These spies presently returned, having been detected, and condemned to death by the Persian generals, but released by express order of Xerxes, who directed that the full strength of his assembled armament should be shown to them, in order that the terror of the Greeks might be thus magnified. The step was well calculated for such a purpose: but the discouragement throughout Greece was already extreme, at this critical period when the storm was about to burst upon them. Even to intelligent and well-meaning Greeks, much more to the careless, the timid, or the treacherous—Xerxes with his countless host appeared irresistible, and indeed something more than human. Of course such an impression would be encouraged by the large number of Greeks already his tributaries: and we may even trace the manifestation of a wish to get rid of the Athenians altogether, as the chief objects of Persian vengeance and chief hindrance to tranquil submission. This despair of the very continuance of Hellenic life and autonomy breaks forth even from the sanctuary of Hellenic religion, the Delphian temple; when the Athenians, in their distress and uncertainty, sent to consult the oracle. Hardly had their two envoys performed the customary sacrifices, and sat down in the inner chamber near the priestess Aristonice, when she at once exclaimed: “Wretched men, why sit ye there? Quit your land and city, and flee afar! Head, body, feet, and hands are alike rotten: fire and sword, in the train of the Syrian chariot, shall overwhelm you: nor only your city, but other cities also, as well as many even of the temples of the gods—which are now sweating and trembling with fear, and foreshadow, by drops of blood on their roofs, the hard calamities impending. Get ye away from the sanctuary, with your souls steeped in sorrow.”
So terrific a reply had rarely escaped from the lips of the priestess. The envoys were struck to the earth by it, and durst not carry it back to Athens. In their sorrow they were encouraged yet to hope by an influential Delphian citizen named Timon (we trace here as elsewhere the underhand working of these leading Delphians on the priestess), who advised them to provide themselves with the characteristic marks of supplication, and to approach the oracle a second time in that imploring guise: “O lord, we pray thee (they said), have compassion on these boughs of supplication, and deliver to us something more comfortable concerning our country; else we quit not thy sanctuary, but remain here until death.” Upon which the priestess replied: “Athene with all her prayers and all her sagacity cannot propitiate Olympian Zeus. But this assurance I will give you, firm as adamant. When everything else in the land of Cecrops shall be taken, Zeus grants to Athene that the wooden wall alone shall remain unconquered, to defend you and your children. Stand not to await the assailing horse and foot from the continent, but turn your backs and retire: you shall yet live to fight another day. O divine Salamis, thou too shalt destroy the children of women, either at the seed-time or at the harvest.”
This second answer was a sensible mitigation of the first. It left open some hope of escape, though faint, dark, and unintelligible: and the envoys wrote it down to carry back to Athens, not concealing probably the terrific sentence which had preceded it. When read to the people, the obscurity of the meaning provoked many different interpretations. What was meant by “the wooden wall”? Some supposed that the Acropolis itself, which had originally been surrounded with a wooden palisade, was the refuge pointed out; but the greater number, and among them most of those who were by profession expositors of prophecy, maintained that the wooden wall indicated the fleet. But these professional expositors, while declaring that the god bade them go on shipboard, deprecated all idea of a naval battle, and insisted on the necessity of abandoning Attica forever: the last lines of the oracle, wherein it was said that Salamis would destroy the children of women, appeared to them to portend nothing but disaster in the event of a naval combat. Such was the opinion of those who passed for the best expositors of the divine will. It harmonised completely with the despairing temper then prevalent, heightened by the terrible sentence pronounced in the first oracle; and emigration to some foreign land presented itself as the only hope of safety even for their persons. The fate of Athens—and of Greece generally, which would have been helpless without Athens—now hung upon a thread, when Themistocles, the great originator of the fleet, interposed with equal steadfastness of heart and ingenuity, to insure the proper use of it. He contended that if the god had intended to designate Salamis as the scene of a naval disaster to the Greeks, that island would have been called in the oracle by some such epithet as “wretched Salamis:” but the fact that it was termed “divine Salamis,” indicated that the parties, destined to perish there, were the enemies of Greece, not the Greeks themselves. He encouraged his countrymen therefore to abandon their city and country, and to trust themselves to the fleet as the wooden wall recommended by the god, but with full determination to fight and conquer on board. Great indeed were the consequences which turned upon this bold stretch of exegetical conjecture. Unless the Athenians had been persuaded, by some plausible show of interpretation, that the sense of the oracle encouraged instead of forbidding a naval combat, they would in their existing depression have abandoned all thought of resistance.
