discrimination, at my deference and delicacy. He wished, however, I
had studied Plato, Xenophon, and Cicero, more attentively; without
which preparatory discipline, no two persons could be introduced
advantageously into a dialogue. I agreed with him on this position,
remarking that we ourselves were at that very time giving our sentence
on the fact. He suggested a slight mistake on my side, and expressed a
wish that he were conversing with a writer able to sustain the
opposite part. With his experience and skill in rhetoric, his long
habitude of composition, his knowledge of life, of morals, and of
character, he should be less verbose than Cicero, less gorgeous than
Plato, and less trimly attired than Xenophon.
_Timotheus._ If he spoke in that manner, he might indeed be ridiculed
for conceitedness and presumption, but his language is not altogether
a fool's.
_Lucian._ I deliver his sentiments, not his words: for who would read,
or who would listen to me, if such fell from me as from him? Poetry
has its probabilities, so has prose: when people cry out against the
representation of a dullard, _Could he have spoken all that?_
'Certainly no,' is the reply: neither did Priam implore, in harmonious
verse, the pity of Achilles. We say only what might be said, when
great postulates are conceded.
_Timotheus._ We will pretermit these absurd and silly men: but, Cousin
Lucian! Cousin Lucian! the name of Plato will be durable as that of
Sesostris.
_Lucian._ So will the pebbles and bricks which gangs of slaves erected
into a pyramid. I do not hold Sesostris in much higher estimation than
those quieter lumps of matter. They, O Timotheus, who survive the
wreck of ages, are by no means, as a body, the worthiest of our
admiration. It is in these wrecks, as in those at sea, the best things
are not always saved. Hen-coops and empty barrels bob upon the
surface, under a serene and smiling sky, when the graven or depicted
images of the gods are scattered on invisible rocks, and when those
who most resemble them in knowledge and beneficence are devoured by
cold monsters below.
_Timotheus._ You now talk reasonably, seriously, almost religiously.
Do you ever pray?
_Lucian._ I do. It was no longer than five years ago that I was
deprived by death of my dog Melanops. He had uniformly led an innocent
life; for I never would let him walk out with me, lest he should bring
home in his mouth the remnant of some god or other, and at last get
bitten or stung by one. I reminded Anubis of this: and moreover I told
him, what he ought to be aware of, that Melanops did honour to his
relationship.
_Timotheus._ I cannot ever call it piety to pray for dumb and dead
beasts.
_Lucian._ Timotheus! Timotheus! have you no heart? have you no dog? do
you always pray only for yourself?
_Timotheus._ We do not believe that dogs can live again.
_Lucian._ More shame for you! If they enjoy and suffer, if they hope
and fear, if calamities and wrongs befall them, such as agitate their
hearts and excite their apprehensions; if they possess the option of
being grateful or malicious, and choose the worthier; if they exercise
the same sound judgment on many other occasions, some for their own
benefit and some for the benefit of their masters, they have as good a
chance of a future life, and a better chance of a happy one, than half
the priests of all the religions in the world. Wherever there is the
choice of doing well or ill, and that choice (often against a first
impulse) decides for well, there must not only be a soul of the same
nature as man's, although of less compass and comprehension, but,
being of the same nature, the same immortality must appertain to it;
for spirit, like body, may change, but cannot be annihilated.
It was among the prejudices of former times that pigs are uncleanly
animals, and fond of wallowing in the mire for mire's sake. Philosophy
has now discovered that when they roll in mud and ordure, it is only
from an excessive love of cleanliness, and a vehement desire to rid
themselves of scabs and vermin. Unfortunately, doubts keep pace with
discoveries. They are like warts, of which the blood that springs from
a great one extirpated, makes twenty little ones.
_Timotheus._ The Hydra would be a more noble simile.
_Lucian._ I was indeed about to illustrate my position by the old
Hydra, so ready at hand and so tractable; but I will never take hold
of a hydra, when a wart will serve my turn.
_Timotheus._ Continue then.
