the wrath of Achilles; he said it was all by chance. I desired likewise to know whether, as it was generally reported, he wrote the “Odyssey” before the “Iliad.” He said, no. It is commonly said he was blind, but I soon found he was not so; for he made use of his eyes and looked at me, so that I had no reason to ask him that question. Whenever I found him disengaged, I took the opportunity of conversing with him, and he very readily entered into discourse with me, especially after the victory which he obtained over Thersites, who had accused him of turning him into ridicule in some of his verses. The cause was heard before Rhadamanthus, and Homer came off victorious. Ulysses pleaded for him.
I met also Pythagoras the Samian, who arrived in these regions after his soul had gone a long round in the bodies of several animals, having been changed seven times. All his right side was of gold, and there was some dispute whether he should be called Pythagoras or Euphorbus. Empedocles came likewise, who looked sodden and roasted all over. He desired admittance, but though he begged hard for it, was rejected.
A little time after the games came on, which they call here Thanatusia. {126} Achilles presided for the fifth time, and Theseus for the seventh. A narrative of the whole would be tedious; I shall only, therefore, recount a few of the principal circumstances in the wrestling match. Carus, a descendant of Hercules, conquered Ulysses at the boxing match; Areus the Egyptian, who was buried at Corinth, and Epeus contended, but neither got the victory. The Pancratia was not proposed amongst them. In the race I do not remember who had the superiority. In poetry Homer was far beyond them all; Hesiod, however, got a prize. The reward to all was a garland of peacock’s feathers.
When the games were over word was brought that the prisoners in Tartarus had broken loose, overcome the guard, and were proceeding to take possession of the island under the command of Phalaris the Agrigentine, {127a} Busiris of Egypt, {127b} Diomede the Thracian, {128a} Scyron, {128b} and Pityocamptes. As soon as Rhadamanthus heard of it he despatched the heroes to the shore, conducted by Theseus, Achilles, and Ajax Telamonius, who was now returned to his senses. A battle ensued, wherein the heroes were victorious, owing principally to the valour of Achilles. Socrates, who was placed in the right wing, behaved much better than he had done at Delius {128c} in his life-time, for when the enemy approached he never fled, nor so much as turned his face about. He had a very extraordinary present made him as the reward of his courage, no less than a fine spacious garden near the city; here he summoned his friends and disputed, calling the place by the name of the Academy of the Dead. They then bound the prisoners and sent them back to Tartarus, to suffer double punishment. Homer wrote an account of this battle, and gave it me to show it to our people when I went back, but I lost it afterwards, together with a great many other things. It began thus–
“Sing, Muse, the battles of the heroes dead–“
The campaign thus happily finished, they made an entertainment to celebrate the victory, which, as is usual amongst them, was a bean- feast. Pythagoras alone absented himself on that day, and fasted, holding in abomination the wicked custom of eating beans.
Six months had now elapsed, when a new and extraordinary affair happened. Cinyrus, the son of Scintharus, a tall, well-made, handsome youth, fell in love with Helen, and she no less desperately with him. They were often nodding and drinking to one another at the public feasts, and would frequently rise up and walk out together alone into the wood. The violence of his passion, joined to the impossibility of possessing her any other way, put Cinyrus on the resolution of running away with her. She imagined that they might easily get off to some of the adjacent islands, either to Phellus or Tyroessa. He selected three of the bravest of our crew to accompany them; never mentioning the design to his father, who he knew would never consent to it, but the first favourable opportunity, put it in execution; and one night when I was not with them (for it happened that I stayed late at the feast, and slept there) carried her off.
Menelaus, rising in the middle of the night, and perceiving that his wife was gone, made a dreadful noise about it, and, taking his brother along with him, proceeded immediately to the king’s palace. At break of day the guards informed him that they had seen a vessel a good distance from land. He immediately put fifty heroes on board a ship made out of one large piece of the asphodelus, with orders to pursue them. They made all the sail they possibly could, and about noon came up with and seized on them, just as they were entering into the Milky Sea, close to Tyroessa; so near were they to making their escape. The pursuers threw a rosy chain over the vessel and brought her home again. Helen began to weep, blushed, and hid her face. Rhadamanthus asked Cinyrus and the rest of them if they had any more accomplices: they told him they had none. He then ordered them to be chained, whipped with mallows, and sent to Tartarus.
It was now determined that we should stay no longer on the island than the time limited, and the very next day was fixed for our departure. This gave me no little concern, and I wept to think I must leave so many good things, and be once more a wanderer. They endeavoured to administer consolation to me by assuring me that in a few years I should return to them again; they even pointed out the seat that should be allotted to me, and which was near the best and worthiest inhabitants of these delightful mansions. I addressed myself to Rhadamanthus, and humbly entreated him to inform me of my future fate, and let me know beforehand whether I should travel. He told me that, after many toils and dangers, I should at last return in safety to my native country, but would not point out the time when. He then showed me the neighbouring islands, five of which appeared near to me, and a sixth at a distance. “Those next to you,” said he, “where you see a great fire burning, are the habitations of the wicked; the sixth is the city of dreams; behind that lies the island of Calypso, which you cannot see yet. When you get beyond these you will come to a large tract of land inhabited by those who live on the side of the earth directly opposite to you, {132} there you will suffer many things, wander through several nations, and meet with some very savage and unsociable people, and at length get into another region.”
Having said thus, he took a root of mallow out of the earth, and putting it into my hand, bade me remember, when I was in any danger, to call upon that; and added, moreover, that if, when I came to the Antipodes, I took care “never to stir the fire with a sword, and never to eat lupines,” I might have hopes of returning to the Island of the Blessed.
I then got everything ready for the voyage, supped with, and took my leave of them. Next day, meeting Homer, I begged him to make me a couple of verses for an inscription, which he did, and I fixed them on a little column of beryl, at the mouth of the harbour; the inscription was as follows:
“Dear to the gods, and favourite of heaven, Here Lucian lived: to him alone ’twas given, Well pleased these happy regions to explore, And back returning, seek his native shore.”
I stayed that day, and the next set sail; the heroes attending to take their leave of us; when Ulysses, unknown to Penelope, slipped a letter into my hand for Calypso, at the island of Ogygia. Rhadamanthus was so obliging as to send with us Nauplius the pilot, that, if we stopped at the neighbouring islands, and they should lay hold on us, he might acquaint them that we were only on our passage to another place.
As soon as we got out of the sweet-scented air, we came into another that smelt of asphaltus, pitch, and sulphur burning together, with a most intolerable stench, as of burned carcases: the whole element above us was dark and dismal, distilling a kind of pitchy dew upon our heads; we heard the sound of stripes, and the yellings of men in torment.
We saw but one of these islands; that which we landed on I will give you some description of. Every part of it was steep and filthy, abounding in rocks and rough mountains. We crept along, over precipices full of thorns and briers, and, passing through a most horrid country, came to the dungeon, and place of punishment, which we beheld with an admiration full of horror: the ground was strewed with swords and prongs, and close to us were three rivers, one of mire, another of blood, and another of fire, immense and impassable, that flowed in torrents, and rolled like waves in the sea; it had many fish in it, some like torches, others resembling live coals; which they called lychnisci. There is but one entrance into the three rivers, and at the mouth of them stood, as porter, Timon of Athens. By the assistance, however, of our guide, Nauplius, we proceeded, and saw several punished, {135a} as well kings as private persons, and amongst these some of our old acquaintance; we saw Cinyrus, {135b} hung up and roasting there. Our guides gave us the history of several of them, and told us what they were punished for; those, we observed, suffered most severely who in their lifetimes had told lies, or written what was not true, amongst whom were Ctesias the Cnidian, Herodotus, and many others. When I saw these I began to conceive good hopes of hereafter, as I am not conscious of ever having told a story.
Not able to bear any longer such melancholy spectacles, we took our leave of Nauplius, and returned to our ship. In a short time after we had a view, but confused and indistinct, of the Island of Dreams, which itself was not unlike a dream, for as we approached towards it, it seemed as it were to retire and fly from us. At last, however, we got up to it, and entered the harbour, which is called Hypnus, {136a} near the ivory gates, where there is a harbour dedicated to the cock. {136b} We landed late in the evening, and saw several dreams of various kinds. I propose, however, at present, to give you an account of the place itself, which nobody has ever written about, except Homer, whose description is very imperfect.
Round the island is a very thick wood; the trees are all tall poppies, or mandragorae, {136c} in which are a great number of bats; for these are the only birds they have here; there is likewise a river which they call Nyctiporus, {136d} and round the gates two fountains: the name of one is Negretos, {137a} and of the other Pannychia. {137b} The city has a high wall, of all the colours of the rainbow. It has not two gates, as Homer {137c} tells us, but four; two of which look upon the plain of Indolence, one made of iron, the other of brick; through these are said to pass all the dreams that are frightful, bloody, and melancholy; the other two, fronting the sea and harbour, one of horn, the other, which we came through, of ivory; on the right hand, as you enter the city, is the temple of Night, who, together with the cock, is the principal object of worship amongst them. This is near the harbour; on the left is the palace of Somnus, for he is their sovereign, and under him are two viceroys, Taraxion, {138a} the son of Mataeogenes, and Plutocles, {138b} the son of Phantasion. In the middle of the market-place stands a fountain, which they call Careotis, {138c} and two temples of Truth and Falsehood; there is an oracle here, at which Antiphon presides as high-priest; he is inventor of the dreams, an honourable employment, which Somnus bestowed upon him.
