It is remarkable that the speaker, in tracing the later course of Athenian policy, lays no claim to those high motives of patriotism which had inspired his people with sublime self-devotion two generations back. He boldly asserts the principle that it is lawful for the stronger to rule the weaker, and claims merit for Athens in abstaining from excessive abuse of her power. The Athenians, we may believe, had been tainted by the baseness of their confederates. In the early days of the Delian league they had not attempted to educate the Greeks whom they led up to the standard of their own splendid zeal,—or, if the attempt had been made, it was unsuccessful. They had taken upon themselves the whole burden of a great public duty, and standing alone, without moral support from their countrymen, they had gradually fallen away from the pure and lofty virtues of their ancestors. This decay of public morality proceeds with rapid strides in the years which follow, and we shall presently hear the doctrine that might is right proclaimed with cynical frankness by the lips of an Athenian.
Having heard the complaints of their allies against Athens, and the reply of the Athenian orator, the Spartans ordered all but those of their own race to withdraw, and continued the debate with closed doors. A great majority of the speakers were in favour of declaring immediate war on Athens. But there was one important exception: the aged Archidamus, who for the last fourteen years had been reigning as sole king at Sparta, spoke strongly against the imprudence of assuming the aggressive, before they had made adequate preparations to cope with the offending city. It was an opinion generally held by the war-party that the Athenians would be ready to make any concessions, in order to save the land of Attica from ravage. This, said Archidamus, was a great error; and the event proved that he was right. The Athenians, with their great colonial empire, and complete command of the sea, were quite independent of the products of their own estates in Attica. And many years must elapse before the states of Peloponnesus could train a fleet, and attack them on the sea, where alone they were assailable. It was folly to suppose that such a contest could be decided by a single summer campaign, as was commonly believed by the enemies of Athens. "I fear rather," said the king, with prophetic foresight, "that we shall leave this war as an inheritance to our children; such is the power, and such the pride, of the state with which we have to contend." On the other hand, the Spartans, as champions of the liberties of Greece, must not allow the common oppressors of their countrymen to continue their career of tyranny unchecked. Let them first, however, try what could be effected by negotiation, and in the meantime prepare for war, by building ships, and above all by collecting money, without which all their valour would be useless. Then, if Athens still refused to listen to reason, they might declare war with better hope of success.
The speech of Archidamus shows a true insight into the nature of the crisis which the Spartans were called upon to face, and his views were amply justified by subsequent events. His wise words were no doubt applauded by the older and more sober-minded among his hearers. But there was another and a much more numerous party at that time in Sparta, filled with bitter envy and hatred against Athens. Their passions had been inflamed by the invectives of the Corinthian orator, and without counting the cost they were resolved to try the issues of immediate battle. Their blind rancour found expression in the curt and pithy harangue of Sthenelaidas, one of the five Ephors, a college of magistrates which in recent years had greatly encroached on the authority of the kings. Sthenelaidas spoke with true laconic brevity. "I don't understand," he said, "all the fine talk of these Athenians. They have told us a great deal about their own merits, but have not said a word in answer to the charges brought against them. Even if we accept their own account of themselves, their good conduct in the past only lends a darker colour to their present crimes. We have one plain duty to perform, and that is to save our faithful allies from ill-treatment. The time for words is past—leave them to the transgressor. Our part is to act, at once, and with all our might, and put down the overwhelming insolence of Athens."
Then, in his capacity as Ephor, Sthenelaidas, without staying for further argument, forthwith put the question to the Spartan assembly. According to their ordinary procedure, the Spartans gave their votes by cries of "Ay" and "No." But on this occasion Sthenelaidas pretended to be unable to distinguish whether the "Ays" or "Nos" had it, and wishing to encourage the war-party by showing how much they were in the majority, he ordered the house to divide on the question whether the treaty was broken, and whether the Athenians were in the wrong or not. The division was made, and a great majority were in favour of the motion, recording their votes against Athens. The allies were then called in, and informed to the result of the private debate, and a day was named for a general synod of the whole Peloponnesian league, to reconsider the situation and decide whether war was to be declared.
In the interval, before the final assembly of the allies, the Spartans sent to ask the oracle at Delphi whether it was expedient for them to make war; and the answer, according to common report, was that if they fought with all their might they would conquer, and that the god [Footnote: Apollo.] would be on their side. The Corinthians were at the same time carrying on an active canvass against Athens, sending their agents from city to city to blow up the flames of war.
In the autumn of the same year the allies met in full synod at Sparta, and once more the Corinthian speaker led the cry against Athens, and called for a unanimous war-vote, flattering his hearers with hopes of a speedy victory. The Spartans, he said, had at last set a good example to their allies, and shown themselves convinced that imperial cities had imperial obligations, by pronouncing in favour of war. Every member of the league must join heartily in the struggle, whether he belonged to an inland or to a maritime city; for if the seaports were closed by the Athenian fleets, the inland towns would be prevented from exporting their products, and importing what they wanted from abroad. War, then, was in the interest of the whole body of allies. And on the moral side their position was equally sound, for they were only acting on desperate provocation, and the common god of Greece had promised success to their arms. But to deserve that success, all must co-operate heartily, contributing freely from their private purses to raise a fleet which would make them a match for Athens on her own element. And they must watch the course of events with a vigilant eye, and be ready to seize any opportunity which might arise to aim a decisive blow at their common enemy. Let them be warned by the experience of the Ionians, and put out all their strength to save themselves from being swallowed up by the devouring ambition of Athens. Justice, heaven's favour, the good-will of all Greece, were on their side.
