Thus was Dion, after ten years of exile, once more on Sicilian ground. The favorable predictions of Miltas had been completely realized. But even that prophet could hardly have been prepared for the wonderful tidings now heard, which ensured the success of the expedition. Dionysius had recently sailed from Syracuse to Italy, with a fleet of eighty triremes.[188] What induced him to commit so capital a mistake, we cannot make out; for Philistus was already with a fleet in the Gulf of Tarentum, waiting to intercept Dion, and supposing that the invading squadron would naturally sail along the coast of Italy to Syracuse, according to the practice almost universal in that day.[189] Philistus did not commit the same mistake as Nikias had made in reference to Gylippus,[190]—that of despising Dion because of the smallness of his force. He watched in the usual waters, and was only disappointed because Dion, venturing on the bold and unusual straight course, was greatly favored by wind and weather. But while Philistus watched the coast of Italy, it was natural that Dionysius himself should keep guard with his main force at Syracuse. The despot was fully aware of the disaffection which reigned in the town, and of the hopes excited by Dion’s project; which was generally well known, though no one could tell how or at what moment the deliverer might be expected. Suspicious now to a greater degree than ever, Dionysius had caused a fresh search to be made in the city for arms, and had taken away all that he could find.[191] We may be sure too that his regiment of habitual spies were more on the alert than ever, and that unusual rigor was the order of the day. Yet, at this critical juncture, he thought proper to quit Syracuse with a very large portion of his force, leaving the command to Timokrates, the husband of Dion’s late wife; and at this same critical juncture Dion arrived at Minoa.

Nothing could exceed the joy of the Dionian soldiers on hearing of the departure of Dionysius, which left Syracuse open and easy of access. Eager to avail themselves of the favorable instant, they called upon their leader to march thither without delay, repudiating even that measure of rest which he recommended after the fatigues of the voyage. Accordingly, Dion, after a short refreshment provided by Synalus—with whom he deposited his spare arms, to be transmitted to him when required—set forward on his march towards Syracuse. On entering the Agrigentine territory, he was joined by two hundred horsemen near Eknomon.[192] Farther on, while passing through Gela and Kamarina, many inhabitants of these towns, together with some neighboring Sikans and Sikels, swelled his band. Lastly, when he approached the Syracusan border, a considerable proportion of the rural population came to him also, though without arms; making the reinforcements which joined him altogether about five thousand men.[193] Having armed these volunteers in the best manner he could, Dion continued his progress as far as Akræ, where he made a short evening halt. From thence, receiving good news from Syracuse, he recommenced his march during the latter half of the night, hastening forward to the passage over the river Anapus; which he had the good fortune to occupy without any opposition, before daybreak.

Dion was now within no more than a mile and a quarter of the walls of Syracuse. The rising sun disclosed his army to the view of the Syracusan population, who were doubtless impatiently watching for him. He was seen offering sacrifice to the river Anapus, and putting up a solemn prayer to the god Helios, then just showing himself above the horizon. He wore the wreath habitual with those who were thus employed; while his soldiers, animated by the confident encouragement of the prophets, had taken wreaths also.[194] Elate and enthusiastic, they passed the Anapus (seemingly at the bridge which formed part of the Helorine way), advanced at a running pace across the low plain which divided the southern cliff of Epipolæ from the Great Harbor, and approached the gates of the quarter of Syracuse called Neapolis—the Temenitid Gates, near the chapel of Apollo Temenites.[195] Dion was at their head, in resplendent armor, with a body-guard near him composed of one hundred of his Peloponnesians. His brother Megaklês was on one side of him, his friend the Athenian Kallippus on the other; all three, and a large proportion of the soldiers also, still crowned with their sacrificial wreaths, as if marching in a joyous festival procession, with victory already assured.[196]

As yet Dion had not met with the smallest resistance. Timokrates (left at Syracuse with the large mercenary force as vicegerent), while he sent an express to apprise Dionysius, kept his chief hold on the two military positions or horns of the city; the island of Ortygia at one extremity, and Epipolæ with Euryalus on the other. It has already been mentioned that Epipolæ was a triangle slope, with walls bordering both the northern and southern cliffs, and forming an angle on the western apex, where stood the strong fort of Euryalus. Between Ortygia and Epipolæ lay the populous quarters of Syracuse, wherein the great body of citizens resided. As the disaffection of the Syracusans was well known, Timokrates thought it unsafe to go out of the city, and meet Dion on the road, for fear of revolt within. But he perhaps might have occupied the important bridge over the Anapus, had not a report reached him that Dion was directing his attack first against Leontini. Many of the Campanian mercenaries under the command of Timokrates, having properties in Leontini, immediately quitted Epipolæ to go thither and defend them.[197] This rumor—false, and perhaps intentionally spread by the invaders—not only carried off much of the garrison elsewhere, but also misled Timokrates; insomuch that Dion was allowed to make his night march, to reach the Anapus, and to find it unoccupied.

It was too late for Timokrates to resist, when the rising sun had once exhibited the army of Dion crossing the Anapus. The effect produced upon the Syracusans in the populous quarters was electric. They rose like one man to welcome their deliverer, and to put down the dynasty which had hung about their necks for forty-eight years. Such of the mercenaries of Dionysius as were in these central portions of the city were forced to seek shelter in Epipolæ, while his police and spies were pursued and seized, to undergo the full terrors of a popular vengeance.[198] Far from being able to go forth against Dion, Timokrates could not even curb the internal insurrection. So thoroughly was he intimidated by the reports of his terrified police, and by the violent and unanimous burst of wrath among a people whom every Dionysian partisan had long been accustomed to treat as disarmed slaves—that he did not think himself safe even in Epipolæ. But he could not find means of getting to Ortygia, since the intermediate city was in the hands of his enemies, while Dion and his troops were crossing the low plain between Epipolæ and the Great Harbor. It only remained for him therefore to evacuate Syracuse altogether, and to escape from Epipolæ either by the northern or the western side. To justify his hasty flight, he spread the most terrific reports respecting the army of Dion, and thus contributed still farther to paralyze the discouraged partisans of Dionysius.[199]

Already had Dion reached the Temenitid gate, where the principal citizens, clothed in their best attire, and the multitude pouring forth loud and joyous acclamations, were assembled to meet him. Halting at the gate, he caused his trumpet to sound, and entreated silence; after which he formally proclaimed, that he and his brother Megakles were come for the purpose of putting down the Dionysian despotism, and of giving liberty both to the Syracusans and the other Sicilian Greeks. The acclamations redoubled as he and his soldiers entered the city, first through Neapolis, next by the ascent up to Achradina; the main street of which (broad, continuous, and straight, as was rare in a Grecian city[200]) was decorated as on a day of jubilee, with victims under sacrifice to the gods, tables, and bowls of wine ready prepared for festival. As Dion advanced at the head of his soldiers through a lane formed in the midst of this crowd, from each side wreaths were cast upon him as upon an Olympic victor, and grateful prayers addressed to him, as it were to a god.[201] Every house was a scene of clamorous joy, in which men and women, freemen and slaves, took part alike; the outburst of feelings long compressed and relieved from the past despotism with its inquisitorial police and garrison.

