[Illustration: A GREEK SHEPHERD, OLYMPIA. ]

 Édition d'Élite

 Historical Tales

 The Romance of Reality

 By

 CHARLES MORRIS

 _Author of "Half-Hours with the Best American Authors, " "Tales from the Dramatists, " etc. _

 IN FIFTEEN VOLUMES

 Volume X

 Greek

 J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY

 PHILADELPHIA AND LONDON

 Copyright, 1896, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY. Copyright, 1904, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY. Copyright, 1908, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY. 

CONTENTS. 

 PAGE

 HOW TROY WAS TAKEN 7

 THE VOYAGE OF THE ARGONAUTS 28

 THESEUS AND ARIADNE 33

 THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES 41

 LYCURGUS AND THE SPARTAN LAWS 50

 ARISTOMENES, THE HERO OF MESSENIA 60

 SOLON, THE LAW-GIVER OF ATHENS 67

 THE FORTUNE OF CROESUS 77

 THE SUITORS OF AGARISTÉ 86

 THE TYRANTS OF CORINTH 93

 THE RING OF POLYCRATES 100

 THE ADVENTURES OF DEMOCEDES 109

 DARIUS AND THE SCYTHIANS 117

 THE ATHENIANS AT MARATHON 126

 XERXES AND HIS ARMY 135

 HOW THE SPARTANS DIED AT THERMOPYLÆ 144

 THE WOODEN WALLS OF ATHENS 154

 PLATÆA'S FAMOUS DAY 165

 FOUR FAMOUS MEN OF ATHENS 174

 HOW ATHENS ROSE FROM ITS ASHES 186

 THE PLAGUE AT ATHENS 194

 THE ENVOYS OF LIFE AND DEATH 200

 THE DEFENCE OF PLATÆA 205

 HOW THE LONG WALLS WENT DOWN 213

 SOCRATES AND ALCIBIADES 221

 THE RETREAT OF THE TEN THOUSAND 231

 THE RESCUE OF THEBES 245

 THE HUMILIATION OF SPARTA 259

 TIMOLEON, THE FAVORITE OF FORTUNE 271

 THE SACRED WAR 288

 ALEXANDER THE GREAT AND DARIUS 296

 THE WORLD'S GREATEST ORATOR 305

 THE OLYMPIC GAMES 315

 PYRRHUS AND THE ROMANS 324

 PHILOPOEMEN AND THE FALL OF SPARTA 334

 THE DEATH-STRUGGLE OF GREECE 345

 ZENOBIA AND LONGINUS 351

 THE LITERARY GLORY OF GREECE 360

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 

GREEK. 

 PAGE

 A GREEK SHEPHERD, OLYMPIA _Frontispiece_. 

 PARTING OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE 15

 OEDIPUS AND ANTIGONE 42

 GRECIAN LADIES AT HOME 87

 THE ACROPOLIS OF ATHENS 98

 RUINS OF THE PARTHENON 130

 THE PLACE OF ASSEMBLY OF THE ATHENIANS 145

 THE VICTORS AT SALAMIS 160

 ANCIENT ENTRANCE TO THE STADIUM, ATHENS 181

 A REUNION AT THE HOUSE OF ASPASIA 190

 PIRÆUS, THE PORT OF ATHENS 213

 PRISON OF SOCRATES, ATHENS 229

 GATE OF THE AGORA, OR OIL MARKET, ATHENS 255

 BED OF THE RIVER KLADEOS 289

 THE DEATH OF ALEXANDER THE GREAT 300

 THE MODERN OLYMPIC GAMES IN THE STADIUM 316

 THE THEATRE OF BACCHUS, ATHENS 322

 REMAINS OF THE TEMPLE OF MINERVA, CORINTH 345

 THE RUINS OF PALMYRA 358

 ALONG THE COAST OF GREECE 362

_HOW TROY WAS TAKEN. _

The far-famed Helen, wife of King Menelaus of Sparta, was the mostbeautiful woman in the world. And from her beauty and faithlessness camethe most celebrated of ancient wars, with death and disaster to numbersof famous heroes and the final ruin of the ancient city of Troy. Thestory of these striking events has been told only in poetry. We proposeto tell it again in sober prose. 

But warning must first be given that Helen and the heroes of the Trojanwar dwelt in the mist-land of legend and tradition, that cloud-realmfrom which history only slowly emerged. The facts with which we are hereconcerned are those of the poet, not those of the historian. It is farfrom sure that Helen ever lived. It is far from sure that there ever wasa Trojan war. Many people doubt the whole story. Yet the ancient Greeksaccepted it as history, and as we are telling their story, we may fairlyinclude it among the historical tales of Greece. The heroes concernedare certainly fully alive in Homer's great poem, the "Iliad, " and we cando no better than follow the story of this stirring poem, while addingdetails from other sources. 

Mythology tells us that, once upon a time, the three goddesses, Venus, Juno, and Minerva, had a contest as to which was the most beautiful, andleft the decision to Paris, then a shepherd on Mount Ida, though reallythe son of King Priam of Troy. The princely shepherd decided in favor ofVenus, who had promised him in reward the love of the most beautiful ofliving women, the Spartan Helen, daughter of the great deity Zeus (orJupiter). Accordingly the handsome and favored youth set sail forSparta, bringing with him rich gifts for its beautiful queen. Menelausreceived his Trojan guest with much hospitality, but, unluckily, wassoon obliged to make a journey to Crete, leaving Helen to entertain theprincely visitor. The result was as Venus had foreseen. Love arosebetween the handsome youth and the beautiful woman, and an elopementfollowed, Paris stealing away with both the wife and the money of hisconfiding host. He set sail, had a prosperous voyage, and arrived safelyat Troy with his prize on the third day. This was a fortune verydifferent from that of Ulysses, who on his return from Troy took tenyears to accomplish a similar voyage. 

As might naturally be imagined, this elopement excited indignation notonly in the hearts of Menelaus and his brother Agamemnon, but among theGreek chieftains generally, who sympathized with the husband in hisgrief and shared his anger against Troy. War was declared against thatfaithless city, and most of the chiefs pledged themselves to take partin it, and to lend their aid until Helen was recovered or restored. Hadthey known all that was before them they might have hesitated, since ittook ten long years to equip the expedition, for ten years more the warcontinued, and some of the leaders spent ten years in their return. Butin those old days time does not seem to have counted for much, andbesides, many of the chieftains had been suitors for the hand of Helen, and were doubtless moved by their old love in pledging themselves to herrecovery. 

Some of them, however, were anything but eager to take part. Achillesand Ulysses, the two most important in the subsequent war, endeavored toescape this necessity. Achilles was the son of the sea-nymph Thetis, whohad dipped him when an infant in the river Styx, the waters of whichmagic stream rendered him invulnerable to any weapon except in onespot, --the heel by which his mother had held him. But her love for herson made her anxious to guard him against every danger, and when thechieftains came to seek his aid in the expedition, she concealed him, dressed as a girl, among the maidens of the court. But the craftyUlysses, who accompanied them, soon exposed this trick. Disguised as apedler, he spread his goods, a shield and a spear among them, before themaidens. Then an alarm of danger being sounded, the girls fled inaffright, but the disguised youth, with impulsive valor, seized theweapons and prepared to defend himself. His identity was thus revealed. 

Ulysses himself, one of the wisest and shrewdest of men, had also soughtto escape the dangerous expedition. To do so he feigned madness, andwhen the messenger chiefs came to seek him they found him attempting toplough with an ox and a horse yoked together, while he sowed the fieldwith salt. One of them, however, took Telemachus, the young son ofUlysses, and laid him in the furrow before the plough. Ulysses turnedthe plough aside, and thus showed that there was more method thanmadness in his mind. 

And thus, in time, a great force of men and a great fleet of ships weregathered, there being in all eleven hundred and eighty-six ships andmore than one hundred thousand men. The kings and chieftains of Greeceled their followers from all parts of the land to Aulis, in Boeotia, whence they were to set sail for the opposite coast of Asia Minor, onwhich stood the city of Troy. Agamemnon, who brought one hundred ships, was chosen leader of the army, which included all the heroes of the age, among them the distinguished warriors Ajax and Diomedes, the wise oldNestor, and many others of valor and fame. 

The fleet at length set sail; but Troy was not easily reached. Theleaders of the army did not even know where Troy was, and landed in thewrong locality, where they had a battle with the people. Embarkingagain, they were driven by a storm back to Greece. Adverse winds nowkept them at Aulis until Agamemnon appeased the hostile gods bysacrificing to them his daughter Iphigenia, --one of the ways which thoseold heathens had of obtaining fair weather. Then the winds changed, andthe fleet made its way to the island of Tenedos, in the vicinity ofTroy. From here Ulysses and Menelaus were sent to that city as envoys todemand a return of Helen and the stolen property. 

Meanwhile the Trojans, well aware of what was in store for them, hadmade abundant preparations, and gathered an army of allies from variousparts of Thrace and Asia Minor. They received the two Greek envoyshospitably, paid them every attention, but sustained the villany ofParis, and refused to deliver Helen and the treasure. When this word wasbrought back to the fleet the chiefs decided on immediate war, and sailwas made for the neighboring shores of the Trojan realm. 

Of the long-drawn-out war that followed we know little more than whatHomer has told us, though something may be learned from other ancientpoems. The first Greek to land fell by the hand of Hector, the Trojanhero, --as the gods had foretold. But in vain the Trojans sought toprevent the landing; they were quickly put to rout, and Cycnus, one oftheir greatest warriors and son of the god Neptune, was slain byAchilles. He was invulnerable to iron, but was choked to death by thehero and changed into a swan. The Trojans were driven within their citywalls, and the invulnerable Achilles, with what seems a safe valor, stormed and sacked numerous towns in the neighborhood, killed one ofKing Priam's sons, captured and sold as slaves several others, drove offthe oxen of the celebrated warrior Æneas, and came near to killing thathero himself. He also captured and kept as his own prize a beautifulmaiden named Briseis, and was even granted, through the favor of thegods, an interview with the divine Helen herself. 

This is about all we know of the doings of the first nine years of thewar. What the Greeks were at during that long time neither history norlegend tells. The only other event of importance was the death ofPalamedes, one of the ablest Grecian chiefs. It was he who had detectedthe feigned madness of Ulysses, and tradition relates that he owed hisdeath to the revengeful anger of that cunning schemer, who had notforgiven him for being made to take part in this endless and uselesswar. 

Thus nine years of warfare passed, and Troy remained untaken andseemingly unshaken. How the two hosts managed to live in the mean timethe tellers of the story do not say. Thucydides, the historian, thinksit likely that the Greeks had to farm the neighboring lands for food. How the Trojans and their allies contrived to survive so long withintheir walls we are left to surmise, unless they farmed their streets. And thus we reach the opening of the tenth year and of Homer's "Iliad. "

Homer's story is too long for us to tell in detail, and too full of warand bloodshed for modern taste. We can only give it in epitome. 

Agamemnon, the leader of the Greeks, robs Achilles of his beautifulcaptive Briseis, and the invulnerable hero, furious at the insult, retires in sullen rage to his ships, forbids his troops to take part inthe war, and sulks in anger while battle after battle is fought. Deprived of his mighty aid, the Greeks find the Trojans quite theirmatch, and the fortunes of the warring hosts vary day by day. 

On a watch-tower in Troy sits Helen the beautiful, gazing out on thefield of conflict, and naming for old Priam, who sits beside her, theGrecian leaders as they appear at the head of their hosts on the plainbelow. On this plain meet in fierce combat Paris the abductor andMenelaus the indignant husband. Vengeance lends double weight to thespear of the latter, and Paris is so fiercely assailed that Venus has tocome to his aid to save him from death. Meanwhile a Trojan archer woundsMenelaus with an arrow, and a general battle ensues. 

The conflict is a fierce one, and many warriors on both sides are slain. Diomedes, a bold Grecian chieftain, is the hero of the day. Trojans fallby scores before his mighty spear, he rages in fury from side to side ofthe field, and at length meets the great Æneas, whose thigh he breakswith a huge stone. But Æneas is the son of the goddess Venus, who fliesto his aid and bears him from the field. The furious Greek daringlypursues the flying divinity, and even succeeds in wounding the goddessof love with his impious spear. At this sad outcome Venus, to whomphysical pain is a new sensation, flies in dismay to Olympus, the homeof the deities, and hides her weeping face in the lap of Father Jove, while her lady enemies taunt her with biting sarcasms. The whole sceneis an amusing example of the childish folly of mythology. 

In the next scene a new hero appears upon the field, Hector, the warlikeson of Priam, and next to Achilles the greatest warrior of the war. Hearms himself inside the walls, and takes an affectionate leave of hiswife Andromache and his infant son, the child crying with terror at hisglittering helmet and nodding plume. This mild demeanor of the warriorchanges to warlike ardor when he appears upon the field. His comingturns the tide of battle. The victorious Greeks are driven back beforehis shining spear, many of them are slain, and the whole host is drivento its ships and almost forced to take flight by sea from the victoriousonset of Hector and his triumphant followers. While the Greeks cower intheir ships the Trojans spend the night in bivouac upon the field. Homergives us a picturesque description of this night-watch, which Tennysonhas thus charmingly rendered into English:

 "As when in heaven the stars about the moon Look beautiful, when all the winds are laid, And every height comes out, and jutting peak And valley, and the immeasurable heavens Break open to their highest, and all the stars Shine, and the shepherd gladdens in his heart; So, many a fire between the ships and stream Of Xanthus blazed before the towers of Troy, A thousand on the plain; and close by each Sat fifty in the blaze of burning fire; And, champing golden grain, the horses stood Hard by their chariots, waiting for the dawn. "

Affairs had grown perilous for the Greeks. Patroclus, the bosom friendof Achilles, begged him to come to their aid. This the sulking herowould not do, but he lent Patroclus his armor, and permitted him tolead his troops, the Myrmidons, to the field. Patroclus was himself agallant and famous warrior, and his aid turned the next day's battleagainst the Trojans, who were driven back with great slaughter. But, unfortunately for this hero of the fight, a greater than he was in thefield. Hector met him in the full tide of his success, engaged him inbattle, killed him, and captured from his body the armor of Achilles. 

[Illustration: THE PARTING OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE. ]

The slaughter of his friend at length aroused the sullen Achilles toaction. Rage against the Trojans succeeded his anger against Agamemnon. His lost armor was replaced by new armor forged for him by Vulcan, thecelestial smith, --who fashioned him the most wonderful of shields andmost formidable of spears. Thus armed, he mounted his chariot and droveat the head of his Myrmidons to the field, where he made such frightfulslaughter of the Trojans that the river Scamander was choked with theircorpses; and, indignant at being thus treated, sought to drown the herofor his offence. Finally he met Hector, engaged him in battle, andkilled him with a thrust of his mighty spear. Then, fastening the corpseof the Trojan hero to his chariot, he dragged it furiously over theblood-soaked plain and around the city walls. Homer's story ends withthe funeral obsequies of the slain Patroclus and the burial by theTrojans of Hector's recovered body. 

Other writers tell us how the war went on. Hector was replaced byPenthesileia, the beautiful and warlike queen of the Amazons, who cameto the aid of the Trojans, and drove the Greeks from the field. But, alas! she too was slain by the invincible Achilles. Removing herhelmet, the victor was deeply affected to find that it was a beautifulwoman he had slain. 

The mighty Memnon, son of godlike parents, now made his appearance inthe Trojan ranks, at the head of a band of black Ethiopians, with whomhe wrought havoc among the Greeks. At length Achilles encountered thishero also, and a terrible battle ensued, whose result was long in doubt. In the end Achilles triumphed and Memnon fell. But he died to becomeimmortal, for his goddess mother prayed for and obtained for him thegift of immortal life. 

Such triumphs were easy for Achilles, whose flesh no weapon couldpierce; but no one was invulnerable to the poets, and his end came atlast. He had routed the Trojans and driven them within their gates, whenParis, aided by Apollo, the divine archer, shot an arrow at the herowhich struck him in his one pregnable spot, the heel. The fear of Thetiswas realized, her son died from the wound, and a fierce battle tookplace for the possession of his body. This Ajax and Ulysses succeeded incarrying off to the Grecian camp, where it was burned on a magnificentfuneral pile. Achilles, like his victim Memnon, was made immortal by thefavor of the gods. His armor was offered as a prize to the mostdistinguished Grecian hero, and was adjudged to Ulysses, whereupon Ajax, his close contestant for the prize, slew himself in despair. 

We cannot follow all the incidents of the campaign. It will suffice tosay that Paris was himself slain by an arrow, that Neoptolemus, the sonof Achilles, took his place in the field, and that the Trojans sufferedso severely at his hands that they took shelter behind their walls, whence they never again emerged to meet the Greeks in the field. 

But Troy was safe from capture while the Palladium, a statue whichJupiter himself had given to Dardanus, the ancestor of the Trojans, remained in the citadel of that city. Ulysses overcame this difficulty. He entered Troy in the disguise of a wounded and ragged fugitive, andmanaged to steal the Palladium from the citadel. Then, as the walls ofTroy still defied their assailants, a further and extraordinarystratagem was employed to gain access to the city. It seems a ridiculousone to us, but was accepted as satisfactory by the writers of Greece. This stratagem was the following:

A great hollow wooden horse, large enough to contain one hundred armedmen, was constructed, and in its interior the leading Grecian heroesconcealed themselves. Then the army set fire to its tents, took to itsships, and sailed away to the island of Tenedos, as if it had abandonedthe siege. Only the great horse was left on the long-contestedbattle-field. 

The Trojans, filled with joy at the sight of their departing foes, camestreaming out into the plain, women as well as warriors, and gazed withastonishment at the strange monster which their enemies had left. Manyof them wanted to take it into the city, and dedicate it to the gods asa mark of gratitude for their deliverance. The more cautious onesdoubted if it was wise to accept an enemy's gift. Laocoon, the priest ofNeptune, struck the side of the horse with his spear. A hollow soundcame from its interior, but this did not suffice to warn the indiscreetTrojans. And a terrible spectacle now filled them with superstitiousdread. Two great serpents appeared far out at sea and came swimminginward over the waves. Reaching the shore, they glided over the land towhere stood the unfortunate Laocoon, whose body they encircled withtheir folds. His son, who came to his rescue, was caught in the samedreadful coils, and the two perished miserably before the eyes of theirdismayed countrymen. 

There was no longer any talk of rejecting the fatal gift. The gods hadgiven their decision. A breach was made in the walls of Troy, and thegreat horse was dragged with exultation within the stronghold that forten long years had defied its foe. 

Riotous joy and festivity followed in Troy. It extended into the night. While this went on Sinon, a seeming renegade who had been left behind bythe Greeks, and who had helped to deceive the Trojans by lying tales, lighted a fire-signal for the fleet, and loosened the bolts of thewooden horse, from whose hollow depths the hundred weary warriorshastened to descend. 

And now the triumph of the Trojans was changed to sudden woe and direlamentation. Death followed close upon their festivity. The hundredwarriors attacked them at their banquets, the returned fleet disgorgedits thousands, who poured through the open gates, and death heldfearful carnival within the captured city. Priam was slain at the altarby Neoptolemus. All his sons fell in death. The city was sacked anddestroyed. Its people were slain or taken captive. Few escaped, butamong these was Æneas, the traditional ancestor of Rome. As regardsHelen, the cause of the war, she was recovered by Menelaus, and gladlyaccompanied him back to Sparta. There she lived for years afterwards indignity and happiness, and finally died to become happily immortal inthe Elysian fields. 

But our story is not yet at an end. The Greeks had still to return totheir homes, from which they had been ten years removed. And thoughParis had crossed the intervening seas in three days, it took Ulyssesten years to return, while some of his late companions failed to reachtheir homes at all. Many, indeed, were the adventures which thesehome-sailing heroes were destined to encounter. 

Some of the Greek warriors reached home speedily and were met withwelcome, but others perished by the way, while Agamemnon, their leader, returned to find that his wife had been false to him, and perished byher treacherous hand. Menelaus wandered long through Egypt, Cyprus, andelsewhere before he reached his native land. Nestor and several otherswent to Italy, where they founded cities. Diomedes also became a founderof cities, and various others seem to have busied themselves in thissame useful occupation. Neoptolemus made his way to Epirus, where hebecame king of the Molossians. Æneas, the Trojan hero, sought Carthage, whose queen Dido died for love of him. Thence he sailed to Italy, wherehe fought battles and won victories, and finally founded the city ofRome. His story is given by Virgil, in the poem of the "Æneid. " Muchmore might be told of the adventures of the returning heroes, but thechief of them all is that related of the much wandering Ulysses, asgiven by Homer in his epic poem the "Odyssey. "

The story of the "Odyssey" might serve us for a tale in itself, but asit is in no sense historical we give it here in epitome. 

We are told that during the wanderings of Ulysses his island kingdom ofIthaca had been invaded by a throng of insolent suitors of his wifePenelope, who occupied his castle and wasted his substance in riotousliving. His son Telemachus, indignant at this, set sail in search of hisfather, whom he knew to be somewhere upon the seas. Landing at Sparta, he found Menelaus living with Helen in a magnificent castle, richlyornamented with gold, silver, and bronze, and learned from him that hisfather was then in the island of Ogygia, where he had been long detainedby the nymph Calypso. 

The wanderer had experienced numerous adventures. He had encountered theone-eyed giant Polyphemus, who feasted on the fattest of the Greeks, while the others escaped by boring out his single eye. He had passed theland of the Lotus-Eaters, to whose magic some of the Greeks succumbed. In the island of Circe some of his followers were turned into swine. Butthe hero overcame this enchantress, and while in her land visited therealm of the departed and had interviews with the shades of the dead. He afterwards passed in safety through the frightful gulf of Scylla andCharybdis, and visited the wind-god Æolus, who gave him a fair windhome, and all the foul winds tied up in a bag. But the curious Greeksuntied the bag, and the ship was blown far from her course. Hisfollowers afterwards killed the sacred oxen of the sun, for which theywere punished by being wrecked. All were lost except Ulysses, whofloated on a mast to the island of Calypso. With this charming nymph hedwelt for seven years. 

Finally, at the command of the gods, Calypso set her willing captiveadrift on a raft of trees. This raft was shattered in a storm, butUlysses swam to the island of Phæacia, where he was rescued by Nausicaa, the king's daughter, and brought to the palace. Thence, in a Phæacianship, he finally reached Ithaca. 

Here new adventures awaited him. He sought his palace disguised as anold beggar, so that of all there, only his old dog knew him. Thefaithful animal staggered to his feet, feebly expressed his joy, andfell dead. Telemachus had now returned, and led his disguised fatherinto the palace, where the suitors were at their revels. Penelope, instructed what to do, now brought forth the bow of Ulysses, and offeredher hand to any one of the suitors who could bend it. It was tried bythem all, but tried in vain. Then the seeming beggar took in his handthe stout, ashen bow, bent it with ease, and with wonderful skill sentan arrow hurtling through the rings of twelve axes set up in line. Thisdone, he turned the terrible bow upon the suitors, sending itsdeath-dealing arrows whizzing through their midst. Telemachus andEumæus, his swine-keeper, aided him in this work of death, and afrightful scene of carnage ensued, from which not one of the suitorsescaped with his life. 

In the end the hero, freed from his ragged attire, made himself known tohis faithful wife, defeated the friends of the suitors, and recoveredhis kingdom from his foes. And thus ends the final episode of the famoustale of Troy. 

_THE VOYAGE OF THE ARGONAUTS. _

We are forced to approach the historical period of Greece through acloud-land of legend, in which atones of the gods are mingled with thoseof men, and the most marvellous of incidents are introduced as if theywere everyday occurrences. The Argonautic expedition belongs to this ageof myth, the vague vestibule of history. It embraces, as does the taleof the wanderings of Ulysses, very ancient ideas of geography, and manyable men have treated it as the record of an actual voyage, one of theearliest ventures of the Greeks upon the unknown seas. However this be, this much is certain, the story is full of romantic and supernaturalelements, and it was largely through these that it became so celebratedin ancient times. 

The story of the voyage of the ship Argo is a tragedy. Pelias, king ofIoleus, had consulted an oracle concerning the safety of his dominions, and was warned to beware of the man with one sandal. Soon afterwardsJason (a descendant of Æolus, the wind god) appeared before him with onefoot unsandalled. He had lost his sandal while crossing a swollenstream. Pelias, anxious to rid himself of this visitor, against whom theoracle had warned him, gave to Jason the desperate task of bringingback to Locus the Golden Fleece (the fleece of a speaking ram which hadborne Phryxus and Helle through the air from Greece, and had reachedColchis in Asia Minor, where it was dedicated to Mars, the god of war). 

Jason, young and daring, accepted without hesitation the perilous task, and induced a number of the noblest youth of Greece to accompany him inthe enterprise. Among these adventurers were Hercules, Theseus, Castor, Pollux, and many others of the heroes of legend. The way to Colchis layover the sea, and a ship was built for the adventurers named the Argo, in whose prow was inserted a piece of timber cut from the celebratedspeaking oak of Dodona. 

The voyage of the Argo was as full of strange incidents as those whichUlysses encountered in his journey home from Troy. Land was firstreached on the island of Lemnos. Here no men were found. It was anisland of women only. All the men had been put to death by the women inrevenge for ill-treatment, and they held the island as their own. Butthese warlike matrons, who had perhaps grown tired of seeing only eachother's faces, received the Argonauts with much friendship, and madetheir stay so agreeable that they remained there for several months. 

Leaving Lemnos, they sailed along the coast of Thrace, and up theHellespont (a strait which had received its name from Helle, who, whileriding on the golden ram in the air above it, had fallen and beendrowned in its waters). Thence they sailed along the Propontis and thecoast of Mysia, not, as we may be sure, without adventures. In thecountry of the Bebrycians the giant king Amycus challenged any of themto box with him. Pollux accepted the challenge, and killed the giantwith a blow. Next they reached Bithynia, where dwelt the blind prophetPhineus, to whom their coming proved a blessing. 

Phineus had been blinded by Neptune, as a punishment for having shownPhryxus the way to Colchis. He was also tormented by the harpies, frightful winged monsters, who flew down from the clouds whenever heattempted to eat, snatched the food from his lips, and left on it such avile odor that no man could come near it. He, being a prophet, knew thatthe Argonauts would free him from this curse. There were with them Zetesand Calias, winged sons of Boreas, the god of the north winds; and whenthe harpies descended again to spoil the prophet's meal, these wingedwarriors not only drove them away, but pursued them through the air. They could not overtake them, but the harpies were forbidden by Jupiterto molest Phineus any longer. 

The blind prophet, grateful for this deliverance, told the voyagers howthey might escape a dreadful danger which lay in their onward way. Thiscame from the Symplegades, two rocks between which their ships mustpass, and which continually opened and closed, with a violent collision, and so swiftly that even a bird could scarce fly through the opening insafety. When the Argo reached the dangerous spot, at the suggestion ofPhineus, a dove was let loose. It flew with all speed through theopening, but the rocks clashed together so quickly behind it that itlost a few feathers of its tail. Now was their opportunity. The rowersdashed their ready oars into the water, shot forward with rapid speed, and passed safely through, only losing the ornaments at the stern oftheir ship. Their escape, however, they owed to the goddess Minerva, whose strong hand held the rocks asunder during the brief interval oftheir passage. It had been decreed by the gods that if any ship escapedthese dreadful rocks they should forever cease to move. The escape ofthe Argo fulfilled this decree, and the Symplegades have ever sinceremained immovable. 

Onward went the daring voyagers, passing in their journey MountCaucasus, on whose bare rock Prometheus, for the crime of giving fire tomankind, was chained, while an eagle devoured his liver. The adventurerssaw this dread eagle and heard the groans of the sufferer himself. Helpless to release him whom the gods had condemned, they rowed rapidlyaway. 

Finally Colchis was reached, a land then ruled over by King Æetes, fromwhom the heroes demanded the golden fleece, stating that they had beensent thither by the gods themselves. Æetes heard their request withanger, and told them that if they wanted the fleece they could have iton one condition only. He possessed two fierce and tameless bulls, withbrazen feet and fire-breathing nostrils. These had been the gift of thegod Vulcan. Jason was told that if he wished to prove his descent fromthe gods and their sanction of his voyage, he must harness theseterrible animals, plough with them a large field, and sow it withdragons' teeth. 

Perilous as this task seemed, each of the heroes was eager to undertakeit, but Jason, as the leader of the expedition, took it upon himself. Fortune favored him in the desperate undertaking. Medea, the daughter ofÆetes, who knew all the arts of magic, had seen the handsome youth andfallen in love with him at sight. She now came to his aid with all hermagic. Gathering an herb which had grown where the blood of Prometheushad fallen, she prepared from it a magical ointment which, when rubbedon Jason's body, made him invulnerable either to fire or weapons of war. Thus prepared, he fearlessly approached the fire-breathing bulls, yokedthem unharmed, and ploughed the field, in whose furrows he then sowedthe dragons' teeth. Instantly from the latter sprang up a crop of armedmen, who turned their weapons against the hero. But Jason, who had beenfurther instructed by Medea, flung a great stone in their midst, uponwhich they began to fight each other, and he easily subdued them all. 

Jason had accomplished his task, but Æetes proved unfaithful to hiswords. He not only withheld the prize, but took steps to kill theArgonauts and burn their vessel. They were invited to a banquet, andarmed men were prepared to murder them during the night after the feast. Fortunately, sleep overcame the treacherous king, and the adventurerswarned of their danger, made ready to fly. But not without the goldenfleece. This was guarded by a dragon, but Medea prepared a potion thatput this perilous sentinel to sleep, seized the fleece, and accompaniedJason in his flight, taking with her on the Argo Absyrtus, her youthfulbrother. 

The Argonauts, seizing their oars, rowed with all haste from the dreadedlocality. Æetes, on awakening, learned with fury of the loss of thefleece and his children, hastily collected an armed force, and pursuedwith such energy that the flying vessel was soon nearly overtaken. Thesafety of the adventurers was again due to Medea, who secured it by aterrible stratagem. This was, to kill her young brother, cut his body topieces, and fling the bleeding fragments into the sea. Æetes, onreaching the scene of this tragedy, recognized these as the remains ofhis murdered son, and sorrowfully stopped to collect them for interment. While he was thus engaged the Argonauts escaped. 

But such a wicked deed was not suffered to go unpunished. Jupiter beheldit with deep indignation, and in requital condemned the Argonauts to along and perilous voyage, full of hardship and adventure. They wereforced to sail over all the watery world of waters, so far as thenknown. Up the river Phasis they rowed until it entered the ocean whichflows round the earth. This vast sea or stream was then followed to thesource of the Nile, down which great river they made their way into theland of Egypt. 

Here, for some reason unknown, they did not follow the Nile to theMediterranean, but were forced to take the ship Argo on their shouldersand carry it by a long overland journey to Lake Tritonis, in Libya. Herethey were overcome by want and exhaustion, but Triton, the god of theregion, proved hospitable, and supplied them with the much-needed foodand rest. Thus refreshed, they launched their ship once more on theMediterranean and proceeded hopefully on their homeward way. 

Stopping at the island of Ææa, its queen Circe--she who had transformedthe companions of Ulysses into swine--purified Medea from the crime ofmurder; and at Corcyra, which they next reached, the marriage of Jasonand Medea took place. The cavern in that island where the wedding wassolemnized was still pointed out in historical times. 

After leaving Corcyra a fierce storm threatened the navigators withshipwreck, from which they were miraculously saved by the celestial aidof the god Apollo. An arrow shot from his golden bow crossed the billowslike a track of light, and where it pierced the waves an island sprangup, on whose shores the imperilled mariners found a port of refuge. Onthis island, Anaphe by name, the grateful Argonauts built an altar toApollo and instituted sacrifices in his honor. 

Another adventure awaited them on the coast of Crete. This island wasprotected by a brazen sentinel, named Talos, wrought by Vulcan, andpresented by him to King Minos to protect his realm. This living man ofbrass hurled great rocks at the vessel, and destruction would haveoverwhelmed the voyagers but for Medea. Talos, like all theinvulnerable men of legend, had his one weak point. This her magic artenabled her to discover, and, as Paris had wounded Achilles in the heel, Medea killed this vigilant sentinel by striking him in his vulnerablespot. 

The Argonauts now landed and refreshed themselves. In the island ofÆgina they had to fight to procure water. Then they sailed along thecoasts of Euboea and Locris, and finally entered the gulf of Pagasæand dropped anchor at Iolceus, their starting-point. 

As to what became of the ship Argo there are two stories. One is thatJason consecrated his vessel to Neptune on the isthmus of Corinth. Another is that Minerva translated it to the stars, where it became aconstellation. 

So ends the story of this earliest of recorded voyages, whose possiblesubstratum of fact is overlaid deeply with fiction, and whose geographyis similarly a strange mixture of fact and fancy. Yet though the voyageis at an end, our story is not. We have said that it was a tragedy, andthe denouement of the tragedy remains to be given. 

Pelias, who had sent Jason on this long voyage to escape the fatedecreed for him by the oracle, took courage from his protracted absence, and put to death his father and mother and his infant brother. Onlearning of this murderous act Jason determined on revenge. But Peliaswas too strong to be attacked openly, so the hero employed a strangestratagem, suggested by the cunning magician Medea. He and hiscompanions halted at some distance from Iolcus, while Medea entered thetown alone, pretending that she was a fugitive from the ill-treatment ofJason. 

Here she was entertained by the daughters of Pelias, over whom shegained great influence by showing them certain magical wonders. In theend she selected an old ram from the king's flocks, cut him up andboiled him in a caldron with herbs of magic power. In the end the animalemerged from the caldron as a young and vigorous lamb. The enchantressnow told her dupes that their old father could in the same way be madeyoung again. Fully believing her, the daughters cut the old man topieces in the same manner, and threw his limbs into the caldron, trusting to Medea to restore him to life as she had the ram. 

Leaving them for the assumed purpose of invoking the moon, as a part ofthe ceremony, Medea ascended to the roof of the palace. Here she lighteda fire-signal to the waiting Argonauts, who instantly burst into andtook possession of the town. 

Having thus revenged himself, Jason yielded the crown of Iolcus to theson of Pelias, and withdrew with Medea to Corinth, where they residedtogether for ten years. And here the final act in the tragedy wasplayed. 

After these ten years of happy married life, during which severalchildren were born, Jason ceased to love his wife, and fixed hisaffections on Glauce, the daughter of King Creon of Corinth. The kingshowed himself willing to give Jason his daughter in marriage, uponwhich the faithless hero divorced Medea, who was ordered to leaveCorinth. He should have known better with whom he had to deal. Theenchantress, indignant at such treatment, determined on revenge. Pretending to be reconciled to the coming marriage, she prepared apoisoned robe, which she sent as a wedding-present to the haplessGlauce. No sooner had the luckless bride put on this perilous gift thanthe robe burst into flames, and she was consumed; while her father, whosought to tear from her the fatal garment, met with the same fate. 

Medea escaped by means of a chariot drawn by winged serpents, sent herby her grandfather Helios (the sun). As the story is told by Euripides, she killed her children before taking to flight, leaving their deadbodies to blast the sight of their horror-stricken father. The legend, however, tells a different tale. It says that she left them for safetybefore the altar in the temple of Juno; and that the Corinthians, furious at the death of their king, dragged the children from the altarand put them to death. As for the unhappy Jason, the story goes that hefell asleep under the ship Argo, which had been hauled ashore accordingto the custom of the ancients, and that a fragment of this ship fellupon and killed him. 

The flight of Medea took her to Athens, where she found a protector andsecond husband in Ægeus, the ruler of that city, and father of Theseus, the great legendary hero of Athens. 

_THESEUS AND ARIADNE. _

Minos, king of Crete in the age of legend, made war against Athens inrevenge for the death of his son. This son, Androgeos by name, had shownsuch strength and skill in the Panathenaic festival that Ægeus, theAthenian king, sent him to fight with the flame-spitting bull ofMarathon, a monstrous creature that was ravaging the plains of Attica. The bull killed the valiant youth, and Minos, furious at the death ofhis son, laid siege to Athens. 

As he proved unable to capture the city, he prayed for aid to his fatherZeus (for, like all the heroes of legend, he was a son of the gods). Zeus sent pestilence and famine on Athens, and so bitter grew the lot ofthe Athenians that they applied to the oracles of the gods for advice intheir sore strait, and were bidden to submit to any terms which Minosmight impose. The terms offered by the offended king of Crete weresevere ones. He demanded that the Athenians should, at fixed periods, send to Crete seven youths and seven maidens, as victims to theinsatiable appetite of the Minotaur. 

This fabulous creature was one of those destructive monsters of whichmany ravaged Greece in the age of fable. It had the body of a man andthe head of a bull, and so great was the havoc it wrought among theCretans that Minos engaged the great artist Dædalus to construct a denfrom which it could not escape. Dædalus built for this purpose theLabyrinth, a far-extending edifice, in which were countless passages, sowinding and intertwining that no person confined in it could ever findhis way out again. It was like the catacombs of Rome, in which one whois lost is said to wander helplessly till death ends his sorrowfulcareer. In this intricate puzzle of a building the Minotaur wasconfined. 

Every ninth year the fourteen unfortunate youths and maidens had to besent from Athens to be devoured by this insatiate beast. We are not toldon what food it was fed in the interval, or why Minos did not end thetrouble by allowing it to starve in its inextricable den. As the storygoes, the living tribute was twice sent, and the third period came dulyround. The youths and maidens to be devoured were selected by lot fromthe people of Athens, and left their city amid tears and woe. But onthis occasion Theseus, the king's son and the great hero of Athens, volunteered to be one of the band, and vowed either to slay the terriblebeast or die in the attempt. 

There seem to have been few great events in those early days of Greecein which Theseus did not take part. Among his feats was the carrying offof Helen, the famous beauty, while still a girl. He then took part in ajourney to the under-world, --the realm of ghosts, --during which Castorand Pollux, the brothers of Helen, rescued and brought her home. He wasalso one of the heroes of the Argonautic expedition and of an expeditionagainst the Amazons, or nation of women warriors; he fought with andkilled a series of famous robbers; and he rid the world of a number ofravaging beasts, --the Calydonian boar, the Crommyonian sow, and theMarathonian bull, the monster which had slain the son of Minos. He was, in truth, the Hercules of ancient Athens, and he now proposed to add tohis exploits a battle for life or death with the perilous Minotaur. 

The hero knew that he had before him the most desperate task of hislife. Even should he slay the monster, he would still be in theintricate depths of the Labyrinth, from which escape was deemedimpossible, and in whose endless passages he and his companions mightwander until they died of weariness and starvation. He prayed, therefore, to Neptune for help, and received a message from the oracleat Delphi to the effect that Aphrodite (or Venus) would aid and rescuehim. 

The ship conveying the victims sailed sadly from Athens, and at lengthreached Crete at the port of Knossus, the residence of King Minos. Herethe woful hostages were led through the streets to the prison in whichthey were to be confined till the next day, when they were to bedelivered to death. As they passed along the people looked with sympathyupon their fair young faces, and deeply lamented their coming fate. And, as Venus willed, among the spectators were Minos and his fair daughterAriadne, who stood at the palace door to see them pass. 

The eyes of the young princess fell upon the face of Theseus, theAthenian prince, and her heart throbbed with a feeling she had neverbefore known. Never had she gazed upon a man who seemed to her half sobrave and handsome as this princely youth. All that night thoughts ofhim drove slumber from her eyes. In the early morning, moved by anew-born love, she sought the prison, and, through her privilege as theking's daughter, was admitted to see the prisoners. Venus was doing thework which the oracle had promised. 

Calling Theseus aside, the blushing maiden told him of her sudden love, and that she ardently longed to save him. If he would follow herdirections he would escape. She gave him a sword, which she had takenfrom her father's armory and concealed beneath her cloak, that he mightbe armed against the devouring beast. And she provided him besides witha ball of thread, bidding him to fasten the end of it to the entrance ofthe Labyrinth, and unwind it as he went in, that it might serve him as aclue to find his way out again. 

As may well be believed, Theseus warmly thanked his lovely visitor, toldher that he was a king's son, and that he returned her love, and beggedher, in case he escaped, to return with him to Athens and be his bride. Ariadne willingly consented, and left the prison before the guards cameto conduct the victims to their fate. It was like the story of Jason andMedea retold. 

With hidden sword and clue Theseus followed the guards, in the midst ofhis fellow-prisoners. They were led into the depths of the Labyrinthand there left to their fate. But the guards had failed to observe thatTheseus had fastened his thread at the entrance and was unwinding theball as he went. And now, in this dire den, for hours the haplessvictims awaited their destiny. Mid-day came, and with it a distant roarfrom the monster reverberated frightfully through the long passages. Nearer came the blood-thirsty brute, his bellowing growing louder as hescented human beings. The trembling victims waited with but a singlehope, and that was in the sword of their valiant prince. At length thecreature appeared, in form a man of giant stature, but with the hornedhead and huge mouth of a bull. 

Battle at once began between the prince and the brute. It soon ended. Springing agilely behind the ravening monster, Theseus, with a swingingstroke of his blade, cut off one of its legs at the knee. As theman-brute fell prone, and lay bellowing with pain, a thrust through theback reached its heart, and all peril from the Minotaur was at an end. 

This victory gained, the task of Theseus was easy. The thread led backto the entrance. By aid of this clue the door of escape was quicklygained. Waiting until night, the hostages left the dreaded Labyrinthunder cover of the darkness. Ariadne was in waiting, the ship wassecretly gained, and the rescued Athenians with their fair companionsailed away, unknown to the king. 

But Theseus proved false to the maiden to whom he owed his life. Stopping at the island of Naxos, which was sacred to Dionysus (orBacchus), the god of wine, he had a dream in which the god bade him todesert Ariadne and sail away. This the faithless swain did, leaving theweeping maiden deserted on the island. Legend goes on to tell us thatthe despair of the lamenting maiden ended in the sleep of exhaustion, and that while sleeping Dionysus found her, and made her his wife. Asfor the dream of Theseus, it was one of those convenient excuses whichtraitors to love never lack. 

Meanwhile, Theseus and his companions sailed on over the summer sea. Reaching the isle of Delos, he offered a sacrifice to Apollo ingratitude for his escape, and there he, and the merry youths and maidenswith him, danced a dance called the Geranus, whose mazy twists and turnsimitated those of the Labyrinth. 

But the faithless swain was not to escape punishment for his basedesertion of Ariadne. He had arranged with his father Ægeus that if heescaped the Minotaur he would hoist white sails in the ship on hisreturn. If he failed, the ship would still wear the black canvas withwhich she had set out on her errand of woe. 

The aged king awaited the returning ship on a high rock that overlookedthe sea. At length it hove in sight, the sails appeared, but--they wereblack. With broken heart the father cast himself from the rock into thesea, --which ever since has been called, from his name, the Ægean Sea. Theseus, absorbed perhaps in thoughts of the abandoned Ariadne, perhapsof new adventures, had forgotten to make the promised change. And thuswas the deserted maiden avenged on the treacherous youth who owed toher his life. 

The ship--or what was believed to be the ship--of Theseus and thehostages was carefully preserved at Athens, down to the time of theMacedonian conquest, being constantly repaired with new timbers, tilllittle of the original ship remained. Every year it was sent to Deloswith envoys to sacrifice to Apollo. Before the ship left port the priestof Apollo decorated her stern with garlands, and during her absence nopublic act of impurity was permitted to take place in the city. Therefore no one could be put to death, and Socrates, who was condemnedat this period of the year, was permitted to live for thirty days untilthe return of the sacred ship. 

There is another legend connected with this story worth telling. Dædalus, the builder of the Labyrinth, at length fell under thedispleasure of Minos, and was confined within the windings of his ownedifice. He had no clue like Theseus, but he had resources in hisinventive skill. Making wings for himself and his son Icarus, the twoflew away from the Labyrinth and their foe. The father safely reachedSicily; but the son, who refused to be governed by his father's wiseadvice, flew so high in his ambitious folly that the sun melted the waxof which his wings were made, and he fell into the sea near the islandof Samos. This from him was named the Icarian Sea. 

There is a political as well as a legendary history of Theseus, --perhapsone no more to be depended upon than the other. It is said that when hebecame king he made Athens supreme over Attica, putting an end to theseparate powers of the tribes which had before prevailed. He is alsosaid to have abolished the monarchy, and replaced it by a government ofthe people, whom he divided into the three classes of nobles, husbandmen, and artisans. He died at length in the island of Scyrus, where he fell or was thrown from the cliffs. Ages later, after thePersian war, the Delphic oracle bade the Athenians to bring back thebones of Theseus from Scyrus, and bury them splendidly in Attic soil. Cimon, the son of Miltiades, found--or pretended to find--the hero'stomb, and returned with the famous bones. They were buried in the heartof Athens, and over them was erected the monument called the Theseium, which became afterwards a place of sanctuary for slaves escaping fromcruel treatment and for all persons in peril. Theseus, who had been thechampion of the oppressed during life, thus became their refuge afterdeath. 

_THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES. _

Among the legendary tales of Greece, none of which are strictly, thoughseveral are perhaps partly, historical, none--after that of Troy--wasmore popular with the ancients than the story of the two sieges ofThebes. This tale had probably in it an historical element, thoughdeeply overlaid with myth, and it was the greatest enterprise of Grecianwar, after that of Troy, during what is called the age of the Heroes. And in it is included one of the most pathetic episodes in the story ofGreece, that of the sisterly affection and tragic fate of Antigone, whose story gave rise to noble dramas by the tragedians Æschylus andSophocles, and is still a favorite with lovers of pathetic lore. 

As a prelude to our story we must glance at the mythical history ofOEdipus, which, like that of his noble daughter, has been celebratedin ancient drama. An oracle had declared that he should kill his father, the king of Thebes. He was, in consequence, brought up in ignorance ofhis parentage, yet this led to the accomplishment of the oracle, for asa youth he, during a roadside squabble, killed his father not knowinghim. For this crime, which had been one of their own devising, the gods, with their usual inconsistency, punished the land of Thebes; afflictingthat hapless country with a terrible monster called the Sphinx, whichhad the face of a woman, the wings of a bird, and the body of a lion. This strangely made-up creature proposed a riddle to the Thebans, whosesolution they were forced to try and give; and on every failure to givethe correct answer she seized and devoured the unhappy aspirant. OEdipus arrived, in ignorance of the fact that he was the son of thelate king. He quickly solved the riddle of the Sphinx, whereupon thatmonster committed suicide, and he was made king. He then married thequeen, --not knowing that she was his own mother. 

[Illustration: OEDIPUS AND ANTIGONE. ]

This celebrated riddle of the Sphinx was not a very difficult one. Itwas as follows: "A being with four feet has two feet and three feet; butits feet vary, and when it has most it is weakest. "

The answer, as given by OEdipus, was "Man, " who

 "First as a babe four-footed creeps on his way, Then, when full age cometh on, and the burden of years weighs full heavy, Bending his shoulders and neck, as a third foot useth his staff. "

When the truth became known--as truth was apt to become known when toolate in old stories--the queen, Jocasta, mad with anguish, hangedherself, and OEdipus, in wild despair, put out his eyes. The gods whohad led him blindly into crime, now handed him over to punishment by theFuries, --the ancient goddesses of vengeance, whose mission it was topursue the criminal with stinging whips. 

The tragic events which followed arose from the curse of the afflictedOEdipus. He had two sons, Polynikes and Eteocles, who twice offendedhim without intention, and whom he, frenzied by his troubles, twicebitterly cursed, praying to the gods that they might perish by eachother's hands. OEdipus afterwards obtained the pardon of the gods forhis involuntary crime, and died in exile, leaving Creon, the brother ofJocasta, on the throne. But though he was dead, his curse kept alive, and brought on new matter of dire moment. 

It began its work in a quarrel between the two sons as to who shouldsucceed their uncle as king of Thebes. Polynikes was in the wrong, andwas forced to leave Thebes, while Eteocles remained. The exiled princesought the court of Adrastus, king of Argos, who gave him his daughterin marriage, and agreed to assist in restoring him to his nativecountry. 

Most of the Argive chiefs joined in the proposed expedition. But themost distinguished of them all, Amphiaraüs, opposed it as unjust andagainst the will of the gods. He concealed himself, lest he should beforced into the enterprise. But the other chiefs deemed his aidindispensable, and bribed his wife, with a costly present, to reveal hishiding-place. Amphiaraüs was thus forced to join the expedition, but hisprophetic power taught him that it would end in disaster to all anddeath to himself, and as a measure of revenge he commanded his sonAlkmæon to kill the faithless woman who had betrayed him, and after hisdeath to organize a second expedition against Thebes. 

Seven chiefs led the army, one to assail each of the seven celebratedgates of Thebes. Onward they marched against that strong city, heedlessof the hostile portents which they met on their way. The Thebans alsosought the oracle of the gods, and were told that they should bevictorious, but only on the dread condition that Creon's son, Menoeceus, should sacrifice himself to Mars. The devoted youth, onlearning that the safety of his country depended on his life, forthwithkilled himself before the city gates, --thus securing by innocent bloodthe powerful aid of the god of war. 

Long and strenuous was the contest that succeeded, each of the heroesfiercely attacking the gate adjudged to him. But the gods were on theside of the Thebans and every assault proved in vain. Parthenopæus, oneof the seven, was killed by a stone, and another, Capaneus, whilefuriously mounting the walls from a scaling-ladder, was slain by athunderbolt cast by Jupiter, and fell dead to the earth. 

The assailants, terrified by this portent, drew back, and were pursuedby the Thebans, who issued from their gates. But the battle that wasabout to take place on the open plain was stopped by Eteocles, whoproposed to settle it by a single combat with his brother Polynikes, thevictory to be given to the side whose champion succeeded in this mortalduel. Polynikes, filled with hatred of his brother, eagerly acceptedthis challenge. Adrastus, the leader of the assailing army, assented, and the unholy combat began. 

Never was a more furious combat than that between the hostile brothers. Each was exasperated to bitter hatred of the other, and they fought witha violence and desperation that could end only in the death of one ofthe combatants. As it proved, the curse of OEdipus was in the keepingof the gods, and both fell dead, --the fate for which their aged fatherhad prayed. But the duel had decided nothing, and the two armies renewedthe battle. 

And now death and bloodshed ran riot; men fell by hundreds; deeds ofheroic valor were achieved on either side; feats of individual daringwere displayed like those which Homer sings in the story of Troy. Butthe battle ended in the defeat of the assailants. Of the seven leadersonly two survived, and one of these, Amphiaraüs, was about to suffer thefate he had foretold, when Jupiter rescued him from death by a miracle. The earth opened beneath him, and he, with his chariot and horses, wasreceived unhurt into her bosom. Rendered immortal by the king of thegods, he was afterwards worshipped as a god himself. 

Adrastus, the only remaining chief, was forced to fly, and was preservedby the matchless speed of his horse. He reached Argos in safety, butbrought with him nothing but "his garment of woe and his black-manedsteed. "

Thus ended, in defeat and disaster to the assailants, the first of thecelebrated sieges of Thebes. It was followed by a tragic episode whichremains to be told, that of the sisterly fidelity of Antigone and hersorrowful fate. Her story, which the dramatists have made immortal, isthus told in the legend. 

After the repulse of his foes, King Creon caused the body of Eteoclesto be buried with the highest honors; but that of Polynikes was castoutside the gates as the corpse of a traitor, and death was threatenedto any one who should dare to give it burial. This cruel edict, which noone else ventured to ignore, was set aside by Antigone, the sister ofPolynikes. This brave maiden, with warm filial affection, hadaccompanied her blind father during his exile to Attica, and was nowreturned to Thebes to perform another holy duty. Funeral rites were heldby the Greeks to be essential to the repose of the dead, and Antigone, despite Creon's edict, determined that her brother's body should not beleft to the dogs and vultures. Her sister, though in sympathy with herpurpose, proved too timid to help her. No other assistance was to behad. But not deterred by this, she determined to perform the act alone, and to bury the body with her own hands. 

In this act of holy devotion Antigone succeeded; Polynikes was buried. But the sentinels whom Creon had posted detected her in the act, and shewas seized and dragged before the tribunal of the tyrant. Here shedefended her action with an earnestness and dignity that should havegained her release, but Creon was inflexible in his anger. She had setat naught his edict, and should suffer the penalty for her crime. Hecondemned her to be buried alive. 

Sophocles, the dramatist, puts noble words into the mouth of Antigone. This is her protest against the tyranny of the king:

 "No ordinance of man shall override The settled laws of Nature and of God; Not written these in pages of a book, Nor were they framed to-day, nor yesterday; We know not whence they are; but this we know, That they from all eternity have been, And shall to all eternity endure. "

And when asked by Creon why she had dared disobey the laws, she noblyreplied, --

 "Not through fear Of any man's resolve was I prepared Before the gods to bear the penalty Of sinning against these. That I should die I knew (how should I not?) though thy decree Had never spoken. And before my time If I shall die, I reckon this a gain; For whoso lives, as I, in many woes, How can it be but he shall gain by death?"

