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Plutarch
Lives of the Noble Grecians and Romans
Translated by John Dryden
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Themistocles
Camillus
Pericles
Fabius
Alcibiades
Coriolanus
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Themistocles
The birth of Themistocles was somewhat too obscure to do him honor. His
father, Neocles, was not of the distinguished people of Athens, but of
the township of Phrearrhi, and of the tribe Leontis; and by his mother’s
side, as it is reported, he was base-born.
I am not of the noble Grecian race,
I’m poor Abrotonon, and born in Thrace;
Let the Greek women scorn me, if they please,
I was the mother of Themistocles.
Yet Phanias writes that the mother of Themistocles was not of Thrace,
but of Caria, and that her name was not Abrotonon, but Euterpe; and
Neanthes adds farther that she was of Halicarnassus in Caria. And, as
illegitimate children, including those that were of the half-blood or
had but one parent an Athenian, had to attend at the Cynosarges (a
wrestling-place outside the gates, dedicated to Hercules, who was also
of half-blood amongst the gods, having had a mortal woman for his
mother), Themistocles persuaded several of the young men of high birth
to accompany him to anoint and exercise themselves together at
Cynosarges; an ingenious device for destroying the distinction between
the noble and the base-born, and between those of the whole and those of
the half blood of Athens. However, it is certain that he was related to
the house of the Lycomedae; for Simonides records, that he rebuilt the
chapel of Phlya, belonging to that family, and beautified it with
pictures and other ornaments, after it had been burnt by the Persians.
It is confessed by all that from his youth he was of a vehement and
impetuous nature, of a quick apprehension, and a strong and aspiring
bent for action and great affairs. The holidays and intervals in his
studies he did not spend in play or idleness, as other children, but
would be always inventing or arranging some oration or declamation to
himself, the subject of which was generally the excusing or accusing his
companions, so that his master would often say to him, “You, my boy,
will be nothing small, but great one way or other, for good or else for
bad.” He received reluctantly and carelessly instructions given him to
improve his manners and behavior, or to teach him any pleasing or
graceful accomplishment, but whatever was said to improve him in
sagacity, or in management of affairs, he would give attention to,
beyond one of his years, from confidence in his natural capacities for
such things. And thus afterwards, when in company where people engaged
themselves in what are commonly thought the liberal and elegant
amusements, he was obliged to defend himself against the observations of
those who considered themselves highly accomplished, by the somewhat
arrogant retort, that he certainly could not make use of any stringed
instrument, could only, were a small and obscure city put into his
hands, make it great and glorious. Notwithstanding this, Stesimbrotus
says that Themistocles was a hearer of Anaxagoras, and that he studied
natural philosophy under Melissus, contrary to chronology; for Melissus
commanded the Samians in their siege by Pericles, who was much
Themistocles’s junior; and with Pericles, also, Anaxagoras was intimate.
They, therefore, might rather be credited, who report, that Themistocles
was an admirer of Mnesiphilus the Phrearrhian, who was neither
rhetorician nor natural philosopher, but a professor of that which was
then called wisdom, consisting in a sort of political shrewdness and
practical sagacity, which had begun and continued, almost like a sect of
philosophy, from Solon; but those who came afterwards, and mixed it with
pleadings and legal artifices, and transformed the practical part of it
into a mere art of speaking and an exercise of words, were generally
called sophists. Themistocles resorted to Mnesiphilus when he had
already embarked in politics.
In the first essays of his youth he was not regular nor happily
balanced; he allowed himself to follow mere natural character, which,
without the control of reason and instruction, is apt to hurry, upon
either side, into sudden and violent courses, and very often to break
away and determine upon the worst; as he afterwards owned himself,
saying, that the wildest colts make the best horses, if they only get
properly trained and broken in. But those who upon this fasten stories
of their own invention, as of his being disowned by his father, and that
his mother died for grief of her son’s ill fame, certainly calumniate
him; and there are others who relate, on the contrary, how that to deter
him from public business, and to let him see how the vulgar behave
themselves towards their leaders when they have at last no farther use
of them, his father showed him the old galleys as they lay forsaken and
cast about upon the sea-shore.
Yet it is evident that his mind was early imbued with the keenest
interest in public affairs, and the most passionate ambition for
distinction. Eager from the first to obtain the highest place, he
unhesitatingly accepted the hatred of the most powerful and influential
leaders in the city, but more especially of Aristides, the son of
Lysimachus, who always opposed him. And yet all this great enmity
between them arose, it appears, from a very boyish occasion, both being
attached to the beautiful Stesilaus of Ceos, as Ariston the philosopher
tells us; ever after which, they took opposite sides, and were rivals in
politics. Not but that the incompatibility of their lives and manners
may seem to have increased the difference, for Aristides was of a mild
nature, and of a nobler sort of character, and, in public matters,
acting always with a view, not to glory or popularity, but to the best
interests of the state consistently with safety and honesty, he was
often forced to oppose Themistocles, and interfere against the increase
of his influence, seeing him stirring up the people to all kinds of
enterprises, and introducing various innovations. For it is said that
Themistocles was so transported with the thoughts of glory, and so
inflamed with the passion for great actions, that, though he was still
young when the battle of Marathon was fought against the Persians, upon
the skillful conduct of the general, Miltiades, being everywhere talked
about, he was observed to be thoughtful, and reserved, alone by him
self; he passed the nights without sleep, and avoided all his usual
places of recreation, and to those who wondered at the change, and
inquired the reason of it, he gave the answer, that “the trophy of
Miltiades would not let him sleep.” And when others were of opinion that
the battle of Marathon would be an end to the war, Themistocles thought
that it was but the beginning of far greater conflicts, and for these,
to the benefit of all Greece, he kept himself in continual readiness,
and his city also in proper training, foreseeing from far before what
would happen.
And, first of all, the Athenians being accustomed to divide amongst
themselves the revenue proceeding from the silver mines at Laurium, he
was the only man that dared propose to the people that this distribution
should cease, and that with the money ships should be built to make war
against the Aeginetans, who were the most flourishing people in all
Greece, and by the number of their ships held the sovereignty of the
sea; and Themistocles thus was more easily able to persuade them,
avoiding all mention of danger from Darius or the Persians, who were at
a great distance, and their coming very uncertain, and at that time not
much to be feared; but, by a seasonable employment of the emulation and
anger felt by the Athenians against the Aeginetans, he induced them to
preparation. So that with this money a hundred ships were built, with
which they afterwards fought against Xerxes. And, henceforward, little
by little, turning and drawing the city down towards the sea, in the
belief, that, whereas by land they were not a fit match for their next
neighbors, with their ships they might be able to repel the Persians and
command Greece, thus, as Plato says, from steady soldiers he turned them
into mariners and seamen tossed about the sea, and gave occasion for the
reproach against him, that he took away from the Athenians the spear and
the shield, and bound them to the bench and the oar. These measures he
carried in the assembly, against the opposition, as Stesimbrotus
relates, of Miltiades; and whether or no he hereby injured the purity
and true balance of government, may be a question for philosophers, but
that the deliverance of Greece came at that time from the sea, and that
these galleys restored Athens again after it was destroyed, were others
wanting, Xerxes himself would be sufficient evidence, who, though his
land-forces were still entire, after his defeat at sea, fled away, and
thought himself no longer able to encounter the Greeks; and, as it seems
to me, left Mardonius behind him, not out of any hopes he could have to
bring them into subjection, but to hinder them from pursuing him.
Themistocles is said to have been eager in the acquisition of riches,
according to some, that he might be the more liberal; for loving to
sacrifice often, and to be splendid in his entertainment of strangers,
he required a plentiful revenue; yet he is accused by others of having
been parsimonious and sordid to that degree that he would sell
provisions which were sent to him as a present. He desired Diphilides,
who was a breeder of horses, to give him a colt, and when he refused it,
threatened that in a short time he would turn his house into a wooden
horse, intimating that he would stir up dispute and litigation between
him and some of his relations.
He went beyond all men in the passion for distinction. When he was
still young and unknown in the world, he entreated Epicles of Hermione,
who had a good hand at the lute and was much sought after by the
Athenians, to come and practice at home with him, being ambitious of
having people inquire after his house and frequent his company. When he
came to the Olympic games, and was so splendid in his equipage and
entertainments, in his rich tents and furniture, that he strove to outdo
Cimon, he displeased the Greeks, who thought that such magnificence
might be allowed in one who was a young man and of a great family but
was a great piece of insolence in one as yet undistinguished, and
without title or means for making any such display. In a dramatic
contest, the play he paid for won the prize, which was then a matter
that excited much emulation; he put up a tablet in record of it, with
the inscription, “Themistocles of Phrearrhi was at the charge of it;
Phrynichus made it; Adimantus was archon.” He was well liked by the
common people, would salute every particular citizen by his own name,
and always show himself a just judge in questions of business between
private men; he said to Simonides, the poet of Ceos, who desired
something of him, when he was commander of the army, that was not
reasonable, “Simonides, you would be no good poet if you wrote false
measure, nor should I be a good magistrate if for favor I made false
law.” And at another time, laughing at Simonides, he said, that he was a
man of little judgment to speak against the Corinthians, who were
inhabitants of a great city, and to have his own picture drawn so often,
having so ill-looking a face.
Gradually growing to be great, and winning the favor of the people,
he at last gained the day with his faction over that of Aristides, and
procured his banishment by ostracism. When the king of Persia was now
advancing against Greece, and the Athenians were in consultation who
should be general, and many withdrew themselves of their own accord,
being terrified with the greatness of the danger, there was one
Epicydes, a popular speaker, son to Euphemides, a man of an eloquent
tongue, but of a faint heart, and a slave to riches, who was desirous of
the command, and was looked upon to be in a fair way to carry it by the
number of votes; but Themistocles, fearing that, if the command should
fall into such hands, all would be lost, bought off Epicydes and his
pretensions, it is said, for a sum of money.
When the king of Persia sent messengers into Greece, with an
interpreter, to demand earth and water, as an acknowledgment of
subjection, Themistocles, by the consent of the people, seized upon the
interpreter, and put him to death, for presuming to publish the
barbarian orders and decrees in the Greek language; this is one of the
actions he is commended for, as also for what he did to Arthmius of
Zelea, who brought gold from the king of Persia to corrupt the Greeks,
and was, by an order from Themistocles, degraded and disfranchised, he
and his children and his posterity; but that which most of all redounded
to his credit was, that he put an end to all the civil wars of Greece,
composed their differences, and persuaded them to lay aside all enmity
during the war with the Persians; and in this great work, Chileus the
Arcadian was, it is said, of great assistance to him.
Having taken upon himself the command of the Athenian forces, he
immediately endeavored to persuade the citizens to leave the city, and
to embark upon their galleys, and meet with the Persians at a great
distance from Greece; but many being against this, he led a large force,
together with the Lacedaemonians, into Tempe, that in this pass they
might maintain the safety of Thessaly, which had not as yet declared for
the king; but when they returned without performing anything; and it was
known that not only the Thessalians, but all as far as Boeotia, was
going over to Xerxes, then the Athenians more willingly hearkened to the
advice of Themistocles to fight by sea, and sent him with a fleet to
guard the straits of Artemisium.
When the contingents met here, the Greeks would have the
Lacedaemonians to command, and Eurybiades to be their admiral; but the
Athenians, who surpassed all the rest together in number of vessels,
would not submit to come after any other, till Themistocles, perceiving
the danger of this contest, yielded his own command to Eurybiades, and
got the Athenians to submit, extenuating the loss by persuading them,
that if in this war they behaved themselves like men, he would answer
for it after that, that the Greeks, of their own will, would submit to
their command. And by this moderation of his, it is evident that he was
the chief means of the deliverance of Greece, and gained the Athenians
the glory of alike surpassing their enemies in valor, and their
confederates in wisdom.
As soon as the Persian armada arrived at Aphetae, Eurybiades was
astonished to see such a vast number of vessels before him, and, being
informed that two hundred more were sailing round behind the island of
Sciathus, he immediately determined to retire farther into Greece, and
to sail back into some part of Peloponnesus, where their land army and
their fleet might join, for he looked upon the Persian forces to be
altogether unassailable by sea. But the Euboeans, fearing that the
Greeks would forsake them, and leave them to the mercy of the enemy,
sent Pelagon to confer privately with Themistocles, taking with him a
good sum of money, which, as Herodotus reports, he accepted and gave to
Eurybiades. In this affair none of his own countrymen opposed him so
much as Architeles, captain of the sacred galley, who, having no money
to supply his seamen, was eager to go home; but Themistocles so incensed
the Athenians against him, that they set upon him and left him not so
much as his supper, at which Architeles was much surprised, and took it
very ill; but Themistocles immediately sent him in a chest a service of
provisions, and at the bottom of it a talent of silver, desiring him to
sup tonight, and tomorrow provide for his seamen; if not, he would
report it amongst the Athenians that he had received money from the
enemy. So Phanias the Lesbian tells the story.
Though the fights between the Greeks and Persians in the straits of
Euboea were not so important as to make any final decision of the war,
yet the experience which the Greeks obtained in them was of great
advantage, for thus, by actual trial and in real danger, they found out
that neither number of ships, nor riches and ornaments, nor boasting
shouts, nor barbarous songs of victory, were any way terrible to men
that knew how to fight, and were resolved to come hand to hand with
their enemies; these things they were to despise, and to come up close
and grapple with their foes. This, Pindar appears to have seen, and says
justly enough of the fight at Artemisium, that
There the sons of Athens set
The stone that freedom stands on yet.
For the first step towards victory undoubtedly is to gain courage.
Artemisium is in Euboea, beyond the city of Histiaea, a sea-beach open
to the north; most nearly opposite to it stands Olizon, in the country
which formerly was under Philoctetes; there is a small temple there,
dedicated to Diana, surnamed of the Dawn, and trees about it, around
which again stand pillars of white marble; and if you rub them with your
hand, they send forth both the smell and color of saffron. On one of the
pillars these verses are engraved,—
With numerous tribes from Asia’s regions brought
The sons of Athens on these waters, fought;
Erecting, after they had quelled the Mede,
To Artemis this record of the deed.
There is a place still to be seen upon this shore, where, in the
middle of a great heap of sand, they take out from the bottom a dark
powder like ashes, or something that has passed the fire; and here, it
is supposed, the shipwrecks and bodies of the dead were burnt.
But when news came from Thermopylae to Artemisium, informing them
that king Leonidas was slain, and that Xerxes had made himself master of
all the passages by land, they returned back to the interior of Greece,
the Athenians having the command of the rear, the place of honor and
danger, and much elated by what had been done.
As Themistocles sailed along the coast, he took notice of the harbors
and fit places for the enemies’ ships to come to land at, and engraved
large letters in such stones as he found there by chance, as also in
others which he set up on purpose near to the landing-places, or where
they were to water; in which inscriptions he called upon the Ionians to
forsake the Medes, if it were possible, and come over to the Greeks, who
were their proper founders and fathers, and were now hazarding all for
their liberties; but, if this could not be done, at any rate to impede
and disturb the Persians in all engagements. He hoped that these
writings would prevail with the Ionians to revolt, or raise some trouble
by making their fidelity doubtful to the Persians.
Now, though Xerxes had already passed through Doris and invaded the
country of Phocis, and was burning and destroying the cities of the
Phocians, yet the Greeks sent them no relief; and, though the Athenians
earnestly desired them to meet the Persians in Boeotia, before they
could come into Attica, as they themselves had come forward by sea at
Artemisium, they gave no ear to their request, being wholly intent upon
Peloponnesus, and resolved to gather all their forces together within
the Isthmus, and to build a wall from sea to sea in that narrow neck of
land; so that the Athenians were enraged to see themselves betrayed, and
at the same time afflicted and dejected at their own destitution. For to
fight alone against such a numerous army was to no purpose, and the only
expedient now left them was to leave their city and cling to their
ships; which the people were very unwilling to submit to, imagining that
it would signify little now to gain a victory, and not understanding how
there could be deliverance any longer after they had once forsaken the
temples of their gods and exposed the tombs and monuments of their
ancestors to the fury of their enemies.
Themistocles, being at a loss, and not able to draw the people over
to his opinion by any human reason, set his machines to work, as in a
theater, and employed prodigies and oracles. The serpent of Minerva,
kept in the inner part of her temple, disappeared; the priests gave it
out to the people that the offerings which were set for it were found
untouched, and declared, by the suggestion of Themistocles, that the
goddess had left the city, and taken her flight before them towards the
sea. And he often urged them with the oracle which bade them trust to
walls of wood, showing them that walls of wood could signify nothing
else but ships; and that the island of Salamis was termed in it, not
miserable or unhappy, but had the epithet of divine, for that it should
one day be associated with a great good fortune of the Greeks. At length
his opinion prevailed, and he obtained a decree that the city should be
committed to the protection of Minerva, “queen of Athens;” that they who
were of age to bear arms should embark, and that each should see to
sending away his children, women, and slaves where he could. This decree
being confirmed, most of the Athenians removed their parents, wives, and
children to Troezen, where they were received with eager good-will by
the Troezenians, who passed a vote that they should be maintained at the
public charge, by a daily payment of two obols to every one, and leave
be given to the children to gather fruit where they pleased, and
schoolmasters paid to instruct them. This vote was proposed by
Nicagoras.
There was no public treasure at that time in Athens; but the council
of Areopagus, as Aristotle says, distributed to every one that served,
eight drachmas, which was a great help to the manning of the fleet; but
Clidemus ascribes this also to the art of Themistocles. When the
Athenians were on their way down to the haven of Piraeus, the shield
with the head of Medusa was missing; and he, under the pretext of
searching for it, ransacked all places, and found among their goods
considerable sums of money concealed, which he applied to the public
use; and with this the soldiers and seamen were well provided for their
voyage.
When the whole city of Athens were going on board, it afforded a
spectacle worthy of pity alike and admiration, to see them thus send
away their fathers and children before them, and, unmoved with their
cries and tears, pass over into the island. But that which stirred
compassion most of all was, that many old men, by reason of their great
age, were left behind; and even the tame domestic animals could not be
seen without some pity, running about the town and howling, as desirous
to be carried along with their masters that had kept them; among which
it is reported that Xanthippus, the father of Pericles, had a dog that
would not endure to stay behind, but leaped into the sea, and swam along
by the galley’s side till he came to the island of Salamis, where he
fainted away and died, and that spot in the island, which is still
called the Dog’s Grave, is said to be his.
Among the great actions of Themistocles at this crisis, the recall of
Aristides was not the least, for, before the war, he had been ostracized
by the party which Themistocles headed, and was in banishment; but now,
perceiving that the people regretted his absence, and were fearful that
he might go over to the Persians to revenge himself, and thereby ruin
the affairs of Greece, Themistocles proposed a decree that those who
were banished for a time might return again, to give assistance by word
and deed to the cause of Greece with the rest of their fellow-citizens.
Eurybiades, by reason of the greatness of Sparta, was admiral of the
Greek fleet, but yet was faint-hearted in time of danger, and willing to
weigh anchor and set sail for the isthmus of Corinth, near which the
land army lay encamped; which Themistocles resisted; and this was the
occasion of the well-known words, when Eurybiades, to check his
impatience, told him that at the Olympic games they that start up before
the rest are lashed; “And they,” replied Themistocles, “that are left
behind are not crowned.” Again, Eurybiades lifting up his staff as if he
were going to strike, Themistocles said, “Strike if you will, but hear;”
Eurybiades, wondering much at his moderation, desired him to speak, and
Themistocles now brought him to a better understanding. And when one who
stood by him told him that it did not become those who had neither city
nor house to lose, to persuade others to relinquish their habitations
and forsake their countries, Themistocles gave this reply: “We have
indeed left our houses and our walls, base fellow, not thinking it fit
to become slaves for the sake of things that have no life nor soul; and
yet our city is the greatest of all Greece, consisting of two hundred
galleys, which are here to defend you, if you please; but if you run
away and betray us, as you did once before, the Greeks shall soon hear
news of the Athenians possessing as fair a country, and as large and
free a city, as that they have lost.” These expressions of Themistocles
made Eurybiades suspect that if he retreated the Athenians would fall
off from him. When one of Eretria began to oppose him, he said, “Have
you anything to say of war, that are like an ink-fish? you have a sword,
but no heart.” Some say that while Themistocles was thus speaking things
upon the deck, an owl was seen flying to the right hand of the fleet,
which came and sat upon the top of the mast; and this happy omen so far
disposed the Greeks to follow his advice, that they presently prepared
to fight. Yet, when the enemy’s fleet was arrived at the haven of
Phalerum, upon the coast of Attica, and with the number of their ships
concealed all the shore, and when they saw the king himself in person
come down with his land army to the seaside, with all his forces united,
then the good counsel of Themistocles was soon forgotten, and the
Peloponnesians cast their eyes again towards the isthmus, and took it
very ill if any one spoke against their returning home; and, resolving
to depart that night, the pilots had order what course to steer. The
Teuthis, loligo, or cuttlefish, is said to have a bone or cartilage
shaped like a sword, and was conceived to have no heart.
Themistocles, in great distress that the Greeks should retire, and
lose the advantage of the narrow seas and strait passage, and slip home
every one to his own city, considered with himself, and contrived that
stratagem that was carried out by Sicinnus. This Sicinnus was a Persian
captive, but a great lover of Themistocles, and the attendant of his
children. Upon this occasion, he sent him privately to Xerxes,
commanding him to tell the king, that Themistocles, the admiral of the
Athenians, having espoused his interest, wished to be the first to
inform him that the Greeks were ready to make their escape, and that he
counseled him to hinder their flight, to set upon them while they were
in this confusion and at a distance from their land army, and hereby
destroy all their forces by sea. Xerxes was very joyful at this message,
and received it as from one who wished him all that was good, and
immediately issued instructions to the commanders of his ships, that
they should instantly Yet out with two hundred galleys to encompass all
the islands, and enclose all the straits and passages, that none of the
Greeks might escape, and that they should afterwards follow with the
rest of their fleet at leisure. This being done, Aristides, the son of
Lysimachus, was the first man that perceived it, and went to the tent of
Themistocles, not out of any friendship, for he had been formerly
banished by his means, as has been related, but to inform him how they
were encompassed by their enemies. Themistocles, knowing the generosity
of Aristides, and much struck by his visit at that time, imparted to him
all that he had transacted by Sicinnus, and entreated him, that, as he
would be more readily believed among the Greeks, he would make use of
his credit to help to induce them to stay and fight their enemies in the
narrow seas. Aristides applauded Themistocles, and went to the other
commanders and captains of the galleys, and encouraged them to engage;
yet they did not perfectly assent to him, till a galley of Tenos, which
deserted from the Persians, of which Panaetius was commander, came in,
while they were still doubting, and confirmed the news that all the
straits and passages were beset; and then their rage and fury, as well
as their necessity; provoked them all to fight.
As soon as it was day, Xerxes placed himself high up, to view his
fleet, and how it was set in order. Phanodemus says, he sat upon a
promontory above the temple of Hercules, where the coast of Attica is
separated from the island by a narrow channel; but Acestodorus writes,
that it was in the confines of Megara, upon those hills which are called
the Horns, where he sat in a chair of gold, with many secretaries about
him to write down all that was done in the fight.
When Themistocles was about to sacrifice, close to the admiral’s
galley, there were three prisoners brought to him, fine looking men, and
richly dressed in ornamented clothing and gold, said to be the children
of Artayctes and Sandauce, sister to Xerxes. As soon as the prophet
Euphrantides saw them, and observed that at the same time the fire
blazed out from the offerings with a more than ordinary flame, and that
a man sneezed on the right, which was an intimation of a fortunate
event, he took Themistocles by the hand, and bade him consecrate the
three young men for sacrifice, and offer them up with prayers for
victory to Bacchus the Devourer: so should the Greeks not only save
themselves, but also obtain victory. Themistocles was much disturbed at
this strange and terrible prophecy, but the common people, who, in any
difficult crisis and great exigency, ever look for relief rather to
strange and extravagant than to reasonable means, calling upon Bacchus
with one voice, led the captives to the altar, and compelled the
execution of the sacrifice as the prophet had commanded. This is
reported by Phanias the Lesbian, a philosopher well read in history.
The number of the enemy’s ships the poet Aeschylus gives in his
tragedy called the Persians, as on his certain knowledge, in the
following words—
Xerxes, I know, did into battle lead
One thousand ships; of more than usual speed
Seven and two hundred. So is it agreed.
The Athenians had a hundred and eighty; in every ship eighteen men
fought upon the deck, four of whom were archers and the rest
men-at-arms.
As Themistocles had fixed upon the most advantageous place, so, with
no less sagacity, he chose the best time of fighting; for he would not
run the prows of his galleys against the Persians, nor begin the fight
till the time of day was come, when there regularly blows in a fresh
breeze from the open sea, and brings in with it a strong swell into the
channel; which was no inconvenience to the Greek ships, which were
low-built, and little above the water, but did much hurt to the
Persians, which had high sterns and lofty decks, and were heavy and
cumbrous in their movements, as it presented them broadside to the quick
charges of the Greeks, who kept their eyes upon the motions of
Themistocles, as their best example, and more particularly because,
opposed to his ship, Ariamenes, admiral to Xerxes, a brave man, and by
far the best and worthiest of the king’s brothers, was seen throwing
darts and shooting arrows from his huge galley, as from the walls of a
castle. Aminias the Decelean and Sosicles the Pedian, who sailed in the
same vessel, upon the ships meeting stem to stem, and transfixing each
the other with their brazen prows, so that they were fastened together,
when Ariamenes attempted to board theirs, ran at him with their pikes,
and thrust him into the sea; his body, as it floated amongst other
shipwrecks, was known to Artemisia, and carried to Xerxes.
It is reported, that, in the middle of the fight, a great flame rose
into the air above the city of Eleusis, and that sounds and voices were
heard through all the Thriasian plain, as far as the sea, sounding like
a number of men accompanying and escorting the mystic Iacchus, and that
a mist seemed to form and rise from the place from whence the sounds
came, and, passing forward, fell upon the galleys. Others believed that
they saw apparitions, in the shape of armed men, reaching out their
hands from the island of Aegina before the Grecian galleys; and supposed
they were the Aeacidae, whom they had invoked to their aid before the
battle. The first man that took a ship was Lycomedes the Athenian,
captain of a galley, who cut down its ensign, and dedicated it to Apollo
the Laurel-crowned. And as the Persians fought in a narrow arm of the
sea, and could bring but part of their fleet to fight, and fell foul of
one another, the Greeks thus equaled them in strength, and fought with
them till the evening, forced them back, and obtained, as says
Simonides, that noble and famous victory, than which neither amongst the
Greeks nor barbarians was ever known more glorious exploit on the seas;
by the joint valor, indeed, and zeal of all who fought, but by the
wisdom and sagacity of Themistocles.
After this sea-fight, Xerxes, enraged at his ill-fortune, attempted,
by casting great heaps of earth and stones into the sea, to stop up the
channel and to make a dam, upon which he might lead his land-forces over
into the island of Salamis.
Themistocles, being desirous to try the opinion of Aristides, told
him that he proposed to set sail for the Hellespont, to break the bridge
of ships, so as to shut up, he said, Asia a prisoner within Europe; but
Aristides, disliking the design, said, “We have hitherto fought with an
enemy who has regarded little else but his pleasure and luxury; but if
we shut him up within Greece, and drive him to necessity, he that is
master of such great forces will no longer sit quietly with an umbrella
of gold over his head, looking upon the fight for his pleasure; but in
such a strait will attempt all things; he will be resolute, and appear
himself in person upon all occasions, he will soon correct his errors,
and supply what he has formerly omitted through remissness, and will be
better advised in all things. Therefore, it is noways our interest,
Themistocles,” he said, “to take away the bridge that is already made,
but rather to build another, if it were possible, that he might make his
retreat with the more expedition.” To which Themistocles answered, “If
this be requisite, we must immediately use all diligence, art, and
industry, to rid ourselves of him as soon as may be;” and to this
purpose he found out among the captives one of the king Of Persia’s
eunuchs, named Arnaces, whom he sent to the king, to inform him that the
Greeks, being now victorious by sea, had decreed to sail to the
Hellespont, where the boats were fastened together, and destroy the
bridge; but that Themistocles, being concerned for the king, revealed
this to him, that he might hasten towards the Asiatic seas, and pass
over into his own dominions; and in the mean time would cause delays,
and hinder the confederates from pursuing him. Xerxes no sooner heard
this, but, being very much terrified, he proceeded to retreat out of
Greece with all speed. The prudence of Themistocles and Aristides in
this was afterwards more fully understood at the battle of Plataea,
where Mardonius, with a very small fraction of the forces of Xerxes, put
the Greeks in danger of losing all.
Herodotus writes, that, of all the cities of Greece, Aegina was held
to have performed the best service in the war; while all single men
yielded to Themistocles, though, out of envy, unwillingly; and when they
returned to the entrance of Peloponnesus, where the several commanders
delivered their suffrages at the altar, to determine who was most
worthy, every one gave the first vote for himself and the second for
Themistocles. The Lacedaemonians carried him with them to Sparta, where,
giving the rewards of valor to Eurybiades, and of wisdom and conduct to
Themistocles, they crowned him with olive, presented him with the best
chariot in the city, and sent three hundred young men to accompany him
to the confines of their country. And at the next Olympic games, when
Themistocles entered the course, the spectators took no farther notice
of those who were contesting the prizes, but spent the whole day in
looking upon him, showing him to the strangers, admiring him, and
applauding him by clapping their hands, and other expressions of joy, so
that he himself, much gratified, confessed to his friends that he then
reaped the fruit of all his labors for the Greeks.
He was, indeed, by nature, a great lover of honor, as is evident from
the anecdotes recorded of him. When chosen admiral by the Athenians, he
would not quite conclude any single matter of business, either public or
private, but deferred all till the day they were to set sail, that, by
dispatching a great quantity of business all at once, and having to meet
a great variety of people, he might make an appearance of greatness and
power. Viewing the dead bodies cast up by the sea, he perceived
bracelets and necklaces of gold about them, yet passed on, only showing
them to a friend that followed him, saying, “Take you these things, for
you are not Themistocles.” He said to Antiphates, a handsome young man,
who had formerly avoided, but now in his glory courted him, “Time, young
man, has taught us both a lesson.” He said that the Athenians did not
honor him or admire him, but made, as it were, a sort of plane-tree of
him; sheltered themselves under him in bad weather, and, as soon as it
was fine, plucked his leaves and cut his branches. When the Seriphian
told him that he had not obtained this honor by himself, but by the
greatness of his city, he replied, “You speak truth; I should never have
been famous if I had been of Seriphus; nor you, had you been of Athens.”
When another of the generals, who thought he had performed considerable
service for the Athenians, boastingly compared his actions with those of
Themistocles, he told him that once upon a time the Day after the
Festival found fault with the Festival: “On you there is nothing but
hurry and trouble and preparation, but, when I come, everybody sits down
quietly and enjoys himself;” which the Festival admitted was true, but
“if I had not come first, you would not have come at all.” “Even so,” he
said, “if Themistocles had not come before, where had you been now?”
Laughing at his own son, who got his mother, and, by his mother’s means,
his father also, to indulge him, he told him that he had the most power
of any one in Greece: “For the Athenians command the rest of Greece, I
command the Athenians, your mother commands me, and you command your
mother.” Loving to be singular in all things, when he had land to sell,
he ordered the crier to give notice that there were good neighbors near
it. Of two who made love to his daughter, he preferred the man of worth
to the one who was rich, saying he desired a man without riches, rather
than riches without a man. Such was the character of his sayings.
After these things, he began to rebuild and fortify the city of
Athens, bribing, as Theopompus reports, the Lacedaemonian ephors not to
be against it, but, as most relate it, overreaching and deceiving them.
For, under pretest of an embassy, he went to Sparta, where, upon the
Lacedaemonians charging him with rebuilding the walls, and Poliarchus
coming on purpose from Aegina to denounce it, he denied the fact,
bidding them to send people to Athens to see whether it were so or no;
by which delay he got time for the building of the wall, and also placed
these ambassadors in the hands of his countrymen as hostages for him;
and so, when the Lacedaemonians knew the truth, they did him no hurt,
but, suppressing all display of their anger for the present, sent him
away.
Next he proceeded to establish the harbor of Piraeus, observing the
great natural advantages of the locality and desirous to unite the whole
city with the sea, and to reverse, in a manner, the policy of ancient
Athenian kings, who, endeavoring to withdraw their subjects from the
sea, and to accustom them to live, not by sailing about, but by planting
and tilling the earth, spread the story of the dispute between Minerva
and Neptune for the sovereignty of Athens, in which Minerva, by
producing to the judges an olive tree, was declared to have won; whereas
Themistocles did not only knead up, as Aristophanes says, the port and
the city into one, but made the city absolutely the dependent and the
adjunct of the port, and the land of the sea, which increased the power
and confidence of the people against the nobility; the authority coming
into the hands of sailors and boatswains and pilots. Thus it was one of
the orders of the thirty tyrants, that the hustings in the assembly,
which had faced towards the sea, should be turned round towards the
land; implying their opinion that the empire by sea had been the origin
of the democracy, and that the farming population were not so much
opposed to oligarchy.
Themistocles, however, formed yet higher designs with a view to naval
supremacy. For, after the departure of Xerxes, when the Grecian fleet
was arrived at Pagasae, where they wintered, Themistocles, in a public
oration to the people of Athens, told them that he had a design to
perform something that would tend greatly to their interests and safety,
but was of such a nature, that it could not be made generally public.
The Athenians ordered him to impart it to Aristides only; and, if he
approved of it, to put it in practice. And when Themistocles had
discovered to him that his design was to burn the Grecian fleet in the
haven of Pagasae, Aristides, coming out to the people, gave this report
of the stratagem contrived by Themistocles, that no proposal could be
more politic, or more dishonorable; on which the Athenians commanded
Themistocles to think no farther of it.
When the Lacedaemonians proposed, at the general council of the
Amphictyonians, that the representatives of those cities which were not
in the league, nor had fought against the Persians, should be excluded,
Themistocles, fearing that the Thessalians, with those of Thebes, Argos,
and others, being thrown out of the council, the Lacedaemonians would
become wholly masters of the votes, and do what they pleased, supported
the deputies of the cities, and prevailed with the members then sitting
to alter their opinion in this point, showing them that there were but
one and thirty cities which had partaken in the war, and that most of
these, also, were very small; how intolerable would it be, if the rest
of Greece should be excluded, and the general council should come to be
ruled by two or three great cities. By this, chiefly, he incurred the
displeasure of the Lacedaemonians, whose honors and favors were now
shown to Cimon, with a view to making him the opponent of the state
policy of Themistocles.
He was also burdensome to the confederates, sailing about the islands
and collecting money from them. Herodotus says, that, requiring money of
those of the island of Andros, he told them that he had brought with him
two goddesses, Persuasion and Force; and they answered him that they had
also two great goddesses, which prohibited them from giving him any
money, Poverty and Impossibility. Timocreon, the Rhodian poet,
reprehends him somewhat bitterly for being wrought upon by money to let
some who were banished return, while abandoning himself, who was his
guest and friend. The verses are these:—
Pausanias you may praise, and Xanthippus he be for, For Leutychidas,
a third; Aristides, I proclaim,
From the sacred Athens came,
The one true man of all; for Themistocles Latona doth abhor
The liar, traitor, cheat, who, to gain his filthy pay,
Timocreon, his friend, neglected to restore
To his native Rhodian shore;
Three silver talents took, and departed (curses with him) on his way,
Restoring people here, expelling there, and killing here, Filling
evermore his purse: and at the Isthmus gave a treat,
To be laughed at, of cold meat,
Which they ate, and prayed the gods some one else might give the feast
another year.
But after the sentence and banishment of Themistocles, Timocreon
reviles him yet more immoderately and wildly in a poem which begins
thus:—
Unto all the Greeks repair
O Muse, and tell these verses there,
As is fitting and is fair.
The story is, that it was put to the question whether Timocreon
should be banished for siding with the Persians, and Themistocles gave
his vote against him. So when Themistocles was accused of intriguing
with the
Medes, Timocreon made these lines upon him:—
So now Timocreon, indeed, is not the sole friend of the Mede,
There are some knaves besides; nor is it only mine that fails,
But other foxes have lost tails. —
When the citizens of Athens began to listen willingly to those who
traduced and reproached him, he was forced, with somewhat obnoxious
frequency, to put them in mind of the great services he had performed,
and ask those who were offended with him whether they were weary with
receiving benefits often from the same person, so rendering himself more
odious. And he yet more provoked the people by building a temple to
Diana with the epithet of Aristobule, or Diana of Best Counsel;
intimating thereby, that he had given the best counsel, not only to the
Athenians, but to all Greece. He built this temple near his own house,
in the district called Melite, where now the public officers carry out
the bodies of such as are executed, and throw the halters and clothes of
those that are strangled or otherwise put to death. There is to this day
a small figure of Themistocles in the temple of Diana of Best Counsel,
which represents him to be a person, not only of a noble mind, but also
of a most heroic aspect. At length the Athenians banished him, making
use of the ostracism to humble his eminence and authority, as they
ordinarily did with all whom they thought too powerful, or, by their
greatness, disproportionable to the equality thought requisite in a
popular government. For the ostracism was instituted, not so much to
punish the offender, as to mitigate and pacify the violence of the
envious, who delighted to humble eminent men, and who, by fixing this
disgrace upon them, might vent some part of their rancor.
Themistocles being banished from Athens, while he stayed at Argos the
detection of Pausanias happened, which gave such advantage to his
enemies, that Leobotes of Agraule, son of Alcmaeon, indicted him of
treason, the Spartans supporting him in the accusation.
When Pausanias went about this treasonable design, he concealed it at
first from Themistocles, though he were his intimate friend; but when he
saw him expelled out of the commonwealth, and how impatiently he took
his banishment, he ventured to communicate it to him, and desired his
assistance, showing him the king of Persia’s letters, and exasperating
him against the Greeks, as a villainous, ungrateful people. However,
Themistocles immediately rejected the proposals of Pausanias, and wholly
refused to be a party in the enterprise, though he never revealed his
communications, nor disclosed the conspiracy to any man, either hoping
that Pausanias would desist from his intentions, or expecting that so
inconsiderate an attempt after such chimerical objects would be
discovered by other means.
After that Pausanias was put to death, letters and writings being
found concerning this matter, which rendered Themistocles suspected, the
Lacedaemonians were clamorous against him, and his enemies among the
Athenians accused him; when, being absent from Athens, he made his
defense by letters, especially against the points that had been
previously alleged against him. In answer to the malicious detractions
of his enemies, he merely wrote to the citizens, urging that he who was
always ambitious to govern, and not of a character or a disposition to
serve, would never sell himself and his country into slavery to a
barbarous and hostile nation.
Notwithstanding this, the people, being persuaded by his accusers,
sent officers to take him and bring him away to be tried before a
council of the Greeks, but, having timely notice of it, he passed over
into the island of Corcyra, where the state was under obligations to
him; for being chosen as arbitrator in a difference between them and the
Corinthians, he decided the controversy by ordering the Corinthians to
pay down twenty talents, and declaring the town and island of Leucas a
joint colony from both cities. From thence he fled into Epirus, and, the
Athenians and Lacedaemonians still pursuing him, he threw himself upon
chances of safety that seemed all but desperate. For he fled for refuge
to Admetus, king of the Molossians, who had formerly made some request
to the Athenians, when Themistocles was in the height of his authority,
and had been disdainfully used and insulted by him, and had let it
appear plain enough, that could he lay hold of him, he would take his
revenge. Yet in this misfortune, Themistocles, fearing the recent hatred
of his neighbors and fellow-citizens more than the old displeasure of
the king, put himself at his mercy, and became a humble suppliant to
Admetus, after a peculiar manner, different from the custom of other
countries. For taking the king’s son, who was then a child, in his arms,
he laid himself down at his hearth, this being the most sacred and only
manner of supplication, among the Molossians, which was not to be
refused. And some say that his wife, Phthia, intimated to Themistocles
this way of petitioning, and placed her young son with him before the
hearth; others, that king Admetus, that he might be under a religious
obligation not to deliver him up to his pursuers, prepared and enacted
with him a sort of stage-play to this effect. At this time, Epicrates of
Acharnae privately conveyed his wife and children out of Athens, and
sent them hither, for which afterwards Cimon condemned him and put him
to death, as Stesimbrotus reports, and yet somehow, either forgetting
this himself, or making Themistocles to be little mindful of it, says
presently that he sailed into Sicily, and desired in marriage the
daughter of Hiero, tyrant of Syracuse, promising to bring the Greeks
under his power; and, on Hiero refusing him, departed thence into Asia;
but this is not probable.
For Theophrastus writes, in his work on Monarchy, that when Hiero
sent race-horses to the Olympian games, and erected a pavilion
sumptuously furnished, Themistocles made an oration to the Greeks,
inciting them to pull down the tyrant’s tent, and not to suffer his
horses to run. Thucydides says, that, passing over land to the Aegaean
Sea, he took ship at Pydna in the bay of Therme, not being known to any
one in the ship, till, being terrified to see the vessel driven by the
winds near to Naxos, which was then besieged by the Athenians, he made
himself known to the master and pilot, and, partly entreating them,
partly threatening that if they went on shore he would accuse them, and
make the Athenians to believe that they did not take him in out of
ignorance, but that he had corrupted them with money from the beginning,
he compelled them to bear off and stand out to sea, and sail forward
towards the coast of Asia.
A great part of his estate was privately conveyed away by his
friends, and sent after him by sea into Asia; besides which there was
discovered and confiscated to the value of fourscore talents, as
Theophrastus writes, Theopompus says a hundred; though Themistocles was
never worth three talents before he was concerned in public affairs.
When he arrived at Cyme, and understood that all along the coast
there were many laid wait for him, and particularly Ergoteles and
Pythodorus (for the game was worth the hunting for such as were thankful
to make money by any means, the king of Persia having offered by public
proclamation two hundred talents to him that should take him), he fled
to Aegae, a small city of the Aeolians, where no one knew him but only
his host Nicogenes, who was the richest man in Aeolia, and well known to
the great men of Inner Asia. While Themistocles lay hid for some days in
his house, one night, after a sacrifice and supper ensuing, Olbius, the
attendant upon Nicogenes’s children, fell into a sort of frenzy and fit
of inspiration, and cried out in verse,—
Night shall speak, and night instruct thee,
By the voice of night conduct thee.
After this, Themistocles, going to bed, dreamed that he saw a snake
coil itself up upon his belly, and so creep to his neck; then, as soon
as it touched his face, it turned into an eagle, which spread its wings
over him, and took him up and flew away with him a great distance; then
there appeared a herald’s golden wand, and upon this at last it set him
down securely, after infinite terror and disturbance.
His departure was effected by Nicogenes by the following artifice;
the barbarous nations, and amongst them the Persians especially, are
extremely jealous, severe, and suspicious about their women, not only
their wives, but also their bought slaves and concubines, whom they keep
so strictly that no one ever sees them abroad; they spend their lives
shut up within doors, and, when they take a journey, are carried in
close tents, curtained in on all sides, and set upon a wagon. Such a
traveling carriage being prepared for Themistocles, they hid him in it,
and carried him on his journeys and told those whom they met or spoke
with upon the road that they were conveying a young Greek woman out of
Ionia to a nobleman at court.
Thucydides and Charon of Lampsacus say that Xerxes was dead, and that
Themistocles had an interview with his son; but Ephorus, Dinon,
Clitarchus, Heraclides, and many others, write that he came to Xerxes.
The chronological tables better agree with the account of Thucydides,
and yet neither can their statements be said to be quite set at rest.
When Themistocles was come to the critical point, he applied himself
first to Artabanus, commander of a thousand men, telling him that he was
a Greek, and desired to speak with the king about important affairs
concerning which the king was extremely solicitous. Artabanus answered
him, “O stranger, the laws of men are different, and one thing is
honorable to one man, and to others another; but it is honorable for all
to honor and observe their own laws. It is the habit of the Greeks, we
are told, to honor, above all things, liberty and equality; but amongst
our many excellent laws, we account this the most excellent, to honor
the king, and to worship him, as the image of the great preserver of the
universe; if, then, you shall consent to our laws, and fall down before
the king and worship him, you may both see him and speak to him; but if
your mind be otherwise, you must make use of others to intercede for
you, for it is not the national custom here for the king to give
audience to anyone that doth not fall down before him.” Themistocles,
hearing this, replied, “Artabanus, I that come hither to increase the
power and glory of the king, will not only submit myself to his laws,
since so it hath pleased the god who exalteth the Persian empire to this
greatness, but will also cause many more to be worshippers and adorers
of the king. Let not this, therefore, be an impediment why I should not
communicate to the king what I have to impart.” Artabanus asking him,
“Who must we tell him that you are? for your words signify you to be no
ordinary person,” Themistocles answered, “No man, O Artabanus, must be
informed of this before the king himself.” Thus Phanias relates; to
which Eratosthenes, in his treatise on Riches, adds, that it was by the
means of a woman of Eretria, who was kept by Artabanus, that he obtained
this audience and interview with him.
When he was introduced to the king, and had paid his reverence to
him, he stood silent, till the king commanding the interpreter to ask
him who he was, he replied, “O king, I am Themistocles the Athenian,
driven into banishment by the Greeks. The evils that I have done to the
Persians are numerous; but my benefits to them yet greater, in
withholding the Greeks from pursuit, so soon as the deliverance of my
own country allowed me to show kindness also to you. I come with a mind
suited to my present calamities; prepared alike for favors and for
anger; to welcome your gracious reconciliation, and to deprecate your
wrath. Take my own countrymen for witnesses of the services I have done
for Persia, and make use of this occasion to show the world your virtue,
rather than to satisfy your indignation. If you save me, you will save
your suppliant; if otherwise, will destroy an enemy of the Greeks.” He
talked also of divine admonitions, such as the vision which he saw at
Nicogenes’s house, and the direction given him by the oracle of Dodona,
where Jupiter commanded him to go to him that had a name like his, by
which he understood that he was sent from Jupiter to him, seeing that
they both were great, and had the name of kings.
The king heard him attentively, and, though he admired his temper and
courage, gave him no answer at that time; but, when he was with his
intimate friends, rejoiced in his great good fortune, and esteemed
himself very happy in this, and prayed to his god Arimanius, that all
his enemies might be ever of the same mind with the Greeks, to abuse and
expel the bravest men amongst them. Then he sacrificed to the gods, and
presently fell to drinking, and was so well pleased, that in the night,
in the middle of his sleep, he cried out for joy three times, “I have
Themistocles the Athenian.”
In the morning, calling together the chief of his court, he had
Themistocles brought before him, who expected no good of it, when he
saw, for example, the guards fiercely set against him as soon as they
learnt his name, and giving him ill language. As he came forward towards
the king, who was seated, the rest keeping silence, passing by Roxanes,
a commander of a thousand men, he heard him, with a slight groan, say,
without stirring out of his place, “You subtle Greek serpent, the king’s
good genius hath brought thee hither.” Yet, when he came into the
presence, and again fell down, the king saluted him, and spoke to him
kindly, telling him he was now indebted to him two hundred talents; for
it was just and reasonable that he should receive the reward which was
proposed to whosoever should bring Themistocles; and promising much
more, and encouraging him, he commanded him to speak freely what he
would concerning the affairs of Greece. Themistocles replied, that a
man’s discourse was like to a rich Persian carpet, the beautiful figures
and patterns of which can only be shown by spreading and extending it
out; when it is contracted and folded up, they are obscured and lost;
and, therefore, he desired time. The king being pleased with the
comparison, and bidding him take what time he would, he desired a year;
in which time, having, learnt the Persian language sufficiently, he
spoke with the king by himself without the help of an interpreter, it
being supposed that he discoursed only about the affairs of Greece; but
there happening, at the same time, great alterations at court, and
removals of the king’s favorites, he drew upon himself the envy of the
great people, who imagined that he had taken the boldness to speak
concerning them. For the favors shown to other strangers were nothing in
comparison with the honors conferred on him; the king invited him to
partake of his own pastimes and recreations both at home and abroad,
carrying him with him a-hunting, and made him his intimate so far that
he permitted him to see the queen-mother, and converse frequently with
her. By the king’s command, he also was made acquainted with the Magian
learning.
When Demaratus the Lacedaemonian, being ordered by the king to ask
whatsoever he pleased, and it should immediately be granted him, desired
that he might make his public entrance, and be carried in state through
the city of Sardis, with the tiara set in the royal manner upon his
head, Mithropaustes, cousin to the king, touched him on the head, and
told him that he had no brains for the royal tiara to cover, and if
Jupiter should give him his lightning and thunder, he would not any the
more be Jupiter for that; the king also repulsed him with anger
resolving never to be reconciled to him, but to be inexorable to all
supplications on his behalf. Yet Themistocles pacified him, and
prevailed with him to forgive him. And it is reported, that the
succeeding kings, in whose reigns there was a greater communication
between the Greeks and Persians, when they invited any considerable
Greek into their service, to encourage him, would write, and promise him
that he should be as great with them as Themistocles had been. They
relate, also, how Themistocles, when he was in great prosperity, and
courted by many, seeing himself splendidly served at his table turned to
his children and said, “Children, we had been undone if we had not been
undone.” Most writers say that he had three cities given him, Magnesia,
Myus, and Lampsacus, to maintain him in bread, meat, and wine. Neanthes
of Cyzicus, and Phanias, add two more, the city of Palaescepsis, to
provide him with clothes, and Percote, with bedding and furniture for
his house.
As he was going down towards the sea-coast to take measures against
Greece, a Persian whose name was Epixyes, governor of the upper Phrygia,
laid wait to kill him, having for that purpose provided a long time
before a number of Pisidians, who were to set upon him when he should
stop to rest at a city that is called Lion’s-head. But Themistocles,
sleeping in the middle of the day, saw the Mother of the gods appear to
him in a dream and say unto him, “Themistocles, keep back from the
Lion’s-head, for fear you fall into the lion’s jaws; for this advice I
expect that your daughter Mnesiptolema should be my servant.”
Themistocles was much astonished, and, when he had made his vows to the
goddess, left the broad road, and, making a circuit, went another way,
changing his intended station to avoid that place, and at night took up
his rest in the fields. But one of the sumpter-horses, which carried the
furniture for his tent, having fallen that day into the river, his
servants spread out the tapestry, which was wet, and hung it up to dry;
in the mean time the Pisidians made towards them with their swords
drawn, and, not discerning exactly by the moon what it was that was
stretched out thought it to be the tent of Themistocles, and that they
should find him resting himself within it; but when they came near, and
lifted up the hangings, those who watched there fell upon them and took
them. Themistocles, having escaped this great danger, in admiration of
the goodness of the goddess that appeared to him, built, in memory of
it, a temple in the city of Magnesia, which he dedicated to Dindymene,
Mother of the gods, in which he consecrated and devoted his daughter
Mnesiptolema to her service.
