very thin in parts. This was the case in the centre, where there were but two or three files. No light armed soldiers, no archers, no cavalry were present. All were heavy armed men with a few slaves in attendance. The right wing was commanded by Callimachus; the Platæans were on the left.

There was, as has been said, a space of a mile between the two armies. Miltiades ordered the Athenians to cross this at a run. Such a thing had never been done before in regular warfare. It was an amazing feat of strength, for the men were in heavy armour. Not less remarkable was the courage of the movement, for in those days the Greeks had not learned to look down upon the Persians. To the enemy the charge seemed to be the act of madmen; but they must have felt that such madmen were dangerous enemies, and must have been shaken in the confidence with which they had looked forward to victory. Still they stood their ground, and met their assailants in hand-to-hand fight. They even broke the centre of the Athenian line, which, as has been said, was but two or three files deep. Herodotus even says that "they pursued them into the middle country," a curious phrase, seeing that the battle was fought only a mile or so from the sea shore. But in hand-to-hand fighting, when the conditions were at all equal, the Persians were no match, either in training or in equipment, for their adversaries. The poet Æschylus, himself "a man of Marathon," the proudest title which an Athenian could bear, speaks of the war of the Persian against the Greek as the battle of the bow against the spear. In the Persæ, the drama which celebrates the crushing defeat of Persia in its second assault on Greece, he makes the chorus, consisting of the Great King's councillors, boast of how their lord would bid

"The arrows' iron hail advance
Against the cumbrous moving lance;"

a happy stroke of irony when it was known that the lance had prevailed over the arrow. It certainly prevailed that day. Both the wings were victorious in the shock of arms, and when they had put to flight the ranks opposed to them they turned to restore the fortune of the day in the centre. This they soon accomplished. Before long the whole Persian line was in rapid retreat. Pausanias says that many of the fugitives rushed into the marsh, and, indeed, that the greater part of their loss was thus caused.

Miltiades, anxious to complete his victory, followed up the flying enemy, and endeavoured to cut off his retreat. Here he was less successful, and, indeed, incurred serious loss. In the attempt to burn the Persian ships not a few distinguished Athenians fell. The Polemarch and another of the generals were among them; so was a brother of the poet Æschylus, who, having laid hold of one of the ships, had his hand cut off by an axe, and died of the wound. The Persians contrived to get away, not losing more than seven of their ships, but leaving behind them in their richly furnished tents an ample booty for the conquerors.

Athens, however, was not yet safe. Hippias, who along with his brother had once held despotic power in the city, and had been driven into exile twenty years before, had come with the Persian army, hoping that his friends—for he still had a party that plotted for his return—would move in his favour. They did not altogether fail him. When the Persians had re-embarked, a signal—a polished shield flashing in the sunlight—was perceived on the summit of Pentelicus. This was to indicate that the Persians should take advantage of the absence of the army and sail round to Athens, and that the party of Hippias was ready to act. Part of the fleet accordingly took the direction of Cape Sunium, which it would have to round before it could reach Athens. Miltiades seems to have been aware of what was intended, and at once gave orders to march back to Athens with all haste. This was done, and the traitors were foiled. The Persian fleet, it will be seen from the map, would have to make a circuit of about sixty miles, while the army would have to march less than half that distance.

The Persian loss is put down by Herodotus at 6,200, a moderate figure which is very probably near the truth. Of the Athenians, one hundred and ninety-two were slain. They were buried on the field of battle, and a mound heaped over their remains. On the top of this were placed ten stone pillars, one for each of the Athenian tribes, inscribed with the names of the slain. An eleventh pillar commemorated the Platæans, a twelfth the slaves who fell in the great victory. After the death of Miltiades a monument was erected to him on the same spot. The pillars have long since perished, but the mound remains. It is thirty feet high and about 200 yards in circumference. It was excavated in 1890-91 by order of the Greek Government, and found to contain human remains, with pottery of the very period of the battle. Writing about six centuries later, Pausanias says, "Here every night you may hear horses neighing and men fighting," and adds that it brings bad luck to go out of curiosity, but that "with him who unwittingly lights upon it by accident the spirits are not angry." The same tradition lingers about many of the great battlefields of the world. Shepherds who fed their flocks on the plains of Troy saw spectres in armour, and conspicuous among them the spirit of the great Achilles. The scenes of the great battles of Attila and Charlemagne are still said to be thus haunted.

It only remains to say that 2,000 Spartans arrived on the day after the battle, that they went to the field of battle to see the Persian dead, and after greatly praising the Athenians, returned home.

II

THE LION KING

Darius was not by any means disposed to take his repulse at Marathon as final. On the contrary, he at once set to work on making preparations for a new expedition, which should this time be one of overwhelming force, and which he determined to lead in person. A revolt which broke out in Egypt probably delayed him for a time. Anyhow, he died in 485 before his preparations were complete. He had reigned for thirty-six years and was probably in his sixty-eighth year. Xerxes, the eldest of the sons born after his accession to the throne, succeeded him without any opposition. He is said to have been averse to the scheme of an invasion, but was persuaded by those who were interested in promoting it. However this may be, the preparations were not seriously interrupted. The Egyptian insurrection was put down, and in the autumn of 481 the army intended for the invasion of Greece was assembled at Sardis. The story of the events that followed must be sought elsewhere, for I am not attempting to give a narrative of the Persian war. It must suffice to say that by August, 490, the Persian army had occupied Thessaly. It was at the famous pass which leads from this region into Locris that the Greeks made their first stand.

Thermopylæ (the Hot Gates) consisted of two narrow passes, neither of them of greater width than one wheeled carriage would require, caused by the near approach of Mount Œta to the sea, or rather to an impassable morass which here formed the coast-line. (It is well to remark that considerable changes have taken place in the character of the country, the coast-line, in particular, having receded a long way eastward.) The easternmost of the two passes was that to which the name properly belonged, for here there were actual hot springs, dedicated to Hercules, and supplying medicinal baths. Between the two passes (the distance of a mile) the mountain receded from the sea, leaving a level space of about half a mile broad. At Thermopylæ proper there was a wall built by the Locrians, but at the time of which we are speaking it had fallen into ruins.

It was here that Leonidas, one of the two kings of Sparta, took up his position, late, it would seem, in July. He had with him 300 Spartans, 2,500 soldiers from other parts of the Peloponnesus, a contingent of 700 from Thespiæ, one of the Bœotian towns, which dissented strongly from the pro-Persian views of their countrymen, and 400 Thebans, who came on compulsion. Thebes did not venture to refuse the demands of Leonidas while their Persian friends were still a long way off. He was also joined by contingents of the Locrians and Phocians. Both tribes had given in or were about to give in their submission to the Persians, but probably preferred the success of the Greeks. In any case, they were not prepared to resist the Greek commander-in-chief, present as he was with a much superior force.

Leonidas at once strengthened his position by repairing the half-ruined wall by the Hot Springs. But he learnt that Thermopylæ was not the only way by which access could be had from northern to southern Greece. The Phocians informed him that there was a mountain path which led from a point beyond the westernmost pass to another point beyond the defile of the Hot Springs. But they promised that they would guard it. The fact came, of course, to the knowledge of the troops generally, and greatly discouraged them. They even wished to abandon Thermopylæ altogether. Those that came from the Peloponnese were especially urgent, believing that they had a much better position for defence in the Isthmus of Corinth. Leonidas refused to retreat, but he sent messengers to the various Greek States with an urgent demand for reinforcements. The forces that he had with him were wholly unequal, he said, to cope with such an army as the Persians had at their command.

Xerxes, who had encamped within sight of Thermopylæ, sent a horseman to reconnoitre the position of Leonidas. The Spartans were on guard that day in front of the wall, and the man observed that some were engaged in athletic exercises, while others were combing their long hair. Demaratus, an exiled king of Sparta, who was with Xerxes, when questioned about the meaning of this behaviour, told him that his countrymen were particularly careful with their toilet when engaged in any dangerous enterprise, and that he must expect a desperate resistance. "You have to deal," he went on, "with the first city of Greece, and with her bravest men." "But how can so small a company contend with mine," asked Xerxes, who had not yet learnt to doubt his big battalions. The king was unwilling to believe him, and waited for four days in the expectation that the Greeks would think better of their purpose to resist, and would retire without a conflict.

On the fifth day, finding that the Greeks were still in their positions, Xerxes sent the Medes and the men of Cissia (now Khuzistan) with instructions to take the Greeks alive and bring them into his presence. These troops rushed with the greatest courage to the attack. Many were slain, for indeed they were no match for the Greeks in hand-to-hand fighting, but others stepped into their places. The struggle went on during the whole day, with no result except heavy loss to the assailants. On the morrow Xerxes sent his Persian corps d'élite, which went by the name of the "Immortals," to the attack, confident that they would be able to force the pass. They met with no better success. Their spears were shorter than those used by the Greeks, and the narrowness of the battlefield did not allow them to take advantage of their superiority in numbers. Herodotus makes special mention of the practised skill which the Spartans displayed. One of their methods was to feign flight, lure the assailants on, and then turn on them with deadly effect. Vast numbers of the Persians were slain; the Greeks also suffered some loss, for the best troops of the East could not have fought wholly in vain, but this loss was very small. Thrice during the day's engagement the Persian king is said to have leapt from the seat from which he watched the combat in terror for his army.

Yet another day was spent in a fruitless assault on the Greek position. The Persians hoped to wear out the enemy by incessant attacks. Some must be slain or wounded, and when the total number was so small, even a small loss must tell upon them in the end. As a matter of fact, however, the strength of the Greeks was not sensibly impaired. The space of ground that had to be held was very small, and the Greeks could change their men actually engaged at frequent intervals.

The treachery of a native of Malis, a little Dorian state in the heart of the mountains, relieved Xerxes of his perplexity. He offered, for a reward, to show a mountain path by which the Greek position could be turned. The name of this wretch, on whose head a price was set by the General Council of the Greek States, was Ephialtes. It is doubtful whether the secret could have been long kept; but there seems to have been a general agreement that Ephialtes was the guilty man, though other names were mentioned.

Xerxes willingly purchased the secret, and entrusted the task of outflanking the Greek position to the Immortals. They started at dusk and marched all night. The Phocian guards of the path seem to have neglected to place any outposts, and were not aware of the approach of the enemy till the crackling of the leaves under their feet, carried through the still air of night, gave them warning. They started up from their bivouack at the sound, and the Persians, surprised at the sight of an enemy whose presence they had not expected, halted. The Phocians seem not to have attempted to hold the path, but retreated to the crest of the hill and then made ready to defend themselves. The Persians left them alone, and continued their march.

The Greeks at Thermopylæ had by this time received warning of what had happened. The soothsayer attached to the force is said to have read in the victims which he examined a prognostic of their fate. More definite information came from scouts who had been out on the hills, and who now came hurrying into the camp with the news. A council of war was hastily held. It could not agree, but the result was that the majority of the contingents retreated. Whether they did this with or without the orders of Leonidas is not certain. It is one of the matters about which it is almost impossible to arrive at the truth. Herodotus thinks that they were ordered to retire by Leonidas because he saw that they were unwilling to stay. This has a look of probability. As for Leonidas himself and his Spartans, they elected to stay. The inflexible military honour of their commonwealth forbade retreat. The seven hundred Thespians refused to depart, and must be allowed the glory of a still more heroic courage.[1] The Theban contingent was detained against its will. The soothsayer Megistias—his name ought to be preserved no less carefully than that of the traitor Ephialtes—refused to depart, though being not a Spartan, but an Acamanian by birth, he might have done so without discredit, but he sent away his only son. The name of the Thespian leader ought also to have its place on the roll of honour. It was Demophilus.

In the forenoon the Persians began a double attack, in front and in rear. They had seen such proofs of Greek prowess that the men had to be driven into battle by the whip. As for the Greeks, they changed their tactics. Leaving the pass of the Hot Springs and the wall, they advanced into the open space. Hope of escape or victory had been given up. They would fight where they could sell their lives most dearly. And dearly did they sell them. Crowds of the Persians fell; many were trampled under foot by their comrades; many more were thrust into the marsh that bordered the road on the side of the sea. Among the slain were two brothers of the king. The Spartans and Thespians fought till their spears were broken. Leonidas seems to have fallen early in the day, and there was a furious struggle for the possession of his body. Four times did the barbarians carry it off, and four times was it recovered. As the day drew on the Immortals came upon the scene. Aware of their approach, the Greeks retreated to the pass and prolonged their resistance to the very uttermost. When their weapons failed them they used their hands and even their teeth. But the Persians now surrounded them and showered arrows and all kinds of missiles upon them. They perished to a man. One more name from among the three hundred Spartans must be preserved—Dieneces, who seems to have been a wit as well as a warrior. When a man of Trachis told him that the Persians were so numerous that their arrows would darken the sun, "'Tis well," he replied, "stranger; then we shall fight in the shade." One of the contingent was absent. He and a comrade had been lying sick of ophthalmia at a neighbouring village. They could not agree as to what should be done. One buckled on his armour and bade his attendant helot lead him—for he could not see—to the battlefield. The helot did so, and then turned and fled. His master plunged into the thick of the fight and fell. The other sick man returned to Sparta. There no one would give him light to kindle his fire, or speak to him. He wiped away the reproach by falling, after prodigies of valour, at Platæa.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Canon Rawlinson does not show himself as acute as usual when he suggests that this splendid resolve of the Thespians was due to an ambition of dispossessing Thebes from the headship of the Bœotian confederacy. Mr. Grote's remark that they knew that they must be left homeless is more to the point.

III

IN THE STRAITS

While the army of the allied Greeks was holding the pass of Thermopylæ, their fleet occupied Artemisium. This was a promontory at the northern end of the island of Eubœa, a small stretch of coast on either side of the actual cape being known by the same name. The Persian attack was being made both by land and sea, and the Greek plan of defence was to check it at two points which were as nearly as possible in a line.

Both positions were liable to be turned. The danger at Artemisium was even greater than at Thermopylæ, for there was nothing to prevent the Persian fleet from sailing down the east coast of Eubœa. Indeed we shall see that this was done, though, as it turned out, without any ill result to the Greeks. It is clear that the officers in command of the fleet were quite as uneasy as some of the army leaders at Thermopylæ, nor was there any one who could exercise the control that Leonidas, in virtue of his commanding personality and his rank as a Spartan king, exercised over the allies.

An event of no great importance turned this uneasiness into panic. Two out of three ships which had been detached to keep a look out were captured by an advanced Persian squadron of ten ships. In consequence of this disaster, the fleet hastily retreated some fifty miles to the south to a spot where the channel between the mainland and Eubœa is at its narrowest. It would probably have gone still further south but for the heavy loss which the Persian fleet suffered during a four days' storm. No less than four hundred ships were destroyed, and with them an uncounted multitude of men. The Greeks were so encouraged by the loss which had befallen the enemy, that they returned in all haste and took up their former station. Hence the battle of Artemisium.

The first incident was a Greek success. The Persian fleet took up its position in the great natural harbour which is now known as the Gulf of Volo. Fifteen ships belonging to it lagged so far behind the rest, that by the time they reached the south-eastern point of the gulf the main body had rounded it and were out of sight. But the Greek fleet was full in view; they mistook it for their own, sailed straight towards it, and were captured without a struggle. Notwithstanding this stroke of good fortune the Greek captains were full of fears. Even after the losses caused by the storm, the Persian fleet greatly outnumbered their own. They had two hundred and eighty ships, reckoning nine fifty-oars with the larger triremes or "three-bankers"; the Persians must have had more than twice as many. The question of retreat again came up, and seemed very likely to be decided in the affirmative. A different result was brought about by a proceeding curiously characteristic of Greek ways of acting and thinking. The people of Eubœa were in despair at the prospect of being deserted. It would be something, they thought, if they could secure a few days' grace in which to remove their portable property to a place of safety. They went to Eurybiades, the Spartan admiral, who was in supreme command, and begged him to postpone his departure for a short time. He refused the request. It would not, he said, be for the public interest. Then they went to Themistocles, the Athenian admiral. He was not the commander-in-chief, but he commanded the most numerous contingent, one hundred and twenty-seven ships, only thirteen short of the half. They offered him a splendid bribe of thirty talents (about £7,000 of our money) if he could procure for them the desired delay. Themistocles seems to have known the price of the men whom he had to buy. To Eurybiades he gave five talents, and the Spartan, to whom this sum probably seemed a fortune, changed his views about the public safety. The Corinthian commander, who had the most powerful squadron after that of Athens, had also to be bought. Themistocles dealt with him in the frankest way. "I will give you," he said, "more for staying than the Persians will give you for going." The Corinthian does not seem to have resented the suggestion that he was ready to be bribed by the enemies of his country, and accepted the two talents which Themistocles sent on board his ship. The Athenian kept the handsome balance in his own hands. We cannot say anything more for him than that he comes out of the transaction better than his colleagues. They believed that the better and safer course was to retreat. He, on the contrary, was convinced that the right policy was to stop and fight. But he never forgot his personal interests. In this case he made them harmonise; on other occasions his action was more doubtful. There is reason to think that, before the end of his career, he postponed the public good to his own.

The Persians, when they saw that the Greek fleet was still at Artemisium, had, it would seem, no thought but of how they might make sure of capturing the whole. They sent a squadron of two hundred ships to sail down the eastern coast of Eubœa. These were to take the Greek in the rear, the main body waiting till the arrival of the squadron had been signalled. Meanwhile the Greeks had received some encouraging intelligence. A Greek diver, named Scyllias,[2] who had been in the employ of the Persians, deserted to them. He described the damage that had been done by the storm, and also informed them about the squadron that had been sent round Eubœa. The first thought of the Greek admirals was to sail south, and meet this squadron. But on reflection, bolder counsels prevailed. Late in the afternoon they left their station, and sailed towards the hostile fleet. The Persians viewed the movement with astonishment, and the Asiatic Greeks with dismay, for though serving with the enemy, they wished well to their countrymen. The Greek ships were inferior, not only in numbers, but also in equipment, and they seemed to be rushing on destruction.

The Greeks began by assuming what seemed like a defensive position, forming a circle, with the sterns of their ships in close order, and the prows turned to the enemy. The enemy advanced to close with them, and then, at a concerted signal, the Greeks dashed at their opponents with such success that they captured thirty of their ships, the first prize falling, as indeed was fitting, to an Athenian ship. The Persians, recovered from the first surprise, began to hold their own better, and when night fell, the issue of the conflict was still doubtful. The captain of a ship from the island of Lemnos had the sagacity to see how the struggle would end, and deserted to the Greeks, receiving afterwards a handsome reward for his timely patriotism.

Again the "stars fought in their courses for Greece." That night there was a thunder-storm, with heavy rain and wind. The main body of the fleet did not suffer much material damage, but the crews were dismayed to see fragments of wrecks and bodies of the dead drifted in by the wind. These were, indeed, the tokens of a great disaster. The squadron that was sent round Eubœa had been driven on a lee shore and absolutely destroyed. On the morrow the Persians made no movement, but the Greeks repeated the tactics of the day before. The news of the disaster to the Persian squadron had reached them, and they had been joined by a reinforcement of Athenian ships. This gave them new courage besides increasing their strength. Before the close of the day they captured some Cilician ships.

On the third day the Persian commanders, made desperate by failure, for they served a master who exacted a cruel penalty for ill-success, moved forward to engage the enemy, the Greeks awaiting their attack. The order of the Persian attack was in the shape of a half-moon, and its object to outflank the enemy on either side. The Greeks accepted the challenge. The result was not decisive. The Greeks sunk and captured more ships than they themselves lost. But their own loss was serious. Of the Athenian fleet especially, more than half was so injured as to require repair. By this time, too, the position had ceased to have any strategic value. The pass of Thermopylæ had been forced by the Persians, and it was useless, therefore, to hold Artemisium. That night the Greek fleet retired southwards. Themistocles, before he went, caused to be engraved on a prominent rock an inscription which invited the Asiatic Greeks serving with the Persians to make common cause with their countrymen. "If these words," he reasoned with himself, "escape the knowledge of the king, they may bring these Greeks over to us; if they come to his knowledge, they will make him distrust them."

FOOTNOTES:

[2] Pausanias tells us that he saw at Delphi a statue of this Scyllias, which had been erected by the Amphictyonic Council. A statue of his daughter Hydna had formerly stood next to it, but had been carried off by Nero. The two were famous divers, and some marvellous legends had gathered about them. Pausanias was told that they had dragged away the anchors and moorings of the Persian ships during the storm, and so aggravated the disaster. Herodotus had heard a yet more marvellous story of how Scyllias had dived the whole distance, nearly ten miles, between the Persian station and the Greek, but adds characteristically, "My own opinion is that he made the passage in a boat."

