Great and capital as the victory was, there yet remained after it a sufficient portion of the Persian fleet to maintain even maritime war vigorously, not to mention the powerful land-force, as yet unshaken. And the Greeks themselves, immediately after they had collected in their island, as well as could be done, the fragments of shipping and the dead bodies, made themselves ready for a second engagement. But they were relieved from this necessity by the pusillanimity of the invading monarch, in whom the defeat had occasioned a sudden revulsion from contemptuous confidence, not only to rage and disappointment, but to the extreme of alarm for his own personal safety. He was possessed with a feeling of mingled wrath and mistrust against his naval force, which consisted entirely of subject nations—Phœnicians, Egyptians, Cilicians, Cyprians, Pamphylians, Ionic Greeks, etc., with a few Persians and Medes serving on board, in a capacity probably not well suited to them. None of these subjects had any interest in the success of the invasion, or any other motive for service except fear, while the sympathies of the Ionic Greeks were even decidedly against it. Xerxes now came to suspect the fidelity, or undervalue the courage, of all these naval subjects; he fancied that they could make no resistance to the Greek fleet, and dreaded lest the latter should sail forthwith to the Hellespont, so as to break down the bridge and intercept his personal retreat; for, upon the maintenance of that bridge he conceived his own safety to turn, not less than that of his father Darius, when retreating from Scythia, upon the preservation of the bridge over the Danube. Against the Phœnicians, from whom he had expected most, his rage broke out in such fierce threats, that they stole away from the fleet in the night, and departed homeward. Such a capital desertion made future naval struggle still more hopeless, and Xerxes, though at first breathing revenge, and talking about a vast mole or bridge to be thrown across the strait to Salamis, speedily ended by giving orders to the whole fleet to leave Phalerum in the night, not without disembarking, however, the best soldiers who served on board. They were to make straight for the Hellespont, and there to guard the bridge against his arrival.
This resolution was prompted by Mardonius, who saw the real terror which beset his master, and read therein sufficient evidence of danger to himself. When Xerxes despatched to Susa intelligence of his disastrous overthrow, the feeling at home was not simply that of violent grief for the calamity, and fear for the personal safety of the monarch—it was farther embittered by anger against Mardonius, as the instigator of this ruinous enterprise. That general knew full well that there was no safety for him in returning to Persia with the shame of failure on his head: it was better for him to take upon himself the chance of subduing Greece, which he had good hopes of being yet able to do, and to advise the return of Xerxes himself to a safe and easy residence in Asia. Such counsel was eminently palatable to the present alarm of the monarch, while it opened to Mardonius himself a fresh chance not only of safety, but of increased power and glory. Accordingly, he began to reassure his master, by representing that the recent blow was after all not serious—that it had only fallen upon the inferior part of his force, and upon worthless foreign slaves, like Phœnicians, Egyptians, etc., while the native Persian troops yet remained unconquered and unconquerable, fully adequate to execute the monarch’s revenge upon Hellas; that Xerxes might now very well retire with the bulk of his army if he were disposed; and that he, Mardonius, would pledge himself to complete the conquest, at the head of three hundred thousand chosen troops.
This proposition afforded at the same time consolation for the monarch’s wounded vanity, and safety for his person: his confidential Persians, and Artemisia herself, on being consulted, approved of the step. The latter had acquired his confidence by the dissuasive advice which she had given before the recent deplorable engagement, and she had every motive now to encourage a proposition indicating solicitude for his person, as well as relieving herself from the obligation of further service. “If Mardonius desires to remain (she remarked, contemptuously), by all means let him have the troops: should he succeed, thou wilt be the gainer: should he even perish, the loss of some of thy slaves is trifling, so long as thou remainest safe, and thy house in power. Thou hast already accomplished the purpose of thy expedition, in burning Athens.” Xerxes, while adopting this counsel, and directing the return of his fleet, showed his satisfaction with the Halicarnassian queen, by entrusting her with some of his children, directing her to transport them to Ephesus.
The Greeks at Salamis learned with surprise and joy the departure of the hostile fleet from the Bay of Phalerum, and immediately put themselves in pursuit; following as far as the island of Andros without success. Themistocles and the Athenians are even said to have been anxious to push on forthwith to the Hellespont, and there break down the bridge of boats, in order to prevent the escape of Xerxes, had they not been restrained by the caution of Eurybiades and the Peloponnesians, who represented that it was dangerous to detain the Persian monarch in the heart of Greece. Themistocles readily suffered himself to be persuaded, and contributed much to divert his countrymen from the idea; while he at the same time sent the faithful Sicinnus a second time to Xerxes, with the intimation that he, Themistocles, had restrained the impatience of the Greeks to proceed without delay and burn the Hellespontine bridge, and that he had thus, from personal friendship to the monarch, secured for him a safe retreat. Though this is the story related by Herodotus, we can hardly believe that, with the great Persian land-force in the heart of Attica, there could have been any serious idea of so distant an operation as that of attacking the bridge at the Hellespont. It seems more probable that Themistocles fabricated the intention, with a view of frightening Xerxes away, as well as of establishing a personal claim upon his gratitude in reserve for future contingencies.
