Callias: A Tale of the Fall of Athens Part 10

A shout of approval more vehement than ever greeted this announcement.

Once more the policy of concession, or shall we say of cowardice prevailed. The magistrates conversed a few moments in hurried whispers, and then advanced to the railings in front of their seats. It was immediately seen that they had yielded, and loud applause followed.

"Hail to the popular magistrates! Hail to the friends of the people!"

was the universal cry. But one was still sitting in his place. His colleagues turned back to bring him. They talked, they gesticulated, they laid hold of him by the arms; they were trying to force him out of his seat. He heeded them not; to all persuasion he returned the same answer: "I am set to administer the laws, and will do nothing that is contrary to them." The most of the house could, of course, hear nothing of what was being said; but they could see plainly what had happened.

"Socrates refuses! Socrates refuses!" was now the cry, followed by shouts of "Death to Socrates!" "Death to the blasphemer! death to the atheist!"

The philosopher sat unmoved, and his colleagues made no further attempt to persuade him. They took what was, perhaps, the only possible course under the circ.u.mstances--for they had not all the martyr-like temper of Socrates--and put the question without him. It was carried by a large majority.

The presiding magistrate, having announced the result of the vote, went on: "Seeing that it has seemed good to the Athenian people to try the generals accused of negligence in saving the lives of citizens, the said generals are hereby put upon their trial. If they, or any citizen on their behalf, wish to address the a.s.sembly, let them or him speak."

It might have been thought that the furious crowd which had been ready to overpower with violence the advocates of const.i.tutional practice would have howled down any who dared to advocate so unpopular a cause.

But it was not so. The majority, having swept away, as they thought, the trammels of technicality, in their eagerness for justice, had no wish to disregard justice by refusing a hearing to persons on their defense. Whatever the faults of the Athenian democracy, it was at least ready to hear both sides. When therefore Euryptolemus rose to address the a.s.sembly on behalf of the generals, an instantaneous silence followed; nor was he interrupted during the delivery of his speech except, it may be, by occasional murmurs of approval. He spoke as follows:

"Men of Athens, I have three things to do now that I address you. First, I have to blame in some degree my dear friend and kinsman Pericles, and my friend Diomedon; second, I have to plead somewhat on their behalf; third, I have to give you such advice as will in my judgment best advantage Athens. I blame them because they, through their generous temper, have taken upon themselves the fault which, if it exists, lies upon others. For indeed what happened after the battle was this: Diomedon advised that the whole fleet should proceed to the relief of the disabled ships and their crews. Herasinides counselled that the whole fleet should be sent in pursuit of the enemy. Meranylus declared that both duties might be discharged together, part being sent against the enemy, and part to help the shipwrecked men. And this last course was actually taken. Forty-seven ships were told off for this duty.

Three, that is, from each of the eight divisions, ten belong to private captains, ten that were from Samos, and three that belonged to the commander-in-chief. And three ships were committed to the charge of Thrasybulus and Theramenes, the very men who now bring these charges against the accused. Yet these men I do not even now, on behalf of the generals, myself accuse. I allow that the violence of the storm prevented them from executing this order which had been given them.

"So far then, men of Athens, do I blame the accused, and I do plead for them. And now let me venture to give you some advice. Give these men time, if it be but one day only, to make their defence. You know that there is yet a form of law by which it is enacted: 'If any person hath aggrieved the people of Athens, he shall be imprisoned and brought to a trial before the people; and in case he be convicted, he shall be put to death and thrown into the pit, his goods and chattels to be confiscated to the state, reserving a tenth part for the G.o.ddess.' By this law try the accused. Give to each a separate day and try them in due order. So will you judge them according to the law, and not seem, as verily you will seem if you adopt the resolution of Callixenus, to be allies of the Lacedaemonians, by putting to death the very men who have taken twenty of their ships.

"Why indeed are you in such vehement haste? Are you afraid to lose your hold of life and death? That right no one doubts or threatens. Should you not rather be afraid lest you put an innocent man to death? One man do I say, nay many innocent men? And lest, afterwards repenting of your deed, you shall reflect how ill and unjustly you have acted? Forbid it, ye G.o.ds, that the Athenians should do any such thing. Take care, therefore, I implore you, that you, being successful, do not act as they often act, who are on the brink of despair and ruin. Only those who are without hope insult the G.o.ds; yet somehow you will insult them, if instead of submitting to them on points that are subject to their will alone, you condemn those men who failed because it was the pleasure of the G.o.ds that they should fail. You would do more justly if you honor these men with crowns of victory rather than visit them with this punishment of death."