_Lucian._ Even children are now taught, in despite of Aesop, that
animals never spoke. The uttermost that can be advanced with any show
of confidence is, that if they spoke at all, they spoke in unknown
tongues. Supposing the fact, is this a reason why they should not be
respected? Quite the contrary. If the tongues were unknown, it tends
to demonstrate _our_ ignorance, not _theirs_. If we could not
understand them, while they possessed the gift, here is no proof that
they did not speak to the purpose, but only that it was not to _our_
purpose; which may likewise be said with equal certainty of the wisest
men that ever existed. How little have we learned from them, for the
conduct of life or the avoidance of calamity! Unknown tongues, indeed!
yes, so are all tongues to the vulgar and the negligent.
_Timotheus._ It comforts me to hear you talk in this manner, without a
glance at our gifts and privileges.
_Lucian._ I am less incredulous than you suppose, my cousin! Indeed I
have been giving you what ought to be a sufficient proof of it.
_Timotheus._ You have spoken with becoming gravity, I must confess.
_Lucian._ Let me then submit to your judgment some fragments of
history which have lately fallen into my hands. There is among them a
_hymn_, of which the metre is so incondite, and the phraseology so
ancient, that the grammarians have attributed it to Linus. But the
hymn will interest you less, and is less to our purpose, than the
tradition; by which it appears that certain priests of high antiquity
were of the brute creation.
_Timotheus._ No better, any of them.
_Lucian._ Now you have polished the palms of your hands, I will
commence my narrative from the manuscript.
_Timotheus._ Pray do.
_Lucian._ There existed in the city of Nephosis a fraternity of
priests, reverenced by the appellation of _Gasteres_. It is reported
that they were not always of their present form, but were birds
aquatic and migratory, a species of cormorant. The poet Linus, who
lived nearer the transformation (if there indeed was any), sings thus,
in his Hymn to Zeus:
'Thy power is manifest, O Zeus! in the Gasteres. Wild birds were they,
strong of talon, clanging of wing, and clamorous of gullet. Wild
birds, O Zeus! wild birds; now cropping the tender grass by the river
of Adonis, and breaking the nascent reed at the root, and depasturing
the sweet nymphaea; now again picking up serpents and other creeping
things on each hand of old Aegyptos, whose head is hidden in the
clouds.
'Oh that Mnemosyne would command the staidest of her three daughters
to stand and sing before me! to sing clearly and strongly. How before
thy throne, Saturnian! sharp voices arose, even the voices of Heré and
of thy children. How they cried out that innumerable mortal men,
various-tongued, kid-roasters in tent and tabernacle, devising in
their many-turning hearts and thoughtful minds how to fabricate
well-rounded spits of beech-tree, how such men having been changed
into brute animals, it behoved thee to trim the balance, and in thy
wisdom to change sundry brute animals into men; in order that they
might pour out flame-coloured wine unto thee, and sprinkle the white
flower of the sea upon the thighs of many bulls, to pleasure thee.
Then didst thou, O storm-driver! overshadow far lands with thy dark
eyebrows, looking down on them, to accomplish thy will. And then didst
thou behold the Gasteres, fat, tall, prominent-crested, purple-legged,
daedal-plumed, white and black, changeable in colour as Iris. And lo!
thou didst will it, and they were men.'
_Timotheus._ No doubt whatever can be entertained of this hymn's
antiquity. But what farther says the historian?
_Lucian._ I will read on, to gratify you.
'It is recorded that this ancient order of a most lordly priesthood
went through many changes of customs and ceremonies, which indeed they
were always ready to accommodate to the maintenance of their authority
and the enjoyment of their riches. It is recorded that, in the
beginning, they kept various tame animals, and some wild ones, within
the precincts of the temple: nevertheless, after a time, they applied
to their own uses everything they could lay their hands on, whatever
might have been the vow of those who came forward with the offering.
And when it was expected of them to make sacrifices, they not only
would make none, but declared it an act of impiety to expect it. Some
of the people, who feared the Immortals, were dismayed and indignant
at this backwardness; and the discontent at last grew universal.
