Eurybiadês then explained to the synod that doubts had arisen in his mind, and that he called them together to reconsider the previous resolve: upon which Themistoklês began the debate, and vehemently enforced the necessity of fighting in the narrow sea of Salamis and not in the open waters at the Isthmus,—as well as of preserving Megara and Ægina: contending that a naval victory at Salamis would be not less effective for the defence of Peloponnesus than if it took place at the Isthmus, whereas, if the fleet were withdrawn to the latter point, they would only draw the Persians after them. Nor did he omit to add, that the Athenians had a prophecy assuring to them victory in this, their own island. But his speech made little impression on the Peloponnesian chiefs, who were even exasperated at being again summoned to reopen a debate already concluded,—and concluded in a way which they deemed essential to their safety. In the bosom of the Corinthian Adeimantus, especially, this feeling of anger burst all bounds. He sharply denounced the presumption of Themistoklês, and bade him be silent as a man who had now no free Grecian city to represent,—Athens being in the power of the enemy: nay, he went so far as to contend that Eurybiadês had no right to count the vote of Themistoklês, until the latter could produce some free city as accrediting him to the synod. Such an attack, alike ungenerous and insane, upon the leader of more than half of the whole fleet, demonstrates the ungovernable impatience of the Corinthians to carry away the fleet to their Isthmus: it provoked a bitter retort against them from Themistoklês, who reminded them that while he had around him two hundred well-manned ships, he could procure for himself anywhere both city and territory as good or better than Corinth. But he now saw clearly that it was hopeless to think of enforcing his policy by argument, and that nothing would succeed except the direct language of intimidation. Turning to Eurybiadês, and addressing him personally, he said: “If thou wilt stay here, and fight bravely here, all will turn out well: but if thou wilt not stay, thou wilt bring Hellas to ruin.[245] For with us, all our means of war are contained in our ships. Be thou yet persuaded by me. If not, we Athenians shall migrate with our families on board, just as we are, to Siris in Italy, which is ours from of old, and which the prophecies announce that we are one day to colonize. You chiefs then, when bereft of allies like us, will hereafter recollect what I am now saying.”
Eurybiadês had before been nearly convinced by the impressive pleading of Themistoklês. But this last downright menace clenched his determination, and probably struck dumb even the Corinthian and Peloponnesian opponents: for it was but too plain, that without the Athenians the fleet was powerless. He did not however put the question again to vote, but took upon himself to rescind the previous resolution and to issue orders for staying at Salamis to fight. In this order all acquiesced, willing or unwilling;[246] the succeeding dawn saw them preparing for fight instead of for retreat, and invoking the protection and companionship of the Æakid heroes of Salamis,—Telamon and Ajax: they even sent a trireme to Ægina to implore Æakus himself and the remaining Æakids. It seems to have been on this same day, also, that the resolution of fighting at Salamis was taken by Xerxes, whose fleet was seen in motion, towards the close of the day, preparing for attack the next morning.
