Chapter V: Part I: Greece (2)

Equally familiar is the jest of the pedant who was looking out for a place to prepare a tomb for himself, and on a friend indicating what he thought to be a suitable spot, “Very true,” said the pedant, “but it is unhealthy.” And we have the prototype of a modern “Irish” story in the following: A pedant sealed a jar of wine, and his slaves perforated it below and drew off some of the liquor. He was astonished to find his wine disappear while the seal remained intact. A friend, to whom he had communicated the affair, advised him to look and ascertain if the liquor had not been drawn off from below. “Why, you fool,” said he, “it is not the lower, but the upper, portion that is going off.”

It was a Greek pedant who stood before a mirror and shut his eyes that he might know how he looked when asleep--a jest which reappears in Taylor’s _Wit and Mirth_ in this form: “A wealthy monsieur in France (hauing profound reuenues and a shallow braine) was told by his man that he did continually gape in his sleepe, at which he was angry with his man, saying he would not belieue it. His man verified it to be true; his master said that he would neuer belieue any that told him so, except (quoth hee) I chance to see it with mine owne eyes; and therefore I will have a great Looking glasse at my bed’s feet for the purpose to try whether thou art a lying knaue or not.”

Not unlike some of our “Joe Millers” is the following: A citizen of Cumæ, on an ass, passed by an orchard, and seeing a branch of a fig-tree loaded with delicious fruit, he laid hold of it, but the ass went on, leaving him suspended. Just then the gardener came up, and asked him what he did there. The man replied, “I fell off the ass.”--An analogue to this drollery is found in an Indian story-book, entitled _Kathȧ Manjari_: One day a thief climbed up a cocoanut tree in a garden to steal the fruit. The gardener heard the noise, and while he was running from his house, giving the alarm, the thief hastily descended from the tree. “Why were you up that tree?” asked the gardener. The thief replied, “My brother, I went up to gather grass for my calf.” “Ha! ha! is there grass, then, on a cocoanut tree?” said the gardener. “No,” quoth the thief; “but I did not know; therefore I came down again.”--And we have a variant of this in the Turkish jest of the fellow who went into a garden and pulled up carrots, turnips, and other kinds of vegetables, some of which he put into a sack, and some into his bosom. The gardener, coming suddenly on the spot, laid hold of him, and said, “What are you seeking here?” The simpleton replied, “For some days past a great wind has been blowing, and that wind blew me hither.” “But who pulled up these vegetables?” “As the wind blew very violently, it cast me here and there; and whatever I laid hold of in the hope of saving myself remained in my hands.” “Ah,” said the gardener, “but who filled this sack with them?” “Well, that is the very question I was about to ask myself when you came up.”

The Greek Anthology brings together short poems and epigrams written during the thousand years between Simonides’ time and the sixth century A.D.

Collected shortly before the beginning of the Christian Era and added to later, they comprise about four thousand five hundred specimens, by three hundred authors. Few of these are witty, as, indeed, few are epigrammatic, but of them we quote some which seem most appurtenant.

FROM THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY

LUCIAN

_DARKNESS_

“A blockhead bit by fleas put out the light,
And, chuckling, cried, ‘Now you can’t see to bite!’”

CRATES

_CURES FOR LOVE_

“Hunger, perhaps, may cure your love,
Or time your passion greatly alter;
If both should unsuccessful prove,
I strongly recommend a halter.”

JULIAN

_BEER_

“What! whence this, Bacchus? For, by Bacchus’ self,
The son of Jove, I know not this strange elf.
The other smells like nectar; but thou here
Like the he-goat. Those wretched Celts, I fear,
For want of grapes, made thee of ears of corn.
Demetrius art thou, of Demeter born,
Not Bacchus, Dionysus, nor yet wine--
Those names but fit the products of the vine;
Beer thou mayst be from barley; or, that failing,
We’ll call thee ale, for thou wilt keep us ailing.”

