Chapter 1

(In the preceding pages of the narrative will be found a full account, not only of the doings of the Hellenes during the advance of Cyrus till the date of the battle, but of the incidents which befell them after Cyrus' death at the commencement of the retreat, while in company with Tissaphernes during the truce.)

(The preceding pages give a full account of what the Hellenes did during Cyrus' advance up to the battle. They also recount what happened to the Hellenes after Cyrus' death, at the start of the retreat, while they were with Tissaphernes during the truce.)

After the generals had been seized, and the captains and soldiers who formed their escort had been killed, the Hellenes lay in deep perplexity—a prey to painful reflections. Here were they at the king's gates, and on every side environing them were many hostile cities and tribes of men. Who was there now to furnish them with a market? Separated from Hellas by more than a thousand miles, they had not even a guide to point the way. Impassable rivers lay athwart their homeward route, and hemmed them in. Betrayed even by the Asiatics, at whose side they had marched with Cyrus to the attack, they were left in isolation. Without a single mounted trooper to aid them in pursuit: was it not perfectly plain that if they won a battle, their enemies would escape to a man, but if they were beaten themselves, not one soul of them would survive?

After the generals had been seized and their escort of captains and soldiers killed, the Hellenes were at a loss. They were tormented by painful thoughts. They were at the king's gates, surrounded on every side by hostile cities and tribes. Who would now supply them with a market? They were more than a thousand miles from Hellas and had no guide to show them the way. Impassable rivers blocked their route home and hemmed them in. Even the Asiatics, alongside whom they had marched with Cyrus to attack, had betrayed them. They were left alone. They had no mounted soldiers to help them pursue an enemy. Was it not perfectly clear that if they won a battle, every enemy would escape? But if they were defeated, not one of them would survive.

Haunted by such thoughts, and with hearts full of despair, but few of them tasted food that evening; but few of them kindled even a fire, and many never came into camp at all that night, but took their rest where each chanced to be. They could not close their eyes for very pain and yearning after their fatherlands or their parents, the wife or child whom they never expected to look upon again. Such was the plight in which each and all tried to seek repose.

Haunted by these thoughts and filled with despair, few of them ate that evening. Few even lit a fire, and many never came into camp that night. Instead, they rested wherever they happened to be. They could not sleep, so great was their pain and longing for their homelands and their parents, wives, or children. They never expected to see them again. Such was the state in which they all tried to rest.

Now there was in that host a certain man, an Athenian¹, Xenophon, who had accompanied Cyrus, neither as a general, nor as an officer, nor yet as a private soldier, but simply on the invitation of an old friend, Proxenus. This old friend had sent to fetch him from home, promising, if he would come, to introduce him to Cyrus, "whom," said Proxenus, "I consider to be worth my fatherland and more to me."

In the army was an Athenian¹ named Xenophon. He had joined Cyrus not as a general, officer, or private soldier, but simply at the invitation of an old friend, Proxenus. Proxenus had sent for him, promising to introduce him to Cyrus if he came. "I consider him worth my homeland and more to me," Proxenus said.

Xenophon having read the letter, consulted Socrates the Athenian, whether he should accept or refuse the invitation. Socrates, who had a suspicion that the State of Athens might in some way look askance at my friendship with Cyrus, whose zealous co-operation with the Lacedaemonians against Athens in the war was not forgotten, advised Xenophon to go to Delphi and there to consult the god as to the desirability of such a journey. Xenophon went and put the question to Apollo, to which of the gods he must pray and do sacrifice, so that he might best accomplish his intended journey and return in safety, with good fortune. Then Apollo answered him: "To such and such gods must thou do sacrifice," and when he had returned home he reported to Socrates the oracle. But he, when he heard, blamed Xenophon that he had not, in the first instance, inquired of the god, whether it were better for him to go or to stay, but had taken on himself to settle that point affirmatively, by inquiring straightway, how he might best perform the journey. "Since, however," continued Socrates, "you did so put the question, you should do what the god enjoined." Thus, and without further ado, Xenophon offered sacrifice to those whom the god had named, and set sail on his voyage. He overtook Proxenus and Cyrus at Sardis, when they were just ready to start on the march up country, and was at once introduced to Cyrus. Proxenus eagerly pressed him to stop—a request which Cyrus with like ardour supported, adding that as soon as the campaign was over he would send him home. The campaign referred to was understood to be against the Pisidians. That is how Xenophon came to join the expedition, deceived indeed, though not by Proxenus, who was equally in the dark with the rest of the Hellenes, not counting Clearchus, as to the intended attack upon the king. Then, though the majority were in apprehension of the journey, which was not at all to their minds, yet, for very shame of one another and Cyrus, they continued to follow him, and with the rest went Xenophon.

