Chapter VIII: Part 8

As for the exiles at Athens, they sought in vain to obtain Athenian aid to recover their city from the foe. Athens was by no means in love with Sparta, but peace had been declared, and all they could agree to do was to give the fugitives a place of refuge. Evidently the city, which had been won by treason, was not to be recovered by open war. If set free at all it must be by secret measures. And with this intent a conspiracy was formed between the leaders of the exiles and certain citizens of Thebes for the overthrow of Leontiades and his colleagues and the expulsion of the Spartan garrison from the citadel. And this it was that brought the seven men to Thebes,--seven exiles, armed with hidden daggers, with which they were to win a city and start a revolution which in the end would destroy the power of Sparta the imperial.

Of the seven exiles who thus returned, under cover of night and disguise, to their native city, the chief was Pelopidas, a rich and patriotic Theban, who was yet to prove himself one of the great men of Greece. Entering the gates, they proceeded quietly through the streets, and soon found an abiding-place in the house of Charon, an earnest patriot. This was their appointed rendezvous.

And now we have a curious incident to tell, showing on what small accidents great events may hinge. Among the Thebans who had been let into the secret of the conspiracy was a faint-hearted man named Hipposthenidas. As the time for action drew near this timid fellow grew more and more frightened, and at length took upon himself, unknown to the rest, to stop the coming of the exiled patriots. He ordered Chlidon, a faithful slave of one of the seven, to ride in haste from Thebes, meet his master on the road, and bid him and his companions to go back to Athens, as circumstances had arisen which made their coming dangerous and their project impracticable.

Chlidon, ready to obey orders, went home for his bridle, but failed to find it in its usual place. He asked his wife where it was. She pretended at first to help him look for it, but at last, in a tone of contrition, acknowledged that she had lent it, without asking him, to a neighbor. Chlidon, in a burst of anger at the delay to his journey, entered into a loud altercation with the woman, who grew angry on her part and wished him ill luck on his journey. Word led to word, both sides grew more angry and abusive, and at length he began to beat his wife, and continued his ill treatment until her cries brought neighbors in to separate them. But all this caused a loss of time, the bridle was not in this way to be had, and in the end Chlidon's journey was stopped, and the message he had been asked to bear never reached the conspirators on their way. Accidents of this kind often frustrate the best-laid plans. In this case the accident was providential to the conspiracy.

And now, what were these seven men to do? Four men--Leontiades, Archias, Philippus, and Hypates--had the city under their control. But they were supported in their tyranny by a garrison of fifteen hundred Spartans and allies in the Cadmeia, and Lacedaemonian posts in the other cities around. These four men were to be dealt with, and for that purpose the seven had come. On the evening of the next day Archias and Philippus designed to have a banquet. Phyllidas, their secretary, but secretly one of the patriots, had been ordered to prepare the banquet for them, and had promised to introduce into their society on that occasion some women of remarkable beauty and of the best families in Thebes. He did not hint to them that these women would wear beards and carry daggers under their robes.

We have told, in a previous tale, the story of the "Seven against Thebes." The one with which we are now concerned might be properly entitled the "Seven for Thebes." That night and the following day the devoted seven lay concealed. Evening came on. The hour when they were to play their parts had nearly arrived. They were in that state of strained expectation that brings the nerves to the surface, and started in sudden dread when a loud knock came upon the door. They were still more startled on hearing its purpose. A messenger had come to bid Charon instantly to come to the presence of the two feasting polemarchs.

What did it mean? Had the plot been divulged? Had the timid Hipposthenidas betrayed them? At any rate, there was but one thing to do; Charon must go at once. But he, faithful soul, was most in dread that his friends should suspect him of treachery. He therefore brought his son, a highly promising youth of fifteen, and put him in the hands of Pelopidas as a hostage for his fidelity.

"This is folly!" cried they all. "No one doubts you. Take the boy away. It is enough for us to face the danger; do not seek to bring the boy into the same peril."

Charon would not listen to their remonstrances, but insisted on leaving the youth in their hands, and hastened away to the house of the polemarchs. He found them at the feast, already half intoxicated. Word had been sent them from Athens that some plot, they knew not what, was afloat. He was known to be a friend of the exiles. He must tell them what he knew about it.

Fortunately, the pair were too nearly drunk to be acute. Their suspicions were very vague. Charon, aided by Phyllidas, had little trouble in satisfying them that the report was false. Eager to get back to their wine they dismissed him, very glad indeed to get away. Hardly had he gone before a fresh message, and a far more dangerous one, was brought to Archias, sent by a namesake of his at Athens. This gave a full account of the scheme and the names of those who were to carry it out. "It relates to a very serious matter," said the messenger who bore it.

"Serious matters for to-morrow," cried Archias, with a drunken laugh, as he put the unopened despatch under the pillow of his couch and took up the wine-cup again.

"Those whom the gods mean to destroy they first make mad," says an apposite Grecian proverb. These men were foredoomed.

"A truce to all this disturbance," cried the two polemarchs to Phyllidas. "Where are the women whom you promised us? Let us see these famous high-born beauties."

Phyllidas at once retired, and quickly returned with the seven conspirators, clothed in female attire. Leaving them in an adjoining chamber, he entered the banquet-room, and told the feasters that the women refused to come in unless all the domestics were first dismissed.

