The Historians' History of the World 03

For the two or three months immediately succeeding the final resolution taken by the Athenians to invade Sicily, the whole city was elate and bustling with preparation. The prophets, circulators of oracles, and other accredited religious advisers, announced generally the favourable dispositions of the gods, and promised a triumphant result. All classes in the city, rich and poor,—cultivators, traders, and seamen,—old and young, all embraced the project with ardour; as requiring a great effort, yet promising unparalleled results, both of public aggrandisement and individual gain. Each man was anxious to put down his own name for personal service; so that the three generals, Nicias, Alcibiades, and Lamachus, when they proceeded to make their selection of hoplites, instead of being forced to employ constraint or incur ill-will, as happened when an expedition was adopted reluctantly with many dissentients, had only to choose the fittest among a throng of eager volunteers.

Such efforts were much facilitated by the fact that five years had now elapsed since the Peace of Nicias, without any considerable warlike operations. While the treasury had become replenished with fresh accumulations, and the triremes increased in number, the military population, reinforced by additional numbers of youth, had forgotten both the hardships of the war and the pressure of epidemic disease. Hence the fleet now got together, while it surpassed in number all previous armaments of Athens, except a single one in the second year of the previous war under Pericles, was incomparably superior even to that, and still more superior to all the rest in the other ingredients of force, material as well as moral, in picked men, universal ardour, ships as well as arms in the best condition, and accessories of every kind in abundance. Such was the confidence of success, that many Athenians went prepared for trade as well as for combat; so that the private stock, thus added to the public outfit and to the sums placed in the hands of the generals, constituted an unparalleled aggregate of wealth. After between two and three months of active preparations, the expedition was almost ready to start, when an event happened which fatally poisoned the prevalent cheerfulness of the city. This was the mutilation of the Hermæ, one of the most extraordinary events in all Grecian history.

[415 B.C.]

The Hermæ, or half-statues of the god Hermes, were blocks of marble about the height of the human figure. The upper part was cut into a head, face, neck, and bust; the lower part was left as a quadrangular pillar, broad at the base, without arms, body, or legs, but with the significant mark of the male sex in front. They were distributed in great numbers throughout Athens, and always in the most conspicuous situations. The religious feeling of the Greeks considered the god to be planted or domiciliated where his statue stood, so that the companionship, sympathy, and guardianship of Hermes became associated with most of the manifestations of conjunct life at Athens, political, social, commercial, or gymnastic.