Courage, Orestes! if the lots hit right,
If the black pebbles don't exceed the white,
You're safe.

EURIPIDES.

Pericles sought to please the populace by openly using his influence to diminish the power of the Areopagus; and a decree had been passed that those who denied the existence of the gods, or introduced new opinions about celestial things, should be tried by the people. This event proved fortunate for some of his personal friends; for Hermippus soon laid before the ThesmothetÆ Archons an accusation of blasphemy against Anaxagoras, Phidias, and Aspasia. The case was tried before the fourth Assembly of the people; and the fame of the accused, together with the well-known friendship of Pericles, attracted an immense crowd; insomuch that the Prytaneum was crowded to overflowing. The prisoners came in, attended by the Phylarchi of their different wards. Anaxagoras retained his usual bland expression and meek dignity. Phidias walked with a haughtier tread, and carried his head more proudly. Aspasia was veiled; but as she glided along, gracefully as a swan on the bosom of still waters, loud murmurs of approbation were heard from the crowd. Pericles seated himself near them, with deep sadness on his brow. The moon had not completed its revolution since he had seen Phidias arraigned before the Second Assembly of the people, charged by Menon, one of his own pupils, with having defrauded the state of gold appropriated to the statue of Pallas. Fortunately, the sculptor had arranged the precious metal so that it could be taken off and weighed; and thus his innocence was easily made manifest. But the great statesman had seen, by many indications, that the blow was in part aimed at himself through his friends; and that his enemies were thus trying to ascertain how far the people could be induced to act in opposition to his well-known wishes. The cause had been hurried before the assembly, and he perceived that his opponents were there in great numbers. As soon as the Epistates began to read the accusation, Pericles leaned forward, and burying his face in his robe, remained motionless.

Anaxagoras was charged with not having offered victims to the gods; and with having blasphemed the divine Phoebus, by saying the sun was only a huge ball of fire. Being called upon to answer whether he were guilty of this offence, he replied: "Living victims I have never sacrificed to the gods; because, like the Pythagoreans, I object to the shedding of blood; but, like the disciples of their sublime philosopher, I have duly offered on their altars small goats and rams made of wax. I did say I believed the sun to be a great ball of fire; and deemed not that in so doing I had blasphemed the divine Phoebus."

When he had finished, it was proclaimed aloud that any Athenian, not disqualified by law, might speak. Cleon arose, and said it was well known to the disciples of Anaxagoras, that he taught the existence of but one God. Euripides, Pericles, and others who had been his pupils, were separately called to bear testimony; and all said he taught One Universal Mind, of which all other divinities were the attributes; even as Homer represented the inferior deities subordinate to Zeus.

When the philosopher was asked whether he believed in the gods, he answered, "I do: but I believe in them as the representatives of various attributes in One Universal Mind." He was then required to swear by all the gods, and by the dreaded Erinnys, that he had spoken truly.

The Prytanes informed the assembly that their vote must decide whether this avowed doctrine r endered Anaxagoras of ClazomenÆ worthy of death. A brazen urn was carried round, in which every citizen deposited a pebble. When counted, the black pebbles predominated over the white, and Anaxagoras was condemned to die.

The old man heard it very calmly, and replied: "Nature pronounced that sentence upon me before I was born. Do what you will, Athenians, ye can only injure the outward case of Anaxagoras; the real, immortal Anaxagoras is beyond your power."

Phidias was next arraigned, and accused of blasphemy, in having carved the likeness of himself and Pericles on the shield of heaven-born Pallas; and of having said that he approved the worship of the gods, merely because he wished to have his own works adored. The sculptor proudly replied, "I never declared that my own likeness, or that of Pericles, was on the shield of heaven-born Pallas; nor can any Athenian prove that I ever intended to place them there. I am not answerable for offences which have their origin in the eyes of the multitude. If their quick discernment be the test, crimes may be found written even on the glowing embers of our household altars. I never said I approved the worship of the gods because I wished to have my own works adored; for I should have deemed it irreverent thus to speak of divine beings. Some learned and illustrious guests, who were at the symposium in Aspasia's house, discoursed concerning the worship of images, apart from the idea of any divine attributes, which they represented. I said I approved not of this; and playfully added, that if it were otherwise, I might perchance be excused for sanctioning the worship of mere images, since mortals were ever willing to have their own works adored." The testimony of Pericles, Alcibiades, and Plato, confirmed the truth of his words.