After reading the letter, Xenophon consulted Socrates the Athenian about whether to accept or refuse the invitation. Socrates suspected that the State of Athens might look askance at my friendship with Cyrus. Athens had not forgotten Cyrus’s eager cooperation with the Lacedaemonians against Athens in the war. Socrates advised Xenophon to go to Delphi and ask the god whether he should make the journey. Xenophon went to Delphi and put a question to Apollo. He asked which gods he should pray and sacrifice to, so that he could best complete his intended journey. He also wanted to return safely and with good fortune. Apollo answered him: "You must sacrifice to such and such gods." When Xenophon returned home, he reported the oracle to Socrates. But Socrates blamed him for not first asking the god whether it was better to go or stay. Instead, Xenophon had decided to go and asked straight away how best to make the journey. "Since, however," Socrates continued, "you asked the question that way, you should do what the god instructed." So Xenophon sacrificed to the gods Apollo had named and set sail without further delay. He caught up with Proxenus and Cyrus at Sardis, just as they were ready to march inland. He was introduced to Cyrus at once. Proxenus eagerly urged him to stay, and Cyrus urged him just as strongly. Cyrus added that he would send Xenophon home as soon as the campaign was over. The campaign was understood to be against the Pisidians. That is how Xenophon came to join the expedition. He had been deceived, though not by Proxenus. Proxenus knew no more about the planned attack on the king than the other Hellenes, apart from Clearchus. Most of them were worried about the journey and did not like it at all. Yet they continued to follow Cyrus because they were ashamed to refuse, both before one another and before him. Xenophon went with the rest.

And now in this season of perplexity, he too, with the rest, was in sore distress, and could not sleep; but anon, getting a snatch of sleep, he had a dream. It seemed to him in a vision that there was a storm of thunder and lightning, and a bolt fell on his father's house, and thereupon the house was all in a blaze. He sprung up in terror, and pondering the matter, decided that in part the dream was good: in that he had seen a great light from Zeus, whilst in the midst of toil and danger. But partly too he feared it, for evidently it had come from Zeus the king. And the fire kindled all around—what could that mean but that he was hemmed in by various perplexities, and so could not escape from the country of the king? The full meaning, however, is to be discovered from what happened after the dream.

At this time of uncertainty, he too was deeply troubled, like the others, and could not sleep. But when he finally slept for a short while, he had a dream. He dreamed of a thunderstorm, and lightning struck his father's house, setting the whole house ablaze. He jumped up in terror and thought about the dream. He decided that it was partly a good sign. He had seen a great light from Zeus while he was surrounded by hardship and danger. But he also partly feared the dream, for it had clearly come from Zeus the king. And what could the fire burning all around mean? Surely it meant that he was surrounded by troubles and could not escape from the king's country. The full meaning of the dream, however, can be learned from what happened afterward.

This is what took place. As soon as he was fully awake, the first clear thought which came into his head was, Why am I lying here? The night advances; with the day, it is like enough, the enemy will be upon us. If we are to fall into the hands of the king, what is left us but to face the most horrible of sights, and to suffer the most fearful pains, and then to die, insulted, an ignominious death? To defend ourselves—to ward off that fate—not a hand stirs: no one is preparing, none cares; but here we lie, as though it were time to rest and take our ease. I too! what am I waiting for? a general to undertake the work? and from what city? am I waiting till I am older mysef and of riper age? older I shall never be, if to-day I betray myself to my enemies.

