Alkibiades, a tale of the Great Athenian War

by Charles Hamilton Bromby

At first he spoke of Nikias and the peace, and showed how it had been dictated by a selfish policy, because Nikias, having got a reputation as a general, had nothing more to gain by war, and was anxious to enjoy the laurels he had won, for peace meant to him a long continuance of such fame as he had got, free from all further risk, while it prevented any other from rising up to rival him.

The people rose, and, as it were, with one voice demanded that Nikias should be haled before the dikasts, the judges in such cases, and tried for treason to the state. With perhaps real generosity, Alkibiades soothed their vehemence.

‘After all, it may have been the fault of old age and imbecility, not of design,’ he said, and then went on to say that others at one time—indeed, he himself for a short space—had thought that peace was necessary.

So, passing by the peace, he came to deal with the alliance.

‘Alliance!’ he exclaimed, and with a state known for its perfidy. Alliance! With a people whose selfishness and craft made it better to have them as open enemies than as friends! Alliance! With a people who from the time when they had laid upon themselves the most sacred obligations, with all the solemn sanction of libations to the gods, had never ceased to break each separate clause and article of the treaty they then made; and who quite lately, when they renewed their promises, were, at that very time, intriguing with the enemies of Athens!

The Spartan prisoners taken by the great Kleon at Sphakteria had by Nikias been given up to Sparta, while Athens got nothing in return. Amphipolis, which by another clause was to have been immediately restored to Athens, was in the power of the enemies of Athens still. All this was allowed by Nikias. Panakton had been promised in like way to be restored. It had been restored indeed, but shorn of more than half its value, and dismantled of its fortress. According to another clause no alliance should be made by either party with the enemies of either, yet Sparta had been allowed to enter into close alliance with Boiotia, the deadly foe of Athens. All this without remonstrance! And now the perfidious Lakedaimônians were seeking fresh alliances with Argos, Elis, and other states, to help them in their old desire to crush Athens. All this he had foreseen and provided for. The ambassadors of Argos, Elis, and Mantineia were here ready to come before the people and propose an enduring treaty with them. He advised that the Spartans be sent home again and the other ambassadors be heard.

In conclusion, he dwelt upon the greater wisdom of a firm alliance with the democratic Argos—‘a state with the same honest hopes and form of government as we have, rather than with an oligarchic aristocracy like Sparta, which hates freedom and the power of the people; which can do nothing that will bring us any good; which will do all it can to aid our enemies at home to restore an oligarchic rule’—and which would in the end bring back that tyranny which his own ancestor had once before freed Athens from, they then had hoped for ever.

The people shouted their assent. They rose and waved, shouted and cheered, and cheered and waved again. They had most of them known this Alkibiades from boyhood. They had laughed at his many young excesses; sometimes they had feared his lawless disposition, and dreaded his imperious nature. They had been told by those who knew him best that there was something more within him. They had seen his splendour, shared his generosity; but many doubted when he had been chosen as their leader. But now this—this was a revelation to them. None had imagined the possibility of such great earnestness and force in him who had been known as the soft, sensual, luxurious, even effeminate Alkibiades.

They were for sending the Spartan envoys home at once. Indeed, had it not been for the sanctity of their office, they would have been rudely treated. The ambassadors of Argos and her allies were admitted to the Assembly, and their offers listened to with respectful approbation. No one could doubt which way the vote of the Ekklesia would go.

So great had been the effect wrought by the speech of Alkibiades, that the more circumspect, even among his own friends, taking advantage of the rumour of an earthquake, thought it wiser to close the session for that day, and not give their final vote till they had recovered from the spell of the enchanter.