The Rescue Of Thebes
On a certain cold and wet evening, in the month of December of the year
379 B.C., seven men, dressed as rustics or hunters, and to all
appearance unarmed, though each man had a dagger concealed beneath his
clothes, appeared at the gate of Thebes, the principal city of the
Boeotian confederacy. They had come that day from Athens, making their
way afoot across Mount Cithaeron, which lay between. It was now just
nightfall
and most of the farmers had come into the city from the
fields, but some late ones were still returning. Mingling with these,
the seven strangers entered the gates, unnoticed by the guards, and were
quickly lost to sight in the city streets. Quietly as they had come, the
noise of their coming was soon to resound throughout Greece, for the
arrival of those seven men was the first step in a revolution that was
destined to overturn all the existing conditions of Grecian states.
We should like to go straight on with their story; but to make it clear
to our readers we must go back and offer a short extract from earlier
history. Hitherto the history of Greece had been largely the history of
two cities, Athens and Sparta. The other cities had all played second or
third parts to these great and proud municipalities. But now a third
city, Thebes, was about to come forward, and assume a leading place in
the history of Greece. And of the two men who were to guide it in this
proud career, one was among the seven who entered the gates of the city
in rustic garb that rainy December night.
Of the earlier history of Thebes little need be said. It played its part
in the legendary story of Greece, as may be seen in our story of the
"Seven against Thebes." During the Persian invasion Thebes proved false
to its country, assisted the invaders, and after their repulse was
punished for its treasonable acts. Later on it came again into prominent
notice. During the Peloponnesian war it was a strong ally of Sparta.
Another city, only six miles away, Plataea, was as strong an ally of
Athens. And the inhabitants of these two cities hated each other with
the bitterest animosity. It is a striking example of the isolated
character of Greek communities, and one that it is difficult to
understand in modern times, that two cities of one small state, so near
together that an easy two hours' walk would take a traveller from the
gates of one to those of the other, could be the bitterest of enemies,
sworn allies of two hostile states, and the inhabitants ready to cut
each other's throats at any opportunity. Certainly the sentiment of
human brotherhood has vastly widened since then. There are no two cities
in the civilized world to-day that feel to each other as did Plataea and
Thebes, only six miles apart, in that famous era of Grecian
enlightenment.
We have told how Plataea was taken and destroyed, and its defenders
murdered, by a Spartan army. But it is well to say here that Thebans
formed the most fiercely hostile part of that army, and that it was the
Thebans who demanded and obtained the murder in cold blood of the
hapless prisoners.
And now we pass on to a date less than fifty years later to find a
remarkable change in the state of affairs. Athens has fallen from her
high estate. Sparta is now the lord and master of the Grecian world. And
a harsh master has she proved, with her controlling agents in every
city, her voice the arbiter in all political concerns.
Thebes is now the friend of Athens and the foe of Sparta, the chief
among those cities which oppose the new order of things. Yet Thebes in
379 B.C. lies hard and fast within the Spartan clutch. How she got there
is now for us to tell.
It was an act of treason, some three years before, that handed this city
over to the tender mercies of her old ally, her present foe. There was a
party in Thebes favorable to Sparta, at whose head was a man named
Leontiades. And at this time Sparta was at war with Olynthus, a city far
to the north. One Spartan army had marched to Olynthus. Another, led by
a general named Phoebidas, was on its march thither, and had halted
for a period of rest near the gymnasium, a short distance outside the
walls of Thebes. There is good reason to believe that Phoebidas well
knew what Leontiades designed, and was quite ready to play his part in
the treacherous scheme.
It was the day of the Thesmophoria, a religious festival celebrated by
women only, no men being admitted. The Cadmeia, or citadel, had been
given to their use, and was now occupied by women alone. It was a warm
summer's day. The heat of noon had driven the people from the streets.
The Senate of the city was in session in the portico of the agora, or
forum, but their deliberations were drowsily conducted and the whole
city seemed taking a noontide siesta.
