Besides this sentence of execution, the Athenians razed the fortifications of Mitylênê, and took possession of all her ships of war. In lieu of tribute, they farther established a new permanent distribution of the land of the island; all except Methymna, which had remained faithful to them. They distributed it into three thousand lots, of which three hundred were reserved for consecration to the gods, and the remainder assigned to Athenian kleruchs, or proprietary settlers, chosen by lot among the citizens; the Lesbian proprietors still remaining on the land as cultivating tenants, and paying to the Athenian kleruch an annual rent of two minæ, near four pounds sterling, for each lot. We should have been glad to learn more about this new land-settlement than the few words of the historian suffice to explain. It would seem that two thousand seven hundred Athenian citizens, with their families must have gone to reside, for the time at least, in Lesbos, as kleruchs; that is, without abnegating their rights as Athenian citizens, and without being exonerated either from Athenian taxation, or from personal military service. But it seems certain that these men did not continue long to reside in Lesbos: and we may even suspect that the kleruchic allotment of the island must have been subsequently abrogated. There was a strip on the opposite mainland of Asia, which had hitherto belonged to Mitylênê; this was now separated from that town, and henceforward enrolled among the tributary subjects of Athens.[428]

To the misfortunes of Mitylênê belongs, as a suitable appendix, the fate of Pachês, the Athenian commander, whose perfidy at Notium has been recently recounted. It appears, that having contracted a passion for two beautiful free women at Mitylênê, Hellânis and Lamaxis, he slew their husbands, and got possession of them by force. Possibly, they may have had private friends at Athens, which must of course have been the case with many Mitylenæan families: at all events they repaired thither, bent on obtaining redress for this outrage, and brought their complaint against Pachês before the Athenian dikastery, in that trial of accountability to which every officer was liable at the close of his command. So profound was the sentiment which their case excited, in this open and numerous assembly of Athenian citizens, that the guilty commander, not waiting for sentence, slew himself with his sword in open court.[429]

The surrender of Platæa to the Lacedæmonians took place not long after that of Mitylênê to the Athenians,—somewhat later in the same summer. Though the escape of one-half of the garrison had made the provisions last longer for the rest, still they had now come to be exhausted, and the remaining defenders were enfeebled and on the point of perishing by starvation. The Lacedæmonian commander of the blockading force, knowing their defenceless condition, could easily have taken the town by storm, had he not been forbidden by express orders from Sparta. For the Spartan government, calculating that peace might one day be concluded with Athens on terms of mutual cession of places acquired by war, wished to acquire Platæa, not by force but by capitulation and voluntary surrender, which would serve as an excuse for not giving it up: though such a distinction, between capture by force and by capitulation, not admissible in modern diplomacy, was afterwards found to tell against the Lacedæmonians quite as much as in their favor.[430] Acting upon these orders, the Lacedæmonian commander sent in a herald, summoning the Platæans to surrender voluntarily, and submit themselves to the Lacedæmonians as judges,—with a stipulation “that the wrong-doers[431] should be punished, but that none should be punished unjustly.” To the besieged, in their state of hopeless starvation, all terms were nearly alike, and they accordingly surrendered the city. After a few days’ interval, during which they received nourishment from the blockading army, five persons arrived from Sparta to sit in judgment upon their fate,—one, Aristomenidas, a Herakleid of the regal family.[432]

The five Spartans having taken their seat as judges, doubtless in full presence of the blockading army, and especially with the Thebans, the great enemies of Platæa, by their side,—the prisoners taken, two hundred Platæans and twenty-five Athenians, were brought up for trial, or sentence. No accusation was preferred against them by any one: but the simple question was put to them by the judges: “Have you, during the present war, rendered any service to the Lacedæmonians or to their allies?” The Platæans were confounded at a question alike unexpected and preposterous: it admitted but of one answer,—but before returning any categorical answer at all, they entreated permission to plead their cause at length. In spite of the opposition of the Thebans,[433] their request was granted: and Astymachus and Lakon, the latter proxenus of Sparta at Platæa, were appointed to speak on behalf of the body. Possibly, both these delegates may have spoken: if so, Thucydidês has blended the two speeches into one.

