For these among other reasons we
determined
to protect ourselves
by giving them the entrée no longer.
by giving them the entrée no longer.
Lucian
_ Surely; but not for hundreds or thousands of pounds like you;
nuts were their highest stake; a man might lose without a sigh or a
tear, when losing could not mean starvation.
_Pr. _ Wise men! though, as they were solid gold themselves, they were
out of temptation. It occurred to me when you mentioned that--suppose
any one were to import one of your solid gold men into our age and
exhibit him, what sort of a reception would the poor thing get? They
would tear him to pieces, not a doubt of it. I see them rushing at him
like the Maenads at Pentheus, the Thracian women at Orpheus, or his
hounds at Actaeon, trying which could get the biggest bit of him; even
in the holidays they do not forget their avarice; most of them regard
the holy season as a sort of harvest. In which persuasion some of them
loot their friends' tables, others complain, quite unreasonably, of
you, or smash their innocent dice in revenge for losses due to their
own folly.
But tell me this, now: as you are such a delicate old deity, why pick
out the most disagreeable time, when all is wrapt in snow, and the
north wind blows, everything is hard frozen, trees dry and bare and
leafless, meadows have lost their flowery beauty, and men are hunched
up cowering over the fire like so many octogenarians,--why this season
of all others for your festival? It is no time for the old or the
luxurious.
_Cro. _ Fellow, your questions are many, and no good substitute for the
flowing bowl. You have filched a good portion of my carnival with your
impertinent philosophizings. Let them go, and we will make merry and
clap our hands and take our holiday licence, play draughts for nuts in
the good old way, elect our kings and do them fealty. I am minded to
verify the saw, that old age is second childhood.
_Pr. _ Now dry be his cup when he thirsts, to whom such words come
amiss! Cronus, a bowl with you! 'tis enough that you have made answer
to my former questions. By the way, I think of reducing our little
interview to writing, my questions and your so affable answers, for
submission to those friends whose discretion may be trusted.
H.
FOOTNOTES:
[10] See _Saturnalia_ in Notes.
[11] Hesiod.
CRONOSOLON
_The words of Cronosolon, priest and prophet of Cronus, and holiday
lawgiver. _
The regulations to be observed by the poor I have sent expressly to
them in another scroll, and am well assured that they will abide by
the same, failing which, they will be obnoxious to the heavy penalties
enacted against the disobedient. And you, ye rich, see to it that ye
transgress not nor disregard the instructions following. Be it known to
him that shall so do, that he scorneth not me the lawgiver, but Cronus'
self, who hath appeared, in no dream, but these two days gone to my
waking senses, and appointed me to give holiday laws. No bondsman was
he, nor foul to look upon, as painters have limned him after poets'
foolish tales. His sickle was indeed full sharp; but he was cheerful
of countenance, strong of limb, and royally arrayed. Such was his
semblance; and his words, wherein too was divinity, it is fitting you
hear.
He beheld me pacing downcast, meditative, and straightway knew--as
how should a God not know? --the cause of my sorrow, and how I was
ill content with poverty and with the unseasonable thinness of my
raiment. For there was frost and north wind and ice and snow, and I
but ill fenced against them. The feast was moreover at hand, and I
might see others making ready for sacrifice and good cheer, but for me
things looked not that way. He came upon me from behind and touched
and thrilled my ear, as is the manner of his approach, and spake: 'O
Cronosolon, wherefore this troubled mien? ' 'Is there not a cause,
lord,' I said, 'when I look on pestilent loathly fellows passing rich,
engrossing all luxury, but I and many another skilled in liberal
arts have want and trouble to our bed-fellows? And thou, even thou,
lord, wilt not say it shall not be, nor order things anew and make us
equal. ' 'In common life,' then said he, ''tis no light matter to change
the lots that Clotho and her sister Fates have laid upon you; but as
touching the feast, I will set right your poverty; and let the settling
be after this manner. Go, O Cronosolon, indite me certain laws for
observance in the feast days, that the rich feast not by themselves,
but impart of their good things to you. ' Then said I, 'I know not how. '
'But I,' quoth he, 'will teach you. ' And therewith he began and taught
me. And when I was perfect, 'And certify them,' he said, 'that if they
do not hereafter, this sharp sickle that I bear is no toy; 'twere odd
if I could maim therewith Uranus my father, but not do as much for the
rich that transgress my laws; they shall be fitted to serve the Mother
of the Gods with alms-box and pipe and timbrel. ' Thus he threatened;
wherefore ye will do well to observe his decrees.
FIRST TABLE OF THE LAWS
All business, be it public or private, is forbidden during the feast
days, save such as tends to sport and solace and delight. Let none
follow their avocations saving cooks and bakers.
All men shall be equal, slave and free, rich and poor, one with another.
Anger, resentment, threats, are contrary to law.
During the feast days, no man shall be called to account of his
stewardship.
No man shall in these days count his money nor inspect his wardrobe,
nor make an inventory.
Athletic training shall cease.
No discourse shall be either composed or delivered, except it be witty
and lusty, conducing to mirth and jollity.
SECOND TABLE OF THE LAWS
In good time against the feast every rich man shall inscribe in a
table-book the names of his several friends, and shall provide money
to a tithe of his yearly incomings, together with the superfluity of
his raiment, and such ware as is too coarse for his own service, and a
goodly quantity of silver vessels. These shall be all in readiness.
On the eve of the feast the rich shall hold a purification, and drive
forth from their houses parsimony and avarice and covetousness and
all other such leanings that dwell with the most of them. And their
houses being purged they shall make offering to Zeus the Enricher, and
to Hermes the Giver, and to Apollo the Generous. And at afternoon the
table-book of their friends shall be read to them.
Then shall they with their own hands allot to each friend his fitting
share, and send it before set of sun.
And the carriers shall be not more than three or four, the trustiest of
a man's servants, and well on in years. And let him write in a letter
what is the gift, and its amount, that the carriers be not suspect to
giver or receiver. And the said servants shall drink one cup each man,
and depart, and ask no more.
To such as have culture let all be sent in double measure; it is
fitting that they have two portions.
The message that goeth with a gift shall be modest and brief; let no
man humble his friend, nor commend his own gift.
Rich shall not send gifts to rich, nor entertain his peer at the feast.
Of the things made ready for sending, none shall be reserved; let no
man give and un-give.
He that by absence missed his share of yester-year shall now receive
that too.
Let the rich discharge debts for their friends that are poor, and their
rent if they owe and cannot pay it.
Let it be their care above all to know in time the needs of every man.
The receiver for his part should be not over-curious, but account great
whatsoever is sent him. Yet are a flask of wine, a hare, or a fat fowl,
not to be held sufficient gifts; rather they bring the feast into
mockery. For the poor man's return gift, if he have learning, let it be
an ancient book, but of good omen and festive humour, or a writing of
his own after his ability; and the rich man shall receive the same with
a glad countenance, and take and read it forthwith; if he reject or
fling it aside, be it known to him that he hath incurred that penalty
of the sickle, though he himself hath sent all he should. For the
unlearned, let him send a garland or grains of frankincense.
If a poor man send, to one that is rich, raiment or silver or gold
beyond his means, the gift shall be impounded and sold, and the price
thereof cast into the treasury of Cronus; and on the morrow the poor
man shall receive from the rich stripes upon his hands with a rod not
less than twelve score and ten.
LAWS OF THE BOARD
The bath hour shall be noon, and before it nuts and draughts.
Every man shall take place as chance may direct; dignities and birth
and wealth shall give no precedence.
All shall be served with the same wine; the rich host shall not say,
For my colic, or for my megrims, I must drink the better.
Every man's portion of meat shall be alike. The attendants shall favour
none, nor yet in their serving shall they be deaf to any, nor pass any
by before his pleasure be known. They shall not set great portions
before him, and small before him, nor give this one a dainty and that
one refuse, but all shall be equal.
Let the butler have a quick eye and ear for all from his point of
vantage, and heed his master least. And be the cups large or small at
choice.
It shall be any man's right to call a health; and let all drink to all
if they will, when the host has set the wine a-going. But no man shall
be bound to drink, if he be no strong toper.
It shall not be free to any who will to bring an unpractised dancer or
musician to the dinner.
Let the limit to jesting be, that the feelings of none be wounded.
The stake at draughts shall be nuts alone; if any play for money, he
shall fast on the morrow.
When the rich man shall feast his slaves, let his friends serve with
him.
These laws every rich man shall engrave on a brazen pillar and set them
in the centre of his hall and there read them. And be it known that, so
long as that pillar stands, neither famine nor sickness nor fire nor
any mischance shall come upon the house. But if it be removed--which
God avert! --then evil shall be that house's doom.
H.
SATURNALIAN LETTERS
I
_I to Cronus, Greeting. _
I have written to you before telling you of my condition, how poverty
was likely to exclude me from the festival you have proclaimed. I
remember observing how unreasonable it was that some of us should be
in the lap of wealth and luxury, and never give a share of their good
things to the poor, while others are dying of hunger with your holy
season just upon them. But as you did not answer, I thought I might as
well refresh your memory. Dear good Cronus, you ought really to remove
this inequality and pool all the good things before telling us to make
merry. The world is peopled with camels and ants now, nothing between
the two. Or, to put it another way, kindly imagine an actor, with one
foot mounted on the tragic stilt and the other bare; if he walks like
that, he must be a giant or a dwarf according to the leg he stands on;
our lives are about as equal as his heights. Those who are taken on by
manager Fortune and supplied with stilts come the hero over us, while
the rest pad it on the ground, though you may take my word for it we
could rant and stalk with the best of them if we were given the same
chance.
Now the poets inform me that in the old days when you were king it
was otherwise with men; earth bestowed her gifts upon them unsown and
unploughed, every man's table was spread automatically, rivers ran wine
and milk and honey. Most wonderful of all, the men themselves were
gold, and poverty never came near them. As for us, we can hardly pass
for lead; some yet meaner material must be found. In the sweat of our
face the most of us eat bread. Poverty, distress, and helplessness,
sighs and lamentations and pinings for what is not, such is the staple
of man's life, the poor man's at least. All which, believe me, would be
much less painful to us, if there were not the felicity of the rich to
emphasize it. They have their chests of gold and silver, their stored
wardrobes, their slaves and carriages and house property and farms,
and, not content with keeping to themselves their superfluity in all
these, they will scarce fling a glance to the generality of us.
