 24 A cloud in the east. He shall stir up all the realms against Gracia, Daniel XI. While the Greeks were sailing their seas and working out their laws, untroubled by any thoughts of fear, beyond the shores of the Blue Mediterranean great kingdoms were rising and falling in the east. King Nebuchadnezzar, of whose acts the book of Daniel is so full, had restored the kingdom of Babylon beyond the Euphrates. He had made the city of Babylon the greatest city in the world. Stray Greeks had visited it and brought back stories of the amazing palaces and temples, the hanging gardens and terraced parks. With the death of King Nebuchadnezzar, the kingdom of Persia rose to fame under King Cyrus. Now the deeds of Nebuchadnezzar had not troubled Greece at all, but now that Cyrus was King of Persia things were different. Already Babylon had fallen to him and he was casting his eyes towards the Greek colonies on the shores of Asia Minor under one Croesus. A story is told of these two monarchs. Cyrus had determined to put Croesus to death, so he built a great pyre and placed Croesus on it, bound in chains. While he stood waiting for the flames to rise around him, some words uttered by Solone came into his head, and groaning aloud he cried, Oh, Solone, Solone, Solone! Cyrus heard him and asked of whom he spoke. Croesus quoted Solone's wise words, call no man happy till his death. Cyrus was greatly struck. Surely, he reflected, here is a man worth saving, and he ordered the prisoner to be set free. But already the flames were blazing with such strength and fury that the men could not put them out. Then Croesus cried to one of the Greek gods for help, and the story says, suddenly clouds came into the clear sky and a downpour of rain put out the roaring fire. So Croesus lived and became the friend and advisor of the King of Persia. Under Cambyses, the son of Cyrus, Persia became yet more powerful, for he conquered Egypt from the pharaohs, and as we have already seen, would have taken Carthage if the Phoenician sailors had helped him. But it was the third great King of Persia, Darius, that the Greeks feared the most, and they had good reason to fear. For was he not King of the mightiest kingdom of the east? Had not the Persians already subdued the sea coast on the farther shores of the Archipelago, was not the land of Egypt that rich in fertile land theirs too? Was it likely that Darius would be content with what he had when he could command the soldiers of so many lands? No sooner had he set his kingdom in order at home than he started forth on his conquests. Now when Darius made up his mind to go into Europe, his shortest way would have been to cross the Black Sea, but this was impossible in early days. To get to Europe at all, the water must be crossed, so Darius ordered the Ionian Greeks living on the coast and in the islands off the coast to raise a fleet of six hundred ships. Then he marched to the shores of the Bosphorus, a narrow strait that divides Asia from Europe. Here a bridge of boats had been made by an engineer from one of the Greek islands belonging to Persia, and the Persian army marched over it to the shores of Europe. Darius marched the army northward till he reached the river Danu, which at this time was supposed to be the greatest river in the world. Here, according to their orders, the Greeks had already built a bridge of boats across the river. Darius now took a cord, so says the old legend, in which he tied sixty knots. Untie one of these knots every day, he said to the Greek captains, and remain here and guard the bridge till they are all untied, if I have not returned at the end of that time sail home. The sixty days passed, the knots were untied, but Darius did not return. The Greeks heard rumors that the Persians had been defeated and were in full retreat and that their only hope of safety lay in the bridge. Let us destroy the bridge, urged one of the Greeks, Meltheides, the future hero of Marathon. Then shall Darius and his army perish, and we shall regain our freedom. No, said another, by destroying Darius we destroy ourselves. His council prevailed, the Greeks kept the bridge, and Darius passed back in safety. Chapter 25 The Battle of Marathon The mountains look on Marathon and Marathon looks on the sea, Byron. Now the Ionian Greeks longed for freedom from the Persians. They liked to think they belonged to the mother country, not to these foreigners whom they had to serve. So they made another attempt to throw off the yoke of Persia, and this time the men of Athens helped them. But it was no use, for the Persians were too strong for them. Miletus was the strongest of these coast cities belonging to the Ionian Greeks. When the men of Miletus found that the whole Great Persian army was about to blockade their city, they resolved in their despair to take to their ships and surround the city themselves, and so prevent the Persians entering it. They mustered some 353 ships in all, but what was their dismay to find that the Persians had brought double that number manned by Phoenician sailors. Then arose a Greek named Dionysius, commander of the Greek ships. He promised them certain victory even over the Phoenician sailors if they would only work hard under his directions, and learn better how to manage their ships. From morning to night, through seven long summer days, the Greeks practiced under their commander for the upcoming battle. But on the eighth day they lost all patience. They were a pleasure-loving race, and not used to discipline. They had not been brought up like the Spartan boys. So they left their ships and spent the precious hours in careless ease under the shade of the trees on shore. The Persian fleet attacked, the Greeks scrambled on board. The last struggle for the freedom of Ionia was at hand. But a disgraceful scene followed. Many of the Greek ships deserted, and the result was the capture of Miletus by the Persians. They killed all the men and carried the women and children into captivity. Everywhere they carried fire and sword, and the Ionian Greeks were more than ever subject to them. Still Darius was not satisfied. He was very angry with the men of Athens for helping the Ionian Greeks against him, and he made a vow that he would punish them. It is said that he bade one of his slaves to say to him three times at dinner, Sire, remember the Athenians. It was early on one September day in the year 490 BC that a great Persian fleet sailed into the Bay of Marathon, the sea port of Athens, in order to attack the city by land and sea. From the heights above the town, the men of Athens beheld the plain crowded with Persian tents, and the bay full of Persian ships, beheld them with terror and awe. Was not this Darius, who had captured their rich seaboard cities in Asia Minor, who possessed Egypt and would feign possess the rest of the world? The very name of Persia was a terror to the Greeks. A great question was before the men of Athens. Should they await the approach of the great Persian army, or should they boldly go forth to meet them? There were five times as many Persians as Athenians, a fact which seemed to promise no chance of victory. They assembled together. Miltiades spoke. He was the man who had urged the Ionians to destroy the bridge over the Danube some years before. He now proposed that the army should march to Marathon and meet the Persians there. His decision carried the day. He had one on dying fame. The Athenians marched out of their city and encamped on the hills, overlooking the plain of Marathon, for Marathon lay between the mountains and the sea. They were alone in their desperate peril, for the Spartans could hardly arrive in time. The battle signal was given, and the whole Greek army shouting their war cry, Yo pein, yo pein, charge down the hills at a run into the plain of Marathon. Such courage deserved success. For some time Athenians and Persians fought together at Marathon. Then the Persians gave way and ran backwards toward the sea, while six thousands lay dead upon the plain. Thus Athens saved Greece from the Persians. The battle of Marathon was one of the most splendid battles that has ever been fought in one. For had Greece become subject to Darius, the great monarch of the East, the history of Europe might have been, like the history of Asia, a story of misery and oppression. And still the ships of today sailing eastwards may see the monument put up to the heroes of Marathon bearing the words of the old Greek poet, at Marathon for Greece the Athenians fought. End of Chapter 25, Recording by Tricia G. Chapter 26 of On the Shores of the Great Sea. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. On the Shores of the Great Sea by M. B. Singh. Chapter 26 King Ahasuerus. This is Ahasuerus which reigned from India even unto Ethiopia over in 107 and 20 provinces. Esther 1. When King Darius heard tidings of the defeat of his army at Marathon, he was yet more angry with the Athenians and more determined than ever to make war against Greece. But before he could get ready again to march against them, he died and his son Xerxes became king of Persia. This Xerxes was probably the same king of whom we read in the Book of Esther and the great feast that he held in his palace three years after his father's death was to arrange about carrying on the war against Greece. It was not till five years had passed away that Xerxes was ready to start for Greece with his enormous army. First of all he ordered a fleet of ships to anchor near Mount Athos for he remembered the terrible storm that had wrecked the first Persian expedition to Greece at this dangerous spot. He made the men from these ships dig a great trench wide enough for two ships of war to pass side by side so there was no more danger of shipwreck at Mount Athos. When all was ready Xerxes himself came from his palace at Shushan to review his troops and to have bridges built over the Hellas Pond. This was done by Phoenician and Egyptian engineers. But when the work was finished there arose a great storm and the bridges were destroyed. Xerxes was very angry at this accident and not only did he order the engineers to be beheaded but commanded that three hundred lashes of the whip should be inflicted on the waters of the Hellas Pond. Those who scourged the sea were ordered to address it in these words. O bitter water, our lord lays this punishment upon thee for having done him wrong, who never did wrong to thee. King Xerxes will cross thee whether thou wilt or not, thou treacherous and briny river. Then other engineers set to work and the bridges were made but they were not finished till the winter had set in. It was one day in the early spring when the sun had but just risen that the huge army began to cross the bridges leading them from Asia into Europe. The soldiers and horsemen went over one bridge while the servants of the army and beasts of burden went over the other all crossing under the lash. For this mighty Xerxes was a cruel man. There is a story told of how just before the crossing of the bridges an old man came to him and asked him a favor. O my lord, said the old man, I have five sons and thou art taking them all with thee for this war which thou makest against the Greeks. Have pity on me, O king, remembering my old age and release from