A\\EUNIVER/A ^clOS-ANCEUj; 
 
 
 ' 

 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS; 
 
 THE TRANSLATION 
 
 A GREEK MANUSCRIPT 
 
 DISCOVERED IN HERCULANEUM. 
 
 BT 
 
 FRANCES WRIGHT, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "VIEWS OF SOCIETY AND MANNERS IN AMERICA." 
 
 " joining bliss to virtue, the glad ease 
 
 Of Epicurus, seldom understood." 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY J. P. MENDUM. 
 1850.
 
 ~f \
 
 Colleg* 
 Library 
 
 TO 
 
 JEREMY BENTHAM, 
 
 AS A TESTIMONY 
 
 OF 
 
 HER ADMIRATION OF HIS ENLIGHTENED SENTIMENTS, 
 USEFUL LABORS, 
 
 AND ACTIVE PHILANTHROPY, 
 
 AND OF 
 HER GRATITUDE FOR HIS FRIENDSHIP, 
 
 THIS WORK 
 
 is 
 
 RESPECTFULLY AND AFFECTIONATELY 
 INSCRIBED 
 
 BT 
 
 FRANCES WRIGHT. 
 
 London, 
 March 12/A, 1822. 
 
 1158128
 
 / If T 7
 
 OT 
 
 TO THE READER, 
 
 .-.. r.--,iii > j=- '.'S 
 
 THAT I may not obtain credit for more learning than 
 I possess, I beg to acknowledge the assistance I have 
 received in my version of the curious relict of antiquity 
 now offered to the public from the beautiful Italian MSS. 
 of the erudite Professor of Greek in the university 
 of #**##. I hesitate to designate more clearly the 
 illustrious Hellenist whose labors have brought to light 
 this curious fragment. Since the establishment of the 
 saintly domination of the Vandals throughout the territo- 
 ries of the rebellious and heterodox Italy, and particu- 
 larly in consequence of the ordinance of his most ortho- 
 dox, most legitimate, and most Austrian majesty, bear- 
 ing that his dominions being in want of good subjects, 
 his colleges are forbidden to send forth good scholars,* 
 it has become necessary for the gownsmen of the classic 
 peninsula to banish all profane learning from their lec- 
 tures and their libraries, and to evince a holy abhorrence 
 
 *Je ne veux pas de savans dang mes etats, je veux de bans 
 sujets, was the dictum of the Austrian Autocrat to an 
 Italian Professor.
 
 VI TO THE READER. 
 
 of the sciences and arts which they erst professed. The 
 list of the class books now employed in the transalpine 
 schools is exceedingly curious ; I regret that I have mis- 
 laid the one lately supplied to me by an illustrious Ital- 
 ian exile. My memory recals to me only that, in the 
 school of rhetoric, the orations of Cicero are superseded 
 by those of the Marquis of Londonderry, and the philip- 
 pics of Demosthenes by those of M. de Peyronnet ; that 
 the professors of history have banished the decades of 
 Livy for the Martyrs of Mons. de Chateaubriand ; and 
 that the students of Greek, in place of the Odes of Pin- 
 dar, and the retreat of the ten thousand from Cunaxa, 
 construe the hexameters of the English Laureate, and 
 the advance of Louis the XVIII. upon Ghent. In this 
 state of the Italian world of Letters, it is not surprising 
 that the scholar, to whose perseverance, ingenuity, and 
 learning, the public are indebted for the following frag- 
 ment, should object to lay claim to the honor which is 
 his due. 
 
 The original MS. fell into the hands of my erudite cor- 
 respondent in the autumn of the year 1817. From that 
 period until the commencement of last winter, all his 
 leisure hours were devoted to the arduous task of unroll- 
 ing the leaves, and decyphering the half defaced char- 
 acters. The imperfect condition of the MS. soon obliged 
 him to forego his first intention of transcribing the original 
 Greek ; he had recourse, therefore, to an Italian version, 
 supplying the chasms, consisting sometimes of a word, 
 sometimes of a line, and occasionally of a phrase, with a
 
 TO THE READER. Vll 
 
 careful and laborious study of the context. While this 
 version was printing at Florence, a MS. copy was trans- 
 mitted to me in Paris, with a request that I would forth- 
 with see it translated into the English and French lan- 
 guages. The former version I undertook myself, and 
 can assure the reader that it possesses the merit of fidel- 
 ity. The first erudite translator has not conceived it 
 necessary to encumber the volume with marginal notes; 
 nor have I found either the inclination or the ability to 
 supply them. Those who should wish to refer to the 
 allusions scattered through the old classics to the char- 
 acters and systems here treated of, will find much assis- 
 tance from the marginal authorities of the eloquent and 
 ingenious Bayle. 
 
 I have only to add, that the present volume comprises 
 little more than a third of the original MS. ; it will be 
 sufficient, however, to enable the public to form an esti- 
 mate of the probable value of the whole.
 
 Of Vli;;-:t:
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 "OH! MONSTROUS," cried the young Theon, 
 as he came from the portico of Zeno. "Ye 
 Gods ! and will ye suffer your names to be 
 thus blasphemed ? Why do ye not strike with 
 thunder the actor and teacher of such enormi- 
 ties ? What ! will ye suffer our youth, and 
 the youth of after ages, to be seduced by this 
 shameless Gargettian ? Shall the Stoic portico 
 be forsaken for the garden of Epicurus ? Mi- 
 nerva, shield thy city ! Shut the ears of thy 
 sons against the voice of this deceiver ! " 
 
 Thus did Theon give vent to the indignation 
 which the words of Timocrates had worked 
 up within him. Timocrates had been a disci- 
 ple of the new school; but, quarrelling with 
 his master, had fled to the followers of Zeno ; 
 and to make the greater merit of his apostacy, 
 and better to gain the hearts of his new friends,
 
 10 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 poured forth daily execrations on his former 
 teacher, painting him and his disciples in the 
 blackest colors of deformity ; revealing, with 
 a countenance distorted as with horror, and a 
 voice hurrieql and suppressed ,as from the ag- 
 onies of dreadful recollections, the secrets of 
 those midnight orgies, where, in the midst of 
 his pupils, the philosopher of Gargettium offi- 
 ciated as master of. the. accursed ceremonies 
 of riot and impiety. 
 
 Full of these nocturnal horrors the young 
 Theon traversed with hasty steps the streets of 
 Athens, and, issuing from the city, without per- 
 ceiving that he did so, took the road to the 
 Piraeus. The noise of the harbor roused him 
 to recollection, and feeling it out of tune with 
 his thoughts, he turned up the more peaceful 
 banks of Cephisus, and, seating himself on the 
 stump of a withered olive, his feet almost 
 washed by the water, he fell back again into 
 his reverie. How long he had sat he knew not, 
 when the sound of gently approaching foot- 
 steps once more recalled him. He turned his 
 head, and, after a 'start and gaze of astonish- 
 ment, bent with veneration to the figure before 
 him. It was of the middle size, and robed in 
 white, pure as the vestments of the Pythia. 
 The shape, the attitude, the foldings of the gar- 
 ment, were such as the chisel of Phidias would
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 11 
 
 
 
 have given to the God of Elocution. The 
 head acco'rded with the rest of the figure ; it 
 sat upon the shoulders with a grace that a 
 painter would have paused to contemplate 
 elevated, yet somewhat inclining forward, as if 
 habituated gently to seek and benevolently to 
 yield attention. The face a poet would have 
 gazed upon, and thought he beheld in it one of 
 the images of his fancy embodied. The fea- 
 tures were not cast for the statuary; they 
 were noble but not regular. Wisdom beamed 
 mildly from the eye, and candor was on the 
 broad forehead : the mouth reposed in a soft, 
 almost imperceptible smile, that did not curl 
 the lips or disturb the cheeks, and was seen 
 only in the serene and holy benignity that 
 shone over the whole physiognomy : It was a 
 gleam of sunshine sleeping on a lucid lake. 
 The first lines of age were traced on the brow 
 and round the chin, but so gently as to mellow 
 rather than deepen expression : the hair indeed 
 seemed prematurely touched by time, for it was 
 of a pure silver, thrown back from the forehead, 
 and fringing the throat behind with short 
 curls. He received benignly the salutation 
 of the youth, and gently with his hand return- 
 ing it " Let me not break your meditations; 
 I would rather share than disturb them." If 
 the stranger's appearance had enchanted The-
 
 12 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 
 
 on, his voice did now more so : never had a 
 sound so sweet, so musical, struck upon his ear. 
 
 "Surely I behold and hear a divinity ! " he 
 cried, stepping backwards, and half stooping 
 his knee with veneration. 
 
 " From the groves of the academy, I see," 
 said the sage, advancing arid laying his hand 
 on the youth's shoulder. 
 
 Theon looked up with a modest blush, and 
 encouraged by the sweet aspect of the sage, 
 replied, "No; from the Stoic portico." 
 
 "Ah! I had not thought Zeno could send 
 forth such a dreamer. You are in a good 
 school," he continued, observing the youth 
 confused by this remark, "a school of real 
 virtue; and, if I read faces well, as I think I 
 do, I see a pupil that will not disgrace its doc- 
 trines." 
 
 Theon's spirit returned; the stranger had 
 that look, and voice, and manner, which in- 
 stantly give security to the timid, and draw 
 love from the feeling heart. "If you be man, 
 you exert more than human influence over the 
 souls of your fellows. 1 have seen you but 
 one moment, and that moment has laid me 
 at your feet." 
 
 "Not quite so low, I hope," returned the 
 sage with a smile; "I had always rather be 
 the companion than the master."
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 13 
 
 " Either, both," said the eager youth, and 
 seizing the half-extended hand of the sage, 
 pressed it respectfully to his lips. 
 
 " You are an enthusiast, I see. Beware, my 
 young friend ! such as you must be the best or 
 the worst of men." 
 
 "Then, had I you for a guide, I should 
 be the best." 
 
 " What ! do you a stoic ask a guide ? " 
 
 " I, a stoic ! Oh ! would I were ! I yet stand 
 but on the threshhold of the temple." 
 
 " But standing there you have at least looked 
 within and seen the glories, and will not that 
 encourage you to advance 1 Who that hath 
 seen virtue doth not love her, and pant after 
 her possession?" 
 
 "True, true; I have seen virtue in her 
 noblest form Alas ! so noble, that my eyes 
 have been dazzled by the contemplation. I 
 have looked upon Zeno with admiration and 
 despair." 
 
 " Learn rather to look with love. He who 
 but admires virtue, yields her but half her due. 
 She asks to be approached, to be embraced 
 not with fear, but with confidence not with 
 awe but with rapture." 
 
 " Yet who can gaze on Zeno and ever hope 
 to rival him?" 
 ' " You, my young friend : Why should you
 
 14 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 not ? You have innocence ; you have sensibil- 
 ity; you have enthusiasm; you have ambi- 
 tion With what better promise could Zeno 
 begin his career 1 Courage ! courage ! my 
 son ! " stopping, for they had insensibly 
 walked towards the city during the dialogue, 
 and laying his hand on Theon's head, " We 
 want but the will to be as great as Zeno." 
 
 Theon had drawn his breath for a sigh, but 
 his action and the look that accompanied it, 
 changed the sigh to a smile. " You would 
 make me vain." 
 
 " No ; but I would make you confident. 
 Without confidence Homer had never written 
 his Iliad No ; nor \vould Zeno now be wor- 
 shipped in his portico." 
 
 "Do you then think confidence would make 
 all men Homers and Zenos ? " 
 
 "Not all; but a good many. I believe 
 thousands to have the seeds of excellence in 
 them, who never discover the possession. But 
 we were not speaking of poetry and philosophy, 
 
 Gnly of virtue all men certainly cannot be 
 oets or philosophers, but all men may be 
 irtuous." 
 
 "I believe," returned the youth with a 
 modest blush, "if I might walk with you 
 each day on the boarders of Cephisus, I 
 should sometimes play truant at the portico."
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 15 
 
 " Ye gods forbid (exclaimed the sage play- 
 fully) that I should steal a proselyte ! From 
 Zeno too ? It might cost me dear. What are 
 you thinking of? " he resumed, after a pause. 
 
 " I was thinking," replied Theon, " what a 
 loss for man that you are not teacher in the 
 gardens in place of the son of Neocles." 
 
 " Do you know the -son of Neocles ? " asked 
 the sage. 
 
 " The gods forbid that I should know him 
 more than by report ! No, venerable stran- 
 ger ; wrong me not so much as to think I have 
 entered the gardens of Epicurus. It is' not 
 long that I have been in Athens, but I hope, if 
 I should henceforth live my life here, I should 
 never be seduced by the advocate of vice." 
 
 " From my soul I hope the same. But 
 you say you have not long been in Athens 
 -You are come here to study philosophy." 
 
 " Yes ; my father was a scholar of Xeno- 
 crates ; but when he sent me from Corinth, he 
 bade me attend all the schools, and fix with 
 that which should give me the highest views 
 of virtue." 
 
 "And you have found it to be that of 
 Zeno." 
 
 " I think I have : but I was one day nearly 
 gained by a young Pythagorean^ and have
 
 16 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 been often in danger of becoming one of the 
 academy." 
 
 " You need not say in danger : For though I 
 think you choose well in standing mainly by 
 Zeno, I would have you attend all the schools, 
 and that with a willing ear. There is some 
 risk in following one particular sect, even the 
 most perfect, lest the mind become warped and 
 the heart contracted. Yes, young man ! it is 
 possible that this should happen even in the 
 portico. No sect without its prejudices and its 
 predilections." 
 
 "I believe you say true." 
 
 "I know I say true," returned the sage in a 
 tone of playfulness he had more than once 
 used; " I know I say true; and had I before 
 needed evidence to confirm my opinion, this our 
 present conversation would have afforded it." 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 " Nay, were I to explain, you would not now 
 credit me : No man can see his own prejudi- 
 ces; no, though a philosopher should point 
 at them. But patience, patience ! Time and 
 opportunity shall right all things. Why, you 
 did not think," he resumed after a short 
 pause, " you did not really think you were 
 without prejudices'? Eighteen, not more, if 
 I may judge* by complexion, and without pre- 
 judices ! Why, I should hardly dare to assert
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 17 
 
 I was myself without them, and I believe I 
 have fought harder and somewhat longer 
 against them than you can have done." 
 
 " What would you have me do ? " asked the 
 youth, timidly. 
 
 " Have you do? Why, I would have you 
 do a very odd thing No other than to take a 
 turn or two in Epicurus's garden." 
 
 " Epicurus's garden ! Oh ! Jupiter ! " 
 
 " Very true, by Juno ! " 
 
 " What ! To hear the laws of virtue con- 
 founded and denied? To hear vice excul- 
 pated, advocated, panegyrized? Impiety and 
 atheism professed and inculcated ? To wit- 
 ness the nocturnal orgies of vice and debauch- 
 ery ? Ye gods, what horrors has Timocrates 
 revealed ! " 
 
 " Horrors, in truth, somewhat appalling, my 
 young friend ; but I should apprehend Tim- 
 ocrates to be a little mistaken. That the laws 
 of virtue were ever confounded and denied, or 
 vice advocated and panegyrized, by any pro- 
 fessed teacher, 1 incline to doubt. And were I 
 really to hear such things, I should simply con- 
 clude the speaker mad, or otherwise that he 
 was amusing himself by shifting the meaning of 
 words, and that by the term virtue he under- 
 stood vice, and so by the contrary. As to the 
 inculcating of impiety and atheism, this may
 
 18 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 be exaggerated or misunderstood. Many are 
 called impious, not for having a worse, but a 
 / different religion from their neighbors; and 
 many atheistical, not for the denying of God, 
 but for thinking somewhat peculiarly concern- 
 ing him. Upon the nocturnal orgies of vice 
 and debauchery I can say nothing ; I am too 
 profoundly ignorant of these matters, either to 
 exculpate or condemn them. Such things may 
 be, and I never hear of them. All things are 
 possible. Yes," turning his benignant face 
 full upon the youth, " even that Timocrates 
 should lie." 
 
 " This possibility had indeed not occurred to 
 me." 
 
 "No, my young friend; and shall I tell you 
 why? Because he told you absurdities. Let 
 an impostor keep to probability, and he will 
 hardly impose. By dealing in the marvellous, 
 he tickles the imagination, and carries away 
 the judgment ; and judgment once gone, what 
 shall save even a wise man from folly?" 
 
 "I should truly rejoice, to find the Garget- 
 tian's doctrine less monstrous than 1 have 
 hitherto thought them. I say less monstrous , 
 for you would not wish me to think them 
 good." 
 
 "I would wish you to think nothing good, 
 or bad either, upon my decision. The first and
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 19 
 
 the last thing I would say to man is, think for 
 yourself ! It is a bad sentence of the Pytha- 
 goreans, ' The master said so.' If the young 
 disciple you mentioned should ever succeed in 
 your conversion, believe in the metempsycho- 
 sis for some other reason than that Pytha- 
 goras ' taught it.' " 
 
 "But, if I may ask, do you think well of 
 Epicurus ? " 
 
 " I meant not to make an apology for Epi- 
 curus, only to give a caution against Timo- 
 crates but see, we are in the city ; and for- 
 tunately so, for it is pretty nigh dark. I have 
 a party of young friends awaiting me, and, but 
 that you may be apprehensive of nocturnal or- 
 gies, I would ask you to join us." 
 
 " I shall not fear them where I have such a 
 conductor," replied the youth, laughing. 
 
 " I do not think it quite so impossible, how- 
 ever, as you seem to do," said the sage, laugh- 
 ing in his turn, with much humor, and entering 
 a house as he spoke; then throwing open with 
 one arm a door, and with the other gently 
 drawing the youth along with him, "I am 
 Epicurus ! "
 
 20 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Btmfi .' oil* tf '.('> Jy m > '>- - -iii'l 
 
 THE astonished, the affrighted Theon start- 
 ed from the arm of the sage, and, staggering 
 backwards, was saved, probably, from falling, 
 by a statue that stood against the wall on one 
 side of the door : he leaned against it, pale and 
 almost fainting. He knew not what to do, 
 scarcely what to feel, and was totally blind 
 to all the objects around him. His conductor, 
 who had possibly expected his confusion, did 
 not turn to observe it, but advanced in such 
 a manner as to cover him from the view of the 
 company, and, still to give time for recollection, 
 stood receiving and returning salutations. 
 
 " Well met, my sons ! and I suppose you 
 say well met, also. Are you starving, or am I 
 to be starved ? Have you ate up the supper, or 
 only sat longing for it, cursing my delay? " 
 
 " The latter, only the latter," cried a lively 
 youth, hurrying to meet his master. Another 
 and another advanced, and in a moment he 
 was locked in a close circle. / 
 
 " Mercy ! mercy ! cried the philosopher, 
 " drive me a step further and you will over- 
 turn a couple of statues." Then, looking over 
 his shoulder, " I have brought you, if he has 
 not run away, a very pleasant young Corinthi-
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 21 
 
 an, for whom, until he gain his own tongue, 
 I shall demand reception." He held out his 
 hand with a look of bewitching encourage- 
 ment, and the yet faltering Theon advanced. 
 The mist had now passed from his eyes, and 
 the singing from his ears, and both room and 
 company stood revealed before him. . Perhaps, 
 had it not been for this motion, and still more 
 this look of the sage, he had just now made a 
 retreat instead of an advance. "In the hall of 
 Epicurus in that hall where Timocrates had 
 beheld" oh ! horrid imagination ! " And he 
 a disciple of Zeno, the friend of Clean thes the 
 son of a follower of Plato had he crossed 
 the threshhold of vice, the threshhold of the 
 impious Gargettian ! " Yes ; he had certainly 
 fled, but for that extended hand, and that be- 
 witching smile. These however conquered. 
 He advanced, and with an effort at composure, 
 met the offered hand. The circle made way, 
 and Epicurus presented "a friend." "His 
 name you must learn from himself, I am only 
 acquainted with his heart, and that, on a 
 knowledge of two hours, I pronounce myself 
 in love with." 
 
 "Then he shall be my brother," cried the 
 lively youth who had before spoken, and he 
 ran to the embrace of Theon. 
 
 " When shall we use our own eyes, ears,
 
 22 A FEW DATS IN ATHENS. 
 
 and understandings?" said the sage, gently 
 stroking his scholar's head. "See! our new 
 friend knows not how to meet your premature 
 affection." 
 
 "He waits," returned the youth archly, "to 
 receive the same commendation of me that I 
 have of him. Let the master say he is in 
 love with my heart, and he too will open his 
 arms to a brother." . 
 
 "I hope he is not such a fool," gaily re- 
 plied the sage. Then with an accent more 
 serious, but still sweeter, " I hope he will judge 
 all things, and all people, with his own under- 
 standing, and not with that of Epicurus, or yet 
 of a wiser man. When may I hope this of 
 Sofron," smiling and shaking his head, "can 
 SofrontellmeS" 
 
 "No, indeed he cannot," rejoined the 
 scholar, smiling and shaking his head also, 
 as in mimicry of his master. 
 
 " Go, go, you rogue ! and show us to our 
 supper : I more than half suspect you have de- 
 voured it." He turned, and familiarly taking 
 Theon by the shoulder, walked up the room, or 
 rather gallery, and entered a spacious rotunda. 
 
 A lamp, suspended from the centre of the 
 ceiling, lighted a table spread beneath it with a 
 simple but elegant repast. Round the walls, 
 in niches at equal distances, stood twelve stat-
 
 A FEW DATS IN ATHENS. 23 
 
 ues, the work of the best masters ; on either 
 hand of these burned a lamp on a small tripod. 
 Beside one of the lamps, a female figure was re- 
 clining on a couch, reading with earnest study 
 from a book that lay upon her knee. Her 
 head was so much bowed forward as to conceal 
 her face, besides that it was shadowed by her 
 hand, which, the elbow supported on an arm 
 of the couch, was spread above her brows as a 
 relief from the glare of the light. At her feet 
 was seated a young girl, by whose side lay a 
 small cithara, silent, and forgotten by its mis- 
 tress. Crete might have lent those eyes their 
 sparkling jet, but all the soul of tenderness that 
 breathed from them was pure Ionian. The full 
 and ruddy lips, half parted, showed two rows 
 of pearls which Thetis might have envied. 
 Still a vulger eye would not have rested on 
 the countenance: the features wanted the 
 Doric harmony, and the complexion was 
 tinged as by an Afric sun. Theon, however, 
 saw not this, as his eyes fell on those of the 
 girl, uplifted to the countenance of her studious 
 companion. Never was a book read more 
 earnestly than was that face by the fond and 
 gentle eyes which seemed to worship as they 
 gazed. The sound of approaching feet caught 
 the ear of the maiden. She rose, blushed, half 
 returned the salute of the master, and timidly
 
 24 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 drew back some paces. The student was still 
 intent upon the scroll over which she hung, 
 when the sage advanced towards her, and lay- 
 ing a finger on her shoulder, "What read you, 
 my daughter ? " She dropped her hand, and 
 looked up in his face. What a countenance 
 was then revealed ! It was not the beauty of 
 blooming, blushing youth, courting love and de- 
 sire. It was the self-possessed dignity of 
 ripened womanhood, and the noble majesty 
 of mind, that asked respect and promised de- 
 light and instruction. The features were not 
 those of Venus, but Minerva. The eye looked 
 deep and steady from beneath two even brows, 
 that sense, not years, had slightly knit in the 
 centre of the forehead, which else was uniformly 
 smooth and polished as marble. The nose was 
 rather Roman than Grecian, yet perfectly reg- 
 ular, and though not masculine, would have 
 been severe in expression, but for a mouth 
 where all that was lovely and graceful habited. 
 The chin was elegantly rounded, and turned in 
 the Greek manner. The color of the cheeks 
 was of the softest and palest rose, so pale, in- 
 deed, as scarcely to be discernible until deepened 
 by emotion. It was so at this moment : star- 
 tled by the address of the sage, a bright flush 
 passed over her face. She rolled up the book, 
 dropped it on the couch, and rose. Her stature
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 25 
 
 - 3ii- F.; 
 
 was much above the female standard, but 
 every limb and every motion was symmetry 
 and harmony. "A treatise of Theophrastus ; 
 eloquent, ingenious and chimerical. I have 
 a fancy to answer, it." Her voice was full 
 and deep, like the tones of a harp when its 
 chords are struck, by the hand of a master. 
 
 "No one could do it better," replied the 
 sage. " But I should have guessed the aged 
 Peripatetic already silenced by the most acute, 
 elegant, and subtle pen -of Athens," She 
 bowed to the compliment. 
 
 " Is that then the famous Leontium ? " mut- 
 tered Theon. " Timocrates must be a liar." 
 
 " J know not," resumed Leontium, " that I 
 should this evening have so frequently thought 
 Theophrastus wrong, if he had not made me 
 so continually feel that he thought himself 
 right. Must I seek the cause of this in the 
 writer's or the reader's vanity?" 
 
 "Perhaps," said the master, smiling, "you 
 will find that it lies in both." 
 
 "I believe you have it," returned Leontium. 
 " Theophrastus, in betraying his self-love, hurt 
 mine. He who is about to prove that his own 
 way of thinking is right, must bear in mind 
 that he is about also to prove that all other 
 ways of thinking are wrong. And if this 
 should make him slow to enter on t^ie under- 
 2
 
 26 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 taking, it should make him yet more careful, 
 when he does enter on it, to do it with becom- 
 ing modesty. We are surely imperiously call- 
 ed upon to make a sacrifice of our own vanity, 
 before we call upon others to make a sacrifice 
 of theirs. But I would not particularize The- 
 ophrastus for sometimes forgetting this, as I 
 have never known but one who always remem- 
 bers it. Gentleness and modesty are qualities 
 at once the most indispensable to a teacher, 
 and the most rarely possessed by him. It was 
 these that won the ears of the Athenian youth 
 to Socrates, and it is these," inclining to the 
 Master, " that will secure them to Epicurus." 
 " Could I accept your praise, my daughter, I 
 should have no doubt of the truth of your 
 prophecy. For, indeed, the mode of delivering 
 a truth makes, for the most part, as much im- 
 pression on the mind of the listener as the truth 
 itself. It is as hard to receive the words of 
 wisdom from the ungentle, as it is to love, or 
 even to recognize virtue in the austere." He 
 drew near the table as he spoke. Often during 
 supper were the eyes of Theon rivetted on the 
 face of this female disciple. Such grace ! such 
 majesty ! More than all, such intellect ! And 
 this this was the Leontium Timocrates had 
 called a prostitute without shame or measure ! 
 And this was the Epicurus he had blasted with
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 27 
 
 names too vile and horrible to repeat even in 
 thought ! And these continuing his inward 
 soliloquy as he looked round the board these 
 were the devoted victims of the vice of an im- 
 pious master. 
 
 " You arrived most seasonably this even- 
 ing," cried Sofron, addressing the Philosopher; 
 "most seasonably for the lungs of two of your 
 scholars." 
 
 " And for the ears of a third," interrupted Le- 
 ontium. " I was fairly driven into exile." 
 
 "What was the subject?" asked Epicurus. 
 
 "Whether the vicious were more justly ob- 
 jects of indignation or of contempt : Metrodorus 
 argued for the first, and I for the latter. Let 
 the master decide." 
 
 " He will give his opinion certainly ; but that 
 is not decision." 
 
 " Well ; and your opinion is that of ." 
 
 " Neither." 
 
 " Neither ! I had no idea the question had 
 more than two sides." 
 
 " It has yet a third; and I hardly ever heard 
 a question that had not. Had I regarded the 
 vicious with indignation, I had never gained 
 one to virtue. Had I viewed them with con- 
 tempt, I had never sought to gain one." 
 
 " How is it," said Leontium, " that the 
 scholars are so little familiar with the temper of
 
 28 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 their master 7 When did Epicurus look on the 
 vicious with other than compassion? " 
 
 "True," said Metrodorus. "I know not 
 how I forgot this, when perhaps it is the only 
 point which I have more than once, presumed 
 to argue with him : and upon which I have 
 persisted in retaining a different opinion." 
 
 "Talk not of presumption, my son. Who 
 has not a right to think for himself? Or who 
 is he whose voice is infallible, and worthy 
 to silence those of his fellow-men ? And re- 
 member, that your remaining unconvinced by 
 my arguments on one occasion, can only tend 
 to make your conviction more flattering to me 
 upon others. Yet, on the point in question, were 
 I anxious to bring you over to my opinion, I 
 know one, whose argument, better and more 
 forcible than mine, will ere long most effect- 
 ually do so." 
 
 " Who mean you ? " 
 
 "No other than old hoary Time," said the 
 Master, " who, as he leads us gently onwards 
 in the path of life, demonstrates to us many 
 truths that we never heard in the schools, and 
 some that, hearing there, we found hard to re- 
 ceive. Our knowledge of human life must be 
 acquired by our passage through it ; the lessons 
 of the sage are not sufficient to impart it. Our 
 knowledge of men must be acquired by our
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 29 
 
 own study of them ; the report of others will 
 never convince us. When you, my son, have 
 seen more of life, and studied more men, you 
 will find, or at least, I think you will find, that 
 the judgment is not false which makes us leni- 
 ent to the failings yea ! even to the crimes of 
 our fellows. In youth, we act on the impulse 
 of feeling, and we feel without pausing to 
 judge. An action, vicious in itself, or that is 
 so merely in our estimation, fills us with horror, 
 and we turn from its agent without waiting to 
 listen to the plea which his ignorance could 
 make to our mercy. In our ripened years, sup- 
 posing our judgment to have ripened also, 
 when all the insidious temptations that mis- 
 guided him, and all the disadvantages that be 
 has labored under, perhaps from his birth, are 
 apparent to us it is then, and not till then, 
 that our indignation at the crime is lost in our 
 pity of the man." 
 
 " I am the last," said Metrodorus, a crimson 
 blush spreading over his face, " who should 
 object to my master his clemency towards the 
 offending. But there are vices, different from 
 those he saved me from, which, if not more un- 
 worthy, are perhaps more unpardonable, be- 
 cause committed with less temptation; and 
 more revolting, as springing less from thought- 
 less ignorance than calculating depravity."
 
 30 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 " Are we not prone," said the sage, " to ex- 
 tenuate our foibles, even while condemning 
 them ? And does it not flatter our self-love, to 
 weigh our own vices against those of more err- 
 ing neighbors?" 
 
 The scholar leaned forwards, and stooping 
 his face towards the hand of his master, where 
 it rested on the table, laid the deepening crim- 
 son of his cheek upon it. "I mean not to ex- 
 culpate the early vices of Metrodorus. I love 
 to consider them in all their enormity ; for the 
 more heinous the vices of his youth, the greater 
 is the debt of gratitude his manhood has to 
 repay to thee. But tell me," he added, and 
 lifted his eyes to the benignant face of the sage, 
 " tell me, oh ! my friend and guide ! was the 
 soul of Metrodorus, found base or deceitful ; *or 
 has his heart proved false to gratitude and 
 affection?" 
 
 " No, my son, no," said Epicurus, his face 
 beaming with goodness, and a tear glistening 
 in his eye. "No! Vice never choked the 
 warm feelings of thy heart, nor clouded the 
 fair ingenuousness of thy soul. But, my son, a 
 few years later, and who shall say what might 
 have been? Trust me, none can drink of the 
 cup of vice with impunity. But you will say, 
 that there are qualities of so mean or so horrible 
 a nature, as to place the man that is governed by
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 31 
 
 them out of the pale of communion with the 
 virtuous. Malice, cruelty, deceit, ingratitude 
 crimes such as these, should you think, draw 
 down upon those convicted of them no feelings 
 more mild than abhorrence, execration, and 
 scorn. And yet, perhaps, these were not al- 
 ways natural to the heart they now sway. 
 Fatal impressions, vicious example, operating 
 on the plastic frame of childhood, may have 
 perverted all the fair gifts of nature, may have 
 distorted the tender plant from the seedling, 
 and crushed all the blossoms of virtue in the 
 germ. Say, shall we not compassionate the 
 moral disease of our brother, and try our skill 
 to restore him to health 1 But is the evil be- 
 yond cure ? Is the mind strained into change- 
 less deformity, and the heart corrupted in the 
 core ? Greater then, much greater, will be our 
 compassion. For is not his wretchedness 
 complete, when his errors are without hope 
 of correction ? Oh ! my sons ! the wicked 
 may work mischief to others, but they never 
 can inflict a pang such as they endure them- 
 selves. I am satisfied, that of all the miseries 
 that tear the heart of man, none may compare 
 with those it feels beneath the sway of baleful 
 passions." 
 
