I
_Diogenes. Pollux_
_Diog_. Pollux, I have a commission for you; next time you go up—and I
think it is your turn for earth to-morrow—if you come across Menippus
the Cynic—you will find him about the Craneum at Corinth, or in the
Lyceum, laughing at the philosophers' disputes—well, give him this
message:—Menippus, Diogenes advises you, if mortal subjects for
laughter begin to pall, to come down below, and find much richer
material; where you are now, there is always a dash of uncertainty in
it; the question will always intrude—who can be quite sure about the
hereafter? Here, you can have your laugh out in security, like me; it
is the best of sport to see millionaires, governors, despots, now mean
and insignificant; you can only tell them by their lamentations, and
the spiritless despondency which is the legacy of better days. Tell him
this, and mention that he had better stuff his wallet with plenty of
lupines, and any un-considered trifles he can snap up in the way of
pauper doles [Footnote: In the Greek, 'a Hecate's repast lying at a
street corner.' 'Rich men used to make offerings to Hecate on the 30th
of every month as Goddess of roads at street corners; and these
offerings were at once pounced upon by the poor, or, as here, the
Cynics.' _Jacobitz_.] or lustral eggs. [Footnote: 'Eggs were often used
as purificatory offerings and set out in front of the house purified.'
_Id_.]
_Pol_. I will tell him, Diogenes. But give me some idea of his
appearance.
_Diog_. Old, bald, with a cloak that allows him plenty of light and
ventilation, and is patched all colours of the rainbow; always
laughing, and usually gibing at pretentious philosophers.
_Pol_. Ah, I cannot mistake him now.
_Diog_. May I give you another message to those same philosophers?
_Pol_. Oh, I don't mind; go on.
_Diog_. Charge them generally to give up playing the fool, quarrelling
over metaphysics, tricking each other with horn and crocodile puzzles
[Footnote: See _Puzzles_ in Notes.] and teaching people to waste wit on
such absurdities.
_Pol_. Oh, but if I say anything against their wisdom, they will call
me an ignorant blockhead.
_Diog_. Then tell them from me to go to the devil.
_Pol_. Very well; rely upon me.
_Diog_. And then, my most obliging of Polluxes, there is this for the
rich:—O vain fools, why hoard gold? why all these pains over interest
sums and the adding of hundred to hundred, when you must shortly come
to us with nothing beyond the dead-penny?
_Pol_. They shall have their message too.
_Diog_. Ah, and a word to the handsome and strong; Megillus of Corinth,
and Damoxenus the wrestler will do. Inform them that auburn locks, eyes
bright or black, rosy cheeks, are as little in fashion here as tense
muscles or mighty shoulders; man and man are as like as two peas, tell
them, when it comes to bare skull and no beauty.
_Pol_. That is to the handsome and strong; yes, I can manage that.
_Diog_. Yes, my Spartan, and here is for the poor. There are a great
many of them, very sorry for themselves and resentful of their
helplessness. Tell them to dry their tears and cease their cries;
explain to them that here one man is as good as another, and they will
find those who were rich on earth no better than themselves. As for
your Spartans, you will not mind scolding them, from me, upon their
present degeneracy?
_Pol_. No, no, Diogenes; leave Sparta alone; that is going too far;
your other commissions I will execute.
_Diog_. Oh, well, let them off, if you care about it; but tell all the
others what I said.