this service one of my sons, even the eldest, that he may stay and take care of me. But the king was furious. The life of him whom thou lovest above the rest shall be forfeit, he cried in anger as he ordered the eldest son to be slain at once. One half of his body was to be placed on the right side of the road, the other on the left, and the army was ordered to pass between the two halves. Such a man, then, was this great Eastern king who now hoped to win Europe for himself. On the marble throne erected on the shore Xerxes watched his army which, according to old stories, took seven days and seven nights to reach the opposite shore. While the great fleet lay on the quiet blue waters under the lee of the land, the king held a great review of troops which showed him to have no less than five million of men under him, the largest number ever known in ancient or modern history. There were the Persians wearing coats of mail and trousers with their wicker shields, large bows, and short spears. There were men from Assyria with helmets of brass, wooden clubs with knots of iron, and short swords. There were Indians clad in cotton, men from the Caspian shores in goat skin, men from Ethiopia in lower Egypt in lion skins and leopard skins, armed with arrows, and many others. King Xerxes looked on his splendid army, on the glittering helmets, on the countless spears, each with a golden pomegranate at the end, at the eight milk-white horses that drew the sacred chariot of the god Zeus. At the sea covered with his ships, the land covered with his men, and he counted himself a happy man. But afterwards, says the old historian, afterwards he wept. The Graves of Those Who Cannot Die, Byron Meanwhile, what were the Greeks doing to prepare for the Persian invasion? There was at Athens a certain man, but newly risen to the front rank of the citizens. His name was Themistocles. His idea was to make Athens a sea state, the strongest sea state in Greece if possible. He looked out on the bays and inlets of the coast and realized what good harbors they were. He looked beyond, to the many islands, lying in the archipelago, all offering shelter and refuge to ships. And he saw that one strong fleet might protect Greece from the Persians, better than any army she could raise. A rich bed of silver had just been found in the neighborhood, and the treasury was very rich. So Themistocles advised the Athenians to spend the sum of money in building new ships, and at last he persuaded them to listen to him. Before many years had passed, Athens had a fleet of two hundred ships, the most powerful fleet in Greece. Themistocles had some difficulty in carrying his point, because there was another citizen in Athens who disapproved of his plan. His name was Aristides, and he was known as the Just, because he was the soul of honor. He thought that if Athens had beaten the Persian once by land, she might do so again. He thought it was better for the people to improve their army rather than their navy. For his opposition, he was exiled for ten years from Greece, but he found a way of helping Athens afterwards, which has made his name famous. It was agreed that the King of Sparta should undertake the defense of a narrow pass which connected north and south Greece together, and through which the Persian army must pass. The name of Leonidas, King of Sparta, will ever live in the world's history for a splendid, if hopeless, defense of the Pass of Thermopylae. With some hundreds of Spartans he marched northwards to take up the post allotted to him. The pass lay between high mountains and the sea. It was about a mile long. The narrow entrances were known as the Pylei, or Gates, and the whole pass, distinguished for its hot springs, was known as the Pass of the Hot Gates. The fleet, under a Spartan commander, took up its position at the sea end of the Pass. The mountain road was kept by some Greeks from a neighboring state. The Persians approached. For four days they lay before the pass without attacking, astonished to see the Spartans quietly practicing their gymnastics, and combing their long hair, as they did before a festival. You will not be able to see the sun for the clouds of javelins and arrows. The Persians cried to Leonidas before they began the attack. We will fight in the shade then, was his quiet and heroic reply. On the fifth day the Persians attacked, but they met with no success against the stout-hearted Spartans. Even the choicest of the Persian soldiers, known as the Ten Thousand, or the Immortals, made no impression on them. Thrice says the old historian, the king sprang from his throne in agony for his army. On the third day after the fighting had begun, a native of Greece told Xerxes of a path over the mountain, and that nightfall a strong Persian force was sent to ascend the path and attack the Greeks in the rear. In the early morning the Greeks at the head of the pass heard a trampling through the woods. They fled away in terror, and the Persians marched on behind Leonidas. In the course of the night, Leonidas knew what had happened. He saw that, if he did not retreat at once, he must be surrounded and perish. But the law of Sparta forbade the soldier to leave his post. Leonidas had no fear of death. The other troops went away, but the king of Sparta and his six hundred men resolved to die at their post. The Persians came on, and things became more and more desperate for the Greeks. Leonidas was killed, and one by one the brave Spartans fell around him. They did not die in vain. It was a moment when the hearts of the Greeks were wavering, and men were inclined to forsake country for self. That the Spartan king Leonidas and his Spartan subjects showed Greece how citizens should do their duty. At the entrance to the pass the king and his warriors were buried, while these words were engraved in their memory. Go tell the Spartans, thou that passeth by, that here, obedient to their laws, we lie. Please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Angela Weech On the Shores of the Great Sea by M.B. Sing Chapter 28 Victory for the Greeks A king sat on the rocky brow which looks o'er seaborn Salamis, and ships by thousands lay below, and men and nations all were his. He counted them at break of day, and when the sun set, where were they? Byron Having gained the pass it was natural that Xerxes should lead his army on to Athens. The Spartans did not care whether Athens fell into the hands of the Persians or not. They wished to save Corinth, and so save South Greece, where lay their own land. For Greece was not a united country. Each little state wanted what it could get for itself. The men of Athens knew it was hopeless to try and defend their city alone against the whole Persian army, so they resolved to abandon it. Very full of sorrow, men, women, and children left their homes and streamed down to the seashore, carrying what they could with them. There they found the Greek ships waiting to bear them away, and so when Xerxes and his mighty army reached Athens they found it silent and deserted. Only a few poor and desperate men had refused to depart, and had posted themselves on the top of the Acropolis, the fortress of Athens. The Persians, disappointed of their prey, took their revenge. They stormed the Acropolis, slew the brave defenders, and set the town on fire. Athens had fallen. There was but one hope now for the Greeks. They had their ships. Themistocles had been right after all. The ships were yet to save the country. When Xerxes had advanced to Athens, his fleet had sailed along the coast and was now anchored. The Greek fleet lay but a few miles off, close to the large island of Salamis, between Athens on the one side and Corinth on the other. A council of Greeks was held. Themistocles rose to speak at once and to urge a naval battle without delay. The Corinthian general was very angry. O Themistocles, he cried, those who stand up too soon in the games are whipped. Yes, answered Themistocles. But those who start late are not crowned. He saw that the Greeks must fight at once, or in their despair at the loss of Athens they might not remain faithful. Still he could not get others to see things from his point of view, so he thought of a plan to bring on the battle quickly. He sent a trusty slave across the narrow strait to the Persian admiral, saying that the Greeks were panic-stricken and about to escape. The Persian admiral fell into the trap. In the dead of night he moved his fleet noiselessly round and blocked up the narrow inlet of the strait so that the Greeks could not escape. Early next morning it was still dark and the commanders were sitting at council when Themistocles was called out by a stranger. It was the exile Aristides. In the ruin and distress of Athens he had come to serve those who had banished him and had made his way through the Persian fleet in the darkness to tell the Greek commanders that they had been surrounded. Themistocles, he urged, let us still be rivals but let our contest be who best shall serve our country. As the rising sun of the September morning cast its shadows across the blue bay of Salamis the Greek fleet put out from shore to the accustomed notes of the war hymn to Apollo. The enemy's ships faced them all across the narrow strait stretching far away to right and left and cutting off all chance of escape. Behind the Persian ships the Persian army was drawn up along the shore and a lofty throne was set in the midst from which the great king Xerxes could survey the battle. The Persian fleet advanced and the Greeks seized with terror began to back their oars towards the shore. Soon the two fleets were engaged. The Greeks fought in good order and kept their ships in line while the Persian fleet was soon in confusion. Oars and helms were broken, ships lay helpless on the water. The old vessels had no rudders but were steered with broad blades. Confusion soon became a panic. Vessel crashed against vessel. Persian ships were jammed together in the narrow space, beaten and disabled they disappeared under the very eyes of Xerxes the king. Some two hundred were thus destroyed and the rest fled out of the narrow strait. By sunset the battle was over. The Greeks had won their victory and saved their country from the Persians. And so the great conflict between Eastern tyranny and European freedom was over. Marathon, Thermopylae, Salamis closed one of the most important and thrilling chapters in the world's great history. Now while Greece was settling down after her warfare with Persia, let us take a look at her possessions abroad and see how her children over the seas are getting on. One of her largest and most important colonies was Cyrene, on the north coast of Africa and opposite the southern point of Greece. It was one of the fairest spots on the face of the earth. Standing about ten miles from the sea, high above sea level, it was sheltered from the hot blasts of the desert and opened to the cool breezes of the Mediterranean over whose blue waters it commanded a glorious view. Terraces, rich and fertile, stretched from mountain to shore. The land was surrounded by mountains and rivers and rivers and rivers and rivers and rivers and rivers and rivers and rivers and rivers and rivers and rivers and rivers and rivers stretched from mountain