Chapter 7

If all go right, I’m a made man for ever;But,—if we slip—we’re ruined past redemption.

Blepsidemus thinks he sees the state of the case. This sudden wealth, this fear of possible disaster,—the man has robbed a temple, or something of that kind, it is evident; and he tells him so. In vain does Chremylus protest his innocence. Blepsidemus will not believe him, and regards him with pious horror:—

Alack! that in this world there is no honesty,But every man is a mere slave to pelf!Chr.Heaven help the man!—has he gone mad on a sudden?Bl.(looking at Chremylus, and half aside). What a sad change from his old honest ways!Chr.You’ve lost your wits, sirrah, by all that’s good!Bl.And his eyes quail—he dares not meet my look—For damning guilt stands written in his face!Chr.Ha! now I see! you take me for a thief,And would go shares, then, would ye?Bl.(eagerly).Shares? in what?Chr.Stuff! don’t be a fool! ’tis quite another matter.Bl.(in a whisper). Not a mere larceny then, but—robbery?Chr.(getting angry). I say, no.Bl.(confidentially). Hark ye, old friend—for a mere trifle, look you,I’ll undertake, before this gets abroad,To hush it up,—I’ll bribe the prosecutors.

Chremylus has great difficulty in making his conscientious friend understand the real position—that he has Wealth in person come to be his guest, and means to keep him, if possible. But the god is blind at present, and the first thing to be done is to get him restored to sight. “Blind! is he really?” says Blepsidemus; “then no wonder he never found his way to my house!” They agree that the best means to effect a cure is to make him pass the night in the temple of Æsculapius; and this they are proceeding to arrange, when they are interrupted by the appearance of a very ill-looking lady. It is Poverty, who comes to put a stop, if it may be, to a revolution which threatens to banish her altogether from Athens. Chremylus fails to recognise her, in spite of a long practical acquaintanceship. Blepsidemus at first thinks she must be one of the Furies out of the tragedy repertory, by her grim visage and squalid habit. But the moment he learns who his friend’s visitor really is, he takes to flight at once—as is the way of the world—scared at her very appearance. He is persuaded, however, to return and listen to what the goddess has to say. She proceeds to explain the great mistake that will be made for the true interest of the citizens, if she be really banished from the city. For she it is who is their real benefactor, as she assures them, and not Wealth. All the real blessings of mankind come from the hand of Poverty. This Chremylus will by no means admit. It is possible that Wealth may have done some harm heretofore by inadvertence; but if this blessed guest can once recover his sight, then will he for the future visit only the upright and the virtuous; and so will all men—as soon as virtue and honesty become the only introduction to Wealth—be very sure to practise them. Poverty continues to argue the point in the presence of the Chorus of rustic neighbours, who now come on the stage, and naturally take a very warm interest in the question. She contends that were it not for the stimulus which she continually applies, the work of the world would stand still. No man would learn or exercise any trade or calling. There would be neither smith, nor shipwright, nor tailor, nor shoemaker, nor wheelwright—nay, there would be none either to plough or sow, if all alike were rich. “Nonsense,” interposes Chremylus, “the slaves would do it.” But there would be no slaves, the goddess reminds him, if there were no Poverty. It is Wealth, on the other hand, that gives men the gout, makes them corpulent and thick-legged, wheezy and pursy; “while I,” says Poverty, “make them strong and wiry, with waists like wasps—ay, and with stings for their enemies.” “Look at your popular leaders” (for the satirist never spares the demagogues)—“so long as they continue poor, they are honest enough; but when once they have grown rich at the public expense, they betray the public interest.” Chremylus confesses that here, at least, she speaks no more than the truth. But if such are the advantages which Poverty brings, he has a very natural question to ask—

How comes it then that all men flee thy face?Pov.Because I make men better.

But her pleading is in vain. “Away with yourrhetoric,” says Chremylus; “our ears are deaf to all such arguments.” He uses almost the very words of Sir Hudibras—

“He who complies against his will,Is of his own opinion still.”[54]

And an unanimous sentence of expulsion is passed against the unpopular deity, while Plutus is sent, under the escort of Cario, with bed and bedding, to take up his quarters for the night in the temple of Æsculapius, there to invoke the healing power which can restore his sight.

An interval of time unusually long for the Athenian drama is supposed to elapse between this and what we may call the second act of the comedy—the break in the action having been most probably marked by a chant from the Chorus, which has not, however, come down to us in the manuscripts. The scene reopens with the return of Cario from the temple on the morning following.

The resort to Æsculapius has been entirely successful. But Aristophanes does not miss the opportunity of sharp satire upon the gross materialities of the popular creed and the tricks of priestcraft. Cario informs his mistress and the Chorus, who come to inquire the result, that the god has performed the cure in person—going round the beds of the patients, who lay there awaiting his visit, for all the world like a modern hospital surgeon, making his diagnosis of eachcase, with an assistant following him with pestle and mortar and portable medicine-chest. Plutus had been cured almost instantaneously—quicker, as the narrator impudently tells his mistress, than she could toss off half-a-dozen glasses of wine. But one Neoclides, who had come there on the same errand (though, blind as he was, observes Cario, not the sharpest-sighted of them all could match him in stealing), fares very differently at the hands of the god of medicine; for Æsculapius applies to his eyes a lotion of garlic and vinegar, which makes him roar with pain, and leaves him blinder than ever. Another secret of the temple, too, the cunning varlet has seen, while he was pretending to be asleep like the rest. He saw the priests go round quietly, after the lamps were put out, and eat all the cakes and fruit brought by the patients as offerings to the god. He took the liberty, he says—“thinking it must be a very holy practice”—of following their example, and so got possession of a pudding which an old lady, one of the patients, had placed carefully by her bedside for her supper, and on which he had set his heart when first he saw it. His mistress is shocked at such profanity.