The dreams themselves are of different kinds, some long, beautiful, and pleasant, others little and ugly; there are likewise some golden ones, others poor and mean; some winged and of an immense size, others tricked out as it were for pomps and ceremonies, for gods and kings; some we met with that we had seen at home; these came up to and saluted us as their old acquaintance, whilst others putting us first to sleep, treated us most magnificently, and promised that they would make us kings and noblemen: some carried us into our own country, showed us our friends and relations, and brought us back again the same day. Thirty days and nights we remained in this place, being most luxuriously feasted, and fast asleep all the time, when we were suddenly awaked by a violent clap of thunder, and immediately ran to our ship, put in our stores, and set sail. In three days we reached the island of Ogygia. Before we landed, I broke open the letter, and read the contents, which were as follows:
ULYSSES TO CALYPSO.
“This comes to inform you, that after my departure from your coasts in the vessel which you were so kind as to provide me with, I was shipwrecked, and saved with the greatest difficulty by Leucothea, who conveyed me to the country of the Phaeacians, and from thence I got home; where I found a number of suitors about my wife, revelling there at my expense. I destroyed every one of them, and was afterwards slain myself by Telegonus, a son whom I had by Circe. I still lament the pleasures which I left behind at Ogygia, and the immortality which you promised me; if I can ever find an opportunity, I will certainly make my escape from hence, and come to you.”
This was the whole of the epistle except, that at the end of it he recommended us to her protection.
On our landing, at a little distance from the sea, I found the cave, as described by Homer, and in it Calypso, spinning; she took the letter, put it in her bosom, and wept; then invited us to sit down, and treated us magnificently. She then asked us several questions about Ulysses, and inquired whether Penelope was handsome and as chaste as Ulysses had reported her to be. We answered her in such a manner as we thought would please her best; and then returning to our ship, slept on board close to the shore.
In the morning, a brisk gale springing up, we set sail. For two days we were tossed about in a storm; the third drove us on the pirates of Colocynthos. These are a kind of savages from the neighbouring islands, who commit depredations on all that sail that way. They have large ships made out of gourds, six cubits long; when the fruit is dry, they hollow and work it into this shape, using reeds for masts, and making their sails out of the leaves of the plant. They joined the crews of two ships and attacked us, wounding many of us with cucumber seeds, which they threw instead of stones. After fighting some time without any material advantage on either side, about noon we saw just behind them some of the Caryonautae, {141a} whom we found to be avowed enemies to the Colocynthites, {141b} who, on their coming up, immediately quitted us, and fell upon them. We hoisted our sail, and got off, leaving them to fight it out by themselves; the Caryonautae were most probably the conquerors, as they were more in number, for they had five ships, which besides were stronger and better built than those of the enemy, being made of the shells of nuts cut in two, and hollowed, every half-nut being fifty paces long. As soon as we got out of their sight, we took care of our wounded men, and from that time were obliged to be always armed and prepared in case of sudden attack. We had too much reason to fear, for scarce was the sun set when we saw about twenty men from a desert island advancing towards us, each on the back of a large dolphin. These were pirates also: the dolphins carried them very safely, and seemed pleased with their burden, neighing like horses. When they came up, they stood at a little distance, and threw dried cuttle-fish and crabs’-eyes at us; but we, in return, attacking them with our darts and arrows, many of them were wounded; and, unable to stand it any longer, they retreated to the island.
In the middle of the night, the sea being quite calm, we unfortunately struck upon a halcyon’s nest, of an immense size, being about sixty stadia in circumference; the halcyon was sitting upon it, and was herself not much less; as she flew off, she was very near oversetting our ship with the wind of her wings, and, as she went, made a most hideous groaning. As soon as it was day we took a view of the nest, which was like a great ship, and built of trees; in it were five hundred eggs, each of them longer than a hogshead of Chios. We could hear the young ones croaking within; so, with a hatchet we broke one of the eggs, and took the chicken out unfledged; it was bigger than twenty vultures put together.
When we were got about two hundred stadia from the nest, we met with some surprising prodigies. A cheniscus came, and sitting on the prow of our ship, clapped his wings and made a noise. Our pilot Scintharus had been bald for many years, when on a sudden his hair came again. But what was still more wonderful, the mast of our ship sprouted out, sent forth several branches, and bore fruit at the top of it, large figs, and grapes not quite ripe. We were greatly astonished, as you may suppose, and prayed most devoutly to the gods to avert the evil which was portended.
We had not gone above five hundred stadia farther before we saw an immensely large and thick wood of pines and cypresses; we took it for a tract of land, but it was all a deep sea, planted with trees that had no root, which stood, however, unmoved, upright, and, as it were, swimming in it. Approaching near to it, we began to consider what we could do best. There was no sailing between the trees, which were close together, nor did we know how to get back. I got upon one of the highest of them, to see how far they reached, and perceived that they continued for about fifty stadia or more, and beyond that it was all sea again; we resolved therefore to drag the ship up to the top boughs, which were very thick, and so convey it along, which, by fixing a great rope to it, with no little toil and difficulty, we performed; got it up, spread our sails, and were driven on by the wind. It put me in mind of that verse of Antimachus the poet, where he says–
“The ship sailed smoothly through the sylvan sea.”
We at length got over the wood, and, letting our ship down in the same manner, fell into smooth clear water, till we came to a horrid precipice, hollow and deep, resembling the cavity made by an earthquake. We furled our sails, or should soon have been swallowed up in it. Stooping forward, and looking down, we beheld a gulf of at least a thousand stadia deep, a most dreadful and amazing sight, for the sea as it were was split in two. Looking towards our right hand, however, we saw a small bridge of water that joined the two seas, and flowed from one into the other; we got the ship in here, and with great labour rowed her over, which we never expected.
From thence we passed into a smooth and calm sea, wherein was a small island with a good landing place, and which was inhabited by the Bucephali: a savage race of men, with bulls’ heads and horns, as they paint the minotaur. As soon as we got on shore we went in search of water and provision, for we had none left; water we found soon, but nothing else; we heard, indeed, a kind of lowing at a distance, and expected to find a herd of oxen, but, advancing a little farther, perceived that it came from the men. As soon as they saw us, they ran after and took two of our companions; the rest of us got back to the ship as fast as we could. We then got our arms, and, determined to revenge our friends, attacked them as they were dividing the flesh of our poor companions: they were soon thrown into confusion and totally routed; we slew about fifty of them, and took two prisoners, whom we returned with. All this time we could get no provision. Some were for putting the captives to death, but not approving of this, I kept them bound till the enemy should send ambassadors to redeem them, which they did; for we soon heard them lowing in a melancholy tone, and most humbly beseeching us to release their friends. The ransom agreed on was a quantity of cheeses, dried fish, and onions, together with four stags, each having three feet, two behind and one before. In consideration of this, we released the prisoners, stayed one day there, and set sail.
We soon observed the fish swimming and the birds flying round about us, with other signs of our being near the land; and in a very little time after saw some men in the sea, who made use of a very uncommon method of sailing, being themselves both ships and passengers. I will tell you how they did it; they laid themselves all along in the water, they fastened to their middle a sail, and holding the lower part of the rope in their hands, were carried along by the wind. Others we saw, sitting on large casks, driving two dolphins who were yoked together, and drew the carriage after them: these did not run away from, nor attempt to do us any injury; but rode round about us without fear, observing our vessel with great attention, and seeming greatly astonished at it.
It was now almost dark, when we came in sight of a small island inhabited by women, as we imagined, for such they appeared to us, being all young and handsome, with long garments reaching to their feet. The island was called Cabalusa, and the city Hydamardia. {147a} I stopped a little, for my mind misgave me, and looking round, saw several bones and skulls of men on the ground; to make a noise, call my companions together, and take up arms, I thought would be imprudent. I pulled out my mallow, {147b} therefore, and prayed most devoutly that I might escape the present evil; and a little time afterwards, as one of the strangers was helping us to something, I perceived, instead of a woman’s foot, the hoof of an ass. Upon this I drew my sword, seized on and bound her, and insisted on her telling me the truth with regard to everything about them. She informed me, much against her will, that she and the rest of the inhabitants were women belonging to the sea, that they were called Onoscileas, {148} and that they lived upon travellers who came that way. “We make them drunk,” said she, “and when they are asleep, make an end of them.” As soon as she had told me this, I left her bound there, and getting upon the house, called out to my companions, brought them together, showed them the bones, and led them in to her; when on a sudden she dissolved away into water, and disappeared. I dipped my sword into it by way of experiment, and the water turned into blood.
We proceeded immediately to our vessel and departed. At break of day we had a view of that continent which we suppose lies directly opposite to our own. Here, after performing our religious rites, and putting up our prayers, we consulted together about what was to be done next. Some were of opinion that, after making a little descent on the coast, we should turn back again; others were for leaving the ship there, and marching up into the heart of the country, to explore the inhabitants. Whilst we were thus disputing a violent storm arose, and driving our ship towards the land, split it in pieces. We picked up our arms, and what little things we could lay hold on, and with difficulty swam ashore.
