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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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