A vast Persian force, both military and naval, was gradually concentrating itself near Milêtus, against which city Artaphernês had determined to direct his principal efforts. Not only the whole army of Asia Minor, but also the Kilikian and Egyptian troops fresh from the conquest of Cyprus, and even the conquered Cypriots themselves, were brought up as reinforcements; while the entire Phenician fleet, no less than six hundred ships strong, coöperated on the coast.[562] To meet such a land-force in the field, being far beyond the strength of the Ionians, the joint Pan-Ionic council resolved that the Milesians should be left to defend their own fortifications, while the entire force of the confederate cities should be mustered on board the ships. At sea they had as yet no reason to despair, having been victorious over the Phenicians near Cyprus, and having sustained no defeat. The combined Ionic fleet, including the Æolic Lesbians, amounting in all to the number of three hundred and fifty-three ships, was accordingly mustered at Ladê,—then a little island near Milêtus, but now joined on to the coast, by the gradual accumulation of land in the bay at the mouth of the Mæander. Eighty Milesian ships formed the right wing, one hundred Chian ships the centre, and sixty Samian ships the left wing; while the space between the Milesians and the Chians was occupied by twelve ships from Priênê, three from Myus, and seventeen from Teôs,—the space between the Chians and Samians was filled by eight ships from Erythræ, three from Phôkæa, and seventy from Lesbos.[563]
The total armament thus made up was hardly inferior in number to that which, fifteen years afterwards, gained the battle of Salamis against a far larger Persian fleet than the present. Moreover, the courage of the Ionians, on ship-board, was equal to that of their contemporaries on the other side of the Ægean; while in respect of disagreement among the allies, we shall hereafter find the circumstances preceding the battle of Salamis still more menacing than those before the coming battle of Ladê. The chances of success, therefore, were at least equal between the two; and indeed the anticipations of the Persians and Phenicians on the present occasion were full of doubt, so that they thought it necessary to set on foot express means for disuniting the Ionians,—it was fortunate for the Greeks that Xerxês at Salamis could not be made to conceive the prudence of aiming at the same object. There were now in the Persian camp all those various despots whom Aristagoras, at the beginning of the revolt, had driven out of their respective cities. At the instigation of Artaphernês, each of these men despatched secret communications to their citizens in the allied fleet, endeavoring to detach them severally from the general body, by promises of gentle treatment in the event of compliance, and by threats of extreme infliction from the Persians if they persisted in armed efforts. Though these communications were sent to each without the knowledge of the rest, yet the answer from all was one unanimous negative.[564] And the confederates at Ladê seemed more one, in heart and spirit, than the Athenians, Spartans, and Corinthians will hereafter prove to be at Salamis.
But there was one grand difference which turned the scale,—the superior energy and ability of the Athenian leaders at Salamis, coupled with the fact that they were Athenians,—that is, in command of the largest and most important contingent throughout the fleet.
At Ladê, unfortunately, this was quite otherwise: each separate contingent had its own commander, but we hear of no joint commander at all. Nor were the chiefs who came from the larger cities—Milesian, Chian, Samian, or Lesbian—men like Themistoklês, competent and willing to stand forward as self-created leaders, and to usurp for the moment, with the general consent and for the general benefit, a privilege not intended for them. The only man of sufficient energy and forwardness to do this, was the Phôkæan Dionysius,—unfortunately, the captain of the smallest contingent of the fleet, and therefore enjoying the least respect. For Phôkæa, once the daring explorer of the western waters, had so dwindled down since the Persian conquest of Ionia, that she could now furnish no more than three ships; and her ancient maritime spirit survived only in the bosom of her captain. When Dionysius saw the Ionians assembled at Ladê, willing, eager, full of talk and mutual encouragement, but untrained and taking no thought of discipline, or nautical practice, or coöperation in the hour of battle,—he saw the risk which they ran for want of these precautions, and strenuously remonstrated with them: “Our fate hangs on the razor’s edge, men of Ionia: either to be freemen or slaves,—and slaves too, caught after running away. Set yourself at once to work and duty,—you will then have trouble indeed at first, with certain victory and freedom afterwards. But if you persist in this carelessness and disorder, there is no hope for you to escape the king’s revenge for your revolt. Be persuaded and commit yourself to me; and I pledge myself, if the gods only hold an equal balance, that your enemies either will not fight, or will be severely beaten.”[565]
The wisdom of this advice was so apparent, that the Ionians, quitting their comfortable tents on the shore of Ladê and going on board their ships, submitted themselves to the continuous nautical labors and manœuvres imposed upon them by Dionysius. The rowers, and the hoplites on the deck, were exercised in their separate functions, and even when they were not so employed, the ships were kept at anchor, and the crews on board, instead of on shore; so that the work lasted all day long, under a hot summer’s sun. Such labor, new to the Ionian crews, was endured for seven successive days, after which they broke out with one accord into resolute mutiny and refusal: “Which of the gods have we offended, to bring upon ourselves such a retribution as this? madmen as we are, to put ourselves into the hands of this Phôkæan braggart, who has furnished only three ships![566] He has now got us, and is ruining us without remedy: many of us are already sick, many others are sickening; we had better make up our minds to Persian slavery, or any other mischiefs, rather than go on with these present sufferings. Come, we will not obey this man any longer.” And they forthwith refused to execute his orders, resuming their tents on shore, with the enjoyments of shade, rest, and inactive talk, as before.