to shore. To the west, her boundaries reached those of Carthage, being marked by the altar of the Filani. A curious story is told of how the men of Carthage and the men of Cyrene agreed on their boundary. Carthage belonged to the Phoenicians and Cyrene to the Greeks, and those were rival powers on the shores of the Mediterranean. It was arranged that, at a given time, two men from each city should start, and the spot where they met should be the boundary. The men of Carthage chose two brothers called the Filani. They ran much faster than the Greeks of Cyrene so that the Greeks accused them of starting before the appointed time. After some dispute, the Greeks agreed to accept the spot as boundary if the Filani would consent to be buried alive at this very spot in the sand. The brothers bravely agreed for their country's sake to suffer death. They were, accordingly, buried alive in the sand, in the full vigor of their manhood. Their grateful countrymen erected the altar to their memory. It was known as the altar of the Filani. But still more important than Cyrene was the Greek colony of Syracuse, the capital of Sicily, the old legendary land of the Cyclops, known to the ancients as Greater Greece. The great haven of Syracuse, with its island and its hill, occupied the most striking site on the east coast of Sicily, and could not fail to invite early colonists. So, three hundred years before this, the Greeks had driven out the Phoenicians, who had a station there, and now it was one of their most thriving colonies. Like the colonists at Cyrene, the Lord of Syracuse sent his racehorses and chariots to contend in the great games at Olympia, and the Grecian poets wrote odes in honor of Sicilian victories. Possessing such a fine harbor, this colony of Syracuse had her own ships. Let us see what these ships were like at this time. The early Greek warships were long and narrow, with twenty-five benches, on each of which set two oresmen. That is to say they were rode by no less than fifty ores. Later the Greeks built their ships with two rows of benches, one above the other, so that the number of oresmen and the speed could be increased without adding to the length of the ship. But about this time the Phoenicians invented a new sort of ship, and the Greeks soon copied them. The new ship had three bags of ores, and was rode by no less than one hundred and seventy men. This was the kind of ship that was used by the Greeks at the Battle of Salamis. These triremes, as they were called, had a square sail to be raised when the wind was favorable. Now the men of Syracuse invented an improvement to these triremes as warships. The old idea in naval warfare was to dash the pointed beak of the ship's front into the enemy's vessel, so cutting it in two and causing it to sink. The men of Syracuse made their beaks, or prows, of bronze, which was more effective, and it gave them the victory over the Phoenicians in the harbor of Syracuse. Chapter 30 Across the Blue Waters Without freedom, what worked thou, Greece? Without thee, Greece, what were the world? Mueller Just across the Blue Mediterranean from Sicily, they had a flourishing colony at Carthage, belonging to the Phoenicians. Now there was great rivalry between these two people, for each owned large possessions along the shores of the Great Sea, and the men of Carthage were known to covet the rich colony of Sicily. It lay but fifty miles across that tideless blue sea, an easy enough voyage for the clever Phoenicians. At last they saw their chance of attacking the Greeks there. Xerxes, the great king of Persia, was attacking the mother country. Phoenician sailors were manning her ships. Was not this the time for the sailors of younger Phoenicia, even the men of Carthage, to sail across and take the younger Greece, even Sicily? The men of Carthage began to prepare under their commander, Hamilcar. When all was ready, they set sail with three thousand ships and an enormous number of men. They had men from the island of Sardinia, from the island of Corsica, and men from Spain. But on the way over, they encountered a terrific storm, and a number of ships and horses were lost. Hamilcar landed at Palermo, at the western end of the three-cornered island. The war is over, he murmured, as he stepped on shore, so sure did he feel that he would win. Here he gave his army a rest, and then marched on Himera. There he dragged his ships on shore and made a deep ditch to protect them. A long and terrible battle was fought, in which the men of Carthage were hopelessly defeated, and the Carthaginians went home and told a grand story of the death of their commander. All day long, they said, Hamilcar stood apart from the fight like Moses of old. All day, for the battle raged from sunrise to sunset, he threw burnt offerings into a great fire according to the belief in his forefathers. Towards evening, the news reached him that his army was defeated. The moment for the greatest sacrifice of all had come, and Hamilcar threw himself into the burning fire as the most costly gift of all. The rest of the story is equally tragic. Another storm overturning fleet and one little boat alone carried back to Carthage the dismal news that its army, fleet, and commander had perished. The battle of Himera was fought on the same day as the battle of Salamis, and on both occasions the Greeks were victorious. They had fought bravely for their freedom. They had thrown off the Yoke of Persia and the Yoke of Carthage. We must see now what use Greece made of her liberty, and how she taught the world that commerce and trade were not the only ends in view, that ambition in itself was paltry, and how she created that beauty and art which have influenced nation upon nation, and which play so large a part in the civilization of today. END OF CHAPTER 30 Athens and Sparta were now the greatest powers in Greece, and all the smaller powers were anxious to obtain the friendship of one or the other. Let us see how Athens outstripped them all. First she sprang into a great commercial city thronged with traders, her merchant ships were in every part of Greece, her navy was the strongest in the world, she had untold wealth, and might have exceeded the old towns of Tyre and Carthage in the glory of her trade, but one citizen arose who dreamt of higher things for Greece. His name was Pericles. He saw at once that since the Persian wars everything was changed, and he wanted to see the men of Greece capable of ruling themselves in their country. And so while Sparta remained a plain village, Athens became a most beautiful city which stood forth as an example to others. Pericles had realized that mere wealth and prosperity alone could never make lasting greatness. He wanted to see his fellow countrymen happy and prosperous, but he saw this could only come through education. He must wake up the faculties of the Greeks by making their daily life bright and active instead of dull and listless. Under his guidance the temples and statues of the gods were made grand and calm and beautiful. Pictures were painted in the public places of the great events in Greekian history so that the minds of the citizen should dwell on great and noble deeds of heroism rather than ideas of gaining wealth for wealth's own sake as the Phoenicians had done before them. Plays too were written by great poets and performed at the cost of the state in a large open building before crowds of people. These plays were known as tragedies and comedies. They gave the Athenians great pleasure helping them to enjoy the higher and noble views of life rather than the stupid amusements of the day. The great writer of tragedies for the men of Greece was Aeschylus. He had born shield and spear at Marathon. He had fought at Salamis and so could write the Persian Wars from his own knowledge. Sophocles, another great writer, was only 15 at the battle of Salamis, but he was so beautiful and musical that he was chosen to lead the Chorus which sang the hymn of victory after the battle. So Athens herself was made beautiful by the wise Pericles. The first spoils of the Persian War had already been devoted to the honor of the goddess of Athens, Athene on the Acropolis. This colossal bronze statue stood warlike and direct with helmet, spear, and shield high above the city and the sailor from afar at sea could see the point of her spear and the crest of her helmet gleaming across the blue waters. But the goddess Athene was to receive greater honors yet. On the south side of the Acropolis a magnificent temple known today as a Parthenon was built in her honor as a storehouse of sacred treasure. There is an old story which says that the question was raised whether the figure should be of marble or of ivory. The great sculptor Phidias suggested marble as the cheapest but the whole assembly of Athenians shouted aloud for ivory and gold, nothing being too rich for the statue of Athene. A theater of music was also built, its pointed roof made from the masts of the Persian ships which were captured at Salamis being shaped like the tents of Xerxes. It was little wonder then that when Pericles lay dying the men of Athens began to talk of the noble deeds he had done to praise his wisdom, his learning, as well as his buildings. He found Athens a brick, they said, and left her of marble. Suddenly the sick man raised himself on his bed. I wonder, he said, you praise these things in me and yet you have left out what is my chief honor, namely that I never caused any fellow citizen to put on mourning. It was perhaps the first time in history that humanity had been placed above all else. Such briefly was Athens after the Persian wars unequaled in beauty, unrivaled as queen of Greece. Phoenicia had given to her colonies a heritage of commerce and trade. Greece gave her colonies a heritage higher than this. Wealth to her was a means to an end. She made her city beautiful and so raised the minds of her citizens to care for things above riches alone, and this idea grew and spread beyond her city, beyond her colonies, even beyond her empire. Her poetry has inspired poets of the ages that followed her historian. Her historian Herodotus is still called the father of all history. Her art alone reached the standard of perfect beauty. What if the very cause of her greatest glory was likewise the cause of her fall? She gave glory to the world that which no nation had given yet, that which has helped men to do and die for their country, that which has shown them that there are higher and better things to live for than the attainment of wealth or the ambition of conquest. End of Chapter 31, Recording by Stephen Carney, Menasha, Wisconsin Chapter 32 of On the Shores of the Great Sea, This is a LibriVox Recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Chris Koran, On the Shores of the Great Sea, by M. B. Sins, Chapter 17, The Death of Socrates. And because right is right to follow right, we're wisdom in the scorn of consequence, by Tennyson. One of the most familiar figures in Athens at this time was that of Socrates, and the story of his life and death thrills us with the interest today. His youth and manhood were passed in the most splendid period of Athenian history. Pericles was making the city beautiful. Men were writing poetry and history, as they had