The world
conspires
against me.
Lucian
Then it was a king; then a pauper, and presently a
satrap, and after that came horse, jackdaw, frog, and I know not
how many more; there is no reckoning them up in detail. Latterly, I
have been a cock several times. I liked the life; many is the king,
many the pauper and millionaire, with whom I took service in that
capacity before I came to you. In your lamentations about poverty,
and your admiration of the rich, I find an unfailing source of
entertainment; little do you know what those rich have to put up
with! If you had any idea of their anxieties, you would laugh to
think how you had been deceived as to the blessedness of wealth.
_Mi_. Well, Pythagoras,--or is there any other name you
prefer? I shall throw you out, perhaps, if I keep on calling you
different things?
_Cock_. Euphorbus or Pythagoras, Aspasia or Crates, it is all
the same to me; one is as much my name as another. Or stay: not to
be wanting in respect to a bird whose humble exterior contains so
many souls, you had better use the evidence of your own eyes and
call me Cock.
_Mi_. Then, cock, as you have tried wellnigh every kind of
life, you can next give me a clear description of the lives of rich
and poor respectively; we will see if there was any truth in your
assertion, that I was better off than the rich.
_Cock_. Well now, look at it this way. To begin with, you are
very little troubled with military matters. Suppose there is talk
of an invasion: _you_ are under no uneasiness about the destruction
of your crops, or the cutting-up of your gardens, or the ruin of
your vines; at the first sound of the trumpet (if you even hear
it), all you have to think of is, how to convey your own person out
of harm's way. Well, the rich have got to provide for that too, and
they have the mortification into the bargain of looking on while
their lands are being ravaged. Is a war-tax to be levied? It all
falls on them. When you take the field, theirs are the posts of
honour--and danger: whereas you, with no worse encumbrance than
your wicker shield, are in the best of trim for taking care of
yourself; and when the time comes for the general to offer up a
sacrifice of thanksgiving for his victory, your presence may be
relied on at the festive scene.
Then again, in time of peace, you, as one of the commons, march up
to the Assembly to lord it over the rich, who tremble and crouch
before you, and seek to propitiate you with grants. They must
labour, that you may be supplied with baths and games and
spectacles and the like to your satisfaction; you are their censor
and critic, their stern taskmaster, who will not always hear before
condemning; nay, you may give them a smart shower of stones, if the
fancy takes you, or confiscate their property. The informer's
tongue has no terrors for you; no burglar will scale or undermine
_your_ walls in search of gold; you are not troubled with
book-keeping or debt-collecting; you have no rascally steward to
wrangle with; none of the thousand worries of the rich distract
you. No, you patch your shoe, and you take your tenpence; and at
dusk up you jump from your bench, get a bath if you are in the
humour for it, buy yourself a haddock or some sprats or a few heads
of garlic, and make merry therewith; Poverty, best of philosophers,
is your companion, and you are seldom at a loss for a song. And
what is the result? Health and strength, and a hardiness that sets
cold at defiance. Your work keeps you keen-set; the ills that seem
insuperable to other men find a tough customer in you. Why, no
serious sickness ever comes near you: fever, perhaps, lays a light
hand on you now and again; you let him have his way for a day or
two, and then you are up again, and shake the pest off; he beats a
hasty retreat, not liking the look of a man who drinks cold water
at that rate, and has such a short way with the doctors. But look
at the rich: name the disease to which these creatures are not
subjected by their intemperance; gout, consumption, pneumonia,
dropsy,--they all come of high feeding. Some of these men are like
Icarus: they fly too high, they get near the sun, not realizing
that their wings are fastened with wax; and then some day there is
a great splash, and they have disappeared headlong into the deep.
Others there are who follow Daedalus's example; such minds eschew
the upper air, and keep their wax within splashing distance of the
sea; these generally get safely to their journey's end.
_Mi_. Shrewd, sensible fellows.
_Cock_. Yes, but among the others you may see some ugly
shipwrecks. Croesus is plucked of his feathers, and mounts a pyre
for the amusement of the Persians. A tyranny capsizes, and the
lordly Dionysius is discovered teaching Corinthian children their
alphabet.
_Mi_. You tell me, cock, that you have been a king yourself:
now how did _you_ find the life? I expect you had a pleasant
time of it, living on the very fat of the land?
_Cock_. Do not remind me of that miserable existence. A
pleasant time! So people thought, no doubt: I knew better; it was
vexation upon vexation.
_Mi_. You surprise me. How should that be? It sounds unlikely.
_Cock_. The country over which I ruled was both extensive and
fertile. Its population and the beauty of its cities alike entitled
it to the highest consideration. It possessed navigable rivers and
excellent harbours. My army was large, my pike-men numerous, my
cavalry in a high state of efficiency; it was the same with my
fleet; and my wealth was beyond calculation. No circumstance of
kingly pomp was wanting; gold plate in abundance, everything on the
most magnificent scale. I could not leave my palace without
receiving the reverential greetings of the public, who looked on me
as a God, and crowded together to see me pass; some enthusiasts
would even betake themselves to the roofs of the houses, lest any
detail of my equipage, clothes, crown or attendants should escape
them. I could make allowance for the ignorance of my subjects, but
this did not prevent me from pitying myself, when I reflected on
the vexations and worries of my position. I was like those colossal
statues, the work of Phidias, Myron or Praxiteles: they too look
extremely well from outside: 'tis Posidon with his trident, Zeus
with his thunderbolt, all ivory and gold: but take a peep inside,
and what have we? One tangle of bars, bolts, nails, planks, wedges,
with pitch and mortar and everything that is unsightly; not to
mention a possible colony of rats or mice. There you have royalty.
_Mi_. But you have not told me what is the mortar, what the
bolts and bars and other unsightlinesses that lurk behind a throne.
Admiration, dominion, divine honours,--these no doubt fit your
simile; there is a touch of the godlike about them. But now let me
have the inside of your colossus.
_Cock_. And where shall I begin? With fear and suspicion? The
resentments of courtiers and the machinations of conspirators?
Scant and broken sleep, troubled dreams, perplexities, forebodings?
Or again with the hurry of business--fiscal--legal--military?