When he came to Sardis, he visited the temples of the gods, and
observing, at his leisure, their buildings, ornaments, and the number of
their offerings, he saw in the temple of the Mother of the gods, the
statue of a virgin in brass, two cubits high, called the water-bringer.
Themistocles had caused this to be made and set up when he was surveyor
of waters at Athens, out of the fines of those whom he detected in
drawing off and diverting the public water by pipes for their private
use; and whether he had some regret to see this image in captivity, or
was desirous to let the Athenians see in what great credit and authority
he was with the king, he entered into a treaty with the governor of
Lydia to persuade him to send this statue back to Athens, which so
enraged the Persian officer, that he told him he would write the king
word of it. Themistocles, being affrighted hereat, got access to his
wives and concubines, by presents of money to whom, he appeased the fury
of the governor; and afterwards behaved with more reserve and
circumspection, fearing the envy of the Persians, and did not, as
Theopompus writes, continue to travel about Asia, but lived quietly in
his own house in Magnesia, where for a long time he passed his days in
great security, being courted by all, and enjoying rich presents, and
honored equally with the greatest persons in the Persian empire; the
king, at that time, not minding his concerns with Greece, being taken up
with the affairs of Inner Asia.
But when Egypt revolted, being assisted by the Athenians, and the
Greek galleys roved about as far as Cyprus and Cilicia, and Cimon had
made himself master of the seas, the king turned his thoughts thither,
and, bending his mind chiefly to resist the Greeks, and to check the
growth of their power against him, began to raise forces, and send out
commanders, and to dispatch messengers to Themistocles at Magnesia, to
put him in mind of his promise, and to summon him to act against the
Greeks. Yet this did not increase his hatred nor exasperate him against
the Athenians, neither was he any way elevated with the thoughts of the
honor and powerful command he was to have in this war; but judging,
perhaps, that the object would not be attained, the Greeks having at
that time, beside other great commanders, Cimon, in particular, who was
gaining wonderful military successes; but chiefly, being ashamed to
sully the glory of his former great actions, and of his many victories
and trophies, he determined to put a conclusion to his life, agreeable
to its previous course. He sacrificed to the gods, and invited his
friends; and, having entertained them and shaken hands with them, drank
bull’s blood, as is the usual story; as others state, a poison producing
instant death; and ended his days in the city of Magnesia, having lived
sixty-five years, most of which he had spent in politics and in the
wars, in government and command. The king, being informed of the cause
and manner of his death, admired him more than ever, and continued to
show kindness to his friends and relations.
Themistocles left three sons by Archippe, daughter to Lysander of
Alopece, — Archeptolis, Polyeuctus, and Cleophantus. Plato the
philosopher mentions the last as a most excellent horseman, but
otherwise insignificant person; of two sons yet older than these,
Neocles and Diocles, Neocles died when he was young by the bite of a
horse, and Diocles was adopted by his grandfather, Lysander. He had many
daughters, of whom Mnesiptolema, whom he had by a second marriage, was
wife to Archeptolis, her brother by another mother; Italia was married
to Panthoides, of the island of Chios; Sybaris to Nicomedes the
Athenian. After the death of Themistocles, his nephew, Phrasicles, went
to Magnesia, and married, with her brothers’ consent, another daughter,
Nicomache, and took charge of her sister Asia, the youngest of all the
children.
The Magnesians possess a splendid sepulchre of Themistocles, placed
in the middle of their market-place. It is not worthwhile taking notice
of what Andocides states in his Address to his Friends concerning his
remains, how the Athenians robbed his tomb, and threw his ashes into the
air; for he feigns this, to exasperate the oligarchical faction against
the people; and there is no man living but knows that Phylarchus simply
invents in his history, where he all but uses an actual stage machine,
and brings in Neocles and Demopolis as the sons of Themistocles, to
incite or move compassion, as if he were writing a tragedy. Diodorus the
cosmographer says, in his work on Tombs, but by conjecture rather than
of certain knowledge, that near to the haven of Piraeus, where the land
runs out like an elbow from the promontory of Alcimus, when you have
doubled the cape and passed inward where the sea is always calm, there
is a large piece of masonry, and upon this the tomb of Themistocles, in
the shape of an altar; and Plato the comedian confirms this, he
believes, in these verses,—
Thy tomb is fairly placed upon the strand,
Where merchants still shall greet it with the land;
Still in and out ’twill see them come and go,
And watch the galleys as they race below.
Various honors also and privileges were granted to the kindred of
Themistocles at Magnesia, which were observed down to our times, and
were enjoyed by another Themistocles of Athens, with whom I had an
intimate acquaintance and friendship in the house of Ammonius the
philosopher.
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Camillus
Among the many remarkable things that are related of Furius
Camillus, it seems singular and strange above all, that he, who
continually was in the highest commands, and obtained the greatest
successes, was five times chosen dictator, triumphed four times, and was
styled a second founder of Rome, yet never was so much as once consul.
The reason of which was the state and temper of the commonwealth at that
time; for the people, being at dissension with the senate, refused to
return consuls, but in their stead elected other magistrates, called
military tribunes, who acted, indeed, with full consular power, but were
thought to exercise a less obnoxious amount of authority, because it was
divided among a larger number; for to have the management of affairs
entrusted in the hands of six persons rather than two was some
satisfaction to the opponents of oligarchy. This was the condition of
the times when Camillus was in the height of his actions and glory, and,
although the government in the meantime had often proceeded to consular
elections, yet he could never persuade himself to be consul against the
inclination of the people. In all his other administrations, which were
many and various, he so behaved himself, that, when alone in authority,
he exercised his power as in common, but the honor of all actions
redounded entirely to himself, even when in joint commission with
others; the reason of the former was his moderation in command; of the
latter, his great judgment and wisdom, which gave him without
controversy the first place.
The house of the Furii was not, at that time of any considerable
distinction; he, by his own acts, first raised himself to honor, serving
under Postumius Tubertus, dictator, in the great battle against the
Aequians and Volscians. For riding out from the rest of the army, and in
the charge receiving a wound in his thigh, he for all that did not quit
the fight, but, letting the dart drag in the wound, and engaging with
the bravest of the enemy, put them to flight; for which action, among
other rewards bestowed on him, he was created censor, an office in those
days of great repute and authority. During his censorship one very good
act of his is recorded, that, whereas the wars had made many widows, he
obliged such as had no wives, some by fair persuasion, others by
threatening to set fines on their heads, to take them in marriage;
another necessary one, in causing orphans to be rated, who before were
exempted from taxes, the frequent wars requiring more than ordinary
expenses to maintain them. What, however, pressed them most was the
siege of Veii. Some call this people Veientani. This was the head city
of Tuscany, not inferior to Rome, either in number of arms or multitude
of soldiers, insomuch that, presuming on her wealth and luxury, and
priding herself upon her refinement and sumptuousness, she engaged in
many honorable contests with the Romans for glory and empire. But now
they had abandoned their former ambitious hopes, having been weakened by
great defeats, so that, having fortified themselves with high and strong
walls, and furnished the city with all sorts of weapons offensive and
defensive, as likewise with corn and all manner of provisions, they
cheerfully endured a siege, which, though tedious to them, was no less
troublesome and distressing to the besiegers. For the Romans, having
never been accustomed to stay away from home, except in summer, and for
no great length of time, and constantly to winter at home, were then
first compelled by the tribunes to build forts in the enemy’s country,
and, raising strong works about their camp, to join winter and summer
together. And now, the seventh year of the war drawing to an end, the
commanders began to be suspected as too slow and remiss in driving on
the siege, insomuch that they were discharged and others chosen for the
war, among whom was Camillus, then second time tribune. But at present
he had no hand in the siege, the duties that fell by lot to him being to
make war upon the Faliscans and Capenates, who, taking advantage of the
Romans being occupied on all hands, had carried ravages into their
country, and, through all the Tuscan war, given them much annoyance, but
were now reduced by Camillus, and with great loss shut up within their
walls.
And now, in the very heat of the war, a strange phenomenon in the
Alban lake, which, in the absence of any known cause and explanation by
natural reasons, seemed as great a prodigy as the most incredible that
are reported, occasioned great alarm. It was the beginning of autumn,
and the summer now ending had, to all observation, been neither rainy
nor much troubled with southern winds; and of the many lakes, brooks,
and springs of all sorts with which Italy abounds, some were wholly
dried up, others drew very little water with them; all the rivers, as is
usual in summer, ran in a very low and hollow channel. But the Alban
lake, that is fed by no other waters but its own, and is on all sides
encircled with fruitful mountains, without any cause, unless it were
divine, began visibly to rise and swell, increasing to the feet of the
mountains, and by degrees reaching the level of the very tops of them,
and all this without any waves or agitation. At first it was the wonder
of shepherds and herdsmen; but when the earth, which, like a great dam,
held up the lake from falling into the lower grounds, through the
quantity and weight of water was broken down, and in a violent stream it
ran through the plowed fields and plantations to discharge itself in the
sea, it not only struck terror into the Romans, but was thought by all
the inhabitants of Italy to portend some extraordinary event. But the
greatest talk of it was in the camp that besieged Veii, so that in the
town itself, also, the occurrence became known.
As in long sieges it commonly happens that parties on both sides meet
often and converse with one another, so it chanced that a Roman had
gained much confidence and familiarity with one of the besieged, a man
versed in ancient prophecies, and of repute for more than ordinary skill
in divination. The Roman, observing him to be overjoyed at the story of
the lake, and to mock at the siege, told him that this was not the only
prodigy that of late had happened to the Romans; others more wonderful
yet than this had befallen them, which he was willing to communicate to
him, that he might the better provide for his private interests in these
public distempers. The man greedily embraced the proposal, expecting to
hear some wonderful secrets; but when, by little and little, he had led
him on in conversation, and insensibly drawn him a good way from the
gates of the city, he snatched him up by the middle, being stronger than
he, and, by the assistance of others that came running from the camp,
seized and delivered him to the commanders. The man, reduced to this
necessity, and sensible now that destiny was not to be avoided,
discovered to them the secret oracles of Veii; that it was not possible
the city should be taken, until the Alban lake, which now broke forth
and had found out new passages, was drawn back from that course, and so
diverted that it could not mingle with the sea. The senate, having heard
and satisfied themselves about the matter, decreed to send to Delphi, to
ask counsel of the god. The messengers were persons of the highest
repute, Licinius Cossus, Valerius Potitus, and Fabius Ambustus; who,
having made their voyage by sea and consulted the god, returned with
other answers, particularly that there had been a neglect of some of
their national rites relating to the Latin feasts; but the Alban water
the oracle commanded, if it were possible, they should keep from the
sea, and shut it up in its ancient bounds; but if that was not to be
done, then they should carry it off by ditches and trenches into the
lower grounds, and so dry it up; which message being delivered, the
priests performed what related to the sacrifices, and the people went to
work and turned the water.
And now the senate, in the tenth year of the war, taking away all
other commands, created Camillus dictator, who chose Cornelius Scipio
for his general of horse. And in the first place he made vows unto the
gods, that, if they would grant a happy conclusion of the war, he would
celebrate to their honor the great games, and dedicate a temple to the
goddess whom the Romans call Matuta the Mother, though, from the
ceremonies which are used, one would think she was Leucothea. For they
take a servant-maid into the secret part of the temple, and there cuff
her, and drive her out again, and they embrace their brothers’ children
in place of their own; and, in general, the ceremonies of the sacrifice
remind one of the nursing of Bacchus by Ino, and the calamities
occasioned by her husband’s concubine. Camillus, having made these vows,
marched into the country of the Faliscans, and in a great battle
overthrew them and the Capenates, their confederates; afterwards he
turned to the siege of Veii, and, finding that to take it by assault
would prove a difficult and hazardous attempt, proceeded to cut mines
under ground, the earth about the city being easy to break up, and
allowing such depth for the works as would prevent their being
discovered by the enemy. This design going on in a hopeful way, he
openly gave assaults to the enemy, to keep them to the walls, whilst
they that worked underground in the mines were, without being perceived,
arrived within the citadel, close to the temple of Juno, which was the
greatest and most honored in all the city. It is said that the prince of
the Tuscans was at that very time at sacrifice, and that the priest,
after he had looked into the entrails of the beast, cried out with a
loud voice that the gods would give the victory to those that should
complete those offerings; and that the Romans who were in the mines,
hearing the words, immediately pulled down the floor, and, ascending
with noise and clashing of weapons, frightened away the enemy, and,
snatching up the entrails, carried them to Camillus. But this may look
like a fable. The city, however, being taken by storm, and the soldiers
busied in pillaging and gathering an infinite quantity of riches and
spoil, Camillus, from the high tower, viewing what was done, at first
wept for pity; and when they that were by congratulated his good
success, he lifted up his hands to heaven, and broke out into this
prayer: “O most mighty Jupiter, and ye gods that are judges of good and
evil actions, ye know that not without just cause, but constrained by
necessity, we have been forced to revenge ourselves on the city of our
unrighteous and wicked enemies. But if, in the vicissitude of things,
there be any calamity due, to counterbalance this great felicity, I beg
that it may be diverted from the city and army of the Romans, and fall,
with as little hurt as may be, upon my own head.” Having said these
words, and just turning about (as the custom of the Romans is to turn to
the right after adoration or prayer), he stumbled and fell, to the
astonishment of all that were present. But, recovering himself presently
from the fall, he told them that he had received what he had prayed for,
a small mischance, in compensation for the greatest good fortune.
Having sacked the city, he resolved, according as he had vowed, to
carry Juno’s image to Rome; and, the workmen being ready for that
purpose, he sacrificed to the goddess, and made his supplications that
she would be pleased to accept of their devotion toward her, and
graciously vouchsafe to accept of a place among the gods that presided
at Rome; and the statue, they say, answered in a low voice that she was
ready and willing to go. Livy writes, that, in praying, Camillus touched
the goddess, and invited her, and that some of the standers-by cried out
that she was willing and would come. They who stand up for the miracle
and endeavor to maintain it have one great advocate on their side in the
wonderful fortune of the city, which, from a small and contemptible
beginning, could never have attained to that greatness and power without
many signal manifestations of the divine presence and cooperation. Other
wonders of the like nature, drops of sweat seen to stand on statues,
groans heard from them, the figures seen to turn round and to close
their eyes, are recorded by many ancient historians; and we ourselves
could relate divers wonderful things, which we have been told by men of
our own time, that are not lightly to be rejected; but to give too easy
credit to such things, or wholly to disbelieve them, is equally
dangerous, so incapable is human infirmity of keeping any bounds, or
exercising command over itself, running off sometimes to superstition
and dotage, at other times to the contempt and neglect of all that is
supernatural. But moderation is best, and to avoid all extremes.
Camillus, however, whether puffed up with the greatness of his
achievement in conquering a city that was the rival of Rome, and had
held out a ten years’ siege, or exalted with the felicitations of those
that were about him, assumed to himself more than became a civil and
legal magistrate; among other things, in the pride and haughtiness of
his triumph, driving through Rome in a chariot drawn with four white
horses, which no general either before or since ever did; for the Romans
consider such a mode of conveyance to be sacred, and specially set apart
to the king and father of the gods. This alienated the hearts of his
fellow-citizens, who were not accustomed to such pomp and display.
The second pique they had against him was his opposing the law by
which the city was to be divided; for the tribunes of the people brought
forward a motion that the people and senate should be divided into two
parts, one of which should remain at home, the other, as the lot should
decide, remove to the new-taken city. By which means they should not
only have much more room, but by the advantage of two great and
magnificent cities, be better able to maintain their territories and
their fortunes in general. The people, therefore, who were numerous and
indigent, greedily embraced it, and crowded continually to the forum,
with tumultuous demands to have it put to the vote. But the senate and
the noblest citizens, judging the proceedings of the tribunes to tend
rather to a destruction than a division of Rome, greatly averse to it,
went to Camillus for assistance, who, fearing the result if it came to a
direct contest, contrived to occupy the people with other business, and
so staved it off. He thus became unpopular. But the greatest and most
apparent cause of their dislike against him arose from the tenths of the
spoil; the multitude having here, if not a just, yet a plausible case
against him. For it seems, as he went to the siege of Veii, he had vowed
to Apollo that if he took the city he would dedicate to him the tenth of
the spoil. The city being taken and sacked, whether he was loath to
trouble the soldiers at that time, or that through the multitude of
business he had forgotten his vow, he suffered them to enjoy that part
of the spoils also. Some time afterwards, when his authority was laid
down, he brought the matter before the senate, and the priests, at the
same time, reported, out of the sacrifices, that there were intimations
of divine anger, requiring propitiations and offerings. The senate
decreed the obligation to be in force.
But seeing it was difficult for every one to produce the very same
things they had taken, to be divided anew, they ordained that every one
upon oath should bring into the public the tenth part of his gains. This
occasioned many annoyances and hardships to the soldiers, who were poor
men, and had endured much in the war, and now were forced, out of what
they had gained and spent, to bring in so great a proportion. Camillus,
being assaulted by their clamor and tumults, for want of a better
excuse, betook himself to the poorest of defenses, confessing he had
forgotten his vow; they in turn complained that he had vowed the tenth
of the enemy’s goods, and now levied it out of the tenths of the
citizens. Nevertheless, every one having brought in his due proportion,
it was decreed that out of it a bowl of massy gold should be made, and
sent to Delphi. And when there was great scarcity of gold in the city,
and the magistrates were considering where to get it, the Roman ladies,
meeting together and consulting among themselves, out of the golden
ornaments they wore contributed as much as went to the making the
offering, which in weight came to eight talents of gold. The senate, to
give them the honor they had deserved, ordained that funeral orations
should be used at the obsequies of women as well as men, it having never
before been a custom that any woman after death should receive any
public eulogy. Choosing out, therefore, three of the noblest citizens as
a deputation, they sent them in a vessel of war, well manned and
sumptuously adorned. Storm and calm at sea may both, they say, alike be
dangerous; as they at this time experienced, being brought almost to the
very brink of destruction, and, beyond all expectation, escaping. For
near the isles of Solus the wind slacking, galleys of the Lipareans came
upon them, taking them for pirates; and, when they held up their hands
as suppliants, forbore indeed from violence, but took their ship in tow,
and carried her into the harbor, where they exposed to sale their goods
and persons as lawful prize, they being pirates; and scarcely, at last,
by the virtue and interest of one man, Timesitheus by name, who was in
office as general, and used his utmost persuasion, they were, with much
ado, dismissed. He, however, himself sent out some of his own vessels
with them, to accompany them in their voyage and assist them at the
dedication; for which he received honors at Rome, as he had deserved.
And now the tribunes of the people again resuming their motion for
the division of the city, the war against the Faliscans luckily broke
out, giving liberty to the chief citizens to choose what magistrates
they pleased, and to appoint Camillus military tribune, with five
colleagues; affairs then requiring a commander of authority and
reputation, as well as experience. And when the people had ratified the
election, he marched with his forces into the territories of the
Faliscans, and laid seige to Falerii, a well-fortified city, and
plentifully stored with all necessaries of war. And although he
perceived it would be no small work to take it, and no little time would
be required for it, yet he was willing to exercise the citizens and keep
them abroad, that they might have no leisure, idling at home, to follow
the tribunes in factions and seditions; a very common remedy, indeed,
with the Romans, who thus carried off, like good physicians, the ill
humors of their commonwealth. The Falerians, trusting in the strength of
their city, which was well fortified on all sides, made so little
account of the siege, that all, with the exception of those that guarded
the walls, as in times of peace, walked about the streets in their
common dress; the boys went to school, and were led by their master to
play and exercise about the town walls; for the Falerians, like the
Greeks, used to have a single teacher for many pupils, wishing their
children to live and be brought up from the beginning in each other’s
company.
This schoolmaster, designing to betray the Falerians by their
children, led them out every day under the town wall, at first but a
little way, and, when they had exercised, brought them home again.
Afterwards by degrees he drew them farther and farther, till by practice
he had made them bold and fearless, as if no danger was about them; and
at last, having got them all together, he brought them to the outposts
of the Romans, and delivered them up, demanding to be led to Camillus.
Where being come, and standing in the middle, he said that he was the
master and teacher of these children, but, preferring his favor before
all other obligations, he was come to deliver up his charge to him, and,
in that, the whole city. When Camillus had heard him out, he was
astounded at the treachery of the act, and, turning to the standers-by,
observed, that “war, indeed, is of necessity attended with much
injustice and violence! Certain laws, however, all good men observe even
in war itself; nor is victory so great an object as to induce us to
incur for its sake obligations for base and impious acts. A great
general should rely on his own virtue, and not on other men’s vices.”
Which said, he commanded the officers to tear off the man’s clothes, and
bind his hands behind him, and give the boys rods and scourges, to
punish the traitor and drive him back to the city. By this time the
Falerians had discovered the treachery of the schoolmaster, and the
city, as was likely, was full of lamentations and cries for their
calamity, men and women of worth running in distraction about the walls
and gates; when, behold, the boys came whipping their master on, naked
and bound, calling Camillus their preserver and god and father. Insomuch
that it struck not only into the parents, but the rest of the citizens
that saw what was done, such admiration and love of Camillus’s justice,
that, immediately meeting in assembly, they sent ambassadors to him, to
resign whatever they had to his disposal. Camillus sent them to Rome,
where, being brought into the senate, they spoke to this purpose: that
the Romans, preferring justice before victory, had taught them rather to
embrace submission than liberty; they did not so much confess themselves
to be inferior in strength, as they must acknowledge them to be superior
in virtue. The senate remitted the whole matter to Camillus, to judge
and order as he thought fit; who, taking a sum of money of the
Falerians, and, making a peace with the whole nation of the Faliscans,
returned home.
But the soldiers, who had expected to have the pillage of the city,
when they came to Rome empty-handed, railed against Camillus among their
fellow-citizens, as a hater of the people, and one that grudged all
advantage to the poor. Afterwards, when the tribunes of the people again
brought their motion for dividing the city to the vote, Camillus
appeared openly against it, shrinking from no unpopularity, and
inveighing boldly against the promoters of it, and so urging and
constraining the multitude, that, contrary to their inclinations, they
rejected the proposal; but yet hated Camillus. Insomuch that, though a
great misfortune befell him in his family (one of his two sons dying of
a disease), commiseration for this could not in the least make them
abate of their malice. And, indeed, he took this loss with immoderate
sorrow, being a man naturally of a mild and tender disposition, and,
when the accusation was preferred against him, kept his house, and
mourned amongst the women of his family.
His accuser was Lucius Apuleius; the charge, appropriation of the
Tuscan spoils; certain brass gates, part of those spoils, were said to
be in his possession. The people were exasperated against him, and it
was plain they would take hold of any occasion to condemn him.
Gathering, therefore, together his friends and fellow-soldiers, and such
as had borne command with him, a considerable number in all, he besought
them that they would not suffer him to be unjustly overborne by shameful
accusations, and left the mock and scorn of his enemies. His friends,
having advised and consulted among themselves, made answer, that, as to
the sentence, they did not see how they could help him, but that they
would contribute to whatsoever fine should be set upon him. Not able to
endure so great an indignity, he resolved in his anger to leave the city
and go into exile; and so, having taken leave of his wife and his son,
he went silently to the gate of the city, and, there stopping and
turning round, stretched out his hands to the Capitol, and prayed to the
gods, that if, without any fault of his own, but merely through the
malice and violence of the people, he was driven out into banishment,
the Romans might quickly repent of it; and that all mankind might
witness their need for the assistance, and desire for the return of
Camillus.
Thus, like Achilles, having left his imprecations on the citizens, he
went into banishment; so that, neither appearing nor making defense, he
was condemned in the sum of fifteen thousand asses, which, reduced to
silver, makes one thousand five hundred drachmas; for the as was the
money of the time, ten of such copper pieces making the denarius, or
piece of ten. And there is not a Roman but believes that immediately
upon the prayers of Camillus a sudden judgment followed, and that he
received a revenge for the injustice done unto him; which though we
cannot think was pleasant, but rather grievous and bitter to him, yet
was very remarkable, and noised over the whole world; such a punishment
visited the city of Rome, an era of such loss and danger and disgrace so
quickly succeeded; whether it thus fell out by fortune, or it be the
office of some god not to see injured virtue go unavenged.
The first token that seemed to threaten some mischief to ensue was
the death of the censor Julius; for the Romans have a religious
reverence for the office of a censor, and esteem it sacred. The second
was that, just before Camillus went into exile, Marcus Caedicius, a
person of no great distinction, nor of the rank of senator, but esteemed
a good and respectable man, reported to the military tribunes a thing
worthy their consideration: that, going along the night before in the
street called the New Way, and being called by somebody in a loud voice,
he turned about, but could see no one, but heard a voice greater than
human, which said these words, “Go, Marcus Caedicius, and early in the
morning tell the military tribunes that they are shortly to expect the
Gauls.” But the tribunes made a mock and sport with the story, and a
little after came Camillus’s banishment.
The Gauls are of the Celtic race, and are reported to have been
compelled by their numbers to leave their country, which was
insufficient to sustain them all, and to have gone in search of other
homes. And being, many thousands of them, young men and able to bear
arms, and carrying with them a still greater number of women and young
children, some of them, passing the Riphaean mountains, fell upon the
Northern Ocean, and possessed themselves of the farthest parts of
Europe; others, seating themselves between the Pyrenean mountains and
the Alps, lived there a considerable time, near to the Senones and
Celtorii; but, afterwards tasting wine which was then first brought them
out of Italy, they were all so much taken with the liquor, and
transported with the hitherto unknown delight, that, snatching up their
arms and taking their families along with them, they marched directly to
the Alps, to find out the country which yielded such fruit, pronouncing
all others barren and useless. He that first brought wine among them and
was the chief instigator of their coming into Italy is said to have been
one Aruns, a Tuscan, a man of noble extraction, and not of bad natural
character, but involved in the following misfortune. He was guardian to
an orphan, one of the richest of the country, and much admired for his
beauty, whose name was Lucumo. From his childhood he had been bred up
with Aruns in his family and when now grown up did not leave his house,
professing to wish for the enjoyment of his society. And thus for a
great while he secretly enjoyed Aruns’s wife, corrupting her, and
himself corrupted by her. But when they were both so far gone in their
passion that they could neither refrain their lust nor conceal it, the
young man seized the woman and openly sought to carry her away. The
husband, going to law, and finding himself overpowered by the interest
and money of his opponent, left his country, and, hearing of the state
of the Gauls, went to them and was the conductor of their expedition
into Italy.
At their first coming they at once possessed themselves of all that
country which anciently the Tuscans inhabited, reaching from the Alps to
both the seas, as the names themselves testify; for the North or
Adriatic Sea is named from the Tuscan city Adria, and that to the south
the Tuscan Sea simply. The whole country is rich in fruit trees, has
excellent pasture, and is well watered with rivers. It had eighteen
large and beautiful cities, well provided with all the means for
industry and wealth, and all the enjoyments and pleasures of life. The
Gauls cast out the Tuscans, and seated themselves in them. But this was
long before.
The Gauls at this time were besieging Clusium, a Tuscan city. The
Clusinians sent to the Romans for succor desiring them to interpose with
the barbarians by letters and ambassadors. There were sent three of the
family of the Fabii, persons of high rank and distinction in the city.
The Gauls received them courteously, from respect to the name of Rome,
and, giving over the assault which was then making upon the walls, came
to conference with them; when the ambassadors asking what injury they
had received of the Clusinians that they thus invaded their city,
Brennus, king of the Gauls, laughed and made answer, “The Clusinians do
us injury, in that, being able only to till a small parcel of ground,
they must needs possess a great territory, and will not yield any part
to us who are strangers, many in number, and poor. In the same nature, O
Romans, formerly the Albans, Fidenates, and Ardeates, and now lately the
Veientines and Capenates, and many of the Faliscans and Volscians, did
you injury; upon whom ye make war if they do not yield you part of what
they possess, make slaves of them, waste and spoil their country, and
ruin their cities; neither in so doing are cruel or unjust, but follow
that most ancient of all laws, which gives the possessions of the feeble
to the strong; which begins with God and ends in the beasts; since all
these, by nature, seek, the stronger to have advantage over the weaker.
Cease, therefore, to pity the Clusinians whom we besiege, lest ye teach
the Gauls to be kind and compassionate to those that are oppressed by
you.” By this answer the Romans, perceiving that Brennus was not to be
treated with, went into Clusium, and encouraged and stirred up the
inhabitants to make a sally with them upon the barbarians, which they
did either to try their strength or to show their own. The sally being
made, and the fight growing hot about the walls, one of the Fabii,
Quintus Ambustus, being well mounted, and setting spurs to his horse,
made full against a Gaul, a man of huge bulk and stature, whom he saw
riding out at a distance from the rest. At the first he was not
recognized, through the quickness of the conflict and the glittering of
his armor, that precluded any view of him; but when he had overthrown
the Gaul, and was going to gather the spoils, Brennus knew him; and,
invoking the gods to be witnesses, that, contrary to the known and
common law of nations, which is holily observed by all mankind, he who
had come as an ambassador had now engaged in hostility against him, he
drew off his men, and, bidding Clusium farewell, led his army directly
to Rome. But not wishing that it should look as if they took advantage
of that injury, and were ready to embrace any occasion of quarrel, he
sent a herald to demand the man in punishment, and in the meantime
marched leisurely on.
The senate being met at Rome, among many others that spoke against
the Fabii, the priests called fecials were the most decided, who, on the
religious ground, urged the senate that they should lay the whole guilt
and penalty of the fact upon him that committed it, and so exonerate the
rest. These fecials Numa Pompilius, the mildest and justest of kings,
constituted guardians of peace, and the judges and determiners of all
causes by which war may justifiably be made. The senate referring the
whole matter to the people, and the priests there, as well as in the
senate, pleading against Fabius, the multitude, however, so little
regarded their authority, that in scorn and contempt of it they chose
Fabius and the rest of his brothers military tribunes. The Gauls, on
hearing this, in great rage threw aside every delay, and hastened on
with all the speed they could make. The places through which they
marched, terrified with their numbers and the splendor of their
preparations for war, and in alarm at their violence and fierceness,
began to give up their territories as already lost, with little doubt
but their cities would quickly follow; contrary, however, to
expectation, they did no injury as they passed, nor took anything from
the fields; and, as they went by any city, cried out that they were
going to Rome; that the Romans only were their enemies, and that they
took all others for their friends.
Whilst the barbarians were thus hastening with all speed, the
military tribunes brought the Romans into the field to be ready to
engage them, being not inferior to the Gauls in number (for they were no
less than forty thousand foot), but most of them raw soldiers, and such
as had never handled a weapon before. Besides, they had wholly neglected
all religious usages, had not obtained favorable sacrifices, nor made
inquiries of the prophets, natural in danger and before battle. No less
did the multitude of commanders distract and confound their proceedings;
frequently before, upon less occasions, they had chosen a single leader,
with the title of dictator, being sensible of what great importance it
is in critical times to have the soldiers united under one general with
the entire and absolute control placed in his hands. Add to all, the
remembrance of Camillus’s treatment, which made it now seem a dangerous
thing for officers to command without humoring their soldiers. In this
condition they left the city, and encamped by the river Allia, about ten
miles from Rome, and not far from the place where it falls into the
Tiber; and here the Gauls came upon them, and, after a disgraceful
resistance, devoid of order and discipline, they were miserably
defeated. The left wing was immediately driven into the river, and there
destroyed; the right had less damage by declining the shock, and from
the low grounds getting to the tops of the hills, from whence most of
them afterwards dropped into the city; the rest, as many as escaped, the
enemy being weary of the slaughter, stole by night to Veii, giving up
Rome and all that was in it for lost.
This battle was fought about the summer solstice, the moon being at
full, the very same day in which the sad disaster of the Fabii had
happened, when three hundred of that name were at one time cut off by
the Tuscans. But from this second loss and defeat the day got the name
of Alliensis, from the river Allia, and still retains it. The question
of unlucky days, whether we should consider any to be so, and whether
Heraclitus did well in upbraiding Hesiod for distinguishing them into
fortunate and unfortunate, as ignorant that the nature of every day is
the same, I have examined in another place; but upon occasion of the
present subject, I think it will not be amiss to annex a few examples
relating to this matter. On the fifth of their month Hippodromius, which
corresponds to the Athenian Hecatombaeon, the Boeotians gained two
signal victories, the one at Leuctra, the other at Ceressus, about three
hundred years before, when they overcame Lattamyas and the Thessalians,
both which asserted the liberty of Greece. Again, on the sixth of
Boedromion, the Persians were worsted by the Greeks at Marathon; on the
third, at Plataea, as also at Mycale; on the twenty-fifth, at Arbela.
The Athenians, about the full moon in Boedromion, gained their
sea-victory at Naxos under the conduct of Chabrias; on the twentieth, at
Salamis, as we have shown in our treatise on Days. Thargelion was a very
unfortunate month to the barbarians, for in it Alexander overcame
Darius’s generals on the Granicus; and the Carthaginians, on the
twenty-fourth, were beaten by Timoleon in Sicily, on which same day and
month Troy seems to have been taken, as Ephorus, Callisthenes, Damastes,
and Phylarchus state. On the other hand, the month Metagitnion, which in
Boeotia is called Panemus, was not very lucky to the Greeks; for on its
seventh day they were defeated by Antipater, at the battle in Cranon,
and utterly ruined; and before, at Chaeronea, were defeated by Philip;
and on the very same day, same month, and same year, those that went
with Archidamus into Italy were there cut off by the barbarians. The
Carthaginians also observe the twenty-first of the same month, as
bringing with it the largest number and the severest of their losses. I
am not ignorant, that, about the Feast of Mysteries, Thebes was
destroyed the second time by Alexander; and after that, upon the very
twentieth of Boedromion, on which day they lead forth the mystic
Iacchus, the Athenians received a garrison of the Macedonians. On the
selfsame day the Romans lost their army under Caepio by the Cimbrians,
and in a subsequent year, under the conduct of Lucullus, overcame the
Armenians and Tigranes. King Attalus and Pompey died both on their
birthdays. One could reckon up several that have had variety of fortune
on the same day. This day, meantime, is one of the unfortunate ones to
the Romans, and for its sake two others in every month; fear and
superstition, as the custom of it is, more and more prevailing. But I
have discussed this more accurately in my Roman Questions.
And now, after the battle, had the Gauls immediately pursued those
that fled, there had been no remedy but Rome must have wholly been
ruined, and all those who remained in it utterly destroyed; such was the
terror that those who escaped the battle brought with them into the
city, and with such distraction and confusion were themselves in turn
infected. But the Gauls, not imagining their victory to be so
considerable, and overtaken with the present joy, fell to feasting and
dividing the spoil, by which means they gave leisure to those who were
for leaving the city to make their escape, and to those that remained,
to anticipate and prepare for their coming. For they who resolved to
stay at Rome, abandoning the rest of the city, betook themselves to the
Capitol, which they fortified with the help of missiles and new works.
One of their principal cares was of their holy things, most of which
they conveyed into the Capitol. But the consecrated fire the vestal
virgins took, and fled with it, as likewise their other sacred things.
Some write that they have nothing in their charge but the ever-living
fire which Numa had ordained to be worshipped as the principle of all
things; for fire is the most active thing in nature, and all production
is either motion, or attended with motion; all the other parts of
matter, so long as they are without warmth, lie sluggish and dead, and
require the accession of a sort of soul or vitality in the principle of
heat; and upon that accession, in whatever way, immediately receive a
capacity either of acting or being acted upon. And thus Numa, a man
curious in such things, and whose wisdom made it thought that he
conversed with the Muses, consecrated fire, and ordained it to be kept
ever burning, as an image of that eternal power which orders and
actuates all things. Others say that this fire was kept burning in front
of the holy things, as in Greece, for purification, and that there were
other things hid in the most secret part of the temple, which were kept
from the view of all, except those virgins whom they call vestals. The
most common opinion was, that the image of Pallas, brought into Italy by
Aeneas, was laid up there; others say that the Samothracian images lay
there, telling a story how that Dardanus carried them to Troy, and, when
he had built the city, celebrated those rites, and dedicated those
images there; that after Troy was taken, Aeneas stole them away, and
kept them till his coming into Italy. But they who profess to know more
of the matter affirm that there are two barrels, not of any great size,
one of which stands open and has nothing in it, the other full and
sealed up; but that neither of them may be seen but by the most holy
virgins. Others think that they who say this are misled by the fact that
the virgins put most of their holy things into two barrels at this time
of the Gaulish invasion, and hid them underground in the temple of
Quirinus; and that from hence that place to this day bears the name of
Barrels.
However it be, taking the most precious and important things they
had, they fled away with them, shaping their course along the river
side, where Lucius Albinius, a simple citizen of Rome, who among others
was making his escape, overtook them, having his wife, children, and
goods in a cart; and, seeing the virgins dragging along in their arms
the holy things of the gods, in a helpless and weary condition, he
caused his wife and children to get down, and, taking out his goods, put
the virgins in the cart, that they might make their escape to some of
the Greek cities. This devout act of Albinius, and the respect he showed
thus signally to the gods at a time of such extremity, deserved not to
be passed over in silence. But the priests that belonged to other gods,
and the most elderly of the senators, men who had been consuls and had
enjoyed triumphs, could not endure to leave the city; but, putting on
their sacred and splendid robes, Fabius the high-priest performing the
office, they made their prayers to the gods, and, devoting themselves,
as it were, for their country, sat themselves down in their ivory chairs
in the forum, and in that posture expected the event.
On the third day after the battle, Brennus appeared with his army at
the city, and, finding the gates wide open and no guards upon the walls,
first began to suspect it was some design or stratagem, never dreaming
that the Romans were in so desperate a condition. But when he found it
to be so indeed, he entered at the Colline gate, and took Rome, in the
three hundred and sixtieth year, or a little more, after it was built;
if, indeed, it can be supposed probable that an exact chronological
statement has been preserved of events which were themselves the cause
of chronological difficulties about things of later date; of the
calamity itself, however, and of the fact of the capture, some faint
rumors seem to have passed at the time into Greece. Heraclides Ponticus,
who lived not long after these times, in his book upon the Soul, relates
that a certain report came from the west, that an army, proceeding from
the Hyperboreans, had taken a Greek city called Rome, seated somewhere
upon the great sea. But I do not wonder that so fabulous and high-flown
an author as Heraclides should embellish the truth of the story with
expressions about Hyperboreans and the great sea. Aristotle the
philosopher appears to have heard a correct statement of the taking of
the city by the Gauls, but he calls its deliverer Lucius; whereas
Camillus’s surname was not Lucius, but Marcus.
But this is a matter of conjecture.
Brennus, having taken possession of Rome, set a strong guard about
the Capitol, and, going himself down into the forum, was there struck
with amazement at the sight of so many men sitting in that order and
silence, observing that they neither rose at his coming, nor so much as
changed color or countenance, but remained without fear or concern,
leaning upon their staves, and sitting quietly, looking at each other.
The Gauls, for a great while, stood wondering at the strangeness of the
sight not daring to approach or touch them, taking them for an assembly
of superior beings. But when one, bolder than the rest, drew near to
Marcus Papirius, and, putting forth his hand, gently touched his chin
and stroked his long beard, Papirius with his staff struck him a severe
blow on the head; upon which the barbarian drew his sword and slew him.
This was the introduction to the slaughter; for the rest, following his
example, set upon them all and killed them, and dispatched all others
that came in their way; and so went on to the sacking and pillaging the
houses, which they continued for many days ensuing. Afterwards, they
burnt them down to the ground and demolished them, being incensed at
those who kept the Capitol, because they would not yield to summons;
but, on the contrary, when assailed, had repelled them, with some loss,
from their defenses. This provoked them to ruin the whole city, and to
put to the sword all that came to their hands, young and old, men,
women, and children.
And now, the siege of the Capitol having lasted a good while, the
Gauls began to be in want of provision; and dividing their forces, part
of them stayed with their king at the siege, the rest went to forage the
country, ravaging the towns and villages where they came, but not all
together in a body, but in different squadrons and parties; and to such
a confidence had success raised them, that they carelessly rambled about
without the least fear or apprehension of danger. But the greatest and
best ordered body of their forces went to the city of Ardea, where
Camillus then sojourned, having, ever since his leaving Rome,
sequestered himself from all business, and taken to a private life; but
now he began to rouse up himself, and consider not how to avoid or
escape the enemy, but to find out an opportunity to be revenged upon
them. And perceiving that the Ardeatians wanted not men, but rather
enterprise, through the inexperience and timidity of their officers, he
began to speak with the young men, first, to the effect that they ought
not to ascribe the misfortune of the Romans to the courage of their
enemy, nor attribute the losses they sustained by rash counsel to the
conduct of men who had no title to victory; the event had been only an
evidence of the power of fortune; that it was a brave thing even with
danger to repel a foreign and barbarous invader, whose end in conquering
was like fire, to lay waste and destroy, but if they would be courageous
and resolute, he was ready to put an opportunity into their hands to
gain a victory without hazard at all. When he found the young men
embraced the thing, he went to the magistrates and council of the city,
and, having persuaded them also, he mustered all that could bear arms,
and drew them up within the walls, that they might not be perceived by
the enemy, who was near; who, having scoured the country, and now
returned heavy-laden with booty, lay encamped in the plains in a
careless and negligent posture, so that, with the night ensuing upon
debauch and drunkenness, silence prevailed through all the camp. When
Camillus learned this from his scouts, he drew out the Ardeatians, and
in the dead of the night, passing in silence over the ground that lay
between, came up to their works, and, commanding his trumpets to sound
and his men to shout and halloo, he struck terror into them from all
quarters; while drunkenness impeded and sleep retarded their movements.
A few, whom fear had sobered, getting into some order, for awhile
resisted; and so died with their weapons in their hands. But the
greatest part of them, buried in wine and sleep, were surprised without
their arms, and dispatched; and as many of them as by the advantage of
the night got out of the camp were the next day found scattered abroad
and wandering in the fields, and were picked up by the horse that
pursued them.
The fame of this action soon flew through the neighboring cities, and
stirred up the young men from various quarters to come and join
themselves with him. But none were so much concerned as those Romans who
escaped in the battle of Allia, and were now at Veii, thus lamenting
with themselves, “O heavens, what a commander has Providence bereaved
Rome of, to honor Ardea with his actions! And that city, which brought
forth and nursed so great a man, is lost and gone, and we, destitute of
a leader and shut up within strange walls, sit idle, and see Italy
ruined before our eyes. Come, let us send to the Ardeatians to have back
our general, or else, with weapons in our hands, let us go thither to
him; for he is no longer a banished man, nor we citizens, having no
country but what is in the possession of the enemy.” To this they all
agreed, and sent to Camillus to desire him to take the command; but he
answered, that he would not, until they that were in the Capitol should
legally appoint him; for he esteemed them, as long as they were in
being, to be his country; that if they should command him, he would
readily obey; but against their consent he would intermeddle with
nothing. When this answer was returned, they admired the modesty and
temper of Camillus; but they could not tell how to find a messenger to
carry the intelligence to the Capitol, or rather, indeed, it seemed
altogether impossible for any one to get to the citadel whilst the enemy
was in full possession of the city. But among the young men there was
one Pontius Cominius, of ordinary birth, but ambitious of honor, who
proffered himself to run the hazard, and took no letters with him to
those in the Capitol, lest, if he were intercepted, the enemy might
learn the intentions of Camillus; but, putting on a poor dress and
carrying corks under it, he boldly traveled the greatest part of the way
by day, and came to the city when it was dark; the bridge he could not
pass, as it was guarded by the barbarians; so that taking his clothes,
which were neither many nor heavy, and binding them about his head, he
laid his body upon the corks, and, swimming with them, got over to the
city. And avoiding those quarters where he perceived the enemy was
awake, which he guessed at by the lights and noise, he went to the
Carmental gate, where there was greatest silence, and where the hill of
the Capitol is steepest, and rises with craggy and broken rock. By this
way he got up, though with much difficulty, by the hollow of the cliff,
and presented himself to the guards, saluting them, and telling them his
name; he was taken in, and carried to the commanders. And a senate being
immediately called, he related to them in order the victory of Camillus,
which they had not heard of before, and the proceedings of the soldiers;
urging them to confirm Camillus in the command, as on him alone all
their fellow-countrymen outside the city would rely. Having heard and
consulted of the matter, the senate declared Camillus dictator, and sent
back Pontius the same way that he came, who, with the same success as
before, got through the enemy without being discovered, and delivered to
the Romans outside the decision of the senate, who joyfully received it.
Camillus, on his arrival, found twenty thousand of them ready in arms;
with which forces, and those confederates he brought along with him, he
prepared to set upon the enemy.
But at Rome some of the barbarians, passing by chance near the place
at which Pontius by night had got into the Capitol, spied in several
places marks of feet and hands, where he had laid hold and clambered,
and places where the plants that grew to the rock had been rubbed off,
and the earth had slipped, and went accordingly and reported it to the
king, who, coming in person, and viewing it, for the present said
nothing, but in the evening, picking out such of the Gauls as were
nimblest of body, and by living in the mountains were accustomed to
climb, he said to them, “The enemy themselves have shown us a way how to
come at them, which we knew not of before, and have taught us that it is
not so difficult and impossible but that men may overcome it. It would
be a great shame, having begun well, to fail in the end, and to give up
a place as impregnable, when the enemy himself lets us see the way by
which it may be taken; for where it was easy for one man to get up, it
will not be hard for many, one after another; nay, when many shall
undertake it, they will be aid and strength to each other. Rewards and
honors shall be bestowed on every man as he shall acquit himself.”
When the king had thus spoken, the Gauls cheerfully undertook to
perform it, and in the dead of night a good party of them together, with
great silence, began to climb the rock, clinging to the precipitous and
difficult ascent, which yet upon trial offered a way to them, and proved
less difficult than they had expected. So that the foremost of them
having gained the top of all, and put themselves into order, they all
but surprised the outworks, and mastered the watch, who were fast
asleep; for neither man nor dog perceived their coming. But there were
sacred geese kept near the temple of Juno, which at other times were
plentifully fed, but now, by reason that corn and all other provisions
were grown scarce for all, were but in a poor condition. The creature is
by nature of quick sense, and apprehensive of the least noise, so that
these, being moreover watchful through hunger, and restless, immediately
discovered the coming of the Gauls, and, running up and down with their
noise and cackling, they raised the whole camp, while the barbarians on
the other side, perceiving themselves discovered, no longer endeavored
to conceal their attempt, but with shouting and violence advanced to the
assault. The Romans, every one in haste snatching up the next weapon
that came to hand, did what they could on the sudden occasion. Manlius,
a man of consular dignity, of strong body and great spirit, was the
first that made head against them, and, engaging with two of the enemy
at once, with his sword cut off the right arm of one just as he was
lifting up his blade to strike, and, running his target full in the face
of the other, tumbled him headlong down the steep rock; then mounting
the rampart, and there standing with others that came running to his
assistance, drove down the rest of them, who, indeed, to begin, had not
been many, and did nothing worthy of so bold an attempt. The Romans,
having thus escaped this danger, early in the morning took the captain
of the watch and flung him down the rock upon the heads of their
enemies, and to Manlius for his victory voted a reward, intended more
for honor than advantage, bringing him, each man of them, as much as he
received for his daily allowance, which was half a pound of bread, and
one eighth of a pint of wine.
Henceforward, the affairs of the Gauls were daily in a worse and
worse condition; they wanted provisions, being withheld from foraging
through fear of Camillus, and sickness also was amongst them, occasioned
by the number of carcasses that lay in heaps unburied. Being lodged
among the ruins, the ashes, which were very deep, blown about with the
winds and combining with the sultry heats, breathed up, so to say, a dry
and searching air, the inhalation of which was destructive to their
health. But the chief cause was the change from their natural climate,
coming as they did out of shady and hilly countries, abounding in means
of shelter from the heat, to lodge in low, and, in the autumn season,
very unhealthy ground; added to which was the length and tediousness of
the siege, as they had now sat seven months before the Capitol. There
was, therefore, a great destruction among them, and the number of the
dead grew so great, that the living gave up burying them. Neither,
indeed, were things on that account any better with the besieged, for
famine increased upon them, and despondency with not hearing any thing
of Camillus, it being impossible to send any one to him, the city was so
guarded by the barbarians. Things being in this sad condition on both
sides, a motion of treaty was made at first by some of the outposts, as
they happened to speak with one another; which being embraced by the
leading men, Sulpicius, tribune of the Romans, came to a parley with
Brennus, in which it was agreed, that the Romans laying down a thousand
weight of gold, the Gauls upon the receipt of it should immediately quit
the city and territories. The agreement being confirmed by oath on both
sides, and the gold brought forth, the Gauls used false dealing in the
weights, secretly at first, but afterwards openly pulled back and
disturbed the balance; at which the Romans indignantly complaining,
Brennus in a scoffing and insulting manner pulled off his sword and
belt, and threw them both into the scales; and when Sulpicius asked what
that meant, “What should it mean,” says he, “but woe to the conquered?”
which afterwards became a proverbial saying. As for the Romans, some
were so incensed that they were for taking their gold back again, and
returning to endure the siege. Others were for passing by and
dissembling a petty injury, and not to account that the indignity of the
thing lay in paying more than was due, since the paying anything at all
was itself a dishonor only submitted to as a necessity of the times.
Whilst this difference remained still unsettled, both amongst
themselves and with the Gauls, Camillus was at the gates with his army;
and, having learned what was going on, commanded the main body of his
forces to follow slowly after him in good order, and himself with the
choicest of his men hastening on, went at once to the Romans; where all
giving way to him, and receiving him as their sole magistrate, with
profound silence and order, he took the gold out of the scales, and
delivered it to his officers, and commanded the Gauls to take their
weights and scales and depart; saying that it was customary with the
Romans to deliver their country with iron, not with gold. And when
Brennus began to rage, and say that he was unjustly dealt with in such a
breach of contract, Camillus answered that it was never legally made,
and the agreement of no force or obligation; for that himself being
declared dictator, and there being no other magistrate by law, the
engagement had been made with men who had no power to enter into it; but
now they might say anything they had to urge, for he was come with full
power by law to grant pardon to such as should ask it, or inflict
punishment on the guilty, if they did not repent. At this, Brennus broke
into violent anger, and an immediate quarrel ensued; both sides drew
their swords and attacked, but in confusion, as could not otherwise be
amongst houses, and ill narrow lanes and places where it was impossible
to form in any order. But Brennus, presently recollecting himself,
called off his men, and, with the loss of a few only, brought them to
their camp; and, rising in the night with all his forces, left the city,
and, advancing about eight miles, encamped upon the way to Gabii. As
soon as day appeared, Camillus came up with him, splendidly armed
himself, and his soldiers full of courage and confidence; and there
engaging with him in a sharp conflict, which lasted a long while,
overthrew his army with great slaughter, and took their camp. Of those
that fled, some were presently cut off by the pursuers; others, and
these were the greatest number, dispersed hither and thither, and were
dispatched by the people that came sallying out from the neighboring
towns and villages.
