Part 4

After loaning a plough, basket, sickle, or sack, he goes after it, unable to sleep for thinking of it. When he goes to town he inquires of any chance passer-by: “What are hides selling for? What’s the price of bacon? Does the celebration of New Moon come to-day?” Then he remarks he must go down street and have his hair cut, and while in town must also run into the shop of Archias and buy the bacon. He sings in the public baths and wears hob-nailed boots.

[30] “Hee is sensible of no calamitie but the burning of a stacke of corne or the overflowing of a medow, and thinks Noah’s flood the greatest plague that ever was, not because it drowned the world, but spoyl’d the grasse.” Earle’s _Micro-cosmographie_, “A Plaine Country Fellow.”

XXIII _The Penurious Man_

(Ἀνελευθερία)

Penuriousness is the grudging of expense and is due to great love of money and little love of honor. The penurious man, after a victory on the tragic stage, sets up a wooden chaplet to Dionysus, on which he inscribes his own name. If contributions from the public are asked for, he is silent or rises and quits the company. When he gives his daughter in marriage, he sells the sacrificial offerings, excepting the parts that belong by law to the priests. At the wedding, he employs only servants who will eat at home.

As trierarch[31] he takes the pilot’s blankets and spreads them on deck for himself, while he puts his own away. He is the sort of man who keeps his children from school when a festival comes, and makes excuses for them on the plea of ill-health, that he may avoid the fee for tuition.

When he goes to market, he brings the meat home with him, carrying the vegetables in the folds of his cloak. He stays indoors when he sends his tunic to the cleaner. If he catches sight of a friend coming towards him and soliciting contributions, he sneaks off through a by-street and goes home by a roundabout way. He employs no maid for his wife, although she brought him a dowry, but hires a child from the woman’s market to accompany her on her errands.

He keeps his patched shoes until they are twice worn out, saying they are still good, and tough as horn. When he gets up, he dusts the house and makes the beds, and when he sits down he lays aside the coat he is wearing in order to spare it.

[31] Commander of a galley.

XXIV _The Pompous Man_

(Ὑπερηφανία)

Pompousness is contempt for everybody save one’s self. If you have urgent business, the pompous man will tell you that he will meet you after dinner on his walk. If he has done you a favor, he reminds you of it. When elected to office he declines, saying under oath he has no leisure. He is not disposed to make the first call on anybody. Tradesmen and hired men he orders to come to him by daybreak.

As he passes along the street, he does not greet the men he meets; he lowers his eyes and when it suits him raises them again. If he entertains friends he does not dine with them, but instructs some of his underlings to attend to the duties of entertainment.

He sends a messenger ahead when he makes a call, to say that he approaches. He allows no one to enter while he is at his oil-rub, his bath, or his dinner. When he is casting an account, he instructs a slave to set down the items, foot up the total, and arrange it in a statement for him. He does not write in a letter: “You would do me a favor,” but “I want this done,” and “I have sent for this and wish to have it,” and “See to it that my orders are followed precisely,” and “Have this done immediately.”

XXV _The Braggart_

(Ἀλαζονεία)

Bragging is pretending to have excellences that one does not really possess. The braggart is the man who stands on the wharf and tells the bystanders how much capital he has invested in ships at sea, and tells how extensive is his business of loaning money, and how much he has made and lost by different ventures. As he talks thus magnificently, he sends his slave to his banker, where he has—exactly one shilling to his credit. On a journey he imposes on his travelling companion by telling him that he once served with Alexander, and how intimate were their relations, and how many jewelled cups he brought back from his campaigns.

As regards the Asiatic artists, he counts them better than those in Europe. And all this he tells you without having once set foot outside his native city. He claims further to have three letters from Antipater[32] bidding him come to Macedonia; but he declares that, though he has been guaranteed the privilege of exporting wood free of duty, he has refused to go, simply to avoid being suspected by his fellow-citizens of foreign leanings. The Macedonians, he says, in urging him so to come, ought to have considered this point.

