No More Learning

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_.