Unhallowed varlet! didst not fear the god?Cario.Marry did I, and sorely—lest his godshipShould get the start of me, and grab the dish.But the old lady, when she heard me coming,Put her hand out; and so I gave a hiss,And bit her gently; ’twas the Holy Snake,She thought, and pulled her hand in, and lay still.

But the mistress of the house is too delighted withthe good news which Carlo has brought to chide him very severely for his irreverence. She orders her maids at once to prepare a banquet for the return of this blessed guest, who presently reappears, attended by Chremylus and a troop of friends. Plutus salutes his new home in a burlesque of the high vein of tragedy:—

All hail! thou first, O bright and blessed sun,And thou, fair plain, where awful Pallas dwells,And this Cecropian land, henceforth mine home!I blush to mind me of my past estate—Of the vile herd with whom I long consorted;While those who had been worthy of my friendshipI, poor blind wretch! unwittingly passed by.But now the wrong I did will I undo,And show henceforth to all mankind, that soreAgainst my will I kept bad company.

[Enter Chremylus, surrounded and followed by a crowd of congratulating friends, whom he thrusts aside right and left.]

Chr.To the devil with you all—d’ye hear, good people!Why, what a plague friends are on these occasions!One hatches them in swarms, when one gets money.They nudge my sides, and pat me on the back,And smother me with tokens of affection;Men bow to me I never saw before;And all the pompous dawdlers in the SquareFind me the very centre of attraction!

Even his wife is unusually affectionate; and the welcome guest is ushered into the house with choral dance and song—highly burlesque, no doubt; but both are lost to us, and such losses are not always to be regretted.

The scene which follows introduces Cario in a state of great contentment with the new order of things. It is possible that, as in ‘The Knights,’ there was an entire change of scenery as well as of dresses at this point of the performance; that the ancient country grange has been transmuted into a grand modern mansion, with all the appliances of wealth and luxury. At all events, Cario (who from a rustic slave has now become quite a “gentleman’s gentleman”) informs the Chorus, who listen to him open-mouthed, that such has been the result of entertaining Plutus.

Cario(stroking himself). Oh what a blessed thing, good friends, is riches!And with no toil or trouble of our own!Lo, there is store of all good things within,Yea, heaped upon us—yet we’ve cheated no one!Our meal-chest’s brimming with the finest boltings,The cellar’s stocked with wine—of such a bouquet!And every pot and pan in the house is heapedWith gold and silver—it’s a sight to see!The well runs oil—the very mustard-potHas nothing but myrrh in it, and you can’t get upInto the garret, it’s so full of figs.The crockery’s bronze, the wooden bowls are silver,And the oven’s made of ivory. In the kitchen,We play at pitch-and-toss with golden pieces;And scent ourselves (so delicate are we grown) with—garlic.[55]As to my master, he’s within there, sacrificingA hog and a goat and a ram, full drest, good soul!But the smoke drove me out—(affectedly)—I cannotstand it.I’m rather sensitive, and smoke hurts my eyelids.

The happy results of the new administration are further shown in the cases of some other characters who now come upon the scene. An Honest Man, who has spent his fortune on his friends and met with nothing but ingratitude in return, now finds his wealth suddenly restored to him, and comes to dedicate to the god who has been his benefactor the threadbare cloak and worn-out shoes which he had been lately reduced to wear. A public Informer—that hateful character whom the comic dramatist was never tired of holding up to the execration of his audience—has now found his business fail him, and threatens that, if there be any law or justice left in Athens, this god who leaves the poor knaves to starve shall be made blind again. Cario—quite in the spirit of the clown in a modern pantomime—strips him of his fine clothes, puts the honest man’s ragged cloak on him instead, hangs the old shoes round his neck, and kicks him off the stage, howling out that he will surely “lay an information.” An old lady who has lost her young lover, as soon as under the new dispensation she lost the charms of her money, in vain appeals to Chremylus, as having influence with this reformed government, to obtain her somemeasure of justice. Not only the world of men, but the world of gods, is out of joint. In the last scene, Mercury knocks at the door of Chremylus. He has brought a terrible message from Jupiter. He orders Cario to bring out the whole family—“master, mistress, children, slaves—and the dog—and himself—and the pig,” and the rest of the brutes, that they may all be thrown together into the Barathrum—the punishment inflicted on malefactors of the deepest dye. Cario answers the Olympian messenger with a courtesy as scant as his own; under the newrégime, he and his master are become very independent of Jupiter. “You’d be none the worse for a slice off your tongue, young fellow,” says the mortal servant to him of Olympus; “why, what’s the matter?” “Matter enough,” answers Mercury:—

Why, ye have wrought the very vilest deed;Since Plutus yonder got his sight again,No man doth offer frankincense or bays,Or honey-cake or victim or aught else,To us poor gods.Car.Nay, nor will offer, now;Ye took poor care of us when wewerepious.Mer.As for the other gods, I care not much;But ’tis myself I pity.Car.You’re right there.Mer.Why, in the good old times, from every shopI got good things,—rich wine-cakes, honey, figs,Fit for a god like Mercury to eat;But now I lie and sleep to cheat my hunger.Car.It serves you right; you never did much good.Mer.Oh for those noble cheesecakes, rich and brown!Car.’Tis no use calling—cheesecakes an’t in season.Mer.O those brave gammons that I once enjoyed!Car.Don’t gammon me—be off with you to—heaven!