 " Oh ! " cried Theon, turning with a timid 
 blush towards Epicurus, " I have long owned
 
 32 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 the power of virtue, but surely till this night I 
 never felt its persuasion." 
 
 "I see you were not born for a stoic," said 
 the master smiling, " Why, my son, what made 
 you fall in love with Zeno?" 
 
 " His virtues," said the youth, proudly. 
 
 " His fine face, and fine talking," returned 
 the philosopher, with a tone of playful irony. 
 "Nay ! don't be offended; " and stretched his 
 hand to Theon's shoulder, who reclined on the 
 sofa next him. "I admire your master very 
 much, and go to hear him very often." 
 
 " Indeed!" 
 
 " Indeed 1 Yes, indeed. Is it so Wonderful?" 
 
 "You were riot there" Theori stopped 
 and looked down in confusion. 
 
 " To-day, you mean? Yes, I was; and 
 heard a description of myself that might match 
 in pleasantry with that in ' The Clouds '* of old 
 Socrates. Fray don't you find it very like? " 
 He leaned over the side of the couch, and 
 looked in Theon's face. 
 
 "I I " The youth stammered and 
 looked down. 
 
 " Think it is," said the sage, as if conclud- 
 ing the sentence for him. 
 
 " No, think it is not ; swear it is not ; " burst 
 
 #Alluding to the comedy of Aristophanes, in which 
 Socrates was indecently ridiculed.
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 33 
 
 forth the eager youth, and looked as he would 
 have thrown himself at the philosopher's feet. 
 "Oh ! why did you not stand forth and silence 
 the liar?" 
 
 " Truly, my son, the liar was too pleasant to 
 be angry with, and too absurd to be answered." 
 
 " And yet he was believed ? " 
 
 "Of course." 
 
 "But why then not answer him?" 
 
 "And so I do. I answer him in my life. 
 The only way in which a philosopher should 
 ever answer a fool, or, as in this case, a 
 knave." 
 
 " I am really bewildered," cried Theon, gaz- 
 ing in the philosopher's, and then in Leontium's 
 countenance, and then throwing a glance round 
 the circle. "lam really bewildered with as- 
 tonishment and with shame," he continued, 
 casting down his eyes, " that I should have lis- 
 tened to that liar Timocrates ! What a fool 
 you must think me ! " 
 
 " No more of a fool than Zeno," said the 
 sage, laughing. " What a philosopher listened 
 to, I cannot much blame a scholar for believ- 
 ing." 
 
 " Oh ! that Zeno knew you ! " 
 
 " And then he would certainly hate me." 
 
 " You joke." 
 
 "Quite serious. Don't you know that who 
 
 2*
 
 34 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 quarrels with your doctrine, must always quar- 
 rel with your practice ? Nothing is so provok- 
 ing as that a man should preach viciously and 
 act virtuously." 
 
 " But you do not preach viciously." 
 
 "I hope not. But those will call it so, aye ! 
 and in honest heart think it so, who preach a 
 different, it need not be a better, doctrine." 
 
 " But Zeno mistakes your doctrine." 
 
 " I have no doubt he expounds it wrong." 
 
 " He mistakes it altogether. He believes 
 that you own no other law no other princi- 
 ple of action than pleasure." 
 
 " He believes right." 
 
 "Right? Impossible! That you teach men 
 to laugh at virtue, and to riot in luxury and 
 vice." 
 
 " There he believes wrong." 
 
 Theon looked as he felt, curious and uncer- 
 tain. He gazed first on the philosopher, and, 
 when he did not proceed, timidly round the cir- 
 cle. Every face had a smile on it. 
 
 "The orgies are concluded," said Epicurus, 
 rising, and turning with affected gravity to the 
 young Corinthian. " You have seen the hor- 
 rors of the night ; if they have left any curios- 
 ity for the mysteries of the day, seek our gar- 
 den to-morrow at sunrise, and you shall be in- 
 itiated."
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 35 
 
 : woit 
 
 " brjB ,:>nofC ;'o.^ao:i; mi ii^; ar,vr TBiioMind 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ' !]; . llt j.yji."-."-"' l.3T ;fc '<!.,: iKJ *;* It'iW 1 V-d taft 
 
 r r , ( i (I 1 } ....*'. 1< 
 
 THE steeds of the sun had not mounted the 
 horizon, when Theon took the road to the gar- 
 den. He found the gate open. The path he 
 entered on was broad and even, and shaded on 
 either side by rows of cork, Hrae, oak, and 
 other the finest trees of the forest: pursuing 
 this for some way, he suddenly opened on a 
 fair and varied lawn, through which the Illis- 
 sus, now of the whitest silver in the pale twi- 
 light, stole with a gentle and noiseless course. 
 Crossing the lawn, he struck into a close 
 thicket : the orange, the laurel, and the myrtle, 
 hung over his head, whose flowers, slowly 
 opening to the breeze and light of morning, 
 dropped dews and perfumes. A luxurious indo- 
 lence crept over his soul ; he breathed the airs, 
 and felt the bliss of Elysium. With slow and 
 measured steps he threaded the maze, till he 
 entered suddenly on a small open plot of ver- 
 dure in face of a beautiful temple. The place 
 was three parts encircled with a wood of flow- 
 ering shrubs, the rest was girded by the wind- 
 ing Illissus, over which the eye wandered to 
 glades and softly swelling hills, whose bosoms
 
 36 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 now glowed beneath the dyes of Aurora. The 
 building was small and circular ; Doric, and of 
 the marble of Paros : an open portico, support- 
 ed by twenty pillars, ran round the edifice : 
 the roof rose in a dome. The roseate tints of 
 the east fell on the polished columns, like the 
 blush of love on the cheek of Diana, when she 
 stood before her Endymion. 
 
 Theon stopped: the scene was heavenly. 
 Long had he gazed in silent and calm delight, 
 when his eye was attracted by the waving of a 
 garment on one side of the temple. He ad- 
 vanced, and beheld a figure leaning against one 
 of the pillars. The sun at that moment shot 
 his first beam above the hills : it. fell full upon 
 the face of the son of Neocles : it was raised, 
 and the eyes were fixed as in deep meditation. 
 The features reposed in the calm of wisdom : 
 the arms were folded, and the drapery fell in 
 masses to the feet. Theon flew towards him 
 then suddenly stopped, fearing to break upon 
 his thoughts. At the sound, the sage turned his 
 head, " Welcome, my son," he said, advancing 
 to meet him, " Welcome to the garden of pleas- 
 ure, may you find it the abode of peace, of 
 wisdom, and of virtue." 
 
 Theon bowed his head upon the hand of the 
 master. " Teach me, guide me, make me 
 what you will my soul is in your hand."
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 37 
 
 "It is yet tender, yet pure," said the Garget- 
 tian; "years shall strengthen it Oh! let 
 them not sully it ! See that luminary ! love- 
 ly and glorious in the dawn, he gathers strength 
 and beauty to his meridian, and passes in peace 
 and grandeur to his rest. So do thou, my son. 
 Open your ears and your eyes; know, and 
 choose what is good ; enter the path of virtue, 
 and thou shall follow it, for thou shalt find it 
 sweet. Thorns are not in it, nor is it difficult 
 or steep : like the garden you have now enter- 
 ed, all there is pleasure and repose." 
 
 " Ah ! " cried Theon, " how different is vir- 
 tue in your mouth and in Zeno's." 
 
 "The doctrine of Zeno," replied the sage, 
 " is sublime : many great men shall come from 
 his school; an amiable world, from mine. 
 Zeno hath his eye on man, I mine on men : 
 none but philosophers can be stoics; Epicu- 
 reans all may be." 
 
 " But," asked Theon, " is there more than 
 one virtue 1 " 
 
 "No, but men clothe her differently ; some 
 in clouds and thunders ; some in smiles and 
 pleasures. Doctors, my son, quarrel more 
 about words than things, and more about the 
 means than the end. In the Portico, in the 
 Lycseum, in the Academy, in the school of Py- 
 thagoras, in the Tub of Diogenes, the teacher
 
 00 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 points you to virtue ; in the Garden he points 
 you to happiness. Now open your eyes, my 
 son, and examine the two Deities. Say, are 
 they not the same ? virtue, is it not happiness ? 
 and is not happiness, virtue?" 
 
 "Is this, then, the secret of your doctrine? " 
 
 "No other." 
 
 "But but where then is the dispute? 
 Truly, as you have said, in words not things." 
 
 " Yes, in a great measure, yet not altogether : 
 We are all the wooers of virtue, but we are 
 wooers of a different character." 
 
 'And may she not then favor one, more 
 than another?" 
 
 " That is a question," replied the Gargettian 
 playfully, "that each will answer in his own 
 favor. If you ask me," he continued with one 
 of his sweetest tones and smiles, " I shall 
 say that I feel myself virtuous, because my 
 soul is at rest." 
 
 " If this be your criterion, you should with 
 the stoics deny that pain is an evil." 
 
 " By no means : so much tRe contrary, I hold 
 it the greatest of all evils, and the whole aim 
 of my life, and of my philosophy, is to escape 
 from it. To deny that pain is an evil is such 
 another quibble as the Elean's denial of mo- 
 tion : that must exist to man which exists to 
 his senses; and as to existence or non-existence 
 abstracted. from them, though it may afford an
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. d9 
 
 idle argument for an idle hour, it can never 
 enter as a truth, from which to draw conclu- 
 sions, in the practical lessons of a master. To 
 deny that pain is an evil, seems more absurd 
 than to deny its existence, which has also been 
 done, for its existence is only apparent from its 
 effect upon our senses ; how then shall we ad- 
 mit the existence, and deny the effect, which 
 alone forces that admittance? But we will 
 leave these matters to the dialecticians of the 
 Portico. I feel myself virtuous because my 
 soul is at rest : With evil passions I should 
 be disturbed and uneasy ; with uncontrolled 
 appetites I should be disordered in body as 
 well as mind, for this reason, and for this 
 reason only, I avoid both." 
 
 "Only!" 
 
 "Only: virtue is pleasure; were it not so, I 
 should not follow it." 
 
 Theon was about to break forth in indignant 
 astonishment : the Sage softly laid a hand upon 
 his arm ; and, with a smile and bend of the 
 head demanding attention, proceeded: "The 
 masters who would have us to follow virtue 
 for her own sake, independent of any pleasure 
 or advantage that we may find in the pursuit, 
 are sublime visionaries, who build a theory 
 without examining the ground on which they 
 build it, who advance doctrines without exam-
 
 40 
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 ining principles. Why do I gaze on the Cupid 
 of Praxiteles ? because it is beautiful ; because 
 it gives me pleasurable sensations. If it gave 
 me no pleasurable sensations, should I find it 
 beautiful ; should 1 gaze upon it ; or would 
 you call me wise if then I gave a drachma for 
 its possession 1 What other means have we of 
 judging of things than by the effect they pro- 
 duce upon our senses ? Our senses then being 
 the judges of all things, the aim of all men is 
 to gratify their senses : in other words, their 
 aim is pleasure or happiness : and if virtue 
 were not found to conduce to this, men would 
 do well to shun her, as they now do well to 
 shun vice." 
 
 " You own then no pleasure but virtue, and 
 no misery but vice." 
 
 " Not at all : I think virtue only the high- 
 est pleasure, and vice, or ungoverned passions 
 and appetites, the worst misery. Other pleas- 
 ures are requisite to form a state of perfect 
 ease ; which is happiness ; and other miseries 
 are capable of troubling, perhaps destroying, 
 the peace of the most virtuous and the wisest 
 man." 
 
 " I begin to see more reason in your doc- 
 trine," said the youth, looking up with a timid 
 blush in the face of the Philosopher. 
 
 " And less monstrous depravity," replied the
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 41 
 
 Gargettian, laughing. " My young friend," 
 he continued more seriously, " learn henceforth 
 to form your judgments upon knowledge, not 
 report. Credulity is always a ridiculous, often 
 a dangerous failing : it has made of many a 
 clever man, a fool ; and of many a good man, 
 a knave. But have you nothing to urge 
 against me ? You say you see more reason in 
 my doctrine, which implies that you think me 
 less wrong, but not right." 
 
 " I am a young disputant," answered Theon, 
 " and very unfit to engage with such a mas- 
 ter." 
 
 " That does not follow ; a bad logician may 
 have a good understanding ; and a young mind 
 may be an acute one. If my argument have 
 truth in it, less than a philosopher will see it ; 
 and if it have not, less than a logician may re- 
 fute it." 
 
 "I think I could urge some objections," re- 
 plied Theon; "but they are so confused and 
 indistinct, I almost fear to bring them forth." 
 
 " I dare say I could forestall the most of 
 them," said the Master. " But I had rather 
 leave your mind to its own exercise. Think 
 over the matter at leisure, and you shall start 
 your questions some evening or morning among 
 my scholars. Knowledge is better imparted 
 in a dialogue than a lecture ; and a dialogue is
 
 42 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 not the worse for having more than two inter- 
 locutors. So ! our walk has well ended with 
 our subject. Let us see what friends are here. 
 There are surely voices." 
 
 Their route had been circular, and had 
 brought them again in front of the temple. 
 " This is a favorite lodgment of mine," said 
 the Sage, ascending the noble flight of steps 
 and entering the open door. The apartment, 
 spacious, vaulted, and circular, occupied the 
 whole of the building. The walls were adorn- 
 ed with fine copies of the best pieces of Zeuxis 
 and Parrhasius, and some beautiful originals of 
 Appelles. A statue, the only one in the apart- 
 ment, was raised on a pedestal in the centre. 
 It was a Venus Urania, by the hand of Lysip- 
 pus, well chosen as the presiding deity in the 
 gardens of virtuous pleasure. The ceiling, 
 rising into a noble dome, represented the heav- 
 ens a ground of deep blue ; the stars, sun, 
 and planets in raised gold. But two living fig- 
 ures soon fixed the attention of Theon. In one 
 he recognized Metrodorus, though he had not 
 the evening before much observed his counten- 
 ance. He stood at a painter's easel. His fig- 
 ure was more graceful than dignified, his face 
 more expressive than handsome. The eyes, 
 dark, piercing and brilliant, were bent in a 
 painter's earnest gaze on his living study. The
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 forehead was short, raised much at the temples 
 and singularly over the brows. The hair of a 
 dark glossy brown, short and curled. The 
 cheeks at the moment deeply flushed with the 
 eagerness and, perhaps, the impatience, of an 
 artist. The mouth curled voluptuously, yet 
 not without a mixture of satire ; the chin curv- 
 ed upwards, slightly Grecian, assisted this ex- 
 pression. His study was Leontium. She stood, 
 rather than leaned, against a pilaster of the 
 wall ; one arm supported on a slab of marble, 
 an unrolled book half lying on the same, and 
 half in her opened hand. The other arm, 
 partly hid in the drapery, dropped loosely by 
 her side. Her fine face turned a little over the 
 left shoulder, to meet the eye of the painter. 
 Not a muscle played ; the lips seemed not to 
 breathe : so calm, so pale, so motionless she 
 looked a statue ; so noble, so severely beauti- 
 ful she looked the Minerva of Phidias. 
 
 " I cannot do it ! " cried Metrodorus, flinging 
 down his pencil. "I had need be Appelles, to 
 take that face." He pushed back his easel in 
 disgust. 
 
 " What ! " said Leontium, her fine features 
 relaxing into a heavenly smile, " and is all my 
 patience to go for nothing? " 
 
 " I am a blundering blind Boeotian ! a sav- 
 age Spartan ! " continued the disappointed ar
 
 44 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 list. "There!" and seizing a brush, was 
 about to demolish his work. 
 
 " For your life ! " cried Leontium ; and 
 starting forward, pulled aside his hand. "Oh! 
 the mad ill-temper of a genius ! Why, friend, 
 if my face were half so fine as that, Juno 
 would be jealous of it." 
 
 "And who knows that she is not? A 
 daub ! a vile daub ! " still muttered the impa- 
 tient scholar, yet his face gradually relaxing its 
 anger, as in spite of itself, till it turned to meet 
 Leontium's with a smile. 
 
 " And there stand the Master and the young 
 Corinthian laughing at you," said Leontium. 
 
 They approached. " Are you a judge ? " 
 asked Metrodorus of Theon. 
 
 "I am afraid not, though the confession will 
 mar my compliments." 
 
 " But I am," said the Gargettian humorous- 
 ly : " And though I have all the inclination in 
 the world, yet I cannot quarrel with the per- 
 formance. Well outlined and finely colored. 
 The attitude and air hit exactly. The features 
 too perhaps the only possible perhaps my 
 ill-nature can stumble on, perhaps the expres- 
 sion is too blooming, and less mental than that 
 of the original." 
 
 " Why there there it is ! " cried the scholar,
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 45 
 
 his face resuming all its vexation. " The look 
 of an idiot instead of a genius." 
 
 " Not quite that either : only of a Hebe in- 
 stead of a Juno. More like pur Hedeia." 
 
 " Like a monster ! " muttered the angry ar- 
 tist. "& 
 
 11 Oh ! Hercules, oh ! Hercules ! " cried the 
 sage. " What it is to rub a sore place 1 ]Bet- 
 ter break a man's leg than blow a feather on 
 his razed shin. Had I (turning to Theon) told 
 him he had drawn a humpbacked Thersites he 
 would have blessed me, rather than for this 
 pretty compliment of a blooming-faced Hebe." 
 
 " I might as well have done one as the 
 other : they were equally like the original." 
 
 "I must bow to that compliment," said Le- 
 ontium, laying her hand on her breast, and in- 
 clining with affected gravity to the painter. 
 
 He tried in vain to resist the laugh ; then 
 looking to the master "What would you 
 have me turn it to 1 )} 
 
 " As you object to a Hebe, to a philosopher 
 by all means. Silver the head a little, it may 
 be an admirable Epicurus." 
 
 (l Nay ! don't make the madman furious," 
 said Leontium, placing her hand on Metrodo- 
 rus's shoulder ; then, addressing Theon," Pray, 
 young man, if you want to be a philosopher, 
 never find an eye for painting, a finger for mu-
 
 4t> A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 sic, or a brain for poetry. Any one of these 
 will keep a man from wisdom." 
 
 " But not a woman, I suppose," retorted 
 Metrodorus, " as you have all three." 
 
 "Ready at compliments this morning: but 
 if you wanted a bow for this, you should have 
 given it with a more gracious face. But come, 
 my poor friend ; we will try to put you in good 
 humor Nothing like a little flattery for this. 
 Here, my young Corinthian ! (walking to the 
 other side of the room to a newly finished pic- 
 ture that stood against the wall, and beckoning 
 Theon towards her) you may without skill 
 perceive the beauty of this work, and the ex- 
 cellence of the likeness." 
 
 It was indeed striking. "Admirable!" 
 cried Theon after a long gaze of admiration, 
 and then turning to compare it with the orig- 
 inal. 
 
 " A little flattered, and more than a little, I 
 fear," said Epicurus with a smile, as he moved 
 towards them. 
 
 "Flattered!" exclaimed Metrodorus; "a 
 Parrhasius could not flatter such an original." 
 
 "You see how my scholars spoil me," said 
 the Gargettian to Theon. 
 
 "But you think," continued Metrodorus, 
 " that I have done it common justice." 
 
 "Much more than common: It is your
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 47 
 
 master's self. The dignity of his figure, the 
 grace of his attitude, the nobility of his fea- 
 tures, the divine benignity of his expression. 
 Had we not the original to worship, we might 
 worship your copy." 
 
 They were interrupted by the entrance of a 
 crowd of disciples, in the midst of whose salu- 
 tations young Sofron rushed in, breathless with 
 running and convulsed with laughter. 
 
 5'A.i.' ' ''J'iu ' { lis '"I J6tl f T . < i * i .!.! f /
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 * 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 jHvHiif 'f-;.' , .IVTV--.V ul l.-;-;iJt--VG '*(if foM v 
 
 " PREPARE yourselves ! Prepare yourselves ! " 
 cried the panting scholar. "Oh! Pollux! 
 such a couple ! The contrast might convulse a 
 Scythian." 
 
 "What is it? What is the matter?" cried 
 a dozen voices. 
 
 "I'll explain directly Give me breath 
 and yet I must be quick, for they are close on 
 my heels. Gryphus, the cynic some of you 
 must have seen him. Well, he's coming side 
 by side with young Lycaon." 
 
 " Coming here ! " said the master smiling. 
 " What can have procured me the honor of 
 such a visit?" 
 
 " Oh ! your fame, of course." 
 
 " I suspect you are making a fool of the old 
 cynic," said Epicurus. 
 
 " Nay, if he be a fool, he is one without my 
 assistance : Lycaon and I were standing on the 
 steps of the Prytaneum, disputing about some- 
 thing, I forget what, when by came Gryphus, 
 and stopping short at bottom of the steps, ' Are 
 you disciples of Epicurus, of Gargettium ? ' 
 ' We are,' answered I ; for Lycaon only stood
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 49 
 
 staring in amazement. c You may show me 
 the way to him then.' ' With all my heart,' I 
 again replying, Lycaon not yet finding his 
 tongue. ' We are, at present, for the Gardens, 
 and shall hold it an honor to be conductors to 
 so extraordinary a personage.' I wanted to 
 put him between us, but Lycaon seemed un- 
 ambitious of his share in this distinction, for, 
 stepping back, he slipped round to my other side. 
 Oh ! Jupiter ! I shall never forget the contrast 
 between my two companions. The rough, 
 dirty, hairy cynic on my right hand, and the 
 fine, smooth, delicate, pretty Aristippian on 
 my left. We brought the whole street at our 
 heels. Lycaon would have slunk away, bujt J 
 held him tight by the sleeve. When we were 
 fairly in the Gardens, I gave them the slip at 
 a cross-path, and run on before to give timely 
 notice, as you see. But, lo ! Behold ! " 
 
 The two figures now appeared at the door. 
 The contrast was not much less singular than 
 the scholar had represented ; and there was a 
 sort of faint prelude to a universal laugh, 
 which, however, a timely look from the Master 
 instantly quelled. Lycaon, from the lightness 
 of his figure, and delicacy of his features and 
 complexion, might have been mistaken for a 
 female : his skin had the whiteness of the lily, 
 and the blushing red of the rose : his lips the
 
 50 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 vermil of coral : his hair soft and flowing ; in 
 texture, silk ; in color, gold : his dress was 
 chosen with studied nicety, and disposed with 
 studied elegance : the tunic of the whitest and 
 finest linen, fastened at the shoulder with a 
 beautiful onyx : the sash of exquisite embroid- 
 ery, and the robe of the richest Tyrian. falling 
 in luxuriant folds from the shoulders, and over 
 the right arm, which gracefully sustained its 
 length, for the greater convenience in walking: 
 the sandals, purple, with buttons of gold. Gry- 
 phus, short, square, and muscular ; his tunic of 
 the coarsest and not the cleanest woollen, in 
 some places worn threadbare, and with one 
 open rent of considerable magnitude that 
 proved the skin to be as well engrained as its 
 covering ; his girdle, a rope : his cloak, or 
 rather rag, had the appearance of a sail taken 
 from the wreck of an old trader : his feet bare, 
 and thickly powdered with dust : of his face, 
 little more might be distinguished than the 
 nose ; the lower part being obscured by a 
 bushy and wide-spreading beard, and the up- 
 per, by a profusion of long, tangled and grisly 
 hair. The wondering disciples opened a pas- 
 sage for this singular intruder, who, without 
 looking to the right or the left, walked on, and 
 stopped before Epicurus. 
 
 " 1 suppose you are the Master, by the need-
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 51 
 
 less trouble I see you take, in coming to meet 
 me." 
 
 " When Gryphus has possibly walked a mile 
 to meet Epicurus, Epicurus may without much 
 trouble walk a step to meet Gryphus." 
 
 " In my walk of a mile," returned the cynic, 
 " there was no trouble : I took it for my own 
 pleasure." 
 
 " And my walk of a step I also took for 
 mine." 
 
 " Aye, the pleasure of ceremony ! " 
 
 " I may hope, then, this your visit is from 
 something more than ceremony perhaps a 
 feeling of real friendship, or as a mark of your 
 good opinion." 
 
 "I hate useless words," returned the cynic, 
 " and am not come here either to make any, or 
 hearken to any. I have heard you much talked 
 of lately. Our streets and our porticoes buzz 
 eternally with your name, till now all wise 
 men are weary of it. I come to tell you this, 
 and to advise you to shut the gates of your gar- 
 dens forthwith, and to cease the harangues of a 
 master; since you only pass for a philosopher 
 among fools, and for a fool among philoso- 
 phers." 
 
 " I thank you for your honest advice and in- 
 formation, friend; but as the object of a mas- 
 ter is riot to teach the wise, but only the un-
 
 52 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 wise, do you not think I may still harangue 
 among fools to some little purpose, though Gry- 
 phus, and all sages, will of course justly hold 
 me in contempt 1 " 
 
 " And so that fools may be made wise, the 
 wise are to be plagued with folly? " 
 
 "Nay, you would surely cease to think that 
 folly which could make a fool wise." 
 
 * { A fool wise ! And who but a fool would 
 think that possible ? " 
 
 " I grant it were difficult : but may it not 
 also sometimes be difficult to discover who is a 
 fool, and who not? Among my scholars 
 there, some doubtless may be fools, and some 
 possibly may not be fools." 
 
 "No," interrupted the cynic; "or they 
 would not be your scholars." 
 
 "Ah ! I being a fool myself. Well remind- 
 ed ! I had forgot that was one of our premises. 
 But then, I being a fool, and all my scholars 
 being fools, I do not see how much harm can 
 be done, either by my talking folly, or their 
 hearkening to it." 
 
 " No, if wise men were not forced to hearken 
 also. I tell you that our streets and our porti- 
 coes buzz with your name and your nonsense. 
 Keep all the fools of Athens in your gardens, 
 and lock the gates, and you may preach folly 
 as long and as loud JELS you please."
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 53 
 
 "I have but one objection to this ; namely, 
 that my gardens would not hold all the fools 
 of Athens. Suppose, therefore, the -wise men, 
 being a smaller body, were shut into a garden, 
 and the city and the rest of Attica left for the 
 fools ? " 
 
 "I told you," cried the cynic, in a voice of 
 anger, " that I hate useless words." 
 
 " Nay, friend, why then walk a mile to 
 speak advice to me ? No words so Useless as 
 those thrown at a fool." 
 
 " Very true, very true ; " and so saying, the 
 stranger turned his back, and quitted the tem- 
 ple. 
 
 " There," said the son of Neocles to his smil- 
 ing disciples, " is a good warning to any, or all 
 of us, who would be philosophers." 
 
 " Nay, master," cried Soft-oil, " do you think 
 Us in danger of following the pleasant example 
 of this savage 7 Do you, indeed, expect to see 
 Lycaon there, with beard, head and clothing, 
 after the fashion of Gryphus? " 
 
 " Not beard, head and clothing, perhaps," 
 answered the Gargettian ; "pride, vanity, and 
 ambition, may take less fearful coverings than 
 these." 
 
 "Pride, vanity, and ambition? I should 
 rather suspect Gryphus df'the want of all 
 three."
 
 54 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 " Nay, my son, believe me all those three 
 qualities were concerned in the carving of those 
 three frightful appendages of our cynic's per- 
 son. Pride need not always lead a man to cut 
 mount Athos in two, like Xerxes ; nor ambi- 
 tion, to conquer a world, and weep that there 
 is yet not another to conquer, like Alexander ; 
 nor vanity, to look in a stream at his own face 
 till he fall in love with it, like Narcissus. 
 When we cannot cut an Athos, we may leave 
 uncut our beard ; when we cannot mount a 
 throne, we may crawl into a tub ; and when 
 we have no beauty, we may increase our ugli- 
 ness. If a man of small, or even of moderate 
 talents, be smitten with a great desire of dis- 
 tinction, there is nothing too absurd, perhaps 
 nothing too mischievous, for him to commit. 
 Our friend, the cynic, happily for himself and 
 his neighbors, seems disposed to rest with the 
 absurd. Erostratus took to the mischievous 
 to eternize his name destroying that temple, by 
 the building of which Ctesiphon immortalized 
 his. Be it our care to keep equally clear of the 
 one as of the other." 
 
 " Do you, then," asked Theon, " think a de- 
 sire of distinction a vicious desire?" 
 
 "I think it is often a dangerous desire, and 
 very often an unhappy one." 
 
 "But surely very often a fortunate one,"
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 55 
 
 said Leontium. "Without it, would there 
 ever have been a hero? " 
 
 "And perhaps returned the sage, with a 
 smile, " the world might have been as happy if 
 there had not." 
 
 " Well, without arguing for an Achilles, 
 would there have been a Homer ? " 
 
 " I agree with you," replied the Master, 
 more seriously. "The desire of distinction; 
 though often a dangerous, and often an un- 
 happy desire, is likewise often, though I believe 
 here sometimes were a better word, a fortunate 
 one. It is dangerous in the head of a fool ; 
 unhappy, in that of a man of moderate abili- 
 ties, or unfavorable situation, who can conceive 
 a noble aim. but lacks the talent or the means 
 necessary for its attainment. It is fortunate 
 only in the head of a genius, the heart of a 
 sage, and in a situation convenient for its 
 development and gratification. These three 
 things you will allow do not often meet in one 
 person." 
 
 " Yet," said Theon, " how many great men 
 has Athens produced ? " 
 
 " But it is not a consequent that they were 
 happy ? " 
 
 " Happy or not happy, who would refuse 
 their fate?" 
 
 " I like that feeling," replied the Garget-
 
 56 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 tian ; "nor do I dissent from it. The fate of 
 greatness will always be enviable, even when 
 the darkest storms trouble its course. Well- 
 merited fame has in itself a pleasure so much 
 above all pleasures, that it may weigh in the 
 balance against all the accumulated evils of 
 mortality. Grant then our great men to have 
 been fortunate; are they, as you say, so 
 many ? Alas ! my son, we may count them 
 on our fingers. A generation, the most bril- 
 liant in genitis, leaves out of its thousands and 
 millions but three or four, or a dozen, to the 
 worship, even to the knowledge of futurity." 
 
 " And these, only these three, four, or a 
 dozen, have a right to the desire of distinc- 
 tion?" 
 
 "As to the right," replied the sage, play- 
 fully, "I mean not to dispute that. The right 
 lies with all men in our democracy to sit in a 
 tub, or to walk in a dirty tunic." 
 
 " But you will allow of no end in ambition 
 but an absurd one." 
 
 " I have not expressed myself well, or you 
 have not understood me well, if you draw that 
 conclusion. 1 surely have granted our great 
 men to have had great ends of ambition." 
 
 " But is it only great men, or men destined 
 to be great, that may have such ends ? " 
 
 " I allowed that others might ; 1 only said
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 57 
 
 that they would be unhappy in consequence. 
 The perfection of wisdom, and the end of true -L 
 philosophy, is to proportion our wants to our 
 possessions, our ambitions to our capacities." 
 