Ah, Cronus, there is the sting that rankles beyond endurance--that one
should loll on cloth of finest purple, overload his stomach with all
delicacies, and keep perpetual feast with guests to wish him joy, while
I and my like dream over the problematic acquisition of a sixpence to
provide us a loaf white or brown, and send us to bed with a smack of
cress or thyme or onion in our mouths. Now, good Cronus, either reform
this altogether and feed us alike, or at the least induce the rich
not to enjoy their good things alone; from their bushels of gold let
them scatter a poor pint among us; the raiment that they would never
feel the loss of though the moth were to consume it utterly, seeing
that in any case it must perish by mere lapse of time, let them devote
to covering our nakedness rather than to propagating mildew in their
chests and drawers.
Further let them entertain us by fours and fives, and not as they now
do, but more on principles of equality; let us all share alike. The way
now is for one to gorge himself on some dainty, keeping the servant
waiting about him till he is pleased to have done; but when it reaches
us, as we are in the act of helping ourselves it is whisked off, and
we have but that fleeting glimpse of the entrée or fag-end of a sweet.
Or in comes a sucking-pig; half of it, including the head, falls to
the host; the rest of us share the bones, slightly disguised. And pray
charge the butlers not to make us call unto seven times, but bring us
our wine when we ask for it first; and let it be a full-sized cup and
a bumper, as it is for their masters. And the same wine, please, for
every one at table; where is the legal authority for my host's growing
mellow on the choicest bouquet while my stomach is turned with mere
must?
These things if you correct and reform, you will have made life life,
and your feast a feast. If not, we will leave the feasting to them,
and just kneel down and pray that as they come from the bath the slave
may knock down and spill their wine, the cook smoke their sauce and
absent-mindedly pour the pea-soup over the caviare, the dog steal
in while the scullions are busy and make away with the whole of the
sausage and most of the pastry. Boar and buck and sucking-pigs, may
they rival in their roasting Homer's oxen of the Sun! only let them
not confine themselves to crawling[12], but jump up and make off to
the mountains with their spits sticking in them! and may the fat fowls,
all plucked and trussed, fly far away and rob them of their unsociable
delights!
But we can touch them more closely than that. May Indian gold-ants[13]
come by night, unearth their hoards and convey them to their own
state treasury! May their wardrobe-keepers be negligent, and our good
friends the mice make sieve-work of their raiment, fit for nothing but
tunny-nets! May every pretty curled minion, every Hyacinth and Achilles
and Narcissus they keep, turn bald as he hands the cup! let his hair
fall off and his chin grow bristly, till he is like the peak-bearded
fellows on the comic stage, hairy and prickly on cheek and temple, and
on the top smooth and bare! These are specimens of the petitions we
will send up, if they will not moderate their selfishness, acknowledge
themselves trustees for the public, and let us have our fair share.
H.
II
_Cronus to his well-beloved me, Greeting. _
My good man, why this absurdity of writing to me about the state of
the world, and advising redistribution of property? It is none of my
business; the present ruler must see to that. It is an odd thing you
should be the only person unaware that I have long abdicated; my sons
now administer various departments, of which the one that concerns you
is mainly in the hands of Zeus; my own charge is confined to draughts
and merry-making, song and good cheer, and that for one week only.
As for the weightier matters you speak of, removal of inequalities
and reducing of all men to one level of poverty or riches, Zeus must
do your business for you. On the other hand, if any man is wronged
or defrauded of his holiday privileges, that is a matter within my
competence; and I am writing to the rich on the subject of dinners, and
that pint of gold, and the raiment, directing them to send you what the
season requires. The poor are reasonable there; it is right and proper
for the rich to do these things, unless it turns out that they have
good reasons to the contrary.
Speaking generally, however, I must tell you that you are all in error;
it is quite a misconception to imagine the rich in perfect bliss; they
have no monopoly of life's pleasures because they can eat expensive
food, drink too much good wine, revel in beauty, and go in soft
raiment. You have no idea of how it works out. The resulting anxieties
are very considerable. A ceaseless watch must be kept, or stewards
will be lazy and dishonest, wine go sour, and grain be weeviled;
the burglar will be off with the rich man's plate; agitators will
persuade the people that he is meditating a _coup d'état_. And these
are but a minute fraction of their troubles; if you could know their
apprehensions and cares, you would think riches a thing to be avoided
at all costs.
Why, look at me; if wealth and dominion were good things, do you
suppose I should have been fool enough to relinquish them, make room
for others, and sit down like a common man content with a subordinate
position? No, it was because I knew all the conditions the rich and
powerful cannot escape that I had the sense to abdicate.
You made a great fuss in your letter about _their_ gorging on boar's
head and pastry while _your_ festival consists of a mouthful of cress
or thyme or onion. Now, what are the facts? As to the immediate
sensation, on the palate, there is little to choose between the two
diets--not much to complain of in either; but with the after effects
it is quite otherwise. _You_ get up next morning without either
the headache the rich man's wine leaves behind, or the disgusting
queasiness that results from his surfeit of food. To these effects he
adds those of nights given to lust and debauchery, and as likely as not
reaps the fruit of his luxury in consumption, pneumonia, or dropsy. It
is quite a difficult matter to find a rich man who is not deathly pale;
most of them by the time they are old men use eight legs belonging
to other people instead of their own two; they are gold without and
rags within, like the stage hero's robes. No fish dinners for you, I
admit; you hardly know what fish tastes like; but then observe, no
gout or pneumonia either, nor other ailments due to other excesses.
Apart from that, though, the rich themselves do not enjoy their daily
over-indulgence in these things; you may see them as eager, and more,
for a dinner of herbs as ever you are for game.
I say nothing of their other vexations--one has a disreputable son,
another a wife who prefers his slave to himself, another realizes
that his minion yields to necessity what he would not to affection;
there are numberless things, in fact, that you know nothing about; you
only see their gold and purple, or catch sight of them behind their
high-steppers, and open your mouths and abase yourselves before them.
If you left them severely alone, if you did not turn to stare at their
silver-plated carriages, if you did not while they were talking eye
their emerald rings, or finger their clothes and admire the fineness of
the texture, if you let them keep their riches to themselves, in short,
I can assure you they would seek you out and implore the favour of
your company; you see, they _must_ show you their couches and tables
and goblets, the sole good of which is in the being known to possess
them.
You will find that most of their acquisitions are made for you; they
are not for their own use, but for your astonishment. I am one that
knows both lives, and I write this for your consolation. You should
keep the feast with the thought in your minds that both parties will
soon leave this earthly scene, they resigning their wealth, and you
your poverty. However, I will write to them as I promised, and am
confident that they will not disregard what I say.
H.
III
_Cronus to the Rich, Greeting. _
I lately received a letter from the poor, complaining that you give
them no share of your prosperity. They petitioned me in general terms
to institute community of goods and let each have his part: it was only
right that equality should be established, instead of one's having
a superfluity while another was cut off from pleasure altogether.
I told them that had better be left to Zeus; but their particular
festival grievances I considered to belong to my own jurisdiction, and
so I undertook to write to you. These demands of theirs are moderate
enough, it seems to me. How can we possibly keep the feast (they ask),
when we are numb with frost and pinched with hunger? if I meant them
to participate, I must compel you to bestow on them any clothes that
you do not require, or find too heavy for your own use, and also to
vouchsafe them just a slight sprinkling of gold. If you do this, they
engage not to dispute your right to your property any further in the
court of Zeus. Otherwise they will demand redistribution the next
time he takes his seat upon the bench. Well, this is no heavy call,
considering the vast property on the possession of which I congratulate
you.
They also requested me to mention the subject of dinners; you were to
ask them to dinner, instead of closing your doors and living daintily
by yourselves. When you do entertain a few of them at long intervals,
they say you make it rather a humiliation than an enjoyment; everything
is done to degrade them--that monstrous piece of snobbishness, for
instance, the giving different people different wines. It is really
a little discreditable to them that they do not get up and walk
out in such a case, leaving you in sole possession. But that is
not all; they tell me there is not _enough_ to drink either; your
butlers' ears are as impervious as those of Odysseus's crew. Other
vulgarities I can hardly bring myself to name. The helpings and the
waiters are complained of; the latter linger about you till you are
full to repletion, but post by your poor guests at a run--with other
meannesses hardly conceivable in the house of a gentleman. For mirth
and good-fellowship it is essential that all the company be on the same
footing; if your carver does not secure equality, better not have one,
but a general scramble.
It rests with you to obviate these complaints and secure honour and
affection; a liberality that costs you nothing appreciable will impress
itself permanently by its timeliness on the memory of recipients.
Why, your cities would not be habitable, if you had not poor fellow
citizens to make their numberless contributions to your well-being;
you would have no admirers of your wealth if you lived alone with it
in the obscurity of isolation. Let there be plenty to see it and to
marvel at your silver and your exquisite tables; let them drink to your
health, and as they drink examine the goblet, feel and guess at its
weight, enjoy its storied workmanship enhanced by and enhancing the
preciousness of the material. So you may not only gain a reputation for
goodness and geniality, but also escape envy; that is a feeling not
directed against people who let others participate in their prosperity
to a reasonable extent; every one prays that they may live long to
enjoy it. Your present practice results in an unsatisfying life, with
none to see your happiness, but plenty to grudge you your wealth.
It is surely not so agreeable to gorge yourself alone, like a lion
or an old wolf that has deserted the pack, as to have the company of
well-bred people who do their best to make things pleasant. In the
first place they banish dull silence from your table, and are ready
with a good story, a harmless jest, or some other contribution to
entertainment; that is the way to please the Gods of wine and love
and beauty. And secondly they win you love by spreading abroad next
morning your hospitable fame. These are things that would be cheap at a
considerable price.
For I put it to you whether, if blindness were a regular concomitant
of poverty (fancy is free), you would be indifferent to the want of
any one to impress with your purple clothes and attendant crowds
and massive rings. I will not dwell on the certainty that plots and
ill-feeling will be excited against you by your exclusiveness; suffice
it to say that the curses they threaten to imprecate upon you are
positively horrible; God forbid they should really be driven to it! You
would never taste sausage or pastry more; if the dog's depredations
stopped short of completeness, you would still find a fishy flavour
in your soup, the boar and the buck would effect an escape to the
mountains from off the very roasting-jack, and your birds (no matter
for their being plucked) would be off with a whiz and a whirr to the
poor men's tables. Worst of all, your pretty cup-bearers would turn
bald in a twinkling--the wine, by the way, having previously all been
spilt. I now leave you to make up your minds on the course that the
festival proprieties and your own safety recommend; these people are
extremely poor; a little relief will gain you friends worth having at a
trifling cost.