A more desperate position cannot be imagined, for the interrogatory was expressly so framed as to exclude allusion to any facts preceding the Peloponnesian war,—but the speakers, though fully conscious how slight was their chance of success, disregarded the limits of the question itself, and while upholding with unshaken courage the dignity of their little city, neglected no topic which could touch the sympathies of their judges. After remonstrating against the mere mockery of trial and judgment to which they were submitted, they appealed to the Hellenic sympathies, and lofty reputation for commanding virtue, of the Lacedæmonians,—they adverted to the first alliance of Platæa with Athens, concluded at the recommendation of the Lacedæmonians themselves, who had then declined, though formally solicited, to undertake the protection of the town against Theban oppression. They next turned to the Persian war, wherein Platæan patriotism towards Greece was not less conspicuous than Theban treason,[434]—to the victory gained over the Persians on their soil, whereby it had become hallowed under the promises of Pausanias, and by solemn appeals to the local gods. From the Persian war, they passed on to the flagitious attack made by the Thebans on Platæa, in the midst of the truce,—nor did they omit to remind the judges of an obligation personal to Sparta,—the aid which they had rendered, along with the Athenians, to Sparta, when pressed by the revolt of the Helots at Ithôme. This speech is as touching as any which we find in Thucydidês, and the skill of it consists in the frequency with which the hearers are brought back, time after time, and by well-managed transitions, to these same topics.[435] And such was the impression which it seemed to make on the five Lacedæmonian judges, that the Thebans near at hand found themselves under the necessity of making a reply to it: although we see plainly that the whole scheme of proceeding—the formal and insulting question, as well as the sentence destined to follow upon answer given—had been settled beforehand between them and the Lacedæmonians.

The Theban speakers contended that the Platæans had deserved, and brought upon themselves by their own fault, the enmity of Thebes,—that they had stood forward earnestly against the Persians, only because Athens had done so too, and that all the merit, whatever it might be, which they had thereby acquired, was counterbalanced and cancelled by their having allied themselves with Athens afterwards for the oppression and enslavement of the Æginetans, and of other Greeks equally conspicuous for zeal against Xerxes, and equally entitled to protection under the promises of Pausanias. The Thebans went on to vindicate their nocturnal surprise of Platæa, by maintaining that they had been invited by the most respectable citizens of the town,[436] who were anxious only to bring back Platæa from its alliance with a stranger to its natural Bœotian home,—and that they had abstained from anything like injurious treatment of the inhabitants, until constrained to use force in their own defence. They then reproached the Platæans, in their turn, with that breach of faith whereby ultimately the Theban prisoners in the town had been put to death. And while they excused their alliance with Xerxes, at the time of the Persian invasion, by affirming that Thebes was then under a dishonest party-oligarchy, who took this side for their own factious purposes, and carried the people with them by force,—they at the same time charged the Platæans with permanent treason against the Bœotian customs and brotherhood.[437] All this was farther enforced by setting forth the claims of Thebes to the gratitude of Lacedæmon, both for having brought Bœotia into the Lacedæmonian alliance, at the time of the battle of Korôneia, and for having furnished so large a portion of the common force in the war then going on.[438]

The discourse of the Thebans, inspired by bitter, and as yet unsatisfied hatred against Platæa, proved effectual: or rather it was superfluous,—the minds of the Lacedæmonians having before been made up. After the proposition twice made by Archidamus to the Platæans, inviting them to remain neutral, and even offering to guarantee their neutrality,—after the solemn apologetic protest tendered by him upon their refusal, to the gods, before he began the siege,—the Lacedæmonians conceived themselves exonerated from all obligation to respect the sanctity of the place;[439] looking upon the inhabitants as having voluntarily renounced their inviolability and sealed their own ruin. Hence the importance attached to that protest, and the emphatic detail with which it is set forth in Thucydidês. The five judges, as their only reply to the two harangues, again called the Platæans before them, and repeated to every one of them individually, the same question which had before been put: each one of them, as he successively replied in the negative,[440] was taken away and killed, together with the twenty-five Athenian prisoners. The women captured were sold as slaves: and the town and territory of Platæa were handed over to the Thebans, who at first established in them a few oligarchical Platæan exiles, together with some Megarian exiles,—but after a few months recalled this step, and blotted out Platæa,[441] as a separate town and territory, from the muster-roll of Hellas. They pulled down all the private buildings and employed the materials to build a vast barrack all round the Heræum, or temple of Hêrê, two hundred feet in every direction, with apartments of two stories above and below; partly as accommodation for visitors to the temple, partly as an abode for the tenant-farmers or graziers who were to occupy the land. A new temple of one hundred feet in length, was also built in honor of Hêrê, and ornamented with couches, prepared from the brass and iron furniture found in the private houses of the Platæans.[442] The Platæan territory was let out for ten years, as public property belonging to Thebes, and was hired by private Theban cultivators.

Such was the melancholy fate of Platæa, after sustaining a blockade of about two years.[443] Its identity and local traditions seemed thus extinguished, and the sacrifices, in honor of the deceased victors who had fought under Pausanias, suspended,—which the Platæan speakers had urged upon the Lacedæmonians as an impiety not to be tolerated,[444] and which perhaps the latter would hardly have consented to under any other circumstances except from an anxious desire of conciliating the Thebans in their prominent antipathy. It is in this way that Thucydidês explains the conduct of Sparta, which he pronounces to have been rigorous in the extreme.[445] And in truth it was more rigorous, considering only the principle of the case, and apart from the number of victims, than even the first unexecuted sentence of Athens against the Mitylenæans: for neither Sparta, nor even Thebes, had any fair pretence for considering Platæa as a revolted town, whereas Mitylênê was a city which had revolted under circumstances peculiarly offensive to Athens. Moreover, Sparta promised trial and justice to the Platæans on their surrender: Pachês promised nothing to the Mitylenæans, except that their fate should be reserved for the decision of the Athenian people. This little city—interesting from its Hellenic patriotism, its grateful and tenacious attachments, and its unmerited suffering—now existed only in the persons of its citizens harbored at Athens: we shall find it hereafter restored, destroyed again, and finally again restored: so checkered was the fate of a little Grecian state swept away by the contending politics of the greater neighbors. The slaughter of the twenty-five Athenian prisoners, like that of Salæthus by the Athenians, was not beyond the rigor admitted and tolerated, though not always practised, on both sides, towards prisoners of war.