Thus Rome was strangely taken, and more strangely recovered, having
been seven whole months in the possession of the barbarians who entered
her a little after the Ides of July, and were driven out about the Ides
of February following. Camillus triumphed, as he deserved, having saved
his country that was lost, and brought the city, so to say, back again
to itself. For those that had fled abroad, together with their wives and
children, accompanied him as he rode in; and those who had been shut up
in the Capitol, and were reduced almost to the point of perishing with
hunger, went out to meet him, embracing each other as they met, and
weeping for joy and, through the excess of the present pleasure, scarce
believing in its truth. And when the priests and ministers of the gods
appeared, bearing the sacred things, which in their flight they had
either hid on the spot, or conveyed away with them, and now openly
showed in safety, the citizens who saw the blessed sight felt as if with
these the gods themselves were again returned unto Rome. After Camillus
had sacrificed to the gods, and purified the city according to the
direction of those properly instructed, he restored the existing
temples, and erected a new one to Rumour, or Voice, informing himself of
the spot in which that voice from heaven came by night to Marcus
Caedicius, foretelling the coming of the barbarian army.
It was a matter of difficulty, and a hard task, amidst so much
rubbish, to discover and redetermine the consecrated places; but by the
zeal of Camillus, and the incessant labor of the priests, it was at last
accomplished. But when it came also to rebuilding the city, which was
wholly demolished, despondency seized the multitude, and a backwardness
to engage in a work for which they had no materials; at a time, too,
when they rather needed relief and repose from their past labors, than
any new demands upon their exhausted strength and impaired fortunes.
Thus insensibly they turned their thoughts again towards Veii, a city
ready-built and well-provided, and gave an opening to the arts of
flatterers eager to gratify their desires, and lent their ears to
seditious language flung out against Camillus; as that, out of ambition
and self-glory, he withheld them from a city fit to receive them,
forcing them to live in the midst of ruins, and to re-erect a pile of
burnt rubbish, that he might be esteemed not the chief magistrate only
and general of Rome, but, to the exclusion of Romulus, its founder,
also. The senate, therefore, fearing a sedition, would not suffer
Camillus, though desirous, to lay down his authority within the year,
though no other dictator had ever held it above six months.
They themselves, meantime, used their best endeavors, by kind
persuasions and familiar addresses, to encourage and to appease the
people, showing them the shrines and tombs of their ancestors, calling
to their remembrance the sacred spots and holy places which Romulus and
Numa or any other of their kings had consecrated and left to their
keeping; and among the strongest religious arguments, urged the head,
newly separated from the body, which was found in laying the foundation
of the Capitol, marking it as a place destined by fate to be the head of
all Italy; and the holy fire which had just been rekindled again, since
the end of the war, by the vestal virgins; “What a disgrace would it be
to them to lose and extinguish this, leaving the city it belonged to, to
be either inhabited by strangers and new-comers, or left a wild pasture
for cattle to graze on?” Such reasons as these, urged with complaint and
expostulation, sometimes in private upon individuals, and sometimes in
their public assemblies, were met, on the other hand, by laments and
protestations of distress and helplessness; entreaties, that, reunited
as they just were, after a sort of shipwreck, naked and destitute, they
would not constrain them to patch up the pieces of a ruined and
shattered city, when they had another at hand ready-built and prepared.
Camillus thought good to refer it to general deliberation, and
himself spoke largely and earnestly in behalf of his country, as also
many others. At last, calling to Lucius Lucretius, whose place it was to
speak first, he commanded him to give his sentence, and the rest as they
followed, in order. Silence being made, and Lucretius just about to
begin, by chance a centurion, passing by outside with his company of the
day-guard, called out with a loud voice to the ensign-bearer to halt and
fix his standard, for this was the best place to stay in. This voice,
coming in that moment of time, and at that crisis of uncertainty and
anxiety for the future, was taken as a direction what was to be done; so
that Lucretius, assuming an attitude of devotion, gave sentence in
concurrence with the gods, as he said, as likewise did all that
followed. Even among the common people it created a wonderful change of
feeling; every one now cheered and encouraged his neighbor, and set
himself to the work, proceeding in it, however, not by any regular lines
or divisions, but every one pitching upon that plot of ground which came
next to hand, or best pleased his fancy; by which haste and hurry in
building, they constructed their city in narrow and ill-designed lanes,
and with houses huddled together one upon another; for it is said that
within the compass of the year the whole city was raised up anew, both
in its public walls and private buildings. The persons, however,
appointed by Camillus to resume and mark out, in this general confusion,
all consecrated places, coming, in their way round the Palatium, to the
chapel of Mars, found the chapel itself indeed destroyed and burnt to
the ground, like everything else, by the barbarians; but whilst they
were clearing the place, and carrying away the rubbish, lit upon
Romulus’s augural staff, buried under a great heap of ashes. This sort
of staff is crooked at one end, and is called lituus; they make use of
it in quartering out the regions of the heavens when engaged in
divination from the flight of birds; Romulus, who was himself a great
diviner, made use of it. But when he disappeared from the earth, the
priests took his staff and kept it, as other holy things, from the touch
of man; and when they now found that, whereas all other things were
consumed, this staff had altogether escaped the flames, they began to
conceive happier hopes of Rome, and to augur from this token its future
everlasting safety.
And now they had scarcely got a breathing time from their trouble,
when a new war came upon them; and the Aequians, Volscians, and Latins
all at once invaded their territories, and the Tuscans besieged Sutrium,
their confederate city. The military tribunes who commanded the army,
and were encamped about the hill Maecius, being closely besieged by the
Latins, and the camp in danger to be lost, sent to Rome, where Camillus
was a third time chosen dictator. Of this war two different accounts are
given; I shall begin with the more fabulous. They say that the Latins
(whether out of pretense, or a real design to revive the ancient
relationship of the two nations) sent to desire of the Romans some
free-born maidens in marriage; that when the Romans were at a loss how
to determine (for on one hand they dreaded a war, having scarcely yet
settled and recovered themselves, and on the other side suspected that
this asking of wives was, in plain terms, nothing else but a demand for
hostages, though covered over with the specious name of intermarriage
and alliance), a certain handmaid, by name Tutula, or, as some call her,
Philotis, persuaded the magistrates to send with her some of the most
youthful and best looking maid-servants, in the bridal dress of noble
virgins, and leave the rest to her care and management; that the
magistrates consenting, chose out as many as she thought necessary for
her purpose, and, adorning them with gold and rich clothes, delivered
them to the Latins, who were encamped not far from the city; that at
night the rest stole away the enemy’s swords, but Tutula or Philotis,
getting to the top of a wild fig-tree, and spreading out a thick woolen
cloth behind her, held out a torch towards Rome, which was the signal
concerted between her and the commanders, without the knowledge,
however, of any other of the citizens, which was the reason that their
issuing out from the city was tumultuous, the officers pushing their men
on, and they calling upon one another’s names, and scarce able to bring
themselves into order; that setting upon the enemy’s works, who either
were asleep or expected no such matter, they took the camp, and
destroyed most of them; and that this was done on the nones of July,
which was then called Quintilis, and that the feast that is observed on
that day is a commemoration of what was then done. For in it, first,
they run out of the city in great crowds, and call out aloud several
familiar and common names, Caius, Marcus, Lucius, and the like, in
representation of the way in which they called to one another when they
went out in such haste. In the next place, the maid-servants, gaily
dressed, run about, playing and jesting upon all they meet, and amongst
themselves, also, use a kind of skirmishing, to show they helped in the
conflict against the Latins; and while eating and drinking, they sit
shaded over with boughs of wild fig-tree, and the day they call Nonae
Caprotinae, as some think from that wild fig-tree on which the
maid-servant held up her torch, the Roman name for a wild fig-tree being
caprificus. Others refer most of what is said or done at this feast to
the fate of Romulus, for, on this day, he vanished outside the gates in
a sudden darkness and storm (some think it an eclipse of the sun), and
from this, the day was called Nonae Caprotinae, the Latin for a goat
being capra, and the place where he disappeared having the name of
Goat’s Marsh, as is stated in his life.
But the general stream of writers prefer the other account of this
war, which they thus relate. Camillus, being the third time chosen
dictator, and learning that the army under the tribunes was besieged by
the Latins and Volscians, was constrained to arm, not only those under,
but also those over, the age of service; and taking a large circuit
round the mountain Maecius, undiscovered by the enemy, lodged his army
on their rear, and then by many fires gave notice of his arrival. The
besieged, encouraged by this, prepared to sally forth and join battle;
but the Latins and Volscians, fearing this exposure to an enemy on both
sides, drew themselves within their works, and fortified their camp with
a strong palisade of trees on every side, resolving to wait for more
supplies from home, and expecting, also, the assistance of the Tuscans,
their confederates. Camillus, detecting their object, and fearing to be
reduced to the same position to which he had brought them, namely, to be
besieged himself, resolved to lose no time; and finding their rampart
was all of timber, and observing that a strong wind constantly at
sun-rising blew off from the mountains, after having prepared a quantity
of combustibles, about break of day he drew forth his forces, commanding
a part with their missiles to assault the enemy with noise and shouting
on the other quarter, whilst he, with those that were to fling in the
fire, went to that side of the enemy’s camp to which the wind usually
blew, and there waited his opportunity. When the skirmish was begun, and
the sun risen, and a strong wind set in from the mountains, he gave the
signal of onset; and, heaping in an infinite quantity of fiery matter,
filled all their rampart with it, so that the flame being fed by the
close timber and wooden palisades, went on and spread into all quarters.
The Latins, having nothing ready to keep it off or extinguish it, when
the camp was now almost full of fire, were driven back within a very
small compass, and at last forced by necessity to come into their
enemy’s hands, who stood before the works ready armed and prepared to
receive them; of these very few escaped, while those that stayed in the
camp were all a prey to the fire, until the Romans, to gain the pillage,
extinguished it.
These things performed, Camillus, leaving his son Lucius in the camp
to guard the prisoners and secure the booty, passed into the enemy’s
country, where, having taken the city of the Aequians and reduced the
Volscians to obedience, he then immediately led his army to Sutrium, not
having heard what had befallen the Sutrians, but making haste to assist
them, as if they were still in danger and besieged by the Tuscans. They,
however, had already surrendered their city to their enemies, and
destitute of all things, with nothing left but their clothes, met
Camillus on the way, leading their wives and children, and bewailing
their misfortune. Camillus himself was struck with compassion, and
perceiving the soldiers weeping, and commiserating their case, while the
Sutrians hung about and clung to them, resolved not to defer revenge,
but that very day to lead his army to Sutrium; conjecturing that the
enemy, having just taken a rich and plentiful city, without an enemy
left within it, nor any from without to be expected, would be found
abandoned to enjoyment and unguarded. Neither did his opinion fail him;
he not only passed through their country without discovery, but came up
to their very gates and possessed himself of the walls, not a man being
left to guard them, but their whole army scattered about in the houses,
drinking and making merry. Nay, when at last they did perceive that the
enemy had seized the city, they were so overloaded with meat and wine,
that few were able so much as to endeavor to escape, but either waited
shamefully for their death within doors, or surrendered themselves to
the conqueror. Thus the city of the Sutrians was twice taken in one day;
and they who were in possession lost it, and they who had lost regained
it, alike by the means of Camillus. For all which actions he received a
triumph, which brought him no less honor and reputation than the two
former ones; for those citizens who before most regarded him with an
evil eye, and ascribed his successes to a certain luck rather than real
merit, were compelled by these last acts of his to allow the whole honor
to his great abilities and energy.
Of all the adversaries and enviers of his glory, Marcus Manlius was
the most distinguished, he who first drove back the Gauls when they made
their night attack upon the Capitol, and who for that reason had been
named Capitolinus. This man, affecting the first place in the
commonwealth, and not able by noble ways to outdo Camillus’s reputation,
took that ordinary course towards usurpation of absolute power, namely,
to gain the multitude, those of them especially that were in debt;
defending some by pleading their causes against their creditors,
rescuing others by force, and not suffering the law to proceed against
them; insomuch that in a short time he got great numbers of indigent
people about him, whose tumults and uproars in the forum struck terror
into the principal citizens. After that Quintius Capitolinus, who was
made dictator to suppress these disorders, had committed Manlius to
prison, the people immediately changed their apparel, a thing never done
but in great and public calamities, and the senate, fearing some tumult,
ordered him to be released. He, however, when set at liberty, changed
not his course, but was rather the more insolent in his proceedings,
filling the whole city with faction and sedition. They chose, therefore,
Camillus again military tribune; and a day being appointed for Manlius
to answer to his charge, the prospect from the place where his trial was
held proved a great impediment to his accusers; for the very spot where
Manlius by night fought with the Gauls overlooked the forum from the
Capitol, so that, stretching forth his hands that way, and weeping, he
called to their remembrance his past actions, raising compassion in all
that beheld him. Insomuch that the judges were at a loss what to do, and
several times adjourned the trial, unwilling to acquit him of the crime,
which was sufficiently proved, and yet unable to execute the law while
his noble action remained, as it were, before their eyes. Camillus,
considering this, transferred the court outside the gates to the
Peteline Grove, from whence there is no prospect of the Capitol. Here
his accuser went on with his charge, and his judges were capable of
remembering and duly resenting his guilty deeds. He was convicted,
carried to the Capitol, and flung headlong from the rock; so that one
and the same spot was thus the witness of his greatest glory, and
monument of his most unfortunate end. The Romans, besides, razed his
house, and built there a temple to the goddess they call Moneta,
ordaining for the future that none of the patrician order should ever
dwell on the Capitoline.
And now Camillus, being called to his sixth tribuneship, desired to
be excused, as being aged, and perhaps not unfearful of the malice of
fortune, and those reverses which seem to ensue upon great prosperity.
But the most apparent pretense was the weakness of his body, for he
happened at that time to be sick; the people, however, would admit of no
excuses, but, crying that they wanted not his strength for horse or for
foot service, but only his counsel and conduct, constrained him to
undertake the command, and with one of his fellow-tribunes to lead the
army immediately against the enemy. These were the Praenestines and
Volscians, who, with large forces, were laying waste the territory of
the Roman confederates. Having marched out with his army, he sat down
and encamped near the enemy, meaning himself to protract the war, or if
there should come any necessity or occasion of fighting, in the mean
time to regain his strength. But Lucius Furius, his colleague, carried
away with the desire of glory, was not to be held in, but, impatient to
give battle, inflamed the inferior officers of the army with the same
eagerness; so that Camillus, fearing he might seem out of envy to be
wishing to rob the young men of the glory of a noble exploit, consented,
though unwillingly, that he should draw out the forces, whilst himself,
by reason of weakness, stayed behind with a few in the camp. Lucius,
engaging rashly, was discomfited, when Camillus, perceiving the Romans
to give ground and fly, could not contain himself, but, leaping from his
bed, with those he had about him ran to meet them at the gates of the
camp, making his way through the flyers to oppose the pursuers; so that
those who had got within the camp turned back at once and followed him,
and those that came flying from without made head again and gathered
about him, exhorting one another not to forsake their general. Thus the
enemy for that time, was stopped in his pursuit. The next day Camillus
drawing out his forces and joining battle with them, overthrew them by
main force, and, following close upon them, entered pell-mell with them
into their camp and took it, slaying the greatest part of them.
Afterwards, having heard that the city Satricum was taken by the
Tuscans, and the inhabitants, all Romans, put to the sword, he sent home
to Rome the main body of his forces and heaviest-armed, and, taking with
him the lightest and most vigorous soldiers, set suddenly upon the
Tuscans, who were in the possession of the city, and mastered them,
slaying some and expelling the rest; and so, returning to Rome with
great spoils, gave signal evidence of their superior wisdom, who, not
mistrusting the weakness and age of a commander endued with courage and
conduct, had rather chosen him who was sickly and desirous to be
excused, than younger men who were forward and ambitious to command.
When, therefore, the revolt of the Tusculans was reported, they gave
Camillus the charge of reducing them, choosing one of his five
colleagues to go with him. And when every one was eager for the place,
contrary to the expectation of all, he passed by the rest and chose
Lucius Furius, the very same man who lately, against the judgment of
Camillus, had rashly hazarded and nearly lost a battle; willing, as it
should seem, to dissemble that miscarriage, and free him from the shame
of it. The Tusculans, hearing of Camillus’s coming against them, made a
cunning attempt at revoking their act of revolt; their fields, as in
times of highest peace, were full of plowman and shepherds; their gates
stood wide open, and their children were being taught in the schools; of
the people, such as were tradesmen, he found in their workshops, busied
about their several employments, and the better sort of citizens walking
in the public places in their ordinary dress; the magistrates hurried
about to provide quarters for the Romans, as if they stood in fear of no
danger and were conscious of no fault. Which arts, though they could not
dispossess Camillus of the conviction he had of their treason, yet
induced some compassion for their repentance; he commanded them to go to
the senate and deprecate their anger, and joined himself as an
intercessor in their behalf, so that their city was acquitted of all
guilt and admitted to Roman citizenship, These were the most memorable
actions of his sixth tribuneship.
After these things, Licinius Stolo raised a great sedition in the
city, and brought the people to dissension with the senate, contending,
that of two consuls one should be chosen out of the commons, and not
both out of the patricians. Tribunes of the people were chosen, but the
election of consuls was interrupted and prevented by the people. And as
this absence of any supreme magistrate was leading to yet further
confusion, Camillus was the fourth time created dictator by the senate,
sorely against the people’s will, and not altogether in accordance with
his own; he had little desire for a conflict with men whose past
services entitled them to tell him that he had achieved far greater
actions in war along with them than in politics with the patricians,
who, indeed, had only put him forward now out of envy; that, if
successful, he might crush the people, or, failing, be crushed himself.
However, to provide as good a remedy as he could for the present,
knowing the day on which the tribunes of the people intended to prefer
the law, he appointed it by proclamation for a general muster, and
called the people from the forum into the Campus, threatening to set
heavy fines upon such as should not obey. On the other side, the
tribunes of the people met his threats by solemnly protesting they would
fine him in fifty thousand drachmas of silver, if he persisted in
obstructing the people from giving their suffrages for the law. Whether
it were, then, that he feared another banishment or condemnation which
would ill become his age and past great actions, or found himself unable
to stem the current of the multitude, which ran strong and violent, he
betook himself, for the present, to his house, and afterwards, for some
days together, professing sickness, finally laid down his dictatorship.
The senate created another dictator; who, choosing Stolo, leader of the
sedition, to be his general of horse, suffered that law to be enacted
and ratified, which was most grievous to the patricians, namely, that no
person whatsoever should possess above five hundred acres of land. Stolo
was much distinguished by the victory he had gained; but, not long
after, was found himself to possess more than he had allowed to others,
and suffered the penalties of his own law.
And now the contention about election of consuls coming on (which was
the main point and original cause of the dissension, and had throughtout
furnished most matter of division between the senate and the people),
certain intelligence arrived, that the Gauls again, proceeding from the
Adriatic Sea, were marching in vast numbers upon Rome. On the very heels
of the report followed manifest acts also of hostility; the country
through which they marched was all wasted, and such as by flight could
not make their escape to Rome were dispersing and scattering among the
mountains. The terror of this war quieted the sedition; nobles and
commons, senate and people together, unanimously chose Camillus the
fifth time dictator; who, though very aged, not wanting much of
fourscore years, yet, considering the danger and necessity of his
country, did not, as before, pretend sickness, or depreciate his own
capacity, but at once undertook the charge, and enrolled soldiers. And,
knowing that the great force of the barbarians lay chiefly in their
swords, with which they laid about them in a rude and inartificial
manner, hacking and hewing the head and shoulders, he caused head-pieces
entire of iron to be made for most of his men, smoothing and polishing
the outside, that the enemy’s swords, lighting upon them, might either
slide off or be broken; and fitted also their shields with a little rim
of brass, the wood itself not being sufficient to bear off the blows.
Besides, he taught his soldiers to use their long javelins in close
encounter, and, by bringing them under their enemy’s swords, to receive
their strokes upon them.
When the Gauls drew near, about the river Anio, dragging a heavy camp
after them, and loaded with infinite spoil, Camillus drew forth his
forces, and planted himself upon a hill of easy ascent, and which had
many dips in it, with the object that the greatest part of his army
might lie concealed, and those who appeared might be thought to have
betaken themselves, through fear, to those upper grounds. And the more
to increase this opinion in them, he suffered them, without any
disturbance, to spoil and pillage even to his very trenches, keeping
himself quiet within his works, which were well fortified; till, at
last, perceiving that part of the enemy were scattered about the country
foraging, and that those that were in the camp did nothing day and night
but drink and revel, in the nighttime he drew up his lightest-armed men,
and sent them out before to impede the enemy while forming into order,
and to harass them when they should first issue out of their camp; and
early in the morning brought down his main body, and set them in battle
array in the lower grounds, a numerous and courageous army, not, as the
barbarians had supposed, an inconsiderable and fearful division. The
first thing that shook the courage of the Gauls was, that their enemies
had, contrary to their expectation, the honor of being aggressors. In
the next place, the light-armed men, falling upon them before they could
get into their usual order or range themselves in their proper
squadrons, so disturbed and pressed upon them, that they were obliged to
fight at random, without any order at all. But at last, when Camillus
brought on his heavy-armed legions, the barbarians, with their swords
drawn, went vigorously to engage them; the Romans, however, opposing
their javelins and receiving the force of their blows on those parts of
their defenses which were well guarded with steel, turned the edge of
their weapons, being made of a soft and ill-tempered metal, so that
their swords bent and doubled up in their hands; and their shields were
pierced through and through, and grew heavy with the javelins that stuck
upon them. And thus forced to quit their own weapons, they endeavored to
take advantage of those of their enemies, laid hold of the javelins with
their hands, and tried to pluck them away. But the Romans, perceiving
them now naked and defenseless, betook themselves to their swords, which
they so well used, that in a little time great slaughter was made in the
foremost ranks, while the rest fled over all parts of the level country;
the hills and upper grounds Camillus had secured beforehand, and their
camp they knew it would not be difficult for the enemy to take, as,
through confidence of victory, they had left it unguarded. This fight,
it is stated, was thirteen years after the sacking of Rome; and from
henceforward the Romans took courage, and surmounted the apprehensions
they had hitherto entertained of the barbarians, whose previous defeat
they had attributed rather to pestilence and a concurrence of mischances
than to their own superior valor. And, indeed, this fear had been
formerly so great, that they made a law, that priests should be excused
from service in war, unless in an invasion from the Gauls.
This was the last military action that ever Camillus performed; for
the voluntary surrender of the city of the Velitrani was but a mere
accessory to it. But the greatest of all civil contests, and the hardest
to be managed, was still to be fought out against the people; who,
returning home full of victory and success, insisted, contrary to
established law, to have one of the consuls chosen out of their own
body. The senate strongly opposed it, and would not suffer Camillus to
lay down his dictatorship, thinking, that, under the shelter of his
great name and authority, they should be better able to contend for the
power of the aristocracy. But when Camillus was sitting upon the
tribunal, dispatching public affairs, an officer, sent by the tribunes
of the people, commanded him to rise and follow him, laying his hand
upon him, as ready to seize and carry him away; upon which, such a noise
and tumult as was never heard before, filled the whole forum; some that
were about Camillus thrusting the officer from the bench, and the
multitude below calling out to him to bring Camillus down. Being at a
loss what to do in these difficulties, he yet laid not down his
authority, but, taking the senators along with him, he went to the
senate-house; but before he entered, besought the gods that they would
bring these troubles to a happy conclusion, solemnly vowing, when the
tumult was ended, to build a temple to Concord. A great conflict of
opposite opinions arose in the senate; but, at last, the most moderate
and most acceptable to the people prevailed, and consent was given, that
of two consuls, one should be chosen from the commonalty. When the
dictator proclaimed this determination of the senate to the people, at
the moment, pleased and reconciled with the senate, as indeed could not
otherwise be, they accompanied Camillus home, with all expressions and
acclamations of joy; and the next day, assembling together, they voted a
temple of Concord to be built, according to Camillus’s vow, facing the
assembly and the forum; and to the feasts, called the Latin holidays,
they added one day more, making four in all; and ordained that, on the
present occasion, the whole people of Rome should sacrifice with
garlands on their heads.
In the election of consuls held by Camillus, Marcus Aemilius was
chosen of the patricians, and Lucius Sextius the first of the
commonalty; and this was the last of all Camillus’s actions. In the year
following, a pestilential sickness infected Rome, which, besides an
infinite number of the common people, swept away most of the
magistrates, among whom was Camillus; whose death cannot be called
immature, if we consider his great age, or greater actions, yet was he
more lamented than all the rest put together that then died of that
distemper.
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Pericles
Caesar once, seeing some wealthy strangers at Rome, carrying up
and down with them in their arms and bosoms young puppy-dogs and
monkeys, embracing and making much of them, took occasion not
unnaturally to ask whether the women in their country were not used to
bear children; by that prince-like reprimand gravely reflecting upon
persons who spend and lavish upon brute beasts that affection and
kindness which nature has implanted in us to be bestowed on those of our
own kind. With like reason may we blame those who misuse that love of
inquiry and observation which nature has implanted in our souls, by
expending it on objects unworthy of the attention either of their eyes
or their ears, while they disregard such as are excellent in themselves,
and would do them good.
The mere outward sense, being passive in responding to the impression
of the objects that come in its way and strike upon it, perhaps cannot
help entertaining and taking notice of everything that addresses it, be
it what it will, useful or unuseful; but, in the exercise of his mental
perception, every man, if he chooses, has a natural power to turn
himself upon all occasions, and to change and shift with the greatest
ease to what he shall himself judge desirable. So that it becomes a
man’s duty to pursue and make after the best and choicest of everything,
that he may not only employ his contemplation, but may also be improved
by it. For as that color is most suitable to the eye whose freshness and
pleasantness stimulates and strengthens the sight, so a man ought to
apply his intellectual perception to such objects as, with the sense of
delight, are apt to call it forth, and allure it to its own proper good
and advantage.
Such objects we find in the acts of virtue, which also produce in the
minds of mere readers about them, an emulation and eagerness that may
lead them on to imitation. In other things there does not immediately
follow upon the admiration and liking of the thing done, any strong
desire of doing the like. Nay, many times, on the very contrary, when we
are pleased with the work, we slight and set little by the workman or
artist himself, as, for instance, in perfumes and purple dyes, we are
taken with the things themselves well enough, but do not think dyers and
perfumers otherwise than low and sordid people. It was not said amiss by
Antisthenes, when people told him that one Ismenias was an excellent
piper, “It may be so,” said he, “but he is but a wretched human being,
otherwise he would not have been an excellent piper.” And king Philip,
to the same purpose, told his son Alexander, who once at a merry-meeting
played a piece of music charmingly and skillfully, “Are you not ashamed,
son, to play so well?” For it is enough for a king, or prince to find
leisure sometimes to hear others sing, and he does the muses quite honor
enough when he pleases to be but present, while others engage in such
exercises and trials of skill.
He who busies himself in mean occupations produces, in the very pains
he takes about things of little or no use, an evidence against himself
of his negligence and indisposition to what is really good. Nor did any
generous and ingenuous young man, at the sight of the statue of Jupiter
at Pisa, ever desire to be a Phidias, or, on seeing that of Juno at
Argos, long to be a Polycletus, or feel induced by his pleasure in their
poems to wish to be an Anacreon or Philetas or Archilochus. For it does
not necessarily follow, that, if a piece of work please for its
gracefulness, therefore he that wrought it deserves our admiration.
Whence it is that neither do such things really profit or advantage the
beholders, upon the sight of which no zeal arises for the imitation of
them, nor any impulse or inclination, which may prompt any desire or
endeavor of doing the like. But virtue, by the bare statement of its
actions, can so affect men’s minds as to create at once both admiration
of the things done and desire to imitate the doers of them. The goods of
fortune we would possess and would enjoy; those of virtue we long to
practice and exercise; we are content to receive the former from others,
the latter we wish others to experience from us. Moral good is a
practical stimulus; it is no sooner seen, than it inspires an impulse to
practice; and influences the mind and character not by a mere imitation
which we look at, but, by the statement of the fact, creates a moral
purpose which we form.
And so we have thought fit to spend our time and pains in writing of
the lives of famous persons; and have composed this tenth book upon that
subject, containing the life of Pericles, and that of Fabius Maximus,
who carried on the war against Hannibal, men alike, as in their other
virtues and good parts, so especially in their mild and upright temper
and demeanor, and in that capacity to bear the cross-grained humors of
their fellow-citizens and colleagues in office which made them both most
useful and serviceable to the interests of their countries. Whether we
take a right aim at our intended purpose, it is left to the reader to
judge by what he shall here find.
Pericles was of the tribe Acamantis, and the township Cholargus, of
the noblest birth both on his father’s and mother’s side. Xanthippus,
his father, who defeated the king of Persia’s generals in the battle at
Mycale, took to wife Agariste, the grandchild of Clisthenes, who drove
out the sons of Pisistratus, and nobly put an end to their tyrannical
usurpation, and moreover made a body of laws, and settled a model of
government admirably tempered and suited for the harmony and safety of
the people.
His mother, being near her time, fancied in a dream that she was
brought to bed of a lion, and a few days after was delivered of
Pericles, in other respects perfectly formed, only his head was somewhat
longish and out of proportion. For which reason almost all the images
and statues that were made of him have the head covered with a helmet,
the workmen apparently being willing not to expose him. The poets of
Athens called him Schinocephalos, or squill-head, from schinos, a
squill, or sea-onion. One of the comic poets, Cratinus, in the Chirons,
tells us that —
Old Chronos once took queen Sedition to wife;
Which two brought to life
That tyrant far-famed,
Whom the gods the supreme skull-compeller have named.
And, in the Nemesis, addresses him —
Come, Jove, thou head of gods.
And a second, Teleclides, says, that now, in embarrassment with
political difficulties, he sits in the city,—
Fainting underneath the load
Of his own head; and now abroad,
From his huge gallery of a pate,
Sends forth trouble to the state.
And a third, Eupolis, in the comedy called the Demi, in a series of
questions about each of the demagogues, whom he makes in the play to
come up from hell, upon Pericles being named last, exclaims,—
And here by way of summary, now we’ve done,
Behold, in brief, the heads of all in one.
The master that taught him music, most authors are agreed, was Damon
(whose name, they say, ought to be pronounced with the first syllable
short). Though Aristotle tells us that he was thoroughly practiced in
all accomplishments of this kind by Pythoclides. Damon, it is not
unlikely, being a sophist, out of policy, sheltered himself under the
profession of music to conceal from people in general his skill in other
things, and under this pretense attended Pericles, the young athlete of
politics, so to say, as his training-master in these exercises. Damon’s
lyre, however, did not prove altogether a successful blind; he was
banished the country by ostracism for ten years, as a dangerous
intermeddler and a favorer of arbitrary power, and, by this means, gave
the stage occasion to play upon him. As, for instance, Plato, the comic
poet, introduces a character, who questions him —
Tell me, if you please,
Since you’re the Chiron who taught Pericles.
Pericles, also, was a hearer of Zeno, the Eleatic, who treated of
natural philosophy in the same manner as Parmenides did, but had also
perfected himself in an art of his own for refuting and silencing
opponents in argument; as Timon of Phlius describes it, —
Also the two-edged tongue of mighty Zeno, who,
Say what one would, could argue it untrue.
But he that saw most of Pericles, and furnished him most especially
with a weight and grandeur of sense, superior to all arts of popularity,
and in general gave him his elevation and sublimity of purpose and of
character, was Anaxagoras of Clazomenae; whom the men of those times
called by the name of Nous, that is, mind, or intelligence, whether in
admiration of the great and extraordinary gift he displayed for the
science of nature, or because that he was the first of the philosophers
who did not refer the first ordering of the world to fortune or chance,
nor to necessity or compulsion, but to a pure, unadulterated
intelligence, which in all other existing mixed and compound things acts
as a principle of discrimination, and of combination of like with like.
For this man, Pericles entertained an extraordinary esteem and
admiration, and, filling himself with this lofty, and, as they call it,
up-in-the-air sort of thought, derived hence not merely, as was natural,
elevation of purpose and dignity of language, raised far above the base
and dishonest buffooneries of mob-eloquence, but, besides this, a
composure of countenance, and a serenity and calmness in all his
movements, which no occurrence whilst he was speaking could disturb, a
sustained and even tone of voice, and various other advantages of a
similar kind, which produced the greatest effect on his hearers. Once,
after being reviled and ill-spoken of all day long in his own hearing by
some vile and abandoned fellow in the open marketplace, where he was
engaged in the dispatch of some urgent affair, he continued his business
in perfect silence, and in the evening returned home composedly, the man
still dogging him at the heels, and pelting him all the way with abuse
and foul language; and stepping into his house, it being by this time
dark, he ordered one of his servants to take a light, and to go along
with the man and see him safe home. Ion, it is true, the dramatic poet,
says that Pericles’s manner in company was somewhat over-assuming and
pompous; and that into his high bearing there entered a good deal of
slightingness and scorn of others; he reserves his commendation for
Cimon’s ease and pliancy and natural grace in society. Ion, however, who
must needs make virtue, like a show of tragedies, include some comic
scenes, we shall not altogether rely upon; Zeno used to bid those who
called Pericles’s gravity the affectation of a charlatan, to go and
affect the like themselves; inasmuch as this mere counterfeiting might
in time insensibly instill into them a real love and knowledge of those
noble qualities.
Nor were these the only advantages which Pericles derived from
Anaxagoras’s acquaintance; he seems also to have become, by his
instructions, superior to that superstition with which an ignorant
wonder at appearances, for example, in the heavens possesses the minds
of people unacquainted with their causes, eager for the supernatural,
and excitable through an inexperience which the knowledge of natural
causes removes, replacing wild and timid superstition by the good hope
and assurance of an intelligent piety.
There is a story, that once Pericles had brought to him from a
country farm of his, a ram’s head with one horn, and that Lampon, the
diviner, upon seeing the horn grow strong and solid out of the midst of
the forehead, gave it as his judgment, that, there being at that time
two potent factions, parties, or interests in the city, the one of
Thucydides and the other of Pericles, the government would come about to
that one of them in whose ground or estate this token or indication of
fate had shown itself. But that Anaxagoras, cleaving the skull in
sunder, showed to the bystanders that the brain had not filled up its
natural place, but being oblong, like an egg, had collected from all
parts of the vessel which contained it, in a point to that place from
whence the root of the horn took its rise. And that, for that time,
Anaxagoras was much admired for his explanation by those that were
present; and Lampon no less a little while after, when Thucydides was
overpowered, and the whole affairs of the state and government came into
the hands of Pericles.
And yet, in my opinion, it is no absurdity to say that they were both
in the right, both natural philosopher and diviner, one justly detecting
the cause of this event, by which it was produced, the other the end for
which it was designed. For it was the business of the one to find out
and give an account of what it was made, and in what manner and by what
means it grew as it did; and of the other to foretell to what end and
purpose it was so made, and what it might mean or portend. Those who say
that to find out the cause of a prodigy is in effect to destroy its
supposed signification as such, do not take notice that, at the same
time, together with divine prodigies, they also do away with signs and
signals of human art and concert, as, for instance, the clashings of
quoits, fire-beacons, and the shadows on sun-dials, every one of which
things has its cause, and by that cause and contrivance is a sign of
something else. But these are subjects, perhaps, that would better befit
another place.
Pericles, while yet but a young man, stood in considerable
apprehension of the people, as he was thought in face and figure to be
very like the tyrant Pisistratus, and those of great age remarked upon
the sweetness of his voice, and his volubility and rapidity in speaking,
and were struck with amazement at the resemblance. Reflecting, too, that
he had a considerable estate, and was descended of a noble family, and
had friends of great influence, he was fearful all this might bring him
to be banished as a dangerous person; and for this reason meddled not at
all with state affairs, but in military service showed himself of a
brave and intrepid nature. But when Aristides was now dead, and
Themistocles driven out, and Cimon was for the most part kept abroad by
the expeditions he made in parts out of Greece, Pericles, seeing things
in this posture, now advanced and took his side, not with the rich and
few, but with the many and poor, contrary to his natural bent, which was
far from democratical; but, most likely, fearing he might fall under
suspicion of aiming at arbitrary power, and seeing Cimon on the side of
the aristocracy, and much beloved by the better and more distinguished
people, he joined the party of the people, with a view at once both to
secure himself and procure means against Cimon.
He immediately entered, also, on quite a new course of life and
management of his time. For he was never seen to walk in any street but
that which led to the marketplace and the council-hall, and he avoided
invitations of friends to supper, and all friendly visiting and
intercourse whatever; in all the time he had to do with the public,
which was not a little, he was never known to have gone to any of his
friends to a supper, except that once when his near kinsman Euryptolemus
married, he remained present till the ceremony of the drink-offering,
and then immediately rose from table and went his way. For these
friendly meetings are very quick to defeat any assumed superiority, and
in intimate familiarity an exterior of gravity is hard to maintain. Real
excellence, indeed, is most recognized when most openly looked into; and
in really good men, nothing which meets the eyes of external observers
so truly deserves their admiration, as their daily common life does that
of their nearer friends. Pericles, however, to avoid any feeling of
commonness, or any satiety on the part of the people, presented himself
at intervals only, not speaking to every business, nor at all times
coming into the assembly, but, as Critolaus says, reserving himself,
like the Salaminian galley, for great occasions, while matters of lesser
importance were dispatched by friends or other speakers under his
direction. And of this number we are told Ephialtes made one, who broke
the power of the council of Areopagus, giving the people, according to
Plato’s expression, so copious and so strong a draught of liberty, that,
growing wild and unruly, like an unmanageable horse, it, as the comic
poets say, —
“ — got beyond all keeping in, Champing at Euboea, and among the
islands leaping in.”
The style of speaking most consonant to his form of life and the
dignity of his views he found, so to say, in the tones of that
instrument with which Anaxagoras had furnished him; of his teaching he
continually availed himself, and deepened the colors of rhetoric with
the dye of natural science. For having, in addition to his great natural
genius, attained, by the study of nature, to use the words of the divine
Plato, this height of intelligence, and this universal consummating
power, and drawing hence whatever might be of advantage to him in the
art of speaking, he showed himself far superior to all others. Upon
which account, they say, he had his nickname given him, though some are
of opinion he was named the Olympian from the public buildings with
which he adorned the city; and others again, from his great power in
public affairs, whether of war or peace. Nor is it unlikely that the
confluence of many attributes may have conferred it on him. However, the
comedies represented at the time, which, both in good earnest and in
merriment, let fly many hard words at him, plainly show that he got that
appellation especially from his speaking; they speak of his “thundering
and lightning” when he harangued the people, and of his wielding a
dreadful thunderbolt in his tongue.
A saying also of Thucydides, the son of Melesias, stands on record,
spoken by him by way of pleasantry upon Pericles’s dexterity. Thucydides
was one of the noble and distinguished citizens, and had been his
greatest opponent; and, when Archidamus, the king of the Lacedaemonians,
asked him whether he or Pericles were the better wrestler, he made this
answer: “When I,” said he, “have thrown him and given him a fair fall,
by persisting that he had no fall, he gets the better of me, and makes
the bystanders, in spite of their own eyes, believe him.” The truth,
however, is, that Pericles himself was very careful what and how he was
to speak, insomuch that, whenever he went up to the hustings, he prayed
the gods that no one word might unawares slip from him unsuitable to the
matter and the occasion.
He has left nothing in writing behind him, except some decrees; and
there are but very few of his sayings recorded; one, for example, is,
that he said Aegina must, like a gathering in a man’s eye, be removed
from Piraeus; and another, that he said he saw already war moving on its
way towards them out of Peloponnesus. Again, when on a time Sophocles,
who was his fellow-commissioner in the generalship, was going on board
with him, and praised the beauty of a youth they met with in the way to
the ship, “Sophocles,” said he, “a general ought not only to have clean
hands, but also clean eyes.” And Stesimbrotus tells us, that, in his
encomium on those who fell in battle at Samos, he said they were become
immortal, as the gods were. “For,” said he, “we do not see them
themselves, but only by the honors we pay them, and by the benefits they
do us, attribute to them immortality; and the like attributes belong
also to those that die in the service of their country.”
Since Thucydides describes the rule of Pericles as an aristocratical
government, that went by the name of a democracy, but was, indeed, the
supremacy of a single great man, while many others say, on the contrary,
that by him the common people were first encouraged and led on to such
evils as appropriations of subject territory; allowances for attending
theaters, payments for performing public duties, and by these bad habits
were, under the influence of his public measures, changed from a sober,
thrifty people, that maintained themselves by their own labors, to
lovers of expense, intemperance, and license, let us examine the cause
of this change by the actual matters of fact.
At the first, as has been said, when he set himself against Cimon’s
great authority, he did caress the people. Finding himself come short of
his competitor in wealth and money, by which advantages the other was
enabled to take care of the poor, inviting every day some one or other
of the citizens that was in want to supper, and bestowing clothes on the
aged people, and breaking down the hedges and enclosures of his grounds,
that all that would might freely gather what fruit they pleased,
Pericles, thus outdone in popular arts, by the advice of one Damonides
of Oea, as Aristotle states, turned to the distribution of the public
moneys; and in a short time having bought the people over, what with
moneys allowed for shows and for service on juries, and what with other
forms of pay and largess, he made use of them against the council of
Areopagus, of which he himself was no member, as having never been
appointed by lot either chief archon, or lawgiver, or king, or captain.
For from of old these offices were conferred on persons by lot, and they
who had acquitted themselves duly in the discharge of them were advanced
to the court of Areopagus. And so Pericles, having secured his power and
interest with the populace, directed the exertions of his party against
this council with such success, that most of those causes and matters
which had been used to be tried there, were, by the agency of Ephialtes,
removed from its cognizance, Cimon, also, was banished by ostracism as a
favorer of the Lacedaemonians and a hater of the people, though in
wealth and noble birth he was among the first, and had won several most
glorious victories over the barbarians, and had filled the city with
money and spoils of war; as is recorded in the history of his life. So
vast an authority had Pericles obtained among the people.
The ostracism was limited by law to ten years; but the
Lacedaemonians, in the mean time, entering with a great army into the
territory of Tanagra, and the Athenians going out against them, Cimon,
coming from his banishment before his time was out, put himself in arms
and array with those of his fellow-citizens that were of his own tribe,
and desired by his deeds to wipe off the suspicion of his favoring the
Lacedaemonians, by venturing his own person along with his country-men.
But Pericles’s friends, gathering in a body, forced him to retire as a
banished man. For which cause also Pericles seems to have exerted
himself more in that than in any battle, and to have been conspicuous
above all for his exposure of himself to danger. All Cimon’s friends,
also, to a man, fell together side by side, whom Pericles had accused
with him of taking part with the Lacedaemonians. Defeated in this battle
on their own frontiers, and expecting a new and perilous attack with
return of spring, the Athenians now felt regret and sorrow for the loss
of Cimon, and repentance for their expulsion of him. Pericles, being
sensible of their feelings, did not hesitate or delay to gratify it, and
himself made the motion for recalling him home. He, upon his return,
concluded a peace betwixt the two cities; for the Lacedaemonians
entertained as kindly feelings towards him as they did the reverse
towards Pericles and the other popular leaders.
Yet some there are who say that Pericles did not propose the order
for Cimon’s return till some private articles of agreement had been made
between them, and this by means of Elpinice, Cimon’s sister; that Cimon,
namely, should go out to sea with a fleet of two hundred ships, and be
commander-in-chief abroad, with a design to reduce the king of Persia’s
territories, and that Pericles should have the power at home.
This Elpinice, it was thought, had before this time procured some
favor for her brother Cimon at Pericles’s hands, and induced him to be
more remiss and gentle in urging the charge when Cimon was tried for his
life; for Pericles was one of the committee appointed by the commons to
plead against him. And when Elpinice came and besought him in her
brother’s behalf, he answered, with a smile, “O Elpinice, you are too
old a woman to undertake such business as this.” But, when he appeared
to impeach him, he stood up but once to speak, merely to acquit himself
of his commission, and went out of court, having done Cimon the least
prejudice of any of his accusers.
How, then, can one believe Idomeneus, who charges Pericles as if he
had by treachery procured the murder of Ephialtes, the popular
statesman, one who was his friend, and of his own party in all his
political course, out of jealousy, forsooth, and envy of his great
reputation? This historian, it seems, having raked up these stories, I
know not whence, has befouled with them a man who, perchance, was not
altogether free from fault or blame, but yet had a noble spirit, and a
soul that was bent on honor; and where such qualities are, there can no
such cruel and brutal passion find harbor or gain admittance. As to
Ephialtes, the truth of the story, as Aristotle has told it, is this:
that having made himself formidable to the oligarchical party, by being
an uncompromising asserter of the people’s rights in calling to account
and prosecuting those who any way wronged them, his enemies, lying in
wait for him, by the means of Aristodicus the Tanagraean, privately
dispatched him.
Cimon, while he was admiral, ended his days in the Isle of Cyprus.
And the aristocratical party, seeing that Pericles was already before
this grown to be the greatest and foremost man of all the city, but
nevertheless wishing there should be somebody set up against him, to
blunt and turn the edge of his power, that it might not altogether prove
a monarchy, put forward Thucydides of Alopece, a discreet person, and a
near kinsman of Cimon’s, to conduct the opposition against him; who,
indeed, though less skilled in warlike affairs than Cimon was, yet was
better versed in speaking and political business, and keeping close
guard in the city, and engaging with Pericles on the hustings, in a
short time brought the government to an equality of parties. For he
would not suffer those who were called the honest and good (persons of
worth and distinction) to be scattered up and down and mix themselves
and be lost among the populace, as formerly, diminishing and obscuring
their superiority amongst the masses; but taking them apart by
themselves and uniting them in one body, by their combined weight he was
able, as it were upon the balance, to make a counter-poise to the other
party.
For, indeed, there was from the beginning a sort of concealed split,
or seam, as it might be in a piece of iron, marking the different
popular and aristocratical tendencies; but the open rivalry and
contention of these two opponents made the gash deep, and severed the
city into the two parties of the people and the few. And so Pericles, at
that time more than at any other, let loose the reins to the people, and
made his policy subservient to their pleasure, contriving continually to
have some great public show or solemnity, some banquet, or some
procession or other in the town to please them, coaxing his countrymen
like children, with such delights and pleasures as were not, however,
unedifying. Besides that every year he sent out threescore galleys, on
board of which there went numbers of the citizens, who were in pay eight
months, learning at the same time and practicing the art of seamanship.
He sent, moreover, a thousand of them into the Chersonese as
planters, to share the land among them by lot, and five hundred more
into the isle of Naxos, and half that number to Andros, a thousand into
Thrace to dwell among the Bisaltae, and others into Italy, when the city
Sybaris, which now was called Thurii, was to be repeopled. And this he
did to ease and discharge the city of an idle, and, by reason of their
idleness, a busy, meddling crowd of people; and at the same time to meet
the necessities and restore the fortunes of the poor townsmen, and to
intimidate, also, and check their allies from attempting any change, by
posting such garrisons, as it were, in the midst of them.
That which gave most pleasure and ornament to the city of Athens, and
the greatest admiration and even astonishment to all strangers, and that
which now is Greece’s only evidence that the power she boasts of and her
ancient wealth are no romance or idle story, was his construction of the
public and sacred buildings. Yet this was that of all his actions in the
government which his enemies most looked askance upon and caviled at in
the popular assemblies, crying out how that the commonwealth of Athens
had lost its reputation and was ill-spoken of abroad for removing the
common treasure of the Greeks from the isle of Delos into their own
custody; and how that their fairest excuse for so doing, namely, that
they took it away for fear the barbarians should seize it, and on
purpose to secure it in a safe place, this Pericles had made
unavailable, and how that “Greece cannot but resent it as an
insufferable affront, and consider herself to be tyrannized over openly,
when she sees the treasure, which was contributed by her upon a
necessity for the war, wantonly lavished out by us upon our city, to
gild her all over, and to adorn and set her forth, as it were some vain
woman, hung round with precious stones and figures and temples, which
cost a world of money.”
Pericles, on the other hand, informed the people, that they were in
no way obliged to give any account of those moneys to their allies, so
long as they maintained their defense, and kept off the barbarians from
attacking them; while in the meantime they did not so much as supply one
horse or man or ship, but only found money for the service; “which
money,” said he, “is not theirs that give it, but theirs that receive
it, if so be they perform the conditions upon which they receive it.”
And that it was good reason, that, now the city was sufficiently
provided and stored with all things necessary for the war, they should
convert the overplus of its wealth to such undertakings, as would
hereafter, when completed, give them eternal honor, and, for the
present, while in process, freely supply all the inhabitants with
plenty. With their variety of workmanship and of occasions for service,
which summon all arts and trades and require all hands to be employed
about them, they do actually put the whole city, in a manner, into
state-pay; while at the same time she is both beautified and maintained
by herself. For as those who are of age and strength for war are
provided for and maintained in the armaments abroad by their pay out of
the public stock, so, it being his desire and design that the
undisciplined mechanic multitude that stayed at home should not go
without their share of public salaries, and yet should not have them
given them for sitting still and doing nothing, to that end he thought
fit to bring in among them, with the approbation of the people, these
vast projects of buildings and designs of works, that would be of some
continuance before they were finished, and would give employment to
numerous arts, so that the part of the people that stayed at home might,
no less than those that were at sea or in garrisons or on expeditions,
have a fair and just occasion of receiving the benefit and having their
share of the public moneys.
The materials were stone, brass, ivory, gold, ebony cypress-wood; and
the arts or trades that wrought and fashioned them were smiths and
carpenters, molders, founders and braziers, stone-cutters, dyers,
goldsmiths, ivory-workers, painters, embroiderers, turners; those again
that conveyed them to the town for use, merchants and mariners and
ship-masters by sea, and by land, cartwrights, cattle-breeders,
waggoners, rope-makers, flax-workers, shoe-makers and leather-dressers,
roadmakers, miners. And every trade in the same nature, as a captain in
an army has his particular company of soldiers under him, had its own
hired company of journeymen and laborers belonging to it banded together
as in array, to be as it were the instrument and body for the
performance of the service. Thus, to say all in a word, the occasions
and services of these public works distributed plenty through every age
and condition.
As then grew the works up, no less stately in size than exquisite in
form, the workmen striving to outvie the material and the design with
the beauty of their workmanship, yet the most wonderful thing of all was
the rapidity of their execution. Undertakings, any one of which singly
might have required, they thought, for their completion, several
successions and ages of men, were every one of them accomplished in the
height and prime of one man’s political service. Although they say, too,
that Zeuxis once, having heard Agatharchus the painter boast of
dispatching his work with speed and ease, replied, “I take a long time.”
For ease and speed in doing a thing do not give the work lasting
solidity or exactness of beauty; the expenditure of time allowed to a
man’s pains beforehand for the production of a thing is repaid by way of
interest with a vital force for its preservation when once produced. For
which reason Pericles’s works are especially admired, as having been
made quickly, to last long. For every particular piece of his work was
immediately, even at that time, for its beauty and elegance, antique;
and yet in its vigor and freshness looks to this day as if it were just
executed. There is a sort of bloom of newness upon those works of his,
preserving them from the touch of time, as if they had some perennial
spirit and undying vitality mingled in the composition of them.
