But for a moment she could not speak. Then she could do so, in her clear sweet voice, which only faintly shook. “The accusation, lord, is false and malicious and untrue. I had doubts about admitting Iona to my school, for I already knew that she was not suited to it. However, her mother had been my friend, and she had been a kind and gracious soul and a woman of intelligence. So, I admitted Iona.”
Aspasia drew a deep and audible breath, but she gazed at the King Archon and he saw the vivid brown of her eyes, like jewels. “Iona was not only mentally incapable of absorbing her studies, she lied, she slandered, she caused great trouble in my school and among my teachers and pupils. She had an innocent appearance, which deceived many for nearly a year, among them, I must confess, myself. I investigated her calumnies thoroughly and was finally convinced she was a liar. I then dismissed her. I did not tell her father of her crimes against her companions and teachers, for I respected the dear memory of her mother.”
Again there was a faint roar of indignation against Aspasia in the hall and the King Archon protested. He said to Aspasia, “There is no truth to the accusation that you procured men to rape this girl?”
“None, lord.” She hesitated, then added, “If the girl is not a virgin she did not sutler the loss of her virginity in my house.”
Glaucus cried, “She lies against my child! I demand—”
But Pericles interposed. “Iona is not a child. She is fourteen years old and of an age to marry. Tell me, Glaucus. Have you had your daughter examined by a competent physician, who can discern her lack of virginity or her possession of it?”
“No!” he almost screamed. “Has my child not suffered enough that she must endure the harsh examination of a physician? She is modest, also.”
The King Archon pursed his lips.
Aspasia said, “Iona was not too modest to attribute the vilest of perversions and other unspeakable acts to her companions and teachers. Where she learned of these I do not know, unless it was from the female slaves in the women’s quarters of her father’s house.”
The King Archon frowned at Aspasia, for it was unseemly of a woman to speak without being first addressed by a man. He looked at Glaucus. “It is my command that a physician be sent immediately to your house to examine your daughter. I will choose the physician, so he will not be suborned. You do not consent, Glaucus? Well, then, your charges against Aspasia of Miletus will be summarily dismissed.”
Glaucus said at once, “I agree to your edict, lord. Choose the physician and let him be sent at once to my house.”
So, thought Pericles, the father has also been deceived by his wretched daughter, and in spite of everything Pericles felt some pity for him. The King Archon summoned a guard and whispered in his ear and the guard departed at a trot. Pericles then had another thought: What if the vicious wench had indeed been deprived of her virginity by someone unknown? Yet, she had been sedulously guarded in the school of Aspasia, and no doubt in her father’s house also. However, it was well known that lust had a thousand entries, even to a prison.
“The next witness against Aspasia of Miletus,” said the King Archon, and the Thesmothetai Archon, who protected the city’s interests, rose and said, “Aspasia of Miletus has been accused of treason, that she has been giving aid and comfort to our enemies, to the danger of our existence.”
“Produce the accuser,” said the King Archon. The Thesmothetai Archon beckoned and the accuser came forward, a fat little old man with an eager face. Aspasia started at the sight of him, for he had been a teacher of history in her school. She had been compelled to dismiss him, for he had made obscene advances to several of her pupils.
“What have you to say before the King Archon?” asked the Thesmothetai Archon.
For a fat man he had an unusually thin and insistent voice.
“I taught in the supposed school of this woman,” and he pointed at Aspasia, “until a year ago. I am a teacher of history, and am a patriot. One day she entered my school-room—it was her want to do this with other teachers, also, on occasion—and she heard my fervid eulogies about our history. She listened, with a contemptuous smirk on her face, and then interrupted. She said, ‘It is not enough to utter eulogies. It is also necessary to utter the truth.’ I then asked her what was truth and she shrugged and said, ‘Only God knows. Certainly not historians.’
“And that is not all,” he continued rapidly. “I confess that I was shocked, but she was always enigmatic. Then one day I was passing through a colonnade and heard her speaking in a low voice to an evident stranger, of a foreign appearance. She put a large purse in his hand and said, ‘Give my kinsman, the Spartan, this purse from me and tell him I wish him victory.’ That was just before I was dismissed.”