This is what happened. As soon as he was fully awake, his first clear thought was: Why am I lying here? The night is passing, and the enemy will probably be upon us at daybreak. If we fall into the king's hands, what can we expect? We will see the most horrible sights, suffer the worst pain, and then die a shameful death amid insults. Yet no one is lifting a hand to defend us or prevent that fate. No one is preparing, and no one cares. Instead, we lie here as if it were time to rest and relax. And what am I waiting for? A general to take charge? From what city? Am I waiting until I am older and more mature? I will never grow older if I betray myself to my enemies today.

Thereupon he got up, and called together first Proxenus's officers; and when they were met, he said: "Sleep, sirs, I cannot, nor can you, I fancy, nor lie here longer, when I see in what straits we are. Our enemy, we may be sure, did not open war upon us till he felt he had everything amply ready; yet none of us shows a corresponding anxiety to enter the lists of battle in the bravest style.

Then he got up and first called together Proxenus's officers. When they had gathered, he said: "Gentlemen, I cannot sleep, and I imagine you cannot either. Nor can I lie here any longer when I see the danger we are in. We can be sure our enemy did not begin this war until he felt fully prepared. Yet none of us shows the same eagerness to prepare to fight as bravely as possible.

"And yet, if we yield ourselves and fall into the king's power, need we ask what our fate will be? This man, who, when his own brother, the son of the same parents, was dead, was not content with that, but severed head and hand from the body, and nailed them to a cross. We, then, who have not even the tie of blood in our favour, but who marched against him, meaning to make a slave of him instead of a king—and to slay him if we could: what is likely to be our fate at his hands? Will he not go all lengths so that, by inflicting on us the extreme of ignominy and torture, he may rouse in the rest of mankind a terror of ever marching against him any more? There is no question but that our business is to avoid by all means getting into his clutches.

"And yet, if we surrender and fall into the king's hands, do we need to ask what will happen to us? When his own brother, born of the same parents, was dead, the king was not satisfied. He cut off his brother's head and hand and nailed them to a cross. We have no family ties to protect us. Instead, we marched against the king, intending to make him a slave rather than a king, and to kill him if we could. What is he likely to do to us? Surely he will go to any lengths to subject us to the worst humiliation and torture. He will do this to make the rest of mankind afraid to march against him ever again. There is no doubt that we must do everything we can to avoid falling into his hands."

"For my part, all the while the truce lasted, I never ceased pitying ourselves and congratulating the king and those with him, as, like a helpless spectator, I surveyed the extent and quality of their territory, the plenteousness of their provisions, the multitude of their dependants, their cattle, their gold, and their apparel. And then to turn and ponder the condition of our soldiers, without part or lot in these good things, except we bought it; few, I knew, had any longer the wherewithal to buy, and yet our oath held us down, so that we could not provide ourselves otherwise than by purchase. I say, as I reasoned thus, there were times when I dreaded the truce more than I now dread war.

"For my part, throughout the truce, I never stopped pitying ourselves and envying the king and his companions. Like a helpless spectator, I looked at the size and richness of their land. I saw their abundant provisions, their many dependants, their cattle, their gold, and their clothing. Then I considered our soldiers. They had no share in these good things unless we bought them. I knew that few still had the means to buy anything. Yet our oath bound us, so we could obtain supplies only by buying them. As I thought about all this, there were times when I feared the truce more than I now fear war.

"Now, however, that they have abruptly ended the truce, there is an end also to their own insolence and to our suspicion. All these good things of theirs are now set as prizes for the combatants. To whichsoever of us shall prove the better men, will they fall as guerdons; and the gods themselves are the judges of the strife. The gods, who full surely will be on our side, seeing it is our enemies who have taken their names falsely; whilst we, with much to lure us, yet for our oath's sake, and the gods who were our witnesses, sternly held aloof. So that, it seems to me, we have a right to enter upon this contest with much more heart than our foes; and further, we are possessed of bodies more capable than theirs of bearing cold and heat and labour; souls too we have, by the help of heaven, better and braver; nay, the men themselves are more vulnerable, more mortal, than ourselves, if so be the gods vouchsafe to give us victory once again.

