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7

[After a noise of lashes and screams from behind the scenes, Demosthenes comes out, and is followed by Nicias the supposed victim of flagellation (both in the dress of slaves). Demosthenes breaks outs in great wrath; while Nicias remains exhibiting various contorsions of pain for the amusement of the audience.]
Dem.
—Out! out alas! what a scandal! what a shame!
May Jove in his utter wrath crush and confound
That rascally new-bought Paphlagonian slave!
For from the very first day that he came—
Brought here for a plague and a mischief amongst us all,
We're beaten and abus'd continually.

Nic.
—[whimpering in a broken voice.]
I say so too, with all my heart I do,
A rascal, with his slanders and lies!
A rascally Paphlagonian! so he is!

Dem.
—[roughly and good humouredly.]
How are you my poor soul?

Nic.
—[pettishly and whining.]
Why poorly enough;
And so are you for that matter.

[Nicias continues writhing and moaning.]
Dem.
—[as if speaking to a child that had hurt himself.]
Well come here then!
Come, and we'll cry together, both of us,
We'll sing it to Olympus's old tune.


8

Both
—[Demosthenes accompanies Nicias's involuntary sobs, so as to make a tune of them.]
Mo moo momoo—momoo momoo—Momoo momoo.

Dem.
—[suddenly and heartily.]
Come grief's no use—It's folly to keep crying.
Let's look about us a bit, what's best to be done.

Nic.
—[recovering himself.]
Aye, tell me; what do you think?

Dem.
—No you tell me—
Lest we should disagree.

Nic.
—That's what I won't!
Do you speak boldly first, and I'll speak next.

Dem.
—[significantly, as quoting a well known verse.]
“You first might utter, what I wish to tell.”

Nic.
—Aye, but I'm so down-hearted, I've not spirit
To bring about the avowal cleverly,
In Euripides's stile, by question and answer.

Dem.
—Well then don't talk of Euripides any more,
Or his mother either; don't stand picking endive:

His mother was said to have been an herb woman. See Ach. pp. 26, 27.


But think of something in another stile,
To the tune of “Trip and away.”

Nic.
—Yes I'll contrive it:
Say “Let us” first; put the first letter to it,
And then the last, and then put E, R, T.
“Let us Az ert.” I say “Let us Azert.”
'Tis now your turn—take the next letter to it.

9

Put B for A.

Dem.
—“Let us Bezert” I say—

Nic.
—'Tis now my turn—“Let us Cezert” I say.
'Tis now your turn.

Dem.
—“Let us Dezert” I say.

Nic.
—You've said it!—and I agree to it—now repeat it
Once more!

Dem.
—Let us Dezert! Let us Dezert!

Nic.
—That's well.

Dem.
—But somehow it seems unlucky, rather,
An awkward omen to meet with in a morning!
“To meet with our Deserts!”

Nic.
—That's very true;
Therefore I think, in the present state of things,
The best thing for us both, would be, to go
Directly to the shrine of one of the gods;
And pray for mercy, both of us together.

Dem.
—Shrines? shrines!—Why sure, you don't believe in the gods.

Nic.
—I do.

Dem.
—But what's your argument?—Where's your proof?

Nic.
—Because I feel they persecute me and hate me,
In spite of every thing I try to please 'em,

Dem.
—Well well. That's true; you're right enough in that.

Nic.
—Let's settle something.

Dem.
—Come then,—if you like
I'll state our case at once, to the audience here.

Nic.
—It would not be much amiss; but first of all,
We must intreat of them; if the scene and action
Have entertained them hitherto, to declare it,
And encourage us with a little applause before hand.

Dem.
—[to the audience]
Well come now! I'll tell ye about it—Here are we

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A couple of servants—with a master at home
Next door to the hustings.—He's a man in years,
A kind of a

In allusion to the beans used in balloting.

bean-fed husky testy character,

Coleric and brutal at times and partly deaf.
It's near about a month now, that he went
And bought a slave out of a tanner's yard,
A Paphlagonian born, and brought him home,
As wicked a slanderous wretch as ever liv'd.
This fellow, the Paphlagonian, has found out
The blind side of our master's understanding,
With fawning and wheedling in this kind of way:
“Would not you please to go to the bath, Sir? surely
“It's not worth while to attend the courts to day.”—

Sacrifices with distribution of meat, and largesses to the people on holidays.


And “Would not you please to take a little refreshment?
“And there's that nice hot broth—And here's the three-pence
“You left behind you—And would not you order supper?”
Moreover when we get things out of compliment
As a present for our master, he contrives
To snatch 'em and serve 'em up before our faces.
I'd made a Spartan cake at Pylos lately,
And mix'd and kneaded it well, and watch'd the baking;
But he stole round before me and served it up:
And he never allows us to come near our master
To speak a word; but stands behind his back
At meal-times, with a monstrous leathern fly-flap,
Slapping and whisking it round and rapping us off.
Sometimes the old man falls into moods and fancies,
Searching the prophecies till he gets bewildered;
And then the Paphlagonian plies him up,
Driving him mad with oracles and predictions.
And that's his harvest. Then he slanders us,

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And gets us beaten and lashed, and goes his rounds
Bullying in this way, to squeeze presents from us:
“You saw what a lashing Hylas got just now;
“You'd best make friends with me, if you love your lives.”
Why then, we give him a trifle, or if we don't,
We pay for it; for the old fellow knocks us down,
And kicks us on the ground, and stamps and rages,
And tramples out the very guts of us—
[turning to Nicias]
So now, my worthy fellow; we must take
A fixed determination;—now's the time,
Which way to turn ourselves and what to do.

Nic.
—Our last determination was the best:
That which we settled to A' Be Cè De-zert.

Dem.
—Aye, but we could not escape the Paphlagonian,
He overlooks us all; he keeps one foot
In Pylos, and another in the assembly;
And stands with such a stature, stride and grasp;
That while his mouth is open in Eatolia,

Etolia Locrians Perrhebians


One hand is firmly clench'd upon the Lucrians,
And the other stretching forth to the Peribribèans.

Nic.

In utter despondency, but with a sort of quiet quakerish composure.

—Let's die then, once for all; that's the best way,

Only we must contrive to managé it,
Nobly and manfully in a proper manner.

Dem.
—Aye, aye—Let's do things manfully! that's my maxim!

Nic.

as before.

—Well, there's the example of Themistocles—

To drink bull's blood: that seems a manly death.

Dem.
—Bull's blood! The blood of the grape I say! good wine!
Who knows? it might inspire some plan some project,
Some notion or other, a good draught of it!

Nic.
—Wine truly! wine!—still hankering after liquor!

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Can wine do any thing for us? Will your drink
Enable you to arrange a plan to save us?
Can wisdom ever arise from wine, do ye think?

Dem.
—Do ye say so? You're a poor spring-water pitcher!
A silly chilly soul.—I'll tell ye what:

Though Dem. has not been drinking, his speech has the tone of a drunken man.

It's a very presumptous thing to speak of liquor,

As an obstacle to people's understanding;
It's the only thing for business and dispatch.
D'ye observe how individuals thrive and flourish
By dint of drink: they prosper in proportion;
They improve their properties; they get promotion;
Make speeches, and make interest, and make friends.
Come, quick now—bring me a lusty stoup of wine,
To moisten my understanding and inspire me.

Nic.
—Oh dear! your drink will be the ruin of us!

Dem.
—It will be the making of ye!—Bring it here.
[exit Nicias.
I'll rest me a bit; but when I've got my fill,
I'll overflow them all, with a flood of rhetoric,
With metaphors and phrases and what not.—

[Nicias returns in a sneaking way with a pot of wine.
Nic.
—[in a sheepish silly tone of triumph.]
How lucky for me it was, that I escap'd
With the wine that I took!

Dem.
—[carelessly aad bluntly.]
Well, where's the Paphlagonian?

Nic.
—[as before.]
He's fast asleep—within there, on his back,
On a heap of hides—the rascal! with his belly full,
With a hash of confiscations half-digested.

Dem.
—That's well!—Now fill me a hearty lusty draught.

Nic.
—[formally and precisely.]
Make the libation first, and drink this cup

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To the good Genius.

Dem.
—[respiring after a long draught.]
O most worthy Genius!
Good Genius! 'tis your genius that inspires me!

[Demosthenes remains in a sort of drunken burlesque ecstasy.
Nic.
—Why what's the matter?

Dem.
—I'm inspir'd to tell you,
That you must steal the Paphlagonian's oracles
Whilst he's asleep.

Nic.
—Oh dear then, I'm afraid,
This Genius will turn out my evil Genius.

[exit Nicias.
Dem.
—Come I must meditate, and consult my pitcher;
And moisten my understanding a little more.

[The interval of Nicias's absence is occupied by action in dumb show: Demosthenes is enjoying himself and getting drunk in private.]
Nic.
—[re-entering with a packet.]
How fast asleep the Paphlagonian was!
Lord bless me, how mortally he snor'd and f....d.
However I've contriv'd to carry it off,
The sacred oracle that he kept so secret—
I've stol'n it from him.

Dem.
—[very drunk]
That's my clever fellow!
Here give us hold; I must read 'em. Fill me a bumper.
In the mean while—make haste now. Let me see now—
What have we got?—What are they,—these same papers?
Oh! oracles!..... o—ra—cles!—Fill me a stoup of wine.

[In this part of the scene a contrast is kept up, between the subordinate nervous eagerness of poor Nicias, and the predominant

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drunken phlegmatic indifference of Demosthenes; who is supposed to amuse himself with irritating the impatience of his companion; while he details to him by driblets the contents of his own packet.]

Nic.
—[fidgeting and impatient after giving him the wine.]
Come! come! what says the Oracle?

Dem.
—Fill it again!

Nic.
—Does the Oracle say, that I must fill it again?

Dem.
—[after tumbling over the papers with a hiccup.]
O Bakis!

Dem.'s articulation of this word is assisted by a hiccup.



Nic.
—What?

Dem.
—Fill me the stoup this instant.

Nic.
—[with a sort of puzzled acquiescence.]
Well, Bakis, I've been told, was given to drink;
He prophecied in his liquor people say.

Dem.
—[with the papers in his hand.]
Aye, there it is,—you rascally Paphlagonian!
This was the prophecy that you kept so secret.

Nic.
—What's there?

Dem.
—Why there's a thing to ruin him,
With the manner of his destruction, all foretold.

Nic.
—As how?

Dem.
—[very drunk.]
Why the Oracle tells you how—distinctly—
And all about it—in a perspicuous manner—

After the death of Pericles, Eucrates and Lysicles had each taken the lead for a short time.

That a jobber in hemp and flax is first ordain'd

To hold the administration of affairs.

Nic.
—Well there's one jobber. Who's the next? Read on!

After the death of Pericles, Eucrates and Lysicles had each taken the lead for a short time.



Dem.
A cattle jobber must succeed to him.

Nic.
More jobbers! well—then what becomes of him?

Dem.
—He too shall prosper, till a viler rascal
Shall be rais'd up, and shall prevail against him,

15

In the person of a Paphlagonian tanner,
A loud rapacious leather-selling ruffian.

Nic.
—Is it foretold then, that the cattle jobber
Must be destroy'd by the seller of leather?

Dem.
—Yes.

Nic.
—Oh dear our sellers and jobbers are at an end.

Dem.
—Not yet; there's still another to succeed him,
Of a most uncommon notable occupation.

Nic.
—Who's that? Do tell me!

Dem.
—Must I?

Nic.
—To be sure—

Dem.
—A sausage-seller it is, that supersedes him.

Nic.

In the tone of Domine Sampson.

—A sausage-seller! marvellous indeed,

Most wonderful! But where can he be found?

Dem.
—We must seek him out.

[Demosthenes rises and bustles up, with the action of a person who having been drunk, is rousing and recollecting himself for a sudden important occasion. His following speeches are all perfectly sober.]
Nic.
—But see there, where he comes!
Sent hither providentially as it were!

Dem.
—Oh happy man! celestial sausage-seller!
Friend, guardian and protector of us all!
Come forward; save your friends, and save the country.

S. S.
—Do you call me?

Dem.
—Yes, we call'd to you, to announce
The high and happy destiny that awaits you.

Nic.
—Come, now you should set him free from the incumbrance

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Of his table and basket; and explain to him
The tenor and the purport of the Oracle,
While I go back to watch the Paphlagonian.

[exit Nicias.
Dem.
—[to the Sausage-seller gravely.]
Set these poor wares aside; and now,—bow down
To the ground; and adore the powers of earth and heaven.

S. S.
—Heigh day! Why what do you mean?

Dem.
—O happy man!
Unconscious of your glorious destiny,
Now mean and unregarded; but to-morrow,
The mightiest of the mighty, Lord of Athens.

S. S.
—Come master, what's the use of making game?
Why can't ye let me wash the guts and tripe,
And sell my sausages in peace and quiet?

Dem.
—O simple mortal, cast those thoughts aside!
Bid guts and tripe farewell!—Look there!—Behold
[pointing to the audience.
The mighty assembled multitude before ye!

S. S.
—[with a grumble of indifference.]
I see 'em.

Dem.
—You shall be their lord and master,
The sovereign and the ruler of them all,
Of the assemblies and tribunals, fleets and armies;
You shall trample down the senate under foot,
Confound and crush the generals and commanders,
Arrest, imprison and confine in irons,
And feast and fornicate in the council house.

S. S.
—What I?


17

Dem.
—Yes you yourself: there's more to come.
Mount here; and from the tressels of your stall
Survey the subject islands circling round.

S. S.
—I see 'em.

Dem.
—And all their ports and merchant vessels?

S. S.
—Yes all.

Dem.
—Then an't you a fortunate happy man?
An't you content?—Come then for a further prospect—
—Turn your right eye to Caria, and your left
To Carthage!

“Carthage” must be the true reading, the right eye to Caria and the left to “Chalcedon” would not constitute a squint.

—and contemplate both together.


S. S.
—Will it do me good d'ye think, to learn to squint?

Dem.
—Not so; but every thing you see before you
Must be dispos'd of at your high discretion,
By sale or otherwise; for the oracle
Predestines you to sovereign power and greatness.

S. S.
—Are there any means of making a great man,
Of a sausage—selling fellow such as I?

Dem.
—The very means you have, must make ye so,
Low breeding, vulgar birth and impudence,
These, these must make ye, what you're meant to be.

S. S.
—I can't imagine that I'am good for much.

Dem.
—Alas! But why do ye say so?—What's the meaning
Of these misgivings?—I discern within ye
A promise and an inward consciousness
Of greatness. Tell me truly: are ye allied
To the families of gentry?

S. S.
—Naugh, not I;
I'm come from a common ordinary kindred,
Of the lower order.

Dem.
—What a happiness!—
What a footing will it give ye! What a groundwork

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For confidence and favor at your outset!

S. S.
—But bless ye! only consider my education!
I can but barely read... in a kind of a way.

Dem.
—That makes against ye!—The only thing against ye—
The being able to read, in any way:
For now; no lead nor influence is allow'd
To liberal arts or learned education,
But to the brutal, base, and under-bred.
Embrace then and hold fast the promises
Which the oracles of the gods announce to you.