At the king's command the unhappy maiden was taken from his presence andthrust into a sepulchre, where she was condemned to perish in hunger andloneliness. But Antigone was not without her advocate. She had alover, --almost the only one in Greek literature. Hæmon, the son ofCreon, to whom her hand had been promised in marriage, and who loved herdearly, appeared before his father and earnestly interceded for herlife. Not on the plea of his love, --such a plea would have had no weightwith a Greek tribunal, --but on those of mercy and justice. His plea wasvain; Creon was obdurate: the unhappy lover left his presence and soughtAntigone's living tomb, where he slew himself at the feet of his love, already dead. His mother, on learning of his fatal act, also killedherself by her own hand, and Creon was left alone to suffer theconsequences of his unnatural act. 

The story goes on to relate that Adrastus, with the disconsolate mothersof the fallen chieftains, sought the hero Theseus at Athens, and beggedhis aid in procuring the privilege of interment for the slain warriorswhose bodies lay on the plain of Thebes. The Thebans persisting in theirrefusal to permit burial, Theseus at length led an army against them, defeated them in the field, and forced them to consent that their fallenfoes should be interred, that last privilege of the dead which wasdeemed so essential by all pious Greeks. The tomb of the chieftains wasshown near Eleusis within late historical times. 

But the Thebans were to suffer another reverse. The sons of the slainchieftains raised an army, which they placed under the leadership ofAdrastus, and demanded to be led against Thebes. Alkmæon, the son ofAmphiaraüs, who had been commanded to revenge him, played the mostprominent part in the succeeding war. As this new expedition marched, the gods, which had opposed the former with hostile signs, now showedtheir approval with favorable portents. Adherents joined them on theirmarch. At the river Glisas they were met by a Theban army, and a battlewas fought, which ended in a complete victory over the Theban foe. Aprophet now declared to the Thebans that the gods were against them, andadvised them to surrender the city. This they did, flying themselves, with their wives and children, to the country of the Illyrians, andleaving their city empty to the triumphant foe. The Epigoni, as theyouthful victors were called, marched in at the head of their forces, took possession, and placed Thersander, the son of Polynikes, on thethrone. And thus ends the famous old legend of the two sieges of Thebes. 

_LYCURGUS AND THE SPARTAN LAWS. _

Of the many nations between which the small peninsula of Greece wasdivided, much the most interesting were those whose chief cities wereAthens and Sparta. These are the states with whose doings history isfull, and without which the history of ancient Greece would be littlemore interesting to us than the history of ancient China and Japan. Notwo cities could have been more opposite in character and institutionsthan these, and they were rivals of each other for the dominant powerthrough centuries of Grecian history. In Athens freedom of thought andfreedom of action prevailed. Such complete political equality of thecitizens has scarcely been known elsewhere upon the earth, and theintellectual activity of these citizens stands unequalled. In Spartafreedom of thought and action were both suppressed to a degree rarelyknown, the most rigid institutions existed, and the only activity was awarlike one. All thought and all education had war for their object, andthe state and city became a compact military machine. This condition wasthe result of a remarkable code of laws by which Sparta was governed, the most peculiar and surprising code which any nation has everpossessed. It is this code, and Lycurgus, to whom Sparta owed it, withwhich we are now concerned. 

First, who was Lycurgus and in what age did he live? Neither of thesequestions can be closely answered. Though his laws are historical, hisbiography is legendary. He is believed to have lived somewhere about 800or 900 B. C. , that age of legend and fable in which Homer lived, and whatwe know about him is little more to be trusted than what we know aboutthe great poet. The Greeks had stories of their celebrated men of thisremote age, but they were stories with which imagination often had moreto do than fact, and though we may enjoy them, it is never quite safe tobelieve them. 

As for the very uncertain personage named Lycurgus, we are told byHerodotus, the Greek historian, that when he was born the Spartans werethe most lawless of the Greeks. Every man was a law unto himself, andconfusion, tumult, and injustice everywhere prevailed. Lycurgus, a nobleSpartan, sad at heart for the misery of his country, applied to theoracle at Delphi, and received instructions as to how he should act tobring about a better state of affairs. 

Plutarch, who tells so many charming stories about the ancient Greeksand Romans, gives us the following account. According to him the brotherof Lycurgus was king of Sparta. When he died Lycurgus was offered thethrone, but he declined the honor and made his infant nephew, Charilaus, king. Then he left Sparta, and travelled through Crete, Ionia, Egypt, and several more remote countries, everywhere studying the laws andcustoms which he found prevailing. In Ionia he obtained a copy of thepoems of Homer, and is said by some to have met and conversed with Homerhimself. If, as is supposed, the Greeks of that age had not the art ofwriting, he must have carried this copy in his memory. 

On his return home from this long journey Lycurgus found his country ina worse state than before. Sparta, it may be well here to say, hadalways two kings; but it found, as might have been expected, that twokings were worse than one, and that this odd device in government neverworked well. At any rate, Lycurgus found that law had nearly vanished, and that disorder had taken its place. He now consulted the oracle atDelphi, and was told that the gods would support him in what he proposedto do. 

Coming back to Sparta, he secretly gathered a body-guard of thirty armedmen from among the noblest citizens, and then presented himself in theAgora, or place of public assembly, announcing that he had come to endthe disorders of his native land. King Charilaus at first heard of thiswith terror, but on learning what his uncle intended, he offered hissupport. Most of the leading men of Sparta did the same. Lycurgus was tothem a descendant of the great hero Hercules, he was the most learnedand travelled of their people, and the reforms he proposed were sadlyneeded in that unhappy land. 

These reforms were of two kinds. He desired to reform both thegovernment and society. We shall deal first with the new governmentwhich he instituted. The two kings were left unchanged. But under themwas formed a senate of twenty-eight members, to whom the kings werejoined, making thirty in all. The people also were given theirassemblies, but they could not debate any subject, all the power theyhad was to accept or reject what the senate had decreed. At a later datefive men, called ephors, were selected from the people, into whose handsfell nearly all the civil power, so that the kings had little more to dothan to command the army and lead it to war. The kings, however, were atthe head of the religious establishment of the country, and wererespected by the people as descendants of the gods. 

The government of Sparta thus became an aristocracy or oligarchy. Theephors came from the people, and were appointed in their interest, butthey came to rule the state so completely that neither the kings, thesenate, nor the assembly had much voice in the government. Such was theoutgrowth of the governmental institutions of Lycurgus. 

It is the civil laws made by Lycurgus, however, which are of mostinterest, and in which Sparta differed from all other states. The peopleof Laconia, the country of which Sparta was the capital, were composedof two classes. That country had originally been conquered by theSpartans, and the ancient inhabitants, who were known as Helots, wereheld as slaves by their Spartan conquerors. They tilled the ground toraise food for the citizens, who were all soldiers, and whose whole lifeand thought were given to keeping the Helots in slavery and to warlikeactivity. That they might make the better soldiers, Lycurgus formed lawsto do away with all luxury and inequality of conditions, and to train upthe young under a rigid system of discipline to the use of weapons andthe arts of war. The Helots, also, were often employed as light-armedsoldiers, and there was always danger that they might revolt againsttheir oppressors, a fact which made constant discipline and vigilancenecessary to the Spartan citizens. 

Lycurgus found great inequality in the state. A few owned all the land, and the remainder were poor. The rich lived in luxury; the poor werereduced to misery and want. He divided the whole territory of Spartainto nine thousand equal lots, one of which was given to each citizen. The territory of the remainder of Laconia was divided into thirtythousand equal lots, one of which was given to each Perioecus. (ThePerioeci were the freemen of the country outside of the Spartan cityand district, and did not possess the full rights of citizenship. )

This measure served to equalize wealth. But further to prevent luxury, Lycurgus banished all gold and silver from the country, and forced thepeople to use iron money, --each piece so heavy that none would care tocarry it. He also forbade the citizens to have anything to do withcommerce or industry. They were to be soldiers only, and the Helots wereto supply them with food. As for commerce, since no other state wouldaccept their iron money, they had to depend on themselves foreverything they needed. The industries of Laconia were kept strictly athome. 

To these provisions Lycurgus added another of remarkable character. Noone was allowed to take his meals at home. Public tables were provided, at which all must eat, every citizen being forced to belong to somespecial public mess. Each had to supply his quota of food, such asbarley, wine, cheese, and figs from his land, game obtained by hunting, or the meat of the animals killed for sacrifices. At these tables allshared alike. The kings and the humblest citizens were on an equality. No distinction was permitted except to those who had rendered somesignal service to the state. 

This public mess was not accepted without protest. Those who were usedto luxurious living were not ready to be brought down to such simplefare, and a number of these attacked Lycurgus in the market-place, andwould have stoned him to death had he not run briskly for his life. Asit was, one of his pursuers knocked out his eye. But, such was hiscontent at his success, that he dedicated his last eye to the gods, building a temple to the goddess Athené of the Eye. At these publictables black broth was the most valued dish, the elder men eating it inpreference, and leaving the meat to their younger messmates. 

The houses of the Spartans were as plain as they could well be made, andas simple in furniture as possible, while no lights were permitted atbedtime, it being designed that every one should become accustomed towalking boldly in the dark. This, however, was but a minor portion ofthe Spartan discipline. Throughout life, from boyhood to old age, everyone was subjected to the most rigorous training. From seven years of agethe drill continued, and everyone was constantly being trained or seeingothers under training. The day was passed in public exercises and publicmeals, the nights in public barracks. Married Spartans rarely saw theirwives--during the first years of marriage--and had very little to dowith their children; their whole lives were given to the state, and theslavery of the Helots to them was not more complete than their slaveryto military discipline. 

They were not only drilled in the complicated military movements whichtaught a body of Spartan soldiers to act as one man, but also hadincessant gymnastic training, so as to make them active, strong, andenduring. They were taught to bear severe pain unmoved, to endure heatand cold, hunger and thirst, to walk barefoot on rugged ground, to wearthe same garment summer and winter, to suppress all display of feeling, and in public to remain silent and motionless until action was calledfor. 

Two companies were often matched against each other, and these contestswere carried on with fury, fists and feet taking the place of arms. Hunting in the woods and mountains was encouraged, that they might learnto bear fatigue. The boys were kept half fed, that they might be forcedto provide for themselves by hunting or stealing. The latter wasdesigned to make them cunning and skilful, and if detected in the actthey were severely punished. The story is told that one boy who hadstolen a fox and hidden it under his garment, permitted the animal totear him open with claws and teeth, and died rather than reveal histheft. 

One might say that he would rather have been born a girl than a boy inSparta; but the girls were trained almost as severely as the boys. Theywere forced to contend with each other in running, wrestling, andboxing, and to go through other gymnastic exercises calculated to makethem strong and healthy. They marched in the religious processions, sungand danced at festivals, and were present at the exercises of theyouths. Thus boys and girls were continually mingled, and the praise orreproach of the latter did much to stimulate their brothers and friendsto the utmost exertion. 

As a result of all this the Spartans became strong, vigorous, andhandsome in form and face. The beauty of their women was everywherecelebrated. The men became unequalled for soldierly qualities, able tobear the greatest fatigue and privation, and to march great distances ina brief time, while on the field of battle they were taught to conqueror to die, a display of cowardice or flight from the field being alifelong disgrace. 

Such were the main features of the most singular set of laws any nationever had, the best fitted to make a nation of soldiers, and also toprevent intellectual progress in any other direction than the single oneof war-making. Even eloquence in speech was discouraged, and a brief orlaconic manner sedulously cultivated. But while all this had itsadvantages, it had its defects. The number of citizens decreased insteadof increasing. At the time of the Persian war there were eight thousandof them. At a late date there were but seven hundred, of whom onehundred possessed most of the land. Whether Lycurgus really divided theland equally or not is doubtful. At any rate, in time the land fell intoa few hands, the poor increased in number, and the people steadily diedout; while the public mess, so far as the rich were concerned, became amere form. 

But we need not deal with these late events, and must go back to thestory told of Lycurgus. It is said that when he had completed his codeof laws, he called together an assembly of the people, told them that hewas going on a journey, and asked them to swear that they would obey hislaws till he returned. This they agreed to do, the kings, the senate, and the people all taking the oath. 

Then the law-giver went to Delphi, where he offered a sacrifice toApollo, and asked the oracle if the laws he had made were good. Theoracle answered that they were excellent, and would bring the people thegreatest fame. This answer he had put into writing and sent to Sparta, for he had resolved to make his oath binding for all time by neverreturning. So the old man starved himself to death. 

The Spartans kept their oath. For five hundred years their citycontinued one of the chief cities of Greece, and their army the mostwarlike and dreaded of the armies of the earth. As for Lycurgus, hiscountrymen worshipped him as a god, and imputed to him all that wasnoble in their institutions and excellent in their laws. But time bringsits inevitable changes, and these famous institutions in time decayed, while the people perished from over-strict discipline or other causestill but a small troop of Spartans remained, too weak in numbers fairlyto control the Helots of their fields. 

In truth, the laws of Lycurgus were unnatural, and in the end could butfail. They were framed to make one-sided men, and only whole men canlong succeed. Human nature will have its way, and luxury and corruptioncrept into Sparta despite these laws. Nor did the Spartans prove braveror more successful in war than the Athenians, whose whole nature wasdeveloped, and who were alike great in literature, art, and war. 

_ARISTOMENES, THE HERO OF MESSENIA. _

We have told by what means the Spartans grew to be famous warriors. Wehave now to tell one of the ancient stories of how they used theirwarlike prowess to extend their dominions. Laconia, their country, wassituated in the southeast section of the Peloponnesus, that southernpeninsula which is attached to the remainder of Greece by the narrowneck of land known as the Isthmus of Corinth. Their capital city wasanciently called Lacedæmon; it was later known as Sparta. In consequencethey are called in history both Spartans and Lacedæmonians. 

In the early history of the Spartans they did not trouble themselvesabout Northern Greece. They had enough to occupy them in thePeloponnesus. As the Romans, in after-time, spent their early centuriesin conquering the small nations immediately around them, so did theSpartans. And the first wars of this nation of soldiers seem to havebeen with Messenia, a small country west of Laconia, and extending likeit southward into the blue waters of the Mediterranean Sea. 

There were two wars with the Messenians, both full of stories of daringand disaster, but it is the second of these with which we are speciallyconcerned, that in which the hero Aristomenes won his fame. We shallnot ask our readers to believe all that is told about this ancientchampion. Much of it is very doubtful. But the war in which he took partwas historical, and the conquest of Messenia was the first great eventin Spartan history. 

Now for the story itself. In the first Messenian war, which was foughtmore than seven hundred years B. C. , the leader of the Messenians wasnamed Aristodemus. A quarrel had arisen between the two nations duringsome sacrifices on their border lands. The Spartans had laid a snare fortheir neighbors by dressing some youths as maidens and arming them withdaggers. They attacked the Messenians, but were defeated, and theSpartan king was slain. 

In the war that ensued the Messenians in time found themselves in severestraits, and followed the plan that seems to have been common throughoutGrecian history. They sent to Delphi to ask aid and advice from theoracle of Apollo. And the oracle gave them one of its often cruel andalways uncertain answers; saying that if they would be successful avirgin of the house of Æpytus must die for her country. To fulfil thiscruel behest Aristodemus, who was of that ancient house, killed hisdaughter with his own hand, --much as Agamemnon had sacrificed hisdaughter before sailing for Troy. 

Aristodemus afterwards became king, and had a stirring and tragichistory, which was full of portents and prodigies. Thus an old blindprophet suddenly recovered his sight, --which the Messenians looked uponto mean something, though it is not clear what. A statue of Artemis (orDiana) let fall its brazen shield; which meant something more, --probablythat the fastenings had given way; but the ancients looked on it as aportent. Then the ghost of his murdered daughter appeared toAristodemus, pointed to her wounded side, stripped off his armor, placedon his head a crown of gold and on his body a white robe, --a sign ofdeath. So, as it seemed evident that he had mistaken the oracle, andkilled his daughter without saving his country, he did the only thingthat remained for him: he went to her grave and killed himself. And withthis tragedy ends all we need to tell about the first champion ofMessenia. 

The war ended in the conquest of Messenia by the Spartans. The conqueredpeople were very harshly treated by the conquerors, being forced to payas tribute half the produce of their fields, and to humble themselvesbefore their haughty masters. As a result, about fifty years afterwards, they broke out into rebellion, and a second Messenian war began. 

This war lasted for many years, the Messenians being led by a valianthero named Aristomenes, who performed startling exploits and mademarvellous escapes. Three great battles took place, with various resultsand three times Aristomenes made a remarkable sacrifice to the king ofthe gods. This was called the Hekatomphonia, and could only be offeredby one who had slain, with his own hands, one hundred enemies in battle. 

But great battles were not all. There were years of guerilla warfare. At the head of a band of brave followers Aristomenes made his way morethan once to the very heart of Laconia, surprised two of its cities, andon one occasion ventured into Sparta itself by night. Here he boldlyentered the temple of Athené of the Brazen House and hung up his shieldthere as a mark of defiance to his enemies, placing on it an inscriptionwhich said that Aristomenes presented it as an offering from Spartanspoil. 

The Messenian maidens crowned their hero with garlands, and dancedaround him, singing a war strain in honor of his victories over hisfoes. Yet he found the Spartans vigorous and persistent enemies, and inspite of all his victories was forced at length to take refuge in themountain fastnesses, where he held out against his foes for elevenyears. 

We do not know all the adventures of this famous champion, but are toldthat he was taken prisoner three times by his enemies. Twice he mademarvellous escapes while they were conveying him to Sparta. On the thirdoccasion he was less fortunate. His foes bore him in triumph to theircapital city, and here he was condemned to be cast from Mount Taygetusinto the Keadas, a deep rock cavity into which they flung theircriminals. 

Fifty Messenian prisoners suffered the same fate and were all killed;but the gods, so we are told, came to their leader's aid. The legendsays that an eagle took Aristomenes on its outspread wings, and landedhim safely in the bottom of the pit. More likely the bodies of theformer victims broke his fall. Seeing no possible way out from the deepcavity, he wrapped himself in his cloak, and resigned himself to die. But, while thus lying, he saw a fox prowling among the dead bodies, andquestioned himself how it had found its way into the pit. When it camenear him he grasped its tail, defending himself from its bites by meansof his cloak. Holding fast, he followed the fox to the aperture by whichit had entered, enlarged it so that he could creep out, and soonappeared alive again in the field, to the surprise of his friends andthe consternation of his foes. 

Being seized again by some Cretan bowmen, he was rescued by a maiden, who dreamed that wolves had brought into the city a chained lion, bereftof its claws, and that she had given it claws and set it free. When shesaw Aristomenes among his captors, she believed that her dream had cometrue, and that the gods desired her to set him free. This she did bymaking his captors drunk, and giving him a dagger with which he cut hisbonds. The indiscreet bowmen were killed by the warrior, while theescaped hero rewarded the maiden by making her the wife of his son. 

But Messenia was doomed by the gods, and no man could avert its fate. The oracle of Delphi declared that if the he-goat (Tragos) should drinkthe waters of the Neda, the god could no longer defend that fatedcountry. And now a fig-tree sprang up on the banks of the Neda, and, instead of spreading its branches aloft, let them droop till theytouched the waters of the stream. This a seer announced as thefulfillment of the oracle, for in the Messenian language the fig-treewas called _Tragos_. 

Aristomenes now, discouraged by the decree of the gods, and findinghimself surrounded, through treachery, by his enemies in his mountainstronghold, decided to give up the hopeless struggle. He broke fiercelythrough the ranks of his assailants with his sons and followers, andleft his country to the doom which the gods had decreed. 

The end of his career, like its earlier events, was, according to thelegend, under the control of the deities. Damagetes, the king of theisland of Rhodes, had been told by an oracle that he must marry thebravest of the Hellenes (or Greeks). Believing that Aristomenes had thebest claim to this proud title, he asked him for the hand of hisdaughter in marriage, and offered him a home in his island realm. Aristomenes consented, and spent the remainder of his days in Rhodes. From his daughter descended the illustrious family of the Diagoridæ. 

This romantic story of the far past resembles those of King Alfred ofEngland, of Wallace and Bruce of Scotland, and of other heroes who havedefended their countries single-handed against a powerful foe. But weare not done with it yet. There is another singular and interestingepisode to be told, --a legend, no doubt, but one which has almost passedinto history. 

The story goes that the Spartans, losing heart at the success of theMessenians in the early years of the war, took the usual method thenadopted, and sent to the oracle at Delphi for advice. The oracle toldthem to apply to Athens for a leader. They did so, sending an embassy tothat city; and in response to the oracle the Athenians sent them a lameschoolmaster named Tyrtæus. They did not dare to resist the command ofthe god, but they had no desire to render any actual aid to theSpartans. 

However, Apollo seems to have been wiser than the Athenians. The lameschoolmaster was an able poet as well, and on reaching Sparta hecomposed a series of war-songs which so inspirited the army that theymarched away to victory. Tyrtæus was probably not only an able poet;very likely he also gave the Spartans good advice in the conduct of thewar, and though he did not lead their armies, he animated them by hissongs and aided them with his advice until victory followed their careerof defeat. 

For many years afterwards the war-songs of Tyrtæus remained highlypopular at Sparta, and some of them have come down to our own days. Asfor the actual history of this war, most of what we know seems to havebeen written by Tyrtæus, who was thus not only the poet but thehistorian of the Messenian wars. 

_SOLON, THE LAW-GIVER OF ATHENS. _

We have told how Sparta came to have an aristocratic government, underthe laws of Lycurgus. We have now to tell how Athens came to have ademocratic government, under the laws of Solon. These formed the typesof government for later Greece, some of whose nations becamearistocracies, following the example of Sparta; others becamedemocracies, and formed their governments on the model of that ofAthens. 

As before Lycurgus the Spartan commonwealth was largely without law, sowas Athens before Solon. In those days the people of Attica--of whichAthens was the capital city--were divided into three factions, --therich, the middle class, and the poor. As for the poor, they were in acondition of misery, being loaded down with debt, and many of them in astate of slavery to the rich, who owned nearly all the land. 

At that period what law existed was very severe against debtors. Thedebtor became the slave of his creditor, and was held in this stateuntil he could pay his debt, either in money or in labor. And not onlyhe, but his younger sons and his unmarried daughters and sisters, werereduced to slavery. Through the action of this severe law many of thepoor of Attica were owned as slaves, many had been sold as slaves, somehad kept their freedom only by selling their own children, and some hadfled from the country to escape slavery. And this, too, had arisen inmany cases through injustice in the courts and corruption of the judges. 

In the time of Solon the misery and oppression from these laws became sogreat that there was a general mutiny of the poor against the rich. Theyrefused to submit to the unjust enactments of their rulers, and thestate fell into such frightful disorder that the governing class, nolonger able to control the people, were obliged to call Solon to theiraid. 

Solon did not belong to the rich men of Athens, though he was of noblebirth, and, like so many of the older Greeks, traced his family lineback to the gods. Neptune, the ocean deity, was fabled to be his far-offancestor. He was born about 638 B. C. His father had spent most of hismoney, largely in kind deeds to others, and the son found himselfobliged to become a merchant. In this pursuit he travelled in many partsof Greece and Asia, and in his journeys paid more heed to the gaining ofknowledge than of money, so that when he came back his mind was fullerthan his purse. Men who seek wisdom rarely succeed in gaining muchmoney, but Solon's story goes to show that wisdom is far the better ofthe two, and that a rich mind is of more value than a rich purse. Whenhe returned to Attica he gained such fame as a poet and a man oflearning and wisdom that he has ever since been classed as one of theSeven Wise Men of Greece. 

Of these wise men the following story is told. Some fishermen of Coscast their net into the sea, and brought up in its meshes a goldentripod, which the renowned Helen had thrown into the sea during herreturn from Troy. A dispute arose as to whom the tripod should belongto. Several cities were ready to go to war about it. To preventbloodshed the oracle of Apollo was applied to, and answered that itshould be sent to the wisest man that could be found. 

It was at first sent to Thales of Miletus, a man famous for wisdom. Buthe decided that Bias of Priene was wiser than he, and sent it to him. And thus it went the round of the seven wise men, --Solon among them, sowe are told, --and finally came back to Thales. He refused to keep it, and placed it in the temple of Apollo at Thebes. 

An evidence alike of Solon's wisdom, shrewdness, and political skillarose in the war for the island of Salamis, which adjoined the twostates of Megara and Attica, and for whose possession they were at war. After the Athenians had been at great loss of men and money in thisconflict, Megara gained the island, and the people of Athens became sodisgusted with the whole affair that a law was passed declaring that anyman who spoke or wrote again about the subject should be put to death. 

This Solon held to be a stain on the honor of Athens. He did not care tolose his life by breaking the law, but was not content that his countryshould rest under the stigma of defeat, and should yield so valuable aprize. He accordingly had it given out that he had gone mad; and inpretended insanity he rushed into the public square, mounted theherald's stone, and repeated a poem he had composed for the occasion, recalling vividly to the people the disgrace of their late defeat. Hisstirring appeal so wrought upon their feelings that the law wasrepealed, war was declared, and Solon was placed in command of the army. 

Megara sent out a ship to watch the proceedings, but this was seized bySolon's fleet and manned by part of his force. The remainder of his menwere landed and marched towards the city of Salamis, on which they madean assault. While this was going on, Solon sailed up with the ship hehad captured. The Megarians, thinking it to be their own ship, permittedit to enter the port, and the city was taken by surprise. Salamis, thuswon, continued to belong to Athens till those late days when Philip ofMacedon conquered Greece. 

To Solon, now acknowledged to be the wisest and most famous of theAthenians, the tyrants who had long misruled Athens turned, when theyfound the people in rebellion against their authority. In the year 594B. C. He was chosen archon, or ruler of the state, and was given fullpower to take such measures as were needed to put an end to thedisorders. Probably these autocrats supposed that he would help them tocontinue in power; but, if so, they did not know the man with whom theyhad to deal. 

Solon might easily have made himself a despot, if he had chosen, --allthe states of Greece being then under the rule of despots or oftyrannical aristocrats. But he was too honest and too wise for this. Heset himself earnestly to overcome the difficulties which lay before him. And he did this with a radical hand. In truth, the people were in nomood for any but radical measures. 

The enslaved debtors were at once set free. All contracts in which theperson or the land of the debtor had been given as security werecancelled. No future contract under which a citizen could be enslaved orimprisoned for debt was permitted. All past claims against the land ofAttica were cancelled, and the mortgage pillars removed. (These pillarswere set up at the boundaries of the land, and had the lender's name andthe amount of the debt cut into the stone. )

But as many of the creditors were themselves in debt to richer men, andas Solon's laws left them poor, he adopted a measure for their relief. This was to lower the value of the money of the state. The old silverdrachmas were replaced by new drachmas, of which seventy-three equalledone hundred of the old. Debtors were thus able to pay their debts at adiscount of twenty-seven per cent. , and the great loss fell on the rich;and justly so, for most of them had gained their wealth throughdishonesty and oppression. Lastly, Solon made full citizens of all fromwhom political rights had been taken, except those who had beencondemned for murder or treason. 

This was a bold measure. And, like such bold measures generally, it didinjustice to many. But the evil was temporary, the good permanent. Itput an end to much injustice, and no such condition as had prevailedever again arose in Athens. The government of the aristocracy came to anend under Solon's laws. From that time forward Athens grew more and morea government of the people. 

The old assembly of the people existed then, but all its power had beentaken from it. Solon gave back to it the right of voting and of passinglaws. But he established a council of four hundred men, elected annuallyby the people, whose duty it was to consider the business upon which theassembly was to act. And the assembly could only deal with business thatwas brought before it by this council. 

The assemblies of the people took place on the Pnyx, a hill thatoverlooked the city, and from which could be seen the distant sea. Atits right stood the Acropolis, that famous hill on which the noblest oftemples were afterwards built. Between these two hills rose theAreopagus, on which the Athenian supreme court held its sessions. TheAthenians loved to do their business in the open air, and, whilediscussing questions of law and justice, delighted in the broad viewbefore them of the temples, the streets, and the crowded marts of tradeof the city, and the shining sea, with its white-sailed craft, afar inthe sunny distance. 

Solon's laws went further than we have said. He divided the people intofour ranks or divisions, according to their wealth in land. The richermen were, the more power they were given in the state. But at the sametime they had to pay heavier taxes, so that their greater authority wasnot an unmixed blessing. The lowest class, composed of the poorestcitizens, had no taxes at all to pay, and no power in the state, otherthan the right to vote in the assembly. When called out as soldiers armswere furnished them, while the other classes had to buy their own arms. 

Various other laws were made by Solon. The old law against crime, established long before by Draco, had made death the penalty for everycrime, from murder to petty theft. This severe law was repealed, and thepunishment made to agree with the crime. Minor laws were these: Theliving could not speak evil of the dead. No person could draw more thana fixed quantity of water daily from the public wells. People who raisedbees must not have their hives too near those of their neighbors. It wasfixed how women should dress, and they were forbidden to scratch or tearthemselves at funerals. They had to carry baskets of a fixed size whenthey went abroad. A dog that bit anybody had to be delivered up with alog four feet and a half long tied to its neck. Such were some of thelaws which the council swore to maintain, each member vowing that if hebroke any of them he would dedicate a golden statue as large as himselfto Apollo, at Delphi. 

Having founded his laws, Solon, fearing that he would be forced to makechanges in them, left Athens, having bound the people by oath to keepthem for ten years, during which time he proposed to be absent. 

From Athens he set sail for Egypt, and in that ancient realm talked longwith two learned priests about the old history of the land. Among thestories they told him was a curious one about a great island namedAtlantis, far in the western ocean, against which Athens had waged warnine thousand years before, and which had afterwards sunk under theAtlantic's waves. It was one of those fanciful legends of which the pasthad so great a store. 

From Egypt he went to Cyprus, where he dwelt long and made usefulchanges. He is also said to have visited, at Sardis, Croesus, the kingof Lydia, a monarch famous for his wealth and good fortune. About thisvisit a pretty moral story is told. It is probably not true, being afiction of the ancient story-tellers, but, fiction or not, it is wellworth the telling. 

Croesus had been so fortunate in war that he had made his kingdomgreat and prosperous, while he was esteemed the richest monarch of histimes. He lodged Solon in his palace and had his servants show him allthe treasures which he had gained. He then, conversing with his visitor, praised him for his wisdom, and asked him whom he deemed to be thehappiest of men. 

He expected an answer flattering to his vanity, but Solon simplyreplied, --

"Tellus, of Athens. "

"And why do you deem Tellus the happiest?" demanded Croesus. 

Solon gave as his reason that Tellus lived in comfort and had good andbeautiful sons, who also had good children; and that he died in gallantdefence of his country, and was buried by his countrymen with thehighest honors. 

"And whom do you give the second place in happiness?" asked Croesus. 

"Cleobis and Bito, " answered Solon. "These were men of the Argive race, who had fortune enough for their wants, and were so strong as to gainprizes at the Games. "

"But their special title to happiness was, " continued Solon, "that in afestival to the goddess Juno, at Argos, their mother wished to go in acar. As the oxen did not return in time from the fields, the youths, fearing to be late, yoked themselves to the car, and drew their motherto the temple, forty-five furlongs away. This filial deed gained themthe highest praise from the people, while their mother prayed thegoddess to bestow upon them the highest blessing to which mortals canattain. After her prayer, the youths offered sacrifices, partook of theholy banquet, and fell asleep in the temple. They never woke again! Thiswas the blessing of the goddess. "

"What, " cried Croesus, angrily, "is my happiness, then, of so littlevalue to you that you put me on a level with private men like these?"

"You are very rich, Croesus, " answered Solon, "and are lord of manynations. But remember that you have many days yet to live, and that anysingle day in a man's life may yield events that will change all hisfortune. As to whether you are supremely happy and fortunate, then, Ihave no answer to make. I cannot speak for your happiness till I know ifyour life has a happy _ending_. "[1]

Solon, having completed his travels, returned to Athens to find it inturmoil. Pisistratus, a political adventurer and a favorite with thepeople, had gained despotic power by a cunning trick. He woundedhimself, and declared that he had been attacked and wounded by hispolitical enemies. He asked, therefore, for a body-guard for hisprotection. This was granted him by the popular assembly, which wasstrongly on his side. With its aid he seized the Acropolis and madehimself master of the city, while his opponents were forced to fly fortheir lives. 

This revolutionary movement was strenuously opposed by Solon, but invain. Pisistratus had made himself so popular with the people that theytreated their old law-giver like a man who had lost his senses. As alast appeal he put on his armor and placed himself before the door ofhis house, as if on guard as a sentinel over the liberties of hiscountry! This appeal was also in vain. 

"I have done my duty!" he exclaimed; "I have sustained to the best of mypower my country and the laws. "

He refused to fly, saying, when asked on what he relied for protection, "On my old age. "

Pisistratus--who proved a very mild despot--left his aged opponentunharmed, and in the next year Solon died, being then eighty years ofage. 

His laws lived after him, despite the despotism which ruled over Athensfor the succeeding fifty years. 

_THE FORTUNE OF CROESUS. _

The land of the Hellenes, or Greeks, was not confined to the smallpeninsula now known as Greece. Hellenic colonies spread far to the eastand the west, to Italy and Sicily on the one hand, to Asia Minor and theshores of the Black Sea on the other. The story of the Argonautsprobably arose from colonizing expeditions to the Black Sea. That ofCroesus has to do with the colonies in Asia Minor. 

These colonies clung to the coast. Inland lay other nations, to someextent of Hellenic origin. One of these was the kingdom of Lydia, whosehistory is of the highest importance to us, since the conflicts betweenLydia and the coast colonies were the first steps towards the invasionof Greece by the Persians, that most important event in early Grecianhistory. 

These conflicts began in the reign of Croesus, an ambitious king ofLydia in the sixth century before Christ. What gave rise to the warbetween Lydia and the Greek settlements of Ionia and Æolia we do notvery well know. An ambitious despot does not need much pretext for war. He wills the war, and the pretext follows. It will suffice to say that, on one excuse or another, Croesus made war on every Ionian and Æolianstate, and conquered them one after the other. 

First the great and prosperous city of Ephesus fell. Then, one by one, others followed, till, by the year 550 B. C. , Croesus had become lordand master of every one of those formerly free and wealthy cities andstates. Then, having placed all the colonies on the mainland undertribute, he designed to conquer the islands as well, and proposed tobuild ships for that purpose. He was checked in this plan by the shrewdanswer of one of the seven wise men of Greece, either Bias or Pittacus, who had visited Sardis, the capital of Lydia. 

"What news bring you from Greece?" asked King Croesus of his wisevisitor. 

"I am told that the islanders are gathering ten thousand horse, with thepurpose of attacking you and your capital, " was the answer. 

"What!" cried Croesus. "Have the gods given these shipmen such an ideaas to fight the Lydians with cavalry?"

"I fancy, O king, " answered the Greek, "that nothing would please youbetter than to catch these islanders here on horseback. But do you notthink that they would like nothing better than to catch you at sea onshipboard? Would they not avenge on you the misfortunes of theirconquered brethren?"

This shrewd suggestion taught Croesus a lesson. Instead of fightingthe islanders, he made a treaty of peace and friendship with them. Buthe continued his conquests on the mainland till in the end all AsiaMinor was under his sway, and Lydia had become one of the greatkingdoms of the earth. Such wealth came to Croesus as a result of hisconquests and unchanging good fortune that he became accounted therichest monarch upon the earth, while Sardis grew marvellous for itssplendor and prosperity. At an earlier date there had come thitheranother of the seven wise men of Greece, Solon, the law-giver of Athens. What passed between this far-seeing visitor and the proud monarch ofLydia we have already told. 

The misfortunes which Solon told the king were liable to come upon anyman befell Croesus during the remainder of his life. Herodotus, thehistorian, tells us the romantic story of how the gods sent misery tohim who had boasted overmuch of his happiness. We give briefly thisinteresting account. 

Croeus had two sons, one of whom was deaf and dumb, the other, Atys byname, gifted with the highest qualities which nature has to bestow. Theking loved his bright and handsome son as dearly as he loved his wealth, and when a dream came to him that Atys would die by the blow of an ironweapon, he was deeply disturbed in his mind. 

How should he prevent such a misfortune? In alarm, he forbade his son totake part in military forays, to which he had before encouraged him;and, to solace him for this deprivation, bade him to take a wife. Then, lest any of the warlike weapons which hung upon the walls of hisapartments might fall and wound him, the king had them all removed, andstored away in the part of the palace devoted to the women. 

But fate had decreed that all such precautions should be in vain. AtMount Olympus, in Mysia, had appeared a monster boar, that ravaged thefields of the lowlands and defied pursuit into his mountain retreat. Hunting parties were sent against him, but the great boar came offunscathed, while the hunters always suffered from his frightful tusks. At length ambassadors were sent to Croesus, begging him to send hisson, with other daring youths and with hunting hounds, to aid them ridtheir country of this destructive brute. 

"That cannot be, " answered Croesus, still in terror from his dream. "My son is just married, and cannot so soon leave his bride. But I willsend you a picked band of hunters, and bid them use all zeal to killthis foe of your harvests. "

With this promise the Mysians were quite content, but Atys, whooverheard it, was not. 

"Why, my father, " he demanded, "do you now keep me from the wars and thechase, when you formerly encouraged me to take part in them, and winglory for myself and you? Have I ever shown cowardice or lack of manlyspirit? What must the citizens or my young bride think of me? With whatface can I show myself in the forum? Either you must let me go to thechase of this boar, or give a reason why you keep me at home. "

In reply Croesus told the indignant youth of his vision, and the alarmwith which it had inspired him. 

"Ah!" cried Atys, "then I cannot blame you for keeping this tender watchover me. But, father, do you not wrongly interpret the dream? It said Iwas to die stricken by an iron weapon. A boar wields no such weapon. Had the dream said I was to die pierced by a tusk, then you might wellbe alarmed; but it said a weapon. We do not propose now to fight men, but to hunt a wild beast I pray you, therefore, let me go with theparty. "

"You have the best of me there, " said Croesus. "Your interpretation ofthe dream is better than mine. You may go, my son. "

At that time there was at the king's court a Phrygian named Adrastus, who had unwittingly slain his own brother and had fled to Sardis, wherehe was purified according to the customs of the country, and courteouslyreceived by the king. Croesus sent for this stranger and asked him togo with the hunting party, and keep especial watch over his son, in caseof an attack by some daring band of robbers. 

Adrastus consented, though against his will, his misfortune having takenfrom him all desire for scenes of bloodshed. However, he would do hisutmost to guard the king's son against harm. 

The party set out accordingly, reached Olympus without adventure, andscattered in pursuit of the animal, which the dogs soon roused from itslair. Closing in a circle around the brute, the hunters drew near andhurled their weapons at it. Not the least eager among the hunters wasAdrastus, who likewise hurled his spear; but, through a frightfulchance, the hurtling weapon went astray, and struck and killed Atys, hisyouthful charge. Thus was the dream fulfilled: an iron weapon had slainthe king's favorite son. 

The news of this misfortune plunged Croesus into the deepest miseryof grief. As for Adrastus, he begged to be sacrificed at the grave ofhis unfortunate victim. This Croesus, despite his grief, refused, saying, --

"Some god is the author of my misfortune, not you. I was forewarned ofit long ago. "

But Adrastus was not to be thus prevented. Deeming himself the mostunfortunate of men, he slew himself on the tomb of the hapless youth. And for two years Croesus abandoned himself to grief. 

And now we must go on to tell how Croesus met with a greatermisfortune still, and brought the Persians to the gates of Greece. Cyrus, son of Cambyses, king of Persia, had conquered the neighboringkingdom of Media, and, inspired by ambition, had set out on a career ofwide-spread conquest and dominion. He had grown steadily more powerful, and now threatened the great kingdom which Croesus had gained. 

The Lydian king, seeing this danger approaching, sought advice from theoracles. But wishing first to know which of them could best be trusted, he sent to six of them demanding a statement of what he was doing at acertain moment. The oracle of Delphi alone gave a correct answer. 

Thereupon Croesus offered up a vast sacrifice to the Delphian deity. Three thousand oxen were slain, and a great sacrificial pile was built, on which were placed splendid robes and tunics of purple, with couchesand censers of gold and silver, all to be committed to the flames. ToDelphi he sent presents befitting the wealthiest of kings, --ingots, statues, bowls, jugs, etc. , of gold and silver, of great weight. TheseHerodotus himself saw with astonishment a century afterwards at Delphi. The envoys who bore these gifts asked the oracle whether Croesusshould undertake an expedition against the Persians, and should solicitallies. 

He was bidden, in reply, to seek alliance with the most powerful nationsof Greece. He was also told that if he fought with the Persians he wouldoverturn a "mighty empire. " Croesus accepted this as a promise ofsuccess, not thinking to ask whose empire was to be overturned. He sentagain to the oracle, which now replied, "When a mule shall become kingof the Medes, then thou must run away, --be not ashamed. " Here wasanother enigma of the oracle. Cyrus--son of a royal Median mother and aPersian father of different race and lower position--was the muleindicated, though Croesus did not know this. In truth, the oracles ofGreece seem usually to have borne a double meaning, so that whateverhappened the priestess could claim that her word was true, the fault wasin the interpretation. 

Croesus, accepting the oracles as favorable, made an alliance withSparta, and marched his army into Media, where he inflicted much damage. Cyrus met him with a larger army, and a battle ensued. Neither partycould claim a victory, but Croesus returned to Sardis, to collect moremen and obtain aid from his allies. He might have been successful hadCyrus waited till his preparations were complete. But the Persian kingfollowed him to his capital, defeated him in a battle near Sardis, andbesieged him in that city. 

Sardis was considered impregnable, and Croesus could easily have heldout till his allies arrived had it not been for one of those unfortunateincidents of which war has so many to tell. Sardis was stronglyfortified on every side but one. Here the rocky height on which it wasbuilt was so steep as to be deemed inaccessible, and walls were thoughtunnecessary. Yet a soldier of the garrison made his way down thisprecipice to pick up his helmet, which had fallen. A Persian soldier sawhim, tried to climb up, and found it possible. Others followed him, andthe garrison, to their consternation, found the enemy within theirwalls. The gates were opened to the army without, and the whole city wasspeedily taken by storm. 

Croesus would have been killed but for a miracle. His deaf and dumbson, seeing a Persian about to strike him down, burst into speechthrough the agony of terror, crying out, "Man, do not kill Croesus!"The story goes that he ever afterwards retained the power of speech. 

Cyrus had given orders that the life of Croesus should be spared, andthe unhappy captive was brought before him. But the cruel Persian had adifferent death in view. He proposed to burn the captive king, togetherwith fourteen Lydian youths, on a great pile of wood which he hadconstructed. We give what followed as told by Herodotus, though itstruth cannot be vouched for at this late day. 

As Croesus lay in fetters on the already kindled pile and thought ofthis terrible ending to his boasted happiness, he groaned bitterly, andcried in tones of anguish, "Solon! Solon! Solon!"

"What does he mean?" asked Cyrus of the interpreters. They questionedCroesus, and learned from him what Solon had said. Cyrus heard thisstory not without alarm. His own life was yet to end; might not a likefate come to him? He ordered that the fire should be extinguished, butwould have been too late had not a timely downpour of rain just thencome to the aid of the captive king, --sent by Apollo, in gratitude forthe gifts to his temple, suggests Herodotus. Croesus was afterwardsmade the confidential friend and adviser of the Persian king, whosedominions, through this victory, had been extended over the whole Lydianempire, and now reached to the ocean outposts of Greece. 

_THE SUITORS OF AGARISTÉ. _

Sicyon, the smallest country of the Peloponnesus, lay on the Gulf ofCorinth, adjoining the isthmus which connects the peninsula with therest of Greece. In this small country--as in many larger ones--thenobles held rule, the people were subjects. The rich and proud rulersdwelt on the hill slopes, the poor and humble people lived on thesea-shore and along the river Asopus. But in course of time many of thepeople became well off, through success in fisheries and commerce, towhich their country was well adapted. Weary of the oppression of thenobles, they finally rose in rebellion and overthrew the government. Orthagoras, once a cook, but now leader of the rebels, became master ofthe state, and he and his descendants ruled it for a hundred years. Thelast of this dynasty was Cleisthenes, a just and moderate ruler, concerning whom we have a story to tell. 

These lords of the state were called tyrants; but this word did not meanin Greece what it means to us. The tyrants of Greece were popularleaders who had overthrown the old governments and laws, and ruledlargely through force and under laws of their own making. But they werenot necessarily tyrannical. The tyrants of Athens were mild and just intheir dealings with the people, and so proved to be those of Sicyon. 

[Illustration: GRECIAN LADIES AT HOME. ]

Cleisthenes, who became the most eminent of the tyrants of Sicyon, had abeautiful daughter, named Agaristé, whom he thought worthy of thenoblest of husbands, and decided that she should be married to theworthiest youth who could be found in all the land of Greece. To selectsuch a husband he took unusual steps. 

When the fair Agaristé had reached marriageable age, her father attendedthe Olympic games, at which there were used to gather men of wealth andeminence from all the Grecian states. Here he won the prize in thechariot race, and then bade the heralds to make the followingproclamation:

"Whoever among the Greeks deems himself worthy to be the son-in-law ofCleisthenes, let him come, within sixty days, to Sicyon. Within a yearfrom that time Cleisthenes will decide, from among those who presentthemselves, on the one whom he deems fitting to possess the hand of hisdaughter. "

This proclamation, as was natural, roused warm hopes in many youthfulbreasts, and within the sixty days there had gathered at Sicyon thirteennoble claimants for the charming prize. From the city of Sybaris inItaly came Smindyrides, and from Siris came Damasus. Amphimnestus andMales made their way to Sicyon from the cities of the Ionian Gulf. ThePeloponnesus sent Leocedes from Argos, Amiantus from Arcadia, Laphanesfrom Pæus, and Onomastus from Elis. From Euboea came Lysanias; fromThessaly, Diactorides; from Molossia, Alcon; and from Attica, Megaclesand Hippoclides. Of the last two, Megacles was the son of the renownedAlkmæon, while Hippoclides was accounted the handsomest and wealthiestof the Athenians. 

At the end of the sixty days, when all the suitors had arrived, Cleisthenes asked each of them whence he came and to what family hebelonged. Then, during the succeeding year, he put them to every testthat could prove their powers. He had had a foot-course and awrestling-ground made ready to test their comparative strength andagility, and took every available means to discover their courage, vigor, and skill. 

But this was not all that the sensible monarch demanded in his desiredson-in-law. He wished to ascertain their mental and moral as well astheir physical powers, and for this purpose kept them under closeobservation for a year, carefully noting their manliness, their temperand disposition, their accomplishments and powers of intellect. Now heconversed with each separately; now he brought them together andconsidered their comparative powers. At the gymnasium, in the councilchamber, in all the situations of thought and activity, he tested theirabilities. But he particularly considered their behavior at thebanquet-table. From first to last they were sumptuously entertained, andtheir demeanor over the trencher-board and the wine-cup was closelyobserved. 

In this story, as told us by garrulous old Herodotus, nothing is said ofAgaristé herself. In a modern romance of this sort the lady would havehad a voice in the decision and a place in the narrative. There wouldhave been episodes of love, jealousy, and malice, and the one whom thelady blessed with her love would in some way--in the eternal fitness ofthings--have become victor in the contest and carried off the prize. Butthey did things differently in Greece. The preference of the maiden hadlittle to do with the matter; the suitor exerted himself to please thefather, not the daughter; maiden hands were given rather in barter andsale than in trust and affection; in truth, almost the only lovers wemeet with in Grecian history are Hæmon and Antigone, of whom we havespoken in the tale of the "Seven against Thebes. "

And thus it was in the present instance. It was the father the suitorscourted, not the daughter. They proved their love over thebanquet-table, not at the trysting-place. It was by speed of foot andskill in council, not by whispered words of devotion, that theycontended for the maidenly prize. Or, if lovers' meetings took place andlovers' vows were passed, they were matters of the strictest secrecy, and not for Greek historians to put on paper or Greek ears to hear. 

But the year of probation came in due time to its end, and among all thesuitors the two from Athens most won the favor of Cleisthenes. And ofthe two he preferred Hippoclides. It was not alone for his handsome faceand person and manly bearing that this favored youth was chosen, butalso because he was descended from a noble family of Corinth whichCleisthenes esteemed. Yet "there is many a slip between the cup and thelip, " an adage whose truth Hippoclides was to learn. 

When the day came on which the choice of the father was to be made, andthe wedding take place, Cleisthenes held a great festival in honor ofthe occasion. First, to gain the favor of the gods, he offered a hundredoxen in sacrifice. Then, not only the suitors, but all the people of thecity were invited to a grand banquet and festival, at the end of whichthe choice of Cleisthenes was to be declared. What torments of love andfear Agaristé suffered during this slow-moving feast the historian doesnot say. Yet it may be that she was the power behind the throne, andthat the proposed choice of the handsome Hippoclides was due as much toher secret influence as to her father's judgment. 

However this be, the feast went on to its end, and was followed by acontest between the suitors in music and oratory, with all the people todecide. As the drinking which followed went on, Hippoclides, who hadsurpassed all the others as yet, shouted to the flute-player, biddinghim to play a dancing air, as he proposed to show his powers in thedance. 

The wine was in his weak head, and what he considered marvellously finedancing did not appear so to Cleisthenes, who was closely watching hisproposed son-in-law. Hippoclides, however, in a mood to show all hisaccomplishments, now bade an attendant to bring in a table. This beingbrought, he leaped upon it, and danced some Laconian steps, which hefollowed by certain Attic ones. Finally, to show his utmost powers ofperformance, he stood on his head on the table, and began to dance withhis legs in empty air. 

This was too much for Cleisthenes. He had changed his opinion ofHippoclides during his light and undignified exhibition, but restrainedhimself from speaking to avoid any outbreak or ill feeling. But onseeing him tossing his legs in this shameless manner in the air, theindignant monarch cried out, --

"Son of Tisander, you have danced your wife away. "

"What does Hippoclides care?" was the reply of the tipsy youth. 

And for centuries afterwards "What does Hippoclides care?" was a commonsaying in Greece, to indicate reckless folly and lightness of mind. 

Cleisthenes now commanded silence, and spoke as follows to the assembly:

"Suitors of my daughter, well pleased am I with you all, and rightwillingly, if it were possible, would I content you all, and not, bymaking choice of one, appear to put a slight upon the rest. But as it isout of my power, seeing that I have only one daughter, to grant to alltheir wishes, I will present to each of you whom I must needs dismiss atalent of silver[2] for the honor that you have done in seeking to allyyourselves with my house, and for your long absence from your homes. Butmy daughter Agaristé I betroth to Megacles, the son of Alkmæon, to behis wife, according to the usage and wont of Athens. "

Megacles gladly accepted the honor thus offered him, the marriage wassolemnized with all possible state, and the suitors dispersed, --twelveof them happy with their silver talents, one of them happier with hischarming bride. 

We have but further to say that Cleisthenes of Athens--a great leaderand law-giver, whose laws gave origin to the democratic government ofthat city--was the son of Megacles and Agaristé, and that his grandsonwas the famous Pericles, the foremost name in Athenian history. 

_THE TYRANTS OF CORINTH. _

We have already told what the word "tyrant" meant in Greece, --a despotwho set aside the law and ruled at his own pleasure, but who might bemild and gentle in his rule. Such were the tyrants of Sicyon, spoken ofin our last tale. The tyrants of Corinth, the state adjoining Sicyon, were of a harsher character. Herodotus, the gossiping old historiantells some stories about these severe despots which seem worth tellingagain. 

The government of Corinth, like most of the governments of Greece, wasin early days an oligarchy, --that is, it was ruled by a number ofpowerful aristocrats instead of by a single king. In Corinth thesebelonged to a single family, named the Bacchiadæ (or legendarydescendants of the god Bacchus), who constantly intermarried, and keptall power to themselves. 

But one of this family, Amphion by name, had a daughter, named Labda, whom none of the Bacchiadæ would marry, as she had the misfortune to belame. So she married outside the family, her husband being named Aëtion, and a man of noble descent. Having no children, Aëtion applied to theDelphian oracle, and was told that a son would soon be borne to him, and that this son "would, like a rock, fall on the kingly race and rightthe city of Corinth. "

The Bacchiadæ heard of this oracle, and likewise knew of an earlier onethat had the same significance. Forewarned is forearmed. They remainedquiet, waiting until Aëtion's child should be born, and proposing thento take steps for their own safety. 

When, therefore, they heard that Labda had borne a son, they sent ten oftheir followers to Petra (the _rock_), where Aëtion dwelt, withinstructions to kill the child. These assassins entered Aëtion's house, and, with murder in their hearts, asked Labda, with assumedfriendliness, if they might see her child. She, looking upon them asfriends of her husband, whom kindly feeling had brought thither, gladlycomplied, and, bringing the infant, laid it in the arms of one of theruffianly band. 

