The Hemlock Cup - Bettany Hughes [167]
CHORUS: And if things don’t go well, if these good men
All fail, and Athens comes to grief, why then
Discerning folk will murmur (let us hope):
‘She’s hanged herself – but what a splendid rope’.10
When Socrates was young, the smell of destroyed carcasses in Athens came from the meat markets in the Agora, the tripe stalls on Piraeus harbour front or the dead animals prepared for tanning; now it was human flesh, first of democrats and then of oligarchs, that was making the air above Athena’s city rank.
Aristophanes’ Frogs, written when the city was a daily host to such barbarity, again captures the mood of the moment – where salvation no longer seems to lie in the future, but somewhere in a romanticised past:
But remember these men also, your own kinsmen, sire and son,
Who have of times fought beside you, spilt their blood on many seas;
Grant for that one fault the pardon which they crave you on their knees.
You whom nature made for wisdom, let your vengeance fall to sleep;
Greet as kinsmen and Athenians, burghers true to win and keep,
Whosoe’er will brave the storms and fight for Athens at your side!11
Athenian society’s underlying belief in the power of the ‘old’ way of doing things bubbled to the surface at a time of crisis. The reformed democracy of 410 set to inscribing the resumed democratic laws in stone. But what was being set down there was not a brave new world. The hard evidence, a surviving a carved stone stele, demonstrates that the public statements in Athens now have, literally, a more draconian feel. ‘The Athenians shall be governed in the ancestral ways, using the laws, weights and measures of Solon and also the regulations of Draco which had previously been in force.’12 It was to a conventional past that a traumatised people turned to find strength.
Alcibiades, the prodigal son
With the democracy restored and a number of oligarchic troublemakers executed, for a short time, in domestic affairs at least, Athens seemed to be temporarily robust. In 407, as a conquering hero once again, opportunist Alcibiades was recalled to Athens. Greeted at Piraeus with all the pomp and affection befitting one who had that vital Greek virtue kleos – fame, the worth to be sung of as the heroes of old – he went straight to the Pnyx to flex his well-exercised rhetorical muscles. At this moment Alcibiades was truly the prodigal son returned. The stele incarnating his disgrace was up-ended, dragged down from the Acropolis and thrown into the sea. In his play the Frogs, Aristophanes says the Athenians ‘pine for him, they hate him, but they wish to have him back’.13
Alcibiades led the procession heading towards the Eleusinian Mysteries – by necessity rerouted for a number of years to skirt those areas of Attic land under Spartan occupation – cocking a snook at the Spartan garrison at Decelea. The returning hero was followed by a gaggle of eager, sycophantic (‘sycophant’ in the modern, not Attic Greek, sense) citizens,