The intense wrath against Athens, which had become the predominant sentiment in the mind of Darius, was yet unappeased at the time of his death, and it was fortunate for the Athenians that his crown now passed to a prince less obstinately hostile as well as in every respect inferior. Xerxes, personally the handsomest[3] and most stately man amid the immense crowd which he led against Greece, was in character timid and faint-hearted, over and above those defects of vanity, childish self-conceit, and blindness of appreciation, which he shared more or less with all the Persian kings. Yet we shall see that, even under his conduct, the invasion of Greece was very near proving successful: and it well might have succeeded altogether, had he been either endued with the courageous temperament, or inflamed with the fierce animosity, of his father.
On succeeding to the throne, Xerxes found the forces of the empire in active preparation, pursuant to the orders of Darius; except Egypt, which was in a state of revolt. His first necessity was to reconquer this country; a purpose for which the great military power now in readiness was found amply sufficient. Egypt was subdued and reduced to a state of much harder dependence than before: we may presume that the tribute was increased, as well as the numbers of the Persian occupying force maintained, by contributions levied on the natives. Achæmenes, brother of Xerxes, was installed there as satrap.
But Xerxes was not at first equally willing to prosecute the schemes of his deceased father against Greece. At least such is the statement of Herodotus; who represents Mardonius as the grand instigator of the invasion, partly through thirst for warlike enterprise, partly from a desire to obtain the intended conquest as a satrapy for himself. Nor were there wanting Grecian counsellors to enforce his recommendation, both by the promise of help and by the color of religion. The great family of the Aleuadæ, belonging to Larissa, and perhaps to other towns in Thessaly, were so eager in the cause, that their principal members came to Susa to offer an easy occupation of that frontier territory of Hellas: while the exiled Peisistratids from Athens still persevered in striving to procure their own restoration at the tail of a Persian army. On the present occasion, they brought with them to Susa a new instrument, the holy mystic Onomakritus,—a man who had acquired much reputation, not by prophesying himself, but by collecting, arranging, interpreting, and delivering out, prophetic verses passing under the name of the ancient seer or poet Musæus. Thirty years before, in the flourishing days of the Peisistratids, he had lived at Athens, enjoying the confidence of Hipparchus, and consulted by him as the expositor of these venerated documents. But having been detected by the poet Lasus of Hermione, in the very act of interpolating them with new matter of his own, Hipparchus banished him with indignation. The Peisistratids, however, now in banishment themselves, forgot or forgave this offence, and carried Onomakritus with his prophecies to Susa, announcing him as a person of oracular authority, to assist in working on the mind of Xerxes. To this purpose his interpolations, or his omissions, were now directed: for when introduced to the Persian monarch, he recited emphatically various encouraging predictions wherein the bridging of the Hellespont and the triumphant march of a barbaric host into Greece, appeared as predestined; while he carefully kept back all those of a contrary tenor, which portended calamity and disgrace. So at least Herodotus,[4] strenuous in upholding the credit of Bakis, Musæus, and other Grecian prophets whose verses were in circulation, expressly assures us. The religious encouragements of Onomakritus, and the political cooperation proffered by the Aleuadæ, enabled Mardonius effectually to overcome the reluctance of his master. Nor indeed was it difficult to show, according to the feelings then prevalent, that a new king of Persia was in honor obliged to enlarge the boundaries of the empire.[5] The conquering impulse springing from the first founder was as yet unexhausted; the insults offered by the Athenians remained still unavenged: and in addition to this double stimulus to action, Mardonius drew a captivating picture of Europe as an acquisition;—“it was the finest land in the world, produced every variety of fruit-bearing trees, and was too good a possession for any mortal man except the Persian kings.”[6] Fifteen years before, the Milesian Aristagoras,[7] when entreating the Spartans to assist the Ionic revolt, had exaggerated the wealth and productiveness of Asia in contrast with the poverty of Greece,—a contrast less widely removed from the truth, at that time, than the picture presented by Mardonius.
