No More Learning

My altars are cold as Plato's _Laws_
or Chrysippus's _Syllogisms_. '

So talking, we reached the spot where he was to sit and listen to
the prayers. There was a row of openings with lids like well-
covers, and a chair of gold by each. Zeus took his seat at the
first, lifted off the lid and inclined his ear. From every quarter
of Earth were coming the most various and contradictory petitions;
for I too bent down my head and listened. Here are specimens. 'O
Zeus, that I might be king! ' 'O Zeus, that my onions and garlic
might thrive! ' 'Ye Gods, a speedy death for my father! ' Or again,
'Would that I might succeed to my wife's property! ' 'Grant that my
plot against my brother be not detected. ' 'Let me win my suit. '
'Give me an Olympic garland. ' Of those at sea, one prayed for a
north, another for a south wind; the farmer asked for rain, the
fuller for sun. Zeus listened, and gave each prayer careful
consideration, but without promising to grant them all;

Our Father this bestowed, and that withheld.

Righteous prayers he allowed to come up through the hole, received
and laid them down at his right, while he sent the unholy ones
packing with a downward puff of breath, that Heaven might not be
defiled by their entrance. In one case I saw him puzzled; two men
praying for opposite things and promising the same sacrifices, he
could not tell which of them to favour, and experienced a truly
Academic suspense of judgement, showing a reserve and equilibrium
worthy of Pyrrho himself.

The prayers disposed of, he went on to the next chair and opening,
and attended to oaths and their takers. These done with, and
Hermodorus the Epicurean annihilated, he proceeded to the next
chair to deal with omens, prophetic voices, and auguries. Then came
the turn of the sacrifice aperture, through which the smoke came up
and communicated to Zeus the name of the devotee it represented.
After that, he was free to give his wind and weather orders:--Rain
for Scythia to-day, a thunderstorm for Libya, snow for Greece. The
north wind he instructed to blow in Lydia, the west to raise a
storm in the Adriatic, the south to take a rest; a thousand bushels
of hail to be distributed over Cappadocia.

His work was now pretty well completed, and as it was just dinner
time, we went to the banquet hall. Hermes received me, and gave me
my place next to a group of Gods whose alien origin left them in a
rather doubtful position--Pan, the Corybants, Attis, and Sabazius.
I was supplied with bread by Demeter, wine by Dionysus, meat by
Heracles, myrtle-blossoms by Aphrodite, and sprats by Posidon. But
I also got a sly taste of ambrosia and nectar; good-natured
Ganymede, as often as he saw that Zeus's attention was engaged
elsewhere, brought round the nectar and indulged me with a half-
pint or so. The Gods, as Homer (who I think must have had the same
opportunities of observation as myself) somewhere says, neither eat
bread nor drink the ruddy wine; they heap their plates with
ambrosia, and are nectar-bibbers; but their choicest dainties are
the smoke of sacrifice ascending with rich fumes, and the blood of
victims poured by their worshippers round the altars. During
dinner, Apollo harped, Silenus danced his wild measures, the Muses
uprose and sang to us from Hesiod's _Birth of Gods_, and the
first of Pindar's odes. When we had our fill and had well drunken,
we slumbered, each where he was.

Slept all the Gods, and men with plumed helms,
That livelong night; but me kind sleep forsook;

for I had much upon my mind; most of all, how came it that Apollo,
in all that time, had never grown a beard? and how was night
possible in Heaven, with the sun always there taking his share of
the good cheer? So I had but a short nap of it. And in the morning
Zeus arose, and bade summon an assembly.

When all were gathered, he thus commenced:--'The immediate occasion
of my summoning you is the arrival of this stranger yesterday. But
I have long intended to take counsel with you regarding the
philosophers, and now, urged by Selene and her complaints, I have
determined to defer the consideration of the question no longer.
There is a class which has recently become conspicuous among men;
they are idle, quarrelsome, vain, irritable, lickerish, silly,
puffed up, arrogant, and, in Homeric phrase, vain cumberers of the
earth. These men have divided themselves into bands, each dwelling
in a separate word-maze of its own construction, and call
themselves Stoics, Epicureans, Peripatetics, and more farcical
names yet. Then they take to themselves the holy name of Virtue,
and with uplifted brows and flowing beards exhibit the deceitful
semblance that hides immoral lives; their model is the tragic
actor, from whom if you strip off the mask and the gold-spangled
robe, there is nothing left but a paltry fellow hired for a few
shillings to play a part.

