READING HALL

THE DOORS OF WISDOM

GEORGE GROTE'S HISTORY OF GREECE

CHAPTER XLI.

BATTLE OF SALAMIS. RETREAT OF XERXES.

The sentiment, alike durable and unanimous, with which the Greeks of after-times looked back on the battle of Thermopylae, and which they have communicated to all subsequent readers, was that of just admiration for the courage and patriotism of Leonidas and his band. But among the contemporary Greeks that sentiment, though doubtless sincerely felt, was by no means predominant: it was overpowered by the more pressing emotions of disappointment and terror. So confident were the Spartans and Peloponnesians in the defensibility of Thermopylae and Artemisium, that when the news of the disaster reached them, not a single soldier had yet been put in motion : the season of the festival games had passed, but no active step had yet beer taken. Meanwhile the invading force, army and fleet, was in its progress towards Attica and Peloponnesus, without the least preparations,—and, what was still worse, without any combined and concerted plan,—for defending the heart of Greece. The loss sustained by Xerxes at Thermopylae, insignificant in proportion to his vast total, was more than compensated by the fresh Grecian auxiliaries which he now acquired. Not merely the Malians, Locrians, and Dorians, but also the great mass of the Boeotians, with their chief town Thebes, all except Thespiae and Plataea, now joined him. Demaratus, his Spartan companion, moved forward to Thebes to renew an ancient tie of hospitality with the Theban oligarchical leader, Attaginus, while small garrisons were sent by Alexander of Macedon to most of the Boeotian towns, as well to protect them, from plunder as to insure their fidelity. The Thespians, on the other hand, abandoned their city, and fled into Peloponnesus; while the Plataeans, who had been serving aboard the Athenian ships at Artemisium, were disembarked at Chalkis as the fleet retreated, for the purpose of marching by land to their city, and removing their families. Nor was it only the land-force of Xerxes which had been thus strengthened; his fleet also had received some accessions from Karystus in Euboea, and from several of the Cyclades, —so that the losses sustained by the storm at Sepias and the fights at Artemisium, if not wholly made up, were at least in part repaired, while the fleet remained still prodigiously superior in number to that of the Greeks.

At the beginning of the Peloponnesian war, near fifty years after^- these events, the Corinthian envoys reminded Sparta that she had allowed Xerxes time to arrive from the extremity of the earth at the threshold of Peloponnesus, before she took any adequate precautions against him: a reproach true almost to the letter. It was only when roused and terrified by the news of the death of Leonidas, that the Lacedaemonians and the other Peloponnesians began to put forth their full strength. But it was then too late to perform the promise made to Athens, of taking up a position in Boeotia so as to protect Attica. To defend the isthmus of Corinth was all that they now thought of, and seemingly all that was now open to them: thither they rushed with all their available population under the conduct of Kleombrotus, king of Sparta (brother of Leonidas), and began to draw fortifications across it, as well as to break up the Skironian road from Megara to Corinth, with every mark of anxious energy. The Lacedaemonians, Arcadians, Eleians, Corinthians, Sikyonians, Epidaurians, Phliasians, Troezenians, and Hermionians, were all present here in full numbers; many myriads of men (bodies of ten thousand each) working and bringing materials night and day. As a defence to themselves against attack by land, this was an excellent position: they considered it as their last chance, abandoning all hope of successful resistance at sea. But they forgot that a fortified isthmus was no protection even to themselves against the navy of Xerxes, while it professedly threw out not only Attica, but also Megara and Aegina. And thus rose a new peril to Greece from the loss of Thermopylae: no other position could be found which, like that memorable strait, comprehended and protected at once all the separate cities. The disunion thus produced brought them within a hair’s breadth of ruin.

If the causes of alarm were great for the Peloponnesians, yet more desperate did the position of the Athenians appear. Expecting, according to agreement, to find a Peloponnesian army in Boeotia ready to sustain Leonidas, or at any rate to cooperate in the defence of Attica, they had taken no measures to remove their families or property: but they saw with indignant disappointment as well as dismay, on retreating from Artemisium, that the conqueror was in full march from Thermopylae, that the road to Attica was open to him, and that the Peloponnesians were absorbed exclusively in the defence of their own isthmus and their own separate existence. The fleet from Artemisium had been directed to muster at the harbor of Troezen, there to await such reinforcements as could be got together: but the Athenians entreated Eurybiades to halt at Salamis, so as to allow them a short time for consultation in the critical state of their affairs, and to aid them in the transport of their families. While Eurybiades was thus staying at Salamis, several new ships which had reached Troezen came over to join him; and in this way Salamis became for a time the naval station of the Greeks, without any deliberate intention beforehand.

Meanwhile Themistocles and the Athenian seamen landed at Phalerum, and made their mournful entry into Athens. Gloomy as the prospect appeared, there was little room for difference of opinion, and still less room for delay. The authorities and the public assembly at once issued a proclamation, enjoining every Athenian to remove his family out of the country in the best way he could. We may conceive the state of tumult and terror which followed on this unexpected proclamation, when we reflect that it had to be circulated and acted upon throughout all Attica, from Sunium to Oropus, within the narrow space of less than sis days; for no longer interval elapsed before Xerxes actually arrived at Athens, where indeed he might have arrived even sooner. The whole Grecian fleet was doubtless employed in carrying out the helpless exiles; mostly to Troezen, where a kind reception and generous support were provided for them (the Troezenian population being seemingly semi-ionic, and having ancient relations of religion as well as of traffic with Athens),— but in part also to Aegina: there were, however, many who could not, or would not, go father than Salamis. Themistocles impressed upon the sufferers that they were only obeying the oracle, which had directed them to abandon the city and to take refuge behind the wooden walls; and either his policy, or the mental depression of the time, gave circulation to other stories, intimating that even the divine inmates of the acropolis were for a while deserting it. In the ancient temple of Athene Polias on that rock, there dwelt, or was believed to dwell, as guardian to the sanctuary and familiar attendant of the goddess, a sacred serpent, for whose nourishment a honey-cake was placed once in the month. The honey-cake had been hitherto regularly consumed; but at this fatal moment the priestess announced that it remained untouched: the sacred guardian had thus set the ex­ample of quitting the acropolis, and it behooved the citizens to follow the example, confiding in the goddess herself for future return and restitution. The migration of so many ancient men, women, and children, was a scene of tears and misery inferior only to that which would have ensued on the actual capture of the city. Some few individuals, too poor to hope for maintenance, or too old to care for life, elsewhere,—confiding, moreover, in their own interpretation of the wooden wall which the Pythian priestess had pronounced to be inexpugnable,— shut themselves up in the acropolis along with the administrators of the temple, obstructing the entrance or western front with wooden doors and palisades. When we read how great were the suffer­ings of the population of Attica near half a century afterwards, compressed for refuge within the spacious fortifications of Athens at the first outbreak of the Peloponnesian war, we may form some faint idea of the incalculably greater misery which overwhelmed an emigrant population, hurrying, they knew not whither, to escape the long arm of Xerxes. Little chance did there seem that they would ever revisit their homes except as his slaves.

