Chapter VI: Part III: Roman Humour (2)

The age in which Lucian lived was marked by theological contests between Pagans, Jews, and Christians, and such times have generally caused an increase of scepticism and profanity. Lucian was a follower of Democritus, and his Confabulations consist of a succession of squibs and satires on the mythological legends of the gods and goddesses. He laughs at curing diseases by charms and incantations. People pretended to fly, walk on water and through fire--they are called Babylonians and Hyperboreans. A Syrian from Palestine professes to drive devils out of people (perhaps alluding to the exorcists of the early church.) He makes Eucrates speak of one Pancrates, who would take a broom or the pestle of a wooden mortar, and upon saying a couple of magical words, it appeared to become a man, drew water, and ordered food. When Pancrates had no further need of him, he spoke a couple of words, and the man was a pestle again. Eucrates tried this himself, but having made the pestle a man, and told him to bring water, he forgot how to change him back again. So he kept on bringing water. Eucrates then split the pestle in two, and both halves still continued to bring water.

Demonax, the friend of Lucian, was as remarkable for his wit and repartee as for his kindly nature. A man who over-rated his austerity, expressed one day his surprise at seeing him eat sweet-cakes. "Do you think," he replied, "that the bees make their honey only for fools?" He seems to have had as little respect as Lucian for the idolatry of his day, for on one of his companions saying to him "Let us go to the Temple of Æsculapius to pray for my son," he answered, "Is the god then so deaf that he cannot hear us where we are?"

He lived and died a bachelor, and we are told that on being blamed by Epictetus, with whom he studied, for not marrying and having a family as a philosopher should, he replied "Very well, give me one of your daughters." Epictetus was an old bachelor.

He counselled a bad orator to practise and exercise himself in the art of speaking, and on his replying, "I am always doing so--to myself," he added, "It is therefore not surprising you speak as you do--having a fool for your audience."

When the sophist Sidonius, delivering a long panegyric on himself, said that he was acquainted with all the tenets of the philosophers: "If Aristotle calls me to the Lyceum, I obey; if Plato to the Academy, I come; Zeno to the Stoa, I take up my abode there; if Pythagoras calls, I am silent:" Demonax jumped up in the middle of the Assembly and cried out, "Pythagoras calls you."

His humour was purely genial and jocose, as when, on the point of setting sail in winter, he replied to a friend who asked him whether he was not afraid he should be ship-wrecked and go to feed the fishes, "Should I not be ungrateful were I unwilling to be devoured by fishes, when I have feasted on so many myself?"

But there is one speech of his which must ever make his memory dear to all good men. When the Athenians wished to emulate the Corinthians by exhibiting a gladiatorial combat, he said, "Do not vote this, Athenians, before ye have taken down the Altar of Mercy."

Demonax lived to a ripe old age, and we are told that he was so much beloved in Athens that, as he passed the bread-shops, the bakers would run out to beg his acceptance of a loaf, and thought it a good omen if he complied; and that the little children called him father, and would bring him presents of fruit.

Apuleius wrote in Latin in the second century. He was a native of Carthage--not the celebrated Carthage of Terence, but that of Cyprian--a new city. He travelled like many of the learned men of his time to Athens and Alexandria, and thus, most probably, became acquainted with his contemporary Lucian. At any rate, his "Golden Ass" seems taken from the work by that author. Bishop Warburton has seen in his production a subtle attack upon Christianity, but we may take it as intended to ridicule magical arts, and those who believed in them. He was likely to feel keenly on this subject, for having married a rich widow, Pudentilla, her relatives accused him of having obtained her by witchcraft, and even dragged him into a court of justice.

Lucian ridiculed the religion of his day, Apuleius its superstitions. Apuleius speaks of his "book of jests," but it is lost--the few lines he gives out of it are a somewhat matter-of-fact recommendation of tooth-powder. His enemies thought that tooth-powder was something magical and unholy--at any rate, they made his mention of it a charge against him. In reply, he says that perhaps a man who only opens his mouth to revile ought not to have tooth-powder.