Mercury begs him at last, for old acquaintance’ sake, and in remembrance of the many little scrapes which his pilfering propensities would have brought him into with his master, but that he, the god of craft, helped him out of them,—to have a little fellow-feeling for a servant out of place and thrown upon his own finding. Is there no place for him in Chremylus’s household? What? says Cario; would he leave Olympus and take service with mortals? Certainly he would—the living and the perquisites are so much better. Would he turn deserter? asks the other (deserter being a word of abomination to Greek ears). The god replies in words which seem to be a quotation or a parody from some of the tragic poets—

That soil is fatherland which feeds us best.

The dialogue which follows is an amusing play upon the various offices assigned to Mercury, who was a veritable Jack-of-all-trades in the popular theology. The humour is very much lost in any English version, however free:—

Car.What place would suit you, now, suppose we hired you?Mer.I’ll turn my hand to anything you please;You know I’m called the “Turner.”Car.Yes, but nowLuck’s on our side, we want no turns at present.Mer.I’ll make your bargains for you.Car.Thankye, no—Now we’ve grown rich, we don’t much care for bargains.Mer.But I can cheat—Car.On no account—for shame!We well-to-do folks all go in for honesty.Mer.Let me be Guide, then.Car.Nay, our godship hereHas got his sight again, and needs no guiding.Mer.Well, Master of the revels? don’t say no—Wealth must have pleasures,—music, and all that.Car.(ironically turning to the audience). Why, what a lucky thing it is to be Jack-of-all-trades!Here’s a young man, now, who’s sure to make a living!(To Mercury.) Well—go and wash these tripes,—be quick—let’s seeWhat sort of training servants get in heaven.

If the gods are suffering from this social revolution in the world below, still more lamentable are its effects upon the staff of officials maintained in their temples. The priest of Jupiter the Protector—one of the most important ecclesiastical functionaries in Athens—enters in great distress.

Priest.Be good enough to tell me, where is Chremylus?Chr.(coming out). What is it, my good sir?Priest.What is it?—ruin!Why, since this Plutus has begun to see,I’m dying of starvation. Positively,I haven’t a crust to eat! I, my dear sir,The Priest of the Protector! think of that!Chr.Dear me! and what’s the reason, may I ask?Priest.Why, because everybody now is rich:Before, if timeswerebad, there still would comeSome merchant-captain home from time to time,And bring us thank-offerings for escape from wreck;Some lucky rogue, perhaps, who had got a verdict;Or some good man held a family sacrifice,And asked the priest, of course. But now no soulPays either vows or sacrifice, or comesTo the temple—save to shoot their rubbish there.Car.(half aside). You take your tithe of that, I warrant me.

Chremylus, whose good fortune in entertaining such a desirable guest has put him into good-humour with all the world, comforts the despairing official. The true Father Protector—the deity whom all men acknowledge—is here, he tells him, in the house. They mean to set him up permanently at Athens, in his proper place—the Public Treasury. And he shall be the minister of the new worship, if he likes to quit the service of Jupiter. The priest gladly consents, and an extempore procession is at once formed upon the stage, into which the old lady who has lost her lover is pressed, and persuaded to carry a slop-pail upon her head, to represent the maidens who, on such occasions, bore the lustral waters for the inauguration. Cario and the Chorus bring up the rear in an antic dance, and they proceed to establish at Athens, with all due formalities, the worship of Wealth alone.

This play, as we now have it (for it had been brought out in a different form twenty years before), shows evident signs of a transition in the character of Athenian comedy. It is less extravagant, and more domestic, and so far approaches more nearly to what is called the “New” Comedy, of which we know little except from a few fragmentary remains and from its Roman adapters, but of which our modern drama is the result. Possibly, now that the great war was over,and the spirit as well as the power of Athens was somewhat broken, Aristophanes no longer felt that deep personal interest in politics which has left such a mark on all his earlier pieces. Another reason for the change, independent of the public taste, seems to have been the growing parsimony in the expenditure of public money on such performances. Critics have detected, in the character of the Chorus of ‘The Ecclesiazusæ,’ exhibited five years previously, in which the masks and dresses for a body of old women could have involved but little expense in comparison with the elaborate mounting of such plays as ‘The Birds’ and ‘Wasps,’ an accommodation to this new spirit of economy; and the same remark has been made as to the poverty of the musical portion of the play. The same may be said of the Chorus of rustics in this latter drama. ‘Plutus’ was the last comedy put upon the stage by Aristophanes himself, though two pieces which he had composed, of which we know little more than the titles, were exhibited in his name, after his death, by his son. They appear to have approached still more nearly, in their plot and general character, to our modern notions of a comedy than even ‘Plutus.’ Whether the author made any important alterations in this second edition of the play is not known; but in its present state, the piece seems to want something of his old dash and vigour. He was getting an old man; and probably some young aspirants to dramatic fame remarked upon his failing powers in somewhat the same terms as those in which, thirty-seven years before, he had spoken of his elder rival Cratinus—

“The keys work loose, the strings are slack, the melodies a jar.”[56]

If so, Aristophanes never challenged and won the dramatic crown again, as Cratinus had done, to confound his younger critics. The curtain was soon about to fall for him altogether. He died a year or two afterwards.

