Historical Miniatures. August Strindberg

to the point. “Men of Athens, I propose Cleon the tanner, not because he is a tanner, for that is something different. At any rate the army may be compared to an ox-skin, and Cleon to a knife; but Cleon has other qualities, especially those of a commander. His last campaign against Pericles and Phidias closed with a triumph for him. He has displayed a courage which never failed, and an intelligence which passed all mortal comprehension. His strategy was certainly not that of a lion, but he conquered, and that is the chief point. I propose Cleon as leader of the campaign.”

      Now it so fell out that this patent irony was still too subtle for the mob, who took it seriously. Alcibiades also had a certain influence with them because of his relationship to Pericles, and they listened to him readily. Accordingly the whole assembly called out for Cleon, and he was elected.

      But Cleon had never dreamt of the honour of being commander, and he was prudent enough not to endeavour to climb beyond his capacity. Therefore he protested against the election, shouting and swearing by all the gods.

      Alcibiades, however, seized the opportunity by the forelock, and, perceiving that the election of Cleon meant his death, he mounted an empty rostrum and spoke with emphasis: “Cleon jests, and Cleon is modest; he does not himself know what sort of a commander he is, for he has not proved himself; but I know who he is; I insist upon his election; I demand that he fulfil his duty as a citizen; and I summon him before the Areopagus if he shirks it when the fatherland is in danger.” “Cleon is elected!” cried the people.

      But Cleon continued to protest, “I do not know the difference between a hoplite and a peltast; [Footnote: a heavy-armed and a light-armed soldier.] I can neither carry a lance nor sit upon a horse.”

      But Alcibiades shouted him down. “He can do everything; guide the State and criticise art; carry on law-suits and watch Sophists; he can discuss the highest subjects with Socrates; in a word, he possesses all the public virtues and all the private vices.”

      Now the people laughed, but Cleon did not budge.

      “Athenians!” said Alcibiades in conclusion, “the people have spoken, and there is no appeal. Cleon is elected, and Sparta is done for!”

      The assembly broke up. Only Cleon remained behind with his friend Anytos. “Anytos!” he said. “I am lost!”

      “Very probable!” answered Anytos.

      But Alcibiades went off with Nicias: “Now Cleon is as dead as a dog. Then comes my turn,” he said.

      Socrates walked, deep in thought, up and down the courtyard of his house, which was very simple and had no colonnades. His wife was carding wool, and did it as if she were pulling someone’s hair.

      The wise man kept silence, but the woman spoke—that was her nature. “What are you doing?” she asked.

      “For the sake of old acquaintance, I will answer you, though I am not obliged to do so. I am thinking.”

      “Is that a proper business for a man?”

      “Certainly; a very manly business.”

      “At any rate no one can see what you are doing.”

      “When you were with child, it was also invisible; but when, it was born, it was visible, and especially audible. Thus occupations which are at first invisible, become visible later on. They are therefore not to be despised, least of all by those who only believe in the visible.”

      “Is your business with Aspasia something of that sort?”

      “Something of that, and of another sort too.”

      “You drink also a good deal.”

      “Yes, those who speak become thirsty, and the thirsty must drink.”

      “What is it in Aspasia that attracts men?”

      “Certain qualities which give zest to social intercourse—thoughtfulness, tact, moderation.”

      “You mean that for me?”

      “I mean it for Aspasia.”

      “Is she beautiful?”

      “No.”

      “Anytos declares that she is.”

      “He tells an untruth. Do you see Anytos, Cleon’s friend and my enemy?”

      “He is not my enemy.”

      “But mine. You always love my enemies and hate my friends; that is a bad sign.”

      “Your friends are bad men.”

      “No, on the contrary. Pericles was the greatest of the Athenians, Phidias the best, Euripides the noblest, Plato the wisest, Alcibiades the most gifted, Protagoras the most acute.”

      “And Aristophanes?”

      “He is my enemy, though I do not know why. I suppose you have heard of the comedy which he has written about me.”

      “Anytos told me. Have you seen it?”

      “I saw the Clouds yesterday.”

      “Was it amusing—was it clever?”

      “What did Anytos think?”

      “He made me laugh when he described some scenes.”

      “Then it must be amusing, or you would not have laughed.”

      “Did you not laugh, my Socrates?”

      “Yes, of course; otherwise they would have thought me a blockhead. You know that he has depicted me as a rogue and fool. Since I am neither, it was not serious; therefore it was in jest.”

      “Do you think so? I think it was serious.”

      “And you laugh at the serious? Do you weep, then, at jesting? Then you would be mad.”

      “Do you think I am mad?”

      “Yes, if you think me a rogue.”

      “You know that Cleon is with the army.”

      “I was astonished to hear it.”

      “Astonished! You think, then, that he is not fit to command.”

      “No, I know nothing about his fitness as commander, for I have never seen him in the field. But I am astonished at his election, as he himself was, because it was unexpected.”

      “You therefore expect him to be defeated.”

      “No, I wait for the result, in order to see whether he wins or loses.”

      “You would be glad if he lost?”

      “I do not love Cleon, but as an Athenian I would mourn if he were defeated; therefore I would not rejoice at his overthrow.”

      “You hate Cleon, but you do not wish his overthrow.”

      “On account of Athens—no.”

      “But except for that?”

      “Except for that, Cleon’s overthrow would be a blessing for the State, for he has been unjust to Pericles, to Phidias, to all who have done anything great.”

      “Here comes a visitor.”

      “It is Alcibiades.”

      “The wretch! Are you not ashamed to be on intimate terms with him?”

      “He is a man; he has great faults and great merits, and he is my friend. I do not wish to be on intimate terms with my enemies.” Alcibiades knocked at the door, and rushed in. “Papaia! The pair are philosophising together, and talking of yesterday’s comedy! This Aristophanes is an ass! If one wishes to kill an enemy, one must hit him; but Aristophanes aims at the clouds. Hit, yes! Do you know that Cleon is defeated?”

      “What