IV

THE WOODEN WALLS

The retreat of the Greek forces from Thermopylæ and Artemisium left Athens without defence. There had been a promise that an army of the allies should make a stand against the invaders in Bœotia. No attempt was made to keep it. The only plan of defence that commended itself to the Peloponnesian States was to fortify the Isthmus of Corinth—and all the states outside the Peloponnesus, Athens excepted, were either pro-Persian or indifferent. As Athens was unwalled, there was no question of defending it; the only thing that could be done was to save as much life and property as was possible. For this the time was short, and might have been shorter than it actually was, for the Athenians had six days in which to transport their belongings to a place of safety, though the distance to be traversed by the invaders was not more than ninety miles. All the women, children, and persons incapacitated by illness or old age were put on shipboard, and carried either to Trœzen, a friendly city in the peninsula of Argolis, which had some tie of kinship with Athens, to Ægina, which was but ten miles away, or to Salamis, which was even nearer. The Athenians begged the allies to remain in the neighbourhood till the work of transport was accomplished, and Salamis happened to be the most convenient spot for this purpose.

The whole fighting strength of Athens was now embarked in its fleet. Years before, Themistocles, with a sagacity and prescience that seem almost miraculous, had counselled his countrymen to spend all their available resources in building ships. And only a few months before, the oracle of Delphi had advised the Athenians to trust in their "wooden wall," a phrase which this same statesman had interpreted as meaning the ships. No one, we may believe, knew better what it meant, as he had probably suggested it. The time had now come to put this counsel into practice. Every able-bodied Athenian took service in the fleet, the wealthy aristocrats, known as the "knights," setting the examples by hanging up their bridles in the temple of Athené.

It had never been the intention of the officers in command of the allied fleet to give battle at Salamis. They thought of nothing but the safety of the Peloponnesus; possibly they believed that nothing more than this could be hoped for. But when the Athenians, compelled as they were to abandon their city, asked for their help in saving non-combatants and such property as could be removed, they could not refuse. And now the question presented itself—Where are we to meet the Persian fleet? The captains assembled in the ship of Eurybiades the Spartan, who was in chief command, and debated on what was to be done. The general opinion was that they should retire from Salamis, from which there would be great difficulty in escaping, if escape should become necessary, and give battle somewhere off the coast of the Peloponnesus. In the midst of the discussion a messenger arrived with the news that the Persians had overrun all Attica, and had taken by storm the citadel of Athens, which a few enthusiasts had insisted on defending. These tidings could not have taken any one by surprise, but the fact that one of the great cities of Greece had fallen into the hands of the barbarians produced a panic. Some of the captains left without waiting for the decision of the council, and, hurrying to their own squadrons, prepared to depart. Those who stayed resolved to retire to the Isthmus and make a stand there.

As Themistocles was returning to his ship from the council, he was met by a friend who, in bygone years, had been his instructor in philosophy. The new-comer, on hearing the decision at which the council had arrived, denounced it most emphatically. "It means ruin for Greece," he said. "The fleet will not remain together to fight; every contingent will steal away, hoping to protect its own country. Go and persuade Eurybiades to reconsider the question."

Themistocles went, and using every argument that he could think of, at last succeeded in making such an impression on Eurybiades that he consented to summon another council. Of course it was the etiquette for the commander-in-chief to state the business which they had met to discuss, but Themistocles, who saw that it was a matter of life and death, could not help urging his case, without waiting for the president of the council. Adeimantus, of Corinth, angrily interrupted him. "Themistocles," he said, "at the Games, they who start too soon are scourged." "True," replied the Athenian, "but they who start too late are not crowned." He then addressed the council in a tone of studied mildness and conciliation. He said nothing about the probability that the fleet would be broken up by a general desertion—such an argument would have been affront—but he urged that to fight at Salamis would not be to risk everything on the issue of one battle. To retreat would be to leave all northern Greece at the mercy of the Persians, while a defeat at the Isthmus would mean the loss of the Peloponnesus itself. As for the Athenians, they would loyally abide by any decision to which the allies might come.

Adeimantus, enraged at the Athenian's persistence, interrupted him with the remark that a man who had no country had no right to speak, and even appealed to Eurybiades to impose silence upon him. Themistocles then saw that it was time to assert himself. "With two hundred ships fully manned and armed we have," he said, turning to Adeimantus, "as good a country as any man here, for what state could resist us should we choose to attack it?" Then he addressed himself to Eurybiades. "Play the man and all will be well. All depends upon our ships. If you will not stay here and fight, we will take our families on board and sail for Italy, where the gods have provided us a home. Without us, what will you do?"

To this threat there was no answer. The council resolved to stay and fight.

But the matter was not really settled. The Peloponnesian contingents were determined, in the last resort, to disobey their chief, and Themistocles was aware of their determination. Only one course remained for him, and it required the courage of despair to take it. If the allies would not stay at Salamis of their own free will, they must do it by compulsion. He sent a trusted slave to the Persian admiral with this message: "The Athenian commander is a well-wisher to the King, and he informs you that the Greeks are seized with fear, and are about to retreat from Salamis. It is for you to hinder their flight." A more daring stratagem was never put into execution. Not the least strange circumstance about it is the fact that, years after, when Themistocles had fallen into disgrace at home, he successfully claimed as a service to the Persian king that he had given him the chance of destroying the whole of the Greek fleet at one blow.

The Persian commanders seem not to have suspected the good faith of the communication thus received, and at once set about closing in the Greek ships. The town of Salamis was built in a little bay on the eastern side of the island, the distance across to the mainland of Attica being about two miles. The Greek fleet was drawn up, in what may be described as the shape of a bow loosely strung, in front of the town; the Persian ships were ranged along the opposite, i.e., the Attic shore. Both to the north and to the south the channel narrowed, being less than a mile across. The Persians now extended their line northwards till it touched the shore of the island, and southwards till it reached an uninhabited island called Psyttaleia. On this island they landed a body of troops who were to help the crews of any of their own ships that might be damaged, and slaughter any Greek soldiers or sailors who might be in a similar plight.

While these preparations were going on—and they lasted nearly through the night—the Greek leaders still hotly debated the question of going or staying. An unexpected end was put to the controversy. The chief opponent of Themistocles in Athenian politics was Aristides. He had been banished, and, at the instance of his successful rival, recalled from banishment when the danger of a Persian invasion became imminent. He now came to join his countrymen, and brought startling tidings with him. He had come from the island of Ægina, which lay some twelve miles to the south of Salamis, and his ship had narrowly escaped capture in making its way into the bay of Salamis; only the darkness had made it possible to do so. Themistocles was fetched out from the council to hear the tidings. "I hope," said Aristides, "that always, and now especially, our strife will be who may do his best service to his country. As for the question of going or staying, it matters nothing whether the Peloponnesians talk much or little. Go they cannot. We are enclosed on every side. This I have seen with my own eyes."

"This is good news," replied Themistocles, "for the Persians have done exactly what I wished. Our men, who would not fight of their own free will, will now be made to fight." And he told him of what he had done. "And now go and tell them. If I was to say it, they would not believe me."

Aristides accordingly went in to the council and told them his news. Many of them refused to believe it, but when a ship from the island of Tenos that had deserted from the Persians confirmed the report, there was nothing more to say. All that could be done was to make all the preparation possible for a conflict which had become inevitable.

Of the battle we have two accounts, that of Herodotus, derived doubtless from one or more persons who had taken part in it, and that of Æschylus, who actually fought there as he had fought before at Marathon. The two accounts substantially agree, but they differ in the number of Greek ships engaged. Herodotus says that there were 378, made up to the round number of 380 by the Tenian ship which deserted on the night before the battle, and a ship from Lemnos, which had done the same at Artemisium. He gives the number of each contingent, the largest being 180 contributed by Athens, while 89 came from the states of the Peloponnesus, and 57 from Ægina and Eubœa. One ship only came from Greece beyond the sea. Even this was a private rather than a public contribution. A certain Phayllus of Crotona furnished a ship at his own expense, and manned it with fellow-citizens who were sojourning in Greece. Pausanias saw his statue at Delphi six centuries afterwards. Æschylus says that there were 300 ships, and ten were of special swiftness or strength. Mr. Grote thinks that this number is to be accepted in preference, hardly showing, I think, his wonted acuteness. The poet had to state his number in verse, and finds "ten thirties" a convenient way of doing it. But 380 would have been an unmanageable figure, and we have, accordingly, a convenient round number. Very likely Mr. Grote was not so alive to the exigencies of verse as he had been forty years before, when he was a Charterhouse boy.

As soon as the sun rose, the Greek fleet moved forward to the attack, the crews joining, as they advanced, in the pæan or shout of battle. They met no reluctant foe. So confident, indeed, was the bearing of the Persians, that the Greeks were checked. Some of the crews even began to back water. The issues of great battles are often decided by examples of courage. So it was at Salamis, for one of the Greek ships advanced and led the way for the rest. To whom this credit is due cannot be said for certain. The Athenians declared that this brave captain was Ameinias, a brother of the poet Æschylus; the Æginetans claimed the honour for a ship of their own, which had brought over, on the eve of the battle, the heroes worshipped in their city as auxiliaries of the Greek people.[3] Herodotus had also heard a legend how the form of a woman, doubtless the goddess Athené, had been seen in the air and heard to cry, in a voice which reached from one end of the fleet to another, "Friends, how much further are ye going to back?" Æschylus gives his authority in favour of his countryman, not expressly but by saying that the ship which led the attack broke off the stern of a Phœnician ship, for we know that the Phœnician squadron was posted over against the Athenian contingent. The Æginetan was second if not first, and Simonides gives the third place to a ship that came from Naxos. By common consent Athens and Ægina shared the chief distinction of the day between them. The Athenian ships busied themselves with such of the enemy's fleet as offered resistance or were beached by their captains; the Æginetans attacked those that attempted to escape by the southern channel (their way to the open sea).

The subjects of Xerxes, on the whole, displayed great courage, not the less because they were fighting under the eyes of the king, who was watching the battle from a projecting point of Mount Ægaleos on the mainland of Attica. The native Persians and Medes, as inland peoples, were serving as what we call marines on board the ships furnished by the maritime provinces of Phœnicia, Egypt, and Cilicia. But they seldom had the chance of showing their prowess in boarding, and when they had they were hardly a match for their better-armed and more athletic antagonists. As for the management of the ships, the sailors from the east were not, as a rule, equal, either in resolution or in skill, to the hardier races of the west. Their superior numbers, in the narrow space to which the battle was confined, were a hindrance rather than a help. There was no mutual confidence, and no common speech. And the cogent motive that sent them into action was fear of punishment or, at the best, obedience to a ruling race, while the Greeks were fighting for home and country. The Persian fleet was more successful where the Asiatic Greeks were matched with the squadrons from the Peloponnesus. Herodotus, himself an Asiatic Greek by birth, vindicates their honour as combatants at the expense of their Greek patriotism. "I could mention," he says, "the names of many captains who took ships from the Greeks." He thinks it prudent, however, to omit them—and indeed when Herodotus wrote, such exploits would be better forgotten—and gives two names only, both of them well known already. He also mentions with pleasure the signal discomfiture of some Phœnician captains, who, having lost their ships early in the day, sought to excuse themselves to Xerxes by laying the blame on the treasonable practices of the Greeks. The battle was still going on, and almost while they were speaking a Samothracian ship was seen to ram and sink an Athenian. It was in turn disabled by an Æginetan trireme. But the Samothracian crew were expert javelin-throwers. They cleared the deck of the Æginetan, boarded, and captured it. Xerxes turned fiercely on the Phœnicians, and ordered that they should be instantly executed, as having ventured to slander men braver than themselves.

Another incident of the day Herodotus relates from personal knowledge. His native city of Halicarnassus had been ruled for some years by Artemisia, the daughter of one Lygdamis and the widow of another. She had advised Xerxes not to engage the Greek fleet, speaking with a frankness which might well have put her life in danger. Overruled by other counsellors, she did her best for the king's cause, but found herself in the greatest peril. An Athenian ship was in close pursuit of her, and there was a crowd of Persian vessels in front which hindered her escape. One of these belonged to a Carian neighbour, with whom, it is possible, she was not on the best of terms. She bore down upon his vessel, and sank it. The Athenian captain concluded at once that she had changed sides and was now fighting for Greece. He abandoned the pursuit, and Artemisia escaped. And she earned praise as well. "Sire," said one of the courtiers who stood by the king's seat, "dost thou see how bravely Artemisia bears herself? She has just sunk a Greek ship." He was sure, he went on to say, that the exploit was Artemisia's, for he knew her flag. No one seemed to have suspected the truth, and fortunately for Artemisia there was not a single survivor from the Carian ship to tell the tale.

Herodotus gives no estimate of the loss on either side. A later Greek writer says that two hundred Persian and forty Greek ships were destroyed, and that the Persian loss in men was in a much greater proportion. Few of them could swim, and consequently, when a ship was sunk, the whole crew perished with it. Most of the Greeks, on the contrary, were able to save themselves by swimming. Another disaster to the king's forces was the total destruction of the Persian troops landed on the island of Psyttaleia. Aristides disembarked with some Greek heavy-armed, and put them all to the sword. Among them were some of the king's own guard.

FOOTNOTES:

[3] These were Peleus and Phocus, sons of Æacus. Telamon, also a son of Æacus, and Ajax, son of Telamon, were worshipped in Salamis.

V

THE BATTLES ON THE PLAIN AND ON THE SHORE

After the defeat at Salamis Xerxes withdrew his army into Thessaly. The result of his deliberations with his advisers was that he should himself go home, protected by a division of 60,000 men, and that his uncle Mardonius should stop in Greece with the intention of renewing the campaign in the following year. Mardonius was allowed to choose such portions of the army as he thought best, and having selected 300,000 men, went into winter quarters in Thessaly. It is needless to relate all that happened during the six months or so that passed from the opening of the campaign in the spring of 479 up to the final struggle in the early autumn of that year. It will suffice to say that Mardonius did his best to detach the Athenians from the cause of Greece by the most liberal offers, and that the Peloponnesians did all they could to bring about the same end by the consistent selfishness of their policy. To Mardonius the Athenians returned a firm refusal. To the Spartans they addressed a strong remonstrance. They represented that they had been already deserted, that the promise of help to be given for the defence of Attica had been shamefully broken. They hinted that if the Spartans and their friends persisted in neglecting every Greek interest outside the Isthmus they would be compelled, much against their will, to make terms with the enemy.

The Spartans would probably have continued to temporise but for the plain speaking of a native of Tegea in Arcadia, a friendly state for which they felt the greatest respect. "No wall at the Isthmus will protect us," he said, "if you drive the Athenians into alliance with Persia. They will put their fleet at the disposal of the enemy, and you will be helpless." The change in the Spartan policy was dramatically sudden. That very night five thousand Spartans set out for the front, a larger force than the state ever before put into the field, or was ever to put afterwards. Each Spartan had seven light-armed helots to attend him. The same number of the non-Spartan population of Laconia, each with one helot, followed. Mardonius, on hearing of this movement, withdrew from Attica into Bœotia and prepared to give battle.

The contingents of the Peloponnesian States mustered at Corinth. As they marched north, the Athenians, who had crossed over from Salamis, joined them. The whole force amounted to more than 100,000 men. It is not necessary to give all the numbers sent by the various states. The Lacedæmonians had 10,000 heavy armed (with 40,000 light armed), the Tegeans 1,500, the Athenians 8,000; the other contingents, for reasons which will shortly appear, may be left out of the account.

Mardonius had constructed an entrenched camp on the north or left bank of the river Asopus. In front of this camp he drew up his line of battle. The Greek army, which was under the command of Pausanias, uncle of one of the kings of Sparta and regent, took up its position on the slopes of Mount Cithæron. Their unwillingness to descend into the plain and come to close quarters emboldened Mardonius to attack them with his cavalry. The contingent from Megara happened to be in a peculiarly advanced or otherwise exposed situation, and suffered so severely that it had to send for help. It explains Pausanias's apparent timidity when we find that he could not induce any of his troops to go to the assistance of their hard-pressed countrymen. In the end three hundred Athenians volunteered for this service. They took with them a force of archers, an arm in which Megarians were entirely deficient. Some sharp fighting ensued; at last an arrow killed the horse of the Persian general Masistius, and the general, a man of great stature and beauty, and a splendid figure in his gilded chain-armour, was thrown to the ground. This happened close to the Athenian lines, and Masistius was soon killed, though it was only by a thrust in the eye that he could be despatched, so impenetrable was his armour. The Persian cavalry, as soon as it became aware of its leader's fate, charged furiously to recover the body. For a time the Greeks were driven back, but they rallied and recovered the prize. The Persians, demoralised, in the usual fashion of Asiatics, by the loss of their leader, retreated in disorder.

Encouraged by this success, the Greeks descended into the plain, and took up a second position on the right bank of the Asopus. The Lacedæmonians occupied the right wing, the Athenians the left. A curious instance of the want of discipline in the army is afforded by the dispute which arose between the Athenians and the Tegeans as to precedence. The first post of honour, the right wing, was conceded by common consent to the Lacedæmonians; the second part, the left wing, was the matter in dispute. Tegea claimed it on account of various mythical exploits, and on more recent successes achieved in company with Sparta. Athens had also its mythical claims, but it relied on the victory at Marathon. The decision was given in favour of Athens by a general vote of the Lacedæmonian soldiery. The new position taken up by the Greeks was found to be anything but convenient. The army suffered from a scarcity of water; it was unsafe to approach the river banks, for this was commanded by the Persian archers, and consequently the sole supply was a spring, known by the name of Gargaphia, which was close to the Lacedæmonian position. Mardonius shifted his line of battle a little to the west, so as to front the new Greek position. His picked native troops, the Persians and the Sacæ (Turkomans) were posted, not in the centre, the post of honour in an Asiatic army, as we have seen more than once before, but on the left wing, where they would face the Spartans; to the Theban contingent was allotted a place on the right where they were opposed to their old enemies of Athens. This was done at the suggestion of the Theban leaders, and the suggestion did credit, as we shall see, to their sagacity.

For ten days the two armies remained in position without moving. The soothsayers on both sides reported that the sacrifices portended success to a policy of defence; disaster, if an attack should be attempted. It was to the Greek cause that the delay was more perilous. The army suffered greatly from the incessant attacks of the Persian cavalry; the scanty water supply was a great inconvenience and even a danger; and when, at the suggestion of his Theban friends, Mardonius sent his cavalry to cut off the supplies that were sent by the passes of Cithæron into the Greek camp, the dangers of the situation were still further aggravated. But the most serious peril of all was of another kind. The spirit of party, without which no free state can exist, but by which every free state is ultimately ruined, was rife in the Greek ranks. The traitors who had shown the signal of the shield after Marathon were not absent from the ranks at Platæa. The Thebans, with malignant sagacity, suggested to Mardonius that he should rely on the influences that were working for him, and avoid a general engagement. Happily for Greece, he refused their advice, which was discreditable, he said, to Persian honour. A people so superior in war had no need to resort to such expedients. He resolved to assume the offensive.

The Greeks were apprised of this change of plan by a visitor from the Persian camp. After nightfall, Alexander, King of Macedonia, who claimed to be descended from the great hero Achilles, rode up to the Athenian outposts and demanded speech with the generals. They were fetched by the guard, and he told them that Mardonius had tried in vain to obtain from the sacrifices signs that promised success, but that, nevertheless, he was determined to attack. "Be prepared," he went on, "and if you prevail, do something for my freedom; I have risked my life for love of Greece, to save you from a surprise by the barbarians. I am Alexander of Macedon."

When Pausanias heard the news he made a proposition to the Athenian generals, which, as coming from a Spartan, a race so punctilious in military honour, sounds very strange. He suggested that they should take the place of the Spartans on the right wing, where they would be opposed to the Persian infantry whom they had already conquered at Marathon, but whom the Spartans had never met in battle. The Athenians promptly agreed, but the movement was detected by Mardonius, and was met by a corresponding change in his line. On perceiving this, Pausanias reverted to the former arrangement.

The first offensive movement on the part of Mardonius was eminently successful. His cavalry got past, or broke through the Spartan line, so as to get at the spring of Gargaphia. This they choked, and so deprived the Greek army of their only available water supply.