Phidias had the oversight of all the works, and was surveyor-general,
though upon the various portions other great masters and workmen were
employed. For Callicrates and Ictinus built the Parthenon; the chapel at
Eleusis, where the mysteries were celebrated, was begun by Coroebus, who
erected the pillars that stand upon the floor or pavement, and joined
them to the architraves; and after his death Metagenes of Xypete added
the frieze and the upper line of columns; Xenocles of Cholargus roofed
or arched the lantern on the top of the temple of Castor and Pollux; and
the long wall, which Socrates says he himself heard Pericles propose to
the people, was undertaken by Callicrates. This work
Cratinus ridicules, as long in finishing, —
’Tis long since Pericles, if words would do it, Talk’d up the wall;
yet adds not one mite to it.
The Odeum, or music-room, which in its interior was full of seats and
ranges of pillars, and outside had its roof made to slope and descend
from one single point at the top, was constructed, we are told, in
imitation of the king of Persia’s Pavilion; this likewise by Pericles’s
order; which Cratinus again, in his comedy called The Thracian Women,
made an occasion of raillery, —
So, we see here,
Jupiter Long-pate Pericles appear,
Since ostracism time, he’s laid aside his head,
And wears the new Odeum in its stead.
Pericles, also, eager for distinction, then first obtained the decree
for a contest in musical skill to be held yearly at the Panathenaea, and
he himself, being chosen judge, arranged the order and method in which
the competitors should sing and play on the flute and on the harp. And
both at that time, and at other times also, they sat in this music-room
to see and hear all such trials of skill.
The propylaea, or entrances to the Acropolis, were finished in five
years’ time, Mnesicles being the principal architect. A strange accident
happened in the course of building, which showed that the goddess was
not averse to the work, but was aiding and cooperating to bring it to
perfection. One of the artificers, the quickest and the handiest workman
among them all, with a slip of his foot fell down from a great height,
and lay in a miserable condition, the physicians having no hopes of his
recovery. When Pericles was in distress about this, Minerva appeared to
him at night in a dream, and ordered a course of treatment, which he
applied, and in a short time and with great ease cured the man. And upon
this occasion it was that he set up a brass statue of Minerva, surnamed
Health, in the citadel near the altar, which they say was there before.
But it was Phidias who wrought the goddess’s image in gold, and he has
his name inscribed on the pedestal as the workman of it; and indeed the
whole work in a manner was under his charge, and he had, as we have said
already, the oversight over all the artists and workmen, through
Pericles’s friendship for him; and this, indeed, made him much envied,
and his patron shamefully slandered with stories, as if Phidias were in
the habit of receiving, for Pericles’s use, freeborn women that came to
see the works. The comic writers of the town, when they had got hold of
this story, made much of it, and bespattered him with all the ribaldry
they could invent, charging him falsely with the wife of Menippus, one
who was his friend and served as lieutenant under him in the wars; and
with the birds kept by Pyrilampes, an acquaintance of Pericles, who,
they pretended, used to give presents of peacocks to Pericles’s female
friends. And how can one wonder at any number of strange assertions from
men whose whole lives were devoted to mockery, and who were ready at any
time to sacrifice the reputation of their superiors to vulgar envy and
spite, as to some evil genius, when even Stesimbrotus the Thasian has
dared to lay to the charge of Pericles a monstrous and fabulous piece of
criminality with his son’s wife? So very difficult a matter is it to
trace and find out the truth of anything by history, when, on the one
hand, those who afterwards write it find long periods of time
intercepting their view, and, on the other hand, the contemporary
records of any actions and lives, partly through envy and ill-will,
partly through favor and flattery, pervert and distort truth.
When the orators, who sided with Thucydides and his party, were at
one time crying out, as their custom was, against Pericles, as one who
squandered away the public money, and made havoc of the state revenues,
he rose in the open assembly and put the question to the people, whether
they thought that he had laid out much; and they saying, “Too much, a
great deal.” “Then,” said he, “since it is so, let the cost not go to
your account, but to mine; and let the inscription upon the buildings
stand in my name.” When they heard him say thus, whether it were out of
a surprise to see the greatness of his spirit, or out of emulation of
the glory of the works, they cried aloud, bidding him to spend on, and
lay out what he thought fit from the public purse, and to spare no cost,
till all were finished.
At length, coming to a final contest with Thucydides, which of the
two should ostracize the other out of the country, and having gone
through this peril, he threw his antagonist out, and broke up the
confederacy that had been organized against him. So that now all schism
and division being at an end, and the city brought to evenness and
unity, he got all Athens and all affairs that pertained to the Athenians
into his own hands, their tributes, their armies, and their galleys, the
islands, the sea, and their wide-extended power, partly over other
Greeks and partly over barbarians, and all that empire, which they
possessed, founded and fortified upon subject nations and royal
friendships and alliances.
After this he was no longer the same man he had been before, nor as
tame and gentle and familiar as formerly with the populace, so as
readily to yield to their pleasures and to comply with the desires of
the multitude, as a steersman shifts with the winds. Quitting that
loose, remiss, and, in some cases, licentious court of the popular will,
he turned those soft and flowery modulations to the austerity of
aristocratical and regal rule; and employing this uprightly and
undeviatingly for the country’s best interests, he was able generally to
lead the people along, with their own wills and consents, by persuading
and showing them what was to be done; and sometimes, too, urging and
pressing them forward extremely against their will, he made them,
whether they would or no, yield submission to what was for their
advantage. In which, to say the truth, he did but like a skillful
physician, who, in a complicated and chronic disease, as he sees
occasion, at one while allows his patient the moderate use of such
things as please him, at another while gives him keen pains and drugs to
work the cure. For there arising and growing up, as was natural, all
manner of distempered feelings among a people which had so vast a
command and dominion, he alone, as a great master, knowing how to handle
and deal fitly with each one of them, and, in an especial manner, making
that use of hopes and fears, as his two chief rudders, with the one to
check the career of their confidence at any time, with the other to
raise them up and cheer them when under any discouragement, plainly
showed by this, that rhetoric, or the art of speaking, is, in Plato’s
language, the government of the souls of men, and that her chief
business is to address the affections and passions, which are as it were
the strings and keys to the soul, and require a skillful and careful
touch to be played on as they should be. The source of this predominance
was not barely his power of language, but, as Thucydides assures us, the
reputation of his life, and the confidence felt in his character; his
manifest freedom from every kind of corruption, and superiority to all
considerations of money. Notwithstanding he had made the city Athens,
which was great of itself, as great and rich as can be imagined, and
though he were himself in power and interest more than equal to many
kings and absolute rulers, who some of them also bequeathed by will
their power to their children, he, for his part, did not make the
patrimony his father left him greater than it was by one drachma.
Thucydides, indeed, gives a plain statement of the greatness of his
power; and the comic poets, in their spiteful manner, more than hint at
it, styling his companions and friends the new Pisistratidae, and
calling on him to abjure any intention of usurpation, as one whose
eminence was too great to be any longer proportionable to and compatible
with a democracy or popular government. And Teleclides says the
Athenians had surrendered up to him —
The tribute of the cities, and with them, the cities too, to do with
them as he pleases, and undo; To build up, if he likes, stone walls
around a town; and again, if so he likes, to pull them down; Their
treaties and alliances, power, empire, peace, and war, their wealth and
their success forevermore.
Nor was all this the luck of some happy occasion; nor was it the mere
bloom and grace of a policy that flourished for a season; but having for
forty years together maintained the first place among statesmen such as
Ephialtes and Leocrates and Myronides and Cimon and Tolmides and
Thucydides were, after the defeat and banishment of Thucydides, for no
less than fifteen years longer, in the exercise of one continuous
unintermitted command in the office, to which he was annually reelected,
of General, he preserved his integrity unspotted; though otherwise he
was not altogether idle or careless in looking after his pecuniary
advantage; his paternal estate, which of right belonged to him, he so
ordered that it might neither through negligence be wasted or lessened,
nor yet, being so full of business as he was, cost him any great trouble
or time with taking care of it; and put it into such a way of management
as he thought to be the most easy for himself, and the most exact. All
his yearly products and profits he sold together in a lump, and supplied
his household needs afterward by buying everything that he or his family
wanted out of the market. Upon which account, his children, when they
grew to age, were not well pleased with his management, and the women
that lived with him were treated with little cost, and complained of
this way of housekeeping, where everything was ordered and set down from
day to day, and reduced to the greatest exactness; since there was not
there, as is usual in a great family and a plentiful estate, any thing
to spare, or over and above; but all that went out or came in, all
disbursements and all receipts, proceeded as it were by number and
measure. His manager in all this was a single servant, Evangelus by
name, a man either naturally gifted or instructed by Pericles so as to
excel every one in this art of domestic economy.
All this, in truth, was very little in harmony with Anaxagoras’s
wisdom; if, indeed, it be true that he, by a kind of divine impulse and
greatness of spirit, voluntarily quitted his house, and left his land to
lie fallow and to be grazed by sheep like a common. But the life of a
contemplative philosopher and that of an active statesman are, I
presume, not the same thing; for the one merely employs, upon great and
good objects of thought, an intelligence that requires no aid of
instruments nor supply of any external materials; whereas the other, who
tempers and applies his virtue to human uses, may have occasion for
affluence, not as a matter of mere necessity, but as a noble thing;
which was Pericles’s case, who relieved numerous poor citizens.
However, there is a story, that Anaxagoras himself, while Pericles
was taken up with public affairs, lay neglected, and that, now being
grown old, he wrapped himself up with a resolution to die for want of
food; which being by chance brought to Pericles’s ear, he was
horror-struck, and instantly ran thither, and used all the arguments and
entreaties he could to him, lamenting not so much Anaxagoras’s condition
as his own, should he lose such a counselor as he had found him to be;
and that, upon this, Anaxagoras unfolded his robe, and showing himself,
made answer: “Pericles,” said he, “even those who have occasion for a
lamp supply it with oil.”
The Lacedaemonians beginning to show themselves troubled at the
growth of the Athenian power, Pericles, on the other hand, to elevate
the people’s spirit yet more, and to raise them to the thought of great
actions, proposed a decree, to summon all the Greeks in what part
soever, whether of Europe or Asia, every city, little as well as great,
to send their deputies to Athens to a general assembly, or convention,
there to consult and advise concerning the Greek temples which the
barbarians had burnt down, and the sacrifices which were due from them
upon vows they had made to their gods for the safety of Greece when they
fought against the barbarians; and also concerning the navigation of the
sea, that they might henceforward all of them pass to and fro and trade
securely, and be at peace among themselves.
Upon this errand, there were twenty men, of such as were above fifty
years of age, sent by commission; five to summon the Ionians and Dorians
in Asia, and the islanders as far as Lesbos and Rhodes; five to visit
all the places in the Hellespont and Thrace, up to Byzantium; and other
five besides these to go to Boeotia and Phocis and Peloponnesus, and
from hence to pass through the Locrians over to the neighboring
continent, as far as Acarnania and Ambracia; and the rest to take their
course through Euboea to the Oetaeans and the Malian Gulf, and to the
Achaeans of Phthiotis and the Thessalians; all of them to treat with the
people as they passed, and to persuade them to come and take their part
in the debates for settling the peace and jointly regulating the affairs
of Greece.
Nothing was effected, nor did the cities meet by their deputies, as
was desired; the Lacedaemonians, as it is said, crossing the design
underhand, and the attempt being disappointed and baffled first in
Peloponnesus. I thought fit, however, to introduce the mention of it, to
show the spirit of the man and the greatness of his thoughts.
In his military conduct, he gained a great reputation for wariness;
he would not by his good-will engage in any fight which had much
uncertainty or hazard; he did not envy the glory of generals whose rash
adventures fortune favored with brilliant success, however they were
admired by others; nor did he think them worthy his imitation, but
always used to say to his citizens that, so far as lay in his power,
they should continue immortal, and live forever. Seeing Tolmides, the
son of Tolmaeus, upon the confidence of his former successes, and
flushed with the honor his military actions had procured him, making
preparation to attack the Boeotians in their own country, when there was
no likely opportunity, and that he had prevailed with the bravest and
most enterprising of the youth to enlist themselves as volunteers in the
service, who besides his other force made up a thousand, he endeavored
to withhold him and to advise him from it in the public assembly,
telling him in a memorable saying of his, which still goes about, that,
if he would not take Pericles’s advice, yet he would not do amiss to
wait and be ruled by time, the wisest counselor of all. This saying, at
that time, was but slightly commended; but within a few days after, when
news was brought that Tolmides himself had been defeated and slain in
battle near Coronea, and that many brave citizens had fallen with him,
it gained him great repute as well as good-will among the people, for
wisdom and for love of his countrymen.
But of all his expeditions, that to the Chersonese gave most
satisfaction and pleasure, having proved the safety of the Greeks who
inhabited there. For not only by carrying along with him a thousand
fresh citizens of Athens he gave new strength and vigor to the cities,
but also by belting the neck of land, which joins the peninsula to the
continent, with bulwarks and forts from sea to sea, he put a stop to the
inroads of the Thracians, who lay all about the Chersonese, and closed
the door against a continual and grievous war, with which that country
had been long harassed, lying exposed to the encroachments and influx of
barbarous neighbors, and groaning under the evils of a predatory
population both upon and within its borders.
Nor was he less admired and talked of abroad for his sailing round
the Peloponnesus, having set out from Pegae, or The Fountains, the port
of Megara, with a hundred galleys. For he not only laid waste the
sea-coast, as Tolmides had done before, but also, advancing far up into
main land with the soldiers he had on board, by the terror of his
appearance drove many within their walls; and at Nemea, with main force,
routed and raised a trophy over the Sicyonians, who stood their ground
and joined battle with him. And having taken on board a supply of
soldiers into the galleys, out of Achaia, then in league with Athens he
crossed with the fleet to the opposite continent, and, sailing along by
the mouth of the river Achelous overran Acarnania, and shut up the
Oeniadae within their city walls, and having ravaged and wasted their
country, weighed anchor for home with the double advantage of having
shown himself formidable to his enemies, and at the same time safe and
energetic to his fellow-citizens; for there was not so much as any
chance-miscarriage that happened, the whole voyage through, to those who
were under his charge.
Entering also the Euxine Sea with a large and finely equipped fleet,
he obtained for the Greek cities any new arrangements they wanted, and
entered into friendly relations with them; and to the barbarous nations,
and kings and chiefs round about them, displayed the greatness of the
power of the Athenians, their perfect ability and confidence to sail
wherever they had a mind, and to bring the whole sea under their
control. He left the Sinopians thirteen ships of war, with soldiers
under the command of Lamachus, to assist them against Timesileus the
tyrant; and when he and his accomplices had been thrown out, obtained a
decree that six hundred of the Athenians that were willing should sail
to Sinope and plant themselves there with the Sinopians, sharing among
them the houses and land which the tyrant and his party had previously
held.
But in other things he did not comply with the giddy impulses of the
citizens, nor quit his own resolutions to follow their fancies, when,
carried away with the thought of their strength and great success, they
were eager to interfere again in Egypt, and to disturb the king of
Persia’s maritime dominions. Nay, there were a good many who were, even
then, possessed with that unblessed and inauspicious passion for Sicily,
which afterward the orators of Alcibiades’s party blew up into a flame.
There were some also who dreamt of Tuscany and of Carthage, and not
without plausible reason in their present large dominion and the
prosperous course of their affairs.
But Pericles curbed this passion for foreign conquest, and
unsparingly pruned and cut down their ever busy fancies for a multitude
of undertakings; and directed their power for the most part to securing
and consolidating what they had already got, supposing it would be quite
enough for them to do, if they could keep the Lacedaemonians in check;
to whom he entertained all along a sense of opposition; which, as upon
many other occasions, so he particularly showed by what he did in the
time of the holy war. The Lacedaemonians, having gone with an army to
Delphi, restored Apollo’s temple, which the Phocians had got into their
possession, to the Delphians; immediately after their departure,
Pericles, with another army, came and restored the Phocians. And the
Lacedaemonians having engraven the record of their privilege of
consulting the oracle before others, which the Delphians gave them, upon
the forehead of the brazen wolf which stands there, he, also, having
received from the Phocians the like privilege for the Athenians, had it
cut upon the same wolf of brass on his right side.
That he did well and wisely in thus restraining the exertions of the
Athenians within the compass of Greece, the events themselves that
happened afterward bore sufficient witness. For, in the first place, the
Euboeans revolted, against whom he passed over with forces; and then,
immediately after, news came that the Megarians were turned their
enemies, and a hostile army was upon the borders of Attica, under the
conduct of Plistoanax, king of the Lacedaemonians. Wherefore Pericles
came with his army back again in all haste out of Euboea, to meet the
war which threatened at home; and did not venture to engage a numerous
and brave army eager for battle; but perceiving that Plistoanax was a
very young man, and governed himself mostly by the counsel and advice of
Cleandrides, whom the ephors had sent with him, by reason of his youth,
to be a kind of guardian and assistant to him, he privately made trial
of this man’s integrity, and, in a short time, having corrupted him with
money, prevailed with him to withdraw the Peloponnesians out of Attica.
When the army had retired and dispersed into their several states, the
Lacedaemonians in anger fined their king in so large a sum of money,
that, unable to pay it, he quitted Lacedaemon; while Cleandrides fled,
and had sentence of death passed upon him in his absence. This was the
father of Gylippus, who overpowered the Athenians in Sicily. And it
seems that this covetousness was an hereditary disease transmitted from
father to son; for Gylippus also afterwards was caught in foul
practices, and expelled from Sparta for it. But this we have told at
large in the account of Lysander.
When Pericles, in giving up his accounts of this expedition, stated a
disbursement of ten talents, as laid out upon fit occasion, the people,
without any question, nor troubling themselves to investigate the
mystery, freely allowed of it. And some historians, in which number is
Theophrastus the philosopher, have given it as a truth that Pericles
every year used to send privately the sum of ten talents to Sparta, with
which he complimented those in office, to keep off the war; not to
purchase peace neither, but time, that he might prepare at leisure, and
be the better able to carry on war hereafter.
Immediately after this, turning his forces against the revolters, and
passing over into the island of Euboea with fifty sail of ships and five
thousand men in arms, he reduced their cities, and drove out the
citizens of the Chalcidians, called Hippobotae, horse-feeders, the chief
persons for wealth and reputation among them; and removing all the
Histiaeans out of the country, brought in a plantation of Athenians in
their room; making them his one example of severity, because they had
captured an Attic ship and killed all on board.
After this, having made a truce between the Athenians and
Lacedaemonians for thirty years, he ordered, by public decree, the
expedition against the Isle of Samos, on the ground, that, when they
were bid to leave off their war with the Milesians, they had not
complied. And as these measures against the Samians are thought to have
been taken to please Aspasia, this may be a fit point for inquiry about
the woman, what art or charming faculty she had that enabled her to
captivate, as she did, the greatest statesmen, and to give the
philosophers occasion to speak so much about her, and that, too, not to
her disparagement. That she was a Milesian by birth, the daughter of
Axiochus, is a thing acknowledged. And they say it was in emulation of
Thargelia, a courtesan of the old Ionian times, that she made her
addresses to men of great power. Thargelia was a great beauty, extremely
charming, and at the same time sagacious; she had numerous suitors among
the Greeks, and brought all who had to do with her over to the Persian
interest, and by their means, being men of the greatest power and
station, sowed the seeds of the Median faction up and down in several
cities. Aspasia, some say, was courted and caressed by Pericles upon
account of her knowledge and skill in politics. Socrates himself would
sometimes go to visit her, and some of his acquaintance with him; and
those who frequented her company would carry their wives with them to
listen to her. Her occupation was any thing but creditable, her house
being a home for young courtesans. Aeschines tells us also, that
Lysicles, a sheep-dealer, a man of low birth and character, by keeping
Aspasia company after Pericles’s death, came to be a chief man in
Athens. And in Plato’s Menexenus, though we do not take the introduction
as quite serious, still thus much seems to be historical, that she had
the repute of being resorted to by many of the Athenians for instruction
in the art of speaking. Pericles’s inclination for her seems, however,
to have rather proceeded from the passion of love. He had a wife that
was near of kin to him, who had been married first to Hipponicus, by
whom she had Callias, surnamed the Rich; and also she brought Pericles,
while she lived with him, two sons, Xanthippus and Paralus. Afterwards,
when they did not well agree nor like to live together, he parted with
her, with her own consent, to another man, and himself took Aspasia, and
loved her with wonderful affection; every day, both as he went out and
as he came in from the marketplace, he saluted and kissed her.
In the comedies she goes by the nicknames of the new Omphale and
Deianira, and again is styled Juno. Cratinus, in downright terms, calls
her a harlot.
To find him a Juno the goddess of lust
Bore that harlot past shame,
Aspasia by name.
It should seem, also, that he had a son by her; Eupolis, in his Demi,
introduced Pericles asking after his safety, and Myronides replying,
“My son?” “He lives; a man he had been long, But that the
harlot-mother did him wrong.”
Aspasia, they say, became so celebrated and renowned, that Cyrus
also, who made war against Artaxerxes for the Persian monarchy, gave her
whom he loved the best of all his concubines the name of Aspasia, who
before that was called Milto. She was a Phocaean by birth, the daughter
of one Hermotimus, and, when Cyrus fell in battle, was carried to the
king, and had great influence at court. These things coming into my
memory as I am writing this story, it would be unnatural for me to omit
them.
Pericles, however, was particularly charged with having proposed to
the assembly the war against the Samians, from favor to the Milesians,
upon the entreaty of Aspasia. For the two states were at war for the
possession of Priene; and the Samians, getting the better, refused to
lay down their arms and to have the controversy betwixt them decided by
arbitration before the Athenians. Pericles, therefore, fitting out a
fleet, went and broke up the oligarchical government at Samos, and,
taking fifty of the principal men of the town as hostages, and as many
of their children, sent them to the isle of Lemnos, there to be kept,
though he had offers, as some relate, of a talent a piece for himself
from each one of the hostages, and of many other presents from those who
were anxious not to have a democracy. Moreover, Pissuthnes the Persian,
one of the king’s lieutenants, bearing some good-will to the Samians,
sent him ten thousand pieces of gold to excuse the city. Pericles,
however, would receive none of all this; but after he had taken that
course with the Samians which he thought fit, and set up a democracy
among them, sailed back to Athens.
But they, however, immediately revolted, Pissuthnes having privily
got away their hostages for them, and provided them with means for the
war. Whereupon Pericles came out with a fleet a second time against
them, and found them not idle nor slinking away, but manfully resolved
to try for the dominion of the sea. The issue was, that, after a sharp
sea-fight about the island called Tragia, Pericles obtained a decisive
victory, having with forty-four ships routed seventy of the enemy’s,
twenty of which were carrying soldiers.
Together with his victory and pursuit, having made himself master of
the port, he laid siege to the Samians, and blocked them up, who yet,
one way or other, still ventured to make sallies, and fight under the
city walls. But after that another greater fleet from Athens was
arrived, and that the Samians were now shut up with a close leaguer on
every side, Pericles, taking with him sixty galleys, sailed out into the
main sea, with the intention, as most authors give the account, to meet
a squadron of Phoenician ships that were coming for the Samians’ relief,
and to fight them at as great distance as could be from the island; but,
as Stesimbrotus says, with a design of putting over to Cyprus; which
does not seem to be probable. But whichever of the two was his intent,
it seems to have been a miscalculation. For on his departure, Melissus,
the son of Ithagenes, a philosopher, being at that time general in
Samos, despising either the small number of the ships that were left or
the inexperience of the commanders, prevailed with the citizens to
attack the Athenians. And the Samians having won the battle, and taken
several of the men prisoners, and disabled several of the ships, were
masters of the sea, and brought into port all necessaries they wanted
for the war, which they had not before. Aristotle says, too, that
Pericles himself had been once before this worsted by this Melissus in a
sea-fight.
The Samians, that they might requite an affront which had before been
put upon them, branded the Athenians, whom they took prisoners, in their
foreheads, with the figure of an owl. For so the Athenians had marked
them before with a Samaena, which is a sort of ship, low and flat in the
prow, so as to look snub-nosed, but wide and large and well-spread in
the hold, by which it both carries a large cargo and sails well. And it
was so called, because the first of that kind was seen at Samos, having
been built by order of Polycrates the tyrant. These brands upon the
Samians’ foreheads, they say, are the allusion in the passage of
Aristophanes, where he says, —
For, oh, the Samians are a lettered people.
Pericles, as soon as news was brought him of the disaster that had
befallen his army, made all the haste he could to come in to their
relief, and having defeated Melissus, who bore up against him, and put
the enemy to flight, he immediately proceeded to hem them in with a
wall, resolving to master them and take the town, rather with some cost
and time, than with the wounds and hazards of his citizens. But as it
was a hard matter to keep back the Athenians, who were vexed at the
delay, and were eagerly bent to fight, he divided the whole multitude
into eight parts, and arranged by lot that that part which had the white
bean should have leave to feast and take their ease, while the other
seven were fighting. And this is the reason, they say, that people, when
at any time they have been merry, and enjoyed themselves, call it white
day, in allusion to this white bean.
Ephorus the historian tells us besides, that Pericles made use of
engines of battery in this siege, being much taken with the curiousness
of the invention, with the aid and presence of Artemon himself, the
engineer, who, being lame, used to be carried about in a litter, where
the works required his attendance, and for that reason was called
Periphoretus. But Heraclides Ponticus disproves this out of Anacreon’s
poems, where mention is made of this Artemon Periphoretus several ages
before the Samian war, or any of these occurrences. And he says that
Artemon, being a man who loved his ease, and had a great apprehension of
danger, for the most part kept close within doors, having two of his
servants to hold a brazen shield over his head, that nothing might fall
upon him from above; and if he were at any time forced upon necessity to
go abroad, that he was carried about in a little hanging bed, close to
the very ground, and that for this reason he was called Periphoretus.
In the ninth month, the Samians surrendering themselves and
delivering up the town, Pericles pulled down their walls, and seized
their shipping, and set a fine of a large sum of money upon them, part
of which they paid down at once, and they agreed to bring in the rest by
a certain time, and gave hostages for security. Duris the Samian makes a
tragical drama out of these events, charging the Athenians and Pericles
with a great deal of cruelty, which neither Thucydides, nor Ephorus, nor
Aristotle have given any relation of, and probably with little regard to
truth; how, for example, he brought the captains and soldiers of the
galleys into the market-place at Miletus, and there having bound them
fast to boards for ten days, then, when they were already all but half
dead, gave order to have them killed by beating out their brains with
clubs, and their dead bodies to be flung out into the open streets and
fields, unburied. Duris, however, who even where he has no private
feeling concerned, is not wont to keep his narrative within the limits
of truth, is the more likely upon this occasion to have exaggerated the
calamities which befell his country, to create odium against the
Athenians. Pericles, however, after the reduction of Samos, returning
back to Athens, took care that those who died in the war should be
honorably buried, and made a funeral harangue, as the custom is, in
their commendation at their graves, for which he gained great
admiration. As he came down from the stage on which he spoke, the rest
of the women came and complimented him, taking him by the hand, and
crownings him with garlands and ribbons, like a victorious athlete in
the games; but Elpinice, coming near to him, said, “These are brave
deeds, Pericles, that you have done, and such as deserve our chaplets;
who have lost us many a worthy citizen, not in a war with Phoenicians or
Medes, like my brother Cimon, but for the overthrow of an allied and
kindred city.” As Elpinice spoke these words, he, smiling quietly, as it
is said, returned her answer with this verse, —
Old women should not seek to be perfumed.
Ion says of him, that, upon this exploit of his, conquering the
Samians, he indulged very high and proud thoughts of himself: whereas
Agamemnon was ten years taking a barbarous city, he had in nine months’
time vanquished and taken the greatest and most powerful of the Ionians.
And indeed it was not without reason that he assumed this glory to
himself, for, in real truth, there was much uncertainty and great hazard
in this war, if so be, as Thucydides tells us, the Samian state were
within a very little of wresting the whole power and dominion of the sea
out of the Athenians’ hands.
After this was over, the Peloponnesian war beginning to break out in
full tide, he advised the people to send help to the Corcyrseans, who
were attacked by the Corinthians, and to secure to themselves an island
possessed of great naval resources, since the Peloponnesians were
already all but in actual hostilities against them. The people readily
consenting to the motion, and voting an aid and succor for them, he
dispatched Lacedaemonius, Cimon’s son, having only ten ships with him,
as it were out of a design to affront him; for there was a great
kindness and friendship betwixt Cimon’s family and the Lacedaemonians;
so, in order that Lacedaemonius might lie the more open to a charge, or
suspicion at least, of favoring the Lacedaemonians and playing false, if
he performed no considerable exploit in this service, he allowed him a
small number of ships, and sent him out against his will; and indeed he
made it somewhat his business to hinder Cimon’s sons from rising in the
state, professing that by their very names they were not to be looked
upon as native and true Athenians, but foreigners and strangers, one
being called Lacedaemonius, another Thessalus, and the third Eleus; and
they were all three of them, it was thought, born of an Arcadian woman.
Being, however, ill spoken of on account of these ten galleys, as having
afforded but a small supply to the people that were in need, and yet
given a great advantage to those who might complain of the act of
intervention, Pericles sent out a larger force afterward to Corcyra,
which arrived after the fight was over. And when now the Corinthians,
angry and indignant with the Athenians, accused them publicly at
Lacedaemon, the Megarians joined with them, complaining that they were,
contrary to common right and the articles of peace sworn to among the
Greeks, kept out and driven away from every market and from all ports
under the control of the Athenians. The Aeginetans, also, professing to
be ill-used and treated with violence, made supplications in private to
the Lacedaemonians for redress, though not daring openly to call the
Athenians in question. In the meantime, also, the city Potidaea, under
the dominion of the Athenians, but a colony formerly of the Corinthians,
had revolted, and was beset with a formal siege, and was a further
occasion of precipitating the war.
Yet notwithstanding all this, there being embassies sent to Athens,
and Archidamus, the king of the Lacedaemonians, endeavoring to bring the
greater part of the complaints and matters in dispute to a fair
determination, and to pacify and allay the heats of the allies, it is
very likely that the war would not upon any other grounds of quarrel
have fallen upon the Athenians, could they have been prevailed with to
repeal the ordinance against the Megarians, and to be reconciled to
them. Upon which account, since Pericles was the man who mainly opposed
it, and stirred up the people’s passions to persist in their contention
with the Megarians, he was regarded as the sole cause of the war.
They say, moreover, that ambassadors went, by order from Lacedaemon
to Athens about this very business, and that when Pericles was urging a
certain law which made it illegal to take down or withdraw the tablet of
the decree, one of the ambassadors, Polyalces by name, said, “Well, do
not take it down then, but turn it; there is no law, I suppose, which
forbids that;” which, though prettily said, did not move Pericles from
his resolution. There may have been, in all likelihood, something of a
secret grudge and private animosity which he had against the Megarians.
Yet, upon a public and open charge against them, that they had
appropriated part of the sacred land on the frontier, he proposed a
decree that a herald should be sent to them, and the same also to the
Lacedaemonians, with an accusation of the Megarians; an order which
certainly shows equitable and friendly proceeding enough. And after that
the herald who was sent, by name Anthemocritus, died, and it was
believed that the Megarians had contrived his death, then Charinus
proposed a decree against them, that there should be an irreconcilable
and implacable enmity thenceforward betwixt the two commonwealths; and
that if any one of the Megarians should but set his foot in Attica, he
should be put to death; and that the commanders, when they take the
usual oath, should, over and above that, swear that they will twice
every year make an inroad into the Megarian country; and that
Anthemocritus should be buried near the Thriasian Gates, which are now
called the Dipylon, or Double Gate.
On the other hand, the Megarians, utterly denying and disowning the
murder of Anthemocritus, throw the whole matter upon Aspasia and
Pericles, availing themselves of the famous verses in the Acharnians,
To Megara some of our madcaps ran,
And stole Simaetha thence, their courtesan.
Which exploit the Megarians to outdo,
Came to Aspasia’s house, and took off two.
The true occasion of the quarrel is not so easy to find out. But of
inducing the refusal to annul the decree, all alike charge Pericles.
Some say he met the request with a positive refusal, out of high spirit
and a view of the state’s best interests, accounting that the demand
made in those embassies was designed for a trial of their compliance,
and that a concession would be taken for a confession of weakness, as if
they durst not do otherwise; while other some there are who say that it
was rather out of arrogance and a willful spirit of contention, to show
his own strength, that he took occasion to slight the Lacedaemonians.
The worst motive of all, which is confirmed by most witnesses, is to the
following effect. Phidias the Molder had, as has before been said,
undertaken to make the statue of Minerva. Now he, being admitted to
friendship with Pericles, and a great favorite of his, had many enemies
upon this account, who envied and maligned him; who also, to make trial
in a case of his, what kind of judges the commons would prove, should
there be occasion to bring Pericles himself before them, having tampered
with Menon, one who had been a workman with Phidias, stationed him ill
the market-place, with a petition desiring public security upon his
discovery and impeachment of Phidias. The people admitting the man to
tell his story, and the prosecution proceeding in the assembly, there
was nothing of theft or cheat proved against him; for Phidias, from the
very first beginning, by the advice of Pericles, had so wrought and
wrapt the gold that was used in the work about the statue, that they
might take it all off and make out the just weight of it, which Pericles
at that time bade the accusers do. But the reputation of his works was
what brought envy upon Phidias, especially that where he represents the
fight of the Amazons upon the goddesses’ shield, he had introduced a
likeness of himself as a bald old man holding up a great stone with both
hands, and had put in a very fine representation of Pericles fighting
with an Amazon. And the position of the hand, which holds out the spear
in front of the face, was ingeniously contrived to conceal in some
degree the likeness, which, meantime, showed itself on either side.
Phidias then was carried away to prison, and there died of a disease;
but, as some say, of poison, administered by the enemies of Pericles, to
raise a slander, or a suspicion, at least, as though he had procured it.
The informer Menon, upon Glycon’s proposal, the people made free from
payment of taxes and customs, and ordered the generals to take care that
nobody should do him any hurt. About the same time, Aspasia was indicted
of impiety, upon the complaint of Hermippus the comedian, who also laid
further to her charge that she received into her house freeborn women
for the uses of Pericles. And Diopithes proposed a decree, that public
accusation should be laid against persons who neglected religion, or
taught new doctrines about things above, directing suspicion, by means
of Anaxagoras, against Pericles himself. The people receiving and
admitting these accusations and complaints, at length, by this means,
they came to enact a decree, at the motion of Dracontides, that Pericles
should bring in the accounts of the moneys he had expended, and lodge
them with the Prytanes; and that the judges, carrying their suffrage
from the altar in the Acropolis, should examine and determine the
business in the city. This last clause Hagnon took out of the decree,
and moved that the causes should be tried before fifteen hundred jurors,
whether they should be styled prosecutions for robbery, or bribery, or
any kind of malversation. Aspasia, Pericles begged off, shedding, as
Aeschines says, many tears at the trial, and personally entreating the
jurors. But fearing how it might go with Anaxagoras, he sent him out of
the city. And finding that in Phidias’s case he had miscarried with the
people, being afraid of impeachment, he kindled the war, which hitherto
had lingered and smothered, and blew it up into a flame; hoping, by that
means, to disperse and scatter these complaints and charges, and to
allay their jealousy; the city usually throwing herself upon him alone,
and trusting to his sole conduct, upon the urgency of great affairs and
public dangers, by reason of his authority and the sway he bore.
These are given out to have been the reasons which induced Pericles
not to suffer the people of Athens to yield to the proposals of the
Lacedaemonians; but their truth is uncertain.
The Lacedaemonians, for their part, feeling sure that if they could
once remove him, they might be at what terms they pleased with the
Athenians, sent them word that they should expel the “Pollution” with
which Pericles on the mother’s side was tainted, as Thucydides tells us.
But the issue proved quite contrary to what those who sent the message
expected; instead of bringing Pericles under suspicion and reproach,
they raised him into yet greater credit and esteem with the citizens, as
a man whom their enemies most hated and feared. In the same way, also,
before Archidamus, who was at the head of the Peloponnesians, made his
invasion into Attica, he told the Athenians beforehand, that if
Archidamus, while he laid waste the rest of the country, should forbear
and spare his estate, either on the ground of friendship or right of
hospitality that was betwixt them, or on purpose to give his enemies an
occasion of traducing him, that then he did freely bestow upon the state
all that his land and the buildings upon it for the public use. The
Lacedaemonians, therefore, and their allies, with a great army, invaded
the Athenian territories, under the conduct of king Archidamus, and
laying waste the country, marched on as far as Acharnae, and there
pitched their camp, presuming that the Athenians would never endure
that, but would come out and fight them for their country’s and their
honor’s sake. But Pericles looked upon it as dangerous to engage in
battle, to the risk of the city itself, against sixty thousand
men-at-arms of Peloponnesians and Boeotians; for so many they were in
number that made the inroad at first; and he endeavored to appease those
who were desirous to fight, and were grieved and discontented to see how
things went, and gave them good words, saying, that “trees, when they
are lopped and cut, grow up again in a short time but men, being once
lost, cannot easily be recovered.” He did not convene the people into an
assembly, for fear lest they should force him to act against his
judgment; but, like a skillful steersman or pilot of a ship, who, when a
sudden squall comes on, out at sea, makes all his arrangements, sees
that all is tight and fast, and then follows the dictates of his skill,
and minds the business of the ship, taking no notice of the tears and
entreaties of the sea-sick and fearful passengers, so he, having shut up
the city gates, and placed guards at all posts for security, followed
his own reason and judgment, little regarding those that cried out
against him and were angry at his management, although there were a
great many of his friends that urged him with requests, and many of his
enemies threatened and accused him for doing as he did, and many made
songs and lampoons upon him, which were sung about the town to his
disgrace, reproaching him with the cowardly exercise of his office of
general, and the tame abandonment of everything to the enemy’s hands.
Cleon, also, already was among his assailants, making use of the
feeling against him as a step to the leadership of the people, as
appears in the anapaestic verses of Hermippus.
Satyr-king, instead of swords,
Will you always handle words?
Very brave indeed we find them,
But a Teles lurks behind them.
Yet to gnash your teeth you’re seen,
When the little dagger keen,
Whetted every day anew,
Of sharp Cleon touches you.
Pericles, however, was not at all moved by any attacks, but took all
patiently, and submitted in silence to the disgrace they threw upon him
and the ill-will they bore him; and, sending out a fleet of a hundred
galleys to Peloponnesus, he did not go along with it in person, but
stayed behind, that he might watch at home and keep the city under his
own control, till the Peloponnesians broke up their camp and were gone.
Yet to soothe the common people, jaded and distressed with the war, he
relieved them with distributions of public moneys, and ordained new
divisions of subject land. For having turned out all the people of
Aegina, he parted the island among the Athenians, according to lot. Some
comfort, also, and ease in their miseries, they might receive from what
their enemies endured. For the fleet, sailing round the Peloponnese,
ravaged a great deal of the country, and pillaged and plundered the
towns and smaller cities; and by land he himself entered with an army
the Megarian country, and made havoc of it all. Whence it is clear that
the Peloponnesians, though they did the Athenians much mischief by land,
yet suffering as much themselves from them by sea, would not have
protracted the war to such a length, but would quickly have given it
over, as Pericles at first foretold they would, had not some divine
power crossed human purposes.
In the first place, the pestilential disease, or plague, seized upon
the city, and ate up all the flower and prime of their youth and
strength. Upon occasion of which, the people, distempered and afflicted
in their souls, as well as in their bodies, were utterly enraged like
madmen against Pericles, and, like patients grown delirious, sought to
lay violent hands on their physician, or, as it were, their father. They
had been possessed, by his enemies, with the belief that the occasion of
the plague was the crowding of the country people together into the
town, forced as they were now, in the heat of the summer-weather, to
dwell many of them together even as they could, in small tenements and
stifling hovels, and to be tied to a lazy course of life within doors,
whereas before they lived in a pure, open, and free air. The cause and
author of all this, said they, is he who on account of the war has
poured a multitude of people from the country in upon us within the
walls, and uses all these many men that he has here upon no employ or
service, but keeps them pent up like cattle, to be overrun with
infection from one another, affording them neither shift of quarters nor
any refreshment.
With the design to remedy these evils, and do the enemy some
inconvenience, Pericles got a hundred and fifty galleys ready, and
having embarked many tried soldiers, both foot and horse, was about to
sail out, giving great hope to his citizens, and no less alarm to his
enemies, upon the sight of so great a force. And now the vessels having
their complement of men, and Pericles being gone aboard his own galley,
it happened that the sun was eclipsed, and it grew dark on a sudden, to
the affright of all, for this was looked upon as extremely ominous.
Pericles, therefore, perceiving the steersman seized with fear and at a
loss what to do, took his cloak and held it up before the man’s face,
and, screening him with it so that he could not see, asked him whether
he imagined there was any great hurt, or the sign of any great hurt in
this, and he answering No, “Why,” said he, “and what does that differ
from this, only that what has caused that darkness there, is something
greater than a cloak?” This is a story which philosophers tell their
scholars. Pericles, however after putting out to sea, seems not to have
done any other exploit befitting such preparations, and when he had laid
siege to the holy city Epidaurus, which gave him some hope of surrender,
miscarried in his design by reason of the sickness. For it not only
seized upon the Athenians, but upon all others, too, that held any sort
of communication with the army. Finding after this the Athenians ill
affected and highly displeased with him, he tried and endeavored what he
could to appease and re-encourage them. But he could not pacify or allay
their anger, nor persuade or prevail with them any way, till they freely
passed their votes upon him, resumed their power, took away his command
from him, and fined him in a sum of money; which, by their account that
say least, was fifteen talents, while they who reckon most, name fifty.
The name prefixed to the accusation was Cleon, as Idomeneus tells us;
Simmias, according to Theophrastus; and Heraclides Ponticus gives it as
Lacratidas.
After this, public troubles were soon to leave him unmolested; the
people, so to say, discharged their passion in their stroke, and lost
their stings in the wound. But his domestic concerns were in an unhappy
condition many of his friends and acquaintance having died in the plague
time, and those of his family having long since been in disorder and in
a kind of mutiny against him. For the eldest of his lawfully begotten
sons, Xanthippus by name, being naturally prodigal, and marrying a young
and expensive wife, the daughter of Tisander, son of Epilycus, was
highly offended at his father’s economy in making him but a scanty
allowance, by little and little at a time. He sent, therefore, to a
friend one day, and borrowed some money of him in his father Pericles’s
name, pretending it was by his order. The man coming afterward to demand
the debt, Pericles was so far from yielding to pay it, that he entered
an action against him. Upon which the young man, Xanthippus, thought
himself so ill used and disobliged, that he openly reviled his father;
telling first, by way of ridicule, stories about his conversations at
home, and the discourses he had with the sophists and scholars that came
to his house. As for instance, how one who was a practicer of the five
games of skill, having with a dart or javelin unawares against his will
struck and killed Epitimus the Pharsalian, his father spent a whole day
with Protagoras in a serious dispute, whether the javelin, or the man
that threw it, or the masters of the games who appointed these sports,
were, according to the strictest and best reason, to be accounted the
cause of this mischance. Besides this, Stesimbrotus tells us that it was
Xanthippus who spread abroad among the people the infamous story
concerning his own wife; and in general that this difference of the
young man’s with his father, and the breach betwixt them, continued
never to be healed or made up till his death. For Xanthippus died in the
plague time of the sickness. At which time Pericles also lost his
sister, and the greatest part of his relations and friends, and those
who had been most useful and serviceable to him in managing the affairs
of state. However, he did not shrink or give in upon these occasions,
nor betray or lower his high spirit and the greatness of his mind under
all his misfortunes; he was not even so much as seen to weep or to
mourn, or even attend the burial of any of his friends or relations,
till at last he lost his only remaining legitimate son. Subdued by this
blow and yet striving still, as far as he could, to maintain his
principle and to preserve and keep up the greatness of his soul when he
came, however, to perform the ceremony of putting a garland of flowers
upon the head of the corpse, he was vanquished by his passion at the
sight, so that he burst into exclamations, and shed copious tears,
having never done any such thing in all his life before.
The city having made trial of other generals for the conduct of war,
and orators for business of state, when they found there was no one who
was of weight enough for such a charge, or of authority sufficient to be
trusted with so great a command, regretted the loss of him, and invited
him again to address and advise them, and to reassume the office of
general. He, however, lay at home in dejection and mourning; but was
persuaded by Alcibiades and others of his friends to come abroad and
show himself to the people; who having, upon his appearance, made their
acknowledgments, and apologized for their untowardly treatment of him,
he undertook the public affairs once more; and, being chosen general,
requested that the statute concerning base-born children, which he
himself had formerly caused to be made, might be suspended; that so the
name and race of his family might not, for absolute want of a lawful
heir to succeed, be wholly lost and extinguished. The case of the
statute was thus: Pericles, when long ago at the height of his power in
the state, having then, as has been said, children lawfully begotten,
proposed a law that those only should be reputed true citizens of Athens
who were born of such parents as were both Athenians. After this, the
king of Egypt having sent to the people, by way of present, forty
thousand bushels of wheat, which were to be shared out among the
citizens, a great many actions and suits about legitimacy occurred, by
virtue of that edict; cases which, till that time, had not been known
nor taken notice of; and several persons suffered by false accusations.
There were little less than five thousand who were convicted and sold
for slaves; those who, enduring the test, remained in the government and
passed muster for true Athenians were found upon the poll to be fourteen
thousand and forty persons in number.
It looked strange, that a law, which had been carried so far against
so many people, should be canceled again by the same man that made it;
yet the present calamity and distress which Pericles labored under in
his family broke through all objections, and prevailed with the
Athenians to pity him, as one whose losses and misfortunes had
sufficiently punished his former arrogance and haughtiness. His
sufferings deserved, they thought, their pity, and even indignation, and
his request was such as became a man to ask and men to grant; they gave
him permission to enroll his son in the register of his fraternity,
giving him his own name. This son afterward, after having defeated the
Peloponnesians at Arginusae, was, with his fellow-generals, put to death
by the people.
About the time when his son was enrolled, it should seem, the plague
seized Pericles, not with sharp and violent fits, as it did others that
had it, but with a dull and lingering distemper, attended with various
changes and alterations, leisurely, by little and little, wasting the
strength of his body, and undermining the noble faculties of his soul.
So that Theophrastus, in his Morals, when discussing whether men’s
characters change with their circumstances, and their moral habits,
disturbed by the ailings of their bodies, start aside from the rules of
virtue, has left it upon record, that Pericles, when he was sick, showed
one of his friends that came to visit him, an amulet or charm that the
women had hung about his neck; as much as to say, that he was very sick
indeed when he would admit of such a foolery as that was.
When he was now near his end, the best of the citizens and those of
his friends who were left alive, sitting about him, were speaking of the
greatness of his merit, and his power, and reckoning up his famous
actions and the number of his victories; for there were no less than
nine trophies, which, as their chief commander and conqueror of their
enemies, he had set up, for the honor of the city. They talked thus
together among themselves, as though he were unable to understand or
mind what they said, but had now lost his consciousness. He had
listened, however, all the while, and attended to all, and speaking out
among them, said, that he wondered they should commend and take notice
of things which were as much owing to fortune as to anything else, and
had happened to many other commanders, and, at the same time, should not
speak or make mention of that which was the most excellent and greatest
thing of all. “For,” said he, “no Athenian, through my means, ever wore
mourning.”
He was indeed a character deserving our high admiration, not only for
his equitable and mild temper, which all along in the many affairs of
his life, and the great animosities which he incurred, he constantly
maintained; but also for the high spirit and feeling which made him
regard it the noblest of all his honors that, in the exercise of such
immense power, he never had gratified his envy or his passion, nor ever
had treated any enemy as irreconcilably opposed to him. And to me it
appears that this one thing gives that otherwise childish and arrogant
title a fitting and becoming significance; so dispassionate a temper, a
life so pure and unblemished, in the height of power and place, might
well be called Olympian, in accordance with our conceptions of the
divine beings, to whom, as the natural authors of all good and of
nothing evil, we ascribe the rule and government of the world. Not as
the poets represent, who, while confounding us with their ignorant
fancies, are themselves confuted by their own poems and fictions, and
call the place, indeed, where they say the gods make their abode, a
secure and quiet seat, free from all hazards and commotions, untroubled
with winds or with clouds, and equally through all time illumined with a
soft serenity and a pure light, as though such were a home most
agreeable for a blessed and immortal nature; and yet, in the meanwhile,
affirm that the gods themselves are full of trouble and enmity and anger
and other passions, which no way become or belong to even men that have
any understanding. But this will, perhaps, seem a subject fitter for
some other consideration, and that ought to be treated of in some other
place.
The course of public affairs after his death produced a quick and
speedy sense of the loss of Pericles. Those who, while he lived,
resented his great authority, as that which eclipsed themselves,
presently after his quitting the stage, making trial of other orators
and demagogues, readily acknowledged that there never had been in nature
such a disposition as his was, more moderate and reasonable in the
height of that state he took upon him, or more grave and impressive in
the mildness which he used. And that invidious arbitrary power, to which
formerly they gave the name of monarchy and tyranny, did then appear to
have been the chief bulwark of public safety; so great a corruption and
such a flood of mischief and vice followed, which he, by keeping weak
and low, had withheld from notice, and had prevented from attaining
incurable height through a licentious impunity.
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Fabius
Having related the memorable actions of Pericles, our history now
proceeds to the life of Fabius. A son of Hercules and a nymph, or some
woman of that country, who brought him forth on the banks of Tiber, was,
it is said, the first Fabius, the founder of the numerous and
distinguished family of the name. Others will have it that they were
first called Fodii, because the first of the race delighted in digging
pitfalls for wild beasts, fodere being still the Latin for to dig, and
fossa for a ditch, and that in process of time, by the change of the two
letters they grew to be called Fabii. But be these things true or false,
certain it is that this family for a long time yielded a great number of
eminent persons. Our Fabius, who was fourth in descent from that Fabius
Rullus who first brought the honorable surname of Maximus into his
family, was also, by way of personal nickname, called Verrucosus, from a
wart on his upper lip; and in his childhood they in like manner named
him Ovicula, or The Lamb, on account of his extreme mildness of temper.
His slowness in speaking, his long labor and pains in learning, his
deliberation in entering into the sports of other children, his easy
submission to everybody, as if he had no will of his own, made those who
judged superficially of him, the greater number, esteem him insensible
and stupid; and few only saw that this tardiness proceeded from
stability, and discerned the greatness of his mind, and the lionlikeness
of his temper. But as soon as he came into employments, his virtues
exerted and showed themselves; his reputed want of energy then was
recognized by people in general, as a freedom of passion; his slowness
in words and actions, the effect of a true prudence; his want of
rapidity, and his sluggishness, as constancy and firmness.
