massacre a whole population, was, in his view, a commonplace and
ordinary proceeding; and, in the present instance, the only course
consistent with prudence and common sense. Those who maintained the
contrary were either flighty enthusiasts, whose opinion was not worth
considering, or venal orators, who had sold their country for a bribe.
"Will you suffer yourselves," asked the indignant moralist, "to be
blinded by these corrupt advocates, who amuse you with their
eloquence, and then pocket the price? But it is your own fault: you
have no sense of public responsibility--you are like clever children,
playing at a game of politics. While you sit here, listening to your
favourite speakers, and sharpening your wits against theirs, your
empire is going to ruin. Plain fact is too simple a diet for your
pampered appetites; you must have it hashed and served up with a fine
flavouring of fancy and wit. In short, you have lost all hold upon
reality, you live in an intellectual Utopia, and treat grave matters
of public interest as though they were mere themes in a school of
declamation."

In drawing this remarkable picture of Athenian character, which,
though strangely out of place, really contained a large element of
truth, Cleon overreached himself, and was caught in his own snare. It
was he, and not his opponents, who was diverting attention from facts,
and involving a plain issue in a cloud of wordy rhetoric. He has no
arguments, worthy of the name, but tries to carry his case by playing
on the passions of the people, and blowing up the flames of their
anger, which was beginning to cool. But though the more discerning
among his audience must have seen through his sophistries, to a large
proportion of his hearers his speech no doubt seemed a masterpiece of
eloquence. The Athenians, who, like all people of lively talent, were
fond of laughing at themselves, would be especially amused by his