A change of position became necessary. The new ground which the council of war determined to occupy was near Platæa, and went by the name of the Island, because it lay between two small streams which descend from Cithæron. The army would have a water supply, and would be protected, in a degree, from the Persian cavalry. It was then too late to make the movement, which would not be practicable except under cover of darkness. The whole of the next day had to be spent in extreme discomfort; and when at nightfall orders were given for a change of position, two somewhat alarming incidents took place. The centre of the Greek force, comprising all the smaller contingents, had been so demoralised, it would seem, by the troubles of the day that, as soon as the night fell, they marched off, not to the Island, but beyond it, to a place which they very probably considered to be better protected against the harassing attacks of the cavalry. This was the town of Platæa itself. They took up a position in front of the temple of Heré, a building of considerable size, as we know from the ruins still to be seen, and on high ground. Here they had the town behind them, and ground, unfavourable to the action of cavalry on either side. The other disconcerting event was the conduct of one of the Spartan officers, Amompharetus by name.[4] This man conceived that the movement ordered by Pausanias was a retreat, and so forbidden by the strict code of Spartan military honour. Accordingly he refused to move. An angry dispute followed, Pausanias and his second in command doing all they could to convince their subordinate, he obstinately adhering to his decision. In the midst of the argument a messenger from the Athenians arrived on horseback. They were perplexed by the inaction of the Spartans, and, very possibly, suspicious of some design which would be compromising to their own safety. At the moment of this messenger's arrival Amompharetus had delivered his ultimatum. Taking up from the ground a huge stone, he cast it at the feet of Pausanias, saying at the same time, "I give my vote for staying"—the same word serves in Greek for vote and pebble, pebbles being used in the ballot-boxes. Pausanias hurriedly explained the situation to the Athenian, and begged him to carry back a message that he hoped his countrymen would not move till he could overcome the difficulty in which he found himself. This, indeed, seemed almost hopeless. At last, just before dawn, Pausanias made up his mind to leave the refractory captain behind. Finding himself alone with his company, he would, he hoped, consent to follow. And this was what actually took place.

By this time day was dawning, and Mardonius became aware of what had happened. He seems to have looked upon the movement in much the same way as Amompharetus had done. It was a flight. These Spartans, for all their boasted courage, were running away. His Persian troops answered the command by a disorderly advance. They crossed the Asopus, which, it will be remembered, flowed in front of their position, and hurried in the track of the Spartans; the rest of the Asiatics followed their example. Pausanias sent a message to the Athenians, telling them that the Persians were concentrating their whole strength against his division, and begging that they would come to his help, at least by sending their archers. The Athenians, however, had by this time work enough of their own to deal with, for the Thebans and Thessalians had commenced an attack upon them.

The Spartans, therefore, had to bear the brunt of the Persian attack alone. They had ten thousand heavy-armed and four times as many light-armed, numbers slightly increased by the contingent from Tegea, a force of three thousand, equally divided between the two classes of troops. Pausanias, who seems to have shown little ability or presence of mind from the beginning to the end of the campaign, was busy with the customary sacrifice. Unfortunately the victims showed no encouraging signs, and he was content, possibly was compelled by the public opinion of his men—for a Greek army, even when it came from Sparta, was a democracy—to postpone any movement of offence till the Fates seemed propitious. Meanwhile his men were falling about him—one of the slain was reputed to be the handsomest man in the whole Greek army.[5] In an agony of distress, Pausanias lifted his eyes to the Temple of Heré, which stood on a conspicuous height, and prayed for the help of the goddess. The signs immediately changed, and the welcome signal to charge was given. The Tegeans seem to have already moved. Together they advanced against the Persian line, which was protected by a rampart of wicker shields, from behind which the archers had been pouring volleys of arrows. The rampart was soon broken down. Then a fierce hand-to-hand fight began. Again and again the Persian braves dashed themselves on the Spartans' spears and broke or strived to break them. "They were not one whit inferior to the Greeks in boldness and warlike spirit"—such is the testimony which men who had borne their part in that fierce struggle bore to the bravery of their antagonists—but their armament was less effective and their military training less complete. The battle raged most furiously about the person of Mardonius, who was surrounded by a bodyguard of a thousand Immortals. As long as he lived these picked warriors held their own; when he was struck down—a Spartan, Aeimnestus[6] by name, had the credit of the deed—they fled in wild confusion to their camp. A body of forty thousand was led off the field by the general in command, when he saw how the fortune of the day was going.

On the right wing of the Persian army the Theban infantry, always distinguished for its steady courage, held its own for a considerable time against the Athenians. It stood alone, however. The other Greeks, whom Xerxes or his lieutenant had pressed into the Persian service, felt no zeal for the cause, and took the first opportunity that occurred of retreating. The Thebans, who must have been much inferior in numbers to their Athenian adversaries, were driven back, with a considerable loss in killed. They took refuge within the walls of their city. Their cavalry, indeed, achieved the only success that the army of Mardonius could boast. News reached the Greek centre, in its position outside Platæa, that the right wing had put the Persians to flight, and it hurriedly advanced to take a share in the victory. The movement was made in a careless and disorderly way. So relaxed was discipline that the whole force did not even keep together. Two of the contingents, from Megara and Phlius (a small state in the north of the Peloponnese) were attacked by the Theban cavalry as they crossed the plain and suffered a very heavy loss, as many as six hundred being slain. "So they perished without honour," says Herodotus. It must be owned that from first to last the smaller Greek States earned little distinction in the war.

The Persian entrenched camp was for a time a difficulty. The Spartans attacked it, but made no progress, being wholly unacquainted with the methods of assaulting fortified places. They had to await the arrival of the Athenians, who seem to have had, if not more experience, at least more intelligence. With their help the camp was taken by assault. The spoil was very great. Pausanias says that he saw at Athens the golden scymetar of Mardonius, taken from his tent on the day of the victory.

The loss of the Persians was, of course, very great. Herodotus says that only 3,000 survived. This may be an exaggeration, but it is doubtless true that the chances of escape were very small, and that no mercy would be shown. Of the Greeks 159 are said to have fallen. To this number must be added the 600 cut off by the Theban cavalry, and about as many more who fell in the preliminary conflicts. Plutarch, while giving the same number as Herodotus, states that the total Greek loss, from first to last, was 1,360.

Among the Spartan dead were Amompharetus, and Aristodemus, the unhappy survivor of Thermopylæ.

Two of the Greek contingents, from Mantinea and from Elis, arrived after the battle was over. They fined the generals whose tardiness had deprived them of all share in the glory of the victory.

Much might be said of what was done by the conquerors to commemorate their victory; but my task is finished when the battle has been described. For one curious story, however, I must find room. Out of the tenth of the spoil dedicated to the Delphian Apollo, a golden tripod, or caldron, supported by three legs, was made. This tripod rested on a bronze pedestal. The gold was plundered by the Phocians about a century and a half later, but the pedestal was carried by the Emperor Constantine to his new capital on the Bosphorus. This relic was seen by English travellers in the seventeenth century, and was more minutely examined at the time of the Crimean war. The original inscription put by Pausanius was erased by the Lacedæmonians, a list of the states that took part in the battle being substituted. Solvents applied to the rust that had accumulated on the metal made this list legible. It contains the names of states which we know to have had no claim to the honour. This exactly agrees with what Herodotus tells us. Systematic falsification of history was carried on by the cities which by their misfortune or their fault took no part in the victory.

The combined Greek fleet did little or nothing after the victory at Salamis. Themistocles proposed, indeed, a vigorous policy. The Persians should be closely pursued, the bridge across the Hellespont destroyed, and the whole of the invading army destroyed. The Spartans took a different line, urging that Greece would do well to let an enemy, who might still be dangerous, depart without further molestation. This policy had something to be said for it, and Sparta carried the other allies with her. The Asiatic Greeks, however, were not disposed to lose the opportunity of freedom. In the spring of the following year (479) they sent envoys to the leaders of the Greek fleet, which was then stationed at Ægina, begging them to follow up the successes already won. The envoys found their task a very difficult one. The Spartan Leotychides, who was in command, was unwilling to undertake the responsibility. He moved as far eastward as Delos, and there remained. Later in the year another effort was made, this time by three natives of Samos, which was then governed by a tyrant established in power by the Persians. The envoys urged on Leotychides the duty of helping his fellow Greeks to escape from the Persian yoke, and enlarged on the prospects of success. "Stranger," said the Spartan to the spokesman of the embassy, "tell me your name." "Hegisistratus" (army-leader), answered the man. "I accept the omen," cried Leotychides, and the resolution to advance was taken.

The Greek admirals had expected to find the Persian fleet at Samos. In this they were disappointed. It had left the island, and had taken up a position on the mainland, where it would have the assistance of the army, numbering, we are told, 60,000, which had been left to overawe the Greek cities. The place was Mycalé, now known as Cape St. Mary. The channel between the mainland and Samos is here at its narrowest. The ships were beached, and protected by a rampart made of stones and timber.

The first thing that Leotychides did, doubtless suggested by the action of Themistocles at Artemisium, was to approach the Greeks serving in the Persian camp. He caused his ship to be brought as close as possible to the shore, and instructed a herald to proclaim, as he moved slowly along, a message to the Greeks. "Men of Ionia," such were the words, "when we join battle with the Persians, remember freedom." They might, he thought, act upon the suggestion, and turn their arms against the Persians. Anyhow, it would cause distrust and suspicion. The latter anticipation was at once fulfilled, The Persians disarmed the Samians, and sent the contingent from Miletus to a distant spot, which they were to guard, the real object being to get them out of the way. This done they prepared to defend themselves against the Greeks, who were now advancing to the attack.

And now there happened one of the strange events to which we may safely give the neutral name of coincidence. As the Greeks moved forward, a rumour ran from one end of the army to the other that a great battle had been won in Bœotia. At the same time some one saw a herald's staff[7] lying on the shore. The common belief at the time was, of course, in a divine interference. Later on the sceptical explanation that the commanders invented the story to encourage their troops became current. The strange phenomena of thought-currents, brain-waves, etc., familiar to modern experience, will, perhaps, account for the story as satisfactorily as can be expected. Anyhow the report was true; the battle of Platæa had been fought and won in the morning of the day of Mycalé.

The actual conflict was very like that which occurred at Platæa. As we hear no more of the stockade of stone and timber with which the ships were protected, we may presume that the Greeks delivered their attack on the flank of the Persian position. Here a wicker rampart had been extemporised, just as it had been at Platæa. With the help of this the Persians were able for a time to hold their own. Herodotus goes so far as to say that they had not the worst of the battle. But the Athenians, anxious to secure the honours of the day before the Spartans arrived, renewed the attack with fresh vigour, broke down the wicker rampart, and pursued the flying enemy to their fortified camp. For a time, even when the rampart had fallen, the valiant Persians maintained the struggle. Then, overpowered by fresh arrivals, they slowly fell back. The Greek army advanced in two divisions, the Athenians and the contingents brigaded with them marching over the level ground by the sea, the Spartans, with the Peloponnesians generally, taking an inland route which led them over some rough and difficult country. Naturally their progress was not rapid, and the battle was virtually decided when they reached the field of action.

To the very last the Persians showed all the courage and pluck of a ruling race. The Greek victory was by no means bloodless. The contingent from Sicyon, in particular, lost heavily. The result of the day, however, was definite enough. Some survivors from the battle contrived to escape to the hills, and thence to Sardis, but the army, as a whole, ceased to exist. The ships were naturally abandoned. Perhaps this was the most important of the Greek successes, for it meant the liberation of the islands of the Ægean. These were finally rescued from the yoke which had been heavy on them for half a century.

FOOTNOTES:

[4] He commanded a lochos; there were four in each mora, the whole force being divided into six moræ. The divisions varied in size according to the number of men called out. On this occasion each mora would number 830 men (about), and each lochus 207 (about).

[5] His name was Callicrates, Fair and strong, as it might be rendered. There is a class of historical critics who would argue that the name gave rise to the legend, just as they suggest—this has actually been done—that the name of the fleet runner who traversed the distance between Athens and Sparta so speedily, shows the mythical character of the story. It was Pheidippides, i.e. Horse-sparer's son.

[6] Observe again the significant name—Ever remembered.

[7] The herald's staff (scutalé) was a contrivance for sending messages. A strip of leather, on which the message was written lengthwise, was rolled slantwise round a baton. When unrolled it could not be read, but when put on the similar baton in the hands of the officer abroad it again became legible.

BOOK II

GREECE AND CARTHAGE

I. THE LORD OF SYRACUSE

In the early part of the year 480, when the danger from Persia was imminent, the Greeks sent an embassy to their countrymen in Sicily, asking for help. The Greek power in the island was largely in the hands of one man, Gelo, tyrant of Syracuse. To him, therefore, the application was made. Herodotus gives an account of the interview, professing to report the speeches which were made at it. These may be epitomised thus:—

Ambassadors: "The Persian King is bringing against us the strength of Asia. He professes to be seeking vengeance on Athens; really, he is bent on subduing the whole Greek race. If he should conquer us he will certainly attack you. Join with us therefore in resisting him. Combined, we shall be a match for him; disunited, we shall certainly be conquered."

Gelo: "When I asked you for help against Carthage you would not give it. For anything that you did to stop it, Sicily might have been conquered by the barbarians. But I will return good for evil. You shall have two hundred ships of war, twenty thousand men-at-arms, two thousand cavalry, as many more light-armed troops, and corn for your whole army as long as the war lasts. Only you must give me the chief command."

Syagrus (the Spartan ambassador): "What would King Agamemnon say if he heard that Sparta had given up her leadership to a man of Syracuse? Know that we will not have your help upon such terms."

Gelo: "It seems but fair that I who send so large a force should have the command. Still, if you are so stiff about the leadership, I will say—'Command the army, and let me have the fleet; or, if you like it better, take the fleet and give me the army.'"

The Athenian Ambassador (interrupting before any one else could speak): "The command of the fleet is ours. We will yield it, indeed, to the Spartans, if they desire it, but we will yield it to no one else."

Gelo: "Friends, you seem not to want for commanders, though you want for men. As you ask everything and yield nothing, go back to Greece and say that she has lost the spring out of the year."

There is nothing improbable about this dialogue. Questions of precedence and leadership were regarded with great jealousy by States that were actually independent of each other and nominally equal. The strange thing is that Gelo makes no mention of the danger with which he was himself threatened. He brings up against the ambassadors the fact that the States which they represented had given him no help in conflict with Carthage (an incident of which we know nothing from any other source), but he does not mention what was undoubtedly the case that he was at the moment expecting another attack from the same quarter. It would have been quite impossible for Gelo to send fifty thousand troops—not to speak of the crews of the ships—out of Sicily, when he was certain to want every man that he could raise in the course of a few months.

The truth is that there was another Asiatic power which was scarcely less formidable to European civilisation than Persia itself. I speak of Carthage. Though locally situated in North Africa as an Asiatic power, she was Phœnician in origin, character, and institutions. Founded by emigrants from Tyre some time in the ninth century B.C., she had always kept up a close connection with her mother-country of Phœnicia. One of the traditions of the race was to regard the Greeks as rivals or as enemies. Sicily, where Greeks began to settle in the eighth century, just about the time when Carthage was beginning to expand, and which, at its nearest point, was not more than a hundred miles from that city, naturally became a battlefield between the two races. Phœnician traders had been in the habit of visiting the island long before the Greeks appeared upon the scene, and though they seem to have given up most of their scattered ports and factories, they continued to occupy three towns in the western division. Carthage therefore would find kinsfolk and friends when she sought to gain a foothold in Sicily. When this attempt was first made we do not know. The early history of the city is a blank. About 550 B.C. we hear of one of its leaders making conquests in Sicily, among other places. That there was a great effort to conquer the island in 480 we cannot doubt. Probably it was the result of an agreement with Persia. There is, it is true, no evidence forthcoming of any compact of the kind; but it is not likely that there would be such evidence. On the other hand, the Persian king may very easily have come to an arrangement with the Carthaginian government through Phœnician intermediaries. The Phœnician contingent was the largest in his fleet, and was high in his favour, at least until the disastrous defeat of Salamis.[8] The coincidence of time is, in itself, a strong argument for the existence of a common plan.

One of the many Hamilcars who figure in Carthaginian history was put in command of an army which is said to have numbered 300,000 men. It was made up of Phœnicians, probably recruited in Carthage itself, and in various settlements of that race along the Mediterranean coast, of Africans from the home provinces, of natives of Sardinia, Corsica, and the Italian mainland, and, finally, of Spaniards, for Spain was by this time within the sphere of Carthaginian influence. Hamilcar landed at Panoromus and marched to Himera, which lay some twenty miles to the westward on the northern coast of the island. Some of his large fleet of transports, especially such as carried the cavalry and the war-chariots, were lost on the way, or lagged behind. Still the army, as a whole, was successfully transferred to Sicilian soil, and Hasdrubal, convinced that if this could be done his force would be practically irresistible, is reported to have said: "The war is over." He had, we must remember, another good reason for confidence. There was a powerful minority among the Greek cities which was prepared to welcome the interference of Carthage. Hamilcar had been actually invited by the banished tyrant of Himera. Unfortunately, any enemy of a Greek city could expect to find helpers within its walls in an unsuccessful party. Eager political life did much for the development of Greek character, but a heavy price had sometimes to be paid for its benefits. Hamilcar divided his force between two camps. One of them was for the crews of the fleet, which had all been beached with the exception of twenty swift vessels kept for an emergency; the other was occupied by the army. Himera, on the other hand, prepared for a desperate resistance. Even the gates were bricked up. The garrison was under the command of Theron, tyrant of Agrigentum. His first step was to send off a messenger to Gelo with an urgent appeal for help. Gelo was ready to march. He had under his command fifty thousand infantry and five thousand horse. He reached Himera, and strongly fortified a camp outside the city. He had, as has been said, a strong force of cavalry, an arm in which the Carthaginians were deficient owing to the accident to the horse transports. This superiority he used to cut off the enemy's foraging parties. His success in these operations was so great as to raise the spirits of his troops. The inhabitants of Himera grew so confident that they pulled down the brickwork with which, as has been said, they had blocked up their gates.

The decisive battle was not long delayed. We have no details of the tactics employed on either side, but we are told that the contest was long and bloody, lasting from sunrise almost to sunset. A daring stratagem seems to have done something towards deciding the issue of the battle. Gelo had intercepted a letter from the magistrates of the Greek city of Selinus to Hasdrubal, in which there was a promise that they would send a force of cavalry to his help. He intended some of his own horsemen to play the part of the cavalry of Selinus. They were to make their way into the enemy's camp and then take the opportunity of doing all the mischief they could. A concerted signal was to apprise the commander-in-chief of their success. On seeing he would press the attack with all possible vigour. This he did, and the result was the complete defeat of the Carthaginians.

So far there is nothing improbable about the story. When we are told that one-half of the invading army fell on the field of battle we recognise one of the familiar exaggerations of ancient history. It is probable that the real number, both of the combatants and of the slain, was much smaller than that commonly received. However this may be, Carthage certainly suffered a disaster of the first magnitude. Her army ceased to exist; some of the fugitives probably made good their escape to the Phœnician strongholds in the island, but many were compelled to surrender to the conquerors. Some, doubtless, were ransomed by their friends at home; the rest were sold as slaves.

So fine an opportunity of pointing a moral and adorning a tale was not likely to be lost by the Greek writers. The story in the shape which it ultimately took was this: As both of the Carthaginian camps were captured by Gelo, the fleet met with the same fate as the army. But the squadron of twenty ships which had been reserved for emergencies made good its escape. But even these were not fated to reach the African shore. A storm overtook them on their voyage and all perished. One little boat, rowed by a single survivor, survived to carry the story of how the most splendid armament ever sent forth from Carthage had ceased to exist. Exactly the same story was told of the return of Xerxes after the defeat of Salamis. According to Herodotus, who had every opportunity of knowing the truth, the Persian king made his way back over-land, losing many men on the way from hunger and disease, but unmolested. So tame a conclusion did not satisfy the Greek sense of the fitness of things. Tradition pictured the Persian king as making his escape after the battle in a single ship; and Juvenal, when he was seeking illustrations for the great theme of the vanity of human wishes, found the legend admirably suited to his purpose. Xerxes had lashed the winds and put the sea in fetters when they hindered his triumphal march. But how did he return?—

"In one poor ship the baffled monarch fled
O'er crimsoned seas and billows clogged with dead."