Living in a great commonwealth, surrounded by many enemies, he saw
the wisdom of inuring his body (nature’s own weapon) to warlike
exercises, and disciplining his tongue for public oratory in a style
comformable to his life and character. His eloquence, indeed, had not
much of popular ornament, nor empty artifice, but there was in it great
weight of sense; it was strong and sententious, much after the way of
Thucydides. We have yet extant his funeral oration upon the death of his
son, who died consul, which he recited before the people.
He was five times consul, and in his first consulship had the honor
of a triumph for the victory he gained over the Ligurians, whom he
defeated in a set battle, and drove them to take shelter in the Alps,
from whence they never after made any inroad nor depredation upon their
neighbors. After this, Hannibal came into Italy, who, at his first
entrance, having gained a great battle near the river Trebia, traversed
all Tuscany with his victorious army, and, desolating the country round
about, filled Rome itself with astonishment and terror. Besides the more
common signs of thunder and lightning then happening, the report of
several unheard of and utterly strange portents much increased the
popular consternation. For it was said that some targets sweated blood;
that at Antium, when they reaped their corn, many of the ears were
filled with blood; that it had rained redhot stones; that the Falerians
had seen the heavens open and several scrolls falling down, in one of
which was plainly written, “Mars himself stirs his arms.” But these
prodigies had no effect upon the impetuous and fiery temper of the
consul Flaminius, whose natural promptness had been much heightened by
his late unexpected victory over the Gauls, when he fought them contrary
to the order of the senate and the advice of his colleague. Fabius, on
the other side, thought it not seasonable to engage with the enemy; not
that he much regarded the prodigies, which he thought too strange to be
easily understood, though many were alarmed by them; but in regard that
the Carthaginians were but few, and in want of money and supplies, he
deemed it best not to meet in the field a general whose army had been
tried in many encounters, and whose object was a battle, but to send aid
to their allies, control the movements of the various subject cities,
and let the force and vigor of Hannibal waste away and expire, like a
flame, for want of aliment.
These weighty reasons did not prevail with Flaminius, who protested
he would never suffer the advance of the enemy to the city, nor be
reduced, like Camillus in former time, to fight for Rome within the
walls of Rome. Accordingly he ordered the tribunes to draw out the army
into the field; and though he himself, leaping on horseback to go out,
was no sooner mounted but the beast, without any apparent cause, fell
into so violent a fit of trembling and bounding that he cast his rider
headlong on the ground, he was no ways deterred; but proceeded as he had
begun, and marched forward up to Hannibal, who was posted near the Lake
Thrasymene in Tuscany. At the moment of this engagement, there happened
so great an earthquake, that it destroyed several towns, altered the
course of rivers, and carried off parts of high cliffs, yet such was the
eagerness of the combatants, that they were entirely insensible of it.
In this battle Flaminius fell, after many proofs of his strength and
courage, and round about him all the bravest of the army, in the whole,
fifteen thousand were killed, and as many made prisoners. Hannibal,
desirous to bestow funeral honors upon the body of Flaminius, made
diligent search after it, but could not find it among the dead, nor was
it ever known what became of it. Upon the former engagement near Trebia,
neither the general who wrote, nor the express who told the news, used
straightforward and direct terms, nor related it otherwise than as a
drawn battle, with equal loss on either side; but on this occasion, as
soon as Pomponius the praetor had the intelligence, he caused the people
to assemble, and, without disguising or dissembling the matter, told
them plainly, “We are beaten, O Romans, in a great battle; the consul
Flaminius is killed; think, therefore, what is to be done for your
safety.” Letting loose his news like a gale of wind upon an open sea, he
threw the city into utter confusion: in such consternation, their
thoughts found no support or stay. The danger at hand at last awakened
their judgments into a resolution to choose a dictator, who, by the
sovereign authority of his office and by his personal wisdom and
courage, might be able to manage the public affairs. Their choice
unanimously fell upon Fabius, whose character seemed equal to the
greatness of the office; whose age was so far advanced as to give him
experience, without taking from him the vigor of action; his body could
execute what his soul designed; and his temper was a happy compound of
confidence and cautiousness.
Fabius, being thus installed in the office of dictator, in the first
place gave the command of the horse to Lucius Minucius; and next asked
leave of the senate for himself, that in time of battle he might serve
on horseback, which by an ancient law amongst the Romans was forbid to
their generals; whether it were, that, placing their greatest strength
in their foot, they would have their commanders-in-chief posted amongst
them, or else to let them know, that, how great and absolute soever
their authority were, the people and senate were still their masters, of
whom they must ask leave. Fabius, however, to make the authority of his
charge more observable, and to render the people more submissive and
obedient to him, caused himself to be accompanied with the full body of
four and twenty lictors; and, when the surviving consul came to visit
him, sent him word to dismiss his lictors with their fasces, the ensigns
of authority, and appear before him as a private person.
The first solemn action of his dictatorship was very fitly a
religious one: an admonition to the people, that their late overthrow
had not befallen them through want of courage in their soldiers, but
through the neglect of divine ceremonies in the general. He therefore
exhorted them not to fear the enemy, but by extraordinary honor to
propitiate the gods. This he did, not to fill their minds with
superstition, but by religious feeling to raise their courage, and
lessen their fear of the enemy by inspiring the belief that Heaven was
on their side. With this view, the secret prophecies called the
Sibylline Books were consulted; sundry predictions found in them were
said to refer to the fortunes and events of the time; but none except
the consulter was informed. Presenting himself to the people, the
dictator made a vow before them to offer in sacrifice the whole product
of the next season, all Italy over, of the cows, goats, swine, sheep,
both in the mountains and the plains; and to celebrate musical
festivities with an expenditure of the precise sum of 333 sestertia and
333 denarii, with one third of a denarius over. The sum total of which
is, in our money, 83,583 drachmas and 2 obols. What the mystery might be
in that exact number is not easy to determine, unless it were in honor
of the perfection of the number three, as being the first of odd
numbers, the first that contains in itself multiplication, with all
other properties whatsoever belonging to numbers in general.
In this manner Fabius having given the people better heart for the
future, by making them believe that the gods took their side, for his
own part placed his whole confidence in himself, believing that the gods
bestowed victory and good fortune by the instrumentality of valor and of
prudence; and thus prepared he set forth to oppose Hannibal, not with
intention to fight him, but with the purpose of wearing out and wasting
the vigor of his arms by lapse of time, of meeting his want of resources
by superior means, by large numbers the smallness of his forces. With
this design, he always encamped on the highest grounds, where the
enemy’s horse could have no access to him. Still he kept pace with them;
when they marched he followed them, when they encamped he did the same,
but at such a distance as not to be compelled to an engagement, and
always keeping upon the hills, free from the insults of their horse; by
which means he gave them no rest, but kept them in a continual alarm.
But this his dilatory way gave occasion in his own camp for suspicion
of want of courage; and this opinion prevailed yet more in Hannibal’s
army. Hannibal was himself the only man who was not deceived, who
discerned his skill and detected his tactics, and saw, unless he could
by art or force bring him to battle, that the Carthaginians, unable to
use the arms in which they were superior, and suffering the continual
drain of lives and treasure in which they were inferior, would in the
end come to nothing. He resolved, therefore, with all the arts and
subtilties of war to break his measures, and to bring Fabius to an
engagement; like a cunning wrestler, watching every opportunity to get
good hold and close with his adversary. He at one time attacked, and
sought to distract his attention, tried to draw him off in various
directions, endeavored in all ways to tempt him from his safe policy.
All this artifice, though it had no effect upon the firm judgment and
conviction of the dictator. yet upon the common soldier and even upon
the general of the horse himself, it had too great an operation:
Minucius, unseasonably eager for action, bold and confident, humored the
soldiery, and himself contributed to fill them with wild eagerness and
empty hopes, which they vented in reproaches upon Fabius, calling him
Hannibal’s pedagogue, since he did nothing else but follow him up and
down and wait upon him. At the same time, they cried up Minucius for the
only captain worthy to command the Romans; whose vanity and presumption
rose so high in consequence, that he insolently jested at Fabius’s
encampments upon the mountains, saying that he seated them there as on a
theater, to behold the flames and desolation of their country. And he
would sometimes ask the friends of the general, whether it were not his
meaning, by thus leading them from mountain to mountain, to carry them
at last (having no hopes on earth) up into heaven, or to hide them in
the clouds from Hannibal’s army? When his friends reported these things
to the dictator, persuading him that, to avoid the general obloquy, he
should engage the enemy, his answer was, “I should be more fainthearted
than they make me, if, through fear of idle reproaches, I should abandon
my own convictions. It is no inglorious thing to have fear for the
safety of our country, but to be turned from one’s course by men’s
opinions, by blame, and by misrepresentation, shows a man unfit to hold
an office such as this, which, by such conduct, he makes the slave of
those whose errors it is his business to control.”
An oversight of Hannibal occurred soon after. Desirous to refresh his
horse in some good pasture-grounds, and to draw off his army, he ordered
his guides to conduct him to the district of Casinum. They, mistaking
his bad pronunciation, led him and his army to the town of Casilinum, on
the frontier of Campania which the river Lothronus, called by the Romans
Vulturnus, divides in two parts. The country around is enclosed by
mountains, with a valley opening towards the sea, in which the river
overflowing forms a quantity of marsh land with deep banks of sand, and
discharges itself into the sea on a very unsafe and rough shore. While
Hannibal was proceeding hither, Fabius, by his knowledge of the roads,
succeeded in making his way around before him, and dispatched four
thousand choice men to seize the exit from it and stop him up, and
lodged the rest of his army upon the neighboring hills in the most
advantageous places; at the same time detaching a party of his lightest
armed men to fall upon Hannibal’s rear; which they did with such
success, that they cut off eight hundred of them, and put the whole army
in disorder. Hannibal, finding the error and the danger he was fallen
into, immediately crucified the guides; but considered the enemy to be
so advantageously posted, that there was no hopes of breaking through
them; while his soldiers began to be despondent and terrified, and to
think themselves surrounded with embarrassments too difficult to be
surmounted.
Thus reduced, Hannibal had recourse to stratagem; he caused two
thousand head of oxen which he had in his camp, to have torches or dry
fagots well fastened to their horns, and lighting them in the beginning
of the night, ordered the beasts to be driven on towards the heights
commanding the passages out of the valley and the enemy’s posts; when
this was done, he made his army in the dark leisurely march after them.
The oxen at first kept a slow, orderly pace, and with their lighted
heads resembled an army marching by night, astonishing the shepherds and
herds men of the hills about. But when the fire had burnt down the horns
of the beasts to the quick, they no longer observed their sober pace,
but, unruly and wild with their pain, ran dispersed about, tossing their
heads and scattering the fire round about them upon each other and
setting light as they passed to the trees. This was a surprising
spectacle to the Romans on guard upon the heights. Seeing flames which
appeared to come from men advancing with torches, they were possessed
with the alarm that the enemy was approaching in various quarters, and
that they were being surrounded; and, quitting their post, abandoned the
pass, and precipitately retired to their camp on the hills. They were no
sooner gone, but the light-armed of Hannibal’s men, according to his
order, immediately seized the heights, and soon after the whole army,
with all the baggage, came up and safely marched through the passes.
Fabius, before the night was over, quickly found out the trick; for
some of the beasts fell into his hands; but for fear of an ambush in the
dark, he kept his men all night to their arms in the camp. As soon as it
was day, he attacked the enemy in the rear, where, after a good deal of
skirmishing in the uneven ground, the disorder might have become
general, but that Hannibal detached from his van a body of Spaniards,
who, of themselves active and nimble, were accustomed to the climbing of
mountains. These briskly attacked the Roman troops who were in heavy
armor, killed a good many, and left Fabius no longer in condition to
follow the enemy. This action brought the extreme of obloquy and
contempt upon the dictator; they said it was now manifest that he was
not only inferior to his adversary, as they had always thought, in
courage, but even in that conduct, foresight, and generalship, by which
he had proposed to bring the war to an end.
And Hannibal, to enhance their anger against him, marched with his
army close to the lands and possessions of Fabius, and, giving orders to
his soldiers to burn and destroy all the country about, forbade them to
do the least damage in the estates of the Roman general, and placed
guards for their security. This, when reported at Rome, had the effect
with the people which Hannibal desired. Their tribunes raised a thousand
stories against him, chiefly at the instigation of Metilius, who, not so
much out of hatred to him as out of friendship to Minucius, whose
kinsman he was, thought by depressing Fabius to raise his friend. The
senate on their part were also offended with him, for the bargain he had
made with Hannibal about the exchange of prisoners, the conditions of
which were, that, after exchange made of man for man, if any on either
side remained, they should be redeemed at the price of two hundred and
fifty drachmas a head. Upon the whole account, there remained two
hundred and forty Romans unexchanged, and the senate now not only
refused to allow money for the ransoms, but also reproached Fabius for
making a contract, contrary to the honor and interest of the
commonwealth, for redeeming men whose cowardice had put them in the
hands of the enemy. Fabius heard and endured all this with invincible
patience; and, having no money by him, and on the other side being
resolved to keep his word with Hannibal and not to abandon the captives,
he dispatched his son to Rome to sell land, and to bring with him the
price, sufficient to discharge the ransoms; which was punctually
performed by his son, and delivery accordingly made to him of the
prisoners, amongst whom many, when they were released, made proposals to
repay the money; which Fabius in all cases declined.
About this time, he was called to Rome by the priests, to assist,
according to the duty of his office, at certain sacrifices, and was thus
forced to leave the command of the army with Minucius; but before he
parted, not only charged him as his commander-in-chief, but besought and
entreated him, not to come, in his absence, to a battle with Hannibal.
His commands, entreaties, and advice were lost upon Minucius; for his
back was no sooner turned but the new general immediately sought
occasions to attack the enemy. And notice being brought him that
Hannibal had sent out a great part of his army to forage, he fell upon a
detachment of the remainder, doing great execution, and driving them to
their very camp, with no little terror to the rest, who apprehended
their breaking in upon them; and when Hannibal had recalled his
scattered forces to the camp, he, nevertheless, without any loss, made
his retreat, a success which aggravated his boldness and presumption,
and filled the soldiers with rash confidence. The news spread to Rome,
where Fabius, on being told it, said that what he most feared was
Minucius’s success: but the people, highly elated, hurried to the forum
to listen to an address from Metilius the tribune, in which he
infinitely extolled the valor of Minucius, and fell bitterly upon Fabius,
accusing him for want not merely of courage, but even of loyalty; and
not only him, but also many other eminent and considerable persons;
saying that it was they that had brought the Carthaginians into Italy,
with the design to destroy the liberty of the people; for which end they
had at once put the supreme authority into the hands of a single person,
who by his slowness and delays might give Hannibal leisure to establish
himself in Italy, and the people of Carthage time and opportunity to
supply him with fresh succors to complete his conquests
Fabius came forward with no intention to answer the tribune, but only
said, that they should expedite the sacrifices, that so he might
speedily return to the army to punish Minucius, who had presumed to
fight contrary to his orders; words which immediately possessed the
people with the belief that Minucius stood in danger of his life. For it
was in the power of the dictator to imprison and to put to death, and
they feared that Fabius, of a mild temper in general, would be as hard
to be appeased when once irritated, as he was slow to be provoked.
Nobody dared to raise his voice in opposition. Metilius alone, whose
office of tribune gave him security to say what he pleased (for in the
time of a dictatorship that magistrate alone preserves his authority),
boldly applied himself to the people in the behalf of Minucius: that
they should not suffer him to be made a sacrifice to the enmity of
Fabius, nor permit him to be destroyed, like the son of Manlius
Torquatus, who was beheaded by his father for a victory fought and
triumphantly won against order; he exhorted them to take away from
Fabius that absolute power of a dictator, and to put it into more worthy
hands, better able and more inclined to use it for the public good.
These impressions very much prevailed upon the people, though not so far
as wholly to dispossess Fabius of the dictatorship. But they decreed
that Minucius should have an equal authority with the dictator in the
conduct of the war; which was a thing then without precedent, though a
little later it was again practiced after the disaster at Cannae; when
the dictator, Marcus Junius, being with the army, they chose at Rome
Fabius Buteo dictator, that he might create new senators, to supply the
numerous places of those who were killed. But as soon as, once acting in
public, he had filled those vacant places with a sufficient number, he
immediately dismissed his lictors, and withdrew from all his attendance,
and, mingling like a common person with the rest of the people, quietly
went about his own affairs in the forum.
The enemies of Fabius thought they had sufficiently humiliated and
subdued him by raising Minucius to be his equal in authority; but they
mistook the temper of the man, who looked upon their folly as not his
loss, but like Diogenes, who, being told that some persons derided him,
made answer, “But I am not derided,” meaning that only those were really
insulted on whom such insults made an impression, so Fabius, with great
tranquillity and unconcern, submitted to what happened, and contributed
a proof to the argument of the philosophers that a just and good man is
not capable of being dishonored. His only vexation arose from his fear
lest this ill counsel, by supplying opportunities to the diseased
military ambition of his subordinate, should damage the public cause.
Lest the rashness of Minucius should now at once run headlong into some
disaster, he returned back with all privacy and speed to the army; where
he found Minucius so elevated with his new dignity, that, a
joint-authority not contenting him, he required by turns to have the
command of the army every other day. This Fabius rejected, but was
contented that the army should be divided; thinking each general singly
would better command his part, than partially command the whole. The
first and fourth legion he took for his own division, the second and
third he delivered to Minucius; so also of the auxiliary forces each had
an equal share.
Minucius, thus exalted, could not contain himself from boasting of
his success in humiliating the high and powerful office of the
dictatorship. Fabius quietly reminded him that it was, in all wisdom,
Hannibal, and not Fabius, whom he had to combat; but if he must needs
contend with his colleague, it had best be in diligence and care for the
preservation of Rome; that it might not be said, a man so favored by the
people served them worse than he who had been ill-treated and disgraced
by them.
The young general, despising these admonitions as the false humility
of age, immediately removed with the body of his army, and encamped by
himself. Hannibal, who was not ignorant of all these passages, lay
watching his advantage from them. It happened that between his army and
that of Minucius there was a certain eminence, which seemed a very
advantageous and not difficult post to encamp upon; the level field
around it appeared, from a distance, to be all smooth and even, though
it had many inconsiderable ditches and dips in it, not discernible to
the eye. Hannibal, had he pleased, could easily have possessed himself
of this ground; but he had reserved it for a bait, or train, in proper
season, to draw the Romans to an engagement. Now that Minucius and
Fabius were divided, he thought the opportunity fair for his purpose;
and, therefore, having in the night time lodged a convenient number of
his men in these ditches and hollow places, early in the morning he sent
forth a small detachment, who, in the sight of Minucius, proceeded to
possess themselves of the rising ground. According to his expectation,
Minucius swallowed the bait, and first sends out his light troops, and
after them some horse, to dislodge the enemy; and, at last, when he saw
Hannibal in person advancing to the assistance of his men, marched down
with his whole army drawn up. He engaged with the troops on the
eminence, and sustained their missiles; the combat for some time was
equal; but as soon as Hannibal perceived that the whole army was now
sufficiently advanced within the toils he had set for them, so that
their backs were open to his men whom he had posted in the hollows, he
gave the signal; upon which they rushed forth from various quarters, and
with loud cries furiously attacked Minucius in the rear. The surprise
and the slaughter was great, and struck universal alarm and disorder
through the whole army. Minucius himself lost all his confidence; he
looked from officer to officer, and found all alike unprepared to face
the danger, and yielding to a flight, which, however, could not end in
safety. The Numidian horsemen were already in full victory riding about
the plain, cutting down the fugitives.
Fabius was not ignorant of this danger of his countrymen; he foresaw
what would happen from the rashness of Minucius, and the cunning of
Hannibal; and, therefore, kept his men to their arms, in readiness to
wait the event; nor would he trust to the reports of others, but he
himself, in front of his camp, viewed all that passed. When, therefore,
he saw the army of Minucius encompassed by the enemy, and that by their
countenance and shifting their ground, they appeared more disposed to
flight than to resistance, with a great sigh, striking his hand upon his
thigh, he said to those about him, “O Hercules! how much sooner than I
expected, though later than he seemed to desire, hath Minucius destroyed
himself!” He then commanded the ensigns to be led forward and the army
to follow, telling them, “We must make haste to rescue Minucius, who is
a valiant man, and a lover of his country; and if he hath been too
forward to engage the enemy, at another time we will tell him of it.”
Thus, at the head of his men, Fabius marched up to the enemy, and first
cleared the plain of the Numidians; and next fell upon those who were
charging the Romans in the rear, cutting down all that made opposition,
and obliging the rest to save themselves by a hasty retreat, lest they
should be environed as the Romans had been. Hannibal, seeing so sudden a
change of affairs, and Fabius, beyond the force of his age, opening his
way through the ranks up the hill-side, that he might join Minucius,
warily forbore, sounded a retreat, and drew off his men into their camp;
while the Romans on their part were no less contented to retire in
safety. It is reported that upon this occasion Hannibal said jestingly
to his friends: “Did not I tell you, that this cloud which always
hovered upon the mountains would, at some time or other, come down with
a storm upon us?”
Fabius, after his men had picked up the spoils of the field, retired
to his own camp, without saying any harsh or reproachful thing to his
colleague; who also on his part, gathering his army together, spoke and
said to them: “To conduct great matters and never commit a fault is
above the force of human nature; but to learn and improve by the faults
we have committed, is that which becomes a good and sensible man. Some
reasons I may have to accuse fortune, but I have many more to thank her;
for in a few hours she hath cured a long mistake, and taught me that I
am not the man who should command others, but have need of another to
command me; and that we are not to contend for victory over those to
whom it is our advantage to yield. Therefore in everything else
henceforth the dictator must be your commander; only in showing
gratitude towards him I will still be your leader, and always be the
first to obey his orders.” Having said this, he commanded the Roman
eagles to move forward, and all his men to follow him to the camp of
Fabius. The soldiers, then, as he entered, stood amazed at the novelty
of the sight, and were anxious and doubtful what the meaning might be.
When he came near the dictator’s tent, Fabius went forth to meet him, on
which he at once laid his standards at his feet, calling him with a loud
voice his father; while the soldiers with him saluted the soldiers here
as their patrons, the term employed by freedmen to those who gave them
their liberty. After silence was obtained, Minucius said, “You have this
day, O dictator, obtained two victories; one by your valor and conduct
over Hannibal, and another by your wisdom and goodness over your
colleague; by one victory you preserved, and by the other instructed us;
and when we were already suffering one shameful defeat from Hannibal, by
another welcome one from you we were restored to honor and safety. I can
address you by no nobler name than that of a kind father, though a
father’s beneficence falls short of that I have received from you. From
a father I individually received the gift of life; to you I owe its
preservation not for myself only, but for all these who are under me.”
After this, he threw himself into the arms of the dictator; and in the
same manner the soldiers of each army embraced one another with gladness
and tears of joy.
Not long after, Fabius laid down the dictatorship, and consuls were
again created. Those who immediately succeeded, observed the same method
in managing the war, and avoided all occasions of fighting Hannibal in a
pitched battle; they only succored their allies, and preserved the towns
from falling off to the enemy. but afterwards, when Terentius Varro, a
man of obscure birth, but very popular and bold, had obtained the
consulship, he soon made it appear that by his rashness and ignorance he
would stake the whole commonwealth on the hazard. For it was his custom
to declaim in all assemblies, that, as long as Rome employed generals
like Fabius there never would be an end of the war; vaunting that
whenever he should get sight of the enemy, he would that same day free
Italy from the strangers. With these promises he so prevailed, that he
raised a greater army than had ever yet been sent out of Rome. There
were enlisted eighty-eight thousand fighting men; but what gave
confidence to the populace, only terrified the wise and experienced, and
none more than Fabius; since if so great a body, and the flower of the
Roman youth, should be cut off, they could not see any new resource for
the safety of Rome. They addressed themselves, therefore, to the other
consul, Aemilius Paulus, a man of great experience in war, but
unpopular, and fearful also of the people, who once before upon some
impeachment had condemned him; so that he needed encouragement to
withstand his colleague’s temerity. Fabius told him, if he would
profitably serve his country, he must no less oppose Varro’s ignorant
eagerness than Hannibal’s conscious readiness, since both alike
conspired to decide the fate of Rome by a battle. “It is more
reasonable,” he said to him, “that you should believe me than Varro, in
matters relating to Hannibal, when I tell you, that if for this year you
abstain from fighting with him, either his army will perish of itself,
or else he will be glad to depart of his own will. This evidently
appears, inasmuch as, notwithstanding his victories, none of the
countries or towns of Italy come in to him, and his army is not now the
third part of what it was at first.” To this Paulus is said to have
replied, “Did I only consider myself, I should rather choose to be
exposed to the weapons of Hannibal than once more to the suffrages of my
fellow-citizens, who are urgent for what you disapprove; yet since the
cause of Rome is at stake, I will rather seek in my conduct to please
and obey Fabius than all the world besides.”
These good measures were defeated by the importunity of Varro; whom,
when they were both come to the army, nothing would content but a
separate command, that each consul should have his day; and when his
turn came, he posted his army close to Hannibal, at a village called
Cannae, by the river Aufidus. It was no sooner day, but he set up the
scarlet coat flying over his tent, which was the signal of battle. This
boldness of the consul, and the numerousness of his army, double theirs,
startled the Carthaginians; but Hannibal commanded them to their arms,
and with a small train rode out to take a full prospect of the enemy as
they were now forming in their ranks, from a rising ground not far
distant. One of his followers, called Gisco, a Carthaginian of equal
rank with himself, told him that the numbers of the enemy were
astonishing; to which Hannibal replied, with a serious countenance,
“There is one thing, Gisco, yet more astonishing, which you take no
notice of;” and when Gisco inquired what, answered, that “in all those
great numbers before us, there is not one man called Gisco.” This
unexpected jest of their general made all the company laugh, and as they
came down from the hill, they told it to those whom they met, which
caused a general laughter amongst them all, from which they were hardly
able to recover themselves. The army, seeing Hannibal’s attendants come
back from viewing the enemy in such a laughing condition, concluded that
it must be profound contempt of the enemy, that made their general at
this moment indulge in such hilarity.
According to his usual manner, Hannibal employed stratagems to
advantage himself. In the first place, he so drew up his men that the
wind was at their backs, which at that time blew with a perfect storm of
violence, and, sweeping over the great plains of sand, carried before it
a cloud of dust over the Carthaginian army into the faces of the Romans,
which much disturbed them in the fight. In the next place, all his best
men he put into his wings; and in the body, which was somewhat more
advanced than the wings, placed the worst and the weakest of his army.
He commanded those in the wings, that, when the enemy had made a
thorough charge upon that middle advanced body, which he knew would
recoil, as not being able to withstand their shock, and when the Romans,
in their pursuit, should be far enough engaged within the two wings,
they should, both on the right and the left, charge them in the flank,
and endeavor to encompass them. This appears to have been the chief
cause of the Roman loss. Pressing upon Hannibal’s front, which gave
ground, they reduced the form of his army into a perfect half-moon, and
gave ample opportunity to the captains of the chosen troops to charge
them right and left on their flanks, and to cut off and destroy all who
did not fall back before the Carthaginian wings united in their rear. To
this general calamity, it is also said, that a strange mistake among the
cavalry much contributed. For the horse of Aemilius receiving a hurt and
throwing his master, those about him immediately alighted to aid the
consul; and the Roman troops, seeing their commanders thus quitting
their horses, took it for a sign that they should all dismount and
charge the enemy on foot. At the sight of this, Hannibal was heard to
say, “This pleases me better than if they had been delivered to me bound
hand and foot.” For the particulars of this engagement, we refer our
reader to those authors who have written at large upon the subject.
The consul Varro, with a thin company, fled to Venusia; Aemilius
Paulus, unable any longer to oppose the flight of his men, or the
pursuit of the enemy, his body all covered with wounds, and his soul no
less wounded with grief, sat himself down upon a stone, expecting the
kindness of a dispatching blow. His face was so disfigured, and all his
person so stained with blood, that his very friends and domestics
passing by knew him not. At last Cornelius Lentulus, a young man of
patrician race, perceiving who he was, alighted from his horse, and,
tendering it to him, desired him to get up and save a life so necessary
to the safety of the commonwealth, which, at this time, would dearly
want so great a captain. But nothing could prevail upon him to accept of
the offer; he obliged young Lentulus, with tears in his eyes, to remount
his horse; then standing up, he gave him his hand, and commanded him to
tell Fabius Maximus that Aemilius Paulus had followed his directions to
his very last, and had not in the least deviated from those measures
which were agreed between them; but that it was his hard fate to be
overpowered by Varro in the first place, and secondly by Hannibal.
Having dispatched Lentulus with this commission, he marked where the
slaughter was greatest, and there threw himself upon the swords of the
enemy. In this battle it is reported that fifty thousand Romans were
slain, four thousand prisoners taken in the field, and ten thousand in
the camp of both consuls.
The friends of Hannibal earnestly persuaded him to follow up his
victory, and pursue the flying Romans into the very gates of Rome,
assuring him that in five days’ time he might sup in the capitol; nor is
it easy to imagine what consideration hindered him from it. It would
seem rather that some supernatural or divine intervention caused the
hesitation and timidity which he now displayed, and which made Barcas, a
Carthaginian, tell him with indignation, “You know, Hannibal, how to
gain a victory, but not how to use it.” Yet it produced a marvelous
revolution in his affairs; he, who hitherto had not one town, market, or
seaport in his possession, who had nothing for the subsistence of his
men but what he pillaged from day to day, who had no place of retreat or
basis of operation, but was roving, as it were, with a huge troop of
banditti, now became master of the best provinces and towns of Italy,
and of Capua itself, next to Rome the most flourishing and opulent city,
all which came over to him, and submitted to his authority.
It is the saying of Euripides, that “a man is in ill-case when he
must try a friend,” and so neither, it would seem, is a state in a good
one, when it needs an able general. And so it was with the Romans; the
counsels and actions of Fabius, which, before the battle, they had
branded as cowardice and fear, now, in the other extreme they accounted
to have been more than human wisdom; as though nothing but a divine
power of intellect could have seen so far, and foretold, contrary to the
judgment of all others, a result which, even now it had arrived, was
hardly credible. In him, therefore, they placed their whole remaining
hopes; his wisdom was the sacred altar and temple to which they fled for
refuge, and his counsels, more than anything, preserved them from
dispersing and deserting their city, as in the time when the Gauls took
possession of Rome. He, whom they esteemed fearful and pusillanimous
when they were, as they thought, in a prosperous condition, was now the
only man, in this general and unbounded dejection and confusion, who
showed no fear, but walked the streets with an assured and serene
countenance, addressed his fellow-citizens, checked the women’s
lamentations, and the public gatherings of those who wanted thus to vent
their sorrows. He caused the senate to meet, he heartened up the
magistrates, and was himself as the soul and life of every office.
He placed guards at the gates of the city to stop the frighted
multitude from flying; he regulated and controlled their mournings for
their slain friends, both as to time and place; ordering that each
family should perform such observances within private walls, and that
they should continue only the space of one month, and then the whole
city should be purified. The feast of Ceres happening to fall within
this time, it was decreed that the solemnity should be intermitted, lest
the fewness, and the sorrowful countenance of those who should celebrate
it, might too much expose to the people the greatness of their loss;
besides that, the worship most acceptable to the gods is that which
comes from cheerful hearts. But those rites which were proper for
appeasing their anger, and procuring auspicious signs and presages, were
by the direction of the augurs carefully performed. Fabius Pictor, a
near kinsman to Maximus, was sent to consult the oracle of Delphi; and
about the same time, two vestals having been detected to have been
violated, the one killed herself, and the other, according to custom,
was buried alive.
Above all, let us admire the high spirit and equanimity of this Roman
commonwealth; that when the consul Varro came beaten and flying home,
full of shame and humiliation, after he had so disgracefully and
calamitously managed their affairs, yet the whole senate and people went
forth to meet him at the gates of the city, and received him with honor
and respect. And, silence being commanded, the magistrates and chief of
the senate, Fabius amongst them, commended him before the people,
because he did not despair of the safety of the commonwealth, after so
great a loss, but was come to take the government into his hands, to
execute the laws, and aid his fellow-citizens in their prospect of
future deliverance.
When word was brought to Rome that Hannibal, after the fight, had
marched with his army into other parts of Italy, the hearts of the
Romans began to revive, and they proceeded to send out generals and
armies. The most distinguished commands were held by Fabius Maximus and
Claudius Marcellus, both generals of great fame, though upon opposite
grounds. For Marcellus, as we have set forth in his life, was a man of
action and high spirit, ready and bold with his own hand, and, as Homer
describes his warriors, fierce, and delighting in fights. Boldness,
enterprise, and daring, to match those of Hannibal, constituted his
tactics, and marked his engagements. But Fabius adhered to his former
principles, still persuaded that, by following close and not fighting
him, Hannibal and his army would at last be tired out and consumed, like
a wrestler in too high condition, whose very excess of strength makes
him the more likely suddenly to give way and lose it. Posidonius tells
us that the Romans called Marcellus their sword, and Fabius their
buckler; and that the vigor of the one, mixed with the steadiness of the
other, made a happy compound that proved the salvation of Rome. So that
Hannibal found by experience that, encountering the one, he met with a
rapid, impetuous river, which drove him back, and still made some breach
upon him; and by the other, though silently and quietly passing by him,
he was insensibly washed away and consumed; and, at last, was brought to
this, that he dreaded Marcellus when he was in motion, and Fabius when
he sat still. During the whole course of this war, he had still to do
with one or both of these generals; for each of them was five times
consul, and, as praetors or proconsuls or consuls, they had always a
part in the government of the army, till, at last, Marcellus fell into
the trap which Hannibal had laid for him, and was killed in his fifth
consulship. But all his craft and subtlety were unsuccessful upon Fabius,
who only once was in some danger of being caught, when counterfeit
letters came to him from the principal inhabitants of Metapontum, with
promises to deliver up their town if he would come before it with his
army, and intimations that they should expect him, This train had almost
drawn him in; he resolved to march to them with part of his army, and
was diverted only by consulting the omens of the birds, which he found
to be inauspicious; and not long after it was discovered that the
letters had been forged by Hannibal, who, for his reception, had laid an
ambush to entertain him. This, perhaps, we must rather attribute to the
favor of the gods than to the prudence of Fabius.
In preserving the towns and allies from revolt by fair and gentle
treatment, and in not using rigor, or showing a suspicion upon every
light suggestion, his conduct was remarkable. It is told of him, that,
being informed of a certain Marsian, eminent for courage and good birth,
who had been speaking underhand with some of the soldiers about
deserting, Fabius was so far from using severity against him, that he
called for him, and told him he was sensible of the neglect that had
been shown to his merit and good service, which, he said, was a great
fault in the commanders who reward more by favor than by desert; “but
henceforward, whenever you are aggrieved,” said Fabius, “I shall
consider it your fault, if you apply yourself to any but to me;” and
when he had so spoken, he bestowed an excellent horse and other presents
upon him; and, from that time forwards, there was not a faithfuller and
more trusty man in the whole army. With good reason he judged, that, if
those who have the government of horses and dogs endeavor by gentle
usage to cure their angry and untractable tempers, rather than by
cruelty and beating, much more should those who have the command of men
try to bring them to order and discipline by the mildest and fairest
means, and not treat them worse than gardeners do those wild plants,
which, with care and attention, lose gradually the savageness of their
nature, and bear excellent fruit.
At another time, some of his officers informed him that one of their
men was very often absent from his place, and out at nights; he asked
them what kind of man he was; they all answered, that the whole army had
not a better man, that he was a native of Lucania, and proceeded to
speak of several actions which they had seen him perform. Fabius made
strict inquiry, and discovered at last that these frequent excursions
which he ventured upon were to visit a young girl, with whom he was in
love. Upon which he gave private order to some of his men to find out
the woman and secretly convey her into his own tent; and then sent for
the Lucanian, and, calling him aside, told him, that he very well knew
how often he had been out away from the camp at night, which was a
capital transgression against military discipline and the Roman laws,
but he knew also how brave he was, and the good services he had done;
therefore, in consideration of them, he was willing to forgive him his
fault; but to keep him in good order, he was resolved to place one over
him to be his keeper, who should be accountable for his good behavior.
Having said this, he produced the woman, and told the soldier, terrified
and amazed at the adventure, “This is the person who must answer for
you; and by your future behavior we shall see whether your night rambles
were on account of love, or for any other worse design.”
Another passage there was, something of the same kind, which gained
him possession of Tarentum. There was a young Tarentine in the army that
had a sister in Tarentum, then in possession of the enemy, who entirely
loved her brother, and wholly depended upon him. He, being informed that
a certain Bruttian, whom Hannibal had made a commander of the garrison,
was deeply in love with his sister, conceived hopes that he might
possibly turn it to the advantage of the Romans. And having first
communicated his design to Fabius, he left the army as a deserter in
show, and went over to Tarentum. The first days passed, and the Bruttian
abstained from visiting the sister; for neither of them knew that the
brother had notice of the amour between them. The young Tarentine,
however, took an occasion to tell his sister how he had heard that a man
of station and authority had made his addresses to her; and desired her,
therefore, to tell him who it was; “for,” said he, “if he be a man that
has bravery and reputation, it matters not what countryman he is, since
at this time the sword mingles all nations, and makes them equal;
compulsion makes all things honorable; and in a time when right is weak,
we may be thankful if might assumes a form of gentleness.” Upon this the
woman sends for her friend, and makes the brother and him acquainted;
and whereas she henceforth showed more countenance to her lover than
formerly, in the same degrees that her kindness increased, his
friendship, also, with the brother advanced. So that at last our
Tarentine thought this Bruttian officer well enough prepared to receive
the offers he had to make him; and that it would be easy for a mercenary
man, who was in love, to accept, upon the terms proposed, the large
rewards promised by Fabius. In conclusion, the bargain was struck, and
the promise made of delivering the town. This is the common tradition,
though some relate the story otherwise, and say, that this woman, by
whom the Bruttian was inveigled, to betray the town, was not a native of
Tarentum, but a Bruttian born, and was kept by Fabius as his concubine;
and being a countrywoman and an acquaintance of the Bruttian governor,
he privately sent her to him to corrupt him.
Whilst these matters were thus in process, to draw off Hannibal from
scenting the design, Fabius sends orders to the garrison in Rhegium,
that they should waste and spoil the Bruttian country, and should also
lay siege to Caulonia, and storm the place with all their might. These
were a body of eight thousand men, the worst of the Roman army, who had
most of them been runaways, and had been brought home by Marcellus from
Sicily, in dishonor, so that the loss of them would not be any great
grief to the Romans. Fabius, therefore, threw out these men as a bait
for Hannibal, to divert him from Tarentum; who instantly caught at it,
and led his forces to Caulonia; in the meantime, Fabius sat down before
Tarentum. On the sixth day of the siege, the young Tarentine slips by
night out of the town, and, having carefully observed the place where
the Bruttian commander, according to agreement, was to admit the Romans,
gave an account of the whole matter to Fabius; who thought it not safe
to rely wholly upon the plot, but, while proceeding with secrecy to the
post, gave order for a general assault to be made on the other side of
the town, both by land and sea. This being accordingly executed, while
the Tarentines hurried to defend the town on the side attacked, Fabius
received the signal from the Bruttian, scaled the walls, and entered the
town unopposed.
Here, we must confess, ambition seems to have overcome him. To make
it appear to the world that he had taken Tarentum by force and his own
prowess, and not by treachery, he commanded his men to kill the
Bruttians before all others; yet he did not succeed in establishing the
impression he desired, but merely gained the character of perfidy and
cruelty. Many of the Tarentines were also killed, and thirty thousand of
them were sold for slaves; the army had the plunder of the town, and
there was brought into the treasury three thousand talents. Whilst they
were carrying off everything else as plunder, the officer who took the
inventory asked what should be done with their gods, meaning the
pictures and statues; Fabius answered, “Let us leave their angry gods to
the Tarentines.” Nevertheless, he removed the colossal statue of
Hercules, and had it set up in the capitol, with one of himself on
horseback, in brass, near it; proceedings very different from those of
Marcellus on a like occasion, and which, indeed, very much set off in
the eyes of the world his clemency and humanity, as appears in the
account of his life.
Hannibal, it is said, was within five miles of Tarentum, when he was
informed that the town was taken. He said openly, “Rome, then, has also
got a Hannibal; as we won Tarentum, so have we lost it.” And, in private
with some of his confidants, he told them, for the first time, that he
always thought it difficult, but now he held it impossible, with the
forces he then had, to master Italy.
Upon this success, Fabius had a triumph decreed him at Rome, much
more splendid than his first; they looked upon him now as a champion who
had learned to cope with his antagonist, and could now easily foil his
arts and prove his best skill ineffectual. And, indeed, the army of
Hannibal was at this time partly worn away with continual action, and
partly weakened and become dissolute with overabundance and luxury.
Marcus Livius, who was governor of Tarentum when it was betrayed to
Hannibal, and then retired into the citadel, which he kept till the town
was retaken, was annoyed at these honors and distinctions, and, on one
occasion, openly declared in the senate, that by his resistance, more
than by any action of Fabius, Tarentum had been recovered; on which
Fabius laughingly replied: “You say very true, for if Marcus Livius had
not lost Tarentum, Fabius Maximus had never recovered it.” The people,
amongst other marks of gratitude, gave his son the consulship of the
next year; shortly after whose entrance upon his office, there being
some business on foot about provision for the war, his father, either by
reason of age and infirmity, or perhaps out of design to try his son,
came up to him on horseback. While he was still at a distance, the young
consul observed it, and bade one of his lictors command his father to
alight, and tell him that, if be had any business with the consul, he
should come on foot. The standers by seemed offended at the
imperiousness of the son towards a father so venerable for his age and
his authority, and turned their eyes in silence towards Fabius. He,
however, instantly alighted from his horse, and with open arms came up,
almost running, and embraced his son, saying, “Yes, my son, you do well,
and understand well what authority you have received, and over whom you
are to use it. This was the way by which we and our forefathers advanced
the dignity of Rome, preferring ever her honor and service to our own
fathers and children.”
And, in fact, it is told that the great-grandfather of our Fabius,
who was undoubtedly the greatest man of Rome in his time, both in
reputation and authority, who had been five times consul, and had been
honored with several triumphs for victories obtained by him, took
pleasure in serving as lieutenant under his own son, when he went as
consul to his command. And when afterwards his son had a triumph
bestowed upon him for his good service, the old man followed, on
horseback, his triumphant chariot, as one of his attendants; and made it
his glory, that while he really was, and was acknowledged to be, the
greatest man in Rome, and held a father’s full power over his son, he
yet submitted himself to the laws and the magistrate.
But the praises of our Fabius are not bounded here. He afterwards
lost this son, and was remarkable for bearing the loss with the
moderation becoming a pious father and a wise man, and, as it was the
custom amongst the Romans, upon the death of any illustrious person, to
have a funeral oration recited by some of the nearest relations, he took
upon himself that office, and delivered a speech in the forum, which he
committed afterwards to writing.
After Cornelius Scipio, who was sent into Spain, had driven the
Carthaginians, defeated by him in many battles, out of the country, and
had gained over to Rome many towns and nations with large resources, he
was received at his coming home with unexampled joy and acclamation of
the people; who, to show their gratitude, elected him consul for the
year ensuing. Knowing what high expectation they had of him, he thought
the occupation of contesting Italy with Hannibal a mere old man’s
employment, and proposed no less a task to himself than to make Carthage
the seat of the war, fill Africa with arms and devastation, and so
oblige Hannibal, instead of invading the countries of others, to draw
back and defend his own. And to this end he proceeded to exert all the
influence he had with the people. Fabius, on the other side, opposed the
undertaking with all his might, alarming the city, and telling them that
nothing but the temerity of a hot young man could inspire them with such
dangerous counsels, and sparing no means, by word or deed, to prevent
it. He prevailed with the senate to espouse his sentiments; but the
common people thought that he envied the fame of Scipio, and that he was
afraid lest this young conqueror should achieve some great and noble
exploit, and have the glory, perhaps, of driving Hannibal out of Italy,
or even of ending the war, which had for so many years continued and
been protracted under his management.
To say the truth, when Fabius first opposed this project of Scipio,
he probably did it out of caution and prudence, in consideration only of
the public safety, and of the danger which the commonwealth might incur;
but when he found Scipio every day increasing in the esteem of the
people, rivalry and ambition led him further, and made him violent and
personal in his opposition. For he even applied to Crassus, the
colleague of Scipio, and urged him not to yield the command to Scipio,
but that, if his inclinations were for it, he should himself in person
lead the army to Carthage. He also hindered the giving money to Scipio
for the war; so that he was forced to raise it upon his own credit and
interest from the cities of Etruria, which were extremely attached to
him. On the other side, Crassus would not stir against him, nor remove
out of Italy, being, in his own nature, averse to all contention, and
also having, by his office of high priest, religious duties to retain
him. Fabius, therefore, tried other ways to oppose the design; he
impeded the levies, and he declaimed, both in the senate and to the
people, that Scipio was not only himself flying from Hannibal, but was
also endeavoring to drain Italy of all its forces, and to spirit away
the youth of the country to a foreign war, leaving behind them their
parents, wives, and children, and the city itself, a defenseless prey to
the conquering and undefeated enemy at their doors. With this he so far
alarmed the people, that at last they would only allow Scipio for the
war the legions which were in Sicily, and three hundred, whom he
particularly trusted, of those men who had served with him in Spain. In
these transactions, Fabius seems to have followed the dictates of his
own wary temper.
But, after that Scipio was gone over into Africa, when news almost
immediately came to Rome of wonderful exploits and victories, of which
the fame was confirmed by the spoils he sent home; of a Numidian king
taken prisoner; of a vast slaughter of their men; of two camps of the
enemy burnt and destroyed, and in them a great quantity of arms and
horses; and when, hereupon, the Carthaginians were compelled to send
envoys to Hannibal to call him home, and leave his idle hopes in Italy,
to defend Carthage; when, for such eminent and transcending services,
the whole people of Rome cried up and extolled the actions of Scipio;
even then, Fabius contended that a successor should be sent in his
place, alleging for it only the old reason of the mutability of fortune,
as if she would be weary of long favoring the same person. With this
language many did begin to feel offended; it seemed to be morosity and
ill-will, the pusillanimity of old age, or a fear, that had now become
exaggerated, of the skill of Hannibal. Nay, when Hannibal had put his
army on shipboard, and taken his leave of Italy, Fabius still could not
forbear to oppose and disturb the universal joy of Rome, expressing his
fears and apprehensions, telling them that the commonwealth was never in
more danger than now, and that Hannibal was a more formidable enemy
under the walls of Carthage than ever he had been in Italy; that it
would be fatal to Rome, whenever Scipio should encounter his victorious
army, still warm with the blood of so many Roman generals, dictators,
and consuls slain. And the people were, in some degree, startled with
these declamations, and were brought to believe, that the further off
Hannibal was, the nearer was their danger. Scipio, however, shortly
afterwards fought Hannibal, and utterly defeated him, humbled the pride
of Carthage beneath his feet, gave his countrymen joy and exultation
beyond all their hopes, and
“Long shaken on the seas restored the state.”
Fabius Maximus, however, did not live to see the prosperous end of
this war, and the final overthrow of Hannibal, nor to rejoice in the
reestablished happiness and security of the commonwealth; for about the
time that Hannibal left Italy, he fell sick and died. At Thebes,
Epaminondas died so poor that he was buried at the public charge; one
small iron coin was all, it is said, that was found in his house. Fabius
did not need this, but the people, as a mark of their affection,
defrayed the expenses of his funeral by a private contribution from each
citizen of the smallest piece of coin; thus owning him their common
father, and making his end no less honorable than his life.
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Comparison of Pericles with Fabius
We have here had two lives rich in examples, both of civil and
military excellence. Let us first compare the two men in their warlike
capacity. Pericles presided in his commonwealth when it was in its most
flourishing and opulent condition, great and growing in power; so that
it may be thought it was rather the common success and fortune that kept
him from any fall or disaster. But the task of Fabius, who undertook the
government in the worst and most difficult times, was not to preserve
and maintain the well-established felicity of a prosperous state, but to
raise and uphold a sinking and ruinous commonwealth. Besides, the
victories of Cimon, the trophies of Myronides and Leocrates, with the
many famous exploits of Tolmides, were employed by Pericles rather to
fill the city with festive entertainments and solemnities than to
enlarge and secure its empire. Whereas Fabius, when he took upon him the
government, had the frightful object before his eyes of Roman armies
destroyed, of their generals and consuls slain, of lakes and plains and
forests strewed with the dead bodies, and rivers stained with the blood
of his fellow-citizens; and yet, with his mature and solid cousels, with
the firmness of his resolution, he, as it were, put his shoulder to the
falling commonwealth, and kept it up from foundering through the
failings and weakness of others. Perhaps it may be more easy to govern a
city broken and tamed with calamities and adversity, and compelled by
danger and necessity to listen to wisdom, than to set a bridle on
wantonness and temerity, and rule a people pampered and restive with
long prosperity as were the Athenians when Pericles held the reins of
government. But then again, not to be daunted nor discomposed with the
vast heap of calamities under which the people of Rome at that time
groaned and succumbed, argues a courage in Fabius and a strength of
purpose more than ordinary.
We may set Tarentum retaken against Samos won by Pericles, and the
conquest of Euboea we may well balance with the towns of Campania;
though Capua itself was reduced by the consuls Fulvius and Appius. I do
not find that Fabius won any set battle but that against the Ligurians,
for which he had his triumph; whereas Pericles erected nine trophies for
as many victories obtained by land and by sea. But no action of Pericles
can be compared to that memorable rescue of Minucius, when Fabius
redeemed both him and his army from utter destruction; a noble act,
combining the highest valor, wisdom, and humanity. On the other side, it
does not appear that Pericles was ever so overreached as Fabius was by
Hannibal with his flaming oxen. His enemy there had, without his agency,
put himself accidentally into his power, yet Fabius let him slip in the
night, and, when day came, was worsted by him, was anticipated in the
moment of success, and mastered by his prisoner. If it is the part of a
good general, not only to provide for the present, but also to have a
clear foresight of things to come, in this point Pericles is the
superior; for he admonished the Athenians, and told them beforehand the
ruin the war would bring upon them, by their grasping more than they
were able to manage. But Fabius was not so good a prophet, when he
denounced to the Romans that the undertaking of Scipio would be the
destruction of the commonwealth. So that Pericles was a good prophet of
bad success, and Fabius was a bad prophet of success that was good. And,
indeed, to lose an advantage through diffidence is no less blamable in a
general than to fall into danger for want of foresight; for both these
faults, though of a contrary nature, spring from the same root, want of
judgment and experience.