In the "Golden Ass," Apuleius gravely supposes that transformations take place between men and the lower animals. He makes Aristomenes tell a story in which a witch appears, "able to drag down the firmament, to support the world on her shoulders, crumble mountains, raise the dead, dethrone gods, extinguish the stars, and illuminate hell." She changed one of her lovers, of whom she was jealous, into a beaver, and persecuted him with hunters. She punished the wife of another of them, who was about to increase her family, by condemning her to remain in that condition. "It is now eight years since she has been growing larger and larger, and seems as though about to produce an elephant."

Lucius goes to Thessaly, celebrated for its witches, and a good story is told how returning late from supper he finds three men battering against his door. Taking them for robbers he draws his dagger, and stabs them, and the ground is covered with blood. Next day he is tried for murder, and about to be crucified, when the corpses are brought into court, and are found to be three wine-skins. He is told that this was a trick played on him upon the day when they usually celebrated the festival of the god of laughter, but it seems to have been really owing to an incantation. He sees Pamphile, his hostess, change herself into an owl, thinks he also will transform himself into a bird, and anoints himself with some of the witch's preparations. By mistake, taking the wrong ointment, he transforms himself into a donkey. He then goes to look for his horse, who, thinking he is coming to eat his food, kicks him out, and soon afterwards he is well thrashed by his servant boy. He is told that eating fresh roses will restore him to his former self, but for various reasons he cannot get any. Being hungry he goes into a kitchen garden, and makes a good meal of the vegetables, for which transgression he is nearly killed by the gardener. To prevent this he kicks the man over, whereupon a general outcry was raised, and great dogs rush upon him. After this persecution he is in danger of dying of starvation--"spiders began to spin their webs on his lips," but becoming instrumental in saving a young girl, he receives better treatment. He is then bought by vagrants, who go about playing cymbals, and carrying an image of the Syrian goddess. He is accompanied by a troop of fanatical priests, who dance and scourge themselves. While the priests are being royally entertained by one of their votaries, a dog runs off with a haunch of venison, and the cook, not knowing what to do, conceives the project of killing the ass, and dressing one of his haunches instead. To avoid this the donkey breaks loose, and gallops into the supper room. After the band of priests is dispersed, owing to their thieving propensities, the donkey is sold to a baker, and by him to a gardener, and nearly dies of cold and exposure. Then he becomes the property of the servants of a very rich man, and is found eating up the remains of their supper. This greatly amuses them all, and their lord orders him to be brought to his table. A buffoon, or parasite, who sat among the guests, exclaims "Give him a cup of wine," and he was taught various tricks. His fame increases so that his master only admits people to see him on payment. Finally being taken to the circus, and afraid that some of the wild beasts might eat him by mistake, he slips away and gallops to Cenchroea, where he prays to the goddess Iris, and is by her restored to his human form. The descriptions in this work are often very beautiful, and the humour in describing the misfortunes of the ass is excellent.

In contrast to the humour of Lucian and Apuleius, we may place that of the Emperor Julian, an ascetic and devotee, who was nephew of Constantine the Great, and brought up a Christian. Julian's early life was spent in terror, for Constantius, Constantine's son, imprisoned him at Milan, after having put his elder brother to death. Perhaps this treatment at the hands of a Christian may have prejudiced him against the new religion, or his mild disposition may have been scandalized at the fierceness of theological controversies, or at the lives of many of the converts. His early education and experiences of life were more inclined to imbue him with principles of toleration than to make him a zealous Christian, and, finally, when he arrived at the age of twenty, he determined to return back into Paganism. This retrograde movement, not altogether out of keeping with his quaint character and love of antiquity, has stamped him with the opprobrious title of the "Apostate," but in moral excellence he was superior to the age in which he lived. Many of his writings show a sense of humour, such as that he wrote in Lutetia (Paris) on "Barley wine" the drink of the Gauls.

"Who and whence art thou, Dionyse? for, by true Bacchus
I know thee not, but Jove's great son alone,
He smells of nectar, thou of goats, truly the Celts
For want of grapes made thee of ears of corn;
Wherefore thou shouldst be Cereal called, not Bacchus,
Pyrogenes and Bromos, not Bromion."[27]

Julian's principal work is on the Cæsars. He commences it by saying that he is not addicted to jesting, but he will relate a sort of fable in which all the gods and Cæsars are called to a great banquet. Accordingly, he introduces various characters. Julius Cæsar seems in his pride to wish to dispute the throne even with Jupiter. Augustus he compares to a chameleon, sometimes one colour, sometimes another; one moment a visage full of sorrow, another smiling.