"Let it be so," said Archias, and at the command of Phyllidas the domestics sought the house of one of their number, where the astute secretary had well supplied them with wine.

The two polemarchs, with one or two friends, alone remained, all half intoxicated, and the only armed one being Cabeirichus, the archon, who was obliged by law to keep always with him the consecrated spear of office.

And now the supposed and eagerly expected women were brought in,--three of them attired as ladies of distinction, the four others dressed as attendants. Their long veils and ample robes completely disguised them, and they sat down beside the polemarchs without a suspicion being entertained. Not till their drunken companions lifted their veils did the truth appear. But the lifting of the veils was the signal for quick and deep dagger thrusts, and Archias and Philippus, with scarcely a movement of resistance, fell dead from their seats. No harm was meant to the others, but the drunken archon rushed on the conspirators with his spear, and in consequence perished with his friends.

There were two more of the tyrants to deal with. Phyllidas led three of the conspirators to the house of Leontiades, into which he was admitted as the bearer of an order from the polemarchs. Leontiades was reclining after supper, with his wife spinning wool by his side, when his foes entered his chamber, dagger in hand. A bold and strong man, he instantly sprang up, seized his sword, and with a thrust mortally wounded the first of the three. Then a desperate struggle took place in the doorway between him and Pelopidas, the place being too narrow for the third to approach. In the end Pelopidas dealt him a mortal blow. Then, threatening the wife with death if she gave the alarm, and closing the door with stern commands that it should not be opened again, the two patriots left the house and sought that of Hypates. He took the alarm and fled, and was pursued to the roof, where he was killed as he was trying to escape over the house-tops.

This work done, and no alarm yet given, the conspirators proceeded to the prison, whose doors they ordered to be opened. The jailer hesitated, and was slain by a spear-thrust, the patriots rushing over his body into the prison, from whose cells the tenants were soon released. These, one hundred and fifty in number, sufferers for their patriotic sentiments, were quickly armed from battle-spoils kept near by, and drawn up in battle array. And now, for the first time, did the daring conspirators feel assurance of success.

The tidings of what had been done by this time got abroad, and ran like wildfire through the city. Citizens poured excitedly into the streets. Epaminondas, who was afterwards to become the great leader of the Thebans, joined with some friends the small array of patriots. Proclamation was made throughout the city by heralds that the despots were slain and Thebes was free, and all Thebans who valued liberty were bidden to muster in arms in the market-place. All the trumpeters in the city were bidden to blow with might and main, from street to street, and thus excite the people to take arms to secure their liberty.

While night lasted surprise and doubt continued, many of the citizens not knowing what to do. But with day-dawn came a wild outburst of joy and enthusiasm. Horsemen and footmen hastened in arms to the agora. Here a formal assembly of the Theban people was convened, before whom Pelopidas and his fellows appeared to tell what they had done. The priests crowned them with wreaths, while the people hailed them with joyful acclamations. With a single voice they nominated Pelopidas, Mellon, and Charon as Boeotarchs,--a Theban title of authority which had for a number of years been dropped.

Such was the hatred which the long oppression had aroused, that the very women trod underfoot the slain jailer, and spat upon his corpse. In that city, where women rarely showed themselves in public, this outburst strongly indicated the general public rage against the overthrown despots. Messengers hastened to Attica to carry to the exiles the glad tidings, and soon they, with a body of Athenian volunteers, were in joyful march for the city.

Meanwhile, the Spartans in the citadel were in a state of distraction and alarm. All night long the flashing of lights, the blare of trumpets, the shouts of excited patriots, the sound of hurrying feet in the city, had disturbed their troubled souls, and when affrighted partisans of the defeated party came hurrying for safety into the Cadmeia, with tidings of the tragic event, they were filled with confusion and dismay. Accustomed to look to the polemarchs for orders, the garrison did not know whom to trust or consult. They hastily sent out messengers to Thespiae and Plataea for aid, but the forces which came to their help from these cities were charged upon by the Thebans and driven back with loss.

What to do the Spartan commander knew not. The citizens were swarming in the streets, and gathering in force around the citadel. That they intended to storm it before aid could come from Sparta was evident. In fact, they were already rushing to the assault,--large rewards being offered those who should first force their way in,--when a flag of truce from the garrison stopped them in mid-career. The commander proposed to capitulate.

All he asked was liberty to march out of Thebes with the honors of war. This was granted him, under oath. At once the foreign garrison filed out from the citadel and marched to one of the gates, accompanied by the Theban refugees who had sought shelter with them. These latter had not been granted the honors of war. Among them were some of the prominent oppressors of the people. In a burst of ungovernable rage these were torn from the Spartan ranks by the people and put to death; even the children of some of them being slain. Few of the refugees would have escaped but for the Athenians present, who generously helped to get them safely through the gates and out of sight and reach of their infuriated townsmen.

And thus, almost without a blow, in a night's and a morning's work, the city of Thebes, which for several years had lain helpless in the hands of its foes, regained its liberty. As for the Spartan harmosts, or leaders, who had capitulated without an attempt at defence, two of them were put to death on reaching home, the third was heavily fined and banished. Sparta had no mercy and no room for beaten men.