S. S.
—But what does the oracle say?

Dem.
—Why thus it says,
In a figurative language, but withal
Most singularly intelligible and distinct,
Neatly express'd i'faith, concisely and tersely.
“Moreover, when the eagle in his pride,
“With crooked talons and a leathern hide,
“Shall seize the black and blood-devouring snake;
“Then shall the woeful tanpits quail and quake;
“And mighty Jove shall give command and place,
“To mortals of the sausage-selling race;
“Unless they chuse, continuing as before,
“To sell their sausages for evermore.”

S. S.
—But how does this concern me?—Explain it, will ye?

Dem.
—The leathern eagle is the Paphlagonian.

S. S.
—What are his talons?


19

Dem.
—That explains itself—
Talons for peculation and rapacity.

S. S.
—But what's the snake?

Dem.
—The snake is clear and obvious:
The snake is long and black, like a black-pudding;
The snake is fill'd with blood, like a black-pudding.
Our oracle foretells then, that the snake
Shall baffle and overpower the leathern eagle.

S. S.
—These oracles hit my fancy! Notwithstanding. ...
I'm partly doubtful, how I could contrive. ...
To manage an administration altogether. ...

Dem.
—The easiest thing in nature!—nothing easier!
Stick to your present practice: follow it up
In your new calling. Mangle, mince and mash,
Confound and hack, and jumble things together!
And interlard your rhetoric, with lumps
Of mawkish sweet, and greasy flattery.
Be fulsome, coarse, and bloody!—For the rest,
All qualities combine, all circumstances,
To entitle and equip you for command;
A filthy voice, a villainous countenance,
A vulgar birth, and parentage, and breeding.
Nothing is wanting absolutely nothing.
And the oracles and responses of the gods,
And prophecies, all conspire in your behalf.
—Place then this chaplet on your brows!—and worship
The anarchic powers; and rouse your spirits up
To encounter him.—

S. S.
—But who do ye think will help me?
For all our wealthier people are alarm'd,
And terrified at him; and the meaner sort

20

In a manner stupified, grown dull and dumb.

Dem.
—Why there's a thousand lusty cavaliers,
Ready to back you, that detest and scorn him;
And every worthy well-born citizen;
And every candid critical spectator;
And I myself; and the help of Heaven to boot;
—And never fear; his face will not be seen,
For all the manufacturers of masks,
From cowardice, refus'd to model it.
It matters not; his person will be known:
Our audience is a shrewd one—they can guess—

Nicias.
—[in alarm from behind the scenes.]
Oh dear! Oh dear! the Paphlagonian's coming.

Enter Cleon with a furious look and voice.
Cleon.
—By Heaven and Earth! you shall abide it dearly,
With your conspiracies and daily plots
Against the sovereign people! Hah! what's this?
—What's this Chalcidian goblet doing here?
—Are ye tempting the Chalcidian's to revolt?

The Chalcidians did in fact revolt in the following year; their intentions were probably suspected at the time.


—Dogs! villains! every soul of ye shall die.

[The Sausage-seller runs off in a fright.
Dem.
—Where are ye going?—Where are ye running?—Stop!
Stand firm my noble valiant sausage-seller!
Never betray the cause. Your friends are nigh.
[to the Chorus.]
Cavaliers and noble captains! now's the time! advance in sight!
March in order—make the movement, and out-flank him on the right!
[to the Sausage-seller.]
There I see them bustling, hasting!—only turn and make a stand,
Stop but only for a moment, your allies are hard at hand.


21

[_]

It is necessary to repair an omission which the reader may have already noticed: among the Dramatis Personæ enumerated in page iv, no mention has been made of the chorus, from which as usual, the comedy derived its title—THE KNIGHTS. This body composing the middle order of the state were, as it appears, decidedly hostile to Cleon.—In the first lines of the preceding play, the merit of having procured his conviction and punishment on a charge of bribery is ascribed to them; and again in the same play, the Chorus express their detestation of the Demagogue by threatening to sacrifice him to the vengeance of the Knights,

(See Ach. p. 19, v. 28, 29.)

and we have just seen that Demosthenes encourages the Sausage-seller by promising him the assistance of a thousand of them “lusty cavaliers,” who “scorn and detest” his antagonist.

[During the last lines the chorus of cavaliers with their hobby-horses have entered and occupied their position in the orchestra. They begin their attack upon Cleon.]
Ch.
—Close around him, and confound him, the confounder of us all.
Pelt him, pummel him and mawl him; rummage, ransack, overhaul him,
Overbear him and out-bawl him; bear him down and bring him under.
Bellow like a burst of thunder, robber! harpy! sink of plunder!
Rogue and villain! rogue and cheat! rogue and villain I repeat!
Oftener than I can repeat it, has the rogue and villain cheated.
Close around him left and right; spit upon him; spurn and smite:
Spit upon him as you see; spurn and spit at him like me.
—But beware or he'll evade ye, for he knows the private track,
Where Eucrates

See note to p. 14.—He was also an owner of mills, as appears by the scholiast.

was seen escaping with the mill dust on his back.


Cleon.
—Worthy veterans of the jury, you that either right or wrong,
With my three-penny provision,

The Juryman's fee, a means of subsistence to poor old men driven from their homes by the war.

I've maintain'd and cherish'd long,

Come to my aid! I'm here waylaid—assassinated and betray'd!

Chorus.
—Rightly serv'd! we serve you rightly, for your hungry love of pelf,
For your gross and greedy rapine, gormandizing by yourself;
You that ere the figs are gather'd, pilfer with a privy twitch
Fat delinquents and defaulters, pulpy, luscious, plump and rich;

22

Pinching, fingering and pulling—tampering, selecting, culling,
With a nice survey discerning, which are green and which are turning,
Which are ripe for accusation, forfeiture and confiscation.
Him besides, the wealthy man, retir'd upon an easy rent,
Hating and avoiding party, noble minded, indolent,
Fearful of official snares, intrigues and intricate affairs;
Him you mark; you fix and hook him, whilst he's gaping unawares;
At a fling, at once you bring him hither from the Chersonese,

Of Thrace. Many Athenians possessed estates, and resided there for a quiet life.


Down you cast him, roast and baste him, and devour him at your ease.

Cleon.
—Yes! assault, insult, abuse me! this is the return I find,
For the noble testimony, the memorial I design'd:
Meaning to propose proposals, for a monument of stone,
On the which, your late achievements,

In the expedition to Corinth.

should be carv'd and neatly done.


Chorus.
—Out, away with him! the slave! the pompous empty fawning knave!
Does he think with idle speeches to delude and cheat us all?
As he does the doting elders, that attend his daily call.

The veterans of the Jury: see note, p. 21.


Pelt him here, and bang him there; and here and there and every where.

Cleon.
—Save me neighbours! O the monsters! O my side, my back my breast!

Chorus.
—What, you're forc'd to call for help? You brutal overbearing pest.

S. S.
—[returning to Cleon.]
I'll astound you with my voice; with my bawling looks and noise.

Chorus.
—If in bawling you surpass him, you'll achieve a victor's crown;
If again you overmatch him, in impudence, the day's our own.

Cleon.
—I denounce this traitor here, for sailing on clandestine trips,
With supplies of tripe and stuffing, to careen the spartan ships.

S. S.
—I denounce then and accuse, him for a greater worse abuse:

23

That he steers his empty paunch, and anchors at the public board;
Running in without a lading, to return completely stor'd!

Chorus.
—Yes! and smuggles out moreover, loaves and luncheons not a few,
More than ever Pericles, in all his pride, presum'd to do.

Cleon.-
[in a thundering tone.]
Dogs and villains you shall die!

S. S.-
[in a louder shriller tone.]
Aye! I can scream ten times as high.

Cleon.-
I'll overbear ye, and out-bawl ye.

S. S.-
But I'll out-scream ye and out-squall ye.

Cleon.-
I'll impeach you, whilst aboard,
Commanding on a foreign station.

S. S.-
I'll have you slic'd, and slash'd, and scor'd.

The threats of each party are in the terms of their respective trades.

Cleon.-
Your lion's skin of reputation,
Shall be flay'd off your back and tann'd.

S. S.-
I'll take those guts of yours in hand.

Cleon.-
Come bring your eyes and mine to meet!
And stare at me without a wink!

S. S.-
Yes! in the market place and street,
I had my birth and breeding too;
And from a boy, to blush or blink,
I scorn the thing as much as you.

Cleon.-
I'll denounce you if you mutter.

S. S.-
I'll douce ye the first word you utter.

Cleon.-
My thefts are open and avow'd;
And I confess them, which you dare not.

S. S.-
But I can take false oaths aloud,
And in the presence of a crowd;
And if they know the fact I care not.

Cleon.-
What! do you venture to invade
My proper calling and my trade?

24

—But I denounce here, on the spot,
The sacrificial tripe you've got;
The tithe it owes was never paid:
It owes a tithe, I say, to Jove;
You've wrong'd and robb'd the pow'rs above.

Chorus.
—Cretic Metre.

See note to Ach. page 15.


Dark and unsearchably profound abyss,
Gulf of unfathomable
Baseness and iniquity!
Miracle of immense,
Intense impudence!
Every court, every hall,
Juries and assemblies, all
Are stunn'd to death, deafen'd all,
Whilst you bawl.
The bench and bar Ring and jar.
Each decree Smells of thee,
Land and sea Stink of thee.
Whilst We
Scorn and hate, execrate, abominate,
Thee the brawler and embroiler, of the nation and the state.
You that on the rocky seat of our assembly raise a din,
Deafening all our ears with uproar, as you rave and howl and grin;
Watching all the while the vessels with revenue sailing in.
Like the tunny-fishers perch'd aloft, to look about and bawl,
When the shoals are seen arriving, ready to secure a hawl.

Cleon.
—I was aware of this affair, and every stitch of it I know,
Where the plot was cobbled up and patch'd together, long ago.

S. S.
—Cobbling is your own profession, tripe and sausages are mine:

25

But the country folks complain, that in a fraudulent design,
You retail'd them skins of treaties, that appear'd like trusty leather,
Of a peace secure and lasting; but the wear-and-tear and weather
Prov'd it all decay'd and rotten, only fit for sale and show.

Dem.
—Yes! a pretty trick he serv'd me; there was I dispatch'd to go,
Trudg'd away to Pergasæ, but found upon arriving there,
That myself and my commission, both were out at heels and bare.

[_]

In a review of Mr Mitchell's Aristophanes, a passage in his translation of one of the choruses is noted with particular commendation. It is said,—“Mr Mitchell has hit upon the very key-note of Aristophanes, whose choruses are so contrived throughout this play, as to afford a relief and contrast to the vulgar acrimony of the dialogue; not in their logical and grammatical sense, but in their form and rhythm, and in the selection of the words, which if heard imperfectly, would appear to belong to a grave or tender or beautiful subject.” If the occasion had admitted of it, this observation might have been applied more particularly to the first lines of each chorus; for we may remark instances in which the contrast of grave or graceful lines at the commencement, was intended to give additional force to the vehemence of invective immediately following in the chorus itself. Thus, in the original of the chorus which is given above, an expression of wonder and awe

O altitudo!!

is conveyed to the ear by the mere rhythm of the first line, independent of, and in fact contradictory to the sense of the words themselves, a kind of contrast which appeared unattainable in the English language.—What could not therefore be accomplished by “form and rhythm” has in this instance been attempted by “the selection of words.”—But justificatory criticism has already been renounced, as absurd and tiresome.—This note had been begun, solely for the purpose of bringing under the notice of the reader, with due modification, the observation, somewhat too largely expressed, in the review abovementioned.

Chorus.
Even in your tender years,
And your early disposition,
You betray'd an inward sense

26

Of the conscious impudence,
Which constitutes a politician.
Hence you squeeze and drain alone the rich milch kine of our allies;
Whilst the son of Hippodamus licks his lips with longing eyes.
But now, with eager rapture we behold
A mighty miscreant of baser mold!
A more consummate ruffian!
An energetic ardent ragamuffin!
Behold him there!—He stands before your eyes,
To bear you down, with a superior frown
A fiercer stare,
And more incessant and exhaustless lies.

[_]

The metre of the lines which follow, namely, the tetrameter-iambic, is so essentially base and vulgar, that no English song afforded a specimen fit to be quoted, and the songs themselves were not proper to be mentioned; at last, Mr Cornewall Lewis, (whose kind importunities had extorted the publication of the preceding play of the Acharnians) suggested as a produceable specimen, the first line of a sufficiently vulgar, but otherwise inoffensive song,

“A Captain bold of Halifax, who liv'd in country quarters.”

It would not be right that Mr Lewis's name should be mentioned here, without an acknowledgement of the obligations due to him, for his friendly zeal in forwarding that play through the press, and correcting some inaccuracies incidental to the work of a very unsystematic scholar.

The metre, of which so derogatory a character has been given, is always appropriated in the comedies of Aristophanes, to those scenes of argumentative altercation, in which the ascendancy is given to the more ignoble character; in this respect it stands in decided contrast with the anapœstic measure.

Iambic Tetrameter.
Chorus.
—[to the Sausage-seller.]
Now then do you, that boast a birth, from whence you might inherit,
And from your breeding have deriv'd a manhood and a spirit,

27

Unbroken by the rules of art, untam'd by education,
Shew forth the native impudence and vigor of the nation!

S. S.
—Well; if you like then, I'll describe the nature of him clearly,
The kind of rogue I've known him for.

Cleon.
—My friend you're somewhat early.
First give me leave to speak.

S. S.
—I wont, by Jove! Aye. You may bellow!
I'll make you know, before I go, that I'm the baser fellow.

Chorus.
—Aye! stand to that! Stick to the point; and for a further glory,
Say that your family were base, time out mind before ye.

Cleon.
—Let me speak first!

S. S.
—I won't.

Cleon.
—You shall by Jove!

S. S.
—I won't by Jove though!

Cleon.
—By Jupiter, I shall burst with rage!

S. S.
—No matter I'll prevent you.

Chorus.
—No; don't prevent for Heaven's sake! Don't hinder him from bursting.

Cleon.
—What means,—what ground of hope have you?—to dare to speak against me?

S. S.
—What! I can speak! and I can chop—garlic and lard and logic.

Cleon.
—Aye! You're a speaker I suppose! I should enjoy to see you,
Like a pert scullion set to cook—to see your talents fairly
Put to the test, with hot blood-raw disjointed news arriving,

When the character of the debate is suddenly changed, by the receipt of unexpected intelligence.


Obliged, to hash and season it, and dish it in an instant.
You're like the rest of 'em—the swarm of paltry weak pretenders.
You've made your pretty speech perhaps, and gain'd a little lawsuit
Against a merchant foreigner, by dint of water-drinking,
And lying long awake o'nights, composing and repeating,
And studying as you walk'd the streets, and wearing out the patience
Of all your friends and intimates, with practising beforehand:

28

And now you wonder at yourself, elated and delighted
At your own talent for debate—you silly saucy coxcomb.

S. S.
—What's your own diet? How do you contrive to keep the city
Passive and hush'd—What kind of drink drives ye to that presumption?

Cleon.
—Why mention any man besides, that's capable to match me;
That after a sound hearty meal of tunny fish and cutlets,
Can quaff my gallon; and at once without premeditation,
With slang and jabber overpower the generals at Pylos.

See Mitford, ch. xv, sect. 10, p. 293.



S. S.
—But I can eat my paunch of pork, my liver and my haslets,
And scoop the sauce with both my hands; and with my dirty fingers
I'll seize old Nicias by the throat, and choke the grand debaters.