Tiberius has a fierce countenance, and shows the marks of intemperance and debauchery. "Take care he does not pull your ear," says Bacchus, "for thus he treated a grammarian." "He had better," returned Silenus, "bemoan himself in his solitary island, and tear the face of some miserable fisherman."[28]

Constantine, not finding among the gods any type of his character, betook himself to the goddess of pleasure. She, receiving him softly and embracing him, trimmed him up and adorned him, dressed him in a shining and many-coloured woman's gown, and led him away to demoralization. With her he found one of his sons, who loudly proclaimed to all, "Whosoever is a seducer, a murderer, or shameless, let him advance boldly, for by washing him with water I will immediately make him pure; and if he should be again guilty of such things, I will grant him to be pure on striking his breast, or beating his head."[29] At the end of this "fable," the Emperors are called upon to speak in their defence. Constantine being asked what object he had in view, replied "to amass great riches and spend them on myself and friends." Silenus burst into a fit of laughter, and retorted "You now wish to pass for a banker, but how can you forget your living like a cook, or a hair-dresser?" alluding to his luxurious feastings, and his wearing gold-flowered stuffs, and a diadem of jewels.

Gibbon calls this work on the Cæsars one of the most agreeable and instructive productions of ancient wit.

Julian prided himself on his primitive and severe life, and made himself ridiculous by wearing a long unfashionable beard--either in imitation of the Gauls, or of the ancient philosophers. It is probable that he persisted in this habit to discountenance the effeminacy of the times. He says that soon after he entered Constantinople, he had occasion to send for a barber. An officer, magnificently dressed, presented himself. "It is a barber," said the prince, "that I want, and not a minister of finance." He questioned the man about his profits, and was informed that besides a large salary and some valuable perquisites, he enjoyed a daily allowance of twenty servants and as many horses! Not only was Julian strongly opposed to luxury, but he was, as far as his light went, a religious man, and was strict in observing the feasts and festivals of the heathen deities. All his antiquated peculiarities are brought strongly before us on the occasion of his visit to Antioch. Strabo tells us that this was one of the largest cities in the world--little inferior in extent to Alexandria and Seleucia. It was noted for its gaieties, and seems now to have been the centre of fashion. The new religion had been, at least nominally, adopted, and also the new costumes, as well as every kind of luxury and dissipation. Chrysostom bears witness to the same effect. The town was full of dancers, pipers, and players, camels "adorned like brides" stalked through the porticos, and fish and poultry had come to be considered as necessaries of life. There were here many people of leisure and cultivation, fond of light and fanciful pursuits, and among others of forming verbal conceits. Hence, we find that the disciples were first called _Christians_ at Antioch, no doubt, derisively,[30] and in Julian's time they had a cant saying that they had suffered nothing from the X or the K (Christ or Constantius). A celebrated school of rhetoric was established here, and no doubt some of the effusions penned at this time, abounded with rich and epigrammatic humour.

It must have been a rare sight for these polished and satirical Christians of Antioch to behold Julian celebrating the festivals of the pagan gods. To view the procession of Venus--a long line of all the dissolute women in the town, singing loose songs--followed by the lean, uncouth Roman Emperor, with his shaggy beard, and terminated by a military train. No wonder they hooted him, and wrote lampoons upon him. But Julian thought he was performing a solemn duty; he by no means intended to countenance immorality. "Far from us," he says, "be all licentious jests and scurrilous discourse--let no priest read Archilochus or Hipponax." He gives an amusing account of his reception at the celebrated grove of Daphnæ, near Antioch, which he visited at the time of the annual festival. He expected to see a profusion of wealth and splendour. He pictured to himself the solemn pomp, the victims, the libations, the dancers, the incense, the children in white robes. When he entered the temple, full of such elevated thoughts, he found there neither incense, cake, nor victims. Much surprised, he could only suppose that the people were waiting at the gate, by way of respect, for a signal from the sovereign Pontiff. He therefore asked the priest what offering the city was about to make on this great anniversary; to which he replied, "The city has furnished nothing, but I have brought the god a goose from my own house."