'Nevertheless, quite undeterred by their own characters, they scorn
the human and travesty the divine; they gather a company of
guileless youths, and feed them with solemn chatter upon Virtue and
quibbling verbal puzzles; in their pupils' presence they are all
for fortitude and temperance, and have no words bad enough for
wealth and pleasure: when they are by themselves, there is no limit
to their gluttony, their lechery, their licking of dirty pence. But
the head and front of their offending is this: they neither work
themselves nor help others' work; they are useless drones,

Of no avail in council nor in war;

which notwithstanding, they censure others; they store up poisoned
words, they con invectives, they heap their neighbours with
reproaches; their highest honours are for him who shall be loudest
and most overbearing and boldest in abuse.

'Ask one of these brawling bawling censors, And what do _you_
do? in God's name, what shall we call _your_ contribution to
progress? and he would reply, if conscience and truth were anything
to him: I consider it superfluous to sail the sea or till the earth
or fight for my country or follow a trade; but I have a loud voice
and a dirty body; I eschew warm water and go barefoot through the
winter; I am a Momus who can always pick holes in other people's
coats; if a rich man keeps a costly table or a mistress, I make it
my business to be properly horrified; but if my familiar friend is
lying sick, in need of help and care, I am not aware of it. Such,
your Godheads, is the nature of this vermin.

'There is a special insolence in those who call themselves
Epicureans; these go so far as to lay their hands on our character;
we take no interest in human affairs, they say, and in fact have
nothing to do with the course of events. And this is a serious
question for you; if once they infect their generation with this
view, you will learn what hunger means. Who will sacrifice to you,
if he does not expect to profit by it? As to Selene's complaints,
you all heard them yesterday from this stranger's lips. And now
decide upon such measures as shall advantage mankind and secure
your own safety. '

Zeus had no sooner closed his speech than clamour prevailed, all
crying at once: Blast! burn! annihilate! to the pit with them! to
Tartarus! to the Giants! Zeus ordered silence again, and then,
'Your wishes,' he said, 'shall be executed; they shall all be
annihilated, and their logic with them. But just at present
chastisement is not lawful; you are aware that we are now in the
four months of the long vacation; the formal notice has lately been
issued. In the spring of next year, the baleful levin-bolt shall
give them the fate they deserve. '

He spake, and sealed his word with lowering brows.

'As to Menippus,' he added, 'my pleasure is this. He shall be
deprived of his wings, and so incapacitated for repeating his
visit, but shall to-day be conveyed back to Earth by Hermes. ' So
saying, he dismissed the assembly. The Cyllenian accordingly lifted
me up by the right ear, and yesterday evening deposited me in the
Ceramicus. And now, friend, you have all the latest from Heaven. I
must be off to the Poecile, to let the philosophers loitering there
know the luck they are in.




THE DOUBLE INDICTMENT


_Zeus. Hermes. Justice. Pan. Several Athenians. The Academy. The
Porch. Epicurus. Virtue. Luxury. Diogenes. Rhetoric. A Syrian.
Dialogue_


