Glory and the Lightning (61 page)

Aspasia listened to this with astonishment.

“You are more nefarious than Callias, who is a pig, a fool, and a gross creature,” Pericles continued. “For you chose your evil life. You darkened your father’s house. He is still suffering from the infamy. How shall I punish you, so that men will know and avoid you for the rest of your life?”

He glanced at Aspasia, and she said, “Let him be branded, and not even his father will have one pang of pain. Then deliver him into the hands of a slavemaster, who will send him far from Greece. He has kept his silence, for he is a man of birth. He will not defame his father further.”

Nereus’ mouth shook, and yet he did not speak. When the overseer led him away by his chains he walked proudly. “No,” said Pericles, “he will never give his name, and never will his father know. There is some advantage in being an aristocrat. At the last they suffer punishment without whimpering or an outcry.”

He went to Aspasia and took her gently in his arms and kissed her brow and her lips. She rested against his breast, but she was still afraid, remembering his aspect when he had upbraided her. As if to console her he said, “Your advice was excellent, and I am grateful, my beloved one.” Her fear left her as she thought that Al Taliph would never have spoken so to a woman; he would have felt no gratitude for this offense to his pride, however judicious. She clung to Pericles, and for the first time in this day of horrors she wept. He held her tenderly.

“I will have Pheidias design a giant wasp in marble, for your garden,” he said, “with eyes of turquoise. It will be a warning to you, my sweetest one, never to trust a stranger. In truth, never trust anyone absolutely.”

“Not even you, lord?” she asked, smiling through her tears.

He kissed her again. “Not even I—perhaps,” he said, and for a moment she was desolate. He lifted her hand and pressed his lips against her palm. “For some day I must die, and must leave you.”

“I pray that I will die first,” she said.

“Never have you spoken to me so cruelly,” he replied, and she saw the gravity of his eyes. “For what is life to me without you, Aspasia?”

A few days later the King Archon visited Pericles in his chambers.

“It has been done to Callias as you commanded, Pericles,” he said, as he seated himself. “But it has not increased your popularity among the rabble, and even your fellow aristocrats are outraged.” He hesitated. “A multitude believes that Callias was justified—in avenging the repudiation of his mother by you. Moreover, they say that the Lady Aspasia—”

“It is a scandal,” said Pericles, when the King Archon did not finish his sentence. “And that she was trained as a courtesan. Yes, I have already heard what is being said. It matters nothing to me.”

The King Archon was an old man, and he had loved many women. Still, he reflected that even such as Pericles was not immune to Eros, and in this he was like countless other men. Empires had fallen at the touch of the soft hand of a woman. Men had abandoned honor and position and even life for women they had loved. There is a lot to be said for the theory of some philosophers, thought the King Archon, that a man in a great position should be deprived of his testes, so that his people will not perish.

CHAPTER 3

“Alas,” said Aspasia to her friend, Helena, as they sat in the outdoor portico of Helena’s house, “perhaps it had been better that I perished than Pericles suffer the present calumny and vituperative attacks. Would I not give my life for him? Of what moment is my life compared with his benevolence, his love for his country and his desire to create beauty for her, his rule of law and justice, his intellect and understanding, his hatred of the vile and the hypocritical, his calm judgment, his patronage of the arts and the sciences, his lofty detachment from all that is emotional and hysterical, his loathing for the fervent and the zealous, his contempt for politicians and government and bureaucrats—in short, all that Pericles is. He is the crown of Athens. But, I am nothing.”

Helena saw her friend’s tears, but she could not resist saying with some irony, “You have made Pericles superior to Zeus. Beware that Zeus may be listening! You will remember that the gods hate, above all things, pride in human beings and they punish it severely.”

In spite of her anxiety and distress Aspasia was forced to laugh.

Helena continued: “The gods would have us grovel in the muck of the earth and pour dust and ashes on our heads and never contemplate the stars. We have committed the crime of pride and have become higher than the beasts of the field—a most terrible effrontery to the gods. I have always said, as did my dear mentor, that without pride a man is simply an animal, but in his challenges to the gods he becomes heroic. Enough. Pericles is inexorable as well as kind. If he believed that only by dismissing you he could retain rule of Athens he would do so.”

“You do not believe, dearest Helena, that a man might sacrifice himself and his dreams for a woman?”