In the midst of circumstances thus calamitous and threatening, neither the warriors nor the leaders of Athens lost their energy—arm as well as mind was strung to the loftiest pitch of human resolution. Political dissensions were suspended: Themistokles proposed to the people a decree, and obtained their sanction, in­viting home all who were under sentence of temporary banishment : moreover, he not only included but even specially designated among them Ins own great opponent Aristeides, now in the third year of ostracism. Xanthippus the accuser, and Kimon the son, of Miltiades, were partners in the same emigration: the latter, enrolled by his scale of fortune among the horsemen of the state, was seen with his companions cheerfully marching through the Kerameikus to dedicate their bridles in the acropolis, and to bring away in exchange some of the sacred arms there suspended, thus setting an example of ready service on ship­board, instead of on horseback. It was absolutely essential to obtain supplies of money, partly for the aid of the poorer exiles, but still more for the equipment of the fleet; there were no funds in the public treasury,—but the Senate of Areopagus, then composed in large proportion of men from the wealthier classes, put forth all its public authority as well as its private contributions and example to others, and thus succeeded in raising the sum of eight drachms for every soldier serving.

This timely help was indeed partly obtained by the inexhaust­ible resource of Themistokles, who, in the hurry of embarkation, cither discovered or pretended that the Gorgon’s head from the statue of Athene was lost, and directing upon this ground every man’s baggage to be searched, rendered any treasures, which private citizens might be carrying out, available to the public service. By the most strenuous efforts, these few important days were made to suffice for removing the whole population of Attica,—those of military competence to the fleet at Salamis,—the rest to some place of refuge,—together with as much property as the case admitted. So complete was the desertion of the country, that the host of Xerxes, when it became master, could not seize and carry off more than five hundred prisoners. Moreover, the fleet itself, which had been brought home from Artemisium partially disabled, was quickly repaired, so that, by the time the Persian fleet arrived, it was again in something like fighting condition.

The combined fleet which had now got together at Salamis consisted of three hundred and sixty-six ships,—a force far greater than at Artemisium. Of these, no less than two hundred were Athenian; twenty among which, however, were lent to the Chalcidians, and manned by them. Forty Corinthian ships, thirty Aeginetan, twenty Megarian, sixteen Lacedaemonian, fifteen Sicyonian, ten Epidaurian, seven from Ambracia, and as many from Eretria, five from Troezen, three from Hermione, and the same number from Leukas; two from Keos, two from Styra, and one from Kythnos ; four from Naxos, despatched as a contingent to the Persian fleet, but brought by the choice of their captains and seamen to Salamis;—all these triremes, together with a small squadron of the inferior vessels called pentekonters, made up the total. From the great Grecian cities in Italy there appeared only one trireme, a volunteer, equipped and commanded by an eminent citizen named Phayllus, thrice victor at the Pythian games. The entire fleet was thus a trifle larger than the combined force, three hundred and fifty-eight ships, collected by the Asiatic Greeks at Lade, fifteen years ear­lier, during the Ionic revolt. We may doubt, however, whether this total, borrowed from Herodotus, be not larger than that which actually fought a little afterwards at the battle of Salamis, and which Aeschylus gives decidedly as consisting of three hundred sail, in addition to ten prime and chosen ships. That great poet, himself one of the combatants, and speaking in a drama represented only seven years after the battle, is better authority on the point even than Herodotus.

Hardly was the fleet mustered at Salamis, and the Athenian population removed, when Xerxes and his host overran the deserted country, his fleet occupying the roadstead of Phalerum with the coast adjoining. His land-force had been put in motion under the guidance of the Thessalians, two or three days after the battle of Thermopylae, and he was assured by some Arcadians who came to seek service, that the Peloponnesians were, even at that moment, occupied with the celebration of the Olympic games. “What prize does the victor receive ?” he asked. Upon the reply made, that the prize was a wreath of the wild olive. Tritantaechmes, son of the monarch’s uncle Artabanus, is said to have burst forth, notwithstanding the displeasure both of the monarch himself and of the bystanders: “Heavens, Mardonius, what manner of men are these against whom thou hast brought us to fight men who contend not for money, but for honor!”. Whether this be a remark really delivered, or a dra­matic illustration imagined by some contemporary of Herodotus, it s not the less interesting as bringing to view a characteristic of Hellenic life, which contrasts not merely with the manners of contemporary Orientals, but even with those of the earlier Greeks themselves during the Homeric times.

Among all the various Greeks between Thermopylae and the borders of Attica, there were none except the Phocians disposed to refuse submission: and they refused only because the paramount influence of their bitter enemies the Thessalians made diem despair of obtaining favorable terms. Nor would they even listen to a proposition of the Thessalians, who, boasting that it was in their power to guide as they pleased the terrors of the Persian host, offered to insure lenient treatment to the territory of Phocis, provided a sum of fifty talents were paid to them. The proposition being indignantly refused, they conducted Xerxes through the little territory of Doris, which medized and escaped plunder, into the upper valley of the Kephisus, among the towns of the inflexible Phocians. All of them were found deserted; the inhabitants having previously escaped either to the wide-spreading summit of Parnassus, called Tithorea, or even still farther, across that mountain into the territory of the Ozolian Lokrians. Ten or a dozen small Phocian towns, the most considerable of which were Elateia and Hyampolis, were sacked and destroyed by the invaders, nor was the holy temple and oracle of Apollo at Abae better treated than the rest: all its treasures were pillaged, and it was then burnt. From Panopeus Xerxes detached a body of men to plunder Delphi, marching with his main army through Boeotia, in which country he found all the towns submissive and willing, except Thespiae and Plataea: both were deserted by their citizens, and both were now burnt. From hence he conducted his army into the abandoned territory of Attica, reaching without resistance the foot of the acropolis at Athens.

