audience with patriotic sympathy for the weal of the entire city, so as
to counterbalance the absorbing sense of private woe. If the collective
city flourishes, he argues, private misfortunes may at least be borne;
but no amount of private prosperity will avail if the collective city
falls--a proposition literally true in ancient times and under the
circumstances of ancient warfare, though less true at present.
"Distracted by domestic calamity, ye are now angry both with me who
advised you to go to war, and with yourselves who followed the advice.
Ye listened to me, considering me superior to others in judgment, in
speech, in patriotism, and in incorruptible probity--nor ought I now to
be treated as culpable for giving such advice, when in point of fact the
war was unavoidable and there would have been still greater danger in
shrinking from it. I am the same man, still unchanged--but ye in your
misfortunes cannot stand to the convictions which ye adopted when yet
unhurt. Extreme and unforeseen, indeed, are the sorrows which have
fallen upon you: yet inhabiting as ye do a great city, and brought up in
dispositions suitable to it, ye must also resolve to bear up against the
utmost pressure of adversity, and never to surrender your dignity. I
have often explained to you that ye have no reason to doubt of eventual
success in the war, but I will now remind you, more emphatically than
before, and even with a degree of ostentation suitable as a stimulus to
your present unnatural depression, that your naval force makes you
masters not only of your allies, but of the entire sea--one-half of the
visible field for action and employment. Compared with so vast a power
as this, the temporary use of your houses and territory is a mere
trifle, an ornamental accessory not worth considering: and this too, if
ye preserve your freedom, ye will quickly recover. It was your fathers
who first gained this empire, without any of the advantages which ye now
enjoy; ye must not disgrace yourselves by losing what they acquired.