Whereupon, the two chief priests held a long conference together, and
agreed that something must be done to pacify the multitude. But it was
not until the greater of them, acknowledging his despondency, called
on the gods to answer for him that his grief was only because he never
could abide bad precedents: and the other, on his side, protested that
he was overruled by his superior, and moreover had a serious
objection (founded on principle) to be knocked on the head. Meanwhile
the elder was looking down on the folds of his robe, in deep
melancholy. After long consideration, he sprang upon his feet, pushing
his chair behind him, and said, "Well, it is grown old, and was always
too long for me: I am resolved to cut off a finger's breadth."
'"Having, in your wisdom and piety, well contemplated the bad
precedent," said the other, with much consternation in his countenance
at seeing so elastic a spring in a heel by no means bearing any
resemblance to a stag's.... "I have, I have," replied the other,
interrupting him; "say no more; I am sick at heart; you must do the
same."
'"A cursed dog has torn a hole in mine," answered the other, "and, if
I cut anywhere about it, I only make bad worse. In regard to its
length, I wish it were as long again." "Brother! brother! never be
worldly-minded," said the senior. "Follow my example: snip off it not
a finger's breadth, half a finger's breadth."
'"But," expostulated the other, "will that satisfy the gods?" "Who
talked about them?" placidly said the senior. "It is very unbecoming
to have them always in our mouths: surely there are appointed times
for them. Let us be contented with laying the snippings on the altar,
and thus showing the people our piety and condescension. They, and the
gods also, will be just as well satisfied, as if we offered up a
buttock of beef, with a bushel of salt and the same quantity of
wheaten flour on it."
'"Well, if that will do ... and you know best," replied the other, "so
be it." Saying which words, he carefully and considerately snipped off
as much in proportion (for he was shorter by an inch) as the elder had
done, yet leaving on his shoulders quite enough of materials to make
handsome cloaks for seven or eight stout-built generals. Away they
both went, arm-in-arm, and then holding up their skirts a great deal
higher than was necessary, told the gods what they two had been doing
for them and their glory. About the court of the temple the sacred
swine were lying in indolent composure: seeing which, the brotherly
twain began to commune with themselves afresh: and the senior said
repentantly, "What fools we have been! The populace will laugh
outright at the curtailment of our vestures, but would gladly have
seen these animals eat daily a quarter less of the lentils." The words
were spoken so earnestly and emphatically that they were overheard by
the quadrupeds. Suddenly there was a rising of all the principal ones
in the sacred enclosure: and many that were in the streets took up,
each according to his temperament and condition, the gravest or
shrillest tone of reprobation. The thinner and therefore the more
desperate of the creatures, pushing their snouts under the curtailed
habiliments of the high priests, assailed them with ridicule and
reproach. For it had pleased the gods to work a miracle in their
behoof, and they became as loquacious as those who governed them, and
who were appointed to speak in the high places. "Let the worst come to
the worst, we at least have our tails to our hams," said they. "For
how long?" whined others, piteously: others incessantly ejaculated
tremendous imprecations: others, more serious and sedate, groaned
inwardly; and, although under their hearts there lay a huge mass of
indigestible sourness ready to rise up against the chief priests, they
ventured no farther than expostulation. "We shall lose our voices,"
said they, "if we lose our complement of lentils; and then, most
reverend lords, what will ye do for choristers?" Finally, one of grand
dimensions, who seemed almost half-human, imposed silence on every
debater. He lay stretched out apart from his brethren, covering with
his side the greater portion of a noble dunghill, and all its verdure
native and imported. He crushed a few measures of peascods to cool his
tusks; then turned his pleasurable longitudinal eyes far toward the
outer extremities of their sockets, and leered fixedly and
sarcastically at the high priests, showing every tooth in each jaw.
Other men might have feared them; the high priests envied them, seeing
what order they were in, and what exploits they were capable of. A
great painter, who flourished many olympiads ago, has, in his volume
entitled the _Canon_, defined the line of beauty. It was here in its
perfection: it followed with winning obsequiousness every member, but
delighted more especially to swim along that placid and pliant
curvature on which Nature had ranged the implements of mastication.
