CHAPTER III.
The Defense on the Acropolis.
“Dim is the scene to that which greets thee here,
Prompting to worship, waking rapture’s tear,
Yes, rise, fair mount! the bright blue heavens to kiss,
Stoop not thy pride, august Acropolis!”
Nicholas Michell.
The city of Athens was seething with excitement, for the news had just been received that the Greek soldiers had been unable to hold the pass of Thermopylæ. The streets were filled with groups of agitated old men, women of all ages, and children, who seemed no longer capable of being controlled by reason. Weighted down by the burdens of their personal property they prepared to flee. But whither!
In the center of a group near the Areopagus, at the foot of the Acropolis on the north-west, were gathered about fifty men, women and children intently listening to the counsel of one to whom they turned at this time. He was a man of venerable countenance, flowing beard, and wore a white chiton with a handsomely embroidered Greek border.
“My friends,” he was saying, “let us make haste to the top of the Acropolis, there to defend our temples and to seek refuge within the ‘wooden wall.’”
Some of his audience seemed inclined to take his admonition seriously, others hesitated as if in doubt. Presently a man whose personality was felt before he was actually visible came hurriedly into the group. He possessed a commanding bearing, noble face, an eye piercing and full of fire. There was decision in the swift gestures of his shapely hands. This man was Themistocles, the most powerful Athenian of his time. It was he who had persuaded his fellow-citizens to increase their navy at the time of the war with Aegina, and who sincerely believed that the future safety of his country lay with the ships which were now anchored in the bay of Salamis.