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? Why, Hermon,
who shore the curls, the solid golden curls, of the Dioscuri, and who
will yet receive his barber's fee from the executioner. And Cleodemus,
who was caught in adultery with his pupil Sostratus's wife, and paid
the shameful penalty. Silence would better become the owners of
such consciences.' 'Who trades in his own wife's favours?' retorted
Cleodemus; 'I do not do that, and I do not undertake to keep my foreign
pupil's purse and then swear by Polias the deposit was never made; I
do not lend money at fifty per cent, and I do not hale my pupils into
court if fees are not paid to the day.' 'You will hardly deny, though,'
said Zenothemis, 'that you supplied Crito with the poison for his
father.'
And therewith, his cup being in his hand, about half full of wine, he
emptied it over the pair; and Ion, whose worst guilt was being their
neighbour, came in for a good deal of it. Hermon bent forward, dried
his head, and entered a protest. Cleodemus, having no wine to reply
with, leant over and spat at Zenothemis; at the same time he clutched
the old man's beard with his left hand, and was aiming a blow which
would have killed him, when Aristaenetus arrested it, stepped over
Zenothemis, and lay down between the two, making himself a buffer in
the interests of peace.
All this time, Philo, my thoughts were busy enough with the old
commonplace, that after all it is no use having all theory at your
finger's ends, if you do not conform your conduct to the right. Here
were these masters of precept making themselves perfectly ridiculous in
practice. Then it was borne in upon me that possibly the vulgar notion
is right, and culture only misleads the people who are too much wrapt
up in books and bookish ideas. Of all that philosophic company there
was not a man--not so much as an accidental exception--who could pass
muster; if his conduct did not condemn him, his words did yet more
fatally. I could not make the wine responsible, either; the author of
that letter was fasting and sober.
Things seemed to go by contraries; you might see the ordinary people
behaving quite properly at table; no rioting and disorder there; the
most they did was to laugh at and, no doubt, censure the others, whom
they had been accustomed to respect and to credit with the qualities
their appearance suggested. It was the wise men who made beasts of
themselves, abused each other, over-fed, shouted and came to blows. I
thought one could find no better illustration for our dinner than the
poets' story of Eris. When she was not invited to Peleus's nuptials,
she threw that apple on the table which brought about the great Trojan
war. Hetoemocles's letter was just such an apple, woeful Iliad and all.
For buffer-Aristaenetus had proved ineffectual, and the quarrel between
Zenothemis and Cleodemus was proceeding. 'For the present,' said the
latter, 'I am satisfied with exposing your ignorance; to-morrow I
will give you your deserts more adequately. Pray explain, Zenothemis,
or the reputable Diphilus for you, how it is that you Stoics class
the acquisition of wealth among the things indifferent, and then
concentrate your whole efforts upon it, hang perpetually about the rich
to that end, lend money, screw out your usury, and take pay for your
teaching. Or again, if you hate pleasure and condemn the Epicureans,
how comes it that you will do and endure the meanest things for it? you
resent it if you are not asked out; and when you are, you eat so much,
and convey so much more to your servant's keeping'--and he interrupted
himself to make a grab at the napkin that Zenothemis's boy was holding,
full of all sorts of provender; he meant to get it away and empty the
contents on the floor; but the boy held on too tight.
'Quite right, Cleodemus,' said Hermon; 'let them tell us why they
condemn pleasure, and yet expect more of it than any one else.' 'No,
no,' says Zenothemis; 'you give us your grounds, Cleodemus, for
saying wealth is _not_ a thing indifferent.' 'No, I tell you; let us
have _your_ case.' So the see-saw went on, till Ion came out of his
retirement and called a truce: 'I will give you,' he said, 'a theme
worthy of the occasion; and you shall speak and listen without trying
for personal triumphs; take a leaf from our Plato this time.' 'Hear,
hear,' from the company, especially from Aristaenetus and Eucritus, who
hailed this escape from unpleasantness. The former now went back to his
own place, confident of peace.
The 'repast,' as they call it, had just made its appearance; each guest
was served with a bird, a slice of wild boar, a portion of hare, a
fried fish, some sesame cakes and sweet-meats--all these to be taken
home if the guest chose. Every man had not a separate dish, however;
Aristaenetus and Eucritus shared one little table, from which each was
to take what belonged to him; so Zenothemis the Stoic and Hermon the
Epicurean; Cleodemus and Ion had the third table, the bridegroom and
I the next; Diphilus had a double portion, by the absence of Zeno.
Remember these details, Philo; you will find they bear on the story.
_Phi._ Trust me.
_Ly._ Ion proceeded: 'I will start, then, if you wish it.' He reflected
a moment, and then: 'With so much talent in the room, no less a subject
might seem indicated than Ideas[17], Incorporeals, and the Immortality
of the Soul. On the other hand our divergent views might make that too
controversial; so I will take the question of marriage, and say what
seems appropriate. The counsel of perfection here would be to dispense
with it, and be satisfied, according to the prescription of Plato and
Socrates, with contemplating male beauty. So, and only so, is absolute
virtue to be attained. But if marriage is admitted as a practical
necessity, then we should adopt the Platonic system of holding our
wives in common, thus obviating rivality.'