END OF ARISTOPHANES.PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS, EDINBURGH.

FOOTNOTES:[1]Introd. to ‘Cicero’ (A. C.)[2]“Here, in his native tongue and among his own countrymen, Punch is a person of real power: he dresses up and retails all the drolleries of the day; he is the channel and sometimes the source of the passing opinions; he could gain a mob, or keep the whole kingdom in good humour.”—Forsyth’s Italy, ii. 35.[3]See ‘Æschylus’ (A. C.), chap. i.[4]The appeal which Harpagon makes to the audience to help him to discover the thief who has stolen his money (‘L’Avare,’ act iv. sc. 7) is an exact parallel with that of the two slaves in ‘The Knights’ (see p. 18), and again in ‘The Wasps,’ when they come forward and consult them confidentially in their difficulties.[5]The Knights, I. 233.[6]The Clouds.[7]The Frogs, l. 1073.[8]Alluding to the passion of the Athenian citizens for the law-courts, in which the verdict was given by depositing in the ballot-boxes a black or white bean or pebble.[9]This affair at Pylos is so repeatedly alluded to in this comedy, that at the risk of telling what to many readers is a well-known story, some explanation must be given here. About six months before this performance took place, a detachment of four hundred Spartans, who had been landed on the little island of Sphacteria, which closes in the Bay of Pylos (the modern Navarino), had been cut off by an Athenian squadron under Eurymedon and Demosthenes, and were closely blockaded there, in the hope of starving them into surrender. The Spartans offered terms of peace, for the men were all citizens of Sparta itself, and their loss would have been a calamity to the state. The proposal was refused by the triumphant Athenians; but afterwards the blockade was not maintained effectively, and the capitulation became doubtful. At this juncture, Cleon came forward in the Assembly, and boasted loudly that, if the command were given to him, he would bring the men prisoners to Athens within twenty days. He was taken at his word; and possibly to his own surprise, and certainly to the dismay of his political opponents, he made his boast good. The constant sneers at this exploit on the part of Cleon’s enemies seem to prove that it was not the mere piece of good luck which they represented it.[10]“A general feature of human nature, nowhere more observable than among boys at school, where the poor timid soul is always despatched upon the most perilous expeditions. Nicias is the fag—Demosthenes the big boy.”—Frere.The influence of oracles on the public mind at Athens during the Peloponnesian War is notorious matter of history.[11]The Senate was an elective Upper Chamber, in which all “bills” were brought in and discussed, before they were put to the vote in the General Assembly.[12]This Chorus has been imitated, in the true Aristophanic vein, by Mr Trevelyan, in his ‘Ladies in Parliament:’—“We much revere our sires, who were a mighty race of men;For every glass of port we drink, they nothing thought of ten.They dwelt above the foulest drains: they breathed the closest air:They had their yearly twinge of gout, and little seemed to care.They set those meddling people down for Jacobins or fools,Who talked of public libraries and grants to normal schools;Since common folks who read and write, and like their betters speak,Want something more than pipes and beer, and sermons once a-week.And therefore both by land and sea their match they rarely met,But made the name of Britain great, and ran her deep in debt.They seldom stopped to count the foe, nor sum the moneys spent,But clenched their teeth, and straight ahead with sword and musket went.And, though they thought if trade were free that England ne’er would thrive,They freely gave their blood for Moore, and Wellington, and Clive.And though they burned their coal at home, nor fetched their ice from Wenham,They played the man before Quebec, and stormed the lines at Blenheim.When sailors lived on mouldy bread, and lumps of rusty pork,No Frenchman dared his nose to show between the Downs and Cork;But now that Jack gets beef and greens, and next his skin wears flannel,The ‘Standard’ says, we’ve not a ship in plight to keep the Channel.”[13]Karkinos (Crab) was an indifferent tragedian of the day, some of whose lines are here parodied.[14]See note, p. 19.[15]The speech of a late member for Sheffield—much missed in the House, and whom it would be most unfair to compare with Cleon—will occur to many readers: “I’m Tear’em.”[16]A parody on the touching farewell of Alcestis to her nuptial chamber, in the tragedy of Euripides:—“Farewell! and she who takes my place—may sheBe happier!—truer wife she cannot be.”[17]Preface to The Knights.[18]Half the joke is irreparably lost in English. The Greek word for “treaty” or “truce” meant literally the “libation” of wine with which the terms were ratified.[19]Which each soldier was required to take with him on the march.[20]Telephus, Philoctetes, Bellerophon, and probably other tragedy heroes, were all represented by Euripides as lame. But no one could possibly have made greater capital out of the physical sufferings of Philoctetes from his lame foot than the author’s favourite Sophocles.[21]Of course every Athenian would be amused by the parody of the well-remembered scene in the Iliad:—“The babe clung crying to his nurse’s breast,Scared at the dazzling helm and nodding crest.With secret pleasure each fond parent smiled,And Hector hastened to relieve his child;The glittering terrors from his brow unbound,And placed the beaming helmet on the ground.”[22]Their reputation has continued down to modern days. “I was able to partake of some fine eels of an extraordinary size, which had been sent to us by the Greek primates of the city. They were caught in the Lake Copais, which, as in ancient times, still supplies the country round with game and wild-fowl.”—Hughes’s Travels in Greece, i. 33. (Note to Walsh’s Aristophanes.)[23]The old commentators assign the story to Æsop. The eagle had eaten the beetle’s young ones; the beetle, in revenge, rolled the eagle’s eggs out of her nest: so often, that the latter made complaint to her patron Jupiter, who gave her leave to lay her eggs in his bosom. The beetle flew up to heaven, and buzzed about the god’s head, who jumped up in a hurry to catch his tormentor, quite forgetting his duty as nurse, and so the eggs fell out and were broken.