Pausanias, the Spartan by Lord Lytton

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LYTTON.

GINTRA, _5 July, 1875_.

Notes:

[1] The late Lord Lytton, in his unpublished autobiographical memoirs,
describing his contemporaries at Cambridge, speaks of Dr. Kennedy as
"a young giant of learning."--L.

[2] Moore's "Life and Letters of Lord Byron," p. 723.

[3] Plutarch, "Life of Cimon."

[4] "Harold."

PAUSANIAS, THE SPARTAN

BOOK I.

CHAPTER I.

On one of the quays which bordered the unrivalled harbour of
Byzantium, more than twenty-three centuries before the date at which
this narrative is begun, stood two Athenians. In the waters of the
haven rode the vessels of the Grecian Fleet. So deep was the basin, in
which the tides are scarcely felt,[5] that the prows of some of the
ships touched the quays, and the setting sun glittered upon the smooth
and waxen surfaces of the prows rich with diversified colours and
wrought gilding. To the extreme right of the fleet, and nearly
opposite the place upon which the Athenians stood, was a vessel still
more profusely ornamented than the rest. On the prow were elaborately
carved the heads of the twin deities of the Laconian mariner, Castor
and Pollux; in the centre of the deck was a wooden edifice or pavilion
having a gilded roof and shaded by purple awnings, an imitation of the
luxurious galleys of the Barbarian; while the parasemon, or flag, as
it idly waved in the faint breeze of the gentle evening, exhibited the
terrible serpent, which, if it was the fabulous type of demigods and
heroes, might also be regarded as an emblem of the wily but stern
policy of the Spartan State. Such was the galley of the commander of
the armament, which (after the reduction of Cyprus) had but lately
wrested from the yoke of Persia that link between her European and
Asiatic domains, that key of the Bosporus--"the Golden Horn" of
Byzantium.[6]

High above all other Greeks (Themistocles alone excepted) soared the
fame of that renowned chief, Pausanias, Regent of Sparta and General
of the allied troops at the victorious battle-field of Plataea. The
spot on which the Athenians stood was lonely and now unoccupied, save
by themselves and the sentries stationed at some distance on either
hand. The larger proportion of the crews in the various vessels were
on shore; but on the decks idly reclined small groups of sailors, and
the murmur of their voices stole, indistinguishably blended, upon the
translucent air. Behind rose, one above the other, the Seven Hills, on
which long afterwards the Emperor Constantine built a second Rome; and
over these heights, even then, buildings were scattered of various
forms and dates, here the pillared temples of the Greek colonists,
to whom Byzantium owed its origin, there the light roofs and painted
domes which the Eastern conquerors had introduced.

One of the Athenians was a man in the meridian of manhood, of a calm,
sedate, but somewhat haughty aspect; the other was in the full bloom
of youth, of lofty stature, and with a certain majesty of bearing;
down his shoulders flowed a profusion of long curled hair, divided in
the centre of the forehead, and connected with golden clasps, in which
was wrought the emblem of the Athenian nobles--the Grasshopper--a
fashion not yet obsolete, as it had become in the days of Thucydides.
Still, to an observer, there was something heavy in the ordinary
expression of the handsome countenance. His dress differed from the
earlier fashion of the Ionians;[7] it dispensed with those loose linen
garments which had something of effeminacy in their folds, and was
confined to the simple and statue-like grace that characterised the
Dorian garb. Yet the clasp that fastened the chlamys upon the right
shoulder, leaving the arm free, was of pure gold and exquisite
workmanship, and the materials of the simple vesture were of a quality
that betokened wealth and rank in the wearer.

"Yes, Cimon," said the elder of the Athenians, "yonder galley itself
affords sufficient testimony of the change that has come over the
haughty Spartan. It is difficult, indeed, to recognize in this
luxurious satrap, who affects the dress, the manners, the very
insolence of the Barbarian, that Pausanias who, after the glorious day
of Plataea, ordered the slaves to prepare in the tent of Mardonius
such a banquet as would have been served to the Persian, while his own
Spartan broth and bread were set beside it, in order that he might
utter to the chiefs of Greece that noble pleasantry, 'Behold the
folly of the Persians, who forsook such splendour to plunder such
poverty.'"[8]

"Shame upon his degeneracy, and thrice shame!" said the young Cimon,
sternly. "I love the Spartans so well, that I blush for whatever
degrades them. And all Sparta is dwarfed by the effeminacy of her
chief."