Pawing with his cloven hoof, he suddenly changed his countenance from
the contemplative to the wrathful. At one effort he rose up to his
whole length, breadth, and height: and they who had never seen him in
earnest, nor separate from the common swine of the enclosure, with
which he was in the habit of husking what was thrown to him, could
form no idea what a prodigious beast he was. Terrible were the
expressions of choler and comminations which burst forth from his
fulminating tusks. Erimanthus would have hidden his puny offspring
before them; and Hercules would have paused at the encounter. Thrice
he called aloud to the high priests: thrice he swore in their own
sacred language that they were a couple of thieves and impostors:
thrice he imprecated the worst maledictions on his own head if they
had not violated the holiest of their vows, and were not ready even to
sell their gods. A tremor ran throughout the whole body of the united
swine; so awful was the adjuration! Even the Gasteres themselves in
some sort shuddered, not perhaps altogether at the solemn tone of its
impiety; for they had much experience in these matters. But among them
was a Gaster who was calmer than the swearer, and more prudent and
conciliating than those he swore against. Hearing this objurgation, he
went blandly up to the sacred porker, and, lifting the flap of his
right ear between forefinger and thumb with all delicacy and
gentleness, thus whispered into it: "You do not in your heart believe
that any of us are such fools as to sell our gods, at least while we
have such a reserve to fall back upon."
'"Are we to be devoured?" cried the noble porker, twitching his ear
indignantly from under the hand of the monitor. "Hush!" said he,
laying it again, most soothingly, rather farther from the tusks:
"hush! sweet friend! Devoured? Oh, certainly not: that is to say, not
_all_: or, if all, not all at once. Indeed the holy men my brethren
may perhaps be contented with taking a little blood from each of you,
entirely for the advantage of your health and activity, and merely to
compose a few slender black-puddings for the inferior monsters of the
temple, who latterly are grown very exacting, and either are, or
pretend to be, hungry after they have eaten a whole handful of acorns,
swallowing I am ashamed to say what a quantity of water to wash them
down. We do not grudge them it, as they well know: but they appear to
have forgotten how recently no inconsiderable portion of this bounty
has been conferred. If we, as they object to us, eat more, they ought
to be aware that it is by no means for our gratification, since we
have abjured it before the gods, but to maintain the dignity of the
priesthood, and to exhibit the beauty and utility of subordination."
'The noble porker had beaten time with his muscular tail at many of
these periods; but again his heart panted visibly, and he could bear
no more.
'"All this for our good! for our activity! for our health! Let us
alone: we have health enough; we want no activity. Let us alone, I say
again, or by the Immortals!..." "Peace, my son! Your breath is
valuable: evidently you have but little to spare: and what mortal
knows how soon the gods may demand the last of it?"
'At the beginning of this exhortation, the worthy high priest had
somewhat repressed the ebullient choler of his refractory and
pertinacious disciple, by applying his flat soft palm to the
signet-formed extremity of the snout.
'"We are ready to hear complaints at all times," added he, "and to
redress any grievance at our own. But beyond a doubt, if you continue
to raise your abominable outcries, some of the people are likely to
hit upon two discoveries: first that your lentils would be sufficient
to make daily for every poor family a good wholesome porridge; and
secondly, that your flesh, properly cured, might hang up nicely
against the forthcoming bean-season." Pondering these mighty words,
the noble porker kept his eyes fixed upon him for some instants, then
leaned forward dejectedly, then tucked one foot under him, then
another, cautious to descend with dignity. At last he grunted (it must
for ever be ambiguous whether with despondency or with resignation),
pushed his wedgy snout far within the straw subjacent, and sank into
that repose which is granted to the just.'
_Timotheus._ Cousin! there are glimmerings of truth and wisdom in
sundry parts of this discourse, not unlike little broken shells
entangled in dark masses of seaweed. But I would rather you had
continued to adduce fresh arguments to demonstrate the beneficence of
the Deity, proving (if you could) that our horses and dogs, faithful
servants and companions to us, and often treated cruelly, may
recognize us hereafter, and we them. We have no authority for any such
belief.
_Lucian._ We have authority for thinking and doing whatever is humane.
Speaking of humanity, it now occurs to me, I have heard a report that
some well-intentioned men of your religion so interpret the words or
wishes of its Founder, they would abolish slavery throughout the
empire.