It had been agreed between them that whoever first laid hold of thechild should dash it to the ground. But as the innocent intended victimlay in the murderer's arms, it smiled in his face so confidingly that hehad not the heart to do the treacherous deed. He passed the child, therefore, on to another, who passed it to a third, and so it went therounds of the ten, disarming them all by its happy and trusting smilefrom performing the vile deed for which they had come. In the end theyhanded the babe back to its mother, and left the house. 

Halting just outside the door, a hot dispute arose between them, eachblaming the others, and nine of them severely accusing the one whosetask it had been to do the cruel deed. He defended himself, saying thatno man with a heart in his breast could have done harm to that smilingbabe, --certainly not he. In the end they decided to go into the houseagain, and all take part in the murder. 

But they had talked somewhat too long and too loud. Labda had overheardthem and divined their dread intent. Filled with fear, lest they shouldreturn and murder her child, she seized the infant, and, looking eagerlyabout for some place in which she might conceal it, chose a _cypsel_, orcorn-bin, as the place least likely to be searched. 

Her choice proved a wise one. The men returned, and, as she refused totell them where the child was, searched the house in vain, --none of themthinking of looking for an infant in a corn-bin. At length they wentaway, deciding to report that they had done as they were bidden, andthat the child of Aëtion was slain. 

The boy, in memory of his escape, was named _Cypselus_, after thecorn-bin. He grew up without further molestation, and on coming to man'sestate did what so many of the ancients seemed to have considerednecessary, went to Delphi to consult the oracle. 

The pythoness, or priestess of Apollo, at his approach, hailed him asking of Corinth. "He and his children, but not his children's children. "And the oracle, as was often the case, produced its own accomplishment, for it encouraged Cypselus to head a rebellion against the oligarchy, bywhich it was overthrown and he made king. For thirty years thereafter hereigned as tyrant of Corinth, with a prosperous but harsh rule. Many ofthe Corinthians were put to death by him, others robbed of theirfortunes, and others banished the state. Then he died and left thegovernment to his son Periander. 

Periander began his reign in a mild spirit. But his manner changed afterhe had sent a herald to Thrasybúlus, the tyrant of Miletus, asking hisadvice how he could best rule with honor and fortune. Thrasybúlus ledthe messenger outside the city and through a field of corn, questioninghim as they walked, while, whenever he came to an ear of corn thatovertopped its fellows, he broke it off and threw it aside. Thus hispath through the field was marked by the downfall of all the talleststems and ears. Then, returning to the city, he sent the messenger backwithout a word of answer to his petition. 

Periander, on his herald's return, asked him what counsel he brought. "None, " was the answer; "not a word. King Thrasybúlus acted in thestrangest way, destroying his corn as he led me through the field, andsending me away without a word. " He proceeded to tell how the monarchhad acted. 

Periander was quick to gather his brother tyrant's meaning. If he wouldrule in safety he must cut off the loftiest heads, --signified by thetall ears of corn. He took the advice thus suggested, and from that timeon treated his subjects with the greatest cruelty. Many of those whomCypselus had spared he put to death or banished, and acted the tyrant inthe fullest sense of the word. 

He even killed his wife Melissa; just why, we do not know. But we aretold that she afterwards appeared to him in a dream and said that shewas cold, being destitute of clothes. The garments he had buried withher were of no use to her spirit, since they had not been burned. Periander took his own way to quiet and clothe the restless ghost. Heproclaimed that all the wives of Corinth should go to the temple ofJuno. This they did, dressed in their best, deeming it a festival. Whenthey were all within he closed the doors, and had them stripped of theirrich robes and ornaments, which he threw into a pit and set on fire, calling on the name of Melissa as they burned. And in this way thedemand of the shivering ghost was satisfied. 

Periander had two sons, --the elder a dunce, the younger, Lycophron (orwolf-heart), a youth of noble nature and fine intellect. He sent them ona visit to Proclus, their mother's father, and from him the boyslearned, what they had not known before, that their father was theirmother's murderer. 

This story did not trouble the dull-brained elder, but Lycophron was soaffected by it that on his return home he refused to speak to hisfather, and acted so surlily that Periander in anger turned him out ofhis house. The tyrant, learning from his elder son the cause ofLycophron's strange behavior, grew still more incensed. He sent ordersto those who had given shelter to his son that they should cease toharbor him, And he continued to drive him from shelter to shelter, tillin the end he proclaimed that whoever dared to harbor, or even speak to, his rebellious son, should pay a heavy fine to Apollo. 

Thus, driven from every house, Lycophron took lodging in the publicporticos, where he dwelt without shelter and almost without food. Seeinghis wretched state, Periander took pity on him and bade him come homeand no longer indulge in such foolish and unfilial behavior. 

[Illustration: THE ACROPOLIS OF ATHENS. ]

Lycophron's only reply was that his father had broken his own edict bycoming and talking with him, and therefore himself owed the penalty toApollo. 

Periander, seeing that the boy was uncontrollable in his indignation, and troubled at heart by the piteous spectacle, now sent him by ship tothe island of Corcyra, a colony of Corinth. As for Proclus, the tyrantmade war upon him for his indiscreet revelation, robbed him of hiskingdom, Epidaurus, and carried him captive to Corinth. 

And the years went on, and Periander grew old and unable properly tohandle his affairs. His elder son was incapable of taking his place, sohe sent to Corcyra and asked Lycophron to come to Corinth and take thekingship of that fair land. 

Lycophron, whose indignation time had not cooled, refused even to answerthe message. Then Periander sent his daughter, the sister of Lycophron, hoping that she might be able to persuade him. She made a strong appeal, begging him not to let the power pass away from their family and theirfather's wealth fall into strange hands, and reminding him that mercywas a higher virtue than justice. 

Her appeal was in vain. Lycophron refused to go back to Corinth as longas his father remained alive. 

Then the desperate old man, at his wits' end through Lycophron'sobstinacy, sent a herald, saying that he would himself come to Corcyra, and let his son take his place in Corinth as king. To these termsLycophron agreed. But there were others to deal with, for, when theterrified Corcyrians heard that the terrible old tyrant was coming todwell in their island, they rose in a tumult and put Lycophron to death. 

And thus ended the dynasty of Cypselus, as the oracle had foretold. Though Periander revenged himself on the Corcyrians, he could not bringhis son to life again, and the children's children of Cypselus did notcome to the throne. 

_THE RING OF POLYCRATES. _

Near the coast of Asia Minor lies the bright and beautiful island ofSamos, one of the choicest gems of the Ægean archipelago. This islandwas, somewhere about the year 530 B. C. , seized by a political adventurernamed Polycrates. He accomplished this by the aid of his two brothers, but of these he afterwards killed one and banished the other, --Sylosonby name, --so that he became sole ruler and despot of the island. 

This island kingdom of Polycrates was a small one, about eighty miles incircumference, but it was richly fertile, and had the honor of being thebirthplace of many illustrious Greeks, among whom we may namePythagoras, the famous philosopher. The city of Samos became, underPolycrates, "the first of all cities, Greek or barbarian. " It wasadorned with magnificent buildings and costly works of art; was suppliedwith water by a great aqueduct, tunnelled for nearly a mile through amountain; had a great breakwater to protect the harbor, and a vast andmagnificent temple to Juno: all of which seem to have been partly orwholly constructed by Polycrates. 

But this despot did not content himself with ruling the island andadorning the city which he had seized. He was ambitious andunscrupulous, and aspired to become master of all the islands of theÆgean Sea, and of Ionia in Asia Minor. He conquered several of theseislands and a number of towns in the mainland, defeated the Lesbianfleet that came against him during his war with Miletus, got together ahundred armed ships and hired a thousand bowmen, and went forward withhis designs with a fortune that never seemed to desert him. His navalpower became the greatest in the world of Greece, and it seemed as if hewould succeed in all his ambitious designs. But a dreadful fate awaitedthe tyrant. Like Croesus, he was to learn that good fortune is apt tobe followed by disaster. The remainder of his story is part history andpart legend, and we give it as told by old Herodotus, who has preservedso many interesting tales of ancient Greece. 

At, that time Persia, whose king Cyrus had overcome Croesus, was thegreatest empire in the world. All western Asia lay in its grasp; AsiaMinor was overrun; and Cambyses, the king who had succeeded Cyrus, wasabout to invade the ancient land of Egypt. The king of this country, Amasis by name, was in alliance with Polycrates, rich gifts had passedbetween them, and they seemed the best of friends. But Amasis had hissuperstitions, and the constant good fortune of Polycrates seemed to himso different from the ordinary lot of kings that he feared that somemisfortune must follow it. He perhaps had heard the story of Solon andCroesus. Amasis accordingly wrote a warning letter to his friend. 

The great prosperity of his friend and ally, he said, caused himforeboding instead of joy, for he knew that the gods were envious, andhe desired for those he loved alternate good and ill fortune. He hadnever heard of any one who was successful in all his enterprises thatdid not meet with calamity in the end. He therefore counselledPolycrates to do what the gods had not yet done, and bring somemisfortune on himself. His advice was that he should select the treasurehe most valued and could least bear to part with, and throw it away sothat it should never be seen again. By this voluntary sacrifice he mightavert involuntary loss and suffering. 

This advice seemed wise to the despot, and he began to consider which ofhis possessions he could least bear to lose. He settled at length on hissignet-ring, an emerald set in gold, which he highly valued. This hedetermined to throw away where it could never be recovered. So, havingone of his fifty-oared vessels manned, he put to sea, and when he hadgone a long distance from the coast he took the ring from his fingerand, in the presence of all the sailors, tossed it into the waters. 

This was not done without deep grief to Polycrates. He valued the ringmore highly than ever, now that it lay on the bottom of the sea, irretrievably lost to him, as he thought; and he grieved for daysthereafter, feeling that he had endured a real misfortune, which hehoped the gods might accept as a compensation for his good luck. 

But destiny is not so easily to be disarmed. Several days afterwards aSamian fisherman had the fortune to catch a fish so large and beautifulthat he esteemed it worthy to be offered as a present to the king. Heaccordingly went with it to the palace gates and asked to seePolycrates. The guards, learning his purpose, admitted him. On cominginto the king's presence, the fisherman said that, though he was a poorman who lived by his labor, he could not let himself offer such a prizein the public market. 

"I said to myself, " he continued, "'It is worthy of Polycrates and hisgreatness;' and so I brought it here to give it to you. "

The compliment and the gift so pleased the tyrant that he not onlythanked the fisherman warmly, but invited him to sup with him on thefish. 

But a wonder happened in the king's kitchen. On the cook's cutting openthe fish to prepare it for the table, to his surprise he found within it_the signet-ring of the king_. With joy he hastened to Polycrates withhis strangely recovered treasure, the story of whose loss had goneabroad, and told in what a remarkable way it had been restored. 

As for Polycrates, the return of the ring brought him some joy but moregrief. The fates, it appeared, were not so lightly to be appeased. Hewrote to Amasis, telling what he had done and with what result. Theletter came to the Egyptian king like a prognostic of evil. That therewould be an ill end to the career of Polycrates he now felt sure; and, not wishing to be involved in it himself, he sent a herald to Samos andinformed his late friend and ally that the alliance between them was atan end. 

It cannot be said that Amasis profited much by this act. Soon afterwardshis own country was overrun and conquered by Cambyses, the Persian king, and his reign came to a disastrous termination. 

Whether there is any historical basis for this story of the ring may bequestioned. But this we do know, that the friendship between Amasis andPolycrates was broken, and that Polycrates offered to help Cambyses inhis invasion, and sent forty ships to the Nile for this purpose. Onthese were some Samians whom the tyrant wished to get rid of, and whomhe secretly asked the Persian king not to let return. 

These exiles, however, suspecting what was in store for them, managed insome way to escape, and returned to Samos, where they made an attack onPolycrates. Being driven off by him, they went to Sparta and asked forassistance, telling so long a story of their misfortunes and sufferingsthat the Spartans, who could not bear long speeches, curtly answered, "We have forgotten the first part of your speech, and the last part wedo not understand. " This answer taught the Samians a lesson. The nextday they met the Spartans with an empty wallet, saying, "Our wallet hasno meal in it. " "Your wallet is superfluous, " said the Spartans; meaningthat the words would have served without it. The aid which the Spartansthereupon granted the exiles proved of no effect, for it was againstPolycrates, the fortunate. They sent an expedition to Samos, andbesieged the city forty days, but were forced to retire without success. Then the exiles, thus made homeless, became pirates. They attacked theweak but rich island of Siphnos, which they ravaged, and forced theinhabitants to buy them off at a cost of one hundred talents. With thisfund they purchased the island of Hydrea, but in the end went to Crete, where they captured the city of Cydonia. After they had held this cityfor five years the Cretans recaptured it, and the Samian exiles endedtheir career by being sold into slavery. 

Meanwhile the good fortune of Polycrates continued, and Samos flourishedunder his rule. In addition to his great buildings and works ofengineering he became interested in stock-raising, and introduced intothe island the finest breeds of sheep, goats, and pigs. By high wages heattracted the ablest artisans of Greece to the city, and added to hispopularity by lending his rich hangings and costly plate to those whowanted them for a wedding feast or a sumptuous banquet. And that none ofhis subjects might betray him while he was off upon an extendedexpedition, he had the wives and children of all whom he suspected shutup in the sheds built to shelter his ships, with orders that theseshould be burned in case of any rebellious outbreak. 

Yet the misfortune that the return of the ring had indicated came atlength. The warning which Solon had given Croesus applied toPolycrates as well. The prosperous despot had a bitter enemy, Oroetesby name, the Persian governor of Sardis. As to why he hated Polycratestwo stories are told, but as neither of them is certain we shall notrepeat them. It is enough to say that he hated Polycrates bitterly anddesired his destruction, which he laid a plan to bring about. 

Oroetes, residing then at Magnesia, on the Mæander River, in thevicinity of Samos, and being aware of the ambitious designs ofPolycrates, sent him a message to the effect that he knew that while hedesired to become lord of the isles, he had not the means to carry outhis ambitious project. As for himself, he was aware that Cambyses wasbent on his destruction. He therefore invited Polycrates to come andtake him, with his wealth, offering for his protection gold sufficientto make him master of the whole of Greece, so far as money would servefor this. 

This welcome offer filled Polycrates with joy. He knew nothing of thehatred of Oroetes, and at once sent his secretary to Magnesia to seethe Persian and report upon the offer. What he principally wished toknow was in regard to the money offered, and Oroetes prepared tosatisfy him in this particular. He had eight large chests prepared, filled nearly full of stones, upon which gold was spread. These werecorded, as if ready for instant removal. 

This seeming store of gold was shown to the secretary, who hastened backto Polycrates with a glowing description of the treasure he had seen. Polycrates, on hearing this story, decided to go at once and bringOroetes and his chests of gold to Samos. 

Against this action his friends protested, while the soothsayers foundthe portents unfavorable. His daughter, also, had a significant dream. She saw her father hanging high in the air, washed by Zeus, the king ofthe gods, and anointed by the sun. Yet in spite of all this theinfatuated king persisted in going. His daughter followed him on theship, still begging him to return. His only answer was that if hereturned successfully he would keep her an old maid for years. 

"Oh that you may perform your threat!" she answered. "It is far betterfor me to be an old maid than to lose my father. "

Yet the infatuated king went, despite all warnings and advice, takingwith him a considerable suite. On his arrival at Magnesia grief insteadof gold proved his portion. His enemy seized him, put him to a miserabledeath, and hung his dead body on a cross to the mercy of the sun and therains. Thus his daughter's dream was fulfilled, for, in the old belief, to be washed by the rain was to be washed by Zeus, while the sunanointed him by causing the fat to exude from his body. 

A year or two after the death of Polycrates, his banished brotherSyloson came to the throne in a singular way. During his exile he foundhimself at Memphis, in Egypt, while Cambyses was there with hisconquering army. Among the guards of the king was Darius, the futureking of Persia, but then a soldier of little note. Syloson wore ascarlet cloak to which Darius took a fancy and proposed to buy it. By asudden impulse Syloson replied, "I cannot for any price sell it; but Igive it you for nothing, if it must be yours. "

Darius thanked him for the cloak, and that ended the matter there andthen, --Syloson afterwards holding himself as silly for the impulsivegood nature of his gift. 

But at length he learned with surprise that the simple Persian soldierwhom he had benefited was now king of the great Persian empire. He wentto Susa, the capital, and told who he was. Darius had forgotten hisface, but he remembered the incident of the cloak, and offered to pay akingly price for the small favor of his humbler days, tendering gold andsilver in profusion to his visitor. Syloson rejected these, but askedthe aid of Darius to make him king of Samos. This the grateful monarchgranted, and sent Syloson an army, with whose aid the island quickly andquietly fell into his hands. 

Yet calamity followed this peaceful conquest. Charilaus, a hot-temperedand half-mad Samian, who had been given charge of the acropolis, brokefrom it at the head of the guards, and murdered many of the Persianofficers who were scattered unguarded throughout the town. The reprisalwas dreadful. The Persian army fell in fury on the Samians andslaughtered every man and boy in the island, handing over to Syloson akingdom of women and infants. Some time afterwards, however, the islandwas repeopled by men from without, and Syloson completed his reign inpeace, leaving the sceptre of Samos to his son. 

_THE ADVENTURES OF DEMOCEDES. _

When Pythagoras, the celebrated Greek philosopher, settled in theancient Italian city of Crotona (between 550 and 520 B. C. ) there wasliving in that town a youthful surgeon who was destined to have aremarkable history. Democedes by name, the son of a Crotonian namedCalliphon, he strongly inclined while still a mere boy to the study ofmedicine and surgery, for which arts that city had then a reputationhigher than any part of Greece. 

The boy had two things to contend with, the hard study in his chosenprofession and the high temper of his father. The latter at length grewunbearable, and the youthful surgeon ran away from home, making his wayto the Greek island of Ægina. Here he began to practise what he hadlearned at home, and, though he was very poorly equipped with theinstruments of his profession, he proved far abler and more successfulthan the surgeons whom he found in that island. So rapid, indeed, washis progress that his first year's service brought him an offer from thecitizens of Ægina to remain with them for one year, at a salary of onetalent, --the Æginetan talent being nearly equal to two thousand dollars. The next year he spent at Athens, whose people had offered him one andtwo-thirds talents. In the following year Polycrates of Samos bid higherstill, offering him two talents, and the young surgeon repaired to thatcharming island. 

Thus far the career of Democedes had been one of steady progress. But, as Solon told Croesus, a man cannot count himself sure of happinesswhile he lives. The good fortune which had attended the runaway surgeonwas about to be followed by a period of ill luck and degradation, following those of his new patron. In the constant wars of Greece a freecitizen could never be sure how soon he might be reduced to slavery, andsuch was the fate of Democedes. 

We have already told how Polycrates was treacherously seized andmurdered by the Persian satrap Oroetes. Democedes had accompanied himto the court of the traitor, and was, with the other attendants ofPolycrates, seized and left to languish in neglect and imprisonment. Soon afterwards Oroetes received the just retribution for histreachery, being himself slain. And now a third turn came to the careerof Democedes. He was classed among the slaves of Oroetes, and sentwith them in chains to Susa, the capital of Darius, the great Persianking. 

But here the wheel of fortune suddenly took an upward turn. Darius, theking, leaping one day from his horse in the chase, sprained his foot sobadly that he had to be carried home in violent pain. The surgeons ofthe Persian court were Egyptians, who were claimed to be the first menin their profession. But, though they used all their skill in treatingthe foot of the king, they did him no good. Indeed, they only made thepain more severe. For seven days and nights the mighty king was taughtthat he was a man as well as a monarch, and could suffer as severely asthe poorest peasant in his kingdom. The foot gave him such torture thatall sleep fled from his eyelids, and he and those around him were indespair. 

At length it came to the memory of one who had come from the court ofOroetes, at Sardis, that report had spoken of a Greek surgeon amongthe slaves of the slain satrap. He mentioned this, and the king, to whomany hope of relief was welcome, gave orders that this man should besought and brought before him. It was a miserable object that was soonushered into the royal presence, a poor creature in rags, with fetterson his hands, and deep lines of suffering upon his face; a picture ofmisery, in fact. 

He was asked if he understood surgery. "No, " he replied; saying that hewas a slave, not a surgeon. Darius did not believe him; these Greekswere artful; but there were ways of getting at the truth. He orderedthat the scourge and the pricking instruments of torture should bebrought. Democedes, who was probably playing a shrewd game, now admittedthat he did have some little skill, but feared to practise his small arton so great a patient. He was bidden to do what he could, and went towork on the royal foot. 

The little skill of the Greek soon distanced the great skill of theEgyptians. He succeeded perfectly in alleviating the pain, and soon hadhis patient in a deep and refreshing sleep. In a short time the footwas sound again, and Darius could once more stand without a twinge ofpain. 

The king, who had grown hopeless of a cure, was filled with joy, and setno bounds to his gratitude. Democedes had come before him in ironchains. As a first reward the king presented him with two sets of chainsof solid gold. He next sent him to receive the thanks of his wives. Being introduced into the harem, Democedes was presented to the sultanasas the man who had saved the king's life, and whom their lord and masterdelighted to honor. Each of the fair and grateful women, in reward forhis great deed, gave him a saucer-full of golden coins, which were somany, and heaped so high, that the slave who followed him grew rich bymerely picking up the pieces that dropped on the floor. 

Nor did the generosity of Darius stop here. He gave Democedes a splendidhouse and furniture, made him eat at his own table, and showed him everyfavor at his command. As for the unlucky Egyptian surgeons, they wouldall have been crucified for their lack of skill had not Democedes beggedfor their lives. He might safely have told Darius that if he began tocrucify men for ignorance and assurance he would soon have few subjectsleft. 

But with all the favors which Darius granted, there was one which hesteadily refused to grant. And it was one on which Democedes had set hisheart. He wanted to return to Greece. Splendor in Persia was very wellin its way, but to his patriotic heart a crust in Greece was better thana loaf in this land of strangers. Ask as he might, however, Dariuswould not consent. A sprain or other harm might come to him again. Whatwould he then do without Democedes? He could not let him go. 

As asking had proved useless, the wily Greek next tried artifice. Atossa, the favorite wife of the king, had a tumor to form on herbreast. She said nothing of it for a time, but at length it grew so badthat she was forced to speak to the surgeon. He examined the tumor, andtold her he could cure it, and would do so if she would solemnly swearto do in return whatever he might ask. As she agreed to this, he curedthe tumor, and then told her that the reward he wished was liberty toreturn to Greece. But he told Atossa that the king would not grant thatfavor even to her, and that it could only be had by stratagem. Headvised her how she should act. 

When next in conversation with the king, Atossa told him that thePersians expected him to do something for the glory and power of theempire. He must add to it by conquest. 

"So I propose, " he replied. "I have in view an expedition against theScythians of the north. "

"Better lead one against the Greeks of the west, " she replied. "I haveheard much about the beauty of the maidens of Sparta, Athens, Argos, andCorinth, and I want to have some of these fair barbarians to serve me asslaves. And if you wish to know more about these Greek people, you havenear you the best person possible to give you information, --the Greekwho cured your foot. "

The suggestion seemed to Darius one worth considering. He wouldcertainly like to know more about this land of Greece. In the end, after conversing with his surgeon, he decided to send some confidentialagents there to gain information, with Democedes as their guide. Fifteensuch persons were chosen, with orders to observe closely the coasts andcities of Greece, obeying the suggestions and leadership of Democedes. They were to bring back what information they could, --and on peril oftheir lives to bring back Democedes. If they returned without him itwould be a sorry home-coming for them. 

The king then sent for Democedes, told him of the proposed expeditionand what part he was to take in it, but imperatively bade him to returnas soon as his errand was finished. He was bidden to take with him thewealth he had received, as presents for his father and brothers. Hewould not suffer from its loss, since as much, and more, would be givenhim on his return. Lastly, orders were given that a store-ship, "filledwith all manner of good things, " should be taken with the expedition. 

Democedes heard all this with the aspect of one to whom it was newtidings. Come back? Of course he would. He wished ardently to seeGreece, but for a steady place of residence he much preferred Susa andthe palace of his king. As for the gold which had been given him, hewould not take it away. He wanted to find his house and property on hisreturn. The store-ship would answer for all the presents he cared tomake. 

His shrewd reply left no shadow of doubt in the heart of the king. Theenvoys proceeded to Sidon, in Phoenicia, where two armed triremes anda large store-ship were got ready by their orders. In these they sailedto the coast of Greece, which they fully surveyed, and even went as faras Italy. The cities were also visited, and the story of all they hadseen was carefully written down. 

At length they arrived at Tarentum, in Italy, not far from Crotona, thenative place of Democedes. Here, at the secret suggestion of the wilysurgeon, the king seized the Persians as spies, and, to prevent theirescape, took away the rudders of their ships. Their treacherous leadertook the opportunity to make his way to Crotona, and here the Persians, who had been released and given back their ships, found him on theirarrival. They seized him in the market-place, but he was rescued fromthem by his fellow-citizens in spite of the remonstrances and threats ofthe envoys. The Crotonians even took from them the store-ship, andforced them to leave the harbor in their triremes. 

On their way home the unlucky envoys suffered a second misfortune; theywere shipwrecked and made slaves, --as was the cruel way of dealing withunfortunates in those days. An exile from Tarentum, named Gillis, paidtheir ransom, and took them to Susa, --for which service Darius offeredhim any reward he chose to ask. Like Democedes, all he wanted was to gohome. But this reward he did not obtain. Darius brought to bear onTarentum all the influence he could wield, but in vain. The Tarentineswere obdurate, and would not have their exile back again. And Gillis wasmore honorable than Democedes. He did not lay plans to bring a Persianinvasion upon Greece through his selfish wish to get back to his nativeland. 

A few words more will tell all else we know about Democedes. His lastwords to his Persian companions bade them tell Darius that he was aboutto marry the daughter of Milo of Crotona, famed as the greatest wrestlerof his time. Darius knew well the reputation of Milo. He had probablylearned it from Democedes himself. And a Persian king was more likely toadmire a muscular than a mental giant. Milo meant more to him than Homeror any hero of the pen. Democedes did marry Milo's daughter, paying ahigh price for the honor, for the sole purpose, so far as we know, ofsending back this boastful message to his friend, the king. And thusends all we know of the story of the surgeon of Crotona. 

_DARIUS AND THE SCYTHIANS. _

The conquest of Asia Minor by Cyrus and his Persian army was the firststep towards that invasion of Greece by the Persians which proved such avital element in the history of the Hellenic people. The next step wastaken in the reign of Darius, the first of Asiatic monarchs to invadeEurope. This ambitious warrior attempted to win fame by conquering thecountry of the Scythian barbarians, --now Southern Russia, --and wastaught such a lesson that for centuries thereafter the perilousenterprise was not repeated. 

It was about the year 516 B. C. That the Persian king, with theostensible purpose--invented to excuse his invasion--of punishing theScythians for a raid into Asia a century before, but really moved onlyby the thirst for conquest, reached the Bosphorus, the strait that heredivides Europe from Asia. He had with him an army said to have numberedseven hundred thousand men, and on the seas was a fleet of six hundredships. A bridge of boats was thrown across this arm of the sea, --onwhich Constantinople now stands, --and the great Persian host reachedEuropean soil in the country of Thrace. 

Happy was it for Greece that the ambitious Persian did not then seekits conquest, as Democedes, his physician, had suggested. The Athenians, then under the rule of the tyrant Pisistratus, were not the free andbold people they afterwards became, and had Darius sought their conquestat that time, the land of Greece would probably have become a part ofthe overgrown Persian empire. Fortunately, he was bent on conquering thebarbarians of the north, and left Greece to grow in valor andpatriotism. 

While the army marched from Asia into Europe across its bridge of boats, the fleet was sent into the Euxine, or Black Sea, with orders to sailfor two days up the Danube River, which empties into that sea, and buildthere also a bridge of boats. When Darius with his army reached theDanube, he found the bridge ready, and on its swaying length crossedwhat was then believed to be the greatest river on the earth. Reachingthe northern bank, he marched onward into the unknown country of thebarbarous Scythians, with visions of conquest and glory in his mind. 

What happened to the great Persian army and its ambitious leader inScythia we do not very well know. Two historians tell us the story, butprobably their history is more imagination than fact. Ctesias tells thefairy-tale that Darius marched northward for fifteen days, that he thenexchanged bows with the Scythian king, and that, finding the Scythianbow to be the largest, he fled back in terror to the bridge, which hehastily crossed, having left a tenth of his army as a sacrifice to hismad ambition. 

The story told by Herodotus is probably as much a product of theimagination as that of Ctesias, though it reads more like actualhistory. He says that the Scythians retreated northward, sending theirwives and children before them in wagons, and destroying the wells andruining the harvests as they went, so that little was left for theinvaders to eat and drink. On what the vast host lived we do not know, nor how they crossed the various rivers in their route. With suchtrifling considerations as these the historians of that day did notconcern themselves. There were skirmishes and combats of horsemen, butthe Scythian king took care to avoid any general battle. Darius sent hima herald and taunted him with cowardice, but King Idanthyrsus sent wordback that if the Persians should come and destroy the tombs of theforefathers of the Scythians they would learn whether they were cowardsor not. 

Day by day the monster Persian army advanced, and day by day itsdifficulties increased, until its situation grew serious indeed. TheScythians declined battle still, but Idanthyrsus sent to his distressedfoe the present of a bird, a mouse, a frog, and five arrows. Thissignified, according to the historian, "Unless you take to the air, likea bird; to the earth, like a mouse; or to the water, like a frog, youwill become the victim of the Scythian arrows. "

This warning frightened Darius. In truth, he was in a desperate strait. Leaving the sick and weak part of his army encamped with the asses hehad brought, --animals unknown to the Scythians, who were alarmed bytheir braying, --he began a hasty retreat towards his bridge of boats. But rapidly as he could march, the swifter Scythians reached the bridgebefore him, and counselled with the Ionian Greeks, who had been left incharge, and who were conquered subjects of the Persian king, to breakdown the bridge and leave Darius and his army to their fate. 

And now we get back into real history again. The story of what happenedin Scythia is all romance. All we really know is that the expeditionfailed, and what was left of the army came back to the Danube in hastyretreat. And here comes in an interesting part of the narrative. Thefleet of Darius was largely made up of the ships of the Ionians of AsiaMinor, who had long been Persian subjects. It was they who had bridgedthe Danube, and who were left to guard the bridge. After Darius hadcrossed the bridge, on his march north, he ordered the Ionians to breakit down and follow him into Scythia, leaving only the rowers and seamenin the ships. But one of his Greek generals advised him to let thebridge stand under guard of its builders, saying that evil fortune mightcome to the king's army through the guile and shrewdness of theScythians. 

Darius found this advice good, and promised to reward its giver afterhis return. He then took a cord and tied sixty knots in it. This he leftwith the Ionians. "Take this cord, " he said. "Untie one of the knots init each day after my advance from the Danube into Scythia. Remain hereand guard the bridge until you shall have untied all the knots; but ifby that time I shall not have returned, then depart and sail home. "

Such were the methods of counting which then prevailed. And theknowledge of geography was not more advanced. Darius had it in view tomarch round the Black Sea and return to Persia along its easternside, --with the wild idea that sixty days would suffice for this greatmarch. 

Fortunately for him, as the story goes, the Ionians did not obey orders, but remained on guard after the knots were all untied. Then, to theirsurprise, Scythians instead of Persians appeared. These told the Ioniansthat the Persian army was in the greatest distress, was retreating withall speed, and that its escape from utter ruin depended on the safety ofthe bridge. They urged the Greeks to break the bridge and retire. Ifthey should do so the Persians would all be destroyed, and Ionia wouldregain its freedom. 

This was wise advice. Had it been taken it might have saved Greece fromthe danger of Persian invasion. The Ionians were at first in favor ofit, and Miltiades, one of their leaders, and afterwards one of theheroes of Greek history, warmly advised that it should be done. ButHistiæus, the despot of Miletus, advised the other Ionian princes thatthey would lose their power if their countries became free, since thePersians alone supported them, while the people everywhere were againstthem. They determined, therefore, to maintain the bridge. 

But, to rid themselves of the Scythians, they pretended to take theiradvice, and destroyed the bridge for the length of a bow-shot from thenorthern shore of the stream. The Scythians, thinking that they now hadtheir enemies at their mercy, departed in search of their foes. Thatnight the Persian army, in a state of the greatest distress andprivation, reached the Danube, the Scythians having missed them andfailed to check their march. To the horror of Darius and his starvingand terror-stricken men, the bridge, in the darkness, appeared to begone. An Egyptian herald, with a voice like a trumpet, was ordered tocall for Histiæus, the Milesian. He did so, an answer came through thedarkness, and the hopes of the fleeing king were restored. The bridgewas speedily made complete again, and the Persian army hastily crossed, reaching the opposite bank before the Scythians, who had lost theirtrack, reappeared in pursuit. 

Thus ended in disaster the first Persian invasion of Europe. It was tobe followed by others in later years, equally disastrous to theinvaders. As for the despots of Ionia, who had through selfishness lostthe chance of freeing their native land, they were to live to see, before many years, Ionia desolated by the Persian tyrant whom they hadsaved from irretrievable ruin. We shall tell how this came about, as asequel to the story of the invasion of Scythia. 

Histiæus, despot of Miletus, whose advice had saved the bridge forDarius, was richly rewarded for his service, and attended Darius on hisreturn to Susa, the Persian capital, leaving his son-in-law Aristagorasin command at Miletus. Some ten years afterwards this regent of Miletusmade an attempt, with Persian aid, to capture the island of Naxos. Theeffort failed, and Aristagoras, against whom the Persians were incensedby their defeat and their losses, was threatened with ruin. He began tothink of a revolt from Persian rule. 

While thus mentally engaged, he received a strangely-sent message fromHistiæus, who was still detained at Susa, and who eagerly desired to getaway from dancing attendance at court and return to his kingdom. Histiæus advised his regent to revolt. But as this message was far toodangerous to be sent by any ordinary channels, he adopted anextraordinary method to insure its secrecy. Selecting one of his mosttrusty slaves, Histiæus had his head shaved, and then pricked ortattooed upon the bare scalp the message he wished to send. Keeping theslave in seclusion until his hair had grown again, he sent him toMiletus, where he was instructed simply to tell Aristagoras to shave andexamine his head. Aristagoras did so, read the tattooed message, andimmediately took steps to obey. 

Word of the proposed revolt was sent by him to the other cities alongthe coast, and all were found ready to join in the attempt to securefreedom. Not only the coast settlements, but the island of Cyprus, joined in the revolt. At the appointed time all the coast region of AsiaMinor suddenly burst into a flame of war. 

Aristagoras hurried to Greece for aid, seeking it first at Sparta. Finding no help there, he went to Athens, which city lent him twentyships, --a gift for which it was to pay dearly in later years. Hurryingback with this small reinforcement, he quickly organized an expeditionto assail the Persians at the centre of their power. 

Marching hastily to Sardis, the capital of Asia Minor, the revoltedIonians took and burned that city. But the Persians, gathering innumbers, defeated and drove them back to the coast, where the Athenians, weary of the enterprise, took to their ships and hastened home. 

When word of this raid, and the burning of Sardis by the Athenians andIonians, came to the ears of Darius at his far-off capital city, heasked in wonder, "The Athenians!--who are they?" The name of thisdistant and insignificant Greek city had not yet reached his kinglyears. 

He was told who the Athenians were, and, calling for his bow, he shot anarrow high into the air, at the same time calling to the Greek deity, "Grant me, Zeus, to revenge myself on those Athenians. "

And he bade one of his servants to repeat to him three times daily, whenhe sat down to his mid-day meal, "Master, remember the Athenians!"

The invaders had been easily repulsed from Sardis, but the revoltcontinued, and proved a serious and stubborn one, which it took thePersians years to overcome. The smaller cities were conquered one byone, but the Persians were four years in preparing for the siege ofMiletus. Resistance here was fierce and bitter, but in the end the cityfell. The Persians now took a savage revenge for the burning of Sardis, killing most of the men of this important city, dragging into captivitythe women and children, and burning the temples to the ground. The othercities which still held out were quickly taken, and visited likeMiletus, with the same fate of fire and bloodshed. It was now 495 B. C. , more than twenty years after the invasion of Scythia. 

As for Histiæus, he was at first blamed by Darius for the revolt. But ashe earnestly declared his innocence, and asserted that he could soonbring it to an end, Darius permitted him to depart. Reaching Miletus, heapplied at the gates for admission, saying that he had come to thecity's aid. But Aristagoras was no longer there, and the Milesians hadno use for their former tyrant. They refused him admission, and evenwounded him when he tried to force his way in at night. He then went toLesbos, obtained there some ships, occupied the city of Byzantium, andbegan a life of piracy, which he kept up till his death, pillaging theIonian merchant ships as they passed into and out of the Euxine Sea. Thus ended the career of this treacherous and worthless despot, to whomDarius owed his escape from Scythia. 

_THE ATHENIANS AT MARATHON. _

The time came when Darius of Persia did not need the bidding of a slaveto make him "Remember the Athenians. " He was taught a lesson on thebattle-field of Marathon that made it impossible for him ever to forgetthe Athenian name. Having dismally failed in his expedition against theScythians, he invaded Greece and failed as dismally. It is the story ofthis important event which we have next to tell. 

And here it may be well to remark what terrible consequences to mankindthe ambition of a single man may cause. The invasion of Greece, and allthat came from it, can be traced in a direct line of events from thedeeds of Histiæus, tyrant of Miletus, who first saved Darius fromannihilation by the Scythians, then roused the Ionians to rebellion, and, finally, through the medium of Aristagoras, induced the Atheniansto come to their aid and take part in the burning of Sardis. This rousedDarius, who had dwelt at Susa for many years in peace, to a thirst forrevenge on Athens, and gave rise to that series of invasions whichravaged Greece for many years, and whose fitting sequel was the invasionand conquest of Persia by Alexander the Great, a century and a halflater. 

And now, with this preliminary statement, we may proceed with our tale. No sooner had the Ionian revolt been brought to an end, and the Ionianspunished for their daring, than the angry Oriental despot prepared tovisit upon Athens the vengeance he had vowed. His preparations for thisenterprise were great. His experience in Scythia had taught him that theWestern barbarians--as he doubtless considered them--were not to bedespised. For two years, in every part of his vast empire, the note ofwar was sounded, and men and munitions of war were actively gathered. Onthe coast of Asia Minor a great fleet, numbering six hundred armedtriremes and many transports for men and horses, was prepared. TheIonian and Æolian Greeks largely manned this fleet, and were forced toaid their late foe in the effort to destroy their kinsmen beyond thearchipelago of the Ægean Sea. 

An Athenian traitor accompanied the Persians, and guided their leader inthe advance against his native city. We have elsewhere spoken ofPisistratus, the tyrant of Athens, whose treason Solon had in vainendeavored to prevent. After his death, his sons Hipparchus and Hippiassucceeded him in the tyranny. Hipparchus was killed in 514 B. C. , and in511 Hippias, who had shown himself a cruel despot, was banished fromAthens. He repaired to the court of King Darius, where he dwelt manyyears. Now he came back, as guide and counsellor to the Persians, hoping, perhaps, to become again a despot of Athens; but only, as thefates decreed, to find a grave on the fatal field of Marathon. 

The assault on Greece was a twofold one. The first was defeated bynature, the second by man. A land expedition, led by the Persian generalMardonius, crossed the Hellespont in the year 493 B. C. , proposing tomarch to Athens along the coast, and with orders to bring all that wereleft alive of its inhabitants as captives to the great king. On marchedthe great host, nothing doubting that Greece would fall an easy prey totheir arms. And as they marched along the land, the fleet followed themalong the adjoining sea, until the stormy and perilous promontory ofMount Athos was reached. 

No doubt the Greeks viewed with deep alarm this formidable progress. They had never yet directly measured arms with the Persians, and dreadedthem more than, as was afterwards shown, they had reason to. But atMount Athos the deities of the winds came to their aid. As the fleet wasrounding that promontory, often fatal to mariners, a frightful hurricaneswooped upon it, and destroyed three hundred of its ships, while no lessthan twenty thousand men became victims of the waves. Some of the crewsreached the shores, but of these many died of cold, and others wereslain and devoured by wild beasts, which roamed in numbers on thatuninhabited point of land. The land army, too, lost heavily from thehurricane; and Mardonius, fearing to advance farther after thisdisaster, ingloriously made his way back to the Hellespont. So ended thefirst invasion of Greece. 

Three years afterwards another was made. Darius, indeed, first sentheralds to Greece, demanding _earth and water_ in token of submission tohis will. To this demand some of the cities cowardly yielded; butAthens, Sparta, and others sent back the heralds with no more earth thanclung to the soles of their shoes. And so, as Greece was not to besubdued through terror of his name, the great king prepared to make itfeel his power and wrath, incited thereto by his hatred of Athens, whichHippias took care to keep alive. Another expedition was prepared, andput under the command of another general, Datis by name. 

The army was now sent by a new route. Darius himself had led his armyacross the Bosphorus, where Constantinople now stands, and whereByzantium then stood. Mardonius conveyed his across the southern strait, the Hellespont. The third expedition was sent on shipboard directlyacross the sea, landing and capturing the islands of the Ægean as itadvanced. Landing at length on the large island of Euboea, near thecoast of Attica, Datis stormed and captured the city of Eretria, burntits temples, and dragged its people into captivity. Then, putting hisarmy on shipboard again, he sailed across the narrow strait betweenEuboea and Attica, and landed on Attic soil, in the ever-memorable Bayof Marathon. 

It seemed now, truly, as if Darius was about to gain his wish andrevenge himself on Athens. The plain of Marathon, where the greatPersian army had landed and lay encamped, is but twenty-two miles fromAthens by the nearest road, --scarcely a day's march. The plain is aboutsix miles long, and from a mile and a half to three miles in width, extending back from the sea-shore to the rugged hills and mountainswhich rise to bind it in. A brook flows across it to the sea, andmarshes occupy its ends. Such was the field on which one of the decisivebattles of the world was about to be fought. 

[Illustration: RUINS OF THE PARTHENON. ]

The coming of the Persians had naturally filled the Athenians and allthe neighboring nations of Greece with alarm. Yet if any Athenian had athought of submission without fighting, he was wise enough to keep it tohimself. The Athenians of that day were a very different people fromwhat they had been fifty years before, when they tamely submitted to thetyranny of Pisistratus. They had gained new laws, and with them a newspirit. They were the freest people upon the earth, --a democracy inwhich every man was the equal of every other, and in which each had afull voice in the government of the state. They had their politicalleaders, it is true, but these were their fellow-citizens, who ruledthrough intellect, not through despotism. 

There were now three such men in Athens, --men who have won an enduringfame. One of these was that Miltiades who had counselled the destructionof Darius's bridge of boats. The others were named Themistocles andAristides, concerning whom we shall have more to say. These three wereamong the ten generals who commanded the army of Athens, and each ofwhom, according to the new laws, was to have command for a day. It wasfortunate for the Athenians that they had the wit to set aside this lawon this important occasion, since such a divided generalship must surelyhave led to defeat and disaster. 

But before telling what action was taken there is an important episodeto relate. Athens--as was common with the Greek cities whenthreatened--did not fail to send to Sparta for aid. When the Persianslanded at Marathon, a swift courier, Phidippides by name, was sent tothat city for assistance, and so fleet of foot was he that he performedthe journey, of one hundred and fifty miles, in forty-eight hours' time. 

The Spartans, who knew that the fall of Athens would soon be followed bythat of their own city, promised aid without hesitation. Butsuperstition stood in their way. It was, unfortunately, only the ninthday of the moon. Ancient custom forbade them to march until the moon hadpassed its full. This would be five days yet, --five days which mightcause the ruin of Greece. But old laws and observances held dominion atSparta, and, whatever came from it, the moon must pass its full beforethe army could march. 

When this decision was brought back by the courier to Athens it greatlydisturbed the public mind. Of the ten generals, five strongly counselledthat they should wait for Spartan help. The other five were in favor ofimmediate action. Delay was dangerous with an enemy at their door andmany timid and doubtless some treacherous citizens within their walls. 

Fortunately, there was an eleventh general, Callimachus, the war archon, or polemarch, who had a casting vote in the council of generals, andwho, under persuasion of Miltiades, cast his vote for an immediate marchto Marathon. The other generals who favored this action gave up toMiltiades their days of command, making him sole leader for that lengthof time. Herodotus says that he refused to fight till his own day cameregularly round, --but we can scarcely believe that a general of hisability would risk defeat on such a childish point of honor. If so, heshould have been a Spartan, and waited for the passing of the full moon. 

To Marathon, then, the men of Athens marched, and from its surroundinghills looked down on the great Persian army that lay encamped beneath, and on the fleet which seemed to fill the sea. Of those brave men therewere no more than ten thousand. And from all Greece but one small bandcame to join them, a thousand men from the little town of Platæa. Thenumbers of the foe we do not know. They may have been two hundredthousand in all, though how many of these landed and took part in thebattle no one can tell. Doubtless they outnumbered the Athenians morethan ten to one. 

Far along the plain stretched the lines of the Persians, with theirfleet behind them, extended along the beach. On the high ground in therear were marshalled the Greeks, spread out so long that their line wasperilously thin. The space of a mile separated the two armies. 

And now, at the command of Miltiades, the valiant Athenians crossed thisdividing space at a full run, sounding their pæan or war-cry as theyadvanced. Miltiades was bent on coming to close quarters at once, so asto prevent the enemy from getting their bowmen and cavalry at work. 

The Persians, on seeing this seeming handful of men, without archers orhorsemen, advancing at a run upon their great array, deemed at firstthat the Greeks had gone mad and were rushing wildly to destruction. Theringing war-cry astounded them, --a Greek pæan was new music to theirears. And when the hoplites of Athens and Platæa broke upon their ranks, thrusting and hewing with spear and sword, and with the strength gainedfrom exercises in the gymnasium, dread of these courageous and furiouswarriors filled their souls. On both wings the Persian lines broke andfled for their ships. But in the centre, where Datis had placed his bestmen, and where the Athenian line was thinnest, the Greeks, breathlessfrom their long run, were broken and driven back. Seeing this, Miltiadesbrought up his victorious wings, attacked the centre with his entireforce, and soon had the whole Persian army in full flight for its ships. 

The marshes swallowed up many of the fleeing host. Hundreds fell beforethe arms of the victors. Into the ships poured in terror those who hadescaped, followed hotly by the victorious Greeks, who made strenuousefforts to set the ships on fire and destroy the entire host. In thisthey failed. The Persians, made desperate by their peril, drove themback. The fleet hastily set sail, leaving few prisoners, but abandoninga rich harvest of tents and equipments to the victorious Greeks. Of thePersian host, some sixty-four hundred lay dead on the field, the shipshaving saved them from further slaughter. The Greek loss in dead wasonly one hundred and ninety-two. 

Yet, despite this signal victory, Greece was still in imminent danger. Athens was undefended. The fleeing fleet might reach and capture itbefore the army could return. In truth, the ships had sailed in thisdirection, and from the top of a lofty hill Miltiades saw the polishedsurface of a shield flash in the sunlight, and quickly guessed what itmeant. It was a signal made by some traitor to the Persian fleet. Putting his army at once under march, despite the weariness of thevictors, he hastened back over the long twenty-two miles at all possiblespeed, and the worn-out troops reached Athens barely in time to save itfrom the approaching fleet. 

The triumph of Miltiades was complete. Only for his quickness inguessing the meaning of the flashing shield, and the rapidity of hismarch, all the results of his great victory would have been lost, andAthens fallen helpless into Persian arms. But Datis, finding the cityamply garrisoned, and baffled at every point, turned his ships andsailed in defeat away, leaving the Athenians masters of city and field. 

And now the Spartans--to whom the full moon had come too late--appeared, two thousand strong, only in time to congratulate the victors and viewthe dead Persians on the field. They had marched the whole distance inless than three days. As for the Athenian dead, they were buried withgreat ceremony on the plain where they fell, and the great mound whichcovers them is visible there to this day. 

_XERXES AND HIS ARMY. _

The defeat of the Persian army at Marathon redoubled the wrath of KingDarius against the Athenians. He resolved in his autocratic mind tosweep that pestilent city and all whom it contained from the face of theearth. And he perhaps would have done so had he not met a more terriblefoe even than Miltiades and his army, --the all-conqueror Death, to whosemight the greatest monarchs must succumb. Burning with fury, Dariusordered the levy of a mighty army, and for three years busy preparationsfor war went on throughout the vast empire of Persia. But, just as themustering was done and he was about to march, that grisly foe Deathstruck him down in the midst of his schemes of conquest, and Greece wassaved, --the great Darius was no more. 

Xerxes, son of Darius, succeeded him on the throne. This new monarch wasthe handsomest and stateliest man in all his army. But his fair outsidecovered a weak nature; timid, faint-hearted, vain, conceited, he was notthe man to conquer Greece, small as it was and great as was the empireunder his control; and the death of Darius was in all probability thesalvation of Greece. 

Xerxes succeeded not only to the throne of Persia, but also to the vastarmy which his father had brought together. He succeeded, moreover, to awar, for Egypt was in revolt. But this did not last long; the army wasat once set in motion, Egypt was quickly subdued, and the Egyptiansfound themselves under a worse tyranny than before. 

Greece remained to conquer, and for that enterprise the timid Persianking was not eager. Marathon could not be forgotten. Those fierceAthenians who had defeated his father's great host were not to be dealtwith so easily as the unwarlike Egyptians. He held back irresolute, nowpersuaded to war by one councillor, now to peace by another, andfinally--so we are told--driven to war by a dream, in which a tall, stately man appeared to him and with angry countenance commanded him notto abandon the enterprise which his father had designed. This dream cameto him again the succeeding night, and when Artabanus, his uncle, andthe advocate of peace, was made to sit on his throne and sleep in hisbed, the same figure appeared to him, and threatened to burn out hiseyes if he still opposed the war. Artabanus, stricken with terror, nowcounselled war, and Xerxes determined on the invasion of Greece. 

This story we are told by Herodotus, who told many things which it isnot very safe to believe. What we really know is that Xerxes began themost stupendous preparations for war that had ever been known, and addedto the army left by his father until he had got together the greatesthost the world had yet beheld. For four years those preparations, towhich Darius had already given three years of time, were activelycontinued. Horsemen and foot-soldiers, ships of war, transports, provisions, and supplies of all kinds were collected far and near, thevanity of Xerxes probably inciting him to astonish the world by thegreatness of his army. 

In the autumn of the year 481 B. C. This vast army, marching from allparts of the mighty empire, reached Lydia and gathered in and around thecity of Sardis, the old capital of Croesus. Besides the land army, afleet of twelve hundred and seven ships of war, and numerous othervessels, were collected, and large magazines of provisions were formedat points along the whole line of march. For years flour and other food, from Asia and Egypt, had been stored in cities on the route, that thefatal enemy starvation might not attack the mighty host. 

Two important questions occupied the mind of Xerxes. How was he to gethis vast army on European soil, and how escape those dangers from stormwhich had wrecked his father's fleet? He might cross the sea in ships, as Datis had done, --and be like him defeated. Xerxes thought it safestto keep on solid land, and decided to build a bridge of boats across theHellespont, that ocean river now known as the Dardanelles, the first ofthe two straits which connect the Mediterranean with the Black Sea. Asfor the other trouble, that of storms at sea, he remembered the greatgale which had wrecked the fleet of Mardonius off the stormy cape ofMount Athos, and determined to avoid this danger. A narrow neck of landconnects Mount Athos with the mainland. Xerxes ordered that a ship-canalshould be cut through this isthmus, wide and deep enough to allow twotriremes--war-ships with three ranks of oars--to sail abreast. 

This work was done by the Phoenicians, the ablest engineers at thattime in the world. A canal was made through which his whole fleet couldsail, and thus the stormy winds and waves which hovered about MountAthos be avoided. 

This work was successfully done, but not so the bridge of boats. Hardlyhad the latter been completed, when there came so violent a storm thatthe cables were snapped like pack-thread and the bridge swept away. Withthe weakness of a man of small mind, on hearing of this disaster Xerxesburst into a fit of insane rage. He ordered that the heads of the chiefengineers should be cut off, but this was far from satisfying his anger. The elements had risen against his might, and the elements themselvesmust be punished. The Hellespont should be scourged for its temerity, and three hundred lashes were actually given the water, while a set offetters were cast into its depths. It is further said that the water wasbranded with hot irons, but it is hard to believe that even Xerxes wassuch a fool as this would make him. 

The rebellious water thus punished, Xerxes regained his wits, andordered that the bridge should be rebuilt more strongly than before. Huge cables were made, some of flax, some of papyrus fibre, to anchorthe ships in the channel and to bind them to the shore. Two bridges wereconstructed, composed of large ships laid side by side in the water, while over each of them stretched six great cables, to moor them to theland and to support the wooden causeway. In one of these bridges no lessthan three hundred and sixty ships were employed. 