Cleon declared it was commonly believed that Phidias decoyed the maids and matrons of Athens to his house, under the pretence of seeing sculpture; but in reality to minister to the profligacy of Pericles. The sculptor denied the charge; and required that proof should be given of one Athenian woman, who had visited his house, unattended by her husband or her father. The enemies of Pericles could easily have procured such evidence with gold; but when Cleon sought again to speak, the Prytanes commanded silence; and briefly reminded the people that the Fourth Assembly had power to decide concerning religious matters only. Hermippus, in a speech of considerable length, urged that Phidias seldom sacrificed to the gods; and that he must have intended likenesses on the shield of Pallas, because even Athenian children recognized them.

The brazen urn was again passed round, and the black pebbles were more numerous than they had been when the fate of Anaxagoras was decided. When Phidias heard the sentence, he raised himself to his full stature, and waving his right arm over the crowd, said, in a loud voice: "Phidias can never die! Athens herself will live in the fame of Charmides' son." His majestic figure and haughty bearing awed the multitude; and some, repenting of the vote they had given, said, "Surely, invisible Phoebus is with him!"

Aspasia was next called to answer the charges brought against her. She had dressed herself, in deep mourning, as if appealing to the compassion of the citizens; and her veil was artfully arranged to display an arm and shoulder of exquisite whiteness and beauty, contrasted with glossy ringlets of dark hair, that carelessly rested on it. She was accused of saying that the sacred baskets of Demeter contained nothing of so much importance as the beautiful maidens who carried them; and that the temple of Poseidon was enriched with no offerings from those who had been wrecked, notwithstanding their supplications—thereby implying irreverent doubts of the power of Ocean's god. To this, Aspasia, in clear and musical tones, replied: "I said not that the sacred baskets of Demeter contained nothing of so much importance as the beautiful maidens who carried them. But, in playful allusion to the love of beauty, so conspicuous in Alcibiades, I said that he, who was initiated into the mysteries of Eleusis, might think, the baskets less attractive than the lovely maidens who carried them. Irreverence was not in my thoughts; but inasmuch as my careless words implied it, I have offered atoning sacrifices to the mother of Persephone, during which I abstained from all amusements. When I declared that the temple of Poseidon contained no offerings in commemoration of men that had been wrecked, I said it in reproof of those who fail to supplicate the gods for the manes of the departed. They who perish on the ocean, may have offended Poseidon, or the Virgin Sisters of the Deep; and on their altars should offerings be laid by surviving friends.

"No man can justly accuse me of disbelief in the gods; for it is well known that with every changing moon I offer on the altars of Aphrodite, doves and sparrows, with baskets of apples, roses and myrtles: and who in Athens has not seen the ivory car drawn by golden swans, which the grateful Aspasia placed in the temple of that love-inspiring deity?"

Phidias could scarcely restrain a smile, as he listened to this defence; and when the fair casuist swore by all the gods, and by the Erinnys, that she had spoken truly, Anaxagoras looked up involuntarily, with an expression of child-like astonishment. Alcibiades promptly corroborated her statement. Plato, being called to testify, gravely remarked that she had uttered those words, and she alone could explain her motives. The populace seemed impressed in her favour; and when it was put to vote whether sentence of death should be passed, an universal murmur arose, of "Exile! Exile!"

The Epistates requested that all who wished to consider it a question of exile, rather than of death, would signify the same by holding up their hands. With very few exceptions, the crowd were inclined to mercy. Hermippus gave tokens of displeasure, and hastily rose to accuse Aspasia of corrupting the youth of Athens, by the introduction of singing and dancing women, and by encouraging the matrons of Greece to appear unveiled.

A loud laugh followed his remarks; for the comic actor was himself far from aiding public morals by an immaculate example.

The Prytanes again reminded him that charges of this nature must be decided by the First Assembly of the people; and, whether true or untrue, ought to have no influence on religious questions brought before the Fourth Assembly.

Hermippus was perfectly aware of this; but he deemed that the vote might be affected by his artful suggestion.

The brazen urn was again carried round; and fifty-one pebbles only appeared in disapprobation of exile.

