We have already told how Athens sought to capture this city and ruined herself in the enterprise. After that time of triumph Syracuse passed through several decades of terror and woe. Tyrants set their feet on her fair neck, and almost crushed her into the earth. One of these, Dionysius by name, had made his power felt by far-off Greece and nearer Carthage, and for years ruled over Sicily with a rod of iron. His successor, Dion, a friend and pupil of the philosopher Plato, became an oppressor when he came into power. Then another Dionysius gained the throne, a cowardly and drunken wretch, who repeated the acts of his tyrannical father.
Such was the state of affairs in Sicily when Timoleon was dwelling quietly at home in Corinth, a man of fifty, with no ambitious thought and no ruling desire except to reach the end of his sorrow-laden life. So odious now had the tyranny of Dionysius become that the despairing Syracusans sent a pathetic appeal to Corinth, their mother city, praying for aid against this brutal despot and the Carthaginians, who had invaded the island of Sicily in force.
Corinth just then, fortunately, had no war on hand,—a somewhat uncommon condition for a Greek city at that day. The citizens voted at once to send the aid asked for. But who should be the leader? There were danger and difficulty in the enterprise, with little hope for profit, and none of the Corinthian generals or politicians seemed eager to lead this forlorn hope. The archons called out their names one by one, but each in succession declined. The archons had come nearly to their wits' end whom to choose, when from an unknown voice in the assembly came the name "Timoleon." The archons seized eagerly on the suggestion, hastily chose Timoleon for the post which all the leading men declined, and the assembly adjourned.
Timoleon, who sadly needed some active exertion to relieve him from the weight of eating thought, accepted the thankless enterprise, heedless probably of the result. He at once began to gather ships and soldiers. But he found the Corinthians more ready to select a commander than to provide him with means and men. Little money was forthcoming; few men seemed ready to enlist; Timoleon had no great means of his own. In the end he only got together seven triremes and one thousand men,—the most of them mere mercenaries. Three more ships and two hundred men were afterwards added.
And thus, with this small force, Timoleon set out to conquer a city and kingdom on whose conquest Athens, years before, had lavished hundreds of ships and tens of thousands of men in vain. The effort seemed utterly puerile. Was the handful of Corinthians to succeed where all the imperial power of Athens had failed? Yet the gods fought with Timoleon.
In truth, from the day he left Corinth, those presages of fortune, on which the Greeks so greatly depended, gathered about his path across the seas. The signs and tokens were all favorable. While he was at Delphi, seeking the favor of Apollo, a fillet with wreaths and symbols of victory fell from a statue upon his head, and the goddess Persephone told her priestess in a dream that she was about to sail with Timoleon to Sicily, her favorite island. He took, therefore, a special trireme, sacred to the goddesses Demeter and Persephone, both of whom were to accompany him. While at sea this sacred trireme was illumined by a light from heaven, while a burning torch on high seemed to guide the fleet to a safe harbor. All these portents filled the adventurers with hope and joy.
But Timoleon had himself to depend on as well as the gods. At the Italian port of Rhegium he found Hicetas, the despot of a Sicilian city, who had invited him to Sicily, but was now allied with the Carthaginians. He had there twenty of the war-ships of Carthage, double the force of Timoleon. Yet the shrewd Corinthian played with and tricked him, set him to talking and the people of Rhegium to talking with him, and slipped slyly out of the harbor with his ships while the interminable talk went on.
This successful stratagem redoubled the spirit of his followers. Landing at a small town on the Sicilian coast, a new enterprise presented itself. Forty miles inland lay the town of Adranum, sacred to the god Adranus, a deity worshipped throughout Sicily. There were two parties in Adranum, one of which invited Timoleon, the other Hicetas. The latter at once started thither, with a force of five thousand men, an army with which that of Timoleon seemed too small to cope. But heedless of this discrepancy Timoleon hastened thither, and on arriving near the town perceived that the opposing army had outstripped him in speed. Hicetas, not aware of the approach of a foe, had encamped, and his men were disarmed and at their suppers.
The small army of Timoleon, worn out with their long and rapid march, and in sight of an enemy four times their number, were loath to move farther; but their leader, who knew that his only chance for victory lay in a surprise, urged them forward, seized his shield and placed himself at their head, and led them so suddenly on the foe that the latter, completely surprised, fled in utter panic. Three hundred were killed, six hundred taken, and the rest, abandoning their camp, hastened at all speed back to Syracuse.
Again the gods spoke in favor of Timoleon. Just as the battle began the gates of the temple of Adranus burst open, and the god himself appeared with brandished spear and perspiring face. So said the awe-struck Adranians, and there was no one to contradict their testimony.