H.
IV
_The Rich to Cronus, Greeting. _
Do you really suppose, Sire, that these letters of the poor have gone
exclusively to _your_ address? Zeus is quite deaf with their clamour,
their appeals for redistribution, their complaints of Destiny for her
unfairness and of us for refusing them relief. But Zeus is Zeus; _he_
knows where the fault lies, and consequently pays them very little
attention. However, as the authority is at present with you, to you we
will address our defence. Having before our eyes all that you have laid
down on the beauty of assisting out of our abundance those who are in
want, and the delight of associating and making merry with the poor, we
adopted the principle of treating them on such equal terms that a guest
could not possibly have anything to complain of.
On their side, they started with professions of wanting very little
indeed; but that was only the thin edge of the wedge. Now, if their
demands are not instantly and literally satisfied, there is bad temper
and offence and talk; their tales may be as false as they will, every
one believes them: they have been there; they must know! Our only
choice was between a refusal that meant detestation, and a total
surrender that meant speedy ruin and transfer to the begging class for
ourselves.
But the worst is to come. At table that filling of the stomach (of
which we have by no means the monopoly) does not so completely occupy
them but that, when they have drunk a drop too much, they find time
for familiarities with the attendants or saucy compliments to the
ladies. Then, after being ill at our tables, they go home, and next day
reproach us with the hunger and thirst they feelingly describe. If you
doubt the accuracy of this account, we refer you to your own quondam
guest Ixion, who being hospitably received by you and treated as one of
yourselves distinguished himself by his drunken addresses to Hera.
For these among other reasons we determined to protect ourselves
by giving them the entrée no longer. But if they engage under your
guarantee to make only the moderate demands they now profess, and to
abstain from outraging their hosts' feelings, what is ours shall be
theirs; we shall be only too glad of their company. We will comply with
your suggestions about the clothes and, as far as may be, about the
gold, and in fact will do our duty. We ask them on their side to give
up trading on our hospitality, and to be our friends instead of our
toadies and parasites. If only they will behave themselves, you shall
have no reason to complain of us.
H.
FOOTNOTES:
[12] Homer, _Od. _ xii. 395. Odysseus's crew had killed and begun to
cook the oxen of the Sun. "And soon thereafter the Gods shewed forth
signs and wonders to my company. The skins were creeping, and the flesh
bellowing upon the spits, both the roast and raw, and there was a sound
as of the voice of kine. "--_Butcher and Lang. _
[13] Herodotus, iii. 102. 'And in this desert and sandy tract' (in
North India) 'are produced ants, which are in size smaller than dogs
but larger than foxes. . . . These ants there make their dwelling under
ground and carry up the sand just in the same manner as the ants found
in the land of the Hellenes . . . and the sand which is brought up
contains gold. '--_Macaulay's translation. _
A FEAST OF LAPITHAE
_Philo. Lycinus_
_Phi. _ Ah, Lycinus, I hear you had a very varied entertainment dining
with Aristaenetus last night; a philosophic debate followed by a sharp
difference of opinion, I understand; if Charinus's information was
correct, it went as far as blows, and the conference had a bloody end.
_Ly. _ Charinus? he was not there; what can he know about it?
_Phi. _ Dionicus the doctor had told him, he said; _he_ was one of you,
was he not?
_Ly. _ Yes, but only later on; he came when the fray was already a
promising one, though no blows had yet been struck. I doubt whether he
could have any intelligible account to give, as he had not followed the
beginning of the rivalry that was to end in bloodshed.
_Phi. _ Just so; Charinus told me to apply to you, if I wanted a true
description of all the details. Dionicus had mentioned that he had
not been there all through, but said you knew the whole of the facts,
and would remember the arguments too, as you are a real student and
take more than an outside interest in that sort of thing. So no more
ceremony, please, but spread me this most tempting of banquets; its
attractions are enhanced by the fact that we shall enjoy it soberly,
quietly, without bloodshed or danger, whatever regrettable words or
deeds the old men's weak heads or the young men's vinous exaltation may
have led them into.
_Ly. _ What an indiscreet demand, Philo! What, make the story public?
give a full description of what men do in their cups? A veil should
be drawn over such things; they should be ascribed to Dionysus; I am
not at all sure that he will pardon the man who holds aloof from his
mystic influence. I should like to be sure that it does not betray an
evil nature if you dwell too curiously on what you should forget as you
leave the dining-room. 'Babble wet, But dry forget,' goes the rhyme.
It was not right of Dionicus to blab to Charinus, bespattering great
philosophers with stale wine-rinsings. No, get thee behind me; my lips
are sealed.
_Phi. _ Coquette! and you have mistaken your man too; I am quite aware
that you are more eager to tell than I to hear; I believe, if you had
no one to listen, you would find a pillar or statue and out with the
whole tale to it in one torrent. If I try to make off now, you will
never let me go till I have done my listening; you will hold on to me
and pursue me and solicit me. Then it will be my turn to coquet. Oh,
very well; do not trouble to tell me; good-bye; I will get it out of
some one else.
_Ly. _ Oh, you needn't be so hasty. I will tell you, if you are so set
upon it; only don't repeat it to everybody.
_Phi. _ If I know anything whatever of you, you will take good care of
that; you will not leave me many to repeat it to.
Now begin with telling me what Aristaenetus was giving the banquet for;
was it his boy Zeno's wedding?
_Ly. _ No, his girl Cleanthis's--to the son of Eucritus the banker, a
student of philosophy.
_Phi. _ I know; a fine lad; only a lad, though; old enough to marry?
_Ly. _ Well, he was the most _suitable_ to be had, I suppose. He is a
well-behaved youngster, has taken up philosophy, and is sole heir to a
rich father; so he was the selected bridegroom.
_Phi. _ Ah, no doubt Eucritus's money is a consideration. Well, and who
were the guests?
_Ly. _ Why, I need not give you the whole list; what you want is the
philosophers and men of letters. There was the old Stoic Zenothemis,
and with him 'Labyrinth' Diphilus; Aristaenetus's son Zeno is his
pupil. The Peripatetics were represented by Cleodemus--the ready,
argumentative person--you know him; 'Sword,' and 'Cleaver,' his
disciples call him. And then there was Hermon the Epicurean; directly
he came in, there were queer looks and edgings away in the Stoic
contingent; he might have been a parricide or an outlaw, by the way
they treated him. These had been asked as Aristaenetus's personal
friends and intimates, under which head come also Histiaeus the
literary man and Dionysodorus the rhetorician.
Then Chaereas (that is the bridegroom's name) was responsible for
his tutor Ion the Platonic--a grave reverend man remarkable for
the composure of his expression. He is generally spoken of as 'The
Standard,' so infallible is his judgement. As he walked up the room,
everybody got out of his way and saluted him like some higher being;
the great Ion's presence is like an angel's visit.
When nearly all the guests had arrived, and we were to take our
places, the ladies occupied the whole of the table to the right of
the entrance; there were a good many of them, surrounding the closely
veiled bride. The table at the far end accommodated the general
company, in due precedence.
At the one opposite the ladies, Eucritus had the first place,
with Aristaenetus next him. Then a doubt arose whether the next
was Zenothemis the Stoic's, in virtue of his years, or Hermon
the Epicurean's, who is priest of the Twin Gods[14], and also of
the noblest blood in the land. Zenothemis found the solution.
'Aristaenetus,' he said, 'if you place me below this Epicurean (I
need not use worse language than _that_), I at once leave the room';
and calling his servant he made as if to depart. 'Have your way,
Zenothemis,' said Hermon, 'though, whatever your contempt for Epicurus,
etiquette would have suggested your giving way to my priesthood, if
I had no other claims. ' 'Priest and Epicurean! that is a good joke,'
retorted Zenothemis, and took the place, with Hermon next him, however.
Then came Cleodemus the Peripatetic, Ion with the bridegroom, myself,
Diphilus and his pupil Zeno, then Dionysodorus the rhetorician and
Histiaeus the literary man.
_Phi_. Upon my word, a very temple of the Muses, peopled mainly with
the learned! I congratulate Aristaenetus on choosing for his guests
on so auspicious an occasion these patterns of wisdom; he skimmed the
cream off every sect in a most catholic spirit.
_Ly. _ Oh, yes, he is not one's idea of the rich man at all; he cares
for culture, and gives most of his time to those who have it.
Well, we fell to, quietly at first, on the ample and varied fare. But
you do not want a catalogue of soups and pastry and sauces; there
was plenty of everything. At this stage Cleodemus bent down to Ion,
and said: 'Do you see how the old man' (this was Zenothemis; I could
overhear their talk) 'is stuffing down the good things--his dress gets
a good deal of the gravy--and what a lot he hands back to his servant?
he thinks we cannot see him, and does not care whether there will be
enough to go round. Just call Lycinus's attention to him. ' This was
quite unnecessary, as I had had an excellent view of it for some time.
Just after Cleodemus had said this, in burst Alcidamas the cynic. He
had not been asked, but put a good face upon it with the usual 'No
summons Menelaus waits. ' The general opinion clearly was that he was an
impudent rogue, and various people struck in with what came to hand:
'What, Menelaus, art distraught? ' or, 'It liked not Agamemnon, Atreus'
son,' and other neat tags suited to the occasion; but these were all
asides; no one ventured to make them audible to him. Alcidamas is a
man uncommonly 'good at the war-cry'; he will bark you louder than any
dog of them all, literal or metaphorical; my gentlemen all knew he was
their better, and lay low.
Aristaenetus told him he was quite right to come; would he take a chair
and sit behind Histiaeus and Dionysodorus? 'Stuff! ' he said; 'a soft
womanish trick, to sit on a chair or a stool! one might as well loll at
one's food half on one's back, like all of you on this soft couch with
purple cushions under you. As for me, I will take my dinner standing
and walking about the room. If I get tired, I will lay my old cloak on
the ground and prop myself on my elbow like Heracles in the pictures. '
'Just as you please,' said Aristaenetus; and after that Alcidamas fed
walking round, shifting his quarters like the Scythians according to
where pasturage was richest, and following the servants up as they
carried the dishes.