A visible effect was produced by this speech. That the republic should put to death its successful generals almost in the moment of victory seemed to many to be the very height of folly, even of impiety. The G.o.ds had favored these men. To lay hands upon them would be an insult to heaven. But supposing they had erred, would it be well for the state to deprive itself of the services of its most skillful servants? This seemed the common sense view. The question was: would it prevail against the sticklers for law, those who were hardened by the sense of personal loss, and the unscrupulous partisans who were ready to seize any pretext for destroying political opponents? The voters filed past the balloting urns, and dropped their votes as they pa.s.sed. No one could guess what the result would be, for no one could watch more than one of the ten pairs of urns--a pair to each tribe--which were placed to receive the suffrages. The process took no little time, and then when it was finished, there was the counting, also a long and tedious process. It was almost dark when the tables were finished.

In the midst of a profound silence the presiding magistrate stood up. It was now dark, and his figure was thrown into striking relief by the lamps with the help of which the votes had been counted. He read the numbers from a small slip of paper.[39] "There have voted," he said, "for condemnation 3254, for acquittal 3102."

The sensation produced by the announcement was intense. Not a few who had voted 'guilty' already half repented of what they had done. Indeed the reaction which ended in the banishment and ultimately the death by starvation of the author of the proposal may be said to have begun at that moment. The general excitement rose to a still higher pitch when the officers of the Eleven, the magistrates to whose custody condemned criminals were handed, were seen making their way, lighted by slaves holding torches, to the place where the accused were sitting. There was not one of the six whose features were not familiar to many in the a.s.sembly. More than one had tendered distinguished service to Athens; and one, Pericles, son of the great statesman by Aspasia, bore a name which no Athenian could p.r.o.nounce without some emotion of pride and grat.i.tude. It so happened that it was he on whom the officers laid hands. Something like a groan went up from the crowd; but it was too late to undo what they had done, and it was too early for the repentance that had already begun to work to have any practical effect. The six were led off to immediate execution.

Callias anxious to say a few words of farewell to his friend and kinsman Diomedon had hurried round, as soon as he heard the announcement of the numbers, to the door by which he knew the condemned would be taken from the place of a.s.sembly. The president of the Eleven who was conducting the matter in person, as became an occasion so important, allowed a brief interview.

The young man was so overcome with grief that he could only throw himself into the arms of his friend and cling to him in speechless agony. Diomedon, on the contrary, was perfectly calm and collected. "My son," he said, "this has ended as badly as I thought that it would--you will remember what I said to you after the battle. For myself, this that I am about to suffer is scarcely a thing to be lamented. It is hard indeed to have such a return for my services to Athens; and I would gladly have served her again. It has not so seemed good to the Athenians. Let it be so. I am delivered from trouble to come. I would not have fled from them willingly, but if my countrymen compel me, why should I complain? That at least Socrates has taught me not to do. And this day has at least brought this good, that no one can doubt hereafter that he believes what he says. For you, my son, I have but one word. Do not despair of your country. A grateful child pays his dues of nurture even to an impa.s.sive mother. And now farewell!"

An hour afterwards he and his colleagues were lying mangled corpses at the bottom of the pit.[40]

FOOTNOTES:

[36] Xenophon, who was probably in Athens at the time, positively a.s.serts that this was done, and I cannot think that the arguments of Mr.

Grote countervail his authority.

[37] The "Eleven" were commissioners of police who had, besides the charge of the guardians of public order, the care of the prisoners, and the custody of criminals.

[38] One of the most notorious instances in modern times was that of the Tartar who after the battle of the Alma invented the news that Sebastopol was taken. The report was almost universally believed in England for some days, and the contradiction of it caused the bitterest disappointment.

[39] Paper made from the rind of the _papyrus_, a reed which grew in the Nile and which the Egyptians knew by the name of _Byblos_ (hence our 'bible'). Parchment in its present form did not become common till much later than this time (even B. C. 150), though skin seems to have been used for writing. For ordinary purposes paper was used.

[40] Mr. Grote says that the condemned generals drank hemlock but it is evident from the report of Euryptolemus which is substantially taken from Xenophon's report that the mode of execution for persons condemned under such charges as that brought against the generals was by being thrown into the Pit. This place was called the _Barathron_ and was within the city walls and was a deep pit with hooks fastened into the walls. The officer in charge of it was called "The Man of the Pit."

CHAPTER XI.

RESCUED.

