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.