The King Archon looked down at Aspasia, whose stunned appearance made her seem unconscious though she did not waver on her feet. He waited a moment or two then said, almost gently, “What have you to say to this, Aspasia of Miletus?”
She spoke, just audibly: “I did dismiss this man, for he had made lewd overtures to some of my serious innocent girls, and they complained to me. I did say to him once, ‘It is also necessary to utter the truth.’ I am not charging that this man lies in entirety. But too many historians have colored history with personal prejudices, and I wished my pupils to know facts and not fables. Of what use is learning if it is based on mere opinion, lord, and not verity? It is not truth at all.”
Now she turned the restored brilliance of her eyes upon her accuser. “He lies, and deliberately so, when he says that I gave a purse of gold to any stranger, and that I said the words he alleges to that non-existent stranger. I am an Ionian, and have no love for the Spartans. I was born in Miletus, lived in Persia and then in Athens. I have no relatives in Sparta; I have never met a Spartan and I devoutly wish never to meet one!”
At this a dim surge of amusement ran through the hall, and even the King Archon smiled. He said, “Lady, I also wish never to meet one.” He paused then looked at the teacher. “There is but your word against this woman’s, though she is only a woman and you are a man. She has accused you of lewdness against innocent girls, and for that she dismissed you. If you still insist she lies then it will be my most distasteful duty to summon the girls who brought the accusations against you, to Aspasia of Miletus. Here, before you, I will ask them the truth. Lewdness against the young and defenseless is a very grave crime, as you know.”
The teacher’s face quivered. Then he threw out his hands and bowed to the King Archon. “Lord,” he said, “it is not my desire to subject those young things to public gaze and public questions. I revere the young; they have my tenderest regard. Therefore, though it is true, I withdraw my charges against this woman.”
“You withdraw your charges of treason?”
The teacher bowed meekly. “Yes, lord. I must protect the young females, at whatever cost to myself and my honor.”
“You are a liar!” exclaimed the King Archon with a rare display of emotion. “You have been caught in a trap. You have lied under the most solemn of oaths. You have accused this woman of treason, and then when the iron jaws of the trap threatened you you dexterously attempted to escape them. I, therefore, exonerate Aspasia of Miletus of treason, but I do not exonerate you for lying to me under oath. I sentence you to a year in prison.”
The little fat man, stricken with terror, turned as if to flee but guards seized him and bore him away, yelling incoherently, his legs kicking the air. It was then that the physician appointed by the King Archon appeared in the hall and the King Archon beckoned to him. He bent his head and the physician whispered in his ear. The face of the King Archon became tight. He summoned Glaucus who came to him, shambling rapidly, his face expectant.
The King Archon leaned over his bench and said to Glaucus in so low a tone that only Pericles and Aspasia could hear: “The physician declares that your daughter has never known a man, but he did find evidences of perverted activity. He questioned your daughter very closely on this matter and
she confessed that she had not only submitted to the sexual advances of her female slaves but that she instigated them, herself. As this physician is not your physician, nor your daughter’s, but was appointed by me to inquire into the truth, he has not violated any confidence, and he is famous for his skill and his probity.”
Glaucus’ face turned yellow both with shame and fear, and there was a flicker of rage in his eyes.
The King Archon continued in his low voice, “If it is your desire I will put this physician under oath, and demand his testimony.”
Glaucus covered his face for a moment with trembling hands. When he dropped them his eyes were now filled with tears. “It is not my desire, lord.”
The King Archon, who also felt some pity for this deceived father, said in a louder voice, “We will proceed with this matter. Glaucus, do you still wish to press for alleged redress in money and punishment against Aspasia of Miletus?”
Glaucus gulped. He stared at Aspasia, still with hatred, as if she had brought him to this pass. But he said loudly enough, “I withdraw my charges, in the interests of my daughter’s modesty.”