Others spoke to the same effect, and then the representatives of each city were called up in turn to give their vote; and by far the greater number voted for war. But many months elapsed before any overt act of hostility occurred, and the time was occupied in preparations for an invasion of Attica, and in a series of demands sent by Sparta to try the temper of the Athenians, and put them in the wrong, if they refused to comply. The first of these messages was conveyed in mysterious terms, bidding the Athenians "to drive out the curse of the goddess." The meaning of this was as follows: nearly two hundred years before a certain Cylon tried to make himself tyrant of Athens: the attempt was frustrated, and some of his adherents, who had taken refuge in the sacred precinct of Athene, were put to death by the magistrates, after they had surrendered under a solemn promise that their lives should be spared. The illustrious family of the Alcmaeonidae was especially concerned in this act of murder and sacrilege, and the Spartans, in reviving the memory of an ancient crime, were aiming a blow at Pericles, who was descended on his mother's side from the Alcmaeonidae. For the Athenians were highly sensitive in all matters of religion, and it was possible that they might even banish Pericles, if their consciences were suddenly alarmed. And though this was not likely, the Spartans hoped at any rate to lessen his influence, which was adverse to themselves, and fasten on him the odium of being, in some sense, the cause of the war. But their manoeuvre was unsuccessful, and the Athenians retorted by bidding the Spartans drive out the curse of Taenarus, in allusion to the murder of certain Helots who had taken sanctuary in the temple of Poseidon at Taenarus. And they further charged the Spartans to rid themselves of the curse of Athene of the Brazen House. This was a holy place in Sparta, where Pausanias, when convicted of treasonable correspondence with Persia, had sought refuge from the vengeance of the Spartans. He was kept a close prisoner in the temple by the Ephors, who set a watch on him, to prevent him from being supplied with food, and when he was reduced to the last extremity, brought him out to die. But though his death occurred outside the temple, this did not save them from the sin of sacrilege, and a public reprimand by the Delphic God.
The game of diplomatic fencing went on for some time, and envoys were continually passing to and fro between Athens and Sparta. The Athenians were required to raise the siege of Potidaea—to allow the Aeginetans to govern themselves—to rescind the decree against Megara; and when all these demands were met by a firm refusal, the Spartans sent two ambassadors, bearing their ultimatum, which was worded as follows: "The Lacedaemonians wish that there should be peace, and war may be averted if ye will let the Greeks go free." Knowing that the decisive moment had now arrived, the Athenians met together in full assembly, to decide on their final answer. There were many speakers on either side, some arguing for peace, others for war: and then was heard that majestic voice, which, for more than thirty years, had guided the counsels of Athens—the voice of the Olympian Pericles. He had chosen his line of policy a year before, in the fatal affair of Corcyra, and it was now too late to draw back: peace with honour was no longer possible for Athens. The furious zeal of Corinth had united her enemies against her, and they were bent on her ruin. The demands put forward by Sparta were a mere pretext, and if the Athenians had yielded the smallest point, new concessions would have been required of them, until they were stripped of all that had been won by the strenuous toil and devotion of two generations. "We must listen," said Pericles, in the course of a long speech, "to no proposal from Sparta which is not made as from an equal to an equal. Dictation is not arbitration. If we are to fight at all, the occasion matters little, be it small or great. What right has Sparta to require of us that we should rescind the decree against Megara, when her own laws jealously exclude all strangers from entering her streets? Or why should we relax our hold upon our allies, or break off the relations with them which were sanctioned by the Thirty Years' Truce? No, all this is a mere pretence, and if we are deceived by it, we shall be led on step by step to deeper and still deeper humiliation. It may seem a hard thing to give up the fair land of Attica to pillage and devastation. But think how far greater was the sacrifice made by our grandsires, who refused the fairest offers from Persia, and gave up all they had, rather than betray the common cause. Athens and Attica were then all the country they had, and these lost they had nothing left but their ships, their strong arms, and their stout hearts. In our case, on the other hand, all the essential elements of our power—our city, our fleet, our colonial empire—remain untouched. Shall we, then, sell our honour to save a few vineyards and olive-grounds from temporary damage? That would be a short-sighted policy indeed, and in the end would involve not only dishonour, but the loss of our whole empire. Let us act, then, in the spirit of our fathers, and send away the Spartan ambassadors with the only answer which is consistent with our dignity and our interest."
The reply to the Spartan ultimatum was framed as Pericles had directed, and from this moment all negotiations ceased. And here we close our account of the events which led to the Peloponnesian War.