[24]Her name, like most of those used in these comedies, is significant. It means, “Dissolver of the Army.”[25]Hom. Iliad, vi. 490. Hector to Andromache:—“No more—but hasten to thy tasks at home;There guide the spindle and direct the loom.”—Pope.[26]Susarion. So also the Roman censor, Metellus Numidicus: “It is not possible to live with them in any comfort—or to live without them at all.”—Aul. Gellius, i. 6.[27]Lucian, Dial. ‘Piscator.’[28]For fear lest they should desert at once to the enemy.[29]Names thus compounded with ‘ippos’ (‘horse’) were much affected by the Athenian aristocracy. ‘Pheidōn,’ on the other hand, in the proposed name Pheidōnides, means ‘economical.’[30]A caricature of the doctrine of Heraclitus, that Heat was the great principle of all things.[31]Eubœa had revolted from its allegiance to Athens some years before this war. Pericles had swept the island with an overwhelming force, banished the chiefs of the oligarchical party, and distributed their lands amongst colonists from Athens.[32]The Greek commentators inform us very particularly by what appliances thunder was imitated on the Athenian stage; either “by rolling leather bags full of pebbles down sheets of brass,” or by “pouring them into a huge brazen caldron.” (See note to Walsh’s Aristoph., p. 302.) But Greek commentators are not to be depended upon in such matters.[33]A doctrine taught by the philosopher Anaxagoras, whose lectures Socrates is said to have attended.[34]A hit, no doubt, at theories of education which were in fashion then, and which have been revived in modern days. Plato, in his treatise on Legislation, advises that the child who is intended for an architect should be encouraged to build toy-houses, the future farmer to make little gardens, &c.—(De Leg., i. 643.)[35]Some of the old commentators say that the disputants were brought upon the stage in the guise of game-cocks; but there are no allusions in the dialogue to justify such an interpretation of the scene.[36]See Plato’s Republic, Book I. Of course it must be remembered that we have here only the representation of Thrasymachus’s teaching as given by an opponent. As Mr Grote fairly remarks: “How far the real Thrasymachus may have argued in the slashing and offensive style here described, we have no means of deciding.”—Grote’s Plato, i. 145.[37]See p. 8.[38]See p. 92.[39]Dialog. Icaro-Menippus.[40]The names in the Greek are significant. “Philocleon” means “friend of Cleon” (who represents litigation, as he does most other things which are bad, in the view of Aristophanes); “Bdelycleon,” the name of the son, means “hater of Cleon.”[41]The Athenians affected to wear a golden grasshopper in their hair, as being “sprung from the soil.”[42]K. Henry IV., Pt. ii., act iii. sc. 2.[43]There is a political allusion here to the conduct of Laches, (whose name is slightly modified), an Athenian admiral accused at the time of taking bribes in Sicily.[44]This scene has been borrowed by Racine (Les Plaideurs, act iii. sc. 3.) The French dramatist has added, as to the behaviour of the puppies in court, a touch of his own which is very Aristophanic indeed. Ben Jonson has also adapted the idea in his play of ‘The Staple of News’ (act v. sc. 2), where he makes the miser Pennyboy sit in judgment on his two dogs. It is somewhat surprising that two such authors should have considered an incident which, after all, is not so very humorous, worth making prize of.[45]If the reader would like to see how thoroughly this kind of humour is in the spirit of modern burlesque, he cannot do better than glance at Mr Planché’s “Birds of Aristophanes,” produced at the Haymarket in 1846. This is his free version of the passage just noticed—(‘Tomostyleron’ and ‘Jackanoxides’ are the two adventurers of the Greek comedy):—“King of Birds.And what bird will you be—a popinjay?Tom.No, no; they pop at him. (To Jack.) What kind would you be?King(aside). The bird you’re most akin to is a booby.Jack.For fear of accidents, some fowl I’d be,That folks don’t shoot or eat.Tom.Humph! let me see—There may be one I never heard the name of.King(aside). You can’t be anything they won’t makegameof.”[46]The play on the names is, of course, not the same in the Greek as in the English. Mr Frere has perhaps managed it as well as it could be done.[47]A sort of Night-hag belonging to Hecate, which assumed various shapes to terrify belated travellers at cross-roads.[48]The priests of Bacchus had probably (and very naturally) a reputation asbons vivants. At all events, they gave a sumptuous official entertainment at these dramatic festivals.[49]We find something of this professionalbadinageto the audience in Shakspeare’s “Hamlet” (act v. sc. i.):—Ham.Marry, why was he sent into England?1st Grave-d.Why, because he was mad: he shall recover his wits there; or if he do not, ’tis no great matter there.Ham.Why?1st Gr.’Twill not be seen in him there—there the men are as mad as he.[50]See, however, on this question, ‘Euripides’ (Anc. Cl.), p. 37, &c.[51]Perhaps his most bitter words are those addressed to Phædra by Bellerophon, in the lost tragedy of that name,—“O thou most vile! thou—woman!—For what wordThat lips could frame could carry more reproach?”But we must not forget Shakspeare’s—“Frailty, thy name is woman!” or judge the poet too harshly by a passionate expression put into the mouth of one of his characters.[52]The “situation” seems to have been a favourite one. It may be remembered in Kotzebue’s play, which Sheridan turned into ‘Pizarro,’ in the scene where Rolla carries off Cora’s child.[53]Tennyson’s ‘Princess.’[54]“I’ll not be convinced, even if you convince me,” are his words.[55]This is a good instance of those jokes “contrary to expectation” (as the Greek term has it) which are very common in these comedies, but which can very seldom be reproduced, for more reasons than one, in an English version. Of course the audience were led to expect something more fragrant than “garlic.” We are accustomed to something of the same kind in the puns which frequently conclude a line in our modern burlesques. In neither case, perhaps, is the wit of the highest order.Mr Walsh, in the preface to his ‘Aristophanes’ (p. viii), illustrates not inaptly this style of jest by a comparison with Goldsmith’s “Elegy on the Glory of her sex, Mrs Mary Blaize.”[56]The Knights, l. 532.

