“forth came, with slow and measured tread,
the ancient chorus, solemn, dread,
and through the theatre’s ample bound
stately they took their wonted round.”
schiller.
after the passage of a few weeks, zopyrus became convinced of a fact which caused him great concern. it was the growing love for him which eumetis could ill conceal. an alliance with the house of the aristocratic poet would be an honor. zopyrus believed and rightly, that he had found favor with pasicles and cleodice. still he knew that while he respected and admired eumetis for the many desirable qualities which she possessed, he did not love her as a man should love the woman whom he chooses out of all others to be his mate. the cognizance of this unreturned affection and his inability to rediscover the maiden who was the object of his love were the only obstacles which disturbed the course of an otherwise peaceful existence.
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sparta’s pernicious ambitions were timely frustrated and athens surrounded by seven miles of solid masonry and with themistocles as its temporary idol, settled down to its pre-war mode of life. in the agora the fishmonger’s bell announced the opening of fish-market, artisans went to their trade, the wealthy sought the shops and other public places or gossiped while they rested in the comfortable seats in the shady arcades. but the ordinary routine was frequently interrupted by judicial duties or public services pertaining to religious festivals, olympiads or theatrical performances, and it was upon the latter occasion that on this day the crowds were leaving the market-place and pursuing a westward direction to the theatre of dionysus which was an amphitheatre situated on the southern slope of the acropolis.
entrance was procured for the public through great gates on the right and left which opened into the orchestra or circular pit where the chorus marched and sang between the acts. the orchestra was situated between the stage and the auditorium which had a seating capacity of thirty thousand. the stone seats which rose tier upon tier were very wide and actually consisted of three distinct parts; the first as a seat, the second as a gangway for those walking, and the third part was hollowed out a little for the feet of those sitting above. the whole semi-circular structure was cut by stairs which like radii divided it into sections to facilitate the locating of seats. at the top of each division upon a pedestal stood the bust of some god or goddess, that of dionysus occupying the middle section or place of honor.
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considerably to the right and about half way down in the section of aphrodite sat pasicles, cleodice, polygnotus, corinna, zopyrus, eumetis and the lad mimnermus. bright colored kerchiefs adorned the heads of the women all over the assemblage, giving a gala appearance to the scene. at intervals over the theatre there were raised seats with high ornate backs, arm-rests and cushions. these were reserved for judges and officials or for any who were deemed deserving to occupy them. in one of these seats near the front of the section of dionysus sat the tragedian, phrynichus, so privileged as the composer of the tragedy, “the capture of miletus,” which was about to be enacted. next to him was seated aeschylus, his younger contemporary and staunch admirer.
above the vast assembly stretched the azure sky across which an occasional fleecy cloud moved with the gentle breeze. behind and above rose the acropolis crowned with its marble ruins, and to the front of the audience, visible in the distance a little to the left of the stage was clearly discernible the conical outline of hymettus, while farther to the east stretched the purple range of anchesmus.
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in his play, phrynchius vividly presented to his spectators, the sad events of the downfall of the beautiful city of miletus. he did not hesitate to blame certain greek leaders who allowed themselves to be influenced by secret agents from the enemy, so that many ships treacherously sailed away at the opening of the battle. as the play proceeded the poet in gifted language put into the mouths of his actors, the tragic tale of the plunder of its dwellings, the conflagration of its peerless temples and the captivity of its citizens. there arose in zopyrus’ memory the pale, tear-stained face of his mother when she learned from the lips of her stern husband, the fate of her native city. sixteen years before she had been taken to sardis as the bride of the persian satrap, but she had never forgotten the city of her birth, nor did she ever recover from the effect of its sad fate and the probable doom of friends and relatives. zopyrus recalled how as a lad of fourteen he stood beside his mother’s death-bed and received from her lips the request to avenge the destruction of miletus. scalding tears filled his eyes as he sat with bowed head. hearing a stifled sob he looked up and saw that eumetis was likewise in tears. thus encouraged, to discover that he was not alone moved to tears by the memory of a past tragedy that lived again before thousands, he scanned the multitude around him, to learn that many were weeping. scarcely was there one who had not lost a loved one, or who was not in some way painfully reminded of disasters through conflict with the persians. in this great common grief zopyrus felt himself to be truly one in heart with the people about him.