As for their civil policy, it is imputed to Pericles that he
occasioned the war, since no terms of peace, offered by the
Lacedaemonians, would content him. It is true, I presume, that Fabius,
also, was not for yielding any point to the Carthaginians, but was ready
to hazard all, rather than lessen the empire of Rome. The mildness of
Fabius towards his colleague Minucius does, by way of comparison, rebuke
and condemn the exertions of Pericles to banish Cimon and Thucydides,
noble, aristocratic men, who by his means suffered ostracism. The
authority of Pericles in Athens was much greater than that of Fabius in
Rome. Hence it was more easy for him to prevent miscarriages arising
from the mistakes and insufficiency of other officers; only Tolmides
broke loose from him, and, contrary to his persuasions, unadvisedly
fought with the Boeotians, and was slain. The greatness of his influence
made all others submit and conform themselves to his judgment. Whereas
Fabius, sure and unerring himself, for want of that general power, had
not the means to obviate the miscarriages of others; but it had been
happy for the Romans if his authority had been greater, for so, we may
presume, their disasters had been fewer.
As to liberality and public spirit, Pericles was eminent in never
taking any gifts, and Fabius, for giving his own money to ransom his
soldiers, though the sum did not exceed six talents. Than Pericles,
meantime, no man had ever greater opportunities to enrich himself,
having had presents offered him from so many kings and princes and
allies, yet no man was ever more free from corruption. And for the
beauty and magnificence of temples and public edifices with which he
adorned his country, it must be confessed, that all the ornaments and
structures of Rome, to the time of the Caesars, had nothing to compare,
either in greatness of design or of expense, with the luster of those
which Pericles only erected at Athens.
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Alcibiades
Alcibiades, as it is supposed, was anciently descended from
Eurysaces, the son of Ajax, by his father’s side; and by his mother’s
side from Alcmaeon. Dinomache, his mother, was the daughter of Megacles.
His father Clinias, having fitted out a galley at his own expense,
gained great honor in the sea-fight at Artemisium, and was afterwards
slain in the battle of Coronea, fighting against the Boeotians. Pericles
and Ariphron, the sons of Xanthippus, nearly related to him, became the
guardians of Alcibiades. It has been said not untruly that the
friendship which Socrates felt for him has much contributed to his fame;
and certain it is, that, though we have no account from any writer
concerning the mother of Nicias or Demosthenes, of Lamachus or Phormion,
of Thrasybulus or Theramenes, notwithstanding these were all illustrious
men of the same period, yet we know even the nurse of Alcibiades, that
her country was Lacedaemon, and her name Amycla; and that Zopyrus was
his teacher and attendant; the one being recorded by Antisthenes, and
the other by Plato.
It is not, perhaps, material to say anything of the beauty of
Alcibiades, only that it bloomed with him in all the ages of his life,
in his infancy, in his youth, and in his manhood; and, in the peculiar
character becoming to each of these periods, gave him, in every one of
them, a grace and a charm. What Euripides says, that
“Of all fair things the autumn, too, is fair,”
is by no means universally true. But it happened so with Alcibiades,
amongst few others, by reason of his happy constitution and natural
vigor of body. It is said that his lisping, when he spoke, became him
well, and gave a grace and persuasiveness to his rapid speech.
Aristophanes takes notice of it in the verses in which he jests at
Theorus; “How like a colax he is,” says Alcibiades, meaning a corax; on
which it is remarked,
“How very happily he lisped the truth.”
Archippus also alludes to it in a passage where he ridicules the son
of Alcibiades;
“That people may believe him like his father,
He walks like one dissolved in luxury,
Lets his robe trail behind him on the ground,
Carelessly leans his head, and in his talk affects to lisp.”
His conduct displayed many great inconsistencies and variations, not
unnaturally, in accordance with the many and wonderful vicissitudes of
his fortunes; but among the many strong passions of his real character,
the one most prevailing of all was his ambition and desire of
superiority, which appears in several anecdotes told of his sayings
whilst he was a child. Once being hard pressed in wrestling, and fearing
to be thrown, he got the hand of his antagonist to his mouth, and bit it
with all his force; and when the other loosed his hold presently, and
said, “You bite, Alcibiades, like a woman.” “No,” replied he, “like a
lion.” Another time as he played at dice in the street, being then but a
child, a loaded cart came that way, when it was his turn to throw; at
first he called to the driver to stop, because he was to throw in the
way over which the cart was to pass; but the man giving him no attention
and driving on, when the rest of the boys divided and gave way,
Alcibiades threw himself on his face before the cart, and, stretching
himself out, bade the carter pass on now if he would; which so startled
the man, that he put back his horses, while all that saw it were
terrified, and, crying out, ran to assist Alcibiades. When he began to
study, he obeyed all his other masters fairly well, but refused to learn
upon the flute, as a sordid thing, and not becoming a free citizen;
saying, that to play on the lute or the harp does not in any way
disfigure a man’s body or face, but one is hardly to be known by the
most intimate friends, when playing on the flute. Besides, one who plays
on the harp may speak or sing at the same time; but the use of the flute
stops the mouth, intercepts the voice, and prevents all articulation.
“Therefore,” said he, “let the Theban youths pipe, who do not know how
to speak, but we Athenians, as our ancestors have told us, have Minerva
for our patroness, and Apollo for our protector, one of whom threw away
the flute, and the other stripped the Flute-player of his skin.” Thus,
between raillery and good earnest, Alcibiades kept not only himself but
others from learning, as it presently became the talk of the young boys,
how Alcibiades despised playing on the flute, and ridiculed those who
studied it. In consequence of which, it ceased to be reckoned amongst
the liberal accomplishments, and became generally neglected.
It is stated in the invective which Antiphon wrote against
Alcibiades, that once, when he was a boy, he ran away to the house of
Democrates, one of those who made a favorite of him, and that Ariphron
had determined to cause proclamation to be made for him, had not
Pericles diverted him from it, by saying, that if he were dead, the
proclaiming of him could only cause it to be discovered one day sooner,
and if he were safe, it would be a reproach to him as long as he lived.
Antiphon also says, that he killed one of his own servants with the blow
of a staff in Sibyrtius’s wrestling ground. But it is unreasonable to
give credit to all that is objected by an enemy, who makes open
profession of his design to defame him.
It was manifest that the many well-born persons who were continually
seeking his company, and making their court to him, were attracted and
captivated by his brilliant and extraordinary beauty only. But the
affection which Socrates entertained for him is a great evidence of the
natural noble qualities and good disposition of the boy, which Socrates,
indeed, detected both in and under his personal beauty; and, fearing
that his wealth and station, and the great number both of strangers and
Athenians who flattered and caressed him, might at last corrupt him,
resolved, if possible, to interpose, and preserve so hopeful a plant
from perishing in the flower, before its fruit came to perfection. For
never did fortune surround and enclose a man with so many of those
things which we vulgarly call goods, or so protect him from every weapon
of philosophy, and fence him from every access of free and searching
words, as she did Alcibiades; who, from the beginning, was exposed to
the flatteries of those who sought merely his gratification, such as
might well unnerve him, and indispose him to listen to any real adviser
or instructor. Yet such was the happiness of his genius, that he
discerned Socrates from the rest, and admitted him, whilst he drove away
the wealthy and the noble who made court to him. And, in a little time,
they grew intimate, and Alcibiades, listening now to language entirely
free from every thought of unmanly fondness and silly displays of
affection, finding himself with one who sought to lay open to him the
deficiencies of his mind, and repress his vain and foolish arrogance,
“Dropped like the craven cock his conquered wing.”
He esteemed these endeavors of Socrates as most truly a means which
the gods made use of for the care and preservation of youth, and began
to think meanly of himself, and to admire him; to be pleased with his
kindness, and to stand in awe of his virtue; and, unawares to himself,
there became formed in his mind that reflex image and reciprocation of
Love, or Anteros, that Plato talks of. It was a matter of general
wonder, when people saw him joining Socrates in his meals and his
exercises, living with him in the same tent, whilst he was reserved and
rough to all others who made their addresses to him, and acted, indeed,
with great insolence to some of them. As in particular to Anytus, the
son of Anthemion, one who was very fond of him, and invited him to an
entertainment which he had prepared for some strangers. Alcibiades
refused the invitation; but, having drunk to excess at his own house
with some of his companions, went thither with them to play some frolic;
and, standing at the door of the room where the guests were enjoying
themselves, and seeing the tables covered with gold and silver cups, he
commanded his servants to take away the one half of them, and carry them
to his own house; and then, disdaining so much as to enter into the room
himself, as soon as he had done this, went away. The company was
indignant, and exclaimed at his rude and insulting conduct; Anytus,
however, said, on the contrary he had shown great consideration and
tenderness in taking only a part, when he might have taken all.
He behaved in the same manner to all others who courted him, except
only one stranger, who, as the story is told, having but a small estate,
sold it all for about a hundred staters, which he presented to
Alcibiades, and besought him to accept. Alcibiades, smiling and well
pleased at the thing, invited him to supper, and, after a very kind
entertainment, gave him his gold again, requiring him, moreover, not to
fail to be present the next day, when the public revenue was offered to
farm, and to outbid all others. The man would have excused himself,
because the contract was so large, and would cost many talents; but
Alcibiades, who had at that time a private pique against the existing
farmers of the revenue, threatened to have him beaten if he refused. The
next morning, the stranger, coming to the marketplace, offered a talent
more than the existing rate; upon which the farmers, enraged and
consulting together, called upon him to name his sureties, concluding
that he could find none. The poor man, being startled at the proposal,
began to retire; but Alcibiades, standing at a distance, cried out to
the magistrates, “Set my name down, he is a friend of mine; I will be
security for him.” When the other bidders heard this, they perceived
that all their contrivance was defeated; for their way was, with the
profits of the second year to pay the rent for the year preceding; so
that, not seeing any other way to extricate themselves out of the
difficulty, they began to entreat the stranger, and offered him a sum of
money. Alcibiades would not suffer him to accept of less than a talent;
but when that was paid down, he commanded him to relinquish the bargain,
having by this device relieved his necessity.
Though Socrates had many and powerful rivals, yet the natural good
qualities of Alcibiades gave his affection the mastery. His words
overcame him so much, as to draw tears from his eyes, and to disturb his
very soul. Yet sometimes he would abandon himself to flatterers, when
they proposed to him varieties of pleasure, and would desert Socrates;
who, then, would pursue him, as if he had been a fugitive slave. He
despised everyone else, and had no reverence or awe for any but him.
Cleanthes the philosopher; speaking of one to whom he was attached, says
his only hold on him was by his ears, while his rivals had all the
others offered them; and there is no question that Alcibiades was very
easily caught by pleasures; and the expression used by Thucydides about
the excesses of his habitual course of living gives occasion to believe
so. But those who endeavored to corrupt Alcibiades, took advantage
chiefly of his vanity and ambition, and thrust him on unseasonably to
undertake great enterprises, persuading him, that as soon as he began to
concern himself in public affairs, he would not only obscure the rest of
the generals and statesmen, but outdo the authority and the reputation
which Pericles himself had gained in Greece. But in the same manner as
iron which is softened by the fire grows hard with the cold, and all its
parts are closed again; so, as often as Socrates observed Alcibiades to
be misled by luxury or pride, he reduced and corrected him by his
addresses, and made him humble and modest, by showing him in how many
things he was deficient, and how very far from perfection in virtue.
When he was past his childhood, he went once to a grammar-school, and
asked the master for one of Homer’s books; and he making answer that he
had nothing of Homer’s, Alcibiades gave him a blow with his fist, and
went away. Another schoolmaster telling him that he had Homer corrected
by himself; “How,” said Alcibiades, “and do you employ your time in
teaching children to read? You, who are able to amend Homer, may well
undertake to instruct men.” Being once desirous to speak with Pericles,
he went to his house and was told there that he was not at leisure, but
busied in considering how to give up his accounts to the Athenians;
Alcibiades, as he went away, said, “It were better for him to consider
how he might avoid giving up his accounts at all.”
Whilst he was very young, he was a soldier in the expedition against
Potidaea, where Socrates lodged in the same tent with him, and stood
next him in battle. Once there happened a sharp skirmish, in which they
both behaved with signal bravery; but Alcibiades receiving a wound,
Socrates threw himself before him to defend him, and beyond any question
saved him and his arms from the enemy, and so in all justice might have
challenged the prize of valor. But the generals appearing eager to
adjudge the honor to Alcibiades, because of his rank, Socrates, who
desired to increase his thirst after glory of a noble kind, was the
first to give evidence for him, and pressed them to crown him, and to
decree to him the complete suit of armor. Afterwards, in the battle of
Delium, when the Athenians were routed and Socrates with a few others
was retreating on foot, Alcibiades, who was on horseback, observing it,
would not pass on, but stayed to shelter him from the danger, and
brought him safe off, though the enemy pressed hard upon them, and cut
off many. But this happened some time after.
He gave a box on the ear to Hipponicus, the father of Callias, whose
birth and wealth made him a person of great influence and repute. And
this he did unprovoked by any passion or quarrel between them, but only
because, in a frolic, he had agreed with his companions to do it. People
were justly offended at this insolence, when it became known through the
city; but early the next morning, Alcibiades went to his house and
knocked at the door, and, being admitted to him, took off his outer
garment, and, presenting his naked body, desired him to scourge and
chastise him as he pleased. Upon this Hipponicus forgot all his
resentment, and not only pardoned him, but soon after gave him his
daughter Hipparete in marriage. Some say that it was not Hipponicus, but
his son Callias, who gave Hipparete to Alcibiades, together with a
portion of ten talents, and that after, when she had a child, Alcibiades
forced him to give ten talents more, upon pretense that such was the
agreement if she brought him any children. Afterwards, Callias, for fear
of coming to his death by his means, declared, in a full assembly of the
people, that if he should happen to die without children, the state
should inherit his house and all his goods. Hipparete was a virtuous and
dutiful wife, but, at last, growing impatient of the outrages done to
her by her husband’s continual entertaining of courtesans, as well
strangers as Athenians, she departed from him and retired to her
brother’s house. Alcibiades seemed not at all concerned at this, and
lived on still in the same luxury; but the law requiring that she should
deliver to the archon in person, and not by proxy, the instrument by
which she claimed a divorce, when, in obedience to the law, she
presented herself before him to perform this, Alcibiades came in, caught
her up, and carried her home through the marketplace, no one daring to
oppose him, nor to take her from him. She continued with him till her
death, which happened not long after, when Alcibiades had gone to
Ephesus. Nor is this violence to be thought so very enormous or unmanly.
For the law, in making her who desires to be divorced appear in public,
seems to design to give her husband an opportunity of treating with her,
and of endeavoring to retain her.
Alcibiades had a dog which cost him seventy minas, and was a very
large one, and very handsome. His tail, which was his principal
ornament, he caused to be cut off, and his acquaintance exclaiming at
him for it, and telling him that all Athens was sorry for the dog, and
cried out upon him for this action, he laughed, and said, “Just what I
wanted has happened, then. I wished the Athenians to talk about this,
that they might not say something worse of me.”
It is said that the first time he came into the assembly was upon
occasion of a largess of money which he made to the people. This was not
done by design, but as he passed along he heard a shout, and inquiring
the cause, and having learned that there was a donative making to the
people, he went in amongst them and gave money also. The multitude
thereupon applauding him, and shouting, he was so transported at it,
that he forgot a quail which he had under his robe, and the bird, being
frighted with the noise, flew off; upon which the people made louder
acclamations than before, and many of them started up to pursue the
bird; and one Antiochus, a pilot, caught it and restored it to him, for
which he was ever after a favorite with Alcibiades.
He had great advantages for entering public life; his noble birth,
his riches, the personal courage he had shown in divers battles, and the
multitude of his friends and dependents, threw open, so to say, folding
doors for his admittance. But he did not consent to let his power with
the people rest on any thing, rather than on his own gift of eloquence.
That he was a master in the art of speaking, the comic poets bear him
witness; and the most eloquent of public speakers, in his oration
against Midias, allows that Alcibiades, among other perfections, was a
most accomplished orator. If, however, we give credit to Theophrastus,
who of all philosophers was the most curious inquirer, and the greatest
lover of history, we are to understand that Alcibiades had the highest
capacity for inventing, for discerning what was the right thing to be
said for any purpose, and on any occasion; but, aiming not only at
saying what was required, but also at saying it well, in respect, that
is, of words and phrases, when these did not readily occur, he would
often pause in the middle of his discourse for want of the apt word, and
would be silent and stop till he could recollect himself, and had
considered what to say.
His expenses in horses kept for the public games, and in the number
of his chariots, were matter of great observation; never did anyone but
he, either private person or king, send seven chariots to the Olympic
games. And to have carried away at once the first, the second, and the
fourth prize, as Thucydides says, or the third, as Euripides relates it,
outdoes far away every distinction that ever was known or thought of in
that kind. Euripides celebrates his success in this manner:—
“—But my song to you, Son of Clinias, is due.
Victory is noble; how much more
To do as never Greek before;
To obtain in the great chariot race
The first, the second, and third place;
With easy step advanced to fame,
To bid the herald three times claim
The olive for one victor’s name.”
The emulation displayed by the deputations of various states, in the
presents which they made to him, rendered this success yet more
illustrious. The Ephesians erected a tent for him, adorned
magnificently; the city of Chios furnished him with provender for his
horses and with great numbers of beasts for sacrifice; and the Lesbians
sent him wine and other provisions for the many great entertainments
which he made. Yet in the midst of all this he escaped not without
censure, occasioned either by the ill-nature of his enemies or by his
own misconduct. For it is said, that one Diomedes, all Athenian, a
worthy man and a friend to Alcibiades, passionately desiring to obtain
the victory at the Olympic games, and having heard much of a chariot
which belonged to the state at Argos, where he knew that Alcibiades had
great power and many friends, prevailed with him to undertake to buy the
chariot. Alcibiades did indeed buy it, but then claimed it for his own,
leaving Diomedes to rage at him, and to call upon the gods and men to
bear witness to the injustice. It would seem there was a suit at law
commenced upon this occasion, and there is yet extant an oration
concerning the chariot, written by Isocrates in defense of the son of
Alcibiades. But the plaintiff in this action is named Tisias, and not
Diomedes.
As soon as he began to intermeddle in the government, which was when
he was very young, he quickly lessened the credit of all who aspired to
the confidence of the people, except Phaeax, the son of Erasistratus,
and Nicias, the son of Niceratus, who alone could contest it with him.
Nicias was arrived at a mature age, and was esteemed their first
general. Phaeax was but a rising statesman like Alcibiades; he was
descended from noble ancestors, but was his inferior, as in many other
things, so, principally, in eloquence. He possessed rather the art of
persuading in private conversation than of debate before the people, and
was, as Eupolis said of him,
“The best of talkers, and of speakers worst.”
There is extant an oration written by Phaeax against Alcibiades, in
which, amongst other things, it is said, that Alcibiades made daily use
at his table of many gold and silver vessels, which belonged to the
commonwealth, as if they had been his own.
There was a certain Hyperbolus, of the township of Perithoedae, whom
Thucydides also speaks of as a man of bad character, a general butt for
the mockery of all the comic writers of the time, but quite unconcerned
at the worst things they could say, and, being careless of glory, also
insensible of shame; a temper which some people call boldness and
courage, whereas it is indeed impudence and recklessness. He was liked
by nobody, yet the people made frequent use of him, when they had a mind
to disgrace or calumniate any persons in authority. At this time, the
people, by his persuasions, were ready to proceed to pronounce the
sentence of ten years’ banishment, called ostracism. This they made use
of to humiliate and drive out of the city such citizens as outdid the
rest in credit and power, indulging not so much perhaps their
apprehensions as their jealousies in this way. And when, at this time,
there was no doubt but that the ostracism would fall upon one of those
three, Alcibiades contrived to form a coalition of parties, and,
communicating his project to Nicias, turned the sentence upon Hyperbolus
himself. Others say, that it was not with Nicias, but Phaeax, that he
consulted, and, by help of his party, procured the banishment of
Hyperbolus, when he suspected nothing less. For, before that time, no
mean or obscure person had ever fallen under that punishment, so that
Plato, the comic poet, speaking of Hyperbolus, might well say,
“The man deserved the fate; deny ‘t who can?
Yes, but the fate did not deserve the man;
Not for the like of him and his slave-brands
Did Athens put the sherd into our hands.”
But we have given elsewhere a fuller statement of what is known to us
of the matter.
Alcibiades was not less disturbed at the distinctions which Nicias
gained amongst the enemies of Athens, than at the honors which the
Athenians themselves paid to him. For though Alcibiades was the proper
appointed person to receive all Lacedaemonians when they came to Athens,
and had taken particular care of those that were made prisoners at
Pylos, yet, after they had obtained the peace and restitution of the
captives, by the procurement chiefly of Nicias, they paid him very
special attentions. And it was commonly said in Greece, that the war was
begun by Pericles, and that Nicias made an end of it, and the peace was
generally called the peace of Nicias. Alcibiades was extremely annoyed
at this, and, being full of envy, set himself to break the league.
First, therefore, observing that the Argives, as well out of fear as
hatred to the Lacedaemonians, sought for protection against them, he
gave them a secret assurance of alliance with Athens. And communicating,
as well in person as by letters, with the chief advisers of the people
there, he encouraged them not to fear the Lacedaemonians, nor make
concessions to them, but to wait a little, and keep their eyes on the
Athenians, who, already, were all but sorry they had made peace, and
would soon give it up. And, afterwards, when the Lacedaemonians had made
a league with the Boeotians, and had not delivered up Panactum entire,
as they ought to have done by the treaty, but only after first
destroying it, which gave great offense to the people of Athens,
Alcibiades laid hold of that opportunity to exasperate them more highly.
He exclaimed fiercely against Nicias, and accused him of many things,
which seemed probable enough: as that, when he was general, he made no
attempt himself to capture their enemies that were shut up in the isle
of Sphacteria, but, when they were afterwards made prisoners by others,
he procured their release and sent them back to the Lacedaemonians, only
to get favor with them; that he would not make use of his credit with
them, to prevent their entering into this confederacy with the Boeotians
and Corinthians, and yet, on the other side, that he sought to stand in
the way of those Greeks who were inclined to make an alliance and
friendship with Athens, if the Lacedaemonians did not like it.
It happened, at the very time when Nicias was by these arts brought
into disgrace with the people, that ambassadors arrived from Lacedaemon,
who, at their first coming, said what seemed very satisfactory,
declaring that they had full powers to arrange all matters in dispute
upon fair and equal terms. The council received their propositions, and
the people was to assemble on the morrow to give them audience.
Alcibiades grew very apprehensive of this, and contrived to gain a
secret conference with the ambassadors. When they were met, he said:
“What is it you intend, you men of Sparta? Can you be ignorant that the
council always act with moderation and respect towards ambassadors, but
that the people are full of ambition and great designs? So that, if you
let them know what full powers your commission gives you, they will urge
and press you to unreasonable conditions. Quit therefore, this
indiscreet simplicity, if you expect to obtain equal terms from the
Athenians, and would not have things extorted from you contrary to your
inclinations, and begin to treat with the people upon some reasonable
articles, not avowing yourselves plenipotentiaries; and I will be ready
to assist you, out of good-will to the Lacedaemonians.” When he had said
thus, he gave them his oath for the performance of what he promised, and
by this way drew them from Nicias to rely entirely upon himself, and
left them full of admiration of the discernment and sagacity they had
seen in him. The next day, when the people were assembled and the
ambassadors introduced, Alcibiades, with great apparent courtesy,
demanded of them, With what powers they were come? They made answer that
they were not come as plenipotentiaries.
Instantly upon that, Alcibiades, with a loud voice, as though he had
received and not done the wrong, began to call them dishonest
prevaricators, and to urge that such men could not possibly come with a
purpose to say or do anything that was sincere. The council was
incensed, the people were in a rage, and Nicias, who knew nothing of the
deceit and the imposture, was in the greatest confusion, equally
surprised and ashamed at such a change in the men. So thus the
Lacedaemonian ambassadors were utterly rejected, and Alcibiades was
declared general, who presently united the Argives, the Eleans, and the
people of Mantinea, into a confederacy with the Athenians.
No man commended the method by which Alcibiades effected all this,
yet it was a great political feat thus to divide and shake almost all
Peloponnesus, and to combine so many men in arms against the
Lacedaemonians in one day before Mantinea; and, moreover, to remove the
war and the danger so far from the frontier of the Athenians, that even
success would profit the enemy but little, should they be conquerors,
whereas, if they were defeated, Sparta itself was hardly safe.
After this battle at Mantinea, the select thousand of the army of the
Argives attempted to overthrow the government of the people in Argos,
and make themselves masters of the city; and the Lacedaemonians came to
their aid and abolished the democracy. But the people took arms again,
and gained the advantage, and Alcibiades came in to their aid and
completed the victory, and persuaded them to build long walls, and by
that means to join their city to the sea, and so to bring it wholly
within the reach of the Athenian power. To this purpose, he procured
them builders and masons from Athens, and displayed the greatest zeal
for their service, and gained no less honor and power to himself than to
the commonwealth of Athens. He also persuaded the people of Patrae to
join their city to the sea, by building long walls; and when some one
told them, by way of warning, that the Athenians would swallow them up
at last Alcibiades made answer, “Possibly it may be so, but it will be
by little and little, and beginning at the feet, whereas the
Lacedaemonians will begin at the head and devour you all at once.” Nor
did he neglect either to advise the Athenians to look to their interests
by land, and often put the young men in mind of the oath which they had
made at Agraulos, to the effect that they would account wheat and
barley, and vines and olives, to be the limits of Attica; by which they
were taught to claim a title to all land that was cultivated and
productive.
But with all these words and deeds, and with all this sagacity and
eloquence, he intermingled exorbitant luxury and wantonness in his
eating and drinking and dissolute living; wore long purple robes like a
woman, which dragged after him as he went through the market-place;
caused the planks of his galley to be cut away, that so he might lie the
softer, his bed not being placed on the boards, but hanging upon girths.
His shield, again, which was richly gilded, had not the usual ensigns of
the Athenians, but a Cupid, holding a thunderbolt in his hand, was
painted upon it. The sight of all this made the people of good repute in
the city feel disgust and abhorrence, and apprehension also, at his
free-living, and his contempt of law, as things monstrous in themselves,
and indicating designs of usurpation. Aristophanes has well expressed
the people’s feeling towards him:—
“They love, and hate, and cannot do without him.”
And still more strongly, under a figurative expression,
“Best rear no lion in your state, ’tis true;
But treat him like a lion if you do.”
The truth is, his liberalities, his public shows, and other
munificence to the people, which were such as nothing could exceed, the
glory of his ancestors, the force of his eloquence, the grace of his
person, his strength of body, joined with his great courage and
knowledge in military affairs, prevailed upon the Athenians to endure
patiently his excesses, to indulge many things to him, and, according to
their habit, to give the softest names to his faults, attributing them
to youth and good nature. As, for example, he kept Agatharcus, the
painter, a prisoner till he had painted his whole house, but then
dismissed him with a reward. He publicly struck Taureas, who exhibited
certain shows in opposition to him and contended with him for the prize.
He selected for himself one of the captive Melian women, and had a son
by her, whom he took care to educate. This the Athenians styled great
humanity; and yet he was the principal cause of the slaughter of all the
inhabitants of the isle of Melos who were of age to bear arms, having
spoken in favor of that decree. When Aristophon, the painter, had drawn
Nemea sitting and holding Alcibiades in her arms, the multitude seemed
pleased with the piece, and thronged to see it, but older people
disliked and disrelished it, and looked on these things as enormities,
and movements towards tyranny. So that it was not said amiss by
Archestratus, that Greece could not support a second Alcibiades. Once,
when Alcibiades succeeded well in an oration which he made, and the
whole assembly attended upon him to do him honor, Timon the misanthrope
did not pass slightly by him, nor avoid him, as he did others, but
purposely met him, and, taking him by the hand, said, “Go on boldly, my
son, and increase in credit with the people, for thou wilt one day bring
them calamities enough.” Some that were present laughed at the saying,
and some reviled Timon; but there were others upon whom it made a deep
impression; so various was the judgment which was made of him, and so
irregular his own character.
The Athenians, even in the lifetime of Pericles, had already cast a
longing eye upon Sicily; but did not attempt any thing till after his
death. Then, under pretense of aiding their confederates, they sent
succors upon all occasions to those who were oppressed by the
Syracusans, preparing the way for sending over a greater force. But
Alcibiades was the person who inflamed this desire of theirs to the
height, and prevailed with them no longer to proceed secretly, and by
little and little, in their design, but to sail out with a great fleet,
and undertake at once to make themselves masters of the island. He
possessed the people with great hopes, and he himself entertained yet
greater; and the conquest of Sicily, which was the utmost bound of their
ambition, was but the mere outset of his expectation. Nicias endeavored
to divert the people from the expedition, by representing to them that
the taking of Syracuse would be a work of great difficulty; but
Alcibiades dreamed of nothing less than the conquest of Carthage and
Libya, and by the accession of these conceiving himself at once made
master of Italy and of Peloponnesus, seemed to look upon Sicily as
little more than a magazine for the war. The young men were soon
elevated with these hopes, and listened gladly to those of riper years,
who talked wonders of the countries they were going to; so that you
might see great numbers sitting in the wrestling grounds and public
places, drawing on the ground the figure of the island and the situation
of Libya and Carthage. Socrates the philosopher and Meton the astrologer
are said, however, never to have hoped for any good to the commonwealth
from this war; the one, it is to be supposed, presaging what would
ensue, by the intervention of his attendant Genius; and the other,
either upon rational consideration of the project, or by use of the art
of divination, conceived fears for its issue, and, feigning madness,
caught up a burning torch, and seemed as if he would have set his own
house on fire. Others report, that he did not take upon him to act the
madman, but secretly in the night set his house on fire, and the next
morning besought the people, that for his comfort, after such a
calamity, they would spare his son from the expedition. By which
artifice, he deceived his fellow-citizens, and obtained of them what he
desired.
Together with Alcibiades, Nicias, much against his will, was
appointed general: and he endeavored to avoid the command, not the less
on account of his colleague. But the Athenians thought the war would
proceed more prosperously, if they did not send Alcibiades free from all
restraint, but tempered his heat with the caution of Nicias. This they
chose the rather to do, because Lamachus, the third general, though he
was of mature years, yet in several battles had appeared no less hot and
rash than Alcibiades himself. When they began to deliberate of the
number of forces, and of the manner of making the necessary provisions,
Nicias made another attempt to oppose the design, and to prevent the
war; but Alcibiades contradicted him, and carried his point with the
people. And one Demostratus, an orator, proposing to give the generals
absolute power over the preparations and the whole management of the
war, it was presently decreed so. When all things were fitted for the
voyage, many unlucky omens appeared. At that very time the feast of
Adonis happened, in which the women were used to expose, in all parts of
the city, images resembling dead men carried out to their burial, and to
represent funeral solemnities by lamentations and mournful songs. The
mutilation, however, of the images of Mercury, most of which, in one
night, had their faces all disfigured, terrified many persons who were
wont to despise most things of that nature. It was given out that it was
done by the Corinthians, for the sake of the Syracusans, who were their
colony, in hopes that the Athenians, by such prodigies, might be induced
to delay or abandon the war. But the report gained no credit with the
people, nor yet the opinion of those who would not believe that there
was anything ominous in the matter, but that it was only an extravagant
action, committed, in that sort of sport which runs into license, by
wild young men coming from a debauch. Alike enraged and terrified at the
thing, looking upon it to proceed from a conspiracy of persons who
designed some commotions in the state, the council, as well as the
assembly of the people, which was held frequently in a few days’ space,
examined diligently everything that might administer ground for
suspicion. During this examination, Androcles, one of the demagogues,
produced certain slaves and strangers before them, who accused
Alcibiades and some of his friends of defacing other images in the same
manner, and of having profanely acted the sacred mysteries at a drunken
meeting, where one Theodorus represented the herald, Polytion the
torch-bearer, and Alcibiades the chief priest, while the rest of the
party appeared as candidates for initiation, and received the title of
Initiates. These were the matters contained in the articles of
information, which Thessalus, the son of Cimon, exhibited against
Alcibiades, for his impious mockery of the goddesses, Ceres and
Proserpine. The people were highly exasperated and incensed against
Alcibiades upon this accusation, which, being aggravated by Androcles,
the most malicious of all his enemies, at first disturbed his friends
exceedingly. But when they perceived that all the sea-men designed for
Sicily were for him, and the soldiers also, and when the Argive and
Mantinean auxiliaries, a thousand men at arms, openly declared that they
had undertaken this distant maritime expedition for the sake of
Alcibiades, and that, if he was ill-used, they would all go home, they
recovered their courage, and became eager to make use of the present
opportunity for justifying him. At this his enemies were again
discouraged, fearing lest the people should be more gentle to him in
their sentence, because of the occasion they had for his service.
Therefore, to obviate this, they contrived that some other orators, who
did not appear to be enemies to Alcibiades, but really hated him no less
than those who avowed it, should stand up in the assembly and say, that
it was a very absurd thing that one who was created general of such an
army with absolute power, after his troops were assembled, and the
confederates were come, should lose the opportunity, whilst the people
were choosing his judges by lot, and appointing times for the hearing of
the cause. And, therefore, let him set sail at once; good fortune attend
him; and when the war should be at an end, he might then in person make
his defense according to the laws.
Alcibiades perceived the malice of this postponement, and, appearing
in the assembly represented that it was monstrous for him to be sent
with the command of so large an army, when he lay under such accusations
and calumnies; that he deserved to die, if he could not clear himself of
the crimes objected to him; but when he had so done, and had proved his
innocence, he should then cheerfully apply himself to the war, as
standing no longer in fear of false accusers. But he could not prevail
with the people, who commanded him to sail immediately. So he departed,
together with the other generals, having with them near 140 galleys,
5,100 men at arms, and about 1,300 archers, slingers, and light-armed
men, and all the other provisions corresponding.
Arriving on the coast of Italy, he landed at Rhegium, and there
stated his views of the manner in which they ought to conduct the war.
He was opposed by Nicias, but Lamachus being of his opinion, they sailed
for Sicily forthwith, and took Catana. This was all that was done while
he was there, for he was soon after recalled by the Athenians to abide
his trial. At first, as we before said, there were only some slight
suspicions advanced against Alcibiades, and accusations by certain
slaves and strangers. But afterwards, in his absence, his enemies
attacked him more violently, and confounded together the breaking the
images with the profanation of the mysteries, as though both had been
committed in pursuance of the same conspiracy for changing the
government. The people proceeded to imprison all that were accused,
without distinction, and without hearing them, and repented now,
considering the importance of the charge, that they had not immediately
brought Alcibiades to his trial, and given judgment against him. Any of
his friends or acquaintance who fell into the people’s hands, whilst
they were in this fury, did not fail to meet with very severe usage.
Thucydides has omitted to name the informers, but others mention
Dioclides and Teucer. Amongst whom is Phrynichus, the comic poet, in
whom we find the following:—
“O dearest Hermes! only do take care,
And mind you do not miss your footing there;
Should you get hurt, occasion may arise
For a new Dioclides to tell lies.”
To which he makes Mercury return this answer:—
“I will so, for I feel no inclination
To reward Teucer for more information.”
The truth is, his accusers alleged nothing that was certain or solid
against him. One of them, being asked how he knew the men who defaced
the images, replying, that he saw them by the light of the moon, made a
palpable misstatement, for it was just new moon when the fact was
committed. This made all men of understanding cry out upon the thing;
but the people were as eager as ever to receive further accusations, nor
was their first heat at all abated, but they instantly seized and
imprisoned every one that was accused. Amongst those who were detained
in prison for their trials was Andocides the orator, whose descent the
historian Hellanicus deduces from Ulysses. He was always supposed to
hate popular government, and to support oligarchy. The chief ground of
his being suspected of defacing the images was because the great
Mercury, which stood near his house, and was an ancient monument of the
tribe Aegeis, was almost the only statue of all the remarkable ones,
which remained entire. For this cause, it is now called the Mercury of
Andocides, all men giving it that name, though the inscription is
evidence to the contrary. It happened that Andocides, amongst the rest
who were prisoners upon the same account, contracted particular
acquaintance and intimacy with one Timaeus, a person inferior to him in
repute, but of remarkable dexterity and boldness. He persuaded Andocides
to accuse himself and some few others of this crime, urging to him that,
upon his confession, he would be, by the decree of the people, secure of
his pardon, whereas the event of judgment is uncertain to all men, but
to great persons, such as he was, most formidable. So that it was better
for him, if he regarded himself, to save his life by a falsity, than to
suffer an infamous death, as really guilty of the crime. And if he had
regard to the public good, it was commendable to sacrifice a few
suspected men, by that means to rescue many excellent persons from the
fury of the people. Andocides was prevailed upon, and accused himself
and some others, and, by the terms of the decree, obtained his pardon,
while all the persons named by him, except some few who had saved
themselves by flight, suffered death. To gain the greater credit to his
information, he accused his own servants amongst others. But
notwithstanding this, the people’s anger was not wholly appeased; and
being now no longer diverted by the mutilators, they were at leisure to
pour out their whole rage upon Alcibiades. And, in conclusion, they sent
the galley named the Salaminian, to recall him. But they expressly
commanded those that were sent, to use no violence, nor seize upon his
person, but address themselves to him in the mildest terms, requiring
him to follow them to Athens in order to abide his trial, and clear
himself before the people. For they feared mutiny and sedition in the
army in an enemy’s country, which indeed it would have been easy for
Alcibiades to effect, if he had wished it. For the soldiers were
dispirited upon his departure, expecting for the future tedious delays,
and that the war would be drawn out into a lazy length by Nicias, when
Alcibiades, who was the spur to action, was taken away. For though
Lamachus was a soldier, and a man of courage, poverty deprived him of
authority and respect in the army. Alcibiades, just upon his departure,
prevented Messena from falling into the hands of the Athenians. There
were some in that city who were upon the point of delivering it up, but
he, knowing the persons, gave information to some friends of the
Syracusans, and so defeated the whole contrivance. When he arrived at
Thurii, he went on shore, and, concealing himself there, escaped those
who searched after him. But to one who knew him, and asked him if he
durst not trust his own native country, he made answer, “In everything
else, yes; but in a matter that touches my life, I would not even my own
mother, lest she might by mistake throw in the black ball instead of the
white.” When, afterwards, he was told that the assembly had pronounced
judgment of death against him, all he said was, “I will make them feel
that I am alive.”
The information against him was conceived in this form:—
“Thessalus, the son of Cimon, of the township of Lacia, lays
information that Alcibiades, the son of Clinias, of the township of the
Scambonidae, has committed a crime against the goddesses Ceres and
Proserpine, by representing in derision the holy mysteries, and showing
them to his companions in his own house. Where, being habited in such
robes as are used by the chief priest when he shows the holy things, he
named himself the chief priest, Polytion the torch-bearer, and
Theodorus, of the township of Phegaea, the herald; and saluted the rest
of his company as Initiates and Novices. All which was done contrary to
the laws and institutions of the Eumolpidae, and the heralds and priests
of the temple at Eleusis.”
He was condemned as contumacious upon his not appearing, his property
confiscated, and it was decreed that all the priests and priestesses
should solemnly curse him. But one of them, Theano, the daughter of
Menon, of the township of Agraule, is said to have opposed that part of
the decree, saying that her holy office obliged her to make prayers, but
not execrations.
Alcibiades, lying under these heavy decrees and sentences, when first
he fled from Thurii, passed over into Peloponnesus and remained some
time at Argos. But being there in fear of his enemies and seeing himself
utterly hopeless of return to his native country, he sent to Sparta,
desiring safe conduct, and assuring them that he would make them amends
by his future services for all the mischief he had done them while he
was their enemy. The Spartans giving him the security he desired, he
went eagerly, was well received, and, at his very first coming,
succeeded in inducing them, without any further caution or delay, to
send aid to the Syracusans; and so roused and excited them, that they
forthwith dispatched Gylippus into Sicily, to crush the forces which the
Athenians had in Sicily. A second point was, to renew the war upon the
Athenians at home. But the third thing, and the most important of all,
was to make them fortify Decelea, which above everything reduced and
wasted the resources of the Athenians.
The renown which he earned by these public services was equaled by
the admiration he attracted to his private life; he captivated and won
over everybody by his conformity to Spartan habits. People who saw him
wearing his hair close cut, bathing in cold water, eating coarse meal,
and dining on black broth, doubted, or rather could not believe, that he
ever had a cook in his house, or had ever seen a perfumer, or had worn a
mantle of Milesian purple. For he had, as it was observed, this peculiar
talent and artifice for gaining men’s affections, that he could at once
comply with and really embrace and enter into their habits and ways of
life, and change faster than the chameleon. One color, indeed, they say
the chameleon cannot assume; it cannot make itself appear white; but
Alcibiades, whether with good men or with bad, could adapt himself to
his company, and equally wear the appearance of virtue or vice. At
Sparta, he was devoted to athletic exercises, was frugal and reserved;
in Ionia, luxurious, gay, and indolent; in Thrace, always drinking; in
Thessaly, ever on horseback; and when he lived with Tisaphernes, the
Persian satrap, he exceeded the Persians themselves in magnificence and
pomp. Not that his natural disposition changed so easily, nor that his
real character was so very variable, but, whenever he was sensible that
by pursuing his own inclinations he might give offense to those with
whom he had occasion to converse, he transformed himself into any shape,
and adopted any fashion, that he observed to be most agreeable to them.
So that to have seen him at Lacedaemon, a man, judging by the outward
appearance, would have said, “’Tis not Achilles’s son, but he himself,
the very man” that Lycurgus designed to form; while his real feelings
and acts would have rather provoked the exclamation, “’Tis the same
woman still.” For while king Agis was absent, and abroad with the army,
he corrupted his wife Timaea, and had a child born by her. Nor did she
even deny it, but when she was brought to bed of a son, called him in
public Leotychides, but, amongst her confidants and attendants, would
whisper that his name was Alcibiades. To such a degree was she
transported by her passion for him. He, on the other side, would say, in
his vain way, he had not done this thing out of mere wantonness of
insult, nor to gratify a passion, but that his race might one day be
kings over the Lacedaemonians.
There were many who told Agis that this was so, but time itself gave
the greatest confirmation to the story. For Agis, alarmed by an
earthquake, had quitted his wife, and, for ten months after, was never
with her; Leotychides, therefore, being born after those ten months, he
would not acknowledge him for his son; which was the reason that
afterwards he was not admitted to the succession.
After the defeat which the Athenians received in Sicily, ambassadors
were dispatched to Sparta at once from Chios and Lesbos and Cyzicus, to
signify their purpose of revolting from the Athenians. The Boeotians
interposed in favor of the Lesbians, and Pharnabazus of the Cyzicenes,
but the Lacedaemonians, at the persuasion of Alcibiades, chose to assist
Chios before all others. He himself, also, went instantly to sea,
procured the immediate revolt of almost all Ionia, and, cooperating with
the Lacedaemonian generals, did great mischief to the Athenians. But
Agis was his enemy, hating him for having dishonored his wife, and also
impatient of his glory, as almost every enterprise and every success was
ascribed to Alcibiades. Others, also, of the most powerful and ambitious
amongst the Spartans, were possessed with jealousy of him, and, at last,
prevailed with the magistrates in the city to send orders into Ionia
that he should be killed. Alcibiades, however, had secret intelligence
of this, and, in apprehension of the result, while he communicated all
affairs to the Lacedaemonians, yet took care not to put himself into
their power. At last he retired to Tisaphernes, the king of Persia’s
satrap, for his security, and immediately became the first and most
influential person about him. For this barbarian, not being himself
sincere, but a lover of guile and wickedness, admired his address and
wonderful subtlety. And, indeed, the charm of daily intercourse with him
was more than any character could resist or any disposition escape. Even
those who feared and envied him could not but take delight, and have a
sort of kindness for him, when they saw him and were in his company. So
that Tisaphernes, otherwise a cruel character, and, above all other
Persians, a hater of the Greeks, was yet so won by the flatteries of
Alcibiades, that he set himself even to exceed him in responding to
them. The most beautiful of his parks, containing salubrious streams and
meadows, where he had built pavilions, and places of retirement royally
and exquisitely adorned, received by his direction the name of
Alcibiades, and was always so called and so spoken of.
Thus Alcibiades, quitting the interests of the Spartans, whom he
could no longer trust, because he stood in fear of Agis, endeavored to
do them ill offices, and render them odious to Tisaphernes, who, by his
means, was hindered from assisting them vigorously, and from finally
ruining the Athenians. For his advice was to furnish them but sparingly
with money, and so wear them out, and consume them insensibly; when they
had wasted their strength upon one another, they would both become ready
to submit to the king. Tisaphernes readily pursued his counsel, and so
openly expressed the liking and admiration which he had for him, that
Alcibiades was looked up to by the Greeks of both parties, and the
Athenians, now in their misfortunes, repented them of their severe
sentence against him. And he, on the other side, began to be troubled
for them, and to fear lest, if that commonwealth were utterly destroyed,
he should fall into the hands of the Lacedaemonians, his enemies.
At that time the whole strength of the Athenians was in Samos. Their
fleet maintained itself here, and issued from these head-quarters to
reduce such as had revolted, and protect the rest of their territories;
in one way or other still contriving to be a match for their enemies at
sea. What they stood in fear of, was Tisaphernes and the Phoenician
fleet of one hundred and fifty galleys, which was said to be already
under sail; if those came, there remained then no hopes for the
commonwealth of Athens. Understanding this, Alcibiades sent secretly to
the chief men of the Athenians, who were then at Samos, giving them
hopes that he would make Tisaphernes their friend; he was willing, he
implied, to do some favor, not to the people, nor in reliance upon them,
but to the better citizens, if only, like brave men, they would make the
attempt to put down the insolence of the people, and, by taking upon
them the government, would endeavor to save the city from ruin. All of
them gave a ready ear to the proposal made by Alcibiades, except only
Phrynichus of the township of Dirades, one of the generals, who
suspected, as the truth was, that Alcibiades concerned not himself
whether the government were in the people or the better citizens, but
only sought by any means to make way for his return into his native
country, and to that end inveighed against the people, thereby to gain
the others, and to insinuate himself into their good opinion. But when
Phrynichus found his counsel to be rejected, and that he was himself
become a declared enemy of Alcibiades, he gave secret intelligence to
Astyochus, the enemy’s admiral, cautioning him to beware of Alcibiades,
and to seize him as a double dealer, unaware that one traitor was making
discoveries to another. For Astyochus, who was eager to gain the favor
of Tisaphernes, observing the credit Alcibiades had with him, revealed
to Alcibiades all that Phrynichus had said against him. Alcibiades at
once dispatched messengers to Samos, to accuse Phrynichus of the
treachery. Upon this, all the commanders were enraged with Phrynichus,
and set themselves against him, and he, seeing no other way to extricate
himself from the present danger, attempted to remedy one evil by a
greater. He sent to Astyochus to reproach him for betraying him, and to
make an offer to him at the same time, to deliver into his hands both
the army and the navy of the Athenians. This occasioned no damage to the
Athenians, because Astyochus repeated his treachery, and revealed also
this proposal to Alcibiades. But this again was foreseen by Phrynichus,
who, expecting a second accusation from Alcibiades, to anticipate him,
advertised the Athenians beforehand that the enemy was ready to sail in
order to surprise them, and therefore advised them to fortify their
camp, and to be in a readiness to go aboard their ships. While the
Athenians were intent upon doing these things, they received other
letters from Alcibiades, admonishing them to beware of Phrynichus, as
one who designed to betray their fleet to the enemy, to which they then
gave no credit at all, conceiving that Alcibiades, who knew perfectly
the counsels and preparations of the enemy, was merely making use of
that knowledge, in order to impose upon them in this false accusation of
Phrynichus. Yet, afterwards, when Phrynichus was stabbed with a dagger
in the market-place by Hermon, one of the guard, the Athenians, entering
into an examination of the cause, solemnly condemned Phrynichus of
treason, and decreed crowns to Hermon and his associates. And now the
friends of Alcibiades, carrying all before them at Samos, dispatched
Pisander to Athens, to attempt a change of government, and to encourage
the aristocratical citizens to take upon themselves the government, and
overthrow the democracy, representing to them, that, upon these terms,
Alcibiades would procure them the friendship and alliance of Tisaphernes.
This was the color and pretense made use of by those who desired to
change the government of Athens to an oligarchy. But as soon as they
prevailed, and had got the administration of affairs into their hands,
under the name of the Five Thousand (whereas, indeed, they were but four
hundred), they slighted Alcibiades altogether, and prosecuted the war
with less vigor; partly because they durst not yet trust the citizens,
who secretly detested this change, and partly because they thought the
Lacedaemonians, who always befriended the government of the few, would
be inclined to give them favorable terms.
The people in the city were terrified into submission, many of those
who had dared openly to oppose the four hundred having been put to
death. But those who were at Samos, indignant when they heard this news,
were eager to set sail instantly for the Piraeus; and, sending for
Alcibiades, they declared him general, requiring him to lead them on to
put down the tyrants. He, however, in that juncture, did not, as it
might have been thought a man would, on being suddenly exalted by the
favor of a multitude, think himself under an obligation to gratify and
submit to all the wishes of those who, from a fugitive and an exile, had
created him general of so great an army, and given him the command of
such a fleet. But, as became a great captain, he opposed himself to the
precipitate resolutions which their rage led them to, and, by
restraining them from the great error they were about to commit,
unequivocally saved the commonwealth. For if they then had sailed to
Athens, all Ionia and the islands and the Hellespont would have fallen
into the enemies’ hands without opposition, while the Athenians,
involved in civil war, would have been fighting with one another within
the circuit of their own walls. It was Alcibiades alone, or, at least,
principally, who prevented all this mischief; for he not only used
persuasion to the whole army, and showed them the danger, but applied
himself to them, one by one, entreating some, and constraining others.
He was much assisted, however, by Thrasybulus of Stiria, who, having the
loudest voice, as we are told of all the Athenians, went along with him,
and cried out to those who were ready to be gone. A second great service
which Alcibiades did for them was, his undertaking that the Phoenician
fleet, which the Lacedaemonians expected to be sent to them by the king
of Persia, should either come in aid of the Athenians, or otherwise
should not come at all. He sailed off with all expedition in order to
perform this, and the ships, which had already been seen as near as
Aspendus, were not brought any further by Tisaphernes, who thus deceived
the Lacedaemonians; and it was by both sides believed that they had been
diverted by the procurement of Alcibiades. The Lacedaemonians, in
particular, accused him, that he had advised the Barbarian to stand
still, and suffer the Greeks to waste and destroy one another, as it was
evident that the accession of so great a force to either party would
enable them to take away the entire dominion of the sea from the other
side.