FOOTNOTES:

[1]Introd. to ‘Cicero’ (A. C.)

[2]“Here, in his native tongue and among his own countrymen, Punch is a person of real power: he dresses up and retails all the drolleries of the day; he is the channel and sometimes the source of the passing opinions; he could gain a mob, or keep the whole kingdom in good humour.”—Forsyth’s Italy, ii. 35.

[3]See ‘Æschylus’ (A. C.), chap. i.

[4]The appeal which Harpagon makes to the audience to help him to discover the thief who has stolen his money (‘L’Avare,’ act iv. sc. 7) is an exact parallel with that of the two slaves in ‘The Knights’ (see p. 18), and again in ‘The Wasps,’ when they come forward and consult them confidentially in their difficulties.

[5]The Knights, I. 233.

[6]The Clouds.

[7]The Frogs, l. 1073.

[8]Alluding to the passion of the Athenian citizens for the law-courts, in which the verdict was given by depositing in the ballot-boxes a black or white bean or pebble.

[9]This affair at Pylos is so repeatedly alluded to in this comedy, that at the risk of telling what to many readers is a well-known story, some explanation must be given here. About six months before this performance took place, a detachment of four hundred Spartans, who had been landed on the little island of Sphacteria, which closes in the Bay of Pylos (the modern Navarino), had been cut off by an Athenian squadron under Eurymedon and Demosthenes, and were closely blockaded there, in the hope of starving them into surrender. The Spartans offered terms of peace, for the men were all citizens of Sparta itself, and their loss would have been a calamity to the state. The proposal was refused by the triumphant Athenians; but afterwards the blockade was not maintained effectively, and the capitulation became doubtful. At this juncture, Cleon came forward in the Assembly, and boasted loudly that, if the command were given to him, he would bring the men prisoners to Athens within twenty days. He was taken at his word; and possibly to his own surprise, and certainly to the dismay of his political opponents, he made his boast good. The constant sneers at this exploit on the part of Cleon’s enemies seem to prove that it was not the mere piece of good luck which they represented it.

[10]“A general feature of human nature, nowhere more observable than among boys at school, where the poor timid soul is always despatched upon the most perilous expeditions. Nicias is the fag—Demosthenes the big boy.”—Frere.The influence of oracles on the public mind at Athens during the Peloponnesian War is notorious matter of history.

The influence of oracles on the public mind at Athens during the Peloponnesian War is notorious matter of history.

[11]The Senate was an elective Upper Chamber, in which all “bills” were brought in and discussed, before they were put to the vote in the General Assembly.

[12]This Chorus has been imitated, in the true Aristophanic vein, by Mr Trevelyan, in his ‘Ladies in Parliament:’—“We much revere our sires, who were a mighty race of men;For every glass of port we drink, they nothing thought of ten.They dwelt above the foulest drains: they breathed the closest air:They had their yearly twinge of gout, and little seemed to care.They set those meddling people down for Jacobins or fools,Who talked of public libraries and grants to normal schools;Since common folks who read and write, and like their betters speak,Want something more than pipes and beer, and sermons once a-week.And therefore both by land and sea their match they rarely met,But made the name of Britain great, and ran her deep in debt.They seldom stopped to count the foe, nor sum the moneys spent,But clenched their teeth, and straight ahead with sword and musket went.And, though they thought if trade were free that England ne’er would thrive,They freely gave their blood for Moore, and Wellington, and Clive.And though they burned their coal at home, nor fetched their ice from Wenham,They played the man before Quebec, and stormed the lines at Blenheim.When sailors lived on mouldy bread, and lumps of rusty pork,No Frenchman dared his nose to show between the Downs and Cork;But now that Jack gets beef and greens, and next his skin wears flannel,The ‘Standard’ says, we’ve not a ship in plight to keep the Channel.”