 "Then," cried Metrodorus, "I have substan- 
 tially proved myself this morning to be no phi- 
 losopher, when I chose a study beyond the 
 reach of my pencil." 
 
 " No," said Leontium, playfully tapping his 
 shoulder, " the Master will make a distinction 
 between what is beyond the reach of our ca- 
 pacity, and what beyond the reach of our prac- 
 tice. Erostratus might never have planned the 
 edifice he destroyed ; Ctesiphon could not al- 
 ways have planned it." The smile that ac- 
 companied these words, lighted one yet more 
 brilliant in the face of Metrodorus. Theon 
 guessed that he fek more than admiration and 
 more than friendship for this female disciple. 
 
 " Your remark was well timed and well 
 pointed," said the Master, " and has saved me 
 some talking." 
 
 "I am not sure of that," cried Sofron, step- 
 ping forwards ; "for though Leontium has so 
 nicely worded the distinction between want of 
 capacity and want of practice in the general, I 
 should like to be told, how a man is to make 
 this distinction between his own in particular? 
 For instance, I have a fancy to turn philoso- 
 
 3*
 
 58 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 pher, and supersede my master ; how am I to 
 tell, at my first nonplus in logic or invention, 
 whether the defect be in my capacity or my 
 practice ? " 
 
 " If it be only in the last, I apprehend you 
 will easily perceive it ; if in the first, not so 
 readily. A man, if he set about the search, 
 will quickly discover his talents ; he may con- 
 tinue it to his death without discovering his 
 deficiencies. The reason is plain ; the one 
 hurts our self-love, the other flatters it." 
 
 " And yet," interrupted Theon, " I think, in 
 my first interview with the Philosopher of 
 Gargettium, he remarked, that thousands had 
 the seeds of excellence in them who never 
 found them out." 
 
 "I see you have a good memory," returned 
 the Master, " I did say so, and I think it still. 
 Many might have been heroes, and many phi- 
 losophers, had they had a desire to be either ; 
 had accident or ambition made them look into 
 themselves, and inquire into their powers ; but 
 though jewels be hid in a sack of oats, they 
 will never be found, unless the oats be shaken. 
 Remember, however, we are now speaking of 
 one class of men only the ambitious : and 
 the ambitious will never have any seeds in 
 them, bad or good, that will not generate and 
 produce their proper fruit. Ambition is the
 
 A FfiW CAYS IN ATHENS. 59 
 
 spur, and the necessary spur, of a great mind 
 to great action; when acting upon a week 
 mind it impels it to absurdity, or sours it with 
 discontent." 
 
 " Nay, then," said Sofron, "'tis but a dan- 
 gerous inmate, as minds go ; and I, for one, 
 had better have none of it, for I doubt I am 
 not born to be an Epicurus, and I am certain I 
 have no inclination to be a Gryphus." 
 
 " Well," said the Master, " we have at least 
 to thank Gryphus for our morning's dialogue. 
 If any of us wish to prosecute it farther, we 
 may do it over our repast the sun has 
 reached his noon, so let us to the bath." 
 
 They left the temple, and crossing the gar- 
 dens in an opposite direction from that by 
 which Theon had entered, soon reached a gate, 
 which, to his surprise, opened on a court at the 
 back of the Gargettian's house, the same in 
 which he had supped the preceding evening.
 
 60 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 -nab -i :;jff rif ll .I'iir*' ; ?->:sa ".it-'lt .-(/:/. 
 
 THE fervor of the day had declined, when 
 Theon issued to the street from the house of 
 Epicurus : at that instant he met in the face 
 his friend Cleanthes ; he ran to his embrace ; 
 but the young stoic, receding with mingled as- 
 tonishment and horror " Ye gods ! from the 
 house of Epicurus ? " 
 
 " I do not marvel at your surprise," returned 
 Theon, " nor, if I recall my own feelings of yes- 
 terday, at your indignation." 
 
 "Answer me quickly," interrupted Clean- 
 thes ; "is Theon yet my friend ?." 
 ;!" And does Cleanthes doubt it? " 
 
 " What may I not doubt, when I see you 
 come from such a mansion ? " 
 
 " Nay, my brother," said Theon, kindly 
 throwing his arm round the neck of his friend, 
 and drawing him onwards, " I have been in 
 no mansion of vice, or of folly." 
 
 "I do not understand you," returned the 
 stoic, but half yielding to his kindness ; "I do 
 not know what to think, or what to fear." 
 
 "Fear nothing; and think only good," said 
 the Corinthian : " True, I come from the gar-
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 61 
 
 dens of pleasure, where I have heard very little 
 of pleasure, and a very great deal of virtue." 
 
 " I see how it is," returned the other ; " you 
 have lost your principles, and I, my friend." 
 
 "I do not think I have lost the first, and I 
 am very sure you have not lost the last ! " 
 
 "No!" exclaimed Cleanthes; "but I tell 
 you, yes ; " and his cheeks flushed, and his 
 eyes flashed with indignation : "I have lost 
 my friend, and you have lost yours. Go ! " he 
 continued, and drew himself from the arm of 
 Theon. " Go ! Cleanthes hath no fellowship 
 with an apostate and a libertine." 
 
 " You wrong me ; and you wrong Epicu- 
 rus," said his friend, in a tone of more re- 
 proach than anger : "But I cannot blame you ; 
 yesterday I had myself been equally unjust. 
 You must see him, you must hear him, Clean- 
 thes. This alone can undeceive you can 
 convince you ; convince you of my innocence, 
 and Epicurus's virtue." 
 
 " Epicurus' s virtue! your innocence? 
 What is Epicurus to me? What is he, or 
 should he be to you ? Your innocence ? And 
 is this fastened to the mantle of Epicurus : see 
 him to be convinced of your innocence ? " 
 
 " Yes, and of your own injustice : Oh ! 
 Cleanthes, what a fool do I now know myself 
 to have been ! To have listened to the lies of
 
 62 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 Timocrates ! To have believed all his absur- 
 dities ! Come, my friend ! come with me and 
 behold the face of the Master he blasphemes ! " 
 
 "Theon. one master, and but one master, is 
 mine. To me, whether Timocrates exagger- 
 ate or even lie, it matters nothing." 
 
 "It does, or it should," said the Corinthian. 
 " Will a disciple of Zeno not open his eyes to 
 truth ? Not see an error and atone for it, by 
 acknowledging it ? I do not ask you to be the 
 disciple of Epicurus I only ask you to be 
 just to him, and that for your own sake, more 
 than mine, or even his." 
 
 "I see you are seduced I see you are 
 lost," cried the stoic, fixing on him a look in 
 which sorrow struggled with indignation. " I 
 thought myself a stoic, but I feel the weakness 
 of a woman in my eyes. Thou wert as my 
 brother, Theon ; and thou thou also art be- 
 guiled by the Syren left virtue for pleasure, 
 Zeno for Epicurus." 
 
 "I have not left Zeno." 
 
 " You cannot follow both you cannot be 
 in the day and under the night at one and the 
 same time." 
 
 " I tell you there is no night in the gardens 
 of Epicurus." 
 
 " Is there ho pleasure there," cried the stoic, 
 his mouth and brows curling with irony.
 
 A FEW DAYS IN AtHENS, 63 
 
 " Yes, there is pleasure there : the pleasure 
 of wisdom and virtue." 
 
 "Ah! have you learnt theXjargettian sul>- 
 tleties so soon 1 You have doubtless already 
 worshipped virtue under the form of the cour- 
 tezan Leontium; and wisdom under that of 
 her master and paramour, the son of Neocles." 
 
 "How little you know of either ! " returned 
 Theon. " But I knew as little yesterday." 
 
 Cleanthes stopped. They were before the 
 stoic portico. "Farewell! Return to your 
 gardens. Farewell ! " 
 
 " We do not yet part," said Theon : " Zeno 
 is still my master." He followed his friend up 
 the steps. A crowd of disciples were assem- 
 bled, waiting the arrival of their master. 
 Some, crowded into groups, listened to the har- 
 angues of an elder or more able scholar : others 
 walking in parties of six or a dozen, reasoning, 
 debating, and disputing: while innumerable 
 single figures, undisturbed by the buzz around 
 them, leaned against the pillars, studying each 
 from a manuscript, or stood upon the steps 
 with arms folded, arid heads dropped on their 
 bosoms, wraped in silent meditations. At the 
 entrance of Cleanthes, the favored pupil of 
 their master, the scholars made way, and the 
 loud hum slowly hushed into silence. He ad- 
 vanced to the centre, and the floating crowd
 
 64 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 gathered and compressed into a wide and deep 
 circle. All eyes bent on the youth in expec- 
 tant curiosity, for his countenance was dis- 
 turbed, and his manner abrupt. 
 
 Cleanthes was of the middle size : so slen- 
 der, that you wondered at the erectness of his 
 gate and activity of his motion. His neck was 
 small; his shoulders falling; his head ele- 
 gantly formed ; the hair smooth and close cut ; 
 the forehead narrow, and somewhat deeply 
 lined for one so young : the eyebrows marked 
 and even, save a slight bend upwards, as by a 
 frown, above the nose. The eyes blue ; but 
 their gaze was too earnest, and their spirit too 
 clear, to leave any of the melting softness so 
 usual with that color: And yet there were 
 moments when this would appear in them ; 
 and when it did, it went to the soul of him 
 who observed it, but such moments were short 
 and rare. The nose was finely and perhaps 
 too delicately turned ; the mouth mild and 
 always in repose. The cheeks were thin, and 
 though slightly flushed, the face had a look of 
 paleness till enthusiasm awoke, and deepened 
 all its dyes. The whole expression had more 
 spirituality and variety, and the manner more 
 agitation, than you would have looked for in 
 the first and favorite pupil of Zeno. The 
 youth turned a rapid glance round the circle :
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 65 
 
 he threw out his right arm ; the mantle dropped 
 from his shoulder, and in a varied, piercing, 
 and yet melodious voice he began 
 
 " My friends ! My brothers ! Disciples of 
 Zeno and of virtue. Give me your ears, and 
 awake your faculties ! How shall I tell the 
 dangers that surround you 1 How shall I 
 paint the demon that would ensnare you ; 
 Timocrates hath escaped from his enchant- 
 ments, and told us that riot and revelling were 
 in his halls, that impiety was in his mouth; 
 vice in his practice ; deformity in his aspect : 
 and we thought that none but souls born for 
 error, already steeped in infamy, or sunk in 
 effeminacy, could be taken in his toils and se- 
 duced by his example. But behold ! he hath 
 changed his countenance he hath changed 
 his tongue : amid his revels he hath put on 
 the garb of decency : in his riot he talks of 
 innocence; in his licentiousness, of virtue. 
 Behold the youth ! they run to him with greedy 
 ears they throng his gardens and his porti- 
 coes. Athens, Attica, Greece, all are the Gar- 
 gettian's. Asia, Italy, the burning Africa and 
 the frozen Scythia all, all send ready pupils 
 to his feet. Oh! what shall we say? Oh! 
 how shall we stem the torrent ? Oh ! how 
 shall we fence our hearts how our ears from 
 the song of the Syren? to what mast shall
 
 66 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 we bind ourselves, to what pilot shall we trust, 
 that we may pass the shores in safety without 
 dashing on the rocks ? But why do I speak ? 
 Why do I enquire ? Why do I exhort 1 -Is 
 not the contagion already among us ? In 
 the school of Zeno in this portico in this 
 circle are there not waverers Yea, are there 
 not apostates ? " Emotion choked his utter- 
 ance : he paused, and glanced his kindled eyes 
 round upon the audience. Every hreath was 
 held in expectation ; each looked on the other 
 in doubt, dismay, and inquiry. Theon's heart 
 beat quick and high : he advanced one step, 
 and raised his arm to speak ; but Cleanthes, 
 gathering his breath, again in a rapid voice 
 continued : 
 
 " Does this silence speak conscious guilt, or 
 startled innocence ? The last : I will believe 
 the last. Praise be to the gods ! praise to our 
 guardian, Minerva! praise to our great, our 
 glorious master, there are yet some sons left to 
 Athens and to Greece, who shall respect, fol- 
 low, and attain to virtue! Some choice and 
 disciplined souls who shall stand forth the light 
 and ornament of their age, and whose names 
 shall be in honor with those yet unborn. 
 Rouse, rouse up your energies ! Oh ! be firm 
 to Zeno, and to virtue ! 1 tell you not Zeno 
 tells you not, that virtue is found in pleasure's
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 67 
 
 repose. Resistance, energy, watchfulness, pa- 
 tience, and endurance these, these must be 
 your practice, must be your habit, ere you can 
 reach the perfection of your nature. The as- 
 cent is steep, is long, is arduous. To-day you 
 must ascend a step, and to-morrow a step, and 
 to-morrow, and to-morrow and yet shall 
 you be far from the summit, from rest, and 
 from security. Does this appal you? Does 
 this disgust you ? Go then to the Gardens ! 
 Go to the man of Gargettium he who calls 
 himself philosopher, and who loves and teaches 
 folly ! Go, go to him, and he shall encourage 
 and soothe you. He shall end your pursuit, 
 and give you your ambition ! He shall show 
 you virtue robed in pleasures, and lolling in 
 ease ! He shall teach you wisdom in a song, 
 and happiness in impiety ! But I am told, 
 that Timocrates hath lied ; that Epicurus is 
 not a libertine ; nor Leontium a prostitute ; nor 
 the youth of the Garden the ministers to their 
 lusts. Be it so. Timocrates must answer to 
 himself, whether his tale be the outpourings of 
 indignant truth, or the subtle inventions of ma- 
 levolence : with his own conscience be the se- 
 cret : to us it matters nothing. We, who have 
 nought to do with the doctrines of Epicurus, 
 have nought to do with his practice. Let him 
 who would vindicate the one, vindicate the
 
 69 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 other: let him come forth and say, that the 
 master in the Gardens is not only pure in ac- 
 tion, but perfect in theory. Let him say, that 
 he Worships virtue as virtue, and shuns vice as 
 vice. Let him say that he arms the soul with 
 fortitude, enobles it with magnanimity, chast- 
 ens it with temperance, enlarges it with benefi- 
 cence, perfects it With justice ; and let him 
 moreover say, that he does this, not that the 
 soul so schooled and invigorated may lie in the 
 repose of virtue; but that it may exult in its 
 honor, and be fitted for its activity. Fie on 
 that virtue which prudence alone directs ! 
 Which teaches to be just that the laws may 
 not punish, or our neighbors revenge: to be 
 enduring because complainings were useless, 
 and weakness would bring on us insult and 
 contempt : to be temperate that our body 
 may keep its Vigor, our appetites retain their 
 acuteness, and our gratifications and sensuali- 
 ties their zest : to serve our friends that 
 they may serve us; our country because 
 its defence and well-being comprehends our 
 own. Why all this is well but is there 
 nothing more? Is it our ease alone we shall 
 study, and not our dignity? Though all my 
 fellow-men were swept away, and not a mor- 
 tal nor immortal eye were left to approve or 
 condemn should I not here within this
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 69 
 
 breast, have a judge to dread, and a friend to 
 conciliate ? Prudence and pleasure ! Was if 
 from such principles as these that the virtue of 
 Solon, of Miltiades, of Aristides, of Socrates, of 
 Plato, of Xenopfyon, of all our heroes and all 
 our sages, had its spring and its nourishment ? 
 Was it such virtue as this that in Lycurgus 
 put by the offered crown ? that in Leonidas 
 stood at Thermopylae? that in the dying 
 Pericles gloried that he had never caused a cit- 
 izen to mourn ? Was it such virtue as this 
 that spoke in Socrates before his judges ? - 
 that sustained him in his prison and when 
 the door was open, and the sails, of the ready 
 ship unfurled, made him prefer death to flight ; 
 hi^ dignity to his existence ? " 
 
 Again the young orator paused, but hi in- 
 dignant soul seemed still to speak frpm his 
 flashing eyes. His cheeks glowed as fire, and 
 the big drops rolled from his forehead. At 
 this moment the circle behind him gave way 
 Zeno advanced into the midst : lie stjopd by the 
 head and shoulders above the crowd : his 
 breast, broad and manly : his limbs, cast in 
 strength and symmetry : his gait, erect, calm, 
 and dignified : his features, large, grand, and 
 regular, seemed sculptured by the chisel for a 
 collossal divinity: the forehead, broad and se- 
 rene, was marked with the even lines of wis-
 
 70 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 dom and age ; but no harsh wrinkles, nor play- 
 ing muscles disturbed the repose of his cheeks, 
 nor had sixty years touched with one thread of 
 silver his close black hair ; the eyes, dark and 
 full, fringed with long straight lashes, looked in 
 severe and steady wisdom from under their 
 correct and finely arched brows : the nose 
 came from the forehead, straight and even : the 
 mouth and chin, were firm and silent. Wis- 
 dom undisturbable, fortitude unshakeable, self- 
 respect, self-possession, and self-knowledge per- 
 fected, were in his face, his carriage, and his 
 tread. 
 
 He stopped before the youth, who had turned 
 at his approach. " My son," fixing his calm 
 gaze on the working countenance of his pupil. 
 " what hath disturbed thy soul? " Cleanthes 
 laid a hand on his laboring breast : he made 
 one violent effort for composure and speech : it 
 failed. The hot blood forsook his cheeks : it 
 rushed again : again it fled : he gasped, and 
 dropped fainting at the feet of his Master.
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. - 71 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THEON rushed forward : He knelt ; he raised 
 the head of his friend : Breathless, agitated, 
 terrified, he called his name with the piercing 
 cry of agony and despair. All was commotion 
 and confusion. The scholars pressed forward 
 tumultuously ; but Zeno, raising his arm, and 
 looking steadily round, cried " Silence ! " The 
 crowd fell back, and the stillness of night suc- 
 ceeded. Then motioning the circle towards 
 the street, to give way and admit the air, he 
 stooped and assisted Theon to support his re- 
 viving pupil. Cleanthes raised his head, 
 turned his eyes wildly around, and then fixed 
 them on his master. 
 
 " Gently," said Zeno, as the youth strug- 
 gled in their arms for recollection, " gently, my 
 son." But he made the effort : he gained his 
 feet, and throwing out his arm to a pillar near 
 him, turned his head aside, and for some mo- 
 ments combated with his weakness in silence. 
 His limbs still trembled, and his face had yet 
 the hues of death, when, pressing Jiis hand 
 with convulsive strength against the pillar, he 
 proudly drew up his form, turned his eyes
 
 72 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 again upon his master, and mustering his bro- 
 ken respiration, "Blame me, but do not de- 
 spise me." 
 
 " I shall do neither, my son : the weakness 
 was in the body, not the mind." 
 
 " There has been want of command in both. 
 I ask not to be excused." Then turning round 
 to his companions, " I may be a warning if not 
 an example. The Spartans expose the drunk- 
 enness of their Helots to confirm their youth in 
 sobriety : let the weakness of Clean thes teach 
 the sons of Zeno equanimity ; and let them 
 say, If in the portico weakness be found, what 
 shall it be in the Gardens 1 But," he contin- 
 ued, addressing his master, " will Zeno pardon 
 the scholar who, while enforcing his nervous 
 doctrines on others, has swerved from them 
 himself?" 
 
 " Thou judgest thy fault as thou shouldst 
 judge it," returned Zeno ; " but comfort, my 
 son ! He who knows, and knowing can ac- 
 knowledge his deficienpy, though his foot be 
 not on the summit, yet hath he his eye there. 
 But say the cause, and surely it must be a 
 great one, that coulii disturb the self-possession 
 of my disciple." 
 
 " The cause was indeed a great one ; no less 
 than the apostacy of a scholar from Zeno to 
 Epicurus."
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 73 
 
 Zeno turned his eyes round the circle : there 
 was no additional severity in them, and no 
 change in his manner, or in his deep, sonorous 
 voice, when, addressing them, he said, "If one 
 or more, or all of my disciples be wearied of 
 virtue, let them depart. Let them not fear up- 
 braidings or exhortations ; the one were useless 
 to you, the other unworthy of me. He who 
 sighs for pleasure, the voice of wisdom can 
 never reach, nor the power of virtue touch. In 
 this Portico truth will never be softened to 
 win a sickly ear ; nor the severity of virtue, 
 will it ever be veiled to win a feeble heart. 
 He who obeys in act and not in thought; 
 he who disciplines his body and not his 
 mind ; he who hath his foot in the Portico, 
 and his heart in the Gardens ; he hath no 
 more to do with Zeno, than a wretch sunk in 
 all the effeminacy of a Median, or the gross 
 debauchery of a Scythian. There is no mid- 
 way in virtue ; no halting place for the soul 
 but perfection. You must be all, or you may 
 be nothing. You must determine to proceed 
 to the utmost, or I encourage ye not to begin. 
 I say to ye, one and all, give me your ears, 
 your understandings, your souls, and your en- 
 ergies, or depart!" Again he looked round 
 upon his scholars. A long and deep silence
 
 74 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 succeeded : when young Theon, breaking 
 through his awe, and his timidity, advanced 
 into the centre, and craving sufferance with 
 his hand, addressed the assembly. 
 
 " Though I should forfeit the esteem of 
 Zeno and the love of his disciples, I have 
 no choice hut to speak. Honor and justice 
 demand this of me : first, to remove suspicion 
 from this assembly ; next, to vindicate the 
 character of a sage whom the tongue of a liar 
 hath traduced; and, lastly, to conciliate my 
 own esteem, which I value beyond even the 
 esteem of the venerated Zeno, and of my be- 
 loved Cleanthes." He paused; and turning 
 to Zeno, " With permission of the master, I 
 would speak." 
 
 "Speak, my son: we attend." Zeno re- 
 treated among his disciples ; and Cleanthes, 
 anxious and agitated for his friend, placed 
 himself behind the screen of a pillar. With a 
 varying cheek and a tremulous voice, the 
 youth began : 
 
 "In addressing an assembly accustomed to 
 the manly elocution of a Zeno, and the glow- 
 ing eloquence of a Cleanthes, I know I shall 
 be forgiven by my companions, and I hope 
 even by my severe master, the blushes and 
 hesitations of timidity and inexperience. I 
 open my mouth for the first time in public ;
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 75 , 
 
 and in what a public is it 1 Let hot, therefore, 
 my confusion be thought the confusion of 
 guilt; but, as it truly is, of bashful inexpe- 
 rience. First, to remove suspicion from this 
 assembly: let not the scholars look with 
 doubt on each other ; let not the master look 
 with doubt on his scholars. I am he Who 
 have communed .with the son of Neocles ; * I 
 am he who have entered the gardens of pleas- 
 ure ; I am he whom Cleanthes hath pointed 
 at as the apostate from Zeno to Epicurus." A 
 tumult arose among the scholars. Surprise, 
 indignation, and scorn, variously looked from 
 their faces, and murmured from their tongues. 
 
 " Silence ! " cried Zeno, casting his severe 
 glance round the circle. " Young man, pro- 
 ceed." 
 
 This burst of his audience rather invigorated 
 than dashed the youth. He freely threw forth 
 his arm ; his eyes lighted with fire, and the 
 ready words flowed from his lips : "I merit 
 not the hiss of scorn, nor the burst of indigna- 
 tion. Desist, my brothers, till my artless tale 
 be told ; till you have heard, not my apolo- 
 gy, but my justification. Yesterday, at this 
 hour, I left the Portico, heated to fury by the 
 phillippic of Timocrates against Epicurus and 
 his disciples ; indignant at the city that did 
 not drive such a teacher from its walls ;
 
 76 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 against the gods who did not strike him with 
 their thunders. Thus venting my feelings in 
 soliloquy, after a long ramble I seated myself 
 on the banks of Cephisus, and was awakened 
 from a reverie by the approach of a stranger : 
 his aspect had the wisdom of a sage, and the 
 benignity of a divinity. I yielded him the 
 homage of youthful respect and admiration : 
 he condescended to address me. He gave me 
 the precepts of virtue with the gentle and hon- 
 ied tongue of kindness and persuasion. I 
 listened, I admired, and I loved. We did not 
 conclude our walk until sunset : he bade me 
 to his supper. I entered his house, and he told 
 me I beheld Epicurus. Could 1 have drawn 
 back ? Should I have drawn back ? No : my 
 heart answers, no. Your sufferance, my 
 friends ! Do not interrupt me ! Do not call 
 me an apostate ! In the presence of the gods ; 
 in the presence of my master, whom 1 fear as 
 them ; in the presence of my own conscience, 
 which I fear more than both, I swear that I 
 am not so ! I mean not to explain or to justify 
 the philosophy of Epicurus : I know but little 
 of it. I only know I only affirm, that his 
 tongue has given new warmth to my love of 
 virtue, and new vigor to my pursuit of it : 
 I only affirm, that persuasion, simple' un garn- 
 ished persuasionj is in his lips ; benevolence in
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 77 
 
 his aspect ; urbanity in his manners : generos- 
 ity, truth, and candor in his sentiments : I 
 only affirm, that order, innocence, and content, 
 are m his halls and his gardens ; peace and 
 brotherly love with his disciples ; and that, in 
 the midst of these, he is himself the philoso- 
 pher, the parent, and the friend. I see the 
 sneer of contempt upon your lips, my broth- 
 ers ; alas ! even on the unperturbed counte- 
 nance of my master I read displeasure." 
 
 " No, my son," said Zeno, "thou dost not. 
 Continue thy artless tale. If there be error, 
 it lies with the deceiver, not the deceived. 
 And you, my sons and disciples, banish from 
 your faces and your breasts every expression 
 and every thought unworthy of your honest 
 companion, and your upright sect. For re- 
 member, if to abhor falsehood and vice be no- 
 ble, to distrust truth and innocence is mean. 
 My son, proceed." 
 
 " Thanks for your noble confidence, my 
 master : it makes me proud, for I deserve it 
 Yes ! even should I, as I perceive you appre- 
 hend, be deceived, I feel that this open confes- 
 sion of my present perfect conviction is honor- 
 able both to myself and to Zeno. It proves 
 that in his school I have learnt candor, though 
 I have yet to learn discernment. And yet, 
 methinks, however imperfect my youthful dis-
 
 78 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 cernment, it is not now in error. If ever I saw 
 simple, unadorned goodness ; if ever I heard 
 simple, unadorned truth ; it is in it is from 
 Epicurus. Again your sufferance, my friends ! 
 Again your sufferance, my master ! I am 
 not I wish not to be, a disciple of the Gar- 
 dens : virtue may be in them excuse me, 
 virtue is in them, but there is a virtue in the 
 Portico which I shall worship to my latest 
 hour. Here, here I first learned here I first 
 saw to what a glorious height of greatness a 
 mortal might ascend how independent he 
 might be of fortune ; how triumphant over fate ! 
 Young, innocent, and inexperienced, I came to 
 Athens in search of wisdom and virtue. ' At- 
 tend all the schools, and fix with that which, 
 shall give you the noblest aims/ said my 
 father, when he gave me his parting blessing. 
 He being an academician, I had, of course, 
 somewhat imbibed the principles of Plato, and 
 conceived a love for his school : On first hear- 
 ing Crates, therefore, I thought myself satis- 
 fied. Accident made me acquainted with a 
 young Pythagorean : I listened to his simple 
 precepts ; I loved his virtues, and almost fell 
 into his superstitions. From these Theophras- 
 tus awakened me ; and I was nearly fixed as 
 a Peripatetic, when I met the eloquent, enthu- 
 siastic Cleanthes. He brought me to the Por-
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 79 
 
 tico, where I found all the virtues of all the 
 schools united, and crowned with perfection. 
 But when I preferred Zeno, 1 did not despise 
 my former masters. I still sometimes visit the 
 Lycaeum and the Academy, and still the 
 young Pythagorean is my friend. A pure 
 mind should, I think, respect virtue wherever 
 it be found : and if then in the Lycseum and 
 the Academy, why not the Gardens? Zeno, 
 in teaching austerity, does not teach intoler- 
 ance; much less, 1 am sure, does he teach 
 ingratitude : and if I did not feel for the sage 
 of Gargettium both respect and love, I were, 
 the most ungrateful soul in Athens ; and if 
 feeling both, I feared to acknowledge both, I 
 were the meanest. And now, my brothers, 
 ask yourselves what would be your indigna- 
 tion at the youth, who for his vices being driv- 
 en from this Portico, should run to the Lycse- 
 um, and accuse, to the sons of Aristotle, our 
 great Zeno of that sensuality and wickedness 
 which had here wrought his own disgrace, and 
 his own banishment'? Would ye not hate 
 such a wretch ? Would ye not loathe him 1 
 Would ye not curse him ? My brothers ! this 
 day have I learned such a wretch to be Timo- 
 crates. Is he here ? I hope he is : I hope 
 he hears me denounce him for a defamer and 
 an in grate."
 
 80 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 " 'Tis false ! " cried Timocrates, bursting in 
 fury from the crowd. " 'Tis false ! I swear " 
 
 " Beware of perjury ! " said a clear, silver 
 voice, from without the circle. " Give way, 
 Athenians ! 'Tis for me to take up this quar- 
 rel." 
 
 The crowd divided. Every eye turned 
 towards the opening. " Theon shouted with 
 triumph, Timocrates stood blank with dis- 
 may for they recognised the voice and the 
 form of the son of Neocles.
 
 A PEW DATS IN ATHENS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE Sage advanced towards Theon : he laid 
 a hand on either of his shoulders, and kissed 
 his glowing forehead. " Thanks to my gener- 
 ous defender. Your artless tale, my son, if it 
 have not gained the ear of Zeno, hath fixed 
 the heart of Epicurus. Oh ! ever keep this 
 candor and this innocence ! " He turned his 
 benign, face round the circle: "Athenians! 
 I am Epicurus." This name so despised and 
 execrated, did it not raise a tumult in the as- 
 sembly? No; every tongue was chained, 
 every breath suspended, every eye riveted 
 with wonder and admiration. Theon had said 
 the truth : it was the aspect of a sage and a 
 divinity. The face was a serene mirror of a 
 serene mind : its expression spoke like music 
 to the soul. Zeno's was not more calm and 
 unruffled; but here was no severity, no au- 
 thority, no reserve, no unapproachable majes- 
 ty, no repelling superiority: all was benevo- 
 lence, mildness, openness and soothing encour- 
 agement. To see, was to love ; and to hear, 
 was to trust. Timocrates shrunk from the 
 
 4*
 
 82 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 eye of his master: it fell upon him with a 
 fixed and deep gaze, that struck more agony 
 into his guilty soul, than had the flash of a 
 Cleanthes, or the glance of a Zeno. The 
 wretch sunk beneath it : he trembled ; he 
 crouched ; he looked as he would have suppli- 
 cated mercy; but his tongue cleaved to his 
 palate, and shame \vithheld him from quite 
 dropping on his knees. " Go ! I will spare 
 thee. Give way, Athenians ! " The scholars 
 opened a passage : again the Sage waved his 
 hand, and the criminal slunk away. 
 
 "Your pardon, Zeno," said the Gargettian, 
 " I know the youth : he is not worthy to 
 stand in the Portico." 
 
 "I thank you," returned the Master, "and 
 my disciples thank you. The gods forbid that 
 we should harbor vice, or distrust virtue. I 
 see, and I recant my error : henceforth if 1 can- 
 not respect the teacher, I shall respect the 
 man." 
 
 "I respect both," said Epicurus, reclining 
 his head to the stoic. "I have long known 
 and admired Zeno: I have often mixed with 
 the crowd in his Portico, and felt the might of 
 his eloquence. I do not expect a similar return 
 from him, nor do I wish to allure his scholars 
 to my Gardens. I know the severity of their 
 master, and the austerity, may I say, the intol-
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. bd 
 
 erance of his rules. But for one," and he laid 
 his hand upon the head of Theon, " for this 
 one, I would bespeak clemency. Let not that 
 be imputed to him as a crime, which has been 
 the work of accident and of Epicurus : and 
 let me also say for him, as well as for my- 
 self he has lost in the Gardens no virtues, if 
 a few prejudices." 
 