Very different was the fate of that division which he had detached from Panopeus against Delphi: Apollo defended his temple here more vigorously than at Abae. The cupidity of the Persian king was stimulated by accounts of the boundless wealth accumulated at Delphi, especially the profuse donations of Croesus. The Delphians, in the extreme of alarm, while they sought safety for themselves on the heights of Parnassus, and for their families by transport across the gulf into Achaia, consulted the oracle whether they should carry away or bury the sacred treasures. Apollo directed them to leave the treasures untouched, saying that he was competent himself to take care of his own property. Sixty Delphians alone ventured to remain, together with Akeratus, the religious superior: but evidences of superhuman aid soon appeared to encourage them. The sacred arms suspended in the interior cell, which no mortal hand was ever permitted to touch, were seen lying before the door of the temple; and when the Persians, marching along the road called Schiste, up that rugged path under the steep cliffs of Parnassus which conducts to Delphi, had reached the temple of Athene Pronoea,—on a sudden, dreadful thunder was heard,—two vast mountain crags detached themselves and rushed down with deafening noise among them, crushing many to death,—the war-shout was also heard from the interior of the temple of Athene. Seized with a panic terror, the invaders turned round and fled; pursued not only by the Delphians, but also, as they themselves affirmed, by two armed warriors of superhuman stature and destructive arm. The triumphant Delphians confirmed this report, adding that the two auxiliaries were the heroes Phylakus and Autonous, whose sacred precincts were close adjoining: and Herodotus himself when he visited Delphi, saw in the sacred ground of Athene the identical masses of rock which had overwhelmed the Persians. Thus did the god repel these invaders from his Delphian sanctuary and treasures, which remained inviolate until one hundred and thirty years afterwards, when they were rifled by the sacrilegious hands of the Phocian Pliilomelus. On this occasion, as will be seen presently, the real protectors of the treasures were, the conquerors at Salamis and Plataea.

Four months had elapsed since the departure from Asia when Xerxes reached Athens, the last term of his advance. He brought with him the members of the Peisistratid family, who doubtless thought their restoration already certain,—and a few Athenian exiles attached to their interest. Though the country was altogether deserted, the handful of men collected in the acropolis ventured to defy him: nor could all the persuasions of the Peisistratids, eager to preserve the holy place from pillage, induce them to surrender. The Athenian acropolis,—a craggy rock rising abruptly about one hundred and fifty feet, with a flat summit of about one thousand feet long from east to west, by five hundred feet broad from north to south,—had no practicable access except on the western side: moreover, in all parts where there seemed any possibility of climbing up, it was defended by the ancient fortification called the Pelasgic wall. Obliged to take the place by force, the Persian army was posted around the northern and western sides, and commenced their operations from the eminence immediately adjoining on the northwest, called Areopagus: from whence they bombarded, if we may venture upon the expression, with hot missiles, the wood­work before the gates ; that is, they poured upon it multitudes of arrows with burning tow attached to them. The wooden palisades and boarding presently took fire and were consumed: but when the Persians tried to mount to the assault by the western road leading up to the gate, the undaunted little garrison still kept them at bay, having provided vast stones, which they rolled down upon them in the ascent. For a time the Great King seemed likely to be driven to the slow process of blockade; but at length some adventurous men among the besiegers tried to scale the precipitous rock before them on its northern side, hard by the temple or chapel of Aglaurus, which lay nearly in front of the Persian position, but behind the gates and the western ascent. Here the rock was naturally so inaccessible, that it was altogether unguarded, and seemingly even unfortified : moreover, the attention of the little garrison was all concentrated on the host which fronted the gates. Hence the separate escalading party was enabled to accomplish their object unobserved, and to reach the summit in the rear of the garrison; who, deprived of their last hope, either cast themselves headlong from the walls, or fled for safety to the inner temple. The successful escaladers opened the gates to the entire Persian host, and the whole acropolis was presently in their hands. Its defenders were slain, its temples pillaged, and all its dwellings and buildings, sacred as well as profane, consigned to the flames. The citadel of Athens fell into the hands of Xerxes by a surprise, very much the same as that which had placed Sardis in those of Cyrus.

Thus was divine prophecy fulfilled: Attica passed entirely into the hands of the Persians, and the conflagration of Sardis was retaliated upon the home and citadel of its captors, as it also was upon their sacred temple of Eleusis. Xerxes immedi­ately despatched to Susa intelligence of the fact, which is said to have excited unmeasured demonstrations of joy, confuting, seemingly, the gloomy predictions of his uncle Artabanus. On the next day but one, the Athenian exiles in his suite received his orders, or perhaps obtained his permission, to go and offer sacrifice amidst the ruins of the acropolis, and atone, if possible, for the desecration of the ground: they discovered that the sacred olive-tree near the chapel of Erechtheus, the special gift of the goddess Athene, though burnt to the ground by the recent flames, had already thrown out a fresh shoot of one cubit long, at least the piety of restored Athens afterwards believed this encouraging portent, as well as that which was said to have been seen by Dikaeus, an Athenian companion of the Peisistratids, in the Thriasian plain. It was now the day set apart for the celebration of the Eleusinian mysteries; and though in this sorrow­ful year there was no celebration, nor any Athenians in the ter­ritory, Dikaeus still fancied that he beheld the dust and heard the loud multitudinous chant, which was wont to accompany in ordinary times the processional march from Athens to Eleusis. He would even have revealed the fact to Xerxes himself, had not Demaratus deterred him from doing so: but he as well as He­rodotus construed it as an evidence that the goddesses themselves were passing over from Eleusis to help the Athenians at Salamis. But whatever may have been received in after times, on that day certainly no man could believe in the speedy resurrection of conquered Athens as a free city: not even if he had witnessed the portent of the burnt olive-tree suddenly sprouting afresh with preternatural vigor. So hopeless did the circum­stances of the Athenians then appear, not less to their confeder­ates assembled at Salamis than to the victorious Persians.

About the time of the capture of the acropolis, the Persian fleet also arrived safely in the bay of Phalerum, reinforced by ships from Karystus as well as from various islands of the Cyclades, so that Herodotus reckons it to have been as strong as before the terrible storm at Sepias Akte,—an estimate certainly not admissible.

Soon after their arrival, Xerxes himself descended to the shore to inspect the fleet, as well as to take counsel with the various naval leaders about the expediency of attacking the hostile fleet, now so near him in the narrow strait between Salamis and the coasts of Attica. He invited them all to take their seats in an assembly, wherein the king of Sidon occupied the first place and the king of Tyre the second. The question was put to each of them separately by Mardonius, and when we learn that all pronounced in favor of immediate fighting, we may be satisfied that the decided opinion of Xerxes himself must have been well known to them beforehand. One exception alone was found to this unanimity,—Artemisia, queen of Halikarnassus in Caria; into whose mouth Herodotus puts a speech of some length, deprecating all idea of fighting in the narrow strait of Salamis,— predicting that if the land-force were moved forward to attack Peloponnesus, the Peloponnesians in the fleet at Salamis would return for the protection of their own homes, and thus the fleet would disperse, the rather as there was little or no food in the island,—and intimating, besides, unmeasured contempt for the efficacy of the Persian fleet and seamen as compared with the Greek, as well as for the subject contingents of Xerxes generally. That queen Artemisia gave this prudent counsel, there is no reason to question; and the historian of Halikarnassus may have had means of hearing the grounds on which her opinion rested: but I find a difficulty in believing that she can have publicly delivered any such estimate of the maritime subjects of Persia,—an estimate not merely insulting to all who heard it, but at the time not just, though it had come to be nearer the truth at the time when Herodotus wrote, and though Artemisia herself may have lived to entertain the conviction afterwards Whatever may have been her reasons, the historian tells us that friends as well as rivals were astonished at her rashness in dissuading the monarch from a naval battle, and expected that she would be put to death. But Xerxes heard the advice with perfect good temper, and even esteemed the Carian queen the more highly: though he resolved that the opinion of the majority, or his own opinion, should be acted upon : and orders were accordingly issued for attacking the next day, while the land-force should move forward towards Peloponnesus.