In time of famine, he says, his expenditures for the poor amounted to over five talents; for he hadn’t the heart to refuse. When he’s with strangers, he often bids some one place the reckoning counters on the table, and computing by six hundreds and by minae, glibly mentioning the names of his pretended debtors, he makes a total of twenty-four talents, saying that the whole sum had gone for voluntary contributions, and that, too, without including subscriptions for the navy or for other public objects.

At times he goes to the horse-market where blooded stock is for sale, and makes pretence of wanting to buy; and stepping up to the block, he hunts his clothes for two talents, upbraiding his servant for coming along without any money. Though he lives in a rented house, he represents it to those who do not know as the family homestead; yet adds that he thinks of selling it as being too small for the proper entertainment of his friends.

[32] A general of Alexander. Upon Alexander’s death he became king of Macedonia.

XXVI _The Oligarch_

(Ὀλιγαρχία)

Oligarchy is a love of power that clings tightly to personal advantage. The oligarch rises in the people’s councils, when assistants to the archon are elected for the management of a fête, and says: “These men must have absolute control.” And although others have suggested ten, he insists that _one_ is enough, but he must be a _man_. The only line of Homer that stays in his memory is: “A crowd’s rule is bad; let there be one ruler.” He knows no other verse. He is, however, an adept at such phrases as this: “We must hold a caucus and make our plans; we must cut loose from mob and market; we must throw aside the annoyance of petty office and of insult or honor at the masses’ whim; we or they must rule the state.”

At midday he goes out with his mantle thrown about him, his hair dressed in the mode and his nails fashionably trimmed; he promenades down Odeon Way ejaculating: “Sycophants have made the city no longer habitable. What outrages we endure in court from our persecutors! Why men nowadays go into office, is a marvel to me. How ungrateful the mob is! although one is always giving, giving.”

If, at the Assembly, a naked, hungry vagabond sits next to him, he complains of the outrage. “When,” he asks, “is a stop to be put to this ruin of our property by taxation for fêtes and navy? How odious is this crew of demagogues! Theseus,” he says, “was the forefront of all this offending, for out of twelve cities, he brought the masses into one, to overthrow the monarchies. He met his just reward,—he was the first to fall a victim at their hands.” This is the way he talks to foreigners and to citizens of his own temper and party.

XXVII _The Backbiter_

(Κακολογία)

Backbiting is a disposition[33] to vilify others. When the backbiter is asked “Who is so and so?” he begins, like the genealogists, with the man’s ancestry. “His father’s name was originally Sosias,[34] but amongst the soldiers it became Sosistratus, and upon registration in the deme, it was again changed to Sosidemus. His mother was a Thracian,—gentle blood! you see. At any rate this jewel’s name was Krinokoraka. Women of that name _are_ of gentle blood in Thrace, so people say! The man himself, with an ancestry like that, is a foul fellow fit for the whipping-post.” In a company where his companions are maligning a man, he of course takes up the attack and says: “For my part I hate him of all men. He is a bad character, as one may see from his face, and as for his meanness, it has no parallel and here is a proof: His wife brought him a dowry of talents of money and yet after the birth of their first child, he gave her but three pence a day for household expenses and forced her to bathe in cold water on the festival of Poseidon in midwinter.” When he is seated with a group, he loves to talk about an acquaintance who has just risen and gone, and his biting tongue does not spare even the man’s kinsfolk. Of his own relatives and friends, he says the vilest things and even maligns the dead. Backbiting is what he calls frankness of speech, democracy, and freedom; and there is nothing he enjoys so much.

[33] “Scandal, like other virtues, is in part its own reward, as it gives us the satisfaction of making ourselves appear better than others, or others no better than ourselves.” Benj. Franklin, _Works_, ed. Sparks, II., p. 540.

[34] Apparently a slave’s name.

XXVIII _The Avaricious Man_

(Αἰσχροκέρδεια)

Avarice is greedy love of gain. When the avaricious man gives a dinner, he puts scant allowance of bread on the table. He borrows money of a stranger who is lodging with him. When he distributes the portions at table, he says it is fair for the laborer to receive double and straightway loads his own plate. He engages in wine traffic, and sells adulterated liquors even to his friend. He goes to the show and takes his children with him, on the days when spectators are admitted to the galleries free. When he is the people’s delegate, he leaves at home the money provided by the city, and borrows from his fellow commissioners.