“I do not believe,” said Helena. “Yes, there have been some instances in history, but the men were fools, ruled by their genitals and not their minds—an unpardonable thing in both men and women. An active penis or vagina is no substitute for the stuff of a human being’s soul, no matter what the hedonists say, and the adorers of Dionysius. Nor can they comfort a man in the dark night of the soul, which comes to all of us, except to the happy grinners of the market place, who are less than human. A romp in a bed with a woman can never console a man for the loss of his honor and his position—and his advantage. So, do not fear. Pericles loves you; he will hold you to him, not in recklessness and disregard for his whole life, but because he knows he is stronger than his enemies and can defy them. Never, sweetest friend, deify a man. Admire him, if he is worthy of admiration, but never adore him.”

“You are truly a protegee of Thargelia,” said Aspasia, with a slight resentment. “I thought Pericles would give up all his life for me!” And she burst out laughing, as did Helena. Then Aspasia said with more anxiety, “But, he is in danger, not only because of what he is but because of me, also.”

“He is also in danger because of his associations with philosophers and scientists—accused of impiety—such as Anaxagoras and Zeno and Pheidias and Socrates, to name but a few. The Archons, the Ecclesia, the Assembly, and all the dreary scum of government hate him for using the public treasury to enhance and glorify Athens. They would prefer to pocket the gold, themselves, or to advance what they call the public welfare, which means, in the raw reality, the buying of votes for themselves. Be not proud, Aspasia. Pericles would not destroy Athens and himself for you, or any other woman. In that, you can take pride in him, for he is no womanish man, the victim and slave of emotions, and what the vulgar call love.”

Helena was as rosy and robust as ever, and as always her counsel was sensible, if filled with cynicism. Aspasia, despite her own experiences, acknowledged that Helena was less vulnerable than herself and sturdier of spirit and for this she loved her. Rather than feeling sad because of Helena’s exposition of Pericles’ character and ambitions, Aspasia was comforted. He would not be destroyed because Aspasia was his mistress. She was merely the passing excuse for the demands of the rowdy market rabble—which unfortunately could vote—for his impeachment and removal from office. They saw in Pericles a threat to their hope of an easier and more abundant life, at the expense of taxpayers. They hated him in that he had told them that a man should earn his bread with his industry, and not with mendicancy. They knew he despised them openly, and regarded them as a peril to their country.

The rabble knew that Pericles respected and supported the new middle class, who believed that work was both honorable and prayerful, and that a lazy man, though free, was less than an industrious slave. Had they, the rabble, not a right to live, too? they had asked of the Archons. To which Pericles had replied, “No. Not unless you have justified your right to live—which you have not.”

They seized on Aspasia—they the filthiest of fornicators and adulterers at every opportunity—as an example both of impiety and of lasciviousness. They cried that she influenced Pericles in his office. She was a degraded woman, a courtesan, and never a matron. She was scandalous, in that she corrupted young women with learning. She entertained suspect philosophers—who sneered at the gods, and scientists who debated the existence of the gods—in her own house. It was said that she had a temple to some Oriental deity in her gardens, on which a spell had been laid, so that any who approached His altar became impotent, mindless, frenzied or blasphemous, and challenged Olympus, itself. The Unknown God, of Whom some priests and philosophers spoke? He was unknown because He possesses no holy attributes, no adherents. Zeus has not acknowledged Him. Therefore, Pericles and Aspasia have insulted Zeus. If Pericles was not deposed the gods would avenge themselves on Athens. Woe!

Daedalus said to the King Archon, with hysterical fury, “He would have branded my grandson, of a noble house, as a slave! Had it not been for some merciful slaves, who smuggled him out of that detestable woman’s house, he would have been disfigured for life! Now my beloved grandson, Callias, has been exiled; such was the decree of Aspasia, the whore of Athens, who rules us in the name of Pericles. Is that not monstrous, that a harlot is more important than the government, itself?”

When the King Archon did not answer, Daedalus screamed, “Who is Aspasia, that she dominates our lives? My grandson was only attempting to redeem his mother, his house, his pride of family, his position. Had he killed or deformed her it would have been only justice. For his manly intentions, for all he holds dear, he is a vagabond on Cyprus, and can no longer return to his loved family, and his weeping mother. For the sake of a harlot Pericles has debased my family, my daughter, my grandson, and his own sons. He has defamed his house. He has disgraced his position, and all of Greece laughs at him. The comic poets compose pentameters in ridicule of him and his harlot, and the playwrights are hilarious.”

