Hardly was the fleet mustered at Salamis, and the Athenian population removed, when Xerxes and his host overran the deserted country, his fleet occupying the roadstead of Phalêrum with the coast adjoining. His land-force had been put in motion under the guidance of the Thessalians, two or three days after the battle of Thermopylæ, and he was assured by some Arcadians who came to seek service, that the Peloponnesians were, even at that moment, occupied with the celebration of the Olympic games. “What prize does the victor receive?” he asked. Upon the reply made, that the prize was a wreath of the wild olive, Tritantæchmês, son of the monarch’s uncle Artabanus, is said to have burst forth, notwithstanding the displeasure both of the monarch himself and of the bystanders: “Heavens, Mardonius, what manner of men are these against whom thou hast brought us to fight! men who contend not for money, but for honor!”[225] Whether this be a remark really delivered, or a dramatic illustration imagined by some contemporary of Herodotus, it is not the less interesting as bringing to view a characteristic of Hellenic life, which contrasts not merely with the manners of contemporary Orientals, but even with those of the earlier Greeks themselves during the Homeric times.
Among all the various Greeks between Thermopylæ and the borders of Attica, there were none except the Phocians disposed to refuse submission: and they refused only because the paramount influence of their bitter enemies the Thessalians made them despair of obtaining favorable terms.[226] Nor would they even listen to a proposition of the Thessalians, who, boasting that it was in their power to guide as they pleased the terrors of the Persian host, offered to insure lenient treatment to the territory of Phocis, provided a sum of fifty talents were paid to them.[227] The proposition being indignantly refused, they conducted Xerxes through the little territory of Doris, which medized and escaped plunder, into the upper valley of the Kephisus, among the towns of the inflexible Phocians. All of them were found deserted; the inhabitants having previously escaped either to the wide-spreading summit of Parnassus, called Tithorea, or even still farther, across that mountain into the territory of the Ozolian Lokrians. Ten or a dozen small Phocian towns, the most considerable of which were Elateia and Hyampolis, were sacked and destroyed by the invaders, nor was the holy temple and oracle of Apollo at Abæ better treated than the rest: all its treasures were pillaged, and it was then burnt. From Panopeus Xerxes detached a body of men to plunder Delphi, marching with his main army through Bœotia, in which country he found all the towns submissive and willing, except Thespiæ and Platæa: both were deserted by their citizens, and both were now burnt. From hence he conducted his army into the abandoned territory of Attica, reaching without resistance the foot of the acropolis at Athens.[228]
Very different was the fate of that division which he had detached from Panopeus against Delphi: Apollo defended his temple here more vigorously than at Abæ. The cupidity of the Persian king was stimulated by accounts of the boundless wealth accumulated at Delphi, especially the profuse donations of Crœsus. The Delphians, in the extreme of alarm, while they sought safety for themselves on the heights of Parnassus, and for their families by transport across the gulf into Achaia, consulted the oracle whether they should carry away or bury the sacred treasures. Apollo directed them to leave the treasures untouched, saying that he was competent himself to take care of his own property. Sixty Delphians alone ventured to remain, together with Akêratus, the religious superior: but evidences of superhuman aid soon appeared to encourage them. The sacred arms suspended in the interior cell, which no mortal hand was ever permitted to touch, were seen lying before the door of the temple; and when the Persians, marching along the road called Schistê, up that rugged path under the steep cliffs of Parnassus which conducts to Delphi, had reached the temple of Athênê Pronœa,—on a sudden, dreadful thunder was heard,—two vast mountain crags detached themselves and rushed down with deafening noise among them, crushing many to death,—the war-shout was also heard from the interior of the temple of Athênê. Seized with a panic terror, the invaders turned round and fled; pursued not only by the Delphians, but also, as they themselves affirmed, by two armed warriors of superhuman stature and destructive arm. The triumphant Delphians confirmed this report, adding that the two auxiliaries were the heroes Phylakus and Autonoüs, whose sacred precincts were close adjoining: and Herodotus himself when he visited Delphi, saw in the sacred ground of Athênê the identical masses of rock which had overwhelmed the Persians.[229] Thus did the god repel these invaders from his Delphian sanctuary and treasures, which remained inviolate until one hundred and thirty years afterwards, when they were rifled by the sacrilegious hands of the Phocian Philomêlus. On this occasion, as will be seen presently, the real protectors of the treasures were the conquerors at Salamis and Platæa.