_Zeus_. A curse on all those philosophers who will have it
that none but the Gods are happy! If they could but know what we
have to put up with on men's account, they would not envy us our
nectar and our ambrosia. They take Homer's word for it all,--the
word of a blind quack; 'tis he who pronounces us blessed, and
expatiates on heavenly glories, he who could not see in front of
his own nose. Look at the Sun, now. He yokes that chariot, and is
riding through the heavens from morn till night, clothed in his
garment of fire, and dispensing his rays abroad; not so much
breathing-space as goes to the scratching of an ear; once let his
horses catch him napping, and they have the bit between their teeth
and are off 'cross country, with the result that the Earth is
scorched to a cinder. The Moon is no better off: she is kept up
into the small hours to light the reveller and the diner-out upon
their homeward path. And then Apollo,--_he_ has his work cut
out for him: with such a press of oracular business, it is much if
he has any ears left to hear with: he is wanted at Delphi; the next
minute, he must be off to Colophon; then away to Xanthus; then back
at a trot to Clarus; then it is Delos, then Branchidae;--in short,
he is at the beck of every priestess who has taken her draught of
holy water, munched her laurel-leaf, and made the tripod rock; it
is now or never; if he is not there that minute to reel off the
required oracle, his credit is gone. The traps they set for him
too! He must have a dog's nose for lamb and tortoise in the pot, or
his Lydian customer [Footnote: See _Croesus_ in Notes. ] departs,
laughing him to scorn. As for Asclepius, he has no peace for his
patients: his eyes are acquainted with horror, and his hands with
loathsomeness; another's sickness is his pain. To say nothing of
the work that the Winds have to get through, what with sowing and
winnowing and getting the ships along; or of Sleep, always on the
wing, with Dream at his side all night giving a helping hand. Men
have to thank us for all this: every one of us contributes his
share to their well-being. And the others have an easy time of it,
compared to me, to me the King and Father of all. The annoyances I
have to put up with! the worry of thinking of all these things at
once! I must keep an eye on all the rest, to begin with, or they
would be making some silly mistake; and as for the work I have to
do with my own hands, there is no end to it; such complications! it
is all I can do to get through with it. It is not as if I had only
the main issues to attend to, the rain and hail and wind and
lightning, and as soon as I had arranged them could sit down,
feeling that my own particular work was over: no, besides all that,
I must be looking every way at once, Argus-eyed for theft and
perjury, as for sacrifice; the moment a libation has been poured,
it is for me to locate the savoury smoke that rises; for me it is
to hear the cry of the sick man and of the sailor; at one and the
same moment, a hecatomb demands my presence at Olympia, a battle in
the plain of Babylon; hail is due in Thrace, dinner in Ethiopia;
'tis too much! And do what I may, it is hard to give satisfaction.
Many is the time that all besides, both Gods and men of plumed
helm, have slept the long night through, while unto Zeus sweet
slumber has not come nigh. If I nod for a moment, behold, Epicurus
is justified, and our indifference to the affairs of Earth made
manifest; and if once men lend an ear to that doctrine, the
consequences will be serious: our temples will go ungarlanded; the
streets will be redolent no longer of roast meat, the bowl no
longer yield us libation; our altars will be cold, sacrifice and
oblation will be at an end, and utter starvation must ensue. Hence
like a pilot I stand up at the helm all alone, tiller in hand,
while every soul on board is asleep, and probably drunk; no rest,
no food for me, while I ponder in my mind and breast on the common
safety; and my reward? to be called the Lord of all! I should like
to ask those philosophers who assign us the monopoly of
blessedness, when they suppose we find time for nectar and ambrosia
among our ceaseless occupations. Look at the mildewed, cob-webbed
stack of petitions mouldering on their files in our chancery, for
want of time to attend to them: look only at the cases pending
between men and the various Arts and Sciences; venerable relics,
some of them! Angry protests against the delays of the law reach me
from all quarters; men cannot understand that it is from no neglect
of ours that these judgements have been postponed; it is simply
pressure of business--pressure of blessedness, if they will have it
so.

_Her_. I myself, father, have heard a great deal of dissatisfaction
expressed on Earth, only I did not like to mention it to you.
However, as you have introduced the subject yourself, I may say
that the discontent is general: men do not venture to express their
resentment openly, but there are mutterings in corners about the
delay. It is high time they were all put out of their suspense, for
better or for worse.

_Zeus_. And what would you have me do, my boy? hold a session
at once? or shall we say next year?

_Her_. Oh, at once, by all means.

_Zeus_. To work, then: fly down, and make proclamation in the
following terms: All litigant parties to assemble this day on
Areopagus: Justice to assign them their juries from the whole body
of the Athenians, the number of the jury to be in proportion to the
amount of damages claimed; any party doubting the justice of his
sentence to have the right of appeal to me. And you, my daughter,
take your seat by the side of the Dread Goddesses [Footnote: See
_Erinnyes_ in Notes. ], cast lots for the order of the trials,
and superintend the formation of juries.

_Just_. You would have me return to Earth, once more to be
driven thence in ignominious flight by the intolerable taunts of
Injustice?

_Zeus_. Hope for better things. The philosophers have quite
convinced every one by this time of your superiority. The son of
Sophroniscus was particularly strong on your merits: he laid it
down that Justice was the highest Good.

_Just_. Yes; and very serviceable his dissertations on Justice
were to him, were they not, when he was handed over to the Eleven,
and thrown into prison, and drank the hemlock? Poor man, he had not
even time to sacrifice the cock he owed to Asclepius. His accusers
were too much for him altogether, and _their_ philosophy had
Injustice for its object.

