The Hemlock Cup - Bettany Hughes [109]
Greece has a long history of worshipping gods from the East. Zeus himself first appeared as a small bronze from Sumeria (made in the third millennium BC) before there was any mention of him in records west of the Bosporus. Dionysos too danced, swung and lurched his way over from Central Asia at just about the moment that written records in what we now call Greece began. But in the fifth century BC, a full thousand years later, in Socrates’ day, the community of gods on Mount Olympus was a little more settled. There was, indeed, an Olympian establishment. The arrival of a new divinity, relatively infrequent, never failed to cause a stir. Bendis was a newcomer whom the Athenians wanted to make particularly welcome. Her worship had been accepted by democratic vote in the Assembly. Not only would she protect and nourish the sizeable population of Thracian immigrants who worked in Piraeus, but she might bring onside the warring tribes of Thrace themselves – fierce soldiers whom Athens did not want to find buttressing a Spartan army.
The night festival must have been thrilling. Greek torches were halfhuman size: made of pine or cedar, their scent was pungent, the flames burned bright and long. Bendis was a huntress like Artemis; she prized speed, and a keen sense of competition. So down in this humming harbour-town, with its mongrel population and a ‘where-there’s-muck-there’s-brass’ mentality, an edgy carnival was promised. No one knew what to expect. Women priestesses had been chosen to administer the cult, and citizens and aliens alike played an official ritual role.3
Much was made by Socrates’ biographers of the fact that Socrates did not travel around the Mediterranean as his sophist contemporaries did, sightseeing, lecturing. But he had little need to travel out of Athens; the world came to him. Bendis’ acceptance was as much to do with political survival as it was with spiritual enlightenment. The Athenians knew, with war-cries all around, that the goodwill of the wild men of Thrace was more than useful.4 There were many immigrants in the Piraeus district, a sizeable community of Thracians amongst them; and now they had a charismatic, ritual crowd-puller to call their own; a sense of belonging. Simple marks in stone, a decree, tell us that the goddess’ heady celebrations ran all night.
Night and day, before, during and after the Peloponnesian War, there is no doubt that Socrates revelled in the many and various Athenian festivals – and valued them. These events were vital: a way that stakeholders got together, on the streets, and enjoyed what it meant to be a community. Socrates, quite rightly, opines that that these aren’t just blind traditions, entrenched ways of being that stumble along in the train of orthodoxy, but feel-good experiences. Reasons to live. Their predictable presence is part of what constitutes the good life.
Festivals, singing, shared celebrations of all kinds – these are initiated by Eros, and they give life itself a sweetness and a sense.5
Perhaps because Socrates was accused of impiety, Plato, writing with hindsight, emphasises the number of times the philosopher throws himself into the worship of Athens’ various gods. The fact that Plato cites Bendis might well be a pointed reminder (given the accusations against Socrates during his trial) that Athens, and not just Socrates, was open-minded enough