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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/6327-0.txt b/6327-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fda8e84 --- /dev/null +++ b/6327-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10987 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Works of Lucian of Samosata, Volume 1 + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: The Works of Lucian of Samosata, Volume 1 + +Author: Lucian of Samosata + +Translators: H.W. Fowler and F.G. Fowler + +Release Date: November 27, 2002 [eBook #6327] +[Most recently updated: April 8, 2023] + +Language: English + +Produced by: Beth Constantine, Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORKS OF LUCIAN OF SAMOSATA *** + + + + +THE WORKS OF LUCIAN OF SAMOSATA + +Complete with exceptions specified in the preface + + + + +TRANSLATED BY + +H. W. FOWLER AND F. G. FOWLER + + + + +IN FOUR VOLUMES + + + + +What work nobler than transplanting foreign thought into the barren domestic +soil? except indeed planting thought of your own, which the fewest are +privileged to do.—_Sarlor Resartus_. + +At each flaw, be this your first thought: the author doubtless said something +quite different, and much more to the point. And then you may hiss _me_ +off, if you will.—LUCIAN, _Nigrinus, 9_. + +(LUCIAN) The last great master of Attic eloquence and Attic wit.—_Lord +Macaulay_. + + + + +VOLUME I + + + + +PREFACE + + +The text followed in this translation is that of Jacobitz, Teubner, +1901, all deviations from which are noted. + +In the following list of omissions, italics denote that the piece is +marked as spurious both by Dindorf and by Jacobitz. The other omissions +are mainly by way of expurgation. In a very few other passages some +isolated words and phrases have been excised; but it has not been +thought necessary to mark these in the texts by asterisks. + +_Halcyon_; Deorum Dialogi, iv, v, ix, x, xvii, xxii, xxiii; Dialogi +Marini, xiii; Vera Historia, I. 22, II. 19; Alexander, 41,42; Eunuchus; +_De Astrologia_; _Amores_; _Lucius_ sive _Asinus_; Rhetorum Preceptor, +23; _Hippias_; Adversus Indoctum, 23; Pseudologista; _Longaevi_; +Dialogi Meretricii, v, vi, x; De Syria Dea; _Philopatris; Charidemus; +Nero_; Tragodopodagra; Ocypus; Epigrammata. + +A word may be said about four pieces that seem to stand apart from the +rest. Of these, the _Trial in the Court of Vowels_ and _A Slip of the +Tongue_ will be interesting only to those who are familiar with Greek. +The _Lexiphanes_ and _A Purist Purized_, satirizing the pedants and +euphuists of Lucian's day, almost defy translation, and they must be +accepted at best as an effort to give the general effect of the +original. + +The _Notes explanatory_ at the end of vol. iv will be used by the +reader at his discretion. Reference is made to them at the foot of the +page only when it is not obvious what name should be consulted. + +The translators take this opportunity of offering their heartiest +thanks to the Delegates of the Clarendon Press for undertaking this +work; and, in particular, to the Vice-Chancellor of Oxford University, +Dr. Merry, who has been good enough to read the proofs, and to give +much valuable advice both on the difficult subject of excision and on +details of style and rendering. In this connexion, however, it should +be added that for the retention of many modern phrases, which may +offend some readers as anachronistic, responsibility rests with the +translators alone. + + +CONTENTS of VOL. I + + + PREFACE + INTRODUCTION + THE VISION + A LITERARY PROMETHEUS + NIGRINUS + TRIAL IN THE COURT OF VOWELS + TIMON THE MISANTHROPE + PROMETHEUS ON CAUCASUS + DIALOGUES OF THE GODS +i, ii, iii, vi, vii, viii, xi, xii, xiii, xiv, xv, xvi, xviii, xix, xx, +xxi, xxiv, xxv, xxvi. + DIALOGUES OF THE SEA-GODS +i, ii, iii, iv, v, vi, vii, viii, ix, x, xi, xii, xiv, xv. + DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD +I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, +XVIII, XIX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII, XXIV, XXV, XXVI, XXVII, XXVIII, XXIX, +XXX. + MENIPPUS + CHARON + OF SACRIFICE + SALE OF CREEDS + THE FISHER + VOYAGE TO THE LOWER WORLD + + + +INTRODUCTION + +1. LIFE. +2. PROBABLE ORDER OF WRITINGS. +3. CIRCUMSTANCES OF THE TIME. +4. LUCIAN AS A WRITER. + + +It is not to be understood that all statements here made are either +ascertained facts or universally admitted conjectures. The introduction +is intended merely to put those who are not scholars, and probably have +not books of reference at hand, in a position to approach the +translation at as little disadvantage as may be. Accordingly, we give +the account that commends itself to us, without discussion or reference +to authorities. Those who would like a more complete idea of Lucian +should read Croiset's _Essai sur la vie et les oeuvres de Lucien_, on +which the first two sections of this introduction are very largely +based. The only objections to the book (if they are objections) are +that it is in French, and of 400 octavo pages. It is eminently +readable. + +1. LIFE + +With the exception of a very small number of statements, of which the +truth is by no means certain, all that we know of Lucian is derived +from his own writings. And any reader who prefers to have his facts at +first rather than at second hand can consequently get them by reading +certain of his pieces, and making the natural deductions from them. +Those that contain biographical matter are, in the order corresponding +to the periods of his life on which they throw light, _The Vision, +Demosthenes, Nigrinus, The Portrait-study_ and _Defence_ (in which +Lucian is _Lycinus_), _The Way to write History, The double Indictment_ +(in which he is _The Syrian_), _The Fisher_ (_Parrhesiades_), _Swans +and Amber, Alexander_, _Hermotimus_ (_Lycinus_), _Menippus and +Icaromenippus_ (in which _Menippus_ represents him), _A literary +Prometheus, Herodotus, Zeuxis, Harmonides, The Scythian_, _The Death of +Peregrine_, _The Book-fancier_, _Demonax_, _The Rhetorician's Vade +mecum_, _Dionysus_, _Heracles_, _A Slip of the Tongue_, _Apology for +'The dependent Scholar.'_ Of these _The Vision_ is a direct piece of +autobiography; there is intentional but veiled autobiography in several +of the other pieces; in others again conclusions can be drawn from +comparison of his statements with facts known from external sources. + +Lucian lived from about 125 to about 200 A.D., under the Roman Emperors +Antoninus Pius, M. Aurelius and Lucius Verus, Commodus, and perhaps +Pertinax. He was a Syrian, born at Samosata on the Euphrates, of +parents to whom it was of importance that he should earn his living +without spending much time or money on education. His maternal uncle +being a statuary, he was apprenticed to him, having shown an aptitude +for modelling in the wax that he surreptitiously scraped from his +school writing-tablets. The apprenticeship lasted one day. It is clear +that he was impulsive all through life; and when his uncle corrected +him with a stick for breaking a piece of marble, he ran off home, +disposed already to think he had had enough of statuary. His mother +took his part, and he made up his mind by the aid of a vision that came +to him the same night. + +It was the age of the rhetoricians. If war was not a thing of the past, +the shadow of the _pax Romana_ was over all the small states, and the +aspiring provincial's readiest road to fame was through words rather +than deeds. The arrival of a famous rhetorician to lecture was one of +the important events in any great city's annals; and Lucian's works are +full of references to the impression these men produced, and the envy +they enjoyed. He himself was evidently consumed, during his youth and +early manhood, with desire for a position like theirs. To him, sleeping +with memories of the stick, appeared two women, corresponding to +_Virtue_ and _Pleasure_ in Prodicus's _Choice of Heracles_—the working +woman _Statuary_, and the lady _Culture_. They advanced their claims to +him in turn; but before _Culture_ had completed her reply, the choice +was made: he was to be a rhetorician. From her reminding him that she +was even now not all unknown to him, we may perhaps assume that he +spoke some sort of Greek, or was being taught it; but he assures us +that after leaving Syria he was still a barbarian; we have also a +casual mention of his offering a lock of his hair to the Syrian goddess +in his youth. + +He was allowed to follow his bent and go to Ionia. Great Ionian cities +like Smyrna and Ephesus were full of admired sophists or teachers of +rhetoric. But it is unlikely that Lucian's means would have enabled him +to become the pupil of these. He probably acquired his skill to a great +extent by the laborious method, which he ironically deprecates in _The +Rhetorician's Vade mecum_, of studying exhaustively the old Attic +orators, poets, and historians. + +He was at any rate successful. The different branches that a +rhetorician might choose between or combine were: (1) Speaking in court +on behalf of a client; (2) Writing speeches for a client to deliver; +(3) Teaching pupils; (4) Giving public displays of his skill. There is +a doubtful statement that Lucian failed in (1), and took to (2) in +default. His surviving rhetorical pieces (_The Tyrannicide, The +Disinherited, Phalaris_) are declamations on hypothetical cases which +might serve either for (3) or (4); and _The Hall, The Fly, Dipsas_, and +perhaps _Demosthenes_, suggest (4). A common form of exhibition was for +a sophist to appear before an audience and let them propose subjects, +of which he must choose one and deliver an impromptu oration upon it. + +Whatever his exact line was, he earned an income in Ionia, then in +Greece, had still greater success in Italy, and appears to have settled +for some time in Gaul, perhaps occupying a professorial chair there. +The intimate knowledge of Roman life in some aspects which appears in +_The dependent Scholar_ suggests that he also lived some time in Rome. +He seems to have known some Latin, since he could converse with boatmen +on the Po; but his only clear reference (_A Slip of the Tongue_, 13) +implies an imperfect knowledge of it; and there is not a single mention +in all his works, which are crammed with literary allusions, of any +Latin author. He claims to have been during his time in Gaul one of the +rhetoricians who could command high fees; and his descriptions of +himself as resigning his place close about his lady's (i.e. Rhetoric's) +person, and as casting off his wife Rhetoric because she did not keep +herself exclusively to him, show that he regarded himself, or wished to +be regarded, as having been at the head of his profession. + +This brings us to about the year 160 A.D. We may conceive Lucian now to +have had some of that yearning for home which he ascribes in the +_Patriotism_ even to the successful exile. He returned home, we +suppose, a distinguished man at thirty-five, and enjoyed impressing the +fact on his fellow citizens in _The Vision_. He may then have lived at +Antioch as a rhetorician for some years, of which we have a memorial in +_The Portrait-study_. Lucius Verus, M. Aurelius's colleague, was at +Antioch in 162 or 163 A.D. on his way to the Parthian war, and _The +Portrait-study_ is a panegyric on Verus's mistress Panthea, whom Lucian +saw there. + +A year or two later we find him migrating to Athens, taking his father +with him, and at Athens he settled and remained many years. It was on +this journey that the incident occurred, which he relates with such a +curious absence of shame in the _Alexander_, of his biting that +charlatan's hand. + +This change in his manner of life corresponds nearly with the change in +habit of mind and use of his powers that earned him his immortality. +His fortieth year is the date given by himself for his abandonment of +Rhetoric and, as he calls it, taking up with Dialogue, or, as we might +say, becoming a man of letters. Between Rhetoric and Dialogue there was +a feud, which had begun when Socrates five centuries before had fought +his battles with the sophists. Rhetoric appeals to the emotions and +obscures the issues (such had been Socrates's position); the way to +elicit truth is by short question and answer. The Socratic method, +illustrated by Plato, had become, if not the only, the accredited +instrument of philosophers, who, so far as they are genuine, are +truth-seekers; Rhetoric had been left to the legal persons whose object +is not truth but victory. Lucian's abandonment of Rhetoric was +accordingly in some sort his change from a lawyer to a philosopher. As +it turned out, however, philosophy was itself only a transitional stage +with him. + +Already during his career as a rhetorician, which we may put at 145-164 +A.D., he seems both to have had leanings to philosophy, and to have +toyed with dialogue. There is reason to suppose that the _Nigrinus_, +with its strong contrast between the noise and vulgarity of Rome and +the peace and culture of Athens, its enthusiastic picture of the charm +of philosophy for a sensitive and intelligent spirit, was written in +150 A.D., or at any rate described an incident that occurred in that +year; and the _Portrait-study_ and its _Defence_, dialogues written +with great care, whatever their other merits, belong to 162 or 163 A.D. +But these had been excursions out of his own province. After settling +at Athens he seems to have adopted the writing of dialogues as his +regular work. The _Toxaris_, a collection of stories on friendship, +strung together by dialogue, the _Anacharsis_, a discussion on the +value of physical training, and the _Pantomime_, a description slightly +relieved by the dialogue form, may be regarded as experiments with his +new instrument. There is no trace in them of the characteristic use +that he afterwards made of dialogue, for the purposes of satire. + +That was an idea that we may suppose to have occurred to him after the +composition of the _Hermotimus_. This is in form the most philosophic +of his dialogues; it might indeed be a dialogue of Plato, of the merely +destructive kind; but it is at the same time, in matter, his farewell +to philosophy, establishing that the pursuit of it is hopeless for +mortal man. From this time onward, though he always professes himself a +lover of true philosophy, he concerns himself no more with it, except +to expose its false professors. The dialogue that perhaps comes next, +_The Parasite_, is still Platonic in form, but only as a parody; its +main interest (for a modern reader is outraged, as in a few other +pieces of Lucian's, by the disproportion between subject and treatment) +is in the combination for the first time of satire with dialogue. + +One more step remained to be taken. In the piece called _A literary +Prometheus_, we are told what Lucian himself regarded as his claim to +the title of an original writer. It was the fusing of Comedy and +Dialogue—the latter being the prose conversation hat had hitherto been +confined to philosophical discussion. The new literary form, then, was +conversation, frankly for purposes of entertainment, as in Comedy, but +to be read and not acted. In this kind of writing he remains, though he +has been often imitated, first in merit as clearly as in time; and +nearly all his great masterpieces took this form. They followed in +rapid succession, being all written, perhaps, between 165 and 175 A.D. +And we make here no further comment upon them, except to remark that +they fall roughly into three groups as he drew inspiration successively +from the writers of the New Comedy (or Comedy of ordinary life) like +Menander, from the satires of Menippus, and from writers of the Old +Comedy (or Comedy of fantastic imagination) like Aristophanes. The best +specimens of the first group are _The Liar_ and the _Dialogues of the +Hetaerae;_ of the second, the _Dialogues of the Dead_ and _of the Gods, +Menippus_ and _Icaromenippus, Zeus cross-examined;_ of the third, +_Timon, Charon, A Voyage to the lower World, The Sale of Creeds, The +Fisher, Zeus Tragoedus, The Cock, The double Indictment, The Ship_. + +During these ten or more years, though he lived at Athens, he is to be +imagined travelling occasionally, to read his dialogues to audiences in +various cities, or to see the Olympic Games. And these excursions gave +occasion to some works not of the dialogue kind; the _Zeuxis_ and +several similar pieces are introductions to series of readings away +from Athens; The _Way to write History_, a piece of literary criticism +still very readable, if out of date for practical purposes, resulted +from a visit to Ionia, where all the literary men were producing +histories of the Parthian war, then in progress (165 A.D.). An +attendance at the Olympic Games of 169 A.D. suggested _The Death of +Peregrine_, which in its turn, through the offence given to Cynics, had +to be supplemented by the dialogue of _The Runaways. The True History_, +most famous, but, admirable as it is, far from best of his works, +presumably belongs to this period also, but cannot be definitely +placed. The _Book-fancier_ and _The Rhetorician's Vade mecum_ are +unpleasant records of bitter personal quarrels. + +After some ten years of this intense literary activity, producing, +reading, and publishing, Lucian seems to have given up both the writing +of dialogues and the presenting of them to audiences, and to have lived +quietly for many years. The only pieces that belong here are the _Life +of Demonax_, the man whom he held the best of all philosophers, and +with whom he had been long intimate at Athens, and that of Alexander, +the Asiatic charlatan, who was the prince of impostors as Demonax of +philosophers. When quite old, Lucian was appointed by the Emperor +Commodus to a well-paid legal post in Egypt. We also learn, from the +new introductory lectures called _Dionysus_ and _Heracles_, that he +resumed the practice of reading his dialogues; but he wrote nothing +more of importance. It is stated in Suidas that he was torn to pieces +by dogs; but, as other statements in the article are discredited, it is +supposed that this is the Christian revenge for Lucian's imaginary +hostility to Christianity. We have it from himself that he suffered +from gout in his old age. He solaced himself characteristically by +writing a play on the subject; but whether the goddess Gout, who gave +it its name, was appeased by it, or carried him off, we cannot tell. + +2. PROBABLE ORDER OF WRITINGS + +The received order in which Lucian's works stand is admitted to be +entirely haphazard. The following arrangement in groups is roughly +chronological, though it is quite possible that they overlap each +other. It is M. Croiset's, put into tabular form. Many details in it +are open to question; but to read in this order would at least be more +satisfactory to any one who wishes to study Lucian seriously than to +take the pieces as they come. The table will also serve as a rough +guide to the first-class and the inferior pieces. The names italicized +are those of pieces rejected as spurious by M. Croiset, and therefore +not placed by him; we have inserted them where they seem to belong; as +to their genuineness, it is our opinion that the objections made (not +by M. Croiset, who does not discuss authenticity) to the _Demosthenes_ +and _The Cynic_ at least are, in view of the merits of these, +unconvincing. + +(i) About 145 to 160 A.D. Lucian a rhetorician in Ionia, Greece, Italy, +and Gaul. + +The Tyrannicide, a rhetorical exercise. + +The Disinherited. + +Phalaris I & II. + +_Demosthenes_, a panegyric. + +Patriotism, an essay. + +The Fly, an essay. + +Swans and Amber, an introductory lecture. + +Dipsas, an introductory lecture. + +The Hall, an introductory lecture. + +Nigrinus, a dialogue on philosophy, 150 A.D. + +(ii) About 160 to 164 A.D. After Lucian's return to Asia. + +The Portrait-study, a panegyric in dialogue, 162 A.D. + +Defence of The Portrait-study, in dialogue. + +A Trial in the Court of Vowels, a _jeu d'esprit_. + +Hesiod, a short dialogue. + +The Vision, an autobiographical address. + +(iii) About 165 A.D. At Athens. + +Pantomime, art criticism in dialogue. + +Anacharsis, a dialogue on physical training. + +Toxaris, stories of friendship in dialogue. + +Slander, a moral essay. + +The Way to write History, an essay in literary criticism. + +The next eight groups, iv-xi, belong to the years from about 165 A.D. +to about 175 A.D., when Lucian was at his best and busiest; iv-ix are +to be regarded roughly as succeeding each other in time; x and xi being +independent in this respect. Pieces are assigned to groups mainly +according to their subjects; but some are placed in groups that do not +seem at first sight the most appropriate, owing to specialties in their +treatment; e.g. _The Ship_ might seem more in place with vii than with +ix; but M. Croiset finds in it a maturity that induces him to put it +later. + +(iv) About 165 A.D. + +Hermotimus, a philosophic dialogue. + +The Parasite, a parody of a philosophic dialogue. + +(v) Influence of the New Comedy writers. + +The Liar, a dialogue satirizing superstition. + +A Feast of Lapithae, a dialogue satirizing the manners of philosophers. + +Dialogues of the Hetaerae, a series of short dialogues. + +(vi) Influence of the Menippean satire. + +Dialogues of the Dead, a series of short dialogues. + +Dialogues of the Gods, a series of short dialogues. + +Dialogues of the Sea-Gods, a series of short dialogues. + +Menippus, a dialogue satirizing philosophy. + +Icaromenippus, a dialogue satirizing philosophy and religion. + +Zeus cross-examined, a dialogue satirizing religion. + +_The Cynic_, a dialogue against luxury. + +_Of Sacrifice_, an essay satirizing religion. + +Saturnalia, dialogue and letters on the relation of rich and poor. + +The True History, a parody of the old Greek historians, + +(vii) Influence of the Old Comedy writers: vanity of human wishes. + +A Voyage to the Lower World, a dialogue on the vanity of power. + +Charon, a dialogue on the vanity of all things. + +Timon, a dialogue on the vanity of riches. + +The Cock, a dialogue on the vanity of riches and power, + +(viii) Influence of the Old Comedy writers: dialogues satirizing +religion. + +Prometheus on Caucasus. + +Zeus Tragoedus. + +The Gods in Council. + +(ix) Influence of the Old Comedy writers: satire on philosophers. + +The Ship, a dialogue on foolish aspirations. + +The Life of Peregrine, a narrative satirizing the Cynics, 169 A.D. + +The Runaways, a dialogue satirizing the Cynics. + +The double Indictment, an autobiographic dialogue. + +The Sale of Creeds, a dialogue satirizing philosophers. + +The Fisher, an autobiographic dialogue satirizing philosophers. + +(x) 165-175 A.D. Introductory lectures. + +Herodotus. + +Zeuxis. + +Harmonides. + +The Scythian. + +A literary Prometheus. + +(xi) 165-175 A.D. Scattered pieces standing apart from the great +dialogue series, but written during the same period. + +The Book-fancier, an invective. About 170 A.D. + +_The Purist purized_, a literary satire in dialogue. + +Lexiphanes, a literary satire in dialogue. + +The Rhetorician's Vade-mecum, a personal satire. About 178 A.D. + +(xii) After 180 A.D. + +Demonax, a biography. + +Alexander, a satirical biography, + +(xiii) In old age. + +Mourning, an essay. + +Dionysus, an introductory lecture. + +Heracles, an introductory lecture. + +Apology for 'The dependent Scholar.' + +A Slip of the Tongue. + +In conclusion, we have to say that this arrangement of M. Croiset's, +which we have merely tabulated without intentionally departing from it +in any particular, seems to us well considered in its broad lines; +there are a few modifications which we should have been disposed to +make in it; but we thought it better to take it entire than to exercise +our own judgment in a matter where we felt very little confidence. + +3. CIRCUMSTANCES OF THE TIME + +'M. Aurelius has for us moderns this great superiority in interest over +Saint Louis or Alfred, that he lived and acted in a state of society +modern by its essential characteristics, in an epoch akin to our own, +in a brilliant centre of civilization. Trajan talks of "our enlightened +age" just as glibly as _The Times_ talks of it.' M. Arnold, _Essays in +Criticism, M. Aurelius_. + +The age of M. Aurelius is also the age of Lucian, and with any man of +that age who has, like these two, left us a still legible message we +can enter into quite different relations from those which are possible +with what M. Arnold calls in the same essay 'classical-dictionary +heroes.' A twentieth-century Englishman, a second-century Greek or +Roman, would be much more at home in each other's century, if they had +the gift of tongues, than in most of those which have intervened. It is +neither necessary nor possible to go deeply into the resemblance here +[Footnote: Some words of Sir Leslie Stephen's may be given, however, +describing the welter of religious opinions that prevailed at both +epochs: 'The analogy between the present age and that which witnessed +the introduction of Christianity is too striking to have been missed by +very many observers. The most superficial acquaintance with the general +facts shows how close a parallel might be drawn by a competent +historian. There are none of the striking manifestations of the present +day to which it would not be easy to produce an analogy, though in some +respects on a smaller scale. Now, as then, we can find mystical +philosophers trying to evolve a satisfactory creed by some process of +logical legerdemain out of theosophical moonshine; and amiable and +intelligent persons labouring hard to prove that the old mythology +could be forced to accept a rationalistic interpretation—whether in +regard to the inspection of entrails or prayers for fine weather; and +philosophers framing systems of morality entirely apart from the +ancient creeds, and sufficiently satisfactory to themselves, while +hopelessly incapable of impressing the popular mind; and politicians, +conscious that the basis of social order was being sapped by the decay +of the faith in which it had arisen, and therefore attempting the +impossible task of galvanizing dead creeds into a semblance of +vitality; and strange superstitions creeping out of their +lurking-places, and gaining influence in a luxurious society whose +intelligence was an ineffectual safeguard against the most grovelling +errors; and a dogged adherence of formalists and conservatives to +ancient ways, and much empty profession of barren orthodoxy; and, +beneath all, a vague disquiet, a breaking up of ancient social and +natural bonds, and a blind groping toward some more cosmopolitan creed +and some deeper satisfaction for the emotional needs of mankind.'—_The +Religion of all Sensible Men_ in _An Agnostic's Apology_, 1893.]; all +that need be done is to pass in review those points of it, some +important, and some trifling, which are sure to occur in a detached way +to readers of Lucian. + +The Graeco-Roman world was as settled and peaceful, as conscious of its +imperial responsibilities, as susceptible to boredom, as greedy of +amusement, could show as numerous a leisured class, and believed as +firmly in money, as our own. What is more important for our purpose, it +was questioning the truth of its religion as we are to-day questioning +the truth of ours. Lucian was the most vehement of the questioners. Of +what played the part then that the Christian religion plays now, the +pagan religion was only one half; the other half was philosophy. The +gods of Olympus had long lost their hold upon the educated, but not +perhaps upon the masses; the educated, ill content to be without any +guide through the maze of life, had taken to philosophy instead. +Stoicism was the prevalent creed, and how noble a form this could take +in a cultivated and virtuous mind is to be seen in the _Thoughts_ of M. +Aurelius. The test of a religion, however, is not what form it takes in +a virtuous mind, but what effects it produces on those of another sort. +Lucian applies the test of results alike to the religion usually so +called, and to its philosophic substitute. He finds both wanting; the +test is not a satisfactory one, but it is being applied by all sorts +and conditions of men to Christianity in our own time; so is the second +test, that of inherent probability, which he uses as well as the other +upon the pagan theology; and it is this that gives his writings, even +apart from their wit and fancy, a special interest for our own time. +Our attention seems to be concentrated more and more on the ethical, as +opposed to the speculative or dogmatic aspect of religion; just such +was Lucian's attitude towards philosophy. + +Some minor points of similarity may be briefly noted. As we read the +_Anacharsis_, we are reminded of the modern prominence of athletics; +the question of football _versus_ drill is settled for us; light is +thrown upon the question of conscription; we think of our Commissions +on national deterioration, and the schoolmaster's wail over the +athletic _Frankenstein's_ monster which, like _Eucrates_ in _The Liar_, +he has created but cannot control. The 'horsy talk in every street' of +the _Nigrinus_ calls up the London newsboy with his 'All the winners.' +We think of palmists and spiritualists in the police-courts as we read +of Rutilianus and the Roman nobles consulting the impostor Alexander. +This sentence reads like the description of a modern man of science +confronted with the supernatural: 'It was an occasion for a man whose +intelligence was steeled against such assaults by scepticism and +insight, one who, if he could not detect the precise imposture, would +at any rate have been perfectly certain that, though this escaped him, +the whole thing was a lie and an impossibility.' The upper-class +audiences who listened to Lucian's readings, taking his points with +quiet smiles instead of the loud applause given to the rhetorician, +must have been something like that which listens decorously to an +Extension lecturer. When Lucian bids us mark 'how many there are who +once were but cyphers, but whom words have raised to fame and opulence, +ay, and to noble lineage too,' we remember not only Gibbon's remark +about the very Herodes Atticus of whom Lucian may have been thinking +('The family of Herod, at least after it had been favoured by fortune, +was lineally descended from Cimon and Miltiades'), but also the modern +_carriere ouverte aux talents_, and the fact that Tennyson was a lord. +There are the elements of a socialist question in the feelings between +rich and poor described in the _Saturnalia_; while, on the other hand, +the fact of there being an audience for the _Dialogues of the Hetaerae_ +is an illustration of that spirit of _humani nihil a me alienum puto_ +which is again prevalent today. We care now to realize the thoughts of +other classes besides our own; so did they in Lucian's time; but it is +significant that Francklin in 1780, refusing to translate this series, +says: 'These dialogues exhibit to us only such kind of conversation as +we may hear in the purlieus of Covent Garden—lewd, dull, and insipid.' +The lewdness hardly goes beyond the title; they are full of humour and +insight; and we make no apology for translating most of them. Lastly, a +generation that is always complaining of the modern over-production of +books feels that it would be at home in a state of society in which our +author found that, not to be too singular, he must at least write about +writing history, if he declined writing it himself, even as Diogenes +took to rolling his tub, lest he should be the only idle man when +Corinth was bustling about its defences. + +As Lucian is so fond of saying, 'this is but a small selection of the +facts which might have been quoted' to illustrate the likeness between +our age and his. It may be well to allude, on the other hand, to a few +peculiarities of the time that appear conspicuously in his writings. + +The Roman Empire was rather Graeco-Roman than Roman; this is now a +commonplace. It is interesting to observe that for Lucian 'we' is on +occasion the Romans; 'we' is also everywhere the Greeks; while at the +same time 'I' is a barbarian and a Syrian. Roughly speaking, the Roman +element stands for energy, material progress, authority, and the Greek +for thought; the Roman is the British Philistine, the Greek the man of +culture. Lucian is conscious enough of the distinction, and there is no +doubt where his own preference lies. He may be a materialist, so far as +he is anything, in philosophy; but in practice he puts the things of +the mind before the things of the body. + +If our own age supplies parallels for most of what we meet with in the +second century, there are two phenomena which are to be matched rather +in an England that has passed away. The first is the Cynics, who swarm +in Lucian's pages like the begging friars in those of a historical +novelist painting the middle ages. Like the friars, they began nobly in +the desire for plain living and high thinking; in both cases the +thinking became plain, the living not perhaps high, but the best that +circumstances admitted of, and the class—with its numbers hugely +swelled by persons as little like their supposed teachers as a Marian +or Elizabethan persecutor was like the founder of Christianity—a pest +to society. Lucian's sympathy with the best Cynics, and detestation of +the worst, make Cynicism one of his most familiar themes. The second is +the class so vividly presented in _The dependent Scholar_—the indigent +learned Greek who looks about for a rich vulgar Roman to buy his +company, and finds he has the worst of the bargain. His successors, the +'trencher chaplains' who 'from grasshoppers turn bumble-bees and wasps, +plain parasites, and make the Muses mules, to satisfy their +hunger-starved panches, and get a meal's meat,' were commoner in +Burton's days than in our own, and are to be met in Fielding, and +Macaulay, and Thackeray. + +Two others of Lucian's favourite figures, the parasite and the +legacy-hunter, exist still, no doubt, as they are sure to in every +complex civilization; but their operations are now conducted with more +regard to the decencies. This is worth remembering when we are +occasionally offended by his frankness on subjects to which we are not +accustomed to allude; he is not an unclean or a sensual writer, but the +waters of decency have risen since his time and submerged some things +which were then visible. + +A slight prejudice, again, may sometimes be aroused by Lucian's trick +of constant and trivial quotation; he would rather put the simplest +statement, or even make his transition from one subject to another, in +words of Homer than in his own; we have modern writers too who show the +same tendency, and perhaps we like or dislike them for it in proportion +as their allusions recall memories or merely puzzle us; we cannot all +be expected to have agreeable memories stirred by insignificant Homer +tags; and it is well to bear in mind by way of palliation that in Greek +education Homer played as great a part as the Bible in ours. He might +be taken simply or taken allegorically; but one way or the other he was +the staple of education, and it might be assumed that every one would +like the mere sound of him. + +We may end by remarking that the public readings of his own works, to +which the author makes frequent reference, were what served to a great +extent the purpose of our printing-press. We know that his pieces were +also published; but the public that could be reached by hand-written +copies would bear a very small proportion to that which heard them from +the writer's own lips; and though the modern system may have the +advantage on the whole, it is hard to believe that the unapproached +life and naturalness of Lucian's dialogue does not owe something to +this necessity. + +4. LUCIAN AS A WRITER + +With all the sincerity of Lucian in _The True History_, 'soliciting his +reader's incredulity,' we solicit our reader's neglect of this +appreciation. We have no pretensions whatever to the critical faculty; +the following remarks are to be taken as made with diffidence, and +offered to those only who prefer being told what to like, and why, to +settling the matter for themselves. + +Goethe, aged fourteen, with seven languages on hand, devised the plan +of a correspondence kept up by seven imaginary brothers scattered over +the globe, each writing in the language of his adopted land. The +stay-at-home in Frankfort was to write Jew-German, for which purpose +some Hebrew must be acquired. His father sent him to Rector Albrecht. +The rector was always found with one book open before him—a +well-thumbed Lucian. But the Hebrew vowel-points were perplexing, and +the boy found better amusement in putting shrewd questions on what +struck him as impossibilities or inconsistencies in the Old-Testament +narrative they were reading. The old gentleman was infinitely amused, +had fits of mingled coughing and laughter, but made little attempt at +solving his pupil's difficulties, beyond ejaculating _Er narrischer +Kerl! Er narrischer Junge_! He let him dig for solutions, however, in +an English commentary on the shelves, and occupied the time with +turning the familiar pages of his Lucian [Footnote: _Wahrheit und +Dichtung_, book iv. ]. The wicked old rector perhaps chuckled to think +that here was one who bade fair to love Lucian one day as well as he +did himself. + +For Lucian too was one who asked questions—spent his life doing little +else; if one were invited to draw him with the least possible +expenditure of ink, one's pen would trace a mark of interrogation. That +picture is easily drawn; to put life into it is a more difficult +matter. However, his is not a complex character, for all the irony in +which he sometimes chooses to clothe his thought; and materials are at +least abundant; he is one of the self-revealing fraternity; his own +personal presence is to be detected more often than not in his work. He +may give us the assistance, or he may not, of labelling a character +_Lucian_ or _Lycinus_; we can detect him, _volentes volentem_, under +the thin disguise of _Menippus_ or _Tychiades_ or _Cyniscus_ as well. +And the essence of him as he reveals himself is the questioning spirit. +He has no respect for authority. Burke describes the majority of +mankind, who do not form their own opinions, as 'those whom Providence +has doomed to live on trust'; Lucian entirely refuses to live on trust; +he 'wants to know.' It was the wish of _Arthur Clennam_, who had in +consequence a very bad name among the _Tite Barnacles_ and other +persons in authority. Lucian has not escaped the same fate; 'the +scoffer Lucian' has become as much a commonplace as '_fidus Achates_,' +or 'the well-greaved Achaeans,' the reading of him has been +discountenanced, and, if he has not actually lost his place at the +table of Immortals, promised him when he temporarily left the Island of +the Blest, it has not been so 'distinguished' a place as it was to have +been and should have been. And all because he 'wanted to know.' + +His questions, of course, are not all put in the same manner. In the +_Dialogues of the Gods_, for instance, the mark of interrogation is not +writ large; they have almost the air at first of little stories in +dialogue form, which might serve to instruct schoolboys in the +attributes and legends of the gods—a manual charmingly done, yet a +manual only. But we soon see that he has said to himself: Let us put +the thing into plain natural prose, and see what it looks like with its +glamour of poetry and reverence stripped off; the Gods do human things; +why not represent them as human persons, and see what results? What did +result was that henceforth any one who still believed in the pagan +deities might at the cost of an hour's light reading satisfy himself +that his gods were not gods, or, if they were, had no business to be. +Whether many or few did so read and so satisfy themselves, we have no +means of knowing; it is easy to over-estimate the effect such writing +may have had, and to forget that those who were capable of being +convinced by exposition of this sort would mostly be those who were +already convinced without; still, so far as Lucian had any effect on +the religious position, it must have been in discrediting paganism and +increasing the readiness to accept the new faith beginning to make its +way. Which being so, it was ungrateful of the Christian church to turn +and rend him. It did so, partly in error. Lucian had referred in the +_Life of Peregrine_ to the Christians, in words which might seem +irreverent to Christians at a time when they were no longer an obscure +sect; he had described and ridiculed in _The Liar_ certain 'Syrian' +miracles which have a remarkable likeness to the casting out of spirits +by Christ and the apostles; and worse still, the _Philopatris_ passed +under his name. This dialogue, unlike what Lucian had written in the +_Peregrine_ and _The Liar_, is a deliberate attack on Christianity. It +is clear to us now that it was written two hundred years after his +time, under Julian the Apostate; but there can be no more doubt of its +being an imitation of Lucian than of its not being his; it consequently +passed for his, the story gained currency that he was an apostate +himself, and his name was anathema for the church. It was only partly +in error, however. Though Lucian might be useful on occasion ('When +Tertullian or Lactantius employ their labours in exposing the falsehood +and extravagance of Paganism, they are obliged to transcribe the +eloquence of Cicero or the wit of Lucian' [Footnote: Gibbon, _Decline +and Fall_, cap. xv.]), the very word heretic is enough to remind us +that the Church could not show much favour to one who insisted always +on thinking for himself. His works survived, but he was not read, +through the Middle Ages. With the Renaissance he partly came into his +own again, but still laboured under the imputations of scoffing and +atheism, which confined the reading of him to the few. + +The method followed in the _Dialogues of the Gods_ and similar pieces +is a very indirect way of putting questions. It is done much more +directly in others, the _Zeus cross-examined_, for instance. Since the +fallen angels + + reasoned high + Of Providence, Foreknowledge, Will, and Fate— + Fixed fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute— + And found no end, in wandering mazes lost, + + +these subjects have had their share of attention; but the questions can +hardly be put more directly, or more neatly, than in the _Zeus +cross-examined_, and the thirtieth _Dialogue of the Dead_. + +He has many other interrogative methods besides these, which may be +left to reveal themselves in the course of reading. As for answering +questions, that is another matter. The answer is sometimes apparent, +sometimes not; he will not refrain from asking a question just because +he does not know the answer; his _role_ is asking, not answering. Nor +when he gives an answer is it always certain whether it is to be taken +in earnest. Was he a cynic? one would say so after reading _The Cynic_; +was he an Epicurean? one would say so after reading the _Alexander_; +was he a philosopher? one would say Yes at a certain point of the +_Hermotimus_, No at another. He doubtless had his moods, and he was +quite unhampered by desire for any consistency except consistent +independence of judgement. Moreover, the difficulty of getting at his +real opinions is increased by the fact that he was an ironist. We have +called him a self-revealer; but you never quite know where to have an +ironical self-revealer. Goethe has the useful phrase, 'direct irony'; a +certain German writer 'makes too free a use of direct irony, praising +the blameworthy and blaming the praiseworthy—a rhetorical device which +should be very sparingly employed. In the long run it disgusts the +sensible and misleads the dull, pleasing only the great intermediate +class to whom it offers the satisfaction of being able to think +themselves more shrewd than other people, without expending much +thought of their own' (_Wahrheit und Dichtung_, book vii). Fielding +gives us in _Jonathan Wild_ a sustained piece of 'direct irony'; you +have only to reverse everything said, and you get the author's meaning. +Lucian's irony is not of that sort; you cannot tell when you are to +reverse him, only that you will have sometimes to do so. He does use +the direct kind; _The Rhetorician's Vade mecum_ and _The Parasite_ are +examples; the latter is also an example (unless a translator, who is +condemned not to skip or skim, is an unfair judge) of how tiresome it +may become. But who shall say how much of irony and how much of genuine +feeling there is in the fine description of the philosophic State given +in the _Hermotimus_ (with its suggestions of _Christian_ in _The +Pilgrim's Progress_, and of the 'not many wise men after the flesh, not +many mighty, not many noble'), or in the whimsical extravagance (as it +strikes a modern) of the _Pantomime_, or in the triumph permitted to +the Cynic (against 'Lycinus' too) in the dialogue called after him? In +one of his own introductory lectures he compares his pieces aptly +enough to the bacchante's thyrsus with its steel point concealed. + +With his questions and his irony and his inconsistencies, it is no +wonder that Lucian is accused of being purely negative and destructive. +But we need not think he is disposed of in that way, any more than our +old-fashioned literary education is disposed of when it has been +pointed out that it does not equip its _alumni_ with knowledge of +electricity or of a commercially useful modern language; it may have +equipped them with something less paying, but more worth paying for. +Lucian, it is certain, will supply no one with a religion or a +philosophy; but it may be doubted whether any writer will supply more +fully both example and precept in favour of doing one's thinking for +oneself; and it may be doubted also whether any other intellectual +lesson is more necessary. He is _nullius addictus iurare in verba +magistri_, if ever man was; he is individualist to the core. No +religion or philosophy, he seems to say, will save you; the thing is to +think for yourself, and be a man of sense. 'It was but small +consolation,' says _Menippus_, 'to reflect that I was in numerous and +wise and eminently sensible company, if I was a fool still, all astray +in my quest for truth.' _Vox populi_ is no _vox dei_ for him; he is +quite proof against majorities; _Athanasius contra mundum_ is more to +his taste. "What is this I hear?" asked Arignotus, scowling upon me; +"you deny the existence of the supernatural, when there is scarcely a +man who has not seen some evidence of it?" "Therein lies my +exculpation," I replied; "I do not believe in the supernatural, +because, unlike the rest of mankind, I do not see it; if I saw, I +should doubtless believe, just as you all do."' That British schoolboys +should have been brought up for centuries on Ovid, and Lucian have been +tabooed, is, in view of their comparative efficacy in stimulating +thought, an interesting example of _habent sua fata libelli_. + +It need not be denied that there is in him a certain lack of feeling, +not surprising in one of his analytic temper, but not agreeable either. +He is a hard bright intelligence, with no bowels; he applies the knife +without the least compunction—indeed with something of savage +enjoyment. The veil is relentlessly torn from family affection in the +_Mourning_. _Solon_ in the _Charon_ pursues his victory so far as to +make us pity instead of scorning _Croesus_. _Menippus_ and his kind, in +the shades, do their lashing of dead horses with a disagreeable gusto, +which tempts us to raise a society for the prevention of cruelty to the +Damned. A voyage through Lucian in search of pathos will yield as +little result as one in search of interest in nature. There is a touch +of it here and there (which has probably evaporated in translation) in +the _Hermotimus_, the _Demonax_, and the _Demosthenes_; but that is +all. He was perhaps not unconscious of all this himself. 'But what is +your profession?' asks _Philosophy_. 'I profess hatred of imposture and +pretension, lying and pride… However, I do not neglect the +complementary branch, in which love takes the place of hate; it +includes love of truth and beauty and simplicity, and all that is akin +to love. _But the subjects for this branch of the profession are sadly +few_.' + +Before going on to his purely literary qualities, we may collect here a +few detached remarks affecting rather his character than his skill as +an artist. And first of his relations to philosophy. The statements in +the _Menippus_ and the _Icaromenippus_, as well as in _The Fisher_ and +_The double Indictment_, have all the air of autobiography (especially +as they are in the nature of digressions), and give us to understand +that he had spent much time and energy on philosophic study. He claims +_Philosophy_ as his mistress in _The Fisher_, and in a case where he is +in fact judge as well as party, has no difficulty in getting his claim +established. He is for ever reminding us that he loves philosophy and +only satirizes the degenerate philosophers of his day. But it _will_ +occur to us after reading him through that he has dissembled his love, +then, very well. There is not a passage from beginning to end of his +works that indicates any real comprehension of any philosophic system. +The external characteristics of the philosophers, the absurd stories +current about them, and the popular misrepresentations of their +doctrines—it is in these that philosophy consists for him. That he had +read some of them there is no doubt; but one has an uneasy suspicion +that he read Plato because he liked his humour and his style, and did +not trouble himself about anything further. Gibbon speaks of 'the +philosophic maze of the writings of Plato, of which the dramatic is +perhaps more interesting than the argumentative part.' That is quite a +legitimate opinion, provided you do not undertake to judge philosophy +in the light of it. The apparently serious rejection of geometrical +truth in the _Hermotimus_ may fairly suggest that Lucian was as +unphilosophic as he was unmathematical. Twice, and perhaps twice only, +does he express hearty admiration for a philosopher. Demonax is 'the +best of all philosophers'; but then he admired him just because he was +so little of a philosopher and so much a man of ordinary common sense. +And Epicurus is 'the thinker who had grasped the nature of things and +been in solitary possession of truth'; but then that is in the +_Alexander_, and any stick was good enough to beat that dog with. The +fact is, Lucian was much too well satisfied with his own judgement to +think that he could possibly require guidance, and the commonplace test +of results was enough to assure him that philosophy was worthless: 'It +is no use having all theory at your fingers' ends, if you do not +conform your conduct to the right.' There is a description in the +_Pantomime_ that is perhaps truer than it is meant to pass for. +'Lycinus' is called 'an educated man, and _in some sort_ a student of +philosophy.' + +If he is not a philosopher, he is very much a moralist; it is because +philosophy deals partly with morals that he thinks he cares for it. But +here too his conclusions are of a very commonsense order. The Stoic +notion that 'Virtue consists in being uncomfortable' strikes him as +merely absurd; no asceticism for him; on the other hand, no lavish +extravagance and _Persici apparatus_; a dinner of herbs with the +righteous—that is, the cultivated Athenian—, a neat repast of Attic +taste, is honestly his idea of good living; it is probable that he +really did sacrifice both money and fame to live in Athens rather than +in Rome, according to his own ideal. That ideal is a very modest one; +when _Menippus_ took all the trouble to get down to Tiresias in Hades +via Babylon, his reward was the information that 'the life of the +ordinary man is the best and the most prudent choice.' So thought +Lucian; and it is to be counted to him for righteousness that he +decided to abandon 'the odious practices that his profession imposes on +the advocate—deceit, falsehood, bluster, clamour, pushing,' for the +quiet life of a literary man (especially as we should probably never +have heard his name had he done otherwise). Not that the life was so +quiet as it might have been. He could not keep his satire impersonal +enough to avoid incurring enmities. He boasts in the _Peregrine_ of the +unfeeling way in which he commented on that enthusiast to his +followers, and we may believe his assurance that his writings brought +general dislike and danger upon him. His moralizing (of which we are +happy to say there is a great deal) is based on Tiresias's +pronouncement. Moralizing has a bad name; but than good moralizing +there is, when one has reached a certain age perhaps, no better +reading. Some of us like it even in our novels, feel more at home with +Fielding and Thackeray for it, and regretfully confess ourselves +unequal to the artistic aloofness of a Flaubert. Well, Lucian's +moralizings are, for those who like such things, of the right quality; +they are never dull, and the touch is extremely light. We may perhaps +be pardoned for alluding to half a dozen conceptions that have a +specially modern air about them. The use that Rome may serve as a +school of resistance to temptation (_Nigrinus_, 19) recalls Milton's +'fugitive and cloistered virtue, unexercised and unbreathed, that never +sallies out and seeks her adversary.' 'Old age is wisdom's youth, the +day of her glorious flower' (_Heracles_, 8) might have stood as a text +for Browning's _Rabbi ben Ezra_. The brands visible on the tyrant's +soul, and the refusal of Lethe as a sufficient punishment (_Voyage to +the lower World_, 24 and 28), have their parallels in our new +eschatology. The decision of _Zeus_ that _Heraclitus_ and _Democritus_ +are to be one lot that laughter and tears will go together (_Sale of +Creeds_, l3)—accords with our views of the emotional temperament. +_Chiron_ is impressive on the vanity of fruition (_Dialogues of the +Dead_, 26). And the figuring of _Truth_ as 'the shadowy creature with +the indefinite complexion' (_The Fisher_, 16) is only one example of +Lucian's felicity in allegory. + +Another weak point, for which many people will have no more inclination +to condemn him than for his moralizing, is his absolute indifference to +the beauties of nature. Having already given him credit for regarding +nothing that is human as beyond his province, it is our duty to record +the corresponding limitation; of everything that was not human he was +simply unconscious; with him it was not so much that the _proper_ as +that the _only_ study of mankind is man. The apparent exceptions are +not real ones. If he is interested in the gods, it is as the creatures +of human folly that he takes them to be. If he writes a toy essay with +much parade of close observation on the fly, it is to show how amusing +human ingenuity can be on an unlikely subject. But it is worth notice +that 'the first of the moderns,' though he shows himself in many +descriptions of pictures quite awake to the beauty manufactured by man, +has in no way anticipated the modern discovery that nature is +beautiful. To readers who have had enough of the pathetic fallacy, and +of the second-rate novelist's local colour, Lucian's tacit assumption +that there is nothing but man is refreshing. That he was a close enough +observer of human nature, any one can satisfy himself by glancing at +the _Feast of Lapithae_, the _Dialogues of the Hetaerae_, some of the +_Dialogues of the Gods_, and perhaps best of all, _The Liar_. + +As it occurs to himself to repel the imputation of plagiarism in _A +literary Prometheus_, the point must be briefly touched upon. There is +no doubt that Homer preceded him in making the gods extremely, even +comically, human, that Plato showed him an example of prose dialogue, +that Aristophanes inspired his constructive fancy, that Menippus +provided him with some ideas, how far developed on the same lines we +cannot now tell, that Menander's comedies and Herodas's mimes +contributed to the absolute naturalness of his conversation. If any, or +almost any, of these had never existed, Lucian would have been more or +less different from what he is. His originality is not in the least +affected by that; we may resolve him theoretically into his elements; +but he too had the gift, that out of three sounds he framed, not a +fourth sound, but a star. The question of his originality is no more +important—indeed much less so—than that of Sterne's. + +When we pass to purely literary matters, the first thing to be remarked +upon is the linguistic miracle presented to us. It is useless to dwell +upon it in detail, since this is an introduction not to Lucian, but to +a translation of Lucian; it exists, none the less. A Syrian writes in +Greek, and not in the Greek of his own time, but in that of five or six +centuries before, and he does it, if not with absolute correctness, yet +with the easy mastery that we expect only from one in a million of +those who write in their mother tongue, and takes his place as an +immortal classic. The miracle may be repeated; an English-educated +Hindu may produce masterpieces of Elizabethan English that will rank +him with Bacon and Ben Jonson; but it will surprise us, when it does +happen. That Lucian was himself aware of the awful dangers besetting +the writer who would revive an obsolete fashion of speech is shown in +the _Lexiphanes_. + +Some faults of style he undoubtedly has, of which a word or two should +perhaps be said. The first is the general taint of rhetoric, which is +sometimes positively intolerable, and is liable to spoil enjoyment even +of the best pieces occasionally. Were it not that 'Rhetoric made a +Greek of me,' we should wish heartily that he had never been a +rhetorician. It is the practice of talking on unreal cases, doubtless +habitual with him up to forty, that must be responsible for the +self-satisfied fluency, the too great length, and the perverse +ingenuity, that sometimes excite our impatience. Naturally, it is in +the pieces of inferior subject or design that this taint is most +perceptible; and it must be forgiven in consideration of the fact that +without the toilsome study of rhetoric he would not have been the +master of Greek that he was. + +The second is perhaps only a special case of the first. Julius Pollux, +a sophist whom Lucian is supposed to have attacked in _The +Rhetorician's Vade mecum_, is best known as author of an _Onomasticon_, +or word-list, containing the most important words relating to certain +subjects. One would be reluctant to believe that Lucian condescended to +use his enemy's manual; but it is hard to think that he had not one of +his own, of which he made much too good use. The conviction is +constantly forced on a translator that when Lucian has said a thing +sufficiently once, he has looked at his Onomasticon, found that there +are some words he has not yet got in, and forthwith said the thing +again with some of them, and yet again with the rest. + +The third concerns his use of illustrative anecdotes, comparisons, and +phrases. It is true that, if his pieces are taken each separately, he +is most happy with all these (though it is hard to forgive Alexander's +bathe in the Cydnus with which _The Hall_ opens); but when they are +read continuously, the repeated appearances of the tragic actor +disrobed, the dancing apes and their nuts, of Zeus's golden cord, and +of the 'two octaves apart,' produce an impression of poverty that makes +us momentarily forget his real wealth. + +We have spoken of the annoying tendency to pleonasm in Lucian's style, +which must be laid at the door of rhetoric. On the other hand let it +have part of the credit for a thing of vastly more importance, his +choice of dialogue as a form when he took to letters. It is quite +obvious that he was naturally a man of detached mind, with an +inclination for looking at both sides of a question. This was no doubt +strengthened by the common practice among professional rhetoricians of +writing speeches on both sides of imaginary cases. The level-headedness +produced by this combination of nature and training naturally led to +the selection of dialogue. In one of the preliminary trials of _The +double Indictment, Drink_, being one of the parties, and consciously +incapable at the moment of doing herself justice, employs her opponent, +_The Academy_, to plead for as well as against her. There are a good +many pieces in which Lucian follows the same method. In _The Hall_ the +legal form is actually kept; in the _Peregrine_ speeches are delivered +by an admirer and a scorner of the hero; in _The Rhetorician's Vade +mecum_ half the piece is an imaginary statement of the writer's enemy; +in the _Apology for 'The dependent Scholar'_ there is a long imaginary +objection set up to be afterwards disposed of; the _Saturnalian +Letters_ are the cases of rich and poor put from opposite sides. None +of these are dialogues; but they are all less perfect devices to secure +the same object, the putting of the two views that the man of detached +mind recognizes on every question. Not that justice is always the +object; these devices, and dialogue still more, offer the further +advantage of economy; no ideas need be wasted, if the subject is +treated from more than one aspect. The choice of dialogue may be +accounted for thus; it is true that it would not have availed much if +the chooser had not possessed the nimble wit and the endless power of +varying the formula which is so astonishing in Lucian; but that it was +a matter of importance is proved at once by comparing the _Alexander_ +with _The Liar_, or _The dependent Scholar_ with the _Feast of +Lapithae_. Lucian's non-dialogue pieces (with the exception of _The +True History_) might have been written by other people; the dialogues +are all his own. + +About five-and-thirty of his pieces (or sets of pieces) are in +dialogue, and perhaps the greatest proof of his artistic skill is that +the form never palls; so great is the variety of treatment that no one +of them is like another. The point may be worth dwelling on a little. +The main differences between dialogues, apart from the particular +writer's characteristics, are these: the persons may be two only, or +more; they may be well or ill-matched; the proportions and relations +between conversation and narrative vary; and the objects in view are +not always the same. It is natural for a writer to fall into a groove +with some or all of these, and produce an effect of sameness. Lucian, +on the contrary, so rings the changes by permutations and combinations +of them that each dialogue is approached with a delightful uncertainty +of what form it may take. As to number of persons, it is a long step +from the _Menippus_ to the crowded _dramatis personae_ of _The Fisher_ +or the _Zeus Tragoedus_, in the latter of which there are two +independent sets, one overhearing and commenting upon the other. It is +not much less, though of another kind, from _The Parasite_, where the +interlocutor is merely a man of straw, to the _Hermotimus_, where he +has life enough to give us ever fresh hopes of a change in fortune, or +to the _Anacharsis_, where we are not quite sure, even when all is +over, which has had the best. Then if we consider conversation and +narrative, there are all kinds. _Nigrinus_ has narrative in a setting +of dialogue, _Demosthenes_ vice versa, _The Liar_ reported dialogue +inside dialogue; _Icaromenippus_ is almost a narrative, while _The +Runaways_ is almost a play. Lastly, the form serves in the _Toxaris_ as +a vehicle for stories, in the _Hermotimus_ for real discussion, in +_Menippus_ as relief for narrative, in the _Portrait-study_ for +description, in _The Cock_ to convey moralizing, in _The double +Indictment_ autobiography, in the _Lexiphanes_ satire, and in the short +series it enshrines prose idylls. + +These are considerations of a mechanical order, perhaps; it may be +admitted that technical skill of this sort is only valuable in giving a +proper chance to more essential gifts; but when those exist, it is of +the highest value. And Lucian's versatility in technique is only a +symbol of his versatile powers in general. He is equally at home in +heaven and earth and hell, with philosophers and cobblers, telling a +story, criticizing a book, describing a picture, elaborating an +allegory, personifying an abstraction, parodying a poet or a historian, +flattering an emperor's mistress, putting an audience into good temper +with him and itself, unveiling an imposture, destroying a religion or a +reputation, drawing a character. The last is perhaps the most +disputable of the catalogue. How many of his personages are realities +to us when we have read, and not mere labels for certain modes of +thought or conduct? Well, characterization is not the first, but only +the second thing with him; what is said matters rather more than who +says it; he is more desirous that the argument should advance than that +the person should reveal himself; nevertheless, nothing is ever said +that is out of character; while nothing can be better of the kind than +some of his professed personifications, his _Plutus_ or his +_Philosophy_, we do retain distinct impressions of at least an +irresponsible _Zeus_ and a decorously spiteful _Hera_, a well-meaning, +incapable _Helius_, a bluff _Posidon_, a gallant _Prometheus_, a +one-idea'd _Charon_; _Timon_ is more than misanthropy, _Eucrates_ than +superstition, _Anacharsis_ than intelligent curiosity, _Micyllus_ than +ignorant poverty, poor _Hermotimus_ than blind faith, and Lucian than a +scoffer. + + + +THE WORKS OF LUCIAN + + + +THE VISION + +A CHAPTER OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY + + +When my childhood was over, and I had just left school, my father +called a council to decide upon my profession. Most of his friends +considered that the life of culture was very exacting in toil, time, +and money: a life only for fortune's favourites; whereas our resources +were quite narrow, and urgently called for relief. If I were to take up +some ordinary handicraft, I should be making my own living straight +off, instead of eating my father's meat at my age; and before long my +earnings would be a welcome contribution. + +So the next step was to select the most satisfactory of the +handicrafts; it must be one quite easy to acquire, respectable, +inexpensive as regards plant, and fairly profitable. Various +suggestions were made, according to the taste and knowledge of the +councillors; but my father turned to my mother's brother, supposed to +be an excellent statuary, and said to him: 'With you here, it would be +a sin to prefer any other craft; take the lad, regard him as your +charge, teach him to handle, match, and grave your marble; he will do +well enough; you know he has the ability.' This he had inferred from +certain tricks I used to play with wax. When I got out of school, I +used to scrape off the wax from my tablets and work it into cows, +horses, or even men and women, and he thought I did it creditably; my +masters used to cane me for it, but on this occasion it was taken as +evidence of a natural faculty, and my modelling gave them good hopes of +my picking up the art quickly. + +As soon as it seemed convenient for me to begin, I was handed over to +my uncle, and by no means reluctantly; I thought I should find it +amusing, and be in a position to impress my companions; they should see +me chiselling gods and making little images for myself and my +favourites. The usual first experience of beginners followed: my uncle +gave me a chisel, and told me to give a gentle touch to a plaque lying +on the bench: 'Well begun is half done,' said he, not very originally. +In my inexperience I brought down the tool too hard, and the plaque +broke; he flew into a rage, picked up a stick which lay handy, and gave +me an introduction to art which might have been gentler and more +encouraging; so I paid my footing with tears. + +I ran off, and reached home still howling and tearful, told the story +of the stick, and showed my bruises. I said a great deal about his +brutality, and added that it was all envy: he was afraid of my being a +better sculptor than he. My mother was very angry, and abused her +brother roundly; as for me, I fell asleep that night with my eyes still +wet, and sorrow was with me till the morning. + +So much of my tale is ridiculous and childish. What you have now to +hear, gentlemen, is not so contemptible, but deserves an attentive +hearing; in the words of Homer, + + To me in slumber wrapt a dream divine + Ambrosial night conveyed, + + +a dream so vivid as to be indistinguishable from reality; after all +these years, I have still the figures of its persons in my eyes, the +vibration of their words in my ears; so clear it all was. + +Two women had hold of my hands, and were trying vehemently and +persistently to draw me each her way; I was nearly pulled in two with +their contention; now one would prevail and all but get entire +possession of me, now I would fall to the other again, All the time +they were exchanging loud protests: 'He is mine, and I mean to keep +him;' 'Not yours at all, and it is no use your saying he is.' One of +them seemed to be a working woman, masculine looking, with untidy hair, +horny hands, and dress kilted up; she was all powdered with plaster, +like my uncle when he was chipping marble. The other had a beautiful +face, a comely figure, and neat attire. At last they invited me to +decide which of them I would live with; the rough manly one made her +speech first. + +'Dear youth, I am Statuary—the art which you yesterday began to learn, +and which has a natural and a family claim upon you. Your grandfather' +(naming my mother's father) 'and both your uncles practised it, and it +brought them credit. If you will turn a deaf ear to this person's +foolish cajolery, and come and live with me, I promise you wholesome +food and good strong muscles; you shall never fear envy, never leave +your country and your people to go wandering abroad, and you shall be +commended not for your words, but for your works. + +'Let not a slovenly person or dirty clothes repel you; such were the +conditions of that Phidias who produced the Zeus, of Polyclitus who +created the Hera, of the much-lauded Myron, of the admired Praxiteles; +and all these are worshipped with the Gods. If you should come to be +counted among them, you will surely have fame enough for yourself +through all the world, you will make your father the envy of all +fathers, and bring your country to all men's notice.' This and more +said Statuary, stumbling along in a strange jargon, stringing her +arguments together in a very earnest manner, and quite intent on +persuading me. But I can remember no more; the greater part of it has +faded from my memory. When she stopped, the other's turn came. + +'And I, child, am Culture, no stranger to you even now, though you have +yet to make my closer acquaintance. The advantages that the profession +of a sculptor will bring with it you have just been told; they amount +to no more than being a worker with your hands, your whole prospects in +life limited to that; you will be obscure, poorly and illiberally paid, +mean-spirited, of no account outside your doors; your influence will +never help a friend, silence an enemy, nor impress your countrymen; you +will be just a worker, one of the masses, cowering before the +distinguished, truckling to the eloquent, living the life of a hare, a +prey to your betters. You may turn out a Phidias or a Polyclitus, to be +sure, and create a number of wonderful works; but even so, though your +art will be generally commended, no sensible observer will be found to +wish himself like you; whatever your real qualities, you will always +rank as a common craftsman who makes his living with his hands. + +'Be governed by me, on the other hand, and your first reward shall be a +view of the many wondrous deeds and doings of the men of old; you shall +hear their words and know them all, what manner of men they were; and +your soul, which is your very self, I will adorn with many fair +adornments, with self-mastery and justice and reverence and mildness, +with consideration and understanding and fortitude, with love of what +is beautiful, and yearning for what is great; these things it is that +are the true and pure ornaments of the soul. Naught shall escape you +either of ancient wisdom or of present avail; nay, the future too, with +me to aid, you shall foresee; in a word, I will instill into you, and +that in no long time, all knowledge human and divine. + +'This penniless son of who knows whom, contemplating but now a vocation +so ignoble, shall soon be admired and envied of all, with honour and +praise and the fame of high achievement, respected by the high-born and +the affluent, clothed as I am clothed' (and here she pointed to her own +bright raiment), 'held worthy of place and precedence; and if you leave +your native land, you will be no unknown nameless wanderer; you shall +wear my marks upon you, and every man beholding you shall touch his +neighbour's arm and say, That is he. + +'And if some great moment come to try your friends or country, then +shall all look to you. And to your lightest word the many shall listen +open-mouthed, and marvel, and count you happy in your eloquence, and +your father in his son. 'Tis said that some from mortal men become +immortal; and I will make it truth in you; for though you depart from +life yourself, you shall keep touch with the learned and hold communion +with the best. Consider the mighty Demosthenes, whose son he was, and +whither I exalted him; consider Aeschines; how came a Philip to pay +court to the cymbal-woman's brat? how but for my sake? Dame Statuary +here had the breeding of Socrates himself; but no sooner could he +discern the better part, than he deserted her and enlisted with me; +since when, his name is on every tongue. + +'You may dismiss all these great men, and with them all glorious deeds, +majestic words, and seemly looks, all honour, repute, praise, +precedence, power, and office, all lauded eloquence and envied wisdom; +these you may put from you, to gird on a filthy apron and assume a +servile guise; then will you handle crowbars and graving tools, mallets +and chisels; you will be bowed over your work, with eyes and thoughts +bent earthwards, abject as abject can be, with never a free and manly +upward look or aspiration; all your care will be to proportion and +fairly drape your works; to proportioning and adorning yourself you +will give little heed enough, making yourself of less account than your +marble.' + +I waited not for her to bring her words to an end, but rose up and +spoke my mind; I turned from that clumsy mechanic woman, and went +rejoicing to lady Culture, the more when I thought upon the stick, and +all the blows my yesterday's apprenticeship had brought me. For a time +the deserted one was wroth, with clenched fists and grinding teeth; but +at last she stiffened, like another Niobe, into marble. A strange fate, +but I must request your belief; dreams are great magicians, are they +not? + +Then the other looked upon me and spoke:—'For this justice done me,' +said she, 'you shall now be recompensed; come, mount this car'—and lo, +one stood ready, drawn by winged steeds like Pegasus—, 'that you may +learn what fair sights another choice would have cost you.' We mounted, +she took the reins and drove, and I was carried aloft and beheld towns +and nations and peoples from the East to the West; and methought I was +sowing like Triptolemus; but the nature of the seed I cannot call to +mind—only this, that men on earth when they saw it gave praise, and all +whom I reached in my flight sent me on my way with blessings. + +When she had presented these things to my eyes, and me to my admirers, +she brought me back, no more clad as when my flight began; I returned, +methought, in glorious raiment. And finding my father where he stood +waiting, she showed him my raiment, and the guise in which I came, and +said a word to him upon the lot which they had come so near appointing +for me. All this I saw when scarce out of my childhood; the confusion +and terror of the stick, it may be, stamped it on my memory. + +'Good gracious,' says some one, before I have done, 'what a longwinded +lawyer's vision!' 'This,' interrupts another, 'must be a winter dream, +to judge by the length of night required; or perhaps it took three +nights, like the making of Heracles. What has come over him, that he +babbles such puerilities? memorable things indeed, a child in bed, and +a very ancient, worn-out dream! what stale frigid stuff! does he take +us for interpreters of dreams?' Sir, I do not. When Xenophon related +that vision of his which you all know, of his father's house on fire +and the rest, was it just by way of a riddle? was it in deliberate +ineptitude that he reproduced it? a likely thing in their desperate +military situation, with the enemy surrounding them! no, the relation +was to serve a useful purpose. + +Similarly I have had an object in telling you my dream. It is that the +young may be guided to the better way and set themselves to Culture, +especially any among them who is recreant for fear of poverty, and +minded to enter the wrong path, to the ruin of a nature not all +ignoble. Such an one will be strengthened by my tale, I am well +assured; in me he will find an apt example; let him only compare the +boy of those days, who started in pursuit of the best and devoted +himself to Culture regardless of immediate poverty, with the man who +has now come back to you, as high in fame, to put it at the lowest, as +any stonecutter of them all. + +H. + + + +A LITERARY PROMETHEUS + +So you will have me a Prometheus? If your meaning is, my good sir, that +my works, like his, are of clay, I accept the comparison and hail my +prototype; potter me to your heart's content, though _my_ clay is poor +common stuff, trampled by common feet till it is little better than +mud. But perhaps it is in exaggerated compliment to my ingenuity that +you father my books upon the subtlest of the Titans; in that case I +fear men will find a hidden meaning, and detect an Attic curl on your +laudatory lips. Where do you find my ingenuity? in what consists the +great subtlety, the Prometheanism, of my writings? enough for me if you +have not found them sheer earth, all unworthy of Caucasian clay-pits. +How much better a claim to kinship with Prometheus have you gentlemen +who win fame in the courts, engaged in real contests; _your_ works have +true life and breath, ay, and the warmth of fire. That is Promethean +indeed, though with the difference, it may be, that you do not work in +clay; your creations are oftenest of gold; we on the other hand who +come before popular audiences and offer mere lectures are exhibitors of +imitations only. However, I have the general resemblance to Prometheus, +as I said before—a resemblance which I share with the dollmakers—, that +my modelling is in clay; but then there is no motion, as with him, not +a sign of life; entertainment and pastime is the beginning and the end +of my work. So I must look for light elsewhere; possibly the title is a +sort of _lucus a non lucendo_, applied to me as to Cleon in the comedy: + +Full well Prometheus-Cleon plans—the past. + + +Or again, the Athenians used to call Prometheuses the makers of jars +and stoves and other, clay-workers, with playful reference to the +material, and perhaps to the use of fire in baking the ware. If that is +all your 'Prometheus' means, you have aimed your shaft well enough, and +flavoured your jest with the right Attic tartness; my productions are +as brittle as their pottery; fling a stone, and you may smash them all +to pieces. + +But here some one offers me a crumb of comfort: 'That was not the +likeness he found between you and Prometheus; he meant to commend your +innovating originality: at a time when human beings did not exist, +Prometheus conceived and fashioned them; he moulded and elaborated +certain living things into agility and beauty; he was practically their +creator, though Athene assisted by putting breath into the clay and +bringing the models to life.' So says my some one, giving your remark +its politest possible turn. Perhaps he has hit the true meaning; not +that I can rest content, however, with the mere credit of innovation, +and the absence of any original to which my work can be referred; if it +is not good as well as original, I assure you I shall be ashamed of it, +bring down my foot and crush it out of existence; its novelty shall not +avail (with me at least) to save its ugliness from annihilation. If I +thought otherwise, I admit that a round dozen of vultures would be none +too many for the liver of a dunce who could not see that ugliness was +only aggravated by strangeness. + +Ptolemy, son of Lagus, imported two novelties into Egypt; one was a +pure black Bactrian camel, the other a piebald man, half absolutely +black and half unusually white, the two colours evenly distributed; he +invited the Egyptians to the theatre, and concluded a varied show with +these two, expecting to bring down the house. The audience, however, +was terrified by the camel and almost stampeded; still, it _was_ decked +all over with gold, had purple housings and a richly jewelled bridle, +the spoil of Darius' or Cambyses' treasury, if not of Cyrus' own. As +for the man, a few laughed at him, but most shrank as from a monster. +Ptolemy realized that the show was a failure, and the Egyptians proof +against mere novelty, preferring harmony and beauty. So he withdrew and +ceased to prize them; the camel died forgotten, and the parti-coloured +man became the reward of Thespis the fluteplayer for a successful +after-dinner performance. + +I am afraid my work is a camel in Egypt, and men's admiration limited +to the bridle and purple housings; as to combinations, though the +components may be of the most beautiful (as Comedy and Dialogue in the +present case), that will not ensure a good effect, unless the mixture +is harmonious and well-proportioned; it is possible that the resultant +of two beauties may be bizarre. The readiest instance to hand is the +centaur: not a lovely creature, you will admit, but a savage, if the +paintings of its drunken bouts and murders go for anything. Well, but +on the other hand is it not possible for two such components to result +in beauty, as the combination of wine and honey in superlative +sweetness? That is my belief; but I am not prepared to maintain that +_my_ components have that property; I fear the mixture may only have +obscured their separate beauties. + +For one thing, there was no great original connexion or friendship +between Dialogue and Comedy; the former was a stay-at-home, spending +his time in solitude, or at most taking a stroll with a few intimates; +whereas Comedy put herself in the hands of Dionysus, haunted the +theatre, frolicked in company, laughed and mocked and tripped it to the +flute when she saw good; nay, she would mount her anapaests, as likely +as not, and pelt the friends of Dialogue with nicknames—doctrinaires, +airy metaphysicians, and the like. The thing she loved of all else was +to chaff them and drench them in holiday impertinence, exhibit them +treading on air and arguing with the clouds, or measuring the jump of a +flea, as a type of their ethereal refinements. But Dialogue continued +his deep speculations upon Nature and Virtue, till, as the musicians +say, the interval between them was two full octaves, from the highest +to the lowest note. This ill-assorted pair it is that we have dared to +unite and harmonize—reluctant and ill-disposed for reconciliation. + +And here comes in the apprehension of yet another Promethean analogy: +have I confounded male and female, and incurred the penalty? Or no—when +will resemblances end?—have I, rather, cheated my hearers by serving +them up bones wrapped in fat, comic laughter in philosophic solemnity? +As for stealing—for Prometheus is the thief's patron too—I defy you +there; that is the one fault you cannot find with me: from whom should +I have stolen? if any one has dealt before me in such forced unions and +hybrids, I have never made his acquaintance. But after all, what am I +to do? I have made my bed, and I must lie in it; Epimetheus may change +his mind, but Prometheus, never. + +H. + + + +NIGRINUS + +[Lucian to Nigrinus. Health. + +There is a proverb about carrying 'owls to Athens'—an absurd +undertaking, considering the excellent supply already on the spot. Had +it been my intention, in presenting Nigrinus with a volume of my +composition, to indulge him of all people with a display of literary +skill, I should indeed have been an arrant 'owl-fancier in Athens.' As +however my object is merely to communicate to you my present +sentiments, and the profound impression produced upon me by your +eloquence, I may fairly plead Not Guilty, even to the charge of +Thucydides, that 'Men are bold from ignorance, where mature +consideration would render them cautious.' For I need not say that +devotion to my subject is partly responsible for my present hardihood; +it is not _all_ the work of ignorance. Farewell.] + +NIGRINUS + +A DIALOGUE + + +_Lucian. A Friend_ + +_Fr_. What a haughty and dignified Lucian returns to us from his +journey! He will not vouchsafe us a glance; he stands aloof, and will +hold no further communion with us. Altogether a supercilious Lucian! +The change is sudden. Might one inquire the cause of this altered +demeanour? + +_Luc_. 'Tis the work of Fortune. + +_Fr_. Of Fortune! + +_Luc_. As an incidental result of my journey, you see in me a happy +man; 'thrice-blest,' as the tragedians have it. + +_Fr_. Dear me. What, in this short time? + +_Luc_. Even so. + +_Fr_. But what does it all mean? What is the secret of your elation? I +decline to rejoice with you in this abridged fashion; I must have +details. Tell me all about it. + +_Luc_. What should you think, if I told you that I had exchanged +servitude for freedom; poverty for true wealth; folly and presumption +for good sense? + +_Fr_. Extraordinary! But I am not quite clear of your meaning yet. + +_Luc_. Why, I went off to Rome to see an oculist—my eyes had been +getting worse— + +_Fr_. Yes, I know about that. I have been hoping that you would light +on a good man. + +_Luc_. Well, I got up early one morning with the intention of paying a +long-deferred visit to Nigrinus, the Platonic philosopher. On reaching +his house, I knocked, and was duly announced and admitted to his +presence. I found him with a book in his hand, surrounded by various +statues of the ancient philosophers. Before him lay a tablet, with +geometrical figures described on it, and a globe of reeds, designed +apparently to represent the universe. He greeted me cordially, and +asked after my welfare. I satisfied his inquiries, and demanded, in my +turn, how he did, and whether he had decided on another trip to Greece. +Once on that subject, he gave free expression to his sentiments; and, I +assure you, 'twas a veritable feast of ambrosia to me. The spells of +the Sirens (if ever there were Sirens), of the Pindaric 'Charmers,' of +the Homeric lotus, are things to be forgotten, after his truly divine +eloquence. Led on by his theme, he spoke the praises of philosophy, and +of the freedom which philosophy confers; and expressed his contempt for +the vulgar error which sets a value upon wealth and renown and dominion +and power, upon gold and purple, and all that dazzles the eyes of the +world,—and once attracted my own! I listened with rapt attention, and +with a swelling heart. At the time, I knew not what had come over me; +my feelings were indescribable. My dearest idols, riches and renown, +lay shattered; one moment I was ready to shed bitter tears over the +disillusionment, the next, I could have laughed for scorn of these very +things, and was exulting in my escape from the murky atmosphere of my +past life into the brightness of the upper air. The result was curious: +I forgot all about my ophthalmic troubles, in the gradual improvement +of my spiritual vision; for till that day I had grovelled in spiritual +blindness. Little by little I came into the condition with which you +were twitting me just now. Nigrinus's words have raised in me a joyous +exaltation of spirit which precludes every meaner thought. Philosophy +seems to have produced the same effect on me as wine is said to have +produced on the Indians the first time they drank it. The mere taste of +such potent liquor threw them into a state of absolute frenzy, the +intoxicating power of the wine being doubled in men so warm-blooded by +nature. This is my case. I go about like one possessed; I am drunk with +the words of wisdom. + +_Fr_. This is not drunkenness, but sobriety and temperance. But I +should like to hear what Nigrinus actually said, if that may be. It is +only right that you should take that trouble for me; I am your friend, +and share your interests. + +_Luc_. Enough! You urge a willing steed. I was about to bespeak your +attention. You must be my witness to the world, that there is reason in +my madness. Indeed, apart from this, the work of recollection is a +pleasure, and has become a constant practice with me; twice, thrice in +a day I repeat over his words, though there is none to hear. A lover, +in the absence of his mistress, remembers some word, some act of hers, +dwells on it, and beguiles hours of sickness with her feigned presence. +Sometimes he thinks he is face to face with her; words, heard long +since, come again from her lips; he rejoices; his soul cleaves to the +memory of the past, and has no time for present vexations. It is so +with me. Philosophy is far away, but I have heard a philosopher's +words. I piece them together, and revolve them in my heart, and am +comforted. Nigrinus is the beacon-fire on which, far out in mid-ocean, +in the darkness of night, I fix my gaze; I fancy him present with me in +all my doings; I hear ever the same words. At times, in moments of +concentration, I see his very face, his voice rings in my ears. Of him +it may truly be said, as of Pericles, + +In every heart he left his sting. + + +_Fr_. Stay, gentle enthusiast. Take a good breath, and start again; I +am waiting to hear what Nigrinus said. You beat about the bush in a +manner truly exasperating. + +_Luc_. True, I must make a start, as you say. And yet… Tell me, did you +never see a tragedy (nay, the comedies fare no better) murdered by bad +acting, and the culprits finally hissed off the stage for their pains? +As often as not the play is a perfectly good one, and has scored a +success. + +_Fr_. I know the sort of thing; and what about it? + +_Luc_. I am afraid that before I have done you will find that I make as +sad work of it as they do,—jumbling things together pell-mell, spoiling +the whole point sometimes by inadequate expression; and you will end by +damning the play instead of the actor. I could put up with my own share +of the disgrace; but it would vex me indeed, that my subject should be +involved in my downfall; I cannot have _it_ discredited for my +shortcomings. Remember, then: whatever the imperfections in my speech, +the author is not to be called to account; he sits far aloof from the +stage, and knows nothing of what is going forward. The memory of the +actor is all that you are invited to criticize; I am neither more nor +less than the 'Messenger' in a tragedy. At each flaw in the argument, +be this your first thought, that the author probably said something +quite different, and much more to the point;—and then you may hiss me +off if you will. + +_Fr_. Bless me; here is quite a professional exordium! You are about to +add, I think, that 'your consultation with your client has been but +brief'; that you 'come into court imperfectly instructed'; that 'it +were to be desired that your client were here to plead his own cause; +as it is, you are reduced to such a meagre and inadequate statement of +the case, as memory will supply.' Am I right? Well then, spare yourself +the trouble, as far as I am concerned. Imagine all these preliminaries +settled. I stand prepared to applaud: but if you keep me waiting, I +shall harbour resentment all through the case, and hiss you +accordingly. + +_Luc_. I should, indeed, have been glad to avail myself of the +arguments you mention, and of others too. I might have said, that mine +would be no set speech, no orderly statement such as that I heard; that +is wholly beyond me. Nor can I speak in the person of Nigrinus. There +again I should be like a bad actor, taking the part of Agamemnon, or +Creon, or Heracles' self; he is arrayed in cloth of gold, and looks +very formidable, and his mouth opens tremendously wide; and what comes +out of it? A little, shrill, womanish pipe of a voice that would +disgrace Polyxena or Hecuba! I for my part have no intention of +exposing myself in a mask several sizes too large for me, or of wearing +a robe to which I cannot do credit. Rather than play the hero's part, +and involve him in my discomfiture, I will speak in my own person. + +_Fr_. Will the man never have done with his masks and his stages? + +_Luc_. Nay, that is all. And now to my subject. Nigrinus's first words +were in praise of Greece, and in particular of the Athenians. They are +brought up, he said, to poverty and to philosophy. The endeavours, +whether of foreigners or of their own countrymen, to introduce luxury +into their midst, find no favour with them. When a man comes among them +with this view, they quietly set about to correct his tendency, and by +gentle degrees to bring him to a better course of life. He mentioned +the case of a wealthy man who arrived at Athens in all the vulgar pomp +of retinue and gold and gorgeous raiment, expecting that every eye +would be turned upon him in envy of his lot; instead of which, they +heartily pitied the poor worm, and proceeded to take his education in +hand. Not an ill-natured word, not an attempt at direct interference: +it was a free city; he was at liberty to live in it as he thought fit. +But when he made a public nuisance of himself in the baths or +gymnasiums, crowding in with his attendants, and taking up all the +room, someone would whisper, in a sly aside, as if the words were not +meant to reach his ears: 'He is afraid he will never come out from here +alive; yet all is peace; there is no need of such an army.' The remark +would be overheard, and would have its educational effect. They soon +eased him of his embroidery and purple, by playful allusions to flower +and colour. 'Spring is early.'—'How did that peacock get here?'—'His +mother must have lent him that shawl,'—and so on. The same with the +rest, his rings, his elaborate coiffure, and his table excesses. Little +by little he came to his senses, and left Athens very much the better +for the public education he had received. + +Nor do they scruple to confess their poverty. He mentioned a sentence +which he heard pronounced unanimously by the assembled people at the +Panathenaic festival. A citizen had been arrested and brought before +the Steward for making his appearance in coloured clothes. The +onlookers felt for him, and took his part; and when the herald declared +that he had violated the law by attending the festival in that attire, +they all exclaimed with one voice, as if they had been in consultation, +'that he must be pardoned for wearing those clothes, as he had no +others.' + +He further commended the Athenian liberty, and unpretentious style of +living; the peace and learned leisure which they so abundantly enjoy. +To dwell among such men, he declared, is to dwell with philosophy; a +single-hearted man, who has been taught to despise wealth, may here +preserve a pure morality; no life could be more in harmony with the +determined pursuit of all that is truly beautiful. But the man over +whom gold has cast its spell, who is in love with riches, and measures +happiness by purple raiment and dominion, who, living his life among +flatterers and slaves, knows not the sweets of freedom, the blessings +of candour, the beauty of truth; he who has given up his soul to +Pleasure, and will serve no other mistress, whose heart is set on +gluttony and wine and women, on whose tongue are deceit and hypocrisy; +he again whose ears must be tickled with lascivious songs, and the +voluptuous notes of flute and lyre;—let all such (he cried) dwell here +in Rome; the life will suit them. Our streets and market-places are +filled with the things they love best. They may take in pleasure +through every aperture, through eye and ear, nostril and palate; nor +are the claims of Aphrodite forgotten. The turbid stream surges +everlastingly through our streets; avarice, perjury, adultery,—all +tastes are represented. Under that rush of waters, modesty, virtue, +uprightness, are torn from the soul; and in their stead grows the tree +of perpetual thirst, whose flowers are many strange desires. + +Such was Rome; such were the blessings she taught men to enjoy. 'As for +me,' he continued, 'on returning from my first voyage to Greece, I +stopped short a little way from the city, and called myself to account, +in the words of Homer, for my return. + +Ah, wretch! and leav'st thou then the light of day—the joyous freedom +of Greece, +And wouldst behold— + + +the turmoil of Rome? slander and insolence and gluttony, flatterers and +false friends, legacy-hunters and murderers? And what wilt thou do +here? thou canst not endure these things, neither canst thou escape +them! Thus reasoning, I withdrew myself out of range, as Zeus did +Hector, + +Far from the scene of slaughter, blood and strife, + + +and resolved henceforth to keep my house. I lead the life you see—a +spiritless, womanish life, most men would account it—holding converse +with Philosophy, with Plato, with Truth. From my high seat in this vast +theatre, I look down on the scene beneath me; a scene calculated to +afford much entertainment; calculated also to try a man's resolution to +the utmost. For, to give evil its due, believe me, there is no better +school for virtue, no truer test of moral strength, than life in this +same city of Rome. It is no easy thing, to withstand so many +temptations, so many allurements and distractions of sight and sound. +There is no help for it: like Odysseus, we must sail past them all; and +there must be no binding of hands, no stopping of our ears with wax; +that would be but sorry courage: our ears must hear, our hands must be +free,—and our contempt must be genuine. Well may that man conceive an +admiration of philosophy, who is a spectator of so much folly; well may +he despise the gifts of Fortune, who views this stage, and its +multitudinous actors. The slave grows to be master, the rich man is +poor, the pauper becomes a prince, a king; and one is His Majesty's +friend, and another is his enemy, and a third he banishes. And here is +the strangest thing of all: the affairs of mankind are confessedly the +playthings of Fortune, they have no pretence to security; yet, with +instances of this daily before their eyes, men will reach after wealth +and power;—not one of them but carries his load of hopes unrealized. + +'But I said that there was entertainment also to be derived from the +scene; and I will maintain it. Our rich men are an entertainment in +themselves, with their purple and their rings always in evidence, and +their thousand vulgarities. The latest development is the _salutation +by proxy_; [Footnote: The _spoken_ salutation being performed by a +servant.] they favour us with a glance, and that must be happiness +enough. By the more ambitious spirits, an obeisance is expected; this +is not performed at a distance, after the Persian fashion—you go right +up, and make a profound bow, testifying with the angle of your body to +the self-abasement of your soul; you then kiss his hand or breast—and +happy and enviable is he who may do so much! And there stands the great +man, protracting the illusion as long as may be. (I heartily acquiesce, +by the way, in the churlish sentence which excludes us from a nearer +acquaintance with their _lips_.) + +'But if these men are amusing, their courtiers and flatterers are +doubly so. They rise in the small hours of the night, to go their round +of the city, to have doors slammed in their faces by slaves, to swallow +as best they may the compliments of "Dog," "Toadeater," and the like. +And the guerdon of their painful circumambulations? A vulgarly +magnificent dinner, the source of many woes! They eat too much, they +drink more than they want, they talk more than they should; and then +they go away, angry and disappointed, grumbling at their fare, and +protesting against the scant courtesy shown them by their insolent +patron. You may see them vomiting in every alley, squabbling at every +brothel. The daylight most of them spend in bed, furnishing employment +for the doctors. Most of them, I say; for with some it has come to +this, that they actually have no time to be ill. My own opinion is +that, of the two parties, the toadies are more to blame, and have only +themselves to thank for their patron's insolence. What can they expect +him to think, after their commendations of his wealth, their panegyrics +on money, their early attendance at his doors, their servile +salutations? If by common consent they would abstain, were it only for +a few days, from this voluntary servitude, the tables must surely be +turned, and the rich come to the doors of the paupers, imploring them +not to leave such blessedness as theirs without a witness, their fine +houses and elegant furniture lying idle for want of some one to use +them. Not wealth, but the envy that waits on wealth, is the object of +their desire. The truth is, gold and ivory and noble mansions are of +little avail to their owner, if there is no one to admire them. If we +would break the power of the rich, and bring down their pretensions, we +must raise up within their borders a stronghold of Indifference. As it +is, their vanity is fostered by the court that is paid to them. In +ordinary men, who have no pretence to education, this conduct, no +doubt, is less to be blamed. But that men who call themselves +philosophers should actually outdo the rest in degradation,—this, +indeed, is the climax. Imagine my feelings, when I see a brother +philosopher, an old man, perhaps, mingling in the herd of sycophants; +dancing attendance on some great man; adapting himself to the +conversational level of a possible host! One thing, indeed, serves to +distinguish him from his company, and to accentuate his disgrace;—he +wears the garb of philosophy. It is much to be regretted that actors of +uniform excellence in other respects will not dress conformably to +their part. For in the achievements of the table, what toadeater +besides can be compared with them? There is an artlessness in their +manner of stuffing themselves, a frankness in their tippling, which +defy competition; they sponge with more spirit than other men, and sit +on with greater persistency. It is not an uncommon thing for the more +courtly sages to oblige the company with a song.' + +All this he treated as a jest. But he had much to say on the subject of +those paid philosophers, who hawk about virtue like any other +marketable commodity. 'Hucksters' and 'petty traders' were his words +for them. A man who proposes to teach the contempt of wealth, should +begin (he maintained) by showing a soul above fees. And certainly he +has always acted on this principle himself. He is not content with +giving his services gratis to all comers, but lends a helping hand to +all who are in difficulties, and shows an absolute disregard for +riches. So far is he from grasping at other men's goods, that he could +anticipate without concern the deterioration of his own property. He +possessed an estate at no great distance from the city, on which for +many years he had never even set foot. Nay, he disclaimed all right of +property in it; meaning, I suppose, that we have no natural claim to +such things; law, and the rights of inheritance, give us the use of +them for an indefinite period, and for that time we are styled +'owners'; presently our term lapses, and another succeeds to the +enjoyment of a name. + +There are other points in which he sets an admirable example to the +serious followers of philosophy: his frugal life, his systematic habits +of bodily exercise, his modest bearing, his simplicity of dress, but +above all, gentle manners and a constant mind. He urges his followers +not to postpone the pursuit of good, as so many do, who allow +themselves a period of grace till the next great festival, after which +they propose to eschew deceit and lead a righteous life; there must be +no shilly-shallying, when virtue is the goal for which we start. On the +other hand, there are philosophers whose idea of inculcating virtue in +their youthful disciples is to subject them to various tests of +physical endurance; whose favourite prescription is the strait +waistcoat, varied with flagellations, or the enlightened process of +scarification. Of these Nigrinus evidently had no opinion. According to +him, our first care should be to inure the _soul_ to pain and hardship; +he who aspired to educate men aright must reckon with soul as well as +body, with the age of his pupils, and with their previous training; he +would then escape the palpable blunder of overtasking them. Many a one +(he affirmed) had succumbed under the unreasonable strain put upon him; +and I met with an instance myself, of a man who had tasted the +hardships of those schools, but no sooner heard the words of true +wisdom, than he fled incontinently to Nigrinus, and was manifestly the +better for the change. + +Leaving the philosophers to themselves, he reverted to more general +subjects: the din and bustle of the city, the theatres, the +race-course, the statues of charioteers, the nomenclature of horses, +the horse-talk in every side-street. The rage for horses has become a +positive epidemic; many persons are infected with it whom one would +have credited with more sense. + +Then the scene changed to the pomp and circumstance attendant upon +funerals and testamentary dispositions. 'Only once in his life' (he +observed) 'does your thoroughbred Roman say what he means; and then,' +meaning, in his will, 'it comes too late for him to enjoy the credit of +it.' I could not help laughing when he told me how they thought it +necessary to carry their follies with them to the grave, and to leave +the record of their inanity behind them in black and white; some +stipulating that their clothes or other treasures should be burnt with +them, others that their graves should be watched by particular +servants, or their monuments crowned with flowers;—sapient end to a +life of sapience! 'Of their doings in this world,' said he, 'you may +form some idea from their injunctions with reference to the next. These +are they who will pay a long price for an entree; whose floors are +sprinkled with wine and saffron and spices; who in midwinter smother +themselves in roses, ay, for roses are scarce, and out of season, and +altogether desirable; but let a thing come in its due course, and oh, +'tis vile, 'tis contemptible. These are they whose drink is of costly +essences.' He had no mercy on them here. 'Very bunglers in sensuality, +who know not her laws, and confound her ordinances, flinging down their +souls to be trampled beneath the heels of luxury! As the play has it, +Door or window, all is one to them. Such pleasures are rank solecism.' +One observation of his in the same spirit fairly caps the famous +censure of Momus. Momus found fault with the divine artificer for not +putting his bull's horns in front of the eyes. Similarly, Nigrinus +complained that when these men crown themselves in their banquets, they +put the garlands in the wrong place; if they are so fond of the smell +of violets and roses, they should tie on their garlands as close as may +be under their nostrils; they could then snuff up the smell to their +hearts' content. + +Proceeding to the gentlemen who make such a serious work of their +dinner, he was exceedingly merry over their painful elaborations of +sauce and seasoning. 'Here again,' he cried, 'these men are sore put to +it, to procure the most fleeting of enjoyments. Grant them four inches +of palate apiece—'tis the utmost we can allow any man—and I will prove +to you that they have four inches of gratification for their trouble. +Thus: there is no satisfaction to be got out of the costliest viands +before consumption; and after it a full stomach is none the better for +the price it has cost to fill it. _Ergo_, the money is paid for the +pleasure snatched _in transitu_. But what are we to expect? These men +are too grossly ignorant to discern those truer pleasures with which +Philosophy rewards our resolute endeavours.' + +The Baths proved a fertile topic, what with the insolence of the +masters and the jostlings of their men;—'they will not stand without +the support of a slave; it is much that they retain enough vitality to +get away on their own legs at all.' One practice which obtains in the +streets and Baths of Rome seemed to arouse his particular resentment. +Slaves have to walk on ahead of their masters, and call out to them to +'look to their feet,' whenever there is a hole or a lump in their way; +it has come to this, that men must be _reminded that they are walking_. +'It is too much,' he cried; 'these men can get through their dinner +with the help of their own teeth and fingers; they can hear with their +own ears: yet they must have other men's eyes to see for them! They are +in possession of all their faculties: yet they are content to be spoken +to in language which should only be addressed to poor maimed wretches! +And this goes on in broad daylight, in our public places; and among the +sufferers are men who are responsible for the welfare of cities!' + +This he said, and much more to the same effect. At length he was +silent. All the time I had listened in awestruck attention, dreading +the moment when he should cease. And when it was all over, my condition +was like that of the Phaeacians. For a long time I gazed upon him, +spellbound; then I was seized with a violent attack of giddiness; I was +bathed in perspiration, and when I attempted to speak, I broke down; my +voice failed, my tongue stammered, and at last I was reduced to tears. +Mine was no surface wound from a random shaft. The words had sunk deep +into a vital part; had come with true aim, and cleft my soul asunder. +For (if I may venture to philosophize on my own account) I conceive the +case thus:-A well-conditioned human soul is like a target of some soft +material. As life goes on, many archers take aim thereat; and every +man's quiver is full of subtle and varied arguments, but not every man +shoots aright. Some draw the bow too tight, and let fly with undue +violence. These hit the true direction, but their shafts do not lodge +in the mark; their impetus carries them right through the soul, and +they pass on their way, leaving only a gaping wound behind them. Others +make the contrary mistake: their bows are too slack, and their shafts +never reach their destination; as often as not their force is spent at +half distance, and they drop to earth. Or if they reach the mark, they +do but graze its surface; there can be no deep wound, where the archer +lacks strength. But a good marksman, a Nigrinus, begins with a careful +examination of the mark, in case it should be particularly soft,—or +again too hard; for there are marks which will take no impression from +an arrow. Satisfied on this point, he dips his shaft, not in the +poisons of Scythia or Crete, but in a certain ointment of his own, +which is sweet in flavour and gentle in operation; then, without more +ado, he lets fly. The shaft speeds with well-judged swiftness, cleaves +the mark right through, and remains lodged in it; and the drug works +its way through every part. Thus it is that men hear his words with +mingled joy and grief; and this was my own case, while the drug was +gently diffusing itself through my soul. Hence I was moved to +apostrophize him in the words of Homer: + +So aim; and thou shalt bring (to some) salvation. + + +For as it is not every man that is maddened by the sound of the +Phrygian flute, but only those who are inspired of Cybele, and by those +strains are recalled to their frenzy,—so too not every man who hears +the words of the philosophers will go away possessed, and stricken at +heart, but only those in whose nature is something akin to philosophy. + +_Fr_. These are fearful and wonderful words; nay, they are divine. All +that you said of ambrosia and lotus is true; I little knew how +sumptuous had been your feast. I have listened to you with strange +emotion, and now that you have ceased, I feel oppressed, nay, in your +own language, 'sore stricken.' This need not surprise you. A person who +has been bitten by a mad dog not only goes mad himself, you know, but +communicates his madness to any one whom he bites whilst he is in that +state, so that the infection may be carried on by this means through a +long succession of persons. + +_Luc_. Ah, then you confess to a tenderness? + +_Fr_. I do; and beg that you will think upon some medicine for both our +wounded breasts. + +_Luc_. We must take a hint from Telephus. + +_Fr_. What is that? + +_Luc_. We want a hair of the dog that bit us. + +F. + + + +TRIAL IN THE COURT OF VOWELS + +Archon, Aristarchus of Phalerum. +Seventh Pyanepsion. +Court of the Seven Vowels. +Action for assault with robbery. +Sigma _v_. Tau. +Plaintiff's case—that the words in-ττ-are wrongfully withheld from him. + + +Vowels of the jury.—For some time this Mr. Tau's trespasses and +encroachments on my property were of minor importance; I made no claim +for damages, and affected unconsciousness of what I heard; my +conciliatory temper both you and the other letters have reason to know. +His covetousness and folly, however, have now so puffed him up, that he +is no longer content with my habitual concessions, but insists on more; +I accordingly find myself compelled to get the matter settled by you +who know both sides of it. The fact is, I am in bodily fear, owing to +the crushing to which I am subjected. This evergrowing aggression will +end by ousting me completely from my own; I shall be almost dumb, lose +my rank as a letter, and be degraded to a mere noise. + +Justice requires then that not merely you, the jury in this case, but +the other letters also, should be on your guard against such attempts. +If any one who chooses is to be licensed to leave his own place and +usurp that of others, with no objection on your part (whose concurrence +is an indispensable condition of all writing), I fail to see how +combinations are to have their ancient constitutional rights secured to +them. But my first reliance is upon you, who will surely never be +guilty of the negligence and indifference which permits injustice; and +even if you decline the contest, I have no intention of sitting down +under that injustice myself. + +It is much to be regretted that the assaults of other letters were not +repelled when they first began their lawless practices; then we should +not be watching the still pending dispute between Lambda and Rho for +possession of κιφαλαλγία or κιφαλαργία, κίσηλις or κίσηρις: Gamma would +not have had to defend its rights over γυάφαλλα, constantly almost at +blows with Kappa in the debatable land, and _per contra_ it would +itself have dropped its campaign against Lambda (if indeed it is more +dignified than petty larceny) for converting μόλις to μόγις: in fact +lawless confusion generally would have been nipped in the bud. And it +is well to abide by the established order; such trespasses betray a +revolutionary spirit. + +Now our first legislators—Cadmus the islander, Palamedes, son of +Nauplius, or Simonides, whom some authorities credit with the +measure—were not satisfied with determining merely our order of +precedence in the alphabet; they also had an eye to our individual +qualities and faculties. You, Vowels of the jury, constitute the first +Estate, because you can be uttered independently; the semi-vowels, +requiring support before they can be distinctly heard, are the second; +and the lowest Estate they declared to consist of those nine which +cannot be sounded at all by themselves. The vowels are accordingly the +natural guardians of our laws. + +But this—this Tau—I would give him a worse designation, but that is a +manifest impossibility; for without the assistance of two good +presentable members of your Estate, Alpha and Upsilon, he would be a +mere nonentity—he it is that has dared to outdo all injuries that I +have ever known, expelling me from the nouns and verbs of my +inheritance, and hunting me out of my conjunctions and prepositions, +till his rapacity has become quite unbearable. I am now to trace +proceedings from the beginning. + +I was once staying at Cybelus, a pleasant little town, said to be an +Athenian colony; my travelling companion was the excellent Rho, best of +neighbours. My host was a writer of comedies, called Lysimachus; he +seems to have been a Boeotian by descent, though he represented himself +as coming from the interior of Attica. It was while with him that I +first detected Tau's depredations*. For some earlier occasional +attempts (as when he took to τετταράκοντα for τεσσαράκοντα, τήμερον for +σήμερον, with little pilferings of that sort) I had explained as a +trick and peculiarity of pronunciation; I had tolerated the sound +without letting it annoy me seriously. + +[*Footnote: For the probably corrupt passage § 7 fin.—§ 8 init. I +accept Dindorf’s rearrangement as follows: mechr men gar oligois +epecheirei, tettarakonta legein axioun, eti de taemeron kai ta homoia +epispomenon, sunaetheian thmaen idia tauti legein, kai oiston aen moi +to akousma kai ou panu ti edaknomaen ep autois. 8. hupote d ek touton +arxamenon etolmaese kattiteron eipein kai kattuma kai pittan, eita +aperuthriasan kai basilitgan onomazein, aposteroun me ton +suggegenaemenun moi kai suntethrammenun grammatun, ou metrius ipi +toutois aganaktu.] + + +But impunity emboldened him; kassiteros became kattiteros, kassuma and +pissa shared its fate; and then he cast off all shame and assaulted +basigissa. I found myself losing the society in which I had been born +and bred;* at such a time equanimity is out of place; I am tortured +with apprehension; how long will it be before suka is tuka? Bear with +me, I beseech you; I despair and have none to help me; do I not well to +be angry? It is no petty everyday peril, this threatened separation +from my long-tried familiars. My kissa, my talking bird that nestled in +my breast, he has torn away and named anew; my phassa, my nhssai, my +khossuphoi—all gone; and I had Aristarchus's own word that they were +mine; half my melissai he has lured to strange hives; Attica itself he +has invaded, and wrongfully annexed its Hymettus (as he calls it); and +you and the rest looked on at the seizure. + +[*Footnote: For the probably corrupt passage § 7 fin.—§ 8 init. I +accept Dindorf’s rearrangement as follows: mechr men gar oligois +epecheirei, tettarakonta legein axioun, eti de taemeron kai ta homoia +epispomenon, sunaetheian thmaen idia tauti legein, kai oiston aen moi +to akousma kai ou panu ti edaknomaen ep autois. 8. hupote d ek touton +arxamenon etolmaese kattiteron eipein kai kattuma kai pittan, eita +aperuthriasan kai basilitgan onomazein, aposteroun me ton +suggegenaemenun moi kai suntethrammenun grammatun, ou metrius ipi +toutois aganaktu.] + + +But why dwell on such trifles? I am driven from all Thessaly (Thettaly, +forsooth!), θαλασσα is now _mare clausum_ to me; he will not leave me a +poor garden-herb like seutlion, I have never a passalos to hang myself +upon. What a long-suffering letter I am myself, your own knowledge is +witness enough. When Zeta stole my smaragdos, and robbed me of all +Smyrna, I never took proceedings against him; Xi might break all +sunthhkai, and appeal to Thucydides (who ought to know) as sympathizing +with his xystem; I let them alone. My neighbour Rho I made no +difficulty about pardoning as an invalid, when he transplanted my +mursinai into his garden, or, in a fit of the spleen, took liberties +with my khopsh. So much for my temper. + +Tau's, on the other hand, is naturally violent; its manifestations are +not confined to me. In proof that he has not spared other letters, but +assaulted Delta, Theta, Zeta, and almost the whole alphabet, I wish his +various victims to be put in the box. Now, Vowels of the jury, mark the +evidence of Delta:—'He robbed me of _endelecheia_, which he claimed, +quite illegally, as _entelecheia_.' Mark Theta beating his breast and +plucking out his hair in grief for the loss of _kolokunthh_. And Zeta +mourns for _surizein_ and _salpizein_—nay, _cannot_ mourn, for lack of +his gryzein. What tolerance is possible, what penalty adequate, for +this criminal letter's iniquities? + +But his wrongs are not even limited to us, his own species; he has now +extended his operations to mankind, as I shall show. He does not permit +their tongues to work straight. (But that mention of mankind calls me +back for a moment, reminding me how he turns glossa into glotta, half +robbing me of the tongue itself. Ay, you are a disease of the tongue in +every sense, Tau.) But I return from that digression, to plead the +cause of mankind and its wrongs. The prisoner's designs include the +constraint, racking, and mutilation of their utterance. A man sees a +beautiful thing, and wishes to describe it as kalon, but in comes Tau, +and forces the man to say ταλόν: _he_ must have precedence everywhere, +of course. Another man has something to say about a vine, and lo, +before it is out, it is metamorphosed by this miserable creature into +misery; he has changed slaema to tlaema, with a suggestive hint of +τλήμων. And, not content with middle-class victims, he aims at the +Persian king himself, the one for whom land and sea are said to have +made way and changed their nature: Cyrus comes out at his bidding as +Tyrus. + +Such are his verbal offences against man; his offences in deed remain. +Men weep, and bewail their lot, and curse Cadmus with many curses for +introducing Tau into the family of letters; they say it was his body +that tyrants took for a model, his shape that they imitated, when they +set up the erections on which men are crucified. Stayros the vile +engine is called, and it derives its vile name from him. Now, with all +these crimes upon him, does he not deserve death, nay, many deaths? For +my part I know none bad enough but that supplied by his own shape—that +shape which he gave to the gibbet named Stayros after him by men. + +H. + + + +TIMON THE MISANTHROPE + +_Timon. Zeus. Hermes. Plutus. Poverty. Gnathonides. Philiades. Demeas. +Thrasycles. Blepsias_. + +_Tim_. O Zeus, thou arbiter of friendship, protector of the guest, +preserver of fellowship, lord of the hearth, launcher of the lightning, +avenger of oaths, compeller of clouds, utterer of thunder (and pray add +any other epithets; those cracked poets have plenty ready, especially +when they are in difficulties with their scansion; then it is that a +string of your names saves the situation and fills up the metrical +gaps), O Zeus, where is now your resplendent lightning, where your +deep-toned thunder, where the glowing, white-hot, direful bolt? we know +now 'tis all fudge and poetic moonshine—barring what value may attach +to the rattle of the names. That renowned projectile of yours, which +ranged so far and was so ready to your hand, has gone dead and cold, it +seems; never a spark left in it to scorch iniquity. + +If men are meditating perjury, a smouldering lamp-wick is as likely to +frighten them off it as the omnipotent's levin-bolt; the brand you hold +over them is one from which they see neither flame nor smoke can come; +a little soot-grime is the worst that need be apprehended from a touch +of it. No wonder if Salmoneus challenged you to a thundering-match; he +was reasonable enough when he backed his artificial heat against so +cool-tempered a Zeus. Of course he was; there are you in your +opiate-trance, never hearing the perjurers nor casting a glance at +criminals, your glazed eyes dull to all that happens, and your ears as +deaf as a dotard's. + +When you were young and keen, and your temper had some life in it, you +used to bestir yourself against crime and violence; there were no +armistices in those days; the thunderbolt was always hard at it, the +aegis quivering, the thunder rattling, the lightning engaged in a +perpetual skirmish. Earth was shaken like a sieve, buried in snow, +bombarded with hail. It rained cats and dogs (if you will pardon my +familiarity), and every shower was a waterspout. Why, in Deucalion's +time, hey presto, everything was swamped, mankind went under, and just +one little ark was saved, stranding on the top of Lycoreus and +preserving a remnant of human seed for the generation of greater +wickedness. + +Mankind pays you the natural wages of your laziness; if any one offers +you a victim or a garland nowadays, it is only at Olympia as a +perfunctory accompaniment of the games; he does it not because he +thinks it is any good, but because he may as well keep up an old +custom. It will not be long, most glorious of deities, before they +serve you as you served Cronus, and depose you. I will not rehearse all +the robberies of your temple—those are trifles; but they have laid +hands on your person at Olympia, my lord High-Thunderer, and you had +not the energy to wake the dogs or call in the neighbours; surely they +might have come to the rescue and caught the fellows before they had +finished packing up the swag. But there sat the bold Giant-slayer and +Titan-conqueror letting them cut his hair, with a fifteen-foot +thunderbolt in his hand all the time! My good sir, when is this +careless indifference to cease? how long before you will punish such +wickedness? Phaethon-falls and Deucalion-deluges—a good many of them +will be required to suppress this swelling human insolence. + +To leave generalities and illustrate from my own case—I have raised any +number of Athenians to high position, I have turned poor men into rich, +I have assisted every one that was in want, nay, flung my wealth +broadcast in the service of my friends, and now that profusion has +brought me to beggary, they do not so much as know me; I cannot get a +glance from the men who once cringed and worshipped and hung upon my +nod. If I meet one of them in the street, he passes me by as he might +pass the tombstone of one long dead; it has fallen face upwards, +loosened by time, but he wastes no moment deciphering it. Another will +take the next turning when he sees me in the distance; I am a sight of +ill omen, to be shunned by the man whose saviour and benefactor I had +been not so long ago. + +Thus in disgrace with fortune, I have betaken me to this corner of the +earth, where I wear the smock-frock and dig for sixpence a day, with +solitude and my spade to assist meditation. So much gain I reckon upon +here—to be exempt from contemplating unmerited prosperity; no sight +that so offends the eye as that. And now, Son of Cronus and Rhea, may I +ask you to shake off that deep sound sleep of yours—why, Epimenides's +was a mere nap to it—, put the bellows to your thunderbolt or warm it +up in Etna, get it into a good blaze, and give a display of spirit, +like a manly vigorous Zeus? or are we to believe the Cretans, who show +your grave among their sights? + +_Zeus_. Hermes, who is that calling out from Attica? there, on the +lower slopes of Hymettus—a grimy squalid fellow in a smock-frock; he is +bending over a spade or something; but he has a tongue in his head, and +is not afraid to use it. He must be a philosopher, to judge from his +fluent blasphemy. + +_Her_. What, father! have you forgotten Timon—son of Echecratides, of +Collytus? many is the time he has feasted us on unexceptionable +victims; the rich _parvenu_ of the whole hecatombs, you know, who used +to do us so well at the Diasia. + +_Zeus_. Dear, dear, _quantum mutatus_! is this the admired, the rich, +the popular? What has brought him to this pass? There he is in filth +and misery, digging for hire, labouring at that ponderous spade. + +_Her_. Why, if you like to put it so, it was kindness and generosity +and universal compassion that ruined him; but it would be nearer the +truth to call him a fool and a simpleton and a blunderer; he did not +realize that his proteges were carrion crows and wolves; vultures were +feeding on his unfortunate liver, and he took them for friends and good +comrades, showing a fine appetite just to please him. So they gnawed +his bones perfectly clean, sucked out with great precision any marrow +there might be in them, and went off, leaving him as dry as a tree +whose roots have been severed; and now they do not know him or +vouchsafe him a nod—no such fools—, nor ever think of showing him +charity or repaying his gifts. That is how the spade and smock-frock +are accounted for; he is ashamed to show his face in town; so he hires +himself out to dig, and broods over his wrongs—the rich men he has made +passing him contemptuously by, apparently quite unaware that his name +is Timon. + +_Zeus_. This is a case we must take up and see to. No wonder he is down +on his luck. We should be putting ourselves on the level of his +despicable sycophants, if we forgot all the fat ox and goat thighs he +has burnt on our altars; the savour of them is yet in my nostrils. But +I have been so busy, there is such a din of perjury, assault, and +burglary; I am so frightened of the temple-robbers—they swarm now, you +cannot keep them out, nor take a nap with any safety; and, with one +thing and another, it is an age since I had a look at Attica. I have +hardly been there since philosophy and argument came into fashion; +indeed, with their shouting-matches going on, prayers are quite +inaudible. One must sit with one's ears plugged, if one does not want +the drums of them cracked; such long vociferous rigmaroles about +Incorporeal Things, or something they call Virtue! That is how we came +to neglect this man—who really deserved better. + +However, go to him now without wasting any more time, Hermes, and take +Plutus with you. Thesaurus is to accompany Plutus, and they are both to +stay with Timon, and not leave him so lightly this time, even though +the generous fellow does his best to find other hosts for them. As to +those parasites, and the ingratitude they showed him, I will attend to +them before long; they shall have their deserts as soon as I have got +the thunderbolt in order again. Its two best spikes are broken and +blunted; my zeal outran my discretion the other day when I took that +shot at Anaxagoras the sophist; the Gods non-existent, indeed! that was +what he was telling his disciples. However, I missed him (Pericles had +held up his hand to shield him), and the bolt glanced off on to the +Anaceum, set it on fire, and was itself nearly pulverized on the rock. +But meanwhile it will be quite sufficient punishment for them to see +Timon rolling in money. + +_Her_. Nothing like lifting up your voice, making yourself a nuisance, +and showing a bold front; it is equally effective whether you are +pleading with juries or deities. Here is Timon developing from pauper +to millionaire, just because his prayer was loud and free enough to +startle Zeus; if he had dug quietly with his face to his work, he might +have dug to all eternity, for any notice he would have got. + +_Pl_. Well, Zeus, I am not going to him. + +_Zeus_. Your reason, good Plutus; have I not told you to go? + +_Pl_. Good God! why, he insulted me, threw me about, dismembered me—me, +his old family friend—and practically pitchforked me out of the house; +he could not have been in a greater hurry to be rid of me if I had been +a live coal in his hand. What, go there again, to be transferred to +toadies and flatterers and harlots? No, no, Zeus; send me to people who +will appreciate the gift, take care of me, value and cherish me. Let +these gulls consort with the poverty which they prefer to me; she will +find them a smock-frock and a spade, and they can be thankful for a +miserable pittance of sixpence a day, these reckless squanderers of +1,000 pound presents. + +_Zeus_. Ah, Timon will not treat you that way again. If his loins are +not of cast iron, his spade-work will have taught him a thing or two +about your superiority to poverty. You are so particular, you know; +now, you are finding fault with Timon for opening the door to you and +letting you wander at your own sweet will, instead of keeping you in +jealous seclusion. Yesterday it was another story: you were imprisoned +by rich men under bolts and locks and seals, and never allowed a +glimpse of sunlight. That was the burden of your complaint—you were +stifled in deep darkness. We saw you pale and careworn, your fingers +hooked with coin-counting, and heard how you would like to run away, if +only you could get the chance. It was monstrous, then, that you should +be kept in a bronze or iron chamber, like a Danae condemned to +virginity, and brought up by those stern unscrupulous tutors, Interest, +Debit and Credit. + +They were perfectly ridiculous, you know, loving you to distraction, +but not daring to enjoy you when they might; you were in their power, +yet they could not give the reins to their passion; they kept awake +watching you with their eyes glued to bolt and seal; the enjoyment that +satisfied them was not to enjoy you themselves, but to prevent others' +enjoying you—true dogs in the manger. Yes, and then how absurd it was +that they should scrape and hoard, and end by being jealous of their +own selves! Ah, if they could but see that rascally +slave—steward—trainer—sneaking in bent on carouse! little enough _he_ +troubles his head about the luckless unamiable owner at his nightly +accounts by a dim little half-fed lamp. How, pray, do you reconcile +your old strictures of this sort with your contrary denunciation of +Timon? + +_Pl_. Oh, if you consider the thing candidly, you will find both +attitudes reasonable. It is clear enough that Timon's utter negligence +comes from slackness, and not from any consideration for me. As for the +other sort, who keep me shut up in the obscurity of strong-boxes, +intent on making me heavy and fat and unwieldy, never touching me +themselves, and never letting me see the light, lest some one else +should catch sight of me, I always thought of them as fools and +tyrants; what harm had I done that they should let me rot in close +confinement? and did not they know that in a little while they would +pass away and have to resign me to some other lucky man? + +No, give me neither these nor the off-hand gentry; my beau ideal is the +man who steers a middle course, as far from complete abstention as from +utter profusion. Consider, Zeus, by your own great name; suppose a man +were to take a fair young wife, and then absolutely decline all jealous +precautions, to the point of letting her wander where she would by day +or night, keeping company with any one who had a mind to her—or put it +a little stronger, and let him be procurer, janitor, pander, and +advertiser of her charms in his own person—well, what sort of love is +his? come, Zeus, you have a good deal of experience, you know what love +is. + +On the other hand, let a man make a suitable match for the express +purpose of raising heirs, and then let him neither himself have +anything to do with her ripe, yet modest, beauty, nor allow any other +to set eyes on it, but shut her up in barren, fruitless virginity; let +him say all the while that he is in love with her, and let his pallid +hue, his wasting flesh and his sunken eyes confirm the statement;—is he +a madman, or is he not? he should be raising a family and enjoying +matrimony; but he lets this fair-faced lovely girl wither away; he +might as well be bringing up a perpetual priestess of Demeter. And now +you understand my feelings when one set of people kick me about or +waste me by the bucketful, and the others clap irons on me like a +runaway convict. + +_Zeus_. However, indignation is superfluous; both sets have just what +they deserve—one as hungry and thirsty and dry-mouthed as Tantalus, +getting no further than gaping at the gold; and the other finding its +food swept away from its very gullet, as the Harpies served Phineus. +Come, be off with you; you will find Timon has much more sense +nowadays. + +_Pl_. Oh, of course! he will not do his best to let me run out of a +leaky vessel before I have done running in! oh no, he will not be +consumed with apprehensions of the inflow's gaining on the waste and +flooding him! I shall be supplying a cask of the Danaids; no matter how +fast I pour in, the thing will not hold water; every gallon will be out +almost before it is in; the bore of the waste-pipe is so large, and +never a plug. + +_Zeus_. Well, if he does not stop the hole—if the leak is more than +temporary—you will run out in no time, and he can find his smock-frock +and spade again in the dregs of the cask. Now go along, both of you, +and make the man rich. And, Hermes, on your way back, remember to bring +the Cyclopes with you from Etna; my thunderbolt wants the grindstone; +and I have work for it as soon as it is sharp. + +_Her_. Come along, Plutus. Hullo! limping? My good man, I did not know +you were lame as well as blind. + +_Pl_. No, it is intermittent. As sure as Zeus sends me _to_ any one, a +sort of lethargy comes over me, my legs are like lead, and I can hardly +get to my journey's end; my destined host is sometimes an old man +before I reach him. As a parting guest, on the other hand, you may see +me wing my way swifter than any dream. 'Are you ready?' and almost +before 'Go' has sounded, up goes my name as winner; I have flashed +round the course absolutely unseen sometimes. + +_Her_. You are not quite keeping to the truth; I could name you plenty +of people who yesterday had not the price of a halter to hang +themselves with, and to-day have developed into lavish men of fortune; +they drive their pair of high-steppers, whereas a donkey would have +been beyond their means before. They go about in purple raiment with +jewelled fingers, hardly convinced yet that their wealth is not all a +dream. + +_Pl_. Ah, those are special cases, Hermes. I do not go on my own feet +on those occasions, and it is not Zeus who sends me, but Pluto, who has +his own ways of conferring wealth and making presents; Pluto and Plutus +are not unconnected, you see. When I am to flit from one house to +another, they lay me on parchment, seal me up carefully, make a parcel +of me and take me round. The dead man lies in some dark corner, +shrouded from the knees upward in an old sheet, with the cats fighting +for possession of him, while those who have expectations wait for me in +the public place, gaping as wide as young swallows that scream for +their mother's return. + +Then the seal is taken off, the string cut, the parchment opened, and +my new owner's name made known. It is a relation, or a parasite, or +perhaps a domestic minion, whose value lay in his vices and his smooth +cheeks; he has continued to supply his master with all sorts of +unnatural pleasures beyond the years which might excuse such service, +and now the fine fellow is richly rewarded. But whoever it is, he +snatches me up, parchment included, and is off with me in a flash; he +used to be called Pyrrhias or Dromo or Tibius, but now he is Megacles, +Megabyzus, or Protarchus; off he goes, leaving the disappointed ones +staring at each other in very genuine mourning—over the fine fish which +has jumped out of the landing-net after swallowing their good bait. + +The fellow who _has_ pounced on me has neither taste nor feeling; the +sight of fetters still gives him a start; crack a whip in his +neighbourhood, and his ears tingle; the treadmill is an abode of awe to +him. He is now insufferable—insults his new equals, and whips his old +fellows to see what that side of the transaction feels like. He ends by +finding a mistress, or taking to the turf, or being cajoled by +parasites; these have only to swear he is handsomer than Nireus, nobler +than Cecrops or Codrus, wiser than Odysseus, richer than a dozen +Croesuses rolled into one; and so the poor wretch disperses in a moment +what cost so many perjuries, robberies, and swindles to amass. + +_Her_. A very fair picture. But when you go on your own feet, how can a +blind man like you find the way? Zeus sends you to people who he thinks +deserve riches; but how do you distinguish them? + +_Pl_. Do you suppose I do find them? not much. I should scarcely have +passed Aristides by, and gone to Hipponicus, Callias, and any number of +other Athenians whose merits could have been valued in copper. + +_Her_. Well, but what do you do when he sends you? + +_Pl_. I just wander up and down till I come across some one; the first +comer takes me off home with him, and thanks—whom but the God of +windfalls, yourself? + +_Her_. So Zeus is in error, and you do not enrich deserving persons +according to his pleasure? + +_Pl_. My dear fellow, how can he expect it? He knows I am blind, and he +sends me groping about for a thing so hard to detect, and so nearly +extinct this long time, that a Lynceus would have his work cut out +spying for its dubious remains. So you see, as the good are few, and +cities are crowded with multitudes of the bad, I am much more likely to +come upon the latter in my rambles, and they keep me in their nets. + +_Her_. But when you are leaving them, how do you find escape so easy? +you do not know the way. + +_Pl_. Ah, there is just one occasion which brings me quickness of eye +and foot; and that is flight. + +_Her_. Yet another question. You are not only blind (excuse my +frankness), but pallid and decrepit; how comes it, then, that you have +so many lovers? All men's looks are for you; if they get possession of +you, they count themselves happy men; if they miss you, life is not +worth living. Why, I have known not a few so sick for love of you that +they have scaled some sky-pointing crag, and thence hurled themselves +to unplumbed ocean depths [Footnote: See Apology for 'The Dependent +Scholar,'], when they thought they were scorned by you, because you +would not acknowledge their first salute. I am sure you know yourself +well enough to confess that they must be lunatics, to rave about such +charms as yours. + +_Pl_. Why, you do not suppose they see me in my true shape, lame, +blind, and so forth? + +_Her_. How else, unless they are all as blind themselves? + +_Pl_. They are not blind, my dear boy; but the ignorant misconceptions +now so prevalent obscure their vision. And then I contribute; not to be +an absolute fright when they see me, I put on a charming mask, all gilt +and jewels, and dress myself up. They take the mask for my face, fall +in love with its beauty, and are dying to possess it. If any one were +to strip and show me to them naked, they would doubtless reproach +themselves for their blindness in being captivated by such an ugly +misshapen creature, + +_Her_. How about fruition, then? When they are rich, and have put the +mask on themselves, they are still deluded; if any one tries to take it +off, they would sooner part with their heads than with it; and it is +not likely they do not know by that time that the beauty is +adventitious, now that they have an inside view. + +_Pl_. There too I have powerful allies. + +_Her_. Namely—? + +_Pl_. When a man makes my acquaintance, and opens the door to let me +in, there enter unseen by my side Arrogance, Folly, Vainglory, +Effeminacy, Insolence, Deceit, and a goodly company more. These possess +his soul; he begins to admire mean things, pursues what he should +abhor, reveres me amid my bodyguard of the insinuating vices which I +have begotten, and would consent to anything sooner than part with me. + +_Her_. What a smooth, slippery, unstable, evasive fellow you are, +Plutus! there is no getting a firm hold of you; you wriggle through +one's fingers somehow, like an eel or a snake. Poverty is so +different—sticky, clinging, all over hooks; any one who comes near her +is caught directly, and finds it no simple matter to get clear. But all +this gossip has put business out of our heads. + +_Pl_. Business? What business? + +_Her_. We have forgotten to bring Thesaurus, and we cannot do without +him. + +_Pl_. Oh, never mind him. When I come up to see you, I leave him on +earth, with strict orders to stay indoors, and open to no one unless he +hears my voice. + +_Her_. Then we may make our way into Attica; hold on to my cloak till I +find Timon's retreat. + +_Pl_. It is just as well to keep touch; if you let me drop behind, I am +as likely as not to be snapped up by Hyperbolus or Cleon. But what is +that noise? it sounds like iron on stone. + +_Her_. Ah, here is Timon close to us; what a steep stony little plot he +has got to dig! Good gracious, I see Poverty and Toil in attendance, +Endurance, Wisdom, Courage, and Hunger's whole company in full +force—much more efficient than your guards, Plutus. + +_Pl_. Oh dear, let us make the best of our way home, Hermes. We shall +never produce any impression on a man surrounded by such troops. + +_Her_. Zeus thought otherwise; so no cowardice. + +_Pov_. Slayer of Argus, whither away, you two hand in hand? + +_Her_. Zeus has sent us to Timon here. + +_Pov_. Now? What has Plutus to do with Timon now? I found him suffering +under Luxury's treatment, put him in the charge of Wisdom and Toil +(whom you see here), and made a good worthy man of him. Do you take me +for such a contemptible helpless creature that you can rob me of my +little all? have I perfected him in virtue, only to see Plutus take +him, trust him to Insolence and Arrogance, make him as soft and limp +and silly as before, and return him to me a worn-out rag again? + +_Her_. It is Zeus's will. + +_Pov_. I am off, then. Toil, Wisdom, and the rest of you, quick march! +Well, he will realize his loss before long; he had a good help meet in +me, and a true teacher; with me he was healthy in body and vigorous in +spirit; he lived the life of a man, and could be independent, and see +the thousand and one needless refinements in all their absurdity. + +_Her_. There they go, Plutus; let us come to him. + +_Tim_. Who are you, villains? What do you want here, interrupting a +hired labourer? You shall have something to take with you, confound you +all! These clods and stones shall provide you with a broken head or +two. + +_Her_. Stop, Timon, don't throw. We are not men; I am Hermes, and this +is Plutus; Zeus has sent us in answer to your prayers. So knock off +work, take your fortune, and much good may it do you! + +_Tim_. I dare say you _are_ Gods; that shall not save you. I hate every +one, man or God; and as for this blind fellow, whoever he may be, I am +going to give him one over the head with my spade. + +_Pl_. For God's sake, Hermes, let us get out of this! the man is +melancholy-mad, I believe; he will do me a mischief before I get off. + +_Her_. Now don't be foolish, Timon; cease overdoing the ill-tempered +boor, hold out your hands, take your luck, and be a rich man again. +Have Athens at your feet, and from your solitary eminence you can +forget ingratitude. + +_Tim_. I have no use for you; leave me in peace; my spade is riches +enough for me; for the rest, I am perfectly happy if people will let me +alone. + +_Her_. My dear sir—so unsociable? + +So stiff and stubborn a reply to Zeus? + + +A misanthrope you may well be, after the way men have treated you; but +with the Gods so thoughtful for you, you need not be a misotheist. + +_Tim_. Very well, Hermes; I am extremely obliged to you and Zeus for +your thoughtfulness—there; but I will not have Plutus. + +_Her_. Why, pray? + +_Tim_. He brought me countless troubles long ago—put me in the power of +flatterers, set designing persons on me, stirred up ill-feeling, +corrupted me with indulgence, exposed me to envy, and wound up with +treacherously deserting me at a moment's notice. Then the excellent +Poverty gave me a drilling in manly labour, conversed with me in all +frankness and sincerity, rewarded my exertions with a sufficiency, and +taught me to despise superfluities; all hopes of a livelihood were to +depend on myself, and I was to know my true wealth, unassailable by +parasites' flattery or informers' threats, hasty legislatures or +decree-mongering legislators, and which even the tyrant's machinations +cannot touch. + +So, toil-hardened, working with a will at this bit of ground, my eyes +rid of city offences, I get bread enough and to spare out of my spade. +Go your ways, then, Hermes, and take Plutus back to Zeus. I am quite +content to let every man of them go hang. + +_Her_. Oh, that would be a pity; they are not all hanging-ripe. Don't +make a passionate child of yourself, but admit Plutus. Zeus's gifts are +too good to be thrown away. + +_Pl_. Will you condescend to argue with me, Timon? or does my voice +provoke you? + +_Tim_. Oh, talk away; but be brief; no rascally lawyer's 'opening the +case.' I can put up with a few words from you, for Hermes' sake. + +_Pl_. A speech of some length might seem to be needed, considering the +number of your charges; however, just examine your imputations of +injustice. It was I that gave you those great objects of +desire—consideration, precedence, honours, and every delight; all eyes +and tongues and attentions were yours—my gifts; and if flatterers +abused you, I am not responsible for that. It is I who should rather +complain; you prostituted me vilely to scoundrels, whose laudations and +cajolery of you were only samples of their designs upon me. As to your +saying that I wound up by betraying you, you have things topsy-turvy +again; _I_ may complain; you took every method to estrange me, and +finally kicked me out neck and crop. That is why your revered Dame +Poverty has supplied you with a smock-frock to replace your soft +raiment. Why, I begged and prayed Zeus (and Hermes heard me) that I +might be excused from revisiting a person who had been so unfriendly to +me as you. + +_Her_. But you see how he is changed, Plutus; you need not be afraid to +live with him now. Just go on digging, Timon; and you, Plutus, put +Thesaurus in position; he will come at your call. + +_Tim_. I must obey, and be a rich man again, Hermes; what can one do, +when Gods insist? But reflect what troubles you are bringing on my +luckless head; I have had a blissful life of late, and now for no fault +of my own I am to have my hands full of gold and care again. + +_Her_. Hard, intolerable fate! yet endure for my sake, if only that the +flatterers may burst themselves with envy. And now for heaven, via +Etna. + +_Pl_. He is off, I suppose, from the beating of his wings. Now, you +stay where you are, while I go and fetch Thesaurus to you; or rather, +dig hard. Here, Gold! Thesaurus I say! answer Timon's summons and let +him unearth you. Now, Timon, with a will; a deep stroke or two. I will +leave you together. + +_Tim_. Come, spade, show your mettle; stick to it; invite Thesaurus to +step up from his retreat…. O God of Wonders! O mystic priests! O lucky +Hermes! whence this flood of gold? Sure, 'tis all a dream; methinks +'twill be ashes when I wake. And yet—coined gold, ruddy and heavy, a +feast of delight! + +O gold, the fairest gift to mortal eyes! + + +be it night, or be it day, + +Thou dost outshine all else like living fire. + + +Come to me, my own, my beloved. I doubt the tale no longer; well might +Zeus take the shape of gold; where is the maid that would not open her +bosom to receive so fair a lover gliding through the roof? + +Talk of Midas, Croesus, Delphic treasures! they were all nothing to +Timon and his wealth; why, the Persian King could not match it. My +spade, my dearest smock-frock, you must hang, a votive offering to Pan. +And now I will buy up this desert corner, and build a tiny castle for +my treasure, big enough for me to live in all alone, and, when I am +dead, to lie in. And be the rule and law of my remaining days to shun +all men, be blind to all men, scorn all men. Friendship, hospitality, +society, compassion—vain words all. To be moved by another's tears, to +assist another's need—be such things illegal and immoral. Let me live +apart like a wolf; be Timon's one friend—Timon. + +All others are my foes and ill-wishers; to hold communion with them is +pollution; to set eyes upon one of them marks the day unholy; let them +be to me even as images of bronze or stone. I will receive no herald +from them, keep with them no truce; the bounds of my desert are the +line they may not cross. Cousin and kinsman, neighbour and +countryman—these are dead useless names, wherein fools may find a +meaning. Let Timon keep his wealth to himself, scorn all men, and live +in solitary luxury, quit of flattery and vulgar praise; let him +sacrifice and feast alone, his own associate and neighbour, far from* +the world. Yea, when his last day comes, let there be none to close his +eyes and lay him out, but himself alone. + +[*Footnote: Reading, with Dindorf, _hekas on_ for _ekseion_.] + + +Be the name he loves Misanthropus, and the marks whereby he may be +known peevishness and spleen, wrath and rudeness and abhorrence. If +ever one burning to death should call for help against the flames, let +me help—with pitch and oil. If another be swept past me by a winter +torrent, and stretch out his hands for aid, then let mine press him +down head under, that he never rise again. So shall they receive as +they have given. Mover of this resolution—Timon, son of Echecratides of +Collytus. Presiding officer—the same Timon. The ayes have it. Let it be +law, and duly observed. + +All the same, I would give a good deal to have the fact of my enormous +wealth generally known; they would all be fit to hang themselves over +it…. Why, what is this? Well, that is quick work. Here they come +running from every point of the compass, all dusty and panting; they +have smelt out the gold somehow or other. Now, shall I get on top of +this knoll, keep up a galling fire of stones from my point of vantage, +and get rid of them that way? Or shall I make an exception to my law by +parleying with them for once? contempt might hit harder than stones. +Yes, I think that is better; I will stay where I am, and receive them. +Let us see, who is this in front? Ah, Gnathonides the flatterer; when I +asked an alms of him the other day, he offered me a halter; many a cask +of my wine has he made a beast of himself over. I congratulate him on +his speed; first come, first served. + +_Gna_. What did I tell them?—Timon was too good a man to be abandoned +by Providence. How are you, Timon? as good-looking and good-tempered, +as good a fellow, as ever? + +_Tim_. And you, Gnathonides, still teaching vultures rapacity, and men +cunning? + +_Gna_. Ah, he always liked his little joke. But where do you dine? I +have brought a new song with me, a march out of the last musical thing +on. + +_Tim_. It will be a funeral march, then, and a very touching one, with +spade _obbligato_. + +_Gna_. What means this? This is assault, Timon; just let me find a +witness! … Oh, my God, my God! … I'll have you before the Areopagus for +assault and battery. + +_Tim_. You'd better not wait much longer, or you'll have to make it +murder. + +_Gna_. Mercy, mercy! … Now, a little gold ointment to heal the wound; +it is a first-rate styptic. + +_Tim_. What! you _won't_ go, won't you? + +_Gna_. Oh, I am going. But you shall repent this. Alas, so genial once, +and now so rude! + +_Tim_. Now who is this with the bald crown? Why, it is Philiades; if +there is a loathsome flatterer, it is he. When I sang that song that +nobody else would applaud, he lauded me to the skies, and swore no +dying swan could be more tuneful; his reward was one of my farms, and a +500 pounds portion for his daughter. And then when he found I was ill, +and had come to him for assistance, his generous aid took the form of +blows. + +_Phil_. You shameless creatures! yes, yes, _now_ you know Timon's +merits! _now_ Gnathonides would be his friend and boon-companion! well, +he has the right reward of ingratitude. Some of us were his familiars +and playmates and neighbours; but _we_ hold back a little; we would not +seem to thrust ourselves upon him. Greeting, lord Timon; pray let me +warn you against these abominable flatterers; they are your humble +servants during meal-times, and else about as useful as carrion crows. +Perfidy is the order of the day; everywhere ingratitude and vileness. I +was just bringing a couple of hundred pounds, for your immediate +necessities, and was nearly here before I heard of your splendid +fortune. So I just came on to give you this word of caution; though +indeed you are wise enough (I would take your advice before Nestor's +myself) to need none of my counsel. + +_Tim_. Quite so, Philiades. But come near, will you not, and receive +my—spade! + +_Phil_. Help, help! this thankless brute has broken my head, for giving +him good counsel. + +_Tim_. Now for number three. Lawyer Demeas—my cousin, as he calls +himself, with a decree in his hand. Between three and four thousand it +was that I paid in to the Treasury in ready money for him; he had been +fined that amount and imprisoned in default, and I took pity on him. +Well, the other day he was distributing-officer of the festival money +[Footnote: Every citizen had the right to receive from the State the +small sum which would pay for his admission to theatrical or other +festival entertainments.]; when I applied for my share, he pretended I +was not a citizen. + +_Dem_. Hail, Timon, ornament of our race, pillar of Athens, shield of +Hellas! The Assembly and both Councils are met, and expect your +appearance. But first hear the decree which I have proposed in your +honour. 'WHEREAS Timon son of Echecratides of Collytus who adds to high +position and character a sagacity unmatched in Greece is a consistent +and indefatigable promoter of his country's good and Whereas he has +been victorious at Olympia on one day in boxing wrestling and running +as well as in the two and the four-horse chariot races—' + +_Tim_. Why, I was never so much as a spectator at Olympia. + +_Dem_. What does that matter? you will be some day. It looks better to +have a good deal of that sort in—'and Whereas he fought with +distinction last year at Acharnae cutting two Peloponnesian companies +to pieces—' + +_Tim_. Good work that, considering that my name was not on the +muster-rolls, because I could not afford a suit of armour. + +_Dem_. Ah, you are modest; but it would be ingratitude in us to forget +your services—'and Whereas by political measures and responsible advice +and military action he has conferred great benefits on his country Now +for all these reasons it is the pleasure of the Assembly and the +Council the ten divisions of the High Court and the Borough Councils +individually and collectively THAT a golden statue of the said Timon be +placed on the Acropolis alongside of Athene with a thunderbolt in the +hand and a seven-rayed aureole on the head Further that golden garlands +be conferred on him and proclaimed this day at the New Tragedies +[Footnote: See _Dionysia_ in Notes] the said day being kept in his +honour as the Dionysia. Mover of the Decree Demeas the pleader the said +Timon's near relation and disciple the said Timon being as +distinguished in pleading as in all else wherein it pleases him to +excel.' + +So runs the decree. I had designed also to present to you my son, whom +I have named Timon after you. + +_Tim_. Why, I thought you were a bachelor, Demeas. + +_Dem_. Ah, but I intend to marry next year; my child—which is to be a +boy—I hereby name Timon. + +_Tim_. I doubt whether you will feel like marrying, my man, when I have +given you—this! + +_Dem_. Oh Lord! what is that for? … You are plotting a _coup d'etat_, +you Timon; you assault free men, and you are neither a free man nor a +citizen yourself. You shall soon be called to account for your crimes; +it was you set fire to the Acropolis, for one thing. + +_Tim_. Why, you scoundrel, the Acropolis has not been set on fire; you +are a common blackmailer. + +_Dem_. You got your gold by breaking into the Treasury. + +_Tim_. It has not been broken into, either; you are not even plausible. + +_Dem_. There is time for the burglary yet; meantime, you are in +possession of the treasures. + +_Tim_. Well, here is another for you, anyhow. + +_Dem_. Oh! oh! my back! + +_Tim_. Don't make such a noise, if you don't want a third. It would be +too absurd, you know, if I could cut two companies of Spartans to +pieces without my armour, and not be able to give a single little +scoundrel his deserts. My Olympic boxing and wrestling victories would +be thrown away. + +Whom have we now? is this Thrasycles the philosopher? sure enough it +is. A halo of beard, eyebrows an inch above their place, superiority in +his air, a look that might storm heaven, locks waving to the wind—'tis +a very Boreas or Triton from Zeuxis' pencil. This hero of the careful +get-up, the solemn gait, the plain attire—in the morning he will utter +a thousand maxims, expounding Virtue, arraigning self- indulgence, +lauding simplicity; and then, when he gets to dinner after his bath, +his servant fills him a bumper (he prefers it neat), and draining this +Lethe-draught he proceeds to turn his morning maxima inside out; he +swoops like a hawk on dainty dishes, elbows his neighbour aside, fouls +his beard with trickling sauce, laps like a dog, with his nose in his +plate, as if he expected to find Virtue there, and runs his finger all +round the bowl, not to lose a drop of the gravy. Let him monopolize +pastry or joint, he will still criticize the carving—that is all the +satisfaction his ravenous greed brings him—; when the wine is in, +singing and dancing are delights not fierce enough; he must brawl and +rave. He has plenty to say in his cups—he is then at his best in that +kind—upon temperance and decorum; he is full of these when his +potations have reduced him to ridiculous stuttering. Next the wine +disagrees with him, and at last he is carried out of the room, holding +on with all his might to the flute-girl. Take him sober, for that +matter, and you will hardly find his match at lying, effrontery or +avarice. He is _facile princeps_ of flatterers, perjury sits on his +tongue-tip, imposture goes before him, and shamelessness is his good +comrade; oh, he is a most ingenious piece of work, finished at all +points, a _multum in parvo_. I am afraid his kind heart will be grieved +presently. Why, how is this, Thrasycles? I must say, you have taken +your time about coming. + +_Thr_. Ah, Timon, I am not come like the rest of the crowd; _they_ are +dazzled by your wealth; they are gathered together with an eye to gold +and silver and high living; they will soon be showing their servile +tricks before your unsuspicious, generous self. As for me, you know a +crust is all the dinner I care for; the relish I like best is a bit of +thyme or cress; on festal days I may go as far as a sprinkling of salt. +My drink is the crystal spring; and this threadbare cloak is better +than your gay robes. Gold—I value it no higher than pebbles on the +beach. What brought _me_ was concern for you; I would not have you +ruined by this same pestilent wealth, this temptation for plunderers; +many is the man it has sunk in helpless misery. Take my advice, and +fling it bodily into the sea; a good man, to whom the wealth of +philosophy is revealed, has no need of the other. It does not matter +about deep water, my good sir; wade in up to your waist when the tide +is near flood, and _let no one see you but me_. Or if that is not +satisfactory, here is another plan even better. Get it all out of the +house as quick as you can, not reserving a penny for yourself, and +distribute it to the poor five shillings to one, five pounds to +another, a hundred to a third; philosophy might constitute a claim to a +double or triple share. For my part—and I do not ask for myself, only +to divide it among my needy friends—I should be quite content with as +much as my scrip would hold; it is something short of two standard +bushels; if one professes philosophy, one must be moderate and have few +needs—none that go beyond the capacity of a scrip. + +_Tim_. Very right, Thrasycles. But instead of a mere scripful, pray +take a whole headful of clouts, standard measure by the spade. + +_Thr_. Land of liberty, equality, legality! protect me against this +ruffian! + +_Tim_. What is your grievance, my good man? is the measure short? here +is a pint or two extra, then, to put it right. + +Why, what now? here comes a crowd; friend Blepsias, Laches, Gniphon; +their name is legion; they shall howl soon. I had better get up on the +rock; my poor tired spade wants a little rest; I will collect all the +stones I can lay hands on, and pepper them at long range. + +_Bl_. Don't throw, Timon; we are going. + +_Tim_. Whether the retreat will be bloodless, however, is another +question. + +H. + + + +PROMETHEUS ON CAUCASUS + +_Hermes. Hephaestus. Prometheus._ + +_Her_. This, Hephaestus, is the Caucasus, to which it is our painful +duty to nail our companion. We have now to select a suitable crag, free +from snow, on which the chains will have a good hold, and the prisoner +will hang in all publicity. + +_Heph_. True. It will not do to fix him too low down, or these _men_ of +his might come to their maker's assistance; nor at the top, where he +would be invisible from the earth. What do you say to a middle course? +Let him hang over this precipice, with his arms stretched across from +crag to crag. + +_Her_. The very thing. Steep rocks, slightly overhanging, inaccessible +on every side; no foothold but a mere ledge, with scarcely room for the +tips of one's toes; altogether a sweet spot for a crucifixion. Now, +Prometheus, come and be nailed up; there is no time to lose. + +_Prom_. Nay, hear me; Hephaestus! Hermes! I suffer injustice: have +compassion on my woes! + +_Her_. In other words, disobey orders, and promptly be gibbeted in your +stead! Do you suppose there is not room on the Caucasus to peg out a +couple of us? Come, your right hand! clamp it down, Hephaestus, and in +with the nails; bring down the hammer with a will. Now the left; make +sure work of that too.—So!—The eagle will shortly be here, to trim your +liver; so ingenious an artist is entitled to every attention. + +_Prom_. O Cronus, and Iapetus, and Mother Earth! Behold the sufferings +of the innocent! + +_Her_. Why, as to innocence,—to begin with, there was that business of +the sacrificial meats, your manner of distributing which was most +unfair, most disingenuous: you got all the choice parts for yourself, +and put Zeus off with bones 'wrapped up in shining fat'; I remember the +passage in Hesiod; those are his very words. Then you made these human +beings; creatures of unparalleled wickedness, the women especially. And +to crown all, you stole fire, the most precious possession of the Gods, +and gave it to them. And with all this on your conscience, you protest +that you have done nothing to deserve captivity. + +_Prom_. Ah, Hermes; you are as bad as Hector; you 'blame the +blameless.' For such crimes as these, I deserve a round pension, if +justice were done. And by the way, I should like, if you can spare the +time, to answer to these charges, and satisfy you of the injustice of +my sentence. You can employ your practised eloquence on behalf of Zeus, +and justify his conduct in nailing me up here at the Gates of the +Caspian, for all Scythia to behold and pity. + +_Her_. There is nothing to be gained now by an appeal to another court; +it is too late. Proceed, however. We have to wait in any case till the +eagle comes to look after that liver of yours; and the time might be +worse spent than in listening to the subtleties of such a master in +impudence as yourself. + +_Prom_. You begin then, Hermes. Exert all your powers of invective; +leave no stone unturned to establish the righteousness of papa's +judgements.—You, Hephaestus, shall compose the jury. + +_Heph_. The jury! Not a bit of it; I am a party in this case. My +furnace has been cold, ever since you stole that fire. + +_Prom_. Well, at this rate you had better divide the prosecution +between you. You conduct the case of larceny, and Hermes can handle the +man-making, and the misappropriation of meat. I shall expect a great +deal of you; you are both artists. + +_Heph_. Hermes shall speak for me. The law is not in my line; my forge +takes up most of my time. But Hermes is an orator; he has made a study +of these things. + +_Prom_. Well! I should never have thought that Hermes would have the +heart to reproach me with larceny; he ought to have a fellow-feeling +for me there. However, with this further responsibility on your +shoulders, there is no time to be lost, son of Maia; out with your +accusation, and have done with it. + +_Her_. To deal adequately with your crimes, Prometheus, would require +many words and much preparation. It is not enough to mention the +several counts of the accusation; how, entrusted with the distribution +of meats, you defrauded the crown by retaining the choicer portions for +your own use; how you created the race of men, with absolutely no +justification for so doing; how you stole fire and conveyed it to these +same men. You seem not to realize, my friend, that, all-things +considered, Zeus has dealt very handsomely by you. Now, if you deny the +charges, I shall be compelled to establish your guilt at some length, +and to set the facts in the clearest possible light. But if you admit +the distribution of meat in the manner described, the introduction of +men, and the theft of fire,—then my case is complete, and there is no +more to be said. To expatiate further would be to talk nonsense. + +_Prom_. Perhaps there has been some nonsense talked already; that +remains to be seen. But as you say your case is now complete, I will +see what I can do in the way of refutation. And first about that meat. +Though, upon my word, I blush for Zeus when I name it: to think that he +should be so touchy about trifles, as to send off a God of my quality +to crucifixion, just because he found a little bit of bone in his +share! Does he forget the services I have rendered him? And does he +think what it is that he is so angry about, and how childish it is to +show temper about a little thing like that? What if he did miss getting +the better share? Why, Hermes, these tricks that are played over the +wine-cups are not worth thinking twice about. A joke, perhaps, is +carried a little too far, in the warmth of the feast; still, it is a +joke, and resentment should be left behind in the dregs of the bowl. I +have no patience with your long memories; this nursing of grievances, +this raking up of last night's squabbles, is unworthy of a king, let +alone a king of Gods. Once take away from our feasts the little +elegancies of quip and crank and wile, and what is left? Muzziness; +repletion; silence;—cheerful accompaniments these to the wine-bowl! For +my part, I never supposed that Zeus would give the matter a thought the +next morning; much less that he would make such a stir about it, and +think himself so mightily injured; my little manoeuvre with the meat +was merely a playful experiment, to see which he would choose. It might +have been worse. Instead of giving him the inferior half, I might have +defrauded him of the whole. And what if I had? Would that have been a +case for putting heaven and earth in commotion, for deep designs of +chain and cross and Caucasus, dispatchings of eagles, rendings of +livers? These things tell a sad tale, do they not, of the puny soul, +the little mind, the touchy temper of the aggrieved party? How would he +take the loss of a whole ox, who storms to such purpose over a few +pounds of meat? How much more reasonable is the conduct of mortals, +though one would have expected them to be more irritable than Gods! A +mortal would never want his cook crucified for dipping a finger into +the stew-pan, or filching a mouthful from the roast; they overlook +these things. At the worst their resentment is satisfied with a box on +the ears or a rap on the head. I find no precedent among them for +crucifixion in such cases. So much for the affair of the meat; there is +little credit to be got in the refutation of such a charge, and still +less in the bringing of it. + +I am next to speak of my creation of mankind. And here the terms of +your accusation are ambiguous. I have to choose between two distinct +possibilities. Do you maintain that I had no right to create men at +all, that I ought to have left the senseless clay alone? Or do you only +complain of the form in which I designed them? However, I shall have +something to say on both points. I shall first endeavour to show that +no harm has accrued to the Gods from my bringing mankind into +existence; and shall then proceed to the positive advantages and +improvements which have resulted to them from the peopling of the +earth. The question as to the harm done by my innovation is best +answered by an appeal to the past, to those days when the race of +heaven-born Gods stood alone, and earth was a hideous shapeless mass, a +tangle of rude vegetation. The Gods had no altars then, nor temples +(for who should raise them?), no images of wood or stone, such as now +abound in every corner of the earth, and are honoured with all +observance. It was to me that the idea occurred—amid my ceaseless +meditations on the common welfare, on the aggrandizement of the Gods +and the promotion of order and beauty in the universe—of setting all to +rights with a handful of clay; of creating living things, and moulding +them after our own likeness. I saw what was lacking to our godhead: +some counterpart, some foil wherein to set off its blessedness. And +that counterpart must be mortal; but in all else exquisitely contrived, +perfect in intelligence, keen to appreciate our superiority. Thereupon, +I moulded my material, + +With water mingling clay, + + +and created man, calling in Athene to aid me in the task. And this is +my rank offence against the Gods. Destructive work,—to reduce inanimate +clay to life and motion! The Gods, it seems, are Gods no longer, now +that there are mortal creatures on the earth. To judge at least by +Zeus's indignation, one would suppose that the Gods suffered some loss +of prestige from the creation of mankind; unless it is that he is +afraid of another revolt, of their waging war with heaven, like the +Giants. + +That the cause of the Gods suffered nothing at my hands is evident; +show me the slightest instance to the contrary, and I will say no more; +I have but my deserts. But for the positive benefits I have conferred, +use the evidence of your eyes. The earth, no longer barren and +untilled, is decked with cities and farms and the fruits of +cultivation; the sea has its ships, the islands their inhabitants. +Everywhere are altars and temples, everywhere festivals and sacrifices: + + Zeus with his presence fills their gatherings, + He fills their streets. + + +Had I created mankind for my own private convenience, it might perhaps +have denoted a grasping spirit: but I made them common property; they +are at the service of every God of you. Nay more: temples of Zeus, and +Apollo, and Hera, temples of Hermes, are everywhere to be seen; but who +ever saw a temple of Prometheus? You may judge from this, how far I +have sacrificed the common cause to my private ambition. + +And further. Consider, Hermes: can any good thing whatsoever, be it +gift of Nature or work of our hands, give the full measure of enjoyment +to its possessor, when there is none to see, none to admire? You see +whither my question tends? But for mankind, the glories of the universe +must have been without a witness; and there was little satisfaction to +be derived from a wealth which was doomed to excite no envy in others. +We should have lacked a standard for comparison; and should never have +known the extent of our happiness, while all were as happy as +ourselves. The great is not great, till it is compared with the small. +Yet instead of honouring me for my political insight, you crucify me; +such are the wages of wisdom! + +Ah, but (you will say) there is so much wickedness among them; +adultery, war, incest, parricide. Well, I fancy these are not unknown +among ourselves? And I am sure no one would think that a reason for +saying that Uranus and Ge made a mistake in creating us. Or again, you +will complain that we have so much trouble in looking after them. At +that rate, a shepherd ought to object to the possession of a flock, +because he has to look after it. Besides, a certain show of occupation +is rather gratifying than otherwise; the responsibility is not +unwelcome,—it helps to pass the time. What should we do, if we had not +mankind to think of? There would be nothing to live for; we should sit +about drinking nectar and gorging ourselves with ambrosia. But what +fairly takes away my breath is, your assurance in finding fault with my +_women_ in particular, when all the time you are in love with them: our +bulls and satyrs and swans are never tired of making descents upon the +Earth; women, they find, are good enough to be made the mothers of +Gods! + +Yes, yes (you will say), it was quite right that men should be created, +but they should not have been made in our likeness. And what better +model could I have taken than this, whose perfection I knew? Was I to +make them brute beasts without understanding? Had they been other than +they are, how should they have paid you due honour and sacrifice? When +the hecatombs are getting ready, you think nothing of a journey to the +ends of the earth to see the 'blameless Ethiopians'; and my reward for +procuring you these advantages is—crucifixion! But on this subject I +have said enough. + +And now, with your permission, I will approach the subject of that +stolen fire, of which we hear so much. I have a question to ask, which +I beg you will answer frankly. Has there been one spark less fire in +Heaven, since men shared it with us? Of course not. It is the nature of +fire, that it does not become less by being imparted to others. A fire +is not put out by kindling another from it. No, this is sheer envy: you +cannot bear that men should have a share of this necessary, though you +have suffered no harm thereby. For shame! Gods should be beneficent, +'givers of good'; they should be above all envy. Had I taken away fire +altogether, and left not a spark behind, it would have been no great +loss. You have no use for it. You are never cold; you need no +artificial light; nor is ambrosia improved by boiling. To man, on the +other hand, fire is indispensable for many purposes, particularly for +those of sacrifice; how else are they to fill their streets with the +savour of burnt-offerings, and the fumes of frankincense? how else to +burn fat thigh-pieces upon your altars? I observe that you take a +particular pleasure in the steam arising therefrom, and think no feast +more delicious than the smell of roast meat, as it mounts heavenwards + +In eddying clouds of smoke. + + +Your present complaint, you see, is sadly at variance with this taste. +I wonder you do not forbid the Sun to shine on mankind. He too is of +fire, and fire of a purer and diviner quality. Has anything been said +to _him_ about his lavish expenditure of your property? + +And now I have done. If there is any flaw in my defence, it is for you +two to refute me. I shall answer your objections in due course. + +_Her_. Nay, you are too hard for us, Prometheus; we will not attempt a +sophist of your mettle. Well for you that Zeus is not within earshot, +or you would have had a round dozen of hungry vultures to reckon with, +for certain; in clearing your own character, you have grievously +mishandled his. But one thing puzzles me: you are a prophet; you ought +to have foreseen your sentence. + +_Prom_. All this I knew, and more than this; for I shall be released; +nay, even now the day is not far off when one of your blood shall come +from Thebes, and shoot this eagle with which you threaten me [Footnote: +See _Prometheus_ in Notes.]. + +_Her_. With all my heart! I shall be delighted to see you free again, +and feasting in our midst; but not, my friend, not carving for us! + +_Prom_. You may take my word for it; I shall be with you again. I have +the wherewithal to pay abundantly for my ransom. + +_Her_. Oh, indeed? Come, tell us all about it. + +_Prom_. You know Thetis—But no; the secret is best kept. Ransom and +reward depend upon it. + +_Her_. Well, you know best. Now, Hephaestus, we must be going; see, +here comes the eagle.—Bear a brave heart, Prometheus; and all speed to +your Theban archer, who is to set a term to this creature's activity. + +F. + + + +DIALOGUES OF THE GODS + +I + +_Prometheus. Zeus_ + +_Prom_. Release me, Zeus; I have suffered enough. + +_Zeus_. Release you? you? Why, by rights your irons should be heavier, +you should have the whole weight of Caucasus upon you, and instead of +one, a dozen vultures, not just pecking at your liver, but scratching +out your eyes. You made these abominable human creatures to vex us, you +stole our fire, you invented women. I need not remind you how you +overreached me about the meat-offerings; my portion, bones disguised in +fat: yours, all the good. + +_Prom_. And have I not been punished enough—riveted to the Caucasus all +these years, feeding your bird (on which all worst curses light!) with +my liver? + +_Zeus_. 'Tis not a tithe of your deserts. + +_Prom_. Consider, I do not ask you to release me for nothing. I offer +you information which is invaluable. + +_Zeus_. Promethean wiles! + +_Prom_. Wiles? to what end? you can find the Caucasus another time; and +there are chains to be had, if you catch me cheating. + +_Zeus_. Tell me first the nature of your 'invaluable' offer. + +_Prom_. If I tell you your present errand right, will that convince you +that I can prophesy too? + +_Zeus_. Of course it will. + +_Prom_. You are bound on a little visit to Thetis. + +_Zeus_. Right so far. And the sequel? I trust you now. + +_Prom_. Have no dealings with her, Zeus. As sure as Nereus's daughter +conceives by you, your child shall mete you the measure you meted to— + +_Zeus_. I shall lose my kingdom, you would say? + +_Prom_. Avert it, Fate! I say only, that union portends this issue. + +_Zeus_. Thetis, farewell! and for this Hephaestus shall set you free. + +H. + +II + +_Eros. Zeus_ + +_Eros_. You might let me off, Zeus! I suppose it _was_ rather too bad +of me; but there!—I am but a child; a wayward child. + +_Zeus_. A child, and born before Iapetus was ever thought of? You bad +old man! Just because you have no beard, and no white hairs, are you +going to pass yourself off for a child? + +_Eros_. Well, and what such mighty harm has the old man ever done you, +that you should talk of chains? + +_Zeus_. Ask your own guilty conscience, what harm. The pranks you have +played me! Satyr, bull, swan, eagle, shower of gold,—I have been +everything in my time; and I have you to thank for it. You never by any +chance make the women in love with _me_; no one is ever smitten with +_my_ charms, that I have noticed. No, there must be magic in it always; +I must be kept well out of sight. They like the bull or the swan well +enough: but once let them set eyes on _me_, and they are frightened out +of their lives. + +_Eros_. Well, of course. They are but mortals; the sight of Zeus is too +much for them. + +_Zeus_. Then why are Branchus and Hyacinth so fond of Apollo? + +_Eros_. Daphne ran away from him, anyhow; in spite of his beautiful +hair and his smooth chin. Now, shall I tell you the way to win hearts? +Keep that aegis of yours quiet, and leave the thunderbolt at home; make +yourself as smart as you can; curl your hair and tie it up with a bit +of ribbon, get a purple cloak, and gold-bespangled shoes, and march +forth to the music of flute and drum;—and see if you don't get a finer +following than Dionysus, for all his Maenads. + +_Zeus_. Pooh! I'll win no hearts on such terms. + +_Eros_. Oh, in that case, don't fall in love. Nothing could be simpler. + +_Zeus_. I dare say; but I like being in love, only I don't like all +this fuss. Now mind; if I let you off, it is on this understanding. + +F. + +III + +_Zeus. Hermes_ + +_Zeus_. Hermes, you know Inachus's beautiful daughter? + +_Her_. I do. Io, you mean? + +_Zeus_. Yes; she is not a girl now, but a heifer. + +_Her_. Magic at work! how did that come about? + +_Zeus_. Hera had a jealous fit, and transformed her. But that is not +all; she has thought of a new punishment for the poor thing. She has +put a cowherd in charge, who is all over eyes; this Argus, as he is +called, pastures the heifer, and never goes to sleep. + +_Her_. Well, what am I to do? + +_Zeus_. Fly down to Nemea, where the pasture is, kill Argus, take Io +across the sea to Egypt, and convert her into Isis. She shall be +henceforth an Egyptian Goddess, flood the Nile, regulate the winds, and +rescue mariners. + +H. + +VI + +_Hera. Zeus_ + +_Hera_. Zeus! What is your opinion of this man Ixion? + +_Zeus_. Why, my dear, I think he is a very good sort of man; and the +best of company. Indeed, if he were unworthy of our company, he would +not be here. + +_Hera_. He _is_ unworthy! He is a villain! Discard him! + +_Zeus_. Eh? What has he been after? I must know about this. + +_Hera_. Certainly you must; though I scarce know how to tell you. The +wretch! + +_Zeus_. Oh, oh; if he is a 'wretch,' you must certainly tell me all +about it. I know what 'wretch' means, on your discreet tongue. What, he +has been making love? + +_Hera_. And to me! to me of all people! It has been going on for a long +time. At first, when he would keep looking at me, I had no idea—. And +then he would sigh and groan; and when I handed my cup to Ganymede +after drinking, he would insist on having it, and would stop drinking +to kiss it, and lift it up to his eyes; and then he would look at me +again. And then of course I knew. For a long time I didn't like to say +anything to you; I thought his mad fit would pass. But when he actually +dared to _speak_ to me, I left him weeping and groveling about, and +stopped my ears, so that I might not hear his impertinences, and came +to tell you. It is for you to consider what steps you will take. + +_Zeus_. Whew! I have a rival, I find; and with my own lawful wife. Here +is a rascal who has tippled nectar to some purpose. Well, we have no +one but ourselves to blame for it: we make too much of these mortals, +admitting them to our table like this. When they drink of our nectar, +and behold the beauties of Heaven (so different from those of Earth!), +'tis no wonder if they fall in love, and form ambitious schemes! Yes, +Love is all-powerful; and not with mortals only: we Gods have sometimes +fallen beneath his sway. + +_Hera_. He has made himself master of _you_; no doubt of that. He does +what he likes with you;—leads you by the nose. You follow him whither +he chooses, and assume every shape at his command; you are his chattel, +his toy. I know how it will be: you are going to let Ixion off, because +you have had relations with his wife; she is the mother of Pirithous. + +_Zeus_. Why, what a memory you have for these little outings of +mine!—Now, my idea about Ixion is this. It would never do to punish +him, or to exclude him from our table; that would not look well. No; as +he is so fond of you, so hard hit—even to weeping point, you tell me,— + +_Hera_. Zeus! What _are_ you going to say? + +_Zeus_. Don't be alarmed. Let us make a cloud-phantom in your likeness, +and after dinner, as he lies awake (which of course he will do, being +in love), let us take it and lay it by his side. 'Twill put him out of +his pain: he will fancy he has attained his desire. + +_Hera_. Never! The presumptuous villain! + +_Zeus_. Yes, I know. But what harm can it do to you, if Ixion makes a +conquest of a cloud? + +_Hera_. But he will think that _I_ am the cloud; he will be working his +wicked will upon _me_ for all he can tell. + +_Zeus_. Now you are talking nonsense. The cloud is not Hera, and Hera +is not the cloud. Ixion will be deceived; that is all. + +_Hera_. Yes, but these men are all alike—they have no delicacy. I +suppose, when he goes home, he will boast to every one of how he has +enjoyed the embraces of Hera, the wife of Zeus! Why, he may tell them +that _I_ am in love with _him_! And they will believe it; _they_ will +know nothing about the cloud. + +_Zeus_. If he says anything of the kind he shall soon find himself in +Hades, spinning round on a wheel for all eternity. That will keep him +busy! And serve him right; not for falling in love—I see no great harm +in that—but for letting his tongue wag. + +F. + +VII + +_Hephaestus. Apollo_ + +_Heph_. Have you seen Maia's baby, Apollo? such a pretty little thing, +with a smile for everybody; you can see it is going to be a treasure. + +_Ap_. That baby a treasure? well, in mischief, Iapetus is young beside +it. + +_Heph_. Why, what harm can it do, only just born? + +_Ap_. Ask Posidon; it stole his trident. Ask Ares; he was surprised to +find his sword gone out of the scabbard. Not to mention myself, +disarmed of bow and arrows. + +_Heph_. Never! that infant? he has hardly found his legs yet; he is not +out of his baby-linen. + +_Ap_. Ah, you will find out, Hephaestus, if he gets within reach of +you. + +_Heph_. He has been. + +_Ap_. Well? all your tools safe? none missing? + +_Heph_. Of course not. + +_Ap_. I advise you to make sure. + +_Heph_. Zeus! where are my pincers? + +_Ap_. Ah, you will find them among the baby-linen. + +_Heph_. So light-fingered? one would swear he had practised petty +larceny in the womb. + +_Ap_. Ah, and you don't know what a glib young chatterbox he is; and, +if he has his way, he is to be our errand-boy! Yesterday he challenged +Eros—tripped up his heels somehow, and had him on his back in a +twinkling; before the applause was over, he had taken the opportunity +of a congratulatory hug from Aphrodite to steal her girdle; Zeus had +not done laughing before—the sceptre was gone. If the thunderbolt had +not been too heavy, and very hot, he would have made away with that +too. + +_Heph_. The child has some spirit in him, by your account. + +_Ap_. Spirit, yes—and some music, moreover, young as he is. + +_Heph_. How can you tell that? + +_Ap_. He picked up a dead tortoise somewhere or other, and contrived an +instrument with it. He fitted horns to it, with a cross-bar, stuck in +pegs, inserted a bridge, and played a sweet tuneful thing that made an +old harper like me quite envious. Even at night, Maia was saying, he +does not stay in Heaven; he goes down poking his nose into Hades—on a +thieves' errand, no doubt. Then he has a pair of wings, and he has made +himself a magic wand, which he uses for marshalling souls—convoying the +dead to their place. + +_Heph_. Ah, I gave him that, for a toy. + +_Ap_. And by way of payment he stole— + +_Heph_. Well thought on; I must go and get them; you may be right about +the baby-linen. + +H. + + +VIII _Hephaestus. Zeus_ + +_Heph_. What are your orders, Zeus? You sent for me, and here I am; +with such an edge to my axe as would cleave a stone at one blow. + +_Zeus_. Ah; that's right, Hephaestus. Just split my head in half, will +you? + +_Heph_. You think I am mad, perhaps?—Seriously, now, what can I do for +you? + +_Zeus_. What I say: crack my skull. Any insubordination, now, and you +shall taste my resentment; it will not be the first time. Come, a good +lusty stroke, and quick about it. I am in the pangs of travail; my +brain is in a whirl. + +_Heph_. Mind you, the consequences may be serious: the axe is sharp, +and will prove but a rough midwife. + +_Zeus_. Hew away, and fear nothing. I know what I am about. + +_Heph_. H'm. I don't like it: however, one must obey orders…. Why, what +have we here? A maiden in full armour! This is no joke, Zeus. You might +well be waspish, with this great girl growing up beneath your _pia +mater_; in armour, too! You have been carrying a regular barracks on +your shoulders all this time. So active too! See, she is dancing a +war-dance, with shield and spear in full swing. She is like one +inspired; and (what is more to the point) she is extremely pretty, and +has come to marriageable years in these few minutes; those grey eyes, +even, look well beneath a helmet. Zeus, I claim her as the fee for my +midwifery. + +_Zeus_. Impossible! She is determined to remain a maid for ever. Not +that _I_ have any objection, personally. + +_Heph_. That is all I want. You can leave the rest to me. I'll carry +her off this moment. + +_Zeus_. Well, if you think it so easy. But I am sure it is a hopeless +case. + +F. + +XI + +_Aphrodite. Selene_ + +_Aph_. What is this I hear about you, Selene? When your car is over +Caria, you stop it to gaze at Endymion sleeping hunter-fashion in the +open; sometimes, they tell me, you actually get out and go down to him. + +_Sel_. Ah, Aphrodite, ask that son of yours; it is he must answer for +it all. + +_Aph_. Well now, what a naughty boy! he gets his own mother into all +sorts of scrapes; I must go down, now to Ida for Anchises of Troy, now +to Lebanon for my Assyrian stripling;—mine? no, he put Persephone in +love with him too, and so robbed me of half my darling. I have told him +many a time that if he would not behave himself I would break his +artillery for him, and clip his wings; and before now I have smacked +his little behind with my slipper. It is no use; he is frightened and +cries for a minute or two, and then forgets all about it. But tell me, +is Endymion handsome? That is always a comfort in our humiliation. + +_Sel_. _Most_ handsome, _I_ think, my dear; you should see him when he +has spread out his cloak on the rock and is asleep; his javelins in his +left hand, just slipping from his grasp, the right arm bent upwards, +making a bright frame to the face, and he breathing softly in helpless +slumber. Then I come noiselessly down, treading on tiptoe not to wake +and startle him—but there, you know all about it; why tell you the +rest? I am dying of love, that is all. + +H. + +XII + +_Aphrodite. Eros_ + +_Aph_. Child, child, you must think what you are doing. It is bad +enough on earth,—you are always inciting men to do some mischief, to +themselves or to one another;—but I am speaking of the Gods. You change +Zeus into shape after shape as the fancy takes you; you make Selene +come down from the sky; you keep Helius loitering about with Clymene, +till he sometimes forgets to drive out at all. As for the naughty +tricks you play on your own mother, you know you are safe there. But +Rhea! how could you _dare_ to set her on thinking of that young fellow +in Phrygia, an old lady like her, the mother of so many Gods? Why, you +have made her quite mad: she harnesses those lions of hers, and drives +about all over Ida with the Corybantes, who are as mad as herself, +shrieking high and low for Attis; and there they are, slashing their +arms with swords, rushing about over the hills, like wild things, with +dishevelled hair, blowing horns, beating drums, clashing cymbals; all +Ida is one mad tumult. I am quite uneasy about it; yes, you wicked boy, +your poor mother is quite uneasy: some day when Rhea is in one of her +mad fits (or when she is in her senses, more likely), she will send the +Corybantes after you, with orders to tear you to pieces, or throw you +to the lions. You are so venturesome! + +_Eros_. Be under no alarm, mother; I understand lions perfectly by this +time. I get on to their backs every now and then, and take hold of +their manes, and ride them about; and when I put my hand into their +mouths, they only lick it, and let me take it out again. Besides, how +is Rhea going to have time to attend to me? She is too busy with Attis. +And I see no harm in just pointing out beautiful things to people; they +can leave them alone;—it is nothing to do with me. And how would you +like it if Ares were not in love with you, or you with him? + +_Aph_. Masterful boy! always the last word! But you will remember this +some day. + +F. + +XIII + +_Zeus. Asclepius. Heracles_ + +_Zeus_. Now, Asclepius and Heracles, stop that quarrelling; you might +as well be men; such behaviour is very improper and out of place at the +table of the Gods. + +_Her_. Is this druggist fellow to have a place above me, Zeus? + +_Asc_. Of course I am; I am your better. + +_Her_. Why, you numskull? because it was Zeus's bolt that cracked your +skull, for your unholy doings, and now you have been allowed your +immortality again out of sheer pity? + +_Asc_. You twit me with my fiery end; you seem to have forgotten that +you too were burnt to death, on Oeta. + +_Her_. Was there no difference between your life and mine, then? I am +Zeus's son, and it is well known how I toiled, cleansing the earth, +conquering monsters, and chastising men of violence. Whereas you are a +root-grubber and a quack; I dare say you have your use for doctoring +sick men, but you never did a bold deed in your life. + +_Asc_. That comes well from you, whose burns I healed, when you came up +all singed not so long ago; between the tunic and the flames, your body +was half consumed. Anyhow, it would be enough to mention that I was +never a slave like you, never combed wool in Lydia, masquerading in a +purple shawl and being slippered by an Omphale, never killed my wife +and children in a fit of the spleen. + +_Her._ If you don't stop being rude, I shall soon show you that +immortality is not much good. I will take you up and pitch you head +over heels out of Heaven, and Apollo himself shall never mend your +broken crown. + +_Zeus._ Cease, I say, and let us hear ourselves speak, or I will send +you both away from table. Heracles, Asclepius died before you, and has +the right to a better place. + +H. + +XIV + +_Hermes. Apollo_ + +_Her_. Why so sad, Apollo? + +_Ap_. Alas, Hermes,—my love! + +_Her_. Oh; that's bad. What, are you still brooding over that affair of +Daphne? + +_Ap_. No. I grieve for my beloved; the Laconian, the son of Oebalus. + +_Her_. Hyacinth? he is not dead? + +_Ap_. Dead. + +_Her_. Who killed him? Who could have the heart? That lovely boy! + +_Ap_. It was the work of my own hand. + +_Her_. You must have been mad! + +_Ap_. Not mad; it was an accident. + +_Her_. Oh? and how did it happen? + +_Ap_. He was learning to throw the quoit, and I was throwing with him. +I had just sent my quoit up into the air as usual, when jealous Zephyr +(damned be he above all winds! he had long been in love with Hyacinth, +though Hyacinth would have nothing to say to him)—Zephyr came +blustering down from Taygetus, and dashed the quoit upon the child's +head; blood flowed from the wound in streams, and in one moment all was +over. My first thought was of revenge; I lodged an arrow in Zephyr, and +pursued his flight to the mountain. As for the child, I buried him at +Amyclae, on the fatal spot; and from his blood I have caused a flower +to spring up, sweetest, fairest of flowers, inscribed with letters of +woe.