 " Son of Neocles," said Zeno, " I feared you 
 yesterday, but I fear you doubly to-day. Your 
 doctrines are in themselves enticing, but com- 
 ing from such lips, I fear they are irresistible. 
 Methinks I cast a prophet's eye on the map of 
 futurity, and I see the sage of Gargettium 
 standing on the pinnacle of fame, and a- world 
 at his feet. The world is prepared for this : the 
 Macedonian, when he marched our, legions to 
 the conquest of Persia, struck the death-blow 
 at Greece. Persian luxury, and Persian effem- 
 inacy, which before crept, now came with 
 strides upon us. Our youth, dandled on the 
 lap of indulgence, shall turn with sickened ears 
 from the severe moral of Zeno, and greedily 
 suck in the honied philosophy of Epicurus. 
 You will tell me that you too teach virtue. It 
 may be so. 1 do not see it ; bat it may be so. 
 I do not conceive how there can be two vir- 
 tues, nor yet how two roads to the same. 
 This, however, I shall not argue. I will grant
 
 84 A. FEW DAYS IN ATHBJfS. 
 
 that in your system, as elucidated by your 
 practice, there may be something to admire, 
 and much to love ; but when your practice 
 shall be dead, and your system alone shall sur- 
 vive, where then shall be th security of its in- 
 nocen$e; where the antidote of its poison? 
 Think not that men shall take the good and 
 not the evil ; soon they shall take the evil and 
 leave the good. They shall do more ; they 
 shall pervert the very nature of the good, and 
 make of the whole, evil unmixed. Soon, in 
 the shelter of your bowers, all that is vicious 
 shall find a refuge. Effeminacy shall steal in 
 under the name of ease ; sensuality and de- 
 bauchery in the place of innocence and refine- 
 ment; the pleasures of the body instead of 
 those of the mind. Whatever may be your 
 virtues, they are but the virtues of tempera- 
 ment, not of discipline ; and such of your fol- 
 lowers as shall be like you in temperament 
 may be like you in practice : but let them have 
 boiling; passions and urgent appetites, and your 
 doctrines shall set no fence against the torrent ; 
 shall ring no alarm to the offender. Tell us 
 not that that is right which admits of evil con- 
 struction that that is virtue which leaves an 
 open gate to vice. 1 said that with a proph- 
 et's eye I saw your future fame; but such 
 fame as I foresee can but ill satisfy the ambi-
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 tion of a sage. Your Gardens shall be crowd- 
 ed, but they shall be disgraced ; your name 
 shall be in every mouth, but every mouth 
 shall be unworthy that speaks it; nations shall 
 have you in honor, but ere it is so they shall be 
 in ruin : our degenerated country shall worship 
 you, and expire at your feet. Zeno, meantime, 
 may be neglected, but he shall never be slan- 
 dered ; the Portico may be forsaken, but shall 
 never be disgraced ; its doctrines may be dis- 
 carded, but shall never be misconstrued. I 
 am not deceived by my present popularity. 
 No school now in such repute as mine ; but 
 I -know this will not last. The iron and the 
 golden ages are run ; youth and manhood are 
 departed ; and the weakness of old age steals 
 upon the world. But, Oh ! son of Neocles ! in 
 this gloomy prospect a proud comfort is mine : 
 I have raised the last bulwark to the fainting 
 virtue of man, and the departing glory of na- 
 tions : I have done more : when the virtue 
 and glory of nations shall be dead, and when 
 in their depraved generations some solitary 
 souls, born for better things, shall see and 
 mourn the vices around them, here in the 
 abandoned Portico shall they find a refuge ; 
 here, shutting their eyes upon the world, they 
 shall learn to be a world to themselves ; 
 here, steeled in fortitude, shall they look down 
 in high, unruffled majesty on the slaves and
 
 86 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 the tyrants of earth. Epicurus ! when thou 
 canst say this of the Gardens, then, and not 
 till then, call thyself a sage and a man of vir- 
 tue." He ceased ; but his full tones seemed 
 yet to sound in the ears of his listening audi- 
 tors. There was a long pause, when the Gar- 
 gettian in notes, like the breathing flutes of Ar- 
 cadia, began his reply. 
 
 " Zeno, in his present speech, has rested 
 much of the truth of his system on its expedi- 
 ency : I therefore shall do the same by mine. 
 The door of my Gardens is ever open, and my 
 books are in the hands of the public ; to enter 
 therefore, here, into the detail or the expound- 
 ing of the principles of my philosophy were 
 equally out of place and out of season. ' Tell 
 us not that that is right which admits of evil 
 construction ; that that is virtue which leaves 
 an open gate to vice.' This is the thrust 
 which Zeno now makes at Epicurus ; and did 
 it hit, I grant it were a mortal one. From the 
 flavor, we pronounce of the fruit ; from the 
 beauty and the fragrance, of the flower ; and 
 in a system of morals, or of philosophy, or of 
 whatever else, what tends to produce good we 
 pronounce to be good, what to produce evil, 
 we pronounce to be evil. I might indeed sup- 
 port the argument, that our opinion with re- 
 gard to the first principles of morals has
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 87 
 
 nought to do with our practice ; that wheth- 
 er I stand my virtue upon prudence, or propri- 
 ety, or justice, or benevolence, or self-love, that 
 my virtue is still one and the same ; that the 
 dispute is not about the end, but the origin ; 
 that of all the thousands who have yielded 
 homage to virtue, hardly one has thought of 
 inspecting the pedestal she stands upon ; that 
 as the mariner is guided by the tides, though 
 ignorant of their causes, so does a man obey 
 the rules of virtue though ignorant of the prin- 
 ciples on which those rules are founded ; and 
 that the knowledge of those principles would 
 affect the conduct of the man, no more than 
 acquaintance with the causes of the tides 
 would affect the conduct of the mariner. But 
 this I shall not argue ; in doing so I might 
 seem but to fight you flying. I shall meet 
 your objection in the face. And I say that 
 allowing the most powerful effects to spring 
 from the first grounds of a moral system ; 
 the worst or the best, that mine, if the best 
 is to be so judged by the good it does and the 
 evil it prevents, must be ranked among the 
 best. If, as you say, and I partly believe, the 
 iron and the golden ages are past, the youth 
 and the manhood of the world, and that the 
 weakness of old age is creeping on 4is, then, 
 as you also say, our youth, dandled on the lap
 
 88 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 -of indulgence, shall turn with sickened ears 
 from the severe moral of Zeno ; and then / 
 say, that in the Gardens, and in the Gardens 
 only, shall they find a food, innocent, yet adapt- 
 ed to their sickly palates ; an armor, not of 
 iron fortitude, but of silken persuasion, that 
 shall resist the progress of their degeneracy, or 
 throw a beauty even over their ruin. But, 
 perhaps, though Zeno should allow this last 
 effect of my philosophy to be probable, he will 
 not approve it : his severe eye looks with 
 scorn, not pity, on the follies and vices of the 
 world. He would annihilate them, change 
 them to their opposite virtues, or he would 
 leave them to their full and natural sweep. 
 ' Be perfect, or be as you are. 1 allow of no 
 degrees of virtue, so care not for the degrees of 
 vice. Your ruin, if it must be, let it be in all 
 its horrors, in all its vileness : let it attract no 
 pity, no sympathy: let it be seen in all its 
 naked deformity, and excite the full measure 
 of its merited abhorrence and disgust.' Thus 
 says the sublime Zeno, who sees only man as 
 he should be. TJjus says the mild Epicurus, 
 who sees man as he is : With all his weak- 
 nesses, all his errors, all his sins, still owning 
 fellowship with him, still rejoicing in his wel- 
 fare and sighing over his misfortunes : I call 
 from my Gardens to the thoughtless, the head-
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 89 
 
 strong, and the idle. ' Where do ye wander, 
 and what do ye seek ? Is it pleasure 1 behold 
 it here. Is it ease ? enter and repose.' Thus 
 do I court them from the table of drunkenness 
 and the bed of licentiousness : I gently awaken 
 their sleeping faculties, and draw the veil from 
 their understandings. ' My sons ! do you seek 
 pleasure ? I seek her also. Let us make the 
 search together. You have tried wine, you 
 have tried love ; you have sought amusement 
 in revelling, and forgetfulness in indolence. 
 You tell me you are disappointed : that your 
 passions grew, even while you gratified them; 
 your weariness increased even while you slept. 
 Let us try again. Let us quiet our passions, 
 not by gratifying, but subduing them ; let us 
 conquer our weariness, not by rest, but by ex- 
 ertion.' Thus do 1 win their ears and their 
 confidence. Step by step I lead them on. I 
 lay open the mysteries of science ; I expose the 
 beauties of art ; I call the graces and the muses 
 to my aid; the song, the lyre, and the dance. 
 Temperance presides at the repast ; innocence, 
 at the festival ; disgust is changed to satisfac- 
 tion ; listlessness, to curiosity ; brutality, to el- 
 egance; lust gives place to love; Bacchanalian 
 hilarity to friendship. Tell me not, Zeno, that 
 the teacher is vicious who washes depravity 
 from the youthful heart ; who lays the storm
 
 90 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 of its passions, and turns all its sensibilities to 
 good. I grant that I do not look to make men 
 happy. To teach them that in the discharge 
 of their duties as sons, as husbands, as fathers, 
 as citizens, lies their pleasure and their inter- 
 est ; and when the sublime motives of Zeno 
 shall cease to affect an enervated generation, 
 the gentle persuasions of Epicurus shall still be 
 heard and obeyed. But you warn me that I 
 shall be slandered, my doctrines misinterpret- 
 ed, and my school and my name disgraced. I 
 doubt it not. What teacher is safe from ma- 
 levolence, what system from misconstruction 7 
 And does Zeno really think himself and his 
 doctrines secure ? He knows not, then, man's 
 ignorance and man's folly. Some few genera- 
 tions, when the amiable virtues of Epicurus, 
 and the sublime excellence of Zeno shall live 
 no longer in remembrance or tradition, the 
 fierce or ambitious bigots of some new sect 
 may alike calumniate both ; proclaim the one 
 for a libertine, and the other for a hypocrite. 
 But I will allow that I am more open to de- 
 traction than Zeno: that while your school 
 shall be abandoned, mine shall more probably 
 be disgraced. But it will be the same cause that 
 produces the two effects. It will be equally 
 the degeneracy of man that shall cause the 
 discarding of your doctrines, and the perver-
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 91 
 
 sion of mine. Why then should the prospect 
 of the future disturb Epicurus more than Ze- 
 no ? The fault will not lie with me any more 
 than you ; but with the vices of my followers, 
 and the ignorance of my judges. I follow my 
 course, guided by what I believe to be wis- 
 dom; with the good of man at my heart, 
 adapting my advice to his situation, his dispo- 
 sition, and his capacities. My efforts may be 
 unsuccessful, my intentions may be calumniat- 
 ed ; but as I know these to be benevolent, so 
 I shall continue these, unterrified and unruffled 
 by reproaches, unchilled by occasional ingrati- 
 tude and frequent disappointment." He ceas- 
 ed, and again laying his hand on the shoulder 
 of Theon, led him to his Master. " I ask not 
 Zeno to admire me as a teacher, but let him 
 not blame this scholar for loving me as a 
 man." 
 
 "I shall not blame him," said the Stoic, 
 " but I wish that I may not soon distrust him. 
 I wish he may not soon forget Zeno, and for- 
 sake the Portico." 
 
 The shades of evening now fell on the city, 
 and the assembly divided.
 
 92 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE sun was in its fervor, when Theon 
 issued from one of the public baths. He was 
 not disposed for rest, yet the heat of the streets 
 was insufferable. " I will seek the Gardens," 
 he thought, " and loiter in their cool shades 
 until the Master join me." Reaching the 
 house of the Gargettian, and the entrance to 
 the Gardens being-shorter through it than by 
 the public gate, he entered, and sought the pas- 
 sage he had before traversed. He however 
 took a wrong one, and, after wandering for 
 some time, opened a door, and found himself 
 in a library. Epicurus was sitting in deep 
 study, with his tablets before him; his pen in 
 one hand, his forehead supported on the other. 
 Metrodorus, on the opposite side of the room, 
 was engaged in transcribing. 
 
 Theon stopped, and, making a short apolo- 
 gy, hastily retired. "Stay! " cried the Mas- 
 ter. Theon again entered, but did not ad- 
 vance much within the threshhold. 
 
 " When I bade you stay, I did not mean to 
 fix you as doorkeeper. Come in, and shut the
 
 A FEW DATS IN ATHENS. 93 
 
 door behind you." Theon joyfully obeyed; 
 and hurried to seize the extended hand of the 
 sage. " Since you have intruded on the sanc- 
 tuary, I shall not drive you out." He motion- 
 ed the youth to a place on his couch. " And 
 now, what pretty things am I to say to you for 
 your yesterday's defence of the wicked Gar- 
 gettian ? You should have come home with 
 me last night, when we were both hot from the 
 combat, and then I could have made you an 
 eloquent compliment in full assembly at the 
 Symposium, and you would as eloquently 
 have disclaimed it with one of your modest 
 blushes." 
 
 " Then, truly, if the Master had such an in- 
 tention, I am very glad I did not follow him. 
 But I passed the evening at my own lodgings, 
 with my friend Cleanthes." 
 
 " Trying to talk him into good humor and 
 charity, was it 1 " 
 
 " Something so." 
 
 " And you succeeded 1 " 
 
 " Why, I don't know ; he did not leave me 
 in worse humor than he came." 
 
 "Nay, then it must have been in better. 
 Explanation always approaches or widens the 
 differences between friends." 
 
 "Yes, "but we also entered into argument." 
 
 " Dangerous ground that, to be sure. And
 
 94 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 your fight, of course, ended in a drawn bat- 
 tle ? " 
 
 " You pay me more than a merited compli- 
 ment, in concluding that to be a thing of 
 course." 
 
 " Nay, your pardon ! I pay you any thing 
 but a compliment. It is not that I conclude 
 your rhetoric and your logic equal, but your 
 obstinacy and your vanity." 
 
 " Do you know, I don't think myself either 
 obstinate or vain," said Theon, smiling. 
 
 " Had I supposed you did, I might not have 
 seen occasion to give you the information." 
 
 " But on what grounds do you think me 
 obstinate and vain ? " 
 
 " Your years ; your years. And do yon 
 think there is a man under twenty that is not 
 both?" 
 
 " Why, I should think an old man, at least, 
 more obstinate than a young one." 
 
 "I grant you when he is obstinate, which is 
 pretty often, but not quite always ; and when 
 he is vain, the same. But whilst many old 
 men have vanity and obstinacy in the superla- 
 tive degree, all young men have those quali- 
 ties in the positive. I believe your share to be 
 tolerably moderate, but do not suppose that 
 you have no share at all. Well, and now tell 
 me, was it not a drawn battle ? "
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 95 
 
 "I confess it was. At least, we neither of 
 us convinced the other." 
 
 " My son, it would have added one more to 
 the seven wonders- if you had. I incline to 
 doubt, if two men, in the course of an olym- 
 piad, enter on an argument from the honest 
 and single desire of coming at the truth, or if, 
 in the course of a century, one man comes 
 from an argument convinced by his oppo- 
 nent." 
 
 "Well, then, if you will allow me no credit 
 for not being convinced, you may at least for 
 my not being silenced, I, so young an arguer, 
 and Clean thes so practised a one ! " 
 
 " You broke the ice beforehand yesterday in 
 the Portico," said the Philosopher, tapping his 
 shoulder. "After that generous instance of 
 confidence, I shall not marvel if you now find 
 a tongue upon all proper occasions. And trust 
 me, the breaking of the ice is a very impor- 
 tant matter. Many an orator has made but 
 one spring to the land, and his legs, after he 
 had taken courage to make the first stroke. 
 Clean thes himself found this. You know his 
 history ? He first appeared in Athens as a 
 wrestler, a stranger to philosophy and learning 
 of all kinds. In our streets, however, the 
 buzz of it could not fail to reach him. He ran 
 full speed into the school of Crates. His curi-
 
 96 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 osity, joined to his complete ignorance, gave 
 him so singular an appearance, and produced 
 from him so many simple questions, and blun- 
 dering replies, that he received from his fellow 
 disciples the nickname of the Ass. But the Ass 
 persevered, and soon after, entering the Portico 
 he applied with such intense diligence to the 
 unravelling the mysteries of Zeno's philoso- 
 phy, that he speedily secured the esteem of his 
 Master, and the respect of his companions. 
 But his timidity was for some time extreme, 
 and probably nothing but a sudden excitement 
 could have enabled him to break through it. 
 This, however, accidentally occurred, and he 
 is now the ready and powerful orator that you 
 know him." 
 
 " I have often heard," said Theon, " and real- 
 ly not without some scepticism, the change 
 that a few years have wrought in Clean- 
 thes; a brawny wrestler ! who could believe 
 it? and a dull, ignorant Barbarian ! " 
 
 " The world always adds marvel to the 
 marvellous. A brawny wrestler he never was ; 
 though certainly something stouter and squar- 
 er in person than he is now ; and though igno- 
 rant, he was not dull. Intense application, 
 and some say, the fasting of poverty, as well 
 as temperance, rapidly reduced his body, and 
 spiritualized his mind."
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 97 
 
 " The fasting of poverty ! " cried Theon, 
 " do you believe this ?'" 
 
 "I fear it is possible," returned the Master. 
 "At least it is asserted that he possessed but 
 four drachms when he left the school of wres- 
 tling for that of philosophy ; and it does not 
 well appear that he now follows any other 
 trade than that of a scholar ; one which cer- 
 tainly brings very little nourishment to the 
 body, whatever it might do to the mind." 
 
 " But his Master; do you think Zeno would 
 suffer him to want the necessaries of life 1 " 
 
 " The actual necessaries, somehow or other, 
 he certainly has ; but I can believe he will 
 make very few serve, and procure those few 
 with some difficulty, rather than be indebted 
 even to his Master." 
 
 " Or his friend ! " said Theon. 
 
 ,"Nay, remember, you are not a friend of 
 very long standing, and something his junior 
 in years." 
 
 " But should that prevent him from giving 
 me his confidence on such an occasion?" 
 
 " Perhaps not, but allow something to the 
 Stoic pride." 
 
 " I can allow nothing to it here." 
 
 <( No, because it touches your own. 'Thus 
 do I tread on the pride of Plato J said Dioge-
 
 98 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 nes, setting his foot on the robe of the Aca- 
 demic. ' Yes, with the greater pride of Dio- 
 genes,' returned Plato. But I have made you 
 grave, which was not my intention. Metrodo- 
 rus, how go you on 7 " 
 
 " Writing the last word. There ! And 
 now," rising and advancing towards Theon, 
 "let me embrace the youth who so nobly took 
 up the vindication of my insulted Master. 
 Perhaps you may not know how peculiarly I 
 am indebted to you. Timocrates is the broth- 
 er of Metrodorus." 
 k "How!" 
 , "1 blush to own it." 
 
 " You need not blush, my loved son ; you 
 have done more than a brother's duty towards 
 him, and more than a disciple's duty towards 
 me. I suppose," turning to Theon, " as you 
 are a Stoic, you have not read the able treati- 
 ses of Metrodorus in support of my doctrines, 
 and defence of my character. In the last, in- 
 deed, he has done more than I wished." 
 
 " I own I have not, but I will read them." 
 
 " What ! in the face of Zeno 1 " 
 
 " Aye, and of the whole Portico." 
 
 "We need not doubt the young Corinthian's 
 courage," said Metrodorus, " after his noble 
 confidence yesterday." 
 
 " I see the Master has not been silent," re-
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 99 
 
 turned Theon, "and that he has given me 
 more praise than is my due." 
 
 " Metrodorus can tell you that is not my 
 custom," said the Gargettian. " By Pollux ! 
 if you continue your visits to the Garden, you 
 must look to be handled very roughly. I aim 
 the blow at every fault I see ; and I have a 
 very acute pair of eyes. I find out the most 
 secret sins, turn the souls of my scholars in- 
 side out ; so be warned in time ! " 
 
 "I do not fear you," returned the Corinth- 
 ian. 
 
 "Not fear me, you rogue ? " 
 
 " No, I love you too well. But," continued 
 Theon, "let me now make my acknowedg- 
 ments to the Master for his coming forward so 
 seasonably yesterday, and giving me the victo- 
 ry. How you astonished me ! I almost took 
 you a second time for a divinity." 
 
 "I will tell you how it happened," returned 
 Epicurus: "Chancing to be called into the 
 street yesterday, just after you left the house, 
 I saw your meeting with Cleanthes ; and 
 guessing from his first address, that you would 
 have to stand a siege, I followed you to the 
 Portico, and took my place, unnoticed, among 
 the crowd, ready, if occasion should require, to 
 offer my succor." 
 
 " And you heard then all that passed ? "
 
 100 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 "Idid." 
 
 " I beg your pardon for the digression," said 
 Theon ; "but I think you have more forbear- 
 ance and more candor than any man I ever 
 heard of." 
 
 "If it be so, these useful qualities have not 
 been attained without much study and disci- 
 pline ; for Zeno is mistaken in thinking all my 
 virtues the children of temperament. I very 
 early perceived candor to be the quality the 
 most indispensable in the composition of a phi- 
 losopher, and therefore very early set my 
 whole efforts to the attaining of it. And when 
 once I fairly engaged in the work, I did not 
 find it either long or difficult I had naturally 
 a mild temper, and a sensitive heart, and these 
 gifts were here of inconceivable use to me. 
 Feeling kindly towards my fellow-creatures, I 
 could the easier learn to pity rather than hate 
 their faults ; to smile, rather than frown at 
 their follies. This was a great step gained, 
 but the next was more difficult to be slow 
 in pronouncing what is a fault, and what is a 
 folly. Our superstition would haunt with the 
 furies the man who should take his sister to 
 wife, while the customs of Egypt would com- 
 mend him. How has the astronomer been 
 laughed at, who made the earth revolve round 
 the stationary sun ; and yet who can say but
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS*. 101 
 
 the age may come, when this shall be estab* 
 lished as a truth? Prejudices, when once seen 
 as prejudices, are easily yielded. The diffi- 
 culty is to come at the knowledge of them. A 
 thousand lectures had I read to myself, ere I 
 could calmly say, upon all occasions, It does 
 not follow that the thing is, because I think it 
 is ; and till I could say this, I never presumed 
 to call myself a philosopher. When I had 
 schooled myself into candor, I found I was pos- 
 sessed of forbearance ; for, indeed, it is hardly 
 possible to possess the one without the other." 
 " I cannot understand," said Theon, " how, 
 with your mildness, your candor, and your 
 good humor, you have so many enemies." 
 "Am I not the founder of a new sect 1 ? " ^ 
 " Yes, but so have been many others." 
 " And you think I have more enemies than 
 any ? If it be so, perhaps in those peaceable 
 qualities you have enumerated, you may seek 
 the cause. Remember the Cynics and Stoics, 
 (and I believe most of my enemies are either 
 among them, or of their making,) do you think 
 any of those three unpresuming virtues would 
 secure their approbation ? They do not love 
 to see a man take the place of a philosopher, 
 without the airs of one, and, as you may per- 
 ceive, 1 want these most entirely. Then you 
 must remember also my popularity ; for o
 
 102 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 course my mildness, candor, and good humor, 
 along with other agreeable virtues which shall 
 be nameless, help to secure me a thousand 
 friends ; and he who has many friends, must 
 have many enemies, for you know he must be 
 the mark of envy, jealousy, and spleen." 
 
 " I cannot endure to think that it should be 
 so," said Theon. 
 
 "Much less can. I," said Metrodorus. 
 
 "My sons, never pity the man who can 
 count more than a friend for every enemy, and 
 I do believe that I can do this ! Yes, my 
 young Stoic, Zeno may have fewer enemies, 
 and as many disciples, but I doubt if he have 
 so many devoted children as Epicurus." 
 
 "I know he has not," cried Metrodorus, 
 curling his lip in proud scorn. 
 
 "You need not look so fierce upon your 
 knowledge," said the Master, smiling. 
 
 "You are too mild, too candid," returned 
 the scholar, " and that is your only fault." 
 
 " Then I am a most faultless person, and I 
 only wish I could return the compliment to 
 Metrodorus, but his lip curls too much, and his 
 cheeks are too apt to kindle." 
 
 " I know it, I know it," said the scholar. 
 
 " Then why not mend it? " 
 
 " Because I am not at all sure, but that it is 
 better unmended. If you would but turn more
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 103 
 
 fiercely upon your enemies, or let me do so for 
 you, they would respect you more, for they 
 would fear you more." 
 
 " But as I am not a god, nor a king, nor a 
 soldier, I have no claim to fear ; and as I am a 
 philosopher, I have no wish for it. Then, as 
 to respect, do you- really think yourself more 
 worthy of it than your Master ? " 
 
 " Nay," said Metrodorus, blushing, " that is 
 too severe a rub." 
 
 "Grant that it was merited. No, no, my 
 son, we will convince all we can, we will 
 silence as few as possible, and we will terrify 
 none." 
 
 "Remember the exit of Timocrates," said 
 Theon, " was not that made in terror 7" 
 
 " Yes ; but it was the work of his conscience, 
 not of my eyes ; if the first had been silent, I 
 imagine he would have stood the last very 
 well." 
 
 " Do not name the wretch," cried Metrodo- 
 rus indignantly. " Oh ! my young Corinthian, 
 did you know all the patience and forbearance 
 that his Master had shown towards him, all 
 the pains he took with him, the gentleness with 
 which he admonished him, the seriousness 
 with which he warned him, the thousand 
 times that he forgave him ; and then at last, 
 when he dared to insult his Master's adopted
 
 104 
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 child, the lovely Hedeia, and the indignant dis- 
 ciples thrust him from the Gardens, he goes to 
 our enemies, the enemies of his Master, and 
 feeds their malice with infernal lies. Curses 
 of the furies on the wretch ! " 
 
 "Fie! how darest thou ? " said Epicurus, 
 thrusting his scholar indignantly from him. 
 " Thy anger is unworthy of a man, how much 
 then of a brother ! Go, and recollect thyself, 
 my son ! " softening his voice, as he saw a 
 tear in Metrodorus's eye. "The Corinthian 
 will accompany you to the Gardens, I will join 
 you when I have concluded this treatise." 
 Metrodorus took the arm of Theon, and they 
 left the apartment.
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 105 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 "Do not," said Metrodorus to Theon, 
 "take me as the best sample of the pupils of 
 Epicurus. We are not all so hot brained and 
 hot tongued." 
 
 " Nay! " returned his companion, " I am too 
 young in philosophy to blame your warmth. 
 In your place, I should have been as hot my- 
 self." 
 
 "I am glad to hear it. I like you the better 
 for the sentiment. But the sun scorches dread- 
 fully, let us seek shelter." 
 
 They turned into a thicket, and proceeding 
 some way, caught on the still air the notes of a 
 flute. They advanced and came to a beauti- 
 ful bank of verdure, bordered by the river, and 
 shadowed by a group of thick and wide 
 spreading oaks. "It is Leontium," said Me- 
 trodorus. " No other in Attica can breathe the 
 flute so sweetly." They turned one of the 
 trunks, and found her lying on the turf; her 
 shoulder leaning against a tree, and her figure 
 raised on one elbow. Beside her was seated 
 the black eyed girl, whom Theon had before 
 
 5*
 
 106 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 seen ; her taper fingers twining into a wreath 
 the scented flowers, which were lightly thrown 
 into her lap by the gay Sofron, who stood at 
 some distance among the shrubs." 
 
 " Enough ! enough ! " said the gentle voice 
 of the girl, as the youth shook down in show- 
 ers the leaves and nectareous odors of the over- 
 ripe blossoms. "Enough! enough! stay thy 
 hand, thou heedless ravager ! " 
 
 " Thank thee for thy words, although they 
 chide me," said the boy, letting go the bough 
 which he had just seized, with a bound, light 
 as that of the shrub when it sprung upward 
 from his hand. " Thou hast but one feeling in 
 thy soul, Boidion ; and thy nature belies the 
 sunny clime which saw its birth. Friendship 
 is all to thee, and that friendship is but for 
 one." 
 
 "In truth, thou repayest his cares but 
 coldly," said Leontium, taking the pipe from 
 her mouth, and smiling on the dark haired 
 maiden. 
 
 " But I repay not thine coldly," said Boid- 
 ion, kissing the hand of her friend. 
 
 "I am well punished for the neglect of my 
 morning's lecture," said Sofron impatiently, as 
 he snatched his book from the ground, and 
 turned away. 
 
 " Part not in anger, brother ! " exclaime
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 107 
 
 Boidion. But the youth had vanished, and in 
 his place, Metrodorus and Theon stood before 
 her. 
 
 The startled girl was about to rise, when 
 Leontium laying her hand on her arm, " Rest 
 thee, thou timid fawn," and the maiden re- 
 sumed her seat. 
 
 " I rejoice," said Theon, as he placed him- 
 self with Metrodorus by the side of Leontium, 
 and took up the pipe which had fallen from 
 her hand, " I rejoice to find this little instru- 
 ment restored to Athens." 
 
 " Say not restored to Athens," returned Le- 
 ontium, " only admitted into the Garden. I 
 doubt our vain youth still remember the curse 
 of Alcibiades, and looking in their mirror, vow 
 that none but fools would play on it." 
 
 " This recalls to me," said Theon, " that I 
 have heard, among the various reports con- 
 cerning the Garden current in the mouths of 
 the Athenians, very contradictory ones as to 
 the place allowed in it to the sciences and lib- 
 eral arts, and to music in particular." 
 
 " I suppose," said Metrodorus, " that you 
 heard our whole employment was eating, 
 drinking, and rioting in all licentiousness." 
 1 " True I did hear so ; and I fear I must con- 
 fess, half believed it. But I also heard your 
 licentiousness described in various ways;
 
 108 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 sometimes as grossly sensual, enlivened by no 
 elegancies of art; veiled, adorned, if I may 
 use the expression, by no refinement. In 
 short, that Epicurus laughed as well at the fine 
 arts as the grave sciences. From others again, 
 I learned that music, dancing, poetry, and 
 painting were pressed into the service of his 
 philosophy; that Leontium strung the lyre, 
 Metrodorus the harp, Hedeia moved in the 
 dance, Boidion raised the song to Venus; that 
 his halls were covered with voluptuous pic- 
 tures, the walks of his gardens lined with in- 
 decent statues." 
 
 "And you may now perceive the truth," re- 
 plied Metrodorus, " with your own eyes and 
 ears." 
 
 "But," said Leontium, " the young Corin- 
 thian may be curious to know the sentiments 
 of our Master, and his advice regarding the 
 pursuit of the sciences and the liberal arts. I 
 can readily perceive," addressing herself to 
 Theon, " the origin of the two contradictory 
 reports you have just mentioned. The first 
 you would hear from the followers of Aristip- 
 pus, who, though not acknowledging the name, 
 follow the tenets of his philosophy, and have 
 long been very numerous in our degenerate 
 city. These, because Epicurus recommends 
 but a moderate culture of those arts, which by
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 109 
 
 them are too often made the elegant incentives 
 to licentious pleasure, accuse him of neglect- 
 ing them altogether. The Cynics, and other 
 austere sects, who condemn all that ministers 
 to the luxury, ease, or recreation of man, exag- 
 gerate his moderate use of these arts into a 
 vicious encouragement of voluptuousness and 
 effeminacy. You will perceive, therefore, that 
 between the two reports lies the truth. Every 
 innocent recreation is permitted in the Garden. 
 It is not poetry, but licentious poetry, that Ep- 
 icurus condemns; not music, but voluptuous 
 music ; not painting, but licentious pictures ; 
 not dancing, but loose gestures. Yet thus he 
 displeases alike the profligate and the austere, 
 for these he is too moderate, and for those too 
 severe. With regard to the sciences, if it be 
 said, that they are neglected among us, I do 
 not say that our Master, though himself versed 
 in them, as in all other branches of knowledge, 
 greatly recommends them to our study. But 
 that they are not unknown, let Polyoenus be 
 evidence. He, one of the most amiable men 
 of our school, and one most highly favored by 
 our Master, you must have heard mentioned 
 throughout Greece as a profound geometri- 
 cian." 
 . "Yes," replied Theon ; "but I have also
 
 110 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 heard, that since entering the Garden, he has 
 ceased to respect his science." 
 