Even with the help of an encouraging interpretation, however, nothing less than the most unconquerable resolution and patriotism could have enabled the Athenians to bear up against such terrific denunciations from the Delphian god, and persist in resistance in place of seeking safety by emigration. Herodotus emphatically impresses this truth upon his readers: nay, he even steps out of his way to do so, proclaiming Athens as the real saviour of Greece. Writing as he did about the beginning of the Peloponnesian War—at a time when Athens, having attained the maximum of her empire, was alike feared, hated, and admired, by most of the Grecian states—he knows that the opinion which he is giving will be unpopular with his hearers generally, and he apologises for it as something wrung from him against his will by the force of the evidence. Nor was it only that the Athenians dared to stay and fight against immense odds: they, and they alone, threw into the cause that energy and forwardness whereby it was enabled to succeed, as will appear further in the sequel.
But there was also a third way, not less deserving of notice, in which they contributed to the result. As soon as the congress of deputies met at the Isthmus of Corinth, it became essential to recognise some one commanding state: and with regard to the land-force, no one dreamt of contesting the pre-eminence of Sparta. But in respect to the fleet, her pretensions were more disputable, since she furnished at most only sixteen ships, and little or no nautical skill; while Athens brought two-thirds of the entire naval force, with the best ships and seamen. Upon these grounds the idea was at first started, that Athens should command at sea and Sparta on land: but the majority of the allies manifested a decided repugnance, announcing that they would follow no one but a Spartan. To the honour of the Athenians, they at once waived their pretensions, as soon as they saw that the unity of the confederate force at this moment of peril would be compromised. To appreciate this generous abnegation of a claim in itself so reasonable, we must recollect that the love of pre-eminence was among the most prominent attributes of the Hellenic character; a prolific source of their greatness and excellence, but producing also no small amount both of their follies and their crimes. To renounce at the call of public obligation a claim to personal honour and glory, is perhaps the rarest of all virtues in a son of Hellen.
[481-480 B.C.]
We find thus the Athenians nerved up to the pitch of resistance, prepared to see their country wasted, and to live as well as to fight on shipboard, when the necessity should arrive; furnishing two-thirds of the whole fleet, and yet prosecuting the building of fresh ships until the last moment; sending forth the ablest and most forward leader in the common cause, while content themselves to serve like other states under the leadership of Sparta. During the winter preceding the march of Xerxes from Sardis, the congress at the isthmus was trying, with little success, to bring the Grecian cities into united action. Among the cities north of Attica and the Peloponnesus, the greater number were either inclined to submit, like Thebes and the greater part of Bœotia, or were at least lukewarm in the cause of independence: so rare at this trying moment (to use the language of the unfortunate Platæans fifty-three years afterwards) was the exertion of resolute Hellenic patriotism against the invader. Even in the interior of the Peloponnesus, the powerful Argos maintained an ambiguous neutrality. It was one of the first steps of the congress to send special envoys to Argos, setting forth the common danger and soliciting co-operation. The result is certain, that no co-operation was obtained—the Argives did nothing throughout the struggle; but as to their real position, or the grounds of their refusal, contradictory statements had reached the ears of Herodotus. They themselves affirmed that they were ready to have joined the Hellenic cause, in spite of dissuasion from the Delphian oracle—exacting only as conditions that the Spartans should conclude a truce with them for thirty years, and should equally divide the honours of headship with Argos.
Such was the story told by the Argives themselves, but seemingly not credited either by any other Greeks, or by Herodotus himself. The prevalent opinion was, that the Argives had a secret understanding with Xerxes, and some even affirmed that they had been the parties who invited him into Greece, as a means both of protection and of vengeance to themselves against Sparta after their defeat by Cleomenes. And Herodotus himself evidently believed that they medised, though he is half afraid to say so, and disguises his opinion in a cloud of words which betray the angry polemics going on about the matter, even fifty years afterwards. It is certain that in act the Argives were neutral.
The Cretans declined to take any part, on the ground of prohibitory injunctions from the oracle; the Corcyræans promised without performing, and even without any intention to perform. Their neutrality was a serious loss to the Greeks, since they could fit out a naval force of sixty triremes, second only to that of Athens. With this important contingent they engaged to join the Grecian fleet, and actually set sail from Corcyra; but they took care not to sail round Cape Malea, or to reach the scene of action.
The envoys who visited Corcyra proceeded onward on their mission to Gelo the despot of Syracuse. Of that potentate, regarded by Herodotus as more powerful than any state in Greece, we shall speak more fully in a subsequent chapter: it is sufficient to mention now, that he rendered no aid against Xerxes. Nor was it in his power to do so, whatever might have been his inclinations; for the same year which brought the Persian monarch against Greece, was also selected by the Carthaginians for a formidable invasion of Sicily, which kept the Sicilian Greeks to the defence of their own island. It seems even probable that this simultaneous invasion had been concerted between the Persians and Carthaginians.