AN HOUR WITH ATHENÆUS. WE remember a frontispiece to an old edition of Aulus Gellius, which represented the author writing with the Goddess of Fame, or Philosophy, by his side, and at the end of the room was a window which opened into the street beyond; and through that opening the eye caught a glimpse of some great ancient city. The street, which ran past that house, was some street of Athens or of Rome; and an Athenian or Roman crowd was seen collected round a distant portico; and the busy din of life seemed to rewake again (as in Tennyson's "Day-dream,") from the sleep of centuries. Such a window, such a vista into past years, is the work which Athenæus has left us. It is alone in its class; there is no book in the world which resembles it. It is no romance of love or hate; its author was no poet or dreamer, but a poor learned grammarian, who loved, really loved, grammar rules and prosody for their own sake, and who wrote also a history of the Syrian kings. The great poet of Persia says, We Thy life is a riddle, O Hafiz ; Its reality is a spell and a tale. Such is the life of Athenæus. doubt not that he was an amusing companion, with an inexhaustible store of oddities and anecdotes, and a no less store of cumbrous learning and pedantry; yet the graver and heavier parts of his character were doubtless relieved by a fund of sunshiny humour and (what is essential to this kind of character) an amusing but inoffensive vanity. But the especial details of his life have faded away from the memory of the world, and there is no vestige of them left. And yet the reader of his book can trace there the exact lineaments of the author, and every page mirrors his excellences and his defects, blended together in a most singular confusion. Swift says, " I never read a book but it seemed to be talking to me;" and every body must feel the truth of the assertion. "The images of men's minds remain in books, exempted from the wrong of time and capable of perpetual renovation; neither are they fitly to be called images, because they generate still and cast their seed in the minds of others, GENT. MAG. VOL. XXIX. provoking and causing infinite actions and opinions in succeeding ages. Men cannot disguise themselves; the author's real character will always struggle into light, in spite of all his efforts to conceal it. Sterne's heartlessness is read through his sentimental pathos, just as Cicero's "Respublica" was read in the palimpsest under the monkish legend; and Seneca's mean ambition shows the cloven foot under the philosopher's robe, in spite of all his affectation of austerity; while, on the contrary, Rabelais by his buffoonery vainly endeavours to hide his love for his race, which breaks out continually from the midst of his absurdities; and Epicurus vainly masks his own brave honest heart under an outward system of worldliness. just in the same way, in the supper or symposium which Athenæus has reported so accurately to posterity, he has unconsciously been painting his own portrait. Just as in the German legend of the Cathedral of Cologne, the artist sketched his plan and then found that he had been only drawing from memory the plan of some other cathedral,- -so too Athenæus, in attempting to delineate the characters of his And guests, has been only painting himself in different attitudes; the phantoms and shapes that he has conjured up in his brain are (like the spectre of the Brocken) mere optical illusions and shadows of himself. The humour, the pedantry, the dullness, and the brightness, which amused his contemporaries at their evening parties in Alexandria and Rome, are mirrored in these pages us, and we can sit down and enjoy his company in his work, in some respects even more fully than we could have done had we been bodily present there. Every man is both better and worse than his books; and, though we may lose much of his kindheartedness and good feeling, we also lose much of his eccentricities and od for dities, and perhaps, if we strike the balance, we are gainers by the ex change. The "Suppers of the Deipnosophists" is one of those books which can be taken up and laid down at any hour or in any humour, and as often as you choose. It always wears an honest smile (if I may say so) when it meets us, and whether we read it by day or by night, before breakfast or after supper,-whether we come to it fresh for the coming day's exertions or wearied with its busy hours of past labour,-in short, in any humour, Athenæus's book is a pleasure, unless we except the periods of hunger, and hold with the witty Fortiguerri, in his "Ricciardetto," Che a dir la giusta, é pena e non diletto There is, as we have said, no book exactly like Athenæus; but yet, perhaps, we can approximate to classifying it. It belongs to that class which includes Rabelais, Burton's Melancholy, Tristram Shandy, and, in an inferior degree, Southey's Doctor. These are books for every season and humour, and, if we chose to adopt the phrase of the advertisements, we might call them "every hour its own