Stories From Thucydides by H. L. Havell

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Others spoke to the same effect, and then the representatives of each
city were called up in turn to give their vote; and by far the greater
number voted for war. But many months elapsed before any overt act of
hostility occurred, and the time was occupied in preparations for an
invasion of Attica, and in a series of demands sent by Sparta to try
the temper of the Athenians, and put them in the wrong, if they
refused to comply. The first of these messages was conveyed in
mysterious terms, bidding the Athenians "to drive out the curse of the
goddess." The meaning of this was as follows: nearly two hundred years
before a certain Cylon tried to make himself tyrant of Athens: the
attempt was frustrated, and some of his adherents, who had taken
refuge in the sacred precinct of Athene, were put to death by the
magistrates, after they had surrendered under a solemn promise that
their lives should be spared. The illustrious family of the
Alcmaeonidae was especially concerned in this act of murder and
sacrilege, and the Spartans, in reviving the memory of an ancient
crime, were aiming a blow at Pericles, who was descended on his
mother's side from the Alcmaeonidae. For the Athenians were highly
sensitive in all matters of religion, and it was possible that they
might even banish Pericles, if their consciences were suddenly
alarmed. And though this was not likely, the Spartans hoped at any
rate to lessen his influence, which was adverse to themselves, and
fasten on him the odium of being, in some sense, the cause of the war.
But their manoeuvre was unsuccessful, and the Athenians retorted by
bidding the Spartans drive out the curse of Taenarus, in allusion to
the murder of certain Helots who had taken sanctuary in the temple of
Poseidon at Taenarus. And they further charged the Spartans to rid
themselves of the curse of Athene of the Brazen House. This was a holy
place in Sparta, where Pausanias, when convicted of treasonable
correspondence with Persia, had sought refuge from the vengeance of
the Spartans. He was kept a close prisoner in the temple by the
Ephors, who set a watch on him, to prevent him from being supplied
with food, and when he was reduced to the last extremity, brought him
out to die. But though his death occurred outside the temple, this did
not save them from the sin of sacrilege, and a public reprimand by the
Delphic God.

The game of diplomatic fencing went on for some time, and envoys were
continually passing to and fro between Athens and Sparta. The
Athenians were required to raise the siege of Potidaea--to allow the
Aeginetans to govern themselves--to rescind the decree against Megara;
and when all these demands were met by a firm refusal, the Spartans
sent two ambassadors, bearing their ultimatum, which was worded as
follows: "The Lacedaemonians wish that there should be peace, and war
may be averted if ye will let the Greeks go free." Knowing that the
decisive moment had now arrived, the Athenians met together in full
assembly, to decide on their final answer. There were many speakers on
either side, some arguing for peace, others for war: and then was
heard that majestic voice, which, for more than thirty years, had
guided the counsels of Athens--the voice of the Olympian Pericles. He
had chosen his line of policy a year before, in the fatal affair of
Corcyra, and it was now too late to draw back: peace with honour was
no longer possible for Athens. The furious zeal of Corinth had united
her enemies against her, and they were bent on her ruin. The demands
put forward by Sparta were a mere pretext, and if the Athenians had
yielded the smallest point, new concessions would have been required
of them, until they were stripped of all that had been won by the
strenuous toil and devotion of two generations. "We must listen," said
Pericles, in the course of a long speech, "to no proposal from Sparta
which is not made as from an equal to an equal. Dictation is not
arbitration. If we are to fight at all, the occasion matters little,
be it small or great. What right has Sparta to require of us that we
should rescind the decree against Megara, when her own laws jealously
exclude all strangers from entering her streets? Or why should we
relax our hold upon our allies, or break off the relations with them
which were sanctioned by the Thirty Years' Truce? No, all this is a
mere pretence, and if we are deceived by it, we shall be led on step
by step to deeper and still deeper humiliation. It may seem a hard
thing to give up the fair land of Attica to pillage and devastation.
But think how far greater was the sacrifice made by our grandsires,
who refused the fairest offers from Persia, and gave up all they had,
rather than betray the common cause. Athens and Attica were then all
the country they had, and these lost they had nothing left but their
ships, their strong arms, and their stout hearts. In our case, on the
other hand, all the essential elements of our power--our city, our
fleet, our colonial empire--remain untouched. Shall we, then, sell our
honour to save a few vineyards and olive-grounds from temporary
damage? That would be a short-sighted policy indeed, and in the end
would involve not only dishonour, but the loss of our whole empire.
Let us act, then, in the spirit of our fathers, and send away the
Spartan ambassadors with the only answer which is consistent with our
dignity and our interest."