 "I am not aware of that," said Leontium, 
 " though I believe he no longer devotes to it 
 all his time, arid all his faculties. Epicurus 
 called him from his diagrams, to open to him 
 the secrets of physics, and the beauties of eth- 
 ics ; to show him the springs of human action, 
 and lead him to the study of the human mind. 
 He taught him that any single study, however 
 useful and noble in itself, was yet unworthy 
 the entire employ of a curious and powerful 
 intellect : that the man who pursued one line 
 of knowledge, to the exclusion of others, 
 though he should follow it up to its very head, 
 would never be either learned or wise : that he 
 who pursues knowledge, should think no 
 branch of it unworthy attention ; least of all, 
 should he confine it to those which are uncon- 
 nected with the business, and add nothing to 
 the pleasures of life : that further not our ac- 
 quaintance with ourselves, nor our fellows ; 
 that tend not to enlarge the sphere of our affec- 
 tions, to multiply our ideas and sensations, nor 
 extend the scope of our inquiries. On this 
 ground, he blamed the devotion of PolyoBnus 
 to a science that leads to other truths than 
 those of virtue, to other study than that of 
 man."
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. Ill 
 
 "I am obliged to you for the explanation," 
 said Theon; "not because I could any longer 
 have given credit to the absurd reports of your 
 Master's enemies ; but because whatever opens 
 to me the character and opinions of such a 
 man, interests and improves me." 
 
 " You will find this," said Metrodorus, " the 
 more you consider them. The life of Epicurus 
 is a lesson of wisdom. It is by example, even 
 more than precept, that he guides his disciples. 
 Without issuing commands, he rules despoti- 
 cally. His wishes are divined, and obeyed as 
 laws ; his opinions are repeated as oracles ; his 
 doctrines adopted as demonstrated truths. All 
 is unanimity in the Garden. We are a family 
 of brothers, of which Epicurus is the father. 
 And I say not this in the praise of the scholars, 
 but the Master. Many of us have had bad 
 habits, many of us evil propensities, many of 
 us violent passions. That our habits are cor- 
 rected, our propensities changed, our passions 
 restrained, lies all with Epicurus. What I 
 myself owe him, none but myself know. The 
 giddy follower of licentious pleasure, the head- 
 strong victim of my passions, he has made me 
 taste of the sweets of innocence, and brought 
 me into the calm of philosophy. It is thus 
 thus, by rendering us happy, that he lays us at 
 his feet, thus that he gains, and holds the
 
 112 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 empire of our minds, thus that by proving 
 himself our friend, he secures our respect, our 
 submission, and our love. He cannot but 
 know his power, yet he exerts it in no other 
 way, than to mend our lives, or to keep them 
 innocent. In argument, as you may have ob- 
 served, he always seeks to convince rather 
 than sway. He is as free from arrogance as 
 from duplicity; he would neither force an 
 opinion on the mind, nor conceal from it a 
 truth. Ask his advice, and it is ever ready, 
 his opinion, and he gives it clearly. Free from 
 prejudice himself, he is tender to that of 
 others ; yet no fear of censure, or desire of pop- 
 ularity, ever leads him to humor it, either in 
 his lessons, or his writings. Candor, as you 
 have already remarked, is the prominent fea- 
 ture of his mind ; it is the crown of his perfect 
 character. 1 say this, my young Corinthian, 
 who know him. His soul, indeed, is open to 
 all ; but I have approached very near it, and 
 considered its inmost recesses. Yes, I am 
 proud to say it 1 am one of those he has 
 drawn most closely into his intimacy. With 
 all my imperfections and errors, he has adopted 
 me as a son ; and, inferior as I am in years, 
 wisdom, and virtue, he deigns to call me his 
 friend." 
 
 Tears here filled the eyes of the scholar ;
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 113 
 
 he seemed about to resume, when a slight 
 sound made the party turn their heads, and 
 they saw the Master at their side. " Do not 
 rise, my children, I will seat myself among 
 you." Theon perceived he had heard the 
 closing sentence of Metrodorus, for the water 
 glistened in his eyes as he fixed them tenderly 
 upon him. " Thanks, my son, for this tribute 
 of thy gratitude ; I have heard thy eulogy, and 
 I accept it joyfully. Let all men," and he 
 turned his eye upon Theort, " be above flatte- 
 ry ; but let not a sage be above praise. He 
 that is so is either arrogant or insincere. For 
 myself, 1 own that the commendations of my 
 friends fill x me with triumph, as the assurance 
 of their affection does with satisfaction. The 
 approbation of our familiars, who are with us 
 in our secret hours, hear our private converse, 
 know the habits of our lives, and the bent of 
 our dispositions, is, or should be to us, fat 
 more pleasing and triumphant than the shouts 
 of a multitude, or the worship of the world." 
 
 There was a pause of some minutes, when 
 Leontium took up the word. "I have been 
 explaining, though very shortly and imper- 
 fectly, your views concerning the studies most 
 proper to be pursued by men. I believe the 
 Corinthian has some curiosity on this point." 
 
 Theon assented.
 
 114 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 "Knowledge," said the Master, "is the best 
 riches that man can possess. Without it, he is 
 a brute ; with it, he is a god. But like happi- 
 ness, he often pursues it without rinding it ; or, 
 at best, obtains of it but an imperfect glimpse. 
 It is not that the road to it is either dark or dif- 
 ficult, but that he takes a wrong one ; or if he 
 enters on the right, he does so unprepared for 
 the journey. Now he thinks knowledge one 
 Avith erudition, and shutting himself up in his 
 closet, he cons all the lore of antiquity; he 
 fathoms the sciences, heaps up in his memory 
 all the sayings of the dead, and reckoning the 
 value of his acquisitions by the measure of the 
 time and labor he hath expended on them, he 
 is satisfied he hath reached his end, and from 
 his retirement, looking down upon his more 
 ignorant, because less learned, brethren, he 
 calls them children and barbarians. But, 
 alas ! learning is not wisdom, nor will books 
 give understanding. Again, he takes a more 
 inviting road : he rushes into the crowd ; he 
 rolls down the stream of pleasure ; he courts 
 the breath of popularity ; he unravels or 
 weaves the riddles of intrigue ; he humors the 
 passions of his fellows, and rises upon them to 
 name and power. Then, laughing at the cre- 
 dulity, ignorance, and vice, he hath set his 
 throne upon, he says, that to know the world is
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 115 
 
 the only knowledge, and to see to dupe it, is to 
 be wise. Yet knowledge of the world is not 
 knowledge of man, nor to triumph in the pas- 
 sions of others, is not to triumph over our own. 
 No, my sons, that only is real, is sterling 
 knowledge, which goes to make us better and 
 happier men, and which fits us to assist the 
 virtue and happiness of others. All learning 
 is useful, all the sciences are curious, all the 
 arts are beautiful ; but more useful, more curi- 
 ous, and more beautiful, is the perfect know- 
 ledge and perfect government of ourselves. 
 Though a man should read the heavens, un- 
 ravel their laws, and their revolutions ; though 
 he should dive into the mysteries of matter, 
 and expound the phenomena of earth and air ; 
 though he should be conversant with all the 
 writings, and the sayings, and the actions of 
 the dead ; though he should hold the pencil of 
 Parrhasius, the chisel of Polycletes, or the lyre 
 of Pindar ; though he should do one or all of 
 these things, yet know not the secret springs 
 of his own mind, the foundation of his opin- 
 ions, the motives of his actions ; if he hold not 
 the rein over his passions ; if he have not clear- 
 ed the mist of all prejudices from his under- 
 standing ; if he have not rubbed off all intol- 
 erance from his judgments; if he know not to
 
 116 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 weigh his own actions, and the actions of oth- 
 ers, in the balance of justice that man hath 
 not knowledge ; nor, though he he a man of 
 science, a man of learning, or an artist, he is 
 not a sage. He must yet sit down, patient, at 
 the feet of philosophy. With all his learning, 
 he hath yet to learn, and perhaps a harder 
 task, he hath to unlearn." 
 
 The Master here paused, hut the ears .of 
 Theon still hung upon his lips. " Do not 
 cease," he exclaimed. "I could listen to you 
 through eternity." 
 
 " I cannot promise to declaim quite so long," 
 returned the sage, smiling, "But if you wish 
 it, we will follow out the topic when we have 
 joined our other friends." 
 
 They rose, and hent their steps to the public 
 walk.
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 117 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 EPICURUS stood in the midst of his expectant 
 scholars. " My sons," he said, " why do you 
 enter the Garden 1 Is it to seek happiness, or 
 to seek virtue and knowledge ? Attend, and 
 I will show you that in finding one, you shall 
 find the three. To be happy, we must be vir- 
 tuous; and when we are virtuous, we are 
 wise. Let us then begin: and first, let us 
 for awhile hush our passions into slumber, 
 forget our prejudices, and cast away our van- 
 ity and our pride. Thus patient and mod- 
 est, let us come to the feet of Philosophy; 
 let us say to her, l Behold us, scholars and 
 children, gifted by nature with faculties, affec- 
 tions, and passions. Teach us their use, and 
 their guidance. Show us how to turn them to 
 account how best to make them conduce 
 to our ease, and minister to our enjoyment.' 
 
 " 'Sons of earth,' says the Deity, 'you have 
 spoken wisely ; you feel that you are gifted by 
 nature with faculties, affections, and passions ; 
 and you perceive that on the right exertion 
 and direction of these depends your well-being. 
 It does so. Your affections both of soul and
 
 118 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 body may be shortly reduced to two, pleasure 
 and pain ; the one troublesome, and the other 
 agreeable. It is natural and befitting, there- 
 fore, that you shun pain, and desire and .follow 
 after pleasure. Set forth then on the pursuit ; 
 but ere you start, be sure that it is in the right 
 road, and that you have your eye on the true 
 object. Perfect pleasure, which is happiness, 
 you will have attained when you have brought 
 your bodies and souls into a state of satisfied 
 tranquillity. To arrive at this, much previous 
 exertion is requisite ; yet exertion, not violent, 
 only constant and even. And first, the body, 
 with its passions and appetites, demands grati- 
 fication and indulgence. But beware ! for 
 here are the hidden rocks which may ship- 
 wreck your bark on its passage, and shut you 
 out forever from the haven of repose. Pro- 
 vide yourselves then with a skilled pilot, who 
 may steer you through the Scylla and Charyb- 
 dis of your carnal affections, and point the 
 steady helm through the deep waters of your 
 passions. Behold her ! It is Prudence, the 
 mother of the virtues, and the handmaid of 
 wisdom. Ask, and she will tell you, that 
 gratification will give new edge to the hunger 
 of your appetites, and that the storm of the 
 passions shall kindle with indulgence. Ask, 
 and she will tell you, that sensual pleasure is
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 119 
 
 pain covered with the mask of happiness. Be- 
 hold, she strips it from her face, and reveals 
 the features of disease, disquietude, and re- 
 morse. Ask, and she will tell you, that hap- 
 piness is not found in tumult, but tranquillity ; 
 and that, not the tranquillity of indolence and 
 inaction, but of a healthy contentment of soul 
 and body. Ask, and she will tell you, that a 
 happy life is like neither to a roaring torrent, 
 nor a stagnant pool, but to a placid and crystal 
 stream, that flows gently and silently along. 
 And now, Prudence shall bring to you the 
 lovely train of the virtues. Temperance, 
 throwing a bridle on your desires, shall gradu- 
 ally subdue and annihilate those whose present 
 indulgence would only bring future evil ; and 
 others more necessary and more innocent, she 
 shall yet bring down to such becoming moder- 
 ation, as shall prevent all disquiet to the soul, 
 and injury to the body. Fortitude shall 
 strengthen you to bear those diseases which 
 even temperance may not be efficient to pre- 
 vent ; those afflictions which fate may level at 
 you; those persecutions which the folly or 
 malice of man may invent. It shall fit you 
 to bear all things, to conquer fear, and to meet 
 death. Justice shall give you security among 
 your fellows, and satisfaction in your own 
 breasts. Generosity shall endear you to others,
 
 120 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 and sweeten your own nature to yourselves. 
 Gentleness shall take the sting from the malice 
 of your enemies, and make you extract double 
 sweet from the kindness of friends. Gratitude 
 shall lighten the burden of obligation, or render 
 it even pleasant to bear. Friendship shall put 
 the crown on your security and your joy. 
 With these, and yet more virtues, shall pru- 
 dence surround you. And, thus attended, 
 hold on your course in confidence, and moor 
 your barks in the haven of repose.' 
 
 " Thus says Philosophy, my sons, and says 
 she not wisely ? Tell us, ye who have tried 
 the slippery paths of licentiousness, who have 
 given the rein to your passions, and sought 
 pleasure in the lap of voluptuousness; tell us, 
 did ye find her there 1 No, ye did not, or ye 
 would not now inquire of her from Epicurus. 
 Come, then, Philosophy hath shown ye the 
 way. Throw off your old habits, wash impu- 
 rity from your hearts ; take up the bridle of 
 your passions ; govern your minds, and be 
 happy. And ye, my sons, to whom all things 
 are yet new; whose passions, yet in the bud, 
 have never led you to pain and regret ; ye who 
 have yet to begin your career, come ye, also ! 
 Philosophy hath shown ye the way. Keep 
 your hearts innocent, hold the bridle of your 
 passions, govern your minds, and be happy.
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 121 
 
 But, my sons, methinks I hear you say, You 
 have shown us the virtues rather as modifiers 
 and correctors of evil, than as the givers of ac- 
 tual and perfect good. Happiness, you tell us, 
 consists in ease of body and mind ; yet temper- 
 ance cannot secure the former from disease, 
 nor can all the virtues united ward affliction 
 from the latter.' True, my children, Philoso- 
 pJiyLcannot change the laws of nature; but she 
 may teach us to accommodate to them. She 
 cannot annul pain ; but she can arm us to bear 
 it. And though the evils of fate be many, are 
 not the evils of man's coining more? Nature 
 afflicts us with disease ; but for once that it is 
 the infliction of nature, ninety-nine times it is 
 the consequence of our own folly. Nature lev- 
 els us with death ; but how mild is the death 
 of nature, with Philosophy to spread the pil- 
 low, and friendship to take the last sigh, to the 
 protracted agonies of debauchery, subduing the 
 body by inches, while Philosophy is not there 
 to give strength, nor friendship consolation, but 
 while the flames of fever are heated by impa- 
 tience, and the stings of pain envenomed by 
 remorse! And tell me, my sons, when the 
 body of the sage is stretched on the couch of 
 pain, hath he not his mind to minister delight 
 to him ? Hath he not conscience whispering 
 that his present evil is not chargeable to his 
 6
 
 122 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 own past folly, but to the laws of nature, 
 which no effort or foresight of his could have 
 prevented? Hath he not memory to bring to 
 him past pleasures, the pleasures of a well- 
 spent life, on which he may feed even while 
 pain racks his members, and fever consumes 
 his vitals ? Or, what if agony overpower his 
 frame, and cripple his faculties, is there not 
 death at hand to reach him deliverance? 
 Here, then, is death, that giant of terror, acting 
 as a friend. But does he interrupt our enjoy- 
 ments as well as our sufferings ? And is it for 
 this we fear him ? Ought we not rather to 
 rejoice, seeing that the day of life has its bright 
 and its clouded hours, that we are laid to sleep 
 while the sun of joy yet shines, before the 
 storm of fate has broken our tranquillity, or 
 the evening of age bedimmed our prospect? 
 Death, then, is never our foe. When not a 
 friend, he cannot be worse than indifferent. 
 For while we are, death is not ; and while death 
 is, we 'are not. To the wise, then, death is 
 nothing. Examine the sills of life, are they not 
 of our own creation, or take they not their 
 darkest hues from our passions or our igno- 
 rance? What is poverty, if we have temper- 
 ance, and can be satisfied with a crust, and a 
 draught from the spring ? if we have mod- 
 esty, and can wear a woollen garment as glad-
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 123 
 
 ly as a Tyrian robe? What is slander, if we 
 have no vanity that it can wound, and no an- 
 ger that it can kindle ? What is neglect, if we 
 have no ambition that it can disappoint, and 
 no pride that it can mortify 1 What is perse- 
 cution, if we have our own bosoms in which 
 to retire, and a spot of earth to sit down and 
 rest upon 1 What is death, when without su- 
 perstition to clothe him with terrors, we can 
 cover our heads, and go to sleep in his arms ? 
 What a list of human calamities are here ex- 
 punged Poverty, slander, neglect, disappoint- 
 ment, persecution, death ! What yet remains 1 
 Disease ? That, too, we have shown temper- 
 ance can often shun, and Philosophy can al- 
 ways alleviate. But there is yet a pain, which 
 the wisest and the best of men cannot escape ; 
 that all of ns, my sons, have felt, or have to 
 feel. Do not your hearts whisper it ? Do you 
 not tell me, that in death there is yet a 
 sting ? That ere he aim at us, he may level 
 the beloved of our soul 1 The father, whose 
 tender care hath reared our infant minds 
 the brother, whom the same breast hath nour- 
 ished, and the same roof sheltered, with whom, 
 side by side, we have grown like two plants 
 by a river, sucking life from the same fountain 
 and strength from the same sun the child 
 whose gay prattle delights our ears, or whose
 
 124 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 opening understanding fixes our hopes; the 
 friend of our choice, with whom we have ex- 
 changed hearts, and shared all our pains and 
 pleasures, whose eye hath reflected the tear of 
 sympathy, whose hand hath smoothed the 
 couch of sickness. Ah ! my sons, here is in- 
 deed a pain, a pain that cuts into the soul. 
 There are masters who will tell you otherwise, 
 who will tell you that it is unworthy of a man 
 to mourn even here. But such, my sons, 
 speak not the truth of experience, or Philoso- 
 phy, but the subtleties of sophistry and pride. 
 He who feels not the loss, hath never felt the 
 possession. He who knows not the grief, hath 
 never known the joy. See the price of a 
 friend in the duties we render him, and the 
 sacrifices we make to him, and which, in mak- 
 ing, we count not sacrifices, but pleasures ! 
 We sorrow for his sorrow; we supply his 
 wants, or if we cannot, we share them. We 
 follow him to exile. We close ourselves in his 
 prison ; we soothe him in sickness ; we strength- 
 en him in death : nay, if it be possible, we 
 throw down our life for his. Oh ! what a 
 treasure is that for which we do so much ! 
 And is it forbidden us to mourn its loss 1 If it 
 be, the power is not with us to obey. Should 
 we, then, to avoid the evil, forego the good ? 
 Shall we shut love from our hearts, that we
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 125 
 
 may not feel the pain of his departure? No; 
 happiness forbids it. Experience forbids it. 
 Let him who hath laid on the pyre the dearest 
 of his soul, who hath washed the urn with the 
 bitterest tears of grief let him say if his heart 
 hath ever formed the wish that it had never 
 shrined within it whom he now deplores. Let 
 him say if the pleasures of the sweet commun- 
 ion of his former days doth not still live in 
 his remembrance. If he love not to recall the 
 image of the departed, the tones of his voice, 
 the words of his discourse, the deeds of his 
 kindness, the amiable virtues of his life ! If, 
 while he weeps the loss of his friend, he- smiles 
 not to think that he once possessed him. He 
 who knows not friendship, knows not the pur- 
 est pleasure of earth. Yet if fate deprive us of 
 it, though we grieve, we do not sink ; Philoso- 
 phy is still at hand, and she upholds us with 
 fortitude. And think, my sons, perhaps in the 
 very evil we dread, there is a good ; perhaps 
 the very uncertainty of the tenure gives it val- 
 ue in our eyes ; perhaps all our pleasures take 
 their, zest from the known possibility of their 
 interruption. What were the glories of the 
 sun, if we knew not the gloom of darkness 1 
 What the refreshing breezes of morning and 
 evening, if we felt not the fervors of noon 1 
 Should we value the lovely flower, if it bloom-
 
 126 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS, 
 
 ed eternally ; or the luscious fruit, if it hung 
 always on ike bough ? Are not the smiles of 
 the heavens more beautiful in contrast with 
 their frowns, and the delights of the seasons 
 more grateful from their vicissitudes ? Let us 
 then be slow to blame nature, for perhaps in 
 her apparent errors there is a hidden wisdom. 
 Let us not quarrel with fate, for perhaps in our 
 evils lie the seeds of our good. Were our body 
 never subject to sickness, we might be insensi- 
 ble to the joy of health. Were our life eternal, 
 our tranquillity might sink into inaction. 
 Were our friendship not threatened with inter- 
 ruption, it might want much of its tenderness. 
 This, then, my sons, is our duty, for this is our 
 r"~iterest and our happiness : to seek our pleas- 
 ures from the hands of the virtues, and for the 
 pain which may befall us, to submit to it with 
 patience, or bear up against it with fortitude. 
 To walk, in short, through life innocently and 
 tranquilly : and to look on death as its gentle 
 termination, which it becomes us to meet with 
 ready minds, neither regretting the past, nor 
 anxious for the future, ' ' 
 
 The Sage had scarcely ceased, when a scho- 
 lar advanced from the crowd, and bowing his 
 head with reverence, stooped and touched the 
 knees of his Master. " Refuse not my hom- 
 age," he said, "nor call the expression of it
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 127 
 
 presumptuous." Epicurus raised him in his 
 arms, " Colotes, I am more proud of the hom- 
 age of thy young inind, than I should be of that 
 of the assembled crowd of Olympia. May thy 
 master, my son, never lose his power over it, 
 
 as 1 feel that h will never abuse it." 
 
 t. 
 ? lo 8ffir?irO &d) J)9Tqj m) y::T7rf I<x>:> on 1-r^r 
 
 -illU v/i-^-THjqo ni honiBrb gfswris -'vfiT ..u.-^/f 
 {>.iij slooda I?riiv/ nifl8ijdYlobbiJ8fl^jJw .-''in 
 
 ^ v?ol $ Itfu; < r :s;nJ 
 orlT ..siosnor 1 !! " ! t 
 
 ed) Jo 
 
 bor-.^ffti i.orf sf;i 
 
 dlK/t: [>O-J>T <>! fw70g 
 
 iir-'?: ;' j^Rff Sid v/Oirfj -:ni?n ,/>i.!ia od !t ! r.r.ju 
 !)(!u rnolwrw C''f?n!r./j ot jsnipailoi*] ;1 /J M ';|
 
 128 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 -mo .i.J 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 VCM .F-.iqr.-7 
 
 THE sun had far declined from its meridian, 
 yet no cool breeze tempered the fervors of the 
 heat. The air was chained in oppressive still- 
 ness, when suddenly a bustling wind shook the 
 trees, and a low growling reverberated round 
 the horizon. The scholars retired before the 
 threatening storm; but Theon, his ear still 
 filled with the musical voice of the sage, and 
 his heart imbued with his gentle precepts, lin- 
 gered to feed alone upon the thoughts they had 
 awakened in him. " How mad is the folly of 
 man ! " he said, as he threw his back against a 
 tree. " Professing to admire wisdom and love 
 virtue, and yet ever persecuting and slander- 
 ing both. How vain is it to look for credit 
 by teaching truth, or to seek fame by the road 
 of virtue ! " 
 
 " Thy regret is idle, my son," said a well 
 known voice in his ear. 
 
 " Oh ! my guardian spirit ! " cried the 
 startled youth " Is it you? " 
 
 "I linger," said the Gargettian, "to watch 
 the approach of the storm, and I suppose you 
 do the same."
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 129 
 
 "No," returned the youth, "I hardly heed- 
 ed the heavens. ' ? 
 
 "They are singular, however, at this mo- 
 ment." Theon looked where the sage point- 
 ed ; a dark mass of vapors was piled upon the 
 head of Hyniettus, from which two columns, 
 shooting forth like the branches of some giant 
 oak, spread themselves over the sky. The op- 
 posing sun, fast travelling to the horizon, look- 
 ed red through the heated atmosphere, and 
 flashed a deep glare on their murky sides. 
 Soon half the landscape was blackened with 
 the sinking clouds, that each moment increas- 
 ing in bulk and density, seemed to touch the 
 bosom of the earth. The western half glowed 
 with a brilliant light, like molten gold. The 
 distant outline was marked with a pencil of 
 fire, while the gardens and villas that speck- 
 led the plaid, seemed illuminated in jubilee. 
 
 " See," said the sage, stretching his hand 
 towards the gilded scene, " see the image of 
 that fame which is not founded in virtue. 
 Thus bright may it shine for a moment, but 
 the cloud of oblivion or infamy comes fast to 
 cover its glory." 
 
 "Is it so ? " said Theon. " Do not the vile 
 of the earth fill the tongues of men, and are not 
 the noble forgotten 1 Does not the titled mur- 
 derer inscribe his name on the tablets of eter- 
 6*
 
 130 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 nity, with the sword which is dipped in the 
 blood of his fellows ? And does not the man 
 who hath spent his youth, and manhood, and 
 age, in the courts of wisdom who has plant- 
 ed peace at the hearth, and given truth to the 
 rising age, does he not go down to the grave in 
 silence, his bones unhonored, and his name 
 forgotten 1 " 
 
 " Possibly his name ; but, if he have planted 
 peace at the hearth, and given truth to the ris- 
 ing age, surely not his better part his vir- 
 tues. Do not confound noise with fame. The 
 man who is remembered, is not always honor- 
 ed; and reflect, what a man toils for, that 
 probably [will he win. The titled murderer, 
 who weaves his fate with that of empires, will 
 with them go down to posterity. The sage, 
 who does his work in the silence of retirement, 
 unobserved in his own generation, will pass 
 into the silence of the grave, unknown to the 
 future." 
 
 "But suppose he be known 1 ? How few 
 worshippers crowd to his shrine, and what 
 millions to that of the other ! " 
 
 "And those few, my son, who are they? 
 The wise of the earth, the enlightened patriot, 
 the discerning philosopher. And who are the 
 millions? The ignorant, the prejudiced, and 
 the idle. Nor yet, let us so wrong the reason
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 131 
 
 of our species, as to say, that they always give 
 honor to the mischievous rather than the use- 
 ful gratitude to their oppressors, rather than 
 their benefactors. In instances they may be 
 blind, but in the gross they are just. The 
 splendor of action, the daring of enterprise, or 
 the glitter of majesty, may seize their imagin- 
 ation, and so drown their judgment, but never 
 is it the tyranny of power, the wantonness of 
 cruelty, the brutality of vice, which they adore, 
 any more than it is the innocence and useful- 
 ness of virtue, which they despise. The unit- 
 ed experience of mankind has pronounced vir- 
 tue to be the great good : nay, so universal is 
 the conviction, that even those who insult her 
 in their practice, bow to her in their under- 
 standing. Man is for the most part more fool 
 than knave, more weak than depraved in ac- 
 tion, more ignorant than vicious in judgment ; 
 and seldom is he, so weak and so ignorant, as 
 not to see his own interest, and value him who 
 promotes it. But say, that he often slanders 
 the virtuous, and persecutes the wise ; he does 
 it more in error than from depravity. He is 
 credulous, and on the report of malice, takes 
 virtue for hypocrisy : he is superstitious, and 
 some of the truths of wisdom appear to him 
 profane. Say he does homage to vice ; you 
 will find when he does it, he believes her to be
 
 132 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 virtue. Hypocrisy has masked her deformity, 
 or talent decked her with beauty. Is here, 
 then, subject for wrath? Rather, surely, for 
 compassion. Is here matter for disgust? 
 Rather, surely, for exertion. The darker the 
 ignorance, the more praise to the sage who 
 dispels it ; the deeper the prejudice, more 
 fame to the courage which braves it. But 
 may the courage be vain ? May the sage fall 
 the victim of the ignorance he combats ? He 
 may ; he often has. But ere he engage, knows 
 he not the risk ? The risk is to himself ; the 
 profit to mankind. To a benevolent soul, the 
 odds is worth the throw ; and though it be 
 against him at the present, he may win it in 
 the future. The sage, whose vision is cleared 
 from the mists of prejudice, can stretch it over 
 the existing age, to the kindling horizon of the 
 succeeding, and see, perhaps, unborn genera- 
 tions weeping the injustice of their fathers, and 
 worshipping those truths which they con- 
 demned. Or is it otherwise ? Lives he in the 
 old age of the world, and does he see the 
 stream of time flowing through a soil yet more 
 rank with prejudice and evil ? Say, then, - 
 were the praise of such a world a fit object of 
 his ambition, or shall he be jealous of the fame 
 which ignorance yields to the unworthy ? But 
 any way, my son, it is not the voice of fame
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 133 
 
 that we should seek in the practice of virtue, 
 but the peace of self-satisfaction. The object 
 of the sage is to make himself independent of 
 all that he cannot command within himself. 
 Yet, when I speak of independence, I mean 
 not indifference ; while we make ourselves suf- 
 ficient for ourselves, we need not forget the 
 crowd about us. We are not wise in the con- 
 tempt of others, but in calm approbation of 
 ourselves." 
 
 " Still dost thou drop thy head, my son 1 " 
 said the gentle philosopher, laying a hand on 
 the shoulder of his young friend. 
 b'tf'Yonr words sink deep into my soul," re- 
 plied Theon; "yet they have not chased the 
 melancholy they found there. I have not such 
 a world in myself as to be independent of that 
 about me, nor can I forgive the offences of my 
 fellows, merely because they commit them 
 from ignorance. Nay, is not their very ignor- 
 ance often a crime, when the voice of truth is 
 whispering in their ear?" 
 
 " And if they do not hear her whisper in 
 the one ear, it is because prejudice is crying 
 aloud into the other." 
 
 " Prejudice ! I hate prejudice," said Theon. 
 
 " And so do I," said the Master. 
 
 " Yes, but I am provoked with it." 
 
 " I suspect that will not remove the evil." ;
 
 134 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 "Nothing will remove it. It is inherent in 
 men's nature." 
 
 " Then as we are men, it may be inherent 
 in ours. Trust me, my son, it is better to cor- 
 rect ourselves, than to find fault with our 
 neighbors." 
 
 " But is it not allowed to do both 1 Can we 
 help seeing the errors of the world in which 
 we live, and seeing, can we help being angry 
 at them?" 
 
 " Certainly not the seeing them, but I hope, 
 very possibly, the being angry with them. 
 He that loses temper with the folly of others, 
 shows that he has folly himself. In which 
 case they have as much right to complain of 
 his, as he of theirs. And have I not been 
 trying to show you, that when you are wise 
 you will be independent of all that you cannot 
 command within yourself? You say you are 
 not so now. I admit it, but when you are 
 wise you will be so. And till you are wise, 
 you have surely no title to quarrel with anoth- 
 er's ignorance." 
 
 " I can never be independent of my friends," 
 returned Theon. "I must ever feel the injus- 
 tice done to them, though I might be regard- 
 less of that which affected merely myself." 
 
 " Why so ? What would enable you to 
 disregard that done to yourself? "
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 " Conscious innocence. Pride, if you will. 
 Contempt of the folly and ignorance of my 
 judges." 
 