restaurant!” They all wear a kind of family likeness, though, in some respects, they differ widely from each other. All of them abound with quaintness and learning, which mutually illustrate each other; and all are distinguished by a deep vein of strong practical humour, and side by side with this runs, as usual, a deep vein of feeling; and wherever these two meet, poetry is never far off. Athenæus has been called dull, but how often his language kindles into genuine poetry, as he relates some touching legend, or some beautiful custom of ancient days! Thus, for instance, after a long dissertation, full of legends and stories, he suddenly winds up with the following exquisite little glimpse into his own time, into the "now" which enveloped him when he lived and wrote: "And while we were conversing about such matters, suddenly there was heard over all the city the noise of pipes and of cymbals, and the beating of drums, rising with the sound of distant singing. For it happened to be the feast formerly called the Parilia, but now the Romæa, the most excellent and music-loving Emperor Adrian having on that day built a temple to the Fortune of the City; and that day in every year is held as a holiday and festival by all the citizens, and even all the strangers who may be residing at Rome." Many such echoes of ancient festivals and holidays come floating into our ears from these pages, for Athenæus, like all the other Greeks of that time, amidst the miseries and calamities of the present, turned for solace to the old times of paganism, as they hung quietly reflected in memory's horizon. Many an old ceremony is thus preserved to us, which would otherwise have been inevitably lost; many a local custom is thus handed down which would otherwise have been forgotten even in its native home, amidst the changes which swept over the ancient world. Thus he tells us that in the opening of spring the little children in Rhodes used to perambulate the city with childish dances and songs, and ask presents from door to door; and he even preserves the childish words which they were wont to sing :— The song is in truth untranslateable, rising, as it did, from those young hearts, like an inarticulate wood-song of the birds, and expressing more the voice of instinctive joy and animal spirits at the return of the season, than any particular meaning in the words; but the following is a literal version. And surely the author who preserved the old custom for us had a sympathy with the poetry of human life-an ear for that music which streams up con tinually from our old earth to heaven, and of which childhood's happy voices form no inconsiderable portion. The swallow's come, winging His way to us here! And a happy new year! Give him welcome once more And cheese in its basket, Shall we go or receive? Yes, we 'll go, if you'll give, But, if you refuse us, we never will leave. We'll tear up the door, But if you will grant Come, throw open free Not old beggars, who follow! But it is time that we gave a little more information about the book itself, and, first of all, as to its form. our eyes; the endless quotations from lost authors, and especially from the middle and new comedy, (however they may spoil the character of the work,) are as so many treasures preserved from a shipwreck; and it is only here that time has saved them for us. Schoell says, that Athenæus "had read and made extracts from eight hundred plays belonging to the middle comedy; he quotes above fifteen hundred lost works, and the names of about seven hundred writers, many of which, but for him, would be entirely unknown." His book is also a grand storehouse for all kinds of rare anecdotes and historical incidents, and many a curious biographical trait is preserved which would otherwise have escaped our knowledge altogether. I know not if any other ancient author records that Plato was very fond of figs (fol. 276, Casaubon's edition), and that Philip and Alexander were equally fond of apples, and that the latter, having found a large orchard near Babylon, caused a great many baskets to be filled with them, and the soldiers pelted each other in a kind of mimic conflict! It is, as its title imports, a pretended report of the conversation of certain learned guests who met at supper in the house of a Roman Mæcenas, named Laurentius, who, it appears from various parts of the book, was a great lord in his day, and had been procurator in Mysia (lib. ix.) The company consisted of some of the first literary men of the time, and during supper they conversed about the various dishes, &c. of which they partook, which affords matter for endless digressions, and quotations from Greek Many valuable legends are often comedies, &c. As a dialogue, the thus preserved. In a former number work has hardly any merit at all. A of the Gentleman's Magazine I gave a shadow of a dialogue does indeed run Persian tradition which he quoted from through the book, and a question and Chares of Mitylene, and I subjoined to answer are occasionally