Such were the adventures which befell us during our voyage, at sea, in the islands, in the air, in the whale, amongst the heroes, in the land of dreams, and lastly, amongst the Bucephali, and the Onoscileae. What we met with on the other side of the world, shall be related in the ensuing books. {149}
ICARO-MENIPPUS. A DIALOGUE.
This Dialogue, which is also called by the commentators [Greek], or, “Above the Clouds,” has a great deal of easy wit and humour in it, without the least degree of stiffness or obscurity; it is equally severe on the gods and philosophers; and paints, in the warmest colours, the glaring absurdity of the whole pagan system.
MENIPPUS AND A FRIEND.
MENIPPUS.
Three thousand stadia {153} from the earth to the moon, my first resting-place; from thence up to the sun about five hundred parasangas; and from the sun to the highest heaven, and the palace of Jupiter, as far as a swift eagle could fly in a day.
FRIEND.
What are you muttering to yourself, Menippus, talking about the stars, and pretending to measure distances? As I walk behind you, I hear of nothing but suns and moons, parasangas, stations, and I know not what.
MENIPPUS.
Marvel not, my friend, if I utter things aerial and sublime; for I am recounting the wonders of my late journey.
FRIEND.
What! tracing your road by the stars, as the Phoenicians {154} do!
MENIPPUS.
Not so, by Jove! I have been amongst the stars themselves.
FRIEND.
You must have had a long dream, indeed, to travel so many leagues in it.
MENIPPUS.
It is no dream, I assure you; I am just arrived from Jupiter.
FRIEND.
How say you? Menippus let down from heaven?
MENIPPUS.
Even so: this moment come from thence, where I have seen and heard things most strange and miraculous. If you doubt the truth of them, the happier shall I be to have seen what is past belief.
FRIEND.
How is it possible, most heavenly and divine Menippus, that a mere mortal, like me, should dispute the veracity of one who has been carried above the clouds: one, to speak in the language of Homer, of the inhabitants {155} of heaven? But inform me, I beseech you, which way you got up, and how you procured so many ladders; for, by your appearance, I should not take you for another Phrygian boy, {156} to be carried up by an eagle, and made a cup-bearer of.
MENIPPUS.
You are an old scoffer, I know, and therefore I am not surprised that an account of things above the comprehensions of the vulgar should appear like a fable to you; but, let me tell you, I wanted no ladders, nor an eagle’s beak, to transport me thither, for I had wings of my own.
FRIEND.
This was beyond Daedalus himself, to be metamorphosed thus into a hawk, or jay, and we know nothing of it.
MENIPPUS.
You are not far from the mark, my friend; for my wings were a kind of Daedalian contrivance.
FRIEND.
Thou art a bold rogue indeed, and meant no doubt, if you had chanced to fall into any part of the ocean, to have called it, as Icarus {157a} did, by your own name, and styled it the Menippean Sea.
MENIPPUS.
Not so; his wings were glued on with wax, and when the sun melted it, could not escape falling; but mine had no wax in them.
FRIEND.
Indeed! now shall I quickly know the truth of this affair.
MENIPPUS.
You shall: I took, you must know, a very large eagle {157b} and a vulture also, one of the strongest I could get, and cut off their wings; but, if you have leisure, I will tell you the whole expedition from beginning to end.
FRIEND.
Pray do, for I long to hear it: by Jove the Friendly, I entreat thee, keep me no longer in suspense, for I am hung by the ears.
MENIPPUS.
Listen, then, for I would by no means baulk an inquisitive friend, especially one who is nailed by the ears, as you are. Finding, on a close examination, that everything here below, such as riches, honours, empire, and dominion, were all ridiculous and absurd, of no real value or estimation, considering them, withal, as so many obstacles to the study of things more worthy of contemplation, I looked up towards nobler objects, and meditated on the great universe before me; doubts immediately arose concerning what philosophers call the world; nor could I discover how it came into existence, its creator, the beginning or the end of it. When I descended to its several parts, I was still more in the dark: I beheld the stars, scattered as it were by the hand of chance, over the heavens; I saw the sun, and wished to know what it was; above all, the nature of the Moon appeared to me most wonderful and extraordinary; the diversity of its forms pointed out some hidden cause which I could not account for; the lightning also, which pierces through everything, the impetuous thunder, the rain, hail, and snow, {159} all raised my admiration, and seemed inexplicable to human reason. In this situation of mind, the best thing I thought which I could possibly do was to consult the philosophers; they, I made no doubt, were acquainted with the truth, and could impart it to me. Selecting, therefore, the best of them, as well as I could judge from the paleness and severity of their countenances, and the length of their beards (for they seemed all to be high-speaking and heavenly-minded men), into the hands of these I entirely resigned myself, and partly by ready money, partly by the promise of more, when they had made me completely wise, I engaged them to teach me the perfect knowledge of the universe, and how to talk on sublime subjects; but so far were they from removing my ignorance, that they only threw me into greater doubt and uncertainty, by puzzling me with atoms, vacuums, beginnings, ends, ideas, forms, and so forth: and the worst of all was, that though none agreed with the rest in what they advanced, but were all of contrary opinions, yet did every one of them expect that I should implicitly embrace his tenets, and subscribe to his doctrine.
FRIEND.
It is astonishing that such wise men should disagree, and, with regard to the same things, should not all be of the same opinion.
MENIPPUS.
You will laugh, my friend, when I shall tell you of their pride and impudence in the relation of extraordinary events; to think that men, who creep upon this earth, and are not a whit wiser, or can see farther than ourselves, some of them old, blind, and lazy, should pretend to know the limits and extent of heaven, measure the sun’s circuit, and walk above the moon; that they should tell us the size and form of the stars, as if they were just come down from them; that those who scarcely know how many furlongs it is from Athens to Megara, should inform you exactly how many cubits distance the sun is from the moon, should mark out the height of the air, and the depth of the sea, describe circles, from squares upon triangles, make spheres, and determine the length and breadth of heaven itself: is it not to the last degree impudent and audacious? When they talk of things thus obscure and unintelligible, not merely to offer their opinions as conjectures, but boldly to urge and insist upon them: to do everything but swear, that the sun {161} is a mass of liquid fire, that the moon is inhabited, that the stars drink water, and that the sun draws up the moisture from the sea, as with a well- rope, and distributes his draught over the whole creation? How little they agree upon any one thing, and what a variety of tenets they embrace, is but too evident; for first, with regard to the world, their opinions are totally different; some affirm that it hath neither beginning nor end; some, whom I cannot but admire, point out to us the manner of its construction, and the maker of it, a supreme deity, whom they worship as creator of the universe; but they have not told us whence he came, nor where he exists; neither, before the formation of this world, can we have any idea of time or place.
FRIEND.
These are, indeed, bold and presumptuous diviners.
MENIPPUS.
But what would you say, my dear friend, were you to hear them disputing, concerning ideal {162} and incorporeal substances, and talking about finite and infinite? for this is a principal matter of contention between them; some confining all things within certain limits, others prescribing none. Some assert that there are many worlds, {163a} and laugh at those who affirm there is but one; whilst another, {163b} no man of peace, gravely assures us that war is the original parent of all things. Need I mention to you their strange opinions concerning the deities? One says, that number {163c} is a god; others swear by dogs, {164} geese, and plane-trees. Some give the rule of everything to one god alone, and take away all power from the rest, a scarcity of deities which I could not well brook; others more liberal, increased the number of gods, and gave to each his separate province and employment, calling one the first, and allotting to others the second or third rank of divinity. Some held that gods were incorporeal, and without form; others supposed them to have bodies. It was by no means universally acknowledged that the gods took cognisance of human affairs; some there were who exempted them from all care and solicitude, as we exonerate our old men from business and trouble; bringing them in like so many mute attendants on the stage. There are some too, who go beyond all this, and deny that there are any gods at all, but assert that the world is left without any guide or master.
I could not tell how to refuse my assent to these high-sounding and long-bearded gentlemen, and yet could find no argument amongst them all, that had not been refuted by some or other of them; often was I on the point of giving credit to one, when, as Homer says,
“To other thoughts,
My heart inclined.” {165a}
The only way, therefore, to put an end to all my doubts, was, I thought, to make a bird of myself, and fly up to heaven. This my own eager desires represented as probable, and the fable-writer AEsop {165b} confirmed it, who carries up, not only his eagles, but his beetles, and camels thither. To make wings for myself was impossible, but to fit those of a vulture and an eagle to my body, might, I imagined, answer the same purpose. I resolved, therefore, to try the experiment, and cut off the right wing of one, and the left of the other; bound them on with thongs, and at the extremities made loops for my hands; then, raising myself by degrees, just skimmed above the ground, like the geese. When, finding my project succeed, I made a bold push, got upon the Acropolis {166a} and from thence slid down to the theatre. Having got so far without danger or difficulty, I began to meditate greater things, and setting off from Parnethes or Hymettus {166b} flew to Geranea, {166c} and from thence to the top of the tower at Corinth; from thence over Pholoe {166d} and Erymanthus quite to Taygetus. And now, resolving to strike a bold stroke, as I was already become a high flyer, and perfect in my art, I no longer confined myself to chicken flights, but getting upon Olympus, and taking a little light provision with me, I made the best of my way directly towards heaven. The extreme height which I soared to brought on a giddiness at first, but this soon went off; and when I got as far the Moon, having left a number of clouds behind me, I found a weariness, particularly in my vulture wing. I halted, therefore, to rest myself a little, and looking down from thence upon the earth, like Homer’s Jupiter, beheld the places–
“Where the brave Mycians prove their martial force, And hardy Thracians tame the savage horse; Then India, Persia, and all-conquering Greece.” {167}
which gave me wonderful pleasure and satisfaction.