[12]This Chorus has been imitated, in the true Aristophanic vein, by Mr Trevelyan, in his ‘Ladies in Parliament:’—

“We much revere our sires, who were a mighty race of men;For every glass of port we drink, they nothing thought of ten.They dwelt above the foulest drains: they breathed the closest air:They had their yearly twinge of gout, and little seemed to care.They set those meddling people down for Jacobins or fools,Who talked of public libraries and grants to normal schools;Since common folks who read and write, and like their betters speak,Want something more than pipes and beer, and sermons once a-week.And therefore both by land and sea their match they rarely met,But made the name of Britain great, and ran her deep in debt.They seldom stopped to count the foe, nor sum the moneys spent,But clenched their teeth, and straight ahead with sword and musket went.And, though they thought if trade were free that England ne’er would thrive,They freely gave their blood for Moore, and Wellington, and Clive.And though they burned their coal at home, nor fetched their ice from Wenham,They played the man before Quebec, and stormed the lines at Blenheim.When sailors lived on mouldy bread, and lumps of rusty pork,No Frenchman dared his nose to show between the Downs and Cork;But now that Jack gets beef and greens, and next his skin wears flannel,The ‘Standard’ says, we’ve not a ship in plight to keep the Channel.”

[13]Karkinos (Crab) was an indifferent tragedian of the day, some of whose lines are here parodied.

[14]See note, p. 19.

[15]The speech of a late member for Sheffield—much missed in the House, and whom it would be most unfair to compare with Cleon—will occur to many readers: “I’m Tear’em.”

[16]A parody on the touching farewell of Alcestis to her nuptial chamber, in the tragedy of Euripides:—“Farewell! and she who takes my place—may sheBe happier!—truer wife she cannot be.”

[16]A parody on the touching farewell of Alcestis to her nuptial chamber, in the tragedy of Euripides:—

“Farewell! and she who takes my place—may sheBe happier!—truer wife she cannot be.”

[17]Preface to The Knights.

[18]Half the joke is irreparably lost in English. The Greek word for “treaty” or “truce” meant literally the “libation” of wine with which the terms were ratified.

[19]Which each soldier was required to take with him on the march.

[20]Telephus, Philoctetes, Bellerophon, and probably other tragedy heroes, were all represented by Euripides as lame. But no one could possibly have made greater capital out of the physical sufferings of Philoctetes from his lame foot than the author’s favourite Sophocles.

[21]Of course every Athenian would be amused by the parody of the well-remembered scene in the Iliad:—“The babe clung crying to his nurse’s breast,Scared at the dazzling helm and nodding crest.With secret pleasure each fond parent smiled,And Hector hastened to relieve his child;The glittering terrors from his brow unbound,And placed the beaming helmet on the ground.”

[21]Of course every Athenian would be amused by the parody of the well-remembered scene in the Iliad:—

“The babe clung crying to his nurse’s breast,Scared at the dazzling helm and nodding crest.With secret pleasure each fond parent smiled,And Hector hastened to relieve his child;The glittering terrors from his brow unbound,And placed the beaming helmet on the ground.”

[22]Their reputation has continued down to modern days. “I was able to partake of some fine eels of an extraordinary size, which had been sent to us by the Greek primates of the city. They were caught in the Lake Copais, which, as in ancient times, still supplies the country round with game and wild-fowl.”—Hughes’s Travels in Greece, i. 33. (Note to Walsh’s Aristophanes.)

[23]The old commentators assign the story to Æsop. The eagle had eaten the beetle’s young ones; the beetle, in revenge, rolled the eagle’s eggs out of her nest: so often, that the latter made complaint to her patron Jupiter, who gave her leave to lay her eggs in his bosom. The beetle flew up to heaven, and buzzed about the god’s head, who jumped up in a hurry to catch his tormentor, quite forgetting his duty as nurse, and so the eggs fell out and were broken.

[24]Her name, like most of those used in these comedies, is significant. It means, “Dissolver of the Army.”

[25]Hom. Iliad, vi. 490. Hector to Andromache:—“No more—but hasten to thy tasks at home;There guide the spindle and direct the loom.”—Pope.

[25]Hom. Iliad, vi. 490. Hector to Andromache:—

“No more—but hasten to thy tasks at home;There guide the spindle and direct the loom.”—Pope.

[26]Susarion. So also the Roman censor, Metellus Numidicus: “It is not possible to live with them in any comfort—or to live without them at all.”—Aul. Gellius, i. 6.

[27]Lucian, Dial. ‘Piscator.’

[28]For fear lest they should desert at once to the enemy.

[29]Names thus compounded with ‘ippos’ (‘horse’) were much affected by the Athenian aristocracy. ‘Pheidōn,’ on the other hand, in the proposed name Pheidōnides, means ‘economical.’

[30]A caricature of the doctrine of Heraclitus, that Heat was the great principle of all things.

[31]Eubœa had revolted from its allegiance to Athens some years before this war. Pericles had swept the island with an overwhelming force, banished the chiefs of the oligarchical party, and distributed their lands amongst colonists from Athens.

[32]The Greek commentators inform us very particularly by what appliances thunder was imitated on the Athenian stage; either “by rolling leather bags full of pebbles down sheets of brass,” or by “pouring them into a huge brazen caldron.” (See note to Walsh’s Aristoph., p. 302.) But Greek commentators are not to be depended upon in such matters.

[33]A doctrine taught by the philosopher Anaxagoras, whose lectures Socrates is said to have attended.

[34]A hit, no doubt, at theories of education which were in fashion then, and which have been revived in modern days. Plato, in his treatise on Legislation, advises that the child who is intended for an architect should be encouraged to build toy-houses, the future farmer to make little gardens, &c.—(De Leg., i. 643.)

[35]Some of the old commentators say that the disputants were brought upon the stage in the guise of game-cocks; but there are no allusions in the dialogue to justify such an interpretation of the scene.