"Softly, Cimon," said Aristides, with a sober smile. "Whatever
surprise we may feel at the corruption of Pausanias, he is not one who
will allow us to feel contempt. Through all the voluptuous softness
acquired by intercourse with these Barbarians, the strong nature of
the descendant of the demigod still breaks forth. Even at the distaff
I recognize Alcides, whether for evil or for good. Pausanias is one on
whom our most anxious gaze must be duly bent. But in this change of
his I rejoice; the gods are at work for Athens. See you not that,
day after day, while Pausanias disgusts the allies with the Spartans
themselves, he throws them more and more into the arms of Athens? Let
his madness go on, and ere long the violet-crowned city will become
the queen of the seas."

"Such was my own hope," said Cimon, his face assuming a new
expression, brightened with all the intelligence of ambition and
pride; "but I did not dare own it to myself till you spoke. Several
officers of Ionia and the Isles have already openly and loudly
proclaimed to me their wish to exchange the Spartan ascendancy for the
Athenian."

"And with all your love for Sparta," said Aristides, looking
steadfastly and searchingly at his comrade, "you would not then
hesitate to rob her of a glory which you might bestow on your own
Athens?"

"Ah, am I not Athenian?" answered Cimon, with a deep passion in his
voice. "Though my great father perished a victim to the injustice of
a faction--though he who had saved Athens from the Mede died in the
Athenian dungeon--still, fatherless, I see in Athens but a mother, and
if her voice sounded harshly in my boyish years, in manhood I have
feasted on her smiles. Yes, I honour Sparta, but I love Athens. You
have my answer."

"You speak well," said Aristides, with warmth; "you are worthy of the
destinies for which I foresee that the son of Miltiades is reserved.
Be wary, be cautious; above all, be smooth, and blend with men of
every state and grade. I would wish that the allies themselves should
draw the contrast between the insolence of the Spartan chief and the
courtesy of the Athenians. What said you to the Ionian officers?"

"I said that Athens held there was no difference between to command
and to obey, except so far as was best for the interests of Greece;
that--as on the field of Plataea, when the Tegeans asserted precedence
over the Athenians, we, the Athenian army, at once exclaimed, through
your voice, Aristides, 'We come here to fight the Barbarian, not to
dispute amongst ourselves; place us where you will'[9]:--even so now,
while the allies give the command to Sparta, Sparta we will obey. But
if we were thought by the Grecian States the fittest leaders, our
answer would be the same that we gave at Plataea, 'Not we, but Greece
be consulted: place us where you will!'"

"O wise Cimon!" exclaimed Aristides, "I have no caution to bestow on
you. You do by intuition that which I attempt by experience. But hark!
What music sounds in the distance? the airs that Lydia borrowed from
the East?"

"And for which," said Cimon, sarcastically, "Pausanias hath abandoned
the Dorian flute."

Soft, airy, and voluptuous were indeed the sounds which now, from the
streets leading upwards from the quay, floated along the delicious
air. The sailors rose, listening and eager, from the decks; there was
once more bustle, life, and animation on board the fleet. From several
of the vessels the trumpets woke a sonorous signal-note. In a few
minutes the quays, before so deserted, swarmed with the Grecian
mariners, who emerged hastily, whether from various houses in the
haven, or from the encampment which stretched along it, and hurried
to their respective ships. On board the galley of Pausanias there was
more especial animation; not only mariners, but slaves, evidently
from the Eastern markets, were seen, jostling each other, and heard
talking, quick and loud, in foreign tongues. Rich carpets were
unfurled and laid across the deck, while trembling and hasty hands
smoothed into yet more graceful folds the curtains that shaded the
gay pavilion in the centre. The Athenians looked on, the one with
thoughtful composure, the other with a bitter smile, while these
preparations announced the unexpected, and not undreaded, approach of
the great Pausanias.

"Ho, noble Cimon!" cried a young man who, hurrying towards one of the
vessels, caught sight of the Athenians and paused. "You are the very
person whom I most desired to see. Aristides too!--we are fortunate."

The speaker was a young man of slighter make and lower stature
than the Athenians, but well shaped, and with features the partial
effeminacy of which was elevated by an expression of great vivacity
and intelligence. The steed trained for Elis never bore in its
proportions the evidence of blood and rare breeding more visibly than
the dark brilliant eye of this young man, his broad low transparent
brow, expanded nostril and sensitive lip, revealed the passionate
and somewhat arrogant character of the vivacious Greek of the Aegean
Isles.

"Antagoras," replied Cimon, laying his hand with frank and somewhat
blunt cordiality on the Greek's shoulder, "like the grape of your own
Chios, you cannot fail to be welcome at all times. But why would you
seek us now ?"