Chorus.
—We like your scheme in some respects; but still that style of feeding,
Keeping the sauce all to yourself, appears a gross proceeding.

Cleon
—But I can domineer and dine on mullets at Miletus.

S. S.
—And I can eat my shins of beef, and farm the mines of silver.

Cleon.
—I'll burst into the Council House, and storm and blow and bluster.

S. S.
—I'll blow the wind into your tail, and kick you like a bladder.

Cleon.
—I'll tie you neck and heels at once, and kick ye to the kennel.

Chorus.
—Begin with us then! Try your skill!—kicking us all together.

Cleon.
—I'll have ye pilloried in a trice.

S. S.
—I'll have you tried for cowardice.

Cleon.
—I'll tan your hide to cover seats.

S. S.-
Yours shall be made a purse for cheats.
The luckiest skin

It is well known, that purses made from the skins of different animals are more or less lucky.—Among ourselves the skin of a weazle, or of a black cat, is esteemed the most universally lucky.

that could be found.


Cleon.
—Dog I'll pin you to the ground
With ten thousand tenter hooks.

S. S.-
I'll equip you for the cooks,
Neatly prepar'd, with skewers and lard,


29

Cleon.
—I'll pluck your eye-brows off, I will.

S. S.-
I'll cut your collops out, I will.

[_]

It is evident, that a scuffle or wrestling match takes place here between the two rivals. It continues during the verses of Demosthenes and those of the Chorus; the last of which mark, that the Sausage-seller has the advantage; and the Sausage-seller's speech of four lines, which follows, implies that he is at the same time exhibiting his adversary in a helpless posture.

It is to be observed, that the palæstra was not a mere school of wrestling or boxing.— The attention of the masters of the palæstra (like the dancing masters of former times in France and England) was directed to form their pupils to a general dignity and elegance of carriage.

Hence all awkward or indecent effort was disallowed in the palæstra of the better educated class.—But, as wrestling was an universal national exercise, it would of course be practised vulgarly among the vulgar; and there would be many tricks and casts retained and practised by the lowest class, which were rejected by the more dignified palæstra. The Sausage-seller was represented as foiling his opponent, by some unbecoming, unsightly effort, which was characteristic of a town blackguard. —Thus, the scuffle between them formed a kind of dumb show, analogous to, and illustrative of the dialogue; exhibiting in the triumph of the Sausage-seller, the peculiar advantages reserved for superior impudence and vulgarity both in word and deed.

Demosthenes.
Yes by Jove! and like a swine,
Dangling at the butcher's door,
Dress him cleanly, neat and fine,
Wash'd and scalded o'er and o'er;
Strutting out in all his pride,
With his carcase open wide,
And a skewer in either side;
While the cook, with keen intent,
By the steady rules of art,
Scrutinizes every part,
The tongue, the throat, the maw, the vent.


30

Chorus.
Some element may prove more fierce than fire!
Some viler scoundrel may be seen,
Than ever yet has been!
And many a speech hereafter, many a word,
More villainous, than ever yet was heard.
We marvel at thy prowess and admire!
Therefore proceed!
In word and deed,
Be firm and bold,
Keep stedfast hold!
Only keep your hold upon him! Persevere as you began;
He'll be daunted and subdued; I know the nature of the man.

S. S.
—Such as here you now behold him, all his life has he been known.
Till he reap'd a reputation, in a harvest not his own;
Now he shews the sheaves

The Spartan prisoners taken at Pylos, and kept in the most severe confinement.

at home, that he clandestinely convey'd,

Tied and bound and heap'd together, till his bargain can be made.

Cleon.
—[released and recovering himself.]
I'm at ease, I need not fear ye, with the senate on my side,
And the commons all dejected, humble, poor and stupified.

Chorus.
Mark his visage! and behold,
How brazen unabash'd and bold!
How the colour keeps its place
In his face!

Cleon.
—Let me be the vilest thing, the mattrass that Cratinus

The famous comic poet, now grown old; and infirm, as it appears!

stains;

Or be forc'd to learn to sing, Morsimus's

Ridiculed elsewhere as a bad writer of tragedy. See the Peace, v. 803.

tragic strains;

If I don't despise and loath, scorn and execrate ye both.


31

Chorus.
Active eager airy thing!
Ever hovering on the wing,
Ever hovering and discovering
Golden sweet secreted honey,
Nature's mintage and her money.
—May thy maw be purg'd and scour'd,
From the gobbets it devour'd;
By the emetic drench of law!
With the cheerful ancient saw,
Then we shall rejoice and sing,
Chaunting out with hearty glee,
“Fill a bumper merrily,
“For the merry news I bring!”
But he, the shrewd and venerable
Manciple

The old butler and steward of the Prytaneum, who had hitherto been used to well-bred company and civil treatment, would be overjoyed at his deliverance from such a guest as Cleon.

of the public table,

Will chaunt and chuckle and rejoice,
With heart and voice.

Cleon.
—May I never eat a slice, at any public sacrifice,
If your effrontery and pretence, shall daunt my stedfast impudence.

S. S.
—Then, by the memory which I value, of all the bastings in our alley,
When from the dog butcher's tray I stole the lumps of meat away.
I trust to match you with a feat, and do credit to my meat,
Credit to my meat and feeding, and my bringing up and breeding.

Cleon.
—Dog's meat! What a dog art thou!—But I shall dog thee fast enow.

[Cleon pays no attention to the short dialogue which follows between the Sausage-seller and the Chorus.—The actor's part was in dumb show, exhibiting a mimicry of the Demagogue's usual gesture and deportment, when exciting himself in preparation for a vehement burst of oratory.]

32

S. S.
—Then, there were other petty tricks, I practis'd as a child;
Haunting about the butcher's shops, the weather being mild.
“See boys” says I, “the swallow there!—Why summer's come I say,”
And when they turn'd to gape and stare, I snatch'd a steak away.

Chorus.
—A clever lad you must have been, you manag'd matters rarely,
To steal at such an early day, so seasonably and fairly.

S. S.
—But if by chance they spied it, I contriv'd to hide it handily;
Clapping it in between my hams, tight and close and even;
Calling on all the pow'rs above, and all the gods in heaven;
And there I stood, and made it good, with staring and forswearing.
So that a statesman of the time, a speaker shrew'd and witty,
Was heard to say “That boy one day will surely rule the city.”

Chorus.
—'Twas fairly guess'd, by the true test, by your address and daring,
First in stealing, then concealing, and again in swearing.

Cleon.
—I'll settle ye! Yes both of ye! the storm of elocution
Is rising here within my breast, to drive you to confusion,
And with a wild commotion, overwhelm the land and ocean.

S. S.
—Then I shall hand my sausages, and reef 'em close and tight,
And steer away before the wind, and run you out of sight.

Dem.
—And I shall go, to the hold below, to see that all is right.

[Exit.
Cleon.-
By the holy goddess I declare
Rogue and robber as you are,
I'll not brook it, or overlook it;
The public treasure that you stole,
I'll force you to refund the whole.....

Chorus.
—(Keep near and by—the gale grows high.)

Cleon.-
[in continuation]
...Ten talents, I could prove it here,
Were sent to you from Potidea.

S. S.-
Well, will you take a single one

33

To stop your bawling and have done?

Chorus.
Yes I'll be bound—he'll compound,
And take a share—the wind grows fair.
This hurricane will overblow,
Fill the sails and let her go!

Cleon.-
I'll indict ye, I'll impeach,
I'll denounce ye in a speech;
With four several accusations,
For your former peculations,
Of a hundred talents each.

S. S.-
But I'll denounce ye,
And I'll trounce ye,
With accusations half a score;
Half a score, for having left
Your rank in the army; and for theft
I'll charge ye with a thousand more.

Cleon.-
I'll rummage out your pedigree,
And prove that all your ancestry
Were sacrilegious and accurst.

Many of the first families were involved in the guilt of a sacrilegious massacre committed near 200 years before. See Mr Clinton's Fasti. Olym. 40.



S. S.-
I'll prove the same of yours; and first
The foulest treasons and the worst—
Their deep contrivance to conceal
Plots against the common weal;
Which I shall publish and declare,—
Publish, and depose, and swear.

Cleon.-
Plots, conceal'd and hidden!—Where?

S. S.-
Where?—Where plots have always tried
To hide themselves—beneath a hide!

Cleon.-
Go for a paltry vulgar slave.

S. S.-
Get out for a designing knave.

Chorus.
—Give him back the cuff you got!


34

Cleon.-
Murder! help! a plot! a plot!
I'm assaulted and beset!

Chorus.
—Strike him harder! harder yet!
Pelt him,—Rap him,
Slash him,—Slap him,
Across the chops there, with a wipe
Of your entrails and your tripe!

A slap on the face of this kind, is proverbial in Spain, as the most outrageous of all insults.


Keep him down—the day's your own.
O cleverest of human kind! the stoutest and the boldest,
The saviour of the state, and us, the friends that thou beholdest;
No words can speak our gratitude; all praise appears too little.
You've fairly done the rascal up, you've nick'd him to a tittle.

Cleon.
—By the holy goddess it's not new to me
This scheme of yours. I've known the job long since,
The measurement and the scantling of it all,
And where it was shap'd out and tack'd together.

Chorus.
—Aye! There it is!—You must exert yourself;

In these passages, the poet marks the degradation of public oratory, infected with vulgar jargon and low metaphors.


Come try to match him again with a carpenter's phrase.

S. S.
—Does he think I have not track'd him in his intrigues
At Argos?—his pretence to make a treaty
With the people there?—and all his private parley
With the Spartans?—There he works and blows the coals;
And has plenty of other irons in the fire.

Chorus.
—Well done, the blacksmith beats the carpenter.

In these passages, the poet marks the degradation of public oratory, infected with vulgar jargon and low metaphors.



S. S.
—[in continuation]
And the envoys that come here, are all in a tale;
All beating time to the same tune.—I tell ye,—
Its neither gold nor silver, nor the promises,
Nor the messages you send me by your friends,
That will ever serve your turn; or hinder me
From bringing all these facts before the public.


35

Cleon.
—Then I'll set off this instant to the senate;
To inform them of your conspiracies and treasons,
Your secret nightly assemblies and cabals,
Your private treaty with the king of Persia,
Your correspondence with Bœotia,
And the business that you keep there in the cheese-press,
Close pack'd you think, and ripening out of sight.

S. S.
—Ah! cheese?—Is cheese any cheaper there, d'ye hear?

Cleon.
—By Hercules! I'll have ye crucified!
[Exit Cleon.

Chorus
to the S. S.—
Well how do you feel your heart and spirits now?
Rouse up your powers! If ever in your youth
You swindled and foreswore as you profess;
The time is come to shew it.—Now this instant
He's hurrying headlong to the senate house;
To tumble amongst them like a thunderbolt;
To accuse us all, to rage, and storm, and rave.

S. S.
—Well I'll be off then. But these guts and pudding,
I must put them by the while, and the chopping knife.

Chorus.
—Here take this lump of lard, to 'noint your neck with;
The grease will give him the less hold upon you,
With the gripe of his accusations.

S. S.
—That's well thought of.

Chorus.
—And here's the garlic. Swallow it down!

S. S.
—What for?

Chorus.
—It will prime you up,

Game cocks are dieted with garlic, see Acharnians, p. 13, Theorus's warning to Dicæopolis, where a similar note should have been given.

and make you fight the better.

—Make haste!

S. S.
—Why so I do.

Chorus.
—Remember now—
Shew blood and game. Drive at him and denounce him!

36

Dash at his comb, his coxcomb, cuff it soundly!
Peck, scratch, and tear, conculcate, clapperclaw!
Bite both his wattles off, and gobble 'em up!
And then return in glory to your friends.

[Exit S. S.
Chorus.
Well may you speed
In word and deed.
May all the powers of the market place
Grant ye protection, and help, and grace,
With strength of lungs and front and brain;
With a crown of renown, to return again.
[turning to the audience.]
But you that have heard and applauded us here,
In every style and in every way,
Grant us an ear, and attend for a while,
To the usual old anapæstic essay.

[_]

The following parabasis has been already noticed (p. 35 of the Acharnians) in the long preliminary notice prefixed to the parabasis of that play; but the inference which is there so concisely assumed in the marginal note, will be better and more conveniently estimated, when placed in juxtaposition with the composition itself. —It has been said, in brief and strong terms, that the poet had become the poetical serf of the community.—Our knowledge of antiquity is too scanty, to enable us to define precisely the mode and degree of this vassalage, to which he thus voluntarily subjected himself; but it is evident, that by demanding (as the text has it) a chorus for himself, he was in effect doing that which is expressed in the translation, namely, embracing a profession, from which he could not retreat.—The whole tenor of the following parabasis turns upon the decisive and irretrievable step, which the poet (after long hesitation, and resisting the importunity of his friends) had at length determined to take, undeterred by the discouraging


37

example of his predecessors in the same line, whom he enumerates and describes, devoting himself irrevocably and exclusively to the composition of comedy.

Yet the poet was already publicly known as the author of three comedies; the Daitaleis, in which he had exhibited the contrast of two young men, brothers: the one, steady and manly, according to the old fashion instructed in the old music and poetry, addicted to gymnastic exercises, living with his father in the country, a lover of hunting and rural sports; the other a thoroughly depraved town rake—a scamp of that new school, of which Alcibiades was the patron and the model; aspiring to distinguish himself by foppery, litigation, and speechifying.—That excellent comedy of Gresset's, Le Méchant, may be considered as somewhat analogous to this,— produced with the same intention, and in a state of society and manners not altogether dissimilar.

His second play, the Babylonians, has been already mentioned (see Ach. p. 34); of this he was avowedly the author, and had been held responsible for it, as we have already seen.

The Acharnians, his third play, is generally speaking a comic pleading in favor of peace; but it includes a justification of the poet as the author of the preceding play, (distinctly and palpably in the parabasis, and in a burlesque form in other parts); for Dicæopolis in his defence before the Chorus is the representative of the poet himself; and that portion of the Chorus, which continues inveterate and unappeased, bring an accusation against him, which has no reference to any thing which has occurred in the preceding scenes of the same play; but which is distinctly applicable to the main purport and argument of the Babylonians

It is noticed as having contained attacks upon a great number of persons.

—(see Ach. p. 31.)

—“inveighing against informers.”

The original, more scrupulously translated, would stand thus “abusing any man that happened to be an informer,” an offence, of which the Dicæopolis of the Acharnians (for the informer Nicarchus has not yet appeared) had been, up to this point at least, entirely guiltless. Dicæopolis then, in this instance, is a burlesque representative of the poet himself, put upon his trial for misdemeanours perpetrated in a former play. His adversaries attack him, for having stigmatized individuals as informers. The party who are become favorable to him, justify him, by affirming the truth and correctness of all his imputations.—The reply to this is, that though they might be true, he had no right to give publicity to scandalous and offensive truths; and that he deserves to be punished for it.—There is nothing in this altercation, which can in any way be made to bear the slightest reference to anything that had occurred in the preceding scenes of the play itself.