—Is my grief unreasonable? + +_Her_. It is, Apollo. You knew that you had set your heart upon a +mortal: grieve not then for his mortality. + +F. + +XV + +_Hermes. Apollo_ + +_Her_. To think that a cripple and a blacksmith like him should marry +two such queens of beauty as Aphrodite and Charis! + +_Ap_. Luck, Hermes—that is all. But I do wonder at their putting up +with his company; they see him running with sweat, bent over the forge, +all sooty-faced; and yet they cuddle and kiss him, and sleep with him! + +_Her_. Yes, it makes me angry too; how I envy him! Ah, Apollo, you may +let your locks grow, and play your harp, and be proud of your looks; I +am a healthy fellow, and can touch the lyre; but, when it comes to +bedtime, we lie alone. + +_Ap_. Well, my loves never prosper; Daphne and Hyacinth were my great +passions; she so detested me that being turned to a tree was more +attractive than I; and him I killed with a quoit. Nothing is left me of +them but wreaths of their leaves and flowers. + +_Her_. Ah, once, once, I and Aphrodite—but no; no boasting. + +_Ap_. I know; that is how Hermaphroditus is accounted for. But perhaps +you can tell me how it is that Aphrodite and Charis are not jealous of +one another. + +_Her_. Because one is his wife in Lemnus and the other in Heaven. +Besides, Aphrodite cares most about Ares; he is her real love; so she +does not trouble her head about the blacksmith. + +_Ap_. Do you think Hephaestus sees? + +_Her_. Oh, he sees, yes; but what can he do? he knows what a martial +young fellow it is; so he holds his tongue. He talks of inventing a +net, though, to take them in the act with. + +_Ap_. Ah, all I know is, I would not mind being taken in that act. + +H. + +XVI + +_Hera. Leto_ + +_Hera_. I must congratulate you, madam, on the children with whom you +have presented Zeus. + +_Leto_. Ah, madam; we cannot all be the proud mothers of Hephaestuses. + +_Hera_. My boy may be a cripple, but at least he is of some use. He is +a wonderful smith, and has made Heaven look another place; and +Aphrodite thought him worth marrying, and dotes on him still. But those +two of yours !—that girl is wild and mannish to a degree; and now she +has gone off to Scythia, and her doings _there_ are no secret; she is +as bad as any Scythian herself,—butchering strangers and eating them! +Apollo, too, who pretends to be so clever, with his bow and his lyre +and his medicine and his prophecies; those oracle-shops that he has +opened at Delphi, and Clarus, and Dindyma, are a cheat; he takes good +care to be on the safe side by giving ambiguous answers that no one can +understand, and makes money out of it, for there are plenty of fools +who like being imposed upon,—but sensible people know well enough that +most of it is clap-trap. The prophet did not know that he was to kill +his favourite with a quoit; he never foresaw that Daphne would run away +from him, so handsome as he is, too, such beautiful hair! I am not +sure, after all, that there is much to choose between your children and +Niobe's. + +_Leto_. Oh, of course; my children are butchers and impostors. I know +how you hate the sight of them. You cannot bear to hear my girl +complimented on her looks, or my boy's playing admired by the company. + +_Hera_. His playing, madam!—excuse a smile;—why, if the Muses had not +favoured him, his contest with Marsyas would have cost him his skin; +poor Marsyas was shamefully used on that occasion; 'twas a judicial +murder.—As for your charming daughter, when Actaeon once caught sight +of her charms, she had to set the dogs upon him, for fear he should +tell all he knew: I forbear to ask where the innocent child picked up +her knowledge of obstetrics. + +_Leto_. You set no small value on yourself, madam, because you are the +wife of Zeus, and share his throne; you may insult whom you please. But +there will be tears presently, when the next bull or swan sets out on +his travels, and you are left neglected. + +F. + +XVIII + +_Hera. Zeus_ + +_Hera_. Well, Zeus, I should be ashamed if _I_ had such a son; so +effeminate, and so given to drinking; tying up his hair in a ribbon, +indeed! and spending most of his time among mad women, himself as much +a woman as any of them; dancing to flute and drum and cymbal! He +resembles any one rather than his father. + +_Zeus_. Anyhow, my dear, this wearer of ribbons, this woman among +women, not content with conquering Lydia, subduing Thrace, and +enthralling the people of Tmolus, has been on an expedition all the way +to India with his womanish host, captured elephants, taken possession +of the country, and led their king captive after a brief resistance. +And he never stopped dancing all the time, never relinquished the +thyrsus and the ivy; always drunk (as you say) and always inspired! If +any scoffer presumes to make light of his ceremonial, he does not go +unpunished; he is bound with vine-twigs; or his own mother mistakes him +for a fawn, and tears him limb from limb. Are not these manful doings, +worthy of a son of Zeus? No doubt he is fond of his comforts, too, and +his amusements; we need not complain of that: you may judge from his +drunken achievements, what a handful the fellow would be if he were +sober. + +_Hera_. I suppose you will tell me next, that the invention of wine is +very much to his credit; though you see for yourself how drunken men +stagger about and misbehave themselves; one would think the liquor had +made them mad. Look at Icarius, the first to whom he gave the vine: +beaten to death with mattocks by his own boon companions! + +_Zeus_. Pooh, nonsense. That is not Dionysus's fault, nor the wine's +fault; it comes of the immoderate use of it. Men _will_ drink their +wine neat, and drink too much of it. Taken in moderation, it engenders +cheerfulness and benevolence. Dionysus is not likely to treat any of +his guests as Icarius was treated.—No; I see what it is:—you are +jealous, my love; you can't forget about Semele, and so you must +disparage the noble achievements of her son. + +F. + +XIX + +_Aphrodite_. _Eros_ + +_Aph_. Eros, dear, you have had your victories over most of the +Gods—Zeus, Posidon, Rhea, Apollo, nay, your own mother; how is it you +make an exception for Athene? against her your torch has no fire, your +quiver no arrows, your right hand no cunning. + +_Eros_. I am afraid of her, mother; those awful flashing eyes! she is +like a man, only worse. When I go against her with my arrow on the +string, a toss of her plume frightens me; my hand shakes so that it +drops the bow. + +_Aph_. I should have thought Ares was more terrible still; but you +disarmed and conquered him. + +_Eros_. Ah, he is only too glad to have me; he calls me to him. Athene +always eyes me so! once when I flew close past her, quite by accident, +with my torch, 'If you come near me,' she called out, 'I swear by my +father, I will run you through with my spear, or take you by the foot +and drop you into Tartarus, or tear you in pieces with my own +hands'—and more such dreadful things. And she has such a sour look; and +then on her breast she wears that horrid face with the snaky hair; that +frightens me worst of all; the nasty bogy—I run away directly I see it. + +_Aph_. Well, well, you are afraid of Athene and the Gorgon; at least so +you say, though you do not mind Zeus's thunderbolt a bit. But why do +you let the Muses go scot free? do _they_ toss their plumes and hold +out Gorgons' heads? + +_Eros_. Ah, mother, they make me bashful; they are so grand, always +studying and composing; I love to stand there listening to their music. + +_Aph_. Let them pass too, because they are grand. And why do you never +take a shot at Artemis? + +_Eros_. Why, the great thing is that I cannot catch her; she is always +over the hills and far away. But besides that, her heart is engaged +already. + +_Aph_. Where, child? + +_Eros_. In hunting stags and fawns; she is so fleet, she catches them +up, or else shoots them; she can think of nothing else. Her brother, +now, though he is an archer too, and draws a good arrow— + +_Aph_. I know, child, you have hit _him_ often enough. + +H. + +XX. +THE JUDGEMENT OF PARIS + +_Zeus. Hermes. Hera. Athene. Aphrodite. Paris_ + +_Zeus_. Hermes, take this apple, and go with it to Phrygia; on the +Gargaran peak of Ida you will find Priam's son, the herdsman. Give him +this message: 'Paris, because you are handsome, and wise in the things +of love, Zeus commands you to judge between the Goddesses, and say +which is the most beautiful. And the prize shall be this apple.'—Now, +you three, there is no time to be lost: away with you to your judge. I +will have nothing to do with the matter: I love you all exactly alike, +and I only wish you could all three win. If I were to give the prize to +one of you, the other two would hate me, of course. In these +circumstances, I am ill qualified to be your judge. But this young +Phrygian to whom you are going is of the royal blood—a relation of +Ganymede's,—and at the same time a simple countryman; so that we need +have no hesitation in trusting his eyes. + +_Aph_. As far as I am concerned, Zeus, Momus himself might be our +judge; _I_ should not be afraid to show myself. What fault could he +find with _me_? But the others must agree too. + +_Hera_. Oh, we are under no alarm, thank you,—though your admirer Ares +should be appointed. But Paris will do; whoever Paris is. + +_Zeus_. And my little Athene; have we her approval? Nay, never blush, +nor hide your face. Well, well, maidens will be coy; 'tis a delicate +subject. But there, she nods consent. Now, off with you; and mind, the +beaten ones must not be cross with the judge; I will not have the poor +lad harmed. The prize of beauty can be but one. + +_Herm_. Now for Phrygia. I will show the way; keep close behind me, +ladies, and don't be nervous. I know Paris well: he is a charming young +man; a great gallant, and an admirable judge of beauty. Depend on it, +he will make a good award. + +_Aph_. I am glad to hear that; I ask for nothing better than a just +judge.—Has he a wife, Hermes, or is he a bachelor? + +_Herm_. Not exactly a bachelor. + +_Aph_. What do you mean? + +_Herm_. I believe there is a wife, as it were; a good enough sort of +girl—a native of those parts—but sadly countrified! I fancy he does not +care very much about her.—Why do you ask? + +_Aph_. I just wanted to know. + +_Ath_. Now, Hermes, that is not fair. No whispering with Aphrodite. + +_Herm_. It was nothing, Athene; nothing about you. She only asked me +whether Paris was a bachelor. + +_Ath_. What business is that of hers? + +_Herm_. None that I know of. She meant nothing by the question; she +just wanted to know. + +_Ath_. Well, and is he? + +_Herm_. Why, no. + +_Ath_. And does he care for military glory? has he ambition? Or is he a +_mere_ neatherd? + +_Herm_. I couldn't say for certain. But he is a young man, so it is to +be presumed that distinction on the field of battle is among his +desires. + +_Aph_. There, you see; _I_ don't complain; I say nothing when you +whisper with _her_. Aphrodite is not so particular as some people. + +_Herm_. Athene asked me almost exactly the same as you did; so don't be +cross. It will do you no harm, my answering a plain +question.—Meanwhile, we have left the stars far behind us, and are +almost over Phrygia. There is Ida: I can make out the peak of Gargarum +quite plainly; and if I am not mistaken, there is Paris himself. + +_Hera_. Where is he? I don't see him. + +_Herm_. Look over there to the left, Hera: not on the top, but down the +side, by that cave where you see the herd. + +_Hera_. But I _don't_ see the herd. + +_Herm_. What, don't you see them coming out from between the +rocks,—where I am pointing, look—and the man running down from the +crag, and keeping them together with his staff? + +_Hera_. I see him now; if he it is. + +_Herm_. Oh, that is Paris. But we are getting near; it is time to +alight and walk. He might be frightened, if we were to descend upon him +so suddenly. + +_Hera_. Yes; very well. And now that we are on the earth, you might go +on ahead, Aphrodite, and show us the way. You know the country, of +course, having been here so often to see Anchises; or so I have heard. + +_Aph_. Your sneers are thrown away on me, Hera. + +_Herm_. Come; I'll lead the way myself. I spent some time on Ida, while +Zeus was courting Ganymede. Many is the time that I have been sent here +to keep watch over the boy; and when at last the eagle came, I flew by +his side, and helped him with his lovely burden. This is the very rock, +if I remember; yes, Ganymede was piping to his sheep, when down swooped +the eagle behind him, and tenderly, oh, so tenderly, caught him up in +those talons, and with the turban in his beak bore him off, the +frightened boy straining his neck the while to see his captor. I picked +up his pipes—he had dropped them in his fright and—ah! here is our +umpire, close at hand. Let us accost him.—Good-morrow, herdsman! + +_Par_. Good-morrow, youngster. And who may you be, who come thus far +afield? And these dames? They are over comely, to be wandering on the +mountain-side. + +_Herm_. 'These dames,' good Paris, are Hera, Athene, and Aphrodite; and +I am Hermes, with a message from Zeus. Why so pale and tremulous? +Compose yourself; there is nothing the matter. Zeus appoints you the +judge of their beauty. 'Because you are handsome, and wise in the +things of love' (so runs the message), 'I leave the decision to you; +and for the prize,—read the inscription on the apple.' + +_Par_. Let me see what it is about. FOR THE FAIR, it says. But, my lord +Hermes, how shall a mortal and a rustic like myself be judge of such +unparalleled beauty? This is no sight for a herdsman's eyes; let the +fine city folk decide on such matters. As for me, I can tell you which +of two goats is the fairer beast; or I can judge betwixt heifer and +heifer;—'tis my trade. But here, where all are beautiful alike, I know +not how a man may leave looking at one, to look upon another. Where my +eyes fall, there they fasten,—for there is beauty: I move them, and +what do I find? more loveliness! I am fixed again, yet distracted by +neighbouring charms. I bathe in beauty: I am enthralled: ah, why am I +not _all_ eyes like Argus? Methinks it were a fair award, to give the +apple to all three. Then again: one is the wife and sister of Zeus; the +others are his daughters. Take it where you will, 'tis a hard matter to +judge. + +_Herm_. So it is, Paris. At the same time—Zeus's orders! There is no +way out of it. + +_Par_. Well, please point out to them, Hermes, that the losers must not +be angry with me; the fault will be in my eyes only. + +_Herm_. That is quite understood. And now to work. + +_Par_. I must do what I can; there is no help for it. But first let me +ask,—am I just to look at them as they are, or must I go into the +matter thoroughly? + +_Herm_. That is for you to decide, in virtue of your office. You have +only to give your orders; it is as you think best. + +_Par_. As I think best? Then I will be thorough. + +_Herm_. Get ready, ladies. Now, Mr. Umpire.—I will look the other way. + +_Hera_. I approve your decision, Paris. I will be the first to submit +myself to your inspection. You shall see that I have more to boast of +than white arms and large eyes: nought of me but is beautiful. + +_Par_. Aphrodite, will you also prepare? + +_Ath_. Oh, Paris,—make her take off that girdle, first; there is magic +in it; she will bewitch you. For that matter, she has no right to come +thus tricked out and painted,—just like a courtesan! She ought to show +herself unadorned. + +_Par_. They are right about the girdle, madam; it must go. + +_Aph_. Oh, very well, Athene: then take off that helmet, and show your +head bare, instead of trying to intimidate the judge with that waving +plume. I suppose you are afraid the colour of your eyes may be noticed, +without their formidable surroundings. + +_Ath_. Oh, here is my helmet. + +_Aph_. And here is my girdle. + +_Hera_. Now then. + +_Par_. God of wonders! What loveliness is here! Oh, rapture! How +exquisite these maiden charms! How dazzling the majesty of Heaven's +true queen! And oh, how sweet, how enthralling is Aphrodite's smile! +'Tis too much, too much of happiness.—But perhaps it would be well for +me to view each in detail; for as yet I doubt, and know not where to +look; my eyes are drawn all ways at once. + +_Aph_. Yes, that will be best. + +_Par_. Withdraw then, you and Athene; and let Hera remain. + +_Hera_. So be it; and when you have finished your scrutiny, you have +next to consider, how you would like the present which I offer you. +Paris, give me the prize of beauty, and you shall be lord of all Asia. + +_Par_. I will take no presents. Withdraw. I shall judge as I think +right. Approach, Athene. + +_Ath_. Behold. And, Paris, if you will say that I am the fairest, I +will make you a great warrior and conqueror, and you shall always win, +in every one of your battles. + +_Par_. But I have nothing to do with fighting, Athene. As you see, +there is peace throughout all Lydia and Phrygia, and my father's +dominion is uncontested. But never mind; I am not going to take your +present, but you shall have fair play. You can robe again and put on +your helmet; I have seen. And now for Aphrodite. + +_Aph_. Here I am; take your time, and examine carefully; let nothing +escape your vigilance. And I have something else to say to you, +handsome Paris. Yes, you handsome boy, I have long had an eye on you; I +think you must be the handsomest young fellow in all Phrygia. But it is +such a pity that you don't leave these rocks and crags, and live in a +town; you will lose all your beauty in this desert. What have you to do +with mountains? What satisfaction can your beauty give to a lot of +cows? You ought to have been married long ago; not to any of these +dowdy women hereabouts, but to some Greek girl; an Argive, perhaps, or +a Corinthian, or a Spartan; Helen, now, is a Spartan, and such a pretty +girl—quite as pretty as I am—and so susceptible! Why, if she once +caught sight of _you_, she would give up everything, I am sure, to go +with you, and a most devoted wife she would be. But you have heard of +Helen, of course? + +_Par_. No, ma'am; but I should like to hear all about her now. + +_Aph_. Well, she is the daughter of Leda, the beautiful woman, you +know, whom Zeus visited in the disguise of a swan. + +_Par_. And what is she like? + +_Aph_. She is fair, as might be expected from the swan, soft as down +(she was hatched from an egg, you know), and such a lithe, graceful +figure; and only think, she is so much admired, that there was a war +because Theseus ran away with her; and she was a mere child then. And +when she grew up, the very first men in Greece were suitors for her +hand, and she was given to Menelaus, who is descended from Pelops.—Now, +if you like, she shall be your wife. + +_Par_. What, when she is married already? + +_Aph_. Tut, child, you are a simpleton: _I_ understand these things. + +_Par_. I should like to understand them too. + +_Aph_. You will set out for Greece on a tour of inspection: and when +you get to Sparta, Helen will see you; and for the rest—her falling in +love, and going back with you—that will be my affair. + +_Par_. But that is what I cannot believe,—that she will forsake her +husband to cross the seas with a stranger, a barbarian. + +_Aph_. Trust me for that. I have two beautiful children, Love and +Desire. They shall be your guides. Love will assail her in all his +might, and compel her to love you: Desire will encompass you about, and +make you desirable and lovely as himself; and I will be there to help. +I can get the Graces to come too, and between us we shall prevail. + +_Par_. How this will end, I know not. All I do know is, that I am in +love with Helen already. I see her before me—I sail for Greece I am in +Sparta—I am on my homeward journey, with her at my side! Ah, why is +none of it true? + +_Aph_. Wait. Do not fall in love yet. You have first to secure my +interest with the bride, by your award. The union must be graced with +my victorious presence: your marriage-feast shall be my feast of +victory. Love, beauty, wedlock; all these you may purchase at the price +of yonder apple. + +_Par_. But perhaps after the award you will forget all about _me_? + +_Aph_. Shall I swear? + +_Par_. No; but promise once more. + +_Aph_. I promise that you shall have Helen to wife; that she shall +follow you, and make Troy her home; and I will be present with you, and +help you in all. + +_Par_. And bring Love, and Desire, and the Graces? + +_Aph._ Assuredly; and Passion and Hymen as well. + +_Par_. Take the apple: it is yours. + +F. + +XXI + +_Ares. Hermes_ + +_Ar_. Did you hear Zeus's threat, Hermes? most complimentary, wasn't +it, and most practicable? 'If I choose,' says he, 'I could let down a +cord from Heaven, and all of you might hang on to it and do your very +best to pull me down; it would be waste labour; you would never move +me. On the other hand, if I chose to haul up, I should have you all +dangling in mid air, with earth and sea into the bargain and so on; you +heard? Well, I dare say he _is_ too much for any of us individually, +but I will never believe he outweighs the whole of us in a body, or +that, even with the makeweight of earth and sea, we should not get the +better of him. + +_Her_. Mind what you say, Ares; it is not safe to talk like that; we +might get paid out for chattering. + +_Ar_. You don't suppose I should say this to every one; I am not afraid +of you; I know you can keep a quiet tongue. I _must_ tell you what made +me laugh most while he stormed: I remember not so long ago, when +Posidon and Hera and Athene rebelled and made a plot for his capture +and imprisonment, he was frightened out of his wits; well, there were +only three of them, and if Thetis had not taken pity on him and called +in the hundred-handed Briareus to the rescue, he would actually have +been put in chains, with his thunder and his bolt beside him. When I +worked out the sum, I could not help laughing. + +_Her_. Oh, do be quiet; such things are too risky for you to say or me +to listen to. + +H. + +XXIV + +_Hermes_. _Maia_ + +_Her_. Mother, I am the most miserable god in Heaven. + +_Ma_. Don't say such things, child. + +_Her_. Am I to do all the work of Heaven with my own hands, to be +hurried from one piece of drudgery to another, and never say a word? I +have to get up early, sweep the dining-room, lay the cushions and put +all to rights; then I have to wait on Zeus, and take his messages, up +and down, all day long; and I am no sooner back again (no time for a +wash) than I have to lay the table; and there was the nectar to pour +out, too, till this new cup-bearer was bought. And it really is too +bad, that when every one else is in bed, I should have to go off to +Pluto with the Shades, and play the usher in Rhadamanthus's court. It +is not enough that I must be busy all day in the wrestling-ground and +the Assembly and the schools of rhetoric, the dead must have their +share in me too. Leda's sons take turn and turn about betwixt Heaven +and Hades—_I_ have to be in both every day. And why should the sons of +Alemena and Semele, paltry women, why should they feast at their ease, +and I—the son of Maia, the grandson of Atlas—wait upon them? And now +here am I only just back from Sidon, where he sent me to see after +Europa, and before I am in breath again—off I must go to Argos, in +quest of Danae, 'and you can take Boeotia on your way,' says father, +'and see Antiope.' I am half dead with it all. Mortal slaves are better +off than I am: they have the chance of being sold to a new master; I +wish I had the same! + +_Ma_. Come, come, child. You must do as your father bids you, like a +good boy. Run along now to Argos and Boeotia; don't loiter, or you will +get a whipping. Lovers are apt to be hasty. + +F. + +XXV + +_Zeus. Helius_ + +_Zeus_. What have you been about, you villainous Titan? You have +utterly done for the earth, trusting your car to a silly boy like that; +he has got too near and scorched it in one place, and in another killed +everything with frost by withdrawing the heat too far; there is not a +single thing he has not turned upside down; if I had not seen what was +happening and upset him with the thunderbolt, there would not have been +a remnant of mankind left. A pretty deputy driver! + +_Hel_. I was wrong, Zeus; but do not be angry with me; my boy pressed +me so; how could I tell it would turn out so badly? + +_Zeus_. Oh, of course you didn't know what a delicate business it is, +and how the slightest divergence ruins everything! it never occurred to +you that the horses are spirited, and want a tight hand! oh no! why, +give them their heads a moment, and they are out of control; just what +happened: they carried him now left, now right, now clean round +backwards, and up or down, just at their own sweet will; he was utterly +helpless. + +_Hel_. I knew it all; I held out for a long time and told him he +mustn't drive. But he wept and entreated, and his mother Clymene joined +in, and at last I put him up. I showed him how to stand, and how far he +was to mount upwards, and where to begin descending, and how to hold +the reins, and keep the spirited beasts under control; and I told him +how dangerous it was, if he did not keep the track. But, poor boy, when +he found himself in charge of all that fire, and looking down into +yawning space, he was frightened, and no wonder; and the horses soon +knew I was not behind them, took the child's measure, left the track, +and wrought all this havoc; he let go the reins—I suppose he was afraid +of being thrown out—and held on to the rail. But he has suffered for +it, and my grief is punishment enough for me, Zeus. + +_Zeus_. Punishment enough, indeed! after daring to do such a thing as +that!—Well, I forgive you this time. But if ever you transgress again, +or send another substitute like him, I will show you how much hotter +the thunderbolt is than your fire. Let his sisters bury him by the +Eridanus, where he was upset. They shall weep amber tears and be +changed by their grief into poplars. As for you, repair the car—the +pole is broken, and one of the wheels crushed—, put the horses to and +drive yourself. And let this be a lesson to you. + +H. + +XXVI + +_Apollo. Hermes_ + +_Ap_. Hermes, have you any idea which of those two is Castor, and which +is Pollux? I never can make out. + +_Her_. It was Castor yesterday, and Pollux to-day. + +_Ap_. How do you tell? They are exactly alike. + +_Her_. Why, Pollux's face is scarred with the wounds he got in boxing; +those that Amycus, the Bebrycian, gave him, when he was on that +expedition with Jason, are particularly noticeable. Castor has no +marks; his face is all right. + +_Ap_. Good; I am glad I know that. Everything else is the same for +both. Each has his half egg-shell, with the star on top, each his +javelin and his white horse. I am always calling Pollux Castor, and +Castor Pollux. And, by the way, why are they never both here together? +Why should they be alternately gods and shades? + +_Her_. That is their brotherly way. You see, it was decreed that one of +the sons of Leda must die, and the other be immortal; and by this +arrangement they split the immortality between them. + +_Ap_. Rather a stupid way of doing it: if one of them is to be in +Heaven, whilst the other is underground, they will never see one +another at all; and I suppose that is just what they wanted to do. Then +again: all the other gods practise some useful profession, either here +or on earth; for instance, I am a prophet, Asclepius is a doctor, you +are a first-rate gymnast and trainer, Artemis ushers children into the +world; now what are these two going to do? surely two such great +fellows are not to have a lazy time of it? + +_Her_. Oh no. Their business is to wait upon Posidon, and ride the +waves; and if they see a ship in distress, they go aboard of her, and +save the crew. + +_Ap_. A most humane profession. + +F. + + + +DIALOGUES OF THE SEA-GODS + +I + +_Doris. Galatea_. + +_Dor_. A handsome lover, Galatea, this Sicilian shepherd who they say +is so mad for you! + +_Gal_. Don't be sarcastic, Doris; he is Posidon's son, after all. + +_Dor_. Well, and if he were Zeus's, and still such a wild shaggy +creature, with only one eye (there is nothing uglier than to have only +one eye), do you think his birth would improve his beauty? + +_Gal_. Shagginess and wildness, as you call them, are not ugly in a +man; and his eye looks very well in the middle of his forehead, and +sees just as well as if it were two. + +_Dor_. Why, my dear, from your raptures about him one would think it +was you that were in love, not he. + +_Gal_. Oh no, I am not in love; but it is too bad, your all running him +down as you do. It is my belief you are jealous, Do you remember? we +were playing on the shore at the foot of Etna, where the long strip of +beach comes between the mountain and the sea; he was feeding his sheep, +and spied us from above; yes, but he never so much as glanced at the +rest of you; I was the pretty one; he was all eyes—eye, I mean—for me. +That is what makes you spiteful, because it showed I was better than +you, good enough to be loved, while you were taken no notice of. + +_Dor_. Hoity-toity! jealous indeed! because a one-eyed shepherd thinks +you pretty! Why, what could he see in you but your white skin? and he +only cared for that because it reminded him of cheese and milk; he +thinks everything pretty that is like them. If you want to know any +more than that about your looks, sit on a rock when it is calm, and +lean over the water; just a bit of white skin, that is all; and who +cares for that, if it is not picked out with some red? + +_Gal_. Well, if I _am_ all white, I have got a lover of some sort; +there is not a shepherd or a sailor or a boatman to care for any of +you. Besides, Polyphemus is very musical. + +_Dor_. Take care, dear; we heard him singing the other day when he +serenaded you. Heavens! one would have taken him for an ass braying. +And his lyre! what a thing! A stag's skull, with its horns for the +uprights; he put a bar across, and fastened on the strings without any +tuning-pegs! then came the performance, all harsh and out of tune; he +shouted something himself, and the lyre played something else, and the +love ditty sent us into fits of laughter. Why, Echo, chatterbox that +she is, would not answer him; she was ashamed to be caught mimicking +such a rough ridiculous song. Oh, and the pet that your beau brought +you in his arms!—a bear cub nearly as shaggy as himself. Now then, +Galatea, do you still think we envy you your lover? + +_Gal_. Well, Doris, only show us your own; no doubt he is much +handsomer, and sings and plays far better. + +_Dor_. Oh, I have not got one; _I_ do not set up to be lovely. But one +like the Cyclops—faugh, he might be one of his own goats!—he eats raw +meat, they say, and feeds on travellers—one like him, dear, you may +keep; I wish you nothing worse than to return his love. + +H. + +II + +_Cyclops. Posidon_ + +_Cy_. Only look, father, what that cursed stranger has been doing to +me! He made me drunk, and set upon me whilst I was asleep, and blinded +me. + +_Po_. Who has dared to do this? + +_Cy_. He called himself 'Noman' at first: but when he had got safely +out of range, he said his name was Odysseus. + +_Po_. I know—the Ithacan; on his way back from Troy. But how did he +come to do such a thing? He is not distinguished for courage. + +_Cy_. When I got back from the pasture, I caught a lot of the fellows +in my cave. Evidently they had designs upon the sheep: because when I +had blocked up my doorway (I have a great big stone for that), and +kindled a fire, with a tree that I had brought home from the +mountain,—there they were trying to hide themselves. I saw they were +robbers, so I caught a few of them, and ate them of course, and then +that scoundrel of a Noman, or Odysseus, whichever it is, gave me +something to drink, with a drug in it; it tasted and smelt very good, +but it was villanously heady stuff; it made everything spin round; even +the cave seemed to be turning upside down, and I simply didn't know +where I was; and finally I fell off to sleep. And then he sharpened +that stake, and made it hot in the fire, and blinded me in my sleep; +and blind I have been ever since, father. + +_Po_. You must have slept pretty soundly, my boy, or you would have +jumped up in the middle of it. Well, and how did Odysseus get off? He +couldn't move that stone away, _I_ know. + +_Cy_. I took that away myself, so as to catch him as he went out. I sat +down in the doorway, and felt about for him with my hands. I just let +the sheep go out to pasture, and told the ram everything I wanted done. + +_Po_. Ah! and they slipped out under the sheep? But you should have set +the other Cyclopes on to him. + +_Cy_. I did call them, and they came: but when they asked me who it was +that was playing tricks with me, I said 'Noman'; and then they thought +I was mad, and went off home again. The villain! that name of his was +just a trick! And what I minded most was the way in which he made game +of my misfortune: 'Not even Papa can put this right,' he said. + +_Po_. Never mind, my boy; I will be even with him. I may not be able to +cure blindness, but he shall know that I have something to say to +mariners. He is not home yet. + +F. + +III + +_Posidon. Alpheus_ + +_Pos_. What is the meaning of this, Alpheus? unlike others, when you +take your plunge you do not mingle with the brine as a river should; +you do not put an end to your labours by dispersing; you hold together +through the sea, keep your current fresh, and hurry along in all your +original purity; you dive down to strange depths like a gull or a +heron; I suppose you will come to the top again and show yourself +somewhere or other. + +_Al_. Do not press me, Posidon; a love affair; and many is the time you +have been in love yourself. + +_Pos_. Woman, nymph, or Nereid? + +_Al_. All wrong; she is a fountain. + +_Pos_. A fountain? and where does she flow? + +_Al_. She is an islander—in Sicily. Her name is Arethusa. + +_Pos_. Ah, I commend your taste. She is pellucid, and bubbles up in +perfect purity; the water as bright over her pebbles as if it were a +mass of silver. + +_Al_. You know my fountain, Posidon, and no mistake. It is to her that +I go. + +_Pos_. Go, then; and may the course of love run smooth! But pray where +did you meet her? Arcadia and Syracuse, you know! + +_Al_. I am in a hurry; you are detaining me, with these superfluous +questions. + +_Pos_. Ah, so I am. Be off to your beloved, rise from the sea, mingle +your channels and be one water. + +H. + +IV + +_Menelaus. Proteus_ + +_Me_. I can understand your turning into _water_, you know, Proteus, +because you _are_ a sea-god. I can even pass the tree; and the lion is +not wholly beyond the bounds of belief. But the idea of your being able +to turn into _fire_, living under water as you do,—this excites my +surprise, not to say my incredulity. + +_Pro_. Don't let it; because I can. + +_Me_. I have seen you do it. But (to be frank with you) I think there +must be some deception; you play tricks with one's eyes; you don't +really turn into anything of the kind? + +_Pro_. Deception? What deception can there possibly be? Everything is +above-board. Your eyes were open, I suppose, and you saw me change into +all these things? If that is not enough for you, if you think it is a +fraud, an optical illusion, I will turn into fire again, and you can +touch me with your hand, my sagacious friend. You will then be able to +conclude whether I am only visible fire, or have the additional +property of burning. + +_Me_. That would be rash. + +_Pro_. I suppose you have never seen such a thing as a polypus, nor +observed the proceedings of that fish? + +_Me_. I have seen them; as to their proceedings, I shall be glad of +your information. + +_Pro_. The polypus, having selected his rock, and attached himself by +means of his suckers, assimilates himself to it, changing his colour to +match that of the rock. By this means he hopes to escape the +observation of fishermen: there is no contrast of colour to betray his +presence; he looks just like stone. + +_Me_. So I have heard. But yours is quite another matter, Proteus. + +_Pro_. I don't know what evidence would satisfy you, if you reject that +of your own eyes. + +_Me_. I have seen it done, but it is an extraordinary business; fire +and water, one and the same person! + +F. + +V + +_Panope. Galene_ + +_Pa_. Galene, did you see what Eris did yesterday at the Thessalian +banquet, because she had not had an invitation? + +_Ga_, No, I was not with you; Posidon had told me to keep the sea quiet +for the occasion. What did Eris do, then, if she was not there? + +_Pa_. Thetis and Peleus had just gone off to the bridal chamber, +conducted by Amphitrite and Posidon, when Eris came in unnoticed—which +was easy enough; some were drinking, some dancing, or attending to +Apollo's lyre or the Muses' songs—Well, she threw down a lovely apple, +solid gold, my dear; and there was written on it, FOR THE FAIR. It +rolled along as if it knew what it was about, till it came in front of +Hera, Aphrodite, and Athene. Hermes picked it up and read out the +inscription; of course we Nereids kept quiet; what should _we_ do in +such company? But they all made for it, each insisting that it was +hers; and if Zeus had not parted them, there would have been a battle. +He would not decide the matter himself, though they asked him to. 'Go, +all of you, to Ida,' he said, 'to the son of Priam; he is a man of +taste, quite capable of picking out the beauty; he will be no bad +judge.' + +_Ga_. Yes. and the Goddesses, Panope? + +_Pa_. They are going to Ida to-day, I believe; we shall soon have news +of the result. + +_Ga_. Oh, I can tell you that now; if the umpire is not a blind man, no +one else can win, with Aphrodite in for it. + +_Triton. Posidon. Amymone_ + +_Tri_. Posidon, there is such a pretty girl coming to Lerna for water +every day; I don't know that I ever saw a prettier. + +_Pos_. What is she, a lady? or a mere water-carrier? + +_Tri_. Oh no; she is one of the fifty daughters of that Egyptian king. +Her name is Amymone; I asked about that and her family. Danaus +understands discipline; he is bringing them up to do everything for +themselves; they have to fetch water, and make themselves generally +useful. + +_Pos_. And does she come all that way by herself, from Argos to Lerna? + +_Tri_. Yes; and Argos, you know, is a thirsty place; she is always +having to get water. + +_Pos_. Triton, this is most exciting. We must go and see her. + +_Tri_. Very well. It is just her time now; I reckon she will be about +half-way to Lerna. + +_Pos_. Bring out the chariot, then. Or no; it takes such a time getting +it ready, and putting the horses to. Just fetch me out a good fast +dolphin; that will be quickest. + +_Tri_. Here is a racer for you. + +_Pos_. Good; now let us be off. You swim alongside.—Here we are at +Lerna. I'll lie in ambush hereabouts; and you keep a look-out. When you +see her coming— + +_Tri_. Here she comes. + +_Pos_. A charming child; the dawn of loveliness. We must carry her off. + +_Am_. Villain! where are you taking me to? You are a kidnapper. I know +who sent you—my uncle Aegyptus. I shall call my father. + +_Tri_. Hush, Amymone; it is Posidon. + +_Am_. Posidon? What do you mean? Unhand me, villain! would you drag me +into the sea? Help, help, I shall sink and be drowned. + +_Pos_. Don't be frightened; no harm shall be done to you. Come, you +shall have a fountain called after you; it shall spring up in this very +place, near the waves; I will strike the rock with my trident.—Think +how nice it will be being dead, and not having to carry water any more, +like all your sisters. + +F. + +VII + +_South Wind. West Wind_ + +_S_. Zephyr, is it true about Zeus and the heifer that Hermes is +convoying across the sea to Egypt?—that he fell in love with it? + +_W_. Certainly. She was not a heifer then, though, but a daughter of +the river Inachus. Hera made her what she is now; Zeus was so deep in +love that Hera was jealous. + +_S_. And is he still in love, now that she is a cow? + +_W_. Oh, yes; that is why he has sent her to Egypt, and told us not to +stir up the sea till she has swum across; she is to be delivered there +of her child, and both of them are to be Gods. + +_S_. The heifer a God? + +_W_. Yes, I tell you. And Hermes said she was to be the patroness of +sailors and our mistress, and send out or confine any of us that she +chooses. + +_S_. So we must regard ourselves as her servants at once? + +_W_. Why, yes; she will be the kinder if we do. Ah, she has got across +and landed. Do you see? she does not go on four legs now; Hermes has +made her stand erect, and turned her back into a beautiful woman. + +_S_. This is most remarkable, Zephyr; no horns, no tail, no cloven +hoofs; instead, a lovely maid. But what is the matter with Hermes? he +has changed his handsome face into a dog's. + +_W_. We had better not meddle; he knows his own business best. + +H. + +VIII + +_Posidon. Dolphins_ + +_Pos_. Well done, Dolphins!—humane as ever. Not content with your +former exploit, when Ino leapt with Melicertes from the Scironian +cliff, and you picked the boy up and conveyed him to the Isthmus, one +of you swims from Methymna to Taenarum with this musician on his back, +mantle and lyre and all. Those sailors had almost had their wicked will +of him; but you were not going to stand that. + +_Dol_. You need not be surprised to find us doing a good turn to a man, +Posidon; we were men before we were fishes. + +_Pos_. Yes; I think it was too bad of Dionysus to celebrate his victory +by such a transformation scene; he might have been content with adding +you to the roll of his subjects.—Well, Dolphin, tell me all about +Arion. + +_Dol_. From what I can gather, Periander was very fond of him, and was +always sending for him to perform; till Arion grew quite rich at his +expense, and thought he would take a trip to Methymna, and show off his +wealth at home. He took ship accordingly; but it was with a crew of +rogues. He had made no secret of the gold and silver he had with him; +and when they were in mid Aegean, the sailors rose against him. As I +was swimming alongside, I heard all that went on. 'Since your minds are +made up,' says Arion, 'at least let me get my mantle on, and sing my +own dirge; and then I will throw myself into the sea of my own +accord.'—The sailors agreed. He threw his minstrel's cloak about him, +and sang a most sweet melody; and then he let himself drop into the +water, never doubting but that his last moment had come. But I caught +him up on my back, and swam to shore with him at Taenarum. + +_Pos_. I am glad to find you a patron of the arts. This was handsome +pay for a song. + +F. + +IX + +_Posidon. Amphitrite and other Nereids_ + +_Pos_. The strait where the child fell shall be called Hellespont after +her. And as for her body, you Nereids shall take it to the Troad to be +buried by the inhabitants. + +_Amph_. Oh no, Posidon. Let her grave be the sea which bears her name. +We are so sorry for her; that step-mother's treatment of her was +shocking. + +_Pos_. No, my dear, that may not be. And indeed it is not desirable +that she should lie here under the sand; her grave shall be in the +Troad, as I said, or in the Chersonese. It will be no small consolation +to her that Ino will have the same fate before long. She will be chased +by Athamas from the top of Cithaeron down the ridge which runs into the +sea, and there plunge in with her son in her arms. But her we must +rescue, to please Dionysus; Ino was his nurse and suckled him, you +know. + +_Amph_. Rescue a wicked creature like her? + +_Pos_. Well, we do not want to disoblige Dionysus. + +_Nereid_. I wonder what made the poor child fall off the ram; her +brother Phrixus held on all right. + +_Pos_. Of course he did; a lusty youth equal to the flight; but it was +all too strange for her; sitting on that queer mount, looking down on +yawning space, terrified, overpowered by the heat, giddy with the +speed, she lost her hold on the ram's horns, and down she came into the +sea. + +_Nereid_. Surely her mother Nephele should have broken her fall. + +_Pos_. I dare say; but Fate is a great deal too strong for Nephele. + +H. + +X + +_Iris. Posidon_ + +_Ir_. Posidon: you know that floating island, that was torn away from +Sicily, and is still drifting about under water; you are to bring it to +the surface, Zeus says, and fix it well in view in the middle of the +Aegean; and mind it is properly secured; he has a use for it. + +_Pos_. Very good. And when I have got it up, and anchored it, what is +he going to do with it? + +_Ir_. Leto is to lie in there; her time is near. + +_Pos_. And is there no room in Heaven? Or is Earth too small to hold +her children? + +_Ir_. Ah, you see, Hera has bound the Earth by a great oath not to give +shelter to Leto in her travail. This island, however, being out of +sight, has not committed itself. + +_Pos_. I see.—Island, be still! Rise once more from the depths; and +this time there must be no sinking. Henceforth you are _terra firma_; +it will be your happiness to receive my brother's twin children, +fairest of the Gods.—Tritons, you will have to convey Leto across. Let +all be calm.—As to that serpent who is frightening her out of her +senses, wait till these children are born; they will soon avenge their +mother.—You can tell Zeus that all is ready. Delos stands firm: Leto +has only to come. + +F. + +XI + +_The Xanthus. The Sea_ + +_Xan_. O Sea, take me to you; see how horribly I have been treated; +cool my wounds for me. + +_Sea_. What is this, Xanthus? who has burned you? + +_Xan_. Hephaestus. Oh, I am burned to cinders! oh, oh, oh, I boil! + +_Sea_. What made him use his fire upon you? + +_Xan_. Why, it was all that son of your Thetis. He was slaughtering the +Phrygians; I tried entreaties, but he went raging on, damming my stream +with their bodies; I was so sorry for the poor wretches, I poured down +to see if I could make a flood and frighten him off them. But +Hephaestus happened to be about, and he must have collected every +particle of fire he had in Etna or anywhere else; on he came at me, +scorched my elms and tamarisks, baked the poor fishes and eels, made me +boil over, and very nearly dried me up altogether. You see what a state +I am in with the burns. + +_Sea_. Indeed you are thick and hot, Xanthus, and no wonder; the dead +men's blood accounts for one, and the fire for the other, according to +your story. Well, and serve you right; assaulting my grandson, indeed! +paying no more respect to the son of a Nereid than that! + +_Xan_. Was I not to take compassion on the Phrygians? they are my +neighbours. + +_Sea_. And was Hephaestus not to take compassion on Achilles? He is the +son of Thetis. + +H. + +XII + +_Doris. Thetis_ + +_Dor_. Crying, dear? + +_The_. Oh, Doris, I have just seen a lovely girl thrown into a chest by +her father, and her little baby with her; and he gave the chest to some +sailors, and told them, as soon as they were far enough from the shore, +to drop it into the water; he meant them to be drowned, poor things. + +_Dor_. Oh, sister, but why? What was it all about? Did you hear? + +_The_. Her father, Acrisius, wanted to keep her from marrying. And, as +she was so pretty, he shut her up in an iron room. And—I don't know +whether it's true—but they say that Zeus turned himself into gold, and +came showering down through the roof, and she caught the gold in her +lap,—and it was Zeus all the time. And then her father found out about +it—he is a horrid, jealous old man—and he was furious, and thought she +had been receiving a lover; and he put her into the chest, the moment +the child was born. + +_Dor_. And what did she do then? + +_The_. She never said a word against her own sentence; _she_ was ready +to submit: but she pleaded hard for the child's life, and cried, and +held him up for his grandfather to see; and there was the sweet babe, +that thought no harm, smiling at the waves. I am beginning again, at +the mere remembrance of it. + +_Dor_. You make me cry, too. And is it all over? + +_The_. No; the chest has carried them safely so far; it is by Seriphus. + +_Dor_. Then why should we not save them? We can put the chest into +those fishermen's nets, look; and then of course they will be hauled +in, and come safe to shore. + +_The_. The very thing. She shall not die; nor the child, sweet +treasure! + +F. + +XIV + +_Triton. Iphianassa. Doris. Nereids_ + +_Tri_. Well, ladies: so the monster you sent against the daughter of +Cepheus has got killed himself, and never done Andromeda any harm at +all! + +_Nereid_. Who did it? I suppose Cepheus was just using his daughter as +a bait, and had a whole army waiting in ambush to kill him? + +_Tri_. No, no.—Iphianassa, you remember Perseus, Danae's boy?—they were +both thrown into the sea by the boy's grandfather, in that chest, you +know, and you took pity on them. + +_Iph_. I know; why, I suppose he is a fine handsome young fellow by +now? + +_Tri_. It was he who killed your monster. + +_Iph_. But why? This was not the way to show his gratitude. + +_Tri_. I'll tell you all about it. The king had sent him on this +expedition against the Gorgons, and when he got to Libya— + +_Iph_. How did he get there? all by himself? he must have had some one +to help him?—it is a dangerous journey otherwise. + +_Tri_. He flew,—Athene gave him wings.—Well, so when he got to where +the Gorgons were living, he caught them napping, I suppose, cut off +Medusa's head, and flew away. + +_Iph_. How could he see them? The Gorgons are a forbidden sight. +Whoever looks at them will never look at any one else again. + +_Tri_. Athene held up her shield—I heard him telling Andromeda and +Cepheus about it afterwards—Athene showed him the reflection of the +Gorgon in her shield, which is as bright as any mirror; so he took hold +of her hair in his left hand, grasped his scimetar with the right, +still looking at the reflection, cut off her head, and was off before +her sisters woke up. Lowering his flight as he reached the Ethiopian +coast yonder, he caught sight of Andromeda, fettered to a jutting rock, +her hair hanging loose about her shoulders; ye Gods, what loveliness +was there exposed to view! And first pity of her hard fate prompted him +to ask the cause of her doom: but Fate had decreed the maiden's +deliverance, and presently Love stole upon him, and he resolved to save +her. The hideous monster now drew near, and would have swallowed her: +but the youth, hovering above, smote him with the drawn scimetar in his +right hand, and with his left uncovered the petrifying Gorgon's head: +in one moment the monster was lifeless; all of him that had met that +gaze was turned to stone. Then Perseus released the maiden from her +fetters, and supported her, as with timid steps she descended from the +slippery rock.—And now he is to marry her in Cepheus's palace, and take +her home to Argos; so that where she looked for death, she has found an +uncommonly good match. + +_Iph_. I am not sorry to hear it. It is no fault of hers, if her mother +has the vanity to set up for our rival. + +_Dor_. Still, she _is_ Andromeda's mother; and we should have had our +revenge on her through the daughter. + +_Iph_. My dear, let bygones be bygones. What matter if a barbarian +queen's tongue runs away with her? She is sufficiently punished by the +fright. So let us take this marriage in good part. + +F. + +XV + +_West Wind. South Wind_ + +_W_. Such a splendid pageant I never saw on the waves, since the day I +first blew. You were not there, Notus? + +_S_. Pageant, Zephyr? what pageant? and whose? + +_W_. You missed a most ravishing spectacle; such another chance you are +not likely to have. + +_S_. I was busy with the Red Sea; and I gave the Indian coasts a little +airing too. So I don't know what you are talking about. + +_W_. Well, you know Agenor the Sidonian? + +_S_. Europa's father? what of him? + +_W_. Europa it is that I am going to tell you about. + +_S_. You need not tell me that Zeus has been in love with her this long +while; that is stale news. + +_W_. We can pass the love, then, and get on to the sequel. + +Europa had come down for a frolic on the beach with her playfellows. +Zeus transformed himself into a bull, and joined the game. A fine sight +he was—spotless white skin, crumpled horns, and gentle eyes. He +gambolled on the shore with them, bellowing most musically, till Europa +took heart of grace and mounted him. No sooner had she done it than, +with her on his back, Zeus made off at a run for the sea, plunged in, +and began swimming; she was dreadfully frightened, but kept her seat by +clinging to one of his horns with her left hand, while the right held +her skirt down against the puffs of wind. + +_S_. A lovely sight indeed, Zephyr, in every sense—Zeus swimming with +his darling on his back. + +_W_. Ay, but what followed was lovelier far. + +Every wave fell; the sea donned her robe of peace to speed them on +their way; we winds made holiday and joined the train, all eyes; +fluttering Loves skimmed the waves, just dipping now and again a +heedless toe—in their hands lighted torches, on their lips the nuptial +song; up floated Nereids—few but were prodigal of naked charms—and +clapped their hands, and kept pace on dolphin steeds; the Triton +company, with every sea-creature that frights not the eye, tripped it +around the maid; for Posidon on his car, with Amphitrite by him, led +them in festal mood, ushering his brother through the waves. But, +crowning all, a Triton pair bore Aphrodite, reclined on a shell, +heaping the bride with all flowers that blow. + +So went it from Phoenice even to Crete. But, when he set foot on the +isle, behold, the bull was no more; 'twas Zeus that took Europa's hand +and led her to the Dictaean Cave—blushing and downward-eyed; for she +knew now the end of her bringing. + +But we plunged this way and that, and roused the still seas anew. + +_S_. Ah me, what sights of bliss! and I was looking at griffins, and +elephants, and blackamoors! + +H. + + + +DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD + +I + +_Diogenes. Pollux_ + +_Diog_. Pollux, I have a commission for you; next time you go up—and I +think it is your turn for earth to-morrow—if you come across Menippus +the Cynic—you will find him about the Craneum at Corinth, or in the +Lyceum, laughing at the philosophers' disputes—well, give him this +message:—Menippus, Diogenes advises you, if mortal subjects for +laughter begin to pall, to come down below, and find much richer +material; where you are now, there is always a dash of uncertainty in +it; the question will always intrude—who can be quite sure about the +hereafter? Here, you can have your laugh out in security, like me; it +is the best of sport to see millionaires, governors, despots, now mean +and insignificant; you can only tell them by their lamentations, and +the spiritless despondency which is the legacy of better days. Tell him +this, and mention that he had better stuff his wallet with plenty of +lupines, and any un-considered trifles he can snap up in the way of +pauper doles [Footnote: In the Greek, 'a Hecate's repast lying at a +street corner.' 'Rich men used to make offerings to Hecate on the 30th +of every month as Goddess of roads at street corners; and these +offerings were at once pounced upon by the poor, or, as here, the +Cynics.' _Jacobitz_.] or lustral eggs. [Footnote: 'Eggs were often used +as purificatory offerings and set out in front of the house purified.' +_Id_.] + +_Pol_. I will tell him, Diogenes. But give me some idea of his +appearance. + +_Diog_. Old, bald, with a cloak that allows him plenty of light and +ventilation, and is patched all colours of the rainbow; always +laughing, and usually gibing at pretentious philosophers. + +_Pol_. Ah, I cannot mistake him now. + +_Diog_. May I give you another message to those same philosophers? + +_Pol_. Oh, I don't mind; go on. + +_Diog_. Charge them generally to give up playing the fool, quarrelling +over metaphysics, tricking each other with horn and crocodile puzzles +[Footnote: See _Puzzles_ in Notes.] and teaching people to waste wit on +such absurdities. + +_Pol_. Oh, but if I say anything against their wisdom, they will call +me an ignorant blockhead. + +_Diog_. Then tell them from me to go to the devil. + +_Pol_. Very well; rely upon me. + +_Diog_. And then, my most obliging of Polluxes, there is this for the +rich:—O vain fools, why hoard gold? why all these pains over interest +sums and the adding of hundred to hundred, when you must shortly come +to us with nothing beyond the dead-penny? + +_Pol_. They shall have their message too. + +_Diog_. Ah, and a word to the handsome and strong; Megillus of Corinth, +and Damoxenus the wrestler will do. Inform them that auburn locks, eyes +bright or black, rosy cheeks, are as little in fashion here as tense +muscles or mighty shoulders; man and man are as like as two peas, tell +them, when it comes to bare skull and no beauty. + +_Pol_. That is to the handsome and strong; yes, I can manage that. + +_Diog_. Yes, my Spartan, and here is for the poor. There are a great +many of them, very sorry for themselves and resentful of their +helplessness. Tell them to dry their tears and cease their cries; +explain to them that here one man is as good as another, and they will +find those who were rich on earth no better than themselves. As for +your Spartans, you will not mind scolding them, from me, upon their +present degeneracy? + +_Pol_. No, no, Diogenes; leave Sparta alone; that is going too far; +your other commissions I will execute. + +_Diog_. Oh, well, let them off, if you care about it; but tell all the +others what I said. + +H. + +II + +_Before Pluto: Croesus, Midas, and Sardanapalus v. Menippus_ + +_Cr_. Pluto, we can stand this snarling Cynic no longer in our +neighbourhood; either you must transfer him to other quarters, or we +are going to migrate. + +_Pl_. Why, what harm does he do to your ghostly community? + +_Cr_. Midas here, and Sardanapalus and I, can never get in a good cry +over the old days of gold and luxury and treasure, but he must be +laughing at us, and calling us rude names; 'slaves' and 'garbage,' he +says we are. And then he sings; and that throws us out.—In short, he is +a nuisance. + +_Pl_. Menippus, what's this I hear? + +_Me_. All perfectly true, Pluto. I detest these abject rascals! Not +content with having lived the abominable lives they did, they keep on +talking about it now they are dead, and harping on the good old days. I +take a positive pleasure in annoying them. + +_Pl_. Yes, but you mustn't. They have had terrible losses; they feel it +deeply. + +_Me_. Pluto! you are not going to lend _your_ countenance to these +whimpering fools? + +_Pl_. It isn't that: but I won't have you quarrelling. + +_Me_. Well, you scum of your respective nations, let there be no +misunderstanding; I am going on just the same. Wherever you are, there +shall I be also; worrying, jeering, singing you down. + +_Cr_. Presumption! + +_Me_. Not a bit of it. Yours was the presumption, when you expected men +to fall down before you, when you trampled on men's liberty, and forgot +there was such a thing as death. Now comes the weeping and gnashing of +teeth: for all is lost! + +_Cr_. Lost! Ah God! My treasure-heaps— + +_Mid_. My gold— + +_Sar_. My little comforts— + +_Me_. That's right: stick to it! You do the whining, and I'll chime in +with a string of GNOTHI-SAUTONS, best of accompaniments. + +F. + +III + +_Menippus. Amphilochus. Trophonius_ + +_Me_. Now I wonder how it is that you two dead men have been honoured +with temples and taken for prophets; those silly mortals imagine you +are Gods. + +_Amp_. How can we help it, if they are fools enough to have such +fancies about the dead? + +_Me_. Ah, they would never have had them, though, if you had not been +charlatans in your lifetime, and pretended to know the future and be +able to foretell it to your clients. + +_Tro_. Well, Menippus, Amphilochus can take his own line, if he likes; +as for me, I _am_ a Hero, and _do_ give oracles to any one who comes +down to me. It is pretty clear you were never at Lebadea, or you would +not be so incredulous. + +_Me_. What do you mean? I must go to Lebadea, swaddle myself up in +absurd linen, take a cake in my hand, and crawl through a narrow +passage into a cave, before I could tell that you are a dead man, with +nothing but knavery to differentiate you from the rest of us? Now, on +your seer-ship, what _is_ a Hero? I am sure _I_ don't know. + +_Tro_. He is half God, and half man. + +_Me_. So what is neither man (as you imply) nor God, is both at once? +Well, at present what has become of your diviner half? + +_Tro_. He gives oracles in Boeotia. + +_Me_. What you may mean is quite beyond me; the one thing I know for +certain is that you are dead—the whole of you. + +H. + +IV + +_Hermes. Charon_ + +_Her_. Ferryman, what do you say to settling up accounts? It will +prevent any unpleasantness later on. + +_Ch_. Very good. It does save trouble to get these things straight. + +_Her_. One anchor, to your order, five shillings. + +_Ch_. That is a lot of money. + +_Her_. So help me Pluto, it is what I had to pay. One rowlock-strap, +fourpence. + +_Ch_. Five and four; put that down. + +_Her_. Then there was a needle, for mending the sail; ten-pence. + +_Ch_. Down with it. + +_Her_. Caulking-wax; nails; and cord for the brace. Two shillings the +lot. + +_Ch_. They were worth the money. + +_Her_. That's all; unless I have forgotten anything. When will you pay +it? + +_Ch_. I can't just now, Hermes; we shall have a war or a plague +presently, and then the passengers will come shoaling in, and I shall +be able to make a little by jobbing the fares. + +_Her_. So for the present I have nothing to do but sit down, and pray +for the worst, as my only chance of getting paid? + +_Ch_. There is nothing else for it;—very little business doing just +now, as you see, owing to the peace. + +_Her_. That is just as well, though it does keep me waiting for my +money. After all, though, Charon, in old days men were men; you +remember the state they used to come down in,—all blood and wounds +generally. Nowadays, a man is poisoned by his slave or his wife; or +gets dropsy from overfeeding; a pale, spiritless lot, nothing like the +men of old. Most of them seem to meet their end in some plot that has +money for its object. + +_Ch_. Ah; money is in great request. + +_Her_. Yes; you can't blame me if I am somewhat urgent for payment. + +F. + +V + +_Pluto. Hermes_ + +_Pl_. You know that old, old fellow, Eucrates the millionaire—no +children, but a few thousand would-be heirs? + +_Her_. Yes—lives at Sicyon. Well? + +_Pl_. Well, Hermes, he is ninety now; let him live as much longer, +please; I should like it to be more still, if possible; and bring me +down his toadies one by one, that young Charinus, Damon, and the rest +of them. + +_Her_. It would seem so strange, wouldn't it? + +_Pl_. On the contrary, it would be ideal justice. What business have +they to pray for his death, or pretend to his money? they are no +relations. The most abominable thing about it is that they vary these +prayers with every public attention; when he is ill, every one knows +what they are after, and yet they vow offerings if he recovers; talk of +versatility! So let him be immortal, and bring them away before him +with their mouths still open for the fruit that never drops. + +_Her_. Well, they _are_ rascals, and it would be a comic ending. He +leads them a pretty life too, on hope gruel; he always looks more dead +than alive, but he is tougher than a young man. They have divided up +the inheritance among them, and feed on imaginary bliss. + +_Pl_. Just so; now he is to throw off his years like Iolaus, and +rejuvenate, while they in the middle of their hopes find themselves +here with their dream-wealth left behind them. Nothing like making the +punishment fit the crime. + +_Her_. Say no more, Pluto; I will fetch you them one after another; +seven of them, is it? + +_Pl_. Down with them; and he shall change from an old man to a blooming +youth, and attend their funerals. + +H. + +VI + +_Terpsion. Pluto_ + +_Ter_. Now is this fair, Pluto,—that I should die at the age of thirty, +and that old Thucritus go on living past ninety? + +_Pl_. Nothing could be fairer. Thucritus lives and is in no hurry for +his neighbours to die; whereas you always had some design against him; +you were waiting to step into his shoes. + +_Ter_. Well, an old man like that is past getting any enjoyment out of +his money; he ought to die, and make room for younger men. + +_Pl_. This is a novel principle: the man who can no longer derive +pleasure from his money is to die!—Fate and Nature have ordered it +otherwise. + +_Ter_. Then they have ordered it wrongly. There ought to be a proper +sequence according to seniority. Things are turned upside down, if an +old man is to go on living with only three teeth in his head, half +blind, tottering about with a pair of slaves on each side to hold him +up, drivelling and rheumy-eyed, having no joy of life, a living tomb, +the derision of his juniors,—and young men are to die in the prime of +their strength and beauty. 'Tis contrary to nature. At any rate the +young men have a right to know when the old are going to die, so that +they may not throw away their attentions on them for nothing, as is +sometimes the case. The present arrangement is a putting of the cart +before the horse. + +_Pl_. There is a great deal more sound sense in it than you suppose, +Terpsion. Besides, what right have you young fellows got to be prying +after other men's goods, and thrusting yourselves upon your childless +elders? You look rather foolish, when you get buried first; it tickles +people immensely; the more fervent your prayers for the death of your +aged friend, the greater is the general exultation when you precede +him. It has become quite a profession lately, this amorous devotion to +old men and women,—childless, of course; children destroy the illusion. +By the way though, some of the beloved objects see through your dirty +motives well enough by now; they have children, but they pretend to +hate them, and so have lovers all the same. When their wills come to be +read, their faithful bodyguard is not included: nature asserts itself, +the children get their rights, and the lovers realize, with gnashings +of teeth, that they have been taken in. + +_Ter_. Too true! The luxuries that Thucritus has enjoyed at my expense! +He always looked as if he were at the point of death. I never went to +see him, but he would groan and squeak like a chicken barely out of the +shell: I considered that he might step into his coffin at any moment, +and heaped gift upon gift, for fear of being outdone in generosity by +my rivals; I passed anxious, sleepless nights, reckoning and arranging +all; 'twas this, the sleeplessness and the anxiety, that brought me to +my death. And he swallows my bait whole, and attends my funeral +chuckling. + +_Pl_. Well done, Thucritus! Long may you live to enjoy your wealth,—and +your joke at the youngsters' expense; many a toady may you send hither +before your own time comes! + +_Ter_. Now I think of it, it _would_ be a satisfaction if Charoeades +were to die before him. + +_Pl_. Charoeades! My dear Terpsion, Phido, Melanthus,—every one of them +will be here before Thucritus,—all victims of this same anxiety! + +_Ter_. That is as it should be. Hold on, Thucritus! + +F. + +VII + +_Zenophantus. Callidemides_ + +_Ze_. Ah, Callidemides, and how did _you_ come by your end? As for me, +I was free of Dinias's table, and there died of a surfeit; but that is +stale news; you were there, of course. + +_Cal_. Yes, I was. Now there was an element of surprise about _my_ +fate. I suppose you know that old Ptoeodorus? + +_Ze_. The rich man with no children, to whom you gave most of your +company? + +_Cal_. That is the man; he had promised to leave me his heir, and I +used to show my appreciation. However, it went on such a time; Tithonus +was a juvenile to him; so I found a short cut to my property. I bought +a potion, and agreed with the butler that next time his master called +for wine (he is a pretty stiff drinker) he should have this ready in a +cup and present it; and I was pledged to reward the man with his +freedom. + +_Ze_. And what happened? this is interesting. + +_Cal_. When we came from bath, the young fellow had two cups ready, one +with the poison for Ptoeodorus, and the other for me; but by some +blunder he handed me the poisoned cup, and Ptoeodorus the plain; and +behold, before he had done drinking, there was I sprawling on the +ground, a vicarious corpse! Why are you laughing so, Zenophantus? I am +your friend; such mirth is unseemly. + +_Ze_. Well, it was such a humorous exit. And how did the old man +behave? + +_Cal_. He was dreadfully distressed for the moment; then he saw, I +suppose, and laughed as much as you over the butler's trick. + +_Ze_. Ah, short cuts are no better for you than for other people, you +see; the high road would have been safer, if not quite so quick. + +H. + +VIII + +_Cnemon. Damnippus_ + +_Cne_. Why, 'tis the proverb fulfilled! The fawn hath taken the lion. + +_Dam_. What's the matter, Cnemon? + +_Cne_. The matter! I have been fooled, miserably fooled. I have passed +over all whom I should have liked to make my heirs, and left my money +to the wrong man. + +_Dam_. How was that? + +_Cne_. I had been speculating on the death of Hermolaus, the +millionaire. He had no children, and my attentions had been well +received by him. I thought it would be a good idea to let him know that +I had made my will in his favour, on the chance of its exciting his +emulation. + +_Dam_. Yes; and Hermolaus? + +_Cne_. What _his_ will was, I don't know. I died suddenly,—the roof +came down about my ears; and now Hermolaus is my heir. The pike has +swallowed hook and bait. + +_Dam_. And your anglership into the bargain. The pit that you digged +for other…. + +_Cue_. That's about the truth of the matter, confound it. + +F. + +IX + +_Simylus. Polystratus_ + +_Si_. So here you are at last, Polystratus; you must be something very +like a centenarian. + +_Pol_. Ninety-eight. + +_Si_. And what sort of a life have you had of it, these thirty years? +you were about seventy when I died. + +_Pol_. Delightful, though you may find it hard to believe. + +_Si_. It is surprising that you could have any joy of your life—old, +weak, and childless, moreover. + +_Pol_. In the first place, I could do just what I liked; there were +still plenty of handsome boys and dainty women; perfumes were sweet, +wine kept its bouquet, Sicilian feasts were nothing to mine. + +_Si_. This _is_ a change, to be sure; you were very economical in my +day. + +_Pol_. Ah, but, my simple friend, these good things were presents—came +in streams. From dawn my doors were thronged with visitors, and in the +day it was a procession of the fairest gifts of earth. + +_Si_. Why, you must have seized the crown after my death. + +_Pol_. Oh no, it was only that I inspired a number of tender passions. + +_Si_. Tender passions, indeed! what, you, an old man with hardly a +tooth left in your head! + +_Pol_. Certainly; the first of our townsmen were in love with me. Such +as you see me, old, bald, blear-eyed, rheumy, they delighted to do me +honour; happy was the man on whom my glance rested a moment. + +_Si_. Well, then, you had some adventure like Phaon's, when he rowed +Aphrodite across from Chios; your God granted your prayer and made you +young and fair and lovely again. + +_Pol_. No, no; I was as you see me, and I was the object of all desire. + +_Si_. Oh, I give it up. + +_Pol_. Why, I should have thought you knew the violent passion for old +men who have plenty of money and no children. + +_Si_. Ah, now I comprehend your beauty, old fellow; it was the _Golden_ +Aphrodite bestowed it. + +_Pol_. I assure you, Simylus, I had a good deal of satisfaction out of +my lovers; they idolized me, almost. Often I would be coy and shut some +of them out. Such rivalries! such jealous emulations! + +_Si_. And how did you dispose of your fortune in the end? + +_Pol_. I gave each an express promise to make him my heir; he believed, +and treated me to more attentions than ever; meanwhile I had another +genuine will, which was the one I left, with a message to them all to +go hang. + +_Si_. Who was the heir by this one? one of your relations, I suppose. + +_Pol_. Not likely; it was a handsome young Phrygian I had lately +bought. + +_Si_. Age? + +_Pol_. About twenty. + +_Si_. Ah, I can guess his office. + +_Pol_. Well, you know, he deserved the inheritance much better than +they did; he was a barbarian and a rascal; but by this time he has the +best of society at his beck. So he inherited; and now he is one of the +aristocracy; his smooth chin and his foreign accent are no bars to his +being called nobler than Codrus, handsomer than Nireus, wiser than +Odysseus. + +_Si_. Well, _I_ don't mind; let him be Emperor of Greece, if he likes, +so long as he keeps the property away from that other crew. + +H. + +X + +_Charon. Hermes. Various Shades_ + +_Ch_. I'll tell you how things stand. Our craft, as you see, is small, +and leaky, and three-parts rotten; a single lurch, and she will capsize +without more ado. And here are all you passengers, each with his +luggage. If you come on board like that, I am afraid you may have cause +to repent it; especially those who have not learnt to swim. + +_Her_. Then how are we to make a trip of it? + +_Ch_. I'll tell you. They must leave all this nonsense behind them on +shore, and come aboard in their skins. As it is, there will be no room +to spare. And in future, Hermes, mind you admit no one till he has +cleared himself of encumbrances, as I say. Stand by the gangway, and +keep an eye on them, and make them strip before you let them pass. + +_Her_. Very good. Well, Number One, who are you? + +_Men_. Menippus. Here are my wallet and staff; overboard with them. I +had the sense not to bring my cloak. + +_Her_. Pass on, Menippus; you're a good fellow; you shall have the seat +of honour, up by the pilot, where you can see every one.—Here is a +handsome person; who is he? + +_Char_. Charmoleos of Megara; the irresistible, whose kiss was worth a +thousand pounds. + +_Her_. That beauty must come off,—lips, kisses, and all; the flowing +locks, the blushing cheeks, the skin entire. That's right. Now we're in +better trim;—you may pass on.—And who is the stunning gentleman in the +purple and the diadem? + +_Lam_. I am Lampichus, tyrant of Gela. + +_Her_. And what is all this splendour doing here, Lampichus? + +_Lam_. How! would you have a tyrant come hither stripped? + +_Her_. A tyrant! That would be too much to expect. But with a shade we +must insist. Off with these things. + +_Lam_. There, then: away goes my wealth. + +_Her_. Pomp must go too, and pride; we shall be overfreighted else. + +_Lam_. At least let me keep my diadem and robes. + +_Her_. No, no; off they come! + +_Lam_. Well? That is all, as you see for yourself. + +_Her_. There is something more yet: cruelty, folly, insolence, hatred. + +_Lam_. There then: I am bare. + +_Her_. Pass on.—And who may you be, my bulky friend? + +_Dam_. Damasias the athlete. + +_Her_. To be sure; many is the time I have seen you in the gymnasium. + +_Dam_. You have. Well, I have peeled; let me pass. + +_Her_. Peeled! my dear sir, what, with all this fleshy encumbrance? +Come, off with it; we should go to the bottom if you put one foot +aboard. And those crowns, those victories, remove them. + +_Dam_. There; no mistake about it this time; I am as light as any shade +among them. + +_Her_. That's more the kind of thing. On with you.—Crato, you can take +off that wealth and luxury and effeminacy; and we can't have that +funeral pomp here, nor those ancestral glories either; down with your +rank and reputation, and any votes of thanks or inscriptions you have +about you; and you need not tell us what size your tomb was; remarks of +that kind come heavy. + +_Cra_. Well, if I must, I must; there's no help for it. + +_Her_. Hullo! in full armour? What does this mean? and why this trophy? + +_A General_. I am a great conqueror; a valiant warrior; my country's +pride. + +_Her_. The trophy may stop behind; we are at peace; there is no demand +for arms.—Whom have we here? whose is this knitted brow, this flowing +beard? 'Tis some reverend sage, if outside goes for anything; he +mutters; he is wrapped in meditation. + +_Men_. That's a philosopher, Hermes; and an impudent quack not the +bargain. Have him out of that cloak; you will find something to amuse +you underneath it. + +_Her_. Off with your clothes first; and then we will see to the rest. +My goodness, what a bundle: quackery, ignorance, quarrelsomeness, +vainglory; idle questionings, prickly arguments, intricate conceptions; +humbug and gammon and wishy-washy hair-splittings without end; and +hullo! why here's avarice, and self-indulgence, and impudence! luxury, +effeminacy and peevishness!—Yes, I see them all; you need not try to +hide them. Away with falsehood and swagger and superciliousness; why, +the three-decker is not built that would hold you with all this +luggage. + +_A Philosopher_. I resign them all, since such is your bidding. + +_Men_. Have his beard off too, Hermes; only look what a ponderous bush +of a thing! There's a good five pounds' weight there. + +_Her_. Yes; the beard must go. + +_Phil_. And who shall shave me? + +_Her_. Menippus here shall take it off with the carpenter's axe; the +gangway will serve for a block. + +_Men_. Oh, can't I have a saw, Hermes? It would be much better fun. + +_Her_. The axe must serve.—Shrewdly chopped!—Why, you look more like a +man and less like a goat already. + +_Men_. A little off the eyebrows? + +_Her_. Why, certainly; he has trained them up all over his forehead, +for reasons best known to himself.—Worm! what, snivelling? afraid of +death? Oh, get on board with you. + +_Men_. He has still got the biggest thumper of all under his arm. + +_Her_. What's that? + +_Men_. Flattery; many is the good turn that has done him. + +_Phil_. Oh, all right, Menippus; suppose you leave your independence +behind you, and your plain—speaking, and your indifference, and your +high spirit, and your jests!—No one else here has a jest about him. + +_Her_. Don't you, Menippus! you stick to them; useful commodities, +these, on shipboard; light and handy.—You rhetorician there, with your +verbosities and your barbarisms, your antitheses and balances and +periods, off with the whole pack of them. + +_Rhet_. Away they go. + +_Her_. All's ready. Loose the cable, and pull in the gangway; haul up +the anchor; spread all sail; and, pilot, look to your helm. Good luck +to our voyage!—What are you all whining about, you fools? You +philosopher, late of the beard,—you're as bad as any of them. + +_Phil_. Ah, Hermes: I had thought that the soul was immortal. + +_Men_. He lies: that is not the cause of his distress. + +_Her_. What is it, then? + +_Men_. He knows that he will never have a good dinner again; never +sneak about at night with his cloak over his head, going the round of +the brothels; never spend his mornings in fooling boys out of their +money, under the pretext of teaching them wisdom. + +_Phil_. And pray are _you_ content to be dead? + +_Men_. It may be presumed so, as I sought death of my own accord.—By +the way, I surely heard a noise, as if people were shouting on the +earth? + +_Her_. You did; and from more than one quarter.—There are people +running in a body to the Town-hall, exulting over the death of +Lampichus; the women have got hold of his wife; his infant children +fare no better,—the boys are giving them handsome pelting. Then again +you hear the applause that greets the orator Diophantus, as he +pronounces the funeral oration of our friend Crato. Ah yes, and that's +Damasias's mother, with her women, striking up a dirge. No one has tear +for you, Menippus; your remains are left in peace. Privileged person! + +_Men_. Wait a bit: before long you will hear the mournful howl of dogs, +and the beating of crows' wings, as they gather to perform my funeral +rites. + +_Her_. I like your spirit.—However, here we are in port. Away with you +all to the judgement-seat; it is straight ahead. The ferryman and I +must go back for a fresh load. + +_Men_. Good voyage to you, Hermes.—Let us be getting on; what are you +all waiting for? We have got to face the judge, sooner or later; and by +all accounts his sentences are no joke; wheels, rocks, vultures are +mentioned. Every detail of our lives will now come to light! + +F. + +XI + +_Crates. Diogenes_ + +_Cra_. Did you know Moerichus of Corinth, Diogenes? A shipowner, +rolling in money, with a cousin called Aristeas, nearly as rich. He had +a Homeric quotation:—Wilt thou heave me? shall I heave thee? + +[Footnote: Homer, Il. xxiii. 724. When Ajax and Odysseus have wrestled +for some time without either's producing any impression, and the +spectators are getting tired of it, the former proposes a change in +tactics. "Let us hoist—try you with me or I with you." The idea +evidently is that each in turn is to offer only a passive resistance, +and let his adversary try to fling him thus.' _Leaf_.] + +_Diog_. What was the point of it? + +_Cra_. Why, the cousins were of equal age, expected to succeed to each +other's wealth, and behaved accordingly. They published their wills, +each naming the other sole heir in case of his own prior decease. So it +stood in black and white, and they vied with each other in showing that +deference which the relation demands. All the prophets, astrologers, +and Chaldean dream-interpreters alike, and Apollo himself for that +matter, held different views at different times about the winner; the +thousands seemed to incline now to Aristeas's side, now to Moerichus's. + +_Diog_. And how did it end? I am quite curious. + +_Cra_. They both died on the same day, and the properties passed to +Eunomius and Thrasycles, two relations who had never had a presentiment +of it. They had been crossing from Sicyon to Cirrha, when they were +taken aback by a squall from the north-west, and capsized in +mid-channel. + +_Diog_. Cleverly done. Now, when we were alive, we never had such +designs on one another. I never prayed for Antisthenes's death, with a +view to inheriting his staff—though it was an extremely serviceable +one, which he had cut himself from a wild olive; and I do not credit +you, Crates, with ever having had an eye to my succession; it included +the tub, and a wallet with two pints of lupines in it. + +_Cra_. Why, no; these things were superfluities to me—and to yourself, +indeed. The real necessities you inherited from Antisthenes, and I from +you; and in those necessities was more grandeur and majesty than in the +Persian Empire. + +_Diog_. You allude to—- + +_Cra_. Wisdom, independence, truth, frankness, freedom. + +_Diog_. To be sure; now I think of it, I did inherit all this from +Antisthenes, and left it to you with some addition. + +_Cra_. Others, however, were not interested in such property; no one +paid us the attentions of an expectant heir; they all had their eyes on +gold, instead. + +_Diog_. Of course; they had no receptacle for such things as we could +give; luxury had made them so leaky—as full of holes as a worn-out +purse. Put wisdom, frankness, or truth into them, and it would have +dropped out; the bottom of the bag would have let them through, like +the perforated cask into which those poor Danaids are always pouring. +Gold, on the other hand, they could grip with tooth or nail or somehow. + +_Cra_. Result: our wealth will still be ours down here; while they will +arrive with no more than one penny, and even that must be left with the +ferryman. + +H. + +XII + +_Alexander. Hannibal. Minos. Scipio_ + +_Alex_. Libyan, I claim precedence of you. I am the better man. + +_Han_. Pardon me. + +_Alex_. Then let Minos decide. + +_Mi_. Who are you both? + +_Alex_. This is Hannibal, the Carthaginian: I am Alexander, the son of +Philip. + +_Mi_. Bless me, a distinguished pair! And what is the quarrel about? + +_Alex_. It is a question of precedence. He says he is the better +general: and I maintain that neither Hannibal nor (I might almost add) +any of my predecessors was my equal in strategy; all the world knows +that. + +_Mi_. Well, you shall each have your say in turn: the Libyan first. + +_Han_. Fortunately for me, Minos, I have mastered Greek since I have +been here; so that my adversary will not have even that advantage of +me. Now I hold that the highest praise is due to those who have won +their way to greatness from obscurity; who have clothed themselves in +power, and shown themselves fit for dominion. I myself entered Spain +with a handful of men, took service under my brother, and was found +worthy of the supreme command. I conquered the Celtiberians, subdued +Western Gaul, crossed the Alps, overran the valley of the Po, sacked +town after town, made myself master of the plains, approached the +bulwarks of the capital, and in one day slew such a host, that their +finger-rings were measured by bushels, and the rivers were bridged by +their bodies. And this I did, though I had never been called a son of +Ammon; I never pretended to be a god, never related visions of my +mother; I made no secret of the fact that I was mere flesh and blood. +My rivals were the ablest generals in the world, commanding the best +soldiers in the world; I warred not with Medes or Assyrians, who fly +before they are pursued, and yield the victory to him that dares take +it. + +Alexander, on the other hand, in increasing and extending as he did the +dominion which he had inherited from his father, was but following the +impetus given to him by Fortune. And this conqueror had no sooner +crushed his puny adversary by the victories of Issus and Arbela, than +he forsook the traditions of his country, and lived the life of a +Persian; accepting the prostrations of his subjects, assassinating his +friends at his own table, or handing them over to the executioner. I in +my command respected the freedom of my country, delayed not to obey her +summons, when the enemy with their huge armament invaded Libya, laid +aside the privileges of my office, and submitted to my sentence without +a murmur. Yet I was a barbarian all unskilled in Greek culture; I could +not recite Homer, nor had I enjoyed the advantages of Aristotle's +instruction; I had to make a shift with such qualities as were mine by +nature.—It is on these grounds that I claim the pre-eminence. My rival +has indeed all the lustre that attaches to the wearing of a diadem, +and—I know not—for Macedonians such things may have charms: but I +cannot think that this circumstance constitutes a higher claim than the +courage and genius of one who owed nothing to Fortune, and everything +to his own resolution. + +_Mi_. Not bad, for a Libyan.—Well, Alexander, what do you say to that? + +_Alex_. Silence, Minos, would be the best answer to such confident +self-assertion. The tongue of Fame will suffice of itself to convince +you that I was a great prince, and my opponent a petty adventurer. But +I would have you consider the distance between us. Called to the throne +while I was yet a boy, I quelled the disorders of my kingdom, and +avenged my father's murder. By the destruction of Thebes, I inspired +the Greeks with such awe, that they appointed me their +commander-in-chief; and from that moment, scorning to confine myself to +the kingdom that I inherited from my father, I extended my gaze over +the entire face of the earth, and thought it shame if I should govern +less than the whole. With a small force I invaded Asia, gained a great +victory on the Granicus, took Lydia, lonia, Phrygia,—in short, subdued +all that was within my reach, before I commenced my march for Issus, +where Darius was waiting for me at the head of his myriads. You know +the sequel: yourselves can best say what was the number of the dead +whom on one day I dispatched hither. The ferryman tells me that his +boat would not hold them; most of them had to come across on rafts of +their own construction. In these enterprises, I was ever at the head of +my troops, ever courted danger. To say nothing of Tyre and Arbela, I +penetrated into India, and carried my empire to the shores of Ocean; I +captured elephants; I conquered Porus; I crossed the Tanais, and +worsted the Scythians—no mean enemies—in a tremendous cavalry +engagement. I heaped benefits upon my friends: I made my enemies taste +my resentment. If men took me for a god, I cannot blame them; the +vastness of my undertakings might excuse such a belief. But to +conclude. I died a king: Hannibal, a fugitive at the court of the +Bithynian Prusias—fitting end for villany and cruelty. Of his Italian +victories I say nothing; they were the fruit not of honest legitimate +warfare, but of treachery, craft, and dissimulation. He taunts me with +self-indulgence: my illustrious friend has surely forgotten the +pleasant time he spent in Capua among the ladies, while the precious +moments fleeted by. Had I not scorned the Western world, and turned my +attention to the East, what would it have cost me to make the bloodless +conquest of Italy, and Libya, and all, as far West as Gades? But +nations that already cowered beneath a master were unworthy of my +sword.—I have finished, Minos, and await your decision; of the many +arguments I might have used, these shall suffice. + +_Sci_. First, Minos, let me speak. + +_Mi_. And who are you, friend? and where do you come from? + +_Sci_. I am Scipio, the Roman general, who destroyed Carthage, and +gained great victories over the Libyans. + +_Mi_. Well, and what have you to say? + +_Sci_. That Alexander is my superior, and I am Hannibal's, having +defeated him, and driven him to ignominious flight. What impudence is +this, to contend with Alexander, to whom I, your conqueror, would not +presume to compare myself! + +_Mi_. Honestly spoken, Scipio, on my word! Very well, then: Alexander +comes first, and you next; and I think we must say Hannibal third. And +a very creditable third, too. + +F. + +XIII + +_Diogenes. Alexander_ + +_Diog_. Dear me, Alexander, _you_ dead like the rest of us? + +_Alex_. As you see, sir; is there anything extraordinary in a mortal's +dying? + +_Diog_. So Ammon lied when he said you were his son; you were Philip's +after all. + +_Alex_. Apparently; if I had been Ammon's, I should not have died. + +_Diog_. Strange! there were tales of the same order about Olympias too. +A serpent visited her, and was seen in her bed; we were given to +understand that that was how you came into the world, and Philip made a +mistake when he took you for his. + +_Alex_. Yes, I was told all that myself; however, I know now that my +mother's and the Ammon stories were all moonshine. + +_Diog_. Their lies were of some practical value to you, though; your +divinity brought a good many people to their knees. But now, whom did +you leave your great empire to? + +_Alex_. Diogenes, I cannot tell you. I had no time to leave any +directions about it, beyond just giving Perdiccas my ring as I died. +Why are you laughing? + +_Diog_. Oh, I was only thinking of the Greeks' behaviour; directly you +succeeded, how they flattered you! their elected patron, generalissimo +against the barbarian; one of the twelve Gods according to some; +temples built and sacrifices offered to the Serpent's son! If I may +ask, where did your Macedonians bury you? + +_Alex_. I have lain in Babylon a full month to-day; and Ptolemy of the +Guards is pledged, as soon as he can get a moment's respite from +present disturbances, to take and bury me in Egypt, there to be +reckoned among the Gods. + +_Diog_. I have some reason to laugh, you see; still nursing vain hopes +of developing into an Osiris or Anubis! Pray, your Godhead, put these +expectations from you; none may re-ascend who has once sailed the lake +and penetrated our entrance; Aeacus is watchful, and Cerberus an +awkward customer. But there is one thing I wish you would tell me: how +do you like thinking over all the earthly bliss you left to come +here—your guards and armour-bearers and lieutenant-governors, your +heaps of gold and adoring peoples, Babylon and Bactria, your huge +elephants, your honour and glory, those conspicuous drives with +white-cinctured locks and clasped purple cloak? does the thought of +them _hurt_? What, crying? silly fellow! did not your wise Aristotle +include in his instructions any hint of the insecurity of fortune's +favours? + +_Alex_. Wise? call him the craftiest of all flatterers. Allow me to +know a little more than other people about Aristotle; his requests and +his letters came to _my_ address; _I_ know how he profited by my +passion for culture; how he would toady and compliment me, to be sure! +now it was my beauty—that too is included under The Good; now it was my +deeds and my money; for money too he called a Good—he meant that he was +not going to be ashamed of taking it. Ah, Diogenes, an impostor; and a +past master at it too. For me, the result of his wisdom is that I am +distressed for the things you catalogued just now, as if I had lost in +them the chief Goods. + +_Diog_. Wouldst know thy course? I will prescribe for your distress. +Our flora, unfortunately, does not include hellebore; but you take +plenty of Lethe-water—good, deep, repeated draughts; that will relieve +your distress over the Aristotelian Goods. Quick; here are Clitus, +Callisthenes, and a lot of others making for you; they mean to tear you +in pieces and pay you out. Here, go the opposite way; and remember, +repeated draughts. + +H. + +XIV + +_Philip. Alexander_ + +_Phil_. You cannot deny that you are my son this time, Alexander; you +would not have died if you had been Ammon's. + +_Alex_. I knew all the time that you, Philip, son of Amyntas, were my +father. I only accepted the statement of the oracle because I thought +it was good policy. + +_Phil_. What, to suffer yourself to be fooled by lying priests? + +_Alex_. No, but it had an awe-inspiring effect upon the barbarians. +When they thought they had a God to deal with, they gave up the +struggle; which made their conquest a simple matter. + +_Phil_. And whom did _you_ ever conquer that was worth conquering? Your +adversaries were ever timid creatures, with their bows and their +targets and their wicker shields. It was other work conquering the +Greeks: Boeotians, Phocians, Athenians; Arcadian hoplites, Thessalian +cavalry, javelin-men from Elis, peltasts of Mantinea; Thracians, +Illyrians, Paeonians; to subdue these was something. But for gold-laced +womanish Medes and Persians and Chaldaeans,—why, it had been done +before: did you never hear of the expedition of the Ten Thousand under +Clearchus? and how the enemy would not even come to blows with them, +but ran away before they were within bow-shot? + +_Alex_. Still, there were the Scythians, father, and the Indian +elephants; they were no joke. And _my_ conquests were not gained by +dissension or treachery; I broke no oath, no promise, nor ever +purchased victory at the expense of honour. As to the Greeks, most of +them joined me without a struggle; and I dare say you have heard how I +handled Thebes. + +_Phil_. I know all about that; I had it from Clitus, whom you ran +through the body, in the middle of dinner, because he presumed to +mention my achievements in the same breath with yours. They tell me too +that you took to aping the manners of your conquered Medes; abandoned +the Macedonian cloak in favour of the _candys_, assumed the upright +tiara, and exacted oriental prostrations from Macedonian freemen! This +is delicious. As to your brilliant matches, and your beloved +Hephaestion, and your scholars in lions' cages,—the less said the +better. I have only heard one thing to your credit: you respected the +person of Darius's beautiful wife, and you provided for his mother and +daughters; there you acted like a king. + +_Alex_. And have you nothing to say of my adventurous spirit, father, +when I was the first to leap down within the ramparts of Oxydracae, and +was covered with wounds? + +_Phil_. Not a word. Not that it is a bad thing, in my opinion, for a +king to get wounded occasionally, and to face danger at the head of his +troops: but this was the last thing that you were called upon to do. +You were passing for a God; and your being wounded, and carried off the +field on a litter, bleeding and groaning, could only excite the +ridicule of the spectators: Ammon stood convicted of quackery, his +oracle of falsehood, his priests of flattery. The son of Zeus in a +swoon, requiring medical assistance! who could help laughing at the +sight? And now that you have died, can you doubt that many a jest is +being cracked on the subject of your divinity, as men contemplate the +God's corpse laid out for burial, and already going the way of all +flesh? Besides, your achievements lose half their credit from this very +circumstance which you say was so useful in facilitating your +conquests: nothing you did could come up to your divine reputation. + +_Alex_. The world thinks otherwise. I am ranked with Heracles and +Dionysus; and, for that matter, I took Aornos, which was more than +either of them could do. + +_Phil_. There spoke the son of Ammon. Heracles and Dionysus, indeed! +You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Alexander; when will you learn to +drop that bombast, and know yourself for the shade that you are? + +F. + +XV + +_Antilochus. Achilles_ + +_Ant_. Achilles, what you were saying to Odysseus the other day about +death was very poor-spirited; I should have expected better things from +a pupil of Chiron and Phoenix. I was listening; you said you would +rather be a servant on earth to some poor hind 'of scanty livelihood +possessed,' than king of all the dead. Such sentiments might have been +very well in the mouth of a poor-spirited cowardly Phrygian, +dishonourably in love with life: for the son of Peleus, boldest of all +Heroes, so to vilify himself, is a disgrace; it gives the lie to all +your life; you might have had a long inglorious reign in Phthia, and +your own choice was death and glory. + +_Ach_. In those days, son of Nestor, I knew not this place; ignorant +whether of those two was the better, I esteemed that flicker of fame +more than life; now I see that it is worthless, let folk up there make +what verses of it they will. 'Tis dead level among the dead, +Antilochus; strength and beauty are no more; we welter all in the same +gloom, one no better than another; the shades of Trojans fear me not, +Achaeans pay me no reverence; each may say what he will; a man is a +ghost, 'or be he churl, or be he peer.' It irks me; I would fain be a +servant, and alive. + +_Ant_. But what help, Achilles? 'tis Nature's decree that by all means +all die. We must abide by her law, and not fret at her commands. +Consider too how many of us are with you here; Odysseus comes ere long; +how else? Is there not comfort in the common fate? 'tis something not +to suffer alone. See Heracles, Meleager, and many another great one; +they, methinks, would not choose return, if one would send them up to +serve poor destitute men. + +_Ach_. Ay, your intent is friendly; but I know not, the thought of the +past life irks me—and each of you too, if I mistake not. And if you +confess it not, the worse for you, smothering your pain. + +_Ant_. Not the worse, Achilles; the better; for we see that speech is +unavailing. Be silent, bear, endure—that is our resolve, lest such +longings bring mockery on us, as on you. + +H. + +XVI + +_Diogenes. Heracles_ + +_Diog_. Surely this is Heracles I see? By his godhead, 'tis no other! +The bow, the club, the lion's-skin, the giant frame; 'tis Heracles +complete. Yet how should this be?—a son of Zeus, and mortal? I say, +Mighty Conqueror, are you dead? I used to sacrifice to you in the other +world; I understood you were a God! + +_Her_. Thou didst well. Heracles is with the Gods in Heaven, + +And hath white-ankled Hebe there to wife. + + +I am his phantom. + +_Diog_. His phantom! What then, can one half of any one be a God, and +the other half mortal? + +_Her_. Even so. The God still lives. 'Tis I, his counterpart, am dead. + +_Diog_. I see. You're a dummy; he palms you off upon Pluto, instead of +coming himself. And here are you, enjoying _his_ mortality! + +_Her_. 'Tis somewhat as thou hast said. + +_Diog_. Well, but where were Aeacus's keen eyes, that he let a +counterfeit Heracles pass under his very nose, and never knew the +difference? + +_Her_. I was made very like to him. + +_Diog_. I believe you! Very like indeed, no difference at all! Why, we +may find it's the other way round, that you are Heracles, and the +phantom is in Heaven, married to Hebe! + +_Her_. Prating knave, no more of thy gibes; else thou shalt presently +learn how great a God calls me phantom. + +_Diog_. H'm. That bow looks as if it meant business. And yet,—what have +I to fear now? A man can die but once. Tell me, phantom,—by your great +Substance I adjure you—did you serve him in your present capacity in +the upper world? Perhaps you were one individual during your lives, the +separation taking place only at your deaths, when he, the God, soared +heavenwards, and you, the phantom, very properly made your appearance +here? + +_Her_. Thy ribald questions were best unanswered. Yet thus much thou +shalt know.—All that was Amphitryon in Heracles, is dead; I am that +mortal part. The Zeus in him lives, and is with the Gods in Heaven. + +_Diog_. Ah, now I see! Alcmena had twins, you mean,—Heracles the son of +Zeus, and Heracles the son of Amphitryon? You were really half-bothers +all the time? + +_Her_. Fool! not so. We twain were one Heracles. + +_Diog_. It's a little difficult to grasp, the two Heracleses packed +into one. I suppose you must have been like a sort of Centaur, man and +God all mixed together? + +_Her_. And are not all thus composed of two elements,—the body and the +soul? What then should hinder the soul from being in Heaven, with Zeus +who gave it, and the mortal part—myself—among the dead? + +_Diog_. Yes, yes, my esteemed son of Amphitryon,—that would be all very +well if you were a body; but you see you are a phantom, you have no +body. At this rate we shall get three Heracleses. + +_Her_. _Three_? + +_Diog_. Yes; look here. One in Heaven: one in Hades, that's you, the +phantom: and lastly the body, which by this time has returned to dust. +That makes three. Can you think of a good father for number Three? + +_Her_. Impudent quibbler! And who art _thou_? + +_Diog_. I am Diogenes's phantom, late of Sinope. But my original, I +assure you, is not 'among th' immortal Gods,' but here among dead men; +where he enjoys the best of company, and snaps my fingers at Homer and +all hair-splitting. + +F. + +XVII + +_Menippus. Tantalus_ + +_Me_. What are you crying out about, Tantalus? standing at the edge and +whining like that! + +_Tan_. Ah, Menippus, I thirst, I perish! + +_Me_. What, not enterprise enough to bend down to it, or scoop up some +in your palm? + +_Tan_. It is no use bending down; the water shrinks away as soon as it +sees me coming. And if I do scoop it up and get it to my mouth, the +outside of my lips is hardly moist before it has managed to run through +my fingers, and my hand is as dry as ever. + +_Me_. A very odd experience, that. But by the way, why do you want to +drink? you have no body—the part of you that was liable to hunger and +thirst is buried in Lydia somewhere; how can you, the spirit, hunger or +thirst any more? + +_Tan_. Therein lies my punishment—soul thirsts as if it were body. + +_Me_. Well, let that pass, as you say thirst is your punishment. But +why do you mind it? are you afraid of _dying_, for want of drink? I do +not know of any second Hades; can you die to this one, and go further? + +_Tan_. No, that is quite true. But you see this is part of the +sentence: I must long for drink, though I have no need of it. + +_Me_. There is no meaning in that. There _is_ a draught you need, +though; some neat hellebore is what _you_ want; you are suffering from +a converse hydrophobia; you are not afraid of water, but you are of +thirst. + +_Tan_. I would as lief drink hellebore as anything, if I could but +drink. + +_Me_. Never fear, Tantalus; neither you nor any other ghost will ever +do that; it is impossible, you see; just as well we have not all got a +penal thirst like you, with the water running away from us. + +H. + +XVIII + +_Menippus. Hermes_ + +_Me_. Where are all the beauties, Hermes? Show me round; I am a +new-comer. + +_Her_. I am busy, Menippus. But look over there to your right, and you +will see Hyacinth, Narcissus, Nireus, Achilles, Tyro, Helen, Leda,—all +the beauties of old. + +_Me_. I can only see bones, and bare skulls; most of them are exactly +alike. + +_Her_. Those bones, of which you seem to think so lightly, have been +the theme of admiring poets. + +_Me_. Well, but show me Helen; I shall never be able to make her out by +myself. + +_Her_. This skull is Helen. + +_Me_. And for this a thousand ships carried warriors from every part of +Greece; Greeks and barbarians were slain, and cities made desolate. + +_Her_. Ah, Menippus, you never saw the living Helen; or you would have +said with Homer, + + Well might they suffer grievous years of toil + Who strove for such a prize. + + +We look at withered flowers, whose dye is gone from them, and what can +we call them but unlovely things? Yet in the hour of their bloom these +unlovely things were things of beauty. + +_Me_. Strange, that the Greeks could not realize what it was for which +they laboured; how short-lived, how soon to fade. + +_Her_. I have no time for moralizing. Choose your spot, where you will, +and lie down. I must go to fetch new dead. + +F. + +XIX + +_Aeacus. Protesilaus. Menelaus. Paris_ + +_Aea_. Now then, Protesilaus, what do you mean by assaulting and +throttling Helen? + +_Pro_. Why, it was all her fault that I died, leaving my house half +built, and my bride a widow. + +_Aea_. You should blame Menelaus, for taking you all to Troy after such +a light-o'-love. + +_Pro_. That is true; he shall answer it. + +_Me_. No, no, my dear sir; Paris surely is the man; he outraged all +rights in carrying off his host's wife with him. _He_ deserves +throttling, if you like, and not from you only, but from Greeks and +barbarians as well, for all the deaths he brought upon them. + +_Pro_. Ah, now I have it. Here, you—you _Paris! you_ shall not escape +my clutches. + +_Pa_. Oh, come, sir, you will never wrong one of the same gentle craft +as yourself. Am I not a lover too, and a subject of your deity? against +love you know (with the best will in the world) how vain it is to +strive; 'tis a spirit that draws us whither it will. + +_Pro_. There is reason in that. Oh, would that I had Love himself here +in these hands! + +_Aea_. Permit me to charge myself with his defence. He does not +absolutely deny his responsibility for Paris's love; but that for your +death he refers to yourself, Protesilaus. You forgot all about your +bride, fell in love with fame, and, directly the fleet touched the +Troad, took that rash senseless leap, which brought you first to shore +and to death. + +_Pro_. Now it is my turn to correct, Aeacus. The blame does not rest +with me, but with Fate; so was my thread spun from the beginning. + +_Aea_. Exactly so; then why blame our good friends here? + +H. + +XX + +_Menippus. Aeacus. Various Shades_ + +_Me_. In Pluto's name, Aeacus, show me all the sights of Hades. + +_Aea_. That would be rather an undertaking, Menippus. However, you +shall see the principal things. Cerberus here you know already, and the +ferryman who brought you over. And you saw the Styx on your way, and +Pyriphlegethon. + +_Me_. Yes, and you are the gate-keeper; I know all that; and I have +seen the King and the Furies. But show me the men of ancient days, +especially the celebrities. + +_Aea_. This is Agamemnon; this is Achilles; near him, Idomeneus; next +comes Odysseus; then Ajax, Diomede, and all the great Greeks. + +_Me_. Why, Homer, Homer, what is this? All your great heroes flung down +upon the earth, shapeless, undistinguishable; mere meaningless dust; +'strengthless heads,' and no mistake.—Who is this one, Aeacus? + +_Aea_. That is Cyrus; and here is Croesus; beyond him Sardanapalus, and +beyond him again Midas. And yonder is Xerxes. + +_Me_. Ha! and it was before this creature that Greece trembled? this is +our yoker of Hellesponts, our designer of Athos-canals?—Croesus too! a +sad spectacle! As to Sardanapalus, I will lend him a box on the ear, +with your permission. + +_Aea_. And crack his skull, poor dear! Certainly not. + +_Me_. Then I must content myself with spitting in his ladyship's face. + +_Aea_. Would you like to see the philosophers? + +_Me_. I should like it of all things. + +_Aea_. First comes Pythagoras. + +_Me_. Good-day, Euphorbus, _alias_ Apollo, _alias_ what you will. + +_Py_. Good-day, Menippus. + +_Me_. What, no golden thigh nowadays? + +_Py_. Why, no. I wonder if there is anything to eat in that wallet of +yours? + +_Me_. Beans, friend; you don't like beans. + +_Py_. Try me. My principles have changed with my quarters. I find that +down here our parents' heads are in no way connected with beans. + +_Aea_. Here is Solon, the son of Execestides, and there is Thales. By +them are Pittacus, and the rest of the sages, seven in all, as you see. + +_Me_. The only resigned and cheerful countenances yet. Who is the one +covered with ashes, like a loaf baked in the embers? He is all over +blisters. + +_Aea_. That is Empedocles. He was half-roasted when he got here from +Etna. + +_Me_. Tell me, my brazen-slippered friend, what induced you to jump +into the crater? + +_Em_. I did it in a fit of melancholy. + +_Me_. Not you. Vanity, pride, folly; these were what burnt you up, +slippers and all; and serve you right. All that ingenuity was thrown +away, too: your death was detected.—Aeacus, where is Socrates? + +_Aea_. He is generally talking nonsense with Nestor and Palamedes. + +_Me_. But I should like to see him, if he is anywhere about. + +_Aea_. You see the bald one? + +_Me_. They are all bald; that is a distinction without a difference. + +_Aea_. The snub-nosed one. + +_Me_. There again: they are all snub-nosed. + +_Soc_. Do you want me, Menippus? + +_Me_. The very man I am looking for. + +_Soc_. How goes it in Athens? + +_Me_. There are a great many young men there professing philosophy; and +to judge from their dress and their walk, they should be perfect in it. + +_Soc_. I have seen many such. + +_Me_. For that matter, I suppose you saw Aristippus arrive, reeking +with scent; and Plato, the polished flatterer from Sicilian courts? + +_Soc_. And what do they think about _me_ in Athens? + +_Me_. Ah, you are fortunate in that respect. You pass for a most +remarkable man, omniscient in fact. And all the time—if the truth must +out—you know absolutely nothing. + +_Soc_. I told them that myself: but they would have it that that was my +irony. + +_Me_. And who are your friends? + +_Soc_. Charmides; Phaedrus; the son of Clinias. + +_Me_. Ha, ha! still at your old trade; still an admirer of beauty. + +_Soc_. How could I be better occupied? Will you join us? + +_Me_. No, thank you; I am off, to take up my quarters by Croesus and +Sardanapalus. I expect huge entertainment from their outcries. + +_Aea_. I must be off, too; or some one may escape. You shall see the +rest another day, Menippus. + +_Me_. I need not detain you. I have seen enough. + +F. + +XXI + +_Menippus. Cerberus_ + +_Me_. My dear coz—for Cerberus and Cynic are surely related through the +dog—I adjure you by the Styx, tell me how Socrates behaved during the +descent. A God like you can doubtless articulate instead of barking, if +he chooses. + +_Cer_. Well, while he was some way off, he seemed quite unshaken; and I +thought he was bent on letting the people outside realize the fact too. +Then he passed into the opening and saw the gloom; I at the same time +gave him a touch of the hemlock, and a pull by the leg, as he was +rather slow. Then he squalled like a baby, whimpered about his +children, and, oh, I don't know what he didn't do. + +_Me_. So _he_ was one of the theorists, was he? His indifference was a +sham? + +_Cer_. Yes; it was only that he accepted the inevitable, and put a bold +face on it, pretending to welcome the universal fate, by way of +impressing the bystanders. All that sort are the same, I tell you—bold +resolute fellows as far as the entrance; it is inside that the real +test comes. + +_Me_. What did you think of _my_ performance? + +_Cer_. Ah, Menippus, you were the exception; you are a credit to the +breed, and so was Diogenes before you. You two came in without any +compulsion or pushing, of your own free will, with a laugh for +yourselves and a curse for the rest. + +F. + +XXII + +_Charon. Menippus. Hermes_ + +_Ch_. Your fare, you rascal. + +_Me_. Bawl away, Charon, if it gives you any pleasure. + +_Ch_. I brought you across: give me my fare. + +_Me_. I can't, if I haven't got it. + +_Ch_. And who is so poor that he has not got a penny? + +_Me_. I for one; I don't know who else. + +_Ch_. Pay: or, by Pluto, I'll strangle you. + +_Me_. And I'll crack your skull with this stick. + +_Ch_. So you are to come all that way for nothing? + +_Me_. Let Hermes pay for me: he put me on board. + +_Her_. I dare say! A fine time I shall have of it, if I am to pay for +the shades. + +_Ch_. I'm not going to let you off. + +_Me_. You can haul up your ship and wait, for all I care. If I have not +got the money, I can't pay you, can I? + +_Ch_. You knew you ought to bring it? + +_Me_. I knew that: but I hadn't got it. What would you have? I ought +not to have died, I suppose? + +_Ch_. So you are to have the distinction of being the only passenger +that ever crossed gratis? + +_Me_. Oh, come now: gratis! I took an oar, and I baled; and I didn't +cry, which is more than can be said for any of the others. + +_Ch_. That's neither here nor there. I must have my penny; it's only +right. + +_Me_. Well, you had better take me back again to life. + +_Ch_. Yes, and get a thrashing from Aeacus for my pains! I like that. + +_Me_. Well, don't bother me. + +_Ch_. Let me see what you have got in that wallet. + +_Me_. Beans: have some?—and a Hecate's supper. + +_Ch_. Where did you pick up this Cynic, Hermes? The noise he made on +the crossing, too! laughing and jeering at all the rest, and singing, +when every one else was at his lamentations. + +_Her_. Ah, Charon, you little know your passenger! Independence, every +inch of him: he cares for no one. 'Tis Menippus. + +_Ch_. Wait till I catch you—- + +_Me_. Precisely; I'll wait—till you catch me again. + +F. + +XXIII + +_Protesilaus. Pluto. Persephone_ + +_Pro_. Lord, King, our Zeus! and thou, daughter of Demeter! Grant a +lover's boon! + +_Pl_. What do you want? who are you? + +_Pro_. Protesilaus, son of Iphiclus, of Phylace, one of the Achaean +host, the first that died at Troy. And the boon I ask is release and +one day's life. + +_Pl_. Ah, friend, that is the love that all these dead men love, and +none shall ever win. + +_Pro_. Nay, dread lord, 'tis not life I love, but the bride that I left +new wedded in my chamber that day I sailed away—ah me, to be slain by +Hector as my foot touched land! My lord, that yearning gives me no +peace. I return content, if she might look on me but for an hour. + +_Pl_. Did you miss your dose of Lethe, man? + +_Pro_. Nay, lord; but this prevailed against it. + +_Pl_. Oh, well, wait a little; she will come to you one day; it is so +simple; no need for you to be going up. + +_Pro_. My heart is sick with hope deferred; thou too, O Pluto, hast +loved; thou knowest what love is. + +_Pl_. What good will it do you to come to life for a day, and then +renew your pains? + +_Pro_. I think to win her to come with me, and bring two dead for one. + +_Pl_. It may not be; it never has been. + +_Pro_. Bethink thee, Pluto. 'Twas for this same cause that ye gave +Orpheus his Eurydice; and Heracles had interest enough to be granted +Alcestis; she was of my kin. + +_Pl_. Would you like to present that bare ugly skull to your fair +bride? will she admit you, when she cannot tell you from another man? I +know well enough; she will be frightened and run from you, and you will +have gone all that way for nothing. + +_Per_. Husband, doctor that disease yourself: tell Hermes, as soon as +Protesilaus reaches the light, to touch him with his wand, and make him +young and fair as when he left the bridal chamber. + +_Pl_. Well, I cannot refuse a lady. Hermes, take him up and turn him +into a bridegroom. But mind, you sir, a strictly temporary one. + +H. + +XXIV + +_Diogenes. Mausolus_ + +_Diog_. Why so proud, Carian? How are you better than the rest of us? + +_Mau_. Sinopean, to begin with, I was a king; king of all Caria, ruler +of many Lydians, subduer of islands, conqueror of well-nigh the whole +of Ionia, even to the borders of Miletus. Further, I was comely, and of +noble stature, and a mighty warrior. Finally, a vast tomb lies over me +in Halicarnassus, of such dimensions, of such exquisite beauty as no +other shade can boast. Thereon are the perfect semblances of man and +horse, carved in the fairest marble; scarcely may a temple be found to +match it. These are the grounds of my pride: are they inadequate? + +_Diog_. Kingship—beauty—heavy tomb; is that it? + +_Mau_. It is as you say. + +_Diog_. But, my handsome Mausolus, the power and the beauty are no +longer there. If we were to appoint an umpire now on the question of +comeliness, I see no reason why he should prefer your skull to mine. +Both are bald, and bare of flesh; our teeth are equally in evidence; +each of us has lost his eyes, and each is snub-nosed. Then as to the +tomb and the costly marbles, I dare say such a fine erection gives the +Halicarnassians something to brag about and show off to strangers: but +I don't see, friend, that you are the better for it, unless it is that +you claim to carry more weight than the rest of us, with all that +marble on the top of you. + +_Mau_. Then all is to go for nothing? Mausolus and Diogenes are to rank +as equals? + +_Diog_. Equals! My dear sir, no; I don't say that. While Mausolus is +groaning over the memories of earth, and the felicity which he supposed +to be his, Diogenes will be chuckling. While Mausolus boasts of the +tomb raised to him by Artemisia, his wife and sister, Diogenes knows +not whether he has a tomb or no—the question never having occurred to +him; he knows only that his name is on the tongues of the wise, as one +who lived the life of a man; a higher monument than yours, vile Carian +slave, and set on firmer foundations. + +F. + +XXV + +_Nireus. Thersites. Menippus_ + +_Ni_. Here we are; Menippus shall award the palm of beauty. Menippus, +am I not better-looking than he? + +_Me_. Well, who are you? I must know that first, mustn't I? + +_Ni_. Nireus and Thersites. + +_Me_. Which is which? I cannot tell that yet. + +_Ther_. One to me; I am like you; you have no such superiority as Homer +(blind, by the way) gave you when he called you the handsomest of men; +he might peak my head and thin my hair, our judge finds me none the +worse. Now, Menippus, make up your mind which is handsomer. + +_Ni_. I, of course, I, the son of Aglaia and Charopus, + +Comeliest of all that came 'neath Trojan walls. + + +_Me_. But not comeliest of all that come 'neath the earth, as far as I +know. Your bones are much like other people's; and the only difference +between your two skulls is that yours would not take much to stove it +in. It is a tender article, something short of masculine. + +_Ni_. Ask Homer what I was, when I sailed with the Achaeans. + +_Me_. Dreams, dreams. I am looking at what you are; what you were is +ancient history. + +_Ni_. Am I not handsomer here, Menippus? + +_Me_. You are not handsome at all, nor any one else either. Hades is a +democracy; one man is as good as another here. + +_Ther_. And a very tolerable arrangement too, if you ask me. + +H. + +XXVI + +_Menippus. Chiron_ + +_Me_. I have heard that you were a god, Chiron, and that you died of +your own choice? + +_Chi_. You were rightly informed. I am dead, as you see, and might have +been immortal. + +_Me_. And what should possess you, to be in love with Death? He has no +charm for most people. + +_Chi_. You are a sensible fellow; I will tell you. There was no further +satisfaction to be had from immortality. + +_Me_. Was it not a pleasure merely to live and see the light? + +_Chi_. No; it is variety, as I take it, and not monotony, that +constitutes pleasure. Living on and on, everything always the same; +sun, light, food, spring, summer, autumn, winter, one thing following +another in unending sequence,—I sickened of it all. I found that +enjoyment lay not in continual possession; that deprivation had its +share therein. + +_Me_. Very true, Chiron. And how have you got on since you made Hades +your home? + +_Chi_. Not unpleasantly. I like the truly republican equality that +prevails; and as to whether one is in light or darkness, that makes no +difference at all. Then again there is no hunger or thirst here; one is +independent of such things. + +_Me_. Take care, Chiron! You may be caught in the snare of your own +reasonings. + +_Chi_. How should that be? + +_Me_. Why, if the monotony of the other world brought on satiety, the +monotony here may do the same. You will have to look about for a +further change, and I fancy there is no third life procurable. + +_Chi_. Then what is to be done, Menippus? + +_Me_. Take things as you find them, I suppose, like a sensible fellow, +and make the best of everything. + +F. + +XXVII + +_Diogenes. Antisthenes. Crates_ + +_Diog_. Now, friends, we have plenty of time; what say you to a stroll? +we might go to the entrance and have a look at the new-comers—what they +are and how they behave. + +_Ant_. The very thing. It will be an amusing sight—some weeping, some +imploring to be let go, some resisting; when Hermes collars them, they +will stick their heels in and throw their weight back; and all to no +purpose. + +_Cra_. Very well; and meanwhile, let me give you my experiences on the +way down. + +_Diog_. Yes, go on, Crates; I dare say you saw some entertaining +sights. + +_Cra_. We were a large party, of which the most distinguished were +Ismenodorus, a rich townsman of ours, Arsaces, ruler of Media, and +Oroetes the Armenian. Ismenodorus had been murdered by robbers going to +Eleusis over Cithaeron, I believe. He was moaning, nursing his wound, +apostrophizing the young children he had left, and cursing his +foolhardiness. He knew Cithaeron and the Eleutherae district were all +devastated by the wars, and yet he must take only two servants with +him—with five bowls and four cups of solid gold in his baggage, too. +Arsaces was an old man of rather imposing aspect; he expressed his +feelings in true barbaric fashion, was exceedingly angry at being +expected to walk, and kept calling for his horse. In point of fact it +had died with him, it and he having been simultaneously transfixed by a +Thracian pikeman in the fight with the Cappadocians on the Araxes. +Arsaces described to us how he had charged far in advance of his men, +and the Thracian, standing his ground and sheltering himself with his +buckler, warded off the lance, and then, planting his pike, transfixed +man and horse together. + +_Ant_. How could it possibly be done simultaneously? + +_Cra_. Oh, quite simple. The Median was charging with his thirty-foot +lance in front of him; the Thracian knocked it aside with his buckler; +the point glanced by; then he knelt, received the charge on his pike, +pierced the horse's chest—the spirited beast impaling itself by its own +impetus—, and finally ran Arsaces through groin and buttock. You see +what happened; it was the horse's doing rather than the man's. However, +Arsaces did not at all appreciate equality, and wanted to come down on +horseback. As for Oroetes, he was so tender-footed that he could not +stand, far less walk. That is the way with all the Medes—once they are +off their horses, they go delicately on tiptoe as if they were treading +on thorns. He threw himself down, and there he lay; nothing would +induce him to get up; so the excellent Hermes had to pick him up and +carry him to the ferry; how I laughed! + +_Ant_. When _I_ came down, I did not keep with the crowd; I left them +to their blubberings, ran on to the ferry, and secured a comfortable +seat for the passage. Then as we crossed, they were divided between +tears and sea-sickness, and gave me a merry time of it. + +_Diog_. You two have described your fellow passengers; now for mine. +There came down with me Blepsias, the Pisatan usurer, Lampis, an +Acarnanian freelance, and the Corinthian millionaire Damis. The last +had been poisoned by his son, Lampis had cut his throat for love of the +courtesan Myrtium, and the wretched Blepsias is supposed to have died +of starvation; his awful pallor and extreme emaciation looked like it. +I inquired into the manner of their deaths, though I knew very well. +When Damis exclaimed upon his son, 'You only have your deserts,' I +remarked,—'an old man of ninety living in luxury yourself with your +million of money, and fobbing off your eighteen-year son with a few +pence! As for you, sir Acarnanian'—he was groaning and cursing +Myrtium—, 'why put the blame on Love? it belongs to yourself; you were +never afraid of an enemy—took all sorts of risks in other people's +service—and then let yourself be caught, my hero, by the artificial +tears and sighs of the first wench you came across.' Blepsias uttered +his own condemnation, without giving me time to do it for him: he had +hoarded his money for heirs who were nothing to him, and been fool +enough to reckon on immortality. I assure you it was no common +satisfaction I derived from their whinings. + +But here we are at the gate; we must keep our eyes open, and get the +earliest view. Lord, lord, what a mixed crowd! and all in tears except +these babes and sucklings. Why, the hoary seniors are all lamentation +too; strange! has madam Life given them a love-potion? I must +interrogate this most reverend senior of them all.—Sir, why weep, +seeing that you have died full of years? has your excellency any +complaint to make, after so long a term? Ah, but you were doubtless a +king. + +_Pauper_. Not so. + +_Diog_. A provincial governor, then? + +_Pauper_. No, nor that. + +_Diog_. I see; you were wealthy, and do not like leaving your boundless +luxury to die. + +_Pauper_. You are quite mistaken; I was near ninety, made a miserable +livelihood out of my line and rod, was excessively poor, childless, a +cripple, and had nearly lost my sight. + +_Diog_. And you still wished to live? + +_Pauper_. Ay, sweet is the light, and dread is death; would that one +might escape it! + +_Diog_. You are beside yourself, old man; you are like a child kicking +at the pricks, you contemporary of the ferryman. Well, we need wonder +no more at youth, when age is still in love with life; one would have +thought it should court death as the cure for its proper ills.—And now +let us go our way, before our loitering here brings suspicion on us: +they may think we are planning an escape. + +H. + +XXVIII + +_Menippus. Tiresias_ + +_Me_. Whether you are blind or not, Tiresias, would be a difficult +question. Eyeless sockets are the rule among us; there is no telling +Phineus from Lynceus nowadays. However, I know that you were a seer, +and that you enjoy the unique distinction of having been both man and +woman; I have it from the poets. Pray tell me which you found the more +pleasant life, the man's or the woman's? + +_Ti_. The woman's, by a long way; it was much less trouble. Women have +the mastery of men; and there is no fighting for them, no manning of +walls, no squabbling in the assembly, no cross-examination in the +law-courts. + +_Me_. Well, but you have heard how Medea, in Euripides, compassionates +her sex on their hard lot—on the intolerable pangs they endure in +travail? And by the way—Medea's words remind me did you ever have a +child, when you were a woman, or were you barren? + +_Ti_. What do you mean by that question, Menippus? + +_Me_. Oh, nothing; but I should like to know, if it is no trouble to +you. + +_Ti_. I was not barren: but I did not have a child, exactly. + +_Me_. No; but you might have had. That's all I wanted to know. + +_Ti_. Certainly. + +_Me_. And your feminine characteristics gradually vanished, and you +developed a beard, and became a man? Or did the change take place in a +moment? + +_Ti_. Whither does your question tend? One would think you doubted the +fact. + +_Me_. And what should I do but doubt such a story? Am I to take it in, +like a nincompoop, without asking myself whether it is possible or not? + +_Ti_. At that rate, I suppose you are equally incredulous when you hear +of women being turned into birds or trees or beasts,—Aedon for +instance, or Daphne, or Callisto? + +_Me_. If I fall in with any of these ladies, I will see what they have +to say about it. But to return, friend, to your own case: were you a +prophet even in the days of your femininity? or did manhood and +prophecy come together? + +_Ti_. Pooh, you know nothing of the matter. I once settled a dispute +among the Gods, and was blinded by Hera for my pains; whereupon Zeus +consoled me with the gift of prophecy. + +_Me_. Ah, you love a lie still, Tiresias. But there, 'tis your trade. +You prophets! There is no truth in you. + +F. + +XXIX + +_Agamemnon. Ajax_ + +_Ag_. If you went mad and wrought your own destruction, Ajax, in +default of that you designed for us all, why put the blame on Odysseus? +Why would you not vouchsafe him a look or a word, when he came to +consult Tiresias that day? you stalked past your old comrade in arms as +if he was beneath your notice. + +_Aj_. Had I not good reason? My madness lies at the door of my solitary +rival for the arms. + +_Ag_. Did you expect to be unopposed, and carry it over us all without +a contest? + +_Aj_. Surely, in such a matter. The armour was mine by natural right, +seeing I was Achilles's cousin. The rest of you, his undoubted +superiors, refused to compete, recognizing my claim. It was the son of +Laertes, he that I had rescued scores of times when he would have been +cut to pieces by the Phrygians, who set up for a better man and a +stronger claimant than I. + +_Ag_. Blame Thetis, then, my good sir; it was she who, instead of +delivering the inheritance to the next of kin, brought the arms and +left the ownership an open question. + +_Aj_. No, no; the guilt was in claiming them—alone, I mean. + +_Ag_. Surely, Ajax, a mere man may be forgiven the sin of coveting +honour—that sweetest bait for which each one of us adventured; nay, and +he outdid you there, if a Trojan verdict counts. + +_Aj_. Who inspired that verdict [Footnote: Athene is meant. The +allusion is to Homer, _Od. xi. 547_, a passage upon the contest for the +arms of Achilles, in which Odysseus states that 'The judges were the +sons of the Trojans, and Pallas Athene.']? I know, but about the Gods +we may not speak. Let that pass; but cease to hate Odysseus? 'tis not +in my power, Agamemnon, though Athene's self should require it of me. + +H. + +XXX + +_Minos. Sostratus_ + +_Mi_. Sostratus, the pirate here, can be dropped into Pyriphlegethon, +Hermes; the temple-robber shall be clawed by the Chimera; and lay out +the tyrant alongside of Tityus, there to have his liver torn by the +vultures. And you honest fellows can make the best of your way to +Elysium and the Isles of the Blest; this it is to lead righteous lives. + +_Sos_. A word with you, Minos. See if there is not some justice in my +plea. + +_Mi_. What, more pleadings? Have you not been convicted of villany and +murder without end? + +_Sos_. I have. Yet consider whether my sentence is just. + +_Mi_. Is it just that you should have your deserts? If so, the sentence +is just. + +_Sos_. Well, answer my questions; I will not detain you long. + +_Mi_. Say on, but be brief; I have other cases waiting for me. + +_Sos_. The deeds of my life—were they in my own choice, or were they +decreed by Fate? + +_Mi_. Decreed, of course. + +_Sos_. Then all of us, whether we passed for honest men or rogues, were +the instruments of Fate in all that we did? + +_Mi_. Certainly; Clotho prescribes the conduct of every man at his +birth. + +_Sos_. Now suppose a man commits a murder under compulsion of a power +which he cannot resist, an executioner, for instance, at the bidding of +a judge, or a bodyguard at that of a tyrant. Who is the murderer, +according to you? + +_Mi_. The judge, of course, or the tyrant. As well ask whether the +sword is guilty, which is but the tool of his anger who is prime mover +in the affair. + +_Sos_. I am indebted to you for a further illustration of my argument. +Again: a slave, sent by his master, brings me gold or silver; to whom +am I to be grateful? who goes down on my tablets as a benefactor? + +_Mi_. The sender; the bringer is but his minister. + +_Sos_. Observe then your injustice! You punish us who are but the +slaves of Clotho's bidding, and reward these, who do but minister to +another's beneficence. For it will never be said that it was in our +power to gainsay the irresistible ordinances of Fate? + +_Mi_. Ah, Sostratus; look closely enough, and you will find plenty of +inconsistencies besides these. However, I see you are no common pirate, +but a philosopher in your way; so much you have gained by your +questions. Let him go, Hermes; he shall not be punished after that. But +mind, Sostratus, you must not put it into other people's heads to ask +questions of this kind. + +F. + + + +MENIPPUS + +A NECROMANTIC EXPERIMENT + +_Menippus. Philonides_ + +_Me_. All hail, my roof, my doors, my hearth and home! How sweet again +to see the light and thee! + +_Phi_. Menippus the cynic, surely; even so, or there are visions about. +Menippus, every inch of him. What has he been getting himself up like +that for? sailor's cap, lyre, and lion-skin? However, here goes.—How +are you, Menippus? where do _you_ spring from? You have disappeared +this long time. + +_Me_. Death's lurking-place I leave, and those dark gates Where Hades +dwells, a God apart from Gods. + +_Phi_. Good gracious! has Menippus died, all on the quiet, and come to +life for a second spell? + +_Me_. Not so; a _living_ guest in Hades I. + +_Phi_. But what induced you to take this queer original journey? + +_Me_. Youth drew me on—too bold, too little wise. + +_Phi_. My good man, truce to your heroics; get off those iambic stilts, +and tell me in plain prose what this get-up means; what did you want +with the lower regions? It is a journey that needs a motive to make it +attractive. + +_Me_. Dear friend, to Hades' realms I needs must go, To counsel with +Tiresias of Thebes. + +_Phi_. Man, you must be mad; or why string verses instead of talking +like one friend with another? + +_Me_. My dear fellow, you need not be so surprised. I have just been in +Euripides's and Homer's company; I suppose I am full to the throat with +verse, and the numbers come as soon as I open my mouth. But how are +things going up here? what is Athens about? + +_Phi_. Oh, nothing new; extortion, perjury, forty per cent, +face-grinding. + +_Me_. Poor misguided fools! they are not posted up in the latest +lower-world legislation; the recent decrees against the rich will be +too much for all their evasive ingenuity. + +_Phi_. Do you mean to say the lower world has been making new +regulations for us? + +_Me_. Plenty of them, I assure you. But I may not publish them, nor +reveal secrets; the result might be a suit for impiety in the court of +Rhadamanthus. + +_Phi_. Oh now, Menippus, in Heaven's name, no secrets between friends! +you know I am no blabber; and I am initiated, if you come to that. + +_Me_. 'Tis a hard thing you ask, and a perilous; yet for you I must +venture it. It was resolved, then, that these rich who roll in money +and keep their gold under lock and key like a Danae—- + +_Phi_. Oh, don't come to the decrees yet; begin at the beginning. I am +particularly curious about your object in going, who showed you the +way, and the whole story of what you saw and heard down there; you are +a man of taste, and sure not to have missed anything worth looking at +or listening to. + +_Me_. I can refuse you nothing, you see; what is one to do, when a +friend insists? Well, I will show you first the state of mind which put +me on the venture. When I was a boy, and listened to Homer's and +Hesiod's tales of war and civil strife—and they do not confine +themselves to the Heroes, but include the Gods in their descriptions, +adulterous Gods, rapacious Gods, violent, litigious, usurping, +incestuous Gods—, well, I found it all quite proper, and indeed was +intensely interested in it. But as I came to man's estate, I observed +that the laws flatly contradicted the poets, forbidding adultery, +sedition, and rapacity. So I was in a very hazy state of mind, and +could not tell what to make of it. The Gods would surely never have +been guilty of such behaviour if they had not considered it good; and +yet law-givers would never have recommended avoiding it, if avoidance +had not seemed desirable. + +In this perplexity, I determined to go to the people they call +philosophers, put myself in their hands, and ask them to make what they +would of me and give me a plain reliable map of life. This was my idea +in going to them; but the effort only shifted me from the frying-pan +into the fire; it was just among these that my inquiry brought the +greatest ignorance and bewilderment to light; they very soon convinced +me that the real golden life is that of the man in the street. One of +them would have me do nothing but seek pleasure and ensue it; according +to him, Happiness was pleasure. Another recommended the exact +contrary—toil and moil, bring the body under, be filthy and squalid, +disgusting and abusive—concluding always with the tags from Hesiod +about Virtue, or something about indefatigable pursuit of the ideal. +Another bade me despise money, and reckon the acquisition of it as a +thing indifferent; he too had his contrary, who declared wealth a good +in itself. I will spare you their metaphysics; I was sickened with +daily doses of Ideas, Incorporeal Things, Atoms, Vacua, and a multitude +more. The extraordinary thing was that people maintaining the most +opposite views would each of them produce convincing plausible +arguments; when the same thing was called hot and cold by different +persons, there was no refuting one more than the other, however well +one knew that it could not be hot and cold at once. I was just like a +man dropping off to sleep, with his head first nodding forward, and +then jerking back. + +Yet that absurdity is surpassed by another. I found by observation that +the practice of these same people was diametrically opposed to their +precepts. Those who preached contempt of wealth would hold on to it +like grim death, dispute about interest, teach for pay, and sacrifice +everything to the main chance, while the depreciators of fame directed +all their words and deeds to nothing else but fame; pleasure, which had +all their private devotions, they were almost unanimous in condemning. + +Thus again disappointed of my hope, I was in yet worse case than +before; it was slight consolation to reflect that I was in numerous and +wise and eminently sensible company, if I was a fool still, all astray +in my quest of Truth. One night, while these thoughts kept me +sleepless, I resolved to go to Babylon and ask help from one of the +Magi, Zoroaster's disciples and successors; I had been told that by +incantations and other rites they could open the gates of Hades, take +down any one they chose in safety, and bring him up again. I thought +the best thing would be to secure the services of one of these, visit +Tiresias the Boeotian, and learn from that wise seer what is the best +life and the right choice for a man of sense. I got up with all speed +and started straight for Babylon. When I arrived, I found a wise and +wonderful Chaldean; he was white-haired, with a long imposing beard, +and called Mithrobarzanes. My prayers and supplications at last induced +him to name a price for conducting me down. + +Taking me under his charge, he commenced with a new moon, and brought +me down for twenty-nine successive mornings to the Euphrates, where he +bathed me, apostrophizing the rising sun in a long formula, of which I +never caught much; he gabbled indistinctly, like bad heralds at the +Games; but he appeared to be invoking spirits. This charm completed, he +spat thrice upon my face, and I went home, not letting my eyes meet +those of any one we passed. Our food was nuts and acorns, our drink +milk and hydromel and water from the Choaspes, and we slept out of +doors on the grass. When he thought me sufficiently prepared, he took +me at midnight to the Tigris, purified and rubbed me over, sanctified +me with torches and squills and other things, muttering the charm +aforesaid, then made a magic circle round me to protect me from ghosts, +and finally led me home backwards just as I was; it was now time to +arrange our voyage. + +He himself put on a magic robe, Median in character, and fetched and +gave me the cap, lion's skin, and lyre which you see, telling me if I +were asked my name not to say Menippus, but Heracles, Odysseus, or +Orpheus. + +_Phi_. What was that for? I see no reason either for the get-up or for +the choice of names. + +_Me_. Oh, obvious enough; there is no mystery in that. He thought that +as these three had gone down alive to Hades before us, I might easily +elude Aeacus's guard by borrowing their appearance, and be passed as an +_habitue_; there is good warrant in the theatre for the efficiency of +disguise. + +Dawn was approaching when we went down to the river to embark; he had +provided a boat, victims, hydromel, and all necessaries for our mystic +enterprise. We put all aboard, and then, + +Troubled at heart, with welling tears, we went. + + +For some distance we floated down stream, until we entered the marshy +lake in which the Euphrates disappears. Beyond this we came to a +desolate, wooded, sunless spot; there we landed, Mithrobarzanes leading +the way, and proceeded to dig a pit, slay our sheep, and sprinkle their +blood round the edge. Meanwhile the Mage, with a lighted torch in his +hand, abandoning his customary whisper, shouted at the top of his voice +an invocation to all spirits, particularly the Poenae and Erinyes, + +Hecat's dark might, and dread Persephone, + + +with a string of other names, outlandish, unintelligible, and +polysyllabic. + +As he ended, there was a great commotion, earth was burst open by the +incantation, the barking of Cerberus was heard far off, and all was +overcast and lowering; + +Quaked in his dark abyss the King of Shades; + + +for almost all was now unveiled to us, the lake, and Phlegethon, and +the abode of Pluto. Undeterred, we made our way down the chasm, and +came upon Rhadamanthus half dead with fear. Cerberus barked and looked +like getting up; but I quickly touched my lyre, and the first note +sufficed to lull him. Reaching the lake, we nearly missed our passage +for that time, the ferry-boat being already full; there was incessant +lamentation, and all the passengers had wounds upon them; mangled legs, +mangled heads, mangled everything; no doubt there was a war going on. +Nevertheless, when good Charon saw the lion's skin, taking me for +Heracles, he made room, was delighted to give me a passage, and showed +us our direction when we got off. + +We were now in darkness; so Mithrobarzanes led the way, and I followed +holding on to him, until we reached a great meadow of asphodel, where +the shades of the dead, with their thin voices, came flitting round us. +Working gradually on, we reached the court of Minos; he was sitting on +a high throne, with the Poenae, Avengers, and Erinyes standing at the +sides. From another direction was being brought a long row of persons +chained together; I heard that they were adulterers, procurers, +publicans, sycophants, informers, and all the filth that pollutes the +stream of life. Separate from them came the rich and usurers, pale, +pot-bellied, and gouty, each with a hundredweight of spiked collar upon +him. There we stood looking at the proceedings and listening to the +pleas they put in; their accusers were orators of a strange and novel +species. + +_Phi_. Who, in God's name? shrink not; let me know all. + +_Me_. It has not escaped your observation that the sun projects certain +shadows of our bodies on the ground. + +_Phi_. How should it have? + +_Me_. These, when we die, are the prosecutors and witnesses who bring +home to us our conduct on earth; their constant attendance and absolute +attachment to our persons secures them high credit in the witness-box. + +Well, Minos carefully examined each prisoner, and sent him off to the +place of the wicked to receive punishment proportionate to his +transgressions. He was especially severe upon those who, puffed up with +wealth and authority, were expecting an almost reverential treatment; +he could not away with their ephemeral presumption and +superciliousness, their failure to realize the mortality of themselves +and their fortunes. Stripped of all that made them glorious, of wealth +and birth and power, there they stood naked and downcast, +reconstructing their worldly blessedness in their minds like a dream +that is gone; the spectacle was meat and drink to me; any that I knew +by sight I would come quietly up to, and remind him of his state up +here; what a spirit had his been, when morning crowds lined his hall, +expectant of his coming, being jostled or thrust out by lacqueys! at +last my lord Sun would dawn upon them, in purple or gold or rainbow +hues, not unconscious of the bliss he shed upon those who approached, +if he let them kiss his breast or his hand. These reminders seemed to +annoy them. + +Minos, however, did allow his decision to be influenced in one case. +Dionysius of Syracuse was accused by Dion of many unholy deeds, and +damning evidence was produced by his shadow; he was on the point of +being chained to the Chimera, when Aristippus of Cyrene, whose name and +influence are great below, got him off on the ground of his constant +generosity as a patron of literature. + +We left the court at last, and came to the place of punishment. Many a +piteous sight and sound was there—cracking of whips, shrieks of the +burning, rack and gibbet and wheel; Chimera tearing, Cerberus +devouring; all tortured together, kings and slaves, governors and +paupers, rich and beggars, and all repenting their sins. A few of them, +the lately dead, we recognized. These would turn away and shrink from +observation; or if they met our eyes, it would be with a slavish +cringing glance—how different from the arrogance and contempt that had +marked them in life! The poor were allowed half-time in their tortures, +respite and punishment alternating. Those with whom legend is so busy I +saw with my eyes—Ixion, Sisyphus, the Phrygian Tantalus in all his +misery, and the giant Tityus—how vast, his bulk covering a whole field! + +Leaving these, we entered the Acherusian plain, and there found the +demi-gods, men and women both, and the common dead, dwelling in their +nations and tribes, some of them ancient and mouldering, 'strengthless +heads,' as Homer has it, others fresh, with substance yet in them, +Egyptians chiefly, these—so long last their embalming drugs. But to +know one from another was no easy task; all are so like when the bones +are bared; yet with pains and long scrutiny we could make them out. +They lay pell-mell in undistinguished heaps, with none of their earthly +beauties left. With all those anatomies piled together as like as could +be, eyes glaring ghastly and vacant, teeth gleaming bare, I knew not +how to tell Thersites from Nireus the beauty, beggar Irus from the +Phaeacian king, or cook Pyrrhias from Agamemnon's self. Their ancient +marks were gone, and their bones alike—uncertain, unlabelled, +indistinguishable. + +When I saw all this, the life of man came before me under the likeness +of a great pageant, arranged and marshalled by Chance, who distributed +infinitely varied costumes to the performers. She would take one and +array him like a king, with tiara, bodyguard, and crown complete; +another she dressed like a slave; one was adorned with beauty, another +got up as a ridiculous hunchback; there must be all kinds in the show. +Often before the procession was over she made individuals exchange +characters; they could not be allowed to keep the same to the end; +Croesus must double parts and appear as slave and captive; Maeandrius, +starting as slave, would take over Polycrates's despotism, and be +allowed to keep his new clothes for a little while. And when the +procession is done, every one disrobes, gives up his character with his +body, and appears, as he originally was, just like his neighbour. Some, +when Chance comes round collecting the properties, are silly enough to +sulk and protest, as though they were being robbed of their own instead +of only returning loans. You know the kind of thing on the stage—tragic +actors shifting as the play requires from Creon to Priam, from Priam to +Agamemnon; the same man, very likely, whom you saw just now in all the +majesty of Cecrops or Erechtheus, treads the boards next as a slave, +because the author tells him to. The play over, each of them throws off +his gold-spangled robe and his mask, descends from the buskin's height, +and moves a mean ordinary creature; his name is not now Agamemnon son +of Atreus or Creon son of Menoeceus, but Polus son of Charicles of +Sunium or Satyrus son of Theogiton of Marathon. Such is the condition +of mankind, or so that sight presented it to me. + +_Phi_. Now, if a man occupies a costly towering sepulchre, or leaves +monuments, statues, inscriptions behind him on earth, does not this +place him in a class above the common dead? + +_Me_. Nonsense, my good man; if you had looked on Mausolus himself—the +Carian so famous for his tomb—, I assure you, you would never have +stopped laughing; he was a miserable unconsidered unit among the +general mass of the dead, flung aside in a dusty hole, with no profit +of his sepulchre but its extra weight upon him. No, friend, when Aeacus +gives a man his allowance of space—and it never exceeds a foot's +breadth—, he must be content to pack himself into its limits. You might +have laughed still more if you had beheld the kings and governors of +earth begging in Hades, selling salt fish for a living, it might be, or +giving elementary lessons, insulted by any one who met them, and cuffed +like the most worthless of slaves. When I saw Philip of Macedon, I +could not contain myself; some one showed him to me cobbling old shoes +for money in a corner. Many others were to be seen begging—people like +Xerxes, Darius, or Polycrates. + +_Phi_. These royal downfalls are extraordinary almost—incredible. But +what of Socrates, Diogenes, and such wise men? + +_Me_. Socrates still goes about proving everybody wrong, the same as +ever; Palamedes, Odysseus, Nestor, and a few other conversational +shades, keep him company. His legs, by the way, were still puffy and +swollen from the poison. Good Diogenes pitches close to Sardanapalus, +Midas, and other specimens of magnificence. The sound of their +lamentations and better-day memories keeps him in laughter and spirits; +he is generally stretched on his back roaring out a noisy song which +drowns lamentation; it annoys them, and they are looking out for a new +pitch where he may not molest them. + +_Phi_. I am satisfied. And now for that decree which you told me had +been passed against the rich. + +_Me_. Well remembered; that was what I meant to tell you about, but I +have somehow got far astray. Well, during my stay the presiding +officers gave notice of an assembly on matters of general interest. So, +when I saw every one flocking to it, I mingled with the shades and +constituted myself a member. Various measures were decided upon, and +last came this question of the rich. Many grave accusations were +preferred against them, including violence, ostentation, pride, +injustice; and at last a popular speaker rose and moved this decree. + +DECREE + +'Whereas the rich are guilty of many illegalities on earth, harrying +and oppressing the poor and trampling upon all their rights, it is the +pleasure of the Senate and People that after death they shall be +punished in their bodies like other malefactors, but their souls shall +be sent on earth to inhabit asses, until they have passed in that shape +a quarter-million of years, generation after generation, bearing +burdens under the tender mercies of the poor; after which they shall be +permitted to die. Mover of this decree—Cranion son of Skeletion of the +deme Necysia in the Alibantid [Footnote: The four names are formed from +words meaning skull, skeleton, corpse, anatomy.] tribe.' The decree +read, a formal vote was taken, in which the people accepted it. A snort +from Brimo and a bark from Cerberus completed the proceedings according +to the regular form. + +So went the assembly. And now, in pursuance of my original design, I +went to Tiresias, explained my case fully, and implored him to give me +his views upon the best life. He is a blind little old man, pale and +weak-voiced. He smiled and said:—'My son, the cause of your perplexity, +I know, is the fact that doctors differ; but I may not enlighten you; +Rhadamanthus forbids.' 'Ah, say not so, father,' I exclaimed; 'speak +out, and leave me not to wander through life in a blindness worse than +yours.' So he drew me apart to a considerable distance, and whispered +in my ear:—'The life of the ordinary man is the best and most prudent +choice; cease from the folly of metaphysical speculation and inquiry +into origins and ends, utterly reject their clever logic, count all +these things idle talk, and pursue one end alone—how you may do what +your hand finds to do, and go your way with ever a smile and never a +passion.' + +So he, and sought the lawn of asphodel. + + +It was now late, and I told Mithrobarzanes that our work was done, and +we might reascend. 'Very well, Menippus,' said he, 'I will show you an +easy short cut.' And taking me to a place where the darkness was +especially thick, he pointed to a dim and distant ray of light—a mere +pencil admitted through a chink. 'There,' he said, 'is the shrine of +Trophonius, from which the Boeotian inquirers start; go up that way, +and you will be on Grecian soil without more ado.' I was delighted, +took my leave of the Mage, crawled with considerable difficulty through +the aperture, and found myself, sure enough, at Lebadea. + +H. + + + +CHARON + +_Hermes. Charon_ + +_Her_. So gay, Charon? What makes you leave your ferry to come up here? +You are quite a stranger in the upper world. + +_Ch_. I thought I should like to see what life is like; what men do +with it, and what are these blessings of which they all lament the loss +when they come down to us. Never one of them has made the passage +dry-eyed. So I got leave from Pluto to take a day off, like that +Thessalian lad [Footnote: See Protesilaus in Notes.], you know; and +here I am, in the light of day. I am in luck, it seems, to fall in with +you. You will show me round, of course, and point out all that is to be +seen, as you know all about it. + +_Her_. I have no time, good ferryman. I am bound on certain errands of +the Upper Zeus, certain human matters. He is short-tempered: any +loitering on my part, and he may hand me over to you Powers of Darkness +for good and all; or treat me as he did Hephaestus the other day—hurl +me down headlong from the threshold of Heaven; there would be a pair of +lame cupbearers then, to amuse the gods. + +_Ch_. And you would leave an old messmate wandering at large on the +face of the earth? Think of the cruises we have sailed together, the +cargoes you and I have handled! You might remember one thing, son of +Maia; I have never set you down to bale or row. You lie sprawling about +the deck, you great strong lubber, snoring away, or chatting the whole +trip through with any communicative shade you can find; and the old man +plies both oars at once. Come, stand by me, like a true son of Zeus as +you are, and show me all the ins and outs, there's a dear lad. I want +to see something of life before I go back, and if you leave me in the +lurch, I shall be no better off than a blind man: _he_ comes to grief +because he is always in the dark, and, contrariwise, _I_ can make +nothing of it in the light. Do me this good turn, and I'll not forget +it. + +_Her_. Clearly this is to be a flogging matter for me. There will go +some shrewd knocks to the settlement of this reckoning. However, I must +give you a helping hand. What is one to do, when a friend is so +pressing? Now, as to going over everything thoroughly, it is out of the +question; it would take us years. Meanwhile, I should have the +hue-and-cry out after me, you would be neglecting your ghostly work, +Pluto would lose the shades that you ought to be shipping over all that +time, and Aeacus would never take a single toll, and would be +proportionately furious. We have only to think, therefore, of +contriving you a general view of what is going on. + +_Ch_. You must do the best you can for me. I know nothing of the +matter, being a stranger up here. + +_Her_. The main thing is to get an elevation from which you may see in +every direction. If you could come up to Heaven, we should be saved any +further trouble; you would then have a good bird's-eye view of +everything. But it would be sacrilege for one so conversant with +phantoms to set foot in the courts of Zeus. Let us lose no time, +therefore, in looking out a good high mountain. + +_Ch_. You know what I sometimes say to you on the ship, Hermes.—If a +sudden gust strikes the sail from a new quarter, and the waves are +rising high, you landsmen know not what to make of it; you are for +taking in sail, or slackening the sheet, or letting her go before the +wind, and then I tell you not to trouble your heads, for _I_ know what +to do. Well, now it is your turn; you are sailing this ship; do as you +think best, and I'll sit quiet, as a passenger should, and obey orders. + +_Her_. Just so; leave it to me, and I will find a good look-out. How +would Caucasus do? Or is Parnassus higher? Olympus, perhaps, is higher +than either of them. Olympus! stay, that reminds me; I have a happy +thought. But there is work for two here; I shall want your assistance. + +_Ch_. Give your orders, I'll bear a hand, to the best of my ability. + +_Her_. Homer tells us how the sons of Aloeus [Footnote: See _Olus_ in +Notes.] (they were but two, like ourselves) took it into their heads, +when they were yet children, to drag up Ossa from its foundations, and +plant it on the top of Olympus, and then Pelion on the top of all; they +thought that would serve as a ladder for getting into heaven. The two +boys were rightly punished for their presumption. But _we_ have no +design against the Gods: why should not we take the hint, and make an +erection of mountains piled one on the top of another? From such a +height we should get a better view. + +_Ch_. What, shall we two be able to lift Pelion or Ossa? + +_Her_. Why not? We are gods; I should hope we are as good as those two +infants. + +_Ch_. Yes; but I should never have thought we could do such a job as +that. + +_Her_. Ah, my dear Charon, you don't understand these things; you have +no imagination. To the lofty spirit of Homer this is simplicity itself. +Just a couple of lines, and the mountains are in place;—we have only to +walk up. I wonder you make such a marvel of this. You know Atlas, of +course? He holds up the entire heaven by himself, Gods and all. And I +dare say you have heard how my brother Heracles relieved him once, and +took the burden on his own shoulders for a time? + +_Ch_. Yes, I have heard it. But you and the poets best know whether it +is true. + +_Her_. Oh, perfectly true. What should induce wise men to lie?—Come, +let us get to work on Ossa first; for so the masterbuilder directs: + + Ossa first; + On Ossa leafy Pelion. + + +There! What think you of this? Is it suave work? is it poetry? I must +run up, and see whether we shall want another storey. Oh dear, we are +no way up as yet. On the East, it is all I can do to make out Ionia and +Lydia; on the West is nothing but Italy and Sicily; on the North, +nothing to be seen beyond the Danube; and on the South, Crete, none too +clear. It looks to me as if we should want Oeta, my nautical friend; +and Parnassus into the bargain. + +_Ch_. So be it; but take care not to make the height too great for the +width; or down we shall come, ladder and all, and pay our footing in +the Homeric school of architecture with a cracked crown apiece. + +_Her_. No fear; all will be safe enough. Pass Oeta along. Now trundle +Parnassus up. There; I'll go up again…. That's better! A fine view. You +can come now. + +_Ch_. Give me a hand up, Hermes. This _is_ an erection, and no mistake! + +_Her_. Well, you know, you would see everything. Safety is one thing, +my friend, and sight-seeing is another. Here is my hand; hang on, and +keep clear of the slippery bits. There, now _you_ are up. Let us sit +down; here are two peaks, one for each of us. Now take a general look +round at the prospect. + +_Ch_. I see a vast stretch of land, and a huge lake surrounding it, and +mountains, and rivers bigger than Cocytus and Pyriphlegethon; and men, +tiny little things! and I suppose their dens. + +_Her. Dens_? Those are cities! + +_Ch_. I tell you what it is, Hermes; all this is no use. Here have we +been shifting about Parnassus (Castalia and all complete), and Oeta, +and these others, and we might have spared ourselves the trouble! + +_Her_. How so? + +_Ch_. Why, I can make nothing out up here. These cities and mountains +look for all the world like a map. It is _men_ that I am after; I want +to see what they do, and hear what they say. That is what I was +laughing about just now, when first you met me, and asked me what the +joke was. I had heard something that tickled me hugely. + +_Her_. And what might that be? + +_Ch_. One of them had been asked by a friend to dinner, I think it was, +the next day. 'Depend on it,' says he, 'I'll be with you.' And before +the words were out of his mouth, down came a tile—started somehow from +the roof—and he was a dead man! Ha, ha, thought I, _that_ promise will +never be kept. So I think I shall go down again; I want to see and +hear. + +_Her_. Sit where you are. I will soon put that right; you shall see +with the best; Homer has a charm for this too. Now, the moment I say +the lines, there must be no more dull eyes; all must be clear as +daylight. Don't forget! + +_Ch_. Say on. + +_Her_. + + See, from before thine eyes I lift the veil; + So shalt thou clearly know both God and man. + + +Well? Are the eyes any better? + +_Ch_. A marvellous improvement! Lynceus is blind to me. Now, the next +thing I want is information. I have some questions to ask. Will you +have them couched in the Homeric style, to convince you that I am not +wholly unversed in his poems? + +_Her_. And how should you know anything of Homer? A seaman, chained to +the oar! + +_Ch_. Come, come; no abuse of my profession. The fact is, when he died, +and I ferried him over, I heard a good many of his ballads, and a few +of them still run in my head. There was a pretty stiff gale on at the +time, too. You see, he began singing a song about Posidon, which boded +no good to us mariners,—how Posidon gathered the clouds, and stirred +the depths with his trident, as with a ladle, and roused the whirlwind, +and a good deal more (enough to raise a storm of itself),—when suddenly +there came a black squall which nearly capsized the boat. The poet was +extremely ill, and disgorged such an avalanche of minstrelsy (Scylla, +Charybdis, the Cyclops, all came up bodily), that I had no difficulty +in preserving a few snatches. I should like to know, for instance, + + Who is yon hero, stout and strong and tall, + O'ertopping all mankind by head and shoulders? + + +_Her_. That is Milo of Croton, the athlete. He has just picked up a +bull, and is carrying it along the race-course; and the Greeks are +applauding him. + +_Ch_. It would be more to the point, if they were to offer their +congratulations to _me_. I shall presently be picking up Milo himself, +and putting him into my boat; that will be after he has had his fall +from Death, that most invincible of antagonists, who will have him on +his back before he knows what is happening. We shall hear a sad tale +then, no doubt, of the crowns and the applause he has left behind him. +Meanwhile, he is mightily elated over the bull exploit, and the +distinction it has won him. What is one to think? Does it ever occur to +him that he must _die_ some day? + +_Her_. How should he think of death? He is at his zenith. + +_Ch_. Well, never mind him. We shall have sport enough with him before +long; he will come aboard with no strength left to pick up a gnat, let +alone a bull. But pray, + + Who is yon haughty hero? + No Greek, to judge by his dress. + + +_Her_. That is Cyrus, son of Cambyses, who transferred to the Persians +the ancient empire of the Medes. He has lately conquered Assyria, and +reduced Babylon; and now it looks as if he meditated an invasion of +Lydia, to complete his dominion by the overthrow of Croesus. + +_Ch_. And whereabouts is Croesus? + +_Her_. Look over there. You see the great city with the triple wall? +That is Sardis. And there, look, is Croesus himself, reclining on a +golden couch, and conversing with Solon the Athenian. Shall we listen +to what they are saying? + +_Ch_. Yes, let us. + +_Cr. Stranger, you have now seen my stores of treasure, my heaps of +bullion, and all my riches. Tell me therefore, whom do you account the +happiest of mankind_? + +_Ch_. What will Solon say, I wonder? + +_Her_. Trust Solon; he will not disgrace himself. + +_So_. _Croesus, few men are happy. Of those whom I know, the happiest, +I think, were Cleobis and Biton, the sons of the Argive priestess_. + +_Ch_. Ah, he means those two who yoked themselves to a waggon, and drew +their mother to the temple, and died the moment after. It was but the +other day. + +_Cr_. _Ah. So they are first on the list. And who comes next_? + +_So_. _Tellus the Athenian, who lived a righteous life, and died for +his country_. + +_Cr_. _And where do I come, reptile_? + +_So_. _That I am unable to say at present, Croesus; I must see you end +your days first. Death is the sure test;—a happy end to a life of +happiness_. + +_Ch_. Bravo, Solon; _you_ have not forgotten us! As you say, Charon's +ferry is the proper place for the decision of these questions.—But who +are these men whom Croesus is sending out? And what have they got on +their shoulders? + +_Her_. Those are bars of gold; they are going to Delphi, to pay for an +oracle, which oracle will presently be the ruin of Croesus. But oracles +are a hobby of his. + +_Ch_. Oh, so that is _gold_, that glittering yellow stuff, with just a +tinge of red in it. I have often heard of gold, but never saw it +before. + +_Her_. Yes, that is the stuff there is so much talking and squabbling +about. + +_Ch_. Well now, I see no advantages about it, unless it is an advantage +that it is heavy to carry. + +_Her_. Ah, you do not know what it has to answer for; the wars and +plots and robberies, the perjuries and murders; for this men will +endure slavery and imprisonment; for this they traffic and sail the +seas. + +_Ch_. For this stuff? Why, it is not much different from copper. I know +copper, of course, because I get a penny from each passenger. + +_Her_. Yes, but copper is plentiful, and therefore not much esteemed by +men. Gold is found only in small quantities, and the miners have to go +to a considerable depth for it. For the rest, it comes out of the +earth, just the same as lead and other metals. + +_Ch_. What fools men must be, to be enamoured of an object of this +sallow complexion; and of such a weight! + +_Her_. Well, Solon, at any rate, seems to have no great affection for +it. See, he is making merry with Croesus and his outlandish +magnificence. I think he is going to ask him a question. Listen. + +_So_. _Croesus, will those bars be any use to Apollo, do you think?_ + +_Cr_. _Any use! Why there is nothing at Delphi to be compared to them._ + +_So_. _And that is all that is wanting to complete his happiness, +eh?—some bar gold?_ + +_Cr_. _Undoubtedly._ + +_So_. _Then they must be very hard up in Heaven, if they have to send +all the way to Lydia for their gold supply?_ + +_Cr_. _Where else is gold to be had in such abundance as with us?_ + +_So_. _Now is any iron found in Lydia?_ + +_Cr_. _Not much._ + +_So_. _Ah; so you are lacking in the more valuable metal._ + +_Cr_. _More valuable? Iron more valuable than gold?_ + +_So_. _Bear with me, while I ask you a few questions, and I will +convince you it is so._ + +_Cr_. _Well?_ + +_So_. _Of protector and protege, which is the better man?_ + +_Cr_. _The protector, of course._ + +_So_. _Now in the event of Cyrus's invading Lydia—there is some talk of +it—shall you supply your men with golden swords? or will iron be +required, on the occasion?_ + +_Cr_. _Oh, iron._ + +_So_. _Iron accordingly you must have, or your gold would be led +captive into Persia?_ + +_Cr_. _Blasphemer!_ + +_So_. _Oh, we will hope for the best. But it is clear, on your own +admission, that iron is better than gold._ + +_Cr_. _And what would you have me do? Recall the gold, and offer the +God bars of iron?_ + +_So_. _He has no occasion for iron either. Your offering (be the metal +what it may) will fall into other hands than his. It will be snapped up +by the Phocians, or the Boeotians, or the God's own priests; or by some +tyrant or robber. Your goldsmiths have no interest for Apollo._ + +_Cr_. _You are always having a stab at my wealth. It is all envy!_ + +_Her_. This blunt sincerity is not to the Lydian's taste. Things are +come to a strange pass, he thinks, if a poor man is to hold up his +head, and speak his mind in this frank manner! He will remember Solon +presently, when the time comes for Cyrus to conduct him in chains to +the pyre. I heard Clotho, the other day, reading over the various +dooms. Among other things, Croesus was to be led captive by Cyrus, and +Cyrus to be murdered by the queen of the Massagetae. There she is: that +Scythian woman, riding on a white horse; do you see? + +_Ch_. Yes. + +_Her_. That is Tomyris. She will cut off Cyrus's head, and put it into +a wine-skin filled with blood. And do you see his son, the boy there? +That is Cambyses. He will succeed to his father's throne; and, after +innumerable defeats in Libya and Ethiopia, will finally slay the god +Apis, and die a raving madman. + +_Ch_. What fun! Why, at this moment no one would presume to meet their +eyes; from such a height do they look down on the rest of mankind. Who +would believe that before long one of them will be a captive, and the +other have his head in a bottle of blood?—But who is that in the purple +robe, Hermes?—the one with the diadem? His cook has just been cleaning +a fish, and is now handing him a ring,—"in yonder sea-girt isle"; +"'tis, sure, some king." + +_Her_.Ha, ha! A parody, this time.—That is Polycrates, tyrant of Samos. +He is extremely well pleased with his lot: yet that slave who now +stands at his side will betray him to the satrap Oroetes, and he will +be crucified. It will not take long to overturn _his_ prosperity, poor +man! This, too, I had from Clotho. + +_Ch_. I like Clotho; she is a lady of spirit. Have at them, madam! Off +with their heads! To the cross with them! Let them know that they are +men. And let them be exalted in the meantime; the higher they mount, +the heavier will be the fall. I shall have a merry time of it +hereafter, identifying their naked shades, as they come aboard; no more +purple robes then; no tiaras; no golden couches! + +_Her_. So much for royalty; and now to the common herd. Do you see +them, Charon;—on their ships and on the field of battle; crowding the +law-courts and following the plough; usurers here, beggars there? + +_Ch_. I see them. What a jostling life it is! What a world of ups and +downs! Their cities remind me of bee-hives. Every man keeps a sting for +his neighbour's service; and a few, like wasps, make spoil of their +weaker brethren. But what are all these misty shapes that beset them on +every side? + +_Her_. Hopes, Fears, Follies, Pleasures, Greeds, Hates, Grudges, and +such like. They differ in their habits. The Folly is a domestic +creature, with vested rights of its own. The same with the Grudge, the +Hate, the Envy, the Greed, the Know-not, and the What's-to-do. But the +Fear and the Hope fly overhead. The Fear swoops on its prey from above; +sometimes it is content with startling a man out of his wits, sometimes +it frightens him in real earnest. The Hope hovers almost within reach, +and just when a man thinks he is going to catch it, off it flies, and +leaves him gaping—like Tantalus in the water, you know. Now look +closely, and you will make out the Fates up aloft, spinning each man +his spindle-full; from that spindle a man hangs by a narrow thread. Do +you see what looks like a cobweb, coming down to each man from the +spindles? + +_Ch_. I see each has a very slight thread. They are mostly entangled, +one with another, and that other with a third. + +_Her_. Of course they are. Because the first man has got to be murdered +by the second, and he by the third; or again, B is to be A's heir (A's +thread being the shorter), and C is to be B's. That is what the +entangling means. But you see what thin threads they all have to depend +on. Now here is one drawn high up into the air; presently his thread +will snap, when the weight becomes too much for it, and down he will +come with a bang: whereas yonder fellow hangs so low that when he does +fall it makes no noise; his next-door neighbours will scarcely hear him +drop. + +_Ch_. How absurd it all is! + +_Her_. My dear Charon, there is no word for the absurdity of it. They +do take it all so seriously, that is the best of it; and then, long +before they have finished scheming, up comes good old Death, and whisks +them off, and all is over! You observe that he has a fine staff of +assistants at his command;—agues, consumptions, fevers, inflammations, +swords, robbers, hemlock, juries, tyrants,—not one of which gives them +a moment's concern so long as they are prosperous; but when they come +to grief, then it is Alack! and Well-a-day! and Oh dear me! If only +they would start with a clear understanding that they are mortal, that +after a brief sojourn on the earth they will wake from the dream of +life, and leave all behind them,—they would live more sensibly, and not +mind dying so much. As it is, they get it into their heads that what +they possess they possess for good and all; the consequence is, that +when Death's officer calls for them, and claps on a fever or a +consumption, they take it amiss; the parting is so wholly unexpected. +Yonder is a man building his house, urging the workmen to use all +dispatch. How would he take the news, that he was just to see the roof +on and all complete, when he would have to take his departure, and +leave all the enjoyment to his heir?—hard fate, not once to sup beneath +it! There again is one rejoicing over the birth of a son; the child is +to inherit his grandfather's name, and the father is celebrating the +occasion with his friends. He would not be so pleased, if he knew that +the boy was to die before he was eight years old! It is natural enough: +he sees before him some happy father of an Olympian victor, and has no +eyes for his neighbour there, who is burying a child; _that_ thin-spun +thread escapes his notice. Behold, too, the money-grubbers, whom the +aforesaid Death's-officers will never permit to be money-spenders; and +the noble army of litigant neighbours! + +_Ch_. Yes! I see it all; and I ask myself, what is the satisfaction in +life? What is it that men bewail the loss of? Take their kings; they +seem to be best off, though, as you say, they have their happiness on a +precarious tenure; but apart from that, we shall find their pleasures +to be outweighed by the vexations inseparable from their position—worry +and anxiety, flattery here, conspiracy there, enmity everywhere; to say +nothing of the tyranny of Sorrow, Disease, and Passion, with whom there +is confessedly no respect of persons. And if the king's lot is a hard +one, we may make a pretty shrewd guess at that of the commoner. Come +now, I will give you a similitude for the life of man. Have you ever +stood at the foot of a waterfall, and marked the bubbles rising to the +surface and gathering into foam? Some are quite small, and break as +soon as they are born. Others last longer; new ones come to join them, +and they swell up to a great size: yet in the end they burst, as surely +as the rest; it cannot be otherwise. There you have human life. All men +are bubbles, great or small, inflated with the breath of life. Some are +destined to last for a brief space, others perish in the very moment of +birth: but all must inevitably burst. + +_Her_. Homer compares mankind to leaves. Your simile is full as good as +his. + +_Ch_. And being the things they are, they do—the things you see; +squabbling among themselves, and contending for dominion and power and +riches, all of which they will have to leave behind them, when they +come down to us with their penny apiece. Now that we are up here, how +would it be for me to cry out to them at the top of my voice, to +abstain from their vain endeavours, and live with the prospect of Death +before their eyes? 'Fools' (I might say), 'why so much in earnest? Rest +from your toils. You will not live for ever. Nothing of the pomp of +this world will endure; nor can any man take anything hence when he +dies. He will go naked out of the world, and his house and his lands +and his gold will be another's, and ever another's.' If I were to call +out something of this sort, loud enough for them to hear, would it not +do some good? Would not the world be the better for it? + +_Her_. Ah, my poor friend, you know not what you say. Ignorance and +deceit have done for them what Odysseus did for his crew when he was +afraid of the Sirens; they have waxed men's ears up so effectually, +that no drill would ever open them. How then should they hear you? You +might shout till your lungs gave way. Ignorance is as potent here as +the waters of Lethe are with you. There are a few, to be sure, who from +a regard for Truth have refused the wax process; men whose eyes are +open to discern good and evil. + +_Ch_. Well then, we might call out to _them_? + +_Her_. There again: where would be the use of telling them what they +know already? See, they stand aloof from the rest of mankind, and scoff +at all that goes on; nothing is as they would have it. Nay, they are +evidently bent on giving life the slip, and joining you. Their +condemnations of folly make them unpopular here. + +_Ch_. Well done, my brave boys! There are not many of them, though, +Hermes. + +_Her_. These must serve. And now let us go down. + +_Ch_. There is still one thing I had a fancy to see. Show me the +receptacles into which they put the corpses, and your office will have +been discharged. + +_Her_. Ah, _sepulchres_, those are called, or _tombs_, or _graves_. +Well, do you see those mounds, and columns, and pyramids, outside the +various city walls? Those are the store-chambers of the dead. + +_Ch_. Why, they are putting flowers on the stones, and pouring costly +essences upon them. And in front of some of the mounds they have piled +up faggots, and dug trenches. Look: there is a splendid banquet laid +out, and they are burning it all; and pouring wine and mead, I suppose +it is, into the trenches! What does it all mean? + +_Her_. What satisfaction it affords to their friends in Hades, I am +unable to say. But the idea is, that the shades come up, and get as +close as they can, and feed upon the savoury steam of the meat, and +drink the mead in the trench. + +_Ch_. Eat and drink, when their skulls are dry bone? But I am wasting +my breath: you bring them down every day;—_you_ can say whether they +are likely ever to get up again, once they are safely underground! That +would be too much of a good thing! You would have your work cut out for +you and no mistake, if you had not only to bring them down, but also to +take them up again when they wanted a drink. Oh, fools and blockheads! +You little know how we arrange matters, or what a gulf is set betwixt +the living and the dead! + + The buried and unburied, both are Death's. + He ranks alike the beggar and the king; + Thersites sits by fair-haired Thetis' son. + Naked and withered roam the fleeting shades + Together through the fields of asphodel. + + +_Her_. Bless me, what a deluge of Homer! And now I think of it, I must +show you Achilles's tomb. There it is on the Trojan shore, at Sigeum. +And across the water is Rhoeteum, where Ajax lies buried. + +_Ch_. Rather small tombs, considering. Now show me the great cities, +those that we hear talked about in Hades; Nineveh, Babylon, Mycenae, +Cleonae, and Troy itself. I shipped numbers across from there, I +remember. For ten years running I had no time to haul my boat up and +clean it. + +_Her_. Why, as to Nineveh, it is gone, friend, long ago, and has left +no trace behind it; there is no saying whereabouts it may have been. +But there is Babylon, with its fine battlements and its enormous wall. +Before long it will be as hard to find as Nineveh. As to Mycenae and +Cleonae, I am ashamed to show them to you, let alone Troy. You will +throttle Homer, for certain, when you get back, for puffing them so. +They were prosperous cities, too, in their day; but they have gone the +way of all flesh. Cities, my friend, die, just like men; stranger +still, so do rivers! Inachus is gone from Argos—not a puddle left. + +_Ch_. Oh, Homer, Homer! You and your 'holy Troy,' and your 'city of +broad streets,' and your 'strong-walled Cleonae'!—By the way, what is +that battle going on over there? What are they murdering one another +about? + +_Her_. It is between the Argives and the Lacedaemonians. The general +who lies there half-dead, writing an inscription on the trophy with his +own blood, is Othryades. + +_Ch_. And what were they fighting for? + +_Her_. For the field of battle, neither more nor less. + +_Ch_. The fools! Not to know that though each one of them should win to +himself a whole Peloponnesus, he will get but a bare foot of ground +from Aeacus! As to yonder plain, one nation will till it after another, +and many a time will that trophy be turned up by the plough. + +_Her_. Even so. And now let us get down, and put these mountains to +rights again. After which, I must be off on my errand, and you back to +your ferry. You will see me there before long, with the day's +contingent of shades. + +_Ch_. I am much obliged to you, Hermes; the service shall be +perpetuated in my records. Thanks to you, my outing has been a success. +Dear, dear, what a world it is!—And never a word of Charon! + +F. + + + +OF SACRIFICE + +Methinks that man must lie sore stricken under the hand of sorrow, who +has not a smile left for the folly of his superstitious brethren, when +he sees them at work on sacrifice and festival and worship of the gods, +hears the subject of their prayers, and marks the nature of their +creed. Nor, I fancy, will a smile be all. He will first have a question +to ask himself: Is he to call them devout worshippers or very outcasts, +who think so meanly of God as to suppose that he can require anything +at the hand of man, can take pleasure in their flattery, or be wounded +by their neglect? Thus the afflictions of the Calydonians, that long +tale of misery and violence, ending with the death of Meleager—all is +attributed to the resentment of Artemis, at Oeneus's neglect in not +inviting her to a feast. She must have taken the disappointment very +much to heart. I fancy I see her, poor Goddess, left all alone in +Heaven, after the rest have set out for Calydon, brooding darkly over +the fine spread at which she will not be present. Those Ethiopians, +too; privileged, thrice-happy mortals! Zeus, one supposes, is not +unmindful of the handsome manner in which they entertained him and all +his family for twelve days running. With the Gods, clearly, nothing +goes for nothing. Each blessing has its price. Health is to be had, +say, for a calf; wealth, for a couple of yoke of oxen; a kingdom, for a +hecatomb. A safe conduct from Troy to Pylos has fetched as much as nine +bulls, and a passage from Aulis to Troy has been quoted at a princess. +For six yoke of oxen and a robe, Athene sold Hecuba a reprieve for +Troy; and it is to be presumed that a cock, a garland, a handful of +frankincense, will each buy something. + +Chryses, that experienced divine and eminent theologian, seems to have +realized this principle. Returning from his fruitless visit to +Agamemnon, he approaches Apollo with the air of a creditor, and demands +repayment of his loan. His attitude is one of remonstrance, almost, +'Good Apollo,' he cries, 'here have I been garlanding your temple, +where never garland hung before, and burning unlimited thigh-pieces of +bulls and goats upon your altars: yet when I suffer wrong, you take no +heed; you count my benefactions as nothing worth.' The God is quite put +out of countenance: he seizes his bow, settles down in the harbour and +smites the Achaeans with shafts of pestilence, them and their mules and +their dogs. + +And now that I have mentioned Apollo, I cannot refrain from an allusion +to certain other passages in his life, which are recorded by the sages. +With his unfortunate love affairs—the sad end of Hyacinth, and the +cruelty of Daphne—we are not concerned. But when that vote of censure +was passed on him for the slaughter of the Cyclopes, he was dismissed +from Heaven, and condemned to share the fortunes of men upon earth. It +was then that he served Admetus in Thessaly, and Laomedon in Phrygia; +and in the latter service he was not alone. He and Posidon together, +since better might not be, made bricks and built the walls of Troy; and +did not even get their full wages;—the Phrygian, it is said, remained +their debtor for no less a sum than five-and-twenty shillings Trojan, +and odd pence. These, and yet holier mysteries than these, are the high +themes of our poets. They tell of Hephaestus and of Prometheus; of +Cronus and Rhea, and well-nigh all the family of Zeus. And as they +never commence their poems without bespeaking the assistance of the +Muses, we must conclude that it is under that divine inspiration that +they sing, how Cronus unmanned his father Uranus, and was king in his +room; and how, like Argive Thyestes, he swallowed his own children; and +how thereafter Rhea saved Zeus by the fraud of the stone, and the child +was exposed in Crete, and suckled by a goat, as Telephus was by a hind, +and Cyrus the Great by a bitch; and how he dethroned his father, and +threw him into prison, and was king; and of his many wives, and how +finally (like a Persian or an Assyrian) he married his own sister Hera; +and of his love adventures, and how he peopled the Heaven with gods, +ay, and with demi-gods, the rogue! for he wooed the daughters of earth, +appearing to them now in a shower of gold, now in the form of a bull or +a swan or an eagle; a very Proteus for versatility. Once, and only +once, he conceived within his own brain, and gave birth to Athene. For +Dionysus, they say, he tore from the womb of Semele before the fire had +yet consumed her, and hid the child within his thigh, till the time of +travail was come. + +Similarly, we find Hera conceiving without external assistance, and +giving birth to Hephaestus; no child of fortune he, but a base +mechanic, living all his life at the forge, soot-begrimed as any +stoker. He is not even sound of limb; he has been lame ever since Zeus +threw him down from Heaven. Fortunately for us the Lemnians broke his +fall, or there would have been an end of him, as surely as there was of +Astyanax when he was flung from the battlements. But Hephaestus is +nothing to Prometheus. Who knows not the sorrows of that officious +philanthropist? How he too fell a victim to the wrath of Zeus, and was +carried into Scythia, and nailed up on Caucasus, with an eagle to keep +him company and make daily havoc of his liver? However, _there_ was a +reckoning settled, at any rate. But Rhea, now! We cannot, I think, pass +over her conduct unnoticed. It is surely most discreditable;—a lady of +her venerable years, the mother of such a family, still feeling the +pangs of love and jealousy, and carrying her beloved Attis about with +her in the lion-drawn car,—and he so ill qualified to play the lover's +part! After that, we can but wink, if we find Aphrodite making a slip, +or Selene time after time pulling up in mid-career to pay a visit to +Endymion. + +But enough of scandal. Borne on the wings of poesy, let us take flight +for Heaven itself, as Homer and Hesiod have done before us, and see how +all is disposed up there. The vault is of brass on the under side, as +we know from Homer. But climb over the edge, and take a peep up. You +are now actually in Heaven. Observe the increase of light; here is a +purer Sun, and brighter stars; daylight is everywhere, and the floor is +of gold. We arrive first at the abode of the Seasons; they are the +fortresses of Heaven. Then we have Iris and Hermes, the servants and +messengers of Zeus; and next Hephaestus's smithy, which is stocked with +all manner of cunning contrivances. Last come the dwellings of the +Gods, and the palace of Zeus. All are the work of Hephaestus; and noble +work it is. + +Hard by the throne of Zeus + + +(I suppose we must adapt our language to our altitude) + +sit all the gods. + + +Their eyes are turned downwards; intently they search every corner of +the earth; is there nowhere a fire to be seen, or the steam of burnt- +offerings + +... in eddying clouds upborne? + + +If a sacrifice is going forward, all mouths are open to feast upon the +smoke; like flies they settle on the altar to drink up the trickling +streams of blood. If they are dining at home, nectar and ambrosia is +the bill of fare. In ancient days, mortals have eaten and drunk at +their table. Such were Ixion and Tantalus; but they forgot their +manners, and talked too much. They are paying the penalty for it to +this day; and since then mortals have been excluded from Heaven. + +The life of the Gods being such as I have described, our religious +ordinances are in admirable harmony with the divine requirements. Our +first care has been to supply each God with his sacred grove, his holy +hill, and his own peculiar bird or plant. The next step was to assign +them their various sacred cities. Apollo has the freedom of Delphi and +Delos, Athene that of Athens (there is no disputing _her_ nationality); +Hera is an Argive, Rhea a Mygdonian, Aphrodite a Paphian. As for Zeus, +he is a Cretan born and bred—and buried, as any native of that island +will show you. It was a mistake of ours to suppose that Zeus was +dispensing the thunder and the rain and the rest of it;—he has been +lying snugly underground in Crete all this time. As it would never have +done to leave the Gods without a hearth and home, temples were now +erected, and the services of Phidias, Polyclitus, and Praxiteles were +called in to create images in their likeness. Chance glimpses of their +originals (but where obtained I know not) enabled these artists to do +justice to the beard of Zeus, the perpetual youth of Apollo, the down +on Hermes's cheek, Posidon's sea-green hair, and Athene's flashing +eyes; with the result that on entering the temple of Zeus men believe +that they see before them, not Indian ivory, nor gold from a Thracian +mine, but the veritable son of Cronus and Rhea, translated to earth by +the hand of Phidias, with instructions to keep watch over the deserted +plains of Pisa, and content with his lot, if, once in four years, a +spectator of the games can snatch a moment to pay him sacrifice. + +And now the altars stand ready; proclamation has been made, and +lustration duly performed. The victims are accordingly brought +forward—an ox from the plough, a ram or a goat, according as the +worshipper is a farmer, a shepherd, or a goatherd; sometimes it is only +frankincense or a honey cake; nay, a poor man may conciliate the God by +merely kissing his hand. But it is with the priests that we are +concerned. They first make sure that the victim is without blemish, and +worthy of the sacrificial knife; then they crown him with garlands and +lead him to the altar, where he is slaughtered before the God's eyes, +to the broken accompaniment of his own sanctimonious bellowings, most +musical, most melancholy. The delight of the Gods at such a spectacle, +who can doubt? + +According to the proclamation, no man shall approach the holy ground +with _unclean hands_. Yet there stands the priest himself, wallowing in +gore; handling his knife like a very Cyclops, drawing out entrails and +heart, sprinkling the altar with blood,—in short, omitting no detail of +his holy office. Finally, he kindles fire, and sets the victim bodily +thereon, sheep or goat, unfleeced, unflayed. A godly steam, and fit for +godly nostrils, rises heavenwards, and drifts to each quarter of the +sky. The Scythian, by the way, will have nothing to do with paltry +cattle: he offers _men_ to Artemis; and the offering is appreciated. + +But all this, and all that Assyria, Phrygia, and Lydia can show, +amounts to nothing much. If you would see the Gods in their glory, fit +denizens of Heaven, you must go to Egypt. There you will find that Zeus +has sprouted ram's horns, our old friend Hermes has the muzzle of a +dog, and Pan is perfect goat; ibis, crocodile, ape,—each is a God in +disguise. + +And wouldst thou know the truth that lurks herein? + + +If so, you will find no lack of sages and scribes and shaven priests to +inform you (after expulsion of the _profanum vulgus_) how, when the +Giants and their other enemies rose against them, the Gods fled to +Egypt to hide themselves, and there took the form of goat and ram, of +bird and reptile, which forms they preserve to this day. Of all this +they have documentary evidence, dating from thousands of years back, +stored up in their temples. Their sacrifices differ from others only in +this respect, that they go into mourning for the victim, slaying him +first, and beating their breasts for grief afterwards, and (in some +parts) burying him as soon as he is killed. When their great god Apis +dies, off comes every man's hair, however much he values himself on it; +though he had the purple lock of Nisus, it would make no difference: he +must show a sad crown on the occasion, if he die for it. It is as the +result of an election that each succeeding Apis leaves his pasture for +the temple; his superior beauty and majestic bearing prove that he is +something more than bull. + +On such absurdities as these, such vulgar credulity, remonstrance would +be thrown away; a Heraclitus would best meet the case, or a Democritus; +for the ignorance of these men is as laughable as their folly is +deplorable. + +F. + + + +SALE OF CREEDS + +[Footnote: The distinction between the personified creeds or +philosophies here offered for sale, and their various founders or +principal exponents, is but loosely kept up. Not only do most of the +creeds bear the names of their founders, but some are even credited +with their physical peculiarities and their personal experiences.] + +_Zeus. Hermes. Several Dealers. Creeds_. + +_Zeus_. Now get those benches straight there, and make the place fit to +be seen. Bring up the lots, one of you, and put them in line. Give them +a rub up first, though; we must have them looking their best, to +attract bidders. Hermes, you can declare the sale-room open, and a +welcome to all comers.