The fate of Hamilcar himself was wrapped in romantic mystery. Some said that he was slain by one of the horsemen who made their way into the camp; according to others he destroyed himself. While the conflict was raging he remained in the camp, occupied in soliciting the favour of the gods by costly sacrifices. He was not content to offer the victims in the usual way, by pieces taken from this or that part. They were thrown whole into the fire, which was built high in order to consume them. When he found that his devotion was unavailing and that the tide of battle was turning against him, he threw himself into the furnace. Certain it is that he was never again seen alive. Gelo erected a monument to him on the field of battle, and the Carthaginians paid to his memory yearly honours of sacrifice. There must have been some greatness in the man which was thus recognised by the conqueror, and by the city which had, one would think, no reason to be grateful to him.

FOOTNOTES:

[8] See p. 41.

II

THE STORM FROM AFRICA

Though the Carthaginians, for some reasons which we do not understand, commemorated Hamilcar on the field of Himera, they did their best at home to banish all recollection of his disastrous expedition. They even sent his son, Gisco, into exile for no reason except his unfortunate parentage. Gisco took up his abode in the Greek city of Selinus. A Greek city was not likely to be an agreeable home for a stranger not of Hellenic blood. The Greek's pride of race was intense; all the outside world was barbarian to him. Anyhow, one of Gisco's children, Hannibal by name, carried away from the place where his youth was spent an intense dislike of the race. "He was by nature," says Diodorus, "a Greek-hater." The guilt of his race had been expiated, it would seem, by his father's lifelong exile, and he had been permitted to return home, and had even risen to the highest office in the State.

An opportunity now came to him for gratifying the animosity which he felt against the city of Selinus. This seems to have been in a state of chronic enmity with its neighbour Egesta. The quarrel between them had already led to the most disastrous consequences. It was the complaint of Egesta against their neighbours of Selinus that had given Athens a pretext for their Sicilian expedition. Only two years had passed since this expedition had come to an end, disastrous beyond all precedent in Greek history, and now this paltry quarrel was about to cause another devastating war. Egesta was, of course, worse off than when she made her unlucky application to Athens and was hard pressed by her Greek neighbours. She now sent envoys to Carthage. Hannibal, as I have said, saw his opportunity. He persuaded his countrymen to take up the cause of the weaker State. The first thing was to send envoys to Sicily with instructions so to manage the affair as to make an appeal to arms certain.

They were to go to Syracuse in company with a deputation from Egesta, lay the affair before that State, and offer to submit to arbitration. It was pretty certain that Selinus would refuse its consent, for it was practically in possession of the territory which was the matter in dispute. This, indeed, was exactly what happened. Selinus represented its case before the Syracusan assembly, but refused arbitration. Syracuse, accordingly, resolved to stand neutral, to maintain its alliance with Selinus, and to remain at peace with Carthage. Selinus, left to itself, failed to understand the danger in which it was placed. Five thousand Africans and eight hundred mercenaries from Italy, veterans who had served with the Athenians in the siege of Syracuse, but had left them or been discharged before the final catastrophe, came to the help of Egesta. The Selinuntines took no heed of their arrival, but continued to ravage the enemy's territory. As they met with no opposition, they grew more and more careless. But the enemy was on the watch, and taking the invading force by surprise inflicted on them a heavy loss, killing or taking prisoners as many as one thousand men.

Even now Selinus, it is possible, might have escaped her doom. My readers will remember that the State had been on friendly terms with Carthage, and had actually sent, or at least promised, help to Hamilcar when he was attacking Himera.[9] Had it asked for peace and appealed to these associations in support of the petition, Hannibal might not improbably have granted tolerable terms. His great quarrel was not against Selinus, but against Himera. It was at Himera that his grandfather had perished, and it was his grandfather's death that he desired above all things to avenge. But the Selinuntines appear to have been totally insensible of their danger. They asked for help from Syracuse, should the need arise, and received a promise that it would be given. But nothing was actually done.

The fact is that no one in the island was aware of the vast preparations which Hannibal was making for an expedition in the following year. We are not told how the secret was kept; but kept it was. When the storm burst on the Sicilian Greeks it took them by surprise, and it came with overpowering force.

The numbers given by historians are, as usual, various and untrustworthy.[10] One writer gives 100,000, and this we may take as approximating to the truth. The army was made up as usual of mercenaries, commanded, as far at least as the superior officers were concerned, by native Carthaginians. The city was now at the very height of its prosperity and could command a practically unlimited supply of men from the fighting races of the world. Africans, Spaniards, and Italians made up the force, with a mixture of Greeks, always ready to sell their swords to any paymaster. This great army was carried across the sea in fifteen hundred transports, and were landed in the bay of Motyé, not far from Lilybæum, the western extremity of the island. Selinus is on the southern coast of the island, but Hannibal preferred to disembark his troops at some distance. Had he sailed any distance along the southern coast his advance might have been regarded as a menace to Syracuse and the other Greek cities. His sagacity served him well. Syracuse, whether informed of what had happened or not, made no movement. Hannibal, on the other hand, lost no time, but marched straight to Selinus, his forces being increased by contingents from Egesta and the Carthaginian settlements. The walls of the town were ill-adapted to resist the attack of an army far outnumbering the force available for defence and amply furnished with everything that the engineers of the time could put at the disposal of a besieging force. Powerful catapults discharged showers of missiles which cleared the walls; archers and slingers were posted at points of advantage where they could serve with the best effect the same purpose; wooden towers, filled with armed men, were brought up to the walls, with which they were very nearly on a level; elsewhere huge battering-rams were driven against such spots in the fortifications as showed any signs of weakness or decay. Every one of these methods of attack was made formidable in the extreme by the multitudes of men available for pushing them home. And Hannibal was present everywhere, urging on his soldiers with an almost fanatical energy. The siege lasted for nine days, the besiegers pressing the assault with unabated energy, the besieged maintaining the defence with all the resolution of despair. There was no thought of capitulation. Indeed, the Carthaginian general would grant no terms. He had promised the plunder of the town to his soldiers, and Selinus had no other prospect than to resist or to perish.

Assault after assault was delivered and repulsed. But it was a conflict that could not be indefinitely continued. The combatants in the place could hardly have exceeded ten thousand; probably their number, even when swelled by every one who could hold a weapon, was under this figure. And they had all to be on service, with the very briefest intervals of rest, or with no intervals at all. The assailants came on by relays, of which there were so many that no one had to fight for more than three or four hours at a time. On the third or fourth day a body of Campanian mercenaries found their way into the town over a breach that had been made by the battering-rams. But Selinus was not yet taken. The townsmen gathered themselves up for a supreme effort, and the Campanians were driven out with the loss of many of their number. On the tenth day a Spanish force—the Spaniards were always the most resolute fighters in the armies of Carthage—made their way into the town. This time the wearied citizens could not drive the storming party back. Yet they still resisted. Barricades were set up and desperately defended in the narrow streets, while the women and children showered tiles and bricks from the roofs and upper stories on the enemy below. A last stand was made in the market-place. Thus most of those who still survived were slain. Some fell alive into the hands of the enemy; two or three thousand made good their escape to Agrigentum.

And all the while not a single soldier from any one of the Greek cities of Sicily came to help the unhappy town. Messenger after messenger had been sent to tell how pressing was the need, and to implore assistance, but no assistance was given. Agrigentum and Gela had indeed their forces ready to march, but they waited for Syracuse, and Syracuse was culpably tardy in moving. Possibly, as had been suggested, its rulers fancied that Hannibal would waste time as they had lately seen Nicias, the Athenian commander, waste it before their walls. Anyhow, they waited first till a petty quarrel with two of their Greek neighbours was finished, and then till the very largest and best equipped force that could be raised was ready to march. By this time the opportunity was lost. With horror, not unmixed with a certain fear for its own future, Syracuse heard that Selinus, a Dorian Greek city, like itself, had fallen.

The fall of a city taken by storm has always been miserable in the extreme. In whatever respects the world may have advanced and improved, in this it remains much about the same. But the Carthaginians seem to have used their victory with more than common barbarity. That the prisoners should be slaughtered in cold blood was unhappily a common incident. A Greek conqueror was more likely than not to treat fellow Greeks in this way. But mutilation was a hideous barbarity, and in this Hannibal permitted his soldiers to indulge. I mention the fact because it helps us to realise how the world would have been put backward if Carthage had triumphed over Greece. Selinus was again inhabited, but it never recovered the terrible blow inflicted upon it by Hannibal. To this day the prostrate columns of its temples, some of the most magnificent ruins in the world, bear the marks of the crowbars which the barbarous invaders used in overthrowing them.

The main purpose of Hannibal was still to be accomplished. It was against Himera, the scene of his grandfather's defeat, that his expedition was really aimed, and, Selinus destroyed, he marched against the other city, which was on the north coast of the island, and about fifty miles distant. His numbers were swollen by recruits from the native Sicilian tribes, who had never reconciled themselves to the presence of the Greek settlers, and now gladly seized the opportunity of expelling them. Hannibal repeated at Himera the tactics which he had employed with success at Selinus. He delivered his attack without any delay, bringing his battering-rams to bear upon the walls, and bringing up his movable towers. Nothing was accomplished on the first day. The people of Himera had the help and, what was probably not less effective, the encouragement of a Syracusan contingent of 4,000 men. Repeated assaults of the besiegers were repulsed with great slaughter, and the spirits of the defenders rose high. So great indeed was the confidence which they felt in their superiority to the enemy that they resolved to take the offensive. At dawn on the second day a body of 10,000 men sallied forth from the town and fiercely attacked the investing force. The Carthaginians were not prepared for any such action. Their first line was easily broken. The Greeks pursued the fugitives and inflicted upon them a heavy loss, killing, it is said by one writer, as many as 20,000 men. As this number would allow an average of two victims to each combatant, it may safely be rejected. The 6,000 given by a more sober historian is probably much nearer, though not under the number. But the easy success of the sally led to disaster. Hannibal was watching the affair from some elevated ground in the rear of the position, and he now moved forward. He found the Greeks exhausted and breathless, and after a fierce struggle drove them back. The main body reached the gates of Himera, though not without loss, but 3,000 men were isolated on the plain and perished to a man.

While the struggle was proceeding, a squadron of twenty-five ships of war arrived from Syracuse. Unfortunately they brought with them some alarming news. In passing the Carthaginian port of Motyé they had observed signs of preparation in the fleet. The explanation suggested and received was that the enemy were preparing to attack Syracuse. The captain of the Syracusan contingent, Diodes by name, was profoundly alarmed by this intelligence. The defence of Himera became a secondary consideration in view of what he believed to be the instant danger of Syracuse itself. He ordered the warships to return immediately. He even insisted on taking back the troops under his own command. The Himeræans remonstrated against this desertion, but remonstrated in vain. It could hardly be denied that Diocles was acting in the interest, at least in the immediate interest, of Syracuse. All that he would agree to, in the way of compromise, was that the ships should transport as many of the Himeræans as could be taken on board to Messana, which was about 150 miles distant (Syracuse was 100 miles further off), and that they should return with all speed to take away the remainder. Those who were left behind, or elected to remain, should do their best in the meantime to hold the city. As for Diocles, he marched away in such haste that he left the bodies of such of his own men as had fallen in the recent conflict unburied—the most shameful confession that a Greek general could make of weakness or defeat. The next day Hannibal renewed the attack. The brave Himeræans still repulsed him. For the whole of that day they were able to hold their own. If they could have maintained their resistance for yet another twelve hours, all might have been well, for the ships, which clearly could not have gone so far as Messana, were seen to be returning. But their strength was exhausted. A breach had been made in the walls, and the Spaniards, again showing their superiority over Hannibal's other troops, forced their way through it. A few of the Himeræans made their way to the ships; but the great mass of the population was either slain or captured. Hannibal, while giving up the spoil of the city without reserve to his soldiers, did his best to stop the massacre. But there was no mercy in his motives. The women and children were either distributed among the conquerors or sold as slaves. The male captives of full age, 3,000 in number, were taken to the precise spot where Hamilcar had been last seen alive, cruelly mutilated and slain. We read of many barbarous acts in Greek history, but of nothing so atrocious as this. If we can see but little trace of humanity, as we understand it, in the Greek character, the people had a sense of fitness, a restraining power of taste, if not of conscience, that forbad such horrors.

The danger that threatened civilisation must have seemed great at the time, though it was probably less than had been the case when the fate of the world, so to speak, had been in suspense on the day of Salamis. But the fears of Sicily, felt also, we may believe, in mainland Greece, were suddenly relieved. Hannibal had accomplished his object. He had exacted a never-to-be-forgotten vengeance for the death of his grandfather, and he wanted no more. Half Sicily was now in the hands of Carthage, and the Greek name was more humbled than it had been within the memory of man. He disbanded his army, and returned, laden with the spoils of war, to Carthage, where he was received with enthusiasm.

But the danger was only postponed. If Hannibal had been satisfied with the results of his campaign, Carthage was not. Its old ambition of dominating Sicily was revived, and for the next four years it made costly and incessant preparations for another invasion of the eastern or Greek portion of the island. Unfortunately the Sicilian Greeks spent the time, not in consolidating their strength, but in intestine strife. The most eminent citizen of Syracuse had made repeated attempts to establish a despotism. He had met with failure and death, but he left behind him a legacy of political hatred that might well have proved fatal to the State.

In 407 the hostile intention of Carthage became known to the Sicilian Greeks. They sent envoys to make a remonstrance, and to suggest a treaty of peace. No answer was given, and the preparations went on with unabated zeal.

In the following year the expedition sailed. Hannibal was again in command, but he shared his power with a young kinsman, Himilco by name. His force, on the most moderate computation, amounted to 120,000 men, with a fleet of 120 ships of war. It was in Agrigentum, to which the frontier of Greek Sicily had now been pushed back, that the storm was first to fall.

Agrigentum was a splendid city, second only to Syracuse in population, and not yielding even to it in magnificence and wealth. No city in the island or even in mainland Greece, Athens only excepted, could boast more stately temples and public buildings. Surrounded by a large and fertile territory, it carried on a profitable trade with the African coast. It could boast of one kind of wealth in which few Greek cities could vie with it—a noble breed of horses, which were seen at least as often in the front at the chariot-races of Olympia as the teams sent from Syracuse or Argos. Only two years before the time of which I am speaking an Agrigentine citizen had won the prize for four-horse chariots, and on his return home had been escorted from the frontier by three hundred private chariots each drawn by two white horses.

Agrigentum was built on a site naturally strong and had been skilfully fortified. It occupied a group, or rather part of a group, of hills which on all sides but one, the south-western, rose precipitously from the plain, so precipitously indeed that attack was impossible. On the north-east, crowning the height of the most lofty hill, was the citadel, approachable by one narrow path only.

While the fortifications were strong and well cared for, they were also adequately garrisoned. Besides a numerous force raised from her own citizens Agrigentum had in her pay eight hundred Campanian mercenaries, who three years before had served under Hannibal, and had thrown up their engagement dissatisfied with their pay. She had also secured the services of fifteen hundred other mercenaries who were under the command of Dexippus, a Spartan soldier of fortune. The citizens were confident in their ability to repel any attack that might be made on them. When Hannibal proposed a treaty of alliance, which, however, would permit Agrigentum to stand neutral in the approaching conflict, it was promptly rejected.

For a while all went well with the defence. Hannibal assaulted the town at the only point where an assault was possible, but accomplished nothing. He even lost his siege train, for the Agrigentines made a sally, captured, and burnt it. He then adopted the alternative plan of constructing a mound which would put the assailants on a level with the walls. The cemetery of Agrigentum was situated outside the walls in the same quarter as that which was the scene of the attack. Indeed, it was only here that there was any level space. Massive tombs of stone, in which reposed the remains of distinguished or wealthy Agrigentines of past days, abounded, and Hannibal, with the national carelessness of all religions other than his own, determined to make use of these materials for his siege work. His workmen had destroyed many of the tombs, and were busy with the most splendid of them all, that of Theron (tyrant of Agrigentum from 488 to 472) when a thunderbolt fell on the spot. This was regarded by the Carthaginians as a manifest token of the divine displeasure. The panic which followed largely increased the fatalities from a disease which now appeared in the camp. Thousands perished, Hannibal himself being one of the victims. It was not till various expiations, one of them a human sacrifice, had been made that Himilco, who now succeeded to the chief command, was able to resume the operations of the siege.

But fortune still seemed to favour the Greek cause. The other Greek cities had been actively employed in raising a relieving force. A Syracusan army, made up by contingents from Gela and Camarina to 30,000 foot and 5,000 horse, reached the Agrigentine territory. Himilco despatched a force of Spaniards and Italians to contest their further advance. After a fierce fight the Carthaginian mercenaries were broken, and compelled to retreat to their camp. Daphnæus of Syracuse, who was in chief command, possibly recollecting the disastrous result of the too vigorous pursuit of the enemy before Selinus, held back his men when they would have followed up the victory. The officers in command at Agrigentum were equally cautious. Their troops were eager to sally out from the gates and fall upon the flying mercenaries as they hurried past in disorder, but the generals absolutely refused their permission, and the opportunity of completely destroying the enemy—so at least the malcontents contended—was lost.

The allies now entered the town amidst general rejoicing. It was not long, however, before a discordant note was heard. Loud complaints were made of the supineness of the Agrigentine generals in allowing the enemy to escape. Some went so far as to suggest that a treasonable understanding existed between the Agrigentine generals and Himilco. A public assembly was hurriedly convened, and the accused generals were put upon their trials. The leader of the contingent from Camarina, Menes by name, ranged himself with the accusers. What evidence was brought against the generals we do not know. It is quite possible that there was nothing worthy of the name, for a Southern mob was ready then, as, indeed, it is now, to take its wildest guesses as truth. Anyhow their defence, whatever it was, availed nothing. Four out of the five were stoned to death, the fifth was allowed to escape in consideration of his youth. At the same time the Spartan Dexippus was severely censured.

This deplorable affair bears a curious resemblance to a well-known incident in Athenian history, which indeed almost coincided with it in time: the execution of the Athenian generals after the victory at Arginusæ, on the charge of having neglected to do all that was possible in saving the lives of the shipwrecked crews. It shows, as any one who tells the story of Greece has many occasions of showing, the dark side of free political life. For the time, however, no ill result seemed to follow, as far as the war was concerned. The tide of fortune still ran strongly against the invading army. Himilco had practically to raise the siege of Agrigentum, and was besieged in his own camp. This was too strongly fortified to be taken by assault, but it seemed in danger of being reduced by famine. Daphnæus was strong enough to cut off the supplies, and the Carthaginians were reduced to the greatest straits. Some of the mercenaries mutinied, and were with difficulty pacified by having handed over to them the plate which the wealthy Carthaginians who held high command in the army had brought with them. Then by a bold coup Himilco effected a total change in the situation. Agrigentum was mainly supplied from Syracuse, and towards the end of the year a fleet of transports carrying stores was on its way under the escort of some Syracusan ships-of-war. The Carthaginian fleet had been inactive since the beginning of the campaign, and the Greek commanders seem to have thought that it might safely be neglected. In this they were soon undeceived. A squadron of forty ships-of-war issued unexpectedly from Motyé, attacked the escorting ships, of which they destroyed eight, driving the rest ashore, and succeeded in capturing the whole of the convoy. The positions of the two armies were now reversed. The Carthaginians were possessed of abundance of supplies; the Greeks were threatened with famine. The mercenaries in the service of Dexippus approached him with a complaint. He was unable to satisfy them, and they marched away to Messana, alleging that the time for which they had been engaged was expired. The alarm caused by this desertion was great, and Dexippus took no pains to allay it. He had not forgotten the fate of the Agrigentine generals or the censure passed upon himself. The magistrates of Agrigentum instituted an inquiry into the condition and amount of the supplies still remaining in the city, and found that very little was left. They lost no time in deciding on a course of action. Agrigentum must be evacuated, and that at once. That very night all the population, except the sick and helpless, and a few patriots who preferred dying in their native city to leaving it, hurriedly fled to Gela, their rear being guarded by the Syracusan and Agrigentine troops. They escaped with their lives and with such property as they were able to carry off. Those that remained behind were slaughtered without mercy, unless they preferred to put an end to their own lives. Some had hoped to find safety in the temples, but the Carthaginians showed no respect for the sacred places of the city, which they plundered and destroyed as remorselessly as they did the secular.

