The travellers having heartily returned his parting benediction, slowly ascended Mount Hymettus. When they paused to rest upon its summit, a glorious prospect lay stretched out before them. On the north, were Megara, Eleusis, and the cynosure of Marathon; in the south, numerous islands, like a flock of birds, reposed on the bright bosom of the Ægean; to the west was the broad Piræus with its thousand ships, and Athens in all her magnificence of beauty; while the stately buildings of distant Corinth mingled with the cloudless sky. The declining sun threw his refulgent mantle over the lovely scene, and temples, towers, and villas glowed in the purple light.
The travellers stood for a few moments in perfect silence—Philæmon with folded arms, and Anaxagoras leaning on his staff. At length, in tones of deep emotion, the young man exclaimed, “Oh, Athens, how I have loved thee! Thy glorious existence has been a part of my own being! For thy prosperity how freely would I have poured out my blood! The gods bless thee, and save thee from thyself!”
“Who could look upon her and not bless her in his heart?” said the old philosopher: “There she stands, fair as the heaven-born Pallas, in all her virgin majesty! But alas for Athens, when every man boasts of his own freedom, and no man respects the freedom of his neighbor. Peaceful, she seems, in her glorious beauty; but the volcano is heaving within, and already begins to throw forth its showers of smoke and stones.”
“Would that the gods had permitted me to share her dangers—to die and mingle with her beloved soil!” exclaimed Philæmon.
The venerable philosopher looked up, and saw intense wretchedness in the countenance of his youthful friend. He laid his hand kindly upon Philæmon’s arm; “Nay, my son,” said he, “You must not take this unjust decree so much to heart. Of Athens nothing can be so certainly predicted as change. Things as trifling as the turning of a shell may restore you to your rights. You can even now return if you will submit to be a mere sojourner in Athens. After all, what vast privileges do you lose with your citizenship. You must indeed wrestle at Cynosarges, instead of the Lyceum or the Academia; but in this, the great Themistocles has given you honorable example. You will not be allowed to enter the theatre while the Athenians keep the second day of their festival Anthesteria; but to balance this privation you are forbidden to vote, and are thus freed from all blame belonging to unjust and capricious laws.”
“My father, playful words cannot cure the wound,” replied the exile, seriously: “The cherished recollections of years cannot be so easily torn from the heart. Athens, with all her faults, is still my own, my beautiful, my beloved land. They might have killed me, if they would, if I had but died an Athenian citizen.”
He spoke with a voice deeply agitated; but after a few moments of forced composure, he continued more cheerfully: “Let us speak of other subjects. We are standing here on the self-same spot where Aristo and Perictione laid the infant Plato, while they sacrificed to the life-giving Phœbus. It was here the bees clustered about his infant mouth, and his mother hailed the omen of his future eloquence. Commend me to that admirable man, and tell him I shall vainly seek throughout the world to find another Plato.
Commend me, likewise, to the Persian Artaphernes. To his bounty I am much indebted. Lest he should hope that I carry away feelings hostile to Athens, and favorable to her enemies, say to the kind old man, that Philæmon will never forget his country or his friends. I have left a long letter to Paralus, in which my full heart has but feebly expressed its long-cherished friendship. When you return, you will find a trifling token of remembrance for yourself and Philothea. May Pallas shower her richest blessings upon that pure and gifted maiden.”
With some hesitation, Anaxagoras said, “You make no mention of Eudora; and I perceive that both you and Philothea are reserved when her name is mentioned. Do not believe every idle rumor, my son. The gayety of a light-hearted maiden is often unmixed with boldness, or crime. Do not cast her from you too lightly.”
Philæmon averted his face for a moment, and struggled hard with his feelings. Then turning abruptly, he pressed the old man’s hand, and said, “Bid Philothea, guide and cherish her deluded friend, for my sake. And now, farewell, Anaxagoras! Farewell, forever! my kind, my good, old master. May the gods bless the wise counsels and virtuous example you have given me.”
The venerable philosopher stretched forth his arms to embrace him. The young man threw himself upon that friendly bosom, and overcome by a variety of conflicting emotions, sobbed aloud.
