Read The Mask of Apollo for Free Online Page B

Dionysios’ young kinsman fell in love with and brought to Syracuse, hoping, poor lad, to change the tyrant into a second Solon—how touching young love is! When the poor professor opened his mouth too wide, wasn’t he not only chased out of Syracuse, but put on a ship for Aigina when they’d just passed sentence of slavery on any Athenian landing there? And his learned friends had to bid for him at market. I forget his name.”
    “Plato,” said Anaxis, breathing slowly to keep his temper. “Everyone agrees he is a stiff-necked man, who missed his chance for fear of being called a sycophant. He was asked to a party, but wouldn’t wear fancy dress; he wouldn’t dance—”
    “Can he?”
    “Nor, when he discoursed, would he avoid political theory—
    “What was he asked to discourse on?”
    “Virtue, I suppose. What does it matter? All I am asking is that you keep your eyes open at Delphi, and look what you are doing. Opportunity only knocks once.”
    “Well,” I said, “if Dionysios is as rich as people say, no doubt he can stand his envoy a theater seat. It only costs two obols.”
    “Niko, dear boy, you know I think the world of you.” He was trying hard. “You have a gift; audiences like you; but never think you can’t end where he is now”—he looked back at Krantor, who had slid off his mule to piss—“if you take no trouble to get known by people of influence. That boy in Corinth! A charming creature for a night, but to spend your days with him! And that party you said you were too tired to go to—do you know Chrysippos owns the biggest racing stables in the Isthmus? Everyone was there. Yet you were not too tired to go round the wineshops with Krantor.”
    “Krantor knows the best. Everyone was there; why didn’t you come too?”
    “In a city like Corinth, an artist of your standing should not be seen drinking with a third-part actor. I assure you, such things are not understood at all.”
    “Thanks for the compliment, my dear. But if I’m too good for that, then by Apollo I’m too good to play in third-rate fustian, even if the Tyrant of Syracuse writes it and puts it on. Let him hire Theophanes, and put him in purple boots; they deserve each other.”
    I could see Anaxis holding himself in, remembering, as I ought to have been doing, how quarrels ruin a tour. Men can’t get away from each other long enough to cool off; I have known it to end in blood.
    “Very well, Niko. But an artist should know whether it is art he is talking about, or politics. In this case, I doubt you do.”
    “Look!” I said, pointing upward. “That must be the Temple of Apollo.” I had had politics enough.
    “Of course. The theater is just behind it. Tell me, Niko, have you yourself seen one of Dionysios’ plays performed?”
    “Not I. I’ve never set foot in Syracuse.”
    “His Ajax won second prize at the Dionysia, in Athens, some years ago.”
    “ Ajax? Was that his?” It had been put on of course by an Athenian choregos, acting for him, and one gets wrapped up in one’s own play. I had forgotten, if I had known, and own that the news surprised me.
    “Yes, it was his. Athenians don’t sit through trash without complaining, still less see it crowned. Let us keep things in their places. Dionysios, the ruler, is a despot and the friend of despots. He governs with spies. He plunders temples. He has sold Greek cities to the Carthaginians. He is allied with oligarchs everywhere. He lends troops to the Spartans. To hate him, therefore, is the password of a democrat. In a speech to the Assembly, of course one must say his verse is bathetic and limps in every foot. If one said it is passable, do you think they would debate its structure? They would merely accuse you of wanting the Thirty Tyrants back. But we, after all, are artists and grown men; and nobody is listening.”
    “Well, that’s fair. But would you really act for him, even so? I shouldn’t care to play to an audience an orator had been at