But the tide of Carthaginian success had not yet reached its height. Two more Greek cities, Gela and Camarina, had to be evacuated. Practically Syracuse and Messana alone remained. If this success had been attained in 480 the prospect of European civilisation would have been dark indeed. Happily by this time Persia, Carthage's natural ally, had ceased to be formidable.

It would demand too much time, and would take me too far from my proper subject, if I were to relate in detail the history of the war. It can hardly be doubted that there had been much mismanagement on the part of the Syracusan generals. But all the mistakes which they made might have been repaired without serious loss to the State and to the welfare of the Greek race in Sicily, if it had not been for the unscrupulous ambition of a Syracusan citizen. A short time before the Carthaginian invasion there had been attempts on the part of one of the leaders of the aristocracy of Syracuse to make himself an absolute ruler. He perished in the enterprise, but his plan did not die with him. A certain Dionysius, who had married the daughter of the deceased man, now saw in the popular indignation against the incompetent generals an opportunity of securing his own ends. He brought about their condemnation, and procured his own election in their place. A crafty manœuvre enabled him to surround himself with a bodyguard. In the end he made himself master of the city. Ostensibly he was the chief citizen of the republic. The coins of Syracuse still bore the figure of the personified city, for Dionysius did not venture to put his own likeness upon them. But practically he was absolute. So far the success of the Carthaginian invasion had helped him. He would never have risen to supreme power had it not been for the terrible disasters which had overtaken Agrigentum, Camarina, and Gela, and had seemed to make him a necessary person. But he felt, of course, that Syracuse must not fall. Fortunately for his plans, he found that Himilco was not in a position to carry the war further. The Carthaginian army, loosely constituted of mercenaries gathered from many countries, had fallen into a disorganised condition. The sickness that had worked such havoc during the siege of Agrigentum had broken out again, and had claimed thousands of victims. Without much difficulty an agreement was arrived at. The Carthaginians were to keep all their former possessions and their recent acquisitions. Only Gela and Camarina might be reoccupied by their former inhabitants, on the condition of paying tribute. And—for here was the important article of the treaty—Syracuse was to be subject to Dionysius. Peace was concluded on these terms, and the Carthaginian army returned home, carrying back with it, we are told, the terrible disease which had wrought so much damage in Sicily.

FOOTNOTES:

[9] See p. 71.

[10] It may be as well to explain that our knowledge of this period is derived chiefly from Diodorus Siculus, a writer of the first century of our era. He was a native of Sicily, and while writing something like an Universal History, gave special attention to the affairs of his own country. He had before him, it would appear, two writers of much earlier date, both of them Sicilians. These were Ephorus, who was born about 404 B.C., and Timaeus, who was about half a century later. Fragments only of their works survive, but practically all that Diodorus tells us about Sicilian affairs comes from them. Some details we get from Plutarch.

III

DIONYSIUS THE TYRANT

We may feel pretty certain that neither of the two parties to the treaty which brought the war of 407-6 to an end had any intention of keeping it longer than it might suit his or their convenience. Dionysius had skilfully used the war to raise himself to despotic power; Carthage probably expected that once again, as so often before, the internal quarrels of the Greek people might give her the opportunity of some fresh aggrandisement. She had accomplished much in a few years, though not without severe losses. But these losses, after all, counted but for little. The blood of mercenaries was cheap. As long as the city's sources of income were untouched, she could reckon with certainty on gathering as many recruits from Africa, Spain, Italy, and the shores of the western Mediterranean as she might choose to pay for. She had therefore no small reason to believe that her long-cherished scheme of subjugating Sicily might be accomplished at no distant date.

Peace lasted for some eight years—years which Dionysius utilised to consolidate his power at home, and to extend his dominions abroad. He felt acutely the reproach levelled against him by his enemies that his power rested on Carthaginian support, and was anxious to remove it. In 397 he felt himself strong enough to act, and taking the people into his counsel, for he was careful to observe the forms of constitutional government, proposed to commence hostilities. No declaration of war was made, but the property of Carthaginian residents in Syracuse was given up to plunder, and the trading vessels in the harbour were seized as prizes. If Carthaginian wealth excited the cupidity of their Greek neighbours, so their oppressive rule and brutal manners were the objects of universal hatred. As soon as the news of what had been done in Syracuse with the consent, and, indeed, at the suggestion of, Dionysius spread through the Island, it was followed by a general massacre of the Carthaginian inhabitants. In all the cities which the late campaigns had left in a dependent or tributary condition there was a rising of the population against their Carthaginian masters, and a massacre followed not unlike that which was planned and partially carried out amongst the Danes of East Anglia on St. Brice's Day, 1006, A.D., or that which is known as the Sicilian Vespers in 1282. In a very short time the region actually held by Carthage in the Island did not extend beyond her strongholds on the western coast.

Dionysius followed up these proceedings by an ultimatum. Carthage might have peace if she would renounce her dominion over all the Greek cities; failing this, she must prepare for war. To such a demand there could be but one answer. Dionysius did not even wait for the inevitable negative, but marched with the whole military strength of the Island—never probably gathered in such strength or with such unanimity before—against the stronghold of Motyé. The Carthaginians resisted with an obstinacy which is characteristic of the Semitic race. One line of defence after another was stoutly maintained. When the walls had to be given up, the streets were barricaded. In this kind of fighting the Greeks lost heavily. At last a stratagem which is not without parallel in modern warfare proved effective. For some days in succession the assailants ceased fighting at sunset, the signal for recall being sounded on a trumpet. This came to be expected by the townspeople, who began to relax their watchfulness. But Dionysius prepared a picked force which was to make a night attack. This was done before the Motyans were aware of what had happened, and the town was taken. A massacre followed in which many were destroyed, though Dionysius did his best to stop it. He was certainly not specially humane, but he did not approve of the useless destruction of what, in the shape of slaves, might be valuable property. It is to be noted that the Greeks respected the lives of those who fled to the temples for protection. It shows them to have been on a somewhat higher plane of feeling than were the Carthaginians. The temples, it must be remembered, were those of Punic gods.

Carthage had no intention of allowing these attacks to pass without retaliation. A large force, amounting at the lowest estimate to 100,000 men, was levied in Africa and landed in Sicily, where it received an accession of another 30,000. Himilco, who had commanded in the last campaign, was made general-in-chief. He conceived a novel and bold plan of campaign. He marched to north-eastern Sicily, a part of the Island which up to that time had been exempt from attack. Messana was his objective point, and Messana was almost helpless. It had walls, indeed, but these were in repair so bad that they were useless for any real defence. And then a considerable part of the army was with Dionysius and the Syracusans. What was left boldly confronted the enemy in the field. Himilco did not offer them battle, but embarking a considerable force in the ships which moved along the coast as the enemy advanced, made a direct attack on the town. He calculated that the ships would outstrip the Messanian army, and he proved to be right. The Carthaginians found the place almost deserted, and simply poured into the town by the gaps in the walls. The forts he could not take. Some of the inhabitants were slain in a hopeless attempt to hold the town; some attempted the desperate expedient of swimming across the Strait of Scylla and Charybdis, whose terrors were not so formidable as the ferocity of the Carthaginians—out of two hundred swimmers fifty got safe to the Italian side. Messana gained, Himilco marched on Syracuse, intending to take Catana on his way. The army was to follow the line of the seashore; the fleet was to keep on a level with it. At Ætna a diversion had to be made. The volcano was in action, and the streams of lava that flowed down the eastern slope compelled the army to make a détour to the west. Dionysius thought he saw his opportunity in this division of the invading force. He put both his army and his fleet in motion, and proceeded to meet the enemy. Only the fleets, however, came into collision, and the result was a serious defeat of the Syracusans. The admiral, Leptines by name, had been strictly enjoined to be cautious; to keep his fleet in close order, and on no account to break the line. This tactic did not suit him. He attacked the enemy with a squadron of thirty quick-moving ships, at first with brilliant success. Then what the more prudent Dionysius had feared came to pass. Leptines could not hold his own against the overpowering numbers of the enemy. After some hours of fighting he had to make his escape with what ships were left to him. He had lost a hundred ships and, it was said, as many as twenty thousand men.

Dionysius had watched the disaster from the shore without being able to give any help to his comrades. The question what he was himself to do became urgent, His bolder counsellors urged him to give battle to Himilco. He was half disposed to follow their advice, but the risk seemed too great. It would be to hazard everything on one throw of the dice. He retreated on Syracuse, and took shelter within the walls. Himilco promptly followed. His army, said to have numbered 300,000, and certainly large, was easily able to invest the city on the landward side; his fleet filled the Great Harbour, though this had an area of nearly four square miles. The Syracusan army did not dare to leave the shelter of their walls; the fleet was glad to be protected by the defences of the Inner Harbour, a refuge which had never yet been entered by a foe. Never had the Greek race in Sicily been reduced to straits so desperate. Only one city remained to it, and this closely invested. Syracuse was like Jerusalem as Isaiah describes her in the height of the Assyrian invasion, "a cottage in a vineyard, a lodge in a garden of cucumbers."

Then the tide began to turn. The Syracusans obtained some successes at sea. Some corn ships carrying supplies to the Carthaginian camp were captured, and a squadron of men-of-war which attempted to recover them defeated with a loss of more than half its number, including the admiral's ship.

Then pestilence, an attack of bubonic plague if we are to judge from the description given of it, broke out in the camp. It was aggravated by religious terrors. Himilco had shown himself as careless about sacred things as his predecessor in command. He had broken down tombs to use their materials, and had plundered temples, one of them of especial sanctity, the shrine of Persephone, Queen of Hell, and her mother Demeter (the Ceres of Roman mythology). Thousands of men perished—the historians, dealing, as usual, in enormous figures, say one hundred and fifty thousand. The mortality was certainly great, and Dionysius did not fail to use his opportunity. He delivered simultaneous attacks by land and sea, and was successful in both. The fleet was nearly destroyed. Many ships were captured; many more were burnt. Part of the camp was taken. Dionysius took up his quarters at the close of the day near the temple of Zeus, in which Himilco had had his headquarters that very morning.

The Carthaginian general then opened secret negotiations with his antagonist. To tell the story in a few words, he purchased the safety of himself and the native Carthaginian officers in the army by a bribe of three hundred talents. The money went into the private coffers of Dionysius, and Himilco was allowed to escape with his countrymen, though some of the forty ships filled with the fugitives were captured. The Syracusan admiral, of course, knew nothing about the arrangement, and Dionysius, while he contrived to postpone, could not absolutely forbid pursuit. The mercenaries thus left to their fate had various fortunes. Dionysius took some of them into his own service; the native Sicilians contrived, for the most part, to escape unmolested to their own homes. A considerable number surrendered, and were sold as slaves. Himilco reached Carthage in safety, but could not endure the humiliating position in which he found himself. He blocked up the doors of his house, refused admittance to friends and kinsmen, even to his own children, and died by voluntary starvation.

Whether Carthage would have made any attempt to recover what had been lost, we cannot say. The events that followed made it impossible. Her African subjects revolted from her; her allies deserted her. For a few weeks she stood as much alone as Syracuse had stood a few weeks before. But the combination against her was not one that could hold together long. It soon began to fall to pieces, Carthage helping the process by heavily bribing the leaders. But her power was crippled for a time, and she had to be content with withdrawing her boundary line in Sicily to its old place in the western portion of the Island.

It would be tedious to follow in detail the wars of the next few years. War followed war; sometimes one party triumphed, sometimes another. We have just seen Carthage reduced again to the narrow limits within which she had been confined before 409. Then, twelve years afterwards (383), Dionysius is compelled, after a disastrous defeat at Cronium, at which he is said to have lost 14,000 men, to concede nearly half of the Island. In 368 again—our knowledge of these campaigns is sadly broken and confused—there is another change of fortune, a brilliant victory of Dionysius, followed, however, by a reverse, which had the effect of leaving things very much as they had been when the campaign began.

In 367 Dionysius died, after a reign of thirty-eight years. I am not concerned now with his character as a domestic ruler. In this respect his name is proverbial for a cruel tyranny, amply punished by the torturing suspicions with which the life of the tyrant was harassed. But it is impossible to deny his great merits as a soldier. He had faults, but he certainly supported the Greek cause in Sicily against the incessant attacks of a very powerful enemy. We shall see how much his abilities were missed when his power passed into the hands of a feebler successor.

IV

THE DELIVERER FROM CORINTH

The younger Dionysius was indeed wholly unequal to the position into which he was thrust by the accident of birth. He was entirely inexperienced in government, for his father had jealously excluded him from all share in public affairs, and he had little capacity for learning the art of rule when he found himself under the necessity of practising it. Some ability he had, but it was not in the direction of politics. In this direction he seems to have had few ideas beyond securing his own safety and getting as much enjoyment as possible out of the opportunities of power. The history of his reign may be told in a very few words. He held the power inherited from his father during a period of fourteen years. Then he was expelled from Syracuse, but contrived to establish himself at Locri, with which city he was connected through his mother. After the lapse of ten years he regained possession of Syracuse. But his power was not secure, and he could not spare any thought or energy for the general interests of the Island. The other Sicilian cities were no better off. Carthage, of course, made use of the opportunity thus given, and steadily increased her power. The situation became so threatening in 344 that some Syracusan exiles bethought them of invoking the aid of Corinth, their mother city. Corinth acceded to their request, but rather by way of permission than of giving active help. No expedition was sent by the State. But a general was nominated and appointed at a public assembly; Corinthian citizens were allowed to volunteer for service. Finally seven ships were sent by the State, two being added to this number by Corcyra, another Corinthian colony, and one by Leucadia, also Corinthian in origin. But the greater part of the force that was raised were mercenaries. Something must be said about the general, who was one of the most remarkable figures in Greek history.

Timoleon was a noble citizen of Corinth who had saved the liberties of his country by a terrible sacrifice. His elder brother Timophanes, an able and unscrupulous soldier, had established himself as a despot by help of a band of mercenaries who had been hired for the protection of the city against the threatened danger of Athenian invasion. Timoleon remonstrated with him, but in vain. Then he resolved to free his country at any cost. He communicated his intention to two, one account says three, friends. They went together and asked for an interview with Timophanes. Timoleon addressed another appeal to his brother, and was contemptuously repulsed. His companions then drew their swords, for, thanks to their introducer, they had been permitted to enter the tyrant's presence with arms, and put Timophanes to death. Timoleon took no part in the deed, but stood apart, his face covered with his mantle and weeping bitterly. The act met with enthusiastic approval from the great majority of Corinthian citizens. Some who had looked for some personal gain from the favour of the despot, and in their hearts regretted his death, pretended to be shocked by the way in which it had been brought about. To Timoleon himself the event was the cause of the deepest and most permanent sorrow. He shut himself up in his house, took no part in public affairs, and refused the visits of his friends. The arrival of the Syracusan exiles delivered him from this miserable existence. At the Assembly held for the appointment of a general, name after name had been proposed in vain. The internal dissensions of Syracuse were so notorious at Corinth that no one was willing to undertake the thankless task of intervening in its affairs. Unexpectedly some one in the Assembly—it was thought at the time by a divine inspiration—proposed the name of Timoleon. It was received with general acclamation, and Timoleon thankfully accepted the post. He contrived to elude the Carthaginian squadron which was sent to watch him, and reached Sicily. Some four years were spent in restoring order and freedom in the Greek cities. For some reason with which we are not acquainted, Carthage did not interfere with him whilst so engaged. War is said to have been precipitated by a violation of the Carthaginian territory. That it would certainly have broken out sooner or later may safely be affirmed.

Carthage evidently made a great effort to bring the war to a successful issue. She seems to have been aware that circumstances were unusually favourable, for the Greek cities of Sicily had never before been in so deplorable a condition of weakness. It was, indeed, a happy thing for the cause of freedom that so exceptionally able a man as Timoleon had the conduct of affairs. The army landed at Lilybæum, under the command of Hasdrubal and Hamilcar, numbered 70,000. Of these, not less than 10,000 were native Carthaginians. Carthage was always sparing of the blood of her own citizens, preferring to buy even at lavish prices the valour and skill which she needed. On this occasion she raised an unprecedently large native force. They were equipped, too, in the most costly fashion. Each soldier was clothed in complete armour, much heavier and, therefore, more impenetrable than that usually worn. Each, too, had an elaborately ornamented breastplate. A corps d'élite, numbering 2,500, was the nucleus of the force. A fleet of two hundred ships of war accompanied the army, whose needs were supplied by a vast multitude of nearly a thousand transports. One important item in the war material was a number of chariots. The personal effects of the Carthaginian soldiers, many of whom belonged to the wealthiest families in the city, splendid tents and rich goblets and other plate for the table, were costly in the extreme.

Timoleon could not raise more than 12,000 men. He had 3,000 Syracusan citizens, an unknown number, possibly about 6,000, of volunteers from other Greek cities, and a force of mercenaries. His cavalry numbered one thousand. But he could not keep with him even the whole of these. When he had nearly reached the border of the Carthaginian territory there was a mutiny among the mercenaries. Their pay was considerably in arrears, and one of their officers took advantage of this fact to rouse them against the commander-in-chief. "He is taking you," he said, "on a desperate errand. You will have to encounter an enemy who can match every one of our soldiers with six of his own. And he does not even pay you your wages." Never did the strong personality of Timoleon show itself to more advantage. The mutineers got, in a way, all they wanted. They were sent back to Syracuse with instructions to the authorities at home that they were to be paid off at once, whatever it might cost to raise the money.[11] This concession seemed to put a premium on mutiny. Nevertheless, Timoleon by his personal influence succeeded in checking the movement. The troops that were left, when the discontented element was removed, followed him with unabated loyalty and courage. Marching westward into the heart of the Carthaginian territory, he reached the stream known as the Crimessus.[12] If he had before to contend against the avarice of his soldiers, he had now to deal with their fears. The army was encountered by some mules carrying loads of parsley. The men were dismayed at what they took as an unlucky omen, for parsley was commonly used for the garlands that are placed on tombs. Timoleon was equal to the occasion. "With this," he cried, seizing a sprig of the herb, "we crown our conquerors in the Isthmian Games at home. It is our symbol of victory," and he put a chaplet on his own head and adorned his officers in the same way. The Greek army had now reached the brow of the hill which forms the eastern bank of the valley of the Crimessus. The whole country was covered with a mist, but there came up from the valley beneath a confused sound as of a great host in motion. Suddenly the mist lifted, and Timoleon saw below him the great Carthaginian army. The war-chariots had already crossed the river and were drawn up on the eastern shore; the Carthaginian infantry, in their splendid armour, were in the very act of the passage; pressing on their rear in a disorderly crowd was a multitude of mercenaries and native African levies. Timoleon saw his opportunity, and promptly seized it. He could never have so good a chance of delivering a successful attack on the enemy as when they were thus divided, some being actually in the river and some on the further shore. After a brief exhortation to his men, he led them down the steep slope to the river. The cavalry went first, and charged the native Carthaginians, who were just struggling out of the river and forming themselves in line on the bank. But for a time they charged in vain. Indeed, they had to do their best to save themselves from being broken up, for the chariots were driven furiously backwards and forwards among them. They could hardly keep their own lines; on the lines of the enemy they made no impression. Timoleon then changed his plan. Recalling the cavalry, he sent it to operate on the flank of the enemy, while he proceeded to lead his infantry to a front attack. He took his shield from the attendant that carried it, and bade his men follow him. "He shouted to the infantry to be of good cheer and follow him," says Plutarch, "in a voice much louder than was his natural wont." It may have been the excitement of the conflict that lent it such a power, but the common belief at the time was "that something divine was speaking through him." The work that they had to do required no little enthusiasm of courage. The Carthaginians were stout soldiers and splendidly armed. The spear availed little against them; the Greeks had to get under their guard and assail them with the sword. At this critical point of the battle something happened which convinced Timoleon's soldiers that their leader had powers more than mortal on his side. The mist that had cleared away from the valley, and risen to the hilltop, now seemed to descend again in a furious storm. Besides the sound and sight of the thunder and the lightning—and there were but few spirits in that day hardy enough to despise these terrors—there was a blinding storm of rain and hail driven fiercely by a tempestuous wind into the faces of the Carthaginians. To the Greeks, who had it behind them, it caused little inconvenience. And then the river began to rise. The Carthaginians began to stagger under the weight of their heavy armour and saturated clothing, and when once a man had fallen there was no hope of his rising again. It was not long before the four hundred picked soldiers who formed the front ranks were cut down. These champions gone, the rest broke up and attempted to flee. This was almost impossible. Many were slain in the attempt; many others were drowned; and there were thousands of prisoners. Never before had such a blow fallen on Carthage. She lost, not as usual, the mercenaries whom it was easy to replace as long as her wealth held out, but her noblest sons. On the other hand, the Greeks, besides winning a very complete victory, gathered a spoil more magnificent than the most experienced campaigner had ever seen.