We have now gone through the circumstances, painfully illustrating the manners of the age, which followed on the surrender of Mitylênê and Platæa. We next pass to the west of Greece,—the island of Korkyra,—where we shall find scenes not less bloody, and even more revolting.

It has been already mentioned,[446] that in the naval combats between the Corinthians and Korkyræans during the year before the Peloponnesian war, the former had captured two hundred and fifty Korkyræan prisoners, men of the first rank and consequence in the island. Instead of following the impulse of blind hatred in slaughtering their prisoners, the Corinthians displayed, if not greater humanity, at least a more long-sighted calculation: they had treated the prisoners well, and made every effort to gain them over, with a view of employing them on the first opportunity to effect a revolution in the island,—to bring it into alliance with Corinth,[447] and disconnect it from Athens. Such an opportunity appears first to have occurred during the winter or spring of the present year, while both Mitylênê and Platæa were under blockade; probably about the time when Alkidas departed for Ionia, and when it was hoped that not only Mitylênê would be relieved, but the neighboring dependencies of Athens excited to revolt, and her whole attention thus occupied in that quarter. Accordingly, the Korkyræan prisoners were then sent home from Corinth, nominally under a heavy ransom of eight hundred talents, for which those Korkyræan citizens who acted as proxeni to Corinth made themselves responsible:[448] the proxeni, lending themselves thus to the deception, were doubtless participant in the entire design.

But it was soon seen in what form the ransom was really to be paid. The new-comers, probably at first heartily welcomed, after so long a detention, employed all their influence, combined with the most active personal canvass, to bring about a complete rupture of all alliance with Athens. Intimation being sent to Athens of what was going on, an Athenian trireme arrived with envoys to try and defeat these manœuvres; while a Corinthian trireme also brought envoys from Corinth to aid the views of the opposite party. The mere presence of Corinthian envoys indicated a change in the political feeling of the island: but still more conspicuous did this change become, when a formal public assembly, after hearing both envoys, decided,—that Korkyra would maintain her alliance with Athens according to the limited terms of simple mutual defence originally stipulated;[449] but would at the same time be in relations of friendship with the Peloponnesians, as she had been before the Epidamnian quarrel. But the alliance between Athens and Korkyra had since become practically more intimate, and the Korkyræan fleet had aided the Athenians in the invasion of Peloponnesus:[450] accordingly, the resolution, now adopted, abandoned the present to go back to the past,—and to a past which could not be restored.

Looking to the war then raging between Athens and the Peloponnesians, such a declaration was self-contradictory: nor, indeed, did the oligarchical party intend it as anything else than a step to a more complete revolution, both foreign and domestic. They followed it up by a political prosecution against Peithias, the citizen of greatest personal influence among the people, who acted by his own choice as proxenus to the Athenians. They accused him of practising to bring Korkyra into slavery to Athens. What were the judicial institutions of the island, under which he was tried, we do not know: but he was acquitted of the charge; and he then revenged himself by accusing in his turn five of the richest among his oligarchical prosecutors, of the crime of sacrilege,—as having violated the sanctity of the sacred grove of Zeus and Alkinous, by causing stakes, for their vine-props, to be cut in it.[451] This was an act distinctly forbidden by law, under penalty of a stater or four drachms for every stake so cut: but it is no uncommon phenomenon, even in societies politically better organized than Korkyra, to find laws existing and unrepealed, yet habitually violated, sometimes even by every one, but still oftener by men of wealth and power, whom most people would be afraid to prosecute: moreover, in this case, no individual was injured by the act, and any one who came forward to prosecute would incur the odium of an informer,—which probably Peithias might not have chosen to brave under ordinary circumstances, though he thought himself justified in adopting this mode of retaliation against those who had prosecuted him. The language of Thucydidês implies that the fact was not denied: nor is there any difficulty in conceiving that these rich men may have habitually resorted to the sacred property for vine-stakes. On being found guilty and condemned, they cast themselves as suppliants at the temples, and entreated the indulgence of being allowed to pay the fine by instalments: but Peithias, then a member of the (annual) senate, to whom the petition was referred, opposed it, and caused its rejection, leaving the law to take its course. It was moreover understood, that he was about to avail himself of his character of senator,—and of his increased favor, probably arising from the recent judicial acquittal,—to propose in the public assembly a reversal of the resolution recently passed, and a new resolution to recognize only the same friends and the same enemies as Athens.