The reply to the Spartan ultimatum was framed as Pericles had
directed, and from this moment all negotiations ceased. And here we
close our account of the events which led to the Peloponnesian War.

THE SURPRISE OF PLATAEA

I

On the northern slope of Cithaeron, the mountain range which divides
Attica from Boeotia, lies the little town of Plataea. By race and by
geographical position the Plataeans were naturally included in the
Boeotian confederacy, under the leadership of Thebes. But nearly a
century before the time of which we are now speaking they had deserted
the Thebans, whose rule was harsh and overbearing, and enrolled
themselves among the allies of Athens. On the eve of the battle of
Marathon, they had joined the Athenians with their whole force, a
thousand strong, and shared the peril and the honour of that glorious
day. Ten years later their city was laid in ruins by the army of
Xerxes, at the instigation of the Thebans; and in the following year
the great battle which ended the long struggle between Greece and
Persia was fought within sight of their shattered walls. In gratitude
for this great victory, the confederate Greeks under Pausanias
declared that the Plataean territory should be hallowed ground, and
swore a solemn oath to maintain the independence of the city. But the
Thebans had never forgotten or forgiven the secession of Plataea from
the confederacy of which they were the leaders; and seizing the
opportunity while the Athenians were occupied with measures for their
own safety, they made a treacherous attempt to gain possession of the
town.

On a dark and moonless night in the early spring three hundred armed
Thebans appeared before the gates of Plataea, which were opened to
them by a party of the citizens who favoured their design. Marching in
a body to the market-place, they made proclamation by a herald,
inviting all who chose to return to their allegiance, and take sides
with their lawful leaders, the Thebans. For they wished, if possible,
to gain over the place without bloodshed, and before the war had
actually broken out; otherwise, they might have to give it up again on
the conclusion of peace.

The Plataeans, being wakened out of their first sleep, and thinking
that the Thebans were in much greater force than was really the case,
at first attempted no resistance, but were disposed to accept the
terms offered them. But perceiving by degrees that their enemies were
far weaker in numbers than themselves, they changed their minds, and
resolved to attack them. For the party which had betrayed the town was
but small, and the general body of the citizens detested the thought
of falling once more under the supremacy of Thebes. Their measures
were taken with great secrecy and despatch: to avoid exciting the
suspicions of the Thebans, they broke down the dividing walls of their
houses, and passed to and fro unobserved, until they had completed
their preparations. To embarrass the movements of the Thebans, they
barricaded the streets with waggons, and then, just before daybreak,
they poured out of their houses, and fell upon the enemy, who were
still stationed in the market-place. Though taken by surprise, the
Thebans defended themselves stoutly, and standing shoulder to shoulder
repulsed the assault of the Plataeans two or three times. But they
were greatly inferior in numbers, wearied by their long vigil, and
soaked with the heavy rain which had fallen in the night; the
Plataeans returned again and again to the attack, assailing them with
furious cries; and the women and slaves who crowded the roofs added to
their discomfiture, pelting them with tiles and stones, and stunning
their ears with a frightful uproar of yells and shrieks; so that at
last their hearts failed them, and breaking their ranks they fled
wildly through the streets. Some succeeded in reaching the gate by
which they had entered, but only to find that their escape was cut off
in this direction; for one of the Plataeans had closed the gate, using
the spike of his javelin to secure the bolt. Others lost their way in
the narrow and muddy streets, and wandered up and down until they were
slain by the Plataeans. A few contrived to escape by an unguarded
postern-gate, having cut through the bolt with an axe given them by a
woman. Others, in despair, flung themselves from the walls, and for
the most part perished. But a good number, who had kept together, were
caught in a trap; for coming to a large building which abutted on the
wall, and finding the doors open, they thought that they had reached
the town-gate, and rushed headlong in. The pursuers, who were close at
their heels, made fast the doors, and then the question arose what
they should do with their captives. Some proposed to set fire to the
building, and to burn it down, with the Thebans in it; but at last
those who were thus taken, and the few who were still straggling in
the town, were allowed to surrender at discretion.