I have not chosen to divest this instructive scene of the dramatic liveliness with which it is given in Herodotus,—the more so as it has all the air of reality, and as Hekatæus, the historian, was probably present in the island of Ladê, and may have described what he actually saw and heard. When we see the intolerable hardship which these nautical manœuvres and labors imposed upon the Ionians, though men not unaccustomed to ordinary ship-work,—and when we witness their perfect incapacity to submit themselves to such a discipline, even with extreme danger staring them in the face,—we shall be able to appreciate the severe and unremitting toil whereby the Athenian seaman afterwards purchased that perfection of nautical discipline which characterized him at the beginning of the Peloponnesian war. It will appear, as we proceed with this history, that the full development of the Athenian democracy worked a revolution in Grecian military marine, chiefly by enforcing upon the citizen seaman a strict continuous training, such as was only surpassed by the Lacedæmonian drill on land,—and by thus rendering practicable a species of nautical manœuvring which was unknown even at the time of the battle of Salamis. I shall show this more fully hereafter: at present, I contrast it briefly with the incapacity of the Ionians at Ladê, in order that it may be understood how painful such training really was. The reader of Grecian history is usually taught to associate only ideas of turbulence and anarchy with the Athenian democracy; but the Athenian navy, the child and champion of that democracy, will be found to display an indefatigable labor and obedience nowhere else witnessed in Greece, and of which even the first lessons, as in the case now before us, prove to others so irksome as to outweigh the prospect of extreme and imminent peril. The same impatience of steady toil and discipline, which the Ionians displayed to their own ruin before the battle of Ladê, will be found to characterize them fifty years afterwards as allies of Athens, as I shall have occasion to show when I come to describe the Athenian empire.
Ending in this abrupt and mutinous manner, the judicious suggestions of the Phôkæan leader did more harm than good. Perhaps his manner of dealing may have been unadvisedly rude, but we are surprised to see that no one among the leaders of the larger contingents had the good sense to avail himself of the first readiness of the Ionians, and to employ his superior influence in securing the continuance of a good practice once begun. Not one such superior man did this Ionic revolt throw up. From the day on which the Ionians discarded Dionysius, their camp became a scene of disunion and mistrust. Some of them grew so reckless and unmanageable, that the better portion despaired of maintaining any orderly battle; and the Samians in particular now repented that they had declined the secret offers made to them by their expelled despot,[567]—Æakês, son of Sylosôn. They sent privately to renew the negotiation, received a fresh promise of the same indulgence, and agreed to desert when the occasion arrived. On the day of battle, when the two fleets were on the point of coming to action, the sixty Samian ships all sailed off, except eleven, whose captains disdained such treachery. Other Ionians followed their example; yet amidst the reciprocal crimination which Herodotus had heard, he finds it difficult to determine who was most to blame, though he names the Lesbians as among the earliest deserters.[568] The hundred ships from Chios, constituting the centre of the fleet—each ship carrying forty chosen soldiers fully armed—formed a brilliant exception to the rest; they fought with the greatest fidelity and resolution, inflicting upon the enemy, and themselves sustaining, heavy loss. Dionysius, the Phôkæan, also behaved in a manner worthy of his previous language,—capturing with his three ships the like number of Phenicians. But these examples of bravery did not compensate the treachery or cowardice of the rest, and the defeat of the Ionians at Ladê was complete as well as irrecoverable. To the faithful Chians, the loss was terrible, both in the battle and after it. For though some of their vessels escaped from the defeat safely to Chios, others were so damaged as to be obliged to run ashore close at hand on the promontory of Mykalê, where the crews quitted them, with the intention of marching northward, through the Ephesian territory, to the continent opposite their own island. We hear with astonishment that, at that critical moment, the Ephesian women were engaged in solemnizing the Thesmophoria,—a festival celebrated at night, in the open air, in some uninhabited portion of the territory, and without the presence of any male person. As the Chian fugitives entered the Ephesian territory by night, their coming being neither known nor anticipated,—it was believed that they were thieves or pirates coming to seize the women, and under this error they were attacked by the Ephesians and slain.