never been written since the world began. Art and sculpture ranked high in that period of genius. As a boy, Socrates received the usual education in music and gymnastics. He learned a little science and mathematics and understood something of astronomy. But his greatness did not spring from his learning, rather it sprang from his thoughtfulness and his close observation of his fellowmen. He was a man who hated everything sham or hollow. He loved the truth and justice for their own sake. He loved all that was high and honorable and right. He was a well-known figure in Athens. For all day long he wandered about the streets, now talking with a group of clever men at one of the corners. Now speaking to the children who might care to listen, now arguing with his devoted pupils and disciples, this great Socrates was strange enough to look at. He was very ugly with the flat nose and prominent eyes, and he was dressed very shabbily because he was always poor. When the men of Athens turned on him at the last and brought him up for the trial, for Lyra was all he had to offer for his life wealth, beauty, praise—these things he despised as unworthy. Truth, justice, courage, honor—these were the things that made a man acceptable to his God. Here is the account of him by his great friend. At one time we were fellow soldiers together, he says. His fortitude in enduring gold was surprising. There it was severe frost for the winter in that region is really tremendous, and everybody else either remained indoors or, if they were went out, had on an amazing quantity of clothes, and they well shod and had their feet swabbed and fell in fleases. In the midst of this, Socrates with his bare feet on the ice and in his ordinary dress marched better than the other soldiers who had shoes, and they looked daggers at him because he seemed to despise them. Such was the man who stood head and soldiers above his fellows. Let us look at him when he is an old man still discursing in the streets of Athens. This time he is speaking to two little schoolboys on friendship. He has just been brought into a newly built school. Having come in, he says, we found the boys all in their white array and games at dice were going among them. There is also a circle of lookers on, among them was Lysus. He was standing with the other boys and youths, having a crown upon his head, like a vision and not less worthy of praise for his goodness than for his beauty we went over to the opposite side of the room where we sat down and began to talk. This attracted Lysus, who is constantly churning around to look at us. He was evidently waiting to come to us. Presently Lysus and a boy came and sat down by an old man, and Socrates began talking to them. Which of you two youths is the elder? he asked. Is that a matter of dispute between us? answered one of the boys. And which is the nobler? Is that also a matter of dispute? Yes, certainly, they answered. And another disputed point is, which is the fair? The two boys laughed. I do not ask which is the richer of the two, he said. For you are friends, are you not? Certainly they replied, and friends have all things in common, so that one of you can be no richer than the other, if you say truly that you are friends. In this way, the wise old man talked to the boys, but as time went on, the men of Athens did not approve of his teaching. He talked as if there were a higher things than sacrificing to the Greek gods, and the Greeks grew alarm. The trial and death of Socrates, as it has been, written by his beloved pupil Plato, is one of the masterpieces even today in the world's history. He tells how Socrates appears, before his judges, the men of Athens to answer his charges against himself, and it gives the words of that wonderful defense. Socrates begs for his life, not for his own sake, but for theirs. He is their heaven-sent friend, through they know it not. He is an old man already, and the Athenians will gain nothing by taking away from him the few years of life remaining. But they can equate him or condemn him. He is willing to die many deaths for the cause he feels to be right. And the men of Athens condemned him to die. Fearlessly he speaks to the judges of death. Be of good cheer about death. He cries to the crowded court, and know of us certainly that no evil can happen to a good man, either in life or after death. The hour of departure has arrived, and we go our ways. I to die and you to live, which is better, God only knows. Every touching detail of the last hours of the master is told by his faithful pupil, Plato. The sun was just setting upon the hills behind Athens, when Socrates took the cup of poison, which was to end his seventy years of work. Friend after friend broke down and sobs of strong men filled the room as the Greek philosopher lay dying. What is this strange outcry, he asked at last? I have been told that a man should die in peace. Be quiet, then, and have patience. And so he died. Of all the men of his time, the wisest and the justest and best. Chapter 33. Retreat of the Ten Thousand. A march in the ranks hard-pressed and the road unknown. W. Whitman. Socrates was dead, and the brilliant period, which had made Athens the mistress of Greece, was dead too. Pericles had foreseen truly that sooner or later there must be war between Athens and Sparta. It was well for him that he died before the results of that war was known, for the fall of his beautiful city, which took place during the lifetime of Socrates, would have broken his heart. After a long war, the Spartans took formal possession of Athens, but to accomplish this, they had called in the help of the Persians. And so it came to pass. When the Persians wanted help, they called in the help of the Spartan Greeks. It is a wonderful story how Ten Thousand Greeks marched into the very heart of the Persian Empire, and a yet more wonderful one of their retreat. The expedition started two years before the death of Socrates. It was led by Cyrus, the younger brother of the reigning king of Persia, who wished to make himself king instead. But the true object of the expedition was kept secret from the Greek soldiers. Marching inland through Asia Minor, they skirted the north of Phoenicia and marched on until they reached the river Euphrates. Here it was impossible to keep from the Greeks. The secret that they were indeed marching against the king of Persia to the complaining army, which had been so deceived. Cyrus was full of promises. Each soldier should receive the year's pay. And to each of you Greeks, moreover, added Cyrus, I shall present a wreath of gold. This speech impressed the Greeks favorably, and they agreed to go on. They now plunged into the desert, smooth as a sea treeless. But alive with all kinds of beasts, strange to the Greek eyes, wild asses, ostriches, and antelopes. For thirteen days they tramped through the desert until they reached the edge of the land of Babylon. And now they learned that the king's host was advancing. It was not long before the two armies were engaged in battle. But though the king of Persia was well prepared, and had a strong force of Egyptians to help him, the Greeks won the victory. The Persians were flying before them when suddenly Cyrus caught sight of his brother, the brother whom he hated with his whole soul. He galloped forward hoping to slay him with his own hand. He got near enough to throw his javelin on Muntim, but in the scuffle that ensued Cyrus was slain. The Greeks were now in the heart of Persia, great about by foes on every side. They're later dead, their cause destroyed. Their one great desire was to get home. They had no food, and they did not know the way. The king now pretended he would send a guide who would take them safely back to their own country, but treachery was at work, and the Greeks were deserted when they were yet eight months marched. And by the shortest way from home, rivers and desert land lay before them. Persian troops were waiting to fall on them. They were in despair, few ate any supper that night. Every man lay down to rest, but not to sleep. For they were heavy with sorrow, and longing for those they might never see again. Amid the ranks was a young Athenian called Xenophon. He had been a pupil of Socrates. That night he had a dream which made him spring up at dawn. Why am I lying here? He cried to himself. At daybreak the enemy will be upon us, and we shall be killed. He called the officers together and urged immediate action. His speech put new life into the despairing men. They swore to obey him, and so began one of the most wonderful marches the world has ever seen. They went on till they came to the mountains, where dwelt some wild tribes, who stood on steep heights shooting arrows and throwing down stones at them. After much suffering and loss of life, they reached Armenia, it was December, and their way home lay through wintry snows and ice. On and on potted the ten thousand. Cold and hunger was their lot, at home lay before them, and encouraged by their young leader Xenophon they would reach Greece yet. Suddenly one day a great cry arose from those in front, Xenophon who was behind with the rear galloped up quickly fearing an enemy. As freshmen galloped to the front, the cry increased. The sea, the sea cried the Greeks, as they reached the summit of a hill and saw in the distance the blue waters. The sight of the sea was to the weary men as the sight of home. Their troubles would soon be over now, and they wept on each other's necks for very joy. It was only the black sea, and they had many long miles yet to march. Now that the danger of attack was over, the army began to lose its strength of union, and Xenophon had all he could to keep it together. Notwithstanding Xenophons and treaties, the ten thousand, now reduced in numbers, fell away from the brave beginnings. They plundered the country through which they passed, and a last Xenophon handed them over to a Spartan general to take charge of them. Then Xenophon returned to Athens, and settling in a quiet country place near Olympia, he wrote in the account of the retreat of the ten thousand, and it is due to his industry and talent that we know the famous story of their wonderful march. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. On the shores of the Great Sea by M. B. Cinge, Chapter 34, The Story of Romulus and Remus The troubled river knew them, and smoothed his yellow foam, and gently rocked the cradle that bore the fate of Rome. McCaulay. Going westward from Greece, another peninsula stretches down into the Mediterranean Sea. In shape, it is something like a long leg, and that the lower end lies the island of Sicily, which resembles a foot. We have already heard something of Sicily, and seen how the Greeks had colonies there. There's also the old story of how Enius escaped from the siege of Troy, carrying on his back his aged father, and how, after years of adventures, he landed on the shores of Italy, and built the city of Alba Longa, where, for hundreds of years, his descendants lived. At the end of this time, so runs the old legend, there was a king called Numitor. He had a brother, Amulius, who drove him from the throne, slew his daughter, and seized her two baby sons. Amulius then gave orders that the babies should be thrown into the river Tiber, which flowed through the city. Now, the Tiber had overflowed its banks, and when the waters began to subside, the cradle containing the twin babies was left high and dry on the shallow ground at the foot of the Palatine hill. There, says the story, they were found by a shepherd. He was walking by the river when he saw a cradle lying under a fig tree, and beside the cradle stood a large wolf. She had taken care of the children, but now she ran away into the woods, and the shepherd carried the baby's home to his wife. She named them Romulus and Remus, and brought them up as shepherds. So, in this home at the foot of the Palatine hill, the boys grew to manhood. They grew also very strong and brave. One day, as years went on, they discovered their origin, that they were the grandsons of Numitur, who had been dethroned by his brother. So the twins arose, collected an army, drove away Amulius, and brought their grandfather back to Alba Longa. They then resolved to build a new city for themselves, on one of the seven low hills, beneath which ran the Yellow River Tiber. But Remus wanted to build on one hill, and Romulus on another. Their grandfather advised them each to stand on a hill, and whichever of them saw the greatest number of vultures flying, he should build a city on his chosen hill. Remus saw six vultures, but Romulus saw twelve from the Palatine hill. So that was made the beginning of the new city, and Romulus was chosen king. Yolking together a white cow and a snow white bull to a plowsher, he drew a furrow around the Palatine, and began to build the walls of the city. But Remus was angry with him, and before the walls had reached his own height, he jumped over them, mocking as he did so. He was immediately slain, while Romulus cried, so perish all who dare to climb these ramparts. He called the name of the city Rome, after himself, and lived in a mud-hovel covered with tatch in the midst of it. This was in the year 753, and the Romans count their history from this date, just as the Greeks count theirs from the beginning of the Olympic Games. Under Romulus, the population of the new city grew apace, partly because he allowed it to be a refuge for runaway slaves and murderers. He made laws and appointed a Senate, a body of elderly men, to help him with the government. It was this Romulus too, who divided the year into ten months, the first being March, named from Mars, the God he delighted to honor. But his successor added two more, making January the first month, after the God Johnus, to whom he had built a temple. This was how Rome began, that Rome, which was to play such an immense part in the world's great history. Rome, the eternal city. Rome, the city of the seven hills. Rome, long ago, the mistress of the world. Chapter 35 Of On The Shores Of The Great Sea This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. On The Shores Of The Great Sea, by M.B. Singh Chapter 35 How Horatious Kept The Bridge With weeping and with laughter still is the story told, how well Horatious kept the bridge in the brave days of old. Macaulay, still in the shadow land of history, a family called Tarquin came to live in Rome. Their father, a wealthy merchant, had come from Greece, bringing with him some of the artists and sculptures whose genius had made his Greek home so beautiful. Tarquin married an Italian lady, and made great friends with the king, at whose death he became king of Rome himself. So a Greek ruled over Rome. This Tarquin was the first Roman king to wear a purple robe and crown of gold, and he planned a sort of little Olympia in the plain below the city, where games could be played and chariot races run. For over a hundred years the Tarquins ruled over Rome, and they did a great deal for the city, by introducing what they had learned in Greece. But after a time the Romans rose against them. They dethroned the last of the Tarquins, and elected two consuls instead. Tarquin fled to a great and powerful king, called Lars Persenna, who collected an army and marched with him to Rome, to help him regain his lost kingdom. But the Romans had a brave citizen, called Horatius, and the legend says he defended the bridge over the Tiber, and so saved Rome. This is the story. While Lars Persenna and his huge army were on the march to Rome, laying waste the country through which they passed, the consul of Rome and the fathers of the city were holding a hurried council before the river gate. The bridge must be destroyed, said the consul. Nothing else can save the town. Just then a scout came flying, all wild with hasten fear. To arms, to arms, sir consul, Lars Persenna is here. On the low hills to the westward, the great army could be seen. Louder and louder sounded the trumpets' war notes, while in broken gleams shone the long array of bright helmets and glittering spears. Under the royal standard, Lars Persenna himself sat in his ivory car. The Roman consul grew very grave. Their van will be upon us before the bridge goes down. And if they once may win the bridge, what hope to save the town? Then out spoke brave Horatius, the captain of the gate. To every man upon this earth death cometh sooner or late. And how can men die better than facing fearful odds for the ashes of his fathers and the temples of his gods? Hew down the bridge, sir consul, with all the speed you may. I, with two more to help me, will hold the foe in play. And yon straight path a thousand may well be stopped by three. Now, who will stand on either hand and keep the bridge with me? Two Romans stepped forth at once and offered to help, and the dauntless three went forth against the mighty army of Lars Persenna. Now, while the three were tightening their harness on their backs, the consul was the foremost men to take in hand and axe, and fathers, mixed with commons, seized hatchet, bar, and crow, and smote upon the planks above and loose the props below. On came the great host, laughing at the thought of three men keeping the bridge against them. Three chiefs with swords and shields came forward to fight, but in a few minutes they all three laid dead at the feet of Horatius and his two friends. Forward came another three, but only to meet with the same fate. The laughter died away, and for a time none dared venture forth against these brave Romans. But, meanwhile, axe and lever have meantfully been plied, and now the bridge hangs tottering above the boiling tide. Come back! Come back, Horatius! Loud cry the fathers all! Back, Larsius! Back, Herminius! Back, ere the ruin fall! Back darted, Spurius, Larsius! Herminius darted back, and as they passed beneath their feet they felt the timbers crack. But when they turned their faces, and on the farther shore saw brave Horatius stand alone, they would have crossed once more. But with a crash like thunder fell every losing beam, and like a dam the mighty wrack lay right thwart the stream. And a long shout of triumph rose from the walls of Rome, as to the highest tear tops was splashed the yellow foam. Alone stood Horatius, thrice three thousand foes before, and the broad flood behind. His foes besought him to yield, but he took no notice. He looked beyond the rushing river to the white porch of his home on the Palatine Hill, and then he cried to the river that rolls by the towers of Rome. Ho Tiber, Father Tiber, to whom the Romans prey, a Romans life, a Romans arms, take thou in charge this day. With these words he plunged headlong into the fiercely flowing river. Not a sound of joy or sorrow rose from either bank. All watched in breathless silence the brave men struggles. Suddenly they saw his helmet appear above the foaming waters, and a shout of delight rose from the Romans. Heaven help him, Guathlar's persona, and bring him safe to shore, for such a gallant feat of arms was never seen before. Horatius reached home in safety, and amid weeping and clapping he was born through the gate of Rome by the joyous crowds. They erected a golden statue of their hero, and wrote his deed in letters of gold. Chapter 36 Here is one more story of the old Roman days before the true history of Rome begins. It is the story of a man who became a traitor to his country, which was only saved by his mother's tears. When Coriolanus was a boy, he was called Caeus Marchus. His mother brought him up in Rome to be all that a boy ought to be, brave and honorable and true. He was also strong, and could run so fast that none could compare with him. He first fought in the battle of Lake Regilles, such have been won by the twin gods Castor and Pollux under snow-white steeds. For his bravery he received a crown of oak leaves, though only sixteen at the time. There was a tribe of people living some way from Rome who had a quarrel with the Romans. They were known as Volcians. Against one of their towns, called Corioli, the Romans now marched, and among them was the young Caeus Marchus. He fought so well that it was mainly due to him that the town was taken. Wherever the fight was thickest, there was the young Roman. At last, he was badly wounded. The soldiers begged him to go to his tent that his wounds might be dressed and rest. It is not for conquerors to be tired, he cried, and went on fighting. The fighting over, and the town of Corioli taken, the Roman council made a speech to the army, praising the gallant deeds of Caeus Marchus. Of all the plunder we have gained, we will give the tenth part to Caeus Marchus, he said, for he has well deserved it. He then crowned him, and gave him the surname of Coriolanus in honor of his victory. Coriolanus refused all reward. He only asked for the freedom of a friend who had been taken prisoner. Soon after this, there was a great famine in Rome. During the wars, no one had tilled the land, and there was no corn except what was brought from Sicily. One day, a large shipload of corn arrived from Sicily. Coriolanus stood up in the senate, and proposed withholding it from the people. The people were furious. Coriolanus would take from us this foreign corn, which is our only chance of getting bread for our children, they cried. Unless we give up our power of voting for loss, he will make us lays or forces to die of hunger. They tried to kill Coriolanus, and the senate ordered that he should be tried. He was tried, and condemned to exile. He must leave Rome and never return. In vain he pleaded that he loved his country. The people were firm. He must go. Then the love of Coriolanus for Rome turned to hate, and with the fierce words, there is a world elsewhere. He left them. He went straight to the country of the Volcians, and entering the house of the warrior chief, he sat down by the fire, and covered his face with his cloak. At last he spoke. I am Caius Marchus, he said, the man who has done so much to harm you. The ungrateful people of Rome have driven me away from their city. I come to ask you to let me join you against the Romans. The warrior was greatly surprised, but the Volcians were delighted to have Coriolanus, and very soon they led a large army against Rome. When the Romans heard that the banished Coriolanus was in command of an army of the Volcians, within five miles of Rome, they were very much alarmed. They sent friends of his, men he once loved, to plead with him for his native city. But Coriolanus told