It was not yet time for Dion to yield to these pleasing but passive impulses. Having infused courage into his soldiers as well as into the citizens by his triumphant procession through Achradina, he descended to the level ground in front of Ortygia. That strong hold was still occupied by the Dionysian garrison, whom he thus challenged to come forth and fight. But the flight of Timokrates had left them without orders, while the imposing demonstration and unanimous rising of the people in Achradina—which they must partly have witnessed from their walls, and partly learnt through fugitive spies and partisans—struck them with discouragement and terror; so that they were in no disposition to quit the shelter of their fortifications. Their backwardness was hailed as a confession of inferiority by the insurgent citizens, whom Dion now addressed as an assembly of freemen. Hard by, in front of the acropolis with its Pentapyla or five gates, there stood a lofty and magnificent sun-dial, erected by the elder Dionysius. Mounting on the top of this edifice, with the muniments of the despot on the one side and the now liberated Achradina on the other, Dion addressed[202] an animated harangue to the Syracusans around, exhorting them to strenuous efforts in defence of their newly acquired rights and liberties, and inviting them to elect generals for the command, in order to accomplish the total expulsion of the Dionysian garrison. The Syracusans, with unanimous acclamations, named Dion and his brother Megakles generals with full powers. But both the brothers insisted that colleagues should be elected along with them. Accordingly twenty other persons were chosen besides, ten of them being from that small band of Syracusan exiles who had joined at Zakynthus.

Such was the entry of Dion into Syracuse, on the third day[203] after his landing in Sicily; and such the first public act of renewed Syracusan freedom; the first after that fatal vote which, forty-eight years before, had elected the elder Dionysius general plenipotentiary, and placed in his hands the sword of state, without foresight of the consequences. In the hands of Dion, that sword was vigorously employed against the common enemy. He immediately attacked Epipolæ; and such was the consternation of the garrison left in it by the fugitive Timokrates, that they allowed him to acquire possession of it, together with the strong fort of Euryalus, which a little courage and devotion might long have defended. This acquisition, made suddenly in the tide of success on one side and discouragement on the other, was of supreme importance, and went far to determine the ultimate contest. It not only reduced the partisans of Dionysius within the limits of Ortygia, but also enabled Dion to set free many state prisoners,[204] who became ardent partisans of the revolution. Following up his success, he lost no time in taking measures against Ortygia. To shut it up completely on the land-side, he commenced the erection of a wall of blockade, reaching from the Great Harbor at one extremity, to the sea on the eastern side of the Portus Lakkius, at the other.[205] He at the same time provided arms as well as he could for the citizens, sending for those spare arms which he had deposited with Synalus at Minoa. It does not appear that the garrison of Ortygia made any sally to impede him; so that in the course of seven days, he had not only received his arms from Synalus, but had completed, in a rough way, all or most of the blockading cross-wall.[206]

At the end of these seven days, but not before (having been prevented by accident from receiving the express sent to him), Dionysius returned with his fleet to Ortygia.[207] Fatally indeed was his position changed. The islet was the only portion of the city which he possessed, and that too was shut up on the land-side by a blockading wall nearly completed. All the rest of the city was occupied by bitter enemies instead of by subjects. Leontini also, and probably many of his other dependencies out of Syracuse, had taken the opportunity of revolting.[208] Even with the large fleet which he had brought home, Dionysius did not think himself strong enough to face his enemies in the field, but resorted to stratagem. He first tried to open a private intrigue with Dion; who, however, refused to receive any separate propositions, and desired him to address them publicly to the freemen, citizens of Syracuse. Accordingly, he sent envoys tendering to the Syracusans what in the present day would be called a constitution. He demanded only moderate taxation, and moderate fulfilments of military service, subject to their own vote of consent. But the Syracusans laughed the offer to scorn, and Dion returned in their name the peremptory reply,—that no proposition from Dionysius could be received, short of total abdication; adding in his own name, that he would himself, on the score of kindred, procure for Dionysius, if he did abdicate, both security and other reasonable concessions. These terms Dionysius affected to approve, desiring that envoys might be sent to him in Ortygia to settle the details. Both Dion and the Syracusans eagerly caught at his offer, without for a moment questioning his sincerity. Some of the most eminent Syracusans, approved by Dion, were despatched as envoys to Dionysius. A general confidence prevailed, that the retirement of the despot was now assured; and the soldiers and citizens employed against him, full of joy and mutual congratulations, became negligent of their guard on the cross-wall of blockade; many of them even retiring to their houses in the city.

This was what Dionysius expected. Contriving to prolong the discussion, so as to detain the envoys in Ortygia all night, he ordered at daybreak a sudden sally of all his soldiers, whom he had previously stimulated both by wine and by immense promises in case of victory.[209] The sally was well-timed and at first completely successful. One half of Dion’s soldiers were encamped to guard the cross-wall (the other half being quartered in Achradina), together with a force of Syracusan citizens. But so little were they prepared for hostilities, that the assailants, rushing out with shouts and at a run, carried the wall at the first onset, slew the sentinels, and proceeded to demolish the wall (which was probably a rough and hasty structure) as well as to charge the troops on the outside of it. The Syracusans, surprised and terrified, fled with little or no resistance. Their flight partially disordered the stouter Dionian soldiers, who resisted bravely, but without having had time to form their regular array. Never was Dion more illustrious, both as an officer and as a soldier. He exerted himself to the utmost to form the troops, and to marshal them in ranks essential to the effective fighting of the Grecian hoplite. But his orders were unheard in the clamor, or disregarded in the confusion: his troops lost courage, the assailants gained ground, and the day seemed evidently going against him. Seeing that there was no other resource, he put himself at the head of his best and most attached soldiers, and threw himself, though now an elderly man, into the thickest of the fray. The struggle was the more violent, as it took place in a narrow space between the new blockading wall on one side, and the outer wall of Neapolis on the other. Both the armor and the person of Dion being conspicuous, he was known to enemies as well as friends, and the battle around him was among the most obstinate in Grecian history.[210] Darts rattled against both his shield and his helmet, while his shield was also pierced through by several spears which were kept from his body only by the breastplate. At length he was wounded through the right arm or hand, thrown on the ground, and in imminent danger of being made prisoner. But this forwardness on his part so stimulated the courage of his own troops, that they both rescued him, and made redoubled efforts against the enemy. Having named Timonides commander in his place, Dion with his disabled hand mounted on horseback, rode into Achradina, and led forth to the battle that portion of his troops which were there in garrison. These men, fresh and good soldiers, restored the battle. The Syracusans came back to the field, all joined in strenuous conflict, and the Dionysian assailants were at length again driven within the walls of Ortygia. The loss on both sides was severe; that of Dionysius eight hundred men; all of whom he caused to be picked up from the field (under a truce granted on his request by Dion), and buried with magnificent obsequies, as a means of popularizing himself with the survivors.[211]

When we consider how doubtful the issue of this battle had proved, it seems evident that had Timokrates maintained himself in Epipolæ, so as to enable Dionysius to remain master of Epipolæ as well as of Ortygia, the success of Dion’s whole enterprise in Syracuse would have been seriously endangered.

