The Envoys Of Life And Death

Near the coast of Asia Minor lies the beautiful island of Lesbos, the

birthplace of the poets Sappho, Alcaeus, and Terpander, and of other

famous writers and sages of the past. Here were green valleys and

verdure-clad mountains, here charming rural scenes and richly-yielding

fields, here all that seems necessary to make life serene and happy. But

here also dwelt uneasy man, and hither came devastating war, bringing

wit it the shadow of a frightful tragedy from which the people of

Lesbos barely escaped.



Lesbos was one of the islands that entered into alliance with Athens,

and formed part of the empire that arose from the league of Delos. In

428 B.C. this island, and its capital, Mitylene, revolted from Athens,

and struck for the freedom they had formerly enjoyed. Mitylene had never

become tributary to Athens. It was simply an ally; and it retained its

fleet, its walls, and its government; its only obligations being those

common to all members of the League.



Yet even these seemed to have been galling to the proud Mitylenians.

Athens was then at war with Sparta. It seemed a good time to throw off

all bonds, and the political leaders of the Lesbians declared

themselves absolved from all allegiance to the league.



The news greatly disturbed the Athenians. They had their hands full of

war. But Mitylene had asked aid from Sparta, and unless brought under

subjection to Athens it would become an ally of her enemy. No time was

therefore to be lost. A fleet was sent in haste to the revolted city,

hoping to take it by surprise. This failing, the city was blockaded by

sea and land, and the siege kept up until starvation threatened the

people within the walls. Until now hope of Spartan aid had been

entertained. But the Spartans came not, the provisions were gone, death

or surrender became inevitable, and the city was given up. About a

thousand prisoners were sent to Athens, and Mitylene was held till the

pleasure of its conquerors should be known.



This pleasure was a tragic one. The Athenians were deeply incensed

against Mitylene, and full of thirst for revenge. Their anger was

increased by the violent speeches of Cleon, a new political leader who

had recently risen from among the ranks of trade, and whose virulent

tongue gave him controlling influence over the Athenians at that period

of public wrath. When the fate of Mitylene and its people was considered

by the Athenian assembly this demagogue took the lead in the discussion,

wrought the people up to the most violent passion by his acrimonious

tongue, and proposed that the whole male population of the conquered

city should be put to death, and the women and children sold as slaves.

This frightful sentence was in accord with the feeling of the assembly.

They voted death to all Mitylenians old enough to bear arms, and a

trireme was sent to Lesbos, bearing orders to the Athenian admiral to

carry this tragical decision into effect.



Slaughter like this would to-day expose its authors to the universal

execration of mankind. In those days it was not uncommon, and the

quality of mercy was sadly wanting in the human heart. Yet such cruelty

was hardly in accord with the advanced civilization of Athens, and when

the members of the assembly descended to the streets, and their anger

somewhat cooled, it began to appear to them that they had sent forth a

decree of frightful cruelty. Even the captain and seamen of the trireme

that was sent with the order to Mitylene left the port with heavy

hearts, and would have gladly welcomed a recall. But the assembly of

Athens was the ruling power and from its decision there was no appeal.



Though it was illegal, the friends of Mitylene called a fresh meeting of

the assembly for the next day. In this they were supported by the

people, whose feeling had quickly and greatly changed. Yet at this new

meeting it appeared at first as if Cleon would again win a fatal

verdict, so vigorously did he again seek to stir up the public wrath.

Diodotus, his opponent, followed with a strong appeal for mercy, and

while willing that the leaders of the revolt, who had been sent to

Athens, should be put to death, argued strongly in favor of pardoning

the rest. When at length the assembly voted, mercy prevailed, but by so

small a majority that for a time the decision was in doubt.



And now came a vital question. The trireme bearing the fatal order had

left port twenty-four hours before. It was now far at sea, carrying its

message of cold-blooded slaughter. Could it possibly be overtaken and

the message of mercy made to fly more swiftly across the sea than that

of death? As may well be imagined, no time was lost. A second trireme

was got ready with all haste, and amply provisioned by the envoys from

Mitylene then in Athens, those envoys promising large rewards to the

crew if they should arrive in time.



The offers of reward were not needed. The seamen were as eager as those

of the former trireme had been despondent. Across the sea rushed the

trireme, with such speed as trireme never made before nor since. By good

fortune the sea was calm; no storm arose to thwart the rowers' good

intent; not for an instant were their oars relaxed; they took turns for

short intervals of rest, while barley meal, steeped in wine and oil, was

served to them for refreshment upon their seats.



Yet they strove against fearful odds. A start of twenty-four hours, upon

so brief a journey, was almost fatal. Fortunately, the rowers of the

first trireme had no spirit for their work. They were as slow and

dilatory as the others were eager and persistent. And thus time moved

slowly on, and the fate of Mitylene hung desperately in the balance. An

hour more or less in this vital journey would make or mar a frightful

episode in the history of mankind.



Fortune proved to be on the side of mercy. The envoys of life were in

time; but barely in time. Those who bore the message of death had

reached port and placed their dread order in the hands of the Athenian

commander, and he was already taking steps for the fearful massacre,

when the second trireme dashed into the waters of that island harbor,

and the cheers of exultation of its rowers met the ears of the

imperilled populace.



So near was Mitylene to destruction that the breaking of an oar would

have been enough to doom six thousand men to death. So near as this was

Athens to winning the execration of mankind, by the perpetration of an

enormity which barbarians might safely have performed, but for which

Athens could never have been forgiven. The thousand prisoners sent to

Athens--the leading spirits of the revolt--were, it is true, put to

death, but this merciless cruelty, as it would be deemed to-day, has

been condoned in view of the far greater slaughter of the innocent from

which Athens so narrowly escaped.