The execution of the generals was a blow of such severity that Callias was absolutely prostrated by it. As a patriotic Athenian he felt overwhelmed both with shame and with despair. That his country should be capable of such ingrat.i.tude and folly, should allow private revenge or party spite to deprive her of the generals who could lead her troops to victory made it impossible to hope. The end must be near, for the G.o.ds must have smitten her with the madness which they send upon those whom they are determined to destroy. And then he had loved Diomedon almost as a son loves a father. Left an orphan at an early age he had found in this kinsman an affectionate and loyal guardian; and he had made his first acquaintance with war under his auspices. He had in him a friend whom he felt it would be quite impossible to replace.

For some days Callias remained in strict seclusion at home, refusing all visitors, and, in fact, seeing no one, except the aged house-steward, who had been now the faithful servant and friend of three generations of his family. Even when Hippocles himself, on the fifth day after the disastrous meeting of the a.s.sembly, sent in an urgent request that he might be allowed to see him, the steward was directed to meet him with the same refusal. The old man contrary to his custom of prompt and unhesitating obedience, lingered in the room after he had received this answer, and was obviously anxious to speak. "Well! Lycides," said the young man, his attention attracted even in the midst of his preoccupation by this unusual circ.u.mstance, "What is it? What do you want?"

"It would be well, sir," replied the man, "if you would see the worthy Hippocles. He declares that the affair of which he is come is one of the very highest importance."

Callias simply shook his head.

The steward began again, "Oh! sir--"

Callius interrupted him. "You are an old man, and a friend whom my father and my grandfather trusted, and I would not say a harsh word to you. But if you will not leave the room, I must."

The old man's eyes filled with tears. He had never heard his young master speak in such a tone before. Still he would not go, without making another effort.

He rapidly advanced to where his master was sitting, his face buried in his hands, and throwing himself on the ground, caught the young man by the knees.

"Listen, sir," he cried, "I implore you, by the G.o.ds, and by the memory of your father and your grandfather, who both died in my arms."

"Speak on," cried Callias. "It seems I am not my own master any longer."

"Oh! sir," the old man continued, "your liberty, your life is in danger."

These words, uttered as they were in a tone of conviction that could not be mistaken, startled the young man out of the indifference which his profound depression had hardened.

"What do you mean?" he cried.

"I have known it since yesterday at noon," the steward replied, "and have been anxiously thinking over with myself how I could best make it known to you. And now Hippocles has come to say the same thing. For the sake of all the G.o.ds, trust and listen to what he has to tell you."

"Bring him in, if you will have it so," said Callias.

Hippocles came into the room with outstretched hands and caught the young man in a close embrace. The warmth and tenderness of this greeting had the happiest result. Callias was moved from the stupor of grief which had overwhelmed him. Bowing his head on his friend's shoulder, he burst into a pa.s.sion of tears,--for tears were a relief which the most heroic souls of the ancient world did not refuse to themselves. His friend allowed his feelings to express themselves without restraint, and then as the violence of the young man's emotion began to subside, he put in a few words, instinct with heartfelt sympathy, about the friend whom they had lost. Thus, with his usual tact, he waited for Callias himself to open the subject in which he now felt sure his interest had been aroused. It was soon after that the young man asked: "What is this that old Lycides has been saying about my liberty and life being in danger?

He has known it, he says, since yesterday, and you know it too. What can he mean?"

"He is quite right," replied Hippocles. "He knows something and I know something. Now listen. Your parting with Diomedon was observed. The men who murdered him--and by all the G.o.ds! there never was a fouler murder done in Athens--cannot but look for vengeance to come upon them. To avoid it or to postpone it they will stick at nothing. No near friend or relative of their victims is safe. I know--for I have friends in places you would not think--mark you, I _know_ that your name is among those who will be accused in the next a.s.sembly."

"Accused," cried Callias, "accused of what? Of being bound by kindred and affection to one of the n.o.blest of men. By heavens! let them accuse me. I should glory to stand and defend myself on such a charge. If I could only tell that villain Theramenes what I think of him I should be afraid of nothing."

"That is exactly what I thought you would say," replied Hippocles, "nor can I blame you. But have patience. Theramenes will get his deserts if there are G.o.ds in heaven and furies in h.e.l.l. But have patience. Leave his punishment to them. But meanwhile don't give him the chance of burdening his soul with another crime."

"What would you have me do then?" asked Callias.

"Fly from Athens," replied his older friend.

"What! fly, and leave these traitors and murderers to enjoy their triumph! Not so; not if I were to die to-morrow."

"My dear young friend, you will help your country, which, in spite of all her faults, you wish, I presume, to serve, and avenge your friends all the more surely if you will yield to the necessities of the time."