We have made a wide digression in our way to a very unsatisfactory conclusion.—It may be said: we see very clearly, from what has been already stated, that Aristophanes was already an avowed writer for the comic theatre; regarded as responsible for his productions, when they were deemed objectionable; justifying then himself


38

in person in the first instance, and afterwards under a feigned character, in a subsequent drama.—What then was the change in his condition and prospects which was produced by “demanding a chorus for himself? a term as it appears of great import; implying a devotion of himself exclusively, to the task of writing for the stage.—What were the emoluments and privileges attached to this profession of a comic author, thus authentically assumed?—What on the other hand were the disadvantages and disabilities, by which those privileges and emoluments were counter-balanced? —This is a question, of which the learning and industry of continental scholars may perhaps procure a solution; if they have not already afforded it, to those who are conversant in the language and literature of Germany. But something in the meanwhile may be deduced from the testimony of the poet himself. It appears from the scene of Euripides in the Acharnians, that the author must have been entitled to the dresses of the actors; and his perquisites probably extended to the other properties (as they are called) of the stage: with the exception of those which were permanent and immoveable. We find the poet thus speaking of himself in the parabasis of the Peace, contrasting his own conduct with that of other contemporary comic authors—he says (v. 763)

“On former occasions he never made use
“Of the credit he gain'd, to corrupt and seduce;
But pack'd up his alls, after gaining the day,
“Contented and joyous and so went away.

We find moreover, that the comic poets received a salary from the state; for in the play of the Frogs, exhibited almost at the close of the war, at a time of great pecuniary difficulty, it seems, that their pay was reduced.—And the poet introduces his Chorus of happy spirits in the Elysian fields, excommunicating the economists—in company with other reprobates and profane persons who are warned to withdraw from the sacred rites:—they include, in their interdict,

“All statesmen retrenching the fees and the salaries
“Of theatrical bards in revenge for the raileries
“And jests and lampoons of this holy solemnity.”

This appears evidently not to have been serious; or if serious, would have been very unreasonable; for the retrenchment at that period was universal, extending even to the omnipotent jurymen, who were reduced from a daily pay of three oboli, to two. Whatever the retrenchment may have been, it seems, as is suggested above, not to have been one, which was seriously complained of; and we may safely infer, from the general munificence of the Athenians in all matters of art, and from their peculiar passion for the theatre, that in better and more prosperous times the allowances made to the comic poets must have been sufficiently liberal; at least to the three


39

successful competitors; for there were three dramatic prizes, assigned to the first, second, and third best play; a circumstance, which of itself implies a considerable pecuniary recompence; for the third, the least of all, must have been worth having in a pecuniary view; otherwise, to be ranked as a third rate poet would have been felt as an unqualified mortification.—Supposing the prizes to have been merely honorary, no third prize could have existed; for it could never have been considered as an honor.

From the question of emoluments we may turn to that of privileges and immunities: and here, in the absence of positive authority, we may be contented for the present, with general inferences and analogy. According to the notions of heathen antiquity, a professed comic poet would have been considered as a person devoted to the service of Bacchus; a certain character of inviolability must therefore have been attached to him, in common with other persons separated and set apart from the common concerns of the state, and dedicated for life to the service of any other deity.— Though modified no doubt in later times, this principle was essentially inherent in the Grecian mind.—The slaughter of a poet, “a servant of the muses,” was condemned as an act of sacrilege; and it was in these terms, that the assassin of Archilochus was excommunicated by the oracle, and expelled from the temple, which he had presumed to enter. It is not conceivable, that these feelings, however modified, could have been altogether extinct, in the times of which we are now treating; and it is a singular fact, considering the enormous outrages and attacks upon private character, perpetrated by the comic poets, that (with the exception of the exploded fable of the death of Eupolis) there is no trace to be met with of any personal vengeance directed against any of them. The comic poets have been spoken of above, as persons separate and set apart from the ordinary concerns of the state; and so they must have been, either by positive law, or by established and authoritative custom; for it is not to be supposed, that to any man standing in all other respects upon an equal footing with his fellow citizens, the privilege should have been allowed, of assailing them with unlimited ribaldry and abuse.—Whatever may be thought of such a privilege in modern times; it was certainly not consonant to the spirit of antiquity, to allow it to be enjoyed by any individual, unaccompanied with corresponding disabilities. The office of a comic poet, during the reign of the Athenian democracy, has not been unaptly compared to that of the court-jester, during the middle ages. They were both of them authorised to take the most extraordinary liberties, in reflections on the sovereign, and the highest persons in the state; but theirs was a situation obviously incompatible with the exercise of any other office or privilege. The parallel may be carried further; for it would appear, from many recorded instances, that of these royal jesters many must have been men, not only of a lively fancy and imagination, but of just feelings and a sound judgment; whose privileged sallies occasionally directed the attention of the sovereign to truths,


40

which could not have been conveyed to him by any other channel. Aristophanes was certainly a most judicious though ineffectual adviser to the multitudinous sovereign, whom it was his office to amuse; and Charles of Burgundy might have lived and died in prosperity, if his counsels had been moderated by the sarcasms of his jester.

But to return to our subject: Thus far, in the absence of direct and positive information, an attempt has been made, by conjecture and inference, to define the new position, in which the poet was placing himself, as a member of the community to which he belonged; whether in this respect he had any reason to repent of his resolution, it would be idle and superfluous to risk any conjecture;—but in regard to his success as an author, the forebodings expressed in the parabasis, appear to have been verified.—Up to this time, while unengaged and at liberty, he had been courted by the public, and indulged with applause and success; for the strong feeling excited in the public by his play of the Babylonians, at first hostile, and gradually (like their representatives the chorus of Acharnians) subsiding into acquiescence and approbation, must have been felt as more than an equivalent to the highest theatrical success. But he was now irrevocably engaged in the service of the public: the first prize, as a kind of premium for enlisting, was awarded to the present play, the first which he exhibited as a regular writer for the stage; but from this time he was destined, like his predecessors, to experience the rigours and caprices of theatrical discipline. His next play was the Clouds, in which, following up the design of the Daitaleis, he had traced to its source that sudden change in morality and manners, of which the outward manifestations had been exhibited in the former play. This play of the Clouds, which he affirms (adjuring Bacchus as the patron deity of theatrical poets) to have been the best that ever was written, was rejected. The play of the Wasps, in which he thus asserted the merit of the Clouds, was acted in the following year, and obtained the first prize. But we find that another mortification had in the meanwhile befallen him, in the diminished zeal and ardor of his friends,—he had been, as the phrase is, “had up” by Cleon before the senate, and subjected to the infliction of a severe invective; during which time, he complains, that his friends and partizans who were in attendance, and upon whose countenance he depended, “had shown themselves indifferent and even amused.”—They imagined no doubt, that being once engaged, he must go on. But he tells them, that he does not mean to compromise himself to the same extent in future; and reminds them of the fable of the vine, which being left unsupported, ceased to produce fruit. (v. 1291.)

“So (the story says) the stake deserted and betray'd the vine.”

Here then we trace a turn in the poet's mind; he became less of a public personage: and though his fancy and wit remained the same, and his principles continued unchanged; and though his courage and spirit occasionally broke forth in public emergencies;


41

yet having adopted the stage as his occupation, he approached more nearly to the common standard of theatrical writers; and he might have made the same complaint, which was uttered by Shakespeare:

“So that almost my nature is subdued
“To what it deals in, like the dyer's hand.”

But the text is already too much clogged with this long interpolation of prose. We will not stop therefore, to lament over the loss of the Daitaleis and the Babylonians, composed at an earlier period, and with an unbroken spirit.

But the money-loving spirit of our age manifests itself even in our literary researches, and we cannot refrain, even with respect to an ancient poet who lived 2300 years ago, from the invariable enquiry—What was he worth?—It may be inferred then, from grounds of presumption too long to be detailed here, that he must have belonged to the class of the knights. Now the knights were rated (according to the modus fixed by Solon) at an amount of 300 bushels of corn. But how rated?—As for the sum total of their income? Or as being that portion of it, which in cases of emergency was exigible for the service of the State?—Those students of antiquity, who are not endowed with the faculty of digesting gross absurdities, are under great obligations to Mr Boeck, for having relieved them from the cruel necessity of being constrained to believe, that a man with £75 a year (taking corn at five shillings a bushel) was bound to keep a war-horse, and to serve in the cavalry at his own expense; or that another with an income of £225 (estimated according to the same permanent standard of value) could have been charged with the expenses of a ship of war—a proposition we conceive, wholly contradictory to the experience of the members of the Yacht Club.—Mr Boeck has shewn, that these sums were the extreme rates of taxation to which the individuals of these classes were subject; a rate which was not always exacted in full; and which we may suppose at the utmost, to have been a double tithe or four shillings in the pound, a rate of taxation, to which in difficult times, our own country was contented to submit.—The elucidation of this point is by far the greatest service which Mr Boeck has rendered to ancient literature, in the whole of his accurate and learned work. To have dissipated these misapprehensions, which, as long they were implicitly adopted, diffused an air of utter incredibility and unreality over the whole system of antiquity, is a result far more important than the development of details hitherto unknown and unexamined.

This discussion, already too long, has been prolonged thus far for the sake of restating Mr Boeck's discovery; which has been unaccountably overlooked, in a recent publication.

With respect to the poet, we may safely conclude, that he was in tolerably easy circumstances; and we find accordingly that he was able to give away some of his plays


42

with their contingent emoluments: among the rest the very play (the Frogs) in which he complained of the new retrenchment, and denounced an anathema against the economists.


Parabasis.
If a veteran author had wished to engage
Our assistance to day, for a speech from the stage;
We scarce should have granted so bold a request;
But this author of ours, as the bravest and best,
Deserves an indulgence denied to the rest.
For the courage and vigor, the scorn and the hate,
With which he encounters the pests of the state;
A thorough-bred seaman intrepid and warm,
Steering outright, in the face of the storm.
But now for the gentle reproaches he bore
On the part of his friends, for refraining before
To embrace the profession, embarking for life
In theatrical storms and poetical strife.
He begs us to state, that for reasons of weight,
He has linger'd so long, and determin'd so late.
For he deem'd the achievements of comedy hard,
The boldest attempt of a desperate bard!
The Muse he perceiv'd was capricious and coy,
Though many were courting her few could enjoy.
And he saw without reason, from season to season,
Your humour would shift, and turn poets adrift,
Requiting old friends with unkindness and treason,
Discarded in scorn as exhausted and worn.
Seeing Magnes's fate, who was reckon'd of late
For the conduct of comedy captain and head;
That so oft on the stage, in the flower of his age,

43

Had defeated the Chorus his rivals had led;
With his sounds of all sort, that were utter'd in sport,
With whims and vagaries unheard of before,
With feathers and wings, and a thousand gay things,
That in frolicsome fancies his Chorus's wore—
—When his humour was spent, did your temper relent,
To requite the delight that he gave you before?
—We beheld him displac'd, and expell'd and disgrac'd,
When his hair and his wit were grown aged and hoar.
Then he saw, for a sample, the dismal example
Of noble Cratinus so splendid and ample,
Full of spirit and blood, and enlarg'd like a flood;
Whose copious current tore down with its torrent,
Oaks, ashes and yew, with the ground where they grew,
And his rivals to boot, wrench'd up by the root;
And his personal foes, who presum'd to oppose,
All drown'd and abolish'd, dispers'd and demolish'd,
And drifted headlóng, with a deluge of song.
And his airs and his tunes, and his songs and lampoons,
Were recited and sung, by the old and the young—
At our feasts and carousals what poet but he?
And “The fair Amphibribe” and “The Sycophant Tree,”
“Masters and masons and builders of verse!”—
Those were the tunes that all tongues could rehearse;
But since in decay, you have cast him away,
Stript of his stops and his musical strings,
Batter'd and shatter'd, a broken old instrument,
Shov'd out of sight among rubbishy things.
His garlands are faded, and what he deems worst,
His tongue and his palate are parching with thirst;
And now you may meet him alone in the street,

44

Wearied and worn, tatter'd and torn,
All decay'd and forlorn, in his person and dress;
Whom his former success should exempt from distress,
With subsistence at large, at the general charge,
And a seat with the great, at the table of state,

The Prytaneum


There to feast every day, and preside at the play
In splendid apparel triumphant and gay.
Seeing Crates the next, always teas'd and perplext,
With your tyrannous temper tormented and vext;
That with taste and good sense, without waste or expense,
From his snug little hoard, provided your board,
With a delicate treat, economic and neat.
Thus hitting or missing, with crowns or with hissing,
Year after year, he pursued his career,
For better or worse, till he finish'd his course.
These precedents held him in long hesitation;
He replied to his friends, with a just observation,
“That a seaman in regular order is bred,
“To the oar, to the helm, and to look out a-head;
“With diligent practice has fix'd in his mind
“The signs of the weather, and changes of wind.
“And when every point of the service is known,
“Undertakes the command of a ship of his own.”
For reasons like these,
If your judgment agrees,
That he did not embark,
Like an ignorant spark,
Or a troublesome lout,
To puzzle and bother, and blunder about,
Give him a shout,
At his first setting out!

45

And all pull away
With a hearty huzza
For success to the play!
Send him away,
Smiling and gay,
Shining and florid,
With his bald forehead!

[_]

The text contains nearly all that is known of two of the three poets here mentioned, Magnes and Crates; the last is recorded, as having become distinguished in the 2nd year of the 82 Olymp. 36 years before the exhibition of the knights: Magnes must have been older. Of Cratinus some few fragments are still in existence: he lived to vindicate himself from the offensive commiseration here bestowed upon him; by gaining the first prize in the next year, when the comedy of the Clouds was rejected.


Strophe.
Neptune lord of land and deep,
Frocastoffm the lofty Sunian steep,
With delight surveying
The fiery-footed steeds,
Frolicking and neighing
As their humour leads—
—And rapid cars contending
Venturous and forward,
Where splendid youths are spending
The money that they borrow'd.
—Thence downward to the Ocean,
And the calmer shew
Of the dolphin's motion
In the depths below;
And the glittering gallies

46

Gallantly that steer,
When the squadron sallies,
With wages in arrear.
List, O list!
Listen and assist,
Thy Chorus here!
Mighty Saturn's son!
The support of Phormion,

A most able and successful naval commander.


In his victories of late;
To the fair Athenian State
More propitious far,
Than all the gods that are,
In the present war.


Epirrema.
Let us praise our famous fathers, let their glory be recorded
On Minerva's mighty mantle consecrated and embroidered.
That with many a naval action and with infantry by land,
Still contending, never ending, strove for empire and command.
When they met the foe, disdaining to compute a poor account
Of the number of their armies, of their muster and amount:
But whene'er at wrestling matches they were worsted in the fray;
Wip'd their shoulders from the dust, denied the fall, and fought away.

47

Then the generals

Tolmides and Myronides, who commanded in the battles here alluded to.

never claim'd precedence, or a separate seat,

Like the present mighty captains; or the public wine or meat.
As for us, the sole pretension suited to our birth and years,
Is with resolute intention, as determin'd volunteers,
To defend our fields and altars, as our fathers did before;
Claiming as a recompence this easy boon, and nothing more:
When our trials with peace are ended, not to view us with malignity;
When we're curried, sleek and pamper'd, prancing in our pride and dignity.


Antistrophe.

It will be seen, that there is a want of correspondence and proportion between the strophe and antistrophe; the first has been enlarged, to give scope for the development of the poetic imagery, tinged with burlesque, which appears in the original. In atonement for this irregularity, the antistrophe, which offered no such temptation, is given as an exact metrical facsimile of the original. In this respect, it may at least have some merit as a curiosity. The only variation consists in a triple, instead of a double, rhime.