Thebes was free! The news spread like an electric shock through the Grecian world. A few men, taking a desperate risk, had in an hour overthrown a government that seemed beyond assault. The empire of Sparta, the day before undisputed and nearly universal over Greece, had received a serious blow. Throughout all Greece men breathed easier, while the spirit of patriotism suddenly flamed again. The first blow in a coming revolution had been struck.

_THE HUMILIATION OF SPARTA._

Thebes was free! But would she stay free? Sparta was against her,--Sparta, the lord of Greece. Could a single city, however liberty-loving and devoted its people, maintain itself against that engine of war which had humbled mighty Athens and now lorded it over the world of Greece? This is the question we have to answer; how in a brief space the dominion of Sparta was lost, and Thebes, so long insignificant and almost despised, rose to take the foremost place in Greece.

Two men did this work. As seven men had restored Thebes to freedom, two men lifted her almost into empire. One of these was Pelopidas, the leading spirit of the seven. The other was Epaminondas, whose name was simply mentioned in the tale of the patriotic seven, yet who in the coming years was to prove himself one of the greatest men Greece ever produced.

Pelopidas belonged to one of the richest and highest families of Thebes. He was one of the youngest of the exiles, yet a man of earnest patriotism and unbounded daring. It was his ardent spirit that gave life to the conspiracy, and his boldness and enterprise that led it forward to success. And it was the death of Leontiades by his hand that freed Thebes.

Epaminondas was a man of different character and position. Though of ancient and honorable family, he was poor, while Pelopidas was very rich; middle-aged, while Pelopidas was young; quiet, patient, and thoughtful, while Pelopidas was bold, active, and energetic. In the wars that followed he was the brain, while Pelopidas was the right hand, of Thebes. Epaminondas had been an earnest student of philosophy and music, and was an adept in gymnastic training. He was a listener, not a talker, yet no Theban equalled him in eloquence in time when speech was needful. He loved knowledge, yet he cared little for power, and nothing for money, and he remained contentedly poor till the end of his days, not leaving enough wealth to pay his funeral expenses. He did not love bloodshed, even to gain liberty. He had objected to the conspiracy, since freedom was to be gained through murder. Yet this was the man who was to save Thebes and degrade her great enemy, Sparta.

Like Socrates and Alcibiades, these two men were the warmest friends. Their friendship, like that of the two great Athenians, had been cemented in battle. Standing side by side as hoplites (or heavy armed soldiers), on an embattled field, Pelopidas had fallen wounded, and Epaminondas had saved his life at the greatest danger to himself, receiving several wounds while bearing his helpless friend to a place of safety. To the end of their lives they continued intimate friends, each recognizing the peculiar powers of the other, and the two working like one man for Theban independence.

Epaminondas proved himself a thinker of the highest military genius, Pelopidas a leader of the greatest military vigor. The work of the latter was largely performed with the Sacred Band, a warlike association of three hundred youthful Thebans, sworn to defend the citadel until death, bound by bonds of warm friendship, and trained into the highest military efficiency. Pelopidas was the captain of this noble band, which was never overcome until the fatal battle of Chaeronea, and then only by death, the Three Hundred lying dead in their ranks as they had stood.

For the events with which we have now to deal we must leap over seven years from the freeing of Thebes. It will suffice to say that for two years of that time Sparta fought fiercely against that city, but could not bring it under subjection again. Then wars arose elsewhere and drew her armies away. Thebes now took the opportunity to extend her power over the other cities of Boeotia, and of one of these cities there is something of interest to tell.

We have told in an earlier tale how Sparta and Thebes captured Plataea and swept it from the face of the earth. Recently Sparta had rebuilt the city, recalled its exiled citizens, and placed it as a Spartan outpost against Thebes. But now, when the armies of Sparta had withdrawn, the Thebans deemed it a good opportunity to conquer it again. One day, when the Plataean men were at work in their fields, and unbroken peace prevailed, a Theban force suddenly took the city by surprise, and forced the Plataeans to surrender at discretion. Poor Plataea was again levelled with the ground, her people were once more sent into exile, and her soil was added to that of Thebes. It may be well to say here that most of the Grecian cities consisted of the walled town and sufficient surrounding land to raise food for the inhabitants within, and that the farmers went out each morning to cultivate their fields, and returned each night within the shelter of their walls. It was this habit that gave Thebes its treacherous opportunity.

During the seven years mentioned we hear nothing of Epaminondas, yet we know that he made himself felt within the walls of Thebes; for when, in 371 B.C., the cities of Greece, satisfied that it was high time to stop cutting each other's throats, held a congress at Sparta to conclude peace, we find him there as the representative of Thebes.

The terms of peace demanded by Athens, and agreed to by most of the delegates, were that each city, small or large, should possess autonomy, or self-government. Sparta and Athens were to become mutual guarantees, dividing the headship of Greece between them. As for Thebes and her claim to the headship of Boeotia, her demand was set aside.

This conclusion reached, the cities one after another took oath to keep the terms of peace, each city swearing for itself except Sparta, which took the oath for itself and its allies. When it came to the turn of Thebes there was a break in this love-feast. Sparta had sworn for all the cities of Laconia; Epaminondas, as the representative of Thebes, insisted on swearing not for Thebes alone, but for Thebes as president of all Boeotia. He made a vigorous speech, asking why Sparta was granted rights from which other leading cities were debarred.