Pressed by the ruinous fine upon the five persons condemned, as well as by the fear that Peithias might carry his point and thus completely defeat their project of Corinthian alliance, the oligarchical party resolved to carry their point by violence and murder. They collected a party armed with daggers, burst suddenly into the senate-house during full sitting, and there slew Peithias with sixty other persons, partly senators, partly private individuals: some others of his friends escaped the same fate by getting aboard the Attic trireme which had brought the envoys, and which was still in the harbor, but now departed forthwith to Athens. These assassins, under the fresh terror arising from their recent act, convoked an assembly, affirmed that what they had done was unavoidable to guard Korkyra against being made the slave of Athens, and proposed a resolution of full neutrality, both towards Athens and towards the Peloponnesians,—to receive no visit from either of the belligerents, except of a pacific character, and with one single ship at a time. And this resolution the assembly was constrained to pass,—it probably was not very numerous, and the oligarchical partisans were at hand in arms.[452] At the same time they sent envoys to Athens, to communicate the recent events with such coloring as suited their views, and to dissuade the fugitive partisans of Peithias from provoking any armed Athenian intervention, such as might occasion a counter-revolution in the island.[453] With some of the fugitives, representations of this sort, or perhaps the fear of compromising their own families, left behind, prevailed: but most of them, and the Athenians along with them, appreciated better both what had been done, and what was likely to follow. The oligarchical envoys, together with such of the fugitives as had been induced to adopt their views, were seized by the Athenians as conspirators, and placed in detention at Ægina; while a fleet of sixty Athenian triremes, under Eurymedon, was immediately fitted out to sail for Korkyra,—for which there was the greater necessity, as the Lacedæmonian fleet, under Alkidas, lately mustered at Kyllênê after its return from Ionia, was understood to be on the point of sailing thither.[454]

But the oligarchical leaders at Korkyra knew better than to rely on the chances of this mission to Athens, and proceeded in the execution of their conspiracy with that rapidity which was best calculated to insure its success. On the arrival of a Corinthian trireme, which brought ambassadors from Sparta, and probably also brought news that the fleet of Alkidas would shortly appear,—they organized their force, and attacked the people and the democratical authorities. The Korkyræan Demos were at first vanquished and dispersed; but during the night they collected together and fortified themselves in the upper parts of the town near the acropolis, and from thence down to the Hyllaic harbor, one of the two harbors which the town possessed; while the other harbor and the chief arsenal, facing the mainland of Epirus, was held by the oligarchical party, together with the market-place near to it, in and around which the wealthier Korkyræans chiefly resided. In this divided state the town remained throughout the ensuing day, during which the Demos sent emissaries round the territory soliciting aid from the working slaves, and promising to them emancipation as a reward; while the oligarchy also hired and procured eight hundred Epirotic mercenaries from the mainland. Reinforced by the slaves, who flocked in at the call received, the Demos renewed the struggle on the morrow, more furiously than before. Both in position and numbers they had the advantage over the oligarchy, and the intense resolution with which they fought communicated itself even to the women, who, braving danger and tumult, took active part in the combat, especially by flinging tiles from the housetops. Towards the afternoon, the people became decidedly victorious, and were even on the point of carrying by assault the lower town, together with the neighboring arsenal, both held by the oligarchy,—nor had the latter any other chance of safety except the desperate resource of setting fire to that part of the town, with the market-place, houses, and buildings all around it, their own among the rest. This proceeding drove back the assailants, but destroyed much property belonging to merchants in the warehouses, together with a large part of the town: indeed, had the wind been favorable the entire town would have been consumed. The people being thus victorious, the Corinthian trireme, together with most of the Epirotic mercenaries, thought it safer to leave the island; while the victors were still farther strengthened on the ensuing morning by the arrival of the Athenian admiral Nikostratus, with twelve triremes from Naupaktus,[455] and five hundred Messenian hoplites.

