Read Ebook: Callias: A Tale of the Fall of Athens by Church Alfred John

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hat this idea does not commend itself to me, and let me give you a bit of advice: do your best to make peace in your city, as I shall do my best to make peace in Greece. Depend upon it, that if we don't, we shall have some one coming down upon us from outside. It may be the Persian, though he does not seem to me to have improved as a soldier; it may be the Macedonian, who is a sturdy fellow, and helps us already to fight our battles. Whoever it is he will find us helpless with an endless quarrel and will make short work with us. And now good night."

Hippocles left the Spartan admiral full of admiration for his manly and patriotic temper, and not at all pleased that he had been obliged to play a false part with a man so transparently honest.

FOOTNOTES:

The instances in which a Spartan general sent to fill some office abroad seemed to lose all self-restraint and all sense of shame are deplorably numerous. Pausanias, the Spartan who commanded at Plataea, and was afterwards banished for treacherous dealings with the Persians, was the first conspicuous example of this national failing, as it may be called; but it was an example often followed. The Spartan governors in allied or conquered cities were almost proverbial for profligacy, tyranny and corruption.

A seaman was paid four obols a day, the rate having been increased by the liberality of Cyrus from three to four. Five obols went to the drachma, and a hundred drachmas to the mina.

This was the prince commonly called the younger Cyrus, the second of the two sons of Darius Nothus, King of Persia, by his Queen Parysatis. He had come down about a year and a half before the time of which I am writing to take the government of a large portion of Asia Minor, viz: Lydia, Phrygia, and Cappadocia. He was strongly pro-Spartan in his views, and as has been explained in a previous note, had increased the rate furnished by the Persian treasury to the Spartan fleet. But Lysander, in his anger at being suspended in the command, had, with the selfishness, characteristic of Spartan officers, paid back to Cyrus all the money that had been furnished for the pay of the sailors.

ARGINUSAE.

At Athens, meanwhile, the relieving fleet was being fitted out with a feverish energy such as had never been witnessed within the memory of man. Nine years before, indeed, preparations on a larger scale, if cost and magnificence are to be taken into account, had been made for the disastrous expedition against Syracuse; but there was all the difference in the world between the temper of the city at the one time and at the other. Athens was at the height of her strength and her wealth when she sent out her armament, splendid, so to speak, with silver and gold, against Syracuse. It was a mighty effort, but she did it, one may almost say, out of the superfluity of her strength. Now she was sadly reduced in population and in revenue; she was struggling not for conquest but for life; she was making her last effort, and spending on it her last talent, her last man. To find a juster parallel it would have been necessary to go back a life-time, to the day when the Athenians gave up their homes and the temples of their gods to the Persian invaders, falling back on their last defences, the "wooden walls" of their ships. Many men had heard from father or grandfather, it was just possible that one or two tottering veterans may have seen with their own eyes, how on that day a band of youths, the very flower of the Athenian aristocracy, headed by Cimon, the son of Miltiades, had marched with a gay alacrity through the weeping multitude, to hang up their bridles in the temple of Athene. For the time the goddess needed not horsemen but seamen, and they gave her the service that she asked for. Now the same sight was seen again. Again the knights, the well-born and wealthy citizens of Athens, dedicated their bridles to the patron goddess, and went to serve as mariners on board the fleet. Every ship that could float was hastily repaired and equipped. Old hulks that had been lying in dock since the palmy days when the veteran Phormion led the fleet of Athens to certain victory, were launched again and manned. In this way the almost unprecedented number of one hundred and ten triremes were got ready. To man these a general levy of the population was made. Every one within the age of service not actually disabled by sickness, was taken to form the crews, and not a few who had passed the limit volunteered. Even then the quota had to be made up by slaves, who were promised their freedom in return for their services. It was a stupendous effort, and one which Athens made with her own strength. These were not mercenaries, but her own sons whom she was sending out to make their last struggle for life. Night and day the preparations were carried on, and before a month was out from the day on which the tidings of the disaster at Mitylene reached the city, the fleet was ready to sail. Its destination was Samos, an island that had remained faithful to Athens even after the disastrous end of the war in Sicily. Here it was joined by a contingent of forty ships, made up of the same squadron scattered about the AEgean, the two triremes of Diomedon being among them. Diomedon was related to Callias, and the young man asked and obtained leave from the captain with whom he had sailed from Athens to transfer himself to his ship.