Soon after this, the four hundred usurpers were driven out, the
friends of Alcibiades vigorously assisting those who were for the
popular government. And now the people in the city not only desired, but
commanded Alcibiades to return home from his exile. He, however, desired
not to owe his return to the mere grace and commiseration of the people,
and resolved to come back, not with empty hands, but with glory, and
after some service done. To this end, he sailed from Samos with a few
ships, and cruised on the sea of Cnidos, and about the isle of Cos; but
receiving intelligence there that Mindarus, the Spartan admiral, had
sailed with his whole army into the Hellespont, and that the Athenians
had followed him, he hurried back to succor the Athenian commanders,
and, by good fortune, arrived with eighteen galleys at a critical time.
For both the fleets having engaged near Abydos, the fight between them
had lasted till night, the one side having the advantage on one quarter,
and the other on another. Upon his first appearance, both sides formed a
false impression; the enemy was encouraged, and the Athenians terrified.
But Alcibiades suddenly raised the Athenian ensign in the admiral ship,
and fell upon those galleys of the Peloponnesians which had the
advantage and were in pursuit. He soon put these to flight, and followed
them so close that he forced them on shore, and broke the ships in
pieces, the sailors abandoning them and swimming away, in spite of all
the efforts of Pharnabazus, who had come down to their assistance by
land, and did what he could to protect them from the shore. In fine, the
Athenians, having taken thirty of the enemy’s ships, and recovered all
their own, erected a trophy. After the gaining of so glorious a victory,
his vanity made him eager to show himself to Tisaphernes, and, having
furnished himself with gifts and presents, and an equipage suitable to
his dignity, he set out to visit him. But the thing did not succeed as
he had imagined, for Tisaphernes had been long suspected by the
Lacedaemonians, and was afraid to fall into disgrace with his king, upon
that account, and therefore thought that Alcibiades arrived very
opportunely, and immediately caused him to be seized, and sent away
prisoner to Sardis; fancying, by this act of injustice, to clear himself
from all former imputations.
But about thirty days after, Alcibiades escaped from his keepers,
and, having got a horse, fled to Clazomenae, where he procured
Tisaphernes’ additional disgrace by professing he was a party to his
escape. From there he sailed to the Athenian camp, and, being informed
there that Mindarus and Pharnabazus were together at Cyzicus, he made a
speech to the soldiers, telling them that sea-fighting, land-fighting,
and, by the gods, fighting against fortified cities too, must be all one
for them, as, unless they conquered everywhere, there was no money for
them. As soon as ever he got them on shipboard, he hasted to Proconnesus,
and gave command to seize all the small vessels they met, and guard them
safely in the interior of the fleet, that the enemy might have no notice
of his coming; and a great storm of rain, accompanied with thunder and
darkness, which happened at the same time, contributed much to the
concealment of his enterprise. Indeed, it was not only undiscovered by
the enemy, but the Athenians themselves were ignorant of it, for he
commanded them suddenly on board, and set sail when they had abandoned
all intention of it. As the darkness presently passed away, the
Peloponnesian fleet were seen riding out at sea in front of the harbor
of Cyzicus. Fearing, if they discovered the number of his ships, they
might endeavor to save themselves by land, he commanded the rest of the
captains to slacken, and follow him slowly, whilst he, advancing with
forty ships, showed himself to the enemy, and provoked them to fight.
The enemy, being deceived as to their numbers; despised them, and,
supposing they were to contend with those only, made themselves ready
and began the fight. But as soon as they were engaged, they perceived
the other part of the fleet coming down upon them, at which they were so
terrified that they fled immediately. Upon that, Alcibiades, breaking
through the midst of them with twenty of his best ships, hastened to the
shore, disembarked, and pursued those who abandoned their ships and fled
to land, and made a great slaughter of them. Mindarus and Pharnabazus,
coming to their succor, were utterly defeated. Mindarus was slain upon
the place, fighting valiantly; Pharnabazus saved himself by flight. The
Athenians slew great numbers of their enemies, won much spoil, and took
all their ships. They also made themselves masters of Cyzicus, which was
deserted by Pharnabazus, and destroyed its Peloponnesian garrison, and
thereby not only secured to themselves the Hellespont, but by force
drove the Lacedaemonians from out of all the rest of the sea. They
intercepted some letters written to the ephors, which gave an account of
this fatal overthrow, after their short laconic manner. “Our hopes are
at an end. Mindarus is slain. The men starve. We know not what to do.”
The soldiers who followed Alcibiades in this last fight were so
exalted with their success, and felt that degree of pride, that, looking
on themselves as invincible, they disdained to mix with the other
soldiers, who had been often overcome. For it happened not long before,
Thrasyllus had received a defeat near Ephesus, and, upon that occasion,
the Ephesians erected their brazen trophy to the disgrace of the
Athenians. The soldiers of Alcibiades reproached those who were under
the command of Thrasyllus with this misfortune, at the same time
magnifying themselves and their own commander, and it went so far that
they would not exercise with them, nor lodge in the same quarters. But
soon after, Pharnabazus, with a great force of horse and foot, falling
upon the soldiers of Thrasyllus, as they were laying waste the territory
of Abydos, Alcibiades came to their aid, routed Pharnabazus, and,
together with Thrasyllus, pursued him till it was night; and in this
action the troops united, and returned together to the camp, rejoicing
and congratulating one another. The next day he erected a trophy, and
then proceeded to lay waste with fire and sword the whole province which
was under Pharnabazus, where none ventured to resist; and he took divers
priests and priestesses, but released them without ransom. He prepared
next to attack the Chalcedonians, who had revolted from the Athenians,
and had received a Lacedaemonian governor and garrison. But having
intelligence that they had removed their corn and cattle out of the
fields, and were conveying it all to the Bithynians, who were their
friends, he drew down his army to the frontier of the Bithynians, and
then sent a herald to charge them with this proceeding. The Bithynians,
terrified at his approach, delivered up to him the booty, and entered
into alliance with him.
Afterwards he proceeded to the siege of Chalcedon, and enclosed it
with a wall from sea to sea. Pharnabazus advanced with his forces to
raise the siege, and Hippocrates, the governor of the town, at the same
time, gathering together all the strength he had, made a sally upon the
Athenians. Alcibiades divided his army so as to engage them both at
once, and not only forced Pharnabazus to a dishonorable flight, but
defeated Hippocrates, and killed him and a number of the soldiers with
him. After this he sailed into the Hellespont, in order to raise
supplies of money, and took the city of Selymbria, in which action,
through his precipitation, he exposed himself to great danger. For some
within the town had undertaken to betray it into his hands, and, by
agreement, were to give him a signal by a lighted torch about midnight.
But one of the conspirators beginning to repent himself of the design,
the rest, for fear of being discovered, were driven to give the signal
before the appointed hour. Alcibiades, as soon as he saw the torch
lifted up in the air, though his army was not in readiness to march, ran
instantly towards the walls, taking with him about thirty men only, and
commanding the rest of the army to follow him with all possible speed.
When he came thither, he found the gate opened for him, and entered with
his thirty men, and about twenty more light-armed men, who were come up
to them. They were no sooner in the city, but he perceived the
Selymbrians all armed, coming down upon him; so that there was no hope
of escaping if he stayed to receive them; and, on the other hand, having
been always successful till that day, wherever he commanded, he could
not endure to be defeated and fly. So, requiring silence by sound of a
trumpet, he commanded one of his men to make proclamation that the
Selymbrians should not take arms against the Athenians. This cooled such
of the inhabitants as were fiercest for the fight, for they supposed
that all their enemies were within the walls, and it raised the hopes of
others who were disposed to an accommodation. Whilst they were
parleying, and propositions making on one side and the other,
Alcibiades’s whole army came up to the town. And now, conjecturing
rightly, that the Selymbrians were well inclined to peace, and fearing
lest the city might be sacked by the Thracians, who came in great
numbers to his army to serve as volunteers, out of kindness for him, he
commanded them all to retreat without the walls. And upon the submission
of the Selymbrians, he saved them from being pillaged, only taking of
them a sum of money, and, after placing an Athenian garrison in the
town, departed.
During this action, the Athenian captains who besieged Chalcedon
concluded a treaty with Pharnabazus upon these articles: that he should
give them a sum of money; that the Chalcedonians should return to the
subjection of Athens; and that the Athenians should make no inroad into
the province whereof Pharnabazus was governor; and Pharnabazus was also
to provide safe conducts for the Athenian ambassadors to the king of
Persia. Afterwards, when Alcibiades returned thither, Pharnabazus
required that he also should be sworn to the treaty; but he refused it,
unless Pharnabazus would swear at the same time. When the treaty was
sworn to on both sides Alcibiades went against the Byzantines, who had
revolted from the Athenians, and drew a line of circumvallation about
the city. But Anaxilaus and Lycurgus, together with some others, having
undertaken to betray the city to him upon his engagement to preserve the
lives and property of the inhabitants, he caused a report to be spread
abroad, as if, by reason of some unexpected movement in Ionia, he should
be obliged to raise the siege. And, accordingly, that day he made a show
to depart with his whole fleet; but returned the same night, and went
ashore with all his men at arms, and, silently and undiscovered, marched
up to the walls. At the same time, his ships rowed into the harbor with
all possible violence, coming on with much fury, and with great shouts
and outcries. The Byzantines, thus surprised and astonished, while they
all hurried to the defense of their port and shipping, gave opportunity
to those who favored the Athenians, securely to receive Alcibiades into
the city. Yet the enterprise was not accomplished without fighting, for
the Peloponnesians, Boeotians, and Megarians not only repulsed those who
came out of the ships, and forced them on board again, but, hearing that
the Athenians were entered on the other side, drew up in order, and went
to meet them. Alcibiades, however, gained the victory after some sharp
fighting, in which he himself had the command of the right wing, and
Theramenes of the left, and took about three hundred, who survived of
the enemy, prisoners of war. After the battle, not one of the Byzantines
was slain, or driven out of the city, according to the terms upon which
the city was put into his hands, that they should receive no prejudice
in life or property. And thus Anaxilaus, being afterwards accused at
Lacedaemon for this treason, neither disowned nor professed to be
ashamed of the action; for he urged that he was not a Lacedaemonian, but
a Byzantine and saw not Sparta, but Byzantium, in extreme danger; the
city so blockaded that it was not possible to bring in any new
provisions, and the Peloponnesians and Boeotians, who were in garrison,
devouring the old stores, whilst the Byzantines, with their wives and
children, were starving; that he had not, therefore, betrayed his
country to enemies, but had delivered it from the calamities of war, and
had but followed the example of the most worthy Lacedaemonians, who
esteemed nothing to be honorable and just, but what was profitable for
their country. The Lacedaemonians, upon hearing his defense, respected
it, and discharged all that were accused.
And now Alcibiades began to desire to see his native country again,
or rather to show his fellow-citizens a person who had gained so many
victories for them. He set sail for Athens, the ships that accompanied
him being adorned with great numbers of shields and other spoils, and
towing after them many galleys taken from the enemy, and the ensigns and
ornaments of many others which he had sunk and destroyed; all of them
together amounting to two hundred. Little credit, perhaps, can be given
to what Duris the Samian, who professed to be descended from Alcibiades,
adds, that Chrysogonus, who had gained a victory at the Pythian games,
played upon his flute for the galleys, whilst the oars kept time with
the music; and that Callippides, the tragedian, attired in his buskins,
his purple robes, and other ornaments used in the theater, gave the word
to the rowers, and that the admiral galley entered into the port with a
purple sail. Neither Theopompus, nor Ephorus, nor Xenophon, mention
them. Nor, indeed, is it credible, that one who returned from so long an
exile, and such variety of misfortunes, should come home to his
countrymen in the style of revelers breaking up from a drinking-party.
On the contrary, he entered the harbor full of fear, nor would he
venture to go on shore, till, standing on the deck, he saw Euryptolemus,
his cousin, and others of his friends and acquaintance, who were ready
to receive him, and invited him to land. As soon as he was landed, the
multitude who came out to meet him scarcely seemed so much as to see any
of the other captains, but came in throngs about Alcibiades, and saluted
him with loud acclamations, and still followed him; those who could
press near him crowned him with garlands, and they who could not come up
so close yet stayed to behold him afar off, and the old men pointed him
out, and showed him to the young ones. Nevertheless, this public joy was
mixed with some tears, and the present happiness was allayed by the
remembrance of the miseries they had endured. They made reflections,
that they could not have so unfortunately miscarried in Sicily, or been
defeated in any of their other expectations, if they had left the
management of their affairs formerly, and the command of their forces,
to Alcibiades, since, upon his undertaking the administration, when they
were in a manner driven from the sea, and could scarce defend the
suburbs of their city by land, and, at the same time, were miserably
distracted with intestine factions, he had raised them up from this low
and deplorable condition, and had not only restored them to their
ancient dominion of the sea, but had also made them everywhere
victorious over their enemies on land.
There had been a decree for recalling him from his banishment already
passed by the people, at the instance of Critias, the son of
Callaeschrus, as appears by his elegies, in which he puts Alcibiades in
mind of this service:—
From my proposal did that edict come,
Which from your tedious exile brought you home;
The public vote at first was moved by me,
And my voice put the seal to the decree.
The people being summoned to an assembly, Alcibiades came in amongst
them, and first bewailed and lamented his own sufferings, and, in gentle
terms complaining of the usage he had received, imputed all to his hard
fortune, and some ill genius that attended him: then he spoke at large
of their prospects, and exhorted them to courage and good hope. The
people crowned him with crowns of gold, and created him general, both at
land and sea, with absolute power. They also made a decree that his
estate should be restored to him, and that the Eumolpidae and the holy
heralds should absolve him from the curses which they had solemnly
pronounced against him by sentence of the people. Which when all the
rest obeyed, Theodorus, the high-priest, excused himself, “For,” said
he, “if he is innocent, I never cursed him.”
But notwithstanding the affairs of Alcibiades went so prosperously,
and so much to his glory, yet many were still somewhat disturbed, and
looked upon the time of his arrival to be ominous. For on the day that
he came into the port, the feast of the goddess Minerva, which they call
the Plynteria, was kept. It is the twenty-fifth day of Thargelion, when
the Praxiergidae solemnize their secret rites, taking all the ornaments
from off her image, and keeping the part of the temple where it stands
close covered. Hence the Athenians esteem this day most inauspicious and
never undertake any thing of importance upon it; and, therefore, they
imagined that the goddess did not receive Alcibiades graciously and
propitiously, thus hiding her face and rejecting him. Yet,
notwithstanding, everything succeeded according to his wish. When the
one hundred galleys, that were to return with him, were fitted out and
ready to sail, an honorable zeal detained him till the celebration of
the mysteries was over. For ever since Decelea had been occupied, as the
enemy commanded the roads leading from Athens to Eleusis, the
procession, being conducted by sea, had not been performed with any
proper solemnity; they were forced to omit the sacrifices and dances and
other holy ceremonies, which had usually been performed in the way, when
they led forth Iacchus. Alcibiades, therefore, judged it would be a
glorious action, which would do honor to the gods and gain him esteem
with men, if he restored the ancient splendor to these rites, escorting
the procession again by land, and protecting it with his army in the
face of the enemy. For either, if Agis stood still and did not oppose,
it would very much diminish and obscure his reputation, or, in the other
alternative, Alcibiades would engage in a holy war, in the cause of the
gods, and in defense of the most sacred and solemn ceremonies; and this
in the sight of his country, where he should have all his
fellow-citizens witnesses of his valor. As soon as he had resolved upon
this design, and had communicated it to the Eumolpidae and heralds, he
placed sentinels on the tops of the hills, and at the break of day sent
forth his scouts. And then taking with him the priests and Initiates and
the Initiators, and encompassing them with his soldiers, he conducted
them with great order and profound silence; an august and venerable
procession, wherein all who did not envy him said, he performed at once
the office of a high-priest and of a general. The enemy did not dare to
attempt any thing against them, and thus he brought them back in safety
to the city. Upon which, as he was exalted in his own thought, so the
opinion which the people had of his conduct was raised to that degree,
that they looked upon their armies as irresistible and invincible while
he commanded them; and he so won, indeed, upon the lower and meaner sort
of people, that they passionately desired to have him “tyrant” over
them, and some of them did not scruple to tell him so, and to advise him
to put himself out of the reach of envy, by abolishing the laws and
ordinances of the people, and suppressing the idle talkers that were
ruining the state, that so he might act and take upon him the management
of affairs, without standing in fear of being called to an account.
How far his own inclinations led him to usurp sovereign power, is
uncertain, but the most considerable persons in the city were so much
afraid of it, that they hastened him on ship-board as speedily as they
could, appointing the colleagues whom he chose, and allowing him all
other things as he desired. Thereupon he set sail with a fleet of one
hundred ships, and, arriving at Andros, he there fought with and
defeated as well the inhabitants as the Lacedaemonians who assisted
them. He did not, however, take the city; which gave the first occasion
to his enemies for all their accusations against him. Certainly, if ever
man was ruined by his own glory, it was Alcibiades. For his continual
success had produced such an idea of his courage and conduct, that, if
he failed in anything he undertook, it was imputed to his neglect, and
no one would believe it was through want of power. For they thought
nothing was too hard for him, if he went about it in good earnest. They
fancied, every day, that they should hear news of the reduction of Chios,
and of the rest of Ionia, and grew impatient that things were not
effected as fast and as rapidly as they could wish for them. They never
considered how extremely money was wanting, and that, having to carry on
war with an enemy who had supplies of all things from a great king, he
was often forced to quit his armament, in order to procure money and
provisions for the subsistence of his soldiers. This it was which gave
occasion for the last accusation which was made against him. For
Lysander, being sent from Lacedaemon with a commission to be admiral of
their fleet, and being furnished by Cyrus with a great sum of money,
gave every sailor four obols a day, whereas before they had but three.
Alcibiades could hardly allow his men three obols, and therefore was
constrained to go into Caria to furnish himself with money. He left the
care of the fleet, in his absence, to Antiochus, an experienced seaman,
but rash and inconsiderate, who had express orders from Alcibiades not
to engage, though the enemy provoked him. But he slighted and
disregarded these directions to that degree, that, having made ready his
own galley and another, he stood for Ephesus, where the enemy lay, and,
as he sailed before the heads of their galleys, used every provocation
possible, both in words and deeds. Lysander at first manned out a few
ships, and pursued him. But all the Athenian ships coming in to his
assistance, Lysander, also, brought up his whole fleet, which gained an
entire victory. He slew Antiochus himself, took many men and ships, and
erected a trophy.
As soon as Alcibiades heard this news, he returned to Samos, and
loosing from thence with his whole fleet, came and offered battle to
Lysander. But Lysander, content with the victory he had gained, would
not stir. Amongst others in the army who hated Alcibiades, Thrasybulus,
the son of Thrason, was his particular enemy, and went purposely to
Athens to accuse him, and to exasperate his enemies in the city against
him. Addressing the people, he represented that Alcibiades had ruined
their affairs and lost their ships by mere self-conceited neglect of his
duties, committing the government of the army, in his absence, to men
who gained his favor by drinking and scurrilous talking, whilst he
wandered up and down at pleasure to raise money, giving himself up to
every sort of luxury and excess amongst the courtesans of Abydos and
Ionia, at a time when the enemy’s navy were on the watch close at hand.
It was also objected to him, that he had fortified a castle near
Bisanthe in Thrace, for a safe retreat for himself, as one that either
could not, or would not, live in his own country. The Athenians gave
credit to these informations, and showed the resentment and displeasure
which they had conceived against him, by choosing other generals.
As soon as Alcibiades heard of this, he immediately forsook the army,
afraid of what might follow; and, collecting a body of mercenary
soldiers, made war upon his own account against those Thracians who
called themselves free, and acknowledged no king. By this means he
amassed to himself a considerable treasure, and, at the same time,
secured the bordering Greeks from the incursions of the barbarians.
Tydeus, Menander, and Adimantus, the new-made generals, were at that
time posted at Aegospotami, with all the ships which the Athenians had
left. From whence they were used to go out to sea every morning, and
offer battle to Lysander, who lay near Lampsacus; and when they had done
so, returning back again, lay, all the rest of the day, carelessly and
without order, in contempt of the enemy. Alcibiades, who was not far
off, did not think so slightly of their danger, nor neglect to let them
know it, but, mounting his horse, came to the generals, and represented
to them that they had chosen a very inconvenient station, where there
was no safe harbor, and where they were distant from any town; so that
they were constrained to send for their necessary provisions as far as
Sestos. He also pointed out to them their carelessness in suffering the
soldiers, when they went ashore, to disperse and wander up and down at
their pleasure, while the enemy’s fleet, under the command of one
general, and strictly obedient to discipline, lay so very near them. He
advised them to remove the fleet to Sestos. But the admirals not only
disregarded what he said, but Tydeus, with insulting expressions;
commanded him to be gone, saying, that now not he, but others, had the
command of the forces. Alcibiades, suspecting something of treachery in
them, departed, and told his friends, who accompanied him out of the
camp, that if the generals had not used him with such insupportable
contempt, he would within a few days have forced the Lacedaemonians,
however unwilling, either to have fought the Athenians at sea, or to
have deserted their ships. Some looked upon this as a piece of
ostentation only; others said, the thing was probable, for that he might
have brought down by land great numbers of the Thracian cavalry and
archers, to assault and disorder them in their camp. The event however,
soon made it evident how rightly he had judged of the errors which the
Athenians committed. For Lysander fell upon them on a sudden, when they
least suspected it, with such fury that Conon alone, with eight galleys,
escaped him; all the rest, which were about two hundred, he took and
carried away, together with three thousand prisoners, whom he put to
death. And within a short time after, he took Athens itself, burnt all
the ships which he found there, and demolished their long walls.
After this, Alcibiades, standing in dread of the Lacedaemonians, who
were now masters both at sea and land, retired into Bithynia. He sent
thither great treasure before him, took much with him, but left much
more in the castle where he had before resided. But he lost great part
of his wealth in Bithynia, being robbed by some Thracians who lived in
those parts, and thereupon determined to go to the court of Artaxerxes,
not doubting but that the king, if he would make trial of his abilities,
would find him not inferior to Themistocles, besides that he was
recommended by a more honorable cause. For he went, not as Themistocles
did, to offer his service against his fellow-citizens, but against their
enemies, and to implore the king’s aid for the defense of his country.
He concluded that Pharnabazus would most readily procure him a safe
conduct, and therefore went into Phrygia to him, and continued to dwell
there some time, paying him great respect, and being honorably treated
by him. The Athenians, in the meantime, were miserably afflicted at
their loss of empire, but when they were deprived of liberty also, and
Lysander set up thirty despotic rulers in the city, in their ruin now
they began to turn to those thoughts which, while safety was yet
possible, they would not entertain; they acknowledged and bewailed their
former errors and follies, and judged this second ill-usage of
Alcibiades to be of all the most inexcusable. For he was rejected,
without any fault committed by himself; and only because they were
incensed against his subordinate for having shamefully lost a few ships,
they much more shamefully deprived the commonwealth of its most valiant
and accomplished general. Yet in this sad state of affairs, they had
still some faint hopes left them, nor would they utterly despair of the
Athenian commonwealth, while Alcibiades was safe. For they persuaded
themselves that if before, when he was an exile, he could not content
himself to live idly and at ease, much less now, if he could find any
favorable opportunity, would he endure the insolence of the
Lacedaemonians, and the outrages of the Thirty. Nor was it an absurd
thing in the people to entertain such imaginations, when the Thirty
themselves were so very solicitous to be informed and to get
intelligence of all his actions and designs. In fine, Critias
represented to Lysander that the Lacedaemonians could never securely
enjoy the dominion of Greece, till the Athenian democracy was absolutely
destroyed; and though now the people of Athens seemed quietly and
patiently to submit to so small a number of governors, yet so long as
Alcibiades lived, the knowledge of this fact would never suffer them to
acquiesce in their present circumstances.
Yet Lysander would not be prevailed upon by these representations,
till at last he received secret orders from the magistrates of
Lacedaemon, expressly requiring him to get Alcibiades dispatched:
whether it was that they feared his energy and boldness in enterprising
what was hazardous, or that it was done to gratify king Agis. Upon
receipt of this order, Lysander sent away a messenger to Pharnabazus,
desiring him to put it in execution. Pharnabazus committed the affair to
Magaeus, his brother, and to his uncle Susamithres. Alcibiades resided
at that time in a small village in Phrygia, together with Timandra, a
mistress of his. As he slept, he had this dream: he thought himself
attired in his mistress’s habit, and that she, holding him in her arms,
dressed his head and painted his face as if he had been a woman; others
say, he dreamed that he saw Magaeus cut off his head and burn his body;
at any rate, it was but a little while before his death that he had
these visions. Those who were sent to assassinate him had not courage
enough to enter the house, but surrounded it first, and set it on fire.
Alcibiades, as soon as he perceived it, getting together great
quantities of clothes and furniture, threw them upon the fire to choke
it, and, having wrapped his cloak about his left arm, and holding his
naked sword in his right, he cast himself into the middle of the fire,
and escaped securely through it, before his clothes were burnt. The
barbarians, as soon as they saw him, retreated, and none of them durst
stay to expect him, or to engage with him, but, standing at a distance,
they slew him with their darts and arrows. When he was dead, the
barbarians departed, and Timandra took up his dead body, and, covering
and wrapping it up in her own robes, she buried it as decently and as
honorably as her circumstances would allow. It is said, that the famous
Lais, who was called the Corinthian, though she was a native of Hyccara,
a small town in Sicily, from whence she was brought a captive, was the
daughter of this Timandra. There are some who agree with this account of
Alcibiades’s death in all points, except that they impute the cause of
it neither to Pharnabazus, nor Lysander, nor the Lacedaemonians: but,
they say, he was keeping with him a young lady of a noble house, whom he
had debauched, and that her brothers, not being able to endure the
indignity, set fire by night to the house where he was living, and, as
he endeavored to save himself from the flames, slew him with their
darts, in the manner just related.
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Coriolanus
The patrician house of the Marcii in Rome produced many men of
distinction, and among the rest, Ancus Marcius, grandson to Numa by his
daughter, and king after Tullus Hostilius. Of the same family were also
Publius and Quintus Marcius, which two conveyed into the city the best
and most abundant supply of water they have at Rome. As likewise
Censorinus, who, having been twice chosen censor by the people,
afterwards himself induced them to make a law that nobody should bear
that office twice. But Caius Marcius, of whom I now write, being left an
orphan, and brought up under the widowhood of his mother, has shown us
by experience, that, although the early loss of a father may be attended
with other disadvantages, yet it can hinder none from being either
virtuous or eminent in the world, and that it is no obstacle to true
goodness and excellence; however bad men may be pleased to lay the blame
of their corruptions upon that misfortune and the neglect of them in
their minority. Nor is he less an evidence to the truth of their
opinion, who conceive that a generous and worthy nature without proper
discipline, like a rich soil without culture, is apt, with its better
fruits, to produce also much that is bad and faulty. While the force and
vigor of his soul, and a persevering constancy in all he undertook, led
him successfully into many noble achievements, yet, on the other side,
also, by indulging the vehemence of his passion, and through all
obstinate reluctance to yield or accommodate his humors and sentiments
to those of people about him, he rendered himself incapable of acting
and associating with others. Those who saw with admiration how proof his
nature was against all the softnesses of pleasure, the hardships of
service, and the allurements of gain, while allowing to that universal
firmness of his the respective names of temperance, fortitude, and
justice, yet, in the life of the citizen and the statesman, could not
choose but be disgusted at the severity and ruggedness of his
deportment, and with his overbearing, haughty, and imperious temper.
Education and study, and the favors of the muses, confer no greater
benefit on those that seek them, than these humanizing and civilizing
lessons, which teach our natural qualities to submit to the limitations
prescribed by reason, and to avoid the wildness of extremes.
Those were times at Rome in which that kind of worth was most
esteemed which displayed itself in military achievements; one evidence
of which we find in the Latin word for virtue, which is properly
equivalent to manly courage. As if valor and all virtue had been the
same thing, they used as the common term the name of the particular
excellence. But Marcius, having a more passionate inclination than any
of that age for feats of war, began at once, from his very childhood, to
handle arms; and feeling that adventitious implements and artificial
arms would effect little, and be of small use to such as have not their
native and natural weapons well fixed and prepared for service, he so
exercised and inured his body to all sorts of activity and encounter,
that, besides the lightness of a racer, he had a weight in close
seizures and wrestlings with an enemy, from which it was hard for any to
disengage himself; so that his competitors at home in displays of
bravery, loath to own themselves inferior in that respect, were wont to
ascribe their deficiencies to his strength of body, which they said no
resistance and no fatigue could exhaust.
The first time he went out to the wars, being yet a stripling, was
when Tarquinius Superbus, who had been king of Rome and was afterwards
expelled, after many unsuccessful attempts, now entered upon his last
effort, and proceeded to hazard all as it were upon a single throw. A
great number of the Latins and other people of Italy joined their
forces, and were marching with him toward the city, to procure his
restoration; not, however, so much out of a desire to serve and oblige
Tarquin, as to gratify their own fear and envy at the increase of the
Roman greatness, which they were anxious to check and reduce. The armies
met and engaged in a decisive battle, in the vicissitudes of which,
Marcius, while fighting bravely in the dictator’s presence, saw a Roman
soldier struck down at a little distance, and immediately stepped in and
stood before him, and slew his assailant. The general, after having
gained the victory, crowned him for this act, one of the first, with a
garland of oaken branches; it being the Roman custom thus to adorn those
who had saved the life of a citizen; whether that the law intended some
special honor to the oak, in memory of the Arcadians, a people the
oracle had made famous by the name of acorn-eaters; or whether the
reason of it was because they might easily, and in all places where they
fought, have plenty of oak for that purpose; or, finally, whether the
oaken wreath, being sacred to Jupiter, the guardian of the city, might,
therefore, be thought a propel ornament for one who preserved a citizen.
And the oak, in truth, is the tree which bears the most and the
prettiest fruit of any that grow wild, and is the strongest of all that
are under cultivation; its acorns were the principal diet of the first
mortals, and the honey found in it gave them drink. I may say, too, it
furnished fowl and other creatures as dainties, in producing mistletoe
for birdlime to ensnare them. In this battle, meantime, it is stated
that Castor and Pollux appeared, and, immediately after the battle, were
seen at Rome just by the fountain where their temple now stands, with
their horses foaming with sweat, and told the news of the victory to the
people in the Forum. The fifteenth of July, being the day of this
conquest, became consequently a solemn holiday sacred to the Twin
Brothers.
It may be observed in general, that when young men arrive early at
fame and repute, if they are of a nature but slightly touched with
emulation, this early attainment is apt to extinguish their thirst and
satiate their small appetite; whereas the first distinctions of more
solid and weighty characters do but stimulate and quicken them and take
them away, like a wind, in the pursuit of honor; they look upon these
marks and testimonies to their virtue not as a recompense received for
what they have already done, but as a pledge given by themselves of what
they will perform hereafter, ashamed now to forsake or underlive the
credit they have won, or, rather, not to exceed and obscure all that is
gone before by the luster of their following actions. Marcius, having a
spirit of this noble make, was ambitious always to surpass himself, and
did nothing, how extraordinary soever, but he thought he was bound to
outdo it at the next occasion; and ever desiring to give continual fresh
instances of his prowess he added one exploit to another, and heaped up
trophies upon trophies, so as to make it a matter of contest also among
his commanders, the later still vying with the earlier, which should pay
him the greatest honor and speak highest in his commendation. Of all the
numerous wars and conflicts in those days, there was not one from which
he returned without laurels and rewards. And, whereas others made glory
the end of their daring, the end of his glory was his mother’s gladness;
the delight she took to hear him praised and to see him crowned, and her
weeping for joy in his embraces, rendered him, in his own thoughts, the
most honored and most happy person in the world. Epaminondas is
similarly said to have acknowledged his feeling, that it was the
greatest felicity of his whole life that his father and mother survived
to hear of his successful generalship and his victory at Leuctra. And he
had the advantage, indeed, to have both his parents partake with him,
and enjoy the pleasure of his good fortune. But Marcius, believing
himself bound to pay his mother Volumnia all that gratitude and duty
which would have belonged to his father, had he also been alive, could
never satiate himself in his tenderness and respect to her. He took a
wife, also, at her request and wish, and continued, even after he had
children, to live still with his mother, without parting families.
The repute of his integrity and courage had, by this time, gained him
a considerable influence and authority in Rome, when the senate,
favoring the wealthier citizens, began to be at variance with the common
people, who made sad complaints of the rigorous and inhuman usage they
received from the money-lenders. For as many as were behind with them,
and had any sort of property, they stripped of all they had, by the way
of pledges and sales; and such as through former exactions were reduced
already to extreme indigence, and had nothing more to be deprived of,
these they led away in person and put their bodies under constraint,
notwithstanding the scars and wounds that they could show in attestation
of their public services in numerous campaigns; the last of which had
been against the Sabines, which they undertook upon a promise made by
their rich creditors that they would treat them with more gentleness for
the future, Marcus Valerius, the consul, having, by order from the
senate, engaged also for the performance of it. But when, after they had
fought courageously and beaten the enemy, there was, nevertheless, no
moderation or forbearance used, and the senate also professed to
remember nothing of that agreement, and sat without testifying the least
concern to see them dragged away like slaves and their goods seized upon
as formerly, there began now to be open disorders and dangerous meetings
in the city; and the enemy, also, aware of the popular confusion,
invaded and laid waste the country. And when the consuls now gave
notice, that all who were of an age to bear arms should make their
personal appearance, but found no one regard the summons, the members of
the government, then coming to consult what course should be taken, were
themselves again divided in opinion: some thought it most advisable to
comply a little in favor of the poor, by relaxing their overstrained
rights, and mitigating the extreme rigor of the law, while others
withstood this proposal; Marcius in particular, with more vehemence than
the rest, alleging that the business of money on either side was not the
main thing in question, urged that this disorderly proceeding was but
the first insolent step towards open revolt against the laws, which it
would become the wisdom of the government to check at the earliest
moment.
There had been frequent assemblies of the whole senate, within a
small compass of time, about this difficulty, but without any certain
issue; the poor commonalty, therefore, perceiving there was likely to be
no redress of their grievances, on a sudden collected in a body, and,
encouraging each other in their resolution, forsook the city with one
accord and seizing the hill which is now called the Holy Mount, sat down
by the river Anio, without committing any sort of violence or seditious
outrage, but merely exclaiming, as they went along, that they had this
long time past been, in fact, expelled and excluded from the city by the
cruelty of the rich; that Italy would everywhere afford them the benefit
of air and water and a place of burial, which was all they could expect
in the city, unless it were, perhaps, the privilege of being wounded and
killed in time of war for the defense of their creditors. The senate,
apprehending the consequences, sent the most moderate and popular men of
their own order to treat with them.
Menenius Agrippa, their chief spokesman, after much entreaty to the
people, and much plain speaking on behalf of the senate, concluded, at
length, with the celebrated fable. “It once happened,” he said, “that
all the other members of a man mutinied against the stomach, which they
accused as the only idle, uncontributing part in the whole body, while
the rest were put to hardships and the expense of much labor to supply
and minister to its appetites. The stomach, however, merely ridiculed
the silliness of the members, who appeared not to be aware that the
stomach certainly does receive the general nourishment, but only to
return it again, and redistribute it amongst the rest. Such is the
case,” he said, “ye citizens, between you and the senate. The counsels
and plans that are there duly digested, convey and secure to all of you,
your proper benefit and support.”
A reconciliation ensued, the senate acceding to the request of the
people for the annual election of five protectors for those in need of
succor, the same that are now called the tribunes of the people; and the
first two they pitched upon were Junius Brutus and Sicinnius Vellutus,
their leaders in the secession.
The city being thus united, the commons stood presently to their
arms, and followed their commanders to the war with great alacrity. As
for Marcius, though he was not a little vexed himself to see the
populace prevail so far and gain ground of the senators, and might
observe many other patricians have the same dislike of the late
concessions, he yet besought them not to yield at least to the common
people in the zeal and forwardness they now allowed for their country’s
service, but to prove that they were superior to them, not so much in
power and riches as in merit and worth.
The Romans were now at war with the Volscian nation, whose principal
city was Corioli; when, therefore, Cominius the consul had invested this
important place, the rest of the Volscians, fearing it would be taken,
mustered up whatever force they could from all parts, to relieve it,
designing to give the Romans battle before the city, and so attack them
on both sides. Cominius, to avoid this inconvenience, divided his army,
marching himself with one body to encounter the Volscians on their
approach from without, and leaving Titus Lartius, one of the bravest
Romans of his time, to command the other and continue the siege. Those
within Corioli, despising now the smallness of their number, made a
sally upon them, and prevailed at first, and pursued the Romans into
their trenches. Here it was that Marcius, flying out with a slender
company, and cutting those in pieces that first engaged him, obliged the
other assailants to slacken their speed; and then, with loud cries,
called upon the Romans to renew the battle. For he had, what Cato
thought a great point in a soldier, not only strength of hand and
stroke, but also a voice and look that of themselves were a terror to an
enemy. Divers of his own party now rallying and making up to him, the
enemies soon retreated; but Marcius, not content to see them draw off
and retire, pressed hard upon the rear, and drove them, as they fled
away in haste, to the very gates of their city; where, perceiving the
Romans to fall back from their pursuit, beaten off by the multitude of
darts poured in upon them from the walls, and that none of his followers
had the hardiness to think of falling in pellmell among the fugitives
and so entering a city full of enemies in arms, he, nevertheless, stood
and urged them to the attempt, crying out, that fortune had now set open
Corioli, not so much to shelter the vanquished, as to receive the
conquerors. Seconded by a few that were willing to venture with him, he
bore along through the crowd, made good his passage, and thrust himself
into the gate through the midst of them, nobody at first daring to
resist him. But when the citizens, on looking about, saw that a very
small number had entered, they now took courage, and came up and
attacked them. A combat ensued of the most extraordinary description, in
which Marcius, by strength of hand, and swiftness of foot, and daring of
soul, overpowering every one that he assailed, succeeded in driving the
enemy to seek refuge, for the most part, in the interior of the town,
while the remainder submitted, and threw down their arms; thus affording
Lartius abundant opportunity to bring in the rest of the Romans with
ease and safety.
Corioli being thus surprised and taken, the greater part of the
soldiers employed themselves in spoiling and pillaging it, while Marcius
indignantly reproached them, and exclaimed that it was a dishonorable
and unworthy thing, when the consul and their fellow-citizens had now
perhaps encountered the other Volscians, and were hazarding their lives
in battle, basely to misspend the time in running up and down for booty,
and, under a pretense of enriching themselves, keep out of danger. Few
paid him any attention, but, putting himself at the head of these, he
took the road by which the consul’s army had marched before him,
encouraging his companions, and beseeching them, as they went along, not
to give up, and praying often to the gods, too, that he might be so
happy as to arrive before the fight was over, and come seasonably up to
assist Cominius, and partake in the peril of the action.
It was customary with the Romans of that age, when they were moving
into battle array, and were on the point of taking up their bucklers,
and girding their coats about them, to make at the same time an
unwritten will, or verbal testament, and to name who should be their
heirs, in the hearing of three or four witnesses. In this precise
posture Marcius found them at his arrival, the enemy being advanced
within view.
They were not a little disturbed by his first appearance, seeing him
covered with blood and sweat, and attended with a small train; but when
he hastily made up to the consul with gladness in his looks, giving him
his hand, and recounting to him how the city had been taken, and when
they saw Cominius also embrace and salute him, every one took fresh
heart; those that were near enough hearing, and those that were at a
distance guessing, what had happened; and all cried out to be led to
battle. First, however, Marcius desired to know of him how the Volscians
had arrayed their army, and where they had placed their best men, and on
his answering that he took the troops of the Antiates in the center to
be their prime warriors, that would yield to none in bravery, “Let me
then demand and obtain of you,” said Marcius, “that we may be posted
against them.” The consul granted the request, with much admiration of
his gallantry. And when the conflict began by the soldiers darting at
each other, and Marcius sallied out before the rest, the Volscians
opposed to him were not able to make head against him; wherever he fell
in, he broke their ranks, and made a lane through them; but the parties
turning again, and enclosing him on each side with their weapons, the
consul, who observed the danger he was in, dispatched some of the
choicest men he had for his rescue. The conflict then growing warm and
sharp about Marcius, and many falling dead in a little space, the Romans
bore so hard upon the enemies, and pressed them with such violence, that
they forced them at length to abandon their ground, and to quit the
field. And, going now to prosecute the victory, they besought Marcius,
tired out with his toils, and faint and heavy through the loss of blood,
that he would retire to the camp. He replied, however, that weariness
was not for conquerors, and joined with them in the pursuit. The rest of
the Volscian army was in like manner defeated, great numbers killed, and
no less taken captive.
The day after, when Marcius, with the rest of the army, presented
themselves at the consul’s tent, Cominius rose, and having rendered all
due acknowledgment to the gods for the success of that enterprise,
turned next to Marcius, and first of all delivered the strongest
encomium upon his rare exploits, which he had partly been an eyewitness
of himself, in the late battle, and had partly learned from the
testimony of Lartius. And then he required him to choose a tenth part of
all the treasure and horses and captives that had fallen into their
hands, before any division should be made to others; besides which, he
made him the special present of a horse with trappings and ornaments, in
honor of his actions. The whole army applauded; Marcius, however,
stepped forth, and declaring his thankful acceptance of the horse, and
his gratification at the praises of his general, said, that all other
things, which he could only regard rather as mercenary advantages than
any significations of honor, he must waive, and should be content with
the ordinary proportion of such rewards. “I have only,” said he; “one
special grace to beg, and this I hope you will not deny me. There was a
certain hospitable friend of mine among the Volscians, a man of probity
and virtue, who is become a prisoner, and from former wealth and freedom
is now reduced to servitude. Among his many misfortunes let my
intercession redeem him from the one of being sold as a common slave.”
Such a refusal and such a request on the part of Marcius were followed
with yet louder acclamations; and he had many more admirers of this
generous superiority to avarice, than of the bravery he had shown in
battle. The very persons who conceived some envy and despite to see him
so specially honored, could not but acknowledge, that one who so nobly
could refuse reward, was beyond others worthy to receive it; and were
more charmed with that virtue which made him despise advantage, than
with any of those former actions that had gained him his title to it. It
is the hither accomplishment to use money well than to use arms; but not
to need it is more noble than to use it.
When the noise of approbation and applause ceased, Cominius,
resuming, said, “It is idle, fellow-soldiers, to force and obtrude those
other gifts of ours on one who is unwilling to accept them ; let us,
therefore, give him one of such a kind that he cannot well reject it;
let us pass a vote, I mean, that he shall hereafter be called
Coriolanus, unless you think that his performance at Corioli has itself
anticipated any such resolution.” Hence, therefore, he had his third
name of Coriolanus, making it all the plainer that Caius was a personal
proper name, and the second, or surname, Marcius, one common to his
house and family; the third being a subsequent addition which used to be
imposed either from some particular act or fortune, bodily
characteristic, or good quality of the bearer. Just as the Greeks, too,
gave additional names in old time, in some cases from some achievement,
Soter, for example, and Callinicus; or personal appearance, as Physcon
and Grypus; good qualities, Euergetes and Philadelphus; good fortune,
Eudaemon, the title of the second Battus. Several monarchs have also had
names given them in mockery, as Antigonus was called Doson, and Ptolemy,
Lathyrus. This sort of title was yet more common among the Romans. One
of the Metelli was surnamed Diadematus, because he walked about for a
long time with a bandage on his head, to conceal a scar; and another, of
the same family, got the name of Celer, from the rapidity he displayed
in giving a funeral entertainment of gladiators within a few days after
his father’s death, his speed and energy in doing which was thought
extraordinary. There are some, too, who even at this day take names from
certain casual incidents at their nativity; a child that is born when
his father is away from home is called Proculus; or Postumus, if after
his decease; and when twins come into the world, and one dies at the
birth, the survivor has the name of Vopiscus. From bodily peculiarities
they derive not only their Syllas and Nigers, but their Caeci and
Claudii; wisely endeavoring to accustom their people not to reckon
either the loss of sight, or any other bodily misfortune, as a matter of
disgrace to them, but to answer to such names without shame, as if they
were really their own. But this discussion better befits another place.
The war against the Volscians was no sooner at an end, than the
popular orators revived domestic troubles, and raised another sedition,
without any new cause of complaint or just grievance to proceed upon,
but merely turning the very mischiefs that unavoidably ensued from their
former contests into a pretext against the patricians. The greatest part
of their arable land had been left unsown and without tillage, and the
time of war allowing them no means or leisure to import provision from
other countries, there was an extreme scarcity. The movers of the people
then observing, that there was no corn to be bought, and that, if there
had been, they had no money to buy it, began to calumniate the wealthy
with false stories, and whisper it about, as if they, out of malice, had
purposely contrived the famine. Meanwhile, there came an embassy from
the Velitrani, proposing to deliver up their city to the Romans, and
desiring they would send some new inhabitants to people it, as a late
pestilential disease had swept away so many of the natives, that there
was hardly a tenth part remaining of their whole community. This
necessity of the Velitrani was considered by all more prudent people as
most opportune in the present state of affairs; since the dearth made it
needful to ease the city of its superfluous members, and they were in
hope also, at the same time, to dissipate the gathering sedition by
ridding themselves of the more violent and heated partisans, and
discharging, so to say, the elements of disease and disorder in the
state. The consuls, therefore, singled out such citizens to supply the
desolation at Velitrae, and gave notice to others, that they should be
ready to march against the Volscians, with the politic design of
preventing intestine broils by employment abroad, and in the hope, that
when rich as well as poor, plebeians and patricians, should be mingled
again in the same army and the same camp, and engage in one common
service for the public, it would mutually dispose them to reconciliation
and friendship.
But Sicinnius and Brutus, the popular orators, interposed, crying
out, that the consuls disguised the most cruel and barbarous action in
the world under that mild and plausible name of a colony, and were
simply precipitating so many poor citizens into a mere pit of
destruction, bidding them settle down in a country where the air was
charged with disease, and the ground covered with dead bodies, and
expose themselves to the evil influence of a strange and angered deity.
And then, as if it would not satisfy their hatred to destroy some by
hunger, and offer others to the mercy of a plague, they must proceed to
involve them also in a needless war of their own making, that no
calamity might be wanting to complete the punishment of the citizens for
refusing to submit to that of slavery to the rich.
By such addresses, the people were so possessed, that none of them
would appear upon the consular summons to be enlisted for the war; and
they showed entire aversion to the proposal for a new plantation; so
that the senate was at a loss what to say or do. But Marcius, who began
now to bear himself higher and to feel confidence in his past actions,
conscious, too, of the admiration of the best and greatest men of Rome,
openly took the lead in opposing the favorers of the people. The colony
was dispatched to Velitrae, those that were chosen by lot being
compelled to depart upon high penalties; and when they obstinately
persisted in refusing to enroll themselves for the Volscian service, he
mustered up his own clients, and as many others as could be wrought upon
by persuasion, and with these made an inroad into the territories of the
Antiates, where, finding a considerable quantity of corn, and collecting
much booty, both of cattle and prisoners, he reserved nothing for
himself in private, but returned safe to Rome, while those that ventured
out with him were seen laden with pillage, and driving their prey before
them. This sight filled those that had stayed at home with regret for
their perverseness, with envy at their fortunate fellow-citizens, and
with feelings of dislike to Marcius, and hostility to his growing
reputation and power, which might probably be used against the popular
interest.
Not long after he stood for the consulship; when, however, the people
began to relent and incline to favor him, being sensible what a shame it
would be to repulse and affront a man of his birth and merit, after he
had done them so many signal services. It was usual for those who stood
for offices among them to solicit and address themselves personally to
the citizens, presenting themselves in the forum with the toga on alone,
and no tunic under it; either to promote their supplications by the
humility of their dress, or that such as had received wounds might more
readily display those marks of their fortitude. Certainly, it was not
out of suspicion of bribery and corruption that they required all such
petitioners for their favor to appear ungirt and open, without any close
garment; as it was much later, and many ages after this, that buying and
selling crept in at their elections, and money became an ingredient in
the public suffrages; proceeding thence to attempt their tribunals, and
even attack their camps, till, by hiring the valiant, and enslaving iron
to silver, it grew master of the state, and turned their commonwealth
into a monarchy. For it was well and truly said that the first destroyer
of the liberties of a people is he who first gave them bounties and
largesses. At Rome the mischief seems to have stolen secretly in, and by
little and little, not being at once discerned and taken notice of. It
is not certainly known who the man was that did there first either bribe
the citizens, or corrupt the courts; whereas, in Athens, Anytus, the son
of Anthemion, is said to have been the first that gave money to the
judges, when on his trial, toward the latter end of the Peloponnesian
war, for letting the fort of Pylos fall into the hands of the enemy; in
a period while the pure and golden race of men were still in possession
of the Roman forum.
Marcius, therefore, as the fashion of candidates was showing the
scars and gashes that were still visible on his body, from the many
conflicts in which he had signalized himself during a service of
seventeen years together they were, so to say, put out of countenance at
this display of merit, and told one another that they ought in common
modesty to create him consul. But when the day of election was now come,
and Marcius appeared in the forum, with a pompous train of senators
attending him; and the patricians all manifested greater concern, and
seemed to be exerting greater efforts, than they had ever done before on
the like occasion, the commons then fell off again from the kindness
they had conceived for him, and in the place of their late benevolence,
began to feel something of indignation and envy; passions assisted by
the fear they entertained, that if a man of such aristocratic temper,
and so influential among the patricians, should be invested with the
power which that office would give him, he might employ it to deprive
the people of all that liberty which was yet left them. In conclusion,
they rejected Marcius. Two other names were announced, to the great
mortification of the senators, who felt as if the indignity reflected
rather upon themselves than on Marcius. He, for his part, could not bear
the affront with any patience. He had always indulged his temper, and
had regarded the proud and contentious element of human nature as a sort
of nobleness and magnanimity; reason and discipline had not imbued him
with that solidity and equanimity which enters so largely into the
virtues of the statesman. He had never learned how essential it is for
any one who undertakes public business, and desires to deal with
mankind, to avoid above all things that self-will, which, as Plato says,
belongs to the family of solitude; and to pursue, above all things, that
capacity so generally ridiculed, of submission to ill treatment.
Marcius, straightforward and direct, and possessed with the idea that to
vanquish and overbear all apposition is the true part of bravery, and
never imagining that it was the weakness and womanishness of his nature
that broke out, so to say, in these ulcerations of anger, retired, full
of fury and bitterness against the people. The young patricians, too,
all that were proudest and most conscious of their noble birth, had
always been devoted to his interest, and, adhering to him now, with a
fidelity that did him no good, aggravated his resentment with the
expression of their indignation and condolence. He had been their
captain, and their willing instructor in the arts of war, when out upon
expeditions, and their model in that true emulation and love of
excellence which makes men extol, without envy or jealousy, each other’s
brave achievements.