—_For Sale! A varied assortment of Live Creeds. +Tenets of every description.—Cash on delivery; or credit allowed on +suitable security_. + +_Hermes_. Here they come, swarming in. No time to lose; we must not +keep them waiting. + +_Zeus_. Well, let us begin. + +_Her_. What are we to put up first? + +_Zeus_. The Ionic fellow, with the long hair. He seems a showy piece of +goods. + +_Her_. Step up, Pythagoreanism, and show yourself. + +_Zeus_. Go ahead. + +_Her_. Now here is a creed of the first water. Who bids for this +handsome article? What gentleman says Superhumanity? Harmony of the +Universe! Transmigration of souls! Who bids? + +_First Dealer_. He looks all right. And what can he do? + +_Her_. Magic, music, arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, jugglery. +Prophecy in all its branches. + +_First D_. Can I ask him some questions? + +_Her_. Ask away, and welcome. + +_First D_. Where do you come from? + +_Py_. Samos. + +_First D_. Where did you get your schooling? + +_Py_. From the sophists in Egypt. + +_First D_. If I buy you, what will you teach me? + +_Py_. Nothing. I will remind you. + +_First D_. Remind me? + +_Py_. But first I shall have to cleanse your soul of its filth. + +_First D_. Well, suppose the cleansing process complete. How is the +reminding done? + +_Py_. We shall begin with a long course of silent contemplation. Not a +word to be spoken for five years. + +_First D_. You would have been just the creed for Croesus's son! But +_I_ have a tongue in my head; I have no ambition to be a statue. And +after the five years' silence? + +_Py_. You will study music and geometry. + +_First D_. A charming recipe! The way to be wise: learn the guitar. + +_Py_. Next you will learn to count. + +_First D_. I can do that already. + +_Py_. Let me hear you. + +_First D_. One, two, three, four,— + +_Py_. There you are, you see. _Four_ (as you call it) is _ten_. Four +the perfect triangle. Four the oath of our school. + +_First D_. Now by Four, most potent Four!—higher and holier mysteries +than these I never heard. + +_Py_. Then you will learn of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water; their action, +their movement, their shapes. + +_First D_. Have Fire and Air and Water _shapes_? + +_Py_. Clearly. That cannot move which lacks shape and form You will +also find that God is a number; an intelligence; a harmony. + +_First D_. You surprise me. + +_Py_. More than this, you have to learn that you yourself are not the +person you appear to be. + +_First D_. What, I am some one else, not the I who am speaking to you? + +_Py_. You are that you now: but you have formerly inhabited another +body, and borne another name. And in course of time you will change +once more. + +_First D_. Why then I shall be immortal, and take one shape after +another? But enough of this. And now what is your diet? + +_Py_. Of living things I eat none. All else I eat, except beans. + +_First D_. And why no beans? Do you dislike them? + +_Py_. No. But they are sacred things. Their nature is a mystery. +Consider them first in their generative aspect; take a green one and +peel it, and you will see what I mean. Again, boil one and expose it to +moonlight for a proper number of nights, and you have—blood. What is +more, the Athenians use beans to vote with. + +_First D_. Admirable! A very feast of reason. Now just strip, and let +me see what you are like. Bless me, here is a creed with a golden +thigh! He is no mortal, he is a God. I must have him at any price. What +do you start him at? + +_Her_. Forty pounds. + +_First D_. He is mine for forty pounds. + +_Zeus_. Take the gentleman's name and address. + +_Her_. He must come from Italy, I should think; Croton or Tarentum, or +one of the Greek towns in those parts. But he is not the only buyer. +Some three hundred of them have clubbed together. + +_Zeus_. They are welcome to him. Now up with the next. + +_Her_. What about yonder grubby Pontian? [Footnote: See _Diogenes_ in +Notes.] + +_Zeus_. Yes, he will do. + +_Her_. You there with the wallet and cloak; come along, walk round the +room. Lot No. 2. A most sturdy and valiant creed, free-born. What +offers? + +_Second D_. Hullo, Mr. Auctioneer, are you going to sell a free man? + +_Her_. That was the idea. + +_Second D_. Take care, he may have you up for kidnapping. This might be +matter for the Areopagus. + +_Her_. Oh, he would as soon be sold as not. He feels just as free as +ever. + +_Second D_. But what is one to do with such a dirty fellow? He is a +pitiable sight. One might put him to dig perhaps, or to carry water. + +_Her_. That he can do and more. Set him to guard your house, and you +will find him better than any watch-dog.—They call him Dog for short. + +_Second D_. Where does he come from? and what is his method? + +_Her_. He can best tell you that himself. + +_Second D_. I don't like his looks. He will probably snarl if I go near +him, or take a snap at me, for all I know. See how he lifts his stick, +and scowls; an awkward-looking customer! + +_Her_. Don't be afraid. He is quite tame. + +_Second D_. Tell me, good fellow, where do you come from? + +_Dio_. Everywhere. + +_Second D_. What does that mean? + +_Dio_. It means that I am a citizen of the world. + +_Second D_. And your model? + +_Dio_. Heracles. + +_Second D_. Then why no lion's-skin? You have the orthodox club. + +_Dio_. My cloak is my lion's-skin. Like Heracles, I live in a state of +warfare, and my enemy is Pleasure; but unlike him I am a volunteer. My +purpose is to purify humanity. + +_Second D_. A noble purpose. Now what do I understand to be your strong +subject? What is your profession? + +_Dio_. The liberation of humanity, and the treatment of the passions. +In short, I am the prophet of Truth and Candour. + +_Second D_. Well, prophet; and if I buy you, how shall you handle my +case? + +_Dio_. I shall commence operations by stripping off your superfluities, +putting you into fustian, and leaving you closeted with Necessity. Then +I shall give you a course of hard labour. You will sleep on the ground, +drink water, and fill your belly as best you can. Have you money? Take +my advice and throw it into the sea. With wife and children and country +you will not concern yourself; there will be no more of that nonsense. +You will exchange your present home for a sepulchre, a ruin, or a tub. +What with lupines and close-written tomes, your knapsack will never be +empty; and you will vote yourself happier than any king. Nor will you +esteem it any inconvenience, if a flogging or a turn of the rack should +fall to your lot. + +_Second D_. How! Am I a tortoise, a lobster, that I should be flogged +and feel it not? + +_Dio_. You will take your cue from Hippolytus; _mutates mutandis_. + +_Second D_. How so? + +_Dio_. 'The heart may burn, the tongue knows nought thereof'. +[Footnote: Hippolytus (in Euripides's play of that name) is reproached +with having broken an oath, and thus defends himself: 'The tongue hath +sworn: the heart knew nought thereof.'] Above all, be bold, be +impudent; distribute your abuse impartially to king and commoner. They +will admire your spirit. You will talk the Cynic jargon with the true +Cynic snarl, scowling as you walk, and walking as one should who +scowls; an epitome of brutality. Away with modesty, good-nature, and +forbearance. Wipe the blush from your cheek for ever. Your +hunting-ground will be the crowded city. You will live alone in its +midst, holding communion with none, admitting neither friend nor guest; +for such would undermine your power. Scruple not to perform the deeds +of darkness in broad daylight: select your love-adventures with a view +to the public entertainment: and finally, when the fancy takes you, +swallow a raw cuttle-fish, and die. Such are the delights of Cynicism. + +_Second D_. Oh, vile creed! Monstrous creed! Avaunt! + +_Dio_. But look you, it is all so easy; it is within every man's reach. +No education is necessary, no nonsensical argumentation. I offer you a +short cut to Glory. You may be the merest clown—cobbler, fishmonger, +carpenter, money-changer; yet there is nothing to prevent your becoming +famous. Given brass and boldness, you have only to learn to wag your +tongue with dexterity. + +_Second D_. All this is of no use to me. But I might make a sailor or a +gardener of you at a pinch; that is, if you are to be had cheap. +Three-pence is the most I can give. + +_Her_. He is yours, to have and to hold. And good riddance to the +brawling foul-mouthed bully. He is a slanderer by wholesale. + +_Zeus_. Now for the Cyrenaic, the crowned and purple-robed. + +_Her_. Attend please, gentlemen all. A most valuable article, this, and +calls for a long purse. Look at him. A sweet thing in creeds. A creed +for a king. Has any gentleman a use for the Lap of Luxury? Who bids? + +_Third D_. Come and tell me what you know. If you are a practical +creed, I will have you. + +_Her_. Please not to worry him with questions, sir. He is drunk, and +cannot answer; his tongue plays him tricks, as you see. + +_Third D_. And who in his senses would buy such an abandoned reprobate? +How he smells of scent! And how he slips and staggers about! Well, you +must speak for him, Hermes. What can he do? What is his line? + +_Her_. Well, for any gentleman who is not strait-laced, who loves a +pretty girl, a bottle, and a jolly companion, he is the very thing. He +is also a past master in gastronomy, and a connoisseur in +voluptuousness generally. He was educated at Athens, and has served +royalty in Sicily [Footnote: See _Aristippus_ in Notes.], where he had +a very good character. Here are his principles in a nutshell: Think the +worst of things: make the most of things: get all possible pleasure out +of things. + +_Third D_. You must look for wealthier purchasers. My purse is not +equal to such a festive creed. + +_Her_. Zeus, this lot seems likely to remain on our hands. + +_Zeus_. Put it aside, and up with another. Stay, take the pair from +Abdera and Ephesus; the creeds of Smiles and Tears. They shall make one +lot. + +_Her_. Come forward, you two. Lot No. 4. A superlative pair. The +smartest brace of creeds on our catalogue. + +_Fourth D_. Zeus! What a difference is here! One of them does nothing +but laugh, and the other might be at a funeral; he is all tears.—You +there! what is the joke? + +_Democr_. You ask? You and your affairs are all one vast joke. + +_Fourth D_. So! You laugh at us? Our business is a toy? + +_Democr_. It is. There is no taking it seriously. All is vanity. Mere +interchange of atoms in an infinite void. + +_Fourth D_. _Your_ vanity is infinite, if you like. Stop that laughing, +you rascal.—And you, my poor fellow, what are you crying for? I must +see what I can make of you. + +_Heracl_. I am thinking, friend, upon human affairs; and well may I +weep and lament, for the doom of all is sealed. Hence my compassion and +my sorrow. For the present, I think not of it; but the future!—the +future is all bitterness. Conflagration and destruction of the world. I +weep to think that nothing abides. All things are whirled together in +confusion. Pleasure and pain, knowledge and ignorance, great and small; +up and down they go, the playthings of Time. + +_Fourth D_. And what is Time? + +_Heracl_. A child; and plays at draughts and blindman's-bluff. + +_Fourth D_. And men? + +_Heracl_. Are mortal Gods. + +_Fourth D_. And Gods? + +_Heracl_. Immortal men. + +_Fourth D_. So! Conundrums, fellow? Nuts to crack? You are a very +oracle for obscurity. + +_Heracl_. Your affairs do not interest me. + +_Fourth D_. No one will be fool enough to bid for you at that rate. + +_Heracl_. Young and old, him that bids and him that bids not, a murrain +seize you all! + +_Fourth D_. A sad case. He will be melancholy mad before long. Neither +of these is the creed for my money. + +_Her_. No one bids. + +_Zeus_. Next lot. + +_Her_. The Athenian there? Old Chatterbox? + +_Zeus_. By all means. + +_Her_. Come forward!—A good sensible creed this. Who buys Holiness? + +_Fifth D_. Let me see. What are you good for? + +_Soc_. I teach the art of love. + +_Fifth D_. A likely bargain for me! I want a tutor for my young Adonis. + +_Soc_. And could he have a better? The love I teach is of, the spirit, +not of the flesh. Under my roof, be sure, a boy will come to no harm. + +_Fifth D_. Very unconvincing that. A teacher of the art of love, and +never meddle with anything but the spirit? Never use the opportunities +your office gives you? + +_Soc_. Now by Dog and Plane-tree, it is as I say! + +_Fifth D_. Heracles! What strange Gods are these? + +_Soc_. Why, the Dog is a God, I suppose? Is not Anubis made much of in +Egypt? Is there not a Dog-star in Heaven, and a Cerberus in the lower +world? + +_Fifth D_. Quite so. My mistake. Now what is your manner of life? + +_Soc_. I live in a city of my own building; I make my own laws, and +have a novel constitution of my own. + +_Fifth D._ I should like to hear some of your statutes. + +_Soc_. You shall hear the greatest of them all. No woman shall be +restricted to one husband. Every man who likes is her husband. + +_Fifth D_. What! Then the laws of adultery are clean swept away? + +_Soc_. I should think they were! and a world of hair-splitting with +them. + +_Fifth D_. And what do you do with the handsome boys? + +_Soc_. Their kisses are the reward of merit, of noble and spirited +actions. + +_Fifth D_. Unparalleled generosity!—And now, what are the main features +of your philosophy? + +_Soc_. Ideas and types of things. All things that you see, the earth +and all that is upon it, the sea, the sky,—each has its counterpart in +the invisible world. + +_Fifth D_. And where are they? + +_Soc_. Nowhere. Were they anywhere, they were not what they are. + +_Fifth D_. I see no signs of these 'types' of yours. + +_Soc_. Of course not; because you are spiritually blind. _I_ see the +counterparts of all things; an invisible you, an invisible me; +everything is in duplicate. + +_Fifth D_. Come, such a shrewd and lynx-eyed creed is worth a bid. Let +me see. What do you want for him? + +_Her_. Five hundred. + +_Fifth D_. Done with you. Only I must settle the bill another day. + +_Her_. What name? + +_Fifth D_. Dion; of Syracuse. + +_Her_. Take him, and much good may he do you. Now I want Epicureanism. +Who offers for Epicureanism? He is a disciple of the laughing creed and +the drunken creed, whom we were offering just now. But he has one extra +accomplishment—impiety. For the rest, a dainty, lickerish creed. + +_Sixth D_. What price? + +_Her_. Eight pounds. + +_Sixth D_. Here you are. By the way, you might let me know what he +likes to eat. + +_Her_. Anything sweet. Anything with honey in it. Dried figs are his +favourite dish. + +_Sixth D_. That is all right. We will get in a supply of Carian +fig-cakes. + +_Zeus_. Call the next lot. Stoicism; the creed of the sorrowful +countenance, the close-cropped creed. + +_Her_. Ah yes, several customers, I fancy, are on the look-out for him. +Virtue incarnate! The very quintessence of creeds! Who is for universal +monopoly? + +_Seventh D_. How are we to understand that? + +_Her_. Why, here is monopoly of wisdom, monopoly of beauty, monopoly of +courage, monopoly of justice. Sole king, sole orator, sole legislator, +sole millionaire. + +_Seventh D_. And I suppose sole cook, sole tanner, sole carpenter, and +all that? + +_Her_. Presumably. + +_Seventh D_. Regard me as your purchaser, good fellow, and tell me all +about yourself. I dare say you think it rather hard to be sold for a +slave? + +_Chrys_. Not at all. These things are beyond our control. And what is +beyond our control is indifferent. + +_Seventh D_. I don't see how you make that out. + +_Chrys_. What! Have you yet to learn that of _indifferentia_ some are +_praeposita_ and others _rejecta_? + +_Seventh D_. Still I don't quite see. + +_Chrys_. No; how should you? You are not familiar with our terms. You +lack the _comprehensio visi_. The earnest student of logic knows this +and more than this. He understands the nature of subject, predicate, +and contingent, and the distinctions between them. + +_Seventh D_. Now in Wisdom's name, tell me, pray, what is a predicate? +what is a contingent? There is a ring about those words that takes my +fancy. + +_Chrys_. With all my heart. A man lame in one foot knocks that foot +accidentally against a stone, and gets a cut. Now the man is _subject_ +to lameness; which is the _predicate_. And the cut is a _contingency_. + +_Seventh D_. Oh, subtle! What else can you tell me? + +_Chrys_. I have verbal involutions, for the better hampering, +crippling, and muzzling of my antagonists. This is performed by the use +of the far-famed syllogism. + +_Seventh D_. Syllogism! I warrant him a tough customer. + +_Chrys_. Take a case. You have a child? + +_Seventh D_. Well, and what if I have? + +_Chrys_. A crocodile catches him as he wanders along the bank of a +river, and promises to restore him to you, if you will first guess +correctly whether he means to restore him or not. Which are you going +to say? + +_Seventh D_. A difficult question. I don't know which way I should get +him back soonest. In Heaven's name, answer for me, and save the child +before he is eaten up. + +_Chrys_. Ha, ha. I will teach you far other things than that. + +_Seventh D_. For instance? + +_Chrys_. There is the 'Reaper.' There is the 'Rightful Owner.' Better +still, there is the 'Electra' and the 'Man in the Hood.' + +_Seventh D_. Who was he? and who was Electra? + +_Chrys_. She was _the_ Electra, the daughter of Agamemnon, to whom the +same thing was known and unknown at the same time. She knew that +Orestes was her brother: yet when he stood before her she did not know +(until he revealed himself) that her brother was Orestes. As to the Man +in the Hood, he will surprise you considerably. Answer me now: do you +know your own father? + +_Seventh D_. Yes. + +_Chrys_. Well now, if I present to you a man in a hood, shall you know +him? eh? + +_Seventh D_. Of course not. + +_Chrys_. Well, but the Man in the Hood is your father. You don't know +the Man in the Hood. Therefore you don't know your own father. + +_Seventh D_. Why, no. But if I take his hood off, I shall get at the +facts. Now tell me, what is the end of your philosophy? What happens +when you reach the goal of virtue? + +_Chrys_. In regard to things external, health, wealth, and the like, I +am then all that Nature intended me to be. But there is much previous +toil to be undergone. You will first sharpen your eyes on minute +manuscripts, amass commentaries, and get your bellyful of outlandish +terms. Last but not least, it is forbidden to be wise without repeated +doses of hellebore. + +_Seventh D_. All this is exalted and magnanimous to a degree. But what +am I to think when I find that you are also the creed of cent-per-cent, +the creed of the usurer? Has _he_ swallowed his hellebore? is _he_ made +perfect in virtue? + +_Chrys_. Assuredly. On none but the wise man does usury sit well. +Consider. His is the art of putting two and two together, and usury is +the art of putting interest together. The two are evidently connected, +and one as much as the other is the prerogative of the true believer; +who, not content, like common men, with simple interest, will also take +interest _upon_ interest. For interest, as you are probably aware, is +of two kinds. There is simple interest, and there is its offspring, +compound interest. Hear Syllogism on the subject. 'If I take simple +interest, I shall also take compound. But I _shall_ take simple +interest: therefore I shall take compound.' + +_Seventh D_. And the same applies to the fees you take from your +youthful pupils? None but the true believer sells virtue for a fee? + +_Chrys_. Quite right. I take the fee in my pupil's interest, not +because I want it. The world is made up of diffusion and accumulation. +I accordingly practise my pupil in the former, and myself in the +latter. + +_Seventh D_. But it ought to be the other way. The pupil ought to +accumulate, and you, 'sole millionaire,' ought to diffuse. + +_Chrys_. Ha! you jest with me? Beware of the shaft of insoluble +syllogism. + +_Seventh D_. What harm can that do? + +_Chrys_. It cripples; it ties the tongue, and turns the brain. Nay, I +have but to will it, and you are stone this instant. + +_Seventh D_. Stone! You are no Perseus, friend? + +_Chrys_. See here. A stone is a body? + +_Seventh D_. Yes. + +_Chrys_. Well, and an animal is a body? + +_Seventh D_. Yes. + +_Chrys_. And you are an animal? + +_Seventh D_. I suppose I am. + +_Chrys_. Therefore you are a body. Therefore a stone. + +_Seventh D_. Mercy, in Heaven's name! Unstone me, and let me be flesh +as heretofore. + +_Chrys_. That is soon done. Back with you into flesh! Thus: Is every +body animate? + +_Seventh D_. No. + +_Chrys_. Is a stone animate? + +_Seventh D_. No. + +_Chrys_. Now, you are a body? + +_Seventh D_. Yes. + +_Chrys_. And an animate body? + +_Seventh D_. Yes. + +_Chrys_. Then being animate, you cannot be a stone. + +_Seventh D_. Ah! thank you, thank you. I was beginning to feel my limbs +growing numb and solidifying like Niobe's. Oh, I must have you. What's +to pay? + +_Her_. Fifty pounds. + +_Seventh D_. Here it is. + +_Her_. Are you sole purchaser? + +_Seventh D_. Not I. All these gentlemen here are going shares. + +_Her_. A fine strapping lot of fellows, and will do the 'Reaper' +credit. + +_Zeus_. Don't waste time. Next lot,—the Peripatetic! + +_Her_. Now, my beauty, now, Affluence! Gentlemen, if you want Wisdom +for your money, here is a creed that comprises all knowledge. + +_Eighth D_. What is he like? + +_Her_. He is temperate, good-natured, easy to get on with; and his +strong point is, that he is twins. + +_Eighth D_. How can that be? + +_Her_. Why, he is one creed outside, and another inside. So remember, +if you buy him, one of him is called Esoteric, and the other Exoteric. + +_Eighth D_. And what has he to say for himself? + +_Her_. He has to say that there are three kinds of good: spiritual, +corporeal, circumstantial. + +_Eighth D_. _There's_ something a man can understand. How much is he? + +_Her_. Eighty pounds. + +_Eighth D_. Eighty pounds is a long price. + +_Her_. Not at all, my dear sir, not at all. You see, there is some +money with him, to all appearance. Snap him up before it is too late. +Why, from him you will find out in no time how long a gnat lives, to +how many fathoms' depth the sunlight penetrates the sea, and what an +oyster's soul is like. + +_Eighth D_. Heracles! Nothing escapes him. + +_Her_. Ah, these are trifles. You should hear some of his more abstruse +speculations, concerning generation and birth and the development of +the embryo; and his distinction between man, the laughing creature, and +the ass, which is neither a laughing nor a carpentering nor a shipping +creature. + +_Eighth D_. Such knowledge is as useful as it is ornamental. Eighty +pounds be it, then. + +_Her_. He is yours. + +_Zeus_. What have we left? + +_Her_. There is Scepticism. Come along, Pyrrhias, and be put up. +Quick's the word. The attendance is dwindling; there will be small +competition. Well, who buys Lot 9? + +_Ninth D_. I. Tell me first, though, what do you know? + +_Sc_. Nothing. + +_Ninth D_. But how's that? + +_Sc_. There does not appear to me to _be_ anything. + +_Ninth D_. Are not _we_ something? + +_Sc_. How do I know that? + +_Ninth D_. And you yourself? + +_Sc_. Of that I am still more doubtful. + +_Ninth D_. Well, you _are_ in a fix! And what have you got those scales +for? + +_Sc_. I use them to weigh arguments in, and get them evenly balanced, +They must be absolutely equal—not a feather-weight to choose between +them; then, and not till then, can I make uncertain which is right. + +_Ninth D_. What else can you turn your hand to? + +_Sc_. Anything; except catching a runaway. + +_Ninth D_. And why not that? + +_Sc_. Because, friend, everything eludes my grasp. + +_Ninth D_. I believe you. A slow, lumpish fellow you seem to be. And +what is the end of your knowledge? + +_Sc_. Ignorance. Deafness. Blindness. + +_Ninth D_. What! sight and hearing both gone? + +_Sc_. And with them judgement and perception, and all, in short, that +distinguishes man from a worm. + +_Ninth D_. You are worth money!—What shall we say for him? + +_Her_. Four pounds. + +_Ninth D_. Here it is. Well, fellow; so you are mine? + +_Sc_. I doubt it. + +_Ninth D_. Nay, doubt it not! You are bought and paid for. + +_Sc_. It is a difficult case…. I reserve my decision. + +_Ninth D_. Now, come along with me, like a good slave. + +_Sc_. But how am I to know whether what you say is true? + +_Ninth D_. Ask the auctioneer. Ask my money. Ask the spectators. + +_Sc_. Spectators? But can we be sure there are any? + +_Ninth D_. Oh, I'll send you to the treadmill. That will convince you +with a vengeance that I am your master. + +_Sc_. Reserve your decision. + +_Ninth D_. Too late. It is given. + +_Her_. Stop that wrangling and go with your purchaser. Gentlemen, we +hope to see you here again to-morrow, when we shall be offering some +lots suitable for plain men, artisans, and shopkeepers. + +F. + + + +THE FISHER + +A RESURRECTION PIECE + +_Lucian or Parrhesiades. Socrates, Empedocles. Plato. Chrysippus. +Diogenes. Aristotle. Other Philosophers. Platonists. Pythagoreans. +Stoics. Peripatetics. Epicureans. Academics. Philosophy. Truth. +Temperance. Virtue. Syllogism. Exposure. Priestess of Athene_. + + +_Soc_. Stone the miscreant; stone him with many stones; clod him with +clods; pot him with pots; let the culprit feel your sticks; leave him +no way out. At him, Plato! come, Chrysippus, let him have it! Shoulder +to shoulder, close the ranks; + +Let wallet succour wallet, staff aid staff! + + +We are all parties in this war; not one of us but he has assailed. You, +Diogenes, now if ever is the time for that stick of yours; stand firm, +all of you. Let him reap the fruits of his reveling. What, Epicurus, +Aristippus, tired already? 'tis too soon; ye sages, + +Be men; relume that erstwhile furious wrath! + + +Aristotle, one more sprint. There! the brute is caught; we have you, +villain. You shall soon know a little more about the characters you +have assailed. Now, what shall we do with him? it must be rather an +elaborate execution, to meet all our claims upon him; he owes a +separate death to every one of us. + +_First Phil_. Impale him, say I. + +_Second Phil_. Yes, but scourge him first. + +_Third Phil_. Tear out his eyes. + +_Fourth Phil_. Ah, but first out with the offending tongue. + +_Soc_. What say you, Empedocles? + +_Emp_. Oh, fling him into a crater; that will teach him to vilify his +betters. + +_Pl_. 'Twere best for him, Orpheus or Pentheus like, to + +Find death, dashed all to pieces on the rock; + + +so each might have taken a piece home with him. + +_Lu_. Forbear; spare me; I appeal to the God of suppliants. + +_Soc_. Too late; no loophole is left you now. And you know your Homer: + +'Twixt men and lions, covenants are null.' + + +_Lu_. Why, it is in Homer's name that I ask my boon. You will perhaps +pay reverence to his lines, and listen to a selection from him: + + Slay not; no churl is he; a ransom take + Of bronze and gold, whereof wise hearts are fain. + + +_Pl_. Why, two can play at that game; _exempli gratia_, + + Reviler, babble not of gold, nor nurse + Hope of escape from these our hands that hold thee. + + +_Lu_. Ah me, ah me! my best hopes dashed, with Homer! Let me fly to +Euripides; it may be he will protect me: + +Leave him his life; the suppliant's life is sacred. + + +_Pl_. Does this happen to be Euripides too— + +Evil men evil treated is no evil? + + +_Lu_. And will you slay me now for nought but words? + +_Pl_. Most certainly; our author has something on that point too: + + Unbridled lips + And folly's slips + Invite Fate's whips. + + +_Lu_. Oh, very well; as you are all set on murdering me, and escape is +impossible, do at least tell me who you are, and what harm I have done +you; it must be something irreparable, to judge by your relentless +murderous pursuit. + +_Pl_. What harm you have done us, vile fellow? your own conscience and +your fine dialogues will tell you; you have called Philosophy herself +bad names, and as for us, you have subjected us to the indignity of a +public auction, and put up wise men—ay, and free men, which is more—for +sale. We have reason to be angry; we have got a short leave of absence +from Hades, and come up against you—Chrysippus here, Epicurus and +myself, Aristotle yonder, the taciturn Pythagoras, Diogenes and all of +us that your dialogues have made so free with. + +_Lu_. Ah, I breathe again. Once hear the truth about my conduct to you, +and you will never put me to death. You can throw away those stones. +Or, no, keep them; you shall have a better mark for them presently. + +_Pl_. This is trifling. This day thou diest; nay, even now, + +A suit of stones shalt don, thy livery due. + + +_Lu_. Believe me, good gentlemen, I have been at much pains on your +behalf; to slay me is to slay one who should rather be selected for +commendation a kindred spirit, a well-wisher, a man after your own +heart, a promoter, if I may be bold to say it, of your pursuits. See to +it that you catch not the tone of our latter-day philosophers, and be +thankless, petulant, and hard of heart, to him that deserves better of +you. + +_Pl_. Talk of a brazen front! So to abuse us is to oblige us. I believe +you are under the delusion that you are really talking to slaves; after +the insolent excesses of your tongue, do you propose to chop gratitude +with us? + +_Lu_. How or when was I ever insolent to you? I have always been an +admirer of philosophy, your panegyrist, and a student of the writings +you left. All that comes from my pen is but what you give me; I +deflower you, like a bee, for the behoof of mankind; and then there is +praise and recognition; they know the flowers, whence and whose the +honey was, and the manner of my gathering; their surface feeling is for +my selective art, but deeper down it is for you and your meadow, where +you put forth such bright blooms and myriad dyes, if one knows but how +to sort and mix and match, that one be not in discord with another. +Could he that had found you such have the heart to abuse those +benefactors to whom his little fame was due? then he must be a Thamyris +or Eurytus, defying the Muses who gave his gift of song, or challenging +Apollo with the bow, forgetful from whom he had his marksmanship. + +_Pl_. All this, good sir, is quite according to the principles of +rhetoric; that is to say, it is clean contrary to the facts; your +unscrupulousness is only emphasized by this adding of insult to injury; +you confess that your arrows are from our quiver, and you use them +against us; your one aim is to abuse us. This is our reward for showing +you that meadow, letting you pluck freely, fill your bosom, and depart. +For this alone you richly deserve death. + +_Lu_. There; your ears are partial; they are deaf to the right. Why, I +would never have believed that personal feeling could affect a Plato, a +Chrysippus, an Aristotle; with you, of all men, I thought there was dry +light. But, dear sirs, do not condemn me unheard; give me trial first. +Was not the principle of your establishing—that the law of the stronger +was not the law of the State, and that differences should be settled in +court after due hearing of both sides? Appoint a judge, then; be you my +accusers, by your own mouths or by your chosen representative; and let +me defend my own case; then if I be convicted of wrong, and that be the +court's decision, I shall get my deserts, and you will have no violence +upon your consciences. But if examination shows me spotless and +irreproachable, the court will acquit me, and then turn you your wrath +upon the deceivers who have excited you against me. + +_Pl_. Ah, every cock to his own dunghill! You think you will hoodwink +the jury and get off. I hear you are a lawyer, an advocate, an old hand +at a speech. Have you any judge to suggest who will be proof against +such an experienced corrupter as you? + +_Lu_. Oh, be reassured. The official I think of proposing is no +suspicious, dubious character likely to sell a verdict. What say you to +forming the court yourselves, with Philosophy for your President? + +_Pl_. Who is to prosecute, if we are the jury? + +_Lu_. Oh, you can do both; I am not in the least afraid; so much +stronger is my case; the defence wins, hands down. + +_Pl_. Pythagoras, Socrates, what do you think? perhaps the man's appeal +to law is not unreasonable. + +_Soc_. No; come along, form the court, fetch Philosophy, and see what +he has to say for himself. To condemn unheard is a sadly crude +proceeding, not for us; leave that to the hasty people with whom might +is right. We shall give occasion to the enemy to blaspheme if we stone +a man without a hearing, professed lovers of justice as we are. We +shall have to keep quiet about Anytus and Meletus, my accusers, and the +jury on that occasion, if we cannot spare an hour to hear this fellow +before he suffers. + +_Pl_. Very true, Socrates. We will go and fetch Philosophy. The +decision shall be hers, and we will accept it, whatever it is. + +_Lu_. Why, now, my masters, you are in a better and more law-abiding +mood. However, keep those stones, as I said; you will need them in +court. But where is Philosophy to be found? I do not know where she +lives, myself. I once spent a long time wandering about in search of +her house, wishing to make her acquaintance. Several times I met some +long-bearded people in threadbare cloaks who professed to be fresh from +her presence; I took their word for it, and asked them the way; but +they knew considerably less about it than I, and either declined to +answer, by way of concealing their ignorance, or else pointed to one +door after another. I have never been able to find the right one to +this day. + +Many a time, upon some inward prompting or external offer of guidance, +I have come to a door with the confident hope that this time I really +was right; there was such a crowd flowing in and out, all of solemn +persons decently habited and thoughtful-faced; I would insinuate myself +into the press and go in too. What I found would be a woman who was not +really natural, however skillfully she played at beauty unadorned; I +could see at once that the apparent _neglige_ of her hair was studied +for effect, and the folds of her dress not so careless as they looked. +One could tell that nature was a scheme of decoration with her, and +artlessness an artistic device. The white lead and the rouge did not +absolutely defy detection, and her talk betrayed her real vocation; she +liked her lovers to appreciate her beauty, had a ready hand for +presents, made room by her side for the rich, and hardly vouchsafed her +poorer lovers a distant glance. Now and then, when her dress came a +little open by accident, I saw that she had on a massive gold necklace +heavier than a penal collar. That was enough for me; I would retrace my +steps, sincerely pitying the unfortunates whom she led by the—beard, +and their Ixion embracings of a phantom. + +_Pl_. You are right there; the door is not conspicuous, nor generally +known. However, we need not go to her house; we will wait for her here +in the Ceramicus. I should think it is near her hour for coming back +from the Academy, and taking her walk in the Poecile; she is very +regular; to be sure, here she comes. Do you see the orderly, rather +prim lady there, with the kindly look in her eyes, and the slow +meditative walk? + +_Lu_. I see several answering the description so far as looks and walk +and clothes go. Yet among them all the real lady Philosophy can be but +one. + +_Pl_. True; but as soon as she opens her lips you will know. + +_Philos_. Dear me, what are Plato and Chrysippus and Aristotle doing up +here, and the rest of them—a living dictionary of my teachings? Alive +again? how is this? have things been going wrong down there? you look +angry. And who is your prisoner? a rifler of tombs? A murderer? a +temple-robber? + +_Pl_. Worse yet, Philosophy. He has dared to slander your most sacred +self, and all of us who have been privileged to impart anything from +you to posterity. + +_Philos_. And did you lose your tempers over abusive words? Did you +forget how Comedy handled me at the Dionysia, and how I yet counted her +a friend? Did I ever sue her, or go and remonstrate? Or did I let her +enjoy her holidays in the harmless old-fashioned way? I know very well +that a jest spoils no real beauty, but rather improves it; so gold is +polished by hard rubs, and shines all the brighter for it. But you seem +to have grown passionate and censorious. Come, why are you strangling +him like that? + +_Pl_. We have got this one day's leave, and come after him to give him +his deserts. Rumours had reached us of the things he used to say about +us in his lectures. + +_Philos_. And are you going to kill him without a trial or a hearing? I +can see he wishes to say something. + +_Pl_. No; we decided to refer it all to you. If you will accept the +task, the decision shall be yours. + +_Philos_. Sir, what is your wish? + +_Lu_. The same, dear Mistress; for none but you can find the truth. It +cost me much entreaty to get the case reserved for you. + +_Pl_. You call her Mistress now, scoundrel; the other day you were +making out Philosophy the meanest of things, when before that great +audience you let her several doctrines go for a pitiful threepence +apiece. + +_Philos_. It may be that it was not Ourself he then reviled, but some +impostors who practised vile arts in our name. + +_Pl_. The truth will soon come to light, if you will hear his defence. + +_Philos_. Come we to the Areopagus—or better, to the Acropolis, where +the panorama of Athens will be before us. + +Ladies, will you stroll in the Poecile meanwhile? I will join you when +I have given judgement. + +_Lu_. Who are these, Philosophy? methinks their appearance is seemly as +your own. + +_Philos_. This with the masculine features is Virtue; then there is +Temperance, and Justice by her side. In front is Culture; and this +shadowy creature with the indefinite complexion is Truth. + +_Lu_. I do not see which you mean. + +_Philos_. Not see her? over there, all naked and unadorned, shrinking +from observation, and always slipping out of sight. + +_Lu_. Now I just discern her. But why not bring them all with you? +there would be a fullness and completeness about that commission. Ah +yes, and I should like to brief Truth on my behalf. + +_Philos_. Well thought of; come, all of you; you will not mind sitting +through a single case—in which we have a personal interest, too? + +_Truth_. Go on, the rest of you; it is superfluous for me to hear what +I know all about before. + +_Philos_. But, Truth dear, your presence will be useful to us; you will +show us what to think. + +_Truth_. May I bring my two favourite maids, then? + +_Philos_. And as many more as you like. + +_Truth_. Come with me, Freedom and Frankness; this poor little adorer +of ours is in trouble without any real reason; we shall be able to get +him out of it. Exposure, my man, we shall not want you. + +_Lu_. Ah yes, Mistress, let us have him, of all others; my opponents +are no ordinary ruffians; they are people who make a fine show and are +hard to expose; they have always some back way out of a difficulty; we +must have Exposure. + +_Philos_. Yes, we must, indeed; and you had better bring Demonstration +too. + +_Truth_. Come all of you, as you are such important legal persons. + +_Ar_. What is this? Philosophy, he is employing Truth against us! + +_Philos_. And are Plato and Chrysippus and Aristotle afraid of her +lying on his behalf, being who she is? + +_Pl_. Oh, well, no; only he is a sad plausible rogue; he will take her +in. + +_Philos_. Never fear; no wrong will be done, with madam Justice on the +bench by us. Let us go up. + +Prisoner, your name? + +_Lu_. Parrhesiades, son of Alethion, son of Elenxicles.* + +[Footnote: i.e. Free-speaker, son of Truthful, son of Exposure.] + + +_Philos_. And your country? + +_Lu_. I am a Syrian from the Euphrates, my lady. But is the question +relevant? Some of my accusers I know to be as much barbarians by blood +as myself; but character and culture do not vary as a man comes from +Soli or Cyprus, Babylon or Stagira. However, even one who could not +talk Greek would be none the worse in your eyes, so long as his +sentiments were right and just. + +_Philos_. True, the question was unnecessary. + +But what is your profession? that at least is essential. + +_Lu_. I profess hatred of pretension and imposture, lying, and pride; +the whole loathsome tribe of them I hate; and you know how numerous +they are. + +_Philos_. Upon my word, you must have your hands full at this +profession! + +_Lu_. I have; you see what general dislike and danger it brings upon +me. However, I do not neglect the complementary branch, in which love +takes the place of hate; it includes love of truth and beauty and +simplicity and all that is akin to love. But the subjects for this +branch of the profession are sadly few; those of the other, for whom +hatred is the right treatment, are reckoned by the thousand. Indeed +there is some danger of the one feeling being atrophied, while the +other is over-developed. + +_Philos_. That should not be; they run in couples, you know. Do not +separate your two branches; they should have unity in diversity. + +_Lu_. You know better than I, Philosophy. My way is just to hate a +villain, and love and praise the good. + +_Philos_. Well, well. Here we are at the appointed place. We will hold +the trial in the forecourt of Athene Polias. Priestess, arrange our +seats, while we salute the Goddess. + +_Lu_. Polias, come to my aid against these pretenders, mindful of the +daily perjuries thou hearest from them. Their deeds too are revealed to +thee alone, in virtue of thy charge. Thou hast now thine hour of +vengeance. If thou see me in evil case, if blacks be more than whites, +then cast thou thy vote and save me! + +_Philos_. So. Now we are seated, ready to hear your words. Choose one +of your number, the best accuser you may, make your charge, and bring +your proofs. Were all to speak, there would be no end. And you, +Parrhesiades, shall afterwards make your defence. + +_Ch_. Plato, none of us will conduct the prosecution better than you. +Your thoughts are heaven-high, your style the perfect Attic; grace and +persuasion, insight and subtlety, the cogency of well-ordered proof—all +these are gathered in you. Take the spokesman's office and say what is +fitting on our behalf. Call to memory and roll in one all that ever you +said against Gorgias, Polus, Hippias, Prodicus; you have now to do with +a worse than them. Let him taste your irony; ply him with your keen +incessant questions; and if you will, perorate with the mighty Zeus +charioting his winged car through Heaven, and grudging if this fellow +get not his deserts. + +_Pl_. Nay, nay; choose one of more strenuous temper—Diogenes, +Antisthenes, Crates, or yourself, Chrysippus. It is no time now for +beauty or literary skill; controversial and forensic resource is what +we want. This Parrhesiades is an orator. + +_Diog_. Let me be accuser; no need for long speeches here. Moreover, I +was the worst treated of all; threepence was my price the other day. + +_Pl_. Philosophy, Diogenes will speak for us. But mind, friend, you are +not to represent yourself alone, but think of us all. If we have any +private differences of doctrine, do not go into that; never mind now +which of us is right, but keep your indignation for Philosophy's wrongs +and the names he has called her. Leave alone the principles we differ +about, and maintain what is common to us all. Now mark, you stand for +us all; on you our whole fame depends; shall it come out majestic, or +in the semblance he has given it? + +_Diog_. Never fear; nothing shall be omitted; I speak for all. +Philosophy may be softened by his words—she was ever gentle and +forgiving—_she_ may be minded to acquit him; but the fault shall not be +mine; I will show him that our staves are more than ornaments. + +_Philos_. Nay, take not that way; words, not bludgeons; 'tis better so. +But no delay now; your time-allowance has begun; and the court is all +attention. + +_Lu_. Philosophy, let the rest take their seats and vote with you, +leaving Diogenes as sole accuser. + +_Philos_. Have you no fears of their condemning you? + +_Lu_. None whatever; I wish to increase my majority, that is all. + +_Philos_. I commend your spirit. Gentlemen, take your seats. Now, +Diogenes. + +_Diog_. With our lives on earth, Philosophy, you are acquainted; I need +not dwell long upon them. Of myself I say nothing; but Pythagoras, +Plato, Aristotle, Chrysippus, and the rest—who knows not the benefits +that they conferred on mankind? I will come at once, then, to the +insults to which we have been subjected by the thrice accursed +Parrhesiades. He was, by his own account, an advocate; but he has left +the courts and the fame there to be won, and has availed himself of all +the verbal skill and proficiency so acquired for a campaign of abuse +against us. We are impostors and deceivers; his audiences must ridicule +and scorn us for nobodies. Did I say 'nobodies'? he has made us an +abomination, rather, in the eyes of the vulgar, and yourself with us, +Philosophy. Your teachings are balderdash and rubbish; the noblest of +your precepts to us he parodies, winning for himself applause and +approval, and for us humiliation. For so it is with the great public; +it loves a master of flouts and jeers, and loves him in proportion to +the grandeur of what he assails; you know how it delighted long ago in +Aristophanes and Eupolis, when they caricatured our Socrates on the +stage, and wove farcical comedies around him. But they at least +confined themselves to a single victim, and they had the charter of +Dionysus; a jest might pass at holiday time, and the laughing God might +be well pleased. + +But this fellow gets together an upper-class audience, gives long +thought to his preparations, writes down his slanders in a thick +notebook, and uplifts his voice in vituperation of Plato, Pythagoras, +Aristotle, Chrysippus, and in short all of us; _he_ cannot plead +holiday time, nor yet any private grievance; he might perhaps be +forgiven if he had done it in self-defence; but it was he that opened +hostilities. Worst of all, Philosophy, he shelters himself under your +name, entices Dialogue from our company to be his ally and mouthpiece, +and induces our good comrade Menippus to collaborate constantly with +him; Menippus, more by token, is the one deserter and absentee on this +occasion. + +Does he not then abundantly deserve his fate? What conceivable defence +is open to him, after his public defamation of all that is noblest? On +the public which listened to him, too, the spectacle of his condign +punishment will have a healthy effect; we shall see no more ridicule of +Philosophy. Tame submission to insult would naturally enough be taken, +not for moderation, but for insensibility and want of spirit. Who could +be expected to put up with his last performance? He brought us to +market like a gang of slaves, and handed us over to the auctioneer. +Some, I believe, fetched high prices; but others went for four or five +pounds, and as for me—confound his impudence, threepence! And fine fun +the audience had out of it! We did well to be angry; we have come from +Hades; and we ask you to give us satisfaction for this abominable +outrage. + +_Resurgents_. Hear, hear! well spoken, Diogenes; well and loyally. + +_Philos_. Silence in court! Time the defence. Parrhesiades, it is now +your turn; they are timing you; so proceed. + +_Par_. Philosophy, Diogenes has been far indeed from exhausting his +material; the greater part of it, and the more strongly expressed, he +has passed by, for reasons best known to himself. I refer to statements +of mine which I am as far from denying that I made as from having +provided myself with any elaborate defence of them. Any of these that +have been omitted by him, and not previously emphasized by myself, I +propose now to quote; this will be the best way to show you who were +the persons that I sold by auction and inveighed against as pretenders +and impostors; please to concentrate your vigilance on the truth or +falsehood of my descriptions. If what I say is injurious or severe, +your censure will be more fairly directed at the perpetrators than at +the discoverer of such iniquities. I had no sooner realized the odious +practices which his profession imposes on an advocate—the deceit, +falsehood, bluster, clamour, pushing, and all the long hateful list, +than I fled as a matter of course from these, betook myself to your +dear service, Philosophy, and pleased myself with the thought of a +remainder of life spent far from the tossing waves in a calm haven +beneath your shadow. + +At my first peep into your realm, how could I but admire yourself and +all these your disciples? there they were, legislating for the perfect +life, holding out hands of help to those that would reach it, +commending all that was fairest and best; fairest and best—but a man +must keep straight on for it and never slip, must set his eyes +unwaveringly on the laws that you have laid down, must tune and test +his life thereby; and that, Zeus be my witness, there are few enough in +these days of ours to do. + +So I saw how many were in love, not with Philosophy, but with the +credit it brings; in the vulgar externals, so easy for any one to ape, +they showed a striking resemblance to the real article, perfect in +beard and walk and attire; but in life and conduct they belied their +looks, read your lessons backwards, and degraded their profession. Then +I was wroth; methought it was as though some soft womanish actor on the +tragic stage should give us Achilles or Theseus or Heracles himself; he +cannot stride nor speak out as a Hero should, but minces along under +his enormous mask; Helen or Polyxena would find him too realistically +feminine to pass for them; and what shall an invincible Heracles say? +Will he not swiftly pound man and mask together into nothingness with +his club, for womanizing and disgracing him? + +Well, these people were about as fit to represent you, and the +degradation of it all was too much for me. Apes daring to masquerade as +heroes! emulators of the ass at Cyme! The Cymeans, you know, had never +seen ass or lion; so the ass came the lion over them, with the aid of a +borrowed skin and his most awe-inspiring bray; however, a stranger who +had often seen both brought the truth to light with a stick. But what +most distressed me, Philosophy, was this: when one of these people was +detected in rascality, impropriety, or immorality, every one put it +down to philosophy, and to the particular philosopher whose name the +delinquent took in vain without ever acting on his principles; the +living rascal disgraced you, the long dead; for you were not there in +the flesh to point the contrast; so, as it was clear enough that _his_ +life was vile and disgusting, your case was given away by association +with his, and you had to share his disgrace. + +This spectacle, I say, was too much for me; I began exposing them, and +distinguishing between them and you; and for this good work you now +arraign me. So then, if I find one of the Initiated betraying and +parodying the Mysteries of the two Goddesses, and if I protest and +denounce him, the transgression will be mine? There is something wrong +there; why, at the Games, if an actor who has to present Athene or +Posidon or Zeus plays his part badly, derogating from the divine +dignity, the stewards have him whipped; well, the Gods are not angry +with them for having the officers whip the man who wears their mask and +their attire; I imagine they approve of the punishment. To play a slave +or a messenger badly is a trifling offence, but to represent Zeus or +Heracles to the spectators in an unworthy manner—that is a crime and a +sacrilege. + +I can indeed conceive nothing more extraordinary than that so many of +them should get themselves absolutely perfect in your words, and then +live precisely as if the sole object of reading and studying them had +been to reverse them in practice. All their professions of despising +wealth and appearances, of admiring nothing but what is noble, of +superiority to passion, of being proof against splendour, and +associating with its owners only on equal terms—how fair and wise and +laudable they all are! But they take pay for imparting them, they are +abashed in presence of the rich, their lips water at sight of coin; +they are dogs for temper, hares for cowardice, apes for imitativeness, +asses for lust, cats for thievery, cocks for jealousy. They are a +perfect laughing-stock with their strivings after vile ends, their +jostling of each other at rich men's doors, their attendance at crowded +dinners, and their vulgar obsequiousness at table. They swill more than +they should and would like to swill more than they do, they spoil the +wine with unwelcome and untimely disquisitions, and they cannot carry +their liquor. The ordinary people who are present naturally flout them, +and are revolted by the philosophy which breeds such brutes. + +What is so monstrous is that every man of them says he has no needs, +proclaims aloud that wisdom is the only wealth, and directly afterwards +comes begging and makes a fuss if he is refused; it would hardly be +stranger to see one in kingly attire, with tall tiara, crown, and all +the attributes of royalty, asking his inferiors for a little something +more. When they want to get something, we hear a great deal, to be +sure, about community of goods—how wealth is a thing indifferent—and +what is gold and silver?—neither more nor less worth than pebbles on +the beach. But when an old comrade and tried friend needs help and +comes to them with his modest requirements, ah, then there is silence +and searchings of heart, unlearning of tenets and flat renunciation of +doctrines. All their fine talk of friendship, with Virtue and The Good, +have vanished and flown, who knows whither? they were winged words in +sad truth, empty phantoms, only meant for daily conversational use. + +These men are excellent friends so long as there is no gold or silver +for them to dispute the possession of; exhibit but a copper or two, and +peace is broken, truce void, armistice ended; their books are blank, +their Virtue fled, and they so many dogs; some one has flung a bone +into the pack, and up they spring to bite each other and snarl at the +one which has pounced successfully. There is a story of an Egyptian +king who taught some apes the sword-dance; the imitative creatures very +soon picked it up, and used to perform in purple robes and masks; for +some time the show was a great success, till at last an ingenious +spectator brought some nuts in with him and threw them down. The apes +forgot their dancing at the sight, dropped their humanity, resumed +their apehood, and, smashing masks and tearing dresses, had a free +fight for the provender. Alas for the _corps de ballet_ and the gravity +of the audience! + +These people are just those apes; it is they that I reviled; and I +shall never cease exposing and ridiculing them; but about you and your +like—for there _are_, in spite of all, some true lovers of philosophy +and keepers of your laws—about you or them may I never be mad enough to +utter an injurious or rude word! Why, what could I find to say? what is +there in your lives that lends itself to such treatment? but those +pretenders deserve my detestation, as they have that of heaven. Why, +tell me, all of you, what have such creatures to do with you? Is there +a trace in their lives of kindred and affinity? Does oil mix with +water? If they grow their beards and call themselves philosophers and +look solemn, do these things make them like you? I could have contained +myself if there had been any touch of plausibility in their acting; but +the vulture is more like the nightingale than they like philosophers. +And now I have pleaded my cause to the best of my ability. Truth, I +rely upon you to confirm my words. + +_Philos_. Parrhesiades, retire to a further distance. Well, and our +verdict? How think you the man has spoken? + +_Truth_. Ah, Philosophy, while he was speaking I was ready to sink +through the ground; it was all so true. As I listened, I could identify +every offender, and I was fitting caps all the time—this is so-and-so, +that is the other man, all over. I tell you they were all as plain as +in a picture—speaking likenesses not of their bodies only, but of their +very souls. + +_Tem_. Yes, Truth, I could not help blushing at it. + +_Philos_. What say you, gentlemen? + +_Res_. Why, of course, that he is acquitted of the charge, and stands +recorded as our friend and benefactor. Our case is just that of the +Trojans, who entertained the tragic actor only to find him reciting +their own calamities. Well, recite away, our tragedian, with these +pests of ours for dramatis personae. + +_Diog_. I too, Philosophy, give him my need of praise; I withdraw my +charges, and count him a worthy friend. + +_Philos_. I congratulate you, Parrhesiades; you are unanimously +acquitted, and are henceforth one of us. + +_Par_. Your humble servant. Or no, I must find more tragic words to fit +the solemnity of the occasion: + + Victorious might + My life's path light, + And ever strew with garlands bright! + + +_Vir_. Well, now we come to our second course; let us have in the other +people and try them for their insults. Parrhesiades shall accuse them +each in turn. + +_Par_. Well said, Virtue. Syllogism, my boy, put your head out over the +city and summon the philosophers. + +_Syl_. Oyez, oyez! All philosophers to the Acropolis to make their +defence before Virtue, Philosophy, and Justice. + +_Par_. The proclamation does not bring them in flocks, does it? They +have their reasons for keeping clear of Justice. And a good many of +them are too busy with their rich friends. If you want them all to +come, Syllogism, I will tell you what to say. + +_Philos_. No, no; call them yourself, Parrhesiades, in your own way. + +_Par_. Quite a simple matter. Oyez, oyez! All who profess philosophy +and hold themselves entitled to the name of philosopher shall appear on +the Acropolis for largesse; 8 pounds, with a sesame cake, to each. A +long beard shall qualify for a square of compressed figs, in addition. +Every applicant to have with him, of temperance, justice, and +self-control, any that he is in possession of, it being clearly +understood that these are not indispensable, and, of syllogisms, a +complete set of five, these being the condition precedent of wisdom. + + Two golden talents in the midst are set, + His prize who wrangles best amongst his peers. + + +Just look! the ascent packed with a pushing crowd, at the very first +sound of my 8 pounds. More of them along the Pelasgicum, more by the +temple of Asclepius, a bigger crowd still over the Areopagus. Why, +positively there are a few at the tomb of Talos; and see those putting +ladders against the temple of Castor and Pollux; up they climb, buzzing +and clustering like a swarm of bees. In Homeric phrase, on this side +are exceeding many, and on that + +Ten thousand, thick as leaves and flowers in spring. + + +Noisily they settle, the Acropolis is covered with them in a trice; +everywhere wallet and beard, flattery and effrontery, staves and greed, +logic and avarice. The little company which came up at the first +proclamation is swamped beyond recovery, swallowed up in these later +crowds; it is hopeless to find them, because of the external +resemblance. That is the worst of it, Philosophy; you are really open +to censure for not marking and labelling them; these impostors are +often more convincing than the true philosophers. + +_Philos_. It shall be done before long; at present let us receive them. + +_Platon_. Platonists first! + +_Pyth_. No, no; Pythagoreans first; our master is senior. + +_Stoics_. Rubbish! the Porch is the best. + +_Peri_. Now, now, this is a question of money; Peripatetics first +there! + +_Epic_. Hand over those cakes and fig-squares; as to the money, +Epicureans will not mind waiting till the last. + +_Acad_. Where are the two talents? none can touch the Academy at a +wrangle; we will soon show you that. + +_Stoics_. Not if we know it. + +_Philos_. Cease your strife. Cynics there, no more pushing! And keep +those sticks quiet. You have mistaken the nature of this summons. We +three, Philosophy, Virtue, and Truth, are about to decide which are the +true philosophers; that done, those whose lives are found to be in +accord with our pleasure will be made happy by our award; but the +impostors who are not truly of our kin we shall crush as they deserve, +that they may no more make vain claims to what is too high for them. +Ha! you fly? In good truth they do, jumping down the crags, most of +them. Why, the Acropolis is deserted, except for—yes, a few have stood +their ground and are not afraid of the judgement. + +Attendants, pick up the wallet which yonder flying Cynic has dropped. +Let us see what it contains—beans? a book? some coarse crust? + +_Par_. Oh dear no. Here is gold; some scent; a mirror; dice. + +_Philos_. Ah, good honest man! such were his little necessaries for the +philosophic life, such his title to indulge in general abuse and +instruct his neighbours. + +_Par_. There you have them. The problem before you is, how the general +ignorance is to be dispersed, and other people enabled to discriminate +between the genuine and the other sort. Find the solution, Truth; for +indeed it concerns you; Falsehood must not prevail; shall Ignorance +shield the base while they counterfeit the good, and you never know it? + +_Truth_. I think we had better give Parrhesiades this commission; he +has been shown an honest man, our friend and your true admirer, +Philosophy. Let him take Exposure with him and have interviews with all +who profess philosophy; any genuine scion that he finds let him crown +with olive and entertain in the Banqueting Hall; and for the +rascals—ah, how many!—who are only costume philosophers, let him pull +their cloaks off them, clip their beards short with a pair of common +goatshears, and mark their foreheads or brand them between the +eyebrows; the design on the branding iron to be a fox or an ape. + +_Philos_. Well planned, Truth. And, Parrhesiades, here is a test for +you; you know how young eagles are supposed to be tested by the sun; +well, our candidates have not got to satisfy us that they can look at +light, of course; but put gold, fame, and pleasure before their eyes; +when you see one remain unconscious and unattracted, there is your man +for the olive; but when one looks hard that way, with a motion of his +hand in the direction of the gold, first off with his beard, and then +off with him to the brander. + +_Par_. I will follow your instructions, Philosophy; you will soon find +a large majority ornamented with fox or ape, and very few with olive. +If you like, though, I will get some of them up here for you to see. + +_Philos_. What do you mean? bring them back after that stampede? + +_Par_. Oh yes, if the priestess will lend me the line I see there and +the Piraean fisherman's votive hook; I will not keep them long. + +_Priestess_. You can have them; and the rod to complete the equipment. + +_Par_. Thanks; now quickly, please, a few dried figs and a handful of +gold. + +_Priestess_. There. + +_Philos_. What _is_ all this about? + +_Priestess_. He has baited his hook with the figs and gold, and is +sitting on the parapet dangling it over the city. + +_Philos_. What _are_ you doing, Parrhesiades? do you think you are +going to fish up stones from the Pelasgicum? + +_Par_. Hush! I wait till I get a bite. Posidon, the fisherman's friend, +and you, dear Amphitrite, send me good fishing! + +Ah, a fine bass; no, it is not; it is a gilthead. + +_Expo_. A shark, you mean; there, see, he is getting near the hook, +open-mouthed too. He scents the gold; now he is close—touching—he has +it; up with him! + +_Par_. Give me a hand with the line, Exposure; here he is. Now, my best +of fishes, what do we make of you? _Salmo Cynicus_, that is what _you_ +are. Good gracious, what teeth! Aha, my brave fish, caught snapping up +trifles in the rocks, where you thought you could lurk unobserved? But +now you shall hang by the gills for every one to look at you. Pull out +hook and bait. Why, the hook is bare; he has not been long assimilating +the figs, eh? and the gold has gone down too. + +_Diog_. Make him disgorge; we want the bait for some more. + +_Par_. There, then. Now, Diogenes, do you know who it is? has the +fellow anything to do with you? + +_Diog_. Nothing whatever. + +_Par_. Well, what do you put him at? threepence was the price fixed the +other day. + +_Diog_. Too much. His flavour and his looks are intolerable—a coarse +worthless brute. Drop him head first over the rock, and catch another. +But take care your rod does not bend to breaking point. + +_Par_. No fear; they are quite light—about the weight of a gudgeon. + +_Diog_. About the weight and about the wit. However, up with them. + +_Par_. Look; what is this one? a sole? flat as a plate, thin as one of +his own fillets; he gapes for the hook; down it goes; we have him; up +he comes. + +_Diog_. What is he? + +_Expo_. His plateship would be a Platonist. + +_Pl_. You too after the gold, villain? + +_Par_. Well, Plato? what shall we do with him? + +_Pl_. Off with him from the same rock. + +_Diog_. Try again. + +_Par_. Ah, here is a lovely one coming, as far as one can judge in deep +water, all the colours of the rainbow, with gold bars across the back. +Do you see, Exposure? this is the sham Aristotle. There he is; no, he +has shied. He is having a good look round; here he comes again; his +jaws open; caught! haul up. + +_Ar_. You need not apply to me; I do not know him. + +_Par_. Very well, Aristotle; over he goes. + +Hullo! I see a whole school of them together, all one colour, and +covered with spines and horny scales, as tempting to handle as a +hedgehog. We want a net for these; but we have not got one. Well, it +will do if we pull up one out of the lot. The boldest of them will no +doubt try the hook. + +_Expo_. You had better sheathe a good bit of the line before you let it +down; else he will gorge the gold and then saw the line through. + +_Par_. There it goes. Posidon grant me a quick catch! There now! they +are fighting for the bait, a lot of them together nibbling at the figs, +and others with their teeth well in the gold. That is right; one +soundly hooked. Now let me see, what do _you_ call yourself? And yet +how absurd to try and make a fish speak; they are dumb. Exposure, tell +us who is his master, + +_Expo_. Chrysippus. + +_Par_. Ah, he must have a master with gold in his name, must he? +Chrysippus, tell me seriously, do you know these men? are you +responsible for the way they live? + +_Ch_. My dear Parrhesiades, I take it ill that you should suggest any +connexion between me and such creatures. + +_Par_. Quite right, and like you. Over he goes head first like the +others; if one tried to eat him, those spines might stick in one's +throat. + +_Philos_. You have fished long enough, Parrhesiades; there are so many +of them, one might get away with gold, hook and all, and you have the +priestess to pay. Let us go for our usual stroll; and for all you it is +time to be getting back to your place, if you are not to outstay your +leave. Parrhesiades, you and Exposure can go the rounds now, and crown +or brand as I told you. + +_Par_. Good, Philosophy. Farewell, ye best of men. Come, Exposure, to +our commission. Where shall we go first? the Academy, do you think, or +the Porch? + +_Expo_. We will begin with the Lyceum. + +_Par_. Well, it makes no difference. I know well enough that wherever +we go there will be few crowns wanted, and a good deal of branding. + +H. + + + +VOYAGE TO THE LOWER WORLD + +_Charon. Clotho. Hermes. Shades. Rhadamanthus. Tisiphone. Lamp. Bed_ + +_Cha_. You see how it is, Clotho; here has all been ship-shape and +ready for a start this long time; the hold baled out, the mast stepped, +the sail hoisted, every oar in its rowlock; it is no fault of mine that +we don't weigh anchor and sail. 'Tis Hermes keeps us; he should have +been here long ago. Not a passenger on board, as you may see; and we +might have made the trip three times over by this. Evening is coming on +now; and never a penny taken all day! I know how it will be: Pluto will +think _I_ have been wanting to my work. It is not I that am to blame, +but our fine gentleman of a supercargo. He is just like any mortal: he +has taken a drink of their Lethe up there, and forgotten to come back +to us. He'll be wrestling with the lads, or playing on his lyre, or +giving his precious gift of the gab a good airing; or he's off after +plunder, the rascal, for what I know: 'tis all in the day's work with +him. He is getting too independent: he ought to remember that he +belongs to us, one half of him. + +_Clo_. Well, well, Charon; perhaps he has been busy: Zeus may have had +some particular occasion for his services in the upper world; _he_ has +the use of him too, remember. + +_Cha_. That doesn't say that he should make use of him beyond what's +reasonable. Hermes is common property. We have never kept him here when +he was due to go. No, I know what it is. In these parts of ours all is +mist and gloom and darkness, and nothing to be had but asphodel and +libations and sacrificial cakes and meats. Yonder in Heaven, all's +bright, with plenty of ambrosia, and no end of nectar. Small wonder +that he likes to loiter there. When he leaves us, 'tis on wings; it is +as though he escaped from prison. But when the time comes for return, +he tramps it on foot, and has much ado to get here at all. + +_Clo_. Well, never mind now; here he comes, look, and a fine host of +passengers with him; a fine flock, rather; he hustles them along with +his staff like so many goats. But what's this? One of them is bound, +and another enjoying the joke; and there is one with a wallet slung +beside him, and a stick in his hand; a cantankerous-looking fellow; he +keeps the rest moving. And just look at Hermes! Bathed in perspiration, +and his feet covered with dust! See how he pants; he is quite out of +breath. What is the matter, Hermes? Tell us all about it; you seem +disturbed. + +_Her_. The matter is that this rascal ran away; I had to go after him, +and had well nigh played you false for this trip, I can tell you. + +_Clo_. Why, who is he? What did he want to run away for? + +_Her_. His motive is sufficiently clear: he had a preference for +remaining alive. He is some king or tyrant, as I gather from his +piteous allusions to blessedness no longer his. + +_Clo_. And the fool actually tried to run away, and thought to prolong +his life when the thread of Fate was exhausted? + +_Her_. Tried! He would have got clean away, but for that capital fellow +there with the club; he gave me a hand, and we caught and bound him. +The whole way along, from the moment that Atropus handed him over to +me, he dragged and hung back, and dug his heels into the ground: it was +no easy work getting him along. Every now and then he would take to +prayers and entreaties: Would I let him go just for a few minutes? he +would make it worth my while. Of course I was not going to do that; it +was out of the question.—Well, we had actually got to the very pit's +mouth, when somehow or other this double-dyed knave managed to slip +off, whilst I was telling over the Shades to Aeacus, as usual, and he +checking them by your sister's invoice. The consequence was, we were +one short of tally. Aeacus raised his eyebrows. 'Hermes,' he said, +'everything in its right place: no larcenous work here, please. You +play enough of those tricks in Heaven. We keep strict accounts here: +nothing escapes us. The invoice says 1,004; there it is in black and +white. You have brought me one short, unless you say that Atropus was +too clever for you.' I coloured up at that; and then all at once I +remembered what had happened on the way, and when I looked round and +this fellow was nowhere to be seen, I knew that he must have made off, +and I set off after him along the road to the upper world, as fast as I +could go. My worthy friend here volunteered for the service; so we made +a race of it, and caught the runaway just as he got to Taenarum! It was +a near thing. + +_Clo_. There now, Charon! And we were beginning to accuse Hermes of +neglect. + +_Cha_. Well, and why are we waiting here, as if there had not been +enough delay already? + +_Clo_. True. Let them come aboard. I'll to my post by the gangway, with +my notebook, and take their names and countries as they come up, and +details of their deaths; and you can stow them away as you get +them.—Hermes, let us have those babies in first; I shall get nothing +out of them. + +_Her_. Here, skipper. Three hundred of them, including those that were +exposed. + +_Cha_. A precious haul, on my word!—These are but green grapes, Hermes. + +_Her_. Who next, Clotho? The Unwept? + +_Clo_. Ah! I take you.—Yes, up with the old fellows. I have no time +to-day for prehistoric research. All over sixty, pass on! What's the +matter with them? They don't hear me; they are deaf with age. I think +you will have to pick them up, like the babies, and get them along that +way. + +_Her_. Here they are; fine well-matured fruit, gathered in due season; +three hundred and ninety-eight of them. + +_Cha_. Nay, nay; these are no better than raisins. + +_Clo_. Bring up the wounded next, Hermes. _Now_ I can get to work. Tell +me how you were killed. Or no; I had better look at my notes, and call +you over. Eighty-four due to be killed in battle yesterday, in Mysia, +These to include Gobares, son of Oxyartes. + +_Her_. Adsunt. + +_Clo_. The seven who killed themselves for love. Also Theagenes, the +philosopher, for love of the Megarian courtesan. + +_Her_. Here they are, look. + +_Clo_. And the rival claimants to thrones, who slew one another? + +_Her_. Here! + +_Clo_. And the one murdered by his wife and her paramour? + +_Her_. Straight in front of you. + +_Clo_. Now the victims of the law,—the cudgelled and the crucified. And +where are those sixteen who were killed by robbers? + +_Her_. Here; you may know them by their wounds. Am I to bring the women +too? + +_Clo_. Yes, certainly; and all who were shipwrecked; it is the same +kind of death. And those who died of fever, bring them too, the doctor +Agathocles and all. Then there was a Cynic philosopher, who was to have +succumbed to a dinner with Dame Hecate, eked out with sacrificial eggs +and a raw cuttlefish; where is he? + +_Cy_. Here I stand this long time, my good Clotho.—Now what had I done +to deserve such a weary spell of life? You gave me pretty nearly a +spindleful of it. I often tried to cut the thread and away; but somehow +it never would give. + +_Clo_. I left you as a censor and physician of human frailties; pass +on, and good luck to you. + +_Cy_. No, by Zeus! First let us see our captive safe on board. Your +judgement might be perverted by his entreaties. + +_Clo_. Let me see; who is he? + +_Her_. Megapenthes, son of Lacydes; tyrant. + +_Clo_. Come up, Megapenthes. + +_Me_. Nay, nay, my lady Clotho; suffer me to return for a little while, +and I will come of my own accord, without waiting to be summoned. + +_Clo_. What do you want to go for? + +_Me_. I crave permission to complete my palace; I left the building +half-finished. + +_Clo_. Pooh! Come along. + +_Me_. Oh Fate, I ask no long reprieve. Vouchsafe me this one day, that +I may inform my wife where my great treasure lies buried. + +_Clo_. Impossible. 'Tis Fate's decree. + +_Me_. And all that money is to be thrown away? + +_Clo_. Not thrown away. Be under no uneasiness. Your cousin Megacles +will take charge of it. + +_Me_. Oh, monstrous! My enemy, whom from sheer good nature I omitted to +put to death? + +_Clo_. The same. He will survive you for rather more than forty years; +in the full enjoyment of your harem, your wardrobe, and your treasure. + +_Me_. It is too bad of you, Clotho, to hand over my property to my +worst enemy. + +_Clo_. My dear sir, it was Cydimachus's property first, surely? You +only succeeded to it by murdering him, and butchering his children +before his eyes. + +_Me_. Yes, but it was mine after that. + +_Clo_. Well, and now your term of possession expires. + +_Me_. A word in your ear, madam; no one else must hear this.—Sirs, +withdraw for a space.—Clotho, if you will let me escape, I pledge +myself to give you a quarter of a million sterling this very day. + +_Clo_. Ha, ha! So your millions are still running in your head? + +_Me_. Shall I throw in the two mixing-bowls that I got by the murder of +Cleocritus? They weigh a couple of tons apiece; refined gold! + +_Clo_. Drag him up. We shall never get him to come on board by himself. + +_Me_. I call you all to witness! My city-wall, my docks, remain +unfinished. I only wanted five days more to complete them. + +_Clo_. Never mind. It will be another's work now. + +_Me_. Stay! One request I can make with a clear conscience. + +_Clo_. Well? + +_Me_. Suffer me only to complete the conquest of Persia; … and to +impose tribute on Lydia; … and erect a colossal monument to myself, … +and inscribe thereon the military achievements of my life. Then let me +die. + +_Clo_. Creature, this is no single day's reprieve: you would want +something like twenty years. + +_Me_. Oh, but I am quite prepared to give security for my expeditious +return. Nay, I could provide a substitute, if preferred—my +well-beloved! + +_Clo_. Wretch! How often have you prayed that he might survive you! + +_Me_. That was a long time ago. Now,—I see a better use for him. + +_Clo_. But he is due to be here, shortly, let me tell you. He is to be +put to death by the new sovereign. + +_Me_. Well, Clotho, I hope you will not refuse my last request. + +_Clo_. Which is? + +_Me_. I should like to know how things will be, now that I am gone. + +_Clo_. Certainly; you shall have that mortification. Your wife will +pass into the hands of Midas, your slave; he has been her gallant for +some time past. + +_Me_. A curse on him! 'Twas at her request that I gave him his freedom. + +_Clo_. Your daughter will take her place in the harem of the present +monarch. Then all the old statues and portraits which the city set up +in your honour will be overturned,—to the entertainment, no doubt, of +the spectators. + +_Me_. And will no friend resent these doings? + +_Clo_. Who was your friend? Who had any reason to be? Need I explain +that the cringing courtiers who lauded your every word and deed were +actuated either by hope or by fear—time-servers every man of them, with +a keen eye to the main chance? + +_Me_. And these are they whose feasts rang with my name! who, as they +poured their libations, invoked every blessing on my head! Not one but +would have died before me, could he have had his will; nay, they swore +by no other name. + +_Clo_. Yes; and you dined with one of them yesterday, and it cost you +your life. It was that last cup you drank that brought you here. + +_Me_. Ah, I noticed a bitter taste.—But what was his object? + +_Clo_. Oh, you want to know too much. It is high time you came on +board. + +_Me_. Clotho, I had a particular reason for desiring one more glimpse +of daylight. I have a burning grievance! + +_Clo_. And what is that? Something of vast importance, I make no doubt. + +_Me_. It is about my slave Carion. The moment he knew of my death, he +came up to the room where I lay; it was late in the evening; he had +plenty of time in front of him, for not a soul was watching by me; he +brought with him my concubine Glycerium (an old affair, this, I +suspect), closed the door, and proceeded to take his pleasure with her, +as if no third person had been in the room! Having satisfied the +demands of passion, he turned his attention to me. 'You little +villain,' he cried, 'many's the flogging I've had from you, for no +fault of mine!' And as he spoke he plucked out my hair and smote me on +the face. 'Away with you,' he cried finally, spitting on me, 'away to +the place of the damned!'—and so withdrew. I burned with resentment: +but there I lay stark and cold, and could do nothing. That baggage +Glycerium, too, hearing footsteps approaching, moistened her eyes and +pretended she had been weeping for me; and withdrew sobbing, and +repeating my name.—If I could but get hold of them— + +_Clo_. Never mind what you would do to them, but come on board. The +hour is at hand when you must appear before the tribunal. + +_Me_. And who will presume to give his vote against a tyrant? + +_Clo_. Against a tyrant, who indeed? Against a Shade, Rhadamanthus will +take that liberty. He is strictly impartial, as you will presently +observe, in adapting his sentences to the requirements of individual +cases. And now, no more delay. + +_Me_. Dread Fate, let me be some common man,—some pauper! I have been a +king,—let me be a slave! Only let me live! + +_Clo_. Where is the one with the stick? Hermes, you and he must drag +him up feet foremost. He will never come up by himself. + +_Her_. Come along, my runagate. Here you are, skipper. And I say, keep +an eye— + +_Cha_. Never fear. We'll lash him to the mast. + +_Me_. Look you, I must have the seat of honour. + +_Clo_. And why exactly? + +_Me_. Can you ask? Was I not a tyrant, with a guard of ten thousand +men? + +_Cy_. Oh, dullard! And you complain of Carion's pulling your hair! Wait +till you get a taste of this stick; you shall know what it is to be a +tyrant. + +_Me_. What, shall a Cynic dare to raise his staff against me? Sirrah, +have you forgotten the other day, when I had all but nailed you to the +cross, for letting that sharp censorious tongue of yours wag too +freely? + +_Cynic_. Well, and now it is your turn to be nailed,—to the mast. + +_Mi_. And what of me, mistress? Am I to be left out of the reckoning? +Because I am poor, must I be the last to come aboard? + +_Clo_. Who are you? + +_Mi_. Micyllus the cobbler. + +_Clo_. A cobbler, and cannot wait your turn? Look at the tyrant: see +what bribes he offers us, only for a short reprieve. It is very strange +that delay is not to your fancy too. + +_Mi_. It is this way, my lady Fate. I find but cold comfort in that +promise of the Cyclops: 'Outis shall be eaten last,' said he; but first +or last, the same teeth are waiting. And then, it is not the same with +me as with the rich. Our lives are what they call 'diametrically +opposed.' This tyrant, now, was thought happy while he lived; he was +feared and respected by all: he had his gold and his silver; his fine +clothes and his horses and his banquets; his smart pages and his +handsome ladies,—and had to leave them all. No wonder if he was vexed, +and felt the tug of parting. For I know not how it is, but these things +are like birdlime: a man's soul sticks to them, and will not easily +come away; they have grown to be a part of him. Nay, 'tis as if men +were bound in some chain that nothing can break; and when by sheer +force they are dragged away, they cry out and beg for mercy. They are +bold enough for aught else, but show them this same road to Hades, and +they prove to be but cowards. They turn about, and must ever be looking +back at what they have left behind them, far off though it be,—like men +that are sick for love. So it was with the fool yonder: as we came +along, he was for running away; and now he tires you with his +entreaties. As for me, I had no stake in life; lands and horses, money +and goods, fame, statues,—I had none of them; I could not have been in +better trim: it needed but one nod from Atropus,—I was busied about a +boot at the time, but down I flung knife and leather with a will, +jumped up, and never waited to get my shoes, or wash the blacking from +my hands, but joined the procession there and then, ay, and headed it, +looking ever forward; I had left nothing behind me that called for a +backward glance. And, on my word, things begin to look well already. +Equal rights for all, and no man better than his neighbour; that is +hugely to my liking. And from what I can learn there is no collecting +of debts in this country, and no taxes; better still, no shivering in +winter, no sickness, no hard knocks from one's betters. All is peace. +The tables are turned: the laugh is with us poor men; it is the rich +that make moan, and are ill at ease. + +_Clo_. To be sure, I noticed that you were laughing, some time ago. +What was it in particular that excited your mirth? + +_Mi_. I'll tell you, best of Goddesses. Being next door to a tyrant up +there, I was all eyes for what went on in his house; and he seemed to +me neither more nor less than a God. I saw the embroidered purple, the +host of courtiers, the gold, the jewelled goblets, the couches with +their feet of silver: and I thought, this is happiness. As for the +sweet savour that arose when his dinner was getting ready, it was too +much for me; such blessedness seemed more than human. And then his +proud looks and stately walk and high carriage, striking admiration +into all beholders! It seemed almost as if he must be handsomer than +other men, and a good eighteen inches taller. But when he was dead, he +made a queer figure, with all his finery gone; though I laughed more at +myself than at him: there had I been worshipping mere scum on no better +authority than the smell of roast meat, and reckoning happiness by the +blood of Lacedaemonian sea-snails! There was Gniphon the usurer, too, +bitterly reproaching himself for having died without ever knowing the +taste of wealth, leaving all his money to his nearest relation and +heir-at-law, the spendthrift Rhodochares, when he might have had the +enjoyment of it himself. When I saw him, I laughed as if I should never +stop: to think of him as he used to be, pale, wizened, with a face full +of care, his fingers the only rich part of him, for they had the +talents to count,—scraping the money together bit by bit, and all to be +squandered in no time by that favourite of Fortune, Rhodochares!—But +what are we waiting for now? There will be time enough on the voyage to +enjoy their woebegone faces, and have our laugh out. + +_Clo_. Come on board, and then the ferryman can haul up the anchor. + +_Cha_. Now, now! What are you doing here? The boat is full. You wait +till to-morrow. We can bring you across in the morning. + +_Mi_. What right have you to leave me behind,—a shade of twenty-four +hours' standing? I tell you what it is, I shall have you up before +Rhadamanthus. A plague on it, she's moving! And here I shall be left +all by myself. Stay, though: why not swim across in their wake? No +matter if I get tired; a dead man will scarcely be drowned. Not to +mention that I have not a penny to pay my fare. + +_Clo_. Micyllus! Stop! You must not come across that way; Heaven +forbid! + +_Mi_. Ha, ha! I shall get there first, and I shouldn't wonder. + +_Clo_. This will never do. We must get to him, and pick him up…. +Hermes, give him a hand up. + +_Cha_. And where is he to sit now he is here? We are full up, as you +may see. + +_Her_. What do you say to the tyrant's shoulders? + +_Clo_. A good idea that. + +_Cha_. Up with you then; and make the rascal's back ache. And now, good +luck to our voyage! + +_Cy_. Charon, I may as well tell you the plain truth at once. The penny +for my fare is not forthcoming; I have nothing but my wallet, look, and +this stick. But if you want a hand at baling, here I am; or I could +take an oar; only give me a good stout one, and you shall have no fault +to find with me. + +_Cha_. To it, then; and I'll ask no other payment of you. + +_Cy_. Shall I tip them a stave? + +_Cha_. To be sure, if you have a sea-song about you. + +_Cy_. I have several. Look here though, an opposition is starting: a +song of lamentation. It will throw me out. + +_Sh_. Oh, my lands, my lands!—Ah, my money, my money!—Farewell, my fine +palace!—The thousands that fellow will have to squander!—Ah, my +helpless children!—To think of the vines I planted last year! Who, ah +who, will pluck the grapes?—- + +_Her_. Why, Micyllus, have _you_ never an Oh or an Ah? It is quite +improper that any shade should cross the stream, and make no moan. + +_Mi_. Get along with you. What have I to do with Ohs and Ahs? I'm +enjoying the trip! + +_Her_. Still, just a groan or two. It's expected. + +_Mi_. Well, if I must, here goes.—Farewell, leather, farewell! Ah, +Soles, old Soles!—Oh, ancient Boots!—Woe's me! Never again shall I sit +empty from morn till night; never again walk up and down, of a winter's +day, naked, unshod, with chattering teeth! My knife, my awl, will be +another's: whose, ah! whose? + +_Her_. Yes, that will do. We are nearly there. + +_Cha_. Wait a bit! Fares first, please. Your fare, Micyllus; every one +else has paid; one penny. + +_Mi_. You don't expect to get a penny out of the poor cobbler? You're +joking, Charon; or else this is what they call a 'castle in the air.' I +know not whether your penny is square or round. + +_Cha_. A fine paying trip this, I must say! However,—all ashore! I must +fetch the horses, cows, dogs, and other livestock. Their turn comes +now. + +_Clo_. You can take charge of them for the rest of the way, Hermes. I +am crossing again to see after the Chinamen, Indopatres and +Heramithres. They have been fighting about boundaries, and have killed +one another by this time. + +_Her_. Come, shades, let us get on;—follow me, I mean, in single file. + +_Mi_. Bless me, how dark it is! Where is handsome Megillus _now_? There +would be no telling Simmiche from Phryne. All complexions are alike +here, no question of beauty, greater or less. Why, the cloak I thought +so shabby before passes muster here as well as royal purple; the +darkness hides both alike. Cyniscus, whereabouts are you? + +_Cy_. Use your ears; here I am. We might walk together. What do you +say? + +_Mi_. Very good; give me your hand.—I suppose you have been admitted to +the mysteries at Eleusis? That must have been something like this, I +should think? + +_Cy_. Pretty much. Look, here comes a torch-bearer; a grim, forbidding +dame. A Fury, perhaps? + +_Mi_. She looks like it, certainly. + +_Her_. Here they are, Tisiphone. One thousand and four. + +_Ti_. It is time we had them. Rhadamanthus has been waiting. + +_Rhad_. Bring them up, Tisiphone. Hermes, you call out their names as +they are wanted. + +_Cy_. Rhadamanthus, as you love your father Zeus, have me up first for +examination. + +_Rhad_. Why? + +_Cy_. There is a certain shade whose misdeeds on earth I am anxious to +denounce. And if my evidence is to be worth anything, you must first be +satisfied of my own character and conduct. + +_Rhad_. Who are you? + +_Cy_. Cyniscus, your worship; a student of philosophy. + +_Rhad_. Come up for judgement; I will take you first. Hermes, summon +the accusers. + +_Her_. If any one has an accusation to bring against Cyniscus here +present, let him come forward. + +_Cy_. No one stirs! + +_Rhad_. Ah, but that is not enough, my friend. Off with your clothes; I +must have a look at your brands. + +_Cy_. Brands? Where will you find them? + +_Rhad_. Never yet did mortal man sin, but he carried about the secret +record thereof, branded on his soul. + +_Cy_. Well, here I am stripped. Now for the 'brands.' + +_Rhad_. Clean from head to heel, except three or four very faint marks, +scarcely to be made out. Ah! what does this mean? Here is place after +place that tells of the iron; all rubbed out apparently, or cut out. +How do you explain this, Cyniscus? How did you get such a clean skin +again? + +_Cy_. Why, in old days, when I knew no better, I lived an evil life, +and acquired thereby a number of brands. But from the day that I began +to practise philosophy, little by little I washed out all the scars +from my soul,—thanks to the efficiency of that admirable lotion. + +_Rhad_. Off with you then to the Isles of the Blest, and the excellent +company you will find there. But we must have your impeachment of the +tyrant before you go. Next shade, Hermes! + +_Mi_. Mine is a very small affair, too, Rhadamanthus; I shall not keep +you long. I have been stripped all this time; so do take me next. + +_Rhad_. And who may you be? + +_Mi_. Micyllus the cobbler. + +_Rhad_. Very well, Micyllus. As clean as clean could be; not a mark +anywhere. You may join Cyniscus. Now the Tyrant. + +_Her_. Megapenthes, son of Lacydes, wanted! Where are you off to? This +way! You there, the Tyrant! Up with him, Tisiphone, neck and crop. + +_Rhad_. Now, Cyniscus, your accusation and your proofs. Here is the +party. + +_Cy_. There is in fact no need of an accusation. You will very soon +know the man by the marks upon him. My words however may serve to +unveil him, and to show his character in a clearer light. With the +conduct of this monster as a private citizen, I need not detain you. +Surrounded with a bodyguard, and aided by unscrupulous accomplices, he +rose against his native city, and established a lawless rule. The +persons put to death by him without trial are to be counted by +thousands, and it was the confiscation of their property that gave him +his enormous wealth. Since then, there is no conceivable iniquity which +he has not perpetrated. His hapless fellow-citizens have been subjected +to every form of cruelty and insult. Virgins have been seduced, boys +corrupted, the feelings of his subjects outraged in every possible way. +His overweening pride, his insolent bearing towards all who had to do +with him, were such as no doom of yours can adequately requite. A man +might with more security have fixed his gaze upon the blazing sun, than +upon yonder tyrant. As for the refined cruelty of his punishments, it +baffles description; and not even his familiars were exempt. That this +accusation has not been brought without sufficient grounds, you may +easily satisfy yourself, by summoning the murderer's victims.—Nay, they +need no summons; see, they are here; they press round as though they +would stifle him. Every man there, Rhadamanthus, fell a prey to his +iniquitous designs. Some had attracted his attention by the beauty of +their wives; others by their resentment at the forcible abduction of +their children; others by their wealth; others again by their +understanding, their moderation, and their unvarying disapproval of his +conduct. + +_Rhad_. Villain, what have you to say to this? + +_Me_. I committed the murders referred to. As for the rest, the +adulteries and corruptions and seductions, it is all a pack of lies. + +_Cy_. I can bring witnesses to these points too, Rhadamanthus. + +_Rhad_. Witnesses, eh? + +_Cy_. Hermes, kindly summon his Lamp and Bed. They will appear in +evidence, and state what they know of his conduct. + +_Her_. Lamp and Bed of Megapenthes, come into court. Good, they respond +to the summons. + +_Rhad_. Now, tell us all you know about Megapenthes. Bed, you speak +first. + +_Bed_. All that Cyniscus said is true. But really, Mr. Rhadamanthus, I +don't quite like to speak about it; such strange things used to happen +overhead. + +_Rhad_. Why, your unwillingness to speak is the most telling evidence +of all!—Lamp, now let us have yours. + +_Lamp_. What went on in the daytime I never saw, not being there. As +for his doings at night, the less said the better. I saw some very +queer things, though, monstrous queer. Many is the time I have stopped +taking oil on purpose, and tried to go out. But then he used to bring +me close up. It was enough to give any lamp a bad character. + +_Rhad_. Enough of verbal evidence. Now, just divest yourself of that +purple, and we will see what you have in the way of brands. Goodness +gracious, the man's a positive network! Black and blue with them! Now, +what punishment can we give him? A bath in Pyriphlegethon? The tender +mercies of Cerberus, perhaps? + +_Cy_. No, no. Allow me,—I have a novel idea; something that will just +suit him. + +_Rhad_. Yes? I shall be obliged to you for a suggestion. + +_Cy_. I fancy it is usual for departed spirits to take a draught of the +water of Lethe? + +_Rhad_. Just so. + +_Cy_. Let him be the sole exception. + +_Rhad_. What is the idea in that? + +_Cy_. His earthly pomp and power for ever in his mind; his fingers ever +busy on the tale of blissful items;—'tis a heavy sentence! + +_Rhad_. True. Be this the tyrant's doom. Place him in fetters at +Tantalus's side,—never to forget the things of earth. + +F. + +THE END + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORKS OF LUCIAN OF SAMOSATA *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Works of Lucian of Samosata, Volume 1</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Lucian of Samosata</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Translators: H.W. Fowler and F.G. Fowler</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: November 27, 2002 [eBook #6327]<br /> +[Most recently updated: April 8, 2023]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Beth Constantine, Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORKS OF LUCIAN OF SAMOSATA ***</div> + +<h1>THE WORKS OF LUCIAN OF SAMOSATA</h1> + +<h4>Complete with exceptions specified in the preface</h4> + +<h4>TRANSLATED BY</h4> + +<h2>H. W. FOWLER AND F. G. FOWLER</h2> + +<h4>IN FOUR VOLUMES</h4> + +<p> +What work nobler than transplanting foreign thought into the barren domestic +soil? except indeed planting thought of your own, which the fewest are +privileged to do.—<i>Sarlor Resartus</i>. +</p> + +<p> +At each flaw, be this your first thought: the author doubtless said something +quite different, and much more to the point. And then you may hiss <i>me</i> +off, if you will.—LUCIAN, <i>Nigrinus, 9</i>. +</p> + +<p> +(LUCIAN) The last great master of Attic eloquence and Attic wit.—<i>Lord +Macaulay</i>. +</p> + +<h4>VOLUME I</h4> + +<hr /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap01"></a>PREFACE</h3> + +<p> +The text followed in this translation is that of Jacobitz, Teubner, 1901, all +deviations from which are noted. +</p> + +<p> +In the following list of omissions, italics denote that the piece is marked as +spurious both by Dindorf and by Jacobitz. The other omissions are mainly by way +of expurgation. In a very few other passages some isolated words and phrases +have been excised; but it has not been thought necessary to mark these in the +texts by asterisks. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Halcyon</i>; Deorum Dialogi, iv, v, ix, x, xvii, xxii, xxiii; Dialogi +Marini, xiii; Vera Historia, I. 22, II. 19; Alexander, 41,42; Eunuchus; <i>De +Astrologia</i>; <i>Amores</i>; <i>Lucius</i> sive <i>Asinus</i>; Rhetorum +Preceptor, 23; <i>Hippias</i>; Adversus Indoctum, 23; Pseudologista; +<i>Longaevi</i>; Dialogi Meretricii, v, vi, x; De Syria Dea; <i>Philopatris; +Charidemus; Nero</i>; Tragodopodagra; Ocypus; Epigrammata. +</p> + +<p> +A word may be said about four pieces that seem to stand apart from the rest. Of +these, the <i>Trial in the Court of Vowels</i> and <i>A Slip of the Tongue</i> +will be interesting only to those who are familiar with Greek. The +<i>Lexiphanes</i> and <i>A Purist Purized</i>, satirizing the pedants and +euphuists of Lucian’s day, almost defy translation, and they must be accepted +at best as an effort to give the general effect of the original. +</p> + +<p> +The <i>Notes explanatory</i> at the end of vol. iv will be used by the reader +at his discretion. Reference is made to them at the foot of the page only when +it is not obvious what name should be consulted. +</p> + +<p> +The translators take this opportunity of offering their heartiest thanks to the +Delegates of the Clarendon Press for undertaking this work; and, in particular, +to the Vice-Chancellor of Oxford University, Dr. Merry, who has been good +enough to read the proofs, and to give much valuable advice both on the +difficult subject of excision and on details of style and rendering. In this +connexion, however, it should be added that for the retention of many modern +phrases, which may offend some readers as anachronistic, responsibility rests +with the translators alone. +</p> + +<h3>CONTENTS of VOL. I</h3> + +<table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">PREFACE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">INTRODUCTION</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">THE VISION</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">A LITERARY PROMETHEUS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05">NIGRINUS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap06">TRIAL IN THE COURT OF VOWELS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap07">TIMON THE MISANTHROPE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap08">PROMETHEUS ON CAUCASUS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap09">DIALOGUES OF THE GODS</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>i, ii, iii, vi, vii, viii, xi, xii, xiii, xiv, xv, xvi, xviii, xix, xx, +xxi, xxiv, xxv, xxvi.</td> +</tr> + + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap10">DIALOGUES OF THE SEA-GODS</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>i, ii, iii, iv, v, vi, vii, viii, ix, x, xi, xii, xiv, xv.</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap11">DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, +XVIII, XIX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII, XXIV, XXV, XXVI, XXVII, XXVIII, XXIX, +XXX.</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap12">MENIPPUS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap13">CHARON</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap14">OF SACRIFICE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap15">SALE OF CREEDS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap16">THE FISHER</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap17">VOYAGE TO THE LOWER WORLD</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap02"></a>INTRODUCTION</h3> + +<p class="letter"> +1. LIFE.<br/> +2. PROBABLE ORDER OF WRITINGS.<br/> +3. CIRCUMSTANCES OF THE TIME.<br/> +4. LUCIAN AS A WRITER. +</p> + +<p> +It is not to be understood that all statements here made are either ascertained +facts or universally admitted conjectures. The introduction is intended merely +to put those who are not scholars, and probably have not books of reference at +hand, in a position to approach the translation at as little disadvantage as +may be. Accordingly, we give the account that commends itself to us, without +discussion or reference to authorities. Those who would like a more complete +idea of Lucian should read Croiset’s <i>Essai sur la vie et les oeuvres de +Lucien</i>, on which the first two sections of this introduction are very +largely based. The only objections to the book (if they are objections) are +that it is in French, and of 400 octavo pages. It is eminently readable. +</p> + +<h4>1. LIFE</h4> + +<p> +With the exception of a very small number of statements, of which the truth is +by no means certain, all that we know of Lucian is derived from his own +writings. And any reader who prefers to have his facts at first rather than at +second hand can consequently get them by reading certain of his pieces, and +making the natural deductions from them. Those that contain biographical matter +are, in the order corresponding to the periods of his life on which they throw +light, <i>The Vision, Demosthenes, Nigrinus, The Portrait-study</i> and +<i>Defence</i> (in which Lucian is <i>Lycinus</i>), <i>The Way to write +History, The double Indictment</i> (in which he is <i>The Syrian</i>), <i>The +Fisher</i> (<i>Parrhesiades</i>), <i>Swans and Amber, Alexander</i>, +<i>Hermotimus</i> (<i>Lycinus</i>), <i>Menippus and Icaromenippus</i> (in which +<i>Menippus</i> represents him), <i>A literary Prometheus, Herodotus, Zeuxis, +Harmonides, The Scythian</i>, <i>The Death of Peregrine</i>, <i>The +Book-fancier</i>, <i>Demonax</i>, <i>The Rhetorician’s Vade mecum</i>, +<i>Dionysus</i>, <i>Heracles</i>, <i>A Slip of the Tongue</i>, <i>Apology for +‘The dependent Scholar.’</i> Of these <i>The Vision</i> is a direct piece of +autobiography; there is intentional but veiled autobiography in several of the +other pieces; in others again conclusions can be drawn from comparison of his +statements with facts known from external sources. +</p> + +<p> +Lucian lived from about 125 to about 200 A.D., under the Roman Emperors +Antoninus Pius, M. Aurelius and Lucius Verus, Commodus, and perhaps Pertinax. +He was a Syrian, born at Samosata on the Euphrates, of parents to whom it was +of importance that he should earn his living without spending much time or +money on education. His maternal uncle being a statuary, he was apprenticed to +him, having shown an aptitude for modelling in the wax that he surreptitiously +scraped from his school writing-tablets. The apprenticeship lasted one day. It +is clear that he was impulsive all through life; and when his uncle corrected +him with a stick for breaking a piece of marble, he ran off home, disposed +already to think he had had enough of statuary. His mother took his part, and +he made up his mind by the aid of a vision that came to him the same night. +</p> + +<p> +It was the age of the rhetoricians. If war was not a thing of the past, the +shadow of the <i>pax Romana</i> was over all the small states, and the aspiring +provincial’s readiest road to fame was through words rather than deeds. The +arrival of a famous rhetorician to lecture was one of the important events in +any great city’s annals; and Lucian’s works are full of references to the +impression these men produced, and the envy they enjoyed. He himself was +evidently consumed, during his youth and early manhood, with desire for a +position like theirs. To him, sleeping with memories of the stick, appeared two +women, corresponding to <i>Virtue</i> and <i>Pleasure</i> in Prodicus’s +<i>Choice of Heracles</i>—the working woman <i>Statuary</i>, and the lady +<i>Culture</i>. They advanced their claims to him in turn; but before +<i>Culture</i> had completed her reply, the choice was made: he was to be a +rhetorician. From her reminding him that she was even now not all unknown to +him, we may perhaps assume that he spoke some sort of Greek, or was being +taught it; but he assures us that after leaving Syria he was still a barbarian; +we have also a casual mention of his offering a lock of his hair to the Syrian +goddess in his youth. +</p> + +<p> +He was allowed to follow his bent and go to Ionia. Great Ionian cities like +Smyrna and Ephesus were full of admired sophists or teachers of rhetoric. But +it is unlikely that Lucian’s means would have enabled him to become the pupil +of these. He probably acquired his skill to a great extent by the laborious +method, which he ironically deprecates in <i>The Rhetorician’s Vade mecum</i>, +of studying exhaustively the old Attic orators, poets, and historians. +</p> + +<p> +He was at any rate successful. The different branches that a rhetorician might +choose between or combine were: (1) Speaking in court on behalf of a client; +(2) Writing speeches for a client to deliver; (3) Teaching pupils; (4) Giving +public displays of his skill. There is a doubtful statement that Lucian failed +in (1), and took to (2) in default. His surviving rhetorical pieces (<i>The +Tyrannicide, The Disinherited, Phalaris</i>) are declamations on hypothetical +cases which might serve either for (3) or (4); and <i>The Hall, The Fly, +Dipsas</i>, and perhaps <i>Demosthenes</i>, suggest (4). A common form of +exhibition was for a sophist to appear before an audience and let them propose +subjects, of which he must choose one and deliver an impromptu oration upon it. +</p> + +<p> +Whatever his exact line was, he earned an income in Ionia, then in Greece, had +still greater success in Italy, and appears to have settled for some time in +Gaul, perhaps occupying a professorial chair there. The intimate knowledge of +Roman life in some aspects which appears in <i>The dependent Scholar</i> +suggests that he also lived some time in Rome. He seems to have known some +Latin, since he could converse with boatmen on the Po; but his only clear +reference (<i>A Slip of the Tongue</i>, 13) implies an imperfect knowledge of +it; and there is not a single mention in all his works, which are crammed with +literary allusions, of any Latin author. He claims to have been during his time +in Gaul one of the rhetoricians who could command high fees; and his +descriptions of himself as resigning his place close about his lady’s (i.e. +Rhetoric’s) person, and as casting off his wife Rhetoric because she did not +keep herself exclusively to him, show that he regarded himself, or wished to be +regarded, as having been at the head of his profession. +</p> + +<p> +This brings us to about the year 160 A.D. We may conceive Lucian now to have +had some of that yearning for home which he ascribes in the <i>Patriotism</i> +even to the successful exile. He returned home, we suppose, a distinguished man +at thirty-five, and enjoyed impressing the fact on his fellow citizens in +<i>The Vision</i>. He may then have lived at Antioch as a rhetorician for some +years, of which we have a memorial in <i>The Portrait-study</i>. Lucius Verus, +M. Aurelius’s colleague, was at Antioch in 162 or 163 A.D. on his way to the +Parthian war, and <i>The Portrait-study</i> is a panegyric on Verus’s mistress +Panthea, whom Lucian saw there. +</p> + +<p> +A year or two later we find him migrating to Athens, taking his father with +him, and at Athens he settled and remained many years. It was on this journey +that the incident occurred, which he relates with such a curious absence of +shame in the <i>Alexander</i>, of his biting that charlatan’s hand. +</p> + +<p> +This change in his manner of life corresponds nearly with the change in habit +of mind and use of his powers that earned him his immortality. His fortieth +year is the date given by himself for his abandonment of Rhetoric and, as he +calls it, taking up with Dialogue, or, as we might say, becoming a man of +letters. Between Rhetoric and Dialogue there was a feud, which had begun when +Socrates five centuries before had fought his battles with the sophists. +Rhetoric appeals to the emotions and obscures the issues (such had been +Socrates’s position); the way to elicit truth is by short question and answer. +The Socratic method, illustrated by Plato, had become, if not the only, the +accredited instrument of philosophers, who, so far as they are genuine, are +truth-seekers; Rhetoric had been left to the legal persons whose object is not +truth but victory. Lucian’s abandonment of Rhetoric was accordingly in some +sort his change from a lawyer to a philosopher. As it turned out, however, +philosophy was itself only a transitional stage with him. +</p> + +<p> +Already during his career as a rhetorician, which we may put at 145-164 A.D., +he seems both to have had leanings to philosophy, and to have toyed with +dialogue. There is reason to suppose that the <i>Nigrinus</i>, with its strong +contrast between the noise and vulgarity of Rome and the peace and culture of +Athens, its enthusiastic picture of the charm of philosophy for a sensitive and +intelligent spirit, was written in 150 A.D., or at any rate described an +incident that occurred in that year; and the <i>Portrait-study</i> and its +<i>Defence</i>, dialogues written with great care, whatever their other merits, +belong to 162 or 163 A.D. But these had been excursions out of his own +province. After settling at Athens he seems to have adopted the writing of +dialogues as his regular work. The <i>Toxaris</i>, a collection of stories on +friendship, strung together by dialogue, the <i>Anacharsis</i>, a discussion on +the value of physical training, and the <i>Pantomime</i>, a description +slightly relieved by the dialogue form, may be regarded as experiments with his +new instrument. There is no trace in them of the characteristic use that he +afterwards made of dialogue, for the purposes of satire. +</p> + +<p> +That was an idea that we may suppose to have occurred to him after the +composition of the <i>Hermotimus</i>. This is in form the most philosophic of +his dialogues; it might indeed be a dialogue of Plato, of the merely +destructive kind; but it is at the same time, in matter, his farewell to +philosophy, establishing that the pursuit of it is hopeless for mortal man. +From this time onward, though he always professes himself a lover of true +philosophy, he concerns himself no more with it, except to expose its false +professors. The dialogue that perhaps comes next, <i>The Parasite</i>, is still +Platonic in form, but only as a parody; its main interest (for a modern reader +is outraged, as in a few other pieces of Lucian’s, by the disproportion between +subject and treatment) is in the combination for the first time of satire with +dialogue. +</p> + +<p> +One more step remained to be taken. In the piece called <i>A literary +Prometheus</i>, we are told what Lucian himself regarded as his claim to the +title of an original writer. It was the fusing of Comedy and Dialogue—the +latter being the prose conversation hat had hitherto been confined to +philosophical discussion. The new literary form, then, was conversation, +frankly for purposes of entertainment, as in Comedy, but to be read and not +acted. In this kind of writing he remains, though he has been often imitated, +first in merit as clearly as in time; and nearly all his great masterpieces +took this form. They followed in rapid succession, being all written, perhaps, +between 165 and 175 A.D. And we make here no further comment upon them, except +to remark that they fall roughly into three groups as he drew inspiration +successively from the writers of the New Comedy (or Comedy of ordinary life) +like Menander, from the satires of Menippus, and from writers of the Old Comedy +(or Comedy of fantastic imagination) like Aristophanes. The best specimens of +the first group are <i>The Liar</i> and the <i>Dialogues of the Hetaerae;</i> +of the second, the <i>Dialogues of the Dead</i> and <i>of the Gods, +Menippus</i> and <i>Icaromenippus, Zeus cross-examined;</i> of the third, +<i>Timon, Charon, A Voyage to the lower World, The Sale of Creeds, The Fisher, +Zeus Tragoedus, The Cock, The double Indictment, The Ship</i>. +</p> + +<p> +During these ten or more years, though he lived at Athens, he is to be imagined +travelling occasionally, to read his dialogues to audiences in various cities, +or to see the Olympic Games. And these excursions gave occasion to some works +not of the dialogue kind; the <i>Zeuxis</i> and several similar pieces are +introductions to series of readings away from Athens; The <i>Way to write +History</i>, a piece of literary criticism still very readable, if out of date +for practical purposes, resulted from a visit to Ionia, where all the literary +men were producing histories of the Parthian war, then in progress (165 A.D.). +An attendance at the Olympic Games of 169 A.D. suggested <i>The Death of +Peregrine</i>, which in its turn, through the offence given to Cynics, had to +be supplemented by the dialogue of <i>The Runaways. The True History</i>, most +famous, but, admirable as it is, far from best of his works, presumably belongs +to this period also, but cannot be definitely placed. The <i>Book-fancier</i> +and <i>The Rhetorician’s Vade mecum</i> are unpleasant records of bitter +personal quarrels. +</p> + +<p> +After some ten years of this intense literary activity, producing, reading, and +publishing, Lucian seems to have given up both the writing of dialogues and the +presenting of them to audiences, and to have lived quietly for many years. The +only pieces that belong here are the <i>Life of Demonax</i>, the man whom he +held the best of all philosophers, and with whom he had been long intimate at +Athens, and that of Alexander, the Asiatic charlatan, who was the prince of +impostors as Demonax of philosophers. When quite old, Lucian was appointed by +the Emperor Commodus to a well-paid legal post in Egypt. We also learn, from +the new introductory lectures called <i>Dionysus</i> and <i>Heracles</i>, that +he resumed the practice of reading his dialogues; but he wrote nothing more of +importance. It is stated in Suidas that he was torn to pieces by dogs; but, as +other statements in the article are discredited, it is supposed that this is +the Christian revenge for Lucian’s imaginary hostility to Christianity. We have +it from himself that he suffered from gout in his old age. He solaced himself +characteristically by writing a play on the subject; but whether the goddess +Gout, who gave it its name, was appeased by it, or carried him off, we cannot +tell. +</p> + +<h4>2. PROBABLE ORDER OF WRITINGS</h4> + +<p> +The received order in which Lucian’s works stand is admitted to be entirely +haphazard. The following arrangement in groups is roughly chronological, though +it is quite possible that they overlap each other. It is M. Croiset’s, put into +tabular form. Many details in it are open to question; but to read in this +order would at least be more satisfactory to any one who wishes to study Lucian +seriously than to take the pieces as they come. The table will also serve as a +rough guide to the first-class and the inferior pieces. The names italicized +are those of pieces rejected as spurious by M. Croiset, and therefore not +placed by him; we have inserted them where they seem to belong; as to their +genuineness, it is our opinion that the objections made (not by M. Croiset, who +does not discuss authenticity) to the <i>Demosthenes</i> and <i>The Cynic</i> +at least are, in view of the merits of these, unconvincing. +</p> + +<p> +(i) About 145 to 160 A.D. Lucian a rhetorician in Ionia, Greece, Italy, and +Gaul. +</p> + +<p> +The Tyrannicide, a rhetorical exercise. +</p> + +<p> +The Disinherited. +</p> + +<p> +Phalaris I & II. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Demosthenes</i>, a panegyric. +</p> + +<p> +Patriotism, an essay. +</p> + +<p> +The Fly, an essay. +</p> + +<p> +Swans and Amber, an introductory lecture. +</p> + +<p> +Dipsas, an introductory lecture. +</p> + +<p> +The Hall, an introductory lecture. +</p> + +<p> +Nigrinus, a dialogue on philosophy, 150 A.D. +</p> + +<p> +(ii) About 160 to 164 A.D. After Lucian’s return to Asia. +</p> + +<p> +The Portrait-study, a panegyric in dialogue, 162 A.D. +</p> + +<p> +Defence of The Portrait-study, in dialogue. +</p> + +<p> +A Trial in the Court of Vowels, a <i>jeu d’esprit</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Hesiod, a short dialogue. +</p> + +<p> +The Vision, an autobiographical address. +</p> + +<p> +(iii) About 165 A.D. At Athens. +</p> + +<p> +Pantomime, art criticism in dialogue. +</p> + +<p> +Anacharsis, a dialogue on physical training. +</p> + +<p> +Toxaris, stories of friendship in dialogue. +</p> + +<p> +Slander, a moral essay. +</p> + +<p> +The Way to write History, an essay in literary criticism. +</p> + +<p> +The next eight groups, iv-xi, belong to the years from about 165 A.D. to about +175 A.D., when Lucian was at his best and busiest; iv-ix are to be regarded +roughly as succeeding each other in time; x and xi being independent in this +respect. Pieces are assigned to groups mainly according to their subjects; but +some are placed in groups that do not seem at first sight the most appropriate, +owing to specialties in their treatment; e.g. <i>The Ship</i> might seem more +in place with vii than with ix; but M. Croiset finds in it a maturity that +induces him to put it later. +</p> + +<p> +(iv) About 165 A.D. +</p> + +<p> +Hermotimus, a philosophic dialogue. +</p> + +<p> +The Parasite, a parody of a philosophic dialogue. +</p> + +<p> +(v) Influence of the New Comedy writers. +</p> + +<p> +The Liar, a dialogue satirizing superstition. +</p> + +<p> +A Feast of Lapithae, a dialogue satirizing the manners of philosophers. +</p> + +<p> +Dialogues of the Hetaerae, a series of short dialogues. +</p> + +<p> +(vi) Influence of the Menippean satire. +</p> + +<p> +Dialogues of the Dead, a series of short dialogues. +</p> + +<p> +Dialogues of the Gods, a series of short dialogues. +</p> + +<p> +Dialogues of the Sea-Gods, a series of short dialogues. +</p> + +<p> +Menippus, a dialogue satirizing philosophy. +</p> + +<p> +Icaromenippus, a dialogue satirizing philosophy and religion. +</p> + +<p> +Zeus cross-examined, a dialogue satirizing religion. +</p> + +<p> +<i>The Cynic</i>, a dialogue against luxury. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Of Sacrifice</i>, an essay satirizing religion. +</p> + +<p> +Saturnalia, dialogue and letters on the relation of rich and poor. +</p> + +<p> +The True History, a parody of the old Greek historians, +</p> + +<p> +(vii) Influence of the Old Comedy writers: vanity of human wishes. +</p> + +<p> +A Voyage to the Lower World, a dialogue on the vanity of power. +</p> + +<p> +Charon, a dialogue on the vanity of all things. +</p> + +<p> +Timon, a dialogue on the vanity of riches. +</p> + +<p> +The Cock, a dialogue on the vanity of riches and power, +</p> + +<p> +(viii) Influence of the Old Comedy writers: dialogues satirizing religion. +</p> + +<p> +Prometheus on Caucasus. +</p> + +<p> +Zeus Tragoedus. +</p> + +<p> +The Gods in Council. +</p> + +<p> +(ix) Influence of the Old Comedy writers: satire on philosophers. +</p> + +<p> +The Ship, a dialogue on foolish aspirations. +</p> + +<p> +The Life of Peregrine, a narrative satirizing the Cynics, 169 A.D. +</p> + +<p> +The Runaways, a dialogue satirizing the Cynics. +</p> + +<p> +The double Indictment, an autobiographic dialogue. +</p> + +<p> +The Sale of Creeds, a dialogue satirizing philosophers. +</p> + +<p> +The Fisher, an autobiographic dialogue satirizing philosophers. +</p> + +<p> +(x) 165-175 A.D. Introductory lectures. +</p> + +<p> +Herodotus. +</p> + +<p> +Zeuxis. +</p> + +<p> +Harmonides. +</p> + +<p> +The Scythian. +</p> + +<p> +A literary Prometheus. +</p> + +<p> +(xi) 165-175 A.D. Scattered pieces standing apart from the great dialogue +series, but written during the same period. +</p> + +<p> +The Book-fancier, an invective. About 170 A.D. +</p> + +<p> +<i>The Purist purized</i>, a literary satire in dialogue. +</p> + +<p> +Lexiphanes, a literary satire in dialogue. +</p> + +<p> +The Rhetorician’s Vade-mecum, a personal satire. About 178 A.D. +</p> + +<p> +(xii) After 180 A.D. +</p> + +<p> +Demonax, a biography. +</p> + +<p> +Alexander, a satirical biography, +</p> + +<p> +(xiii) In old age. +</p> + +<p> +Mourning, an essay. +</p> + +<p> +Dionysus, an introductory lecture. +</p> + +<p> +Heracles, an introductory lecture. +</p> + +<p> +Apology for ‘The dependent Scholar.’ +</p> + +<p> +A Slip of the Tongue. +</p> + +<p> +In conclusion, we have to say that this arrangement of M. Croiset’s, which we +have merely tabulated without intentionally departing from it in any +particular, seems to us well considered in its broad lines; there are a few +modifications which we should have been disposed to make in it; but we thought +it better to take it entire than to exercise our own judgment in a matter where +we felt very little confidence. +</p> + +<h4>3. CIRCUMSTANCES OF THE TIME</h4> + +<p> +‘M. Aurelius has for us moderns this great superiority in interest over Saint +Louis or Alfred, that he lived and acted in a state of society modern by its +essential characteristics, in an epoch akin to our own, in a brilliant centre +of civilization. Trajan talks of “our enlightened age” just as glibly as <i>The +Times</i> talks of it.’ M. Arnold, <i>Essays in Criticism, M. Aurelius</i>. +</p> + +<p> +The age of M. Aurelius is also the age of Lucian, and with any man of that age +who has, like these two, left us a still legible message we can enter into +quite different relations from those which are possible with what M. Arnold +calls in the same essay ‘classical-dictionary heroes.’ A twentieth-century +Englishman, a second-century Greek or Roman, would be much more at home in each +other’s century, if they had the gift of tongues, than in most of those which +have intervened. It is neither necessary nor possible to go deeply into the +resemblance here [Footnote: Some words of Sir Leslie Stephen’s may be given, +however, describing the welter of religious opinions that prevailed at both +epochs: ‘The analogy between the present age and that which witnessed the +introduction of Christianity is too striking to have been missed by very many +observers. The most superficial acquaintance with the general facts shows how +close a parallel might be drawn by a competent historian. There are none of the +striking manifestations of the present day to which it would not be easy to +produce an analogy, though in some respects on a smaller scale. Now, as then, +we can find mystical philosophers trying to evolve a satisfactory creed by some +process of logical legerdemain out of theosophical moonshine; and amiable and +intelligent persons labouring hard to prove that the old mythology could be +forced to accept a rationalistic interpretation—whether in regard to the +inspection of entrails or prayers for fine weather; and philosophers framing +systems of morality entirely apart from the ancient creeds, and sufficiently +satisfactory to themselves, while hopelessly incapable of impressing the +popular mind; and politicians, conscious that the basis of social order was +being sapped by the decay of the faith in which it had arisen, and therefore +attempting the impossible task of galvanizing dead creeds into a semblance of +vitality; and strange superstitions creeping out of their lurking-places, and +gaining influence in a luxurious society whose intelligence was an ineffectual +safeguard against the most grovelling errors; and a dogged adherence of +formalists and conservatives to ancient ways, and much empty profession of +barren orthodoxy; and, beneath all, a vague disquiet, a breaking up of ancient +social and natural bonds, and a blind groping toward some more cosmopolitan +creed and some deeper satisfaction for the emotional needs of +mankind.’—<i>The Religion of all Sensible Men</i> in <i>An Agnostic’s +Apology</i>, 1893.]; all that need be done is to pass in review those points of +it, some important, and some trifling, which are sure to occur in a detached +way to readers of Lucian. +</p> + +<p> +The Graeco-Roman world was as settled and peaceful, as conscious of its +imperial responsibilities, as susceptible to boredom, as greedy of amusement, +could show as numerous a leisured class, and believed as firmly in money, as +our own. What is more important for our purpose, it was questioning the truth +of its religion as we are to-day questioning the truth of ours. Lucian was the +most vehement of the questioners. Of what played the part then that the +Christian religion plays now, the pagan religion was only one half; the other +half was philosophy. The gods of Olympus had long lost their hold upon the +educated, but not perhaps upon the masses; the educated, ill content to be +without any guide through the maze of life, had taken to philosophy instead. +Stoicism was the prevalent creed, and how noble a form this could take in a +cultivated and virtuous mind is to be seen in the <i>Thoughts</i> of M. +Aurelius. The test of a religion, however, is not what form it takes in a +virtuous mind, but what effects it produces on those of another sort. Lucian +applies the test of results alike to the religion usually so called, and to its +philosophic substitute. He finds both wanting; the test is not a satisfactory +one, but it is being applied by all sorts and conditions of men to Christianity +in our own time; so is the second test, that of inherent probability, which he +uses as well as the other upon the pagan theology; and it is this that gives +his writings, even apart from their wit and fancy, a special interest for our +own time. Our attention seems to be concentrated more and more on the ethical, +as opposed to the speculative or dogmatic aspect of religion; just such was +Lucian’s attitude towards philosophy. +</p> + +<p> +Some minor points of similarity may be briefly noted. As we read the +<i>Anacharsis</i>, we are reminded of the modern prominence of athletics; the +question of football <i>versus</i> drill is settled for us; light is thrown +upon the question of conscription; we think of our Commissions on national +deterioration, and the schoolmaster’s wail over the athletic +<i>Frankenstein’s</i> monster which, like <i>Eucrates</i> in <i>The Liar</i>, +he has created but cannot control. The ‘horsy talk in every street’ of the +<i>Nigrinus</i> calls up the London newsboy with his ‘All the winners.’ We +think of palmists and spiritualists in the police-courts as we read of +Rutilianus and the Roman nobles consulting the impostor Alexander. This +sentence reads like the description of a modern man of science confronted with +the supernatural: ‘It was an occasion for a man whose intelligence was steeled +against such assaults by scepticism and insight, one who, if he could not +detect the precise imposture, would at any rate have been perfectly certain +that, though this escaped him, the whole thing was a lie and an impossibility.’ +The upper-class audiences who listened to Lucian’s readings, taking his points +with quiet smiles instead of the loud applause given to the rhetorician, must +have been something like that which listens decorously to an Extension +lecturer. When Lucian bids us mark ‘how many there are who once were but +cyphers, but whom words have raised to fame and opulence, ay, and to noble +lineage too,’ we remember not only Gibbon’s remark about the very Herodes +Atticus of whom Lucian may have been thinking (‘The family of Herod, at least +after it had been favoured by fortune, was lineally descended from Cimon and +Miltiades’), but also the modern <i>carriere ouverte aux talents</i>, and the +fact that Tennyson was a lord. There are the elements of a socialist question +in the feelings between rich and poor described in the <i>Saturnalia</i>; +while, on the other hand, the fact of there being an audience for the +<i>Dialogues of the Hetaerae</i> is an illustration of that spirit of <i>humani +nihil a me alienum puto</i> which is again prevalent today. We care now to +realize the thoughts of other classes besides our own; so did they in Lucian’s +time; but it is significant that Francklin in 1780, refusing to translate this +series, says: ‘These dialogues exhibit to us only such kind of conversation as +we may hear in the purlieus of Covent Garden—lewd, dull, and insipid.’ +The lewdness hardly goes beyond the title; they are full of humour and insight; +and we make no apology for translating most of them. Lastly, a generation that +is always complaining of the modern over-production of books feels that it +would be at home in a state of society in which our author found that, not to +be too singular, he must at least write about writing history, if he declined +writing it himself, even as Diogenes took to rolling his tub, lest he should be +the only idle man when Corinth was bustling about its defences. +</p> + +<p> +As Lucian is so fond of saying, ‘this is but a small selection of the facts +which might have been quoted’ to illustrate the likeness between our age and +his. It may be well to allude, on the other hand, to a few peculiarities of the +time that appear conspicuously in his writings. +</p> + +<p> +The Roman Empire was rather Graeco-Roman than Roman; this is now a commonplace. +It is interesting to observe that for Lucian ‘we’ is on occasion the Romans; +‘we’ is also everywhere the Greeks; while at the same time ‘I’ is a barbarian +and a Syrian. Roughly speaking, the Roman element stands for energy, material +progress, authority, and the Greek for thought; the Roman is the British +Philistine, the Greek the man of culture. Lucian is conscious enough of the +distinction, and there is no doubt where his own preference lies. He may be a +materialist, so far as he is anything, in philosophy; but in practice he puts +the things of the mind before the things of the body. +</p> + +<p> +If our own age supplies parallels for most of what we meet with in the second +century, there are two phenomena which are to be matched rather in an England +that has passed away. The first is the Cynics, who swarm in Lucian’s pages like +the begging friars in those of a historical novelist painting the middle ages. +Like the friars, they began nobly in the desire for plain living and high +thinking; in both cases the thinking became plain, the living not perhaps high, +but the best that circumstances admitted of, and the class—with its +numbers hugely swelled by persons as little like their supposed teachers as a +Marian or Elizabethan persecutor was like the founder of Christianity—a +pest to society. Lucian’s sympathy with the best Cynics, and detestation of the +worst, make Cynicism one of his most familiar themes. The second is the class +so vividly presented in <i>The dependent Scholar</i>—the indigent learned +Greek who looks about for a rich vulgar Roman to buy his company, and finds he +has the worst of the bargain. His successors, the ‘trencher chaplains’ who +‘from grasshoppers turn bumble-bees and wasps, plain parasites, and make the +Muses mules, to satisfy their hunger-starved panches, and get a meal’s meat,’ +were commoner in Burton’s days than in our own, and are to be met in Fielding, +and Macaulay, and Thackeray. +</p> + +<p> +Two others of Lucian’s favourite figures, the parasite and the legacy-hunter, +exist still, no doubt, as they are sure to in every complex civilization; but +their operations are now conducted with more regard to the decencies. This is +worth remembering when we are occasionally offended by his frankness on +subjects to which we are not accustomed to allude; he is not an unclean or a +sensual writer, but the waters of decency have risen since his time and +submerged some things which were then visible. +</p> + +<p> +A slight prejudice, again, may sometimes be aroused by Lucian’s trick of +constant and trivial quotation; he would rather put the simplest statement, or +even make his transition from one subject to another, in words of Homer than in +his own; we have modern writers too who show the same tendency, and perhaps we +like or dislike them for it in proportion as their allusions recall memories or +merely puzzle us; we cannot all be expected to have agreeable memories stirred +by insignificant Homer tags; and it is well to bear in mind by way of +palliation that in Greek education Homer played as great a part as the Bible in +ours. He might be taken simply or taken allegorically; but one way or the other +he was the staple of education, and it might be assumed that every one would +like the mere sound of him. +</p> + +<p> +We may end by remarking that the public readings of his own works, to which the +author makes frequent reference, were what served to a great extent the purpose +of our printing-press. We know that his pieces were also published; but the +public that could be reached by hand-written copies would bear a very small +proportion to that which heard them from the writer’s own lips; and though the +modern system may have the advantage on the whole, it is hard to believe that +the unapproached life and naturalness of Lucian’s dialogue does not owe +something to this necessity. +</p> + +<h4>4. LUCIAN AS A WRITER</h4> + +<p> +With all the sincerity of Lucian in <i>The True History</i>, ‘soliciting his +reader’s incredulity,’ we solicit our reader’s neglect of this appreciation. We +have no pretensions whatever to the critical faculty; the following remarks are +to be taken as made with diffidence, and offered to those only who prefer being +told what to like, and why, to settling the matter for themselves. +</p> + +<p> +Goethe, aged fourteen, with seven languages on hand, devised the plan of a +correspondence kept up by seven imaginary brothers scattered over the globe, +each writing in the language of his adopted land. The stay-at-home in Frankfort +was to write Jew-German, for which purpose some Hebrew must be acquired. His +father sent him to Rector Albrecht. The rector was always found with one book +open before him—a well-thumbed Lucian. But the Hebrew vowel-points were +perplexing, and the boy found better amusement in putting shrewd questions on +what struck him as impossibilities or inconsistencies in the Old-Testament +narrative they were reading. The old gentleman was infinitely amused, had fits +of mingled coughing and laughter, but made little attempt at solving his +pupil’s difficulties, beyond ejaculating <i>Er narrischer Kerl! Er narrischer +Junge</i>! He let him dig for solutions, however, in an English commentary on +the shelves, and occupied the time with turning the familiar pages of his +Lucian [Footnote: <i>Wahrheit und Dichtung</i>, book iv. ]. The wicked old +rector perhaps chuckled to think that here was one who bade fair to love Lucian +one day as well as he did himself. +</p> + +<p> +For Lucian too was one who asked questions—spent his life doing little +else; if one were invited to draw him with the least possible expenditure of +ink, one’s pen would trace a mark of interrogation. That picture is easily +drawn; to put life into it is a more difficult matter. However, his is not a +complex character, for all the irony in which he sometimes chooses to clothe +his thought; and materials are at least abundant; he is one of the +self-revealing fraternity; his own personal presence is to be detected more +often than not in his work. He may give us the assistance, or he may not, of +labelling a character <i>Lucian</i> or <i>Lycinus</i>; we can detect him, +<i>volentes volentem</i>, under the thin disguise of <i>Menippus</i> or +<i>Tychiades</i> or <i>Cyniscus</i> as well. And the essence of him as he +reveals himself is the questioning spirit. He has no respect for authority. +Burke describes the majority of mankind, who do not form their own opinions, as +‘those whom Providence has doomed to live on trust’; Lucian entirely refuses to +live on trust; he ‘wants to know.’ It was the wish of <i>Arthur Clennam</i>, +who had in consequence a very bad name among the <i>Tite Barnacles</i> and +other persons in authority. Lucian has not escaped the same fate; ‘the scoffer +Lucian’ has become as much a commonplace as ‘<i>fidus Achates</i>,’ or ‘the +well-greaved Achaeans,’ the reading of him has been discountenanced, and, if he +has not actually lost his place at the table of Immortals, promised him when he +temporarily left the Island of the Blest, it has not been so ‘distinguished’ a +place as it was to have been and should have been. And all because he ‘wanted +to know.’ +</p> + +<p> +His questions, of course, are not all put in the same manner. In the +<i>Dialogues of the Gods</i>, for instance, the mark of interrogation is not +writ large; they have almost the air at first of little stories in dialogue +form, which might serve to instruct schoolboys in the attributes and legends of +the gods—a manual charmingly done, yet a manual only. But we soon see +that he has said to himself: Let us put the thing into plain natural prose, and +see what it looks like with its glamour of poetry and reverence stripped off; +the Gods do human things; why not represent them as human persons, and see what +results? What did result was that henceforth any one who still believed in the +pagan deities might at the cost of an hour’s light reading satisfy himself that +his gods were not gods, or, if they were, had no business to be. Whether many +or few did so read and so satisfy themselves, we have no means of knowing; it +is easy to over-estimate the effect such writing may have had, and to forget +that those who were capable of being convinced by exposition of this sort would +mostly be those who were already convinced without; still, so far as Lucian had +any effect on the religious position, it must have been in discrediting +paganism and increasing the readiness to accept the new faith beginning to make +its way. Which being so, it was ungrateful of the Christian church to turn and +rend him. It did so, partly in error. Lucian had referred in the <i>Life of +Peregrine</i> to the Christians, in words which might seem irreverent to +Christians at a time when they were no longer an obscure sect; he had described +and ridiculed in <i>The Liar</i> certain ‘Syrian’ miracles which have a +remarkable likeness to the casting out of spirits by Christ and the apostles; +and worse still, the <i>Philopatris</i> passed under his name. This dialogue, +unlike what Lucian had written in the <i>Peregrine</i> and <i>The Liar</i>, is +a deliberate attack on Christianity. It is clear to us now that it was written +two hundred years after his time, under Julian the Apostate; but there can be +no more doubt of its being an imitation of Lucian than of its not being his; it +consequently passed for his, the story gained currency that he was an apostate +himself, and his name was anathema for the church. It was only partly in error, +however. Though Lucian might be useful on occasion (‘When Tertullian or +Lactantius employ their labours in exposing the falsehood and extravagance of +Paganism, they are obliged to transcribe the eloquence of Cicero or the wit of +Lucian’ [Footnote: Gibbon, <i>Decline and Fall</i>, cap. xv.]), the very word +heretic is enough to remind us that the Church could not show much favour to +one who insisted always on thinking for himself. His works survived, but he was +not read, through the Middle Ages. With the Renaissance he partly came into his +own again, but still laboured under the imputations of scoffing and atheism, +which confined the reading of him to the few. +</p> + +<p> +The method followed in the <i>Dialogues of the Gods</i> and similar pieces is a +very indirect way of putting questions. It is done much more directly in +others, the <i>Zeus cross-examined</i>, for instance. Since the fallen angels +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + reasoned high<br/> + Of Providence, Foreknowledge, Will, and Fate—<br/> + Fixed fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute—<br/> + And found no end, in wandering mazes lost,<br/> +</p> + +<p> +these subjects have had their share of attention; but the questions can hardly +be put more directly, or more neatly, than in the <i>Zeus cross-examined</i>, +and the thirtieth <i>Dialogue of the Dead</i>. +</p> + +<p> +He has many other interrogative methods besides these, which may be left to +reveal themselves in the course of reading. As for answering questions, that is +another matter. The answer is sometimes apparent, sometimes not; he will not +refrain from asking a question just because he does not know the answer; his +<i>role</i> is asking, not answering. Nor when he gives an answer is it always +certain whether it is to be taken in earnest. Was he a cynic? one would say so +after reading <i>The Cynic</i>; was he an Epicurean? one would say so after +reading the <i>Alexander</i>; was he a philosopher? one would say Yes at a +certain point of the <i>Hermotimus</i>, No at another. He doubtless had his +moods, and he was quite unhampered by desire for any consistency except +consistent independence of judgement. Moreover, the difficulty of getting at +his real opinions is increased by the fact that he was an ironist. We have +called him a self-revealer; but you never quite know where to have an ironical +self-revealer. Goethe has the useful phrase, ‘direct irony’; a certain German +writer ‘makes too free a use of direct irony, praising the blameworthy and +blaming the praiseworthy—a rhetorical device which should be very +sparingly employed. In the long run it disgusts the sensible and misleads the +dull, pleasing only the great intermediate class to whom it offers the +satisfaction of being able to think themselves more shrewd than other people, +without expending much thought of their own’ (<i>Wahrheit und Dichtung</i>, +book vii). Fielding gives us in <i>Jonathan Wild</i> a sustained piece of +‘direct irony’; you have only to reverse everything said, and you get the +author’s meaning. Lucian’s irony is not of that sort; you cannot tell when you +are to reverse him, only that you will have sometimes to do so. He does use the +direct kind; <i>The Rhetorician’s Vade mecum</i> and <i>The Parasite</i> are +examples; the latter is also an example (unless a translator, who is condemned +not to skip or skim, is an unfair judge) of how tiresome it may become. But who +shall say how much of irony and how much of genuine feeling there is in the +fine description of the philosophic State given in the <i>Hermotimus</i> (with +its suggestions of <i>Christian</i> in <i>The Pilgrim’s Progress</i>, and of +the ‘not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble’), or +in the whimsical extravagance (as it strikes a modern) of the <i>Pantomime</i>, +or in the triumph permitted to the Cynic (against ‘Lycinus’ too) in the +dialogue called after him? In one of his own introductory lectures he compares +his pieces aptly enough to the bacchante’s thyrsus with its steel point +concealed. +</p> + +<p> +With his questions and his irony and his inconsistencies, it is no wonder that +Lucian is accused of being purely negative and destructive. But we need not +think he is disposed of in that way, any more than our old-fashioned literary +education is disposed of when it has been pointed out that it does not equip +its <i>alumni</i> with knowledge of electricity or of a commercially useful +modern language; it may have equipped them with something less paying, but more +worth paying for. Lucian, it is certain, will supply no one with a religion or +a philosophy; but it may be doubted whether any writer will supply more fully +both example and precept in favour of doing one’s thinking for oneself; and it +may be doubted also whether any other intellectual lesson is more necessary. He +is <i>nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri</i>, if ever man was; he is +individualist to the core. No religion or philosophy, he seems to say, will +save you; the thing is to think for yourself, and be a man of sense. ‘It was +but small consolation,’ says <i>Menippus</i>, ‘to reflect that I was in +numerous and wise and eminently sensible company, if I was a fool still, all +astray in my quest for truth.’ <i>Vox populi</i> is no <i>vox dei</i> for him; +he is quite proof against majorities; <i>Athanasius contra mundum</i> is more +to his taste. “What is this I hear?” asked Arignotus, scowling upon me; “you +deny the existence of the supernatural, when there is scarcely a man who has +not seen some evidence of it?” “Therein lies my exculpation,” I replied; “I do +not believe in the supernatural, because, unlike the rest of mankind, I do not +see it; if I saw, I should doubtless believe, just as you all do.”’ That +British schoolboys should have been brought up for centuries on Ovid, and +Lucian have been tabooed, is, in view of their comparative efficacy in +stimulating thought, an interesting example of <i>habent sua fata libelli</i>. +</p> + +<p> +It need not be denied that there is in him a certain lack of feeling, not +surprising in one of his analytic temper, but not agreeable either. He is a +hard bright intelligence, with no bowels; he applies the knife without the +least compunction—indeed with something of savage enjoyment. The veil is +relentlessly torn from family affection in the <i>Mourning</i>. <i>Solon</i> in +the <i>Charon</i> pursues his victory so far as to make us pity instead of +scorning <i>Croesus</i>. <i>Menippus</i> and his kind, in the shades, do their +lashing of dead horses with a disagreeable gusto, which tempts us to raise a +society for the prevention of cruelty to the Damned. A voyage through Lucian in +search of pathos will yield as little result as one in search of interest in +nature. There is a touch of it here and there (which has probably evaporated in +translation) in the <i>Hermotimus</i>, the <i>Demonax</i>, and the +<i>Demosthenes</i>; but that is all. He was perhaps not unconscious of all this +himself. ‘But what is your profession?’ asks <i>Philosophy</i>. ‘I profess +hatred of imposture and pretension, lying and pride… However, I do not neglect +the complementary branch, in which love takes the place of hate; it includes +love of truth and beauty and simplicity, and all that is akin to love. <i>But +the subjects for this branch of the profession are sadly few</i>.’ +</p> + +<p> +Before going on to his purely literary qualities, we may collect here a few +detached remarks affecting rather his character than his skill as an artist. +And first of his relations to philosophy. The statements in the <i>Menippus</i> +and the <i>Icaromenippus</i>, as well as in <i>The Fisher</i> and <i>The double +Indictment</i>, have all the air of autobiography (especially as they are in +the nature of digressions), and give us to understand that he had spent much +time and energy on philosophic study. He claims <i>Philosophy</i> as his +mistress in <i>The Fisher</i>, and in a case where he is in fact judge as well +as party, has no difficulty in getting his claim established. He is for ever +reminding us that he loves philosophy and only satirizes the degenerate +philosophers of his day. But it <i>will</i> occur to us after reading him +through that he has dissembled his love, then, very well. There is not a +passage from beginning to end of his works that indicates any real +comprehension of any philosophic system. The external characteristics of the +philosophers, the absurd stories current about them, and the popular +misrepresentations of their doctrines—it is in these that philosophy +consists for him. That he had read some of them there is no doubt; but one has +an uneasy suspicion that he read Plato because he liked his humour and his +style, and did not trouble himself about anything further. Gibbon speaks of +‘the philosophic maze of the writings of Plato, of which the dramatic is +perhaps more interesting than the argumentative part.’ That is quite a +legitimate opinion, provided you do not undertake to judge philosophy in the +light of it. The apparently serious rejection of geometrical truth in the +<i>Hermotimus</i> may fairly suggest that Lucian was as unphilosophic as he was +unmathematical. Twice, and perhaps twice only, does he express hearty +admiration for a philosopher. Demonax is ‘the best of all philosophers’; but +then he admired him just because he was so little of a philosopher and so much +a man of ordinary common sense. And Epicurus is ‘the thinker who had grasped +the nature of things and been in solitary possession of truth’; but then that +is in the <i>Alexander</i>, and any stick was good enough to beat that dog +with. The fact is, Lucian was much too well satisfied with his own judgement to +think that he could possibly require guidance, and the commonplace test of +results was enough to assure him that philosophy was worthless: ‘It is no use +having all theory at your fingers’ ends, if you do not conform your conduct to +the right.’ There is a description in the <i>Pantomime</i> that is perhaps +truer than it is meant to pass for. ‘Lycinus’ is called ‘an educated man, and +<i>in some sort</i> a student of philosophy.’ +</p> + +<p> +If he is not a philosopher, he is very much a moralist; it is because +philosophy deals partly with morals that he thinks he cares for it. But here +too his conclusions are of a very commonsense order. The Stoic notion that +‘Virtue consists in being uncomfortable’ strikes him as merely absurd; no +asceticism for him; on the other hand, no lavish extravagance and <i>Persici +apparatus</i>; a dinner of herbs with the righteous—that is, the +cultivated Athenian—, a neat repast of Attic taste, is honestly his idea +of good living; it is probable that he really did sacrifice both money and fame +to live in Athens rather than in Rome, according to his own ideal. That ideal +is a very modest one; when <i>Menippus</i> took all the trouble to get down to +Tiresias in Hades via Babylon, his reward was the information that ‘the life of +the ordinary man is the best and the most prudent choice.’ So thought Lucian; +and it is to be counted to him for righteousness that he decided to abandon +‘the odious practices that his profession imposes on the advocate—deceit, +falsehood, bluster, clamour, pushing,’ for the quiet life of a literary man +(especially as we should probably never have heard his name had he done +otherwise). Not that the life was so quiet as it might have been. He could not +keep his satire impersonal enough to avoid incurring enmities. He boasts in the +<i>Peregrine</i> of the unfeeling way in which he commented on that enthusiast +to his followers, and we may believe his assurance that his writings brought +general dislike and danger upon him. His moralizing (of which we are happy to +say there is a great deal) is based on Tiresias’s pronouncement. Moralizing has +a bad name; but than good moralizing there is, when one has reached a certain +age perhaps, no better reading. Some of us like it even in our novels, feel +more at home with Fielding and Thackeray for it, and regretfully confess +ourselves unequal to the artistic aloofness of a Flaubert. Well, Lucian’s +moralizings are, for those who like such things, of the right quality; they are +never dull, and the touch is extremely light. We may perhaps be pardoned for +alluding to half a dozen conceptions that have a specially modern air about +them. The use that Rome may serve as a school of resistance to temptation +(<i>Nigrinus</i>, 19) recalls Milton’s ‘fugitive and cloistered virtue, +unexercised and unbreathed, that never sallies out and seeks her adversary.’ +‘Old age is wisdom’s youth, the day of her glorious flower’ (<i>Heracles</i>, +8) might have stood as a text for Browning’s <i>Rabbi ben Ezra</i>. The brands +visible on the tyrant’s soul, and the refusal of Lethe as a sufficient +punishment (<i>Voyage to the lower World</i>, 24 and 28), have their parallels +in our new eschatology. The decision of <i>Zeus</i> that <i>Heraclitus</i> and +<i>Democritus</i> are to be one lot that laughter and tears will go together +(<i>Sale of Creeds</i>, l3)—accords with our views of the emotional +temperament. <i>Chiron</i> is impressive on the vanity of fruition +(<i>Dialogues of the Dead</i>, 26). And the figuring of <i>Truth</i> as ‘the +shadowy creature with the indefinite complexion’ (<i>The Fisher</i>, 16) is +only one example of Lucian’s felicity in allegory. +</p> + +<p> +Another weak point, for which many people will have no more inclination to +condemn him than for his moralizing, is his absolute indifference to the +beauties of nature. Having already given him credit for regarding nothing that +is human as beyond his province, it is our duty to record the corresponding +limitation; of everything that was not human he was simply unconscious; with +him it was not so much that the <i>proper</i> as that the <i>only</i> study of +mankind is man. The apparent exceptions are not real ones. If he is interested +in the gods, it is as the creatures of human folly that he takes them to be. If +he writes a toy essay with much parade of close observation on the fly, it is +to show how amusing human ingenuity can be on an unlikely subject. But it is +worth notice that ‘the first of the moderns,’ though he shows himself in many +descriptions of pictures quite awake to the beauty manufactured by man, has in +no way anticipated the modern discovery that nature is beautiful. To readers +who have had enough of the pathetic fallacy, and of the second-rate novelist’s +local colour, Lucian’s tacit assumption that there is nothing but man is +refreshing. That he was a close enough observer of human nature, any one can +satisfy himself by glancing at the <i>Feast of Lapithae</i>, the <i>Dialogues +of the Hetaerae</i>, some of the <i>Dialogues of the Gods</i>, and perhaps best +of all, <i>The Liar</i>. +</p> + +<p> +As it occurs to himself to repel the imputation of plagiarism in <i>A literary +Prometheus</i>, the point must be briefly touched upon. There is no doubt that +Homer preceded him in making the gods extremely, even comically, human, that +Plato showed him an example of prose dialogue, that Aristophanes inspired his +constructive fancy, that Menippus provided him with some ideas, how far +developed on the same lines we cannot now tell, that Menander’s comedies and +Herodas’s mimes contributed to the absolute naturalness of his conversation. If +any, or almost any, of these had never existed, Lucian would have been more or +less different from what he is. His originality is not in the least affected by +that; we may resolve him theoretically into his elements; but he too had the +gift, that out of three sounds he framed, not a fourth sound, but a star. The +question of his originality is no more important—indeed much less +so—than that of Sterne’s. +</p> + +<p> +When we pass to purely literary matters, the first thing to be remarked upon is +the linguistic miracle presented to us. It is useless to dwell upon it in +detail, since this is an introduction not to Lucian, but to a translation of +Lucian; it exists, none the less. A Syrian writes in Greek, and not in the +Greek of his own time, but in that of five or six centuries before, and he does +it, if not with absolute correctness, yet with the easy mastery that we expect +only from one in a million of those who write in their mother tongue, and takes +his place as an immortal classic. The miracle may be repeated; an +English-educated Hindu may produce masterpieces of Elizabethan English that +will rank him with Bacon and Ben Jonson; but it will surprise us, when it does +happen. That Lucian was himself aware of the awful dangers besetting the writer +who would revive an obsolete fashion of speech is shown in the +<i>Lexiphanes</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Some faults of style he undoubtedly has, of which a word or two should perhaps +be said. The first is the general taint of rhetoric, which is sometimes +positively intolerable, and is liable to spoil enjoyment even of the best +pieces occasionally. Were it not that ‘Rhetoric made a Greek of me,’ we should +wish heartily that he had never been a rhetorician. It is the practice of +talking on unreal cases, doubtless habitual with him up to forty, that must be +responsible for the self-satisfied fluency, the too great length, and the +perverse ingenuity, that sometimes excite our impatience. Naturally, it is in +the pieces of inferior subject or design that this taint is most perceptible; +and it must be forgiven in consideration of the fact that without the toilsome +study of rhetoric he would not have been the master of Greek that he was. +</p> + +<p> +The second is perhaps only a special case of the first. Julius Pollux, a +sophist whom Lucian is supposed to have attacked in <i>The Rhetorician’s Vade +mecum</i>, is best known as author of an <i>Onomasticon</i>, or word-list, +containing the most important words relating to certain subjects. One would be +reluctant to believe that Lucian condescended to use his enemy’s manual; but it +is hard to think that he had not one of his own, of which he made much too good +use. The conviction is constantly forced on a translator that when Lucian has +said a thing sufficiently once, he has looked at his Onomasticon, found that +there are some words he has not yet got in, and forthwith said the thing again +with some of them, and yet again with the rest. +</p> + +<p> +The third concerns his use of illustrative anecdotes, comparisons, and phrases. +It is true that, if his pieces are taken each separately, he is most happy with +all these (though it is hard to forgive Alexander’s bathe in the Cydnus with +which <i>The Hall</i> opens); but when they are read continuously, the repeated +appearances of the tragic actor disrobed, the dancing apes and their nuts, of +Zeus’s golden cord, and of the ‘two octaves apart,’ produce an impression of +poverty that makes us momentarily forget his real wealth. +</p> + +<p> +We have spoken of the annoying tendency to pleonasm in Lucian’s style, which +must be laid at the door of rhetoric. On the other hand let it have part of the +credit for a thing of vastly more importance, his choice of dialogue as a form +when he took to letters. It is quite obvious that he was naturally a man of +detached mind, with an inclination for looking at both sides of a question. +This was no doubt strengthened by the common practice among professional +rhetoricians of writing speeches on both sides of imaginary cases. The +level-headedness produced by this combination of nature and training naturally +led to the selection of dialogue. In one of the preliminary trials of <i>The +double Indictment, Drink</i>, being one of the parties, and consciously +incapable at the moment of doing herself justice, employs her opponent, <i>The +Academy</i>, to plead for as well as against her. There are a good many pieces +in which Lucian follows the same method. In <i>The Hall</i> the legal form is +actually kept; in the <i>Peregrine</i> speeches are delivered by an admirer and +a scorner of the hero; in <i>The Rhetorician’s Vade mecum</i> half the piece is +an imaginary statement of the writer’s enemy; in the <i>Apology for ‘The +dependent Scholar’</i> there is a long imaginary objection set up to be +afterwards disposed of; the <i>Saturnalian Letters</i> are the cases of rich +and poor put from opposite sides. None of these are dialogues; but they are all +less perfect devices to secure the same object, the putting of the two views +that the man of detached mind recognizes on every question. Not that justice is +always the object; these devices, and dialogue still more, offer the further +advantage of economy; no ideas need be wasted, if the subject is treated from +more than one aspect. The choice of dialogue may be accounted for thus; it is +true that it would not have availed much if the chooser had not possessed the +nimble wit and the endless power of varying the formula which is so astonishing +in Lucian; but that it was a matter of importance is proved at once by +comparing the <i>Alexander</i> with <i>The Liar</i>, or <i>The dependent +Scholar</i> with the <i>Feast of Lapithae</i>. Lucian’s non-dialogue pieces +(with the exception of <i>The True History</i>) might have been written by +other people; the dialogues are all his own. +</p> + +<p> +About five-and-thirty of his pieces (or sets of pieces) are in dialogue, and +perhaps the greatest proof of his artistic skill is that the form never palls; +so great is the variety of treatment that no one of them is like another. The +point may be worth dwelling on a little. The main differences between +dialogues, apart from the particular writer’s characteristics, are these: the +persons may be two only, or more; they may be well or ill-matched; the +proportions and relations between conversation and narrative vary; and the +objects in view are not always the same. It is natural for a writer to fall +into a groove with some or all of these, and produce an effect of sameness. +Lucian, on the contrary, so rings the changes by permutations and combinations +of them that each dialogue is approached with a delightful uncertainty of what +form it may take. As to number of persons, it is a long step from the +<i>Menippus</i> to the crowded <i>dramatis personae</i> of <i>The Fisher</i> or +the <i>Zeus Tragoedus</i>, in the latter of which there are two independent +sets, one overhearing and commenting upon the other. It is not much less, +though of another kind, from <i>The Parasite</i>, where the interlocutor is +merely a man of straw, to the <i>Hermotimus</i>, where he has life enough to +give us ever fresh hopes of a change in fortune, or to the <i>Anacharsis</i>, +where we are not quite sure, even when all is over, which has had the best. +Then if we consider conversation and narrative, there are all kinds. +<i>Nigrinus</i> has narrative in a setting of dialogue, <i>Demosthenes</i> vice +versa, <i>The Liar</i> reported dialogue inside dialogue; <i>Icaromenippus</i> +is almost a narrative, while <i>The Runaways</i> is almost a play. Lastly, the +form serves in the <i>Toxaris</i> as a vehicle for stories, in the +<i>Hermotimus</i> for real discussion, in <i>Menippus</i> as relief for +narrative, in the <i>Portrait-study</i> for description, in <i>The Cock</i> to +convey moralizing, in <i>The double Indictment</i> autobiography, in the +<i>Lexiphanes</i> satire, and in the short series it enshrines prose idylls. +</p> + +<p> +These are considerations of a mechanical order, perhaps; it may be admitted +that technical skill of this sort is only valuable in giving a proper chance to +more essential gifts; but when those exist, it is of the highest value. And +Lucian’s versatility in technique is only a symbol of his versatile powers in +general. He is equally at home in heaven and earth and hell, with philosophers +and cobblers, telling a story, criticizing a book, describing a picture, +elaborating an allegory, personifying an abstraction, parodying a poet or a +historian, flattering an emperor’s mistress, putting an audience into good +temper with him and itself, unveiling an imposture, destroying a religion or a +reputation, drawing a character. The last is perhaps the most disputable of the +catalogue. How many of his personages are realities to us when we have read, +and not mere labels for certain modes of thought or conduct? Well, +characterization is not the first, but only the second thing with him; what is +said matters rather more than who says it; he is more desirous that the +argument should advance than that the person should reveal himself; +nevertheless, nothing is ever said that is out of character; while nothing can +be better of the kind than some of his professed personifications, his +<i>Plutus</i> or his <i>Philosophy</i>, we do retain distinct impressions of at +least an irresponsible <i>Zeus</i> and a decorously spiteful <i>Hera</i>, a +well-meaning, incapable <i>Helius</i>, a bluff <i>Posidon</i>, a gallant +<i>Prometheus</i>, a one-idea’d <i>Charon</i>; <i>Timon</i> is more than +misanthropy, <i>Eucrates</i> than superstition, <i>Anacharsis</i> than +intelligent curiosity, <i>Micyllus</i> than ignorant poverty, poor +<i>Hermotimus</i> than blind faith, and Lucian than a scoffer. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3>THE WORKS OF LUCIAN</h3> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap03"></a>THE VISION</h3> + +<p class="center"> +A CHAPTER OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY +</p> + +<p> +When my childhood was over, and I had just left school, my father called a +council to decide upon my profession. Most of his friends considered that the +life of culture was very exacting in toil, time, and money: a life only for +fortune’s favourites; whereas our resources were quite narrow, and urgently +called for relief. If I were to take up some ordinary handicraft, I should be +making my own living straight off, instead of eating my father’s meat at my +age; and before long my earnings would be a welcome contribution. +</p> + +<p> +So the next step was to select the most satisfactory of the handicrafts; it +must be one quite easy to acquire, respectable, inexpensive as regards plant, +and fairly profitable. Various suggestions were made, according to the taste +and knowledge of the councillors; but my father turned to my mother’s brother, +supposed to be an excellent statuary, and said to him: ‘With you here, it would +be a sin to prefer any other craft; take the lad, regard him as your charge, +teach him to handle, match, and grave your marble; he will do well enough; you +know he has the ability.’ This he had inferred from certain tricks I used to +play with wax. When I got out of school, I used to scrape off the wax from my +tablets and work it into cows, horses, or even men and women, and he thought I +did it creditably; my masters used to cane me for it, but on this occasion it +was taken as evidence of a natural faculty, and my modelling gave them good +hopes of my picking up the art quickly. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as it seemed convenient for me to begin, I was handed over to my uncle, +and by no means reluctantly; I thought I should find it amusing, and be in a +position to impress my companions; they should see me chiselling gods and +making little images for myself and my favourites. The usual first experience +of beginners followed: my uncle gave me a chisel, and told me to give a gentle +touch to a plaque lying on the bench: ‘Well begun is half done,’ said he, not +very originally. In my inexperience I brought down the tool too hard, and the +plaque broke; he flew into a rage, picked up a stick which lay handy, and gave +me an introduction to art which might have been gentler and more encouraging; +so I paid my footing with tears. +</p> + +<p> +I ran off, and reached home still howling and tearful, told the story of the +stick, and showed my bruises. I said a great deal about his brutality, and +added that it was all envy: he was afraid of my being a better sculptor than +he. My mother was very angry, and abused her brother roundly; as for me, I fell +asleep that night with my eyes still wet, and sorrow was with me till the +morning. +</p> + +<p> +So much of my tale is ridiculous and childish. What you have now to hear, +gentlemen, is not so contemptible, but deserves an attentive hearing; in the +words of Homer, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + To me in slumber wrapt a dream divine<br/> + Ambrosial night conveyed,<br/> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +a dream so vivid as to be indistinguishable from reality; after all these +years, I have still the figures of its persons in my eyes, the vibration of +their words in my ears; so clear it all was. +</p> + +<p> +Two women had hold of my hands, and were trying vehemently and persistently to +draw me each her way; I was nearly pulled in two with their contention; now one +would prevail and all but get entire possession of me, now I would fall to the +other again, All the time they were exchanging loud protests: ‘He is mine, and +I mean to keep him;’ ‘Not yours at all, and it is no use your saying he is.’ +One of them seemed to be a working woman, masculine looking, with untidy hair, +horny hands, and dress kilted up; she was all powdered with plaster, like my +uncle when he was chipping marble. The other had a beautiful face, a comely +figure, and neat attire. At last they invited me to decide which of them I +would live with; the rough manly one made her speech first. +</p> + +<p> +‘Dear youth, I am Statuary—the art which you yesterday began to learn, +and which has a natural and a family claim upon you. Your grandfather’ (naming +my mother’s father) ‘and both your uncles practised it, and it brought them +credit. If you will turn a deaf ear to this person’s foolish cajolery, and come +and live with me, I promise you wholesome food and good strong muscles; you +shall never fear envy, never leave your country and your people to go wandering +abroad, and you shall be commended not for your words, but for your works. +</p> + +<p> +‘Let not a slovenly person or dirty clothes repel you; such were the conditions +of that Phidias who produced the Zeus, of Polyclitus who created the Hera, of +the much-lauded Myron, of the admired Praxiteles; and all these are worshipped +with the Gods. If you should come to be counted among them, you will surely +have fame enough for yourself through all the world, you will make your father +the envy of all fathers, and bring your country to all men’s notice.’ This and +more said Statuary, stumbling along in a strange jargon, stringing her +arguments together in a very earnest manner, and quite intent on persuading me. +But I can remember no more; the greater part of it has faded from my memory. +When she stopped, the other’s turn came. +</p> + +<p> +‘And I, child, am Culture, no stranger to you even now, though you have yet to +make my closer acquaintance. The advantages that the profession of a sculptor +will bring with it you have just been told; they amount to no more than being a +worker with your hands, your whole prospects in life limited to that; you will +be obscure, poorly and illiberally paid, mean-spirited, of no account outside +your doors; your influence will never help a friend, silence an enemy, nor +impress your countrymen; you will be just a worker, one of the masses, cowering +before the distinguished, truckling to the eloquent, living the life of a hare, +a prey to your betters. You may turn out a Phidias or a Polyclitus, to be sure, +and create a number of wonderful works; but even so, though your art will be +generally commended, no sensible observer will be found to wish himself like +you; whatever your real qualities, you will always rank as a common craftsman +who makes his living with his hands. +</p> + +<p> +‘Be governed by me, on the other hand, and your first reward shall be a view of +the many wondrous deeds and doings of the men of old; you shall hear their +words and know them all, what manner of men they were; and your soul, which is +your very self, I will adorn with many fair adornments, with self-mastery and +justice and reverence and mildness, with consideration and understanding and +fortitude, with love of what is beautiful, and yearning for what is great; +these things it is that are the true and pure ornaments of the soul. Naught +shall escape you either of ancient wisdom or of present avail; nay, the future +too, with me to aid, you shall foresee; in a word, I will instill into you, and +that in no long time, all knowledge human and divine. +</p> + +<p> +‘This penniless son of who knows whom, contemplating but now a vocation so +ignoble, shall soon be admired and envied of all, with honour and praise and +the fame of high achievement, respected by the high-born and the affluent, +clothed as I am clothed’ (and here she pointed to her own bright raiment), +‘held worthy of place and precedence; and if you leave your native land, you +will be no unknown nameless wanderer; you shall wear my marks upon you, and +every man beholding you shall touch his neighbour’s arm and say, That is he. +</p> + +<p> +‘And if some great moment come to try your friends or country, then shall all +look to you. And to your lightest word the many shall listen open-mouthed, and +marvel, and count you happy in your eloquence, and your father in his son. ’Tis +said that some from mortal men become immortal; and I will make it truth in +you; for though you depart from life yourself, you shall keep touch with the +learned and hold communion with the best. Consider the mighty Demosthenes, +whose son he was, and whither I exalted him; consider Aeschines; how came a +Philip to pay court to the cymbal-woman’s brat? how but for my sake? Dame +Statuary here had the breeding of Socrates himself; but no sooner could he +discern the better part, than he deserted her and enlisted with me; since when, +his name is on every tongue. +</p> + +<p> +‘You may dismiss all these great men, and with them all glorious deeds, +majestic words, and seemly looks, all honour, repute, praise, precedence, +power, and office, all lauded eloquence and envied wisdom; these you may put +from you, to gird on a filthy apron and assume a servile guise; then will you +handle crowbars and graving tools, mallets and chisels; you will be bowed over +your work, with eyes and thoughts bent earthwards, abject as abject can be, +with never a free and manly upward look or aspiration; all your care will be to +proportion and fairly drape your works; to proportioning and adorning yourself +you will give little heed enough, making yourself of less account than your +marble.’ +</p> + +<p> +I waited not for her to bring her words to an end, but rose up and spoke my +mind; I turned from that clumsy mechanic woman, and went rejoicing to lady +Culture, the more when I thought upon the stick, and all the blows my +yesterday’s apprenticeship had brought me. For a time the deserted one was +wroth, with clenched fists and grinding teeth; but at last she stiffened, like +another Niobe, into marble. A strange fate, but I must request your belief; +dreams are great magicians, are they not? +</p> + +<p> +Then the other looked upon me and spoke:—‘For this justice done me,’ said +she, ‘you shall now be recompensed; come, mount this car’—and lo, one +stood ready, drawn by winged steeds like Pegasus—, ‘that you may learn +what fair sights another choice would have cost you.’ We mounted, she took the +reins and drove, and I was carried aloft and beheld towns and nations and +peoples from the East to the West; and methought I was sowing like Triptolemus; +but the nature of the seed I cannot call to mind—only this, that men on +earth when they saw it gave praise, and all whom I reached in my flight sent me +on my way with blessings. +</p> + +<p> +When she had presented these things to my eyes, and me to my admirers, she +brought me back, no more clad as when my flight began; I returned, methought, +in glorious raiment. And finding my father where he stood waiting, she showed +him my raiment, and the guise in which I came, and said a word to him upon the +lot which they had come so near appointing for me. All this I saw when scarce +out of my childhood; the confusion and terror of the stick, it may be, stamped +it on my memory. +</p> + +<p> +‘Good gracious,’ says some one, before I have done, ‘what a longwinded lawyer’s +vision!’ ‘This,’ interrupts another, ‘must be a winter dream, to judge by the +length of night required; or perhaps it took three nights, like the making of +Heracles. What has come over him, that he babbles such puerilities? memorable +things indeed, a child in bed, and a very ancient, worn-out dream! what stale +frigid stuff! does he take us for interpreters of dreams?’ Sir, I do not. When +Xenophon related that vision of his which you all know, of his father’s house +on fire and the rest, was it just by way of a riddle? was it in deliberate +ineptitude that he reproduced it? a likely thing in their desperate military +situation, with the enemy surrounding them! no, the relation was to serve a +useful purpose. +</p> + +<p> +Similarly I have had an object in telling you my dream. It is that the young +may be guided to the better way and set themselves to Culture, especially any +among them who is recreant for fear of poverty, and minded to enter the wrong +path, to the ruin of a nature not all ignoble. Such an one will be strengthened +by my tale, I am well assured; in me he will find an apt example; let him only +compare the boy of those days, who started in pursuit of the best and devoted +himself to Culture regardless of immediate poverty, with the man who has now +come back to you, as high in fame, to put it at the lowest, as any stonecutter +of them all. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap04"></a>A LITERARY PROMETHEUS</h3> + +<p> +So you will have me a Prometheus? If your meaning is, my good sir, that my +works, like his, are of clay, I accept the comparison and hail my prototype; +potter me to your heart’s content, though <i>my</i> clay is poor common stuff, +trampled by common feet till it is little better than mud. But perhaps it is in +exaggerated compliment to my ingenuity that you father my books upon the +subtlest of the Titans; in that case I fear men will find a hidden meaning, and +detect an Attic curl on your laudatory lips. Where do you find my ingenuity? in +what consists the great subtlety, the Prometheanism, of my writings? enough for +me if you have not found them sheer earth, all unworthy of Caucasian clay-pits. +How much better a claim to kinship with Prometheus have you gentlemen who win +fame in the courts, engaged in real contests; <i>your</i> works have true life +and breath, ay, and the warmth of fire. That is Promethean indeed, though with +the difference, it may be, that you do not work in clay; your creations are +oftenest of gold; we on the other hand who come before popular audiences and +offer mere lectures are exhibitors of imitations only. However, I have the +general resemblance to Prometheus, as I said before—a resemblance which I +share with the dollmakers—, that my modelling is in clay; but then there +is no motion, as with him, not a sign of life; entertainment and pastime is the +beginning and the end of my work. So I must look for light elsewhere; possibly +the title is a sort of <i>lucus a non lucendo</i>, applied to me as to Cleon in +the comedy: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Full well Prometheus-Cleon plans—the past. +</p> + +<p> +Or again, the Athenians used to call Prometheuses the makers of jars and stoves +and other, clay-workers, with playful reference to the material, and perhaps to +the use of fire in baking the ware. If that is all your ‘Prometheus’ means, you +have aimed your shaft well enough, and flavoured your jest with the right Attic +tartness; my productions are as brittle as their pottery; fling a stone, and +you may smash them all to pieces. +</p> + +<p> +But here some one offers me a crumb of comfort: ‘That was not the likeness he +found between you and Prometheus; he meant to commend your innovating +originality: at a time when human beings did not exist, Prometheus conceived +and fashioned them; he moulded and elaborated certain living things into +agility and beauty; he was practically their creator, though Athene assisted by +putting breath into the clay and bringing the models to life.’ So says my some +one, giving your remark its politest possible turn. Perhaps he has hit the true +meaning; not that I can rest content, however, with the mere credit of +innovation, and the absence of any original to which my work can be referred; +if it is not good as well as original, I assure you I shall be ashamed of it, +bring down my foot and crush it out of existence; its novelty shall not avail +(with me at least) to save its ugliness from annihilation. If I thought +otherwise, I admit that a round dozen of vultures would be none too many for +the liver of a dunce who could not see that ugliness was only aggravated by +strangeness. +</p> + +<p> +Ptolemy, son of Lagus, imported two novelties into Egypt; one was a pure black +Bactrian camel, the other a piebald man, half absolutely black and half +unusually white, the two colours evenly distributed; he invited the Egyptians +to the theatre, and concluded a varied show with these two, expecting to bring +down the house. The audience, however, was terrified by the camel and almost +stampeded; still, it <i>was</i> decked all over with gold, had purple housings +and a richly jewelled bridle, the spoil of Darius’ or Cambyses’ treasury, if +not of Cyrus’ own. As for the man, a few laughed at him, but most shrank as +from a monster. Ptolemy realized that the show was a failure, and the Egyptians +proof against mere novelty, preferring harmony and beauty. So he withdrew and +ceased to prize them; the camel died forgotten, and the parti-coloured man +became the reward of Thespis the fluteplayer for a successful after-dinner +performance. +</p> + +<p> +I am afraid my work is a camel in Egypt, and men’s admiration limited to the +bridle and purple housings; as to combinations, though the components may be of +the most beautiful (as Comedy and Dialogue in the present case), that will not +ensure a good effect, unless the mixture is harmonious and well-proportioned; +it is possible that the resultant of two beauties may be bizarre. The readiest +instance to hand is the centaur: not a lovely creature, you will admit, but a +savage, if the paintings of its drunken bouts and murders go for anything. +Well, but on the other hand is it not possible for two such components to +result in beauty, as the combination of wine and honey in superlative +sweetness? That is my belief; but I am not prepared to maintain that <i>my</i> +components have that property; I fear the mixture may only have obscured their +separate beauties. +</p> + +<p> +For one thing, there was no great original connexion or friendship between +Dialogue and Comedy; the former was a stay-at-home, spending his time in +solitude, or at most taking a stroll with a few intimates; whereas Comedy put +herself in the hands of Dionysus, haunted the theatre, frolicked in company, +laughed and mocked and tripped it to the flute when she saw good; nay, she +would mount her anapaests, as likely as not, and pelt the friends of Dialogue +with nicknames—doctrinaires, airy metaphysicians, and the like. The thing +she loved of all else was to chaff them and drench them in holiday +impertinence, exhibit them treading on air and arguing with the clouds, or +measuring the jump of a flea, as a type of their ethereal refinements. But +Dialogue continued his deep speculations upon Nature and Virtue, till, as the +musicians say, the interval between them was two full octaves, from the highest +to the lowest note. This ill-assorted pair it is that we have dared to unite +and harmonize—reluctant and ill-disposed for reconciliation. +</p> + +<p> +And here comes in the apprehension of yet another Promethean analogy: have I +confounded male and female, and incurred the penalty? Or no—when will +resemblances end?—have I, rather, cheated my hearers by serving them up +bones wrapped in fat, comic laughter in philosophic solemnity? As for +stealing—for Prometheus is the thief’s patron too—I defy you there; +that is the one fault you cannot find with me: from whom should I have stolen? +if any one has dealt before me in such forced unions and hybrids, I have never +made his acquaintance. But after all, what am I to do? I have made my bed, and +I must lie in it; Epimetheus may change his mind, but Prometheus, never. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap05"></a>NIGRINUS</h3> + +<p> +[Lucian to Nigrinus. Health. +</p> + +<p> +There is a proverb about carrying ‘owls to Athens’—an absurd undertaking, +considering the excellent supply already on the spot. Had it been my intention, +in presenting Nigrinus with a volume of my composition, to indulge him of all +people with a display of literary skill, I should indeed have been an arrant +‘owl-fancier in Athens.’ As however my object is merely to communicate to you +my present sentiments, and the profound impression produced upon me by your +eloquence, I may fairly plead Not Guilty, even to the charge of Thucydides, +that ‘Men are bold from ignorance, where mature consideration would render them +cautious.’ For I need not say that devotion to my subject is partly responsible +for my present hardihood; it is not <i>all</i> the work of ignorance. +Farewell.] +</p> + +<h4>NIGRINUS</h4> + +<p class="center"> +A DIALOGUE +</p> + +<p> +<i>Lucian. A Friend</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fr</i>. What a haughty and dignified Lucian returns to us from his journey! +He will not vouchsafe us a glance; he stands aloof, and will hold no further +communion with us. Altogether a supercilious Lucian! The change is sudden. +Might one inquire the cause of this altered demeanour? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Luc</i>. ’Tis the work of Fortune. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fr</i>. Of Fortune! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Luc</i>. As an incidental result of my journey, you see in me a happy man; +‘thrice-blest,’ as the tragedians have it. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fr</i>. Dear me. What, in this short time? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Luc</i>. Even so. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fr</i>. But what does it all mean? What is the secret of your elation? I +decline to rejoice with you in this abridged fashion; I must have details. Tell +me all about it. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Luc</i>. What should you think, if I told you that I had exchanged servitude +for freedom; poverty for true wealth; folly and presumption for good sense? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fr</i>. Extraordinary! But I am not quite clear of your meaning yet. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Luc</i>. Why, I went off to Rome to see an oculist—my eyes had been +getting worse— +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fr</i>. Yes, I know about that. I have been hoping that you would light on a +good man. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Luc</i>. Well, I got up early one morning with the intention of paying a +long-deferred visit to Nigrinus, the Platonic philosopher. On reaching his +house, I knocked, and was duly announced and admitted to his presence. I found +him with a book in his hand, surrounded by various statues of the ancient +philosophers. Before him lay a tablet, with geometrical figures described on +it, and a globe of reeds, designed apparently to represent the universe. He +greeted me cordially, and asked after my welfare. I satisfied his inquiries, +and demanded, in my turn, how he did, and whether he had decided on another +trip to Greece. Once on that subject, he gave free expression to his +sentiments; and, I assure you, ’twas a veritable feast of ambrosia to me. The +spells of the Sirens (if ever there were Sirens), of the Pindaric ‘Charmers,’ +of the Homeric lotus, are things to be forgotten, after his truly divine +eloquence. Led on by his theme, he spoke the praises of philosophy, and of the +freedom which philosophy confers; and expressed his contempt for the vulgar +error which sets a value upon wealth and renown and dominion and power, upon +gold and purple, and all that dazzles the eyes of the world,—and once +attracted my own! I listened with rapt attention, and with a swelling heart. At +the time, I knew not what had come over me; my feelings were indescribable. My +dearest idols, riches and renown, lay shattered; one moment I was ready to shed +bitter tears over the disillusionment, the next, I could have laughed for scorn +of these very things, and was exulting in my escape from the murky atmosphere +of my past life into the brightness of the upper air. The result was curious: I +forgot all about my ophthalmic troubles, in the gradual improvement of my +spiritual vision; for till that day I had grovelled in spiritual blindness. +Little by little I came into the condition with which you were twitting me just +now. Nigrinus’s words have raised in me a joyous exaltation of spirit which +precludes every meaner thought. Philosophy seems to have produced the same +effect on me as wine is said to have produced on the Indians the first time +they drank it. The mere taste of such potent liquor threw them into a state of +absolute frenzy, the intoxicating power of the wine being doubled in men so +warm-blooded by nature. This is my case. I go about like one possessed; I am +drunk with the words of wisdom. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fr</i>. This is not drunkenness, but sobriety and temperance. But I should +like to hear what Nigrinus actually said, if that may be. It is only right that +you should take that trouble for me; I am your friend, and share your +interests. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Luc</i>. Enough! You urge a willing steed. I was about to bespeak your +attention. You must be my witness to the world, that there is reason in my +madness. Indeed, apart from this, the work of recollection is a pleasure, and +has become a constant practice with me; twice, thrice in a day I repeat over +his words, though there is none to hear. A lover, in the absence of his +mistress, remembers some word, some act of hers, dwells on it, and beguiles +hours of sickness with her feigned presence. Sometimes he thinks he is face to +face with her; words, heard long since, come again from her lips; he rejoices; +his soul cleaves to the memory of the past, and has no time for present +vexations. It is so with me. Philosophy is far away, but I have heard a +philosopher’s words. I piece them together, and revolve them in my heart, and +am comforted. Nigrinus is the beacon-fire on which, far out in mid-ocean, in +the darkness of night, I fix my gaze; I fancy him present with me in all my +doings; I hear ever the same words. At times, in moments of concentration, I +see his very face, his voice rings in my ears. Of him it may truly be said, as +of Pericles, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +In every heart he left his sting. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fr</i>. Stay, gentle enthusiast. Take a good breath, and start again; I am +waiting to hear what Nigrinus said. You beat about the bush in a manner truly +exasperating. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Luc</i>. True, I must make a start, as you say. And yet… Tell me, did you +never see a tragedy (nay, the comedies fare no better) murdered by bad acting, +and the culprits finally hissed off the stage for their pains? As often as not +the play is a perfectly good one, and has scored a success. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fr</i>. I know the sort of thing; and what about it? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Luc</i>. I am afraid that before I have done you will find that I make as +sad work of it as they do,—jumbling things together pell-mell, spoiling +the whole point sometimes by inadequate expression; and you will end by damning +the play instead of the actor. I could put up with my own share of the +disgrace; but it would vex me indeed, that my subject should be involved in my +downfall; I cannot have <i>it</i> discredited for my shortcomings. Remember, +then: whatever the imperfections in my speech, the author is not to be called +to account; he sits far aloof from the stage, and knows nothing of what is +going forward. The memory of the actor is all that you are invited to +criticize; I am neither more nor less than the ‘Messenger’ in a tragedy. At +each flaw in the argument, be this your first thought, that the author probably +said something quite different, and much more to the point;—and then you +may hiss me off if you will. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fr</i>. Bless me; here is quite a professional exordium! You are about to +add, I think, that ‘your consultation with your client has been but brief’; +that you ‘come into court imperfectly instructed’; that ‘it were to be desired +that your client were here to plead his own cause; as it is, you are reduced to +such a meagre and inadequate statement of the case, as memory will supply.’ Am +I right? Well then, spare yourself the trouble, as far as I am concerned. +Imagine all these preliminaries settled. I stand prepared to applaud: but if +you keep me waiting, I shall harbour resentment all through the case, and hiss +you accordingly. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Luc</i>. I should, indeed, have been glad to avail myself of the arguments +you mention, and of others too. I might have said, that mine would be no set +speech, no orderly statement such as that I heard; that is wholly beyond me. +Nor can I speak in the person of Nigrinus. There again I should be like a bad +actor, taking the part of Agamemnon, or Creon, or Heracles’ self; he is arrayed +in cloth of gold, and looks very formidable, and his mouth opens tremendously +wide; and what comes out of it? A little, shrill, womanish pipe of a voice that +would disgrace Polyxena or Hecuba! I for my part have no intention of exposing +myself in a mask several sizes too large for me, or of wearing a robe to which +I cannot do credit. Rather than play the hero’s part, and involve him in my +discomfiture, I will speak in my own person. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fr</i>. Will the man never have done with his masks and his stages? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Luc</i>. Nay, that is all. And now to my subject. Nigrinus’s first words +were in praise of Greece, and in particular of the Athenians. They are brought +up, he said, to poverty and to philosophy. The endeavours, whether of +foreigners or of their own countrymen, to introduce luxury into their midst, +find no favour with them. When a man comes among them with this view, they +quietly set about to correct his tendency, and by gentle degrees to bring him +to a better course of life. He mentioned the case of a wealthy man who arrived +at Athens in all the vulgar pomp of retinue and gold and gorgeous raiment, +expecting that every eye would be turned upon him in envy of his lot; instead +of which, they heartily pitied the poor worm, and proceeded to take his +education in hand. Not an ill-natured word, not an attempt at direct +interference: it was a free city; he was at liberty to live in it as he thought +fit. But when he made a public nuisance of himself in the baths or gymnasiums, +crowding in with his attendants, and taking up all the room, someone would +whisper, in a sly aside, as if the words were not meant to reach his ears: ‘He +is afraid he will never come out from here alive; yet all is peace; there is no +need of such an army.’ The remark would be overheard, and would have its +educational effect. They soon eased him of his embroidery and purple, by +playful allusions to flower and colour. ‘Spring is early.’—‘How did that +peacock get here?’—‘His mother must have lent him that shawl,’—and +so on. The same with the rest, his rings, his elaborate coiffure, and his table +excesses. Little by little he came to his senses, and left Athens very much the +better for the public education he had received. +</p> + +<p> +Nor do they scruple to confess their poverty. He mentioned a sentence which he +heard pronounced unanimously by the assembled people at the Panathenaic +festival. A citizen had been arrested and brought before the Steward for making +his appearance in coloured clothes. The onlookers felt for him, and took his +part; and when the herald declared that he had violated the law by attending +the festival in that attire, they all exclaimed with one voice, as if they had +been in consultation, ‘that he must be pardoned for wearing those clothes, as +he had no others.’ +</p> + +<p> +He further commended the Athenian liberty, and unpretentious style of living; +the peace and learned leisure which they so abundantly enjoy. To dwell among +such men, he declared, is to dwell with philosophy; a single-hearted man, who +has been taught to despise wealth, may here preserve a pure morality; no life +could be more in harmony with the determined pursuit of all that is truly +beautiful. But the man over whom gold has cast its spell, who is in love with +riches, and measures happiness by purple raiment and dominion, who, living his +life among flatterers and slaves, knows not the sweets of freedom, the +blessings of candour, the beauty of truth; he who has given up his soul to +Pleasure, and will serve no other mistress, whose heart is set on gluttony and +wine and women, on whose tongue are deceit and hypocrisy; he again whose ears +must be tickled with lascivious songs, and the voluptuous notes of flute and +lyre;—let all such (he cried) dwell here in Rome; the life will suit +them. Our streets and market-places are filled with the things they love best. +They may take in pleasure through every aperture, through eye and ear, nostril +and palate; nor are the claims of Aphrodite forgotten. The turbid stream surges +everlastingly through our streets; avarice, perjury, adultery,—all tastes +are represented. Under that rush of waters, modesty, virtue, uprightness, are +torn from the soul; and in their stead grows the tree of perpetual thirst, +whose flowers are many strange desires. +</p> + +<p> +Such was Rome; such were the blessings she taught men to enjoy. ‘As for me,’ he +continued, ‘on returning from my first voyage to Greece, I stopped short a +little way from the city, and called myself to account, in the words of Homer, +for my return. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Ah, wretch! and leav’st thou then the light of day—the joyous freedom of +Greece,<br/> +And wouldst behold— +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +the turmoil of Rome? slander and insolence and gluttony, flatterers and false +friends, legacy-hunters and murderers? And what wilt thou do here? thou canst +not endure these things, neither canst thou escape them! Thus reasoning, I +withdrew myself out of range, as Zeus did Hector, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Far from the scene of slaughter, blood and strife, +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +and resolved henceforth to keep my house. I lead the life you see—a +spiritless, womanish life, most men would account it—holding converse +with Philosophy, with Plato, with Truth. From my high seat in this vast +theatre, I look down on the scene beneath me; a scene calculated to afford much +entertainment; calculated also to try a man’s resolution to the utmost. For, to +give evil its due, believe me, there is no better school for virtue, no truer +test of moral strength, than life in this same city of Rome. It is no easy +thing, to withstand so many temptations, so many allurements and distractions +of sight and sound. There is no help for it: like Odysseus, we must sail past +them all; and there must be no binding of hands, no stopping of our ears with +wax; that would be but sorry courage: our ears must hear, our hands must be +free,—and our contempt must be genuine. Well may that man conceive an +admiration of philosophy, who is a spectator of so much folly; well may he +despise the gifts of Fortune, who views this stage, and its multitudinous +actors. The slave grows to be master, the rich man is poor, the pauper becomes +a prince, a king; and one is His Majesty’s friend, and another is his enemy, +and a third he banishes. And here is the strangest thing of all: the affairs of +mankind are confessedly the playthings of Fortune, they have no pretence to +security; yet, with instances of this daily before their eyes, men will reach +after wealth and power;—not one of them but carries his load of hopes +unrealized. +</p> + +<p> +‘But I said that there was entertainment also to be derived from the scene; and +I will maintain it. Our rich men are an entertainment in themselves, with their +purple and their rings always in evidence, and their thousand vulgarities. The +latest development is the <i>salutation by proxy</i>; [Footnote: The +<i>spoken</i> salutation being performed by a servant.] they favour us with a +glance, and that must be happiness enough. By the more ambitious spirits, an +obeisance is expected; this is not performed at a distance, after the Persian +fashion—you go right up, and make a profound bow, testifying with the +angle of your body to the self-abasement of your soul; you then kiss his hand +or breast—and happy and enviable is he who may do so much! And there +stands the great man, protracting the illusion as long as may be. (I heartily +acquiesce, by the way, in the churlish sentence which excludes us from a nearer +acquaintance with their <i>lips</i>.) +</p> + +<p> +‘But if these men are amusing, their courtiers and flatterers are doubly so. +They rise in the small hours of the night, to go their round of the city, to +have doors slammed in their faces by slaves, to swallow as best they may the +compliments of “Dog,” “Toadeater,” and the like. And the guerdon of their +painful circumambulations? A vulgarly magnificent dinner, the source of many +woes! They eat too much, they drink more than they want, they talk more than +they should; and then they go away, angry and disappointed, grumbling at their +fare, and protesting against the scant courtesy shown them by their insolent +patron. You may see them vomiting in every alley, squabbling at every brothel. +The daylight most of them spend in bed, furnishing employment for the doctors. +Most of them, I say; for with some it has come to this, that they actually have +no time to be ill. My own opinion is that, of the two parties, the toadies are +more to blame, and have only themselves to thank for their patron’s insolence. +What can they expect him to think, after their commendations of his wealth, +their panegyrics on money, their early attendance at his doors, their servile +salutations? If by common consent they would abstain, were it only for a few +days, from this voluntary servitude, the tables must surely be turned, and the +rich come to the doors of the paupers, imploring them not to leave such +blessedness as theirs without a witness, their fine houses and elegant +furniture lying idle for want of some one to use them. Not wealth, but the envy +that waits on wealth, is the object of their desire. The truth is, gold and +ivory and noble mansions are of little avail to their owner, if there is no one +to admire them. If we would break the power of the rich, and bring down their +pretensions, we must raise up within their borders a stronghold of +Indifference. As it is, their vanity is fostered by the court that is paid to +them. In ordinary men, who have no pretence to education, this conduct, no +doubt, is less to be blamed. But that men who call themselves philosophers +should actually outdo the rest in degradation,—this, indeed, is the +climax. Imagine my feelings, when I see a brother philosopher, an old man, +perhaps, mingling in the herd of sycophants; dancing attendance on some great +man; adapting himself to the conversational level of a possible host! One +thing, indeed, serves to distinguish him from his company, and to accentuate +his disgrace;—he wears the garb of philosophy. It is much to be regretted +that actors of uniform excellence in other respects will not dress conformably +to their part. For in the achievements of the table, what toadeater besides can +be compared with them? There is an artlessness in their manner of stuffing +themselves, a frankness in their tippling, which defy competition; they sponge +with more spirit than other men, and sit on with greater persistency. It is not +an uncommon thing for the more courtly sages to oblige the company with a +song.’ +</p> + +<p> +All this he treated as a jest. But he had much to say on the subject of those +paid philosophers, who hawk about virtue like any other marketable commodity. +‘Hucksters’ and ‘petty traders’ were his words for them. A man who proposes to +teach the contempt of wealth, should begin (he maintained) by showing a soul +above fees. And certainly he has always acted on this principle himself. He is +not content with giving his services gratis to all comers, but lends a helping +hand to all who are in difficulties, and shows an absolute disregard for +riches. So far is he from grasping at other men’s goods, that he could +anticipate without concern the deterioration of his own property. He possessed +an estate at no great distance from the city, on which for many years he had +never even set foot. Nay, he disclaimed all right of property in it; meaning, I +suppose, that we have no natural claim to such things; law, and the rights of +inheritance, give us the use of them for an indefinite period, and for that +time we are styled ‘owners’; presently our term lapses, and another succeeds to +the enjoyment of a name. +</p> + +<p> +There are other points in which he sets an admirable example to the serious +followers of philosophy: his frugal life, his systematic habits of bodily +exercise, his modest bearing, his simplicity of dress, but above all, gentle +manners and a constant mind. He urges his followers not to postpone the pursuit +of good, as so many do, who allow themselves a period of grace till the next +great festival, after which they propose to eschew deceit and lead a righteous +life; there must be no shilly-shallying, when virtue is the goal for which we +start. On the other hand, there are philosophers whose idea of inculcating +virtue in their youthful disciples is to subject them to various tests of +physical endurance; whose favourite prescription is the strait waistcoat, +varied with flagellations, or the enlightened process of scarification. Of +these Nigrinus evidently had no opinion. According to him, our first care +should be to inure the <i>soul</i> to pain and hardship; he who aspired to +educate men aright must reckon with soul as well as body, with the age of his +pupils, and with their previous training; he would then escape the palpable +blunder of overtasking them. Many a one (he affirmed) had succumbed under the +unreasonable strain put upon him; and I met with an instance myself, of a man +who had tasted the hardships of those schools, but no sooner heard the words of +true wisdom, than he fled incontinently to Nigrinus, and was manifestly the +better for the change. +</p> + +<p> +Leaving the philosophers to themselves, he reverted to more general subjects: +the din and bustle of the city, the theatres, the race-course, the statues of +charioteers, the nomenclature of horses, the horse-talk in every side-street. +The rage for horses has become a positive epidemic; many persons are infected +with it whom one would have credited with more sense. +</p> + +<p> +Then the scene changed to the pomp and circumstance attendant upon funerals and +testamentary dispositions. ‘Only once in his life’ (he observed) ‘does your +thoroughbred Roman say what he means; and then,’ meaning, in his will, ‘it +comes too late for him to enjoy the credit of it.’ I could not help laughing +when he told me how they thought it necessary to carry their follies with them +to the grave, and to leave the record of their inanity behind them in black and +white; some stipulating that their clothes or other treasures should be burnt +with them, others that their graves should be watched by particular servants, +or their monuments crowned with flowers;—sapient end to a life of +sapience! ‘Of their doings in this world,’ said he, ‘you may form some idea +from their injunctions with reference to the next. These are they who will pay +a long price for an entree; whose floors are sprinkled with wine and saffron +and spices; who in midwinter smother themselves in roses, ay, for roses are +scarce, and out of season, and altogether desirable; but let a thing come in +its due course, and oh, ’tis vile, ’tis contemptible. These are they whose +drink is of costly essences.’ He had no mercy on them here. ‘Very bunglers in +sensuality, who know not her laws, and confound her ordinances, flinging down +their souls to be trampled beneath the heels of luxury! As the play has it, +Door or window, all is one to them. Such pleasures are rank solecism.’ One +observation of his in the same spirit fairly caps the famous censure of Momus. +Momus found fault with the divine artificer for not putting his bull’s horns in +front of the eyes. Similarly, Nigrinus complained that when these men crown +themselves in their banquets, they put the garlands in the wrong place; if they +are so fond of the smell of violets and roses, they should tie on their +garlands as close as may be under their nostrils; they could then snuff up the +smell to their hearts’ content. +</p> + +<p> +Proceeding to the gentlemen who make such a serious work of their dinner, he +was exceedingly merry over their painful elaborations of sauce and seasoning. +‘Here again,’ he cried, ‘these men are sore put to it, to procure the most +fleeting of enjoyments. Grant them four inches of palate apiece—’tis the +utmost we can allow any man—and I will prove to you that they have four +inches of gratification for their trouble. Thus: there is no satisfaction to be +got out of the costliest viands before consumption; and after it a full stomach +is none the better for the price it has cost to fill it. <i>Ergo</i>, the money +is paid for the pleasure snatched <i>in transitu</i>. But what are we to +expect? These men are too grossly ignorant to discern those truer pleasures +with which Philosophy rewards our resolute endeavours.’ +</p> + +<p> +The Baths proved a fertile topic, what with the insolence of the masters and +the jostlings of their men;—‘they will not stand without the support of a +slave; it is much that they retain enough vitality to get away on their own +legs at all.’ One practice which obtains in the streets and Baths of Rome +seemed to arouse his particular resentment. Slaves have to walk on ahead of +their masters, and call out to them to ‘look to their feet,’ whenever there is +a hole or a lump in their way; it has come to this, that men must be +<i>reminded that they are walking</i>. ‘It is too much,’ he cried; ‘these men +can get through their dinner with the help of their own teeth and fingers; they +can hear with their own ears: yet they must have other men’s eyes to see for +them! They are in possession of all their faculties: yet they are content to be +spoken to in language which should only be addressed to poor maimed wretches! +And this goes on in broad daylight, in our public places; and among the +sufferers are men who are responsible for the welfare of cities!’ +</p> + +<p> +This he said, and much more to the same effect. At length he was silent. All +the time I had listened in awestruck attention, dreading the moment when he +should cease. And when it was all over, my condition was like that of the +Phaeacians. For a long time I gazed upon him, spellbound; then I was seized +with a violent attack of giddiness; I was bathed in perspiration, and when I +attempted to speak, I broke down; my voice failed, my tongue stammered, and at +last I was reduced to tears. Mine was no surface wound from a random shaft. The +words had sunk deep into a vital part; had come with true aim, and cleft my +soul asunder. For (if I may venture to philosophize on my own account) I +conceive the case thus:-A well-conditioned human soul is like a target of some +soft material. As life goes on, many archers take aim thereat; and every man’s +quiver is full of subtle and varied arguments, but not every man shoots aright. +Some draw the bow too tight, and let fly with undue violence. These hit the +true direction, but their shafts do not lodge in the mark; their impetus +carries them right through the soul, and they pass on their way, leaving only a +gaping wound behind them. Others make the contrary mistake: their bows are too +slack, and their shafts never reach their destination; as often as not their +force is spent at half distance, and they drop to earth. Or if they reach the +mark, they do but graze its surface; there can be no deep wound, where the +archer lacks strength. But a good marksman, a Nigrinus, begins with a careful +examination of the mark, in case it should be particularly soft,—or again +too hard; for there are marks which will take no impression from an arrow. +Satisfied on this point, he dips his shaft, not in the poisons of Scythia or +Crete, but in a certain ointment of his own, which is sweet in flavour and +gentle in operation; then, without more ado, he lets fly. The shaft speeds with +well-judged swiftness, cleaves the mark right through, and remains lodged in +it; and the drug works its way through every part. Thus it is that men hear his +words with mingled joy and grief; and this was my own case, while the drug was +gently diffusing itself through my soul. Hence I was moved to apostrophize him +in the words of Homer: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +So aim; and thou shalt bring (to some) salvation. +</p> + +<p> +For as it is not every man that is maddened by the sound of the Phrygian flute, +but only those who are inspired of Cybele, and by those strains are recalled to +their frenzy,—so too not every man who hears the words of the +philosophers will go away possessed, and stricken at heart, but only those in +whose nature is something akin to philosophy. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fr</i>. These are fearful and wonderful words; nay, they are divine. All +that you said of ambrosia and lotus is true; I little knew how sumptuous had +been your feast. I have listened to you with strange emotion, and now that you +have ceased, I feel oppressed, nay, in your own language, ‘sore stricken.’ This +need not surprise you. A person who has been bitten by a mad dog not only goes +mad himself, you know, but communicates his madness to any one whom he bites +whilst he is in that state, so that the infection may be carried on by this +means through a long succession of persons. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Luc</i>. Ah, then you confess to a tenderness? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fr</i>. I do; and beg that you will think upon some medicine for both our +wounded breasts. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Luc</i>. We must take a hint from Telephus. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fr</i>. What is that? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Luc</i>. We want a hair of the dog that bit us. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap06"></a>TRIAL IN THE COURT OF VOWELS</h3> + +<p class="letter"> +Archon, Aristarchus of Phalerum.<br/> +Seventh Pyanepsion.<br/> +Court of the Seven Vowels.<br/> +Action for assault with robbery.<br/> +Sigma <i>v</i>. Tau.<br/> +Plaintiff’s case—that the words in-ττ-are wrongfully withheld from +him. +</p> + +<p> +Vowels of the jury.—For some time this Mr. Tau’s trespasses and +encroachments on my property were of minor importance; I made no claim for +damages, and affected unconsciousness of what I heard; my conciliatory temper +both you and the other letters have reason to know. His covetousness and folly, +however, have now so puffed him up, that he is no longer content with my +habitual concessions, but insists on more; I accordingly find myself compelled +to get the matter settled by you who know both sides of it. The fact is, I am +in bodily fear, owing to the crushing to which I am subjected. This evergrowing +aggression will end by ousting me completely from my own; I shall be almost +dumb, lose my rank as a letter, and be degraded to a mere noise. +</p> + +<p> +Justice requires then that not merely you, the jury in this case, but the other +letters also, should be on your guard against such attempts. If any one who +chooses is to be licensed to leave his own place and usurp that of others, with +no objection on your part (whose concurrence is an indispensable condition of +all writing), I fail to see how combinations are to have their ancient +constitutional rights secured to them. But my first reliance is upon you, who +will surely never be guilty of the negligence and indifference which permits +injustice; and even if you decline the contest, I have no intention of sitting +down under that injustice myself. +</p> + +<p> +It is much to be regretted that the assaults of other letters were not repelled +when they first began their lawless practices; then we should not be watching +the still pending dispute between Lambda and Rho for possession of +κιφαλαλγία or +κιφαλαργία, +κίσηλις or +κίσηρις: Gamma would not have had to defend +its rights over γυάφαλλα, constantly +almost at blows with Kappa in the debatable land, and <i>per contra</i> it +would itself have dropped its campaign against Lambda (if indeed it is more +dignified than petty larceny) for converting μόλις to +μόγις: in fact lawless confusion generally would have +been nipped in the bud. And it is well to abide by the established order; such +trespasses betray a revolutionary spirit. +</p> + +<p> +Now our first legislators—Cadmus the islander, Palamedes, son of +Nauplius, or Simonides, whom some authorities credit with the +measure—were not satisfied with determining merely our order of +precedence in the alphabet; they also had an eye to our individual qualities +and faculties. You, Vowels of the jury, constitute the first Estate, because +you can be uttered independently; the semi-vowels, requiring support before +they can be distinctly heard, are the second; and the lowest Estate they +declared to consist of those nine which cannot be sounded at all by themselves. +The vowels are accordingly the natural guardians of our laws. +</p> + +<p> +But this—this Tau—I would give him a worse designation, but that is +a manifest impossibility; for without the assistance of two good presentable +members of your Estate, Alpha and Upsilon, he would be a mere +nonentity—he it is that has dared to outdo all injuries that I have ever +known, expelling me from the nouns and verbs of my inheritance, and hunting me +out of my conjunctions and prepositions, till his rapacity has become quite +unbearable. I am now to trace proceedings from the beginning. +</p> + +<p> +I was once staying at Cybelus, a pleasant little town, said to be an Athenian +colony; my travelling companion was the excellent Rho, best of neighbours. My +host was a writer of comedies, called Lysimachus; he seems to have been a +Boeotian by descent, though he represented himself as coming from the interior +of Attica. It was while with him that I first detected Tau’s depredations*. For +some earlier occasional attempts (as when he took to +τετταράκοντα for +τεσσαράκοντα, +τήμερον for +σήμερον, with little pilferings of that +sort) I had explained as a trick and peculiarity of pronunciation; I had +tolerated the sound without letting it annoy me seriously. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*Footnote: For the probably corrupt passage § 7 fin.—§ 8 init. I accept +Dindorf’s rearrangement as follows: mechr men gar oligois epecheirei, +tettarakonta legein axioun, eti de taemeron kai ta homoia epispomenon, +sunaetheian thmaen idia tauti legein, kai oiston aen moi to akousma kai ou panu +ti edaknomaen ep autois. 8. hupote d ek touton arxamenon etolmaese kattiteron +eipein kai kattuma kai pittan, eita aperuthriasan kai basilitgan onomazein, +aposteroun me ton suggegenaemenun moi kai suntethrammenun grammatun, ou metrius +ipi toutois aganaktu.] +</p> + +<p> +But impunity emboldened him; kassiteros became kattiteros, kassuma and pissa +shared its fate; and then he cast off all shame and assaulted basigissa. I +found myself losing the society in which I had been born and bred;* at such a +time equanimity is out of place; I am tortured with apprehension; how long will +it be before suka is tuka? Bear with me, I beseech you; I despair and have none +to help me; do I not well to be angry? It is no petty everyday peril, this +threatened separation from my long-tried familiars. My kissa, my talking bird +that nestled in my breast, he has torn away and named anew; my phassa, my +nhssai, my khossuphoi—all gone; and I had Aristarchus’s own word that +they were mine; half my melissai he has lured to strange hives; Attica itself +he has invaded, and wrongfully annexed its Hymettus (as he calls it); and you +and the rest looked on at the seizure. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*Footnote: For the probably corrupt passage § 7 fin.—§ 8 init. I accept +Dindorf’s rearrangement as follows: mechr men gar oligois epecheirei, +tettarakonta legein axioun, eti de taemeron kai ta homoia epispomenon, +sunaetheian thmaen idia tauti legein, kai oiston aen moi to akousma kai ou panu +ti edaknomaen ep autois. 8. hupote d ek touton arxamenon etolmaese kattiteron +eipein kai kattuma kai pittan, eita aperuthriasan kai basilitgan onomazein, +aposteroun me ton suggegenaemenun moi kai suntethrammenun grammatun, ou metrius +ipi toutois aganaktu.] +</p> + +<p> +But why dwell on such trifles? I am driven from all Thessaly (Thettaly, +forsooth!), θαλασσα is now <i>mare +clausum</i> to me; he will not leave me a poor garden-herb like seutlion, I +have never a passalos to hang myself upon. What a long-suffering letter I am +myself, your own knowledge is witness enough. When Zeta stole my smaragdos, and +robbed me of all Smyrna, I never took proceedings against him; Xi might break +all sunthhkai, and appeal to Thucydides (who ought to know) as sympathizing +with his xystem; I let them alone. My neighbour Rho I made no difficulty about +pardoning as an invalid, when he transplanted my mursinai into his garden, or, +in a fit of the spleen, took liberties with my khopsh. So much for my temper. +</p> + +<p> +Tau’s, on the other hand, is naturally violent; its manifestations are not +confined to me. In proof that he has not spared other letters, but assaulted +Delta, Theta, Zeta, and almost the whole alphabet, I wish his various victims +to be put in the box. Now, Vowels of the jury, mark the evidence of +Delta:—‘He robbed me of <i>endelecheia</i>, which he claimed, quite +illegally, as <i>entelecheia</i>.’ Mark Theta beating his breast and plucking +out his hair in grief for the loss of <i>kolokunthh</i>. And Zeta mourns for +<i>surizein</i> and <i>salpizein</i>—nay, <i>cannot</i> mourn, for lack +of his gryzein. What tolerance is possible, what penalty adequate, for this +criminal letter’s iniquities? +</p> + +<p> +But his wrongs are not even limited to us, his own species; he has now extended +his operations to mankind, as I shall show. He does not permit their tongues to +work straight. (But that mention of mankind calls me back for a moment, +reminding me how he turns glossa into glotta, half robbing me of the tongue +itself. Ay, you are a disease of the tongue in every sense, Tau.) But I return +from that digression, to plead the cause of mankind and its wrongs. The +prisoner’s designs include the constraint, racking, and mutilation of their +utterance. A man sees a beautiful thing, and wishes to describe it as kalon, +but in comes Tau, and forces the man to say ταλόν: +<i>he</i> must have precedence everywhere, of course. Another man has something +to say about a vine, and lo, before it is out, it is metamorphosed by this +miserable creature into misery; he has changed slaema to tlaema, with a +suggestive hint of τλήμων. And, not content with +middle-class victims, he aims at the Persian king himself, the one for whom +land and sea are said to have made way and changed their nature: Cyrus comes +out at his bidding as Tyrus. +</p> + +<p> +Such are his verbal offences against man; his offences in deed remain. Men +weep, and bewail their lot, and curse Cadmus with many curses for introducing +Tau into the family of letters; they say it was his body that tyrants took for +a model, his shape that they imitated, when they set up the erections on which +men are crucified. Stayros the vile engine is called, and it derives its vile +name from him. Now, with all these crimes upon him, does he not deserve death, +nay, many deaths? For my part I know none bad enough but that supplied by his +own shape—that shape which he gave to the gibbet named Stayros after him +by men. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap07"></a>TIMON THE MISANTHROPE</h3> + +<p> +<i>Timon. Zeus. Hermes. Plutus. Poverty. Gnathonides. Philiades. Demeas. +Thrasycles. Blepsias</i>. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tim</i>. O Zeus, thou arbiter of friendship, protector of the guest, +preserver of fellowship, lord of the hearth, launcher of the lightning, avenger +of oaths, compeller of clouds, utterer of thunder (and pray add any other +epithets; those cracked poets have plenty ready, especially when they are in +difficulties with their scansion; then it is that a string of your names saves +the situation and fills up the metrical gaps), O Zeus, where is now your +resplendent lightning, where your deep-toned thunder, where the glowing, +white-hot, direful bolt? we know now ’tis all fudge and poetic +moonshine—barring what value may attach to the rattle of the names. That +renowned projectile of yours, which ranged so far and was so ready to your +hand, has gone dead and cold, it seems; never a spark left in it to scorch +iniquity. +</p> + +<p> +If men are meditating perjury, a smouldering lamp-wick is as likely to frighten +them off it as the omnipotent’s levin-bolt; the brand you hold over them is one +from which they see neither flame nor smoke can come; a little soot-grime is +the worst that need be apprehended from a touch of it. No wonder if Salmoneus +challenged you to a thundering-match; he was reasonable enough when he backed +his artificial heat against so cool-tempered a Zeus. Of course he was; there +are you in your opiate-trance, never hearing the perjurers nor casting a glance +at criminals, your glazed eyes dull to all that happens, and your ears as deaf +as a dotard’s. +</p> + +<p> +When you were young and keen, and your temper had some life in it, you used to +bestir yourself against crime and violence; there were no armistices in those +days; the thunderbolt was always hard at it, the aegis quivering, the thunder +rattling, the lightning engaged in a perpetual skirmish. Earth was shaken like +a sieve, buried in snow, bombarded with hail. It rained cats and dogs (if you +will pardon my familiarity), and every shower was a waterspout. Why, in +Deucalion’s time, hey presto, everything was swamped, mankind went under, and +just one little ark was saved, stranding on the top of Lycoreus and preserving +a remnant of human seed for the generation of greater wickedness. +</p> + +<p> +Mankind pays you the natural wages of your laziness; if any one offers you a +victim or a garland nowadays, it is only at Olympia as a perfunctory +accompaniment of the games; he does it not because he thinks it is any good, +but because he may as well keep up an old custom. It will not be long, most +glorious of deities, before they serve you as you served Cronus, and depose +you. I will not rehearse all the robberies of your temple—those are +trifles; but they have laid hands on your person at Olympia, my lord +High-Thunderer, and you had not the energy to wake the dogs or call in the +neighbours; surely they might have come to the rescue and caught the fellows +before they had finished packing up the swag. But there sat the bold +Giant-slayer and Titan-conqueror letting them cut his hair, with a fifteen-foot +thunderbolt in his hand all the time! My good sir, when is this careless +indifference to cease? how long before you will punish such wickedness? +Phaethon-falls and Deucalion-deluges—a good many of them will be required +to suppress this swelling human insolence. +</p> + +<p> +To leave generalities and illustrate from my own case—I have raised any +number of Athenians to high position, I have turned poor men into rich, I have +assisted every one that was in want, nay, flung my wealth broadcast in the +service of my friends, and now that profusion has brought me to beggary, they +do not so much as know me; I cannot get a glance from the men who once cringed +and worshipped and hung upon my nod. If I meet one of them in the street, he +passes me by as he might pass the tombstone of one long dead; it has fallen +face upwards, loosened by time, but he wastes no moment deciphering it. Another +will take the next turning when he sees me in the distance; I am a sight of ill +omen, to be shunned by the man whose saviour and benefactor I had been not so +long ago. +</p> + +<p> +Thus in disgrace with fortune, I have betaken me to this corner of the earth, +where I wear the smock-frock and dig for sixpence a day, with solitude and my +spade to assist meditation. So much gain I reckon upon here—to be exempt +from contemplating unmerited prosperity; no sight that so offends the eye as +that. And now, Son of Cronus and Rhea, may I ask you to shake off that deep +sound sleep of yours—why, Epimenides’s was a mere nap to it—, put +the bellows to your thunderbolt or warm it up in Etna, get it into a good +blaze, and give a display of spirit, like a manly vigorous Zeus? or are we to +believe the Cretans, who show your grave among their sights? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Hermes, who is that calling out from Attica? there, on the lower +slopes of Hymettus—a grimy squalid fellow in a smock-frock; he is bending +over a spade or something; but he has a tongue in his head, and is not afraid +to use it. He must be a philosopher, to judge from his fluent blasphemy. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. What, father! have you forgotten Timon—son of Echecratides, +of Collytus? many is the time he has feasted us on unexceptionable victims; the +rich <i>parvenu</i> of the whole hecatombs, you know, who used to do us so well +at the Diasia. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Dear, dear, <i>quantum mutatus</i>! is this the admired, the rich, +the popular? What has brought him to this pass? There he is in filth and +misery, digging for hire, labouring at that ponderous spade. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Why, if you like to put it so, it was kindness and generosity and +universal compassion that ruined him; but it would be nearer the truth to call +him a fool and a simpleton and a blunderer; he did not realize that his +proteges were carrion crows and wolves; vultures were feeding on his +unfortunate liver, and he took them for friends and good comrades, showing a +fine appetite just to please him. So they gnawed his bones perfectly clean, +sucked out with great precision any marrow there might be in them, and went +off, leaving him as dry as a tree whose roots have been severed; and now they +do not know him or vouchsafe him a nod—no such fools—, nor ever +think of showing him charity or repaying his gifts. That is how the spade and +smock-frock are accounted for; he is ashamed to show his face in town; so he +hires himself out to dig, and broods over his wrongs—the rich men he has +made passing him contemptuously by, apparently quite unaware that his name is +Timon. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. This is a case we must take up and see to. No wonder he is down on +his luck. We should be putting ourselves on the level of his despicable +sycophants, if we forgot all the fat ox and goat thighs he has burnt on our +altars; the savour of them is yet in my nostrils. But I have been so busy, +there is such a din of perjury, assault, and burglary; I am so frightened of +the temple-robbers—they swarm now, you cannot keep them out, nor take a +nap with any safety; and, with one thing and another, it is an age since I had +a look at Attica. I have hardly been there since philosophy and argument came +into fashion; indeed, with their shouting-matches going on, prayers are quite +inaudible. One must sit with one’s ears plugged, if one does not want the drums +of them cracked; such long vociferous rigmaroles about Incorporeal Things, or +something they call Virtue! That is how we came to neglect this man—who +really deserved better. +</p> + +<p> +However, go to him now without wasting any more time, Hermes, and take Plutus +with you. Thesaurus is to accompany Plutus, and they are both to stay with +Timon, and not leave him so lightly this time, even though the generous fellow +does his best to find other hosts for them. As to those parasites, and the +ingratitude they showed him, I will attend to them before long; they shall have +their deserts as soon as I have got the thunderbolt in order again. Its two +best spikes are broken and blunted; my zeal outran my discretion the other day +when I took that shot at Anaxagoras the sophist; the Gods non-existent, indeed! +that was what he was telling his disciples. However, I missed him (Pericles had +held up his hand to shield him), and the bolt glanced off on to the Anaceum, +set it on fire, and was itself nearly pulverized on the rock. But meanwhile it +will be quite sufficient punishment for them to see Timon rolling in money. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Nothing like lifting up your voice, making yourself a nuisance, and +showing a bold front; it is equally effective whether you are pleading with +juries or deities. Here is Timon developing from pauper to millionaire, just +because his prayer was loud and free enough to startle Zeus; if he had dug +quietly with his face to his work, he might have dug to all eternity, for any +notice he would have got. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Well, Zeus, I am not going to him. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Your reason, good Plutus; have I not told you to go? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Good God! why, he insulted me, threw me about, dismembered +me—me, his old family friend—and practically pitchforked me out of +the house; he could not have been in a greater hurry to be rid of me if I had +been a live coal in his hand. What, go there again, to be transferred to +toadies and flatterers and harlots? No, no, Zeus; send me to people who will +appreciate the gift, take care of me, value and cherish me. Let these gulls +consort with the poverty which they prefer to me; she will find them a +smock-frock and a spade, and they can be thankful for a miserable pittance of +sixpence a day, these reckless squanderers of 1,000 pound presents. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Ah, Timon will not treat you that way again. If his loins are not +of cast iron, his spade-work will have taught him a thing or two about your +superiority to poverty. You are so particular, you know; now, you are finding +fault with Timon for opening the door to you and letting you wander at your own +sweet will, instead of keeping you in jealous seclusion. Yesterday it was +another story: you were imprisoned by rich men under bolts and locks and seals, +and never allowed a glimpse of sunlight. That was the burden of your +complaint—you were stifled in deep darkness. We saw you pale and +careworn, your fingers hooked with coin-counting, and heard how you would like +to run away, if only you could get the chance. It was monstrous, then, that you +should be kept in a bronze or iron chamber, like a Danae condemned to +virginity, and brought up by those stern unscrupulous tutors, Interest, Debit +and Credit. +</p> + +<p> +They were perfectly ridiculous, you know, loving you to distraction, but not +daring to enjoy you when they might; you were in their power, yet they could +not give the reins to their passion; they kept awake watching you with their +eyes glued to bolt and seal; the enjoyment that satisfied them was not to enjoy +you themselves, but to prevent others’ enjoying you—true dogs in the +manger. Yes, and then how absurd it was that they should scrape and hoard, and +end by being jealous of their own selves! Ah, if they could but see that +rascally slave—steward—trainer—sneaking in bent on carouse! +little enough <i>he</i> troubles his head about the luckless unamiable owner at +his nightly accounts by a dim little half-fed lamp. How, pray, do you reconcile +your old strictures of this sort with your contrary denunciation of Timon? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Oh, if you consider the thing candidly, you will find both attitudes +reasonable. It is clear enough that Timon’s utter negligence comes from +slackness, and not from any consideration for me. As for the other sort, who +keep me shut up in the obscurity of strong-boxes, intent on making me heavy and +fat and unwieldy, never touching me themselves, and never letting me see the +light, lest some one else should catch sight of me, I always thought of them as +fools and tyrants; what harm had I done that they should let me rot in close +confinement? and did not they know that in a little while they would pass away +and have to resign me to some other lucky man? +</p> + +<p> +No, give me neither these nor the off-hand gentry; my beau ideal is the man who +steers a middle course, as far from complete abstention as from utter +profusion. Consider, Zeus, by your own great name; suppose a man were to take a +fair young wife, and then absolutely decline all jealous precautions, to the +point of letting her wander where she would by day or night, keeping company +with any one who had a mind to her—or put it a little stronger, and let +him be procurer, janitor, pander, and advertiser of her charms in his own +person—well, what sort of love is his? come, Zeus, you have a good deal +of experience, you know what love is. +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand, let a man make a suitable match for the express purpose of +raising heirs, and then let him neither himself have anything to do with her +ripe, yet modest, beauty, nor allow any other to set eyes on it, but shut her +up in barren, fruitless virginity; let him say all the while that he is in love +with her, and let his pallid hue, his wasting flesh and his sunken eyes confirm +the statement;—is he a madman, or is he not? he should be raising a +family and enjoying matrimony; but he lets this fair-faced lovely girl wither +away; he might as well be bringing up a perpetual priestess of Demeter. And now +you understand my feelings when one set of people kick me about or waste me by +the bucketful, and the others clap irons on me like a runaway convict. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. However, indignation is superfluous; both sets have just what they +deserve—one as hungry and thirsty and dry-mouthed as Tantalus, getting no +further than gaping at the gold; and the other finding its food swept away from +its very gullet, as the Harpies served Phineus. Come, be off with you; you will +find Timon has much more sense nowadays. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Oh, of course! he will not do his best to let me run out of a leaky +vessel before I have done running in! oh no, he will not be consumed with +apprehensions of the inflow’s gaining on the waste and flooding him! I shall be +supplying a cask of the Danaids; no matter how fast I pour in, the thing will +not hold water; every gallon will be out almost before it is in; the bore of +the waste-pipe is so large, and never a plug. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Well, if he does not stop the hole—if the leak is more than +temporary—you will run out in no time, and he can find his smock-frock +and spade again in the dregs of the cask. Now go along, both of you, and make +the man rich. And, Hermes, on your way back, remember to bring the Cyclopes +with you from Etna; my thunderbolt wants the grindstone; and I have work for it +as soon as it is sharp. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Come along, Plutus. Hullo! limping? My good man, I did not know you +were lame as well as blind. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. No, it is intermittent. As sure as Zeus sends me <i>to</i> any one, +a sort of lethargy comes over me, my legs are like lead, and I can hardly get +to my journey’s end; my destined host is sometimes an old man before I reach +him. As a parting guest, on the other hand, you may see me wing my way swifter +than any dream. ‘Are you ready?’ and almost before ‘Go’ has sounded, up goes my +name as winner; I have flashed round the course absolutely unseen sometimes. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. You are not quite keeping to the truth; I could name you plenty of +people who yesterday had not the price of a halter to hang themselves with, and +to-day have developed into lavish men of fortune; they drive their pair of +high-steppers, whereas a donkey would have been beyond their means before. They +go about in purple raiment with jewelled fingers, hardly convinced yet that +their wealth is not all a dream. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Ah, those are special cases, Hermes. I do not go on my own feet on +those occasions, and it is not Zeus who sends me, but Pluto, who has his own +ways of conferring wealth and making presents; Pluto and Plutus are not +unconnected, you see. When I am to flit from one house to another, they lay me +on parchment, seal me up carefully, make a parcel of me and take me round. The +dead man lies in some dark corner, shrouded from the knees upward in an old +sheet, with the cats fighting for possession of him, while those who have +expectations wait for me in the public place, gaping as wide as young swallows +that scream for their mother’s return. +</p> + +<p> +Then the seal is taken off, the string cut, the parchment opened, and my new +owner’s name made known. It is a relation, or a parasite, or perhaps a domestic +minion, whose value lay in his vices and his smooth cheeks; he has continued to +supply his master with all sorts of unnatural pleasures beyond the years which +might excuse such service, and now the fine fellow is richly rewarded. But +whoever it is, he snatches me up, parchment included, and is off with me in a +flash; he used to be called Pyrrhias or Dromo or Tibius, but now he is +Megacles, Megabyzus, or Protarchus; off he goes, leaving the disappointed ones +staring at each other in very genuine mourning—over the fine fish which +has jumped out of the landing-net after swallowing their good bait. +</p> + +<p> +The fellow who <i>has</i> pounced on me has neither taste nor feeling; the +sight of fetters still gives him a start; crack a whip in his neighbourhood, +and his ears tingle; the treadmill is an abode of awe to him. He is now +insufferable—insults his new equals, and whips his old fellows to see +what that side of the transaction feels like. He ends by finding a mistress, or +taking to the turf, or being cajoled by parasites; these have only to swear he +is handsomer than Nireus, nobler than Cecrops or Codrus, wiser than Odysseus, +richer than a dozen Croesuses rolled into one; and so the poor wretch disperses +in a moment what cost so many perjuries, robberies, and swindles to amass. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. A very fair picture. But when you go on your own feet, how can a +blind man like you find the way? Zeus sends you to people who he thinks deserve +riches; but how do you distinguish them? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Do you suppose I do find them? not much. I should scarcely have +passed Aristides by, and gone to Hipponicus, Callias, and any number of other +Athenians whose merits could have been valued in copper. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Well, but what do you do when he sends you? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. I just wander up and down till I come across some one; the first +comer takes me off home with him, and thanks—whom but the God of +windfalls, yourself? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. So Zeus is in error, and you do not enrich deserving persons +according to his pleasure? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. My dear fellow, how can he expect it? He knows I am blind, and he +sends me groping about for a thing so hard to detect, and so nearly extinct +this long time, that a Lynceus would have his work cut out spying for its +dubious remains. So you see, as the good are few, and cities are crowded with +multitudes of the bad, I am much more likely to come upon the latter in my +rambles, and they keep me in their nets. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. But when you are leaving them, how do you find escape so easy? you +do not know the way. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Ah, there is just one occasion which brings me quickness of eye and +foot; and that is flight. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Yet another question. You are not only blind (excuse my frankness), +but pallid and decrepit; how comes it, then, that you have so many lovers? All +men’s looks are for you; if they get possession of you, they count themselves +happy men; if they miss you, life is not worth living. Why, I have known not a +few so sick for love of you that they have scaled some sky-pointing crag, and +thence hurled themselves to unplumbed ocean depths [Footnote: See Apology for +‘The Dependent Scholar,’], when they thought they were scorned by you, because +you would not acknowledge their first salute. I am sure you know yourself well +enough to confess that they must be lunatics, to rave about such charms as +yours. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Why, you do not suppose they see me in my true shape, lame, blind, +and so forth? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. How else, unless they are all as blind themselves? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. They are not blind, my dear boy; but the ignorant misconceptions now +so prevalent obscure their vision. And then I contribute; not to be an absolute +fright when they see me, I put on a charming mask, all gilt and jewels, and +dress myself up. They take the mask for my face, fall in love with its beauty, +and are dying to possess it. If any one were to strip and show me to them +naked, they would doubtless reproach themselves for their blindness in being +captivated by such an ugly misshapen creature, +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. How about fruition, then? When they are rich, and have put the mask +on themselves, they are still deluded; if any one tries to take it off, they +would sooner part with their heads than with it; and it is not likely they do +not know by that time that the beauty is adventitious, now that they have an +inside view. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. There too I have powerful allies. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Namely—? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. When a man makes my acquaintance, and opens the door to let me in, +there enter unseen by my side Arrogance, Folly, Vainglory, Effeminacy, +Insolence, Deceit, and a goodly company more. These possess his soul; he begins +to admire mean things, pursues what he should abhor, reveres me amid my +bodyguard of the insinuating vices which I have begotten, and would consent to +anything sooner than part with me. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. What a smooth, slippery, unstable, evasive fellow you are, Plutus! +there is no getting a firm hold of you; you wriggle through one’s fingers +somehow, like an eel or a snake. Poverty is so different—sticky, +clinging, all over hooks; any one who comes near her is caught directly, and +finds it no simple matter to get clear. But all this gossip has put business +out of our heads. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Business? What business? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. We have forgotten to bring Thesaurus, and we cannot do without him. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Oh, never mind him. When I come up to see you, I leave him on earth, +with strict orders to stay indoors, and open to no one unless he hears my +voice. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Then we may make our way into Attica; hold on to my cloak till I +find Timon’s retreat. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. It is just as well to keep touch; if you let me drop behind, I am as +likely as not to be snapped up by Hyperbolus or Cleon. But what is that noise? +it sounds like iron on stone. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Ah, here is Timon close to us; what a steep stony little plot he +has got to dig! Good gracious, I see Poverty and Toil in attendance, Endurance, +Wisdom, Courage, and Hunger’s whole company in full force—much more +efficient than your guards, Plutus. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Oh dear, let us make the best of our way home, Hermes. We shall +never produce any impression on a man surrounded by such troops. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Zeus thought otherwise; so no cowardice. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pov</i>. Slayer of Argus, whither away, you two hand in hand? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Zeus has sent us to Timon here. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pov</i>. Now? What has Plutus to do with Timon now? I found him suffering +under Luxury’s treatment, put him in the charge of Wisdom and Toil (whom you +see here), and made a good worthy man of him. Do you take me for such a +contemptible helpless creature that you can rob me of my little all? have I +perfected him in virtue, only to see Plutus take him, trust him to Insolence +and Arrogance, make him as soft and limp and silly as before, and return him to +me a worn-out rag again? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. It is Zeus’s will. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pov</i>. I am off, then. Toil, Wisdom, and the rest of you, quick march! +Well, he will realize his loss before long; he had a good help meet in me, and +a true teacher; with me he was healthy in body and vigorous in spirit; he lived +the life of a man, and could be independent, and see the thousand and one +needless refinements in all their absurdity. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. There they go, Plutus; let us come to him. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tim</i>. Who are you, villains? What do you want here, interrupting a hired +labourer? You shall have something to take with you, confound you all! These +clods and stones shall provide you with a broken head or two. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Stop, Timon, don’t throw. We are not men; I am Hermes, and this is +Plutus; Zeus has sent us in answer to your prayers. So knock off work, take +your fortune, and much good may it do you! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tim</i>. I dare say you <i>are</i> Gods; that shall not save you. I hate +every one, man or God; and as for this blind fellow, whoever he may be, I am +going to give him one over the head with my spade. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. For God’s sake, Hermes, let us get out of this! the man is +melancholy-mad, I believe; he will do me a mischief before I get off. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Now don’t be foolish, Timon; cease overdoing the ill-tempered boor, +hold out your hands, take your luck, and be a rich man again. Have Athens at +your feet, and from your solitary eminence you can forget ingratitude. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tim</i>. I have no use for you; leave me in peace; my spade is riches enough +for me; for the rest, I am perfectly happy if people will let me alone. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. My dear sir—so unsociable? +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +So stiff and stubborn a reply to Zeus? +</p> + +<p> +A misanthrope you may well be, after the way men have treated you; but with the +Gods so thoughtful for you, you need not be a misotheist. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tim</i>. Very well, Hermes; I am extremely obliged to you and Zeus for your +thoughtfulness—there; but I will not have Plutus. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Why, pray? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tim</i>. He brought me countless troubles long ago—put me in the power +of flatterers, set designing persons on me, stirred up ill-feeling, corrupted +me with indulgence, exposed me to envy, and wound up with treacherously +deserting me at a moment’s notice. Then the excellent Poverty gave me a +drilling in manly labour, conversed with me in all frankness and sincerity, +rewarded my exertions with a sufficiency, and taught me to despise +superfluities; all hopes of a livelihood were to depend on myself, and I was to +know my true wealth, unassailable by parasites’ flattery or informers’ threats, +hasty legislatures or decree-mongering legislators, and which even the tyrant’s +machinations cannot touch. +</p> + +<p> +So, toil-hardened, working with a will at this bit of ground, my eyes rid of +city offences, I get bread enough and to spare out of my spade. Go your ways, +then, Hermes, and take Plutus back to Zeus. I am quite content to let every man +of them go hang. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Oh, that would be a pity; they are not all hanging-ripe. Don’t make +a passionate child of yourself, but admit Plutus. Zeus’s gifts are too good to +be thrown away. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Will you condescend to argue with me, Timon? or does my voice +provoke you? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tim</i>. Oh, talk away; but be brief; no rascally lawyer’s ‘opening the +case.’ I can put up with a few words from you, for Hermes’ sake. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. A speech of some length might seem to be needed, considering the +number of your charges; however, just examine your imputations of injustice. It +was I that gave you those great objects of desire—consideration, +precedence, honours, and every delight; all eyes and tongues and attentions +were yours—my gifts; and if flatterers abused you, I am not responsible +for that. It is I who should rather complain; you prostituted me vilely to +scoundrels, whose laudations and cajolery of you were only samples of their +designs upon me. As to your saying that I wound up by betraying you, you have +things topsy-turvy again; <i>I</i> may complain; you took every method to +estrange me, and finally kicked me out neck and crop. That is why your revered +Dame Poverty has supplied you with a smock-frock to replace your soft raiment. +Why, I begged and prayed Zeus (and Hermes heard me) that I might be excused +from revisiting a person who had been so unfriendly to me as you. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. But you see how he is changed, Plutus; you need not be afraid to +live with him now. Just go on digging, Timon; and you, Plutus, put Thesaurus in +position; he will come at your call. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tim</i>. I must obey, and be a rich man again, Hermes; what can one do, when +Gods insist? But reflect what troubles you are bringing on my luckless head; I +have had a blissful life of late, and now for no fault of my own I am to have +my hands full of gold and care again. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Hard, intolerable fate! yet endure for my sake, if only that the +flatterers may burst themselves with envy. And now for heaven, via Etna. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. He is off, I suppose, from the beating of his wings. Now, you stay +where you are, while I go and fetch Thesaurus to you; or rather, dig hard. +Here, Gold! Thesaurus I say! answer Timon’s summons and let him unearth you. +Now, Timon, with a will; a deep stroke or two. I will leave you together. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tim</i>. Come, spade, show your mettle; stick to it; invite Thesaurus to +step up from his retreat…. O God of Wonders! O mystic priests! O lucky Hermes! +whence this flood of gold? Sure, ’tis all a dream; methinks ’twill be ashes +when I wake. And yet—coined gold, ruddy and heavy, a feast of delight! +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +O gold, the fairest gift to mortal eyes! +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +be it night, or be it day, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Thou dost outshine all else like living fire. +</p> + +<p> +Come to me, my own, my beloved. I doubt the tale no longer; well might Zeus +take the shape of gold; where is the maid that would not open her bosom to +receive so fair a lover gliding through the roof? +</p> + +<p> +Talk of Midas, Croesus, Delphic treasures! they were all nothing to Timon and +his wealth; why, the Persian King could not match it. My spade, my dearest +smock-frock, you must hang, a votive offering to Pan. And now I will buy up +this desert corner, and build a tiny castle for my treasure, big enough for me +to live in all alone, and, when I am dead, to lie in. And be the rule and law +of my remaining days to shun all men, be blind to all men, scorn all men. +Friendship, hospitality, society, compassion—vain words all. To be moved +by another’s tears, to assist another’s need—be such things illegal and +immoral. Let me live apart like a wolf; be Timon’s one friend—Timon. +</p> + +<p> +All others are my foes and ill-wishers; to hold communion with them is +pollution; to set eyes upon one of them marks the day unholy; let them be to me +even as images of bronze or stone. I will receive no herald from them, keep +with them no truce; the bounds of my desert are the line they may not cross. +Cousin and kinsman, neighbour and countryman—these are dead useless +names, wherein fools may find a meaning. Let Timon keep his wealth to himself, +scorn all men, and live in solitary luxury, quit of flattery and vulgar praise; +let him sacrifice and feast alone, his own associate and neighbour, far from* +the +world. Yea, when his last day comes, let there be none to close his eyes and +lay him out, but himself alone. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*Footnote: Reading, with Dindorf, <i>hekas on</i> for <i>ekseion</i>.] +</p> + +<p> +Be the name he loves Misanthropus, and the marks whereby he may be known +peevishness and spleen, wrath and rudeness and abhorrence. If ever one burning +to death should call for help against the flames, let me help—with pitch +and oil. If another be swept past me by a winter torrent, and stretch out his +hands for aid, then let mine press him down head under, that he never rise +again. So shall they receive as they have given. Mover of this +resolution—Timon, son of Echecratides of Collytus. Presiding +officer—the same Timon. The ayes have it. Let it be law, and duly +observed. +</p> + +<p> +All the same, I would give a good deal to have the fact of my enormous wealth +generally known; they would all be fit to hang themselves over it…. Why, what +is this? Well, that is quick work. Here they come running from every point of +the compass, all dusty and panting; they have smelt out the gold somehow or +other. Now, shall I get on top of this knoll, keep up a galling fire of stones +from my point of vantage, and get rid of them that way? Or shall I make an +exception to my law by parleying with them for once? contempt might hit harder +than stones. Yes, I think that is better; I will stay where I am, and receive +them. Let us see, who is this in front? Ah, Gnathonides the flatterer; when I +asked an alms of him the other day, he offered me a halter; many a cask of my +wine has he made a beast of himself over. I congratulate him on his speed; +first come, first served. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Gna</i>. What did I tell them?—Timon was too good a man to be +abandoned by Providence. How are you, Timon? as good-looking and good-tempered, +as good a fellow, as ever? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tim</i>. And you, Gnathonides, still teaching vultures rapacity, and men +cunning? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Gna</i>. Ah, he always liked his little joke. But where do you dine? I have +brought a new song with me, a march out of the last musical thing on. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tim</i>. It will be a funeral march, then, and a very touching one, with +spade <i>obbligato</i>. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Gna</i>. What means this? This is assault, Timon; just let me find a +witness! … Oh, my God, my God! … I’ll have you before the Areopagus for assault +and battery. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tim</i>. You’d better not wait much longer, or you’ll have to make it +murder. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Gna</i>. Mercy, mercy! … Now, a little gold ointment to heal the wound; it +is a first-rate styptic. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tim</i>. What! you <i>won’t</i> go, won’t you? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Gna</i>. Oh, I am going. But you shall repent this. Alas, so genial once, +and now so rude! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tim</i>. Now who is this with the bald crown? Why, it is Philiades; if there +is a loathsome flatterer, it is he. When I sang that song that nobody else +would applaud, he lauded me to the skies, and swore no dying swan could be more +tuneful; his reward was one of my farms, and a 500 pounds portion for his +daughter. And then when he found I was ill, and had come to him for assistance, +his generous aid took the form of blows. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Phil</i>. You shameless creatures! yes, yes, <i>now</i> you know Timon’s +merits! <i>now</i> Gnathonides would be his friend and boon-companion! well, he +has the right reward of ingratitude. Some of us were his familiars and +playmates and neighbours; but <i>we</i> hold back a little; we would not seem +to thrust ourselves upon him. Greeting, lord Timon; pray let me warn you +against these abominable flatterers; they are your humble servants during +meal-times, and else about as useful as carrion crows. Perfidy is the order of +the day; everywhere ingratitude and vileness. I was just bringing a couple of +hundred pounds, for your immediate necessities, and was nearly here before I +heard of your splendid fortune. So I just came on to give you this word of +caution; though indeed you are wise enough (I would take your advice before +Nestor’s myself) to need none of my counsel. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tim</i>. Quite so, Philiades. But come near, will you not, and receive +my—spade! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Phil</i>. Help, help! this thankless brute has broken my head, for giving +him good counsel. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tim</i>. Now for number three. Lawyer Demeas—my cousin, as he calls +himself, with a decree in his hand. Between three and four thousand it was that +I paid in to the Treasury in ready money for him; he had been fined that amount +and imprisoned in default, and I took pity on him. Well, the other day he was +distributing-officer of the festival money [Footnote: Every citizen had the +right to receive from the State the small sum which would pay for his admission +to theatrical or other festival entertainments.]; when I applied for my share, +he pretended I was not a citizen. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dem</i>. Hail, Timon, ornament of our race, pillar of Athens, shield of +Hellas! The Assembly and both Councils are met, and expect your appearance. But +first hear the decree which I have proposed in your honour. ‘WHEREAS Timon son +of Echecratides of Collytus who adds to high position and character a sagacity +unmatched in Greece is a consistent and indefatigable promoter of his country’s +good and Whereas he has been victorious at Olympia on one day in boxing +wrestling and running as well as in the two and the four-horse chariot +races—’ +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tim</i>. Why, I was never so much as a spectator at Olympia. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dem</i>. What does that matter? you will be some day. It looks better to +have a good deal of that sort in—‘and Whereas he fought with distinction +last year at Acharnae cutting two Peloponnesian companies to pieces—’ +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tim</i>. Good work that, considering that my name was not on the +muster-rolls, because I could not afford a suit of armour. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dem</i>. Ah, you are modest; but it would be ingratitude in us to forget +your services—‘and Whereas by political measures and responsible advice +and military action he has conferred great benefits on his country Now for all +these reasons it is the pleasure of the Assembly and the Council the ten +divisions of the High Court and the Borough Councils individually and +collectively THAT a golden statue of the said Timon be placed on the Acropolis +alongside of Athene with a thunderbolt in the hand and a seven-rayed aureole on +the head Further that golden garlands be conferred on him and proclaimed this +day at the New Tragedies [Footnote: See <i>Dionysia</i> in Notes] the said day +being kept in his honour as the Dionysia. Mover of the Decree Demeas the +pleader the said Timon’s near relation and disciple the said Timon being as +distinguished in pleading as in all else wherein it pleases him to excel.’ +</p> + +<p> +So runs the decree. I had designed also to present to you my son, whom I have +named Timon after you. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tim</i>. Why, I thought you were a bachelor, Demeas. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dem</i>. Ah, but I intend to marry next year; my child—which is to be +a boy—I hereby name Timon. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tim</i>. I doubt whether you will feel like marrying, my man, when I have +given you—this! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dem</i>. Oh Lord! what is that for? … You are plotting a <i>coup d’etat</i>, +you Timon; you assault free men, and you are neither a free man nor a citizen +yourself. You shall soon be called to account for your crimes; it was you set +fire to the Acropolis, for one thing. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tim</i>. Why, you scoundrel, the Acropolis has not been set on fire; you are +a common blackmailer. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dem</i>. You got your gold by breaking into the Treasury. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tim</i>. It has not been broken into, either; you are not even plausible. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dem</i>. There is time for the burglary yet; meantime, you are in possession +of the treasures. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tim</i>. Well, here is another for you, anyhow. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dem</i>. Oh! oh! my back! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tim</i>. Don’t make such a noise, if you don’t want a third. It would be too +absurd, you know, if I could cut two companies of Spartans to pieces without my +armour, and not be able to give a single little scoundrel his deserts. My +Olympic boxing and wrestling victories would be thrown away. +</p> + +<p> +Whom have we now? is this Thrasycles the philosopher? sure enough it is. A halo +of beard, eyebrows an inch above their place, superiority in his air, a look +that might storm heaven, locks waving to the wind—’tis a very Boreas or +Triton from Zeuxis’ pencil. This hero of the careful get-up, the solemn gait, +the plain attire—in the morning he will utter a thousand maxims, +expounding Virtue, arraigning self- indulgence, lauding simplicity; and then, +when he gets to dinner after his bath, his servant fills him a bumper (he +prefers it neat), and draining this Lethe-draught he proceeds to turn his +morning maxima inside out; he swoops like a hawk on dainty dishes, elbows his +neighbour aside, fouls his beard with trickling sauce, laps like a dog, with +his nose in his plate, as if he expected to find Virtue there, and runs his +finger all round the bowl, not to lose a drop of the gravy. Let him monopolize +pastry or joint, he will still criticize the carving—that is all the +satisfaction his ravenous greed brings him—; when the wine is in, singing +and dancing are delights not fierce enough; he must brawl and rave. He has +plenty to say in his cups—he is then at his best in that kind—upon +temperance and decorum; he is full of these when his potations have reduced him +to ridiculous stuttering. Next the wine disagrees with him, and at last he is +carried out of the room, holding on with all his might to the flute-girl. Take +him sober, for that matter, and you will hardly find his match at lying, +effrontery or avarice. He is <i>facile princeps</i> of flatterers, perjury sits +on his tongue-tip, imposture goes before him, and shamelessness is his good +comrade; oh, he is a most ingenious piece of work, finished at all points, a +<i>multum in parvo</i>. I am afraid his kind heart will be grieved presently. +Why, how is this, Thrasycles? I must say, you have taken your time about +coming. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Thr</i>. Ah, Timon, I am not come like the rest of the crowd; <i>they</i> +are dazzled by your wealth; they are gathered together with an eye to gold and +silver and high living; they will soon be showing their servile tricks before +your unsuspicious, generous self. As for me, you know a crust is all the dinner +I care for; the relish I like best is a bit of thyme or cress; on festal days I +may go as far as a sprinkling of salt. My drink is the crystal spring; and this +threadbare cloak is better than your gay robes. Gold—I value it no higher +than pebbles on the beach. What brought <i>me</i> was concern for you; I would +not have you ruined by this same pestilent wealth, this temptation for +plunderers; many is the man it has sunk in helpless misery. Take my advice, and +fling it bodily into the sea; a good man, to whom the wealth of philosophy is +revealed, has no need of the other. It does not matter about deep water, my +good sir; wade in up to your waist when the tide is near flood, and <i>let no +one see you but me</i>. Or if that is not satisfactory, here is another plan +even better. Get it all out of the house as quick as you can, not reserving a +penny for yourself, and distribute it to the poor five shillings to one, five +pounds to another, a hundred to a third; philosophy might constitute a claim to +a double or triple share. For my part—and I do not ask for myself, only +to divide it among my needy friends—I should be quite content with as +much as my scrip would hold; it is something short of two standard bushels; if +one professes philosophy, one must be moderate and have few needs—none +that go beyond the capacity of a scrip. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tim</i>. Very right, Thrasycles. But instead of a mere scripful, pray take a +whole headful of clouts, standard measure by the spade. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Thr</i>. Land of liberty, equality, legality! protect me against this +ruffian! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tim</i>. What is your grievance, my good man? is the measure short? here is +a pint or two extra, then, to put it right. +</p> + +<p> +Why, what now? here comes a crowd; friend Blepsias, Laches, Gniphon; their name +is legion; they shall howl soon. I had better get up on the rock; my poor tired +spade wants a little rest; I will collect all the stones I can lay hands on, +and pepper them at long range. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Bl</i>. Don’t throw, Timon; we are going. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tim</i>. Whether the retreat will be bloodless, however, is another +question. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap08"></a>PROMETHEUS ON CAUCASUS</h3> + +<p> +<i>Hermes. Hephaestus. Prometheus.</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. This, Hephaestus, is the Caucasus, to which it is our painful duty +to nail our companion. We have now to select a suitable crag, free from snow, +on which the chains will have a good hold, and the prisoner will hang in all +publicity. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Heph</i>. True. It will not do to fix him too low down, or these <i>men</i> +of his might come to their maker’s assistance; nor at the top, where he would +be invisible from the earth. What do you say to a middle course? Let him hang +over this precipice, with his arms stretched across from crag to crag. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. The very thing. Steep rocks, slightly overhanging, inaccessible on +every side; no foothold but a mere ledge, with scarcely room for the tips of +one’s toes; altogether a sweet spot for a crucifixion. Now, Prometheus, come +and be nailed up; there is no time to lose. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Prom</i>. Nay, hear me; Hephaestus! Hermes! I suffer injustice: have +compassion on my woes! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. In other words, disobey orders, and promptly be gibbeted in your +stead! Do you suppose there is not room on the Caucasus to peg out a couple of +us? Come, your right hand! clamp it down, Hephaestus, and in with the nails; +bring down the hammer with a will. Now the left; make sure work of that +too.—So!—The eagle will shortly be here, to trim your liver; so +ingenious an artist is entitled to every attention. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Prom</i>. O Cronus, and Iapetus, and Mother Earth! Behold the sufferings of +the innocent! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Why, as to innocence,—to begin with, there was that business +of the sacrificial meats, your manner of distributing which was most unfair, +most disingenuous: you got all the choice parts for yourself, and put Zeus off +with bones ‘wrapped up in shining fat’; I remember the passage in Hesiod; those +are his very words. Then you made these human beings; creatures of unparalleled +wickedness, the women especially. And to crown all, you stole fire, the most +precious possession of the Gods, and gave it to them. And with all this on your +conscience, you protest that you have done nothing to deserve captivity. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Prom</i>. Ah, Hermes; you are as bad as Hector; you ‘blame the blameless.’ +For such crimes as these, I deserve a round pension, if justice were done. And +by the way, I should like, if you can spare the time, to answer to these +charges, and satisfy you of the injustice of my sentence. You can employ your +practised eloquence on behalf of Zeus, and justify his conduct in nailing me up +here at the Gates of the Caspian, for all Scythia to behold and pity. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. There is nothing to be gained now by an appeal to another court; it +is too late. Proceed, however. We have to wait in any case till the eagle comes +to look after that liver of yours; and the time might be worse spent than in +listening to the subtleties of such a master in impudence as yourself. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Prom</i>. You begin then, Hermes. Exert all your powers of invective; leave +no stone unturned to establish the righteousness of papa’s +judgements.—You, Hephaestus, shall compose the jury. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Heph</i>. The jury! Not a bit of it; I am a party in this case. My furnace +has been cold, ever since you stole that fire. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Prom</i>. Well, at this rate you had better divide the prosecution between +you. You conduct the case of larceny, and Hermes can handle the man-making, and +the misappropriation of meat. I shall expect a great deal of you; you are both +artists. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Heph</i>. Hermes shall speak for me. The law is not in my line; my forge +takes up most of my time. But Hermes is an orator; he has made a study of these +things. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Prom</i>. Well! I should never have thought that Hermes would have the heart +to reproach me with larceny; he ought to have a fellow-feeling for me there. +However, with this further responsibility on your shoulders, there is no time +to be lost, son of Maia; out with your accusation, and have done with it. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. To deal adequately with your crimes, Prometheus, would require many +words and much preparation. It is not enough to mention the several counts of +the accusation; how, entrusted with the distribution of meats, you defrauded +the crown by retaining the choicer portions for your own use; how you created +the race of men, with absolutely no justification for so doing; how you stole +fire and conveyed it to these same men. You seem not to realize, my friend, +that, all-things considered, Zeus has dealt very handsomely by you. Now, if you +deny the charges, I shall be compelled to establish your guilt at some length, +and to set the facts in the clearest possible light. But if you admit the +distribution of meat in the manner described, the introduction of men, and the +theft of fire,—then my case is complete, and there is no more to be said. +To expatiate further would be to talk nonsense. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Prom</i>. Perhaps there has been some nonsense talked already; that remains +to be seen. But as you say your case is now complete, I will see what I can do +in the way of refutation. And first about that meat. Though, upon my word, I +blush for Zeus when I name it: to think that he should be so touchy about +trifles, as to send off a God of my quality to crucifixion, just because he +found a little bit of bone in his share! Does he forget the services I have +rendered him? And does he think what it is that he is so angry about, and how +childish it is to show temper about a little thing like that? What if he did +miss getting the better share? Why, Hermes, these tricks that are played over +the wine-cups are not worth thinking twice about. A joke, perhaps, is carried a +little too far, in the warmth of the feast; still, it is a joke, and resentment +should be left behind in the dregs of the bowl. I have no patience with your +long memories; this nursing of grievances, this raking up of last night’s +squabbles, is unworthy of a king, let alone a king of Gods. Once take away from +our feasts the little elegancies of quip and crank and wile, and what is left? +Muzziness; repletion; silence;—cheerful accompaniments these to the +wine-bowl! For my part, I never supposed that Zeus would give the matter a +thought the next morning; much less that he would make such a stir about it, +and think himself so mightily injured; my little manoeuvre with the meat was +merely a playful experiment, to see which he would choose. It might have been +worse. Instead of giving him the inferior half, I might have defrauded him of +the whole. And what if I had? Would that have been a case for putting heaven +and earth in commotion, for deep designs of chain and cross and Caucasus, +dispatchings of eagles, rendings of livers? These things tell a sad tale, do +they not, of the puny soul, the little mind, the touchy temper of the aggrieved +party? How would he take the loss of a whole ox, who storms to such purpose +over a few pounds of meat? How much more reasonable is the conduct of mortals, +though one would have expected them to be more irritable than Gods! A mortal +would never want his cook crucified for dipping a finger into the stew-pan, or +filching a mouthful from the roast; they overlook these things. At the worst +their resentment is satisfied with a box on the ears or a rap on the head. I +find no precedent among them for crucifixion in such cases. So much for the +affair of the meat; there is little credit to be got in the refutation of such +a charge, and still less in the bringing of it. +</p> + +<p> +I am next to speak of my creation of mankind. And here the terms of your +accusation are ambiguous. I have to choose between two distinct possibilities. +Do you maintain that I had no right to create men at all, that I ought to have +left the senseless clay alone? Or do you only complain of the form in which I +designed them? However, I shall have something to say on both points. I shall +first endeavour to show that no harm has accrued to the Gods from my bringing +mankind into existence; and shall then proceed to the positive advantages and +improvements which have resulted to them from the peopling of the earth. The +question as to the harm done by my innovation is best answered by an appeal to +the past, to those days when the race of heaven-born Gods stood alone, and +earth was a hideous shapeless mass, a tangle of rude vegetation. The Gods had +no altars then, nor temples (for who should raise them?), no images of wood or +stone, such as now abound in every corner of the earth, and are honoured with +all observance. It was to me that the idea occurred—amid my ceaseless +meditations on the common welfare, on the aggrandizement of the Gods and the +promotion of order and beauty in the universe—of setting all to rights +with a handful of clay; of creating living things, and moulding them after our +own likeness. I saw what was lacking to our godhead: some counterpart, some +foil wherein to set off its blessedness. And that counterpart must be mortal; +but in all else exquisitely contrived, perfect in intelligence, keen to +appreciate our superiority. Thereupon, I moulded my material, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +With water mingling clay, +</p> + +<p> +and created man, calling in Athene to aid me in the task. And this is my rank +offence against the Gods. Destructive work,—to reduce inanimate clay to +life and motion! The Gods, it seems, are Gods no longer, now that there are +mortal creatures on the earth. To judge at least by Zeus’s indignation, one +would suppose that the Gods suffered some loss of prestige from the creation of +mankind; unless it is that he is afraid of another revolt, of their waging war +with heaven, like the Giants. +</p> + +<p> +That the cause of the Gods suffered nothing at my hands is evident; show me the +slightest instance to the contrary, and I will say no more; I have but my +deserts. But for the positive benefits I have conferred, use the evidence of +your eyes. The earth, no longer barren and untilled, is decked with cities and +farms and the fruits of cultivation; the sea has its ships, the islands their +inhabitants. Everywhere are altars and temples, everywhere festivals and +sacrifices: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Zeus with his presence fills their gatherings,<br/> + He fills their streets.<br/> +</p> + +<p> +Had I created mankind for my own private convenience, it might perhaps have +denoted a grasping spirit: but I made them common property; they are at the +service of every God of you. Nay more: temples of Zeus, and Apollo, and Hera, +temples of Hermes, are everywhere to be seen; but who ever saw a temple of +Prometheus? You may judge from this, how far I have sacrificed the common cause +to my private ambition. +</p> + +<p> +And further. Consider, Hermes: can any good thing whatsoever, be it gift of +Nature or work of our hands, give the full measure of enjoyment to its +possessor, when there is none to see, none to admire? You see whither my +question tends? But for mankind, the glories of the universe must have been +without a witness; and there was little satisfaction to be derived from a +wealth which was doomed to excite no envy in others. We should have lacked a +standard for comparison; and should never have known the extent of our +happiness, while all were as happy as ourselves. The great is not great, till +it is compared with the small. Yet instead of honouring me for my political +insight, you crucify me; such are the wages of wisdom! +</p> + +<p> +Ah, but (you will say) there is so much wickedness among them; adultery, war, +incest, parricide. Well, I fancy these are not unknown among ourselves? And I +am sure no one would think that a reason for saying that Uranus and Ge made a +mistake in creating us. Or again, you will complain that we have so much +trouble in looking after them. At that rate, a shepherd ought to object to the +possession of a flock, because he has to look after it. Besides, a certain show +of occupation is rather gratifying than otherwise; the responsibility is not +unwelcome,—it helps to pass the time. What should we do, if we had not +mankind to think of? There would be nothing to live for; we should sit about +drinking nectar and gorging ourselves with ambrosia. But what fairly takes away +my breath is, your assurance in finding fault with my <i>women</i> in +particular, when all the time you are in love with them: our bulls and satyrs +and swans are never tired of making descents upon the Earth; women, they find, +are good enough to be made the mothers of Gods! +</p> + +<p> +Yes, yes (you will say), it was quite right that men should be created, but +they should not have been made in our likeness. And what better model could I +have taken than this, whose perfection I knew? Was I to make them brute beasts +without understanding? Had they been other than they are, how should they have +paid you due honour and sacrifice? When the hecatombs are getting ready, you +think nothing of a journey to the ends of the earth to see the ‘blameless +Ethiopians’; and my reward for procuring you these advantages +is—crucifixion! But on this subject I have said enough. +</p> + +<p> +And now, with your permission, I will approach the subject of that stolen fire, +of which we hear so much. I have a question to ask, which I beg you will answer +frankly. Has there been one spark less fire in Heaven, since men shared it with +us? Of course not. It is the nature of fire, that it does not become less by +being imparted to others. A fire is not put out by kindling another from it. +No, this is sheer envy: you cannot bear that men should have a share of this +necessary, though you have suffered no harm thereby. For shame! Gods should be +beneficent, ‘givers of good’; they should be above all envy. Had I taken away +fire altogether, and left not a spark behind, it would have been no great loss. +You have no use for it. You are never cold; you need no artificial light; nor +is ambrosia improved by boiling. To man, on the other hand, fire is +indispensable for many purposes, particularly for those of sacrifice; how else +are they to fill their streets with the savour of burnt-offerings, and the +fumes of frankincense? how else to burn fat thigh-pieces upon your altars? I +observe that you take a particular pleasure in the steam arising therefrom, and +think no feast more delicious than the smell of roast meat, as it mounts +heavenwards +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +In eddying clouds of smoke. +</p> + +<p> +Your present complaint, you see, is sadly at variance with this taste. I wonder +you do not forbid the Sun to shine on mankind. He too is of fire, and fire of a +purer and diviner quality. Has anything been said to <i>him</i> about his +lavish expenditure of your property? +</p> + +<p> +And now I have done. If there is any flaw in my defence, it is for you two to +refute me. I shall answer your objections in due course. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Nay, you are too hard for us, Prometheus; we will not attempt a +sophist of your mettle. Well for you that Zeus is not within earshot, or you +would have had a round dozen of hungry vultures to reckon with, for certain; in +clearing your own character, you have grievously mishandled his. But one thing +puzzles me: you are a prophet; you ought to have foreseen your sentence. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Prom</i>. All this I knew, and more than this; for I shall be released; nay, +even now the day is not far off when one of your blood shall come from Thebes, +and shoot this eagle with which you threaten me [Footnote: See +<i>Prometheus</i> in Notes.]. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. With all my heart! I shall be delighted to see you free again, and +feasting in our midst; but not, my friend, not carving for us! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Prom</i>. You may take my word for it; I shall be with you again. I have the +wherewithal to pay abundantly for my ransom. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Oh, indeed? Come, tell us all about it. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Prom</i>. You know Thetis—But no; the secret is best kept. Ransom and +reward depend upon it. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Well, you know best. Now, Hephaestus, we must be going; see, here +comes the eagle.—Bear a brave heart, Prometheus; and all speed to your +Theban archer, who is to set a term to this creature’s activity. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap09"></a>DIALOGUES OF THE GODS</h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p> +<i>Prometheus. Zeus</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Prom</i>. Release me, Zeus; I have suffered enough. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Release you? you? Why, by rights your irons should be heavier, you +should have the whole weight of Caucasus upon you, and instead of one, a dozen +vultures, not just pecking at your liver, but scratching out your eyes. You +made these abominable human creatures to vex us, you stole our fire, you +invented women. I need not remind you how you overreached me about the +meat-offerings; my portion, bones disguised in fat: yours, all the good. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Prom</i>. And have I not been punished enough—riveted to the Caucasus +all these years, feeding your bird (on which all worst curses light!) with my +liver? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. ’Tis not a tithe of your deserts. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Prom</i>. Consider, I do not ask you to release me for nothing. I offer you +information which is invaluable. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Promethean wiles! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Prom</i>. Wiles? to what end? you can find the Caucasus another time; and +there are chains to be had, if you catch me cheating. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Tell me first the nature of your ‘invaluable’ offer. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Prom</i>. If I tell you your present errand right, will that convince you +that I can prophesy too? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Of course it will. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Prom</i>. You are bound on a little visit to Thetis. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Right so far. And the sequel? I trust you now. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Prom</i>. Have no dealings with her, Zeus. As sure as Nereus’s daughter +conceives by you, your child shall mete you the measure you meted to— +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. I shall lose my kingdom, you would say? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Prom</i>. Avert it, Fate! I say only, that union portends this issue. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Thetis, farewell! and for this Hephaestus shall set you free. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p> +<i>Eros. Zeus</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Eros</i>. You might let me off, Zeus! I suppose it <i>was</i> rather too bad +of me; but there!—I am but a child; a wayward child. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. A child, and born before Iapetus was ever thought of? You bad old +man! Just because you have no beard, and no white hairs, are you going to pass +yourself off for a child? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Eros</i>. Well, and what such mighty harm has the old man ever done you, +that you should talk of chains? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Ask your own guilty conscience, what harm. The pranks you have +played me! Satyr, bull, swan, eagle, shower of gold,—I have been +everything in my time; and I have you to thank for it. You never by any chance +make the women in love with <i>me</i>; no one is ever smitten with <i>my</i> +charms, that I have noticed. No, there must be magic in it always; I must be +kept well out of sight. They like the bull or the swan well enough: but once +let them set eyes on <i>me</i>, and they are frightened out of their lives. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Eros</i>. Well, of course. They are but mortals; the sight of Zeus is too +much for them. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Then why are Branchus and Hyacinth so fond of Apollo? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Eros</i>. Daphne ran away from him, anyhow; in spite of his beautiful hair +and his smooth chin. Now, shall I tell you the way to win hearts? Keep that +aegis of yours quiet, and leave the thunderbolt at home; make yourself as smart +as you can; curl your hair and tie it up with a bit of ribbon, get a purple +cloak, and gold-bespangled shoes, and march forth to the music of flute and +drum;—and see if you don’t get a finer following than Dionysus, for all +his Maenads. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Pooh! I’ll win no hearts on such terms. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Eros</i>. Oh, in that case, don’t fall in love. Nothing could be simpler. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. I dare say; but I like being in love, only I don’t like all this +fuss. Now mind; if I let you off, it is on this understanding. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p> +<i>Zeus. Hermes</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Hermes, you know Inachus’s beautiful daughter? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. I do. Io, you mean? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Yes; she is not a girl now, but a heifer. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Magic at work! how did that come about? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Hera had a jealous fit, and transformed her. But that is not all; +she has thought of a new punishment for the poor thing. She has put a cowherd +in charge, who is all over eyes; this Argus, as he is called, pastures the +heifer, and never goes to sleep. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Well, what am I to do? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Fly down to Nemea, where the pasture is, kill Argus, take Io +across the sea to Egypt, and convert her into Isis. She shall be henceforth an +Egyptian Goddess, flood the Nile, regulate the winds, and rescue mariners. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +<h4>VI</h4> + +<p> +<i>Hera. Zeus</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Hera</i>. Zeus! What is your opinion of this man Ixion? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Why, my dear, I think he is a very good sort of man; and the best +of company. Indeed, if he were unworthy of our company, he would not be here. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Hera</i>. He <i>is</i> unworthy! He is a villain! Discard him! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Eh? What has he been after? I must know about this. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Hera</i>. Certainly you must; though I scarce know how to tell you. The +wretch! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Oh, oh; if he is a ‘wretch,’ you must certainly tell me all about +it. I know what ‘wretch’ means, on your discreet tongue. What, he has been +making love? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Hera</i>. And to me! to me of all people! It has been going on for a long +time. At first, when he would keep looking at me, I had no idea—. And +then he would sigh and groan; and when I handed my cup to Ganymede after +drinking, he would insist on having it, and would stop drinking to kiss it, and +lift it up to his eyes; and then he would look at me again. And then of course +I knew. For a long time I didn’t like to say anything to you; I thought his mad +fit would pass. But when he actually dared to <i>speak</i> to me, I left him +weeping and groveling about, and stopped my ears, so that I might not hear his +impertinences, and came to tell you. It is for you to consider what steps you +will take. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Whew! I have a rival, I find; and with my own lawful wife. Here is +a rascal who has tippled nectar to some purpose. Well, we have no one but +ourselves to blame for it: we make too much of these mortals, admitting them to +our table like this. When they drink of our nectar, and behold the beauties of +Heaven (so different from those of Earth!), ’tis no wonder if they fall in +love, and form ambitious schemes! Yes, Love is all-powerful; and not with +mortals only: we Gods have sometimes fallen beneath his sway. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Hera</i>. He has made himself master of <i>you</i>; no doubt of that. He +does what he likes with you;—leads you by the nose. You follow him +whither he chooses, and assume every shape at his command; you are his chattel, +his toy. I know how it will be: you are going to let Ixion off, because you +have had relations with his wife; she is the mother of Pirithous. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Why, what a memory you have for these little outings of +mine!—Now, my idea about Ixion is this. It would never do to punish him, +or to exclude him from our table; that would not look well. No; as he is so +fond of you, so hard hit—even to weeping point, you tell me,— +</p> + +<p> +<i>Hera</i>. Zeus! What <i>are</i> you going to say? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Don’t be alarmed. Let us make a cloud-phantom in your likeness, +and after dinner, as he lies awake (which of course he will do, being in love), +let us take it and lay it by his side. ’Twill put him out of his pain: he will +fancy he has attained his desire. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Hera</i>. Never! The presumptuous villain! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Yes, I know. But what harm can it do to you, if Ixion makes a +conquest of a cloud? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Hera</i>. But he will think that <i>I</i> am the cloud; he will be working +his wicked will upon <i>me</i> for all he can tell. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Now you are talking nonsense. The cloud is not Hera, and Hera is +not the cloud. Ixion will be deceived; that is all. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Hera</i>. Yes, but these men are all alike—they have no delicacy. I +suppose, when he goes home, he will boast to every one of how he has enjoyed +the embraces of Hera, the wife of Zeus! Why, he may tell them that <i>I</i> am +in love with <i>him</i>! And they will believe it; <i>they</i> will know +nothing about the cloud. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. If he says anything of the kind he shall soon find himself in +Hades, spinning round on a wheel for all eternity. That will keep him busy! And +serve him right; not for falling in love—I see no great harm in +that—but for letting his tongue wag. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +<h4>VII</h4> + +<p> +<i>Hephaestus. Apollo</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Heph</i>. Have you seen Maia’s baby, Apollo? such a pretty little thing, +with a smile for everybody; you can see it is going to be a treasure. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ap</i>. That baby a treasure? well, in mischief, Iapetus is young beside it. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Heph</i>. Why, what harm can it do, only just born? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ap</i>. Ask Posidon; it stole his trident. Ask Ares; he was surprised to +find his sword gone out of the scabbard. Not to mention myself, disarmed of bow +and arrows. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Heph</i>. Never! that infant? he has hardly found his legs yet; he is not +out of his baby-linen. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ap</i>. Ah, you will find out, Hephaestus, if he gets within reach of you. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Heph</i>. He has been. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ap</i>. Well? all your tools safe? none missing? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Heph</i>. Of course not. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ap</i>. I advise you to make sure. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Heph</i>. Zeus! where are my pincers? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ap</i>. Ah, you will find them among the baby-linen. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Heph</i>. So light-fingered? one would swear he had practised petty larceny +in the womb. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ap</i>. Ah, and you don’t know what a glib young chatterbox he is; and, if +he has his way, he is to be our errand-boy! Yesterday he challenged +Eros—tripped up his heels somehow, and had him on his back in a +twinkling; before the applause was over, he had taken the opportunity of a +congratulatory hug from Aphrodite to steal her girdle; Zeus had not done +laughing before—the sceptre was gone. If the thunderbolt had not been too +heavy, and very hot, he would have made away with that too. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Heph</i>. The child has some spirit in him, by your account. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ap</i>. Spirit, yes—and some music, moreover, young as he is. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Heph</i>. How can you tell that? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ap</i>. He picked up a dead tortoise somewhere or other, and contrived an +instrument with it. He fitted horns to it, with a cross-bar, stuck in pegs, +inserted a bridge, and played a sweet tuneful thing that made an old harper +like me quite envious. Even at night, Maia was saying, he does not stay in +Heaven; he goes down poking his nose into Hades—on a thieves’ errand, no +doubt. Then he has a pair of wings, and he has made himself a magic wand, which +he uses for marshalling souls—convoying the dead to their place. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Heph</i>. Ah, I gave him that, for a toy. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ap</i>. And by way of payment he stole— +</p> + +<p> +<i>Heph</i>. Well thought on; I must go and get them; you may be right about +the baby-linen. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +<p> +VIII <i>Hephaestus. Zeus</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Heph</i>. What are your orders, Zeus? You sent for me, and here I am; with +such an edge to my axe as would cleave a stone at one blow. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Ah; that’s right, Hephaestus. Just split my head in half, will +you? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Heph</i>. You think I am mad, perhaps?—Seriously, now, what can I do +for you? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. What I say: crack my skull. Any insubordination, now, and you +shall taste my resentment; it will not be the first time. Come, a good lusty +stroke, and quick about it. I am in the pangs of travail; my brain is in a +whirl. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Heph</i>. Mind you, the consequences may be serious: the axe is sharp, and +will prove but a rough midwife. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Hew away, and fear nothing. I know what I am about. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Heph</i>. H’m. I don’t like it: however, one must obey orders…. Why, what +have we here? A maiden in full armour! This is no joke, Zeus. You might well be +waspish, with this great girl growing up beneath your <i>pia mater</i>; in +armour, too! You have been carrying a regular barracks on your shoulders all +this time. So active too! See, she is dancing a war-dance, with shield and +spear in full swing. She is like one inspired; and (what is more to the point) +she is extremely pretty, and has come to marriageable years in these few +minutes; those grey eyes, even, look well beneath a helmet. Zeus, I claim her +as the fee for my midwifery. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Impossible! She is determined to remain a maid for ever. Not that +<i>I</i> have any objection, personally. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Heph</i>. That is all I want. You can leave the rest to me. I’ll carry her +off this moment. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Well, if you think it so easy. But I am sure it is a hopeless +case. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +<h4>XI</h4> + +<p> +<i>Aphrodite. Selene</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aph</i>. What is this I hear about you, Selene? When your car is over Caria, +you stop it to gaze at Endymion sleeping hunter-fashion in the open; sometimes, +they tell me, you actually get out and go down to him. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sel</i>. Ah, Aphrodite, ask that son of yours; it is he must answer for it +all. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aph</i>. Well now, what a naughty boy! he gets his own mother into all sorts +of scrapes; I must go down, now to Ida for Anchises of Troy, now to Lebanon for +my Assyrian stripling;—mine? no, he put Persephone in love with him too, +and so robbed me of half my darling. I have told him many a time that if he +would not behave himself I would break his artillery for him, and clip his +wings; and before now I have smacked his little behind with my slipper. It is +no use; he is frightened and cries for a minute or two, and then forgets all +about it. But tell me, is Endymion handsome? That is always a comfort in our +humiliation. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sel</i>. <i>Most</i> handsome, <i>I</i> think, my dear; you should see him +when he has spread out his cloak on the rock and is asleep; his javelins in his +left hand, just slipping from his grasp, the right arm bent upwards, making a +bright frame to the face, and he breathing softly in helpless slumber. Then I +come noiselessly down, treading on tiptoe not to wake and startle him—but +there, you know all about it; why tell you the rest? I am dying of love, that +is all. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +<h4>XII</h4> + +<p> +<i>Aphrodite. Eros</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aph</i>. Child, child, you must think what you are doing. It is bad enough +on earth,—you are always inciting men to do some mischief, to themselves +or to one another;—but I am speaking of the Gods. You change Zeus into +shape after shape as the fancy takes you; you make Selene come down from the +sky; you keep Helius loitering about with Clymene, till he sometimes forgets to +drive out at all. As for the naughty tricks you play on your own mother, you +know you are safe there. But Rhea! how could you <i>dare</i> to set her on +thinking of that young fellow in Phrygia, an old lady like her, the mother of +so many Gods? Why, you have made her quite mad: she harnesses those lions of +hers, and drives about all over Ida with the Corybantes, who are as mad as +herself, shrieking high and low for Attis; and there they are, slashing their +arms with swords, rushing about over the hills, like wild things, with +dishevelled hair, blowing horns, beating drums, clashing cymbals; all Ida is +one mad tumult. I am quite uneasy about it; yes, you wicked boy, your poor +mother is quite uneasy: some day when Rhea is in one of her mad fits (or when +she is in her senses, more likely), she will send the Corybantes after you, +with orders to tear you to pieces, or throw you to the lions. You are so +venturesome! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Eros</i>. Be under no alarm, mother; I understand lions perfectly by this +time. I get on to their backs every now and then, and take hold of their manes, +and ride them about; and when I put my hand into their mouths, they only lick +it, and let me take it out again. Besides, how is Rhea going to have time to +attend to me? She is too busy with Attis. And I see no harm in just pointing +out beautiful things to people; they can leave them alone;—it is nothing +to do with me. And how would you like it if Ares were not in love with you, or +you with him? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aph</i>. Masterful boy! always the last word! But you will remember this +some day. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +<h4>XIII</h4> + +<p> +<i>Zeus. Asclepius. Heracles</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Now, Asclepius and Heracles, stop that quarrelling; you might as +well be men; such behaviour is very improper and out of place at the table of +the Gods. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Is this druggist fellow to have a place above me, Zeus? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Asc</i>. Of course I am; I am your better. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Why, you numskull? because it was Zeus’s bolt that cracked your +skull, for your unholy doings, and now you have been allowed your immortality +again out of sheer pity? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Asc</i>. You twit me with my fiery end; you seem to have forgotten that you +too were burnt to death, on Oeta. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Was there no difference between your life and mine, then? I am +Zeus’s son, and it is well known how I toiled, cleansing the earth, conquering +monsters, and chastising men of violence. Whereas you are a root-grubber and a +quack; I dare say you have your use for doctoring sick men, but you never did a +bold deed in your life. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Asc</i>. That comes well from you, whose burns I healed, when you came up +all singed not so long ago; between the tunic and the flames, your body was +half consumed. Anyhow, it would be enough to mention that I was never a slave +like you, never combed wool in Lydia, masquerading in a purple shawl and being +slippered by an Omphale, never killed my wife and children in a fit of the +spleen. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her.</i> If you don’t stop being rude, I shall soon show you that +immortality is not much good. I will take you up and pitch you head over heels +out of Heaven, and Apollo himself shall never mend your broken crown. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus.</i> +Cease, I say, and let us hear ourselves speak, or I will send you both away +from table. Heracles, Asclepius died before you, and has the right to a better +place. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +<h4>XIV</h4> + +<p> +<i>Hermes. Apollo</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Why so sad, Apollo? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ap</i>. Alas, Hermes,—my love! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Oh; that’s bad. What, are you still brooding over that affair of +Daphne? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ap</i>. No. I grieve for my beloved; the Laconian, the son of Oebalus. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Hyacinth? he is not dead? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ap</i>. Dead. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Who killed him? Who could have the heart? That lovely boy! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ap</i>. It was the work of my own hand. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. You must have been mad! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ap</i>. Not mad; it was an accident. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Oh? and how did it happen? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ap</i>. He was learning to throw the quoit, and I was throwing with him. I +had just sent my quoit up into the air as usual, when jealous Zephyr (damned be +he above all winds! he had long been in love with Hyacinth, though Hyacinth +would have nothing to say to him)—Zephyr came blustering down from +Taygetus, and dashed the quoit upon the child’s head; blood flowed from the +wound in streams, and in one moment all was over. My first thought was of +revenge; I lodged an arrow in Zephyr, and pursued his flight to the mountain. +As for the child, I buried him at Amyclae, on the fatal spot; and from his +blood I have caused a flower to spring up, sweetest, fairest of flowers, +inscribed with letters of woe.—Is my grief unreasonable? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. It is, Apollo. You knew that you had set your heart upon a mortal: +grieve not then for his mortality. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +<h4>XV</h4> + +<p> +<i>Hermes. Apollo</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. To think that a cripple and a blacksmith like him should marry two +such queens of beauty as Aphrodite and Charis! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ap</i>. Luck, Hermes—that is all. But I do wonder at their putting up +with his company; they see him running with sweat, bent over the forge, all +sooty-faced; and yet they cuddle and kiss him, and sleep with him! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Yes, it makes me angry too; how I envy him! Ah, Apollo, you may let +your locks grow, and play your harp, and be proud of your looks; I am a healthy +fellow, and can touch the lyre; but, when it comes to bedtime, we lie alone. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ap</i>. Well, my loves never prosper; Daphne and Hyacinth were my great +passions; she so detested me that being turned to a tree was more attractive +than I; and him I killed with a quoit. Nothing is left me of them but wreaths +of their leaves and flowers. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Ah, once, once, I and Aphrodite—but no; no boasting. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ap</i>. I know; that is how Hermaphroditus is accounted for. But perhaps you +can tell me how it is that Aphrodite and Charis are not jealous of one another. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Because one is his wife in Lemnus and the other in Heaven. Besides, +Aphrodite cares most about Ares; he is her real love; so she does not trouble +her head about the blacksmith. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ap</i>. Do you think Hephaestus sees? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Oh, he sees, yes; but what can he do? he knows what a martial young +fellow it is; so he holds his tongue. He talks of inventing a net, though, to +take them in the act with. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ap</i>. Ah, all I know is, I would not mind being taken in that act. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +<h4>XVI</h4> + +<p> +<i>Hera. Leto</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Hera</i>. I must congratulate you, madam, on the children with whom you have +presented Zeus. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Leto</i>. Ah, madam; we cannot all be the proud mothers of Hephaestuses. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Hera</i>. My boy may be a cripple, but at least he is of some use. He is a +wonderful smith, and has made Heaven look another place; and Aphrodite thought +him worth marrying, and dotes on him still. But those two of yours !—that +girl is wild and mannish to a degree; and now she has gone off to Scythia, and +her doings <i>there</i> are no secret; she is as bad as any Scythian +herself,—butchering strangers and eating them! Apollo, too, who pretends +to be so clever, with his bow and his lyre and his medicine and his prophecies; +those oracle-shops that he has opened at Delphi, and Clarus, and Dindyma, are a +cheat; he takes good care to be on the safe side by giving ambiguous answers +that no one can understand, and makes money out of it, for there are plenty of +fools who like being imposed upon,—but sensible people know well enough +that most of it is clap-trap. The prophet did not know that he was to kill his +favourite with a quoit; he never foresaw that Daphne would run away from him, +so handsome as he is, too, such beautiful hair! I am not sure, after all, that +there is much to choose between your children and Niobe’s. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Leto</i>. Oh, of course; my children are butchers and impostors. I know how +you hate the sight of them. You cannot bear to hear my girl complimented on her +looks, or my boy’s playing admired by the company. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Hera</i>. His playing, madam!—excuse a smile;—why, if the Muses +had not favoured him, his contest with Marsyas would have cost him his skin; +poor Marsyas was shamefully used on that occasion; ’twas a judicial +murder.—As for your charming daughter, when Actaeon once caught sight of +her charms, she had to set the dogs upon him, for fear he should tell all he +knew: I forbear to ask where the innocent child picked up her knowledge of +obstetrics. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Leto</i>. You set no small value on yourself, madam, because you are the +wife of Zeus, and share his throne; you may insult whom you please. But there +will be tears presently, when the next bull or swan sets out on his travels, +and you are left neglected. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +<h4>XVIII</h4> + +<p> +<i>Hera. Zeus</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Hera</i>. Well, Zeus, I should be ashamed if <i>I</i> had such a son; so +effeminate, and so given to drinking; tying up his hair in a ribbon, indeed! +and spending most of his time among mad women, himself as much a woman as any +of them; dancing to flute and drum and cymbal! He resembles any one rather than +his father. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Anyhow, my dear, this wearer of ribbons, this woman among women, +not content with conquering Lydia, subduing Thrace, and enthralling the people +of Tmolus, has been on an expedition all the way to India with his womanish +host, captured elephants, taken possession of the country, and led their king +captive after a brief resistance. And he never stopped dancing all the time, +never relinquished the thyrsus and the ivy; always drunk (as you say) and +always inspired! If any scoffer presumes to make light of his ceremonial, he +does not go unpunished; he is bound with vine-twigs; or his own mother mistakes +him for a fawn, and tears him limb from limb. Are not these manful doings, +worthy of a son of Zeus? No doubt he is fond of his comforts, too, and his +amusements; we need not complain of that: you may judge from his drunken +achievements, what a handful the fellow would be if he were sober. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Hera</i>. I suppose you will tell me next, that the invention of wine is +very much to his credit; though you see for yourself how drunken men stagger +about and misbehave themselves; one would think the liquor had made them mad. +Look at Icarius, the first to whom he gave the vine: beaten to death with +mattocks by his own boon companions! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Pooh, nonsense. That is not Dionysus’s fault, nor the wine’s +fault; it comes of the immoderate use of it. Men <i>will</i> drink their wine +neat, and drink too much of it. Taken in moderation, it engenders cheerfulness +and benevolence. Dionysus is not likely to treat any of his guests as Icarius +was treated.—No; I see what it is:—you are jealous, my love; you +can’t forget about Semele, and so you must disparage the noble achievements of +her son. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +<h4>XIX</h4> + +<p> +<i>Aphrodite</i>. <i>Eros</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aph</i>. Eros, dear, you have had your victories over most of the +Gods—Zeus, Posidon, Rhea, Apollo, nay, your own mother; how is it you +make an exception for Athene? against her your torch has no fire, your quiver +no arrows, your right hand no cunning. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Eros</i>. I am afraid of her, mother; those awful flashing eyes! she is like +a man, only worse. When I go against her with my arrow on the string, a toss of +her plume frightens me; my hand shakes so that it drops the bow. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aph</i>. I should have thought Ares was more terrible still; but you +disarmed and conquered him. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Eros</i>. Ah, he is only too glad to have me; he calls me to him. Athene +always eyes me so! once when I flew close past her, quite by accident, with my +torch, ‘If you come near me,’ she called out, ‘I swear by my father, I will run +you through with my spear, or take you by the foot and drop you into Tartarus, +or tear you in pieces with my own hands’—and more such dreadful things. +And she has such a sour look; and then on her breast she wears that horrid face +with the snaky hair; that frightens me worst of all; the nasty bogy—I run +away directly I see it. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aph</i>. Well, well, you are afraid of Athene and the Gorgon; at least so +you say, though you do not mind Zeus’s thunderbolt a bit. But why do you let +the Muses go scot free? do <i>they</i> toss their plumes and hold out Gorgons’ +heads? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Eros</i>. Ah, mother, they make me bashful; they are so grand, always +studying and composing; I love to stand there listening to their music. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aph</i>. Let them pass too, because they are grand. And why do you never +take a shot at Artemis? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Eros</i>. Why, the great thing is that I cannot catch her; she is always +over the hills and far away. But besides that, her heart is engaged already. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aph</i>. Where, child? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Eros</i>. In hunting stags and fawns; she is so fleet, she catches them up, +or else shoots them; she can think of nothing else. Her brother, now, though he +is an archer too, and draws a good arrow— +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aph</i>. I know, child, you have hit <i>him</i> often enough. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +<h4>XX.<br/> +THE JUDGEMENT OF PARIS</h4> + +<p> +<i>Zeus. Hermes. Hera. Athene. Aphrodite. Paris</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Hermes, take this apple, and go with it to Phrygia; on the +Gargaran peak of Ida you will find Priam’s son, the herdsman. Give him this +message: ‘Paris, because you are handsome, and wise in the things of love, Zeus +commands you to judge between the Goddesses, and say which is the most +beautiful. And the prize shall be this apple.’—Now, you three, there is +no time to be lost: away with you to your judge. I will have nothing to do with +the matter: I love you all exactly alike, and I only wish you could all three +win. If I were to give the prize to one of you, the other two would hate me, of +course. In these circumstances, I am ill qualified to be your judge. But this +young Phrygian to whom you are going is of the royal blood—a relation of +Ganymede’s,—and at the same time a simple countryman; so that we need +have no hesitation in trusting his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aph</i>. As far as I am concerned, Zeus, Momus himself might be our judge; +<i>I</i> should not be afraid to show myself. What fault could he find with +<i>me</i>? But the others must agree too. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Hera</i>. Oh, we are under no alarm, thank you,—though your admirer +Ares should be appointed. But Paris will do; whoever Paris is. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. And my little Athene; have we her approval? Nay, never blush, nor +hide your face. Well, well, maidens will be coy; ’tis a delicate subject. But +there, she nods consent. Now, off with you; and mind, the beaten ones must not +be cross with the judge; I will not have the poor lad harmed. The prize of +beauty can be but one. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Herm</i>. Now for Phrygia. I will show the way; keep close behind me, +ladies, and don’t be nervous. I know Paris well: he is a charming young man; a +great gallant, and an admirable judge of beauty. Depend on it, he will make a +good award. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aph</i>. I am glad to hear that; I ask for nothing better than a just +judge.—Has he a wife, Hermes, or is he a bachelor? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Herm</i>. Not exactly a bachelor. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aph</i>. What do you mean? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Herm</i>. I believe there is a wife, as it were; a good enough sort of +girl—a native of those parts—but sadly countrified! I fancy he does +not care very much about her.—Why do you ask? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aph</i>. I just wanted to know. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ath</i>. Now, Hermes, that is not fair. No whispering with Aphrodite. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Herm</i>. It was nothing, Athene; nothing about you. She only asked me +whether Paris was a bachelor. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ath</i>. What business is that of hers? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Herm</i>. None that I know of. She meant nothing by the question; she just +wanted to know. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ath</i>. Well, and is he? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Herm</i>. Why, no. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ath</i>. And does he care for military glory? has he ambition? Or is he a +<i>mere</i> neatherd? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Herm</i>. I couldn’t say for certain. But he is a young man, so it is to be +presumed that distinction on the field of battle is among his desires. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aph</i>. There, you see; <i>I</i> don’t complain; I say nothing when you +whisper with <i>her</i>. Aphrodite is not so particular as some people. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Herm</i>. Athene asked me almost exactly the same as you did; so don’t be +cross. It will do you no harm, my answering a plain question.—Meanwhile, +we have left the stars far behind us, and are almost over Phrygia. There is +Ida: I can make out the peak of Gargarum quite plainly; and if I am not +mistaken, there is Paris himself. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Hera</i>. Where is he? I don’t see him. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Herm</i>. Look over there to the left, Hera: not on the top, but down the +side, by that cave where you see the herd. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Hera</i>. But I <i>don’t</i> see the herd. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Herm</i>. What, don’t you see them coming out from between the +rocks,—where I am pointing, look—and the man running down from the +crag, and keeping them together with his staff? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Hera</i>. I see him now; if he it is. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Herm</i>. Oh, that is Paris. But we are getting near; it is time to alight +and walk. He might be frightened, if we were to descend upon him so suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Hera</i>. Yes; very well. And now that we are on the earth, you might go on +ahead, Aphrodite, and show us the way. You know the country, of course, having +been here so often to see Anchises; or so I have heard. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aph</i>. Your sneers are thrown away on me, Hera. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Herm</i>. Come; I’ll lead the way myself. I spent some time on Ida, while +Zeus was courting Ganymede. Many is the time that I have been sent here to keep +watch over the boy; and when at last the eagle came, I flew by his side, and +helped him with his lovely burden. This is the very rock, if I remember; yes, +Ganymede was piping to his sheep, when down swooped the eagle behind him, and +tenderly, oh, so tenderly, caught him up in those talons, and with the turban +in his beak bore him off, the frightened boy straining his neck the while to +see his captor. I picked up his pipes—he had dropped them in his fright +and—ah! here is our umpire, close at hand. Let us accost +him.—Good-morrow, herdsman! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. Good-morrow, youngster. And who may you be, who come thus far +afield? And these dames? They are over comely, to be wandering on the +mountain-side. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Herm</i>. ‘These dames,’ good Paris, are Hera, Athene, and Aphrodite; and I +am Hermes, with a message from Zeus. Why so pale and tremulous? Compose +yourself; there is nothing the matter. Zeus appoints you the judge of their +beauty. ‘Because you are handsome, and wise in the things of love’ (so runs the +message), ‘I leave the decision to you; and for the prize,—read the +inscription on the apple.’ +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. Let me see what it is about. FOR THE FAIR, it says. But, my lord +Hermes, how shall a mortal and a rustic like myself be judge of such +unparalleled beauty? This is no sight for a herdsman’s eyes; let the fine city +folk decide on such matters. As for me, I can tell you which of two goats is +the fairer beast; or I can judge betwixt heifer and heifer;—’tis my +trade. But here, where all are beautiful alike, I know not how a man may leave +looking at one, to look upon another. Where my eyes fall, there they +fasten,—for there is beauty: I move them, and what do I find? more +loveliness! I am fixed again, yet distracted by neighbouring charms. I bathe in +beauty: I am enthralled: ah, why am I not <i>all</i> eyes like Argus? Methinks +it were a fair award, to give the apple to all three. Then again: one is the +wife and sister of Zeus; the others are his daughters. Take it where you will, +’tis a hard matter to judge. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Herm</i>. So it is, Paris. At the same time—Zeus’s orders! There is no +way out of it. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. Well, please point out to them, Hermes, that the losers must not be +angry with me; the fault will be in my eyes only. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Herm</i>. That is quite understood. And now to work. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. I must do what I can; there is no help for it. But first let me +ask,—am I just to look at them as they are, or must I go into the matter +thoroughly? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Herm</i>. That is for you to decide, in virtue of your office. You have only +to give your orders; it is as you think best. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. As I think best? Then I will be thorough. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Herm</i>. Get ready, ladies. Now, Mr. Umpire.—I will look the other +way. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Hera</i>. I approve your decision, Paris. I will be the first to submit +myself to your inspection. You shall see that I have more to boast of than +white arms and large eyes: nought of me but is beautiful. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. Aphrodite, will you also prepare? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ath</i>. Oh, Paris,—make her take off that girdle, first; there is +magic in it; she will bewitch you. For that matter, she has no right to come +thus tricked out and painted,—just like a courtesan! She ought to show +herself unadorned. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. They are right about the girdle, madam; it must go. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aph</i>. Oh, very well, Athene: then take off that helmet, and show your +head bare, instead of trying to intimidate the judge with that waving plume. I +suppose you are afraid the colour of your eyes may be noticed, without their +formidable surroundings. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ath</i>. Oh, here is my helmet. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aph</i>. And here is my girdle. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Hera</i>. Now then. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. God of wonders! What loveliness is here! Oh, rapture! How exquisite +these maiden charms! How dazzling the majesty of Heaven’s true queen! And oh, +how sweet, how enthralling is Aphrodite’s smile! ’Tis too much, too much of +happiness.—But perhaps it would be well for me to view each in detail; +for as yet I doubt, and know not where to look; my eyes are drawn all ways at +once. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aph</i>. Yes, that will be best. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. Withdraw then, you and Athene; and let Hera remain. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Hera</i>. So be it; and when you have finished your scrutiny, you have next +to consider, how you would like the present which I offer you. Paris, give me +the prize of beauty, and you shall be lord of all Asia. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. I will take no presents. Withdraw. I shall judge as I think right. +Approach, Athene. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ath</i>. Behold. And, Paris, if you will say that I am the fairest, I will +make you a great warrior and conqueror, and you shall always win, in every one +of your battles. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. But I have nothing to do with fighting, Athene. As you see, there +is peace throughout all Lydia and Phrygia, and my father’s dominion is +uncontested. But never mind; I am not going to take your present, but you shall +have fair play. You can robe again and put on your helmet; I have seen. And now +for Aphrodite. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aph</i>. Here I am; take your time, and examine carefully; let nothing +escape your vigilance. And I have something else to say to you, handsome Paris. +Yes, you handsome boy, I have long had an eye on you; I think you must be the +handsomest young fellow in all Phrygia. But it is such a pity that you don’t +leave these rocks and crags, and live in a town; you will lose all your beauty +in this desert. What have you to do with mountains? What satisfaction can your +beauty give to a lot of cows? You ought to have been married long ago; not to +any of these dowdy women hereabouts, but to some Greek girl; an Argive, +perhaps, or a Corinthian, or a Spartan; Helen, now, is a Spartan, and such a +pretty girl—quite as pretty as I am—and so susceptible! Why, if she +once caught sight of <i>you</i>, she would give up everything, I am sure, to go +with you, and a most devoted wife she would be. But you have heard of Helen, of +course? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. No, ma’am; but I should like to hear all about her now. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aph</i>. Well, she is the daughter of Leda, the beautiful woman, you know, +whom Zeus visited in the disguise of a swan. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. And what is she like? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aph</i>. She is fair, as might be expected from the swan, soft as down (she +was hatched from an egg, you know), and such a lithe, graceful figure; and only +think, she is so much admired, that there was a war because Theseus ran away +with her; and she was a mere child then. And when she grew up, the very first +men in Greece were suitors for her hand, and she was given to Menelaus, who is +descended from Pelops.—Now, if you like, she shall be your wife. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. What, when she is married already? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aph</i>. Tut, child, you are a simpleton: <i>I</i> understand these things. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. I should like to understand them too. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aph</i>. You will set out for Greece on a tour of inspection: and when you +get to Sparta, Helen will see you; and for the rest—her falling in love, +and going back with you—that will be my affair. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. But that is what I cannot believe,—that she will forsake her +husband to cross the seas with a stranger, a barbarian. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aph</i>. Trust me for that. I have two beautiful children, Love and Desire. +They shall be your guides. Love will assail her in all his might, and compel +her to love you: Desire will encompass you about, and make you desirable and +lovely as himself; and I will be there to help. I can get the Graces to come +too, and between us we shall prevail. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. How this will end, I know not. All I do know is, that I am in love +with Helen already. I see her before me—I sail for Greece I am in +Sparta—I am on my homeward journey, with her at my side! Ah, why is none +of it true? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aph</i>. Wait. Do not fall in love yet. You have first to secure my interest +with the bride, by your award. The union must be graced with my victorious +presence: your marriage-feast shall be my feast of victory. Love, beauty, +wedlock; all these you may purchase at the price of yonder apple. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. But perhaps after the award you will forget all about <i>me</i>? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aph</i>. Shall I swear? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. No; but promise once more. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aph</i>. I promise that you shall have Helen to wife; that she shall follow +you, and make Troy her home; and I will be present with you, and help you in +all. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. And bring Love, and Desire, and the Graces? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aph.</i> Assuredly; and Passion and Hymen as well. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. Take the apple: it is yours. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +<h4>XXI</h4> + +<p> +<i>Ares. Hermes</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ar</i>. Did you hear Zeus’s threat, Hermes? most complimentary, wasn’t it, +and most practicable? ‘If I choose,’ says he, ‘I could let down a cord from +Heaven, and all of you might hang on to it and do your very best to pull me +down; it would be waste labour; you would never move me. On the other hand, if +I chose to haul up, I should have you all dangling in mid air, with earth and +sea into the bargain and so on; you heard? Well, I dare say he <i>is</i> too +much for any of us individually, but I will never believe he outweighs the +whole of us in a body, or that, even with the makeweight of earth and sea, we +should not get the better of him. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Mind what you say, Ares; it is not safe to talk like that; we might +get paid out for chattering. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ar</i>. You don’t suppose I should say this to every one; I am not afraid of +you; I know you can keep a quiet tongue. I <i>must</i> tell you what made me +laugh most while he stormed: I remember not so long ago, when Posidon and Hera +and Athene rebelled and made a plot for his capture and imprisonment, he was +frightened out of his wits; well, there were only three of them, and if Thetis +had not taken pity on him and called in the hundred-handed Briareus to the +rescue, he would actually have been put in chains, with his thunder and his +bolt beside him. When I worked out the sum, I could not help laughing. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Oh, do be quiet; such things are too risky for you to say or me to +listen to. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +<h4>XXIV</h4> + +<p> +<i>Hermes</i>. <i>Maia</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Mother, I am the most miserable god in Heaven. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ma</i>. Don’t say such things, child. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Am I to do all the work of Heaven with my own hands, to be hurried +from one piece of drudgery to another, and never say a word? I have to get up +early, sweep the dining-room, lay the cushions and put all to rights; then I +have to wait on Zeus, and take his messages, up and down, all day long; and I +am no sooner back again (no time for a wash) than I have to lay the table; and +there was the nectar to pour out, too, till this new cup-bearer was bought. And +it really is too bad, that when every one else is in bed, I should have to go +off to Pluto with the Shades, and play the usher in Rhadamanthus’s court. It is +not enough that I must be busy all day in the wrestling-ground and the Assembly +and the schools of rhetoric, the dead must have their share in me too. Leda’s +sons take turn and turn about betwixt Heaven and Hades—<i>I</i> have to +be in both every day. And why should the sons of Alemena and Semele, paltry +women, why should they feast at their ease, and I—the son of Maia, the +grandson of Atlas—wait upon them? And now here am I only just back from +Sidon, where he sent me to see after Europa, and before I am in breath +again—off I must go to Argos, in quest of Danae, ‘and you can take +Boeotia on your way,’ says father, ‘and see Antiope.’ I am half dead with it +all. Mortal slaves are better off than I am: they have the chance of being sold +to a new master; I wish I had the same! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ma</i>. Come, come, child. You must do as your father bids you, like a good +boy. Run along now to Argos and Boeotia; don’t loiter, or you will get a +whipping. Lovers are apt to be hasty. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +<h4>XXV</h4> + +<p> +<i>Zeus. Helius</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. What have you been about, you villainous Titan? You have utterly +done for the earth, trusting your car to a silly boy like that; he has got too +near and scorched it in one place, and in another killed everything with frost +by withdrawing the heat too far; there is not a single thing he has not turned +upside down; if I had not seen what was happening and upset him with the +thunderbolt, there would not have been a remnant of mankind left. A pretty +deputy driver! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Hel</i>. I was wrong, Zeus; but do not be angry with me; my boy pressed me +so; how could I tell it would turn out so badly? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Oh, of course you didn’t know what a delicate business it is, and +how the slightest divergence ruins everything! it never occurred to you that +the horses are spirited, and want a tight hand! oh no! why, give them their +heads a moment, and they are out of control; just what happened: they carried +him now left, now right, now clean round backwards, and up or down, just at +their own sweet will; he was utterly helpless. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Hel</i>. I knew it all; I held out for a long time and told him he mustn’t +drive. But he wept and entreated, and his mother Clymene joined in, and at last +I put him up. I showed him how to stand, and how far he was to mount upwards, +and where to begin descending, and how to hold the reins, and keep the spirited +beasts under control; and I told him how dangerous it was, if he did not keep +the track. But, poor boy, when he found himself in charge of all that fire, and +looking down into yawning space, he was frightened, and no wonder; and the +horses soon knew I was not behind them, took the child’s measure, left the +track, and wrought all this havoc; he let go the reins—I suppose he was +afraid of being thrown out—and held on to the rail. But he has suffered +for it, and my grief is punishment enough for me, Zeus. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Punishment enough, indeed! after daring to do such a thing as +that!—Well, I forgive you this time. But if ever you transgress again, or +send another substitute like him, I will show you how much hotter the +thunderbolt is than your fire. Let his sisters bury him by the Eridanus, where +he was upset. They shall weep amber tears and be changed by their grief into +poplars. As for you, repair the car—the pole is broken, and one of the +wheels crushed—, put the horses to and drive yourself. And let this be a +lesson to you. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +<h4>XXVI</h4> + +<p> +<i>Apollo. Hermes</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ap</i>. Hermes, have you any idea which of those two is Castor, and which is +Pollux? I never can make out. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. It was Castor yesterday, and Pollux to-day. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ap</i>. How do you tell? They are exactly alike. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Why, Pollux’s face is scarred with the wounds he got in boxing; +those that Amycus, the Bebrycian, gave him, when he was on that expedition with +Jason, are particularly noticeable. Castor has no marks; his face is all right. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ap</i>. Good; I am glad I know that. Everything else is the same for both. +Each has his half egg-shell, with the star on top, each his javelin and his +white horse. I am always calling Pollux Castor, and Castor Pollux. And, by the +way, why are they never both here together? Why should they be alternately gods +and shades? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. That is their brotherly way. You see, it was decreed that one of +the sons of Leda must die, and the other be immortal; and by this arrangement +they split the immortality between them. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ap</i>. Rather a stupid way of doing it: if one of them is to be in Heaven, +whilst the other is underground, they will never see one another at all; and I +suppose that is just what they wanted to do. Then again: all the other gods +practise some useful profession, either here or on earth; for instance, I am a +prophet, Asclepius is a doctor, you are a first-rate gymnast and trainer, +Artemis ushers children into the world; now what are these two going to do? +surely two such great fellows are not to have a lazy time of it? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Oh no. Their business is to wait upon Posidon, and ride the waves; +and if they see a ship in distress, they go aboard of her, and save the crew. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ap</i>. A most humane profession. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap10"></a>DIALOGUES OF THE SEA-GODS</h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p> +<i>Doris. Galatea</i>. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dor</i>. A handsome lover, Galatea, this Sicilian shepherd who they say is +so mad for you! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Gal</i>. Don’t be sarcastic, Doris; he is Posidon’s son, after all. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dor</i>. Well, and if he were Zeus’s, and still such a wild shaggy creature, +with only one eye (there is nothing uglier than to have only one eye), do you +think his birth would improve his beauty? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Gal</i>. Shagginess and wildness, as you call them, are not ugly in a man; +and his eye looks very well in the middle of his forehead, and sees just as +well as if it were two. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dor</i>. Why, my dear, from your raptures about him one would think it was +you that were in love, not he. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Gal</i>. Oh no, I am not in love; but it is too bad, your all running him +down as you do. It is my belief you are jealous, Do you remember? we were +playing on the shore at the foot of Etna, where the long strip of beach comes +between the mountain and the sea; he was feeding his sheep, and spied us from +above; yes, but he never so much as glanced at the rest of you; I was the +pretty one; he was all eyes—eye, I mean—for me. That is what makes +you spiteful, because it showed I was better than you, good enough to be loved, +while you were taken no notice of. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dor</i>. Hoity-toity! jealous indeed! because a one-eyed shepherd thinks you +pretty! Why, what could he see in you but your white skin? and he only cared +for that because it reminded him of cheese and milk; he thinks everything +pretty that is like them. If you want to know any more than that about your +looks, sit on a rock when it is calm, and lean over the water; just a bit of +white skin, that is all; and who cares for that, if it is not picked out with +some red? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Gal</i>. Well, if I <i>am</i> all white, I have got a lover of some sort; +there is not a shepherd or a sailor or a boatman to care for any of you. +Besides, Polyphemus is very musical. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dor</i>. Take care, dear; we heard him singing the other day when he +serenaded you. Heavens! one would have taken him for an ass braying. And his +lyre! what a thing! A stag’s skull, with its horns for the uprights; he put a +bar across, and fastened on the strings without any tuning-pegs! then came the +performance, all harsh and out of tune; he shouted something himself, and the +lyre played something else, and the love ditty sent us into fits of laughter. +Why, Echo, chatterbox that she is, would not answer him; she was ashamed to be +caught mimicking such a rough ridiculous song. Oh, and the pet that your beau +brought you in his arms!—a bear cub nearly as shaggy as himself. Now +then, Galatea, do you still think we envy you your lover? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Gal</i>. Well, Doris, only show us your own; no doubt he is much handsomer, +and sings and plays far better. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dor</i>. Oh, I have not got one; <i>I</i> do not set up to be lovely. But +one like the Cyclops—faugh, he might be one of his own goats!—he +eats raw meat, they say, and feeds on travellers—one like him, dear, you +may keep; I wish you nothing worse than to return his love. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p> +<i>Cyclops. Posidon</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cy</i>. Only look, father, what that cursed stranger has been doing to me! +He made me drunk, and set upon me whilst I was asleep, and blinded me. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Po</i>. Who has dared to do this? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cy</i>. He called himself ‘Noman’ at first: but when he had got safely out +of range, he said his name was Odysseus. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Po</i>. I know—the Ithacan; on his way back from Troy. But how did he +come to do such a thing? He is not distinguished for courage. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cy</i>. When I got back from the pasture, I caught a lot of the fellows in +my cave. Evidently they had designs upon the sheep: because when I had blocked +up my doorway (I have a great big stone for that), and kindled a fire, with a +tree that I had brought home from the mountain,—there they were trying to +hide themselves. I saw they were robbers, so I caught a few of them, and ate +them of course, and then that scoundrel of a Noman, or Odysseus, whichever it +is, gave me something to drink, with a drug in it; it tasted and smelt very +good, but it was villanously heady stuff; it made everything spin round; even +the cave seemed to be turning upside down, and I simply didn’t know where I +was; and finally I fell off to sleep. And then he sharpened that stake, and +made it hot in the fire, and blinded me in my sleep; and blind I have been ever +since, father. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Po</i>. You must have slept pretty soundly, my boy, or you would have jumped +up in the middle of it. Well, and how did Odysseus get off? He couldn’t move +that stone away, <i>I</i> know. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cy</i>. I took that away myself, so as to catch him as he went out. I sat +down in the doorway, and felt about for him with my hands. I just let the sheep +go out to pasture, and told the ram everything I wanted done. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Po</i>. Ah! and they slipped out under the sheep? But you should have set +the other Cyclopes on to him. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cy</i>. I did call them, and they came: but when they asked me who it was +that was playing tricks with me, I said ‘Noman’; and then they thought I was +mad, and went off home again. The villain! that name of his was just a trick! +And what I minded most was the way in which he made game of my misfortune: ‘Not +even Papa can put this right,’ he said. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Po</i>. Never mind, my boy; I will be even with him. I may not be able to +cure blindness, but he shall know that I have something to say to mariners. He +is not home yet. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p> +<i>Posidon. Alpheus</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pos</i>. What is the meaning of this, Alpheus? unlike others, when you take +your plunge you do not mingle with the brine as a river should; you do not put +an end to your labours by dispersing; you hold together through the sea, keep +your current fresh, and hurry along in all your original purity; you dive down +to strange depths like a gull or a heron; I suppose you will come to the top +again and show yourself somewhere or other. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Al</i>. Do not press me, Posidon; a love affair; and many is the time you +have been in love yourself. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pos</i>. Woman, nymph, or Nereid? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Al</i>. All wrong; she is a fountain. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pos</i>. A fountain? and where does she flow? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Al</i>. She is an islander—in Sicily. Her name is Arethusa. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pos</i>. Ah, I commend your taste. She is pellucid, and bubbles up in +perfect purity; the water as bright over her pebbles as if it were a mass of +silver. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Al</i>. You know my fountain, Posidon, and no mistake. It is to her that I +go. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pos</i>. Go, then; and may the course of love run smooth! But pray where did +you meet her? Arcadia and Syracuse, you know! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Al</i>. I am in a hurry; you are detaining me, with these superfluous +questions. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pos</i>. Ah, so I am. Be off to your beloved, rise from the sea, mingle your +channels and be one water. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<p> +<i>Menelaus. Proteus</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. I can understand your turning into <i>water</i>, you know, Proteus, +because you <i>are</i> a sea-god. I can even pass the tree; and the lion is not +wholly beyond the bounds of belief. But the idea of your being able to turn +into <i>fire</i>, living under water as you do,—this excites my surprise, +not to say my incredulity. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pro</i>. Don’t let it; because I can. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. I have seen you do it. But (to be frank with you) I think there must +be some deception; you play tricks with one’s eyes; you don’t really turn into +anything of the kind? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pro</i>. Deception? What deception can there possibly be? Everything is +above-board. Your eyes were open, I suppose, and you saw me change into all +these things? If that is not enough for you, if you think it is a fraud, an +optical illusion, I will turn into fire again, and you can touch me with your +hand, my sagacious friend. You will then be able to conclude whether I am only +visible fire, or have the additional property of burning. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. That would be rash. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pro</i>. I suppose you have never seen such a thing as a polypus, nor +observed the proceedings of that fish? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. I have seen them; as to their proceedings, I shall be glad of your +information. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pro</i>. The polypus, having selected his rock, and attached himself by +means of his suckers, assimilates himself to it, changing his colour to match +that of the rock. By this means he hopes to escape the observation of +fishermen: there is no contrast of colour to betray his presence; he looks just +like stone. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. So I have heard. But yours is quite another matter, Proteus. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pro</i>. I don’t know what evidence would satisfy you, if you reject that of +your own eyes. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. I have seen it done, but it is an extraordinary business; fire and +water, one and the same person! +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +<h4>V</h4> + +<p> +<i>Panope. Galene</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pa</i>. Galene, did you see what Eris did yesterday at the Thessalian +banquet, because she had not had an invitation? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ga</i>, No, I was not with you; Posidon had told me to keep the sea quiet +for the occasion. What did Eris do, then, if she was not there? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pa</i>. Thetis and Peleus had just gone off to the bridal chamber, conducted +by Amphitrite and Posidon, when Eris came in unnoticed—which was easy +enough; some were drinking, some dancing, or attending to Apollo’s lyre or the +Muses’ songs—Well, she threw down a lovely apple, solid gold, my dear; +and there was written on it, FOR THE FAIR. It rolled along as if it knew what +it was about, till it came in front of Hera, Aphrodite, and Athene. Hermes +picked it up and read out the inscription; of course we Nereids kept quiet; +what should <i>we</i> do in such company? But they all made for it, each +insisting that it was hers; and if Zeus had not parted them, there would have +been a battle. He would not decide the matter himself, though they asked him +to. ‘Go, all of you, to Ida,’ he said, ‘to the son of Priam; he is a man of +taste, quite capable of picking out the beauty; he will be no bad judge.’ +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ga</i>. Yes. and the Goddesses, Panope? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pa</i>. They are going to Ida to-day, I believe; we shall soon have news of +the result. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ga</i>. Oh, I can tell you that now; if the umpire is not a blind man, no +one else can win, with Aphrodite in for it. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Triton. Posidon. Amymone</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tri</i>. Posidon, there is such a pretty girl coming to Lerna for water +every day; I don’t know that I ever saw a prettier. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pos</i>. What is she, a lady? or a mere water-carrier? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tri</i>. Oh no; she is one of the fifty daughters of that Egyptian king. Her +name is Amymone; I asked about that and her family. Danaus understands +discipline; he is bringing them up to do everything for themselves; they have +to fetch water, and make themselves generally useful. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pos</i>. And does she come all that way by herself, from Argos to Lerna? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tri</i>. Yes; and Argos, you know, is a thirsty place; she is always having +to get water. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pos</i>. Triton, this is most exciting. We must go and see her. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tri</i>. Very well. It is just her time now; I reckon she will be about +half-way to Lerna. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pos</i>. Bring out the chariot, then. Or no; it takes such a time getting it +ready, and putting the horses to. Just fetch me out a good fast dolphin; that +will be quickest. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tri</i>. Here is a racer for you. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pos</i>. Good; now let us be off. You swim alongside.—Here we are at +Lerna. I’ll lie in ambush hereabouts; and you keep a look-out. When you see her +coming— +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tri</i>. Here she comes. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pos</i>. A charming child; the dawn of loveliness. We must carry her off. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Am</i>. Villain! where are you taking me to? You are a kidnapper. I know who +sent you—my uncle Aegyptus. I shall call my father. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tri</i>. Hush, Amymone; it is Posidon. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Am</i>. Posidon? What do you mean? Unhand me, villain! would you drag me +into the sea? Help, help, I shall sink and be drowned. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pos</i>. Don’t be frightened; no harm shall be done to you. Come, you shall +have a fountain called after you; it shall spring up in this very place, near +the waves; I will strike the rock with my trident.—Think how nice it will +be being dead, and not having to carry water any more, like all your sisters. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +<h4>VII</h4> + +<p> +<i>South Wind. West Wind</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>S</i>. Zephyr, is it true about Zeus and the heifer that Hermes is convoying +across the sea to Egypt?—that he fell in love with it? +</p> + +<p> +<i>W</i>. Certainly. She was not a heifer then, though, but a daughter of the +river Inachus. Hera made her what she is now; Zeus was so deep in love that +Hera was jealous. +</p> + +<p> +<i>S</i>. And is he still in love, now that she is a cow? +</p> + +<p> +<i>W</i>. Oh, yes; that is why he has sent her to Egypt, and told us not to +stir up the sea till she has swum across; she is to be delivered there of her +child, and both of them are to be Gods. +</p> + +<p> +<i>S</i>. The heifer a God? +</p> + +<p> +<i>W</i>. Yes, I tell you. And Hermes said she was to be the patroness of +sailors and our mistress, and send out or confine any of us that she chooses. +</p> + +<p> +<i>S</i>. So we must regard ourselves as her servants at once? +</p> + +<p> +<i>W</i>. Why, yes; she will be the kinder if we do. Ah, she has got across and +landed. Do you see? she does not go on four legs now; Hermes has made her stand +erect, and turned her back into a beautiful woman. +</p> + +<p> +<i>S</i>. This is most remarkable, Zephyr; no horns, no tail, no cloven hoofs; +instead, a lovely maid. But what is the matter with Hermes? he has changed his +handsome face into a dog’s. +</p> + +<p> +<i>W</i>. We had better not meddle; he knows his own business best. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +<h4>VIII</h4> + +<p> +<i>Posidon. Dolphins</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pos</i>. Well done, Dolphins!—humane as ever. Not content with your +former exploit, when Ino leapt with Melicertes from the Scironian cliff, and +you picked the boy up and conveyed him to the Isthmus, one of you swims from +Methymna to Taenarum with this musician on his back, mantle and lyre and all. +Those sailors had almost had their wicked will of him; but you were not going +to stand that. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dol</i>. You need not be surprised to find us doing a good turn to a man, +Posidon; we were men before we were fishes. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pos</i>. Yes; I think it was too bad of Dionysus to celebrate his victory by +such a transformation scene; he might have been content with adding you to the +roll of his subjects.—Well, Dolphin, tell me all about Arion. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dol</i>. From what I can gather, Periander was very fond of him, and was +always sending for him to perform; till Arion grew quite rich at his expense, +and thought he would take a trip to Methymna, and show off his wealth at home. +He took ship accordingly; but it was with a crew of rogues. He had made no +secret of the gold and silver he had with him; and when they were in mid +Aegean, the sailors rose against him. As I was swimming alongside, I heard all +that went on. ‘Since your minds are made up,’ says Arion, ‘at least let me get +my mantle on, and sing my own dirge; and then I will throw myself into the sea +of my own accord.’—The sailors agreed. He threw his minstrel’s cloak +about him, and sang a most sweet melody; and then he let himself drop into the +water, never doubting but that his last moment had come. But I caught him up on +my back, and swam to shore with him at Taenarum. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pos</i>. I am glad to find you a patron of the arts. This was handsome pay +for a song. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +<h4>IX</h4> + +<p> +<i>Posidon. Amphitrite and other Nereids</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pos</i>. The strait where the child fell shall be called Hellespont after +her. And as for her body, you Nereids shall take it to the Troad to be buried +by the inhabitants. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Amph</i>. Oh no, Posidon. Let her grave be the sea which bears her name. We +are so sorry for her; that step-mother’s treatment of her was shocking. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pos</i>. No, my dear, that may not be. And indeed it is not desirable that +she should lie here under the sand; her grave shall be in the Troad, as I said, +or in the Chersonese. It will be no small consolation to her that Ino will have +the same fate before long. She will be chased by Athamas from the top of +Cithaeron down the ridge which runs into the sea, and there plunge in with her +son in her arms. But her we must rescue, to please Dionysus; Ino was his nurse +and suckled him, you know. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Amph</i>. Rescue a wicked creature like her? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pos</i>. Well, we do not want to disoblige Dionysus. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Nereid</i>. I wonder what made the poor child fall off the ram; her brother +Phrixus held on all right. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pos</i>. Of course he did; a lusty youth equal to the flight; but it was all +too strange for her; sitting on that queer mount, looking down on yawning +space, terrified, overpowered by the heat, giddy with the speed, she lost her +hold on the ram’s horns, and down she came into the sea. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Nereid</i>. Surely her mother Nephele should have broken her fall. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pos</i>. I dare say; but Fate is a great deal too strong for Nephele. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +<h4>X</h4> + +<p> +<i>Iris. Posidon</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ir</i>. Posidon: you know that floating island, that was torn away from +Sicily, and is still drifting about under water; you are to bring it to the +surface, Zeus says, and fix it well in view in the middle of the Aegean; and +mind it is properly secured; he has a use for it. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pos</i>. Very good. And when I have got it up, and anchored it, what is he +going to do with it? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ir</i>. Leto is to lie in there; her time is near. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pos</i>. And is there no room in Heaven? Or is Earth too small to hold her +children? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ir</i>. Ah, you see, Hera has bound the Earth by a great oath not to give +shelter to Leto in her travail. This island, however, being out of sight, has +not committed itself. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pos</i>. I see.—Island, be still! Rise once more from the depths; and +this time there must be no sinking. Henceforth you are <i>terra firma</i>; it +will be your happiness to receive my brother’s twin children, fairest of the +Gods.—Tritons, you will have to convey Leto across. Let all be +calm.—As to that serpent who is frightening her out of her senses, wait +till these children are born; they will soon avenge their mother.—You can +tell Zeus that all is ready. Delos stands firm: Leto has only to come. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +<h4>XI</h4> + +<p> +<i>The Xanthus. The Sea</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Xan</i>. O Sea, take me to you; see how horribly I have been treated; cool +my wounds for me. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sea</i>. What is this, Xanthus? who has burned you? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Xan</i>. Hephaestus. Oh, I am burned to cinders! oh, oh, oh, I boil! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sea</i>. What made him use his fire upon you? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Xan</i>. Why, it was all that son of your Thetis. He was slaughtering the +Phrygians; I tried entreaties, but he went raging on, damming my stream with +their bodies; I was so sorry for the poor wretches, I poured down to see if I +could make a flood and frighten him off them. But Hephaestus happened to be +about, and he must have collected every particle of fire he had in Etna or +anywhere else; on he came at me, scorched my elms and tamarisks, baked the poor +fishes and eels, made me boil over, and very nearly dried me up altogether. You +see what a state I am in with the burns. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sea</i>. Indeed you are thick and hot, Xanthus, and no wonder; the dead +men’s blood accounts for one, and the fire for the other, according to your +story. Well, and serve you right; assaulting my grandson, indeed! paying no +more respect to the son of a Nereid than that! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Xan</i>. Was I not to take compassion on the Phrygians? they are my +neighbours. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sea</i>. And was Hephaestus not to take compassion on Achilles? He is the +son of Thetis. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +<h4>XII</h4> + +<p> +<i>Doris. Thetis</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dor</i>. Crying, dear? +</p> + +<p> +<i>The</i>. Oh, Doris, I have just seen a lovely girl thrown into a chest by +her father, and her little baby with her; and he gave the chest to some +sailors, and told them, as soon as they were far enough from the shore, to drop +it into the water; he meant them to be drowned, poor things. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dor</i>. Oh, sister, but why? What was it all about? Did you hear? +</p> + +<p> +<i>The</i>. Her father, Acrisius, wanted to keep her from marrying. And, as she +was so pretty, he shut her up in an iron room. And—I don’t know whether +it’s true—but they say that Zeus turned himself into gold, and came +showering down through the roof, and she caught the gold in her lap,—and +it was Zeus all the time. And then her father found out about it—he is a +horrid, jealous old man—and he was furious, and thought she had been +receiving a lover; and he put her into the chest, the moment the child was +born. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dor</i>. And what did she do then? +</p> + +<p> +<i>The</i>. She never said a word against her own sentence; <i>she</i> was +ready to submit: but she pleaded hard for the child’s life, and cried, and held +him up for his grandfather to see; and there was the sweet babe, that thought +no harm, smiling at the waves. I am beginning again, at the mere remembrance of +it. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dor</i>. You make me cry, too. And is it all over? +</p> + +<p> +<i>The</i>. No; the chest has carried them safely so far; it is by Seriphus. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dor</i>. Then why should we not save them? We can put the chest into those +fishermen’s nets, look; and then of course they will be hauled in, and come +safe to shore. +</p> + +<p> +<i>The</i>. The very thing. She shall not die; nor the child, sweet treasure! +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +<h4>XIV</h4> + +<p> +<i>Triton. Iphianassa. Doris. Nereids</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tri</i>. Well, ladies: so the monster you sent against the daughter of +Cepheus has got killed himself, and never done Andromeda any harm at all! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Nereid</i>. Who did it? I suppose Cepheus was just using his daughter as a +bait, and had a whole army waiting in ambush to kill him? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tri</i>. No, no.—Iphianassa, you remember Perseus, Danae’s +boy?—they were both thrown into the sea by the boy’s grandfather, in that +chest, you know, and you took pity on them. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Iph</i>. I know; why, I suppose he is a fine handsome young fellow by now? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tri</i>. It was he who killed your monster. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Iph</i>. But why? This was not the way to show his gratitude. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tri</i>. I’ll tell you all about it. The king had sent him on this +expedition against the Gorgons, and when he got to Libya— +</p> + +<p> +<i>Iph</i>. How did he get there? all by himself? he must have had some one to +help him?—it is a dangerous journey otherwise. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tri</i>. He flew,—Athene gave him wings.—Well, so when he got to +where the Gorgons were living, he caught them napping, I suppose, cut off +Medusa’s head, and flew away. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Iph</i>. How could he see them? The Gorgons are a forbidden sight. Whoever +looks at them will never look at any one else again. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tri</i>. Athene held up her shield—I heard him telling Andromeda and +Cepheus about it afterwards—Athene showed him the reflection of the +Gorgon in her shield, which is as bright as any mirror; so he took hold of her +hair in his left hand, grasped his scimetar with the right, still looking at +the reflection, cut off her head, and was off before her sisters woke up. +Lowering his flight as he reached the Ethiopian coast yonder, he caught sight +of Andromeda, fettered to a jutting rock, her hair hanging loose about her +shoulders; ye Gods, what loveliness was there exposed to view! And first pity +of her hard fate prompted him to ask the cause of her doom: but Fate had +decreed the maiden’s deliverance, and presently Love stole upon him, and he +resolved to save her. The hideous monster now drew near, and would have +swallowed her: but the youth, hovering above, smote him with the drawn scimetar +in his right hand, and with his left uncovered the petrifying Gorgon’s head: in +one moment the monster was lifeless; all of him that had met that gaze was +turned to stone. Then Perseus released the maiden from her fetters, and +supported her, as with timid steps she descended from the slippery +rock.—And now he is to marry her in Cepheus’s palace, and take her home +to Argos; so that where she looked for death, she has found an uncommonly good +match. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Iph</i>. I am not sorry to hear it. It is no fault of hers, if her mother +has the vanity to set up for our rival. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dor</i>. Still, she <i>is</i> Andromeda’s mother; and we should have had our +revenge on her through the daughter. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Iph</i>. My dear, let bygones be bygones. What matter if a barbarian queen’s +tongue runs away with her? She is sufficiently punished by the fright. So let +us take this marriage in good part. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +<h4>XV</h4> + +<p> +<i>West Wind. South Wind</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>W</i>. Such a splendid pageant I never saw on the waves, since the day I +first blew. You were not there, Notus? +</p> + +<p> +<i>S</i>. Pageant, Zephyr? what pageant? and whose? +</p> + +<p> +<i>W</i>. You missed a most ravishing spectacle; such another chance you are +not likely to have. +</p> + +<p> +<i>S</i>. I was busy with the Red Sea; and I gave the Indian coasts a little +airing too. So I don’t know what you are talking about. +</p> + +<p> +<i>W</i>. Well, you know Agenor the Sidonian? +</p> + +<p> +<i>S</i>. Europa’s father? what of him? +</p> + +<p> +<i>W</i>. Europa it is that I am going to tell you about. +</p> + +<p> +<i>S</i>. You need not tell me that Zeus has been in love with her this long +while; that is stale news. +</p> + +<p> +<i>W</i>. We can pass the love, then, and get on to the sequel. +</p> + +<p> +Europa had come down for a frolic on the beach with her playfellows. Zeus +transformed himself into a bull, and joined the game. A fine sight he +was—spotless white skin, crumpled horns, and gentle eyes. He gambolled on +the shore with them, bellowing most musically, till Europa took heart of grace +and mounted him. No sooner had she done it than, with her on his back, Zeus +made off at a run for the sea, plunged in, and began swimming; she was +dreadfully frightened, but kept her seat by clinging to one of his horns with +her left hand, while the right held her skirt down against the puffs of wind. +</p> + +<p> +<i>S</i>. A lovely sight indeed, Zephyr, in every sense—Zeus swimming +with his darling on his back. +</p> + +<p> +<i>W</i>. Ay, but what followed was lovelier far. +</p> + +<p> +Every wave fell; the sea donned her robe of peace to speed them on their way; +we winds made holiday and joined the train, all eyes; fluttering Loves skimmed +the waves, just dipping now and again a heedless toe—in their hands +lighted torches, on their lips the nuptial song; up floated Nereids—few +but were prodigal of naked charms—and clapped their hands, and kept pace +on dolphin steeds; the Triton company, with every sea-creature that frights not +the eye, tripped it around the maid; for Posidon on his car, with Amphitrite by +him, led them in festal mood, ushering his brother through the waves. But, +crowning all, a Triton pair bore Aphrodite, reclined on a shell, heaping the +bride with all flowers that blow. +</p> + +<p> +So went it from Phoenice even to Crete. But, when he set foot on the isle, +behold, the bull was no more; ’twas Zeus that took Europa’s hand and led her to +the Dictaean Cave—blushing and downward-eyed; for she knew now the end of +her bringing. +</p> + +<p> +But we plunged this way and that, and roused the still seas anew. +</p> + +<p> +<i>S</i>. Ah me, what sights of bliss! and I was looking at griffins, and +elephants, and blackamoors! +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap11"></a>DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD</h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p> +<i>Diogenes. Pollux</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. Pollux, I have a commission for you; next time you go up—and +I think it is your turn for earth to-morrow—if you come across Menippus +the Cynic—you will find him about the Craneum at Corinth, or in the +Lyceum, laughing at the philosophers’ disputes—well, give him this +message:—Menippus, Diogenes advises you, if mortal subjects for laughter +begin to pall, to come down below, and find much richer material; where you are +now, there is always a dash of uncertainty in it; the question will always +intrude—who can be quite sure about the hereafter? Here, you can have +your laugh out in security, like me; it is the best of sport to see +millionaires, governors, despots, now mean and insignificant; you can only tell +them by their lamentations, and the spiritless despondency which is the legacy +of better days. Tell him this, and mention that he had better stuff his wallet +with plenty of lupines, and any un-considered trifles he can snap up in the way +of pauper doles [Footnote: In the Greek, ‘a Hecate’s repast lying at a street +corner.’ ‘Rich men used to make offerings to Hecate on the 30th of every month +as Goddess of roads at street corners; and these offerings were at once pounced +upon by the poor, or, as here, the Cynics.’ <i>Jacobitz</i>.] or lustral eggs. +[Footnote: ‘Eggs were often used as purificatory offerings and set out in front +of the house purified.’ <i>Id</i>.] +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pol</i>. I will tell him, Diogenes. But give me some idea of his appearance. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. Old, bald, with a cloak that allows him plenty of light and +ventilation, and is patched all colours of the rainbow; always laughing, and +usually gibing at pretentious philosophers. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pol</i>. Ah, I cannot mistake him now. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. May I give you another message to those same philosophers? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pol</i>. Oh, I don’t mind; go on. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. Charge them generally to give up playing the fool, quarrelling +over metaphysics, tricking each other with horn and crocodile puzzles +[Footnote: See <i>Puzzles</i> in Notes.] and teaching people to waste wit on +such absurdities. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pol</i>. Oh, but if I say anything against their wisdom, they will call me +an ignorant blockhead. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. Then tell them from me to go to the devil. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pol</i>. Very well; rely upon me. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. And then, my most obliging of Polluxes, there is this for the +rich:—O vain fools, why hoard gold? why all these pains over interest +sums and the adding of hundred to hundred, when you must shortly come to us +with nothing beyond the dead-penny? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pol</i>. They shall have their message too. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. Ah, and a word to the handsome and strong; Megillus of Corinth, +and Damoxenus the wrestler will do. Inform them that auburn locks, eyes bright +or black, rosy cheeks, are as little in fashion here as tense muscles or mighty +shoulders; man and man are as like as two peas, tell them, when it comes to +bare skull and no beauty. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pol</i>. That is to the handsome and strong; yes, I can manage that. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. Yes, my Spartan, and here is for the poor. There are a great many +of them, very sorry for themselves and resentful of their helplessness. Tell +them to dry their tears and cease their cries; explain to them that here one +man is as good as another, and they will find those who were rich on earth no +better than themselves. As for your Spartans, you will not mind scolding them, +from me, upon their present degeneracy? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pol</i>. No, no, Diogenes; leave Sparta alone; that is going too far; your +other commissions I will execute. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. Oh, well, let them off, if you care about it; but tell all the +others what I said. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p> +<i>Before Pluto: Croesus, Midas, and Sardanapalus v. Menippus</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cr</i>. Pluto, we can stand this snarling Cynic no longer in our +neighbourhood; either you must transfer him to other quarters, or we are going +to migrate. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Why, what harm does he do to your ghostly community? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cr</i>. Midas here, and Sardanapalus and I, can never get in a good cry over +the old days of gold and luxury and treasure, but he must be laughing at us, +and calling us rude names; ‘slaves’ and ‘garbage,’ he says we are. And then he +sings; and that throws us out.—In short, he is a nuisance. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Menippus, what’s this I hear? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. All perfectly true, Pluto. I detest these abject rascals! Not +content with having lived the abominable lives they did, they keep on talking +about it now they are dead, and harping on the good old days. I take a positive +pleasure in annoying them. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Yes, but you mustn’t. They have had terrible losses; they feel it +deeply. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Pluto! you are not going to lend <i>your</i> countenance to these +whimpering fools? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. It isn’t that: but I won’t have you quarrelling. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Well, you scum of your respective nations, let there be no +misunderstanding; I am going on just the same. Wherever you are, there shall I +be also; worrying, jeering, singing you down. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cr</i>. Presumption! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Not a bit of it. Yours was the presumption, when you expected men to +fall down before you, when you trampled on men’s liberty, and forgot there was +such a thing as death. Now comes the weeping and gnashing of teeth: for all is +lost! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cr</i>. Lost! Ah God! My treasure-heaps— +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mid</i>. My gold— +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sar</i>. My little comforts— +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. That’s right: stick to it! You do the whining, and I’ll chime in +with a string of GNOTHI-SAUTONS, best of accompaniments. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p> +<i>Menippus. Amphilochus. Trophonius</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Now I wonder how it is that you two dead men have been honoured with +temples and taken for prophets; those silly mortals imagine you are Gods. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Amp</i>. How can we help it, if they are fools enough to have such fancies +about the dead? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Ah, they would never have had them, though, if you had not been +charlatans in your lifetime, and pretended to know the future and be able to +foretell it to your clients. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tro</i>. Well, Menippus, Amphilochus can take his own line, if he likes; as +for me, I <i>am</i> a Hero, and <i>do</i> give oracles to any one who comes +down to me. It is pretty clear you were never at Lebadea, or you would not be +so incredulous. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. What do you mean? I must go to Lebadea, swaddle myself up in absurd +linen, take a cake in my hand, and crawl through a narrow passage into a cave, +before I could tell that you are a dead man, with nothing but knavery to +differentiate you from the rest of us? Now, on your seer-ship, what <i>is</i> a +Hero? I am sure <i>I</i> don’t know. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tro</i>. He is half God, and half man. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. So what is neither man (as you imply) nor God, is both at once? +Well, at present what has become of your diviner half? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tro</i>. He gives oracles in Boeotia. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. What you may mean is quite beyond me; the one thing I know for +certain is that you are dead—the whole of you. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<p> +<i>Hermes. Charon</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Ferryman, what do you say to settling up accounts? It will prevent +any unpleasantness later on. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. Very good. It does save trouble to get these things straight. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. One anchor, to your order, five shillings. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. That is a lot of money. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. So help me Pluto, it is what I had to pay. One rowlock-strap, +fourpence. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. Five and four; put that down. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Then there was a needle, for mending the sail; ten-pence. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. Down with it. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Caulking-wax; nails; and cord for the brace. Two shillings the lot. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. They were worth the money. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. That’s all; unless I have forgotten anything. When will you pay it? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. I can’t just now, Hermes; we shall have a war or a plague presently, +and then the passengers will come shoaling in, and I shall be able to make a +little by jobbing the fares. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. So for the present I have nothing to do but sit down, and pray for +the worst, as my only chance of getting paid? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. There is nothing else for it;—very little business doing just +now, as you see, owing to the peace. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. That is just as well, though it does keep me waiting for my money. +After all, though, Charon, in old days men were men; you remember the state +they used to come down in,—all blood and wounds generally. Nowadays, a +man is poisoned by his slave or his wife; or gets dropsy from overfeeding; a +pale, spiritless lot, nothing like the men of old. Most of them seem to meet +their end in some plot that has money for its object. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. Ah; money is in great request. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Yes; you can’t blame me if I am somewhat urgent for payment. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +<h4>V</h4> + +<p> +<i>Pluto. Hermes</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. You know that old, old fellow, Eucrates the millionaire—no +children, but a few thousand would-be heirs? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Yes—lives at Sicyon. Well? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Well, Hermes, he is ninety now; let him live as much longer, please; +I should like it to be more still, if possible; and bring me down his toadies +one by one, that young Charinus, Damon, and the rest of them. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. It would seem so strange, wouldn’t it? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. On the contrary, it would be ideal justice. What business have they +to pray for his death, or pretend to his money? they are no relations. The most +abominable thing about it is that they vary these prayers with every public +attention; when he is ill, every one knows what they are after, and yet they +vow offerings if he recovers; talk of versatility! So let him be immortal, and +bring them away before him with their mouths still open for the fruit that +never drops. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Well, they <i>are</i> rascals, and it would be a comic ending. He +leads them a pretty life too, on hope gruel; he always looks more dead than +alive, but he is tougher than a young man. They have divided up the inheritance +among them, and feed on imaginary bliss. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Just so; now he is to throw off his years like Iolaus, and +rejuvenate, while they in the middle of their hopes find themselves here with +their dream-wealth left behind them. Nothing like making the punishment fit the +crime. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Say no more, Pluto; I will fetch you them one after another; seven +of them, is it? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Down with them; and he shall change from an old man to a blooming +youth, and attend their funerals. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +<h4>VI</h4> + +<p> +<i>Terpsion. Pluto</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ter</i>. Now is this fair, Pluto,—that I should die at the age of +thirty, and that old Thucritus go on living past ninety? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Nothing could be fairer. Thucritus lives and is in no hurry for his +neighbours to die; whereas you always had some design against him; you were +waiting to step into his shoes. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ter</i>. Well, an old man like that is past getting any enjoyment out of his +money; he ought to die, and make room for younger men. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. This is a novel principle: the man who can no longer derive pleasure +from his money is to die!—Fate and Nature have ordered it otherwise. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ter</i>. Then they have ordered it wrongly. There ought to be a proper +sequence according to seniority. Things are turned upside down, if an old man +is to go on living with only three teeth in his head, half blind, tottering +about with a pair of slaves on each side to hold him up, drivelling and +rheumy-eyed, having no joy of life, a living tomb, the derision of his +juniors,—and young men are to die in the prime of their strength and +beauty. ’Tis contrary to nature. At any rate the young men have a right to know +when the old are going to die, so that they may not throw away their attentions +on them for nothing, as is sometimes the case. The present arrangement is a +putting of the cart before the horse. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. There is a great deal more sound sense in it than you suppose, +Terpsion. Besides, what right have you young fellows got to be prying after +other men’s goods, and thrusting yourselves upon your childless elders? You +look rather foolish, when you get buried first; it tickles people immensely; +the more fervent your prayers for the death of your aged friend, the greater is +the general exultation when you precede him. It has become quite a profession +lately, this amorous devotion to old men and women,—childless, of course; +children destroy the illusion. By the way though, some of the beloved objects +see through your dirty motives well enough by now; they have children, but they +pretend to hate them, and so have lovers all the same. When their wills come to +be read, their faithful bodyguard is not included: nature asserts itself, the +children get their rights, and the lovers realize, with gnashings of teeth, +that they have been taken in. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ter</i>. Too true! The luxuries that Thucritus has enjoyed at my expense! He +always looked as if he were at the point of death. I never went to see him, but +he would groan and squeak like a chicken barely out of the shell: I considered +that he might step into his coffin at any moment, and heaped gift upon gift, +for fear of being outdone in generosity by my rivals; I passed anxious, +sleepless nights, reckoning and arranging all; ’twas this, the sleeplessness +and the anxiety, that brought me to my death. And he swallows my bait whole, +and attends my funeral chuckling. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Well done, Thucritus! Long may you live to enjoy your +wealth,—and your joke at the youngsters’ expense; many a toady may you +send hither before your own time comes! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ter</i>. Now I think of it, it <i>would</i> be a satisfaction if Charoeades +were to die before him. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Charoeades! My dear Terpsion, Phido, Melanthus,—every one of +them will be here before Thucritus,—all victims of this same anxiety! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ter</i>. That is as it should be. Hold on, Thucritus! +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +<h4>VII</h4> + +<p> +<i>Zenophantus. Callidemides</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ze</i>. Ah, Callidemides, and how did <i>you</i> come by your end? As for +me, I was free of Dinias’s table, and there died of a surfeit; but that is +stale news; you were there, of course. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cal</i>. Yes, I was. Now there was an element of surprise about <i>my</i> +fate. I suppose you know that old Ptoeodorus? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ze</i>. The rich man with no children, to whom you gave most of your +company? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cal</i>. That is the man; he had promised to leave me his heir, and I used +to show my appreciation. However, it went on such a time; Tithonus was a +juvenile to him; so I found a short cut to my property. I bought a potion, and +agreed with the butler that next time his master called for wine (he is a +pretty stiff drinker) he should have this ready in a cup and present it; and I +was pledged to reward the man with his freedom. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ze</i>. And what happened? this is interesting. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cal</i>. When we came from bath, the young fellow had two cups ready, one +with the poison for Ptoeodorus, and the other for me; but by some blunder he +handed me the poisoned cup, and Ptoeodorus the plain; and behold, before he had +done drinking, there was I sprawling on the ground, a vicarious corpse! Why are +you laughing so, Zenophantus? I am your friend; such mirth is unseemly. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ze</i>. Well, it was such a humorous exit. And how did the old man behave? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cal</i>. He was dreadfully distressed for the moment; then he saw, I +suppose, and laughed as much as you over the butler’s trick. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ze</i>. Ah, short cuts are no better for you than for other people, you see; +the high road would have been safer, if not quite so quick. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +<h4>VIII</h4> + +<p> +<i>Cnemon. Damnippus</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cne</i>. Why, ’tis the proverb fulfilled! The fawn hath taken the lion. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dam</i>. What’s the matter, Cnemon? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cne</i>. The matter! I have been fooled, miserably fooled. I have passed +over all whom I should have liked to make my heirs, and left my money to the +wrong man. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dam</i>. How was that? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cne</i>. I had been speculating on the death of Hermolaus, the millionaire. +He had no children, and my attentions had been well received by him. I thought +it would be a good idea to let him know that I had made my will in his favour, +on the chance of its exciting his emulation. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dam</i>. Yes; and Hermolaus? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cne</i>. What <i>his</i> will was, I don’t know. I died suddenly,—the +roof came down about my ears; and now Hermolaus is my heir. The pike has +swallowed hook and bait. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dam</i>. And your anglership into the bargain. The pit that you digged for +other…. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cue</i>. That’s about the truth of the matter, confound it. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +<h4>IX</h4> + +<p> +<i>Simylus. Polystratus</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Si</i>. So here you are at last, Polystratus; you must be something very +like a centenarian. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pol</i>. Ninety-eight. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Si</i>. And what sort of a life have you had of it, these thirty years? you +were about seventy when I died. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pol</i>. Delightful, though you may find it hard to believe. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Si</i>. It is surprising that you could have any joy of your life—old, +weak, and childless, moreover. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pol</i>. In the first place, I could do just what I liked; there were still +plenty of handsome boys and dainty women; perfumes were sweet, wine kept its +bouquet, Sicilian feasts were nothing to mine. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Si</i>. This <i>is</i> a change, to be sure; you were very economical in my +day. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pol</i>. Ah, but, my simple friend, these good things were +presents—came in streams. From dawn my doors were thronged with visitors, +and in the day it was a procession of the fairest gifts of earth. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Si</i>. Why, you must have seized the crown after my death. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pol</i>. Oh no, it was only that I inspired a number of tender passions. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Si</i>. Tender passions, indeed! what, you, an old man with hardly a tooth +left in your head! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pol</i>. Certainly; the first of our townsmen were in love with me. Such as +you see me, old, bald, blear-eyed, rheumy, they delighted to do me honour; +happy was the man on whom my glance rested a moment. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Si</i>. Well, then, you had some adventure like Phaon’s, when he rowed +Aphrodite across from Chios; your God granted your prayer and made you young +and fair and lovely again. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pol</i>. No, no; I was as you see me, and I was the object of all desire. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Si</i>. Oh, I give it up. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pol</i>. Why, I should have thought you knew the violent passion for old men +who have plenty of money and no children. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Si</i>. Ah, now I comprehend your beauty, old fellow; it was the +<i>Golden</i> Aphrodite bestowed it. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pol</i>. I assure you, Simylus, I had a good deal of satisfaction out of my +lovers; they idolized me, almost. Often I would be coy and shut some of them +out. Such rivalries! such jealous emulations! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Si</i>. And how did you dispose of your fortune in the end? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pol</i>. I gave each an express promise to make him my heir; he believed, +and treated me to more attentions than ever; meanwhile I had another genuine +will, which was the one I left, with a message to them all to go hang. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Si</i>. Who was the heir by this one? one of your relations, I suppose. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pol</i>. Not likely; it was a handsome young Phrygian I had lately bought. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Si</i>. Age? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pol</i>. About twenty. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Si</i>. Ah, I can guess his office. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pol</i>. Well, you know, he deserved the inheritance much better than they +did; he was a barbarian and a rascal; but by this time he has the best of +society at his beck. So he inherited; and now he is one of the aristocracy; his +smooth chin and his foreign accent are no bars to his being called nobler than +Codrus, handsomer than Nireus, wiser than Odysseus. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Si</i>. Well, <i>I</i> don’t mind; let him be Emperor of Greece, if he +likes, so long as he keeps the property away from that other crew. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +<h4>X</h4> + +<p> +<i>Charon. Hermes. Various Shades</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. I’ll tell you how things stand. Our craft, as you see, is small, and +leaky, and three-parts rotten; a single lurch, and she will capsize without +more ado. And here are all you passengers, each with his luggage. If you come +on board like that, I am afraid you may have cause to repent it; especially +those who have not learnt to swim. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Then how are we to make a trip of it? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. I’ll tell you. They must leave all this nonsense behind them on +shore, and come aboard in their skins. As it is, there will be no room to +spare. And in future, Hermes, mind you admit no one till he has cleared himself +of encumbrances, as I say. Stand by the gangway, and keep an eye on them, and +make them strip before you let them pass. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Very good. Well, Number One, who are you? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Men</i>. Menippus. Here are my wallet and staff; overboard with them. I had +the sense not to bring my cloak. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Pass on, Menippus; you’re a good fellow; you shall have the seat of +honour, up by the pilot, where you can see every one.—Here is a handsome +person; who is he? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Char</i>. Charmoleos of Megara; the irresistible, whose kiss was worth a +thousand pounds. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. That beauty must come off,—lips, kisses, and all; the flowing +locks, the blushing cheeks, the skin entire. That’s right. Now we’re in better +trim;—you may pass on.—And who is the stunning gentleman in the +purple and the diadem? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Lam</i>. I am Lampichus, tyrant of Gela. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. And what is all this splendour doing here, Lampichus? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Lam</i>. How! would you have a tyrant come hither stripped? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. A tyrant! That would be too much to expect. But with a shade we +must insist. Off with these things. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Lam</i>. There, then: away goes my wealth. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Pomp must go too, and pride; we shall be overfreighted else. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Lam</i>. At least let me keep my diadem and robes. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. No, no; off they come! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Lam</i>. Well? That is all, as you see for yourself. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. There is something more yet: cruelty, folly, insolence, hatred. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Lam</i>. There then: I am bare. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Pass on.—And who may you be, my bulky friend? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dam</i>. Damasias the athlete. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. To be sure; many is the time I have seen you in the gymnasium. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dam</i>. You have. Well, I have peeled; let me pass. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Peeled! my dear sir, what, with all this fleshy encumbrance? Come, +off with it; we should go to the bottom if you put one foot aboard. And those +crowns, those victories, remove them. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dam</i>. There; no mistake about it this time; I am as light as any shade +among them. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. That’s more the kind of thing. On with you.—Crato, you can +take off that wealth and luxury and effeminacy; and we can’t have that funeral +pomp here, nor those ancestral glories either; down with your rank and +reputation, and any votes of thanks or inscriptions you have about you; and you +need not tell us what size your tomb was; remarks of that kind come heavy. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cra</i>. Well, if I must, I must; there’s no help for it. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Hullo! in full armour? What does this mean? and why this trophy? +</p> + +<p> +<i>A General</i>. I am a great conqueror; a valiant warrior; my country’s +pride. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. The trophy may stop behind; we are at peace; there is no demand for +arms.—Whom have we here? whose is this knitted brow, this flowing beard? +’Tis some reverend sage, if outside goes for anything; he mutters; he is +wrapped in meditation. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Men</i>. That’s a philosopher, Hermes; and an impudent quack not the +bargain. Have him out of that cloak; you will find something to amuse you +underneath it. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Off with your clothes first; and then we will see to the rest. My +goodness, what a bundle: quackery, ignorance, quarrelsomeness, vainglory; idle +questionings, prickly arguments, intricate conceptions; humbug and gammon and +wishy-washy hair-splittings without end; and hullo! why here’s avarice, and +self-indulgence, and impudence! luxury, effeminacy and peevishness!—Yes, +I see them all; you need not try to hide them. Away with falsehood and swagger +and superciliousness; why, the three-decker is not built that would hold you +with all this luggage. +</p> + +<p> +<i>A Philosopher</i>. I resign them all, since such is your bidding. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Men</i>. Have his beard off too, Hermes; only look what a ponderous bush of +a thing! There’s a good five pounds’ weight there. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Yes; the beard must go. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Phil</i>. And who shall shave me? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Menippus here shall take it off with the carpenter’s axe; the +gangway will serve for a block. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Men</i>. Oh, can’t I have a saw, Hermes? It would be much better fun. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. The axe must serve.—Shrewdly chopped!—Why, you look +more like a man and less like a goat already. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Men</i>. A little off the eyebrows? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Why, certainly; he has trained them up all over his forehead, for +reasons best known to himself.—Worm! what, snivelling? afraid of death? +Oh, get on board with you. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Men</i>. He has still got the biggest thumper of all under his arm. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. What’s that? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Men</i>. Flattery; many is the good turn that has done him. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Phil</i>. Oh, all right, Menippus; suppose you leave your independence +behind you, and your plain—speaking, and your indifference, and your high +spirit, and your jests!—No one else here has a jest about him. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Don’t you, Menippus! you stick to them; useful commodities, these, +on shipboard; light and handy.—You rhetorician there, with your +verbosities and your barbarisms, your antitheses and balances and periods, off +with the whole pack of them. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Rhet</i>. Away they go. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. All’s ready. Loose the cable, and pull in the gangway; haul up the +anchor; spread all sail; and, pilot, look to your helm. Good luck to our +voyage!—What are you all whining about, you fools? You philosopher, late +of the beard,—you’re as bad as any of them. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Phil</i>. Ah, Hermes: I had thought that the soul was immortal. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Men</i>. He lies: that is not the cause of his distress. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. What is it, then? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Men</i>. He knows that he will never have a good dinner again; never sneak +about at night with his cloak over his head, going the round of the brothels; +never spend his mornings in fooling boys out of their money, under the pretext +of teaching them wisdom. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Phil</i>. And pray are <i>you</i> content to be dead? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Men</i>. It may be presumed so, as I sought death of my own accord.—By +the way, I surely heard a noise, as if people were shouting on the earth? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. You did; and from more than one quarter.—There are people +running in a body to the Town-hall, exulting over the death of Lampichus; the +women have got hold of his wife; his infant children fare no better,—the +boys are giving them handsome pelting. Then again you hear the applause that +greets the orator Diophantus, as he pronounces the funeral oration of our +friend Crato. Ah yes, and that’s Damasias’s mother, with her women, striking up +a dirge. No one has tear for you, Menippus; your remains are left in peace. +Privileged person! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Men</i>. Wait a bit: before long you will hear the mournful howl of dogs, +and the beating of crows’ wings, as they gather to perform my funeral rites. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. I like your spirit.—However, here we are in port. Away with +you all to the judgement-seat; it is straight ahead. The ferryman and I must go +back for a fresh load. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Men</i>. Good voyage to you, Hermes.—Let us be getting on; what are +you all waiting for? We have got to face the judge, sooner or later; and by all +accounts his sentences are no joke; wheels, rocks, vultures are mentioned. +Every detail of our lives will now come to light! +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +<h4>XI</h4> + +<p> +<i>Crates. Diogenes</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cra</i>. Did you know Moerichus of Corinth, Diogenes? A shipowner, rolling +in money, with a cousin called Aristeas, nearly as rich. He had a Homeric +quotation:—Wilt thou heave me? shall I heave thee? +</p> + +<p> +[Footnote: Homer, Il. xxiii. 724. When Ajax and Odysseus have wrestled for some +time without either’s producing any impression, and the spectators are getting +tired of it, the former proposes a change in tactics. “Let us hoist—try +you with me or I with you.” The idea evidently is that each in turn is to offer +only a passive resistance, and let his adversary try to fling him thus.’ +<i>Leaf</i>.] +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. What was the point of it? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cra</i>. Why, the cousins were of equal age, expected to succeed to each +other’s wealth, and behaved accordingly. They published their wills, each +naming the other sole heir in case of his own prior decease. So it stood in +black and white, and they vied with each other in showing that deference which +the relation demands. All the prophets, astrologers, and Chaldean +dream-interpreters alike, and Apollo himself for that matter, held different +views at different times about the winner; the thousands seemed to incline now +to Aristeas’s side, now to Moerichus’s. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. And how did it end? I am quite curious. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cra</i>. They both died on the same day, and the properties passed to +Eunomius and Thrasycles, two relations who had never had a presentiment of it. +They had been crossing from Sicyon to Cirrha, when they were taken aback by a +squall from the north-west, and capsized in mid-channel. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. Cleverly done. Now, when we were alive, we never had such designs +on one another. I never prayed for Antisthenes’s death, with a view to +inheriting his staff—though it was an extremely serviceable one, which he +had cut himself from a wild olive; and I do not credit you, Crates, with ever +having had an eye to my succession; it included the tub, and a wallet with two +pints of lupines in it. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cra</i>. Why, no; these things were superfluities to me—and to +yourself, indeed. The real necessities you inherited from Antisthenes, and I +from you; and in those necessities was more grandeur and majesty than in the +Persian Empire. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. You allude to—- +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cra</i>. Wisdom, independence, truth, frankness, freedom. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. To be sure; now I think of it, I did inherit all this from +Antisthenes, and left it to you with some addition. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cra</i>. Others, however, were not interested in such property; no one paid +us the attentions of an expectant heir; they all had their eyes on gold, +instead. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. Of course; they had no receptacle for such things as we could +give; luxury had made them so leaky—as full of holes as a worn-out purse. +Put wisdom, frankness, or truth into them, and it would have dropped out; the +bottom of the bag would have let them through, like the perforated cask into +which those poor Danaids are always pouring. Gold, on the other hand, they +could grip with tooth or nail or somehow. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cra</i>. Result: our wealth will still be ours down here; while they will +arrive with no more than one penny, and even that must be left with the +ferryman. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +<h4>XII</h4> + +<p> +<i>Alexander. Hannibal. Minos. Scipio</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Alex</i>. Libyan, I claim precedence of you. I am the better man. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Han</i>. Pardon me. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Alex</i>. Then let Minos decide. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mi</i>. Who are you both? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Alex</i>. This is Hannibal, the Carthaginian: I am Alexander, the son of +Philip. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mi</i>. Bless me, a distinguished pair! And what is the quarrel about? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Alex</i>. It is a question of precedence. He says he is the better general: +and I maintain that neither Hannibal nor (I might almost add) any of my +predecessors was my equal in strategy; all the world knows that. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mi</i>. Well, you shall each have your say in turn: the Libyan first. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Han</i>. Fortunately for me, Minos, I have mastered Greek since I have been +here; so that my adversary will not have even that advantage of me. Now I hold +that the highest praise is due to those who have won their way to greatness +from obscurity; who have clothed themselves in power, and shown themselves fit +for dominion. I myself entered Spain with a handful of men, took service under +my brother, and was found worthy of the supreme command. I conquered the +Celtiberians, subdued Western Gaul, crossed the Alps, overran the valley of the +Po, sacked town after town, made myself master of the plains, approached the +bulwarks of the capital, and in one day slew such a host, that their +finger-rings were measured by bushels, and the rivers were bridged by their +bodies. And this I did, though I had never been called a son of Ammon; I never +pretended to be a god, never related visions of my mother; I made no secret of +the fact that I was mere flesh and blood. My rivals were the ablest generals in +the world, commanding the best soldiers in the world; I warred not with Medes +or Assyrians, who fly before they are pursued, and yield the victory to him +that dares take it. +</p> + +<p> +Alexander, on the other hand, in increasing and extending as he did the +dominion which he had inherited from his father, was but following the impetus +given to him by Fortune. And this conqueror had no sooner crushed his puny +adversary by the victories of Issus and Arbela, than he forsook the traditions +of his country, and lived the life of a Persian; accepting the prostrations of +his subjects, assassinating his friends at his own table, or handing them over +to the executioner. I in my command respected the freedom of my country, +delayed not to obey her summons, when the enemy with their huge armament +invaded Libya, laid aside the privileges of my office, and submitted to my +sentence without a murmur. Yet I was a barbarian all unskilled in Greek +culture; I could not recite Homer, nor had I enjoyed the advantages of +Aristotle’s instruction; I had to make a shift with such qualities as were mine +by nature.—It is on these grounds that I claim the pre-eminence. My rival +has indeed all the lustre that attaches to the wearing of a diadem, and—I +know not—for Macedonians such things may have charms: but I cannot think +that this circumstance constitutes a higher claim than the courage and genius +of one who owed nothing to Fortune, and everything to his own resolution. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mi</i>. Not bad, for a Libyan.—Well, Alexander, what do you say to +that? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Alex</i>. Silence, Minos, would be the best answer to such confident +self-assertion. The tongue of Fame will suffice of itself to convince you that +I was a great prince, and my opponent a petty adventurer. But I would have you +consider the distance between us. Called to the throne while I was yet a boy, I +quelled the disorders of my kingdom, and avenged my father’s murder. By the +destruction of Thebes, I inspired the Greeks with such awe, that they appointed +me their commander-in-chief; and from that moment, scorning to confine myself +to the kingdom that I inherited from my father, I extended my gaze over the +entire face of the earth, and thought it shame if I should govern less than the +whole. With a small force I invaded Asia, gained a great victory on the +Granicus, took Lydia, lonia, Phrygia,—in short, subdued all that was +within my reach, before I commenced my march for Issus, where Darius was +waiting for me at the head of his myriads. You know the sequel: yourselves can +best say what was the number of the dead whom on one day I dispatched hither. +The ferryman tells me that his boat would not hold them; most of them had to +come across on rafts of their own construction. In these enterprises, I was +ever at the head of my troops, ever courted danger. To say nothing of Tyre and +Arbela, I penetrated into India, and carried my empire to the shores of Ocean; +I captured elephants; I conquered Porus; I crossed the Tanais, and worsted the +Scythians—no mean enemies—in a tremendous cavalry engagement. I +heaped benefits upon my friends: I made my enemies taste my resentment. If men +took me for a god, I cannot blame them; the vastness of my undertakings might +excuse such a belief. But to conclude. I died a king: Hannibal, a fugitive at +the court of the Bithynian Prusias—fitting end for villany and cruelty. +Of his Italian victories I say nothing; they were the fruit not of honest +legitimate warfare, but of treachery, craft, and dissimulation. He taunts me +with self-indulgence: my illustrious friend has surely forgotten the pleasant +time he spent in Capua among the ladies, while the precious moments fleeted by. +Had I not scorned the Western world, and turned my attention to the East, what +would it have cost me to make the bloodless conquest of Italy, and Libya, and +all, as far West as Gades? But nations that already cowered beneath a master +were unworthy of my sword.—I have finished, Minos, and await your +decision; of the many arguments I might have used, these shall suffice. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sci</i>. First, Minos, let me speak. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mi</i>. And who are you, friend? and where do you come from? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sci</i>. I am Scipio, the Roman general, who destroyed Carthage, and gained +great victories over the Libyans. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mi</i>. Well, and what have you to say? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sci</i>. That Alexander is my superior, and I am Hannibal’s, having defeated +him, and driven him to ignominious flight. What impudence is this, to contend +with Alexander, to whom I, your conqueror, would not presume to compare myself! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mi</i>. Honestly spoken, Scipio, on my word! Very well, then: Alexander +comes first, and you next; and I think we must say Hannibal third. And a very +creditable third, too. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +<h4>XIII</h4> + +<p> +<i>Diogenes. Alexander</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. Dear me, Alexander, <i>you</i> dead like the rest of us? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Alex</i>. As you see, sir; is there anything extraordinary in a mortal’s +dying? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. So Ammon lied when he said you were his son; you were Philip’s +after all. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Alex</i>. Apparently; if I had been Ammon’s, I should not have died. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. Strange! there were tales of the same order about Olympias too. A +serpent visited her, and was seen in her bed; we were given to understand that +that was how you came into the world, and Philip made a mistake when he took +you for his. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Alex</i>. Yes, I was told all that myself; however, I know now that my +mother’s and the Ammon stories were all moonshine. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. Their lies were of some practical value to you, though; your +divinity brought a good many people to their knees. But now, whom did you leave +your great empire to? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Alex</i>. Diogenes, I cannot tell you. I had no time to leave any directions +about it, beyond just giving Perdiccas my ring as I died. Why are you laughing? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. Oh, I was only thinking of the Greeks’ behaviour; directly you +succeeded, how they flattered you! their elected patron, generalissimo against +the barbarian; one of the twelve Gods according to some; temples built and +sacrifices offered to the Serpent’s son! If I may ask, where did your +Macedonians bury you? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Alex</i>. I have lain in Babylon a full month to-day; and Ptolemy of the +Guards is pledged, as soon as he can get a moment’s respite from present +disturbances, to take and bury me in Egypt, there to be reckoned among the +Gods. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. I have some reason to laugh, you see; still nursing vain hopes of +developing into an Osiris or Anubis! Pray, your Godhead, put these expectations +from you; none may re-ascend who has once sailed the lake and penetrated our +entrance; Aeacus is watchful, and Cerberus an awkward customer. But there is +one thing I wish you would tell me: how do you like thinking over all the +earthly bliss you left to come here—your guards and armour-bearers and +lieutenant-governors, your heaps of gold and adoring peoples, Babylon and +Bactria, your huge elephants, your honour and glory, those conspicuous drives +with white-cinctured locks and clasped purple cloak? does the thought of them +<i>hurt</i>? What, crying? silly fellow! did not your wise Aristotle include in +his instructions any hint of the insecurity of fortune’s favours? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Alex</i>. Wise? call him the craftiest of all flatterers. Allow me to know a +little more than other people about Aristotle; his requests and his letters +came to <i>my</i> address; <i>I</i> know how he profited by my passion for +culture; how he would toady and compliment me, to be sure! now it was my +beauty—that too is included under The Good; now it was my deeds and my +money; for money too he called a Good—he meant that he was not going to +be ashamed of taking it. Ah, Diogenes, an impostor; and a past master at it +too. For me, the result of his wisdom is that I am distressed for the things +you catalogued just now, as if I had lost in them the chief Goods. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. Wouldst know thy course? I will prescribe for your distress. Our +flora, unfortunately, does not include hellebore; but you take plenty of +Lethe-water—good, deep, repeated draughts; that will relieve your +distress over the Aristotelian Goods. Quick; here are Clitus, Callisthenes, and +a lot of others making for you; they mean to tear you in pieces and pay you +out. Here, go the opposite way; and remember, repeated draughts. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +<h4>XIV</h4> + +<p> +<i>Philip. Alexander</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Phil</i>. You cannot deny that you are my son this time, Alexander; you +would not have died if you had been Ammon’s. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Alex</i>. I knew all the time that you, Philip, son of Amyntas, were my +father. I only accepted the statement of the oracle because I thought it was +good policy. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Phil</i>. What, to suffer yourself to be fooled by lying priests? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Alex</i>. No, but it had an awe-inspiring effect upon the barbarians. When +they thought they had a God to deal with, they gave up the struggle; which made +their conquest a simple matter. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Phil</i>. And whom did <i>you</i> ever conquer that was worth conquering? +Your adversaries were ever timid creatures, with their bows and their targets +and their wicker shields. It was other work conquering the Greeks: Boeotians, +Phocians, Athenians; Arcadian hoplites, Thessalian cavalry, javelin-men from +Elis, peltasts of Mantinea; Thracians, Illyrians, Paeonians; to subdue these +was something. But for gold-laced womanish Medes and Persians and +Chaldaeans,—why, it had been done before: did you never hear of the +expedition of the Ten Thousand under Clearchus? and how the enemy would not +even come to blows with them, but ran away before they were within bow-shot? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Alex</i>. Still, there were the Scythians, father, and the Indian elephants; +they were no joke. And <i>my</i> conquests were not gained by dissension or +treachery; I broke no oath, no promise, nor ever purchased victory at the +expense of honour. As to the Greeks, most of them joined me without a struggle; +and I dare say you have heard how I handled Thebes. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Phil</i>. I know all about that; I had it from Clitus, whom you ran through +the body, in the middle of dinner, because he presumed to mention my +achievements in the same breath with yours. They tell me too that you took to +aping the manners of your conquered Medes; abandoned the Macedonian cloak in +favour of the <i>candys</i>, assumed the upright tiara, and exacted oriental +prostrations from Macedonian freemen! This is delicious. As to your brilliant +matches, and your beloved Hephaestion, and your scholars in lions’ +cages,—the less said the better. I have only heard one thing to your +credit: you respected the person of Darius’s beautiful wife, and you provided +for his mother and daughters; there you acted like a king. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Alex</i>. And have you nothing to say of my adventurous spirit, father, when +I was the first to leap down within the ramparts of Oxydracae, and was covered +with wounds? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Phil</i>. Not a word. Not that it is a bad thing, in my opinion, for a king +to get wounded occasionally, and to face danger at the head of his troops: but +this was the last thing that you were called upon to do. You were passing for a +God; and your being wounded, and carried off the field on a litter, bleeding +and groaning, could only excite the ridicule of the spectators: Ammon stood +convicted of quackery, his oracle of falsehood, his priests of flattery. The +son of Zeus in a swoon, requiring medical assistance! who could help laughing +at the sight? And now that you have died, can you doubt that many a jest is +being cracked on the subject of your divinity, as men contemplate the God’s +corpse laid out for burial, and already going the way of all flesh? Besides, +your achievements lose half their credit from this very circumstance which you +say was so useful in facilitating your conquests: nothing you did could come up +to your divine reputation. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Alex</i>. The world thinks otherwise. I am ranked with Heracles and +Dionysus; and, for that matter, I took Aornos, which was more than either of +them could do. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Phil</i>. There spoke the son of Ammon. Heracles and Dionysus, indeed! You +ought to be ashamed of yourself, Alexander; when will you learn to drop that +bombast, and know yourself for the shade that you are? +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +<h4>XV</h4> + +<p> +<i>Antilochus. Achilles</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ant</i>. Achilles, what you were saying to Odysseus the other day about +death was very poor-spirited; I should have expected better things from a pupil +of Chiron and Phoenix. I was listening; you said you would rather be a servant +on earth to some poor hind ‘of scanty livelihood possessed,’ than king of all +the dead. Such sentiments might have been very well in the mouth of a +poor-spirited cowardly Phrygian, dishonourably in love with life: for the son +of Peleus, boldest of all Heroes, so to vilify himself, is a disgrace; it gives +the lie to all your life; you might have had a long inglorious reign in Phthia, +and your own choice was death and glory. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ach</i>. In those days, son of Nestor, I knew not this place; ignorant +whether of those two was the better, I esteemed that flicker of fame more than +life; now I see that it is worthless, let folk up there make what verses of it +they will. ’Tis dead level among the dead, Antilochus; strength and beauty are +no more; we welter all in the same gloom, one no better than another; the +shades of Trojans fear me not, Achaeans pay me no reverence; each may say what +he will; a man is a ghost, ‘or be he churl, or be he peer.’ It irks me; I would +fain be a servant, and alive. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ant</i>. But what help, Achilles? ’tis Nature’s decree that by all means all +die. We must abide by her law, and not fret at her commands. Consider too how +many of us are with you here; Odysseus comes ere long; how else? Is there not +comfort in the common fate? ’tis something not to suffer alone. See Heracles, +Meleager, and many another great one; they, methinks, would not choose return, +if one would send them up to serve poor destitute men. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ach</i>. Ay, your intent is friendly; but I know not, the thought of the +past life irks me—and each of you too, if I mistake not. And if you +confess it not, the worse for you, smothering your pain. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ant</i>. Not the worse, Achilles; the better; for we see that speech is +unavailing. Be silent, bear, endure—that is our resolve, lest such +longings bring mockery on us, as on you. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +<h4>XVI</h4> + +<p> +<i>Diogenes. Heracles</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. Surely this is Heracles I see? By his godhead, ’tis no other! The +bow, the club, the lion’s-skin, the giant frame; ’tis Heracles complete. Yet +how should this be?—a son of Zeus, and mortal? I say, Mighty Conqueror, +are you dead? I used to sacrifice to you in the other world; I understood you +were a God! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Thou didst well. Heracles is with the Gods in Heaven, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +And hath white-ankled Hebe there to wife. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +I am his phantom. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. His phantom! What then, can one half of any one be a God, and the +other half mortal? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Even so. The God still lives. ’Tis I, his counterpart, am dead. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. I see. You’re a dummy; he palms you off upon Pluto, instead of +coming himself. And here are you, enjoying <i>his</i> mortality! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. ’Tis somewhat as thou hast said. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. Well, but where were Aeacus’s keen eyes, that he let a counterfeit +Heracles pass under his very nose, and never knew the difference? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. I was made very like to him. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. I believe you! Very like indeed, no difference at all! Why, we may +find it’s the other way round, that you are Heracles, and the phantom is in +Heaven, married to Hebe! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Prating knave, no more of thy gibes; else thou shalt presently +learn how great a God calls me phantom. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. H’m. That bow looks as if it meant business. And yet,—what +have I to fear now? A man can die but once. Tell me, phantom,—by your +great Substance I adjure you—did you serve him in your present capacity +in the upper world? Perhaps you were one individual during your lives, the +separation taking place only at your deaths, when he, the God, soared +heavenwards, and you, the phantom, very properly made your appearance here? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Thy ribald questions were best unanswered. Yet thus much thou shalt +know.—All that was Amphitryon in Heracles, is dead; I am that mortal +part. The Zeus in him lives, and is with the Gods in Heaven. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. Ah, now I see! Alcmena had twins, you mean,—Heracles the son +of Zeus, and Heracles the son of Amphitryon? You were really half-bothers all +the time? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Fool! not so. We twain were one Heracles. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. It’s a little difficult to grasp, the two Heracleses packed into +one. I suppose you must have been like a sort of Centaur, man and God all mixed +together? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. And are not all thus composed of two elements,—the body and +the soul? What then should hinder the soul from being in Heaven, with Zeus who +gave it, and the mortal part—myself—among the dead? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. Yes, yes, my esteemed son of Amphitryon,—that would be all +very well if you were a body; but you see you are a phantom, you have no body. +At this rate we shall get three Heracleses. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. <i>Three</i>? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. Yes; look here. One in Heaven: one in Hades, that’s you, the +phantom: and lastly the body, which by this time has returned to dust. That +makes three. Can you think of a good father for number Three? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Impudent quibbler! And who art <i>thou</i>? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. I am Diogenes’s phantom, late of Sinope. But my original, I assure +you, is not ‘among th’ immortal Gods,’ but here among dead men; where he enjoys +the best of company, and snaps my fingers at Homer and all hair-splitting. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +<h4>XVII</h4> + +<p> +<i>Menippus. Tantalus</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. What are you crying out about, Tantalus? standing at the edge and +whining like that! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tan</i>. Ah, Menippus, I thirst, I perish! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. What, not enterprise enough to bend down to it, or scoop up some in +your palm? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tan</i>. It is no use bending down; the water shrinks away as soon as it +sees me coming. And if I do scoop it up and get it to my mouth, the outside of +my lips is hardly moist before it has managed to run through my fingers, and my +hand is as dry as ever. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. A very odd experience, that. But by the way, why do you want to +drink? you have no body—the part of you that was liable to hunger and +thirst is buried in Lydia somewhere; how can you, the spirit, hunger or thirst +any more? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tan</i>. Therein lies my punishment—soul thirsts as if it were body. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Well, let that pass, as you say thirst is your punishment. But why +do you mind it? are you afraid of <i>dying</i>, for want of drink? I do not +know of any second Hades; can you die to this one, and go further? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tan</i>. No, that is quite true. But you see this is part of the sentence: I +must long for drink, though I have no need of it. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. There is no meaning in that. There <i>is</i> a draught you need, +though; some neat hellebore is what <i>you</i> want; you are suffering from a +converse hydrophobia; you are not afraid of water, but you are of thirst. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tan</i>. I would as lief drink hellebore as anything, if I could but drink. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Never fear, Tantalus; neither you nor any other ghost will ever do +that; it is impossible, you see; just as well we have not all got a penal +thirst like you, with the water running away from us. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +<h4>XVIII</h4> + +<p> +<i>Menippus. Hermes</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Where are all the beauties, Hermes? Show me round; I am a new-comer. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. I am busy, Menippus. But look over there to your right, and you +will see Hyacinth, Narcissus, Nireus, Achilles, Tyro, Helen, Leda,—all +the beauties of old. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. I can only see bones, and bare skulls; most of them are exactly +alike. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Those bones, of which you seem to think so lightly, have been the +theme of admiring poets. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Well, but show me Helen; I shall never be able to make her out by +myself. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. This skull is Helen. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. And for this a thousand ships carried warriors from every part of +Greece; Greeks and barbarians were slain, and cities made desolate. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Ah, Menippus, you never saw the living Helen; or you would have +said with Homer, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Well might they suffer grievous years of toil<br/> + Who strove for such a prize.<br/> +</p> + +<p> +We look at withered flowers, whose dye is gone from them, and what can we call +them but unlovely things? Yet in the hour of their bloom these unlovely things +were things of beauty. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Strange, that the Greeks could not realize what it was for which +they laboured; how short-lived, how soon to fade. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. I have no time for moralizing. Choose your spot, where you will, +and lie down. I must go to fetch new dead. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +<h4>XIX</h4> + +<p> +<i>Aeacus. Protesilaus. Menelaus. Paris</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aea</i>. Now then, Protesilaus, what do you mean by assaulting and +throttling Helen? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pro</i>. Why, it was all her fault that I died, leaving my house half built, +and my bride a widow. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aea</i>. You should blame Menelaus, for taking you all to Troy after such a +light-o’-love. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pro</i>. That is true; he shall answer it. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. No, no, my dear sir; Paris surely is the man; he outraged all rights +in carrying off his host’s wife with him. <i>He</i> deserves throttling, if you +like, and not from you only, but from Greeks and barbarians as well, for all +the deaths he brought upon them. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pro</i>. Ah, now I have it. Here, you—you <i>Paris! you</i> shall not +escape my clutches. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pa</i>. Oh, come, sir, you will never wrong one of the same gentle craft as +yourself. Am I not a lover too, and a subject of your deity? against love you +know (with the best will in the world) how vain it is to strive; ’tis a spirit +that draws us whither it will. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pro</i>. There is reason in that. Oh, would that I had Love himself here in +these hands! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aea</i>. Permit me to charge myself with his defence. He does not absolutely +deny his responsibility for Paris’s love; but that for your death he refers to +yourself, Protesilaus. You forgot all about your bride, fell in love with fame, +and, directly the fleet touched the Troad, took that rash senseless leap, which +brought you first to shore and to death. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pro</i>. Now it is my turn to correct, Aeacus. The blame does not rest with +me, but with Fate; so was my thread spun from the beginning. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aea</i>. Exactly so; then why blame our good friends here? +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +<h4>XX</h4> + +<p> +<i>Menippus. Aeacus. Various Shades</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. In Pluto’s name, Aeacus, show me all the sights of Hades. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aea</i>. That would be rather an undertaking, Menippus. However, you shall +see the principal things. Cerberus here you know already, and the ferryman who +brought you over. And you saw the Styx on your way, and Pyriphlegethon. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Yes, and you are the gate-keeper; I know all that; and I have seen +the King and the Furies. But show me the men of ancient days, especially the +celebrities. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aea</i>. This is Agamemnon; this is Achilles; near him, Idomeneus; next +comes Odysseus; then Ajax, Diomede, and all the great Greeks. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Why, Homer, Homer, what is this? All your great heroes flung down +upon the earth, shapeless, undistinguishable; mere meaningless dust; +‘strengthless heads,’ and no mistake.—Who is this one, Aeacus? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aea</i>. That is Cyrus; and here is Croesus; beyond him Sardanapalus, and +beyond him again Midas. And yonder is Xerxes. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Ha! and it was before this creature that Greece trembled? this is +our yoker of Hellesponts, our designer of Athos-canals?—Croesus too! a +sad spectacle! As to Sardanapalus, I will lend him a box on the ear, with your +permission. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aea</i>. And crack his skull, poor dear! Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Then I must content myself with spitting in his ladyship’s face. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aea</i>. Would you like to see the philosophers? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. I should like it of all things. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aea</i>. First comes Pythagoras. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Good-day, Euphorbus, <i>alias</i> Apollo, <i>alias</i> what you +will. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Py</i>. Good-day, Menippus. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. What, no golden thigh nowadays? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Py</i>. Why, no. I wonder if there is anything to eat in that wallet of +yours? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Beans, friend; you don’t like beans. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Py</i>. Try me. My principles have changed with my quarters. I find that +down here our parents’ heads are in no way connected with beans. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aea</i>. Here is Solon, the son of Execestides, and there is Thales. By them +are Pittacus, and the rest of the sages, seven in all, as you see. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. The only resigned and cheerful countenances yet. Who is the one +covered with ashes, like a loaf baked in the embers? He is all over blisters. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aea</i>. That is Empedocles. He was half-roasted when he got here from Etna. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Tell me, my brazen-slippered friend, what induced you to jump into +the crater? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Em</i>. I did it in a fit of melancholy. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Not you. Vanity, pride, folly; these were what burnt you up, +slippers and all; and serve you right. All that ingenuity was thrown away, too: +your death was detected.—Aeacus, where is Socrates? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aea</i>. He is generally talking nonsense with Nestor and Palamedes. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. But I should like to see him, if he is anywhere about. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aea</i>. You see the bald one? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. They are all bald; that is a distinction without a difference. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aea</i>. The snub-nosed one. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. There again: they are all snub-nosed. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Soc</i>. Do you want me, Menippus? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. The very man I am looking for. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Soc</i>. How goes it in Athens? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. There are a great many young men there professing philosophy; and to +judge from their dress and their walk, they should be perfect in it. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Soc</i>. I have seen many such. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. For that matter, I suppose you saw Aristippus arrive, reeking with +scent; and Plato, the polished flatterer from Sicilian courts? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Soc</i>. And what do they think about <i>me</i> in Athens? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Ah, you are fortunate in that respect. You pass for a most +remarkable man, omniscient in fact. And all the time—if the truth must +out—you know absolutely nothing. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Soc</i>. I told them that myself: but they would have it that that was my +irony. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. And who are your friends? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Soc</i>. Charmides; Phaedrus; the son of Clinias. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Ha, ha! still at your old trade; still an admirer of beauty. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Soc</i>. How could I be better occupied? Will you join us? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. No, thank you; I am off, to take up my quarters by Croesus and +Sardanapalus. I expect huge entertainment from their outcries. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aea</i>. I must be off, too; or some one may escape. You shall see the rest +another day, Menippus. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. I need not detain you. I have seen enough. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +<h4>XXI</h4> + +<p> +<i>Menippus. Cerberus</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. My dear coz—for Cerberus and Cynic are surely related through +the dog—I adjure you by the Styx, tell me how Socrates behaved during the +descent. A God like you can doubtless articulate instead of barking, if he +chooses. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cer</i>. Well, while he was some way off, he seemed quite unshaken; and I +thought he was bent on letting the people outside realize the fact too. Then he +passed into the opening and saw the gloom; I at the same time gave him a touch +of the hemlock, and a pull by the leg, as he was rather slow. Then he squalled +like a baby, whimpered about his children, and, oh, I don’t know what he didn’t +do. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. So <i>he</i> was one of the theorists, was he? His indifference was +a sham? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cer</i>. Yes; it was only that he accepted the inevitable, and put a bold +face on it, pretending to welcome the universal fate, by way of impressing the +bystanders. All that sort are the same, I tell you—bold resolute fellows +as far as the entrance; it is inside that the real test comes. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. What did you think of <i>my</i> performance? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cer</i>. Ah, Menippus, you were the exception; you are a credit to the +breed, and so was Diogenes before you. You two came in without any compulsion +or pushing, of your own free will, with a laugh for yourselves and a curse for +the rest. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +<h4>XXII</h4> + +<p> +<i>Charon. Menippus. Hermes</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. Your fare, you rascal. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Bawl away, Charon, if it gives you any pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. I brought you across: give me my fare. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. I can’t, if I haven’t got it. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. And who is so poor that he has not got a penny? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. I for one; I don’t know who else. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. Pay: or, by Pluto, I’ll strangle you. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. And I’ll crack your skull with this stick. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. So you are to come all that way for nothing? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Let Hermes pay for me: he put me on board. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. I dare say! A fine time I shall have of it, if I am to pay for the +shades. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. I’m not going to let you off. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. You can haul up your ship and wait, for all I care. If I have not +got the money, I can’t pay you, can I? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. You knew you ought to bring it? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. I knew that: but I hadn’t got it. What would you have? I ought not +to have died, I suppose? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. So you are to have the distinction of being the only passenger that +ever crossed gratis? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Oh, come now: gratis! I took an oar, and I baled; and I didn’t cry, +which is more than can be said for any of the others. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. That’s neither here nor there. I must have my penny; it’s only +right. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Well, you had better take me back again to life. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. Yes, and get a thrashing from Aeacus for my pains! I like that. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Well, don’t bother me. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. Let me see what you have got in that wallet. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Beans: have some?—and a Hecate’s supper. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. Where did you pick up this Cynic, Hermes? The noise he made on the +crossing, too! laughing and jeering at all the rest, and singing, when every +one else was at his lamentations. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Ah, Charon, you little know your passenger! Independence, every +inch of him: he cares for no one. ’Tis Menippus. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. Wait till I catch you—- +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Precisely; I’ll wait—till you catch me again. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +<h4>XXIII</h4> + +<p> +<i>Protesilaus. Pluto. Persephone</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pro</i>. Lord, King, our Zeus! and thou, daughter of Demeter! Grant a +lover’s boon! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. What do you want? who are you? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pro</i>. Protesilaus, son of Iphiclus, of Phylace, one of the Achaean host, +the first that died at Troy. And the boon I ask is release and one day’s life. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Ah, friend, that is the love that all these dead men love, and none +shall ever win. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pro</i>. Nay, dread lord, ’tis not life I love, but the bride that I left +new wedded in my chamber that day I sailed away—ah me, to be slain by +Hector as my foot touched land! My lord, that yearning gives me no peace. I +return content, if she might look on me but for an hour. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Did you miss your dose of Lethe, man? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pro</i>. Nay, lord; but this prevailed against it. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Oh, well, wait a little; she will come to you one day; it is so +simple; no need for you to be going up. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pro</i>. My heart is sick with hope deferred; thou too, O Pluto, hast loved; +thou knowest what love is. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. What good will it do you to come to life for a day, and then renew +your pains? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pro</i>. I think to win her to come with me, and bring two dead for one. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. It may not be; it never has been. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pro</i>. Bethink thee, Pluto. ’Twas for this same cause that ye gave Orpheus +his Eurydice; and Heracles had interest enough to be granted Alcestis; she was +of my kin. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Would you like to present that bare ugly skull to your fair bride? +will she admit you, when she cannot tell you from another man? I know well +enough; she will be frightened and run from you, and you will have gone all +that way for nothing. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Per</i>. Husband, doctor that disease yourself: tell Hermes, as soon as +Protesilaus reaches the light, to touch him with his wand, and make him young +and fair as when he left the bridal chamber. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Well, I cannot refuse a lady. Hermes, take him up and turn him into +a bridegroom. But mind, you sir, a strictly temporary one. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +<h4>XXIV</h4> + +<p> +<i>Diogenes. Mausolus</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. Why so proud, Carian? How are you better than the rest of us? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mau</i>. Sinopean, to begin with, I was a king; king of all Caria, ruler of +many Lydians, subduer of islands, conqueror of well-nigh the whole of Ionia, +even to the borders of Miletus. Further, I was comely, and of noble stature, +and a mighty warrior. Finally, a vast tomb lies over me in Halicarnassus, of +such dimensions, of such exquisite beauty as no other shade can boast. Thereon +are the perfect semblances of man and horse, carved in the fairest marble; +scarcely may a temple be found to match it. These are the grounds of my pride: +are they inadequate? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. Kingship—beauty—heavy tomb; is that it? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mau</i>. It is as you say. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. But, my handsome Mausolus, the power and the beauty are no longer +there. If we were to appoint an umpire now on the question of comeliness, I see +no reason why he should prefer your skull to mine. Both are bald, and bare of +flesh; our teeth are equally in evidence; each of us has lost his eyes, and +each is snub-nosed. Then as to the tomb and the costly marbles, I dare say such +a fine erection gives the Halicarnassians something to brag about and show off +to strangers: but I don’t see, friend, that you are the better for it, unless +it is that you claim to carry more weight than the rest of us, with all that +marble on the top of you. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mau</i>. Then all is to go for nothing? Mausolus and Diogenes are to rank as +equals? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. Equals! My dear sir, no; I don’t say that. While Mausolus is +groaning over the memories of earth, and the felicity which he supposed to be +his, Diogenes will be chuckling. While Mausolus boasts of the tomb raised to +him by Artemisia, his wife and sister, Diogenes knows not whether he has a tomb +or no—the question never having occurred to him; he knows only that his +name is on the tongues of the wise, as one who lived the life of a man; a +higher monument than yours, vile Carian slave, and set on firmer foundations. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +<h4>XXV</h4> + +<p> +<i>Nireus. Thersites. Menippus</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ni</i>. Here we are; Menippus shall award the palm of beauty. Menippus, am I +not better-looking than he? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Well, who are you? I must know that first, mustn’t I? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ni</i>. Nireus and Thersites. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Which is which? I cannot tell that yet. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ther</i>. One to me; I am like you; you have no such superiority as Homer +(blind, by the way) gave you when he called you the handsomest of men; he might +peak my head and thin my hair, our judge finds me none the worse. Now, +Menippus, make up your mind which is handsomer. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ni</i>. I, of course, I, the son of Aglaia and Charopus, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Comeliest of all that came ’neath Trojan walls. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. But not comeliest of all that come ’neath the earth, as far as I +know. Your bones are much like other people’s; and the only difference between +your two skulls is that yours would not take much to stove it in. It is a +tender article, something short of masculine. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ni</i>. Ask Homer what I was, when I sailed with the Achaeans. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Dreams, dreams. I am looking at what you are; what you were is +ancient history. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ni</i>. Am I not handsomer here, Menippus? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. You are not handsome at all, nor any one else either. Hades is a +democracy; one man is as good as another here. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ther</i>. And a very tolerable arrangement too, if you ask me. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +<h4>XXVI</h4> + +<p> +<i>Menippus. Chiron</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. I have heard that you were a god, Chiron, and that you died of your +own choice? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Chi</i>. You were rightly informed. I am dead, as you see, and might have +been immortal. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. And what should possess you, to be in love with Death? He has no +charm for most people. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Chi</i>. You are a sensible fellow; I will tell you. There was no further +satisfaction to be had from immortality. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Was it not a pleasure merely to live and see the light? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Chi</i>. No; it is variety, as I take it, and not monotony, that constitutes +pleasure. Living on and on, everything always the same; sun, light, food, +spring, summer, autumn, winter, one thing following another in unending +sequence,—I sickened of it all. I found that enjoyment lay not in +continual possession; that deprivation had its share therein. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Very true, Chiron. And how have you got on since you made Hades your +home? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Chi</i>. Not unpleasantly. I like the truly republican equality that +prevails; and as to whether one is in light or darkness, that makes no +difference at all. Then again there is no hunger or thirst here; one is +independent of such things. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Take care, Chiron! You may be caught in the snare of your own +reasonings. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Chi</i>. How should that be? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Why, if the monotony of the other world brought on satiety, the +monotony here may do the same. You will have to look about for a further +change, and I fancy there is no third life procurable. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Chi</i>. Then what is to be done, Menippus? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Take things as you find them, I suppose, like a sensible fellow, and +make the best of everything. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +<h4>XXVII</h4> + +<p> +<i>Diogenes. Antisthenes. Crates</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. Now, friends, we have plenty of time; what say you to a stroll? we +might go to the entrance and have a look at the new-comers—what they are +and how they behave. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ant</i>. The very thing. It will be an amusing sight—some weeping, +some imploring to be let go, some resisting; when Hermes collars them, they +will stick their heels in and throw their weight back; and all to no purpose. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cra</i>. Very well; and meanwhile, let me give you my experiences on the way +down. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. Yes, go on, Crates; I dare say you saw some entertaining sights. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cra</i>. We were a large party, of which the most distinguished were +Ismenodorus, a rich townsman of ours, Arsaces, ruler of Media, and Oroetes the +Armenian. Ismenodorus had been murdered by robbers going to Eleusis over +Cithaeron, I believe. He was moaning, nursing his wound, apostrophizing the +young children he had left, and cursing his foolhardiness. He knew Cithaeron +and the Eleutherae district were all devastated by the wars, and yet he must +take only two servants with him—with five bowls and four cups of solid +gold in his baggage, too. Arsaces was an old man of rather imposing aspect; he +expressed his feelings in true barbaric fashion, was exceedingly angry at being +expected to walk, and kept calling for his horse. In point of fact it had died +with him, it and he having been simultaneously transfixed by a Thracian pikeman +in the fight with the Cappadocians on the Araxes. Arsaces described to us how +he had charged far in advance of his men, and the Thracian, standing his ground +and sheltering himself with his buckler, warded off the lance, and then, +planting his pike, transfixed man and horse together. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ant</i>. How could it possibly be done simultaneously? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cra</i>. Oh, quite simple. The Median was charging with his thirty-foot +lance in front of him; the Thracian knocked it aside with his buckler; the +point glanced by; then he knelt, received the charge on his pike, pierced the +horse’s chest—the spirited beast impaling itself by its own +impetus—, and finally ran Arsaces through groin and buttock. You see what +happened; it was the horse’s doing rather than the man’s. However, Arsaces did +not at all appreciate equality, and wanted to come down on horseback. As for +Oroetes, he was so tender-footed that he could not stand, far less walk. That +is the way with all the Medes—once they are off their horses, they go +delicately on tiptoe as if they were treading on thorns. He threw himself down, +and there he lay; nothing would induce him to get up; so the excellent Hermes +had to pick him up and carry him to the ferry; how I laughed! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ant</i>. When <i>I</i> came down, I did not keep with the crowd; I left them +to their blubberings, ran on to the ferry, and secured a comfortable seat for +the passage. Then as we crossed, they were divided between tears and +sea-sickness, and gave me a merry time of it. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. You two have described your fellow passengers; now for mine. There +came down with me Blepsias, the Pisatan usurer, Lampis, an Acarnanian +freelance, and the Corinthian millionaire Damis. The last had been poisoned by +his son, Lampis had cut his throat for love of the courtesan Myrtium, and the +wretched Blepsias is supposed to have died of starvation; his awful pallor and +extreme emaciation looked like it. I inquired into the manner of their deaths, +though I knew very well. When Damis exclaimed upon his son, ‘You only have your +deserts,’ I remarked,—‘an old man of ninety living in luxury yourself +with your million of money, and fobbing off your eighteen-year son with a few +pence! As for you, sir Acarnanian’—he was groaning and cursing +Myrtium—, ‘why put the blame on Love? it belongs to yourself; you were +never afraid of an enemy—took all sorts of risks in other people’s +service—and then let yourself be caught, my hero, by the artificial tears +and sighs of the first wench you came across.’ Blepsias uttered his own +condemnation, without giving me time to do it for him: he had hoarded his money +for heirs who were nothing to him, and been fool enough to reckon on +immortality. I assure you it was no common satisfaction I derived from their +whinings. +</p> + +<p> +But here we are at the gate; we must keep our eyes open, and get the earliest +view. Lord, lord, what a mixed crowd! and all in tears except these babes and +sucklings. Why, the hoary seniors are all lamentation too; strange! has madam +Life given them a love-potion? I must interrogate this most reverend senior of +them all.—Sir, why weep, seeing that you have died full of years? has +your excellency any complaint to make, after so long a term? Ah, but you were +doubtless a king. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pauper</i>. Not so. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. A provincial governor, then? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pauper</i>. No, nor that. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. I see; you were wealthy, and do not like leaving your boundless +luxury to die. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pauper</i>. You are quite mistaken; I was near ninety, made a miserable +livelihood out of my line and rod, was excessively poor, childless, a cripple, +and had nearly lost my sight. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. And you still wished to live? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pauper</i>. Ay, sweet is the light, and dread is death; would that one might +escape it! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. You are beside yourself, old man; you are like a child kicking at +the pricks, you contemporary of the ferryman. Well, we need wonder no more at +youth, when age is still in love with life; one would have thought it should +court death as the cure for its proper ills.—And now let us go our way, +before our loitering here brings suspicion on us: they may think we are +planning an escape. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +<h4>XXVIII</h4> + +<p> +<i>Menippus. Tiresias</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Whether you are blind or not, Tiresias, would be a difficult +question. Eyeless sockets are the rule among us; there is no telling Phineus +from Lynceus nowadays. However, I know that you were a seer, and that you enjoy +the unique distinction of having been both man and woman; I have it from the +poets. Pray tell me which you found the more pleasant life, the man’s or the +woman’s? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ti</i>. The woman’s, by a long way; it was much less trouble. Women have the +mastery of men; and there is no fighting for them, no manning of walls, no +squabbling in the assembly, no cross-examination in the law-courts. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Well, but you have heard how Medea, in Euripides, compassionates her +sex on their hard lot—on the intolerable pangs they endure in travail? +And by the way—Medea’s words remind me did you ever have a child, when +you were a woman, or were you barren? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ti</i>. What do you mean by that question, Menippus? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Oh, nothing; but I should like to know, if it is no trouble to you. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ti</i>. I was not barren: but I did not have a child, exactly. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. No; but you might have had. That’s all I wanted to know. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ti</i>. Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. And your feminine characteristics gradually vanished, and you +developed a beard, and became a man? Or did the change take place in a moment? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ti</i>. Whither does your question tend? One would think you doubted the +fact. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. And what should I do but doubt such a story? Am I to take it in, +like a nincompoop, without asking myself whether it is possible or not? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ti</i>. At that rate, I suppose you are equally incredulous when you hear of +women being turned into birds or trees or beasts,—Aedon for instance, or +Daphne, or Callisto? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. If I fall in with any of these ladies, I will see what they have to +say about it. But to return, friend, to your own case: were you a prophet even +in the days of your femininity? or did manhood and prophecy come together? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ti</i>. Pooh, you know nothing of the matter. I once settled a dispute among +the Gods, and was blinded by Hera for my pains; whereupon Zeus consoled me with +the gift of prophecy. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Ah, you love a lie still, Tiresias. But there, ’tis your trade. You +prophets! There is no truth in you. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +<h4>XXIX</h4> + +<p> +<i>Agamemnon. Ajax</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ag</i>. If you went mad and wrought your own destruction, Ajax, in default +of that you designed for us all, why put the blame on Odysseus? Why would you +not vouchsafe him a look or a word, when he came to consult Tiresias that day? +you stalked past your old comrade in arms as if he was beneath your notice. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aj</i>. Had I not good reason? My madness lies at the door of my solitary +rival for the arms. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ag</i>. Did you expect to be unopposed, and carry it over us all without a +contest? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aj</i>. Surely, in such a matter. The armour was mine by natural right, +seeing I was Achilles’s cousin. The rest of you, his undoubted superiors, +refused to compete, recognizing my claim. It was the son of Laertes, he that I +had rescued scores of times when he would have been cut to pieces by the +Phrygians, who set up for a better man and a stronger claimant than I. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ag</i>. Blame Thetis, then, my good sir; it was she who, instead of +delivering the inheritance to the next of kin, brought the arms and left the +ownership an open question. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aj</i>. No, no; the guilt was in claiming them—alone, I mean. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ag</i>. Surely, Ajax, a mere man may be forgiven the sin of coveting +honour—that sweetest bait for which each one of us adventured; nay, and +he outdid you there, if a Trojan verdict counts. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Aj</i>. Who inspired that verdict [Footnote: Athene is meant. The allusion +is to Homer, <i>Od. xi. 547</i>, a passage upon the contest for the arms of +Achilles, in which Odysseus states that ‘The judges were the sons of the +Trojans, and Pallas Athene.’]? I know, but about the Gods we may not speak. Let +that pass; but cease to hate Odysseus? ’tis not in my power, Agamemnon, though +Athene’s self should require it of me. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +<h4>XXX</h4> + +<p> +<i>Minos. Sostratus</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mi</i>. Sostratus, the pirate here, can be dropped into Pyriphlegethon, +Hermes; the temple-robber shall be clawed by the Chimera; and lay out the +tyrant alongside of Tityus, there to have his liver torn by the vultures. And +you honest fellows can make the best of your way to Elysium and the Isles of +the Blest; this it is to lead righteous lives. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sos</i>. A word with you, Minos. See if there is not some justice in my +plea. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mi</i>. What, more pleadings? Have you not been convicted of villany and +murder without end? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sos</i>. I have. Yet consider whether my sentence is just. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mi</i>. Is it just that you should have your deserts? If so, the sentence is +just. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sos</i>. Well, answer my questions; I will not detain you long. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mi</i>. Say on, but be brief; I have other cases waiting for me. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sos</i>. The deeds of my life—were they in my own choice, or were they +decreed by Fate? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mi</i>. Decreed, of course. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sos</i>. Then all of us, whether we passed for honest men or rogues, were +the instruments of Fate in all that we did? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mi</i>. Certainly; Clotho prescribes the conduct of every man at his birth. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sos</i>. Now suppose a man commits a murder under compulsion of a power +which he cannot resist, an executioner, for instance, at the bidding of a +judge, or a bodyguard at that of a tyrant. Who is the murderer, according to +you? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mi</i>. The judge, of course, or the tyrant. As well ask whether the sword +is guilty, which is but the tool of his anger who is prime mover in the affair. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sos</i>. I am indebted to you for a further illustration of my argument. +Again: a slave, sent by his master, brings me gold or silver; to whom am I to +be grateful? who goes down on my tablets as a benefactor? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mi</i>. The sender; the bringer is but his minister. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sos</i>. Observe then your injustice! You punish us who are but the slaves +of Clotho’s bidding, and reward these, who do but minister to another’s +beneficence. For it will never be said that it was in our power to gainsay the +irresistible ordinances of Fate? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mi</i>. Ah, Sostratus; look closely enough, and you will find plenty of +inconsistencies besides these. However, I see you are no common pirate, but a +philosopher in your way; so much you have gained by your questions. Let him go, +Hermes; he shall not be punished after that. But mind, Sostratus, you must not +put it into other people’s heads to ask questions of this kind. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap12"></a>MENIPPUS</h3> + +<h4>A NECROMANTIC EXPERIMENT</h4> + +<p> +<i>Menippus. Philonides</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. All hail, my roof, my doors, my hearth and home! How sweet again to +see the light and thee! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Phi</i>. Menippus the cynic, surely; even so, or there are visions about. +Menippus, every inch of him. What has he been getting himself up like that for? +sailor’s cap, lyre, and lion-skin? However, here goes.—How are you, +Menippus? where do <i>you</i> spring from? You have disappeared this long time. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Death’s lurking-place I leave, and those dark gates Where Hades +dwells, a God apart from Gods. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Phi</i>. Good gracious! has Menippus died, all on the quiet, and come to +life for a second spell? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Not so; a <i>living</i> guest in Hades I. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Phi</i>. But what induced you to take this queer original journey? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Youth drew me on—too bold, too little wise. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Phi</i>. My good man, truce to your heroics; get off those iambic stilts, +and tell me in plain prose what this get-up means; what did you want with the +lower regions? It is a journey that needs a motive to make it attractive. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Dear friend, to Hades’ realms I needs must go, To counsel with +Tiresias of Thebes. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Phi</i>. Man, you must be mad; or why string verses instead of talking like +one friend with another? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. My dear fellow, you need not be so surprised. I have just been in +Euripides’s and Homer’s company; I suppose I am full to the throat with verse, +and the numbers come as soon as I open my mouth. But how are things going up +here? what is Athens about? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Phi</i>. Oh, nothing new; extortion, perjury, forty per cent, face-grinding. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Poor misguided fools! they are not posted up in the latest +lower-world legislation; the recent decrees against the rich will be too much +for all their evasive ingenuity. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Phi</i>. Do you mean to say the lower world has been making new regulations +for us? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Plenty of them, I assure you. But I may not publish them, nor reveal +secrets; the result might be a suit for impiety in the court of Rhadamanthus. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Phi</i>. Oh now, Menippus, in Heaven’s name, no secrets between friends! you +know I am no blabber; and I am initiated, if you come to that. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. ’Tis a hard thing you ask, and a perilous; yet for you I must +venture it. It was resolved, then, that these rich who roll in money and keep +their gold under lock and key like a Danae—- +</p> + +<p> +<i>Phi</i>. Oh, don’t come to the decrees yet; begin at the beginning. I am +particularly curious about your object in going, who showed you the way, and +the whole story of what you saw and heard down there; you are a man of taste, +and sure not to have missed anything worth looking at or listening to. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. I can refuse you nothing, you see; what is one to do, when a friend +insists? Well, I will show you first the state of mind which put me on the +venture. When I was a boy, and listened to Homer’s and Hesiod’s tales of war +and civil strife—and they do not confine themselves to the Heroes, but +include the Gods in their descriptions, adulterous Gods, rapacious Gods, +violent, litigious, usurping, incestuous Gods—, well, I found it all +quite proper, and indeed was intensely interested in it. But as I came to man’s +estate, I observed that the laws flatly contradicted the poets, forbidding +adultery, sedition, and rapacity. So I was in a very hazy state of mind, and +could not tell what to make of it. The Gods would surely never have been guilty +of such behaviour if they had not considered it good; and yet law-givers would +never have recommended avoiding it, if avoidance had not seemed desirable. +</p> + +<p> +In this perplexity, I determined to go to the people they call philosophers, +put myself in their hands, and ask them to make what they would of me and give +me a plain reliable map of life. This was my idea in going to them; but the +effort only shifted me from the frying-pan into the fire; it was just among +these that my inquiry brought the greatest ignorance and bewilderment to light; +they very soon convinced me that the real golden life is that of the man in the +street. One of them would have me do nothing but seek pleasure and ensue it; +according to him, Happiness was pleasure. Another recommended the exact +contrary—toil and moil, bring the body under, be filthy and squalid, +disgusting and abusive—concluding always with the tags from Hesiod about +Virtue, or something about indefatigable pursuit of the ideal. Another bade me +despise money, and reckon the acquisition of it as a thing indifferent; he too +had his contrary, who declared wealth a good in itself. I will spare you their +metaphysics; I was sickened with daily doses of Ideas, Incorporeal Things, +Atoms, Vacua, and a multitude more. The extraordinary thing was that people +maintaining the most opposite views would each of them produce convincing +plausible arguments; when the same thing was called hot and cold by different +persons, there was no refuting one more than the other, however well one knew +that it could not be hot and cold at once. I was just like a man dropping off +to sleep, with his head first nodding forward, and then jerking back. +</p> + +<p> +Yet that absurdity is surpassed by another. I found by observation that the +practice of these same people was diametrically opposed to their precepts. +Those who preached contempt of wealth would hold on to it like grim death, +dispute about interest, teach for pay, and sacrifice everything to the main +chance, while the depreciators of fame directed all their words and deeds to +nothing else but fame; pleasure, which had all their private devotions, they +were almost unanimous in condemning. +</p> + +<p> +Thus again disappointed of my hope, I was in yet worse case than before; it was +slight consolation to reflect that I was in numerous and wise and eminently +sensible company, if I was a fool still, all astray in my quest of Truth. One +night, while these thoughts kept me sleepless, I resolved to go to Babylon and +ask help from one of the Magi, Zoroaster’s disciples and successors; I had been +told that by incantations and other rites they could open the gates of Hades, +take down any one they chose in safety, and bring him up again. I thought the +best thing would be to secure the services of one of these, visit Tiresias the +Boeotian, and learn from that wise seer what is the best life and the right +choice for a man of sense. I got up with all speed and started straight for +Babylon. When I arrived, I found a wise and wonderful Chaldean; he was +white-haired, with a long imposing beard, and called Mithrobarzanes. My prayers +and supplications at last induced him to name a price for conducting me down. +</p> + +<p> +Taking me under his charge, he commenced with a new moon, and brought me down +for twenty-nine successive mornings to the Euphrates, where he bathed me, +apostrophizing the rising sun in a long formula, of which I never caught much; +he gabbled indistinctly, like bad heralds at the Games; but he appeared to be +invoking spirits. This charm completed, he spat thrice upon my face, and I went +home, not letting my eyes meet those of any one we passed. Our food was nuts +and acorns, our drink milk and hydromel and water from the Choaspes, and we +slept out of doors on the grass. When he thought me sufficiently prepared, he +took me at midnight to the Tigris, purified and rubbed me over, sanctified me +with torches and squills and other things, muttering the charm aforesaid, then +made a magic circle round me to protect me from ghosts, and finally led me home +backwards just as I was; it was now time to arrange our voyage. +</p> + +<p> +He himself put on a magic robe, Median in character, and fetched and gave me +the cap, lion’s skin, and lyre which you see, telling me if I were asked my +name not to say Menippus, but Heracles, Odysseus, or Orpheus. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Phi</i>. What was that for? I see no reason either for the get-up or for the +choice of names. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Oh, obvious enough; there is no mystery in that. He thought that as +these three had gone down alive to Hades before us, I might easily elude +Aeacus’s guard by borrowing their appearance, and be passed as an +<i>habitue</i>; there is good warrant in the theatre for the efficiency of +disguise. +</p> + +<p> +Dawn was approaching when we went down to the river to embark; he had provided +a boat, victims, hydromel, and all necessaries for our mystic enterprise. We +put all aboard, and then, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Troubled at heart, with welling tears, we went. +</p> + +<p> +For some distance we floated down stream, until we entered the marshy lake in +which the Euphrates disappears. Beyond this we came to a desolate, wooded, +sunless spot; there we landed, Mithrobarzanes leading the way, and proceeded to +dig a pit, slay our sheep, and sprinkle their blood round the edge. Meanwhile +the Mage, with a lighted torch in his hand, abandoning his customary whisper, +shouted at the top of his voice an invocation to all spirits, particularly the +Poenae and Erinyes, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Hecat’s dark might, and dread Persephone, +</p> + +<p> +with a string of other names, outlandish, unintelligible, and polysyllabic. +</p> + +<p> +As he ended, there was a great commotion, earth was burst open by the +incantation, the barking of Cerberus was heard far off, and all was overcast +and lowering; +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Quaked in his dark abyss the King of Shades; +</p> + +<p> +for almost all was now unveiled to us, the lake, and Phlegethon, and the abode +of Pluto. Undeterred, we made our way down the chasm, and came upon +Rhadamanthus half dead with fear. Cerberus barked and looked like getting up; +but I quickly touched my lyre, and the first note sufficed to lull him. +Reaching the lake, we nearly missed our passage for that time, the ferry-boat +being already full; there was incessant lamentation, and all the passengers had +wounds upon them; mangled legs, mangled heads, mangled everything; no doubt +there was a war going on. Nevertheless, when good Charon saw the lion’s skin, +taking me for Heracles, he made room, was delighted to give me a passage, and +showed us our direction when we got off. +</p> + +<p> +We were now in darkness; so Mithrobarzanes led the way, and I followed holding +on to him, until we reached a great meadow of asphodel, where the shades of the +dead, with their thin voices, came flitting round us. Working gradually on, we +reached the court of Minos; he was sitting on a high throne, with the Poenae, +Avengers, and Erinyes standing at the sides. From another direction was being +brought a long row of persons chained together; I heard that they were +adulterers, procurers, publicans, sycophants, informers, and all the filth that +pollutes the stream of life. Separate from them came the rich and usurers, +pale, pot-bellied, and gouty, each with a hundredweight of spiked collar upon +him. There we stood looking at the proceedings and listening to the pleas they +put in; their accusers were orators of a strange and novel species. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Phi</i>. +Who, in God’s name? shrink not; let me know all. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. It has not escaped your observation that the sun projects certain +shadows of our bodies on the ground. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Phi</i>. How should it have? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. These, when we die, are the prosecutors and witnesses who bring home +to us our conduct on earth; their constant attendance and absolute attachment +to our persons secures them high credit in the witness-box. +</p> + +<p> +Well, Minos carefully examined each prisoner, and sent him off to the place of +the wicked to receive punishment proportionate to his transgressions. He was +especially severe upon those who, puffed up with wealth and authority, were +expecting an almost reverential treatment; he could not away with their +ephemeral presumption and superciliousness, their failure to realize the +mortality of themselves and their fortunes. Stripped of all that made them +glorious, of wealth and birth and power, there they stood naked and downcast, +reconstructing their worldly blessedness in their minds like a dream that is +gone; the spectacle was meat and drink to me; any that I knew by sight I would +come quietly up to, and remind him of his state up here; what a spirit had his +been, when morning crowds lined his hall, expectant of his coming, being +jostled or thrust out by lacqueys! at last my lord Sun would dawn upon them, in +purple or gold or rainbow hues, not unconscious of the bliss he shed upon those +who approached, if he let them kiss his breast or his hand. These reminders +seemed to annoy them. +</p> + +<p> +Minos, however, did allow his decision to be influenced in one case. Dionysius +of Syracuse was accused by Dion of many unholy deeds, and damning evidence was +produced by his shadow; he was on the point of being chained to the Chimera, +when Aristippus of Cyrene, whose name and influence are great below, got him +off on the ground of his constant generosity as a patron of literature. +</p> + +<p> +We left the court at last, and came to the place of punishment. Many a piteous +sight and sound was there—cracking of whips, shrieks of the burning, rack +and gibbet and wheel; Chimera tearing, Cerberus devouring; all tortured +together, kings and slaves, governors and paupers, rich and beggars, and all +repenting their sins. A few of them, the lately dead, we recognized. These +would turn away and shrink from observation; or if they met our eyes, it would +be with a slavish cringing glance—how different from the arrogance and +contempt that had marked them in life! The poor were allowed half-time in their +tortures, respite and punishment alternating. Those with whom legend is so busy +I saw with my eyes—Ixion, Sisyphus, the Phrygian Tantalus in all his +misery, and the giant Tityus—how vast, his bulk covering a whole field! +</p> + +<p> +Leaving these, we entered the Acherusian plain, and there found the demi-gods, +men and women both, and the common dead, dwelling in their nations and tribes, +some of them ancient and mouldering, ‘strengthless heads,’ as Homer has it, +others fresh, with substance yet in them, Egyptians chiefly, these—so +long last their embalming drugs. But to know one from another was no easy task; +all are so like when the bones are bared; yet with pains and long scrutiny we +could make them out. They lay pell-mell in undistinguished heaps, with none of +their earthly beauties left. With all those anatomies piled together as like as +could be, eyes glaring ghastly and vacant, teeth gleaming bare, I knew not how +to tell Thersites from Nireus the beauty, beggar Irus from the Phaeacian king, +or cook Pyrrhias from Agamemnon’s self. Their ancient marks were gone, and +their bones alike—uncertain, unlabelled, indistinguishable. +</p> + +<p> +When I saw all this, the life of man came before me under the likeness of a +great pageant, arranged and marshalled by Chance, who distributed infinitely +varied costumes to the performers. She would take one and array him like a +king, with tiara, bodyguard, and crown complete; another she dressed like a +slave; one was adorned with beauty, another got up as a ridiculous hunchback; +there must be all kinds in the show. Often before the procession was over she +made individuals exchange characters; they could not be allowed to keep the +same to the end; Croesus must double parts and appear as slave and captive; +Maeandrius, starting as slave, would take over Polycrates’s despotism, and be +allowed to keep his new clothes for a little while. And when the procession is +done, every one disrobes, gives up his character with his body, and appears, as +he originally was, just like his neighbour. Some, when Chance comes round +collecting the properties, are silly enough to sulk and protest, as though they +were being robbed of their own instead of only returning loans. You know the +kind of thing on the stage—tragic actors shifting as the play requires +from Creon to Priam, from Priam to Agamemnon; the same man, very likely, whom +you saw just now in all the majesty of Cecrops or Erechtheus, treads the boards +next as a slave, because the author tells him to. The play over, each of them +throws off his gold-spangled robe and his mask, descends from the buskin’s +height, and moves a mean ordinary creature; his name is not now Agamemnon son +of Atreus or Creon son of Menoeceus, but Polus son of Charicles of Sunium or +Satyrus son of Theogiton of Marathon. Such is the condition of mankind, or so +that sight presented it to me. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Phi</i>. Now, if a man occupies a costly towering sepulchre, or leaves +monuments, statues, inscriptions behind him on earth, does not this place him +in a class above the common dead? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Nonsense, my good man; if you had looked on Mausolus +himself—the Carian so famous for his tomb—, I assure you, you would +never have stopped laughing; he was a miserable unconsidered unit among the +general mass of the dead, flung aside in a dusty hole, with no profit of his +sepulchre but its extra weight upon him. No, friend, when Aeacus gives a man +his allowance of space—and it never exceeds a foot’s breadth—, he +must be content to pack himself into its limits. You might have laughed still +more if you had beheld the kings and governors of earth begging in Hades, +selling salt fish for a living, it might be, or giving elementary lessons, +insulted by any one who met them, and cuffed like the most worthless of slaves. +When I saw Philip of Macedon, I could not contain myself; some one showed him +to me cobbling old shoes for money in a corner. Many others were to be seen +begging—people like Xerxes, Darius, or Polycrates. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Phi</i>. These royal downfalls are extraordinary almost—incredible. +But what of Socrates, Diogenes, and such wise men? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Socrates still goes about proving everybody wrong, the same as ever; +Palamedes, Odysseus, Nestor, and a few other conversational shades, keep him +company. His legs, by the way, were still puffy and swollen from the poison. +Good Diogenes pitches close to Sardanapalus, Midas, and other specimens of +magnificence. The sound of their lamentations and better-day memories keeps him +in laughter and spirits; he is generally stretched on his back roaring out a +noisy song which drowns lamentation; it annoys them, and they are looking out +for a new pitch where he may not molest them. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Phi</i>. I am satisfied. And now for that decree which you told me had been +passed against the rich. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Well remembered; that was what I meant to tell you about, but I have +somehow got far astray. Well, during my stay the presiding officers gave notice +of an assembly on matters of general interest. So, when I saw every one +flocking to it, I mingled with the shades and constituted myself a member. +Various measures were decided upon, and last came this question of the rich. +Many grave accusations were preferred against them, including violence, +ostentation, pride, injustice; and at last a popular speaker rose and moved +this decree. +</p> + +<h4>DECREE</h4> + +<p> +‘Whereas the rich are guilty of many illegalities on earth, harrying and +oppressing the poor and trampling upon all their rights, it is the pleasure of +the Senate and People that after death they shall be punished in their bodies +like other malefactors, but their souls shall be sent on earth to inhabit +asses, until they have passed in that shape a quarter-million of years, +generation after generation, bearing burdens under the tender mercies of the +poor; after which they shall be permitted to die. Mover of this +decree—Cranion son of Skeletion of the deme Necysia in the Alibantid +[Footnote: The four names are formed from words meaning skull, skeleton, +corpse, anatomy.] tribe.’ The decree read, a formal vote was taken, in which +the people accepted it. A snort from Brimo and a bark from Cerberus completed +the proceedings according to the regular form. +</p> + +<p> +So went the assembly. And now, in pursuance of my original design, I went to +Tiresias, explained my case fully, and implored him to give me his views upon +the best life. He is a blind little old man, pale and weak-voiced. He smiled +and said:—‘My son, the cause of your perplexity, I know, is the fact that +doctors differ; but I may not enlighten you; Rhadamanthus forbids.’ ‘Ah, say +not so, father,’ I exclaimed; ‘speak out, and leave me not to wander through +life in a blindness worse than yours.’ So he drew me apart to a considerable +distance, and whispered in my ear:—‘The life of the ordinary man is the +best and most prudent choice; cease from the folly of metaphysical speculation +and inquiry into origins and ends, utterly reject their clever logic, count all +these things idle talk, and pursue one end alone—how you may do what your +hand finds to do, and go your way with ever a smile and never a passion.’ +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +So he, and sought the lawn of asphodel. +</p> + +<p> +It was now late, and I told Mithrobarzanes that our work was done, and we might +reascend. ‘Very well, Menippus,’ said he, ‘I will show you an easy short cut.’ +And taking me to a place where the darkness was especially thick, he pointed to +a dim and distant ray of light—a mere pencil admitted through a chink. +‘There,’ he said, ‘is the shrine of Trophonius, from which the Boeotian +inquirers start; go up that way, and you will be on Grecian soil without more +ado.’ I was delighted, took my leave of the Mage, crawled with considerable +difficulty through the aperture, and found myself, sure enough, at Lebadea. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap13"></a>CHARON</h3> + +<p> +<i>Hermes. Charon</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. So gay, Charon? What makes you leave your ferry to come up here? +You are quite a stranger in the upper world. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. I thought I should like to see what life is like; what men do with +it, and what are these blessings of which they all lament the loss when they +come down to us. Never one of them has made the passage dry-eyed. So I got +leave from Pluto to take a day off, like that Thessalian lad [Footnote: See +Protesilaus in Notes.], you know; and here I am, in the light of day. I am in +luck, it seems, to fall in with you. You will show me round, of course, and +point out all that is to be seen, as you know all about it. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. I have no time, good ferryman. I am bound on certain errands of the +Upper Zeus, certain human matters. He is short-tempered: any loitering on my +part, and he may hand me over to you Powers of Darkness for good and all; or +treat me as he did Hephaestus the other day—hurl me down headlong from +the threshold of Heaven; there would be a pair of lame cupbearers then, to +amuse the gods. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. And you would leave an old messmate wandering at large on the face +of the earth? Think of the cruises we have sailed together, the cargoes you and +I have handled! You might remember one thing, son of Maia; I have never set you +down to bale or row. You lie sprawling about the deck, you great strong lubber, +snoring away, or chatting the whole trip through with any communicative shade +you can find; and the old man plies both oars at once. Come, stand by me, like +a true son of Zeus as you are, and show me all the ins and outs, there’s a dear +lad. I want to see something of life before I go back, and if you leave me in +the lurch, I shall be no better off than a blind man: <i>he</i> comes to grief +because he is always in the dark, and, contrariwise, <i>I</i> can make nothing +of it in the light. Do me this good turn, and I’ll not forget it. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Clearly this is to be a flogging matter for me. There will go some +shrewd knocks to the settlement of this reckoning. However, I must give you a +helping hand. What is one to do, when a friend is so pressing? Now, as to going +over everything thoroughly, it is out of the question; it would take us years. +Meanwhile, I should have the hue-and-cry out after me, you would be neglecting +your ghostly work, Pluto would lose the shades that you ought to be shipping +over all that time, and Aeacus would never take a single toll, and would be +proportionately furious. We have only to think, therefore, of contriving you a +general view of what is going on. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. You must do the best you can for me. I know nothing of the matter, +being a stranger up here. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. The main thing is to get an elevation from which you may see in +every direction. If you could come up to Heaven, we should be saved any further +trouble; you would then have a good bird’s-eye view of everything. But it would +be sacrilege for one so conversant with phantoms to set foot in the courts of +Zeus. Let us lose no time, therefore, in looking out a good high mountain. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. You know what I sometimes say to you on the ship, Hermes.—If a +sudden gust strikes the sail from a new quarter, and the waves are rising high, +you landsmen know not what to make of it; you are for taking in sail, or +slackening the sheet, or letting her go before the wind, and then I tell you +not to trouble your heads, for <i>I</i> know what to do. Well, now it is your +turn; you are sailing this ship; do as you think best, and I’ll sit quiet, as a +passenger should, and obey orders. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Just so; leave it to me, and I will find a good look-out. How would +Caucasus do? Or is Parnassus higher? Olympus, perhaps, is higher than either of +them. Olympus! stay, that reminds me; I have a happy thought. But there is work +for two here; I shall want your assistance. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. Give your orders, I’ll bear a hand, to the best of my ability. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Homer tells us how the sons of Aloeus [Footnote: See <i>Olus</i> in +Notes.] (they were but two, like ourselves) took it into their heads, when they +were yet children, to drag up Ossa from its foundations, and plant it on the +top of Olympus, and then Pelion on the top of all; they thought that would +serve as a ladder for getting into heaven. The two boys were rightly punished +for their presumption. But <i>we</i> have no design against the Gods: why +should not we take the hint, and make an erection of mountains piled one on the +top of another? From such a height we should get a better view. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. What, shall we two be able to lift Pelion or Ossa? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Why not? We are gods; I should hope we are as good as those two +infants. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. Yes; but I should never have thought we could do such a job as that. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Ah, my dear Charon, you don’t understand these things; you have no +imagination. To the lofty spirit of Homer this is simplicity itself. Just a +couple of lines, and the mountains are in place;—we have only to walk up. +I wonder you make such a marvel of this. You know Atlas, of course? He holds up +the entire heaven by himself, Gods and all. And I dare say you have heard how +my brother Heracles relieved him once, and took the burden on his own shoulders +for a time? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. Yes, I have heard it. But you and the poets best know whether it is +true. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Oh, perfectly true. What should induce wise men to lie?—Come, +let us get to work on Ossa first; for so the masterbuilder directs: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Ossa first;<br/> + On Ossa leafy Pelion.<br/> +</p> + +<p> +There! What think you of this? Is it suave work? is it poetry? I must run up, +and see whether we shall want another storey. Oh dear, we are no way up as yet. +On the East, it is all I can do to make out Ionia and Lydia; on the West is +nothing but Italy and Sicily; on the North, nothing to be seen beyond the +Danube; and on the South, Crete, none too clear. It looks to me as if we should +want Oeta, my nautical friend; and Parnassus into the bargain. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. So be it; but take care not to make the height too great for the +width; or down we shall come, ladder and all, and pay our footing in the +Homeric school of architecture with a cracked crown apiece. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. No fear; all will be safe enough. Pass Oeta along. Now trundle +Parnassus up. There; I’ll go up again…. That’s better! A fine view. You can +come now. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. Give me a hand up, Hermes. This <i>is</i> an erection, and no +mistake! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Well, you know, you would see everything. Safety is one thing, my +friend, and sight-seeing is another. Here is my hand; hang on, and keep clear +of the slippery bits. There, now <i>you</i> are up. Let us sit down; here are +two peaks, one for each of us. Now take a general look round at the prospect. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. I see a vast stretch of land, and a huge lake surrounding it, and +mountains, and rivers bigger than Cocytus and Pyriphlegethon; and men, tiny +little things! and I suppose their dens. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her. Dens</i>? Those are cities! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. I tell you what it is, Hermes; all this is no use. Here have we been +shifting about Parnassus (Castalia and all complete), and Oeta, and these +others, and we might have spared ourselves the trouble! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. How so? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. Why, I can make nothing out up here. These cities and mountains look +for all the world like a map. It is <i>men</i> that I am after; I want to see +what they do, and hear what they say. That is what I was laughing about just +now, when first you met me, and asked me what the joke was. I had heard +something that tickled me hugely. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. And what might that be? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. One of them had been asked by a friend to dinner, I think it was, +the next day. ‘Depend on it,’ says he, ‘I’ll be with you.’ And before the words +were out of his mouth, down came a tile—started somehow from the +roof—and he was a dead man! Ha, ha, thought I, <i>that</i> promise will +never be kept. So I think I shall go down again; I want to see and hear. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Sit where you are. I will soon put that right; you shall see with +the best; Homer has a charm for this too. Now, the moment I say the lines, +there must be no more dull eyes; all must be clear as daylight. Don’t forget! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. Say on. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + See, from before thine eyes I lift the veil;<br/> + So shalt thou clearly know both God and man.<br/> +</p> + +<p> +Well? Are the eyes any better? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. A marvellous improvement! Lynceus is blind to me. Now, the next +thing I want is information. I have some questions to ask. Will you have them +couched in the Homeric style, to convince you that I am not wholly unversed in +his poems? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. And how should you know anything of Homer? A seaman, chained to the +oar! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. Come, come; no abuse of my profession. The fact is, when he died, +and I ferried him over, I heard a good many of his ballads, and a few of them +still run in my head. There was a pretty stiff gale on at the time, too. You +see, he began singing a song about Posidon, which boded no good to us +mariners,—how Posidon gathered the clouds, and stirred the depths with +his trident, as with a ladle, and roused the whirlwind, and a good deal more +(enough to raise a storm of itself),—when suddenly there came a black +squall which nearly capsized the boat. The poet was extremely ill, and +disgorged such an avalanche of minstrelsy (Scylla, Charybdis, the Cyclops, all +came up bodily), that I had no difficulty in preserving a few snatches. I +should like to know, for instance, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Who is yon hero, stout and strong and tall,<br/> + O’ertopping all mankind by head and shoulders?<br/> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. That is Milo of Croton, the athlete. He has just picked up a bull, +and is carrying it along the race-course; and the Greeks are applauding him. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. It would be more to the point, if they were to offer their +congratulations to <i>me</i>. I shall presently be picking up Milo himself, and +putting him into my boat; that will be after he has had his fall from Death, +that most invincible of antagonists, who will have him on his back before he +knows what is happening. We shall hear a sad tale then, no doubt, of the crowns +and the applause he has left behind him. Meanwhile, he is mightily elated over +the bull exploit, and the distinction it has won him. What is one to think? +Does it ever occur to him that he must <i>die</i> some day? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. How should he think of death? He is at his zenith. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. Well, never mind him. We shall have sport enough with him before +long; he will come aboard with no strength left to pick up a gnat, let alone a +bull. But pray, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Who is yon haughty hero?<br/> + No Greek, to judge by his dress.<br/> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. That is Cyrus, son of Cambyses, who transferred to the Persians the +ancient empire of the Medes. He has lately conquered Assyria, and reduced +Babylon; and now it looks as if he meditated an invasion of Lydia, to complete +his dominion by the overthrow of Croesus. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. And whereabouts is Croesus? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Look over there. You see the great city with the triple wall? That +is Sardis. And there, look, is Croesus himself, reclining on a golden couch, +and conversing with Solon the Athenian. Shall we listen to what they are +saying? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. Yes, let us. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cr. Stranger, you have now seen my stores of treasure, my heaps of bullion, +and all my riches. Tell me therefore, whom do you account the happiest of +mankind</i>? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. What will Solon say, I wonder? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Trust Solon; he will not disgrace himself. +</p> + +<p> +<i>So</i>. <i>Croesus, few men are happy. Of those whom I know, the happiest, I +think, were Cleobis and Biton, the sons of the Argive priestess</i>. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. Ah, he means those two who yoked themselves to a waggon, and drew +their mother to the temple, and died the moment after. It was but the other +day. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cr</i>. <i>Ah. So they are first on the list. And who comes next</i>? +</p> + +<p> +<i>So</i>. <i>Tellus the Athenian, who lived a righteous life, and died for his +country</i>. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cr</i>. <i>And where do I come, reptile</i>? +</p> + +<p> +<i>So</i>. <i>That I am unable to say at present, Croesus; I must see you end +your days first. Death is the sure test;—a happy end to a life of +happiness</i>. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. Bravo, Solon; <i>you</i> have not forgotten us! As you say, Charon’s +ferry is the proper place for the decision of these questions.—But who +are these men whom Croesus is sending out? And what have they got on their +shoulders? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Those are bars of gold; they are going to Delphi, to pay for an +oracle, which oracle will presently be the ruin of Croesus. But oracles are a +hobby of his. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. Oh, so that is <i>gold</i>, that glittering yellow stuff, with just +a tinge of red in it. I have often heard of gold, but never saw it before. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Yes, that is the stuff there is so much talking and squabbling +about. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. Well now, I see no advantages about it, unless it is an advantage +that it is heavy to carry. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Ah, you do not know what it has to answer for; the wars and plots +and robberies, the perjuries and murders; for this men will endure slavery and +imprisonment; for this they traffic and sail the seas. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. For this stuff? Why, it is not much different from copper. I know +copper, of course, because I get a penny from each passenger. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Yes, but copper is plentiful, and therefore not much esteemed by +men. Gold is found only in small quantities, and the miners have to go to a +considerable depth for it. For the rest, it comes out of the earth, just the +same as lead and other metals. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. What fools men must be, to be enamoured of an object of this sallow +complexion; and of such a weight! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Well, Solon, at any rate, seems to have no great affection for it. +See, he is making merry with Croesus and his outlandish magnificence. I think +he is going to ask him a question. Listen. +</p> + +<p> +<i>So</i>. <i>Croesus, will those bars be any use to Apollo, do you think?</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cr</i>. <i>Any use! Why there is nothing at Delphi to be compared to them.</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>So</i>. <i>And that is all that is wanting to complete his happiness, +eh?—some bar gold?</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cr</i>. <i>Undoubtedly.</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>So</i>. <i>Then they must be very hard up in Heaven, if they have to send all +the way to Lydia for their gold supply?</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cr</i>. <i>Where else is gold to be had in such abundance as with us?</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>So</i>. <i>Now is any iron found in Lydia?</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cr</i>. <i>Not much.</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>So</i>. <i>Ah; so you are lacking in the more valuable metal.</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cr</i>. <i>More valuable? Iron more valuable than gold?</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>So</i>. <i>Bear with me, while I ask you a few questions, and I will convince +you it is so.</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cr</i>. <i>Well?</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>So</i>. <i>Of protector and protege, which is the better man?</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cr</i>. <i>The protector, of course.</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>So</i>. <i>Now in the event of Cyrus’s invading Lydia—there is some talk +of it—shall you supply your men with golden swords? or will iron be +required, on the occasion?</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cr</i>. <i>Oh, iron.</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>So</i>. <i>Iron accordingly you must have, or your gold would be led captive +into Persia?</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cr</i>. <i>Blasphemer!</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>So</i>. <i>Oh, we will hope for the best. But it is clear, on your own +admission, that iron is better than gold.</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cr</i>. <i>And what would you have me do? Recall the gold, and offer the God +bars of iron?</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>So</i>. <i>He has no occasion for iron either. Your offering (be the metal what +it may) will fall into other hands than his. It will be snapped up by the +Phocians, or the Boeotians, or the God’s own priests; or by some tyrant or +robber. Your goldsmiths have no interest for Apollo.</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cr</i>. <i>You are always having a stab at my wealth. It is all envy!</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. This blunt sincerity is not to the Lydian’s taste. Things are come +to a strange pass, he thinks, if a poor man is to hold up his head, and speak +his mind in this frank manner! He will remember Solon presently, when the time +comes for Cyrus to conduct him in chains to the pyre. I heard Clotho, the other +day, reading over the various dooms. Among other things, Croesus was to be led +captive by Cyrus, and Cyrus to be murdered by the queen of the Massagetae. +There she is: that Scythian woman, riding on a white horse; do you see? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. Yes. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. That is Tomyris. She will cut off Cyrus’s head, and put it into a +wine-skin filled with blood. And do you see his son, the boy there? That is +Cambyses. He will succeed to his father’s throne; and, after innumerable +defeats in Libya and Ethiopia, will finally slay the god Apis, and die a raving +madman. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. What fun! Why, at this moment no one would presume to meet their +eyes; from such a height do they look down on the rest of mankind. Who would +believe that before long one of them will be a captive, and the other have his +head in a bottle of blood?—But who is that in the purple robe, +Hermes?—the one with the diadem? His cook has just been cleaning a fish, +and is now handing him a ring,—“in yonder sea-girt isle”; “’tis, sure, +some king.” +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>.Ha, ha! A parody, this time.—That is Polycrates, tyrant of +Samos. He is extremely well pleased with his lot: yet that slave who now stands +at his side will betray him to the satrap Oroetes, and he will be crucified. It +will not take long to overturn <i>his</i> prosperity, poor man! This, too, I +had from Clotho. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. I like Clotho; she is a lady of spirit. Have at them, madam! Off +with their heads! To the cross with them! Let them know that they are men. And +let them be exalted in the meantime; the higher they mount, the heavier will be +the fall. I shall have a merry time of it hereafter, identifying their naked +shades, as they come aboard; no more purple robes then; no tiaras; no golden +couches! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. So much for royalty; and now to the common herd. Do you see them, +Charon;—on their ships and on the field of battle; crowding the +law-courts and following the plough; usurers here, beggars there? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. I see them. What a jostling life it is! What a world of ups and +downs! Their cities remind me of bee-hives. Every man keeps a sting for his +neighbour’s service; and a few, like wasps, make spoil of their weaker +brethren. But what are all these misty shapes that beset them on every side? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Hopes, Fears, Follies, Pleasures, Greeds, Hates, Grudges, and such +like. They differ in their habits. The Folly is a domestic creature, with +vested rights of its own. The same with the Grudge, the Hate, the Envy, the +Greed, the Know-not, and the What’s-to-do. But the Fear and the Hope fly +overhead. The Fear swoops on its prey from above; sometimes it is content with +startling a man out of his wits, sometimes it frightens him in real earnest. +The Hope hovers almost within reach, and just when a man thinks he is going to +catch it, off it flies, and leaves him gaping—like Tantalus in the water, +you know. Now look closely, and you will make out the Fates up aloft, spinning +each man his spindle-full; from that spindle a man hangs by a narrow thread. Do +you see what looks like a cobweb, coming down to each man from the spindles? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. I see each has a very slight thread. They are mostly entangled, one +with another, and that other with a third. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Of course they are. Because the first man has got to be murdered by +the second, and he by the third; or again, B is to be A’s heir (A’s thread +being the shorter), and C is to be B’s. That is what the entangling means. But +you see what thin threads they all have to depend on. Now here is one drawn +high up into the air; presently his thread will snap, when the weight becomes +too much for it, and down he will come with a bang: whereas yonder fellow hangs +so low that when he does fall it makes no noise; his next-door neighbours will +scarcely hear him drop. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. How absurd it all is! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. My dear Charon, there is no word for the absurdity of it. They do +take it all so seriously, that is the best of it; and then, long before they +have finished scheming, up comes good old Death, and whisks them off, and all +is over! You observe that he has a fine staff of assistants at his +command;—agues, consumptions, fevers, inflammations, swords, robbers, +hemlock, juries, tyrants,—not one of which gives them a moment’s concern +so long as they are prosperous; but when they come to grief, then it is Alack! +and Well-a-day! and Oh dear me! If only they would start with a clear +understanding that they are mortal, that after a brief sojourn on the earth +they will wake from the dream of life, and leave all behind them,—they +would live more sensibly, and not mind dying so much. As it is, they get it +into their heads that what they possess they possess for good and all; the +consequence is, that when Death’s officer calls for them, and claps on a fever +or a consumption, they take it amiss; the parting is so wholly unexpected. +Yonder is a man building his house, urging the workmen to use all dispatch. How +would he take the news, that he was just to see the roof on and all complete, +when he would have to take his departure, and leave all the enjoyment to his +heir?—hard fate, not once to sup beneath it! There again is one rejoicing +over the birth of a son; the child is to inherit his grandfather’s name, and +the father is celebrating the occasion with his friends. He would not be so +pleased, if he knew that the boy was to die before he was eight years old! It +is natural enough: he sees before him some happy father of an Olympian victor, +and has no eyes for his neighbour there, who is burying a child; <i>that</i> +thin-spun thread escapes his notice. Behold, too, the money-grubbers, whom the +aforesaid Death’s-officers will never permit to be money-spenders; and the +noble army of litigant neighbours! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. Yes! I see it all; and I ask myself, what is the satisfaction in +life? What is it that men bewail the loss of? Take their kings; they seem to be +best off, though, as you say, they have their happiness on a precarious tenure; +but apart from that, we shall find their pleasures to be outweighed by the +vexations inseparable from their position—worry and anxiety, flattery +here, conspiracy there, enmity everywhere; to say nothing of the tyranny of +Sorrow, Disease, and Passion, with whom there is confessedly no respect of +persons. And if the king’s lot is a hard one, we may make a pretty shrewd guess +at that of the commoner. Come now, I will give you a similitude for the life of +man. Have you ever stood at the foot of a waterfall, and marked the bubbles +rising to the surface and gathering into foam? Some are quite small, and break +as soon as they are born. Others last longer; new ones come to join them, and +they swell up to a great size: yet in the end they burst, as surely as the +rest; it cannot be otherwise. There you have human life. All men are bubbles, +great or small, inflated with the breath of life. Some are destined to last for +a brief space, others perish in the very moment of birth: but all must +inevitably burst. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Homer compares mankind to leaves. Your simile is full as good as +his. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. And being the things they are, they do—the things you see; +squabbling among themselves, and contending for dominion and power and riches, +all of which they will have to leave behind them, when they come down to us +with their penny apiece. Now that we are up here, how would it be for me to cry +out to them at the top of my voice, to abstain from their vain endeavours, and +live with the prospect of Death before their eyes? ‘Fools’ (I might say), ‘why +so much in earnest? Rest from your toils. You will not live for ever. Nothing +of the pomp of this world will endure; nor can any man take anything hence when +he dies. He will go naked out of the world, and his house and his lands and his +gold will be another’s, and ever another’s.’ If I were to call out something of +this sort, loud enough for them to hear, would it not do some good? Would not +the world be the better for it? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Ah, my poor friend, you know not what you say. Ignorance and deceit +have done for them what Odysseus did for his crew when he was afraid of the +Sirens; they have waxed men’s ears up so effectually, that no drill would ever +open them. How then should they hear you? You might shout till your lungs gave +way. Ignorance is as potent here as the waters of Lethe are with you. There are +a few, to be sure, who from a regard for Truth have refused the wax process; +men whose eyes are open to discern good and evil. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. Well then, we might call out to <i>them</i>? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. There again: where would be the use of telling them what they know +already? See, they stand aloof from the rest of mankind, and scoff at all that +goes on; nothing is as they would have it. Nay, they are evidently bent on +giving life the slip, and joining you. Their condemnations of folly make them +unpopular here. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. Well done, my brave boys! There are not many of them, though, +Hermes. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. These must serve. And now let us go down. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. There is still one thing I had a fancy to see. Show me the +receptacles into which they put the corpses, and your office will have been +discharged. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Ah, <i>sepulchres</i>, those are called, or <i>tombs</i>, or +<i>graves</i>. Well, do you see those mounds, and columns, and pyramids, +outside the various city walls? Those are the store-chambers of the dead. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. Why, they are putting flowers on the stones, and pouring costly +essences upon them. And in front of some of the mounds they have piled up +faggots, and dug trenches. Look: there is a splendid banquet laid out, and they +are burning it all; and pouring wine and mead, I suppose it is, into the +trenches! What does it all mean? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. What satisfaction it affords to their friends in Hades, I am unable +to say. But the idea is, that the shades come up, and get as close as they can, +and feed upon the savoury steam of the meat, and drink the mead in the trench. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. Eat and drink, when their skulls are dry bone? But I am wasting my +breath: you bring them down every day;—<i>you</i> can say whether they +are likely ever to get up again, once they are safely underground! That would +be too much of a good thing! You would have your work cut out for you and no +mistake, if you had not only to bring them down, but also to take them up again +when they wanted a drink. Oh, fools and blockheads! You little know how we +arrange matters, or what a gulf is set betwixt the living and the dead! +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + The buried and unburied, both are Death’s.<br/> + He ranks alike the beggar and the king;<br/> + Thersites sits by fair-haired Thetis’ son.<br/> + Naked and withered roam the fleeting shades<br/> + Together through the fields of asphodel.<br/> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Bless me, what a deluge of Homer! And now I think of it, I must +show you Achilles’s tomb. There it is on the Trojan shore, at Sigeum. And +across the water is Rhoeteum, where Ajax lies buried. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. Rather small tombs, considering. Now show me the great cities, those +that we hear talked about in Hades; Nineveh, Babylon, Mycenae, Cleonae, and +Troy itself. I shipped numbers across from there, I remember. For ten years +running I had no time to haul my boat up and clean it. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Why, as to Nineveh, it is gone, friend, long ago, and has left no +trace behind it; there is no saying whereabouts it may have been. But there is +Babylon, with its fine battlements and its enormous wall. Before long it will +be as hard to find as Nineveh. As to Mycenae and Cleonae, I am ashamed to show +them to you, let alone Troy. You will throttle Homer, for certain, when you get +back, for puffing them so. They were prosperous cities, too, in their day; but +they have gone the way of all flesh. Cities, my friend, die, just like men; +stranger still, so do rivers! Inachus is gone from Argos—not a puddle +left. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. Oh, Homer, Homer! You and your ‘holy Troy,’ and your ‘city of broad +streets,’ and your ‘strong-walled Cleonae’!—By the way, what is that +battle going on over there? What are they murdering one another about? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. It is between the Argives and the Lacedaemonians. The general who +lies there half-dead, writing an inscription on the trophy with his own blood, +is Othryades. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. And what were they fighting for? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. For the field of battle, neither more nor less. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. The fools! Not to know that though each one of them should win to +himself a whole Peloponnesus, he will get but a bare foot of ground from +Aeacus! As to yonder plain, one nation will till it after another, and many a +time will that trophy be turned up by the plough. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Even so. And now let us get down, and put these mountains to rights +again. After which, I must be off on my errand, and you back to your ferry. You +will see me there before long, with the day’s contingent of shades. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. I am much obliged to you, Hermes; the service shall be perpetuated +in my records. Thanks to you, my outing has been a success. Dear, dear, what a +world it is!—And never a word of Charon! +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap14"></a>OF SACRIFICE</h3> + +<p> +Methinks that man must lie sore stricken under the hand of sorrow, who has not +a smile left for the folly of his superstitious brethren, when he sees them at +work on sacrifice and festival and worship of the gods, hears the subject of +their prayers, and marks the nature of their creed. Nor, I fancy, will a smile +be all. He will first have a question to ask himself: Is he to call them devout +worshippers or very outcasts, who think so meanly of God as to suppose that he +can require anything at the hand of man, can take pleasure in their flattery, +or be wounded by their neglect? Thus the afflictions of the Calydonians, that +long tale of misery and violence, ending with the death of Meleager—all +is attributed to the resentment of Artemis, at Oeneus’s neglect in not inviting +her to a feast. She must have taken the disappointment very much to heart. I +fancy I see her, poor Goddess, left all alone in Heaven, after the rest have +set out for Calydon, brooding darkly over the fine spread at which she will not +be present. Those Ethiopians, too; privileged, thrice-happy mortals! Zeus, one +supposes, is not unmindful of the handsome manner in which they entertained him +and all his family for twelve days running. With the Gods, clearly, nothing +goes for nothing. Each blessing has its price. Health is to be had, say, for a +calf; wealth, for a couple of yoke of oxen; a kingdom, for a hecatomb. A safe +conduct from Troy to Pylos has fetched as much as nine bulls, and a passage +from Aulis to Troy has been quoted at a princess. For six yoke of oxen and a +robe, Athene sold Hecuba a reprieve for Troy; and it is to be presumed that a +cock, a garland, a handful of frankincense, will each buy something. +</p> + +<p> +Chryses, that experienced divine and eminent theologian, seems to have realized +this principle. Returning from his fruitless visit to Agamemnon, he approaches +Apollo with the air of a creditor, and demands repayment of his loan. His +attitude is one of remonstrance, almost, ‘Good Apollo,’ he cries, ‘here have I +been garlanding your temple, where never garland hung before, and burning +unlimited thigh-pieces of bulls and goats upon your altars: yet when I suffer +wrong, you take no heed; you count my benefactions as nothing worth.’ The God +is quite put out of countenance: he seizes his bow, settles down in the harbour +and smites the Achaeans with shafts of pestilence, them and their mules and +their dogs. +</p> + +<p> +And now that I have mentioned Apollo, I cannot refrain from an allusion to +certain other passages in his life, which are recorded by the sages. With his +unfortunate love affairs—the sad end of Hyacinth, and the cruelty of +Daphne—we are not concerned. But when that vote of censure was passed on +him for the slaughter of the Cyclopes, he was dismissed from Heaven, and +condemned to share the fortunes of men upon earth. It was then that he served +Admetus in Thessaly, and Laomedon in Phrygia; and in the latter service he was +not alone. He and Posidon together, since better might not be, made bricks and +built the walls of Troy; and did not even get their full wages;—the +Phrygian, it is said, remained their debtor for no less a sum than +five-and-twenty shillings Trojan, and odd pence. These, and yet holier +mysteries than these, are the high themes of our poets. They tell of Hephaestus +and of Prometheus; of Cronus and Rhea, and well-nigh all the family of Zeus. +And as they never commence their poems without bespeaking the assistance of the +Muses, we must conclude that it is under that divine inspiration that they +sing, how Cronus unmanned his father Uranus, and was king in his room; and how, +like Argive Thyestes, he swallowed his own children; and how thereafter Rhea +saved Zeus by the fraud of the stone, and the child was exposed in Crete, and +suckled by a goat, as Telephus was by a hind, and Cyrus the Great by a bitch; +and how he dethroned his father, and threw him into prison, and was king; and +of his many wives, and how finally (like a Persian or an Assyrian) he married +his own sister Hera; and of his love adventures, and how he peopled the Heaven +with gods, ay, and with demi-gods, the rogue! for he wooed the daughters of +earth, appearing to them now in a shower of gold, now in the form of a bull or +a swan or an eagle; a very Proteus for versatility. Once, and only once, he +conceived within his own brain, and gave birth to Athene. For Dionysus, they +say, he tore from the womb of Semele before the fire had yet consumed her, and +hid the child within his thigh, till the time of travail was come. +</p> + +<p> +Similarly, we find Hera conceiving without external assistance, and giving +birth to Hephaestus; no child of fortune he, but a base mechanic, living all +his life at the forge, soot-begrimed as any stoker. He is not even sound of +limb; he has been lame ever since Zeus threw him down from Heaven. Fortunately +for us the Lemnians broke his fall, or there would have been an end of him, as +surely as there was of Astyanax when he was flung from the battlements. But +Hephaestus is nothing to Prometheus. Who knows not the sorrows of that +officious philanthropist? How he too fell a victim to the wrath of Zeus, and +was carried into Scythia, and nailed up on Caucasus, with an eagle to keep him +company and make daily havoc of his liver? However, <i>there</i> was a +reckoning settled, at any rate. But Rhea, now! We cannot, I think, pass over +her conduct unnoticed. It is surely most discreditable;—a lady of her +venerable years, the mother of such a family, still feeling the pangs of love +and jealousy, and carrying her beloved Attis about with her in the lion-drawn +car,—and he so ill qualified to play the lover’s part! After that, we can +but wink, if we find Aphrodite making a slip, or Selene time after time pulling +up in mid-career to pay a visit to Endymion. +</p> + +<p> +But enough of scandal. Borne on the wings of poesy, let us take flight for +Heaven itself, as Homer and Hesiod have done before us, and see how all is +disposed up there. The vault is of brass on the under side, as we know from +Homer. But climb over the edge, and take a peep up. You are now actually in +Heaven. Observe the increase of light; here is a purer Sun, and brighter stars; +daylight is everywhere, and the floor is of gold. We arrive first at the abode +of the Seasons; they are the fortresses of Heaven. Then we have Iris and +Hermes, the servants and messengers of Zeus; and next Hephaestus’s smithy, +which is stocked with all manner of cunning contrivances. Last come the +dwellings of the Gods, and the palace of Zeus. All are the work of Hephaestus; +and noble work it is. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Hard by the throne of Zeus +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +(I suppose we must adapt our language to our altitude) +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +sit all the gods. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Their eyes are turned downwards; intently they search every corner of the +earth; is there nowhere a fire to be seen, or the steam of burnt- offerings +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +... in eddying clouds upborne? +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +If a sacrifice is going forward, all mouths are open to feast upon the smoke; +like flies they settle on the altar to drink up the trickling streams of blood. +If they are dining at home, nectar and ambrosia is the bill of fare. In ancient +days, mortals have eaten and drunk at their table. Such were Ixion and +Tantalus; but they forgot their manners, and talked too much. They are paying +the penalty for it to this day; and since then mortals have been excluded from +Heaven. +</p> + +<p> +The life of the Gods being such as I have described, our religious ordinances +are in admirable harmony with the divine requirements. Our first care has been +to supply each God with his sacred grove, his holy hill, and his own peculiar +bird or plant. The next step was to assign them their various sacred cities. +Apollo has the freedom of Delphi and Delos, Athene that of Athens (there is no +disputing <i>her</i> nationality); Hera is an Argive, Rhea a Mygdonian, +Aphrodite a Paphian. As for Zeus, he is a Cretan born and bred—and +buried, as any native of that island will show you. It was a mistake of ours to +suppose that Zeus was dispensing the thunder and the rain and the rest of +it;—he has been lying snugly underground in Crete all this time. As it +would never have done to leave the Gods without a hearth and home, temples were +now erected, and the services of Phidias, Polyclitus, and Praxiteles were +called in to create images in their likeness. Chance glimpses of their +originals (but where obtained I know not) enabled these artists to do justice +to the beard of Zeus, the perpetual youth of Apollo, the down on Hermes’s +cheek, Posidon’s sea-green hair, and Athene’s flashing eyes; with the result +that on entering the temple of Zeus men believe that they see before them, not +Indian ivory, nor gold from a Thracian mine, but the veritable son of Cronus +and Rhea, translated to earth by the hand of Phidias, with instructions to keep +watch over the deserted plains of Pisa, and content with his lot, if, once in +four years, a spectator of the games can snatch a moment to pay him sacrifice. +</p> + +<p> +And now the altars stand ready; proclamation has been made, and lustration duly +performed. The victims are accordingly brought forward—an ox from the +plough, a ram or a goat, according as the worshipper is a farmer, a shepherd, +or a goatherd; sometimes it is only frankincense or a honey cake; nay, a poor +man may conciliate the God by merely kissing his hand. But it is with the +priests that we are concerned. They first make sure that the victim is without +blemish, and worthy of the sacrificial knife; then they crown him with garlands +and lead him to the altar, where he is slaughtered before the God’s eyes, to +the broken accompaniment of his own sanctimonious bellowings, most musical, +most melancholy. The delight of the Gods at such a spectacle, who can doubt? +</p> + +<p> +According to the proclamation, no man shall approach the holy ground with +<i>unclean hands</i>. Yet there stands the priest himself, wallowing in gore; +handling his knife like a very Cyclops, drawing out entrails and heart, +sprinkling the altar with blood,—in short, omitting no detail of his holy +office. Finally, he kindles fire, and sets the victim bodily thereon, sheep or +goat, unfleeced, unflayed. A godly steam, and fit for godly nostrils, rises +heavenwards, and drifts to each quarter of the sky. The Scythian, by the way, +will have nothing to do with paltry cattle: he offers <i>men</i> to Artemis; +and the offering is appreciated. +</p> + +<p> +But all this, and all that Assyria, Phrygia, and Lydia can show, amounts to +nothing much. If you would see the Gods in their glory, fit denizens of Heaven, +you must go to Egypt. There you will find that Zeus has sprouted ram’s horns, +our old friend Hermes has the muzzle of a dog, and Pan is perfect goat; ibis, +crocodile, ape,—each is a God in disguise. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +And wouldst thou know the truth that lurks herein? +</p> + +<p> +If so, you will find no lack of sages and scribes and shaven priests to inform +you (after expulsion of the <i>profanum vulgus</i>) how, when the Giants and +their other enemies rose against them, the Gods fled to Egypt to hide +themselves, and there took the form of goat and ram, of bird and reptile, which +forms they preserve to this day. Of all this they have documentary evidence, +dating from thousands of years back, stored up in their temples. Their +sacrifices differ from others only in this respect, that they go into mourning +for the victim, slaying him first, and beating their breasts for grief +afterwards, and (in some parts) burying him as soon as he is killed. When their +great god Apis dies, off comes every man’s hair, however much he values himself +on it; though he had the purple lock of Nisus, it would make no difference: he +must show a sad crown on the occasion, if he die for it. It is as the result of +an election that each succeeding Apis leaves his pasture for the temple; his +superior beauty and majestic bearing prove that he is something more than bull. +</p> + +<p> +On such absurdities as these, such vulgar credulity, remonstrance would be +thrown away; a Heraclitus would best meet the case, or a Democritus; for the +ignorance of these men is as laughable as their folly is deplorable. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap15"></a>SALE OF CREEDS</h3> + +<p> +[Footnote: The distinction between the personified creeds or philosophies here +offered for sale, and their various founders or principal exponents, is but +loosely kept up. Not only do most of the creeds bear the names of their +founders, but some are even credited with their physical peculiarities and +their personal experiences.] +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus. Hermes. Several Dealers. Creeds</i>. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Now get those benches straight there, and make the place fit to be +seen. Bring up the lots, one of you, and put them in line. Give them a rub up +first, though; we must have them looking their best, to attract bidders. +Hermes, you can declare the sale-room open, and a welcome to all +comers.—<i>For Sale! A varied assortment of Live Creeds. Tenets of every +description.—Cash on delivery; or credit allowed on suitable +security</i>. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Hermes</i>. Here they come, swarming in. No time to lose; we must not keep +them waiting. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Well, let us begin. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. What are we to put up first? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. The Ionic fellow, with the long hair. He seems a showy piece of +goods. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Step up, Pythagoreanism, and show yourself. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Go ahead. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Now here is a creed of the first water. Who bids for this handsome +article? What gentleman says Superhumanity? Harmony of the Universe! +Transmigration of souls! Who bids? +</p> + +<p> +<i>First Dealer</i>. He looks all right. And what can he do? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Magic, music, arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, jugglery. Prophecy +in all its branches. +</p> + +<p> +<i>First D</i>. Can I ask him some questions? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Ask away, and welcome. +</p> + +<p> +<i>First D</i>. Where do you come from? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Py</i>. Samos. +</p> + +<p> +<i>First D</i>. Where did you get your schooling? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Py</i>. From the sophists in Egypt. +</p> + +<p> +<i>First D</i>. If I buy you, what will you teach me? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Py</i>. Nothing. I will remind you. +</p> + +<p> +<i>First D</i>. Remind me? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Py</i>. But first I shall have to cleanse your soul of its filth. +</p> + +<p> +<i>First D</i>. Well, suppose the cleansing process complete. How is the +reminding done? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Py</i>. We shall begin with a long course of silent contemplation. Not a +word to be spoken for five years. +</p> + +<p> +<i>First D</i>. You would have been just the creed for Croesus’s son! But +<i>I</i> have a tongue in my head; I have no ambition to be a statue. And after +the five years’ silence? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Py</i>. You will study music and geometry. +</p> + +<p> +<i>First D</i>. A charming recipe! The way to be wise: learn the guitar. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Py</i>. Next you will learn to count. +</p> + +<p> +<i>First D</i>. I can do that already. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Py</i>. Let me hear you. +</p> + +<p> +<i>First D</i>. One, two, three, four,— +</p> + +<p> +<i>Py</i>. There you are, you see. <i>Four</i> (as you call it) is <i>ten</i>. +Four the perfect triangle. Four the oath of our school. +</p> + +<p> +<i>First D</i>. Now by Four, most potent Four!—higher and holier +mysteries than these I never heard. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Py</i>. Then you will learn of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water; their action, +their movement, their shapes. +</p> + +<p> +<i>First D</i>. Have Fire and Air and Water <i>shapes</i>? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Py</i>. Clearly. That cannot move which lacks shape and form You will also +find that God is a number; an intelligence; a harmony. +</p> + +<p> +<i>First D</i>. You surprise me. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Py</i>. More than this, you have to learn that you yourself are not the +person you appear to be. +</p> + +<p> +<i>First D</i>. What, I am some one else, not the I who am speaking to you? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Py</i>. You are that you now: but you have formerly inhabited another body, +and borne another name. And in course of time you will change once more. +</p> + +<p> +<i>First D</i>. Why then I shall be immortal, and take one shape after another? +But enough of this. And now what is your diet? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Py</i>. Of living things I eat none. All else I eat, except beans. +</p> + +<p> +<i>First D</i>. And why no beans? Do you dislike them? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Py</i>. No. But they are sacred things. Their nature is a mystery. Consider +them first in their generative aspect; take a green one and peel it, and you +will see what I mean. Again, boil one and expose it to moonlight for a proper +number of nights, and you have—blood. What is more, the Athenians use +beans to vote with. +</p> + +<p> +<i>First D</i>. Admirable! A very feast of reason. Now just strip, and let me +see what you are like. Bless me, here is a creed with a golden thigh! He is no +mortal, he is a God. I must have him at any price. What do you start him at? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Forty pounds. +</p> + +<p> +<i>First D</i>. He is mine for forty pounds. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Take the gentleman’s name and address. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. He must come from Italy, I should think; Croton or Tarentum, or one +of the Greek towns in those parts. But he is not the only buyer. Some three +hundred of them have clubbed together. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. They are welcome to him. Now up with the next. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. What about yonder grubby Pontian? [Footnote: See <i>Diogenes</i> in +Notes.] +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Yes, he will do. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. You there with the wallet and cloak; come along, walk round the +room. Lot No. 2. A most sturdy and valiant creed, free-born. What offers? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Second D</i>. Hullo, Mr. Auctioneer, are you going to sell a free man? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. That was the idea. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Second D</i>. Take care, he may have you up for kidnapping. This might be +matter for the Areopagus. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Oh, he would as soon be sold as not. He feels just as free as ever. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Second D</i>. But what is one to do with such a dirty fellow? He is a +pitiable sight. One might put him to dig perhaps, or to carry water. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. That he can do and more. Set him to guard your house, and you will +find him better than any watch-dog.—They call him Dog for short. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Second D</i>. Where does he come from? and what is his method? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. He can best tell you that himself. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Second D</i>. I don’t like his looks. He will probably snarl if I go near +him, or take a snap at me, for all I know. See how he lifts his stick, and +scowls; an awkward-looking customer! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Don’t be afraid. He is quite tame. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Second D</i>. Tell me, good fellow, where do you come from? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dio</i>. Everywhere. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Second D</i>. What does that mean? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dio</i>. It means that I am a citizen of the world. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Second D</i>. And your model? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dio</i>. Heracles. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Second D</i>. Then why no lion’s-skin? You have the orthodox club. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dio</i>. My cloak is my lion’s-skin. Like Heracles, I live in a state of +warfare, and my enemy is Pleasure; but unlike him I am a volunteer. My purpose +is to purify humanity. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Second D</i>. A noble purpose. Now what do I understand to be your strong +subject? What is your profession? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dio</i>. The liberation of humanity, and the treatment of the passions. In +short, I am the prophet of Truth and Candour. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Second D</i>. Well, prophet; and if I buy you, how shall you handle my case? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dio</i>. I shall commence operations by stripping off your superfluities, +putting you into fustian, and leaving you closeted with Necessity. Then I shall +give you a course of hard labour. You will sleep on the ground, drink water, +and fill your belly as best you can. Have you money? Take my advice and throw +it into the sea. With wife and children and country you will not concern +yourself; there will be no more of that nonsense. You will exchange your +present home for a sepulchre, a ruin, or a tub. What with lupines and +close-written tomes, your knapsack will never be empty; and you will vote +yourself happier than any king. Nor will you esteem it any inconvenience, if a +flogging or a turn of the rack should fall to your lot. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Second D</i>. How! Am I a tortoise, a lobster, that I should be flogged and +feel it not? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dio</i>. You will take your cue from Hippolytus; <i>mutates mutandis</i>. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Second D</i>. How so? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dio</i>. ‘The heart may burn, the tongue knows nought thereof’. [Footnote: +Hippolytus (in Euripides’s play of that name) is reproached with having broken +an oath, and thus defends himself: ‘The tongue hath sworn: the heart knew +nought thereof.’] Above all, be bold, be impudent; distribute your abuse +impartially to king and commoner. They will admire your spirit. You will talk +the Cynic jargon with the true Cynic snarl, scowling as you walk, and walking +as one should who scowls; an epitome of brutality. Away with modesty, +good-nature, and forbearance. Wipe the blush from your cheek for ever. Your +hunting-ground will be the crowded city. You will live alone in its midst, +holding communion with none, admitting neither friend nor guest; for such would +undermine your power. Scruple not to perform the deeds of darkness in broad +daylight: select your love-adventures with a view to the public entertainment: +and finally, when the fancy takes you, swallow a raw cuttle-fish, and die. Such +are the delights of Cynicism. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Second D</i>. Oh, vile creed! Monstrous creed! Avaunt! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dio</i>. But look you, it is all so easy; it is within every man’s reach. No +education is necessary, no nonsensical argumentation. I offer you a short cut +to Glory. You may be the merest clown—cobbler, fishmonger, carpenter, +money-changer; yet there is nothing to prevent your becoming famous. Given +brass and boldness, you have only to learn to wag your tongue with dexterity. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Second D</i>. All this is of no use to me. But I might make a sailor or a +gardener of you at a pinch; that is, if you are to be had cheap. Three-pence is +the most I can give. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. He is yours, to have and to hold. And good riddance to the brawling +foul-mouthed bully. He is a slanderer by wholesale. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Now for the Cyrenaic, the crowned and purple-robed. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Attend please, gentlemen all. A most valuable article, this, and +calls for a long purse. Look at him. A sweet thing in creeds. A creed for a +king. Has any gentleman a use for the Lap of Luxury? Who bids? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Third D</i>. Come and tell me what you know. If you are a practical creed, I +will have you. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Please not to worry him with questions, sir. He is drunk, and +cannot answer; his tongue plays him tricks, as you see. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Third D</i>. And who in his senses would buy such an abandoned reprobate? +How he smells of scent! And how he slips and staggers about! Well, you must +speak for him, Hermes. What can he do? What is his line? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Well, for any gentleman who is not strait-laced, who loves a pretty +girl, a bottle, and a jolly companion, he is the very thing. He is also a past +master in gastronomy, and a connoisseur in voluptuousness generally. He was +educated at Athens, and has served royalty in Sicily [Footnote: See +<i>Aristippus</i> in Notes.], where he had a very good character. Here are his +principles in a nutshell: Think the worst of things: make the most of things: +get all possible pleasure out of things. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Third D</i>. You must look for wealthier purchasers. My purse is not equal +to such a festive creed. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Zeus, this lot seems likely to remain on our hands. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Put it aside, and up with another. Stay, take the pair from Abdera +and Ephesus; the creeds of Smiles and Tears. They shall make one lot. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Come forward, you two. Lot No. 4. A superlative pair. The smartest +brace of creeds on our catalogue. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fourth D</i>. Zeus! What a difference is here! One of them does nothing but +laugh, and the other might be at a funeral; he is all tears.—You there! +what is the joke? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Democr</i>. You ask? You and your affairs are all one vast joke. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fourth D</i>. So! You laugh at us? Our business is a toy? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Democr</i>. It is. There is no taking it seriously. All is vanity. Mere +interchange of atoms in an infinite void. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fourth D</i>. <i>Your</i> vanity is infinite, if you like. Stop that +laughing, you rascal.—And you, my poor fellow, what are you crying for? I +must see what I can make of you. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Heracl</i>. I am thinking, friend, upon human affairs; and well may I weep +and lament, for the doom of all is sealed. Hence my compassion and my sorrow. +For the present, I think not of it; but the future!—the future is all +bitterness. Conflagration and destruction of the world. I weep to think that +nothing abides. All things are whirled together in confusion. Pleasure and +pain, knowledge and ignorance, great and small; up and down they go, the +playthings of Time. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fourth D</i>. And what is Time? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Heracl</i>. A child; and plays at draughts and blindman’s-bluff. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fourth D</i>. And men? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Heracl</i>. Are mortal Gods. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fourth D</i>. And Gods? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Heracl</i>. Immortal men. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fourth D</i>. So! Conundrums, fellow? Nuts to crack? You are a very oracle +for obscurity. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Heracl</i>. Your affairs do not interest me. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fourth D</i>. No one will be fool enough to bid for you at that rate. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Heracl</i>. Young and old, him that bids and him that bids not, a murrain +seize you all! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fourth D</i>. A sad case. He will be melancholy mad before long. Neither of +these is the creed for my money. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. No one bids. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Next lot. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. The Athenian there? Old Chatterbox? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. By all means. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Come forward!—A good sensible creed this. Who buys Holiness? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fifth D</i>. Let me see. What are you good for? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Soc</i>. I teach the art of love. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fifth D</i>. A likely bargain for me! I want a tutor for my young Adonis. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Soc</i>. And could he have a better? The love I teach is of, the spirit, not +of the flesh. Under my roof, be sure, a boy will come to no harm. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fifth D</i>. Very unconvincing that. A teacher of the art of love, and never +meddle with anything but the spirit? Never use the opportunities your office +gives you? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Soc</i>. Now by Dog and Plane-tree, it is as I say! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fifth D</i>. Heracles! What strange Gods are these? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Soc</i>. Why, the Dog is a God, I suppose? Is not Anubis made much of in +Egypt? Is there not a Dog-star in Heaven, and a Cerberus in the lower world? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fifth D</i>. Quite so. My mistake. Now what is your manner of life? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Soc</i>. I live in a city of my own building; I make my own laws, and have a +novel constitution of my own. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fifth D.</i> I should like to hear some of your statutes. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Soc</i>. You shall hear the greatest of them all. No woman shall be +restricted to one husband. Every man who likes is her husband. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fifth D</i>. What! Then the laws of adultery are clean swept away? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Soc</i>. I should think they were! and a world of hair-splitting with them. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fifth D</i>. And what do you do with the handsome boys? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Soc</i>. Their kisses are the reward of merit, of noble and spirited +actions. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fifth D</i>. Unparalleled generosity!—And now, what are the main +features of your philosophy? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Soc</i>. Ideas and types of things. All things that you see, the earth and +all that is upon it, the sea, the sky,—each has its counterpart in the +invisible world. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fifth D</i>. And where are they? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Soc</i>. Nowhere. Were they anywhere, they were not what they are. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fifth D</i>. I see no signs of these ‘types’ of yours. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Soc</i>. Of course not; because you are spiritually blind. <i>I</i> see the +counterparts of all things; an invisible you, an invisible me; everything is in +duplicate. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fifth D</i>. Come, such a shrewd and lynx-eyed creed is worth a bid. Let me +see. What do you want for him? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Five hundred. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fifth D</i>. Done with you. Only I must settle the bill another day. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. What name? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fifth D</i>. Dion; of Syracuse. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Take him, and much good may he do you. Now I want Epicureanism. Who +offers for Epicureanism? He is a disciple of the laughing creed and the drunken +creed, whom we were offering just now. But he has one extra +accomplishment—impiety. For the rest, a dainty, lickerish creed. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sixth D</i>. What price? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Eight pounds. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sixth D</i>. Here you are. By the way, you might let me know what he likes +to eat. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Anything sweet. Anything with honey in it. Dried figs are his +favourite dish. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sixth D</i>. That is all right. We will get in a supply of Carian fig-cakes. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Call the next lot. Stoicism; the creed of the sorrowful +countenance, the close-cropped creed. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Ah yes, several customers, I fancy, are on the look-out for him. +Virtue incarnate! The very quintessence of creeds! Who is for universal +monopoly? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Seventh D</i>. How are we to understand that? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Why, here is monopoly of wisdom, monopoly of beauty, monopoly of +courage, monopoly of justice. Sole king, sole orator, sole legislator, sole +millionaire. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Seventh D</i>. And I suppose sole cook, sole tanner, sole carpenter, and all +that? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Presumably. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Seventh D</i>. Regard me as your purchaser, good fellow, and tell me all +about yourself. I dare say you think it rather hard to be sold for a slave? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Chrys</i>. Not at all. These things are beyond our control. And what is +beyond our control is indifferent. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Seventh D</i>. I don’t see how you make that out. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Chrys</i>. What! Have you yet to learn that of <i>indifferentia</i> some are +<i>praeposita</i> and others <i>rejecta</i>? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Seventh D</i>. Still I don’t quite see. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Chrys</i>. No; how should you? You are not familiar with our terms. You lack +the <i>comprehensio visi</i>. The earnest student of logic knows this and more +than this. He understands the nature of subject, predicate, and contingent, and +the distinctions between them. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Seventh D</i>. Now in Wisdom’s name, tell me, pray, what is a predicate? +what is a contingent? There is a ring about those words that takes my fancy. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Chrys</i>. With all my heart. A man lame in one foot knocks that foot +accidentally against a stone, and gets a cut. Now the man is <i>subject</i> to +lameness; which is the <i>predicate</i>. And the cut is a <i>contingency</i>. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Seventh D</i>. Oh, subtle! What else can you tell me? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Chrys</i>. I have verbal involutions, for the better hampering, crippling, +and muzzling of my antagonists. This is performed by the use of the far-famed +syllogism. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Seventh D</i>. Syllogism! I warrant him a tough customer. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Chrys</i>. Take a case. You have a child? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Seventh D</i>. Well, and what if I have? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Chrys</i>. A crocodile catches him as he wanders along the bank of a river, +and promises to restore him to you, if you will first guess correctly whether +he means to restore him or not. Which are you going to say? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Seventh D</i>. A difficult question. I don’t know which way I should get him +back soonest. In Heaven’s name, answer for me, and save the child before he is +eaten up. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Chrys</i>. Ha, ha. I will teach you far other things than that. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Seventh D</i>. For instance? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Chrys</i>. There is the ‘Reaper.’ There is the ‘Rightful Owner.’ Better +still, there is the ‘Electra’ and the ‘Man in the Hood.’ +</p> + +<p> +<i>Seventh D</i>. Who was he? and who was Electra? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Chrys</i>. She was <i>the</i> Electra, the daughter of Agamemnon, to whom +the same thing was known and unknown at the same time. She knew that Orestes +was her brother: yet when he stood before her she did not know (until he +revealed himself) that her brother was Orestes. As to the Man in the Hood, he +will surprise you considerably. Answer me now: do you know your own father? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Seventh D</i>. Yes. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Chrys</i>. Well now, if I present to you a man in a hood, shall you know +him? eh? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Seventh D</i>. Of course not. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Chrys</i>. Well, but the Man in the Hood is your father. You don’t know the +Man in the Hood. Therefore you don’t know your own father. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Seventh D</i>. Why, no. But if I take his hood off, I shall get at the +facts. Now tell me, what is the end of your philosophy? What happens when you +reach the goal of virtue? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Chrys</i>. In regard to things external, health, wealth, and the like, I am +then all that Nature intended me to be. But there is much previous toil to be +undergone. You will first sharpen your eyes on minute manuscripts, amass +commentaries, and get your bellyful of outlandish terms. Last but not least, it +is forbidden to be wise without repeated doses of hellebore. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Seventh D</i>. All this is exalted and magnanimous to a degree. But what am +I to think when I find that you are also the creed of cent-per-cent, the creed +of the usurer? Has <i>he</i> swallowed his hellebore? is <i>he</i> made perfect +in virtue? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Chrys</i>. Assuredly. On none but the wise man does usury sit well. +Consider. His is the art of putting two and two together, and usury is the art +of putting interest together. The two are evidently connected, and one as much +as the other is the prerogative of the true believer; who, not content, like +common men, with simple interest, will also take interest <i>upon</i> interest. +For interest, as you are probably aware, is of two kinds. There is simple +interest, and there is its offspring, compound interest. Hear Syllogism on the +subject. ‘If I take simple interest, I shall also take compound. But I +<i>shall</i> take simple interest: therefore I shall take compound.’ +</p> + +<p> +<i>Seventh D</i>. And the same applies to the fees you take from your youthful +pupils? None but the true believer sells virtue for a fee? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Chrys</i>. Quite right. I take the fee in my pupil’s interest, not because I +want it. The world is made up of diffusion and accumulation. I accordingly +practise my pupil in the former, and myself in the latter. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Seventh D</i>. But it ought to be the other way. The pupil ought to +accumulate, and you, ‘sole millionaire,’ ought to diffuse. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Chrys</i>. Ha! you jest with me? Beware of the shaft of insoluble syllogism. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Seventh D</i>. What harm can that do? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Chrys</i>. It cripples; it ties the tongue, and turns the brain. Nay, I have +but to will it, and you are stone this instant. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Seventh D</i>. Stone! You are no Perseus, friend? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Chrys</i>. See here. A stone is a body? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Seventh D</i>. Yes. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Chrys</i>. Well, and an animal is a body? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Seventh D</i>. Yes. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Chrys</i>. And you are an animal? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Seventh D</i>. I suppose I am. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Chrys</i>. Therefore you are a body. Therefore a stone. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Seventh D</i>. Mercy, in Heaven’s name! Unstone me, and let me be flesh as +heretofore. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Chrys</i>. That is soon done. Back with you into flesh! Thus: Is every body +animate? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Seventh D</i>. No. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Chrys</i>. Is a stone animate? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Seventh D</i>. No. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Chrys</i>. Now, you are a body? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Seventh D</i>. Yes. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Chrys</i>. And an animate body? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Seventh D</i>. Yes. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Chrys</i>. Then being animate, you cannot be a stone. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Seventh D</i>. Ah! thank you, thank you. I was beginning to feel my limbs +growing numb and solidifying like Niobe’s. Oh, I must have you. What’s to pay? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Fifty pounds. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Seventh D</i>. Here it is. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Are you sole purchaser? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Seventh D</i>. Not I. All these gentlemen here are going shares. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. A fine strapping lot of fellows, and will do the ‘Reaper’ credit. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. Don’t waste time. Next lot,—the Peripatetic! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Now, my beauty, now, Affluence! Gentlemen, if you want Wisdom for +your money, here is a creed that comprises all knowledge. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Eighth D</i>. What is he like? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. He is temperate, good-natured, easy to get on with; and his strong +point is, that he is twins. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Eighth D</i>. How can that be? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Why, he is one creed outside, and another inside. So remember, if +you buy him, one of him is called Esoteric, and the other Exoteric. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Eighth D</i>. And what has he to say for himself? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. He has to say that there are three kinds of good: spiritual, +corporeal, circumstantial. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Eighth D</i>. <i>There’s</i> something a man can understand. How much is he? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Eighty pounds. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Eighth D</i>. Eighty pounds is a long price. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Not at all, my dear sir, not at all. You see, there is some money +with him, to all appearance. Snap him up before it is too late. Why, from him +you will find out in no time how long a gnat lives, to how many fathoms’ depth +the sunlight penetrates the sea, and what an oyster’s soul is like. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Eighth D</i>. Heracles! Nothing escapes him. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Ah, these are trifles. You should hear some of his more abstruse +speculations, concerning generation and birth and the development of the +embryo; and his distinction between man, the laughing creature, and the ass, +which is neither a laughing nor a carpentering nor a shipping creature. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Eighth D</i>. Such knowledge is as useful as it is ornamental. Eighty pounds +be it, then. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. He is yours. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Zeus</i>. What have we left? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. There is Scepticism. Come along, Pyrrhias, and be put up. Quick’s +the word. The attendance is dwindling; there will be small competition. Well, +who buys Lot 9? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ninth D</i>. I. Tell me first, though, what do you know? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sc</i>. Nothing. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ninth D</i>. But how’s that? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sc</i>. There does not appear to me to <i>be</i> anything. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ninth D</i>. Are not <i>we</i> something? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sc</i>. How do I know that? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ninth D</i>. And you yourself? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sc</i>. Of that I am still more doubtful. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ninth D</i>. Well, you <i>are</i> in a fix! And what have you got those +scales for? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sc</i>. I use them to weigh arguments in, and get them evenly balanced, They +must be absolutely equal—not a feather-weight to choose between them; +then, and not till then, can I make uncertain which is right. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ninth D</i>. What else can you turn your hand to? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sc</i>. Anything; except catching a runaway. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ninth D</i>. And why not that? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sc</i>. Because, friend, everything eludes my grasp. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ninth D</i>. I believe you. A slow, lumpish fellow you seem to be. And what +is the end of your knowledge? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sc</i>. Ignorance. Deafness. Blindness. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ninth D</i>. What! sight and hearing both gone? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sc</i>. And with them judgement and perception, and all, in short, that +distinguishes man from a worm. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ninth D</i>. You are worth money!—What shall we say for him? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Four pounds. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ninth D</i>. Here it is. Well, fellow; so you are mine? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sc</i>. I doubt it. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ninth D</i>. Nay, doubt it not! You are bought and paid for. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sc</i>. It is a difficult case…. I reserve my decision. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ninth D</i>. Now, come along with me, like a good slave. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sc</i>. But how am I to know whether what you say is true? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ninth D</i>. Ask the auctioneer. Ask my money. Ask the spectators. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sc</i>. Spectators? But can we be sure there are any? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ninth D</i>. Oh, I’ll send you to the treadmill. That will convince you with +a vengeance that I am your master. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sc</i>. Reserve your decision. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ninth D</i>. Too late. It is given. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Stop that wrangling and go with your purchaser. Gentlemen, we hope +to see you here again to-morrow, when we shall be offering some lots suitable +for plain men, artisans, and shopkeepers. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap16"></a>THE FISHER</h3> + +<h4>A RESURRECTION PIECE</h4> + +<p class="poem"> +<i>Lucian or Parrhesiades. Socrates, Empedocles. Plato. Chrysippus.<br/> +Diogenes. Aristotle. Other Philosophers. Platonists. Pythagoreans.<br/> +Stoics. Peripatetics. Epicureans. Academics. Philosophy. Truth.<br/> +Temperance. Virtue. Syllogism. Exposure. Priestess of Athene</i>.<br/> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Soc</i>. Stone the miscreant; stone him with many stones; clod him with +clods; pot him with pots; let the culprit feel your sticks; leave him no way +out. At him, Plato! come, Chrysippus, let him have it! Shoulder to shoulder, +close the ranks; +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Let wallet succour wallet, staff aid staff! +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +We are all parties in this war; not one of us but he has assailed. You, +Diogenes, now if ever is the time for that stick of yours; stand firm, all of +you. Let him reap the fruits of his reveling. What, Epicurus, Aristippus, tired +already? ’tis too soon; ye sages, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Be men; relume that erstwhile furious wrath! +</p> + +<p> +Aristotle, one more sprint. There! the brute is caught; we have you, villain. +You shall soon know a little more about the characters you have assailed. Now, +what shall we do with him? it must be rather an elaborate execution, to meet +all our claims upon him; he owes a separate death to every one of us. +</p> + +<p> +<i>First Phil</i>. Impale him, say I. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Second Phil</i>. Yes, but scourge him first. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Third Phil</i>. Tear out his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Fourth Phil</i>. Ah, but first out with the offending tongue. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Soc</i>. What say you, Empedocles? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Emp</i>. Oh, fling him into a crater; that will teach him to vilify his +betters. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. ’Twere best for him, Orpheus or Pentheus like, to +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Find death, dashed all to pieces on the rock; +</p> + +<p> +so each might have taken a piece home with him. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Lu</i>. Forbear; spare me; I appeal to the God of suppliants. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Soc</i>. Too late; no loophole is left you now. And you know your Homer: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +’Twixt men and lions, covenants are null.’ +</p> + +<p> +<i>Lu</i>. Why, it is in Homer’s name that I ask my boon. You will perhaps pay +reverence to his lines, and listen to a selection from him: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Slay not; no churl is he; a ransom take<br/> + Of bronze and gold, whereof wise hearts are fain.<br/> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Why, two can play at that game; <i>exempli gratia</i>, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Reviler, babble not of gold, nor nurse<br/> + Hope of escape from these our hands that hold thee.<br/> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Lu</i>. Ah me, ah me! my best hopes dashed, with Homer! Let me fly to +Euripides; it may be he will protect me: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Leave him his life; the suppliant’s life is sacred. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Does this happen to be Euripides too— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Evil men evil treated is no evil? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Lu</i>. And will you slay me now for nought but words? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Most certainly; our author has something on that point too: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Unbridled lips<br/> + And folly’s slips<br/> + Invite Fate’s whips.<br/> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Lu</i>. Oh, very well; as you are all set on murdering me, and escape is +impossible, do at least tell me who you are, and what harm I have done you; it +must be something irreparable, to judge by your relentless murderous pursuit. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. What harm you have done us, vile fellow? your own conscience and +your fine dialogues will tell you; you have called Philosophy herself bad +names, and as for us, you have subjected us to the indignity of a public +auction, and put up wise men—ay, and free men, which is more—for +sale. We have reason to be angry; we have got a short leave of absence from +Hades, and come up against you—Chrysippus here, Epicurus and myself, +Aristotle yonder, the taciturn Pythagoras, Diogenes and all of us that your +dialogues have made so free with. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Lu</i>. Ah, I breathe again. Once hear the truth about my conduct to you, +and you will never put me to death. You can throw away those stones. Or, no, +keep them; you shall have a better mark for them presently. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. This is trifling. This day thou diest; nay, even now, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +A suit of stones shalt don, thy livery due. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Lu</i>. Believe me, good gentlemen, I have been at much pains on your behalf; +to slay me is to slay one who should rather be selected for commendation a +kindred spirit, a well-wisher, a man after your own heart, a promoter, if I may +be bold to say it, of your pursuits. See to it that you catch not the tone of +our latter-day philosophers, and be thankless, petulant, and hard of heart, to +him that deserves better of you. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Talk of a brazen front! So to abuse us is to oblige us. I believe +you are under the delusion that you are really talking to slaves; after the +insolent excesses of your tongue, do you propose to chop gratitude with us? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Lu</i>. How or when was I ever insolent to you? I have always been an +admirer of philosophy, your panegyrist, and a student of the writings you left. +All that comes from my pen is but what you give me; I deflower you, like a bee, +for the behoof of mankind; and then there is praise and recognition; they know +the flowers, whence and whose the honey was, and the manner of my gathering; +their surface feeling is for my selective art, but deeper down it is for you +and your meadow, where you put forth such bright blooms and myriad dyes, if one +knows but how to sort and mix and match, that one be not in discord with +another. Could he that had found you such have the heart to abuse those +benefactors to whom his little fame was due? then he must be a Thamyris or +Eurytus, defying the Muses who gave his gift of song, or challenging Apollo +with the bow, forgetful from whom he had his marksmanship. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. All this, good sir, is quite according to the principles of +rhetoric; that is to say, it is clean contrary to the facts; your +unscrupulousness is only emphasized by this adding of insult to injury; you +confess that your arrows are from our quiver, and you use them against us; your +one aim is to abuse us. This is our reward for showing you that meadow, letting +you pluck freely, fill your bosom, and depart. For this alone you richly +deserve death. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Lu</i>. There; your ears are partial; they are deaf to the right. Why, I +would never have believed that personal feeling could affect a Plato, a +Chrysippus, an Aristotle; with you, of all men, I thought there was dry light. +But, dear sirs, do not condemn me unheard; give me trial first. Was not the +principle of your establishing—that the law of the stronger was not the +law of the State, and that differences should be settled in court after due +hearing of both sides? Appoint a judge, then; be you my accusers, by your own +mouths or by your chosen representative; and let me defend my own case; then if +I be convicted of wrong, and that be the court’s decision, I shall get my +deserts, and you will have no violence upon your consciences. But if +examination shows me spotless and irreproachable, the court will acquit me, and +then turn you your wrath upon the deceivers who have excited you against me. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Ah, every cock to his own dunghill! You think you will hoodwink the +jury and get off. I hear you are a lawyer, an advocate, an old hand at a +speech. Have you any judge to suggest who will be proof against such an +experienced corrupter as you? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Lu</i>. Oh, be reassured. The official I think of proposing is no +suspicious, dubious character likely to sell a verdict. What say you to forming +the court yourselves, with Philosophy for your President? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Who is to prosecute, if we are the jury? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Lu</i>. Oh, you can do both; I am not in the least afraid; so much stronger +is my case; the defence wins, hands down. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Pythagoras, Socrates, what do you think? perhaps the man’s appeal to +law is not unreasonable. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Soc</i>. No; come along, form the court, fetch Philosophy, and see what he +has to say for himself. To condemn unheard is a sadly crude proceeding, not for +us; leave that to the hasty people with whom might is right. We shall give +occasion to the enemy to blaspheme if we stone a man without a hearing, +professed lovers of justice as we are. We shall have to keep quiet about Anytus +and Meletus, my accusers, and the jury on that occasion, if we cannot spare an +hour to hear this fellow before he suffers. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Very true, Socrates. We will go and fetch Philosophy. The decision +shall be hers, and we will accept it, whatever it is. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Lu</i>. Why, now, my masters, you are in a better and more law-abiding mood. +However, keep those stones, as I said; you will need them in court. But where +is Philosophy to be found? I do not know where she lives, myself. I once spent +a long time wandering about in search of her house, wishing to make her +acquaintance. Several times I met some long-bearded people in threadbare cloaks +who professed to be fresh from her presence; I took their word for it, and +asked them the way; but they knew considerably less about it than I, and either +declined to answer, by way of concealing their ignorance, or else pointed to +one door after another. I have never been able to find the right one to this +day. +</p> + +<p> +Many a time, upon some inward prompting or external offer of guidance, I have +come to a door with the confident hope that this time I really was right; there +was such a crowd flowing in and out, all of solemn persons decently habited and +thoughtful-faced; I would insinuate myself into the press and go in too. What I +found would be a woman who was not really natural, however skillfully she +played at beauty unadorned; I could see at once that the apparent +<i>neglige</i> of her hair was studied for effect, and the folds of her dress +not so careless as they looked. One could tell that nature was a scheme of +decoration with her, and artlessness an artistic device. The white lead and the +rouge did not absolutely defy detection, and her talk betrayed her real +vocation; she liked her lovers to appreciate her beauty, had a ready hand for +presents, made room by her side for the rich, and hardly vouchsafed her poorer +lovers a distant glance. Now and then, when her dress came a little open by +accident, I saw that she had on a massive gold necklace heavier than a penal +collar. That was enough for me; I would retrace my steps, sincerely pitying the +unfortunates whom she led by the—beard, and their Ixion embracings of a +phantom. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. You are right there; the door is not conspicuous, nor generally +known. However, we need not go to her house; we will wait for her here in the +Ceramicus. I should think it is near her hour for coming back from the Academy, +and taking her walk in the Poecile; she is very regular; to be sure, here she +comes. Do you see the orderly, rather prim lady there, with the kindly look in +her eyes, and the slow meditative walk? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Lu</i>. I see several answering the description so far as looks and walk and +clothes go. Yet among them all the real lady Philosophy can be but one. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. True; but as soon as she opens her lips you will know. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. Dear me, what are Plato and Chrysippus and Aristotle doing up +here, and the rest of them—a living dictionary of my teachings? Alive +again? how is this? have things been going wrong down there? you look angry. +And who is your prisoner? a rifler of tombs? A murderer? a temple-robber? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Worse yet, Philosophy. He has dared to slander your most sacred +self, and all of us who have been privileged to impart anything from you to +posterity. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. And did you lose your tempers over abusive words? Did you forget +how Comedy handled me at the Dionysia, and how I yet counted her a friend? Did +I ever sue her, or go and remonstrate? Or did I let her enjoy her holidays in +the harmless old-fashioned way? I know very well that a jest spoils no real +beauty, but rather improves it; so gold is polished by hard rubs, and shines +all the brighter for it. But you seem to have grown passionate and censorious. +Come, why are you strangling him like that? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. We have got this one day’s leave, and come after him to give him his +deserts. Rumours had reached us of the things he used to say about us in his +lectures. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. And are you going to kill him without a trial or a hearing? I +can see he wishes to say something. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. No; we decided to refer it all to you. If you will accept the task, +the decision shall be yours. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. Sir, what is your wish? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Lu</i>. The same, dear Mistress; for none but you can find the truth. It +cost me much entreaty to get the case reserved for you. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. You call her Mistress now, scoundrel; the other day you were making +out Philosophy the meanest of things, when before that great audience you let +her several doctrines go for a pitiful threepence apiece. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. It may be that it was not Ourself he then reviled, but some +impostors who practised vile arts in our name. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. The truth will soon come to light, if you will hear his defence. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. Come we to the Areopagus—or better, to the Acropolis, +where the panorama of Athens will be before us. +</p> + +<p> +Ladies, will you stroll in the Poecile meanwhile? I will join you when I have +given judgement. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Lu</i>. Who are these, Philosophy? methinks their appearance is seemly as +your own. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. This with the masculine features is Virtue; then there is +Temperance, and Justice by her side. In front is Culture; and this shadowy +creature with the indefinite complexion is Truth. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Lu</i>. I do not see which you mean. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. Not see her? over there, all naked and unadorned, shrinking from +observation, and always slipping out of sight. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Lu</i>. Now I just discern her. But why not bring them all with you? there +would be a fullness and completeness about that commission. Ah yes, and I +should like to brief Truth on my behalf. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. Well thought of; come, all of you; you will not mind sitting +through a single case—in which we have a personal interest, too? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Truth</i>. Go on, the rest of you; it is superfluous for me to hear what I +know all about before. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. But, Truth dear, your presence will be useful to us; you will +show us what to think. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Truth</i>. May I bring my two favourite maids, then? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. And as many more as you like. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Truth</i>. Come with me, Freedom and Frankness; this poor little adorer of +ours is in trouble without any real reason; we shall be able to get him out of +it. Exposure, my man, we shall not want you. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Lu</i>. Ah yes, Mistress, let us have him, of all others; my opponents are +no ordinary ruffians; they are people who make a fine show and are hard to +expose; they have always some back way out of a difficulty; we must have +Exposure. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. Yes, we must, indeed; and you had better bring Demonstration +too. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Truth</i>. Come all of you, as you are such important legal persons. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ar</i>. What is this? Philosophy, he is employing Truth against us! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. And are Plato and Chrysippus and Aristotle afraid of her lying +on his behalf, being who she is? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Oh, well, no; only he is a sad plausible rogue; he will take her in. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. Never fear; no wrong will be done, with madam Justice on the +bench by us. Let us go up. +</p> + +<p> +Prisoner, your name? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Lu</i>. Parrhesiades, son of Alethion, son of Elenxicles.* +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[Footnote: i.e. Free-speaker, son of Truthful, son of Exposure.] +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. And your country? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Lu</i>. I am a Syrian from the Euphrates, my lady. But is the question +relevant? Some of my accusers I know to be as much barbarians by blood as +myself; but character and culture do not vary as a man comes from Soli or +Cyprus, Babylon or Stagira. However, even one who could not talk Greek would be +none the worse in your eyes, so long as his sentiments were right and just. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. True, the question was unnecessary. +</p> + +<p> +But what is your profession? that at least is essential. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Lu</i>. I profess hatred of pretension and imposture, lying, and pride; the +whole loathsome tribe of them I hate; and you know how numerous they are. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. Upon my word, you must have your hands full at this profession! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Lu</i>. I have; you see what general dislike and danger it brings upon me. +However, I do not neglect the complementary branch, in which love takes the +place of hate; it includes love of truth and beauty and simplicity and all that +is akin to love. But the subjects for this branch of the profession are sadly +few; those of the other, for whom hatred is the right treatment, are reckoned +by the thousand. Indeed there is some danger of the one feeling being +atrophied, while the other is over-developed. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. That should not be; they run in couples, you know. Do not +separate your two branches; they should have unity in diversity. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Lu</i>. You know better than I, Philosophy. My way is just to hate a +villain, and love and praise the good. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. Well, well. Here we are at the appointed place. We will hold the +trial in the forecourt of Athene Polias. Priestess, arrange our seats, while we +salute the Goddess. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Lu</i>. Polias, come to my aid against these pretenders, mindful of the +daily perjuries thou hearest from them. Their deeds too are revealed to thee +alone, in virtue of thy charge. Thou hast now thine hour of vengeance. If thou +see me in evil case, if blacks be more than whites, then cast thou thy vote and +save me! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. So. Now we are seated, ready to hear your words. Choose one of +your number, the best accuser you may, make your charge, and bring your proofs. +Were all to speak, there would be no end. And you, Parrhesiades, shall +afterwards make your defence. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. Plato, none of us will conduct the prosecution better than you. Your +thoughts are heaven-high, your style the perfect Attic; grace and persuasion, +insight and subtlety, the cogency of well-ordered proof—all these are +gathered in you. Take the spokesman’s office and say what is fitting on our +behalf. Call to memory and roll in one all that ever you said against Gorgias, +Polus, Hippias, Prodicus; you have now to do with a worse than them. Let him +taste your irony; ply him with your keen incessant questions; and if you will, +perorate with the mighty Zeus charioting his winged car through Heaven, and +grudging if this fellow get not his deserts. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Nay, nay; choose one of more strenuous temper—Diogenes, +Antisthenes, Crates, or yourself, Chrysippus. It is no time now for beauty or +literary skill; controversial and forensic resource is what we want. This +Parrhesiades is an orator. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. Let me be accuser; no need for long speeches here. Moreover, I was +the worst treated of all; threepence was my price the other day. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Philosophy, Diogenes will speak for us. But mind, friend, you are +not to represent yourself alone, but think of us all. If we have any private +differences of doctrine, do not go into that; never mind now which of us is +right, but keep your indignation for Philosophy’s wrongs and the names he has +called her. Leave alone the principles we differ about, and maintain what is +common to us all. Now mark, you stand for us all; on you our whole fame +depends; shall it come out majestic, or in the semblance he has given it? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. Never fear; nothing shall be omitted; I speak for all. Philosophy +may be softened by his words—she was ever gentle and +forgiving—<i>she</i> may be minded to acquit him; but the fault shall not +be mine; I will show him that our staves are more than ornaments. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. Nay, take not that way; words, not bludgeons; ’tis better so. +But no delay now; your time-allowance has begun; and the court is all +attention. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Lu</i>. Philosophy, let the rest take their seats and vote with you, leaving +Diogenes as sole accuser. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. Have you no fears of their condemning you? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Lu</i>. None whatever; I wish to increase my majority, that is all. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. I commend your spirit. Gentlemen, take your seats. Now, +Diogenes. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. With our lives on earth, Philosophy, you are acquainted; I need +not dwell long upon them. Of myself I say nothing; but Pythagoras, Plato, +Aristotle, Chrysippus, and the rest—who knows not the benefits that they +conferred on mankind? I will come at once, then, to the insults to which we +have been subjected by the thrice accursed Parrhesiades. He was, by his own +account, an advocate; but he has left the courts and the fame there to be won, +and has availed himself of all the verbal skill and proficiency so acquired for +a campaign of abuse against us. We are impostors and deceivers; his audiences +must ridicule and scorn us for nobodies. Did I say ‘nobodies’? he has made us +an abomination, rather, in the eyes of the vulgar, and yourself with us, +Philosophy. Your teachings are balderdash and rubbish; the noblest of your +precepts to us he parodies, winning for himself applause and approval, and for +us humiliation. For so it is with the great public; it loves a master of flouts +and jeers, and loves him in proportion to the grandeur of what he assails; you +know how it delighted long ago in Aristophanes and Eupolis, when they +caricatured our Socrates on the stage, and wove farcical comedies around him. +But they at least confined themselves to a single victim, and they had the +charter of Dionysus; a jest might pass at holiday time, and the laughing God +might be well pleased. +</p> + +<p> +But this fellow gets together an upper-class audience, gives long thought to +his preparations, writes down his slanders in a thick notebook, and uplifts his +voice in vituperation of Plato, Pythagoras, Aristotle, Chrysippus, and in short +all of us; <i>he</i> cannot plead holiday time, nor yet any private grievance; +he might perhaps be forgiven if he had done it in self-defence; but it was he +that opened hostilities. Worst of all, Philosophy, he shelters himself under +your name, entices Dialogue from our company to be his ally and mouthpiece, and +induces our good comrade Menippus to collaborate constantly with him; Menippus, +more by token, is the one deserter and absentee on this occasion. +</p> + +<p> +Does he not then abundantly deserve his fate? What conceivable defence is open +to him, after his public defamation of all that is noblest? On the public which +listened to him, too, the spectacle of his condign punishment will have a +healthy effect; we shall see no more ridicule of Philosophy. Tame submission to +insult would naturally enough be taken, not for moderation, but for +insensibility and want of spirit. Who could be expected to put up with his last +performance? He brought us to market like a gang of slaves, and handed us over +to the auctioneer. Some, I believe, fetched high prices; but others went for +four or five pounds, and as for me—confound his impudence, threepence! +And fine fun the audience had out of it! We did well to be angry; we have come +from Hades; and we ask you to give us satisfaction for this abominable outrage. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Resurgents</i>. Hear, hear! well spoken, Diogenes; well and loyally. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. Silence in court! Time the defence. Parrhesiades, it is now your +turn; they are timing you; so proceed. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. Philosophy, Diogenes has been far indeed from exhausting his +material; the greater part of it, and the more strongly expressed, he has +passed by, for reasons best known to himself. I refer to statements of mine +which I am as far from denying that I made as from having provided myself with +any elaborate defence of them. Any of these that have been omitted by him, and +not previously emphasized by myself, I propose now to quote; this will be the +best way to show you who were the persons that I sold by auction and inveighed +against as pretenders and impostors; please to concentrate your vigilance on +the truth or falsehood of my descriptions. If what I say is injurious or +severe, your censure will be more fairly directed at the perpetrators than at +the discoverer of such iniquities. I had no sooner realized the odious +practices which his profession imposes on an advocate—the deceit, +falsehood, bluster, clamour, pushing, and all the long hateful list, than I +fled as a matter of course from these, betook myself to your dear service, +Philosophy, and pleased myself with the thought of a remainder of life spent +far from the tossing waves in a calm haven beneath your shadow. +</p> + +<p> +At my first peep into your realm, how could I but admire yourself and all these +your disciples? there they were, legislating for the perfect life, holding out +hands of help to those that would reach it, commending all that was fairest and +best; fairest and best—but a man must keep straight on for it and never +slip, must set his eyes unwaveringly on the laws that you have laid down, must +tune and test his life thereby; and that, Zeus be my witness, there are few +enough in these days of ours to do. +</p> + +<p> +So I saw how many were in love, not with Philosophy, but with the credit it +brings; in the vulgar externals, so easy for any one to ape, they showed a +striking resemblance to the real article, perfect in beard and walk and attire; +but in life and conduct they belied their looks, read your lessons backwards, +and degraded their profession. Then I was wroth; methought it was as though +some soft womanish actor on the tragic stage should give us Achilles or Theseus +or Heracles himself; he cannot stride nor speak out as a Hero should, but +minces along under his enormous mask; Helen or Polyxena would find him too +realistically feminine to pass for them; and what shall an invincible Heracles +say? Will he not swiftly pound man and mask together into nothingness with his +club, for womanizing and disgracing him? +</p> + +<p> +Well, these people were about as fit to represent you, and the degradation of +it all was too much for me. Apes daring to masquerade as heroes! emulators of +the ass at Cyme! The Cymeans, you know, had never seen ass or lion; so the ass +came the lion over them, with the aid of a borrowed skin and his most +awe-inspiring bray; however, a stranger who had often seen both brought the +truth to light with a stick. But what most distressed me, Philosophy, was this: +when one of these people was detected in rascality, impropriety, or immorality, +every one put it down to philosophy, and to the particular philosopher whose +name the delinquent took in vain without ever acting on his principles; the +living rascal disgraced you, the long dead; for you were not there in the flesh +to point the contrast; so, as it was clear enough that <i>his</i> life was vile +and disgusting, your case was given away by association with his, and you had +to share his disgrace. +</p> + +<p> +This spectacle, I say, was too much for me; I began exposing them, and +distinguishing between them and you; and for this good work you now arraign me. +So then, if I find one of the Initiated betraying and parodying the Mysteries +of the two Goddesses, and if I protest and denounce him, the transgression will +be mine? There is something wrong there; why, at the Games, if an actor who has +to present Athene or Posidon or Zeus plays his part badly, derogating from the +divine dignity, the stewards have him whipped; well, the Gods are not angry +with them for having the officers whip the man who wears their mask and their +attire; I imagine they approve of the punishment. To play a slave or a +messenger badly is a trifling offence, but to represent Zeus or Heracles to the +spectators in an unworthy manner—that is a crime and a sacrilege. +</p> + +<p> +I can indeed conceive nothing more extraordinary than that so many of them +should get themselves absolutely perfect in your words, and then live precisely +as if the sole object of reading and studying them had been to reverse them in +practice. All their professions of despising wealth and appearances, of +admiring nothing but what is noble, of superiority to passion, of being proof +against splendour, and associating with its owners only on equal +terms—how fair and wise and laudable they all are! But they take pay for +imparting them, they are abashed in presence of the rich, their lips water at +sight of coin; they are dogs for temper, hares for cowardice, apes for +imitativeness, asses for lust, cats for thievery, cocks for jealousy. They are +a perfect laughing-stock with their strivings after vile ends, their jostling +of each other at rich men’s doors, their attendance at crowded dinners, and +their vulgar obsequiousness at table. They swill more than they should and +would like to swill more than they do, they spoil the wine with unwelcome and +untimely disquisitions, and they cannot carry their liquor. The ordinary people +who are present naturally flout them, and are revolted by the philosophy which +breeds such brutes. +</p> + +<p> +What is so monstrous is that every man of them says he has no needs, proclaims +aloud that wisdom is the only wealth, and directly afterwards comes begging and +makes a fuss if he is refused; it would hardly be stranger to see one in kingly +attire, with tall tiara, crown, and all the attributes of royalty, asking his +inferiors for a little something more. When they want to get something, we hear +a great deal, to be sure, about community of goods—how wealth is a thing +indifferent—and what is gold and silver?—neither more nor less +worth than pebbles on the beach. But when an old comrade and tried friend needs +help and comes to them with his modest requirements, ah, then there is silence +and searchings of heart, unlearning of tenets and flat renunciation of +doctrines. All their fine talk of friendship, with Virtue and The Good, have +vanished and flown, who knows whither? they were winged words in sad truth, +empty phantoms, only meant for daily conversational use. +</p> + +<p> +These men are excellent friends so long as there is no gold or silver for them +to dispute the possession of; exhibit but a copper or two, and peace is broken, +truce void, armistice ended; their books are blank, their Virtue fled, and they +so many dogs; some one has flung a bone into the pack, and up they spring to +bite each other and snarl at the one which has pounced successfully. There is a +story of an Egyptian king who taught some apes the sword-dance; the imitative +creatures very soon picked it up, and used to perform in purple robes and +masks; for some time the show was a great success, till at last an ingenious +spectator brought some nuts in with him and threw them down. The apes forgot +their dancing at the sight, dropped their humanity, resumed their apehood, and, +smashing masks and tearing dresses, had a free fight for the provender. Alas +for the <i>corps de ballet</i> and the gravity of the audience! +</p> + +<p> +These people are just those apes; it is they that I reviled; and I shall never +cease exposing and ridiculing them; but about you and your like—for there +<i>are</i>, in spite of all, some true lovers of philosophy and keepers of your +laws—about you or them may I never be mad enough to utter an injurious or +rude word! Why, what could I find to say? what is there in your lives that +lends itself to such treatment? but those pretenders deserve my detestation, as +they have that of heaven. Why, tell me, all of you, what have such creatures to +do with you? Is there a trace in their lives of kindred and affinity? Does oil +mix with water? If they grow their beards and call themselves philosophers and +look solemn, do these things make them like you? I could have contained myself +if there had been any touch of plausibility in their acting; but the vulture is +more like the nightingale than they like philosophers. And now I have pleaded +my cause to the best of my ability. Truth, I rely upon you to confirm my words. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. Parrhesiades, retire to a further distance. Well, and our +verdict? How think you the man has spoken? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Truth</i>. Ah, Philosophy, while he was speaking I was ready to sink through +the ground; it was all so true. As I listened, I could identify every offender, +and I was fitting caps all the time—this is so-and-so, that is the other +man, all over. I tell you they were all as plain as in a picture—speaking +likenesses not of their bodies only, but of their very souls. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tem</i>. Yes, Truth, I could not help blushing at it. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. What say you, gentlemen? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Res</i>. Why, of course, that he is acquitted of the charge, and stands +recorded as our friend and benefactor. Our case is just that of the Trojans, +who entertained the tragic actor only to find him reciting their own +calamities. Well, recite away, our tragedian, with these pests of ours for +dramatis personae. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. I too, Philosophy, give him my need of praise; I withdraw my +charges, and count him a worthy friend. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. I congratulate you, Parrhesiades; you are unanimously acquitted, +and are henceforth one of us. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. Your humble servant. Or no, I must find more tragic words to fit +the solemnity of the occasion: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Victorious might<br/> + My life’s path light,<br/> + And ever strew with garlands bright!<br/> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Vir</i>. Well, now we come to our second course; let us have in the other +people and try them for their insults. Parrhesiades shall accuse them each in +turn. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. Well said, Virtue. Syllogism, my boy, put your head out over the +city and summon the philosophers. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Syl</i>. Oyez, oyez! All philosophers to the Acropolis to make their defence +before Virtue, Philosophy, and Justice. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. The proclamation does not bring them in flocks, does it? They have +their reasons for keeping clear of Justice. And a good many of them are too +busy with their rich friends. If you want them all to come, Syllogism, I will +tell you what to say. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. No, no; call them yourself, Parrhesiades, in your own way. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. Quite a simple matter. Oyez, oyez! All who profess philosophy and +hold themselves entitled to the name of philosopher shall appear on the +Acropolis for largesse; 8 pounds, with a sesame cake, to each. A long beard +shall qualify for a square of compressed figs, in addition. Every applicant to +have with him, of temperance, justice, and self-control, any that he is in +possession of, it being clearly understood that these are not indispensable, +and, of syllogisms, a complete set of five, these being the condition precedent +of wisdom. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Two golden talents in the midst are set,<br/> + His prize who wrangles best amongst his peers.<br/> +</p> + +<p> +Just look! the ascent packed with a pushing crowd, at the very first sound of +my 8 pounds. More of them along the Pelasgicum, more by the temple of +Asclepius, a bigger crowd still over the Areopagus. Why, positively there are a +few at the tomb of Talos; and see those putting ladders against the temple of +Castor and Pollux; up they climb, buzzing and clustering like a swarm of bees. +In Homeric phrase, on this side are exceeding many, and on that +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Ten thousand, thick as leaves and flowers in spring. +</p> + +<p> +Noisily they settle, the Acropolis is covered with them in a trice; everywhere +wallet and beard, flattery and effrontery, staves and greed, logic and avarice. +The little company which came up at the first proclamation is swamped beyond +recovery, swallowed up in these later crowds; it is hopeless to find them, +because of the external resemblance. That is the worst of it, Philosophy; you +are really open to censure for not marking and labelling them; these impostors +are often more convincing than the true philosophers. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. It shall be done before long; at present let us receive them. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Platon</i>. Platonists first! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pyth</i>. No, no; Pythagoreans first; our master is senior. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Stoics</i>. Rubbish! the Porch is the best. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Peri</i>. Now, now, this is a question of money; Peripatetics first there! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Epic</i>. Hand over those cakes and fig-squares; as to the money, Epicureans +will not mind waiting till the last. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Acad</i>. Where are the two talents? none can touch the Academy at a +wrangle; we will soon show you that. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Stoics</i>. Not if we know it. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. Cease your strife. Cynics there, no more pushing! And keep those +sticks quiet. You have mistaken the nature of this summons. We three, +Philosophy, Virtue, and Truth, are about to decide which are the true +philosophers; that done, those whose lives are found to be in accord with our +pleasure will be made happy by our award; but the impostors who are not truly +of our kin we shall crush as they deserve, that they may no more make vain +claims to what is too high for them. Ha! you fly? In good truth they do, +jumping down the crags, most of them. Why, the Acropolis is deserted, except +for—yes, a few have stood their ground and are not afraid of the +judgement. +</p> + +<p> +Attendants, pick up the wallet which yonder flying Cynic has dropped. Let us +see what it contains—beans? a book? some coarse crust? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. Oh dear no. Here is gold; some scent; a mirror; dice. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. Ah, good honest man! such were his little necessaries for the +philosophic life, such his title to indulge in general abuse and instruct his +neighbours. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. There you have them. The problem before you is, how the general +ignorance is to be dispersed, and other people enabled to discriminate between +the genuine and the other sort. Find the solution, Truth; for indeed it +concerns you; Falsehood must not prevail; shall Ignorance shield the base while +they counterfeit the good, and you never know it? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Truth</i>. I think we had better give Parrhesiades this commission; he has +been shown an honest man, our friend and your true admirer, Philosophy. Let him +take Exposure with him and have interviews with all who profess philosophy; any +genuine scion that he finds let him crown with olive and entertain in the +Banqueting Hall; and for the rascals—ah, how many!—who are only +costume philosophers, let him pull their cloaks off them, clip their beards +short with a pair of common goatshears, and mark their foreheads or brand them +between the eyebrows; the design on the branding iron to be a fox or an ape. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. Well planned, Truth. And, Parrhesiades, here is a test for you; +you know how young eagles are supposed to be tested by the sun; well, our +candidates have not got to satisfy us that they can look at light, of course; +but put gold, fame, and pleasure before their eyes; when you see one remain +unconscious and unattracted, there is your man for the olive; but when one +looks hard that way, with a motion of his hand in the direction of the gold, +first off with his beard, and then off with him to the brander. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. I will follow your instructions, Philosophy; you will soon find a +large majority ornamented with fox or ape, and very few with olive. If you +like, though, I will get some of them up here for you to see. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. What do you mean? bring them back after that stampede? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. Oh yes, if the priestess will lend me the line I see there and the +Piraean fisherman’s votive hook; I will not keep them long. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Priestess</i>. You can have them; and the rod to complete the equipment. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. Thanks; now quickly, please, a few dried figs and a handful of +gold. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Priestess</i>. There. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. What <i>is</i> all this about? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Priestess</i>. He has baited his hook with the figs and gold, and is sitting +on the parapet dangling it over the city. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. What <i>are</i> you doing, Parrhesiades? do you think you are +going to fish up stones from the Pelasgicum? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. Hush! I wait till I get a bite. Posidon, the fisherman’s friend, +and you, dear Amphitrite, send me good fishing! +</p> + +<p> +Ah, a fine bass; no, it is not; it is a gilthead. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Expo</i>. A shark, you mean; there, see, he is getting near the hook, +open-mouthed too. He scents the gold; now he is close—touching—he +has it; up with him! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. Give me a hand with the line, Exposure; here he is. Now, my best of +fishes, what do we make of you? <i>Salmo Cynicus</i>, that is what <i>you</i> +are. Good gracious, what teeth! Aha, my brave fish, caught snapping up trifles +in the rocks, where you thought you could lurk unobserved? But now you shall +hang by the gills for every one to look at you. Pull out hook and bait. Why, +the hook is bare; he has not been long assimilating the figs, eh? and the gold +has gone down too. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. Make him disgorge; we want the bait for some more. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. There, then. Now, Diogenes, do you know who it is? has the fellow +anything to do with you? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. Nothing whatever. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. Well, what do you put him at? threepence was the price fixed the +other day. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. Too much. His flavour and his looks are intolerable—a coarse +worthless brute. Drop him head first over the rock, and catch another. But take +care your rod does not bend to breaking point. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. No fear; they are quite light—about the weight of a gudgeon. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. About the weight and about the wit. However, up with them. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. Look; what is this one? a sole? flat as a plate, thin as one of his +own fillets; he gapes for the hook; down it goes; we have him; up he comes. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. What is he? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Expo</i>. His plateship would be a Platonist. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. You too after the gold, villain? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. Well, Plato? what shall we do with him? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Pl</i>. Off with him from the same rock. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Diog</i>. Try again. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. Ah, here is a lovely one coming, as far as one can judge in deep +water, all the colours of the rainbow, with gold bars across the back. Do you +see, Exposure? this is the sham Aristotle. There he is; no, he has shied. He is +having a good look round; here he comes again; his jaws open; caught! haul up. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ar</i>. You need not apply to me; I do not know him. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. Very well, Aristotle; over he goes. +</p> + +<p> +Hullo! I see a whole school of them together, all one colour, and covered with +spines and horny scales, as tempting to handle as a hedgehog. We want a net for +these; but we have not got one. Well, it will do if we pull up one out of the +lot. The boldest of them will no doubt try the hook. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Expo</i>. You had better sheathe a good bit of the line before you let it +down; else he will gorge the gold and then saw the line through. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. There it goes. Posidon grant me a quick catch! There now! they are +fighting for the bait, a lot of them together nibbling at the figs, and others +with their teeth well in the gold. That is right; one soundly hooked. Now let +me see, what do <i>you</i> call yourself? And yet how absurd to try and make a +fish speak; they are dumb. Exposure, tell us who is his master, +</p> + +<p> +<i>Expo</i>. Chrysippus. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. Ah, he must have a master with gold in his name, must he? +Chrysippus, tell me seriously, do you know these men? are you responsible for +the way they live? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ch</i>. My dear Parrhesiades, I take it ill that you should suggest any +connexion between me and such creatures. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. Quite right, and like you. Over he goes head first like the others; +if one tried to eat him, those spines might stick in one’s throat. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Philos</i>. You have fished long enough, Parrhesiades; there are so many of +them, one might get away with gold, hook and all, and you have the priestess to +pay. Let us go for our usual stroll; and for all you it is time to be getting +back to your place, if you are not to outstay your leave. Parrhesiades, you and +Exposure can go the rounds now, and crown or brand as I told you. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. Good, Philosophy. Farewell, ye best of men. Come, Exposure, to our +commission. Where shall we go first? the Academy, do you think, or the Porch? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Expo</i>. We will begin with the Lyceum. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Par</i>. Well, it makes no difference. I know well enough that wherever we +go there will be few crowns wanted, and a good deal of branding. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +H. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap17"></a>VOYAGE TO THE LOWER WORLD</h3> + +<p> +<i>Charon. Clotho. Hermes. Shades. Rhadamanthus. Tisiphone. Lamp. Bed</i> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cha</i>. You see how it is, Clotho; here has all been ship-shape and ready +for a start this long time; the hold baled out, the mast stepped, the sail +hoisted, every oar in its rowlock; it is no fault of mine that we don’t weigh +anchor and sail. ’Tis Hermes keeps us; he should have been here long ago. Not a +passenger on board, as you may see; and we might have made the trip three times +over by this. Evening is coming on now; and never a penny taken all day! I know +how it will be: Pluto will think <i>I</i> have been wanting to my work. It is +not I that am to blame, but our fine gentleman of a supercargo. He is just like +any mortal: he has taken a drink of their Lethe up there, and forgotten to come +back to us. He’ll be wrestling with the lads, or playing on his lyre, or giving +his precious gift of the gab a good airing; or he’s off after plunder, the +rascal, for what I know: ’tis all in the day’s work with him. He is getting too +independent: he ought to remember that he belongs to us, one half of him. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. Well, well, Charon; perhaps he has been busy: Zeus may have had +some particular occasion for his services in the upper world; <i>he</i> has the +use of him too, remember. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cha</i>. That doesn’t say that he should make use of him beyond what’s +reasonable. Hermes is common property. We have never kept him here when he was +due to go. No, I know what it is. In these parts of ours all is mist and gloom +and darkness, and nothing to be had but asphodel and libations and sacrificial +cakes and meats. Yonder in Heaven, all’s bright, with plenty of ambrosia, and +no end of nectar. Small wonder that he likes to loiter there. When he leaves +us, ’tis on wings; it is as though he escaped from prison. But when the time +comes for return, he tramps it on foot, and has much ado to get here at all. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. Well, never mind now; here he comes, look, and a fine host of +passengers with him; a fine flock, rather; he hustles them along with his staff +like so many goats. But what’s this? One of them is bound, and another enjoying +the joke; and there is one with a wallet slung beside him, and a stick in his +hand; a cantankerous-looking fellow; he keeps the rest moving. And just look at +Hermes! Bathed in perspiration, and his feet covered with dust! See how he +pants; he is quite out of breath. What is the matter, Hermes? Tell us all about +it; you seem disturbed. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. The matter is that this rascal ran away; I had to go after him, and +had well nigh played you false for this trip, I can tell you. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. Why, who is he? What did he want to run away for? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. His motive is sufficiently clear: he had a preference for remaining +alive. He is some king or tyrant, as I gather from his piteous allusions to +blessedness no longer his. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. And the fool actually tried to run away, and thought to prolong his +life when the thread of Fate was exhausted? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Tried! He would have got clean away, but for that capital fellow +there with the club; he gave me a hand, and we caught and bound him. The whole +way along, from the moment that Atropus handed him over to me, he dragged and +hung back, and dug his heels into the ground: it was no easy work getting him +along. Every now and then he would take to prayers and entreaties: Would I let +him go just for a few minutes? he would make it worth my while. Of course I was +not going to do that; it was out of the question.—Well, we had actually +got to the very pit’s mouth, when somehow or other this double-dyed knave +managed to slip off, whilst I was telling over the Shades to Aeacus, as usual, +and he checking them by your sister’s invoice. The consequence was, we were one +short of tally. Aeacus raised his eyebrows. ‘Hermes,’ he said, ‘everything in +its right place: no larcenous work here, please. You play enough of those +tricks in Heaven. We keep strict accounts here: nothing escapes us. The invoice +says 1,004; there it is in black and white. You have brought me one short, +unless you say that Atropus was too clever for you.’ I coloured up at that; and +then all at once I remembered what had happened on the way, and when I looked +round and this fellow was nowhere to be seen, I knew that he must have made +off, and I set off after him along the road to the upper world, as fast as I +could go. My worthy friend here volunteered for the service; so we made a race +of it, and caught the runaway just as he got to Taenarum! It was a near thing. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. There now, Charon! And we were beginning to accuse Hermes of +neglect. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cha</i>. Well, and why are we waiting here, as if there had not been enough +delay already? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. True. Let them come aboard. I’ll to my post by the gangway, with my +notebook, and take their names and countries as they come up, and details of +their deaths; and you can stow them away as you get them.—Hermes, let us +have those babies in first; I shall get nothing out of them. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Here, skipper. Three hundred of them, including those that were +exposed. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cha</i>. A precious haul, on my word!—These are but green grapes, +Hermes. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Who next, Clotho? The Unwept? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. Ah! I take you.—Yes, up with the old fellows. I have no time +to-day for prehistoric research. All over sixty, pass on! What’s the matter +with them? They don’t hear me; they are deaf with age. I think you will have to +pick them up, like the babies, and get them along that way. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Here they are; fine well-matured fruit, gathered in due season; +three hundred and ninety-eight of them. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cha</i>. Nay, nay; these are no better than raisins. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. Bring up the wounded next, Hermes. <i>Now</i> I can get to work. +Tell me how you were killed. Or no; I had better look at my notes, and call you +over. Eighty-four due to be killed in battle yesterday, in Mysia, These to +include Gobares, son of Oxyartes. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Adsunt. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. The seven who killed themselves for love. Also Theagenes, the +philosopher, for love of the Megarian courtesan. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Here they are, look. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. And the rival claimants to thrones, who slew one another? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Here! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. And the one murdered by his wife and her paramour? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Straight in front of you. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. Now the victims of the law,—the cudgelled and the crucified. +And where are those sixteen who were killed by robbers? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Here; you may know them by their wounds. Am I to bring the women +too? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. Yes, certainly; and all who were shipwrecked; it is the same kind +of death. And those who died of fever, bring them too, the doctor Agathocles +and all. Then there was a Cynic philosopher, who was to have succumbed to a +dinner with Dame Hecate, eked out with sacrificial eggs and a raw cuttlefish; +where is he? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cy</i>. Here I stand this long time, my good Clotho.—Now what had I +done to deserve such a weary spell of life? You gave me pretty nearly a +spindleful of it. I often tried to cut the thread and away; but somehow it +never would give. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. I left you as a censor and physician of human frailties; pass on, +and good luck to you. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cy</i>. No, by Zeus! First let us see our captive safe on board. Your +judgement might be perverted by his entreaties. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. Let me see; who is he? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Megapenthes, son of Lacydes; tyrant. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. Come up, Megapenthes. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Nay, nay, my lady Clotho; suffer me to return for a little while, +and I will come of my own accord, without waiting to be summoned. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. What do you want to go for? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. I crave permission to complete my palace; I left the building +half-finished. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. Pooh! Come along. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Oh Fate, I ask no long reprieve. Vouchsafe me this one day, that I +may inform my wife where my great treasure lies buried. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. Impossible. ’Tis Fate’s decree. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. And all that money is to be thrown away? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. Not thrown away. Be under no uneasiness. Your cousin Megacles will +take charge of it. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Oh, monstrous! My enemy, whom from sheer good nature I omitted to +put to death? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. The same. He will survive you for rather more than forty years; in +the full enjoyment of your harem, your wardrobe, and your treasure. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. It is too bad of you, Clotho, to hand over my property to my worst +enemy. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. My dear sir, it was Cydimachus’s property first, surely? You only +succeeded to it by murdering him, and butchering his children before his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Yes, but it was mine after that. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. Well, and now your term of possession expires. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. A word in your ear, madam; no one else must hear this.—Sirs, +withdraw for a space.—Clotho, if you will let me escape, I pledge myself +to give you a quarter of a million sterling this very day. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. Ha, ha! So your millions are still running in your head? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Shall I throw in the two mixing-bowls that I got by the murder of +Cleocritus? They weigh a couple of tons apiece; refined gold! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. Drag him up. We shall never get him to come on board by himself. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. I call you all to witness! My city-wall, my docks, remain +unfinished. I only wanted five days more to complete them. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. Never mind. It will be another’s work now. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Stay! One request I can make with a clear conscience. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. Well? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Suffer me only to complete the conquest of Persia; … and to impose +tribute on Lydia; … and erect a colossal monument to myself, … and inscribe +thereon the military achievements of my life. Then let me die. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. Creature, this is no single day’s reprieve: you would want +something like twenty years. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Oh, but I am quite prepared to give security for my expeditious +return. Nay, I could provide a substitute, if preferred—my well-beloved! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. Wretch! How often have you prayed that he might survive you! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. That was a long time ago. Now,—I see a better use for him. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. But he is due to be here, shortly, let me tell you. He is to be put +to death by the new sovereign. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Well, Clotho, I hope you will not refuse my last request. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. Which is? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. I should like to know how things will be, now that I am gone. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. Certainly; you shall have that mortification. Your wife will pass +into the hands of Midas, your slave; he has been her gallant for some time +past. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. A curse on him! ’Twas at her request that I gave him his freedom. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. Your daughter will take her place in the harem of the present +monarch. Then all the old statues and portraits which the city set up in your +honour will be overturned,—to the entertainment, no doubt, of the +spectators. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. And will no friend resent these doings? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. Who was your friend? Who had any reason to be? Need I explain that +the cringing courtiers who lauded your every word and deed were actuated either +by hope or by fear—time-servers every man of them, with a keen eye to the +main chance? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. And these are they whose feasts rang with my name! who, as they +poured their libations, invoked every blessing on my head! Not one but would +have died before me, could he have had his will; nay, they swore by no other +name. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. Yes; and you dined with one of them yesterday, and it cost you your +life. It was that last cup you drank that brought you here. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Ah, I noticed a bitter taste.—But what was his object? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. Oh, you want to know too much. It is high time you came on board. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Clotho, I had a particular reason for desiring one more glimpse of +daylight. I have a burning grievance! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. And what is that? Something of vast importance, I make no doubt. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. It is about my slave Carion. The moment he knew of my death, he came +up to the room where I lay; it was late in the evening; he had plenty of time +in front of him, for not a soul was watching by me; he brought with him my +concubine Glycerium (an old affair, this, I suspect), closed the door, and +proceeded to take his pleasure with her, as if no third person had been in the +room! Having satisfied the demands of passion, he turned his attention to me. +‘You little villain,’ he cried, ‘many’s the flogging I’ve had from you, for no +fault of mine!’ And as he spoke he plucked out my hair and smote me on the +face. ‘Away with you,’ he cried finally, spitting on me, ‘away to the place of +the damned!’—and so withdrew. I burned with resentment: but there I lay +stark and cold, and could do nothing. That baggage Glycerium, too, hearing +footsteps approaching, moistened her eyes and pretended she had been weeping +for me; and withdrew sobbing, and repeating my name.—If I could but get +hold of them— +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. Never mind what you would do to them, but come on board. The hour +is at hand when you must appear before the tribunal. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. And who will presume to give his vote against a tyrant? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. Against a tyrant, who indeed? Against a Shade, Rhadamanthus will +take that liberty. He is strictly impartial, as you will presently observe, in +adapting his sentences to the requirements of individual cases. And now, no +more delay. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Dread Fate, let me be some common man,—some pauper! I have +been a king,—let me be a slave! Only let me live! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. Where is the one with the stick? Hermes, you and he must drag him +up feet foremost. He will never come up by himself. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Come along, my runagate. Here you are, skipper. And I say, keep an +eye— +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cha</i>. Never fear. We’ll lash him to the mast. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Look you, I must have the seat of honour. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. And why exactly? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. Can you ask? Was I not a tyrant, with a guard of ten thousand men? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cy</i>. Oh, dullard! And you complain of Carion’s pulling your hair! Wait +till you get a taste of this stick; you shall know what it is to be a tyrant. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. What, shall a Cynic dare to raise his staff against me? Sirrah, have +you forgotten the other day, when I had all but nailed you to the cross, for +letting that sharp censorious tongue of yours wag too freely? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cynic</i>. Well, and now it is your turn to be nailed,—to the mast. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mi</i>. And what of me, mistress? Am I to be left out of the reckoning? +Because I am poor, must I be the last to come aboard? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. Who are you? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mi</i>. Micyllus the cobbler. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. A cobbler, and cannot wait your turn? Look at the tyrant: see what +bribes he offers us, only for a short reprieve. It is very strange that delay +is not to your fancy too. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mi</i>. It is this way, my lady Fate. I find but cold comfort in that +promise of the Cyclops: ‘Outis shall be eaten last,’ said he; but first or +last, the same teeth are waiting. And then, it is not the same with me as with +the rich. Our lives are what they call ‘diametrically opposed.’ This tyrant, +now, was thought happy while he lived; he was feared and respected by all: he +had his gold and his silver; his fine clothes and his horses and his banquets; +his smart pages and his handsome ladies,—and had to leave them all. No +wonder if he was vexed, and felt the tug of parting. For I know not how it is, +but these things are like birdlime: a man’s soul sticks to them, and will not +easily come away; they have grown to be a part of him. Nay, ’tis as if men were +bound in some chain that nothing can break; and when by sheer force they are +dragged away, they cry out and beg for mercy. They are bold enough for aught +else, but show them this same road to Hades, and they prove to be but cowards. +They turn about, and must ever be looking back at what they have left behind +them, far off though it be,—like men that are sick for love. So it was +with the fool yonder: as we came along, he was for running away; and now he +tires you with his entreaties. As for me, I had no stake in life; lands and +horses, money and goods, fame, statues,—I had none of them; I could not +have been in better trim: it needed but one nod from Atropus,—I was +busied about a boot at the time, but down I flung knife and leather with a +will, jumped up, and never waited to get my shoes, or wash the blacking from my +hands, but joined the procession there and then, ay, and headed it, looking +ever forward; I had left nothing behind me that called for a backward glance. +And, on my word, things begin to look well already. Equal rights for all, and +no man better than his neighbour; that is hugely to my liking. And from what I +can learn there is no collecting of debts in this country, and no taxes; better +still, no shivering in winter, no sickness, no hard knocks from one’s betters. +All is peace. The tables are turned: the laugh is with us poor men; it is the +rich that make moan, and are ill at ease. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. To be sure, I noticed that you were laughing, some time ago. What +was it in particular that excited your mirth? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mi</i>. I’ll tell you, best of Goddesses. Being next door to a tyrant up +there, I was all eyes for what went on in his house; and he seemed to me +neither more nor less than a God. I saw the embroidered purple, the host of +courtiers, the gold, the jewelled goblets, the couches with their feet of +silver: and I thought, this is happiness. As for the sweet savour that arose +when his dinner was getting ready, it was too much for me; such blessedness +seemed more than human. And then his proud looks and stately walk and high +carriage, striking admiration into all beholders! It seemed almost as if he +must be handsomer than other men, and a good eighteen inches taller. But when +he was dead, he made a queer figure, with all his finery gone; though I laughed +more at myself than at him: there had I been worshipping mere scum on no better +authority than the smell of roast meat, and reckoning happiness by the blood of +Lacedaemonian sea-snails! There was Gniphon the usurer, too, bitterly +reproaching himself for having died without ever knowing the taste of wealth, +leaving all his money to his nearest relation and heir-at-law, the spendthrift +Rhodochares, when he might have had the enjoyment of it himself. When I saw +him, I laughed as if I should never stop: to think of him as he used to be, +pale, wizened, with a face full of care, his fingers the only rich part of him, +for they had the talents to count,—scraping the money together bit by +bit, and all to be squandered in no time by that favourite of Fortune, +Rhodochares!—But what are we waiting for now? There will be time enough +on the voyage to enjoy their woebegone faces, and have our laugh out. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. Come on board, and then the ferryman can haul up the anchor. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cha</i>. Now, now! What are you doing here? The boat is full. You wait till +to-morrow. We can bring you across in the morning. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mi</i>. What right have you to leave me behind,—a shade of twenty-four +hours’ standing? I tell you what it is, I shall have you up before +Rhadamanthus. A plague on it, she’s moving! And here I shall be left all by +myself. Stay, though: why not swim across in their wake? No matter if I get +tired; a dead man will scarcely be drowned. Not to mention that I have not a +penny to pay my fare. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. Micyllus! Stop! You must not come across that way; Heaven forbid! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mi</i>. Ha, ha! I shall get there first, and I shouldn’t wonder. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. This will never do. We must get to him, and pick him up…. Hermes, +give him a hand up. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cha</i>. And where is he to sit now he is here? We are full up, as you may +see. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. What do you say to the tyrant’s shoulders? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. A good idea that. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cha</i>. Up with you then; and make the rascal’s back ache. And now, good +luck to our voyage! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cy</i>. Charon, I may as well tell you the plain truth at once. The penny +for my fare is not forthcoming; I have nothing but my wallet, look, and this +stick. But if you want a hand at baling, here I am; or I could take an oar; +only give me a good stout one, and you shall have no fault to find with me. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cha</i>. To it, then; and I’ll ask no other payment of you. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cy</i>. Shall I tip them a stave? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cha</i>. To be sure, if you have a sea-song about you. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cy</i>. I have several. Look here though, an opposition is starting: a song +of lamentation. It will throw me out. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sh</i>. Oh, my lands, my lands!—Ah, my money, my +money!—Farewell, my fine palace!—The thousands that fellow will +have to squander!—Ah, my helpless children!—To think of the vines I +planted last year! Who, ah who, will pluck the grapes?—- +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Why, Micyllus, have <i>you</i> never an Oh or an Ah? It is quite +improper that any shade should cross the stream, and make no moan. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mi</i>. Get along with you. What have I to do with Ohs and Ahs? I’m enjoying +the trip! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Still, just a groan or two. It’s expected. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mi</i>. Well, if I must, here goes.—Farewell, leather, farewell! Ah, +Soles, old Soles!—Oh, ancient Boots!—Woe’s me! Never again shall I +sit empty from morn till night; never again walk up and down, of a winter’s +day, naked, unshod, with chattering teeth! My knife, my awl, will be another’s: +whose, ah! whose? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Yes, that will do. We are nearly there. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cha</i>. Wait a bit! Fares first, please. Your fare, Micyllus; every one +else has paid; one penny. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mi</i>. You don’t expect to get a penny out of the poor cobbler? You’re +joking, Charon; or else this is what they call a ‘castle in the air.’ I know +not whether your penny is square or round. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cha</i>. A fine paying trip this, I must say! However,—all ashore! I +must fetch the horses, cows, dogs, and other livestock. Their turn comes now. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Clo</i>. You can take charge of them for the rest of the way, Hermes. I am +crossing again to see after the Chinamen, Indopatres and Heramithres. They have +been fighting about boundaries, and have killed one another by this time. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Come, shades, let us get on;—follow me, I mean, in single +file. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mi</i>. Bless me, how dark it is! Where is handsome Megillus <i>now</i>? +There would be no telling Simmiche from Phryne. All complexions are alike here, +no question of beauty, greater or less. Why, the cloak I thought so shabby +before passes muster here as well as royal purple; the darkness hides both +alike. Cyniscus, whereabouts are you? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cy</i>. Use your ears; here I am. We might walk together. What do you say? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mi</i>. Very good; give me your hand.—I suppose you have been admitted +to the mysteries at Eleusis? That must have been something like this, I should +think? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cy</i>. Pretty much. Look, here comes a torch-bearer; a grim, forbidding +dame. A Fury, perhaps? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mi</i>. She looks like it, certainly. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Here they are, Tisiphone. One thousand and four. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ti</i>. It is time we had them. Rhadamanthus has been waiting. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Rhad</i>. Bring them up, Tisiphone. Hermes, you call out their names as they +are wanted. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cy</i>. Rhadamanthus, as you love your father Zeus, have me up first for +examination. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Rhad</i>. Why? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cy</i>. There is a certain shade whose misdeeds on earth I am anxious to +denounce. And if my evidence is to be worth anything, you must first be +satisfied of my own character and conduct. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Rhad</i>. Who are you? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cy</i>. Cyniscus, your worship; a student of philosophy. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Rhad</i>. Come up for judgement; I will take you first. Hermes, summon the +accusers. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. If any one has an accusation to bring against Cyniscus here +present, let him come forward. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cy</i>. No one stirs! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Rhad</i>. Ah, but that is not enough, my friend. Off with your clothes; I +must have a look at your brands. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cy</i>. Brands? Where will you find them? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Rhad</i>. Never yet did mortal man sin, but he carried about the secret +record thereof, branded on his soul. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cy</i>. Well, here I am stripped. Now for the ‘brands.’ +</p> + +<p> +<i>Rhad</i>. Clean from head to heel, except three or four very faint marks, +scarcely to be made out. Ah! what does this mean? Here is place after place +that tells of the iron; all rubbed out apparently, or cut out. How do you +explain this, Cyniscus? How did you get such a clean skin again? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cy</i>. Why, in old days, when I knew no better, I lived an evil life, and +acquired thereby a number of brands. But from the day that I began to practise +philosophy, little by little I washed out all the scars from my +soul,—thanks to the efficiency of that admirable lotion. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Rhad</i>. Off with you then to the Isles of the Blest, and the excellent +company you will find there. But we must have your impeachment of the tyrant +before you go. Next shade, Hermes! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mi</i>. Mine is a very small affair, too, Rhadamanthus; I shall not keep you +long. I have been stripped all this time; so do take me next. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Rhad</i>. And who may you be? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mi</i>. Micyllus the cobbler. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Rhad</i>. Very well, Micyllus. As clean as clean could be; not a mark +anywhere. You may join Cyniscus. Now the Tyrant. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Megapenthes, son of Lacydes, wanted! Where are you off to? This +way! You there, the Tyrant! Up with him, Tisiphone, neck and crop. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Rhad</i>. Now, Cyniscus, your accusation and your proofs. Here is the party. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cy</i>. There is in fact no need of an accusation. You will very soon know +the man by the marks upon him. My words however may serve to unveil him, and to +show his character in a clearer light. With the conduct of this monster as a +private citizen, I need not detain you. Surrounded with a bodyguard, and aided +by unscrupulous accomplices, he rose against his native city, and established a +lawless rule. The persons put to death by him without trial are to be counted +by thousands, and it was the confiscation of their property that gave him his +enormous wealth. Since then, there is no conceivable iniquity which he has not +perpetrated. His hapless fellow-citizens have been subjected to every form of +cruelty and insult. Virgins have been seduced, boys corrupted, the feelings of +his subjects outraged in every possible way. His overweening pride, his +insolent bearing towards all who had to do with him, were such as no doom of +yours can adequately requite. A man might with more security have fixed his +gaze upon the blazing sun, than upon yonder tyrant. As for the refined cruelty +of his punishments, it baffles description; and not even his familiars were +exempt. That this accusation has not been brought without sufficient grounds, +you may easily satisfy yourself, by summoning the murderer’s +victims.—Nay, they need no summons; see, they are here; they press round +as though they would stifle him. Every man there, Rhadamanthus, fell a prey to +his iniquitous designs. Some had attracted his attention by the beauty of their +wives; others by their resentment at the forcible abduction of their children; +others by their wealth; others again by their understanding, their moderation, +and their unvarying disapproval of his conduct. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Rhad</i>. Villain, what have you to say to this? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Me</i>. I committed the murders referred to. As for the rest, the adulteries +and corruptions and seductions, it is all a pack of lies. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cy</i>. I can bring witnesses to these points too, Rhadamanthus. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Rhad</i>. Witnesses, eh? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cy</i>. Hermes, kindly summon his Lamp and Bed. They will appear in +evidence, and state what they know of his conduct. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Her</i>. Lamp and Bed of Megapenthes, come into court. Good, they respond to +the summons. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Rhad</i>. Now, tell us all you know about Megapenthes. Bed, you speak first. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Bed</i>. All that Cyniscus said is true. But really, Mr. Rhadamanthus, I +don’t quite like to speak about it; such strange things used to happen +overhead. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Rhad</i>. Why, your unwillingness to speak is the most telling evidence of +all!—Lamp, now let us have yours. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Lamp</i>. What went on in the daytime I never saw, not being there. As for +his doings at night, the less said the better. I saw some very queer things, +though, monstrous queer. Many is the time I have stopped taking oil on purpose, +and tried to go out. But then he used to bring me close up. It was enough to +give any lamp a bad character. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Rhad</i>. Enough of verbal evidence. Now, just divest yourself of that +purple, and we will see what you have in the way of brands. Goodness gracious, +the man’s a positive network! Black and blue with them! Now, what punishment +can we give him? A bath in Pyriphlegethon? The tender mercies of Cerberus, +perhaps? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cy</i>. No, no. Allow me,—I have a novel idea; something that will +just suit him. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Rhad</i>. Yes? I shall be obliged to you for a suggestion. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cy</i>. I fancy it is usual for departed spirits to take a draught of the +water of Lethe? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Rhad</i>. Just so. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cy</i>. Let him be the sole exception. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Rhad</i>. What is the idea in that? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cy</i>. His earthly pomp and power for ever in his mind; his fingers ever +busy on the tale of blissful items;—’tis a heavy sentence! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Rhad</i>. True. Be this the tyrant’s doom. Place him in fetters at +Tantalus’s side,—never to forget the things of earth. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +F. +</p> + +<h4>THE END</h4> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORKS OF LUCIAN OF SAMOSATA ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Works, V1 + +Author: Lucian of Samosata + Translated by H. W. Fowler And F. G. Fowler + +Release Date: August, 2004 [EBook #6327] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on November 27, 2002] +Last Updated: May 18, 2016 + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORKS, V1 *** + + + + +Produced by Beth Constantine, Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + +THE WORKS OF LUCIAN OF SAMOSATA + + +Complete with exceptions specified in the preface + + +TRANSLATED BY + +H. W. FOWLER AND F. G. FOWLER + + +IN FOUR VOLUMES + + + +What work nobler than transplanting foreign thought into the barren +domestic soil? except indeed planting thought of your own, which the +fewest are privileged to do.--_Sarlor Resartus_. + +At each flaw, be this your first thought: the author doubtless said +something quite different, and much more to the point. And then you +may hiss _me_ off, if you will.--LUCIAN, _Nigrinus, 9_. + +(LUCIAN) The last great master of Attic eloquence and Attic wit.-- +_Lord Macaulay_. + + +VOLUME I + + + + +PREFACE + + +The text followed in this translation is that of Jacobitz, Teubner, +1901, all deviations from which are noted. + +In the following list of omissions, italics denote that the piece is +marked as spurious both by Dindorf and by Jacobitz. The other +omissions are mainly by way of expurgation. In a very few other +passages some isolated words and phrases have been excised; but it has +not been thought necessary to mark these in the texts by asterisks. + +_Halcyon_; Deorum Dialogi, iv, v, ix, x, xvii, xxii, xxiii; +Dialogi Marini, xiii; Vera Historia, I. 22, II. 19; Alexander, 41,42; +Eunuchus; _De Astrologia_; _Amores_; _Lucius_ sive _Asinus_; +Rhetorum Preceptor, 23; _Hippias_; Adversus Indoctum, 23; +Pseudologista; _Longaevi_; Dialogi Meretricii, v, vi, x; De Syria +Dea; _Philopatris; Charidemus; Nero_; Tragodopodagra; Ocypus; +Epigrammata. + +A word may be said about four pieces that seem to stand apart from the +rest. Of these, the _Trial in the Court of Vowels_ and _A Slip of the +Tongue_ will be interesting only to those who are familiar with Greek. +The _Lexiphanes_ and _A Purist Purized_, satirizing the pedants and +euphuists of Lucian's day, almost defy translation, and they must be +accepted at best as an effort to give the general effect of the +original. + +The _Notes explanatory_ at the end of vol. iv will be used by the +reader at his discretion. Reference is made to them at the foot of the +page only when it is not obvious what name should be consulted. + +The translators take this opportunity of offering their heartiest +thanks to the Delegates of the Clarendon Press for undertaking this +work; and, in particular, to the Vice-Chancellor of Oxford University, +Dr. Merry, who has been good enough to read the proofs, and to give +much valuable advice both on the difficult subject of excision and on +details of style and rendering. In this connexion, however, it should +be added that for the retention of many modern phrases, which may +offend some readers as anachronistic, responsibility rests with the +translators alone. + + + + +CONTENTS of VOL. 1 + + +PREFACE + +INTRODUCTION + +THE VISION + +A LITERARY PROMETHEUS + +NIGRINUS + +TRIAL IN THE COURT OF VOWELS + +TIMON THE MISANTHROPE + +PROMETHEUS ON CAUCASUS + +DIALOGUES OF THE GODS + +i, ii, iii, vi, vii, viii, xi, xii, xiii, xiv, xv, xvi, xviii, xix, +xx, xxi, xxiv, xxv, xxvi. + +DIALOGUES OF THE SEA-GODS + +i, ii, iii, iv, v, vi, vii, viii, ix, x, xi, xii, xiv, xv. + +DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD + +I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, +XVII, XVIII, XIX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII, XXIV, XXV, XXVI, XXVII, +XXVIII, XXIX, XXX. + +MENIPPUS + +CHARON + +OF SACRIFICE + +SALE OF CREEDS + +THE FISHER + +VOYAGE TO THE LOWER WORLD + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +1. LIFE. + +2. PROBABLE ORDER OF WRITINGS. + +3. CIRCUMSTANCES OF THE TIME. + +4. LUCIAN AS A WRITER. + +It is not to be understood that all statements here made are either +ascertained facts or universally admitted conjectures. The +introduction is intended merely to put those who are not scholars, and +probably have not books of reference at hand, in a position to +approach the translation at as little disadvantage as may be. +Accordingly, we give the account that commends itself to us, without +discussion or reference to authorities. Those who would like a more +complete idea of Lucian should read Croiset's _Essai sur la vie et +les oeuvres de Lucien_, on which the first two sections of this +introduction are very largely based. The only objections to the book +(if they are objections) are that it is in French, and of 400 octavo +pages. It is eminently readable. + + + + +1. LIFE + +With the exception of a very small number of statements, of which the +truth is by no means certain, all that we know of Lucian is derived +from his own writings. And any reader who prefers to have his facts at +first rather than at second hand can consequently get them by reading +certain of his pieces, and making the natural deductions from them. +Those that contain biographical matter are, in the order corresponding +to the periods of his life on which they throw light, _The Vision, +Demosthenes, Nigrinus, The Portrait-study_ and _Defence_ (in which +Lucian is _Lycinus_), _The Way to write History, The double ndictment_ +(in which he is _The Syrian_), _The Fisher_ (_Parrhesiades_), _Swans +and Amber, Alexander_, Hermotimus_ (_Lycinus_), _Menippus and +Icaromenippus_ (in which _Menippus_ represents him), _A literary +Prometheus, Herodotus, Zeuxis, Harmonides, The Scythian_, The Death of +Peregrine, The Book-fancier, Demonax, The Rhetorician's Vade mecum, +Dionysus, Heracles, A Slip of the Tongue, Apology for 'The dependent +Scholar.'_ Of these _The Vision_ is a direct piece of autobiography; +there is intentional but veiled autobiography in several of the other +pieces; in others again conclusions can be drawn from comparison of +his statements with facts known from external sources. + +Lucian lived from about 125 to about 200 A.D., under the Roman +Emperors Antoninus Pius, M. Aurelius and Lucius Verus, Commodus, and +perhaps Pertinax. He was a Syrian, born at Samosata on the Euphrates, +of parents to whom it was of importance that he should earn his living +without spending much time or money on education. His maternal uncle +being a statuary, he was apprenticed to him, having shown an aptitude +for modelling in the wax that he surreptitiously scraped from his +school writing-tablets. The apprenticeship lasted one day. It is clear +that he was impulsive all through life; and when his uncle corrected +him with a stick for breaking a piece of marble, he ran off home, +disposed already to think he had had enough of statuary. His mother +took his part, and he made up his mind by the aid of a vision that +came to him the same night. + +It was the age of the rhetoricians. If war was not a thing of the +past, the shadow of the _pax Romana_ was over all the small states, +and the aspiring provincial's readiest road to fame was through words +rather than deeds. The arrival of a famous rhetorician to lecture was +one of the important events in any great city's annals; and Lucian's +works are full of references to the impression these men produced, and +the envy they enjoyed. He himself was evidently consumed, during his +youth and early manhood, with desire for a position like theirs. To +him, sleeping with memories of the stick, appeared two women, +corresponding to _Virtue_ and _Pleasure_ in Prodicus's _Choice of +Heracles_--the working woman _Statuary_, and the lady _Culture_. They +advanced their claims to him in turn; but before _Culture_ had +completed her reply, the choice was made: he was to be a rhetorician. +From her reminding him that she was even now not all unknown to him, +we may perhaps assume that he spoke some sort of Greek, or was being +taught it; but he assures us that after leaving Syria he was still a +barbarian; we have also a casual mention of his offering a lock of his +hair to the Syrian goddess in his youth. + +He was allowed to follow his bent and go to Ionia. Great Ionian cities +like Smyrna and Ephesus were full of admired sophists or teachers of +rhetoric. But it is unlikely that Lucian's means would have enabled +him to become the pupil of these. He probably acquired his skill to a +great extent by the laborious method, which he ironically deprecates +in _The Rhetorician's Vade mecum_, of studying exhaustively the old +Attic orators, poets, and historians. + +He was at any rate successful. The different branches that a +rhetorician might choose between or combine were: (1) Speaking in +court on behalf of a client; (2) Writing speeches for a client to +deliver; (3) Teaching pupils; (4) Giving public displays of his skill. +There is a doubtful statement that Lucian failed in (1), and took to +(2) in default. His surviving rhetorical pieces (_The Tyrannicide, +The Disinherited, Phalaris_) are declamations on hypothetical cases +which might serve either for (3) or (4); and _The Hall, The Fly, +Dipsas_, and perhaps _Demosthenes_, suggest (4). A common form of +exhibition was for a sophist to appear before an audience and let +them propose subjects, of which he must choose one and deliver an +impromptu oration upon it. + +Whatever his exact line was, he earned an income in Ionia, then in +Greece, had still greater success in Italy, and appears to have +settled for some time in Gaul, perhaps occupying a professorial chair +there. The intimate knowledge of Roman life in some aspects which +appears in _The dependent Scholar_ suggests that he also lived some +time in Rome. He seems to have known some Latin, since he could +converse with boatmen on the Po; but his only clear reference (A Slip +of the Tongue,) implies an imperfect knowledge of it; and there is not +a single mention in all his works, which are crammed with literary +allusions, of any Latin author. He claims to have been during his time +in Gaul one of the rhetoricians who could command high fees; and his +descriptions of himself as resigning his place close about his lady's +(i.e. Rhetoric's) person, and as casting off his wife Rhetoric because +she did not keep herself exclusively to him, show that he regarded +himself, or wished to be regarded, as having been at the head of his +profession. + +This brings us to about the year 160 A.D. We may conceive Lucian now +to have had some of that yearning for home which he ascribes in the +_Patriotism_ even to the successful exile. He returned home, we +suppose, a distinguished man at thirty-five, and enjoyed impressing +the fact on his fellow citizens in _The Vision_. He may then have +lived at Antioch as a rhetorician for some years, of which we have a +memorial in _The Portrait-study_. Lucius Verus, M. Aurelius's +colleague, was at Antioch in 162 or 163 A.D. on his way to the +Parthian war, and _The Portrait-study_ is a panegyric on Verus's +mistress Panthea, whom Lucian saw there. + +A year or two later we find him migrating to Athens, taking his father +with him, and at Athens he settled and remained many years. It was on +this journey that the incident occurred, which he relates with such a +curious absence of shame in the _Alexander_, of his biting that +charlatan's hand. + +This change in his manner of life corresponds nearly with the change +in habit of mind and use of his powers that earned him his +immortality. His fortieth year is the date given by himself for his +abandonment of Rhetoric and, as he calls it, taking up with Dialogue, +or, as we might say, becoming a man of letters. Between Rhetoric and +Dialogue there was a feud, which had begun when Socrates five +centuries before had fought his battles with the sophists. Rhetoric +appeals to the emotions and obscures the issues (such had been +Socrates's position); the way to elicit truth is by short question and +answer. The Socratic method, illustrated by Plato, had become, if not +the only, the accredited instrument of philosophers, who, so far as +they are genuine, are truth-seekers; Rhetoric had been left to the +legal persons whose object is not truth but victory. Lucian's +abandonment of Rhetoric was accordingly in some sort his change from a +lawyer to a philosopher. As it turned out, however, philosophy was +itself only a transitional stage with him. + +Already during his career as a rhetorician, which we may put at +145-164 A.D., he seems both to have had leanings to philosophy, and to +have toyed with dialogue. There is reason to suppose that the +Nigrinus_, with its strong contrast between the noise and vulgarity of +Rome and the peace and culture of Athens, its enthusiastic picture of +the charm of philosophy for a sensitive and intelligent spirit, was +written in 150 A.D., or at any rate described an incident that +occurred in that year; and the _Portrait-study_ and its _Defence_, +dialogues written with great care, whatever their other merits, belong +to 162 or 163 A.D. But these had been excursions out of his own +province. After settling at Athens he seems to have adopted the +writing of dialogues as his regular work. The _Toxaris_, a collection +of stories on friendship, strung together by dialogue, the +_Anacharsis_, a discussion on the value of physical training, and the +_Pantomime_, a description slightly relieved by the dialogue form, may +be regarded as experiments with his new instrument. There is no trace +in them of the characteristic use that he afterwards made of dialogue, +for the purposes of satire. + +That was an idea that we may suppose to have occurred to him after the +composition of the _Hermotimus_. This is in form the most philosophic +of his dialogues; it might indeed be a dialogue of Plato, of the +merely destructive kind; but it is at the same time, in matter, his +farewell to philosophy, establishing that the pursuit of it is +hopeless for mortal man. From this time onward, though he always +professes himself a lover of true philosophy, he concerns himself no +more with it, except to expose its false professors. The dialogue that +perhaps comes next, _The Parasite_, is still Platonic in form, but +only as a parody; its main interest (for a modern reader is outraged, +as in a few other pieces of Lucian's, by the disproportion between +subject and treatment) is in the combination for the first time of +satire with dialogue. + +One more step remained to be taken. In the piece called _A literary +Prometheus_, we are told what Lucian himself regarded as his claim +to the title of an original writer. It was the fusing of Comedy and +Dialogue--the latter being the prose conversation hat had hitherto +been confined to philosophical discussion. The new literary form, +then, was conversation, frankly for purposes of entertainment, as in +Comedy, but to be read and not acted. In this kind of writing he +remains, though he has been often imitated, first in merit as clearly +as in time; and nearly all his great masterpieces took this form. They +followed in rapid succession, being all written, perhaps, between 165 +and 175 A.D. And we make here no further comment upon them, except to +remark that they fall roughly into three groups as he drew inspiration +successively from the writers of the New Comedy (or Comedy of ordinary +life) like Menander, from the satires of Menippus, and from writers of +the Old Comedy (or Comedy of fantastic imagination) like Aristophanes. +The best specimens of the first group are _The Liar_ and the +_Dialogues of the Hetaerae;_ of the second, the _Dialogues of the +Dead_ and _of the Gods, Menippus_ and _Icaromenippus, Zeus +cross-examined;_ of the third, _Timon, Charon, A Voyage to the lower +World, The Sale of Creeds, The Fisher, Zeus Tragoedus, The Cock, The +double Indictment, The Ship_. + +During these ten or more years, though he lived at Athens, he is to be +imagined travelling occasionally, to read his dialogues to audiences +in various cities, or to see the Olympic Games. And these excursions +gave occasion to some works not of the dialogue kind; the _Zeuxis_ and +several similar pieces are introductions to series of readings away +from Athens; The _Way to write History_, a piece of literary criticism +still very readable, if out of date for practical purposes, resulted +from a visit to Ionia, where all the literary men were producing +histories of the Parthian war, then in progress (165 A.D.). An +attendance at the Olympic Games of 169 A.D. suggested _The Death of +Peregrine_, which in its turn, through the offence given to Cynics, +had to be supplemented by the dialogue of _The Runaways. The True +History_, most famous, but, admirable as it is, far from best of his +works, presumably belongs to this period also, but cannot be +definitely placed. The _Book-fancier_ and _The Rhetorician's Vade +mecum_ are unpleasant records of bitter personal quarrels. + +After some ten years of this intense literary activity, producing, +reading, and publishing, Lucian seems to have given up both the +writing of dialogues and the presenting of them to audiences, and to +have lived quietly for many years. The only pieces that belong here +are the _Life of Demonax_, the man whom he held the best of all +philosophers, and with whom he had been long intimate at Athens, and +that of Alexander, the Asiatic charlatan, who was the prince of +impostors as Demonax of philosophers. When quite old, Lucian was +appointed by the Emperor Commodus to a well-paid legal post in Egypt. +We also learn, from the new introductory lectures called _Dionysus_ +and _Heracles_, that he resumed the practice of reading his dialogues; +but he wrote nothing more of importance. It is stated in Suidas that +he was torn to pieces by dogs; but, as other statements in the article +are discredited, it is supposed that this is the Christian revenge for +Lucian's imaginary hostility to Christianity. We have it from himself +that he suffered from gout in his old age. He solaced himself +characteristically by writing a play on the subject; but whether the +goddess Gout, who gave it its name, was appeased by it, or carried him +off, we cannot tell. + + + + +2. PROBABLE ORDER OF WRITINGS + + +The received order in which Lucian's works stand is admitted to be +entirely haphazard. The following arrangement in groups is roughly +chronological, though it is quite possible that they overlap each +other. It is M. Croiset's, put into tabular form. Many details in it +are open to question; but to read in this order would at least be more +satisfactory to any one who wishes to study Lucian seriously than to +take the pieces as they come. The table will also serve as a rough +guide to the first-class and the inferior pieces. The names italicized +are those of pieces rejected as spurious by M. Croiset, and therefore +not placed by him; we have inserted them where they seem to belong; as +to their genuineness, it is our opinion that the objections made (not +by M. Croiset, who does not discuss authenticity) to the _Demosthenes_ +and _The Cynic_ at least are, in view of the merits of these, +unconvincing. + +(i) About 145 to 160 A.D. Lucian a rhetorician in Ionia, Greece, +Italy, and Gaul. + +The Tyrannicide, a rhetorical exercise. + +The Disinherited. + +Phalaris I & II. + +_Demosthenes_, a panegyric. + +Patriotism, an essay. + +The Fly, an essay. + +Swans and Amber, an introductory lecture. + +Dipsas, an introductory lecture. + +The Hall, an introductory lecture. + +Nigrinus, a dialogue on philosophy, 150 A.D. + +(ii) About 160 to 164 A.D. After Lucian's return to Asia. + +The Portrait-study, a panegyric in dialogue, 162 A.D. + +Defence of The Portrait-study, in dialogue. + +A Trial in the Court of Vowels, a _jeu d'esprit_. + +Hesiod, a short dialogue. + +The Vision, an autobiographical address. + +(iii) About 165 A.D. At Athens. + +Pantomime, art criticism in dialogue. + +Anacharsis, a dialogue on physical training. + +Toxaris, stories of friendship in dialogue. + +Slander, a moral essay. + +The Way to write History, an essay in literary criticism. + +The next eight groups, iv-xi, belong to the years from about 165 A.D. +to about 175 A.D., when Lucian was at his best and busiest; iv-ix are +to be regarded roughly as succeeding each other in time; x and xi +being independent in this respect. Pieces are assigned to groups +mainly according to their subjects; but some are placed in groups that +do not seem at first sight the most appropriate, owing to specialties +in their treatment; e.g. _The Ship_ might seem more in place with vii +than with ix; but M. Croiset finds in it a maturity that induces him +to put it later. + +(iv) About 165 A.D. + +Hermotimus, a philosophic dialogue. + +The Parasite, a parody of a philosophic dialogue. + +(v) Influence of the New Comedy writers. + +The Liar, a dialogue satirizing superstition. + +A Feast of Lapithae, a dialogue satirizing the manners of +philosophers. + +Dialogues of the Hetaerae, a series of short dialogues. + +(vi) Influence of the Menippean satire. + +Dialogues of the Dead, a series of short dialogues. + +Dialogues of the Gods, a series of short dialogues. + +Dialogues of the Sea-Gods, a series of short dialogues. + +Menippus, a dialogue satirizing philosophy. + +Icaromenippus, a dialogue satirizing philosophy and religion. + +Zeus cross-examined, a dialogue satirizing religion. + +_The Cynic_, a dialogue against luxury. + +_Of Sacrifice_, an essay satirizing religion. + +Saturnalia, dialogue and letters on the relation of rich and poor. + +The True History, a parody of the old Greek historians, + +(vii) Influence of the Old Comedy writers: vanity of human wishes. + +A Voyage to the Lower World, a dialogue on the vanity of power. + +Charon, a dialogue on the vanity of all things. + +Timon, a dialogue on the vanity of riches. + +The Cock, a dialogue on the vanity of riches and power, + +(viii) Influence of the Old Comedy writers: dialogues satirizing +religion. + +Prometheus on Caucasus. + +Zeus Tragoedus. + +The Gods in Council. + +(ix) Influence of the Old Comedy writers: satire on philosophers. + +The Ship, a dialogue on foolish aspirations. + +The Life of Peregrine, a narrative satirizing the Cynics, 169 A.D. + +The Runaways, a dialogue satirizing the Cynics. + +The double Indictment, an autobiographic dialogue. + +The Sale of Creeds, a dialogue satirizing philosophers. + +The Fisher, an autobiographic dialogue satirizing philosophers. + +(x) 165-175 A.D. Introductory lectures. + +Herodotus. + +Zeuxis. + +Harmonides. + +The Scythian. + +A literary Prometheus. + +(xi) 165-175 A.D. Scattered pieces standing apart from the great +dialogue series, but written during the same period. + +The Book-fancier, an invective. About 170 A.D. + +_The Purist purized_, a literary satire in dialogue. + +Lexiphanes, a literary satire in dialogue. + +The Rhetorician's Vade-mecum, a personal satire. About 178 A.D. + +(xii) After 180 A.D. + +Demonax, a biography. + +Alexander, a satirical biography, + +(xiii) In old age. + +Mourning, an essay. + +Dionysus, an introductory lecture. + +Heracles, an introductory lecture. + +Apology for 'The dependent Scholar.' + +A Slip of the Tongue. + +In conclusion, we have to say that this arrangement of M. Croiset's, +which we have merely tabulated without intentionally departing from it +in any particular, seems to us well considered in its broad lines; +there are a few modifications which we should have been disposed to +make in it; but we thought it better to take it entire than to +exercise our own judgment in a matter where we felt very little +confidence. + + + + +3. CIRCUMSTANCES OF THE TIME + + +M. Aurelius has for us moderns this great superiority in interest over +Saint Louis or Alfred, that he lived and acted in a state of society +modern by its essential characteristics, in an epoch akin to our own, +in a brilliant centre of civilization. Trajan talks of "our +enlightened age" just as glibly as _The Times_ talks of it.' M. +Arnold, _Essays in Criticism, M. Aurelius_. + +The age of M. Aurelius is also the age of Lucian, and with any man of +that age who has, like these two, left us a still legible message we +can enter into quite different relations from those which are possible +with what M. Arnold calls in the same essay 'classical-dictionary +heroes.' A twentieth-century Englishman, a second-century Greek or +Roman, would be much more at home in each other's century, if they had +the gift of tongues, than in most of those which have intervened. It +is neither necessary nor possible to go deeply into the resemblance +here [Footnote: Some words of Sir Leslie Stephen's may be given, +however, describing the welter of religious opinions that prevailed at +both epochs: 'The analogy between the present age and that which +witnessed the introduction of Christianity is too striking to have +been missed by very many observers. The most superficial acquaintance +with the general facts shows how close a parallel might be drawn by a +competent historian. There are none of the striking manifestations of +the present day to which it would not be easy to produce an analogy, +though in some respects on a smaller scale. Now, as then, we can find +mystical philosophers trying to evolve a satisfactory creed by some +process of logical legerdemain out of theosophical moonshine; and +amiable and intelligent persons labouring hard to prove that the old +mythology could be forced to accept a rationalistic interpretation-- +whether in regard to the inspection of entrails or prayers for fine +weather; and philosophers framing systems of morality entirely apart +from the ancient creeds, and sufficiently satisfactory to themselves, +while hopelessly incapable of impressing the popular mind; and +politicians, conscious that the basis of social order was being sapped +by the decay of the faith in which it had arisen, and therefore +attempting the impossible task of galvanizing dead creeds into a +semblance of vitality; and strange superstitions creeping out of their +lurking-places, and gaining influence in a luxurious society whose +intelligence was an ineffectual safeguard against the most grovelling +errors; and a dogged adherence of formalists and conservatives to +ancient ways, and much empty profession of barren orthodoxy; and, +beneath all, a vague disquiet, a breaking up of ancient social and +natural bonds, and a blind groping toward some more cosmopolitan creed +and some deeper satisfaction for the emotional needs of mankind.'-- +_The Religion of all Sensible Men_ in _An Agnostic's Apology_, 1893.]; +all that need be done is to pass in review those points of it, some +important, and some trifling, which are sure to occur in a detached +way to readers of Lucian. + +The Graeco-Roman world was as settled and peaceful, as conscious of +its imperial responsibilities, as susceptible to boredom, as greedy of +amusement, could show as numerous a leisured class, and believed as +firmly in money, as our own. What is more important for our purpose, +it was questioning the truth of its religion as we are to-day +questioning the truth of ours. Lucian was the most vehement of the +questioners. Of what played the part then that the Christian religion +plays now, the pagan religion was only one half; the other half was +philosophy. The gods of Olympus had long lost their hold upon the +educated, but not perhaps upon the masses; the educated, ill content +to be without any guide through the maze of life, had taken to +philosophy instead. Stoicism was the prevalent creed, and how noble a +form this could take in a cultivated and virtuous mind is to be seen +in the _Thoughts_ of M. Aurelius. The test of a religion, however, is +not what form it takes in a virtuous mind, but what effects it +produces on those of another sort. Lucian applies the test of results +alike to the religion usually so called, and to its philosophic +substitute. He finds both wanting; the test is not a satisfactory one, +but it is being applied by all sorts and conditions of men to +Christianity in our own time; so is the second test, that of inherent +probability, which he uses as well as the other upon the pagan +theology; and it is this that gives his writings, even apart from +their wit and fancy, a special interest for our own time. Our +attention seems to be concentrated more and more on the ethical, as +opposed to the speculative or dogmatic aspect of religion; just such +was Lucian's attitude towards philosophy. + +Some minor points of similarity may be briefly noted. As we read the +_Anacharsis_, we are reminded of the modern prominence of athletics; +the question of football _versus_ drill is settled for us; light is +thrown upon the question of conscription; we think of our Commissions +on national deterioration, and the schoolmaster's wail over the +athletic _Frankenstein's_ monster which, like _Eucrates_ in _The +Liar_, he has created but cannot control. The 'horsy talk in every +street' of the _Nigrinus_ calls up the London newsboy with his 'All +the winners.' We think of palmists and spiritualists in the +police-courts as we read of Rutilianus and the Roman nobles consulting +the impostor Alexander. This sentence reads like the description of a +modern man of science confronted with the supernatural: 'It was an +occasion for a man whose intelligence was steeled against such +assaults by scepticism and insight, one who, if he could not detect +the precise imposture, would at any rate have been perfectly certain +that, though this escaped him, the whole thing was a lie and an +impossibility.' The upper-class audiences who listened to Lucian's +readings, taking his points with quiet smiles instead of the loud +applause given to the rhetorician, must have been something like +that which listens decorously to an Extension lecturer. When Lucian +bids us mark 'how many there are who once were but cyphers, but whom +words have raised to fame and opulence, ay, and to noble lineage too,' +we remember not only Gibbon's remark about the very Herodes Atticus of +whom Lucian may have been thinking ('The family of Herod, at least +after it had been favoured by fortune, was lineally descended from +Cimon and Miltiades'), but also the modern _carriere ouverte aux +talents_, and the fact that Tennyson was a lord. There are the +elements of a socialist question in the feelings between rich and poor +described in the _Saturnalia_; while, on the other hand, the fact +of there being an audience for the _Dialogues of the Hetaerae_ is an +illustration of that spirit of _humani nihil a me alienum puto_ which +is again prevalent today. We care now to realize the thoughts of other +classes besides our own; so did they in Lucian's time; but it is +significant that Francklin in 1780, refusing to translate this series, +says: 'These dialogues exhibit to us only such kind of conversation as +we may hear in the purlieus of Covent Garden--lewd, dull, and +insipid.' The lewdness hardly goes beyond the title; they are full of +humour and insight; and we make no apology for translating most of +them. Lastly, a generation that is always complaining of the modern +over-production of books feels that it would be at home in a state of +society in which our author found that, not to be too singular, he +must at least write about writing history, if he declined writing it +himself, even as Diogenes took to rolling his tub, lest he should be +the only idle man when Corinth was bustling about its defences. + +As Lucian is so fond of saying, 'this is but a small selection of the +facts which might have been quoted' to illustrate the likeness between +our age and his. It may be well to allude, on the other hand, to a few +peculiarities of the time that appear conspicuously in his writings. + +The Roman Empire was rather Graeco-Roman than Roman; this is now a +commonplace. It is interesting to observe that for Lucian 'we' is on +occasion the Romans; 'we' is also everywhere the Greeks; while at the +same time 'I' is a barbarian and a Syrian. Roughly speaking, the Roman +element stands for energy, material progress, authority, and the Greek +for thought; the Roman is the British Philistine, the Greek the man of +culture. Lucian is conscious enough of the distinction, and there is +no doubt where his own preference lies. He may be a materialist, so +far as he is anything, in philosophy; but in practice he puts the +things of the mind before the things of the body. + +If our own age supplies parallels for most of what we meet with in the +second century, there are two phenomena which are to be matched rather +in an England that has passed away. The first is the Cynics, who swarm +in Lucian's pages like the begging friars in those of a historical +novelist painting the middle ages. Like the friars, they began nobly +in the desire for plain living and high thinking; in both cases the +thinking became plain, the living not perhaps high, but the best that +circumstances admitted of, and the class--with its numbers hugely +swelled by persons as little like their supposed teachers as a Marian +or Elizabethan persecutor was like the founder of Christianity--a pest +to society. Lucian's sympathy with the best Cynics, and detestation of +the worst, make Cynicism one of his most familiar themes. The second +is the class so vividly presented in _The dependent Scholar_--the +indigent learned Greek who looks about for a rich vulgar Roman to buy +his company, and finds he has the worst of the bargain. His +successors, the 'trencher chaplains' who 'from grasshoppers turn +bumble-bees and wasps, plain parasites, and make the Muses mules, to +satisfy their hunger-starved panches, and get a meal's meat,' were +commoner in Burton's days than in our own, and are to be met in +Fielding, and Macaulay, and Thackeray. + +Two others of Lucian's favourite figures, the parasite and the +legacy-hunter, exist still, no doubt, as they are sure to in every +complex civilization; but their operations are now conducted with more +regard to the decencies. This is worth remembering when we are +occasionally offended by his frankness on subjects to which we are not +accustomed to allude; he is not an unclean or a sensual writer, but +the waters of decency have risen since his time and submerged some +things which were then visible. + +A slight prejudice, again, may sometimes be aroused by Lucian's trick +of constant and trivial quotation; he would rather put the simplest +statement, or even make his transition from one subject to another, in +words of Homer than in his own; we have modern writers too who show +the same tendency, and perhaps we like or dislike them for it in +proportion as their allusions recall memories or merely puzzle us; we +cannot all be expected to have agreeable memories stirred by +insignificant Homer tags; and it is well to bear in mind by way of +palliation that in Greek education Homer played as great a part as the +Bible in ours. He might be taken simply or taken allegorically; but +one way or the other he was the staple of education, and it might be +assumed that every one would like the mere sound of him. + +We may end by remarking that the public readings of his own works, to +which the author makes frequent reference, were what served to a great +extent the purpose of our printing-press. We know that his pieces were +also published; but the public that could be reached by hand-written +copies would bear a very small proportion to that which heard them +from the writer's own lips; and though the modern system may have the +advantage on the whole, it is hard to believe that the unapproached +life and naturalness of Lucian's dialogue does not owe something to +this necessity. + + + + +4. LUCIAN AS A WRITER + + +With all the sincerity of Lucian in _The True History_, 'soliciting +his reader's incredulity,' we solicit our reader's neglect of this +appreciation. We have no pretensions whatever to the critical faculty; +the following remarks are to be taken as made with diffidence, and +offered to those only who prefer being told what to like, and why, to +settling the matter for themselves. + +Goethe, aged fourteen, with seven languages on hand, devised the plan +of a correspondence kept up by seven imaginary brothers scattered over +the globe, each writing in the language of his adopted land. The +stay-at-home in Frankfort was to write Jew-German, for which purpose +some Hebrew must be acquired. His father sent him to Rector Albrecht. +The rector was always found with one book open before him--a +well-thumbed Lucian. But the Hebrew vowel-points were perplexing, and +the boy found better amusement in putting shrewd questions on what +struck him as impossibilities or inconsistencies in the Old-Testament +narrative they were reading. The old gentleman was infinitely amused, +had fits of mingled coughing and laughter, but made little attempt at +solving his pupil's difficulties, beyond ejaculating _Er narrischer +Kerl! Er narrischer Junge_! He let him dig for solutions, however, in +an English commentary on the shelves, and occupied the time with +turning the familiar pages of his Lucian [Footnote: _Wahrheit und +Dichtung_, book iv. ]. The wicked old rector perhaps chuckled to think +that here was one who bade fair to love Lucian one day as well as he +did himself. + +For Lucian too was one who asked questions--spent his life doing +little else; if one were invited to draw him with the least possible +expenditure of ink, one's pen would trace a mark of interrogation. +That picture is easily drawn; to put life into it is a more difficult +matter. However, his is not a complex character, for all the irony in +which he sometimes chooses to clothe his thought; and materials are at +least abundant; he is one of the self-revealing fraternity; his own +personal presence is to be detected more often than not in his work. +He may give us the assistance, or he may not, of labelling a character +_Lucian_ or _Lycinus_; we can detect him, _volentes volentem_, under +the thin disguise of _Menippus_ or _Tychiades_ or _Cyniscus_ as well. +And the essence of him as he reveals himself is the questioning +spirit. He has no respect for authority. Burke describes the majority +of mankind, who do not form their own opinions, as 'those whom +Providence has doomed to live on trust'; Lucian entirely refuses to +live on trust; he 'wants to know.' It was the wish of _Arthur +Clennam_, who had in consequence a very bad name among the _Tite +Barnacles_ and other persons in authority. Lucian has not escaped the +same fate; 'the scoffer Lucian' has become as much a commonplace as +'_fidus Achates_,' or 'the well-greaved Achaeans,' the reading of him +has been discountenanced, and, if he has not actually lost his place +at the table of Immortals, promised him when he temporarily left the +Island of the Blest, it has not been so 'distinguished' a place as it +was to have been and should have been. And all because he 'wanted to +know.' + +His questions, of course, are not all put in the same manner. In the +_Dialogues of the Gods_, for instance, the mark of interrogation is +not writ large; they have almost the air at first of little stories +in dialogue form, which might serve to instruct schoolboys in the +attributes and legends of the gods--a manual charmingly done, yet a +manual only. But we soon see that he has said to himself: Let us put +the thing into plain natural prose, and see what it looks like with +its glamour of poetry and reverence stripped off; the Gods do human +things; why not represent them as human persons, and see what results? +What did result was that henceforth any one who still believed in the +pagan deities might at the cost of an hour's light reading satisfy +himself that his gods were not gods, or, if they were, had no business +to be. Whether many or few did so read and so satisfy themselves, we +have no means of knowing; it is easy to over-estimate the effect such +writing may have had, and to forget that those who were capable of +being convinced by exposition of this sort would mostly be those who +were already convinced without; still, so far as Lucian had any effect +on the religious position, it must have been in discrediting paganism +and increasing the readiness to accept the new faith beginning to make +its way. Which being so, it was ungrateful of the Christian church to +turn and rend him. It did so, partly in error. Lucian had referred in +the _Life of Peregrine_ to the Christians, in words which might seem +irreverent to Christians at a time when they were no longer an obscure +sect; he had described and ridiculed in _The Liar_ certain 'Syrian' +miracles which have a remarkable likeness to the casting out of +spirits by Christ and the apostles; and worse still, the _Philopatris_ +passed under his name. This dialogue, unlike what Lucian had written +in the _Peregrine_ and _The Liar_, is a deliberate attack on +Christianity. It is clear to us now that it was written two hundred +years after his time, under Julian the Apostate; but there can be no +more doubt of its being an imitation of Lucian than of its not being +his; it consequently passed for his, the story gained currency that he +was an apostate himself, and his name was anathema for the church. It +was only partly in error, however. Though Lucian might be useful on +occasion ('When Tertullian or Lactantius employ their labours in +exposing the falsehood and extravagance of Paganism, they are obliged +to transcribe the eloquence of Cicero or the wit of Lucian' [Footnote: +Gibbon, _Decline and Fall_, cap. xv.]), the very word heretic is +enough to remind us that the Church could not show much favour to one +who insisted always on thinking for himself. His works survived, but +he was not read, through the Middle Ages. With the Renaissance he +partly came into his own again, but still laboured under the +imputations of scoffing and atheism, which confined the reading of him +to the few. + +The method followed in the _Dialogues of the Gods_ and similar pieces +is a very indirect way of putting questions. It is done much more +directly in others, the _Zeus cross-examined_, for instance. Since the +fallen angels + + reasoned high + Of Providence, Foreknowledge, Will, and Fate-- + Fixed fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute-- + And found no end, in wandering mazes lost, + +these subjects have had their share of attention; but the questions +can hardly be put more directly, or more neatly, than in the _Zeus +cross-examined_, and the thirtieth _Dialogue of the Dead_. + +He has many other interrogative methods besides these, which may be +left to reveal themselves in the course of reading. As for answering +questions, that is another matter. The answer is sometimes apparent, +sometimes not; he will not refrain from asking a question just because +he does not know the answer; his _role_ is asking, not answering. Nor +when he gives an answer is it always certain whether it is to be taken +in earnest. Was he a cynic? one would say so after reading _The +Cynic_; was he an Epicurean? one would say so after reading the +_Alexander_; was he a philosopher? one would say Yes at a certain +point of the _Hermotimus_, No at another. He doubtless had his moods, +and he was quite unhampered by desire for any consistency except +consistent independence of judgement. Moreover, the difficulty of +getting at his real opinions is increased by the fact that he was an +ironist. We have called him a self-revealer; but you never quite know +where to have an ironical self-revealer. Goethe has the useful phrase, +'direct irony'; a certain German writer 'makes too free a use of +direct irony, praising the blameworthy and blaming the praiseworthy--a +rhetorical device which should be very sparingly employed. In the long +run it disgusts the sensible and misleads the dull, pleasing only the +great intermediate class to whom it offers the satisfaction of being +able to think themselves more shrewd than other people, without +expending much thought of their own' (_Wahrheit und Dichtung_, book +vii). Fielding gives us in _Jonathan Wild_ a sustained piece of +'direct irony'; you have only to reverse everything said, and you get +the author's meaning. Lucian's irony is not of that sort; you cannot +tell when you are to reverse him, only that you will have sometimes to +do so. He does use the direct kind; _The Rhetorician's Vade mecum_ and +_The Parasite_ are examples; the latter is also an example (unless a +translator, who is condemned not to skip or skim, is an unfair judge) +of how tiresome it may become. But who shall say how much of irony and +how much of genuine feeling there is in the fine description of the +philosophic State given in the _Hermotimus_ (with its suggestions of +_Christian_ in _The Pilgrim's Progress_, and of the 'not many wise men +after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble'), or in the +whimsical extravagance (as it strikes a modern) of the _Pantomime_, or +in the triumph permitted to the Cynic (against 'Lycinus' too) in the +dialogue called after him? In one of his own introductory lectures he +compares his pieces aptly enough to the bacchante's thyrsus with its +steel point concealed. + +With his questions and his irony and his inconsistencies, it is no +wonder that Lucian is accused of being purely negative and +destructive. But we need not think he is disposed of in that way, any +more than our old-fashioned literary education is disposed of when it +has been pointed out that it does not equip its _alumni_ with +knowledge of electricity or of a commercially useful modern language; +it may have equipped them with something less paying, but more worth +paying for. Lucian, it is certain, will supply no one with a religion +or a philosophy; but it may be doubted whether any writer will supply +more fully both example and precept in favour of doing one's thinking +for oneself; and it may be doubted also whether any other intellectual +lesson is more necessary. He is _nullius addictus iurare in verba +magistri_, if ever man was; he is individualist to the core. No +religion or philosophy, he seems to say, will save you; the thing is +to think for yourself, and be a man of sense. 'It was but small +consolation,' says _Menippus_, 'to reflect that I was in numerous +and wise and eminently sensible company, if I was a fool still, all +astray in my quest for truth.' _Vox populi_ is no _vox dei_ for him; +he is quite proof against majorities; _Athanasius contra mundum_ is +more to his taste. "What is this I hear?" asked Arignotus, scowling +upon me; "you deny the existence of the supernatural, when there is +scarcely a man who has not seen some evidence of it?" "Therein lies my +exculpation," I replied; "I do not believe in the supernatural, +because, unlike the rest of mankind, I do not see it; if I saw, I +should doubtless believe, just as you all do."' That British +schoolboys should have been brought up for centuries on Ovid, and +Lucian have been tabooed, is, in view of their comparative efficacy in +stimulating thought, an interesting example of _habent sua fata +libelli_. + +It need not be denied that there is in him a certain lack of feeling, +not surprising in one of his analytic temper, but not agreeable +either. He is a hard bright intelligence, with no bowels; he applies +the knife without the least compunction--indeed with something of +savage enjoyment. The veil is relentlessly torn from family affection +in the _Mourning_. _Solon_ in the _Charon_ pursues his victory so far +as to make us pity instead of scorning _Croesus_. _Menippus_ and his +kind, in the shades, do their lashing of dead horses with a +disagreeable gusto, which tempts us to raise a society for the +prevention of cruelty to the Damned. A voyage through Lucian in search +of pathos will yield as little result as one in search of interest in +nature. There is a touch of it here and there (which has probably +evaporated in translation) in the _Hermotimus_, the _Demonax_, and the +_Demosthenes_; but that is all. He was perhaps not unconscious of all +this himself. 'But what is your profession?' asks _Philosophy_. 'I +profess hatred of imposture and pretension, lying and pride... +However, I do not neglect the complementary branch, in which love +takes the place of hate; it includes love of truth and beauty and +simplicity, and all that is akin to love. _But the subjects for this +branch of the profession are sadly few_.' + +Before going on to his purely literary qualities, we may collect here +a few detached remarks affecting rather his character than his skill +as an artist. And first of his relations to philosophy. The statements +in the _Menippus_ and the _Icaromenippus_, as well as in _The Fisher_ +and _The double Indictment_, have all the air of autobiography +(especially as they are in the nature of digressions), and give us to +understand that he had spent much time and energy on philosophic +study. He claims _Philosophy_ as his mistress in _The Fisher_, and in +a case where he is in fact judge as well as party, has no difficulty +in getting his claim established. He is for ever reminding us that he +loves philosophy and only satirizes the degenerate philosophers of his +day. But it _will_ occur to us after reading him through that he has +dissembled his love, then, very well. There is not a passage from +beginning to end of his works that indicates any real comprehension of +any philosophic system. The external characteristics of the +philosophers, the absurd stories current about them, and the popular +misrepresentations of their doctrines--it is in these that philosophy +consists for him. That he had read some of them there is no doubt; but +one has an uneasy suspicion that he read Plato because he liked his +humour and his style, and did not trouble himself about anything +further. Gibbon speaks of 'the philosophic maze of the writings of +Plato, of which the dramatic is perhaps more interesting than the +argumentative part.' That is quite a legitimate opinion, provided you +do not undertake to judge philosophy in the light of it. The +apparently serious rejection of geometrical truth in the _Hermotimus_ +may fairly suggest that Lucian was as unphilosophic as he was +unmathematical. Twice, and perhaps twice only, does he express hearty +admiration for a philosopher. Demonax is 'the best of all +philosophers'; but then he admired him just because he was so little +of a philosopher and so much a man of ordinary common sense. And +Epicurus is 'the thinker who had grasped the nature of things and been +in solitary possession of truth'; but then that is in the _Alexander_, +and any stick was good enough to beat that dog with. The fact is, +Lucian was much too well satisfied with his own judgement to think +that he could possibly require guidance, and the commonplace test of +results was enough to assure him that philosophy was worthless: 'It is +no use having all theory at your fingers' ends, if you do not conform +your conduct to the right.' There is a description in the _Pantomime_ +that is perhaps truer than it is meant to pass for. 'Lycinus' is +called 'an educated man, and _in some sort_ a student of philosophy.' + +If he is not a philosopher, he is very much a moralist; it is because +philosophy deals partly with morals that he thinks he cares for it. +But here too his conclusions are of a very commonsense order. The +Stoic notion that 'Virtue consists in being uncomfortable' strikes him +as merely absurd; no asceticism for him; on the other hand, no lavish +extravagance and _Persici apparatus_; a dinner of herbs with the +righteous--that is, the cultivated Athenian--, a neat repast of Attic +taste, is honestly his idea of good living; it is probable that he +really did sacrifice both money and fame to live in Athens rather than +in Rome, according to his own ideal. That ideal is a very modest one; +when _Menippus_ took all the trouble to get down to Tiresias in Hades +via Babylon, his reward was the information that 'the life of the +ordinary man is the best and the most prudent choice.' So thought +Lucian; and it is to be counted to him for righteousness that he +decided to abandon 'the odious practices that his profession imposes +on the advocate--deceit, falsehood, bluster, clamour, pushing,' for +the quiet life of a literary man (especially as we should probably +never have heard his name had he done otherwise). Not that the life +was so quiet as it might have been. He could not keep his satire +impersonal enough to avoid incurring enmities. He boasts in the +_Peregrine_ of the unfeeling way in which he commented on that +enthusiast to his followers, and we may believe his assurance that his +writings brought general dislike and danger upon him. His moralizing +(of which we are happy to say there is a great deal) is based on +Tiresias's pronouncement. Moralizing has a bad name; but than good +moralizing there is, when one has reached a certain age perhaps, no +better reading. Some of us like it even in our novels, feel more at +home with Fielding and Thackeray for it, and regretfully confess +ourselves unequal to the artistic aloofness of a Flaubert. Well, +Lucian's moralizings are, for those who like such things, of the right +quality; they are never dull, and the touch is extremely light. We may +perhaps be pardoned for alluding to half a dozen conceptions that have +a specially modern air about them. The use that Rome may serve as a +school of resistance to temptation (_Nigrinus_, 19) recalls Milton's +'fugitive and cloistered virtue, unexercised and unbreathed, that +never sallies out and seeks her adversary.' 'Old age is wisdom's +youth, the day of her glorious flower' (_Heracles_, 8) might have +stood as a text for Browning's _Rabbi ben Ezra_. The brands visible on +the tyrant's soul, and the refusal of Lethe as a sufficient punishment +(_Voyage to the lower World_, 24 and 28), have their parallels in our +new eschatology. The decision of _Zeus_ that _Heraclitus_ and +_Democritus_ are to be one lot that laughter and tears will go +together (_Sale of Creeds_, l3)--accords with our views of the +emotional temperament. _Chiron_ is impressive on the vanity of +fruition (_Dialogues of the Dead_, 26). And the figuring of _Truth_ as +'the shadowy creature with the indefinite complexion' (_The Fisher_, +16) is only one example of Lucian's felicity in allegory. + +Another weak point, for which many people will have no more +inclination to condemn him than for his moralizing, is his absolute +indifference to the beauties of nature. Having already given him +credit for regarding nothing that is human as beyond his province, it +is our duty to record the corresponding limitation; of everything that +was not human he was simply unconscious; with him it was not so much +that the _proper_ as that the _only_ study of mankind is man. The +apparent exceptions are not real ones. If he is interested in the +gods, it is as the creatures of human folly that he takes them to be. +If he writes a toy essay with much parade of close observation on the +fly, it is to show how amusing human ingenuity can be on an unlikely +subject. But it is worth notice that 'the first of the moderns,' +though he shows himself in many descriptions of pictures quite awake +to the beauty manufactured by man, has in no way anticipated the +modern discovery that nature is beautiful. To readers who have had +enough of the pathetic fallacy, and of the second-rate novelist's +local colour, Lucian's tacit assumption that there is nothing but man +is refreshing. That he was a close enough observer of human nature, +any one can satisfy himself by glancing at the _Feast of Lapithae_, +the _Dialogues of the Hetaerae_, some of the _Dialogues of the Gods_, +and perhaps best of all, _The Liar_. + +As it occurs to himself to repel the imputation of plagiarism in _A +literary Prometheus_, the point must be briefly touched upon. There +is no doubt that Homer preceded him in making the gods extremely, even +comically, human, that Plato showed him an example of prose dialogue, +that Aristophanes inspired his constructive fancy, that Menippus +provided him with some ideas, how far developed on the same lines we +cannot now tell, that Menander's comedies and Herodas's mimes +contributed to the absolute naturalness of his conversation. If any, +or almost any, of these had never existed, Lucian would have been more +or less different from what he is. His originality is not in the least +affected by that; we may resolve him theoretically into his elements; +but he too had the gift, that out of three sounds he framed, not a +fourth sound, but a star. The question of his originality is no more +important--indeed much less so--than that of Sterne's. + +When we pass to purely literary matters, the first thing to be +remarked upon is the linguistic miracle presented to us. It is useless +to dwell upon it in detail, since this is an introduction not to +Lucian, but to a translation of Lucian; it exists, none the less. A +Syrian writes in Greek, and not in the Greek of his own time, but in +that of five or six centuries before, and he does it, if not with +absolute correctness, yet with the easy mastery that we expect only +from one in a million of those who write in their mother tongue, and +takes his place as an immortal classic. The miracle may be repeated; +an English-educated Hindu may produce masterpieces of Elizabethan +English that will rank him with Bacon and Ben Jonson; but it will +surprise us, when it does happen. That Lucian was himself aware of the +awful dangers besetting the writer who would revive an obsolete +fashion of speech is shown in the _Lexiphanes_. + +Some faults of style he undoubtedly has, of which a word or two should +perhaps be said. The first is the general taint of rhetoric, which is +sometimes positively intolerable, and is liable to spoil enjoyment +even of the best pieces occasionally. Were it not that 'Rhetoric made +a Greek of me,' we should wish heartily that he had never been a +rhetorician. It is the practice of talking on unreal cases, doubtless +habitual with him up to forty, that must be responsible for the self- +satisfied fluency, the too great length, and the perverse ingenuity, +that sometimes excite our impatience. Naturally, it is in the pieces +of inferior subject or design that this taint is most perceptible; and +it must be forgiven in consideration of the fact that without the +toilsome study of rhetoric he would not have been the master of Greek +that he was. + +The second is perhaps only a special case of the first. Julius Pollux, +a sophist whom Lucian is supposed to have attacked in _The +Rhetorician's Vade mecum_, is best known as author of an +_Onomasticon_, or word-list, containing the most important words +relating to certain subjects. One would be reluctant to believe that +Lucian condescended to use his enemy's manual; but it is hard to think +that he had not one of his own, of which he made much too good use. +The conviction is constantly forced on a translator that when Lucian +has said a thing sufficiently once, he has looked at his Onomasticon, +found that there are some words he has not yet got in, and forthwith +said the thing again with some of them, and yet again with the rest. + +The third concerns his use of illustrative anecdotes, comparisons, and +phrases. It is true that, if his pieces are taken each separately, he +is most happy with all these (though it is hard to forgive Alexander's +bathe in the Cydnus with which _The Hall_ opens); but when they are +read continuously, the repeated appearances of the tragic actor +disrobed, the dancing apes and their nuts, of Zeus's golden cord, and +of the 'two octaves apart,' produce an impression of poverty that +makes us momentarily forget his real wealth. + +We have spoken of the annoying tendency to pleonasm in Lucian's style, +which must be laid at the door of rhetoric. On the other hand let it +have part of the credit for a thing of vastly more importance, his +choice of dialogue as a form when he took to letters. It is quite +obvious that he was naturally a man of detached mind, with an +inclination for looking at both sides of a question. This was no doubt +strengthened by the common practice among professional rhetoricians of +writing speeches on both sides of imaginary cases. The +level-headedness produced by this combination of nature and training +naturally led to the selection of dialogue. In one of the preliminary +trials of _The double Indictment, Drink_, being one of the parties, +and consciously incapable at the moment of doing herself justice, +employs her opponent, _The Academy_, to plead for as well as against +her. There are a good many pieces in which Lucian follows the same +method. In _The Hall_ the legal form is actually kept; in the +_Peregrine_ speeches are delivered by an admirer and a scorner of the +hero; in _The Rhetorician's Vade mecum_ half the piece is an imaginary +statement of the writer's enemy; in the _Apology for 'The dependent +Scholar'_ there is a long imaginary objection set up to be afterwards +disposed of; the _Saturnalian Letters_ are the cases of rich and poor +put from opposite sides. None of these are dialogues; but they are all +less perfect devices to secure the same object, the putting of the two +views that the man of detached mind recognizes on every question. Not +that justice is always the object; these devices, and dialogue still +more, offer the further advantage of economy; no ideas need be wasted, +if the subject is treated from more than one aspect. The choice of +dialogue may be accounted for thus; it is true that it would not have +availed much if the chooser had not possessed the nimble wit and the +endless power of varying the formula which is so astonishing in +Lucian; but that it was a matter of importance is proved at once by +comparing the _Alexander_ with _The Liar_, or _The dependent Scholar_ +with the _Feast of Lapithae_. Lucian's non-dialogue pieces (with the +exception of _The True History_) might have been written by other +people; the dialogues are all his own. + +About five-and-thirty of his pieces (or sets of pieces) are in +dialogue, and perhaps the greatest proof of his artistic skill is that +the form never palls; so great is the variety of treatment that no one +of them is like another. The point may be worth dwelling on a little. +The main differences between dialogues, apart from the particular +writer's characteristics, are these: the persons may be two only, or +more; they may be well or ill-matched; the proportions and relations +between conversation and narrative vary; and the objects in view are +not always the same. It is natural for a writer to fall into a groove +with some or all of these, and produce an effect of sameness. Lucian, +on the contrary, so rings the changes by permutations and combinations +of them that each dialogue is approached with a delightful uncertainty +of what form it may take. As to number of persons, it is a long step +from the _Menippus_ to the crowded _dramatis personae_ of _The Fisher_ +or the _Zeus Tragoedus_, in the latter of which there are two +independent sets, one overhearing and commenting upon the other. It is +not much less, though of another kind, from _The Parasite_, where the +interlocutor is merely a man of straw, to the _Hermotimus_, where he +has life enough to give us ever fresh hopes of a change in fortune, or +to the _Anacharsis_, where we are not quite sure, even when all is +over, which has had the best. Then if we consider conversation and +narrative, there are all kinds. _Nigrinus_ has narrative in a setting +of dialogue, _Demosthenes_ vice versa, _The Liar_ reported dialogue +inside dialogue; _Icaromenippus_ is almost a narrative, while _The +Runaways_ is almost a play. Lastly, the form serves in the _Toxaris_ +as a vehicle for stories, in the _Hermotimus_ for real discussion, in +_Menippus_ as relief for narrative, in the _Portrait-study_ for +description, in _The Cock_ to convey moralizing, in _The double +Indictment_ autobiography, in the _Lexiphanes_ satire, and in the +short series it enshrines prose idylls. + +These are considerations of a mechanical order, perhaps; it may be +admitted that technical skill of this sort is only valuable in giving +a proper chance to more essential gifts; but when those exist, it is +of the highest value. And Lucian's versatility in technique is only a +symbol of his versatile powers in general. He is equally at home in +heaven and earth and hell, with philosophers and cobblers, telling a +story, criticizing a book, describing a picture, elaborating an +allegory, personifying an abstraction, parodying a poet or a +historian, flattering an emperor's mistress, putting an audience into +good temper with him and itself, unveiling an imposture, destroying a +religion or a reputation, drawing a character. The last is perhaps the +most disputable of the catalogue. How many of his personages are +realities to us when we have read, and not mere labels for certain +modes of thought or conduct? Well, characterization is not the first, +but only the second thing with him; what is said matters rather more +than who says it; he is more desirous that the argument should advance +than that the person should reveal himself; nevertheless, nothing is +ever said that is out of character; while nothing can be better of the +kind than some of his professed personifications, his _Plutus_ or his +_Philosophy_, we do retain distinct impressions of at least an +irresponsible _Zeus_ and a decorously spiteful _Hera_, a well-meaning, +incapable _Helius_, a bluff _Posidon_, a gallant _Prometheus_, a one- +idea'd _Charon_; _Timon_ is more than misanthropy, _Eucrates_ than +superstition, _Anacharsis_ than intelligent curiosity, _Micyllus_ than +ignorant poverty, poor _Hermotimus_ than blind faith, and Lucian than +a scoffer. + + + + +THE WORKS OF LUCIAN + + +THE VISION + +A CHAPTER OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY + + +When my childhood was over, and I had just left school, my father +called a council to decide upon my profession. Most of his friends +considered that the life of culture was very exacting in toil, time, +and money: a life only for fortune's favourites; whereas our resources +were quite narrow, and urgently called for relief. If I were to take +up some ordinary handicraft, I should be making my own living straight +off, instead of eating my father's meat at my age; and before long my +earnings would be a welcome contribution. + +So the next step was to select the most satisfactory of the +handicrafts; it must be one quite easy to acquire, respectable, +inexpensive as regards plant, and fairly profitable. Various +suggestions were made, according to the taste and knowledge of the +councillors; but my father turned to my mother's brother, supposed to +be an excellent statuary, and said to him: 'With you here, it would be +a sin to prefer any other craft; take the lad, regard him as your +charge, teach him to handle, match, and grave your marble; he will do +well enough; you know he has the ability.' This he had inferred from +certain tricks I used to play with wax. When I got out of school, I +used to scrape off the wax from my tablets and work it into cows, +horses, or even men and women, and he thought I did it creditably; my +masters used to cane me for it, but on this occasion it was taken as +evidence of a natural faculty, and my modelling gave them good hopes +of my picking up the art quickly. + +As soon as it seemed convenient for me to begin, I was handed over to +my uncle, and by no means reluctantly; I thought I should find it +amusing, and be in a position to impress my companions; they should +see me chiselling gods and making little images for myself and my +favourites. The usual first experience of beginners followed: my uncle +gave me a chisel, and told me to give a gentle touch to a plaque lying +on the bench: 'Well begun is half done,' said he, not very originally. +In my inexperience I brought down the tool too hard, and the plaque +broke; he flew into a rage, picked up a stick which lay handy, and +gave me an introduction to art which might have been gentler and more +encouraging; so I paid my footing with tears. + +I ran off, and reached home still howling and tearful, told the story +of the stick, and showed my bruises. I said a great deal about his +brutality, and added that it was all envy: he was afraid of my being a +better sculptor than he. My mother was very angry, and abused her +brother roundly; as for me, I fell asleep that night with my eyes +still wet, and sorrow was with me till the morning. + +So much of my tale is ridiculous and childish. What you have now to +hear, gentlemen, is not so contemptible, but deserves an attentive +hearing; in the words of Homer, + + To me in slumber wrapt a dream divine + Ambrosial night conveyed, + +a dream so vivid as to be indistinguishable from reality; after all +these years, I have still the figures of its persons in my eyes, the +vibration of their words in my ears; so clear it all was. + +Two women had hold of my hands, and were trying vehemently and +persistently to draw me each her way; I was nearly pulled in two with +their contention; now one would prevail and all but get entire +possession of me, now I would fall to the other again, All the time +they were exchanging loud protests: 'He is mine, and I mean to keep +him;' 'Not yours at all, and it is no use your saying he is.' One of +them seemed to be a working woman, masculine looking, with untidy +hair, horny hands, and dress kilted up; she was all powdered with +plaster, like my uncle when he was chipping marble. The other had a +beautiful face, a comely figure, and neat attire. At last they invited +me to decide which of them I would live with; the rough manly one made +her speech first. + +'Dear youth, I am Statuary--the art which you yesterday began to +learn, and which has a natural and a family claim upon you. Your +grandfather' (naming my mother's father) 'and both your uncles +practised it, and it brought them credit. If you will turn a deaf ear +to this person's foolish cajolery, and come and live with me, I +promise you wholesome food and good strong muscles; you shall never +fear envy, never leave your country and your people to go wandering +abroad, and you shall be commended not for your words, but for your +works. + +'Let not a slovenly person or dirty clothes repel you; such were the +conditions of that Phidias who produced the Zeus, of Polyclitus who +created the Hera, of the much-lauded Myron, of the admired Praxiteles; +and all these are worshipped with the Gods. If you should come to be +counted among them, you will surely have fame enough for yourself +through all the world, you will make your father the envy of all +fathers, and bring your country to all men's notice.' This and more +said Statuary, stumbling along in a strange jargon, stringing her +arguments together in a very earnest manner, and quite intent on +persuading me. But I can remember no more; the greater part of it has +faded from my memory. When she stopped, the other's turn came. + +'And I, child, am Culture, no stranger to you even now, though you +have yet to make my closer acquaintance. The advantages that the +profession of a sculptor will bring with it you have just been told; +they amount to no more than being a worker with your hands, your whole +prospects in life limited to that; you will be obscure, poorly and +illiberally paid, mean-spirited, of no account outside your doors; +your influence will never help a friend, silence an enemy, nor impress +your countrymen; you will be just a worker, one of the masses, +cowering before the distinguished, truckling to the eloquent, living +the life of a hare, a prey to your betters. You may turn out a Phidias +or a Polyclitus, to be sure, and create a number of wonderful works; +but even so, though your art will be generally commended, no sensible +observer will be found to wish himself like you; whatever your real +qualities, you will always rank as a common craftsman who makes his +living with his hands. + +'Be governed by me, on the other hand, and your first reward shall be +a view of the many wondrous deeds and doings of the men of old; you +shall hear their words and know them all, what manner of men they +were; and your soul, which is your very self, I will adorn with many +fair adornments, with self-mastery and justice and reverence and +mildness, with consideration and understanding and fortitude, with +love of what is beautiful, and yearning for what is great; these +things it is that are the true and pure ornaments of the soul. Naught +shall escape you either of ancient wisdom or of present avail; nay, +the future too, with me to aid, you shall foresee; in a word, I will +instill into you, and that in no long time, all knowledge human and +divine. + +'This penniless son of who knows whom, contemplating but now a +vocation so ignoble, shall soon be admired and envied of all, with +honour and praise and the fame of high achievement, respected by the +high-born and the affluent, clothed as I am clothed' (and here she +pointed to her own bright raiment), 'held worthy of place and +precedence; and if you leave your native land, you will be no unknown +nameless wanderer; you shall wear my marks upon you, and every man +beholding you shall touch his neighbour's arm and say, That is he. + +'And if some great moment come to try your friends or country, then +shall all look to you. And to your lightest word the many shall listen +open-mouthed, and marvel, and count you happy in your eloquence, and +your father in his son. 'Tis said that some from mortal men become +immortal; and I will make it truth in you; for though you depart from +life yourself, you shall keep touch with the learned and hold +communion with the best. Consider the mighty Demosthenes, whose son he +was, and whither I exalted him; consider Aeschines; how came a Philip +to pay court to the cymbal-woman's brat? how but for my sake? Dame +Statuary here had the breeding of Socrates himself; but no sooner +could he discern the better part, than he deserted her and enlisted +with me; since when, his name is on every tongue. + +'You may dismiss all these great men, and with them all glorious +deeds, majestic words, and seemly looks, all honour, repute, praise, +precedence, power, and office, all lauded eloquence and envied wisdom; +these you may put from you, to gird on a filthy apron and assume a +servile guise; then will you handle crowbars and graving tools, +mallets and chisels; you will be bowed over your work, with eyes and +thoughts bent earthwards, abject as abject can be, with never a free +and manly upward look or aspiration; all your care will be to +proportion and fairly drape your works; to proportioning and adorning +yourself you will give little heed enough, making yourself of less +account than your marble.' + +I waited not for her to bring her words to an end, but rose up and +spoke my mind; I turned from that clumsy mechanic woman, and went +rejoicing to lady Culture, the more when I thought upon the stick, and +all the blows my yesterday's apprenticeship had brought me. For a time +the deserted one was wroth, with clenched fists and grinding teeth; +but at last she stiffened, like another Niobe, into marble. A strange +fate, but I must request your belief; dreams are great magicians, are +they not? + +Then the other looked upon me and spoke:--'For this justice done me,' +said she, 'you shall now be recompensed; come, mount this car'--and +lo, one stood ready, drawn by winged steeds like Pegasus--, 'that you +may learn what fair sights another choice would have cost you.' We +mounted, she took the reins and drove, and I was carried aloft and +beheld towns and nations and peoples from the East to the West; and +methought I was sowing like Triptolemus; but the nature of the seed I +cannot call to mind--only this, that men on earth when they saw it +gave praise, and all whom I reached in my flight sent me on my way +with blessings. + +When she had presented these things to my eyes, and me to my admirers, +she brought me back, no more clad as when my flight began; I returned, +methought, in glorious raiment. And finding my father where he stood +waiting, she showed him my raiment, and the guise in which I came, and +said a word to him upon the lot which they had come so near appointing +for me. All this I saw when scarce out of my childhood; the confusion +and terror of the stick, it may be, stamped it on my memory. + +'Good gracious,' says some one, before I have done, 'what a longwinded +lawyer's vision!' 'This,' interrupts another, 'must be a winter dream, +to judge by the length of night required; or perhaps it took three +nights, like the making of Heracles. What has come over him, that he +babbles such puerilities? memorable things indeed, a child in bed, and +a very ancient, worn-out dream! what stale frigid stuff! does he take +us for interpreters of dreams?' Sir, I do not. When Xenophon related +that vision of his which you all know, of his father's house on fire +and the rest, was it just by way of a riddle? was it in deliberate +ineptitude that he reproduced it? a likely thing in their desperate +military situation, with the enemy surrounding them! no, the relation +was to serve a useful purpose. + +Similarly I have had an object in telling you my dream. It is that the +young may be guided to the better way and set themselves to Culture, +especially any among them who is recreant for fear of poverty, and +minded to enter the wrong path, to the ruin of a nature not all +ignoble. Such an one will be strengthened by my tale, I am well +assured; in me he will find an apt example; let him only compare the +boy of those days, who started in pursuit of the best and devoted +himself to Culture regardless of immediate poverty, with the man who +has now come back to you, as high in fame, to put it at the lowest, as +any stonecutter of them all. + +H. + + + + +A LITERARY PROMETHEUS + + +So you will have me a Prometheus? If your meaning is, my good sir, +that my works, like his, are of clay, I accept the comparison and hail +my prototype; potter me to your heart's content, though _my_ clay is +poor common stuff, trampled by common feet till it is little better +than mud. But perhaps it is in exaggerated compliment to my ingenuity +that you father my books upon the subtlest of the Titans; in that case +I fear men will find a hidden meaning, and detect an Attic curl on +your laudatory lips. Where do you find my ingenuity? in what consists +the great subtlety, the Prometheanism, of my writings? enough for me +if you have not found them sheer earth, all unworthy of Caucasian +clay-pits. How much better a claim to kinship with Prometheus have you +gentlemen who win fame in the courts, engaged in real contests; _your_ +works have true life and breath, ay, and the warmth of fire. That is +Promethean indeed, though with the difference, it may be, that you do +not work in clay; your creations are oftenest of gold; we +on the other hand who come before popular audiences and offer mere +lectures are exhibitors of imitations only. However, I have the +general resemblance to Prometheus, as I said before--a resemblance +which I share with the dollmakers--, that my modelling is in clay; but +then there is no motion, as with him, not a sign of life; +entertainment and pastime is the beginning and the end of my work. So +I must look for light elsewhere; possibly the title is a sort of +_lucus a non lucendo_, applied to me as to Cleon in the comedy: + + Full well Prometheus-Cleon plans--the past. + +Or again, the Athenians used to call Prometheuses the makers of jars +and stoves and other, clay-workers, with playful reference to the +material, and perhaps to the use of fire in baking the ware. If that +is all your 'Prometheus' means, you have aimed your shaft well enough, +and flavoured your jest with the right Attic tartness; my productions +are as brittle as their pottery; fling a stone, and you may smash them +all to pieces. + +But here some one offers me a crumb of comfort: 'That was not the +likeness he found between you and Prometheus; he meant to commend your +innovating originality: at a time when human beings did not exist, +Prometheus conceived and fashioned them; he moulded and elaborated +certain living things into agility and beauty; he was practically +their creator, though Athene assisted by putting breath into the clay +and bringing the models to life.' So says my some one, giving your +remark its politest possible turn. Perhaps he has hit the true +meaning; not that I can rest content, however, with the mere credit of +innovation, and the absence of any original to which my work can be +referred; if it is not good as well as original, I assure you I shall +be ashamed of it, bring down my foot and crush it out of existence; +its novelty shall not avail (with me at least) to save its ugliness +from annihilation. If I thought otherwise, I admit that a round dozen +of vultures would be none too many for the liver of a dunce who could +not see that ugliness was only aggravated by strangeness. + +Ptolemy, son of Lagus, imported two novelties into Egypt; one was a +pure black Bactrian camel, the other a piebald man, half absolutely +black and half unusually white, the two colours evenly distributed; he +invited the Egyptians to the theatre, and concluded a varied show with +these two, expecting to bring down the house. The audience, however, +was terrified by the camel and almost stampeded; still, it _was_ +decked all over with gold, had purple housings and a richly jewelled +bridle, the spoil of Darius' or Cambyses' treasury, if not of Cyrus' +own. As for the man, a few laughed at him, but most shrank as from a +monster. Ptolemy realized that the show was a failure, and the +Egyptians proof against mere novelty, preferring harmony and beauty. +So he withdrew and ceased to prize them; the camel died forgotten, and +the parti-coloured man became the reward of Thespis the fluteplayer +for a successful after-dinner performance. + +I am afraid my work is a camel in Egypt, and men's admiration limited +to the bridle and purple housings; as to combinations, though the +components may be of the most beautiful (as Comedy and Dialogue in the +present case), that will not ensure a good effect, unless the mixture +is harmonious and well-proportioned; it is possible that the resultant +of two beauties may be bizarre. The readiest instance to hand is the +centaur: not a lovely creature, you will admit, but a savage, if the +paintings of its drunken bouts and murders go for anything. Well, but +on the other hand is it not possible for two such components to result +in beauty, as the combination of wine and honey in superlative +sweetness? That is my belief; but I am not prepared to maintain that +_my_ components have that property; I fear the mixture may only +have obscured their separate beauties. + +For one thing, there was no great original connexion or friendship +between Dialogue and Comedy; the former was a stay-at-home, spending +his time in solitude, or at most taking a stroll with a few intimates; +whereas Comedy put herself in the hands of Dionysus, haunted the +theatre, frolicked in company, laughed and mocked and tripped it to +the flute when she saw good; nay, she would mount her anapaests, as +likely as not, and pelt the friends of Dialogue with nicknames-- +doctrinaires, airy metaphysicians, and the like. The thing she loved +of all else was to chaff them and drench them in holiday impertinence, +exhibit them treading on air and arguing with the clouds, or measuring +the jump of a flea, as a type of their ethereal refinements. But +Dialogue continued his deep speculations upon Nature and Virtue, till, +as the musicians say, the interval between them was two full octaves, +from the highest to the lowest note. This ill-assorted pair it is that +we have dared to unite and harmonize--reluctant and ill--disposed for +reconciliation. + +And here comes in the apprehension of yet another Promethean analogy: +have I confounded male and female, and incurred the penalty? Or no-- +when will resemblances end?--have I, rather, cheated my hearers by +serving them up bones wrapped in fat, comic laughter in philosophic +solemnity? As for stealing--for Prometheus is the thief's patron too-- +I defy you there; that is the one fault you cannot find with me: from +whom should I have stolen? if any one has dealt before me in such +forced unions and hybrids, I have never made his acquaintance. But +after all, what am I to do? I have made my bed, and I must lie in it; +Epimetheus may change his mind, but Prometheus, never. + +H. + + + + +NIGRINUS + + +[Lucian to Nigrinus. Health. + +There is a proverb about carrying 'owls to Athens'--an absurd +undertaking, considering the excellent supply already on the spot. Had +it been my intention, in presenting Nigrinus with a volume of my +composition, to indulge him of all people with a display of literary +skill, I should indeed have been an arrant 'owl-fancier in Athens.' As +however my object is merely to communicate to you my present +sentiments, and the profound impression produced upon me by your +eloquence, I may fairly plead Not Guilty, even to the charge of +Thucydides, that 'Men are bold from ignorance, where mature +consideration would render them cautious.' For I need not say that +devotion to my subject is partly responsible for my present hardihood; +it is not _all_ the work of ignorance. Farewell.] + + + + +NIGRINUS + +A DIALOGUE + +_Lucian. A Friend_ + + +_Fr_. What a haughty and dignified Lucian returns to us from his +journey! He will not vouchsafe us a glance; he stands aloof, and will +hold no further communion with us. Altogether a supercilious Lucian! +The change is sudden. Might one inquire the cause of this altered +demeanour? + +_Luc_. 'Tis the work of Fortune. + +_Fr_. Of Fortune! + +_Luc_. As an incidental result of my journey, you see in me a happy +man; 'thrice-blest,' as the tragedians have it. + +_Fr_. Dear me. What, in this short time? + +_Luc_. Even so. + +_Fr_. But what does it all mean? What is the secret of your elation? I +decline to rejoice with you in this abridged fashion; I must have +details. Tell me all about it. + +_Luc_. What should you think, if I told you that I had exchanged +servitude for freedom; poverty for true wealth; folly and presumption +for good sense? + +_Fr_. Extraordinary! But I am not quite clear of your meaning yet. + +_Luc_. Why, I went off to Rome to see an oculist--my eyes had been +getting worse-- + +_Fr_. Yes, I know about that. I have been hoping that you would light +on a good man. + +_Luc_. Well, I got up early one morning with the intention of paying a +long-deferred visit to Nigrinus, the Platonic philosopher. On reaching +his house, I knocked, and was duly announced and admitted to his +presence. I found him with a book in his hand, surrounded by various +statues of the ancient philosophers. Before him lay a tablet, with +geometrical figures described on it, and a globe of reeds, designed +apparently to represent the universe. He greeted me cordially, and +asked after my welfare. I satisfied his inquiries, and demanded, in my +turn, how he did, and whether he had decided on another trip to +Greece. Once on that subject, he gave free expression to his +sentiments; and, I assure you, 'twas a veritable feast of ambrosia to +me. The spells of the Sirens (if ever there were Sirens), of the +Pindaric 'Charmers,' of the Homeric lotus, are things to be forgotten, +after his truly divine eloquence. Led on by his theme, he spoke the +praises of philosophy, and of the freedom which philosophy confers; +and expressed his contempt for the vulgar error which sets a value +upon wealth and renown and dominion and power, upon gold and purple, +and all that dazzles the eyes of the world,--and once attracted my +own! I listened with rapt attention, and with a swelling heart. At the +time, I knew not what had come over me; my feelings were +indescribable. My dearest idols, riches and renown, lay shattered; one +moment I was ready to shed bitter tears over the disillusionment, the +next, I could have laughed for scorn of these very things, and was +exulting in my escape from the murky atmosphere of my past life into +the brightness of the upper air. The result was curious: I forgot all +about my ophthalmic troubles, in the gradual improvement of my +spiritual vision; for till that day I had grovelled in spiritual +blindness. Little by little I came into the condition with which you +were twitting me just now. Nigrinus's words have raised in me a joyous +exaltation of spirit which precludes every meaner thought. Philosophy +seems to have produced the same effect on me as wine is said to have +produced on the Indians the first time they drank it. The mere taste +of such potent liquor threw them into a state of absolute frenzy, the +intoxicating power of the wine being doubled in men so warm-blooded by +nature. This is my case. I go about like one possessed; I am drunk +with the words of wisdom. + +_Fr_. This is not drunkenness, but sobriety and temperance. But I +should like to hear what Nigrinus actually said, if that may be. It is +only right that you should take that trouble for me; I am your friend, +and share your interests. + +_Luc_. Enough! You urge a willing steed. I was about to bespeak your +attention. You must be my witness to the world, that there is reason +in my madness. Indeed, apart from this, the work of recollection is a +pleasure, and has become a constant practice with me; twice, thrice in +a day I repeat over his words, though there is none to hear. A lover, +in the absence of his mistress, remembers some word, some act of hers, +dwells on it, and beguiles hours of sickness with her feigned +presence. Sometimes he thinks he is face to face with her; words, +heard long since, come again from her lips; he rejoices; his soul +cleaves to the memory of the past, and has no time for present +vexations. It is so with me. Philosophy is far away, but I have heard +a philosopher's words. I piece them together, and revolve them in my +heart, and am comforted. Nigrinus is the beacon-fire on which, far out +in mid-ocean, in the darkness of night, I fix my gaze; I fancy him +present with me in all my doings; I hear ever the same words. At +times, in moments of concentration, I see his very face, his voice +rings in my ears. Of him it may truly be said, as of Pericles, + + In every heart he left his sting. + +_Fr_. Stay, gentle enthusiast. Take a good breath, and start again; I +am waiting to hear what Nigrinus said. You beat about the bush in a +manner truly exasperating. + +_Luc_. True, I must make a start, as you say. And yet... Tell me, did +you never see a tragedy (nay, the comedies fare no better) murdered by +bad acting, and the culprits finally hissed off the stage for their +pains? As often as not the play is a perfectly good one, and has +scored a success. + +_Fr_. I know the sort of thing; and what about it? + +_Luc_. I am afraid that before I have done you will find that I make +as sad work of it as they do,--jumbling things together pell-mell, +spoiling the whole point sometimes by inadequate expression; and you +will end by damning the play instead of the actor. I could put up with +my own share of the disgrace; but it would vex me indeed, that my +subject should be involved in my downfall; I cannot have _it_ +discredited for my shortcomings. Remember, then: whatever the +imperfections in my speech, the author is not to be called to account; +he sits far aloof from the stage, and knows nothing of what is going +forward. The memory of the actor is all that you are invited to +criticize; I am neither more nor less than the 'Messenger' in a +tragedy. At each flaw in the argument, be this your first thought, +that the author probably said something quite different, and much more +to the point;--and then you may hiss me off if you will. + +_Fr_. Bless me; here is quite a professional exordium! You are about +to add, I think, that 'your consultation with your client has been but +brief'; that you 'come into court imperfectly instructed'; that 'it +were to be desired that your client were here to plead his own cause; +as it is, you are reduced to such a meagre and inadequate statement of +the case, as memory will supply.' Am I right? Well then, spare +yourself the trouble, as far as I am concerned. Imagine all these +preliminaries settled. I stand prepared to applaud: but if you keep me +waiting, I shall harbour resentment all through the case, and hiss you +accordingly. + +_Luc_. I should, indeed, have been glad to avail myself of the +arguments you mention, and of others too. I might have said, that mine +would be no set speech, no orderly statement such as that I heard; +that is wholly beyond me. Nor can I speak in the person of Nigrinus. +There again I should be like a bad actor, taking the part of +Agamemnon, or Creon, or Heracles' self; he is arrayed in cloth of +gold, and looks very formidable, and his mouth opens tremendously +wide; and what comes out of it? A little, shrill, womanish pipe of a +voice that would disgrace Polyxena or Hecuba! I for my part have no +intention of exposing myself in a mask several sizes too large for me, +or of wearing a robe to which I cannot do credit. Rather than play the +hero's part, and involve him in my discomfiture, I will speak in my +own person. + +_Fr_. Will the man never have done with his masks and his stages? + +_Luc_. Nay, that is all. And now to my subject. Nigrinus's first words +were in praise of Greece, and in particular of the Athenians. They are +brought up, he said, to poverty and to philosophy. The endeavours, +whether of foreigners or of their own countrymen, to introduce luxury +into their midst, find no favour with them. When a man comes among +them with this view, they quietly set about to correct his tendency, +and by gentle degrees to bring him to a better course of life. He +mentioned the case of a wealthy man who arrived at Athens in all the +vulgar pomp of retinue and gold and gorgeous raiment, expecting that +every eye would be turned upon him in envy of his lot; instead of +which, they heartily pitied the poor worm, and proceeded to take his +education in hand. Not an ill-natured word, not an attempt at direct +interference: it was a free city; he was at liberty to live in it as +he thought fit. But when he made a public nuisance of himself in the +baths or gymnasiums, crowding in with his attendants, and taking up +all the room, someone would whisper, in a sly aside, as if the words +were not meant to reach his ears: 'He is afraid he will never come out +from here alive; yet all is peace; there is no need of such an army.' +The remark would be overheard, and would have its educational effect. +They soon eased him of his embroidery and purple, by playful allusions +to flower and colour. 'Spring is early.'--'How did that peacock get +here?'--'His mother must have lent him that shawl,'--and so on. The +same with the rest, his rings, his elaborate coiffure, and his table +excesses. Little by little he came to his senses, and left Athens very +much the better for the public education he had received. + +Nor do they scruple to confess their poverty. He mentioned a sentence +which he heard pronounced unanimously by the assembled people at the +Panathenaic festival. A citizen had been arrested and brought before +the Steward for making his appearance in coloured clothes. The +onlookers felt for him, and took his part; and when the herald +declared that he had violated the law by attending the festival in +that attire, they all exclaimed with one voice, as if they had been in +consultation, 'that he must be pardoned for wearing those clothes, as +he had no others.' + +He further commended the Athenian liberty, and unpretentious style of +living; the peace and learned leisure which they so abundantly enjoy. +To dwell among such men, he declared, is to dwell with philosophy; a +single-hearted man, who has been taught to despise wealth, may here +preserve a pure morality; no life could be more in harmony with the +determined pursuit of all that is truly beautiful. But the man over +whom gold has cast its spell, who is in love with riches, and measures +happiness by purple raiment and dominion, who, living his life among +flatterers and slaves, knows not the sweets of freedom, the blessings +of candour, the beauty of truth; he who has given up his soul to +Pleasure, and will serve no other mistress, whose heart is set on +gluttony and wine and women, on whose tongue are deceit and hypocrisy; +he again whose ears must be tickled with lascivious songs, and the +voluptuous notes of flute and lyre;--let all such (he cried) dwell +here in Rome; the life will suit them. Our streets and market-places +are filled with the things they love best. They may take in pleasure +through every aperture, through eye and ear, nostril and palate; nor +are the claims of Aphrodite forgotten. The turbid stream surges +everlastingly through our streets; avarice, perjury, adultery,--all +tastes are represented. Under that rush of waters, modesty, virtue, +uprightness, are torn from the soul; and in their stead grows the tree +of perpetual thirst, whose flowers are many strange desires. + +Such was Rome; such were the blessings she taught men to enjoy. 'As +for me,' he continued, 'on returning from my first voyage to Greece, I +stopped short a little way from the city, and called myself to +account, in the words of Homer, for my return. + + Ah, wretch! and leav'st thou then the light of day-- + the joyous freedom of Greece, + And wouldst behold-- + +the turmoil of Rome? slander and insolence and gluttony, flatterers +and false friends, legacy-hunters and murderers? And what wilt thou do +here? thou canst not endure these things, neither canst thou escape +them! Thus reasoning, I withdrew myself out of range, as Zeus did +Hector, + + Far from the scene of slaughter, blood and strife, + +and resolved henceforth to keep my house. I lead the life you see--a +spiritless, womanish life, most men would account it--holding converse +with Philosophy, with Plato, with Truth. From my high seat in this +vast theatre, I look down on the scene beneath me; a scene calculated +to afford much entertainment; calculated also to try a man's +resolution to the utmost. For, to give evil its due, believe me, there +is no better school for virtue, no truer test of moral strength, than +life in this same city of Rome. It is no easy thing, to withstand so +many temptations, so many allurements and distractions of sight and +sound. There is no help for it: like Odysseus, we must sail past them +all; and there must be no binding of hands, no stopping of our ears +with wax; that would be but sorry courage: our ears must hear, our +hands must be free,--and our contempt must be genuine. Well may that +man conceive an admiration of philosophy, who is a spectator of so +much folly; well may he despise the gifts of Fortune, who views this +stage, and its multitudinous actors. The slave grows to be master, the +rich man is poor, the pauper becomes a prince, a king; and one is His +Majesty's friend, and another is his enemy, and a third he banishes. +And here is the strangest thing of all: the affairs of mankind are +confessedly the playthings of Fortune, they have no pretence to +security; yet, with instances of this daily before their eyes, men +will reach after wealth and power;--not one of them but carries his +load of hopes unrealized. + +'But I said that there was entertainment also to be derived from the +scene; and I will maintain it. Our rich men are an entertainment in +themselves, with their purple and their rings always in evidence, and +their thousand vulgarities. The latest development is the _salutation +by proxy_; [Footnote: The _spoken_ salutation being performed by a +servant.] they favour us with a glance, and that must be happiness +enough. By the more ambitious spirits, an obeisance is expected; this +is not performed at a distance, after the Persian fashion--you go +right up, and make a profound bow, testifying with the angle of your +body to the self-abasement of your soul; you then kiss his hand or +breast--and happy and enviable is he who may do so much! And there +stands the great man, protracting the illusion as long as may be. (I +heartily acquiesce, by the way, in the churlish sentence which +excludes us from a nearer acquaintance with their _lips_.) + +'But if these men are amusing, their courtiers and flatterers are +doubly so. They rise in the small hours of the night, to go their +round of the city, to have doors slammed in their faces by slaves, to +swallow as best they may the compliments of "Dog," "Toadeater," and +the like. And the guerdon of their painful circumambulations? A +vulgarly magnificent dinner, the source of many woes! They eat too +much, they drink more than they want, they talk more than they should; +and then they go away, angry and disappointed, grumbling at their +fare, and protesting against the scant courtesy shown them by their +insolent patron. You may see them vomiting in every alley, squabbling +at every brothel. The daylight most of them spend in bed, furnishing +employment for the doctors. Most of them, I say; for with some it has +come to this, that they actually have no time to be ill. My own +opinion is that, of the two parties, the toadies are more to blame, +and have only themselves to thank for their patron's insolence. What +can they expect him to think, after their commendations of his wealth, +their panegyrics on money, their early attendance at his doors, their +servile salutations? If by common consent they would abstain, were it +only for a few days, from this voluntary servitude, the tables must +surely be turned, and the rich come to the doors of the paupers, +imploring them not to leave such blessedness as theirs without a +witness, their fine houses and elegant furniture lying idle for want +of some one to use them. Not wealth, but the envy that waits on +wealth, is the object of their desire. The truth is, gold and ivory +and noble mansions are of little avail to their owner, if there is no +one to admire them. If we would break the power of the rich, and bring +down their pretensions, we must raise up within their borders a +stronghold of Indifference. As it is, their vanity is fostered by the +court that is paid to them. In ordinary men, who have no pretence to +education, this conduct, no doubt, is less to be blamed. But that men +who call themselves philosophers should actually outdo the rest in +degradation,--this, indeed, is the climax. Imagine my feelings, when I +see a brother philosopher, an old man, perhaps, mingling in the herd +of sycophants; dancing attendance on some great man; adapting himself +to the conversational level of a possible host! One thing, indeed, +serves to distinguish him from his company, and to accentuate his +disgrace;--he wears the garb of philosophy. It is much to be regretted +that actors of uniform excellence in other respects will not dress +conformably to their part. For in the achievements of the table, what +toadeater besides can be compared with them? There is an artlessness +in their manner of stuffing themselves, a frankness in their tippling, +which defy competition; they sponge with more spirit than other men, +and sit on with greater persistency. It is not an uncommon thing for +the more courtly sages to oblige the company with a song.' + +All this he treated as a jest. But he had much to say on the subject +of those paid philosophers, who hawk about virtue like any other +marketable commodity. 