Nikostratus did his best to allay the furious excitement prevailing, and to persuade the people to use their victory with moderation. Under his auspices, a convention of amnesty and peace was concluded between the contending parties, save only ten proclaimed individuals of the most violent oligarchs, who were to be tried as ringleaders: these men of course soon disappeared, so that there would have been no trial at all, which seems to have been what Nikostratus desired. At the same time an alliance offensive and defensive was established between Korkyra and Athens, and the Athenian admiral was then on the point of departing, when the Korkyræan leaders entreated him to leave with them, for greater safety, five ships out of his little fleet of twelve,—offering him five of their own triremes instead. Notwithstanding the peril of this proposition to himself, Nikostratus acceded to it, and the Korkyræans, preparing the five ships to be sent along with him, began to enroll among the crews the names of their principal enemies. To the latter this presented the appearance of sending them to Athens, which they accounted a sentence of death. Under this impression they took refuge as suppliants in the temple of the Dioskuri, where Nikostratus went to visit them and tried to reassure them by the promise that nothing was intended against their personal safety. But he found it impossible to satisfy them, and as they persisted in refusing to serve, the Korkyræan Demos began to suspect treachery. They took arms again, searched the houses of the recusants for arms, and were bent on putting some of them to death, if Nikostratus had not taken them under his protection. The principal men of the defeated party, to the number of about four hundred, now took sanctuary in the temple and sacred ground of Hêrê; and the leaders of the people, afraid that in this inviolable position they might still cause further insurrection in the city, opened a negotiation and prevailed upon them to be ferried across to the little island immediately opposite to the Heræum; where they were kept under watch, with provisions regularly transmitted across to them, for four days.[456]

At the end of these four days, while the uneasiness of the popular leaders still continued, and Nikostratus still adjourned his departure, a new phase opened in this melancholy drama. The Peloponnesian fleet under Alkidas arrived at the road of Sybota on the opposite mainland,—fifty-three triremes in number, for the forty triremes brought back from Ionia had been reinforced by thirteen more from Leukas and Ambrakia, and the Lacedæmonians had sent down Brasidas as advising companion,—himself worth more than the new thirteen triremes, if he had been sent to supersede Alkidas, instead of bringing nothing but authority to advise.[457] Despising the small squadron of Nikostratus, then at Naupaktus, they were only anxious to deal with Korkyra before reinforcements should arrive from Athens: but the repairs necessary for the ships of Alkidas, after their disastrous voyage home, occasioned an unfortunate delay. When the Peloponnesian fleet was seen approaching from Sybota at break of day, the confusion in Korkyra was unspeakable: the Demos and the newly-emancipated slaves were agitated alike by the late terrible combat and by fear of the invaders,—the oligarchical party, though defeated, was still present and forming a considerable minority, and the town was half burnt. Amidst such elements of trouble, there was little authority to command, and still less confidence or willingness to obey. Plenty of triremes were indeed at hand, and orders were given to man sixty of them forthwith,—while Nikostratus, the only man who preserved the cool courage necessary for effective resistance, entreated the Korkyræan leaders to proceed with regularity, and to wait till all were manned, so as to sail forth from the harbor in a body. He offered himself with his twelve Athenian triremes to go forth first alone, and occupy the Peloponnesian fleet, until the Korkyræan sixty triremes could all come out in full array to support him. He accordingly went forth with his squadron; but the Korkyræans, instead of following his advice, sent their ships out one by one and without any selection of crews. Two of them deserted forthwith to the enemy, while others presented the spectacle of crews fighting among themselves; even those which actually joined battle came up by single ships, without the least order or concert.

The Peloponnesians, soon seeing that they had little to fear from such enemies, thought it sufficient to set twenty of their ships against the Korkyræans, while with the remaining thirty-three they moved forward to contend with the twelve Athenians. Nikostratus, having plenty of sea-room, was not afraid of this numerical superiority,—the more so, as two of his twelve triremes were the picked vessels of the Athenian navy,—the Salaminia and the Paralus.[458] He took care to avoid entangling himself with the centre of the enemy, and to keep rowing about their flanks; and as he presently contrived to disable one of their ships, by a fortunate blow with the beak of one of his vessels, the Peloponnesians, instead of attacking him with their superior numbers, formed themselves into a circle and stood on the defensive, as they had done in the first combat with Phormio in the middle of the strait at Rhium. Nikostratus (like Phormio) rowed round this circle, trying to cause confusion by feigned approach, and waiting to see some of the ships lose their places or run foul of each other, so as to afford him an opening for attack. And he might perhaps have succeeded, if the remaining twenty Peloponnesian ships, seeing the proceeding, and recollecting with dismay the success of a similar manœuvre in the former battle, had not quitted the Korkyræan ships, whose disorderly condition they despised, and hastened to join their comrades. The whole fleet of fifty-three triremes now again took the aggressive, and advanced to attack Nikostratus, who retreated before them, but backing astern and keeping the head of his ships towards the enemy. In this manner he succeeded in drawing them away from the town, so as to leave to most of the Korkyræan ships opportunity for getting back to the harbor; while such was the superior manœuvring of the Athenian triremes, that the Peloponnesians were never able to come up with him or force him to action. They returned back in the evening to Sybota, with no greater triumph than their success against the Korkyræans, thirteen of whose triremes they carried away as prizes.[459]