Orders to be issued, treaties to be drawn up, estimates to be
formed? As for pleasure, such a thing is not to be dreamt of; no,
one man must think for all, toil incessantly for all. The Achaean
host is snoring to a man:
But sweet sleep came not nigh to Atreus' son,
Who pondered many things within his heart.
Lydian Croesus is troubled because his son is dumb; Persian
Artaxerxes, because Clearchus is raising a host for Cyrus;
Dionysius, because Dion whispers in Syracusan ears; Alexander,
because Parmenio is praised. Perdiccas has no peace for Ptolemy,
Ptolemy none for Seleucus. And there are other griefs than these:
his favourite is cold; his concubine loves another; there is talk
of a rebellion; there has been muttering among a half-dozen of his
guards. And the bitterness of it is, that his nearest and dearest
are those whom he is most called on to distrust; from them he must
ever look for harm. One we see poisoned by his son, another by his
own favourite; and a third will probably fare no better.
_Mi_. Whew! I like not this, my cock. Methinks there is safety
in bent backs and leather-cutting, and none in golden loving-cups;
I will pledge no man in hemlock or in aconite. All _I_ have to
fear is that my knife may slip out of the line, and draw a drop or
two from my fingers: but your kings would seem to sit down to
dinner with Death, and to lead dogs' lives into the bargain. They
go at last; and then they are more like play-actors than anything
else--like such a one as you may see taking the part of Cecrops or
Sisyphus or Telephus. He has his diadem and his ivory-hilted sword,
his waving hair and spangled cloak: but accidents will happen,--
suppose he makes a false step: down he comes on the middle of the
stage, and the audience roars with laughter. For there is his mask,
crumpled up, diadem and all, and his own bloody coxcomb showing
underneath it; his legs are laid bare to the knees, and you see the
dirty rags inside his fine robe, and the great lumbering buskins.
Ha, ha, friend cock, have I learnt to turn a simile already? Well,
there are my views on tyranny. Now for the horses and dogs and
frogs and fishes: how did you like that kind of thing?
_Cock_. Your question would take a long time to answer; more
time than we can spare. But--to sum up my experience in two words--
every one of these creatures has an easier life of it than man.
Their aims, their wants, are all confined to the body: such a thing
as a tax-farming horse or a litigant frog, a jackdaw sophist, a
gnat confectioner, or a cock pander, is unknown; they leave such
things to humanity.
_Mi_. It may be as you say. But, cock (I don't mind making a
clean breast of it to you), I have had a fancy all my life for
being rich, and I am as bad as ever; nay, worse, for there is the
dream, still flaunting its gold before my eyes; and that confounded
Simon, too,--it chokes me to think of him rolling in luxury.
_Cock_. I'll put that right. It is still dark, get up and come
with me. You shall pay a visit to Simon and other rich men, and see
how things stand with them.
_Mi_. But the doors are locked. Would you have me break in?
_Cock_. Oh no; but I have a certain privilege from Hermes, my
patron: you see my longest tail-feather, the curling one that hangs
down,--
_Mi_. There are two curling ones that hang down.
_Cock_. The one on the right. By allowing any one to pluck out
that feather and carry it, I give him the power, for as long as I
like, of opening all doors and seeing everything, himself unseen.
_Mi_. Cock, you are a positive conjurer. Only give me the
feather, and it shall not be long before Simon's wealth shifts its
quarters; I'll slip in and make a clean sweep. His teeth shall tug
leather again.
_Cock_. That must not be. I have my instructions from Hermes,
and if my feather is put to any such purpose, I am to call out and
expose the offender.
_Mi_. Hermes, of all people, grudge a man a little thievery?
I'll not believe it of him. However, let us start; I promise not to
touch the gold . . . if I can help it.
_Cock_. You must pluck out the feather first. . . . What's this?
You have taken both!
_Mi_. Better to be on the safe side. And it would look so bad
to have one half of your tail gone and not the other.
_Cock_. Well. Where shall we go first? To Simon's?
_Mi_. Yes, yes, Simon first. Simonides it is, nowadays; two
syllables is not enough for him since he has come into money. . . .
Here we are; what do I do next?
_Cock_. Apply the feather to the bolt.
_Mi_. So. Heracles! it might be a key; the door flies open.
_Cock_. Walk in; you go first. Do you see him? He is sitting
up over his accounts.
_Mi_. See him! I should think I did. What a light! That lamp
wants a drink. And what makes Simon so pale? He is shrivelled up to
nothing. That comes of his worries; there is nothing else the
matter with him, that I have heard of.
_Cock_. Listen, and you will understand.
_Si_. That seventeen thousand in the hole under my bed is safe
enough; not a soul saw me that time. But I believe Sosylus caught
me hiding the four thousand under the manger: he is not the most
industrious of grooms, he was never too fond of work; but he
_lives_ in that stable now. And I expect that is not all that
has gone, by a long way. What was Tibius doing with those fine
great kippers yesterday? And they tell me he paid no less a sum
than four shillings for a pair of earrings for his wife. God help
me, it's _my_ money they're flinging about. I'm not easy about
all that plate either: what if some one should knock a hole in the
wall, and make off with it? Many is the one that envies me, and has
an eye on my gold; my neighbour Micyllus is as bad as any of them.
_Mi_. Hear, hear! He is as bad as Simon; he walks off with
other people's pudding-basins under his arm.
_Cock_. Hush! we shall be caught.
_Si_. There's nothing like sitting up, and having everything
under one's own eye. I'll jump up and go my rounds. . . . You there!
you burglar! I see you. . . . Ah, it is but a post; all is well. I'll
pull up the gold and count it again; I may have missed something
just now. . . . Hark! a step! I knew it; he is upon me! I am beset
with enemies.
The world conspires against me. Where is my dagger?
Only let me catch . . . --I'll put the gold back.
_Cock_. There: now you have seen Simon at home. Let us go on
to another house, while there is still some of the night left.
_Mi_. The worm! what a life! I wish all my enemies such wealth
as his. I'll just lend him a box on the ear, and then I am ready.
_Si_. Who was that? Some one struck me! Ah! I am robbed!
_Mi_. Whine away, Simon, and sit up of nights till you are as
yellow as the gold you clutch. --I should like to go to Gniphon the
usurer's next; it is quite close. . . . Again the door opens to us.