[36]See Plato’s Republic, Book I. Of course it must be remembered that we have here only the representation of Thrasymachus’s teaching as given by an opponent. As Mr Grote fairly remarks: “How far the real Thrasymachus may have argued in the slashing and offensive style here described, we have no means of deciding.”—Grote’s Plato, i. 145.

[37]See p. 8.

[38]See p. 92.

[39]Dialog. Icaro-Menippus.

[40]The names in the Greek are significant. “Philocleon” means “friend of Cleon” (who represents litigation, as he does most other things which are bad, in the view of Aristophanes); “Bdelycleon,” the name of the son, means “hater of Cleon.”

[41]The Athenians affected to wear a golden grasshopper in their hair, as being “sprung from the soil.”

[42]K. Henry IV., Pt. ii., act iii. sc. 2.

[43]There is a political allusion here to the conduct of Laches, (whose name is slightly modified), an Athenian admiral accused at the time of taking bribes in Sicily.

[44]This scene has been borrowed by Racine (Les Plaideurs, act iii. sc. 3.) The French dramatist has added, as to the behaviour of the puppies in court, a touch of his own which is very Aristophanic indeed. Ben Jonson has also adapted the idea in his play of ‘The Staple of News’ (act v. sc. 2), where he makes the miser Pennyboy sit in judgment on his two dogs. It is somewhat surprising that two such authors should have considered an incident which, after all, is not so very humorous, worth making prize of.

[45]If the reader would like to see how thoroughly this kind of humour is in the spirit of modern burlesque, he cannot do better than glance at Mr Planché’s “Birds of Aristophanes,” produced at the Haymarket in 1846. This is his free version of the passage just noticed—(‘Tomostyleron’ and ‘Jackanoxides’ are the two adventurers of the Greek comedy):—“King of Birds.And what bird will you be—a popinjay?Tom.No, no; they pop at him. (To Jack.) What kind would you be?King(aside). The bird you’re most akin to is a booby.Jack.For fear of accidents, some fowl I’d be,That folks don’t shoot or eat.Tom.Humph! let me see—There may be one I never heard the name of.King(aside). You can’t be anything they won’t makegameof.”

“King of Birds.And what bird will you be—a popinjay?Tom.No, no; they pop at him. (To Jack.) What kind would you be?King(aside). The bird you’re most akin to is a booby.Jack.For fear of accidents, some fowl I’d be,That folks don’t shoot or eat.Tom.Humph! let me see—There may be one I never heard the name of.King(aside). You can’t be anything they won’t makegameof.”

[46]The play on the names is, of course, not the same in the Greek as in the English. Mr Frere has perhaps managed it as well as it could be done.

[47]A sort of Night-hag belonging to Hecate, which assumed various shapes to terrify belated travellers at cross-roads.

[48]The priests of Bacchus had probably (and very naturally) a reputation asbons vivants. At all events, they gave a sumptuous official entertainment at these dramatic festivals.

[49]We find something of this professionalbadinageto the audience in Shakspeare’s “Hamlet” (act v. sc. i.):—Ham.Marry, why was he sent into England?1st Grave-d.Why, because he was mad: he shall recover his wits there; or if he do not, ’tis no great matter there.Ham.Why?1st Gr.’Twill not be seen in him there—there the men are as mad as he.

[49]We find something of this professionalbadinageto the audience in Shakspeare’s “Hamlet” (act v. sc. i.):—

Ham.Marry, why was he sent into England?1st Grave-d.Why, because he was mad: he shall recover his wits there; or if he do not, ’tis no great matter there.Ham.Why?1st Gr.’Twill not be seen in him there—there the men are as mad as he.

[50]See, however, on this question, ‘Euripides’ (Anc. Cl.), p. 37, &c.

[51]Perhaps his most bitter words are those addressed to Phædra by Bellerophon, in the lost tragedy of that name,—“O thou most vile! thou—woman!—For what wordThat lips could frame could carry more reproach?”But we must not forget Shakspeare’s—“Frailty, thy name is woman!” or judge the poet too harshly by a passionate expression put into the mouth of one of his characters.

[51]Perhaps his most bitter words are those addressed to Phædra by Bellerophon, in the lost tragedy of that name,—

“O thou most vile! thou—woman!—For what wordThat lips could frame could carry more reproach?”

But we must not forget Shakspeare’s—“Frailty, thy name is woman!” or judge the poet too harshly by a passionate expression put into the mouth of one of his characters.

[52]The “situation” seems to have been a favourite one. It may be remembered in Kotzebue’s play, which Sheridan turned into ‘Pizarro,’ in the scene where Rolla carries off Cora’s child.

[53]Tennyson’s ‘Princess.’

[54]“I’ll not be convinced, even if you convince me,” are his words.

[55]This is a good instance of those jokes “contrary to expectation” (as the Greek term has it) which are very common in these comedies, but which can very seldom be reproduced, for more reasons than one, in an English version. Of course the audience were led to expect something more fragrant than “garlic.” We are accustomed to something of the same kind in the puns which frequently conclude a line in our modern burlesques. In neither case, perhaps, is the wit of the highest order.Mr Walsh, in the preface to his ‘Aristophanes’ (p. viii), illustrates not inaptly this style of jest by a comparison with Goldsmith’s “Elegy on the Glory of her sex, Mrs Mary Blaize.”

Mr Walsh, in the preface to his ‘Aristophanes’ (p. viii), illustrates not inaptly this style of jest by a comparison with Goldsmith’s “Elegy on the Glory of her sex, Mrs Mary Blaize.”

[56]The Knights, l. 532.

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