Having thus been persuaded to alter his original views, Xerxes convoked a meeting of the principal Persian counsellors, and announced to them his resolution to invade Greece, setting forth the mingled motives of revenge and aggrandizement which impelled him, and representing the conquest of Greece as carrying with it that of all Europe, so that the Persian empire would become coextensive with the æther of Zeus and the limits of the sun’s course. On the occasion of this invasion, now announced and about to take place, we must notice especially the historical manner and conception of our capital informant,—Herodotus. The invasion of Greece by Xerxes, and the final repulse of his forces, constitute the entire theme of his three last books, and the principal object of his whole history, towards which the previous matter is intended to conduct. Amidst those prior circumstances, there are doubtless many which have a substantive importance and interest of their own, recounted at so much length that they appear coördinate and principal, so that the thread of the history is for a time put out of sight. Yet we shall find, if we bring together the larger divisions of his history, omitting the occasional prolixities of detail, that such thread is never lost in the historian’s own mind: it may be traced by an attentive reader, from his preface and the statement immediately following it—of Crœsus, as the first barbaric conqueror of the Ionian Greeks—down to the full expansion of his theme, “Græcia Barbariæ lento collisa duello,” in the expedition of Xerxes. That expedition, as forming the consummation of his historical scheme, is not only related more copiously and continuously than any events preceding it, but is also ushered in with an unusual solemnity of religious and poetical accompaniment, so that the seventh book of Herodotus reminds us in many points of the second book of the Iliad: probably too, if the lost Grecian epics had reached us, we should trace many other cases in which the imagination of the historian has unconsciously assimilated itself to them. The dream sent by the gods to frighten Xerxes, when about to recede from his project,—as well as the ample catalogue of nations and eminent individuals embodied in the Persian host,—have both of them marked parallels in the Iliad: and Herodotus seems to delight in representing to himself the enterprise against Greece as an antithesis to that of the Atreidæ against Troy. He enters into the internal feelings of Xerxes with as much familiarity as Homer into those of Agamemnon, and introduces “the counsel of Zeus” as not less direct, special, and overruling, than it appears in the Iliad and Odyssey:[8] though the godhead in Herodotus, compared with Homer, tends to become neuter instead of masculine or feminine, and retains only the jealous instincts of a ruler, apart from the appetites, lusts, and caprices of a man: acting, moreover, chiefly as a centralized, or at least as a homogeneous, force, in place of the discordant severalty of agents conspicuous in the Homeric theology. The religious idea, so often presented elsewhere in Herodotus,—that the godhead was jealous and hostile to excessive good fortune or immoderate desires in man,—is worked into his history of Xerxes as the ever-present moral and as the main cause of its disgraceful termination: for we shall discover as we proceed, that the historian, with that honorable frankness which Plutarch calls his “malignity,” neither ascribes to his countrymen credit greater than they deserve for personal valor, nor seeks to veil the many chances of defeat which their mismanagement laid open.[9]
I have already mentioned that Xerxes is described as having originally been averse to the enterprise, and only stimulated thereto by the persuasions of Mardonius: this was probably the genuine Persian belief, for the blame of so great a disaster would naturally be transferred from the monarch to some evil counsellor.[10] As soon as Xerxes, yielding to persuasion, has announced to the Persian chief men whom he had convoked his resolution to bridge over the Hellespont and march to the conquest of Greece and Europe, Mardonius is represented as expressing his warm concurrence in the project, extolling the immense force[11] of Persia and depreciating the Ionians in Europe—so he denominated them—as so poor and disunited that success was not only certain but easy. Against the rashness of this general—the evil genius of Xerxes—we find opposed the prudence and long experience of Artabanus, brother of the deceased Darius, and therefore uncle to the monarch. The age and relationship of this Persian Nestor emboldens him to undertake the dangerous task of questioning the determination which Xerxes, though professing to invite the opinions of others, had proclaimed as already settled in his own mind. The speech which Herodotus puts into the mouth of Artabanus is that of a thoughtful and religious Greek: it opens with the Grecian conception of the necessity of hearing and comparing opposite views, prior to any final decision,—reproves Mardonius for falsely depreciating the Greeks and seducing his master into personal danger,—sets forth the probability that the Greeks, if victorious at sea, would come and destroy the bridge by which Xerxes had crossed the Hellespont,—reminds the latter of the imminent hazard which Darius and his army had undergone in Scythia, from the destruction—averted only by Histiæus and his influence—of the bridge over the Danube: such prudential suggestions being further strengthened by adverting to the jealous aversion of the godhead towards overgrown human power.[12]
The impatient monarch silences his uncle in a tone of insult and menace: nevertheless, in spite of himself, the dissuasions work upon him so powerfully, that before night they gradually alter his resolution, and decide him to renounce the scheme. In this latter disposition he falls asleep, when a dream appears: a tall, stately man stands over him, denounces his change of opinion, and peremptorily commands him to persist in the enterprise as announced. In spite of this dream, Xerxes still adheres to his altered purpose, assembles his council the next morning, and after apologizing for his angry language towards Artabanus, acquaints them to their great joy that he adopts the recommendations of the latter, and abandons his project against Greece. But in the following night, no sooner has Xerxes fallen asleep, than the same dream and the same figure again appear to him, repeating the previous command in language of terrific menace. The monarch, in a state of great alarm, springs from his bed and sends for Artabanus, whom he informs of the twice-repeated vision and divine mandate interdicting his change of resolution. “If (says he) it be the absolute will of God that this expedition against Greece should be executed, the same vision will appear to thee also, provided thou puttest on my attire, sittest in my throne, and sleepest in my bed.”