"Now, however, they have abruptly ended the truce. Their insolence and our suspicion are at an end too. All their wealth is now a prize for those who fight. It will go as a reward to whichever side proves better, and the gods themselves will judge the contest. Surely the gods will be on our side, since our enemies have sworn falsely by their names. We, though we had much to tempt us, firmly held back for the sake of our oath and the gods who witnessed it. So it seems to me that we have reason to enter this contest with much more courage than our enemies. Our bodies are also better able than theirs to endure cold, heat, and hard work. With heaven's help, we have better and braver souls too. Indeed, our enemies are more vulnerable and mortal than we are, if the gods grant us victory once again."

"Howbeit, for I doubt not elsewhere similar reflections are being made, whatsoever betide, let us not, in heaven's name, wait for others to come and challenge us to noble deeds; let us rather take the lead in stimulating the rest to valour. Show yourselves to be the bravest of officers, and among generals, the worthiest to command. For myself, if you choose to start forwards on this quest, I will follow; or, if you bid me lead you, my age shall be no excuse to stand between me and your orders. At least I am of full age, I take it, to avert misfortune from my own head."

“But I have no doubt that others elsewhere are thinking the same way. Whatever happens, for heaven’s sake, let us not wait for others to call us to noble deeds. Let us lead the way and inspire the rest to courage. Show yourselves to be the bravest officers and the generals most worthy of command. For my part, if you choose to go forward with this task, I will follow. Or, if you order me to lead you, I will not let my age keep me from obeying. At least, I think I am old enough to protect myself from misfortune.”

Such were the speaker's words; and the officers, when they heard, all, with one exception, called upon him to put himself at their head. This was a certain Apollonides there present, who spoke in the Boeotian dialect. This man's opinion was that it was mere nonsense for any one to pretend they could obtain safety otherwise than by an appeal to the king, if he had skill to enforce it; and at the same time he began to dilate on the difficulties. But Xenophon cut him short. "O most marvellous of men! though you have eyes to see, you do not perceive; though you have ears to hear, you do not recollect. You were present with the rest of us now here when, after the death of Cyrus, the king, vaunting himself on that occurrence, sent dictatorially to bid us lay down our arms. But when we, instead of giving up our arms, put them on and went and pitched our camp near him, his manner changed. It is hard to say what he did not do, he was so at his wit's end, sending us embassies and begging for a truce, and furnishing provisions the while, until he had got it. Or to take the contrary instance, when just now, acting precisely on your principles, our generals and captains went, trusting to the truce, unarmed to a conference with them, what came of it? what is happening at this instant? Beaten, goaded with pricks, insulted, poor souls, they cannot even die: though death, I ween, would be very sweet. And you, who know all this, how can you say that it is mere nonsense to talk of self-defence? how can you bid us go again and try the arts of persuasion? In my opinion, sirs, we ought not to admit this fellow to the same rank with ourselves; rather ought we to deprive him of his captaincy, and load him with packs and treat him as such. The man is a disgrace to his own fatherland and the whole of Hellas, that, being a Hellene, he is what he is."

Those were the speaker's words. When the officers heard them, all but one urged him to lead them. The exception was Apollonides, who was present and spoke in the Boeotian dialect. He said it was nonsense to claim they could find safety except by appealing to the king, if they could persuade him. He then began to speak at length about the difficulties. But Xenophon cut him short. "You are an extraordinary man! You have eyes, but you do not see. You have ears, but you do not remember. You were there with the rest of us after Cyrus died. The king, boasting of Cyrus's death, sent a peremptory order for us to lay down our arms. But instead of surrendering our arms, we took them up and pitched camp near him. Then his manner changed. He was so desperate that it is hard to say what he did not do. He sent us envoys, begged for a truce, and supplied us with provisions until he got one. "Now consider the opposite case. Just recently, our generals and captains acted exactly as you advise. Trusting the truce, they went unarmed to a meeting with the king's men. What came of it? What is happening to them at this very moment? They are beaten, pricked with goads, and insulted. The poor men cannot even die, though I believe death would be very sweet to them. You know all this. How, then, can you say it is nonsense to speak of defending ourselves? How can you tell us to go back and try persuasion again? "Gentlemen, I think we should not let this fellow remain in our ranks. We should strip him of his captaincy, load him with packs, and treat him as a pack bearer. The man is a disgrace to his own country and to all of Hellas. He is a Hellene, yet he behaves like this."