AGATHIAS

_GRAMMAR AND MEDICINE_

“A thriving doctor sent his son to school
To gain some knowledge, should he prove no fool;
But took him soon away with little warning,
On finding out the lesson he was learning--
How great Pelides’s wrath, in Homer’s rime,
Sent many souls to Hades ere their time.
‘No need for this my boy should hither come;
That lesson he can better learn at home;
For I myself, now, I make bold to say,
Sent many souls to Hades ere their day,
Nor e’er found want of grammar stop my way.’”

NEARCHUS

_A SINGER_

“Men die when the night-raven sings or cries;
But when Dick sings, e’en the night-raven dies.”

AMMIANUS

_AN EPITAPH_

“Light lie the earth, Nearchus, on thy clay,
That so the dogs may easier find their prey.”

LUCILIUS

_ENVY_

“Poor Diophon of envy died,
His brother thief to see
Nailed next to him and crucified
Upon a higher tree.”

_A PROFESSOR WITH A SMALL CLASS_

“Hail, Aristides, rhetoric’s great professor!
Of wondrous words we own thee the possessor.
Hail ye, his pupils seven, that mutely hear him--
His room’s four walls, and the three benches near him.”

_FALSE CHARMS_

“Chloe, those locks of raven hair,
Some people say you dye with black;
But that’s a libel, I can swear,
For I know where you buy them black.”

_A SCHOOLMASTER WITH A GAY WIFE_

“You in your school forever flog and flay us,
Teaching what Paris did to Menelaus;
But all the while, within your private dwelling,
There’s many a Paris courting of your Helen.”

_BOARD OR LODGING_

“Asclepiades, the miser, in his house
Espied one day, to his surprise, a mouse.
‘Tell me, dear mouse,’ he cried, ‘to what cause is it
I owe this pleasant but unlooked-for visit?’
The mouse said, smiling, ‘Fear not for your hoard;
I come, my friend, to lodge, and not to board.’”

ANON

_CONVENIENT PARTNERSHIP_

“Damon, who plied the undertaker’s trade,
With Doctor Crateas an agreement made.
What linens Damon from the dead could seize,
He to the doctor sent for bandages;
While the good doctor, here no promise-breaker,
Sent all his patients to the undertaker.”

ANON

_LONG AND SHORT_

“Dick cannot blow his nose whene’er he pleases
His nose so long is, and his arm so short;
Nor ever cries, ‘God bless me!’ when he sneezes--
He cannot hear so distant a report.”

ANON

_THE LERNEANS_

“Lerneans are bad: not some bad and some not
But all; there’s not a Lernean in the lot,
Save Procles, that you could a good man call.
But Procles--is a Lernean, after all.”

ANON

_PERPLEXITY_

“Sad Heraclitus, with thy tears return;
Life more than ever gives us cause to mourn.
Democritus, dear droll, revisit earth;
Life more than ever gives us cause for mirth.
Between you both I stand in thoughtful pother,
How I should weep with one, how laugh with t’other.”

Beside his short poems, we quote a little of the prose of

LUCIAN

_A QUESTION OF PRECEDENCE_

ZEUS, ÆSCULAPIUS, _and_ HERACLES

“_Zeus._ Do, Æsculapius and Heracles, stop your wrangling, in which you indulge as if you were a couple of mortals; for this sort of behavior is unseemly, and quite strange to the banquets of the gods.

“_Heracles._ But, Zeus, would you have that quack drug-dealer there take his place at table above me?

“_Æsculapius._ By Zeus, yes, for I am certainly the better man.

“_Heracles._ How, you thunderstruck fellow, is it, pray, because Zeus knocked you on the head with his bolt for your unlawful actions, and because now, out of mere pity, by way of compensation, you have got a share of immortality?

“_Æsculapius._ What! have you, for your part, Heracles, altogether forgotten your having been burned to ashes on Mount Œta, that you throw in my teeth this fire you talk of?

“_Heracles._ We have not lived at all an equal or similar sort of life--I, who am the son of Zeus, and have undergone so many and great labors, purifying human life, contending against and conquering wild beasts, and punishing insolent and injurious men; whereas you are a paltry herb-doctor and mountebank, skilful, possibly, in palming off your miserable drugs upon sick fools, but who have never given proof of any noble, manly disposition.