FRIEND.
Let me have an exact account of all your travels, I beseech you, omit not the least particular, but give me your observations upon everything; I expect to hear a great deal about the form and figure of the earth, and how it all appeared to you from such an eminence.
MENIPPUS.
And so you shall; ascend, therefore, in imagination with me to the Moon, and consider the situation and appearance of the earth from thence: suppose it to seem, as it did to me, much less than the moon, insomuch, that when I first looked down, I could not find the high mountains, and the great sea; and, if it had not been for the Rhodian Colossus, {168} and the tower of Pharos, should not have known where the earth stood. At length, however, by the reflection of the sunbeams, the ocean appeared, and showed me the land, when, keeping my eyes fixed upon it, I beheld clearly and distinctly everything that was doing upon earth, not only whole nations and cities, but all the inhabitants of them, whether waging war, cultivating their fields, trying causes, or anything else; their women, animals, everything, in short, was before me.
FRIEND.
Most improbable, all this, and contradictory; you told me but just before, that the earth was so little by its great distance, that you could scarce find it, and, if it had not been for the Colossus, it would not have appeared at all; and now, on a sudden, like another Lynceus, you can spy out men, trees, animals, nay, I suppose, even a flea’s nest, if you chose it.
MENIPPUS.
I thank you for putting me in mind of what I had forgot to mention. When I beheld the earth, but could not distinguish the objects upon it, on account of the immense distance, I was horribly vexed at it, and ready to cry, when, on a sudden, Empedocles {169} the philosopher stood behind me, all over ashes, as black as a coal, and dreadfully scorched: when I saw him, I must own I was frightened, and took him for some demon of the moon; but he came up to me, and cried out, “Menippus, don’t be afraid,
“I am no god, why call’st thou me divine?” {170}
I am Empedocles, the naturalist: after I had leaped into the furnace, a vapour from AEtna carried me up hither, and here I live in the moon and feed upon dew: I am come to free you from your present distress.” “You are very kind,” said I, “most noble Empedocles, and when I fly back to Greece, I shall not forget to pay my devotions to you in the tunnel of my chimney every new moon.” “Think not,” replied he, “that I do this for the sake of any reward I might expect for it; by Endymion, {171} that is not the case, but I was really grieved to see you so uneasy: and now, how shall we contrive to make you see clear?” “That, by Jove,” said I, “I cannot guess, unless you can take off this mist from my eyes, for they are horribly dim at present.” “You have brought the remedy along with you.” “How so?” “Have you not got an eagle’s wing?” “True, but what has that to do with an eye?” “An eagle, you know, is more sharp-sighted than any other creature, and the only one that can look against the sun: your true royal bird is known by never winking at the rays, be they ever so strong.” “So I have heard, and I am sorry I did not, before I came up, take out my own eyes and put in the eagle’s; thus imperfect, to be sure, I am not royally furnished, but a kind of bastard bird.” “You may have one royal eye, for all that, if you please; it is only when you rise up to fly, holding the vulture’s wing still, and moving the eagle’s only; by which means, you will see clearly with one, though not at all with the other.” “That will do, and is sufficient for me; I have often seen smiths, and other artists, look with one eye only, to make their work the truer.” This conversation ended, Empedocles vanished into smoke, and I saw no more of him. I acted as he advised me, and no sooner moved my eagle’s wing, than a great light came all around me, and I saw everything as clear as possible: looking down to earth, I beheld distinctly cities and men, and everything that passed amongst them; not only what they did openly, but whatever was going on at home, and in their own houses, where they thought to conceal it. I saw Lysimachus betrayed by his son; {172a} Antiochus intriguing with his mother-in-law; {172b} Alexander the Thessalian slain by his wife; and Attalus poisoned by his son: in another place I saw Arsaces killing his wife, and the eunuch Arbaces drawing his sword upon Arsaces; Spartim, the Mede, dragged by the heels from the banquet by his guards, and knocked on the head with a cup. In the palaces of Scythia and Thrace the same wickedness was going forward; and nothing could I see but murderers, adulterers, conspirators, false swearers, men in perpetual terrors, and betrayed by their dearest friends and acquaintance.
Such was the employment of kings and great men: in private houses there was something more ridiculous; there I saw Hermodorus the Epicurean forswearing himself for a thousand drachmas; Agathocles the Stoic quarrelling with his disciples about the salary for tuition; Clinias the orator stealing a phial out of the temple; not to mention a thousand others, who were undermining walls, litigating in the forum, extorting money, or lending it upon usury; a sight, upon the whole, of wonderful variety.
FRIEND.
It must have been very entertaining; let us have it all, I desire.
MENIPPUS.
I had much ado to see, to relate it to you is impossible; it was like Homer’s shield, {173} on one side were feasting and nuptials, on the other haranguing and decrees; here a sacrifice, and there a burial; the Getae at war, the Scythians travelling in their caravans, the Egyptians tilling their fields, the Phoenicians merchandising, the Cilicians robbing and plundering, the Spartans flogging their children, and the Athenians perpetually quarrelling and going to law with one another.
When all this was doing, at the same time, you may conceive what a strange medley this appeared to me; it was just as if a number of dancers, or rather singers, were met together, and every one was ordered to leave the chorus, and sing his own song, each striving to drown the other’s voice, by bawling as loud as he could; you may imagine what kind of a concert this would make.
FRIEND.
Truly ridiculous and confused, no doubt.
MENIPPUS.
And yet such, my friend, are all the poor performers upon earth, and of such is composed the discordant music of human life; the voices not only dissonant and inharmonious, but the forms and habits all differing from each other, moving in various directions, and agreeing in nothing; till at length the great master {175a} of the choir drives everyone of them from the stage, and tells him he is no longer wanted there; then all are silent, and no longer disturb each other with their harsh and jarring discord. But in this wide and extensive theatre, full of various shapes and forms, everything was matter of laughter and ridicule. Above all, I could not help smiling at those who quarrel about the boundaries of their little territory, and fancy themselves great because they occupy a Sicyonian {175b} field, or possess that part of Marathon which borders on Oenoe, or are masters of a thousand acres in Acharnae; when after all, to me, who looked from above, Greece was but four fingers in breadth, and Attica a very small portion of it indeed. I could not but think how little these rich men had to be proud of; he who was lord of the most extensive country owned a spot that appeared to me about as large as one of Epicurus’s atoms. When I looked down upon Peloponnesus, and beheld Cynuria, {176a} I reflected with astonishment on the number of Argives and Lacedemonians who fell in one day, fighting for a piece of land no bigger than an Egyptian lentil; and when I saw a man brooding over his gold, and boasting that he had got four cups or eight rings, I laughed most heartily at him: whilst the whole Pangaeus, {176b} with all its mines, seemed no larger than a grain of millet.
FRIEND.
A fine sight you must have had; but how did the cities and the men look?
MENIPPUS.
You have often seen a crowd of ants running to and fro in and out of their city, some turning up a bit of dung, others dragging a bean- shell, or running away with half a grain of wheat. I make no doubt but they have architects, demagogues, senators, musicians, and philosophers amongst them. Men, my friend, are exactly like these: if you approve not of the comparison, recollect, if you please, the ancient Thessalian fables, and you will find that the Myrmidons, {177} a most warlike nation, sprung originally from pismires.