Then Pericles arose, and looked around him with calm dignity. He was seldom seen in public, even at entertainments; hence, something of sacredness was attached to his person, like the Salaminian galley reserved for great occasions. A murmur like the Distant ocean was heard, as men whispered to each other, "Lo, Pericles is about to speak!" When the tumult subsided, he said, in a loud voice, "If any here can accuse Pericles of having enriched himself at the expense of the state, let him hold up his right hand!"

Not a hand was raised—for his worst enemies could not deny that he was temperate and frugal.

After a slight pause, he again resumed: "If any man can show that Pericles ever asked a public favour for himself or his friends, let him speak!" No words were uttered; but a murmur of discontent was heard in the vicinity of Cleon and Hermippus.

The illustrious statesman folded his arms, and waited in quiet majesty for the murmur to assume a distinct form. When all was hashed, he continued: "If any man believes that Athens has declined in beauty, wealth, or power, since the administration of Pericles, let him give his opinion freely!"

National enthusiasm was kindled; and many voices exclaimed, "Hail Pericles! All hail to Athens in her glory!"

The statesman gracefully waved his hand toward the multitude, as he replied, "Thanks, friends and brother-citizens. Who among you is disposed to grant to Pericles one favour, not inconsistent with your laws, or in opposition to the decrees of this assembly?"

A thousand hands were instantly raised. Pericles again expressed his thanks, and said, "The favour I have to ask is, that the execution of these decrees be suspended, until the oracle of Amphiaraus can be consulted. If it please you, let a vote be taken who shall be the messenger."

The proposal was accepted; and Antiphon, a celebrated diviner, appointed to consult the oracle.

As the crowd dispersed, Cleon muttered to Hermippus, "By Circe! I believe he has given the Athenians philtres to make them love him. No wonder Archidamus of Sparta said, that when he threw Pericles in wrestling, he insisted he was never down, and persuaded the very spectators to believe him."

Anaxagoras and Phidias, being under sentence of death, were placed in prison, until the people should finally decide upon their fate. The old philosopher cheerfully employed his hours in attempts to square the circle. The sculptor carved a wooden image, with many hands and feet, and without a head; upon the pedestal of which he inscribed Demos, and secretly reserved it as a parting gift to the Athenian people.

Before another moon had waned, Antiphon returned from Oropus, whither he had been sent to consult the oracle. Being called before the people, he gave the following account of his mission: "I abstained from food until Phoebus had twice appeared above the hills, in his golden chariot; and for three days and three nights, I tasted no wine. When I had thus purified myself, I offered a white ram to Amphiaraus; and spreading the skin on the ground, I invoked the blessing of Phoebus and his prophetic son, and laid me down to sleep. Methought I walked in the streets of Athens. A lurid light shone on the walls of the PirÆus, and spread into the city, until all the Acropolis seemed glowing beneath a fiery sky. I looked up—and lo! the heavens were in a blaze! Huge masses of flame were thrown backward and forward, as if Paridamator and the Cyclops were hurling their forges at each other's heads. Amazed, I turned to ask the meaning of these phenomena; and I saw that all the citizens were clothed in black; and wherever two were walking together, one fell dead by his side. Then I heard a mighty voice, that seemed to proceed from within the Parthenon. Three times it pronounced distinctly, 'Wo! wo! wo unto Athens!

"I awoke, and after a time slept again. I heard a rumbling noise, like thunder; and from the statue of Amphiaraus came a voice, saying, 'Life is given by the gods.'

"Then all was still. Presently I again heard a sound like the multitudinous waves of ocean, when it rises in a storm—and Amphiaraus said, slowly, 'Count the pebbles on the seashore—yea, count them twice.' Then I awoke; and having bathed in the fountain, I threw therein three pieces of gold and silver, and departed."

The people demanded of Antiphon the meaning of these visions. He replied: "The first portends calamity to Athens, either of war or pestilence. By the response of the oracle, I understand that the citizens are commanded to vote twice, before they take away life given by the gods."

The wish to gain time had chiefly induced Pericles to request that Amphiaraus might be consulted. In the interval, his emissaries had been busy in softening the minds of the people; and it became universally known that in case Aspasia's sentence were reversed, she intended to offer sacrifices to Aphrodite, Poseidon, and Demeter; during the continuance of which, the citizens would be publicly feasted at her expense.