_Cock_. He is sitting up too, look. It is an anxious time with
him; he is reckoning his interest. His fingers are worn to the
bone. Presently he will have to leave all this, and become a
cockroach, or a gnat, or a bluebottle.
_Mi_. Senseless brute! it will hardly be a change for the
worse. He, like Simon, is pretty well thinned down by his
calculations. Let us try some one else.
_Cock_. What about your friend Eucrates? See, the door stands
open; let us go in.
_Mi_. An hour ago, all this was mine!
_Cock_. Still the golden dream! --Look at the hoary old
reprobate: with one of his own slaves!
_Mi_. Monstrous! And his wife is not much better; she takes
her paramour from the kitchen.
_Cock_. Well? Is the inheritance to your liking? Will you have
it all?
_Mi_. I will starve first. Good-bye to gold and high living.
Preserve me from my own servants, and I will call myself rich on
twopence-halfpenny.
_Cock_. Well, well, we must be getting home; see, it is just
dawn. The rest must wait for another day.
ICAROMENIPPUS, AN AERIAL EXPEDITION
_Menippus and a Friend_
_Me_. Let me see, now. First stage, Earth to Moon, 350 miles.
Second stage, up to the Sun, 500 leagues. Then the third, to the
actual Heaven and Zeus's citadel, might be put at a day's journey
for an eagle in light marching order.
_Fr_. In the name of goodness, Menippus, what are these
astronomical sums you are doing under your breath? I have been
dogging yon for some time, listening to your suns and moons,
queerly mixed up with common earthly stages and leagues.
_Me_. Ah, you must not be surprised if my talk is rather
exalted and ethereal; I was making out the mileage of my journey.
_Fr_. Oh, I see; using stars to steer by, like the
Phoenicians?
_Me_. Oh no, travelling among them.
_Fr_. Well, to be sure, it must have been a longish dream, if
you lost yourself in it for whole leagues.
_Me_. Dream, my good man? I am just come straight from Zeus.
Dream, indeed!
_Fr_. How? What? Our Menippus a literal godsend from Heaven?
_Me_. 'Tis even so; from very Zeus I come this day, eyes and
ears yet full of wonders. Oh, doubt, if you will. That my fortune
should pass belief makes it only the more gratifying.
_Fr_. Nay, my worshipful Olympian, how should I, 'a man
begotten, treading this poor earth,' doubt him who transcends the
clouds, a 'denizen of Heaven,' as Homer says? But vouchsafe to tell
me how you were uplifted, and where you got your mighty tall
ladder. There is hardly enough of Ganymede in your looks to suggest
that you were carried off by the eagle for a cupbearer.
_Me_. I see you are bent on making a jest of it. Well, it
_is_ extraordinary; you could not be expected to see that it
is not a romance. The fact is, I needed neither ladder nor amorous
eagle; I had wings of my own.
_Fr_. Stranger and stranger! this beats Daedalus. What, you
turned into a hawk or a crow on the sly?
_Me_. Now that is not a bad shot; it was Daedalus's wing trick
that I tried.
_Fr_. Well, talk of foolhardiness! did you like the idea of
falling into the sea, and giving us a _Mare Menippeum_ after
the precedent of the _Icarium_?
_Me_. No fear. Icarus's feathers were fastened with wax, and
of course, directly the sun warmed this, he moulted and fell. No
wax for me, thank you.
_Fr_. How did you manage, then? I declare I shall be believing
you soon, if you go on like this.
_Me_. Well, I caught a fine eagle, and also a particularly
powerful vulture, and cut off their wings above the shoulder-
joint. . . . But no; if you are not in a hurry, I may as well give you
the enterprise from the beginning.
_Fr_. Do, do; I am rapt aloft by your words already, my mouth
open for your _bonne bouche_; as you love me, leave me not in
those upper regions hung up by the ears!
_Me_. Listen, then; it would be a sorry sight, a friend
deserted, with his mouth open, and _sus. per aures_. --Well, a
very short survey of life had convinced me of the absurdity and
meanness and insecurity that pervade all human objects, such as
wealth, office, power. I was filled with contempt for them,
realized that to care for them was to lose all chance of what
deserved care, and determined to grovel no more, but fix my gaze
upon the great All. Here I found my first problem in what wise men
call the universal order; I could not tell how it came into being,
who made it, what was its beginning, or what its end. But my next
step, which was the examination of details, landed me in yet worse
perplexity. I found the stars dotted quite casually about the sky,
and I wanted to know what the sun was. Especially the phenomena of
the moon struck me as extraordinary, and quite passed my
comprehension; there must be some mystery to account for those many
phases, I conjectured. Nor could I feel any greater certainty about
such things as the passage of lightning, the roll of thunder, the
descent of rain and snow and hail.
In this state of mind, the best I could think of was to get at the
truth of it all from the people called philosophers; they of course
would be able to give it me. So I selected the best of them, if
solemnity of visage, pallor of complexion and length of beard are
any criterion--for there could not be a moment's doubt of their
soaring words and heaven-high thoughts--and in their hands I placed
myself. For a considerable sum down, and more to be paid when they
should have perfected me in wisdom, I was to be made an airy
metaphysician and instructed in the order of the universe.
Unfortunately, so far from dispelling my previous ignorance, they
perplexed me more and more, with their daily drenches of beginnings
and ends, atoms and voids, matters and forms. My greatest
difficulty was that, though they differed among themselves, and all
they said was full of inconsistency and contradiction, they
expected me to believe them, each pulling me in his own direction.
_Fr_. How absurd that wise men should quarrel about facts, and
hold different opinions on the same things!
_Me_. Ah, but keep your laughter till you have heard something
of their pretentious mystifications. To begin with, their feet are
on the ground; they are no taller than the rest of us 'men that
walk the earth'; they are no sharper-sighted than their neighbours,
some of them purblind, indeed, with age or indolence; and yet they
say they can distinguish the limits of the sky, they measure the
sun's circumference, take their walks in the supra-lunar regions,
and specify the sizes and shapes of the stars as though they had
fallen from them; often one of them could not tell you correctly
the number of miles from Megara to Athens, but has no hesitation
about the distance in feet from the sun to the moon. How high the
atmosphere is, how deep the sea, how far it is round the earth--
they have the figures for all that; and moreover, they have only to
draw some circles, arrange a few triangles and squares, add certain
complicated spheres, and lo, they have the cubic contents of
Heaven.