He loads more luggage on his porter than the man can carry, and provides him with the smallest rations of any man in the party. When presents are given the delegates by foreign courts, he demands his share at once, and sells it. At the bath he says the oil brought him is bad, and shouts: “Boy, the oil is rancid;” and in its stead takes what belongs to another. If his servants find money on the highway, he demands a share of it, saying: “Luck’s gifts are common property.” When he sends his cloak to be cleaned, he borrows another from an acquaintance and keeps it until it is asked for. He also does this sort of thing: he uses King Frugal’s measure with the bottom dented in, for doling out supplies to his household and then secretly brushes off the top. He sells underweight even to his friend, who thinks he is buying according to market standard.

When he pays a debt of thirty pounds, he does so with a discount of four shillings. When, owing to sickness, his children are not at school the entire month, he deducts a proportionate amount from the teacher’s pay; and during the month of Anthesterion he does not send them to their studies at all, on account of the frequent shows, and so he avoids tuition fees. If he receives coppers from a slave who has been serving out, he demands in addition the exchange value of silver. When he gets a statement from the deme’s[35] administrator, he demands provision for his slaves at public cost.

He makes note of the half-radishes left on the table, to keep the servants from taking them. If he goes abroad with friends, he uses their servants and hires his own out; yet he does not contribute to the common fund the money thus received. When others combine with him to give a banquet at his house, he secretly includes in his account the wood, figs, vinegar, salt, and lamp-oil,—trifles furnished from his supplies. If a marriage is announced in a friend’s family, he goes away a little beforehand, to avoid sending a wedding present. He borrows of friends such articles as they would not ask to have returned, or such as, if returned, they would not readily accept.

[35] The deme was a local division.

XXIX _The Late Learner_

(Ὀψιμαθία)

The late learner has a fondness for study late in life. He commits whole passages of poetry to memory when sixty years of age; but when he essays to quote them at a banquet his memory trips. From his son, he learns “Forward march!” “Shoulder arms!” “’Bout face!” At the feast of heroes he pits himself against the boys in the torch-race; and of course when he is invited to the temple of Hercules, he throws aside his mantle, and makes ready to lift the steer, that he may bend back its neck. He goes to the wrestling-grounds and joins in the matches.

At the shows he stays one performance after another until he has learned the songs by heart. If he is dedicated to Sabazius, he is eager to be declared the fairest; if he falls in love with some damsel, he makes an onset on her door, only to be assaulted by a rival and hauled before the court. He makes a trip to the country on a mare he has never before ridden, and, essaying feats of horsemanship on the road, he falls and breaks his head.

He joins a boys’ club too, and entertains the members at his house; he plays “ducks and drakes” with his servant, and competes at archery and javelin-throwing with his children’s tutor, and he expects the tutor, as though ignorant of these sports, to learn them from him. He wrestles at the baths, turning a bench nimbly about to create the impression that he has been well trained in the art; and if women happen to be standing near, he trips a dance, whistling his own music.

XXX _The Vicious Man_

(Φιλοπονηρία)

Viciousness is love of what is bad. The vicious man is one who associates with men convicted in public suits, and who assumes that, if he makes friends of these fellows, he will gain in knowledge of the world, and so will be more feared.

Of upright men, he declares that no one is by nature upright, but that all men are alike, and he even reproaches the man who is honorable. The bad man, he asserts, is free from prejudice, if one will but make the trial, and, while in some respects he admits that men speak truly of such a man, in others he refuses to allow it. “For,” says he, “the fellow is clever, companionable, and a gentleman;” in fact, he maintains that he never met so talented a person. He supports him, therefore, when he speaks in the assembly or is defendant in court, and to those sitting in judgment he’s apt to say that one must judge not the man, but the facts; and he declares that his friend is the very watch-dog of the people, “for he watches out for evil-doers”; and he adds: “We shall no longer have men to burden themselves with a care for the common weal, if we abandon men like him.”

It’s the vicious man’s way to constitute himself the patron of all worthless scamps and to support them before the court in desperate cases; and, when he passes judgment, he puts the worst construction on the arguments of the opposing counsel.