Four months had elapsed since the departure from Asia when Xerxes reached Athens, the last term of his advance. He brought with him the members of the Peisistratid family, who doubtless thought their restoration already certain,—and a few Athenian exiles attached to their interest. Though the country was altogether deserted, the handful of men collected in the acropolis ventured to defy him: nor could all the persuasions of the Peisistratids, eager to preserve the holy place from pillage, induce them to surrender.[230] The Athenian acropolis,—a craggy rock rising abruptly about one hundred and fifty feet, with a flat summit of about one thousand feet long from east to west, by five hundred feet broad from north to south,—had no practicable access except on the western side:[231] moreover, in all parts where there seemed any possibility of climbing up, it was defended by the ancient fortification called the Pelasgic wall. Obliged to take the place by force, the Persian army was posted around the northern and western sides, and commenced their operations from the eminence immediately adjoining on the northwest, called Areopagus:[232] from whence they bombarded, if we may venture upon the expression, with hot missiles, the woodwork before the gates; that is, they poured upon it multitudes of arrows with burning tow attached to them. The wooden palisades and boarding presently took fire and were consumed: but when the Persians tried to mount to the assault by the western road leading up to the gate, the undaunted little garrison still kept them at bay, having provided vast stones, which they rolled down upon them in the ascent. For a time the Great King seemed likely to be driven to the slow process of blockade; but at length some adventurous men among the besiegers tried to scale the precipitous rock before them on its northern side, hard by the temple or chapel of Aglaurus, which lay nearly in front of the Persian position, but behind the gates and the western ascent. Here the rock was naturally so inaccessible, that it was altogether unguarded, and seemingly even unfortified:[233] moreover, the attention of the little garrison was all concentrated on the host which fronted the gates. Hence the separate escalading party was enabled to accomplish their object unobserved, and to reach the summit in the rear of the garrison; who, deprived of their last hope, either cast themselves headlong from the walls, or fled for safety to the inner temple. The successful escaladers opened the gates to the entire Persian host, and the whole acropolis was presently in their hands. Its defenders were slain, its temples pillaged, and all its dwellings and buildings, sacred as well as profane, consigned to the flames.[234] The citadel of Athens fell into the hands of Xerxes by a surprise, very much the same as that which had placed Sardis in those of Cyrus.[235]
Thus was divine prophecy fulfilled: Attica passed entirely into the hands of the Persians, and the conflagration of Sardis was retaliated upon the home and citadel of its captors, as it also was upon their sacred temple of Eleusis. Xerxes immediately despatched to Susa intelligence of the fact, which is said to have excited unmeasured demonstrations of joy, confuting, seemingly, the gloomy predictions of his uncle Artabanus.[236] On the next day but one, the Athenian exiles in his suite received his orders, or perhaps obtained his permission, to go and offer sacrifice amidst the ruins of the acropolis, and atone, if possible, for the desecration of the ground: they discovered that the sacred olive-tree near the chapel of Erechtheus, the special gift of the goddess Athênê, though burnt to the ground by the recent flames, had already thrown out a fresh shoot of one cubit long,—at least the piety of restored Athens afterwards believed this encouraging portent,[237] as well as that which was said to have been seen by Dikæus, an Athenian companion of the Peisistratids, in the Thriasian plain. It was now the day set apart for the celebration of the Eleusinian mysteries; and though in this sorrowful year there was no celebration, nor any Athenians in the territory, Dikæus still fancied that he beheld the dust and heard the loud multitudinous chant, which was wont to accompany in ordinary times the processional march from Athens to Eleusis. He would even have revealed the fact to Xerxes himself, had not Demaratus deterred him from doing so: but he as well as Herodotus construed it as an evidence that the goddesses themselves were passing over from Eleusis to help the Athenians at Salamis. But whatever may have been received in after times, on that day certainly no man could believe in the speedy resurrection of conquered Athens as a free city: not even if he had witnessed the portent of the burnt olive-tree suddenly sprouting afresh with preternatural vigor. So hopeless did the circumstances of the Athenians then appear, not less to their confederates assembled at Salamis than to the victorious Persians.