Then, how reasonable and modest of them, dealing with subjects so
debatable, to issue their views without a hint of uncertainty; thus
it must be and it shall be; _contra gentes_ they will have it
so; they will tell you on oath the sun is a molten mass, the moon
inhabited, and the stars water-drinkers, moisture being drawn up by
the sun's rope and bucket and equitably distributed among them.
How their theories conflict is soon apparent; next-door neighbours?
no, they are miles apart. In the first place, their views of the
world differ. Some say it had no beginning, and cannot end; others
boldly talk of its creator and his procedure; what particularly
entertained me was that these latter set up a contriver of the
universe, but fail to mention where he came from, or what he stood
on while about his elaborate task, though it is by no means obvious
how there could be place or time before the universe came into
being.
_Fr_. You really do make them out very audacious conjurers.
_Me_. My dear fellow, I wish I could give you their lucubrations on
ideas and incorporeals, on finite and infinite. Over that point,
now, there is fierce battle; some circumscribe the All, others will
have it unlimited. At the same time they declare for a plurality of
worlds, and speak scornfully of others who make only one. And there
is a bellicose person who maintains that war is the father of the
universe. [Footnote: Variously attributed to Heraclitus, who denies
the possibility of repose, and insists that all things are in a
state of flux; and to Empedocles, who makes all change and becoming
depend on the interaction of the two principles, attraction and
repulsion. ]
As to Gods, I need hardly deal with that question. For some of them
God is a number; some swear by dogs and geese and plane-trees.
[Footnote: Socrates made a practice of substituting these for the
names of Gods in his oaths. ] Some again banish all other Gods, and
attribute the control of the universe to a single one; I got rather
depressed on learning how small the supply of divinity was. But I
was comforted by the lavish souls who not only make many, but
classify; there was a First God, and second and third classes of
divinity. Yet again, some regard the divine nature as unsubstantial
and without form, while others conceive it as a substance. Then
they were not all disposed to recognize a Providence; some relieve
the Gods of all care, as we relieve the superannuated of their
civic duties; in fact, they treat them exactly like supernumeraries
on the stage. The last step is also taken, of saying that Gods do
not exist at all, and leaving the world to drift along without a
master or a guiding hand.
Well, when I heard all this, I dared not disbelieve people whose
voices and beards were equally suggestive of Zeus. But I knew not
where to turn for a theory that was not open to exception, nor
combated by one as soon as propounded by another. I found myself in
the state Homer has described; many a time I would vigorously start
believing one of these gentlemen;
But then came second thoughts.
So in my distress I began to despair of ever getting any knowledge
about these things on earth; the only possible escape from
perplexity would be to take to myself wings and go up to Heaven.
Partly the wish was father to the thought; but it was confirmed by
Aesop's Fables, from which it appears that Heaven is accessible to
eagles, beetles, and sometimes camels. It was pretty clear that I
could not possibly develop feathers of my own. But if I were to
wear vulture's or eagle's wings--the only kinds equal to a man's
weight--I might perhaps succeed. I caught the birds, and
effectually amputated the eagle's right, and the vulture's left
wing. These I fastened together, attached them to my shoulders with
broad thick straps, and provided grips for my hands near the end of
the quill-feathers. Then I made experiments, first jumping up and
helping the jump by flapping my hands, or imitating the way a goose
raises itself without leaving the ground and combines running with
flight. Finding the machine obedient, I next made a bolder venture,
went up the Acropolis, and launched myself from the cliff right
over the theatre.
Getting safely to the bottom that time, my aspirations shot up
aloft. I took to starting from Parnes or Hymettus, flying to
Geranea, thence to the top of the Acrocorinthus, and over Pholoe
and Erymanthus to Taygetus. The training for my venture was now
complete; my powers were developed, and equal to a lofty flight; no
more fledgeling essays for me. I went up Olympus, provisioning
myself as lightly as possible. The moment was come; I soared
skywards, giddy at first with that great void below, but soon
conquering this difficulty. When I approached the Moon, long after
parting from the clouds, I was conscious of fatigue, especially in
the left or vulture's wing. So I alighted and sat down to rest,
having a bird's-eye view of the Earth, like the Homeric Zeus,
Surveying now the Thracian horsemen's land,
Now Mysia,
and again, as the fancy took me, Greece or Persia or India. From
all which I drew a manifold delight.
_Fr_. Oh well, Menippus, tell me all about it. I do not want
to miss a single one of your travel experiences; if you picked up
any stray information, let me have that too. I promise myself a
great many facts about the shape of the Earth, and how everything
on it looked to you from your point of vantage.
_Me_. And you will not be disappointed there, friend. So do
your best to get up to the Moon, with my story for travelling
companion and showman of the terrestrial scene.
Imagine yourself first descrying a tiny Earth, far smaller than the
Moon looks; on turning my eyes down, I could not think for some
time what had become of our mighty mountains and vast sea. If I had
not caught sight of the Colossus of Rhodes and the Pharus tower, I
assure you I should never have made out the Earth at all. But their
height and projection, with the faint shimmer of Ocean in the sun,
showed me it must be the Earth I was looking at. Then, when once I
had got my sight properly focused, the whole human race was clear
to me, not merely in the shape of nations and cities, but the
individuals, sailing, fighting, ploughing, going to law; the women,
the beasts, and in short every breed 'that feedeth on earth's
foison. '
_Fr_. Most unconvincing and contradictory. Just now you were
searching for the Earth, it was so diminished by distance, and if
the Colossus had not betrayed it, you would have taken it for
something else; and now you develop suddenly into a Lynceus, and
distinguish everything upon it, the men, the beasts, one might
almost say the gnat-swarms. Explain, please.