However, he did not let feeding interrupt his energetic expositions
of virtue and vice, and his scoffs at gold and silver. What was the
good of this multitude of wonderful cups, he wanted to know, when
earthenware would serve the purpose? Aristaenetus got rid of his
obtrusiveness for the moment by signing to his servant to hand the
cynic a huge goblet of potent liquor. It seemed a happy thought; but he
little knew the woes that were to flow from that goblet. When Alcidamas
got it, he was quiet for a while, throwing himself on the ground in
dishabille as he had threatened, with his elbow planted vertically,
just in the attitude of the painters' _Heracles with Pholus_.
By this time the wine was flowing pretty freely everywhere; healths
were drunk, conversation was general, and the lights had come in. I now
noticed the boy standing near Cleodemus--a good-looking cupbearer--to
have an odd smile on. I suppose I am to give you all the by-play of
the dinner, especially any tender incidents. Well, so I was trying to
get at the reason for the smile. In a little while he came to take
Cleodemus's cup from him; he gave the boy's fingers a pinch, and handed
him up a couple of shillings, I think it was, with the cup. The smile
appeared again in response to the pinch, but I imagine he failed to
notice the coins; he did not get hold of them; they went ringing on
the floor, and there were two blushing faces to be seen. Those round,
however, could not tell whose the money was, the boy saying he had not
dropped it, and Cleodemus, at whose place it had been heard to fall,
not confessing to the loss. So the matter was soon done with; hardly
any one had grasped the situation--only Aristaenetus, as far as I could
gather. He shifted the boy soon after, effecting the transfer without
any fuss, and assigned Cleodemus a strong grown-up fellow who might
be a mule or horse groom. So much for that business; it would have
seriously compromised Cleodemus if it had attracted general attention;
but it was smothered forthwith by Aristaenetus's tactful handling of
the offence.
Alcidamas the cynic, who had now emptied his goblet, after finding out
the bride's name, called for silence; he then faced the ladies, and
cried out in a loud voice: 'Cleanthis, I drink to you in the name of
my patron Heracles. ' There was a general laugh; upon which, 'You vile
scum,' says he, 'you laugh, do you, because I invoke our God Heracles
as I toast the bride? Let me tell you that, if she will not pledge me,
she shall never bear a son as brave of spirit, as free of judgement,
as strong of body, as myself. ' And he proceeded to show us more of
the said body, till it was scarcely decent. The company irritated him
by laughing again; he stood there with a wandering wrathful eye, and
looked as if he were going to make trouble. He would probably have
brought down his stick on somebody's head, but for the timely arrival
of an enormous cake, the sight of which mollified him; he quieted down,
and accompanied its progress, eating hard.
The rest were mostly flushed with wine by this time, and the room
was full of clamour. Dionysodorus the rhetorician was alternately
delivering speeches of his own composition and receiving the plaudits
of the servants behind. Histiaeus, the literary man below him, was
making an eclectic mixture of Pindar, Hesiod, and Anacreon, whose
collaboration produced a most remarkable ode, some of it really
prophetic of what was soon to come--'Then hide met stubborn hide,' for
instance, and 'Uprose the wailings and the prayers of men. ' Zenothemis
too had taken a scroll in small writing from his servant, which he was
reading aloud.
Now came one of the usual slight breaks in the procession of dishes;
and Aristaenetus, to avoid the embarrassment of a blank, told his
jester to come in and talk or perform, by way of putting the company
still more at their ease. So in came an ugly fellow with a shaven
head--just a few hairs standing upright on the crown. He danced with
dislocations and contortions, which made him still more absurd, then
improvised and delivered some anapaests in an Egyptian accent, and
wound up with witticisms on the guests.
Most of them took these in good part; but when it came to Alcidamas's
turn, and he called him a Maltese poodle[15], Alcidamas, who had shown
signs of jealousy for some time and did not at all like the way he was
holding every one's attention, lost his temper. He threw off his cloak
and challenged the fellow to a bout of pancratium; otherwise he would
let him feel his stick. So poor Satyrion, as the jester was called,
had to accept the challenge and stand up. A charming spectacle--the
philosopher sparring and exchanging blows with a buffoon! Some of us
were scandalized and some amused, till Alcidamas found he had his
bellyful, being no match for the tough little fellow. They gave us a
good laugh.
It was now, not long after this match, that Dionicus the doctor came
in. He had been detained, he said, by a brain-fever case; the patient
was Polyprepon the piper, and thereby hung a tale. He had no sooner
entered the room, not knowing how far gone the man was, when he jumped
up, secured the door, drew a dagger, and handed him the pipes, with an
order to play them; and when Dionicus could not, he took a strap and
inflicted chastisement on the palms of his hands. To escape from this
perilous position, Dionicus proposed a match, with a scale of forfeits
to be exacted with the strap. He played first himself, and then handed
over the pipes, receiving in exchange the strap and dagger. These he
lost no time in sending out of window into the open court, after which
it was safe to grapple with him and shout for help; the neighbours
broke open the door and rescued him. He showed us his wealed hands and
some scratches on his face. His story had as distinguished a success as
the jester before; he then squeezed himself in by Histiaeus and dined
on what was left. His coming was providential, and he most useful in
the sequel.
There now appeared a messenger who said he brought a communication
from Hetoemocles the Stoic, which his master had directed him to read
publicly, and then return. With Aristaenetus's permission he took it to
the lamp, and began reading.
_Phi. _ The usual thing, I suppose--a panegyric on the bride, or an
epithalamium?
_Ly. _ Just what we took it for; however, it was quite another story.
Here are the contents:
_HETOEMOCLES THE PHILOSOPHER TO ARISTAENETUS, GREETING. _
_My views on dining are easily deducible from my whole past life;
though daily importuned by far richer men than you to join them, I
invariably refuse; I know too well the tumults and follies that attend
the wine-cup. But if there is one whose neglect I may fairly resent,
it is yourself; the fruit of my long and unremitting attentions to you
is to find myself not on the roll of your friends; I, your next-door
neighbour, am singled out for exclusion. The sting of it is in the
personal ingratitude; happiness for me is not found in a plate of wild
boar or hare or pastry; these I get in abundance at the houses of
people who understand the proprieties; this very day I might have dined
(and well, by all accounts) with my pupil Pammenes; but he pressed me
to no purpose; I was reserving myself, poor fool, for you. _
_But you pass me by, and feast others. I ought not to be surprised;
you have not acquired the power of distinguishing merit; you have no
apprehensive imagination. I know whence the blow comes; it is from
your precious philosophers, Zenothemis and The Labyrinth, whose mouths
(though I would not boast) I could stop with a single syllogism. Let
either of them tell me, What is Philosophy? or, not to go beyond the
merest elements, how does_ condition _differ from_ constitution? _for
I will not resort to real puzzles, as the_ Horns[1], _the_ Sorites[1],
_or the_ Reaper[16]. _Well, I wish you joy of their company. As for me,
holding as I do that nothing is good but what is right, I shall get
over a slight like this. _
_You will be kind enough not to resort later to the well-worn excuse of
having forgotten in the bustle of your engagements; I have spoken to
you twice to-day, in the morning at your house, and later when you were
sacrificing at the Anaceum. This is to let your guests know the rights
of the case. _
_If you think it is the dinner I care about, reflect upon the story of
Oeneus; you will observe that, when he omitted Artemis alone from the
Gods to whom he offered sacrifice, she resented it. Homer's account of
it states that he_
_Forgot or ne'er bethought him--woeful blindness! _
_Euripides's begins_,
_This land of Calydon, across the gulf
From Pelops' land, with all its fertile plains_--;
_and Sophocles's_,
_Upon the tilth of Oeneus Leto's child,
Far-darting Goddess, loosed a monstrous boar_.
_I quote you but these few of the many passages upon the incident,
just to suggest the qualities of him whom you have passed over,
to entertain, and to have your son taught by, Diphilus! natural
enough; of course, the lad fancies him, and finds him an agreeable
master! If tale-telling were not beneath me, I would add a piece of
information that, if you choose, you can get confirmed by the boy's
attendant Zopyrus. But a wedding is not a time for unpleasantness or
denunciations, especially of offences so vile. Diphilus deserves it
richly at my hands, indeed--two pupils he has stolen from me--; but for
the good name of Philosophy I will hold my hand. _
_My man has instructions, if you should offer him a portion of wild
boar or venison or sesame cake to bring me in lieu of my dinner, to
refuse it. I would not have you find the motive of my letter in such
desires. _
My dear fellow, I went all hot and cold as this was read; I was praying
that the earth might swallow me up when I saw everybody laughing at
the different points; the most amused were those who knew Hetoemocles
and his white hair and reverend looks; it was such a surprise to find
the reality behind that imposing beard and serious countenance. I felt
sure Aristaenetus had passed him over not in neglect, but because he
supposed he would never accept an invitation or have anything to do
with festivities; he had thought it out of the question, and not worth
trying.
As soon as the man stopped reading, all eyes were turned on Zeno and
Diphilus, who were pale with apprehension, and confirmed by their
embarrassment the insinuations of Hetoemocles. Aristaenetus was uneasy
and disturbed, but urged us to drink, and tried to smooth the matter
over with an attempt at a smile; he told the man he would see to it,
and dismissed him. Zeno disappeared shortly after; his attendant had
signed to him, as from his father, to retire.
Cleodemus had been on the look-out for an opportunity; he was spoiling
for a fight with the Stoics, and chafing over the difficulty of
starting the subject; but the letter had struck the right key, and
off he went. 'Now we see the productions of your fine Chrysippus, your
glorious Zeno, your Cleanthes--a few poor catch-words, some fruitless
posers, a philosophic exterior, and a large supply of--Hetoemocleses.
What ripe wisdom does this letter reveal, with its conclusion that
Aristaenetus is an Oeneus, and Hetoemocles an Artemis! How auspicious,
how suitable to the occasion, its tone! '
'To be sure,' chimed in Hermon, his left-hand neighbour; 'he had no
doubt heard that Aristaenetus had bespoken a wild boar, and thought the
introduction of the one at Calydon appropriate. Aristaenetus, I adjure
you by the domestic altar, let him taste the victim, or we shall have
the old man starving, and withering away like his Meleager. Though
indeed it would not be so very hard on him; such a fate is one of
Chrysippus's _things indifferent_. '
Here Zenothemis woke up and thundered out: 'Chrysippus? you name
that name? because a pretender like Hetoemocles comes short of his
profession, you argue from him to the real sages, to Cleanthes and
Zeno? And who are the men, pray, who hold such language?
nuts were their highest stake; a man might lose without a sigh or a
tear, when losing could not mean starvation.