Great was the joy excited at Syracuse by the victory. The Syracusan people testified their gratitude to the Dionian soldiers by voting a golden wreath to the value of one hundred minæ; while these soldiers, charmed with the prowess of their general, voted a golden wreath to him. Dion immediately began the re-establishment of the damaged cross-wall, which he repaired, completed, and put under effective guard for the future.[212] Dionysius no longer tried to impede it by armed attack. But as he was still superior at sea, he transported parties across the harbor to ravage the country for provisions, and despatched vessels to bring in stores also by sea. His superiority at sea was presently lessened by the arrival of Herakleides from Peloponnesus,[213] with twenty triremes, three smaller vessels, and fifteen hundred soldiers. The Syracusans, now beginning to show themselves actively on shipboard, got together a tolerable naval force. All the docks and wharfs lay concentrated in and around Ortygia, within the grasp of Dionysius, who was master of the naval force belonging to the city. But it would seem that the crews of some of the ships (who were mostly native Syracusans,[214] with an intermixture of Athenians, doubtless of democratical sentiments) must have deserted from the despot to the people, carrying over their ships, since we presently find the Syracusans with a fleet of sixty triremes,[215] which they could hardly have acquired otherwise.

Dionysius was shortly afterwards reinforced by Philistus, who brought to Ortygia, not only his fleet from the Tarentine Gulf, but also a considerable regiment of cavalry. With these latter, and some other troops besides, Philistus undertook an expedition against the revolted Leontini. But though he made his way into the town by night, he was presently expelled by the defenders, seconded by reinforcements from Syracuse.[216]

To keep Ortygia provisioned, however, it was yet more indispensable for Philistus to maintain his superiority at sea against the growing naval power of the Syracusans, now commanded by Herakleides.[217] After several partial engagements, a final battle, desperate and decisive, at length took place between the two admirals. Both fleets were sixty triremes strong. At first Philistus, brave and forward, appeared likely to be victorious. But presently the fortune of the day turned against him. His ship was run ashore, and himself with most part of his fleet, overpowered by the enemy. To escape captivity, he stabbed himself. The wound however was not mortal; so that he fell alive, being now about seventy-eight years of age, into the hands of his enemies,—who stripped him naked, insulted him brutally, and at length cut off his head, after which they dragged his body by the leg through the streets of Syracuse.[218] Revolting as this treatment is, we must recollect that it was less horrible than that which the elder Dionysius had inflicted on the Rhegine general Phyton.

The last hopes of the Dionysian dynasty perished with Philistus, the ablest and most faithful of its servants. He had been an actor in its first day of usurpation—its eighteenth Brumaire: his timely, though miserable death, saved him from sharing in its last day of exile—its St. Helena.

Even after the previous victory of Dion, Dionysius had lost all chance of overcoming the Syracusans by force. But he had now farther lost, through the victory of Herakleides, his superiority at sea, and therefore his power even of maintaining himself permanently in Ortygia. The triumph of Dion seemed assured, and his enemy humbled in the dust. But though thus disarmed, Dionysius was still formidable by his means of raising intrigue and dissension in Syracuse. His ancient antipathy against Dion became more vehement than ever. Obliged to forego empire himself—yet resolved at any rate that Dion should be ruined along with him—he set on foot a tissue of base manœuvres availing himself of the fears and jealousies of the Syracusans, the rivalry of Herakleides, the defects of Dion, and what was more important than all—the relationship of Dion to the Dionysian dynasty.

Dion had displayed devoted courage, and merited the signal gratitude of the Syracusans. But he had been nursed in the despotism, of which his father had been one of the chief founders; he was attached by every tie of relationship to Dionysius, with whom his sister, his former wife, and his children, were still dwelling in the acropolis. The circumstances therefore were such as to suggest to the Syracusans apprehensions, noway unreasonable, that some private bargain might be made by Dion with the acropolis, and that the eminent services which he had just rendered might only be made the stepping-stone to a fresh despotism in his person. Such suspicions received much countenance from the infirmities of Dion, who combined, with a masculine and magnanimous character, manners so haughty as to be painfully felt even by his own companions. The friendly letters from Syracuse, written to Plato or to others at Athens (possibly those from Timonides to Speusippus) shortly after the victory, contained much complaint of the repulsive demeanor of Dion; which defect the philosopher exhorted his friend to amend.[219] All those, whom Dion’s arrogance offended, were confirmed in their suspicion of his despotic designs, and induced to turn for protection to his rival Herakleides. This latter—formerly general in the service of Dionysius, from whose displeasure he had only saved his life by flight—had been unable or unwilling to coöperate with Dion in his expedition from Zakynthus, but had since brought to the aid of the Syracusans a considerable force, including several armed ships. Though not present at the first entry into Syracuse, nor arriving until Ortygia had already been placed under blockade, Herakleides was esteemed the equal of Dion in abilities and in military efficiency; while with regard to ulterior designs, he had the prodigious advantage of being free from connection with the despotism and of raising no mistrust. Moreover his manners were not only popular, but according to Plutarch,[220] more than popular—smooth, insidious, and dexterous in criminatory speech, for the ruin of rivals and for his own exaltation.

As the contest presently came to be carried on rather at sea than on land, the equipment of a fleet became indispensable; so that Herakleides, who had brought the greatest number of triremes, naturally rose in importance. Shortly after his arrival, the Syracusan assembly passed a vote to appoint him admiral. But Dion, who seems only to have heard of this vote after it had passed, protested against it as derogating from the full powers which the Syracusans had by their former vote conferred upon himself. Accordingly the people, though with reluctance, cancelled their vote, and deposed Herakleides. Having then gently rebuked Herakleides for raising discord at a season when the common enemy was still dangerous, Dion convened another assembly; wherein he proposed, from himself, the appointment of Herakleides as admiral, with a guard equal to his own.[221] The right of nomination thus assumed displeased the Syracusans, humiliated Herakleides, and exasperated his partisans as well as the fleet which he commanded. It gave him power—together with provocation to employ that power for the ruin of Dion; who thus laid himself doubly open to genuine mistrust from some, and to intentional calumny from others.