introduced, it the Persian version of the same tale and we are sometimes favoured with a from the national epic, or Shahnamah. little raillery between the guests, but This is only one of many; beautinot unfrequently one speaker pours ful stories of ancient times are conforth an uninterrupted harangue for tinually introduced, and the following twenty folio pages, and not even the has furnished Mr. Landor a subject presence of a rude cynic, named for one of his "Hellenics,"* published Cynulcus, can stop this loquacity. in his late edition of his works; and inPerhaps, however, it is this very fault deed an interesting series of such poems which makes the book so valuable in might be made out of similar tales. In Crete reigned Zeus and Minos; and there sprang From rocky Chios (but more years between) Homer. Ah, who by Homer's side shall stand? A slave, a slave shall stand by Homer's side, Come, from dark ages forth, come, Drimacus! "Nymphiodorus the Syracusan, in his Paraplus of Asia, tells the following story. The slaves of the Chians once ran away, and, having assembled in the mountains, they were continually ravaging their masters' lands; for the island is rocky and full of trees. And not long before our time, the See a review of Landor's Hellenics Chians relate that a certain slave ran away and joined the rest in their mountain fastnesses, and, being withal of a manly and heroic soul, he soon headed the others, as a king heads his army. The Chians made frequent expeditions against him, but when they met with no success, and were only in our Number for March, p. 279. spending their lives in vain, Drimacus (for this was the slave's name) one day thus addressed them; 'O men of Chios, our old masters, rest assured that this business of your slaves cannot be stopped, for we have an oracle from the gods on our side. But, if you will be persuaded by me and let us live in quiet, I will be your guide to many advantages.' The Chians therefore having made a treaty with him, he prepared certain weights and measures and seals of his own, and having shewn them to the Chians, he said, When I receive or take any thing from any of you, I shall take it by these weights and measures, and when I have taken enough, I will seal your granaries with this scal, and leave them. And if any of your slaves run away in future, I will examine them as to the reasons of their flight; and if they shall seem to me to have suffered any insupportable oppression, I shall retain them with me, but if there be no just ground, I will send them back to their masters.' And when the other slaves saw that the Chians readily agreed to these conditions, they ran away far less frequently, fearing Drimacus's examination. And those too who were with him, feared him even more than their old masters, and they performed all their duty, obeying him as their general. For he severely punished the disorderly, and he permitted no one to ravage the fields, or commit any injury whatever, without his knowledge. And at the festival seasons he used to come and receive wine and sacrifices and whatever else the proprietors might give him; but, if he found any one plotting against him or laying ambuscades for his troops, he always punished him. But in course of time, when Drimacus had grown old, and the city had promised in a proclamation that money should be given for his head, one day he called his bosomfriend into a retired spot, and thus addressed him I have ever loved thee best of all living men, and thou hast been to me companion and son and everything; and I have now lived long enough; but thou art young, and art now in the flower of thine age. It behoves thee to become a brave and honest man, and, since the city of the Chians hath promised great re wards and freedom to him who kills me, do thou therefore cut off my head and carry it to Chios, and receive the reward, and live happily there.' For a long time the youth stedfastly refused, but at last he prevails on him to do it. Having therefore cut off his head, he receives from the Chians the promised sum of money, and having buried the hero's body he returns to his own home. And the Chians being again harassed and ravaged by their slaves, called to mind the departed chieftain's forbearance, and they built a temple to his memory in their land, and they dedicated it to the 'Gentle Hero.' And even to the present day the runaway slaves offer to him a part of all their spoils; and the story runs that he often still appears to the Chians in their dreams, and reveals the plots of their slaves; and those, to whom he thus appears, repair to the place where his temple stands, and they sacrifice unto him there." What a grand bas-relief of ancient heroism is contained in this story, and how it carries us back to those times which Condorcet so feelingly calls "les temps heroiques, dont un mélange de grandeur et de ferocité, de generosité et de barbarie, rend le tableau si attachant, et nous seduit encore au point de les admirer, et même de les regretter." There is another