_Me_. Why, to be sure! how did I come to leave out so essential a
particular? I had made out the Earth, you see, but could not
distinguish any details; the distance was so great, quite beyond
the scope of my vision; so I was much chagrined and baffled. At
this moment of depression--I was very near tears--who should come
up behind me but Empedocles the physicist? His complexion was like
charcoal variegated with ashes, as if he had been baked. I will not
deny that I felt some tremors at the sight of him, taking him for
some lunar spirit.
satrap, and after that came horse, jackdaw, frog, and I know not
how many more; there is no reckoning them up in detail. Latterly, I
have been a cock several times. I liked the life; many is the king,
many the pauper and millionaire, with whom I took service in that
capacity before I came to you. In your lamentations about poverty,
and your admiration of the rich, I find an unfailing source of
entertainment; little do you know what those rich have to put up
with! If you had any idea of their anxieties, you would laugh to
think how you had been deceived as to the blessedness of wealth.
_Mi_. Well, Pythagoras,--or is there any other name you
prefer? I shall throw you out, perhaps, if I keep on calling you
different things?
_Cock_. Euphorbus or Pythagoras, Aspasia or Crates, it is all
the same to me; one is as much my name as another. Or stay: not to
be wanting in respect to a bird whose humble exterior contains so
many souls, you had better use the evidence of your own eyes and
call me Cock.
_Mi_. Then, cock, as you have tried wellnigh every kind of
life, you can next give me a clear description of the lives of rich
and poor respectively; we will see if there was any truth in your
assertion, that I was better off than the rich.
_Cock_. Well now, look at it this way. To begin with, you are
very little troubled with military matters. Suppose there is talk
of an invasion: _you_ are under no uneasiness about the destruction
of your crops, or the cutting-up of your gardens, or the ruin of
your vines; at the first sound of the trumpet (if you even hear
it), all you have to think of is, how to convey your own person out
of harm's way. Well, the rich have got to provide for that too, and
they have the mortification into the bargain of looking on while
their lands are being ravaged. Is a war-tax to be levied? It all
falls on them. When you take the field, theirs are the posts of
honour--and danger: whereas you, with no worse encumbrance than
your wicker shield, are in the best of trim for taking care of
yourself; and when the time comes for the general to offer up a
sacrifice of thanksgiving for his victory, your presence may be
relied on at the festive scene.
Then again, in time of peace, you, as one of the commons, march up
to the Assembly to lord it over the rich, who tremble and crouch
before you, and seek to propitiate you with grants. They must
labour, that you may be supplied with baths and games and
spectacles and the like to your satisfaction; you are their censor
and critic, their stern taskmaster, who will not always hear before
condemning; nay, you may give them a smart shower of stones, if the
fancy takes you, or confiscate their property. The informer's
tongue has no terrors for you; no burglar will scale or undermine
_your_ walls in search of gold; you are not troubled with
book-keeping or debt-collecting; you have no rascally steward to
wrangle with; none of the thousand worries of the rich distract
you. No, you patch your shoe, and you take your tenpence; and at
dusk up you jump from your bench, get a bath if you are in the
humour for it, buy yourself a haddock or some sprats or a few heads
of garlic, and make merry therewith; Poverty, best of philosophers,
is your companion, and you are seldom at a loss for a song. And
what is the result? Health and strength, and a hardiness that sets
cold at defiance. Your work keeps you keen-set; the ills that seem
insuperable to other men find a tough customer in you. Why, no
serious sickness ever comes near you: fever, perhaps, lays a light
hand on you now and again; you let him have his way for a day or
two, and then you are up again, and shake the pest off; he beats a
hasty retreat, not liking the look of a man who drinks cold water
at that rate, and has such a short way with the doctors. But look
at the rich: name the disease to which these creatures are not
subjected by their intemperance; gout, consumption, pneumonia,
dropsy,--they all come of high feeding. Some of these men are like
Icarus: they fly too high, they get near the sun, not realizing
that their wings are fastened with wax; and then some day there is
a great splash, and they have disappeared headlong into the deep.
Others there are who follow Daedalus's example; such minds eschew
the upper air, and keep their wax within splashing distance of the
sea; these generally get safely to their journey's end.
_Mi_. Shrewd, sensible fellows.
_Cock_. Yes, but among the others you may see some ugly
shipwrecks. Croesus is plucked of his feathers, and mounts a pyre
for the amusement of the Persians. A tyranny capsizes, and the
lordly Dionysius is discovered teaching Corinthian children their
alphabet.
_Mi_. You tell me, cock, that you have been a king yourself:
now how did _you_ find the life? I expect you had a pleasant
time of it, living on the very fat of the land?
_Cock_. Do not remind me of that miserable existence. A
pleasant time! So people thought, no doubt: I knew better; it was
vexation upon vexation.
_Mi_. You surprise me. How should that be? It sounds unlikely.
_Cock_. The country over which I ruled was both extensive and
fertile. Its population and the beauty of its cities alike entitled
it to the highest consideration. It possessed navigable rivers and
excellent harbours. My army was large, my pike-men numerous, my
cavalry in a high state of efficiency; it was the same with my
fleet; and my wealth was beyond calculation. No circumstance of
kingly pomp was wanting; gold plate in abundance, everything on the
most magnificent scale. I could not leave my palace without
receiving the reverential greetings of the public, who looked on me
as a God, and crowded together to see me pass; some enthusiasts
would even betake themselves to the roofs of the houses, lest any
detail of my equipage, clothes, crown or attendants should escape
them. I could make allowance for the ignorance of my subjects, but
this did not prevent me from pitying myself, when I reflected on
the vexations and worries of my position. I was like those colossal
statues, the work of Phidias, Myron or Praxiteles: they too look
extremely well from outside: 'tis Posidon with his trident, Zeus
with his thunderbolt, all ivory and gold: but take a peep inside,
and what have we? One tangle of bars, bolts, nails, planks, wedges,
with pitch and mortar and everything that is unsightly; not to
mention a possible colony of rats or mice. There you have royalty.
_Mi_. But you have not told me what is the mortar, what the
bolts and bars and other unsightlinesses that lurk behind a throne.
Admiration, dominion, divine honours,--these no doubt fit your
simile; there is a touch of the godlike about them. But now let me
have the inside of your colossus.
_Cock_. And where shall I begin? With fear and suspicion? The
resentments of courtiers and the machinations of conspirators?
Scant and broken sleep, troubled dreams, perplexities, forebodings?
Or again with the hurry of business--fiscal--legal--military?