Phoebidas chose this warm noontide to put his army in march again,
rounding the walls of Thebes. As the van passed the gates Leontiades,
who had stolen away from the Senate and hastened on horseback through
the deserted streets, rode up to the Spartan commander, and bade him
turn and march inward through the gate which lay invitingly open before
him. Through the deserted streets Phoebidas and his men rapidly made
their way, following the traitor Theban, to the gates of the Cadmeia,
which, like those of the town, were thrown open to his order as
polemarch, or war governor; and the Spartans, pouring in, soon were
masters not only of the citadel, but of the wives and daughters of the
leading Theban citizens as well.
The news got abroad only when it was too late to remedy the treacherous
act. The Senate heard with consternation that their acropolis was in the
hands of their enemies, their wives captives, their city at the mercy of
the foe. Leontiades returned to his seat and at once gave orders for the
arrest of his chief opponent Ismenias. He had a party armed and ready.
The Senate was helpless. Ismenias was seized and conveyed to Sparta,
where he was basely put to death. The other senators hurried home, glad
to escape with their lives. Three hundred of them left the city in
haste, and made their way as exiles to Athens. The other citizens, whose
wives and daughters were in Spartan hands, felt obliged to submit.
"Order reigned" in Thebes; such was the message which Leontiades bore to
Sparta.
Thus it was that Sparta gained possession of one of her greatest
opponents. Leontiades and his fellows, backed by a Spartan general,
ruled the city harshly. The rich were robbed, the prisons were filled,
many more citizens fled into exile. Thebes was in the condition of a
conquered city; the people, helpless and indignant, waited impatiently
the slow revolution of the wheel of destiny which should once more set
them free.
As for the exiles at Athens, they sought in vain to obtain Athenian aid
to recover their city from the foe. Athens was by no means in love with
Sparta, but peace had been declared, and all they could agree to do was
to give the fugitives a place of refuge. Evidently the city, which had
been won by treason, was not to be recovered by open war. If set free at
all it must be by secret measures. And with this intent a conspiracy was
formed between the leaders of the exiles and certain citizens of Thebes
for the overthrow of Leontiades and his colleagues and the expulsion of
the Spartan garrison from the citadel. And this it was that brought the
seven men to Thebes,--seven exiles, armed with hidden daggers, with
which they were to win a city and start a revolution which in the end
would destroy the power of Sparta the imperial.
Of the seven exiles who thus returned, under cover of night and
disguise, to their native city, the chief was Pelopidas, a rich and
patriotic Theban, who was yet to prove himself one of the great men of
Greece. Entering the gates, they proceeded quietly through the streets,
and soon found an abiding-place in the house of Charon, an earnest
patriot. This was their appointed rendezvous.
And now we have a curious incident to tell, showing on what small
accidents great events may hinge. Among the Thebans who had been let
into the secret of the conspiracy was a faint-hearted man named
Hipposthenidas. As the time for action drew near this timid fellow grew
more and more frightened, and at length took upon himself, unknown to
the rest, to stop the coming of the exiled patriots. He ordered Chlidon,
a faithful slave of one of the seven, to ride in haste from Thebes, meet
his master on the road, and bid him and his companions to go back to
Athens, as circumstances had arisen which made their coming dangerous
and their project impracticable.
Chlidon, ready to obey orders, went home for his bridle, but failed to
find it in its usual place. He asked his wife where it was. She
pretended at first to help him look for it, but at last, in a tone of
contrition, acknowledged that she had lent it, without asking him, to a
neighbor. Chlidon, in a burst of anger at the delay to his journey,
entered into a loud altercation with the woman, who grew angry on her
part and wished him ill luck on his journey. Word led to word, both
sides grew more angry and abusive, and at length he began to beat his
wife, and continued his ill treatment until her cries brought neighbors
in to separate them. But all this caused a loss of time, the bridle was
not in this way to be had, and in the end Chlidon's journey was stopped,
and the message he had been asked to bear never reached the conspirators
on their way. Accidents of this kind often frustrate the best-laid
plans. In this case the accident was providential to the conspiracy.
And now, what were these seven men to do? Four men--Leontiades, Archias,
Philippus, and Hypates--had the city under their control. But they were
supported in their tyranny by a garrison of fifteen hundred Spartans and
allies in the Cadmeia, and Lacedaemonian posts in the other cities
around. These four men were to be dealt with, and for that purpose the
seven had come. On the evening of the next day Archias and Philippus
designed to have a banquet. Phyllidas, their secretary, but secretly one
of the patriots, had been ordered to prepare the banquet for them, and
had promised to introduce into their society on that occasion some women
of remarkable beauty and of the best families in Thebes. He did not hint
to them that these women would wear beards and carry daggers under their
robes.
