Callias: A Tale of the Fall of Athens Part 8

The two, accordingly, made their escape without any further interference.

"Will you walk with me as far as my house," said Callias' companion to him. "It lies in the Agrae.[33] The night is fine and I shall be glad of your company."

Callias cheerfully consented, and was glad that he had done so, so witty and varied was his companions conversation.

When they had reached their destination his new friend invited him to enter. This he declined to do for the hour was late, and he wished to be at home.

"Well then," said the other, "we can at least meet again. This, you see, is my house, and my name is Xenophon, the son of Gryllus."

FOOTNOTES:

[26] Persons who had rendered distinguished services to their country in peace or war received, among other rewards, the privilege, lasting for life, of dining in the Town hall. The city had no greater honor to bestow.

[27] It had brought about for a time the subjection of all the Boeotian towns (Thebes only excepted) and of Phocis to Athens.

[28] Myronides marched out with the citizens above and under the military age--all the available force that was left at Athens at the time--and won two victories, the first at Megara, the second and most famous of the two at Oenophyta in Boeotia.

[29] The old man was thinking of the Spartan offer to make peace after the capture of the five hundred and ninety-two prisoners at Pylos (B. C.

425). Terms much more favorable might have been secured than were obtained four years afterwards by the Peace of Nicias. Again, after the defeat and death of the Spartan admiral Mindarus in B. C. 410 peace might have been made, and the ruin of Athens probably postponed for many years; but the people refused to enter into negotiations.

[30] When the meal was ended the tables were not cleared, but removed.

[31] There were three original moods in Greek music, the Dorian, Phrygian, and Lydian. The last of these was in a major scale, and was reckoned to be plaintive and effeminate. So Milton writes in _L'Allegro_.

"And ever against eating cares Lap one in soft Lydian airs Married to immortal verse; Such as the melting soul may pierce In notes with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out."

The Dorian was in a minor scale, and was considered to be manly and vigorous. Martial music was of this kind. So, to quote Milton again, we have:

"Anon they move In perfect phalanx to the Dorian mood Of flutes and soft melodies; such as raised To heights of n.o.blest temper heroes old Coming to battle."

The third, or Phrygian, was also minor, and was considered to be suitable for sacrifices and other religious functions as being of an ecstatic kind. There were combinations and modifications of these moods.

Readers who may desire to know more of the subject, should consult Professor Mahaffy's _Rambles and Studies in Greece_, pp. 424-444 (3rd edition). A more elaborate account may be found in Mr. Chappell's History of Music.

[32] So Hector in the single combat with Ajax.

[33] A quarter of Athens south of the city on the Ilissus.

CHAPTER IX.

SOCRATES.

Callias lost no time in cultivating the acquaintance of his new friend.

The very next day he called upon him at as early an hour as etiquette permitted, and was lucky enough to find him at home. He had lately returned, indeed, from drilling with the troop of Knights to which he belonged, and was just finishing his breakfast, which had been delayed till his military duties had been performed.

"Will you drink a cup to our new friendship--if you will allow me to call it so?" said Xenophon, to the young man as he entered the room.

"Excuse me," replied Callias, "if I decline."

"You are right," said Xenophon, "this is one of the offers which formality commands us to make--whether rightly or wrongly, I cannot say--but which I always myself refuse, and am glad to see refused by others. But what will you? A game of koltabos, or a walk to the springs of the Ilissus?"

"Either," replied Callias, "would be agreeable, but first now I have set my heart on something else. You are a disciple of Socrates, I am told.

Can you manage that I may have the privilege of hearing him? I have never had the chance of doing so before."

Xenophon's face brightened with pleasure when he heard the request.

"Excellent, my dear sir, you could not have suggested anything that would have pleased me better. We shall certainly be good friends. I always judge a man by what he thinks of Socrates. You are ready, I know, to admire and love him, and I offer you my friendship in advance. Now let us go and find him. It will not be difficult, for I know his ways pretty well. There is a sacrifice in the Temple of Theseus, and he will probably be there. There is no more diligent attendant at such functions, and yet the fools and knaves say that he is an atheist. We shall catch him just as he is leaving."

The subject of conversation between the two young men as they walked along was naturally the character of this philosopher whom they were about to see. Callias had much to ask, and Xenophon had still more to tell.