A battle was imminent. The Spartan admiral had left fifty ships to maintain the blockade of Mitylene, and sailed to meet the relieving force. His numbers were inferior, but pride, and perhaps policy, forbade him to decline the combat. He had made a haughty boast to Conon, and he had to make it good. "The sea is Sparta's bride," he had said. "I will stop your insults to her." His fleet was now off Cape Malta, the south-eastern promontory of Lesbos. The Athenians had taken up their position at some little islands between it and the mainland, the Arginusae, or White Cliffs, as the name may be translated, a name destined to become notable as the scene of the great city's last victory.

Callicratidas had watched the arrival of the Athenians, and had concluded that, according to the usual custom of Greek sailors, they would take their evening meal on shore. Before long the fires lighted over all the group of islets showed that he was right. His own men had supped, and they were ordered to embark in all haste and make an attack which would probably be a surprise. What success his bold and energetic action would have had we can only guess. The stars in their courses fought against him. A violent thunderstorm with heavy rain came on, and prevented him from putting to sea.

The next day was fine and calm and the two fleets were early afloat. Their arrangement and plan of action showed a curious contrast, a contrast such as was almost enough to make one of the great Athenian seamen of the past turn in his grave. The Athenian ships were massed together; the Spartans and their allies were formed in a single line. Callias, who had never before been present at a great sea-fight, but who had taken pains to acquire as much professional knowledge as he could, expressed his surprise to Diomedon. "How is this, sir?" he said, "how can our ships maneuver when they are packed together in this fashion?"

Diomedon, an old sailor who had been afloat for nearly forty years, smiled somewhat bitterly as he answered.

"Maneuver, my dear boy! That is exactly what we want to avoid. We can't do it ourselves, and we don't mean to let our enemies do it, if it can be helped. The generation that could manoeuver is gone. Five and twenty years of fighting have used it up. But, happily, we can still fight, at least such a fleet as we have got to-day, the real Athenian grit, can fight. If the weather holds fine, and I think it will for the day, though I don't quite like the looks of the sky, we shall do well, because we shall be able to keep together."

The arrangement of the Athenian line may be very briefly described. It had two strong wings, each consisting of sixty ships, formed in four squadrons of fifteen. These wings consisted wholly of Athenian galleys; the contingents of the allies were posted in the centre, and were in single line, either because they were better sailors, or because, as being directly in front of the group of islets, they were protected by their position.

The policy of the Athenian commander was successful. Arginusae was not a battle of skillful maneuvers, but of hard fighting. Such battles are often determined by the fate of the general, and so it was that day. Callicratidas, had that pride of valor which had often done such great things for Sparta and for Greece, but which some times resulted in immediate disaster. His sailing master, a man of Megara, had advised him to decline a battle. A rapid survey of the position, of the numbers of the enemy and of the tactics which they were evidently intending to pursue, had convinced this skillful, experienced seaman, that the chances were against him. Callicratidas would not listen to him. "If I perish," he said, "Sparta will not be one whit the worse off." It was the answer of a man who was as modest as he was brave; but it was not to the point. Sparta would be a great deal worse off if she lost not only him--and he was worth considering--but, as actually happened, nearly the half of her fleet.

The signal to advance was passed along the line, and the admiral himself took up his place in the foremost ship. The whole fleet could see him as he stood a conspicuous figure in the lead. His stately and chivalrous presence, the feeling that a man whom it was a privilege to follow anywhere, gave, for a time, an effective encouragement. But the loss was proportionately great when that presence was removed. Early in the day his ship endeavored to ram that which carried the Athenian admiral Diomedon, itself in the van of the opposing force. Diomedon himself was at the rudder and managed his galley with remarkable skill. He avoided or rather half avoided the blow of the enemy's boat, and this in such a way that the Spartan admiral lost his balance, and fell into the water. Callias, who was standing on the rear of the Athenian galley, at the head of a detachment of men ready either to board or to repel boarders, endeavored to save him; but the weight of his armor was fatal. He sank almost instantaneously. His death, it is easy to believe, cost Athens even more than it cost Sparta. It would have been infinitely better for her to fall into his hands than to have to sue for terms, as she did not many months afterwards, to the less generous Lysander.

FOOTNOTES:

Phormion won some brilliant victories in the Corinthian gulf in the early years of the war. He died prematurely, it would seem about 429 B. C.

The number of triremes contributed by Athens to the Greek fleet of Salamis was one hundred and eighty, but this comprised, of course, literally every ship that they possessed. In the expedition against Syracuse, the triremes numbered one hundred and thirty-four.

