Cimon

Cimon, son of Miltiades, an Athenian, met with a very harsh beginning of his youth. For since his father had not been able to pay to the people the fine that had been assessed, and on that account had died in the public prison, Cimon was held in the same custody and could not be released under the laws of the Athenians unless he paid the money with which his father had been fined. Now he had in marriage his own full sister, named Elpinice, led to it no more by love than by custom: for it is permitted to the Athenians to take as wives women born of the same father. A certain Callias, eager for this match — a man not so noble as wealthy, who had made great sums from the mines — treated with Cimon that he should give her to him as his wife: if he obtained this, he would pay the money for him. When Cimon spurned such a condition, Elpinice said that she would not suffer the offspring of Miltiades to perish in the public prison, since she could prevent it, and that she would marry Callias, if he made good what he promised.

Freed in this way from custody, Cimon quickly rose to the leading place. For he had eloquence enough, the highest generosity, and great prudence both in civil law and in military affairs, since from boyhood he had been engaged with his father in the armies. And so he both held the city populace in his power and was of the greatest authority among the army. As commander he first put to flight great forces of Thracians by the river Strymon, founded the town of Amphipolis, and sent thither ten thousand Athenians as colonists. The same man, again as commander, conquered and captured at Mycale a fleet of two hundred ships of the Cyprians and Phoenicians, and on the same day had like fortune on land. For when the enemy's ships had been taken, he straightway led his forces out of the fleet and overthrew the greatest host of the barbarians at a single onset. Having by this victory gained great booty, when he was returning home — because some islands had now revolted on account of the harshness of the empire — he confirmed in their loyalty those that were well disposed, and forced back to their duty those that had been alienated. Scyros, which at that time the Dolopes inhabited, because they had behaved too defiantly, he emptied of its people, drove the old possessors from the city and the island, and divided the lands among his fellow-citizens. The Thasians, relying on their wealth, he crushed by his coming. From these spoils the citadel of Athens, on the side that faces south, was adorned.

Although for these deeds he flourished above all others in the state, he fell into the same envy as his father and the other leading men of the Athenians: for by the votes of the potsherds, which they call ostracism, he was punished with an exile of ten years. Of this deed the Athenians repented sooner than he himself. For when he, with brave spirit, had yielded to the envy of his ungrateful fellow-citizens, and the Lacedaemonians had declared war upon the Athenians, there straightway followed a longing for his well-known valour. And so in the fifth year after he had been banished he was recalled to his country. He, because he enjoyed the guest-friendship of the Lacedaemonians, thinking it better that the states of Greece should settle their disputes among themselves by law rather than contend by arms, set out of his own accord to Lacedaemon and brought about peace between the two most powerful states. Afterwards, and not much later, being sent as commander to Cyprus with two hundred ships, when he had conquered the greater part of the island, he fell into a sickness and died in the assault on the town of Citium.

The Athenians missed him long, not only in war but also in peace. For he was of such generosity that, although he had estates and gardens in many places, he never set a guard over them to preserve their produce, lest anyone be hindered from enjoying those things which each man wished. Always attendants followed him with money, so that, if anyone needed his help, he might have what to give at once, lest by putting it off he should seem to refuse. Often, when he saw someone, struck by misfortune, less well clothed, he gave him his own cloak. Daily his dinner was so prepared that whomever he saw uninvited in the market-place, he called them all to himself, which he failed to do on no day. To none was his good faith, to none his service, to none his estate wanting: he enriched many, and many poor men who at their death had left nothing wherewith they might be buried, he buried at his own expense. Bearing himself thus, it is not at all to be wondered at if both his life was secure and his death was bitter to all.