But the Peloponnesians, though not venturing to disobey the orders of the Spartan admiral, still retained unabated their former fears and reluctance, which began again after a short interval to prevail over the formidable menace of Themistoklês, and were further strengthened by the advices from the Isthmus. The messengers from that quarter depicted the trepidation and affright of their absent brethren while constructing their cross wall at that point, to resist the impending land invasion. Why were they not there also, to join hands and to help in the defence,—even if worsted at sea,—at least on land, instead of wasting their efforts in defence of Attica, already in the hands of the enemy? Such were the complaints which passed from man to man, with many a bitter exclamation against the insanity of Eurybiadês: at length the common feeling broke out in public and mutinous manifestation, and a fresh synod of the chiefs was demanded and convoked.[247] Here the same angry debate, and the same irreconcilable difference, was again renewed; the Peloponnesian chiefs clamoring for immediate departure, while the Athenians, Æginetans,[248] and Megarians, were equally urgent in favor of staying to fight. It was evident to Themistoklês that the majority of votes among the chiefs would be against him, in spite of the orders of Eurybiadês; and the disastrous crisis, destined to deprive Greece of all united maritime defence, appeared imminent,—when he resorted to one last stratagem to meet the desperate emergency, by rendering flight impossible. Contriving a pretext for stealing away from the synod, he despatched a trusty messenger across the strait with a secret communication to the Persian generals. Sikinnus his slave,—seemingly an Asiatic Greek,[249] who understood Persian, and had perhaps been sold during the late Ionic revolt, but whose superior qualities are marked by the fact that he had the care and teaching of the children of his master,—was instructed to acquaint them privately, in the name of Themistoklês, who was represented as wishing success at heart to the Persians, that the Greek fleet was not only in the utmost alarm, meditating immediate flight, but that the various portions of it were in such violent dissension, that they were more likely to fight against each other than against any common enemy. A splendid opportunity, it was added, was thus opened to the Persians, if they chose to avail themselves of it without delay, first, to inclose and prevent their flight, and then to attack a disunited body, many of whom would, when the combat began, openly espouse the Persian cause.[250]
Such was the important communication despatched by Themistoklês across the narrow strait, only a quarter of a mile in breadth at the narrowest part, which divides Salamis from the neighboring continent on which the enemy were posted. It was delivered with so much address as to produce the exact impression which he intended, and the glorious success which followed caused it to pass for a splendid stratagem: had defeat ensued, his name would have been covered with infamy. What surprises us the most is, that after having reaped signal honor from it in the eyes of the Greeks, as a stratagem, he lived to take credit for it, during the exile of his latter days,[251] as a capital service rendered to the Persian monarch: nor is it improbable, when we reflect upon the desperate condition of Grecian affairs at the moment, that such facility of double interpretation was in part his inducement for sending the message.
It appears to have been delivered to Xerxes shortly after he had issued his orders for fighting on the next morning: and he entered so greedily into the scheme, as to direct his generals to close up the strait of Salamis on both sides during the night,[252] to the north as well as to the south of the town of Salamis, at the risk of their heads if any opening were left for the Greeks to escape. The station of the numerous Persian fleet was along the coast of Attica,—its head-quarters were in the bay of Phalêrum, but doubtless parts of it would occupy those three natural harbors, as yet unimproved by art, which belonged to the deme of Peiræus,—and would perhaps extend besides to other portions of the western coast southward of Phalêrum: while the Greek fleet was in the harbor of the town called Salamis, in the portion of the island facing mount Ægaleos, in Attica. During the night,[253] a portion of the Persian fleet, sailing from Peiræus northward along the western coast of Attica, closed round to the north of the town and harbor of Salamis, so as to shut up the northern issue from the strait on the side of Eleusis: while another portion blocked up the other issue between Peiræus and the southeastern corner of the island, landing a detachment of troops on the desert island of Psyttaleia, near to that corner.[254] These measures were all taken during the night, to prevent the anticipated flight of the Greeks, and then to attack them in the narrow strait close on their own harbor the next morning.