It is necessary to understand this situation, in order to appreciate the means afforded to Dionysius for personal intrigue directed against Dion. Though the vast majority of Syracusans were hostile to Dionysius, yet there were among them many individuals connected with those serving under him in Ortygia, and capable of being put in motion to promote his views. Shortly after the complete defeat of his sally, he renewed his solicitations for peace; to which Dion returned the peremptory answer, that no peace could be concluded until Dionysius abdicated and retired. Next, Dionysius sent out heralds from Ortygia with letters addressed to Dion from his female relatives. All these letters were full of complaints of the misery endured by these poor women; together with prayers that he would relax in his hostility. To avert suspicion, Dion caused the letters to be opened and read publicly before the Syracusan assembly; but their tenor was such, that suspicion, whether expressed or not, unavoidably arose, as to the effect on Dion’s sympathies. One letter there was, bearing on its superscription the words “Hipparinus (the son of Dion) to his father.” At first many persons present refused to take cognizance of a communication so strictly private; but Dion insisted, and the letter was publicly read. It proved to come, not from the youthful Hipparinus, but from Dionysius himself, and was insidiously worded for the purpose of discrediting Dion in the minds of the Syracusans. It began by reminding him of the long service which he had rendered to the despotism. It implored him not to bury that great power, as well as his own relatives, in one common ruin, for the sake of a people who would turn round and sting him, so soon as he had given them freedom. It offered, on the part of Dionysius himself, immediate retirement, provided Dion would consent to take his place. But it threatened, if Dion refused, the sharpest tortures against his female relatives and his son.[222]

This letter, well-turned as a composition for its own purpose, was met by indignant refusal and protestation on the part of Dion. Without doubt his refusal would be received with cheers by the assembly; but the letter did not the less instil its intended poison into their minds. Plutarch displays[223] (in my judgment) no great knowledge of human nature, when he complains of the Syracusans for suffering the letter to impress them with suspicions of Dion, instead of admiring his magnanimous resistance to such touching appeals. It was precisely the magnanimity required for the situation, which made them mistrustful. Who could assure them that such a feeling, to the requisite pitch, was to be found in the bosom of Dion? or who could foretel which, among painfully conflicting sentiments, would determine his conduct? The position of Dion forbade the possibility of his obtaining full confidence. Moreover his enemies, not content with inflaming the real causes of mistrust, fabricated gross falsehoods against him as well as against the mercenaries under his command. A Syracusan named Sôsis, brother to one of the guards of Dionysius, made a violent speech in the Syracusan assembly, warning his countrymen to beware of Dion, lest they should find themselves saddled with a strict and sober despot in place of one who was always intoxicated. On the next day Sôsis appeared in the Assembly with a wound on the head, which he said that some of the soldiers of Dion had inflicted upon him in revenge for his speech. Many persons present, believing the story, warmly espoused his cause; while Dion had great difficulty in repelling the allegation, and in obtaining time for the investigation of its truth. On inquiry, it was discovered that the wound was a superficial cut inflicted by Sôsis himself with a razor, and that the whole tale was an infamous calumny which he had been bribed to propagate.[224] In this particular instance, it was found practicable to convict the delinquent of shameless falsehood. But there were numerous other attacks and perversions less tangible, generated by the same hostile interests and tending towards the same end. Every day the suspicion and unfriendly sentiment of the Syracusans, towards Dion and his soldiers, became more imbittered.

The naval victory gained by Herakleides and the Syracusan fleet over Philistus, exalting both the spirit of the Syracusans and the glory of the admiral, still further lowered the influence of Dion. The belief gained ground that even without him and his soldiers, the Syracusans could defend themselves, and gain possession of Ortygia. It was now that the defeated Dionysius sent from thence a fresh embassy to Dion, offering to surrender to him the place with its garrison, magazine of arms, and treasure equivalent to five months’ full pay—on condition of being allowed to retire to Italy, and enjoy the revenues of a large and productive portion (called Gyarta) of the Syracusan territory. Dion again refused to reply, desiring him to address the Syracusan public yet advising them to accept the terms.[225] Under the existing mistrust towards Dion, this advice was interpreted as concealing an intended collusion between him and Dionysius. Herakleides promised, that if the war were prosecuted, he would keep Ortygia blocked up until it was surrendered at discretion with all in it as prisoners. But in spite of his promise, Dionysius contrived to elude his vigilance and sail off to Lokri in Italy, with many companions and much property, leaving Ortygia in command of his eldest son Apollokrates.

Though the blockade was immediately resumed and rendered stricter than before, yet this escape of the despot brought considerable discredit on Herakleides. Probably the Dionian partisans were not sparing in their reproach. To create for himself fresh popularity, Herakleides warmly espoused the proposition of a citizen named Hippo, for a fresh division of landed property; a proposition, which, considering the sweeping alteration of landed property made by the Dionysian dynasty, we may well conceive to have been recommended upon specious grounds of retributive justice, as well as upon the necessity of providing for poor citizens. Dion opposed the motion strenuously, but was outvoted. Other suggestions also, yet more repugnant to him, and even pointed directly against him, were adopted. Lastly, Herakleides, enlarging upon his insupportable arrogance, prevailed upon the people to decree that new generals should be appointed, and that the pay due to the Dionian soldiers, now forming a large arrear, should not be liquidated out of the public purse.[226]

It was towards midsummer that Dion was thus divested of his command, about nine months after his arrival at Syracuse.[227] Twenty-five new generals were named, of whom Herakleides was one.

The measure, scandalously ungrateful and unjust, whereby the soldiers were deprived of the pay due to them, was dictated by pure antipathy against Dion: for it does not seem to have been applied to those soldiers who had come with Herakleides; moreover the new generals sent private messages to the Dionian soldiers, inviting them to desert their leader and join the Syracusans, in which case the grant of citizenship was promised to them.[228] Had the soldiers complied, it is obvious, that either the pay due, or some equivalent, must have been assigned to satisfy them. But one and all of them scorned the invitation, adhering to Dion with unshaken fidelity. The purpose of Herakleides was, to expel him alone. This however was prevented by the temper of the soldiers; who, indignant at the treacherous ingratitude of the Syracusans, instigated Dion to take a legitimate revenge upon them, and demanded only to be led to the assault. Refusing to employ force, Dion calmed their excitement, and put himself at their head to conduct them out of the city; not without remonstrances addressed to the generals and the people of Syracuse upon their proceedings, imprudent as well as wicked, while the enemy were still masters of Ortygia. Nevertheless, the new generals, chosen as the most violent enemies of Dion, not only turned a deaf ear to his appeal, but inflamed the antipathies of the people, and spurred them on to attack the soldiers on their march out of Syracuse. Their attack, though repeated more than once, was vigorously repulsed by the soldiers—excellent troops, three thousand in number; while Dion, anxious to ensure their safety, and to avoid bloodshed on both sides, confined himself strictly to the defensive. He forbade all pursuit, giving up the prisoners without ransom as well as the bodies of the slain for burial.[229]