About the time of the capture of the acropolis, the Persian fleet also arrived safely in the bay of Phalêrum, reinforced by ships from Karystus as well as from various islands of the Cyclades, so that Herodotus reckons it to have been as strong as before the terrible storm at Sêpias Aktê,—an estimate certainly not admissible.[238]
Soon after their arrival, Xerxes himself descended to the shore to inspect the fleet, as well as to take counsel with the various naval leaders about the expediency of attacking the hostile fleet, now so near him in the narrow strait between Salamis and the coasts of Attica. He invited them all to take their seats in an assembly, wherein the king of Sidon occupied the first place and the king of Tyre the second. The question was put to each of them separately by Mardonius, and when we learn that all pronounced in favor of immediate fighting, we may be satisfied that the decided opinion of Xerxes himself must have been well known to them beforehand. One exception alone was found to this unanimity,—Artemisia, queen of Halikarnassus in Karia; into whose mouth Herodotus puts a speech of some length, deprecating all idea of fighting in the narrow strait of Salamis,—predicting that if the land-force were moved forward to attack Peloponnesus, the Peloponnesians in the fleet at Salamis would return for the protection of their own homes, and thus the fleet would disperse, the rather as there was little or no food in the island,—and intimating, besides, unmeasured contempt for the efficacy of the Persian fleet and seamen as compared with the Greek, as well as for the subject contingents of Xerxes generally. That queen Artemisia gave this prudent counsel, there is no reason to question; and the historian of Halikarnassus may have had means of hearing the grounds on which her opinion rested: but I find a difficulty in believing that she can have publicly delivered any such estimate of the maritime subjects of Persia,—an estimate not merely insulting to all who heard it, but at the time not just, though it had come to be nearer the truth at the time when Herodotus wrote,[239] and though Artemisia herself may have lived to entertain the conviction afterwards. Whatever may have been her reasons, the historian tells us that friends as well as rivals were astonished at her rashness in dissuading the monarch from a naval battle, and expected that she would be put to death. But Xerxes heard the advice with perfect good temper, and even esteemed the Karian queen the more highly: though he resolved that the opinion of the majority, or his own opinion, should be acted upon: and orders were accordingly issued for attacking the next day,[240] while the land-force should move forward towards Peloponnesus.