Meanwhile, that angry controversy among the Grecian chiefs, in the midst of which Themistoklês had sent over his secret envoy, continued without abatement and without decision. It was the interest of the Athenian general to prolong the debate, and to prevent any concluding vote until the effect of his stratagem should have rendered retreat impossible: nor was prolongation difficult in a case so critical, where the majority of chiefs was on one side and that of naval force on the other,—especially as Eurybiadês himself was favorable to the view of Themistoklês. Accordingly, the debate was still unfinished at nightfall, and either continued all night, or was adjourned to an hour before daybreak on the following morning, when an incident, interesting as well as important, gave to it a new turn. The ostracized Aristeidês arrived at Salamis from Ægina. Since the revocation of his sentence, proposed by Themistoklês himself, he had had no opportunity of revisiting Athens, and he now for the first time rejoined his countrymen in their exile at Salamis; not uninformed of the dissensions raging, and of the impatience of the Peloponnesians to retire to the Isthmus. He was the first to bring the news that such retirement had become impracticable from the position of the Persian fleet, which his own vessel, in coming from Ægina, had only eluded under favor of night. He caused Themistoklês to be invited out from the assembled synod of chiefs, and after a generous exordium, wherein he expressed his hope that their rivalry would for the future be only a competition in doing good to their common country, apprized him that the new movement of the Persians excluded all hope of now reaching the Isthmus and rendered farther debate useless. Themistoklês expressed his joy at the intelligence, and communicated his own secret message whereby he had himself brought the movement about, in order that the Peloponnesian chiefs might be forced to fight at Salamis, even against their own consent. He moreover desired Aristeidês to go himself into the synod, and communicate the news: for if it came from the lips of Themistoklês, the Peloponnesians would treat it as a fabrication. So obstinate indeed was their incredulity, that they refused to accept it as truth even on the assertion of Aristeidês: nor was it until the arrival of a Tenian vessel, deserting from the Persian fleet, that they at last brought themselves to credit the actual posture of affairs and the entire impossibility of retreat. Once satisfied of this fact, they prepared themselves at dawn for the impending battle.[255]
Having caused his land-force to be drawn up along the shore opposite to Salamis, Xerxes had erected for himself a lofty seat, or throne, upon one of the projecting declivities of mount Ægaleos, near the Herakleion and immediately overhanging the sea,[256]—from whence he could plainly review all the phases of the combat and the conduct of his subject troops. He was persuaded himself that they had not done their best at Artemisium, in consequence of his absence, and that his presence would inspire them with fresh valor: moreover, his royal scribes stood ready by his side to take the names both of the brave and of the backward combatants. On the right wing of his fleet, which approached Salamis on the side of Eleusis, and was opposed to the Athenians on the Grecian left,—were placed the Phenicians and Egyptians; on his left wing the Ionians,[257]—approaching from the side of Peiræus, and opposed to the Lacedæmonians, Æginetans, and Megarians. The seamen of the Persian fleet, however, had been on shipboard all night, in making that movement which had brought them into their actual position: while the Greek seamen now began without previous fatigue, fresh from the animated harangues of Themistoklês and the other leaders: moreover, just as they were getting on board, they were joined by the triremes which had been sent to Ægina to bring to their aid Æakus, with the other Æakid heroes. Honored with this precious heroic aid, which tended so much to raise the spirits of the Greeks, the Æginetan trireme now arrived just in time to take her post in the line, having eluded pursuit from the intervening enemy.[258]
The Greeks rowed forward from the shore to attack with the usual pæan, or war-shout, which was confidently returned by the Persians; and the latter were the most forward of the two to begin the fight: for the Greek seamen, on gradually nearing the enemy, became at first disposed to hesitate,—and even backed water for a space, so that some of them touched ground on their own shore: until the retrograde movement was arrested by a supernatural feminine figure hovering over them, who exclaimed with a voice that rang through the whole fleet,—“Ye worthies, how much farther are ye going to back water?” The very circulation of this fable attests the dubious courage of the Greeks at the commencement of the battle.[259] The brave Athenian captains Ameinias and Lykomêdês (the former, brother of the poet Æschylus) were the first to obey either the feminine voice or the inspirations of their own ardor: though according to the version current at Ægina, it was the Æginetan ship, the carrier of the Æakid heroes, which first set this honorable example.