Philothea: A Grecian Romance

by Lydia Maria Child

"The grove of Academus is one of the few places now remaining where virtue is really taught and encouraged," rejoined Anaxagoras. "As for these new teachers, misnamed philosophers, they are rapidly hastening the decay of a state whose diseases produced them."

"A few days since, I heard one of the sophists talking to crowds of people in the old Agora," said Philæmon; "and truly his doctrines formed a strange contrast with the severe simplicity of virtue expressed in the countenances of Solon, Aristides, and the other god-like statues that stood around him. He told the populace that it was unquestionably a great blessing to commit an injury with impunity; but as there was more evil in suffering an injury than there was good in committing one, it was necessary to have the subject regulated by laws: that justice, correctly defined, meant nothing more than the interest of the strongest; that a just man always fared worse than the unjust, because he neglected to aggrandize himself by dishonest actions, and thus became unpopular among his acquaintances; while those who were less scrupulous, grew rich and were flattered. He said the weak very naturally considered justice as a common right; but he who had power, if he had likewise courage, would never submit to any such agreement: that they who praised virtue, did it because they had some object to gain from those who had less philosophy than themselves; and these pretended worthies, if they could act invisibly, would soon be found in the same path with the villain. He called rhetoric the noblest of the arts, because it enabled an ignorant man to appear to know as much as one who was thoroughly master of his subject. Some of the people demanded what he had to say of the gods, since he had spoken so ably of men. With an unpleasant mixture of derision and feigned humility, the sophist replied, that he left such vast subjects to be discussed by the immortal Socrates. He forthwith left the Agora, and many a loud laugh and profane jest followed his departure. When such doctrines can be uttered without exciting indignation, it is easy to foresee the destinies of the state."

"Thucydides speaks truly," rejoined Anaxagoras: "In the history he is writing, he says,—The Athenian people are beginning to be more fond of calling dishonest men able, than simple men honest; and that statesmen begin to be ashamed of the more worthy title, while they take pride in the other: thus sincerity, of which there is much in generous natures, will be laughed down; while wickedness and hypocrisy are everywhere triumphant."

"But evil grows weary of wearing a mask in reluctant homage to good," replied Philæmon; "she is ever seeking to push it aside, with the hope that men may become accustomed to her face, and find more beauty therein, than in the disguise she wears. The hidden thought at last struggles forth into expression, and cherished passions assume a form in action. One of the sophists has already given notice that he can teach any young man how to prove that right is wrong, or wrong is right. It is said that Xanthippus has sent his son to benefit by these instructions, with a request that he may learn the art thoroughly, but be taught to use it only in the right way."

"Your words are truth, my son," answered the philosopher; "and the blame should rest on those who taint the stream at its source, rather than with them who thoughtlessly drink of it in its wanderings. The great and the gifted of Athens, instead of yielding reverent obedience to the unchangeable principle of truth, have sought to make it the servant of their own purposes. Forgetful of its eternal nature, they strive to change it into arbitrary forms of their own creating; and then marvel because other minds present it in forms more gross and disgusting than their own. They do not ask what is just or unjust, true or untrue, but content themselves with recommending virtue, as far as it advances interest, or contributes to popularity; and when virtue ceases to be fashionable, the multitude can no longer find a satisfactory reason for adhering to it. But when the teachers of the populace hear their vulgar pupils boldly declare that vice is as good as virtue, provided a man can follow it with success, pride prevents them from seeing that this maxim is one of their own doctrines stripped of its equestrian robes, and shown in democratic plainness. They did not venture to deride the gods, or even to assert that they took no cognizance of human affairs; but they declared that offences against divine beings might be easily atoned for by a trifling portion of their own gifts—a sheep, a basket of fruit, or a few grains of salt, offered at stated seasons, with becoming decorum; and then when alone together, they smiled that such concessions were necessary to satisfy the superstitions of the vulgar. But disbelief in divine beings, and the eternal nature of truth, cannot long be concealed by pouring the usual libations, or maintaining a cautious reserve. The whispered opinions of false philosophers will soon be loudly echoed by the popular voice, which is less timid, because it is more honest. Even thus did Midas laboriously conceal the deformity of his head; but his barber, who saw him without disguise, whispered his secret in the earth, and when the winds arose, the voices of a thousand reeds proclaimed to the world, 'King Midas hath ass's ears.'"

"The secret has already been whispered to the ground," answered Philæmon, smiling: "If it were not so, the comic writers would not be able to give with impunity such grotesque and disgusting representations of the gods."

"And yet," rejoined the old man, "I hear that Hermippus, who has himself personified Hera on the stage, as an angry woman attempting to strike infuriated Zeus, is about to arraign me before the public tribunal, because I said the sun was merely a great ball of fire. This he construes into blasphemy against the life-giving Phœbus."

"The accusation may be thus worded," said Philæmon; "but your real crime is that you stay away from political assemblies, and are therefore suspected of being unfriendly to democratic institutions. Demos reluctantly admits that the right to hold such opinions is an inherent part of liberty. Soothe the vanity of the dicasts by humble acknowledgments, and gratify their avarice by a plentiful distribution of drachmæ; flatter the self-conceit of the Athenians, by assurances that they are the greatest, most glorious, and most consistent people upon earth; be careful that Cleon the tanner, and Thearion the baker, and Theophrastus the maker of lyres, are supplicated and praised in due form—and, take my word for it, the gods will be left to punish you for whatever offences you commit against them. They will receive no assistance from the violet-crowned city."

"And you, my son," replied the philosopher, "would never have been exiled from Athens, if you had debated in the porticos with young citizens, who love to exhibit their own skill in deciding whether the true cause of the Trojan war were Helen, or the ship that carried her away, or the man that built the ship, or the wood whereof it was made; if in your style you had imitated the swelling pomp of Isagoras, where one solitary idea is rolled over and over in an ocean of words, like a small pearl tossed about in the Ægean; if you had supped with Hyperbolus, or been seen in the agoras, walking arm in arm with Cleon. With such a man as you to head their party, Pericles could not always retain the ascendancy, by a more adroit use of their own weapons."

"As soon would I league myself with the Odomantians of Thrace!" exclaimed Philæmon, with an expression of strong disgust. "It is such men who destroy the innocence of a republic, and cause that sacred name to become a mockery among tyrants. The mean-souled wretches! Men who take from the poor daily interest for a drachma, and spend it in debauchery. Citizens who applauded Pericles because he gave them an obolus for a vote, and are now willing to see him superseded by any man that will give two oboli instead of one! No, my father—I could unite with none but an honest party—men who love the state and forget themselves; and such are not now found in Athens. The few that exist dare not form a barrier against the powerful current that would inevitably drive them to destruction."