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.’ MONTAIGNE. CHAPTER X ‘Cold art thou, little one, cheek and brow, Ah me, ah me! but I love thee now.’