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death.”
    Anaxagoras gave a soft sigh which might have been a laugh. “The descent into Hades,” he said, “is the same no matter where or when you start.”
    I then asked the grimmest of Greek questions, first phrased by the insufficiently hard-headed author of The Persians ,“ ‘Is it not better for a man never to have been born?’ ”
    “Certainly not.” The response was brisk. “Just to be able to study the sky is reason enough to be alive.”
    “Unfortunately, I can’t see the sky.”
    “Then listen to music.” Anaxagoras is always to the point. “Anyway, Pericles is convinced that the Spartans are behind the rebellion of Euboea. So this season Sparta is the enemy, not Persia.” Anaxagoras lowered his voice to a whisper. “When I told the general that I was coming here to dinner, he asked me to apologize to you. He has wanted to receive you for some time. But he is always watched.”
    “So much for Athenian freedom.”
    “There are worse cities, Cyrus Spitama.”
    As Anaxagoras was taking his leave I asked, “Where was all this infinitesimal matter before it was set in motion by mind?”
    “Everywhere.”
    “No real answer.”
    “Perhaps no real question.”
    I laughed. “You remind me of a wise man that I met in the east. When I asked him how this world began, he made a nonsensical answer. When I told him that his answer made no sense, he said, ‘Impossible questions require impossible answers.’ ”
    “A wise man,” said Anaxagoras, without conviction.
    “But why was it that mind set creation in motion?”
    “Because that is the nature of mind.”
    “Is this demonstrable?”
    “It has been demonstrated that the sun is a rock which rotates so quickly that it has caught fire. Well, the sun must have been at rest at some point or it would have burned out by now, the way its fragment did when it fell to earth.”
    “Then why won’t you agree with me that the mind which set all these seeds in motion was that of the Wise Lord, whose prophet was Zoroaster?”
    “You must tell me more about the Wise Lord, and what he said to your grandfather. Perhaps the Wise Lord is mind. Who knows? I don’t. You must instruct me.”
    I find Anaxagoras agreeable. He does not push himself forward like most sophists. I think of my kinsman Protagoras. Young men pay him to teach them something called morality. He is the wealthiest sophist in the Greek world, according to the other sophists—who should know.
    Many years ago I met Protagoras in Abdera. He came one day to my grandfather’s house to deliver wood. He was young, charming, quick-witted. Later, somehow, he became educated. I don’t think that my grandfather helped him, though he was a very rich man. Protagoras has not been in Athens for several years. He is said to be teaching in Corinth, a city filled with wealthy, idle, impious youths, according to the Athenians. Democritus admires our kinsman and has offered to read me one of his many books. I have declined this pleasure. On the other hand, I should not mind meeting him again. Protagoras is another favorite of Pericles’.
    Except for one brief public meeting with General Pericles at government house, I have not come within half a city of him. But then, as Anaxagoras said last night, Pericles is always watched. Although he is, in effect, the ruler of Athens, he can still be charged in the assembly with medism or atheism—or even the murder of his political mentor Ephialtes.
    Democritus finds the great man dull. On the other hand, the boy admires Aspasia. Lately, he has had the run of her house, where a half-dozen charming girls from Miletus are permanently, in residence.
    Since Democritus is taking dictation, I cannot give my views on the ideal behavior of a young man in society. He assures me that Aspasia is still good-looking despite her advanced age—she is about twenty-five—and recent motherhood. She is also fearless, which is a good thing, since there is much to fear in this turbulent