“No, Cleon, for you are idolaters. Socrates and his friends do not believe in your gods, and that will be counted to them for righteousness. Yes, Socrates appeared to me rather to worship the Eternal and Invisible, whom we dare not name. Therefore I do not give evidence against him.” “Is _that_ the side you are on? Then go in peace, but beware! Go!” “The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob will protect me, so long as I and my house keep His laws.” Cleon had espied his friend and fellow-artisan in the colonnade, and therefore let the inflexible Hebrew go. The latter hastened towards the sycamore avenue of the oil-market, and disappeared there. Anytos the tanner and politician approached, rehearsing a written speech which he was intending to deliver: “Athens or Sparta,--that is the whole question at issue....” Cleon, full of curiosity, interrupted him: “What are you rehearsing, Anytos?” “A speech.” “So I heard! Athens or Sparta! Government by the people, or government by donkeys. The people, the weightiest element in the State, the cultivators of the land, the producers of wealth, lie at the bottom like gold. The worthless, the drones, the rich, the aristocratic, the most frivolous, swim on the surface like chips and corks. Athens has always represented government by the people, and will always do so; Sparta represents the donkey-government. “The oligarchy, you mean, Cleon.” “No; donkeys. Therefore, Anytos, Athens is badly governed, for Pericles the rich man, who boasts of royal ancestors, has come to power. How can he sympathise with these people, since he has never been down there below? How can he see them rightly from above? He sits on the gable-roof of the Parthenon, and views the Athenians as ants, while they are lions, with their claws pared and their teeth drawn. We, Anytos, born down there amid the skins of the tanyard and dog’s-dung, we understand our perspiring brothers--we know them by the smell, so to speak. But like readily associates with like; therefore Sparta feels attracted to Athens, to Pericles and his followers. Pericles draws Sparta to himself, and we sink....” Anytos, himself an orator, did not like to hear eloquence from others, therefore he cut abruptly through Cleon’s speech. “Pericles is ill.” “Is he ill?” “Yes, he has fever!” “Really? Perhaps the plague.” “Perhaps.” This interjected remark of Anytos had crossed Cleon’s prolix discourse, and a new hope glimmered before him. “And after Pericles?” he said. “Cleon, of course.” “Why not? The man of the people for the people, but no philosophers nor actors. So, Pericles is sick, is he? Listen, Anytos? Who is Nicias?” “He is a grandee who believes in oracles.” “Don’t attack the oracles. I certainly do not believe in them, but a State requires for its stability a certain uniformity in everything--laws, customs, and religion. Therefore I support the gods of the State--and what belongs to them.”