And now, everything being ready, the mighty army began its march. Itpresented a grand spectacle as it made its way from Sardis to the sea. First of all came the baggage, borne on thousands of camels and otherbeasts of burden. Then came one-half the infantry. The other halfmarched in the rear, while between them were Xerxes and his greatbody-guard, which is thus described by the Greek historian:

First came a thousand Persian cavalry and as many spearmen, each of thelatter having a golden pomegranate on the rear end of his spear, whichwas carried in the air, the point being turned downward. Then came tensacred horses, splendidly caparisoned, and following them rolled thesacred chariot of Zeus, drawn by eight white horses. This was succeededby the chariot of Xerxes himself, who was immediately attended by athousand horse-guards, the choicest troops of the kingdom, of whosespears the ends glittered with golden apples. Then came detachments ofone thousand horse, ten thousand foot, and ten thousand horse. Thesefoot-soldiers, called the Immortals, because their number was alwaysmaintained, had pomegranates of silver on their spears, with theexception of one thousand, who marched in front and rear and on thesides, and bore pomegranates of gold. After these household troopsfollowed the vast remaining host. 

The army of Xerxes was, as we have said, superior in numbers to any theworld had ever seen. Forty-six nations had sent their quotas to thehost, each with its different costume, arms, mode of march, and systemof fighting. Only those from Asia Minor bore such arms as the Greekswere used to fight with. Most of the others were armed with javelins orother light weapons, and bore slight shields or none at all. Some camearmed only with daggers and a lasso like that used on the Americanplains. The Ethiopians from the Upper Nile had their bodies painted halfred and half white, wore lion-and panther-skins, and carried javelinsand bows. Few of the whole army bore the heavy weapons or displayed thesolid fighting phalanx of those whom they had come to meet in war. 

As to the number of men thus brought together from half the continent ofAsia we cannot be sure. Xerxes, after reaching Europe, took an odd wayof counting his army. Ten thousand men were counted and packed closetogether. Then a line was drawn around them, and a wall built about thespace. The whole army was then marched in successive detachments intothis walled enclosure. Herodotus tells us that there were one hundredand seventy of these divisions, which would make the whole army onemillion seven hundred thousand foot. In addition there were eightythousand horse, many war-chariots, and a fleet of twelve hundred andseven triremes and three thousand smaller vessels. According toHerodotus, the whole host, soldiers and sailors, numbered two millionsix hundred and forty thousand men, and there were as many or morecamp-followers, so that the whole number present, according to thisestimate, was over five million men. It is not easy to believe that sucha marching host as this could be fed, and it has probably been muchexaggerated; yet there is no doubt that the host was vast enough almostto blow away all the armies of Greece with the wind of its coming. 

On leaving Sardis a frightful spectacle was provided by Xerxes: the armyfound itself marching between two halves of a slaughtered man. Pythius, an old Phrygian of great riches, had entertained Xerxes with muchhospitality, and offered him all his wealth, amounting to two thousandtalents of silver and nearly four million darics of gold. This generousoffer Xerxes declined, and gave Pythius enough gold to make up hisdarics to an even four millions. Then, when the army was about to march, the old man told Xerxes that he had five sons in the army, and beggedthat one of them, the eldest, might be left with him as a stay to hisdeclining years. Instantly the despot burst into a rage. The request ofexemption from military service was in Persia an unpardonable offence. The hospitality of Pythius was forgotten, and Xerxes ordered that hisson should be slain, and half the body hung on each side of the army, probably as a salutary warning to all who should have the temerity toquestion the despot's arbitrary will. 

On marched the great army. It crossed the plain of Troy, and hereXerxes offered libations in honor of the heroes of the Trojan war, thestory of which was told him. Reaching the Hellespont, he had a marblethrone erected, from which to view the passage of his troops. Thebridges--which the scourged and branded waters had now spared--wereperfumed with frankincense and strewed with myrtle boughs, and, as themarch began, Xerxes offered prayers to the sun, and made libations tothe sea with a golden censer, which he then flung into the water, together with a golden bowl and a Persian scimitar, perhaps to repay theHellespont for the stripes he had inflicted upon it. 

At the first moment of sunrise the passage began, the troops marchingacross one bridge, the baggage and attendants crossing the other. Allday the march continued, and all night long, the whip being used toaccelerate the troops; yet so vast was the host that for seven days andnights, without cessation, the army moved on, and a week was at its endbefore the last man of the great Persian host set foot on European soil. 

Then down through the Grecian peninsula Xerxes marched, doubtlessinflated with pride at the greatness of his host and the might of thefleet which sailed down the neighboring seas and through the canal whichhe had cut to baffle stormy Athos. One regret alone seemed to come intohis mind, and that was that in a hundred years not one man of that vastarmy would be alive. It did not occur to him that in less than one yearfew of them might be alive, for all thought of any peril to his armyand fleet from the insignificant numbers of the Greeks must have beendismissed with scorn from his mind. 

Like locusts the army marched southward through Thrace, eating up thecities as it advanced, for each was required to provide a day's mealsfor the mighty host. For months those cities had been engaged inproviding the food which this army consumed in a day. Many of the citieswere brought to the verge of ruin, and all of them were glad to see thearmy march on. At length Xerxes saw before him Mount Olympus, on thenorthern boundary of the land of Hellas or Greece. This was the end ofhis own dominions. He was now about to enter the territory of his foes. With what fortune he did so must be left for later tales. 

_HOW THE SPARTANS DIED AT THERMOPYLÆ. _

When Xerxes, as his father had done before him, sent to the Greciancities to demand earth and water in token of submission, no heralds weresent to Athens or Sparta. These truculent cities had flung the heraldsof Darius into deep pits, bidding them to take earth and water fromthere and carry it to the great king. This act called for revenge, andwhatever mercy he might show to the rest of Greece, Athens and Spartawere doomed in his mind to be swept from the face of the earth. How theyescaped this dismal fate is what we have next to tell. 

As one of the great men of Athens, Miltiades, had saved his native landin the former Persian invasion, so a second patriotic citizen, Themistocles, proved her savior in the dread peril which now threatenedher. But the work of Themistocles was not done in a single great battle, as at Marathon, but in years of preparation. And a war between Athensand the neighboring island of Ægina had much to do with this escape fromruin. 

To make war upon an island a land army was of no avail. A fleet wasnecessary. The Athenians were accustomed to a commercial, though not toa warlike, life upon the sea. Many of them were active, daring, andskilful sailors, and when Themistocles urged that they should build apowerful fleet he found approving listeners. Longer of sight than hisfellow-citizens, he warned them of the coming peril from Persia. Theconflict with the small island of Ægina was a small matter compared withthat threatened by the great kingdom of Persia. But to prepare againstone was to prepare against both. And Athens was just then rich. Itpossessed valuable silver-mines at Laurium, in Attica, from which muchwealth came to the state. This money Themistocles urged the citizens touse in building ships, and they were wise enough to take his advice, twohundred ships of war being built. These ships, as it happened, were notused for the purpose originally intended, that of the war with Ægina. But they proved of inestimable service to Athens in the Persian war. 

[Illustration: THE PLACE OF ASSEMBLY OF THE ATHENIANS. ]

The vast preparations of Xerxes were not beheld without deep terror inGreece. Spies were sent into Persia to discover what was being done. They were captured and condemned to death, but Xerxes ordered that theyshould be shown his total army and fleet, and then sent home to reportwhat they had seen. He hoped thus to double the terror of the Grecianstates. 

At home two things were done. Athens and Sparta called a congress of allthe states of Greece on the Isthmus of Corinth, and urged them to layaside all petty feuds and combine for defence against the common foe. Itwas the greatest and most successful congress that Greece had ever yetheld. All wars came to an end. That between Athens and Ægina ceased, and the fleet which Athens had built was laid aside for a greater need. The other thing was that step always taken in Greece in times of peril, to send to the temple at Delphi and obtain from the oracle the sacredadvice which was deemed so indispensable. 

The reply received by Athens was terrifying. "Quit your land and cityand flee afar!" cried the prophetess. "Fire and sword, in the train ofthe Syrian chariot, shall overwhelm you. Get ye away from the sanctuary, with your souls steeped in sorrow. "

The envoys feared to carry back such a sentence to Athens. They imploredthe priestess for a more comforting reply, and were given the followingenigma to solve: "This assurance I will give you, firm as adamant. Wheneverything else in the land of Cecrops shall be taken, Zeus grants toAthené that the wooden wall alone shall remain unconquered, to defendyou and your children. Stand not to await the assailing horse and footfrom the continent, but turn your backs and retire; you shall yet liveto fight another day. O divine Salamis, thou too shalt destroy thechildren of women, either at the seed-time or at the harvest. "

Here was some hope, though small. "The wooden wall"? What could it bebut the fleet? This was the general opinion of the Athenians. But shouldthey fight? Should they not rather abandon Attica forever, take to theirwooden walls, and seek a new home afar? Salamis was to destroy thechildren of women! Did not this portend disaster in case of a navalbattle?

The fate of Athens now hung upon a thread. Had its people fled to adistant land, one of the greatest chapters in the history of the worldwould never have been written. But now Themistocles, to whom Athens owedits fleet, came forward as its savior. If the oracle, he declared, hadmeant that the Greeks should be destroyed, it would have called Salamis, where the battle was to be fought, "wretched Salamis. " But it had said"divine Salamis. " What did this mean but that it was not the Greeks, butthe enemies of Greece, who were to be destroyed? He begged hiscountrymen not to desert their country, but to fight boldly for itssafety. Fortunately for Athens, his solution of the riddle was accepted, and the city set itself diligently to building more ships, that theymight have as powerful a fleet as possible when the Persians came. 

But not only Athens was to be defended; all Greece was in peril; theinvaders must be met by land as well as by sea. Greece is traversed bymountain ranges, which cross from sea to sea, leaving only difficultmountain paths and narrow seaside passes. One of these was the long andwinding defile to Tempé, between Mounts Olympus and Ossa, on thenorthern boundary of Greece. There a few men could keep back a numeroushost, and thither at first marched the small army which dared to opposethe Persian millions, a little band of ten thousand men, under thecommand of a Spartan general. 

But they did not remain there. The Persians were still distant, andwhile the Greeks awaited their approach new counsels prevailed. Therewas another pass by which the mountains might be crossed, --which pass, in fact, the Persians took. Also the fleet might land thousands of menin their rear. On the whole it was deemed best to retreat to anotherpass, much farther south, the famous pass of Thermopylæ. Here was a roada mile in width, where were warm springs; and at each end were narrowpasses, called gates, --the name Thermopylæ meaning "hot gates. "Adjoining was a narrow strait, between the mainland and the island ofEuboea, where the Greek fleet might keep back the Persian host ofships. There was an old wall across the pass, now in ruins. This theGreeks rebuilt, and there the devoted band, now not more than seventhousand in all, waited the coming of the mighty Persian host. 

It was in late June, of the year 480 B. C. , that the Grecian army, led byLeonidas, king of Sparta, marched to this defile. There were but threehundred Spartans[3] in his force, with small bodies of men from theother states of Greece. The fleet, less than three hundred ships in all, took post beside them in the strait. And here they waited while day byday the Persian hordes marched southward over the land. 

The first conflict took place between some vessels of the fleets, whereupon the Grecian admirals, filled with sudden fright, sailedsouthward and left the army to the mercy of the Persian ships. Fortunately for Greece, thus deserted in her need, a strong ally nowcame to the rescue. The gods of the winds had been implored with prayer. The answer came in the form of a frightful hurricane, which struck thegreat fleet while it lay at anchor, and hurled hundreds of ships on therocky shore. For three days the storm continued, and when it ended morethan four hundred ships of war, with a multitude of transports andprovision craft, were wrecked, while the loss of life had been immense. The Greek fleet had escaped this disaster, and now, with renewedcourage, came sailing back to the post it had abandoned, and so quicklyas to capture fifteen vessels of the Persian fleet. 

While this gale prevailed Xerxes and his army lay encamped beforeThermopylæ, the king in terror for his fleet, which he was told had beenall destroyed. As for the Greeks, he laughed them to scorn. He was toldthat a handful of Spartans and other Greeks were posted in the pass, andsent a horseman to tell him what was to be seen. The horseman rode nearthe pass, and saw there the wall and outside it the small Spartan force, some of whom were engaged in gymnastic exercises, while others werecombing their long hair. 

The great king was astonished and puzzled at this news. He waitedexpecting the few Greeks to disperse and leave the pass open to hisarmy. The fourth day came and went, and they were still there. ThenXerxes bade the Median and Kissian divisions of his army to advance, seize these insolent fellows, and bring them to him as prisoners of war. Forward went his troops, and entered the throat of the narrow pass, where their bows and arrows were of little use, and they must fight theGreeks hand to hand. And now the Spartan arms and discipline told. Withtheir long spears, spreading shields, steady ranks, and rigiddiscipline, the Greeks were far more than a match for the light weapons, slight shields, and open ranks of their foes. The latter had only theirnumbers, and numbers there were of little avail. They fell by hundreds, while the Greeks met with little loss. For two days the combatcontinued, fresh defenders constantly replacing the weary ones, and awall of Persian dead being heaped up outside the wall of stone. 

Then, as a last resort, the Immortals, --the Persian guard of tenthousand, --with other choice troops, were sent; and these were drivenback with the same slaughter as the rest. The fleet in the straitdoubtless warmly cheered on the brave hoplites in the pass; but as forXerxes, "Thrice, " says Herodotus, "did he spring from his throne, inagony for his army. "

The deed of a traitor rendered useless this noble defence. A recreantGreek, Ephialtes by name, sought Xerxes and told him of a mountain passover which he could guide a band to attack the defenders of Thermopylæin the rear. A strong Persian detachment was ordered to cross the pass, and did so under shelter of the night. At daybreak they reached thesummit, where a thousand Greeks from Phocis had been stationed as aguard. These men, surprised, and overwhelmed with a shower of arrows, fled up the mountain-side, and left the way open to the Persians, whopursued their course down the mountain, and at mid-day reached the rearof the pass of Thermopylæ. 

Leonidas had heard of their coming. Scouts had brought him word. Thedefence of the pass was at an end. They must fly or be crushed. Acouncil was hastily called, and it was decided to retreat. But thisdecision was not joined in by Leonidas and his gallant three hundred. The honor of Sparta would not permit her king to yield a pass which hehad been sent to defend. The laws of his country required that he shouldconquer or die at his post. It was too late to conquer; but he couldstill die. With him and his three hundred remained the Thespians andThebans, seven hundred of the former and about four hundred of thelatter. The remainder of the army withdrew. 

Xerxes had arranged to wait till noon, at which hour the defenders ofthe pass were to be attacked in front and rear. But Leonidas did notwait. All he and his men had now to do was to sell their lives as dearlyas possible, so they marched outside the pass, attacked the front of thePersian host, drove them back, and killed them in multitudes, many ofthem being driven to perish in the sea and the morass. The Persianofficers kept their men to the deadly work by threats and the liberaluse of the whip. 

But one by one the Spartans fell. Their spears were broken, and theyfought with their swords. Leonidas sank in death, but his men fought onmore fiercely still, to keep the foe back from his body. Here many ofthe Persian chiefs perished, among them two brothers of Xerxes. It waslike a combat of the Iliad rather than a contest in actual war. Finallythe Greeks, worn out, reduced in numbers, their best weapons gone, fellback behind the wall, bearing the body of their chief. Here they stillfought, with daggers, with their unarmed hands, even with their mouths, until the last man fell dead. 

The Thebans alone yielded themselves as prisoners, saying that they hadbeen kept in the pass against their will. Of the thousand Spartans andThespians, not a man remained alive. 

Meanwhile the fleets had been engaged, to the advantage of the Greeks, while another storm that suddenly rose wrecked two hundred more of thePersian ships on Euboea's rocky coast. When word came that Thermopylæhad fallen the Grecian fleet withdrew, sailed round the Attic coast, andstopped not again until the island of Salamis was reached. 

As for Leonidas and his Spartans, they had died, but had wonimperishable fame. The same should be said for the Thespians as well, but history has largely ignored their share in the glorious deed. Inafter-days an inscription was set up which gave all glory to thePeloponnesian heroes without a word for the noble Thespian band. Anothercelebrated inscription honored the Spartans alone:

 "Go, stranger, and to Lacedæmon tell That here, obeying her behests, we fell, "

or, in plain prose, "Stranger, tell the Lacedæmonians that we lie here, in obedience to their orders. "

On the hillock where the last of the faithful band died was erected amonument with a marble lion in honor of Leonidas, while on it was carvedthe following epitaph, written by the poet Simonides:

 "In dark Thermopylæ they lie. Oh, death of glory, thus to die! Their tomb an altar is, their name A mighty heritage of fame. Their dirge is triumph; cankering rust, And time, that turneth all to dust, That tomb shall never waste nor hide, -- The tomb of warriors true and tried. The full-voiced praise of Greece around Lies buried in this sacred mound; Where Sparta's king, Leonidas, In death eternal glory has!"

_THE WOODEN WALLS OF ATHENS. _

The slaughter of the defenders of Thermopylæ exposed Athens to theonslaught of the vast Persian army, which would soon be on the soil ofAttica. A few days' march would bring the invaders to its capital city, which they would overwhelm as a flight of locusts destroys a cultivatedfield. The states of the Peloponnesus, with a selfish regard for theirown safety, had withdrawn all their soldiers within the peninsula, andbegan hastily to build a wall across the isthmus of Corinth with thehope of keeping back the invading army. Athens was left to care foritself. It was thus that Greece usually let itself be devouredpiecemeal. 

There was but one thing for the Athenians to do, to obey the oracle andfly from their native soil. In a few days the Persians would be inAthens, and there was not an hour to lose. The old men, the women andchildren, with such property as could be moved, were hastily taken onshipboard and carried to Salamis, Ægina, Troezen, and otherneighboring islands. The men of fighting age took to their ships of war, to fight on the sea for what they had lost on land. A few of the old andthe poverty-stricken remained, and took possession of the hill of theAcropolis, whose wooden fence they fondly fancied might be the woodenwall which the oracle had meant. Apart from these few the city wasdeserted, and Athens had embarked upon the seas. Not only Athens, butall Attica, was left desolate, and in the whole state Xerxes made onlyfive hundred prisoners of war. 

Onward came the great Persian host, destroying all that could bedestroyed on Attic soil, and sending out detachments to ravage otherparts of Greece. The towns that submitted were spared. Those thatresisted, or whose inhabitants fled, were pillaged and burnt. A body oftroops was sent to plunder Delphi, the reputed great wealth of whosetemple promised a rich reward. The story of what happened there is acurious one, and well worth relating. 

The frightened Delphians prepared to fly, but first asked the oracle ofApollo whether they should take with them the sacred treasures or burythem in secret places. The oracle bade them not to touch thesetreasures, saying that the god would protect his own. With thisadmonition the people of Delphi fled, sixty only of their numberremaining to guard the holy shrine. 

These faithful few were soon encouraged by a prodigy. The sacred arms, kept in the temple's inmost cell, and which no mortal hand dared touch, were seen lying before the temple door, as if Apollo was preparedhimself to use them. As the Persians advanced by a rugged path under thesteep cliffs of Mount Parnassus, and reached the temple of AthenéPronæa, a dreadful peal of thunder rolled above their affrighted heads, and two great crags, torn from the mountain's flank, came rushing downwith deafening sound, and buried many of them beneath their weight. Atthe same time, from the temple of Athené, came the Greek shout of war. 

In a panic the invaders turned and fled, hotly pursued by the fewDelphians, and, so the story goes, by two armed men of superhuman size, whose destructive arms wrought dire havoc in the fleeing host. And thus, as we are told, did the god preserve his temple and his wealth. 

But no god guarded the road to Athens, and at length Xerxes and his armyreached that city, --four months after they had crossed the Hellespont. It was an empty city they found. The few defenders of the Acropolis--acraggy hill about one hundred and fifty feet high--made a vigorousdefence, for a time keeping the whole Persian army at bay. But somePersians crept up a steep and unguarded part of the wall, entered thecitadel, and soon all its defenders were dead, and its temples andbuildings in flames. 

While all this was going on, the Grecian fleet lay but a few miles away, in the narrow strait between the isle of Salamis and the Attic coast, occupying the little bay before the town of Salamis, from which narrowchannels at each end led into the Bay of Eleusis to the north and theopen sea to the south. In front rose the craggy heights of MountÆgaleos, over which, only five miles away, could be seen ascending thelurid smoke of blazing Athens. It was a spectacle calculated toinfuriate the Athenians, though not one to inspire them with courageand hope. 

The fleet of Greece consisted of three hundred and sixty-six ships inall, of which Athens supplied two hundred, while the remainder came insmall numbers from the various Grecian states. The Persian fleet, despite its losses by storm, far outnumbered that of Greece, and camesweeping down the Attic coast, confident of victory, while the greatarmy marched southward over Attic land. 

And now two councils of war were held, --one by the Persian leaders, oneby the Greeks. The fleet of Xerxes, probably still a thousand shipsstrong, lay in the Bay of Phalerum, a few miles from Athens; and hitherthe king, having wrought his will on that proud and insolent city, cameto the coast to inspect his ships of war and take counsel as to whatshould next be done. 

Here, before his royal throne, were seated the kings of Tyre and Sidon, and the rulers of the many other nations represented in his army. One byone they were asked what should be done. "Fight, " was the general reply;"fight without delay. " Only one voice gave different advice, that ofQueen Artemisia of Halicarnassus. She advised Xerxes to march to theisthmus of Corinth, saying that then all the ships of the Peloponnesuswould fly to defend their own homes, and the fleet of Greece would thusbe dispersed. Xerxes heard her with calmness, but declined to take herprudent advice. The voice of the others and his own confidenceprevailed, and orders were given for the fleet to make its attack thenext day. 

The almost unanimous decision of this council, over which ruled thewill of an autocratic king, was very different from that which wasreached by the Greeks, in whose council all who spoke had equalauthority. The fleet had come to Salamis to aid the flight of theAthenians. This done, it was necessary to decide where it was best tomeet the Persian fleet. Only the Athenians, under the leadership ofThemistocles, favored remaining where they were. The others perceivedthat if they were defeated here, escape would be impossible. Most ofthem wished to sail to the isthmus of Corinth, to aid the land army ofthe Peloponnesians, while various other plans were urged. 

While the chiefs thus debated news came that Athens and the Acropoliswere in flames. At once some of the captains left the council in alarm, and began hastily to hoist sail for flight. Those that remained voted toremove to the isthmus, but not to start till the morning of the nextday. 

Themistocles, who had done his utmost to prevent this fatal decision, which he knew would end in the dispersal of the fleet and the triumph ofPersia, returned to his own ship sad of heart. Many of the women andchildren of Athens were on the island of Salamis, and if the fleetsailed they, too, must be removed. 

"What has the council decided?" asked his friend Mnesiphilus. 

Themistocles gloomily told him. 

"This will be ruinous!" burst out Mnesiphilus. "Soon there will be noallied fleet, nor any cause or country to fight for. You must have thecouncil meet again; this vote must be set aside; if it be carried outthe liberty of Greece is at an end. "

So strongly did he insist upon this that Themistocles was inspired tomake another effort. He went at once to the ship of Eurybiades, theSpartan who had been chosen admiral of the fleet, and represented thecase so earnestly to him that Eurybiades was partly convinced, andconsented to call the council together again. 

Here Themistocles was so excitedly eager that he sought to win thechiefs over to his views even before Eurybiades had formally opened themeeting and explained its object. For this he was chided by theCorinthian Adeimantus, who said, --

"Themistocles, those who in the public festivals rise up before theproper signal are scourged. "

"True, " said Themistocles; "but those who lag behind the signal win nocrowns. "

When the debate was formally opened, Themistocles was doubly urgent inhis views, and continued his arguments until Adeimantus burst out in arage, bidding him, a man who had no city, to be silent. 

This attack drew a bitter answer from the insulted Athenian. If he hadno city, he said, he had around him two hundred ships, with which hecould win a city and country better than Corinth. Then he turned toEurybiades, and said, --

"If you will stay and fight bravely here, all will be well. If yourefuse to stay, you will bring all Greece to ruin. If you will not stay, we Athenians will migrate with our ships and families. Then, chiefs, when you lose an ally like us, you will remember what I say, and regretwhat you have done. "

[Illustration: THE VICTORS AT SALAMIS. ]

These words convinced Eurybiades. Without the Athenian ships the fleetwould indeed be powerless. He asked for no vote, but gave the word thatthey should stay and fight, and bade the captains to make ready forbattle. Thus it was that at dawn of day the fleet, instead of being infull flight, remained drawn up in battle array in the Bay of Salamis. The Peloponnesian chiefs, however, were not content. They held a secretcouncil, and resolved to steal secretly away. This treacherous purposecame to the ears of Themistocles, and to prevent it he took a desperatecourse. He sent a secret message to Xerxes, telling him that the Greekfleet was about to fly, and that if he wished to capture it he must atonce close up both ends of the strait, so that flight would beimpossible. 

He cunningly represented himself as a secret friend of the Persian king, who lost no time in taking the advice. When the next day's dawn was athand the discontented chiefs were about to fly, as they had secretlyresolved, when a startling message came to their ears. Aristides, anoble Athenian who had been banished, but had now returned, came on thefleet from Salamis and told them that only battle was left, that thePersians had cooped them in like birds in a cage, and that there wasnothing to do but to fight or surrender. 

This disturbing message was not at first believed. But it was quicklyconfirmed. Persian ships appeared at both ends of the strait. Themistocles had won. Escape was impossible. They must do battle likeheroes or live as Persian slaves. There was but one decision, --to fight. The dawn of day found the Greeks actively preparing for the most famousnaval battle of ancient times. 

The combat about to be fought had the largest audience of any navalbattle the world has ever known. For the vast army of Persia was drawnup as spectators on the verge of the narrow strait which held thewarring fleets, and Xerxes himself sat on a lofty throne erected at apoint which closely overlooked the liquid plain. His presence, he feltsure, would fill his seamen with valor, while by his side stood scribesprepared to write down the names alike of the valorous and the backwardcombatants. On the other hand, the people of Athens and Attica lookedwith hope and fear on the scene from the island of Salamis. It was aunique preparation for a battle at sea, such as was never known beforeor since that day. 

The fleet of Persia outnumbered that of Greece three to one. But thePersian seamen had been busy all night long in carrying out the plan toentrap the Greeks, and were weary with labor. The Greeks had risen freshand vigorous from their night's rest. And different spirits animated thetwo hosts. The Persians were moved solely by the desire for glory; theGreeks by the stern alternatives of victory, slavery, or death. Thesedifferences in strength and motive went far to negative the differencein numbers; and the Greeks, caught like lions in a snare, dashed intothe combat with the single feeling that they must now fight or die. 

History tells us that the Greeks hesitated at first; but soon the shipof Ameinias, an Athenian captain, dashed against a Phoenician triremewith such fury that the two became closely entangled. While their crewsfought vigorously with spear and javelin, other ships from both sidesdashed to their aid, and soon numbers of the war triremes were fiercelyengaged. 

The battle that followed was hot and furious, the ships becoming mingledin so confused a mass that no eye could follow their evolutions. Soonthe waters of the Bay of Salamis ran red with blood. Broken oars, fallenspars, shattered vessels, filled the strait. Hundreds were hurled intothe waters, --the Persians, few of whom could swim, to sink; the Greeks, who were skilful swimmers, to seek the shore of Salamis or some friendlydeck. 

From the start the advantage lay with the Greeks. The narrowness of thestrait rendered the great numbers of the Persians of no avail. Thesuperior discipline of the Greeks gave them a further advantage. Thewant of concert in the Persian allies was another aid to the Greeks. They were ready to run one another down in the wild desire to escape. Soon the Persian fleet became a disorderly mass of flying ships, theGreek fleet a well-ordered array of furious pursuers. In panic thePersians fled; in exultation the Greeks pursued. One trireme of Naxoscaptured five Persian ships. A brother of Xerxes was slain by anAthenian spear. Great numbers of distinguished Persians and Medes sharedhis fate. Before the day was old the battle on the Persian side hadbecome a frantic effort to escape, while some of the choicest troops ofPersia, who had been landed before the battle on the island ofPsyttaleia, were attacked by Aristides at the head of an Athenian troop, and put to death to a man. 

The confident hope of victory with which Xerxes saw the battle beginchanged to wrath and terror when he saw his ships in disorderly flightand the Greeks in hot pursuit. The gallant behavior of Queen Artemisiaalone gave him satisfaction, and when he saw her in the flight run intoand sink an opposing vessel, he cried out, "My men have become women;and my women, men. " He was not aware that the ship she had sunk, withall on board, was one of his own fleet. 

The mad flight of his ships utterly distracted the mind of thefaint-hearted king. His army still vastly outnumbered that of Greece. With all its losses, his fleet was still much the stronger. An ounce ofcourage in his soul would have left Greece at his mercy. But that waswanting, and in panic fear that the Greeks would destroy the bridge overthe Hellespont, he ordered his fleet to hasten there to guard it, andput his army in rapid retreat for the safe Asiatic shores. 

He had some reason to fear the loss of his bridge. Themistocles and theAthenians had it in view to hasten to the Hellespont and break it down. But Eurybiades, the Spartan leader, opposed this, saying that it wasdangerous to keep Xerxes in Greece. They had best give him every chanceto fly. 

Themistocles, who saw the wisdom of this advice, not only accepted it, but sent a message to Xerxes--as to a friend--advising him to make allhaste, and saying that he would do his best to hold back the Greeks, whowere eager to burn the bridge. 

The frightened monarch was not slow in taking this advice. Leaving astrong force in Greece, under the command of his general Mardonius, hemarched with the speed of fear for the bridge. But he had nearlyexhausted the country of food in his advance, and starvation and plagueattended his retreat, many of the men being obliged to eat leaves, grass, and the bark of trees, and great numbers of them dying before theHellespont was reached. 

Here he found the bridge gone. A storm had destroyed it. He was forcedto have his army taken across in ships. Not till Asia Minor was reacheddid the starving troops obtain sufficient food, --and there gorgedthemselves to such an extent that many of them died from repletion. Inthe end Xerxes entered Sardis with a broken army and a sad heart, eightmonths after he had left it with the proud expectation of conquering thewestern world. 

_PLATÆA'S FAMOUS DAY. _

On a certain day, destined to be thereafter famous, two strong armiesfaced each other on the plain north of the little Boeotian town ofPlatæa. Greece had gathered the greatest army it had ever yet put intothe field, in all numbering one hundred and ten thousand men, of whomnearly forty thousand were hoplites, or heavy-armed troops, theremainder light-armed or unarmed. Of these Sparta supplied five thousandhoplites and thirty-five thousand light-armed Helots, the greatest armythat warlike city had ever brought into action. The remainder of Laconiafurnished five thousand hoplites and five thousand Helot attendants. Athens sent eight thousand hoplites, and the remainder of the army camefrom various states of Greece. This host was in strange contrast to thefew thousand warriors with whom Greece had met the vast array of Xerxesat Thermopylæ. 

Opposed to this force was the army which Xerxes had left behind him onhis flight from Greece, three hundred thousand of his choicest troops, under the command of his trusted general Mardonius. This host was not amob of armed men, like that which Xerxes had led. It embraced the bestof the Persian forces and Greek auxiliaries, and the hopes of Greecestill seemed but slight, thus outnumbered three to one. But the Greeksfought for liberty, and were inspired with the spirit of their recentvictories; the Persians were disheartened and disunited: this differenceof feeling went far to equalize the hosts. 

And now, before bringing the waiting armies to battle, we must tell whatled to their meeting on the Platæan plain. After the battle of Salamis avote was taken by the chiefs to decide who among them should be awardedthe prize of valor on that glorious day. Each cast two ballots, and whenthese were counted each chief was found to have cast his first votefor--himself! But the second votes were nearly all for Themistocles, andall Greece hailed him as its preserver. The Spartans crowned him witholive, and presented him with a kingly chariot, and when he left theircity they escorted him with the honors due to royalty. 

Meanwhile Mardonius, who was wintering with his army in Thessaly, sentto Athens to ask if its people still proposed the madness of opposingthe power of Xerxes the king. "Yes, " was the answer; "while the sunlights the sky we will never join in alliance with barbarians againstGreeks. "

On receiving this answer Mardonius broke up his winter camp and marchedagain to Athens, which he found once more empty of inhabitants. Itspeople had withdrawn as before to Salamis, and left the shell of theirnation to the foe. 

The Athenians sent for aid to Sparta, but the people of that city, learning that Athens had defied Mardonius, selfishly withheld theirassistance, and the completion of the wall across the isthmus wasdiligently pushed. Fortunately for Greece, this selfish policy came to asudden end. "What will your wall be worth if Athens joins with Persiaand gives the foe the aid of her fleet?" was asked the Spartan kings;and so abruptly did they change their opinion that during that samenight five thousand Spartan hoplites, each man with seven Helotattendants, marched for the isthmus, with Pausanias, a cousin ofLeonidas, the hero of Thermopylæ, at their head. 

On learning of this movement, Mardonius set fire to what of Athensremained, and fell back on the city of Thebes, in Boeotia, as a morefavorable field for the battle which now seemed sure to come. Here hisnumerous cavalry could be brought into play, the country was allied withhim, the friendly city of Thebes lay behind him, and food for his greatarmy was to be had. Here, then, he awaited the coming of the Greeks, andbuilt for his army a fortified camp, surrounded with walls and towers ofwood. 

Yet his men and officers alike lacked heart. At a splendid banquet givento Mardonius by the Thebans, one of the Persians said to his Thebanneighbor, --

"Seest thou these Persians here feasting, and the army which we leftyonder encamped near the river? Yet a little while, and out of all thesethou shalt behold but a few surviving. "

"If you feel thus, " said the Theban, "thou art surely bound to reveal itto Mardonius. "

"My friend, " answered the Persian, "man cannot avert what God hasdecreed. No one will believe the revelation, sure though it be. Many ofus Persians know this well, and are here serving only under the bond ofnecessity. And truly this is the most hateful of all human sufferings, to be full of knowledge, and at the same time to have no power over anyresult. "

Not long had the lukewarm Persians to wait for their foes. Soon the armyof Greece appeared, and, seeing their enemy encamped along the littleriver Asopus in the plain, took post on the mountain declivity above. Here they were not suffered to rest in peace. The powerful Persiancavalry, led by Masistius, the most distinguished officer in the army, broke like a thunderbolt on the Grecian ranks. The Athenians andMegarians met them, and a sharp and doubtful contest ensued. At lengthMasistius fell from his wounded horse and was slain as he lay on theground. The Persians fought with fury to recover his body, but werefinally driven back, leaving the corpse of their general in the hands ofthe Greeks. 

This event had a great effect on both armies. Grief assailed the army ofMardonius at the loss of their favorite general. Loud wailings filledthe camp, and the hair of men, horses, and cattle was cut in sign ofmourning. The Greeks, on the contrary, were full of joy. The body ofMasistius, a man of great stature, and clad in showy armor, was placedin a cart and paraded around the camp, that all might see it andrejoice. Such was their confidence at this defeat of the cavalry, whichthey had sorely feared, that Pausanias broke up his hill camp andmarched into the plain below, where he took station in front of thePersian host, only the little stream of the Asopus dividing the twohostile armies. 

And here for days they lay, both sides offering sacrifices, and bothobtaining the same oracle, --that the side which attacked would lose thebattle, the side which resisted would win. Under such circumstancesneither side cared to attack, and for ten days the armies lay, theGreeks much annoyed by the Persian cavalry, and having their convoys ofprovisions cut off, yet still waiting with unyielding faith in thedecision of the gods. 

Mardonius at length grew impatient. He asked his officers if they knewof any prophecy saying that the Persians would be destroyed in Greece. They were all silent, though many of them knew of such prophecies. 

"Since you either do not know or will not tell, " he at length said, "Iwell know of one. There is an oracle which declares that Persianinvaders shall plunder the temple of Delphi, and shall afterwards all bedestroyed. Now we shall not go against that temple, so on that ground weshall not be destroyed. Doubt not, then, but rejoice, for we shall getthe better of the Greeks. " And he gave orders to prepare for battle onthe morrow, without waiting longer on the sacrifices. 

That night Alexander of Macedon, who was in the Persian army, rode up tothe Greek outposts and gave warning of the coming attack. "I am of Greekdescent, " he said, "and ask you to free me from the Persian yoke. Icannot endure to see Greece enslaved. "

During the night Pausanias withdrew his army to a new position in frontof the town of Platæa, water being wanting where they were. One Spartanleader, indeed, refused to move, and when told that there had been ageneral vote of the officers, he picked up a huge stone and cast it atthe feet of Pausanias, crying, "This is _my_ pebble. With it I give myvote not to run away from the strangers. "

Dawn was at hand, and the Spartans still held their ground, their leaderdisputing in vain with the obstinate captain. At length he gave theorder to march, it being fatal to stay, since the rest of the army hadgone. Amompharetus, the obstinate captain, seeing that his general hadreally gone, now lost his scruples and followed. 

When day dawned the Persians saw with surprise that their foes haddisappeared. The Spartans alone, detained by the obstinacy ofAmompharetus, were still in sight. Filled with extravagant confidence atthis seeming flight. Mardonius gave orders for hasty pursuit, crying toa Greek ally, "There go your boasted Spartans, showing, by a barefacedflight, what they are really worth. "

Crossing the shallow stream, the Persians ran after the Greeks at fullspeed, without a thought of order or discipline. The foe seemed to themin full retreat, and shouts of victory rang from their lips as theyrushed pell-mell across the plain. 

The Spartans were quickly overtaken, and found themselves hotlyassailed. They sent in haste to the Athenians for aid. The Atheniansrushed forward, but soon found themselves confronted by the Greek alliesof Persia, and with enough to do to defend themselves. The remainder ofthe Greek army had retreated to Platæa and took no part in the battle. 

The Persians, thrusting the spiked extremities of their long shields inthe ground, formed a breastwork from which they poured showers of arrowson the Spartan ranks, by which many were wounded or slain. Yet, despitetheir distress, Pausanias would not give the order to charge. He was atthe old work again, offering sacrifices while his men fell around him. The responses were unfavorable, and he would not fight. 

At length the victims showed favorable signs. "Charge!" was the word. With the fury of unchained lions the impatient hoplites sprang forward, and like an avalanche the serried Spartan line fell on the foe. 

Down went the breastwork of shields. Down went hundreds of Persiansbefore the close array and the long spears of the Spartans. Broken anddisordered, the Persians fought bravely, doing their utmost to get toclose quarters with their foes. Mardonius, mounted on a white horse, andattended by a body-guard of a thousand select troops, was among theforemost warriors, and his followers distinguished themselves by theircourage. 

At length the spear of Aeimnestus, a distinguished Spartan, broughtMardonius dead to the ground. His guards fell in multitudes around hisbody. The other Persians, worn out with the hopeless effort to breakthe Spartan phalanx, and losing heart at the death of their general, turned and fled to their fortified camp. At the same time the Thebanallies of Persia, whom the Athenians had been fighting, gave ground, andbegan a retreat, which was not ended till they reached the walls ofThebes. 

On rushed the victorious Spartans to the Persian camp, which they atonce assailed. Here they had no success till the Athenians came to theiraid, when the walls were stormed and the defenders slain in such hoststhat, if we can believe Herodotus, only three thousand out of the threehundred thousand of the army of Mardonius remained alive. It is truethat one body of forty thousand men, under Artabazus, had been too lateon the field to take part in the fight. The Persians were alreadydefeated when these troops came in sight, and they turned and marchedaway for the Hellespont, leaving the defeated host to shift for itself. Of the Greeks, Plutarch tells us that the total loss in the battle wasthirteen hundred and sixty men. 

The spoil found in the Persian camp was rich and varied. It includedmoney and ornaments of gold and silver, carpets, splendid arms andclothing, horses, camels, and other valuable materials. This was dividedamong the victors, a tenth of the golden spoil being reserved for theDelphian shrine, and wrought into a golden tripod, which was placed on acolumn formed of three twisted bronze serpents. This defeat was thesalvation of Greece. No Persian army ever again set foot on Europeansoil. And, by a striking coincidence, on the same day that the battleof Platæa was fought, the Grecian fleet won a brilliant victory atMycale, in Asia Minor, and freed the Ionian cities from Persian rule. InGreece, Thebes was punished for aiding the Persians. Byzantium (nowConstantinople) was captured by Pausanias, and the great cables of thebridge of Xerxes were brought home in triumph by the Greeks. 

We have but one more incident to tell. The war tent of Xerxes had beenleft to Mardonius, and on taking the Persian camp Pausanias saw it withits colored hangings and its gold and silver adornments, and gave ordersto the cooks that they should prepare him such a feast as they were usedto do for their lord. On seeing the splendid banquet, he ordered that aSpartan supper should be prepared. With a hearty laugh at the contrasthe said to the Greek leaders, for whom he had sent, "Behold, O Greeks, the folly of this Median captain, who, when he enjoyed such fare asthis, must needs come here to rob us of our penury. "

_FOUR FAMOUS MEN OF ATHENS. _

In the days of Croesus, the wealthiest of ancient kings, a citizen ofAthens, Alkmæon by name, kindly lent his aid to the messengers sent bythe Lydian monarch to consult the Delphian oracle, before his war withKing Cyrus of Persia, This generous aid was richly rewarded byCroesus, who sent for Alkmæon to visit him at Sardis, richlyentertained him, and when ready to depart made him a present of as muchgold as he could carry from the treasury. 

This offer the visitor, who seemed to possess his fair share of theperennial thirst for gold, determined to make the most of. He went tothe treasure-chamber dressed in his loosest tunic and wearing on hisfeet wide-legged buskins, both of which he filled bursting full withgold. Not yet satisfied, he powdered his hair thickly with gold-dust, and filled his mouth with this precious but indigestible food. Thusladen, he waddled as well as he could from the chamber, presenting soludicrous a spectacle that the good-natured monarch burst into a loudlaugh on seeing him. 

Croesus not only let him keep all he had taken, but doubled its valueby other presents, so that Alkmæon returned to Athens as one of itswealthiest men. Megacles, the son of this rich Athenian, was he who wonthe prize of fair Agaristé of Sicyon, in the contest which we haveelsewhere described. The son of Megacles and Agaristé was namedCleisthenes, and it is he who comes first in the list of famous men whomwe have here to describe. 

It was Cleisthenes who made Attica a democratic state; and thus it cameabout. The laws of Solon--which favored the aristocracy--were set asideby despots before Solon died. After Hippias, the last of those despots, was expelled from the state, the people rose under the leadership ofCleisthenes, and, probably for the first time in the history of mankind, a government "of the people, for the people, and by the people" wasestablished in a civilized state. The laws of Solon were abrogated, anda new code of laws formed by Cleisthenes, which lasted till theindependence of Athens came to an end. 

Before that time the clan system had prevailed in Greece. The peoplewere divided into family groups, each of which claimed to be descendedfrom a single ancestor, --often a supposed deity. These clans held allthe power of the state; not only in the early days, when they formed thewhole people, but later, when Athens became a prosperous city with manymerchant ships, and when numerous strangers had come from afar to settlewithin its walls. 

None of these strangers were given the rights of citizenship. The clansremained in power, and the new people had no voice in the government. But in time the strangers grew to be so numerous, rich, and importantthat their claim to equal rights could no longer be set aside. They tookpart in the revolution by which the despots were expelled, and in thenew constitution that was formed their demand to be made citizens of thestate had to be granted. 

Cleisthenes, the leader of the people against the aristocratic faction, made this new code of laws. By a system never before adopted he broke upthe old conditions. Before that time the people were the basis on whichgovernments were organized. He made the land the basis, and from thattime to this land has continued the basis of political divisions. 

Setting aside the old division of the Attic people into tribes andclans, founded on birth or descent, he separated the people into ten newtribes, founded on land. Attica was divided by him into districts orparishes, like modern townships and wards, which were called Demes, andeach tribe was made up of several demes at a distance from each other. Every man became a citizen of the deme in which he lived, without regardto his clan, the new people were made citizens, and thus every freeborninhabitant of Attica gained full rights of suffrage and citizenship, andthe old clan aristocracy was at an end. The clans kept up their ancientorganization and religious ceremonies, but they lost their politicalcontrol. It must be said here, however, that many of the people ofAttica were slaves, and that the new commonwealth of freemen was veryfar from including the whole population. 

One of the most curious of the new laws made by Cleisthenes was thatknown as "ostracism, " by which any citizen who showed himself dangerousto the state could be banished for ten years if six thousand votes werecast against him. This was intended as a means of preventing the rise offuture despots. 

The people of Athens developed wonderfully in public spirit under theirnew constitution. Each of them had now become the equal politically ofthe richest and noblest in the state, and all took a more vital interestin their country than had ever been felt before. It was this that madethem so earnest and patriotic in the Persian war. The poorest citizenfought as bravely as the richest for the freedom of his beloved state. 

Each tribe, under the new laws, chose its own war-leader, or general, sothat there were ten generals of equal power, and in war each of thesewas given command of the army for a day; and one of the archons, orcivil heads of the state, was made general of the state, or war archon, so that there were eleven generals in all. 

The leading man in each tribe was usually chosen its general, and ofthese we have the stories of three to tell, --Miltiades, the hero ofMarathon; Themistocles, who saved Greece at Salamis; and Aristides, known as "the Just. "

We have already told how two of these men gained great glory. We havenow to tell how they gained great disgrace. Ambition, the bane of theleaders of states, led them both to ruin. 

Miltiades was of noble birth, and succeeded his uncle as ruler of theChersonese country, in Thrace. Here he fell under the dominion ofPersia, and here, when Darius was in Scythia, he advised that the bridgeover the Danube should be destroyed. When Darius returned Miltiades hadto fly for his life. He afterwards took part in the Ionic revolt, andcaptured from the Persians the islands of Lemnos and Imbros. But whenthe Ionians were once more conquered Miltiades had again to fly for hislife. Darius hated him bitterly, and had given special orders for hiscapture. He fled with five ships, and was pursued so closely that one ofthem was taken. He reached Athens in safety with the rest. 

Not long afterwards Miltiades revenged himself on Darius for thispursuit by his great victory at Marathon, which for the time made himthe idol of the state and the most admired man in all Greece. 

But the glory of Miltiades was quickly followed by disgrace, and the endof his career was near at hand. He was of the true soldierlytemperament, stirring, ambitious, not content to rest and rust, and as aresult his credit with the fickle Athenians quickly disappeared. Hishead seems to have been turned by his success, and he soon after askedfor a fleet of seventy ships of war, to be placed under his command. Hedid not say where he proposed to go, but stated only that whoever shouldcome with him would be rewarded plentifully with gold. 

The victor at Marathon had but to ask to obtain. The people putboundless confidence in him, and gave him the fleet without a question. And the golden prize promised brought him numbers of eager volunteers, not one of whom knew where he was going or what he was expected to do. Miltiades was in command, and where Miltiades chose to lead who couldhesitate to follow?

The purpose of the admiral of the fleet was soon revealed. He sailed tothe island of Paros, besieged the capital, and demanded a tribute of onehundred talents. He based this claim on the pretence that the Parianshad furnished a ship to the Persian fleet, but it is known that his realmotive was hatred of a citizen of Paros. 

As it happened, the Parians were not the sort of people to submit easilyto a piratical demand. They kept their foe amused by cunning diplomacytill they had repaired the city walls, then openly defied him to do hisworst. Miltiades at once began the assault, and kept it up fortwenty-six days in vain. The island was ravaged, but the town stoodintact. Despairing of winning by force, he next attempted to win byfraud. A woman of Paros promised to reveal to him a secret which wouldplace the town in his power, and induced him to visit her at night in atemple to which only women were admitted. Miltiades accepted the offer, leaped over the outer fence, and approached the temple. But at thatmoment a panic of superstitious fear overcame him. Doubtless fancyingthat the deity of the temple would punish him terribly for thisdesecration, he ran away in the wildest terror, and sprang back over thefence in such haste that he badly sprained his thigh. In this state hewas found and carried on board ship, and, the siege being raised, thefleet returned to Athens. 

Here Miltiades found the late favor of the citizens changed to violentindignation, in which his recent followers took part. He was accused ofdeceiving the people, and of committing a crime against the state worthyof death. The dangerous condition of his wound prevented him from sayinga word in his own defence. In truth, there was no defence to make; theutmost his friends could do was to recall his service at Marathon. NoAthenian tribunal could adjudge to death, however great the offence, theconqueror of Lemnos and victor at Marathon. But neither couldforgiveness be adjudged, and Miltiades was fined fifty talents, perhapsto repay the city the expense of fitting out the fleet. 

This fine he did not live to pay. His wounded thigh mortified and hedied, leaving his son Cimon to pay the penalty incurred through hisambition and personal grudge. Some writers say that he was put in prisonand died there, but this is not probable, considering his disabledstate. 

Miltiades had belonged to the old order of things, being a bornaristocrat, and for a time a despot. Themistocles and Aristides werechildren of the new state, democrats born, and reared to the new orderof things. They were not the equals of Miltiades in birth, both beingborn of parents of no distinction. But, aside from this similarity, theydiffered essentially, alike in character and in their life records;Themistocles being aspiring and ambitious, Aristides, his politicalopponent, quiet and patriotic; the one considering most largely his ownadvancement, the other devoting his whole life to the good of his nativecity. 

Themistocles displayed his nature strongly while still a boy. Idlenessand play were not to his taste, and no occasion was lost by him toimprove his mind and develop his powers in oratory. He cared nothing foraccomplishments, but gave ardent attention to the philosophy andlearning of his day. "It is true I cannot play on a flute, or bringmusic from the lute, " he afterwards said; "all I can do is, if a smalland obscure city were put into my hands, to make it great and glorious. "

[Illustration: THE ANCIENT ENTRANCE TO THE STADIUM, ATHENS. ]

Of commanding figure, handsome face, keen eyes, proud and erect posture, sprightly and intellectual aspect, he was one to attract attention inany community, while his developed powers of oratory gave him thegreatest influence over the speech-loving Athenians. In his eagerness towin distinction and gain a high place in the state, he cared not whatenemies he might make so that he won a strong party to his support. Sogreat was his thirst for distinction that the victory of Miltiades atMarathon threw him into a state of great depression, in which he said, "The glory of Miltiades will not let me sleep. "

Themistocles was not alone ambitious and declamatory. He was far-sightedas well; and through his power of foreseeing the future he was enabledto serve Athens even more signally than Miltiades had done. Many therewere who said that there was no need to dread the Persians further, thatthe victory at Marathon would end the war. "It is only the beginning ofthe war, " said Themistocles; "new and greater conflicts will come; ifAthens is to be saved, it must prepare. "

We have elsewhere told how he induced the Athenians to build a fleet, and how this fleet, under his shrewd management, defeated the greatflotilla of Xerxes and saved Greece from ruin and subjection. All thatThemistocles did before and during this war it is not necessary tostate. It will suffice here to say that he had no longer occasion tolose sleep on account of the glory of Miltiades. He had won a higherglory of his own; and in the end ambition ruined him, as it had hisgreat predecessor. 

To complete the tale of Themistocles we must take up that of another ofthe heroes of Greece, the Spartan Pausanias, the leader of thevictorious army at Platæa. He, too, allowed ambition to destroy him. After taking the city of Byzantium, he fell in love with Oriental luxuryand grew to despise the humble fare and rigid discipline of Sparta. Heoffered to bring all Greece under the domain of Persia if Xerxes wouldgive him his daughter for wife, and displayed such pompous folly andextravagance that the Spartans ordered him home, where he was tried fortreason, but not condemned. 

He afterwards conspired with some of the states of Asia Minor, and whenagain brought home formed a plot with the Helots to overthrow thegovernment. His treason was discovered, and he fled to a temple forsafety, where he was kept till he starved to death. 

Thus ambition ended the careers of two of the heroes of the Persian war. A third, Themistocles, ended his career in similar disgrace. In fact, he grew so arrogant and unjust that the people of Athens found himunfit to live with. They suspected him also of joining with Pausanias inhis schemes. So they banished him by ostracism, and he went to Argos tolive. While there it was proved that he really had taken part in thetreason of Pausanias, and he was obliged to fly for his life. 

The fugitive had many adventures in this flight. He was pursued byenvoys from Athens, and made more than one narrow escape. While onshipboard he was driven by storm to the island of Naxos, then besiegedby an Athenian fleet, and escaped only by promising a large reward tothe captain if he would not land. Finally, after other adventures, hereached Susa, the capital of Persia, where he found that Xerxes wasdead, and his son Artaxerxes was reigning in his stead. 

He was well received by the new king, to whom he declared that he hadbeen friendly to his father Xerxes, and that he proposed now to use hispowers for the good of Persia. He formed schemes by which Persia mightconquer Greece, and gained such favor with the new monarch that he gavehim a Persian wife and rich presents, sent him to Magnesia, near theIonian coast, and granted him the revenues of the surrounding district. Here Themistocles died, at the age of sixty-five, without having keptone of his alluring promises to the Persian king. 

And thus, through greed and ambition, the three great leaders of Greecein the Persian war ended their careers in disgrace and death. We havenow the story of a fourth great Athenian to tell, who through honor andvirtue won a higher distinction than the others had gained throughwarlike fame. 