 " Well, and are you less conscious of the in- 
 nocence of your friend 1 If you are, where is 
 your indignation ? And if you are not, have 
 you less pride for him than for yourself? Do 
 you respect that folly and ignorance in his 
 judges that you despise in your own ? " 
 
 "I believe it will not stand argument," said 
 Theon. " But you must forgive me if, when 
 I contemplate Epicurus, I feel indignant at the 
 slander which dares to breathe upon his pu- 
 rity." 
 
 " And do you think you were yourself an 
 object of indignation, when you spoke of him 
 as a monster of vice? " 
 
 " Yes, I feel I was." 
 
 " But he felt otherwise," said the Master, 
 "and which, think you, is likely to feel most 
 wisely ? " 
 
 " Ah ! I hope it is Epicurus," said the 
 youth, snatching his instructor's hand. Their 
 conversation was here interrupted by the burst- 
 ing of the storm. The fire flashed round the 
 horizon, the thunder cracked over the zenith, 
 and the first big drops fell from the burdened 
 clouds. |" We are near the Temple," said the 
 sage, "let us seek shelter under its portico.
 
 136 A. FETf DATS IN ATHENS. 
 
 We may watch the storm there, without a wet 
 skin." They had hardly gained it, when the 
 rain poured down in*torrents. Ilissus, whom 
 the burning sun had of late faded into a feeble 
 rill, soon filled and overflowed his bed : wave 
 after wave, in sudden swell, came roaring 
 down, as if he now first burst to life from the 
 womb of his parent mountain. But the vio- 
 lence of the storm soon spent its strength. Al- 
 ready the thunder broke with longer intervals, 
 and a faint light, like the opening of morning, 
 gleamed over the western heavens. At length 
 the sun cleared his barrier of clouds. He stood 
 on the verge of the waves, and shot his level 
 rays over the blazing Salamis and the glisten- 
 ing earth. The sage stood with his young 
 friend in silent admiration, when the eye of the 
 latter was attracted by a horseman, who came 
 full gallop over the plain, directly towards 
 them. The object of his attention had nearly 
 reached the river, when he perceived the rider 
 to be a female. The swift feet of the steed 
 now touched the opposite brink. " Great 
 Jove ! she will not attempt the passage ! ' ; ex- 
 claimed the youth, as he sprung towards the 
 river. " Stop ! stop ! " he cried. She checked 
 the rein, but to.o late. The animal, accustom- 
 ed to the passage, and blinded by speed, 
 plunged into the flood. Theon tore his robe
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 137 
 
 from his shoulders, and was about to make the 
 plunge on his side, when he was grasped by 
 Epicurus. 
 
 " Be not rash. The horse is strong, and the 
 rider skilful." The voice that uttered these 
 words was calm and distinct, but its wonted 
 music was changed into the deep tone of sup- 
 pressed horror. Even at that moment, the 
 accent struck Theon's ear. 
 
 " Do you know her 1 Is she your friend ? Is 
 she dear to you 1 If so ," he made another 
 effort to throw himself forward, but was still 
 restrained by Epicurus. He looked into the 
 philosopher's face. There was no motion in it, 
 save a quivering round the mouth, while the 
 eyes were fixed in aching gaze on the strug- 
 gling animal. He breasted the water midway, 
 when seemingly frightened at the rapidity of 
 the current, he tried to turn. The rider saw 
 the danger, she curbed the rein, she tried with 
 voice and effort to urge him to the conflict. 
 Theon looked again at the sage. He saw he 
 had loosened his mantle, and was prepared to 
 try the flood. "I conjure you, by the gods ! " 
 said the youth, " what is my life to yours?" 
 He grasped the sage in his turn. " Let me 
 save her! I will save her I swear it!" 
 They both struggled a moment for the leap. 
 " 1 swear," continued Theon, with furious en-
 
 138 A FEW PAYS IN ATHENS, 
 
 ergy, " that if you go, I will follow." He 
 made another effort, and dashed from the hold 
 of Epicurus into the river. Naturally strong, 
 he was doubly so at this moment. He felt no 
 fear, he saw not danger. In a moment he 
 was in the centre of the current another 
 stroke, aad he had seized the mane of the 
 steed. But the terrified animal even then 
 gave way to the stream. The rider still strug- 
 gled for her seat. But her strength fast failed, 
 she stretched out her hand with a feeble cry of 
 despair. Theon shot forward yet swifter than 
 the tide ; he drove with a shock against the 
 horse, and caught with one arm the expiring 
 girl. Then, half yielding to the current, he 
 parted with the other the roaring waters, and 
 with effort almost superhuman grappled with 
 their fury. Panting, choking, bewildered, yet 
 never relaxing, he reached, but he knew not 
 how, the land. When he recovered recollec- 
 tion he found himself lying on a couch, in the 
 arms of Epicurus. " Where am I," he said, 
 " and where is the lovely girl? " 
 
 "Safe, safe, as her generous deliverer. Oh ! 
 my son ! now indeed my son, when I owe to 
 thee my Hedeia." 
 
 " Was it your adopted child, then? " cried 
 the youth, with a shout of delirious joy, as he 
 threw himself on the breast of the sage. "But
 
 JL FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 139 
 
 tell me," he said, rising and looking round on 
 Metrodorus, who, with two other scholars, 
 stood beside the couch, " how came I here? " 
 
 'I believe," said Metrodorus, "the Master 
 swam to your aid at least, we found him 
 lifting you and Hedeia from the water." 
 
 " I watched your strength, my son, and re- 
 served mine till it should fail ; when I observ- 
 ed it to do so, I came to your assistance. 
 Now, compose yourself awhile, and I will go 
 and put myself into a dry tunic." 
 
 .t'iV/ !.;' 
 
 ,>hl jo 
 
 li/. . /.ii'i-i-i ;;:> buu jioiji;-
 
 140 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THEON, rising recruited from the warm bath, 
 and his limbs being well rubbed with oint- 
 ments, joined the party at supper in health and 
 spirits. It consisted of the Master, Leontium, 
 Metrodorus, and two other scholars, whose 
 persons were new to him. There was some- 
 thing in the gentle manners of one, not unmix- 
 ed with a little awkwardness, the grave repose 
 of his features, the abstract thought that lined 
 his forehead, and fixed his mild eye, that led 
 him to guess it was Polycenus. The other, 
 whose gait had the dignity of manhood, and 
 the polish of art; whose face, without being 
 handsome, had that beauty which refined sen- 
 timent and a well stored mind always throw 
 more or less into the features ; whose whole 
 appearance showed at once the fine scholar and 
 the amiable man, fixed instantly Theon's at- 
 tention and curiosity. All received the youth 
 with congratulations, and Metrodorus, as he 
 held him in his embrace, jokingly upbraided 
 him as a greedy and barbarous invader, who 
 was carrying off, in his single person, the
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 141 
 
 whole love and honor of the Garden. " But 
 yet," he added, " have a care; for I doubt you 
 have secured the envy also." 
 
 " I believe it," said Theon. " At least I 
 know I should envy you, or any of your frater- 
 nity, who had risked his life, aye, or lost it, in 
 the service of your Master, or any your Master 
 loved." 
 
 " Well said, my dear youth," said the 
 stranger, taking his hand; "and when you 
 have seen more of the nymph you so gallantly 
 rescued, you will perhaps think the man a no 
 less object of envy, who should risk his life 
 for her, or any she loved." 
 
 They moved to the table, when Leontium 
 whispered Theon, "Hermachusof Mytelene, 
 the bosom friend of Epicurus." 
 
 "I thank you," replied Theon, "you have 
 well read my curidsity." 
 
 The party were about to place themselves, 
 when a sound in the passage turned all eyes to 
 the door. " Yes, nurse, you may just peacea- 
 bly let me take my own way. Go, go, I am 
 quite well, quite warm, and quite active. I 
 tell you, you have rubbed my skin off would 
 you rub away my flesh too ? " And in came, 
 with the light foot of a nymph of Dian, the 
 young Hedeia. A white garment, carelessly 
 adjusted, fell, with inimitable grace, over her
 
 142 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 airy form ; in equal negligence, her long hair, 
 still moist from the recent waves, and dishev- 
 elled by the anxious rubbing of her careful at- 
 tendant, hung down her shoulders to her zone. 
 Her face, though pale from late alarm and fa- 
 tigue, beaming with life and joy. Her full 
 dark eyes sparkling with intelligence, and her 
 lips, though their coral was slightly faded, 
 lovely with smiles. In one hand she held a 
 goblet, in the other a chaplet of myrtle. 
 " Which is my hero? " she asked, in a voice 
 more sweet than the evening zephyr, as she 
 looked round the board. "Am I right?" ap- 
 proaching Theon. The youth, as he gazed on 
 the lovely face, forgot to answer. " Nay, is it 
 a statue? " leaning forward, and gazing in her 
 turn, as if in curious inspection, 
 
 " No, a slave," said Theon, half smiling, 
 half blushing, as he stooped his knee, while 
 she placed the garland on his head. 
 
 "I come to pledge you,' 7 she said, putting 
 the cup to her lips, " and to bid you pledge 
 me," presenting it with bewitching grace to 
 the youth. He took it in speechless ecstasy 
 from her taper fingers, and turning that side 
 to his mouth which had received the touch of 
 her's, quaffed off at once the draught of wine 
 and love. 
 
 "Beware," said a voice in his ear; "it is
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 143 
 
 the cup of Circe." He turned, Polyoenus stood 
 behind him ; but when he saw his motionless 
 features, he could hardly believe the whisper 
 had been uttered by him. 
 
 ' I know," continued the fair one, pointing 
 to the table, " there is but cold beverage here 
 for a drowned man. My wise father may 
 know to give comfort to the mind, but come to 
 ray good nurse, when you want the comfort of 
 the body. She is the most skilful compounder 
 of elixirs, philters, and every palatable medi- 
 cine that you might haply find in all Greece, 
 all Asia, aye, or all the earth. And now make 
 way," putting back the surrounding company, 
 and leading Theon by the arm to the upper 
 end of the table. " Behold the king of the 
 feast." 
 
 " That is, if you are the queen," said the in- 
 toxicated youth. i 
 
 "Oh! certainly," placing herself by his side, 
 " I never refuse consequence, whenever I can 
 get it." 
 
 "Wherever you can take it, you mean," 
 said the Master laughing. 
 
 'And is not that every where 7" said Her- 
 machus, bowing to the fair girl. 
 
 "Yes, I believe it is. A pretty face, my 
 friends, may presume much; a willful nature
 
 144 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 may carry all things. I have both to perfec- 
 tion; have I not?" 
 
 "Praise to Venus, and the Graces!" said 
 Leontium; "our sister has brought a heart as 
 gay from the college of Pythagoras, as she 
 took into it." 
 
 " To be sure ; and did you expect other- 
 wise ? Psha ! you philosophers know nothing 
 of human nature. I could have told you be- 
 fore this last experiment, that humor lies in 
 contrast, and that a wag will find more sub- 
 ject in a synod of grave sages than a crew of 
 laughing wits. You must know," turning to 
 Theon, "I have been on a visit to a wise man, 
 a very wise man, who has followed from his 
 youth up the whim, and all very wise men 
 have whims, of restoring the neglected school 
 of Pythagoras to its pristine greatness. Ac- 
 cordingly, he has collected and brought up 
 some dozen submissive youths to his full satis- 
 faction ; for not one of them dare know his 
 right hand from his left, but on his master's 
 authority, doubly backed by that of the great 
 founder. They have, in short, no purse of 
 their own, no time of their own, no tongue of 
 their own, no will of their own, and no 
 thought of their own. You cannot conceive a 
 more perfect community. One more virtu-
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 145 
 
 ously insipid, more scientifically absurd, or 
 more wisely ignorant." 
 
 "Fie, fie, you giddy jade," said the Master, 
 smiling, while he tried to frown. 
 
 "Giddy, not at all. I am delivering grave 
 matter of fact story." 
 
 " And we are all ear," said Hermachus, " so 
 pray let us have the whole of it." 
 
 " The whole ] nay, you have it already. 
 An abode of the blessed ; a house with twelve 
 bodies in it, and one brain to serve them all." 
 
 "Why," replied Hermachus, "I believe you 
 have at home some hundred bodies in the same 
 predicament." 
 
 " To be sure; and so I told the sage Pytha- 
 gorean, when he looked so complacently on 
 his twelve pieces of mechanism, and assured 
 him that were it not for me, there would not 
 be a single original in the Garden save the 
 Master. I assure you, father, I gave just as 
 matter of fact a description of your household, 
 as I now do of the old Pythagorean's. And, a 
 most singular coincidence, I remember he 
 cried, ' Fie, fie,' just as you did now. Once 
 more, it was a most perfect household ; with 
 the men, all peace, method, virtue, learning 
 and absurdity : with the women, all silence 
 order, ignorance, modesty, and stupidity." 
 
 "And pray, sister," said Metrodorus, "what 
 
 7
 
 146 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 made you leave a society that afforded such 
 food to your satire? " 
 
 " Because, brother, the richest food cloys the 
 fastest. I passed three days to my perfect sat- 
 isfaction ; a fourth would have killed me." 
 
 " And your friends, too," said the philos- 
 opher, shaking his head. 
 
 " Killed them ? They never knew they had 
 life, till I found it out for them. No, no, I left 
 sore hearts behind me. The Master indeed, 
 ah! the Master! Poor man, shall I confess 
 it? Before I left the house, he caught one of 
 his pupils looking into a mirror with a candle, 
 heard that another had stirred the fire with a 
 sword, and oh ! more dreadful than all, that a 
 third had swallowed a bean.* If I could have 
 staid three days longer, I might have wound 
 my girdle round the necks of the whole dozen, 
 brought them on my back, and laid them at 
 the feet of Epicurus." 
 
 "And what said the Master all this time?" 
 said Leontium. 
 
 "Said he? what said he? umph ! I never 
 heard what he said, for I was reading what he 
 felt." 
 
 " And what felt he ? " asked Hermachus. 
 
 *Alluding to the whimsical superstitions of Pythagoras, 
 or, perhaps it wer more just to say, *-his followers.
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 147 
 
 "Just what you have felt and you too," 
 looking at Polyosnus. "Aye, and you also, 
 very sage philosopher ; " and turning short 
 round to Theon, " what you have to feel, if 
 you have to feel, if you have not yet felt 
 that I was vastly witty, vastly amusing, and 
 vastly beautiful." 
 
 "And do you think," said the Gargettian, 
 " when we feel all this, we can't be angry with 
 you?" 
 
 "Nay, what do you think? But no, no, I 
 know you all better than you know yourselves. 
 And I think you cannot, or if you can, 'tis as 
 the poet, who curses the muse he burns to pro- 
 pitiate. Oh ! philosophy ! philosophy ! thou 
 usest hard maxims and showest a grave face, 
 yet thy maxims are but words, and thy face 
 but a mask. A skilful histrion, who, when 
 the buskin is off, paint, plaster, and garment 
 thrown aside, stands no higher, no fairer, and 
 no more mighty, than the youngest, poorest, 
 and simplest of thy gaping worshippers. Ah ! 
 friends ! laugh and frown ; but show me the 
 man, the wisest, the gravest, or the sourest, 
 that a bright pair of eyes can't make a fool of." 
 
 "Ah! you proud girl," said Hermachus, 
 " tremble ! remember the blue-eyed Sappho 
 died at last for a Phaon." 
 
 "Well, if such be my fate, I must submit.
 
 148 
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 I do not deny, because I have been wise hith- 
 erto, that I may not turn fool with the philos- 
 ophers, before I die." 
 
 " What an excellent school for the rearing of 
 youth," said the Master, " the old Pythagorean 
 must think mine." 
 
 " Judging from me as a specimen, you mean. 
 And trust me now, father, 1 am the best. Do 
 I not practise what you preach ? What you 
 show the way to, do I not possess ? Look at 
 my light foot, look in my laughing eye, read 
 my gay heart, and tell if pleasure be not 
 mine. Confess then, that I take a shorter cut 
 to the goal than your wiser scholars, aye, than 
 your wisest self. You study, you lecture, you 
 argue, you exhort. And what is it all for 1 as 
 if you could not be good without so much 
 learning, and happy without so much talking. 
 Here am I I think I am very good, and I 
 am quite sure I am very happy; yet I never 
 wrote a treatise in my life, and can hardly lis- 
 ten to one without a yawn." 
 
 "Theon," said. Epicurus, smiling, "you see 
 now the priestess of our midnight orgies." 
 
 " Ah ! poor youth, you must have found the 
 Garden but a dull place in my absence. But 
 have patience, it will be better in future." 
 
 "More dangerous," said Polyoenus. 
 
 " Never mind him," whispered Hedeia, in
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 149 
 
 the Corinthian's ear, "he is not the grave 
 man that a bright pair of eyes cannot make a 
 fool of. This is very odd," she continued, 
 looking round the board. " Here am I, the 
 stranger, and one too half drowned, charged 
 with the entertaining of this whole learned 
 society." 
 
 "Nay, my girl," said the Master, "thou 
 hadst need to be whole drowned, ere your 
 friends might secure the happiness of being 
 listened to." 
 
 "Indeed, I believe it's true; and consider- 
 ing that the greatest pleasure of life is the be- 
 ing listened to, I wonder how any one was 
 found to pick me out of the water. The Cor- 
 inthian, to be sure, did not know what he 
 saved; but that the Master should wet his 
 tunic in my service, is a very unaccountable 
 circumstance. Is there any reason for it in 
 philosophy'?" 
 
 " I am afraid none." 
 
 "Or in mathematics?" turning to Polycs- 
 nus. "Now, just see there a proof of my ar- 
 gument. Can any man look more like wis- 
 dom, or less like happiness? This comes of 
 diagrams and ethics. My young Corinthian, 
 take warning." 
 
 " I wish we could fix you to a diagram," 
 said Leontium.
 
 150 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 " The Graces forfend ! and why should you 
 wish it ? Think you it would make me 
 wiser 1 Let Polycenus be judge, if I am not 
 wiser than he. I admire the different pre- 
 scriptions that are given by different doctors. 
 The wife of the good Pythagorean recom- 
 mended me a distaff." 
 
 "Well," said Hermachus, " that might do 
 equally." 
 
 "Pray, why don't you take one yourself)" 
 
 "I, you see, am busy with philosophy." 
 
 " And so am I, with laughing at it. Ah ! 
 my sage brother, every man thinks that perfec- 
 tion, that he is himself that the only knowl- 
 edge that he possesses and tfiat the only 
 pleasure that he pursues. Trust me, there 
 are as many ways of living as there are men, 
 and one is no more fit to lead another, than a 
 bird to lead a fish, or a fish a quadruped." 
 
 " You would make a strange world, were 
 you the queen of it," said Hermachus, laugh- 
 ing. 
 
 "Just as strange, and no stranger than it is 
 at present. For why ? I should take it as I 
 found it, and leave it as I found it. 'Tis you 
 philosophers, who would rub and twist, and 
 plague and doctor it, and fret your souls out, to 
 bring all its heterogeneous parts, fools, wits,
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 151 
 
 knaves, simpletons, grave, gay, light, heavy,, 
 long faced and short faced, black, white, 
 brown, straight and crooked, tall, short, thin 
 and fat, to fit together, and patient reflect each 
 other, like the acorns of an oak, or the modest 
 wives and helpless daughters of the good citi- 
 zens of Athens ; 'tis you, I say, who would 
 make a strange world, were you kings of it 
 you would shorten and lengthen, clip, pull, 
 and carve men's minds to fit your systems, as 
 the tyrant did men's bodies to fit his bed." 
 
 "I grant there's some truth, my girl, in thy 
 nonsense," said the Master. 
 
 " And I grant that there is not a philosopher 
 in Athens, who would have granted as much, 
 save thyself. You will find, my young hero," 
 turning to Theon, "that my father philosophi- 
 ses more sense, that is, less absurdity, than any 
 man since the seven sages, nay ! even than the 
 seven sages philosophized themselves. He 
 only lacks to be a perfectly wise man " 
 
 "To burn," said the Master, "his books of 
 philosophy, and to sing a tune to thy lyre." 
 
 " No, it shall do to let me sing a tune to it 
 myself." She bounded from the couch and 
 the room, and returned in a moment, with the 
 instrument in her hand. " Fear not," she 
 said, nodding to the sage, as she lightly swept
 
 A FEW BAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 the chords, " I shall not woo my own lover, 
 but your mistress." 
 
 " Come, Goddess ! come ! not in thy power, 
 
 With gait and garb austere. 
 
 And threatning brow severe, 
 Like stern Olympus in the judgment hour ; 
 But come with looks and heart assuring, 
 Come with smiling eyes alluring, 
 Moving soft to Lydian measures, 
 Girt with graces, loves, and pleasures, 
 Bound with Basilea's zone. 
 Come, Virtue ! come ! in joyous tone 
 We bid thee welcome to our hearth, 
 For well we know, that thou alone 
 Canst give the purest bliss of earth." 
 
 " No thanks, no thanks. I shall take my 
 own reward," and stealing behind Epicurus, 
 she threw her white arms round his neck, and 
 laid her cheek on his lips. Then rising, 
 " Good dreams be with you ! " and waving 
 round her hand, and throwing a smile on 
 Theon, vanished in an instant. The youth 
 saw and heard no more, but sat as in a dream, 
 until the party divided. 
 
 "Have a care," whispered the Master, as he 
 followed him into the vestibule. "Cupid is a 
 knavish god, he can pierce the hearts of others, 
 and hold a shield before his own."
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 153 
 
 . j 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 . ; 'i >in'TTij JG }V*{|};T ;jf)i;> wi'T .K^iiin^'M'J "}f> 
 
 NIGHT'S refreshing airs fanned the cheeks of 
 Theon, and rustled the myrtle on his brow; 
 but the subtle fever of love which swept 
 through his veins, and throbbed in his heart 
 and temples, was beyond their cooling influ- 
 ence. The noisy business of life had now given 
 place in the streets to noisy merriment. The 
 song and the dance sounded from the open 
 portals ; and the young votaries of Bacchus, in 
 all the frenzy of the god, rushed from the 
 evening banquet, to the haunts of midnight 
 excess, while the trembling lover glided past to 
 the stolen interview, shrinking even from the 
 light of Day's pale sister. Theon turned ab- 
 ruptly from the crowd, and sought instinctive- 
 ly a public walk, at this hour always private, 
 where he had often mused on the mysteries of 
 philosophy, and taxed his immature judgment 
 to hold the balance between the doctrines of 
 her contending schools. No thoughts so deep 
 and high now filled his youthful fancy. He 
 wandered on, his senses steeped in delirium 
 not less potent than that of wine, until his 
 
 7*
 
 154 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 steps were suddenly arrested by a somewhat 
 rude rencounter with a human figure, advanc- 
 ing with a pace more deliberate than his own. 
 He started backwards and his eyes met those 
 of Cleanthes. The stoic paused a moment, 
 then moved to pass on. But Theon, however 
 little he might have desired such a companion 
 at such a moment, hailed him by name, and 
 placed himself at his side. Again Cleanthes 
 gazed on him in silence ; when Theon, follow- 
 ing the direction of his glance, raised a hand 
 to his temples, and removed, with a conscious 
 blush, the oifending garland. He held it for a 
 moment; then, placing i^ in his bosom 
 "You misjudge this innocent token; a 
 pledge of acknowledgment for a life redeemed 
 from the waves." 
 
 " Would that I might receive a pledge of the 
 redemption of thy virtue, Thon, from the 
 flood of destruction ! For thy sake I have 
 opened the volumes of this smooth deceiver. 
 And shall a few fair words and a fairer coun- 
 tenance shield such doctrines from approbrium ?- 
 Shall he who robs virtue of her sublimity, the 
 Gods of their power, man of his immortality, 
 and creation of its providence, pass for a 
 teacher of truth, and expounder of the laws of 
 nature ? Where is thy reason, Theon ? where 
 thy moral sense ? to see, in doctrines such as
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 155 
 
 these, aught but impiety and crime, or to im- 
 agine, that he, who advocates them, can merit 
 aught but the scorn of the wise, and the oppro- 
 brium of the good?" 
 
 " I know not such to be the doctrines of Ep- 
 icurus," said the youth, " and you will excuse 
 my farther reply, until I shall have examined 
 the philosophy you so bitterly, and apparently 
 so justly condemn." 
 
 " The philosophy ? honor it not with the 
 name." 
 
 " Nay," returned Theon with a smile, 
 " there are so many absurdities honored with 
 that appellative, in Athens, that the compli- 
 ment might pass unchallenged, although ap- 
 plied to one less worthy than, in my eyes, ap- 
 pears the sage of Gargettium. But," prevent- 
 ing the angry interruption of the stoic, " my 
 slowness to judge and to censure offends your 
 enthusiasm. The experience of three days 
 has taught me this caution. My acquaintance, 
 as yet, is rather with the philosopher than the 
 philosophy ; my prejudices at first were equal- 
 ly strong against both. Having discovered 
 my error with respect to one, ought 1 not to 
 read, listen, and examine, before I condemn 
 the other? And, the rather, as all that I have 
 heard in the garden has hitherto convinced my 
 reason, and awakened my admiration and 
 love."
 
 156 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 " Permit me the question," said Cleanthes, 
 stopping short, and fixing his piercing glance 
 on the countenance of his companion " Honor 
 ye the Gods, and believe ye in a creating 
 cause, and a superintending Providence"? " 
 
 "Surely I do," said Theon. 
 
 "How, then, venerate ye the man who pro- 
 claims his doubt of both ? " 
 
 " So, in my hearing, has never the son of 
 Neocles." 
 
 "But he has and does in the hearing of the 
 world." 
 
 " I have so heard, and ranked it among the 
 libels of his enemies." 
 
 " He has so written, and the fact is acknowl- 
 edged by his friends." 
 
 "I will read his works," said Theon, "and 
 question the writer. A mind more candid, 
 whatever be its errors, exists not, I am per- 
 suaded, than that of Epicurus; I should have 
 said also, a mind more free of errors. But 
 he has taught me to think no mind, however 
 wise, infallible." 
 
 "Call ye such doctrines, errors? I should 
 rather term them crimes." 
 
 " I object not to the word," said Theon. " I 
 will examine into this. The Gods have ye in 
 their keeping ! Good, night." They entered 
 the city, and the friends divided.
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 157 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 -ffh !(.-!> VTJ /-'' fitj^f ^T ;; alrftUM'tU if;ti// " J 
 
 UNEASY thoughts bred unquiet slumbers ; 
 and Theon rose from a restless couch, before 
 the first blush of Aurora tinged the forehead of 
 the sky. He trod the paths of the garden, and 
 waited with impatience, for the first time not 
 unmixed with apprehension, the appearance of 
 the Master. The assertions of Cleanthes were 
 corroborated by the testimony of the public ; 
 but that testimony he had learned to despise. 
 They were made after perusal of Epicurus' s 
 writings ; with these writings he was still un- 
 acquainted. Had they been misinterpreted ? 
 Cleanthes was no Timocrates. If prejudiced, 
 he was incapable of wilful misrepresentation ; 
 and he was too familiar with the science of 
 philosophy, so grossly to misunderstand a rea- 
 soner, as lucid as appeared to be Epicurus. 
 These musings were soon interrupted. The 
 morning star still glowed in the kindling east, 
 when he heard approaching footsteps, and 
 turning from the shades upon a small open 
 lawn where a crystal fountain flowed from the 
 inverted urn of a recumbent naiad, he was 
 greeted by the Sage.
 
 158 
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 "Oh ! no," exclaimed Theon, half audibly, 
 as he gazed on the serene countenance before 
 him, "this man is not an atheist." 
 
 " What thoughts are with you, my son, this 
 morning? " said the philosopher, with kind so- 
 licitude. " I doubt your plunge in Ilyssus dis- 
 turbed your dreams. Did the image of a fair 
 nymph, or of a river god flit round your 
 couch, and drive sleep from your eyelids ?" 
 
 "I was in some danger from the first," said 
 the youth, half smiling, half blushing, "until 
 a visitant of a different character, and one, I 
 imagine, more wont to soothe than to disturb 
 the mind, brought to my imagination a host of 
 doubts and fears, which your presence alone 
 has dispelled." 
 
 "And who played the part of your incu- 
 bus 1 " demanded the Sage. 
 
 " Even yourself, most benign and indulgent 
 of men." 
 
 " Truly, I grieve to have acted so ill by thee, 
 my son. It shall be well, however, if having 
 inflicted the disease, I may be its physician." 
 
 " On leaving you last night," said Theon, 
 " I encountered Cleanthes. He came from the 
 perusal of your writings, and brought charges 
 against them which I was unprepared to an- 
 swer." 
 
 "Let us hear them, my son; perhaps, until
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 you shall have perused them yourself, we may 
 assist your difficulty." 
 
 " First, that they deny the existence of the 
 Gods." 
 
 "I see but one other assertion, that could 
 equal that in folly," said Epicurus. 
 
 " I knew it ! " exclaimed Theon, triumphant- 
 ly ; "I knew it was impossible. But where 
 will not prejudice lead men, when even the 
 upright Cleanthes is capable of slander? " 
 
 "He is utterly incapable of it," said the 
 Master; "and the inaccuracy, in this case, I 
 rather suspect to rest with you than with him. 
 To deny the existence of the Gods would indeed 
 be presumption in a philosopher ; a presump- 
 tion equalled only by that of him who should 
 assert their existence." 
 
 " How ! " exclaimed the youth, with a coun- 
 tenance in which astonishment seemed to sus- 
 pend every other expression. 
 
 " As I never saw the Gods, my son," calmly 
 continued the Sage, " I cannot assert their ex- 
 istence; and, that I never saw them, is no 
 reason for my denying it." 
 
 " But do we believe nothing except that of 
 which we have ocular demonstration ? " 
 
 " Nothing, at least, for which we have not 
 the evidence of one or more of our senses ; that 
 is, when we believe on just grounds, which, 1
 
 160 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 grant, taking men collectively, is very sel- 
 dom." 
 
 " But where would this spirit lead us ? To 
 impiety ! to Atheism ! to all, against which 
 I felt confidence in defending the character 
 and philosophy of Epicurus ! " 
 
 " We will examine presently, my son, into 
 the meaning of the terms you have employed. 
 But as respects your defence of my philosophy, 
 I am sorry that you presumed so much, where 
 you knew so little. Let this serve for another 
 caution against pronouncing before you exam- 
 ine, and asserting before you enquire. It is 
 my usual custom," continued the Master, 
 " with the youth who frequent my School, to 
 defer the discussion of all important questions, 
 until they are naturally, in the course of 
 events, suggested to their own minds. Their 
 curiosity once excited, it is my endeavor, so 
 far as in me lies, to satisfy it. When you first 
 entered the Garden, your mind was unfit for 
 the examination of the subject you have now 
 started: it is no longer so; and we will there- 
 fore enter upon the enquiry, and pursue it in 
 order." 
 
 "Forgive me if I express if I acknowl- 
 edge," said the youth, slightly recoiling from 
 his instructor, " some reluctance to enter on
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 161 
 
 the discussion of truths, whose very discussion 
 would seem to argue a doubt, and " 
 " And what then 1 " 
 " That very doubt were a crime." 
 "It is there that I wished to lead you; and 
 with the examination of this point we shall 
 rest, until time and circumstances .lead you to 
 push the investigation farther. I have in me 
 little of the spirit of proselytism. A mere ab- 
 stract opinion, supposing it not to affect the 
 conduct or disposition of him who holds it, 
 would be in my eyes of very minor impor- 
 tance. And it is only in so far as I believe 
 that all our opinions, however apparently re- 
 moved from any practical consequences, do al- 
 ways more or less affect one or the other 
 our conduct or our dispositions that I am at 
 the pains to correct in my scholars, those 
 which appear to me erroneous. I understand 
 you to say, that to enter upon the discussion of 
 certain opinions, which you consider as sacred 
 truths, would appear to argue a doubt of those 
 truths, and that a doubt would here constitute 
 a crime. Now as I think such a belief incon- 
 sistent with candor and charity two feelings, 
 indispensable both for the enjoyment of happi- 
 ness ourselves, and for its distribution to others, 
 I shall challenge its investigation. If the
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 doubt of any truth shall constitute a crime, 
 then the belief of the same truth should con- 
 stitute a virtue." 
 