Timoleon holding the Ford of the Crimessus.

Timoleon had not yet finished his work. He had still to put down the despots whose thrones were propped up by the power of Carthage, and Carthage was not inclined to give up her position in Sicily. In the course of the next year, however, the despots were all destroyed, and Carthage was glad to conclude a peace. By this she bound herself to keep to the western side of the Halycus (Platani) and not to interfere with the internal affairs of the Greek cities.

It is needless to continue in detail the story of the conflict between Greece and Carthage. The result was practically fixed by the victory of Timoleon at the Crimessus. Carthage did not indeed altogether abandon her ambition. She still coveted Sicily, still hoped, it may be, to acquire it, and came, once at least, as near to attaining to this end as she had ever done before. In 309 B.C. Syracuse had again lost the freedom which Timoleon had given back to her, and had fallen under the domination of one of the ablest and most unscrupulous in the long list of Sicilian tyrants, Agathocles. This man provoked a war with Carthage, but found himself unequal to his antagonist, and after a series of defeats was shut up in Syracuse. This city was, as it had been eighty-odd years before, the only place in the Island which the Greeks could call their own. Then Agathocles conceived a daring scheme. He would transfer the war to Africa, and attack Carthage at home, where, as he shrewdly perceived, her weakest points were to be found. An invader could always reckon upon the sympathy and support of the subject races, which suffered from the exacting rule of the Carthaginian government. Agathocles carried out his plan, and for a time achieved a brilliant success. He afterwards met with reverses, but his main object, the rescue of Sicily, was fully achieved.

Agathocles died in 289 B.C. Pyrrhus, King of Epirus, famous for the victories which he won over Rome, was the next to take up the part of the leader of the Sicilian Greeks in their long struggle with Carthage. He accomplished little. In fact he spent two years only in the Island. The most memorable incident of his stay was that Carthage offered him alliance on most advantageous terms, and that he refused it unless she would agree to evacuate the Island. This was an honourable action, for the offer would have given him a most important advantage in the renewed attack upon Rome which he was planning. But the Sicilian Greeks showed little gratitude for his self-denial; in fact, they became so hostile that he had no alternative left him but to leave the Island. "How fair a wrestling-ring," he is reported to have said as he took his last look of Sicily, "are we leaving to Rome and Carthage!" With this departure of Pyrrhus, Greece, we may say, disappears from the scene, and Rome takes her part. Pyrrhus left Sicily in 276, and Rome came for the first time into collision with Carthage twelve years afterwards in what is called the First Punic War. These wars will be the subject of my Fourth Book.

FOOTNOTES:

[11] It is difficult not to feel a certain satisfaction at knowing that the mutineers came to a bad end. They had a disreputable record, for they had taken the pay of the Phocians, knowing that it had been provided out of the sacred treasures of the temple at Delphi. On receiving their arrears they sailed to Southern Italy, where they attempted to form a settlement, were entrapped by the native inhabitants, and perished to a man.

[12] It is uncertain where this stream is to be located. Some geographers (Sir E. Bunbury among them, in the "Dictionary of Classical Geography") suppose it to be a little river that flows into the sea near Castellamare; by others it is identified with one that has its mouth on the south coast of the island, a few miles to the east of Selinus. This is the view taken by the author of the map recently published by Mr. John Murray, where the name is given to one of the upper tributaries of the Hypsas, now known as the Belici.

BOOK III

GREECE AND PERSIA. THE ATTACK

I. THE FIGHT ON THE RIVER

All danger to Greece from Persian attack, so far as the mainland and the islands in the Ægean were concerned, practically ceased with the victory of Mycalé. But the Greek cities in Asia Minor were not safe. In the years 466-5 B.C. Cimon, son of Miltiades, the hero of Marathon, conducted operations in South-Western Asia Minor, which had for their object the expulsion of the Persians from certain Greek settlements in that region. In 450 a formal convention was made which brought to an end, it may be said, the first act of the drama. The great king bound himself to leave the Asiatic Greeks free and untaxed, and not to send troops within a certain distance of the coast; Athens, on the other hand, agreed to leave Persia in undisturbed possession of Cyprus (though this island had a large Greek population) and of Egypt.

The next period was one in which the relations of Persia and Greece were largely determined by the exigencies of Greek politics. The two great rivals for supremacy, Athens and Sparta, found Persian help, especially in the shape of gold, very useful; and Persia, for her own purposes, played off the two against each other. There is an amusing scene in Aristophanes which illustrates this state of affairs. A pretended Persian envoy is introduced to the Assembly. He wears a mask which is made of one big eye, in token that he is the King's Eye, and mutters some gibberish which his introducer interprets as a promise to send some gold. The scene goes on:—

"Tell them about the gold; speak louder and more plainly."

The Eye spoke again: "Gapey Greeks, gold a fooly jest."

"That is plain enough," cried a man in the Assembly.

Ambassador. "Well, what do you make of it?"

Citizen. "Why, that it is a foolish jest for us Greeks to think that we shall get any gold."

Amb. "You're quite wrong. He didn't say 'jest' but 'chest.' We are to get chests of gold."

Cit. (turning to the Eye). "Now listen to me; is the king going to send us any gold?"

Eye shakes his head.

Cit. "Are the ambassadors cheating us?"

Eye nods.

Cit. "Well, anyhow the creature knows how to nod in the right way."

This humiliating state of things reached its worst in 387 B.C., when what was called the Peace of Antalcidas was concluded between Persia and Sparta. It is enough to quote one clause from the treaty, which, it should be said, all the Greek States agreed to accept.

"King Artaxerxes thinks it just that the cities in Asia and the islands of Clazomenæ and Cyprus should belong to him. He thinks it just also to have all the other Hellenic cities autonomous, both small and great, except Lemnos, Imbros, and Scyros, which are to belong to Athens as they originally did. Should any parties refuse to accept this peace, I will make war upon them, along with those of the same mind, by land as well as by sea, with ships and with money."

It looked as if all that had been won at Marathon and Salamis had been lost, and Persia had become the arbiter of the fate of Greece. The Asiatic Greeks did lose what had been gained for them, for they fell again under the power of Persia. But these evils worked, in a way, their own cure. The States which had abused their power for selfish purposes fell, one after another, into the background, and others, which had not exhausted themselves in futile struggles for supremacy, came to the front. One of the claims which these new representatives of Greek feeling put forward was the resolve to exact vengeance—for this was the common form which the idea took—for the wrongs which Persia had done to Greece. At the same time there had been various revelations of the real weakness of the gigantic Empire which stretched from the Mediterranean to the Indian Ocean. The Expedition of the Ten Thousand, though it had failed of its immediate object of dethroning one prince in favour of another, had shown the immense superiority of the Greek race over its ancient enemy. Ten thousand men had marched into the very heart of Persia without meeting with a check, and had made their way back again under circumstances of almost incredible difficulty, without suffering anything like disaster. Jason, tyrant of Pheræ in Thessaly (d. 370 B.C.) was the first, as far as we know, to form a definite scheme for the invasion of Persia. Thessaly I have had occasion but once only to mention. This was in describing the battle of Platæa, when some cavalry from this region did good service to the Persians. It is strange to find in it the first advocate of what we may call the anti-Persian Crusade. But Jason had not the means to carry out so important a scheme. Anyhow, his career was cut short by assassination.

About a quarter of a century later we find the idea further developed. Its exponent is now the greatest rhetorician of the time, and the champion whose services are invoked is Philip of Macedon. About 346 B.C. Isocrates addressed a letter to Philip, who had recently been made president of the Amphictyonic Council, suggesting to him that he should reconcile the Greek States to each other and with their help wage war against Persia. The counsel was not offered, we may be sure, without a previous assurance that it would be welcome to the prince to whom it was given. Philip certainly cherished some such purpose. This was the ultimate object which he set before himself in his struggle for supremacy in Greece. He even went so far as to make definite preparations for the enterprise. It may well be doubted whether he had genius enough for so gigantic an enterprise. It was not put to the test. His career also was cut short by the sword of the assassin. He was slain in 336 B.C., in the forty-seventh year of his age. Able as he was, he left a still abler successor the inheritance of his preparations and his plans.

Alexander, who at his father's death was not quite twenty, had first to consolidate his position. He began by crushing his barbarous neighbours in the north; he then stamped out a rebellion in Greece. This done he turned his attention to preparing his great plan. All was ready in less than two years.

In April, 334, Alexander crossed the Hellespont into Asia. He had about 35,000 men with him, one-seventh being cavalry. Marching slowly eastwards, he came, a few weeks later (May 25th), on the Persian army, which was encamped on the eastern bank of the Granicus, a small stream which flows down from the Ida range into the Sea of Marmora. Of the Persian strength differing accounts are given. The total probably exceeded that of Alexander's army. The proportion of cavalry to infantry was certainly much larger. The front line, indeed, which held the bank of the river, consisted wholly of this arm. On the right were the Medes and Bactrians, wearing the national dress, a round-topped cap, gaily-coloured tunic, and scale armour. In the centre, similarly accoutred, were the Paphlagonians and Hyrcanians; on the right was a small body of Greek horse, and the Persian cavalry proper, largely made up of men who claimed descent from the Seven Deliverers, the little company of nobles who delivered Persia from the sway of the false Smerdis.[13] Here Memnon, the Rhodian, the ablest counsellor of King Darius, was in command. The infantry, both Asiatic and Greek, was posted in reserve, on the rising ground which marked the limit of the winter floods. The river was now flowing within its banks, but with a full, strong stream.

Alexander, who was mounted on his famous charger Bucephalus, rode along the line, addressing a few words of encouragement to each squadron and company as he passed it, and finally placed himself at the head of the right division of the army. As soon as the Persian leaders perceived his intention, they began to reinforce their own left. The fame of the king's personal prowess had not failed to reach them, and they knew that the fiercest struggle would be where he might be in immediate command. Alexander saw the movement and the opportunity which it offered him. He would have his antagonists at a disadvantage if he could catch them in the confusion of a change. Accordingly he ordered the whole line to advance, the right division being thrown somewhat forward. Here was a famous corps d'élite, a heavy cavalry regiment that went under the name of the "Royal Companions." This was the first to enter the river. A number of javelin-throwers and archers, on either side, covered their advance; they were supported by some light horse and a regiment of light infantry.

The van of the attacking force made its way across the stream in fair order. The river-bed was rough, full of great stones brought down by floods and with here and there a dangerously deep hole, but there was no mud or treacherous sand. The first assault was checked. A line of dismounted troopers stood in the water, wherever it was shallow enough to allow it; on the bank itself was a mass of horsemen, two or three files deep. The combatants below plied their swords; those on the higher ground showered javelins on the advancing foe. Only a few of these could struggle up the somewhat steep bank; of the few some were slain, others thrust back upon the troops that followed them. The attack seemed to have failed. But when the king himself took up the attack the fortunes of the day were rapidly changed. For the first of many times throughout his marvellous career the personal courage of Alexander, his strength, his dexterity in arms, turned the tide of battle. He was a matchless soldier as well as a matchless general, and seemed to combine the old soldiership and the new, the personal prowess of an Achilles and the tactical skill of an Epaminondas. He sprang forward, rallying, as he advanced, his disheartened troops, struck down adversary after adversary, and climbed the bank with astonishing agility. The example of such a leader seemed to give the Companions an irresistible strength. In a few minutes the bank of the Granicus was won. But the battle was not yet over. The Persians had been beaten back from their first line of defence; but they still held the level ground, and till the whole of the Greek army had crossed the stream they had a great superiority in numbers, enabling them to deliver charges which the weight of men and horses might well have made irresistible. Again Alexander was in the thick of the conflict. His pike had been broken in the struggle for the bank. He asked his orderly for another. The man showed him his own broken weapon. Then the king looked round to his followers, holding high the splintered shaft. The appeal was answered in an instant. It was a Corinthian, Demaratus by name, who answered his call and supplied him with a fresh lance. It was not done a moment too soon. The Persian cavalry charged in a heavy column, its leader, Mithradates, son-in-law to King Darius, riding a long way in front of his men. Alexander spurred his horse, charged at Mithradates with levelled pike, struck him in the face, and hurled him dying to the ground. Meanwhile another Persian noble had ridden up. He struck a fierce blow at Alexander with his scymetar, but missing his aim in his excitement, did nothing more than shear off the crest of the helmet. Alexander replied with a thrust which broke through his breastplate and inflicted a mortal wound. There was a third antagonist behind, but his arm was severed by a sword-cut from a Macedonian officer just as he was in the act of delivering a blow. The struggle, however, was continued with unabated fury. It was not till almost every leader had fallen that the Persian cavalry gave way.

Elsewhere in the field the victory was more easily won. The élite of the Persian army had been brought together to oppose Alexander, and the remainder did not hold their ground with equal tenacity. When the phalanx had made its way across the river, and reformed itself again on the eastern bank, it encountered no opposition.

There still remained, however, a force to be dealt with which, had it been properly handled, might have been found a serious difficulty for the conquerors. The infantry, as has been said, was posted in reserve, and of this force not less than a half, numbering as many as ten thousand, consisted of Greek mercenaries. These had remained in absolute inaction, idly watching the struggle on the level ground below. They had no responsible leaders; no orders had been issued to them. The Persian generals, confident in the strength of their special arm, the cavalry, neglected to make any use of this invaluable force. And yet they might have known what ten thousand Greeks, well led, could do! Alexander came up and charged the unprotected flank of the Greek force. "He had the defects of his virtues," and was too eager in "drinking the delight of battle." His charger—not the famous Bucephalus, which had fallen lame, but another horse—was killed under him. The light infantry also delivered an attack, but the mercenaries still held their ground. But when the phalanx came up, their strength or their courage failed. The front ranks were crushed by the advance of the ponderous machine, and the rest first wavered, then broke up in hopeless confusion. Not less than half of their number were killed in their places or in the attempt to escape. The rest were either admitted to quarter, or contrived to make their way to some place of safety.

FOOTNOTES:

[13] Cambyses, in a fit of frantic jealousy—so the story ran—had put his brother Smerdis to death. Cambyses died in Egypt. The magi, Median soothsayers and priests, contrived that one of their number should personate the murdered prince. After he had occupied the Persian throne for a few months, seven nobles conspired against him and slew him. One of the seven, Darius, became king; the others were rewarded by perpetual immunity from taxes, for themselves and their descendants, and other privileges.

II

THE IRRESISTIBLE PHALANX

The eighteen months that followed the battle of the Granicus Alexander spent in Asia Minor. A few strong places resisted him, but on the whole he met with little opposition. On the other hand, he did not move very quickly. At Gordium, in Phrygia, he gave his army a long rest, and at Tarsus, in Cilicia, he was detained against his will by a severe illness, contracted, it was said, by bathing in the ice-cold waters of the Cydnus. Meanwhile Darius had been gathering together from all parts of the Empire a vast army which would be sure, he thought, to crush the invader. So confident did he feel that he did not attempt to check Alexander's advance. He left the strong passes into Cilicia undefended. He did the same with the passes from Cilicia into Syria. He desired nothing better than that the enemy should come to close quarters with him. His original plan was to wait for the Macedonian army at a place named Sochi, where there was a great expanse of level ground. Then he began to fear that Alexander might after all escape him. He left Sochi, and marched by one of the passes of Mons Amanus (Sáwur Dagh) to Issus, where he would be in the rear of the enemy, and so be able to cut off the retreat which he believed would be attempted. Alexander, who had in the highest degree the faculty of guessing what his antagonist was thinking, saw his advantage. At Issus, Darius could not make use of his numbers, and so might be attacked with good hope of success. He made a night march, recrossed into Cilicia, and fought at Issus the second of his great battles.

Darius took up his position on the north bank of the River Pinarus (Deli Tschai). The centre of his line of battle was composed of 90,000 heavy-armed infantry, drawn up in three bodies of 30,000 each. One of these consisted of Greek mercenaries, and occupied the middle place; on either side were the other two—Asiatics armed in Greek fashion. His own place was behind the Greeks. It was in them that he really trusted, though he had violently resented the suggestion when it was made by another. Some weeks before, when reviewing the army with which he was about to encounter Alexander, he had asked for the opinion of Charidemus, an Athenian exile, who was in attendance on him. Charidemus was bidden to speak his mind freely, and he was imprudent enough to take the king at his word. The substance of his advice to the king was not to trust Asiatics, but to spend his accumulated treasure in hiring Greeks. Darius was deeply offended, and the great nobles about him were furious with rage. Charidemus was put to death, but his advice must have been followed. The cavalry was massed on the right wing—that end of the line which was nearest to the sea, for there alone was there any ground suitable for their action. On the left wing, reaching far up the mountain-side, were twenty thousand light-armed infantry, who were to throw themselves on the flank of the Macedonians as soon as these should attempt to cross the river. Behind this line of battle, numbering, it is probable, not less than 120,000 men, stood a mixed multitude, swept together from all the provinces of the vast Persian Empire. This mass of combatants, if combatants they can be called, already unwieldy, received the addition of 50,000 troops, who had been posted on the southern bank of the river to cover the operation of forming the Persian line, and who were brought back when the formation was completed. The ground had been over-crowded before, and this addition to the numbers of the second line only made it more hopelessly unmanageable.

Alexander put his light infantry on the extreme right of his line, opposite, it will be remembered, to a similar force in the Persian array. Here also was the cavalry regiment of the "Companions," and with them some Thessalian horse. The main line was composed of the phalanx in five divisions, the fifth, on the extreme left, being close to the sea, which was little more than a mile and a half from the foot of the mountains—so narrow was the space which Darius had chosen for a battlefield. He could have done nothing better calculated to destroy any advantage that might have been given by his vast superiority in numbers. On the left were some squadrons of Greek cavalry, and bodies of light-armed troops from Crete and Thrace.

On coming in sight of the enemy Alexander made some changes in the disposition of his forces. The most important of these was to transfer some light infantry, cavalry, and archers to act against the 20,000 Persians who had been so placed as to threaten his right flank. It was a wise precaution, but, as a matter of fact, it was not needed. The Persians made no move, and Alexander soon perceived that they might be safely neglected. He left a few hundred cavalry to watch them, and placed the rest of the force destined for this service in his main line.

A brief time was allowed for rest when the river was reached. It was well, too, to wait for a possible forward movement on the part of the Persians. The confidence that had prompted the march to Issus might also prompt an attack. But the Persian line remained in its place, and Alexander crossed the stream. He had with him his light infantry, not slingers and archers, it should be explained, but regular soldiers, with armour and weapons so modified as to enable them to move quickly, the "Companions," and two divisions of the phalanx. The phalanx was drawn up in companies each sixteen deep. All the soldiers were armed with a pike (sarissa), which was twenty-one feet in length. The pikes of the front rank projected fifteen feet, the other end being weighted so that the weapon could be held without difficulty. The pikes of the second rank projected twelve feet, of the third, nine, of the fourth, six, of the fifth, three. The other ranks held their pikes in a slanting direction over the shoulders of those who stood in front. Alexander led the attack, as usual, in person. The Macedonians, moving as quickly as the phalanx could go, fell upon the Asiatic heavy-armed, who occupied the left division of the main Persian line. They were mainly Carduchi, the Kurds of to-day, better hands, it would seem, then as now, at plundering than at fighting. The Carduchi gave way, not waiting for the Macedonians to come to close quarters with them. Their flight endangered the safety of the king, or, rather, the king himself believed that it was endangered. He bade his charioteer turn the horses' heads and fly. As long as the ground allowed he kept to the chariot; when it became too rough he sprang upon a horse, and fled in such haste that he threw away his royal mantle, his bow, and his shield. The mixed multitude that stood behind the main line of Persian battle, as soon as they saw the king quit the field, fled, or, rather, attempted to fly. But, so narrow was the space in which they had been crowded together, they could scarcely move. A scene of frightful terror and confusion followed. The fugitives struggled fiercely with each other in the frantic attempt to escape. Had they shown as much energy in resisting the enemy as in thrusting aside and trampling down their friends, they might have changed the fortune of the day. In less than half an hour from the time when Alexander crossed the Pinarus the left wing of the Persian host was a hopeless mass of confusion.

The Battle of Issus.

