Alkibiades, a tale of the Great Athenian War

by Charles Hamilton Bromby

Now, the treaty had provided that both sides and their dependencies should remain throughout the year as they were at the making of the treaty. Sparta declared the revolt of Skione had taken place before the treaty was concluded. Athens answered that to assist the Skionians was to infringe the terms of the treaty, as at the making of it Skione was a dependency of hers.

This questionable conduct of Sparta was the chief topic of conversation at Kleon’s banquet. Then there was the loss of Amphipolis, which the more warlike thought must be recovered at any cost. Some were for moderation, most of the guests for war. Kleon, having sounded the general feeling of his friends, was, on the whole, for war.

He spoke of the duty of all men, at any price, to save their country’s honour and preserve the state’s integrity. He denounced the perfidy of Sparta, and declared if Nikias, to whose negligence in confiding the Thrakian colonies to the government of the money-making Thoukydides the loss of Amphipolis was due—if Nikias feared to meet Brasidas in the field, why, he would go himself and bring the Spartans back prisoners to Athens, as he had done before, when Nikias shirked his duty at Sphakteria.

Most of his guests noisily applauded him. A few were doubtful. They had not much faith in the enterprise or ability of Nikias, who had already been sent to the north to recover the lost Chalkidian towns, and had returned with but little glory, yet they had still less confidence in the military knowledge of Kleon; while all recognised in Brasidas one of the greatest generals that Sparta had as yet produced. The poorer sort were all for war. War hit their rich and aristocratic opponents most, while the middle class often sucked no small advantage from a war.

Shining among them all was Alkibiades, gayest in wit, quickest in repartee. He was looked upon by both parties as the coming man amongst the younger men, and as one who must make his mark when, in a short time, he would be of age to take his part in the Athenian Parliament. But when the question of war was seriously discussed, he either affected carelessness or professed a desire to hear his elders speak.

From the traditions of the family, from his education, he was on the people’s side. Still, he was a knight, and very rich. His personal friends were chiefly of the knightly order, and on the other side in politics. They were nicer to associate with than democrats like Kleon and his friends. They had been, too, his comrades, and had fought beside him in the wars. Moreover, Sokrates, in whose wisdom he had great faith, was for the oligarchic party.

Both sides were anxious to get hold of him. He was too wise to compromise his future liberty. He had not yet determined on which side the better chances of distinction lay, or, indeed, which side was absolutely best for Athens. Kleon undoubtedly was the first man among the democrats—it would be difficult to oust him from his position. On the other hand, Nikias, though safe, was feeble and irresolute; there were already many secret murmurs against him, even from among his own party, both as a politician and a general.

When the feast and high debate were over, these were the thoughts which strove together in his mind, as, after bidding Kleon and his fellow guests good-night, he dismissed his slave and walked alone towards home.

Warm with wine, excited by the discussion he had heard, he wandered on, thinking of his future course in life. Who was there to guide him? There was Sokrates indeed, but Sokrates was all for Sparta and for peace.

Sokrates cared little for the oligarchic faction. Most of them, he said, knew not how to govern themselves, or persuade each other on the simplest questions; how could they govern others, or persuade the people as to what was best for their most vital interests? He had little regard for the oligarchs of Athens. But, anyhow, they were better than the mob. They had more to lose. And even they, foolish as they were, even they were more likely to go right in their opinions than the fickle populace, with their wavering, half-formed wishes. Alkibiades knew the advice he was sure to get from his old adviser. Then there was Hippareté, who, like the other women of her rank, had been brought up in respectable seclusion, knew scarcely anything beyond a few domestic duties, and cared only for her husband and her child.