This was a new question. No Greek had ever asked it openly before. To Sparta it seemed the extreme of insolence and insult. What daring stranger was this who presumed to question her right to absolute control of Laconia? No speech was made in her defence. Spartans never made speeches. They prided themselves on their few words and quick deeds,--_laconic_ utterances, as they have since been called. The Spartan king sprang indignantly from his seat.

"Speak plainly," he scornfully demanded. "Will you, or will you not, leave to each of the Boeotian cities its separate autonomy?"

"Will _you_ leave each of the Laconian towns its separate autonomy?" demanded Epaminondas.

Not another word was said. Agesilaus, the Spartan king, who was also president of the congress, caused the name of Thebes to be stricken from the roll, and proclaimed that city to be excluded from the treaty of peace.

It was a bold move on the part of Epaminondas, for it meant war with all the power of Sparta, relieved of all other enemies by the peace. Sparta had conquered and humbled Athens. It had conquered many other cities, forcing some of them to throw down their walls and go back again to their old state of villages. What upstart was this that dared defy its wrath and power? Thebes could hope for no allies, and seemed feeble against Spartan strength. How dared, then, this insolent delegate to fling defiance in the teeth of the lord of Greece?

Fortunately Thebes needed no allies. It had two men of warlike genius, Epaminondas and Pelopidas. These were to prove in themselves worth a host of allies. The citizens were with them. Great as was the danger, the Thebans sustained Epaminondas in his bold action, and made him general of their army. He at once marched to occupy a pass by which it was expected the Spartans would come. Sparta at that moment had a strong army under Cleombrotus, one of its two kings, in Phocis, on the frontier of Boeotia. This was at once ordered to march against defiant Thebes.

Cleombrotus lost no time, and with a military skill which Spartans rarely showed he evaded the pass which Epaminondas held, followed a narrow mountain-track, captured Creusis, the port of Thebes, with twelve war-ships in the harbor, and then marched to a place called Leuctra, within an easy march of Thebes, yet which left open communication with Sparta by sea, by means of the captured port.

The Thebans had been outgeneralled, and were dismayed by the result. The Spartans and their king were full of confidence and joy. All the eloquence of Epaminondas and the boldness of Pelopidas were needed to keep the courage of their countrymen alive and induce them to march against their foes. And it was with much more of despair than of hope that they took up at length a position on the hilly ground opposite the Spartan camp.

The two armies were not long in coming to blows. The Spartans and their allies much exceeded the Thebans in numbers. But Epaminondas prepared to make the most of his small force by drawing it up in a new array, never before seen in Greece.

Instead of forming the narrow line of battle always before the rule in Greek armies, he placed in front of his left wing Pelopidas and the Sacred Band, and behind them arranged a mass of men fifty shields deep, a prodigious depth for a Grecian host. The centre and right were drawn up in the usual thin lines, but were kept back on the defensive, so that the deep column might join battle first.

Thus arrayed, the army of Thebes marched to meet its foe, in the valley between the two declivities on which the hostile camps were placed. The cavalry met first, and the Theban horsemen soon put the Spartan troop to flight. Then the footmen came together with a terrible shock. Pelopidas and his Sacred Band, and behind them the weight of the fifty shields, proved more than the Spartans, with all their courage and discipline, could endure. Both sides fought bravely, hand to hand; but soon Cleombrotus fell, mortally hurt, and was with difficulty carried off alive. Around him fell others of the Spartan leaders. The resistance was obstinate, the slaughter terrible; but at last the Spartan right wing, overborne by the heavy Theban mass and utterly beaten, was driven back to its camp on the hill-side above. Meanwhile the left wing, made up of allies, did little fighting, and quickly followed the Spartans back to the camp.

It was a crushing defeat. Of seven hundred Spartans who had marched in confidence from the camp, only three hundred returned thither in dismay. A thousand and more Lacedaemonians besides were left dead upon the field. Not since the day of Thermopylae had Sparta lost a king in battle. The loss of the Theban army was not more than three hundred men. Only twenty days had elapsed since Epaminondas left Sparta, spurned by the scorn of one of her kings; and now he stood victor over Sparta at Leuctra, with her second king dead in his camp of refuge. It is not surprising that to Greece, which had felt sure of the speedy overthrow of Thebes, these tidings came like a thunderbolt. Sparta on land had been thought irresistible. But here on equal ground, and with nearly double force, she had been beaten by insignificant Thebes.

We must hasten to the end of this campaign. Sparta, wrought to desperation by her defeat, sent all the men she could spare in reinforcement. Thebes, too, sought allies, and found a powerful one in Jason of Pherae, a city of Thessaly. The Theban leaders, flushed with victory, were eager to attack the enemy in his camp, but Jason gave them wiser advice.

"Be content," he said, "with the great victory you have gained. Do not risk its loss by attacking the Lacedaemonians driven to despair in their camp. You yourselves were in despair a few days ago. Remember that the gods take pleasure in bringing about sudden changes of fortune."

This advice taken, Jason offered the enemy the opportunity to retreat in safety from their dangerous position. This they gladly accepted, and marched in haste away. On their journey home they met a second army coming to their relief. This was no longer needed, and the whole baffled force returned home.