In this guise Dion arrived at Leontini, where he found the warmest sympathy towards himself, with indignant disgust at the behavior of the Syracusans. Allied with the newly-enfranchised Syracuse against the Dionysian dynasty, the Leontines not only received the soldiers of Dion into their citizenship, and voted to them a positive remuneration, but sent an embassy to Syracuse insisting that justice should be done to them. The Syracusans, on their side, sent envoys to Leontini, to accuse Dion before an assembly of all the allies there convoked. Who these allies were, our defective information does not enable us to say. Their sentence went in favor of Dion and against the Syracusans; who nevertheless stood out obstinately, refusing all justice or reparation,[230] and fancying themselves competent to reduce Ortygia without Dion’s assistance—since the provisions therein were exhausted, and the garrison was already suffering from famine. Despairing of reinforcement, Apollokrates had already resolved to send envoys and propose a capitulation, when Nypsius, a Neapolitan officer, despatched by Dionysius from Lokri, had the good fortune to reach Ortygia at the head of a reinforcing fleet, convoying numerous transports with an abundant stock of provisions. There was now no farther talk of surrender. The garrison of Ortygia was reinforced to ten thousand mercenary troops of considerable merit, and well provisioned for some time.[231]

The Syracusan admirals, either from carelessness or ill-fortune, had not been able to prevent the entry of Nypsius. But they made a sudden attack upon him while his fleet were in the harbor, and while the crews, thinking themselves safe from an enemy, were interchanging salutations or aiding to disembark the stores. This attack was well-timed and successful. Several of the triremes of Nypsius were ruined—others were towed off as prizes, while the victory, gained by Herakleides without Dion, provoked extravagant joy throughout Syracuse. In the belief that Ortygia could not longer hold out, the citizens, the soldiers, and even the generals, gave loose to mad revelry and intoxication, continued into the ensuing night. Nypsius, an able officer, watched his opportunity, and made a vigorous night-sally. His troops, issuing forth in good order, planted their scaling-ladders, mounted the blockading wall, and slew the sleeping or drunken sentinels without any resistance. Master of this important work, Nypsius employed a part of his men to pull it down, while he pushed the rest forward against the city. At daybreak the affrighted Syracusans saw themselves vigorously attacked even in their own stronghold, when neither generals nor citizens were at all prepared to resist. The troops of Nypsius first forced their way into Neapolis, which lay the nearest to the wall of Ortygia; next into Tycha, the other fortified suburb. Over these they ranged victorious, vanquishing all the detached parties of Syracusans which could be opposed to them. The streets became a scene of bloodshed—the houses of plunder; for as Dionysius had now given up the idea of again permanently ruling at Syracuse, his troops thought of little else except satiating the revenge of their master and their own rapacity. The soldiers of Nypsius stripped the private dwellings in the town, taking away not only the property, but also the women and children, as booty into Ortygia. At last (it appears) they got also into Achradina, the largest and most populous portion of Syracuse. Here the same scene of pillage, destruction, and bloodshed, was continued throughout the whole day, and on a still larger scale; with just enough resistance to pique the fury of the victors, without restraining their progress.

It soon became evident to Herakleides and his colleagues, as well as to the general body of citizens, that there was no hope of safety except in invoking the aid of Dion and his soldiers from Leontini. Yet the appeal to one whom they not only hated and feared, but had ignominiously maltreated, was something so intolerable, that for a long time no one would speak out to propose what every man had in his mind. At length some of the allies present, less concerned in the political parties of the city, ventured to broach the proposition, which ran from man to man, and was adopted under a press of mingled and opposite emotions. Accordingly two officers of the allies, and five Syracusan horsemen set off at full speed to Leontini, to implore the instant presence of Dion. Reaching the place towards evening, they encountered Dion himself immediately on dismounting, and described to him the miserable scenes now going on at Syracuse. Their tears and distress brought around them a crowd of hearers, Leontines as well as Peloponnesians; and a general assembly was speedily convened, before which Dion exhorted them to tell their story. They described, in the tone of men whose all was at stake, the actual sufferings and the impending total ruin of the city; entreating oblivion for their past misdeeds, which were already but too cruelly expiated.

Their discourse, profoundly touching to the audience, was heard in silence. Every one waited for Dion to begin, and to determine the fate of Syracuse. He rose to speak; but for a time tears checked his utterance, while his soldiers around cheered him with encouraging sympathy. At length he found voice to say, “I have convened you, Peloponnesians and allies, to deliberate about your own conduct. For me, deliberation would be a disgrace, while Syracuse is in the hands of the destroyer. If I cannot save my country, I shall go and bury myself in its flaming ruins. For you, if, in spite of what has happened, you still choose to assist us, misguided and unhappy Syracusans, we shall owe it to you that we still continue a city. But if, in disdainful sense of wrong endured, you shall leave us to our fate, I here thank you for all your past valor and attachment to me, praying that the gods may reward you for it. Remember Dion, as one who neither deserted you when you were wronged, nor his own fellow-citizens when they were in misery.”

This address, so replete with pathos and dignity, went home to the hearts of the audience, filling them with passionate emotion and eagerness to follow him. Universal shouts called upon him to put himself at their head instantly and march to Syracuse; while the envoys present fell upon his neck, invoking blessings both upon him and upon the soldiers. As soon as the excitement had subsided, Dion gave orders that every man should take his evening meal forthwith, and return in arms to the spot, prepared for a night-march to Syracuse.

By daybreak, Dion and his band were within a few miles of the northern wall of Epipolæ. Messengers from Syracuse here met him, inducing him to slacken his march and proceed with caution. Herakleides and the other generals had sent a message forbidding his nearer approach, with notice that the gates would be closed against him; yet at the same time, counter-messages arrived from many eminent citizens, entreating him to persevere, and promising him both admittance and support. Nypsius, having permitted his troops to pillage and destroy in Syracuse throughout the preceding day, had thought it prudent to withdraw them back into Ortygia for the night. His retreat raised the courage of Herakleides and his colleagues; who, fancying that the attack was now over, repented of the invitation which they had permitted to be sent to Dion. Under this impression they despatched to him the second message of exclusion; keeping guard at the gate in the northern wall to make their threat good. But the events of the next morning speedily undeceived them. Nypsius renewed his attack with greater ferocity than before, completed the demolition of the wall of blockade before Ortygia, and let loose his soldiers with merciless hand throughout all the streets of Syracuse. There was on this day less of pillage, but more of wholesale slaughter. Men, women, and children perished indiscriminately, and nothing was thought of by these barbarians except to make Syracuse a heap of ruins and dead bodies. To accelerate the process, and to forestall Dion’s arrival, which they fully expected—they set fire to the city in several places, with torches and fire-bearing arrows. The miserable inhabitants knew not where to flee, to escape the flames within their houses, or the sword without. The streets were strewed with corpses, while the fire gained ground perpetually, threatening to spread over the greater part of the city. Under such terrible circumstances, neither Herakleides, himself wounded, nor the other generals, could hold out any longer against the admission of Dion; to whom even the brother and uncle of Herakleides were sent, with pressing entreaties to accelerate his march, since the smallest delay would occasion ruin to Syracuse.[232]