them, unless they would give up a large piece of land to the Volcians, he would fight. Again the Romans sent messengers to plead with him, but in vain he would not relent. He intended to have his revenge on Rome. At last the Romans thought of a last resource. They remembered the love that Coriolanus had always borne his mother, and they now begged her to go to him, and beg him to spare Rome. Taking one of her little grandsons by the hand, accompanied by her daughter-in-law, leading the other, and followed by a band of Roman women, Volumnia stood one day before her exiled son, Coriolanus. In pitiful terms she told him of Rome's unhappiness at his action. She spoke of her own misery at his fall and plan of revenge. She reminded him of his upright youth, his honor, and his old love for her. Kneeling at his feet, the two women and the children entreated him to spare Rome. The proud man was touched. What the other messengers could not do, these Roman women had accomplished. Oh mother, mother, what have you done? He cried, gently raising her up. You have saved Rome, but lost your son. I go, conquered by you alone. The women carried the glad news back to Rome, and Coriolanus led his army back to the Volcians. But they were angry at his having made peace with their enemies, and they arose and killed him. So Coriolanus died, and the Romans built a temple on the spot where Volumnia had knelt to him. CHAPTER 37 Alexander the Great Men are but children of a larger growth. Dryden While Rome is struggling into existence, while Carthage is growing in power on the opposite coast of Africa, let us take a look at a newly growing nation to the north of Greece, which threatened for a time the whole existing world. The story of this nation, which was known as Macedonia, is really the story of Alexander the Great, for it was due to his greatness alone that Macedonia became the power she was. Some 200 miles to the north of Athens lay the little mountainous country of Macedonia. It was of little or no importance in the then known world until a king called Philip arose, who in the year 356 BC had a son called Alexander. Philip boasted his descent from Hercules, while his wife traced her lineage back to the hero Achilles, so that in the boy Alexander two lines of ancient northern kings were joined. One story survives of Alexander's boyhood, which shows what stuff he was made of. A vicious horse was one day brought before King Philip in a field where he was standing with his wife and son. But the animal seemed so fierce and unmanageable, rearing high when the grooms tried to mount it, that Philip bad them take it away. What an excellent horse they are losing for a wad of skill and spirit to manage him, said the boy Alexander several times, until his father turned to him saying, young man, you find fault with your elders as if you could manage the horse better. I could manage this horse better than others do, answered the boy, and if you do not, said his father, what will you pay for your rashness? I will pay the whole price of the horse, he answered bravely. At this the whole company laughed, but Alexander ran at once to the horse. Laying hold of the animal's bridle, he turned him first to the sun, for he noticed how the strong shadow disturbed the animal. Then, letting him go forward a little, still keeping the reins in his hand and stroking him gently, when he found him beginning to grow fiery, he let fall his upper garment softly and with one nimble leap securely mounted him. When he was seated, he drew in the bridle and curbed him gradually without striking him. Then he let him go at full speed, urging him on with a commanding voice and touching him with his heel. The king and assembled company looked on in silent anxiety till they saw the boy riding the horse back in triumph. Then they all burst out in loud applause, and his father kissed him with tears in his eyes as he cried in his joy, Oh my son, look thee out of kingdom equal to thyself, for Macedonia is too small for thee. Philip now sent for Aristotle the most learned and celebrated philosopher of his time to come and teach his son, who is now thirteen. Aristotle had been the pupil of Plato, from whom he must have learnt much of Socrates, Plato's beloved master. Such a man, then, as this Aristotle, whose works are read and taught everywhere today, was likely to train the mind of this exceptional boy to the very best advantage. A story is told that Aristotle taught several princes as well as Alexander in the school by the shady grove. One day he said to one of these king's sons, When some day you become king, what favour do you think you will show me your teacher? You shall dine at my table, and I will make all show you honour and respect, answered the boy. And you, he inquired of another? I will make you my chief treasurer, answered the next. Then, turning to Alexander, he said, And you, my son, what do you propose to do with me your old teacher, when you come to sit on the throne of your father? What right have you to ask me of the future, answered the boy? As I have no knowledge of the morrow, I can only say that when the day and hour is come, then I will give you your answer. Well said, cried his master, well said Alexander, world monarch, for thou wilt one day be the greatest king of all. And Aristotle was right. On the shores of the great sea, by M. B. Singh Chapter 38 King of Macedonia My son, thou art invincible, Delphi and Oracle When he was but sixteen years old, Alexander had his first experience of public affairs, for in the summer of this year, three forty, Philip set out on an expedition, leaving his young son in charge of affairs and of the seal. Alexander made better use of his time than his father, for where Philip had failed, his son succeeded beyond all expectation in subduing a restless mountain tribe. His influence now grew rapidly, and the Macedonians murmured already, Alexander is king. But a family quarrel arose, hot words passed between Alexander and his father. There was a scene in which the king sprang on his son with drawn sword, but he fell down before he reached him, and Alexander's taunt has passed into history. Here is a man, he cried scornfully, who has been preparing to cross from Europe into Asia, but he has been upset in crossing from one couch to another. After this, Alexander and his mother left the country, but not for long. Before the year was out Philip was dead, killed by an assassin, and Alexander was king of Macedonia. He was surrounded by enemies on all sides. Now since the days of Socrates, when Athens was at the height of her glory, Greece had suffered greatly from her want of unity. She had been torn by her small wars, and even the common danger of Persia had not brought her union. Now there was another common danger, but the Greeks were slow to realize it. There was one Greek citizen, however, who saw more clearly than the rest how yearningly the eyes of Philip were turned towards Greece. Let the Greeks cease their quarrels with one another, and unite to preserve the liberty which is their birthright against the despot who seeks to enslave them all. Such was the cry of Demosthenes, this far-seeing man, the most famous orator Greece ever had. But he cried to the people in vain. Philip came down to Greece, and it was not long before her liberties were crushed, and she became a province of Macedonia. Now Philip was dead, and the Grecian states hoped to shake off the yoke of Macedonia. Demosthenes was seen in the streets of Athens wearing a garland about his head, and dressed in white, as for a holiday, for he knew the enemy of Athens was dead, and he did not know that Alexander would be a greater conqueror than his father had been. The new young king of Macedonia, though full of foreign schemes, first turned his attentions to Greece. He marched south to Corinth. City after city in Greece submitted to the new and powerful king of Macedonia, until, with the fall of Thebes, the last Grecian town to hold out, Alexander's campaign in Europe was at an end. The rest of his life was spent in Asia. The world toward which Alexander had set his face, and which he was now preparing to enter, was the great old world of the East. That world which was great long before Greece and Rome, that world which was being left utterly behind in the great march of mankind forwards. The boundary between Asia and Europe has always been a rigid one. It was the same in the days of Alexander as it is today. The continents are divided by customs, dress, homes, and faith, differences that thousands of years have never succeeded in altering, for the difference of East and West abides in the very heart of things. To unite the East and West was the dream of Alexander's life, that is to say, he tried to do what has not been done even today. He wanted to conquer the great old world, to teach the men of the East about Greece, to tame the old world and bring it into order. He did not succeed in doing this, but he did succeed in a great deal that he set out to do. End of Chapter 38 Chapter 39 of On the Shores of the Great Sea This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. On the Shores of the Great Sea by M. B. Singh Chapter 39 Conquest of the East Sea the conquering hero comes, sound the trumpet, beat the drums Nathaniel Lee, Alexander the Great Before starting forth on his great expedition, Alexander divided his royal forests and domains among his friends as though he expected never to return. And what is left for yourself? asked one of these friends. Hope was the fine answer. Then, cried the friend, rejecting his portion of the land, we who go forth to fight with you need to share only in your hope. Such was the enthusiasm with which Alexander left his country. The Persian Empire was very weak at this time and governed by a feeble monarch. Two generations had passed away since Xenophon had led his famous 10,000 into the heart of the country. Alexander had no doubts as to his being able to conquer it. He soon reached the Hellespont, or as we now call it, the Dardanelles, and steering with his own hands the flagship across the narrowest spot where 146 years before Xerxes had stretched his famous bridge of boats. He was the first to leap ashore. He had already hurled a spear into the soil from the prow of the ship wherein full armor he stood. While the mighty Greek army was crossing the narrow water, in the 160 triremes hired for the purpose, Alexander was hurrying to Troy to honor the memory of the heroes who were buried there, to crown with a garland the gravestone of his forefather Achilles, and to sacrifice to Athena. This episode shows how imbued Alexander was with the Greek traditions. Indeed, it is said he always carried with him a copy of Homer's works. So much did he admire the old blind poet of Greece. Meanwhile the Persian troops were encamped on the farther bank of a little river, and it was necessary to fight in the Gate of Asia as it were for an entrance. The day was far advanced when Alexander made up his mind to attack. His old general advised him to wait till morning broke to cross the river. I should be ashamed, cried the young king, having crossed the Hellespont to be detained by this paltry little stream. If I halt now, the Persians will take courage and flatter themselves they