It was not enough, however, for the King Archon. He said, “Answer me: Do you completely withdraw your charges that your daughter had been forced to engage in lewd actions with three men in the house of Aspasia of Miletus?”
Glaucus struggled with himself. The hall was totally silent. He clenched and unclenched his hands at his sides; he looked at Aspasia as if he desired to strangle her.
Then he said, “I completely withdraw my charges.” He gasped. “As my daughter is an innocent child she has most probably used her imagination, as do all the women in the women’s quarters, for want of better employment.”
The King Archon inclined his head. “It is well known that salacity flourishes in the women’s quarters.”
He looked at the jury. “Aspasia of Miletus is exonerated of the charges brought by Glaucus in behalf of his daughter.” Then he became stern. “However, there is another matter, Aspasia. You did not report your teacher of history for obscene overtures to the young ladies in your care. Your silence is reprehensible. Therefore, I hereby fine you six talents in gold.”
Aspasia bowed her head and said nothing, and the King Archon stared down at her in genuine rebuke. In the meantime the unfortunate Glaucus left the hall, his head bent. So he escaped the scornful glances of Pericles’ friends.
Now a heavy silence fell on the hall for the gravest charge of all was to be brought against Aspasia. Polybius regarded her with intensity, and Pericles moved closer to her as if in protection. The King Archon’s face lost all expression except for his eyes which studied Aspasia as if to read her soul. Socrates, near the wall, leaned forward, holding his breath, his radiant eyes fixed on the face of Polybius, as though he felt a foreboding about his own future. The heat of the hall increased. The sun which came through the high windows was an intense flaming light, too hurtful for any gaze, and many blinked in it and averted their heads.
“Aspasia of Miletus,” said the King Archon at last, “you have been exonerated of the charges brought to you heretofore in this court and before this jury and Assembly. However, there is the most horrible of all—that you are guilty of impiety and I must judge you, for I am the King Archon, and in my hands lies the power of life or death for heresy, the greatest crime against the gods and the people of Athens.”
Aspasia lifted her head and she stood very tall and straight and her eyes were open and serious and the shifting lights in them were like liquid mercury.
The King Archon looked down at her now in silence, and he thought, This woman is not only beautiful but she is brave and proud, like my rosy Helena whom I shall never forget. For an instant he squeezed his eyes together in pain and sorrow. When he opened them he pretended to be studying a document before him, for he could not continue until a moment or two had passed. Then he looked at Aspasia again and she wondered that his eyelids were moist and tremulous. Pericles saw this also, and his dread lifted without a reason.
“You must answer me truly, Aspasia of Miletus,” said the King Archon, and his voice was not as loud and steady as it had been before. “It has been told me that you are a heretic, a mocker of the gods, that you have denied their existence. I need not bring forth witnesses to this, for I, myself, have heard the accusations many times before. Pause before speaking; collect yourself; compose yourself, for on your word lies your life.”
Again the heavy silence descended on the hall so that it seemed to be empty of tenants, and everyone craned forward, staring at Aspasia. A few bees and wasps had blown through the windows and their buzzing was harsh in the silence, as if they were filled with anger. Pericles drew even closer to Aspasia and under his cloak he grasped his sword convulsively.
But Aspasia did not turn to him. All her regard was only for the King Archon. She felt no enmity in him, no hostile contempt, no menace. He was the judge, and he would judge her in what she said in the next moments. If her heart beat a little faster no one else was aware of it. She lifted her head even higher. Her eyes were without fear or evasion.
“Lord,” she said, “I do not know what you have heard, what calumnies, what falsehoods. You have asked me concerning my heresy. I can only answer that from my earliest youth I have felt the Presence of the Godhead in all things, that my soul has been shaken as a lily in the field at the thought of Him, that I have gazed on all He has created with wonder and awe and delight and reverence, and that, to the measure of my poor power, I have served Him. His Law has been sweeter to my spirit than honey; His graciousness has caused me to weep with joy. I see His shadow on the mountains, His reflection in the water, His heralds in the skies, His majesty in the smallest flower in a crevice. Because He is in everything that lives there is no ugliness except in the perverted eyes of men. The very stones proclaim Him; the stars sing of His might; the rains whisper of His mercy. What is seemingly dead breaks into blossoms at His gaze; the winds shout of Him at midnight. Before Him there is no despair, there is only bliss and hope. I hear His voice, I see His grandeur in the morning, at noon, in the evening. When I am sad He comforts me. When I laugh I hear His laughter also. When I see a lamb leaping in the spring, my heart leaps also, for the lamb in his dance celebrates God and I celebrate with him. The world teems with the effulgence of God, and only men see darkness.