Dion was about seven miles from the gates when these last cries of distress reached him. Immediately hurrying forward his soldiers, whose ardor was not inferior to his own, at a running pace, he reached speedily the gates called Hexapyla, in the northern wall of Epipolæ. When once within these gates, he halted in an interior area called the Hekatompedon.[233] His light-armed were sent forward at once to arrest the destroying enemy, while he kept back the hoplites until he could form them into separate columns under proper captains, along with the citizens who crowded round him with demonstrations of great reverence. He distributed them so as to enter the interior portion of Syracuse, and attack the troops of Nypsius, on several points at once.[234] Being now within the exterior fortification formed by the wall of Epipolæ, there lay before him the tripartite interior city—Tycha, Neapolis, Achradina. Each of these parts had its separate fortification; between Tycha and Neapolis lay an unfortified space, but each of them joined on to Achradina, the western wall of which formed their eastern wall. It is probable that these interior fortifications had been partially neglected since the construction of the outer walls along Epipolæ, which comprised them all within, and formed the principal defence against a foreign enemy. Moreover the troops of Nypsius, having been masters of the three towns, and roving as destroyers around them, for several hours, had doubtless broken down the gates and in other ways weakened the defences. The scene was frightful, and the ways everywhere impeded by flame and smoke, by falling houses and fragments, and by the numbers who lay massacred around. It was amidst such horrors that Dion and his soldiers found themselves—while penetrating in different divisions at once into Neapolis, Tycha, and Achradina.

His task would probably have been difficult, had Nypsius been able to control the troops under his command, in themselves brave and good. But these troops had been for some hours dispersed throughout the streets, satiating their licentious and murderous passions, and destroying a town which Dionysius now no longer expected to retain. Recalling as many soldiers as he could from this brutal disorder, Nypsius marshalled them along the interior fortification, occupying the entrances and exposed points where Dion would seek to penetrate into the city.[235] The battle was thus not continuous, but fought between detached parties at separate openings, often very narrow, and on ground sometimes difficult to surmount, amidst the conflagration blazing everywhere around.[236] Disorganized by pillage, the troops of Nypsius could oppose no long resistance to the forward advance of Dion, with soldiers full of ardor and with the Syracusans around him stimulated by despair. Nypsius was overpowered, compelled to abandon his line of defence, and to retreat with his troops into Ortygia, which the greater number of them reached in safety. Dion and his victorious troops, after having forced the entrance into the city, did not attempt to pursue them. The first and most pressing necessity was to extinguish the flames; but no inconsiderable number of the soldiers of Nypsius were found dispersed through the streets and houses, and slain while actually carrying off plunder on their shoulders. Long after the town was cleared of enemies, however, all hands within it were employed in stopping the conflagration; a task in which they hardly succeeded, even by unremitting efforts throughout the day and the following night.[237]

On the morrow Syracuse was another city; disfigured by the desolating trace of flame and of the hostile soldiery, yet still refreshed in the hearts of its citizens, who felt that they had escaped much worse; and above all, penetrated by a renewed political spirit, and a deep sense of repentant gratitude towards Dion. All those generals, who had been chosen at the last election from their intense opposition to him, fled forthwith; except Herakleides and Theodotes. These two men were his most violent and dangerous enemies; yet it appears that they knew his character better than their colleagues, and therefore did not hesitate to throw themselves upon his mercy. They surrendered, confessed their guilt, and implored his forgiveness. His magnanimity (they said) would derive a new lustre, if he now rose superior to his just resentment over misguided rivals, who stood before him humbled and ashamed of their former opposition, entreating him to deal with them better than they had dealt with him.

If Dion had put their request to the vote, it would have been refused by a large majority. His soldiers, recently defrauded of their pay, were yet burning with indignation against the authors of such an injustice. His friends, reminding him of the bitter and unscrupulous attacks which he as well as they had experienced from Herakleides, exhorted him to purge the city of one who abused the popular forms to purposes hardly less mischievous than despotism itself. The life of Herakleides now hung upon a thread. Without pronouncing any decided opinion, Dion had only to maintain an equivocal silence, and suffer the popular sentiment to manifest itself in a verdict invoked by one party, expected even by the opposite. The more was every one astonished when he took upon himself the responsibility of pardoning Herakleides; adding, by way of explanation and satisfaction[238] to his disappointed friends—

“Other generals have gone through most of their training with a view to arms and war. My long training in the Academy has been devoted to aid me in conquering anger, envy, and all malignant jealousies. To show that I have profited by such lessons, it is not enough that I do my duty towards my friends and towards honest men. The true test is, if, after being wronged, I show myself placable and gentle towards the wrong-doer. My wish is to prove myself superior to Herakleides more in goodness and justice, than in power and intelligence. Successes in war, even when achieved single-handed, are half owing to fortune. If Herakleides has been treacherous and wicked through envy, it is not for Dion to dishonor a virtuous life in obedience to angry sentiment. Nor is human wickedness, great as it often is, ever pushed to such an excess of stubborn brutality, as not to be amended by gentle and gracious treatment, from steady benefactors.”[239]

We may reasonably accept this as something near the genuine speech of Dion, reported by his companion Timonides, and thus passing into the biography of Plutarch. It lends a peculiar interest, as an exposition of motives, to the act which it accompanies. The sincerity of the exposition admits of no doubt, for all the ordinary motives of the case counselled an opposite conduct; and had Dion been in like manner at the feet of his rival, his life would assuredly not have been spared. He took pride (with a sentiment something like that of Kallikratidas[240] on liberating the prisoners taken at Methymna) in realizing by conspicuous act the lofty morality which he had imbibed from the Academy; the rather, as the case presented every temptation to depart from it Persuading himself that he could by an illustrious example put to shame and soften the mutual cruelties so frequent in Grecian party-warfare, and regarding the amnesty towards Herakleides as a proper sequel to the generous impulse which had led him to march from Leontini to Syracuse,—he probably gloried in both, more than in the victory itself. We shall presently have the pain of discovering that his anticipations were totally disappointed. And we may be sure that at the time, the judgment passed on his proceeding towards Herakleides was very different from what it now receives. Among his friends and soldiers, the generosity of the act would be forgotten in its imprudence. Among his enemies, it would excite surprise, perhaps admiration—yet few of them would be conciliated or converted into friends. In the bosom of Herakleides himself, the mere fact of owing his life to Dion would be a new and intolerable humiliation, which the Erinnys within would goad him on to avenge. Dion would be warned, by the criticism of his friends, as well as by the instinct of his soldiers, that in yielding to a magnanimous sentiment, he overlooked the reasonable consequences; and that Herakleides continuing at Syracuse would only be more dangerous both to him and them, than he had been before. Without taking his life, Dion might have required him to depart from Syracuse; which sentence, having regard to the practice of the time, would have been accounted generosity.