are a match for the Macedonians. Sending on some of his cavalry to engage the enemy, Alexander, in his glittering armor, mounted his horse, called to his men to remember their valour, and while the trumpets blared and the war cry echoed far, he plunged into the stream. Showers of arrows fell on them as they struggled through the water, while the Persians hurled javelins down on them from the opposite banks. But at last they gained the muddy bank on the farther shore and with spears attacked the foe. Alexander was in the thick of the fight, his large plume of white feathers making him ever a marked man, but he gained a splendid victory and escaped without a wound. Some of the Persian rugs and golden goblets, rich booty of his victory, he sent home to his mother. Three hundred suits of armor were sent to Athens to be hung up in the Acropolis. Alexander had now made his name. He was but twenty-two, blue-eyed and golden-haired, with a clear white skin and very beautiful to look on. But better than all this, he was frank and generous. Fear to him was unknown. He was loyal to his friends and he was greatly beloved. With the dust of battle still on him, he led his army forwards. Ephesus soon fell into his hands, in gratitude for which he helped to rebuild the great Temple of Diana, which had been destroyed the day of his own birth. It was not long before the whole of Asia Minor had fallen into his hands. There is a story told of him when he was at a place called Gordia, from which the saying Gordian Knot has been taken. On the hill above the town stood the royal palace of King Midas, where stood a famous chariot to which the yoke was fastened by the knotted bow of a cornell tree. It was said that whoever could untie this knot should be Lord of Asia. To the delight of all, Alexander somehow managed to cut the knot and so fulfilled the prophecy. It was springtime when he dashed down over some high mountains to take possession of the town of Tarsus. After a long ride in the burning sun, he bathed in the cool waters of a stream which brought on a violent chill and nearly ended his life. As soon as he was well enough, he dashed onwards for he knew that a large Persian host was advancing against him. A magnificent host it was. In the center of it was the king in a high and richly adorned chariot, wearing a purple mantle trimmed with precious stones. He was surrounded by a band of immortals in golden robes carrying silver-handed lances. Following him, uncovered chariots were his mother, his wives, and children, six hundred mules and three hundred camels with their luggage. The Persians made sure of crushing Alexander this time, but it was not to be. Alexander gained another great victory. The immortals gave way. The king sprang from his chariot, mounted a horse, and never rested till he was on the far side of the river Euphrates. He had left his old mother behind at the mercy of the victor. Having conquered Asia Minor, Alexander proceeded to Aphinesia and took Tyre after a long siege. Then he went down to Egypt. Turn and the world is thine. Kipling. It was now two and a half years since Alexander had entered Asia. The fall of Tyre had given him not only Syria but Egypt, too, and the command of the sea in this part of the Mediterranean. For Egypt was not strong enough to withstand this world conqueror, so Alexander was crowned King of Memphis, the old capital of the Pharaohs. Here he held athletic games and a contest of poets to which the most famous artists came over from Greece. From Memphis he sailed down the river Nile and founded a city, which is still called by his name, Alexandria, the port of Egypt. The new lord of Egypt and Syria, with the whole coast land now in his possession, he then started for Persia once more, for the Shah was again preparing to oppose him. A great battle was fought, one of the greatest on record of the ancient world. The Shah had once more to ride breathlessly for his life, his army was scattered to the winds, and thousands were made captive. It seemed, indeed, that Alexander was invincible. Babylon submitted to him at once. Shushan, the old capital, fell without a blow, and the victorious monarch marched ever forwards. The death of the Shah of Persia put fresh power into his hands. It was the task of his life to spread Greek ideas in the east. The best way to do this seemed to be to become King of the east according to eastern ideas. So he surrounded himself with eastern forms and pomp. He married a Persian wife. He dressed in the white tunic and wore the Persian girdle, common to the great eastern rulers. This change was highly unpopular with his countrymen. One night at a feast in one of the Persian fortresses, Clitis, the foster brother and dear friend of Alexander suddenly sprang up and began to abuse the King. They had all been drinking the strong wines of the country, and stung by the taunts of Clitis, Alexander rose. He snatched a spear, and in a sudden fury dashed it into his foster brother. Clitis sank to the ground, dead. An agony of remorse followed for Alexander. For three days he lay in his tent, neither sleeping nor eating. Till at last they roused him. Is this the Alexander whom the whole world looks to, lying here and weeping like a slave, cried one of his friends, as he beheld the prostrate form of the King? Alexander now turned his eyes towards India, still to the outer world, an unknown land. Strange stories of its wonders had reached the Greek invaders. Stories of monster ants who turned up gold dust from the vast sand deserts. Stories of men clothed in garments made of plated rushes like mats. Of trees that bore wool instead of fruit. Of lakes full of oil. Of giants, dwarfs, and palm trees that touched the skies. Alexander and his army crossed the barriers of the Hindu Kush mountains and entered the plains through which flowed the river Indus. He had again passed from one world into another, a world which was to remain unknown for twenty centuries after the days of Alexander, until the discovery of the Cape of Good Hope should open out a seapath to India. Crossing the Indus by a bridge of boats, he found himself in the district now known as the Punjab, where five rivers meet. On the opposite bank of one of these rivers, a powerful Indian king named Porus disputed his advance. A battle was fought in which the sight and smell of the Indian elephants on which King Porus's men were mounted frightened the Persian horses. Finally, however, Alexander won. The vanquished Indian king was brought before him. He was very tall and majestic, and his bravery in battle had excited the admiration of the king. He inquired of Porus how he would wish to be treated. As a king, was the stern answer. And have you no other request, asked Alexander? No, answered Porus. Everything is included in the word king. So struck was he with this answer that Alexander restored him his kingdom. It was soon after this battle that Alexander lost his beautiful horse Busephalus, the one he had tamed as a boy and which had carried him ever sense. The poor beast died of age and weariness, and the king built a city to its memory on the banks of the river, which monument survives today, the city of Jallipur. Alexander longed to press on and see all the wonders of India and the Great River Ganges, but the Macedonians were weary of the march and absolutely refused to go another step farther. Their clothes were worn out, and they had to wrap their bodies in Indian rags. The hoofs of their horses were rubbed away by the long rough marches, their arms were blunted and broken, and the king with unexplored lands yet before him had to turn back. He reached Babylon in the spring of 324 and at once began to fortify it, as the capital of his new and mighty empire. Here he held his court, seated on the golden throne of the Persians with a golden canopy studded with emeralds and precious stones. Here he received people from every known country. Here he stood at the highest point of glory, knowing not how near the end was. While he was preparing for the conquest of Arabia, he was taken with a violent fever. He lay in bed eagerly discussing details, but he grew rapidly worse. In the cool of one June evening, while the fever was yet raging, they carried him to the river and rode him across to a garden villa. As he grew worse, they took him back to the palace. One by one, the Macedonian soldiers filed past the bed of their young and dying king. He was too ill to speak to them. A few days later, Alexander the Great lay dead at the early age of thirty-three. Into thirteen years he had compressed the energies of a lifetime, for in that short time he had doubled the area of the world as known to the Greeks of his day. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. On the shores of the Great Sea by M. B. Singh. Chapter 41 Alexander's City Forward, backward, backward, forward, in the immeasurable sea, swayed by vast her ebbs and flows and can be known to you or me. Tennyson Alexander the Great was dead, and with his death the mighty Empire of the East, and he had founded, crumbled away. But the city, called by his name in Egypt, lived and thrived. There was a curious story told about the founding of Alexandria. The king had already staked out a piece of ground on which to build his Grecian city when he had a dream. In his sleep he saw an old gray-headed man whom he recognized as Homer. Standing over him, the Greek poet said, an island lies where now the Billows were. Pheros they call it on the Egyptian shore. Alexander got up and went off to Pheros at once. He found there a little island at the mouth of the River Nile, and at once saw how suitable a place this was for a port. Here was a long neck of land stretching like an isthmus between large lagoons on one side and the sea on the other. Hence there was a harbour on the seaside, sheltered by the island of Pheros, and one on the other side, opening to the Nile. The place seemed to be the meeting point of the whole Nile region with the Mediterranean world. The king ordered that a plan of the city should be marked out, but the soil was black and they had no chalk, so they laid out the lines with flour. Suddenly a number of birds rose up from the lagoons like a black cloud, and pecked up every morsel of the flour. At first the king was troubled, but he soon took heart again when the prophets told him that it was a sign that the new city would be the feeder of many nations. So the city rose. It was joined to the island of Pheros by a causeway of a mile long, and its greatness as a mart of the world must have far surpassed the wildest dreams of Alexander. He had opened up new channels of trade and raised fresh wants and fresh hopes for each country he conquered. In the vast tracks of country through which he had passed, he had founded Greek cities and colonies peopled by Greeks who taught the eastern folk something of trade and habits of industry. Thus new articles of commerce of which the western world knew nothing were brought to light. A commentary was discovered from which paper could be made. Shores were created from the hair of the goats found in Tibet. Rice was brought from India, and wine was made from the juice of palms. In the foundation of Alexandria the king showed he was keenly alive to the value of commerce