We have told, in a previous tale, the story of the "Seven against
Thebes." The one with which we are now concerned might be properly
entitled the "Seven for Thebes." That night and the following day the
devoted seven lay concealed. Evening came on. The hour when they were to
play their parts had nearly arrived. They were in that state of strained
expectation that brings the nerves to the surface, and started in sudden
dread when a loud knock came upon the door. They were still more
startled on hearing its purpose. A messenger had come to bid Charon
instantly to come to the presence of the two feasting polemarchs.
What did it mean? Had the plot been divulged? Had the timid
Hipposthenidas betrayed them? At any rate, there was but one thing to
do; Charon must go at once. But he, faithful soul, was most in dread
that his friends should suspect him of treachery. He therefore brought
his son, a highly promising youth of fifteen, and put him in the hands
of Pelopidas as a hostage for his fidelity.
"This is folly!" cried they all. "No one doubts you. Take the boy away.
It is enough for us to face the danger; do not seek to bring the boy
into the same peril."
Charon would not listen to their remonstrances, but insisted on leaving
the youth in their hands, and hastened away to the house of the
polemarchs. He found them at the feast, already half intoxicated. Word
had been sent them from Athens that some plot, they knew not what, was
afloat. He was known to be a friend of the exiles. He must tell them
what he knew about it.
Fortunately, the pair were too nearly drunk to be acute. Their
suspicions were very vague. Charon, aided by Phyllidas, had little
trouble in satisfying them that the report was false. Eager to get back
to their wine they dismissed him, very glad indeed to get away. Hardly
had he gone before a fresh message, and a far more dangerous one, was
brought to Archias, sent by a namesake of his at Athens. This gave a
full account of the scheme and the names of those who were to carry it
out. "It relates to a very serious matter," said the messenger who bore
it.
"Serious matters for to-morrow," cried Archias, with a drunken laugh, as
he put the unopened despatch under the pillow of his couch and took up
the wine-cup again.
"Those whom the gods mean to destroy they first make mad," says an
apposite Grecian proverb. These men were foredoomed.
"A truce to all this disturbance," cried the two polemarchs to
Phyllidas. "Where are the women whom you promised us? Let us see these
famous high-born beauties."
Phyllidas at once retired, and quickly returned with the seven
conspirators, clothed in female attire. Leaving them in an adjoining
chamber, he entered the banquet-room, and told the feasters that the
women refused to come in unless all the domestics were first dismissed.
"Let it be so," said Archias, and at the command of Phyllidas the
domestics sought the house of one of their number, where the astute
secretary had well supplied them with wine.
The two polemarchs, with one or two friends, alone remained, all half
intoxicated, and the only armed one being Cabeirichus, the archon, who
was obliged by law to keep always with him the consecrated spear of
office.
And now the supposed and eagerly expected women were brought in,--three
of them attired as ladies of distinction, the four others dressed as
attendants. Their long veils and ample robes completely disguised them,
and they sat down beside the polemarchs without a suspicion being
entertained. Not till their drunken companions lifted their veils did
the truth appear. But the lifting of the veils was the signal for quick
and deep dagger thrusts, and Archias and Philippus, with scarcely a
movement of resistance, fell dead from their seats. No harm was meant to
the others, but the drunken archon rushed on the conspirators with his
spear, and in consequence perished with his friends.
There were two more of the tyrants to deal with. Phyllidas led three of
the conspirators to the house of Leontiades, into which he was admitted
as the bearer of an order from the polemarchs. Leontiades was reclining
after supper, with his wife spinning wool by his side, when his foes
entered his chamber, dagger in hand. A bold and strong man, he instantly
sprang up, seized his sword, and with a thrust mortally wounded the
first of the three. Then a desperate struggle took place in the doorway
between him and Pelopidas, the place being too narrow for the third to
approach. In the end Pelopidas dealt him a mortal blow. Then,
threatening the wife with death if she gave the alarm, and closing the
door with stern commands that it should not be opened again, the two
patriots left the house and sought that of Hypates. He took the alarm
and fled, and was pursued to the roof, where he was killed as he was
trying to escape over the house-tops.