"Because I will no longer endure the insolence of this rude Spartan.
Will you believe it, Cimon--will you believe it, Aristides? Pausanias
has actually dared to sentence to blows, to stripes, one of my own
men--a free Chian--nay, a Decadarchus.[10] I have but this instant
heard it. And the offence--Gods! the _offence!_--was that he ventured
to contest with a Laconian, an underling in the Spartan army, which
one of the two had the fair right to a wine cask! Shall this be borne,
Cimon?"

"Stripes to a Greek!" said Cimon. and the colour mounted to his brow.
"Thinks Pausanias that the Ionian race are already his Helots?"

"Be calm," said Aristides; "Pausanias approaches. I will accost him."

"But listen still!" exclaimed Antagoras eagerly, plucking the gown of
the Athenian as the latter turned away. "When Pausanias heard of the
contest between my soldier and his Laconian, what said he, think you?
'Prior claim; learn henceforth that, where the Spartans are to be
found, the Spartans in all matters have the prior claim.'"

"We will see to it," returned Aristides, calmly; "but keep by my
side."

And now the music sounded loud and near, and suddenly, as the
procession approached, the character of that music altered. The Lydian
measures ceased, those who had attuned them gave way to musicians of
loftier aspect and simpler garb; in whom might be recognized, not indeed
the genuine Spartans, but their free, if subordinate, countrymen of
Laconia; and a minstrel, who walked beside them, broke out into a song,
partially adapted from the bold and lively strain of Alcaeus, the first
two lines in each stanza ringing much to that chime, the two latter
reduced into briefer compass, as, with allowance for the differing laws
of national rhythm, we thus seek to render the verse:

SONG.

Multitudes, backward! Way for the Dorian;
Way for the Lord of rocky Laconia;
Heaven to Hercules opened
Way on the earth for his son.

Steel and fate, blunted, break on his fortitude;
Two evils only never endureth he--
Death by a wound in retreating,
Life with a blot on his name.

Rocky his birthplace; rocks are immutable;
So are his laws, and so shall his glory be.
Time is the Victor of Nations,
Sparta the Victor of Time.

Watch o'er him heedful on the wide ocean,
Brothers of Helen, luminous guiding stars;
Dangerous to Truth are the fickle,
Dangerous to Sparta the seas.

Multitudes, backward! Way for the Conqueror;
Way for the footstep half the world fled before;
Nothing that Phoebus can shine on
Needs so much space as Renown.

Behind the musicians came ten Spartans, selected from the celebrated
three hundred who claimed the right to be stationed around the king
in battle. Tall, stalwart, sheathed in armour, their shields slung at
their backs, their crests of plumage or horsehair waving over their
strong and stern features, these hardy warriors betrayed to the keen
eye of Aristides their sullen discontent at the part assigned to
them in the luxurious procession; their brows were knit, their lips
contracted, and each of them who caught the glance of the Athenians,
turned his eyes, as half in shame, half in anger, to the ground.

Coming now upon the quay, opposite to the galley of Pausanias, from
which was suspended a ladder of silken cords, the procession halted,
and opening on either side, left space in the midst for the commander.

"He comes," whispered Antagoras to Cimon. "By Hercules! I pray you
survey him well. Is it the conqueror of Mardonius, or the ghost of
Mardonius himself?"

The question of the Chian seemed not extravagant to the blunt son of
Miltiades, as his eyes now rested on Pausanias.

The pure Spartan race boasted, perhaps, the most superb models of
masculine beauty which the land blessed by Apollo could afford. The
laws that regulate marriage ensured a healthful and vigorous progeny.
Gymnastic discipline from early boyhood gave ease to the limbs, iron
to the muscle, grace to the whole frame. Every Spartan, being born to
command, being noble by his birth, lord of the Laconians, Master of
the Helots, superior in the eyes of Greece to all other Greeks, was at
once a Republican and an Aristocrat. Schooled in the arts that compose
the presence, and give calmness and majesty to the bearing, he
combined with the mere physical advantages of activity and strength a
conscious and yet natural dignity of mien. Amidst the Greeks assembled
at the Olympian contests, others showed richer garments, more
sumptuous chariots, rarer steeds, but no state could vie with Sparta
in the thews and sinews, the aspect and the majesty of the men.
Nor were the royal race, the descendants of Hercules, in external
appearance unworthy of their countrymen and of their fabled origin.