Meanwhile a strong reinforcement of Thebans, who had started after the
three hundred, were on the way to Plataea; but being delayed by the
state of the roads, and the swollen condition of the Asopus, which
they had to cross, they arrived too late. Being informed of what had
happened, they prepared to plunder the property of the Plataeans
outside the walls, and seize any of the citizens who crossed their
path, to serve as hostages for their own men in the town. The
Plataeans, perceiving their intention, sent a herald to remonstrate,
threatening that unless they desisted, all the Theban prisoners should
at once be put to death. And they promised further, under an oath,
that if the Thebans would withdraw their forces, the captives should
be restored--at least this was the account which was afterwards
current at Thebes, though the Plataeans denied that they had made any
such promise unconditionally, and declared that they had sworn no
oath. It seems probable that the Thebans had received some such
explicit assurance as they asserted; for, on receiving the answer from
Plataea, they marched away without doing any harm. No sooner were they
gone than the Plataeans made all haste to get their property within
the walls, and then put all their prisoners to death. The day was not
far distant when they were bitterly to rue this act of passion, which
was not only cruel, but grossly impolitic; for the Thebans thus slain
in cold blood, a hundred and eighty in number, would have been
invaluable as hostages, whereas the Plataeans had now cut themselves
off from all hope of reconciliation with Thebes, and virtually sealed
their own fate.

Two messengers had been despatched from Plataea to Athens, one after
the first entrance of the Thebans, and the second after their defeat
and capture; and the Athenians, on receiving the second message, sent
off a herald bidding the Plataeans to wait for further instructions,
before taking any steps against the prisoners. When the herald
arrived, he found the men already slain, and the Athenians then
proceeded to place the town in a state of defence, removing the women
and children and all those who were unfit for military service, to
Athens, and leaving a small body of their own citizens to direct
operations.

II

The surprise of Plataea was the first open violation of the Thirty
Years' Truce, and from this time forward all Greece was involved for
many years in civil war. Public opinion was strongly on the side of
the Spartans, who stood forward as champions of the liberties of
Greece; but there was great enthusiasm on both sides, and the popular
imagination was much excited by the approaching struggle between the
two imperial cities. Both in Sparta and in Athens there was a younger
generation, who had grown up during a long period of peace, and now
entered gaily into the contest with all the light-hearted ignorance of
youth. Old prophecies current among the people, foretelling a great
war of Greeks against Greeks, passed from mouth to mouth, and the
professional soothsayers, whose business it was to collect and expound
such sayings, found eager hearers. The gods themselves could not be
indifferent on the eve of such mighty events, so deeply affecting the
destiny of the nation which worshipped them in a thousand temples; and
an earthquake, which had recently occurred at Delos, the sacred island
of Apollo, where such a visitation had never been known before, was
interpreted as a portent of great things to come.

While the Peloponnesians were mustering their forces at the Isthmus,
the rural population of Attica were breaking up their homes, and
flocking by thousands into the city. A constant stream of waggons
passed along the roads, loaded with furniture, household utensils, and
even the woodwork of the farm-buildings; and many a little group of
women, children, and servants set out on that sorrowful journey,
leaving their fields, their gardens, and their vineyards, to be
trampled down and laid waste by the ruthless invader. Athens, indeed,
was the common mother of them all, their glory, their strength, and
their pride; for since the days of Theseus the scattered rural
communities of Attica had been united under the Aegis of Athene, and
acknowledged Athens as the head and centre of their civic life. But a
large proportion of the Athenian citizens still continued to reside in
the country, and all their dearest associations were connected with
the little spot of earth where they and their fathers were born. Here
were the graves of their ancestors, and the temples of the heroes who
were the guardian spirits of each little aggregate of families. It was
therefore with bitter and resentful feelings that they left these
happy scenes behind them, and turned their steps towards the gates of
the city, through which many of them were never to pass again. For all
of them it was a grievous change from the free and careless life of
the country-side to the confined space, polluted air, and jostling
multitudes of the town, now crowded to overflowing. Some few found
shelter in the houses of friends or relations; but by far the greater
number were obliged to encamp in the open spaces of the city, in the
precincts of temples, or in the narrow room between the Long Walls.
Even a place beneath the Acropolis, called the Pelasgic Field, was now
covered with the huts of the immigrants, though an ancient oracle had
forbidden its occupation under a curse. From day to day new crowds
kept flocking in, and the later comers were obliged to take up their
dwelling in Peiraeus, which was soon almost as much overcrowded as the
upper city.