Throughout the whole career of the brilliant Themistocles he had apersistent opponent, Aristides, a man, like him, born of undistinguishedparents, but who by moral strength and innate power of intellect won theesteem and admiration of his fellow-citizens. He became the leader ofthe aristocratic section of the people, as Themistocles did of thedemocratic, and for years the city was divided between their adherents. But the brilliancy of Themistocles was replaced in Aristides by a staidand quiet disposition. He was natively austere, taciturn, anddeep-revolving, winning influence by silent methods, and retaining it bythe strictest honor and justice and a hatred of all forms of falsehoodor political deceit. 

For years these two men divided the political power of Athens betweenthem, until in the end Aristides said that the city would have no peaceuntil it threw the pair of them into the pit kept for condemnedcriminals. So just was Aristides that, on one of his enemies beingcondemned by the court without a hearing, he rose in his seat and beggedthe court not to impose sentence without giving the accused anopportunity for defence. 

Aristides was one of the generals at Marathon, and was left to guard thespoils on the field of battle after the defeat of the Persians. At alater date, by dint of false reports, Themistocles succeeded in havinghim ostracized, obtaining the votes of the rabble against him. One ofthese, not knowing Aristides, asked him to write his own name on thetile used as a voting tablet. He did so, but first inquired, "HasAristides done you an injury?" "No, " was the answer; "I do not even knowhim, but I am tired of hearing him always called 'Aristides the Just. '"On leaving the city Aristides prayed that the people should never haveany occasion to regret their action. 

This occasion quickly came. In less than three years he was recalled toaid his country in the Persian invasion. Landing at Salamis, he servedAthens in the manner we have already told. The command of the army whichAristides surrendered to Miltiades at the battle of Marathon fell tohimself in the battle of Platæa, for on that great day he led theAthenians and played an important part in the victory that followed. Hecommanded the Athenian forces in a later war, and by his prudence andmildness won for Athens the supremacy in the Greek confederation thatwas afterwards formed. 

At a later date, leader of the aristocrats as he was, to avert arevolution he proposed a change in the constitution that made Athenscompletely democratic, and enabled the lowliest citizen to rise to thehighest office of the state. In 468 B. C. Died this great and noblecitizen of Athens, one of the most illustrious of ancient statesmen andpatriots, and one of the most virtuous public men of any age or nation. He died so poor that it is said he did not leave enough money to pay hisfuneral expenses, and for several generations his descendants were keptat the charge of the state. 

_HOW ATHENS ROSE FROM ITS ASHES. _

The torch of Xerxes and Mardonius left Athens a heap of ashes. But, likethe new birth of the fabled phoenix, there rose out of these ashes acity that became the wonder of the world, and whose time-worn ruins arestill worshipped by the pilgrims of art. We cannot proceed with our workwithout pausing awhile to contemplate this remarkable spectacle. 

The old Athens bore to the new much the same relation that the chrysalisbears to the butterfly. It was little more than an ordinary countrytown, the capital of a district comparable in size to a modern county. Pisistratus and his sons had built some temples, and had completed apart of the Dionysiac theatre, but the city itself was simply a clusterof villages surrounded by a wall; while the citadel had for defencenothing stronger than a wooden rampart. The giving of this city to thetorch was no serious loss; in reality it was a gain, since it clearedthe ground for the far nobler city of later days. 

It is not often that a whole nation removes from its home, and itspossessions are completely swept away. But such had been the case withthe Attic state. For a time all Attica was afloat, the people of cityand country alike taking to their ships; while a locust flight ofPersians passed over their lands, ravaging and destroying all beforethem, and leaving nothing but the bare soil. Such was what remained tothe people of Attica on their return from Salamis and the adjacentisles. 

Athens lay before them a heap of ashes and ruin, its walls flung down, its dwellings vanished, its gardens destroyed, its temples burned. Thecity itself, and the citadel and sacred structures of its Acropolis, were swept away, and the business of life on that ravaged soil had to bebegun afresh. 

Yet Attica as a state was greater than ever before. It was a victor onland and sea, the recognized savior of Greece; and the people of Athensreturned to the ashes of their city not in woe and dismay, but in prideand exultation. They were victors over the greatest empire then on theface of the earth, the admired of the nations, the leading power inGreece, and their small loss weighed but lightly against their greatglory. 

The Athens that rose in place of the old city was a marvel of beauty andart, adorned with hall and temple, court and gymnasium, colonnade andtheatre, while under the active labors of its sculptors it became sofilled with marble inmates that they almost equalled in numbers itsliving inhabitants. Such sculptors as Phidias and such painters asZeuxis adorned the city with the noblest products of their art. Thegreat theatre of Dionysus was completed, and to it was added a new one, called the Odeon, for musical and poetical representations. On theAcropolis rose the Parthenon, the splendid temple to Minerva, orAthené, the patron goddess of the city, whose ruins are still thegreatest marvel of architectural art. Other temples adorned theAcropolis, and the costly Propylæa, or portals, through which passed thesolemn processions on festival days, were erected at the western side ofthe hill. The Acropolis was further adorned with three splendid statuesof Minerva, all the work of Phidias, one of ivory in the Parthenon, forty-seven feet high, the others of bronze, one being of such colossalheight that it could be seen from afar by mariners at sea. 

The city itself was built upon a scale to correspond with this richnessof architectural and artistic adornment, and such was its encouragementto the development of thought and art, that poets, artists, andphilosophers flocked thither from all quarters, and for many yearsAthens stood before the world as the focal point of the human intellect. 

Not the least remarkable feature in this great growth was the celeritywith which it was achieved. The period between the Persian and thePeloponnesian war was only sixty years in duration. Yet in that briefspace of time the great growth we have chronicled took place, and thearchitectural splendor of the city was consummated. The devastation ofthe unhappy Peloponnesian war put an end to this external growth, andleft the Athens of old frozen into marble, a thing of beauty forever. But the intellectual growth went on, and for centuries afterwards Athenscontinued the centre of ancient thought. 

And now the question in point is how all this came about, and what madeAthens great and glorious among the cities of Greece. It all flowednaturally from her eminence in the Persian war. During that war therehad been a league of the states of Greece, with Sparta as its acceptedleader. After the war the need of being on the alert against Persiacontinued, and Greece became in great part divided into twoleagues, --one composed of Sparta and most of the Peloponnesian states, the other of Athens, the islands of the archipelago, and many of thetowns of Asia Minor and Thrace. This latter was called the League ofDelos, since its deputies met and its treasure was kept in the temple ofApollo on that island. 

This League of Delos developed in time to what has been called theAthenian Empire, and in this manner. Each city of the league pledgeditself to make an annual contribution of a certain number of ships or afixed sum of money, to be used in war against Persia or for the defenceof members of the league. The amount assessed against each was fixed byAristides, in whose justice every one trusted. In time the money paymentwas considered preferable to that of ships, and most of the states ofthe league contributed money, leaving Athens to provide the fleet. 

In this way all the power fell into the hands of Athens, and the othercities of the league became virtually payers of tribute. This was shownlater on when some of the island cities declined to pay. Athens sent afleet, made conquest of the islands, and reduced them to the state ofreal tribute payers. Thus the league began to change into an Atheniandominion. 

In 459 B. C. The treasure was removed from Delos to Athens. And in theend Chios, Samoa, and Lesbos were the only free allies of Athens. Allthe other members of the league had been reduced to subjection. Severalof the states of Greece also became subject to Athens, and the AthenianEmpire grew into a wealthy, powerful, and extended state. 

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

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

It was this money that made Athens great. It proved to be more than wasnecessary for defensive war against Persia, or even for the aggressivewar which was carried on in Asia Minor and Egypt. It also more thansufficed for sending out the colonies which Athens founded in Italy andelsewhere. The remainder of the fund was used in Athens, part of it inbuilding great structures and in producing splendid works of art, partfor purposes of fortification. The Piræus, the port of Athens, wassurrounded by strong walls, and a double wall--the famous "LongWalls"--was constructed from the city to the port, a distance of fourmiles. These walls, some two hundred yards apart, left a grand highwaybetween, the channel of a steady traffic which flowed from the sea tothe city, and which for years enabled Athens to defy the cutting off itsresources by attack from without. Through this broad avenue not onlyprovisions and merchandise, but men in multitudes, made their way intoAthens, until that city became fuller of bustle, energy, political andscholarly activity, and incessant industry than any of the other citiesof the ancient world. 

In a city like this, free and equal as were its citizens, and democraticas were its institutions, some men were sure to rise to the surface andgain controlling influence. In the period in question there were twosuch men, Cimon and Pericles, men of such eminence that we cannot passthem by unconsidered. Cimon was the son of Miltiades, the hero ofMarathon, and became the leader of aristocratic Athens. Pericles was thegreat-grandson of Cleisthenes, the democratic law-giver, and, though ofthe most aristocratic descent, became the leader of the popular party ofhis native city. 

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

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

Pericles was too wise and shrewd to keep himself constantly before thepeople, or to haunt the assembly. He sedulously remained in thebackground until he had something of importance to say, but he thendelivered his message with a skill, force, and animation that carriedall his hearers irresistibly away. His logic, wit, and sarcasm, hisclear voice, flashing eyes, and vigorous power of declamation, used onlywhen the occasion was important, gave him in time almost absolutecontrol in Athens, and had he sought to make himself a despot he mighthave done so with a word; but happily he was honest and patriotic enoughto content himself with being the First Citizen of the State. 

To make the people happy, and to keep Athens in a condition of serenecontent, seem to have been leading aims with Pericles. He entertainedthem with quickly succeeding theatrical and other entertainments, solemnbanquets, splendid shows and processions, and everything likely to addto their enjoyment. Every year he sent out eighty galleys on a sixmonths' cruise, filled with citizens who were to learn the art ofmaritime war, and who were paid for their services. The citizens werelikewise paid for attending the public assembly, and allowances weremade them for the time given to theatrical representations, so that ithas been said that Pericles converted the sober and thrifty Atheniansinto an idle, pleasure-loving, and extravagant populace. At the sametime, that things might be kept quiet in Athens, the discontentedoverflow of the people were sent out as colonists, to build up daughtercities of Attica in many distant lands. 

Thus it was that Athens developed from the quiet country town of the oldrégime into the wealthiest, gayest, and most progressive of Greciancities, the capital of an empire, the centre of a great commerce, andthe home of a busy and thronging populace, among whom the ablestartists, poets, and philosophers of that age of the world were included. Here gathered the great writers of tragedy, beginning with Æschylus, whose noble works were performed at the expense of the state in thegreat open-air theatre of Dionysus. Here the comedians, the chief ofwhom was Aristophanes, moved hosts of spectators to inextinguishablelaughter. Here the choicest lyric poets of Greece awoke admiration withtheir unequalled songs, at their head the noble Pindar, the laureate ofthe Olympic and Pythian games. Here the sophists and philosophers arguedand lectured, and Socrates walked like a king at the head of thearistocracy of thought. Here the sculptors, headed by Phidias, filledtemples, porticos, colonnades, and public places with the most exquisitecreations in marble, and the painters with their marvellousreproductions of nature. Here, indeed, seemed gathered all that was bestand worthiest in art, entertainment, and thought, and for half a centuryand more Athens remained a city without a rival in the history of theworld. 

_THE PLAGUE AT ATHENS. _

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

It became apparent as the years went on that a struggle was coming forsupremacy in Greece. Outbreaks of active hostility between the rivalpowers from time to time took place. At length the situation grew sostrained that a general conflict began, that devastating Peloponnesianwar which for nearly thirty years desolated Greece, and which ended inthe ruin of Athens, the home of poetry and art, and the supremacy ofSparta, the native school of war. The first great conflict of theHellenic people, the Persian war, had made Greece powerful andglorious. The second great conflict, the Peloponnesian war, broughtGreece to the verge of ruin, and destroyed that Athenian supremacy inwhich lay the true path of progress for that fair land. 

In 431 B. C. The war broke out. Sparta and her allies declared waragainst Athens on the ground that that city was growing too great andgrasping, and an army marched from the Peloponnesus northward to invadethe Attic state. Meanwhile the Athenians, under the shrewd advice ofPericles, adopted a wise policy. It was with her fleet that Athens haddefeated Persia, and her wise statesman advised that she should devoteherself to the dominion of the sea, and leave to Sparta that of theland. Their walls would protect her people, their ships would bring themfood from afar, they were not a fair match for Sparta on land, and couldsafely leave to that city of warriors the temporary dominion of Atticsoil. 

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

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

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

Athens felt secure, and laughed her enemy to scorn. Unhappily for her, anew enemy was at hand, against whom the mightiest walls were of noavail. Sparta gained an unthought-of ally, and death stalked at large inthe Athenian streets, silent and implacable, without clash of weapon orshout of war, yet more fatal and merciless than would have been thestrongest army in the field. 

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

The seeds of death found there fertile soil. Families were crowdedtogether in close cabins and temporary shelters, to which they had beendriven in multitudes from their ravaged fields. The plague firstappeared in mid-April in the Piræus, --brought, perhaps, bymerchant-ships, --but soon spread to Athens, and as the heat of summercame on the inhabitants of that thronged city fell victims to it inappalling multitudes. 

The plague, they called it. The disease seems to have been somethinglike the small-pox, though not quite the same. Its victims were seizedsuddenly, suffered the greatest agonies, and most of them died on theseventh or the ninth day. Even when the patients recovered, some hadlost their memory, others the use of their eyes, hands, feet, or someother member of the body. No remedy could be found. The physicians diedas rapidly as their patients. As for the charms and incantations whichmany used, we can scarcely imagine that they saved any lives. Some saidthat their enemies had poisoned the water-cisterns, others that the godswere angry, and vain processions were made to the temples, to implorethe mercy of the deities. 

When nothing availed to stay the pestilence, Athens fell into deepdespondency and despair. The sick lost courage, and lay down inertly toawait death. Those who waited on the sick were themselves strickendown, and so great grew the terror that the patients were deserted andleft to die alone. Fortunately the disease rarely attacked any onetwice, and those who had been sick and recovered became the only nursesof the new victims of the disease. 

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

Nor have we yet told all. Other evils followed that of the plague. Lawwas forgotten, morality ignored. Men hesitated not at crime or theindulgence of evil passions, having no fear of punishment. Many gavethemselves up to riot and luxurious living, with the hope of snatchingan interval of enjoyment before yielding to death. The story we heretell is no new one. It has been realized again and again in the flightof the centuries, when pestilence has made its home in some crowdedcity. Human nature is everywhere the same, and the bonds of law andmorality are loosened when death stalks abroad. 

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

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

_THE ENVOYS OF LIFE AND DEATH. _

Near the coast of Asia Minor lies the beautiful island of Lesbos, thebirthplace of the poets Sappho, Alcæus, and Terpander, and of otherfamous writers and sages of the past. Here were green valleys andverdure-clad mountains, here charming rural scenes and richly-yieldingfields, here all that seems necessary to make life serene and happy. Buthere also dwelt uneasy man, and hither came devastating war, bringingwith it the shadow of a frightful tragedy from which the people ofLesbos barely escaped. 

Lesbos was one of the islands that entered into alliance with Athens, and formed part of the empire that arose from the league of Delos. In428 B. C. This island, and its capital, Mitylene, revolted from Athens, and struck for the freedom they had formerly enjoyed. Mitylene had neverbecome tributary to Athens. It was simply an ally; and it retained itsfleet, its walls, and its government; its only obligations being thosecommon to all members of the League. 

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

The news greatly disturbed the Athenians. They had their hands full ofwar. But Mitylene had asked aid from Sparta, and unless brought undersubjection to Athens it would become an ally of her enemy. No time wastherefore to be lost. A fleet was sent in haste to the revolted city, hoping to take it by surprise. This failing, the city was blockaded bysea and land, and the siege kept up until starvation threatened thepeople within the walls. Until now hope of Spartan aid had beenentertained. But the Spartans came not, the provisions were gone, deathor surrender became inevitable, and the city was given up. About athousand prisoners were sent to Athens, and Mitylene was held till thepleasure of its conquerors should be known. 

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

Slaughter like this would to-day expose its authors to the universalexecration of mankind. In those days it was not uncommon, and thequality of mercy was sadly wanting in the human heart. Yet such crueltywas hardly in accord with the advanced civilization of Athens, and whenthe members of the assembly descended to the streets, and their angersomewhat cooled, it began to appear to them that they had sent forth adecree of frightful cruelty. Even the captain and seamen of the triremethat was sent with the order to Mitylene left the port with heavyhearts, and would have gladly welcomed a recall. But the assembly ofAthens was the ruling power and from its decision there was no appeal. 

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

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

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

Yet they strove against fearful odds. A start of twenty-four hours, uponso brief a journey, was almost fatal. Fortunately, the rowers of thefirst trireme had no spirit for their work. They were as slow anddilatory as the others were eager and persistent. And thus time movedslowly on, and the fate of Mitylene hung desperately in the balance. Anhour more or less in this vital journey would make or mar a frightfulepisode in the history of mankind. 

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

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

_THE DEFENCE OF PLATÆA. _

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

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

Platæa was a small place, probably not very strongly fortified, andcontained a garrison of only four hundred and eighty men, of whom eightywere Athenians. Fortunately, all the women and children had been sent toAthens, the only women remaining in the town being about a hundredslaves, who served as cooks. Around this small place gathered the entirearmy of Sparta and her allies, a force against which it seemed as if thefew defenders could not hold out a week. But these faithful few werebrave and resolute, and for a year and more they defied every effort oftheir foes. 

The story of this siege is of interest as showing how the ancientsassailed a fortified town. Defences which in our times would not stand aday, in those times took months and years to overcome. The army ofSparta, defied by the brave garrison, at first took steps to enclose thetown. If the defenders would not let them in, they would not let thedefenders out. They laid waste the cultivated land, cut down thefruit-trees, and used these to build a strong palisade around the entirecity, with the determination that not a Platæan should escape. Thisdone, they began to erect a great mound of wood, stones, and earthagainst the city wall, forming an inclined plane up which they proposedto rush and take the city by assault. The sides of this mound wereenclosed by cross-beams of wood, so as to hold its materials in place. 

For seventy days and nights the whole army worked busily at this slopingmound, and at the end of this time it had reached nearly the height ofthe wall. But the Platæans had not been idle while their foes were thusat work. They raised the height of their old wall at this point by anadditional wall of wood, backed up by brickwork, which they tore downhouses to obtain. In front of this they suspended hides, so as toprevent fire-bearing arrows from setting the wood on fire. Then theymade a hole through the lower part of the town wall, and through itpulled the earth from the bottom of the mound, so that the top fell in. 

The besiegers now let down quantities of stiff clay rolled up in wattledreeds, which could not be thus pulled away. Yet their mound continued tosink, in spite of the new materials they heaped on top, and they couldnot tell why. In fact, the Platæans had dug an underground passage fromwithin the town, and through this carried away the foundations of themound. And thus for more than two months the besiegers built and thegarrison destroyed their works. 

Not content with this, the Platæans built a new portion of wall withinthe town, joining the old wall on both sides of the mound, so that ifthe besiegers should complete their mound and rush up it in assault, they would find a new wall staring them in the face, and all their laborlost. 

This was not all that was done. Battering engines were used against thewalls to break them down. These the defenders caught by long ropes, pulling the heads of the engines upward or sideways. They also fixedheavy wooden beams in such a manner that when the head of an engine camenear the wall they could drop a beam suddenly upon it, and break off itsprojecting beak. 

In these rude ways the attack and defence went on, until three monthshad passed, and Archidamus and his army found themselves where they hadbegun, and the garrison still safe and defiant. The besiegers next triedto destroy the town by fire. From the top of the mound they hurledfagots as far as they could within the walls. They then threw in pitchand other quick-burning material, and finally set the whole on fire. Ina brief time the flames burst out hotly, and burnt with so fierce aconflagration that the whole town was in imminent danger of destruction. Nothing could have saved it had the wind favored the flames. There is astory also that a thunder-storm came up to extinguish the fire, --butsuch opportune rains seem somewhat too common in ancient history. As itwas, part of the town was destroyed, but the most of it remained, andthe brave inmates continued defiant of their foes. 

Archidamus was almost in despair. Was this small town, with its fewhundred men, to defy and defeat his large army? He had tried the variousancient ways of attack in vain. The Spartans, with all their prowess inthe field, lacked skill in the assault of walled towns, and were rarelysuccessful in the art of siege. The Platæans had proved more than theirmatch, and there only remained to be tried the wearisome and costlyprocess of blockade and famine. 

Determined that Platæa should not escape, this plan was in the endadopted, and a wall built round the entire city, to prevent escape orthe entrance of aid from without. In fact, two walls were built, sixteenfeet apart, and these were covered in on top, so that they looked likeone very thick wall. There were also two ditches, from which the bricksof the wall had been dug, one on the inside, and one without to preventrelief by a foreign force. The covered space within the walls served asquarters for the troops left on guard, its top as a convenient place forsentry duty. This done, the main army marched away. It needed no greathost to keep the few Platæans within their walls until they shouldconsume all their food and yield to famine, a slower but moreirresistible foe than all the Lacedæmonian power. 

Fortunately for the besieged, they were well provisioned, and for morethan a year remained in peace within their city, not attacked by theirfoes and receiving no aid from friends. Besides the eighty Athenianswithin the walls no help came to the Platæans during the long siege. Atlength provisions began to fail. It was evident that they must die likerats in a cage, surrender to their foes, or make a desperate break forfreedom. 

The last expedient was proposed by their general. It was daring, andseemed desperate, to seek to escape over the blockading wall with itsarmed guards. So desperate did it appear that half the garrison fearedto attempt it, deeming that it would end in certain death. The otherhalf, more than two hundred in number, decided that it was better todare death in the field than to meet death in the streets. 

The wall was furnished with frequent battlements and occasional towers, and its whole circuit was kept under watch day and night. But as timewent on the besiegers grew more lax in discipline, and on wet nightssought the shelter of the towers, leaving the spaces between withoutguards. This left a chance for escape which the Platæans determined toembrace. 

By counting the layers of bricks in the blockading wall they were ableto estimate its height, and prepared ladders long enough to reach itstop. Then they waited for a suitable time. At length it came, a cold, dark, stormy December night, with a roaring wind, and showers of rainand sleet. 

The shivering guards cowered within their sheltering towers. Out fromtheir gates marched the Platæans, lightly armed, and, to avoid anysound, with the right foot naked. The left was shod, that it might havefirmer hold on the muddy ground. Moving with the wind in their faces, and so far apart that their arms could not strike and clatter, theyreached and crossed the ditch and lifted their ladders against the wall. Eleven men, armed only with sword and breastplate, mounted first. Othersbearing spears followed, leaving their shields for their comrades belowto carry up and hand to them. This first company was to attack andmaster the two towers right and left. This they did, surprising andslaying the guards without the alarm having spread. Then the othersrapidly mounted the wall. 

At this critical moment one of them struck a loose tile with his footand sent it clattering down the wall. This unlucky accident gave thealarm. In an instant shouts came from the towers, and the garrison belowsprang to arms and hurried to the top of the wall. But they knew notwhere to seek the foe, and their perplexity was increased by thegarrison within the city, which made a false attack on the other side. 

Not knowing what to do or where to go, the blockaders remained at theirposts, except a body of three hundred men, who were kept in readiness topatrol the outside of the outer ditch. Fire-signals were raised to warntheir allies in Thebes, but the garrison in the town also kindledfire-signals so as to destroy the meaning of those of the besiegers. 

Meanwhile the escaping warriors were actively engaged. Some held withspear and javelin the towers they had captured. Others drew up theladders and planted them against the outer wall. Then down the laddersthey hurried, waded across the outer ditch, and reached level groundbeyond. Each man, as he gained this space, stood ready with his weaponsto repel assault from without. When all the others were down, the menwho had held the towers fled to the ladders and safely descended. 

The outer ditch was nearly full of water from the rain and covered withthin ice. Yet they scrambled through it, and when the three hundred ofthe outer guard approached with torches, they suddenly found themselvesassailed with arrows and javelins from a foe invisible in the darkness. They were thus kept back till the last Platæan had crossed the ditch, when the bold fugitives marched speedily away, leaving but one of theirnumber a prisoner in the hands of the foe. 

They first marched towards Thebes, while their pursuers took theopposite direction. Then they turned, struck eastward, entered themountains, and finally--two hundred and twelve in number--made their waysafely to Athens, to tell their families and allies the thrilling storyof their escape. 

A few who lost heart returned from the inner wall to the town, and toldthose within that the whole band had perished. The truth was onlylearned within the town when on the next morning a herald was sent outto solicit a truce for burial of the dead bodies. The herald broughtback the glad tidings that there were no dead to bury, that the wholebold band had escaped. 

Happy had it been for the remaining garrison had they also fled, even atthe risk of death. With the provisions left they held out till the nextsummer, when they were forced to yield. In the end, after the form of atrial, they were all slaughtered by their foes, and the city itself wasrazed to the ground by its Theban enemies, only the Heræum, or temple ofHere, being left. Such was the fate of a city to which eternalsacredness had been pledged. 

_HOW THE LONG WALLS WENT DOWN. _

The retreat of the Persians from Athens left that city without a wall ora home. On the return of the Athenians, and the rebuilding of theirruined homes, a new wall became a necessity, and, under the wise adviceof Themistocles, the citizens determined that the new wall should bemuch larger in circuit than the old, --wide enough to hold all Attica incase of war. 

[Illustration: PIRÆUS, THE PORT OF ATHENS. ]

But no sooner was this begun than a protest arose from rival states. TheSpartans in particular raised such a clamor on the subject thatThemistocles went to that city and denied that he was fortifying Athens. If they did not believe him, they might send there and see. They did so, and the Spartan ambassadors, on arriving there, found the wallscompleted and themselves held as hostages for the safe return ofThemistocles. Not only Athens was thus fortified, but a still strongerwall was built around Piræus, the port, four miles away. 

Years afterwards, when Athens was in a position to defy the protest ofSparta, her famous Long Walls were built, extending from the city to theport, and forming a great artery through which the food and productsbrought in ships from distant lands could flow to the city from the sea, in defiance of foes. These walls it was that enabled Athens to surviveand flourish when all the soil of Attica lay in the hands of the Spartanenemy. But the time came when these walls were to fall, and Athens tolie helpless in the hands of her mortal foe. 

The Peloponnesian war was full of incident, victories and defeats, marches and countermarches, making and breaking of truces, loss ofprovinces and fleets, triumphs of one side and the other, and still theyears rolled on, and neither party became supreme. Athens had itsill-advisers, who kept it at war when it could have won far more byconcluding peace, and who induced it to forget the advice of Periclesand make war on land when its great strength lay in its fleet. 

Its great error, however, was an attempt at foreign conquest, when ithad quite enough to occupy it at home. War broke out between Athens andSicily, and a strong fleet was sent to blockade and seek to capture thecity of Syracuse. This expedition fatally sapped the strength of theAthenian empire. Ships and men were supplied in profusion to take partin a series of military blunders, of which the last were irreparable. The fleet, with all on board, was finally blocked up in the harbor ofSyracuse, defeated in battle, and forced to yield, while of fortythousand Athenian troops but a miserable remnant survived to end theirlives as slaves in Syracusan quarries. It was a disaster such as Athensin its whole career had not endured, and whose consequences wereinevitable. From that time on the supremacy of Athens was at an end. 

Yet for nine years more the war continued, with much the samesuccession of varying events as before. But during this period Spartawas learning an important lesson. If she would defeat Athens, she mustlearn how to win victories on sea as well as on land. After every defeatof a fleet she built and equipped another, and gradually grew strongerin ships, and her seamen more skilful and expert, until the olddifference between Athenian and Spartan seamen ceased to exist. Persiaalso came to the aid of Sparta, supplied her with money, and enabled herto replace her lost ships with ever new ones, while the ship-buildingpower of Athens declined. 

In 405 B. C. The crisis came. Athens was forced to depend solely forsubsistence on her fleet. That gone, all would be gone. In the autumn ofthat year she had a fleet of one hundred and eighty triremes in theHellespont, in the close vicinity of a Spartan fleet of about the sameforce, under an able admiral named Lysander. Ægospotami, or Goat's River(a name of fatal sound to all later Athenians), was the station of theAthenian fleet. That of Sparta lay opposite, across the strait, nearlytwo miles away. 

And now an interesting scene began. Every day the Athenian fleet crossedthe strait and offered battle to the Spartans, daring them to come outfrom their sheltered position. And every day, when the Spartans hadrefused, it would go back to the opposite shore, where many of the menwere permitted to land. Day by day this challenge was repeated, theAthenians growing daily more confident and more careless, and the crewsdispersing in search of food or amusement as soon as they reached theshore. Lysander, meanwhile, fox-like, was on the watch. A scout-shipfollowed the enemy daily. At length, on the fifth day, when the Athenianships had anchored, and the sailors had, as usual, dispersed, thescout-ship hoisted a bright shield as a signal. In an instant the fleetof Lysander, which was all ready, dashed out of its harbor, and rowedwith the utmost speed across the strait. The Athenian commanders, perceiving too late their mistake, did their utmost to recall thescattered crews, but in vain. The Spartan ships dashed in among those ofAthens, found some of them entirely deserted, others nearly so, andwrought with such energy that of the whole fleet only twelve shipsescaped. Nearly all the men ashore were also taken, while this greatvictory was won not only without the loss of a ship, but hardly of aman. The prisoners, three or four thousand in number, in the cruelmanner of the time, were put to death. 

This defeat, so disgraceful to the Athenian commanders, so complete andthorough, was a death-blow to the dominion of Athens. That city was leftat the mercy of its foes. When news of the disaster reached the city, such a night of wailing and woe, of fear and misery, came upon theAthenians as few cities had ever before gone through. Their fleet gone, all was gone. On it depended their food. Their land-supplies had longbeen cut off. No corn-ships could now reach them from the Euxine Sea, and few from other quarters. They might fight still, but the end wassure. The victor at Salamis would soon be a prisoner within her ownwalls. 

Lysander was in no hurry to sail to Athens. That city could wait. Heemployed himself in visiting the islands and cities in alliance with ordependent upon Athens, and inducing them to ally themselves with Sparta. The Athenian garrisons were sent home. Lysander shrewdly calculated thatthe more men the walls of Athens held, the sooner must their food-supplybe exhausted and the end come. At length, in November of 405 B. C. , Lysander sailed with his fleet to Piræus and blockaded its harbor, whilethe land army of the Peloponnesus marched into Attica and encamped atthe gates of Athens. 

That great and proud city was now peopled with despair. The plague whichhad desolated it twenty-five years before now threatened to be succeededby a still more fatal plague, that of famine. Yet pride and resolutionremained. The walls had been strengthened; their defenders could holdout while any food was left; not until men actually began to die ofhunger did they ask for peace. 

The envoys sent to Sparta were refused a hearing. Athens wished topreserve her walls. Sparta sent word that there could be no peace untilthe Long Walls were levelled with the earth. These terms Athens proudlyrefused. Suffering and privation went on. 

For three months longer the siege continued. Though famine dwelt withinevery house, and numbers died of starvation, the Athenians held out withheroic endurance, and refused to surrender on humiliating terms. Butthere could be only one end. Where famine commands man must obey. Peacemust be had at any price, or death would end all, and an envoy was sentout with power to make peace on any terms he could obtain. 

It was pitiable that glorious Athens should be brought to this sad pass. She was so cordially hated by many of the states of Greece that theyvoted for her annihilation, demanding that the entire population shouldbe sold as slaves, and the city and the very name of Athens be utterlyswept from the earth. 

At this dread moment the greatest foe of Athens became almost her onlyfriend. Sparta declared that she would never consent to such a fate forthe city which had been the savior of Greece in the Persian war. In theend peace was offered on the following terms: The Long Walls and thedefences of Piræus should be destroyed; the Athenians should give up allforeign possessions and confine themselves to Attica; they shouldsurrender all their ships-of-war; they should admit all their exiles;they should become allies of Sparta, be friends of her friends and foesof her foes, and follow her leadership on sea and land. 

When the envoy, bearing this ultimatum, returned to Athens, a pitiablespectacle met his eyes. A despairing crowd faced him with beseechingeyes, in terror lest he brought only a message of death or despair. Thousands there were who could not meet him, victims of the increasingfamine. Peace at any price had become a valued boon. Nevertheless, whenthe terms were read in the assembly, there were those there who wouldhave refused them, and who preferred death by starvation to suchdisgrace. The great majority, however, voted to accept them, and wordwas sent to Lysander that Athens yielded to the inevitable. 

And now into the harbor of the Piræus sailed the triumphant Lacedæmonianfleet, just twenty-seven years after the war had begun. With them camethe Athenian exiles, some of whom had served with their city's foes. Theships building in the dock-yards were burned and the arsenals ruined, there being left to Athens only twelve ships-of-war. And then, amid thejoyful shouts of the conquerors, to the music of flutes played by womenand the sportive movements of dancers crowned with wreaths, the LongWalls of Athens began to fall. 

The conquerors themselves lent a hand to this work at first, but itscompletion was left to the Athenians, who with sore hearts and bowedheads for many days worked at the demolition of what so long had beentheir city's strength and pride. 

What followed may be briefly told. Athens had, some time before, fallenunder the power of a Committee of Four Hundred, aristocrats whooverthrew the constitution and reigned supreme until the people rose intheir might and brought their despotism to an end. Now a new oligarchy, called "The Thirty, " and mostly composed of the returned exiles, cameinto despotic power, and the ancient constitution was once more ignored. 

The reign of The Thirty was one of blood, confiscation, and death. Supported by a Spartan garrison, they tyrannized at their own cruelwill, murdering, confiscating, exiling, until they converted Athens intoa prototype of Paris during the French Revolution. 

At length the saturnalia of crime came to an end. Even the enemies ofAthens began to pity her sad state. Those who had been exiled by thesenew tyrants returned to Attica, and war between them and The Thirtybegan. In the end Sparta withdrew her support from the tyrants, those ofthem who had not perished fled, and after nearly a year of terribleanarchy the democracy of Athens was restored, and peace once more spreadits wings over that frightfully afflicted city. 

We may conclude this tale with an episode that took place eleven yearsafter the Long Walls had fallen. As they had gone down to music, theyrose to music again. In these eleven years despotic Sparta had lost manyof her allies, and the Persians, who had become friends of Athens, nowlent a fleet and supplied money to aid in rebuilding the walls. Someeven of those who had danced for joy when the walls went down now gavetheir cheerful aid to raise them up again, so greatly had Spartantyranny changed the tide of feeling. The completion of the walls wascelebrated by a splendid sacrifice and festival banquet, and joy cameback to Athens again. A new era had begun for the city, not one ofdominion and empire, but one marked by some share of her old dignity andimportance in Greece. 

_SOCRATES AND ALCIBIADES. _

During the period of the Peloponnesian war two men became strikinglyprominent in Athens, a statesman and a philosopher, as unlike each otherin character, appearance, aims, and methods as two persons could wellbe, yet the most intimate of friends, and long dividing between them theadmiration of the Athenians. These were the historically famousAlcibiades and Socrates. Alcibiades was a leader in action, Socrates aleader in thought; thus they controlled the two great dominions of humanaffairs. 

Of these two, Socrates was vastly the nobler and higher, Alcibiades muchthe more specious and popular. Democratic Athens was never long withoutits aristocratic leader. For many years it had been Pericles. It nowbecame Alcibiades, a man whose career and character were much more likethose of Themistocles of old than of the sedate and patriotic Pericles. 

Alcibiades was the Adonis of Athens, noted for his beauty, the charm ofhis manner, his winning personality, qualities which made all men hiswilling captives. He was of high birth, great wealth, and luxurious andpleasure-loving disposition, yet with a remarkable power ofaccommodating himself to circumstances, and becoming all things to allmen. While numbers of high-born Athenians admired him for hisextraordinary beauty of person, Socrates saw in him admirable qualitiesof mind, and loved him with a warm affection, which Alcibiades as warmlyreturned. The philosopher gained the greatest influence over hisyouthful friend, taught him to despise affectation and revere virtue, and did much to develop in him noble qualities of thought andaspiration. 

Yet nature had made Alcibiades, and nature's work is hard to undo. Hewas a man of hasty impulse and violent temper, a man destitute of thespirit of patriotism, and in very great measure it was to this brilliantson of Athens that that city owed its lamentable fate. 

No greater contrast could be imagined than was shown by these almostinseparable friends. Alcibiades was tall, shapely, remarkably handsome, fond of showy attire and luxurious surroundings, full of animal spirits, rapid and animated in speech, and aristocratic in sentiment; Socratesshort, thick-set, remarkably ugly, careless in attire, destitute of allcourtly graces, democratic in the highest degree, and despising-utterlythose arts and aims, loves and luxuries, which appealed so strongly tothe soul of his ardent friend. Yet the genius, the intellectualacuteness, the lofty aims, and wonderful conversational power ofSocrates overcame all his natural defects, attracted Alcibiadesirresistibly, and welded the two together in an intellectual sympathythat set aside all differences of form and character. 

The philosopher and the politician owed to each other their lives. Theyserved as soldiers together at Potidæa, lodged in the same tent, andstood side by side in the ranks. Alcibiades was wounded in the battle, but was defended and rescued by his friend, who afterwards persuaded thegenerals to award to him the prize for valor. Later, at the battle ofDelium, Alcibiades protected and saved Socrates. These personal servicesbrought them into still closer relations, while their friendship wasperhaps the stronger from their almost complete diversity of character. 

Unluckily for Athens, Socrates was not able to instil strong principlesof virtue into the mind of the versatile Alcibiades. This ardentpleasure lover was moved by ambition, desire of admiration, love ofdisplay, and fondness for luxurious living, and indulged in excessesthat it was not easy for the more frugal citizens to forgive. He sentseven chariots to the Olympic Games, from which he carried off thefirst, second, and fourth prizes. He gave splendid shows, distributedmoney freely, and in spite of his wanton follies retained numbers offriends among the Athenian people. 

It was to this engaging and ambitious politician that the ruinousSicilian expedition was due. He persuaded the Athenians to engage in it, in spite of wiser advice, and was one of those placed in command. Butthe night before the fleet set sail a dreadful sacrilege took place. Allthe statues of the god Hermes in the city were mutilated by unknownparties, --an outrage which caused almost a panic among thesuperstitious people. Among those accused of this sacrilege wasAlcibiades. There was no evidence against him, and he was permitted toproceed. But after he had reached Sicily he was sent for to return, on anew charge of sacrilege. He refused to do so, fearing the schemes of hisenemies, and, when told that the assembly had voted sentence of deathagainst him, he said, bitterly, "I will make them feel that I _live_!"

He did so. To him Athens was indebted for the ruin of its costlyexpedition. He fled to Sparta and advised the Spartans to send toSyracuse the able general to whom the Athenians owed their fatal defeat. He also advised his new friends to seize and fortify a town in Attica. By this they cut off all the land supply of food from Athens, and didmuch to force the final submission of that city. 

Alcibiades now put on a new guise. He affected to be enraptured withSpartan manners, cropped his hair, lived on black broth, exerciseddiligently, and by his fluent tongue made himself a favorite in thataustere city. But at length, by an idle boast, he roused Spartan enmity, and had to fly again. Now he sought Asia Minor, became a friend ofTissaphernes, the Persian satrap, adopted the excesses of Persianluxury, and sought to break the alliance between Persia and Sparta, which he had before sustained. 

Next, moved by a desire to see his old home, he offered the leadingcitizens of Athens to induce Tissaphernes to come to their aid, on thecondition that he might be permitted to return. But he declared that hewould not come while the democracy was in power, and it was by hisinfluence that the tyrannical Committee of Four Hundred was formed. Afterwards, falling out with these tyrants, Alcibiades turned democratagain, was made admiral of the fleet, and wrought the ruin of theoligarchy which he had raised to power. 

And now this brilliant and fickle son of Athens worked as actively andably for his native city as he had before sought her ruin. Under hiscommand the fleet gained several important victories, and conqueredByzantium and other cities. The ruinous defeat at Ægospotami would nothave occurred had the admiral of the fleet listened to his timelywarning. After the fall of Athens, and during the tyranny of the Thirty, he retired to Asia Minor, where he was honorably received by the satrapPharnabazus. And here the end came to his versatile career. One nightthe house in which he slept was surrounded by a body of armed men andset on fire. He rushed out, sword in hand, but a shower of darts andarrows quickly robbed him of life. Through whose enmity he died is notknown. Thus perished, at less than fifty years of age, one of the mostbrilliant and able of all the Athenians, --one who, had he lived, woulddoubtless have added fresh and striking chapters to the history of hisnative land, though whether to her advantage or injury cannot now betold. 

The career of Socrates was wonderfully different from that of hisbrilliant but unprincipled friend. While Alcibiades was seeking todazzle and control, Socrates was seeking to convince and improvemankind. A striking picture is given us of the physical qualities ofthis great moral philosopher. His ugliness of face was matter of jest inAthens. He had the flat nose, thick lips, and prominent eyes of a satyr. Yet he was as strong as he was ugly. Few Athenians could equal him inendurance. While serving as a soldier, he was able to endure heat andcold, hunger and fatigue, in a manner that astonished his companions. Hewent barefoot in all weather, and wore the same clothing winter andsummer. His diet was of the simplest, but in religious festivals, whenall were expected to indulge, Socrates could drink more wine than anyperson present, without a sign of intoxication. Yet it was his constantaim to limit his wants and to avoid all excess. 

To these qualities of body Socrates added the highest and noblestqualities of mind. Naturally he had a violent temper, but he held itunder severe control, though he could not always avoid a display ofanger under circumstances of great provocation. But his depth ofthought, his remarkable powers of argument, his earnest desire for humanamendment, his incessant moral lessons to the Athenians, place him inthe very first rank of the teachers of mankind. 

Socrates was of humble birth. He was born 469 B. C. And lived for seventyyears. His father was a sculptor, and he followed the same profession. He married, and his wife Xanthippe has become famous for the acidity ofher temper. There is little doubt that Socrates, whose life was spent inarguing and conversing, and who paid little attention to filling thelarder, gave the poor housewife abundant provocation. We know verylittle about the events of his life, except that he served as a soldierin three campaigns, that he strictly obeyed the laws, performed all hisreligious duties, and once, when acting as judge, refused, at the perilof his life, to perform an unjust action. 

Of the daily life of Socrates we have graphic pictures, drawn by hisfriends and followers Xenophon and Plato. From morning to night he mightbe seen in the streets and public places, engaged in endlesstalk, --prattling, his enemies called it. In the early morning, hissturdy figure, shabbily dressed, and his pale and ill-featured face, were familiar visions in the public walks, the gymnasia, and theschools. At the hour when the market-place was most crowded, Socrateswould be there, walking about among the booths and tables, and talkingto every one whom he could induce to listen. Thus was his whole dayspent. He was ready to talk with any one, old or young, rich or poor, being in no sense a respecter of persons. He conversed with artisans, philosophers, students, soldiers, politicians, --all classes of men. Hevisited everywhere, was known to all persons of distinction, and was aspecial friend of Aspasia, the brilliant woman companion of Pericles. 

His conversational powers must have been extraordinary, for none seemedto tire of hearing him, and many sought him in his haunts, eager to hearhis engaging and instructive talk. Many, indeed, in his later years, came from other cities of Greece, drawn to Athens by his fame, andanxious to hear this wonderful conversationalist and teacher. Thesebecame known as his scholars or disciples, though he claimed nothingresembling a school, and received no reward for his teachings. 

The talk of Socrates was never idle or meaningless chat. He felt that hehad a special mission to fulfil, that in a sense he was an envoy to manfrom the gods, and declared that, from childhood on, a divine voice hadspoken to him, unheard by others, warning and restraining him fromunwise acts or sayings. It forbade him to enter public life, controlledhim day by day, and was frequently mentioned by him to his disciples. This guardian voice has become known as the dæmon or genius of Socrates. 

The oracle at Delphi said that no man was wiser than Socrates. To learnif this was true and he really was wiser than other men, he questionedeverybody everywhere, seeking to learn what they knew, and leading themon by question after question till he usually found that they knew verylittle of what they professed. 

As to what Socrates taught, we can only say here that he was the firstgreat ethical philosopher. The philosophers before him had sought toexplain the mystery of the universe. He declared that all this wasuseless and profitless. Man's mind was superior to all matter, and heled men to look within, study their own souls, consider the question ofhuman duty, the obligations of man to man, and all that leads towardsvirtue and the moral development of human society. 

It is not surprising that Xanthippe scolded her idle husband, whosupplied so much food for the souls of others, but quite ignored thedemands of food for the bodies of his wife and children. His teachingswere but vaporing talk to her small mind and to those of many of thepeople. And the keen questions with which he convicted so many ofignorance, and the sarcastic irony with which he wounded theirself-love, certainly did not make him friends among this class. Intruth, he made many enemies. One of these was Aristophanes, thedramatist, who wrote a comedy in which he sought to make Socratesridiculous. This turned many of the audiences at the theatres againsthim. 

[Illustration: PRISON OF SOCRATES, ATHENS. ]

All this went on until the year 399 B. C. , when some of his enemiesaccused him of impiety, declaring that he did not worship the old gods, but introduced new ones and corrupted the minds of the young. "Thepenalty due, " they said, "is death. "

It had taken them some thirty years to find this out, for Socrates hadbeen teaching the same things for that length of time. In fact, noancient city but Athens would have listened to his radical talk for somany years without some such charge. But he had now so many enemies thatthe accusation was dangerous. He made it worse by his carelessness inhis defence. He said things that provoked his judges. He could have beenacquitted if he wished, for in the final vote only a majority of five orsix out of nearly six hundred brought him in guilty. 

Socrates seemingly did not care what verdict they brought. He had nofear of death, and would not trouble himself to say a word to preservehis life. The divine voice, he declared, would not permit him. He wassentenced to drink the poison of hemlock, and was imprisoned for thirtydays, during which he conversed in his old calm manner with his friends. 

Some of his disciples arranged a plan for his escape, but he refused tofly. If his fellow-citizens wished to take his life he would not opposetheir wills. On the last day he drank the hemlock as calmly as though itwere his usual beverage, and talked on quietly till death sealed histongue. 

Thus died the first and one of the greatest of ethical philosophers, anda man without a parallel, in his peculiar field, in all the history ofmankind. Greece produced none like him, and this homely and humblepersonage, who wrote not a line, has been unsurpassed in fame andinfluence upon mankind by any of the host of illustrious writers whohave made famous the Hellenic lands. 

_THE RETREAT OF THE TEN THOUSAND. _

We have now to tell of one of the most remarkable events in Grecianhistory, to describe how ten thousand Greeks, who found themselves inthe heart of the great Persian empire, without a leader and almostwithout food, marched through the land of their foes, over ruggedmountains swarming with enemies, and across lofty plains covered deepwith snow, until finally they reached once more their native land. Xenophon, their chosen leader, has told the story of this wonderfulmarch in a book called the "Anabasis, " and from this book we take whatwe have here to say. 

First, how came these Greeks so far away from their home and friends? Wehave told elsewhere how the Persians several times invaded Greece. Wehave now to tell how the Greeks first invaded Persia. It happened manyyears afterwards. The Persian king Xerxes had long since been dead, andsucceeded by his son Artaxerxes, who reigned over Persia for nearlyforty years. Then came Darius Nothus, whose reign lasted nineteen years. This king had two sons, Artaxerxes and Cyrus. On his death he bequeathedthe throne to Artaxerxes, while Cyrus was left satrap of a largeprovince in Asia Minor. 

Of these two sons, the new king was timid and incompetent; Cyrus wasremarkably shrewd and able, and was filled with a consuming ambition. Hewanted the Persian throne and knew the best means of obtaining it. Hewas well aware of the military ability of the Greeks. It was he whosupplied the money which enabled Sparta to overthrow Athens. He nowsecretly enlisted a body of about thirteen thousand Greeks, promisingthem high pay if they would enter his service; and with these, and onehundred thousand Asiatics, he marched against his brother. 

But Cyrus was too shrewd to let his purpose be known. He gave out thathe was going to put down some brigand mountaineers. Then when he had gothis army far eastward, he threw off the mask and started on the longmarch across the desert to Babylonia. The Greeks had been deceived. Atfirst they refused to follow him on so perilous an errand, and to such adistance from home. But by liberal promises he overcame theirobjections, and they marched on till the heart of Babylonia was reached. 

The army was now in the wonderfully fertile country between the riversEuphrates and Tigris, that rich Mesopotamian region which had been partof the Persian empire since the great cities of Nineveh and Babylon weretaken by the Persians a century before. And in all this long march noenemy had been met. But now Cyrus and his followers found themselvessuddenly confronted by a great Persian army, led by Artaxerxes, theking. 

First a great cloud of white dust was seen in the distance. Then underit appeared on the earth a broad dark spot, which widened and deepenedas it came nearer, until at length armor began to shine and spear-headsto glitter, and dense masses of troops appeared beneath the cloud. Herewere great troops of cavalry, wearing white cuirasses; here a vast arrayof bowmen with wicker shields, spiked so that they could thrust theirpoints into the ground and send their arrows from behind them; there adark mass of Egyptian infantry, with long wooden shields that coveredthe whole body; in front of all was a row of chariots, with scythesstretching outward from the wheels, so as to mow down the ranks throughwhich they were driven. 

These scythed chariots faced the Greeks, whose ranks they were intendedto break. But when the battle-shout was given, and the dense mass ofGreeks rushed forward at a rapid pace, the Persians before them brokeinto a sudden panic and fled, the drivers of the chariots leaping wildlyto the ground and joining in the flight. The horses, left to themselves, and scared by the tumult, rushed in all directions, many of themhurtling with their scythed chariots through the flying host, otherscoming against the Greeks, who opened their ranks to let them pass. Inthat part of the field the battle was won without a blow being struck ora man killed. The very presence of the Greeks had brought victory. 

The great Persian army would soon have been all in flight but for anunlooked-for event. Artaxerxes, in the centre of his army, wassurrounded by a body-guard of six thousand horse. Against these Cyrus, followed by six hundred horse, made an impetuous charge. So fierce wasthe onset that the body-guard were soon in full flight, Cyrus killingtheir general with his own hand. The six hundred hotly pursued theirflying foe, leaving Cyrus almost alone. And now before him appeared hisbrother Artaxerxes, exposed by the flight of his guard. 

Between these two men brotherly affection did not exist. They viewedeach other as bitter enemies. So fiercely did Cyrus hate his brotherthat on seeing him he burst into a paroxysm of rage which robbed him ofall the prudence and judgment he had so far shown. "I see the man!" hecried in tones of fury, and rushed hotly forward, followed only by thefew companions who remained with him, against Artaxerxes and the strongforce still with him. As Cyrus came near the king he cast his javelin sotruly, and with such force, that it pierced the cuirass of Artaxerxes, and wounded him in the breast. Yet the assault of Cyrus was a mad one, and it met the end of madness. He was struck below the eye by a javelin, hurled from his horse and instantly slain; his few followers quicklysharing his fate. 

The head and right hand of the slain prince were immediately cut off andheld up to the view of all within sight, and the contest was proclaimedat an end. The Asiatic army of Cyrus, on learning of the fatal disaster, turned and fled. The Greeks held their own and repulsed all that cameagainst them, in ignorance of the death of Cyrus, of which they did nothear till the next morning. The news then filled them with sorrow anddismay. 

What followed must be briefly told. The position of the Greeks, muchmore than a thousand miles from their country, in the heart of an empirefilled with foes, and in the presence of a vast hostile army, seemedhopeless. Yet they refused to surrender at the demand of the king. Theywere victors, not defeated men; why should they surrender? "If the kingwants our arms, let him come and try to take them, " they said. "Our armsare all the treasure we have left; we shall not be fools enough to handthem over to you, but shall use them to fight for your treasure. "

This challenge King Artaxerxes showed no inclination to accept. Both heand his army feared the Greeks. As for the latter, they immediatelybegan their retreat. They could not go back over the desert by whichthey had come, that was impossible; they therefore chose a longer road, but with more chance of food, leading up the left bank of the TigrisRiver and proceeding to the Euxine, or Black Sea. It was in dread andhopelessness that the solitary band began this long and perilous march, through a country of which they knew nothing, amid hosts of foes, andwith the winter at hand. But they were soon to experience a newmisfortune and be left in a still more hopeless state. 

Their boldness had so intimidated King Artaxerxes that he sent heraldsto them to treat for a truce. "Go tell the king, " their general replied, "that our first business must be to fight. We have nothing to eat, andno man should talk to Greeks about a truce without first providing themwith a dinner. "

The result of this bold answer was that food was provided, a trucedeclared, and Tissaphernes, a Persian satrap, with a body of troops, undertook to conduct the Greeks out of the country. Crossing the Tigris, they marched for fifteen days up its east side, until the Great ZabRiver, in the country of Media, was reached. Here the treachery whichTissaphernes had all along intended was consummated. He invitedClearchus, the Greek leader, and the other generals to a conference withhim in his tent, --three miles from their camp. They incautiouslyaccepted, and on arriving there were immediately seized, the captainsand soldiers who had accompanied them cut down, and the generals sent inchains to the king, who ordered them all to be put to death. 