Mighty Minerva! thy command
Rules and upholds this happy land;
Attica, fam'd in every part,
With a renown for arms and art,
Noted among the nations.
Victory bring—the bard's delight;
She that in faction or in fight,
Aids us on all occasions.
Goddess list to the song!—Bring her away with thee,
Haste and bring her along!—Here to the play with thee.
Bring fair Victory down for us!
Bring her here with a crown for us!

48

Come with speed, as a friend indeed,
Now or never at our need!


Antepirrema.

It is observable, that the antipirrema is generally in a lower and less serious tone than its preceding epirrema; as if the poet were, or thought it right to appear, apprehensive of having been over earnest in his first address. In the present instance, as the poetical advocate of his party, he had already stated their claims to public confidence and favor; and, in the concluding lines, had deprecated the jealousy and envy to which they were exposed. He now wishes to give a striking instance of their spirit and alacrity in the service of the country; and it is given accordingly, in the most uninvidious manner, in a tone of extravagant burlesque humour.


Let us sing the mighty deeds of our illustrious noble steeds.
They deserve a celebration for their service heretofore,
Charges and attacks, exploits enacted in the days of yore:
These however strike me less, as having been perform'd ashore.
But the wonder was to see them, when they fairly went aboard,
With canteens and bread and onions, victuall'd and completely stored,
Then they fix'd and dipt their oars beginning all to shout and neigh,
Just the same as human creatures, “Pull away boys! Pull away!”
“Bear a hand there Roan and Sorrel! Have a care there Black and Bay!
Then they leapt ashore at Corinth; and the lustier younger sort
Stroll'd about to pick up litter,

The usual licentious excesses of an invading army.

for their solace and disport:

And devour'd the crabs of Corinth, as a substitute for clover.
So that a poetic Crabbe,

The poet Carkinus.

exclaim'd in anguish “All is over!

“What awaits us, mighty Neptune, if we cannot hope to keep
“From pursuit and persecution in the land or in the deep.”


49

[_]

The poet Carkinus (Crab) had produced a tragedy, on the subject of the daughter of a king of Corinth; who merely, from bathing in the sea, had become unconsciously pregnant by Neptune. The lines here quoted from it were a complaint of the impossibility of preserving the honor of illustrious families, from the licentious aggressions of the gods.

Chorus.
[to the Sausage-seller.]
O best of men! thou tightest heartiest fellow!
What a terror and alarm had you created
In the hearts of all your friends by this delay.
But since at length in safety you return,
Say what was the result of your attempt.

S. S.
—The result is; you may call me Nickoboulus;
For I've nick'd the Boule there, the Senate, capitally.

Chorus.
Then may we chaunt amain
In an exulting strain,
With extacy triumphant bold and high,
O Thou!
That not in words alone, or subtle thought,
But more in manly deed,
Hast merited, and to fair achievement brought!
Relate at length and tell
The event as it befell:
So would I gladly pass a weary way;
Nor weary would it seem,
Attending to the theme,
Of all the glories of this happy day.
[In a familiar tone as if clapping him on the shoulder.]

The encouragement which the poet administers, to himself in fact, is not out of place; he is preparing to attack the senate, with the most contemptuous ridicule.

Come my jolly worthy fellow, never fear!

We're all delighted with you—let us hear!


50

S. S.
—Aye Aye—Its well worth hearing I can tell ye:
I follow'd after him to the senate house;
And there was he, storming, and roaring, driving
His thunderbolts about him, bowling down
His biggest words, to crush the cavaliers,
Like stones from a hill top; calling them traitors,
Conspirators—What not? There sat the senate
With their arms folded, and their eyebrows bent,
And their lips pucker'd, with the grave aspèct
Of persons utterly humbugg'd and bamboozled.
Seeing the state of things, I paus'd awhile,
Praying in secret with an under voice.
“Ye influential impudential powers
“Of sauciness and jabber, slang and jaw!
“Ye spirits of the market-place and street,
“Where I was rear'd and bred—befriend me now!
“Grant me a voluble utterance, and a vast
“Unbounded voice, and stedfast impudence!”
Whilst I thus thought and pray'd, on the right hand,
I heard a sound of wind distinctly broken!
I seiz'd the omen at once; and bouncing up,
I burst among the crowd, and bustled through,
And bolted in at the wicket, and bawl'd out:
“News! news! I've brought you news! the best of news!
“Yes Senators, since first the war began;
“There never has been known, till now this morning,
“Such a hawl of pilchards.” Then they smil'd and seem'd
All tranquilliz'd and placid at the prospect
Of pilchards being likely to be cheap.
I then proceeded and proposed a vote
To meet the emergence secretly and suddenly:

51

To seize at once the trays of all the workmen,
And go with them to market to buy pilchards,
Before the price was raised. Immediately
They applauded, and sat gaping altogether,
Attentive and admiring. He perceiv'd it;
And fram'd a motion, suited as he thought
To the temper of the assembly.—“I move,” says he,
“That on occasion of this happy news,
“We should proclaim a general thanksgiving;
“With a festival moreover and a sacrifice
“Of a hundred head of oxen; to the goddess.”
Then seeing he meant to drive me to the wall
With his hundred oxen, I overbid him at once;
And said “two hundred,” and propos'd a vow,
“For a thousand goats to be offer'd to Diana,
“Whenever sprats should fall to forty a penny.
With that the senate smil'd upon me again;
And he grew stupified and lost, and stammering;
And attempting to interrupt the current business,
Was call'd to order, and silenc'd and put down.
Then they were breaking up to buy their pilchards:
But he must needs persist, and beg for a hearing—
“For a single moment,—for a messenger,—
“For a herald that was come from Lacedæmon,
“With an offer of peace—for an audience to be given him.”
But they broke out in an uproar all together:
“Peace truly!—Peace forsooth!—Yes, now's their time;
“I warrant 'em; when pilchards are so plenty.
“They've heard of it; and now they come for peace!
“No! No! No peace! The war must take its course.”
Then they call'd out to the presidents to adjourn;

52

And scrambled over the railing and dispers'd;
And I dash'd down to the market place headlòng;
And bought up all the fennel, and bestow'd it
As donative, for garnish to their pilchards,
Among the poorer class of senators;
And they so thank'd and prais'd me, that in short,
For twenty-pence, I've purchas'd and secur'd them.

Chorus.
With fair event your first essay began,
Betokening a predestin'd happy man.
The villain now shall meet
In equal war,
A more accomplish'd cheat,
A viler far;
With turns and tricks more various,
More artful and nefarious.
—But thou!
Bethink thee now;
Rouse up thy spirit to the next endeavour!
—Our hands and hearts and will,
Both heretofore and ever,
Are with thee still.

S. S.
—The Paphlagonian! Here he's coming, foaming
And swelling like a breaker in the surf!
With his hobgoblin countenance and look;
For all the world as if he'd swallow me up.

Enter Cleon.
Cleon.
—May I perish and rot, but I'll consume and ruin ye;
I'll leave no trick no scheme untried to do it.


53

S. S.
—It makes me laugh, it amuses one, to see him
Bluster and storm!—I whistle and snap my fingers.

Cleon.
—By the powers of earth and heaven! and as I live!
You villain, I'll annihilate and devour ye.

S. S.
—Devour me! and as I live, I'll swallow ye;
And gulp ye down at a mouthful, without salt.

Cleon.
—I swear by the precedence, and the seat
Which I achiev'd at Pylos, I'll destroy ye.

S. S.
—Seat, precedence truly! I hope to see you,
The last amongst us in the lowest place.

Cleon.
—I'll clap you in jail, in the stocks—By Heaven! I will.

S. S.
—To see it how it takes on! Barking and tearing!
What ails the creature? Does it want a sop?

Cleon.
—I'll claw your guts out, with these nails of mine.

S. S.
—I'll pare those nails of yours, from clawing victuals
At the public table.

Cleon.
—I'll drag you to the assembly
This instant, and accuse ye, and have you punish'd.

S. S.
—And I'll bring accusations there against you,
Twenty for one, and worse than yours tenfold.

Cleon.
—Aye—my poor soul! but they won't mind ye or hear ye,
Whilst I can manage 'em and make fools of 'em.

S. S.
—You reckon they belong to ye I suppose?

Cleon.
—Why should not they, if I feed and diet 'em?

S. S.
—Aye, aye, and like the licorish greedy nurses,
You swallow ten for one yourself at least,
For every morsel the poor creatures get.

Cleon.
—Moreover, in doing business in the assembly,
I have such a superior influence and command,
That I can make them close and hard and dry,
Or pass a matter easily, as I please.


54

S. S.
—Moreover, in doing business—my b..de,
Has the same sort of influence and command;
And plays at fast and loose, just as it pleases.

Cleon.
—You sha'n't insult as you did before the senate.
Come, come, before the assembly.

S. S.
—[cooly and dryly]
Aye—yes;—why not?
With all my heart! Let's go there—What should hinder us?

[The scene is supposed to be in front Demus's house.]
Cleon.
—My dear good Demus, do step out a moment!

S. S.
—My dearest little Demus, do step out!

Dem.
—Who's there? Keep off! What a racket are you making;
Bawling and catterwauling about the door;
To affront the house, and scandalize the neighbours.

Cleon.
—Come out, do see yourself, how I'm insulted,

Dem.
—Oh my poor Paphlagonian! What's the matter?
Who has affronted ye?

Cleon.
—I'm waylaid and beaten,
By that rogue there, and the rake-helly young fellows,
All for your sake.

Dem.
—How so?

Cleon.
—Because I love you,
And court you, and wait on you, to win your favour.

Dem.
—And you there Sirrah! tell me what are you?

S. S.

Very rapidly and eagerly.

—A lover of yours, and a rival of his, this long time;

That have wished to oblige ye and serve ye in every way:
And many there are besides, good gentlefolks,
That adore ye, and wish to pay their court to ye;
But he contrives to baffle and drive them off,
In short you're like the silly spendthrift heirs,
That keep away from civil well-bred company,

55

To pass their time with grooms and low companions,
Cobblers, and curriers, tanners and such like.

Cleon.
—And have not I merited that preference,
By my service?

S. S.
—In what way?

Cleon.
—By bringing back
The Spartan captives tied and bound from Pylos.

S. S.
—And would not I bring back from the cook's shop
A mess of meat that belong'd to another man?

Cleon.
—Well Demus, call an assembly then directly,
To decide between us, which is your best friend;
And when you've settled it, fix and keep to him.
[Exit Cleon.

S. S.
—Ah do! pray do decide!—but not in the Pnyx—

Dem.
—It must be there; it can't be any where else;
Its quite impossible: you must go to the Pnyx.

S. S.
—Oh dear! I'm lost and ruin'd then! the old fellow
Is sharp and clever enough in his own home;
But planted with his rump upon that rock,
He grows completely stupified and bother'd.

Chorus.
Now you must get your words and wit, and all your tackle ready,
To make a dash, but don't be rash, be watchful bold and steady.
You've a nimble adversary, shifting, and alert, and wary.
[The scene changes and discovers the Pnyx with Cleon on the Bema, in an orational attitude.]
Look out! have a care! behold him there!
He's bearing upon you—be ready prepare.

56

Out with the Dolphin! Hawl it hard!
Away with it up to the peak of the yard!
And out with the pinnace to serve for a guard.

[_]

Cleon's Exordium appears to be marked in the original by a trait of humour which it is impossible to translate or to represent by an equivalent. The true version is as follows. “I pray to the goddess Minerva, my own patroness, and the protecting deity of the city; that if I stand as a meritorious statesman, in the next rank to Lysicles,

A statesman of very low repute, who had come forward after the death of Pericles, but speedily sunk into discredit. See marginal note p. 14.

Cynna and Salabaccha;

Two eminent prostitutes.

I may be allowed to continue dining in the Prytaneum, &c. &c.

It should seem that the three discreditable names are substituted for those of Pericles Cymon and Themistocles, with whom it appears that Cleon was in the habit of comparing himself; for we shall see that in the present scene he is attacked for having presumed to place himself in parallel with Themistocles.

It is natural therefore to conclude; that with respect to the two other illustrious, but less extraordinary characters, he must have felt still less scrupulous.

The phrase therefore stands as a contemptuous caricature of Cleon's arrogance. He had spoken of himself as the most meritorious public character.

μετα Περικλεα και Κιμωνα και Θεμιστοκλεα

The taunting parody of the Poet says:

μετα Λυσικλεα και Κυνναν και Σαλαβακχαν

We see that the two first names have a similarity in sound to those for which they were substituted: (Pericles, Lysicles—Cymon, Cynna). And we may be sure that


57

an exact mimicry of Cleon's manner, and tone of voice, would not have been wanting, to make the caricature as manifest as possible.

To those who have formed a just estimate of the merits of Aristophanes, this explanation of the passage will not appear unnecessary. It occurs in the most striking part of the play, at the very point to which the attention of the audience had been directed; but surely the most implicit admiration for every thing ancient cannot prevent us from perceiving, that, unexplained as it has been hitherto, it appears vapid and senseless in the extreme. We might safely defy the dullest individual to make a poorer attempt at a joke in his own person.

If on the contrary we suppose the passage in question to have contained a verbal burlesque heightened by personal mimicry, the audience would hardly have felt a deficiency of amusement at this particular point of the representation.

Cleon.
—To Minerva the sovereign goddess I call,
Our guide and defender the hope of us all;
With a prayer and a vow,—That, even as now—
If I'm truly your friend, unto my life's end,
I may dine in the hall, doing nothing at all!
But, if I despise you, or ever advise you,
Against what is best, for your comfort and rest;
Or neglect to attend you, defend you, befriend you,
—May I perish and pine; may this carcase of mine
Be wither'd and dried, and curried beside;
And straps for your harness cut out from the hide.

S. S.
—Then Demus—if I, tell a word of a lie;
If any man more can dote or adore,
With so tender a care, I make it my prayer,
My prayer and my wish,—to be stew'd in a dish;
To be slic'd and slash'd, minc'd and hash'd;
And the offal remains that are left by the cook,
Dragg'd out to the grave, with my own flesh-hook.


58

Cleon.
—O Demus! has any man shown such a zeal,
Such a passion as I for the general weal?
Racking and screwing offenders to ruin;
With torture and threats extorting your debts;
Exhausting all means for enhancing your fortune,
Terror and force and intreaties importune,
With a popular, pure, patriotical aim;
Unmov'd by compassion, or friendship, or shame.

S. S.
—All this I can do; more handily too;
With ease and dispatch; I can pilfer and snatch,
And supply ye with loaves from another man's batch.
But now, to detect his saucy neglect;
(In spite of the boast, of his loyalty due,
Is the boil'd and the roast, to your table and you.)
—You; that in combat at Marathon sped,
And hew'd down your enemies hand over head,
The Mede and the Persian, achieving a treasure
Of infinite honor and profit and pleasure,
Rhetorical praises and tragical phrases;
Of rich panegyric a capital stock—
—He leaves you to rest on a seat of the rock,
Naked and bare, without comfort or care.
Whilst I—Look ye there!—have quilted and wadded,
And tufted and padded this cushion so neat
To serve for your seat! Rise now, let me slip
It there under your hip, that on board of the ship,
With the toil of the oar, was blister'd and sore,
Enduring the burthen and heat of the day,
At the battle of Salamis working away.