Whilst on the shore of Phalêrum, an omnipotent will compelled seeming unanimity and precluded all real deliberation,—great, indeed, was the contrast presented by the neighboring Greek armament at Salamis, among the members of which unmeasured dissension had been reigning. It has already been stated that the Greek fleet had originally got together at that island, not with any view of making it a naval station, but simply in order to cover and assist the emigration of the Athenians. This object being accomplished, and Xerxes being already in Attica, Eurybiadês convoked the chiefs to consider what position was the fittest for a naval engagement. Most of them, especially those from Peloponnesus, were averse to remaining at Salamis, and proposed that the fleet should be transferred to the isthmus of Corinth, where it would be in immediate communication with the Peloponnesian land-force, so that in case of defeat at sea, the ships would find protection on shore, and the men would join in the land service,—while if worsted in a naval action near Salamis, they would be inclosed in an island from whence there were no hopes of escape.[241] In the midst of the debate, a messenger arrived with news of the capture and conflagration of Athens and her acropolis by the Persians: and such was the terror produced by this intelligence, that some of the chiefs, without even awaiting the conclusion of the debate and the final vote, quitted the council forthwith, and began to hoist sail, or prepare their rowers, for departure. The majority came to a vote for removing to the Isthmus, but as night was approaching, actual removal was deferred until the next morning.[242]
Now was felt the want of a position like that of Thermopylæ, which had served as a protection to all the Greeks at once, so as to check the growth of separate fears and interests. We can hardly wonder that the Peloponnesian chiefs,—the Corinthian in particular, who furnished so large a naval contingent, and within whose territory the land-battle at the Isthmus seemed about to take place,—should manifest such an obstinate reluctance to fight at Salamis, and should insist on removing to a position where, in case of naval defeat, they could assist, and be assisted by, their own soldiers on land. On the other hand, Salamis was not only the most favorable position, in consequence of its narrow strait, for the inferior numbers of the Greeks, but could not be abandoned without breaking up the unity of the allied fleet; since Megara and Ægina would thus be left uncovered, and the contingents of each would immediately retire for the defence of their own homes,—while the Athenians also, a large portion of whose expatriated families were in Salamis and Ægina, would be in like manner distracted from combined maritime efforts at the Isthmus. If transferred to the latter place, probably not even the Peloponnesians themselves would have remained in one body; for the squadrons of Epidaurus, Trœzen, Hermionê, etc., each fearing that the Persian fleet might make a descent on one or other of these separate ports, would go home to repel such a contingency, in spite of the efforts of Eurybiadês to keep them together. Hence the order for quitting Salamis and repairing to the Isthmus was nothing less than a sentence of extinction for all combined maritime defence; and it thus became doubly abhorrent to all those who, like the Athenians, Æginetans, and Megarians, were also led by their own separate safety to cling to the defence of Salamis. In spite of all such opposition, however, and in spite of the protest of Themistoklês, the obstinate determination of the Peloponnesian leaders carried the vote for retreat, and each of them went to his ship to prepare for it on the following morning.
When Themistoklês returned to his ship, with the gloom of this melancholy resolution full upon his mind, and with the necessity of providing for removal of the expatriated Athenian families in the island as well as for that of the squadron,—he found an Athenian friend named Mnêsiphilus, who asked him what the synod of chiefs had determined. Concerning this Mnêsiphilus, who is mentioned generally as a sagacious practical politician, we unfortunately have no particulars: but it must have been no common man whom fame selected, truly or falsely, as the inspiring genius of Themistoklês. On learning what had been resolved, Mnêsiphilus burst out into remonstrance on the utter ruin which its execution would entail: there would presently be neither any united fleet to fight, nor any aggregate cause and country to fight for.[243] He vehemently urged Themistoklês again to open the question, and to press by every means in his power for a recall of the vote for retreat, as well as for a resolution to stay and fight at Salamis. Themistoklês had already in vain tried to enforce the same view: but disheartened as he was by ill-success, the remonstrances of a respected friend struck him so forcibly as to induce him to renew his efforts. He went instantly to the ship of Eurybiadês, asked permission to speak with him, and being invited aboard, reopened with him alone the whole subject of the past discussion, enforcing his own views as emphatically as he could. In this private communication, all the arguments bearing upon the case were more unsparingly laid open than it had been possible to do in an assembly of the chiefs, who would have been insulted if openly told that they were likely to desert the fleet when once removed from Salamis. Speaking thus freely and confidentially, and speaking to Eurybiadês alone, Themistoklês was enabled to bring him partially round, and even prevailed upon him to convene a fresh synod. So soon as this synod had assembled, even before Eurybiadês had explained the object and formally opened the discussion, Themistoklês addressed himself to each of the chief’s separately, pouring forth at large his fears and anxiety as to the abandonment of Salamis: insomuch that the Corinthian Adeimantus rebuked him by saying: “Themistoklês, those who in the public festival-matches rise up before the proper signal, are scourged.” “True, (rejoined the Athenian), but those who lag behind the signal win no crowns.”[244]