[8] Alluding to the passion of the Athenian citizens for the law-courts, in which the verdict was given by depositing in the ballot-boxes a black or white bean or pebble.
[9] This affair at Pylos is so repeatedly alluded to in this comedy, that at the risk of telling what to many readers is a well-known story, some explanation must be given here. About six months before this performance took place, a detachment of four hundred Spartans, who had been landed on the little island of Sphacteria, which closes in the Bay of Pylos (the modern Navarino), had been cut off by an Athenian squadron under Eurymedon and Demosthenes, and were closely blockaded there, in the hope of starving them into surrender. The Spartans offered terms of peace, for the men were all citizens of Sparta itself, and their loss would have been a calamity to the state. The proposal was refused by the triumphant Athenians; but afterwards the blockade was not maintained effectively, and the capitulation became doubtful. At this juncture, Cleon came forward in the Assembly, and boasted loudly that, if the command were given to him, he would bring the men prisoners to Athens within twenty days. He was taken at his word; and possibly to his own surprise, and certainly to the dismay of his political opponents, he made his boast good. The constant sneers at this exploit on the part of Cleon’s enemies seem to prove that it was not the mere piece of good luck which they represented it.
[10] “A general feature of human nature, nowhere more observable than among boys at school, where the poor timid soul is always despatched upon the most perilous expeditions. Nicias is the fag—Demosthenes the big boy.”—Frere.
The influence of oracles on the public mind at Athens during the Peloponnesian War is notorious matter of history.
[11] The Senate was an elective Upper Chamber, in which all “bills” were brought in and discussed, before they were put to the vote in the General Assembly.
[12] This Chorus has been imitated, in the true Aristophanic vein, by Mr Trevelyan, in his ‘Ladies in Parliament:’—
“We much revere our sires, who were a mighty race of men;
For every glass of port we drink, they nothing thought of ten.
They dwelt above the foulest drains: they breathed the closest air:
They had their yearly twinge of gout, and little seemed to care.
They set those meddling people down for Jacobins or fools,
Who talked of public libraries and grants to normal schools;
Since common folks who read and write, and like their betters speak,
Want something more than pipes and beer, and sermons once a-week.
And therefore both by land and sea their match they rarely met,
But made the name of Britain great, and ran her deep in debt.
They seldom stopped to count the foe, nor sum the moneys spent,
But clenched their teeth, and straight ahead with sword and musket went.
And, though they thought if trade were free that England ne’er would thrive,
They freely gave their blood for Moore, and Wellington, and Clive.
And though they burned their coal at home, nor fetched their ice from Wenham,
They played the man before Quebec, and stormed the lines at Blenheim.
When sailors lived on mouldy bread, and lumps of rusty pork,
No Frenchman dared his nose to show between the Downs and Cork;
But now that Jack gets beef and greens, and next his skin wears flannel,
The ‘Standard’ says, we’ve not a ship in plight to keep the Channel.”
[13] Karkinos (Crab) was an indifferent tragedian of the day, some of whose lines are here parodied.
[14] See note, p. 19.
[15] The speech of a late member for Sheffield—much missed in the House, and whom it would be most unfair to compare with Cleon—will occur to many readers: “I’m Tear’em.”