[13] Not without reluctance, Artabanus obeys this order (for it was high treason in any Persian to sit upon the regal throne[14]), but he at length complies, expecting to be able to prove to Xerxes that the dream deserved no attention. “Many dreams (he says) are not of divine origin, nor anything better than mere wandering objects such as we have been thinking upon during the day: this dream, of whatever nature it may be, will not be foolish enough to mistake me for the king, even if I be in the royal attire and bed; but if it shall still continue to appear to thee, I shall myself confess it to be divine.”[15] Accordingly, Artabanus is placed in the regal throne and bed, and, as soon as he falls asleep, the very same figure shows itself to him also, saying, “Art thou he who dissuadest Xerxes, on the plea of solicitude for his safety, from marching against Greece? Xerxes has already been forewarned of that which he will suffer if he disobeys, and thou too shalt not escape, either now or in future, for seeking to avert that which must and shall be.” With these words the vision assumes a threatening attitude, as though preparing to burn out the eyes of Artabanus with hot irons, when the sleeper awakes in terror, and runs to communicate with Xerxes. “I have hitherto, O king, recommended to thee to rest contented with that vast actual empire on account of which all mankind think thee happy; but since the divine impulsion is now apparent, and since destruction from on high is prepared for the Greeks, I too alter my opinion, and advise thee to command the Persians as God directs; so that nothing may be found wanting on thy part for that which God puts into thy hands.”[16]
It is thus that Herodotus represents the great expedition of Xerxes to have originated: partly in the rashness of Mardonius, who reaps his bitter reward on the field of battle at Platæa,—but still more in the influence of “mischievous Oneiros,” who is sent by the gods—as in the second book of the Iliad—to put a cheat upon Xerxes, and even to overrule by terror both his scruples and those of Artabanus. The gods having determined—as in the instances of Astyagês, Polykratês, and others—that the Persian empire shall undergo signal humiliation and repulse at the hands of the Greeks, constrain the Persian monarch into a ruinous enterprise against his own better judgment. Such religious imagination is not to be regarded as peculiar to Herodotus, but as common to him with his contemporaries generally, Greeks as well as Persians, though peculiarly stimulated among the Greeks by the abundance of their epic or quasi-historical poetry: modified more or less in each individual narrator, it is made to supply connecting links as well as initiating causes for the great events of history. As a cause for this expedition, incomparably the greatest fact and the most fertile in consequences, throughout the political career both of Greeks and Persians, nothing less than a special interposition of the gods would have satisfied the feelings either of one nation or the other. The story of the dream has its rise, as Herodotus tells us,[17] in Persian fancy, and is in some sort a consolation for the national vanity; but it is turned and colored by the Grecian historian, who mentions also a third dream, which appeared to Xerxes after his resolution to march was finally taken, and which the mistake of the Magian interpreters falsely construed[18] into an encouragement, though it really threatened ruin. How much this religious conception of the sequence of events belongs to the age, appears by the fact, that it not only appears in Pindar and the Attic tragedians generally, but pervades especially the Persæ of Æschylus, exhibited seven years after the battle of Salamis,—in which we find the premonitory dreams as well as the jealous enmity of the gods towards vast power and overweening aspirations in man,[19] though without any of that inclination, which Herodotus seems to have derived from Persian informants, to exculpate Xerxes by representing him as disposed himself to sober counsels, but driven in a contrary direction by the irresistible fiat of the gods.[20]
While we take due notice of those religious conceptions with which both the poet and the historian surround this vast conflict of Greeks and barbarians, we need look no farther than ambition and revenge for the real motives of the invasion: considering that it had been a proclaimed project in the mind of Darius for three years previous to his death, there was no probability that his son and successor would gratuitously renounce it. Shortly after the reconquest of Egypt, he began to make his preparations, the magnitude of which attested the strength of his resolve as well as the extent of his designs. The satraps and subordinate officers, throughout the whole range of his empire, received orders to furnish the amplest quota of troops and munitions of war,—horse and foot, ships of war, horse-transports, provisions, or supplies of various kinds, according to the circumstances of the territory; while rewards were held out to those who should execute the orders most efficiently. For four entire years these preparations were carried on, and as we are told that similar preparations had been going forward during the three years preceding the death of Darius, though not brought to any ultimate result, we cannot doubt that the maximum of force, which the empire could possibly be made to furnish,[21] was now brought to execute the schemes of Xerxes. The Persian empire was at this moment more extensive than ever it will appear at any subsequent period; for it comprised maritime Thrace and Macedonia as far as the borders of Thessaly, and nearly all the islands of the Ægean north of Krete and east of Eubœa, including even the Cyclades. There existed Persian forts and garrisons at Doriskus, Eion, and other places on the coast of Thrace, while Abdêra, with the other Grecian settlements on that coast were numbered among the tributaries of Susa.[22] It is necessary to bear in mind these boundaries of the empire, at the time when Xerxes mounted the throne, as compared with its reduced limits at the later time of the Peloponnesian war,—partly that we may understand the apparent chances of success to his expedition, as they presented themselves both to the Persians and to the medizing Greeks,—partly that we may appreciate the after-circumstances connected with the formation of the Athenian maritime empire.