_Zeus_. But in those days philosophy was not generally known,
and had but few exponents; it is not surprising that the scale
turned in favour of Anytus and Meletus. But now it is different:
look at the number of cloaks and sticks and wallets that are about;
everywhere philosophers, long-bearded, book in hand, maintain your
cause; the public walks are filled with their contending hosts, and
every man of them calls Virtue his nurse. Numbers have abandoned
their former professions to pounce upon wallet and cloak; these
ready-made philosophers, carpenters once or cobblers, now duly
tanned to the true Ethiopian hue, are singing your praises high and
low. 'He that falls on shipboard strikes wood,' says the proverb;
and the eye, wheresoever it fall, will light on philosophers.

_Just_. Yes, father, but they frighten me: they quarrel so
among themselves; and when they talk about me, they only expose
their own little minds. And, from what I hear, most of those who
make so free with my name show no inclination at all to put my
principles into practice. I may count upon finding their doors
closed to _me_: Injustice has been beforehand with me.

_Zeus_. Come, child, they are not all so bad, and if you can
find a few honest men it will be something. Now, off with you both,
and see if you can't get a few cases settled up to-day.

_Her_. Well, Justice: yonder is our road: straight in the line
for Sunium, to the foot of Hymettus, taking Parnes on our right;
you see those two hills? You have quite forgotten the way, I
suppose, in all this time? Now, now: weeping? why so vexed? There
is nothing to fear. Things are quite different in these days: the
Scirons and Pityocampteses and Busirises and Phalarises who used to
frighten you so are all dead: Wisdom, the Academy, the Porch, now
hold sway everywhere. They are all your admirers; their talk is all
of you; they yearn to see you descend to them once more.

_Just_. Tell me, Hermes,--you if any one must know the truth;
you are generally busy either in the Gymnasium or else in the
Market, making proclamation to the Assembly,--what are the
Athenians like now? shall I be able to live with them?

_Her_. We are brother and sister, it is only right that I
should tell you the truth. Well then, Philosophy has made a
considerable change for the better in most of them; at the worst,
their respect for the cloth is some check on their misdeeds. At the
same time--not to conceal anything--you will find villains amongst
them; and you will find some who are neither quite philosophers nor
quite knaves. The fact is, Philosophy's dyeing process is still
going on. Some have absorbed the full quantity of dye; these are
perfect specimens of her art, and show no admixture of other
colours; with them you will find a ready reception. But others,
owing to their original impurities, are not yet completely
saturated; they are better than the generality of mankind, but they
are not all they should be; they are piebald or spotted or dappled.
Others again there are who have contented themselves with merely
rubbing a fingertip in the soot on the outside of the cauldron, and
smearing themselves with that; after which they consider the dyeing
process complete. But you, of course, will only live with the best.
Meanwhile, here we are, close to Attica; we must now leave Sunium
on our right, and diverge towards the Acropolis. Good: _terra
firma_. You had better sit down somewhere here on the Areopagus,
in the direction of the Pnyx, and wait whilst I make Zeus's
proclamation. I shall go up into the Acropolis; that will be the
easiest way of making every one hear the summons.

_Just_. Before you go, Hermes, tell me who this is coming
along; a man with horns and a pipe and shaggy legs.

_Her_. Why, you must know Pan, most festive of all Dionysus's
followers? He used to live on Mount Parthenius: but at the time of
the Persian expedition under Datis, when the barbarians landed at
Marathon, he volunteered in the Athenian service; and ever since
then he has had the cave yonder at the foot of the Acropolis, a
little past the Pelasgicum, and pays his taxes like any other
naturalized foreigner. Seeing us so near at hand, I suppose he is
coming up to make his compliments.

_Pan_. Hail, Justice and Hermes!

_Just_. Hail, Pan; chief of Satyrs in dance and song, and most
gallant of Athens' soldiers!

_Pan_. But what brings you here, Hermes?

_Her_. Justice will explain; I must be off to the Acropolis on
my errand.

_Just_. Zeus has sent me down, Pan, to preside in the law-
court. --And how do you like Athens?