And now the younger generation of Athenians, who had entered so
cheerfully into the conflict, were to have their first taste of the
grim realities of war. The Peloponnesian army advanced leisurely, and
proceeded at first to Oenoe, an outlying fort near the borders of
Boeotia; for Archidamus, who held the chief command, still hoped that
the Athenians, when they saw the enemy on the confines of Attica,
would make some concessions, to save their farms from destruction. For
this reason he had long delayed his march from the Isthmus, and now
wasted more time in fruitless operations at Oenoe, until the allies
began to murmur against him, and suspected him of receiving bribes
from the Athenians to spare their lands. At last, being unable to put
off the fatal moment any longer, he turned southwards, and after
ravaging the plain of Eleusis, advanced to Acharnae, one of the most
fertile and prosperous districts of Attica, about seven miles north of
Athens. Here the Peloponnesians encamped, and applied themselves
systematically to the work of pillage and havoc.

Great was the rage of the Acharnians, a hardy race of farmers and
charcoal-burners, when they saw the smoke rising from their ruined
homesteads; and their feelings were shared by the general body of the
citizens, who had watched the advance of Archidamus from Eleusis, and
had now no hope of saving their estates. Little knots of angry
disputants were seen in the streets and public places, for the most
part clamouring against Pericles, and demanding to be led against the
invader, while some few argued for the more prudent course. But
Pericles, who knew the fickle temper of the multitude, turned a deaf
ear to all this uproar, and steadily refused to summon an assembly,
lest some hasty resolution should be passed, which would lead to
useless loss of life. In order, however, to relieve the public
excitement, he sent out a body of horsemen to skirmish with the enemy,
and despatched a fleet of a hundred triremes to ravage the coasts of
Peloponnesus.

When the first invasion of Attica was over, two cities, which had been
foremost in stirring up war against Athens, were made to feel the full
weight of her resentment. The unhappy Aeginetans were expelled from
their island, and the land of Aegina was distributed among Athenian
citizens. And later in the same summer the Athenians marched in full
force into the territory of Megara, which was laid waste from end to
end. This proceeding, which afforded a pleasant summer excursion to
the Athenians, was repeated annually for the next seven years. The
banished Aeginetans found an asylum at Thyrea, a coast district of
eastern Peloponnesus, which was assigned to them by Sparta. And so the
first year of the war came to an end; for, except on extraordinary
occasions, no military operations were undertaken during the winter.

THE PLAGUE AT ATHENS

I

At the beginning of the next summer the Peloponnesians again entered
Attica, and resumed their work of devastation, destroying the young
crops, and wrecking whatever had been spared in the previous year.
Before they had been many days in Attica, a new and far more terrible
visitation came upon the Athenians, threatening them with total
extinction as a people. We have seen how the whole upper city, with
the space between the Long Walls, and the harbour-town of Peiraeus,
was packed with a vast multitude of human beings, penned together,
like sheep in a fold. Into these huddled masses now crept a subtle and
unseen foe, striking down his victims by hundreds and by thousands.
That foe was the Plague, which beginning in Southern Africa, and
descending thence to Egypt, reached the southern shores of the
Mediterranean, and passed on to Peiraeus, having been carried thither
by seamen who trafficked between northern Africa and Greece. From
Peiraeus it spread upwards with rapid strides, and before long the
whole space within the walls presented the appearance of a vast lazar-
house.