As they parted, Anaxagoras again pressed Philæmon to his heart, and said, “May that God, whose numerous attributes the Grecians worship, forever bless thee, my dear son.”
CHAPTER X.
Courage, Orestes! if the lost hit right,
If the black pebbles don’t execed the white,
You’re safe.
Euripides
Pericles sought to please the populace by openly using his influence to diminish the power of the Areopagus; and a decree had been passed that those who denied the existence of the gods or introduced new opinions about celestial things, should be tried by the people. This event proved fortunate for some of his personal friends; for Hermippus soon laid before the Thesmothetæ Archons an accusation of blasphemy against Anaxagoras, Phidias, and Aspasia. The case was tried before the fourth Assembly of the people; and the fame of the accused, together with the wellknown friendship of Pericles, attracted an immense crowd; insomuch that the Prytaneum was crowded to overflowing. The prisoners came in, attended by the Phylarchi of their different wards. Anaxagoras retained his usual bland expression and meek dignity. Phidias walked with a haughtier tread, and carried his head more proudly. Aspasia was veiled; but as she glided along, gracefully as a swan on the bosom of still waters, loud murmurs of approbation were heard from the crowd. Pericles seated himself near them, with deep sadness on his brow. The moon had not completed its revolution since he had seen Phidias arraigned before the Second Assembly of the people, charged by Menon, one of his own pupils, with having defrauded the state of gold appropriated to the statue of Pallas. Fortunately, the sculptor had arranged the precious metal so that it could be taken off and weighed; and thus his innocence was easily made manifest. But the great statesman had seen, by many indications, that the blow was in part aimed at himself through his friends; and that his enemies were thus trying to ascertain how far the people could be induced to act in opposition to his wellknown wishes. The cause had been hurried before the assembly, and he perceived that his opponents were there in great numbers. As soon as the Epistates began to read the accusation, Pericles leaned forward, and burying his face in his robe, remained motionless.
Anaxagoras was charged with not having offered victims to the gods; and with having blasphemed the divine Phœbus, by saying the sun was only a huge ball of fire. Being called upon to answer whether he were guilty of this offence, he replied: “Living victims I have never sacrificed to the gods; because, like the Pythagoreans, I object to the shedding of blood; but, like the disciples of their sublime philosopher, I have duly offered on their altars small goats and rams made of wax. I did say I believed the sun to be a great ball of fire; and deemed not that in so doing I had blasphemed the divine Phœbus.”
When he had finished, it was proclaimed aloud that any Athenian, not disqualified by law, might speak. Cleon arose, and said it was well known to the disciples of Anaxagoras, that he taught the existence of but one God. Euripides, Pericles, and others who had been his pupils, were separately called to bear testimony ; and all said he taught One Universal Mind, of which all other divinities were the attributes; even as Homer represented the inferior deities subordinate to Zeus.
When the philosopher was asked whether he believed in the gods, he answered, “I do: but I believe in them as the representatives of various attributes in One Universal Mind.” He was then required to swear by all the gods, and by the dreaded Erinnys, that he had spoken truly.
The Prytanes informed the assembly that their vote must decide whether this avowed doctr
ine rendered Anaxagoras of Clazomenœ worthy of death. A brazen urn was carried round, in which every citizen deposited a pebble. When counted, the black pebbles predominated over the white; and Anaxagoras was condemned to die.
The old man heard it very calmly, and replied: “Nature pronounced that sentence upon me, before I was born. Do what ye will, Athenians, ye can only injure the outward case of Anaxagoras; the real, immortal Anaxagoras is beyond your power.”