_Pan_. Well, the fact is, I am a good deal disappointed: they
do not treat me with the consideration to which I am entitled,
after repelling that tremendous barbarian invasion. All they do is
to come up to my cave two or three times a year with a particularly
high-scented goat, and sacrifice him: I am permitted to look on
whilst they enjoy the feast, and am complimented with a perfunctory
dance. However, there is some joking and merrymaking on the
occasion, and that I find rather fun.

_Just_. And, Pan,--have they become more virtuous under the
hands of the philosophers?

_Pan_. Philosophers? Oh! people with beards just like mine;
sepulchral beings, who are always getting together and jabbering?

_Just_. Those are they.

_Pan_. I can't understand a word they say; their philosophy is
too much for me. I am mountain-bred; smart city-language is not in
my line; sophists and philosophers are not known in Arcadia. I am a
good hand at flute or pipe; I can mind goats, I can dance, I can
fight at a pinch, and that is all. But I hear them all day long,
bawling out a string of hard words about virtue, and nature, and
ideas, and things incorporeal.
They are good enough friends when
the argument begins, but their voices mount higher and higher as
they go on, and end in a scream; they get more and more excited,
and all try to speak at once; they grow red in the face, their
necks swell, and their veins stand out, for all the world like a
flute-player on a high note. The argument is turned upside down,
they forget what they are trying to prove, and finally go off
abusing one another and brushing the sweat from their brows;
victory rests with him who can show the boldest front and the
loudest voice, and hold his ground the longest. The people,
especially those who have nothing better to do, adore them, and
stand spellbound under their confident bawlings. For all that I
could see, they were no better than humbugs, and I was none too
pleased at their copying my beard. If there were any use in their
noise, if the talking did any good to the public, I should not have
a word to say against them: but, to tell you the plain unvarnished
truth, I have more than once looked out from my peep-hole yonder
and seen them--

_Just_. Hush, Pan: was not that Hermes making the
proclamation?

_Pan_. I thought so.

_Her. Be it known to all men that we purpose on this seventh day
of March to hold a court of justice, and Fortune defend the right!
All litigant parties to assemble on Areopagus, where Justice will
assign the juries and preside over the trials in person. The juries
to be taken from the whole Athenian people; the pay to be sixpence
for each case; the number of jurors to vary with the nature of the
accusation. Any parties who had commenced legal proceedings and
have died in the interim to be sent up by Aeacus. Any party
doubting the justice of his sentence may appeal; the appeal to he
heard by Zeus. _

_Pan_. Talk about noise! how they shout! And what a hurry they
are in to get here! See how one hales another up the hill! Here
comes Hermes himself. Well, I leave you to your juries and your
evidence; you are accustomed to it. I will return to my cave, and
there play over one of those amorous ditties with which I love to
upbraid Echo. As to rhetoric and law-pleadings, I hear enough of
those every day in this very court of Areopagus.

_Her_. We had better summon the parties, Justice.

_Just_. True. Only look at the crowd, bustling and buzzing
about the hilltop like a swarm of wasps!

_First Ath_. I've got you, curse you.

_Second Ath_. Pooh! a trumped-up charge.

_Third Ath_. At last! you shall get your deserts this time.

_Fourth Ath_. Your villany shall be unmasked.

_Fifth Ath_. My jury first, Hermes.

_Sixth Ath_. Come along: into court with you, rascal.

_Seventh Ath_. You needn't throttle me.

_Just_. Do you know what I think we had better do, Hermes? Put
off all the other cases for to-morrow, and only take to-day the
charges brought by Arts, Professions, and Philosophies. Pick me out
all of that kind.

_Her_. Drink _v_. the Academy, _re_ Polemon,
kidnapped.

_Just_. Seven jurors.

_Her_. Porch _v_. Pleasure. Defendant is charged with
seducing Dionysius, plaintiff's admirer.

_Just_. Five will do for that.

_Her_. Luxury _v_. Virtue, _re_ Aristippus.

_Just_. Five again.

_Her_. Bank _v_. Diogenes, alleged to have run away from
plaintiff's service.

_Just_. Three only.

_Her_. Painting _v_. Pyrrho. Desertion from the ranks.

_Just_. That will want nine.

_Her_. What about these two charges just brought against a
rhetorician?

_Just_. No, those can stand over; we must work off the arrears
first.

_Her_. Well, these cases are of just the same kind. They are
not old ones, it is true, but they are very like those you have
taken, and might fairly be heard with them.

_Just_. That looks rather like favouritism, Hermes. However,
as you like; only these must be the last; we have got quite enough.
What are they?