while in this mood he felt a light caressing touch upon his arm, and turning met the eyes of eumetis looking up to him with sympathetic understanding, and in their violet depths he read a truth which, because he was young and life held for him the possibilities which it offers to all who are ambitious, flattered while yet it sincerely pleased him. before he realized what he was doing his hand sought hers and held it, delighting in the thrill of contact.
at the close of the drama a resonant voice from the stage addressed the throng. it was the ex-archon, conon.
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“citizens of athens,” he cried, “will you let go unpunished the offender who has this day moved to tears, thousands? is it without complaint that you listen to words which cause you to live again the miseries of the past? has not greece borne enough without being thus clearly reminded of past afflictions? i move you we fine the author one thousand drachmas as a punishment.”
aeschylus was upon his feet in an instant.
“rather should our friend here,” indicating phrynichus, “be rewarded the sum of a thousand drachmas for the skill with which he depicted those scenes of woe.”
“pay no heed to aeschylus!” cried a voice. “he is a poet who probably entertains like ambitions. phrynichus should be fined, not only for his own misdeed, but as a warning to aspiring poets that we care not to have presented to us thus our national tragedies.”
the sympathies of the group who were around pasicles were with phrynichus and aeschylus, and so likewise were hundreds of others, but the majority resented the fact that they had been forced to yield to tears. the motion carried and the tragedian was forced to pay the penalty inflicted upon him.
as the crowds were leaving the amphitheatre zopyrus espied aeschylus and said as he approached him: “that was a good word you spoke for your elder friend. our sympathies were with him.”
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“phrynichus i believe,” answered aeschylus, “would rather lose the thousand drachmas than have failed to stir the hearts of the athenians as he did today. the light of victory was in his eye, and mark you, zopyrus, conon has not frightened me either, for i intend to work on my ‘persæ’ with the hope that my audience too will melt into tears! but i have unpleasant news for you, my friend. i am leaving soon for sicily to visit hiero, tyrant of syracuse. my promise to escort you to the mysteries will have to hold over till another year, however you will find in the most noble pasicles a worthy mystagogue, and it is my earnest desire that you become initiated into the mysteries at once.”
“shall i not see you again before you leave?” questioned zopyrus much agitated at the thought of his friend’s imminent departure.
“i fear not, but time does not drag on the hands of youth, and,” he added with a smile, “you may find the girl of the acropolis! farewell.”
he was gone and there seemed a chaos in life where aeschylus had once been. the truth-seeking poet had meant much to him since he had first met him in the home of pasicles. he had known personally many poets and philosophers who in parasitic fashion drew their nourishment from the court of king xerxes. they were neither original in their ideas, fearing to arouse the wrath of the king by any deviation from customs, nor were they sincere. aeschylus would cater to no man, nor did he bow to public opinion. the truth clothed in forceful language, was what he presented to the athenians, and they could take it or spurn it as they chose.
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the sight of eumetis waiting for him filled zopyrus with a pleasant consciousness that the chaos might after all be filled with a living, loving personality, and he hastily joined her. her slender face, usually serious, lighted up with joy as she beheld the youth approaching.
“the rest have gone on,” she said, “we must hasten if we are to overtake them.”
“is it necessary that we overtake them?” asked zopyrus in a voice that sounded unnatural.
eumetis blushed and shook her head in the negative. “no not if you prefer to delay.”
“i do, eumetis, for i have something to say to you.” he paused a moment then continued: “will the daughter of the aristocratic pasicles deign to look upon zopyrus whose origin is to her unknown, as a suitor?”
“you are mistaken, zopyrus, if you think your parentage is unknown to my father. aeschylus has revealed your identity to him, though i know not what it is and care not as long as pasicles approves.”
for answer zopyrus drew her arm within his own and together they crossed the ceramicus as the shades of evening were beginning to descend.
