Callias related the incidents of his journey, and expressed some surprise that the Corinthian captain had not taken him prisoner, and that the blockade was so negligently kept.
“And you did not understand what all this meant?”
“No; I understood nothing.”
“My dear friend,” said the merchant, “it simply means that Lysander is going to starve us out, and that the more there are of us the easier and the speedier his work will be. This has been his policy all along. He has taken no prisoners. Whenever he has taken a city, and there is hardly one that has not either been taken or given itself up, he has sent every Athenian citizen home. They are simply put on their parole to come here. The consequence is that the city is fairly swarming with people, and that there is next to no food. I have a good store—for some time past I have kept myself well provisioned, not knowing what might happen—and I am able to do something for my poor neighbors. But the state of things in the city is simply awful. People, and people too whom I know as really well-to-do citizens, are dying of sheer starvation. As for the poor women and children it is truly heart breaking. Oh, my dear friend, if you had only stopped away; for here you can do nothing. But I knew you would come back, and I honor you for it.”
“But can nothing be done?” cried the young man. “It is better to die than be starved like a wolf in his den.”
“The people have lost all heart. And indeed, if they were all brave as lions, we are hopelessly outnumbered. Pausanias must have as many as forty thousand men outside the city, for every city in the Island[52] except Argos, has sent its contingent; and we could not muster a fourth part of the number, and such troops too! And where is our fleet? At the bottom of the Ægean, or in the arsenals of the enemy. I do not suppose that there are fifty ships, all told, in our docks. And of these a third are not sea-worthy. No, we must submit; and yet it is almost as much as a man’s life is worth to mention the word.”
“But could we not make terms of some kind, not good terms I fear, but still such as would be endurable? Has anything been done?”
“The Senate sent to Agis, who was at Deccleia,[53] and proposed peace on these terms: Athens was to become the ally of Sparta on the condition of having the same friends and the same enemies, but was to be allowed to keep the Long Walls[54] and the Piraeus. Agis said that he had no authority to treat, and bade the envoys go to Sparta. So they came back here, and were directed to go. They reached a place on the borders of Laconia and sent on their message to the ephors at Sparta, not being allowed to proceed any further themselves. The ephors sent back this answer: ‘Begone instantly; if the Athenians really desire peace, let them send you again with other proposals, such as having reflected more wisely they may be disposed to make.’ So the envoys returned. Some had hoped that they would do some good. I must confess that I had not. There was terrible dismay. At last one Archistratus plucked up courage to speak. ‘The Lacedaemonians can force us to accept what conditions they please. Let us acknowledge what we cannot deny, and make peace with them on their own terms.’ There was a howl of rage at this, for in truth the Lacedaemonian terms were nothing less than this: ‘Pull down a mile of the Long Walls, and give up your fleet.’ The unlucky Archistratus was thrown into prison where he lies still. Well, one said one thing, one another. At last Theramenes got up and said: ‘The real manager of affairs is neither Agis nor Pausanias, nor even the Ephors, but Lysander. Send me to him—he is a personal friend of mine own—and I will make the best terms I can with him.’ To this the assembly agreed, having indeed nothing better to do. That was three or four days ago. Theramenes started the same night. I very much doubt whether he will be able to do any good. I am not even sure that he means to. But we shall see.”
A miserable period of waiting followed. Day after day passed, and the envoy neither returned nor sent any communication to his fellow countrymen. No one knew where he was. Whether he was still with Lysander or had gone on to Sparta—all was a mystery. Meanwhile the distress in the city grew more and more acute. Callias had taken up his abode with Hippocles, and was so out of absolute want. He was perfectly ready to acquiesce in the extreme frugality which was the rule of the house. Free and bond all fared alike, and none had anything beyond the most absolute necessaries of life. Whatever could be spared was devoted to the relief of the needy.
Not the least trying part of the situation was the forced inaction. Not even a sally was made. Indeed, it would have been a useless waste of life. Not only were the forces of the enemy vastly superior, but the besieged soldiers were almost unable to support the weight of their arms, so scanty was the fare to which they were reduced. There were times when Callias was disposed to rush sword in hand on some outpost of the enemy, sell his life as dearly as he could, and perish.