_Pr. _ Wise men! though, as they were solid gold themselves, they were
out of temptation. It occurred to me when you mentioned that--suppose
any one were to import one of your solid gold men into our age and
exhibit him, what sort of a reception would the poor thing get? They
would tear him to pieces, not a doubt of it. I see them rushing at him
like the Maenads at Pentheus, the Thracian women at Orpheus, or his
hounds at Actaeon, trying which could get the biggest bit of him; even
in the holidays they do not forget their avarice; most of them regard
the holy season as a sort of harvest. In which persuasion some of them
loot their friends' tables, others complain, quite unreasonably, of
you, or smash their innocent dice in revenge for losses due to their
own folly.
But tell me this, now: as you are such a delicate old deity, why pick
out the most disagreeable time, when all is wrapt in snow, and the
north wind blows, everything is hard frozen, trees dry and bare and
leafless, meadows have lost their flowery beauty, and men are hunched
up cowering over the fire like so many octogenarians,--why this season
of all others for your festival? It is no time for the old or the
luxurious.
_Cro. _ Fellow, your questions are many, and no good substitute for the
flowing bowl. You have filched a good portion of my carnival with your
impertinent philosophizings. Let them go, and we will make merry and
clap our hands and take our holiday licence, play draughts for nuts in
the good old way, elect our kings and do them fealty. I am minded to
verify the saw, that old age is second childhood.
_Pr. _ Now dry be his cup when he thirsts, to whom such words come
amiss! Cronus, a bowl with you! 'tis enough that you have made answer
to my former questions. By the way, I think of reducing our little
interview to writing, my questions and your so affable answers, for
submission to those friends whose discretion may be trusted.
H.
FOOTNOTES:
[10] See _Saturnalia_ in Notes.
[11] Hesiod.
CRONOSOLON
_The words of Cronosolon, priest and prophet of Cronus, and holiday
lawgiver. _
The regulations to be observed by the poor I have sent expressly to
them in another scroll, and am well assured that they will abide by
the same, failing which, they will be obnoxious to the heavy penalties
enacted against the disobedient. And you, ye rich, see to it that ye
transgress not nor disregard the instructions following. Be it known to
him that shall so do, that he scorneth not me the lawgiver, but Cronus'
self, who hath appeared, in no dream, but these two days gone to my
waking senses, and appointed me to give holiday laws. No bondsman was
he, nor foul to look upon, as painters have limned him after poets'
foolish tales. His sickle was indeed full sharp; but he was cheerful
of countenance, strong of limb, and royally arrayed. Such was his
semblance; and his words, wherein too was divinity, it is fitting you
hear.
He beheld me pacing downcast, meditative, and straightway knew--as
how should a God not know? --the cause of my sorrow, and how I was
ill content with poverty and with the unseasonable thinness of my
raiment. For there was frost and north wind and ice and snow, and I
but ill fenced against them. The feast was moreover at hand, and I
might see others making ready for sacrifice and good cheer, but for me
things looked not that way. He came upon me from behind and touched
and thrilled my ear, as is the manner of his approach, and spake: 'O
Cronosolon, wherefore this troubled mien? ' 'Is there not a cause,
lord,' I said, 'when I look on pestilent loathly fellows passing rich,
engrossing all luxury, but I and many another skilled in liberal
arts have want and trouble to our bed-fellows? And thou, even thou,
lord, wilt not say it shall not be, nor order things anew and make us
equal. ' 'In common life,' then said he, ''tis no light matter to change
the lots that Clotho and her sister Fates have laid upon you; but as
touching the feast, I will set right your poverty; and let the settling
be after this manner. Go, O Cronosolon, indite me certain laws for
observance in the feast days, that the rich feast not by themselves,
but impart of their good things to you. ' Then said I, 'I know not how. '
'But I,' quoth he, 'will teach you. ' And therewith he began and taught
me. And when I was perfect, 'And certify them,' he said, 'that if they
do not hereafter, this sharp sickle that I bear is no toy; 'twere odd
if I could maim therewith Uranus my father, but not do as much for the
rich that transgress my laws; they shall be fitted to serve the Mother
of the Gods with alms-box and pipe and timbrel. ' Thus he threatened;
wherefore ye will do well to observe his decrees.
FIRST TABLE OF THE LAWS
All business, be it public or private, is forbidden during the feast
days, save such as tends to sport and solace and delight. Let none
follow their avocations saving cooks and bakers.
All men shall be equal, slave and free, rich and poor, one with another.
Anger, resentment, threats, are contrary to law.
During the feast days, no man shall be called to account of his
stewardship.
No man shall in these days count his money nor inspect his wardrobe,
nor make an inventory.
Athletic training shall cease.
No discourse shall be either composed or delivered, except it be witty
and lusty, conducing to mirth and jollity.
SECOND TABLE OF THE LAWS
In good time against the feast every rich man shall inscribe in a
table-book the names of his several friends, and shall provide money
to a tithe of his yearly incomings, together with the superfluity of
his raiment, and such ware as is too coarse for his own service, and a
goodly quantity of silver vessels. These shall be all in readiness.
On the eve of the feast the rich shall hold a purification, and drive
forth from their houses parsimony and avarice and covetousness and
all other such leanings that dwell with the most of them. And their
houses being purged they shall make offering to Zeus the Enricher, and
to Hermes the Giver, and to Apollo the Generous. And at afternoon the
table-book of their friends shall be read to them.
Then shall they with their own hands allot to each friend his fitting
share, and send it before set of sun.
And the carriers shall be not more than three or four, the trustiest of
a man's servants, and well on in years. And let him write in a letter
what is the gift, and its amount, that the carriers be not suspect to
giver or receiver. And the said servants shall drink one cup each man,
and depart, and ask no more.
To such as have culture let all be sent in double measure; it is
fitting that they have two portions.
The message that goeth with a gift shall be modest and brief; let no
man humble his friend, nor commend his own gift.
Rich shall not send gifts to rich, nor entertain his peer at the feast.
Of the things made ready for sending, none shall be reserved; let no
man give and un-give.
He that by absence missed his share of yester-year shall now receive
that too.
Let the rich discharge debts for their friends that are poor, and their
rent if they owe and cannot pay it.
Let it be their care above all to know in time the needs of every man.
The receiver for his part should be not over-curious, but account great
whatsoever is sent him. Yet are a flask of wine, a hare, or a fat fowl,
not to be held sufficient gifts; rather they bring the feast into
mockery. For the poor man's return gift, if he have learning, let it be
an ancient book, but of good omen and festive humour, or a writing of
his own after his ability; and the rich man shall receive the same with
a glad countenance, and take and read it forthwith; if he reject or
fling it aside, be it known to him that he hath incurred that penalty
of the sickle, though he himself hath sent all he should. For the
unlearned, let him send a garland or grains of frankincense.
If a poor man send, to one that is rich, raiment or silver or gold
beyond his means, the gift shall be impounded and sold, and the price
thereof cast into the treasury of Cronus; and on the morrow the poor
man shall receive from the rich stripes upon his hands with a rod not
less than twelve score and ten.
LAWS OF THE BOARD
The bath hour shall be noon, and before it nuts and draughts.
Every man shall take place as chance may direct; dignities and birth
and wealth shall give no precedence.
All shall be served with the same wine; the rich host shall not say,
For my colic, or for my megrims, I must drink the better.
Every man's portion of meat shall be alike. The attendants shall favour
none, nor yet in their serving shall they be deaf to any, nor pass any
by before his pleasure be known. They shall not set great portions
before him, and small before him, nor give this one a dainty and that
one refuse, but all shall be equal.
Let the butler have a quick eye and ear for all from his point of
vantage, and heed his master least. And be the cups large or small at
choice.
It shall be any man's right to call a health; and let all drink to all
if they will, when the host has set the wine a-going. But no man shall
be bound to drink, if he be no strong toper.
It shall not be free to any who will to bring an unpractised dancer or
musician to the dinner.
Let the limit to jesting be, that the feelings of none be wounded.
The stake at draughts shall be nuts alone; if any play for money, he
shall fast on the morrow.
When the rich man shall feast his slaves, let his friends serve with
him.
These laws every rich man shall engrave on a brazen pillar and set them
in the centre of his hall and there read them. And be it known that, so
long as that pillar stands, neither famine nor sickness nor fire nor
any mischance shall come upon the house. But if it be removed--which
God avert! --then evil shall be that house's doom.
H.
SATURNALIAN LETTERS
I
_I to Cronus, Greeting. _
I have written to you before telling you of my condition, how poverty
was likely to exclude me from the festival you have proclaimed. I
remember observing how unreasonable it was that some of us should be
in the lap of wealth and luxury, and never give a share of their good
things to the poor, while others are dying of hunger with your holy
season just upon them. But as you did not answer, I thought I might as
well refresh your memory. Dear good Cronus, you ought really to remove
this inequality and pool all the good things before telling us to make
merry. The world is peopled with camels and ants now, nothing between
the two. Or, to put it another way, kindly imagine an actor, with one
foot mounted on the tragic stilt and the other bare; if he walks like
that, he must be a giant or a dwarf according to the leg he stands on;
our lives are about as equal as his heights. Those who are taken on by
manager Fortune and supplied with stilts come the hero over us, while
the rest pad it on the ground, though you may take my word for it we
could rant and stalk with the best of them if we were given the same
chance.
Now the poets inform me that in the old days when you were king it
was otherwise with men; earth bestowed her gifts upon them unsown and
unploughed, every man's table was spread automatically, rivers ran wine
and milk and honey. Most wonderful of all, the men themselves were
gold, and poverty never came near them. As for us, we can hardly pass
for lead; some yet meaner material must be found. In the sweat of our
face the most of us eat bread. Poverty, distress, and helplessness,
sighs and lamentations and pinings for what is not, such is the staple
of man's life, the poor man's at least. All which, believe me, would be
much less painful to us, if there were not the felicity of the rich to
emphasize it. They have their chests of gold and silver, their stored
wardrobes, their slaves and carriages and house property and farms,
and, not content with keeping to themselves their superfluity in all
these, they will scarce fling a glance to the generality of us.
