Thus this man of indomitable courage and energy, of infinite resources and ambition, the man to whom statesmen at home looked for guidance, because of his greater foresight of that which was to be, and foreign states for help because of his influence and power,—this man, the first in Athens, the man whom all men knew and most loved and admired,—might be seen, his serious day’s work done, running through the streets like any schoolboy on a holiday, crowned with violets and ivy, followed by a joyous band and the mad music of the oboe and the double flageolet.
He was, indeed, and in spite of all, the best-loved man in Athens. There was good reason for it. Besides what he had done in public for the people against their natural enemies, ever on the look-out for opportunities to get the better of them, there were numberless poor folk whose pains and sufferings, wants and miseries, his generosity and kindness had solaced and relieved.
Such pre-eminence above other men cannot exist in this world without engendering envious serpents. Given a man of more than ordinary parts, of luck or fortune, and we are sure to find detractors, and delators, too, as we are equally sure to find some evil mixed with good in almost everything. And by so much as the hero is the greater than other men, you are the more sure, if you look deep enough, to find some faults. If he has more of human nature in him than the common run of ordinary men, the greater will the certainty become that faults will be discovered, and anxiously laid hold of, too, by those who know not how to imitate his virtues.
It was at the end of this year 416, on his return from Argos, that the snakes first raised their heads and hissed. His greater opponents could not help admiring him: they were too generous to attack him secretly. It was one of the democracy who struck the first blow at Alkibiades. A poor potter named Hyperbolos, a maker of earthen lamps, the butt of Aristophanes, who, on the death of Kleon, had thought he ought to be chosen leader of the people, was put forward as the tool of others.
The secret remedy of ostracism had been invented as a last resource if ever the influence of any individual threatened to make his power greater than was becoming for a citizen in the democracy. This instrument had not been used except against the greatest men. When it was to be put in force no name was mentioned publicly; only a proposition was moved that it should be put to the vote whether some one should be banished. In private conversation the promoters of the scheme canvassed their friends, and pointed out to them who it was that, in their opinion, ought to go.
Upon this occasion Hyperbolos used all the power of his small malignity to hit his hated and successful rival. There was considerable risk that a majority of votes, making up the necessary number, would be given against the inoffensive Nikias. But Alkibiades, too, was in some danger. He had naturally the oligarchic faction against him, besides a considerable portion of the country party; and the railing tongue of the democratic traitor stirred up the sterner democrats by talking of his mad caprices, his extravagance, his high birth, his wealth, even his popularity, as reasons why his presence was dangerous to the state.
With consummate skill the object of this secret blow turned it aside and made it fall upon his enemy. He arranged with Nikias that none of their friends whom they could influence should vote against either of them, but that they should all write the name of Hyperbolos upon the piece of pottery by which the vote was given. So it happened that poor Hyperbolos was banished. When the people saw that this two-edged sword had smitten the man who tried to wield it, and that so formidable a weapon had struck so mean an object, it was felt to be dishonoured, and was never used again.
Book II
‘La plus riche vie, que je sçache, à estre vescue entre les vivants, comme on dit, et estoffée de plus de riches parties et désirables, c’est, tout considéré, celle d’Alcibiades.’