Whilst on the shore of Phalerum, an omnipotent will com­pelled seeming unanimity and precluded all real deliberation,—great, indeed, was the contrast presented by the neighboring Greek armament at Salamis, among the members of which unmeasured dissension had been reigning. It has already been stated that the Greek fleet had originally got together at that island, not with any view of making it a naval station, but simply in order to cover and assist the emigration of the Athenians. This object being accomplished, and Xerxes being already in Attica, Eurybiades convoked the chiefs to consider what position was the fittest for a naval engagement. Most of them, especially those from Peloponnesus, were averse to remaining at Salamis, and proposed that the fleet should be transferred to the isthmus of Corinth, where it would be in immediate communication with the Peloponnesian land-force, so that in case of defeat at sea, the ships would find protection on shore, and the men would join in the land service,—while if worsted in a naval action near Salamis, they would be inclosed in an island from whence there were no hopes of escape. In the midst of the debate, a messenger arrived with news of the capture and conflagration of Athens and her acropolis by the Persians: and such was the terror produced by this intelligence, that some of the chiefs, without even awaiting the conclusion of the debate and the final vote, quitted the council forthwith, and began to hoist sail, or prepare their rowers, for departure. The majority came to a vote for removing to the Isthmus, but as night was approaching, actual removal was deferred until the next morning.

Now was felt the want of a position like that of Thermopylae, which had served as a protection to all the Greeks at once, so as to check the growth of separate fears and interests. We can hardly wonder that the Peloponnesian chiefs,—the Corinthian in particular, who furnished so large a naval contingent, and within whose territory the land-battle at the Isthmus seemed about to take place,—should manifest such an obstinate reluctance to light at Salamis, and should insist on removing to a position where, in case of naval defeat, they could assist, and be assisted by their own soldiers on land. On the other hand, Salamis was not only the most favorable position, in consequence of its narrow strait, for the inferior numbers of the Greeks, but could not be abandoned without breaking up the unity of the allied fleet; since Megara and Aegina would thus be left uncovered, and the contingents of each 'would immediately retire for the defence of their own homes,—while the Athenians also, a large portion of whose expatriated families were in Salamis and Aegina, would be in like manner distracted from combined maritime efforts at the Isthmus. If transferred to the latter place, probably not even the Peloponnesians themselves would have remained in one body; for the squadrons of Epidaurus, Troezen, Hermione, etc., each fearing that the Persian fleet might make a descent on one or other of these separate ports, would go home to repel such a contingency, in spite of the efforts of Eurybiades to keep them together. Hence the order for quitting Salamis and repairing to the Isthmus was nothing less than a sentence of extinction for all combined maritime defence ; and it thus became doubly abhorrent to all those who, like the Athenians, Aeginetans, and Megarians, were also led by their own separate safety to cling to the defence of Salamis. In spite of all such opposition, however, and in spite of the protest of Themistokles, the obstinate determination of the Peloponnesian leaders carried the vote for retreat, and each of them went to his ship to prepare for it on the following morning.

When Themistokles returned to his ship, with the gloom of this melancholy resolution full upon his mind, and with the necessity of providing for removal of the expatriated Athenian families in the island as well as for that of the squadron,—he found an Athenian friend named Mnesiphilus, who asked him what the synod of chiefs had determined. Concerning this Mnesiphilus, who is mentioned generally as a sagacious practical politician, we unfortunately have no particulars: but it must have been no common man whom fame selected, truly or falsely, as the inspiring genius of Themistokles. On learning what had been resolved, Mnesiphilus burst out into remonstrance on the utter ruin which its execution would entail: there would presently be neither any united fleet to fight, nor any aggregate cause and country to fight for. He vehemently urged Themistokles again to open the question, and to press by every means in his power for a recall of the vote for retreat, as well as for a resolution to stay and fight at Salamis. Themistokles had already in vain tried to enforce the same view: but disheartened as he was by ill-success, the remonstrances of a respected friend struck him so forcibly as to induce him to renew his efforts. He went instantly to the ship of Eurybiades, asked permission to speak with him, and being invited aboard, reopened with him alone the whole subject of the past discussion, enforcing his own views as emphatically as he could. In this private communication, all the arguments bearing upon the case were more unsparingly laid open than it had been possible to do in an assembly of the chiefs, who would have been insulted if openly told that they were likely to desert the fleet when once removed from Salamis. Speaking thus freely and confidentially, and speaking to Eurybiades alone, Themistokles was enabled to bring him partially round, and even prevailed upon him to convene a fresh synod. So soon as this synod had assembled, even before Eurybiades had explained the object and formally opened the discussion, Themistokles addressed himself to each of the chiefs separately, pouring forth at large his fears and anxiety as to the abandonment of Salamis: insomuch that the Corinthian Adeimantus rebuked him by saying “Themistokles, those who in the public festival-matches rise up before the proper signal, are scourged.” “True, (rejoined the Athenian), but those who lag behind the signal win no crowns.”

Eurybiades then explained to the synod that doubts had arisen in his mind, and that he called them together to reconsider the previous resolve: upon which Themistokles began the debate, and vehemently enforced the necessity of fighting in the narrow sea of Salamis and not in the open waters at the Isthmus,—as well as of preserving Megara and Aegina: contending that a naval victory at Salamis would be not less effective for the defence of Peloponnesus than if it took place at the Isthmus, whereas, if the fleet were withdrawn to the latter point, they would only draw the Persians after them. Nor did he omit to add, that the Athenians had a prophecy assuring to them victory in this, their own island. But his speech made little impression on the Peloponnesian chiefs, who were even exasperated at being again sum­moned to reopen a debate already concluded,—and concluded in a way which they deemed essential to their safety. In the bosom of the Corinthian Adeimantus, especially, this feeling of anger burst all bounds. He sharply denounced the presumption of Themistokles, and hade him be silent as a man who had now no free Grecian city to represent,—Athens being in the power of the enemy: nay, he went so far as to contend that Eurybiades had no right to count the vote of Themistocles, until the latter could produce some free city as accrediting him to the synod. Such an attack, alike ungenerous and insane, upon the leader of more than half of the whole fleet, demonstrates the ungovernable impatience of the Corinthians to carry away the fleet to their Isthmus: it provoked a bitter retort against them from Themistocles, who reminded them that while he had around him two hundred well-manned ships, he could procure for himself anywhere both city and territory as good or better than Corinth. But he now saw clearly that it was hopeless to think of enforcing his policy by argument, and that nothing would succeed except the direct language of intimidation. Turning to Eurybiades, and addressing him personally, he said: “If you will stay here, and fight bravely here, all will turn out well: but if you will not stay, you will bring Hellas to ruin. For with us, all our means of war are contained in our ships. Be you yet persuaded by me. If not, we Athenians shall migrate with our families on board, just as we are, to Siris in Italy, which is ours from of old, and which the prophecies announce that we are one day to colonize. You chiefs then, when bereft of allies like us will hereafter recollect what I am now saying.”