 " Perhaps a duty would rather express it." 
 
 "When you charge the neglect of any duty 
 as a crime, or account its fulfilment a virtue, 
 you suppose, the existence of a power to neglect 
 or fulfil ; and it is the exercise of this power, 
 in the one way or the other, which constitutes 
 the merit or demerit. Is it not so ? " 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " Does the human mind possess the power 
 to believe or disbelieve, at pleasure, any truths 
 whatsoever 7" 
 
 "1 am not prepared to answer : but I think 
 it does, since it possesses always the power of 
 investigation." 
 
 "But, possibly, not the will to exercise the 
 power. Take care lest I beat you with your 
 own weapons. I thought this very investiga- 
 tion appeared to you a crime." 
 
 " Your logic is too subtle," said the youth, 
 "for my inexperience." 
 
 " Say rather, my reasoning too close. Did 1 
 bear you down with sounding words and 
 weighty authorities, and confound your under- 
 standing with hair-drawn distinctions, you 
 would be right to retreat from the battery."
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 163 
 
 " I have nothing to object to the fairness of 
 your deductions," said Theon. " But would 
 not the doctrine be dangerous that should es- 
 tablish our inability to help our belief; and 
 might we not stretch the principle, until we as- 
 serted our inability to help our actions ? " 
 
 " We might and with reason. But we will 
 not now traverse the ethical pons asinorum of 
 necessity the most simple and evident of 
 moral truths, and the most darkened, tor- 
 tured, and belabored by moral teachers. You 
 enquire if the doctrine we have essayed to es- 
 tablish, be not dangerous. I reply not, if it 
 be true. Nothing is so dangerous as error, 
 nothing so safe as truth. A dangerous truth 
 would be a contradicion in terms, an anomaly 
 in things." 
 
 "But what is a truth? " said Theon. 
 
 "It is pertinently asked. A truth I consider 
 to be an ascertained fact ; which truth would 
 be changed into an error, the moment the fact, 
 on which it rested, was disproved." 
 
 " I see, then, no fixed basis for truth." 
 
 "It surely has the most fixed of all the 
 nature of things. And it is only an imperfect 
 insight into that nature, which occasions all 
 our erroneous conclusions, whether in physics 
 or morals."
 
 164 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 "But where, if we discard the gods, and 
 their will, as engraven on our hearts, are our 
 guides in the searcji after truth 1 " 
 
 "Our senses, and our faculties as developed 
 in and by the exercise of our senses, are the 
 only guides with which I am acquainted. 
 And I do not see why, even admitting a belief 
 in the gods, and in a superintending provi- 
 dence, the senses should not be viewed as the 
 guides, provided by them, for our direction and 
 instruction. But here is the evil attendant on 
 an ungrounded belief, whatever be its nature. 
 The moment we take one thing for granted we 
 take other things for granted : we are started 
 in a wrong road, and it is seldom we can gain 
 the right one, until we have trodden back our 
 steps to the starting place. I know of but one 
 thing, that a philosopher should take for grant- 
 ed ; and that only because he is forced to do it 
 by an irresistible impulse of his nature ; and 
 because, without doing so, neither truth nor 
 falsehood could exist for him. He must take 
 for granted the evidence of his senses ; in oth- 
 er words, he must believe in the existence of 
 things, as they exist to his senses. I know 
 of no other existence, and can therefore believe 
 in no other : although, reasoning from analo- 
 gy, I may imagine other existences to be.
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 165 
 
 This, for instance, I do as respects the gods. 
 I see around me in the world I inhabit an in- 
 finite variety in the arrangement of matter ; 
 a multitude of sentient beings, possessing dif- 
 ferent kinds, and varying grades of power and 
 intelligence, from the worm that crawls in 
 the dust, to the eagle that soars to the sun, 
 and man who marks to the sun its course. It 
 is possible, it is moreover probable, that, in the 
 worlds which I see not, in the boundless in- 
 finitude and eternal duration of matter, beings 
 may exist, of every countless variety, and 
 varying grades of intelligence, inferior and su- 
 perior to our own, until we descend to a mini- 
 mum, and rise to a maximum, to which the 
 range of our observation affords no parallel, 
 and of which our senses are inadequate to the 
 conception. Thus far, my young friend, I be- 
 lieve in the gods, or in what you will of exist- 
 ences removed from the sphere of my knowl- 
 edge. That you should believe, with positive- 
 ness, in one unseen existence or another, ap- 
 pears to me no crime, although it may appear 
 to me unreasonable : and so, my doubt of the 
 same should appear to you no moral offence, 
 although you might account it erroneous. I 
 fear to fatigue your attention, and will, there-
 
 166 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 fore, dismiss, for the present, these abstruse 
 subjects. 
 
 But we shall both be amply repaid for their 
 discussion, if this truth remain with you 
 that an opinion, right or wrong, can never con- 
 stitute a moral offence, nor be in itself a moral 
 obligation. It may be mistaken ; it may in- 
 volve an absurdity, or a contradiction. Jt is a 
 truth ; or it is an error : it can never be a 
 crime or a virtue."
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 167 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THEON remained transfixed to the same spot 
 of earth on which the Sage left him. A con- 
 fused train of thoughts travelled through his 
 brain, which his reason sought in vain to ar- 
 rest, or to analyze. At one moment it seemed 
 as if a ray of light had dawned upon his mind, 
 opening to it a world of discovery as interest- 
 ing as it was novel. Then suddenly he start- 
 ed as from the brink of a precipice, whose 
 depths were concealed in darkness. "Clean- 
 thes then had justly expounded the doctrines 
 of the garden. But did these doctrines in- 
 volve the delinquency which he had hitherto 
 supposed? Were they inconsistent with rea- 
 son, and irreconcilable with virtue? If so, I 
 shall be able to detect their fallacy," said the 
 youth, pursuing his soliloquy aloud. " It 
 were a poor compliment to the truths I have 
 hitherto worshipped, did I shrink from their 
 investigation. And yet, to question the power 
 of the Gods ! To question their very exist- 
 ence ! To refuse the knee of homage to that 
 great first cause of all things, that speaks, and
 
 168 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 breathes, and shines resplendent throughout all 
 animated nature ! To dispute I know not 
 what of truths, as self-evident as they are 
 sacred ; which speak to our eyes and our ears ; 
 to those very senses whose testimony alone is 
 without appeal in the garden ! " 
 
 " Do you object to the testimony, young 
 Corinthian?" said a voice, which Th eon re- 
 cognised as that of Metrodorus. 
 
 "You arrive opportunely," said Theon ; 
 " that is, if you will listen to the questions of 
 my doubting and embarrassed mind." 
 
 "Say rather, if I can answer them." 
 
 "I attribute to you the ability," said Theon, 
 " since I have heard you quoted as an able ex- 
 pounder of the philosophy of the garden." 
 
 " In the absence of our Zeno," said the 
 scholar with a smile, " 1 sometimes play the 
 part of his Cleanthes. And though you may 
 find me less eloquent than my brother of the 
 porch, I will promise equal fidelity to the text 
 of my original. But here is one, who can ex- 
 pound the doctrine in the letter and the spirit; 
 and, with such an assistant. I should not fear 
 to engage all the scholars and all the masters 
 in Athens." 
 
 " Nay, boast rather of thy cause than of thy 
 assistant," said Leontium, approaching, and 
 playfully tapping the shoulder of Metrodorus ;
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 169 
 
 "nor yet belie thy own talents, my brother. 
 The Corinthian will smile at thy false mod- 
 esty, when he shall have studied thy writings, 
 and listened to thy logical discourses. I imag- 
 ine," she continued, turning her placid gaze on 
 the youth, " that you have hitherto listened to 
 more declamation than reasoning. I might 
 also say, to more sophistry, seeing that you 
 have walked and talked in the Lyceum." 
 " Say rather, walked and listened." 
 "In truth and I believe it," she returned 
 with a smile, "and would that your good 
 sense in this, were more common; and that 
 men would rest content with straining their 
 ears, and forbear from submitting their under- 
 standings, or torturing those of their neigh- 
 bors." 
 
 "It might seem strange," said Metrodorus, 
 "that the pedantry of Aristotle should find so 
 many imitators, and his dark sayings so many 
 believers, in a city, too, now graced arid en- 
 lightened by the simple language, and simple 
 doctrines of an Epicurus. But the language 
 of truth is too simple for inexperienced ears. 
 We start in search of knowledge, like the 
 demi-gods of old in search of adventure, pre- 
 pared to encounter giants, to scale mountains, 
 to pierce into Tartarean gulfs, and to carry off 
 our prize from the gripe of some dark enchant- 
 8
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 . 
 
 er, invulnerable to all save to charmed weap- 
 ons and deity-gifted assailants. To find none 
 of all these things, but, in their stead, a 
 smooth road through a pleasant country, with 
 a familiar guide to direct our curiosity, and 
 point out the beauties of the landscape, disap- 
 points us of all exploit and all notoriety ; and 
 our vanity turns but too often from the fair 
 and open champaign, into error's dark laby- 
 rinths, where we mistake mystery for wisdom, 
 pedantry for knowledge, and prejudice for vir- 
 tue." 
 
 "I admit the truth of the metaphor," said 
 Theon. " But may we not simplify too much 
 as well as too little ? May we not push inves- 
 tigation beyond the limits assigned to human 
 reason, and, with a boldness approaching to 
 profanity, tear, without removing, the veil 
 which enwraps the mysteries of creation from 
 our scrutiny ? " 
 
 "Without challenging the meaning of the 
 terms you have employed," said Metrodorus, 
 "I would observe, that there is little dan- 
 ger of our pushing investigation too far. Un- 
 happily the limits prescribed to us by our few 
 and imperfect senses must ever cramp the 
 sphere of our observation, as compared to the 
 boundless range of things ; and that, even 
 when we shall have strained and improved our
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 171 
 
 senses to the uttermost. We trace an effect to 
 a cause, and that cause to another cause, and 
 so on, till we hold some few links of a chain, 
 whose extent, like the charmed circle, is with- 
 out beginning as without end." 
 jr.-" I apprehend the difficulties," observed Le- 
 on tium, " which embraces the mind of our 
 young friend. Like most aspirants after 
 knowledge, he has a vague and incorrect 
 idea of what he is pursuing, and still more, 
 of what may be attained. In the schools 
 you have hitherto frequented," she contin- 
 ued, addressing the youth, "certain images 
 of virtue, vice, truth, knowledge, are pre- 
 sented to the imagination, and these abstract 
 'qualities, or we may call them, figurative 
 beings, are made at once the objects of specu- 
 lation and adoration. A law is laid down, 
 and the feelings and opinions of men are pred- 
 icated upon it ; a theory is built, and all ani- 
 mate and inanimate nature is made to speak 
 in its support ; an hypothesis is advanced, and 
 all the mysteries of nature are treated as ex- 
 plained. You have heard of, and studied va- 
 rious systems of philosophy ; but real philos- 
 ophy is opposed to all systems. Her whole 
 business is observation ; and the results of that 
 observation constitute all her knowledge. She 
 receives no truths, until she has tested them by
 
 172 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 experience ; she advances no opinions, unsup- 
 ported by the testimony of facts ; she acknowl- 
 edges no virtue, but that involved in beneficial 
 actions ; no vice, but that involved in actions 
 hurtful to ourselves or to others. Above all, 
 she advances no dogmas, is -slow to assert 
 what is, and calls nothing impossible. The 
 science of philosophy is simply a science of ob- 
 servation, both as regards the world without 
 us, and the world within ; and, to advance in 
 it, are requisite only sound senses, well devel- 
 oped and exercised faculties, and a mind free 
 of prejudice. The objects she has in view, as 
 regards the external world, are, first, to see 
 things as they are, and secondly, to examine 
 their structure, to ascertain their properties, 
 and to observe their relations one to the other. 
 As respects the world within, or the philos- 
 ophy of mind, she has in view, first, to exam- 
 ine our sensations, or the impressions of exter- 
 nal things on our senses ; which operation in- 
 volves, and is involved in, the examination of 
 those external things themselves : secondly, to 
 trace back to our sensations, the first develop- 
 ment of all our faculties ; and again, from 
 these sensations, and the exercise of our differ- 
 ent faculties as developed by them, to trace the 
 gradual formation of our moral feelings, and 
 of all our emotions : thirdly, to analyze all
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 173 
 
 these our sensations, thoughts, and emo- 
 tions, that is, to examine the qualities of our 
 own internal, sentient matter, with the same, 
 and yet more, closeness of scrutioy, than we 
 have applied to the examination of the matter 
 that is without us : finally, to investigate the 
 justness of our moral feelings, and to weigh 
 the merit and demerit of human actions; 
 which is, in other words, to judge of their ten- 
 dency to produce good or evil, to excite 
 pleasurable or painful feelings in ourselves or 
 others. You will observe, therefore, that, both 
 as regards the philosophy of physics, and the 
 philosophy of mind, all is simply a process of 
 investigation. It is a journey of discovery, in 
 which, in the one case, we commission our 
 senses to examine the qualities of that matter 
 which is around us, and in the other, endeav- 
 or, by attention to the varieties of our con- 
 sciousness, to gain a knowledge of those quali- 
 ties of matter, which constitute our suscepti- 
 bilities of thought and feeling." 
 
 " This explanation is new to me," observed 
 Theon, "and, I will confess, startling to my 
 imagination. It is pure materialism ! " 
 
 " You may so call it," rejoined Leon tram, 
 "but, when you have so called it what 
 then ? The question remains : is it true ) or 
 is it false ? "
 
 174 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 "I should be disposed to say false, since 
 it confounds all my preconceived notions of 
 truth and error, of right and wrong." 
 
 "Of truth and error, of right and wrong, in 
 the sense of correct or incorrect is, I presume, 
 your meaning," said Leontium. " You do 
 not involve moral rectitude or the contrary, in 
 a matter of opinion? " 
 
 " If the opinion have a moral or immoral 
 tendency I do," said the youth. 
 '-' "A simple matter of fact can have no such 
 tendency, or ought not, if we are rational crea- 
 tures." 
 
 "And would not, if we were always reas- 
 oning beings," said Metrodorus ; "but as the 
 ignorance and superstition which surround our 
 infancy and youth, favor the development of 
 the imagination at the expense of the judg- 
 ment, we are ever employed in the coining of 
 chimeras, rather than in the discovery of 
 truths ; and if ever the poor judgment make 
 an effort to dispel these fancies of the brain, 
 she is repulsed, like a sacrilegious intruder into 
 religious mysteries." 
 
 " Until our opinions are made to rest on 
 facts," said Leontium, " the error of our 
 young friend the most dangerous of all er- 
 rors, being one of principle -and involving 
 many must ever pervade the world. And it
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 175 
 
 was because I suspected this leading miscon- 
 ception of the very nature of the very end 
 and aim of the science he is pursuing, that .1 
 attempted an explanation of what should be 
 sought, and of what can alone be attained. 
 In philosophy that is, in knowledge en- 
 quiry is every thing : theory and hypothesis 
 are worse than nothing. Truth is but approv- 
 ed facts. Truth, then, is one with the knowl- 
 edge of these factak To shrink from enquiry, 
 is to shrink from knowledge. And to pre- 
 judge an opinion as true or false, because it in- 
 terferes with some preconceived abstraction we 
 call vice or virtue, is as if we were to draw the 
 picture of a man we had never seen, and then, 
 upon seeing him, were to dispute his being the 
 man in question, because unlike our picture." 
 
 "But if this opinion interfered with anoth- 
 er, of whose truth we imagined ourselves cer- 
 tain?" 
 
 "Then clearly, in one or the other, we are 
 mistaken ; and the only way to settle the diffi- 
 culty, is to examine and compare the eviden- 
 ces of both." 
 
 " But are there not some truths self-evi- 
 dent?" 
 
 " There are a few which we may so call. 
 That is to say, there are some facts, which we 
 admit upon the evidence of a simple sensation ;
 
 176 
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 as, for instance, that a whole is greater than 
 its part ; that two are more than one : which 
 we receive immediately upon the testimony of 
 our sense of sight or of touch." 
 
 "But are there no moral truths of the same 
 nature?" 
 
 " I am not aware of any. Moral truth, 
 resting entirely upon the ascertained conse- 
 quences of actions, supposes a process of ob- 
 servation and reasoning." 
 
 " What call you, then, a belief in a presiding 
 providence, and a great first cause? " 
 
 "A belief resting upon testimony; which 
 belief will be true or false, according to the 
 correctness or incorrectness of that testimony." 
 
 "Is it not rather a self-evident moral 
 truth?" 
 
 " In my answer, I shall have to divide your 
 question into two. First, it cannot be a moral 
 truth, since it is not deduced from the conse- 
 quences of human action. It can be simply a 
 truth, that is, a fact. Secondly, it is not a 
 self-evident truth, since it is not evident to all 
 minds, and frequently becomes less and less 
 evident, the more it is examined." 
 
 " But is not the existence of a first or creat- 
 ing cause demonstrated to our senses, by all 
 we see, and hear, and feel ? " 
 
 " The existence of all that we see and hear
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 177 
 
 and feel is demonstrated to our senses; and the 
 belief we yield to this existence is immediate 
 and irresistible, that is, intuitive. The exis- 
 tence of the creating cause, that you speak of, 
 is not demonstrated to our senses; and there- 
 fore the belief in it cannot be immediate and 
 irresistible. I prefer the expression ' creating J 
 to < first ' cause, because it seems to present a 
 more intelligible meaning. When you shall 
 have examined farther into the phenomena of 
 nature, you will see, that there can be as little 
 a. first as a last cause." 
 
 "But there must be always a cause, produc- 
 ing an effect?" 
 
 " Certainly ; and so your cause, creating 
 all that we see and hear and feel must itself 
 have a producing cause, otherwise you are in 
 the same difficulty as before." 
 
 "I suppose it a Being unchangeable and 
 eternal, itself unproduced, and producing all 
 things." 
 
 " Unchangeable it may be, eternal it must 
 be since every thing is eternal." 
 
 " Every thing eternal 1 " 
 
 "Yes; that is, the elements composing all 
 substances are, so far as we know and can 
 reason, eternal, and in their nature unchangea- 
 ble ; and it is apparently only the different dis- 
 position of these eternal and unchangeable 
 8*
 
 178 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 atoms that produces all the varieties in the 
 substances constituting the great, material 
 whole, of which we form a part. Those par- 
 ticles, whose peculiar agglomeration or ar- 
 rangement, we call a vegetable to-day, poss 
 into, and form part of, an animal to-morrow ; 
 and that animal again, by the falling asunder 
 of its constituent atoms, and the different ap- 
 proximation and agglomeration of the same, 
 or, of the same with other atoms, h trans- 
 formed into some other substance presenting a 
 new assemblage of qualifies. To this simple 
 exposition of the phenomena of nature (which, 
 you will observe, is not explaining their won- 
 ders, for that is impossible, but only observit -g 
 them,) we are led by the exercise of our sea- 
 ses. In studying the existences which sur- 
 round us, it is clearly our business to rise orir 
 eyes, and not our imaginations. To see things 
 as they are, is all we should attempt, and is 
 all that is possible to be done. Unfortunately, 
 we can do but little even here, as our eyss 
 serve us to see but a very little way. Ert, 
 were our eyes better were they so good as to 
 enable us to observe all the arcana of matter, 
 we could never acquire any other knowledge 
 of them, than that they are as they are ; 
 and, in knowing this, that is, in seeing every 
 link in the chain of occurrences, we should
 
 A TEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 179 
 
 know all that even an omniscient being could 
 know. One astronomer traces the course of 
 the sun round the earth, another imagines that 
 of the earth round the sun. Some future im- 
 provements in science may enable us to ascer- 
 tain which conjecture is the true one. We 
 shall then have ascertained a fact, which fact 
 may lead to the discovery of other facts, and 
 so on. Until this plain and simple view of the 
 nature of all science be generally received, all 
 the advances we may make in it are compara- 
 tively as nothing. Until we occupy ourselves 
 in examining, observing, and ascertaining, and 
 not in explaining, we are idly and childishly 
 employed. With every truth we may dis- 
 cover we shall mix a thousand errors ; and, 
 for one matter of fact, we shall charge our 
 brain with a thousand fancies. To this lead- 
 ing misconception of the real, and only possi- 
 ble object of philosophical enq airy, I incline to 
 attribute all the modes and forms of human 
 superstition. The vague idea that some mys- 
 terious cause not merely precedes but produces 
 the effect we behold, occasions us to wander 
 from the real object in search of an imaginary 
 one. We see the sun rise in the east : Instead 
 of confining our curiosity to the discovery of 
 the time arid manner of its rising, and of its 
 course in the heavens, we ask also why does
 
 180 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 it rise 1 What makes it move ? The more 
 ignorant immediately conceive some Being 
 spurring it through the heavens, with fiery 
 steeds, and on wheels of gold, while the more 
 learned tell us of laws of motion, decreed by 
 an almighty fiat, and sustained by an almighty 
 will. Imagine the truth of both suppositions : 
 In the one case, we should see the application 
 of what we call physical power in the driver 
 and the steeds followed by the motion of the 
 sun, and in the other, an almighty volition fol- 
 lowed by the motion of the sun. But, in 
 either case, should we understand why the sun 
 moved? why or how its motion followed 
 what we call the impulse of the propelling 
 power, or the propelling volition? All that 
 we could then know, more than we now know, 
 would be, that the occurrence of the motion of 
 the sun was preceded by another occurrence ; 
 and if we afterwards frequently observed the 
 same sequence of occurrences, they would be- 
 come associated in our mind as necessary pre- 
 cedent and consequent as cause and effect : 
 and we might give to them the appellation of 
 law of nature, or any other appellation ; but 
 they would still constitute merely a truth 
 that is, a fact, and envelope no other mystery, 
 than that involved in every occurrence and 
 every existence."
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 181 
 
 "But, according to this doctrine," said 
 Theon, "there would be no less reason in at- 
 tributing the beautiful arrangement of the ma- 
 terial world to the motion of a horse, than to 
 the volition of an almighty mind." 
 
 " If I saw the motion of a horse followed by 
 the effect you speak of, I should believe in 
 some relation between them ; and if 1 saw it 
 follow the volition of an almighty mind the 
 same." , 
 
 " But the cause would be inadequate to the 
 effect." 
 
 ".It could not be so, if it were the cause. 
 For what constitutes the adequacy of which 
 you speak 7 Clearly only the contact, or im- 
 mediate proximity of the two occurrences. If 
 any sequence could in fact be more wonderful 
 than another, it should rather seem to be for 
 the consequent to impart grandeur to the prece- 
 dent the effect to the cause, than for the 
 cause to impart grandeur to the effect. But in 
 reality all sequences are equally wonderful. 
 That light should follow the appearance of the 
 sun, is just as wonderful, and no more so, as if 
 it were to follow the appearance of any other 
 body and did light follow the appearance of 
 a black stone it would excite astonishment sim- 
 ply because we never saw light follow such 
 an appearance before. Accustomed, as we 
 to fru' t "-}tis 'all s.\ j>;.'i' :<-:.:. niU \\.r "jo .>!>!; ui^i
 
 182 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 now are, to see light when the snn rises, our 
 wonder would be, if we did not see light when 
 he rose: but were light regularly to attend the 
 appearance of any other body, our wonder at 
 such a sequence would, after a time, cease; 
 and we should then say, as we now say, there 
 is light, because such a body has risen; and 
 imagine then, as we imagine now, that we un- 
 derstand why light is. 
 
 " In like manner all existences are equally 
 wonderful. An African lion is in himself 
 nothing more extraordinary than a Grecian 
 horse; although the whole people of Athens 
 will assemble to gaze on the lion, and exclaim, 
 how wonderful ! while no man observes the 
 horse." 
 
 KTrue but this is the wondering of ignor- 
 ance." 
 
 "I reply true again, but so is all wonder- 
 ing. If, indeed, we should consider it in this 
 and in all other cases as simply an emotion of 
 pleasurable surprise, acknowledging the pres- 
 ence of a novel object, the feeling is perfectly 
 rational ; but if it imagine any thing more in- 
 trinsically marvellous in the novel existence 
 than in the familiar one, it is then clearly the 
 idle that is, the unreasoned and unreflecting 
 marvelling of ignorance. There is but one 
 ial wonder to the thinking mind : it is the ex- 
 istence of all things ; that is, the existence of
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 183 
 
 matter. And the only rational ground of this 
 one great wonder is, that the existence of matter 
 is the last link in the chain of cause and effect, 
 at which we can arrive. You imagine yet 
 another link the existence of a power crea- 
 ting that matter. My only objections to this 
 additional link; or superadded cause, are, that 
 it is imagined, and that it leaves the wonder 
 as before ; unless, indeed, we should say that 
 it has superadded other wonders, since it sup- 
 poses a poorer, or rather, an existence possess- 
 ing a powef/bf which we never saw an ex- 
 ample.'-' 
 
 "How so? Does not even man possess a 
 species of creating power? And do you not 
 suppose, in your inert matter, that very prop- 
 erty which others attribute, with more reason 
 it appears to me, to some superior and un- 
 known existence 1 " 
 
 " By no moans. No existence, that we know 
 of, possesses creating power, in the sense you 
 suppose. Neither the existence we call a man, 
 nor any of the existences, comprised under the 
 generic names of matter, physical world, na- 
 ture, &c., possesses the power of calling into 
 being its own constituent elements, nor the 
 constituent elements of any other substance. 
 It can change one substance into another sub- 
 stance, by altering the position of its particles, 
 or intermingling them with others : but it can-
 
 184 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 not call into being, any more than it can anni- 
 hilate, those particles themselves. The hand 
 of man causes to approach particles of earth 
 and of water, and by their approximation, pro- 
 duces clay ; to which clay it gives a regular 
 form, and, by the application of lire, produces 
 the vessel we call a vase. You may say that 
 the hand of man creates the vase ; but it does 
 not create the earth, or the water, or the fire ; 
 neither has the admixture of these substances 
 added to, or subtracted from, the sum of their 
 elementary atoms. Observe, therefore, there is 
 no analogy between the power inherent in mat- 
 ter of changing its appearance and qualities, by 
 a simple change in the position of its particles, 
 and that which you attribute to some unseen 
 existence, who, by a simple volition, should 
 have called into being matter itself, with all 
 its wonderful properties. An existence posses- 
 sing such a power I have never seen ; and 
 though this says nothing against the possibili- 
 ty of such an existence, it says every thing 
 against my belief in it. And farther, the pow- 
 er which you attribute to this existence that 
 of willing every thing out of nothing, being, 
 not only what I have never seen, but that of 
 which I cannot with any distinctness con- 
 ceive it must appear to me the greatest of 
 all improbabilities." 
 -{* > *Mi:J : ci3i!*-"> tV-rrf ir. M?J ;,' : ^'i'mivJft 7^
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 185 
 
 "Our young friend," observed Metrodorus, 
 "lately made use of an expression, the error 
 involved in which, seems to be at the root of 
 his difficulty. In speaking of matter," he con- 
 tinued, turning to Theon, " yon employed the 
 epithet inert. What is your meaning ? And 
 what matter do you here designate 1 " 
 
 " All matter surely is, in itself, inert." 
 
 "All matter surely is, in itself, as it is," said 
 Metrodorus with a smile; " and that, I should 
 say, is living and active. Again, what is mat- 
 ter 7" 
 
 " All that is evident to our senses," replied 
 Theon, " and which stands opposed to mind." 
 
 "All matter then is inert which is devoid of 
 mind. What, then, do you understand by 
 mind?" 
 
 "I conceive some error in my definition," 
 said Theon, smiling. " Should I say 
 thmight you would ask if every existence 
 devoid of thought was inert, or if every exis- 
 tence, possessing life, possessed thought?" 
 
 "I should so have asked. Mind or thought 
 I consider a quality of that matter constituting 
 the existence we call a man, which quality we 
 find in a varying degree in other existences ; 
 many, perhaps all animals, possessing it. Life 
 is another quality, or combination of qualities, 
 of matter, inherent in we know not how
 
 186 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 many existences. We find it in vegetables ; 
 we might perceive it even in stones, could we 
 watch their formation, growth, and decay. 
 We may call that active principle, pervading 
 the elements of all things, which approaches 
 and separates the component particles of the 
 ever changing, and yet ever during world life. 
 Until you discover some substance, which un- 
 dergoes no change, you cannot speak of inert 
 matter : it can only be so, at least, relative- 
 ly, that is, as compared with other substan- 
 ces." 
 
 " The classing of thought and life among 
 the qualities of matter is new to me." 
 
 " What is in a substance cannot be separate 
 from it. And is not all matter a compound of 
 qualities? Hardness, extension, form, color, 
 motion, rest take away- all these, and where 
 is matter ? To conceive of mind independent 
 of matter, is as if we should conceive of color 
 independent of a substance colored : What is 
 form, if not a body of a particular shape? 
 What is thought, if not something which 
 thinks ? Destroy the substance, and you de- 
 stroy its properties ; and so equally destroy 
 the properties, and you destroy the substance. 
 To suppose the possibility of retaining the one, 
 without the other, is an evident absurdity." 
 
 " The error of conceiving a quality in th e
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 187 
 
 abstract often offended me in the Lyceum," re- 
 turned the youth, "but I never considered the 
 error as extending to mind and life, any more 
 than to vice and virtue." 
 
 "You stopped short with many others," said 
 Leontium. "It is indeed surprising how many 
 acute minds will apply a logical train of reas- 
 oning in one case, and invert the process in 
 another exactly similar." 
 J"**To return, and, if you will, to conclude 
 our discussion," said Metrodorus, "I will ob- 
 serve that no real advances can be made in 
 the philosophy of mind, without a deep scru- 
 tiny into the operations of nature, or material 
 existences. Mind being only a quality of mat- 
 ter, the study we call the philosophy of mind, 
 is necessarily only a branch of general physics, 
 or the study of a particular part of the philos- 
 ophy of matter." 
 
 " I am indebted to your patience," said the 
 youth, "and would fain intrude farther on it. 
 I will confine myself at present, however, to 
 one observation. The general view of things, 
 which you present to my mind, the simplicity 
 of which I will confess to be yet more fascina- 
 ting than its novelty, is evidently unfavorable 
 to religion, and, if so, unfavorable to vir- 
 tue." 
 
 " An opportunity will, to-day, be afforded
 
 188 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 you," said Leontium, " of examining this im- 
 portant question in detail. At the request of 
 some of our youth, the Master will himself 
 give his views on the subject." 
 
 "I am all curiosity," said Theon. "Other 
 teachers have commanded my respect, inflam- 
 ed my imagination, and, I believe, often con- 
 trolled my reason. The son of Neocles in- 
 spires me with love, and wins me to confi- 
 dence by encouraging me to exercise my own 
 judgment, in scanning his arguments, and ex- 
 amining the groundwork of his own opinions. 
 With such a teacher, and in such a school, I 
 feel suspicion to be wholly misplaced ; and I 
 shall now start in the road of enquiry, anxious 
 only to discover truth, and willing to part with 
 every erroneous opinion, the moment it shall 
 be proved to be erroneous." 
 
 NOTE, BY THE TRANSLATOR. How beautifully have 
 the modern discoveries in chymistry and natural philos- 
 ophy, and the metre accurate analysis of the human 
 mind sciences unknown to the ancient world sub- 
 stantiated the leading principles of the Epicurean ethics 
 and physics the only ancient school of either, really 
 deserving the name ! 
 
