Alkibiades, a tale of the Great Athenian War — John Shaqi
Alkibiades, a tale of the Great Athenian WarBromby, Charles Hamilton
History
Alkibiades, a tale of the Great Athenian War
Bromby, Charles Hamilton
Alcibiades -- Fiction; Greece -- History -- Peloponnesian War, 431-404 B.C. -- Fiction
As the chorus burst out, ‘But the Kyprian goddess, silently busy, has
plainly appeared the doer of these things,’ the applause was unanimous.
Even the old-fashioned musicians who condemned the new style in which
the cadences of the songs were sung, the larger instrumental
accompaniment, and, above all things, the additional string which his
friend Timotheos had added to the kithara, were for the moment carried
away by the beauty of the music, and forgot to grumble.
His bounty to the poor, too, was boundless. Even the lawlessness of
which his enemies complained had generally some kindness, or at least
some mere exuberance of spirits, at the bottom of it. No instance could
anyone remember where his eccentricities had done harm to anyone. These
eccentricities were forgotten, forgiven, for his generosity.
Passing one day when a state distribution of small coins was being made
to all the indigent and workless, he ordered the dole to be doubled at
his charges. The people, unable to restrain their gratitude at this new
evidence of his compassion, led him home in triumph.
And thus at the opening of his political life, though there were envious
rivals, he was the most popular of the citizens. The people love to have
a man of great and ancient family to lead them. So even before he could
take part in the debates of the Assembly he was recognised as the leader
of the people’s party in the place of Kleon.
It is a great event in a man’s life when he first takes his seat in a
popular assembly. After many years of hope deferred and unsuccessful
efforts, when, each time we try, we think this time at last we must
succeed, and then, when the votes are counted, after waiting with
ill-concealed anxiety for the result, we find we have again just missed
the mark, and we determine we will never, never try again; when we
think, after all, the game is not worth playing, and we have to make a
speech thanking those who have voted for us, and hinting at all we might
have done for our opponents, as well as for those who have given us
their support; and then, and then, come other opportunities, and we
allow ourselves to be persuaded, against the grave advice of friends and
relatives, to try once more, and then, if at length we are elected, with
what strange indescribable feelings we walk in and take our place, if
there is room for us, upon those seats it has cost us so much to get at!
Those only who have undergone all this can really know the feeling.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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