Yet the Persians had a still unbroken strength with which much might have been done, if only there had been a leader to make use of it. The Greeks in the centre stood their ground bravely. They even advanced, charged the left divisions of the phalanx, which had not completed the passage of the Pinarus, and inflicted some loss upon it, killing as many as 150 of the front rank men, and the officer in command. But by themselves they could not hope to hold the field. When Alexander, wheeling round after his victorious assault on the Persian right, attacked them in flank, they were forced to give way. But they retired in good order, and the main body of them made good their escape. The Persian cavalry, too, had shown themselves not altogether unworthy of their ancient renown. They had actually crossed the Pinarus, and charged the Thessalian horse, which had been transferred, it should be said, by Alexander from the right to the left of his army. In the combat that ensued they held their own. But their courage failed when they became aware of the flight of Darius. When their king had given up the struggle what was there for them to stay for? To him they were bound, but they had no conception of a country to whose service it was their duty to devote their lives. They fled, suffering greatly in the pursuit.

The Macedonians lost 450 in killed, Alexander himself being slightly wounded. The slaughter among the Persians cannot be estimated. It was put down at more than 100,000. Ptolemy, afterwards King of Egypt, who was one of Alexander's most trusted generals, declared that he found a ravine so choked with dead bodies that he could use them as a bridge. Ptolemy kept a diary of the war, which he afterwards embodied in a regular narrative. Arrian, who wrote the story of Alexander's campaign in the second century of our era, had this work before him.

III

THE ARMY OF THE HUNDRED PROVINCES

During the twenty months which followed the victory of Issus, Alexander continued to make fresh conquests and to consolidate those already made. He subdued Syria—a name which must be taken to include both Phœnicia and Palestine. Here the two cities of Tyre and Gaza made an obstinate resistance, the two detaining him for no less than nine months. Egypt, which hated its intolerant Persian masters, gave itself up without a struggle. Early in 331 he heard that Darius had collected another huge army, with which to make another effort for his kingdom. The king had lost the western half of his dominions, but the eastern still remained to him, and from this he drew forces which exceeded in number even the great host which he had put into the field at Issus. The meeting-place was at Arbela, a place still known by the slightly changed name of Erbil, and situated on the caravan-route between Erzeroum and Bagdad; but the actual battlefield must be looked for some twenty miles away in a level region known by the name of Gaugamela.

On the extreme right were the Medes, once the ruling people of Asia and still mindful of their old renown, the Parthian cavalry, and the sturdy mountaineers of the Caucasus; on the opposite wing were the Bactrians—mostly hardy dwellers in the hills, and famous both for activity and for fierceness—and the native Persians, horse and foot, in alternate formation. But it was in the centre of the line, round the person of Darius, where he stood conspicuous on his royal chariot, that the choicest troops of the Empire were congregated. Here were ranged the Persian Horseguards—a force levied from the noblest families of the race that had ruled Western Asia for more than two centuries. They were known by the proud title of "Kinsmen of the King," and the Footguards, also a corps d'élite, who carried apples at the butt-end of their pikes. Next to these stood the Carians, probably a colony from the well-known people of that name in Asia Minor, possibly transported by some Persian king to a settlement in the East. Of all Asiatic races the Carians had shown themselves the most apt to learn the Greek discipline and to rival Greek valour. Next to the Carians, again, stood the Greek mercenaries.

In front of the line were the scythed chariots, numbering two hundred in all, each with its sharp-pointed sides projecting far beyond the horses, and its sword-blades and scythes stretching from the yoke and from the naves of the wheels. (This is the first time that we hear of the scythed chariot. It was a device of a barbarian kind, and seldom, as far as we know, very effective.) Behind the line, again, was a large mixed multitude, drawn from every tribe that still owned the Great King's sway.

Alexander saw that this time he had a formidable enemy to deal with. He had an entrenched camp constructed, as possibly useful in case of a reverse, and he consulted his generals—a course which he seldom followed—as to how an attack might be most advantageously delivered. But when one of his most experienced officers suggested an assault by night, he emphatically rejected the idea. It was, he declared, an unworthy stratagem; victory so won would be worse than defeat. A more powerful reason was probably the danger of such an attempt. A night attack is always a desperate device.

The first day after coming in sight of the enemy Alexander spent in preparation and consultation. On the morrow he drew out his order of battle. As usual he put himself at the head of the right wing. This was made up of the "Companions," the light infantry, and three out of the six divisions of the phalanx. The left wing, if it may be so called, for there was no centre, consisted of the rest of the phalanx, with a body of cavalry from the allied Greek states.

And now, for the first time, Alexander had a second line in reserve. His numbers were considerably increased, the 35,000 with which he had crossed into Asia having now mounted up to nearly 50,000. And the nature of the battlefield made such an arrangement necessary. The enemy had an enormously superior force and it was necessary to guard against attacks on the flank and the rear. The second line consisted of the light cavalry, the Macedonian archers, contingents from some of the half-barbarous tribes which bordered on Macedonia, some veteran Greek mercenaries and other miscellaneous troops. Some Thracian infantry were detached to guard the camp and the baggage.

The Persians, with their vastly larger numbers, were, of course, extended far beyond the Macedonian line. Left to make the attack, they might easily have turned the flank, or even assailed the rear of their opponents. Alexander, seeing this, and following the tactics which had twice proved so successful, took the offensive. He put himself at the head of the "Companions," who were stationed, as has been said, on the extreme right, and led them forward in person, still keeping more and more to the right, and thus threatening the enemy with the very movement which he had himself reason to dread. He thus not only avoided the iron spikes, which, as a deserter had warned him, had been set to injure the Macedonian cavalry, but almost got beyond the ground which the Persians had caused to be levelled for the operations of their chariots. Fearful at once of being outflanked and of having his chariots made useless, Darius launched some Bactrian and Scythian cavalry against the advancing enemy; Alexander, on the other hand, detached some cavalry of his own to charge the Bactrians, and the action began.

The Bactrians commenced with a success, driving back the Greek horsemen. These fell back on their supports, and advancing again in increased force, threw the Bactrians into confusion. Squadron after squadron joined the fray, till a considerable part of the Macedonian right and of the Persian left wing was engaged. The Persians were beginning to give way, when Darius saw, as he thought, the time for bringing the scythed chariots into action, and gave the word for them to charge, and for his main line to advance behind them. The charge was made, but failed, almost entirely, of its effect. The Macedonian archers and javelin-throwers wounded many of the horses; some agile skirmishers even seized the reins and dragged down the drivers from their places. Other chariots got as far as the Macedonian line, but recoiled from the bristling line of outstretched pikes; and the few whose drivers were lucky enough or bold enough to break their way through all hindrances were allowed to pass between the Macedonian lines, without being able to inflict any serious damage. Then Alexander delivered his counter attack. He ceased his movement to the right. Wheeling half round, the "Companions" dashed into the open space which the advance of the Bactrian squadrons had left in the Persian line. At the same time his own main line raised the battle-cry, and moved forward. Once within the enemy's ranks he pushed straight for the place where, as he knew, the battle would be decided, the chariot of the king. The first defence of that all-important position was the Persian cavalry. Better at skirmishing than at hand-to-hand fighting, it broke before his onslaught. Still there remained troops to be reckoned with who might have made the fortune of the day doubtful, the flower of the Persian foot and the veteran Greeks. For a time these men held their ground; they might have held it longer, perhaps with success, but for the same cause which had brought about the disastrous result of Issus, the cowardice of Darius. He had been dismayed to see his chariots fail and his cavalry broken by the charge of the "Companions," and he lost heart altogether when the dreaded phalanx itself, with its bristling array of pikes, seemed to be forcing a way through the line of his infantry and coming nearer to himself. He turned his chariot and fled, the first, when he should have been the last, to leave his post.

The flight of the king was the signal for a general rout, so far at least as the centre and left wing of the Persian army was concerned. It was no longer a battle; it was a massacre. Alexander pressed furiously on, eager to capture the fugitive Darius. But the very completeness of his victory, it may be said, hindered him. So headlong was the flight that the dust, which, after the months of burning summer heat, lay thick upon the plain, rose like the smoke of a vast conflagration. The darkness was as the darkness of night. Nothing could be seen, but all around were heard the cries of fury and despair, the jingling of the chariot wheels, and the sound of the whips which the terrified charioteers were plying with all their might.

Nor was Alexander permitted to continue the pursuit. Though the Persian left, demoralised by the cowardice of the king, had fled, the right wing had fought with better fortune. It was under the command of Mazæus, who was probably the ablest of the Persian generals, and knew how to use his superiority of numbers. Whilst the sturdy Median infantry engaged the Macedonian front line, Mazæus put himself at the head of the Parthian horse and charged the flank. Parmenio, Alexander's ablest lieutenant—his one general, as he was reported to have said—who was in command, sent an urgent request for help, so hard pressed did he find himself to be. Alexander was greatly vexed, for he saw that all chance of capturing Darius was lost, but he knew his business too well to neglect the demand. He at once called back his troops from the pursuit, and led them to the help of the left wing. Parmenio had sent the same message to that division of the phalanx which had taken part in the advance of the right wing.

As things turned out, however, the help was hardly needed. On the one hand, the Thessalian cavalry had proved themselves worthy of their old reputation as the best horsemen in Greece. Held during the earlier part of the engagement in reserve, they had made a brilliant charge on the Parthians, and had restored the fortune of the day. And then, on the other hand, Mazæus and his men had felt the same infection of fear which the flight of Darius had communicated to the rest of the army. Parmenio felt the vigour of the enemy's attack languish, though he did not know the cause, and had the satisfaction of regaining, and more than regaining, the ground which he had lost, before the reinforcements arrived.

The day was virtually over, yet the hardest fighting of the battle was yet to take place. The Parthian cavalry, with some squadrons of Persian and Indian horse among them, encountered, as they retreated across the field of battle, Alexander himself and the "Companions." Their only hope of escape was to cut through the advancing force. It was no time for tactics, only for a desperate charge for life. Each man was fighting for himself, and he fought with a fury that made him a match even for Macedonian discipline and valour. And the enemy had among them some of the most expert swordsmen in the world. Anyhow, the "Companions" suffered more severely than they did in any other engagement in the war. Sixty were slain in the course of a few minutes, three of the principal officers were wounded, and even Alexander himself was in serious danger. But the Parthians thought only of saving their lives, and when they once saw the way clear before them they were only too glad to follow it.

The Persians achieved one more success. A brigade of Indian and Persian horse had plunged through a gap which the movement of the phalanx had left in the line, and attacked the camp. The Thracians who guarded it were hampered by the number of the prisoners whom they had to watch. Many of these escaped. The mother of Darius—the effort had been made for her—might have been one of them, but she refused to go. By this time some troops had come to the rescue of the camp, and the Persian cavalry had to fly.

The great battle of Arbela was over. It was the most hardly won as it was the most conclusive of all Alexander's victories. The Persians made no further stand. The great enemy of Greece had disappeared from the stage of history. But we shall find the powerful forces which Persia represented appear again in another shape.

BOOK IV

ROME AND CARTHAGE

I. THE SERVANTS OF MARS

I have had to speak more than once of mercenary troops employed by the Greek cities in Sicily to help them in their long struggle with Carthage. The use of such troops was a regular practice with Carthage; it was only on great occasions that this State put its own citizens in the field. With the Greeks, on the contrary, it was the exception to employ any but citizen soldiers. The mercenary was suspected, and not without reason, of being a ready instrument in the hands of any unscrupulous person who might be seeking to establish a tyranny. As time went on, however, he became more and more a necessity. As society became more complex, the citizen found himself less willing to bear arms and less capable of doing it. And the exhaustion caused by almost incessant wars made it necessary to seek elsewhere for men who should fill up the depleted ranks. Hence the employment of mercenaries even by free cities. Whatever their use in time of war, these auxiliaries were naturally difficult to manage or dispose of when peace had been restored.[14] Such certainly the Syracusans found to be the case with a body of Italian mercenaries whom Agathocles[15] had had in his service. They were paid off and peremptorily ordered to return home. This prospect was not agreeable; it meant a return to regular and not very profitable labour; they greatly preferred to live by the sword. They professed, however, to be willing to obey the command, and accordingly marched in the direction of Italy, intending, it appeared, to be ferried across the Straits of Messana. Whether they had fixed on any settled plan, or yielded to the sudden attraction of a chance that seemed to offer itself, cannot be determined. What we know is that when they reached Messana, from which they were to have embarked, and had been imprudently invited within the walls by its citizens, they seized the town with all that it contained. Here they established themselves, taking the name of Mamertini, or "Servants of Mars" (Mamers was the Oscan name for the deity known to the Romans as Mars). A similar body held the adjacent mainland, and the two, joined as they were by an informal alliance of interests, became a formidable power. They practically lived by robbery by land and sea, and their existence became an intolerable nuisance to the two powers that shared Sicily between them. For once the interests of Syracuse and Carthage were identical. The Syracusan troops inflicted a severe defeat on the Mamertini, and, with the help of their new allies, closely besieged their town.

The Mamertini had for some time perceived that they could not stand alone, but must take sides either with Rome or with Carthage. They were divided as to the choice, but circumstances inclined them to Rome, and they sent envoys asking for protection and help. The Senate, to whom this application was addressed, were not a little perplexed. They had just inflicted a severe punishment on a body of mercenaries who had done at Rhegium exactly the same thing that the Mamertini had done at Messana. They postponed the matter more than once, possibly in the hope that the necessity of deciding might pass away. But the General Assembly of the People, to whom the Senate referred the matter—this dual government had at times its convenience—was not disposed to be so indifferent. A resolution was passed that the Mamertini were to be helped, and Appius Claudius, one of the Consuls of the year, was sent in command of an expedition.

When he arrived, he found the situation considerably changed. There was a Carthaginian as well as a Roman party among the Mamertini, and the former had now gained the upper hand. A Carthaginian fleet was in the harbour and a body of Carthaginian troops in possession of the citadel. Fortunately for Rome, there was no one of energy or determination to manage affairs. The officer in command of the fleet was seized by the pro-Roman faction, and Hanno, who was in charge of the citadel, consented to evacuate it, if he were allowed to withdraw with the honours of war. Rome became possessed of Messana without having to strike a blow. She never lost it—it was not her way to lose what she had once gained—and she found it a most valuable position. But the acquisition of Messana meant war with Carthage. Carthage began by crucifying the unlucky general who had abandoned the citadel, and then, entering into close alliance with Hiero, invested the city. Appius Claudius made proposals for peace, which were not accepted. Then he made a sally from the town and inflicted such a defeat on the enemy that they raised the siege. The next year Hiero, who had the sagacity to see that Rome would be a more useful ally than Carthage, changed sides. Rome had its foot down in Sicily and never took it up.

FOOTNOTES:

[14] Xenophon gives in the later books of the Anabasis a graphic description of the troubles that arose when the "Ten Thousand," or such as were left of them (between eight and nine thousand), had made their way to the coast, and were looking out for employment.

[15] See pp. 120-21.

II

FOR THE RULE OF THE SEA

I am not going to tell the whole story of the Punic Wars. In each of them, however, there is something that belongs to my subject. In the First, with which I am now concerned, there is the extraordinary effort by which the Romans put themselves in a position to contend with Carthage for the dominion of the sea. There is nothing quite like it in history, and nothing, one might say, which more plainly showed the wonderful fitness of the nation for its great destiny of ruling the world. Polybius, one of the most thoughtful and judicious of ancient historians, becomes enthusiastic in his praise of this marvellous effort. He says: "There could be no more signal proof of their courage, or rather audacity. They had no resources at all for the enterprise; they had never even entertained the idea of a naval war—indeed it was the first time they had thought of it—but they engaged in the enterprise with such daring that, without so much as a preliminary trial, they took upon themselves to meet the Carthaginians at sea, on which they had held for generations an undisputed supremacy." The first thing, of course, was to build the ships. They had not even a model to copy, till one of the Carthaginian men-of-war happened to run aground, and so fell into their hands. And while the ships were being built the crews which were to man them were being exercised. Sets of rowers' benches were constructed on dry ground; the crews sat on them as they would have to sit in actual vessels. In the middle the fugleman, as we may call him, was stationed. As he gave the signal, they stretched their bodies and arms forwards, and drew them back again, all in time. By the time the ships were finished, the crews were as ready as this kind of teaching could make them. A little practice in actual rowing on the sea was given them, and then the new fleet entered upon its first naval campaign.

The first experience of the new force was not encouraging. A squadron of seventeen ships under one of the Consuls for the year, a Scipio, great-uncle of a famous man of whom I shall have to speak hereafter, was shut up in the harbour of Lipara, and had to surrender. The other Consul was put in command of the fleet and at once set about suiting it better to the actual conditions of warfare. He had the sagacity to see that there was more in seamanship than could be acquired by a landsman in a few weeks, and the object that he set before himself was that seamanship should not be allowed to count for more than could possibly be helped. To put the matter shortly, a battle on sea was to be made as like to a battle on land as could be managed. He adopted accordingly the suggestion of an ingenious inventor that the ships should be fitted with boarding-machines, or "crows" (corvi), as they afterwards came to be called. The actual "crow" was a gangway, four feet wide and thirty-six feet long, with a wooden railing on either side, about the height of a man's knee. This construction was fastened to a pole, some twenty-four feet high, that was placed near the bowsprit. It was fitted with pulleys and ropes so that it could be dropped at pleasure in any direction that might be convenient. When it was dropped to the deck of a hostile ship it acted as a grappling-iron, for it was fitted with a heavy spike which ran into the timber. If the two ships came together side by side the boarders could scramble over the bulwarks, and the chief use of the machine was for grappling. If they met prow to prow the gangway, which was broad enough for two men to pass over it abreast, became very useful.

When this equipment was complete, Duilius boldly put to sea, sailing for a spot on the north coast of Sicily where the Carthaginians were busy plundering. As soon as the Roman fleet came in sight the Carthaginian admiral—one of the many Hannibals who figure in these wars—manned his ships, and went out of harbour to meet it. He was superior in numbers, having 130 ships, while the Romans could have had but few over 100 (they had built 120 and had lost 17). But it was on his superiority in seamanship that he most relied. For the Romans as sailors he had, and not without reason, a profound contempt. So strong was this feeling of superiority that he did not take ordinary pains in keeping his ships in order. "He advanced," says Polybius, "as though he was about to seize an easy prey." He and his officers saw the "crows," and could not make out what they meant. That there was anything dangerous about them no one seems to have imagined, for the Carthaginian captains that led the van of the fleet charged straight at their antagonists. When they came to close quarters they made a very discomfiting discovery. Any ship that came into contact with a Roman vessel was immediately grappled; no sooner had it been grappled than it was boarded by a number of armed men, and became the scene of a conflict that was practically the same as if it were being fought on dry land. The Carthaginian crews were not prepared for this; it is not improbable that they were insufficiently armed, for they counted on ramming and sinking their antagonists. Thirty ships were captured in this way; the rest of the fleet sheered off when they saw what had happened to the van, and tried to manœuvre, taking the enemy, if possible, at a disadvantage. They were able, however, to affect little or nothing. If they were to do any damage to the enemy, they had, sooner or later, to come into contact with him. But this contact was very likely to be fatal. The "crow" was promptly dropped, and the dreaded Romans had to be encountered. Twenty more ships were thus lost, and the rest were glad enough to make their escape.

This victory was undoubtedly a great achievement, and Rome did not fail to appreciate it properly. The Consul Duilius became at once one of the most famous of Roman heroes. He did not perform, possibly had no opportunity of performing, any other service of much importance, but the victory of Mylæ established his reputation for ever. A story is told of the privileges accorded to him in his old age. He had a fancy for being attended by a couple of flute players when he was returning home from an entertainment, and though the practice was thought inconsistent with the simplicity of Roman manners, his fellow-citizens endured it with patience in consideration of the singular service which he had rendered to his country.

Nor was the victory at Mylæ a solitary success. Four years afterwards there was another great sea-fight at Heraclea,[16] on the south coast of Sicily. The Romans had determined to adopt a policy which, as we have seen, had been previously followed with success, and to attack Carthage on her own territory. A very large fleet was collected or constructed to carry out this purpose. There were, according to Polybius, 330 ships, each carrying on an average 300 rowers and sailors and 120 soldiers or marines. This gives a total of nearly 140,000, a huge number which Polybius mentions with astonishment, but apparently without disbelief. The Carthaginian fleet, which numbered 350 men-of-war, prepared to dispute the passage.