"As you are going to see this man for the first time," said the latter, "you will be interested in hearing how I first came to make his acquaintance. It was about nine years ago, very soon, I remember, after the first expedition sailed for Syracuse. I had been hearing a course of lectures by Prodicus of Ceos, who was then all the fashion in Athens, and was hurrying home to be in time for the midday meal. Socrates met us in a narrow alley, and put his staff across it to bar the way. What a strange figure he was, I thought. I had never seen him before, you must know; for we had been living for some years on my father's estate in Euboea. Certainly he looked more like a Silenus than an Apollo.

'Well,' my son, he said, looking at me with a smile that made him look quite beautiful, 'can you tell me where a good tunic is to be bought?' I thought it was an odd question, though certainly he might want a tunic for himself, for his own was exceedingly shabby. However I answered it to the best of my ability. 'And a good sword--where may that be purchased?' That I told him also as well as I could. Some half-dozen more things he asked me about, and I did my best to reply. At last he said, 'Tell me then, my son, since you know so well where so many good things are to be procured, tell me where the true gentleman[34] is to be found?' That puzzled me exceedingly, and I could only lift my eyebrows and shrug my shoulders. How could I answer such a question? Then he said, 'follow me my son, and be taught.' I never went near Prodicus again, you may be sure. My father was somewhat vexed, for he had paid a quarter of a talent as fee for the course of lectures. However it did not cost him anything, for Socrates will never take a fee. From that day to this I have never missed an opportunity when I was not campaigning of hearing him. But see there he is!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE TEMPLE OF THESEUS.]

Socrates was standing in the open s.p.a.ce in front of the Temple of Poseidon, with the customary group of listeners round him. As the two young men came up the discussion which had been going on came to an end, and the philosopher turned to greet the new comers. "Hail! Xenophon," he cried, "and you, too, sir, for the friends of Xenophon are always welcome." "You, sir," he went on addressing Callias, "are recently back from the war; now tell me this." And he asked questions which showed that military details were perfectly well known to him, better known to him in fact than they were to Callias himself. These questions were becoming a little perplexing, for Socrates had an inveterate habit of driving into a corner, it may be said, every one with whom he conversed.

Luckily for Callias, another friend came up at the moment, and the great examiner's attention was diverted.

"Ho! Aristarchus," he cried to the new comer, "how fare you?"

"But poorly, Socrates," was the reply. "Things are going very ill with me."

"And indeed," said the philosopher, "I thought that you had a somewhat gloomy look. But tell me--what is your trouble? Xenophon here is your kinsman, I know, and you will not mind speaking before him, and he will answer for the discretion of his friend. Or would you prefer that we should go apart and talk, for to that too, I doubt not, these two gentlemen will consent?"

"Nay," said the man who had been addressed as Aristarchus, "I am not ashamed or unwilling to speak before Xenophon and his friend Callias, in whom I have the pleasure of recognizing a kinsman of my own. For that from which I am suffering, though it troubles me, has nothing shameful in it."

"Speak on then," said Socrates, "and, perhaps, among us we shall be able to find some remedy for your trouble. For surely it is of some use to share a burden if it be too heavy for one."

"Listen then, Socrates," said Aristarchus, "I have been compelled for kindred's sake to take into my home not a few ladies, sisters, and nieces, and cousins, whose husbands or fathers, or other lawful protectors, have either perished in the war, or have been banished.

There are fourteen of them in all. Now, as you know, nothing comes in from my country estate, for who will farm that which at any time the enemy may ravage? And from my houses in the city there comes but very little, for how few are they who are able to pay rent? And no business is being done in the city, nor can I borrow any money. Verily there is more chance of finding money in the street, than of borrowing. O, Socrates, 'tis a grievous thing to see my own flesh and blood perish of hunger, and yet, when things are as they are, I cannot find food for so many."

"'Tis grievous indeed," said Socrates. "But tell me--how comes it to pa.s.s that Keramon feeds many persons in his name, and yet can not only provide what is needful for himself and his inmates, but has so much over that he grows rich while you are afraid of perishing of hunger?"

"Nay, Socrates, why ask such a question? The many persons whom he so keeps are slaves, while the inmates of my house are free."

"Which then, think you, are the worthier, your free persons, or Keramon's slaves?"

"Doubtless my free persons."

"But, surely, it is a shame, that he having the less worthy should prosper, and you with the more worthy, be in poverty."

"Doubtless 'tis because his folk are artisans while mine have been liberally educated."

"By artisans you mean such as know how to make useful things."

"Certainly."