Here Agasias the Stymphalian broke in, exclaiming: "Nay, this fellow has no connection either with Boeotia or with Hellas, none whatever. I have noted both his ears bored like a Lydian's." And so it was. Him then they banished. But the rest visited the ranks, and wherever a general was left, they summoned the general; where he was gone, the lieutenant-general; and where again the captain alone was left, the captain. As soon as they were all met, they seated themselves in front of the place d'armes: the assembled generals and officers, numbering about a hundred. It was nearly midnight when this took place.

Here Agasias the Stymphalian interrupted, exclaiming: "No, this fellow has no connection with Boeotia or Hellas, none at all. I noticed that both his ears are pierced like a Lydian's." And it was true. So they banished him. The others went through the ranks and summoned the general wherever one remained. Where the general was gone, they summoned the lieutenant-general. Where only the captain remained, they summoned him. When they had all gathered, the generals and officers sat down in front of the assembly ground. There were about a hundred of them. It was nearly midnight.

Thereupon Hieronymous the Eleian, the eldest of Proxenus's captains, commenced speaking as follows: "Generals and captains, it seemed right to us, in view of the present crisis, ourselves to assemble and to summon you, that we might advise upon some practicable course. Would you, Xenophon, repeat what you said to us?"

Then Hieronymous the Eleian, the eldest of Proxenus's captains, began to speak: "Generals and captains, given the present crisis, we thought it best to meet and summon you. We wanted to discuss a practical course of action. Xenophon, would you repeat what you said to us?"

Thereupon Xenophon spoke as follows: "We all know only too well, that the king and Tissaphernes have seized as many of us as they could, and it is clear they are plotting to destroy the rest of us if they can. Our business is plain: it is to do all we can to avoid getting into the power of the barbarians; rather, if we can, we will get them into our power. Rely upon this then, all you who are here assembled, now is your great opportunity. The soldiers outside have their eyes fixed upon you; if they think that you are faint-hearted, they will turn cowards; but if you show them that you are making your own preparations to attack the enemy, and setting an example to the rest—follow you, be assured, they will: imitate you they will. May be, it is but right and fair that you should somewhat excel them, for you are generals, you are commanders of brigades or regiments; and if, while it was peace, you had the advantage in wealth and position, so now, when it is war, you are expected to rise superior to the common herd—to think for them, to toil for them, whenever there be need.

Then Xenophon spoke: "We all know only too well that the king and Tissaphernes have seized as many of us as they could. Clearly, they are plotting to destroy the rest of us if they can. Our task is plain: we must do everything we can to avoid falling into the power of the barbarians. Instead, if we can, we will bring them under our power. "All of you gathered here can be sure of this: now is your great opportunity. The soldiers outside are watching you. If they think you have lost heart, they will become cowards. But show them that you are preparing to attack the enemy and setting an example for the rest. You can be sure they will follow you and imitate you. "Perhaps it is only right and fair that you should be somewhat better than they are. After all, you are generals and commanders of brigades or regiments. In peacetime, you had greater wealth and higher positions. So now, in wartime, you are expected to rise above the common soldiers. You must think and work for them whenever necessary.