It was Dion’s next business to renew the wall of blockade constructed against Ortygia, and partially destroyed in the late sally of Nypsius. Every Syracusan citizen was directed to cut a stake, and deposit it near the spot; after which, during the ensuing night, the soldiers planted a stockade so as to restore the broken parts of the line. Protection being thus ensured to the city against Nypsius and his garrison, Dion proceeded to bury the numerous dead who had been slain in the sally, and to ransom the captives, no less than two thousand in number, who had been carried off into Ortygia.[241] A trophy, with sacrifice to the gods for the victory, was not forgotten.[242]

A public assembly was now held to elect new generals in place of those who had fled. Here a motion was made by Herakleides himself, that Dion should be chosen general with full powers both by land and sea. The motion was received with great favor by the principal citizens; but the poorer men were attached to Herakleides, especially the seamen; who preferred serving under his command, and loudly required that he should be named admiral, along with Dion as general on land. Forced to acquiesce in this nomination, Dion contented himself with insisting and obtaining, that the resolution, which had been previously adopted for redistributing lands and houses, should be rescinded.[243]

The position of affairs at Syracuse was now pregnant with mischief and quarrel. On land, Dion enjoyed a dictatorial authority;—at sea, Herakleides, his enemy not less than ever, was admiral, by separate and independent nomination. The undefined authority of Dion—exercised by one self-willed, though magnanimous, in spirit, and extremely repulsive in manner—was sure to become odious after the feelings arising out of the recent rescue had worn off; and abundant opening would thus be made for the opposition of Herakleides, often on just grounds. That officer indeed was little disposed to wait for just pretences. Conducting the Syracusan fleet to Messênê in order to carry on war against Dionysius at Lokri, he not only tried to raise the seamen in arms against Dion, by charging him with despotic designs, but even entered into a secret treaty with the common enemy Dionysius; through the intervention of the Spartan Pharax, who commanded the Dionysian troops. His intrigues being discovered, a violent opposition was raised against them by the leading Syracusan citizens. It would seem (as far as we can make out from the scanty information of Plutarch) that the military operations were frustrated, and that the armament was forced to return to Syracuse. Here again the quarrel was renewed—the seamen apparently standing with Herakleides, the principal citizens with Dion—and carried so far, that the city suffered not only from disturbance, but even from irregular supply of provisions.[244] Among the mortifications of Dion, not the least was that which he experienced from his own friends or soldiers, who reminded him of their warnings and predictions when he consented to spare Herakleides. Meanwhile Dionysius had sent into Sicily a body of troops under Pharax, who were encamped at Neapolis in the Agrigentine territory. In what scheme of operations this movement forms a part, we cannot make out; for Plutarch tells us nothing except what bears immediately on the quarrel between Dion and Herakleides. To attack Pharax, the forces of Syracuse were brought out; the fleet under Herakleides, the soldiers on land under Dion. The latter, though he thought it imprudent to fight, was constrained to hazard a battle by the insinuations of Herakleides and the clamor of the seamen; who accused him of intentionally eking out the war for the purpose of prolonging his own dictatorship. Dion accordingly attacked Pharax, but was repulsed. Yet the repulse was not a serious defeat, so that he was preparing to renew the attack, when he was apprised that Herakleides with the fleet had departed and were returning at their best speed to Syracuse; with the intention of seizing the city, and barring out Dion with his troops. Nothing but a rapid and decisive movement could defeat this scheme. Leaving the camp immediately with his best horsemen, Dion rode back to Syracuse as fast as possible; completing a distance of seven hundred stadia (about eighty-two miles) in a very short time, and forestalling the arrival of Herakleides.[245]

Thus disappointed and exposed, Herakleides found means to direct another manœuvre against Dion, through the medium of a Spartan named Gæsylus; who had been sent by the Spartans, informed of the dissensions in Syracuse, to offer himself (like Gylippus) for the command. Herakleides eagerly took advantage of the arrival of this officer; pressing the Syracusans to accept a Spartan as their commander-in-chief. But Dion replied that there were plenty of native Syracusans qualified for command; moreover, if a Spartan was required, he was himself a Spartan, by public grant. Gæsylus, having ascertained the state of affairs, had the virtue and prudence not merely to desist from his own pretensions, but also to employ his best efforts in reconciling Dion and Herakleides. Sensible that the wrong had been on the side of the latter, Gæsylus constrained him to bind himself by the strongest oaths to better conduct in future. He engaged his own guarantee for the observance of the covenant; but the better to ensure such observance, the greater part of the Syracusan fleet (the chief instrument of Herakleides) was disbanded, leaving only enough to keep Ortygia under blockade.[246]

The capture of that islet and fortress, now more strictly watched than ever, was approaching. What had become of Pharax, or why he did not advance, after the retreat of Dion, to harass the Syracusans and succor Ortygia—we know not. But no succor arrived; provisions grew scarce; and the garrison became so discontented, that Apollokrates the son of Dionysius could not hold out any longer. Accordingly, he capitulated with Dion; handing over to him Ortygia with its fort, arms, magazines and everything contained in it—except what he could carry away in five triremes. Aboard of these vessels, he placed his mother, his sisters, his immediate friends, and his chief valuables, leaving everything else behind for Dion and the Syracusans, who crowded to the beach in multitudes to see him depart. To them the moment was one of lively joy, and mutual self-congratulation—promising to commence a new era of freedom.[247]

On entering Ortygia, Dion saw for the first time after a separation of about twelve years, his sister Aristomachê, his wife Aretê, and family. The interview was one of the tenderest emotion and tears of delight to all. Aretê, having been made against her own consent the wife of Timokratês, was at first afraid to approach Dion. But he received and embraced her with unabated affection.[248] He conducted both her and his son away from the Dionysian acropolis, in which they had been living since his absence, into his own house; having himself resolved not to dwell in the acropolis, but to leave it as a public fort or edifice belonging to Syracuse. However, this renewal of his domestic happiness was shortly afterwards imbittered by the death of his son; who having imbibed from Dionysius drunken and dissolute habits, fell from the roof of the house, in a fit of intoxication or frenzy, and perished.[249]

Dion was now at the pinnacle of power as well as of glory. With means altogether disproportionate, he had achieved the expulsion of the greatest despot in Greece, even from an impregnable stronghold. He had combated danger and difficulty with conspicuous resolution, and had displayed almost chivalrous magnanimity. Had he “breathed out his soul”[250] at the instant of triumphant entry in Ortygia, the Academy would have been glorified by a pupil of first-rate and unsullied merit. But that cup of prosperity, which poisoned so many other eminent Greeks, had now the fatal effect of exaggerating all the worst of Dion’s qualities, and damping all the best.