The unseasonableness of these remarks raised a laugh. And Dionysodorus
had another criticism: 'Spare us these provincialisms,' he said; 'or
give us your authority for "rivality."' 'Such carpings are beneath
contempt,' was the polite reply. Dionysodorus was about to return the
compliment with interest, when our good man of letters intervened:
'Stop,' said Histiaeus, 'and let me read you an epithalamium.'
He at once went off at score; and I think I can reproduce the effusion:
Or like, in Aristaenetus's hall,
Cleanthis, softly nurtured bright princess,
Surpassing other beauties virginal,
Cythera's Queen, or Helen's loveliness.
Bridegroom, the best of your contemporaries,
Nireus's and Achilles' peer, rejoice!
While we in hymeneal voluntaries
Over the pair keep lifting up our voice.
By the time the laughter that not unnaturally followed had subsided, it
was time to pack up our 'repasts'; Aristaenetus and Eucritus took each
his intended portion; Chaereas and I, Ion and Cleodemus, did likewise.
But as Zeno was not there, Diphilus expected to come in for his share
too. He said everything on that table was his, and disputed possession
with the servants. There was a tug of war between them just like that
over the body of Patroclus; at last he was worsted and had to let go,
to the huge amusement of all, which he heightened by taking the thing
as a most serious wrong.
As I told you, Hermon and Zenothemis were neighbours, the latter
having the upper place. Their portions were equal enough except in one
respect, and the division was peaceful until that was reached. But the
bird on Hermon's side was--by chance, no doubt--the fatter. The moment
came for them to take their respective birds. At this point--now attend
carefully, please, Philo; here is the kernel of the whole affair--at
this point Zenothemis let his own bird lie, and took the fatter one
before Hermon. But Hermon was not going to be put upon; he laid hold of
it too. Then their voices were lifted up, they closed, belaboured each
other's faces with the birds, clutched each other's beards, and called
for assistance, Hermon appealing to Cleodemus, Zenothemis to Alcidamas
and Diphilus. The allies took their sides, Ion alone preserving
neutrality.
The hosts engaged. Zenothemis lifted a goblet from the table where it
stood before Aristaenetus, and hurled it at Hermon;
And him it missed, but found another mark,
laying open the bridegroom's skull with a sound deep gash.
This opened the lips of the ladies; most of them indeed jumped down
into the battle's interspace, led by the young man's mother, as soon as
she saw his blood flowing; the bride too was startled from her place
by terror for him. Meanwhile Alcidamas was in his glory maintaining
the cause of Zenothemis; down came his stick on Cleodemus's skull, he
injured Hermon's jaw, and severely wounded several of the servants
who tried to protect them. The other side were not beaten, however;
Cleodemus with levelled finger was gouging out Zenothemis's eye, not
to mention fastening on his nose and biting a piece off it; and when
Diphilus came to Zenothemis's rescue, Hermon pitched him head first
from the couch.
Histiaeus too was wounded in trying to part the pair; it was a kick
in the teeth, I think, from Cleodemus, who took him for Diphilus.
So the poor man of letters lay 'disgorging blood,' as his own Homer
describes it. It was a scene of tumult and tears. The women were
hanging over Chaereas and wailing, the other men trying to restore
peace. The great centre of destruction was Alcidamas, who after
routing the forces immediately opposed to him was striking at whatever
presented itself. Many a man had fallen there, be sure, had he not
broken his stick. I was standing close up to the wall watching the
proceedings in which I took no part; Histiaeus's fate had taught me
the dangers of intervention. It was a sight to recall the Lapithae and
Centaurs--tables upside down, blood in streams, bowls hurtling in the
air.
At last Alcidamas upset the lamp, there was a great darkness, and
confusion was worse confounded. It was not so easy to procure another
light, and many a horrid deed was done in the dark. When some one came
at last with a lamp, Alcidamas was discovered stripping and applying
compulsion to the flute-girl, and Dionysodorus proved to have been
as incongruously engaged; as he stood up, a goblet rolled out of his
bosom. His account of the matter was that Ion had picked it up in the
confusion, and given it him to save it from damage! for which piece of
carefulness Ion was willing to receive credit.
So the party came to an end, tears being resolved in the laughter at
Alcidamas, Dionysodorus and Ion. The wounded were borne off in sad
case, especially old Zenothemis, holding one hand on his nose and the
other on his eye, and bellowing out that the agony was more than he
could bear. Hermon was in poor condition himself, having lost a couple
of teeth; but he could not let this piece of evidence go; 'Bear in
mind, Zenothemis,' he called out, 'that you do _not_ consider pain a
thing indifferent.' The bridegroom, who had been seen to by Dionicus,
was also taken off with his head in bandages--in the carriage in which
he was to have taken his bride home. It had been a sorry wedding-feast
for him, poor fellow. Dionicus had done what he could for the rest,
they were taken home to bed, and very ill most of them were on the way.