The military prestige held by Sparta met with a serious blow from this signal defeat. The prestige of Thebes suddenly rose into supremacy, and her control of Boeotia became complete. But the humiliation of Sparta was not yet near its end. Epaminondas was not the man to do things by halves. In November of 370 B.C. he marched an army into Arcadia (a country adjoining Laconia on the north), probably the largest hostile force that had ever been seen in the Peloponnesus. With its Arcadian and other allies it amounted to forty thousand, or, as some say, to seventy thousand, men, and among these the Thebans formed a body of splendidly drilled and disciplined troops, not surpassed by those of Sparta herself. The enthusiasm arising from victory, the ardor of Pelopidas, and the military genius of Epaminondas had made a wonderful change in the hoplites of Thebes in a year's time.

And now a new event in the history of the Spartan commonwealth was seen. For centuries the Spartans had done their fighting abroad, marching at will through all parts of Greece. They were now obliged to fight on their own soil, in defence of their own hearths and homes. Dividing his army into four portions, Epaminondas marched into rock-bounded Laconia by four passes.

The Arcadians had often felt the hard hand of their warlike neighbors. Only a snort time before one of their principal cities, Mantinea, had been robbed of its walls and converted into open villages. Since the battle of Leuctra the villagers had rebuilt their walls and defied a Spartan army. Now the Arcadians proved even more daring than the Thebans. They met a Spartan force and annihilated it.

Into the country of Laconia pushed the invaders. The city of Sellasia was taken and burned. The river Eurotas was forded. Sparta lay before Epaminondas and his men.

It lay before them without a wall or tower. Through its whole history no foreign army had come so near it. It trusted for defence not to walls, but to Spartan hearts and hands. Yet now consternation reigned. Sparta the inviolate, Sparta the unassailable, was in imminent peril of suffering the same fate it had often meted out freely to its foes.

But the Spartans had not been idle. Allies had sent aid in all haste to the city. Even six thousand of the Helots were armed as hoplites, though to see such a body of their slaves in heavy armor alarmed the Spartans almost as much as to behold their foes so near at hand. In fact, many of the Helots and country people joined the Theban army, while others refused to come to the aid of the imperilled city.

Epaminondas marched on until he was in sight of the city. He did not attempt to storm it. Though without walls, Sparta had strong natural defences, and heaps of earth and stones had been hastily thrown up on the most open roads. A strong army had been gathered. The Spartans would fight to death for their homes. To attack them in their stronghold might be to lose all that had been gained. Repulse here would be ruin. Content with having faced the lion in his den, Epaminondas turned and marched down the Eurotas, his army wasting, plundering, and burning as it went, while the Spartans, though in an agony of shame and wounded honor, were held back by their king from the peril of meeting their enemy in the field.

In the end, his supplies growing scarce, his soldiers loaded with plunder, Epaminondas led his army back to Arcadia, having accomplished far more than any foe of Sparta had ever done before, and destroyed the warlike reputation of Sparta throughout Greece.

But the great Theban did not end here. He had two other important objects in view. One was to consolidate the Arcadians by building them a great central city, to be called Megalopolis (Great City), and inhabited by people from all parts of the state. This was done, thick and lofty walls, more than five miles and a half in circumference, being built round the new stronghold.

His other purpose was to restore the country of Messenia. We have already told how this country had been conquered by the Spartans centuries before, and its people exiled or enslaved. Their descendants were now to regain their liberty and their homes. A new city, to be named Messenia, was ordered by Epaminondas to be built, and this, at the request of the Messenians, was erected on Mount Ithome, where the gallant hero Aristomenes had made his last stand against his country's invaders.

The city was built, the walls rising to the music of Argeian and Boeotian flutes. The best architects and masons of Greece were invited to lay out the plans of streets and houses and of the sacred edifices. The walls were made so strong and solid that they became the admiration of after-ages. The surrounding people, who had been slaves of Sparta, were made freemen and citizens of the reorganized state. A wide area of land was taken from Laconia and given to the new communities which Epaminondas had formed. Then, in triumph, he marched back to Thebes, having utterly destroyed the power and prestige of Sparta in Greece.

Reaching home, he was put on trial by certain enemies. He had broken the law by keeping command of the army four months beyond the allotted time. He appealed to the people, with what result we can readily understand. He was acquitted by acclamation, and he and Pelopidas were immediately re-elected Boeotarchs (or generals) for the coming year.

_TIMOLEON, THE FAVORITE OF FORTUNE._

In the city of Corinth dwelt two brothers; one of whom, named Timoleon, was distinguished alike for his courage, gentleness, patriotism, lack of ambition, and hatred of despots and traitors; the other, named Timophanes, was noted for bravery and enterprise, but also for unprincipled ambition and lack of patriotism. Timophanes, being a valiant soldier, had gained high rank in the army of Corinth. Timoleon loved his unworthy brother and sought to screen his faults. He did more: he saved his life at frightful peril to himself. During a battle between the army of Corinth and that of some neighboring state, Timophanes, who commanded the cavalry, was thrown from his wounded horse very near to the enemy. The cavalry fled, leaving him to what seemed certain death. But Timoleon, who was serving with the infantry, rushed from the ranks and covered his brother with his shield just as the enemy were about to pierce him. They turned in numbers on the defender, with spears and darts, but he warded off their blows, and protected his fallen brother at the cost of several wounds to himself, until others rushed to the rescue and drove back the foe.