Julian says the people of Antioch had transfixed him with sarcasms, as with arrows. In accordance, however, with his peaceful disposition, he only retaliated by writing the Misopogon or "Beard-hater." "No law," he says, "forbids me to satirise myself." He begins with his face and says,

"Although naturally good-looking, moroseness and bad manners have led me to wear a long beard for no apparent reason but that nature has not made it handsome. Therefore, I allow lice to run about in it like wild beasts in a wood, nor have I the power of eating or drinking much, for I must be cautious, lest I eat hairs along with bread. About being kissed, or kissing, I do not much care; still a beard has this inconvenience among others, that it does not allow us to join pure lips to those that are pure, and, therefore, the sweeter. You say that ropes should be twisted out of it, and I would willingly grant this, if only you were able to draw out the bristles, so that your soft and delicate hands should not suffer from their roughness."

He says that he never goes to the theatre, and hates horse-races. As to domestic matters, "I pass sleepless nights upon a bed of straw, and insufficient food makes my manners severe and offensive to a luxurious city. Do not think that I do this on your account--a great and senseless mistake has led me from my childhood to wage war with my stomach." He is not at all surprised that they should follow the dissolute habits of the founder of their city, Antiochus, and that they think of nothing but dressing, bathing, and love-making--charges which could not be brought against himself. He esteems dancers and players "no more than the frogs of the lakes," and tells a story, that when Cato came into the city of Antioch, seeing all the young men under arms, and the magistrates in their robes, he thought the parade was in his honour. He blamed his friends for having told them he was coming, and advanced with some hesitation, when the master of the ceremonies came up and asked, "Stranger, how far off is Demetrius?" a man who had been a slave of Pompey, but had become immensely rich. Cato made no reply, but exclaimed, "O, miserable city!" and departed.

The Misopogon is unique as a mock disparagement of self. Although written in condemnation of the Antiochians, a vein of pleasantry runs through it, which shows that Julian was not vindictive, and had a considerable gift of humour. Had he lived to mature age, he would probably have left some brilliant literary work. But shortly after his visit to Antioch, he led an expedition into Persia, and with his usual disregard of danger, entered the battle without his armour, and was mortally wounded.

We read that the Roman girls were very fond of amusing themselves in their leisure hours by making "scirpi" or riddles. They do not seem to have indulged much in puns, or to have attempted anything very intricate, but rather to have aimed at testing knowledge and memory. We have few specimens remaining of their art, but such as we have are of that early kind, which demand some special information for their solutions. Aulus Gellius has preserved one "old by Hercules," which turns on the legend that when Tarquinius Superbus was installing Jupiter at the Capitol, all the other gods were ready to leave except Terminus, who being by his character immovable, and having no legs, refused to depart.[31] Two other specimens are found in Virgil's bucolics:--

"Say in what lands grow flowers inscribed with names
Of kings--and Phyllis shall be yours alone,"

referring to the hyacinth, on whose petals the word Ajax was supposed to be found. The responding couplet runs:--

"Say, and my great Apollo thou shalt be,
Where heaven's span extends but three ells wide;"

the answer to which is not known.

Probably some riddles of an earlier date may be incorporated in the book of Symposius. Nothing is known of the life of this author, and it has been suggested that the word should be Symposium or the "Banquet"--these enigmas being supposed to be delivered after dinner. But most authorities consider Symposius to have lived in the fourth century, although an examination of his prosody might lead us to place him not earlier than the fifth. Very few of the riddles are really ingenious; among the best we may reckon:--

"Letters sustain me--yet I know them not,
I live on books, and yet I never read,
The Muses I've devoured and gained no knowledge."

This is tolerably self-evident, but some require special information as:--

"You can behold what you can scarce believe
There is but one eye, yet a thousand heads,
Who sells what he has, whence shall he get what he has not?"

Few would ever guess that this referred to a one-eyed man selling garlic. But the greater number of these conceits are merely emblematic descriptions of well-known things, and are more vague than epigrammatic, as,

"I am the purple of the earth suffused with lovely tints and girt,
lest I be wronged with pointed spears. Happy indeed! had I but
length of life."

"There's a new capture of some well-known game, that what you catch
not, you bear off with you."

"Hoarsely amidst the waves I raise my voice
It sounds with praise with which it lauds itself,
And though I ever sing, no one applauds."

"Spontaneous coming, I show various forms,
I feign vain fears, when there is no true conflict,
But no one can see me till he shuts his eyes."