'Hucksters' and 'petty traders' were his words +for them. A man who proposes to teach the contempt of wealth, should +begin (he maintained) by showing a soul above fees. And certainly he +has always acted on this principle himself. He is not content with +giving his services gratis to all comers, but lends a helping hand to +all who are in difficulties, and shows an absolute disregard for +riches. So far is he from grasping at other men's goods, that he could +anticipate without concern the deterioration of his own property. He +possessed an estate at no great distance from the city, on which for +many years he had never even set foot. Nay, he disclaimed all right of +property in it; meaning, I suppose, that we have no natural claim to +such things; law, and the rights of inheritance, give us the use of +them for an indefinite period, and for that time we are styled +'owners'; presently our term lapses, and another succeeds to the +enjoyment of a name. + +There are other points in which he sets an admirable example to the +serious followers of philosophy: his frugal life, his systematic +habits of bodily exercise, his modest bearing, his simplicity of +dress, but above all, gentle manners and a constant mind. He urges his +followers not to postpone the pursuit of good, as so many do, who +allow themselves a period of grace till the next great festival, after +which they propose to eschew deceit and lead a righteous life; there +must be no shilly-shallying, when virtue is the goal for which we +start. On the other hand, there are philosophers whose idea of +inculcating virtue in their youthful disciples is to subject them to +various tests of physical endurance; whose favourite prescription is +the strait waistcoat, varied with flagellations, or the enlightened +process of scarification. Of these Nigrinus evidently had no opinion. +According to him, our first care should be to inure the _soul_ to +pain and hardship; he who aspired to educate men aright must reckon +with soul as well as body, with the age of his pupils, and with their +previous training; he would then escape the palpable blunder of +overtasking them. Many a one (he affirmed) had succumbed under the +unreasonable strain put upon him; and I met with an instance myself, +of a man who had tasted the hardships of those schools, but no sooner +heard the words of true wisdom, than he fled incontinently to +Nigrinus, and was manifestly the better for the change. + +Leaving the philosophers to themselves, he reverted to more general +subjects: the din and bustle of the city, the theatres, the +race-course, the statues of charioteers, the nomenclature of horses, +the horse-talk in every side-street. The rage for horses has become a +positive epidemic; many persons are infected with it whom one would +have credited with more sense. + +Then the scene changed to the pomp and circumstance attendant upon +funerals and testamentary dispositions. 'Only once in his life' (he +observed) 'does your thoroughbred Roman say what he means; and then,' +meaning, in his will, 'it comes too late for him to enjoy the credit +of it.' I could not help laughing when he told me how they thought it +necessary to carry their follies with them to the grave, and to leave +the record of their inanity behind them in black and white; some +stipulating that their clothes or other treasures should be burnt with +them, others that their graves should be watched by particular +servants, or their monuments crowned with flowers;--sapient end to a +life of sapience! 'Of their doings in this world,' said he, 'you may +form some idea from their injunctions with reference to the next. +These are they who will pay a long price for an entree; whose floors +are sprinkled with wine and saffron and spices; who in midwinter +smother themselves in roses, ay, for roses are scarce, and out of +season, and altogether desirable; but let a thing come in its due +course, and oh, 'tis vile, 'tis contemptible. These are they whose +drink is of costly essences.' He had no mercy on them here. 'Very +bunglers in sensuality, who know not her laws, and confound her +ordinances, flinging down their souls to be trampled beneath the heels +of luxury! As the play has it, Door or window, all is one to them. +Such pleasures are rank solecism.' One observation of his in the same +spirit fairly caps the famous censure of Momus. Momus found fault with +the divine artificer for not putting his bull's horns in front of the +eyes. Similarly, Nigrinus complained that when these men crown +themselves in their banquets, they put the garlands in the wrong +place; if they are so fond of the smell of violets and roses, they +should tie on their garlands as close as may be under their nostrils; +they could then snuff up the smell to their hearts' content. + +Proceeding to the gentlemen who make such a serious work of their +dinner, he was exceedingly merry over their painful elaborations of +sauce and seasoning. 'Here again,' he cried, 'these men are sore put +to it, to procure the most fleeting of enjoyments. Grant them four +inches of palate apiece--'tis the utmost we can allow any man--and I +will prove to you that they have four inches of gratification for +their trouble. Thus: there is no satisfaction to be got out of the +costliest viands before consumption; and after it a full stomach is +none the better for the price it has cost to fill it. _Ergo_, the +money is paid for the pleasure snatched _in transitu_. But what are we +to expect? These men are too grossly ignorant to discern those truer +pleasures with which Philosophy rewards our resolute endeavours.' + +The Baths proved a fertile topic, what with the insolence of the +masters and the jostlings of their men;--'they will not stand without +the support of a slave; it is much that they retain enough vitality to +get away on their own legs at all.' One practice which obtains in the +streets and Baths of Rome seemed to arouse his particular resentment. +Slaves have to walk on ahead of their masters, and call out to them to +'look to their feet,' whenever there is a hole or a lump in their way; +it has come to this, that men must be _reminded that they are +walking_. 'It is too much,' he cried; 'these men can get through their +dinner with the help of their own teeth and fingers; they can hear +with their own ears: yet they must have other men's eyes to see for +them! They are in possession of all their faculties: yet they are +content to be spoken to in language which should only be addressed to +poor maimed wretches! And this goes on in broad daylight, in our +public places; and among the sufferers are men who are responsible for +the welfare of cities!' + +This he said, and much more to the same effect. At length he was +silent. All the time I had listened in awestruck attention, dreading +the moment when he should cease. And when it was all over, my +condition was like that of the Phaeacians. For a long time I gazed +upon him, spellbound; then I was seized with a violent attack of +giddiness; I was bathed in perspiration, and when I attempted to +speak, I broke down; my voice failed, my tongue stammered, and at last +I was reduced to tears. Mine was no surface wound from a random shaft. +The words had sunk deep into a vital part; had come with true aim, and +cleft my soul asunder. For (if I may venture to philosophize on my own +account) I conceive the case thus:-A well-conditioned human soul is +like a target of some soft material. As life goes on, many archers +take aim thereat; and every man's quiver is full of subtle and varied +arguments, but not every man shoots aright. Some draw the bow too +tight, and let fly with undue violence. These hit the true direction, +but their shafts do not lodge in the mark; their impetus carries them +right through the soul, and they pass on their way, leaving only a +gaping wound behind them. Others make the contrary mistake: their bows +are too slack, and their shafts never reach their destination; as +often as not their force is spent at half distance, and they drop to +earth. Or if they reach the mark, they do but graze its surface; there +can be no deep wound, where the archer lacks strength. But a good +marksman, a Nigrinus, begins with a careful examination of the mark, +in case it should be particularly soft,--or again too hard; for there +are marks which will take no impression from an arrow. Satisfied on +this point, he dips his shaft, not in the poisons of Scythia or Crete, +but in a certain ointment of his own, which is sweet in flavour and +gentle in operation; then, without more ado, he lets fly. The shaft +speeds with well-judged swiftness, cleaves the mark right through, and +remains lodged in it; and the drug works its way through every part. +Thus it is that men hear his words with mingled joy and grief; and +this was my own case, while the drug was gently diffusing itself +through my soul. Hence I was moved to apostrophize him in the words of +Homer: + + So aim; and thou shalt bring (to some) salvation. + +For as it is not every man that is maddened by the sound of the +Phrygian flute, but only those who are inspired of Cybele, and by +those strains are recalled to their frenzy,--so too not every man who +hears the words of the philosophers will go away possessed, and +stricken at heart, but only those in whose nature is something akin to +philosophy. + +_Fr_. These are fearful and wonderful words; nay, they are divine. All +that you said of ambrosia and lotus is true; I little knew how +sumptuous had been your feast. I have listened to you with strange +emotion, and now that you have ceased, I feel oppressed, nay, in your +own language, 'sore stricken.' This need not surprise you. A person +who has been bitten by a mad dog not only goes mad himself, you know, +but communicates his madness to any one whom he bites whilst he is in +that state, so that the infection may be carried on by this means +through a long succession of persons. + +_Luc_. Ah, then you confess to a tenderness? + +_Fr_. I do; and beg that you will think upon some medicine for both +our wounded breasts. + +_Luc_. We must take a hint from Telephus. + +_Fr_. What is that? + +_Luc_. We want a hair of the dog that bit us. + +F. + + + + +TRIAL IN THE COURT OF VOWELS + + +Archon, Aristarchus of Phalerum. Seventh Pyanepsion. Court of the +Seven Vowels. Action for assault with robbery. Sigma _v_. Tau. +Plaintiff's case--that the words in-pp-are wrongfully withheld from +him. + +Vowels of the jury.--For some time this Mr. Tau's trespasses and +encroachments on my property were of minor importance; I made no claim +for damages, and affected unconsciousness of what I heard; my +conciliatory temper both you and the other letters have reason to +know. His covetousness and folly, however, have now so puffed him up, +that he is no longer content with my habitual concessions, but insists +on more; I accordingly find myself compelled to get the matter settled +by you who know both sides of it. The fact is, I am in bodily fear, +owing to the crushing to which I am subjected. This evergrowing +aggression will end by ousting me completely from my own; I shall be +almost dumb, lose my rank as a letter, and be degraded to a mere +noise. + +Justice requires then that not merely you, the jury in this case, but +the other letters also, should be on your guard against such attempts. +If any one who chooses is to be licensed to leave his own place and +usurp that of others, with no objection on your part (whose +concurrence is an indispensable condition of all writing), I fail to +see how combinations are to have their ancient constitutional rights +secured to them. But my first reliance is upon you, who will surely +never be guilty of the negligence and indifference which permits +injustice; and even if you decline the contest, I have no intention of +sitting down under that injustice myself. + +It is much to be regretted that the assaults of other letters were not +repelled when they first began their lawless practices; then we should +not be watching the still pending dispute between Lambda and Rho for +possession of _kephalalgia_ or _kephalargia_, _kishlis_ or _kishris_: +Gamma would not have had to defend its rights over _gyaphalla_, +constantly almost at blows with Kappa in the debatable land, and _per +contra_ it would itself have dropped its campaign against Lambda (if +indeed it is more dignified than petty larceny) for converting _molis_ +to _mogis_: in fact lawless confusion generally would have been nipped +in the bud. And it is well to abide by the established order; such +trespasses betray a revolutionary spirit. + +Now our first legislators--Cadmus the islander, Palamedes, son of +Nauplius, or Simonides, whom some authorities credit with the +measure--were not satisfied with determining merely our order of +precedence in the alphabet; they also had an eye to our individual +qualities and faculties. You, Vowels of the jury, constitute the first +Estate, because you can be uttered independently; the semi-vowels, +requiring support before they can be distinctly heard, are the second; +and the lowest Estate they declared to consist of those nine which +cannot be sounded at all by themselves. The vowels are accordingly the +natural guardians of our laws. + +But this--this Tau--I would give him a worse designation, but that is +a manifest impossibility; for without the assistance of two good +presentable members of your Estate, Alpha and Upsilon, he would be a +mere nonentity--he it is that has dared to outdo all injuries that I +have ever known, expelling me from the nouns and verbs of my +inheritance, and hunting me out of my conjunctions and prepositions, +till his rapacity has become quite unbearable. I am now to trace +proceedings from the beginning. + +I was once staying at Cybelus, a pleasant little town, said to be an +Athenian colony; my travelling companion was the excellent Rho, best +of neighbours. My host was a writer of comedies, called Lysimachus; he +seems to have been a Boeotian by descent, though he represented +himself as coming from the interior of Attica. It was while with him +that I first detected Tau's depredations [Footnote: For the probably +corrupt passage Section 7 fin.--Section 8 init. I accept Dindorf's +rearrangement as follows: mechr men gar oligois epecheirei, +tettarakonta legein axioun, eti de taemeron kai ta homoia epispomenon, +sunaetheian thmaen idia tauti legein, kai oiston aen moi to akousma +kai ou panu ti edaknomaen ep autois. 8. hupote d ek touton arxamenon +etolmaese kattiteron eipein kai kattuma kai pittan, eita aperuthriasan +kai basilitgan onomazein, aposteroun me ton suggegenaemenun moi kai +suntethrammenun grammatun, ou metrius ipi toutois aganaktu.]. For some +earlier occasional attempts (as when he took to tettaroakonta for +tessarakonta, taemeron for saemeron, with little pilferings of that +sort) I had explained as a trick and peculiarity of pronunciation; I +had tolerated the sound without letting it annoy me seriously. + +But impunity emboldened him; kassiteros became kattiteros, kassuma and +pissa shared its fate; and then he cast off all shame and assaulted +basigissa. I found myself losing the society in which I had been born +and bred [Footnote: For the probably corrupt passage Section 7 fin.-- +Section 8 init. I accept Dindorf's rearrangement as follows: _mechr +men gar oligois epecheirei, tettarakonta legein axioun, eti de +taemeron kai ta homoia epispomenon, sunaetheian thmaen idia tauti +legein, kai oiston aen moi to akousma kai ou panu ti edaknomaen ep +autois_. 8. _hupote d ek touton arxamenon etolmaese kattiteron eipein +kai kattuma kai pittan, eita aperuthriasan kai basilitgan onomazein, +aposteroun me ton suggegenaemenun moi kai suntethrammenun grammatun, +ou metrius ipi toutois aganaktu.</i]; at such a time equanimity is out +of place; I am tortured with apprehension; how long will it be before +_suka_ is _tuka_? Bear with me, I beseech you; I despair and have none +to help me; do I not well to be angry? It is no petty everyday peril, +this threatened separation from my long-tried familiars. My _kissa_, +my talking bird that nestled in my breast, he has torn away and named +anew; my _phassa_, my _nhssai_, my _khossuphoi_--all gone; and I had +Aristarchus's own word that they were mine; half my _melissai_ he has +lured to strange hives; Attica itself he has invaded, and wrongfully +annexed its Hymettus (as he calls it); and you and the rest looked on +at the seizure. + +But why dwell on such trifles? I am driven from all Thessaly +(Thettaly, forsooth!), _thalassa_ is now _mare clausum_ to me; he will +not leave me a poor garden-herb like _seutlion_, I have never a +_passalos_ to hang myself upon. What a long-suffering letter I am +myself, your own knowledge is witness enough. When Zeta stole my +_smaragdos_, and robbed me of all Smyrna, I never took proceedings +against him; Xi might break all _sunthhkai_, and appeal to Thucydides +(who ought to know) as xympathizing with his xystem; I let them alone. +My neighbour Rho I made no difficulty about pardoning as an invalid, +when he transplanted my _mursinai_ into his garden, or, in a fit of +the spleen, took liberties with my _khopsh_. So much for my temper. + +Tau's, on the other hand, is naturally violent; its manifestations are +not confined to me. In proof that he has not spared other letters, but +assaulted Delta, Theta, Zeta, and almost the whole alphabet, I wish +his various victims to be put in the box. Now, Vowels of the jury, +mark the evidence of Delta:--'He robbed me of _endelecheia_, which he +claimed, quite illegally, as _entelecheia_.' Mark Theta beating his +breast and plucking out his hair in grief for the loss of +_kolokunthh_. And Zeta mourns for _surizein_ and _salpizein_--nay, +_cannot_ mourn, for lack of his gryzein. What tolerance is possible, +what penalty adequate, for this criminal letter's iniquities? + +But his wrongs are not even limited to us, his own species; he has now +extended his operations to mankind, as I shall show. He does not +permit their tongues to work straight. (But that mention of mankind +calls me back for a moment, reminding me how he turns glossa into +glotta, half robbing me of the tongue itself. Ay, you are a disease of +the tongue in every sense, Tau.) But I return from that digression, to +plead the cause of mankind and its wrongs. The prisoner's designs +include the constraint, racking, and mutilation of their utterance. A +man sees a beautiful thing, and wishes to describe it as kalon, but in +comes Tau, and forces the man to say talon _he_ must have precedence +everywhere, of course. Another man has something to say about a vine, +and lo, before it is out, it is metamorphosed by this miserable +creature into misery; he has changed slaema to tlaema, with a +suggestive hint of tlaemon. And, not content with middle-class +victims, he aims at the Persian king himself, the one for whom land +and sea are said to have made way and changed their nature: Cyrus +comes out at his bidding as Tyrus. + +Such are his verbal offences against man; his offences in deed remain. +Men weep, and bewail their lot, and curse Cadmus with many curses for +introducing Tau into the family of letters; they say it was his body +that tyrants took for a model, his shape that they imitated, when they +set up the erections on which men are crucified. Stayros the vile +engine is called, and it derives its vile name from him. Now, with all +these crimes upon him, does he not deserve death, nay, many deaths? +For my part I know none bad enough but that supplied by his own shape +--that shape which he gave to the gibbet named Stayros after him by +men. + +H. + + + + +TIMON THE MISANTHROPE + +_Timon. Zeus. Hermes. Plutus. Poverty. Gnathonides. Philiades. Demeas. +Thrasycles. Blepsias_. + + +_Tim_. O Zeus, thou arbiter of friendship, protector of the guest, +preserver of fellowship, lord of the hearth, launcher of the +lightning, avenger of oaths, compeller of clouds, utterer of thunder +(and pray add any other epithets; those cracked poets have plenty +ready, especially when they are in difficulties with their scansion; +then it is that a string of your names saves the situation and fills +up the metrical gaps), O Zeus, where is now your resplendent +lightning, where your deep-toned thunder, where the glowing, white- +hot, direful bolt? we know now 'tis all fudge and poetic moonshine-- +barring what value may attach to the rattle of the names. That +renowned projectile of yours, which ranged so far and was so ready to +your hand, has gone dead and cold, it seems; never a spark left in it +to scorch iniquity. + +If men are meditating perjury, a smouldering lamp-wick is as likely to +frighten them off it as the omnipotent's levin-bolt; the brand you +hold over them is one from which they see neither flame nor smoke can +come; a little soot-grime is the worst that need be apprehended from a +touch of it. No wonder if Salmoneus challenged you to a +thundering-match; he was reasonable enough when he backed his +artificial heat against so cool-tempered a Zeus. Of course he was; +there are you in your opiate-trance, never hearing the perjurers nor +casting a glance at criminals, your glazed eyes dull to all that +happens, and your ears as deaf as a dotard's. + +When you were young and keen, and your temper had some life in it, you +used to bestir yourself against crime and violence; there were no +armistices in those days; the thunderbolt was always hard at it, the +aegis quivering, the thunder rattling, the lightning engaged in a +perpetual skirmish. Earth was shaken like a sieve, buried in snow, +bombarded with hail. It rained cats and dogs (if you will pardon my +familiarity), and every shower was a waterspout. Why, in Deucalion's +time, hey presto, everything was swamped, mankind went under, and just +one little ark was saved, stranding on the top of Lycoreus and +preserving a remnant of human seed for the generation of greater +wickedness. + +Mankind pays you the natural wages of your laziness; if any one offers +you a victim or a garland nowadays, it is only at Olympia as a +perfunctory accompaniment of the games; he does it not because he +thinks it is any good, but because he may as well keep up an old +custom. It will not be long, most glorious of deities, before they +serve you as you served Cronus, and depose you. I will not rehearse +all the robberies of your temple--those are trifles; but they have +laid hands on your person at Olympia, my lord High-Thunderer, and you +had not the energy to wake the dogs or call in the neighbours; surely +they might have come to the rescue and caught the fellows before they +had finished packing up the swag. But there sat the bold Giant-slayer +and Titan-conqueror letting them cut his hair, with a fifteen-foot +thunderbolt in his hand all the time! My good sir, when is this +careless indifference to cease? how long before you will punish such +wickedness? Phaethon-falls and Deucalion-deluges--a good many of them +will be required to suppress this swelling human insolence. + +To leave generalities and illustrate from my own case--I have raised +any number of Athenians to high position, I have turned poor men into +rich, I have assisted every one that was in want, nay, flung my wealth +broadcast in the service of my friends, and now that profusion has +brought me to beggary, they do not so much as know me; I cannot get a +glance from the men who once cringed and worshipped and hung upon my +nod. If I meet one of them in the street, he passes me by as he might +pass the tombstone of one long dead; it has fallen face upwards, +loosened by time, but he wastes no moment deciphering it. Another will +take the next turning when he sees me in the distance; I am a sight of +ill omen, to be shunned by the man whose saviour and benefactor I had +been not so long ago. + +Thus in disgrace with fortune, I have betaken me to this corner of the +earth, where I wear the smock-frock and dig for sixpence a day, with +solitude and my spade to assist meditation. So much gain I reckon upon +here--to be exempt from contemplating unmerited prosperity; no sight +that so offends the eye as that. And now, Son of Cronus and Rhea, may +I ask you to shake off that deep sound sleep of yours--why, +Epimenides's was a mere nap to it--, put the bellows to your +thunderbolt or warm it up in Etna, get it into a good blaze, and give +a display of spirit, like a manly vigorous Zeus? or are we to believe +the Cretans, who show your grave among their sights? + +_Zeus_. Hermes, who is that calling out from Attica? there, on the +lower slopes of Hymettus--a grimy squalid fellow in a smock-frock; +he is bending over a spade or something; but he has a tongue in his +head, and is not afraid to use it. He must be a philosopher, to judge +from his fluent blasphemy. + +_Her_. What, father! have you forgotten Timon--son of Echecratides, of +Collytus? many is the time he has feasted us on unexceptionable +victims; the rich _parvenu_ of the whole hecatombs, you know, who used +to do us so well at the Diasia. + +_Zeus_. Dear, dear, _quantum mutatus_! is this the admired, the rich, +the popular? What has brought him to this pass? There he is in filth +and misery, digging for hire, labouring at that ponderous spade. + +_Her_. Why, if you like to put it so, it was kindness and generosity +and universal compassion that ruined him; but it would be nearer the +truth to call him a fool and a simpleton and a blunderer; he did not +realize that his proteges were carrion crows and wolves; vultures were +feeding on his unfortunate liver, and he took them for friends and +good comrades, showing a fine appetite just to please him. So they +gnawed his bones perfectly clean, sucked out with great precision any +marrow there might be in them, and went off, leaving him as dry as a +tree whose roots have been severed; and now they do not know him or +vouchsafe him a nod--no such fools--, nor ever think of showing him +charity or repaying his gifts. That is how the spade and smock-frock +are accounted for; he is ashamed to show his face in town; so he hires +himself out to dig, and broods over his wrongs--the rich men he has +made passing him contemptuously by, apparently quite unaware that his +name is Timon. + +_Zeus_. This is a case we must take up and see to. No wonder he is +down on his luck. We should be putting ourselves on the level of his +despicable sycophants, if we forgot all the fat ox and goat thighs he +has burnt on our altars; the savour of them is yet in my nostrils. But +I have been so busy, there is such a din of perjury, assault, and +burglary; I am so frightened of the temple-robbers--they swarm now, +you cannot keep them out, nor take a nap with any safety; and, with +one thing and another, it is an age since I had a look at Attica. I +have hardly been there since philosophy and argument came into +fashion; indeed, with their shouting-matches going on, prayers are +quite inaudible. One must sit with one's ears plugged, if one does not +want the drums of them cracked; such long vociferous rigmaroles about +Incorporeal Things, or something they call Virtue! That is how we came +to neglect this man--who really deserved better. + +However, go to him now without wasting any more time, Hermes, and take +Plutus with you. Thesaurus is to accompany Plutus, and they are both +to stay with Timon, and not leave him so lightly this time, even +though the generous fellow does his best to find other hosts for them. +As to those parasites, and the ingratitude they showed him, I will +attend to them before long; they shall have their deserts as soon as I +have got the thunderbolt in order again. Its two best spikes are +broken and blunted; my zeal outran my discretion the other day when I +took that shot at Anaxagoras the sophist; the Gods non-existent, +indeed! that was what he was telling his disciples. However, I missed +him (Pericles had held up his hand to shield him), and the bolt +glanced off on to the Anaceum, set it on fire, and was itself nearly +pulverized on the rock. But meanwhile it will be quite sufficient +punishment for them to see Timon rolling in money. + +_Her_. Nothing like lifting up your voice, making yourself a nuisance, +and showing a bold front; it is equally effective whether you are +pleading with juries or deities. Here is Timon developing from pauper +to millionaire, just because his prayer was loud and free enough to +startle Zeus; if he had dug quietly with his face to his work, he +might have dug to all eternity, for any notice he would have got. + +_Pl_. Well, Zeus, I am not going to him. + +_Zeus_. Your reason, good Plutus; have I not told you to go? + +_Pl_. Good God! why, he insulted me, threw me about, dismembered me-- +me, his old family friend--and practically pitchforked me out of the +house; he could not have been in a greater hurry to be rid of me if I +had been a live coal in his hand. What, go there again, to be +transferred to toadies and flatterers and harlots? No, no, Zeus; send +me to people who will appreciate the gift, take care of me, value and +cherish me. Let these gulls consort with the poverty which they prefer +to me; she will find them a smock-frock and a spade, and they can be +thankful for a miserable pittance of sixpence a day, these reckless +squanderers of 1,000 pound presents. + +_Zeus_. Ah, Timon will not treat you that way again. If his loins are +not of cast iron, his spade-work will have taught him a thing or two +about your superiority to poverty. You are so particular, you know; +now, you are finding fault with Timon for opening the door to you and +letting you wander at your own sweet will, instead of keeping you in +jealous seclusion. Yesterday it was another story: you were imprisoned +by rich men under bolts and locks and seals, and never allowed a +glimpse of sunlight. That was the burden of your complaint--you were +stifled in deep darkness. We saw you pale and careworn, your fingers +hooked with coin-counting, and heard how you would like to run away, +if only you could get the chance. It was monstrous, then, that you +should be kept in a bronze or iron chamber, like a Danae condemned to +virginity, and brought up by those stern unscrupulous tutors, +Interest, Debit and Credit. + +They were perfectly ridiculous, you know, loving you to distraction, +but not daring to enjoy you when they might; you were in their power, +yet they could not give the reins to their passion; they kept awake +watching you with their eyes glued to bolt and seal; the enjoyment +that satisfied them was not to enjoy you themselves, but to prevent +others' enjoying you--true dogs in the manger. Yes, and then how +absurd it was that they should scrape and hoard, and end by being +jealous of their own selves! Ah, if they could but see that rascally +slave--steward--trainer--sneaking in bent on carouse! little enough +_he_ troubles his head about the luckless unamiable owner at his +nightly accounts by a dim little half-fed lamp. How, pray, do you +reconcile your old strictures of this sort with your contrary +denunciation of Timon? + +_Pl_. Oh, if you consider the thing candidly, you will find both +attitudes reasonable. It is clear enough that Timon's utter negligence +comes from slackness, and not from any consideration for me. As for +the other sort, who keep me shut up in the obscurity of strong-boxes, +intent on making me heavy and fat and unwieldy, never touching me +themselves, and never letting me see the light, lest some one else +should catch sight of me, I always thought of them as fools and +tyrants; what harm had I done that they should let me rot in close +confinement? and did not they know that in a little while they would +pass away and have to resign me to some other lucky man? + +No, give me neither these nor the off-hand gentry; my beau ideal is +the man who steers a middle course, as far from complete abstention as +from utter profusion. Consider, Zeus, by your own great name; suppose +a man were to take a fair young wife, and then absolutely decline all +jealous precautions, to the point of letting her wander where she +would by day or night, keeping company with any one who had a mind to +her--or put it a little stronger, and let him be procurer, janitor, +pander, and advertiser of her charms in his own person--well, what +sort of love is his? come, Zeus, you have a good deal of experience, +you know what love is. + +On the other hand, let a man make a suitable match for the express +purpose of raising heirs, and then let him neither himself have +anything to do with her ripe, yet modest, beauty, nor allow any other +to set eyes on it, but shut her up in barren, fruitless virginity; let +him say all the while that he is in love with her, and let his pallid +hue, his wasting flesh and his sunken eyes confirm the statement;--is +he a madman, or is he not? he should be raising a family and enjoying +matrimony; but he lets this fair-faced lovely girl wither away; he +might as well be bringing up a perpetual priestess of Demeter. And now +you understand my feelings when one set of people kick me about or +waste me by the bucketful, and the others clap irons on me like a +runaway convict. + +_Zeus_. However, indignation is superfluous; both sets have just what +they deserve--one as hungry and thirsty and dry-mouthed as Tantalus, +getting no further than gaping at the gold; and the other finding its +food swept away from its very gullet, as the Harpies served Phineus. +Come, be off with you; you will find Timon has much more sense +nowadays. + +_Pl_. Oh, of course! he will not do his best to let me run out of a +leaky vessel before I have done running in! oh no, he will not be +consumed with apprehensions of the inflow's gaining on the waste and +flooding him! I shall be supplying a cask of the Danaids; no matter +how fast I pour in, the thing will not hold water; every gallon will +be out almost before it is in; the bore of the waste-pipe is so large, +and never a plug. + +_Zeus_. Well, if he does not stop the hole--if the leak is more than +temporary--you will run out in no time, and he can find his +smock-frock and spade again in the dregs of the cask. Now go along, +both of you, and make the man rich. And, Hermes, on your way back, +remember to bring the Cyclopes with you from Etna; my thunderbolt +wants the grindstone; and I have work for it as soon as it is sharp. + +_Her_. Come along, Plutus. Hullo! limping? My good man, I did not know +you were lame as well as blind. + +_Pl_. No, it is intermittent. As sure as Zeus sends me _to_ any one, a +sort of lethargy comes over me, my legs are like lead, and I can +hardly get to my journey's end; my destined host is sometimes an old +man before I reach him. As a parting guest, on the other hand, you may +see me wing my way swifter than any dream. 'Are you ready?' and almost +before 'Go' has sounded, up goes my name as winner; I have flashed +round the course absolutely unseen sometimes. + +_Her_. You are not quite keeping to the truth; I could name you plenty +of people who yesterday had not the price of a halter to hang +themselves with, and to-day have developed into lavish men of fortune; +they drive their pair of high-steppers, whereas a donkey would have +been beyond their means before. They go about in purple raiment with +jewelled fingers, hardly convinced yet that their wealth is not all a +dream. + +_Pl_. Ah, those are special cases, Hermes. I do not go on my own feet +on those occasions, and it is not Zeus who sends me, but Pluto, who +has his own ways of conferring wealth and making presents; Pluto and +Plutus are not unconnected, you see. When I am to flit from one house +to another, they lay me on parchment, seal me up carefully, make a +parcel of me and take me round. The dead man lies in some dark corner, +shrouded from the knees upward in an old sheet, with the cats fighting +for possession of him, while those who have expectations wait for me +in the public place, gaping as wide as young swallows that scream for +their mother's return. + +Then the seal is taken off, the string cut, the parchment opened, and +my new owner's name made known. It is a relation, or a parasite, or +perhaps a domestic minion, whose value lay in his vices and his smooth +cheeks; he has continued to supply his master with all sorts of +unnatural pleasures beyond the years which might excuse such service, +and now the fine fellow is richly rewarded. But whoever it is, he +snatches me up, parchment included, and is off with me in a flash; he +used to be called Pyrrhias or Dromo or Tibius, but now he is Megacles, +Megabyzus, or Protarchus; off he goes, leaving the disappointed ones +staring at each other in very genuine mourning-over the fine fish +which has jumped out of the landing-net after swallowing their good +bait. + +The fellow who _has_ pounced on me has neither taste nor feeling; the +sight of fetters still gives him a start; crack a whip in his +neighbourhood, and his ears tingle; the treadmill is an abode of awe +to him. He is now insufferable--insults his new equals, and whips his +old fellows to see what that side of the transaction feels like. He +ends by finding a mistress, or taking to the turf, or being cajoled by +parasites; these have only to swear he is handsomer than Nireus, +nobler than Cecrops or Codrus, wiser than Odysseus, richer than a +dozen Croesuses rolled into one; and so the poor wretch disperses in a +moment what cost so many perjuries, robberies, and swindles to amass. + +_Her_. A very fair picture. But when you go on your own feet, how can +a blind man like you find the way? Zeus sends you to people who he +thinks deserve riches; but how do you distinguish them? + +_Pl_. Do you suppose I do find them? not much. I should scarcely have +passed Aristides by, and gone to Hipponicus, Callias, and any number +of other Athenians whose merits could have been valued in copper. + +_Her_. Well, but what do you do when he sends you? + +_Pl_. I just wander up and down till I come across some one; the first +comer takes me off home with him, and thanks--whom but the God of +windfalls, yourself? + +_Her_. So Zeus is in error, and you do not enrich deserving persons +according to his pleasure? + +_Pl_. My dear fellow, how can he expect it? He knows I am blind, and +he sends me groping about for a thing so hard to detect, and so nearly +extinct this long time, that a Lynceus would have his work cut out +spying for its dubious remains. So you see, as the good are few, and +cities are crowded with multitudes of the bad, I am much more likely +to come upon the latter in my rambles, and they keep me in their nets. + +_Her_. But when you are leaving them, how do you find escape so easy? +you do not know the way. + +_Pl_. Ah, there is just one occasion which brings me quickness of eye +and foot; and that is flight. + +_Her_. Yet another question. You are not only blind (excuse my +frankness), but pallid and decrepit; how comes it, then, that you have +so many lovers? All men's looks are for you; if they get possession of +you, they count themselves happy men; if they miss you, life is not +worth living. Why, I have known not a few so sick for love of you that +they have scaled some sky-pointing crag, and thence hurled themselves +to unplumbed ocean depths [Footnote: See Apology for 'The Dependent +Scholar,'], when they thought they were scorned by you, because you +would not acknowledge their first salute. I am sure you know yourself +well enough to confess that they must be lunatics, to rave about such +charms as yours. + +_Pl_. Why, you do not suppose they see me in my true shape, lame, +blind, and so forth? + +_Her_. How else, unless they are all as blind themselves? + +_Pl_. They are not blind, my dear boy; but the ignorant misconceptions +now so prevalent obscure their vision. And then I contribute; not to +be an absolute fright when they see me, I put on a charming mask, all +gilt and jewels, and dress myself up. They take the mask for my face, +fall in love with its beauty, and are dying to possess it. If any one +were to strip and show me to them naked, they would doubtless reproach +themselves for their blindness in being captivated by such an ugly +misshapen creature, + +_Her_. How about fruition, then? When they are rich, and have put the +mask on themselves, they are still deluded; if any one tries to take +it off, they would sooner part with their heads than with it; and it +is not likely they do not know by that time that the beauty is +adventitious, now that they have an inside view. _Pl_. There too I +have powerful allies. + +_Her_. Namely--? + +_Pl_. When a man makes my acquaintance, and opens the door to let me +in, there enter unseen by my side Arrogance, Folly, Vainglory, +Effeminacy, Insolence, Deceit, and a goodly company more. These +possess his soul; he begins to admire mean things, pursues what he +should abhor, reveres me amid my bodyguard of the insinuating vices +which I have begotten, and would consent to anything sooner than part +with me. + +_Her_. What a smooth, slippery, unstable, evasive fellow you are, +Plutus! there is no getting a firm hold of you; you wriggle through +one's fingers somehow, like an eel or a snake. Poverty is so +different--sticky, clinging, all over hooks; any one who comes near +her is caught directly, and finds it no simple matter to get clear. +But all this gossip has put business out of our heads. + +_Pl_. Business? What business? + +_Her_. We have forgotten to bring Thesaurus, and we cannot do without +him. + +_Pl_. Oh, never mind him. When I come up to see you, I leave him on +earth, with strict orders to stay indoors, and open to no one unless +he hears my voice. + +_Her_. Then we may make our way into Attica; hold on to my cloak till +I find Timon's retreat. + +_Pl_. It is just as well to keep touch; if you let me drop behind, I +am as likely as not to be snapped up by Hyperbolus or Cleon. But what +is that noise? it sounds like iron on stone. + +_Her_. Ah, here is Timon close to us; what a steep stony little plot +he has got to dig! Good gracious, I see Poverty and Toil in +attendance, Endurance, Wisdom, Courage, and Hunger's whole company in +full force--much more efficient than your guards, Plutus. + +_Pl_. Oh dear, let us make the best of our way home, Hermes. We shall +never produce any impression on a man surrounded by such troops. + +_Her_. Zeus thought otherwise; so no cowardice. + +_Pov_. Slayer of Argus, whither away, you two hand in hand? + +_Her_. Zeus has sent us to Timon here. + +_Pov_. Now? What has Plutus to do with Timon now? I found him +suffering under Luxury's treatment, put him in the charge of Wisdom +and Toil (whom you see here), and made a good worthy man of him. Do +you take me for such a contemptible helpless creature that you can rob +me of my little all? have I perfected him in virtue, only to see +Plutus take him, trust him to Insolence and Arrogance, make him as +soft and limp and silly as before, and return him to me a worn-out rag +again? + +_Her_. It is Zeus's will. + +_Pov_. I am off, then. Toil, Wisdom, and the rest of you, quick march! +Well, he will realize his loss before long; he had a good help meet in +me, and a true teacher; with me he was healthy in body and vigorous in +spirit; he lived the life of a man, and could be independent, and see +the thousand and one needless refinements in all their absurdity. + +_Her_. There they go, Plutus; let us come to him. + +_Tim_. Who are you, villains? What do you want here, interrupting a +hired labourer? You shall have something to take with you, confound +you all! These clods and stones shall provide you with a broken head +or two. + +_Her_. Stop, Timon, don't throw. We are not men; I am Hermes, and this +is Plutus; Zeus has sent us in answer to your prayers. So knock off +work, take your fortune, and much good may it do you! + +_Tim_. I dare say you _are_ Gods; that shall not save you. I hate +every one, man or God; and as for this blind fellow, whoever he may +be, I am going to give him one over the head with my spade. + +_Pl_. For God's sake, Hermes, let us get out of this! the man is +melancholy-mad, I believe; he will do me a mischief before I get off. + +_Her_. Now don't be foolish, Timon; cease overdoing the ill-tempered +boor, hold out your hands, take your luck, and be a rich man again. +Have Athens at your feet, and from your solitary eminence you can +forget ingratitude. + +_Tim_. I have no use for you; leave me in peace; my spade is riches +enough for me; for the rest, I am perfectly happy if people will let +me alone. + +_Her_. My dear sir--so unsociable? + + So stiff and stubborn a reply to Zeus? + +A misanthrope you may well be, after the way men have treated you; but +with the Gods so thoughtful for you, you need not be a misotheist. + +_Tim_. Very well, Hermes; I am extremely obliged to you and Zeus for +your thoughtfulness--there; but I will not have Plutus. + +_Her_. Why, pray? + +_Tim_. He brought me countless troubles long ago--put me in the power +of flatterers, set designing persons on me, stirred up ill-feeling, +corrupted me with indulgence, exposed me to envy, and wound up with +treacherously deserting me at a moment's notice. Then the excellent +Poverty gave me a drilling in manly labour, conversed with me in all +frankness and sincerity, rewarded my exertions with a sufficiency, and +taught me to despise superfluities; all hopes of a livelihood were to +depend on myself, and I was to know my true wealth, unassailable by +parasites' flattery or informers' threats, hasty legislatures or +decree-mongering legislators, and which even the tyrant's machinations +cannot touch. + +So, toil-hardened, working with a will at this bit of ground, my eyes +rid of city offences, I get bread enough and to spare out of my spade. +Go your ways, then, Hermes, and take Plutus back to Zeus. I am quite +content to let every man of them go hang. + +_Her_. Oh, that would be a pity; they are not all hanging-ripe. Don't +make a passionate child of yourself, but admit Plutus. Zeus's gifts +are too good to be thrown away. + +_Pl_. Will you condescend to argue with me, Timon? or does my voice +provoke you? + +_Tim_. Oh, talk away; but be brief; no rascally lawyer's 'opening the +case.' I can put up with a few words from you, for Hermes' sake. + +_Pl_. A speech of some length might seem to be needed, considering the +number of your charges; however, just examine your imputations of +injustice. It was I that gave you those great objects of desire-- +consideration, precedence, honours, and every delight; all eyes and +tongues and attentions were yours--my gifts; and if flatterers abused +you, I am not responsible for that. It is I who should rather +complain; you prostituted me vilely to scoundrels, whose laudations +and cajolery of you were only samples of their designs upon me. As to +your saying that I wound up by betraying you, you have things +topsy-turvy again; _I_ may complain; you took every method to estrange +me, and finally kicked me out neck and crop. That is why your revered +Dame Poverty has supplied you with a smock-frock to replace your soft +raiment. Why, I begged and prayed Zeus (and Hermes heard me) that I +might be excused from revisiting a person who had been so unfriendly +to me as you. + +_Her_. But you see how he is changed, Plutus; you need not be afraid +to live with him now. Just go on digging, Timon; and you, Plutus, put +Thesaurus in position; he will come at your call. + +_Tim_. I must obey, and be a rich man again, Hermes; what can one do, +when Gods insist? But reflect what troubles you are bringing on my +luckless head; I have had a blissful life of late, and now for no +fault of my own I am to have my hands full of gold and care again. + +_Her_. Hard, intolerable fate! yet endure for my sake, if only that +the flatterers may burst themselves with envy. And now for heaven, via +Etna. + +_Pl_. He is off, I suppose, from the beating of his wings. Now, you +stay where you are, while I go and fetch Thesaurus to you; or rather, +dig hard. Here, Gold! Thesaurus I say! answer Timon's summons and let +him unearth you. Now, Timon, with a will; a deep stroke or two. I will +leave you together. + +_Tim_. Come, spade, show your mettle; stick to it; invite Thesaurus to +step up from his retreat.... O God of Wonders! O mystic priests! O +lucky Hermes! whence this flood of gold? Sure, 'tis all a dream; +methinks 'twill be ashes when I wake. And yet--coined gold, ruddy and +heavy, a feast of delight! + + O gold, the fairest gift to mortal eyes! + be it night, or be it day, + Thou dost outshine all else like living fire. + +Come to me, my own, my beloved. I doubt the tale no longer; well might +Zeus take the shape of gold; where is the maid that would not open her +bosom to receive so fair a lover gliding through the roof? + +Talk of Midas, Croesus, Delphic treasures! they were all nothing to +Timon and his wealth; why, the Persian King could not match it. My +spade, my dearest smock-frock, you must hang, a votive offering to +Pan. And now I will buy up this desert corner, and build a tiny castle +for my treasure, big enough for me to live in all alone, and, when I +am dead, to lie in. And be the rule and law of my remaining days to +shun all men, be blind to all men, scorn all men. Friendship, +hospitality, society, compassion--vain words all. To be moved by +another's tears, to assist another's need--be such things illegal and +immoral. Let me live apart like a wolf; be Timon's one friend--Timon. + +All others are my foes and ill-wishers; to hold communion with them is +pollution; to set eyes upon one of them marks the day unholy; let them +be to me even as images of bronze or stone. I will receive no herald +from them, keep with them no truce; the bounds of my desert are the +line they may not cross. Cousin and kinsman, neighbour and +countryman--these are dead useless names, wherein fools may find a +meaning. Let Timon keep his wealth to himself, scorn all men, and live +in solitary luxury, quit of flattery and vulgar praise; let him +sacrifice and feast alone, his own associate and neighbour, far from +[Footnote: Reading, with Dindorf, _hekas o`n_ for _ekseio`n_.] the +world. Yea, when his last day comes, let there be none to close his +eyes and lay him out, but himself alone. + +Be the name he loves Misanthropus, and the marks whereby he may be +known peevishness and spleen, wrath and rudeness and abhorrence. If +ever one burning to death should call for help against the flames, let +me help--with pitch and oil. If another be swept past me by a winter +torrent, and stretch out his hands for aid, then let mine press him +down head under, that he never rise again. So shall they receive as +they have given. Mover of this resolution--Timon, son of Echecratides +of Collytus. Presiding officer--the same Timon. The ayes have it. Let +it be law, and duly observed. + +All the same, I would give a good deal to have the fact of my enormous +wealth generally known; they would all be fit to hang themselves over +it.... Why, what is this? Well, that is quick work. Here they come +running from every point of the compass, all dusty and panting; they +have smelt out the gold somehow or other. Now, shall I get on top of +this knoll, keep up a galling fire of stones from my point of vantage, +and get rid of them that way? Or shall I make an exception to my law +by parleying with them for once? contempt might hit harder than +stones. Yes, I think that is better; I will stay where I am, and +receive them. Let us see, who is this in front? Ah, Gnathonides the +flatterer; when I asked an alms of him the other day, he offered me a +halter; many a cask of my wine has he made a beast of himself over. I +congratulate him on his speed; first come, first served. + +_Gna_. What did I tell them?--Timon was too good a man to be abandoned +by Providence. How are you, Timon? as good-looking and good-tempered, +as good a fellow, as ever? + +_Tim_. And you, Gnathonides, still teaching vultures rapacity, and men +cunning? + +_Gna_. Ah, he always liked his little joke. But where do you dine? I +have brought a new song with me, a march out of the last musical thing +on. + +_Tim_. It will be a funeral march, then, and a very touching one, with +spade _obbligato_. + +_Gna_. What means this? This is assault, Timon; just let me find a +witness! ... Oh, my God, my God! ... I'll have you before the +Areopagus for assault and battery. + +_Tim_. You'd better not wait much longer, or you'll have to make it +murder. + +_Gna_. Mercy, mercy! ... Now, a little gold ointment to heal the +wound; it is a first-rate styptic. + +_Tim_. What! you _won't_ go, won't you? + +_Gna_. Oh, I am going. But you shall repent this. Alas, so genial +once, and now so rude! + +_Tim_. Now who is this with the bald crown? Why, it is Philiades; if +there is a loathsome flatterer, it is he. When I sang that song that +nobody else would applaud, he lauded me to the skies, and swore no +dying swan could be more tuneful; his reward was one of my farms, and +a 500 pounds portion for his daughter. And then when he found I was +ill, and had come to him for assistance, his generous aid took the +form of blows. + +_Phil_. You shameless creatures! yes, yes, _now_ you know Timon's +merits! _now_ Gnathonides would be his friend and boon-companion! +well, he has the right reward of ingratitude. Some of us were his +familiars and playmates and neighbours; but _we_ hold back a little; +we would not seem to thrust ourselves upon him. Greeting, lord Timon; +pray let me warn you against these abominable flatterers; they are +your humble servants during meal-times, and else about as useful as +carrion crows. Perfidy is the order of the day; everywhere ingratitude +and vileness. I was just bringing a couple of hundred pounds, for your +immediate necessities, and was nearly here before I heard of your +splendid fortune. So I just came on to give you this word of caution; +though indeed you are wise enough (I would take your advice before +Nestor's myself) to need none of my counsel. + +_Tim_. Quite so, Philiades. But come near, will you not, and receive +my--spade! + +_Phil_. Help, help! this thankless brute has broken my head, for +giving him good counsel. + +_Tim_. Now for number three. Lawyer Demeas--my cousin, as he calls +himself, with a decree in his hand. Between three and four thousand it +was that I paid in to the Treasury in ready money for him; he had been +fined that amount and imprisoned in default, and I took pity on him. +Well, the other day he was distributing-officer of the festival money +[Footnote: Every citizen had the right to receive from the State the +small sum which would pay for his admission to theatrical or other +festival entertainments.]; when I applied for my share, he pretended I +was not a citizen. + +_Dem_. Hail, Timon, ornament of our race, pillar of Athens, shield of +Hellas! The Assembly and both Councils are met, and expect your +appearance. But first hear the decree which I have proposed in your +honour. 'WHEREAS Timon son of Echecratides of Collytus who adds to +high position and character a sagacity unmatched in Greece is a +consistent and indefatigable promoter of his country's good and +Whereas he has been victorious at Olympia on one day in boxing +wrestling and running as well as in the two and the four-horse chariot +races--' + +_Tim_. Why, I was never so much as a spectator at Olympia. + +_Dem_. What does that matter? you will be some day. It looks better to +have a good deal of that sort in--'and Whereas he fought with +distinction last year at Acharnae cutting two Peloponnesian companies +to pieces--' + +_Tim_. Good work that, considering that my name was not on the +muster-rolls, because I could not afford a suit of armour. + +_Dem_. Ah, you are modest; but it would be ingratitude in us to forget +your services--'and Whereas by political measures and responsible +advice and military action he has conferred great benefits on his +country Now for all these reasons it is the pleasure of the Assembly +and the Council the ten divisions of the High Court and the Borough +Councils individually and collectively THAT a golden statue of the +said Timon be placed on the Acropolis alongside of Athene with a +thunderbolt in the hand and a seven-rayed aureole on the head Further +that golden garlands be conferred on him and proclaimed this day at +the New Tragedies [Footnote: See _Dionysia_ in Notes] the said day +being kept in his honour as the Dionysia. Mover of the Decree Demeas +the pleader the said Timon's near relation and disciple the said Timon +being as distinguished in pleading as in all else wherein it pleases +him to excel.' + +So runs the decree. I had designed also to present to you my son, whom +I have named Timon after you. + +_Tim_. Why, I thought you were a bachelor, Demeas. + +_Dem_. Ah, but I intend to marry next year; my child--which is to be a +boy--I hereby name Timon. + +_Tim_. I doubt whether you will feel like marrying, my man, when I +have given you--this! + +_Dem_. Oh Lord! what is that for? ... You are plotting a _coup +d'etat_, you Timon; you assault free men, and you are neither a free +man nor a citizen yourself. You shall soon be called to account for +your crimes; it was you set fire to the Acropolis, for one thing. + +_Tim_. Why, you scoundrel, the Acropolis has not been set on fire; you +are a common blackmailer. + +_Dem_. You got your gold by breaking into the Treasury. + +_Tim_. It has not been broken into, either; you are not even +plausible. + +_Dem_. There is time for the burglary yet; meantime, you are in +possession of the treasures. + +_Tim_. Well, here is another for you, anyhow. + +_Dem_. Oh! oh! my back! + +_Tim_. Don't make such a noise, if you don't want a third. It would be +too absurd, you know, if I could cut two companies of Spartans to +pieces without my armour, and not be able to give a single little +scoundrel his deserts. My Olympic boxing and wrestling victories would +be thrown away. + +Whom have we now? is this Thrasycles the philosopher? sure enough it +is. A halo of beard, eyebrows an inch above their place, superiority +in his air, a look that might storm heaven, locks waving to the wind-- +'tis a very Boreas or Triton from Zeuxis' pencil. This hero of the +careful get-up, the solemn gait, the plain attire--in the morning he +will utter a thousand maxims, expounding Virtue, arraigning self- +indulgence, lauding simplicity; and then, when he gets to dinner after +his bath, his servant fills him a bumper (he prefers it neat), and +draining this Lethe-draught he proceeds to turn his morning maxima +inside out; he swoops like a hawk on dainty dishes, elbows his +neighbour aside, fouls his beard with trickling sauce, laps like a +dog, with his nose in his plate, as if he expected to find Virtue +there, and runs his finger all round the bowl, not to lose a drop of +the gravy. Let him monopolize pastry or joint, he will still criticize +the carving--that is all the satisfaction his ravenous greed brings +him--; when the wine is in, singing and dancing are delights not +fierce enough; he must brawl and rave. He has plenty to say in his +cups--he is then at his best in that kind--upon temperance and +decorum; he is full of these when his potations have reduced him to +ridiculous stuttering. Next the wine disagrees with him, and at last +he is carried out of the room, holding on with all his might to the +flute-girl. Take him sober, for that matter, and you will hardly find +his match at lying, effrontery or avarice. He is _facile princeps_ of +flatterers, perjury sits on his tongue-tip, imposture goes before him, +and shamelessness is his good comrade; oh, he is a most ingenious +piece of work, finished at all points, a _multum in parvo_. I am +afraid his kind heart will be grieved presently. Why, how is this, +Thrasycles? I must say, you have taken your time about coming. + +_Thr_. Ah, Timon, I am not come like the rest of the crowd; _they_ are +dazzled by your wealth; they are gathered together with an eye to gold +and silver and high living; they will soon be showing their servile +tricks before your unsuspicious, generous self. As for me, you know a +crust is all the dinner I care for; the relish I like best is a bit of +thyme or cress; on festal days I may go as far as a sprinkling of +salt. My drink is the crystal spring; and this threadbare cloak is +better than your gay robes. Gold--I value it no higher than pebbles on +the beach. What brought _me_ was concern for you; I would not have you +ruined by this same pestilent wealth, this temptation for plunderers; +many is the man it has sunk in helpless misery. Take my advice, and +fling it bodily into the sea; a good man, to whom the wealth of +philosophy is revealed, has no need of the other. It does not matter +about deep water, my good sir; wade in up to your waist when the tide +is near flood, and _let no one see you but me_. Or if that is not +satisfactory, here is another plan even better. Get it all out of the +house as quick as you can, not reserving a penny for yourself, and +distribute it to the poor five shillings to one, five pounds to +another, a hundred to a third; philosophy might constitute a claim to +a double or triple share. For my part--and I do not ask for myself, +only to divide it among my needy friends--I should be quite content +with as much as my scrip would hold; it is something short of two +standard bushels; if one professes philosophy, one must be moderate +and have few needs--none that go beyond the capacity of a scrip. + +_Tim_. Very right, Thrasycles. But instead of a mere scripful, pray +take a whole headful of clouts, standard measure by the spade. + +_Thr_. Land of liberty, equality, legality! protect me against this +ruffian! + +_Tim_. What is your grievance, my good man? is the measure short? here +is a pint or two extra, then, to put it right. + +Why, what now? here comes a crowd; friend Blepsias, Laches, Gniphon; +their name is legion; they shall howl soon. I had better get up on the +rock; my poor tired spade wants a little rest; I will collect all the +stones I can lay hands on, and pepper them at long range. + +_Bl_. Don't throw, Timon; we are going. + +_Tim_. Whether the retreat will be bloodless, however, is another +question. + +H. + + + + +PROMETHEUS ON CAUCASUS + +_Hermes. Hephaestus. Prometheus._ + + +_Her_. This, Hephaestus, is the Caucasus, to which it is our painful +duty to nail our companion. We have now to select a suitable crag, +free from snow, on which the chains will have a good hold, and the +prisoner will hang in all publicity. + +_Heph_. True. It will not do to fix him too low down, or these _men_ +of his might come to their maker's assistance; nor at the top, where +he would be invisible from the earth. What do you say to a middle +course? Let him hang over this precipice, with his arms stretched +across from crag to crag. + +_Her_. The very thing. Steep rocks, slightly overhanging, inaccessible +on every side; no foothold but a mere ledge, with scarcely room for +the tips of one's toes; altogether a sweet spot for a crucifixion. +Now, Prometheus, come and be nailed up; there is no time to lose. + +_Prom_. Nay, hear me; Hephaestus! Hermes! I suffer injustice: have +compassion on my woes! + +_Her_. In other words, disobey orders, and promptly be gibbeted in +your stead! Do you suppose there is not room on the Caucasus to peg +out a couple of us? Come, your right hand! clamp it down, Hephaestus, +and in with the nails; bring down the hammer with a will. Now the +left; make sure work of that too.--So!--The eagle will shortly be +here, to trim your liver; so ingenious an artist is entitled to every +attention. + +_Prom_. O Cronus, and Iapetus, and Mother Earth! Behold the sufferings +of the innocent! + +_Her_. Why, as to innocence,--to begin with, there was that business +of the sacrificial meats, your manner of distributing which was most +unfair, most disingenuous: you got all the choice parts for yourself, +and put Zeus off with bones 'wrapped up in shining fat'; I remember +the passage in Hesiod; those are his very words. Then you made these +human beings; creatures of unparalleled wickedness, the women +especially. And to crown all, you stole fire, the most precious +possession of the Gods, and gave it to them. And with all this on your +conscience, you protest that you have done nothing to deserve +captivity. + +_Prom_. Ah, Hermes; you are as bad as Hector; you 'blame the +blameless.' For such crimes as these, I deserve a round pension, if +justice were done. And by the way, I should like, if you can spare the +time, to answer to these charges, and satisfy you of the injustice of +my sentence. You can employ your practised eloquence on behalf of +Zeus, and justify his conduct in nailing me up here at the Gates of +the Caspian, for all Scythia to behold and pity. + +_Her_. There is nothing to be gained now by an appeal to another +court; it is too late. Proceed, however. We have to wait in any case +till the eagle comes to look after that liver of yours; and the time +might be worse spent than in listening to the subtleties of such a +master in impudence as yourself. + +_Prom_. You begin then, Hermes. Exert all your powers of invective; +leave no stone unturned to establish the righteousness of papa's +judgements.--You, Hephaestus, shall compose the jury. + +_Heph_. The jury! Not a bit of it; I am a party in this case. My +furnace has been cold, ever since you stole that fire. + +_Prom_. Well, at this rate you had better divide the prosecution +between you. You conduct the case of larceny, and Hermes can handle +the man-making, and the misappropriation of meat. I shall expect a +great deal of you; you are both artists. + +_Heph_. Hermes shall speak for me. The law is not in my line; my +forge takes up most of my time. But Hermes is an orator; he has made a +study of these things. + +_Prom_. Well! I should never have thought that Hermes would have the +heart to reproach me with larceny; he ought to have a fellow-feeling +for me there. However, with this further responsibility on your +shoulders, there is no time to be lost, son of Maia; out with your +accusation, and have done with it. + +_Her_. To deal adequately with your crimes, Prometheus, would require +many words and much preparation. It is not enough to mention the +several counts of the accusation; how, entrusted with the distribution +of meats, you defrauded the crown by retaining the choicer portions +for your own use; how you created the race of men, with absolutely no +justification for so doing; how you stole fire and conveyed it to +these same men. You seem not to realize, my friend, that, all-things +considered, Zeus has dealt very handsomely by you. Now, if you deny +the charges, I shall be compelled to establish your guilt at some +length, and to set the facts in the clearest possible light. But if +you admit the distribution of meat in the manner described, the +introduction of men, and the theft of fire,--then my case is complete, +and there is no more to be said. To expatiate further would be to talk +nonsense. + +_Prom_. Perhaps there has been some nonsense talked already; that +remains to be seen. But as you say your case is now complete, I will +see what I can do in the way of refutation. And first about that meat. +Though, upon my word, I blush for Zeus when I name it: to think that +he should be so touchy about trifles, as to send off a God of my +quality to crucifixion, just because he found a little bit of bone in +his share! Does he forget the services I have rendered him? And does +he think what it is that he is so angry about, and how childish it is +to show temper about a little thing like that? What if he did miss +getting the better share? Why, Hermes, these tricks that are played +over the wine-cups are not worth thinking twice about. A joke, +perhaps, is carried a little too far, in the warmth of the feast; +still, it is a joke, and resentment should be left behind in the dregs +of the bowl. I have no patience with your long memories; this nursing +of grievances, this raking up of last night's squabbles, is unworthy +of a king, let alone a king of Gods. Once take away from our feasts +the little elegancies of quip and crank and wile, and what is left? +Muzziness; repletion; silence;--cheerful accompaniments these to the +wine-bowl! For my part, I never supposed that Zeus would give the +matter a thought the next morning; much less that he would make such a +stir about it, and think himself so mightily injured; my little +manoeuvre with the meat was merely a playful experiment, to see which +he would choose. It might have been worse. Instead of giving him the +inferior half, I might have defrauded him of the whole. And what if I +had? Would that have been a case for putting heaven and earth in +commotion, for deep designs of chain and cross and Caucasus, +dispatchings of eagles, rendings of livers? These things tell a sad +tale, do they not, of the puny soul, the little mind, the touchy +temper of the aggrieved party? How would he take the loss of a whole +ox, who storms to such purpose over a few pounds of meat? How much +more reasonable is the conduct of mortals, though one would have +expected them to be more irritable than Gods! A mortal would never +want his cook crucified for dipping a finger into the stew-pan, or +filching a mouthful from the roast; they overlook these things. At the +worst their resentment is satisfied with a box on the ears or a rap on +the head. I find no precedent among them for crucifixion in such +cases. So much for the affair of the meat; there is little credit to +be got in the refutation of such a charge, and still less in the +bringing of it. + +I am next to speak of my creation of mankind. And here the terms of +your accusation are ambiguous. I have to choose between two distinct +possibilities. Do you maintain that I had no right to create men at +all, that I ought to have left the senseless clay alone? Or do you +only complain of the form in which I designed them? However, I shall +have something to say on both points. I shall first endeavour to show +that no harm has accrued to the Gods from my bringing mankind into +existence; and shall then proceed to the positive advantages and +improvements which have resulted to them from the peopling of the +earth. The question as to the harm done by my innovation is best +answered by an appeal to the past, to those days when the race of +heaven-born Gods stood alone, and earth was a hideous shapeless mass, +a tangle of rude vegetation. The Gods had no altars then, nor temples +(for who should raise them?), no images of wood or stone, such as now +abound in every corner of the earth, and are honoured with all +observance. It was to me that the idea occurred--amid my ceaseless +meditations on the common welfare, on the aggrandizement of the Gods +and the promotion of order and beauty in the universe--of setting all +to rights with a handful of clay; of creating living things, and +moulding them after our own likeness. I saw what was lacking to our +godhead: some counterpart, some foil wherein to set off its +blessedness. And that counterpart must be mortal; but in all else +exquisitely contrived, perfect in intelligence, keen to appreciate our +superiority. Thereupon, I moulded my material, + + With water mingling clay, + +and created man, calling in Athene to aid me in the task. And this is +my rank offence against the Gods. Destructive work,--to reduce +inanimate clay to life and motion! The Gods, it seems, are Gods no +longer, now that there are mortal creatures on the earth. To judge at +least by Zeus's indignation, one would suppose that the Gods suffered +some loss of prestige from the creation of mankind; unless it is that +he is afraid of another revolt, of their waging war with heaven, like +the Giants. + +That the cause of the Gods suffered nothing at my hands is evident; +show me the slightest instance to the contrary, and I will say no +more; I have but my deserts. But for the positive benefits I have +conferred, use the evidence of your eyes. The earth, no longer barren +and untilled, is decked with cities and farms and the fruits of +cultivation; the sea has its ships, the islands their inhabitants. +Everywhere are altars and temples, everywhere festivals and +sacrifices: + + Zeus with his presence fills their gatherings, + He fills their streets. + +Had I created mankind for my own private convenience, it might perhaps +have denoted a grasping spirit: but I made them common property; they +are at the service of every God of you. Nay more: temples of Zeus, and +Apollo, and Hera, temples of Hermes, are everywhere to be seen; but +who ever saw a temple of Prometheus? You may judge from this, how far +I have sacrificed the common cause to my private ambition. + +And further. Consider, Hermes: can any good thing whatsoever, be it +gift of Nature or work of our hands, give the full measure of +enjoyment to its possessor, when there is none to see, none to admire? +You see whither my question tends? But for mankind, the glories of the +universe must have been without a witness; and there was little +satisfaction to be derived from a wealth which was doomed to excite no +envy in others. We should have lacked a standard for comparison; and +should never have known the extent of our happiness, while all were as +happy as ourselves. The great is not great, till it is compared with +the small. Yet instead of honouring me for my political insight, you +crucify me; such are the wages of wisdom! + +Ah, but (you will say) there is so much wickedness among them; +adultery, war, incest, parricide. Well, I fancy these are not unknown +among ourselves? And I am sure no one would think that a reason for +saying that Uranus and Ge made a mistake in creating us. Or again, you +will complain that we have so much trouble in looking after them. At +that rate, a shepherd ought to object to the possession of a flock, +because he has to look after it. Besides, a certain show of occupation +is rather gratifying than otherwise; the responsibility is not +unwelcome,--it helps to pass the time. What should we do, if we had +not mankind to think of? There would be nothing to live for; we should +sit about drinking nectar and gorging ourselves with ambrosia. But +what fairly takes away my breath is, your assurance in finding fault +with my _women_ in particular, when all the time you are in love +with them: our bulls and satyrs and swans are never tired of making +descents upon the Earth; women, they find, are good enough to be made +the mothers of Gods! + +Yes, yes (you will say), it was quite right that men should be +created, but they should not have been made in our likeness. And what +better model could I have taken than this, whose perfection I knew? +Was I to make them brute beasts without understanding? Had they been +other than they are, how should they have paid you due honour and +sacrifice? When the hecatombs are getting ready, you think nothing of +a journey to the ends of the earth to see the 'blameless Ethiopians'; +and my reward for procuring you these advantages is--crucifixion! But +on this subject I have said enough. + +And now, with your permission, I will approach the subject of that +stolen fire, of which we hear so much. I have a question to ask, which +I beg you will answer frankly. Has there been one spark less fire in +Heaven, since men shared it with us? Of course not. It is the nature +of fire, that it does not become less by being imparted to others. A +fire is not put out by kindling another from it. No, this is sheer +envy: you cannot bear that men should have a share of this necessary, +though you have suffered no harm thereby. For shame! Gods should be +beneficent, 'givers of good'; they should be above all envy. Had I +taken away fire altogether, and left not a spark behind, it would have +been no great loss. You have no use for it. You are never cold; you +need no artificial light; nor is ambrosia improved by boiling. To man, +on the other hand, fire is indispensable for many purposes, +particularly for those of sacrifice; how else are they to fill their +streets with the savour of burnt-offerings, and the fumes of +frankincense I how else to burn fat thigh-pieces upon your altars? I +observe that you take a particular pleasure in the steam arising +therefrom, and think no feast more delicious than the smell of roast +meat, as it mounts heavenwards + + In eddying clouds of smoke. + +Your present complaint, you see, is sadly at variance with this taste. +I wonder you do not forbid the Sun to shine on mankind. He too is of +fire, and fire of a purer and diviner quality. Has anything been said +to _him_ about his lavish expenditure of your property? + +And now I have done. If there is any flaw in my defence, it is for you +two to refute me. I shall answer your objections in due course. + +_Her_. Nay, you are too hard for us, Prometheus; we will not attempt a +sophist of your mettle. Well for you that Zeus is not within earshot, +or you would have had a round dozen of hungry vultures to reckon with, +for certain; in clearing your own character, you have grievously +mishandled his. But one thing puzzles me: you are a prophet; you ought +to have foreseen your sentence. + +_Prom_. All this I knew, and more than this; for I shall be released; +nay, even now the day is not far off when one of your blood shall come +from Thebes, and shoot this eagle with which you threaten me +[Footnote: See _Prometheus_ in Notes.]. + +_Her_. With all my heart! I shall be delighted to see you free again, +and feasting in our midst; but not, my friend, not carving for us! + +_Prom_. You may take my word for it; I shall be with you again. I have +the wherewithal to pay abundantly for my ransom. + +_Her_. Oh, indeed? Come, tell us all about it. + +_Prom_. You know Thetis--But no; the secret is best kept. Ransom and +reward depend upon it. + +_Her_. Well, you know best. Now, Hephaestus, we must be going; see, +here comes the eagle.--Bear a brave heart, Prometheus; and all speed +to your Theban archer, who is to set a term to this creature's +activity. + +F. + + + + +DIALOGUES OF THE GODS + +I + +_Prometheus. Zeus_ + + +_Prom_. Release me, Zeus; I have suffered enough. + +_Zeus_. Release you? you? Why, by rights your irons should be heavier, +you should have the whole weight of Caucasus upon you, and instead of +one, a dozen vultures, not just pecking at your liver, but scratching +out your eyes. You made these abominable human creatures to vex us, +you stole our fire, you invented women. I need not remind you how you +overreached me about the meat-offerings; my portion, bones disguised +in fat: yours, all the good. + +_Prom_. And have I not been punished enough--riveted to the Caucasus +all these years, feeding your bird (on which all worst curses light!) +with my liver? + +_Zeus_. 'Tis not a tithe of your deserts. + +_Prom_. Consider, I do not ask you to release me for nothing. I offer +you information which is invaluable. + +_Zeus_. Promethean wiles! + +_Prom_. Wiles? to what end? you can find the Caucasus another time; +and there are chains to be had, if you catch me cheating. + +_Zeus_. Tell me first the nature of your 'invaluable' offer. + +_Prom_. If I tell you your present errand right, will that convince +you that I can prophesy too? + +_Zeus_. Of course it will. + +_Prom_. You are bound on a little visit to Thetis. + +_Zeus_. Right so far. And the sequel? I trust you now. + +_Prom_. Have no dealings with her, Zeus. As sure as Nereus's daughter +conceives by you, your child shall mete you the measure you meted to-- + +_Zeus_. I shall lose my kingdom, you would say? + +_Prom_. Avert it, Fate! I say only, that union portends this issue. + +_Zeus_. Thetis, farewell! and for this Hephaestus shall set you free. + +H. + + + + +II + +_Eros. Zeus_ + + +_Eros_. You might let me off, Zeus! I suppose it _was_ rather too bad +of me; but there!--I am but a child; a wayward child. + +_Zeus_. A child, and born before Iapetus was ever thought of? You bad +old man! Just because you have no beard, and no white hairs, are you +going to pass yourself off for a child? + +_Eros_. Well, and what such mighty harm has the old man ever done you, +that you should talk of chains? + +_Zeus_. Ask your own guilty conscience, what harm. The pranks you have +played me! Satyr, bull, swan, eagle, shower of gold,--I have been +everything in my time; and I have you to thank for it. You never by +any chance make the women in love with _me_; no one is ever smitten +with _my_ charms, that I have noticed. No, there must be magic in it +always; I must be kept well out of sight. They like the bull or the +swan well enough: but once let them set eyes on _me_, and they are +frightened out of their lives. + +_Eros_. Well, of course. They are but mortals; the sight of Zeus is +too much for them. + +_Zeus_. Then why are Branchus and Hyacinth so fond of Apollo? + +_Eros_. Daphne ran away from him, anyhow; in spite of his beautiful +hair and his smooth chin. Now, shall I tell you the way to win hearts? +Keep that aegis of yours quiet, and leave the thunderbolt at home; +make yourself as smart as you can; curl your hair and tie it up with a +bit of ribbon, get a purple cloak, and gold-bespangled shoes, and +march forth to the music of flute and drum;--and see if you don't get +a finer following than Dionysus, for all his Maenads. + +_Zeus_. Pooh! I'll win no hearts on such terms. + +_Eros_. Oh, in that case, don't fall in love. Nothing could be +simpler. + +_Zeus_. I dare say; but I like being in love, only I don't like all +this fuss. Now mind; if I let you off, it is on this understanding. + +F. + + + + +III + +_Zeus. Hermes_ + + +_Zeus_. Hermes, you know Inachus's beautiful daughter? + +_Her_. I do. Io, you mean? + +_Zeus_. Yes; she is not a girl now, but a heifer. + +_Her_. Magic at work! how did that come about? + +_Zeus_. Hera had a jealous fit, and transformed her. But that is not +all; she has thought of a new punishment for the poor thing. She has +put a cowherd in charge, who is all over eyes; this Argus, as he is +called, pastures the heifer, and never goes to sleep. + +_Her_. Well, what am I to do? + +_Zeus_. Fly down to Nemea, where the pasture is, kill Argus, take Io +across the sea to Egypt, and convert her into Isis. She shall be +henceforth an Egyptian Goddess, flood the Nile, regulate the winds, +and rescue mariners. + +H. + + + + +VI + +_Hera_. Zeus_ + + +_Hera_. Zeus! What is your opinion of this man Ixion? + +_Zeus_. Why, my dear, I think he is a very good sort of man; and the +best of company. Indeed, if he were unworthy of our company, he would +not be here. + +_Hera_. He _is_ unworthy! He is a villain! Discard him! + +_Zeus_. Eh? What has he been after? I must know about this. + +_Hera_. Certainly you must; though I scarce know how to tell you. The +wretch! + +_Zeus_. Oh, oh; if he is a 'wretch,' you must certainly tell me all +about it. I know what 'wretch' means, on your discreet tongue. What, +he has been making love? + +_Hera_. And to me! to me of all people! It has been going on for a +long time. At first, when he would keep looking at me, I had no idea--. +And then he would sigh and groan; and when I handed my cup to +Ganymede after drinking, he would insist on having it, and would stop +drinking to kiss it, and lift it up to his eyes; and then he would +look at me again. And then of course I knew. For a long time I didn't +like to say anything to you; I thought his mad fit would pass. But +when he actually dared to _speak_ to me, I left him weeping and +groveling about, and stopped my ears, so that I might not hear his +impertinences, and came to tell you. It is for you to consider what +steps you will take. + +_Zeus_. Whew! I have a rival, I find; and with my own lawful wife. +Here is a rascal who has tippled nectar to some purpose. Well, we have +no one but ourselves to blame for it: we make too much of these +mortals, admitting them to our table like this. When they drink of our +nectar, and behold the beauties of Heaven (so different from those of +Earth!), 'tis no wonder if they fall in love, and form ambitious +schemes! Yes, Love is all-powerful; and not with mortals only: we Gods +have sometimes fallen beneath his sway. + +_Hera_. He has made himself master of _you_; no doubt of that. He does +what he likes with you;--leads you by the nose. You follow him whither +he chooses, and assume every shape at his command; you are his +chattel, his toy. I know how it will be: you are going to let Ixion +off, because you have had relations with his wife; she is the mother +of Pirithous. + +_Zeus_. Why, what a memory you have for these little outings of mine! +--Now, my idea about Ixion is this. It would never do to punish +him, or to exclude him from our table; that would not look well. No; +as he is so fond of you, so hard hit--even to weeping point, you tell +me,-- + +_Hera_. Zeus! What _are_ you going to say? + +_Zeus_. Don't be alarmed. Let us make a cloud-phantom in your +likeness, and after dinner, as he lies awake (which of course he will +do, being in love), let us take it and lay it by his side. 'Twill put +him out of his pain: he will fancy he has attained his desire. + +_Hera_. Never! The presumptuous villain! + +_Zeus_. Yes, I know. But what harm can it do to you, if Ixion makes a +conquest of a cloud? + +_Hera_. But he will think that _I_ am the cloud; he will be working +his wicked will upon _me_ for all he can tell. + +_Zeus_. Now you are talking nonsense. The cloud is not Hera, and Hera +is not the cloud. Ixion will be deceived; that is all. + +_Hera_. Yes, but these men are all alike--they have no delicacy. I +suppose, when he goes home, he will boast to every one of how he has +enjoyed the embraces of Hera, the wife of Zeus! Why, he may tell them +that _I_ am in love with _him_! And they will believe it; _they_ will +know nothing about the cloud. + +_Zeus_. If he says anything of the kind he shall soon find himself in +Hades, spinning round on a wheel for all eternity. That will keep him +busy! And serve him right; not for falling in love--I see no great +harm in that--but for letting his tongue wag. + +F. + + + + +VII + +_Hephaestus. Apollo_ + + +_Heph_. Have you seen Maia's baby, Apollo? such a pretty little thing, +with a smile for everybody; you can see it is going to be a treasure. + +_Ap_. That baby a treasure? well, in mischief, Iapetus is young beside +it. + +_Heph_. Why, what harm can it do, only just born? + +_Ap_. Ask Posidon; it stole his trident. Ask Ares; he was surprised to +find his sword gone out of the scabbard. Not to mention myself, +disarmed of bow and arrows. + +_Heph_. Never! that infant? he has hardly found his legs yet; he is +not out of his baby-linen. + +_Ap_. Ah, you will find out, Hephaestus, if he gets within reach of +you. + +_Heph_. He has been. + +_Ap_. Well? all your tools safe? none missing? + +_Heph_. Of course not. + +_Ap_. I advise you to make sure. + +_Heph_. Zeus! where are my pincers? + +_Ap_. Ah, you will find them among the baby-linen. + +_Heph_. So light-fingered? one would swear he had practised petty +larceny in the womb. + +_Ap_. Ah, and you don't know what a glib young chatterbox he is; and, +if he has his way, he is to be our errand-boy! Yesterday he challenged +Eros--tripped up his heels somehow, and had him on his back in a +twinkling; before the applause was over, he had taken the opportunity +of a congratulatory hug from Aphrodite to steal her girdle; Zeus had +not done laughing before--the sceptre was gone. If the thunderbolt had +not been too heavy, and very hot, he would have made away with that +too. + +_Heph_. The child has some spirit in him, by your account. + +_Ap_. Spirit, yes--and some music, moreover, young as he is. + +_Heph_. How can you tell that? + +_Ap_. He picked up a dead tortoise somewhere or other, and contrived +an instrument with it. He fitted horns to it, with a cross-bar, stuck +in pegs, inserted a bridge, and played a sweet tuneful thing that made +an old harper like me quite envious. Even at night, Maia was saying, +he does not stay in Heaven; he goes down poking his nose into Hades-- +on a thieves' errand, no doubt. Then he has a pair of wings, and he +has made himself a magic wand, which he uses for marshalling souls-- +convoying the dead to their place. + +_Heph_. Ah, I gave him that, for a toy. + +_Ap_. And by way of payment he stole-- + +_Heph_. Well thought on; I must go and get them; you may be right +about the baby-linen. + +H. + + + + +VIII _Hephaestus. Zeus_ + + +_Heph_. What are your orders, Zeus? You sent for me, and here I am; +with such an edge to my axe as would cleave a stone at one blow. + +_Zeus_. Ah; that's right, Hephaestus. Just split my head in half, will +you? + +_Heph_. You think I am mad, perhaps?--Seriously, now, what can I do +for you? + +_Zeus_. What I say: crack my skull. Any insubordination, now, and you +shall taste my resentment; it will not be the first time. Come, a good +lusty stroke, and quick about it. I am in the pangs of travail; my +brain is in a whirl. + +_Heph_. Mind you, the consequences may be serious: the axe is sharp, +and will prove but a rough midwife. + +_Zeus_. Hew away, and fear nothing. I know what I am about. + +_Heph_. H'm. I don't like it: however, one must obey orders.... Why, +what have we here? A maiden in full armour! This is no joke, Zeus. You +might well be waspish, with this great girl growing up beneath your +_pia mater_; in armour, too! You have been carrying a regular barracks +on your shoulders all this time. So active too! See, she is dancing a +war-dance, with shield and spear in full swing. She is like one +inspired; and (what is more to the point) she is extremely pretty, and +has come to marriageable years in these few minutes; those grey eyes, +even, look well beneath a helmet. Zeus, I claim her as the fee for my +midwifery. + +_Zeus_. Impossible! She is determined to remain a maid for ever. Not +that _I_ have any objection, personally. + +_Heph_. That is all I want. You can leave the rest to me. I'll carry +her off this moment. + +_Zeus_. Well, if you think it so easy. But I am sure it is a hopeless +case. + +F. + + + + +XI + +_Aphrodite. Selene_ + + +_Aph_. What is this I hear about you, Selene? When your car is over +Caria, you stop it to gaze at Endymion sleeping hunter-fashion in the +open; sometimes, they tell me, you actually get out and go down to +him. + +_Sel_. Ah, Aphrodite, ask that son of yours; it is he must answer for +it all. + +_Aph_. Well now, what a naughty boy! he gets his own mother into all +sorts of scrapes; I must go down, now to Ida for Anchises of Troy, now +to Lebanon for my Assyrian stripling;--mine? no, he put Persephone in +love with him too, and so robbed me of half my darling. I have told +him many a time that if he would not behave himself I would break his +artillery for him, and clip his wings; and before now I have smacked +his little behind with my slipper. It is no use; he is frightened and +cries for a minute or two, and then forgets all about it. But tell me, +is Endymion handsome? That is always a comfort in our humiliation. + +_Sel_. _Most_ handsome, _I_ think, my dear; you should see him when he +has spread out his cloak on the rock and is asleep; his javelins in +his left hand, just slipping from his grasp, the right arm bent +upwards, making a bright frame to the face, and he breathing softly in +helpless slumber. Then I come noiselessly down, treading on tiptoe not +to wake and startle him--but there, you know all about it; why tell +you the rest? I am dying of love, that is all. + +H. + + + + +XII + +_Aphrodite. Eros_ + + +_Aph_. Child, child, you must think what you are doing. It is bad +enough on earth,--you are always inciting men to do some mischief, to +themselves or to one another;--but I am speaking of the Gods. You +change Zeus into shape after shape as the fancy takes you; you make +Selene come down from the sky; you keep Helius loitering about with +Clymene, till he sometimes forgets to drive out at all. As for the +naughty tricks you play on your own mother, you know you are safe +there. But Rhea! how could you _dare_ to set her on thinking of that +young fellow in Phrygia, an old lady like her, the mother of so many +Gods? Why, you have made her quite mad: she harnesses those lions of +hers, and drives about all over Ida with the Corybantes, who are as +mad as herself, shrieking high and low for Attis; and there they are, +slashing their arms with swords, rushing about over the hills, like +wild things, with dishevelled hair, blowing horns, beating drums, +clashing cymbals; all Ida is one mad tumult. I am quite uneasy about +it; yes, you wicked boy, your poor mother is quite uneasy: some day +when Rhea is in one of her mad fits (or when she is in her senses, +more likely), she will send the Corybantes after you, with orders to +tear you to pieces, or throw you to the lions. You are so venturesome! + +_Eros_. Be under no alarm, mother; I understand lions perfectly by +this time. I get on to their backs every now and then, and take hold +of their manes, and ride them about; and when I put my hand into their +mouths, they only lick it, and let me take it out again. Besides, how +is Rhea going to have time to attend to me? She is too busy with +Attis. And I see no harm in just pointing out beautiful things to +people; they can leave them alone;--it is nothing to do with me. And +how would you like it if Ares were not in love with you, or you with +him? + +_Aph_. Masterful boy! always the last word! But you will remember this +some day. + +F. + + + + +XIII + +_Zeus. Asclefius. Heracles_ + + +_Zeus_. Now, Asclepius and Heracles, stop that quarrelling; you might +as well be men; such behaviour is very improper and out of place at +the table of the Gods. + +_Her_. Is this druggist fellow to have a place above me, Zeus? + +_Asc_. Of course I am; I am your better. + +_Her_. Why, you numskull? because it was Zeus's bolt that cracked your +skull, for your unholy doings, and now you have been allowed your +immortality again out of sheer pity? + +_Asc_. You twit me with my fiery end; you seem to have forgotten that +you too were burnt to death, on Oeta. + +_Her_. Was there no difference between your life and mine, then? I am +Zeus's son, and it is well known how I toiled, cleansing the earth, +conquering monsters, and chastising men of violence. Whereas you are a +root-grubber and a quack; I dare say you have your use for doctoring +sick men, but you never did a bold deed in your life. + +_Asc_. That comes well from you, whose burns I healed, when you came +up all singed not so long ago; between the tunic and the flames, your +body was half consumed. Anyhow, it would be enough to mention that I +was never a slave like you, never combed wool in Lydia, masquerading +in a purple shawl and being slippered by an Omphale, never killed my +wife and children in a fit of the spleen. Her. If you don't stop being +rude, I shall soon show you that immortality is not much good. I will +take you up and pitch you head over heels out of Heaven, and Apollo +himself shall never mend your broken crown. Zeus. Cease, I say, and +let us hear ourselves speak, or I will send you both away from table. +Heracles, Asclepius died before you, and has the right to a better +place. + +H. + + + + +XIV + +_Hermes. Apollo_ + + +_Her_. Why so sad, Apollo? + +_Ap_. Alas, Hermes,--my love! + +_Her_. Oh; that's bad. What, are you still brooding over that affair +of Daphne? + +_Ap_. No. I grieve for my beloved; the Laconian, the son of Oebalus. + +_Her_. Hyacinth? he is not dead? + +_Ap_. Dead. + +_Her_. Who killed him? Who could have the heart? That lovely boy! + +_Ap_. It was the work of my own hand. + +_Her_. You must have been mad! + +_Ap_. Not mad; it was an accident. + +_Her_. Oh? and how did it happen? + +_Ap_. He was learning to throw the quoit, and I was throwing with him. +I had just sent my quoit up into the air as usual, when jealous Zephyr +(damned be he above all winds! he had long been in love with Hyacinth, +though Hyacinth would have nothing to say to him)--Zephyr came +blustering down from Taygetus, and dashed the quoit upon the child's +head; blood flowed from the wound in streams, and in one moment all +was over. My first thought was of revenge; I lodged an arrow in +Zephyr, and pursued his flight to the mountain. As for the child, I +buried him at Amyclae, on the fatal spot; and from his blood I have +caused a flower to spring up, sweetest, fairest of flowers, inscribed +with letters of woe.--Is my grief unreasonable? + +_Her_. It is, Apollo. You knew that you had set your heart upon a +mortal: grieve not then for his mortality. + +F. + + + + +XV + +_Hermes. Apollo_ + + +_Her_. To think that a cripple and a blacksmith like him should marry +two such queens of beauty as Aphrodite and Charis! + +_Ap_. Luck, Hermes--that is all. But I do wonder at their putting up +with his company; they see him running with sweat, bent over the +forge, all sooty-faced; and yet they cuddle and kiss him, and sleep +with him! + +_Her_. Yes, it makes me angry too; how I envy him! Ah, Apollo, you may +let your locks grow, and play your harp, and be proud of your looks; I +am a healthy fellow, and can touch the lyre; but, when it comes to +bedtime, we lie alone. + +_Ap_. Well, my loves never prosper; Daphne and Hyacinth were my great +passions; she so detested me that being turned to a tree was more +attractive than I; and him I killed with a quoit. Nothing is left me +of them but wreaths of their leaves and flowers. + +_Her_. Ah, once, once, I and Aphrodite--but no; no boasting. + +_Ap_. I know; that is how Hermaphroditus is accounted for. But perhaps +you can tell me how it is that Aphrodite and Charis are not jealous of +one another. + +_Her_. Because one is his wife in Lemnus and the other in Heaven. +Besides, Aphrodite cares most about Ares; he is her real love; so she +does not trouble her head about the blacksmith. + +_Ap_. Do you think Hephaestus sees? + +_Her_. Oh, he sees, yes; but what can he do? he knows what a martial +young fellow it is; so he holds his tongue. He talks of inventing a +net, though, to take them in the act with. + +_Ap_. Ah, all I know is, I would not mind being taken in that +act. + +H. + + + + +XVI + +_Hera. Leto_ + + +_Hera_. I must congratulate you, madam, on the children with whom you +have presented Zeus. + +_Leto_. Ah, madam; we cannot all be the proud mothers of Hephaestuses. + +_Hera_. My boy may be a cripple, but at least he is of some use. He is +a wonderful smith, and has made Heaven look another place; and +Aphrodite thought him worth marrying, and dotes on him still. But +those two of yours !--that girl is wild and mannish to a degree; and +now she has gone off to Scythia, and her doings _there_ are no secret; +she is as bad as any Scythian herself,--butchering strangers and +eating them! Apollo, too, who pretends to be so clever, with his bow +and his lyre and his medicine and his prophecies; those oracle-shops +that he has opened at Delphi, and Clarus, and Dindyma, are a cheat; he +takes good care to be on the safe side by giving ambiguous answers +that no one can understand, and makes money out of it, for there are +plenty of fools who like being imposed upon,--but sensible people know +well enough that most of it is clap-trap. The prophet did not know +that he was to kill his favourite with a quoit; he never foresaw that +Daphne would run away from him, so handsome as he is, too, such +beautiful hair! I am not sure, after all, that there is much to choose +between your children and Niobe's. + +_Leto_. Oh, of course; my children are butchers and impostors. I know +how you hate the sight of them. You cannot bear to hear my girl +complimented on her looks, or my boy's playing admired by the company. + +_Hera_. His playing, madam!--excuse a smile;--why, if the Muses had +not favoured him, his contest with Marsyas would have cost him his +skin; poor Marsyas was shamefully used on that occasion; 'twas a +judicial murder.--As for your charming daughter, when Actaeon once +caught sight of her charms, she had to set the dogs upon him, for fear +he should tell all he knew: I forbear to ask where the innocent child +picked up her knowledge of obstetrics. + +_Leto_. You set no small value on yourself, madam, because you are the +wife of Zeus, and share his throne; you may insult whom you please. +But there will be tears presently, when the next bull or swan sets out +on his travels, and you are left neglected. + +F. + + + + +XVIII + +_Hera. Zeus_ + + +_Hera_. Well, Zeus, I should be ashamed if _I_ had such a son; so +effeminate, and so given to drinking; tying up his hair in a ribbon, +indeed! and spending most of his time among mad women, himself as much +a woman as any of them; dancing to flute and drum and cymbal! He +resembles any one rather than his father. + +_Zeus_. Anyhow, my dear, this wearer of ribbons, this woman among +women, not content with conquering Lydia, subduing Thrace, and +enthralling the people of Tmolus, has been on an expedition all the +way to India with his womanish host, captured elephants, taken +possession of the country, and led their king captive after a brief +resistance. And he never stopped dancing all the time, never +relinquished the thyrsus and the ivy; always drunk (as you say) and +always inspired! If any scoffer presumes to make light of his +ceremonial, he does not go unpunished; he is bound with vine-twigs; or +his own mother mistakes him for a fawn, and tears him limb from limb. +Are not these manful doings, worthy of a son of Zeus? No doubt he is +fond of his comforts, too, and his amusements; we need not complain of +that: you may judge from his drunken achievements, what a handful the +fellow would be if he were sober. + +_Hera_. I suppose you will tell me next, that the invention of wine is +very much to his credit; though you see for yourself how drunken men +stagger about and misbehave themselves; one would think the liquor had +made them mad. Look at Icarius, the first to whom he gave the vine: +beaten to death with mattocks by his own boon companions! + +_Zeus_. Pooh, nonsense. That is not Dionysus's fault, nor the wine's +fault; it comes of the immoderate use of it. Men _will_ drink their +wine neat, and drink too much of it. Taken in moderation, it engenders +cheerfulness and benevolence. Dionysus is not likely to treat any of +his guests as Icarius was treated.--No; I see what it is:--you are +jealous, my love; you can't forget about Semele, and so you must +disparage the noble achievements of her son. + +F. + + + + +XIX + +_Aphrodite_. _Eros_ + + +_Aph_. Eros, dear, you have had your victories over most of the Gods-- +Zeus, Posidon, Rhea, Apollo, nay, your own mother; how is it you make +an exception for Athene? against her your torch has no fire, your +quiver no arrows, your right hand no cunning. + +_Eros_. I am afraid of her, mother; those awful flashing eyes! she is +like a man, only worse. When I go against her with my arrow on the +string, a toss of her plume frightens me; my hand shakes so that it +drops the bow. + +_Aph_. I should have thought Ares was more terrible still; but you +disarmed and conquered him. + +_Eros_. Ah, he is only too glad to have me; he calls me to him. Athene +always eyes me so! once when I flew close past her, quite by accident, +with my torch, 'If you come near me,' she called out, 'I swear by my +father, I will run you through with my spear, or take you by the foot +and drop you into Tartarus, or tear you in pieces with my own hands'-- +and more such dreadful things. And she has such a sour look; and then +on her breast she wears that horrid face with the snaky hair; that +frightens me worst of all; the nasty bogy--I run away directly I see +it. + +_Aph_. Well, well, you are afraid of Athene and the Gorgon; at least +so you say, though you do not mind Zeus's thunderbolt a bit. But why +do you let the Muses go scot free? do _they_ toss their plumes and +hold out Gorgons' heads? + +_Eros_. Ah, mother, they make me bashful; they are so grand, always +studying and composing; I love to stand there listening to their +music. + +_Aph_. Let them pass too, because they are grand. And why do you never +take a shot at Artemis? + +_Eros_. Why, the great thing is that I cannot catch her; she is always +over the hills and far away. But besides that, her heart is engaged +already. + +_Aph_. Where, child? + +_Eros_. In hunting stags and fawns; she is so fleet, she catches them +up, or else shoots them; she can think of nothing else. Her brother, +now, though he is an archer too, and draws a good arrow-- + +_Aph_. I know, child, you have hit _him_ often enough. + +H. + + + + +XX. + +THE JUDGEMENT OF PARIS + +_Zeus. Hermes. Hera. Athene. Aphrodite. Paris_ + + +_Zeus_. Hermes, take this apple, and go with it to Phrygia; on the +Gargaran peak of Ida you will find Priam's son, the herdsman. Give him +this message: 'Paris, because you are handsome, and wise in the things +of love, Zeus commands you to judge between the Goddesses, and say +which is the most beautiful. And the prize shall be this apple.'--Now, +you three, there is no time to be lost: away with you to your judge. I +will have nothing to do with the matter: I love you all exactly alike, +and I only wish you could all three win. If I were to give the prize +to one of you, the other two would hate me, of course. In these +circumstances, I am ill qualified to be your judge. But this young +Phrygian to whom you are going is of the royal blood--a relation of +Ganymede's,--and at the same time a simple countryman; so that we need +have no hesitation in trusting his eyes. + +_Aph_. As far as I am concerned, Zeus, Momus himself might be our +judge; _I_ should not be afraid to show myself. What fault could he +find with _me_? But the others must agree too. + +_Hera_. Oh, we are under no alarm, thank you,--though your admirer +Ares should be appointed. But Paris will do; whoever Paris is. + +_Zeus_. And my little Athene; have we her approval? Nay, never blush, +nor hide your face. Well, well, maidens will be coy; 'tis a delicate +subject. But there, she nods consent. Now, off with you; and mind, the +beaten ones must not be cross with the judge; I will not have the poor +lad harmed. The prize of beauty can be but one. + +_Herm_. Now for Phrygia. I will show the way; keep close behind me, +ladies, and don't be nervous. I know Paris well: he is a charming +young man; a great gallant, and an admirable judge of beauty. Depend +on it, he will make a good award. + +_Aph_. I am glad to hear that; I ask for nothing better than a just +judge.--Has he a wife, Hermes, or is he a bachelor? + +_Herm_. Not exactly a bachelor. + +_Aph_. What do you mean? + +_Herm_. I believe there is a wife, as it were; a good enough sort of +girl--a native of those parts--but sadly countrified! I fancy he does +not care very much about her.--Why do you ask? + +_Aph_. I just wanted to know. + +_Ath_. Now, Hermes, that is not fair. No whispering with Aphrodite. + +_Herm_. It was nothing, Athene; nothing about you. She only asked me +whether Paris was a bachelor. + +_Ath_. What business is that of hers? + +_Herm_. None that I know of. She meant nothing by the question; she +just wanted to know. + +_Ath_. Well, and is he? + +_Herm_. Why, no. + +_Ath_. And does he care for military glory? has he ambition? Or is he +a _mere_ neatherd? + +_Herm_. I couldn't say for certain. But he is a young man, so it is to +be presumed that distinction on the field of battle is among his +desires. + +_Aph_. There, you see; _I_ don't complain; I say nothing when you +whisper with _her_. Aphrodite is not so particular as some people. + +_Herm_. Athene asked me almost exactly the same as you did; so don't +be cross. It will do you no harm, my answering a plain question.-- +Meanwhile, we have left the stars far behind us, and are almost over +Phrygia. There is Ida: I can make out the peak of Gargarum quite +plainly; and if I am not mistaken, there is Paris himself. + +_Hera_. Where is he? I don't see him. + +_Herm_. Look over there to the left, Hera: not on the top, but down +the side, by that cave where you see the herd. + +_Hera_. But I _don't_ see the herd. + +_Herm_. What, don't you see them coming out from between the rocks,-- +where I am pointing, look--and the man running down from the crag, and +keeping them together with his staff? + +_Hera_. I see him now; if he it is. + +_Herm_. Oh, that is Paris. But we are getting near; it is time to +alight and walk. He might be frightened, if we were to descend upon +him so suddenly. + +_Hera_. Yes; very well. And now that we are on the earth, you might go +on ahead, Aphrodite, and show us the way. You know the country, of +course, having been here so often to see Anchises; or so I have heard. + +_Aph_. Your sneers are thrown away on me, Hera. + +_Herm_. Come; I'll lead the way myself. I spent some time on Ida, +while Zeus was courting Ganymede. Many is the time that I have been +sent here to keep watch over the boy; and when at last the eagle came, +I flew by his side, and helped him with his lovely burden. This is the +very rock, if I remember; yes, Ganymede was piping to his sheep, when +down swooped the eagle behind him, and tenderly, oh, so tenderly, +caught him up in those talons, and with the turban in his beak bore +him off, the frightened boy straining his neck the while to see his +captor. I picked up his pipes--he had dropped them in his fright and +--ah! here is our umpire, close at hand. Let us accost him.-- +Good-morrow, herdsman! + +_Par_. Good-morrow, youngster. And who may you be, who come thus far +afield? And these dames? They are over comely, to be wandering on the +mountain-side. + +_Herm_. 'These dames,' good Paris, are Hera, Athene, and Aphrodite; +and I am Hermes, with a message from Zeus. Why so pale and tremulous? +Compose yourself; there is nothing the matter. Zeus appoints you the +judge of their beauty. 'Because you are handsome, and wise in the +things of love' (so runs the message), 'I leave the decision to you; +and for the prize,--read the inscription on the apple.' + +_Par_. Let me see what it is about. FOR THE FAIR, it says. But, my +lord Hermes, how shall a mortal and a rustic like myself be judge of +such unparalleled beauty? This is no sight for a herdsman's eyes; let +the fine city folk decide on such matters. As for me, I can tell you +which of two goats is the fairer beast; or I can judge betwixt heifer +and heifer;--'tis my trade. But here, where all are beautiful alike, I +know not how a man may leave looking at one, to look upon another. +Where my eyes fall, there they fasten,--for there is beauty: I move +them, and what do I find? more loveliness! I am fixed again, yet +distracted by neighbouring charms. I bathe in beauty: I am enthralled: +ah, why am I not _all_ eyes like Argus? Methinks it were a fair award, +to give the apple to all three. Then again: one is the wife and sister +of Zeus; the others are his daughters. Take it where you will, 'tis a +hard matter to judge. + +_Herm_. So it is, Paris. At the same time--Zeus's orders! There is no +way out of it. + +_Par_. Well, please point out to them, Hermes, that the losers must +not be angry with me; the fault will be in my eyes only. + +_Herm_. That is quite understood. And now to work. + +_Par_. I must do what I can; there is no help for it. But first let me +ask,--am I just to look at them as they are, or must I go into the +matter thoroughly? + +_Herm_. That is for you to decide, in virtue of your office. You have +only to give your orders; it is as you think best. + +_Par_. As I think best? Then I will be thorough. + +_Herm_. Get ready, ladies. Now, Mr. Umpire.--I will look the other +way. + +_Hera_. I approve your decision, Paris. I will be the first to submit +myself to your inspection. You shall see that I have more to boast of +than white arms and large eyes: nought of me but is beautiful. + +_Par_. Aphrodite, will you also prepare? + +_Ath_. Oh, Paris,--make her take off that girdle, first; there is +magic in it; she will bewitch you. For that matter, she has no right +to come thus tricked out and painted,--just like a courtesan! She +ought to show herself unadorned. + +_Par_. They are right about the girdle, madam; it must go. + +_Aph_. Oh, very well, Athene: then take off that helmet, and show your +head bare, instead of trying to intimidate the judge with that waving +plume. I suppose you are afraid the colour of your eyes may be +noticed, without their formidable surroundings. + +_Ath_. Oh, here is my helmet. + +_Aph_. And here is my girdle. + +_Hera_. Now then. + +_Par_. God of wonders! What loveliness is here! Oh, rapture! How +exquisite these maiden charms! How dazzling the majesty of Heaven's +true queen! And oh, how sweet, how enthralling is Aphrodite's smile! +'Tis too much, too much of happiness.--But perhaps it would be well +for me to view each in detail; for as yet I doubt, and know not where +to look; my eyes are drawn all ways at once. + +_Aph_. Yes, that will be best. + +_Par_. Withdraw then, you and Athene; and let Hera remain. + +_Hera_. So be it; and when you have finished your scrutiny, you have +next to consider, how you would like the present which I offer you. +Paris, give me the prize of beauty, and you shall be lord of all Asia. + +_Par_. I will take no presents. Withdraw. I shall judge as I think +right. Approach, Athene. + +_Ath_. Behold. And, Paris, if you will say that I am the fairest, I +will make you a great warrior and conqueror, and you shall always win, +in every one of your battles. + +_Par_. But I have nothing to do with fighting, Athene. As you see, +there is peace throughout all Lydia and Phrygia, and my father's +dominion is uncontested. But never mind; I am not going to take your +present, but you shall have fair play. You can robe again and put on +your helmet; I have seen. And now for Aphrodite. + +_Aph_. Here I am; take your time, and examine carefully; let nothing +escape your vigilance. And I have something else to say to you, +handsome Paris. Yes, you handsome boy, I have long had an eye on you; +I think you must be the handsomest young fellow in all Phrygia. But it +is such a pity that you don't leave these rocks and crags, and live in +a town; you will lose all your beauty in this desert. What have you to +do with mountains? What satisfaction can your beauty give to a lot of +cows? You ought to have been married long ago; not to any of these +dowdy women hereabouts, but to some Greek girl; an Argive, perhaps, or +a Corinthian, or a Spartan; Helen, now, is a Spartan, and such a +pretty girl--quite as pretty as I am--and so susceptible! Why, if she +once caught sight of _you_, she would give up everything, I am sure, +to go with you, and a most devoted wife she would be. But you have +heard of Helen, of course? + +_Par_. No, ma'am; but I should like to hear all about her now. + +_Aph_. Well, she is the daughter of Leda, the beautiful woman, you +know, whom Zeus visited in the disguise of a swan. + +_Par_. And what is she like? + +_Aph_. She is fair, as might be expected from the swan, soft as down +(she was hatched from an egg, you know), and such a lithe, graceful +figure; and only think, she is so much admired, that there was a war +because Theseus ran away with her; and she was a mere child then. And +when she grew up, the very first men in Greece were suitors for her +hand, and she was given to Menelaus, who is descended from Pelops.-- +Now, if you like, she shall be your wife. + +_Par_. What, when she is married already? + +_Aph_. Tut, child, you are a simpleton: _I_ understand these things. + +_Par_. I should like to understand them too. + +_Aph_. You will set out for Greece on a tour of inspection: and when +you get to Sparta, Helen will see you; and for the rest--her falling +in love, and going back with you--that will be my affair. + +_Par_. But that is what I cannot believe,--that she will forsake her +husband to cross the seas with a stranger, a barbarian. + +_Aph_. Trust me for that. I have two beautiful children, Love and +Desire. They shall be your guides. Love will assail her in all his +might, and compel her to love you: Desire will encompass you about, +and make you desirable and lovely as himself; and I will be there to +help. I can get the Graces to come too, and between us we shall +prevail. + +_Par_. How this will end, I know not. All I do know is, that I am in +love with Helen already. I see her before me--I sail for Greece I am +in Sparta--I am on my homeward journey, with her at my side! Ah, why +is none of it true? + +_Aph_. Wait. Do not fall in love yet. You have first to secure my +interest with the bride, by your award. The union must be graced with +my victorious presence: your marriage-feast shall be my feast of +victory. Love, beauty, wedlock; all these you may purchase at the +price of yonder apple. + +_Par_. But perhaps after the award you will forget all about _me_? + +_Aph_. Shall I swear? + +_Par_. No; but promise once more. + +_Aph_. I promise that you shall have Helen to wife; that she shall +follow you, and make Troy her home; and I will be present with you, +and help you in all. + +_Par_. And bring Love, and Desire, and the Graces? + +_Aph Assuredly; and Passion and Hymen as well. + +_Par_. Take the apple: it is yours. + +F. + + + + +XXI + +_Ares. Hermes_ + + +_Ar_. Did you hear Zeus's threat, Hermes? most complimentary, wasn't +it, and most practicable? 'If I choose,' says he, 'I could let down a +cord from Heaven, and all of you might hang on to it and do your very +best to pull me down; it would be waste labour; you would never move +me. On the other hand, if I chose to haul up, I should have you all +dangling in mid air, with earth and sea into the bargain and so on; +you heard? Well, I dare say he _is_ too much for any of us +individually, but I will never believe he outweighs the whole of us in +a body, or that, even with the makeweight of earth and sea, we should +not get the better of him. + +_Her_. Mind what you say, Ares; it is not safe to talk like that; we +might get paid out for chattering. + +_Ar_. You don't suppose I should say this to every one; I am not +afraid of you; I know you can keep a quiet tongue. I _must_ tell you +what made me laugh most while he stormed: I remember not so long ago, +when Posidon and Hera and Athene rebelled and made a plot for his +capture and imprisonment, he was frightened out of his wits; well, +there were only three of them, and if Thetis had not taken pity on him +and called in the hundred-handed Briareus to the rescue, he would +actually have been put in chains, with his thunder and his bolt beside +him. When I worked out the sum, I could not help laughing. + +_Her_. Oh, do be quiet; such things are too risky for you to say or me +to listen to. + +H. + + + + +XXIV + +_Hermes_. _Maia_ + + +_Her_. Mother, I am the most miserable god in Heaven. + +_Ma_. Don't say such things, child. + +_Her_. Am I to do all the work of Heaven with my own hands, to be +hurried from one piece of drudgery to another, and never say a word? I +have to get up early, sweep the dining-room, lay the cushions and put +all to rights; then I have to wait on Zeus, and take his messages, up +and down, all day long; and I am no sooner back again (no time for a +wash) than I have to lay the table; and there was the nectar to pour +out, too, till this new cup-bearer was bought. And it really is too +bad, that when every one else is in bed, I should have to go off to +Pluto with the Shades, and play the usher in Rhadamanthus's court. It +is not enough that I must be busy all day in the wrestling-ground and +the Assembly and the schools of rhetoric, the dead must have their +share in me too. Leda's sons take turn and turn about betwixt Heaven +and Hades--_I_ have to be in both every day. And why should the sons +of Alemena and Semele, paltry women, why should they feast at their +ease, and I--the son of Maia, the grandson of Atlas--wait upon them? +And now here am I only just back from Sidon, where he sent me to see +after Europa, and before I am in breath again-off I must go to Argos, +in quest of Danae, 'and you can take Boeotia on your way,' says +father, 'and see Antiope.' I am half dead with it all. Mortal slaves +are better off than I am: they have the chance of being sold to a new +master; I wish I had the same! + +_Ma_. Come, come, child. You must do as your father bids you, like a +good boy. Run along now to Argos and Boeotia; don't loiter, or you +will get a whipping. Lovers are apt to be hasty. + +F. + + + + +XXV + +_Zeus. Helius_ + + +_Zeus_. What have you been about, you villainous Titan? You have +utterly done for the earth, trusting your car to a silly boy like +that; he has got too near and scorched it in one place, and in another +killed everything with frost by withdrawing the heat too far; there is +not a single thing he has not turned upside down; if I had not seen +what was happening and upset him with the thunderbolt, there would not +have been a remnant of mankind left. A pretty deputy driver! + +_Hel_. I was wrong, Zeus; but do not be angry with me; my boy pressed +me so; how could I tell it would turn out so badly? + +_Zeus_. Oh, of course you didn't know what a delicate business it is, +and how the slightest divergence ruins everything! it never occurred +to you that the horses are spirited, and want a tight hand! oh no! +why, give them their heads a moment, and they are out of control; just +what happened: they carried him now left, now right, now clean round +backwards, and up or down, just at their own sweet will; he was +utterly helpless. + +_Hel_. I knew it all; I held out for a long time and told him he +mustn't drive. But he wept and entreated, and his mother Clymene +joined in, and at last I put him up. I showed him how to stand, and +how far he was to mount upwards, and where to begin descending, and +how to hold the reins, and keep the spirited beasts under control; and +I told him how dangerous it was, if he did not keep the track. But, +poor boy, when he found himself in charge of all that fire, and +looking down into yawning space, he was frightened, and no wonder; and +the horses soon knew I was not behind them, took the child's measure, +left the track, and wrought all this havoc; he let go the reins--I +suppose he was afraid of being thrown out--and held on to the rail. +But he has suffered for it, and my grief is punishment enough for me, +Zeus. + +_Zeus_. Punishment enough, indeed! after daring to do such a thing as +that!--Well, I forgive you this time. But if ever you transgress +again, or send another substitute like him, I will show you how much +hotter the thunderbolt is than your fire. Let his sisters bury him by +the Eridanus, where he was upset. They shall weep amber tears and be +changed by their grief into poplars. As for you, repair the car--the +pole is broken, and one of the wheels crushed--, put the horses to and +drive yourself. And let this be a lesson to you. + +H. + + + + +XXVI + +_Apollo. Hermes_ + + +_Ap_. Hermes, have you any idea which of those two is Castor, and +which is Pollux? I never can make out. + +_Her_. It was Castor yesterday, and Pollux to-day. + +_Ap_. How do you tell? They are exactly alike. + +_Her_. Why, Pollux's face is scarred with the wounds he got in boxing; +those that Amycus, the Bebrycian, gave him, when he was on that +expedition with Jason, are particularly noticeable. Castor has no +marks; his face is all right. + +_Ap_. Good; I am glad I know that. Everything else is the same for +both. Each has his half egg-shell, with the star on top, each his +javelin and his white horse. I am always calling Pollux Castor, and +Castor Pollux. And, by the way, why are they never both here together? +Why should they be alternately gods and shades? + +_Her_. That is their brotherly way. You see, it was decreed that one +of the sons of Leda must die, and the other be immortal; and by this +arrangement they split the immortality between them. + +_Ap_. Rather a stupid way of doing it: if one of them is to be in +Heaven, whilst the other is underground, they will never see one +another at all; and I suppose that is just what they wanted to do. +Then again: all the other gods practise some useful profession, either +here or on earth; for instance, I am a prophet, Asclepius is a doctor, +you are a first-rate gymnast and trainer, Artemis ushers children into +the world; now what are these two going to do? surely two such great +fellows are not to have a lazy time of it? + +_Her_. Oh no. Their business is to wait upon Posidon, and ride the +waves; and if they see a ship in distress, they go aboard of her, and +save the crew. + +_Ap_. A most humane profession. + +F. + + + + +DIALOGUES OF THE SEA-GODS + +I + +_Doris. Galatea_. + + +_Dor_. A handsome lover, Galatea, this Sicilian shepherd who they say +is so mad for you! + +_Gal_. Don't be sarcastic, Doris; he is Posidon's son, after all. + +_Dor_. Well, and if he were Zeus's, and still such a wild shaggy +creature, with only one eye (there is nothing uglier than to have only +one eye), do you think his birth would improve his beauty? + +_Gal_. Shagginess and wildness, as you call them, are not ugly in a +man; and his eye looks very well in the middle of his forehead, and +sees just as well as if it were two. + +_Dor_. Why, my dear, from your raptures about him one would think it +was you that were in love, not he. + +_Gal_. Oh no, I am not in love; but it is too bad, your all running +him down as you do. It is my belief you are jealous, Do you remember? +we were playing on the shore at the foot of Etna, where the long strip +of beach comes between the mountain and the sea; he was feeding his +sheep, and spied us from above; yes, but he never so much as glanced +at the rest of you; I was the pretty one; he was all eyes--eye, I +mean--for me. That is what makes you spiteful, because it showed I was +better than you, good enough to be loved, while you were taken no +notice of. + +_Dor_. Hoity-toity! jealous indeed! because a one-eyed shepherd thinks +you pretty! Why, what could he see in you but your white skin? and he +only cared for that because it reminded him of cheese and milk; he +thinks everything pretty that is like them. If you want to know any +more than that about your looks, sit on a rock when it is calm, and +lean over the water; just a bit of white skin, that is all; and who +cares for that, if it is not picked out with some red? + +_Gal_. Well, if I _am_ all white, I have got a lover of some sort; +there is not a shepherd or a sailor or a boatman to care for any of +you. Besides, Polyphemus is very musical. + +_Dor_. Take care, dear; we heard him singing the other day when he +serenaded you. Heavens! one would have taken him for an ass braying. +And his lyre! what a thing! A stag's skull, with its horns for the +uprights; he put a bar across, and fastened on the strings without any +tuning-pegs! then came the performance, all harsh and out of tune; he +shouted something himself, and the lyre played something else, and the +love ditty sent us into fits of laughter. Why, Echo, chatterbox that +she is, would not answer him; she was ashamed to be caught mimicking +such a rough ridiculous song. Oh, and the pet that your beau brought +you in his arms!--a bear cub nearly as shaggy as himself. Now then, +Galatea, do you still think we envy you your lover? + +_Gal_. Well, Doris, only show us your own; no doubt he is much +handsomer, and sings and plays far better. + +_Dor_. Oh, I have not got one; _I_ do not set up to be lovely. But one +like the Cyclops--faugh, he might be one of his own goats!--he eats +raw meat, they say, and feeds on travellers--one like him, dear, you +may keep; I wish you nothing worse than to return his love. + +H. + + + + +II + +_Cyclops. Posidon_ + + +_Cy_. Only look, father, what that cursed stranger has been doing to +me! He made me drunk, and set upon me whilst I was asleep, and blinded +me. + +_Po_. Who has dared to do this? + +_Cy_. He called himself 'Noman' at first: but when he had got safely +out of range, he said his name was Odysseus. + +_Po_. I know--the Ithacan; on his way back from Troy. But how did he +come to do such a thing? He is not distinguished for courage. + +_Cy_. When I got back from the pasture, I caught a lot of the fellows +in my cave. Evidently they had designs upon the sheep: because when I +had blocked up my doorway (I have a great big stone for that), and +kindled a fire, with a tree that I had brought home from the +mountain,--there they were trying to hide themselves. I saw they were +robbers, so I caught a few of them, and ate them of course, and then +that scoundrel of a Noman, or Odysseus, whichever it is, gave me +something to drink, with a drug in it; it tasted and smelt very good, +but it was villanously heady stuff; it made everything spin round; +even the cave seemed to be turning upside down, and I simply didn't +know where I was; and finally I fell off to sleep. And then he +sharpened that stake, and made it hot in the fire, and blinded me in +my sleep; and blind I have been ever since, father. + +_Po_. You must have slept pretty soundly, my boy, or you would have +jumped up in the middle of it. Well, and how did Odysseus get off? He +couldn't move that stone away, _I_ know. + +_Cy_. I took that away myself, so as to catch him as he went out. I +sat down in the doorway, and felt about for him with my hands. I just +let the sheep go out to pasture, and told the ram everything I wanted +done. + +_Po_. Ah! and they slipped out under the sheep? But you should have +set the other Cyclopes on to him. + +_Cy_. I did call them, and they came: but when they asked me who it +was that was playing tricks with me, I said 'Noman'; and then they +thought I was mad, and went off home again. The villain! that name of +his was just a trick! And what I minded most was the way in which he +made game of my misfortune: 'Not even Papa can put this right,' he +said. + +_Po_. Never mind, my boy; I will be even with him. I may not be able +to cure blindness, but he shall know that I have something to say to +mariners. He is not home yet. + +F. + + + + +III + +_Posidon. Alpheus_ + + +_Pos_. What is the meaning of this, Alpheus? unlike others, when you +take your plunge you do not mingle with the brine as a river should; +you do not put an end to your labours by dispersing; you hold together +through the sea, keep your current fresh, and hurry along in all your +original purity; you dive down to strange depths like a gull or a +heron; I suppose you will come to the top again and show yourself +somewhere or other. + +_Al_. Do not press me, Posidon; a love affair; and many is the time +you have been in love yourself. + +_Pos_. Woman, nymph, or Nereid? + +_Al_. All wrong; she is a fountain. + +_Pos_. A fountain? and where does she flow? + +_Al_. She is an islander--in Sicily. Her name is Arethusa. + +_Pos_. Ah, I commend your taste. She is pellucid, and bubbles up in +perfect purity; the water as bright over her pebbles as if it were a +mass of silver. + +_Al_. You know my fountain, Posidon, and no mistake. It is to her that +I go. + +_Pos_. Go, then; and may the course of love run smooth! But pray where +did you meet her? Arcadia and Syracuse, you know! + +_Al_. I am in a hurry; you are detaining me, with these superfluous +questions. + +_Pos_. Ah, so I am. Be off to your beloved, rise from the sea, mingle +your channels and be one water. + +H. + + + + +IV + +_Menelaus. Proteus_ + + +_Me_. I can understand your turning into _water_, you know, Proteus, +because you _are_ a sea-god. I can even pass the tree; and the lion is +not wholly beyond the bounds of belief. But the idea of your being +able to turn into _fire_, living under water as you do,--this excites +my surprise, not to say my incredulity. + +_Pro_. Don't let it; because I can. + +_Me_. I have seen you do it. But (to be frank with you) I think there +must be some deception; you play tricks with one's eyes; you don't +really turn into anything of the kind? + +_Pro_. Deception? What deception can there possibly be? Everything is +above-board. Your eyes were open, I suppose, and you saw me change +into all these things? If that is not enough for you, if you think it +is a fraud, an optical illusion, I will turn into fire again, and you +can touch me with your hand, my sagacious friend. You will then be +able to conclude whether I am only visible fire, or have the +additional property of burning. + +_Me_. That would be rash. + +_Pro_. I suppose you have never seen such a thing as a polypus, nor +observed the proceedings of that fish? + +_Me_. I have seen them; as to their proceedings, I shall be glad of +your information. + +_Pro_. The polypus, having selected his rock, and attached himself by +means of his suckers, assimilates himself to it, changing his colour +to match that of the rock. By this means he hopes to escape the +observation of fishermen: there is no contrast of colour to betray his +presence; he looks just like stone. + +_Me_. So I have heard. But yours is quite another matter, Proteus. + +_Pro_. I don't know what evidence would satisfy you, if you reject +that of your own eyes. + +_Me_. I have seen it done, but it is an extraordinary business; fire +and water, one and the same person! + +F. + + + + +V + +_Panope. Galene_ + + +_Pa_. Galene, did you see what Eris did yesterday at the Thessalian +banquet, because she had not had an invitation? + +_Ga_, No, I was not with you; Posidon had told me to keep the sea +quiet for the occasion. What did Eris do, then, if she was not there? + +_Pa_. Thetis and Peleus had just gone off to the bridal chamber, +conducted by Amphitrite and Posidon, when Eris came in unnoticed-- +which was easy enough; some were drinking, some dancing, or attending +to Apollo's lyre or the Muses' songs--Well, she threw down a lovely +apple, solid gold, my dear; and there was written on it, FOR THE FAIR. +It rolled along as if it knew what it was about, till it came in front +of Hera, Aphrodite, and Athene. Hermes picked it up and read out the +inscription; of course we Nereids kept quiet; what should _we_ do in +such company? But they all made for it, each insisting that it was +hers; and if Zeus had not parted them, there would have been a battle. +He would not decide the matter himself, though they asked him to. 'Go, +all of you, to Ida,' he said, 'to the son of Priam; he is a man of +taste, quite capable of picking out the beauty; he will be no bad +judge.' + +_Ga_. Yes. and the Goddesses, Panope? + +_Pa_. They are going to Ida to-day, I believe; we shall soon have news +of the result. + +_Ga_. Oh, I can tell you that now; if the umpire is not a blind man, +no one else can win, with Aphrodite in for it. + +_Triton. Posidon. Amymone_ + +_Tri_. Posidon, there is such a pretty girl coming to Lerna for water +every day; I don't know that I ever saw a prettier. + +_Pos_. What is she, a lady? or a mere water-carrier? + +_Tri_. Oh no; she is one of the fifty daughters of that Egyptian king. +Her name is Amymone; I asked about that and her family. Danaus +understands discipline; he is bringing them up to do everything for +themselves; they have to fetch water, and make themselves generally +useful. + +_Pos_. And does she come all that way by herself, from Argos to Lerna? + +_Tri_. Yes; and Argos, you know, is a thirsty place; she is always +having to get water. + +_Pos_. Triton, this is most exciting. We must go and see her. + +_Tri_. Very well. It is just her time now; I reckon she will be about +half-way to Lerna. + +_Pos_. Bring out the chariot, then. Or no; it takes such a time +getting it ready, and putting the horses to. Just fetch me out a good +fast dolphin; that will be quickest. + +_Tri_. Here is a racer for you. + +_Pos_. Good; now let us be off. You swim alongside.--Here we are at +Lerna. I'll lie in ambush hereabouts; and you keep a look-out. When +you see her coming-- + +_Tri_. Here she comes. + +_Pos_. A charming child; the dawn of loveliness. We must carry her +off. + +_Am_. Villain! where are you taking me to? You are a kidnapper. I know +who sent you--my uncle Aegyptus. I shall call my father. + +_Tri_. Hush, Amymone; it is Posidon. + +_Am_. Posidon? What do you mean? Unhand me, villain! would you drag me +into the sea? Help, help, I shall sink and be drowned. + +_Pos_. Don't be frightened; no harm shall be done to you. Come, you +shall have a fountain called after you; it shall spring up in this +very place, near the waves; I will strike the rock with my trident.-- +Think how nice it will be being dead, and not having to carry water +any more, like all your sisters. + +F. + + + + +VII + +_South Wind. West Wind_ + + +_S_. Zephyr, is it true about Zeus and the heifer that Hermes is +convoying across the sea to Egypt?--that he fell in love with it? + +_W_. Certainly. She was not a heifer then, though, but a daughter of +the river Inachus. Hera made her what she is now; Zeus was so deep in +love that Hera was jealous. + +_S_. And is he still in love, now that she is a cow? + +_W_. Oh, yes; that is why he has sent her to Egypt, and told us not to +stir up the sea till she has swum across; she is to be delivered there +of her child, and both of them are to be Gods. + +_S_. The heifer a God? + +_W_. Yes, I tell you. And Hermes said she was to be the patroness of +sailors and our mistress, and send out or confine any of us that she +chooses. + +_S_. So we must regard ourselves as her servants at once? + +_W_. Why, yes; she will be the kinder if we do. Ah, she has got across +and landed. Do you see? she does not go on four legs now; Hermes has +made her stand erect, and turned her back into a beautiful woman. + +_S_. This is most remarkable, Zephyr; no horns, no tail, no cloven +hoofs; instead, a lovely maid. But what is the matter with Hermes? he +has changed his handsome face into a dog's. + +_W_. We had better not meddle; he knows his own business best. + +H. + + + + +VIII + +_Posidon. Dolphins_ + + +_Pos_. Well done, Dolphins!--humane as ever. Not content with your +former exploit, when Ino leapt with Melicertes from the Scironian +cliff, and you picked the boy up and conveyed him to the Isthmus, one +of you swims from Methymna to Taenarum with this musician on his back, +mantle and lyre and all. Those sailors had almost had their wicked +will of him; but you were not going to stand that. + +_Dol_. You need not be surprised to find us doing a good turn to a +man, Posidon; we were men before we were fishes. + +_Pos_. Yes; I think it was too bad of Dionysus to celebrate his +victory by such a transformation scene; he might have been content +with adding you to the roll of his subjects.--Well, Dolphin, tell me +all about Arion. + +_Dol_. From what I can gather, Periander was very fond of him, and was +always sending for him to perform; till Arion grew quite rich at his +expense, and thought he would take a trip to Methymna, and show off +his wealth at home. He took ship accordingly; but it was with a crew +of rogues. He had made no secret of the gold and silver he had with +him; and when they were in mid Aegean, the sailors rose against him. +As I was swimming alongside, I heard all that went on. 'Since your +minds are made up,' says Arion, 'at least let me get my mantle on, and +sing my own dirge; and then I will throw myself into the sea of my own +accord.'--The sailors agreed. He threw his minstrel's cloak about him, +and sang a most sweet melody; and then he let himself drop into the +water, never doubting but that his last moment had come. But I caught +him up on my back, and swam to shore with him at Taenarum. + +_Pos_. I am glad to find you a patron of the arts. This was handsome +pay for a song. + +F. + + + + +IX + +_Posidon. Amphitrite and other Nereids_ + + +_Pos_. The strait where the child fell shall be called Hellespont +after her. And as for her body, you Nereids shall take it to the Troad +to be buried by the inhabitants. + +_Amph_. Oh no, Posidon. Let her grave be the sea which bears her name. +We are so sorry for her; that step-mother's treatment of her was +shocking. + +_Pos_. No, my dear, that may not be. And indeed it is not desirable +that she should lie here under the sand; her grave shall be in the +Troad, as I said, or in the Chersonese. It will be no small +consolation to her that Ino will have the same fate before long. She +will be chased by Athamas from the top of Cithaeron down the ridge +which runs into the sea, and there plunge in with her son in her arms. +But her we must rescue, to please Dionysus; Ino was his nurse and +suckled him, you know. + +_Amph_. Rescue a wicked creature like her? + +_Pos_. Well, we do not want to disoblige Dionysus. + +_Nereid_. I wonder what made the poor child fall off the ram; her +brother Phrixus held on all right. + +_Pos_. Of course he did; a lusty youth equal to the flight; but it was +all too strange for her; sitting on that queer mount, looking down on +yawning space, terrified, overpowered by the heat, giddy with the +speed, she lost her hold on the ram's horns, and down she came into +the sea. + +_Nereid_. Surely her mother Nephele should have broken her fall. + +_Pos_. I dare say; but Fate is a great deal too strong for Nephele. + +H. + + + + +X + +_Iris. Posidon_ + + +_Ir_. Posidon: you know that floating island, that was torn away from +Sicily, and is still drifting about under water; you are to bring it +to the surface, Zeus says, and fix it well in view in the middle of +the Aegean; and mind it is properly secured; he has a use for it. + +_Pos_. Very good. And when I have got it up, and anchored it, what is +he going to do with it? + +_Ir_. Leto is to lie in there; her time is near. + +_Pos_. And is there no room in Heaven? Or is Earth too small to hold +her children? + +_Ir_. Ah, you see, Hera has bound the Earth by a great oath not to +give shelter to Leto in her travail. This island, however, being out +of sight, has not committed itself. + +_Pos_. I see.--Island, be still! Rise once more from the depths; and +this time there must be no sinking. Henceforth you are _terra firma_; +it will be your happiness to receive my brother's twin children, +fairest of the Gods.--Tritons, you will have to convey Leto across. +Let all be calm.--As to that serpent who is frightening her out of her +senses, wait till these children are born; they will soon avenge their +mother.--You can tell Zeus that all is ready. Delos stands firm: Leto +has only to come. + +F. + + + + +XI + +_The Xanthus. The Sea_ + + +_Xan_. O Sea, take me to you; see how horribly I have been treated; +cool my wounds for me. + +_Sea_. What is this, Xanthus? who has burned you? + +_Xan_. Hephaestus. Oh, I am burned to cinders! oh, oh, oh, I boil! + +_Sea_. What made him use his fire upon you? + +_Xan_. Why, it was all that son of your Thetis. He was slaughtering +the Phrygians; I tried entreaties, but he went raging on, damming my +stream with their bodies; I was so sorry for the poor wretches, I +poured down to see if I could make a flood and frighten him off them. +But Hephaestus happened to be about, and he must have collected every +particle of fire he had in Etna or anywhere else; on he came at me, +scorched my elms and tamarisks, baked the poor fishes and eels, made +me boil over, and very nearly dried me up altogether. You see what a +state I am in with the burns. + +_Sea_. Indeed you are thick and hot, Xanthus, and no wonder; the dead +men's blood accounts for one, and the fire for the other, according to +your story. Well, and serve you right; assaulting my grandson, indeed! +paying no more respect to the son of a Nereid than that! + +_Xan_. Was I not to take compassion on the Phrygians? they are my +neighbours. + +_Sea_. And was Hephaestus not to take compassion on Achilles? He is +the son of Thetis. + +H. + + + + +XII + +_Doris. Thetis_ + + +_Dor_. Crying, dear? + +_The_. Oh, Doris, I have just seen a lovely girl thrown into a chest +by her father, and her little baby with her; and he gave the chest to +some sailors, and told them, as soon as they were far enough from the +shore, to drop it into the water; he meant them to be drowned, poor +things. + +_Dor_. Oh, sister, but why? What was it all about? Did you hear? + +_The_. Her father, Acrisius, wanted to keep her from marrying. And, as +she was so pretty, he shut her up in an iron room. And--I don't know +whether it's true--but they say that Zeus turned himself into gold, +and came showering down through the roof, and she caught the gold in +her lap,--and it was Zeus all the time. And then her father found out +about it--he is a horrid, jealous old man--and he was furious, and +thought she had been receiving a lover; and he put her into the chest, +the moment the child was born. + +_Dor_. And what did she do then? + +_The_. She never said a word against her own sentence; _she_ was ready +to submit: but she pleaded hard for the child's life, and cried, and +held him up for his grandfather to see; and there was the sweet babe, +that thought no harm, smiling at the waves. I am beginning again, at +the mere remembrance of it. + +_Dor_. You make me cry, too. And is it all over? + +_The_. No; the chest has carried them safely so far; it is by +Seriphus. + +_Dor_. Then why should we not save them? We can put the chest into +those fishermen's nets, look; and then of course they will be hauled +in, and come safe to shore. + +_The_. The very thing. She shall not die; nor the child, sweet +treasure! + +F. + + + + +XIV + +_Triton. Iphianassa. Doris. Nereids_ + + +_Tri_. Well, ladies: so the monster you sent against the daughter of +Cepheus has got killed himself, and never done Andromeda any harm at +all! + +_Nereid_. Who did it? I suppose Cepheus was just using his daughter as +a bait, and had a whole army waiting in ambush to kill him? + +_Tri_. No, no.--Iphianassa, you remember Perseus, Danae's boy?--they +were both thrown into the sea by the boy's grandfather, in that chest, +you know, and you took pity on them. + +_Iph_. I know; why, I suppose he is a fine handsome young fellow by +now? + +_Tri_. It was he who killed your monster. + +_Iph_. But why? This was not the way to show his gratitude. + +_Tri_. I'll tell you all about it. The king had sent him on this +expedition against the Gorgons, and when he got to Libya-- + +_Iph_. How did he get there? all by himself? he must have had some one +to help him?--it is a dangerous journey otherwise. + +_Tri_. He flew,--Athene gave him wings.--Well, so when he got to where +the Gorgons were living, he caught them napping, I suppose, cut off +Medusa's head, and flew away. + +_Iph_. How could he see them? The Gorgons are a forbidden sight. +Whoever looks at them will never look at any one else again. + +_Tri_. Athene held up her shield--I heard him telling Andromeda and +Cepheus about it afterwards--Athene showed him the reflection of the +Gorgon in her shield, which is as bright as any mirror; so he took +hold of her hair in his left hand, grasped his scimetar with the +right, still looking at the reflection, cut off her head, and was off +before her sisters woke up. Lowering his flight as he reached the +Ethiopian coast yonder, he caught sight of Andromeda, fettered to a +jutting rock, her hair hanging loose about her shoulders; ye Gods, +what loveliness was there exposed to view! And first pity of her hard +fate prompted him to ask the cause of her doom: but Fate had decreed +the maiden's deliverance, and presently Love stole upon him, and he +resolved to save her. The hideous monster now drew near, and would +have swallowed her: but the youth, hovering above, smote him with the +drawn scimetar in his right hand, and with his left uncovered the +petrifying Gorgon's head: in one moment the monster was lifeless; all +of him that had met that gaze was turned to stone. Then Perseus +released the maiden from her fetters, and supported her, as with timid +steps she descended from the slippery rock.--And now he is to marry +her in Cepheus's palace, and take her home to Argos; so that where she +looked for death, she has found an uncommonly good match. + +_Iph_. I am not sorry to hear it. It is no fault of hers, if her +mother has the vanity to set up for our rival. + +_Dor_. Still, she _is_ Andromeda's mother; and we should have had our +revenge on her through the daughter. + +_Iph_. My dear, let bygones be bygones. What matter if a barbarian +queen's tongue runs away with her? She is sufficiently punished by the +fright. So let us take this marriage in good part. + +F. + + + + +XV + +_West Wind. South Wind_ + + +_W_. Such a splendid pageant I never saw on the waves, since the day I +first blew. You were not there, Notus? _S_. Pageant, Zephyr? what +pageant? and whose? + +_W_. You missed a most ravishing spectacle; such another chance you +are not likely to have. + +_S_. I was busy with the Red Sea; and I gave the Indian coasts a +little airing too. So I don't know what you are talking about. + +_W_. Well, you know Agenor the Sidonian? + +_S_. Europa's father? what of him? + +_W_. Europa it is that I am going to tell you about. + +_S_. You need not tell me that Zeus has been in love with her this +long while; that is stale news. + +_W_. We can pass the love, then, and get on to the sequel. + +Europa had come down for a frolic on the beach with her playfellows. +Zeus transformed himself into a bull, and joined the game. A fine +sight he was--spotless white skin, crumpled horns, and gentle eyes. He +gambolled on the shore with them, bellowing most musically, till +Europa took heart of grace and mounted him. No sooner had she done it +than, with her on his back, Zeus made off at a run for the sea, +plunged in, and began swimming; she was dreadfully frightened, but +kept her seat by clinging to one of his horns with her left hand, +while the right held her skirt down against the puffs of wind. + +_S_. A lovely sight indeed, Zephyr, in every sense--Zeus swimming with +his darling on his back. + +_W_. Ay, but what followed was lovelier far. + +Every wave fell; the sea donned her robe of peace to speed them on +their way; we winds made holiday and joined the train, all eyes; +fluttering Loves skimmed the waves, just dipping now and again a +heedless toe--in their hands lighted torches, on their lips the +nuptial song; up floated Nereids--few but were prodigal of naked +charms--and clapped their hands, and kept pace on dolphin steeds; the +Triton company, with every sea-creature that frights not the eye, +tripped it around the maid; for Posidon on his car, with Amphitrite by +him, led them in festal mood, ushering his brother through the waves. +But, crowning all, a Triton pair bore Aphrodite, reclined on a shell, +heaping the bride with all flowers that blow. + +So went it from Phoenice even to Crete. But, when he set foot on the +isle, behold, the bull was no more; 'twas Zeus that took Europa's hand +and led her to the Dictaean Cave--blushing and downward-eyed; for she +knew now the end of her bringing. + +But we plunged this way and that, and roused the still seas anew. + +_S_. Ah me, what sights of bliss! and I was looking at griffins, and +elephants, and blackamoors! + +H. + + + + +DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD + +I + +_Diogenes. Pollux_ + + +_Diog_. Pollux, I have a commission for you; next time you go up--and +I think it is your turn for earth to-morrow--if you come across +Menippus the Cynic--you will find him about the Craneum at Corinth, or +in the Lyceum, laughing at the philosophers' disputes--well, give him +this message:--Menippus, Diogenes advises you, if mortal subjects for +laughter begin to pall, to come down below, and find much richer +material; where you are now, there is always a dash of uncertainty in +it; the question will always intrude--who can be quite sure about the +hereafter? Here, you can have your laugh out in security, like me; it +is the best of sport to see millionaires, governors, despots, now mean +and insignificant; you can only tell them by their lamentations, and +the spiritless despondency which is the legacy of better days. Tell +him this, and mention that he had better stuff his wallet with plenty +of lupines, and any un-considered trifles he can snap up in the way of +pauper doles [Footnote: In the Greek, 'a Hecate's repast lying at a +street corner.' 'Rich men used to make offerings to Hecate on the 30th +of every month as Goddess of roads at street corners; and these +offerings were at once pounced upon by the poor, or, as here, the +Cynics.' _Jacobitz_.] or lustral eggs. [Footnote: 'Eggs were often +used as purificatory offerings and set out in front of the house +purified.' _Id_.] + +_Pol_. I will tell him, Diogenes. But give me some idea of his +appearance. + +_Diog_. Old, bald, with a cloak that allows him plenty of light and +ventilation, and is patched all colours of the rainbow; always +laughing, and usually gibing at pretentious philosophers. + +_Pol_. Ah, I cannot mistake him now. + +_Diog_. May I give you another message to those same philosophers? + +_Pol_. Oh, I don't mind; go on. + +_Diog_. Charge them generally to give up playing the fool, quarrelling +over metaphysics, tricking each other with horn and crocodile puzzles +[Footnote: See _Puzzles_ in Notes.] and teaching people to waste wit +on such absurdities. + +_Pol_. Oh, but if I say anything against their wisdom, they will call +me an ignorant blockhead. + +_Diog_. Then tell them from me to go to the devil. + +_Pol_. Very well; rely upon me. + +_Diog_. And then, my most obliging of Polluxes, there is this for the +rich:--O vain fools, why hoard gold? why all these pains over interest +sums and the adding of hundred to hundred, when you must shortly come +to us with nothing beyond the dead-penny? + +_Pol_. They shall have their message too. + +_Diog_. Ah, and a word to the handsome and strong; Megillus of +Corinth, and Damoxenus the wrestler will do. Inform them that auburn +locks, eyes bright or black, rosy cheeks, are as little in fashion +here as tense muscles or mighty shoulders; man and man are as like as +two peas, tell them, when it comes to bare skull and no beauty. + +_Pol_. That is to the handsome and strong; yes, I can manage that. + +_Diog_. Yes, my Spartan, and here is for the poor. There are a great +many of them, very sorry for themselves and resentful of their +helplessness. Tell them to dry their tears and cease their cries; +explain to them that here one man is as good as another, and they will +find those who were rich on earth no better than themselves. As for +your Spartans, you will not mind scolding them, from me, upon their +present degeneracy? + +_Pol_. No, no, Diogenes; leave Sparta alone; that is going too far; +your other commissions I will execute. + +_Diog_. Oh, well, let them off, if you care about it; but tell all the +others what I said. + +H. + + + + +II + +_Before Pluto: Croesus, Midas, and Sardanapalus v. Menippus_ + + +_Cr_. Pluto, we can stand this snarling Cynic no longer in our +neighbourhood; either you must transfer him to other quarters, or we +are going to migrate. + +_Pl_. Why, what harm does he do to your ghostly community? + +_Cr_. Midas here, and Sardanapalus and I, can never get in a good cry +over the old days of gold and luxury and treasure, but he must be +laughing at us, and calling us rude names; 'slaves' and 'garbage,' he +says we are. And then he sings; and that throws us out.--In short, he +is a nuisance. + +_Pl_. Menippus, what's this I hear? + +_Me_. All perfectly true, Pluto. I detest these abject rascals! Not +content with having lived the abominable lives they did, they keep on +talking about it now they are dead, and harping on the good old days. +I take a positive pleasure in annoying them. + +_Pl_. Yes, but you mustn't. They have had terrible losses; they feel +it deeply. + +_Me_. Pluto! you are not going to lend _your_ countenance to these +whimpering fools? + +_Pl_. It isn't that: but I won't have you quarrelling. + +_Me_. Well, you scum of your respective nations, let there be no +misunderstanding; I am going on just the same. Wherever you are, there +shall I be also; worrying, jeering, singing you down. + +_Cr_. Presumption! + +_Me_. Not a bit of it. Yours was the presumption, when you expected +men to fall down before you, when you trampled on men's liberty, and +forgot there was such a thing as death. Now comes the weeping and +gnashing of teeth: for all is lost! + +_Cr_. Lost! Ah God! My treasure-heaps-- + +_Mid_. My gold-- + +_Sar_. My little comforts-- + +_Me_. That's right: stick to it! You do the whining, and I'll chime in +with a string of GNOTHI-SAUTONS, best of accompaniments. + +F. + + + + +III + +_Menippus. Amphilochus. Trophonius_ + + +_Me_. Now I wonder how it is that you two dead men have been honoured +with temples and taken for prophets; those silly mortals imagine you +are Gods. + +_Amp_. How can we help it, if they are fools enough to have such +fancies about the dead? + +_Me_. Ah, they would never have had them, though, if you had not been +charlatans in your lifetime, and pretended to know the future and be +able to foretell it to your clients. + +_Tro_. Well, Menippus, Amphilochus can take his own line, if he likes; +as for me, I _am_ a Hero, and _do_ give oracles to any one who comes +down to me. It is pretty clear you were never at Lebadea, or you would +not be so incredulous. + +_Me_. What do you mean? I must go to Lebadea, swaddle myself up in +absurd linen, take a cake in my hand, and crawl through a narrow +passage into a cave, before I could tell that you are a dead man, with +nothing but knavery to differentiate you from the rest of us? Now, on +your seer-ship, what _is_ a Hero? I am sure _I_ don't know. + +_Tro_. He is half God, and half man. + +_Me_. So what is neither man (as you imply) nor God, is both at once? +Well, at present what has become of your diviner half? + +_Tro_. He gives oracles in Boeotia. + +_Me_. What you may mean is quite beyond me; the one thing I know for +certain is that you are dead--the whole of you. + +H. + + + + +IV + +_Hermes. Charon_ + + +_Her_. Ferryman, what do you say to settling up accounts? It will +prevent any unpleasantness later on. + +_Ch_. Very good. It does save trouble to get these things +straight. + +_Her_. One anchor, to your order, five shillings. + +_Ch_. That is a lot of money. + +_Her_. So help me Pluto, it is what I had to pay. One rowlock-strap, +fourpence. + +_Ch_. Five and four; put that down. + +_Her_. Then there was a needle, for mending the sail; ten-pence. + +_Ch_. Down with it. + +_Her_. Caulking-wax; nails; and cord for the brace. Two shillings the +lot. + +_Ch_. They were worth the money. + +_Her_. That's all; unless I have forgotten anything. When will you pay +it? + +_Ch_. I can't just now, Hermes; we shall have a war or a plague +presently, and then the passengers will come shoaling in, and I shall +be able to make a little by jobbing the fares. + +_Her_. So for the present I have nothing to do but sit down, and pray +for the worst, as my only chance of getting paid? + +_Ch_. There is nothing else for it;--very little business doing just +now, as you see, owing to the peace. + +_Her_. That is just as well, though it does keep me waiting for my +money. After all, though, Charon, in old days men were men; you +remember the state they used to come down in,--all blood and wounds +generally. Nowadays, a man is poisoned by his slave or his wife; or +gets dropsy from overfeeding; a pale, spiritless lot, nothing like the +men of old. Most of them seem to meet their end in some plot that has +money for its object. + +_Ch_. Ah; money is in great request. + +_Her_. Yes; you can't blame me if I am somewhat urgent for payment. + +F. + + + + +V + +_Pluto. Hermes_ + + +_Pl_. You know that old, old fellow, Eucrates the millionaire--no +children, but a few thousand would-be heirs? + +_Her_. Yes--lives at Sicyon. Well? + +_Pl_. Well, Hermes, he is ninety now; let him live as much longer, +please; I should like it to be more still, if possible; and bring me +down his toadies one by one, that young Charinus, Damon, and the rest +of them. + +_Her_. It would seem so strange, wouldn't it? + +_Pl_. On the contrary, it would be ideal justice. What business have +they to pray for his death, or pretend to his money? they are no +relations. The most abominable thing about it is that they vary these +prayers with every public attention; when he is ill, every one knows +what they are after, and yet they vow offerings if he recovers; talk +of versatility! So let him be immortal, and bring them away before him +with their mouths still open for the fruit that never drops. + +_Her_. Well, they _are_ rascals, and it would be a comic ending. He +leads them a pretty life too, on hope gruel; he always looks more dead +than alive, but he is tougher than a young man. They have divided up +the inheritance among them, and feed on imaginary bliss. + +_Pl_. Just so; now he is to throw off his years like Iolaus, and +rejuvenate, while they in the middle of their hopes find themselves +here with their dream-wealth left behind them. Nothing like making the +punishment fit the crime. + +_Her_. Say no more, Pluto; I will fetch you them one after another; +seven of them, is it? + +_Pl_. Down with them; and he shall change from an old man to a +blooming youth, and attend their funerals. + +H. + + + + +VI + +_Terpsion. Pluto_ + + +_Ter_. Now is this fair, Pluto,--that I should die at the age of +thirty, and that old Thucritus go on living past ninety? + +_Pl_. Nothing could be fairer. Thucritus lives and is in no hurry for +his neighbours to die; whereas you always had some design against him; +you were waiting to step into his shoes. + +_Ter_. Well, an old man like that is past getting any enjoyment out of +his money; he ought to die, and make room for younger men. + +_Pl_. This is a novel principle: the man who can no longer derive +pleasure from his money is to die!--Fate and Nature have ordered it +otherwise. + +_Ter_. Then they have ordered it wrongly. There ought to be a proper +sequence according to seniority. Things are turned upside down, if an +old man is to go on living with only three teeth in his head, half +blind, tottering about with a pair of slaves on each side to hold him +up, drivelling and rheumy-eyed, having no joy of life, a living tomb, +the derision of his juniors,--and young men are to die in the prime of +their strength and beauty. 'Tis contrary to nature. At any rate the +young men have a right to know when the old are going to die, so that +they may not throw away their attentions on them for nothing, as is +sometimes the case. The present arrangement is a putting of the cart +before the horse. + +_Pl_. There is a great deal more sound sense in it than you suppose, +Terpsion. Besides, what right have you young fellows got to be prying +after other men's goods, and thrusting yourselves upon your childless +elders? You look rather foolish, when you get buried first; it tickles +people immensely; the more fervent your prayers for the death of your +aged friend, the greater is the general exultation when you precede +him. It has become quite a profession lately, this amorous devotion to +old men and women,--childless, of course; children destroy the +illusion. By the way though, some of the beloved objects see through +your dirty motives well enough by now; they have children, but they +pretend to hate them, and so have lovers all the same. When their +wills come to be read, their faithful bodyguard is not included: +nature asserts itself, the children get their rights, and the lovers +realize, with gnashings of teeth, that they have been taken in. + +_Ter_. Too true! The luxuries that Thucritus has enjoyed at my +expense! He always looked as if he were at the point of death. I never +went to see him, but he would groan and squeak like a chicken barely +out of the shell: I considered that he might step into his coffin at +any moment, and heaped gift upon gift, for fear of being outdone in +generosity by my rivals; I passed anxious, sleepless nights, reckoning +and arranging all; 'twas this, the sleeplessness and the anxiety, that +brought me to my death. And he swallows my bait whole, and attends my +funeral chuckling. + +_Pl_. Well done, Thucritus! Long may you live to enjoy your wealth,-- +and your joke at the youngsters' expense; many a toady may you send +hither before your own time comes! + +_Ter_. Now I think of it, it _would_ be a satisfaction if Charoeades +were to die before him. + +_Pl_. Charoeades! My dear Terpsion, Phido, Melanthus,--every one of +them will be here before Thucritus,--all victims of this same anxiety! + +_Ter_. That is as it should be. Hold on, Thucritus! + +F. + + + + +VII + +_Zenophantus. Callidemides_ + + +_Ze_. Ah, Callidemides, and how did _you_ come by your end? As for me, +I was free of Dinias's table, and there died of a surfeit; but that is +stale news; you were there, of course. + +_Cal_. Yes, I was. Now there was an element of surprise about _my_ +fate. I suppose you know that old Ptoeodorus? + +_Ze_. The rich man with no children, to whom you gave most of your +company? + +_Cal_. That is the man; he had promised to leave me his heir, and I +used to show my appreciation. However, it went on such a time; +Tithonus was a juvenile to him; so I found a short cut to my property. +I bought a potion, and agreed with the butler that next time his +master called for wine (he is a pretty stiff drinker) he should have +this ready in a cup and present it; and I was pledged to reward the +man with his freedom. + +_Ze_. And what happened? this is interesting. + +_Cal_. When we came from bath, the young fellow had two cups ready, +one with the poison for Ptoeodorus, and the other for me; but by some +blunder he handed me the poisoned cup, and Ptoeodorus the plain; and +behold, before he had done drinking, there was I sprawling on the +ground, a vicarious corpse! Why are you laughing so, Zenophantus? I am +your friend; such mirth is unseemly. + +_Ze_. Well, it was such a humorous exit. And how did the old man +behave? + +_Cal_. He was dreadfully distressed for the moment; then he saw, I +suppose, and laughed as much as you over the butler's trick. + +_Ze_. Ah, short cuts are no better for you than for other people, you +see; the high road would have been safer, if not quite so quick. + +H. + + + + +VIII + +_Cnemon. Damnippus_ + + +_Cne_. Why, 'tis the proverb fulfilled! The fawn hath taken the lion. + +_Dam_. What's the matter, Cnemon? + +_Cne_. The matter! I have been fooled, miserably fooled. I have passed +over all whom I should have liked to make my heirs, and left my money +to the wrong man. + +_Dam_. How was that? + +_Cne_. I had been speculating on the death of Hermolaus, the +millionaire. He had no children, and my attentions had been well +received by him. I thought it would be a good idea to let him know +that I had made my will in his favour, on the chance of its exciting +his emulation. + +_Dam_. Yes; and Hermolaus? + +_Cne_. What _his_ will was, I don't know. I died suddenly,--the roof +came down about my ears; and now Hermolaus is my heir. The pike has +swallowed hook and bait. + +_Dam_. And your anglership into the bargain. The pit that you digged +for other.... + +_Cue_. That's about the truth of the matter, confound it. + +F. + + + + +IX + +_Simylus. Polystratus_ + + +_Si_. So here you are at last, Polystratus; you must be something very +like a centenarian. + +_Pol_. Ninety-eight. + +_Si_. And what sort of a life have you had of it, these thirty years? +you were about seventy when I died. + +_Pol_. Delightful, though you may find it hard to believe. + +_Si_. It is surprising that you could have any joy of your life--old, +weak, and childless, moreover. + +_Pol_. In the first place, I could do just what I liked; there were +still plenty of handsome boys and dainty women; perfumes were sweet, +wine kept its bouquet, Sicilian feasts were nothing to mine. + +_Si_. This _is_ a change, to be sure; you were very economical in my +day. + +_Pol_. Ah, but, my simple friend, these good things were presents-- +came in streams. From dawn my doors were thronged with visitors, and +in the day it was a procession of the fairest gifts of earth. + +_Si_. Why, you must have seized the crown after my death. + +_Pol_. Oh no, it was only that I inspired a number of tender passions. + +_Si_. Tender passions, indeed! what, you, an old man with hardly a +tooth left in your head! + +_Pol_. Certainly; the first of our townsmen were in love with me. Such +as you see me, old, bald, blear-eyed, rheumy, they delighted to do me +honour; happy was the man on whom my glance rested a moment. + +_Si_. Well, then, you had some adventure like Phaon's, when he rowed +Aphrodite across from Chios; your God granted your prayer and made you +young and fair and lovely again. + +_Pol_. No, no; I was as you see me, and I was the object of all +desire. + +_Si_. Oh, I give it up. + +_Pol_. Why, I should have thought you knew the violent passion for old +men who have plenty of money and no children. + +_Si_. Ah, now I comprehend your beauty, old fellow; it was the +_Golden_ Aphrodite bestowed it. + +_Pol_. I assure you, Simylus, I had a good deal of satisfaction out of +my lovers; they idolized me, almost. Often I would be coy and shut +some of them out. Such rivalries! such jealous emulations! + +_Si_. And how did you dispose of your fortune in the end? + +_Pol_. I gave each an express promise to make him my heir; he +believed, and treated me to more attentions than ever; meanwhile I had +another genuine will, which was the one I left, with a message to them +all to go hang. + +_Si_. Who was the heir by this one? one of your relations, I suppose. + +_Pol_. Not likely; it was a handsome young Phrygian I had lately +bought. + +_Si_. Age? + +_Pol_. About twenty. + +_Si_. Ah, I can guess his office. + +_Pol_. Well, you know, he deserved the inheritance much better than +they did; he was a barbarian and a rascal; but by this time he has the +best of society at his beck. So he inherited; and now he is one of the +aristocracy; his smooth chin and his foreign accent are no bars to his +being called nobler than Codrus, handsomer than Nireus, wiser than +Odysseus. + +_Si_. Well, _I_ don't mind; let him be Emperor of Greece, if he likes, +so long as he keeps the property away from that other crew. + +H. + + + + +X + +_Charon. Hermes. Various Shades_ + + +_Ch_. I'll tell you how things stand. Our craft, as you see, is small, +and leaky, and three-parts rotten; a single lurch, and she will +capsize without more ado. And here are all you passengers, each with +his luggage. If you come on board like that, I am afraid you may have +cause to repent it; especially those who have not learnt to swim. + +_Her_. Then how are we to make a trip of it? + +_Ch_. I'll tell you. They must leave all this nonsense behind them on +shore, and come aboard in their skins. As it is, there will be no room +to spare. And in future, Hermes, mind you admit no one till he has +cleared himself of encumbrances, as I say. Stand by the gangway, and +keep an eye on them, and make them strip before you let them pass. + +_Her_. Very good. Well, Number One, who are you? + +_Men_. Menippus. Here are my wallet and staff; overboard with them. I +had the sense not to bring my cloak. + +_Her_. Pass on, Menippus; you're a good fellow; you shall have the +seat of honour, up by the pilot, where you can see every one.--Here is +a handsome person; who is he? + +_Char_. Charmoleos of Megara; the irresistible, whose kiss was worth a +thousand pounds. + +_Her_. That beauty must come off,--lips, kisses, and all; the flowing +locks, the blushing cheeks, the skin entire. That's right. Now we're +in better trim;--you may pass on.--And who is the stunning gentleman +in the purple and the diadem? + +_Lam_. I am Lampichus, tyrant of Gela. + +_Her_. And what is all this splendour doing here, Lampichus? + +_Lam_. How! would you have a tyrant come hither stripped? + +_Her_. A tyrant! That would be too much to expect. But with a shade we +must insist. Off with these things. + +_Lam_. There, then: away goes my wealth. + +_Her_. Pomp must go too, and pride; we shall be overfreighted else. + +_Lam_. At least let me keep my diadem and robes. + +_Her_. No, no; off they come! + +_Lam_. Well? That is all, as you see for yourself. + +_Her_. There is something more yet: cruelty, folly, insolence, hatred. + +_Lam_. There then: I am bare. + +_Her_. Pass on.--And who may you be, my bulky friend? + +_Dam_. Damasias the athlete. + +_Her_. To be sure; many is the time I have seen you in the gymnasium. + +_Dam_. You have. Well, I have peeled; let me pass. + +_Her_. Peeled! my dear sir, what, with all this fleshy encumbrance? +Come, off with it; we should go to the bottom if you put one foot +aboard. And those crowns, those victories, remove them. + +_Dam_. There; no mistake about it this time; I am as light as any +shade among them. + +_Her_. That's more the kind of thing. On with you.--Crato, you can +take off that wealth and luxury and effeminacy; and we can't have that +funeral pomp here, nor those ancestral glories either; down with your +rank and reputation, and any votes of thanks or inscriptions you have +about you; and you need not tell us what size your tomb was; remarks +of that kind come heavy. + +_Cra_. Well, if I must, I must; there's no help for it. + +_Her_. Hullo! in full armour? What does this mean? and why this +trophy? + +_A General_. I am a great conqueror; a valiant warrior; my country's +pride. + +_Her_. The trophy may stop behind; we are at peace; there is no demand +for arms.--Whom have we here? whose is this knitted Drow, this flowing +beard? 'Tis some reverend sage, if outside goes for anything; he +mutters; he is wrapped in meditation. + +_Men_. That's a philosopher, Hermes; and an impudent quack not the +bargain. Have him out of that cloak; you will find something to amuse +you underneath it. + +_Her_. Off with your clothes first; and then we will see to the rest. +My goodness, what a bundle: quackery, ignorance, quarrelsomeness, +vainglory; idle questionings, prickly arguments, intricate +conceptions; humbug and gammon and wishy-washy hair-splittings without +end; and hullo! why here's avarice, and self-indulgence, and +impudence! luxury, effeminacy and peevishness!--Yes, I see them all; +you need not try to hide them. Away with falsehood and swagger and +superciliousness; why, the three-decker is not built that would hold +you with all this luggage. + +_A Philosopher_. I resign them all, since such is your bidding. + +_Men_. Have his beard off too, Hermes; only look what a ponderous bush +of a thing! There's a good five pounds' weight there. + +_Her_. Yes; the beard must go. + +_Phil_. And who shall shave me? + +_Her_. Menippus here shall take it off with the carpenter's axe; the +gangway will serve for a block. + +_Men_. Oh, can't I have a saw, Hermes? It would be much better fun. + +_Her_. The axe must serve.--Shrewdly chopped!--Why, you look more like +a man and less like a goat already. + +_Men_. A little off the eyebrows? + +_Her_. Why, certainly; he has trained them up all over his forehead, +for reasons best known to himself.--Worm! what, snivelling? afraid of +death? Oh, get on board with you. + +_Men_. He has still got the biggest thumper of all under his arm. + +_Her_. What's that? + +_Men_. Flattery; many is the good turn that has done him. + +_Phil_. Oh, all right, Menippus; suppose you leave your independence +behind you, and your plain--speaking, and your indifference, and your +high spirit, and your jests!--No one else here has a jest about him. + +_Her_. Don't you, Menippus! you stick to them; useful commodities, +these, on shipboard; light and handy.--You rhetorician there, with +your verbosities and your barbarisms, your antitheses and balances and +periods, off with the whole pack of them. + +_Rhet_. Away they go. + +_Her_. All's ready. Loose the cable, and pull in the gangway; haul up +the anchor; spread all sail; and, pilot, look to your helm. Good luck +to our voyage!--What are you all whining about, you fools? You +philosopher, late of the beard,--you're as bad as any of them. + +_Phil_. Ah, Hermes: I had thought that the soul was immortal. + +_Men_. He lies: that is not the cause of his distress. + +_Her_. What is it, then? + +_Men_. He knows that he will never have a good dinner again; never +sneak about at night with his cloak over his head, going the round of +the brothels; never spend his mornings in fooling boys out of their +money, under the pretext of teaching them wisdom. + +_Phil_. And pray are _you_ content to be dead? + +_Men_. It may be presumed so, as I sought death of my own accord.--By +the way, I surely heard a noise, as if people were shouting on the +earth? + +_Her_. You did; and from more than one quarter.--There are people +running in a body to the Town-hall, exulting over the death of +Lampichus; the women have got hold of his wife; his infant children +fare no better,--the boys are giving them handsome pelting. Then again +you hear the applause that greets the orator Diophantus, as he +pronounces the funeral oration of our friend Crato. Ah yes, and that's +Damasias's mother, with her women, striking up a dirge. No one has +tear for you, Menippus; your remains are left in peace. Privileged +person! + +_Men_. Wait a bit: before long you will hear the mournful howl of +dogs, and the beating of crows' wings, as they gather to perform my +funeral rites. + +_Her_. I like your spirit.--However, here we are in port. Away with +you all to the judgement-seat; it is straight ahead. The ferryman and +I must go back for a fresh load. + +_Men_. Good voyage to you, Hermes.--Let us be getting on; what are you +all waiting for? We have got to face the judge, sooner or later; and +by all accounts his sentences are no joke; wheels, rocks, vultures are +mentioned. Every detail of our lives will now come to light! + +F. + + + + +XI + +_Crates. Diogenes_ + + +_Cra_. Did you know Moerichus of Corinth, Diogenes? A shipowner, +rolling in money, with a cousin called Aristeas, nearly as rich. He +had a Homeric quotation:--Wilt thou heave me? shall I heave thee? + +[Footnote: Homer, Il. xxiii. 724. When Ajax and Odysseus have wrestled +for some time without either's producing any impression, and the +spectators are getting tired of it, the former proposes a change in +tactics. "Let us hoist--try you with me or I with you." The idea +evidently is that each in turn is to offer only a passive resistance, +and let his adversary try to fling him thus.' _Leaf_.] + +_Diog_. What was the point of it? + +_Cra_. Why, the cousins were of equal age, expected to succeed to each +other's wealth, and behaved accordingly. They published their wills, +each naming the other sole heir in case of his own prior decease. So +it stood in black and white, and they vied with each other in showing +that deference which the relation demands. All the prophets, +astrologers, and Chaldean dream-interpreters alike, and Apollo himself +for that matter, held different views at different times about the +winner; the thousands seemed to incline now to Aristeas's side, now to +Moerichus's. + +_Diog_. And how did it end? I am quite curious. + +_Cra_. They both died on the same day, and the properties passed to +Eunomius and Thrasycles, two relations who had never had a +presentiment of it. They had been crossing from Sicyon to Cirrha, when +they were taken aback by a squall from the north-west, and capsized in +mid-channel. + +_Diog_. Cleverly done. Now, when we were alive, we never had such +designs on one another. I never prayed for Antisthenes's death, with a +view to inheriting his staff--though it was an extremely serviceable +one, which he had cut himself from a wild olive; and I do not credit +you, Crates, with ever having had an eye to my succession; it included +the tub, and a wallet with two pints of lupines in it. + +_Cra_. Why, no; these things were superfluities to me--and to +yourself, indeed. The real necessities you inherited from Antisthenes, +and I from you; and in those necessities was more grandeur and majesty +than in the Persian Empire. + +_Diog_. You allude to--- + +_Cra_. Wisdom, independence, truth, frankness, freedom. + +_Diog_. To be sure; now I think of it, I did inherit all this from +Antisthenes, and left it to you with some addition. + +_Cra_. Others, however, were not interested in such property; no one +paid us the attentions of an expectant heir; they all lad their eyes +on gold, instead. + +_Diog_. Of course; they had no receptacle for such things as we could +give; luxury had made them so leaky--as full of holes as a worn-out +purse. Put wisdom, frankness, or truth into them, and it would have +dropped out; the bottom of the bag would have let them through, like +the perforated cask into which those poor Danaids are always pouring. +Gold, on the other hand, they could grip with tooth or nail or +somehow. + +_Cra_. Result: our wealth will still be ours down here; while they +will arrive with no more than one penny, and even that must be left +with the ferryman. + +H. + + + + +XII + +_Alexander. Hannibal. Minos. Scipio_ + + +_Alex_. Libyan, I claim precedence of you. I am the better man. + +_Han_. Pardon me. + +_Alex_. Then let Minos decide. + +_Mi_. Who are you both? + +_Alex_. This is Hannibal, the Carthaginian: I am Alexander, the son of +Philip. + +_Mi_. Bless me, a distinguished pair! And what is the quarrel about? + +_Alex_. It is a question of precedence. He says he is the better +general: and I maintain that neither Hannibal nor (I might almost add) +any of my predecessors was my equal in strategy; all the world knows +that. + +_Mi_. Well, you shall each have your say in turn: the Libyan first. + +_Han_. Fortunately for me, Minos, I have mastered Greek since I have +been here; so that my adversary will not have even that advantage of +me. Now I hold that the highest praise is due to those who have won +their way to greatness from obscurity; who have clothed themselves in +power, and shown themselves fit for dominion. I myself entered Spain +with a handful of men, took service under my brother, and was found +worthy of the supreme command. I conquered the Celtiberians, subdued +Western Gaul, crossed the Alps, overran the valley of the Po, sacked +town after town, made myself master of the plains, approached the +bulwarks of the capital, and in one day slew such a host, that their +finger-rings were measured by bushels, and the rivers were bridged by +their bodies. And this I did, though I had never been called a son of +Ammon; I never pretended to be a god, never related visions of my +mother; I made no secret of the fact that I was mere flesh and blood. +My rivals were the ablest generals in the world, commanding the best +soldiers in the world; I warred not with Medes or Assyrians, who fly +before they are pursued, and yield the victory to him that dares take +it. + +Alexander, on the other hand, in increasing and extending as he did +the dominion which he had inherited from his father, was but following +the impetus given to him by Fortune. And this conqueror had no sooner +crushed his puny adversary by the victories of Issus and Arbela, than +he forsook the traditions of his country, and lived the life of a +Persian; accepting the prostrations of his subjects, assassinating his +friends at his own table, or handing them over to the executioner. I +in my command respected the freedom of my country, delayed not to obey +her summons, when the enemy with their huge armament invaded Libya, +laid aside the privileges of my office, and submitted to my sentence +without a murmur. Yet I was a barbarian all unskilled in Greek +culture; I could not recite Homer, nor had I enjoyed the advantages of +Aristotle's instruction; I had to make a shift with such qualities as +were mine by nature.--It is on these grounds that I claim the +pre-eminence. My rival has indeed all the lustre that attaches to the +wearing of a diadem, and--I know not--for Macedonians such things may +have charms: but I cannot think that this circumstance constitutes a +higher claim than the courage and genius of one who owed nothing to +Fortune, and everything to his own resolution. + +_Mi_. Not bad, for a Libyan.--Well, Alexander, what do you say to +that? + +_Alex_. Silence, Minos, would be the best answer to such confident +self-assertion. The tongue of Fame will suffice of itself to convince +you that I was a great prince, and my opponent a petty adventurer. But +I would have you consider the distance between us. Called to the +throne while I was yet a boy, I quelled the disorders of my kingdom, +and avenged my father's murder. By the destruction of Thebes, I +inspired the Greeks with such awe, that they appointed me their +commander-in-chief; and from that moment, scorning to confine myself +to the kingdom that I inherited from my father, I extended my gaze +over the entire face of the earth, and thought it shame if I should +govern less than the whole. With a small force I invaded Asia, gained +a great victory on the Granicus, took Lydia, lonia, Phrygia,--in +short, subdued all that was within my reach, before I commenced my +march for Issus, where Darius was waiting for me at the head of his +myriads. You know the sequel: yourselves can best say what was the +number of the dead whom on one day I dispatched hither. The ferryman +tells me that his boat would not hold them; most of them had to come +across on rafts of their own construction. In these enterprises, I was +ever at the head of my troops, ever courted danger. To say nothing of +Tyre and Arbela, I penetrated into India, and carried my empire to the +shores of Ocean; I captured elephants; I conquered Porus; I crossed +the Tanais, and worsted the Scythians--no mean enemies--in a +tremendous cavalry engagement. I heaped benefits upon my friends: I +made my enemies taste my resentment. If men took me for a god, I +cannot blame them; the vastness of my undertakings might excuse such a +belief. But to conclude. I died a king: Hannibal, a fugitive at the +court of the Bithynian Prusias--fitting end for villany and cruelty. +Of his Italian victories I say nothing; they were the fruit not of +honest legitimate warfare, but of treachery, craft, and dissimulation. +He taunts me with self-indulgence: my illustrious friend has surely +forgotten the pleasant time he spent in Capua among the ladies, while +the precious moments fleeted by. Had I not scorned the Western world, +and turned my attention to the East, what would it have cost me to +make the bloodless conquest of Italy, and Libya, and all, as far West +as Gades? But nations that already cowered beneath a master were +unworthy of my sword.--I have finished, Minos, and await your +decision; of the many arguments I might have used, these shall +suffice. + +_Sci_. First, Minos, let me speak. + +_Mi_. And who are you, friend? and where do you come from? + +_Sci_. I am Scipio, the Roman general, who destroyed Carthage, and +gained great victories over the Libyans. + +_Mi_. Well, and what have you to say? + +_Sci_. That Alexander is my superior, and I am Hannibal's, having +defeated him, and driven him to ignominious flight. What impudence is +this, to contend with Alexander, to whom I, your conqueror, would not +presume to compare myself! + +_Mi_. Honestly spoken, Scipio, on my word! Very well, then: Alexander +comes first, and you next; and I think we must say Hannibal third. And +a very creditable third, too. + +F. + + + + +XIII + +_Diogenes. Alexander_ + + +_Diog_. Dear me, Alexander, _you_ dead like the rest of us? + +_Alex_. As you see, sir; is there anything extraordinary in a mortal's +dying? + +_Diog_. So Ammon lied when he said you were his son; you were Philip's +after all. + +_Alex_. Apparently; if I had been Ammon's, I should not have died. + +_Diog_. Strange! there were tales of the same order about Olympias +too. A serpent visited her, and was seen in her bed; we were given to +understand that that was how you came into the world, and Philip made +a mistake when he took you for his. + +_Alex_. Yes, I was told all that myself; however, I know now that my +mother's and the Ammon stories were all moonshine. + +_Diog_. Their lies were of some practical value to you, though; your +divinity brought a good many people to their knees. But now, whom did +you leave your great empire to? + +_Alex_. Diogenes, I cannot tell you. I had no time to leave any +directions about it, beyond just giving Perdiccas my ring as I died. +Why are you laughing? + +_Diog_. Oh, I was only thinking of the Greeks' behaviour; directly you +succeeded, how they flattered you! their elected patron, generalissimo +against the barbarian; one of the twelve Gods according to some; +temples built and sacrifices offered to the Serpent's son! If I may +ask, where did your Macedonians bury you? + +_Alex_. I have lain in Babylon a full month to-day; and Ptolemy of the +Guards is pledged, as soon as he can get a moment's respite from +present disturbances, to take and bury me in Egypt, there to be +reckoned among the Gods. + +_Diog_. I have some reason to laugh, you see; still nursing vain hopes +of developing into an Osiris or Anubis! Pray, your Godhead, put these +expectations from you; none may re-ascend who has once sailed the lake +and penetrated our entrance; Aeacus is watchful, and Cerberus an +awkward customer. But there is one thing I wish you would tell me: how +do you like thinking over all the earthly bliss you left to come here +--your guards and armour-bearers and lieutenant-governors, your heaps +of gold and adoring peoples, Babylon and Bactria, your huge elephants, +your honour and glory, those conspicuous drives with white-cinctured +locks and clasped purple cloak? does the thought of them _hurt_? What, +crying? silly fellow! did not your wise Aristotle include in his +instructions any hint of the insecurity of fortune's favours? + +_Alex_. Wise? call him the craftiest of all flatterers. Allow me to +know a little more than other people about Aristotle; his requests +and his letters came to _my_ address; _I_ know how he profited by my +passion for culture; how he would toady and compliment me, to be sure! +now it was my beauty--that too is included under The Good; now it was +my deeds and my money; for money too he called a Good--he meant that +he was not going to be ashamed of taking it. Ah, Diogenes, an +impostor; and a past master at it too. For me, the result of his +wisdom is that I am distressed for the things you catalogued just now, +as if I had lost in them the chief Goods. + +_Diog_. Wouldst know thy course? I will prescribe for your distress. +Our flora, unfortunately, does not include hellebore; but you take +plenty of Lethe-water--good, deep, repeated draughts; that will +relieve your distress over the Aristotelian Goods. Quick; here are +Clitus, Callisthenes, and a lot of others making for you; they mean to +tear you in pieces and pay you out. Here, go the opposite way; and +remember, repeated draughts. + +H. + + + + +XIV + +_Philip. Alexander_ + + +_Phil_. You cannot deny that you are my son this time, Alexander; you +would not have died if you had been Ammon's. + +_Alex_. I knew all the time that you, Philip, son of Amyntas, were my +father. I only accepted the statement of the oracle because I thought +it was good policy. + +_Phil_. What, to suffer yourself to be fooled by lying priests? + +_Alex_. No, but it had an awe-inspiring effect upon the barbarians. +When they thought they had a God to deal with, they gave up the +struggle; which made their conquest a simple matter. + +_Phil_. And whom did _you_ ever conquer that was worth conquering? +Your adversaries were ever timid creatures, with their bows and their +targets and their wicker shields. It was other work conquering the +Greeks: Boeotians, Phocians, Athenians; Arcadian hoplites, Thessalian +cavalry, javelin-men from Elis, peltasts of Mantinea; Thracians, +Illyrians, Paeonians; to subdue these was something. But for +gold-laced womanish Medes and Persians and Chaldaeans,--why, it had +been done before: did you never hear of the expedition of the Ten +Thousand under Clearchus? and how the enemy would not even come to +blows with them, but ran away before they were within bow-shot? + +_Alex_. Still, there were the Scythians, father, and the Indian +elephants; they were no joke. And _my_ conquests were not gained by +dissension or treachery; I broke no oath, no promise, nor ever +purchased victory at the expense of honour. As to the Greeks, most of +them joined me without a struggle; and I dare say you have heard how I +handled Thebes. + +_Phil_. I know all about that; I had it from Clitus, whom you ran +through the body, in the middle of dinner, because he presumed to +mention my achievements in the same breath with yours. They tell me +too that you took to aping the manners of your conquered Medes; +abandoned the Macedonian cloak in favour of the _candies_, assumed the +upright tiara, and exacted oriental prostrations from Macedonian +freemen! This is delicious. As to your brilliant matches, and your +beloved Hephaestion, and your scholars in lions' cages,--the less said +the better. I have only heard one thing to your credit: you respected +the person of Darius's beautiful wife, and you provided for his mother +and daughters; there you acted like a king. + +_Alex_. And have you nothing to say of my adventurous spirit, father, +when I was the first to leap down within the ramparts of Oxydracae, +and was covered with wounds? + +_Phil_. Not a word. Not that it is a bad thing, in my opinion, for a +king to get wounded occasionally, and to face danger at the head of +his troops: but this was the last thing that you were called upon to +do. You were passing for a God; and your being wounded, and carried +off the field on a litter, bleeding and groaning, could only excite +the ridicule of the spectators: Ammon stood convicted of quackery, his +oracle of falsehood, his priests of flattery. The son of Zeus in a +swoon, requiring medical assistance! who could help laughing at the +sight? And now that you have died, can you doubt that many a jest is +being cracked on the subject of your divinity, as men contemplate the +God's corpse laid out for burial, and already going the way of all +flesh? Besides, your achievements lose half their credit from this +very circumstance which you say was so useful in facilitating your +conquests: nothing you did could come up to your divine reputation. + +_Alex_. The world thinks otherwise. I am ranked with Heracles and +Dionysus; and, for that matter, I took Aornos, which was more than +either of them could do. + +_Phil_. There spoke the son of Ammon. Heracles and Dionysus, indeed! +You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Alexander; when will you learn to +drop that bombast, and know yourself for the shade that you are? + +F. + + + + +XV + +_Antilochus. Achilles_ + + +_Ant_. Achilles, what you were saying to Odysseus the other day about +death was very poor-spirited; I should have expected better things +from a pupil of Chiron and Phoenix. I was listening; you said you +would rather be a servant on earth to some poor hind 'of scanty +livelihood possessed,' than king of all the dead. Such sentiments +might have been very well in the mouth of a poor-spirited cowardly +Phrygian, dishonourably in love with life: for the son of Peleus, +boldest of all Heroes, so to vilify himself, is a disgrace; it gives +the lie to all your life; you might have had a long inglorious reign +in Phthia, and your own choice was death and glory. + +_Ach_. In those days, son of Nestor, I knew not this place; ignorant +whether of those two was the better, I esteemed that flicker of fame +more than life; now I see that it is worthless, let folk up there make +what verses of it they will. 