between Europe and the east, but more important still he was the first to see that the command of the sea is necessary to the possession of land. So vessels plied up and down the Mediterranean sea backwards and forwards, bringing merchandise to Alexandria, trading with Athens, with Carthage, with Syracuse, with Rome, with the east, until the city grew and grew. A wonderful lighthouse of white marble was built on the island of Pheros, 400 feet high, which was reckoned among the seven wonders of the world. Fires were lit on its summit to guide the vessels safely into port, and today a modern lighthouse stands on the same spot, flashing out its light far over the dark waters, to guide the great steamers on their way from Europe to India. Heavy and round were the old ships that were used for the merchant service in those days. Many a one might be seen in the port of Alexandria with its single sail, its curly prowl, and the eye painted on either side to ward off ill luck. Often enough these ships were painted bright colors, blue, purple, and red. They must have looked quaint enough as they put out to see in the fine summer weather. They could only sail for certain months in the year. For 50 days before the end of the harvest is the time for sailing, says an old writer. Then you will not let your ship nor will the sea wash down your crew. In that season winds are steady and ocean kind. With mind at rest launch your ship and stow your freight but make all speed to return home and await not to a winter approaches and the terrible south wind stirs the waves and makes the sea crawl. In the port of Alexandria too, as well as on the seas, might be seen some of the Greek warships known as triremes. They were built with three rows of benches, one above another, on each bench two rowers, so that sometimes there were as many as 170 rowers in the ship. It was all very different in those days to what it is now, when no ship is rowed at sea, save near the coast. Winter and summer through night and through day the great steamships of all countries ride the rough seas, carrying cargoes from one land to another. End of Chapter 41 Chapter 42 of On the Shores of the Great Sea This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Ruth Golding On the Shores of the Great Sea by M. B. Singh Chapter 42 Back to Rome again The Gaul shall come against thee from the land of snow and night. Thou shalt give his fair-haired armies to the raven and the kite. Macaulay We left Rome, struggling to assert herself above the neighbouring tribes of Italy. But she had further struggles before her, before she should be free and great, great enough to conquer even Greece herself. Some hundred years had passed away since the death of the traitor Coriolanus and one Camillus was now dictator. And now some new foes began to sweep down from the north towards Rome. They were known to the Romans as the Gauls, a fierce and savage people who loved fighting. They were tall, strong men with fair hair, unlike the dark Romans. They dressed in bright colours with gold collars round their necks, carrying round shields and huge broadswords. Over the Alps came these savage warriors on and on towards Rome herself. No one had ever seen the like of them before and the Romans grew very much alarmed when they heard the Gauls shouting out their war songs and clashing their arms like barbarians. A fight took place near Rome in which the Gauls were victorious and Brennus, the king of the Gauls, led his rough army into Rome. To their surprise they found the city empty. Terror had seized the Romans. They had no hope of defending their city, so they made their way with their women and children to the capital, a steep rocky hill defended with strong walls, the great national temple of old Rome where they hoped to be safe. The city itself was empty save for a few infirm and sick people, a little garrison, and eighty old senators who determined to sit still in the forum and await the foe. They were too old to flee. They thought if they sacrificed themselves to the gods, the city would be saved. They dressed themselves in their splendid robes of state and sat down in a row with their ivory staves in their hands on their ivory chairs to await what they knew must be their end. The savage Gauls burst into Rome. When they came to the forum, they stood amazed at the sight of the eighty grand old men sitting calm and still in their chairs. One of the Gauls put out his hand to touch one of the long white beards, but the old man resented it and struck the rude soldier with his ivory staff. At this the Gaul instantly drew his sword and killed the old Roman. Then the slaughter began. The Gauls killed the old men, plundered their houses, and then attacked the capital. The Romans let them come halfway up, and then hurled them down the steep rocks. As they could not take the capital by force, the Gauls now laid siege to it. Time went on, and the brave Romans were nearly starved, shut up in the lofty capital and surrounded by their enemies. At last a Roman made his way through the Gauls at night, climbed the steep rock to the capital, and told the weary garrison that Camillus was coming with an army to rescue them. Then he slid down the rock and made his way back safely. But the broken twigs and torn ivy showed the Gauls that the capital had been scaled, what man had done man could do. So King Brennus sent up some of his men by night in tombs. They crept up silently, but just as they came to the top some geese began to cackle and scream, and a Roman ran out to see what was the matter. There he saw a tall Gaul standing on the wall at the top of the rock, rushing at him he struck him such a blow that knocked him right off the wall and down the rocks, and no other Gauls dared to climb up. But in the end the Romans won, for Camillus arrived on the scene, defeated the Gauls, took their camp, and not a man was left to carry back the news to their own country. So Rome shook herself free once more, and Camillus was always known as the second founder of Rome, for he had saved his city from the Gauls. CHAPTER 43 A GREAT CONFLICT The Greek shall come against thee, the conqueror of the east, Macaulay, as the years rolled on the power of Rome grew greater. While King Alexander was conquering in the east, she was subduing tribe after tribe in Italy. But still on the seacoasts of the south there were many towns built by the Greeks who had sailed over the sea and settled there. Now there was a quarrel between the Greeks of a city called Tarentum and the Romans. The people of Tarentum, unable to defend themselves against so powerful a foe as Rome, sent to the mother country for help. One winter's night, in the midst of a boisterous storm, the waves of the Mediterranean washed upon the shores of southern Italy a brave man. He was more dead than alive, for he had thrown himself overboard from the prow of a royal Greek ship, and had been sorely buffeted by the wind and the waves. They had no respect for a royal crown. They knew not that he was a king ruling over a strong people, and that he had left his kingdom, with thousands of archers and footmen and knights, together with a quantity of huge elephants. It was no less a person than Pyrrhus, king of a part of Greece. He had taken Alexander the Great as his model, and already conquered Macedonia. Hearing that his fellow countrymen were in trouble with the Romans, he made up his mind to go and help them, and this is how he came to be voyaging in haste to Italy, and how he came to be shipwrecked on this winter's night. Before he started, one of his counselors asked the king what he should do if he beat the Romans, who were reputed great warriors. The Romans overcome, answered the king, no city would dare to oppose me, and I should be master of all Italy. And Italy conquered, what next? asked the counselor. Sicily next holed out her arms to receive us, he answered. She is a wealthy and populace island and easy to be gained. And what next? asked the counselor again. There is Africa and Carthage, said the king. Then I should be able to master all Greece. And then continued the counselor. Then I would live at ease, eat and drink all day, and enjoy a pleasant conversation. And what hinders you now from taking the ease that you are planning to take after so much risk and bloodshed? Pyrrhus could not answer this question. His ambition to be like the great king Alexander led him on. Once landed on the shores of Italy, he marched to Tarentum. There he found an idle colony of Greeks given up to pleasure. Pyrrhus soon shut up their places of amusement and trained the young men as soldiers. A great battle took place. The Romans could easily see which was the Greek king by his splendid armor and scarlet mantle. So marked was he that presently he gave his glittering arms and mantle to one of his officers, knowing well that if he were killed the Romans would easily win the day. The battle was long and fierce. The officer wearing the king's scarlet mantle was suddenly killed. The Greeks thought that Pyrrhus was killed and began to retreat, but the king threw off his helmet, rode bareheaded through the ranks, and rallied his soldiers. Then he ordered a charge of the elephants. The Romans had never seen these monsters in battle before. Their horses were terrified in the same way that Alexander's had been in the battle with Porus, the Indian king, and they turned and flared in confusion. When Pyrrhus looked at the field of battle and saw the Romans lying dead with their faces to the foe, he cried out, Oh, how easy would it be for me to conquer the world if I had the Romans for my soldiers. The following year another great battle was fought between the Greeks and Romans. But the Romans no longer feared the elephants in battle, for they had learned that these animals are afraid of fire. They got ready bundles of sticks dipped in pitch, which they lighted and threw among them. The elephants were terrified of the fire. They turned round and ran wildly about among the Greeks, trampling down a great many and killing more. So the battle ended. Pyrrhus fled at once from Italy and sailed away to Greece. And Rome gloried in her victory. The houses were decked with flowers. Every window was filled with faces. The streets were crowded to see the great procession wending its way to the capital. First in the procession walked the senators. Then, guarded by Roman soldiers, came the spoils taken from the Greeks. Piled high on wagons. Beautiful pictures and statues, robes and armour were there, together with all sorts of things made by the skillful Greeks and never even seen by the simple Romans. Here too were the great elephants seen for the first time in the streets of Rome. There were soldiers of Greece too, the finest foot soldiers in the world. And at last came a triumphal car in which sat the Roman general who had gained this victory for his country. He wore a splendid mantel embroidered with gold, he was crowned with a laurel wreath and in his right hand he carried a laurel bow. Behind him wrote his officers with laurel garlands twisted round their spears, singing the praises of their successful general. So the Romans mounted the steep way to the capital to give thanks to their god for the victory and deliverance from the Greeks.