Ah, Cronus, there is the sting that rankles beyond endurance--that one
should loll on cloth of finest purple, overload his stomach with all
delicacies, and keep perpetual feast with guests to wish him joy, while
I and my like dream over the problematic acquisition of a sixpence to
provide us a loaf white or brown, and send us to bed with a smack of
cress or thyme or onion in our mouths. Now, good Cronus, either reform
this altogether and feed us alike, or at the least induce the rich
not to enjoy their good things alone; from their bushels of gold let
them scatter a poor pint among us; the raiment that they would never
feel the loss of though the moth were to consume it utterly, seeing
that in any case it must perish by mere lapse of time, let them devote
to covering our nakedness rather than to propagating mildew in their
chests and drawers.
Further let them entertain us by fours and fives, and not as they now
do, but more on principles of equality; let us all share alike. The way
now is for one to gorge himself on some dainty, keeping the servant
waiting about him till he is pleased to have done; but when it reaches
us, as we are in the act of helping ourselves it is whisked off, and
we have but that fleeting glimpse of the entrée or fag-end of a sweet.
Or in comes a sucking-pig; half of it, including the head, falls to
the host; the rest of us share the bones, slightly disguised. And pray
charge the butlers not to make us call unto seven times, but bring us
our wine when we ask for it first; and let it be a full-sized cup and
a bumper, as it is for their masters. And the same wine, please, for
every one at table; where is the legal authority for my host's growing
mellow on the choicest bouquet while my stomach is turned with mere
must?
These things if you correct and reform, you will have made life life,
and your feast a feast. If not, we will leave the feasting to them,
and just kneel down and pray that as they come from the bath the slave
may knock down and spill their wine, the cook smoke their sauce and
absent-mindedly pour the pea-soup over the caviare, the dog steal
in while the scullions are busy and make away with the whole of the
sausage and most of the pastry. Boar and buck and sucking-pigs, may
they rival in their roasting Homer's oxen of the Sun! only let them
not confine themselves to crawling[12], but jump up and make off to
the mountains with their spits sticking in them! and may the fat fowls,
all plucked and trussed, fly far away and rob them of their unsociable
delights!
But we can touch them more closely than that. May Indian gold-ants[13]
come by night, unearth their hoards and convey them to their own
state treasury! May their wardrobe-keepers be negligent, and our good
friends the mice make sieve-work of their raiment, fit for nothing but
tunny-nets! May every pretty curled minion, every Hyacinth and Achilles
and Narcissus they keep, turn bald as he hands the cup! let his hair
fall off and his chin grow bristly, till he is like the peak-bearded
fellows on the comic stage, hairy and prickly on cheek and temple, and
on the top smooth and bare! These are specimens of the petitions we
will send up, if they will not moderate their selfishness, acknowledge
themselves trustees for the public, and let us have our fair share.
H.
II
_Cronus to his well-beloved me, Greeting. _
My good man, why this absurdity of writing to me about the state of
the world, and advising redistribution of property? It is none of my
business; the present ruler must see to that. It is an odd thing you
should be the only person unaware that I have long abdicated; my sons
now administer various departments, of which the one that concerns you
is mainly in the hands of Zeus; my own charge is confined to draughts
and merry-making, song and good cheer, and that for one week only.
As for the weightier matters you speak of, removal of inequalities
and reducing of all men to one level of poverty or riches, Zeus must
do your business for you. On the other hand, if any man is wronged
or defrauded of his holiday privileges, that is a matter within my
competence; and I am writing to the rich on the subject of dinners, and
that pint of gold, and the raiment, directing them to send you what the
season requires. The poor are reasonable there; it is right and proper
for the rich to do these things, unless it turns out that they have
good reasons to the contrary.
Speaking generally, however, I must tell you that you are all in error;
it is quite a misconception to imagine the rich in perfect bliss; they
have no monopoly of life's pleasures because they can eat expensive
food, drink too much good wine, revel in beauty, and go in soft
raiment. You have no idea of how it works out. The resulting anxieties
are very considerable. A ceaseless watch must be kept, or stewards
will be lazy and dishonest, wine go sour, and grain be weeviled;
the burglar will be off with the rich man's plate; agitators will
persuade the people that he is meditating a _coup d'état_. And these
are but a minute fraction of their troubles; if you could know their
apprehensions and cares, you would think riches a thing to be avoided
at all costs.
Why, look at me; if wealth and dominion were good things, do you
suppose I should have been fool enough to relinquish them, make room
for others, and sit down like a common man content with a subordinate
position? No, it was because I knew all the conditions the rich and
powerful cannot escape that I had the sense to abdicate.
You made a great fuss in your letter about _their_ gorging on boar's
head and pastry while _your_ festival consists of a mouthful of cress
or thyme or onion. Now, what are the facts? As to the immediate
sensation, on the palate, there is little to choose between the two
diets--not much to complain of in either; but with the after effects
it is quite otherwise. _You_ get up next morning without either
the headache the rich man's wine leaves behind, or the disgusting
queasiness that results from his surfeit of food. To these effects he
adds those of nights given to lust and debauchery, and as likely as not
reaps the fruit of his luxury in consumption, pneumonia, or dropsy. It
is quite a difficult matter to find a rich man who is not deathly pale;
most of them by the time they are old men use eight legs belonging
to other people instead of their own two; they are gold without and
rags within, like the stage hero's robes. No fish dinners for you, I
admit; you hardly know what fish tastes like; but then observe, no
gout or pneumonia either, nor other ailments due to other excesses.
Apart from that, though, the rich themselves do not enjoy their daily
over-indulgence in these things; you may see them as eager, and more,
for a dinner of herbs as ever you are for game.
I say nothing of their other vexations--one has a disreputable son,
another a wife who prefers his slave to himself, another realizes
that his minion yields to necessity what he would not to affection;
there are numberless things, in fact, that you know nothing about; you
only see their gold and purple, or catch sight of them behind their
high-steppers, and open your mouths and abase yourselves before them.
If you left them severely alone, if you did not turn to stare at their
silver-plated carriages, if you did not while they were talking eye
their emerald rings, or finger their clothes and admire the fineness of
the texture, if you let them keep their riches to themselves, in short,
I can assure you they would seek you out and implore the favour of
your company; you see, they _must_ show you their couches and tables
and goblets, the sole good of which is in the being known to possess
them.
You will find that most of their acquisitions are made for you; they
are not for their own use, but for your astonishment. I am one that
knows both lives, and I write this for your consolation. You should
keep the feast with the thought in your minds that both parties will
soon leave this earthly scene, they resigning their wealth, and you
your poverty. However, I will write to them as I promised, and am
confident that they will not disregard what I say.
H.
III
_Cronus to the Rich, Greeting. _
I lately received a letter from the poor, complaining that you give
them no share of your prosperity. They petitioned me in general terms
to institute community of goods and let each have his part: it was only
right that equality should be established, instead of one's having
a superfluity while another was cut off from pleasure altogether.
I told them that had better be left to Zeus; but their particular
festival grievances I considered to belong to my own jurisdiction, and
so I undertook to write to you. These demands of theirs are moderate
enough, it seems to me. How can we possibly keep the feast (they ask),
when we are numb with frost and pinched with hunger? if I meant them
to participate, I must compel you to bestow on them any clothes that
you do not require, or find too heavy for your own use, and also to
vouchsafe them just a slight sprinkling of gold. If you do this, they
engage not to dispute your right to your property any further in the
court of Zeus. Otherwise they will demand redistribution the next
time he takes his seat upon the bench. Well, this is no heavy call,
considering the vast property on the possession of which I congratulate
you.
They also requested me to mention the subject of dinners; you were to
ask them to dinner, instead of closing your doors and living daintily
by yourselves. When you do entertain a few of them at long intervals,
they say you make it rather a humiliation than an enjoyment; everything
is done to degrade them--that monstrous piece of snobbishness, for
instance, the giving different people different wines. It is really
a little discreditable to them that they do not get up and walk
out in such a case, leaving you in sole possession. But that is
not all; they tell me there is not _enough_ to drink either; your
butlers' ears are as impervious as those of Odysseus's crew. Other
vulgarities I can hardly bring myself to name. The helpings and the
waiters are complained of; the latter linger about you till you are
full to repletion, but post by your poor guests at a run--with other
meannesses hardly conceivable in the house of a gentleman. For mirth
and good-fellowship it is essential that all the company be on the same
footing; if your carver does not secure equality, better not have one,
but a general scramble.
It rests with you to obviate these complaints and secure honour and
affection; a liberality that costs you nothing appreciable will impress
itself permanently by its timeliness on the memory of recipients.
Why, your cities would not be habitable, if you had not poor fellow
citizens to make their numberless contributions to your well-being;
you would have no admirers of your wealth if you lived alone with it
in the obscurity of isolation. Let there be plenty to see it and to
marvel at your silver and your exquisite tables; let them drink to your
health, and as they drink examine the goblet, feel and guess at its
weight, enjoy its storied workmanship enhanced by and enhancing the
preciousness of the material. So you may not only gain a reputation for
goodness and geniality, but also escape envy; that is a feeling not
directed against people who let others participate in their prosperity
to a reasonable extent; every one prays that they may live long to
enjoy it. Your present practice results in an unsatisfying life, with
none to see your happiness, but plenty to grudge you your wealth.
It is surely not so agreeable to gorge yourself alone, like a lion
or an old wolf that has deserted the pack, as to have the company of
well-bred people who do their best to make things pleasant. In the
first place they banish dull silence from your table, and are ready
with a good story, a harmless jest, or some other contribution to
entertainment; that is the way to please the Gods of wine and love
and beauty. And secondly they win you love by spreading abroad next
morning your hospitable fame. These are things that would be cheap at a
considerable price.
For I put it to you whether, if blindness were a regular concomitant
of poverty (fancy is free), you would be indifferent to the want of
any one to impress with your purple clothes and attendant crowds
and massive rings. I will not dwell on the certainty that plots and
ill-feeling will be excited against you by your exclusiveness; suffice
it to say that the curses they threaten to imprecate upon you are
positively horrible; God forbid they should really be driven to it! You
would never taste sausage or pastry more; if the dog's depredations
stopped short of completeness, you would still find a fishy flavour
in your soup, the boar and the buck would effect an escape to the
mountains from off the very roasting-jack, and your birds (no matter
for their being plucked) would be off with a whiz and a whirr to the
poor men's tables. Worst of all, your pretty cup-bearers would turn
bald in a twinkling--the wine, by the way, having previously all been
spilt. I now leave you to make up your minds on the course that the
festival proprieties and your own safety recommend; these people are
extremely poor; a little relief will gain you friends worth having at a
trifling cost.
