you!”
“Go to the window; there you will see!”
Alcibiades stepped to the window. “Now I see.”
At that moment he was struck by an arrow. “But now I see nothing! It grows dark, and I thought it would grow light.”
Timandra fled, as the corpse began to burn.
SOCRATES
Sparta had conquered Athens, and Athens lay in ruins. The government by the people was over, and the rule of the Thirty Tyrants had succeeded it. Socrates and Euripides walked with sad faces among the ruins on the Agora.
Socrates spoke: “We are on the ruins of Athens’ walls! We have become Spartans. We would have no tyrants, and now thirty rule over us.”
“I go to the North,” said Euripides, “to Macedonia, whither I am invited.”
“In that you are right, for the Tyrants have forbidden the acting of your tragedies.”
“That is true.”
“And they have forbidden me to teach.”
“Have they forbidden Socrates to speak? No! Then he can teach, for he cannot speak without teaching. But they must have forbidden the oracles to speak, for they have ceased to prophesy. Everything has ceased! Hellas has ceased to be! And why?”
“You may well ask. Has Zeus begotten the son who is to overthrow him, as Aeschylus foretold?”
“Who knows? The people have introduced a new God called Adonai or Adonis. He is from the East, and his name signifies the Lord.”
“Who is the new god?”
“He teaches readiness for death, and the resurrection. And they have also got a new goddess. Have you heard of Cybele, the mother of the gods, a virgin, who is worshipped in Rome like Vesta by vestal priests.”
“There is so much that is new and obscure, like wine in fermentation. There comes Aristophanes. Farewell, my friend, for the last time here in life.”
“Wait! Aristophanes beckons! No, see! he weeps! Aristophanes weeps!”
Aristophanes approached. “Euripides,” he said, “don’t go till I have spoken to you.”
“Can you speak?” answered Euripides.
“I weep.”
“Do not quit your role. Shall that represent tears?”
“Sympathise with a companion in distress, Euripides; the Tyrants have closed my theatre.”
“Socrates, shall I sympathise with my executioner?”
“I believe that the Temple of Nemesis has been opened again,” answered Socrates. “Aristophanes has never been ingenuous hitherto; now he is so with a vengeance. Very well, Aristophanes, I sympathise with you that you can no more scoff at me. I pardon you, but I cannot help you to stage your comedies. That is asking too much. Now I follow Euripides home.”
Socrates sat by Aspasia, who had grown elderly. “Euripides has gone to Macedonia,” he said.
“From his wives.”
“You have become bitter.”
“I am tired of seeing ruins and all the rest. The Tyrants are murdering the citizens.”
“That is the occupation of tyrants.”
“Shall we soon have rest?”
“In the Ceramicus, in a cedar coffin.”
“I will not die; I will live, but quietly.”
“Life is not quiet.”
“Yes, if one is well off.”
“One never is.”
“No, not if one is unhappily married, like you, Socrates.”
“My wife is certainly the worst possible; if she had not had me for a husband, she would long ago have been murdered.”
“Xantippe betrays you with her gossiping; and when she does not understand what you say, she gives others distorted ideas of your opinions and your person.”
“Yes, I know that, but I cannot alter it.”
“Why do you continue in such a state of humiliation?”
“Why should I fly? One is only justified in flying from superior force, and Xantippe is not a superior force to me.”
“You are forbidden, on pain of death, to give instruction; that is her work and that of Anytos.”
“She may bring about my death, if she likes, for then she has only brought about my freedom.... Aspasia, I hear that our friendship is on the decline; you have found new friends, you have become another person. Let me say farewell before Lysicles comes.”
“Do you know him?”
“Yes, and the whole town speaks of your coming marriage.”
“With the cattle-dealer, Lysicles?”
“Yes, that is your affair; I don’t talk about it.”
“But you think I should have cherished Pericles’ memory better?”
“I would fain have seen Aspasia’s memory better preserved; but since I have seen Athenians adorn themselves with garlands to celebrate Athens’ overthrow; since I have seen Phidias....”
“How, then, will Socrates end?”
“Certainly not like Aspasia.”
“The gods jest with us. Beware! O Socrates!”
Socrates was at last in prison, accused of having seduced the youth, and blasphemed or repudiated the gods of the State. Among the accusers were a young poetaster, Melitos, the tanner Anytos, and the orator Lykon.
Socrates made his Apology, and declared that he had always believed on God, and the voice of his conscience, which he called his “demon.” He was condemned to drink hemlock, and kept in prison, where, however, he was allowed to see his wife and his few remaining friends.
Just now his wife was with him, and wept.
“Weep not,” said Socrates; “it is not your fault.”
“Will you see the children?”
“Why should I lacerate their little souls with a useless leave-taking? Go to them and comfort them; divert their minds with an expedition to the woods.”
“Shall we rejoice while you are dying?”
“Rejoice that my sufferings come to an end! Rejoice that I die with honour.”
“Have you no last wish?”
“I wish for nothing,