Eurybiades had before been nearly convinced by the impres­sive pleading of Themistokles. But this last downright menace clenched his determination, and probably struck dumb even the Corinthian and Peloponnesian opponents: for it was but too plain, that without the Athenians the fleet was powerless. He did not however put the question again to vote, but took upon himself to rescind the previous resolution and to issue orders for staying at Salamis to fight. In this order all acquiesced, willing or unwilling the succeeding dawn saw them preparing for fight instead of for retreat, and invoking the protection and companionship of the Eakid heroes of Salamis,—Telamon and Ajax: they even sent a trireme to Aegina to implore Eakus himself and the remaining Eakids. It seems to have been on this same day, also, that the resolution of fighting at Salamis was taken by Xerxes, whose fleet was seen in motion, towards the close of the day, preparing for attack the next morning.

But the Peloponnesians, though not venturing to disobey the orders of the Spartan admiral, still retained unabated their former fears and reluctance, which began again after a short interval to prevail over the formidable menace o Themistokles, and were further strengthened by the advices from the Isthmus. The messengers from that quarter depicted the trepidation and affright of their absent brethren while constructing their cross Avail at that point, to resist the impending land invasion. Why were they not there also, to join hands and to help in the defence,—even if worsted at sea,—at least on land, instead of wasting their efforts in defence of Attica, already in the hands of the enemy? Such were the complaints which passed from man to man, with many a bitter exclamation against the insanity of Eurybiades: at length the common feeling broke out in public and mutinous manifestation, and a fresh synod of the chiefs was demanded and convoked. Here the same angry debate, and the same irreconcilable difference, was again renewed; the Peloponnesian chiefs clamoring for immediate departure, while the Athenians, Aeginetans, and Alegarians, were equally urgent in favor of staying to fight. It was evident to Themistokles that the majority of votes among the chiefs would be against him, in spite of the orders of Eurybiades; and the disastrous crisis, destined to deprive Greece of all united maritime defence, appeared imminent,—when he resorted to one last stratagem to meet the desperate emergency, by rendering flight impossible. Contriving a pretext for stealing away from the synod, he despatched a trusty messenger across the strait with a secret com­munication to the Persian generals. Sikinnus his slave,—seemingly an Asiatic Greek,³ who understood Persian, and had perhaps been sold during the late Ionic revolt, but whose superior qualities are marked by the fact that he had the care and teaching of the children of his master,—was instructed to acquaint them privately, in the name of Themistocles, who was represented as wishing success at heart to the Persians, that the Greek fleet was not only in the utmost alarm, meditating immediate flight, but that the various portions of it were in such violent dissension, that they were more likely to tight against each other than against any common enemy. A splendid opportunity, it was added, was thus opened to the Persians, if they chose to avail themselves of it without delay, first, to inclose and prevent their flight, and then to attack a disunited body, many of whom would, when the combat began, openly espouse the Persian cause.

Such was the important communication despatched by Themistocles across the narrow strait, only a quarter of a mile in breadth at the narrowest part, which divides Salamis from the neighboring continent on which the enemy were posted. It was delivered with so much address as to produce the exact impression which he intended, and the glorious success which followed caused it to pass for a splendid stratagem: had defeat ensued, his name would have been covered with infamy. What surprises us the most is, that after having reaped signal honor from it in the eyes of the Greeks, as a stratagem, he lived to take credit for it, during the exile of his latter days, as a capital service rendered to the Persian monarch: nor is it improbable, when we reflect upon the desperate condition of Grecian affairs at the moment, that such facility of double interpretation was in part his inducement for sending the message.

It appears to have been delivered to Xerxes shortly after he had issued his orders for fighting on the next morning: and he entered so greedily into the scheme, as to direct his generals to close up the strait of Salamis on both sides during the night, to the north as well as to the south of the town of Salamis, at the. risk of their heads if any opening were left for the Greeks to escape. The station of the numerous Persian fleet was along the coast of Attica,—its headquarters were in the bay of Phalerum, but doubtless parts of it would occupy those three natural harbors, as yet unimproved by art, which belonged to the deme of Petraeus,—and would perhaps extend besides to other portions of the western coast southward of Phalerum: while the Greek fleet was in the harbor of the town called Salamis, in the portion of the island facing mount Aegaleos, in Attica. During the night, a portion of the Persian fleet, sailing from Peiraeus northward along the western coast of Attica, closed round to the north of the town and harbor of Salamis, so as to shut up the northern issue from the strait on the side of Eleusis: while another portion blocked up the other issue between Peiraeus and the southeastern corner of the island, landing a detachment of troops on the desert island of Psyttaleia, near to that corner. These measures were all taken during the night, to prevent the anticipated Hight of the Greeks, and then to attack them in the narrow strait close on their own harbor the next morning.

Meanwhile, that angry controversy among the Grecian chiefs, in the midst of which Themistocles had sent over his secret envoy, continued without abatement and without decision. It was the interest of the Athenian general to prolong the debate, and to prevent any concluding vote until the effect of his stratagem should have rendered retreat impossible : nor was prolongation difficult in a case so critical, where the majority of chiefs was on one side and that of naval force on the other,—especially as Eurybiades himself was favorable to the view of Themistocles. Accordingly, the debate was still unfinished at nightfall, and either continued all night, or was adjourned to an hour before daybreak on the following morning, when an incident, interesting as well as important, gave to it a new turn. The ostracized Aristeides arrived at Salamis from Aegina. Since the revocation of his sentence, proposed by Themistokles himself, he had had no opportunity of revisiting Athens, and he now for the first time rejoined his countrymen in their exile at Salamis; not uninformed of the dissensions raging, and of the impatience of the Pelopon­nesians to retire to the Isthmus. He was the first to bring the news that such retirement had become impracticable from the position of the Persian fleet, which his own vessel, in coming from Aegina, had only eluded under favor of night. He caused Themistocles to be invited out from the assembled synod of chiefs, and after a generous exordium, wherein he expressed his hope that their rivalry would for the future be only a competition in doing good to their common country, apprized him that the new movement of the Persians excluded all hope of now reaching the Isthmus and rendered farther debate useless. Themistocles expressed his joy at the intelligence, and communicated his own secret message whereby he had himself brought the movement about, in order that the Peloponnesian chiefs might be forced to fight at Salamis, even against their own consent. He moreover desired Aristeides to go himself into the synod, and communicate the news: for if it came from the lips of Themistokles, the Peloponnesians would treat it as a fabrication. So obstinate indeed was their incredulity, that they refused to accept it as truth even on the assertion of Aristeides: nor was it until the arrival of Athenian vessel, deserting from the Persian fleet, that they at last brought themselves to credit the actual posture of affairs and the entire impossibility of retreat. Once satisfied of this fact, they prepared themselves at dawn for the impending battle.