H.
IV
_The Rich to Cronus, Greeting. _
Do you really suppose, Sire, that these letters of the poor have gone
exclusively to _your_ address? Zeus is quite deaf with their clamour,
their appeals for redistribution, their complaints of Destiny for her
unfairness and of us for refusing them relief. But Zeus is Zeus; _he_
knows where the fault lies, and consequently pays them very little
attention. However, as the authority is at present with you, to you we
will address our defence. Having before our eyes all that you have laid
down on the beauty of assisting out of our abundance those who are in
want, and the delight of associating and making merry with the poor, we
adopted the principle of treating them on such equal terms that a guest
could not possibly have anything to complain of.
On their side, they started with professions of wanting very little
indeed; but that was only the thin edge of the wedge. Now, if their
demands are not instantly and literally satisfied, there is bad temper
and offence and talk; their tales may be as false as they will, every
one believes them: they have been there; they must know! Our only
choice was between a refusal that meant detestation, and a total
surrender that meant speedy ruin and transfer to the begging class for
ourselves.
But the worst is to come. At table that filling of the stomach (of
which we have by no means the monopoly) does not so completely occupy
them but that, when they have drunk a drop too much, they find time
for familiarities with the attendants or saucy compliments to the
ladies. Then, after being ill at our tables, they go home, and next day
reproach us with the hunger and thirst they feelingly describe. If you
doubt the accuracy of this account, we refer you to your own quondam
guest Ixion, who being hospitably received by you and treated as one of
yourselves distinguished himself by his drunken addresses to Hera.
For these among other reasons we determined to protect ourselves
by giving them the entrée no longer. But if they engage under your
guarantee to make only the moderate demands they now profess, and to
abstain from outraging their hosts' feelings, what is ours shall be
theirs; we shall be only too glad of their company. We will comply with
your suggestions about the clothes and, as far as may be, about the
gold, and in fact will do our duty. We ask them on their side to give
up trading on our hospitality, and to be our friends instead of our
toadies and parasites. If only they will behave themselves, you shall
have no reason to complain of us.
H.
FOOTNOTES:
[12] Homer, _Od. _ xii. 395. Odysseus's crew had killed and begun to
cook the oxen of the Sun. "And soon thereafter the Gods shewed forth
signs and wonders to my company. The skins were creeping, and the flesh
bellowing upon the spits, both the roast and raw, and there was a sound
as of the voice of kine. "--_Butcher and Lang. _
[13] Herodotus, iii. 102. 'And in this desert and sandy tract' (in
North India) 'are produced ants, which are in size smaller than dogs
but larger than foxes. . . . These ants there make their dwelling under
ground and carry up the sand just in the same manner as the ants found
in the land of the Hellenes . . . and the sand which is brought up
contains gold. '--_Macaulay's translation. _
A FEAST OF LAPITHAE
_Philo. Lycinus_
_Phi. _ Ah, Lycinus, I hear you had a very varied entertainment dining
with Aristaenetus last night; a philosophic debate followed by a sharp
difference of opinion, I understand; if Charinus's information was
correct, it went as far as blows, and the conference had a bloody end.
_Ly. _ Charinus? he was not there; what can he know about it?
_Phi. _ Dionicus the doctor had told him, he said; _he_ was one of you,
was he not?
_Ly. _ Yes, but only later on; he came when the fray was already a
promising one, though no blows had yet been struck. I doubt whether he
could have any intelligible account to give, as he had not followed the
beginning of the rivalry that was to end in bloodshed.
_Phi. _ Just so; Charinus told me to apply to you, if I wanted a true
description of all the details. Dionicus had mentioned that he had
not been there all through, but said you knew the whole of the facts,
and would remember the arguments too, as you are a real student and
take more than an outside interest in that sort of thing. So no more
ceremony, please, but spread me this most tempting of banquets; its
attractions are enhanced by the fact that we shall enjoy it soberly,
quietly, without bloodshed or danger, whatever regrettable words or
deeds the old men's weak heads or the young men's vinous exaltation may
have led them into.
_Ly. _ What an indiscreet demand, Philo! What, make the story public?
give a full description of what men do in their cups? A veil should
be drawn over such things; they should be ascribed to Dionysus; I am
not at all sure that he will pardon the man who holds aloof from his
mystic influence. I should like to be sure that it does not betray an
evil nature if you dwell too curiously on what you should forget as you
leave the dining-room. 'Babble wet, But dry forget,' goes the rhyme.
It was not right of Dionicus to blab to Charinus, bespattering great
philosophers with stale wine-rinsings. No, get thee behind me; my lips
are sealed.
_Phi. _ Coquette! and you have mistaken your man too; I am quite aware
that you are more eager to tell than I to hear; I believe, if you had
no one to listen, you would find a pillar or statue and out with the
whole tale to it in one torrent. If I try to make off now, you will
never let me go till I have done my listening; you will hold on to me
and pursue me and solicit me. Then it will be my turn to coquet. Oh,
very well; do not trouble to tell me; good-bye; I will get it out of
some one else.
_Ly. _ Oh, you needn't be so hasty. I will tell you, if you are so set
upon it; only don't repeat it to everybody.
_Phi. _ If I know anything whatever of you, you will take good care of
that; you will not leave me many to repeat it to.
Now begin with telling me what Aristaenetus was giving the banquet for;
was it his boy Zeno's wedding?
_Ly. _ No, his girl Cleanthis's--to the son of Eucritus the banker, a
student of philosophy.
_Phi. _ I know; a fine lad; only a lad, though; old enough to marry?
_Ly. _ Well, he was the most _suitable_ to be had, I suppose. He is a
well-behaved youngster, has taken up philosophy, and is sole heir to a
rich father; so he was the selected bridegroom.
_Phi. _ Ah, no doubt Eucritus's money is a consideration. Well, and who
were the guests?
_Ly. _ Why, I need not give you the whole list; what you want is the
philosophers and men of letters. There was the old Stoic Zenothemis,
and with him 'Labyrinth' Diphilus; Aristaenetus's son Zeno is his
pupil. The Peripatetics were represented by Cleodemus--the ready,
argumentative person--you know him; 'Sword,' and 'Cleaver,' his
disciples call him. And then there was Hermon the Epicurean; directly
he came in, there were queer looks and edgings away in the Stoic
contingent; he might have been a parricide or an outlaw, by the way
they treated him. These had been asked as Aristaenetus's personal
friends and intimates, under which head come also Histiaeus the
literary man and Dionysodorus the rhetorician.
Then Chaereas (that is the bridegroom's name) was responsible for
his tutor Ion the Platonic--a grave reverend man remarkable for
the composure of his expression. He is generally spoken of as 'The
Standard,' so infallible is his judgement. As he walked up the room,
everybody got out of his way and saluted him like some higher being;
the great Ion's presence is like an angel's visit.
When nearly all the guests had arrived, and we were to take our
places, the ladies occupied the whole of the table to the right of
the entrance; there were a good many of them, surrounding the closely
veiled bride. The table at the far end accommodated the general
company, in due precedence.
At the one opposite the ladies, Eucritus had the first place,
with Aristaenetus next him. Then a doubt arose whether the next
was Zenothemis the Stoic's, in virtue of his years, or Hermon
the Epicurean's, who is priest of the Twin Gods[14], and also of
the noblest blood in the land. Zenothemis found the solution.
'Aristaenetus,' he said, 'if you place me below this Epicurean (I
need not use worse language than _that_), I at once leave the room';
and calling his servant he made as if to depart. 'Have your way,
Zenothemis,' said Hermon, 'though, whatever your contempt for Epicurus,
etiquette would have suggested your giving way to my priesthood, if
I had no other claims. ' 'Priest and Epicurean! that is a good joke,'
retorted Zenothemis, and took the place, with Hermon next him, however.
Then came Cleodemus the Peripatetic, Ion with the bridegroom, myself,
Diphilus and his pupil Zeno, then Dionysodorus the rhetorician and
Histiaeus the literary man.
_Phi_. Upon my word, a very temple of the Muses, peopled mainly with
the learned! I congratulate Aristaenetus on choosing for his guests
on so auspicious an occasion these patterns of wisdom; he skimmed the
cream off every sect in a most catholic spirit.
_Ly. _ Oh, yes, he is not one's idea of the rich man at all; he cares
for culture, and gives most of his time to those who have it.
Well, we fell to, quietly at first, on the ample and varied fare. But
you do not want a catalogue of soups and pastry and sauces; there
was plenty of everything. At this stage Cleodemus bent down to Ion,
and said: 'Do you see how the old man' (this was Zenothemis; I could
overhear their talk) 'is stuffing down the good things--his dress gets
a good deal of the gravy--and what a lot he hands back to his servant?
he thinks we cannot see him, and does not care whether there will be
enough to go round. Just call Lycinus's attention to him. ' This was
quite unnecessary, as I had had an excellent view of it for some time.
Just after Cleodemus had said this, in burst Alcidamas the cynic. He
had not been asked, but put a good face upon it with the usual 'No
summons Menelaus waits. ' The general opinion clearly was that he was an
impudent rogue, and various people struck in with what came to hand:
'What, Menelaus, art distraught? ' or, 'It liked not Agamemnon, Atreus'
son,' and other neat tags suited to the occasion; but these were all
asides; no one ventured to make them audible to him. Alcidamas is a
man uncommonly 'good at the war-cry'; he will bark you louder than any
dog of them all, literal or metaphorical; my gentlemen all knew he was
their better, and lay low.
Aristaenetus told him he was quite right to come; would he take a chair
and sit behind Histiaeus and Dionysodorus? 'Stuff! ' he said; 'a soft
womanish trick, to sit on a chair or a stool! one might as well loll at
one's food half on one's back, like all of you on this soft couch with
purple cushions under you. As for me, I will take my dinner standing
and walking about the room. If I get tired, I will lay my old cloak on
the ground and prop myself on my elbow like Heracles in the pictures. '
'Just as you please,' said Aristaenetus; and after that Alcidamas fed
walking round, shifting his quarters like the Scythians according to
where pasturage was richest, and following the servants up as they
carried the dishes.