It was the expectation in Korkyra, that they would on the morrow make a direct attack—which could hardly have failed of success—on the town and harbor; and we may easily believe (what report afterwards stated), that Brasidas advised Alkidas to this decisive proceeding. And the Korkyræan leaders, more terrified than ever, first removed their prisoners from the little island to the Heræum, and then tried to come to a compromise with the oligarchical party generally, for the purpose of organizing some effective and united defence. Thirty triremes were made ready and manned, wherein some even of the oligarchical Korkyræans were persuaded to form part of the crews. But the slackness of Alkidas proved their best defence: instead of coming straight to the town, he contented himself with landing in the island at some distance from it, on the promontory of Leukimnê: after ravaging the neighboring lands for some hours, he returned to his station at Sybota. He had lost an opportunity which never again returned: for on the very same night the fire-signals of Leukas telegraphed to him the approach of the fleet under Eurymedon from Athens,—sixty triremes. His only thought was now for the escape of the Peloponnesian fleet, which was in fact saved by this telegraphic notice. Advantage was taken of the darkness to retire close along the land as far as the isthmus which separates Leukas from the mainland,—across which isthmus the ships were dragged by hand or machinery, so that they might not fall in with or be descried by the Athenian fleet in sailing round the Leukadian promontory. From hence Alkidas made the best of his way home to Peloponnesus, leaving the Korkyræan oligarchs to their fate.[460]

That fate was deplorable in the extreme. The arrival of Eurymedon opens a third unexpected transition in this checkered narrative,—the Korkyræan Demos passing, abruptly and unexpectedly, from intense alarm and helplessness to elate and irresistible mastery. In the bosom of Greeks, and in a population seemingly amongst the least refined of all Greeks,—including too a great many slaves just emancipated against the will of their masters, and of course the fiercest and most discontented of all the slaves in the island,—such a change was but too sure to kindle a thirst for revenge almost ungovernable, as the only compensation for foregone terror and suffering. As soon as the Peloponnesian fleet was known to have fled, and that of Eurymedon was seen approaching, the Korkyræan leaders brought into the town the five hundred Messenian hoplites who had hitherto been encamped without; thus providing a resource against any last effort of despair on the part of their interior enemies. Next, the thirty ships recently manned,—and held ready, in the harbor facing the continent, to go out against the Peloponnesian fleet, but now no longer needed, were ordered to sail round to the other or Hyllaic harbor. Even while they were thus sailing round, some obnoxious men of the defeated party, being seen in public, were slain: but when the ships arrived at the Hyllaic harbor, and the crews were disembarked, a more wholesale massacre was perpetrated, by singling out those individuals of the oligarchical faction who had been persuaded on the day before to go aboard as part of the crews, and putting them to death.[461] Then came the fate of those suppliants, about four hundred in number, who had been brought back from the islet opposite, and were yet under sanctuary in the sacred precinct of the Heræum. It was proposed to them to quit sanctuary and stand their trial; and fifty of them having accepted the proposition, were put on their trial,—all condemned, and all executed. Their execution took place, as it seems, immediately on the spot, and within actual view of the unhappy men still remaining in the sacred ground;[462] who, seeing that their lot was desperate, preferred dying by their own hands to starvation or the sword of their enemies. Some hung themselves on branches of the trees surrounding the temple, others helped their friends in the work of suicide, and, in one way or another, the entire band thus perished: it was probably a consolation to them to believe, that this desecration of the precinct would bring down the anger of the gods upon their surviving enemies.

Eurymedon remained with his fleet for seven days, during all which time the victorious Korkyræans carried on a sanguinary persecution against the party who had been concerned in the late oligarchical revolution. Five hundred of this party contrived to escape by flight to the mainland; while those who did not, or could not flee, were slain wherever they could be found. Some received their death-wounds even on the altar itself,—others shared the same fate, after having been dragged away from it by violence. In one case, a party of murderers having pursued their victims to the temple of Dionysius, refrained from shedding their blood, but built up the doorway and left them to starve; as the Lacedæmonians had done on a former occasion respecting Pausanias. Such was the ferocity of the time, that in one case a father slew his own son. Nor was it merely the oligarchical party who thus suffered: the floodgates of private feud were also opened, and various individuals, under false charges of having been concerned in the oligarchical movements, were slain by personal enemies or debtors. This deplorable suspension of legal, as well as moral restraints, continued during the week of Eurymedon’s stay,—a period long enough to satiate the fierce sentiment out of which it arose;[463] yet without any apparent effort on his part to soften the victors or protect the vanquished. We shall see farther reason hereafter to appreciate the baseness and want of humanity in his character: but had Nikostratus remained in command, we may fairly presume, judging by what he had done in the earlier part of the sedition, with very inferior force, that he would have set much earlier limits to the Korkyræan butchery: unfortunately, Thucydidês tells us nothing at all about Nikostratus, after the naval battle of the preceding day.[464]