This loss of their leaders threw the Greeks into despair. Ruin appearedinevitable. In the midst of a hostile country, more than a thousandmiles from Grecian soil, surrounded by enemies, blocked up by deeprivers and almost impassable mountains, without guides, withoutprovisions, without cavalry, without generals to give orders, what werethey to do? A stupor of helplessness seized upon them. Few came to theevening muster; few lighted fires to cook their suppers; every man laydown to rest where he was; yet fear, anguish, and yearning for homedrove sleep from every eye. The expectation of the Persians that theywould now surrender seemed likely to be realized, for without a guidinghead and hand there seemed to many of the disheartened host nothing elseto do. 

Yet they were not all in that mood. One among them, a volunteer, withno rank in the army, but with ample courage, brought back by brave wordshope to their souls. This man, an Athenian, Xenophon by name, and one ofthe disciples of Socrates the philosopher, had an encouraging dream inthe night, and at once rose, called into council the captains of thehost, and advised them to select new generals to take the place of thefour who had been seized. This was done, Xenophon being one of the newleaders. At daybreak the soldiers were called together, told what hadbeen done in the night, and asked to confirm the action of theircaptains. This they did. 

Xenophon, the orator of the army, now made them a stirring speech. Hetold them that they need not fear the Persians, who were cowards andtraitors, as they knew. If provisions were no longer furnished them, they could take them for themselves. If rivers were to be crossed, theycould march up their course and wade them where not deep. "Let us burnour baggage-wagons and tents, and carry only what is strictly needful. Above all, let us maintain discipline and obedience to commanders. Nowis the time for action. If any man has anything better to suggest, lethim state it. We all have but one object, --the common safety. "

No one had anything better to suggest; the soldiers enthusiasticallyaccepted Xenophon's plan of action, and soon were on the march again, with Tissaphernes, their late guide, now their open foe. They marched ina hollow oblong body, with the baggage in the centre. Here also walkedthe women, of whom many had accompanied the army through all its career. 

Crossing the Great Zab River, the Greeks continued their march, thoughsurrounded by enemies, many of them horsemen, who cast javelins andarrows into their ranks, and fled when pursued. That night they reachedsome villages, bearing their wounded, who were many, and deeplydiscouraged. During the night the Greeks organized a small body ofcavalry and two hundred Rhodian slingers, who threw leaden bulletsinstead of stones. The next day they were attacked by a body of fourthousand confident Persians, who expected an easy victory. Yet when thefew horsemen and slingers of the Greeks attacked them they fled indismay, and many of them were killed in a ravine which they were forcedto traverse. 

On went the fugitives, day by day, still assailed, still repelling theirfoes. On the fifth day they saw a palace, around which lay manyvillages. To reach it they had high hills to pass, and here theirenemies appeared on the summits, showering down arrows, darts, andstones. The Greeks finally dislodged them by mounting to higher points, and by night had fought their way to the villages, where they foundabundance of food and wine, and where they rested for three days. 

On starting again the troops of Tissaphernes annoyed them as before. They now adopted a new plan. Whenever the enemy came up they halted atsome village and fought them from their camp. Each night the Persianswithdrew about ten miles, lest they might be surprised when theirhorses were shackled and they unarmed. This custom the Greeks now tookadvantage of. As soon as the enemy had withdrawn to their nightly campthe march was resumed and continued for some ten miles. The distancegained gave the Greeks two days of peaceful progress before their foescame up again. 

On the fourth day the Greeks saw before them a lofty hill, which must bepassed, and which their enemies occupied, having got past them in thenight. Their march seemed at an end, for the path that must be taken wascompletely commanded by the weapons of the foe. What was to be done? Aconference took place between Xenophon and the Spartan Cheirisophus, hisprincipal colleague. Xenophon perceived that from the top of a mountainnear the army the hill held by the enemy might be reached. 

"The best thing we can do is to gain the top of this mountain with allhaste, " he said; "if we are once masters of that the enemy cannotmaintain themselves on the hill. You stay with the army, if you thinkfit, and I will go up the hill. Or you go, if you desire, and I willstay here. "

"I give you your choice, " answered Cheirisophus. 

"Then I will go, as I am the younger man, " said Xenophon. 

Taking a strong force from the van of the army, Xenophon at once beganto climb the hill. The enemy, seeing this movement, hastily detached aforce for the same purpose. Both sides shouted encouragement to theirmen, and Xenophon, riding beside his troop, spurred them to exertion byreminding them of their wives and children at home. And here took placeone of those occurrences which gave this leader so much influence overhis men. 

"We are not upon equal terms, Xenophon, " said Soteridas, a soldier fromSicyon, "for you are on horseback, while I am weary from carrying myshield. "

Instantly Xenophon sprang from his horse, took the man's shield from hisarm, and thrust him out of the ranks, taking his place. The horseman'scorselet which he wore, added to by the weight of the shield, gave himmuch annoyance. But he called out bravely to the men to hasten theirpace. 

On this the other soldiers began to abuse and stone Soteridas, making itso unpleasant for him that he was glad to ask for his shield again. Xenophon now remounted and rode as far as his horse could go, thensprang down and hastened onward on foot. Such was the speed made thatthey reached the summit before the foe, whereupon the enemy fled, leaving the road open to the Greeks. That evening they reached the plainbeyond, where they found a village abounding in food; and in this plain, near the Tigris, many other villages were found, well filled with allsorts of provisions. 

Finding it impossible to cross the Tigris in the face of the enemy, wholined its western bank, the Greeks were obliged to continue their courseup its eastern side. This would bring them to the elevated table land ofArmenia, but first they would have to cross the rugged CarduchianMountains, inhabited by a tribe so fierce that they had hitherto defiedall the power of Persia, and had once destroyed a Persian army of onehundred and twenty thousand men. These mountains must be crossed, butthe mountaineers proved fiercely hostile. Seven days were occupied inthe task, and these were days of constant battle and loss. At one passthe Carduchians rolled down such incessant masses of rocks that progresswas impossible, and the Greeks were almost in despair. Fortunately aprisoner showed them a pass by which they could get above thesedefenders, who, on seeing themselves thus exposed, took to their heels, and left the way open to the main body of the Greek army. Glad enoughwere the disheartened adventurers to see once more a plain, and findthemselves past these dreaded hills and on the banks of an Armenianriver. 

But they now had the Persians again in their front, with the Carduchiansin their rear, and it was with no small difficulty that they reached thenorth side of this stream. In Armenia they had new perils to encounter. The winter was upon them, and the country covered with snow. Reaching atlength the head-waters of the Euphrates, they waded across, and therefound themselves in such deep snow and facing such fierce winds thatmany slaves and draught-horses died of cold, together with about thirtysoldiers. Some of the men lost their sight from the snow-glare; othershad their feet badly frosted; food was very scarce; the foe was in theirrear. It was a miserable and woe-begone army that at length gladlyreached, on the summit of some hills, a number of villages well storedwith food. 

In the country of the Taochians, which the fugitives next reached, thepeople carried off all their food into mountain strongholds, andstarvation threatened the Greeks. One of these strongholds was reached, a lofty place surrounded by precipices, where great numbers of men andwomen, with their cattle, had assembled. Yet, strong as it was, it mustbe taken, or the army would be starved. 

As they sought to ascend, stones came down in showers, breaking the legsand ribs of the unlucky climbers. By stratagem, however, the Greeksinduced the defenders to exhaust their ammunition of stones, thesoldiers pretending to advance, and then running back behind trees asthe stones came crashing down. Finally several bold men made a dash forthe top, others followed, and the place was won. Then came a dreadfulscene. The women threw their children down the precipice, and thenleaped after them. The men did the same. Æneas, a captain, seeing arichly-dressed barbarian about to throw himself down the height, caughthold of him. It was a fatal impulse of cupidity. The Taochian seized himin a fierce grasp and sprang with him over the brink, both being dashedto pieces below. Very few prisoners were made, but, what was more to thepurpose of the Greeks, a large number of oxen, asses, and sheep wereobtained. 

At another point, where a mountain-pass had to be crossed, which couldonly be done by ascending the mountain by stealth at night, and soturning the position of the enemy, an amusing piece of badinage tookplace between Xenophon, the Athenian, and Cheirisophus, the Spartan. 

"Stealing a march upon the enemy is more your trade than mine, " saidXenophon. "For I understand that you, the full citizens and peers atSparta, practise stealing from your boyhood upward, and that it is heldno way base, but even honorable, to steal such things as the law doesnot distinctly forbid. And to the end that you may steal with thegreatest effect, and take pains to do it in secret, the custom is toflog you if you are found out. Here, then, you have an excellentopportunity to display your training. Take good care that we be notfound out in stealing an occupation of the mountain now before us; forif we _are_ found out, we shall be well beaten. "

"Why, as to that, " retorted Cheirisophus, good-humoredly, "you Atheniansalso, as I learn, are capital hands at stealing the public money, andthat, too, in spite of prodigious peril to the thief. Nay, your mostpowerful men steal most of all, at least if it be the most powerful menamong you who are raised to official command. So this is a time for_you_ to exhibit your training, as well as for me to exhibit mine. "

Leaving the land of the Taochi, the Greeks entered that of the Chalybes, which they were seven days in passing through. All the food here wascarried off, and they had to live on the cattle they had recently won. Then came the country of the Skythini, where they found villages andfood. Four days more brought them to a large and flourishing city namedGymnias. They were now evidently drawing near to the sea andcivilization. 

In feet, the chief of this city told them that the sea was but fivedays' journey away, and gave them a guide who in that time would conductthem to a hill from which they could see the Euxine's distant waves. Onthey went, and at length, while Xenophon was driving off some nativesthat had attacked the rear of the column, he heard loud shouts in front. Thinking that the van had been assailed, he rode hastily forward at thehead of his few cavalry, the noise increasing as he approached. 

At length the sounds took shape in words. "_Thalatta! Thalatta!_" ("Thesea! The sea!") cried the Greeks, in tones of exultation and ecstasy. All, excited by the sound, came hurrying up to the summit, and burstinto simultaneous shouts of joy as they saw, far in the distance, thegleaming waters of the long-prayed-for sea. Tears, embraces, cries ofwild delight, manifested their intense feeling, and for the time beingthe whole army went mad with joy. The terrors of their march were at anend; they were on the verge of Grecian territory again; and with pridethey felt that they had achieved an enterprise such as the world hadnever known before. 

A few words will suffice to complete their tale. Reaching the city ofTrebizond, they took ship for home. Fifteen months had passed since theyset out with the army of Cyrus. After various further adventures, Xenophon led them on a pillaging expedition against the Persians of AsiaMinor, paid them all richly from the plunder, and gained himselfsufficient wealth to enrich him for the remainder of his days. 

_THE RESCUE OF THEBES. _

On a certain cold and wet evening, in the month of December of the year379 B. C. , seven men, dressed as rustics or hunters, and to allappearance unarmed, though each man had a dagger concealed beneath hisclothes, appeared at the gate of Thebes, the principal city of theBoeotian confederacy. They had come that day from Athens, making theirway afoot across Mount Cithæron, which lay between. It was now justnightfall and most of the farmers had come into the city from thefields, but some late ones were still returning. Mingling with these, the seven strangers entered the gates, unnoticed by the guards, and werequickly lost to sight in the city streets. Quietly as they had come, thenoise of their coming was soon to resound throughout Greece, for thearrival of those seven men was the first step in a revolution that wasdestined to overturn all the existing conditions of Grecian states. 

We should like to go straight on with their story; but to make it clearto our readers we must go back and offer a short extract from earlierhistory. Hitherto the history of Greece had been largely the history oftwo cities, Athens and Sparta. The other cities had all played second orthird parts to these great and proud municipalities. But now a thirdcity, Thebes, was about to come forward, and assume a leading place inthe history of Greece. And of the two men who were to guide it in thisproud career, one was among the seven who entered the gates of the cityin rustic garb that rainy December night. 

Of the earlier history of Thebes little need be said. It played its partin the legendary story of Greece, as may be seen in our story of the"Seven against Thebes. " During the Persian invasion Thebes proved falseto its country, assisted the invaders, and after their repulse waspunished for its treasonable acts. Later on it came again into prominentnotice. During the Peloponnesian war it was a strong ally of Sparta. Another city, only six miles away, Platæa, was as strong an ally ofAthens. And the inhabitants of these two cities hated each other withthe bitterest animosity. It is a striking example of the isolatedcharacter of Greek communities, and one that it is difficult tounderstand in modern times, that two cities of one small state, so neartogether that an easy two hours' walk would take a traveller from thegates of one to those of the other, could be the bitterest of enemies, sworn allies of two hostile states, and the inhabitants ready to cuteach other's throats at any opportunity. Certainly the sentiment ofhuman brotherhood has vastly widened since then. There are no two citiesin the civilized world to-day that feel to each other as did Platæa andThebes, only six miles apart, in that famous era of Grecianenlightenment. 

We have told how Platæa was taken and destroyed, and its defendersmurdered, by a Spartan army. But it is well to say here that Thebansformed the most fiercely hostile part of that army, and that it was theThebans who demanded and obtained the murder in cold blood of thehapless prisoners. 

And now we pass on to a date less than fifty years later to find aremarkable change in the state of affairs. Athens has fallen from herhigh estate. Sparta is now the lord and master of the Grecian world. Anda harsh master has she proved, with her controlling agents in everycity, her voice the arbiter in all political concerns. 

Thebes is now the friend of Athens and the foe of Sparta, the chiefamong those cities which oppose the new order of things. Yet Thebes in379 B. C. Lies hard and fast within the Spartan clutch. How she got thereis now for us to tell. 

It was an act of treason, some three years before, that handed this cityover to the tender mercies of her old ally, her present foe. There was aparty in Thebes favorable to Sparta, at whose head was a man namedLeontiades. And at this time Sparta was at war with Olynthus, a city farto the north. One Spartan army had marched to Olynthus. Another, led bya general named Phoebidas, was on its march thither, and had haltedfor a period of rest near the gymnasium, a short distance outside thewalls of Thebes. There is good reason to believe that Phoebidas wellknew what Leontiades designed, and was quite ready to play his part inthe treacherous scheme. 

It was the day of the Thesmophoria, a religious festival celebrated bywomen only, no men being admitted. The Cadmeia, or citadel, had beengiven to their use, and was now occupied by women alone. It was a warmsummer's day. The heat of noon had driven the people from the streets. The Senate of the city was in session in the portico of the agora, orforum, but their deliberations were drowsily conducted and the wholecity seemed taking a noontide siesta. 

Phoebidas chose this warm noontide to put his army in march again, rounding the walls of Thebes. As the van passed the gates Leontiades, who had stolen away from the Senate and hastened on horseback throughthe deserted streets, rode up to the Spartan commander, and bade himturn and march inward through the gate which lay invitingly open beforehim. Through the deserted streets Phoebidas and his men rapidly madetheir way, following the traitor Theban, to the gates of the Cadmeia, which, like those of the town, were thrown open to his order aspolemarch, or war governor; and the Spartans, pouring in, soon weremasters not only of the citadel, but of the wives and daughters of theleading Theban citizens as well. 

The news got abroad only when it was too late to remedy the treacherousact. The Senate heard with consternation that their acropolis was in thehands of their enemies, their wives captives, their city at the mercy ofthe foe. Leontiades returned to his seat and at once gave orders for thearrest of his chief opponent Ismenias. He had a party armed and ready. The Senate was helpless. Ismenias was seized and conveyed to Sparta, where he was basely put to death. The other senators hurried home, gladto escape with their lives. Three hundred of them left the city inhaste, and made their way as exiles to Athens. The other citizens, whosewives and daughters were in Spartan hands, felt obliged to submit. "Order reigned" in Thebes; such was the message which Leontiades bore toSparta. 

Thus it was that Sparta gained possession of one of her greatestopponents. Leontiades and his fellows, backed by a Spartan general, ruled the city harshly. The rich were robbed, the prisons were filled, many more citizens fled into exile. Thebes was in the condition of aconquered city; the people, helpless and indignant, waited impatientlythe slow revolution of the wheel of destiny which should once more setthem free. 

As for the exiles at Athens, they sought in vain to obtain Athenian aidto recover their city from the foe. Athens was by no means in love withSparta, but peace had been declared, and all they could agree to do wasto give the fugitives a place of refuge. Evidently the city, which hadbeen won by treason, was not to be recovered by open war. If set free atall it must be by secret measures. And with this intent a conspiracy wasformed between the leaders of the exiles and certain citizens of Thebesfor the overthrow of Leontiades and his colleagues and the expulsion ofthe Spartan garrison from the citadel. And this it was that brought theseven men to Thebes, --seven exiles, armed with hidden daggers, withwhich they were to win a city and start a revolution which in the endwould destroy the power of Sparta the imperial. 

Of the seven exiles who thus returned, under cover of night anddisguise, to their native city, the chief was Pelopidas, a rich andpatriotic Theban, who was yet to prove himself one of the great men ofGreece. Entering the gates, they proceeded quietly through the streets, and soon found an abiding-place in the house of Charon, an earnestpatriot. This was their appointed rendezvous. 

And now we have a curious incident to tell, showing on what smallaccidents great events may hinge. Among the Thebans who had been letinto the secret of the conspiracy was a faint-hearted man namedHipposthenidas. As the time for action drew near this timid fellow grewmore and more frightened, and at length took upon himself, unknown tothe rest, to stop the coming of the exiled patriots. He ordered Chlidon, a faithful slave of one of the seven, to ride in haste from Thebes, meethis master on the road, and bid him and his companions to go back toAthens, as circumstances had arisen which made their coming dangerousand their project impracticable. 

Chlidon, ready to obey orders, went home for his bridle, but failed tofind it in its usual place. He asked his wife where it was. Shepretended at first to help him look for it, but at last, in a tone ofcontrition, acknowledged that she had lent it, without asking him, to aneighbor. Chlidon, in a burst of anger at the delay to his journey, entered into a loud altercation with the woman, who grew angry on herpart and wished him ill luck on his journey. Word led to word, bothsides grew more angry and abusive, and at length he began to beat hiswife, and continued his ill treatment until her cries brought neighborsin to separate them. But all this caused a loss of time, the bridle wasnot in this way to be had, and in the end Chlidon's journey was stopped, and the message he had been asked to bear never reached the conspiratorson their way. Accidents of this kind often frustrate the best-laidplans. In this case the accident was providential to the conspiracy. 

And now, what were these seven men to do? Four men--Leontiades, Archias, Philippus, and Hypates--had the city under their control. But they weresupported in their tyranny by a garrison of fifteen hundred Spartans andallies in the Cadmeia, and Lacedæmonian posts in the other citiesaround. These four men were to be dealt with, and for that purpose theseven had come. On the evening of the next day Archias and Philippusdesigned to have a banquet. Phyllidas, their secretary, but secretly oneof the patriots, had been ordered to prepare the banquet for them, andhad promised to introduce into their society on that occasion some womenof remarkable beauty and of the best families in Thebes. He did not hintto them that these women would wear beards and carry daggers under theirrobes. 

We have told, in a previous tale, the story of the "Seven againstThebes. " The one with which we are now concerned might be properlyentitled the "Seven for Thebes. " That night and the following day thedevoted seven lay concealed. Evening came on. The hour when they were toplay their parts had nearly arrived. They were in that state of strainedexpectation that brings the nerves to the surface, and started in suddendread when a loud knock came upon the door. They were still morestartled on hearing its purpose. A messenger had come to bid Charoninstantly to come to the presence of the two feasting polemarchs. 

What did it mean? Had the plot been divulged? Had the timidHipposthenidas betrayed them? At any rate, there was but one thing todo; Charon must go at once. But he, faithful soul, was most in dreadthat his friends should suspect him of treachery. He therefore broughthis son, a highly promising youth of fifteen, and put him in the handsof Pelopidas as a hostage for his fidelity. 

"This is folly!" cried they all. "No one doubts you. Take the boy away. It is enough for us to face the danger; do not seek to bring the boyinto the same peril. "

Charon would not listen to their remonstrances, but insisted on leavingthe youth in their hands, and hastened away to the house of thepolemarchs. He found them at the feast, already half intoxicated. Wordhad been sent them from Athens that some plot, they knew not what, wasafloat. He was known to be a friend of the exiles. He must tell themwhat he knew about it. 

Fortunately, the pair were too nearly drunk to be acute. Theirsuspicions were very vague. Charon, aided by Phyllidas, had littletrouble in satisfying them that the report was false. Eager to get backto their wine they dismissed him, very glad indeed to get away. Hardlyhad he gone before a fresh message, and a far more dangerous one, wasbrought to Archias, sent by a namesake of his at Athens. This gave afull account of the scheme and the names of those who were to carry itout. "It relates to a very serious matter, " said the messenger who boreit. 

"Serious matters for to-morrow, " cried Archias, with a drunken laugh, ashe put the unopened despatch under the pillow of his couch and took upthe wine-cup again. 

"Those whom the gods mean to destroy they first make mad, " says anapposite Grecian proverb. These men were foredoomed. 

"A truce to all this disturbance, " cried the two polemarchs toPhyllidas. "Where are the women whom you promised us? Let us see thesefamous high-born beauties. "

Phyllidas at once retired, and quickly returned with the sevenconspirators, clothed in female attire. Leaving them in an adjoiningchamber, he entered the banquet-room, and told the feasters that thewomen refused to come in unless all the domestics were first dismissed. 

"Let it be so, " said Archias, and at the command of Phyllidas thedomestics sought the house of one of their number, where the astutesecretary had well supplied them with wine. 

The two polemarchs, with one or two friends, alone remained, all halfintoxicated, and the only armed one being Cabeirichus, the archon, whowas obliged by law to keep always with him the consecrated spear ofoffice. 

And now the supposed and eagerly expected women were brought in, --threeof them attired as ladies of distinction, the four others dressed asattendants. Their long veils and ample robes completely disguised them, and they sat down beside the polemarchs without a suspicion beingentertained. Not till their drunken companions lifted their veils didthe truth appear. But the lifting of the veils was the signal for quickand deep dagger thrusts, and Archias and Philippus, with scarcely amovement of resistance, fell dead from their seats. No harm was meant tothe others, but the drunken archon rushed on the conspirators with hisspear, and in consequence perished with his friends. 

There were two more of the tyrants to deal with. Phyllidas led three ofthe conspirators to the house of Leontiades, into which he was admittedas the bearer of an order from the polemarchs. Leontiades was recliningafter supper, with his wife spinning wool by his side, when his foesentered his chamber, dagger in hand. A bold and strong man, he instantlysprang up, seized his sword, and with a thrust mortally wounded thefirst of the three. Then a desperate struggle took place in the doorwaybetween him and Pelopidas, the place being too narrow for the third toapproach. In the end Pelopidas dealt him a mortal blow. Then, threatening the wife with death if she gave the alarm, and closing thedoor with stern commands that it should not be opened again, the twopatriots left the house and sought that of Hypates. He took the alarmand fled, and was pursued to the roof, where he was killed as he wastrying to escape over the house-tops. 

This work done, and no alarm yet given, the conspirators proceeded tothe prison, whose doors they ordered to be opened. The jailer hesitated, and was slain by a spear-thrust, the patriots rushing over his body intothe prison, from whose cells the tenants were soon released. These, onehundred and fifty in number, sufferers for their patriotic sentiments, were quickly armed from battle-spoils kept near by, and drawn up inbattle array. And now, for the first time, did the daring conspiratorsfeel assurance of success. 

[Illustration: GATE OF THE AGORA OR OIL MARKET, ATHENS. ]

The tidings of what had been done by this time got abroad, and ran likewildfire through the city. Citizens poured excitedly into the streets. Epaminondas, who was afterwards to become the great leader of theThebans, joined with some friends the small array of patriots. Proclamation was made throughout the city by heralds that the despotswere slain and Thebes was free, and all Thebans who valued liberty werebidden to muster in arms in the market-place. All the trumpeters in thecity were bidden to blow with might and main, from street to street, andthus excite the people to take arms to secure their liberty. 

While night lasted surprise and doubt continued, many of the citizensnot knowing what to do. But with day-dawn came a wild outburst of joyand enthusiasm. Horsemen and footmen hastened in arms to the agora. Here a formal assembly of the Theban people was convened, before whomPelopidas and his fellows appeared to tell what they had done. Thepriests crowned them with wreaths, while the people hailed them withjoyful acclamations. With a single voice they nominated Pelopidas, Mellon, and Charon as Boeotarchs, --a Theban title of authority whichhad for a number of years been dropped. 

Such was the hatred which the long oppression had aroused, that the verywomen trod underfoot the slain jailer, and spat upon his corpse. In thatcity, where women rarely showed themselves in public, this outburststrongly indicated the general public rage against the overthrowndespots. Messengers hastened to Attica to carry to the exiles the gladtidings, and soon they, with a body of Athenian volunteers, were injoyful march for the city. 

Meanwhile, the Spartans in the citadel were in a state of distractionand alarm. All night long the flashing of lights, the blare of trumpets, the shouts of excited patriots, the sound of hurrying feet in the city, had disturbed their troubled souls, and when affrighted partisans of thedefeated party came hurrying for safety into the Cadmeia, with tidingsof the tragic event, they were filled with confusion and dismay. Accustomed to look to the polemarchs for orders, the garrison did notknow whom to trust or consult. They hastily sent out messengers toThespiæ and Platæa for aid, but the forces which came to their help fromthese cities were charged upon by the Thebans and driven back with loss. 

What to do the Spartan commander knew not. The citizens were swarmingin the streets, and gathering in force around the citadel. That theyintended to storm it before aid could come from Sparta was evident. Infact, they were already rushing to the assault, --large rewards beingoffered those who should first force their way in, --when a flag of trucefrom the garrison stopped them in mid-career. The commander proposed tocapitulate. 

All he asked was liberty to march out of Thebes with the honors of war. This was granted him, under oath. At once the foreign garrison filed outfrom the citadel and marched to one of the gates, accompanied by theTheban refugees who had sought shelter with them. These latter had notbeen granted the honors of war. Among them were some of the prominentoppressors of the people. In a burst of ungovernable rage these weretorn from the Spartan ranks by the people and put to death; even thechildren of some of them being slain. Few of the refugees would haveescaped but for the Athenians present, who generously helped to get themsafely through the gates and out of sight and reach of their infuriatedtownsmen. 

And thus, almost without a blow, in a night's and a morning's work, thecity of Thebes, which for several years had lain helpless in the handsof its foes, regained its liberty. As for the Spartan harmosts, orleaders, who had capitulated without an attempt at defence, two of themwere put to death on reaching home, the third was heavily fined andbanished. Sparta had no mercy and no room for beaten men. 

Thebes was free! The news spread like an electric shock through theGrecian world. A few men, taking a desperate risk, had in an houroverthrown a government that seemed beyond assault. The empire ofSparta, the day before undisputed and nearly universal over Greece, hadreceived a serious blow. Throughout all Greece men breathed easier, while the spirit of patriotism suddenly flamed again. The first blow ina coming revolution had been struck. 

_THE HUMILIATION OF SPARTA. _

Thebes was free! But would she stay free? Sparta was againsther, --Sparta, the lord of Greece. Could a single city, howeverliberty-loving and devoted its people, maintain itself against thatengine of war which had humbled mighty Athens and now lorded it over theworld of Greece? This is the question we have to answer; how in a briefspace the dominion of Sparta was lost, and Thebes, so long insignificantand almost despised, rose to take the foremost place in Greece. 

Two men did this work. As seven men had restored Thebes to freedom, twomen lifted her almost into empire. One of these was Pelopidas, theleading spirit of the seven. The other was Epaminondas, whose name wassimply mentioned in the tale of the patriotic seven, yet who in thecoming years was to prove himself one of the greatest men Greece everproduced. 

Pelopidas belonged to one of the richest and highest families of Thebes. He was one of the youngest of the exiles, yet a man of earnestpatriotism and unbounded daring. It was his ardent spirit that gave lifeto the conspiracy, and his boldness and enterprise that led it forwardto success. And it was the death of Leontiades by his hand that freedThebes. 

Epaminondas was a man of different character and position. Though ofancient and honorable family, he was poor, while Pelopidas was veryrich; middle-aged, while Pelopidas was young; quiet, patient, andthoughtful, while Pelopidas was bold, active, and energetic. In the warsthat followed he was the brain, while Pelopidas was the right hand, ofThebes. Epaminondas had been an earnest student of philosophy and music, and was an adept in gymnastic training. He was a listener, not a talker, yet no Theban equalled him in eloquence in time when speech was needful. He loved knowledge, yet he cared little for power, and nothing formoney, and he remained contentedly poor till the end of his days, notleaving enough wealth to pay his funeral expenses. He did not lovebloodshed, even to gain liberty. He had objected to the conspiracy, since freedom was to be gained through murder. Yet this was the man whowas to save Thebes and degrade her great enemy, Sparta. 

Like Socrates and Alcibiades, these two men were the warmest friends. Their friendship, like that of the two great Athenians, had beencemented in battle. Standing side by side as hoplites (or heavy armedsoldiers), on an embattled field, Pelopidas had fallen wounded, andEpaminondas had saved his life at the greatest danger to himself, receiving several wounds while bearing his helpless friend to a place ofsafety. To the end of their lives they continued intimate friends, eachrecognizing the peculiar powers of the other, and the two working likeone man for Theban independence. 

Epaminondas proved himself a thinker of the highest military genius, Pelopidas a leader of the greatest military vigor. The work of thelatter was largely performed with the Sacred Band, a warlike associationof three hundred youthful Thebans, sworn to defend the citadel untildeath, bound by bonds of warm friendship, and trained into the highestmilitary efficiency. Pelopidas was the captain of this noble band, whichwas never overcome until the fatal battle of Chæronea, and then only bydeath, the Three Hundred lying dead in their ranks as they had stood. 

For the events with which we have now to deal we must leap over sevenyears from the freeing of Thebes. It will suffice to say that for twoyears of that time Sparta fought fiercely against that city, but couldnot bring it under subjection again. Then wars arose elsewhere and drewher armies away. Thebes now took the opportunity to extend her powerover the other cities of Boeotia, and of one of these cities there issomething of interest to tell. 

We have told in an earlier tale how Sparta and Thebes captured Platæaand swept it from the face of the earth. Recently Sparta had rebuilt thecity, recalled its exiled citizens, and placed it as a Spartan outpostagainst Thebes. But now, when the armies of Sparta had withdrawn, theThebans deemed it a good opportunity to conquer it again. One day, whenthe Platæan men were at work in their fields, and unbroken peaceprevailed, a Theban force suddenly took the city by surprise, and forcedthe Platæans to surrender at discretion. Poor Platæa was again levelledwith the ground, her people were once more sent into exile, and her soilwas added to that of Thebes. It may be well to say here that most of theGrecian cities consisted of the walled town and sufficient surroundingland to raise food for the inhabitants within, and that the farmers wentout each morning to cultivate their fields, and returned each nightwithin the shelter of their walls. It was this habit that gave Thebesits treacherous opportunity. 

During the seven years mentioned we hear nothing of Epaminondas, yet weknow that he made himself felt within the walls of Thebes; for when, in371 B. C. , the cities of Greece, satisfied that it was high time to stopcutting each other's throats, held a congress at Sparta to concludepeace, we find him there as the representative of Thebes. 

The terms of peace demanded by Athens, and agreed to by most of thedelegates, were that each city, small or large, should possess autonomy, or self-government. Sparta and Athens were to become mutual guarantees, dividing the headship of Greece between them. As for Thebes and herclaim to the headship of Boeotia, her demand was set aside. 

This conclusion reached, the cities one after another took oath to keepthe terms of peace, each city swearing for itself except Sparta, whichtook the oath for itself and its allies. When it came to the turn ofThebes there was a break in this love-feast. Sparta had sworn for allthe cities of Laconia; Epaminondas, as the representative of Thebes, insisted on swearing not for Thebes alone, but for Thebes as presidentof all Boeotia. He made a vigorous speech, asking why Sparta wasgranted rights from which other leading cities were debarred. 

This was a new question. No Greek had ever asked it openly before. ToSparta it seemed the extreme of insolence and insult. What daringstranger was this who presumed to question her right to absolute controlof Laconia? No speech was made in her defence. Spartans never madespeeches. They prided themselves on their few words and quickdeeds, --_laconic_ utterances, as they have since been called. TheSpartan king sprang indignantly from his seat. 

"Speak plainly, " he scornfully demanded. "Will you, or will you not, leave to each of the Boeotian cities its separate autonomy?"

"Will _you_ leave each of the Laconian towns its separate autonomy?"demanded Epaminondas. 

Not another word was said. Agesilaus, the Spartan king, who was alsopresident of the congress, caused the name of Thebes to be stricken fromthe roll, and proclaimed that city to be excluded from the treaty ofpeace. 

It was a bold move on the part of Epaminondas, for it meant war with allthe power of Sparta, relieved of all other enemies by the peace. Spartahad conquered and humbled Athens. It had conquered many other cities, forcing some of them to throw down their walls and go back again totheir old state of villages. What upstart was this that dared defy itswrath and power? Thebes could hope for no allies, and seemed feebleagainst Spartan strength. How dared, then, this insolent delegate tofling defiance in the teeth of the lord of Greece?

Fortunately Thebes needed no allies. It had two men of warlike genius, Epaminondas and Pelopidas. These were to prove in themselves worth ahost of allies. The citizens were with them. Great as was the danger, the Thebans sustained Epaminondas in his bold action, and made himgeneral of their army. He at once marched to occupy a pass by which itwas expected the Spartans would come. Sparta at that moment had a strongarmy under Cleombrotus, one of its two kings, in Phocis, on the frontierof Boeotia. This was at once ordered to march against defiant Thebes. 

Cleombrotus lost no time, and with a military skill which Spartansrarely showed he evaded the pass which Epaminondas held, followed anarrow mountain-track, captured Creusis, the port of Thebes, with twelvewar-ships in the harbor, and then marched to a place called Leuctra, within an easy march of Thebes, yet which left open communication withSparta by sea, by means of the captured port. 

The Thebans had been outgeneralled, and were dismayed by the result. TheSpartans and their king were full of confidence and joy. All theeloquence of Epaminondas and the boldness of Pelopidas were needed tokeep the courage of their countrymen alive and induce them to marchagainst their foes. And it was with much more of despair than of hopethat they took up at length a position on the hilly ground opposite theSpartan camp. 

The two armies were not long in coming to blows. The Spartans and theirallies much exceeded the Thebans in numbers. But Epaminondas prepared tomake the most of his small force by drawing it up in a new array, neverbefore seen in Greece. 

Instead of forming the narrow line of battle always before the rule inGreek armies, he placed in front of his left wing Pelopidas and theSacred Band, and behind them arranged a mass of men fifty shields deep, a prodigious depth for a Grecian host. The centre and right were drawnup in the usual thin lines, but were kept back on the defensive, so thatthe deep column might join battle first. 

Thus arrayed, the army of Thebes marched to meet its foe, in the valleybetween the two declivities on which the hostile camps were placed. Thecavalry met first, and the Theban horsemen soon put the Spartan troop toflight. Then the footmen came together with a terrible shock. Pelopidasand his Sacred Band, and behind them the weight of the fifty shields, proved more than the Spartans, with all their courage and discipline, could endure. Both sides fought bravely, hand to hand; but soonCleombrotus fell, mortally hurt, and was with difficulty carried offalive. Around him fell others of the Spartan leaders. The resistance wasobstinate, the slaughter terrible; but at last the Spartan right wing, overborne by the heavy Theban mass and utterly beaten, was driven backto its camp on the hill-side above. Meanwhile the left wing, made up ofallies, did little fighting, and quickly followed the Spartans back tothe camp. 

It was a crushing defeat. Of seven hundred Spartans who had marched inconfidence from the camp, only three hundred returned thither in dismay. A thousand and more Lacedæmonians besides were left dead upon the field. Not since the day of Thermopylæ had Sparta lost a king in battle. Theloss of the Theban army was not more than three hundred men. Only twentydays had elapsed since Epaminondas left Sparta, spurned by the scorn ofone of her kings; and now he stood victor over Sparta at Leuctra, withher second king dead in his camp of refuge. It is not surprising that toGreece, which had felt sure of the speedy overthrow of Thebes, thesetidings came like a thunderbolt. Sparta on land had been thoughtirresistible. But here on equal ground, and with nearly double force, she had been beaten by insignificant Thebes. 

We must hasten to the end of this campaign. Sparta, wrought todesperation by her defeat, sent all the men she could spare inreinforcement. Thebes, too, sought allies, and found a powerful one inJason of Pheræ, a city of Thessaly. The Theban leaders, flushed withvictory, were eager to attack the enemy in his camp, but Jason gave themwiser advice. 

"Be content, " he said, "with the great victory you have gained. Do notrisk its loss by attacking the Lacedæmonians driven to despair in theircamp. You yourselves were in despair a few days ago. Remember that thegods take pleasure in bringing about sudden changes of fortune. "

This advice taken, Jason offered the enemy the opportunity to retreat insafety from their dangerous position. This they gladly accepted, andmarched in haste away. On their journey home they met a second armycoming to their relief. This was no longer needed, and the whole baffledforce returned home. 

The military prestige held by Sparta met with a serious blow from thissignal defeat. The prestige of Thebes suddenly rose into supremacy, andher control of Boeotia became complete. But the humiliation of Spartawas not yet near its end. Epaminondas was not the man to do things byhalves. In November of 370 B. C. He marched an army into Arcadia (acountry adjoining Laconia on the north), probably the largest hostileforce that had ever been seen in the Peloponnesus. With its Arcadian andother allies it amounted to forty thousand, or, as some say, to seventythousand, men, and among these the Thebans formed a body of splendidlydrilled and disciplined troops, not surpassed by those of Spartaherself. The enthusiasm arising from victory, the ardor of Pelopidas, and the military genius of Epaminondas had made a wonderful change inthe hoplites of Thebes in a year's time. 

And now a new event in the history of the Spartan commonwealth was seen. For centuries the Spartans had done their fighting abroad, marching atwill through all parts of Greece. They were now obliged to fight ontheir own soil, in defence of their own hearths and homes. Dividing hisarmy into four portions, Epaminondas marched into rock-bounded Laconiaby four passes. 

The Arcadians had often felt the hard hand of their warlike neighbors. Only a snort time before one of their principal cities, Mantinea, hadbeen robbed of its walls and converted into open villages. Since thebattle of Leuctra the villagers had rebuilt their walls and defied aSpartan army. Now the Arcadians proved even more daring than theThebans. They met a Spartan force and annihilated it. 

Into the country of Laconia pushed the invaders. The city of Sellasiawas taken and burned. The river Eurotas was forded. Sparta lay beforeEpaminondas and his men. 

It lay before them without a wall or tower. Through its whole history noforeign army had come so near it. It trusted for defence not to walls, but to Spartan hearts and hands. Yet now consternation reigned. Spartathe inviolate, Sparta the unassailable, was in imminent peril ofsuffering the same fate it had often meted out freely to its foes. 

But the Spartans had not been idle. Allies had sent aid in all haste tothe city. Even six thousand of the Helots were armed as hoplites, thoughto see such a body of their slaves in heavy armor alarmed the Spartansalmost as much as to behold their foes so near at hand. In fact, many ofthe Helots and country people joined the Theban army, while othersrefused to come to the aid of the imperilled city. 

Epaminondas marched on until he was in sight of the city. He did notattempt to storm it. Though without walls, Sparta had strong naturaldefences, and heaps of earth and stones had been hastily thrown up onthe most open roads. A strong army had been gathered. The Spartans wouldfight to death for their homes. To attack them in their strongholdmight be to lose all that had been gained. Repulse here would be ruin. Content with having faced the lion in his den, Epaminondas turned andmarched down the Eurotas, his army wasting, plundering, and burning asit went, while the Spartans, though in an agony of shame and woundedhonor, were held back by their king from the peril of meeting theirenemy in the field. 

In the end, his supplies growing scarce, his soldiers loaded withplunder, Epaminondas led his army back to Arcadia, having accomplishedfar more than any foe of Sparta had ever done before, and destroyed thewarlike reputation of Sparta throughout Greece. 

But the great Theban did not end here. He had two other importantobjects in view. One was to consolidate the Arcadians by building them agreat central city, to be called Megalopolis (Great City), and inhabitedby people from all parts of the state. This was done, thick and loftywalls, more than five miles and a half in circumference, being builtround the new stronghold. 

His other purpose was to restore the country of Messenia. We havealready told how this country had been conquered by the Spartanscenturies before, and its people exiled or enslaved. Their descendantswere now to regain their liberty and their homes. A new city, to benamed Messenia, was ordered by Epaminondas to be built, and this, at therequest of the Messenians, was erected on Mount Ithome, where thegallant hero Aristomenes had made his last stand against his country'sinvaders. 

The city was built, the walls rising to the music of Argeian andBoeotian flutes. The best architects and masons of Greece were invitedto lay out the plans of streets and houses and of the sacred edifices. The walls were made so strong and solid that they became the admirationof after-ages. The surrounding people, who had been slaves of Sparta, were made freemen and citizens of the reorganized state. A wide area ofland was taken from Laconia and given to the new communities whichEpaminondas had formed. Then, in triumph, he marched back to Thebes, having utterly destroyed the power and prestige of Sparta in Greece. 

Reaching home, he was put on trial by certain enemies. He had broken thelaw by keeping command of the army four months beyond the allotted time. He appealed to the people, with what result we can readily understand. He was acquitted by acclamation, and he and Pelopidas were immediatelyre-elected Boeotarchs (or generals) for the coming year. 

_TIMOLEON, THE FAVORITE OF FORTUNE. _

In the city of Corinth dwelt two brothers; one of whom, named Timoleon, was distinguished alike for his courage, gentleness, patriotism, lack ofambition, and hatred of despots and traitors; the other, namedTimophanes, was noted for bravery and enterprise, but also forunprincipled ambition and lack of patriotism. Timophanes, being avaliant soldier, had gained high rank in the army of Corinth. Timoleonloved his unworthy brother and sought to screen his faults. He did more:he saved his life at frightful peril to himself. During a battle betweenthe army of Corinth and that of some neighboring state, Timophanes, whocommanded the cavalry, was thrown from his wounded horse very near tothe enemy. The cavalry fled, leaving him to what seemed certain death. But Timoleon, who was serving with the infantry, rushed from the ranksand covered his brother with his shield just as the enemy were about topierce him. They turned in numbers on the defender, with spears anddarts, but he warded off their blows, and protected his fallen brotherat the cost of several wounds to himself, until others rushed to therescue and drove back the foe. 

The whole city was full of admiration of Timoleon for this act ofdevotion. Timophanes also was raised in public estimation through hisbrother's deed, and was placed in an important post. Corinth wasgoverned by an aristocracy, who, just then, brought in a garrison offour hundred foreign soldiers and placed them in the citadel. Timophaneswas given command of this garrison and control of the stronghold. 

The governors of the city did not know their man. Here was anopportunity for the unlimited ambition of the new commander. Gainingsome armed partisans among the poorer citizens, and availing himself ofthe control of fort and garrison, Timophanes soon made himself master ofthe city, and seized and put to death all who opposed him among thechief citizens. Unwittingly the Corinthian aristocrats had put overthemselves a cruel despot. 

But they found also a defender. The crimes of his brother at firstfilled Timoleon with shame and sorrow. He went to the citadel and beggedTimophanes, by all he held sacred, to renounce his ambitious projects. The new despot repelled his appeal with contempt. Timoleon went again, this time with three friends, but with no better effect. Timophaneslaughed them to scorn, and as they continued their pleading he grewangry and refused to hear more. Then the three friends drew their swordsand killed the tyrant on the spot, while Timoleon stood aside, with hisface hidden and his eyes bathed in tears. 

He who had saved his brother's life at the risk of his own had nowconsented to his death to save his country. But personally, although allCorinth warmly applauded his patriotic act, he was thrown into the mostviolent grief and remorse. This was the greater from the fact that hismother viewed his deed with horror and execration, invoked curses on hishead, and refused even to see him despite his earnest supplications. 

The gratitude of the city was overcome in his mind by grief for hisbrother, and he was attacked by the bitterest pangs of remorse. Thekilling of the tyrant he had felt to be a righteous and necessary act. The murder of his brother afflicted him with despair. For a time herefused food, resolving to end his odious life by starvation. Only theprayers of his friends made him change this resolution. Then, like onepursued by the furies, he fled from the city, hid himself in solitude, and kept aloof from the eyes and voices of men. For several years hethus dwelt in self-afflicting solitude, and when at length time reducedhis grief and he returned to the city, he shunned all prominentpositions, and lived in humility and retirement. Thus time went on untiltwenty years had passed, Timoleon still, in spite of the affection andsympathy of his fellow-citizens, refusing any office or place ofauthority. 

But now an event occurred which was to make this grieving patriot famousthrough all time, as the favored of the gods and one of the noblest ofmen, --the Washington of the far past. To tell how this came about wemust go back some distance in time. Corinth, though it played no leadingpart in the wars of Greece, like Athens, Sparta, and Thebes, was stilla city of much importance, its situation on the isthmus between thePeloponnesus and northern Greece being excellent for commerce andmaritime enterprise. Many years before it had sent out a colony whichfounded the city of Syracuse, in Sicily. It was in aid of this city ofSyracuse that Timoleon was called upon to act. 

We have already told how Athens sought to capture this city and ruinedherself in the enterprise. After that time of triumph Syracuse passedthrough several decades of terror and woe. Tyrants set their feet on herfair neck, and almost crushed her into the earth. One of these, Dionysius by name, had made his power felt by far-off Greece and nearerCarthage, and for years ruled over Sicily with a rod of iron. Hissuccessor, Dion, a friend and pupil of the philosopher Plato, became anoppressor when he came into power. Then another Dionysius gained thethrone, a cowardly and drunken wretch, who repeated the acts of histyrannical father. 

Such was the state of affairs in Sicily when Timoleon was dwellingquietly at home in Corinth, a man of fifty, with no ambitious thoughtand no ruling desire except to reach the end of his sorrow-laden life. So odious now had the tyranny of Dionysius become that the despairingSyracusans sent a pathetic appeal to Corinth, their mother city, prayingfor aid against this brutal despot and the Carthaginians, who hadinvaded the island of Sicily in force. 

Corinth just then, fortunately, had no war on hand, --a somewhatuncommon condition for a Greek city at that day. The citizens voted atonce to send the aid asked for. But who should be the leader? There weredanger and difficulty in the enterprise, with little hope for profit, and none of the Corinthian generals or politicians seemed eager to leadthis forlorn hope. The archons called out their names one by one, buteach in succession declined. The archons had come nearly to their wits'end whom to choose, when from an unknown voice in the assembly came thename "Timoleon. " The archons seized eagerly on the suggestion, hastilychose Timoleon for the post which all the leading men declined, and theassembly adjourned. 

Timoleon, who sadly needed some active exertion to relieve him from theweight of eating thought, accepted the thankless enterprise, heedlessprobably of the result. He at once began to gather ships and soldiers. But he found the Corinthians more ready to select a commander than toprovide him with means and men. Little money was forthcoming; few menseemed ready to enlist; Timoleon had no great means of his own. In theend he only got together seven triremes and one thousand men, --the mostof them mere mercenaries. Three more ships and two hundred men wereafterwards added. 

And thus, with this small force, Timoleon set out to conquer a city andkingdom on whose conquest Athens, years before, had lavished hundreds ofships and tens of thousands of men in vain. The effort seemed utterlypuerile. Was the handful of Corinthians to succeed where all theimperial power of Athens had failed? Yet the gods fought with Timoleon. 

In truth, from the day he left Corinth, those presages of fortune, onwhich the Greeks so greatly depended, gathered about his path across theseas. The signs and tokens were all favorable. While he was at Delphi, seeking the favor of Apollo, a fillet with wreaths and symbols ofvictory fell from a statue upon his head, and the goddess Persephonetold her priestess in a dream that she was about to sail with Timoleonto Sicily, her favorite island. He took, therefore, a special trireme, sacred to the goddesses Demeter and Persephone, both of whom were toaccompany him. While at sea this sacred trireme was illumined by a lightfrom heaven, while a burning torch on high seemed to guide the fleet toa safe harbor. All these portents filled the adventurers with hope andjoy. 

But Timoleon had himself to depend on as well as the gods. At theItalian port of Rhegium he found Hicetas, the despot of a Sicilian city, who had invited him to Sicily, but was now allied with theCarthaginians. He had there twenty of the war-ships of Carthage, doublethe force of Timoleon. Yet the shrewd Corinthian played with and trickedhim, set him to talking and the people of Rhegium to talking with him, and slipped slyly out of the harbor with his ships while theinterminable talk went on. 

This successful stratagem redoubled the spirit of his followers. Landingat a small town on the Sicilian coast, a new enterprise presenteditself. Forty miles inland lay the town of Adranum, sacred to the godAdranus, a deity worshipped throughout Sicily. There were two parties inAdranum, one of which invited Timoleon, the other Hicetas. The latter atonce started thither, with a force of five thousand men, an army withwhich that of Timoleon seemed too small to cope. But heedless of thisdiscrepancy Timoleon hastened thither, and on arriving near the townperceived that the opposing army had outstripped him in speed. Hicetas, not aware of the approach of a foe, had encamped, and his men weredisarmed and at their suppers. 

The small army of Timoleon, worn out with their long and rapid march, and in sight of an enemy four times their number, were loath to movefarther; but their leader, who knew that his only chance for victory layin a surprise, urged them forward, seized his shield and placed himselfat their head, and led them so suddenly on the foe that the latter, completely surprised, fled in utter panic. Three hundred were killed, six hundred taken, and the rest, abandoning their camp, hastened at allspeed back to Syracuse. 

Again the gods spoke in favor of Timoleon. Just as the battle began thegates of the temple of Adranus burst open, and the god himself appearedwith brandished spear and perspiring face. So said the awe-struckAdranians, and there was no one to contradict their testimony. 

Superstition came here to the adventurer's aid. The report of the god'sdoings did as much as the victory to add to the fame of Timoleon. Reinforcements flocked to his ranks, and several towns sought alliancewith him. He now, with a large and confident army, marched to Syracuse, and defied his foe to meet him in the field. 

Hicetas was master of all Syracuse except the stronghold of Ortygia, which was held by Dionysius, and which Hicetas had blockaded by sea andland. Timoleon had no means of capturing it, and as the enemy would notcome out from behind its walls, he would soon have had to retire had notfortune again helped her favorite son, and this time in an extraordinarymanner. 

As it happened, Dionysius was growing short of provisions, was beginningto despair of holding Ortygia, and was withal a man of indolent anddrunken habits, without a tithe of his father's spirit and energy. Hewas like a fox driven to bay, and having heard of the victory ofTimoleon, it occurred to him that he would be better off in yielding thecity to these Corinthians than losing it to his Sicilian foe. All hewished was the promise of a safe asylum and comfortable maintenance inthe future. He therefore agreed with Timoleon to surrender the city, with the sole proviso that he should be taken safely with his propertyto Corinth and given freedom of residence in that city. This Timoleoninstantly and gladly granted, the city was yielded, and Dionysius passedinto Timoleon's camp with a few companions. 

We can imagine the astonishment of the people of Corinth when a triremecame into their harbor with tidings of the remarkable success of theirtownsman, and bearing as striking evidence the person of the latetyrant of Sicily. Only fifty days had passed since he left their citywith his thousand men, and already he had this extraordinary prize toshow. At once they voted him a reinforcement of two thousand hoplitesand five hundred cavalry, and willingly granted the dethroned king asafe residence in their city. In after years, so report says, Dionysiusopened a school there for teaching boys to read, and instructed thepublic singers in their art. Certainly this was an innocent use to put atyrant to. 

Ortygia contained a garrison of two thousand soldiers and vastquantities of military stores. Timoleon, after taking possession, returned to Adranum, leaving his lieutenant Neon in command. Soonafter--Hicetas having left Syracuse for the purpose of cutting offNeon's source of provisions--a sudden sally was made, the blockadingarmy taken by surprise and driven back with loss, and another largesection of the city was added to Timoleon's gains. 

This success was quickly followed by another. The reinforcement fromCorinth had landed at Thurii, on the east coast of Italy. TheCarthaginian admiral, thinking that they could not easily get away fromthat place, sailed to Ortygia, where he displayed Grecian shields andhad his seamen crowned with wreaths. He fancied that by these signs ofvictory he would frighten the garrison into surrender. But the garrisonwere not so easily scared; and meanwhile the Corinthian troops, tired ofThurii, and not able to get away by sea, had left their ships andmarched rapidly overland to the narrow strait of Messina, thatseparated Italy from Sicily. They found this unguarded, --theCarthaginian ships being away on their mission of alarm to Ortygia. And, by good fortune, several days of stormy weather had been followed by asudden and complete calm, so that the Corinthians were enabled to crossin fishing and other boats and reach Sicily in safety. Thus by a newfavor of fortune Timoleon gained this valuable addition to his smallarmy. 