'Tis dead level among the dead, +Antilochus; strength and beauty are no more; we welter all in the same +gloom, one no better than another; the shades of Trojans fear me not, +Achaeans pay me no reverence; each may say what he will; a man is a +ghost, 'or be he churl, or be he peer.' It irks me; I would fain be a +servant, and alive. + +_Ant_. But what help, Achilles? 'tis Nature's decree that by all means +all die. We must abide by her law, and not fret at her commands. +Consider too how many of us are with you here; Odysseus comes ere +long; how else? Is there not comfort in the common fate? 'tis +something not to suffer alone. See Heracles, Meleager, and many +another great one; they, methinks, would not choose return, if one +would send them up to serve poor destitute men. + +_Ach_. Ay, your intent is friendly; but I know not, the thought of the +past life irks me--and each of you too, if I mistake not. And if you +confess it not, the worse for you, smothering your pain. + +_Ant_. Not the worse, Achilles; the better; for we see that speech is +unavailing. Be silent, bear, endure--that is our resolve, lest such +longings bring mockery on us, as on you. + +H. + + + + +XVI + +_Diogenes. Heracles_ + + +_Diog_. Surely this is Heracles I see? By his godhead, 'tis no other! +The bow, the club, the lion's-skin, the giant frame; 'tis Heracles +complete. Yet how should this be?--a son of Zeus, and mortal? I say, +Mighty Conqueror, are you dead? I used to sacrifice to you in the +other world; I understood you were a God! + +_Her_. Thou didst well. Heracles is with the Gods in Heaven, + + And hath white-ankled Hebe there to wife. + +I am his phantom. + +_Diog_. His phantom! What then, can one half of any one be a God, and +the other half mortal? + +_Her_. Even so. The God still lives. 'Tis I, his counterpart, am dead. + +_Diog_. I see. You're a dummy; he palms you off upon Pluto, instead of +coming himself. And here are you, enjoying _his_ mortality! + +_Her_. 'Tis somewhat as thou hast said. + +_Diog_. Well, but where were Aeacus's keen eyes, that he let a +counterfeit Heracles pass under his very nose, and never knew the +difference? + +_Her_. I was made very like to him. + +_Diog_. I believe you! Very like indeed, no difference at all! Why, we +may find it's the other way round, that you are Heracles, and the +phantom is in Heaven, married to Hebe! + +_Her_. Prating knave, no more of thy gibes; else thou shalt presently +learn how great a God calls me phantom. + +_Diog_. H'm. That bow looks as if it meant business. And yet,--what +have I to fear now? A man can die but once. Tell me, phantom,--by +your great Substance I adjure you--did you serve him in your present +capacity in the upper world? Perhaps you were one individual during +your lives, the separation taking place only at your deaths, when he, +the God, soared heavenwards, and you, the phantom, very properly made +your appearance here? + +_Her_. Thy ribald questions were best unanswered. Yet thus much thou +shalt know.--All that was Amphitryon in Heracles, is dead; I am that +mortal part. The Zeus in him lives, and is with the Gods in Heaven. + +_Diog_. Ah, now I see! Alcmena had twins, you mean,--Heracles the son +of Zeus, and Heracles the son of Amphitryon? You were really +half-bothers all the time? + +_Her_. Fool! not so. We twain were one Heracles. + +_Diog_. It's a little difficult to grasp, the two Heracleses packed +into one. I suppose you must have been like a sort of Centaur, man and +God all mixed together? + +_Her_. And are not all thus composed of two elements,--the body and +the soul? What then should hinder the soul from being in Heaven, with +Zeus who gave it, and the mortal part--myself--among the dead? + +_Diog_. Yes, yes, my esteemed son of Amphitryon,--that would be all +very well if you were a body; but you see you are a phantom, you have +no body. At this rate we shall get three Heracleses. + +_Her_. _Three_? + +_Diog_. Yes; look here. One in Heaven: one in Hades, that's you, the +phantom: and lastly the body, which by this time has returned to dust. +That makes three. Can you think of a good father for number Three? + +_Her_. Impudent quibbler! And who art _thou_? + +_Diog_. I am Diogenes's phantom, late of Sinope. But my original, I +assure you, is not 'among th' immortal Gods,' but here among dead men; +where he enjoys the best of company, and snaps my ringers at Homer and +all hair-splitting. + +F. + + + + +XVII + +_Menippus. Tantalus_ + + +_Me_. What are you crying out about, Tantalus? standing at the edge +and whining like that! + +_Tan_. Ah, Menippus, I thirst, I perish! + +_Me_. What, not enterprise enough to bend down to it, or scoop up some +in your palm? + +_Tan_. It is no use bending down; the water shrinks away as soon as it +sees me coming. And if I do scoop it up and get it to my mouth, the +outside of my lips is hardly moist before it has managed to run +through my fingers, and my hand is as dry as ever. + +_Me_. A very odd experience, that. But by the way, why do you want to +drink? you have no body--the part of you that was liable to hunger and +thirst is buried in Lydia somewhere; how can you, the spirit, hunger +or thirst any more? + +_Tan_. Therein lies my punishment--soul thirsts as if it were body. + +_Me_. Well, let that pass, as you say thirst is your punishment. But +why do you mind it? are you afraid of _dying_, for want of drink? I do +not know of any second Hades; can you die to this one, and go further? + +_Tan_. No, that is quite true. But you see this is part of the +sentence: I must long for drink, though I have no need of it. + +_Me_. There is no meaning in that. There _is_ a draught you need, +though; some neat hellebore is what _you_ want; you are suffering from +a converse hydrophobia; you are not afraid of water, but you are of +thirst. + +_Tan_. I would as life drink hellebore as anything, if I could but +drink. + +_Me_. Never fear, Tantalus; neither you nor any other ghost will ever +do that; it is impossible, you see; just as well we have not all got a +penal thirst like you, with the water running away from us. + +H. + + + + +XVIII + +_Menippus. Hermes_ + + +_Me_. Where are all the beauties, Hermes? Show me round; I am a +new-comer. + +_Her_. I am busy, Menippus. But look over there to your right, and you +will see Hyacinth, Narcissus, Nireus, Achilles, Tyro, Helen, Leda,-- +all the beauties of old. + +_Me_. I can only see bones, and bare skulls; most of them are exactly +alike. + +_Her_. Those bones, of which you seem to think so lightly, have been +the theme of admiring poets. + +_Me_. Well, but show me Helen; I shall never be able to make her out +by myself. + +_Her_. This skull is Helen. + +_Me_. And for this a thousand ships carried warriors from every part +of Greece; Greeks and barbarians were slain, and cities made desolate. + +_Her_. Ah, Menippus, you never saw the living Helen; or you would have +said with Homer, + + Well might they suffer grievous years of toil + Who strove for such a prize. + +We look at withered flowers, whose dye is gone from them, and what can +we call them but unlovely things? Yet in the hour of their bloom these +unlovely things were things of beauty. + +_Me_. Strange, that the Greeks could not realize what it was for which +they laboured; how short-lived, how soon to fade. + +_Her_. I have no time for moralizing. Choose your spot, where you +will, and lie down. I must go to fetch new dead. + +F. + + + + +XIX + +_Aeacus. Protesilaus. Menelaus. Paris_ + + +_Aea_. Now then, Protesilaus, what do you mean by assaulting and +throttling Helen? + +_Pro_. Why, it was all her fault that I died, leaving my house half +built, and my bride a widow. + +_Aea_. You should blame Menelaus, for taking you all to Troy after +such a light-o'-love. + +_Pro_. That is true; he shall answer it. + +_Me_. No, no, my dear sir; Paris surely is the man; he outraged all +rights in carrying off his host's wife with him. _He_ deserves +throttling, if you like, and not from you only, but from Greeks and +barbarians as well, for all the deaths he brought upon them. + +_Pro_. Ah, now I have it. Here, you--you _Paris! you_ shall not escape +my clutches. + +_Pa_. Oh, come, sir, you will never wrong one of the same gentle craft +as yourself. Am I not a lover too, and a subject of your deity? +against love you know (with the best will in the world) how vain it is +to strive; 'tis a spirit that draws us whither it will. + +_Pro_. There is reason in that. Oh, would that I had Love himself here +in these hands! + +_Aea_. Permit me to charge myself with his defence. He does not +absolutely deny his responsibility for Paris's love; but that for your +death he refers to yourself, Protesilaus. You forgot all about your +bride, fell in love with fame, and, directly the fleet touched the +Troad, took that rash senseless leap, which brought you first to shore +and to death. + +_Pro_. Now it is my turn to correct, Aeacus. The blame does not rest +with me, but with Fate; so was my thread spun from the beginning. + +_Aea_. Exactly so; then why blame our good friends here? + +H. + + + + +XX + +_Menippus. Aeacus. Various Shades_ + + +_Me_. In Pluto's name, Aeacus, show me all the sights of Hades. + +_Aea_. That would be rather an undertaking, Menippus. However, you +shall see the principal things. Cerberus here you know already, and +the ferryman who brought you over. And you saw the Styx on your way, +and Pyriphlegethon. + +_Me_. Yes, and you are the gate-keeper; I know all that; and I have +seen the King and the Furies. But show me the men of ancient days, +especially the celebrities. + +_Aea_. This is Agamemnon; this is Achilles; near him, Idomeneus; next +comes Odysseus; then Ajax, Diomede, and all the great Greeks. + +_Me_. Why, Homer, Homer, what is this? All your great heroes flung +down upon the earth, shapeless, undistinguishable; mere meaningless +dust; 'strengthless heads,' and no mistake.--Who is this one, Aeacus? + +_Aea_. That is Cyrus; and here is Croesus; beyond him Sardanapalus, +and beyond him again Midas. And yonder is Xerxes. + +_Me_. Ha! and it was before this creature that Greece trembled? this +is our yoker of Hellesponts, our designer of Athos-canals?--Croesus +too! a sad spectacle! As to Sardanapalus, I will lend him a box on the +ear, with your permission. + +_Aea_. And crack his skull, poor dear! Certainly not. + +_Me_. Then I must content myself with spitting in his ladyship's face. + +_Aea_. Would you like to see the philosophers? + +_Me_. I should like it of all things. + +_Aea_. First comes Pythagoras. + +_Me_. Good-day, Euphorbus, _alias_ Apollo, _alias_ what you will. + +_Py_. Good-day, Menippus. + +_Me_. What, no golden thigh nowadays? + +_Py_. Why, no. I wonder if there is anything to eat in that wallet of +yours? + +_Me_. Beans, friend; you don't like beans. + +_Py_. Try me. My principles have changed with my quarters. I find that +down here our parents' heads are in no way connected with beans. + +_Aea_. Here is Solon, the son of Execestides, and there is Thales. By +them are Pittacus, and the rest of the sages, seven in all, as you +see. _Me_. The only resigned and cheerful countenances yet. Who is the +one covered with ashes, like a loaf baked in the embers? He is all +over blisters. + +_Aea_. That is Empedocles. He was half-roasted when he got here from +Etna. + +_Me_. Tell me, my brazen-slippered friend, what induced you to jump +into the crater? + +_Em_. I did it in a fit of melancholy. + +_Me_. Not you. Vanity, pride, folly; these were what burnt you up, +slippers and all; and serve you right. All that ingenuity was thrown +away, too: your death was detected.--Aeacus, where is Socrates? + +_Aea_. He is generally talking nonsense with Nestor and Palamedes. + +_Me_. But I should like to see him, if he is anywhere about. + +_Aea_. You see the bald one? _Me_. They are all bald; that is a +distinction without a difference. + +_Aea_. The snub-nosed one. + +_Me_. There again: they are all snub-nosed. + +_Soc_. Do you want me, Menippus? + +_Me_. The very man I am looking for. + +_Soc_. How goes it in Athens? + +_Me_. There are a great many young men there professing philosophy; +and to judge from their dress and their walk, they should be perfect +in it. + +_Soc_. I have seen many such. + +_Me_. For that matter, I suppose you saw Aristippus arrive, reeking +with scent; and Plato, the polished flatterer from Sicilian courts? + +_Soc_. And what do they think about _me_ in Athens? + +_Me_. Ah, you are fortunate in that respect. You pass for a most +remarkable man, omniscient in fact. And all the time--if the truth +must out--you know absolutely nothing. + +_Soc_. I told them that myself: but they would have it that that was +my irony. + +_Me_. And who are your friends? + +_Soc_. Charmides; Phaedrus; the son of Clinias. + +_Me_. Ha, ha! still at your old trade; still an admirer of beauty. + +_Soc_. How could I be better occupied? Will you join us? + +_Me_. No, thank you; I am off, to take up my quarters by Croesus and +Sardanapalus. I expect huge entertainment from their outcries. + +_Aea_. I must be off, too; or some one may escape. You shall see the +rest another day, Menippus. + +_Me_. I need not detain you. I have seen enough. + +F. + + + + +XXI + +_Menippus. Cerberus_ + + +_Me_. My dear coz--for Cerberus and Cynic are surely related through +the dog--I adjure you by the Styx, tell me how Socrates behaved during +the descent. A God like you can doubtless articulate instead of +barking, if he chooses. + +_Cer_. Well, while he was some way off, he seemed quite unshaken; and +I thought he was bent on letting the people outside realize the fact +too. Then he passed into the opening and saw the gloom; I at the same +time gave him a touch of the hemlock, and a pull by the leg, as he was +rather slow. Then he squalled like a baby, whimpered about his +children, and, oh, I don't know what he didn't do. + +_Me_. So _he_ was one of the theorists, was he? His indifference was a +sham? + +_Cer_. Yes; it was only that he accepted the inevitable, and put a +bold face on it, pretending to welcome the universal fate, by way of +impressing the bystanders. All that sort are the same, I tell you-- +bold resolute fellows as far as the entrance; it is inside that the +real test comes. + +_Me_. What did you think of _my_ performance? + +_Cer_. Ah, Menippus, you were the exception; you are a credit to the +breed, and so was Diogenes before you. You two came in without any +compulsion or pushing, of your own free will, with a laugh for +yourselves and a curse for the rest. + +F. + + + + +XXII + +_Charon. Menippus. Hermes_ + + +_Ch_. Your fare, you rascal. + +_Me_. Bawl away, Charon, if it gives you any pleasure. + +_Ch_. I brought you across: give me my fare. + +_Me_. I can't, if I haven't got it. + +_Ch_. And who is so poor that he has not got a penny? + +_Me_. I for one; I don't know who else. + +_Ch_. Pay: or, by Pluto, I'll strangle you. + +_Me_. And I'll crack your skull with this stick. + +_Ch_. So you are to come all that way for nothing? + +_Me_. Let Hermes pay for me: he put me on board. + +_Her_. I dare say! A fine time I shall have of it, if I am to pay for +the shades. + +_Ch_. I'm not going to let you off. + +_Me_. You can haul up your ship and wait, for all I care. If I have +not got the money, I can't pay you, can I? + +_Ch_. You knew you ought to bring it? + +_Me_. I knew that: but I hadn't got it. What would you have? I ought +not to have died, I suppose? + +_Ch_. So you are to have the distinction of being the only passenger +that ever crossed gratis? + +_Me_. Oh, come now: gratis! I took an oar, and I baled; and I didn't +cry, which is more than can be said for any of the others. + +_Ch_. That's neither here nor there. I must have my penny; it's only +right. + +_Me_. Well, you had better take me back again to life. + +_Ch_. Yes, and get a thrashing from Aeacus for my pains! I like that. + +_Me_. Well, don't bother me. + +_Ch_. Let me see what you have got in that wallet. + +_Me_. Beans: have some?--and a Hecate's supper. + +_Ch_. Where did you pick up this Cynic, Hermes? The noise he made on +the crossing, too! laughing and jeering at all the rest, and singing, +when every one else was at his lamentations. + +_Her_. Ah, Charon, you little know your passenger! Independence, every +inch of him: he cares for no one. 'Tis Menippus. + +_Ch_. Wait till I catch you--- + +_Me_. Precisely; I'll wait--till you catch me again. + +F. + + + + +XXIII + +_Protesilaus. Pluto. Persephone_ + + +_Pro_. Lord, King, our Zeus! and thou, daughter of Demeter! Grant a +lover's boon! + +_Pl_. What do you want? who are you? + +_Pro_. Protesilaus, son of Iphiclus, of Phylace, one of the Achaean +host, the first that died at Troy. And the boon I ask is release and +one day's life. + +_Pl_. Ah, friend, that is the love that all these dead men love, and +none shall ever win. + +_Pro_. Nay, dread lord, 'tis not life I love, but the bride that I +left new wedded in my chamber that day I sailed away--ah me, to be +slain by Hector as my foot touched land! My lord, that yearning gives +me no peace. I return content, if she might look on me but for an +hour. + +_Pl_. Did you miss your dose of Lethe, man? + +_Pro_. Nay, lord; but this prevailed against it. + +_Pl_. Oh, well, wait a little; she will come to you one day; it is so +simple; no need for you to be going up. + +_Pro_. My heart is sick with hope deferred; thou too, O Pluto, hast +loved; thou knowest what love is. + +_Pl_. What good will it do you to come to life for a day, and then +renew your pains? + +_Pro_. I think to win her to come with me, and bring two dead for one. + +_Pl_. It may not be; it never has been. + +_Pro_. Bethink thee, Pluto. 'Twas for this same cause that ye gave +Orpheus his Eurydice; and Heracles had interest enough to be granted +Alcestis; she was of my kin. + +_Pl_. Would you like to present that bare ugly skull to your fair +bride? will she admit you, when she cannot tell you from another man? +I know well enough; she will be frightened and run from you, and you +will have gone all that way for nothing. + +_Per_. Husband, doctor that disease yourself: tell Hermes, as soon as +Protesilaus reaches the light, to touch him with his wand, and make +him young and fair as when he left the bridal chamber. + +_Pl_. Well, I cannot refuse a lady. Hermes, take him up and turn him +into a bridegroom. But mind, you sir, a strictly temporary one. + +H. + + + + +XXIV + +_Diogenes. Mausolus_ + + +_Diog_. Why so proud, Carian? How are you better than the rest of us? + +_Man_. Sinopean, to begin with, I was a king; king of all Caria, ruler +of many Lydians, subduer of islands, conqueror of well-nigh the whole +of Ionia, even to the borders of Miletus. Further, I was comely, and +of noble stature, and a mighty warrior. Finally, a vast tomb lies over +me in Halicarnassus, of such dimensions, of such exquisite beauty as +no other shade can boast. Thereon are the perfect semblances of man +and horse, carved in the fairest marble; scarcely may a temple be +found to match it. These are the grounds of my pride: are they +inadequate? + +_Diog_. Kingship--beauty--heavy tomb; is that it? + +_Mau_. It is as you say. + +_Diog_. But, my handsome Mausolus, the power and the beauty are no +longer there. If we were to appoint an umpire now on the question of +comeliness, I see no reason why he should prefer your skull to mine. +Both are bald, and bare of flesh; our teeth are equally in evidence; +each of us has lost his eyes, and each is snub-nosed. Then as to the +tomb and the costly marbles, I dare say such a fine erection gives the +Halicarnassians something to brag about and show off to strangers: but +I don't see, friend, that you are the better for it, unless it is that +you claim to carry more weight than the rest of us, with all that +marble on the top of you. + +_Mau_. Then all is to go for nothing? Mausolus and Diogenes are to +rank as equals? + +_Diog_. Equals! My dear sir, no; I don't say that. While Mausolus is +groaning over the memories of earth, and the felicity which he +supposed to be his, Diogenes will be chuckling. While Mausolus boasts +of the tomb raised to him by Artemisia, his wife and sister, Diogenes +knows not whether he has a tomb or no--the question never having +occurred to him; he knows only that his name is on the tongues of the +wise, as one who lived the life of a man; a higher monument than +yours, vile Carian slave, and set on firmer foundations. + +F. + + + + +XXV + +_Nireus. Thersites. Menippus_ + + +_Ni_. Here we are; Menippus shall award the palm of beauty. Menippus, +am I not better-looking than he? + +_Me_. Well, who are you? I must know that first, mustn't I? + +_Ni_. Nireus and Thersites. + +_Me_. Which is which? I cannot tell that yet. + +_Ther_. One to me; I am like you; you have no such superiority as +Homer (blind, by the way) gave you when he called you the handsomest +of men; he might peak my head and thin my hair, our judge finds me +none the worse. Now, Menippus, make up your mind which is handsomer. + +_Ni_. I, of course, I, the son of Aglaia and Charopus, + + Comeliest of all that came 'neath Trojan walls. + +_Me_. But not comeliest of all that come 'neath the earth, as far as I +know. Your bones are much like other people's; and the only difference +between your two skulls is that yours would not take much to stove it +in. It is a tender article, something short of masculine. + +_Ni_. Ask Homer what I was, when I sailed with the Achaeans. + +_Me_. Dreams, dreams. I am looking at what you are; what you were is +ancient history. + +_Ni_. Am I not handsomer here, Menippus? + +_Me_. You are not handsome at all, nor any one else either. Hades is a +democracy; one man is as good as another here. + +_Ther_. And a very tolerable arrangement too, if you ask me. + +H. + + + + +XXVI + +_Menippus. Chiron_ + + +_Me_. I have heard that you were a god, Chiron, and that you died of +your own choice? + +_Chi_. You were rightly informed. I am dead, as you see, and might +have been immortal. + +_Me_. And what should possess you, to be in love with Death? He has no +charm for most people. + +_Chi_. You are a sensible fellow; I will tell you. There was no +further satisfaction to be had from immortality. + +_Me_. Was it not a pleasure merely to live and see the light? + +_Chi_. No; it is variety, as I take it, and not monotony, that +constitutes pleasure. Living on and on, everything always the same; +sun, light, food, spring, summer, autumn, winter, one thing following +another in unending sequence,--I sickened of it all. I found that +enjoyment lay not in continual possession; that deprivation had its +share therein. + +_Me_. Very true, Chiron. And how have you got on since you made Hades +your home? + +_Chi_. Not unpleasantly. I like the truly republican equality that +prevails; and as to whether one is in light or darkness, that makes no +difference at all. Then again there is no hunger or thirst here; one +is independent of such things. + +_Me_. Take care, Chiron! You may be caught in the snare of your own +reasonings. + +_Chi_. How should that be? + +_Me_. Why, if the monotony of the other world brought on satiety, the +monotony here may do the same. You will have to look about for a +further change, and I fancy there is no third life procurable. + +_Chi_. Then what is to be done, Menippus? + +_Me_. Take things as you find them, I suppose, like a sensible fellow, +and make the best of everything. + +F. + + + + +XXVII + +_Diogenes. Antisthenes. Crates_ + + +_Diog_. Now, friends, we have plenty of time; what say you to a +stroll? we might go to the entrance and have a look at the new-comers +--what they are and how they behave. + +_Ant_. The very thing. It will be an amusing sight--some weeping, some +imploring to be let go, some resisting; when Hermes collars them, they +will stick their heels in and throw their weight back; and all to no +purpose. + +_Cra_. Very well; and meanwhile, let me give you my experiences on the +way down. + +_Diog_. Yes, go on, Crates; I dare say you saw some entertaining +sights. + +_Cra_. We were a large party, of which the most distinguished were +Ismenodorus, a rich townsman of ours, Arsaces, ruler of Media, and +Oroetes the Armenian. Ismenodorus had been murdered by robbers going +to Eleusis over Cithaeron, I believe. He was moaning, nursing his +wound, apostrophizing the young children he had left, and cursing his +foolhardiness. He knew Cithaeron and the Eleutherae district were all +devastated by the wars, and yet he must take only two servants with +him--with five bowls and four cups of solid gold in his baggage, too. +Arsaces was an old man of rather imposing aspect; he expressed his +feelings in true barbaric fashion, was exceedingly angry at being +expected to walk, and kept calling for his horse. In point of fact it +had died with him, it and he having been simultaneously transfixed by +a Thracian pikeman in the fight with the Cappadocians on the Araxes. +Arsaces described to us how he had charged far in advance of his men, +and the Thracian, standing his ground and sheltering himself with his +buckler, warded off the lance, and then, planting his pike, transfixed +man and horse together. + +_Ant_. How could it possibly be done simultaneously? + +_Cra_. Oh, quite simple. The Median was charging with his thirty-foot +lance in front of him; the Thracian knocked it aside with his buckler; +the point glanced by; then he knelt, received the charge on his pike, +pierced the horse's chest--the spirited beast impaling itself by its +own impetus--, and finally ran Arsaces through groin and buttock. You +see what happened; it was the horse's doing rather than the man's. +However, Arsaces did not at all appreciate equality, and wanted to +come down on horseback. As for Oroetes, he was so tender-footed that +he could not stand, far less walk. That is the way with all the Medes +--once they are off their horses, they go delicately on tiptoe as if +they were treading on thorns. He threw himself down, and there he lay; +nothing would induce him to get up; so the excellent Hermes had to +pick him up and carry him to the ferry; how I laughed! + +_Ant_. When _I_ came down, I did not keep with the crowd; I left them +to their blubberings, ran on to the ferry, and secured a comfortable +seat for the passage. Then as we crossed, they were divided between +tears and sea-sickness, and gave me a merry time of it. + +_Diog_. You two have described your fellow passengers; now for mine. +There came down with me Blepsias, the Pisatan usurer, Lampis, an +Acarnanian freelance, and the Corinthian millionaire Damis. The last +had been poisoned by his son, Lampis had cut his throat for love of +the courtesan Myrtium, and the wretched Blepsias is supposed to have +died of starvation; his awful pallor and extreme emaciation looked +like it. I inquired into the manner of their deaths, though I knew +very well. When Damis exclaimed upon his son, 'You only have your +deserts,' I remarked,--'an old man of ninety living in luxury yourself +with your million of money, and fobbing off your eighteen-year son +with a few pence! As for you, sir Acarnanian'--he was groaning and +cursing Myrtium--, 'why put the blame on Love? it belongs to yourself; +you were never afraid of an enemy--took all sorts of risks in other +people's service--and then let yourself be caught, my hero, by the +artificial tears and sighs of the first wench you came across.' +Blepsias uttered his own condemnation, without giving me time to do it +for him: he had hoarded his money for heirs who were nothing to him, +and been fool enough to reckon on immortality. I assure you it was no +common satisfaction I derived from their whinings. + +But here we are at the gate; we must keep our eyes open, and get the +earliest view. Lord, lord, what a mixed crowd! and all in tears except +these babes and sucklings. Why, the hoary seniors are all lamentation +too; strange! has madam Life given them a love-potion? I must +interrogate this most reverend senior of them all.--Sir, why weep, +seeing that you have died full of years? has your excellency any +complaint to make, after so long a term? Ah, but you were doubtless a +king. + +_Pauper_. Not so. + +_Diog_. A provincial governor, then? + +_Pauper_. No, nor that. + +_Diog_. I see; you were wealthy, and do not like leaving your +boundless luxury to die. + +_Pauper_. You are quite mistaken; I was near ninety, made a miserable +livelihood out of my line and rod, was excessively poor, childless, a +cripple, and had nearly lost my sight. + +_Diog_. And you still wished to live? + +_Pauper_. Ay, sweet is the light, and dread is death; would that one +might escape it! + +_Diog_. You are beside yourself, old man; you are like a child kicking +at the pricks, you contemporary of the ferryman. Well, we need wonder +no more at youth, when age is still in love with life; one would have +thought it should court death as the cure for its proper ills.--And +now let us go our way, before our loitering here brings suspicion on +us: they may think we are planning an escape. + +H. + + + + +XXVIII + +_Menippus. Tiresias_ + + +_Me_. Whether you are blind or not, Tiresias, would be a difficult +question. Eyeless sockets are the rule among us; there is no telling +Phineus from Lynceus nowadays. However, I know that you were a seer, +and that you enjoy the unique distinction of having been both man and +woman; I have it from the poets. Pray tell me which you found the more +pleasant life, the man's or the woman's? + +_Ti_. The woman's, by a long way; it was much less trouble. Women have +the mastery of men; and there is no fighting for them, no manning of +walls, no squabbling in the assembly, no cross-examination in the +law-courts. + +_Me_. Well, but you have heard how Medea, in Euripides, compassionates +her sex on their hard lot--on the intolerable pangs they endure in +travail? And by the way--Medea's words remind me did you ever have a +child, when you were a woman, or were you barren? + +_Ti_. What do you mean by that question, Menippus? + +_Me_. Oh, nothing; but I should like to know, if it is no trouble to +you. + +_Ti_. I was not barren: but I did not have a child, exactly. + +_Me_. No; but you might have had. That's all I wanted to know. + +_Ti_. Certainly. + +_Me_. And your feminine characteristics gradually vanished, and you +developed a beard, and became a man? Or did the change take place in a +moment? + +_Ti_. Whither does your question tend? One would think you doubted the +fact. + +_Me_. And what should I do but doubt such a story? Am I to take it in, +like a nincompoop, without asking myself whether it is possible or +not? + +_Ti_. At that rate, I suppose you are equally incredulous when you +hear of women being turned into birds or trees or beasts,--Aedon for +instance, or Daphne, or Callisto? + +_Me_. If I fall in with any of these ladies, I will see what they have +to say about it. But to return, friend, to your own case: were you a +prophet even in the days of your femininity? or did manhood and +prophecy come together? + +_Ti_. Pooh, you know nothing of the matter. I once settled a dispute +among the Gods, and was blinded by Hera for my pains; whereupon Zeus +consoled me with the gift of prophecy. + +_Me_. Ah, you love a lie still, Tiresias. But there, 'tis your trade. +You prophets! There is no truth in you. + +F. + + + + +XXIX + +_Agamemnon. Ajax_ + + +_Ag_. If you went mad and wrought your own destruction, Ajax, in +default of that you designed for us all, why put the blame on +Odysseus? Why would you not vouchsafe him a look or a word, when he +came to consult Tiresias that day? you stalked past your old comrade +in arms as if he was beneath your notice. + +_Aj_. Had I not good reason? My madness lies at the door of my +solitary rival for the arms. + +_Ag_. Did you expect to be unopposed, and carry it over us all without +a contest? + +_Aj_. Surely, in such a matter. The armour was mine by natural right, +seeing I was Achilles's cousin. The rest of you, his undoubted +superiors, refused to compete, recognizing my claim. It was the son of +Laertes, he that I had rescued scores of times when he would have been +cut to pieces by the Phrygians, who set up for a better man and a +stronger claimant than I. + +_Ag_. Blame Thetis, then, my good sir; it was she who, instead of +delivering the inheritance to the next of kin, brought the arms and +left the ownership an open question. + +_Aj_. No, no; the guilt was in claiming them--alone, I mean. + +_Ag_. Surely, Ajax, a mere man may be forgiven the sin of coveting +honour--that sweetest bait for which each one of us adventured; nay, +and he outdid you there, if a Trojan verdict counts. + +_Aj_. Who inspired that verdict [Footnote: Athene is meant. The +allusion is to Homer, _Od. xi. 547_, a passage upon the contest for +the arms of Achilles, in which Odysseus states that 'The judges were +the sons of the Trojans, and Pallas Athene.']? I know, but about the +Gods we may not speak. Let that pass; but cease to hate Odysseus? 'tis +not in my power, Agamemnon, though Athene's self should require it of +me. + +H. + + + + +XXX + +_Minos. Sostratus_ + + +_Mi_. Sostratus, the pirate here, can be dropped into Pyriphlegethon, +Hermes; the temple-robber shall be clawed by the Chimera; and lay out +the tyrant alongside of Tityus, there to have his liver torn by the +vultures. And you honest fellows can make the best of your way to +Elysium and the Isles of the Blest; this it is to lead righteous +lives. + +_Sos_. A word with you, Minos. See if there is not some justice in my +plea. + +_Mi_. What, more pleadings? Have you not been convicted of villany and +murder without end? + +_Sos_. I have. Yet consider whether my sentence is just. + +_Mi_. Is it just that you should have your deserts? If so, the +sentence is just. + +_Sos_. Well, answer my questions; I will not detain you long. + +_Mi_. Say on, but be brief; I have other cases waiting for me. + +_Sos_. The deeds of my life--were they in my own choice, or were they +decreed by Fate? + +_Mi_. Decreed, of course. + +_Sos_. Then all of us, whether we passed for honest men or rogues, +were the instruments of Fate in all that we did? + +_Mi_. Certainly; Clotho prescribes the conduct of every man at his +birth. + +_Sos_. Now suppose a man commits a murder under compulsion of a power +which he cannot resist, an executioner, for instance, at the bidding +of a judge, or a bodyguard at that of a tyrant. Who is the murderer, +according to you? + +_Mi_. The judge, of course, or the tyrant. As well ask whether the +sword is guilty, which is but the tool of his anger who is prime mover +in the affair. + +_Sos_. I am indebted to you for a further illustration of my argument. +Again: a slave, sent by his master, brings me gold or silver; to whom +am I to be grateful? who goes down on my tablets as a benefactor? + +_Mi_. The sender; the bringer is but his minister. + +_Sos_. Observe then your injustice! You punish us who are but the +slaves of Clotho's bidding, and reward these, who do but minister to +another's beneficence. For it will never be said that it was in our +power to gainsay the irresistible ordinances of Fate? + +_Mi_. Ah, Sostratus; look closely enough, and you will find plenty of +inconsistencies besides these. However, I see you are no common +pirate, but a philosopher in your way; so much you have gained by your +questions. Let him go, Hermes; he shall not be punished after that. +But mind, Sostratus, you must not put it into other people's heads to +ask questions of this kind. + +F. + + + + +MENIPPUS + +A NECROMANTIC EXPERIMENT + +_Menippus. Philonides_ + + +_Me_. All hail, my roof, my doors, my hearth and home! How sweet again +to see the light and thee! + +_Phi_. Menippus the cynic, surely; even so, or there are visions +about. Menippus, every inch of him. What has he been getting himself +up like that for? sailor's cap, lyre, and lion-skin? However, here +goes.--How are you, Menippus? where do _you_ spring from? You have +disappeared this long time. + +_Me_. Death's lurking-place I leave, and those dark gates Where Hades +dwells, a God apart from Gods. + +_Phi_. Good gracious! has Menippus died, all on the quiet, and come to +life for a second spell? + +_Me_. Not so; a _living_ guest in Hades I. + +_Phi_. But what induced you to take this queer original journey? + +_Me_. Youth drew me on--too bold, too little wise. + +_Phi_. My good man, truce to your heroics; get off those iambic +stilts, and tell me in plain prose what this get-up means; what did +you want with the lower regions? It is a journey that needs a motive +to make it attractive. + +_Me_. Dear friend, to Hades' realms I needs must go, To counsel with +Tiresias of Thebes. + +_Phi_. Man, you must be mad; or why string verses instead of talking +like one friend with another? + +_Me_. My dear fellow, you need not be so surprised. I have just been +in Euripides's and Homer's company; I suppose I am full to the throat +with verse, and the numbers come as soon as I open my mouth. But how +are things going up here? what is Athens about? + +_Phi_. Oh, nothing new; extortion, perjury, forty per cent, +face-grinding. + +_Me_. Poor misguided fools! they are not posted up in the latest +lower-world legislation; the recent decrees against the rich will be +too much for all their evasive ingenuity. + +_Phi_. Do you mean to say the lower world has been making new +regulations for us? + +_Me_. Plenty of them, I assure you. But I may not publish them, nor +reveal secrets; the result might be a suit for impiety in the court of +Rhadamanthus. + +_Phi_. Oh now, Menippus, in Heaven's name, no secrets between friends! +you know I am no blabber; and I am initiated, if you come to that. + +_Me_. 'Tis a hard thing you ask, and a perilous; yet for you I must +venture it. It was resolved, then, that these rich who roll in money +and keep their gold under lock and key like a Danae--- + +_Phi_. Oh, don't come to the decrees yet; begin at the beginning. I am +particularly curious about your object in going, who showed you the +way, and the whole story of what you saw and heard down there; you are +a man of taste, and sure not to have missed anything worth looking at +or listening to. + +_Me_. I can refuse you nothing, you see; what is one to do, when a +friend insists? Well, I will show you first the state of mind which +put me on the venture. When I was a boy, and listened to Homer's and +Hesiod's tales of war and civil strife--and they do not confine +themselves to the Heroes, but include the Gods in their descriptions, +adulterous Gods, rapacious Gods, violent, litigious, usurping, +incestuous Gods--, well, I found it all quite proper, and indeed was +intensely interested in it. But as I came to man's estate, I observed +that the laws flatly contradicted the poets, forbidding adultery, +sedition, and rapacity. So I was in a very hazy state of mind, and +could not tell what to make of it. The Gods would surely never have +been guilty of such behaviour if they had not considered it good; and +yet law-givers would never have recommended avoiding it, if avoidance +had not seemed desirable. + +In this perplexity, I determined to go to the people they call +philosophers, put myself in their hands, and ask them to make what +they would of me and give me a plain reliable map of life. This was my +idea in going to them; but the effort only shifted me from the +frying-pan into the fire; it was just among these that my inquiry +brought the greatest ignorance and bewilderment to light; they very +soon convinced me that the real golden life is that of the man in the +street. One of them would have me do nothing but seek pleasure and +ensue it; according to him, Happiness was pleasure. Another +recommended the exact contrary--toil and moil, bring the body under, +be filthy and squalid, disgusting and abusive--concluding always with +the tags from Hesiod about Virtue, or something about indefatigable +pursuit of the ideal. Another bade me despise money, and reckon the +acquisition of it as a thing indifferent; he too had his contrary, who +declared wealth a good in itself. I will spare you their metaphysics; +I was sickened with daily doses of Ideas, Incorporeal Things, Atoms, +Vacua, and a multitude more. The extraordinary thing was that people +maintaining the most opposite views would each of them produce +convincing plausible arguments; when the same thing was called hot and +cold by different persons, there was no refuting one more than the +other, however well one knew that it could not be hot and cold at +once. I was just like a man dropping off to sleep, with his head first +nodding forward, and then jerking back. + +Yet that absurdity is surpassed by another. I found by observation +that the practice of these same people was diametrically opposed to +their precepts. Those who preached contempt of wealth would hold on to +it like grim death, dispute about interest, teach for pay, and +sacrifice everything to the main chance, while the depreciators of +fame directed all their words and deeds to nothing else but fame; +pleasure, which had all their private devotions, they were almost +unanimous in condemning. + +Thus again disappointed of my hope, I was in yet worse case than +before; it was slight consolation to reflect that I was in numerous +and wise and eminently sensible company, if I was a fool still, all +astray in my quest of Truth. One night, while these thoughts kept me +sleepless, I resolved to go to Babylon and ask help from one of the +Magi, Zoroaster's disciples and successors; I had been told that by +incantations and other rites they could open the gates of Hades, take +down any one they chose in safety, and bring him up again. I thought +the best thing would be to secure the services of one of these, visit +Tiresias the Boeotian, and learn from that wise seer what is the best +life and the right choice for a man of sense. I got up with all speed +and started straight for Babylon. When I arrived, I found a wise and +wonderful Chaldean; he was white-haired, with a long imposing beard, +and called Mithrobarzanes. My prayers and supplications at last +induced him to name a price for conducting me down. + +Taking me under his charge, he commenced with a new moon, and brought +me down for twenty-nine successive mornings to the Euphrates, where he +bathed me, apostrophizing the rising sun in a long formula, of which I +never caught much; he gabbled indistinctly, like bad heralds at the +Games; but he appeared to be invoking spirits. This charm completed, +he spat thrice upon my face, and I went home, not letting my eyes meet +those of any one we passed. Our food was nuts and acorns, our drink +milk and hydromel and water from the Choaspes, and we slept out of +doors on the grass. When he thought me sufficiently prepared, he took +me at midnight to the Tigris, purified and rubbed me over, sanctified +me with torches and squills and other things, muttering the charm +aforesaid, then made a magic circle round me to protect me from +ghosts, and finally led me home backwards just as I was; it was now +time to arrange our voyage. + +He himself put on a magic robe, Median in character, and fetched and +gave me the cap, lion's skin, and lyre which you see, telling me if I +were asked my name not to say Menippus, but Heracles, Odysseus, or +Orpheus. + +_Phi_. What was that for? I see no reason either for the get-up or for +the choice of names. + +_Me_. Oh, obvious enough; there is no mystery in that. He thought that +as these three had gone down alive to Hades before us, I might easily +elude Aeacus's guard by borrowing their appearance, and be passed as +an _habitue_; there is good warrant in the theatre for the efficiency +of disguise. + +Dawn was approaching when we went down to the river to embark; he had +provided a boat, victims, hydromel, and all necessaries for our mystic +enterprise. We put all aboard, and then, + + Troubled at heart, with welling tears, we went. + +For some distance we floated down stream, until we entered the marshy +lake in which the Euphrates disappears. Beyond this we came to a +desolate, wooded, sunless spot; there we landed, Mithrobarzanes +leading the way, and proceeded to dig a pit, slay our sheep, and +sprinkle their blood round the edge. Meanwhile the Mage, with a +lighted torch in his hand, abandoning his customary whisper, shouted +at the top of his voice an invocation to all spirits, particularly the +Poenae and Erinyes, + + Hecat's dark might, and dread Persephone, + +with a string of other names, outlandish, unintelligible, and +polysyllabic. + +As he ended, there was a great commotion, earth was burst open by the +incantation, the barking of Cerberus was heard far off, and all was +overcast and lowering; + + Quaked in his dark abyss the King of Shades; + +for almost all was now unveiled to us, the lake, and Phlegethon, and +the abode of Pluto. Undeterred, we made our way down the chasm, and +came upon Rhadamanthus half dead with fear. Cerberus barked and looked +like getting up; but I quickly touched my lyre, and the first note +sufficed to lull him. Reaching the lake, we nearly missed our passage +for that time, the ferry-boat being already full; there was incessant +lamentation, and all the passengers had wounds upon them; mangled +legs, mangled heads, mangled everything; no doubt there was a war +going on. Nevertheless, when good Charon saw the lion's skin, taking +me for Heracles, he made room, was delighted to give me a passage, and +showed us our direction when we got off. + +We were now in darkness; so Mithrobarzanes led the way, and I followed +holding on to him, until we reached a great meadow of asphodel, where +the shades of the dead, with their thin voices, came flitting round +us. Working gradually on, we reached the court of Minos; he was +sitting on a high throne, with the Poenae, Avengers, and Erinyes +standing at the sides. From another direction was being brought a long +row of persons chained together; I heard that they were adulterers, +procurers, publicans, sycophants, informers, and all the filth that +pollutes the stream of life. Separate from them came the rich and +usurers, pale, pot-bellied, and gouty, each with a hundredweight of +spiked collar upon him. There we stood looking at the proceedings and +listening to the pleas they put in; their accusers were orators of a +strange and novel species. _Phi_. Who, in God's name? shrink not; +let me know all. + +_Me_. It has not escaped your observation that the sun projects +certain shadows of our bodies on the ground. + +_Phi_. How should it have? + +_Me_. These, when we die, are the prosecutors and witnesses who bring +home to us our conduct on earth; their constant attendance and +absolute attachment to our persons secures them high credit in the +witness-box. + +Well, Minos carefully examined each prisoner, and sent him off to the +place of the wicked to receive punishment proportionate to his +transgressions. He was especially severe upon those who, puffed up +with wealth and authority, were expecting an almost reverential +treatment; he could not away with their ephemeral presumption and +superciliousness, their failure to realize the mortality of themselves +and their fortunes. Stripped of all that made them glorious, of wealth +and birth and power, there they stood naked and downcast, +reconstructing their worldly blessedness in their minds like a dream +that is gone; the spectacle was meat and drink to me; any that I knew +by sight I would come quietly up to, and remind him of his state up +here; what a spirit had his been, when morning crowds lined his hall, +expectant of his coming, being jostled or thrust out by lacqueys! at +last my lord Sun would dawn upon them, in purple or gold or rainbow +hues, not unconscious of the bliss he shed upon those who approached, +if he let them kiss his breast or his hand. These reminders seemed to +annoy them. + +Minos, however, did allow his decision to be influenced in one case. +Dionysius of Syracuse was accused by Dion of many unholy deeds, and +damning evidence was produced by his shadow; he was on the point of +being chained to the Chimera, when Aristippus of Cyrene, whose name +and influence are great below, got him off on the ground of his +constant generosity as a patron of literature. + +We left the court at last, and came to the place of punishment. Many a +piteous sight and sound was there--cracking of whips, shrieks of the +burning, rack and gibbet and wheel; Chimera tearing, Cerberus +devouring; all tortured together, kings and slaves, governors and +paupers, rich and beggars, and all repenting their sins. A few of +them, the lately dead, we recognized. These would turn away and shrink +from observation; or if they met our eyes, it would be with a slavish +cringing glance--how different from the arrogance and contempt that +had marked them in life! The poor were allowed half-time in their +tortures, respite and punishment alternating. Those with whom legend +is so busy I saw with my eyes--Ixion, Sisyphus, the Phrygian Tantalus +in all his misery, and the giant Tityus--how vast, his bulk covering +a whole field! + +Leaving these, we entered the Acherusian plain, and there found the +demi-gods, men and women both, and the common dead, dwelling in their +nations and tribes, some of them ancient and mouldering, 'strengthless +heads,' as Homer has it, others fresh, with substance yet in them, +Egyptians chiefly, these--so long last their embalming drugs. But to +know one from another was no easy task; all are so like when the bones +are bared; yet with pains and long scrutiny we could make them out. +They lay pell-mell in undistinguished heaps, with none of their +earthly beauties left. With all those anatomies piled together as like +as could be, eyes glaring ghastly and vacant, teeth gleaming bare, I +knew not how to tell Thersites from Nireus the beauty, beggar Irus +from the Phaeacian king, or cook Pyrrhias from Agamemnon's self. Their +ancient marks were gone, and their bones alike--uncertain, unlabelled, +indistinguishable. + +When I saw all this, the life of man came before me under the likeness +of a great pageant, arranged and marshalled by Chance, who distributed +infinitely varied costumes to the performers. She would take one and +array him like a king, with tiara, bodyguard, and crown complete; +another she dressed like a slave; one was adorned with beauty, another +got up as a ridiculous hunchback; there must be all kinds in the show. +Often before the procession was over she made individuals exchange +characters; they could not be allowed to keep the same to the end; +Croesus must double parts and appear as slave and captive; Maeandrius, +starting as slave, would take over Polycrates's despotism, and be +allowed to keep his new clothes for a little while. And when the +procession is done, every one disrobes, gives up his character with +his body, and appears, as he originally was, just like his neighbour. +Some, when Chance comes round collecting the properties, are silly +enough to sulk and protest, as though they were being robbed of their +own instead of only returning loans. You know the kind of thing on the +stage--tragic actors shifting as the play requires from Creon to +Priam, from Priam to Agamemnon; the same man, very likely, whom you +saw just now in all the majesty of Cecrops or Erechtheus, treads the +boards next as a slave, because the author tells him to. The play +over, each of them throws off his gold-spangled robe and his mask, +descends from the buskin's height, and moves a mean ordinary creature; +his name is not now Agamemnon son of Atreus or Creon son of Menoeceus, +but Polus son of Charicles of Sunium or Satyrus son of Theogiton of +Marathon. Such is the condition of mankind, or so that sight presented +it to me. + +_Phi_. Now, if a man occupies a costly towering sepulchre, or leaves +monuments, statues, inscriptions behind him on earth, does not this +place him in a class above the common dead? + +_Me_. Nonsense, my good man; if you had looked on Mausolus himself-- +the Carian so famous for his tomb--, I assure you, you would never +have stopped laughing; he was a miserable unconsidered unit among the +general mass of the dead, flung aside in a dusty hole, with no profit +of his sepulchre but its extra weight upon him. No, friend, when +Aeacus gives a man his allowance of space--and it never exceeds a +foot's breadth--, he must be content to pack himself into its limits. +You might have laughed still more if you had beheld the kings and +governors of earth begging in Hades, selling salt fish for a living, +it might be, or giving elementary lessons, insulted by any one who met +them, and cuffed like the most worthless of slaves. When I saw Philip +of Macedon, I could not contain myself; some one showed him to me +cobbling old shoes for money in a corner. Many others were to be seen +begging--people like Xerxes, Darius, or Polycrates. + +_Phi_. These royal downfalls are extraordinary almost incredible. But +what of Socrates, Diogenes, and such wise men? + +_Me_. Socrates still goes about proving everybody wrong, the same as +ever; Palamedes, Odysseus, Nestor, and a few other conversational +shades, keep him company. His legs, by the way, were still puffy and +swollen from the poison. Good Diogenes pitches close to Sardanapalus, +Midas, and other specimens of magnificence. The sound of their +lamentations and better-day memories keeps him in laughter and +spirits; he is generally stretched on his back roaring out a noisy +song which drowns lamentation; it annoys them, and they are looking +out for a new pitch where he may not molest them. + +_Phi_. I am satisfied. And now for that decree which you told me had +been passed against the rich. + +_Me_. Well remembered; that was what I meant to tell you about, but I +have somehow got far astray. Well, during my stay the presiding +officers gave notice of an assembly on matters of general interest. +So, when I saw every one flocking to it, I mingled with the shades and +constituted myself a member. Various measures were decided upon, and +last came this question of the rich. Many grave accusations were +preferred against them, including violence, ostentation, pride, +injustice; and at last a popular speaker rose and moved this decree. + + + + +DECREE + + +'Whereas the rich are guilty of many illegalities on earth, harrying +and oppressing the poor and trampling upon all their rights, it is the +pleasure of the Senate and People that after death they shall be +punished in their bodies like other malefactors, but their souls shall +be sent on earth to inhabit asses, until they have passed in that +shape a quarter-million of years, generation after generation, bearing +burdens under the tender mercies of the poor; after which they shall +be permitted to die. Mover of this decree--Cranion son of Skeletion of +the deme Necysia in the Alibantid [Footnote: The four names are formed +from words meaning skull, skeleton, corpse, anatomy.] tribe.' The +decree read, a formal vote was taken, in which the people accepted it. +A snort from Brimo and a bark from Cerberus completed the proceedings +according to the regular form. + +So went the assembly. And now, in pursuance of my original design, I +went to Tiresias, explained my case fully, and implored him to give me +his views upon the best life. He is a blind little old man, pale and +weak-voiced. He smiled and said:--'My son, the cause of your +perplexity, I know, is the fact that doctors differ; but I may not +enlighten you; Rhadamanthus forbids.' 'Ah, say not so, father,' I +exclaimed; 'speak out, and leave me not to wander through life in a +blindness worse than yours.' So he drew me apart to a considerable +distance, and whispered in my ear:--'The life of the ordinary man is +the best and most prudent choice; cease from the folly of metaphysical +speculation and inquiry into origins and ends, utterly reject their +clever logic, count all these things idle talk, and pursue one end +alone--how you may do what your hand finds to do, and go your way with +ever a smile and never a passion.' + +So he, and sought the lawn of asphodel. + +It was now late, and I told Mithrobarzanes that our work was done, and +we might reascend. 'Very well, Menippus,' said he, 'I will show you an +easy short cut.' And taking me to a place where the darkness was +especially thick, he pointed to a dim and distant ray of light--a mere +pencil admitted through a chink. 'There,' he said, 'is the shrine of +Trophonius, from which the Boeotian inquirers start; go up that way, +and you will be on Grecian soil without more ado.' I was delighted, +took my leave of the Mage, crawled with considerable difficulty +through the aperture, and found myself, sure enough, at Lebadea. + +H. + + + + +CHARON + +_Hermes. Charon_ + + +_Her_. So gay, Charon? What makes you leave your ferry to come up +here? You are quite a stranger in the upper world. + +_Ch_. I thought I should like to see what life is like; what men do +with it, and what are these blessings of which they all lament the +loss when they come down to us. Never one of them has made the passage +dry-eyed. So I got leave from Pluto to take a day off, like that +Thessalian lad [Footnote: See Protesilaus in Notes.], you know; and +here I am, in the light of day. I am in luck, it seems, to fall in +with you. You will show me round, of course, and point out all that is +to be seen, as you know all about it. + +_Her_. I have no time, good ferryman. I am bound on certain errands of +the Upper Zeus, certain human matters. He is short-tempered: any +loitering on my part, and he may hand me over to you Powers of +Darkness for good and all; or treat me as he did Hephaestus the other +day--hurl me down headlong from the threshold of Heaven; there would +be a pair of lame cupbearers then, to amuse the gods. + +_Ch_. And you would leave an old messmate wandering at large on the +face of the earth? Think of the cruises we have sailed together, the +cargoes you and I have handled! You might remember one thing, son of +Maia; I have never set you down to bale or row. You lie sprawling +about the deck, you great strong lubber, snoring away, or chatting the +whole trip through with any communicative shade you can find; and the +old man plies both oars at once. Come, stand by me, like a true son of +Zeus as you are, and show me all the ins and outs, there's a dear lad. +I want to see something of life before I go back, and if you leave me +in the lurch, I shall be no better off than a blind man: _he_ comes to +grief because he is always in the dark, and, contrariwise, _I_ can +make nothing of it in the light. Do me this good turn, and I'll not +forget it. + +_Her_. Clearly this is to be a flogging matter for me. There will go +some shrewd knocks to the settlement of this reckoning. However, I +must give you a helping hand. What is one to do, when a friend is so +pressing? Now, as to going over everything thoroughly, it is out of +the question; it would take us years. Meanwhile, I should have the +hue-and-cry out after me, you would be neglecting your ghostly work, +Pluto would lose the shades that you ought to be shipping over all +that time, and Aeacus would never take a single toll, and would be +proportionately furious. We have only to think, therefore, of +contriving you a general view of what is going on. + +_Ch_. You must do the best you can for me. I know nothing of the +matter, being a stranger up here. + +_Her_. The main thing is to get an elevation from which you may see in +every direction. If you could come up to Heaven, we should be saved +any further trouble; you would then have a good bird's-eye view of +everything. But it would be sacrilege for one so conversant with +phantoms to set foot in the courts of Zeus. Let us lose no time, +therefore, in looking out a good high mountain. + +_Ch_. You know what I sometimes say to you on the ship, Hermes.--If a +sudden gust strikes the sail from a new quarter, and the waves are +rising high, you landsmen know not what to make of it; you are for +taking in sail, or slackening the sheet, or letting her go before the +wind, and then I tell you not to trouble your heads, for _I_ know what +to do. Well, now it is your turn; you are sailing this ship; do as you +think best, and I'll sit quiet, as a passenger should, and obey +orders. + +_Her_. Just so; leave it to me, and I will find a good look-out. How +would Caucasus do? Or is Parnassus higher? Olympus, perhaps, is higher +than either of them. Olympus! stay, that reminds me; I have a happy +thought. But there is work for two here; I shall want your assistance. + +_Ch_. Give your orders, I'll bear a hand, to the best of my ability. + +_Her_. Homer tells us how the sons of Aloeus [Footnote: See _Olus_ in +Notes.] (they were but two, like ourselves) took it into their heads, +when they were yet children, to drag up Ossa from its foundations, and +plant it on the top of Olympus, and then Pelion on the top of all; +they thought that would serve as a ladder for getting into heaven. The +two boys were rightly punished for their presumption. But _we_ have no +design against the Gods: why should not we take the hint, and make an +erection of mountains piled one on the top of another? From such a +height we should get a better view. + +_Ch_. What, shall we two be able to lift Pelion or Ossa? + +_Her_. Why not? We are gods; I should hope we are as good as those two +infants. + +_Ch_. Yes; but I should never have thought we could do such a job as +that. + +_Her_. Ah, my dear Charon, you don't understand these things; you have +no imagination. To the lofty spirit of Homer this is simplicity +itself. Just a couple of lines, and the mountains are in place;--we +have only to walk up. I wonder you make such a marvel of this. You +know Atlas, of course? He holds up the entire heaven by himself, Gods +and all. And I dare say you have heard how my brother Heracles +relieved him once, and took the burden on his own shoulders for a +time? + +_Ch_. Yes, I have heard it. But you and the poets best know whether it +is true. + +_Her_. Oh, perfectly true. What should induce wise men to lie?--Come, +let us get to work on Ossa first; for so the masterbuilder directs: + + Ossa first; + On Ossa leafy Pelion. + +There! What think you of this? Is it suave work? is it poetry? I must +run up, and see whether we shall want another storey. Oh dear, we are +no way up as yet. On the East, it is all I can do to make out Ionia +and Lydia; on the West is nothing but Italy and Sicily; on the North, +nothing to be seen beyond the Danube; and on the South, Crete, none +too clear. It looks to me as if we should want Oeta, my nautical +friend; and Parnassus into the bargain. + +_Ch_. So be it; but take care not to make the height too great for the +width; or down we shall come, ladder and all, and pay our footing in +the Homeric school of architecture with a cracked crown apiece. + +_Her_. No fear; all will be safe enough. Pass Oeta along. Now trundle +Parnassus up. There; I'll go up again.... That's better! A fine view. +You can come now. + +_Ch_. Give me a hand up, Hermes. This _is_ an erection, and no +mistake! + +_Her_. Well, you know, you would see everything. Safety is one thing, +my friend, and sight-seeing is another. Here is my hand; hang on, and +keep clear of the slippery bits. There, now _you_ are up. Let us sit +down; here are two peaks, one for each of us. Now take a general look +round at the prospect. + +_Ch_. I see a vast stretch of land, and a huge lake surrounding it, +and mountains, and rivers bigger than Cocytus and Pyriphlegethon; and +men, tiny little things! and I suppose their dens. + +_Her. Dens_? Those are cities! + +_Ch_. I tell you what it is, Hermes; all this is no use. Here have we +been shifting about Parnassus (Castalia and all complete), and Oeta, +and these others, and we might have spared ourselves the trouble! + +_Her_. How so? + +_Ch_. Why, I can make nothing out up here. These cities and mountains +look for all the world like a map. It is _men_ that I am after; I want +to see what they do, and hear what they say. That is what I was +laughing about just now, when first you met me, and asked me what the +joke was. I had heard something that tickled me hugely. + +_Her_. And what might that be? + +_Ch_. One of them had been asked by a friend to dinner, I think it +was, the next day. 'Depend on it,' says he, 'I'll be with you.' And +before the words were out of his mouth, down came a tile--started +somehow from the roof--and he was a dead man! Ha, ha, thought I, +_that_ promise will never be kept. So I think I shall go down again; I +want to see and hear. + +_Her_. Sit where you are. I will soon put that right; you shall see +with the best; Homer has a charm for this too. Now, the moment I say +the lines, there must be no more dull eyes; all must be clear as +daylight. Don't forget! + +_Ch_. Say on. + +_Her_. + + See, from before thine eyes I lift the veil; + So shalt thou clearly know both God and man. + +Well? Are the eyes any better? + +_Ch_. A marvellous improvement! Lynceus is blind to me. Now, the next +thing I want is information. I have some questions to ask. Will you +have them couched in the Homeric style, to convince you that I am not +wholly unversed in his poems? + +_Her_. And how should you know anything of Homer? A seaman, chained to +the oar! + +_Ch_. Come, come; no abuse of my profession. The fact is, when he +died, and I ferried him over, I heard a good many of his ballads, and +a few of them still run in my head. There was a pretty stiff gale on +at the time, too. You see, he began singing a song about Posidon, +which boded no good to us mariners,--how Posidon gathered the clouds, +and stirred the depths with his trident, as with a ladle, and roused +the whirlwind, and a good deal more (enough to raise a storm of +itself),--when suddenly there came a black squall which nearly +capsized the boat. The poet was extremely ill, and disgorged such an +avalanche of minstrelsy (Scylla, Charybdis, the Cyclops, all came up +bodily), that I had no difficulty in preserving a few snatches. I +should like to know, for instance, + + Who is yon hero, stout and strong and tall, + O'ertopping all mankind by head and shoulders? + +_Her_. That is Milo of Croton, the athlete. He has just picked up a +bull, and is carrying it along the race-course; and the Greeks are +applauding him. + +_Ch_. It would be more to the point, if they were to offer their +congratulations to _me_. I shall presently be picking up Milo himself, +and putting him into my boat; that will be after he has had his fall +from Death, that most invincible of antagonists, who will have him on +his back before he knows what is happening. We shall hear a sad tale +then, no doubt, of the crowns and the applause he has left behind him. +Meanwhile, he is mightily elated over the bull exploit, and the +distinction it has won him. What is one to think? Does it ever occur +to him that he must _die_ some day? + +_Her_. How should he think of death? He is at his zenith. + +_Ch_. Well, never mind him. We shall have sport enough with him before +long; he will come aboard with no strength left to pick up a gnat, let +alone a bull. But pray, + + Who is yon haughty hero? + No Greek, to judge by his dress. + +_Her_. That is Cyrus, son of Cambyses, who transferred to the Persians +the ancient empire of the Medes. He has lately conquered Assyria, and +reduced Babylon; and now it looks as if he meditated an invasion of +Lydia, to complete his dominion by the overthrow of Croesus. + +_Ch_. And whereabouts is Croesus? + +_Her_. Look over there. You see the great city with the triple wall? +That is Sardis. And there, look, is Croesus himself, reclining on a +golden couch, and conversing with Solon the Athenian. Shall we listen +to what they are saying? + +_Ch_. Yes, let us. + +_Cr. Stranger, you have now seen my stores of treasure, my heaps of +bullion, and all my riches. Tell me therefore, whom do you account the +happiest of mankind_? + +_Ch_. What will Solon say, I wonder? + +_Her_. Trust Solon; he will not disgrace himself. + +_So_. _Croesus, few men are happy. Of those whom I know, the happiest, +I think, were Cleobis and Biton, the sons of the Argive priestess_. + +_Ch_. Ah, he means those two who yoked themselves to a waggon, and +drew their mother to the temple, and died the moment after. It was but +the other day. + +_Cr_. _Ah. So they are first on the list. And who comes next_? + +_So_. _Tellus the Athenian, who lived a righteous life, and died for +his country_. + +_Cr_. _And where do I come, reptile_? + +_So_. _That I am unable to say at present, Croesus; I must see you end +your days first. Death is the sure test;--a happy end to a life of +happiness_. + +_Ch_. Bravo, Solon; _you_ have not forgotten us! As you say, Charon's +ferry is the proper place for the decision of these questions.--But +who are these men whom Croesus is sending out? And what have they got +on their shoulders? + +_Her_. Those are bars of gold; they are going to Delphi, to pay for an +oracle, which oracle will presently be the ruin of Croesus. But +oracles are a hobby of his. + +_Ch_. Oh, so that is _gold_, that glittering yellow stuff, with just a +tinge of red in it. I have often heard of gold, but never saw it +before. + +_Her_. Yes, that is the stuff there is so much talking and squabbling +about. + +_Ch_. Well now, I see no advantages about it, unless it is an +advantage that it is heavy to carry. + +_Her_. Ah, you do not know what it has to answer for; the wars and +plots and robberies, the perjuries and murders; for this men will +endure slavery and imprisonment; for this they traffic and sail the +seas. + +_Ch_. For this stuff? Why, it is not much different from copper. I +know copper, of course, because I get a penny from each passenger. + +_Her_. Yes, but copper is plentiful, and therefore not much esteemed +by men. Gold is found only in small quantities, and the miners have to +go to a considerable depth for it. For the rest, it comes out of the +earth, just the same as lead and other metals. + +_Ch_. What fools men must be, to be enamoured of an object of this +sallow complexion; and of such a weight! + +_Her_. Well, Solon, at any rate, seems to have no great affection for +it. See, he is making merry with Croesus and his outlandish +magnificence. I think he is going to ask him a question. Listen. + +_So_. Croesus, will those bars be any use to Apollo, do you think? + +_Cr_. Any use! Why there is nothing at Delphi to be compared to them. + +_So_. And that is all that is wanting to complete his happiness, eh?-- +some bar gold? + +_Cr_. Undoubtedly. + +_So_. Then they must be very hard up in Heaven, if they have to send +all the way to Lydia for their gold supply? + +_Cr_. Where else is gold to be had in such abundance as with us? + +_So_. Now is any iron found in Lydia? + +_Cr_. Not much. + +_So_. Ah; so you are lacking in the more valuable metal. + +_Cr_. More valuable? Iron more valuable than gold? + +_So_. Bear with me, while I ask you a few questions, and I will +convince you it is so. + +_Cr_. Well? + +_So_. Of protector and protege, which is the better man? + +_Cr_. The protector, of course. + +_So_. Now in the event of Cyrus's invading Lydia--there is some talk +of it--shall you supply your men with golden swords? or will iron be +required, on the occasion? + +_Cr_. Oh, iron. + +_So_. Iron accordingly you must have, or your gold would be led +captive into Persia? + +_Cr_. Blasphemer! + +_So_. Oh, we will hope for the best. But it is clear, on your own +admission, that iron is better than gold. + +_Cr_. And what would you have me do? Recall the gold, and offer the +God bars of iron? + +_So_. He has no occasion for iron either. Your offering (be the metal +what it may) will fall into other hands than his. It will be snapped +up by the Phocians, or the Boeotians, or the God's own priests; or by +some tyrant or robber. Your goldsmiths have no interest for Apollo. + +_Cr_. You are always having a stab at my wealth. It is all envy! + +_Her_. This blunt sincerity is not to the Lydian's taste. Things are +come to a strange pass, he thinks, if a poor man is to hold up his +head, and speak his mind in this frank manner! He will remember Solon +presently, when the time comes for Cyrus to conduct him in chains to +the pyre. I heard Clotho, the other day, reading over the various +dooms. Among other things, Croesus was to be led captive by Cyrus, and +Cyrus to be murdered by the queen of the Massagetae. There she is: +that Scythian woman, riding on a white horse; do you see? + +_Ch_. Yes. + +_Her_. That is Tomyris. She will cut off Cyrus's head, and put it into +a wine-skin filled with blood. And do you see his son, the boy there? +That is Cambyses. He will succeed to his father's throne; and, after +innumerable defeats in Libya and Ethiopia, will finally slay the god +Apis, and die a raving madman. + +_Ch_. What fun! Why, at this moment no one would presume to meet their +eyes; from such a height do they look down on the rest of mankind. Who +would believe that before long one of them will be a captive, and the +other have his head in a bottle of blood?--But who is that in the +purple robe, Hermes?--the one with the diadem? His cook has just been +cleaning a fish, and is now handing him a ring,--"in yonder sea-girt +isle"; "'tis, sure, some king." + +_Her_.Ha, ha! A parody, this time.--That is Polycrates, tyrant of +Samos. He is extremely well pleased with his lot: yet that slave who +now stands at his side will betray him to the satrap Oroetes, and he +will be crucified. It will not take long to overturn _his_ +prosperity, poor man! This, too, I had from Clotho. + +_Ch_. I like Clotho; she is a lady of spirit. Have at them, madam! Off +with their heads! To the cross with them! Let them know that they are +men. And let them be exalted in the meantime; the higher they mount, +the heavier will be the fall. I shall have a merry time of it +hereafter, identifying their naked shades, as they come aboard; no +more purple robes then; no tiaras; no golden couches! + +_Her_. So much for royalty; and now to the common herd. Do you see +them, Charon;--on their ships and on the field of battle; crowding the +law-courts and following the plough; usurers here, beggars there? + +_Ch_. I see them. What a jostling life it is! What a world of ups and +downs! Their cities remind me of bee-hives. Every man keeps a sting +for his neighbour's service; and a few, like wasps, make spoil of +their weaker brethren. But what are all these misty shapes that beset +them on every side? + +_Her_. Hopes, Fears, Follies, Pleasures, Greeds, Hates, Grudges, and +such like. They differ in their habits. The Folly is a domestic +creature, with vested rights of its own. The same with the Grudge, the +Hate, the Envy, the Greed, the Know-not, and the What's-to-do. But the +Fear and the Hope fly overhead. The Fear swoops on its prey from +above; sometimes it is content with startling a man out of his wits, +sometimes it frightens him in real earnest. The Hope hovers almost +within reach, and just when a man thinks he is going to catch it, off +it flies, and leaves him gaping--like Tantalus in the water, you know. +Now look closely, and you will make out the Fates up aloft, spinning +each man his spindle-full; from that spindle a man hangs by a narrow +thread. Do you see what looks like a cobweb, coming down to each man +from the spindles? + +_Ch_. I see each has a very slight thread. They are mostly entangled, +one with another, and that other with a third. + +_Her_. Of course they are. Because the first man has got to be +murdered by the second, and he by the third; or again, B is to be A's +heir (A's thread being the shorter), and C is to be B's. That is what +the entangling means. But you see what thin threads they all have to +depend on. Now here is one drawn high up into the air; presently his +thread will snap, when the weight becomes too much for it, and down he +will come with a bang: whereas yonder fellow hangs so low that when he +does fall it makes no noise; his next-door neighbours will scarcely +hear him drop. + +_Ch_. How absurd it all is! + +_Her_. My dear Charon, there is no word for the absurdity of it. They +do take it all so seriously, that is the best of it; and then, long +before they have finished scheming, up comes good old Death, and +whisks them off, and all is over! You observe that he has a fine staff +of assistants at his command;--agues, consumptions, fevers, +inflammations, swords, robbers, hemlock, juries, tyrants,--not one of +which gives them a moment's concern so long as they are prosperous; +but when they come to grief, then it is Alack! and Well-a-day! and Oh +dear me! If only they would start with a clear understanding that they +are mortal, that after a brief sojourn on the earth they will wake +from the dream of life, and leave all behind them,--they would live +more sensibly, and not mind dying so much. As it is, they get it into +their heads that what they possess they possess for good and all; the +consequence is, that when Death's officer calls for them, and claps on +a fever or a consumption, they take it amiss; the parting is so wholly +unexpected. Yonder is a man building his house, urging the workmen to +use all dispatch. How would he take the news, that he was just to see +the roof on and all complete, when he would have to take his +departure, and leave all the enjoyment to his heir?--hard fate, not +once to sup beneath it! There again is one rejoicing over the birth of +a son; the child is to inherit his grandfather's name, and the father +is celebrating the occasion with his friends. He would not be so +pleased, if he knew that the boy was to die before he was eight years +old! It is natural enough: he sees before him some happy father of an +Olympian victor, and has no eyes for his neighbour there, who is +burying a child; _that_ thin-spun thread escapes his notice. Behold, +too, the money-grubbers, whom the aforesaid Death's-officers will +never permit to be money-spenders; and the noble army of litigant +neighbours! + +_Ch_. Yes! I see it all; and I ask myself, what is the satisfaction in +life? What is it that men bewail the loss of? Take their kings; they +seem to be best off, though, as you say, they have their happiness on +a precarious tenure; but apart from that, we shall find their +pleasures to be outweighed by the vexations inseparable from their +position--worry and anxiety, flattery here, conspiracy there, enmity +everywhere; to say nothing of the tyranny of Sorrow, Disease, and +Passion, with whom there is confessedly no respect of persons. And if +the king's lot is a hard one, we may make a pretty shrewd guess at +that of the commoner. Come now, I will give you a similitude for the +life of man. Have you ever stood at the foot of a waterfall, and +marked the bubbles rising to the surface and gathering into foam? Some +are quite small, and break as soon as they are born. Others last +longer; new ones come to join them, and they swell up to a great size: +yet in the end they burst, as surely as the rest; it cannot be +otherwise. There you have human life. All men are bubbles, great or +small, inflated with the breath of life. Some are destined to last for +a brief space, others perish in the very moment of birth: but all must +inevitably burst. + +_Her_. Homer compares mankind to leaves. Your simile is full as good +as his. + +_Ch_. And being the things they are, they do--the things you see; +squabbling among themselves, and contending for dominion and power and +riches, all of which they will have to leave behind them, when they +come down to us with their penny apiece. Now that we are up here, how +would it be for me to cry out to them at the top of my voice, to +abstain from their vain endeavours, and live with the prospect of +Death before their eyes? 'Fools' (I might say), 'why so much in +earnest? Rest from your toils. You will not live for ever. Nothing of +the pomp of this world will endure; nor can any man take anything +hence when he dies. He will go naked out of the world, and his house +and his lands and his gold will be another's, and ever another's.' If +I were to call out something of this sort, loud enough for them to +hear, would it not do some good? Would not the world be the better for +it? + +_Her_. Ah, my poor friend, you know not what you say. Ignorance and +deceit have done for them what Odysseus did for his crew when he was +afraid of the Sirens; they have waxed men's ears up so effectually, +that no drill would ever open them. How then should they hear you? You +might shout till your lungs gave way. Ignorance is as potent here as +the waters of Lethe are with you. There are a few, to be sure, who +from a regard for Truth have refused the wax process; men whose eyes +are open to discern good and evil. + +_Ch_. Well then, we might call out to _them_? + +_Her_. There again: where would be the use of telling them what they +know already? See, they stand aloof from the rest of mankind, and +scoff at all that goes on; nothing is as they would have it. Nay, they +are evidently bent on giving life the slip, and joining you. Their +condemnations of folly make them unpopular here. + +_Ch_. Well done, my brave boys! There are not many of them, though, +Hermes. + +_Her_. These must serve. And now let us go down. + +_Ch_. There is still one thing I had a fancy to see. Show me the +receptacles into which they put the corpses, and your office will have +been discharged. + +_Her_. Ah, _sepulchres_, those are called, or _tombs_, or _graves_. +Well, do you see those mounds, and columns, and pyramids, outside the +various city walls? Those are the store-chambers of the dead. + +_Ch_. Why, they are putting flowers on the stones, and pouring costly +essences upon them. And in front of some of the mounds they have piled +up faggots, and dug trenches. Look: there is a splendid banquet laid +out, and they are burning it all; and pouring wine and mead, I suppose +it is, into the trenches! What does it all mean? + +_Her_. What satisfaction it affords to their friends in Hades, I am +unable to say. But the idea is, that the shades come up, and get as +close as they can, and feed upon the savoury steam of the meat, and +drink the mead in the trench. + +_Ch_. Eat and drink, when their skulls are dry bone? But I am wasting +my breath: you bring them down every day;--_you_ can say whether they +are likely ever to get up again, once they are safely underground! +That would be too much of a good thing! You would have your work cut +out for you and no mistake, if you had not only to bring them down, +but also to take them up again when they wanted a drink. Oh, fools and +blockheads! You little know how we arrange matters, or what a gulf is +set betwixt the living and the dead! + + The buried and unburied, both are Death's. + He ranks alike the beggar and the king; + Thersites sits by fair-haired Thetis' son. + Naked and withered roam the fleeting shades + Together through the fields of asphodel. + +_Her_. Bless me, what a deluge of Homer! And now I think of it, I must +show you Achilles's tomb. There it is on the Trojan shore, at Sigeum. +And across the water is Rhoeteum, where Ajax lies buried. + +_Ch_. Rather small tombs, considering. Now show me the great cities, +those that we hear talked about in Hades; Nineveh, Babylon, Mycenae, +Cleonae, and Troy itself. I shipped numbers across from there, I +remember. For ten years running I had no time to haul my boat up and +clean it. + +_Her_. Why, as to Nineveh, it is gone, friend, long ago, and has left +no trace behind it; there is no saying whereabouts it may have been. +But there is Babylon, with its fine battlements and its enormous wall. +Before long it will be as hard to find as Nineveh. As to Mycenae and +Cleonae, I am ashamed to show them to you, let alone Troy. You will +throttle Homer, for certain, when you get back, for puffing them so. +They were prosperous cities, too, in their day; but they have gone the +way of all flesh. Cities, my friend, die, just like men; stranger +still, so do rivers! Inachus is gone from Argos--not a puddle left. + +_Ch_. Oh, Homer, Homer! You and your 'holy Troy,' and your 'city of +broad streets,' and your 'strong-walled Cleonae'!--By the way, what is +that battle going on over there? What are they murdering one another +about? + +_Her_. It is between the Argives and the Lacedaemonians. The general +who lies there half-dead, writing an inscription on the trophy with +his own blood, is Othryades. + +_Ch_. And what were they fighting for? + +_Her_. For the field of battle, neither more nor less. + +_Ch_. The fools! Not to know that though each one of them should win +to himself a whole Peloponnesus, he will get but a bare foot of ground +from Aeacus! As to yonder plain, one nation will till it after +another, and many a time will that trophy be turned up by the plough. + +_Her_. Even so. And now let us get down, and put these mountains to +rights again. After which, I must be off on my errand, and you back to +your ferry. You will see me there before long, with the day's +contingent of shades. + +_Ch_. I am much obliged to you, Hermes; the service shall be +perpetuated in my records. Thanks to you, my outing has been a +success. Dear, dear, what a world it is!--And never a word of Charon! + +F. + + + + +OF SACRIFICE + + +Methinks that man must lie sore stricken under the hand of sorrow, who +has not a smile left for the folly of his superstitious brethren, when +he sees them at work on sacrifice and festival and worship of the +gods, hears the subject of their prayers, and marks the nature of +their creed. Nor, I fancy, will a smile be all. He will first have a +question to ask himself: Is he to call them devout worshippers or very +outcasts, who think so meanly of God as to suppose that he can require +anything at the hand of man, can take pleasure in their flattery, or +be wounded by their neglect? Thus the afflictions of the Calydonians, +that long tale of misery and violence, ending with the death of +Meleager--all is attributed to the resentment of Artemis, at Oeneus's +neglect in not inviting her to a feast. She must have taken the +disappointment very much to heart. I fancy I see her, poor Goddess, +left all alone in Heaven, after the rest have set out for Calydon, +brooding darkly over the fine spread at which she will not be present. +Those Ethiopians, too; privileged, thrice-happy mortals! Zeus, one +supposes, is not unmindful of the handsome manner in which they +entertained him and all his family for twelve days running. With the +Gods, clearly, nothing goes for nothing. Each blessing has its price. +Health is to be had, say, for a calf; wealth, for a couple of yoke of +oxen; a kingdom, for a hecatomb. A safe conduct from Troy to Pylos has +fetched as much as nine bulls, and a passage from Aulis to Troy has +been quoted at a princess. For six yoke of oxen and a robe, Athene +sold Hecuba a reprieve for Troy; and it is to be presumed that a cock, +a garland, a handful of frankincense, will each buy something. + +Chryses, that experienced divine and eminent theologian, seems to have +realized this principle. Returning from his fruitless visit to +Agamemnon, he approaches Apollo with the air of a creditor, and +demands repayment of his loan. His attitude is one of remonstrance, +almost, 'Good Apollo,' he cries, 'here have I been garlanding your +temple, where never garland hung before, and burning unlimited thigh- +pieces of bulls and goats upon your altars: yet when I suffer wrong, +you take no heed; you count my benefactions as nothing worth.' The God +is quite put out of countenance: he seizes his bow, settles down in +the harbour and smites the Achaeans with shafts of pestilence, them +and their mules and their dogs. + +And now that I have mentioned Apollo, I cannot refrain from an +allusion to certain other passages in his life, which are recorded by +the sages. With his unfortunate love affairs--the sad end of Hyacinth, +and the cruelty of Daphne--we are not concerned. But when that vote +of censure was passed on him for the slaughter of the Cyclopes, he was +dismissed from Heaven, and condemned to share the fortunes of men upon +earth. It was then that he served Admetus in Thessaly, and Laomedon in +Phrygia; and in the latter service he was not alone. He and Posidon +together, since better might not be, made bricks and built the walls +of Troy; and did not even get their full wages;--the Phrygian, it is +said, remained their debtor for no less a sum than five-and-twenty +shillings Trojan, and odd pence. These, and yet holier mysteries than +these, are the high themes of our poets. They tell of Hephaestus and +of Prometheus; of Cronus and Rhea, and well-nigh all the family of +Zeus. And as they never commence their poems without bespeaking the +assistance of the Muses, we must conclude that it is under that divine +inspiration that they sing, how Cronus unmanned his father Uranus, and +was king in his room; and how, like Argive Thyestes, he swallowed his +own children; and how thereafter Rhea saved Zeus by the fraud of the +stone, and the child was exposed in Crete, and suckled by a goat, as +Telephus was by a hind, and Cyrus the Great by a bitch; and how he +dethroned his father, and threw him into prison, and was king; and of +his many wives, and how finally (like a Persian or an Assyrian) he +married his own sister Hera; and of his love adventures, and how he +peopled the Heaven with gods, ay, and with demi-gods, the rogued for +he wooed the daughters of earth, appearing to them now in a shower of +gold, now in the form of a bull or a swan or an eagle; a very Proteus +for versatility. Once, and only once, he conceived within his own +brain, and gave birth to Athene. For Dionysus, they say, he tore from +the womb of Semele before the fire had yet consumed her, and hid the +child within his thigh, till the time of travail was come. + +Similarly, we find Hera conceiving without external assistance, and +giving birth to Hephaestus; no child of fortune he, but a base +mechanic, living all his life at the forge, soot-begrimed as any +stoker. He is not even sound of limb; he has been lame ever since Zeus +threw him down from Heaven. Fortunately for us the Lemnians broke his +fall, or there would have been an end of him, as surely as there was +of Astyanax when he was flung from the battlements. But Hephaestus is +nothing to Prometheus. Who knows not the sorrows of that officious +philanthropist? How he too fell a victim to the wrath of Zeus, and was +carried into Scythia, and nailed up on Caucasus, with an eagle to keep +him company and make daily havoc of his liver? However, _there_ was a +reckoning settled, at any rate. But Rhea, now! We cannot, I think, +pass over her conduct unnoticed. It is surely most discreditable;--a +lady of her venerable years, the mother of such a family, still +feeling the pangs of love and jealousy, and carrying her beloved Attis +about with her in the lion-drawn car,--and he so ill qualified to play +the lover's part! After that, we can but wink, if we find Aphrodite +making a slip, or Selene time after time pulling up in mid-career to +pay a visit to Endymion. + +But enough of scandal. Borne on the wings of poesy, let us take flight +for Heaven itself, as Homer and Hesiod have done before us, and see +how all is disposed up there. The vault is of brass on the under side, +as we know from Homer. But climb over the edge, and take a peep up. +You are now actually in Heaven. Observe the increase of light; here is +a purer Sun, and brighter stars; daylight is everywhere, and the floor +is of gold. We arrive first at the abode of the Seasons; they are the +fortresses of Heaven. Then we have Iris and Hermes, the servants and +messengers of Zeus; and next Hephaestus's smithy, which is stocked +with all manner of cunning contrivances. Last come the dwellings of +the Gods, and the palace of Zeus. All are the work of Hephaestus; and +noble work it is. + + Hard by the throne of Zeus + +(I suppose we must adapt our language to our altitude) + + sit all the gods. + +Their eyes are turned downwards; intently they search every corner of +the earth; is there nowhere a fire to be seen, or the steam of burnt- +offerings + + ... in eddying clouds upborne? + +If a sacrifice is going forward, all mouths are open to feast upon the +smoke; like flies they settle on the altar to drink up the trickling +streams of blood. If they are dining at home, nectar and ambrosia is +the bill of fare. In ancient days, mortals have eaten and drunk at +their table. Such were Ixion and Tantalus; but they forgot their +manners, and talked too much. They are paying the penalty for it to +this day; and since then mortals have been excluded from Heaven. + +The life of the Gods being such as I have described, our religious +ordinances are in admirable harmony with the divine requirements. Our +first care has been to supply each God with his sacred grove, his holy +hill, and his own peculiar bird or plant. The next step was to assign +them their various sacred cities. Apollo has the freedom of Delphi and +Delos, Athene that of Athens (there is no disputing _her_ +nationality); Hera is an Argive, Rhea a Mygdonian, Aphrodite a +Paphian. As for Zeus, he is a Cretan born and bred--and buried, as any +native of that island will show you. It was a mistake of ours to +suppose that Zeus was dispensing the thunder and the rain and the rest +of it;--he has been lying snugly underground in Crete all this time. +As it would never have done to leave the Gods without a hearth and +home, temples were now erected, and the services of Phidias, +Polyclitus, and Praxiteles were called in to create images in their +likeness. Chance glimpses of their originals (but where obtained I +know not) enabled these artists to do justice to the beard of Zeus, +the perpetual youth of Apollo, the down on Hermes's cheek, Posidon's +sea-green hair, and Athene's flashing eyes; with the result that on +entering the temple of Zeus men believe that they see before them, not +Indian ivory, nor gold from a Thracian mine, but the veritable son of +Cronus and Rhea, translated to earth by the hand of Phidias, with +instructions to keep watch over the deserted plains of Pisa, and +content with his lot, if, once in four years, a spectator of the games +can snatch a moment to pay him sacrifice. + +And now the altars stand ready; proclamation has been made, and +lustration duly performed. The victims are accordingly brought +forward--an ox from the plough, a ram or a goat, according as the +worshipper is a farmer, a shepherd, or a goatherd; sometimes it is +only frankincense or a honey cake; nay, a poor man may conciliate the +God by merely kissing his hand. But it is with the priests that we are +concerned. They first make sure that the victim is without blemish, +and worthy of the sacrificial knife; then they crown him with garlands +and lead him to the altar, where he is slaughtered before the God's +eyes, to the broken accompaniment of his own sanctimonious bellowings, +most musical, most melancholy. The delight of the Gods at such a +spectacle, who can doubt? + +According to the proclamation, no man shall approach the holy ground +with _unclean hands_. Yet there stands the priest himself, wallowing +in gore; handling his knife like a very Cyclops, drawing out entrails +and heart, sprinkling the altar with blood,--in short, omitting no +detail of his holy office. Finally, he kindles fire, and sets the +victim bodily thereon, sheep or goat, unfleeced, unflayed. A godly +steam, and fit for godly nostrils, rises heavenwards, and drifts to +each quarter of the sky. The Scythian, by the way, will have nothing +to do with paltry cattle: he offers _men_ to Artemis; and the offering +is appreciated. + +But all this, and all that Assyria, Phrygia, and Lydia can show, +amounts to nothing much. If you would see the Gods in their glory, fit +denizens of Heaven, you must go to Egypt. There you will find that +Zeus has sprouted ram's horns, our old friend Hermes has the muzzle of +a dog, and Pan is perfect goat; ibis, crocodile, ape,--each is a God +in disguise. + + And wouldst thou know the truth that lurks herein? + +If so, you will find no lack of sages and scribes and shaven priests +to inform you (after expulsion of the _profanum vulgus_) how, when the +Giants and their other enemies rose against them, the Gods fled to +Egypt to hide themselves, and there took the form of goat and ram, of +bird and reptile, which forms they preserve to this day. Of all this +they have documentary evidence, dating from thousands of years back, +stored up in their temples. Their sacrifices differ from others only +in this respect, that they go into mourning for the victim, slaying +him first, and beating their breasts for grief afterwards, and (in +some parts) burying him as soon as he is killed. When their great god +Apis dies, off comes every man's hair, however much he values himself +on it; though he had the purple lock of Nisus, it would make no +difference: he must show a sad crown on the occasion, if he die for +it. It is as the result of an election that each succeeding Apis +leaves his pasture for the temple; his superior beauty and majestic +bearing prove that he is something more than bull. + +On such absurdities as these, such vulgar credulity, remonstrance +would be thrown away; a Heraclitus would best meet the case, or a +Democritus; for the ignorance of these men is as laughable as their +folly is deplorable. + +F. + + + + +SALE OF CREEDS + +[Footnote: The distinction between the personified creeds or +philosophies here offered for sale, and their various founders or +principal exponents, is but loosely kept up. Not only do most of the +creeds bear the names of their founders, but some are even credited +with their physical peculiarities and their personal experiences.] + +_Zeus. Hermes. Several Dealers. Creeds_. + + +_Zeus_. Now get those benches straight there, and make the place fit +to be seen. Bring up the lots, one of you, and put them in line. Give +them a rub up first, though; we must have them looking their best, to +attract bidders. Hermes, you can declare the sale-room open, and a +welcome to all comers.--_For Sale! A varied assortment of Live Creeds. +Tenets of every description.--Cash on delivery; or credit allowed on +suitable security_. + +_Hermes_. Here they come, swarming in. No time to lose; we must not +keep them waiting. + +_Zeus_. Well, let us begin. + +_Her_. What are we to put up first? + +_Zeus_. The Ionic fellow, with the long hair. He seems a showy piece +of goods. + +_Her_. Step up, Pythagoreanism, and show yourself. + +_Zeus_. Go ahead. + +_Her_. Now here is a creed of the first water. Who bids for this +handsome article? What gentleman says Superhumanity? Harmony of the +Universe! Transmigration of souls! Who bids? + +_First Dealer_. He looks all right. And what can he do? + +_Her_. Magic, music, arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, jugglery. +Prophecy in all its branches. + +_First D_. Can I ask him some questions? + +_Her_. Ask away, and welcome. + +_First D_. Where do you come from? + +_Py_. Samos. + +_First D_. Where did you get your schooling? + +_Py_. From the sophists in Egypt. + +_First D_. If I buy you, what will you teach me? + +_Py_. Nothing. I will remind you. + +_First D_. Remind me? + +_Py_. But first I shall have to cleanse your soul of its filth. + +_First D_. Well, suppose the cleansing process complete. How is the +reminding done? + +_Py_. We shall begin with a long course of silent contemplation. Not a +word to be spoken for five years. + +_First D_. You would have been just the creed for Croesus's son! But +_I_ have a tongue in my head; I have no ambition to be a statue. And +after the five years' silence? + +_Py_. You will study music and geometry. + +_First D_. A charming recipe! The way to be wise: learn the guitar. + +_Py_. Next you will learn to count. + +_First D_. I can do that already. + +_Py_. Let me hear you. + +_First D_. One, two, three, four,-- + +_Py_. There you are, you see. _Four_ (as you call it) is _ten_. Four +the perfect triangle. Four the oath of our school. + +_First D_. Now by Four, most potent Four!--higher and holier mysteries +than these I never heard. + +_Py_. Then you will learn of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water; their +action, their movement, their shapes. + +_First D_. Have Fire and Air and Water _shapes_? + +_Py_. Clearly. That cannot move which lacks shape and form You will +also find that God is a number; an intelligence; a harmony. + +_First D_. You surprise me. + +_Py_. More than this, you have to learn that you yourself are not the +person you appear to be. + +_First D_. What, I am some one else, not the I who am speaking to you? + +_Py_. You are that you now: but you have formerly inhabited another +body, and borne another name. And in course of time you will change +once more. + +_First D_. Why then I shall be immortal, and take one shape after +another? But enough of this. And now what is your diet? + +_Py_. Of living things I eat none. All else I eat, except beans. + +_First D_. And why no beans? Do you dislike them? + +_Py_. No. But they are sacred things. Their nature is a mystery. +Consider them first in their generative aspect; take a green one and +peel it, and you will see what I mean. Again, boil one and expose it +to moonlight for a proper number of nights, and you have--blood. What +is more, the Athenians use beans to vote with. + +_First D_. Admirable! A very feast of reason. Now just strip, and let +me see what you are like. Bless me, here is a creed with a golden +thigh! He is no mortal, he is a God. I must have him at any price. +What do you start him at? + +_Her_. Forty pounds. + +_First D_. He is mine for forty pounds. + +_Zeus_. Take the gentleman's name and address. + +_Her_. He must come from Italy, I should think; Croton or Tarentum, or +one of the Greek towns in those parts. But he is not the only buyer. +Some three hundred of them have clubbed together. + +_Zeus_. They are welcome to him. Now up with the next. + +_Her_. What about yonder grubby Pontian? [Footnote: See _Diogenes_ in +Notes.] + +_Zeus_. Yes, he will do. + +_Her_. You there with the wallet and cloak; come along, walk round the +room. Lot No. 2. A most sturdy and valiant creed, free-born. What +offers? + +_Second D_. Hullo, Mr. Auctioneer, are you going to sell a free man? + +_Her_. That was the idea. + +_Second D_. Take care, he may have you up for kidnapping. This might +be matter for the Areopagus. + +_Her_. Oh, he would as soon be sold as not. He feels just as free as +ever. + +_Second D_. But what is one to do with such a dirty fellow? He is a +pitiable sight. One might put him to dig perhaps, or to carry water. + +_Her_. That he can do and more. Set him to guard your house, and you +will find him better than any watch-dog.--They call him Dog for short. + +_Second D_. Where does he come from? and what is his method? + +_Her_. He can best tell you that himself. + +_Second D_. I don't like his looks. He will probably snarl if I go +near him, or take a snap at me, for all I know. See how he lifts his +stick, and scowls; an awkward-looking customer! + +_Her_. Don't be afraid. He is quite tame. + +_Second D_. Tell me, good fellow, where do you come from? + +_Dio_. Everywhere. _Second D_. What does that mean? + +_Dio_. It means that I am a citizen of the world. + +_Second D_. And your model? + +_Dio_. Heracles. + +_Second D_. Then why no lion's-skin? You have the orthodox club. + +_Dio_. My cloak is my lion's-skin. Like Heracles, I live in a state of +warfare, and my enemy is Pleasure; but unlike him I am a volunteer. My +purpose is to purify humanity. + +_Second D_. A noble purpose. Now what do I understand to be your +strong subject? What is your profession? + +_Dio_. The liberation of humanity, and the treatment of the passions. +In short, I am the prophet of Truth and Candour. + +_Second D_. Well, prophet; and if I buy you, how shall you handle my +case? + +_Dio_. I shall commence operations by stripping off yours +superfluities, putting you into fustian, and leaving you closeted with +Necessity. Then I shall give you a course of hard labour. You will +sleep on the ground, drink water, and fill your belly as best you can. +Have you money? Take my advice and throw it into the sea. With wife +and children and country you will not concern yourself; there will be +no more of that nonsense. You will exchange your present home for a +sepulchre, a ruin, or a tub. What with lupines and close-written +tomes, your knapsack will never be empty; and you will vote yourself +happier than any king. Nor will you esteem it any inconvenience, if a +flogging or a turn of the rack should fall to your lot. + +_Second D_. How! Am I a tortoise, a lobster, that I should be flogged +and feel it not? + +_Dio_. You will take your cue from Hippolytus; _mutates mutandis_. + +_Second D_. How so? + +_Dio_. 'The heart may burn, the tongue knows nought thereof'. +[Footnote: Hippolytus (in Euripides's play of that name) is reproached +with having broken an oath, and thus defends himself: 'The tongue hath +sworn: the heart knew nought thereof.'] Above all, be bold, be +impudent; distribute your abuse impartially to king and commoner. They +will admire your spirit. You will talk the Cynic jargon with the true +Cynic snarl, scowling as you walk, and walking as one should who +scowls; an epitome of brutality. Away with modesty, good-nature, and +forbearance. Wipe the blush from your cheek for ever. Your +hunting-ground will be the crowded city. You will live alone in its +midst, holding communion with none, admitting neither friend nor +guest; for such would undermine your power. Scruple not to perform the +deeds of darkness in broad daylight: select your love-adventures with +a view to the public entertainment: and finally, when the fancy takes +you, swallow a raw cuttle-fish, and die. Such are the delights of +Cynicism. + +_Second D_. Oh, vile creed! Monstrous creed! Avaunt! + +_Dio_. But look you, it is all so easy; it is within every man's +reach. No education is necessary, no nonsensical argumentation. I +offer you a short cut to Glory. You may be the merest clown--cobbler, +fishmonger, carpenter, money-changer; yet there is nothing to prevent +your becoming famous. Given brass and boldness, you have only to learn +to wag your tongue with dexterity. + +_Second D_. All this is of no use to me. But I might make a sailor or +a gardener of you at a pinch; that is, if you are to be had cheap. +Three-pence is the most I can give. + +_Her_. He is yours, to have and to hold. And good riddance to the +brawling foul-mouthed bully. He is a slanderer by wholesale. + +_Zeus_. Now for the Cyrenaic, the crowned and purple-robed. + +_Her_. Attend please, gentlemen all. A most valuable article, this, +and calls for a long purse. Look at him. A sweet thing in creeds. A +creed for a king. Has any gentleman a use for the Lap of Luxury? Who +bids? + +_Third D_. Come and tell me what you know. If you are a practical +creed, I will have you. + +_Her_. Please not to worry him with questions, sir. He is drunk, and +cannot answer; his tongue plays him tricks, as you see. + +_Third D_. And who in his senses would buy such an abandoned +reprobate? How he smells of scent! And how he slips and staggers +about! Well, you must speak for him, Hermes. What can he do? What is +his line? + +_Her_. Well, for any gentleman who is not strait-laced, who loves a +pretty girl, a bottle, and a jolly companion, he is the very thing. He +is also a past master in gastronomy, and a connoisseur in +voluptuousness generally. He was educated at Athens, and has served +royalty in Sicily [Footnote: See _Aristippus_ in Notes.], where he had +a very good character. Here are his principles in a nutshell: Think +the worst of things: make the most of things: get all possible +pleasure out of things. + +_Third D_. You must look for wealthier purchasers. My purse is not +equal to such a festive creed. + +_Her_. Zeus, this lot seems likely to remain on our hands. + +_Zeus_. Put it aside, and up with another. Stay, take the pair from +Abdera and Ephesus; the creeds of Smiles and Tears. They shall make +one lot. + +_Her_. Come forward, you two. Lot No. 4. A superlative pair. The +smartest brace of creeds on our catalogue. + +_Fourth D_. Zeus! What a difference is here! One of them does nothing +but laugh, and the other might be at a funeral; he is all tears.--You +there! what is the joke? + +_Democr_. You ask? You and your affairs are all one vast joke. + +_Fourth D_. So! You laugh at us? Our business is a toy? + +_Democr_. It is. There is no taking it seriously. All is vanity. Mere +interchange of atoms in an infinite void. + +_Fourth D_. _Your_ vanity is infinite, if you like. Stop that +laughing, you rascal.--And you, my poor fellow, what are you crying +for? I must see what I can make of you. + +_Heracl_. I am thinking, friend, upon human affairs; and well may I +weep and lament, for the doom of all is sealed. Hence my compassion +and my sorrow. For the present, I think not of it; but the future!-- +the future is all bitterness. Conflagration and destruction of the +world. I weep to think that nothing abides. All things are whirled +together in confusion. Pleasure and pain, knowledge and ignorance, +great and small; up and down they go, the playthings of Time. + +_Fourth D_. And what is Time? + +_Heracl_. A child; and plays at draughts and blindman's-bluff. + +_Fourth D_. And men? + +_Heracl_. Are mortal Gods. + +_Fourth D_. And Gods? + +_Heracl_. Immortal men. + +_Fourth D_. So! Conundrums, fellow? Nuts to crack? You are a very +oracle for obscurity. + +_Heracl_. Your affairs do not interest me. + +_Fourth D_. No one will be fool enough to bid for you at that +rate. + +_Heracl_. Young and old, him that bids and him that bids not, a +murrain seize you all! + +_Fourth D_. A sad case. He will be melancholy mad before long. Neither +of these is the creed for my money. + +_Her_. No one bids. + +_Zeus_. Next lot. + +_Her_. The Athenian there? Old Chatterbox? + +_Zeus_. By all means. + +_Her_. Come forward!--A good sensible creed this. Who buys Holiness? + +_Fifth D_. Let me see. What are you good for? + +_Soc_. I teach the art of love. + +_Fifth D_. A likely bargain for me! I want a tutor for my young +Adonis. + +_Soc_. And could he have a better? The love I teach is of, the spirit, +not of the flesh. Under my roof, be sure, a boy will come to no harm. + +_Fifth D_. Very unconvincing that. A teacher of the art of love, and +never meddle with anything but the spirit? Never use the opportunities +your office gives you? + +_Soc_. Now by Dog and Plane-tree, it is as I say! + +_Fifth D_. Heracles! What strange Gods are these? + +_Soc_. Why, the Dog is a God, I suppose? Is not Anubis made much of in +Egypt? Is there not a Dog-star in Heaven, and a Cerberus in the lower +world? + +_Fifth D_. Quite so. My mistake. Now what is your manner of life? + +_Soc_. I live in a city of my own building; I make my own laws, and +have a novel constitution of my own. + +__Fifth D. I should like to hear some of your statutes. + +_Soc_. You shall hear the greatest of them all. No woman shall be +restricted to one husband. Every man who likes is her husband. + +_Fifth D_. What! Then the laws of adultery are clean swept away? + +_Soc_. I should think they were! and a world of hair-splitting with +them. + +_Fifth D_. And what do you do with the handsome boys? + +_Soc_. Their kisses are the reward of merit, of noble and spirited +actions. + +_Fifth D_. Unparalleled generosity!--And now, what are the main +features of your philosophy? + +_Soc_. Ideas and types of things. All things that you see, the earth +and all that is upon it, the sea, the sky,--each has its counterpart +in the invisible world. + +_Fifth D_. And where are they? + +_Soc_. Nowhere. Were they anywhere, they were not what they are. + +_Fifth D_. I see no signs of these 'types' of yours. + +_Soc_. Of course not; because you are spiritually blind. _I_ see the +counterparts of all things; an invisible you, an invisible me; +everything is in duplicate. + +_Fifth D_. Come, such a shrewd and lynx-eyed creed is worth a bid. Let +me see. What do you want for him? + +_Her_. Five hundred. + +_Fifth D_. Done with you. Only I must settle the bill another day. + +_Her_. What name? + +_Fifth D_. Dion; of Syracuse. + +_Her_. Take him, and much good may he do you. Now I want Epicureanism. +Who offers for Epicureanism? He is a disciple of the laughing creed +and the drunken creed, whom we were offering just now. But he has one +extra accomplishment--impiety. For the rest, a dainty, lickerish +creed. + +_Sixth D_. What price? + +_Her_. Eight pounds. + +_Sixth D_. Here you are. By the way, you might let me know what he +likes to eat. + +_Her_. Anything sweet. Anything with honey in it. Dried figs are his +favourite dish. + +_Sixth D_. That is all right. We will get in a supply of Carian +fig-cakes. + +_Zeus_. Call the next lot. Stoicism; the creed of the sorrowful +countenance, the close-cropped creed. + +_Her_. Ah yes, several customers, I fancy, are on the look-out for +him. Virtue incarnate! The very quintessence of creeds! Who is for +universal monopoly? + +_Seventh D_. How are we to understand that? + +_Her_. Why, here is monopoly of wisdom, monopoly of beauty, monopoly +of courage, monopoly of justice. Sole king, sole orator, sole +legislator, sole millionaire. + +_Seventh D_. And I suppose sole cook, sole tanner, sole carpenter, and +all that? + +_Her_. Presumably. + +_Seventh D_. Regard me as your purchaser, good fellow, and tell me all +about yourself. I dare say you think it rather hard to be sold for a +slave? + +_Chrys_. Not at all. These things are beyond our control. And what is +beyond our control is indifferent. + +_Seventh D_. I don't see how you make that out. + +_Chrys_. What! Have you yet to learn that of _indifferentia_ some are +_praeposita_ and others _rejecta_? + +_Seventh D_. Still I don't quite see. + +_Chrys_. No; how should you? You are not familiar with our terms. You +lack the _comprehensio visi_. The earnest student of logic knows this +and more than this. He understands the nature of subject, predicate, +and contingent, and the distinctions between them. + +_Seventh D_. Now in Wisdom's name, tell me, pray, what is a predicate? +what is a contingent? There is a ring about those words that takes my +fancy. + +_Chrys_. With all my heart. A man lame in one foot knocks that foot +accidentally against a stone, and gets a cut. Now the man is _subject_ +to lameness; which is the _predicate_. And the cut is a _contingency_. + +_Seventh D_. Oh, subtle! What else can you tell me? + +_Chrys_. I have verbal involutions, for the better hampering, +crippling, and muzzling of my antagonists. This is performed by the +use of the far-famed syllogism. + +_Seventh D_. Syllogism! I warrant him a tough customer. + +_Chrys_. Take a case. You have a child? + +_Seventh D_. Well, and what if I have? + +_Chrys_. A crocodile catches him as he wanders along the bank of a +river, and promises to restore him to you, if you will first guess +correctly whether he means to restore him or not. Which are you going +to say? + +_Seventh D_. A difficult question. I don't know which way I should get +him back soonest. In Heaven's name, answer for me, and save the child +before he is eaten up. + +_Chrys_. Ha, ha. I will teach you far other things than that. + +_Seventh D_. For instance? + +_Chrys_. There is the 'Reaper.' There is the 'Rightful Owner.' Better +still, there is the 'Electra' and the 'Man in the Hood.' + +_Seventh D_. Who was he? and who was Electra? + +_Chrys_. She was _the_ Electra, the daughter of Agamemnon, to whom the +same thing was known and unknown at the same time. She knew that +Orestes was her brother: yet when he stood before her she did not know +(until he revealed himself) that her brother was Orestes. As to the +Man in the Hood, he will surprise you considerably. Answer me now: do +you know your own father? + +_Seventh D_. Yes. + +_Chrys_. Well now, if I present to you a man in a hood, shall you know +him? eh? + +_Seventh D_. Of course not. + +_Chrys_. Well, but the Man in the Hood is your father. You don't know +the Man in the Hood. Therefore you don't know your own father. + +_Seventh D_. Why, no. But if I take his hood off, I shall get at the +facts. Now tell me, what is the end of your philosophy? What happens +when you reach the goal of virtue? + +_Chrys_. In regard to things external, health, wealth, and the like, I +am then all that Nature intended me to be. But there is much previous +toil to be undergone. You will first sharpen your eyes on minute +manuscripts, amass commentaries, and get your bellyful of outlandish +terms. Last but not least, it is forbidden to be wise without repeated +doses of hellebore. + +_Seventh D_. All this is exalted and magnanimous to a degree. But what +am I to think when I find that you are also the creed of +cent-per-cent, the creed of the usurer? Has _he_ swallowed his +hellebore? is _he_ made perfect in virtue? + +_Chrys_. Assuredly. On none but the wise man does usury sit well. +Consider. His is the art of putting two and two together, and usury is +the art of putting interest together. The two are evidently connected, +and one as much as the other is the prerogative of the true believer; +who, not content, like common men, with simple interest, will also +take interest _upon_ interest. For interest, as you are probably +aware, is of two kinds. There is simple interest, and there is its +offspring, compound interest. Hear Syllogism on the subject. 'If I +take simple interest, I shall also take compound. But I _shall_ +take simple interest: therefore I shall take compound.' + +_Seventh D_. And the same applies to the fees you take from your +youthful pupils? None but the true believer sells virtue for a fee? + +_Chrys_. Quite right. I take the fee in my pupil's interest, not +because I want it. The world is made up of diffusion and accumulation. +I accordingly practise my pupil in the former, and myself in the +latter. + +_Seventh D_. But it ought to be the other way. The pupil ought to +accumulate, and you, 'sole millionaire,' ought to diffuse. + +_Chrys_. Ha! you jest with me? Beware of the shaft of insoluble +syllogism. + +_Seventh D_. What harm can that do? + +_Chrys_. It cripples; it ties the tongue, and turns the brain. Nay, I +have but to will it, and you are stone this instant. + +_Seventh D_. Stone! You are no Perseus, friend? + +_Chrys_. See here. A stone is a body? + +_Seventh D_. Yes. + +_Chrys_. Well, and an animal is a body? + +_Seventh D_. Yes. + +_Chrys_. And you are an animal? + +_Seventh D_. I suppose I am. + +_Chrys_. Therefore you are a body. Therefore a stone. + +_Seventh D_. Mercy, in Heaven's name! Unstone me, and let me be flesh +as heretofore. + +_Chrys_. That is soon done. Back with you into flesh! Thus: Is every +body animate? + +_Seventh D_. No. + +_Chrys_. Is a stone animate? + +_Seventh D_. No. + +_Chrys_. Now, you are a body? + +_Seventh D_. Yes. + +_Chrys_. And an animate body? + +_Seventh D_. Yes. + +_Chrys_. Then being animate, you cannot be a stone. + +_Seventh D_. Ah! thank you, thank you. I was beginning to feel my +limbs growing numb and solidifying like Niobe's. Oh, I must have you. +What's to pay? + +_Her_. Fifty pounds. + +_Seventh D_. Here it is. + +_Her_. Are you sole purchaser? + +_Seventh D_. Not I. All these gentlemen here are going shares. + +_Her_. A fine strapping lot of fellows, and will do the 'Reaper' +credit. + +_Zeus_. Don't waste time. Next lot,--the Peripatetic! + +_Her_. Now, my beauty, now, Affluence! Gentlemen, if you want Wisdom +for your money, here is a creed that comprises all knowledge. + +_Eighth D_. What is he like? + +_Her_. He is temperate, good-natured, easy to get on with; and his +strong point is, that he is twins. + +_Eighth D_. How can that be? + +_Her_. Why, he is one creed outside, and another inside. So remember, +if you buy him, one of him is called Esoteric, and the other Exoteric. + +_Eighth D_. And what has he to say for himself? + +_Her_. He has to say that there are three kinds of good: spiritual, +corporeal, circumstantial. + +_Eighth D_. _There's_ something a man can understand. How much is he? + +_Her_. Eighty pounds. + +_Eighth D_. Eighty pounds is a long price. + +_Her_. Not at all, my dear sir, not at all. You see, there is some +money with him, to all appearance. Snap him up before it is too late. +Why, from him you will find out in no time how long a gnat lives, to +how many fathoms' depth the sunlight penetrates the sea, and what an +oyster's soul is like. + +_Eighth D_. Heracles! Nothing escapes him. + +_Her_. Ah, these are trifles. You should hear some of his more +abstruse speculations, concerning generation and birth and the +development of the embryo; and his distinction between man, the +laughing creature, and the ass, which is neither a laughing nor a +carpentering nor a shipping creature. + +_Eighth D_. Such knowledge is as useful as it is ornamental. Eighty +pounds be it, then. + +_Her_. He is yours. + +_Zeus_. What have we left? + +_Her_. There is Scepticism. Come along, Pyrrhias, and be put up. +Quick's the word. The attendance is dwindling; there will be small +competition. Well, who buys Lot 9? + +_Ninth D_. I. Tell me first, though, what do you know? + +_Sc_. Nothing. + +_Ninth D_. But how's that? + +_Sc_. There does not appear to me to _be_ anything. + +_Ninth D_. Are not _we_ something? + +_Sc_. How do I know that? + +_Ninth D_. And you yourself? + +_Sc_. Of that I am still more doubtful. + +_Ninth D_. Well, you _are_ in a fix! And what have you got those +scales for? + +_Sc_. I use them to weigh arguments in, and get them evenly balanced, +They must be absolutely equal--not a feather-weight to choose between +them; then, and not till then, can I make uncertain which is right. +_Ninth D_. What else can you turn your hand to? + +_Sc_. Anything; except catching a runaway. + +_Ninth D_. And why not that? + +_Sc_. Because, friend, everything eludes my grasp. + +_Ninth D_. I believe you. A slow, lumpish fellow you seem to be. And +what is the end of your knowledge? + +_Sc_. Ignorance. Deafness. Blindness. + +_Ninth D_. What! sight and hearing both gone? + +_Sc_. And with them judgement and perception, and all, in short, that +distinguishes man from a worm. + +_Ninth D_. You are worth money!--What shall we say for him? + +_Her_. Four pounds. + +_Ninth D_. Here it is. Well, fellow; so you are mine? + +_Sc_. I doubt it. + +_Ninth D_. Nay, doubt it not! You are bought and paid for. + +_Sc_. It is a difficult case.... I reserve my decision. + +_Ninth D_. Now, come along with me, like a good slave. + +_Sc_. But how am I to know whether what you say is true? + +_Ninth D_. Ask the auctioneer. Ask my money. Ask the spectators. + +_Sc_. Spectators? But can we be sure there are any? + +_Ninth D_. Oh, I'll send you to the treadmill. That will convince you +with a vengeance that I am your master. + +_Sc_. Reserve your decision. + +_Ninth D_. Too late. It is given. + +_Her_. Stop that wrangling and go with your purchaser. Gentlemen, we +hope to see you here again to-morrow, when we shall be offering some +lots suitable for plain men, artisans, and shopkeepers. + +F. + + + + +THE FISHER + +A RESURRECTION PIECE + +_Lucian or Parrhesiades. Socrates, Empedocles. Plato. Chrysippus. +Diogenes. Aristotle. Other Philosophers. Platonists. Pythagoreans. +Stoics. Peripatetics. Epicureans. Academics. Philosophy. Truth. +Temperance. Virtue. Syllogism. Exposure. Priestess of Athene_. + + +_Soc_. Stone the miscreant; stone him with many stones; clod him with +clods; pot him with pots; let the culprit feel your sticks; leave him +no way out. At him, Plato! come, Chrysippus, let him have it! Shoulder +to shoulder, close the ranks; + + Let wallet succour wallet, staff aid staff! + +We are all parties in this war; not one of us but he has assailed. +You, Diogenes, now if ever is the time for that stick of yours; stand +firm, all of you. Let him reap the fruits of his reveling. What, +Epicurus, Aristippus, tired already? 'tis too soon; ye sages, + + Be men; relume that erstwhile furious wrath! + +Aristotle, one more sprint. There! the brute is caught; we have you, +villain. You shall soon know a little more about the characters you +have assailed. Now, what shall we do with him? it must be rather an +elaborate execution, to meet all our claims upon him; he owes a +separate death to every one of us. + +_First Phil_. Impale him, say I. + +_Second Phil_. Yes, but scourge him first. + +_Third Phil_. Tear out his eyes. + +_Fourth Phil_. Ah, but first out with the offending tongue. + +_Soc_. What say you, Empedocles? + +_Emp_. Oh, fling him into a crater; that will teach him to vilify his +betters. + +_Pl_. 'Twere best for him, Orpheus or Pentheus like, to + + Find death, dashed all to pieces on the rock; + +so each might have taken a piece home with him. + +_Lu_. Forbear; spare me; I appeal to the God of suppliants. + +_Soc_. Too late; no loophole is left you now. And you know your Homer: + + 'Twixt men and lions, covenants are null.' + +_Lu_. Why, it is in Homer's name that I ask my boon. You will perhaps +pay reverence to his lines, and listen to a selection from him: + + Slay not; no churl is he; a ransom take + Of bronze and gold, whereof wise hearts are fain. + +_Pl_. Why, two can play at that game; _exempli gratia_, + + Reviler, babble not of gold, nor nurse + Hope of escape from these our hands that hold thee. + +_Lu_. Ah me, ah me! my best hopes dashed, with Homer! Let me fly to +Euripides; it may be he will protect me: + + Leave him his life; the suppliant's life is sacred. + +_Pl_. Does this happen to be Euripides too-- + + Evil men evil treated is no evil? + +_Lu_. And will you slay me now for nought but words? + +_Pl_. Most certainly; our author has something on that point too: + + Unbridled lips + And folly's slips + Invite Fate's whips. + +_Lu_. Oh, very well; as you are all set on murdering me, and escape is +impossible, do at least tell me who you are, and what harm I have done +you; it must be something irreparable, to judge by your relentless +murderous pursuit. + +_Pl_. What harm you have done us, vile fellow? your own conscience and +your fine dialogues will tell you; you have called Philosophy herself +bad names, and as for us, you have subjected us to the indignity of a +public auction, and put up wise men--ay, and free men, which is more-- +for sale. We have reason to be angry; we have got a short leave of +absence from Hades, and come up against you--Chrysippus here, Epicurus +and myself, Aristotle yonder, the taciturn Pythagoras, Diogenes and +all of us that your dialogues have made so free with. + +_Lu_. Ah, I breathe again. Once hear the truth about my conduct to +you, and you will never put me to death. You can throw away those +stones. Or, no, keep them; you shall have a better mark for them +presently. + +_Pl_. This is trifling. This day thou diest; nay, even now, + + A suit of stones shalt don, thy livery due. + +_Lu_. Believe me, good gentlemen, I have been at much pains on your +behalf to slay me is to slay one who should rather be selected for +commendation a kindred spirit, a well-wisher, a man after your own +heart, a promoter, if I may be bold to say it, of your pursuits. See +to it that you catch not the tone of our latter-day philosophers, and +be thankless, petulant, and hard of heart, to him that deserves better +of you. + +_Pl_. Talk of a brazen front! So to abuse us is to oblige us. I +believe you are under the delusion that you are really talking to +slaves; after the insolent excesses of your tongue, do you propose to +chop gratitude with us? + +_Lu_. How or when was I ever insolent to you? I have always been an +admirer of philosophy, your panegyrist, and a student of the writings +you left. All that comes from my pen is but what you give me; I +deflower you, like a bee, for the behoof of mankind; and then there is +praise and recognition; they know the flowers, whence and whose the +honey was, and the manner of my gathering; their surface feeling is +for my selective art, but deeper down it is for you and your meadow, +where you put forth such bright blooms and myriad dyes, if one knows +but how to sort and mix and match, that one be not in discord with +another. Could he that had found you such have the heart to abuse +those benefactors to whom his little fame was due? then he must be a +Thamyris or Eurytus, defying the Muses who gave his gift of song, or +challenging Apollo with the bow, forgetful from whom he had his +marksmanship. + +_Pl_. All this, good sir, is quite according to the principles of +rhetoric; that is to say, it is clean contrary to the facts; your +unscrupulousness is only emphasized by this adding of insult to +injury; you confess that your arrows are from our quiver, and you use +them against us; your one aim is to abuse us. This is our reward for +showing you that meadow, letting you pluck freely, fill your bosom, +and depart. For this alone you richly deserve death. + +_Lu_. There; your ears are partial; they are deaf to the right. Why, I +would never have believed that personal feeling could affect a Plato, +a Chrysippus, an Aristotle; with you, of all men, I thought there was +dry light. But, dear sirs, do not condemn me unheard; give me trial +first. Was not the principle of your establishing--that the law of the +stronger was not the law of the State, and that differences should be +settled in court after due hearing of both sides? Appoint a judge, +then; be you my accusers, by your own mouths or by your chosen +representative; and let me defend my own case; then if I be convicted +of wrong, and that be the court's decision, I shall get my deserts, +and you will have no violence upon your consciences. But if +examination shows me spotless and irreproachable, the court will +acquit me, and then turn you your wrath upon the deceivers who have +excited you against me. + +_Pl_. Ah, every cock to his own dunghill! You think you will hoodwink +the jury and get off. I hear you are a lawyer, an advocate, an old +hand at a speech. Have you any judge to suggest who will be proof +against such an experienced corrupter as you? + +_Lu_. Oh, be reassured. The official I think of proposing is no +suspicious, dubious character likely to sell a verdict. What say you +to forming the court yourselves, with Philosophy for your President? + +_Pl_. Who is to prosecute, if we are the jury? + +_Lu_. Oh, you can do both; I am not in the least afraid; so much +stronger is my case; the defence wins, hands down. + +_Pl_. Pythagoras, Socrates, what do you think? perhaps the I man's +appeal to law is not unreasonable. + +_Soc_. No; come along, form the court, fetch Philosophy, and see what +he has to say for himself. To condemn unheard is a sadly crude +proceeding, not for us; leave that to the hasty people with whom might +is right. We shall give occasion to the enemy to blaspheme if we stone +a man without a hearing, professed lovers of justice as we are. We +shall have to keep quiet about Anytus and Meletus, my accusers, and +the jury on that occasion, if we cannot spare an hour to hear this +fellow before he suffers. _Pl_. Very true, Socrates. We will go and +fetch Philosophy. The decision shall be hers, and we will accept it, +whatever it is. + +_Lu_. Why, now, my masters, you are in a better and more law-abiding +mood. However, keep those stones, as I said; you will need them in +court. But where is Philosophy to be found? I do not know where she +lives, myself. I once spent a long time wandering about in search of +her house, wishing to make her acquaintance. Several times I met some +long-bearded people in threadbare cloaks who professed to be fresh +from her presence; I took their word for it, and asked them the way; +but they knew considerably less about it than I, and either declined +to answer, by way of concealing their ignorance, or else pointed to +one door after another. I have never been able to find the right one +to this day. + +Many a time, upon some inward prompting or external offer of guidance, +I have come to a door with the confident hope that this time I really +was right; there was such a crowd flowing in and out, all of solemn +persons decently habited and thoughtful-faced; I would insinuate +myself into the press and go in too. What I found would be a woman who +was not really natural, however skillfully she played at beauty +unadorned; I could see at once that the apparent _neglige_ of her hair +was studied for effect, and the folds of her dress not so careless as +they looked. One could tell that nature was a scheme of decoration +with her, and artlessness an artistic device. The white lead and the +rouge did not absolutely defy detection, and her talk betrayed her +real vocation; she liked her lovers to appreciate her beauty, had a +ready hand for presents, made room by her side for the rich, and +hardly vouchsafed her poorer lovers a distant glance. Now and then, +when her dress came a little open by accident, I saw that she had on a +massive gold necklace heavier than a penal collar. That was enough for +me; I would retrace my steps, sincerely pitying the unfortunates whom +she led by the--beard, and their Ixion embracings of a phantom. + +_Pl_. You are right there; the door is not conspicuous, nor generally +known. However, we need not go to her house; we will wait for her here +in the Ceramicus. I should think it is near her hour for coming back +from the Academy, and taking her walk in the Poecile; she is very +regular; to be sure, here she comes. Do you see the orderly, rather +prim lady there, with the kindly look in her eyes, and the slow +meditative walk? + +_Lu_. I see several answering the description so far as looks and walk +and clothes go. Yet among them all the real lady Philosophy can be but +one. + +_Pl_. True; but as soon as she opens her lips you will know. + +_Philos_. Dear me, what are Plato and Chrysippus and Aristotle doing +up here, and the rest of them--a living dictionary of my teachings? +Alive again? how is this? have things been going wrong down there? you +look angry. And who is your prisoner? a rifler of tombs? A murderer? a +temple-robber? + +_Pl_. Worse yet, Philosophy. He has dared to slander your most sacred +self, and all of us who have been privileged to impart anything from +you to posterity. + +_Philos_. And did you lose your tempers over abusive words? Did you +forget how Comedy handled me at the Dionysia, and how I yet counted +her a friend? Did I ever sue her, or go and remonstrate? Or did I let +her enjoy her holidays in the harmless old-fashioned way? I know very +well that a jest spoils no real beauty, but rather improves it; so +gold is polished by hard rubs, and shines all the brighter for it. But +you seem to have grown passionate and censorious. Come, why are you +strangling him like that? + +_Pl_. We have got this one day's leave, and come after him to give him +his deserts. Rumours had reached us of the things he used to say about +us in his lectures. + +_Philos_. And are you going to kill him without a trial or a hearing? +I can see he wishes to say something. + +_Pl_. No; we decided to refer it all to you. If you will accept the +task, the decision shall be yours. + +_Philos_. Sir, what is your wish? + +_Lu_. The same, dear Mistress; for none but you can find the truth. It +cost me much entreaty to get the case reserved for you. + +_Pl_. You call her Mistress now, scoundrel; the other day you were +making out Philosophy the meanest of things, when before that great +audience you let her several doctrines go for a pitiful threepence +apiece. + +_Philos_. It may be that it was not Ourself he then reviled, but some +impostors who practised vile arts in our name. + +_Pl_. The truth will soon come to light, if you will hear his defence. + +_Philos_. Come we to the Areopagus--or better, to the Acropolis, where +the panorama of Athens will be before us. + +Ladies, will you stroll in the Poecile meanwhile? I will join you when +I have given judgement. + +_Lu_. Who are these, Philosophy? methinks their appearance is seemly +as your own. + +_Philos_. This with the masculine features is Virtue; then there is +Temperance, and Justice by her side. In front is Culture; and this +shadowy creature with the indefinite complexion is Truth. + +_Lu_. I do not see which you mean. + +_Philos_. Not see her? over there, all naked and unadorned, shrinking +from observation, and always slipping out of sight. + +_Lu_. Now I just discern her. But why not bring them all with you? +there would be a fullness and completeness about that commission. Ah +yes, and I should like to brief Truth on my behalf. + +_Philos_. Well thought of; come, all of you; you will not mind sitting +through a single case--in which we have a personal interest, too? + +_Truth_. Go on, the rest of you; it is superfluous for me to hear what +I know all about before. + +_Philos_. But, Truth dear, your presence will be useful to us; you +will show us what to think. + +_Truth_. May I bring my two favourite maids, then? + +_Philos_. And as many more as you like. + +_Truth_. Come with me, Freedom and Frankness; this poor little adorer +of ours is in trouble without any real reason; we shall be able to get +him out of it. Exposure, my man, we shall not want you. + +_Lu_. Ah yes, Mistress, let us have him, of all others; my opponents +are no ordinary ruffians; they are people who make a fine show and are +hard to expose; they have always some back way out of a difficulty; we +must have Exposure. + +_Philos_. Yes, we must, indeed; and you had better bring Demonstration +too. + +_Truth_. Come all of you, as you are such important legal persons. + +_Ar_. What is this? Philosophy, he is employing Truth against us! + +_Philos_. And are Plato and Chrysippus and Aristotle afraid of her +lying on his behalf, being who she is? + +_Pl_. Oh, well, no; only he is a sad plausible rogue; he will take her +in. + +_Philos_. Never fear; no wrong will be done, with madam Justice on the +bench by us. Let us go up. + +Prisoner, your name? + +_Lu_. Parrhesiades, son of Alethion, son of Elanxicles. [Footnote: i e +Free-speaker, son of Truthful, son of Exposure.] + +_Philos_. And your country? + +_Lu_. I am a Syrian from the Euphrates, my lady. But is the question +relevant? Some of my accusers I know to be as much barbarians by blood +as myself; but character and culture do not vary as a man comes from +Soli or Cyprus, Babylon or Stagira. However, even one who could not +talk Greek would be none the worse in your eyes, so long as his +sentiments were right and just. + +_Philos_. True, the question was unnecessary. + +But what is your profession? that at least is essential. + +_Lu_. I profess hatred of pretension and imposture, lying, and pride; +the whole loathsome tribe of them I hate; and you know how numerous +they are. + +_Philos_. Upon my word, you must have your hands full at this +profession! + +_Lu_. I have; you see what general dislike and danger it brings upon +me. However, I do not neglect the complementary branch, in which love +takes the place of hate; it includes love of truth and beauty and +simplicity and all that is akin to love. But the subjects for this +branch of the profession are sadly few; those of the other, for whom +hatred is the right treatment, are reckoned by the thousand. Indeed +there is some danger of the one feeling being atrophied, while the +other is over-developed. + +_Philos_. That should not be; they run in couples, you know. Do not +separate your two branches; they should have unity in diversity. + +_Lu_. You know better than I, Philosophy. My way is just to hate a +villain, and love and praise the good. + +_Philos_. Well, well. Here we are at the appointed place. We will hold +the trial in the forecourt of Athene Polias. Priestess, arrange our +seats, while we salute the Goddess. + +_Lu_. Polias, come to my aid against these pretenders, mindful of the +daily perjuries thou hearest from them. Their deeds too are revealed +to thee alone, in virtue of thy charge. Thou hast now thine hour of +vengeance. If thou see me in evil case, if blacks be more than whites, +then cast thou thy vote and save me! + +_Philos_. So. Now we are seated, ready to hear your words. Choose one +of your number, the best accuser you may, make your charge, and bring +your proofs. Were all to speak, there would be no end. And you, +Parrhesiades, shall afterwards make your defence. + +_Ch_. Plato, none of us will conduct the prosecution better than you. +Your thoughts are heaven-high, your style the perfect Attic; grace and +persuasion, insight and subtlety, the cogency of well-ordered proof-- +all these are gathered in you. Take the spokesman's office and say +what is fitting on our behalf. Call to memory and roll in one all that +ever you said against Gorgias, Polus, Hippias, Prodicus; you have now +to do with a worse than them. Let him taste your irony; ply him with +your keen incessant questions; and if you will, perorate with the +mighty Zeus charioting his winged car through Heaven, and grudging if +this fellow get not his deserts. + +_Pl_. Nay, nay; choose one of more strenuous temper--Diogenes, +Antisthenes, Crates, or yourself, Chrysippus. It is no time now for +beauty or literary skill; controversial and forensic resource is what +we want. This Parrhesiades is an orator. + +_Diog_. Let me be accuser; no need for long speeches here. Moreover, I +was the worst treated of all; threepence was my price the other day. + +_Pl_. Philosophy, Diogenes will speak for us. But mind, friend, you +are not to represent yourself alone, but think of us all. If we have +any private differences of doctrine, do not go into that; never mind +now which of us is right, but keep your indignation for Philosophy's +wrongs and the names he has called her. Leave alone the principles we +differ about, and maintain what is common to us all. Now mark, you +stand for us all; on you our whole fame depends; shall it come out +majestic, or in the semblance he has given it? + +_Diog_. Never fear; nothing shall be omitted; I speak for all. +Philosophy may be softened by his words--she was ever gentle and +forgiving--_she_ may be minded to acquit him; but the fault shall +not be mine; I will show him that our staves are more than ornaments. + +_Philos_. Nay, take not that way; words, not bludgeons; 'tis better +so. But no delay now; your time-allowance has begun; and the court is +all attention. + +_Lu_. Philosophy, let the rest take their seats and vote with you, +leaving Diogenes as sole accuser. + +_Philos_. Have you no fears of their condemning you? + +_Lu_. None whatever; I wish to increase my majority, that is all. + +_Philos_. I commend your spirit. Gentlemen, take your seats. Now, +Diogenes. + +_Diog_. With our lives on earth, Philosophy, you are acquainted; I +need not dwell long upon them. Of myself I say nothing; but +Pythagoras, Plato, Aristotle, Chrysippus, and the rest--who knows not +the benefits that they conferred on mankind? I will come at once, +then, to the insults to which we have been subjected by the thrice +accursed Parrhesiades. He was, by his own account, an advocate; but he +has left the courts and the fame there to be won, and has availed +himself of all the verbal skill and proficiency so acquired for a +campaign of abuse against us. We are impostors and deceivers; his +audiences must ridicule and scorn us for nobodies. Did I say +'nobodies'? he has made us an abomination, rather, in the eyes of the +vulgar, and yourself with us, Philosophy. Your teachings are +balderdash and rubbish; the noblest of your precepts to us he +parodies, winning for himself applause and approval, and for us +humiliation. For so it is with the great public; it loves a master of +flouts and jeers, and loves him in proportion to the grandeur of what +he assails; you know how it delighted long ago in Aristophanes and +Eupolis, when they caricatured our Socrates on the stage, and wove +farcical comedies around him. But they at least confined themselves to +a single victim, and they had the charter of Dionysus; a jest might +pass at holiday time, and the laughing God might be well pleased. + +But this fellow gets together an upper-class audience, gives long +thought to his preparations, writes down his slanders in a thick +notebook, and uplifts his voice in vituperation of Plato, Pythagoras, +Aristotle, Chrysippus, and in short all of us; _he_ cannot plead +holiday time, nor yet any private grievance; he might perhaps be +forgiven if he had done it in self-defence; but it was he that opened +hostilities. Worst of all, Philosophy, he shelters himself under your +name, entices Dialogue from our company to be his ally and mouthpiece, +and induces our good comrade Menippus to collaborate constantly with +him; Menippus, more by token, is the one deserter and absentee on this +occasion. + +Does he not then abundantly deserve his fate? What conceivable defence +is open to him, after his public defamation of all that is noblest? On +the public which listened to him, too, the spectacle of his condign +punishment will have a healthy effect; we shall see no more ridicule +of Philosophy. Tame submission to insult would naturally enough be +taken, not for moderation, but for insensibility and want of spirit. +Who could be expected to put up with his last performance? He brought +us to market like a gang of slaves, and handed us over to the +auctioneer. Some, I believe, fetched high prices; but others went for +four or five pounds, and as for me--confound his impudence, +threepence! And fine fun the audience had out of it! We did well to be +angry; we have come from Hades; and we ask you to give us satisfaction +for this abominable outrage. + +_Resurgents_. Hear, hear! well spoken, Diogenes; well and loyally. + +_Philos_. Silence in court! Time the defence. Parrhesiades, it is now +your turn; they are timing you; so proceed. + +_Par_. Philosophy, Diogenes has been far indeed from exhausting his +material; the greater part of it, and the more strongly expressed, he +has passed by, for reasons best known to himself. I refer to +statements of mine which I am as far from denying that I made as from +having provided myself with any elaborate defence of them. Any of +these that have been omitted by him, and not previously emphasized by +myself, I propose now to quote; this will be the best way to show you +who were the persons that I sold by auction and inveighed against as +pretenders and impostors; please to concentrate your vigilance on the +truth or falsehood of my descriptions. If what I say is injurious or +severe, your censure will be more fairly directed at the perpetrators +than at the discoverer of such iniquities. I had no sooner realized +the odious practices which his profession imposes on an advocate--the +deceit, falsehood, bluster, clamour, pushing, and all the long hateful +list, than I fled as a matter of course from these, betook myself to +your dear service, Philosophy, and pleased myself with the thought of +a remainder of life spent far from the tossing waves in a calm haven +beneath your shadow. + +At my first peep into your realm, how could I but admire yourself and +all these your disciples? there they were, legislating for the perfect +life, holding out hands of help to those that would reach it, +commending all that was fairest and best; fairest and best--but a man +must keep straight on for it and never slip, must set his eyes +unwaveringly on the laws that you have laid down, must tune and test +his life thereby; and that, Zeus be my witness, there are few enough +in these days of ours to do. + +So I saw how many were in love, not with Philosophy, but with the +credit it brings; in the vulgar externals, so easy for any one to ape, +they showed a striking resemblance to the real article, perfect in +beard and walk and attire; but in life and conduct they belied their +looks, read your lessons backwards, and degraded their profession. +Then I was wroth; methought it was as though some soft womanish actor +on the tragic stage should give us Achilles or Theseus or Heracles +himself; he cannot stride nor speak out as a Hero should, but minces +along under his enormous mask; Helen or Polyxena would find him too +realistically feminine to pass for them; and what shall an invincible +Heracles say? Will he not swiftly pound man and mask together into +nothingness with his club, for womanizing and disgracing him? + +Well, these people were about as fit to represent you, and the +degradation of it all was too much for me. Apes daring to masquerade +as heroes! emulators of the ass at Cyme! The Cymeans, you know, had +never seen ass or lion; so the ass came the lion over them, with the +aid of a borrowed skin and his most awe-inspiring bray; however, a +stranger who had often seen both brought the truth to light with a +stick. But what most distressed me, Philosophy, was this: when one of +these people was detected in rascality, impropriety, or immorality, +every one put it down to philosophy, and to the particular philosopher +whose name the delinquent took in vain without ever acting on his +principles; the living rascal disgraced you, the long dead; for you +were not there in the flesh to point the contrast; so, as it was clear +enough that _his_ life was vile and disgusting, your case was given +away by association with his, and you had to share his disgrace. + +This spectacle, I say, was too much for me; I began exposing them, and +distinguishing between them and you; and for this good work you now +arraign me. So then, if I find one of the Initiated betraying and +parodying the Mysteries of the two Goddesses, and if I protest and +denounce him, the transgression will be mine? There is something wrong +there; why, at the Games, if an actor who has to present Athene or +Posidon or Zeus plays his part badly, derogating from the divine +dignity, the stewards have him whipped; well, the Gods are not angry +with them for having the officers whip the man who wears their mask +and their attire; I imagine they approve of the punishment. To play a +slave or a messenger badly is a trifling offence, but to represent +Zeus or Heracles to the spectators in an unworthy manner--that is a +crime and a sacrilege. + +I can indeed conceive nothing more extraordinary than that so many of +them should get themselves absolutely perfect in your words, and then +live precisely as if the sole object of reading and studying them had +been to reverse them in practice. All their professions of despising +wealth and appearances, of admiring nothing but what is noble, of +superiority to passion, of being proof against splendour, and +associating with its owners only on equal terms--how fair and wise and +laudable they all are! But they take pay for imparting them, they are +abashed in presence of the rich, their lips water at sight of coin; +they are dogs for temper, hares for cowardice, apes for imitativeness, +asses for lust, cats for thievery, cocks for jealousy. They are a +perfect laughing-stock with their strivings after vile ends, their +jostling of each other at rich men's doors, their attendance at +crowded dinners, and their vulgar obsequiousness at table. They swill +more than they should and would like to swill more than they do, they +spoil the wine with unwelcome and untimely disquisitions, and they +cannot carry their liquor. The ordinary people who are present +naturally flout them, and are revolted by the philosophy which breeds +such brutes. + +What is so monstrous is that every man of them says he has no needs, +proclaims aloud that wisdom is the only wealth, and directly +afterwards comes begging and makes a fuss if he is refused; it would +hardly be stranger to see one in kingly attire, with tall tiara, +crown, and all the attributes of royalty, asking his inferiors for a +little something more. When they want to get something, we hear a +great deal, to be sure, about community of goods--how wealth is a +thing indifferent--and what is gold and silver?--neither more nor less +worth than pebbles on the beach. But when an old comrade and tried +friend needs help and comes to them with his modest requirements, ah, +then there is silence and searchings of heart, unlearning of tenets +and flat renunciation of doctrines. All their fine talk of friendship, +with Virtue and The Good, have vanished and flown, who knows whither? +they were winged words in sad truth, empty phantoms, only meant for +daily conversational use. + +These men are excellent friends so long as there is no gold or silver +for them to dispute the possession of; exhibit but a copper or two, +and peace is broken, truce void, armistice ended; their books are +blank, their Virtue fled, and they so many dogs; some one has flung a +bone into the pack, and up they spring to bite each other and snarl at +the one which has pounced successfully. There is a story of an +Egyptian king who taught some apes the sword-dance; the imitative +creatures very soon picked it up, and used to perform in purple robes +and masks; for some time the show was a great success, till at last an +ingenious spectator brought some nuts in with him and threw them down. +The apes forgot their dancing at the sight, dropped their humanity, +resumed their apehood, and, smashing masks and tearing dresses, had a +free fight for the provender. Alas for the _corps de ballet_ and the +gravity of the audience! + +These people are just those apes; it is they that I reviled; and I +shall never cease exposing and ridiculing them; but about you and your +like--for there _are_, in spite of all, some true lovers of philosophy +and keepers of your laws--about you or them may I never be mad enough +to utter an injurious or rude word! Why, what could I find to say? +what is there in your lives that lends itself to such treatment? but +those pretenders deserve my detestation, as they have that of heaven. +Why, tell me, all of you, what have such creatures to do with you? Is +there a trace in their lives of kindred and affinity? Does oil mix +with water? If they grow their beards and call themselves philosophers +and look solemn, do these things make them like you? I could have +contained myself if there had been any touch of plausibility in their +acting; but the vulture is more like the nightingale than they like +philosophers. And now I have pleaded my cause to the best of my +ability. Truth, I rely upon you to confirm my words. + +_Philos_. Parrhesiades, retire to a further distance. Well, and our +verdict? How think you the man has spoken? + +_Truth_. Ah, Philosophy, while he was speaking I was ready to sink +through the ground; it was all so true. As I listened, I could +identify every offender, and I was fitting caps all the time--this is +so-and-so, that is the other man, all over. I tell you they were all +as plain as in a picture--speaking likenesses not of their bodies +only, but of their very souls. + +_Tem_. Yes, Truth, I could not help blushing at it. + +_Philos_. What say you, gentlemen? + +_Res_. Why, of course, that he is acquitted of the charge, and stands +recorded as our friend and benefactor. Our case is just that of the +Trojans, who entertained the tragic actor only to find him reciting +their own calamities. Well, recite away, our tragedian, with these +pests of ours for dramatis personae. + +_Diog_. I too, Philosophy, give him my need of praise; I withdraw my +charges, and count him a worthy friend. + +_Philos_. I congratulate you, Parrhesiades; you are unanimously +acquitted, and are henceforth one of us. + +_Par_. Your humble servant. Or no, I must find more tragic words to +fit the solemnity of the occasion: + + Victorious might + My life's path light, + And ever strew with garlands bright! + +_Vir_. Well, now we come to our second course; let us have in the +other people and try them for their insults. Parrhesiades shall accuse +them each in turn. + +_Par_. Well said, Virtue. Syllogism, my boy, put your head out over +the city and summon the philosophers. + +_Syl_. Oyez, oyez! All philosophers to the Acropolis to make their +defence before Virtue, Philosophy, and Justice. + +_Par_. The proclamation does not bring them in flocks, does it? They +have their reasons for keeping clear of Justice. And a good many of +them are too busy with their rich friends. If you want them all to +come, Syllogism, I will tell you what to say. + +_Philos_. No, no; call them yourself, Parrhesiades, in your own way. + +_Par_. Quite a simple matter. Oyez, oyez! All who profess philosophy +and hold themselves entitled to the name of philosopher shall appear +on the Acropolis for largesse; 8 pounds, with a sesame cake, to each. +A long beard shall qualify for a square of compressed figs, in +addition. Every applicant to have with him, of temperance, justice, +and self-control, any that he is in possession of, it being clearly +understood that these are not indispensable, and, of syllogisms, a +complete set of five, these being the condition precedent of wisdom. + + Two golden talents in the midst are set, + His prize who wrangles best amongst his peers. + +Just look! the ascent packed with a pushing crowd, at the very first +sound of my 8 pounds. More of them along the Pelasgicum, more by the +temple of Asclepius, a bigger crowd still over the Areopagus. Why, +positively there are a few at the tomb of Talos; and see those putting +ladders against the temple of Castor and Pollux; up they climb, +buzzing and clustering like a swarm of bees. In Homeric phrase, on +this side are exceeding many, and on that + + Ten thousand, thick as leaves and flowers in spring. + +Noisily they settle, the Acropolis is covered with them in a trice; +everywhere wallet and beard, flattery and effrontery, staves and +greed, logic and avarice. The little company which came up at the +first proclamation is swamped beyond recovery, swallowed up in these +later crowds; it is hopeless to find them, because of the external +resemblance. That is the worst of it, Philosophy; you are really open +to censure for not marking and labelling them; these impostors are +often more convincing than the true philosophers. + +_Philos_. It shall be done before long; at present let us receive +them. + +_Platon_. Platonists first! + +_Pyth_. No, no; Pythagoreans first; our master is senior. + +_Stoics_. Rubbish! the Porch is the best. + +_Peri_. Now, now, this is a question of money; Peripatetics first +there! + +_Epic_. Hand over those cakes and fig-squares; as to the money, +Epicureans will not mind waiting till the last. + +_Acad_. Where are the two talents? none can touch the Academy at a +wrangle; we will soon show you that. + +_Stoics_. Not if we know it. + +_Philos_. Cease your strife. Cynics there, no more pushing! And keep +those sticks quiet. You have mistaken the nature of this summons. We +three, Philosophy, Virtue, and Truth, are about to decide which are +the true philosophers; that done, those whose lives are found to be in +accord with our pleasure will be made happy by our award; but the +impostors who are not truly of our kin we shall crush as they deserve, +that they may no more make vain claims to what is too high for them. +Ha! you fly? In good truth they do, jumping down the crags, most of +them. Why, the Acropolis is deserted, except for--yes, a few have +stood their ground and are not afraid of the judgement. + +Attendants, pick up the wallet which yonder flying Cynic has dropped. +Let us see what it contains--beans? a book? some coarse crust? + +_Par_. Oh dear no. Here is gold; some scent; a mirror; dice. + +_Philos_. Ah, good honest man! such were his little necessaries for +the philosophic life, such his title to indulge in general abuse and +instruct his neighbours. + +_Par_. There you have them. The problem before you is, how the general +ignorance is to be dispersed, and other people enabled to discriminate +between the genuine and the other sort. Find the solution, Truth; for +indeed it concerns you; Falsehood must not prevail; shall Ignorance +shield the base while they counterfeit the good, and you never know +it? + +_Truth_. I think we had better give Parrhesiades this commission; he +has been shown an honest man, our friend and your true admirer, +Philosophy. Let him take Exposure with him and have interviews with +all who profess philosophy; any genuine scion that he finds let him +crown with olive and entertain in the Banqueting Hall; and for the +rascals--ah, how many!--who are only costume philosophers, let him +pull their cloaks off them, clip their beards short with a pair of +common goatshears, and mark their foreheads or brand them between the +eyebrows; the design on the branding iron to be a fox or an ape. + +_Philos_. Well planned, Truth. And, Parrhesiades, here is a test for +you; you know how young eagles are supposed to be tested by the sun; +well, our candidates have not got to satisfy us that they can look at +light, of course; but put gold, fame, and pleasure before their eyes; +when you see one remain unconscious and unattracted, there is your man +for the olive; but when one looks hard that way, with a motion of his +hand in the direction of the gold, first off with his beard, and then +off with him to the brander. + +_Par_. I will follow your instructions, Philosophy; you will soon find +a large majority ornamented with fox or ape, and very few with olive. +If you like, though, I will get some of them up here for you to see. + +_Philos_. What do you mean? bring them back after that stampede? + +_Par_. Oh yes, if the priestess will lend me the line I see there and +the Piraean fisherman's votive hook; I will not keep them long. + +_Priestess_. You can have them; and the rod to complete the equipment. + +_Par_. Thanks; now quickly, please, a few dried figs and a handful of +gold. + +_Priestess_. There. + +_Philos_. What _is_ all this about? + +_Priestess_. He has baited his hook with the figs and gold, and is +sitting on the parapet dangling it over the city. + +_Philos_. What _are_ you doing, Parrhesiades? do you think you are +going to fish up stones from the Pelasgicum? + +_Par_. Hush! I wait till I get a bite. Posidon, the fisherman's +friend, and you, dear Amphitrite, send me good fishing! + +Ah, a fine bass; no, it is not; it is a gilthead. + +_Expo_. A shark, you mean; there, see, he is getting near the hook, +open-mouthed too. He scents the gold; now he is close--touching--he +has it; up with him! + +_Par_. Give me a hand with the line, Exposure; here he is. Now, my +best of fishes, what do we make of you? _Salmo Cynicus_, that is what +_you_ are. Good gracious, what teeth! Aha, my brave fish, caught +snapping up trifles in the rocks, where you thought you could lurk +unobserved? But now you shall hang by the gills for every one to look +at you. Pull out hook and bait. Why, the hook is bare; he has not been +long assimilating the figs, eh? and the gold has gone down too. + +_Diog_. Make him disgorge; we want the bait for some more. + +_Par_. There, then. Now, Diogenes, do you know who it is? has the +fellow anything to do with you? + +_Diog_. Nothing whatever. + +_Par_. Well, what do you put him at? threepence was the price fixed +the other day. + +_Diog_. Too much. His flavour and his looks are intolerable--a coarse +worthless brute. Drop him head first over the rock, and catch another. +But take care your rod does not bend to breaking point. + +_Par_. No fear; they are quite light--about the weight of a gudgeon. + +_Diog_. About the weight and about the wit. However, up with them. + +_Par_. Look; what is this one? a sole? flat as a plate, thin as one of +his own fillets; he gapes for the hook; down it goes; we have him; up +he comes. + +_Diog_. What is he? + +_Expo_. His plateship would be a Platonist. + +_Pl_. You too after the gold, villain? + +_Par_. Well, Plato? what shall we do with him? + +_Pl_. Off with him from the same rock. + +_Diog_. Try again. + +_Par_. Ah, here is a lovely one coming, as far as one can judge in +deep water, all the colours of the rainbow, with gold bars across the +back. Do you see, Exposure? this is the sham Aristotle. There he is; +no, he has shied. He is having a good look round; here he comes again; +his jaws open; caught! haul up. + +_Ar_. You need not apply to me; I do not know him. + +_Par_. Very well, Aristotle; over he goes. + +Hullo! I see a whole school of them together, all one colour, and +covered with spines and horny scales, as tempting to handle as a +hedgehog. We want a net for these; but we have not got one. Well, it +will do if we pull up one out of the lot. The boldest of them will no +doubt try the hook. + +_Expo_. You had better sheathe a good bit of the line before you let +it down; else he will gorge the gold and then saw the line through. + +_Par_. There it goes. Posidon grant me a quick catch! There now! they +are fighting for the bait, a lot of them together nibbling at the +figs, and others with their teeth well in the gold. That is right; one +soundly hooked. Now let me see, what do _you_ call yourself? And yet +how absurd to try and make a fish speak; they are dumb. Exposure, tell +us who is his master, + +_Expo_. Chrysippus. + +_Par_. Ah, he must have a master with gold in his name, must he? +Chrysippus, tell me seriously, do you know these men? are you +responsible for the way they live? + +_Ch_. My dear Parrhesiades, I take it ill that you should suggest any +connexion between me and such creatures. + +_Par_. Quite right, and like you. Over he goes head first like the +others; if one tried to eat him, those spines might stick in one's +throat. + +_Philos_. You have fished long enough, Parrhesiades; there are so many +of them, one might get away with gold, hook and all, and you have the +priestess to pay. Let us go for our usual stroll; and for all you it +is time to be getting back to your place, if you are not to outstay +your leave. Parrhesiades, you and Exposure can go the rounds now, and +crown or brand as I told you. + +_Par_. Good, Philosophy. Farewell, ye best of men. Come, Exposure, to +our commission. Where shall we go first? the Academy, do you think, or +the Porch? + +_Expo_. We will begin with the Lyceum. + +_Par_. Well, it makes no difference. I know well enough that wherever +we go there will be few crowns wanted, and a good deal of branding. + +H. + + + + +VOYAGE TO THE LOWER WORLD + +_Charon. Clotho. Hermes. Shades. Rhadamanthus. Tisiphone. Lamp. Bed_ + + +_Cha_. You see how it is, Clotho; here has all been ship-shape and +ready for a start this long time; the hold baled out, the mast +stepped, the sail hoisted, every oar in its rowlock; it is no fault of +mine that we don't weigh anchor and sail. 'Tis Hermes keeps us; he +should have been here long ago. Not a passenger on board, as you may +see; and we might have made the trip three times over by this. Evening +is coming on now; and never a penny taken all day! I know how it will +be: Pluto will think _I_ have been wanting to my work. It is not I +that am to blame, but our fine gentleman of a supercargo. He is just +like any mortal: he has taken a drink of their Lethe up there, and +forgotten to come back to us. He'll be wrestling with the lads, or +playing on his lyre, or giving his precious gift of the gab a good +airing; or he's off after plunder, the rascal, for what I know: 'tis +all in the day's work with him. He is getting too independent: he +ought to remember that he belongs to us, one half of him. + +_Clo_. Well, well, Charon; perhaps he has been busy: Zeus may have had +some particular occasion for his services in the upper world; _he_ has +the use of him too, remember. + +_Cha_. That doesn't say that he should make use of him beyond what's +reasonable. Hermes is common property. We have never kept him here +when he was due to go. No, I know what it is. In these parts of ours +all is mist and gloom and darkness, and nothing to be had but asphodel +and libations and sacrificial cakes and meats. Yonder in Heaven, all's +bright, with plenty of ambrosia, and no end of nectar. Small wonder +that he likes to loiter there. When he leaves us, 'tis on wings; it is +as though he escaped from prison. But when the time comes for return, +he tramps it on foot, and has much ado to get here at all. + +_Clo_. Well, never mind now; here he comes, look, and a fine host of +passengers with him; a fine flock, rather; he hustles them along with +his staff like so many goats. But what's this? One of them is bound, +and another enjoying the joke; and there is one with a wallet slung +beside him, and a stick in his hand; a cantankerous-looking fellow; he +keeps the rest moving. And just look at Hermes! Bathed in +perspiration, and his feet covered with dust! See how he pants; he is +quite out of breath. What is the matter, Hermes? Tell us all about it; +you seem disturbed. + +_Her_. The matter is that this rascal ran away; I had to go after him, +and had well nigh played you false for this trip, I can tell you. + +_Clo_. Why, who is he? What did he want to run away for? + +_Her_. His motive is sufficiently clear: he had a preference for +remaining alive. He is some king or tyrant, as I gather from his +piteous allusions to blessedness no longer his. + +_Clo_. And the fool actually tried to run away, and thought to prolong +his life when the thread of Fate was exhausted? + +_Her_. Tried! He would have got clean away, but for that capital +fellow there with the club; he gave me a hand, and we caught and bound +him. The whole way along, from the moment that Atropus handed him over +to me, he dragged and hung back, and dug his heels into the ground: it +was no easy work getting him along. Every now and then he would take +to prayers and entreaties: Would I let him go just for a few minutes? +he would make it worth my while. Of course I was not going to do that; +it was out of the question.--Well, we had actually got to the very +pit's mouth, when somehow or other this double-dyed knave managed to +slip off, whilst I was telling over the Shades to Aeacus, as usual, +and he checking them by your sister's invoice. The consequence was, we +were one short of tally. Aeacus raised his eyebrows. 'Hermes,' he +said, 'everything in its right place: no larcenous work here, please. +You play enough of those tricks in Heaven. We keep strict accounts +here: nothing escapes us. The invoice says 1,004; there it is in black +and white. You have brought me one short, unless you say that Atropus +was too clever for you.' I coloured up at that; and then all at once I +remembered what had happened on the way, and when I looked round and +this fellow was nowhere to be seen, I knew that he must have made off, +and I set off after him along the road to the upper world, as fast as +I could go. My worthy friend here volunteered for the service; so we +made a race of it, and caught the runaway just as he got to Taenarum! +It was a near thing. + +_Clo_. There now, Charon! And we were beginning to accuse Hermes of +neglect. + +_Cha_. Well, and why are we waiting here, as if there had not been +enough delay already? + +_Clo_. True. Let them come aboard. I'll to my post by the gangway, +with my notebook, and take their names and countries as they come up, +and details of their deaths; and you can stow them away as you get +them.--Hermes, let us have those babies in first; I shall get nothing +out of them. + +_Her_. Here, skipper. Three hundred of them, including those that were +exposed. + +_Cha_. A precious haul, on my word!-These are but green grapes, +Hermes. + +_Her_. Who next, Clotho? The Unwept? + +_Clo_. Ah! I take you.--Yes, up with the old fellows. I have no time +to-day for prehistoric research. All over sixty, pass on! What's the +matter with them? They don't hear me; they are deaf with age. I think +you will have to pick them up, like the babies, and get them along +that way. + +_Her_. Here they are; fine well-matured fruit, gathered in due season; +three hundred and ninety-eight of them. + +_Cha_. Nay, nay; these are no better than raisins. + +_Clo_. Bring up the wounded next, Hermes. _Now_ I can get to work. +Tell me how you were killed. Or no; I had better look at my notes, and +call you over. Eighty-four due to be killed in battle yesterday, in +Mysia, These to include Gobares, son of Oxyartes. + +_Her_. Adsunt. + +_Clo_. The seven who killed themselves for love. Also Theagenes, the +philosopher, for love of the Megarian courtesan. + +_Her_. Here they are, look. + +_Clo_. And the rival claimants to thrones, who slew one another? + +_Her_. Here! + +_Clo_. And the one murdered by his wife and her paramour? + +_Her_. Straight in front of you. + +_Clo_. Now the victims of the law,--the cudgelled and the crucified. +And where are those sixteen who were killed by robbers? + +_Her_. Here; you may know them by their wounds. Am I to bring the +women too? + +_Clo_. Yes, certainly; and all who were shipwrecked; it is the same +kind of death. And those who died of fever, bring them too, the doctor +Agathocles and all. Then there was a Cynic philosopher, who was to +have succumbed to a dinner with Dame Hecate, eked out with sacrificial +eggs and a raw cuttlefish; where is he? + +_Cy_. Here I stand this long time, my good Clotho.--Now what had I +done to deserve such a weary spell of life? You gave me pretty nearly +a spindleful of it. I often tried to cut the thread and away; but +somehow it never would give. + +_Clo_. I left you as a censor and physician of human frailties; pass +on, and good luck to you. + +_Cy_. No, by Zeus! First let us see our captive safe on board. Your +judgement might be perverted by his entreaties. + +_Clo_. Let me see; who is he? + +_Her_. Megapenthes, son of Lacydes; tyrant. + +_Clo_. Come up, Megapenthes. + +_Me_. Nay, nay, my lady Clotho; suffer me to return for a little +while, and I will come of my own accord, without waiting to be +summoned. + +_Clo_. What do you want to go for? + +_Me_. I crave permission to complete my palace; I left the building +half-finished. + +_Clo_. Pooh! Come along. + +_Me_. Oh Fate, I ask no long reprieve. Vouchsafe me this one day, that +I may inform my wife where my great treasure lies buried. + +_Clo_. Impossible. 'Tis Fate's decree. + +_Me_. And all that money is to be thrown away? + +_Clo_. Not thrown away. Be under no uneasiness. Your cousin Megacles +will take charge of it. + +_Me_. Oh, monstrous! My enemy, whom from sheer good nature I omitted +to put to death? + +_Clo_. The same. He will survive you for rather more than forty years; +in the full enjoyment of your harem, your wardrobe, and your treasure. + +_Me_. It is too bad of you, Clotho, to hand over my property to my +worst enemy. + +_Clo_. My dear sir, it was Cydimachus's property first, surely? You +only succeeded to it by murdering him, and butchering his children +before his eyes. + +_Me_. Yes, but it was mine after that. + +_Clo_. Well, and now your term of possession expires. + +_Me_. A word in your ear, madam; no one else must hear this.--Sirs, +withdraw for a space.--Clotho, if you will let me escape, I pledge +myself to give you a quarter of a million sterling this very day. + +_Clo_. Ha, ha! So your millions are still running in your head? + +_Me_. Shall I throw in the two mixing-bowls that I got by the murder +of Cleocritus? They weigh a couple of tons apiece; refined gold! + +_Clo_. Drag him up. We shall never get him to come on board by +himself. + +_Me_. I call you all to witness! My city-wall, my docks, remain +unfinished. I only wanted five days more to complete them. + +_Clo_. Never mind. It will be another's work now. + +_Me_. Stay! One request I can make with a clear conscience. + +_Clo_. Well? + +_Me_. Suffer me only to complete the conquest of Persia; ... and to +impose tribute on Lydia; ... and erect a colossal monument to myself, +... and inscribe thereon the military achievements of my life. Then +let me die. + +_Clo_. Creature, this is no single day's reprieve: you would want +something like twenty years. + +_Me_. Oh, but I am quite prepared to give security for my expeditious +return. Nay, I could provide a substitute, if preferred--my +well-beloved! + +_Clo_. Wretch! How often have you prayed that he might survive you! + +_Me_. That was a long time ago. Now,--I see a better use for him. + +_Clo_. But he is due to be here, shortly, let me tell you. He is to be +put to death by the new sovereign. + +_Me_. Well, Clotho, I hope you will not refuse my last request. + +_Clo_. Which is? + +_Me_. I should like to know how things will be, now that I am gone. + +_Clo_. Certainly; you shall have that mortification. Your wife will +pass into the hands of Midas, your slave; he has been her gallant for +some time past. + +_Me_. A curse on him! 'Twas at her request that I gave him his +freedom. + +_Clo_. Your daughter will take her place in the harem of the present +monarch. Then all the old statues and portraits which the city set up +in your honour will be overturned,--to the entertainment, no doubt, of +the spectators. + +_Me_. And will no friend resent these doings? + +_Clo_. Who was your friend? Who had any reason to be? Need I explain +that the cringing courtiers who lauded your every word and deed were +actuated either by hope or by fear--time-servers every man of them, +with a keen eye to the main chance? + +_Me_. And these are they whose feasts rang with my name! who, as they +poured their libations, invoked every blessing on my head! Not one but +would have died before me, could he have had his will; nay, they swore +by no other name. + +_Clo_. Yes; and you dined with one of them yesterday, and it cost you +your life. It was that last cup you drank that brought you here. + +_Me_. Ah, I noticed a bitter taste.--But what was his object? + +_Clo_. Oh, you want to know too much. It is high time you came on +board. + +_Me_. Clotho, I had a particular reason for desiring one more glimpse +of daylight. I have a burning grievance! + +_Clo_. And what is that? Something of vast importance, I make no +doubt. + +_Me_. It is about my slave Carion. The moment he knew of my death, he +came up to the room where I lay; it was late in the evening; he had +plenty of time in front of him, for not a soul was watching by me; he +brought with him my concubine Glycerium (an old affair, this, I +suspect), closed the door, and proceeded to take his pleasure with +her, as if no third person had been in the room! Having satisfied the +demands of passion, he turned his attention to me. 'You little +villain,' he cried, 'many's the flogging I've had from you, for no +fault of mine!' And as he spoke he plucked out my hair and smote me on +the face. 'Away with you,' he cried finally, spitting on me, 'away to +the place of the damned!'--and so withdrew. I burned with resentment: +but there I lay stark and cold, and could do nothing. That baggage +Glycerium, too, hearing footsteps approaching, moistened her eyes and +pretended she had been weeping for me; and withdrew sobbing, and +repeating my name.--If I could but get hold of them-- + +_Clo_. Never mind what you would do to them, but come on board. The +hour is at hand when you must appear before the tribunal. + +_Me_. And who will presume to give his vote against a tyrant? + +_Clo_. Against a tyrant, who indeed? Against a Shade, Rhadamanthus +will take that liberty. He is strictly impartial, as you will +presently observe, in adapting his sentences to the requirements +of individual cases. And now, no more delay. + +_Me_. Dread Fate, let me be some common man,--some pauper! I have been +a king,--let me be a slave! Only let me live! + +_Clo_. Where is the one with the stick? Hermes, you and he must drag +him up feet foremost. He will never come up by himself. + +_Her_. Come along, my runagate. Here you are, skipper. And I say, keep +an eye-- + +_Cha_. Never fear. We'll lash him to the mast. + +_Me_. Look you, I must have the seat of honour. + +_Clo_. And why exactly? + +_Me_. Can you ask? Was I not a tyrant, with a guard of ten thousand +men? + +_Cy_. Oh, dullard! And you complain of Carion's pulling your hair! +Wait till you get a taste of this stick; you shall know what it is to +be a tyrant. + +_Me_. What, shall a Cynic dare to raise his staff against me? Sirrah, +have you forgotten the other day, when I had all but nailed you to the +cross, for letting that sharp censorious tongue of yours wag too +freely? + +_Cynic_. Well, and now it is your turn to be nailed,--to the mast. + +_Mi_. And what of me, mistress? Am I to be left out of the reckoning? +Because I am poor, must I be the last to come aboard? + +_Clo_. Who are you? + +_Mi_. Micyllus the cobbler. + +_Clo_. A cobbler, and cannot wait your turn? Look at the tyrant: see +what bribes he offers us, only for a short reprieve. It is very +strange that delay is not to your fancy too. + +_Mi_. It is this way, my lady Fate. I find but cold comfort in that +promise of the Cyclops: 'Outis shall be eaten last,' said he; but +first or last, the same teeth are waiting. And then, it is not the +same with me as with the rich. Our lives are what they call +'diametrically opposed.' This tyrant, now, was thought happy while he +lived; he was feared and respected by all: he had his gold and his +silver; his fine clothes and his horses and his banquets; his smart +pages and his handsome ladies,--and had to leave them all. No wonder +if he was vexed, and felt the tug of parting. For I know not how it +is, but these things are like birdlime: a man's soul sticks to them, +and will not easily come away; they have grown to be a part of him. +Nay, 'tis as if men were bound in some chain that nothing can break; +and when by sheer force they are dragged away, they cry out and beg +for mercy. They are bold enough for aught else, but show them this +same road to Hades, and they prove to be but cowards. They turn about, +and must ever be looking back at what they have left behind them, far +off though it be,--like men that are sick for love. So it was with the +fool yonder: as we came along, he was for running away; and now he +tires you with his entreaties. As for me, I had no stake in life; +lands and horses, money and goods, fame, statues,--I had none of them; +I could not have been in better trim: it needed but one nod from +Atropus,--I was busied about a boot at the time, but down I flung +knife and leather with a will, jumped up, and never waited to get my +shoes, or wash the blacking from my hands, but joined the procession +there and then, ay, and headed it, looking ever forward; I had left +nothing behind me that called for a backward glance. And, on my word, +things begin to look well already. Equal rights for all, and no man +better than his neighbour; that is hugely to my liking. And from what +I can learn there is no collecting of debts in this country, and no +taxes; better still, no shivering in winter, no sickness, no hard +knocks from one's betters. All is peace. The tables are turned: the +laugh is with us poor men; it is the rich that make moan, and are ill +at ease. + +_Clo_. To be sure, I noticed that you were laughing, some time ago. +What was it in particular that excited your mirth? + +_Mi_. I'll tell you, best of Goddesses. Being next door to a tyrant up +there, I was all eyes for what went on in his house; and he seemed to +me neither more nor less than a God. I saw the embroidered purple, the +host of courtiers, the gold, the jewelled goblets, the couches with +their feet of silver: and I thought, this is happiness. As for the +sweet savour that arose when his dinner was getting ready, it was too +much for me; such blessedness seemed more than human. And then his +proud looks and stately walk and high carriage, striking admiration +into all beholders! It seemed almost as if he must be handsomer than +other men, and a good eighteen inches taller. But when he was dead, he +made a queer figure, with all his finery gone; though I laughed more +at myself than at him: there had I been worshipping mere scum on no +better authority than the smell of roast meat, and reckoning happiness +by the blood of Lacedaemonian sea-snails! There was Gniphon the +usurer, too, bitterly reproaching himself for having died without ever +knowing the taste of wealth, leaving all his money to his nearest +relation and heir-at-law, the spendthrift Rhodochares, when he might +have had the enjoyment of it himself. + +When I saw him, I laughed as if I should never stop: to think of him +as he used to be, pale, wizened, with a face full of care, his fingers +the only rich part of him, for they had the talents to count,-- +scraping the money together bit by bit, and all to be squandered in no +time by that favourite of Fortune, Rhodochares!--But what are we +waiting for now? There will be time enough on the voyage to enjoy +their woebegone faces, and have our laugh out. + +_Clo_. Come on board, and then the ferryman can haul up the anchor. + +_Cha_. Now, now! What are you doing here? The boat is full. You wait +till to-morrow. We can bring you across in the morning. + +_Mi_. What right have you to leave me behind,--a shade of twenty-four +hours' standing? I tell you what it is, I shall have you up before +Rhadamanthus. A plague on it, she's moving! And here I shall be left +all by myself. Stay, though: why not swim across in their wake? No +matter if I get tired; a dead man will scarcely be drowned. Not to +mention that I have not a penny to pay my fare. + +_Clo_. Micyllus! Stop! You must not come across that way; Heaven +forbid! + +_Mi_. Ha, ha! I shall get there first, and I shouldn't wonder. + +_Clo_. This will never do. We must get to him, and pick him up.... +Hermes, give him a hand up. + +_Cha_. And where is he to sit now he is here? We are full up, as you +may see. + +_Her_. What do you say to the tyrant's shoulders? + +_Clo_. A good idea that. + +_Cha_. Up with you then; and make the rascal's back ache. And now, +good luck to our voyage! + +_Cy_. Charon, I may as well tell you the plain truth at once. The +penny for my fare is not forthcoming; I have nothing but my wallet, +look, and this stick. But if you want a hand at baling, here I am; or +I could take an oar; only give me a good stout one, and you shall have +no fault to find with me. + +_Cha_. To it, then; and I'll ask no other payment of you. + +_Cy_. Shall I tip them a stave? + +_Cha_. To be sure, if you have a sea-song about you. + +_Cy_. I have several. Look here though, an opposition is starting: a +song of lamentation. It will throw me out. + +_Sh_. Oh, my lands, my lands!--Ah, my money, my money!--Farewell, my +fine palace!--The thousands that fellow will have to squander!--Ah, my +helpless children!--To think of the vines I planted last year! Who, ah +who, will pluck the grapes?--- + +_Her_. Why, Micyllus, have _you_ never an Oh or an Ah? It is quite +improper that any shade should cross the stream, and make no moan. + +_Mi_. Get along with you. What have I to do with Ohs and Ahs? I'm +enjoying the trip! + +_Her_. Still, just a groan or two. It's expected. + +_Mi_. Well, if I must, here goes.--Farewell, leather, farewell! Ah, +Soles, old Soles!--Oh, ancient Boots!--Woe's me! Never again shall I +sit empty from morn till night; never again walk up and down, of a +winter's day, naked, unshod, with chattering teeth! My knife, my awl, +will be another's: whose, ah! whose? + +_Her_. Yes, that will do. We are nearly there. + +_Cha_. Wait a bit! Fares first, please. Your fare, Micyllus; every one +else has paid; one penny. + +_Mi_. You don't expect to get a penny out of the poor cobbler? You're +joking, Charon; or else this is what they call a 'castle in the air.' +I know not whether your penny is square or round. + +_Cha_. A fine paying trip this, I must say! However,--all ashore! I +must fetch the horses, cows, dogs, and other livestock. Their turn +comes now. + +_Clo_. You can take charge of them for the rest of the way, Hermes. I +am crossing again to see after the Chinamen, Indopatres and +Heramithres. They have been fighting about boundaries, and have killed +one another by this time. + +_Her_. Come, shades, let us get on;--follow me, I mean, in single +file. + +_Mi_. Bless me, how dark it is! Where is handsome Megillus _now_? +There would be no telling Simmiche from Phryne. All complexions are +alike here, no question of beauty, greater or less. Why, the cloak I +thought so shabby before passes muster here as well as royal purple; +the darkness hides both alike. Cyniscus, whereabouts are you? + +_Cy_. Use your ears; here I am. We might walk together. What do you +say? + +_Mi_. Very good; give me your hand.--I suppose you have been admitted +to the mysteries at Eleusis? That must have been something like this, +I should think? + +_Cy_. Pretty much. Look, here comes a torch-bearer; a grim, forbidding +dame. A Fury, perhaps? + +_Mi_. She looks like it, certainly. + +_Her_. Here they are, Tisiphone. One thousand and four. + +_Ti_. It is time we had them. Rhadamanthus has been waiting. + +_Rhad_. Bring them up, Tisiphone. Hermes, you call out their names as +they are wanted. + +_Cy_. Rhadamanthus, as you love your father Zeus, have me up first for +examination. + +_Rhad_. Why? + +_Cy_. There is a certain shade whose misdeeds on earth I am anxious to +denounce. And if my evidence is to be worth anything, you must first +be satisfied of my own character and conduct. + +_Rhad_. Who are you? + +_Cy_. Cyniscus, your worship; a student of philosophy. + +_Rhad_. Come up for judgement; I will take you first. Hermes, summon +the accusers. + +_Her_. If any one has an accusation to bring against Cyniscus here +present, let him come forward. + +_Cy_. No one stirs! + +_Rhad_. Ah, but that is not enough, my friend. Off with your clothes; +I must have a look at your brands. + +_Cy_. Brands? Where will you find them? + +_Rhad_. Never yet did mortal man sin, but he carried about the secret +record thereof, branded on his soul. + +_Cy_. Well, here I am stripped. Now for the 'brands.' + +_Rhad_. Clean from head to heel, except three or four very faint +marks, scarcely to be made out. Ah! what does this mean? Here is place +after place that tells of the iron; all rubbed out apparently, or cut +out. How do you explain this, Cyniscus? How did you get such a clean +skin again? + +_Cy_. Why, in old days, when I knew no better, I lived an evil life, +and acquired thereby a number of brands. But from the day that I began +to practise philosophy, little by little I washed out all the scars +from my soul,-thanks to the efficiency of that admirable lotion. + +_Rhad_. Off with you then to the Isles of the Blest, and the excellent +company you will find there. But we must have your impeachment of the +tyrant before you go. Next shade, Hermes! + +_Mi_. Mine is a very small affair, too, Rhadamanthus; I shall not keep +you long. I have been stripped all this time; so do take me next. + +_Rhad_. And who may you be? + +_Mi_. Micyllus the cobbler. + +_Rhad_. Very well, Micyllus. As clean as clean could be; not a mark +anywhere. You may join Cyniscus. Now the Tyrant. + +_Her_. Megapenthes, son of Lacydes, wanted! Where are you off to? This +way! You there, the Tyrant! Up with him, Tisiphone, neck and crop. + +_Rhad_. Now, Cyniscus, your accusation and your proofs. Here is the +party. + +_Cy_. There is in fact no need of an accusation. You will very soon +know the man by the marks upon him. My words however may serve to +unveil him, and to show his character in a clearer light. With the +conduct of this monster as a private citizen, I need not detain you. +Surrounded with a bodyguard, and aided by unscrupulous accomplices, he +rose against his native city, and established a lawless rule. The +persons put to death by him without trial are to be counted by +thousands, and it was the confiscation of their property that gave him +his enormous wealth. Since then, there is no conceivable iniquity +which he has not perpetrated. His hapless fellow-citizens have been +subjected to every form of cruelty and insult. Virgins have been +seduced, boys corrupted, the feelings of his subjects outraged in +every possible way. His overweening pride, his insolent bearing +towards all who had to do with him, were such as no doom of yours can +adequately requite. A man might with more security have fixed his gaze +upon the blazing sun, than upon yonder tyrant. As for the refined +cruelty of his punishments, it baffles description; and not even his +familiars were exempt. That this accusation has not been brought +without sufficient grounds, you may easily satisfy yourself, by +summoning the murderer's victims.--Nay, they need no summons; see, +they are here; they press round as though they would stifle him. Every +man there, Rhadamanthus, fell a prey to his iniquitous designs. Some +had attracted his attention by the beauty of their wives; others by +their resentment at the forcible abduction of their children; others +by their wealth; others again by their understanding, their +moderation, and their unvarying disapproval of his conduct. + +_Rhad_. Villain, what have you to say to this? + +_Me_. I committed the murders referred to. As for the rest, the +adulteries and corruptions and seductions, it is all a pack of lies. + +_Cy_. I can bring witnesses to these points too, Rhadamanthus. + +_Rhad_. Witnesses, eh? + +_Cy_. Hermes, kindly summon his Lamp and Bed. They will appear in +evidence, and state what they know of his conduct. + +_Her_. Lamp and Bed of Megapenthes, come into court. Good, they +respond to the summons. + +_Rhad_. Now, tell us all you know about Megapenthes. Bed, you speak +first. + +_Bed_. All that Cyniscus said is true. But really, Mr. Rhadamanthus, I +don't quite like to speak about it; such strange things used to happen +overhead. + +_Rhad_. Why, your unwillingness to speak is the most telling evidence +of all!--Lamp, now let us have yours. + +_Lamp_. What went on in the daytime I never saw, not being there. As +for his doings at night, the less said the better. I saw some very +queer things, though, monstrous queer. Many is the time I have stopped +taking oil on purpose, and tried to go out. But then he used to bring +me close up. It was enough to give any lamp a bad character. + +_Rhad_. Enough of verbal evidence. Now, just divest yourself of that +purple, and we will see what you have in the way of brands. Goodness +gracious, the man's a positive network! Black and blue with them! Now, +what punishment can we give him? A bath in Pyriphlegethon? The tender +mercies of Cerberus, perhaps? + +_Cy_. No, no. Allow me,--I have a novel idea; something that will just +suit him. + +_Rhad_. Yes? I shall be obliged to you for a suggestion. + +_Cy_. I fancy it is usual for departed spirits to take a draught of +the water of Lethe? + +_Rhad_. Just so. + +_Cy_. Let him be the sole exception. + +_Rhad_. What is the idea in that? + +_Cy_. His earthly pomp and power for ever in his mind; his fingers +ever busy on the tale of blissful items;--'tis a heavy sentence! + +_Rhad_. True. Be this the tyrant's doom. Place him in fetters at +Tantalus's side,--never to forget the things of earth. + +F. + + + + +THE END + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Works, V1, by Lucian of Samosata + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORKS, V1 *** + +This file should be named 6327.txt or 6327.zip + +Produced by Beth Constantine, Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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