Diomedon was the officer in command of Samos, and had already attempted with the twelve ships that composed his squadron, to relieve Conon. His force was so inferior to that of the Spartans that he could only have hoped to succeed by eluding their observations. Accordingly he had avoided the harbors and endeavored to make his way up a narrow channel, known by the common name of "Euripus" by which Mitylene could be approached. Callicratidas, however, had discovered the maneuver and captured ten out of the twelve ships.

AFTER THE FIGHT.

A council of war was held by the Athenian admirals on one of the Arginusae islets as soon as they could meet after the fighting had come to an end. Callias, by Diomedon's desire, waited outside the tent in which the deliberations were being held, and could not help hearing, so high were the voices of the speakers raised, that there was an angry argument about the course to be pursued. The intolerably clumsy system of having ten generals of equal authority was on its trial, if indeed any trial was needed, and was once more found wanting. Even if the right decision should be reached, time was being wasted, time that, as we shall see, was of a value absolutely incalculable.

When at last the council broke up--its deliberations had lasted for more than an hour--and Diomedon rejoined the young officer, he wore a gloomy and anxious look.

"I am afraid," he said, "that mischief will come of this. I feel it so strongly that, though I ought not, perhaps, to tell outside the council what has been going on within, I must call you to witness. I did my very best to persuade my colleagues. 'Our first business,' I said, 'is to save our friends. There were twenty-six ships, I said, disabled. A few were sunk on the spot; others, I am afraid, have gone down since; but more than half, I hope, are still afloat. Even where the ship is gone already, there are sure to be some of the crew who have been able to keep themselves afloat either by swimming or by holding on to floating stuff. For the sake of the gods, gentlemen,'--I give you my very words--'don't lose another moment. We have lost too many already. Send every seaworthy ship that you have got to the rescue of the shipwrecked. It is better to let ten enemies escape, than lose a single friend.' They would not listen to me. They were bent, they said, on following up their victory, an excellent thing, I allow; but only when the first duty of making all that you have got quite safe has been performed. One of them--I will mention no names--positively insulted me. 'Diomedon,' he said, 'has doubtless had enough fighting for the day.' Why, in the name of Athene, do they put such lowbred villains into office. The fellow has a long tongue, and so the people elect him. I 'tired of fighting' indeed? I might have some excuse if I were, for I was hard at it, when he was a thievish boy, picking up unconsidered trifles in the market-place. Well; the end of it was that we came to a sort of compromise. Forty-odd ships are to go and save what can be saved from the wrecks--the gods only know how many will be left by this time--while the rest are to make the best of their way to Mitylene, and cut off the blockading squadron."

"And you, sir?" asked Callias, "with which squadron are you to be?"

"I am to go to Mitylene, of course, after what that fellow said, I could not ask to have the other duty; but I feel that it is what I ought to be doing."

"Who is to have it, sir," said Callias.

"No one, if you will believe it," answered the admiral, with an angry stamp of the foot. "I mean no one of ourselves, of the Ten. They are all so anxious to follow up the victory, as they put it, and make a great show of taking Spartan ships, that they will not take the trouble. Theramenes and Thrasybulus are to do it. I know that they have been in command in former years and may be supposed to be competent. Thrasybulus, too, is trustworthy; but Theramenes--to put it plainly--is a scoundrel. You know that I don't care about politics; I am a plain sailor and leave such things to others; but I say this, politics or no politics, a man who turns against his friends is a scoundrel. I don't know what trick he is not capable of playing. Anyhow, whether these two do the business ill or well, one of the Ten ought to go. It would be better; and I am sure trouble will come of our not going. Mind this is all in confidence. You are never to breathe a word of it, till I give you leave."

"And am I to go with you, sir?" said Callias.

"No," was the answer; "I forgot to tell you; the worry of all this put it out of my mind. You are to take the despatch to Athens."

"But the shipwrecked men"--exclaimed Callias.

"We must obey orders."

Hippocles was acquainted with the general fact that the Athenian fleet had won a great victory; but he knew no details, and was eager to hear from the lips of one who had taken a part in the action. And he had much that was interesting to say to his young friend. The three weeks which he had spent in Mitylene with the blockaded squadron had not made him hopeful about the first issue of the war. He had found that Conon was not hopeful, and Conon was as able and intelligent an officer as Athens had in her service.

"Well," said Callias, who was a little staggered by his friend's view of affairs, "as your hero is drowned--mind that I quite agree in what you say of him--perhaps it is better that things have turned out as they have. And I can't believe that our chances are as bad as you make out. Anyhow we are better off than when I saw you last."

