Chapter 87
BLEPSIDEMUS. Aye, the thief is truly modest, for he hides himself.
POVERTY. Look at the orators in our republics; as long as they are poor, both State and people can only praise their uprightness; but once they are fattened on the public funds, they conceive a hatred for justice, plan intrigues against the people and attack the democracy.
CHREMYLUS. That is absolutely true, although your tongue is very vile.
But it matters not, so don't put on those triumphant airs; you shall not be punished any the less for having tried to persuade me that poverty is worth more than wealth.
POVERTY. Not being able to refute my arguments, you chatter at random and exert yourself to no purpose.
CHREMYLUS. Then tell me this, why does all mankind flee from you?
POVERTY. Because I make them better. Children do the very same; they flee from the wise counsels of their fathers. So difficult is it to see one's true interest.
CHREMYLUS. Will you say that Zeus cannot discern what is best? Well, he takes Plutus to himself...
BLEPSIDEMUS.... and banishes Poverty to earth.
POVERTY. Ah me! how purblind you are, you old fellows of the days of Saturn! Why, Zeus is poor, and I will clearly prove it to you. In the Olympic games, which he founded, and to which he convokes the whole of Greece every four years, why does he only crown the victorious athletes with wild olive? If he were rich he would give them gold.
CHREMYLUS. 'Tis in that way he shows that he clings to his wealth; he is sparing with it, won't part with any portion of it, only bestows baubles on the victors and keeps his money for himself.
POVERTY. But wealth coupled to such sordid greed is yet more shameful than poverty.
CHREMYLUS. May Zeus destroy you, both you and your chaplet of wild olive!
POVERTY. Thus you dare to maintain that poverty is not the fount of all blessings!
CHREMYLUS. Ask Hecate[775] whether it is better to be rich or starving; she will tell you that the rich send her a meal every month and that the poor make it disappear before it is even served. But go and hang yourself and don't breathe another syllable. I will not be convinced against my will.
POVERTY. "Oh! citizens of Argos! do you hear what he says?"[776]
CHREMYLUS. Invoke Pauson, your boon companion, rather.[777]
POVERTY. Alas! what is to become of me?
CHREMYLUS. Get you gone, be off quick and a pleasant journey to you.
POVERTY. But where shall I go?
CHREMYLUS. To gaol; but hurry up, let us put an end to this.
POVERTY. One day you will recall me.
CHREMYLUS. Then you can return; but disappear for the present. I prefer to be rich; you are free to knock
BLEPSIDEMUS. And I too welcome wealth. I want, when I leave the bath all perfumed with essences, to feast bravely with my wife and children and to break wind in the faces of toilers and Poverty.
CHREMYLUS. So that hussy has gone at last! But let us make haste to put Plutus to bed in the Temple of Aesculapius.
BLEPSIDEMUS. Let us make haste; else some bothering fellow may again come to interrupt us.
CHREMYLUS. Cario, bring the coverlets and all that I have got ready from the house; let us conduct the G.o.d to the Temple, taking care to observe all the proper rites.
CHORUS. [_Missing._][778]
CARIO. Oh! you old fellows, who used to dip out the broth served to the poor at the festival of Theseus with little pieces of bread[779] hollowed like a spoon, how worthy of envy is your fate! How happy you are, both you and all just men!
CHORUS. My good fellow, what has happened to your friends? You seem the bearer of good tidings.
CARIO. What joy for my master and even more for Plutus! The G.o.d has regained his sight; his eyes sparkle with the greatest brilliancy, thanks to the benevolent care of Aesculapius.
CHORUS. Oh! what transports of joy! oh! What shouts of gladness!
CARIO. Aye! one is compelled to rejoice, whether one will or not.
CHORUS. I will sing to the honour of Aesculapius, the son of ill.u.s.trious Zeus, with a resounding voice; he is the beneficent star which men adore.
CHREMYLUS' WIFE. What mean these shouts? Is there good news. With what impatience have I been waiting in the house, and for so long too!
CARIO. Quick! quick! some wine, mistress. And drink yourself, for 'tis much to your taste; I bring you all blessings in a lump.
WIFE. Where are they?
CARIO. In my words, as you are going to see.
WIFE. Have done with trifling! come, speak.
CARIO. Listen, I am going to tell you everything from the feet to the head.
WIFE. Ah! don't throw anything at my head.
CARIO. Not even the happiness that has come to you?
WIFE. No, no, nothing... to annoy me.
CARIO. Having arrived near to the Temple with our patient, then so unfortunate, but now at the apex of happiness, of blessedness, we first led him down to the sea to purify him.
WIFE. Ah! what a singular pleasure for an old man to bathe in the cold sea-water!
CARIO. Then we repaired to the Temple of the G.o.d. Once the wafers and the various offerings had been consecrated upon the altar, and the cake of wheaten-meal had been handed over to the devouring Hephaestus, we made Plutus lie on a couch according to the rite, and each of us prepared himself a bed of leaves.
WIFE. Had any other folk come to beseech the deity?
CARIO. Yes. Firstly, Neoclides,[780] who is blind, but steals much better than those who see clearly; then many others attacked by complaints of all kinds. The lights were put out and the priest enjoined us to sleep, especially recommending us to keep silent should we hear any noise. There we were all lying down quite quietly. I could not sleep; I was thinking of a certain stew-pan full of pap placed close to an old woman and just behind her head. I had a furious longing to slip towards that side. But just as I was lifting my head, I noticed the priest, who was sweeping off both the cakes and the figs on the sacred table; then he made the round of the altars and sanctified the cakes that remained, by stowing them away in a bag. I therefore resolved to follow such a pious example and made straight for the pap.
WIFE. You wretch! and had you no fear of the G.o.d?
CARIO. Aye, indeed! I feared that the G.o.d with his crown on his head might have been near the stew-pan before me. I said to myself, "Like priest, like G.o.d." On hearing the noise I made, the old woman put out her hand, but I hissed and bit it, just as a sacred serpent might have done.[781] Quick she drew back her hand, slipped down into the bed with her head beneath the coverlets and never moved again; only she let go some wind in her fear which stunk worse than a weasel. As for myself, I swallowed a goodly portion of the pap and, having made a good feed, went back to bed.