Phidias was next arraigned, and accused of blasphemy, in having carved the likeness of himself and Pericles on the shield of heaven-born Pallas; and of having said that he approved the worship of the gods, merely because he wished to have his own works adored. The sculptor proudly replied, “I never declared that my own likeness, or that of Pericles, was on the shield of heaven-born Pallas; nor can any Athenian prove that I ever intended to place them there. I am not answerable for offences which have their origin in the eyes of the multitude. If their quick discernment be the test, crimes may be found written even on the glowing embers of our household altars. I never said I approved the worship of the gods because I wished to have my own works adored; for I should have deemed it irreverent thus to speak of divine beings. Some learned and illustrious guests, who were at the symposium in Aspasia’s house, discoursed concerning the worship of images, apart from the idea of any divine attributes, which they represented. I said I approved not of this; and playfully added, that if it were otherwise, I might perchance be excused for sanctioning the worship of mere images, since mortals were ever willing to have their own works adored.” The testimony of Pericles, Alcibiades, and Plato, confirmed the truth of his words.
Cleon declared it was commonly believed that Phidias decoyed the maids and matrons of Athens to his house, under the pretence of seeing sculpture; but in fact, to minister to the profligacy of Pericles. The sculptor denied the charge; and required that proof should be given of one Athenian woman, who had visited his house, unattended by her husband or her father. The enemies of Pericles could easily have procured such evidence with gold; but when Cleon sought again to speak, the Prytanes commanded silence; and briefly reminded the people that the Fourth Assembly had power to decide concerning religious matters only. Hermippus, in a speech of considerable length, urged that Phidias seldom sacrificed to the gods; and that he must have intended likenesses on the shield of Pallas, because even Athenian children recognized them.
The brazen urn was again passed round, and the black pebbles were more numerous than they had been when the fate of Anaxagoras was decided. When Phidias heard the sentence, he raised himself to his full stature, and waving his right arm over the crowd, said, in a loud voice; “Phidias can never die! Athens herself will live in the fame of Charmides’ son.” His majestic figure and haughty bearing awed the multitude; and some, repenting of the vote they had given, said, “Surely, invisible Phœbus is with him!”
Aspasia was next called to answer the charges brought against her. She had dressed herself in deep mourning, as if appealing to the compassion of the citizens; and her veil was artfully arranged to display an arm and shoulder of exquisite whiteness and beauty, contrasted with glossy ringlets of dark hair, that carelessly rested on it. She was accused of saying that the sacred baskets of Demeter contained nothing of so much importance as the beautiful maidens who carried them; and that the temple of Poseidon was enriched with no offerings from those who had been wrecked, notwithstanding their supplications—thereby implying irreverent doubts of the power of Ocean’s god. To this, Aspasia, in clear and musical tones, replied: “I said not that the sacred baskets of Demeter contained nothing of so much importance as the beautiful maidens who carried them. But, in playful allusion to the love of beauty so conspicuous in Alcibiades, I said that he, who was initiated into the mysteries of Eleusis, might think the baskets less attractive than the lovely maidens who carried them. Irreverence was not in my thoughts; but inasmuch as my careless words implied it, I have offered atoning sacrifices to the mother of Persephone, during which I abstained from all amusements. When I declared that the temple of Poseidon contained no offerings in commemoration of men that had been wrecked, I said it in reproof of those who fail to supplicate the gods for the manes of the departed. They who perish on the ocean, may have offended Poseidon, or the Virgin Sisters of the Deep; and on their altars should offerings be laid by surviving friends.
No man can justly accuse me of disbelief in the gods; for it is well known that with every changing moon I offer on the altars of Aphrodite doves and sparrows, with baskets of apples, roses and myrtles: and who in Athens has not seen the ivory car drawn by golden swans, which the grateful Aspasia placed in the temple of that love-inspiring deity?”
Phidias could scarcely restrain a smile, as he listened to this defence; and when the fair casuist swore by all the gods, and by the Erinnys, that she had spoken truly, Anaxagoras looked up involuntarily, with an expression of child-like astonishment. Alcibiades promptly corroborated her statement. Plato, being called to testify, gravely remarked that she had uttered those words, and she alone could explain her motives. The populace seemed impressed in her favor; and when it was put to vote whether sentence of death should be passed, an universal murmur arose, of “Exile! Exile!”
The Epistates requested that all who wished to consider it a question of exile, rather than of death, would signify the same by holding up their hands. With very few exceptions, the crowd were inclined to mercy. Hermippus gave tokens of displeasure, and hastily rose to accuse Aspasia of corrupting the youth of Athens, by the introduction of singing and dancing women, and by encouraging the matrons of Greece to appear unveiled.