Dem.
—Whence was it you came! Oh tell me your name—
Your name and your birth; for your kindness and worth

59

Bespeak you indeed of a patriot breed;
Of the race of Harmodius

The assassin of Hipparchus, canonized by the democratic fanaticism of the Athenians.

sure you must be,

So popular gracious and friendly to me.

Cleon.
—Can he win you with ease, with such trifles as these?

S. S.
—With easier trifles you manage to please.

Cleon.
—I vow notwithstanding, that never a man
Has acted since first the republic began,
On a more patriotical popular plan:
And if any man else can as truly be said
The friend of the people, I'll forfeit my head;
I'll make it a wager, and stand to the pledge.

S. S.
—And what is the token you mean to allege
Of that friendship of yours, or the good it ensures?
—Eight seasons are past that he shelters his head
In a barrack an outhouse, a hovel, a shed,
In nests of the rock where the vultures are bred,
In tubs, and in huts and the tow'rs of the wall:
His friend and protector you witness it all!
But where is thy pity thou friend of the city;
To smoke him alive, to plunder his hive?
And when Archeptolemus

After the surrender of the Spartans at Pylos.

came on a mission,

With peace in his hand, with a fair proposition:
So drive them before you with kicks on the rump,
Peace, treaties and embassies, all in a lump!

Cleon.
—I did wisely and well; for the prophecies tell,
That if he perseveres, for a period of years;
He shall sit in Arcadia, judging away
In splendor and honor, at fivepence a day:
—Meantime I can feed and provide for his need;
Maintaining him wholly, fairly and foully,
With jurymen's pay, three pence a day.


60

S. S.
—No vision or fancy prophetic have you,
Nor dreams of Arcadian empire in view;
A safer concealment is all that you seek:
In the hubbub of war, in the darkness and reek,
To plunder at large; to keep him confin'd,
Passive, astounded, humbled, blind,
Pining in penury, looking to thee,
For his daily provision a juryman's fee.
—But if he returns to his country concerns,
His grapes and his figs, and his furmity kettle,
You'll find him a man of a different mettle.
When he feels that your fees had debarr'd him from these;
He'll trudge up to town, looking eagerly down,
And pick a choice pebble, and keep it in view,
As a token of spite, for a vote against you.—
—Peace sinks you for ever, you feel it and know,
As your shifts and your tricks and your prophecies show.

Cleon.
—'Tis a scandal, a shame! to throw slander and blame
On the friend of the people! a patriot name,
A kinder protector; I venture to say;
Than ever Themistocles was in his day,
Better and kinder in every way.

S. S.
—Witness ye deities! witness his blasphemies!
You to compare with Themistocles! you!
That found us exhausted, and filled us anew

61

With a bumper of opulence; carving and sharing
Rich slices of empire; and kindly preparing,
While his guests were at dinner, a capital supper,
With a dainty remove, both under and upper,
The fort and the harbour, and many a dish
Of colonies, islands, and such kind of fish.
But now we are stunted, our spirit is blunted,
With paltry defences, and walls of partition;
With silly pretences of poor superstition;
And yet you can dare, with him to compare!
But he lost the command, and was banish'd the land,
While you rule over all, and carouse in the hall!

Cleon.
—This is horrible quite, and his slanderous spite,
Has no motive in view but my friendship for you,
My zeal—

Dem.
—There have done with your slang and your stuff,
You've cheated and chous'd and cajol'd me enough.

S. S.
—My dear little Demus! you'll find it is true.
He behaves like a wretch and a villain to you.
He haunts your garden and there he plies,
Cropping the sprouts of the young supplies,
Munching and crunching enormous rations
Of public sales and confiscations.

Cleon.
—Don't exult before your time,
Before you've answer'd for your crime,—
A notable theft that I mean to prove
Of a hundred talents and above.

S. S.
—Why do ye plounce and flounce in vain?
Splashing and dashing and splashing again,
Like a silly recruit, just clapt on board?
Your crimes and acts are on record:

62

The Mitylenian bribe alone
Was forty Minæ prov'd and shown.

Chorus.
O thou, the saviour of the state, with joy and admiration!
We contemplate your happy fate and future exaltation,
Doom'd with the trident in your hand to reign in power and glory,
In full career to domineer, to drive the world before ye;
To raise with ease and calm the seas, and also raise a fortune,
While distant tribes with gifts and bribes, to thee will be resorting.
Keep your advantage, persevere, attack him, work him, bait him,
You'll over-bawl him, never fear, and out-vociferate him.

The metre now passes from the anapæst to the tetrameter iambic. See p. 56 note.

Cleon.
—You'll not advance; you've not a chance, geod people of prevailing;
Recorded facts, my warlike acts, will muzzle you from railing;
As long as there remains a shield, of all the trophy taken
At Pylos, I can keep the field, unterrified unshaken.

S. S.
—Stop there a bit, don't triumph yet,—those shields afford a handle.
For shrewd surmise; and it implies a treasonable scandal;
That there they're plac'd, all strapt and brac'd, ready prepar'd for action;
A plot it is! a scheme of his! a project of the faction!
—Dear Demus, he, most wickedly, with villanous advisement,
Prepares a force, as his resource, against your just chastisement:
—The curriers and the tanners all, with sundry crafts of leather,
Young lusty fellows stout and tall, you see them leagued together;
And there beside them abide, cheesemongers bold and hearty,
Who with the grocers are allied, to join the tanner's party.
—Then if you turn your oyster eye, with ostracising look,
Those his allies, will from the pegs, those very shields unhook:

63

Rushing outright, at dark midnight, with insurrection sudden,
To seize perforce the public stores, with all your meal and pudden.

Dem.
—Well I declare! the straps are there! O what a deep, surprising,
Uncommon rascal! What a plot the wretch has been devising.

Cleon.
—Hear and attend my worthy friend and don't directly credit
A tale for truth, because forsooth—“The man that told me, said it.”
—You'll never see a friend like me; that well or ill rewarded,
Has uniformly done his best, to keep you safely guarded;
Watching and working night and day, with infinite detections
Of treasons and conspiracies, and plots in all directions.

S. S.
—Yes that's your course, your sole resource, the same device for ever.
As country fellows fishing eels, that in the quiet river,
Or the clear lake, have fail'd to take, begin to poke and muddle,
And rouze and rout it all about and work it to a puddle
To catch their game—you do the same in the hubbub and confusion,
Which you create to blind the state, with unobserv'd collusion,
Grasping at ease your bribes and fees. But answer! Tell me whether
You, that pretend yourself his friend, with all your wealth in leather,
Ever supplied a single hide, to mend his reverend batter'd
Old buskins?

Dem.
—No, not he by Jove! Look at them, burst and tatter'd!

S. S.
—That shews the man! now spick and span, behold, my noble largess!
A lovely pair, bought for your wear, at my own cost and charges.

Dem.
—I see your mind is well inclin'd, with views and temper suiting,
To place the state of things and toes, upon a proper footing.

Cleon.
—What an abuse! a pair of shoes to purchase your affection!!
Whilst all my worth is blotted forth, raz'd from your recollection;

64

That was your guide, so prov'd and tried, that show'd myself so zealous,
And so severe this very year, and of your honour jealous,
Noting betimes all filthy crimes, without respect or pity.

S. S.
—He that's inclin'd to filth, may find, enough throughout the city:
—A different view determin'd you; those infamous offenders
Seem'd in your eyes, likely to rise, aspirants and pretenders;
In bold debate, and ready prate, undaunted rhetoricians;
In impudence and influence, your rival politicians.
But there now, see! this winter he might pass without his clothing;
The season's cold, he's chilly and old; but still you think of nothing!
Whilst I to show my love, bestow this waistcoat, as a present
Comely and new, with sleeves thereto, of flannel warm and pleasant.

Dem.
—How strange it is! Themistocles was reckon'd mighty clever!
With all his wit, he could not hit on such a project ever,
Such a device, so warm so nice; in short it equals fairly
His famous wall, the port and all, that he contriv'd so rarely.

Cleon.
—To what a pass you drive me alas! to what a vulgar level!

S. S.
—'Tis your own plan; 'twas you began.—As topers at a revel,
Press'd on a sudden, rise at once, and seize without regarding,
Their neighbours slippers for the nonce, to turn into the garden.
I stand in short upon your shoes—I copy your behaviour,
And take and use, for my own views, your flattery and palaver.

Cleon.
—I shall outvie your flatteries, I!—see here this costly favour!
This mantle! take it for my sake—

Dem.
—Faugh! what a filthy flavour!
Off with it quick! it makes me sick, it stinks of hides and leather.

S. S.
—'Twas by design: If you'll combine and put the facts together,
Like his device of Silphium spice—pretending to bedizen
You with a dress! 'Twas nothing less, than an attempt to poison.
He sunk the price of that same spice, and with the same intention,

65

—You recollect?

Dem.
—I recollect the circumstance you mention.

S. S.
—Then recollect the sad effect!—that instance of the jury
All flush'd and hot, fix'd to the spot, and f**ting in a fury.
To see them was a scene of woe, in that infectious smother,
Winking and blinking in a row, and poisoning one another.

Cleon.
—Varlet and knave! thou dirty slave! what trash

A reprimand which in this, and one or two other instances the translator is tempted to transfer to himself!

have you collected?


S. S.
—'Tis your own cue—I copy you.—So the oracle directed.

Cleon.
—I'll match you still, for I can fill his pintpot of appointment,
For holidays and working days.

Donatives on festival days, when the Courts were closed and the jurymen's pay suspended.



S. S.
—But here's a box of ointment—
A salve prescrib'd for heels when kib'd, given with my humble duty.

Cleon.
—I'll pick your white hairs out of sight, and make you quite a beauty.

S. S.
—But here's a prize, for your dear eyes!—a rabbit-scut! See there now!

Cleon.
—Wipe 'em, and then, wipe it again, Dear Demus on my hair now.

S. S.
—On mine I say!—On mine do pray!

[Demus bestows, in a careless manner, his dirty preference upon the S. S. He pays no attention to the altercation which follows, but remains in the attitude of a solid old juryman, sitting upon a difficult cause concocting the decision which he at last pronounces.]
Cleon.
—I shall fit you with a ship,
To provide for and equip
One that has been long forgotten,
Leaky worm-eaten and rotten,
On it you shall waste and spend
Time and money without end.

66

Furthermore, if I prevail,
It shall have a rotten sail.

Chorus.
—There he's foaming, boiling over:
See the froth above the cover.
This combustion to allay,
We must take some sticks away.

Cleon.
—I shall bring you down to ruin,
With my summoning and suing
For arrear of taxes due,
And charges and assessments new,
In the Census you shall pass
Rated in the richest class.

S. S.
—I reply with nothing worse
Than this just and righteous curse.
—May you stand beside the stove,

It is to be presumed that Cleon is indulging himself in the Prytaneum.


With the fishes that you love,
Fizzling in the tempting pan,
A distracted anxious man;
The Milesian question

The scholiast affords us no light as to the allusion to the Milesian question.

pending,

Which you then should be defending,
With a talent for your hire
If you gain what they desire.—
Then their agent, in a sweat,
Comes to say the assembly's met;
All in haste you snatch and follow,
And in vain attempt to swallow;
Running with your gullet fill'd,
Till we see you choak'd and kill'd.

Chorus.
—So be it: mighty Jove! so be it!
And holy Ceres, may I live to see it!


67

Dem.
[rousing himself gradually from his meditation.]
...In truth and he seems to me, by far the best—
—The worthiest that has been long since—the kindest,
And best dispos'd, to the honest sober class
Of simple humble three-penny citizens.—
—You Paphlagonian on the contrary
Have offended and incens'd me.—Therefore now
Give back your seal of office!—You must be
No more my steward!—

Cleon.
—Take it! and withal
Bear this in mind! That he my successor
—Whoever he may be—will prove a rascal
More artful and nefarious than myself—
A bigger rogue be sure, and baser far!

Dem.
—This seal is none of mine, or my eyes deceive me!
The figure's not the same! I'm sure!

S. S.
—Let's see—
What was the proper emblem upon your seal?

Dem.
—A sirloin of roast beef—

S. S.
—It is not that!

Dem.
—Not the roast beef!—What is it?

S. S.
—A cormorant
Haranguing open mouth'd upon a rock—

The Pnyx, the place of assembly, was called the Rock.



Dem.
—Oh mercy!

S. S.
—What's the matter?

Dem.
—Away with it!
That was Cleonymus's seal not mine—

Cleonymus's emblem is a bird, to mark his cowardice. See Ach. p. 9 last line.—The bird is also one of voracious habits.


But here take this, act with it as my steward.

Cleon.
—Not yet Sir! I beseech you.—First permit me,
To communicate some oracles I possess.

S. S.
—And me too, some of mine.—


68

Cleon.
—Beware of them!
His oracles are most dangerous and infectious!
They strike ye with the leprosy and the jaundice.

S. S.
—And his will give you the itch, and a scald head;
And the glanders and mad-staggers! take my word for it!

Cleon.
—My oracles foretell, that you shall rule
Over all Greece, and wear a crown of roses.

S. S.
—And mine foretell, that you shall wear a robe
With golden spangles, and a crown of gold,
And ride in a golden chariot over Thrace;
In triumph with king Smicythes and his queen.—

Cleon
[to the S. S.]

Cleon affects to give orders which the S. S. retorts.


Well, go for' em! and bring' em! and let him hear' em!

S. S.
—Yes sure—and you too—go fetch yours!

Cleon.
—Heigh day!

S. S.
—Heigh day!—Why should not ye? What should hinder ye?

[Exeunt Cleon and S. S.
[_]

The following Chorus has no merit whatever in the translation; and not much in the original. The first 6 lines are composed on the principle of contrast pointed out in p. 25.

Chorus.
Joyful will it be and pleasant
To the future times and present,
The benignant happy day,
Which will shine on us at last,
Announcing with his genial ray,
That Cleon is condemn'd and cast!
—Notwithstanding we have heard
From the seniors of the city,

There was a portion of the lower class of citizens who conceived that the state had an interest in supporting the tyrannical exactions of Cleon.—See p. 58 first lines.


Jurymen rever'd and fear'd,

69

An opinion deep and pithy:
That the state for household use
Wants a pestle and a mortar;
That Cleon serves to pound and bruise,
Or else our income would run shorter.
—But I was told, the boys at school
Observ'd it as a kind of rule,
That he never could be made
By any means to play the lyre,
Till he was well and truly paid
I mean with lashes for his hire.
At length his master all at once
Expelled him as an utter dunce;
As by nature ill inclin'd,
And wanting gifts of every kind.

Re-enter Cleon and the Sausage-seller—Cleon with a large packet and the Sausage seller staggering under a porter's load.
Cleon
[to Demus]
Well there's a bundle you see, I've brought of 'em;
But that's not all; there's more of them to come—

S. S.
—I grunt and sweat you see, with the load of 'em;
But that's not all; there's more of 'em to come.—

Dem.
—But what are these?—all?

Cleon.
—Oracles.

Dem.
—What all?

Cleon.
—Ah, you're surpris'd it seems, at the quantity!
That's nothing; I've a trunk full of 'em at home.—

S. S.
—And I've a garret and out-house both brim-full.

Dem.
—Let's give 'em a look—Whose oracles are these?

Cleon.
—Bakis's mine are.


70

Dem.
[to the S. S.]
Well, and whose are yours?

S. S.
—Mine are from Glanis, Bakis's elder brother.—

Dem.
—And what are they all about?