Having caused his land-force to be drawn up along the shore opposite to Salamis, Xerxes had erected for himself a lofty seat, or throne, upon one of the projecting declivities of mount Aegaleos, near the Herakleion and immediately overhanging the sea,—from whence he could plainly review all the phases of the combat and the conduct of his subject troops. He was per­suaded himself that they had not done their best at Artemisium, in consequence of his absence, and that his presence would inspire them with fresh valor: moreover, his royal scribes stood ready by his side to take the names both of the brave and of the backward combatants. On the right wing of his fleet, which approached Salamis on the side of Eleusis, and was opposed to the Athenians on the Grecian left,—were placed the Phoenicians and Egyptians; on his left wing the Ionians,—approaching from the side of Peiraeus, and opposed to the Lacedaemonians, Aeginetans, and Megarians. The seamen of the Persian fleet, however, had been on shipboard all night, in making that movement which had brought them into their actual position: while the Greek seamen now began without previous fatigue, fresh from the animated harangues of Themistocles and the other leaders : moreover, just as they were getting on board, they were joined by the triremes which had been sent to Aegina to bring to their aid Eakus, with the other Eakid heroes. Honoured with this precious heroic aid, which tended so much to raise the spirits of the Greeks, the Aeginetan trireme now arrived just in time to take her post in the line, having eluded pursuit from the intervening enemy.

The Greeks rowed forward from the shore to attack with the usual paean, or war-shout, which was confidently returned by the Persians; and the latter were the most forward of the two to begin the fight: for the Greek seamen, on gradually nearing the enemy, became at first disposed to hesitate,—and even backed water for a space, so that some of them touched ground on their own shore: until the retrograde movement was arrested by a supernatural feminine figure hovering over them, who exclaimed with a voice that rang through the whole fleet,— “Ye worthies, how much farther are ye going to back water?” The very circulation of this fable attests the dubious courage of the Greeks at the commencement of the battle. The brave Athenian captains Ameinias and Lykomedes (the former, brother of the poet Aeschylus) were the first to obey either the feminine voice or the inspirations of their own ardor : though according to the version current at Aegina, it was the Aeginetan ship, the carrier of the Eakid heroes, which first set this honorable example. The Naxian Democritus was celebrated by Simonides as the third ship in action. Ameinias, darting forth from the line, charged with the beak of his ship full against a Phenician, and the two became entangled so that he could not again get clear: other ships came in aid on both sides, and the action thus became general. Herodotus, with his usual candor, tells us that he could procure few details about the action, except as to what concerned Artemisia, the queen of his own city : so that we know hardly anything beyond the general facts. But it appears that, with the exception of the Ionic Greeks, many of whom—apparently a greater number than Herodotus likes to acknowledge—were lukewarm, and some even averse, the subjects of Xerxes conducted themselves generally with great bravery: Phoenicians, Cyprians, Cilicians, Egyptians, vied with the Persians and Medes serving as soldiers on shipboard, in trying to satisfy the exigent monarch who sat on shore watching their behavior. Their signal defeat was not owing to any want of courage,—but, first, to the narrow space which rendered their superior number a hindrance rather than a benefit: next, to their want of orderly line and discipline as compared with the Greeks: thirdly, to the fact that, when once fortune seemed to turn against them, they had no fidelity or reciprocal attachment, and each ally was willing to sacrifice or even to run down others, in order to effect his own escape. Their numbers and absence of concert threw them into confusion, and caused them to run foul of each other: those in the front could not recede, nor could those in the rear advance: the oar-blades were broken by collision,—the steersmen lost control of their ships, and could no longer adjust the ship’s course so as to strike that direct blow with the beak which was essential in ancient warfare. After some time of combat, the whole Persian fleet was driven back and became thoroughly unmanageable, so that the issue was no longer doubtful, and nothing remained except the efforts of individual bravery to protract the struggle. While the Athenian squadron on the left, which had the greatest resistance to surmount, broke up and drove before them the Persian right, the Aeginetans on the right intercepted the flight of the fugitives to Phalerum : Democritus, the Naxian captain, was said to have captured five ships of the Persians with his own single trireme. The chief admiral, Ariabignes, brother of Xerxes, attacked at once by two Athenian triremes, fell, gallantly trying to board one of them, and the number of distinguished Persians and Medes who shared his fate was great: the more so, as few of them knew how to swim, while among the Greek seamen who were cast into the sea, the greater number were swimmers, and had the friendly shore of Salamis near at hand. It appears that the Phoenician seamen of the fleet threw the blame of defeat upon the Ionic Greeks; and some of them, driven ashore during the heat of the battle under the immediate throne of Xerxes, excused themselves by denouncing the others as traitors. The heads of the Ionic leaders might have been endangered if the monarch had not seen with his own eyes an act of surprising gallantry by one of their number. An Ionic trireme from Samothrace charged and disabled an Attic trireme, but was herself almost immediately run down by an Aeginetan. The Samothracian crew, as their vessel lay disabled on the water, made such excellent use of their missile weapons, that they cleared the decks of the Aeginetan, sprung on board, and became masters of her. This exploit, passing under the eyes of Xerxes himself, induced him to treat the Phenicians as dastardly calumniators, and to direct their heads to be cut off: his wrath and vexation, Herodotus tells us, were boundless, and he scarcely knew on whom to vent it.

In this disastrous battle itself, as in the debate before the battle, the conduct of Artemisia of Halikarnassus was such as to give him full satisfaction. It appears that this queen maintained her full part in the battle until the disorder had become irretrievable; she then sought to escape, pursued by the Athenian trierarch, Ameinias, but found her progress obstructed by the number of fugitive or embarrassed comrades before her. In this dilemma, she preserved herself from pursuit by attacking one of her own comrades; she charged the trireme of the Karian prince, Damasithymus, of Kalyndus, ran it down and sunk it, so that the prince with all his crew perished. Had Ameinias been aware that the vessel which he was following was that of Artemisia, nothing would have induced him to relax in the pursuit,—for the Athenian captains were all indignant at the idea of a female invader assailing their city; but knowing her ship only as one among the enemy, and seeing her thus charge and destroy another enemy’s ship, he concluded her to be a deserter, turned his pursuit elsewhere, and suffered her to escape. At the same time, it so happened that the destruction of the ship of Damasithymus happened under the eyes of Xerxes and of the persons around him on shore, who recognized the ship of Artemisia, but supposed the ship destroyed to be a Greek. Accordingly they remarked to him, “Master, seest thou not how well Artemisia fights, and how she has just sunk an enemy’s ship?” Assured that it was really her deed, Xerxes is said to have replied, “My men have become women; my women, men.” Thus was Artemisia not only preserved, but exalted to a higher place in the esteem of Xerxes by the destruction of one of his own ships,—among the crew of which not a man survived to tell the true story.