Sculptor and painter would have vainly tasked their imaginative minds
to invent a nobler ideal for the effigies of a hero, than that which
the Victor of Plataea offered to their inspiration. As he now paused
amidst the group, he towered high above them all, even above Cimon
himself. But in his stature there was nothing of the cumbrous bulk and
stolid heaviness, which often destroy the beauty of vast strength.
Severe and early training, long habits of rigid abstemiousness, the
toils of war, and, more than all, perhaps, the constant play of
a restless, anxious, aspiring temper, had left, undisfigured by
superfluous flesh, the grand proportions of a frame, the very
spareness of which had at once the strength and the beauty of one of
those hardy victors in the wrestling or boxing match, whose agility
and force are modelled by discipline to the purest forms of grace.
Without that exact and chiselled harmony of countenance which
characterised perhaps the Ionic rather than the Doric race, the
features of the royal Spartan were noble and commanding. His
complexion was sunburnt, almost to oriental swarthiness, and the
raven's plume had no darker gloss than that of his long hair, which
(contrary to the Spartan custom), flowing on either side, mingled
with the closer curls of the beard. To a scrutinizing gaze, the more
dignified and prepossessing effect of this exterior would perhaps have
been counterbalanced by an eye, bright indeed and penetrating, but
restless and suspicious, by a certain ineffable mixture of arrogant
pride and profound melancholy in the general expression of the
countenance, ill according with that frank and serene aspect which
best becomes the face of one who would lead mankind. About him
altogether--the countenance, the form, the bearing--there was that
which woke a vague, profound, and singular interest, an interest
somewhat mingled with awe, but not altogether uncalculated to produce
that affection which belongs to admiration, save when the sudden frown
or disdainful lip repelled the gentler impulse and tended rather to
excite fear, or to irritate pride, or to wound self-love.

But if the form and features of Pausanias were eminently those of
the purest race of Greece, the dress which he assumed was no less
characteristic of the Barbarian. He wore, not the garb of the noble
Persian race, which, close and simple, was but a little less manly
than that of the Greeks, but the flowing and gorgeous garments of the
Mede. His long gown, which swept the earth, was covered with flowers
wrought in golden tissue. Instead of the Spartan hat, the high Median
cap or tiara crowned his perfumed and lustrous hair, while (what
of all was most hateful to Grecian eyes) he wore, though otherwise
unarmed, the curved scimitar and short dirk that were the national
weapons of the Barbarian. And as it was not customary, nor indeed
legitimate, for the Greeks to wear weapons on peaceful occasions
and with their ordinary costume, so this departure from the common
practice had not only in itself something offensive to the jealous
eyes of his comrades, but was rendered yet more obnoxious by the
adoption of the very arms of the East.

By the side of Pausanias was a man whose dark beard was already sown
with grey. This man, named Gongylus, though a Greek--a native of
Eretria, in Euboea--was in high command under the great Persian king.
At the time of the barbarian invasion under Datis and Artaphernes,
he had deserted the cause of Greece and had been rewarded with the
lordship of four towns in Aeolis. Few among the apostate Greeks were
more deeply instructed in the language and manners of the Persians;
and the intimate and sudden friendship that had grown up between him
and the Spartan was regarded by the Greeks with the most bitter and
angry suspicion. As if to show his contempt for the natural jealousy
of his countrymen, Pausanias, however, had just given to the Eretrian
the government of Byzantium itself, and with the command of the
citadel had entrusted to him the custody of the Persian prisoners
captured in that port. Among these were men of the highest rank and
influence at the court of Xerxes; and it was more than rumoured that
of late Pausanias had visited and conferred with them, through the
interpretation of Gongylus, far more frequently than became the
General of the Greeks. Gongylus had one of those countenances which
are observed when many of more striking semblance are overlooked.
But the features were sharp and the visage lean, the eyes vivid and
sparkling as those of the lynx, and the dark pupil seemed yet more
dark from the extreme whiteness of the ball, from which it lessened or
dilated with the impulse of the spirit which gave it fire. There was
in that eye all the subtle craft, the plotting and restless malignity
which usually characterised those Greek renegades who prostituted
their native energies to the rich service of the Barbarian; and the
lips, narrow and thin, wore that everlasting smile which to the
credulous disguises wile, and to the experienced betrays it. Small,
spare, and prematurely bent, the Eretrian supported himself by a
staff, upon which now leaning, he glanced, quickly and pryingly,
around, till his eyes rested upon the Athenians, with the young Chian
standing in their rear.