This work done, and no alarm yet given, the conspirators proceeded to
the prison, whose doors they ordered to be opened. The jailer hesitated,
and was slain by a spear-thrust, the patriots rushing over his body into
the prison, from whose cells the tenants were soon released. These, one
hundred and fifty in number, sufferers for their patriotic sentiments,
were quickly armed from battle-spoils kept near by, and drawn up in
battle array. And now, for the first time, did the daring conspirators
feel assurance of success.
The tidings of what had been done by this time got abroad, and ran like
wildfire through the city. Citizens poured excitedly into the streets.
Epaminondas, who was afterwards to become the great leader of the
Thebans, joined with some friends the small array of patriots.
Proclamation was made throughout the city by heralds that the despots
were slain and Thebes was free, and all Thebans who valued liberty were
bidden to muster in arms in the market-place. All the trumpeters in the
city were bidden to blow with might and main, from street to street, and
thus excite the people to take arms to secure their liberty.
While night lasted surprise and doubt continued, many of the citizens
not knowing what to do. But with day-dawn came a wild outburst of joy
and enthusiasm. Horsemen and footmen hastened in arms to the agora.
Here a formal assembly of the Theban people was convened, before whom
Pelopidas and his fellows appeared to tell what they had done. The
priests crowned them with wreaths, while the people hailed them with
joyful acclamations. With a single voice they nominated Pelopidas,
Mellon, and Charon as Boeotarchs,--a Theban title of authority which
had for a number of years been dropped.
Such was the hatred which the long oppression had aroused, that the very
women trod underfoot the slain jailer, and spat upon his corpse. In that
city, where women rarely showed themselves in public, this outburst
strongly indicated the general public rage against the overthrown
despots. Messengers hastened to Attica to carry to the exiles the glad
tidings, and soon they, with a body of Athenian volunteers, were in
joyful march for the city.
Meanwhile, the Spartans in the citadel were in a state of distraction
and alarm. All night long the flashing of lights, the blare of trumpets,
the shouts of excited patriots, the sound of hurrying feet in the city,
had disturbed their troubled souls, and when affrighted partisans of the
defeated party came hurrying for safety into the Cadmeia, with tidings
of the tragic event, they were filled with confusion and dismay.
Accustomed to look to the polemarchs for orders, the garrison did not
know whom to trust or consult. They hastily sent out messengers to
Thespiae and Plataea for aid, but the forces which came to their help from
these cities were charged upon by the Thebans and driven back with loss.
What to do the Spartan commander knew not. The citizens were swarming
in the streets, and gathering in force around the citadel. That they
intended to storm it before aid could come from Sparta was evident. In
fact, they were already rushing to the assault,--large rewards being
offered those who should first force their way in,--when a flag of truce
from the garrison stopped them in mid-career. The commander proposed to
capitulate.
All he asked was liberty to march out of Thebes with the honors of war.
This was granted him, under oath. At once the foreign garrison filed out
from the citadel and marched to one of the gates, accompanied by the
Theban refugees who had sought shelter with them. These latter had not
been granted the honors of war. Among them were some of the prominent
oppressors of the people. In a burst of ungovernable rage these were
torn from the Spartan ranks by the people and put to death; even the
children of some of them being slain. Few of the refugees would have
escaped but for the Athenians present, who generously helped to get them
safely through the gates and out of sight and reach of their infuriated
townsmen.
And thus, almost without a blow, in a night's and a morning's work, the
city of Thebes, which for several years had lain helpless in the hands
of its foes, regained its liberty. As for the Spartan harmosts, or
leaders, who had capitulated without an attempt at defence, two of them
were put to death on reaching home, the third was heavily fined and
banished. Sparta had no mercy and no room for beaten men.
Thebes was free! The news spread like an electric shock through the
Grecian world. A few men, taking a desperate risk, had in an hour
overthrown a government that seemed beyond assault. The empire of
Sparta, the day before undisputed and nearly universal over Greece, had
received a serious blow. Throughout all Greece men breathed easier,
while the spirit of patriotism suddenly flamed again. The first blow in
a coming revolution had been struck.