"I hope so; I hope so;" said Hippocles in a despondent tone, "But they might have done better. For instance, we have let the blockading squadron at Mitylene escape."

"How was that?" asked Callias. "Did you see nothing of our fleet. It was to sail northward at once."

"That was a very smart trick for a Spartan," said Callias.

FOOTNOTES:

I may refer my readers to a signal instance in earlier Greek history where the same system almost led to disaster. It was only by the unusual personal influence of Miltiades, a personal influence almost unparalleled in Athenian history, that thus the ten generals were induced to fight at Marathon. There can be little doubt that, if the conflict had been delayed the pro-Persian party might have seriously hampered, if it did not altogether defeat, the efforts of the patriots.

Theramenes had taken a prominent part four years before this date in the establishment of the oligarchy of the Four Hundred; finding that his own position was not such as he conceived to be suited to his merits, and having reason also to believe that the oligarchy would soon be overthrown--the fleet had declared against them--he changed sides and was the means of bringing up the condemnation of two of his own intimate friends, Antiphon and Archeptolemus.

Catullus mentions it as a special excellence of his yacht that it could

"Carry its load o'er stormy seas Whether from right or left the breeze Call o'er the main, as safe and fleet Over course, as when, on either sheet With equal strength blew fair behind, With level keel the following wind."

THE NEWS AT ATHENS.

After the assembly had been dismissed, Callias was overwhelmed with enquiries. To these he thought it well to return very vague answers. The fact was that there was much that he knew and much that he did not know. He knew the name of more than one of the ships that had been sunk or disabled. Two or three had been run down before his eyes. About others he had information almost equally certain. He could have told some of his questioners what would have confirmed their worst fears. On the other hand he could not give anything like a complete list of the losses. Some enquirers he could reassure. He had seen or even talked to their friends after the battle. All the admirals, he knew, were safe. And steps, he was sure, had been taken to rescue the shipwrecked crews. On the subject of Diomedon's fears he preserved absolute silence. If any disaster had happened, it was only too sure to be heard of before long.

On the evening of the day of assembly a great banquet was held in the Prytaneum, or Town-hall of Athens. Such a banquet was always an interesting sight, and on this occasion Callias, as he witnessed it for the first time, also saw it to the very greatest advantage. All the public guests of the city that were not absent on active service or were not positively hindered from coming by age or infirmity were present. The ranks of these veterans were indeed sadly thinned. The war had been curiously deadly to officers high in command. The fatal expedition to Sicily had swept off many of the most distinguished. Others had fallen in the "little wars" in which Athens like all states that have wide dominions had been perpetually involved. One famous survivor of a generation that had long since passed away was there, Myronides, the victor of Oenophyta. The old man had been born in the Marathon year, and was therefore now eighty-four. His life, it will be seen, embraced with remarkable exactitude the period of the greatness of Athens. The victory that had made him famous had been won fifty-one years before, and had been, so to speak, the "high water mark" of Athenian dominion. He had lived to see almost its lowest ebb, though happily for himself as he died before the year was out, he was spared from seeing the absolute ruin of his country. Callias was distantly related to him and was on terms of as close a friendship as the difference of age permitted with his son Eteonicus, one of the ablest and most patriotic statesmen of the time. After the libation which was the usual signal for the wine drinking, had been poured, the old man rose from his place, as his habit was, and walked down the hall, touching our hero on his shoulder as he passed.

"Come," he said, as Callias looked up, "if you can spare half an hour from the wine cup to bear an old man company."

The young man immediately left his place and accompanied the veteran to one of the small chambers leading from the hall.

"And now tell me all about it," he said, when they were seated.

"What!" cried Callias, "not to keep the Spartans out of Athens?"

"You would, sir," said the young man.

"Yes, I might; but to what profit? I don't suppose they would do me any harm. 'Poor old man!' they would say, 'he dotes.' But as for listening to me--I know better than that. Is there one of the responsible statesmen who would venture to give such advice? Would my son Eteonicus venture? Not he; and yet he is a sensible and honest young man, and knows that I am right. But it would be as much as his life, or, what he values more, his whole career is worth, to hint at such thing. Oh! what opportunities I have seen lost in this way. Unfortunately a victory makes the Athenians quite impracticable. They don't seem capable of realizing that the wheel is certain to take a turn. But you have had enough of an old man's croakings. The gods grant that these things may turn out better than my fears! And now give me your arm to the gate, where my people will be waiting for me."

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