We should have been glad to hear something about the steps taken in the way of restoration or healing, after this burst of murderous fury, in which doubtless the newly-emancipated slaves were not the most backward, and after the departure of Eurymedon. But here again Thucydidês disappoints our curiosity. We only hear from him, that the oligarchical exiles who had escaped to the mainland were strong enough to get possession of the forts and most part of the territory there belonging to Korkyra; just as the exiles from Samos and Mitylênê became more or less completely masters of the Peræa or mainland possessions belonging to those islands. They even sent envoys to Corinth and Sparta, in hopes of procuring aid to accomplish their restoration by force, but their request found no favor, and they were reduced to their own resources. After harassing for some time the Korkyræans in the island by predatory incursions, so as to produce considerable dearth and distress, they at length collected a band of Epirotic mercenaries, passed over to the island, and there established a fortified position on the mountain called Istônê, not far from the city. They burned their vessels in order to cut off all hopes of retreat, and maintained themselves for near two years on a system of ravage and plunder which inflicted great misery on the island.[465] This was a frequent way whereby, of old, invaders wore out and mastered a city, the walls of which they found impregnable. The ultimate fate of these occupants of Istônê, which belongs to a future chapter, will be found to constitute a close suitable to the bloody drama yet unfinished in Korkyra.

Such a drama could not be acted, in an important city belonging to the Greek name, without producing a deep and extensive impression throughout all the other cities. And Thucydidês has taken advantage of it to give a sort of general sketch of Grecian politics during the Peloponnesian war; violence of civil discord in each city, aggravated by foreign war, and by the contending efforts of Athens and Sparta,—the former espousing the democratical party everywhere; the latter, the oligarchical. The Korkyræan sedition was the first case in which these two causes of political antipathy and exasperation were seen acting with full united force, and where the malignity of sentiment and demoralization flowing from such an union was seen without disguise. The picture drawn by Thucydidês, of moral and political feeling under these influences, will ever remain memorable as the work of an analyst and a philosopher: he has conceived and described the perverting causes with a spirit of generalization which renders these two chapters hardly less applicable to other political societies, far distant both in time and place,—especially, under many points of view, to France between 1789 and 1799,—than to Greece in the fifth century before the Christian era. The deadly bitterness infused into intestine party contests by the accompanying dangers of foreign war and intervention of foreign enemies,—the mutual fears between political rivals, where each thinks that the other will forestall him in striking a mortal blow, and where constitutional maxims have ceased to carry authority either as restraint or as protection,—the superior popularity of the man who is most forward with the sword, or who runs down his enemies in the most unmeasured language, coupled with the disposition to treat both prudence in action and candor in speech as if it were nothing but treachery or cowardice,—the exclusive regard to party ends, with the reckless adoption, and even admiring preference, of fraud or violence as the most effectual means,—the loss of respect for legal authority, as well as of confidence in private agreement, and the surrender even of blood and friendship to the overruling ascendency of party-ties,—the perversion of ordinary morality, bringing with it altered signification of all the common words importing blame or approbation,—the unnatural predominance of the ambitious and contentious passions, overpowering in men’s minds all real public objects, and equalizing for the time the better and the worse cause, by taking hold of democracy on one side and aristocracy on the other as mere pretences to sanctify personal triumph,—all these gloomy social phenomena, here indicated by the historian, have their causes deeply seated in the human mind, and are likely, unless the bases of constitutional morality shall come to be laid more surely and firmly than they have hitherto been, to recur from time to time, under diverse modifications, “so long as human nature shall be the same as it is now,” to use the language of Thucydidês himself.[466] He has described, with fidelity not inferior to his sketch of the pestilence at Athens, the symptoms of a certain morbid political condition, wherein the vehemence of intestine conflict, instead of being kept within such limits as consists with the maintenance of one society among the contending parties, becomes for the time inflamed and poisoned with all the unscrupulous hostility of foreign war, chiefly from actual alliance between parties within the state and foreigners without. In following the impressive description of the historian, we have to keep in mind the general state of manners in his time, especially the cruelties tolerated by the laws of war, as compared with that greater humanity and respect for life which has grown up during the last two centuries in modern Europe. And we have farther to recollect that if he had been describing the effects of political fury among Carthaginians and Jews, instead of among his contemporary Greeks, he would have added to his list of horrors mutilation, crucifixion, and other refinements on simple murder.

The language of Thucydidês is to be taken rather as a generalization and concentration of phenomena which he had observed among different communities, rather than as belonging altogether to any one of them. Nor are we to believe—what a superficial reading of his opening words might at first suggest—that the bloodshed in Korkyra was only the earliest, but by no means the worst, of a series of similar horrors spread over the Grecian world. The facts stated in his own history suffice to show that though the same causes which worked upon this unfortunate island became disseminated, and produced analogous mischiefs throughout many other communities, yet the case of Korkyra, as it was the first, so it was also the worst and most aggravated in point of intensity. Fortunately, the account of Thucydidês enables us to understand it from beginning to end, and to appreciate the degree of guilt of the various parties implicated, which we can seldom do with certainty; because when once the interchange of violence has begun, the feelings arising out of the contest itself presently overpower in the minds of both parties the original cause of dispute, as well as all scruples as to fitness of means. Unjustifiable acts in abundance are committed by both, and in comparing the two, we are often obliged to employ the emphatic language which Tacitus uses respecting Otho and Vitellius: “Deteriorem fore, quisquis vicisset;” of two bad men, all that the Roman world could foresee was, that the victor, whichsoever he was, would prove the worst.