Of the total loss of either fleet, Herodotus gives us no estimate; but Diodorus states the number of ships destroyed on the Grecian side as forty, on the Persian side as two hundred; independent of those which were made prisoners with all their crews. To the Persian loss is to be added, the destruction of all those troops whom they had landed before the battle in the island of Psyttaleia: as soon as the Persian fleet was put to flight, Aristeides carried over some Grecian hoplites to that island, overpowered the enemy, and put them to death to a man. This loss appears to have been much deplored, as they were choice troops; in great proportion, the native Persian guards.

Great and capital as the victory was, there yet remained after it a sufficient portion of the Persian fleet to maintain even maritime war vigorously, not to mention the powerful land-force, as yet unshaken. And the Greeks themselves, immediately after they had collected in their island, as well as could be done, the fragments of shipping and the dead bodies, made themselves ready for a second engagement. But they were relieved from this necessity by the pusillanimity of the invading monarch, in whom the defeat had occasioned a sudden revulsion from contemptuous confidence, not only to rage and disappointment, but to the extreme of alarm for his own personal safety. He was possessed with a feeling of mingled wrath and mistrust against his naval force, which consisted entirely of subject nations,—Phoenicians, Egyptians, Cilicians, Cyprians, Pamphylians, Ionic Greeks, etc., with a few Persians and Medes serving on board, in a capacity probably not well suited to them. None of these subjects had any interest in the success of the invasion, or any ether motive for s Tvice except fear, while the sympathies of the Ionic Greeks were even decidedly against it. Xerxes now came to suspect the fidelity, or undervalue the courage, of all these naval subjects ; he fancied that they could make no resistance to the Greek fleet, and dreaded lest the latter should sail forthwith to the Hellespont, so as to break down the bridge and intercept his personal retreat; for, upon the maintenance of that bridge he conceived his own safety to turn, not less than that of his father Darius, when retreating from Scythia, upon the preservation of the bridge over the Danube. Against the Phoenicians, from whom he had expected most, his rage broke out in such fierce threats, that they stole away from the fleet in the night, and departed homeward. Such a capital desertion made future naval struggle still more hopeless, and Xerxes, though at first breathing revenge, and talking about a vast mole or bridge to be thrown across the strait to Salamis, speedily ended by giving orders to the whole fleet to leave Phalerum in the night,—not without disembarking, however, the best soldiers who served on board. They were to make straight for the Hellespont, and there to guard the bridge against his arrival.

This resolution was prompted by Mardonius, who saw the real terror which beset his master, and read therein sufficient evidence of danger to himself. When Xerxes despatched to Susa intelligence of his disastrous overthrow, the feeling at home was not simply that of violent grief for the calamity, and fear for the personal safety of the monarch,—it was farther imbittered by anger against Mardonius, as the instigator of this ruinous enterprise. That general knew full well that there was no safety for him in returning to Persia with the shame of failure on his head: it was better for him to take upon himself the chance of subduing Greece, which he had good hopes of being yet able to do—and to advise the return of Xerxes himself to a safe and easy residence in Asia. Such counsel was eminently palatable to the present alarm of the monarch, while it opened to Mardonius himself a fresh chance not only of safety, but of increased power and glory. Accordingly, he began to reassure his master, by representing that the recent blow was after all not serious,—that it had only fallen upon the inferior part of his force, and upon worthless foreign slaves, like Phoenicians, Egyptians, etc., while the native Persian troops yet remained unconquered and unconquerable, fully adequate to execute the monarch’s revenge upon Hellas;—that Xerxes might now very well retire with the bulk of his army if he were disposed, and that he, Mardonius, would pledge himself to complete the conquest, at the head of three hundred thousand chosen troops. This proposition afforded at the same time consolation for the monarch’s wounded vanity, and safety for his person: his confidential Persians, and Artemisia herself, on being consulted, approved of the step. The latter had acquired his confidence by the dissuasive advice which she had given before the recent deplorable engagement, and she had every motive now to encourage a proposition indicating solicitude for his person, as well as relieving herself from the obligation of farther service. “If Mardonius desires to remain (she remarked, contemptuously), by all means let him have the troops : should he succeed, thou w tit be the gainer: should he even perish, the loss of some of thy slaves is trifling, so long as thou remainest safe, and thy house in power. Thou hast already accomplished the purpose of thy expedition, in burning Athens.” Xerxes, while adopting this counsel, and directing the return of his fleet, showed his satisfaction with the Halikarnassian queen, by intrusting her with some of his children, directing her to transport them to Ephesus.

The Greeks at Salamis learned with surprise and joy the departure of the hostile fleet from the bay of Phalerum, and immediately put themselves m pursuit; following as far as the island of Andros without success. Themistokles and the Athenians are even said to have been anxious to push on forthwith to the Hellespont, and there break down the bridge of boats, in order to prevent the escape of Xerxes,—had they not been restrained by the caution of Eurybiades and the Peloponnesians, who represented that it was dangerous to detain the Persian monarch in the heart of Greece. Themistokles readily suffered himself to be persuaded, and contributed much to divert his countrymen from the idea; while he at the same time sent the faithful Sikinnus a second time to Xerxes, with the intimation that he, Themistokles, had restrained the impatience of the Greeks to proceed without delay and burn the Hellespontine bridge, and that he had thus, from personal friendship to the monarch, secured for him a safe retreat. Though this is the story related by Herodotus, we can hardly believe that, with the great Persian land-force in the heart of Attica, there could have been any serious idea of so distant an operation as that of attack­ing the bridge at the Hellespont. It seems more probable that Themistokles fabricated the intention, with a view of frightening Xerxes away, as well as of establishing a personal claim upon his gratitude in reserve for future contingences.

Such crafty manoeuvres and long-sighted calculations of pos­sibility, seem extraordinary: but the facts are sufficiently attested,—since Themistokles lived to claim as well as to receive fulfilment of the obligation thus conferred,—and though extraordinary, they will not appear inexplicable, if we reflect, first, that the Persian game, even now, after the defeat of Salamis, was not only not desperate, but might perfectly well have succeeded, if it had been played with reasonable prudence: next, that there existed in the mind of this eminent man an almost unparalleled combination of splendid patriotism, long-sighted cunning, and selfish rapacity. Themistokles knew better than any one else that the cause of Greece had appeared utterly desperate, only a few hours before the late battle: moreover, a clever man, tainted with such constant guilt, might naturally calculate on being one day detected and punished, even if the Greeks proved successful.