"The Athenian Captains are here to do you homage, Pausanias," said he
in a whisper, as he touched with his small lean fingers the arm of the
Spartan.

Pausanias turned and muttered to himself, and at that instant
Aristides approached.

"If it please you, Pausanias, Cimon and myself, the leaders of the
Athenians, would crave a hearing upon certain matters."

"Son of Lysimachus, say on."

"Your pardon, Pausanias," returned the Athenian, lowering his voice,
and with a smile--"This is too crowded a council-hall; may we attend
you on board your galley?"

"Not so," answered the Spartan haughtily; "the morning to affairs, the
evening to recreation. We shall sail in the bay to see the moon rise,
and if we indulge in consultations, it will be over our winecups. It
is a good custom."

"It is a Persian one," said Cimon bluntly.

"It is permitted to us," returned the Spartan coldly, "to borrow from
those we conquer. But enough of this. I have no secrets with the
Athenians. No matter if the whole city hear what you would address to
Pausanias."

"It is to complain," said Aristides with calm emphasis, but still in
an undertone.

"Ay, I doubt it not: the Athenians are eloquent in grumbling."

"It was not found so at Plataea," returned Cimon.

"Son of Miltiades," said Pausanias loftily, "your wit outruns your
experience. But my time is short. To the matter!"

"If you will have it so, I will speak," said Aristides, raising his
voice. "Before your own Spartans, our comrades in arms, I proclaim our
causes of complaint. Firstly, then, I demand release and compensation
to seven Athenians, free-born and citizens, whom your orders have
condemned to the unworthy punishment of standing all day in the open
sun with the weight of iron anchors on their shoulders."

"The mutinous knaves!" exclaimed the Spartan. "They introduced into
the camp the insolence of their own agora, and were publicly heard in
the streets inveighing against myself as a favourer of the Persians."

"It was easy to confute the charge; it was tyrannical to punish words
in men whose deeds had raised you to the command of Greece."

"_Their_ deeds! Ye Gods, give me patience! By the help of Juno the
protectress it was this brain and this arm that--But I will not
justify myself by imitating the Athenian fashion of wordy boasting.
Pass on to your next complaint."

"You have placed slaves--yes, Helots--around the springs, to drive
away with scourges the soldiers that come for water."

"Not so, but merely to prevent others from filling their vases until
the Spartans are supplied."

"And by what right--?" began Cimon, but Aristides checked him with a
gesture, and proceeded.

"That precedence is not warranted by custom, nor by the terms of
our alliance; and the springs, O Pausanias, are bounteous enough to
provide for all. I proceed. You have formally sentenced citizens and
soldiers to the scourge. Nay, this very day you have extended the
sentence to one in actual command amongst the Chians. Is it not so,
Antagoras?"

"It is," said the young Chian, coming forward boldly; "and in the name
of my countrymen I demand justice."

"And I also, Uliades of Samos," said a thickset and burly Greek who
had joined the group unobserved, "_I_ demand justice. What, by the
Gods! Are we to be all equals in the day of battle? 'My good sir,
march here;' and, 'My dear sir, just run into that breach;' and yet
when we have won the victory and should share the glory, is one state,
nay, one man to seize the whole, and deal out iron anchors and tough
cowhides to his companions? No, Spartans, this is not your view of the
case; you suffer in the eyes of Greece by this misconduct. To Sparta
itself I appeal."

"And what, most patient sir," said Pausanias, with calm sarcasm,
though his eye shot fire, and the upper lip, on which no Spartan
suffered the beard to grow, slightly quivered--"what is your
contribution to the catalogue of complaints?"

"Jest not, Pausanias; you will find me in earnest," answered Uliades,
doggedly, and encouraged by the evident effect that his eloquence had
produced upon the Spartans themselves. "I have met with a grievous
wrong, and all Greece shall hear of it, if it be not redressed. My own
brother, who at Mycale slew four Persians with his own hand, headed a
detachment for forage. He and his men were met by a company of mixed
Laconians and Helots, their forage taken from them, they themselves
assaulted, and my brother, a man who has monies and maintains forty
slaves of his own, struck thrice across the face by a rascally Helot.
Now, Pausanias, your answer!"

"You have prepared a notable scene for the commander of your forces,
son of Lysimachus," said the Spartan, addressing himself to Aristides.
"Far be it from me to affect the Agamemnon, but your friends are less
modest in imitating the venerable model of Thersites. Enough" (and
changing the tone of his voice, the chief stamped his foot vehemently
to the ground): "we owe no account to our inferiors; we render no
explanation save to Sparta and her Ephors."

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