"By art four equal sisters run
As if in contest, though the labour's one,
And both are near, nor can each other touch."[32]

We know little of Macrobius except that he was a Greek, and lived in the fifth century. His principal work was his "Saturnalia," and he selected for it this title and plan, because, as he tells us, men were in his day so much occupied with business, that it was only in the annual festival of misrule that they had any time for reflection or social intercourse. The "Saturnalia," occupied the greater part of December, and Macrobius represents a company of magnates and wits agreeing to meet daily to discuss in the morning topics of importance, and to spend the evening in light and jocund conversation. His work treats of astronomy, mythology, poetry and rhetoric, but it is most interesting with regard to our present subject, where he brings before us one of those scenes of convivial merriment of which we have often heard. The party are to relate humorous anecdotes in turn. Avienus says that they should be intellectual not voluptuous, to which the president, Prætextatus, replies, that they will not banish pleasure as an enemy, nor consider it to be the greatest good. After these suggestions they commence:--

Prætextatus records a saying of Hannibal. Antiochus, to whom he had fled, showed him in a plain a vast army he had collected to make war with the Romans; the men were adorned with gold and silver, there were chariots with scythes, elephants with towers, cavalry shining with ornamental bits and housings. Then turning to Hannibal, he asked him if he thought they would be enough for the Romans. The Carthaginian, smiling at the weakness and cowardice of the gaudily accoutred host, replied, "Certainly, I think they will be enough for them, however greedy they may be."

Furius Albinus says that after the flight at Mutina, on some lady asking what Antony was doing, one of his friends replied, "What the dogs do in Egypt--drink and run!" "It is well known," he adds, "that there the dogs run while they drink, for fear of the crocodiles."

Avenienus says that the sister of Faustus, the son of Sylla, had two lovers--one of them, Fulvius, the son of a fuller; the other Pomponius, nick-named Spot. "I wonder," he said, "that my sister should have a spot, when she has a fuller."

The remaining guests speak more at length, and their discourses occupy a considerable portion of the book.

The example set by Martial gradually led to a considerable development of epigrammatic literature. A humorous epigram survives, written by Trajan on a man with a large nose:

"By placing your nose and gaping mouth opposite the sun
You will tell wayfarers the hour."

Justinian in the sixth century is supposed to have assisted Paul the Silentiary--a sort of master of the ceremonies--in his compositions; but it may be hoped that the Emperor was not an accomplice in producing the impurities with which they are disfigured. Here and there, however, a few sweet flowers are found in his poisonous garland. We may hope that he often received such a cool welcome as that he commemorates in his "Drenched Lover."

Hierocles and Philagrius are supposed to have lived in the fifth century, but the jests and stories which bear their names seem to be much later. They are based upon violations of the primary laws of nature and mind, but have not the subtlety of the syllogistic quibbles, which were the work of learned grammarians or the logicians of a better period. Being little more than Bulls, they excite scarcely any emotion and no laughter, although evincing a certain cleverness. The hero is generally a "Scholastic," who is represented as a sort of fool. A friend of Scholasticus going abroad asks him to buy him some books. Scholasticus forgets all about it, and when he meets his friend on his return, says, "By the way, I never received that letter you wrote about the books." A man meeting Scholasticus says, "The slave you sold me died." "Did he? By the gods," replied the other, "he never played me that trick." Scholasticus meeting a friend exclaims, "Why, I heard you were dead!" The other replies, "Well, I tell you that I'm alive." "Yes," persists Scholasticus, "but the man who told me so was more veracious than you!" A promising son apostrophizes his father, "Base varlet! don't you see how you have wronged me? If you had never been born and stood in the way I should have come into all my grandfather's money."

The humour which has come to us from classic times, brings the life of ancient Greece and Rome near to our own firesides. It is not that of a primitive or decaying civilization, but of one advanced and matured, resembling our own, in which density of population has brought a clashing of interests, and enlarged knowledge has produced a variety of thought upon a great multiplicity of home and foreign subjects. We can thus bridge over two thousand years, and obtain, as it were, a grasp of the Past, in which we find men so very like ourselves, not only in their strong emotions, but in their little conceits and vanities, and their opinions of each other.

ENGLISH HUMOUR.