[260] The Naxian Demokritus was celebrated by Simonides as the third ship in action. Ameinias, darting forth from the line, charged with the beak of his ship full against a Phenician, and the two became entangled so that he could not again get clear: other ships came in aid on both sides, and the action thus became general. Herodotus, with his usual candor, tells us that he could procure few details about the action, except as to what concerned Artemisia, the queen of his own city: so that we know hardly anything beyond the general facts. But it appears that, with the exception of the Ionic Greeks, many of whom—apparently a greater number than Herodotus likes to acknowledge—were lukewarm, and some even averse;[261] the subjects of Xerxes conducted themselves generally with great bravery: Phenicians, Cyprians, Kilikians, Egyptians, vied with the Persians and Medes serving as soldiers on shipboard, in trying to satisfy the exigent monarch who sat on shore watching their behavior. Their signal defeat was not owing to any want of courage,—but, first, to the narrow space which rendered their superior number a hindrance rather than a benefit: next, to their want of orderly line and discipline as compared with the Greeks: thirdly, to the fact that, when once fortune seemed to turn against them, they had no fidelity or reciprocal attachment, and each ally was willing to sacrifice or even to run down others, in order to effect his own escape. Their numbers and absence of concert threw them into confusion, and caused them to run foul of each other: those in the front could not recede, nor could those in the rear advance:[262] the oar-blades were broken by collision,—the steersmen lost control of their ships, and could no longer adjust the ship’s course so as to strike that direct blow with the beak which was essential in ancient warfare. After some time of combat, the whole Persian fleet was driven back and became thoroughly unmanageable, so that the issue was no longer doubtful, and nothing remained except the efforts of individual bravery to protract the struggle. While the Athenian squadron on the left, which had the greatest resistance to surmount, broke up and drove before them the Persian right, the Æginetans on the right intercepted the flight of the fugitives to Phalêrum:[263] Demokritus, the Naxian captain, was said to have captured five ships of the Persians with his own single trireme. The chief admiral, Ariabignês, brother of Xerxes, attacked at once by two Athenian triremes, fell, gallantly trying to board one of them, and the number of distinguished Persians and Medes who shared his fate was great:[264] the more so, as few of them knew how to swim, while among the Greek seamen who were cast into the sea, the greater number were swimmers, and had the friendly shore of Salamis near at hand. It appears that the Phenician seamen of the fleet threw the blame of defeat upon the Ionic Greeks; and some of them, driven ashore during the heat of the battle under the immediate throne of Xerxes, excused themselves by denouncing the others as traitors. The heads of the Ionic leaders might have been endangered if the monarch had not seen with his own eyes an act of surprising gallantry by one of their number. An Ionic trireme from Samothrace charged and disabled an Attic trireme, but was herself almost immediately run down by an Æginetan. The Samothracian crew, as their vessel lay disabled on the water, made such excellent use of their missile weapons, that they cleared the decks of the Æginetan, sprung on board, and became masters of her. This exploit, passing under the eyes of Xerxes himself, induced him to treat the Phenicians as dastardly calumniators, and to direct their heads to be cut off: his wrath and vexation, Herodotus tells us, were boundless, and he scarcely knew on whom to vent it.[265]
In this disastrous battle itself, as in the debate before the battle, the conduct of Artemisia of Halikarnassus was such as to give him full satisfaction. It appears that this queen maintained her full part in the battle until the disorder had become irretrievable; she then sought to escape, pursued by the Athenian trierarch, Ameinias, but found her progress obstructed by the number of fugitive or embarrassed comrades before her. In this dilemma, she preserved herself from pursuit by attacking one of her own comrades; she charged the trireme of the Karian prince, Damasithymus, of Kalyndus, ran it down and sunk it, so that the prince with all his crew perished. Had Ameinias been aware that the vessel which he was following was that of Artemisia, nothing would have induced him to relax in the pursuit,—for the Athenian captains were all indignant at the idea of a female invader assailing their city;[266] but knowing her ship only as one among the enemy, and seeing her thus charge and destroy another enemy’s ship, he concluded her to be a deserter, turned his pursuit elsewhere, and suffered her to escape. At the same time, it so happened that the destruction of the ship of Damasithymus happened under the eyes of Xerxes and of the persons around him on shore, who recognized the ship of Artemisia, but supposed the ship destroyed to be a Greek. Accordingly they remarked to him, “Master, seest thou not how well Artemisia fights, and how she has just sunk an enemy’s ship?” Assured that it was really her deed, Xerxes is said to have replied, “My men have become women; my women, men.” Thus was Artemisia not only preserved, but exalted to a higher place in the esteem of Xerxes by the destruction of one of his own ships,—among the crew of which not a man survived to tell the true story.[267]
Of the total loss of either fleet, Herodotus gives us no estimate; but Diodorus states the number of ships destroyed on the Grecian side as forty, on the Persian side as two hundred; independent of those which were made prisoners with all their crews. To the Persian loss is to be added, the destruction of all those troops whom they had landed before the battle in the island of Psyttaleia: as soon as the Persian fleet was put to flight, Aristeidês carried over some Grecian hoplites to that island, overpowered the enemy, and put them to death to a man. This loss appears to have been much deplored, as they were choice troops; in great proportion, the native Persian guards.[268]