Orders to be issued, treaties to be drawn up, estimates to be
formed? As for pleasure, such a thing is not to be dreamt of; no,
one man must think for all, toil incessantly for all. The Achaean
host is snoring to a man:
But sweet sleep came not nigh to Atreus' son,
Who pondered many things within his heart.
Lydian Croesus is troubled because his son is dumb; Persian
Artaxerxes, because Clearchus is raising a host for Cyrus;
Dionysius, because Dion whispers in Syracusan ears; Alexander,
because Parmenio is praised. Perdiccas has no peace for Ptolemy,
Ptolemy none for Seleucus. And there are other griefs than these:
his favourite is cold; his concubine loves another; there is talk
of a rebellion; there has been muttering among a half-dozen of his
guards. And the bitterness of it is, that his nearest and dearest
are those whom he is most called on to distrust; from them he must
ever look for harm. One we see poisoned by his son, another by his
own favourite; and a third will probably fare no better.
_Mi_. Whew! I like not this, my cock. Methinks there is safety
in bent backs and leather-cutting, and none in golden loving-cups;
I will pledge no man in hemlock or in aconite. All _I_ have to
fear is that my knife may slip out of the line, and draw a drop or
two from my fingers: but your kings would seem to sit down to
dinner with Death, and to lead dogs' lives into the bargain. They
go at last; and then they are more like play-actors than anything
else--like such a one as you may see taking the part of Cecrops or
Sisyphus or Telephus. He has his diadem and his ivory-hilted sword,
his waving hair and spangled cloak: but accidents will happen,--
suppose he makes a false step: down he comes on the middle of the
stage, and the audience roars with laughter. For there is his mask,
crumpled up, diadem and all, and his own bloody coxcomb showing
underneath it; his legs are laid bare to the knees, and you see the
dirty rags inside his fine robe, and the great lumbering buskins.
Ha, ha, friend cock, have I learnt to turn a simile already? Well,
there are my views on tyranny. Now for the horses and dogs and
frogs and fishes: how did you like that kind of thing?
_Cock_. Your question would take a long time to answer; more
time than we can spare. But--to sum up my experience in two words--
every one of these creatures has an easier life of it than man.
Their aims, their wants, are all confined to the body: such a thing
as a tax-farming horse or a litigant frog, a jackdaw sophist, a
gnat confectioner, or a cock pander, is unknown; they leave such
things to humanity.
_Mi_. It may be as you say. But, cock (I don't mind making a
clean breast of it to you), I have had a fancy all my life for
being rich, and I am as bad as ever; nay, worse, for there is the
dream, still flaunting its gold before my eyes; and that confounded
Simon, too,--it chokes me to think of him rolling in luxury.
_Cock_. I'll put that right. It is still dark, get up and come
with me. You shall pay a visit to Simon and other rich men, and see
how things stand with them.
_Mi_. But the doors are locked. Would you have me break in?
_Cock_. Oh no; but I have a certain privilege from Hermes, my
patron: you see my longest tail-feather, the curling one that hangs
down,--
_Mi_. There are two curling ones that hang down.
_Cock_. The one on the right. By allowing any one to pluck out
that feather and carry it, I give him the power, for as long as I
like, of opening all doors and seeing everything, himself unseen.
_Mi_. Cock, you are a positive conjurer. Only give me the
feather, and it shall not be long before Simon's wealth shifts its
quarters; I'll slip in and make a clean sweep. His teeth shall tug
leather again.
_Cock_. That must not be. I have my instructions from Hermes,
and if my feather is put to any such purpose, I am to call out and
expose the offender.
_Mi_. Hermes, of all people, grudge a man a little thievery?
I'll not believe it of him. However, let us start; I promise not to
touch the gold . . . if I can help it.
_Cock_. You must pluck out the feather first. . . . What's this?
You have taken both!
_Mi_. Better to be on the safe side. And it would look so bad
to have one half of your tail gone and not the other.
_Cock_. Well. Where shall we go first? To Simon's?
_Mi_. Yes, yes, Simon first. Simonides it is, nowadays; two
syllables is not enough for him since he has come into money. . . .
Here we are; what do I do next?
_Cock_. Apply the feather to the bolt.
_Mi_. So. Heracles! it might be a key; the door flies open.
_Cock_. Walk in; you go first. Do you see him? He is sitting
up over his accounts.
_Mi_. See him! I should think I did. What a light! That lamp
wants a drink. And what makes Simon so pale? He is shrivelled up to
nothing. That comes of his worries; there is nothing else the
matter with him, that I have heard of.
_Cock_. Listen, and you will understand.
_Si_. That seventeen thousand in the hole under my bed is safe
enough; not a soul saw me that time. But I believe Sosylus caught
me hiding the four thousand under the manger: he is not the most
industrious of grooms, he was never too fond of work; but he
_lives_ in that stable now. And I expect that is not all that
has gone, by a long way. What was Tibius doing with those fine
great kippers yesterday? And they tell me he paid no less a sum
than four shillings for a pair of earrings for his wife. God help
me, it's _my_ money they're flinging about. I'm not easy about
all that plate either: what if some one should knock a hole in the
wall, and make off with it? Many is the one that envies me, and has
an eye on my gold; my neighbour Micyllus is as bad as any of them.
_Mi_. Hear, hear! He is as bad as Simon; he walks off with
other people's pudding-basins under his arm.
_Cock_. Hush! we shall be caught.
_Si_. There's nothing like sitting up, and having everything
under one's own eye. I'll jump up and go my rounds. . . . You there!
you burglar! I see you. . . . Ah, it is but a post; all is well. I'll
pull up the gold and count it again; I may have missed something
just now. . . . Hark! a step! I knew it; he is upon me! I am beset
with enemies.
The world conspires against me. Where is my dagger?
Only let me catch . . . --I'll put the gold back.
_Cock_. There: now you have seen Simon at home. Let us go on
to another house, while there is still some of the night left.
_Mi_. The worm! what a life! I wish all my enemies such wealth
as his. I'll just lend him a box on the ear, and then I am ready.
_Si_. Who was that? Some one struck me! Ah! I am robbed!
_Mi_. Whine away, Simon, and sit up of nights till you are as
yellow as the gold you clutch. --I should like to go to Gniphon the
usurer's next; it is quite close. . . . Again the door opens to us.