When I had thus seen and diverted myself with everything, I shook my wings and flew off,
“To join the sacred senate of the skies.” {178a}
Scarce had I gone a furlong, when the Moon, in a soft female voice, cried out to me, “Menippus, will you carry something for me to Jupiter, so may your journey be prosperous?” “With all my heart,” said I, “if it is nothing very heavy.” “Only a message,” replied she, “a small petition to him: my patience is absolutely worn out by the philosophers, who are perpetually disputing about me, who I am, of what size, how it happens that I am sometimes round and full, at others cut in half; some say I am inhabited, others that I am only a looking-glass hanging over the sea, and a hundred conjectures of this kind; even my light, {178b} they say, is none of my own, but stolen from the Sun; thus endeavouring to set me and my brother together by the ears, not content with abusing him, and calling him a hot stone, and a mass of fire. In the meantime, I am no stranger to what these men, who look so grave and sour all day, are doing o’ nights; but I see and say nothing, not thinking it decent to lay open their vile and abominable lives to the public; for when I catch them thieving, or practising any of their nocturnal tricks, I wrap myself up in a cloud, that I may not expose to the world a parcel of old fellows, who, in spite of their long beards, and professions of virtue, are guilty of every vice, and yet they are always railing at and abusing me. I swear by night I have often resolved to move farther off to get out of reach of their busy tongues; and I beg you would tell Jupiter that I cannot possibly stay here any longer, unless he will destroy these naturalists, stop the mouths of the logicians, throw down the Portico, burn the Academy, and make an end of the inhabitants of Peripatus; so may I enjoy at last a little rest, which these fellows are perpetually disturbing.” “It shall be done,” said I, and away I set out for heaven, where
“No tracks of beasts or signs of men are found.” {179}
In a little time the earth was invisible, and the moon appeared very small; and now, leaving the sun on my right hand, I flew amongst the stars, and on the third day reached my journey’s end. At first I intended to fly in just as I was, thinking that, being half an eagle, I should not be discovered, as that bird was an old acquaintance of Jupiter’s, but then it occurred to me that I might be found out by my vulture’s wing, and laid hold on: deeming it, therefore, most prudent not to run the hazard, I went up, and knocked at the door: Mercury heard me, and asking my name, went off immediately, and carried it to his master; soon after I was let in, and, trembling and quaking with fear, found all the gods sitting together, and seemingly not a little alarmed at my appearance there, expecting probably that they should soon have a number of winged mortals travelling up to them in the same manner: when Jupiter, looking at me with a most severe and Titanic {180a} countenance, cried out,
“Say who thou art, and whence thy country, name Thy parents–” {180b}
At this I thought I should have died with fear; I stood motionless, and astonished at the awfulness and majesty of his voice; but recovering myself in a short time, I related to him everything from the beginning, how desirous I was of knowing sublime truths, how I went to the philosophers, and hearing them contradict one another, and driven to despair, thought on the scheme of making me wings, with all that had happened in my journey quite up to heaven. I then delivered the message to him from the Moon, at which, softening his contracted brow, he smiled at me, and cried, “What were Otus and Ephialtes {181} in comparison of Menippus, who has thus dared to fly up to heaven; but come, we now invite you to supper with us; to- morrow we will attend to your business, and dismiss you.” At these words he rose up and went to that part of heaven where everything from below could be heard most distinctly; for this, it seems, was the time appointed to hear petitions. As we went along, he asked me several questions about earthly matters, such as, “How much corn is there at present in Greece? had you a hard winter last year? and did your cabbages want rain? is any of Phidias’s {182} family alive now? what is the reason that the Athenians have left off sacrificing to me for so many years? do they think of building up the Olympian temple again? are the thieves taken that robbed the Dodonaean?” When I had answered all these, “Pray, Menippus,” said he, “what does mankind really think of me?” “How should they think of you,” said I, “but with the utmost veneration, that you are the great sovereign of the gods.” “There you jest,” said he, “I am sure; I know well enough how fond they are of novelty, though you will not own it. There was a time, indeed, when I was held in some estimation, when I was the great physician, when I was everything, in short–
“When streets, and lanes, and all was full of Jove.” {183a}
Pisa {183b} and Dodona {183c} were distinguished above every place, and I could not see for the smoke of sacrifices; but, since Apollo has set up his oracle at Delphi, and AEsculapius practises physic at Pergamus; since temples have been erected to Bendis {183d} at Thrace, to Anubis in Egypt, and to Diana at Ephesus, everybody runs after them; with them they feast, to them they offer up their hecatombs, and think it honour enough for a worn-out god, as I am, if they sacrifice once in six years at Olympia; whilst my altars are as cold and neglected as Plato’s laws, {184} or the syllogisms of Chrysippus.”
With this and such-like chat we passed away the time, till we came to the place where the petitions were to be heard. Here we found several holes, with covers to them, and close to every one was placed a golden chair. Jupiter sat down in the first he came to, and lifting up the lid, listened to the prayers, which, as you may suppose, were of various kinds. I stooped down and heard several of them myself, such as, “O Jupiter, grant me a large empire!” “O Jupiter, may my leeks and onions flourish and increase!” “Grant Jupiter, that my father may die soon!” “Grant I may survive my wife!” “Grant I may not be discovered, whilst I lay wait for my brother!” “Grant that I may get my cause!” “Grant that I may be crowned at Olympia!” One sailor asked for a north wind, another for a south; the husbandman prayed for rain, and the fuller for sunshine. Jupiter heard them all, but did not promise everybody–
“–some the just request,
He heard propitious, and denied the rest.” {185a}
Those prayers which he thought right and proper he let up through the hole, and blew the wicked and foolish ones back, that they might not rise to heaven. One petition, indeed, puzzled him a little; two men asking favours of him directly contrary to each other, at the same time, and promising the same sacrifice; he was at a loss which to oblige; he became immediately a perfect Academic, and like Pyrrho, {185b} was held in suspense between them. When he had done with the prayers, he sat down upon the next chair, over another hole, and listened to those who were swearing and making vows. When he had finished this business, and destroyed Hermodorus, the Epicurean, for perjury, he removed to the next seat, and gave audience to the auguries, oracles, and divinations; which having despatched, he proceeded to the hole that brought up the fume of the victims, together with the name of the sacrificer. Then he gave out his orders to the winds and storms: “Let there be rain to-day in Scythia, lightning in Africa, and snow in Greece; do you, Boreas, blow in Lydia, and whilst Notus lies still, let the north wind raise the waves of the Adriatic, and about a thousand measures of hail be sprinkled over Cappadocia.”
When Jupiter had done all his business we repaired to the feast, for it was now supper-time, and Mercury bade me sit down by Pan, the Corybantes, Attis, and Sabazius, a kind of demi-gods who are admitted as visitors there. Ceres served us with bread, and Bacchus with wine; Hercules handed about the flesh, Venus scattered myrtles, and Neptune brought us fish; not to mention that I got slyly a little nectar and ambrosia, for my friend Ganymede, out of good- nature, if he saw Jove looking another way, would frequently throw me in a cup or two. The greater gods, as Homer tells us {187a} (who, I suppose, had seen them as well as myself,) never taste meat or wine, but feed upon ambrosia and get drunk with nectar, at the same time their greatest luxury is, instead of victuals, to suck in the fumes that rise from the victims, and the blood of the sacrifices that are offered up to them. Whilst we were at supper, Apollo played on the harp, Silenus danced a cordax, and the Muses repeated Hesiod’s Theogony, and the first Ode of Pindar. When these recreations were over we all retired tolerably well soaked, {187b} to bed,
“Now pleasing rest had sealed each mortal eye, And even immortal gods in slumber lie, All but myself–” {187c}
I could not help thinking of a thousand things, and particularly how it came to pass that, during so long a time Apollo {188a} should never have got him a beard, and how there came to be night in heaven, though the sun is always present there and feasting with them. I slept a little, and early in the morning Jupiter ordered the crier to summon a council of the gods, and when they were all assembled, thus addressed himself to them.
“The stranger who came here yesterday, is the chief cause of my convening you this day. I have long wanted to talk with you concerning the philosophers, and the complaints now sent to us from the Moon make it immediately necessary to take the affair into consideration. There is lately sprung up a race of men, slothful, quarrelsome, vain-glorious, foolish, petulant, gluttonous, proud, abusive, in short what Homer calls,
“An idle burthen to the ground.” {188b}
These, dividing themselves into sects, run through all the labyrinths of disputation, calling themselves Stoics, Academics, Epicureans, Peripatetics, and a hundred other names still more ridiculous; then wrapping themselves up in the sacred veil of virtue, they contract their brows and let down their beards, under a specious appearance hiding the most abandoned profligacy; like one of the players on the stage, if you strip him of his fine habits wrought with gold, all that remains behind is a ridiculous spectacle of a little contemptible fellow, hired to appear there for seven drachmas. And yet these men despise everybody, talk absurdly of the gods, and drawing in a number of credulous boys, roar to them in a tragical style about virtue, and enter into disputations that are endless and unprofitable. To their disciples they cry up fortitude and temperance, a contempt of riches and pleasures, and, when alone, indulge in riot and debauchery. The most intolerable of all is, that though they contribute nothing towards the good and welfare of the community, though they are
“Unknown alike in council and in field;” {189}
yet are they perpetually finding fault with, abusing, and reviling others, and he is counted the greatest amongst them who is most impudent, noisy, and malevolent; if one should say to one of these fellows who speak ill of everybody, ‘What service are you of to the commonwealth?’ he would reply, if he spoke fairly and honestly, ‘To be a sailor or a soldier, or a husbandman, or a mechanic, I think beneath me; but I can make a noise and look dirty, wash myself in cold water, go barefoot all winter, and then, like Momus, find fault with everybody else; if any rich man sups luxuriously, I rail at, and abuse him; but if any of my friends or acquaintance fall sick, and want my assistance, I take no notice of them.’
“Such, my brother gods, are the cattle {190} which I complain of; and of all these the Epicureans are the worst, who assert that the gods take no care of human affairs, or look at all into them: it is high time, my brethren, that we should take this matter into consideration, for if once they can persuade the people to believe these things, you must all starve; for who will sacrifice to you, when they can get nothing by it? What the Moon accuses you of, you all heard yesterday from the stranger; consult, therefore, amongst yourselves, and determine what may best promote the happiness of mankind, and our own security.” When Jupiter had thus spoken, the assembly rung with repeated cries, of “thunder, and lightning! burn, consume, destroy! down with them into the pit, to Tartarus, and the giants!” Jove, however, once more commanding silence, cried out, “It shall be done as you desire; they and their philosophy shall perish together: but at present, no punishments must be inflicted; for these four months to come, as you all know, it is a solemn feast, and I have declared a truce: next year, in the beginning of the spring, my lightning shall destroy them.
“As to Menippus, first cutting off his wings that he may not come here again, let Mercury carry him down to the earth.”
Saying this, he broke up the assembly, and Mercury taking me up by my right ear, brought me down, and left me yesterday evening in the Ceramicus. And now, my friend, you have heard everything I had to tell you from heaven; I must take my leave, and carry this good news to the philosophers, who are walking in the Poecile.