In these exertions, Pericles was zealously assisted by Clinias, a noble and wealthy Athenian, the friend of Anaxagoras and Phidias, and a munificent patron of the arts. He openly promised, if the lives of his friends were spared, to evince his gratitude to the gods, by offering a golden lamp to Pallas Parthenia, and placing in each of the agoras any statue or painting the people thought fit to propose.

Still, Pericles, aware of the bitterness of his enemies, increased by the late severe edict against those of foreign parentage, felt exceedingly fearful of the result of a second vote. A petition, signed by Pericles, Clinias, Ephialtes, Euripides, Socrates, Plato, Alcibiades, Paralus, and many other distinguished citizens, was sent into the Second Assembly of the people, begging that the accused might have another trial; and this petition was granted.

When the Fourth Assembly again met, strong efforts were made to fill the Prytaneum at a very early hour with the friends of Pericles.

The great orator secluded himself for three preceding days, and refrained from wine. During this time, he poured plentiful libations of milk and honey to Hermes, god of Eloquence, and sacrificed the tongues of nightingales to Peitho, goddess of Persuasion.

When he entered the Prytaneum, it was remarked that he had never before been seen to look so pale; and this circumstance, trifling as it was, excited the ready sympathies of the people. When the Epistates read the accusation against Anaxagoras, and proclaimed that any Athenian, not disqualified by law, might speak, Pericles arose. For a moment he looked on the venerable countenance of the old philosopher, and seemed to struggle with his emotions. Then, with sudden impulse, he exclaimed, "Look on him, Athenians! and judge ye if he be one accursed of the gods!—He is charged with having said that the sun is a great ball of fire; and therein ye deem that the abstractions of philosophy have led him to profane the sacred name of Phoebus. We are told that Zeus assumed the form of an eagle, a serpent, and a golden shower; yet these forms do not affect our belief in the invisible god. If Phoebus appeared on earth in the disguise of a woman and a shepherd, is it unpardonable for a philosopher to suppose that the same deity may choose to reside within a ball of fire? In the garden of Anaxagoras, you will find a statue of Pallas, carved from an olive-tree. He brought it with him from Ionia; and those disciples who most frequent his house, can testify that sacrifices were ever duly offered upon her altar. Who among you ever received an injury from that kind old man? He was the descendant of princes,—yet gave up gold for philosophy, and forbore to govern mankind, that he might love them more perfectly. Ask the young noble, who has been to him as a father; and his response will be 'Anaxagoras.' Ask the poor fisherman at the gates, who has been to him as a brother; and he will answer 'Anaxagoras.' When the merry-hearted boys throng your doors to sing their welcome to OrnithÆ, inquire from whom they receive the kindest word and the readiest gift; and they will tell you, 'Anaxagoras.' The Amphiaraus of Eschylus, says, 'I do not wish to appear to be a good man, but I wish to be one.' Ask any of the poets, what living man most resembles Amphiaraus in this sentiment; and his reply will surely be, 'It is Anaxagoras.'

"Again I say, Athenians, look upon his face; and judge ye if he be one accursed of the gods!"

The philosopher had leaned on his staff, and looked downward, while his illustrious pupil made this defence; and when he had concluded, a tear was seen slowly trickling down his aged cheek. His accusers again urged that he had taught the doctrine of one god, under the name of One Universal Mind; but the melodious voice and fluent tongue of Pericles had so wrought upon the citizens, that when the question was proposed, whether the old man were worthy of death, there arose a clamourous cry of "Exile! Exile!"

The successful orator did not venture to urge the plea of entire innocence; for he felt that he still had too much depending on the capricious favour of the populace.

The aged philosopher received his sentence with thanks; and calmly added, "Anaxagoras is not exiled from Athens; but Athens from Anaxagoras. Evil days are coming on this city; and those who are too distant to perceive the trophy at Salamis will deem themselves most blessed. Pythagoras said, 'When the tempest is rising,'tis wise to worship the echo.'"

After the accusation against Phidias had been read, Pericles again rose and said, "Athenians! I shall speak briefly; for I appeal to what every citizen values more than his fortune or his name. I plead for the glory of Athens. When strangers from Ethiopia, Egypt, Phoenicia, and distant Taprobane, come to witness the far-famed beauty of the violet-crowned city, they will stand in mute worship before the Parthenon; and when their wonder finds utterance, they will ask what the Athenians bestowed on an artist so divine. Who among you could look upon the image of Virgin Pallas, resplendent in her heavenly majesty, and not blush to tell the barbarian stranger that death was the boon you bestowed on Phidias?