But in regard to the Korkyræan revolution, we can arrive at a more discriminating criticism. We see that it is from the beginning the work of a selfish oligarchical party, playing the game of a foreign enemy, and the worst and most ancient enemy of the island,—aiming to subvert the existing democracy and acquire power for themselves, and ready to employ any measure of fraud or violence for the attainment of these objects. While the democracy which they attack is purely defensive and conservative, the oligarchical movers, having tried fair means in vain, are the first to employ foul means, which latter they find retorted with greater effect against themselves. They set the example of judicial prosecution against Peithias, for the destruction of a political antagonist; in the use of this same weapon, he proves more than a match for them, and employs it to their ruin. Next, they pass to the use of the dagger in the senate-house, against him and his immediate fellow-leaders, and to the wholesale application of the sword against the democracy generally. The Korkyræan Demos are thus thrown upon the defensive, and instead of the affections of ordinary life, all the most intense anti-social sentiments,—fear, pugnacity, hatred, vengeance, obtain unqualified possession of their bosoms; exaggerated too through the fluctuations of victory and defeat successively brought by Nikostratus, Alkidas, and Eurymedon. Their conduct as victors is such as we should expect under such maddening circumstances, from coarse men, mingled with liberated slaves: it is vindictive and murderous in the extreme, not without faithless breach of assurances given. But we must remember that they are driven to stand upon their defence, and that all their energies are indispensable to make that defence successful. They are provoked by an aggression no less guilty in the end than in the means,—an aggression, too, the more gratuitous, because, if we look at the state of the island at the time when the oligarchical captives were restored from Corinth, there was no pretence for affirming that it had suffered, or was suffering, any loss, hardship, or disgrace, from its alliance with Athens. These oligarchical insurgents find the island in a state of security and tranquillity,—since the war imposed upon it little necessity for effort,—they plunge it into a sea of blood, with enormities as well as suffering on both sides, which end at length in their own complete extermination. Our compassion for their final misery must not hinder us from appreciating the behavior whereby it was earned.

In the course of a few years from this time, we shall have occasion to recount two political movements in Athens, similar in principle and general result to this Korkyræan revolution; exhibiting oligarchical conspirators against an existing and conservative democracy, with this conspiracy at first successful, but afterwards put down, and the Demos again restored. The contrast between Athens and Korkyra, under such circumstances, will be found highly instructive, especially in regard to the Demos, both in the hours of defeat and in those of victory. It will then be seen how much the habit of active participation in political and judicial affairs,—of open, conflicting discussion, discharging the malignant passions by way of speech, and followed by appeal to the vote,—of having constantly present, to the mind of every citizen, in his character of dikast or ekklesiast, the conditions of a pacific society, and the paramount authority of a constitutional majority,—how much all these circumstances, brought home as they were at Athens more than in any other democracy to the feelings of individuals, contributed to soften the instincts of intestine violence and revenge, even under very great provocation.

But the case of Korkyra, as well as that of Athens, different in so many respects, conspire to illustrate another truth, of much importance in Grecian history. Both of them show how false and impudent were the pretensions set up by the rich and great men of the various Grecian cities, to superior morality, superior intelligence, and greater fitness for using honorably and beneficially the powers of government, as compared with the mass of the citizens. Though the Grecian oligarchies, exercising powerful sway over fashion, and more especially over the meaning of words, bestowed upon themselves the appellation of “the best men, the honorable and good, the elegant, the superior,” etc., and attached to those without their own circle epithets of a contrary tenor, implying low moral attributes,—no such difference will be found borne out by the facts of Grecian history.[467] Abundance of infirmity, with occasional bad passions, was doubtless liable to work upon the people generally, often corrupting and misguiding even the Athenian democracy, the best apparently of all the democracies in Greece. But after all, the rich and great men were only a part of the people, and taking them as a class, apart from honorable individual exceptions, by no means the best part. If exempted by their position from some of the vices which beset smaller and poorer men, they imbibed from that same position an unmeasured self-importance, and an excess of personal ambition as well as of personal appetite, peculiar to themselves, not less anti-social in tendency, and operating upon a much grander scale. To the prejudices and superstitions belonging to the age, they were noway superior, considering them as a class; while their animosities among one another, virulent and unscrupulous, were among the foremost causes of misfortune in Grecian commonwealth,—and indeed many of the most exceptionable acts committed by the democracies, consisted in their allowing themselves to be made the tools of one aristocrat for the ruin of another. Of the intense party-selfishness which characterized them as a body, sometimes exaggerated into the strongest anti-popular antipathy, as we see in the famous oligarchical oath cited by Aristotle,[468] we shall find many illustrations as we advance in the history, but none more striking than this Korkyræan revolution.