NOTES.
{17} One of Alexander’s generals, to whose share, on the division of the empire, after that monarch’s death, fell the kingdom of Thrace, in which was situated the city of Abdera.
{18a} A small fragment of this tragedy, which has in it the very line here quoted by Lucian, is yet extant in Barnes’s edition of Euripides.
{18b} This story may afford no useless admonition to the managers of the Haymarket and other summer theatres, who, it is to be hoped, will not run the hazard of inflaming their audiences with too much tragedy in the dog days.
{19a} This alludes to the Parthian War, in the time of Severian; the particulars of which, except the few here occasionally glanced at, we are strangers to. Lucian, most probably, by this tract totally knocked up some of the historians who had given an account of it, and prevented many others, who were intimidated by the severity of his strictures, attempting to transmit the history of it to posterity.
{19b} This saying is attributed to Empedocles.
{20a} The most famous of the Pontic cities, and well known as the residence of the renowned Cynic philosopher. It is still called by the same name, and is a port town of Asiatic Turkey, on the Euxine.
{20b} A kind of school or gymnasium where the young men performed their exercises. The choice of such a place by a philosopher to roll a tub in heightens the ridicule.
{21} See Homer’s “Odyssey,” M 1. 219.
{23} Alluding to the story he set out with.
{24a} [Greek]. Gr. The Latin translation renders it “octava duplici.” See Burney’s “Dissertation on Music,” Sect. 1.
{24b} Gr. [Greek], aspera arteria, or the wind-pipe. The comparison is strictly just and remarkably true, as we may all recollect how dreadful the sensation is when any part of our food slips down what is generally called “the wrong way.”
{25a} See Homer’s “Iliad,” [Greek] 1. 227, and Virgil’s “Camilla,” in the 7th book of the “AEneid.”
{25b} See Homer’s “Iliad,” [Greek] 1. 18. One of the blind bard’s speciosa miracula, which Lucian is perpetually laughing at.
{26} [Greek], or cerussa. Painting, we see, both amongst men and women, was practised long ago, and has at least the plea of antiquity in its favour. According to Lucian, the men laid on white; for the [Greek] was probably ceruse, or white lead; the ladies, we may suppose, as at present, preferred the rouge.
{29} Dinocrates. The same story is told of him, with some little alteration, by Vitruvius. Mention is made of it likewise by Pliny and Strabo.
{35} “His buckler’s mighty orb was next displayed; Tremendous Gorgon frowned upon its field, And circling terrors filled the expressive shield. Within its concave hung a silver thong, On which a mimic serpent creeps along, His azure length in easy waves extends, Till, in three heads, th’ embroidered monster ends.” See Pope’s “Homer’s Iliad,” book xi., 1. 43. Lucian here means to ridicule, not Homer, but the historian’s absurd imitation of him.
{39} The Greek expression was proverbial. Horace has adopted it: “Parturiunt montes, nascetur ridiculus mus.”
{40} Lucian adds, [Greek], ut est in proverbio, by which it appears that barbers and their shops were as remarkable for gossiping and tittle-tattle in ancient as they are in modern times. Aristophanes mentions them in his “Plutus,” they are recorded also by Plutarch, and Theophrastus styles them [Greek].
{41} See Thucydides, book ii., cap. 34.
{42} Who fell upon his sword. See the “Ajax” of Sophocles.
{43} For a description of this famous statue, see Pausanias.
{44} The [Greek], or scarus, is mentioned by several ancient authors, as a fish of the most delicate flavour, and is supposed to be of the same nature with our chars in Cumberland, and some other parts of this kingdom. I have ventured, therefore, to call it by this name, till some modern Apicius can furnish me with a better.
{45} Dragons, or fiery serpents, were used by the Parthians, and Suidas tells us, by the Scythians also, as standards, in the same manner as the Romans made use of the eagle, and under every one of these standards were a thousand men. See Lips. de Mil. Rom., cap. 4.
{46} See Arrian.
{47} The idea here so deservedly laughed at, of a history of what was to come, if treated, not seriously, as this absurd writer treated it, but ludicrously, as Lucian would probably have treated it himself, might open a fine field for wit and humour. Something of this kind appeared in a newspaper a few years ago, which, I think, was called “News for a Hundred Years Hence;” and though but a rough sketch, was well executed. A larger work, on the same ground, and by a good hand, might afford much entertainment.
{49} This kind of scholastic jargon was much in vogue in the time of Lucian, and it is no wonder he should take every opportunity of laughing at it, as nothing can be more opposite to true genius, wit, and humour, than such pedantry.
{50} Milo, the Crotonian wrestler, is reported to have been a man of most wonderful bodily strength, concerning which a number of lies are told, for which the reader, if he pleases, may consult his dictionary. He lost his life, we are informed, by trying to rend with his hands an old oak, which wedged him in, and pressed him to death; the poet says–
“–he met his end,
Wedged in that timber which he strove to rend.”
Titornus was a rival of Milo’s, and, according to AElian, who is not always to be credited, rolled a large stone with ease, which Milo with all his force could not stir. Conon was some slim Macaroni of that age, remarkable only for his debility, as was Leotrophides also, of crazy memory, recorded by Aristophanes, in his comedy called The Birds.
{51} The Broughtons of antiquity; men, we may suppose, renowned in their time for teaching the young nobility of Greece to bruise one another secundum artem.
{53a} See Diodorus Siculus, lib. vii., and Plutarch.
{53b} Concerning some of these facts, even recent as they were then with regard to us, historians are divided. Thucydides and Plutarch tell the story one way, Diodorus and Justin another. Well might our author, therefore, find fault with their uncertainty.
{55a} Lucian alludes, it is supposed, to Ctesias, the physician to Artaxerxes, whose history is stuffed with encomiums on his royal patron. See Plutarch’s “Artaxerxes.”
{55b} The Campus Nisaeus, a large plain in Media, near the Caspian mountains, was famous for breeding the finest horses, which were allotted to the use of kings only; or, according to Xenophon, those favourites on whom the sovereign thought proper to bestow them. See the “Cyropaed.,” book viii.
{56} This fine picture of a good historian has been copied by Tully, Strabo, Polybius, and other writers; it is a standard of perfection, however, which few writers, ancient or modern, have been able to reach. Thuanus has prefixed to his history these lines of Lucian; but whether he, or any other historian, hath answered in every point to the description here given, is, I believe, yet undetermined.
{57a} The saying is attributed to Aristophanes, though I cannot find it there. It is observable that this proverbial kind of expression, for freedom of words and sentiments, has been adopted into almost every language, though the image conveying it is different. Thus the Greeks call a fig a fig, etc. We say, an honest man calls a spade a spade; and the French call “un chat un chat.” Boileau says, “J’appelle un chat un chat, et Rolet un fripon.”
{57b} Herodotus’s history is comprehended in nine books, to each of which is prefixed the name of a Muse; the first is called Clio, the second Euterpe, and so on. A modern poet, I have been told, the ingenious Mr. Aaron Hill, improved upon this thought, and christened (if we may properly so call it), not his books, but his daughters by the same poetical names of Miss Cli, Miss Melp-y, Miss Terps-y, Miss Urania, etc.
{58} Both Thucydides and Livy are reprehensible in this particular; and the same objection may be made to Thuanus, Clarendon, Burnet, and many other modern historians.
{59} How just is this observation of Lucian’s, and at the same time how truly poetical is the image which he makes use of to express it! It puts us in mind of his rival critic Longinus, who, as Pope has observed, is himself the great sublime he draws.
{60} By this very just observation, Lucian means to censure all those writers–and we have many such now amongst us–who take so much pains to smooth and round their periods, as to disgust their readers by the frequent repetition of it, as it naturally produces a tiresome sameness in the sound of them; and at the same time discovers too much that laborious art and care, which it is always the author’s business as much as possible to conceal.
{61} See Homer’s “Iliad,” bk. xiii., 1. 4.
{62a} The famous Lacedaemonian general. The circumstance alluded to is in Thucydides, bk. iv.
{62b} Gr. [Greek], a technical term, borrowed from music, and signifying that tone of the voice which exactly corresponds with the instrument accompanying it.
{66a} A coarse fish that came from Pontus, or the Black Sea.– Saperdas advehe Ponto. See Pers. Sat. v. 1. 134.
{66b} Here doctors differ. Several of Thucydides’s descriptions are certainly very long, many of them, perhaps, rather tedious.
{67} Lucian is rather severe on this writer. Cicero only says, De omnibus omnia libere palam dixit; he spoke freely of everybody. Other writers, however, are of the same opinion with our satirist with regard to him. See Dions. Plutarch. Cornelius Nepos, etc.
{69} Alluding to the story of Diogenes, as related in the beginning.
{75} See Homer’s “Odyssey.”–The strange stories which Lucian here mentions may certainly be numbered, with all due deference to so great a name, amongst the nugae canorae of old Homer. Juvenal certainly considers them in this light when he says:–
Tam vacui capitis populum Phaeaca putavit.
Some modern critics, however, have endeavoured to defend them.
{77} Here the history begins, what goes before may be considered as the author’s preface, and should have been marked as such in the original.
{79} Among the Greek wines, so much admired by ancient Epicures, those of the islands of the Archipelago were the most celebrated, and of these the Chian wine, the product of Chios, bore away the palm from every other, and particularly that which was made from vines growing on the mountain called Arevisia, in testimony of which it were easy, if necessary, to produce an amphora full of classical quotations.
