By the manner in which Dionysius exercised his power at Lokri, we may judge how he would behave at Syracuse. The Syracusans endured more evil than ever, without knowing where to look for help. Hiketas the Syracusan (once the friend of Dion, ultimately the murderer of the slain Dion’s widow and sister), had now established himself as despot at Leontini. To him they turned as an auxiliary, hoping thus to obtain force sufficient for the expulsion of Dionysius. Hiketas gladly accepted the proposition, with full purpose of reaping the reward of such expulsion, when achieved, for himself. Moreover, a formidable cloud was now gathering from the side of Carthage. What causes had rendered Carthage inactive for the last few years, while Sicily was so weak and disunited—we do not know; but she had now become once more aggressive, extending her alliances among the despots of the island, and pouring in a large force and fleet, so as to menace the independence both of Sicily and of Southern Italy.[289] The appearance of this new enemy drove the Syracusans to despair, and left them no hope of safety except in assistance from Corinth. To that city they sent a pathetic and urgent appeal, setting forth both the actual suffering and the approaching peril from without. And such indeed was the peril, that even to a calm observer, it might well seem as if the mournful prophecy of Plato was on the point of receiving fulfilment—Hellenism as well as freedom becoming extinct on the island.
To the invocation of Corinthian aid, Hiketas was a party; yet an unwilling party. He had made up his mind that for his purpose, it was better to join the Carthaginians, with whom he had already opened negotiations—and to employ their forces, first in expelling Dionysius, next in ruling Syracuse for himself. But these were schemes not to be yet divulged: accordingly, Hiketas affected to concur in the pressing entreaty sent by the Syracusans to Corinth, intending from the beginning to frustrate its success.[290] He expected indeed that the Corinthians would themselves decline compliance: for the enterprise proposed to them was full of difficulty; they had neither injury to avenge, nor profit to expect; while the force of sympathy, doubtless not inconsiderable, with a suffering colony, would probably be neutralized by the unsettled and degraded condition into which all Central Greece was now rapidly sinking, under the ambitious strides of Philip of Macedon.
The Syracusan envoys reached Corinth at a favorable moment. But it is melancholy to advert to the aggregate diminution of Grecian power, as compared with the time when (seventy years before) their forefathers had sent thither to solicit aid against the besieging armament of Athens; a time when Athens, Sparta, and Syracuse herself, were all in exuberant vigor as well as unimpaired freedom. However, the Corinthians happened at this juncture to have their hands as well as their minds tolerably free, so that the voice of genuine affliction, transmitted from the most esteemed of all their colonies, was heard with favor and sympathy. A decree was passed, heartily and unanimously, to grant the aid solicited.[291]
The next step was to choose a leader. But a leader was not easily found. The enterprise presented little temptation, with danger and difficulty abundant as well as certain. The hopeless discord of Syracuse for years past, was well known to all the leading Corinthian politicians or generals. Of all or most of these, the names were successively put up by the archons; but all with one accord declined. At length, while the archons hesitated whom to fix upon, an unknown voice in the crowd pronounced the name of Timoleon, son of Timodemus. The mover seemed prompted by divine inspiration;[292] so little obvious was the choice, and so preëminently excellent did it prove. Timoleon was named—without difficulty, and without much intention of doing him honor—to a post which all the other leading men declined.
Some points must be here noticed in the previous history of this remarkable man. He belonged to an illustrious family in Corinth, and was now of mature age—perhaps about fifty. He was distinguished no less for his courage than for the gentleness of his disposition. Little moved either by personal vanity or by ambition, he was devoted in his patriotism, and unreserved in his hatred of despots as well as of traitors.[293] The government of Corinth was, and always had been, oligarchical; but it was a regular, constitutional, oligarchy; while the Corinthian antipathy against despots was of old standing[294]—hardly less strong than that of democratical Athens. As a soldier in the ranks of Corinthian hoplites, the bravery of Timoleon, and his submission to discipline, were alike remarkable.