"Go, gaze on the winged statue of Rhamnusia, where vengeance seems to breathe from the marble sent by Darius to erect his trophy on the plains of Marathon! Then turn and tell the proud Persian that the hand which wrought those fair proportions, lies cold and powerless, by vote of the Athenian people. No—ye could not say it: your hearts would choke your voices. Ye could not tell the barbarian that Athens thus destroyed one of the most gifted of her sons."

The crowd answered in a thunder of applause; mingled with the cry of "Exile! Exile!" A few voices shouted, "A fine! A fine!" Then Cleon arose and said: "Miltiades asked for an olive crown; and a citizen answered, 'When Miltiades conquers alone, let him be crowned alone.' When Phidias can show that he built the Parthenon without the assistance of Ictinus, Myron, Callicrates, and others, then let him have the whole credit of the Parthenon."

To this, Pericles replied, "We are certainly much indebted to those artists for many of the beautiful and graceful details of that sublime composition; but with regard to the majestic design of the Parthenon, Phidias conquered alone, and may therefore justly be crowned alone."

A vote was taken on the question of exile, and the black pebbles predominated. The sculptor heard his sentence with a proud gesture, not unmingled with scorn; and calmly replied, "They can banish Phidias from Athens, more easily than I can take from them the fame of Phidias."

When Pericles replied to the charges against Aspasia, his countenance became more pale, and his voice was agitated: "You all know," said he, "That Aspasia is of Miletus. That city which poets call the laughing daughter of Earth and Heaven: where even the river smiles, as it winds along in graceful wanderings, eager to kiss every new blossom, and court the dalliance of every breeze. Do ye not find it easy to forgive a woman, born under those joyful skies, where beauty rests on the earth in a robe of sunbeams, and inspires the gayety which pours itself forth in playful words? Can ye judge harshly of one, who from her very childhood has received willing homage, as the favourite of Aphrodite, Phoebus, and the Muses? If she spoke irreverently, it was done in thoughtless mirth; and she has sought to atone for it by sacrifices and tears.

"Athenians! I have never boasted; and if I seem to do it now, it is humbly,—as befits one who seeks a precious boon. In your service I have spent many toilsome days and sleepless nights. That I have not enriched myself by it, is proved by the well-known fact that my own son blames my frugality, and reproachfully calls me the slave of the Athenian people."

He paused for a moment, and held his hand over Aspasia's head, as he continued: "In the midst of perplexities and cares, here I have ever found a solace and a guide. Here are treasured up the affections of my heart. It is not for Aspasia, the gifted daughter of Axiochus, that I plead. It is for Aspasia, the beloved wife of Pericles."

Tears choked his utterance; but stifling his emotion, he exclaimed, "Athenians! if ye would know what it is that thus unmans a soul capable of meeting death with calmness, behold, and judge for yourselves!"

As he spoke, he raised Aspasia's veil. Her drapery had been studiously arranged to display her loveliness to the utmost advantage; and as she stood forth radiant in beauty, the building rung with the acclamations that were sent forth, peal after peal, by the multitude.

Pericles had not in vain calculated on the sympathies of a volatile and ardent people, passionately fond of the beautiful, in all its forms. Aspasia remained in Athens, triumphant over the laws of religion and morality.

Clinias desired leave to speak in behalf of Philothea, grandchild of Anaxagoras; and the populace, made good-humoured by their own clemency, expressed a wish to hear. He proceeded as follows: "Philothea,—whom you all know was, not long since, one of the CanephorÆ, and embroidered the splendid peplus exhibited at the last PanathenÆa—humbly begs of the Athenians, that Eudora, Dione, and Geta, slaves of Phidias, may remain under his protection, and not be confiscated with his household goods. A contribution would have been raised, to buy these individuals of the state, were it not deemed an insult to that proud and generous people, who fined a citizen for proposing marble as a cheaper material than ivory for the statue of Pallas Parthenia."

The request, thus aided by flattery, was almost unanimously granted. One black pebble alone appeared in the urn; and that was from the hand of Alcibiades.

