The next day they renewed the attack. The besieged had built a fresh wall during the night, in the form of a crescent, in the place of that which had been destroyed, and the Romans found it impossible to force it.
Sylla, discouraged by so obstinate a defence, resolved to make no more assaults, but to take the place by famine. The city, on the other hand, was at the last extremity. A bushel of barley had been sold for a thousand drachmas (about £25 sterling). The inhabitants did not only eat the grass and roots which they found about the citadel, but the flesh of horses, and the leather of their shoes, which they boiled soft. In the midst of the public misery, the tyrant passed his days and nights in revelling. The senators and priests went to throw themselves at his feet, imploring him to have pity on the city, and to obtain a capitulation from Sylla; he had them dispersed with a shower of arrows, and in that brutal manner drove them from his presence.
He did not demand a cessation of arms, or send a deputation to Sylla, till reduced to the last extremity. As those deputies made no proposals, and asked nothing of him to the purpose, but ran on in praise of Theseus, Eumelpus, and the exploits of the Athenians against the Medes, Sylla was annoyed by their discourse, and interrupted them by saying:—“Gentlemen orators, you may go back, and keep your rhetorical flourishes for yourselves; for my part, I was not sent to Athens to be made acquainted with your ancient prowess, but to chastise your modern revolt.”
During this audience, some spies having entered the city by chance, overheard some old men talking in the Ceramicus, and blaming the tyrant exceedingly for not guarding a part of the wall, which was the only place where the enemy might easily take the city by escalade. At their return to the camp, they related what they had heard to Sylla. The parley had been to no purpose. Sylla did not neglect the intelligence given him. The next night he went in person to take a view of the place, and finding the wall actually accessible, he ordered ladders to be raised against it, began the attack there, and having made himself master of the walls, after a weak resistance, he entered the city. He would not suffer it to be set on fire, but abandoned it to be plundered by the soldiers, who in several houses found human flesh, which had been dressed to be eaten. A dreadful slaughter ensued. The following day all the slaves were sold by auction, and liberty was granted to the citizens who had escaped the swords of the soldiers, but their numbers were but few. Sylla at once besieged the citadel, where Aristion, and those who had taken refuge there, were soon so much reduced by famine that they were forced to surrender. The tyrant, his guards, and all who had been in any office under him, were put to death. Some few days after, Sylla made himself master of the Piræus, and burnt all its fortifications, especially the arsenal, which had been built by Philo, the celebrated architect, and was a wonderful fabric. Archelaus, by means of his fleet, had retired to Munichia, another port of Attica. To do this commander justice, he deserved to have conquered, for he had failed in neither courage nor skilful exertions during the siege. With his own hand he set fire to one of the Roman galleries, and destroyed all the machines upon it. On another occasion, his soldiers being repulsed, took to flight, and he in vain endeavoured to rally them. He was soon left so completely alone, that he had to be drawn up the wall by ropes. His bravery formed a strong contrast with the cowardice and infamous debaucheries of Aristion.
Sylla restored the Athenians their liberty, but not that consideration generally the companion of power. During several ages Athens was still considered the common country of tasteful knowledge; people went thither for the purpose of instructing themselves in the arts of thinking and speaking correctly. By degrees her talents were extinguished, and her renown was eclipsed. Succumbing by turn to all the barbarians who invaded the Roman empire, she changed masters as often as she saw enemies at her gates. The Turks destroyed what were left of her splendid edifices. Twice the Venetians paid the honours of a siege to Setine, built upon its ruins. After so much destruction and so many sieges, the traveller can scarcely discover the ruins of Athens upon the soil where formerly stood that celebrated city.
SYRACUSE.
A.C. 414.
Syracuse was the most flourishing republic of Sicily. That powerful, rich, and populous city, situated on the eastern coast of the island, consisted of five quarters, inclosed within strong walls, and fortified with towers; they formed so many places, and presented nearly the figure of a triangle. Towards the sea, the island of Ortygia contained the citadel, and commanded the two ports: it communicated by a bridge with Achradina, the handsomest and the best fortified of all the quarters. Above Achradina was the quarter of Tyche, and that of Neapolis, separated one from the other by a wall, which, advancing in a point towards the west, terminated at a height named Epipolæ. A vast belt of walls inclosed all these quarters: this wall was defended by two forts,—Euryalus and Labdalon.
In the sixteenth year of the Peloponnesian war, the Segestians, oppressed by the Selenartians, came to implore the assistance of Athens. Never had that republic been so powerful. In accordance with the advice of Alcibiades, the people lent a favourable ear to the prayers of the deputies. They equipped a fleet of a hundred and fifty ships, and gave the command of it to Alcibiades, Nicias, and Lamachus. They set sail for Syracuse, entered the principal port during the night, and landed near Olympia without being perceived. The Syracusans, full of confidence and courage, had resolved to defend themselves to the last. The unexpected appearance of the enemy disconcerted them a little, but they soon threw off this first terror, and drew up in battle array beneath their walls. The signal being given, and each party equally in earnest, the conflict was long and obstinate. A storm intimidated the Syracusans; they gave way, and retired into the city, after a spirited resistance. This check seemed only to reanimate their ardour. They repaired and augmented the fortifications, and confided the whole military authority to Hermocrates, a man equally illustrious by his valour and his experience.