The present inhabitants of that island make a small quantity of excellent wine for their own use and are liberal of it to strangers who travel that way, but dare not, being under Turkish government, cultivate the vines well, or export the product of them.
{81a} In the same manner as Gulliver’s island of Laputa.–From this passage it is not improbable but that Swift borrowed the idea.
{81b} The account which Lucian here gives us of his visit to the moon, perhaps suggested to Bergerac the idea of his ingenious work, called “A Voyage to the Moon.”
{82a} Equi vultures, horse vultures; from [Greek], a horse: and [Greek], a vulture.
{82b} Lucian, we see, has founded his history on matter of fact. Endymion, we all know, was a king of Elis, though some call him a shepherd. Shepherd or king, however, he was so handsome, that the moon, who saw him sleeping on Mount Latmos, fell in love with him. This no orthodox heathen ever doubted: Lucian, who was a freethinker, laughs indeed at the tale; but has made him ample amends in this history by creating him emperor of the moon.
{83a} Modern astronomers are, I, think, agreed, that we are to the moon just the same as the moon is to us. Though Lucian’s history may be false, therefore his philosophy, we see, was true (1780). (The moon is not habitable, 1887.)
{83b} This I am afraid, is not so agreeable to the modern system; our philosophers all asserting that the sun is not habitable. As it is a place, however, which we are very little acquainted with, they may be mistaken, and Lucian may guess as well as ourselves, for aught we can prove to the contrary.
{84} Horse ants, from [Greek], a horse; and [Greek], an ant.
{85a} From [Greek], olus, any kind of herb; and [Greek], penna, a wing.
{85b} Millii jaculatores, darters of millet; millet is a kind of small grain.–A strange species of warriors!
{85c} Alliis pugnantes, garlic fighters: these we are to suppose threw garlic at the enemy, and served as a kind of stinkpots.
{85d} Pulici sagittarii, flea-archers.
{85e} Venti cursores, wind courser.
{86a} Passeres glandium, acorn sparrows.
{86b} Equi grues, horse-cranes.
{87a} Air-flies.
{87b} Gr. [Greek], air-crows; but as all crows fly through the air, I would rather read [Greek], which may be translated air-dancers, from [Greek], cordax, a lascivious kind of dance, so called.
{88a} Gr. [Greek], Caulo fungi, stalk and mushroom men.
{88b} Gr. [Greek], cani glandacii, acorn-dogs.
{88c} Gr. [Greek], nubicentauri, cloud-centaurs.
{88d} The reason for this wish is given a little farther on in the History.
{89} See Hom. Il. II.. 1, 459.
{90a} Some authors tell us that Sagittarius was the same as Chiron the centaur; others, that he was Crocus, a famous hunter, the son of Euphemia, who nursed the Muses, at whose intercession, he was, after his death, promoted to the ninth place in the Zodiac, under the name of Sagittarius.
{90b} The inhabitants of the moon.
{92} A good burlesque on the usual form and style of treaties.
{93} Gr. [Greek], ignens, fiery, [Greek], flaming, [Greek], nocturnus, nightly, [Greek], menstruus, monthly, [Greek], multi lucius, many lights. These all make good proper names in Greek, and sound magnificently, but do not answer so well in English. I have therefore preserved the original words in the translation.
{94} Here Lucian, like other story-tellers, is a little deficient in point of memory. If they eat, as he tells us, nothing but frogs, what use could they have for cheese?
{96} Of which we shall see an account in the next adventure.
{97} The city of Lamps.
{98a} The cloud cuckoo.
{98b} See his comedy of the Birds.
{104a} Salsamentarii: Salt-fish-men.
{104b} Triton-weasels.
{104c} Greek, [Greek], cancri-mani, crab’s hands.
{104d} Thynno-cipites, tunny-heads, i.e., men with heads like those of the tunny-fish.
{105a} Greek, [Greek], crab-men.
{105b} [Greek], sparrow-footed, from [Greek], passer marinus.
{109} Maris potor, the drinker up of the sea. AEolocentaurus and Thalassopotes were, I suppose, two Leviathans.
{113} One of the fifty Nereids, or Sea-Nymphs; so called, on account of the fairness of her skin: from [Greek], gala, milk; of the milky island, therefore, she was naturally the presiding deity.
{114a} Tyro, according to Homer, fell in love with the famous river Enipeus, and was always wandering on its banks, where Neptune found her, covered her with his waves, and throwing her into a deep sleep, supplied the place of Enipeus. Lucian has made her amends, by bestowing one of his imaginary kingdoms upon her. His part of the story, however, is full as probable as the rest.
{114b} Suberipedes, cork-footed.
{116a} This description of the Pagan Elysium, or Island of the Blessed, is well drawn, and abounds in fanciful and picturesque imagery, interspersed with strokes of humour and satire. The second book is, indeed, throughout, more entertaining and better written than the first.
{116b} See the Ajax Flagellifer of Sophocles. Lucian humorously degrades him from the character of a hero, and gives him hellebore as a madman.
{118} It is not improbable but that Voltaire’s El Dorado in his “Candide,” might have been suggested to him by this passage.
{119} I.e. Their appearance is exactly like that of shadows made by the sun at noonday, with this only difference, that one lies flat on the ground, the other is erect, and one is dark, the other light or diaphanous. Our vulgar idea of ghosts, especially with regard to their not being tangible, corresponds with this of Lucian’s.
{121a} A famous musician. Clemens Alexandrinus gives us a full account of him, to whom I refer the curious reader.
{121b} This poet, we are told, wrote some severe verses on Helen, for which he was punished by Castor and Pollux with loss of sight, but on making his recantation in a palinodia, his eyes were graciously restored to him. Lucian has affronted her still more grossly by making her run away with Cinyrus; but he, we are to suppose, being not over superstitious, defied the power of Castor and Pollux.
{122a} Nothing appears more ridiculous to a modern reader than the perpetual encomiums on the musical merit of swans and swallows, which we meet with in all the writers of antiquity. A proper account and explanation of this is, I think, amongst the desiderata of literature. There is an entertaining tract on this subject in the “Hist. de l’Acad.” tom. v., by M. Morin.
{122b} Who ravished Cassandra, the daughter of Priam and priestess of Minerva, who sent a tempest, dispersed the Grecian navy in their return home, and sunk Ajax with a thunder-bolt.
{123a} A scholar of Pythagoras.
{123b} The second king of Rome.
{123c} One of the seven sages, but excepted against by Lucian, because he was king of Corinth and a tyrant.
{123d} See his Treatise “de Republica.” His quitting Elysium, to live in his own republic, is a stroke of true humour.
{124a} Alluding to a passage in Hesiod already quoted.
{124b} Lucian laughs at the sceptics, though he was himself one of them.
{126} Death-games, or games after death, in imitation of wedding- games, funeral-games, etc.
{127a} The famous tyrant of Agrigentum, renowned for his ingenious contrivance of roasting his enemies in a brazen bull, and not less memorable for some excellent epistles, which set a wit and scholar together by the ears concerning the genuineness of them. See the famous contest between Bentley and Boyle.
{127b} Who sacrificed to Jupiter all the strangers that came into his kingdom. “Hospites violabat,” says Seneca, “ut eorum sanguine pluviam eliceret, cujus penuria AEgyptus novem annis laboraverat.” A most ingenious contrivance.
{128a} A king of Thrace who fed his horses with human flesh.
{128b} Scyron and Pityocamptes were two famous robbers, who used to seize on travellers and commit the most horrid cruelties upon them. They were slain by Theseus. See Plutarch’s “Life of Theseus.”
{128c} Where he ran away, but, as we are told, in very good company. See Diog. Laert. Strabo, etc.
{132} The Antipodes. We never heard whether Lucian performed this voyage. D’Ablancourt, however, his French translator, in his continuation of the “True History,” has done it for him, not without some humour, though it is by no means equal to the original.
{135a} Voltaire has improved on this passage, and given us a very humorous account of “les Habitans de l’Enfer,” in his wicked “Pucelle.”
{135b} Who, the reader will remember, had just before run off with Helen.
{136a} Greek, [Greek], sleep.
{136b} As herald of the morn.
{136c} A root which, infused, is supposed to promote sleep, consequently very proper for the Island of Dreams.
“Not poppy, nor mandragora,
Nor all the drowsy syrups of the East, Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep Which thou ow’dst yesterday.”
See Shakespeare’s “Othello.”
{136d} Night wanderer.
{137a} Gr. [Greek], inexperrectus, unwaked or wakeful.
{137b} Gr. [Greek], pernox, all night.
{137c} “Two portals firm the various phantoms keep; Of ev’ry one; whence flit, to mock the brain, Of winged lies a light fantastic train; The gate opposed pellucid valves adorn, And columns fair, encased with polished horn; Where images of truth for passage wait.” See Pope’s Homer’s “Odyssey,” bk. xix., 1. 637.
See also Virgil, who has pretty closely imitated his master.
{138a} Gr. [Greek], terriculum vanipori: fright, the son of vain hope, or disappointment.
{138b} Gr. [Greek], divitiglorium, the pride of riches–i.e., arising from riches; son of phantasy, or deceit.
{138c} Gr. [Greek], gravi-somnem, heavy sleep.