_Her_. Rhetoric _v_. a Syrian [Footnote: i. e. Lucian. See
Volume I, Introduction, Section I, Life. ], for neglect; Dialogue
_v_. the same, for assault.

_Just_. And who is this Syrian? There is no name given.

_Her_. That is all: the Syrian rhetorician; he can have a jury
without having a name.

_Just_. So! here on Areopagus I am to give juries to outsiders, who
ought to be tried on the other side of the Euphrates? Well, give
him eleven, and they can hear both cases.

_Her_. That's right; it will save a lot of expense.

_Just_. First case: the Academy _versus_ Drink. Let the
jury take their seats. Mark the time,' Hermes. Drink, open the
case. . . . Not a word? can you do nothing but nod? --Hermes, go and
see what is the matter with her.

_Her_. She says she cannot plead, she would only be laughed
at; wine has tied her tongue. As you see, she can hardly stand.

_Just_. Well, there are plenty of able counsel present, ready
to shout themselves hoarse for sixpence; let her employ one of
them.

_Her_. No one will have anything to do with such a client in
open court. But she makes a very reasonable proposal.

_Just_. Yes?

_Her_. The Academy is always ready to take both sides; she
makes a point of contradicting herself plausibly. 'Let her speak
first on my behalf,' says Drink, 'and then on her own. '

_Just_. A novel form of procedure. However, go on, Academy;
speak on both sides, if you find it so easy.

_Acad_. First, gentlemen of the jury, let me state the case
for 16 Drink, as her time is now being taken.

My unfortunate client, gentlemen, has been cruelly wronged: I have
torn from her the one slave on whose loyalty and affection she
could rely, the only one who saw nothing censurable in her conduct.
I allude to Polemon, whose days, from morning to night, were spent
in revel; who in broad daylight sought the publicity of the Market
in the company of music--girls and singers; ever drunk, ever
headachy, ever garlanded. In support of my statements, I appeal to
every man in Athens to say whether he had ever seen Polemon sober.
But in an evil hour for him, his revels, which had brought him to
so many other doors, brought him at length to my own. I laid hands
on him, tore him away by brute force from the plaintiff, and made
him my own; giving him water to drink, teaching him sobriety, and
stripping him of his garlands. He, who should have been sitting
over his wine, now became acquainted with the perverse, the
harassing, the pernicious quibbles of philosophy. Alas! the ruddy
glow has departed from his cheek; he is pale and wasted; his songs
are all forgotten; there are times when he will sit far on into the
night, tasting neither meat nor drink, while he reels out the
meaningless platitudes with which I have so abundantly supplied
him. I have even incited him to attack the character of my client,
and to utter a thousand base insinuations against her good fame.

The case of Drink is now complete. I proceed to state my own. Let
my time be taken.

_Just_. What will the defendant have to say to that, I wonder?
Give her the same time allowance.

_Acad_. Nothing, gentlemen of the jury, could sound more
plausible than the arguments advanced by my learned friend on her
client's behalf. And yet, if you will give me your favourable
attention, I shall convince you that the plaintiff has suffered no
wrong at my hands. This Polemon, whom plaintiff claims as her
servant, so far from having any natural connexion with her, is one
whose excellent parts entitle him to claim kinship and affinity
with myself. He was still a boy, his powers were yet unformed, when
plaintiff, aided and abetted by Pleasure--ever her partner in
crime--seized upon him, and delivered him over into the clutches of
debauchery and dissipation, under whose corrupt influence the
unfortunate young man utterly lost all sense of shame. Those very
facts that plaintiff supposed to be so many arguments in her favour
will be found, on the contrary, to make for my own case. From early
morning (as my learned friend has just observed) did the misguided
Polemon, with aching head and garlanded, stagger through the open
market to the noise of flutes, never sober, brawling with all he
met; a reproach to his ancestors and his city, a laughing-stock to
foreigners. One day he reached my door. He found it open: I was
discoursing to a company of my disciples, as is my wont, upon
virtue and temperance. He stood there, with the flute-girl at his
side and the garlands on his head, and sought at first to drown our
conversation with his noisy outcry. But we paid no heed to him, and
little by little our words produced a sobering effect, for Drink
had not entire possession of him: he bade the flute-girl cease,
tore off his garlands, and looked with shame at his luxurious
dress. Like one waking from deep sleep, he saw himself as he was,
and repented of his past life; the flush of drunkenness faded and
vanished from his cheek, and was succeeded by a blush of shame; at
last, not (as plaintiff would have you believe) in response to any
invitation of mine, nor under any compulsion, but of his own free
will, and in the conviction of my superiority, he renounced his
former mistress there and then, and entered my service. Bring him
into court. You shall see for yourselves, gentlemen, what he has
become under my treatment. Behold that Polemon whom I found drunk,
unable to speak or stand upright, an object of ridicule: I turned
him from his evil ways; I taught him sobriety; and I present him to
you, no longer a slave, but a decent and orderly citizen, a credit
to his nation. In conclusion let me say that the change I have
wrought in him has won me the gratitude not only of Polemon himself
but of all his friends. Which of us has been the more profitable
companion for him, it is now for the jury to decide.