The whole city was full of admiration of Timoleon for this act of devotion. Timophanes also was raised in public estimation through his brother's deed, and was placed in an important post. Corinth was governed by an aristocracy, who, just then, brought in a garrison of four hundred foreign soldiers and placed them in the citadel. Timophanes was given command of this garrison and control of the stronghold.

The governors of the city did not know their man. Here was an opportunity for the unlimited ambition of the new commander. Gaining some armed partisans among the poorer citizens, and availing himself of the control of fort and garrison, Timophanes soon made himself master of the city, and seized and put to death all who opposed him among the chief citizens. Unwittingly the Corinthian aristocrats had put over themselves a cruel despot.

But they found also a defender. The crimes of his brother at first filled Timoleon with shame and sorrow. He went to the citadel and begged Timophanes, by all he held sacred, to renounce his ambitious projects. The new despot repelled his appeal with contempt. Timoleon went again, this time with three friends, but with no better effect. Timophanes laughed them to scorn, and as they continued their pleading he grew angry and refused to hear more. Then the three friends drew their swords and killed the tyrant on the spot, while Timoleon stood aside, with his face hidden and his eyes bathed in tears.

He who had saved his brother's life at the risk of his own had now consented to his death to save his country. But personally, although all Corinth warmly applauded his patriotic act, he was thrown into the most violent grief and remorse. This was the greater from the fact that his mother viewed his deed with horror and execration, invoked curses on his head, and refused even to see him despite his earnest supplications.

The gratitude of the city was overcome in his mind by grief for his brother, and he was attacked by the bitterest pangs of remorse. The killing of the tyrant he had felt to be a righteous and necessary act. The murder of his brother afflicted him with despair. For a time he refused food, resolving to end his odious life by starvation. Only the prayers of his friends made him change this resolution. Then, like one pursued by the furies, he fled from the city, hid himself in solitude, and kept aloof from the eyes and voices of men. For several years he thus dwelt in self-afflicting solitude, and when at length time reduced his grief and he returned to the city, he shunned all prominent positions, and lived in humility and retirement. Thus time went on until twenty years had passed, Timoleon still, in spite of the affection and sympathy of his fellow-citizens, refusing any office or place of authority.

But now an event occurred which was to make this grieving patriot famous through all time, as the favored of the gods and one of the noblest of men,--the Washington of the far past. To tell how this came about we must go back some distance in time. Corinth, though it played no leading part in the wars of Greece, like Athens, Sparta, and Thebes, was still a city of much importance, its situation on the isthmus between the Peloponnesus and northern Greece being excellent for commerce and maritime enterprise. Many years before it had sent out a colony which founded the city of Syracuse, in Sicily. It was in aid of this city of Syracuse that Timoleon was called upon to act.

We have already told how Athens sought to capture this city and ruined herself in the enterprise. After that time of triumph Syracuse passed through several decades of terror and woe. Tyrants set their feet on her fair neck, and almost crushed her into the earth. One of these, Dionysius by name, had made his power felt by far-off Greece and nearer Carthage, and for years ruled over Sicily with a rod of iron. His successor, Dion, a friend and pupil of the philosopher Plato, became an oppressor when he came into power. Then another Dionysius gained the throne, a cowardly and drunken wretch, who repeated the acts of his tyrannical father.

Such was the state of affairs in Sicily when Timoleon was dwelling quietly at home in Corinth, a man of fifty, with no ambitious thought and no ruling desire except to reach the end of his sorrow-laden life. So odious now had the tyranny of Dionysius become that the despairing Syracusans sent a pathetic appeal to Corinth, their mother city, praying for aid against this brutal despot and the Carthaginians, who had invaded the island of Sicily in force.

Corinth just then, fortunately, had no war on hand,--a somewhat uncommon condition for a Greek city at that day. The citizens voted at once to send the aid asked for. But who should be the leader? There were danger and difficulty in the enterprise, with little hope for profit, and none of the Corinthian generals or politicians seemed eager to lead this forlorn hope. The archons called out their names one by one, but each in succession declined. The archons had come nearly to their wits' end whom to choose, when from an unknown voice in the assembly came the name "Timoleon." The archons seized eagerly on the suggestion, hastily chose Timoleon for the post which all the leading men declined, and the assembly adjourned.

Timoleon, who sadly needed some active exertion to relieve him from the weight of eating thought, accepted the thankless enterprise, heedless probably of the result. He at once began to gather ships and soldiers. But he found the Corinthians more ready to select a commander than to provide him with means and men. Little money was forthcoming; few men seemed ready to enlist; Timoleon had no great means of his own. In the end he only got together seven triremes and one thousand men,--the most of them mere mercenaries. Three more ships and two hundred men were afterwards added.

And thus, with this small force, Timoleon set out to conquer a city and kingdom on whose conquest Athens, years before, had lavished hundreds of ships and tens of thousands of men in vain. The effort seemed utterly puerile. Was the handful of Corinthians to succeed where all the imperial power of Athens had failed? Yet the gods fought with Timoleon.