“_Æsculapius._ You say well, seeing I healed your burns when you came up but now half-burned, with your body all marred and destroyed by the double cause of your death--the poisoned shirt, and afterward the fire. Now I, if I have done nothing else, at least have neither worked like a slave, as you have, nor have I carded wool in Lydia, dressed in a fine purple gown; nor have I been beaten by that Omphale of yours, with her golden slipper. No, nor did I, in a mad fit, kill my children and my wife!

“_Heracles._ If you don’t stop your ribald abuse of me at once, you shall very speedily learn your immortality will not avail you much; for I will take and pitch you head first out of heaven, so that not even the wonderful Pæon himself shall cure you and your broken skull.

“_Zeus._ Have done, I say, and don’t disturb the harmony of the company, or I will pack both of you off from the supper-room; although, to speak the truth, Heracles, it is fair and reasonable Æsculapius should have precedence of you at table, inasmuch as he even took precedence of you in death.”

--“_Dialogues of the Gods._”

_ODYSSEUS’S TRICK ON POLYPHEMUS_

POSEIDON _and_ POLYPHEMUS

“_Polyphemus._ Oh, father, what have I endured at the hands of the cursed stranger, who made me drunk and put out my eye, assaulting me when I was lulled to sleep!

“_Poseidon._ Who dared to do this, my poor Polyphemus?

“_Polyphemus._ In the first instance, he called himself Outis; but when he had got clear away, and was out of reach of my arrow, he said that his name was Odysseus.

“_Poseidon._ I know whom you speak of--him of Ithaca, and he was on his return voyage from Ilium. But how did he do it, for he is by no means a man of too much courage?

“_Polyphemus._ Returning from my accustomed attending of my flock, I caught a number of fellows in my cave, evidently having designs on my herds; for when I placed the stone block against the door--the rock is of huge size--and had lighted the fire by igniting the tree which I brought from the mountain, evidently they appeared to be trying to conceal themselves. Well, when I had got hold of some of them I devoured them for a pack of thieves, as was reasonable. Hereupon that most villainous rascal, whether he was Outis or Odysseus, pours out a sort of drug and gives me to drink--sweet, indeed, and of delicious smell, but most insidious, and which caused great disorder in my head; for, immediately upon my drinking, everything seemed to me to be in a whirl, and the cave itself was turned upside down, and I was no longer at all in my senses; and at last I was dragged down into sleep. Then sharpening the bar, and igniting it besides, he blinded me as I slept, and from that time I am a blind man, at your service, Poseidon.

“_Poseidon._ How soundly you slept, my son, that you did not jump up while you were being blinded! But as for this Odysseus, then, how did he escape? For he could not--I am well assured that he could not--move away the rock from the door.

“_Polyphemus._ Yes, but it was I who removed it, that I might the better catch him as he was going out; and, sitting down close to the door, I groped for him with extended hands, letting only my sheep go out to pasture, after having given instructions to the ram what he was to do in my place.

“_Poseidon._ I perceive: they slipped away unnoticed, under the sheep. But you ought to have shouted, and called the rest of the Cyclopes to your aid.

“_Polyphemus._ I did summon them, father, and they came. But when they asked the sneaking rascal’s name, and I said it was Outis, thinking I was in a mad fit, they took themselves off at once. Thus the cursed fellow tricked me with his name; and what especially vexes me is, that he actually threw my misfortune in my teeth. ‘Not even,’ said he, ‘will your father Poseidon cure you.’

“_Poseidon._ Never mind, my child, for I will revenge myself upon him; he shall learn that, even if it is not possible for me to heal the mutilation of people’s eyes, at all events the fate of voyagers is in my hands. And he is still at sea.”

--_Dialogues of the Sea-Gods._

Remembering that the dividing lines may not be too strictly drawn, we close our survey of Greek Humor with some of the fragments of Menander.

Menander, who was to the Middle or New Comedy what Aristophanes was to the Old Comedy, left only fragments. One bit, rather longer than the others, shows, with the inevitable animal element not lacking, a surprisingly modern spirit of satire.