 To what have all our ingenious inventions and con- 
 trivances, for the analysis of material substances, led us, 
 but to the atoms of Epicurus ? To what, our accurate 
 observation of the decomposition of substances, and the 
 arresting and weighing of their most subtle and invisible 
 elements, but to the eternal and unchangeable nature of 
 those atoms ? We have, in the course of our scrutiny,
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 189 
 
 superadded to the wonderful qualities of matter with 
 which he was acquainted, those which we call attrac- 
 tion, repulsion, electricity, magnetism, &c. How do 
 these discoveries multiply and magnify the living pow- 
 ers inherent in the simple elements of all existences, 
 and point our admiration to the sagacity of that intellect 
 which, 2,000 years ago, started in the true road of en- 
 quiry ; while, at this day, thousands of teachers and 
 millions of scholars are stumbling in the paths of error ! 
 
 If we look to our mental philosophy, to what has 
 our scrutiny led, but to the leading principles of Epicu- 
 rean ethics ? In the pleasure, utility, propriety of 
 human action (whatever word we employ, the mean- 
 ing is the same) in the consequences of human ac- , 
 tions, that is ; in their tendency to promote our good or 
 our evil, we must ever find the only test of their intrin- 
 sic merit or demerit. 
 
 It might seem strange that, while the truth of the 
 leading principles of the Epicurean philosophy have 
 been long admitted by all sound reasoners, the abuse of 
 the school and of its founder is continued to this day : 
 this might and would seem strange and incomprehensi- 
 ble, did we not, on every subject, find the same cow- 
 ardly fear of facing, openly and honestly, the prejudices 
 of men. Teachers, aware of the ignorance of those 
 they teach, develope their doctrines in language intelli- 
 gible only to the few ; or, where they hazard a more 
 distinct exposition of truth, shelter themselves from ob- 
 loquy, by echoing the vulgar censure against those who 
 have taught the same truth, with more explicitness, be- 
 fore them. The mass, even of what is called the edu- 
 cated world, know nothing of the principles they decry, 
 or of the characters they abuse. It is easy, therefore, 
 by joining in the abuse against the one, to encourage a 
 belief that we cannot be advocating the other. This 
 desire of standing fair with the wise, without incurring 
 the enmity of the ignorant, may suit with the object of 
 those who acquire knowledge only for its display, or for 
 the gratification of mere curiosity. But they, whose no- 
 bler aim, and higher gift it is, to advance the human 
 mind in the discovery of truth, must stand proof equally
 
 190 1. FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 to censure and to praise. That such lips and such pens 
 should employ equivocation, or other artifice, to turn 
 aside the wrath of ignorance, is degrading to themselves 
 and mortifying to their admirers. The late amiable and 
 enlightened teacher, Thomas Brown, of Edinburgh, 
 whose masterly exposition of old and new truths, ana 
 exposure of modern as well as ancient errors, has so 
 advanced the science he professed, is yet chargeable 
 with this weakness. Alter inculcating the leading prin- 
 ciples, the whole of his beautiful system, he conde- 
 scends to soothe the prejudices which all his arguments 
 have tended to uproot, by passing a sweeping censure 
 on the school, whose doctrines he has borrowed and 
 taught. We might say how unworthy of such a 
 mind ! But we will rather say how is it to be lament- 
 ed that such a mind bears not within itself the convic- 
 tion, that all truths are important to all men ; and that to 
 employ deception with the ignorant, is to defeat our own 
 purpose which is, surely, not to open the eyes of those 
 who already see, but to enlighten the blind !
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 191 
 
 0*1 UtJ Jon SV7 Ji 
 
 -au er 
 
 skhjsm 9 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 iihiun on.. rTTue^j ,-iiiJ vJ j;nv.'ol 
 
 A MORE than usual crowd attended the in- 
 structions of the Sage. The gay, and the cu- 
 rious, the learned, and the idle, of all ages, and 
 of either sex, from the restless population of 
 the city ; many citizens of note, collected from 
 various parts of Attica ; and no inconsiderable 
 portion of strangers from foreign states and 
 countries. 
 
 They were assembled on the lawn, sur- 
 rounding the temple already frequently men- 
 tioned. The contracting waters of Ilyssus 
 flowed nearly in their accustomed bed ; and 
 earth and air, refreshed by the storm of the 
 preceding night, resisted the rays of the un- 
 curtained sun, now climbing high in the hea- 
 vens. A crowd of recollections rushed on the 
 young mind of Theon, as he entered the beau- 
 tiful enclosure, and gazed on the stream which 
 formed one of its boundaries. His thoughts 
 again played truant to philosophy, and his 
 rapid glance sought another and a fairer form 
 than any it found there, when the approach of 
 Epicurus divided the throng, and hushed the 
 loud murmur of tongues into silence. The
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 Sage passed on, and it was not till he ascended 
 t he marble steps, and turned to address the as- 
 sembly, that Theon perceived he had been fol- 
 lowed by the beautiful being who ruled his 
 fancy. The hues of Hebe now dyed her lips 
 and her cheeks ; but the laughing smiles of the 
 preceding evening were changed for the com- 
 posure of respectful attention. Her eye caught 
 that of Theon. She gave a blush and a smile 
 .of recognition. Then, seating herself at the 
 base of a column to the right of her father, her 
 face resumed its composure, and her full dark 
 eyes fastened on the countenance of the Sage, 
 a gaze of mingled admiration and filial 
 
 "Fellow citizens, and fellow jnen! We 
 purpose, this day, to examine a question of 
 vital importance to human kind : no less a one 
 than the relations we bear to all the existences 
 that surround us; the position we hold in 
 ^Jtins beautiful material world ; the origin, 
 .the object, and the end of our being; the 
 source from which we proceed, and the goal 
 to which we tend. This question embraces 
 many. It embraces all most interesting to our 
 curiosity, and influential over our happiness. 
 Its correct or incorrect solution must ever regu- 
 late, as it now regulates, our rule of conduct, 
 our conceptions of right and wrong ; .must start
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. J-93 
 
 us in the road of true or false enquiry, and 
 either open our minds to such a knowledge of 
 the wonders working in and around us, as our 
 senses and faculties can attain, or close them 
 forever with the bands of superstition, leaving 
 us a prey to fear, the slaves of our ungoverned 
 imaginations, wondering and trembling at 
 every occurrence in nature, and making our 
 own existence and destiny sources of dread and 
 of mystery." 
 
 " Ere we come to this important enquiry, it 
 behooves us to see that we come with willing 
 minds ; that we say not, ( so far will we go 
 and no farther ; we will make one step, but 
 not two ; we will examine, but only so long as 
 the result of our examination shall confirm our 
 preconceived opinions.' In our search after 
 truth, we must equally discard presumption 
 and fear. We must come with our eyes and 
 our ears, our hearts and our understandings, 
 open ; anxious, not to find ourselves right, but 
 to discover what is right ; asserting nothing 
 which we cannot prove; believing nothing 
 which we have not examined ; and examin- 
 ing all things fearlessly, dispassionately, per- 
 severingly." 
 
 ",tn our preceding discourses, and, for such 
 as have not attended these, in our writings, we 
 have endeavored to explain the real object of 
 
 ' i '" f*OCJn0O J\
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 philosophical enquiry ; we have directed you 
 to the investigation of nature, to all that you 
 see of existences and occurrences around you ; 
 and we have shown that, in these existences, 
 and occurrences, all that can be known, and 
 all that there is to be known, lies hid. We 
 have exhorted you to use your eyes, and your 
 judgments, never your imagination ; to abstain 
 from theory, and rest with facts ; and to under- 
 stand that in the accumulation of facts, as re- 
 gards the nature and properties of substances, 
 the order of occurrences, and the consequences 
 of actions, lies the whole science of philos- 
 ophy, physical and moral. We have seen, in 
 the course of our enquiry, that in matter itself, 
 exist all causes and effects ; that the eternal 
 particles, composing all substances, from the 
 first and last links in the chain of occurrences, 
 or of cause and effect, at which we can arrive ; 
 that the qualities, inherent in these particles, 
 produce, or are followed by certain effects ; that 
 the changes, in position, of these particles, pro- 
 duce or are followed by certain other qualities 
 and effects; that the sun appears, and that 
 light follows his appearance ; that we throw a 
 pearl into vinegar, and that the pearl vanishes 
 from our eyes, to assume the form or forms of 
 more subtle, but not less real substances ; that 
 the component particles of a human being fall
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. ' 195 
 
 asunder, and that, instead of a man, we find a 
 variety of other substances or existences, pre- 
 senting new appearances, and new properties 
 or powers ; that a burning coal touches our 
 hand, that the sensation of pain follows the 
 contact, that the desire to end this sensation is 
 the next effect in succession, and that the mus- 
 cular motion of withdrawing the hand, follow- 
 ing the desire, is another. That in all this 
 succession of existences and events, there is 
 nothing but what we see, or what we could 
 see, if we had better eyes; that there is no 
 mystery in nature, but that involved in the 
 very existence of all things ; and that things 
 being as they are, is no more wonderful, than 
 it would be, if they were different. That an 
 analogous course of events, or chain of causes 
 and effects, takes place in morals as in phys- 
 ics : that is to say, in examining those quali- 
 ties, of the matter composing our own bodies, 
 which we call mind, we can only trace a train 
 of occurrences, in like manner as we do in the 
 external world ; that our sensations, thoughts, 
 and emotions, are simply effects following cau- 
 ses, a series of consecutive phenomena, mutu- 
 ally producing and produced." 
 
 " When we have taken this view of things, 
 observe how all abstruse questions disappear ; 
 how all science is simplified ; all knowledge
 
 196 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 rendered easy and familiar to the mind ! Once 
 started in this only true road of enquiry, every 
 step we make is one in advance. To what- 
 ever science we apply, that is. to whatever 
 part of matter, or to whichever of its qualities, 
 we direct our attention, we shall, in all proba- 
 bility, make important, because true, discove- 
 ries. Is it the philosophy of nature in general, 
 or any one of those subdivisions of it, which 
 we call the philosophy of Mind, Ethics, Med- 
 icine, Astronomy, Geometry, &c., the moment 
 we occupy ourselves in observing and arrang- 
 ing in order the facts, which are discovered in 
 the course of observation, we acquire positive 
 knowledge, and may safely undertake to de- 
 y elope ijt to others." 
 
 " The ascertaining the nature of existences, 
 the order of occurrences, and the consequences 
 of human actions constituting, therefore, the 
 whole of knowledge, what is there to prevent 
 each and all of us from extending our discove- 
 ries to the full limits prescribed by the nature 
 of our faculties and duration of our existence? 
 What noble employment can we invent? what 
 pleasure so pure, so little liable to disappoint- 
 ment? What is there to hold us back? 
 What is there not to spur us forward ? Does 
 our ignorance start from the very simplicity of 
 knowledge ? Do we fear to open our eyes lest
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS, 
 
 we should see the light ? Does the very truth 
 we seek alarm us in its attainment 1 How is 
 it that, placed in this world as on a theatre of 
 observation, surrounded by wonders and en- 
 dowed with faculties wherewith to scan these 
 wonders, we know so little of what is, and 
 imagine so much of what is not 1 Other ani- 
 mals, to whom man accounts himself superior, 
 exercise the faculties they possess, trust their 
 testimony, follow the impulses of their nature, 
 and enjoy the happiness of which they are ca- 
 pable. Man alone, the most gifted of all 
 known existences, doubts the evidence of his 
 superior senses, perverts the nature and uses of 
 his multiplied faculties, controls his most inno- 
 cent, as well as his noblest impulses, and turns 
 to poison all the sources of his happiness. To 
 what are we to trace this fatal error, this cruel 
 self-martyrdom, this perversion of things from 
 their natural bent 1 In the over-development 
 of one faculty and neglect of another, we must 
 seek the cause. In the imagination, that 
 source of our most beautiful pleasures, when 
 under the control of judgment, we find the 
 source of our worst afflictions." 
 
 " From an early age I have made the nature 
 and condition of man my study. I have found 
 him in many countries of the earth, under the 
 influence of all varieties of climate and circum-
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 stance ; I have found him the savage lord of 
 the forest, clothed in the rough skins of animals 
 less rude than himself, sheltered in the crevices 
 of the mountains and caves of the earth from 
 the blasts of winter and heats of the summer 
 sun ; I have found him the slave of masters de- 
 based as himself, crouching to the foot that 
 spurns him, and showing no signs of miscalled 
 civilization but its sloth and its sensualities ; I 
 have found him the lord over millions, clothed 
 in purple and treading courts of marble ; the 
 cruel destroyer of his species, marching 
 through blood and rapine, to thrones of ex- 
 tended dominion; the iron-hearted tyrant, 
 feasting on the agonies of his victims, and 
 wringing his treasure from the hard earned 
 mite of industry ; I have found him the harm- 
 less but ignorant tiller of the soil, eating 
 the simple fruits of his labor, sinking to rest 
 only to rise again to toil, toiling to live and 
 living only to die ; I have found him the pol- 
 ished courtier, the accomplished scholar, the 
 gifted artist, the creating genius ; the fool and 
 the knave ; rich and a beggar ; spurning arid 
 spurned. 
 
 " Under all these forms and varieties of the 
 external and internal man, still, with hardly 
 an exception, I have found him unhappy. 
 With more capacity for enjoyment than any
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 199 
 
 other creature, I have seen him surpassing the 
 rest of existences only in suffering and crime. 
 Why is this and from whence 1 What master 
 error, for some there must be, leads to results 
 so fatal so opposed to the apparent nature 
 and promise of things ? Long have I sought 
 this error this main-spring of human folly 
 and human crime. I have traced, through all 
 their lengthened train of consequents and cau- 
 ses, human practice and human theory ; I 
 have threaded the labyrinth to its dark begin- 
 ing ; 1 have found the first link in the chain of 
 evil; I have found it in all countries 
 among all tribes and tongues and nations ; I 
 have found it, Fellow-men, I have found it 
 in RELIGION! " 
 
 A low murmur here rose from one part of 
 the assembly. A deep and breathless silence 
 succeeded. The Sage turned his gaze slowly 
 around, and with a countenance, pure and 
 serene as the skies which shone above him, 
 proceeded : 
 
 " We have named the leading error of the 
 human mind, the bane of human happi- 
 ness the perverter of human virtue ! It is 
 Religion that dark coinage of trembling ig- 
 norance! It is Religion that poisoner of 
 human felicity ! It is Religion that blind 
 guide of human reason ! It is Religion that
 
 200 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 dethroner of human virtue ! which lies at the 
 root of all the evil and all the misery that per- 
 vade the world ! 
 
 " Not hastily formed, still less hastily ex- 
 pressed, has been the opinion you hear this 
 day. A long train of reflection led to the dis- 
 carding of religion as an error, a life of obser- 
 vation to the denouncing it as an evil. In 
 considering it as devoid of truth, I am but one 
 of many. Few have looked deeply and stead- 
 ily into the nature of things, and not called in 
 question belief in existences unseen and causes 
 unknown. But while smiling at the credulity 
 6f their fellow-beings, philosophers have 
 thought reason good only for themselves. 
 They have argued that religion, however 
 childish a chimera in itself, was useful in its 
 tendencies: that, if it rested upon nothing, it 
 supported all things ; that it was the stay of 
 virtue, and the source of happiness. However 
 opposed to every rule in philosophy, physical 
 and moral ; however apparently in contradic- 
 tion to reason and common sense, that a thing 
 untrue could be useful ; that a belief in facts 
 disproved or unproved could afford a sustain- 
 ing prop to a just rule of practice ; the asser- 
 tion came supported by so universal a testi- 
 mony of mankind, and by individual names 
 of such authority in practical wisdom and vir-
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 tue, that I hesitated to call it mistaken. And 
 as human happiness appeared to me the great 
 desideratum, and its promotion the only object 
 consistent with the views of a teacher of men, 
 I forbore from all expression of opinion, until I 
 had fully substantiated, to my own conviction, 
 both its truth and its tendency. The truth of 
 my opinion is substantiated, as we have seen, 
 by an examination into the nature of things ; 
 that is, into the properties of matter, which 
 are alone sufficient to produce all the chances 
 and changes that we behold. Its tendency is 
 discovered by an examination into the moral 
 condi tion of man. 
 
 " The belief in supernatural existences, and 
 expectation of a future life, are said to be 
 sources of happiness, and stimuli to virtue. 
 How, and in what way ? Is it proved by ex- 
 perience ? Look abroad over the earth : every 
 where the song of praise, the prayer of suppli- 
 cation, the smoke of incense, the blow of sac- 
 rifice, arise from forest, and lawn, from cot- 
 tage, palace, and temple, to the gods of human 
 idolatry. Religion is spread over the earth. 
 If she be the parent of virtue and happiness, 
 they too should cover the earth. Do they so 1 
 Read the annals of human tradition ! Go 
 forth and observe the actions of men ! Who 
 shall speak of virtue who of happiness, that 
 
 9*
 
 202 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 hath eyes to see and ears to hear and hearts to 
 feel ? No ! experience is against the assertion. 
 The world is full of religion, and full of misery 
 and crime. 
 
 " Can the assertion be sustained by argu- 
 ment, by any train of reasoning whatsoever ? 
 Imagine a Deity under any fashion of exist- 
 ence ; how are our dreams concerning him in 
 an imaginary heaven to affect our happiness or 
 our conduct on a tangible earth ? Affect it in- 
 deed they may for evil, but how for good ? 
 The idea of an unseen Being, ever at work 
 around and about us, may afflict the human 
 intellect with idle terrors, but can never guide 
 the human practice to what is rational and 
 consistent with our nature. Grant that, by 
 any possibility, we could ascertain the exist- 
 ence of one god, or of a million of gods : we 
 see them not, we hear them not, we feel them 
 not. Unless they were submitted to our obser- 
 vation, were fashioned like unto us, had simi- 
 lar desires, similar faculties, a similar organi- 
 zation, how could their mode of existence 
 afford a guide for ours ? As well should the 
 butterfly take pattern from the lion, or the lion 
 from the eagle, as man from a god. To say 
 nothing of the inconsistency of the attributes, 
 with which all gods are decked, it is enough 
 that none of them are ours. We are men ;
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 203 
 
 they are gods. They inhabit other worlds ; 
 we inhabit the earth. Let them enjoy their 
 felicity ; and let us, my friends, seek ours. 
 
 " But it is not that religion is merely useless, 
 it is mischievous. It is mischievous by its idle 
 terrors ; it is mischievous by its false morality ; 
 it is mischievous by its hypocrisy ; by its fa- 
 naticism ; by its dogmatism ; by its threats ; 
 by its hopes; by its promises. Consider it 
 under its mildest and most amiable form, it is 
 still mischievous as inspiring false motives of 
 action, as holding the human mind in bond- 
 age, and diverting the attention from things 
 useful, to things useless. '' The essence of reli- 
 gion is fear, as its source is ignorance. In a 
 certain stage of human knowledge, the human 
 mind must of necessity, in its ignorance of the 
 properties of matter, and its dark insight into 
 the chain of phenomena arising out of those 
 properties must of necessity reason falsely 
 on every occurrence and existence in nature ; 
 it must of necessity, in the absence of fact, 
 give the rein to fancy, see a miracle in every 
 uncommon event, and imagine unseen agents 
 as producing all that it beholds. In propor- 
 tion as the range of our observation is enlarg- 
 ed, and as we learn to connect and arrange 
 the phenomena of nature, we curtail our list of 
 miracles, the number of our supernatural
 
 204 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 agents. An eclipse is alarming to the vulgar, 
 as denoting the wrath of offended deities ; to 
 the man of science it is a simple occurrence, as 
 easily traced to its cause, as any the most fa- 
 miliar to our observation. The knowledge of 
 one generation is the ignorance of the next. 
 Our superstitions decrease as our attainments 
 multiply ; and the fervor of our religion de- 
 clines as we draw nearer to the conclusion 
 which destroys it entirely. The conclusion, 
 based upon accumulated facts, as we have 
 seen, that matter alone is at once the thing 
 acting, and the thing acted upon, eternal in 
 duration, infinitely various and varying in ap- 
 pearance; never diminishing in quantity, and 
 always changing in fopn. Without some 
 knowledge of what is styled natural philoso- 
 phy, or physics, no individual can attain this 
 conclusion. And in a certain stage of that 
 knowledge, more or less advanced according to 
 the acuteness of the intellect, it will be impos- 
 sible for any individual, not mentally obtuse, 
 to shun that conclusion. This truth is one of 
 infinite importance. The moment we consid- 
 er the hostility directed against what is called 
 Atheism, as the natural result of deficient in- 
 formation, the mind must be diseased which 
 could resent that hostility. And perhaps a 
 simple statement of the truth would best lead
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 205 
 
 to examination of the subject, and to the con- 
 version of mankind. 
 
 " Imagine this conversion, my friends ! Im- 
 agine the creature man in the full exercise of 
 all his faculties ; not shrinking from knowl- 
 edge, but eager in its pursuit ; not bending the 
 knee of adulation to visionary beings armed 
 by fear for his destruction, but standing erect 
 in calm contemplation of the beautiful face of 
 nature ; discarding prejudice, and admitting 
 truth without fear of consequences ; acknowl- 
 edging no judge but reason, no censor but that 
 in his own breast! Thus considered, he is 
 transformed into the god of his present idola- 
 try, or rather into a far nobler being, possessing 
 all the attributes consistent with virtue and 
 reason, and none opposed to either. How 
 great a contrast with his actual state ! His 
 best faculties dormant ; his judgment unawak- 
 ened within him; his very senses misem- 
 ployed ; all his energies misdirected ; trem- 
 bling before the coinage of his own idle fancy ; 
 seeing over all creation a hand of tyranny ex- 
 tended ; and instead of following virtue, wor- 
 shipping power ! Monstrous creation of ignor- 
 ance ! monstrous degradation of the noblest of 
 known existences ! Man, boasting of superior 
 reason, of moral discrimination, imagines a 
 being at once unjust, cruel, and inconsistent ;
 
 206 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 then kissing the dust, calls himself its slave ! 
 ' This world is,' says the Theist, ' therefore it 
 was made ' By whom ? ' By a being more 
 powerful than I.' Grant this infantine reason- 
 ing, what follows as the conclusion ? ' That 
 we must fear him,' says the Theist. And 
 why ? Is his power directed against our hap- 
 piness? Does your god amuse himself by 
 awakening the terrors of more helpless beings? 
 Fear him then indeed we may ; and, let our 
 conduct be what it will, fear him we must. 
 1 He is good as well as powerful,' says the 
 Theist ; ' therefore the object of love.' How 
 do we ascertain his goodness ? I see indeed a 
 beautiful and curious world ; but I see it full 
 of moral evils, and presenting many physical 
 imperfections. Is he all-powerful? perfect 
 good or perfect evil might exist. Is he all- 
 powerful and all-good? perfect good must 
 exist. Of the sentient beings comprised in the 
 infinity of matter I know but those which I 
 behold. I set no limits to the number of those 
 which I behold not ; no bounds to their power. 
 One or many, may have given directions to 
 the elementary atoms, and may have fashioned 
 this earth as the potter fashions its clay. 
 Beings possessing such power may exist, and 
 may have exercised it. .^-powerful still they 
 are not, or being so, they are wicked : evil ex-
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 207 
 
 ists. I know not what may be but this my 
 moral sense tells me CANNOT be a fashioner 
 of the world I inhabit, in his nature all-good 
 and all-powerful. I see yet another impossi- 
 bility ; a fashioner of this world in his nature 
 all good and fore- knowing. Granting the 
 possibility of the attributes, their united exist- 
 ence were an impossible supposition in the 
 architect of our earth.' 
 
 ' Let us accord his goodness, the most pleas- 
 ing and valuable attribute. Your god is then 
 the object of our love, and of our pity. X)f 
 our love, because being benevolent in his own 
 nature, he must have intended to produce hap- 
 piness in forming ours ; of our pity, because 
 we see that he has failed in his intention. I 
 cannot conceive a condition more unfortunate 
 than that of a deity contemplating this world 
 of his creation. Is he the author of some 
 say, of much happiness ? of what untold mis- 
 ery is he equally the author ? 1 cannot con- 
 ceive a being more desperately more hope- 
 lessly wretched than that we have now pictur- 
 ed. The worst of human miseries shrink into 
 comparative insignificancy before those of their 
 author. How must every sigh drawn from the 
 bosom of man rend the heart of his god ! 
 How must every violence committed on earth 
 convulse the peace of heaven ! unable to alter
 
 208 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 what he had fashioned, how must he equally 
 curse his power and his impotence ! And, in 
 bewailing our existence, how must he burn to 
 annihilate his own ! 
 
 "We will now suppose his power without 
 limit ; and his knowledge extending to the fu- 
 ture, as to the past. How monstrous the con- 
 ception ! What demon drawn from the fe- 
 vered brain of insanity, ever surpassed this 
 deity in malignity ! Able to make perfection, 
 he hath sown through all nature the seed of 
 evil. The lion pursues the lamb ; the vulture, 
 in his rage, tears the dove from her nest. 
 Man, the universal enemy, triumphs even in 
 the sufferings of his fellow-beings; in their 
 pain finds his own joy ; in their loss, his gain ; 
 in the frenzy of his violence, working out his 
 own destruction ; in the folly of his ignorance 
 cursing his own race, and blessing its cruel 
 author ! Your deity is the author of evil, and 
 you call him good; the inventor of misery, 
 and you call him happy ! What virtuous 
 mind shall yield homage to such ar Being 1 
 Who shall say, that homage, if rendered, de- 
 grades not the worshipper ? Or, who shall say, 
 that homage, when rendered, shall pacify the 
 idol? Will abjectness in the slave ensure 
 mercy in the tyrant? Or, if it should, my 
 friends, which of us would be the abject ? Are
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 209 
 
 men found bold to resist earthly oppression, 
 and shall they bow before injustice, because 
 she speak from Heaven 7 Does the name of 
 Harmodius inspire our songs 1 Do crowns of 
 laurel bind the temples of Aristogition? Let 
 our courage rise higher than theirs, my friends ; 
 and, if worthy of ambition, our fame ! De- 
 throne, not the tyrant of Athens, but the tyrant 
 of the earth ! not the oppressor of Athenians, 
 but the oppressor of mankind ! Stand forth f 
 Stand erect ! Say to this god, ' if you made 
 us in malice, we will not worship you in fear. 
 We will judge of you by your works : and 
 judge your works with our reason. If evil 
 pervade them, you are chargeable with it, as 
 their author. We care not to conciliate your 
 injustice, any more than to strive with your 
 power. We judge of the future from the past. 
 And as you have disposed of us in this world, 
 so, if it please you to continue our being, must 
 you dispose of us in another. It would be 
 idle to strive with Omnipotence, or to provide 
 against the decrees of Omniscience. We will 
 not torment ourselves by imagining your inten- 
 tions ; nor debase ourselves by expostulations. 
 Should you punish, in us, the evil you have 
 made, you will punish it as unjustly as you 
 made it maliciously. Should you reward in
 
 210 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 us the good, you will reward it absurdly, as it 
 was equally your work, and not ours.' 
 
 "Let us now concede in argument the union 
 of all the enumerated attributes. Let us ac- 
 cord the existence of a being perfect in good- 
 ness, wisdom, and power, who shall have 
 made all things by his volition, and decreed all 
 occurrences in his wisdom. Such a being 
 must command our admiration and approval : 
 he can command no more. As he is good and 
 wise, he is superior to all praise ; as he is great 
 and happy, he is independent of all praise. 
 As he is the author of our happiness, he has 
 ensured our love ; but as he is our creator, he 
 may command from us no duties. Supposing 
 a god, all duties rest with him. If he has 
 made us, he is bound to make us happy ; and 
 failing in the duty, he must be an object of 
 just abhorrence to all his sentient creation. 
 Kindness received must necessarily inspire 
 affection. This kindness, in a divine creator, 
 as in an earthly parent, is a solemn duty, a 
 sacred obligation, the non- performance of 
 which were the most atrocious of crimes. 
 When performed, love from the creature, as 
 from the child, is a necessary consequence, and 
 an all-sufficient reward. 
 
 " Allowing then to the Theist his god, we 
 stand to him in no relation that can inspire
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. ,] 211 
 
 fear, or involve duty. He can give us no hap- 
 piness that he was not bound to bestow : he 
 can cherish us with no tenderness, that he was 
 not bound to yield. It is for him to gratify all 
 our desires, or, if they be erroneous, to cor- 
 rect them. It is for us to demand every good 
 in his power to grant, or in ours to enjoy. Let 
 then, the theologist banish fear and duty from 
 his creed. It is love love alone that can be 
 claimed by gods or yielded by men. 
 
 " Have we said enough? Surely the absur- 
 dity of all the doctrines of religion, and the 
 iniquity of many, are sufficiently evident. To 
 fear a being on account of his powjsr, is degrad- 
 ing; to fear him if he be good, ridiculous. 
 Prove to us his existence ; and prove to us his 
 perfections ; prove to us his parental care ; 
 love springs up in our bosoms, and repays his 
 bounty. If he care not to show us his exist- 
 ence, he desires not the payment of our love, 
 and finds in the contemplation of his own 
 works, their reward. 
 
 "But, says the Theist, his existence is evi- 
 dent and, not to acknowledge it, a crime. 
 It is not so to me, my friends. I see no suffi- 
 cient evidence of his existence ; and to reason 
 of its possibility, I hold to be an idle specula- 
 tion. To doubt that which is evident is not in 
 our power. To believe that which is not evi-
 
 21.2 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 
 
 dent, is equally impossible to us. Theist ! 
 thou makest of thy god a being more weak, 
 more silly than thyself. He punisheth as a 
 crime the doubt of his existence ! ,Why, then, 
 let him declare his existence, and we doubt no 
 more. Should the wandering tribes of Scythia 
 doubt the existence of Epicurus, should Epi- 
 curus be angry ? What vanity what absur- 
 dity what silliness, oh ! Theist ! do ye not 
 suppose in your god ! Let him exist, this god, 
 in all the perfection of a poet's imagery ; I lift 
 to him a forehead assured and serene. ' I see 
 thee, oh ! God ! in thy poxver, and admire 
 thee : I see thee in thy goodness, and approve 
 thee. Such homage only is worthy of thee to 
 receive, and of me to render.' And what does 
 he reply ? ' Thou art right, creature of my 
 fashioning ! Thou canst not add nor take 
 away from the sum of my felicity. I made 
 thee to enjoy thy own, not to wonder at mine. 
 I have placed thee amid objects of desire, I 
 have given thee means of enjoyment. Enjoy, 
 then ! Be happy ! It was for that I made 
 thee." 
 
 " Harken, then, my children! harken to 
 your teacher ! Let it be a god or a philosopher 
 who speaks, the injunction is the same : En- 
 joy, and be happy ! Is life short 1 It is an 
 evil : But render life happy, its shortness is
 
 A FEW DAYS IN ATHENS. 213 
 
 the only evil. I call to you, as, if he exist, 
 God must call to you from heaven : Enjoy, 
 and be happy ! Do you doubt the way ? Let 
 Epicurus be your guide. The source of every 
 enjoyment is within yourselves. Good and 
 evil lie before you. The good is all which 
 can yield you pleasure : the evil what must 
 bring you pain. Here is no paradox, no dark, 
 saying, no moral hid in fables. 
 
 " We have considered the unsound fabric of 
 religion. It remains to consider that, equally 
 unsound, of morals. The virtue of man is 
 false as his faith. What folly invented, 
 knavery supports. Let us arise in our 
 strength, examine, judge, and be free ! " 
 
 The teacher here paused. The crowd stood, 
 as if yet listening. " At a convenient season, 
 my children, we will examine farther into f he 
 nature of man and the science of life." 
 
 THE END.
 
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