Timoleon now marched against Syracuse, where fortune once more came tohis aid. For Magon, the Carthaginian admiral, had begun to doubtHicetas. He doubted him the more when he saw the men of Timoleon andthose of Hicetas engaged in fishing for eels together in the marshygrounds between the armies, and seemingly on very friendly terms. Thinking he was betrayed, he put all his troops on board ship and sailedaway for Africa. 

It may well be imagined that Timoleon and his men saw with surprise andjoy this sudden flight of the Carthaginian ships. With shouts ofencouragement they attacked the city on all sides. To theirastonishment, scarcely any defence was made. In fact, the army ofHicetas, many of them Greeks, were largely in favor of Timoleon, whilethe talk of the eel catching soldiers in the marshes had won many moreover. As a result, Timoleon took the great city of Syracuse, on whichthe Athenians had vainly sacrificed hundreds of ships and thousands ofmen, without the loss of a single man, killed or wounded. 

Such a succession of astonishing favors of fortune has rarely been seenin the world's history. The news flew through Sicily, Italy, and Greece, and awakened wonder and admiration everywhere. Only a few months hadpassed since Timoleon left Corinth, and already, with very little loss, he was master of Syracuse and of much of Sicily, and had sent thedreaded Sicilian tyrant to dwell as a common citizen in Corinth. Hisability seemed remarkable, his fortune superhuman, and men believed thatthe gods themselves had taken him under their especial care. 

And now came the temptation of power, to which so many great men havefallen victims. Timoleon had but to say the word and he would be despotof Syracuse. Everybody looked for this as the next move. In Ortygia rosethe massive citadel within which Dionysius had defied revolt ordisaffection. Timoleon had but to establish himself there, and his wordwould be the law throughout Syracuse, if not throughout Sicily. Whatwould he do?

What he proposed to do was quickly shown. He proclaimed that thisstronghold of tyranny should be destroyed, and invited every Syracusanthat loved liberty to come with crowbar and hammer and join in the workof levelling to the ground the home and citadel of Dionysius. Theastounded citizens could scarcely believe their ears. What! destroy thetyrant's stronghold! Set Syracuse free! What manner of man was this?With joyous acclaim they gathered, and heaved and tugged until themassive walls were torn stone from stone, and the vast edifice levelledwith the ground, while the time passed like a holiday, and songs of joyand triumph made their work light. 

The Bastile of Syracuse down, Timoleon ordered that the materials shouldbe used to build courts of justice, --for justice was henceforth toreplace despotism in that tyrant-ridden city. But he had more to do. Solong had oppression and suffering lasted that the city was half desertedand the very market-place turned into a horse pasture. The same was thecase with other cities of Sicily. Even the fields were but halfcultivated. Ruin had swept over that fertile island far and wide. 

Timoleon now sent invitations everywhere, inviting exiles to return andnew colonists to come and people the island. To make them sure that theywould not be oppressed, a new constitution was formed, giving all thepower to the people. The invitation was accepted. From all quarterscolonists came, while ten thousand exiles and others sailed fromCorinth. In the end no fewer than sixty thousand new citizens were addedto Syracuse. 

Meanwhile Timoleon put down the other despots of Sicily and set thecities free. Hicetas, his old enemy, was forced to give up his controlof Leontini, to which he had retired on the loss of Syracuse. But thesnake retained his venom. The Carthaginians were furious at the flightof their fleet. Hicetas stirred them up to another invasion of theliberated island. 

How long they were in preparing for this expedition we do not know, butit was made on a large scale. An army of seventy thousand men landed onthe western corner of the island, brought thither by a fleet of twohundred triremes and one thousand transports. In the army were tenthousand heavy-armed Carthaginians, who carried white shields and woreelaborate breastplates. Among these were many of the rich men ofCarthage, who brought with them costly baggage and rich articles of goldand silver. Twenty-five hundred of them were called the Sacred Band ofCarthage. That great city had rarely before made such a determinedeffort at conquest. 

Timoleon was not idle in the face of this great invasion. But the wholearmy he could muster was but twelve thousand strong, a pitiable total tomeet so powerful a foe. And as he marched to meet the enemy distrust andfear marched in his ranks. Such was the dread that one division of thearmy, one thousand strong, mutinied and deserted, and it needed all hispersonal influence to keep the rest together. 

Yet Timoleon had in him the spirit that commands success. He pushed onwith his disheartened force until near the river Crimesus, beyond whichwas encamped the great army of Carthage. Some mules laden with parsleymet the Corinthians on the road. Parsley was used for the wreaths laidon tombstones. It seemed a fatal omen. But Timoleon, with the quicknessof genius, seized some of it, wove a wreath for his head, and cried, "This is our Corinthian symbol of victory: it is the sacred herb withwhich we decorate the victors at the Isthmian festival. Its comingsignifies success. " With these encouraging words he restored thespirits of the army, and led them on to the top of the hill overlookingthe Crimesus. 

It was a misty May morning. Nothing could be seen; but from the valley aloud noise and clatter arose. The Carthaginians were on the march, andhad begun to cross the stream. Soon the mist rose and the formidablehost was seen. A multitude of war-chariots, each drawn by four horses, had already crossed. The ten thousand native Carthaginians, bearingtheir white shields, were partly across. The main body of the host washastening in disorderly march to the rugged banks of the stream. 

Fortune had favored Timoleon again. If he hoped for success this was themoment to attack. The enemy was divided and in disorder. With cheerywords he bade his men to charge. The cavalry dashed on in front. Seizinga shield, Timoleon sprang to the front and led on his footmen, rousingthem to activity by exultant words and bidding the trumpets to sound. Rushing down the hill and through the line of chariots, the chargingmass poured on the Carthaginian infantry. These fought bravely anddefied the Grecian spears with the strength of their armor. Theassailants had to take to their swords, and try and hew their waythrough the dense ranks of the foe. 

The result was in serious doubt, when once more the gods--as itseemed--came to Timoleon's aid. A violent storm suddenly arose. Darknessshrouded the hill-tops. The wind blew a hurricane. Rain and hail poureddown in torrents, while the clouds flashed with lightning and roaredwith thunder. And all this was on the backs of the Greeks; in the facesof the Carthaginians. They could not hear the orders of their officers. The ground became so muddy that many of them slipped and fell: and oncedown their heavy armor would not let them rise again. The Greeks, drivenforward by the wind, attacked their foes with double energy. At length, blinded by the driving storm, distracted by the furious assault, andfour hundred of their front ranks fallen, the white shield battalionturned and fled. 

But flight was not easy. They met their own troops coming up. The streamhad become suddenly swollen with the rain. In the confused flightnumbers were drowned. The panic spread from rank to rank until the wholehost was in total rout, flying wildly over the hills, leaving their campand baggage to the victors, who pursued and slaughtered them inthousands as they fled. 

Such a complete victory had rarely been won. Ten thousand Carthaginianswere killed and fifteen thousand made prisoners, their war chariots werecaptured, and the spoil found in the camp and on the track of the flyingarmy was prodigiously great. As for the Sacred Band, it was annihilated. The story is told that it was slain to a man. The broken remnants of theflying army hastened to their ships, which they were half afraid toenter, for fear the gods that helped Timoleon would destroy them on theseas. And thus was Sicily freed. 

The thousand deserters who had left Timoleon's army on its march wereordered by him to leave the island at once. They did so, crossed theStrait of Messina, and took possession of a site in southern Italy, where they were attacked by the people and every man of them slain. Asregards the concluding events of our story, it will suffice to say thatTimoleon had other fighting to do, with Carthaginians and despots; buthis wonderful fortune continued throughout, and before long Sicily heldnot an enemy in arms. 

And now came the greatest triumph of the Corinthian victor. One masteralone remained in Sicily, --himself. Despotic power was his had he saidthe word. The people warmly requested him to retain his control. But no;he had come to free them from tyranny, and free they should be. He laiddown at once all his power, gave up the command of the army, and went tolive as a private citizen of Syracuse, without office or power. 

A single dominion yet remained to him, --that of affection. The peopleworshipped him. His voice was law. As he grew older his sight failed, until he became totally blind. Yet still, when any difficult questionarose, the people trusted to their sightless benefactor to tell themwhat to do. On such occasions Timoleon would be brought in his car, drawn by mules across the market-place, and then by attendants into thehall of assembly. Here, still seated in his car, he would listen to thedebate, and in the end give his own opinion, which was usually acceptedby nearly the whole assembly. This done, the car would be drawn outagain amid shouts and cheers, and the blind "father of his country"return to his modest home. 

Such liberty and prosperity as now ruled in Sicily had not for acentury been known, and when, three or four years after the greatvictory of the Crimesus, Timoleon suddenly died, the grief of the peoplewas universal and profound. His funeral obsequies were splendidlycelebrated at the public cost, his body was burned on a vast funeralpile, and as the flames flashed upward a herald proclaimed, --

"The Syracusan people solemnize, at the cost of two hundred minæ, thefuneral of this man, the Corinthian Timoleon, son of Timodemus. Theyhave passed a vote to honor him for all future time with festivalmatches in music, horse and chariot races, and gymnastics; because, after having put down the despots, subdued the foreign enemy, andrecolonized the greatest among the ruined cities, he restored to theSicilian Greeks their constitution and laws. "

And thus died one of the noblest and most successful men the world hasever known. The fratricide of his earlier years was for the good ofmankind, and his whole life was consecrated to the cause of humanliberty, while not a thought of self-aggrandizement seems to have everdisturbed his noble soul. 

_THE SACRED WAR. _

There were two places in Greece which had been set aside assacred, --Platæa, the scene of the final defeat of the Persian invaders, and Delphi, the seat of the great temple of Apollo, in whose oracles allGreece placed faith. We have already seen how little the sacredness ofPlatæa protected it from ruin. We have next to see how the sacredness ofDelphi was condemned, and how all Greece suffered in consequence. 

The temple of Apollo at Delphi had long been held so inviolate that itbecame a rich reservoir of treasures, gathered throughout the centuries. Croesus, the rich king of Lydia, sent thither the overflow of hiswealth, and hundreds of others paid liberally for the promises of thepriestess, until the treasures of Delphi became a by-word in Greece. This vast wealth was felt to be safe. The god would protect his own. Men's voices were deep with awe when they told how the wrath of Apollohad overthrown the Persian robbers who sought to rifle his holy fane. And yet the time came when a horde of bandit Greeks made the templetheir prey and the hand of the god was not lifted in its defence, nordid outraged Greece rise to punish the sacrilegious robbers. This is thetale that we have next to tell, that of the so-called Sacred War, withall it meant to Greece. 

There was a great Greek council, centuries old, called theAmphictyonic. It met twice every year, usually for religious purposes, rarely for political. But in the time we have now reached thisAmphictyonic Council ventured to meddle in politics, and made mischiefof the direst character. Its first political act was to fine Sparta fivehundred talents for seizing the citadel of Thebes in times of peace. Thefine was to be doubled if not paid within a certain time. But as Spartasneered at the fine, and neither paid it nor its double, the action ofthe council proved of little avail. 

[Illustration: BED OF THE RIVER KLADEOS. ]

This was of small importance; it was to the next act of the council thatthe mischief was due. The people of the small state of Phocis, adjoiningDelphi, had been accused of cultivating a part of the Cirrhæan plain, which was consecrated to Apollo. This charge, like the former, wasbrought by Thebes, and the Amphictyonic Council, having fined Sparta, now, under Theban influence, laid a fine on the Phocians so heavy thatit was far beyond their means of payment. But Sparta had not paid; whyshould they? The sentence troubled them little. 

At the next meeting of the council severer measures were taken. Spartawas strong; Phocis weak. It was resolved to seize all its territory andconsecrate it to Apollo. This unjust sentence roused the Phocians. Abold citizen, Philomelus by name, told them that they must now face waror ruin. The district of Delphi had once been theirs, and had been takenfrom them wrongfully. "Let us assert our lost rights and seize thetemple, " he said. "The Thebans want it; let us anticipate them and takeback our own. "

His words took fire. A strong force was raised, the town and temple wereattacked, and both, being practically undefended, were quickly captured. Phocis had regained her own, for Delphi had been taken from her duringan older "Sacred War. "

Philomelus now announced that the temple and its oracles would not bemeddled with. Its treasures would be safe. Visitors would be free tocome and go. He would give any security that Greece required that thewealth of Apollo should be safe and all go on as before. But hefortified the town, and invited mercenary soldiers till he had an armyof five thousand men. As for the priestess of Apollo, from whose lipsthe oracles came, he demanded that she should continue to be inspired asbefore, and should give an oracle in his favor. The priestess refused;whereupon he seized her and sought to drag her to the holy tripod onwhich she was accustomed to sit. The woman, scared by his violence, cried out, "You may do what you choose!"

Philomelus at once proclaimed this as an oracle in his favor, andpublished it widely. And it is interesting to learn that many of thesuperstitious Greeks took his word for it. He certainly took the word ofthe priestess, --for he did what he chose. 

War at once began. Many of the Greek states rose at the call of thecondemned Amphictyonic Council. The Phocians were in imminent peril. They were far from strong enough for the war they had invoked. Mercenarytroops--"soldiers of fortune"--must be hired; and to hire them moneymust be had. The citizens of Delphi had already been taxed; the Phociantreasury was empty; where was money to be obtained?

Philomelus settled this question by _borrowing_, with great reluctance, a sum from the temple treasures, --to be paid back as soon as possible. But as the war went on and more money was needed, he borrowed again andagain, --now without reluctance. And the practice of robbery oncestarted, he not only paid his troops, but enriched his friends andadorned his wife from Apollo's hoarded wealth. 

By this means Philomelus got together an army of ten thousandmen, --reckless, dissolute characters, the impious scum of Greece, for nopious Greek would enlist in such a cause. The war was ferocious. Theallies put their prisoners to death. Philomelus followed their example. This was a losing game, and both sides gave it up. At length Philomelusand his army were caught in an awkward position, the army was dispersed, and he driven to the verge of a precipice, where he must choose betweencaptivity or death. He chose the latter and leaped from the beetlingcrags. 

The Thebans and their allies foolishly believed that with the death ofPhilomelus the war was at an end, and marched for their homes. Onomarchus, another Phocian leader, took the opportunity thus affordedto gather the scattered army together again, seized the temple oncemore, and stood in defiance of all his foes. 

In addition to gold and silver, the treasury contained many gifts inbrass and iron. The precious metals were melted and converted intomoney; of the baser metals arms were made. Onomarchus went farther thanPhilomelus; he not only paid his troops with the treasure, but bribedthe leaders of Grecian states, and thus gained powerful friends. He wassoon successfully at war, drove back his foes, and pressed his conqueststill he had captured Thermopylæ and invaded Thessaly. 

Here the Phocians came into contact with a foe dangerous to themselvesand to all Greece. This foe was the celebrated Philip of Macedonia, afamous soldier who was to play a leading part in the subsequent game. Hehad long been paving the way to the conquest of Greece, and the SacredWar gave him just the opportunity he wanted. 

Macedonia lay north of Greece. Its people were not Greeks, nor likeGreeks in their customs. They lived in the country, not in cities, andhad little or none of the culture of Greece. But they were the stufffrom which good soldiers are made. Hitherto this country had been hardlythought of as an element in the Grecian problem. Its kings were despotswho had been kept busy with their foes at home. But now a king hadarisen of wider views and larger mould. Philip had spent his youth inThebes, where he had learned the art of war under Epaminondas. On comingto the throne he quickly proved himself a great soldier and a keen andcunning politician. By dint of war and trickery he rapidly spread hisdominions until all his home foes were subdued, Macedonia was greatlyextended, and Thessaly, the most northern state of Greece, was overrun. 

Therefore the invasion of Thessaly by the Phocians brought them intocontact with the Macedonians. At first Onomarchus was successful. He wontwo battles and drove Philip back to his native state. But another largearmy was quickly in the field, and this time the army of Onomarchus wasutterly beaten and himself slain. As for Philip, although he probablycared not an iota for the Delphian god, he shrewdly professed to be on acrusade against the impious Phocians, and drowned all his prisoners asguilty of sacrilege. 

A third leader, Phayllus by name, now took command of the Phocians, andthe temple of Apollo was rifled still more freely than before. Thesplendid gifts of King Croesus had not yet been touched. They wereheld too precious to be meddled with. But Phayllus did not hesitate toturn these into money. One hundred and seventeen ingots of gold andthree hundred and sixty golden goblets went to the melting-pot, and withthem a golden statue three cubits high and a lion of the same preciousmetal. And what added to the horror of pious Greece was that much of theproceeds of these precious treasures was lavished on favorites. Thenecklaces of Helen and Eriphyle were given to dissolute women, and awoman flute-player received a silver cup and a golden wreath from thetemple hoard. 

All this gave Philip of Macedonia the desired pretence. He marchedagainst the Phocians, who held Thermopylæ, while keeping his Athenianenemies quiet by lies and bribes. The leader of the Phocian garrison, finding that no aid came from the Athenian fleet, surrendered toPhilip, and that astute monarch won what he had long schemed for, thePass of Thermopylæ, the Key of Greece. 

The Sacred War was at an end, and with it virtually the independence ofGreece. Phocis was in the hands of Philip, who professed more than everto be the defender and guardian of Apollo. All the towns in Phocis werebroken up into villages, and the inhabitants were ordered to be finedten talents annually till they had paid back all they had stolen fromthe temple. Philip gave back the temple to the Delphians, and washimself voted into membership in the Amphictyonic assembly in place ofthe discarded Phocians. And all this took place while a treaty of peacetied the hands of the Greeks. The Sacred War had served as a splendidpretext to carry out the ambitious plans of the Macedonian king. 

We have now a long story to tell in a few words. Another people, theLocrians, had also made an invasion on Delphian territory. TheAmphictyonic Council called on Philip to punish them, He at once marchedsouthward, but, instead of meddling with the Locrians, seized andfortified a town in Phocis. At once Athens, full of alarm, declared war, and Philip was as quick to declare war in return. Both sides sought thesupport of Thebes, and Athens gained it. In August, 338 B. C. , theGrecian and Macedonian armies met and fought a decisive battle nearChæronea, a Boeotian town. In this great contest Alexander the Greattook part. 

It was a hotly-contested fight, but in the end Philip triumphed, andGreece was lost. Thebes was forced to yield. Athens, to regain theprisoners held by Philip, acknowledged him to be the head of Greece. Allthe other states did the same except Sparta, which defied him. Heravaged Laconia, but left the city untouched. 

Two years afterwards Philip, lord and master of Greece, was assassinatedat the marriage feast of his daughter. His son Alexander succeeded him. Here seemed an opportunity for Greece to regain her freedom. Thisuntried young man could surely not retain what his able father had won. Demosthenes, the celebrated orator, stirred up Athens to revolt. Thebessprang to arms and attacked the Macedonian garrison in the citadel. 

They did not know the man with whom they had to deal. Alexander cameupon Thebes like an avalanche, took it by assault, and sold into slaveryall the inhabitants not slain in the assault. The city was razed to theground. This terrible example dismayed the rest of Greece. Submission--with the exception of that of Sparta--was universal. Theindependence of Greece was at an end. More than two thousand years wereto pass before that country would again be free. 

_ALEXANDER THE GREAT AND DARIUS. _

In the citadel of Gordium, an ancient town of Phrygia in Asia Minor, waspreserved an old wagon, rudely built, and very primitive in structure. Tradition said that it had originally belonged to the peasant Gordiusand his son Midas, rustic chiefs who had been selected by the gods andchosen by the people as the primitive kings of Phrygia. The cord whichattached the yoke of this wagon to the pole, composed of fibres from thebark of the cornel tree, was tied into a knot so twisted and entangledthat it seemed as if the fingers of the gods themselves must have tiedit, so intricate was it and so impossible, seemingly, to untie. 

An oracle had declared that the man who should untie this famous knotwould become lord and monarch of all Asia. As may well be imagined, manyambitious men sought to perform the task, but all in vain. The Gordianknot remained tied and Asia unconquered in the year 333 B. C. , whenAlexander of Macedon, who the year before had invaded Asia, and so farhad swept all before him, entered Gordium with his victorious army. Asmay be surmised, it was not long before he sought the citadel to viewthis ancient relic, which contained within itself the promise of what hehad set out to accomplish. Numbers followed him, Phrygians andMacedonians, curious to see if the subtle knot would yield to hisconquering hand, the Macedonians with hope, the Phrygians with doubt. 

While the multitude stood in silent and curious expectation, Alexanderclosely examined the knot, looking in vain for some beginning or end toits complexity. The thing perplexed him. Was he who had never yet failedin any undertaking to be baffled by this piece of rope, this twistedobstacle in the way of success? At length, with that angry impatiencewhich was a leading element in his character, he drew his sword, andwith one vigorous stroke severed the cord in two. 

At once a shout went up. The problem was solved; the knot was severed;the genius of Alexander had led him to the only means. He had made goodhis title to the empire of Asia, and was hailed as predestined conquerorby his admiring followers. That night came a storm of thunder andlightning which confirmed the belief, the superstitious Macedonianstaking it as the testimony of the gods that the oracle was fulfilled. 

Had there been no Gordian knot and no oracle, Alexander would probablyhave become lord of the empire of Asia all the same, and this not onlybecause he was the best general of his time and one of the best generalsof all time, but for two other excellent reasons. One was that hisfather, Philip, had bequeathed to him the best army of the age. TheGreeks had proved, nearly two centuries before, that their militaryorganization and skill were far superior to those of the Persians. During the interval there had been no progress in the army of Persia, while Epaminondas had greatly improved the military art in Greece, andPhilip of Macedon, his pupil, had made of the Macedonian army a fightingmachine such as the world had never before known. This was the armywhich, with still further improvements, Alexander was leading into Asiato meet the multitudinous but poorly armed and disciplined Persian host. 

The second reason was that Alexander, while the best captain of his age, had opposed to him the worst. It was the misfortune of Persia that a newking, Darius Codomannus by name, had just come to the throne, and was toprove himself utterly incapable of leading an army, unless it was tolead it in flight. It was not only Alexander's great ability, but hismarvellous good fortune, which led to his immense success. 

The Persians had had a good general in Asia Minor, --Memnon, a Greek ofthe island of Rhodes. But just at this time this able leader died, andDarius took the command on himself. He could hardly have selected a manfrom his ranks who would not have made a better commander-in-chief. 

Gathering a vast army from his wide-spread dominions, a host six hundredthousand strong, the Persian king marched to meet his foe. He broughtwith him an enormous weight of baggage, there being enough gold andsilver alone to load six hundred mules and three hundred camels; and soconfident was he of success that he also brought his mother, wife, andchildren, and his whole harem, that they might witness his triumph overthe insolent Macedonian. 

Darius took no steps to guard any of the passes of Asia Minor. Whyshould he seek to keep back this foe, who was marching blindly to hisfate? But instead of waiting for Alexander on the plain, where he couldhave made use of his vast force, he marched into the defile of Issus, where there was only a mile and a half of open ground between themountains and the sea, and where his vanguard alone could be broughtinto action. In this defile the two armies met, the fighting part ofeach being, through the folly of the Persian king, not greatly differentin numbers. 

The blunder of Darius was soon made fatal by his abject cowardice. TheMacedonians having made a sudden assault on the Persian left wing, itgave way and fled. Darius, who was in his chariot in the centre, seeinghimself in danger from this flight, suddenly lost his over-confidence, and in a panic of terror turned his chariot and fled with wild hastefrom the field. When he reached ground over which the chariot could notpass, he mounted hastily on horseback, flung from him his bow, shield, and royal mantle, and rode in mortal terror away, not having given asingle order or made the slightest effort to rally his flying troops. 

Darius had been sole commander. His flight left the great army without aleader. Not a man remained who could give a general order. Those who sawhim flying were infected with his terror and turned to flee also. Thevast host in the rear trampled one another down in their wild haste toget beyond the enemy's reach. The Macedonians must have looked on inamazement. The battle--or what ought to have been a battle--was overbefore it had fairly begun. The Persian right wing, in which was a bodyof Greeks, made a hard fight; but these Greeks, on finding that the kinghad fled, marched in good order away. The Persian cavalry, also, foughtbravely until they heard that the king had disappeared, when they alsoturned to fly. Never had so great a host been so quickly routed, and allthrough the cowardice of a man who was better fitted by nature to turn aspit than to command an army. 

[Illustration: THE DEATH OF ALEXANDER THE GREAT. ]

But Alexander was not the man to let his enemy escape unscathed. Hispursuit was vigorous. The slaughter of the fugitives was frightful. Thousands were trodden to death in the narrow and broken pass. The campand the family of Darius were taken, together with a great treasure incoin. The slain in all numbered more than one hundred thousand. 

The panic flight of Darius and his utter lack of ability did more thanlose him a battle: it lost him an empire. Never was there a battle withmore complete and great results. During the next two years Alexanderwent to work to conquer western Persia. Most of the cities yielded tohim. Tyre resisted, and was taken and destroyed. Gaza, another strongcity, was captured and its defenders slain. These two cities, which ittook nine months to capture, gave Alexander the hardest fighting heever had. He marched from Gaza to Egypt, which fell without resistanceinto his hands, and where he built the great city of Alexandria, theonly existing memento of his name and deeds. Thence he marched to theEuphrates, wondering where Darius was and what he meant to do. Nearlytwo years had passed since the battle of Issus, and the kingly poltroonhad apparently contented himself with writing letters begging Alexanderto restore his family. But Alexander knew too well what a treasure heheld to consent. If Darius would acknowledge him as his lord and masterhe could have back his wife and children, but not otherwise. 

Finding that all this was useless, Darius began to collect another army. He now got together a vaster host than before. It was said to containone million infantry, forty thousand cavalry, and two hundred chariots, each of which had a projecting pole with a sharp point, while threesword-blades stood out from the yoke on either side, and scythesprojected from the naves of the wheels. Darius probably expected to mowdown the Macedonians in swaths with these formidable implements of war. 

The army which Alexander marched against this mighty host consisted offorty thousand foot and seven thousand horse. It looked like the extremeof foolhardiness, like a pigmy advancing against a giant; yet Dariuscommanded one army, Alexander the other, and Issus had not beenforgotten. 

The affair, in fact, proved but a repetition of that at Issus. Thechariots, on which Darius had counted to break the enemy's line, proveduseless. Some of the horses were killed; others refused to face theMacedonian pikes; some were scared by the noise and turned back; the fewthat reached the Greek lines found the ranks opened to let them pass. 

The chariots thus disposed of, the whole Macedonian line charged. Alexander, at the head of his cavalry, pushed straight for the person ofDarius. He could not get near the king, who was well protected, but hegot near enough to fill his dastard soul with terror. The sight of theserried ranks of the Macedonian phalanx, the terrific noise of theirwar-cries, the failure of the chariots, all combined to destroy his lateconfidence and replace it by dread. As at Issus, he suddenly had hischariot turned round and rushed from the field in full flight. 

His attendants followed. The troops around him, the best in the army, gave way. Soon the field was dense with fugitives. So thick was thecloud of dust raised by the flying multitude that nothing could be seen. Amid the darkness were heard a wild clamor of voices and the noise ofthe whips of the charioteers as they urged their horses to speed. Thecloud of dust alone saved Darius from capture by the pursuing horsemen. The left of the Persian army fought bravely, but at length it too gaveway. Everything was captured, --camp, treasure, the king's equipage, everything but the king himself. How many were killed and taken is notknown, but the army, as an army, ceased to exist. As at Issus, so atArbela, it was so miserably managed that three-fourths of it had nothingwhatever to do with the battle. Its dispersal ended the Persianresistance; the empire was surrendered to Alexander almost withoutanother blow. 

Great a soldier as Alexander unquestionably was, he was remarkablyfavored by fortune, and won the greatest empire the world had up to thattime known with hardly an effort, and with less loss of men than oftentakes place in a single battle. The treasure gained was immense. Dariusseemed to have been heaping up wealth for his conqueror. Babylon andSusa, the two great capitals of the Persian empire, contained vastaccumulations of money, part of which was used to enrich the soldiers ofthe victorious army. At Persepolis, the capital of ancient Persia, astill greater treasure was found, amounting to one hundred and twentythousand talents in gold and silver, or about one hundred andtwenty-five million dollars. It took five thousand camels and a host ofmules to transport the treasure away. The cruel conqueror rewarded thePersians for this immense gift, kept through generations for his hands, by burning the city and slaughtering its inhabitants, in revenge, as hedeclared, for the harm which Xerxes had done to Greece a century and ahalf before. 

What followed must be told in a few words. The conqueror did not feelthat his work was finished while Darius remained free. The dethronedking was flying eastward to Bactria. Alexander pursued him with suchspeed that many of his men and animals fell dead on the road. Heovertook him at last, but did not capture him, as the companions of thePersian king killed him and left only his dead body to the victor'shands. 

For years afterwards Alexander was occupied in war, subduing the easternpart of the empire, and marching into India, where he conquered allbefore him. War, incessant war, was all he cared for. No tribe or nationhe met was able to stand against his army. In all his career he nevermet a reverse in the field. He was as daring as Darius had beencowardly, exposed his life freely, and was more than once seriouslywounded, but recovered quickly from his hurts. 

At length, after eleven years of almost incessant war, the conquerorreturned to Babylon, and here, while preparing for new wars in Arabiaand elsewhere, indulged with reckless freedom in that intoxication whichwas his principal form of relaxation from warlike schemes and duties. Asa result he was seized with fever, and in a week's time died, just atthe time he had fixed to set out with army and fleet on another greatcareer of conquest. It was in June, 323 B. C. , in his thirty-third year. He had reigned only twelve years and eight months. 

_THE WORLD'S GREATEST ORATOR. _

During the days of the decline of Athens, the centre of thought toGreece, there roamed about the streets of that city a delicate, sicklylad, so feeble in frame that, at his mother's wish, he kept away fromthe gymnasium, lest the severe exercises there required should do himmore harm than good. His delicate clothing and effeminate habits werederided by his playmates, who nicknamed him Batalus, after, we are told, a spindle-shanked flute-player. We do not know, however, just whatBatalus means. 

As the boy was not fit for vigorous exercise, and never likely to make ahardy soldier or sailor, it became a question for what he was bestfitted. If the body could not be exercised, the mind might be. At thattime Athens had its famous schools of philosophy and rhetoric, and theart of oratory was diligently cultivated. It is interesting to know thatoutside of Athens Greece produced no orators, if we except Epaminondasof Thebes. The Boeotians, who dwelt north of Attica, were looked uponas dull-brained and thick-witted. The Spartans prided themselves ontheir few words and hard blows. 

The Athenians, on the contrary, were enthusiastically fond of oratory, and ardently cultivated fluency of speech. It was by this art thatThemistocles kept the fleet together for the great battle of Salamis. Itwas by this art that Pericles so long held control of Athens. Thesophists, the philosophers, the leaders of the assembly, were all adeptsin the art of convincing by eloquence and argument, and oratoryprogressed until, in the later days of Grecian freedom, Athens possesseda group of public speakers who have never been surpassed, if equalled, in the history of the world. 

It was the orators who particularly attracted the weakly lad, whose mindwas as active as his body was feeble. He studied grammar and rhetoric, as did the sons of wealthy Athenians in general. And while still a mereboy he begged his tutors to take him to hear Callistratus, an ablepublic speaker, who was to deliver an oration on some weighty politicalsubject. The speech, delivered with all the eloquence of manner andlogic of thought which marked the leading orators of that day, deeplyimpressed the susceptible mind of the eager lad, who went away doubtlessdetermining in his own mind that he would one day, too, move the worldwith eloquent and convincing speech. 

As he grew older there arose a special reason why he should become ableto speak for himself. His father, who was also named Demosthenes, hadbeen a rich man. He was a manufacturer of swords or knives, in which heemployed thirty-two slaves; and also had a couch or bed factory, employing twenty more. His mother was the daughter of a richcorn-dealer of the Bosphorus. 

The father died when his son was seven years old, leaving his estate inthe care of three guardians. These were rich men, and relatives andfriends, whom he thought he could safely trust; the more so as he leftthem legacies in his will. Yet they proved rogues, and when Demosthenesbecame sixteen years of age--which made him a man under the civil law ofAthens--he found that the guardians had made way with nearly the wholeof his estate. Of fourteen talents bequeathed him there were less thantwo left. The boy complained and remonstrated in vain. The guardiansdeclared that the will was lost; their accounts were plainly fraudulent;they evidently proposed to rob their ward of his patrimony. 

This may seem to us to have been a great misfortune. It was, on thecontrary, the greatest good fortune. It forced Demosthenes to become anorator. Though he never recovered his estate, he gained a fame that wasof infinitely greater value. The law of Athens required that everyplaintiff should plead his own cause, either in person or by a deputyspeaking his words. Demosthenes felt that he must bring suit or consentto be robbed. That art of oratory, towards which he had so strong aninclination, now became doubly important. He must learn how to pleadeloquently before the courts, or remain the poor victim of a party ofrogues. This determined the young student of rhetoric. He would makehimself an orator. 

He at once began an energetic course of study. There were then twofamous teachers of oratory in Athens, Isocrates and Isæus. The school ofIsocrates was famous, and his prices very high. The young man, with whommoney was scarce, offered him a fifth of his price for a fifth of hiscourse, but Isocrates replied that his art, like a good fish, must besold entire. He then turned to Isæus, who was the greatest legal pleaderof the period, and studied under him until he felt competent to pleadhis own case before the courts. 

Demosthenes soon found that he had mistaken his powers. His argument wasformal and long-winded. His uncouth style roused the ridicule of hishearers. His voice was weak, his breath short, his manner disconnected, his utterance confused. His pronunciation was stammering andineffective, and in the end he withdrew from the court, hopeless anddisheartened. 

Fortunately, his feeble effort had been heard by a friend who was adistinguished actor, and was able to tell Demosthenes what he lacked. "You must study the art of graceful gesture and clear and distinctutterance, " he said. In illustration, he asked the would-be orator tospeak some passages from the poets Sophocles and Euripides, and thenrecited them himself, to show how they should be spoken. He succeeded inthis way in arousing the boy to new and greater efforts. Nature, Demosthenes felt, had not meant him for an orator. But art can sometimesovercome nature. Energy, perseverance, determination, were necessary. These he had. He went earnestly to work; and the story of how he workedand what he achieved should be a lesson for all future students of artor science. 

There were two things to do. He must both write well and speak well. Delivery is only half the art. Something worth delivering is equallynecessary. He read the works of Thucydides, the great historian, socarefully that he was able to write them all out from memory after anaccident had destroyed the manuscript. Some say he wrote them out eightseparate times. He attended the teachings of Plato, the celebratedphilosopher. The repulse of Isocrates did not keep the ardent studentfrom his classes. His naturally capable mind became filled with all thatGreece had to give in the line of logical and rhetorical thought. He notonly read but wrote. He prepared orations for delivery in the law courtsfor the use of others, and in this way eked out his small income. 

In these ways he cultivated his mind. That was the lightest task. He hada great mind to begin with. But he had a weak and incapable body. If hewould succeed that must be cultivated too. There was his lisping andstammering voice, his short breath, his low tones, his ungracefulgesture, --all to be overcome. How he did it is a remarkable example ofwhat may be done in self-education. 

To overcome his stammering utterance he accustomed himself to speak withpebbles in his mouth. His lack of vocal strength he overcame by runningwith open mouth, thus expanding his lungs. To cure his shortness ofbreath he practised the uttering of long sentences while walkingrapidly up-hill. That he might be able to make himself heard above thenoise of the assembly, he would stand in stormy weather on the sea-shoreat Phalerum, and declaim against the roar of the waves. For two or threemonths together he practised writing and speaking, day and night, in anunderground chamber; and that he might not be tempted to go abroad andneglect his studies he shaved the hair from one side of his head. Dreadof ridicule kept him in till his hair had grown again. To gain agraceful action, he would practise for hours before a tall mirror, watching all his movements, and constantly seeking to improve them. 

Several years passed away in this hard and persistent labor. He triedpublic speaking again and again, each time discouraged, but each timeimproving, --and finally gained complete success. His voice became strongand clear, his manner graceful, his delivery emphatic and decisive, thelanguage of his orations full of clear logic, strong statement, cuttingirony, and vigorous declamation, fluent, earnest, and convincing. Inbrief, it may be said that he made himself the greatest orator ofGreece, which is equal to saying the greatest orator of the world. 

It was not only in delivery that he was great. His speeches were asconvincing when read as when spoken. Fortunately, the great orators ofthose days prepared their speeches very carefully before delivery, andso it is that some of the best of the speeches of Demosthenes have comedown to us and can be read by ourselves. The voice of the whole worldpronounces these orations admirable, and they have been studied by everygreat orator since that day. 

Demosthenes had a great theme for his orations. He entered public lifeat a critical period. The states of Greece had become miserably weak anddivided by their jealousies and intrigues. Philip of Macedon, thecraftiest and ablest leader of his time, was seeking to make Greece hisprey, and using gold, artifice, and violence alike to enable him tosucceed in this design. Against this man Demosthenes raised his voice, thundering his unequalled denunciations before the assembly of Athens, and doing his utmost to rouse the people to the defence of theirliberties. Philip had as his advocate an orator only second toDemosthenes in power, Æschines by name, whom he had secretly bribed, andwho opposed his great rival by every means in his power. For years thestrife of oratory and diplomacy went on. Demosthenes, with remarkableclearness of vision, saw the meaning of every movement of the cunningMacedonian, and warned the Athenians in orations that should have movedany liberty-loving people to instant and decisive action. But he talkedto a weak audience. Athens had lost its old energy and public virtue. Itcould still listen with lapsed breath to the earnest appeals of theorator, but had grown slow and vacillating in action. Æschines had astrong party at his back, and Athens procrastinated until it was toolate and the liberties of ancient Greece fell, never to rise again, onthe fatal field of Chæronea. 

"If Philip is the friend of Greece we are doing wrong, " Demosthenes hadcried. "If he is the enemy of Greece we are doing right. Which is he? Ihold him to be our enemy, because everything he has hitherto done hasbenefited him and hurt us. "

The fall of Greece before the sword of its foe taught the Athenians thattheir orator was right. They at length learned to esteem Demosthenes athis full worth, and Ctesiphon, a leading Athenian, proposed that heshould receive a golden crown from the state, and that his extraordinarymerit and patriotism should be proclaimed in the theatre at the greatfestival of Dionysus. 

Æschines declared that this was unconstitutional, and that he wouldbring action against Ctesiphon for breaking the laws. For six years thecase remained untried, and then Æschines was forced to bring his suit. He did so in a powerful speech, in which he made a bitter attack on thewhole public life of Demosthenes. When he ceased, Demosthenes rose, andin a speech which is looked upon as the most splendid master-piece oforatory ever produced, completely overwhelmed his life long opponent, who left Athens in disgust. The golden crown, which Demosthenes had sonobly won, was his, and was doubly deserved by the immortal oration towhich it gave birth, the grand burst of eloquence "For the Crown. "

In 323 B. C. Alexander the Great died. Then like a trumpet rang out thevoice of Demosthenes, calling Greece to arms. Greece obeyed him androse. If she would be free, now or never was the time. The war known asthe Lamian war began. It ended disastrously in August, 322, and Greecewas again a Macedonian slave. Demosthenes and others of the patriotswere condemned to death as traitors. They fled for their lives. Demosthenes sought the island of Calauri, where he took refuge in atemple sacred to Poseidon, or Neptune. Thither his foes, led by Archias, formerly a tragic actor, followed him. 

Archias was not the man to hesitate about sacrilege. But the temple inwhich Demosthenes had taken refuge was so ancient and venerable thateven he hesitated, and begged him to come out, saying that there was nodoubt that he would be pardoned. 

Demosthenes sat in silence, his eyes fixed on the ground. At length, asArchias continued his appeals, in his most persuasive accents, theorator looked up and said, ----

"Archias, you never moved me by your acting. You will not move me now byyour promises. "

At this Archias lost his temper, and broke into threats. 

"Now you speak like a real Macedonian oracle, " said Demosthenes, calmly. "Before you were acting. Wait a moment, then, till I write to myfriends. "

With these words Demosthenes rose and walked back to the inner part ofthe temple, though he was still visible from the front. Here he took outa roll of paper and a quill pen, which he put in his mouth and bit, ashe was in the habit of doing when composing. Then he threw his head backand drew his cloak over it. 

The Thracian soldiers, who followed Archias, began to gibe at hiscowardice on seeing this movement. Archias went in, renewed hispersuasions, and begged him to rise, as there was no doubt that he wouldbe well treated. Demosthenes sat in silence until he felt in his veinsthe working of the poison he had sucked from the pen. Then he drew thecloak from his face and looked at Archias with steady eyes. 

"Now, " he said, "you can play the part of Creon in the tragedy as soonas you like, and cast forth my body unburied. But I, O graciousPoseidon, quit thy temple while I yet live. Antipater and hisMacedonians have done what they could to pollute it. "

He walked towards the door, calling on those surrounding to support hissteps, which tottered with weakness. He had just passed the altar of thegod, when, with a groan, he fell, and died in the presence of his foes. 

So died, when sixty-two years of age, the greatest orator, and one ofthe greatest patriots and statesmen, of ancient times, --a man whose fameas an orator is as great as that of Homer as a poet, while in foresight, judgment, and political skill he had not his equal in the Greece of hisday. Had Athens possessed any of its old vitality he would certainlyhave awakened it to a new career of glory. As it was, even one as greatas he was unable to give new life to that corpse of a nation which hiscountry had become. 

_THE OLYMPIC GAMES. _

The recent activity of athletic sports in this country is in a largesense a regrowth from the ancient devotion to out-door exercises. Inthis direction Greece, as also in its republican institutions, served asa model for the United States. The close relations between the athleticsof ancient and modern times was gracefully called to attention by thereproduction of the Olympic Games at Athens in 1896, for which purposethe long abandoned and ruined Stadion, or foot-race course, of that citywas restored, and races and other athletic events were conducted on theground made classic by the Athenian athletes, and within a marble-seatedamphitheatre in which the plaudits of Athens in its days of glory mightin fancy still be heard. 

These modern games, however, differ in character from those of the past, and are attended with none of the deeply religious sentiment whichattached to the latter. The games of ancient Greece were national incharacter, were looked upon as occasions of the highest importance, andwere invested with a solemnity largely due to their ancient institutionand long-continued observance. Their purpose was not alone friendlyrivalry, as in modern times, but was largely that of preparation forwar, bodily activity and endurance being highly essential in the handto hand conflicts of the ancient world. They were designed to cultivatecourage and create a martial spirit, to promote contempt for pain andfearlessness in danger, to develop patriotism and public spirit, and inevery way to prepare the contestants for the wars which were, unhappily, far too common in ancient Greece. 

[Illustration: THE MODERN OLYMPIC GAMES IN THE STADIUM. ]

Each city had its costly edifices devoted to this purpose. The Stadionat Athens, within whose restored walls the modern games took place, wasabout six hundred and fifty feet long and one hundred and twenty-fivewide, the race-course itself being six hundred Greek feet--a trifleshorter than English feet--in length. Other cities were similarlyprovided, and gymnastic exercises were absolute requirements of theyouth of Greece, --particularly so in the case of Sparta, in which cityathletic exercises formed almost the sole occupation of the malepopulation. 

But the Olympic Games meant more than this. They were not national, butinternational festivals, at whose celebration gathered multitudes fromall the countries of Greece, those who desired being free to come to anddepart from Olympia, however fiercely war might be raging between theleading nations of the land. When the Olympic Games began is not known. Their origin lay far back in the shadows of time. Several peoples ofGreece claimed to have instituted such games, but those which in latertimes became famous were held at Olympia, a town of the small country ofElis, in the Peloponnesian peninsula. Here, in the fertile valley ofthe Alpheus, shut in by the Messenian hills and by Mount Cronion, waserected the ancient Stadion, and in its vicinity stood a greatgymnasium, a palæstra (for wrestling and boxing exercises), a hippodrome(for the later chariot races), a council hall, and several temples, notably that of the Olympian Zeus, where the victors received the olivewreaths which were the highly valued prizes for the contests. 

This temple held the famous colossal statue of Zeus, the noblestproduction of Greek art, and looked upon as one of the wonders of theworld. It was the work of Phidias, the greatest of Grecian sculptors, and was a seated statue of gold and ivory, over forty feet in height. The throne of the king of the gods was mostly of ebony and ivory, inlaidwith precious stones, and richly sculptured in relief. In the figure, the flesh was of ivory, the drapery of gold richly adorned with flowersand figures in enamel. The right hand of the god held aloft a figure ofvictory, the left hand rested on a sceptre, on which an eagle wasperched, while an olive wreath crowned the head. On the countenancedwelt a calm and serious majesty which it needed the genius of a Phidiasto produce, and which the visitors to the temple beheld with awe. 

The Olympic festival, whose date of origin, as has been said, isunknown, was revived in the year 884 B. C. , and continued until the year394 A. D. , when it was finally abolished, only to be revived at the cityof Athens fifteen hundred years later. The games were celebrated afterthe completion of every fourth year, this four year period being calledan "Olympiad, " and used as the basis of the chronology of Greece, thefirst Olympiad dating from the revival of the games in 884 B. C. 

These games at first lasted but a single day, but were extended untilthey occupied five days. Of these the first day was devoted tosacrifices, the three following days to the contests, and the last dayto sacrifices, processions, and banquets. For a long period singlefoot-races satisfied the desires of the Eleans and their visitors. Thenthe double foot-race was added. Wrestling and other athletic exerciseswere introduced in the eighth century before Christ. Then followedboxing. This was a brutal and dangerous exercise, the combatants' handsbeing bound with heavy leather thongs which were made more rigid bypieces of metal. The four-horse chariot-race came later; afterwards thepancratium (wrestling and boxing, without the leaded thongs); boys'races and wrestling and boxing matches; foot-races in a full suit ofarmor; and in the fifth century, two-horse chariot-races. Nero, in theyear 68 A. D. , introduced musical contests, and the games were finallyabolished by Theodosius, the Christian emperor, in the year 394 A. D. 

Olympia was not a city or town. It was simply a plain in the district ofPisatis. But it was so surrounded with magnificent temples and otherstructures, so adorned with statues, and so abundantly provided with theedifices necessary to the games, that it in time grew into a locality ofremarkable architectural beauty and grandeur. Here was the sacred groveof Altis, where grew the wild olive which furnished the wreaths for thevictors, a simple olive wreath forming the ordinary prize of victory; inthe four great games the victor was presented with a palm branch, whichhe carried in his right hand. Near this grove was the Hippodrome, wherethe chariot-races took place. The great Stadion stood outside the templeenclosure, where lay the most advantageous stretch of ground. 

The training required for participants in these sacred games was severe. No one was allowed to take part unless he had trained in the gymnasiumfor ten months in advance. No criminal, nor person with any bloodimpurity, could compete, a mere pimple on the body being sufficient torule a man out. In short, only perfect and completely trained specimensof manhood were admitted to the lists, while the fathers and relativesof a contestant were required to swear that they would use no artificeor unfair means to aid their relative to a victory. The greatest carewas also taken to select judges whose character was above even thepossibility of bribery. 

Women were not permitted to appear at the games, and whoever disobeyedthis law was to be thrown from a rock. On certain occasions, however, their presence was permitted, and there were a series of games and racesin which young girls took part. In time it became the custom todiversify the games with dramas, and to exhibit the works of artists, while poets recited their latest odes, and other writers read theirworks. Here Herodotus read his famous history to the vast assemblage. 

Victory in these contests was esteemed the highest of honors. When thevictor was crowned, the heralds loudly proclaimed his name, with thoseof his father and his city or native land. He was also privileged toerect a statue in honor of his triumph at a particular place in thesacred Altis. This was done by many of the richer victors, while thewinners in the chariot-races often had not only their own figures, butthose of their chariots and horses, reproduced in bronze. 

In addition to the Olympic, Greece possessed other games, which, likethe former, were of great popularity, and attracted crowds from allparts of the country. The principal among these were the Pythian, Nemean, and Isthmian games, though there were various others of lessimportance. Of them all, however, the Olympic games were much the oldestand most venerated, and in the laws of Solon every Athenian who won anOlympic prize was given the large reward of five hundred drachmas, whilean Isthmian prize brought but one hundred drachmas. 

On several occasions the Olympic games became occasions of greathistorical interest. One of these was the ninetieth Olympiad, of 420B. C. , which took place during the peace between Athens and Sparta, --inthe Peloponnesian war Athens having been excluded from the two precedingones. It was supposed that the impoverishment of Athens would preventher from appearing with any splendor at this festival, but that cityastonished Greece by her ample show of golden ewers, censers, etc. , inthe sacrifice and procession, while in the chariot-races Alcibiades fardistanced all competitors. One well-equipped chariot and four usuallysatisfied the thirst for display of a rich Greek, but he appeared withno less than seven, while his horses were of so superior power that oneof his chariots won a first, another a second, and another a fourthprize, and he had the honor of being twice crowned with olive. In thebanquet with which he celebrated his triumph he surpassed the richest ofhis competitors by the richness and splendor of the display. 

On the occasion of the one hundred and fourth Olympiad, war existingbetween Arcadia and Elis, a combat took place in the sacred grounditself, an unholy struggle which dishonored the sanctuary of Panhellenicbrotherhood, and caused the great temple of Zeus to be turned into afortress against the assailants. During this war the Arcadians plunderedthe treasures of these holy temples, as those of the temple at Delphiwere plundered at a later date. 

Another occasion of interest in the Olympic games occurred in theninety-ninth Olympiad, when Dionysius, the tyrant of Sicily, sent hislegation to the sacrifice, dressed in the richest garments, abundantlyfurnished with gold and silver plate, and lodged in splendid tents. Several chariots contended for him in the races, while a number oftrained reciters and chorists were sent to exhibit his poeticalcompositions before those who would listen to them. His chariots weremagnificent, his horses of the rarest excellence, the delivery of hispoems eloquently performed; but among those present were many of thesufferers by his tyranny, and the display ended in the plundering ofhis gold and purple tent, and the disgraceful lack of success of hischariots, some of which were overturned and broken to pieces. As for thepoems, they were received with a ridicule which caused the deepesthumiliation and shame to their proud composer. 

[Illustration: THE THEATRE OF BACCHUS, ATHENS. ]

The people of Greece, and particularly those of Athens, did not, however, restrict their public enjoyments to athletic exercises. Abundant provision for intellectual enjoyment was afforded. They werenot readers. Books were beyond the reach of the multitude. But the losswas largely made up to them by the public recitals of poetry andhistory, the speeches of the great orators, and in particular thedramatic performances, which were annually exhibited before all thecitizens of Athens who chose to attend. 

The stage on which these dramas were performed, at first a mereplatform, then a wooden edifice, became finally a splendid theatre, wrought in the sloping side of the Acropolis, and presenting a vastsemicircle of seats, cut into the solid rock, rising tier above tier, and capable of accommodating thirty thousand spectators. At first nocharge was made for admission, and when, later, the crowd became sogreat that a charge had to be made, every citizen of Athens who desiredto attend, and could not afford to pay, was presented from the publictreasury with the price of one of the less desirable seats. 

Annually, at the festivals of Dionysus, or Bacchus, and particularly atthe great Dionysia, held at the of March and beginning of April, greattragic contests were held, lasting for two days, during which theimmense theatre was filled with crowds of eager spectators. A playseldom lasted more than an hour and a half, but three on the samegeneral subject, called a trilogy, were often presented in succession, and were frequently followed by a comic piece from the same poet. Thatthe actors might be heard by the vast open-air audiences, some means ofincreasing the power of the voice was employed, while masks were worn toincrease the apparent size of the head, and thick-soled shoes to add tothe height. 

The chorus was a distinctive feature of these dramas, --tragedies andcomedies alike. As there were never more than three actors upon thestage, the chorus--twelve to fifteen in number--represented othercharacters, and often took part in the action of the play, though theirduty was usually to diversify the movement of the play by hymns anddirges, appropriate dances, and the music of flutes. For centuries thesedramatic representations continued at Athens, and formed the basis ofthose which proved so attractive to Roman audiences, and which in turnbecame the foundation-stones of the modern drama. 

_PYRRHUS AND THE ROMANS. _

Seven years after the death of Alexander, the Macedonian conqueror, there was born in Epirus, a country of Greece, a warrior who might haverivalled Alexander's fortune and fame had he, like him, fought againstPersians. But he had the misfortune to fight against Romans, and hisstory became different. He was the greatest general of his time. Hannibal has said that he was the greatest of any age. But Rome was notPersia, and a Roman army was not to be dealt with like a Persian horde. Had Alexander marched west instead of east, he would probably not havewon the title of "Great. "

Pyrrhus, king of Epirus, claimed descent from Pyrrhus, son of Achilles. While still an infant a rebellion broke out in Epirus. His father wasabsent, and the rebel chiefs sought to kill him, but he was hurried awayin his nurse's arms, and his life saved. When he was ten years old, Glaucius, king of Illyria, who had brought him up among his ownchildren, conquered Epirus and placed him on the throne. Seven yearsafterwards rebellion broke out again, and Pyrrhus had once more to flyfor his life. He now fought in some great battles, married the daughterof the king of Egypt, returned with an army, and again became king ofEpirus. He afterwards conquered all Macedonia, and, like Alexander theGreat, whose fame he envied, looked about him for other worlds toconquer. 