_Her_. Come, gentlemen, get up and give your votes. There is
no time to be lost; we have other cases coming on.

_Just_. Academy wins, by six votes to one.

_Her_. I am not surprised to find that Drink has one adherent.
Jurors in the case of Porch _v_. Pleasure _re_ Dionysius take
their seats! The lady of the frescoes [Footnote: See _Poecile_ in
Notes. ] may begin; her time is noted.

_Porch_. I am not ignorant, gentlemen, of the attractions of
my adversary. I see how your eyes turn in her direction; she has
your smiles, I your contempt, because my hair is close-cropped, and
my expression stern and masculine. Yet if you will give me a fair
hearing, I fear her not; for justice is on my side. Nay, it is with
these same meretricious attractions of hers that my accusation is
concerned: it was by her specious appearance that she beguiled the
virtuous Dionysius, my lover, and drew him to herself. The present
case is in fact closely allied with that of Drink and the Academy,
with which your colleagues have just dealt. The question now before
you is this: are men to live the lives of swine, wallowing in
voluptuousness, with never a high or noble thought: or are they to
set virtue above enjoyment, and follow the dictates of freedom and
philosophy, fearing not to grapple with pain, nor seeking the
degrading service of pleasure, as though happiness were to be found
in a pot of honey or a cake of figs? These are the baits my
adversary throws out for fools, and toil the bugbear with which she
frightens them: her artifices seldom fail; and among her victims is
this unfortunate whom she has constrained to rebel against my
authority. She had to wait till she found him on a sick-bed; never
while he was himself would he have listened to her proposals. Yet
what right have _I_ to complain? She spares not even the Gods;
she impugns the wisdom of Providence; she is guilty of blasphemy;
you have a double penalty to impose, if you would be wise. I hear
that she has not even been at the pains of preparing a defence:
Epicurus is to speak for her! She does not stand upon ceremony with
you, gentlemen. --Ask her what Heracles would have been, what your
own Theseus would have been, if they had listened to the voice of
pleasure, and shrunk back from toil: their toils were the only
check upon wickedness, which else must have overrun the whole
Earth. And now I have done; I am no lover of long speeches. Yet if
my adversary would consent to answer a few questions, her
worthlessness would soon appear. Let me remind you, gentlemen, of
your oath: give your votes in accordance with that oath, and
believe not Epicurus, when he tells you that the Gods take no
thought for the things of Earth.

_Her_. Stand down, madam. Epicurus will now speak on behalf of
pleasure.

_Epi_. I shall not detain you long, gentlemen of the jury;
there is no occasion for me to do so. If it were true, as the
plaintiff asserts, that Dionysius was her lover, and that my client
by means of drugs or incantations had constrained him to withdraw
his affections from the plaintiff and transfer them to herself,--if
this were true, then my client might fairly be accused of
witchcraft, nor could her wicked practices upon her rival's
admirers escape condemnation. On the other hand, if a free citizen
of a free state, deciding for himself in a matter where the law is
silent, takes a violent aversion to this lady's person, concludes
that the blessedness with which she promises to crown his labours
is neither more nor less than moonshine, and accordingly makes the
best of his way out of her labyrinthine maze of argument into the
attractive arms of Pleasure, bursts the bonds of verbal subtlety,
exchanges credulity for common sense, and pronounces, with great
justice, that toil is toilsome, and that pleasure is pleasant,--I
ask, is this shipwrecked mariner to be excluded from the calm haven
of his desire, and hurled back headlong into a sea of toil?