"At this very moment you would confer a great boon on the army, if you made it your business to appoint generals and officers to fill the places of those that are lost. For without leaders nothing good or noble, to put it concisely, was ever wrought anywhere; and in military matters this is absolutely true; for if discipline is held to be of saving virtue, the want of it has been the ruin of many ere now. Well, then! when you have appointed all the commanders necessary, it would only be opportune, I take it, if you were to summon the rest of the soldiers and speak some words of encouragement. Even now, I daresay you noticed yourselves the crestfallen air with which they came into camp, the despondency with which they fell to picket duty, so that, unless there is a change for the better, I do not know for what service they will be fit; whether by night, if need were, or even by day. The thing is to get them to turn their thoughts to what they mean to do, instead of to what they are likely to suffer. Do that, and their spirits will soon revive wonderfully. You know, I need hardly remind you, it is not numbers or strength that gives victory in war; but, heaven helping them, to one or other of two combatants it is given to dash with stouter hearts to meet the foe, and such onset, in nine cases out of ten, those others refuse to meet. This observation, also, I have laid to heart, that they, who in matters of war seek in all ways to save their lives, are just they who, as a rule, die dishonourably; whereas they who, recognising that death is the common lot and destiny of all men, strive hard to die nobly: these more frequently, as I observe, do after all attain to old age, or, at any rate, while life lasts, they spend their days more happily. This lesson let all lay to heart this day, for we are just at such a crisis of our fate. Now is the season to be brave ourselves, and to stimulate the rest by our example."

"Right now, you would do the army a great service by appointing generals and officers to replace those we have lost. In short, nothing good or noble has ever been achieved anywhere without leaders. This is absolutely true in military matters. Discipline is believed to save lives, and a lack of it has ruined many armies before now. Once you have appointed all the necessary commanders, it would be a good time, I think, to call the remaining soldiers together and encourage them. I expect you noticed how dejected they looked when they came into camp. You saw how discouraged they were when they went on picket duty. Unless their spirits improve, I do not know what service they will be fit for, whether by night, if necessary, or even by day. We must get them to think about what they intend to do instead of what they are likely to suffer. Do that, and their spirits will soon improve remarkably. I hardly need to remind you that numbers and strength do not bring victory in war. Rather, with heaven's help, one side or the other charges the enemy with greater courage. Nine times out of ten, the other side refuses to meet such an attack. I have also taken another observation to heart. Those who try in every way to save their lives in war are usually the ones who die dishonorably. Others recognize that death is the common fate of all men and strive to die nobly. I have observed that they more often live to old age after all. At any rate, they live more happily for as long as life lasts. Let everyone take this lesson to heart today, for we are at just such a crisis in our fate. Now is the time to be brave ourselves and encourage the others by our example."

With these words he ceased; and after him, Cheirisophus said: "Xenophon, hitherto I knew only so much of you as that you were, I heard, an Athenian, but now I must commend you for your words and for your conduct. I hope that there may be many more like you, for it would prove a public blessing." Then turning to the officers: "And now," said he, "let us waste no time; retire at once, I beg you, and choose leaders where you need them. After you have made your elections, come back to the middle of the camp, and bring the newly appointed officers. After that, we will there summon a general meeting of the soldiers. Let Tolmides, the herald," he added, "be in attendance." With these words on his lips he got up, in order that what was needful might be done at once without delay. After this the generals were chosen. These were Timasion the Dardanian, in place of Clearchus; Xanthicles, an Achaean, in place of Socrates; Cleanor, an Arcadian, in place of Agias; Philesius, an Achaean, in place of Menon; and in place of Proxenus, Xenophon the Athenian.

With these words, he stopped speaking. Cheirisophus then said: "Xenophon, until now, all I knew of you was that I had heard you were an Athenian. But now I must praise you for your words and your actions. I hope there will be many more like you, for that would benefit everyone." Then he turned to the officers. "Now," he said, "let us waste no time. Please go at once and choose leaders wherever you need them. Once you have made your choices, return to the middle of the camp with the newly appointed officers. Then we will call a general meeting of the soldiers there. Let Tolmides, the herald, be there too." As he said this, he stood up so that the necessary work could begin at once. The generals were then chosen. Timasion the Dardanian replaced Clearchus. Xanthicles, an Achaean, replaced Socrates. Cleanor, an Arcadian, replaced Agias. Philesius, an Achaean, replaced Menon. Xenophon the Athenian replaced Proxenus.