"While we have been talking thus sadly," said the old philosopher, "the fragrant thyme and murmuring bees give cheerful notice that we are approaching Mount Hymettus. I see the worthy peasant, Tellus, from whom I have often received refreshment of bread and grapes; and if it please you we will share his bounty now."
The peasant respectfully returned their friendly greeting, and readily furnished clusters from his luxuriant vineyard. As the travellers seated themselves beneath the shelter of the vines, Tellus asked, "What news from Athens?"
"None of importance," replied Anaxagoras, "excepting rumours of approaching war, and this new edict, by which so many citizens are suddenly reduced to poverty."
"There are always those in Athens who are like the eel-catchers, that choose to have the waters troubled," observed the peasant. "When the lake is still, they lose their labour; but when the mud is well stirred, they take eels in plenty. My son says he gets twelve oboli for a conger-eel, in the Athenian markets; and that is a goodly price."
The travellers smiled, and contented themselves with praising his grapes, without further allusion to the politics of Athens. But Tellus resumed the discourse, by saying, "So, I hear my old neighbour, Philargus, has been tried for idleness."
"Even so," rejoined Anaxagoras; "and his condemnation has proved the best luck he ever had. The severe sentence of death was changed into a heavy fine; and Lysidas, the Spartan, immediately begged to be introduced to him, as the only gentleman he had seen or heard of in Athens. He has paid the fine for him, and invited him to Lacedæmon; that he may show his proud countrymen one Athenian who does not disgrace himself by industry."
"That comes of having the Helots among them," said Tellus. "My boy married a Spartan wife, and I can assure you she is a woman that looks lightning, and speaks mustard. When my son first told her to take the fish from his basket, she answered angrily, that she was no Helot."
"I heard this same Lysidas, the other day," said Philæmon, "boasting that the Spartans were the only real freemen; and Lacedæmon the only place where courage and virtue always found a sure reward. I asked him what reward the Helots had for bravery or virtue. 'They are not scourged; and that is sufficient reward for the base hounds,' was his contemptuous reply. He approves the law forbidding masters to bestow freedom on their slaves; and likes the custom which permits boys to whip them, merely to remind them of their bondage. He ridicules the idea that injustice will weaken the strength of Sparta, because the gods are enemies to injustice. He says the sun of liberty shines brighter with the dark atmosphere of slavery around it; as temperance seems more lovely to the Spartan youth, after they have seen the Helots made beastly drunk for their amusement. He seems to forget that the passions are the same in every human breast; and that it is never wise in any state to create natural enemies at her own doors. But the Lacedæmonians make it a rule never to speak of danger from their slaves. They remind me of the citizens of Amyclæ, who, having been called from their occupations by frequent rumours of war, passed a vote that no man should be allowed, under heavy penalties, to believe any report of intended invasion. When the enemy really came, no man dared to speak of their approach, and Amyclæ was easily conquered. Lysidas boasted of salutary cruelty; and in the same breath told me the Helots loved their masters."
"As the Spartan boys love Orthia, at whose altar they yearly receive a bloody whipping," said Tellus, laughing.
"There is one great mistake in Lacedæmonian institutions," observed Anaxagoras: "They seek to avoid the degrading love of money, by placing every citizen above the necessity of laborious occupation; but they forget that the love of tyranny may prove an evil still more dangerous to the state."