Cleon.
—About the Athenians,
About the Island of Pylos,—about myself,—
About yourself,—about all kinds of things.

Dem.
—And what are yours about?

S. S.
—About the Athenians—
About pease-pudding and porridge,—about the Spartans,—
About the war,—about the pilchard fishery,—
About the state of things in general,—
About short weights and measures in the market,—
About all things and persons whatsoever,—
About yourself and me.—Bid him go whistle.

Dem.
—Come read them out then! that one in particular,
My favorite one of all, about the eagle;—
About my being an eagle in the clouds.

Cleon.
—Listen then!—Give your attention to the oracle!
“Son of Erechtheus, mark and ponder well,
“This holy warning from Apollo's cell.
“It bids thee cherish, him the sacred whelp;
“Who for thy sake doth bite and bark and yelp.
“Guard and protect him from the chattering jay;
“So shall thy juries all be kept in pay.”

Dem.
—That's quite above me! Erechtheus and a whelp!
What should Erechtheus do with a whelp or a jay?
What does it mean?

Discussions on the genuine and corrupt copies of oracles were not unfrequent; we find an instance in Thucidides.—See also the scene of the Soothsayer in the Birds.



Cleon.
—The meaning of it is this:
I am presignified as a dog, who barks
And watches for you. Apollo therefore bids you
Cherish the sacred whelp—meaning myself.


71

S. S.
—I tell ye, the oracle means no such thing:
This whelp has gnaw'd the corner off; but here,
I've a true perfect copy.

Dem.
—Read it out then!
Meanwhile I'll pick a stone up for the nonce,
For fear the dog in the oracle should bite me.

S. S.
—“Son of Erechtheus' ware the gap-tooth'd dog,
“The crafty mongrel that purloins thy prog;
“Fawning at meals, and filching scraps away,
“The whilst you gape and stare another way;
“He prowls by night, and pilfers many a prize,
“Amidst the sculleries and the colonies.

Dem.
—Well, Glanis has the best of it, I declare.

Cleon.
—First listen my good friend, and then decide:
“In sacred Athens shall a woman dwell,
“Who shall bring forth a lion fierce and fell;
“This lion shall defeat the gnats and flies,
“Which are that noble nation's enemies.
“Him you must guard and keep for public good,
“With iron bulwarks and a wall of wood.”

Dem.
[to the S. S.]
D'ye understand it?

S. S.
—No not I, by Jove!

Cleon.
—Apollo admonishes you, to guard and keep me;
I am the lion here alluded to.

Dem.
—A lion!! Why just now you were a dog!

S. S.
—Aye, but he stifles the true sense of it,
Designedly—That “wooden and iron wall,”
In which Apollo tells ye he should be kept.

Dem.
—What did the deity mean by it? What d'ye think?

S. S.
—To have him kept in the pillory and the stocks.


72

Dem.
—That prophecy seems likely to be verified.

Cleon.
—“Heed not their strain; for crows and daws abound,
“But love your faithful hawk, victorious found,
“Who brought the Spartan magpies tied and bound.”

S. S.
—“The Paphlagonian impudent and rash
“Risk'd that adventure in a drunken dash.
—“O simple son of Cecrops ill advis'd!
“I see desert in arms unfairly priz'd:
“Men only can secure and kill the game;
“A woman's deed it is to cook the same.”

Cleon.
—Do listen at least to the oracle about Pylos;
“Pylos there is behind, and eke before,

There were three places of this name, not very distant from each other.


“The bloody Pylos.”

Dem.
—Let me hear no more!
Those Pylos's are my torment evermore.

S. S.
—But here's an oracle which you must attend to;
About the navy—a very particular one.

Dem.
—Yes I'll attend—I wish it would tell me, how
To pay my seamen their arrears of wages.

S. S.
—“O son of Egeus, ponder and beware
“Of the dog-fox, so crafty lean and spare,
“Subtle and swift.”—Do ye understand it?

Dem.
—Yes!
Of course the dog-fox

The dog was (in a bad sense) the type of impudence—the fox of cunning—Philostratus the compound of the two gained his subsistence by a very infamous trade.

means Philostratus.—


S. S.
—That's not the meaning—but the Paphlagonian
Is always urging you to send out ships;
Cruizing about exacting contributions;
A thing that Apollo positively forbids.

Dem.
—But why are the ships here called dog-foxes?

S. S.
—Why?
Because the ships are swift, and dogs are swift.


73

Dem.
—But what has a fox to do with it? Why dog-foxes?

S. S.
—The fox is a type of the ship's crew; marauding
And eating up the vineyards.

Dem.
—Well, so be it!
But how are my foxes to get paid their wages?

S. S.
—I'll settle it all, and make provision for them,
Three days provision, presently. Only now,
This instant, let me remind you of an oracle:
“Beware Cullene.”

Dem.
—What's the meaning of it?

S. S.
—Cullene, in the sense I understand,
Implies a kind of a culling asking hand—
The coiled hand of an informing bully,
Culling a bribe from his affrighted cully,

The Scholiast tells us that the common informer at Athens, when accosting and threatening persons for the purpose of extortion, had an established token (the hand hollowed and slipt out beneath the cloak) indicating that they were willing to desist for a piece of money.


A hand like his.

Cleon.
—No, No! you're quite mistaken,
It alludes to Diopithes's lame hand.

As a soothsayer he ought to have been free from any bodily defect.


“But here's a glorious prophecy which sings,
“How you shall rule on earth, and rank with kings,
“And soar aloft in air on eagle's wings.

S. S.
—“And some of mine foretell that you shall be,
“Sovereign of all the world and the Red Sea;
“And sit on juries in Ecbatana,
“Munching sweet buns and biscuit all the day.

Cleon.
—“But me Minerva loves, and I can tell
“Of a portentous vision that befell—
“The goddess in my sleep appear'd to me,
“Holding a flagon, as it seem'd to be,
“From which she pour'd upon the old man's crown
“Wealth, health and peace, like ointment running down.

S. S.
—“And I too dreamt a dream, and it was this:

74

“—Minerva came from the Acropolis,
“There came likewise, her serpent and her owl;
“And in her hand she held a certain bowl;
“And pour'd ambrosia on the old man's head,
“And salt-fish pickle upon yours instead.—

Dem.
—Well Glanis is the cleverest after all.
And therefore I'm resolved, from this time forth,
To put myself into your charge and keeping;
To be tended in my old age and taken care of.

Cleon.
—No, do pray wait a little; and see how regularly
I'll furnish you with a daily dole of barley.

Dem.
—Don't tell me of barley! I can't bear to hear of it!
I've been cajol'd and chous'd more than enough,
By Thouphanes

An adherent of Cleon.

and yourself this long time past.


Cleon.
—Then I'll provide you delicate wheaten flour.

S. S.
—And I'll provide you manchets, and roast meat,
And messes piping hot that cry “Come eat me.”

Dem.
—Make haste then both of ye. Whatever you do—
And whichever of the two befriends me most,
I'll give him up the management of the state.

Cleon.
—Well I'll be first then.—

S. S.
—No you shant, 'tis I.

[Both run off; but the Sausage-seller contrives to get the start.]
Chorus.
Worthy Demus! your estate
Is a glorious thing we own—
The haughtiest of the proud and great
Watch and tremble at your frown;
Like a sovereign or a chief,
But so easy of belief.

75

Every fawning rogue and thief
Finds you ready to his hand,
Flatterers you cannot withstand.
To them your confidence is lent
With opinions always bent
To what your last advisers say,
Your noble mind is gone astray.

Demus.
Those brains of yours are weak and green;
My wits are sound whate'er ye say:
'Tis nothing but my froward spleen
That affects this false decay:
'Tis my fancy, 'tis my way,
To drawl and drivel thro' the day.
But though you see me dote and dream,
Never think me what I seem!—
—For my confidential slave
I prefer a pilfering knave;
And when he's pamper'd and full blown;
I snatch him up and—Dash him Down!

Chorus.
We approve of your intent,
If you spoke it as you meant;
If you keep them like the beasts,
Fatten'd for your future feasts,
Pamper'd in the public stall,
Till the next occasion call;
Then a little easy vote
Knocks them down, and cuts their throat;

76

And you dish and serve them up,
As you want to dine or sup.

Demus.
Mark me!—When I seem to doze,
When my wearied eyelids close;
Then they think their tricks are hid:
But beneath the drooping lid,
Still I keep a corner left,
Tracing every secret theft.
I shall match them by and by!
All the rogues, you think so sly,
All the deep intriguing set,
Are but dancing in a net,
Till I purge their stomachs clean
With the hemlock and the bean.

The Sausage-seller and Cleon re-enter separately.
Cleon.
—Get out there!

S. S.
—You, get out yourself! you rascal!

Cleon.
—Oh Demus! here have I been waiting, ready
To attend upon ye and serve ye, a long long time.

S. S.
—And I've been waiting a longer longer time—
Ever so long—a great long while ago.

Dem.
—And I've been waiting here cursing ye both,
A thousand times, a long long time ago.

S. S.
—You know what you're to do?


77

Dem.
—Yes, yes I know;
But you may tell me however, notwithstanding.

S. S.
—Make it a race, and let us start to serve you,
And win your favor without loss of time.

Dem.
—So be it.—Start now—one! two! three!

Cleon.
—Heighday!

Dem.
—Why don't you start?

Cleon.
—He's cheated and got before me.

[Exit.
Dem.
—Well truly indeed I shall be feasted rarely;
My courtiers and admirers will quite spoil me.

Cleon.
—There I'm the first you see to bring ye a chair.

S. S.
—But a table—Here I've brought it, first and foremost.

Cleon.
—See here this little half-meal cake from Pylos,
Made from the flour of victory and success.

S. S.
—But here's a cake! See here! which the heavenly goddess
Patted and flatted herself, with her ivory hand,
For your own eating.

Dem.
—Wonderful mighty goddess!
What an awfully large hand she must have had!

Cleon.
—See this pease-pudding, which the warlike virgin
Achiev'd at Pylos, and bestows upon you.

S. S.
—The goddess upholds your whole establishment,
And holds this mess of porridge over your head.

Dem.
—I say the establishment could not subsist
For a single hour, unless the goddess upheld
The porridge of our affairs, most manifestly.


78

Cleon.
—She the dread virgin who delights in battle,
And storm and battery, sends this batter-pudding.

S. S.
—This savory stew, with comely sippets deck'd,
Is sent you by the Gorgon-bearing goddess,
Who bids you gorge and gormandize thereon.

Cleon.
—The daughter of Jove arrayed in panoply
Presents you a pancake to create a panic
Amongst your enemies.

S. S.
—And by me she sends
For your behoof this dainty dish of fritters,
Well fried, to strike your foemen with affright;
—And here's a cup of wine—taste it and try.

Dem.
—It's capital faith!

S. S.
—And it ought to be; for Pallas
Mix'd it herself expressly for your palate.

Cleon.
—This slice of rich sweet-cake, take it from me.

S. S.
—This whole great rich sweet-cake take it from me.

Cleon
[to the S. S.]
—Ah but hare-pie—where will you get hare-pie?

S. S.
[aside]
—Hare-pie! What shall I do!—Come now's the time,
Now for a nimble, knowing, dashing trick.

Cleon
[to the S. S shewing the dish which he is going to present]
Look there you poor rabscallion.

S. S.
—Pshaw! no matter.
I've people of my own there in attendance.
They're coming here—I see them.

Cleon.
—Who? What are they?

S. S.
—Envoys with bags of money.

[Cleon sets down his hare-pie, and runs off the stage to intercept the supposed envoys.]

79

Cleon.
—Where? Where are they?
Where? Where?

S. S.
—What's that to you? Can't ye be civil?
Why don't you let the foreigners alone?—
There's a hare-pie, my dear own little Demus,
A nice hare-pie, I've brought ye!—See look there!

Cleon.
[returning]
By Jove he's stolen it, and serv'd it up.

S. S.
—Just as you did the prisoners at Pylos.

Demus.
—Where did ye get it? How did ye steal it? Tell me.

S. S.
—The scheme and the suggestion were divine,
The theft and the execution simply mine.

Cleon.
—I took the trouble.

S. S.
—But I serv'd it up.

Demus.
—Well he that brings the thing must get the thanks.

Cleon.
[aside]
Alas I'm circumvented and undone,
Out-fac'd and over-impudentified.

S. S.
—Come Demus, had not you best decide at once,
Which is your truest friend, and best disposed
To the interest of the state, to your belly and you.

Demus.
—But how can I decide it cleverly?
Which would the audience think is the cleverest way?

S. S.
—I'll tell ye; take my chest and search it fairly,
Then search the Paphlagonian's and determine.

Demus.
—Let's look; What's here?

S. S.
—Its empty, don't you see?
My dear old man I've given you every thing.

Demus.
—Well here's a chest indeed, in strict accordance
With the judgement of the public; perfectly empty!

S. S.
—Come now let's rummage out the Paphlagonians.
See there!

Demus.
—Oh bless me what a hoard of dainties!

80

And what a lump of cake the fellow has kept,
Compar'd with the little tiny slice he gave me.

S. S.
—That was his common practice; to pretend
To make you presents, giving up a trifle,
To keep the biggest portion for himself.

Demus.
—Oh villain, how you've wrong'd and cheated me;
Me that have honour'd ye, and have made ye presents.

Cleon.
—I stole on principle for the public service.

Demus.
—Pull off your garland—give it back to me,
For him to wear!

S. S.
—Come sirrah give it back!

Cleon.
—Not so.—There still remains an oracle,
Which marks the fatal sole antagonist,
Predestin'd for my final overthrow.

S. S.
—Yes!—And it points to me, my name and person!

Cleon.
—Yet would I fain enquire and question you;
How far the signs and tokens of the prophecy
Combine in your behalf.—Answer me truly!
What was your early school? Where did you learn
The rudiments of letters and of music?

S. S.
—Where hogs are singed and scalded in the shambles,
There was I pummell'd to a proper tune.

Cleon.
—Hah sayst thou so? this prophecy begins
To bite me to the soul with deep forebodings.
—Yet tell me again—What was your course of practice
In feats of strength and skill at the Palæstra?

S. S.
—Stealing and staring, perjuring and swearing—

Cleon.
—O mighty Apollo your decree condemns me!
Say, what was your employment afterwards?

S. S.
—I practised as a Sausage-seller chiefly,
Occasionally as pimp and errand boy.


81

Cleon.
—Oh misery! lost and gone! totally lost!
[after a pause]
One single hope remains, a feeble thread,
I grasp it to the last—Yet answer me.
—What was your place of sale for sausages?
Was it the market or the city gate?

S. S.
—The city gate!—Where salted fish are sold!

Cleon.
—Out! Out alas! my destiny is fulfill'd:
Hurry me hence within with quick conveyance,
The wreck and ruin of my former self.
Farewell my name and honours! Thou my garland,
Farewell! my successor must wear you now,
To shine in new pre-eminence a rogue,
Perhaps less perfect, but more prosperous!

S. S.
—O Jove! Patron of Greece! the praise be thine!

Demosthenes.

In a very civil, submissive tone.


—I wish you joy most heartily; and I hope,
Now you're promoted, you'll remember me,
For helping you to advancement. All I ask
Is Phanus's place to be under scrivener to you.

Dem.
[to the S. S.]
—You tell me what's your name?