A loud laugh followed his remarks; for the comic actor was himself far from aiding public morals by an immaculate example.
The Prytanes again reminded him that charges of this nature must be decided by the First Assembly of the people; and, whether true or untrue, ought to have no influence on religious questions brought before the Fourth Assembly.
Hermippus was perfectly aware of this; but he deemed that the vote might be affected by his artful suggestion.
The brazen urn was again carried round; and fiftyone pebbles only appeared in disapprobation of exile.
Then Pericles arose, and looked around him with calm dignity. He was seldom seen in public, even at entertainments; hence, something of sacredness was attached to his person, like the Salaminian galley reserved for great occasions. A murmur like the distant ocean was heard, as men whispered to each other, “Lo, Pericles is about to speak”! When the tumult subsided, he said, in a loud voice, “If any here can accuse Pericles of having enriched himself at the expense of the state, let him hold up his right hand!”
Not a hand was raised—for his worst enemies could not deny that he was temperate and frugal.
After a slight pause, he again resumed: “If any man can show that Pericles ever asked a public favor for himself or his friends, let him speak!”
No words were uttered; but a murmur of discontent was heard in the vicinity of Cleon and Hermippus.
The illustrious statesman folded his arms, and waited in quiet majesty for the murmur to assume a distinct form. When all was hushed, he continued: “If any man believes that Athens has declined in beauty, wealth, or power, since the administration of Pericles, let him give his opinion freely!”
National enthusiasm was kindled; and many voices exclaimed, “Hail Pericles! All hail to Athens in her glory!”
The statesman gracefully waved his hand toward the multitude, as he replied, “Thanks, friends and brothercitizens. Who among you is disposed to grant to Pericles one favor, not inconsistent with your laws, or in opposition to the decrees of this assembly?
A thousand hands were instantly raised. Pericles again expressed his thanks, and said, “The favor I have to ask is, that the execution of these decrees be suspended, until the oracle of Amphiaraus can be consulted. If it please you, let a vote be taken who shall be the messenger.”
The proposal was acc
epted; and Antiphon, a cele brated diviner, appointed to consult the oracle.
As the crowd dispersed, Cleon muttered to Hermippus, “By Circe! I believe he has given the Athenians philtres to make them love him. No wonder Archidamus of Sparta said, that when he threw Pericles in wrestling, he insisted he was never down, and persuaded the very spectators to believe him.”
Anaxagoras and Phidias, being under sentence of death, were placed in prison, until the people should finally decide upon their fate. The old philosopher cheerfully employed his hours in attempts to square the circle. The sculptor carved a wooden image, with many hands and feet, and without a head; upon the pedestal of which he inscribed Demus, and secretly reserved it as a parting gift to the Athenian people.
Before another moon had waned, Antiphon returned from Oropus, whither he had been sent to consult the oracle. Being called before the people, he gave the following account of his mission: “I abstained from food until Phœbus had twice appeared above the hills, in his golden chariot; and for three days and three nights, I tasted no wine. When I had thus purified myself, I offered a white ram to Amphiaraus; and spreading the skin on the ground, I invoked the blessing of Phœbus and his prophetic son, and laid me down to sleep. Methought I walked in the streets of Athens. A lurid light shone on the walls of the Piræus, and spread into the city, until all the Acropolis seemed glowing beneath a fiery sky. I looked up—and lo! the heavens were in a blaze! Huge masses of flame were thrown backward and forward, as if Pandamator and the Cyclops were hurling their forges at each other’s heads. Amazed, I turned to ask the meaning of these phenomena; and I saw that all the citizens were clothed in black; and wherever two were walking together, one fell dead by his side. Then I heard a mighty voice, that seemed to proceed from within the Parthenon. Three times it pronounced distinctly, ‘Wo! wo! wo unto Athens!’
I awoke, and after a time slept again. I heard a rumbling noise, like thunder; and from the statue of Amphiaraus came a voice, saying, ‘Life is given by the gods.’
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