“Lord, if someone with all authority convinced me that there is no God then I should die, for what is life without Him, and pleasure without His grace? There is only death, and in this death I could not live. He is all, and there is none else.”
She paused, then said with simplicity, “If that is heresy, lord, condemn me. God, alone then, shall be my Judge.”
Someone among Pericles’ and Aspasia’s friends raised a cry of exultation in the silence, a cry of reverent praise, and many eyes were suddenly wet. The King Archon’s old face was inscrutable and still. Now his regard on Aspasia was earnest. He said, “I have been told that you have a small temple in your gardens, Aspasia of Miletus, with a bare altar and no statues. To whom has that temple been erected, and why is the altar bare?”
Aspasia smiled like a loving child. “The temple was built to Him, Whom our priests reverence without knowing why they reverence, but their spirits know if their minds do not. The temple was built to One Whom we feel in our hearts, Who has yet no name that we have heard. Yet Greeks erect temples to Him with waiting altars, and inscribe on them: To the Unknown God.’ The altar is bare because we are still waiting for Him, He Who has been promised through the ages to all nations and all men.”
The King Archon bent his head as if meditating, and all waited for his next words. After a long minute or two he raised his head and said to the jury, “This woman is not guilty of heresy. If you believe she is, after hearing her words, speak now or never speak again.”
The silence that followed his speech was even more ponderous and weighty than before. The men of the jury looked at each other furtively, peering over each other�
��s shoulders. Some nodded; some shook their heads; some were gloomy; some were threatening in their glances, some sullen, some moved, some angry, some resentful, some impatient, some with tears on their cheeks. Pericles watched them closely. He had begun to tremble. The life of Aspasia lay with them for all of the King Archon’s grave remarks.
Now he could not restrain himself. He swung about and faced the jury and his face changed and became passionate, as none had ever seen it before.
“My countrymen!” he cried. “I am Pericles, son of Xanthippus, the great warrior whose name is honored among you! I am your Head of State, because it was the will of our people, despite the efforts of my enemies, and yours. It is not Aspasia of Miletus who stands waiting your judgment. It is I. For, I have been condemned by the vile and the envious and the lusters of power, those who desire to enslave you. Because of the strength of you, my fellow countrymen, they dared not attack me directly, or kill me.
“But they have attacked, killed or exiled those I have loved. They sought to kill my son, Paralus, because he is my son. They slew Helena, the physician. They murdered Pheidias, though he was the glory of Greece. They drove a mighty scientist, a gentle man, Anaxagoras, into flight with their persecutions. My son, Xanthippus, is fighting to save our beloved city, and is prepared to give his life. He is fighting as I fought, and as my fathers fought, not for money, not for elevation, not for power, not for shouts of honor. We fight and we have fought, for the love we hold in our souls for our country. If a man does not love his country then he is not a man. He is not even a traitor, for to be a traitor a man must first have loved, then turned aside. He is a beast who does not know that he is a beast. One trough anywhere is only a trough to him, for his feeding. One master, to him, is no different from another. He asks only to live in his animal living.
“For what does a true man live? He lives for his God, his country, his family, or he does not live at all. He lives for truth, for the liberty which God has bestowed on him on his birth. But our enemies, yours and mine, hate all these blessed things, for so long as you adhere to them they cannot reduce you to slavery, or force you to your knees, or compel you to bow before them as your lords, nor strangle you with chains, nor take from you your holy manhood, nor make you less than the beasts of the field.
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