_Cock_. He is sitting up too, look. It is an anxious time with
him; he is reckoning his interest. His fingers are worn to the
bone. Presently he will have to leave all this, and become a
cockroach, or a gnat, or a bluebottle.
_Mi_. Senseless brute! it will hardly be a change for the
worse. He, like Simon, is pretty well thinned down by his
calculations. Let us try some one else.
_Cock_. What about your friend Eucrates? See, the door stands
open; let us go in.
_Mi_. An hour ago, all this was mine!
_Cock_. Still the golden dream! --Look at the hoary old
reprobate: with one of his own slaves!
_Mi_. Monstrous! And his wife is not much better; she takes
her paramour from the kitchen.
_Cock_. Well? Is the inheritance to your liking? Will you have
it all?
_Mi_. I will starve first. Good-bye to gold and high living.
Preserve me from my own servants, and I will call myself rich on
twopence-halfpenny.
_Cock_. Well, well, we must be getting home; see, it is just
dawn. The rest must wait for another day.
ICAROMENIPPUS, AN AERIAL EXPEDITION
_Menippus and a Friend_
_Me_. Let me see, now. First stage, Earth to Moon, 350 miles.
Second stage, up to the Sun, 500 leagues. Then the third, to the
actual Heaven and Zeus's citadel, might be put at a day's journey
for an eagle in light marching order.
_Fr_. In the name of goodness, Menippus, what are these
astronomical sums you are doing under your breath? I have been
dogging yon for some time, listening to your suns and moons,
queerly mixed up with common earthly stages and leagues.
_Me_. Ah, you must not be surprised if my talk is rather
exalted and ethereal; I was making out the mileage of my journey.
_Fr_. Oh, I see; using stars to steer by, like the
Phoenicians?
_Me_. Oh no, travelling among them.
_Fr_. Well, to be sure, it must have been a longish dream, if
you lost yourself in it for whole leagues.
_Me_. Dream, my good man? I am just come straight from Zeus.
Dream, indeed!
_Fr_. How? What? Our Menippus a literal godsend from Heaven?
_Me_. 'Tis even so; from very Zeus I come this day, eyes and
ears yet full of wonders. Oh, doubt, if you will. That my fortune
should pass belief makes it only the more gratifying.
_Fr_. Nay, my worshipful Olympian, how should I, 'a man
begotten, treading this poor earth,' doubt him who transcends the
clouds, a 'denizen of Heaven,' as Homer says? But vouchsafe to tell
me how you were uplifted, and where you got your mighty tall
ladder. There is hardly enough of Ganymede in your looks to suggest
that you were carried off by the eagle for a cupbearer.
_Me_. I see you are bent on making a jest of it. Well, it
_is_ extraordinary; you could not be expected to see that it
is not a romance. The fact is, I needed neither ladder nor amorous
eagle; I had wings of my own.
_Fr_. Stranger and stranger! this beats Daedalus. What, you
turned into a hawk or a crow on the sly?
_Me_. Now that is not a bad shot; it was Daedalus's wing trick
that I tried.
_Fr_. Well, talk of foolhardiness! did you like the idea of
falling into the sea, and giving us a _Mare Menippeum_ after
the precedent of the _Icarium_?
_Me_. No fear. Icarus's feathers were fastened with wax, and
of course, directly the sun warmed this, he moulted and fell. No
wax for me, thank you.
_Fr_. How did you manage, then? I declare I shall be believing
you soon, if you go on like this.
_Me_. Well, I caught a fine eagle, and also a particularly
powerful vulture, and cut off their wings above the shoulder-
joint. . . . But no; if you are not in a hurry, I may as well give you
the enterprise from the beginning.
_Fr_. Do, do; I am rapt aloft by your words already, my mouth
open for your _bonne bouche_; as you love me, leave me not in
those upper regions hung up by the ears!
_Me_. Listen, then; it would be a sorry sight, a friend
deserted, with his mouth open, and _sus. per aures_. --Well, a
very short survey of life had convinced me of the absurdity and
meanness and insecurity that pervade all human objects, such as
wealth, office, power. I was filled with contempt for them,
realized that to care for them was to lose all chance of what
deserved care, and determined to grovel no more, but fix my gaze
upon the great All. Here I found my first problem in what wise men
call the universal order; I could not tell how it came into being,
who made it, what was its beginning, or what its end. But my next
step, which was the examination of details, landed me in yet worse
perplexity. I found the stars dotted quite casually about the sky,
and I wanted to know what the sun was. Especially the phenomena of
the moon struck me as extraordinary, and quite passed my
comprehension; there must be some mystery to account for those many
phases, I conjectured. Nor could I feel any greater certainty about
such things as the passage of lightning, the roll of thunder, the
descent of rain and snow and hail.
In this state of mind, the best I could think of was to get at the
truth of it all from the people called philosophers; they of course
would be able to give it me. So I selected the best of them, if
solemnity of visage, pallor of complexion and length of beard are
any criterion--for there could not be a moment's doubt of their
soaring words and heaven-high thoughts--and in their hands I placed
myself. For a considerable sum down, and more to be paid when they
should have perfected me in wisdom, I was to be made an airy
metaphysician and instructed in the order of the universe.
Unfortunately, so far from dispelling my previous ignorance, they
perplexed me more and more, with their daily drenches of beginnings
and ends, atoms and voids, matters and forms. My greatest
difficulty was that, though they differed among themselves, and all
they said was full of inconsistency and contradiction, they
expected me to believe them, each pulling me in his own direction.
_Fr_. How absurd that wise men should quarrel about facts, and
hold different opinions on the same things!
_Me_. Ah, but keep your laughter till you have heard something
of their pretentious mystifications. To begin with, their feet are
on the ground; they are no taller than the rest of us 'men that
walk the earth'; they are no sharper-sighted than their neighbours,
some of them purblind, indeed, with age or indolence; and yet they
say they can distinguish the limits of the sky, they measure the
sun's circumference, take their walks in the supra-lunar regions,
and specify the sizes and shapes of the stars as though they had
fallen from them; often one of them could not tell you correctly
the number of miles from Megara to Athens, but has no hesitation
about the distance in feet from the sun to the moon. How high the
atmosphere is, how deep the sea, how far it is round the earth--
they have the figures for all that; and moreover, they have only to
draw some circles, arrange a few triangles and squares, add certain
complicated spheres, and lo, they have the cubic contents of
Heaven.