Such crafty manœuvres and long-sighted calculations of possibility, seem extraordinary: but the facts are sufficiently attested—since Themistocles lived to claim as well as to receive fulfilment of the obligation thus conferred—and though extraordinary, they will not appear inexplicable, if we reflect, first, that the Persian game, even now, after the defeat of Salamis, was not only not desperate, but might perfectly well have succeeded, if it had been played with reasonable prudence: next, that there existed in the mind of this eminent man an almost unparalleled combination of splendid patriotism, long-sighted cunning, and selfish rapacity. Themistocles knew better than any one else that the cause of Greece had appeared utterly desperate, only a few hours before the late battle; moreover, a clever man, tainted with such constant guilt, might naturally calculate on being one day detected and punished, even if the Greeks proved successful.
He now employed the fleet among the islands of the Cyclades, for the purpose of levying fines upon them as a punishment for adherence to the Persian. He first laid siege to Andros, telling the inhabitants that he came to demand their money, bringing with him two great gods—Persuasion and Necessity. To which the Andrians replied, that “Athens was a great city, and blest with excellent gods: but that they were miserably poor, and that there were two unkind gods who always stayed with them and would never quit the island—Poverty and Helplessness. In these gods the Andrians put their trust, refusing to deliver the money required; for the power of Athens could never overcome their inability.” While the fleet was engaged in contending against the Andrians with their sad protecting deities, Themistocles sent round to various other cities, demanding from them private sums of money on condition of securing them from attack. From Carystus, Paros, and other places, he thus extorted bribes for himself apart from the other generals, but it appears that Andros was found unproductive, and after no very long absence the fleet was brought back to Salamis.
The intimation sent by Themistocles perhaps had the effect of hastening the departure of Xerxes, who remained in Attica only a few days after the battle of Salamis, and then withdrew his army through Bœotia into Thessaly, where Mardonius made choice of the troops to be retained for his future operations. He retained all the Persians, Medes, Sacæ, Bactrians, and Indians, horse as well as foot, together with select detachments of the remaining contingents: making in all, according to Herodotus, three hundred thousand men. But as it was now the beginning of September, and as sixty thousand out of his forces, under Artabazus, were destined to escort Xerxes himself to the Hellespont, Mardonius proposed to winter in Thessaly, and to postpone further military operations until the ensuing spring.
THE VICTORY OF SALAMIS (BY CORMOT)
Having left most of these troops under the orders of Mardonius in Thessaly, Xerxes marched away with the rest to the Hellespont, by the same road as he had taken in his advance a few months before. Respecting his retreat, a plentiful stock of stories were circulated, inconsistent with each other, fanciful, and even incredible: Grecian imagination, in the contemporary poet Æschylus, as well as in the Latin moralisers Seneca or Juvenal, delighted in handling this invasion with the maximum of light and shadow, magnifying the destructive misery and humiliation of the retreat so as to form an impressive contrast with the superhuman pride of the advance, and illustrating the antithesis with unbounded license of detail. The sufferings from want of provision were doubtless severe, and are described as frightful and death-dealing: the magazines stored up for the advancing march had been exhausted, so that the retiring army were now forced to seize upon the corn of the country through which they passed—an insufficient maintenance, eked out by leaves, grass, the bark of trees, and other wretched substitutes for food. Plague and dysentery aggravated their misery, and occasioned many to be left behind among the cities through whose territory the retreat was carried; strict orders being left by Xerxes that these cities should maintain and tend them. After forty-five days’ march from Attica, he at length found himself at the Hellespont, whither his fleet, retreating from Salamis, had arrived long before him. But the short-lived bridge had already been knocked to pieces by a storm, so that the army was transported on shipboard across to Asia, where it first obtained comfort and abundance, and where the change from privation to excess engendered new maladies. In the time of Herodotus, the citizens of Abdera still showed the gilt scimitar and tiara, which Xerxes had presented to them when he halted there in his retreat, in token of hospitality and satisfaction: and they even went the length of affirming that never, since his departure from Attica, had he loosened his girdle until he reached their city. So fertile was Grecian fancy in magnifying the terror of the repulsed invader—who re-entered Sardis, with a broken army and humbled spirit, only eight months after he had left it as the presumed conqueror of the western world.