Alcidamas stayed where he was; it was impossible to get rid of him, as
he had thrown himself down anyhow across a couch and fallen asleep.
And now you know all about the banquet, my dear Philo; a tragedy
epilogue seems called for:
Hidden power sways each hour:
Men propose, the Gods dispose:
Fail surmises, come surprises.
It was the unexpected that came to pass here, at any rate. Well, live
and learn; I know now that a quiet man had better keep clear of these
feasts of reason.
H.
FOOTNOTES:
[14] Castor and Pollux.
[15] Alcidamas being a cynic, or 'dog.'
[16] See _Puzzles_ in Notes.
[17] See _Plato_ in Notes.
DEMOSTHENES
AN ENCOMIUM
A little before noon on the sixteenth, I was walking in the Porch--it
was on the left-hand side as you go out--, when Thersagoras
appeared; I dare say he is known to some of you--short, hook-nosed,
fair-complexioned, and virile. He drew nearer, and I spoke:
'Thersagoras the poet. Whence, and whither?' 'From home, hither,' he
replied. 'Just a stroll?' I asked. 'Why, I do need a stroll too,' he
said. 'I got up in the small hours, impressed with the duty of making
a poetic offering on Homer's birthday.' 'Very proper,' said I; 'a good
way of paying for the education he has given you.' 'That was how I
began,' he continued, 'and time has glided by till now it is just upon
noon; that was what I meant by saying I wanted a stroll.
'However, I wanted something else much more--an interview with this
gentleman' (and he pointed to the Homer; you know the one on the right
of the Ptolemies' shrine, with the hair hanging loose); 'I came to
greet him, and to pray for a good flow of verse.' 'Ah,' I sighed, 'if
prayers would do it! in that case _I_ should have given Demosthenes a
worrying for assistance against _his_ birthday. If prayers availed, I
would join my wishes to yours; for the boons we desire are the same.'
'Well, I put down to Homer,' he replied, 'my facility of this night and
morning; ardours divine and mystic have possessed me. But you shall
judge. Here are my tablets, which I have brought with designs upon any
idle friend I might light upon; and you, I rejoice to see, are idle.'
'Ah, you lucky man!' I exclaimed; 'you are like the winner of the three
miles, who had washed off the dust, and could amuse himself for the
rest of the day. He was minded to crack a story with the wrestler, when
the wrestling was next on the programme; but the wrestler asked him
whether he had felt like cracking stories when he toed the line just
now. You have won your poetic three miles, and want me to minister to
your amusement just as I am shivering at the thought of my hundred
yards.' He laughed: 'Why, how will it make things worse for you?'
'Ah, you probably consider Demosthenes of much less account than Homer.
_You_ are very proud of your eulogy on Homer; and is Demosthenes a
light matter to _me_?' 'A trumped up charge,' he exclaimed; 'I am not
going to sow dissension between these two mighty ones, though it is
true my own allegiance is rather to Homer.'
'Good,' I said, 'and you must allow me to give mine to Demosthenes.
But, though you do not disqualify my subject, I am sure you think
poetry the only real treatment; you feel about mere rhetoric what the
cavalryman feels as he gallops past the infantry.' 'I hope I am not
so mad as that,' he said, 'though a considerable touch of madness is
required of him who would pass the gates of poetry.' 'If you come to
that, prose cannot do without some divine inspiration either, if it
is not to be flat and common.' He admitted that at once: 'I often
delight myself with comparing passages from Demosthenes and other prose
writers with Homer in point of vehemence, pungency, fire. "Flown with
wine" I pair off against the revellings and dancings and debauchery of
Philip; "One presage that ne'er fails[18]" finds its counterpart in
"It is for brave men, founding themselves upon brave hopes--"; "How
would old Peleus, lord of steeds, repine--" is matched by "What a cry
of lamentation would go up from the men of those days who laid down
their lives for glory and freedom--"; "fluent Python" reminds me of
Odysseus's "snow-flake speech"; "If 'twere our lot neither to age nor
die," I illustrate by "For every man's life must end in death, though
he shut himself up in a narrow chamber for safer keeping." In fact the
instances are numberless in which they attack their meaning by the same
road.
'I love too to study his feelings and moods and transitions, the
variety with which he combats weariness, his resumptions after
digression, the charm of his opportune illustrations, and the
never-failing native purity of his style.
'It has often struck me about Demosthenes--for I will tell the whole
truth out--that that looser of the bonds of speech rebukes Athenian
slackness with a dignity that is lacking in the "Greekesses" used by
Homer of the Greeks; and again he maintains the tragic intensity proper
to the great Hellenic drama more consistently than the poet who inserts
speeches at the very crisis of battle and allows energy to evaporate in
words.