Plutarch indeed boasts, and we may perfectly believe, that he maintained the simplicity of his table, his raiment, and his habits of life, completely unchanged—now that he had become master of Syracuse, and an object of admiration to all Greece. In this respect, Plato and the Academy had reason to be proud of their pupil.[251] But the public mistakes, now to be recounted, were not the less mischievous to his countrymen as well as to himself.

From the first moment of his entry into Syracuse from Peloponnesus, Dion had been suspected and accused of aiming at the expulsion of Dionysius, only in order to transfer the despotism to himself. His haughty and repulsive manners, raising against him personal antipathies everywhere, were cited as confirming the charge. Even at moments when Dion was laboring for the genuine good of the Syracusans, this suspicion had always more or less crossed his path; robbing him of well-merited gratitude—and at the same time discrediting his opponents, and the people of Syracuse, as guilty of mean jealousy towards a benefactor.

The time had now come when Dion was obliged to act in such a manner as either to confirm, or to belie, such unfavorable auguries. Unfortunately both his words and his deeds confirmed them in the strongest manner. The proud and repulsive external demeanor, for which he had always been notorious, was rather aggravated than softened. He took pride in showing, more plainly than ever, that he despised everything which looked like courting popularity.[252]

If the words and manner of Dion were thus significant, both what he did, and what he left undone, was more significant still. Of that great boon of freedom, which he had so loudly promised to the Syracusans, and which he had directed his herald to proclaim on first entering their walls, he conferred absolutely nothing. He retained his dictatorial power unabated, and his military force certainly without reduction, if not actually reinforced; for as Apollokrates did not convey away with him the soldiers in Ortygia, we may reasonably presume that a part of them at least remained to embrace the service of Dion. He preserved the acropolis and fortifications of Ortygia just as they were, only garrisoned by troops obeying his command instead of that of Dionysius. His victory made itself felt in abundant presents to his own friends and soldiers;[253] but to the people of Syracuse, it produced nothing better than a change of masters.

It was not indeed the plan of Dion to constitute a permanent despotism. He intended to establish himself king, but to grant to the Syracusans what in modern times would be called a constitution. Having imbibed from Plato and the Academy as well as from his own convictions and tastes, aversion to a pure democracy, he had resolved to introduce a Lacedæmonian scheme of mixed government, combining king, aristocracy, and people, under certain provisions and limitations. Of this general tenor are the recommendations addressed both to him, and to the Syracusans after his death, by Plato; who however seems to contemplate, along with the political scheme, a Lykurgean reform of manners and practice. To aid in framing and realizing his scheme, Dion sent to Corinth to invite counsellors and auxiliaries; for Corinth was suitable to his views, not simply as mother city of Syracuse, but also as a city thoroughly oligarchical.[254]

That these intentions on the part of Dion were sincere, we need not question. They had been originally conceived without any views of acquiring the first place for himself, during the life of the elder Dionysius, and were substantially the same as those which he had exhorted the younger Dionysius to realize, immediately after the death of the father. They are the same as he had intended to further by calling in Plato,—with what success, has been already recounted. But Dion made the fatal mistake of not remarking, that the state of things, both as to himself and as to Syracuse, was totally altered during the interval between 367 B. C. and 354 B. C. If at the former period, when the Dionysian dynasty was at the zenith of power, and Syracuse completely prostrated, the younger Dionysius could have been persuaded spontaneously and without contest or constraint to merge his own despotism in a more liberal system, even dictated by himself—it is certain that such a free, though moderate concession, would at first have provoked unbounded gratitude, and would have had a chance (though that is more doubtful) of giving long-continued satisfaction. But the situation was totally different in 354 B. C., when Dion, after the expulsion of Apollokrates, had become master in Ortygia; and it was his mistake that he still insisted on applying the old plans when they had become not merely unsuitable, but mischievous. Dion was not in the position of an established despot, who consents to renounce, for the public good, powers which every one knows he can retain, if he chooses; nor were the Syracusans any longer passive, prostrate, and hopeless. They had received a solemn promise of liberty, and had been thereby inflamed into vehement action, by Dion himself; who had been armed by them with delegated powers, for the special purpose of putting down Dionysius. That under these circumstances Dion, instead of laying down his trust, should constitute himself king—even limited king—and determine how much liberty he would consent to allot to the Syracusans who had appointed him—this was a proceeding which they could not but resent as a flagrant usurpation, and which he could only hope to maintain by force.

The real conduct of Dion, however, was worse even than this. He manifested no visible evidence of realizing even that fraction of popular liberty which had entered into his original scheme. What exact promises he made, we do not know. But he maintained his own power, the military force, and the despotic fortifications, provisionally undiminished. And who could tell how long he intended to maintain them? That he really had in his mind purposes such as Plato[255] gives him credit for, I believe to be true. But he took no practical step towards them. He had resolved to accomplish them, not through persuasion of the Syracusans, but through his own power. This was the excuse which he probably made to himself, and which pushed him down that inclined plane from whence there was afterwards no escape.

It was not likely that Dion’s conduct would pass without a protest. That protest came loudest from Herakleides; who, so long as Dion had been acting in the real service of Syracuse, had opposed him in a culpable and traitorous manner—and who now again found himself in opposition to Dion, when opposition had become the side of patriotism as well as of danger. Invited by Dion to attend the council, he declined, saying that he was now nothing more than a private citizen, and would attend the public assembly along with the rest; a hint which implied, plainly as well as reasonably, that Dion also ought to lay down his power, now that the common enemy was put down.[256] The surrender of Ortygia had produced strong excitement among the Syracusans. They were impatient to demolish the dangerous stronghold erected in that islet by the elder Dionysius; they both hoped and expected, moreover, to see the destruction of that splendid funeral monument which his son had built in his honor, and the urn with its ashes cast out. Now of these two measures, the first was one of pressing and undeniable necessity, which Dion ought to have consummated without a moment’s delay; the second was compliance with a popular antipathy at that time natural, which would have served as an evidence that the old despotism stood condemned. Yet Dion did neither. It was Herakleides who censured him, and moved for the demolition of the Dionysian Bastile; thus having the glory of attaching his name to the measure eagerly performed by Timoleon eleven years afterwards, the moment that he found himself master of Syracuse. Not only Dion did not originate the overthrow of this dangerous stronghold, but when Herakleides proposed it, he resisted him and prevented it from being done.[257] We shall find the same den serving for successive despots—preserved by Dion for them as well as for himself, and only removed by the real liberator Timoleon.