legend, related in the sixth book, which would give a good subject for another of Landor's "Hellenics," similar to the one I have already referred to, on Drimacus. "Hippias of Erythræ in the second book of his history of his own country relates how Cnopus's kingdom was overthrown by flatterers, as follows: When Cnopus consulted the oracle about his safety, the god commanded him to sacrifice to Mercury (Epu doλi). And after this, as he was sailing to Delphi, those of his followers who desired to overthrow his power and establish an oligarchy (and their names were Ortyges and Irus and Echarus), when they were out of sight of land, suddenly attacked and bound him, and cast him into the sea. And having come to Chios, and received reinforcements from the tyrants there, Amphiclus and Polytecnus, they sailed arose amongst Triopas's followers after by night to Erythræ, and about the his death. When they therefore dissame time Cnopus's body was washed up persed to their several homes, some of by the sea on the shore near Erythræ, . them stayed with Phorbas, and came which is now called Leopodon. And with him to Ialysus, while others folwhile his wife Cleonice was engaged lowed Periergus, and seized Camiris ; in burying it, and it chanced that the and it is said that Periergus then whole country was celebrating a feast cursed Phorbas, and that for this to Artemis, suddenly there was heard reason the islands were called the the sound of a trumpet, and the city Accursed. Soon afterwards Phorbas was seized by Ortyges and his friends. was shipwrecked, and with his wife Many of the old adherents of Cnopus Parthenia, who was also the sister of were slain, and Cleonice, on learning Periergus, he swam to Ialysus, and what had happened, fled to Colophon. landed near a place called Schedia. And Ortyges, having established him- And it chanced that Thamneus, who self as tyrant, put to death all who was hunting near Schedia, met them, opposed him. And he and his friends and he invited them to his house, and having abolished the laws, conducted sent a servant to order his wife to all the affairs of the city without the make all necessary preparations, as he walls, and allowed none of the people was bringing home some strangers to enter. They established a tribunal with him. When, however, he arwithout the gates, and there they de- rived, he found nothing ready, and cided all suits, having clothed them- so accordingly he himself went and selves with purple robes; and in put the wheat into the mill, and summer time they wore curiously having ground it, he gave it to his fashioned sandals, but in winter they guests. And Phorbas was so pleased went about in women's shoes; and with the hospitality, that at his death they curled their hair, and covered he charged his friends to perform his their heads with yellow and purple funeral rites with freemen; and this diadems; and all their ornaments were custom still remains at Phorbas's fesof gold, as if they were women. They tival, for all who perform its rites are compelled some of the citizens to draw freemen, and no slave is allowed to their chariots, and others to be their come near." lictors, and others to sweep the roads. And if any of their company died, they assembled all the citizens, with their wives and children, and forced them to lament for the deceased, and violently to beat their breasts and wail loud and long, an officer with a scourge standing over them to enforce their commands. And this continued until Hippotes, the brother of Cnopus, came with some forces to Erythræ, in the time of a festival, and, being helped by the people, he attacked the tyrants, and having scourged some of their adherents, he killed Ortyges as he was flying with his followers. And having treated his wives and children with all ignominy, he restored freedom to his country.' Here is another legend, which half reminds one of our Alfred, as he sat and watched the immortal cakes! "Dieuchidas in his Megarica relates that there are some islands called the Accursed (they lie between Cnidos and Syme), from a dispute which These legends are all interwoven in some way with the subject-matter; but very often the thread of connection is somewhat slight. The book itself is in truth one mass of digressions, and Athenæus never goes on long without a détour. Sometimes he indulges us with an anecdote, sometimes with a dull disquisition on natural history; at another time we may be welcomed to a whole scene from some lost comedy; and such glimpses as these of Diphilus and Alexis are very refreshing to one who mourns over the total loss of Greek comedy. Occasionally he gives other poetical extracts of considerable beauty. Thus it is he that preserves the celebrated couplet of Licymnius of Chios, which describes Sleep as causing Endymion to slumber with unclosed eyelids, that she might enjoy the undimmed radiance of his eyes. It is to him too that we are indebted for those beautiful lines of Ariphron the Sicyonian on health, which ripple in the soul's ear with their |