_Timotheus._ Such deductions have been drawn indeed from our Master's
doctrine: but the saner part of us receive it metaphorically, and
would only set men free from the bonds of sin. For if domestic slaves
were manumitted, we should neither have a dinner dressed nor a bed
made, unless by our own children: and as to labour in the fields, who
would cultivate them in this hot climate? We must import slaves from
Ethiopia and elsewhere, wheresoever they can be procured: but the
hardship lies not on them; it lies on us, and bears heavily; for we
must first buy them with our money, and then feed them; and not only
must we maintain them while they are hale and hearty and can serve us,
but likewise in sickness and (unless we can sell them for a trifle) in
decrepitude. Do not imagine, my cousin, that we are no better than
enthusiasts, visionaries, subverters of order, and ready to roll
society down into one flat surface.
_Lucian._ I thought you were maligned: I said so.
_Timotheus._ When the subject was discussed in our congregation, the
meaner part of the people were much in favour of the abolition: but
the chief priests and ministers absented themselves, and gave no vote
at all, deeming it secular, and saying that in such matters the laws
and customs of the country ought to be observed.
_Lucian._ Several of these chief priests and ministers are robed in
purple and fine linen, and fare sumptuously every day.
_Timotheus._ I have hopes of you now.
_Lucian._ Why so suddenly?
_Timotheus._ Because you have repeated those blessed words, which are
only to be found in our Scriptures.
_Lucian._ There indeed I found them. But I also found in the same
volume words of the same speaker, declaring that the rich shall never
see His face in heaven.
_Timotheus._ He does not always mean what you think He does.
_Lucian._ How is this? Did He then direct His discourses to none but
men more intelligent than I am?
_Timotheus._ Unless He gave you understanding for the occasion, they
might mislead you.
_Lucian._ Indeed!
_Timotheus._ Unquestionably. For instance, He tells us to take no heed
of to-morrow: He tells us to share equally all our worldly goods: but
we know that we cannot be respected unless we bestow due care on our
possessions, and that not only the vulgar but the well-educated esteem
us in proportion to the gifts of fortune.
_Lucian._ The eclectic philosophy is most flourishing among you
Christians. You take whatever suits your appetites, and reject the
rest.
_Timotheus._ We are not half so rich as the priests of Isis. Give us
their possessions; and we will not sit idle as they do, but be able
and ready to do incalculable good to our fellow-creatures.
_Lucian._ I have never seen great possessions excite to great
alacrity. Usually they enfeeble the sympathies, and often overlie and
smother them.
_Timotheus._ Our religion is founded less on sympathies than on
miracles. Cousin! you smile most when you ought to be most serious.
_Lucian._ I was smiling at the thought of one whom I would recommend
to your especial notice, as soon as you disinherit the priests of
Isis. He may perhaps be refractory; for he pretends (the knave!) to
work miracles.
_Timotheus._ Impostor! who is he?
_Lucian._ Aulus of Pelusium. Idle and dissolute, he never gained
anything honestly but a scourging, if indeed he ever made, what he
long merited, this acquisition. Unable to run into debt where he was
known, he came over to Alexandria.
_Timotheus._ I know him: I know him well. Here, of his own accord, he
has betaken himself to a new and regular life.
_Lucian._ He will presently wear it out, or make it sit easier on his
shoulders. My metaphor brings me to my story. Having nothing to carry
with him beside an empty valise, he resolved on filling it with
something, however worthless, lest, seeing his utter destitution, and
hopeless of payment, a receiver of lodgers should refuse to admit him
into the hostelry. Accordingly, he went to a tailor's, and began to
joke about his poverty. Nothing is more apt to bring people into good
humour; for, if they are poor themselves, they enjoy the pleasure of
discovering that others are no better off; and, if not poor, there is
the consciousness of superiority.
'The favour I am about to ask of a man so wealthy and so liberal as
you are,' said Aulus, 'is extremely small: you can materially serve
me, without the slightest loss, hazard, or inconvenience. In few
words, my valise is empty: and to some ears an empty valise is louder
and more discordant than a bagpipe: I cannot say I like the sound of
it myself. Give me all the shreds and snippings you can spare me. They
will feel like clothes; not exactly so to me and my person, but to
those who are inquisitive, and who may be importunate.'