In the autumn of the year 481 B. C., the vast army thus raised by Xerxes arrived, from all quarters of the empire, at or near to Sardis; a large portion of it having been directed to assemble at Kritala in Kappadokia, on the eastern side of the Halys, where it was joined by Xerxes himself on the road from Susa.[23] From thence he crossed the Halys, and marched through Phrygia and Lydia, passing through the Phrygian towns of Kelænæ, Anaua, and Kolossæ, and the Lydian town of Kallatêbus, until he reached Sardis, where winter-quarters were prepared for him. But this land force, vast as it was (respecting its numbers, I shall speak farther presently), was not all that the empire had been required to furnish. Xerxes had determined to attack Greece, not by traversing the Ægean, as Datis had passed to Eretria and Marathon, but by a land force and fleet at once: the former crossing the Hellespont, and marching through Thrace, Macedonia, and Thessaly; while the latter was intended to accompany and coöperate. A fleet of one thousand two hundred and seven ships of war, besides numerous vessels of service and burden, had been assembled on the Hellespont and on the coasts of Thrace and Ionia; moreover, Xerxes, with a degree of forethought much exceeding that which his father Darius had displayed in the Scythian expedition, had directed the formation of large magazines of provisions at suitable maritime stations along the line of march, from the Hellespont to the Strymonic gulf. During the four years of military preparation, there had been time to bring together great quantities of flour and other essential articles from Asia and Egypt.[24]
If the whole contemporary world were overawed by the vast assemblage of men and muniments of war which Xerxes thus brought together, so much transcending all past, we might even say all subsequent, experience,—they were no less astounded by two enterprises which entered into his scheme,—the bridging of the Hellespont, and the cutting of a ship-canal through the isthmus of Mount Athos. For the first of the two there had indeed been a precedent, since Darius about thirty-five years before had caused a bridge to be thrown over the Thracian Bosphorus, and crossed it in his march to Scythia; but this bridge, though constructed by the Ionians and by a Samian Greek, having had reference only to distant regions, seems to have been little known or little thought of among the Greeks generally, as we may infer from the fact, that the poet Æschylus[25] speaks as if he had never heard of it, while the bridge of Xerxes was ever remembered, both by Persians and by Greeks, as a most imposing display of Asiatic omnipotence. The bridge of boats—or rather, the two separate bridges not far removed from each other—which Xerxes caused to be thrown across the Hellespont, stretched from the neighborhood of Abydos, on the Asiatic side to the coast between Sestos and Madytus on the European, where the strait is about an English mile in breadth. The execution of the work was at first intrusted, not to Greeks, but to Phenicians and Egyptians, who had received orders long beforehand to prepare cables of extraordinary strength and size expressly for the purpose; the material used by the Phenicians was flax, that employed by the Egyptians was the fibre of the papyrus. Already had the work been completed and announced to Xerxes as available for transit, when a storm arose, so violent as altogether to ruin it. The wrath of the monarch, when apprized of this catastrophe, burst all bounds; it was directed partly against the chief-engineers, whose heads he caused to be struck off,[26] but partly also against the Hellespont itself. He commanded that the strait should be scourged with three hundred lashes, and that a set of fetters should be let down into it as a farther punishment: moreover Herodotus had heard, but does not believe, that he even sent irons for the purpose of branding it. “Thou bitter water (exclaimed the scourgers while inflicting this punishment), this is the penalty which our master inflicts upon thee, because thou hast wronged him though he hath never wronged thee. King Xerxes will cross thee, whether thou wilt or not; but thou deservest not sacrifice from any man, because thou art a treacherous river of (useless) salt water.”[27]