In truth, from the day he left Corinth, those presages of fortune, on which the Greeks so greatly depended, gathered about his path across the seas. The signs and tokens were all favorable. While he was at Delphi, seeking the favor of Apollo, a fillet with wreaths and symbols of victory fell from a statue upon his head, and the goddess Persephone told her priestess in a dream that she was about to sail with Timoleon to Sicily, her favorite island. He took, therefore, a special trireme, sacred to the goddesses Demeter and Persephone, both of whom were to accompany him. While at sea this sacred trireme was illumined by a light from heaven, while a burning torch on high seemed to guide the fleet to a safe harbor. All these portents filled the adventurers with hope and joy.

But Timoleon had himself to depend on as well as the gods. At the Italian port of Rhegium he found Hicetas, the despot of a Sicilian city, who had invited him to Sicily, but was now allied with the Carthaginians. He had there twenty of the war-ships of Carthage, double the force of Timoleon. Yet the shrewd Corinthian played with and tricked him, set him to talking and the people of Rhegium to talking with him, and slipped slyly out of the harbor with his ships while the interminable talk went on.

This successful stratagem redoubled the spirit of his followers. Landing at a small town on the Sicilian coast, a new enterprise presented itself. Forty miles inland lay the town of Adranum, sacred to the god Adranus, a deity worshipped throughout Sicily. There were two parties in Adranum, one of which invited Timoleon, the other Hicetas. The latter at once started thither, with a force of five thousand men, an army with which that of Timoleon seemed too small to cope. But heedless of this discrepancy Timoleon hastened thither, and on arriving near the town perceived that the opposing army had outstripped him in speed. Hicetas, not aware of the approach of a foe, had encamped, and his men were disarmed and at their suppers.

The small army of Timoleon, worn out with their long and rapid march, and in sight of an enemy four times their number, were loath to move farther; but their leader, who knew that his only chance for victory lay in a surprise, urged them forward, seized his shield and placed himself at their head, and led them so suddenly on the foe that the latter, completely surprised, fled in utter panic. Three hundred were killed, six hundred taken, and the rest, abandoning their camp, hastened at all speed back to Syracuse.

Again the gods spoke in favor of Timoleon. Just as the battle began the gates of the temple of Adranus burst open, and the god himself appeared with brandished spear and perspiring face. So said the awe-struck Adranians, and there was no one to contradict their testimony.

Superstition came here to the adventurer's aid. The report of the god's doings did as much as the victory to add to the fame of Timoleon. Reinforcements flocked to his ranks, and several towns sought alliance with him. He now, with a large and confident army, marched to Syracuse, and defied his foe to meet him in the field.

Hicetas was master of all Syracuse except the stronghold of Ortygia, which was held by Dionysius, and which Hicetas had blockaded by sea and land. Timoleon had no means of capturing it, and as the enemy would not come out from behind its walls, he would soon have had to retire had not fortune again helped her favorite son, and this time in an extraordinary manner.

As it happened, Dionysius was growing short of provisions, was beginning to despair of holding Ortygia, and was withal a man of indolent and drunken habits, without a tithe of his father's spirit and energy. He was like a fox driven to bay, and having heard of the victory of Timoleon, it occurred to him that he would be better off in yielding the city to these Corinthians than losing it to his Sicilian foe. All he wished was the promise of a safe asylum and comfortable maintenance in the future. He therefore agreed with Timoleon to surrender the city, with the sole proviso that he should be taken safely with his property to Corinth and given freedom of residence in that city. This Timoleon instantly and gladly granted, the city was yielded, and Dionysius passed into Timoleon's camp with a few companions.

We can imagine the astonishment of the people of Corinth when a trireme came into their harbor with tidings of the remarkable success of their townsman, and bearing as striking evidence the person of the late tyrant of Sicily. Only fifty days had passed since he left their city with his thousand men, and already he had this extraordinary prize to show. At once they voted him a reinforcement of two thousand hoplites and five hundred cavalry, and willingly granted the dethroned king a safe residence in their city. In after years, so report says, Dionysius opened a school there for teaching boys to read, and instructed the public singers in their art. Certainly this was an innocent use to put a tyrant to.

Ortygia contained a garrison of two thousand soldiers and vast quantities of military stores. Timoleon, after taking possession, returned to Adranum, leaving his lieutenant Neon in command. Soon after--Hicetas having left Syracuse for the purpose of cutting off Neon's source of provisions--a sudden sally was made, the blockading army taken by surprise and driven back with loss, and another large section of the city was added to Timoleon's gains.

This success was quickly followed by another. The reinforcement from Corinth had landed at Thurii, on the east coast of Italy. The Carthaginian admiral, thinking that they could not easily get away from that place, sailed to Ortygia, where he displayed Grecian shields and had his seamen crowned with wreaths. He fancied that by these signs of victory he would frighten the garrison into surrender. But the garrison were not so easily scared; and meanwhile the Corinthian troops, tired of Thurii, and not able to get away by sea, had left their ships and marched rapidly overland to the narrow strait of Messina, that separated Italy from Sicily. They found this unguarded,--the Carthaginian ships being away on their mission of alarm to Ortygia. And, by good fortune, several days of stormy weather had been followed by a sudden and complete calm, so that the Corinthians were enabled to cross in fishing and other boats and reach Sicily in safety. Thus by a new favor of fortune Timoleon gained this valuable addition to his small army.