Clinias expressed his thanks, and holding up the statue of Urania, he added: "In token of gratitude for this boon, and for the life of a beloved grandfather, Philothea consecrates to Pallas AthenÆ this image of the star-worshipping muse; the gift of a munificent Ethiopian."

The populace, being in gracious mood, forthwith voted that the exiles had permission to carry with them any articles valued as the gift of friendship.

The Prytanes dismissed the assembly; and as they dispersed, Alcibiades scattered small coins among them. Aspasia immediately sent to the Prytaneum an ivory statue of Mnemosyne, smiling as she looked back on a group of Hours; a magnificent token that she would never forget the clemency of the Athenian people.

Hermippus took an early opportunity to proclaim the exhibition of a new comedy called Hercules and Omphale; and the volatile citizens thronged the theatre, to laugh at that infatuated tenderness, which in the Prytaneum had well nigh moved them to tears. The actor openly ridiculed them for having been so much influenced by their orator's least-successful attempt at eloquence; but in the course of the same play, Cratinus raised a laugh at his expense, by saying facetiously: "Lo! Hermippus would speak like Pericles! Hear him, Athenians! Is he not as successful as Salmoneus, when he rolled his chariot over a brazen bridge, and hurled torches to imitate the thunder and lightning of Zeus?"

When the day of trial had passed, Pericles slept soundly; for his heart was relieved from a heavy pressure. But personal enemies and envious artists were still active; and it was soon buzzed abroad that the people repented of the vote they had given. The exiles had been allowed ten days to sacrifice to the gods, bid farewell to friends, and prepare for departure; but on the third day, at evening twilight, Pericles entered the dwelling of his revered old master. "My father," said he, "I am troubled in spirit. I have just now returned from the PirÆus, where I sought an interview with Clinias, who daily visits the Deigma, and has a better opportunity than I can have to hear the news of Athens. I found him crowned with garlands; for he had been offering sacrifices in the hall. He told me he had thus sought to allay the anxiety of his mind with regard to yourself and Phidias. He fears the capricious Athenians will reverse their decree."

"Alas, Pericles," replied the old man, "what can you expect of a people, when statesmen condescend to buy justice at their hands, by promised feasts, and scattered coin?"

"Nay, blame me not, Anaxagoras," rejoined Pericles; "I cannot govern as I would. I found the people corrupted; and I must humour their disease. Your life must be saved; even if you reprove me for the means. At midnight, a boat will be in readiness to conduct you to Salamis, where lies a galley bound for Ionia. I hasten to warn Phidias to depart speedily for Elis."

The parting interview between Philothea and her repentant friend was almost too painful for endurance. Poor Eudora felt that she was indeed called to drink the cup of affliction, to its last bitter drop. Her heart yearned to follow the household of Anaxagoras; but Philothea strengthened her own conviction that duty and gratitude both demanded she should remain with Phidias.

Geta and Milza likewise had their sorrows—the harder to endure, because they were the first they had ever encountered. The little peasant was so young, and her lover so poor, that their friends thought a union had better be deferred. But Milza was free: and Anaxagoras told her it depended on her own choice, to go with them, or follow Geta. The grateful Arcadian dropped on one knee, and kissing Philothea's hand, while the tears flowed down her cheeks, said: "She has been a mother to orphan Milza, and I will not leave her now. Geta says it would be wrong to leave her when she is in affliction."

Philothea, with a gentle smile, put back the ringlets from her tearful eyes, and told her not to weep for her sake; for she should be resigned and cheerful, wheresover the gods might place her; but Milza saw that her smiles were sad.

At midnight, Pericles came, to accompany Anaxagoras to Salamis. Paralus and Philothea had been conversing much, and singing their favourite songs together, for the last time. The brow of the ambitious statesman became clouded, when he observed that his son had been in tears; he begged that preparations for departure might be hastened. The young man followed them to the PirÆus; but Pericles requested him to go no further. The restraint of his presence prevented any parting less formal than that of friendship. But he stood watching the boat that conveyed them over the waters; and when the last ripple left in its wake had disappeared, he slowly returned to Athens.

The beautiful city stoood before him, mantled in moonlight's silvery veil. Yet all seemed cheerless; for the heart of Paralus was desolate. He looked toward the beloved mansion near the gate Diocharis; drew from his bosom a long lock of golden hair; and leaning against the statue of Hermes, bowed down his head and wept.