“Suppose some god should say: Die when thou wilt,
Mortal, expect another life on earth;
And for that life make choice of all creation
What thou wilt be--dog, sheep, goat, man, or horse;
For live again thou must; it is thy fate;
Choose only in what form; there thou art free.
So help me, Crato, I would fairly answer
Let me be all things, anything but man.
He only of all creatures feels afflictions.
The generous horse is valued for his worth.
And dog by merit is preferred to dog,
And warrior cock is pampered for his courage,
And awes the baser brood. But what is man?
Truth, virtue, valour, how do they avail him?
Of this world’s good the first and greatest share
Is flattery’s prize. The informer takes the next.
And barefaced knavery garbles what is left.
I’d rather be an ass than what I am
And see these villains lord it o’er their betters.”

Other Fragments of Menander follow.

“Be off! these shams of golden tresses spare;
No honest woman ever dyes her hair.”

“Better to have, if good you rightly measure,
Little with joy than much that brings not pleasure,
Scant means with peace than piles of anxious treasure.”

“Marriage, if truth be told (of this be sure),
An evil is--but one we must endure.”

“Wretched is he that has one son; or, rather,
More wretched he who of more sons is father.”

“Think this, on marriage when your mind is set:
If the harm is small, ’tis the chief good you’ll get.”

“Slave not for one who has been himself a slave;
Steers, loosed from ploughs, of toil small memory have.”

“A handsome person, with perverted will,
Is a fine craft that’s handled without skill.”

“Let not a friend your cherished secrets hear;
Then, if you quarrel, you’ve no cause for fear.”

“More love a mother than a father shows:
He _thinks_ this is his son; she only _knows_.”

“Fathers’ and lovers’ threats no truth have got.
They swear dire vengeance,--but they mean it not.”

“Your petty tyrant’s insolence I hate;
If wrong is done me, be it from the great.”

“A lie has often, I have known before,
More weight than truth, and people trust it more.”

“Don’t talk of birth and family; all of those
Who have no natural worth on that repose.
Blue blood, grand pedigree, illustrious sires
He boasts of, who to nothing more aspires.
What use long ancestry your _pride_ to call?
One must have had them to be born at all!
And those who have no pedigree to show,
Or who their grandsires were but scantly know.”

“From change of homes or lack of friends at need,
And so have lost all record of their breed,
Are not more “low-born” than your men of blood;
A nigger’s well-born, if he makes for good!”

The following are a few more epigrammatic bits from the writings of less noted contemporaries.

PHILIPPIDES

’Tis easy, while at meals you take your fill,
To say to sickly people, Don’t be ill!
Easy to blame bad boxing at a fight,
But not so for oneself to do it right.
Action is one thing, talk another quite.

Your fortune differs as to bed and board;
Your wife--if ugly--can good fare afford.

DIPHILUS

Learn, mortal, learn thy natural ills to bear:
These, these alone thou _must_ endure; but spare
A heavier load upon thyself to bring
By burdens that from thine own follies spring.

When I am asked by some rich man to dine,
I mark not if the walls and roofs are fine,
Nor if the vases such as Corinth prizes,--
But _solely_ how the smoke from cooking rises.
If dense it runs up in a column straight,
With fluttering heart the dinner-hour I wait.
If, thin and scant, the smoke-puffs sideway steal,
Then I forebode a thin and scanty meal.

So plain is she, her father shuns the sight:
She holds out bread; no dog will take a bite.
So dark is she, that entering a room
Night seems to follow her, and all is gloom.

APOLLODORUS

Sweet is a life apart from toil and care;
Blessed lot, with others such repose to share!
But if with beasts and apes you have to do,
Why, _you_ must play the brute and monkey too!

In youth I felt for the untimely doom
Of offspring carried to an early tomb.
But now I weep when old men’s death I see;
That moved my pity; this comes home to _me_.

Seek not, my son, an old man’s ways to spurn;
To these in old age you yourself will turn.
Herein we fathers lose a point you gain;
When you of “father’s cruelty” complain,
“_You_ once were young,” we tauntingly are told.
We can’t retort, “My son, you once were old.”