In the midst of these distempers, a large quantity of corn reached
Rome, a great part bought up in Italy, but an equal amount sent as a
present from Syracuse, from Gelo, then reigning there. Many began now to
hope well of their affairs, supposing the city, by this means, would be
delivered at once, both of its want and discord. A council, therefore,
being presently held, the people came flocking about the senate-house,
eagerly awaiting the issue of that deliberation, expecting that the
market prices would now be less cruel, and that what had come as a gift
would be distributed as such. There were some within who so advised the
senate; but Marcius, standing up, sharply inveighed against those who
spoke in favor of the multitude, calling them flatterers of the rabble
traitors to the nobility, and alleging, that, by such gratifications,
they did but cherish those ill seeds of boldness and petulance that had
been sown among the people, to their own prejudice, which they should
have done well to observe and stifle at their first appearance, and not
have suffered the plebeians to grow so strong, by granting them
magistrates of such authority as the tribunes. They were, indeed, even
now formidable to the state, since everything they desired was granted
them; no constraint was put on their will; they refused obedience to the
consuls, and, overthrowing all law and magistracy, gave the title of
magistrate to their private factious leaders. “When things are come to
such a pass, for us to sit here and decree largesses and bounties for
them, like those Greeks where the populace is supreme and absolute, what
would it be else,” said he, “but to take their disobedience into pay,
and maintain it for the common ruin of us all? They certainly cannot
look upon these liberalities as a reward of public service, which they
know they have so often deserted; nor yet of those secessions, by which
they openly renounced their country; much less of the calumnies and
slanders they have been always so ready to entertain against the senate;
but will rather conclude that a bounty which seems to have no other
visible cause or reason, must needs be the effect of our fear and
flattery; and will, therefore, set no limit to their disobedience, nor
ever cease from disturbances and sedition. Concession is mere madness;
if we have any wisdom and resolution at all, we shall, on the contrary,
never rest till we have recovered from them that tribunician power they
have extorted from us; as being a plain subversion of the consulship,
and a perpetual ground of separation in our city, that is no longer one,
as heretofore, but has in this received such a wound and rupture, as is
never likely to close and unite again, or suffer us to be of one mind,
and to give over inflaming our distempers, and being a torment to each
other.”
Marcius, with much more to this purpose, succeeded, to an
extraordinary degree, in inspiring the younger men with the same furious
sentiments, and had almost all the wealthy on his side, who cried him up
as the only person their city had, superior alike to force and flattery;
some of the older men, however, opposed him, suspecting the
consequences. As, indeed, there came no good of it; for the tribunes,
who were present, perceiving how the proposal of Marcius took, ran out
into the crowd with exclamations, calling on the plebeians to stand
together, and come in to their assistance. The assembly met, and soon
became tumultuous. The sum of what Marcius had spoken, having been
reported to the people, excited them to such fury, that they were ready
to break in upon the senate. The tribunes prevented this, by laying all
the blame on Coriolanus, whom, therefore, they cited by their messengers
to come before them, and defend himself. And when he contemptuously
repulsed the officers who brought him the summons, they came themselves,
with the Aediles, or overseers of the market, proposing to carry him
away by force, and, accordingly, began to lay hold on his person. The
patricians, however, coming to his rescue, not only thrust off the
tribunes, but also beat the Aediles, that were their seconds in the
quarrel; night, approaching, put an end to the contest. But, as soon as
it was day, the consuls, observing the people to be highly exasperated,
and that they ran from all quarters and gathered in the forum, were
afraid for the whole city, so that, convening the senate afresh, they
desired them to advise how they might best compose and pacify the
incensed multitude by equitable language and indulgent decrees; since,
if they wisely considered the state of things, they would find that it
was no time to stand upon terms of honor, and a mere point of glory;
such a critical conjuncture called for gentle methods, and for temperate
and humane counsels. The majority, therefore, of the senators giving
way, the consuls proceeded to pacify the people in the best manner they
were able, answering gently to such imputations and charges as had been
cast upon the senate, and using much tenderness and moderation in the
admonitions and reproof they gave them. On the point of the price of
provisions, they said, there should be no difference at all between
them. When a great part of the commonalty was grown cool, and it
appeared from their orderly and peaceful behavior that they had been
very much appeased by what they had heard, the tribunes, standing up,
declared, in the name of the people, that since the senate was pleased
to act soberly and do them reason, they, likewise, should be ready to
yield in all that was fair and equitable on their side; they must
insist, however, that Marcius should give in his answer to the several
charges as follows: first, could he deny that he instigated the senate
to overthrow the government and annul the privileges of the people? and,
in the next place, when called to account for it, did he not disobey
their summons? and, lastly, by the blows and other public affronts to
the Aediles, had he not done all he could to commence a civil war?
These articles were brought in against him, with a design either to
humble Marcius, and show his submission if, contrary to his nature, he
should now court and sue the people; or, if he should follow his natural
disposition, which they rather expected from their judgment of his
character, then that he might thus make the breach final between himself
and the people.
He came, therefore, as it were, to make his apology, and clear
himself; in which belief the people kept silence, and gave him a quiet
hearing. But when, instead of the submissive and deprecatory language
expected from him, he began to use not only an offensive kind of
freedom, seeming rather to accuse than apologize, but, as well by the
tone of his voice as the air of his countenance, displayed a security
that was not far from disdain and contempt of them, the whole multitude
then became angry, and gave evident signs of impatience and disgust; and
Sicinnius, the most violent of the tribunes, after a little private
conference with his colleagues, proceeded solemnly to pronounce before
them all, that Marcius was condemned to die by the tribunes of the
people, and bid the Aediles take him to the Tarpeian rock, and without
delay throw him headlong from the precipice. When they, however, in
compliance with the order, came to seize upon his body, many, even of
the plebeian party, felt it to be a horrible and extravagant act; the
patricians, meantime, wholly beside themselves with distress and horror,
hurried up with cries to the rescue; and while some made actual use of
their hands to hinder the arrest, and, surrounding Marcius, got him in
among them, others, as in so great a tumult no good could be done by
words, stretched out theirs, beseeching the multitude that they would
not proceed to such furious extremities; and at length, the friends and
acquaintance of the tribunes, wisely perceiving how impossible it would
be to carry off Marcius to punishment without much bloodshed and
slaughter of the nobility, persuaded them to forbear everything unusual
and odious; not to dispatch him by any sudden violence, or without
regular process, but refer the cause to the general suffrage of the
people. Sicinnius then, after a little pause, turning to the patricians,
demanded what their meaning was, thus forcibly to rescue Marcius out of
the people’s hands, as they were going to punish him; when it was
replied by them, on the other side, and the question put, “Rather, how
came it into your minds, and what is it you design, thus to drag one of
the worthiest men of Rome, without trial, to a barbarous and illegal
execution?” “Very well,” said Sicinnius, “you shall have no ground in
this respect for quarrel or complaint against the people. The people
grant your request, and your partisan shall be tried. We appoint you,
Marcius,” directing his speech to him, “the third market-day ensuing, to
appear and defend yourself, and to try if you can satisfy the Roman
citizens of your innocence, who will then judge your case by vote.” The
patricians were content with such a truce and respite for that time, and
gladly returned home, having for the present brought off Marcius in
safety.
During the interval before the appointed time (for the Romans hold
their sessions every ninth day, which from that cause are called
nundinae in Latin), a war fell out with the Antiates, likely to be of
some continuance, which gave them hope they might one way or other elude
the judgment. The people, they presumed, would become tractable, and
their indignation lessen and languish by degrees in so long a space, if
occupation and war did not wholly put it out of their mind. But when,
contrary to expectation, they made a speedy agreement with the people of
Antium, and the army came back to Rome, the patricians were again in
great perplexity, and had frequent meetings to consider how things might
be arranged, without either abandoning Marcius, or yet giving occasion
to the popular orators to create new disorders. Appius Claudius, whom
they counted among the senators most averse to the popular interest,
made a solemn declaration, and told them beforehand, that the senate
would utterly destroy itself and betray the government, if they should
once suffer the people to assume the authority of pronouncing sentence
upon any of the patricians; but the oldest senators and most favorable
to the people maintained, on the other side, that the people would not
be so harsh and severe upon them, as some were pleased to imagine, but
rather become more gentle and humane upon the concession of that power,
since it was not contempt of the senate, but the impression of being
contemned by it, which made them pretend to such a prerogative. Let that
be once allowed them as a mark of respect and kind feeling, and the mere
possession of this power of voting would at once dispossess them of
their animosity.
When, therefore, Marcius saw that the senate was in pain and suspense
upon his account, divided, as it were, betwixt their kindness for him
and their apprehensions from the people, he desired to know of the
tribunes what the crimes were they intended to charge him with, and what
the heads of the indictment they would oblige him to plead to before the
people; and being told by them that he was to be impeached for
attempting usurpation, and that they would prove him guilty of designing
to establish arbitrary government, stepping forth upon this, “Let me go
then,” he said, “to clear myself from that imputation before an assembly
of them; I freely offer myself to any sort of trial, nor do I refuse any
kind of punishment whatsoever; only,” he continued, “let what you now
mention be really made my accusation, and do not you play false with the
senate.” On their consenting to these terms, he came to his trial. But
when the people met together, the tribunes, contrary to all former
practice, extorted first, that votes should be taken, not by centuries,
but tribes; a change, by which the indigent and factious rabble, that
had no respect for honesty and justice, would be sure to carry it
against those who were rich and well known, and accustomed to serve the
state in war. In the next place, whereas they had engaged to prosecute
Marcius upon no other head but that of tyranny, which could never be
made out against him, they relinquished this plea, and urged instead,
his language in the senate against an abatement of the price of corn,
and for the overthrow of the tribunician power; adding further, as a new
impeachment, the distribution that was made by him of the spoil and
booty he had taken from the Antiates, when he overran their country,
which he had divided among those that had followed him, whereas it ought
rather to have been brought into the public treasury; which last
accusation did, they say, more discompose Marcius than all the rest, as
he had not anticipated he should ever be questioned on that subject,
and, therefore, was less provided with any satisfactory answer to it on
the sudden. And when, by way of excuse, he began to magnify the merits
of those who had been partakers with him in the action, those that had
stayed at home, being more numerous than the other, interrupted him with
outcries. In conclusion, when they came to vote, a majority of three
tribes condemned him; the penalty being perpetual banishment. The
sentence of his condemnation being pronounced, the people went away with
greater triumph and exultation than they had ever shown for any victory
over enemies; while the senate was in grief and deep dejection,
repenting now and vexed to the soul that they had not done and suffered
all things rather than give way to the insolence of the people, and
permit them to assume and abuse so great an authority. There was no need
then to look at men’s dresses, or other marks of distinction, to know
one from another: any one who was glad was, beyond all doubt, a
plebeian; any one who looked sorrowful, a patrician.
Marcius alone, himself, was neither stunned nor humiliated. In mien,
carriage, and countenance, he bore the appearance of entire composure,
and while all his friends were full of distress, seemed the only man
that was not touched with his misfortune. Not that either reflection
taught him, or gentleness of temper made it natural for him, to submit:
he was wholly possessed, on the contrary, with a profound and
deep-seated fury, which passes with many for no pain at all. And pain,
it is true, transmuted, so to say, by its own fiery heat into anger,
loses every appearance of depression and feebleness; the angry man makes
a show of energy, as the man in a high fever does of natural heat,
while, in fact, all this action of the soul is but mere diseased
palpitation, distention, and inflammation. That such was his distempered
state appeared presently plainly enough in his actions. On his return
home, after saluting his mother and his wife, who were all in tears and
full of loud lamentations, and exhorting them to moderate the sense they
had of his calamity, he proceeded at once to the city gates, whither all
the nobility came to attend him; and so, not so much as taking anything
with him, or making any request to the company, he departed from them,
having only three or four clients with him. He continued solitary for a
few days in a place in the country, distracted with a variety of
counsels, such as rage and indignation suggested to him; and proposing
to himself no honorable or useful end, but only how he might best
satisfy his revenge on the Romans, he resolved at length to raise up a
heavy war against them from their nearest neighbors. He determined,
first to make trial of the Volscians, whom he knew to be still vigorous
and flourishing, both in men and treasure, and he imagined their force
and power was not so much abated, as their spite and auger increased, by
the late overthrows they had received from the Romans.
There was a man of Antium, called Tullus Aufidius, who, for his
wealth and bravery and the splendor of his family, had the respect and
privilege of a king among the Volscians, but whom Marcius knew to have a
particular hostility to himself, above all other Romans. Frequent
menaces and challenges had passed in battle between them, and those
exchanges of defiance to which their hot and eager emulation is apt to
prompt young soldiers had added private animosity to their national
feelings of opposition. Yet for all this, considering Tullus to have a
certain generosity of temper, and knowing that no Volscian, so much as
he, desired an occasion to requite upon the Romans the evils they had
done, he did what much confirms the saying, that
Hard and unequal is with wrath the strife,
Which makes us buy its pleasure with our life.
Putting on such a dress as would make him appear to any whom he might
meet most unlike what he really was, thus, like Ulysses, —
The town he entered of his mortal foes.
His arrival at Antium was about evening, and though several met him
in the streets, yet he passed along without being known to any, and went
directly to the house of Tullus, and, entering undiscovered, went up to
the fire-hearth, and seated himself there without speaking a word,
covering up his head. Those of the family could not but wonder, and yet
they were afraid either to raise or question him, for there was a
certain air of majesty both in his posture and silence, but they
recounted to Tullus, being then at supper, the strangeness of this
accident. He immediately rose from table and came in, and asked him who
he was, and for what business he came thither; and then Marcius,
unmuffling himself, and pausing awhile, “If,” said he, “you cannot yet
call me to mind, Tullus, or do not believe your eyes concerning me, I
must of necessity be my own accuser. I am Caius Marcius, the author of
so much mischief to the Volscians; of which, were I seeking to deny it,
the surname of Coriolanus I now bear would be a sufficient evidence
against me. The one recompense I received for all the hardships and
perils I have gone through, was the title that proclaims my enmity to
your nation, and this is the only thing which is still left me. Of all
other advantages, I have been stripped and deprived by the envy and
outrage of the Roman people, and the cowardice and treachery of the
magistrates and those of my own order. I am driven out as an exile, and
become an humble suppliant at your hearth, not so much for safety and
protection (should I have come hither, had I been afraid to die?), as to
seek vengeance against those that expelled me; which, methinks, I have
already obtained, by putting myself into your hands. If, therefore, you
have really a mind to attack your enemies, come then, make use of that
affliction you see me in to assist the enterprise, and convert my
personal infelicity into a common blessing to the Volscians; as, indeed,
I am likely to be more serviceable in fighting for than against you,
with the advantage, which I now possess, of knowing all the secrets of
the enemy that I am attacking. But if you decline to make any further
attempts, I am neither desirous to live myself, nor will it be well in
you to preserve a person who has been your rival and adversary of old,
and now, when he offers you his service, appears unprofitable and
useless to you.”
Tullus, on hearing this, was extremely rejoiced, and giving him his
right hand, exclaimed, “Rise, Marcius, and be of good courage; it is a
great happiness you bring to Antium, in the present you make us of
yourself; expect everything that is good from the Volscians.” He then
proceeded to feast and entertain him with every display of kindness, and
for several days after they were in close deliberation together on the
prospects of a war.
While this design was forming, there were great troubles and
commotions at Rome, from the animosity of the senators against the
people, heightened just now by the late condemnation of Marcius. Besides
that, their soothsayers and priests, and even private persons, reported
signs and prodigies not to be neglected; one of which is stated to have
occurred as follows: Titus Latinus, a man of ordinary condition, but of
a quiet and virtuous character, free from all superstitious fancies, and
yet more from vanity and exaggeration, had an apparition in his sleep,
as if Jupiter came and bade him tell the senate, that it was with a bad
and unacceptable dancer that they had headed his procession. Having
beheld the vision, he said, he did not much attend to it at the first
appearance; but after he had seen and slighted it a second and third
time, he had lost a hopeful son, and was himself struck with palsy. He
was brought into the senate on a litter to tell this, and the story
goes, that he had no sooner delivered his message there, but he at once
felt his strength return, and got upon his legs, and went home alone,
without need of any support. The senators, in wonder and surprise, made
a diligent search into the matter. That which his dream alluded to was
this: some citizen had, for some heinous offense, given up a servant of
his to the rest of his fellows, with charge to whip him first through
the market, and then to kill him; and while they were executing this
command, and scourging the wretch, who screwed and turned himself into
all manner of shapes and unseemly motions, through the pain he was in,
the solemn procession in honor of Jupiter chanced to follow at their
heels. Several of the attendants on which were, indeed, scandalized at
the sight, yet no one of them interfered, or acted further in the matter
than merely to utter some common reproaches and execrations on a master
who inflicted so cruel a punishment. For the Romans treated their slaves
with great humanity in these times, when, working and laboring
themselves, and living together among them, they naturally were more
gentle and familiar with them. It was one of the severest punishments
for a slave who had committed a fault, to have to take the piece of wood
which supports the pole of a wagon, and carry it about through the
neighborhood; a slave who had once undergone the shame of this, and been
thus seen by the household and the neighbors, had no longer any trust or
credit among them, and had the name of furcifer; furca being the Latin
word for a prop, or support.
When, therefore, Latinus had related his dream, and the senators were
considering who this disagreeable and ungainly dancer could be, some of
the company, having been struck with the strangeness of the punishment,
called to mind and mentioned the miserable slave who was lashed through
the streets and afterward put to death. The priests, when consulted,
confirmed the conjecture; the master was punished; and orders given for
a new celebration of the procession and the spectacles in honor of the
god. Numa, in other respects also a wise arranger of religious offices,
would seem to have been especially judicious in his direction, with a
view to the attentiveness of the people, that, when the magistrates or
priests performed any divine worship, a herald should go before, and
proclaim with a loud voice, Hoc age, Do this you are about, and so warn
them to mind whatever sacred action they were engaged in, and not suffer
any business or worldly avocation to disturb and interrupt it; most of
the things which men do of this kind, being in a manner forced from
them, and effected by constraint. It is usual with the Romans to
recommence their sacrifices and processions and spectacles, not only
upon such a cause as this, but for any slighter reason. If but one of
the horses which drew the chariots called Tensae, upon which the images
of their gods were placed, happened to fail and falter, or if the driver
took hold of the reins with his left hand, they would decree that the
whole operation should commence anew; and, in latter ages, one and the
same sacrifice was performed thirty times over, because of the
occurrence of some defect or mistake or accident in the service. Such
was the Roman reverence and caution in religious matters.
Marcius and Tullus were now secretly discoursing of their project
with the chief men of Antium, advising them to invade the Romans while
they were at variance among themselves. And when shame appeared to
hinder them from embracing the motion, as they had sworn to a truce and
cessation of arms for the space of two years, the Romans themselves soon
furnished them with a pretense, by making proclamation, out of some
jealousy or slanderous report, in the midst of the spectacles, that all
the Volscians who had come to see them should depart the city before
sunset. Some affirm that this was a contrivance of Marcius, who sent a
man privately to the consuls, falsely to accuse the Volscians of
intending to fall upon the Romans during the games, and to set the city
on fire. This public affront roused and inflamed their hostility to the
Romans, and Tullus, perceiving it, made his advantage of it, aggravating
the fact, and working on their indignation, till he persuaded them, at
last, to dispatch ambassadors to Rome, requiring the Romans to restore
that part of their country and those towns which they had taken from the
Volscians in the late war. When the Romans heard the message, they
indignantly replied, that the Volscians were the first that took up
arms, but the Romans would be the last to lay them down. This answer
being brought back, Tullus called a general assembly of the Volscians;
and the vote passing for a war, he then proposed that they should call
in Marcius, laying aside the remembrance of former grudges, and assuring
themselves that the services they should now receive from him as a
friend and associate, would abundantly outweigh any harm or damage he
had done them when he was their enemy. Marcius was accordingly summoned,
and having made his entrance, and spoken to the people, won their good
opinion of his capacity, his skill, counsel, and boldness, not less by
his present words than by his past actions. They joined him in
commission with Tullus, to have full power as general of their forces in
all that related to the war. And he, fearing lest the time that would be
requisite to bring all the Volscians together in full preparation might
be so long as to lose him the opportunity of action, left order with the
chief persons and magistrates of the city to provide other things, while
he himself, prevailing upon the most forward to assemble and march out
with him as volunteers without staying to be enrolled, made a sudden
inroad into the Roman confines, when nobody expected him, and possessed
himself of so much booty, that the Volscians found they had more than
they could either carry away or use in the camp. The abundance of
provision which he gained, and the waste and havoc of the country which
he made, were, however, of themselves and in his account, the smallest
results of that invasion; the great mischief he intended, and his
special object in all, was to increase at Rome the suspicions
entertained of the patricians, and to make them upon worse terms with
the people. With this view, while spoiling all the fields and destroying
the property of other men, he took special care to preserve their farms
and lands untouched, and would not allow his soldiers to ravage there,
or seize upon anything which belonged to them. From hence their
invectives and quarrels against one another broke out afresh, and rose
to a greater height than ever; the senators reproaching those of the
commonalty with their late injustice to Marcius; while the plebeians, on
their side, did not hesitate to accuse them of having, out of spite and
revenge, solicited him to this enterprise, and thus, when others were
involved in the miseries of a war by their means, they sat like
unconcerned spectators, as being furnished with a guardian and protector
abroad of their wealth and fortunes, in the very person of the public
enemy. After this incursion and exploit, which was of great advantage to
the Volscians, as they learned by it to grow more hardy and to contemn
their enemy, Marcius drew them off, and returned in safety.
But when the whole strength of the Volscians was brought together
into the field, with great expedition and alacrity, it appeared so
considerable a body, that they agreed to leave part in garrison, for the
security of their towns, and with the other part to march against the
Romans. Marcius now desired Tullus to choose which of the two charges
would be most agreeable to him. Tullus answered, that since he knew
Marcius to be equally valiant with himself, and far more fortunate, he
would have him take the command of those that were going out to the war,
while he made it his care to defend their cities at home, and provide
all conveniences for the army abroad. Marcius thus reinforced, and much
stronger than before, moved first towards the city called Circaeum, a
Roman colony. He received its surrender, and did the inhabitants no
injury; passing thence, he entered and laid waste the country of the
Latins, where he expected the Romans would meet him, as the Latins were
their confederates and allies, and had often sent to demand succors from
them. The people, however, on their part, showing little inclination for
the service, and the consuls themselves being unwilling to run the
hazard of a battle, when the time of their office was almost ready to
expire, they dismissed the Latin ambassadors without any effect; so that
Marcius, finding no army to oppose him, marched up to their cities, and,
having taken by force Toleria, Lavici, Peda, and Bola, all of which
offered resistance, not only plundered their houses, but made a prey
likewise of their persons. Meantime, he showed particular regard for all
such as came over to his party, and, for fear they might sustain any
damage against his will, encamped at the greatest distance he could, and
wholly abstained from the lands of their property.
After, however, that he had made himself master of Bola, a town not
above ten miles from Rome, where he found great treasure, and put almost
all the adults to the sword; and when, on this, the other Volscians that
were ordered to stay behind and protect their cities, hearing of his
achievements and success, had not patience to remain any longer at home,
but came hastening in their arms to Marcius, saying that he alone was
their general and the sole commander they would own; with all this, his
name and renown spread throughout all Italy, and universal wonder
prevailed at the sudden and mighty revolution in the fortunes of two
nations which the loss and the accession of a single man had effected.
All at Rome was in great disorder; they were utterly averse from
fighting, and spent their whole time in cabals and disputes and
reproaches against each other; until news was brought that the enemy had
laid close siege to Lavinium, where were the images and sacred things of
their tutelar gods, and from whence they derived the origin of their
nation, that being the first city which Aeneas built in Italy. These
tidings produced a change as universal as it was extraordinary in the
thoughts inclinations of the people, but occasioned a yet stranger
revulsion of feeling among the patricians. The people now were for
repealing the sentence against Marcius, an calling him back into the
city; whereas the senate, being assembled to preconsider the decree,
opposed and finally rejected the proposal, either out of the mere humor
of contradicting and withstanding the people in whatever they should
desire, or because they were unwilling, perhaps, that he should owe his
restoration to their kindness or having now conceived a displeasure
against Marcius himself, who was bringing distress upon all alike,
though he had not been ill treated by all, and was become, declared
enemy to his whole country, though he knew well enough that the
principal and all the better men condoled with him, and suffered in his
injuries.
This resolution of theirs being made public, the people could proceed
no further, having no authority to pass anything by suffrage, and enact
it for a law, without a previous decree from the senate. When Marcius
heard of this, he was more exasperated than ever, and, quitting the
seige of Lavinium, marched furiously towards Rome, and encamped at a
place called the Cluilian ditches, about five miles from the city. The
nearness of his approach did, indeed, create much terror and
disturbance, yet it also ended their dissensions for the present; as
nobody now, whether consul or senator, durst any longer contradict the
people in their design of recalling Marcius but, seeing their women
running affrighted up and down the streets, and the old men at prayer in
every temple with tears and supplications, and that, in short, there was
a general absence among them both of courage and wisdom to provide for
their own safety, they came at last to be all of one mind, that the
people had been in the right to propose as they did a reconciliation
with Marcius, and that the senate was guilty of a fatal error to begin a
quarrel with him when it was a time to forget offenses, and they should
have studied rather to appease him. It was, therefore, unanimously
agreed by all parties, that ambassadors should be dispatched, offering
him return to his country, and desiring he would free them from the
terrors and distresses of the war. The persons sent by the senate with
this message were chosen out of his kindred and acquaintance, who
naturally expected a very kind reception at their first interview, upon
the score of that relation and their old familiarity and friendship with
him; in which, however, they were much mistaken. Being led through the
enemy’s camp, they found him sitting in state amidst the chief men of
the Volscians, looking insupportably proud and arrogant. He bade them
declare the cause of their coming, which they did in the most gentle and
tender terms, and with a behavior suitable to their language. When they
had made an end of speaking, he returned them a sharp answer, full of
bitterness and angry resentment, as to what concerned himself, and the
ill usage he had received from them; but as general of the Volscians, he
demanded restitution of the cities and the lands which had been seized
upon during the late war, and that the same rights and franchises should
be granted them at Rome, which had been before accorded to the Latins;
since there could be no assurance that a peace would be firm and
lasting, without fair and just conditions on both sides. He allowed them
thirty days to consider and resolve.
The ambassadors being departed, he withdrew his forces out of the
Roman territory. This, those of the Volscians who had long envied his
reputation, and could not endure to see the influence he had with the
people laid hold of, as the first matter of complaint against him. Among
them was also Tullus himself, not for any wrong done him personally by
Marcius, but through the weakness incident to human nature. He could not
help feeling mortified to find his own glory thus totally obscured, and
himself overlooked and neglected now by the Volscians, who had so great
an opinion of their new leader that he alone was all to them, while
other captains, they thought, should be content with that share of
power, which he might think fit to accord. From hence the first seeds of
complaint and accusation were scattered about in secret, and the
malcontents met and heightened each other’s indignation, saying, that to
retreat as he did was in effect to betray and deliver up, though not
their cities and their arms, yet what was as bad, the critical times and
opportunities for action, on which depend the preservation or the loss
of everything else; since in less than thirty days’ space, for which he
had given a respite from the war, there might happen the greatest
changes in the world. Yet Marcius spent not any part of the time idly,
but attacked the confederates of the enemy ravaged their land, and took
from them seven great and populous cities in that interval. The Romans,
in the meanwhile, durst not venture out to their relief; but were
utterly fearful, and showed no more disposition or capacity for action,
than if their bodies had been struck with a palsy, and become destitute
of sense and motion. But when the thirty days were expired, and Marcius
appeared again with his whole army, they sent another embassy— to
beseech him that he would moderate his displeasure, and would withdraw
the Volscian army, and then make any proposals he thought best for both
parties; the Romans would make no concessions to menaces, but if it were
his opinion that the Volscians ought to have any favor shown them, upon
laying down their arms they might obtain all they could in reason
desire.
The reply of Marcius was, that he should make no answer to this as
general of the Volscians, but, in the quality still of a Roman citizen,
he would advise and exhort them, as the case stood, not to carry it so
high, but think rather of just compliance, and return to him, before
three days were at an end, with a ratification of his previous demands;
otherwise, they must understand that they could not have any further
freedom of passing through his camp upon idle errands.
When the ambassadors were come back, and had acquainted the senate
with the answer, seeing the whole state now threatened as it were by a
tempest, and the waves ready to overwhelm them, they were forced, as we
say in extreme perils, to let down the sacred anchor. A decree was made,
that the whole order of their priests, those who initiated in the
mysteries or had the custody of them, and those who, according to the
ancient practice of the country, divined from birds, should all and
every one of them go in full procession to Marcius with their pontifical
array, and the dress and habit which they respectively used in their
several functions, and should urge him, as before, to withdraw his
forces, and then treat with his countrymen in favor of the Volscians. He
consented so far, indeed, as to give the deputation an admittance into
his camp, but granted nothing at all, nor so much as expressed himself
more mildly; but, without capitulating or receding, bade them once for
all choose whether they would yield or fight, since the old terms were
the only terms of peace. When this solemn application proved
ineffectual, the priests, too, returning unsuccessful, they determined
to sit still within the city, and keep watch about their walls,
intending only to repulse the enemy, should he offer to attack them, and
placing their hopes chiefly in time and in extraordinary accidents of
fortune; as to themselves, they felt incapable of doing any thing for
their own deliverance; mere confusion and terror and ill-boding reports
possessed the whole city; till at last a thing happened not unlike what
we so often find represented, without, however, being accepted as true
by people in general, in Homer. On some great and unusual occasion we
find him say: —
But him the blue-eyed goddess did inspire;
and elsewhere: —
But some immortal turned my mind away,
To think what others of the deed would say;
and again: —
Were ‘t his own thought or were ‘t a god’s command.
People are apt, in such passages, to censure and disregard the poet,
as if, by the introduction of mere impossibilities and idle fictions, he
were denying the action of a man’s own deliberate thought and free
choice; which is not, in the least, the case in Homer’s representation,
where the ordinary, probable, and habitual conclusions that common
reason leads to are continually ascribed to our own direct agency. He
certainly says frequently enough: —
But I consulted with my own great soul;
or, as in another passage: —
He spoke. Achilles, with quick pain possessed,
Revolved two purposes in his strong breast;
and in a third: —
— Yet never to her wishes won
The just mind of the brave Bellerophon.
But where the act is something out of the way and extraordinary, and
seems in a manner to demand some impulse of divine possession and sudden
inspiration to account for it here he does introduce divine agency, not
to destroy, but to prompt the human will; not to create in us another
agency, but offering images to stimulate our own; images that in no sort
or kind make our action involuntary, but give occasion rather to
spontaneous action, aided and sustained by feelings of confidence and
hope. For either we must totally dismiss and exclude divine influences
from every kind of causality and origination in what we do, or else what
other way can we conceive in which divine aid and cooperation can act?
Certainly we cannot suppose that the divine beings actually and
literally turn our bodies and direct our hands and our feet this way or
that, to do what is right: it is obvious that they must actuate the
practical and elective element of our nature, by certain initial
occasions, by images presented to the imagination, and thoughts
suggested to the mind, such either as to excite it to, or avert and
withhold it from, any particular course.
In the perplexity which I have described, the Roman women went, some
to other temples, but the greater part, and the ladies of highest rank,
to the altar of Jupiter Capitolinus. Among these suppliants was Valeria,
sister to the great Poplicola, who did the Romans eminent service both
in peace and war. Poplicola himself was now deceased, as is told in the
history of his life; but Valeria lived still, and enjoyed great respect
and honor at Rome, her life and conduct no way disparaging her birth.
She, suddenly seized with the sort of instinct or emotion of mind which
I have described, and happily lighting, not without divine guidance, on
the right expedient, both rose herself, and bade the others rise, and
went directly with them to the house of Volumnia, the mother of Marcius.
And coming in and finding her sitting with her daughter-in-law, and with
her little grandchildren on her lap, Valeria, then surrounded by her
female companions, spoke in the name of them all:—
“We that now make our appearance, O Volumnia, and you, Vergilia, are
come as mere women to women, not by direction of the senate, or an order
from the consuls, or the appointment of any other magistrate; but the
divine being himself, as I conceive, moved to compassion by prayers,
prompted us to visit you in a body, and request a thing on which our own
and the common safety depends, and which, if you consent to it, will
raise your glory above that of the daughters of the Sabines, who won
over their fathers and their husbands from mortal enmity to peace and
friendship. Arise and come with us to Marcius; join in our supplication,
and bear for your country this true and just testimony on her behalf:
that, notwithstanding the many mischiefs that have been done her, yet
she has never outraged you, nor so much as thought of treating you ill,
in all her resentment, but does now restore you safe into his hands,
though there be small likelihood she should obtain from him any
equitable terms.”
The words of Valeria were seconded by the acclamations of the other
women, to which Volumnia made answer:—
“I and Vergilia, my countrywomen, have an equal share with you all in
the common miseries, and we have the additional sorrow, which is wholly
ours, that we have lost the merit and good fame of Marcius, and see his
person confined, rather than protected, by the arms of the enemy. Yet I
account this the greatest of all misfortunes, if indeed the affairs of
Rome be sunk to so feeble a state as to have their last dependence upon
us. For it is hardly imaginable he should have any consideration left
for us, when he has no regard for the country which he was wont to
prefer before his mother and wife and children. Make use, however, of
our service; and lead us, if you please, to him; we are able, if nothing
more, at least to spend our last breath in making suit to him for our
country.”
Having spoken thus, she took Vergilia by the hand, and the young
children, and so accompanied them to the Volscian camp. So lamentable a
sight much affected the enemies themselves, who viewed them in
respectful silence. Marcius was then sitting in his place, with his
chief officers about him, and, seeing the party of women advance toward
them, wondered what should be the matter; but perceiving at length that
his mother was at the head of them, he would fain have hardened himself
in his former inexorable temper, but, overcome by his feelings, and
confounded at what he saw, he did not endure they should approach him
sitting in state, but came down hastily to meet them, saluting his
mother first, and embracing her a long time, and then his wife and
children, sparing neither tears nor caresses, but suffering himself to
be borne away and carried headlong, as it were, by the impetuous
violence of his passion.
When he had satisfied himself, and observed that his mother Volumnia
was desirous to say something, the Volscian council being first called
in, he heard her to the following effect: “Our dress and our very
persons, my son, might tell you, though we should say nothing ourselves,
in how forlorn a condition we have lived at home since your banishment
and absence from us; and now consider with yourself, whether we may not
pass for the most unfortunate of all women, to have that sight, which
should be the sweetest that we could see, converted, through I know not
what fatality, to one of all others the most formidable and dreadful, —
Volumnia to behold her son, and Vergilia her husband, in arms against
the walls of Rome. Even prayer itself, whence others gain comfort and
relief in all manner of misfortunes, is that which most adds to our
confusion and distress; since our best wishes are inconsistent with
themselves, nor can we at the same time petition the gods for Rome’s
victory and your preservation, but what the worst of our enemies would
imprecate as a curse, is the very object of our vows. Your wife and
children are under the sad necessity, that they must either be deprived
of you, or of their native soil. As for myself, I am resolved not to
wait till war shall determine this alternative for me; but if I cannot
prevail with you to prefer amity and concord to quarrel and hostility,
and to be the benefactor to both parties, rather than the destroyer of
one of them, be assured of this from me, and reckon steadfastly upon it,
that you shall not be able to reach your country, unless you trample
first upon the corpse of her that brought you into life. For it will be
ill in me to wait and loiter in the world till the day come wherein I
shall see a child of mine, either led in triumph by his own countrymen,
or triumphing over them. Did I require you to save your country by
ruining the Volscians, then, I confess, my son, the case would be hard
for you to solve. It is base to bring destitution on our
fellow-citizens; it is unjust to betray those who have placed their
confidence in us. But, as it is, we do but desire a deliverance equally
expedient for them and us; only more glorious and honorable on the
Volscian side, who, as superior in arms, will be thought freely to
bestow the two greatest of blessings, peace and friendship, even when
they themselves receive the same. If we obtain these, the common thanks
will be chiefly due to you as the principal cause; but if they be not
granted, you alone must expect to bear the blame from both nations. The
chance of all war is uncertain, yet thus much is certain in the present,
that you, by conquering Rome, will only get the reputation of having
undone your country; but if the Volscians happen to be defeated under
your conduct, then the world will say, that, to satisfy a revengeful
humor, you brought misery on your friends and patrons.”
Marcius listened to his mother while she spoke, without answering her
a word; and Volumnia, seeing him stand mute also for a long time after
she had ceased, resumed: “O my son,” said she, “what is the meaning of
this silence? Is it a duty to postpone everything to a sense of
injuries, and wrong to gratify a mother in a request like this? Is it
the characteristic of a great man to remember wrongs that have been done
him, and not the part of a great and good man to remember benefits such
as those that children receive from parents, and to requite them with
honor and respect? You, methinks, who are so relentless in the
punishment of the ungrateful, should not be more careless than others to
be grateful yourself. You have punished your country already; you have
not yet paid your debt to me. Nature and religion, surely, unattended by
any constraint, should have won your consent to petitions so worthy and
so just as these; but if it must be so, I will even use my last
resource.” Having said this, she threw herself down at his feet, as did
also his wife and children; upon which Marcius, crying out, “O mother!
what is it you have done to me?” raised her up from the ground, and
pressing her right hand with more than ordinary vehemence, “You have
gained a victory,” said he, “fortunate enough for the Romans, but
destructive to your son; whom you, though none else, have defeated.”
After which, and a little private conference with his mother and his
wife, he sent them back again to Rome, as they desired of him.
The next morning, he broke up his camp, and led the Volscians
homeward, variously affected with what he had done; some of them
complaining of him and condemning his act, others, who were inclined to
a peaceful conclusion, unfavorable to neither. A third party, while much
disliking his proceedings, yet could not look upon Marcius as a
treacherous person, but thought it pardonable in him to be thus shaken
and driven to surrender at last, under such compulsion. None, however,
opposed his commands; they all obediently followed him, though rather
from admiration of his virtue, than any regard they now had to his
authority. The Roman people, meantime, more effectually manifested how
much fear and danger they had been in while the war lasted, by their
deportment after they were freed from it. Those that guarded the walls
had no sooner given notice that the Volscians were dislodged and drawn
off, but they set open all their temples in a moment, and began to crown
themselves with garlands and prepare for sacrifice, as they were wont to
do upon tidings brought of any signal victory. But the joy and transport
of the whole city was chiefly remarkable in the honors and marks of
affection paid to the women, as well by the senate as the people in
general; every one declaring that they were, beyond all question, the
instruments of the public safety. And the senate having passed a decree
that whatsoever they would ask in the way of any favor or honor should
be allowed and done for them by the magistrates, they demanded simply
that a temple might be erected to Female Fortune, the expense of which
they offered to defray out of their own contributions, if the city would
be at the cost of sacrifices, and other matters pertaining to the due
honor of the gods, out of the common treasury. The senate, much
commending their public spirit, caused the temple to be built and a
statue set up in it at the public charge; they, however, made up a sum
among themselves, for a second image of Fortune, which the Romans say
uttered, as it was putting up, words to this effect, “Blessed of the
gods, O women, is your gift.”
These words they profess were repeated a second time, expecting our
belief for what seems pretty nearly an impossibility. It may be possible
enough, that statues may seem to sweat, and to run with tears, and to
stand with certain dewy drops of a sanguine color; for timber and stones
are frequently known to contract a kind of scurf and rottenness,
productive of moisture; and various tints may form on the surfaces, both
from within and from the action of the air outside; and by these signs
it is not absurd to imagine that the deity may forewarn us. It may
happen, also, that images and statues may sometimes make a noise not
unlike that of a moan or groan, through a rupture or violent internal
separation of the parts; but that an articulate voice, and such express
words, and language so clear and exact and elaborate, should proceed
from inanimate things, is, in my judgment, a thing utterly out of
possibility. For it was never known that either the soul of man, or the
deity himself, uttered vocal sounds and language, alone, without an
organized body and members fitted for speech. But where history seems in
a manner to force our assent by the concurrence of numerous and credible
witnesses, we are to conclude that an impression distinct from sensation
affects the imaginative part of our nature, and then carries away the
judgment, so as to believe it to be a sensation: just as in sleep we
fancy we see and hear, without really doing either. Persons, however,
whose strong feelings of reverence to the deity, and tenderness for
religion, will not allow them to deny or invalidate anything of this
kind, have certainly a strong argument for their faith, in the wonderful
and transcendent character of the divine power; which admits no manner
of comparison with ours, either in its nature or its action, the modes
or the strength of its operations. It is no contradiction to reason that
it should do things that we cannot do, and effect what for us is
impracticable: differing from us in all respects, in its acts yet more
than in other points we may well believe it to be unlike us and remote
from us. Knowledge of divine things for the most part, as
Heraclitus says, is lost to us by incredulity.
When Marcius came back to Antium, Tullus, who thoroughly hated and
greatly feared him, proceeded at once to contrive how he might
immediately dispatch him; as, if he escaped now, he was never likely to
give him such another advantage. Having, therefore, got together and
suborned several partisans against him, he required Marcius to resign
his charge, and give the Volscians all account of his administration.
He, apprehending the danger of a private condition, while Tullus held
the office of general and exercised the greatest power among his
fellow-citizens, made answer, that he was ready to lay down his
commission, whenever those from whose common authority he had received
it, should think fit to recall it; and that in the meantime he was ready
to give the Antiates satisfaction, as to all particulars of his conduct,
if they were desirous of it.
An assembly was called, and popular speakers, as had been concerted,
came forward to exasperate and incense the multitude; but when Marcius
stood up to answer, the more unruly and tumultuous part of the people
became quiet on a sudden, and out of reverence allowed him to speak
without the least disturbance; while all the better people, and such as
were satisfied with a peace, made it evident by their whole behavior,
that they would give him a favorable hearing, and judge and pronounce
according to equity.
Tullus, therefore, began to dread the issue of the defense he was
going to make for himself; for he was an admirable speaker, and the
former services he had done the Volscians had procured and still
preserved for him greater kindness than could be outweighed by any blame
for his late conduct. Indeed, the very accusation itself was a proof and
testimony of the greatness of his merits, since people could never have
complained or thought themselves wronged, because Rome was not brought
into their power, but that by his means they had come so near to taking
it. For these reasons, the conspirators judged it prudent not to make
any further delays, nor to test the general feeling; but the boldest of
their faction, crying out that they ought not to listen to a traitor,
nor allow him still to retain office and play the tyrant among them,
fell upon Marcius in a body, and slew him there, none of those that were
present offering to defend him. But it quickly appeared that the action
was in nowise approved by the majority of the Volscians, who hurried out
of their several cities to show respect to his corpse; to which they
gave honorable interment, adorning his sepulchre with arms and trophies,
as the monument of a noble hero and a famous general. When the Romans
heard tidings of his death, they gave no other signification either of
honor or of anger towards him, but simply granted the request of the
women, that they might put themselves into mourning and bewail him for
ten months, as the usage was upon the loss of a father or a son or a
brother; that being the period fixed for the longest lamentation by the
laws of Numa Pompilius, as is more amply told in the account of him.
Marcius was no sooner deceased, but the Volscians felt the need of
his assistance. They quarreled first with the Aequians, their
confederates and their friends, about the appointment of the general of
their joint forces, and carried their dispute to the length of bloodshed
and slaughter; and were then defeated by the Romans in a pitched battle,
where not only Tullus lost his life, but the principal flower of their
whole army was cut in pieces; so that they were forced to submit and
accept of peace upon very dishonorable terms, becoming subjects of Rome,
and pledging themselves to submission.
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Comparison of Alcibiades with Coriolanus
Having described all their actions that seem to deserve
commemoration, their military ones, we may say, incline the balance
very decidedly upon neither side. They both, in pretty equal
measure, displayed on numerous occasions the daring and courage of
the soldier, and the skill and foresight of the general; unless,
indeed, the fact that Alcibiades was victorious and successful in
many contests both by sea and land, ought to gain him the title of a
more complete commander. That so long as they remained and held
command in their respective countries, they eminently sustained, and
when they were driven into exile, yet more eminently damaged the
fortunes of those countries, is common to both. All the sober
citizens felt disgust at the petulance, the low flattery, and base
seductions which Alcibiades, in his public life, allowed himself to
employ with the view of winning the people’s favor; and the
ungraciousness, pride, and oligarchical haughtiness which Marcius,
on the other hand, displayed in his, were the abhorrence of the
Roman populace. Neither of these courses can be called commendable;
but a man who ingratiates himself by indulgence and flattery, is
hardly so censurable as one who, to avoid the appearance of
flattering, insults. To seek power by servility to the people is a
disgrace, but to maintain it by terror, violence, and oppression, is
not a disgrace only, but an injustice.
Marcius, according to our common conceptions of his character,
was undoubtedly simple and straightforward; Alcibiades, unscrupulous
as a public man, and false. He is more especially blamed for the
dishonorable and treacherous way in which, as Thucydides relates, he
imposed upon the Lacedaemonian ambassadors, and disturbed the
continuance of the peace. Yet this policy, which engaged the city
again in war, nevertheless placed it in a powerful and formidable
position, by the accession, which Alcibiades obtained for it, of the
alliance of Argos and Mantinea. And Coriolanus also, Dionysius
relates, used unfair means to excite war between the Romans and the
Volscians, in the false report which he spread about the visitors at
the Games; and the motive of this action seems to make it the worse
of the two; since it was not done, like the other, out of ordinary
political jealousy, strife, and competition. Simply to gratify
anger, from which, as Ion says, no one ever yet got any return, he
threw whole districts of Italy into confusion, and sacrificed to his
passion against his country numerous innocent cities. It is true,
indeed, that Alcibiades also, by his resentment, was the occasion of
great disasters to his country, but he relented as soon as he found
their feelings to be changed; and after he was driven out a second
time, so far from taking pleasure in the errors and inadvertencies
of their commanders, or being indifferent to the danger they were
thus incurring, he did the very thing that Aristides is so highly
commended for doing to Themistocles: he came to the generals who
were his enemies, and pointed out to them what they ought to do.
Coriolanus, on the other hand, first of all attacked the whole body
of his countrymen, though only one portion of them had done him any
wrong, while the other, the better and nobler portion, had actually
suffered, as well as sympathized, with him. And, secondly, by the
obduracy with which he resisted numerous embassies and
supplications, addressed in propitiation of his single anger and
offense, he showed that it had been to destroy and overthrow, not to
recover and regain his country, that he had excited bitter and
implacable hostilities against it. There is, indeed, one distinction
that may be drawn. Alcibiades, it may be said, was not safe among
the Spartans, and had the inducements at once of fear and of hatred
to lead him again to Athens; whereas Marcius could not honorably
have left the Volscians, when they were behaving so well to him: he,
in the command of their forces and the enjoyment of their entire
confidence, was in a very different position from Alcibiades, whom
the Lacedaemonians did not so much wish to adopt into their service,
as to use, and then abandon. Driven about from house to house in the
city, and from general to general in the camp, the latter had no
resort but to place himself in the hands of Tisaphernes; unless,
indeed, we are to suppose that his object in courting favor with him
was to avert the entire destruction of his native city, whither he
wished himself to return.
As regards money, Alcibiades, we are told, was often guilty of
procuring it by accepting bribes, and spent it in in luxury and
dissipation. Coriolanus declined to receive it, even when pressed
upon him by his commanders as all honor; and one great reason for
the odium he incurred with the populace in the discussions about
their debts was, that he trampled upon the poor, not for money’s
sake, but out of pride and insolence.
Antipater, in a letter written upon the death of Aristotle the
philosopher, observes, “Amongst his other gifts he had that of
persuasiveness;” and the absence of this in the character of Marcius
made all his great actions and noble qualities unacceptable to those
whom they benefited: pride, and self-will, the consort, as Plato
calls it, of solitude, made him insufferable. With the skill which
Alcibiades on the contrary, possessed to treat every one in the way
most agreeable to him, we cannot wonder that all his successes were
attended with the most exuberant favor and honor; his very errors,
at times, being accompanied by something of grace and felicity. And
so, in spite of great and frequent hurt that he had done the city,
he was repeatedly appointed to office and command; while Coriolanus
stood in vain for a place which his great services had made his due.
The one, in spite of the harm he occasioned, could not make himself
hated, nor the other, with all the admiration he attracted, succeed
in being beloved by his countrymen.
Coriolanus, moreover, it should be said, did not as a general
obtain any successes for his country, but only for his enemies
against his country. Alcibiades was often of service to Athens, both
as a soldier and as a commander. So long as he was personally
present, he had the perfect mastery of his political adversaries;
calumny only succeeded in his absence. Coriolanus was condemned in
person at Rome; and in like manner killed by the Volscians, not
indeed with any right or justice, yet not without some pretext
occasioned by his own acts; since, after rejecting all conditions of
peace in public, in private he yielded to the solicitations of the
women, and, without establishing peace, threw up the favorable
chances of war. He ought, before retiring, to have obtained the
consent of those who had placed their trust in him; if indeed he
considered their claims on him to be the strongest. Or, if we say
that he did not care about the Volscians, but merely had prosecuted
the war, which he now abandoned, for the satisfaction of his own
resentment, then the noble thing would have been, not to spare his
country for his mother’s sake, but his mother in and with his
country; since both his mother and his wife were part and parcel of
that endangered country. After harshly repelling public
supplications, the entreaties of ambassadors, and the prayers of
priests, to concede all as a private favor to his mother was less an
honor to her than a dishonor to the city which thus escaped, in
spite, it would seem, of its own demerits, through the intercession
of a single woman. Such a grace could, indeed, seem merely
invidious, ungracious, and unreasonable in the eyes of both parties;
he retreated without listening to the persuasions of his opponents,
or asking the consent of his friends. The origin of all lay in his
unsociable, supercilious, and self-willed disposition, which, in all
cases, is offensive to most people; and when combined with a passion
for distinction passes into absolute savageness and mercilessness.
Men decline to ask favors of the people, professing not to need any
honors from them; and then are indignant if they do not obtain them.
Metellus, Aristides, and Epaminondas certainly did not beg favors of
the multitude; but that was because they, in real truth, did not
value the gifts which a popular body can either confer or refuse;
and when they were more than once driven into exile, rejected at
elections, and condemned in courts of justice, they showed no
resentment at the ill-humor of their fellow-citizens, but were
willing and contented to return and be reconciled when the feeling
altered and they were wished for. He who least likes courting favor,
ought also least to think of resenting neglect: to feel wounded at
being refused a distinction can only arise from an overweening
appetite to have it.
Alcibiades never professed to deny that it was pleasant to him to
be honored, and distasteful to him to be overlooked; and,
accordingly, he always tried to place himself upon good terms with
all that he met; Coriolanus’s pride forbade him to pay attentions to
those who could have promoted his advancement, and yet his love of
distinction made him feel hurt and angry when he was disregarded.
Such are the faulty parts of his character, which in all other
respects was a noble one. For his temperance, continence, and
probity, he might claim to be compared with the best and purest of
the Greeks; not in any sort or kind with Alcibiades, the least
scrupulous and most entirely careless of human beings in all these
points.
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