He now employed the fleet among the islands of the Cyclades, for the purpose of levying fines upon them as a punishment for adherence to the Persian. lie first laid siege to Andros, telling the inhabitants that he came to demand their money, bringing with him two great gods,—Persuasion and Necessity. To which the Andrians replied, that  Athens was a great city, and blest with excellent gods : but that they were miserably poor, and that there were two unkind gods who always stayed with them and would never quit the island,—Poverty and Helplessness. In these gods the Andrians put their trust, refusing to deliver the money required; for the power of Athens could never overcome their inability. While the fleet was engaged in contending against the Andrians with their sad protecting deities, Themisto­kles sent round to various other cities, demanding from them private sums of money on condition of securing them from attack. From Karystus, Paros, and other places, he thus extorted bribes for himself apart from the other generals, but it appears that Andros was found unproductive, and after no very long absence, the fleet was brought back to Salamis.

The intimation sent by Themistokles perhaps had the effect of hastening the departure of Xerxes, who remained in Attica only a few days after the battle of Salamis, and then withdrew his army through Boeotia into Thessaly, where Mardonius made choice of the troops to be retained for his future operations. He retained all the Persians, Medes, Sakae, Bactrians, and Indians, horse as well as foot, together with select detachments of the remaining contingents: making in all, according to Herodotus, three hundred thousand men. But as it was now the beginning of September, and as sixty thousand out of his forces, under Artabazus, were destined to escort Xerxes himself to the Helle­spont, Mardonius proposed to winter in Thessaly, and to postpone farther military operations until the ensuing spring.

Having left most of these troops under the orders of Mardonius in Thessaly, Xerxes marched away with the rest to the Hellespont, by the same road as he had taken in his advance a few months before. Respecting Ins retreat, a plentiful stock of stories were circulated,—inconsistent with each other, fanciful and even incredible: Grecian imagination, in the contemporary poet Aeschylus, as well as in the Latin moralizers Seneca or Juvenal, delighted in handling this invasion with the maximum of light and shadow,—magnifying the destructive misery and humilia­tion of the retreat so as to form an impressive contrast with the superhuman pride of the advance, and illustrating the antithesis with unbounded license of detail. The sufferings from want of provision were doubtless severe, and are described as frightful and death-dealing: the magazines stored up for the advancing march had been exhausted, so that the retiring army were now forced to seize upon the corn of the country through which they passed,—an insufficient maintenance, eked out by leaves, grass, the bark of trees, and other wretched substitutes for food. Plague and dysentery aggravated their misery, and occasioned many to be left behind among the cities through whose territory the retreat was carried; strict orders being left by Xerxes that these cities should maintain and tend them. After forty-five days’ march from Attica, he at length found himself at the Hellespont, whither his fleet, retreating from Salamis, had arrived long before him. But the short-lived bridge had already been knocked to pieces by a storm, so that the army was transported on shipboard across to Asia, where it first obtained comfort and abundance, and where the change from privation to excess engendered new maladies. In the time of Herodotus, the citizens of Abdera still showed the gilt cimeter and tiara, which Xerxes had presented to them when he halted there in his retreat, in token of hospitality and satisfaction: and they even went the length of affirming that never, since his departure from Attica, had he loosened his girdle until he reached their city. So fertile was Grecian fancy in magnifying the terror of the repulsed invader! who reentered Sardis, with a broken army and hum­bled spirit, only eight months after he had left it, as the presumed conqueror of the western world.

Meanwhile the Athenians and Peloponnesians, liberated from the immediate presence of the enemy either on land or sea, and passing from the extreme of terror to sudden ease and security, indulged in the full delight and self-congratulation of unexpected victory. On the day before the battle, Greece had seemed irretrievably lost: she was now saved even against all reasonable hope, and the terrific cloud impending over her was dispersed. In the division of the booty, the Aeginetans were adjudged to have distinguished themselves most in the action, and to be entitled to the choice lot; while various tributes of gratitude were also set apart for the gods. Among them were three Phenician triremes, which were offered in dedication to Ajax at Salamis, to Athene at Sunium, and to Poseidon at the isthmus of Corinth; farther presents were sent to Apollo at Delphi, who, on being asked whether he was satisfied, replied, that all had done their duty to him except the Aeginetans: from them he required additional munificence on account of the prize awarded to them, and they were constrained to dedicate in the temple four golden stars upon a staff of brass, which Herodotus himself saw there. Next to the Aeginetans, the second place of honor was awarded to the Athenians; the Aeginetan Polykritus, and the Athenians Eumenes and Ameinias, being ranked first among the individual combatants. Respecting the behavior of Adeimantus and the Corinthians in the battle, the Athenians of the time of Herodo­tus drew the most unfavorable picture, representing them to have fled at the commencement, and to have been only brought back by the information that the Greeks were gaining the victory. Considering the character of the debates which had preceded, and the impatient eagerness manifested by the Corinthians to fight at the Isthmus instead of at Salamis, some such backward­ness on their part, when forced into a battle at the latter place, would not be in itself improbable: yet in this case it seems that not only the Corinthians themselves, but also the general voice of Greece, contradicted the Athenian story, and defended them as having behaved with bravery and forwardness. We must recollect that, at the time when Herodotus probably collected his information, a bitter feeling of hatred prevailed between Athens and Corinth, and Aristius, son of Adeimantus, was among the most efficient enemies of the former.

Besides the first and second prizes of valor, the chiefs at the Isthmus tried to adjudicate among themselves the first and second prizes of skill and wisdom. Each of them deposited two names on the altar of Poseidon: and when these votes came to be looked at, it was found that each man had voted for himself as deserving the first prize, but that Themistokles had a large majority of votes for the second. The result of such voting allowed no man to claim the first prize, nor could the chiefs give a second prize without it; so that Themistokles was disappointed of his reward, though exalted so much the higher, perhaps, through that very disappointment, in general renown. He went shortly afterwards to Sparta, where he received from the Lacedaemonians honors such as were never paid, before nor after­wards, to any foreigner. A crown of olive was indeed given to Eurybiades as the first prize, but a like crown was at the same time conferred on Themistokles as a special reward for unparalleled sagacity; together with a chariot, the finest which the city afforded. Moreover, on his departure, the three hundred select youths called Hippeis, who formed the active guard and police of the country, all accompanied him in a body as escort of honor to the frontiers of Tegea. Such demonstrations were so astonishing, from the haughty and immovable Spartans, that they were ascribed by some authors to their fear lest Themistokles should be offended by being deprived of the general prize, and they are even said to have excited the jealousy of the Athenians so much, that he was displaced from his post of general and Xanthippus nominated. Neither of these last reports is likely to be true, nor is cither of them confirmed by Herodotus: the fact that Xanthippus became general of the fleet during the ensuing year, is in the regular course of Athenian change of officers, and implies no peculiar jealousy of Themistocles.