Then, how reasonable and modest of them, dealing with subjects so
debatable, to issue their views without a hint of uncertainty; thus
it must be and it shall be; _contra gentes_ they will have it
so; they will tell you on oath the sun is a molten mass, the moon
inhabited, and the stars water-drinkers, moisture being drawn up by
the sun's rope and bucket and equitably distributed among them.
How their theories conflict is soon apparent; next-door neighbours?
no, they are miles apart. In the first place, their views of the
world differ. Some say it had no beginning, and cannot end; others
boldly talk of its creator and his procedure; what particularly
entertained me was that these latter set up a contriver of the
universe, but fail to mention where he came from, or what he stood
on while about his elaborate task, though it is by no means obvious
how there could be place or time before the universe came into
being.
_Fr_. You really do make them out very audacious conjurers.
_Me_. My dear fellow, I wish I could give you their lucubrations on
ideas and incorporeals, on finite and infinite. Over that point,
now, there is fierce battle; some circumscribe the All, others will
have it unlimited. At the same time they declare for a plurality of
worlds, and speak scornfully of others who make only one. And there
is a bellicose person who maintains that war is the father of the
universe. [Footnote: Variously attributed to Heraclitus, who denies
the possibility of repose, and insists that all things are in a
state of flux; and to Empedocles, who makes all change and becoming
depend on the interaction of the two principles, attraction and
repulsion. ]
As to Gods, I need hardly deal with that question. For some of them
God is a number; some swear by dogs and geese and plane-trees.
[Footnote: Socrates made a practice of substituting these for the
names of Gods in his oaths. ] Some again banish all other Gods, and
attribute the control of the universe to a single one; I got rather
depressed on learning how small the supply of divinity was. But I
was comforted by the lavish souls who not only make many, but
classify; there was a First God, and second and third classes of
divinity. Yet again, some regard the divine nature as unsubstantial
and without form, while others conceive it as a substance. Then
they were not all disposed to recognize a Providence; some relieve
the Gods of all care, as we relieve the superannuated of their
civic duties; in fact, they treat them exactly like supernumeraries
on the stage. The last step is also taken, of saying that Gods do
not exist at all, and leaving the world to drift along without a
master or a guiding hand.
Well, when I heard all this, I dared not disbelieve people whose
voices and beards were equally suggestive of Zeus. But I knew not
where to turn for a theory that was not open to exception, nor
combated by one as soon as propounded by another. I found myself in
the state Homer has described; many a time I would vigorously start
believing one of these gentlemen;
But then came second thoughts.
So in my distress I began to despair of ever getting any knowledge
about these things on earth; the only possible escape from
perplexity would be to take to myself wings and go up to Heaven.
Partly the wish was father to the thought; but it was confirmed by
Aesop's Fables, from which it appears that Heaven is accessible to
eagles, beetles, and sometimes camels. It was pretty clear that I
could not possibly develop feathers of my own. But if I were to
wear vulture's or eagle's wings--the only kinds equal to a man's
weight--I might perhaps succeed. I caught the birds, and
effectually amputated the eagle's right, and the vulture's left
wing. These I fastened together, attached them to my shoulders with
broad thick straps, and provided grips for my hands near the end of
the quill-feathers. Then I made experiments, first jumping up and
helping the jump by flapping my hands, or imitating the way a goose
raises itself without leaving the ground and combines running with
flight. Finding the machine obedient, I next made a bolder venture,
went up the Acropolis, and launched myself from the cliff right
over the theatre.
Getting safely to the bottom that time, my aspirations shot up
aloft. I took to starting from Parnes or Hymettus, flying to
Geranea, thence to the top of the Acrocorinthus, and over Pholoe
and Erymanthus to Taygetus. The training for my venture was now
complete; my powers were developed, and equal to a lofty flight; no
more fledgeling essays for me. I went up Olympus, provisioning
myself as lightly as possible. The moment was come; I soared
skywards, giddy at first with that great void below, but soon
conquering this difficulty. When I approached the Moon, long after
parting from the clouds, I was conscious of fatigue, especially in
the left or vulture's wing. So I alighted and sat down to rest,
having a bird's-eye view of the Earth, like the Homeric Zeus,
Surveying now the Thracian horsemen's land,
Now Mysia,
and again, as the fancy took me, Greece or Persia or India. From
all which I drew a manifold delight.
_Fr_. Oh well, Menippus, tell me all about it. I do not want
to miss a single one of your travel experiences; if you picked up
any stray information, let me have that too. I promise myself a
great many facts about the shape of the Earth, and how everything
on it looked to you from your point of vantage.
_Me_. And you will not be disappointed there, friend. So do
your best to get up to the Moon, with my story for travelling
companion and showman of the terrestrial scene.
Imagine yourself first descrying a tiny Earth, far smaller than the
Moon looks; on turning my eyes down, I could not think for some
time what had become of our mighty mountains and vast sea. If I had
not caught sight of the Colossus of Rhodes and the Pharus tower, I
assure you I should never have made out the Earth at all. But their
height and projection, with the faint shimmer of Ocean in the sun,
showed me it must be the Earth I was looking at. Then, when once I
had got my sight properly focused, the whole human race was clear
to me, not merely in the shape of nations and cities, but the
individuals, sailing, fighting, ploughing, going to law; the women,
the beasts, and in short every breed 'that feedeth on earth's
foison. '
_Fr_. Most unconvincing and contradictory. Just now you were
searching for the Earth, it was so diminished by distance, and if
the Colossus had not betrayed it, you would have taken it for
something else; and now you develop suddenly into a Lynceus, and
distinguish everything upon it, the men, the beasts, one might
almost say the gnat-swarms. Explain, please.
_Me_. Why, to be sure! how did I come to leave out so essential a
particular? I had made out the Earth, you see, but could not
distinguish any details; the distance was so great, quite beyond
the scope of my vision; so I was much chagrined and baffled. At
this moment of depression--I was very near tears--who should come
up behind me but Empedocles the physicist? His complexion was like
charcoal variegated with ashes, as if he had been baked. I will not
deny that I felt some tremors at the sight of him, taking him for
some lunar spirit.