The battle that followed was fiercely contested. The description that Polybius gives of it is not easy to understand, but the main features are clear enough. In manœuvring the Carthaginians more than held their own. Whatever success they won was due to the rapidity and skill with which they moved; but they could not contend on equal terms with their antagonists when they had to come to close quarters. "Over thirty" of their ships were sunk. Polybius does not give, doubtless because he could not ascertain, a more definite figure, while the Romans lost twenty-four. So far there was no great disparity. But, on the other hand, sixty-four Carthaginian men-of-war were captured, whereas not a single Roman ship was taken. Plainly, when the "crows" could be brought into use, and the struggle between ship and ship was decided by hand-to-hand fighting, the old Roman superiority declared itself.

FOOTNOTES:

[16] The battle is sometimes spoken of as the battle of Ecnomus.

III

THE MARTYR PATRIOT

The two Consuls of the year were in command of the fleet at Heraclea, and the historian attributes some of the energy and determination with which the battle was fought to the encouragement of their presence. The junior of the two, M. Atilius Regulus, is one of the most romantic heroes of Roman story, and it is impossible not to give a short account of the rest of his career. It was by an accident, the death of the duly elected Consul of the year very shortly after his coming into office, that Regulus happened to share the command of the expedition to Africa. But he had held the Consulship before, and had then so distinguished himself—he had in fact the glory of completing the Roman conquest of Italy—that he had obtained the honour of a triumph. After the victory at Heraclea, he effected a successful landing on the African coast. The departure of his colleague, who was summoned home, left him in sole command. Aided by an insurrection of the native tribes, always ready to revenge themselves on their oppressive masters, he reduced Carthage to great straits. That haughty State even brought itself to ask for peace. Regulus demanded such conditions—what they were we are not told—that the Carthaginians unanimously resolved to bear any extremity of suffering rather than submit to them.

And now there was a change of fortune. It came with dramatic suddenness, and signally illustrated the aphorism which the moralists of antiquity repeated with such frequency and emphasis, "pride goeth before a fall." The Carthaginian recruiting agents, when they visited Greece, found a man who was admirably suited for their purpose. Xanthippus was one of those Spartan soldiers of fortune who in several conspicuous instances affected the course of history. It was the Spartan Gylippus who saved Syracuse when it was almost in the grasp of Athens; and now it was another Spartan who at least prolonged for a century the existence of Carthage. Xanthippus had, it would seem, taken service in some subordinate capacity as an officer of mercenaries. He was an acute observer, and saw that the resources of Carthage were but ill employed. In the two arms of elephants and cavalry her army was so superior to the Romans that defeat could not but be the result of mismanagement. These opinions, freely expressed to his comrades, came round before long to the ears of the authorities. Xanthippus was summoned before them; he explained his views and pointed out some changes in the management of the campaign which it would be necessary to make. His hearers were greatly impressed by the force and clearness of his statement, and gave him what was probably a provisional command of the army. He had now the opportunity of showing his military abilities. He began by manœuvring bodies of troops, and showed such tactical skill as to excite the admiration of the men. They loudly demanded to be led against the enemy, stipulating that the leader should be Xanthippus. It is needless to describe the battle which followed. The hundred elephants which Xanthippus put in part of his line were used to good effect. They did not actually break the Roman legions, but they inflicted a great deal of damage, and prepared the way for the infantry behind them. In cavalry the Carthaginian army was so much stronger than the Roman—four thousand, we are told, to five hundred—that there was practically no conflict. In the end the army of Regulus was nearly annihilated. Two thousand men made good their retreat to the town of Aspis on the coast; five hundred, among whom was the Consul himself, were taken prisoners; the rest, more than twelve thousand in number, perished on the field of battle.

For five years Regulus remained in captivity. Then—so runs the story—he was sent to Rome in company of some ambassadors who were to propose a treaty of peace. It was expected of him that he should do his best to recommend the proposal to his countrymen; his release was to be the reward of his help. But Regulus had very different views of the situation. He thought that peace, at least on any such terms as Carthage was willing to accept, would not be for the interest of Rome, and he determined to oppose. He asked permission to speak; his right to deliver an opinion as a member of the Senate he considered himself to have lost by having fallen into the hands of the enemy. Leave granted, he delivered an oration in which he did his best to dissuade his countrymen from making peace, and succeeded. But his success was fatal, not only to his chances of liberty, but to his life. He was taken back to Carthage, and there—so the story has it—put to death by cruel tortures. The tale is told by many writers, but Polybius, who is by far the best authority for events of the time, is absolutely silent about it, and his silence, in view of the strong feeling in favour of the Romans which is noticeable in him, is a very important consideration. According to another story, which seems to have as little or as much foundation, the Senate handed over to the widow of Regulus two noble Carthaginian prisoners. The woman, in revenge for her husband's death, treated them with such barbarity that, for very shame, the Senate took them out of her hands. Perhaps we shall be justified in regarding both legends as specimens of that wonderful crop of inventions which springs up whenever the feelings of a nation are greatly roused by the agitations of war.

This was not the only loss that Rome suffered during the latter part of the war. She lost one fleet by a storm, and another by the folly of its commander. This man was one of the Claudian family, a house which showed more ability in politics than in war. He seems to have fallen into the mistake of underrating the enemy, made an attack upon them from which he was compelled to withdraw, and when he saw that the day was lost, made his own escape with a discreditable precipitancy. The battle was fought in and outside the harbour of Drepanum, a town in the extreme west of the Island. Claudius was indicted on his return to Rome, heavily fined, and thrown into prison. He is said to have committed suicide. In later writers we find a story which has something of the look of having been invented to point a moral. It was represented to him on the morning of the battle by the keepers of the sacred chickens, that the sacred birds, whose conduct was held to foretell the future, would not eat. This was a most sinister sign. The insolent soldier received the intimation with contempt. "If they won't eat," he cried, "they shall at least drink!" and he gave orders that they should be thrown into the sea. It is certainly, whether true or not, a characteristic illustration of the arrogance of the Claudian family. Such, too, is the other story which supplements it. Some years afterwards a sister of the unlucky or impious general was greatly incommoded by the crush of people coming out of the amphitheatre. "I wish," she cried, "that my brother were alive again, and would take another fleet to Sicily, and ease us of some of this superfluous crowd." She was fined for her incivility, the use of language unbecoming a citizen.

In B.C. 241 this long war at last came to an end. Both sides had suffered fearfully both in men and means. The Romans lost 700 ships of war and the Carthaginians about 200 less, for though they had not shown themselves a match for their antagonists in fighting, they knew better how to deal with bad conditions of weather. The Romans had a way of going straight to their point, whatever obstacles were in their way. Storm or no storm, they went on, and the result of their obstinacy was often not a little disastrous.[17]

On the whole the balance of success was considerably in favour of Rome, and the conditions of the peace showed a distinct gain. The most important article was the total withdrawal of Carthage from Sicily. For more than three centuries she had renewed her attempts to possess herself of the Island. Now she was compelled to definitely renounce her ambition. This renunciation marks an important stage in the history of the world.

FOOTNOTES:

[17] We may compare the way in which they made their great military roads. These went by the nearest way from point to point, not engineered according to modern practice.

IV

THE SONS OF LIGHTNING

The later years of the First Punic War had brought to the front a man of extraordinary genius, Hamilcar, surnamed Barca.[18] As his son, Hannibal, was born in this very same year, we may safely put his age at twenty-five. Hamilcar kept the Romans in check, first at Ercté, a stronghold in Sicily, and afterwards at Eryx in the same island, for five years, and might have even changed the course of the war if he could have been adequately supported from home. So greatly did his military ability impress the Romans that when negotiations for peace were commenced, he was permitted to march out of Eryx with all the honours of war. During the next four years he rendered the greatest service to his country, which had been brought to the very verge of ruin by the revolt of the mercenaries. It was Hamilcar, in fact, who saved Carthage from destruction. This done, he devoted the remainder of his life to the working out of a great scheme which was to restore his country to the commanding position from which she had been deposed by the disasters of the First Punic War. Sicily had been lost; another province, far larger, and possibly more valuable, might be found in Spain. Carthage had had for several generations a large trade with Spain, and probably possessed some trading ports or fortified factories on the southern coast. Hannibal crossed over into Spain with a general commission to do what he could for the interests of Carthage in that country. We know next to nothing about the details of his action, but it is clear that he was eminently successful. He practically conquered a considerable part of Spain, and did it without any charge on the home revenues, which, indeed, were largely augmented by the sums which he sent home. After a prosperous career of nearly nine years he fell in battle. This was 229 B.C., when he was little more than forty years of age. His work was taken up by his son-in-law, Hasdrubal. Hasdrubal was, by all accounts, more of a politician than a soldier. The interests of Carthage, however, were furthered rather than hindered by this difference of character. Hamilcar had impressed the Spanish tribes by his military genius and resources. Hasdrubal conciliated them. His wife was the daughter of a Spanish chief. Altogether he did much to consolidate the Carthaginian power in the Peninsula. Not the least of his services was his foundation of New Carthage, a place admirably chosen for strength of position and convenience of access. After eight years of rule he was assassinated by a slave whose master he had put to death.

The successor of Hasdrubal was the son of Hamilcar, a son who possessed a military genius even greater than that of his father. Hannibal is ranked by common consent among the greatest generals of the world. If Rome could have been overthrown by any enemy, it would have been by him, so brilliant was his strategy, so great his capacity for leadership—nothing is more remarkable in his career than his power of giving unity to the varied components of a mercenary army—and so resolute his hostility to Rome. He himself narrated towards the close of his life the incident which seems to have made this feeling the dominant motive of his life. He was then in exile, and the guest of Antiochus the Great, King of Syria. Some jealous courtiers had suggested to Antiochus that Hannibal was not indisposed to come to terms with Rome. He then told his story.

"When my father was about to go on his expedition to Spain, I was nine years old. I was standing near the altar when he made the usual sacrifice to Zeus. This successfully performed, he bade all the other worshippers stand back, and calling me to him, asked me whether I wished to go with him. I gave an eager assent, and begged him most earnestly to take me. On this he took me by the right hand, led me up to the altar, and bade me lay my hand upon the victim, and swear eternal enmity to Rome."

No vow was ever more faithfully performed.

Of Hannibal's early years we know but little. He was present at the battle in which his father was killed, being then in his nineteenth year. During the period of his brother-in-law's command he was continuously employed on active service. Hasdrubal's ability, as has been already said, was political rather than military, and the operations in the field were largely conducted by the younger man, and conducted with conspicuous success. His habit of victory and his great personal qualities made him the favourite of the army. Livy gives us a vivid picture of the man as he was in his youth.

"Bold in the extreme in incurring peril, he was perfectly cool in its presence. No toil could weary his body or conquer his spirit. Heat and cold he bore with equal patience. The cravings of nature, not the pleasure of the palate, determined the measure of his food and drink. His waking and sleeping hours had no relation to day and night. Such time as business left him, he gave to repose, but it was not on a soft couch or in stillness that he sought it. Many saw him, wrapped in his military cloak, lying on the ground amidst the sentries and pickets. His dress was not one whit superior to that of his comrades, but his accoutrements and his horses were conspicuously splendid. Of all the cavalry and the infantry, he was by far the first soldier, earliest to join the battle and last to leave it."

The quarrel with Rome, undoubtedly provoked of set purpose by Hannibal, began with his attack on Saguntum (now Murviedro, i.e., Muri Veteres, "The Old Walls," in Valencia). This town was in alliance with the Romans, who sent envoys to Hannibal bidding him desist from the attack, and to Carthage, complaining of their general's action. Hannibal refused to receive the embassy; at Carthage the answer given was practically a refusal to interfere. Meanwhile Saguntum was left without help. When it fell, after a siege of several months, the Romans felt that war was inevitable, and made preparations for carrying it on with vigour. They probably under-estimated the strength of the enemy. The army voted, largely made up, it must be remembered, of recruits enrolled for the purpose, amounted to about 70,000; and the fleet was to number about 250 ships. Everything, however, was to be done in due form. Another embassy was sent to Carthage, with instructions to put the direct question, whether the government accepted the responsibility for the destruction of Saguntum. There was, it is true, a peace-party in Carthage, but it had been reduced to helplessness. The envoys could obtain no satisfaction. Their spokesman, one of the great Fabian House, on receiving a reply which could have no meaning but war, gathered up his robe into a fold and cried, "We bring you peace and war; take which you please." He was met with a fierce cry, "Give us which you will." Fabius shook out the fold with the words, "I give you war," and the answer was, "We accept it."

I shall pass as quickly as possible over the early operations of the war. Early in the spring of 218 B.C. Hannibal left his winter quarters at New Carthage, crossed the Ebro, and fought his way from that river to the foot of the Pyrenees. The Pyrenæan range itself presented no great difficulties. At the Rhone he encountered formidable opposition, but effected a crossing with great skill. In his march from the Rhone to the Alps, and in his passage of the Alps themselves he suffered little from hostile attacks. But the natural difficulties of the route were great, and he was late. He appears to have left New Carthage at the beginning of May. We may be sure that the start was made at the earliest practicable moment, but the delay was to cost much. Could he have moved a month earlier it would have been well. As it was he did not reach the Alps till the beginning of October, when the snows have already begun to fall on the higher ranges. The crossing was effected in fifteen days, but the cost in men and beasts of burden was tremendous. Hannibal had started from New Carthage with 90,000 foot and 16,000 horse; he descended into the Lombard plains with 20,000 infantry and 6,000 horse. He had very little more than one-fourth of his original numbers. He had not indeed lost the other three-fourths by battle or by disease. Many had deserted, many had been sent home, and the troops that remained were thoroughly trustworthy. But the fact remains that an army of 26,000 was even ludicrously small to be confronted with such an enemy as Rome. (It may be noted that the infantry was made up of Africans and Spaniards. The higher posts in the army were filled by Carthaginians, and some probably served in the cavalry, but in the main the army consisted of mercenaries.)

It would be a pity to omit so picturesque an incident as Hannibal's dream. Livy thus relates it: "He saw—so the story goes—a youth of godlike shape, who said that he had been sent by Jupiter to conduct the army of Hannibal into Italy; that he was therefore to follow, without ever turning away his eyes. At first Hannibal followed, trembling, looking neither round him nor behind; after a while, with the curiosity natural to the human mind, as he thought what that on which he was forbidden to look back might be, he could no longer restrain his eyes. What he saw was a serpent of portentous size moving onward with fearful destruction of bushes and trees; close behind the creature followed a storm-cloud with crashing thunder. He asked what this portent meant, and was told, 'It means the devastation of Italy.' He must go straight on, and leave the fates in darkness."

FOOTNOTES:

[18] "Barca" is equivalent to the Hebrew Barak, and means "lightning." We may compare the surname of Boanerges, "Sons of Thunder," given by Christ to the sons of Zebedee. In 247 B.C. he was appointed to the chief command of the forces of Carthage, being then "a very young man," if we may so translate the term adolescentulus which Livy applies to him. This word, however, is very vague. It covers any age from eighteen to upwards of thirty. Cicero, for instance, uses it of Cæsar at the age of thirty-two.

V

THE AVALANCHE FROM THE ALPS

A few days for rest and refreshment of the army were imperatively needed, but only a very few could be spared. Hannibal could not hope to face his antagonists without a large increase to his army, and this increase he could only get for the moment from the Gauls, the people in whose country he was, though later on reinforcements might be expected from Carthage. The Gauls would be ready enough to join him, for they were permanently hostile to Rome; but they would have to be satisfied of his strength. A war had opportunely broken out between the Taurini (Turin) and the Insubres (Milan). Hannibal took the part of the latter, and stormed a stronghold of the Taurini. From that moment he could practically command the services of as many Gauls as he wanted. But he had now to meet the Romans for the first time in the field.

P. Cornelius Scipio, one of the Consuls of the year, had had the province of Spain allotted to him. His intention had been to dispute the passage of the Rhone, but Hannibal had moved with such rapidity that Scipio found himself anticipated. The Carthaginians were already across the river when Scipio reached its mouth, and had secured so long a start that it was useless to follow him. But the news of the Carthaginians arrival in Italy seemed to demand instant action. He handed his army over to Cnaeus, his brother and second-in-command, reserving for himself a few picked troops only, and sailed for Italy, where he took over the division under the charge of the prætor Manlius. He marched as rapidly as possible to Placentia (Piacenza), where he crossed the Po, and advanced up the left bank of the river till he reached the Ticinus (Ticino), one of its tributaries. Over this stream he threw a bridge, which he protected by building a fort. Hannibal was encamped some ten miles to the westward, at a spot called Ictumuli, and had sent out Maharbal in command of some Numidian cavalry to ravage the country; sparing, however, all the territory belonging to the Gallic tribes. Maharbal was recalled when the advance of the Romans became known, and Hannibal moved out of his camp, in personal command of his cavalry. Scipio did exactly the same. The battle that ensued was therefore wholly a battle of cavalry. This put the Romans at a great disadvantage. They were distinctly inferior in this arm, and the nature of the country, an expanse of unincumbered plain, gave the enemy every opportunity of making the best of the advantage. Scipio had put some light-armed troops in the van. They seemed to have been of the poorest quality, for they fled at the first impact of the two armies. The regular cavalry of the Romans showed to better advantage. They held their own for some time against their assailants, also a force of regular cavalry. But they were at a great disadvantage. The fugitives from the front had thrown their lines into disorder. These it was impossible to keep firm when those panic-stricken creatures were trying to find their way through them. Then there happened a great misfortune. Scipio was so seriously wounded that he had to give up the command. According to the most generally received account, he was saved from capture by the valour of his son, then a lad of eighteen. We shall hear of him again, for he became in later years the great hero of the war, Scipio Africanus the elder. Some of the Roman cavalry made a determined stand round their wounded chief and contrived to carry him off the field. But the battle was lost. The defeat, however, was not so complete that the Roman camp was in any danger. Hannibal, who was still hampered by his scanty numbers, was content to rest on the field of battle. That night the Romans hurriedly retreated to Placentia, hoping to find their bridge unbroken. They had actually reached their destination before Hannibal became aware of their departure. He was in time enough, however, to capture some six hundred stragglers whom he found lingering on the left bank of the Po. A great raft had been constructed for the passage of the river, and they were at work in loosing it. Hannibal came upon them while they were so employed. He captured the men, but the raft, which it would have been a great advantage to secure, floated down-stream. Two days were spent in looking for a practicable ford. Before this could be found the Roman army had recovered its order and confidence. It suffered, however, a most damaging blow within the next few days. A body of Gallic auxiliaries, two thousand infantry, and two hundred cavalry, deserted to Hannibal, cutting down the sentries at the camp gate. The Carthaginian general gave them a hearty welcome, and held out to them great promises of advancement and reward. For the present he sent them to their homes. The best service, in his judgment, that they could do was to spread abroad the report of his generosity and of the Roman defeat.

Scipio now moved southward, falling back to a position near the river Trebia, a tributary of the Po, which flows into it on its right or southern bank. Here he fortified a camp, and sat down to await the arrival of Sempronius, his colleague in the Consulship, who had been recalled from his province (Sicily) to take part in the defence of Italy. He was suffering greatly from his wound, and was unequal to the active duties of command, which, however, he was unwilling to hand over to a substitute. Probably it would have been unconstitutional to do so, when the other Consul was within reach. Yet the prætor Manlius, in whose charge the army had originally been, was probably in the camp. Constitutional forms, as we shall see again and again, weakened the military energies of Rome. Nothing could be imagined more absurd than that the army should have been entrusted to generals, changed every year, and elected by popular vote. To oppose such men to the unequalled genius of Hannibal was to ensure defeat. The mere permanence of the Carthaginian command gave him an immense advantage. But we must never forget the other side of the case. Without these constitutional forms neither Rome nor Greece (about which the historian has to say much the same thing) could have been what they were. We must expect to find in a nation as in a man the defects of its great qualities.

Sempronius joined his colleague some time, it would seem, during the month of November. He was all for action. "It is intolerable," he urged, "that Italy should be invaded and Rome threatened in this fashion. And what are we waiting for? There is no third army that can join us. Our men will lose all heart if we let them sit in their camp while the enemy plunders our friends." All this is natural enough, especially when we know that the Romans had very little idea, so far, of what Hannibal really was. But Livy, doubtless, is right when he adds that Sempronius had before his eyes the approaching election of Consuls. On the 1st of January ensuing he would have to go out of office, and yield up his command. If he was to gain the distinction of a victory he must strike at once.