Timoleon now marched against Syracuse, where fortune once more came to his aid. For Magon, the Carthaginian admiral, had begun to doubt Hicetas. He doubted him the more when he saw the men of Timoleon and those of Hicetas engaged in fishing for eels together in the marshy grounds between the armies, and seemingly on very friendly terms. Thinking he was betrayed, he put all his troops on board ship and sailed away for Africa.

It may well be imagined that Timoleon and his men saw with surprise and joy this sudden flight of the Carthaginian ships. With shouts of encouragement they attacked the city on all sides. To their astonishment, scarcely any defence was made. In fact, the army of Hicetas, many of them Greeks, were largely in favor of Timoleon, while the talk of the eel catching soldiers in the marshes had won many more over. As a result, Timoleon took the great city of Syracuse, on which the Athenians had vainly sacrificed hundreds of ships and thousands of men, without the loss of a single man, killed or wounded.

Such a succession of astonishing favors of fortune has rarely been seen in the world's history. The news flew through Sicily, Italy, and Greece, and awakened wonder and admiration everywhere. Only a few months had passed since Timoleon left Corinth, and already, with very little loss, he was master of Syracuse and of much of Sicily, and had sent the dreaded Sicilian tyrant to dwell as a common citizen in Corinth. His ability seemed remarkable, his fortune superhuman, and men believed that the gods themselves had taken him under their especial care.

And now came the temptation of power, to which so many great men have fallen victims. Timoleon had but to say the word and he would be despot of Syracuse. Everybody looked for this as the next move. In Ortygia rose the massive citadel within which Dionysius had defied revolt or disaffection. Timoleon had but to establish himself there, and his word would be the law throughout Syracuse, if not throughout Sicily. What would he do?

What he proposed to do was quickly shown. He proclaimed that this stronghold of tyranny should be destroyed, and invited every Syracusan that loved liberty to come with crowbar and hammer and join in the work of levelling to the ground the home and citadel of Dionysius. The astounded citizens could scarcely believe their ears. What! destroy the tyrant's stronghold! Set Syracuse free! What manner of man was this? With joyous acclaim they gathered, and heaved and tugged until the massive walls were torn stone from stone, and the vast edifice levelled with the ground, while the time passed like a holiday, and songs of joy and triumph made their work light.

The Bastile of Syracuse down, Timoleon ordered that the materials should be used to build courts of justice,--for justice was henceforth to replace despotism in that tyrant-ridden city. But he had more to do. So long had oppression and suffering lasted that the city was half deserted and the very market-place turned into a horse pasture. The same was the case with other cities of Sicily. Even the fields were but half cultivated. Ruin had swept over that fertile island far and wide.

Timoleon now sent invitations everywhere, inviting exiles to return and new colonists to come and people the island. To make them sure that they would not be oppressed, a new constitution was formed, giving all the power to the people. The invitation was accepted. From all quarters colonists came, while ten thousand exiles and others sailed from Corinth. In the end no fewer than sixty thousand new citizens were added to Syracuse.

Meanwhile Timoleon put down the other despots of Sicily and set the cities free. Hicetas, his old enemy, was forced to give up his control of Leontini, to which he had retired on the loss of Syracuse. But the snake retained his venom. The Carthaginians were furious at the flight of their fleet. Hicetas stirred them up to another invasion of the liberated island.

How long they were in preparing for this expedition we do not know, but it was made on a large scale. An army of seventy thousand men landed on the western corner of the island, brought thither by a fleet of two hundred triremes and one thousand transports. In the army were ten thousand heavy-armed Carthaginians, who carried white shields and wore elaborate breastplates. Among these were many of the rich men of Carthage, who brought with them costly baggage and rich articles of gold and silver. Twenty-five hundred of them were called the Sacred Band of Carthage. That great city had rarely before made such a determined effort at conquest.

Timoleon was not idle in the face of this great invasion. But the whole army he could muster was but twelve thousand strong, a pitiable total to meet so powerful a foe. And as he marched to meet the enemy distrust and fear marched in his ranks. Such was the dread that one division of the army, one thousand strong, mutinied and deserted, and it needed all his personal influence to keep the rest together.

Yet Timoleon had in him the spirit that commands success. He pushed on with his disheartened force until near the river Crimesus, beyond which was encamped the great army of Carthage. Some mules laden with parsley met the Corinthians on the road. Parsley was used for the wreaths laid on tombstones. It seemed a fatal omen. But Timoleon, with the quickness of genius, seized some of it, wove a wreath for his head, and cried, "This is our Corinthian symbol of victory: it is the sacred herb with which we decorate the victors at the Isthmian festival. Its coming signifies success." With these encouraging words he restored the spirits of the army, and led them on to the top of the hill overlooking the Crimesus.

It was a misty May morning. Nothing could be seen; but from the valley a loud noise and clatter arose. The Carthaginians were on the march, and had begun to cross the stream. Soon the mist rose and the formidable host was seen. A multitude of war-chariots, each drawn by four horses, had already crossed. The ten thousand native Carthaginians, bearing their white shields, were partly across. The main body of the host was hastening in disorderly march to the rugged banks of the stream.