[569] It would seem from this incident that the Ephesians had taken no part in the Ionic revolt, nor are they mentioned amidst the various contingents. Nor is anything said either of Kolophon, or Lebedus, or Eræ.[570]
The Phôkæan Dionysius, perceiving that the defeat of Ladê was the ruin of the Ionic cause, and that his native city was again doomed to Persian subjection, did not think it prudent even to return home. Immediately after the battle he set sail, not for Phôkæa, but for the Phenician coast, at this moment stripped of its protecting cruisers. He seized several Phenician merchantmen, out of which considerable profit was obtained: then setting sail for Sicily, he undertook the occupation of a privateer against the Carthaginians and Tyrrhenians, abstaining from injury towards Greeks.[571] Such an employment seems then to have been perfectly admissible. A considerable body of Samians also migrated to Sicily, indignant at the treachery of their admirals in the battle, and yet more indignant at the approaching restoration of their despot Æakês. How these Samian emigrants became established in the Sicilian town of Zanklê,[572] I shall mention as a part of the course of Sicilian events, which will come hereafter.
The victory of Ladê enabled the Persians to attack Milêtus by sea as well as by land; they prosecuted the siege with the utmost vigor, by undermining the walls, and by various engines of attack: in which department their resources seem to have been enlarged since the days of Harpagus. In no long time the city was taken by storm, and miserable was the fate reserved to it. The adult male population was chiefly slain; while such of them as were preserved, together with the women and children, were sent in a body to Susa, to await the orders of Darius,—who assigned to them a residence at Ampê, not far from the mouth of the Tigris. The temple at Branchidæ was burned and pillaged, as Hekatæus had predicted at the beginning of the revolt: the large treasures therein contained must have gone far to defray the costs of the Persian army. The Milesian territory is said to have been altogether denuded of its former inhabitants,—the Persians retaining for themselves the city with the plain adjoining to it, and making over the mountainous portions to the Karians of Pedasa. Some few of the Milesians found a place among the Samian emigrants to Sicily.[573] It is certain, however, that new Grecian inhabitants must have been subsequently admitted into Milêtus; for it appears ever afterwards as a Grecian town, though with diminished power and importance.
The capture of Milêtus, in the sixth year from the commencement of the revolt,[574] carried with it the rapid submission of the neighboring towns in Karia.[575] During the next summer,—the Phenician fleet having wintered at Milêtus,—the Persian forces by sea and land reconquered all the Asiatic Greeks, insular as well as continental. Chios, Lesbos, and Tenedos,—the towns in the Chersonese,—Selymbria and Perinthus in Thrace,—Prokonnêsus and Artakê in the Propontis,—all these towns were taken or sacked by the Persian and Phenician fleet.[576] The inhabitants of Byzantium and Chalkêdôn fled for the most part, without even awaiting its arrival, to Mesembria, and the Athenian Miltiadês only escaped Persian captivity by a rapid flight from his abode in the Chersonese to Athens. His pursuers were indeed so close upon him, that one of his ships, with his son Metiochus on board, fell into their hands. As Miltiadês had been strenuous in urging the destruction of the bridge over the Danube, on the occasion of the Scythian expedition, the Phenicians were particularly anxious to get possession of his person, as the most acceptable of all Greek prisoners to the Persian king; who, however, when Metiochus the son of Miltiadês was brought to Susa, not only did him no harm, but treated him with great kindness, and gave him a Persian wife with a comfortable maintenance.[577]