{141a} Nut sailors; or, sailors in a nut-shell.
{141b} Those who sailed in the gourds.
{147a} Cabalusa and Hydamardia are hard words, which the commentators confess they can make nothing of. Various, however, are the derivations, and numerous the guesses made about them. The English reader may, if he pleases, call them not improperly, especially the first, Cabalistic.
{147b} Which the reader will remember was given him by way of charm, on his departure from the Happy Island.
{148} Gr. [Greek], asini-eruras, ass-legged.
{149} The ensuing books never appeared. The “True History,” like
–“the bear and fiddle,
Begins, but breaks off in the middle.”
D’Ablancourt, as I observed above, has carried it on a little farther. There is still room for any ingenious modern to take the plan from Lucian, and improve upon it.
{153} The ancient Greek stadium is supposed to have contained a hundred and twenty-five geometrical paces, or six hundred and twenty-five Roman feet, corresponding to our furlong. Eight stadia make a geometrical, or Italian mile; and twenty, according to Dacier, a French league. It is observed, notwithstanding, by Guilletiere, a famous French writer, that the stadium was only six hundred Athenian feet, six hundred and four English feet, or a hundred and three geometrical paces.
The Greeks measured all their distances by stadia, which, after all we can discover concerning them, are different in different times and places.
{154} The Phoenicians, it is supposed, were the first sailors, and steered their course according to the appearance of the stars.
{155} Greek, [Greek], coelicoloe, Homer’s general name for the gods.
{156} Ganymede, whom Jupiter fell in love with, as he was hunting on Mount Ida, and turning himself into an eagle, carried up with him to heaven. “I am sure,” says Menippus’s friend, archly enough, “you were not carried up there, like Ganymede, for your beauty.”
{157a} “Icarus Icariis nomina fecit aquis.” The story is too well known to stand in need of any illustration. This accounts for the title of Icaro-Menippus.
{157b} See Bishop Wilkins’s “Art of Flying,” where this ingenious contrivance of Menippus’s is greatly improved upon. For a humorous detail of the many advantages attending this noble art, I refer my readers to the Spectator.
{159} Even Lucian’s Menippus, we see, could not reflect on the works of God without admiration; but with how much more dignity are they considered by the holy Psalmist!–
“O praise the Lord of heaven, praise Him in the height. Praise Him, sun and moon; praise Him, all ye stars; praise the Lord upon earth, ye dragons and all deeps; fire and hail, snow and vapours, wind and storm fulfilling His word.”–Psalm cxlviii.
{161} This was the opinion of Anaxagoras, one of the Ionic philosophers, born at Clazomene, in the first year of the seventieth Olympiad. See Plutarch and Diogenes Laert.
{162} Alluding to the doctrines of Plato and Aristotle.
{163a} This was the opinion of Democritus, who held that there were infinite worlds in infinite space, according to all circumstances, some of which are not only like to one another, but every way so perfectly and absolutely equal, that there is no difference betwixt them. See Plutarch, and Tully, Quest. Acad.
{163b} Empedocles, of Agrigentum, a Pythagorean; he held that there are two principal powers in nature, amity and discord, and that
“Sometimes by friendship, all are knit in one, Sometimes by discord, severed and undone.” See Stanley’s “Lives of the Philosophers.”
{163c} Alluding to the doctrine of Pythagoras, according to whom, number is the principle most providential of all heaven and earth, the root of divine beings, of gods and demons, the fountain and root of all things; that which, before all things, exists in the divine mind, from which, and out of which, all things are digested into order, and remain numbered by an indissoluble series. The whole system of the Pythagoreans is at large explained and illustrated by Stanley. See his “Lives of Philosophers.”
{164} See our author’s “Auction of Lives,” where Socrates swears by the dog and the plane-tree.
This was called the [Greek], or oath of Rhadamanthus, who, as Porphyry informs us, made a law that men should swear, if they needs must swear, by geese, dogs, etc. [Greek], that they might not, on every trifling occasion, call in the name of the gods. This is a kind of religious reason, the custom was therefore, Porphyry tells us, adopted by the wise and pious Socrates. Lucian, however, who laughs at everything here (as well as the place above quoted), ridicules him for it.
{165a} See Homer’s “Odyssey,” book ix. 1. 302. Pope translates it badly,
“Wisdom held my hand.”
Homer says nothing but–my mind changed.
{165b} One of the fables here alluded to is yet extant amongst those ascribed to AEsop, but that concerning the camel I never met with.
{166a} That part of Athens which was called the upper city, in opposition to the lower city. The Acropolis was on the top of a high rock.
{166b} Mountains near Athens.
{166c} A mountain between Geranea and Corinth.
{166d} A high mountain in Arcadia, to the west of Elis. Erymanthus another, bordering upon Achaia. Taygetus another, reaching northwards, to the foot of the mountains of Arcadia.
{167} See Homer’s “Iliad,” book xiii. 1. 4
{168} See note on this in a former dialogue.
{169} It is reported of Empedocles, that he went to AEtna, where he leaped into the fire, that he might leave behind him an opinion that he was a god, and that it was afterwards discovered by one of his sandals, which the fire cast up again, for his sandals were of brass. See Stanley’s “Lives of the Philosophers.” The manner of his death is related differently by different authors. This was, however, the generally received fable. Lucian, with an equal degree of probability, carries him up to the moon.
{170} See Homer’s Odyssey, b. xvi. 1. 187. The speech of Ulysses to his son, on the discovery.
{171} When Empedocles is got into the moon, Lucian makes him swear by Endymion in compliment to his sovereign lady.
{172a} Agathocles.
{172b} Stratonice.
{173} Of Achilles. See the 18th book of the “Iliad.”
{175a} Greek, [Greek].
{175b} Sicyon was a city near Corinth, famous for the richness and felicity of its soil.
{176a} The famous Ager Cynurius, a little district of Laconia, on the confines of Argolis; the Argives and Spartans, whom it laid between, agreed to decide the property of it by three hundred men of a side in the field: the battle was bloody and desperate, only one man remaining alive, Othryades, the Lacedaemonian, who immediately, though covered with wounds, raised a trophy, which he inscribed with his own blood, to Jupiter Tropaeus. This victory the Spartans, who from that time had quiet possession of the field, yearly celebrated with a festival, to commemorate the event.
{176b} A mountain of Thrace. Dion Cassius places it near Philippi. It was supposed to have abounded in golden mines in some parts of it.
{177} When AEacus was king of Thessaly, his kingdom was almost depopulated by a dreadful pestilence; he prayed to Jupiter to avert the distemper, and dreamed that he saw an innumerable quantity of ants creep out of an old oak, which were immediately turned into men; when he awoke the dream was fulfilled, and he found his kingdom more populous than ever; from that time the people were called Myrmidons. Such is the fable, which owed its rise merely to the name of Myrmidons, which it was supposed must come from [Greek], an ant. To some such trifling circumstances as these we are indebted for half the fables of antiquity.
{178a} See Homer’s “Iliad,” book i. 1. 294.
{178b} This was the opinion of Anaxagoras, and is confirmed by the more accurate observations of modern philosophy.
{179} See Pope’s Homer’s “Odyssey,” book x. 1. 113.
{180a} I.e. Such a countenance as he put on when he slew the rebellious Titans.
{180b} See Homer’s “Odyssey,” A. v. 170
{181} Otus and Ephialtes were two giants of an enormous size; some of the ancients, who, no doubt, were exact in their measurement, assure us that, at nine years old, they were nine cubits round, and thirty-six high, and grew in proportion, till they thought proper to attack and endeavour to dethrone Jupiter; for which purpose they piled mount Ossa and Pelion upon Olympus, made Mars prisoner, and played several tricks of this kind, till Diana, by artifice, subdued them, contriving, some way or other, to make them shoot their arrows against, and destroy each other, after which Jupiter sent them down to Tartarus. Some attribute to Apollo the honour of conquering them. This story has been explained, and allegorised, and tortured so many different ways, that it is not easy to unravel the foundation of it.
{182} Jupiter thought himself, we may suppose, much obliged to Phidias for the famous statue which he had made of him, and therefore, in return, complaisantly inquires after his family.
{183a} From Aratus.
{183b} A city of Elis, where there was a temple dedicated to Olympian Jupiter, and public games celebrated every fifth year.
{183c} A city of Thessaly, where there was a temple to Jove; this was likewise the seat of the famous oracle.
{183d} A goddess worshipped in Thrace. Hesychius says this was only another name for Diana. See Strabo.
{184} Alluding to his Republic, which probably was considered by Lucian and others as a kind of Utopian system.
{185a} See Homer’s “Iliad,” book xvi. 1. 250.
{185b} Of Elis, founder of the Sceptic sect, who doubted of everything. He flourished about the hundred and tenth Olympiad.
{187a} [Greek]
“–Not the bread of man their life sustains, Nor wine’s inflaming juice supplies their veins.” See Pope’s Homer’s “Iliad,” book v. 1. 425.
{187b} Greek, [Greek].
{187c} See the beginning of the second book of the “Iliad.”
{188a} Apollo is always represented as imberbis, or without a beard, probably from a notion that Phoebus, or the sun, must be always young.
{188b} See Homer’s “Iliad,” book xviii. 1. 134.
{189} See Homer’s “Iliad,” book ii. 1. 238.
{190} Greek, [Greek], what Virgil calls, ignavum pecus.