These points of his character stood out the more forcibly from contrast with his elder brother Timophanes; who possessed the soldierlike merits of bravery and energetic enterprise, but combined with them an unprincipled ambition, and an unscrupulous prosecution of selfish advancement at all cost to others. The military qualities of Timophanes, however, gained for him so much popularity, that he was placed high as an officer in the Corinthian service. Timoleon, animated with a full measure of brotherly attachment, not only tried to screen his defects as well as to set off his merits, but also incurred the greatest perils for the purpose of saving his life. In a battle against the Argeians and Kleonæans, Timophanes was commanding the cavalry, when his horse, being wounded, threw him on the ground, very near to the enemy. The remaining horsemen fled, leaving their commander to what seemed certain destruction; but Timoleon, who was serving among the hoplites, rushed singly forth from the ranks with his utmost speed, and covered Timophanes with his shield, when the enemy were just about to pierce him. He made head single-handed against them, warding off numerous spears and darts, and successfully protected his fallen brother until succor arrived; though at the cost of several wounds to himself.[295]
This act of generous devotion raised great admiration towards Timoleon. But it also procured sympathy for Timophanes, who less deserved it. The Corinthians had recently incurred great risk of seeing their city fall into the hands of their Athenian allies, who had laid a plan to seize it, but were disappointed through timely notice given at Corinth.[296] To arm the people being regarded as dangerous to the existing oligarchy,[297] it was judged expedient to equip a standing force of four hundred paid foreign soldiers, and establish them as a permanent garrison in the strong and lofty citadel. The command of this garrison, with the mastery of the fort, was intrusted to Timophanes. A worse choice could not have been made. The new commander—seconded not only by his regiment and his strong position, but also by some violent partisans whom he took into his pay and armed, among the poorer citizens—speedily stood forth as despot, taking the whole government into his own hands. He seized numbers of the chief citizens, probably all the members of the oligarchical councils who resisted his orders, and put them to death without even form of trial.[298] Now, when it was too late, the Corinthians repented of the mistaken vote which had raised up a new Periander among them. But to Timoleon, the crimes of his brother occasioned an agony of shame and sorrow. He first went up to the acropolis[299] to remonstrate with him; conjuring him emphatically, by the most sacred motives public as well as private, to renounce his disastrous projects. Timophanes repudiated the appeal with contempt. Timoleon had now to choose between his brother and his country. Again he went to the acropolis, accompanied by Æschylus, brother of the wife of Timophanes—by the prophet Orthagoras, his intimate friend—perhaps also by another friend named Telekleides. Admitted into the presence of Timophanes, they renewed their prayers and supplications; urging him even yet to recede from his tyrannical courses. But all their pleading was without effect. Timophanes first laughed them to scorn; presently, he became exasperated, and would hear no more. Finding words unavailing, they now drew their swords and put him to death. Timoleon lent no hand in the deed, but stood a little way off, with his face hidden, and in a flood of tears.[300]
With the life of Timophanes passed away the despotism which had already begun its crushing influence upon the Corinthians. The mercenary force was either dismissed, or placed in safe hands; the acropolis became again part of a free city; the Corinthian constitution was revived as before. In what manner this change was accomplished, or with what measure of violence it was accompanied, we are left in ignorance; for Plutarch tells us hardly anything except what personally concerns Timoleon. We learn however that the expressions of joy among the citizens, at the death of Timophanes and the restoration of the constitution, were vehement and universal. So strongly did this tide of sentiment run, as to carry along with it, in appearance, even those who really regretted the departed despotism. Afraid to say what they really felt about the deed, these men gave only the more abundant utterance to their hatred of the doer. Though it was good that Timophanes should be killed (they said), yet that he should be killed by his brother, and his brother-in-law, was a deed which tainted both the actors with inexpiable guilt and abomination. The majority of the Corinthian public, however, as well as the most distinguished citizens, took a view completely opposite. They expressed the warmest admiration as well for the doer as for the deed. They extolled the combination of warm family affection with devoted magnanimity and patriotism, each in its right place and properly balanced, which marked the conduct of Timoleon. He had displayed his fraternal affection by encountering the greatest perils in the battle, in order to preserve the life of Timophanes. But when that brother, instead of an innocent citizen, became the worst enemy of Corinth, Timoleon had then obeyed the imperative call of patriotism, to the disregard not less of his own comfort and interest than of fraternal affection.[301]
Such was the decided verdict pronounced by the majority—a majority as well in value as in number—respecting the behavior of Timoleon. In his mind, however, the general strain of encomium was not sufficient to drown, or even to compensate, the language of reproach, in itself so much more pungent, which emanated from the minority. Among that minority too was found one person whose single voice told with profound impression—his mother Demaristê, mother also of the slain Timophanes. Demaristê not only thought of her murdered son with the keenest maternal sorrow, but felt intense horror and execration for the authors of the deed. She imprecated curses on the head of Timoleon, refused even to see him again, and shut her doors against his visits, in spite of earnest supplications.
There wanted nothing more to render Timoleon thoroughly miserable, amidst the almost universal gratitude of Corinth. Of his strong fraternal affection for Timophanes, his previous conduct leaves no doubt. Such affection had to be overcome before he accompanied his tyrannicidal friends to the acropolis, and doubtless flowed back with extreme bitterness upon his soul, after the deed was done. But when to this internal source of distress, was added the sight of persons who shrank from contact with him as a fratricide, together with the sting of the maternal Erinnys—he became agonized even to distraction. Life was odious to him; he refused for some time all food, and determined to starve himself to death. Nothing but the pressing solicitude of friends prevented him from executing the resolve. But no consoling voice could impart to him spirit for the duties of public life. He fled the city and the haunts of men, buried himself in solitude amidst his fields in the country, and refrained from seeing or speaking to any one. For several years he thus hid himself like a self-condemned criminal; and even when time had somewhat mitigated the intensity of his anguish, he still shunned every prominent position, performing nothing more than his indispensable duties as a citizen. An interval of twenty years[302] had now elapsed from the death of Timophanes, to the arrival of the Syracusan application for aid. During all this time, Timoleon, in spite of the sympathy and willingness of admiring fellow-citizens, had never once chosen to undertake any important command or office. At length the vox Dei is heard, unexpectedly, amidst the crowd; dispelling the tormenting nightmare which had so long oppressed his soul, and restoring him to healthy and honorable action.