However, he did not let feeding interrupt his energetic expositions
of virtue and vice, and his scoffs at gold and silver. What was the
good of this multitude of wonderful cups, he wanted to know, when
earthenware would serve the purpose? Aristaenetus got rid of his
obtrusiveness for the moment by signing to his servant to hand the
cynic a huge goblet of potent liquor. It seemed a happy thought; but he
little knew the woes that were to flow from that goblet. When Alcidamas
got it, he was quiet for a while, throwing himself on the ground in
dishabille as he had threatened, with his elbow planted vertically,
just in the attitude of the painters' _Heracles with Pholus_.
By this time the wine was flowing pretty freely everywhere; healths
were drunk, conversation was general, and the lights had come in. I now
noticed the boy standing near Cleodemus--a good-looking cupbearer--to
have an odd smile on. I suppose I am to give you all the by-play of
the dinner, especially any tender incidents. Well, so I was trying to
get at the reason for the smile. In a little while he came to take
Cleodemus's cup from him; he gave the boy's fingers a pinch, and handed
him up a couple of shillings, I think it was, with the cup. The smile
appeared again in response to the pinch, but I imagine he failed to
notice the coins; he did not get hold of them; they went ringing on
the floor, and there were two blushing faces to be seen. Those round,
however, could not tell whose the money was, the boy saying he had not
dropped it, and Cleodemus, at whose place it had been heard to fall,
not confessing to the loss. So the matter was soon done with; hardly
any one had grasped the situation--only Aristaenetus, as far as I could
gather. He shifted the boy soon after, effecting the transfer without
any fuss, and assigned Cleodemus a strong grown-up fellow who might
be a mule or horse groom. So much for that business; it would have
seriously compromised Cleodemus if it had attracted general attention;
but it was smothered forthwith by Aristaenetus's tactful handling of
the offence.
Alcidamas the cynic, who had now emptied his goblet, after finding out
the bride's name, called for silence; he then faced the ladies, and
cried out in a loud voice: 'Cleanthis, I drink to you in the name of
my patron Heracles. ' There was a general laugh; upon which, 'You vile
scum,' says he, 'you laugh, do you, because I invoke our God Heracles
as I toast the bride? Let me tell you that, if she will not pledge me,
she shall never bear a son as brave of spirit, as free of judgement,
as strong of body, as myself. ' And he proceeded to show us more of
the said body, till it was scarcely decent. The company irritated him
by laughing again; he stood there with a wandering wrathful eye, and
looked as if he were going to make trouble. He would probably have
brought down his stick on somebody's head, but for the timely arrival
of an enormous cake, the sight of which mollified him; he quieted down,
and accompanied its progress, eating hard.
The rest were mostly flushed with wine by this time, and the room
was full of clamour. Dionysodorus the rhetorician was alternately
delivering speeches of his own composition and receiving the plaudits
of the servants behind. Histiaeus, the literary man below him, was
making an eclectic mixture of Pindar, Hesiod, and Anacreon, whose
collaboration produced a most remarkable ode, some of it really
prophetic of what was soon to come--'Then hide met stubborn hide,' for
instance, and 'Uprose the wailings and the prayers of men. ' Zenothemis
too had taken a scroll in small writing from his servant, which he was
reading aloud.
Now came one of the usual slight breaks in the procession of dishes;
and Aristaenetus, to avoid the embarrassment of a blank, told his
jester to come in and talk or perform, by way of putting the company
still more at their ease. So in came an ugly fellow with a shaven
head--just a few hairs standing upright on the crown. He danced with
dislocations and contortions, which made him still more absurd, then
improvised and delivered some anapaests in an Egyptian accent, and
wound up with witticisms on the guests.
Most of them took these in good part; but when it came to Alcidamas's
turn, and he called him a Maltese poodle[15], Alcidamas, who had shown
signs of jealousy for some time and did not at all like the way he was
holding every one's attention, lost his temper. He threw off his cloak
and challenged the fellow to a bout of pancratium; otherwise he would
let him feel his stick. So poor Satyrion, as the jester was called,
had to accept the challenge and stand up. A charming spectacle--the
philosopher sparring and exchanging blows with a buffoon! Some of us
were scandalized and some amused, till Alcidamas found he had his
bellyful, being no match for the tough little fellow. They gave us a
good laugh.
It was now, not long after this match, that Dionicus the doctor came
in. He had been detained, he said, by a brain-fever case; the patient
was Polyprepon the piper, and thereby hung a tale. He had no sooner
entered the room, not knowing how far gone the man was, when he jumped
up, secured the door, drew a dagger, and handed him the pipes, with an
order to play them; and when Dionicus could not, he took a strap and
inflicted chastisement on the palms of his hands. To escape from this
perilous position, Dionicus proposed a match, with a scale of forfeits
to be exacted with the strap. He played first himself, and then handed
over the pipes, receiving in exchange the strap and dagger. These he
lost no time in sending out of window into the open court, after which
it was safe to grapple with him and shout for help; the neighbours
broke open the door and rescued him. He showed us his wealed hands and
some scratches on his face. His story had as distinguished a success as
the jester before; he then squeezed himself in by Histiaeus and dined
on what was left. His coming was providential, and he most useful in
the sequel.
There now appeared a messenger who said he brought a communication
from Hetoemocles the Stoic, which his master had directed him to read
publicly, and then return. With Aristaenetus's permission he took it to
the lamp, and began reading.
_Phi. _ The usual thing, I suppose--a panegyric on the bride, or an
epithalamium?
_Ly. _ Just what we took it for; however, it was quite another story.
Here are the contents:
_HETOEMOCLES THE PHILOSOPHER TO ARISTAENETUS, GREETING. _
_My views on dining are easily deducible from my whole past life;
though daily importuned by far richer men than you to join them, I
invariably refuse; I know too well the tumults and follies that attend
the wine-cup. But if there is one whose neglect I may fairly resent,
it is yourself; the fruit of my long and unremitting attentions to you
is to find myself not on the roll of your friends; I, your next-door
neighbour, am singled out for exclusion. The sting of it is in the
personal ingratitude; happiness for me is not found in a plate of wild
boar or hare or pastry; these I get in abundance at the houses of
people who understand the proprieties; this very day I might have dined
(and well, by all accounts) with my pupil Pammenes; but he pressed me
to no purpose; I was reserving myself, poor fool, for you. _
_But you pass me by, and feast others. I ought not to be surprised;
you have not acquired the power of distinguishing merit; you have no
apprehensive imagination. I know whence the blow comes; it is from
your precious philosophers, Zenothemis and The Labyrinth, whose mouths
(though I would not boast) I could stop with a single syllogism. Let
either of them tell me, What is Philosophy? or, not to go beyond the
merest elements, how does_ condition _differ from_ constitution? _for
I will not resort to real puzzles, as the_ Horns[1], _the_ Sorites[1],
_or the_ Reaper[16]. _Well, I wish you joy of their company. As for me,
holding as I do that nothing is good but what is right, I shall get
over a slight like this. _
_You will be kind enough not to resort later to the well-worn excuse of
having forgotten in the bustle of your engagements; I have spoken to
you twice to-day, in the morning at your house, and later when you were
sacrificing at the Anaceum. This is to let your guests know the rights
of the case. _
_If you think it is the dinner I care about, reflect upon the story of
Oeneus; you will observe that, when he omitted Artemis alone from the
Gods to whom he offered sacrifice, she resented it. Homer's account of
it states that he_
_Forgot or ne'er bethought him--woeful blindness! _
_Euripides's begins_,
_This land of Calydon, across the gulf
From Pelops' land, with all its fertile plains_--;
_and Sophocles's_,
_Upon the tilth of Oeneus Leto's child,
Far-darting Goddess, loosed a monstrous boar_.
_I quote you but these few of the many passages upon the incident,
just to suggest the qualities of him whom you have passed over,
to entertain, and to have your son taught by, Diphilus! natural
enough; of course, the lad fancies him, and finds him an agreeable
master! If tale-telling were not beneath me, I would add a piece of
information that, if you choose, you can get confirmed by the boy's
attendant Zopyrus. But a wedding is not a time for unpleasantness or
denunciations, especially of offences so vile. Diphilus deserves it
richly at my hands, indeed--two pupils he has stolen from me--; but for
the good name of Philosophy I will hold my hand. _
_My man has instructions, if you should offer him a portion of wild
boar or venison or sesame cake to bring me in lieu of my dinner, to
refuse it. I would not have you find the motive of my letter in such
desires. _
My dear fellow, I went all hot and cold as this was read; I was praying
that the earth might swallow me up when I saw everybody laughing at
the different points; the most amused were those who knew Hetoemocles
and his white hair and reverend looks; it was such a surprise to find
the reality behind that imposing beard and serious countenance. I felt
sure Aristaenetus had passed him over not in neglect, but because he
supposed he would never accept an invitation or have anything to do
with festivities; he had thought it out of the question, and not worth
trying.
As soon as the man stopped reading, all eyes were turned on Zeno and
Diphilus, who were pale with apprehension, and confirmed by their
embarrassment the insinuations of Hetoemocles. Aristaenetus was uneasy
and disturbed, but urged us to drink, and tried to smooth the matter
over with an attempt at a smile; he told the man he would see to it,
and dismissed him. Zeno disappeared shortly after; his attendant had
signed to him, as from his father, to retire.
Cleodemus had been on the look-out for an opportunity; he was spoiling
for a fight with the Stoics, and chafing over the difficulty of
starting the subject; but the letter had struck the right key, and
off he went. 'Now we see the productions of your fine Chrysippus, your
glorious Zeno, your Cleanthes--a few poor catch-words, some fruitless
posers, a philosophic exterior, and a large supply of--Hetoemocleses.
What ripe wisdom does this letter reveal, with its conclusion that
Aristaenetus is an Oeneus, and Hetoemocles an Artemis! How auspicious,
how suitable to the occasion, its tone! '
'To be sure,' chimed in Hermon, his left-hand neighbour; 'he had no
doubt heard that Aristaenetus had bespoken a wild boar, and thought the
introduction of the one at Calydon appropriate. Aristaenetus, I adjure
you by the domestic altar, let him taste the victim, or we shall have
the old man starving, and withering away like his Meleager. Though
indeed it would not be so very hard on him; such a fate is one of
Chrysippus's _things indifferent_. '
Here Zenothemis woke up and thundered out: 'Chrysippus? you name
that name? because a pretender like Hetoemocles comes short of his
profession, you argue from him to the real sages, to Cleanthes and
Zeno? And who are the men, pray, who hold such language?