From the description of the symptoms we may conclude that this
epidemic was similar to that dreadful scourge of mankind which has
been almost conquered by modern science, the small-pox. The patient
who had taken the infection was first attacked in the head, with
inflammation of the eyes, and violent headache. By degrees the poison
worked its way into the whole system, affecting every organ in the
body, and appearing on the surface in the shape of small ulcers and
boils. One of the most distressing features of the disease was a
raging thirst, which could not be appeased by the most copious
draughts of water; and the internal heat, which produced this effect,
caused also a frightful irritability of the skin, so that the sufferer
could not bear the touch of the lightest and most airy fabrics, but
lay naked on his bed, in all the deformity of his dire affliction. Of
those who recovered, many bore the marks of the sickness to their
graves, by the loss of a hand, a foot, or an eye; while others were
affected in their minds, remaining in blank oblivion, without power to
recognise themselves or their friends. The healing art had made great
progress in Greece in the course of the last generation; and in this,
as in all else, the Greeks remained the sole teachers of Europe for
ages after. But against such a malady as this, the most skilful
physicians could do nothing, and those who attempted to exercise their
skill caught the plague themselves, and for the most part perished.
Still less, as we may well suppose, was the benefit derived from
amulets, incantations, inquiries of oracles, or supplications at
temples; and at last, finding no help in god or man, the Athenians
gave up the struggle, and resigned themselves to despair.

It is recorded as a curious fact, showing the strange and outlandish
character of the pestilence, that the birds and animals which feed on
human flesh generally shunned the bodies of those who died of the
plague, though they might have eaten their fill, for hundreds were
left unburied. The very vultures fled from the infected city, and
hardly one was seen as long as the pestilence continued.

The fearful rapidity with which the infection spread caused a panic
throughout the city, and even the boldest were not proof against the
general terror. If any man felt himself sickening of the plague, he at
once gave up all hope, and made no effort to fight against the
disease. Few were found brave enough to undertake the duty of nursing
the sick, and those who did generally paid for their devotion with
their lives. In most cases the patient was left to languish alone, and
perished by neglect, while his nearest and dearest avoided his
presence, and had grown so callous that they had not a sigh or a tear
left for the death of husband, or child, or friend. The few who
recovered, now free from risk of mortal infection, did what they could
to help their suffering fellow-citizens.

The mischief was aggravated by the overcrowded state of the city,
especially among those who had come in from the country, and were
living in stifling huts through the intense heat of a southern summer.
Here the harvest of death fell thickest, and the corpses lay heaped
together, while dying wretches crawled about the public streets, and
encumbered the fountain-sides, to which they had dragged themselves in
their longing for drink. All sense of public decency, all regard for
laws, human or divine, was lost. The temples in which they had made
their dwellings were choked with dead, and the sacred duty of burial,
to which the conscience of antiquity attached so high an importance,
was performed in wild haste and disorder. Sometimes those who were
carrying out a corpse found a vacant pile prepared by the relatives of
another victim, flung their dead upon it, set fire to the pile, and
departed; and sometimes, when a body was already burning, others who
were seeking to dispose of a corpse forced their way to the fire, and
threw their burden upon it.

In the general relaxation of public morality all the dark passions of
human nature, which at ordinary times lurk in secret places, came
forth to the light of day, and raged without restraint. Some, who had
grown rich in a day by the death of wealthy relatives, resolved to
enjoy their possessions, and indulge every appetite, before they were
overtaken by the same fate. Others, who had hitherto led good lives,
seeing the base and the noble swept away indifferently by the same
ruthless power, began to doubt the justice of heaven itself, and
rushed into debauch, convinced that conscience and honour were but
empty names. For human laws they cared still less, for in the
universal panic there was none to enforce them, and before the voice
of public authority could be heard again, both judge and transgressor,
as they believed, would be involved in a common doom. All shame and
fear were accordingly thrown aside, and those whom the plague had not
yet touched seemed possessed by one sole desire--to drown thought and
care in an orgy of fierce excess, and then to die.

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