S. S.
—Agoracritus;
So call'd from the Agora where I got my living.

Dem.
—With you then Agoracritus, in your hands
I place myself; and furthermore consign
This Paphlagonian here to your disposal.

S. S.
—Then you shall find me, a most affectionate
And faithful guardian; the best minister
That ever serv'd the sovereign of the cockneys.

[Exeunt Omnes.

82

[_]

The Actors being withdrawn, the Chorus remain again in possession of the Theatre. Their first song is a parody from Pindar, which is converted into a lampoon upon Lysistratus, who having reduced himself to poverty had procured (by the assistance of his friends) a lucrative appointment at Delphi. He is mentioned in the Acharnians, see the song, p. 50.

[Chorus.]
To record to future years
The lordly wealthy charioteers,
Steeds, and cars, and crowns victorious,
These are worthy themes and glorious.
Let the Muse refrain from malice,
Nor molest with idle sallies
Him the poor Lysistratus;
Taunted for his empty purse,
Every penny gone and spent,
Lately with Thaumantis sent
On a Delphic embassy,
With a tear in either eye,
Clinging to the deity
To bemoan his misery.


Epirema.

An attempt is here made to express what the scholiast points out; namely that the contrast between the two brothers is a piece of dry irony.—In other respects the original is hardly capable of translation.


To revile the vile, has ever been accounted just and right,
The business of the comic bard, his proper office, his delight.
On the villainous and base, the lashes of invective fall;
While the virtuous and the good are never touch'd or harm'd at all.
Thus without offence, to mark a profligate and wicked brother,
For the sake of explanation, I proceed to name another:
One is wicked and obscure, the brother unimpeach'd and glorious,

83

Eminent for taste and art, a person famous and notorious.
Arignotus—when I name him, you discern at once, with ease,
The viler and obscurer name, the person meant—Ariphrades,
If he were a rascal only we should let the wretch alone,
He's a rascal, and he knows it, and desires it to be known.
Still we should not have consented to lampoon him into vogue,
As an ordinary rascal, or a villain, or a rogue;
But the wretch is grown inventive, eager to descend and try
Undiscover'd, unattempted depths of filth and infamy;
With his nastiness and lewdness, going on from bad to worse,
With his verses and his music, and his friend Oionychus.
Jolly friends and mates of mine, when with me you quench your thirst,
Spit before you taste the wine—Spit upon the fellow first.
Meditating on my bed,
Strange perplexities are bred
In my weary, restless head.
I contemplate and discuss
The nature of Cleonymus,
All the modes of his existence,
His provision and subsistence,
His necessities and wants,
And the houses that he haunts,
Till the master of the table
Accosts him like the gods in fable,
Manifested and ador'd
At Baucis' and Philemon's board—
“Mighty sovereign! Mighty lord!
“Leave us in mercy and grace.—Forbear!
“Our frugal insufficient fare,
“Pardon it! and in mercy spare!—


84


Antepirrema.
Our Triremes, I was told, held a conference of late,
One, a bulky dame and old, spoke the first in the debate.
“Ladies have you heard the news? In the town it pass'd for truth,
“That a certain low bred upstart, one Hyperbolus forsooth,
“Asks a hundred of our number, with a further proposition,
“That we should sail with him to Carthage

Carthage in this instance may admit of a doubt. See note to p. 17; but it was by no means beyond the speculations of Athenian ambition at that time.

on a secret expedition.”

They all were scandaliz'd and shock'd to hear so wild a project plann'd,
A virgin vessel newly dock'd, but which never had been mann'd,
Answer'd instantly with anger “If the fates will not afford me
“Some more suitable proposal, than that wretch to come aboard me,
“I would rather rot and perish, and remain from year to year,
“Till the worms have eat my bottom, lingering in the harbour here.
“No, thank heaven, for such a master Nauson's daughter is too good;
“And if my name were not Nauphantis, I am made of nails and wood.
“I propose then to retire in sanctuary to remain
“Near the temple of the Furies or to Theseus and his fane.
“Still the project may proceed; Hyperbolus can never fail.
“He may launch the trays of wood, in which his lamps were set to sale.”

Agoracritus
(the Sausage-seller.)
Peace be amongst you! Silence! Peace!
Close the courts; let pleadings cease!
All your customary joys,
Juries, accusers, strife and noise!
Be merry I say! Let the theatre ring
With a shout of applause for the news that I bring.

Chorus.
—O thou the protector and hope of the state,
Of the isles and allies of the city, relate
What happy event, do you call us to greet,
With bonfire and sacrifice filling the street.


85

Ag.
—Old Demus within has molted his skin;
I've cook'd him, and stew'd him, to render him stronger,
Many years younger, and shabby no longer.

Chorus.
—Oh what a change! How sudden and strange!
But where is he now?

Ag.
—On the citadel's brow,
In the lofty old town of immortal renown,
With the noble Ionian violet crown.

Chorus.
—What was his vesture, his figure and gesture?
How did you leave him, and how does he look?

Ag.
—Joyous and bold, as when feasting of old,
When his battles were ended, triumphant and splendid,
With Miltiades sitting carousing at rest,
Or good Aristides his favorite guest.
You shall see him here strait; for the citadel gate
Is unbarr'd; and the hinges—you hear how they grate!
[The Scene changes to a view of the Propylæum.]
Give a shout for the sight of the rocky old height!
And the worthy old wight, that inhabits within!

Chorus.
—Thou glorious hill! pre-eminent still
For splendor of empire and honor and worth!
Exhibit him here, for the Greeks to revere;
Their patron and master the monarch of earth!

Ag.
—There, see him, behold! with the jewels of gold
Entwin'd in his hair, in the fashion of old;
Not dreaming of verdicts or dirty decrees;
But lordly, majestic, attir'd at his ease,
Perfuming all Greece with an odour of peace.

Chorus.
—We salute you, and greet you, and bid you rejoice;
With unanimous heart, with unanimous voice,

86

Our Sovereign Lord, in glory restor'd,
Returning amongst us in royal array,
Worthy the trophies of Marathon's day!—

[Demus comes forward in his splendid old fashioned attire: the features of his mask are changed to those of youth, and his carriage throughout this scene is marked with the characteristics of youth, warmth, eagerness, and occasional bashfulness and embarrassment.]
Dem.
—My dearest Agoracritus come here—
I'm so obliged to you for your cookery!
I feel an alter'd man, you've quite transform'd me.

Ag.
—What! I? That's nothing; if you did but know
The state you were in before; you'd worship me.

Dem.
—What was I doing? How did I behave?
Do tell me—Inform against me—Let me know.

Ag.
—Why first then: if an orator in the assembly
Began with saying, Demus I'm your friend,
Your faithful zealous friend, your only friend,
You used to chuckle, and smirk, and hold your head up.

Dem.
—No sure!

Ag.
—So he gain'd his end, and bilk'd and chous'd ye.

Dem.
—But did not I perceive it? Was not I told?

Ag.
—By Jove, and you wore those ears of yours continually
Wide open or close shut, like an umbrella.

Dem.
—Is it possible? Was I indeed so mere a driveller
In my old age, so superannuated?

Ag.
—Moreover if a couple of orators
Were pleading in your presence; one proposing
To equip a fleet, his rival arguing
To get the same supplies distributed
To the jurymen, the patron of the juries

87

Carried the day.—But why do you hang your head so?
What makes you shuffle about? Can't ye stand still?

Dem.
—I feel asham'd of myself and all my follies.

Ag.
—'Twas not your fault—don't think of it. Your advisers
Were most to blame. But for the future—tell me,
If any rascally villainous orator
Should address a jury with such words as these:
“Remember if you acquit the prisoner
“Your daily food and maintenance are at stake.”
How would you treat such a pleader?—Answer me.

The tone of the S. S. is that of a considerate, indulgent preceptor to a young man who has been misbehaving.

Dem.
—I should toss him headlong into the public pit,
With a halter round his gullett, and Hyperbolus
Tied fast to the end of it.

Ag.
—That's a noble answer!
Wise and judicious, just and glorious!
Now tell me, in other respects, how do you mean
To manage your affairs?

Dem.
—Why first of all
I'll have the arrears of seamen's wages paid
To a penny, the instant they return to port.

Ag.
—There's many a worn-out rump will bless ye and thank ye.

Dem.
—Moreover no man that has been enrolled
Upon the list for military service,
Shall have his name erazed for fear or favour.

Ag.
—That gives a bang to Cleonymus's buckler.

Dem.
—I'll not permit those fellows without beards
To harangue in our assembly; boys or men.

Ag.
—Then what's to become of

See Acharnians p. 11 where both are mentioned.

Cleisthenes and Strato?

Where must they speak?

Dem.
—I mean those kind of youths,
The little puny would-be politicians,

88

Sitting conversing in perfumer's shops,
Lisping and prating in this kind of way:
“Phæax is sharp—He made a good come-off,
“And sav'd his life in a famous knowing stile.
“I reckon him a first-rate; quite capital
“For energy and compression; so collected,
“And such a choice of language! Then to see him
“Battling against a mob—its quite delighful!
“He's never cow'd! He bothers 'em completely!”

Ag.
—It's your own fault, in part you've help'd to spoil 'em;
But what do you mean to do with 'em for the future?

Dem.
—I shall send them into the country, all the pack of 'em,
To learn to hunt, and leave off making laws.—

Ag.
—Then I present you here with a folding chair,
And a stout lad to carry it after you.

Dem.
—Ah that reminds one of the good old times.

Ag.
—But what will you say; if I give you a glorious peace,
A lusty strapping truce of thirty years?
Come forward here my lass and shew yourself.

Dem.
—By Jove what a face and figure! I should like
To ratify and conclude incontinently.
Where did you find her?

Ag.
—Oh the Paphlagonian,
Of course, had huddled her out of sight, within there.
But now you've got her, take her back with you
Into the country.

Dem.
—But the Paphlagonian,
What shall we do to punish him? What d'ye think?

Ag.
—Oh no great matter. He shall have my trade;
With an exclusive sausage-selling patent,
To traffic openly at the city gates,

89

And garble his wares with dogs' and asses' flesh;
With a privilege moreover, to get drunk,
And bully among the strumpets of the suburbs,
And the ragamuffin waiters at the baths.

Dem.
—That's well imagined, it precisely suits him;
His natural bent, it seems, his proper element
To squabble with poor trulls and low rabscallions.
As for yourself; I give you an invitation
To dine with me in the hall. You'll fill the seat
Which that unhappy villain held before.
Take this new robe! Wear it and follow me!
And you, the rest of you, conduct that fellow
To his future home and place of occupation,
The gate of the city; where the allies and foreigners,
That he mal-treated, may be sure to find him.

[Exeunt.
 

Our common tune, with a syllable added to it, may be made to suit the trimeter iambic, and may be sung lamentably enough.

“When War's alarms first tore my Willy from me.”/my arms.

A friend who has accidentally taken up this sheet, tells me that he heard this very chaunt, “Mo moo” &c. on the coast opposite Corfu, in a house where the family were moaning over the dead.

From the tragedy of Phædra: she is trying to lead her nurse to mention the name of Hippolytus, while she avoids it herself.

A general feature of human nature, no where more observable than among boys at school; where the poor timid soul is always dispatched upon the most perilous expeditions.—Nicias is the fag—Demosthenes the big boy.

This speech is intended to express the sudden impression of reverence with which Nicias is affected in the presence of the predestined supreme Sausage-seller.—He does not presume to address him; but obliquely manifests his respect, by pointing out to Demosthenes (in his hearing) the marks of attention to which he is entitled.

The Prytaneum, see Acharnians v. 126: the honour of a seat at the public table was sometimes conferred on persons of extraordinary merit in advanced years. See the Parabasis of this play—See also the Apology of Socrates. Cleon had obtained this privilege for himself, and abused it insolently as appears elsewhere.

This is perfectly in character. Demosthenes (as we have seen p. 9, v. 13) does not profess to believe in the gods; yet we see that upon occasion he can discuss the merit of the “sacred classics;” like other critics therefore, of the same description, he does it with a sort of patronizing tone.

The allusions in these lines relate to some incidents not recorded in history, some artifice by which Cleon had succeeded in deluding and disappointing the party; the country people in particular (long excluded from the enjoyment of their property) who were anxious for peace.

The allusions in these lines relate to some incidents not recorded in history, some artifice by which Cleon had succeeded in deluding and disappointing the party; the country people in particular (long excluded from the enjoyment of their property) who were anxious for peace.

This mantle was an enormous piece of tapestry adorned with the actions and figures of the native heroes and protecting deities. It was renewed every year; and was carried to the temple, at the Panathenaic procession, suspended and displayed from a tall mast fixed on a moveable carriage. See Mr Wordsworth's Attica, p. 184.

Thirty two years before this time, the Athenians, after being foiled in a great battle at Tanagra, risked another general action at Oinophuta, in which they were victorious, only sixty two days after the first!—Fasti Hellenici. Ol. 81.

Observe that the change of the scene is accompanied by the idea of naval manœuvre. The ancient theatres being open at top, the machinery was worked from below; so that with the help of a little imagination the stage might at such a moment be thought to resemble the deck of a ship. Observe too that as by the change of scene and its transfer to the Pnyx (which had been deprecated by the Sausage-seller) the advantage is supposed to be transferred to the less ignoble character, the metre changes from the tetrameter iambic to the anapæst, as in the scenes of altercation in the other comedies, where the ascendency of the noble or ignoble persnage or argument, is marked by a change of the metre; though the scenes which follow may perhaps be considered as an exception; for the Sausage-seller has the better even in the anapæst; but his complete triumph is reserved for the tetrameter.

The image is that of a merchant vessel defending itself against the attack of a ship of war: the pinnace was interposed to break the shock of the enemy's prow; and the dolphin, a huge mass of lead, was raised to a great height, at the end of the yard of the enormous latin sail (still to be seen in some large old fashioned craft in the Mediterranean). It was then dropt suddenly at the moment of contact, to sink the enemy's vessel by bursting a hole through it.

“As a token of spite:” that is, as a memorandum of anticipated vengeance.—It is recorded of some old Frenchman, in the early times of the last century, that having suffered in his fortune by the depreciation of the coinage, he set apart a gold piece of the old stamp; and used to shew it to his friends, saying “that he kept it for the hire of a balcony looking into the Place de Greve, against the time, when the minister should be brought out there for execution.”—With a similar feeling the Athenian countryman is described as selecting his pebble for a future vindictive vote against Cleon.

Persons subject to an effectual restraint, of which they were themselves unaware, were said to be dancing in a net.—The Royalists, in Cromwell's time, found themselves baffled in all their attempts, without at all suspecting the system of secret information by which they were circumvented and restrained. When this came to be known afterwards, it was said that Cromwell had kept them dancing in a net, i. e. joyous and alert, conspiring and corresponding in imaginary security, wholly unconscious of the restraint in which they had been held.

This refers to a notion very prevalent among the Athenians, and which is alluded to elsewhere.

“Rash and ever in the wrong, a providence protects us ever,
“Guiding all your empty plans, assisting every wild endeavour.”
Clouds, 586.

It was founded on an anecdote, dating as far back as the time of the contest between Neptune and Minerva.—Neptune, in his chagrin, imprecated upon the territory of which he was dispossessed, the curse of being always governed by “bad councils”. This Minerva could not cancel; but she subjoined that these bad councils, bad as they might be, should be successful.