is designs, the vigilant ephors despatched to him a herald with
the famous scytale. This was an instrument peculiar to the Spartans.
To every general or admiral, a long black staff was entrusted; the
magistrates kept another exactly similar. When they had any
communication to make, they wrote it on a roll of parchment, applied
it to their own staff, fold upon fold--then cutting it off, dismissed
it to the chief. The characters were so written that they were
confused and unintelligible until fastened to the stick, and thus
could only be construed by the person for whose eye they were
intended, and to whose care the staff was confided.

The communication Pausanias now received was indeed stern and laconic.
"Stay," it said, "behind the herald, and war is proclaimed against you
by the Spartans."

On receiving this solemn order, even the imperious spirit of Pausanias
did not venture to disobey. Like Venice, whose harsh, tortuous, but
energetic policy her oligarchy in so many respects resembled, Sparta
possessed a moral and mysterious power over the fiercest of her sons.
His fate held him in her grasp, and, confident of acquittal, instead
of flying to Persia, the regent hurried to his doom, assured that by
the help of gold he could baffle any accusation. His expectations
were so far well-founded, that, although, despite his rank as regent
of the kingdom and guardian of the king, he was thrown into prison by
the ephors, he succeeded, by his intrigues and influence, in procuring
his enlargement: and boldly challenging his accusers, he offered to
submit to trial.

The government, however, was slow to act. The proud caution of the
Spartans was ever loath to bring scandal on their home by public
proceedings against any freeborn citizen--how much more against the
uncle of their monarch and the hero of their armies! His power, his
talents, his imperious character awed alike private enmity and public
distrust. But his haughty disdain of their rigid laws, and his
continued affectation of the barbarian pomp, kept the government
vigilant; and though released from prison, the stern ephors were his
sentinels. The restless and discontented mind of the expectant
son-in-law of Xerxes could not relinquish its daring schemes. And the
regent of Sparta entered into a conspiracy, on which it were much to
be desired that our information were more diffuse.

VI. Perhaps no class of men in ancient times excite a more painful
and profo