The King Archon considered him thoughtfully as he stroked his beard. He said, “Yes. To find him a Juno, the goddess of lust bore that harlot past shame, Aspasia by name.” Infinitely hilarious, is it not? I do not find it so. Daedalus, you and I are old men, and often our memories fail us but our prejudices, on the contrary, become more fiery. If I am wrong, correct me: If I remember, your grandson was not smuggled out of Aspasia’s house by righteous and merciful slaves. He was brought in chains, after a flogging, to the court of the Assembly by Pericles’ soldiers. The Assembly does not love Aspasia, just as they do not love Pericles, but they are men frequently just—though that appears a mere blunder at times and not deliberated opinion! They were appalled at the attack on a woman who had done your grandson no wrong, and who, though despite her faults and her convictions, is not only a beautiful woman but a learned one. I do not admire her, you will understand, for women are contentious enough without an education, and learning could make them even more disagreeable.” He stroked his beard again and fixed Daedalus with bright intent eyes like a bird. “I am informed that it was Aspasia who prevented Callias from being branded with the brand of a slave.

“Nevertheless, she had been seduced by a ruse your grandson had concocted. He intended murder, through his companions, or at the least the mutilation of a defenseless woman. A moment, please,” and he lifted his hand to stop the bursting words of rage already on Daedalus’ tongue. “Let me continue. Pericles had demanded a divorce from his wife long before he knew Aspasia. When Dejanira refused, he had the marriage annulled. As for Pericles ‘defaming’ his name, his house, his family, his position, by protecting a hetaira—who among us has not loved such?” He watched the bruised scarlet run over Daedalus’ aged and sunken cheeks. “Shall we denounce in him our own—peculiarities? What Athenian gentleman can endure his wife? There are very few tender marriages. At least Pericles is faithful to his Aspasia. He has wanted to marry her, but will not break his own law. He is an honorable man.

“Daedalus, your grandson had no reason for malice towards Aspasia, except that I have heard he is naturally malicious. He was striking at Pericles. It was Pericles’ own plea that this not be brought too strongly to the attention of the Assembly, and the Archons and the Ecclesia. You know, most certainly, what the punishment is for an attempted injury against the Head of State?”

This was a somewhat specious remark, and the King Archon knew it. He also knew that Daedalus’ fury would prevent him from detecting the adroit fallacy. Daedalus could now only stand and shiver with rage and clench his hands at his sides and glare at the King Archon with mingled fear and blinding temper. He thrust his face forward as though he could not see well and fixed his eyes on the King Archon’s features as if to imprint them ominously on his mind.

Finding his voice at last he almost yelled, “Lord, it is common talk in Athens, and in all of Greece, even in Sparta, that Aspasia is impious, that she teaches the deluded girls in her school that the gods do not exist, or if they do they are not cognizant of man and therefore honor given to them is a delusion!”

The King Archon became grave. “Who has told you this, Daedalus?”

“It is common knowledge, lord!”

“What is ‘common knowledge,’ Daedalus, is a common lie, in my experience. Are we men or old women who idle away the hours in slander? When you have some authentic evidence against Aspasia, bring it to me and I will give it all my attention. Now you must leave me. I have matters of consequence to consider.”

So he dismissed Daedalus. However, he was more concerned than he had appeared. He admired Pericles; as a young man he had known Xanthippus. Even some members of the devoted middle class were expressing criticism of Pericles. It was one thing to keep a hetaira; it was quite another thing for a man as powerful and as famous as Pericles to flaunt her in public, as Pericles seemed to flaunt Aspasia. It was known that his new laws giving women more freedom in Athens, and more rights of property, and more consideration and privileges, were inspired by Aspasia, she of the notorious school. (Scandalous things were said of her school, by those who knew nothing about it.) Pericles, as a politician, should know more about the hypocrisy of the people than he appeared to know. Governments must, at all times, be aware of that hypocrisy and respect it, and must avow that it is virtue and not contemptible pretense. What was being rumored and said about Pericles by his enemies was doubtless honey to the slavering lips of men, who desired to believe all enormities concerning public figures. More good men had been destroyed by sanctimonious liars than the sentimental would admit.