During the years over which our tales have passed a series of foreignpowers had threatened Greece. First, in the days of legend, it had founda foreign enemy in Troy. Next came the great empire of Persia, withwhich it had for centuries to deal. Then rose Macedonia, the firstconqueror of Greece. Meanwhile, in the west, a new enemy had been slowlygrowing in power and thirst for conquest, that of Rome, before whosemighty arm Greece was destined to fall and vanish from view as one ofthe powers of the earth. And the first of the Greeks to come in warlikecontact with the Romans was Pyrrhus. How this came about, and what arosefrom it, we have now to tell. 

Step by step the ambitious Romans had been extending their power overItaly. They were now at war with Tarentum, a city of Greek origin on thesouth Italian coast. The Tarentines, being hard pressed by theirvigorous foes, sent an embassy to Greece, and asked Pyrrhus, then themost famous warrior of the Grecian race, to come to their aid againsttheir enemy. This was in the year 281 B. C. 

Pyrrhus had been for some years at peace, building himself a new capitalcity, which he profusely adorned with pictures and statues. But peacewas not to his taste. Consumed by ambition, restless in temperament, andanxious to make himself a rival in fame of Alexander the Great, he wasready enough to accept this request, and measure his strength in battleagainst the most warlike nation of the West. 

His wise counsellor, Cineas, asked him what he would do next, if heshould overcome the Romans, who were said to be great warriors andconquerors of many peoples. 

"The Romans once overcome, " he said, proudly, "no city, Greek orbarbarian, would dare to oppose me, and I should be master of allItaly. "

"Well, " said Cineas, "if you conquer Italy, what next?"

"Greater victories would follow. There are Libya and Carthage to bewon. "

"And then?" asked Cineas. 

"Then I should be able to master all Greece. "

"And then?" continued the counsellor. 

"Then, " said Pyrrhus, "I would live at ease, eat and drink all day, andenjoy pleasant conversation. "

"And what hinders you from taking your ease now, without all this periland bloodshed?"

Pyrrhus had no answer to this. But thirst for fame drove him on, and thedays of ease never came. 

In the following year Pyrrhus crossed to Italy with an army of abouttwenty-five thousand men, and with a number of elephants, animals whichthe Romans had never seen, and with which he hoped to frighten them fromthe battle-field. He had been promised the aid of all southern Italy, and an army of three hundred and fifty thousand infantry and twentythousand cavalry. In this he was destined to disappointment. He foundthe people of Tarentum given up to frivolous pleasure, enjoying theirtheatres and festivals, and expecting that he would do their fightingwhile they spent their time in amusement. 

They found, however, that they had gained a master instead of a servant. Frivolity was not the idea of war held by Pyrrhus. He at once shut upthe theatre, the gymnasia, and the public walks, stopped all feastingand revelry throughout the city, closed the clubs or brotherhoods, andkept the citizens under arms all day. Some of them, in disgust at thisstern discipline, left the city. Pyrrhus thereupon closed the gates, andwould let none out without permission. He even went so far as to put todeath some of the demagogues, and to send others into exile. By thesemeans he succeeded in making something like soldiers of thepleasure-loving Tarentines. 

Thus passed the winter. Meanwhile, the Romans had been as active astheir enemies. They made the most energetic preparations for war, andwith the opening of the spring were in the field. Pyrrhus, who hadfailed to receive the great army promised him, did not feel strongenough to meet the Roman force. He offered peace and arbitration, buthis offers were scornfully rejected. He then sent spies to the Romancamp. One of these was caught and permitted to observe the whole army onparade. He was then sent back to Pyrrhus, with the message that if hewanted to see the Roman army he had better come himself in open day, instead of sending spies by night. 

The two armies met at length on the banks of the river Siris, whereRome fought its first great battle with a foreign foe. The Romans werethe stronger, but the Greeks had the advantage in arms and discipline. The conflict that followed was very different from the one fought byAlexander at Issus. So courageous and unyielding were the contestantsthat each army seven times drove back its foes. 

"Beware, " said an officer to Pyrrhus, as he charged at the head of hiscavalry, "of that barbarian on the black horse with white feet. He hasmarked you for his prey. "

"What is fated no man can avoid, " said the king, heroically. "Butneither this man nor the stoutest soldier in Italy shall encounter mefor nothing. "

At that instant the Italian rode at him with levelled lance and killedhis horse. But his own was killed at the same instant, and while Pyrrhuswas remounting his daring foe was surrounded and slain. 

On this field, for the first time, the Greek spear encountered the Romansword. The Macedonian phalanx with its long pikes was met by the Romanlegion with its heavy blades. The pike of the phalanx had hithertoconquered the world. The sword of the legion was hereafter to take itsplace. But now neither seemed able to overcome the other. In vain theRomans sought to hew a way with their swords through the forest ofpikes, and as a last resort the Roman general brought up a chosen bodyof cavalry, which he had held in reserve. These came on in fiercecharge, but Pyrrhus met them with a more formidable reserve, --hiselephants. 

On beholding these strange monsters, terrible alike to horse and rider, the Roman cavalry fell back in confusion. The horses could not bebrought to face their huge opponents. Their disorder broke the ranks ofthe infantry. Pyrrhus charged them with his Thessalian cavalry, and theRoman army was soon in total rout, leaving its camp to the mercy of itsfoes. 

During the battle Pyrrhus, knowing that the safety of his army dependedon his own life, exchanged his arms, helmet, and scarlet cloak for thearmor of Megacles, one of his officers. The borrowed splendor provedfatal to Megacles. The Romans made him their mark. Every one struck athim. He was at last struck down and slain, and his helmet and cloak werecarried to Lavinus, the Roman commander, who had them borne in triumphalong his ranks. Pyrrhus, fearing that this mistake might prove fatal, at once threw off his helmet and rode bareheaded along his own line, tolet his soldiers see that he was still alive, and that a scarlet cloakwas not a king. 

The battle over, Pyrrhus surveyed the field, strewn thickly with thedead of both armies, his valiant soul moved to a new respect for hisfoes. 

"If I had such soldiers, " he cried, "I could conquer the world. " Then, noting the numbers of his own dead, he added, "Another such victory, and I must return to Epirus alone. "

He sent Cineas, his wise counsellor, to Rome to offer terms of peace. Nearly four thousand of his army had fallen, and these largely Greeks;the weather was unfavorable for an advance; alliance with these bravefoes might be wiser than war. Many of the Romans, too, thought the same;but while they were debating in the Forum there was borne into thisbuilding the famous censor Appius Claudius, once a leader in Rome, nowtotally blind and in extreme old age. His advent was like that of blindTimoleon to the Syracusan senate. The senators listened in deepestsilence when the old man rose to speak. What he said we do not know, buthis voice was for war, and the senate, moved by his impassioned appeal, voted that there should be no peace with Pyrrhus while he remained inItaly, and ordered Cineas to leave Rome, with this ultimatum, that veryday. 

Peace refused, Pyrrhus advanced against Rome. He marched through aterritory which for years had been free from the ravages of war, and wasin a state of flourishing prosperity. It was plundered by his soldierswithout mercy. On he came until Rome itself lay visible to his eyes froman elevation but eighteen miles away. Another day's march would havebrought him to its walls. But a strong Roman army was in his front;another army hung upon his rear; his own army was weakened bydissensions between the Greeks and Italians; he deemed it prudent toretreat with the plunder he had gained. 

Another winter passed. Pyrrhus had many prisoners, whom he would notexchange or ransom unless the Romans would accept peace. But he treatedthem well, and even allowed them to return to Rome to enjoy the winterholiday of the Saturnalia, on their solemn promise that they wouldreturn if peace was still refused. The senate was still firm for war, and the prisoners returned after the holidays, the sturdy Romans havingpassed an edict that any prisoner who should linger in Rome after theday fixed for the return should suffer death. 

In the following spring another battle was fought near Asculum, on theplains of Apulia. Once more the Roman sword was pitted against theMacedonian pike. The nature of the ground was such that the Romans wereforced to attack their enemy in front, and they hewed in vain with theirswords upon the wall of pikes, which they even grasped with their handsand tried to break. The Greeks kept their line intact, and the Romanswere slaughtered without giving a wound in return. At length they gaveway. Then the elephants charged, and the repulse became a rout. But thistime the Romans fled only to their camp, which was close at hand. Theyhad lost six thousand men. Pyrrhus had lost three thousand five hundredof his light-armed troops. The heavy-armed infantry was almost unharmed. 

Here was another battle that proved almost as bad as a defeat. Pyrrhushad lost many of the men he had brought from Epirus. He was not incondition to take the field again, and no more soldiers could just thenbe had from Greece. The Romans were now willing to make a truce, andPyrrhus crossed soon after to Sicily, to aid the Greeks of that islandagainst their Carthaginian foes, He remained there two years, fightingwith varied success and defeat. Then he returned to Tarentum, whichagain needed his aid against its persistent Roman enemies. 

On his way there Pyrrhus passed through Locri. Here was a famous templeof Proserpine, in whose vaults was a large treasure, which had beenburied for an unknown period, and on which no mortal eye was permittedto gaze. Pyrrhus took bad advice and plundered the temple of the sacredtreasure, placing it on board his ships. A storm arose and wrecked theships, and the stolen treasure was cast back on the Locrian coast. Pyrrhus now ordered it to be restored, and offered sacrifices to appeasethe offended goddess. She gave no signs of accepting them. He then putto death the three men who had advised the sacrilege, but his mindcontinued haunted with dread of divine vengeance. Proserpine, who wasseemingly deeply offended, might bring upon him ruin and defeat, and thehearts of his soldiers were weakened by dread of impending evils. 

Once more Pyrrhus met the Romans in the field, but no longer withsuccess. One of his elephants was wounded, and ran wildly into hisranks, throwing them into disorder. Eight of these animals were driveninto ground from which there was no escape. They were captured by theRomans. As the battle continued one wing of the Roman army was repulsed;but they assailed the elephants with such a shower of light weapons thatthese huge brutes turned and fled through the ranks of the phalanx, throwing it into disorder. On their heels came the Romans. The Greekline once broken, the swords of the Romans gave them a great advantageover the long spears of the enemy. Cut down in numbers, the Greeks werethrown into confusion, and were soon flying in panic, hotly pursued bytheir foes. How many were slain is not known, but the defeat wasdecisive. Retreating to Tarentum, Pyrrhus resolved to leave Italy, disgusted with his failure and with the supineness of his allies, anddisappointed in his ambitious hopes. He reached Epirus again with littlemore than eight thousand troops, and without money enough to maintaineven these. Thus ended the first meeting of Greeks and Romans in war. 

The remainder of the story of Pyrrhus may be soon told. He had countedon living in ease after his wars, but ease was not for him. Hisremaining life was spent in war. He invaded and conquered Macedonia. Heengaged in war against the Spartans, and was repulsed from their capitalcity. At last, in his attack on Argos, while forcing his way through itsstreets, he fell by a woman's hand. A tile was cast from a house on hishead, which hurled him stunned from his horse, and he was killed in thestreet. Thus ignobly perished the greatest general of his age. 

_PHILOPOEMEN AND THE FALL OF SPARTA. _

The history of Greece may well seem remarkable to modern readers, sinceit brings us in contact with conditions which have ceased to existanywhere upon the earth. To gain some idea of its character, we shouldhave to imagine each of the counties of one of our American States to bean independent nation, with its separate government, finances, andhistory, its treaties of peace and declarations of war, and its frequentfierce conflicts with some neighboring county. Each of these countieswould have its central city, surrounded by high walls, and its citizensready at any moment to take arms against some other city and march tobattle against foes of their own race and blood. In some cases a singlecounty would have three or four cities, each hostile to the others, likethe cities of Thebes, Platæa, Thespiæ, and Orchomenos, in Boeotia;standing ready, like fierce dogs each in its separate kennel, to fallupon one another with teeth and claws. It may further be said that ofthe population of these counties five out of every six were slaves, andthat these slaves were white men, most of them of Greek descent. Thegeneral custom in those days was either to slay prisoners in cold blood, or sell them to spend the remainder of their lives in slavery. 

This state of affairs was not confined to Greece. It existed in Italyuntil Rome conquered all its small neighbor states. It existed in Asiauntil the great Babylonian and Persian empires conquered all the smallercommunities. It was the first form of a civilized nation, that of a citysurrounded by enough farming territory to supply its citizens with food, each city ready to break into war with any other, and each race ofpeople viewing all beyond its borders as strangers and barbarians, to bedealt with almost as if they were beasts of prey instead of men andbrothers. 

The cities of Greece were not only thus isolated, but each had itsseparate manners, customs, government, and grade of civilization. Athenswas famous for its intellectual cultivation; Thebes had a reputation forthe heavy-headed dulness of its people; Sparta was a rigid war school, and so on with others. In short, the world has gone so far beyond thepolitical and social conditions of that period that it is by no meanseasy for us to comprehend the Grecian state. 

Among those cities Sparta stood in one sense alone. While the otherswere enclosed in strong walls, Sparta remained open and free, --its onlywall being the valorous hearts and strong arms of its inhabitants. Whileother cities were from time to time captured and occasionally destroyed, no foeman had set foot within Sparta's streets. Not until the days ofEpaminondas was Laconia invaded by a powerful foe; and even then Spartaremained free from the foeman's tread. Neither Philip of Macedon, norhis son Alexander, entered this proud city, and it was not until thetroublous later times that the people of Sparta, feeling that theirancient warlike virtue was gone, built around their city a wall ofdefence. 

But the humiliation of that proud city was at hand. It was to be enteredby a foeman; the laws of Lycurgus, under which it had risen to suchmight, were to come to an end; and lordly Sparta was to sink intoinsignificance, and its glory remain but a memory to man. 

About the year 252 B. C. Was born Philopoemen, the last of the greatgenerals of Greece. He was the son of Craugis, a citizen of Megalopolis, the great city which Epaminondas had built in Arcadia. Here he wasthoroughly educated in philosophy and the other learning of the time;but his natural inclination was towards the life of a soldier, and hemade a thorough study of the use of arms and the management of horses, while sedulously seeking the full development of his bodily powers. Epaminondas was the example he set himself, and he came little behindthat great warrior in activity, sagacity, and integrity, though hediffered from him in being possessed of a hot, contentious temper, whichoften carried him beyond the bounds of judgment. 

Philopoemen was marked by plain manners and a genial disposition, inproof of which Plutarch tells an amusing story. In his later years, whenhe was general of a great Grecian confederation, word was brought to alady of Megara that Philopoemen was coming to her house to await thereturn of her husband, who was absent. The good lady, all in a tremor, set herself hurriedly to prepare a supper worthy of her guest. While shewas thus engaged a man entered dressed in a shabby cloak, and with nomark of distinction. Taking him for one of the general's train who hadbeen sent on in advance, the housewife called on him to help her preparefor his master's visit. Nothing loath, the visitor threw off his cloak, seized the axe she offered him, and fell lustily to work in cutting upfire-wood. 

While he was thus engaged, the husband returned, and at once recognizedin his wife's lackey the expected visitor. 

"What does this mean, Philopoemen?" he cried, in surprise. 

"Nothing, " replied the general, "except that I am paying the penalty ofmy ugly looks. "

Philopoemen had abundant practice in the art of war. Between Arcadiaand Laconia hostility was the normal condition, and he took part in manyplundering incursions into the neighboring state. In these he alwayswent in first and came out last. When there was no fighting to be donehe would go every evening to an estate he owned several miles from town, would throw himself on the first mattress in his way and sleep like acommon laborer, and rising at break of day would go to work in thevineyard or at the plough. Then returning to the town, he would employhimself in public business or in friendly intercourse during theremainder of the day. 

When Philopoemen was thirty years old, Cleomenes, the Spartan king, one night attacked Megalopolis, forced the guards, broke in, and seizedthe market-place. The citizens sprang to arms, Philopoemen at theirhead, and a desperate conflict ensued in the streets. But their effortswere in vain, the enemy held their ground. Then Philopoemen sethimself to aid the escape of the citizens, making head against the foewhile his fellow-townsmen left the city. At last, after losing his horseand receiving several wounds, he fought his way out through the gate, being the last man to retreat. Cleomenes, finding that the citizenswould not listen to his fair offers for their return, and tired ofguarding empty houses, left the place after pillaging it and destroyingall he readily could. 

The next year Philopoemen took part in a battle between King Antigonusof Macedonia and the Spartans, in which the victory was due to hischarging the enemy at the head of the cavalry against the king's orders. 

"How came it, " asked the king after the battle, "that the horse chargedwithout waiting for the signal?"

"We were forced into it against our wills by a young man ofMegalopolis, " was the reply. 

"That young man, " said Antigonus, with a smile, "acted like anexperienced commander. "

During this battle a javelin, flung by a strong hand, passed throughboth his thighs, the head coming out on the other side. "There he stoodawhile, " says Plutarch, "as if he had been shackled, unable to move. Thefastening which joined the thong to the javelin made it difficult toget it drawn out, nor would any one about him venture to do it. But thefight being now at its hottest, and likely to be quickly decided, he wastransported with the desire of partaking in it, and struggled andstrained so violently, setting one leg forward, the other back, that atlast he broke the shaft in two; and thus got the pieces pulled out. Being in this manner set at liberty, he caught up his sword, and runningthrough the midst of those who were fighting in the first ranks, animated his men, and set them afire with emulation. "

As may be imagined, a man of such indomitable courage could not fail tomake his mark. Antigonus wished to engage him in his service, butPhilopoemen refused, as he knew his temper would not let him serveunder others. His thirst for war took him to Crete, where he brought thecavalry of that island to a state of perfection never before known inGreece. 

And now a new step in political progress took place in the Peloponnesus. The cities of Achæa joined into a league for common aid and defence. Other cities joined them, until it was hoped that all Peloponnesus wouldbe induced to combine into one commonwealth. There had been leaguesbefore in Greece, but they had all been dominated by some one powerfulcity. The Achæan League was the first that was truly a federal republicin organization, each city being an equal member of the confederacy. 

Philopoemen, whose name had grown to stand highest among the soldiersof Greece, was chosen as general of the cavalry, and at once sethimself to reform its discipline and improve its tactics. By his examplehe roused a strong warlike fervor among the people, inducing them togive up all display and exercise but those needed in war. "Nothing thenwas to be seen in the shops but plate breaking up or melting down, gilding of breastplates, and studding buckles and bits with silver;nothing in the places of exercise but horses managing and young menexercising their arms; nothing in the hands of the women but helmets andcrests of feathers to be dyed, and the military cloaks and riding frocksto be embroidered. . . . Their arms becoming light and easy to them withconstant use, they longed for nothing more than to try them with anenemy, and fight in earnest. "

Two years afterwards, in 208 B. C. , Philopoemen was elected_strategus_, or general in-chief, of the Achæan league. The martialardor of the army he had organized was not long left unsatisfied. It waswith his old enemy, the Spartans, that he was first concerned. Machanidas, the Spartan king, having attacked the city of Mantinea, Philopoemen marched against him, and soon gave him other work to do. Apart of the Achæan army flying, Machanidas hotly pursued. Philopoemenheld back his main body until the enemy had become scattered in pursuit, when he charged upon them with such energy that they were repulsed, andover four thousand were killed. Machanidas returning in haste, strove tocross a deep ditch between him and his foe; but as he was struggling upits side, Philopoemen transfixed him with his javelin, and hurled himback dead into the muddy ditch. 

This victory greatly enhanced the fame of the Arcadian general. Sometime afterwards he and a party of his young soldiers entered the theatreduring the Nemean games, just as the actor was speaking the openingwords of the play called "The Persians:"

 "Under his conduct Greece was glorious and was free. "

The whole audience at once turned towards Philopoemen, and clappedtheir hands with delight. It seemed to them that in this valiant warriorthe ancient glory of Greece had returned, and for the time some of theold-time spirit came back. But, despite this momentary glow, the sun ofGrecian freedom and glory was near its setting. A more dangerous enemythan Macedonia had arisen. Rome, which Pyrrhus had gone to Italy toseek, had its armies now in Greece itself, and the independence of thatcountry would soon be no more. 

The next exploit of Philopoemen had to do with Messenia. Nabis, thenew Spartan king, had taken that city at a time when Philopoemen wasout of command, the generalship of the League not being permanent. Hetried to persuade Lysippus, then general of the Achæans, to go to therelief of Messenia, but he refused, saying that it was lost beyond hope. Thereupon Philopoemen set out himself, followed by such of his fellowcitizens as deemed him their general by nature's commission. The verywind of his coming won the town. Nabis, hearing that Philopoemen wasnear at hand, slipped hastily out of the city by the opposite gates, glad to get away in safety. He escaped, but Messenia was recovered. Themartial spirit of Philopoemen next took him to Crete, where fightingwas to be had to his taste. Yet he left his native city of Megalopolisso pressed by the enemy that its people were forced to sow grain intheir very streets. However, he came back at length, met Nabis in thefield, rescued the army from a dangerous situation, and put the enemy toflight. Soon after he made peace with Sparta, and achieved a remarkabletriumph in inducing that great and famous city to join the AchæanLeague. In truth, the nobles of Sparta, glad to have so important anally, sent Philopoemen a valuable present. But such was his reputationfor honor that for a time no man could be found who dared offer it tohim; and when at length the offer was made he went to Sparta himself, and advised its nobles, if they wanted any one to bribe, to let it notbe good men, but those ill citizens whose seditious voices needed to besilenced. 

In the end Sparta was destined to suffer at the hands of itsincorruptible ally, it having revolted from the League. Philopoemenmarched into Laconia, led his army unopposed to Sparta, and tookpossession of that famous seat of Mars, within which no hostile foot hadhitherto been set. He razed its walls to the ground, put to death thosewho had stirred the city to rebellion, and took away a great part of itsterritory, which he gave to Megalopolis. Those who had been madecitizens of Sparta by tyrants he drove from the country, and threethousand who refused to go he sold into slavery; and, as a furtherinsult, with the money received from their sale he built a colonnade atMegalopolis. 

Finally, as a death-blow to Spartan power, he abolished the time-honoredlaws of Lycurgus, under which that city had for centuries been so great, and forced the people to educate their children and live in the samemanner as the Achæans. Thus ended the glory of Sparta. Some timeafterwards its citizens resumed their old laws and customs, but the cityhad sunk from its high estate, and from that time forward vanished fromhistory. 

At length, being then seventy years of age, misfortune came to thisgreat warrior and ended his warlike career. An enemy of his had inducedthe Messenians to revolt from the Achæan League. At once the oldsoldier, though lying sick with a fever at Argos, rose from his bed, andreached Megalopolis, fifty miles away, in a day. Putting himself at thehead of an army, he marched to meet the foe. In the fight that followedhis force was driven back, and he became separated from his men in hisefforts to protect the rear. Unluckily his horse stumbled in a stonyplace, and he was thrown to the ground and stunned. The enemy, who werefollowing closely, at once made him prisoner, and carried him, withinsult and contumely, and with loud shouts of triumph, to the citygates, through which the very tidings of his coming had once driven atriumphant foe. 

The Messenians rapidly turned from anger to pity for their noble foe, and would probably have in the end released him, had time been giventhem. But Dinocrates, their general and his enemy, resolved thatPhilopoemen should not escape from his hands. He confined him in aclose prison, and, learning that his army had returned and weredetermined upon his rescue, decided that that night should bePhilopoemen's last. 

The prisoner lay--not sleeping, but oppressed with grief and trouble--inhis prison cell, when a man entered bearing poison in a cup. Philopoemen sat up, and, taking the cup, asked the man if he had heardanything of the Achæan horsemen. 

"The most of them got off safe, " said the man. 

"It is well, " said Philopoemen, with a cheerful look, "that we havenot been in every way unfortunate. "

Then, without a word more, he drank the poison and lay down again. As hewas old and weak from his fall, he was quickly dead. 

The news of his death filled all Achæa with lamentation and thirst forrevenge. Messenia was ravaged with fire and sword till it submitted. Dinocrates and all who had voted for Philopoemen's death killedthemselves to escape death by torture. All Achæa mourned at his funeral, statues were erected to his memory, and the highest honors decreed tohim in many cities. In the words of Pausanias, a late Greek writer, "Miltiades was the first, and Philopoemen the last, benefactor to thewhole of Greece. "

_THE DEATH-STRUGGLE OF GREECE. _

Greece learned too late the art of combining for self-defence. In thewar against the vast power of Persia, Athens stood almost alone. Whataid she got from the rest of Greece was given grudgingly. Themistocleshad to gain the aid of the Grecian fleet at Salamis by a trick. Philipof Macedonia conquered Greece by dividing it and fighting it piecemeal. Only after the close of the Macedonian power and the beginning of thatof Rome did Greece begin to learn the art of unity, and then the lessoncame too late. The Achæan League, which combined the nations of thePeloponnesus into a federal republic, was in its early days kept busy inforcing its members to remain true to their pledge. If it had survivedfor a century it would probably have brought all Greece into the League, and have produced a nation capable of self-defence. But Rome already hadher hand on the throat of Greece, and political wisdom came to that landtoo late to avail. 

[Illustration: REMAINS OF THE TEMPLE OF MINERVA, CORINTH. ]

We have come, indeed, to the end of the story of Grecian liberty. TwiceGreece rose in arms against the power of Rome, but in the end she fellhopelessly into the fetters forged for the world by that lord ofconquest. Of the celebrated cities of Greece two had already fallen. Thebes had been swept from the face of the earth in the wind ofAlexander's wrath. Sparta had been reduced to a feeble village by theanger of Philopoemen. Corinth, now the largest and richest city ofGreece, was to be razed to the ground for daring to defy Rome; andAthens was to be plundered and humiliated by a conquering Roman army. 

It will not take long to tell how all this came about. The story is ashort one, but full of vital consequences. Philopoemen, the greatgeneral of the Achæan League, died of poison 183 B. C. In the same yeardied in exile Hannibal, the greatest foe Rome ever knew, and Scipio, oneof its ablest generals. Rome was already master of Greece. But the Romansenate feared trouble from the growth of the Achæan League, and, toweaken it, took a thousand of its noblest citizens, under variouscharges, and sent them as hostages to Rome. Among them was thecelebrated historian Polybius, who wrote the history of Hannibal's wars. 

These exiles were not brought to trial on the weak charges made againstthem, but they were detained in Italy for seventeen years. By the end ofthat time many of them had died, and Rome at last did what it was not inthe habit of doing, it took pity on those who were left and let themreturn home. 

Roman pity in this case proved disastrous to Greece. Many of the exileswere exasperated by their treatment, and were no sooner at home thanthey began to stir up the people to revolt. Polybius held them back fora time, but during his absence the spirit of sedition grew. It wasintensified by the action of Rome, which, to weaken Greece, resolved todissolve the Achæan League, or to take from it its strongest cities. Roman ambassadors carried this edict to Corinth, the great city of theLeague. When their errand become known the people rose in riot, insultedthe ambassadors, and vowed that they were not and would not be theslaves of Rome. 

If they had shown the strength and spirit to sustain their vow theymight have had some warrant for it. But the fanatics who stirred thecountry to revolt against the advice of its wisest citizens provedincapable in war. Their army was finally put to rout in the year 146B. C. By a Roman army under the leadership of Lucius Mummius, consul ofRome. 

This Roman victory was won in the vicinity of Corinth. The routed armydid not seek to defend itself in that city, but fled past its opengates, and left it to the mercy of the Roman general. The gates stillstood open. No defence was made. But Mummius, fearing some trick, waiteda day or two before entering. On doing so he found the city nearlydeserted. The bulk of the population had fled. The greatest and richestcity which Greece then possessed had fallen without a blow struck in itsdefence. 

Yet Mummius chose to consider it as a city taken by storm. All the menwho remained were put to the sword; the women and children were kept tobe sold as slaves; the town was mercilessly plundered of its wealth andtreasures of art. 

But this degree of vengeance did not satisfy Rome. Her ambassadors hadbeen insulted, --by a mob, it is true; but in those days the law-abidinghad often to suffer for the deeds of the mob. The Achæan League, withCorinth at its head, had dared to resist the might and majesty of Rome. A lesson must be given that would not be easily forgotten. Corinth mustbe utterly destroyed. 

Such was the deliberate decision of the Roman senate; such the ordersent to Mummius. At his command the plundering of the city wascompleted. It was fabulously rich in works of art. Many of these weresent to Rome. Many of them were destroyed. The Romans were ignorant oftheir value. Their leader himself was as incompetent and ignorant as anyRoman general could well be. He had but one thought, to obey the ordersof the senate. The plundered city was thereupon set on fire and burnedto the ground, its walls were pulled down, the spot where it had stoodwas cursed, its territory was declared the property of the Roman people. No more complete destruction of a city had ever taken place. A centuryafterwards Corinth was rebuilt by order of Julius Cæsar, but it neverbecame again the Corinth of old. 

As for the destruction of works of priceless value, it was pitiable. When Polybius returned and saw the ruins, he found common soldiersplaying dice on paintings of the most celebrated artists of Greece. Mummius, who was as honest as he was dull-witted, strictly obeyed ordersin sending the choicest of the spoil to Rome, and made himself foreverfamous as a marvel of stupidity by a remark to those who were chargedwith the conveyance of some of the noblest of Grecian statues. 

"Take good care that you do not lose these on the way, " he said; "for ifyou do you shall be made to replace them by others of equal value. "

Rome could conquer the world, but honest Mummius had set a task whichRome throughout its whole history was not able to perform. 

Thus ended the death-struggle of Greece. The chiefs of the party ofrevolt were put to death; the inhabitants of Corinth who had fled weretaken and sold as slaves. The walls of all the cities which had resistedRome were levelled to the ground. An annual tribute was laid on them bythe conquerors. Self-government was left to the states of Greece, butthey were deprived of their old privilege of making war. 

Yet Greece might have flourished under the new conditions, for peaceheals the wounds made by war, had its states not been too much weakenedby their previous conflicts, and had not a new war arisen just when theywere beginning to enjoy some of the fruits of peace. 

This war, which broke out sixty years later, had its origin in Asia. Mithridates the Great, king of Pontus, had made himself master of allAsia Minor, where he ordered that all the Romans found should be killed. It is said that eighty thousand were slaughtered. Then he sent an armyinto Greece, under his general Archelaus, and there found the peopleready and willing to join him, in the hope of gaining their freedom byhis aid. Rome just then seemed weak, and they deemed it a good season torebel. 

Archelaus took possession of Athens and the Piræus, from which all thefriends of Rome were driven into exile. Meanwhile, Rome was distractedby the struggle between the two great leaders Marius and Sulla. Butleaving Rome to take care of itself, Sulla marched an army againstMithridates, entered Greece, and laid siege to Athens. 

This was in the year 87 B. C. The siege that followed was a long one. Archelaus lay in Piræus, with abundance of food, and had command of thesea. But the long walls that led to Athens had long since vanished. Foodcould not be conveyed from the port to the city, as of old. Hunger cameto the aid of Rome. Resistance having almost ceased, Sulla broke intothe famous old city March 1, 86 B. C. , and gave it up to rapine andpillage by his soldiers. 

Yet Athens was not destroyed as Corinth had been. Sulla had some respectfor art and antiquity, and carefully preserved the old monuments of thecity, while such of its people as had not been massacred were restoredto their civil rights as subjects of Rome. Soon the Asiatics were drivenfrom Greece and Roman dominion was once more restored. Thus ended thelast struggle for liberty in Greece. Nineteen hundred years were to passaway before another blow for freedom would be struck on Grecian soil. 

_ZENOBIA AND LONGINUS. _

Among the most famous of the women of ancient days must be namedZenobia, the celebrated queen of Palmyra and the East, and who claimedto be descended from the kings whom the conquests of Alexander left overEgypt, the Ptolemies, among whose descendants was included the stillmore celebrated Cleopatra. Zenobia was the most lovely as well as themost heroic of her sex, no woman of Asiatic birth ever having equalledher in striking evidence of valor and ability, and none surpassed her inbeauty. We are told that while of a dark complexion, her smile revealedteeth of pearly whiteness, while her large black eyes sparkled with anuncommon brightness that was softened by the most attractive sweetness. She possessed a strong and melodious voice, and, in short, had all thecharms of womanly beauty. 

Her mind was as well stored as her body was attractive. She was familiarwith the Greek, the Syriac, and the Egyptian languages, and was an adeptalso in Latin, then the political language of the civilized world. Shewas an earnest student of Oriental history, of which she herself drew upan epitome, while she was fully conversant with Homer and Plato, and theother great writers of Greece. 

This lovely and accomplished woman gave her hand in marriage toOdenathus, who from a private station had gained by his valor the empireof the East. He made Syria his by courage and ability, and twice pursuedthe Persian king to the gates of Ctesiphon. Of this hero Zenobia becamethe companion and adviser. In hunting, of which he was passionatelyfond, she emulated him, pursuing the lions, panthers, and other wildbeasts of the desert with an ardor equal to his own, and a fortitude andendurance which his did not surpass. Inured to fatigue, she usuallyappeared on horseback in a military habit, and at times marched on footat the head of the troops. Odenathus owed his success largely to theprudence and fortitude of his incomparable wife. 

In the midst of his successes in war, Odenathus was cut off in 250 A. D. By assassination. He had punished his nephew, who killed him in return. Zenobia at once succeeded to the vacant throne, and by her abilitygoverned Palmyra, Syria, and the East. In this task, in which no mancould have surpassed her in courage and judgment, she was aided by thecounsels of one of the ablest Greeks who had appeared since the days ofthe famous writers of the classical age. Longinus, who had been herpreceptor in the language and literature of Greece, and who, on herascending the throne, became her secretary and chief counsellor in stateaffairs, was a literary critic and philosopher whose lucid intellectseemed to belong to the brightest days of Greece. He was probably anative of Syria, born some time after 200 A. D. , and had studiedliterature and philosophy at Athens, Alexandria, and Rome, under theablest teachers of the age. His learning was immense, and he is thefirst man to whom was applied the expression "a living library, " or, togive it its modern form, "a walking encyclopædia. " His writings werelively and penetrating, showing at once taste, judgment, and learning. We have only fragments of them, except the celebrated "Treatise on theSublime, " which is one of the most notable of ancient criticalproductions. 

Under the advice of this distinguished counsellor, Zenobia entered upona career which brought her disaster, but has also brought her fame. Herhusband Odenathus had avenged Valerian, the Roman emperor, who had beentaken prisoner and shamefully treated by the Persian king. For thisservice he was confirmed in his authority by the senate of Rome. Butafter his death the senate refused to grant this authority to his widow, and called on her to deliver her dominion over to Rome. Under the adviceof Longinus the martial queen refused, defied the power of Rome, anddetermined to maintain her empire in despite of the senate and army ofthe proud "master of the world. "

War at once broke out. A Roman army invaded Syria, but was met byZenobia with such warlike energy and skill that it was hurled back indefeat, and its commanding general, having lost his army, was drivenback to Europe in disgrace. This success gave Zenobia the highest fameand power in the world of the Orient. The states of Arabia, Armenia, and Persia, in dread of her enmity, solicited alliance with her. To herdominions, which extended from the Euphrates over much of Asia Minor andto the borders of Arabia, she added the populous kingdom of Egypt, theinheritance of her claimed ancestors. The Roman emperor Claudiusacknowledged her authority and left her unmolested. Assuming thesplendid title of Queen of the East, she established at her court thestately power of the courts of Asia, exacted from her subjects theadoration shown to the Persian king, and, while strict in her economy, at times displayed the greatest liberality and magnificence. 

But a new emperor came to the throne in Rome, and a new period in thehistory of Zenobia began. Aurelian, a fierce and vigorous soldier, marched at the head of the Roman legions against this valiant queen, whohad built herself up an empire of great extent, and demanded that sheshould submit to the power of his arms. Asia Minor was quickly restoredto Rome, Antioch fell into the hands of Aurelian, and the Romans stilladvanced, to meet the army of the Syrian queen. Meeting near Antioch, agreat battle was fought. Zabdas, who had conquered Egypt for Zenobia, led her army, but the valiant queen animated her soldiers by herpresence, and exhorted them to the utmost exertions. Her troops, greatin number, were mainly composed of light-armed archers and of cavalryclothed in complete steel. These Asiatic warriors proved incapable ofenduring the charge of the veteran legions of Rome. The army of Zenobiamet with defeat, and at a subsequent battle, near Emesa, met with asecond disastrous repulse. 

Zenobia found it impossible to collect a third army. Most of the nationsunder her control had submitted to the conqueror. Egypt was invaded by aRoman army. Out of her lately great empire only her capital, Palmyra, remained. Here she retired, made preparations for a vigorous defence, and declared that her reign and life should only end together. 

Palmyra was then one of the most splendid cities of the world. Ahalting-place for the caravans which conveyed to Europe the richproducts of India and the East, it had grown into a great and opulentcity, whose former magnificence is shown by the ruins of temples, palaces, and porticos of Grecian architecture, which now extend over adistrict of several miles. In this city, surrounded with strong walls, Zenobia had gathered the various military engines which in those dayswere used in siege and defence, and, woman though she was, was preparedto make the most vigorous resistance to the armies of Rome. 

Aurelian had before him no light task. In his march over the desert theArabs harassed him perpetually. The siege proved difficult, and theemperor, leading the attacks in person, was himself wounded with a dart. Aurelian, finding that he had undertaken no trifling task, prudentlyoffered excellent terms to the besieged, but they were rejected withinsulting language. Zenobia hoped that famine would come to her aid todefeat her foe, and had reason to expect that Persia would send an armyto her relief. Neither happened. The Persian king had just died. Convoys of food crossed the desert in safety. Despairing at length ofsuccess, Zenobia mounted her fleetest dromedary and fled across thedesert to the Euphrates. Here she was overtaken and brought back acaptive to the emperor's feet. 

Soon afterwards Palmyra surrendered. The emperor treated it with lenity, but a great treasure in gold, silver, silk, and precious stones fellinto his hands, with all the animals and arms. Zenobia being broughtinto his presence, he sternly asked her how she had dared to take armsagainst the emperors of Rome. She answered, with respectful prudence, "Because I disdained to consider as Roman emperors an Aureolus or aGallienus. You alone I acknowledge as my conqueror and my sovereign. "

Her fortitude, however, did not last. The soldiers, with angry clamor, demanded her immediate execution, and the unhappy queen, losing for thefirst time the courage which had so long sustained her, gave way toterror, and declared that her resistance was not due to herself, but hadarisen from the counsels of Longinus and her other advisers. It was theone base act in the woman's life. She had purchased a brief period ofexistence at the expense of honor and fame. Aurelian, a fierce soldier, to whom the learning of Longinus made no appeal, at once ordered hisexecution. The scholar died like a philosopher. He uttered no complaint. He pitied, but did not blame, his mistress. He comforted his afflictedfriends. With the calm fortitude of Socrates he followed theexecutioner, and died like one for whom death had no terrors. Theignorant emperor, in seizing the treasures of Palmyra, did not know thathe had lost its choicest treasure in setting free the soul of Longinusthe scholar. 

What followed may be more briefly told. Marching back with his spoilsfrom Palmyra, Aurelian had already reached Europe when word came to himthat the Palmyrians whom he had spared had risen in revolt and massacredhis garrison. Instantly turning, he marched back, his soul filled withthirst for revenge. Reaching Palmyra with great celerity, his wrath fellwith murderous fury on that devoted city. Not only armed rebels, butwomen and children, were massacred, and the city was almost levelledwith the earth. The greatness of Palmyra was at an end. It neverrecovered from this dreadful blow. It sunk, step by step, into themiserable village, in the midst of stately ruins, into which it has nowdeclined. 

On his return Aurelian celebrated his victories and conquests with amagnificent triumph, one of the most ostentatious that any Roman emperorhad ever given. His conquests had been great, both in the West and theEast, and no emperor had better deserved a triumphant return to theimperial city, the mistress of the world. 

All day long, from morning to night, the grand procession wound on. Atits head were twenty elephants, four royal tigers, and about two hundredof the most curious and interesting animals of the North, South, andEast. Sixteen hundred gladiators followed, destined for the cruel sportsto be held in the amphitheatre. Then came a display of the wealth ofPalmyra, the magnificent plate and wardrobe of Zenobia, the arms andensigns of numerous conquered nations. Embassadors from the most remoteregions of the civilized earth, --from Ethiopia, Arabia, Persia, India, and China, --attired in rich and singular dresses, attested the fame ofthe Roman emperor, while his power was shown by the many presents he hadreceived, among them a great number of crowns of gold, which had beengiven him by grateful cities. 

[Illustration: THE RUINS OF PALMYRA. ]

A long train of captives next declared his triumph, among them Goths, Vandals, Franks, Gauls, Germans, Syrians, and Egyptians. Each people wasdistinguished by its peculiar inscription, the title of Amazons beinggiven to ten Gothic heroines who had been taken in arms. But in thisgreat crowd of unhappy captives one above all attracted the attention ofthe host of spectators, the beauteous figure of the Queen of the East. Zenobia was so laden with jewels as almost to faint under their weight. Her limbs bore fetters of gold, while the golden chain that encircledher neck was of such weight that it had to be supported by a slave. Shewalked along the streets of Rome, preceding the magnificent chariot inwhich she had indulged hopes of riding in triumph through those grandavenues. Behind it came two other chariots, still more sumptuous, thoseof Odenathus and the Persian monarch. The triumphal car of Aurelian, which followed, was one which had formerly been used by a Gothic king, and was drawn by four stags or four elephants, we are not sure which. The most illustrious of the senate, the people, and the army closed thisgrand procession, which was gazed upon with joy and wonder by the vastpopulation of Rome. 

So extended was the pompous parade that though it began with the dawn ofday, the ninth hour had arrived when it ascended to the Capitol, andnight had fallen when the emperor returned to his palace. Then followedtheatrical representations, games in the circus, gladiatorial combats, wild-beast shows, and naval engagements. Not for generations had Romeseen such a festival. Of the rich spoils a considerable portion wasdedicated to the gods of Rome, the temples glittered with goldenofferings, and the Temple of the Sun, a magnificent structure erected byAurelian, was enriched with more than fifteen thousand pounds of gold. 

To Zenobia the victor behaved with a generous clemency such as theconquering emperors of Rome rarely indulged in. He presented her with anelegant villa at Tibur, or Tivoli, about twenty miles from the imperialcity; and here, surrounded by luxury, she who had played so imperial a_rôle_ in history sank into the humbler state of a Roman matron. Herdaughters married into noble families, and the descendants of the onceQueen of the East were still known in Rome in the fifth century of theChristian era. 

_THE LITERARY GLORY OF GREECE. _

Shall we now leave the domain of historic events, of which the land ofGreece presents so large and varied a store, and consider that otherfeature of national life and development which has made Greece the mostnotable of lands--the intellectual growth of its people, the splendor ofart and literature which gave it a glory that glows unfading still?

In the whole history of mankind there is nothing elsewhere to comparewith the achievements of the Greek intellect during the few centuries inwhich freedom and thought flourished on that rocky peninsula, and thenames and works handed down to us are among the noblest in the grandrepublic of thought. Just when this remarkable era of literature beganwe do not know. So far as any remains of it are concerned, it began asthe sun begins its daily career in the heavens, with a lustre notsurpassed in any part of its course. For the oldest of Greek writingswhich we possess are among the most brilliant, comprising the poems ofHomer, the model of all later works in the epic field, and which lightup and illustrate a broad period of human history as no works indifferent vein could do. They shine out in a realm of darkness, andshow us what men were doing and thinking and how they were living andstriving at a time which but for them would be buried in impenetrabledarkness. 

This was the epoch of the wandering minstrel, when the bard sang hisstirring lays of warlike scenes and heroic deeds in castle and court. But the mind of Greece was then awakening in other fields, and it is ofgreat interest to find that Homer was quickly followed by an epic writerof markedly different vein, Hesiod, the poet of peace and rural labors, of the home and the field. While Homer paints for us the warlike life ofhis day, Hesiod paints the peaceful labors of the husbandman, theholiness of domestic life, the duty of economy, the education of youth, and the details of commerce and politics. He also collects the flyingthreads of mythological legend and lays down for us the story of thegods in a work of great value as the earliest exposition of thispicturesque phase of religious belief. The veil is lifted from the faceof youthful Greece by these two famous writers, and we are shown theland and its people in full detail at a period of whose conditions weotherwise would be in total ignorance. 

Such was the earliest phase of Greek literature, so far as any remainsof it exist. It took on a different form when Athens rose to politicalsupremacy and became a capital of art and the chief centre of Hellenicthought, its productions being received with admiration throughoutGreece, while the ripened judgment and taste of its citizens became thearbiters of literary excellence for many centuries to follow. Theearliest notable literature, however, came from the Ionians of AsiaMinor and the adjacent islands. In the soft and mild climate andproductive valleys of this region and under the warm suns and beside thelimpid seas of the smiling islands, the mobile Ionic spirit foundinspiration and blossomed into song while yet the rocky Attic soil wasbarren of literary growth. But with the conquering inroads of thePersians literature fled from this field to find a new home among "thosebusy Athenians, who are never at rest themselves nor are willing to letany one else be. "

[Illustration: ALONG THE COAST OF GREECE. ]

The day of the epic poet had now passed and the lyric took its place, making its first appearance, like the epic, in Ionia and the Ægeanislands, but finding its most appreciative audience and enthusiasticsupport in Athens, the coming home of the muse. Song became theprevailing literary demand, and was supplied abundantly by such choicesingers as Sappho, Alcæus, Anacreon, Simonides, and others of the softand cheerful vein, the biting satires of Archilochus, the noble odes ofPindar, the war anthems of Tyrtæus, and the productions of many oflesser fame. 

This flourishing period of song sank away when a new form of literature, that of the drama, suddenly came into being and attained immediatepopularity. For a century earlier it had been slowly taking form in therural districts of Attica, beginning in the odes addressed to Dionysus, the god of wine, the Bacchus of Roman mythology. These odes were sungat the public festivals of the vintage season, were accompanied bygesture and action and in time by dialogue, and the day came when groupsof amateur actors travelled in carts from place to place to presenttheir rude dramatic scenes, then mainly composed of song and dance, rudejests, and dialogues. In this way the drama slowly came into being, comedy from the jovial by-play of the rustic actors, tragedy from theircrude efforts to reproduce the serious side of mythologic story. A greattragic artist and poet, the far-famed Æschylus, lifted these primitiveattempts into the field of the true drama. He was quickly followed bytwo other great artists in the same field, Sophocles and Euripides, while the efforts of the earlier comedians were succeeded by thefun-distilling productions of Aristophanes, the greatest of ancientartists in this field. 

This blossoming age of poetry and the drama came after the desperatestruggles of the Persian War, which had left Athens a heap of ruins. Inthe new Athens which rose under the fostering care of Pericles, not onlyliterature flourished but art reached its culmination, temple and hall, colonnade and theatre showing the artistic beauty and grandeur of thenew architecture, while such sculptors as Phidias and such painters asZeuxis adorned the city with the noblest products of art. During thesebusy years Athens became a marvel of beauty and art, the resort ofstrangers from all quarters, the ablest workers in marble and metal, the noblest artists, poets, and philosophers, until for more than acentury that city was the recognized centre of the loftiest products ofthe human intellect. 

Prose came later than poetry, but was soon flourishing as luxuriantly. The early historians quickly yielded Herodotus, the delightful oldstoryteller, with his poetic prose; Xenophon, with his lucid and flowingnarrative; and Thucydides, the greatest of ancient historians and thefirst to give philosophic depth to the annals of mankind. The advent ofhistory was accompanied by that of oratory, which among the Greeksdeveloped into one of the choicest forms of literature, especially inthe case of the greatest of the world's orators, Demosthenes, whoseorations were inspired by the noblest of themes, that of a patrioticeffort to preserve the independence of Greece against the ambitiousdesigns of Philip of Macedon. 

Philosophy, the third great form of Greek prose literature, was asdiligently cultivated, and has left as many examples for modern perusal. The works of the earlier philosophers were in verse, while Socrates, thefirst of the moral philosophers, left no writings, doing his work withtongue instead of pen, though he forms the leading character in Plato'sphilosophic dialogues. In Plato we have the most famous of the world'sphilosophers, and a writer of the ablest skill, in whose works theimagination of the poet is happily blended with the reasoning of thephilosopher, his productions constituting a form of philosophic drama, in which the character of each speaker is closely preserved, Socratesbeing usually the chief personage introduced. 

Following Plato came Aristotle, his equal in fame though not in literarymerit. His name will long survive as that of one of the ablest thinkersthe world has produced, a reasoner of exceptional ability, whose scopeof research covered all fields and whose discoveries in practicalscience formed the first true introduction to mankind of this greatfield of human study, to-day the greatest of them all. 

We have named here only the leaders in Greek literature, the whole arraybeing far too great to cover in brief space. Following the older form ofthe drama, with its archaic character, came two later forms, the Middleand the New Comedy, in the latter of which Menander was the most famouswriter, making in his plays some approach to the modern form. Philosophyleft later exponents in Zeno, Epicurus, and many others, and history inPolybius, Strabo, Plutarch, Arrian, and others of note. Science, asdeveloped by Aristotle and Hippocrates, the father of medicine, wascarried forward by many others, including Theophrastus, the ablesuccessor of Aristotle; Euclid, the first great geometer; Eratosthenesand Hipparchus, the astronomers; and, latest of ancient scientists, Ptolemy, whose works on astronomy and geography became the text-books ofthe middle-age schools. 

Long before these later writers came into the field the centres ofliterary effort had shifted to new localities. Sicily became the fieldof the choicest lyric poetry, giving us Theocritus, with his charming"Idyls, " or scenes of rural life, and his songful dialogues, with theirfine description and delightful humor. Following him came Bion andMoschus, two other bucolic poets, whose finest productions are elegiesof unsurpassed beauty. 

Syracuse was the home of this new field of lyric poetry, but there wereother centres in which literature flourished, especially Pergamus, Antiochia, Pella, and above all Alexandria, the city founded byAlexander the Great in Egypt, and which under the fostering care of thePtolemies, Alexander's successors in this quarter, developed into aremarkable centre of intellectual effort. 

The first Ptolemy made Alexandria his capital and founded there a greatstate institution which became famous as the Museum, and to whichphilosophers, scholars, and students flocked from all parts of theworld. Here learned men could find a retreat from the bustle of thegreat metropolis which Alexandria became, and pursue their studies orteach their pupils in peace within its walls, and it is said that at onetime fourteen thousand students gathered within its classic shades. 

Here grew up two great libraries, said to number seven hundred thousandvolumes, and embracing all that was worthy of study or preservation inthe writings of ancient days. Of these, one was burned during the siegeof the city by Julius Cæsar, but it was replaced by Marc Antony, whorobbed Pergamus of its splendid library of two hundred thousand volumesand sent it to Alexandria as a present to Cleopatra. 

In this secure retreat, amply supported by the liberality of thePtolemies, philosophers and scholars spent their days in mental cultureand learned lectures and debates. The scientific studies inaugurated byAristotle were here continued by a succession of great astronomers, geometers, chemists, and physicians, for whose use were furnished abotanical garden, a menagerie of animals, and facilities for humandissection, the first school of anatomy ever known. 

In the heart of the great library, battening on books, flourished acircle of learned literary critics, engaged in the study of Homer andthe other already classical writers of Greece and supplying new andrevised editions of their works. Here philosophy was ardently pursued, the works of Plato and his great rivals being diligently studied, whilein a later age the innovation of Neoplatonism was abundantly debated andtaught. A new school of poetry also arose, most of its followers beingmechanical versifiers, though the idyllic poets of Sicily sought thesefavoring halls. Most famous among the philosophers of Alexandria was themaiden Hypatia, who had studied in the still active schools of Athens, and taught the doctrines of Plato and Aristotle and the then populartenets of Neoplatonism--her fame being chiefly due to her violent andterrible death at the hands of fanatical opponents of her teachings. 

The dynasty of the Ptolemies vanished with the death of Cleopatra, andduring the wars and struggles that followed the library disappeared andthe supremacy of Alexandria as a centre of mental culture passed away. The literary culture of Athens, whose schools of philosophy longsurvived its downfall as the capital of an independent state, alsodisappeared after being plundered of many of its works of art by Sulla, the Roman tyrant, and in later years for the adornment ofConstantinople; its schools were closed by order of the EmperorJustinian in 529 A. D. ; and with them the light of science and learning, which had been shining for many centuries, though very dimly at thelast, was extinguished, and the final vestige of the glory of Athens andthe artistic and literary supremacy of Greece vanished from the land oftheir birth. 

 THE END. 

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The sequel to this episode will be found in the tale entitled "TheFortune of Croesus. "

[2] Equal to about one thousand dollars. 

[3] The army of Sparta, which before had stayed at home to await thefull of the moon, did so now to complete certain religious ceremonies, sparing but this handful of men for the vital need of Greece.