Alkibiades, a tale of the Great Athenian War

by Charles Hamilton Bromby

It seems scarcely credible that these unproved, unfounded accusations could have been listened to and believed by a people like the Athenians, who had often shown clearness of vision in the management of their own affairs. In answer to the charge of delay it must have been pointed out that, as they had not provided pay for their large armament, the general was obliged to seek money where he could, and, while seeking it, could not blockade the enemy with all his force at Ephesos. The second charge refuted the first. He went to Phokaia, to begin with the subjugation of that important city the reduction of the faithless Ionian towns. He could not do more than leave as many ships as he could spare to keep up the blockade of the enemy at Ephesos. He could not do more than appoint one on whose obedience and discretion he had good reason to suppose he could rely to keep that fleet quietly on the watch while he was absent, and it was not his fault that his orders to that effect were not obeyed. And if a general was to be judged in his absence, without an opportunity of being heard, on the unsupported tale of a private soldier in his army, who had some fancied grievance, some dislike, occasioned by the necessary discipline of war, it might be asked, what general could long remain at his post or carry out his duties? We hear only of these complaints, nothing of the answers which must have been made by the friends of Alkibiades.

His enemies even dared to rake up the old stupid stories about the mutilation of the images and the profanation of the mysteries of Eleusis by him who had a few months before done such great service to both deities, and permitted the people to renew their solemn observances in their honour. As an instance of the kind of charges that were brought against him, we may notice it was seriously said that he was guilty of impiety in having dared to return in pomp to Athens on the day that the statues of Athene were being washed. Such were the kind of accusations the enemy could find to bring, such the charges to which the fickle people listened. They decreed the deposition of the warrior and statesman whom they had lately made absolute strategos of their forces; they elected ten others in his place, and ordered them straightway to Samos to assume their functions.

The new generals, with Konon at their head, found Alkibiades in the midst of busy preparations, determined, as soon as possible, and in spite of every obstacle, to wipe off the slight disgrace which, in his absence, the Athenian fleet had suffered.

On showing their credentials, he at once handed over his command to Konon, and immediately left Samos, and with him departed the fortune, the glory, and the liberty of Athens, as though she had become unworthy of these blessings. They did not deign to visit her again.

We who have followed the story of his life till now, and have endeavoured, as far as may be possible, after more than two thousand years have passed away, to gain some insight into the working of his soul; we who have seen him suffering under similar injustice, and know how these wrongs, and only these, could greatly stir his spirit, and change for a time a loyal and kindly nature into the fierce, relentless hatred of the wounded lion, may well expect the threats of vengeance, the cry of rage, the determination to undo the wrong, and punish the authors of his injuries. But whether it was that he was growing weary of this constant strife, or that years had softened his resentment and relaxed his care to battle longer with his secret foes; whether he began to think that the power and the glory which throughout his life had been hitherto his aim was, after all, not worth the fighting for; or whether his love for his country had grown so deep that he would do nothing that might injure it, we cannot tell. Certain it is he went upon his way, and, during the time which remained to him to live, showed no sign whatever of anger or resentment.

While he was in the Chersonesos two years before he had marked the beauty and commanding position of a high rock looking out over the Hellespont towards Lampsakos, where the straits are not much more than a mile across. Washed by the waves of the sea in front, the hillsides form a natural fortress on the north and west; the only approach lay over the stream called Aigos Potamoi, or Goat’s Rivers, which winds below the cliffs on the south, and empties itself hard by into the Hellespont. He saw what an impregnable stronghold might be erected there, and of what value it would be to Athens against an enemy who might attack the towns which he was rapidly receiving back to their allegiance. With his own private resources he planned and built a fortress on this almost inaccessible spot, and to this lonely tower he now retired with a few constant friends, some of whom we have seen before clinging to him in his exile. There, like Achilles, he stayed watching the turns of fortune, waiting to see how soon his countrymen, recovering from their blindness, would repent of their ingratitude.

The word ‘ingratitude’ is hardly strong enough to convey a complete idea of what their conduct had been to him; for, from the moment when he had gained the object of his fixed endeavour, and had been recalled to Athens, his ardent desire was to undo the injury he had done her in the past. He would never admit that he had acted wrongly to her in anything that he had done. If his vengeance was terrible, it had been deserved. She had brought her own chastisement upon herself. When she repented of her sin, and made atonement, his generosity had been aroused,—he pardoned her. He determined to take off the penalty he had inflicted on her, and which she was still paying. As far as one can pronounce as to what would have happened if this second crime had not been committed against him, he would have been able, if Athens had permitted it, to restore her to the position which she held before the war.

He had already begun his task. In spite of the unforeseen difficulties which the junction of Persian wealth with an unscrupulous Spartan’s skill had brought forth, one by one the Ionian towns would have fallen before him, as the towns upon the Hellespont had done. Each one recovered would have brought back a tribute-paying subject city, and given Athens that of which she stood in utmost need—the power to support her navy. The Spartans were shut up at Ephesos, and could be of no assistance to those whom she had tempted to revolt. When the other towns had been brought back to their duty to Athens, he intended to bring all his force to bear on Ephesos. Lysandros could not remain penned up there for ever. He must either come out and fight or surrender, and he had shown that he was afraid to leave the harbour while Alkibiades and the Athenian fleet were in those waters. The Persian would, before long, grow tired of paying for a fleet which was too timid or too weak to fight. Even the treasure brought by Kyros from his father must soon have been exhausted. And Dareios would send no more gold to be wasted on an ally who did nothing for it in return.

The Lakedaimonians were growing tired of the war. They had already attempted overtures for peace. The difficulty the Athenians felt in accepting the terms they proposed was that those terms included the condition that the Ionian cities should remain, as they then were for the most part, in the power of Sparta. As soon as they were recovered by Athens, the difficulty would have been removed; and the only other term which Athens must have insisted on had already been conceded by Sparta,—the evacuation of Dekeleia by king Agis. All would then have been in the same state as when Alkibiades had gone to Sparta, and told the Spartans what to do to humble Athens, and the great war would have ended without much damage done to either side.

These things which might have been,—and which he knew would have been, if he had been left alone to do them,—these things, and man’s ingratitude, he could now only muse upon in his high fortress on the Hellespont.