ΜΑΘ. πρώην δέ γε γνώμην μεγάλην ἀφῃρέθη ὑπ’ ἀσκαλαβώτου. ΣΤΡ. τίνα τρόπον; κάτειπέ μοι. ΜΑΘ. ζητοῦντος αὐτοῦ τῆς σελήνης τὰς ὁδοὺς καὶ τὰς περιφοράς, εἶτ’ ἄνω κεχηνότος ἀπὸ τῆς ὀροφῆς νύκτωρ γαλεώτης κατέχεσεν. ΣΤΡ. ἥσθην γαλεώτῃ καταχέσαντι Σωκράτους. If what fell into the open mouth had not been disgusting, there would be nothing ludicrous in the story. An amusing instance of this occurs in the Hottentot story of Tquassouw and Knonmquaiha, attributed to Lord Chesterfield, which appeared in the “Connoisseur,” an English weekly, full of wit and humor. The filthiness of the Hottentots is well known, as also the fact of their regarding as beautiful and holy what excites our disgust and aversion. The pressed gristle of a nose, flaccid breasts descending to the navel, the whole body anointed with a varnish of goat’s fat and soot, melted in by the sun, hair dripping with grease, arms and legs entwined with fresh entrails,—imagine all this the object of an ardent, respectful, tender love; listen to expressions of this love in the noble language of sincerity and admiration, and keep from laughing if you can.[159] The disgusting seems to admit of being still more closely united with the terrible. What we call the horrible is nothing more than a mixture of the elements of terror and disgust. Longinus[160] takes offence at the “Τῆς ἐκ μὲν ῥινῶν μύξαι ῥέον (mucus flowing from the nostrils) in Hesiod’s picture of Sorrow;[161] but not, I think, so much on account of the loathsomeness of the trait, as from its being simply loathsome with no element of terror. For he does not seem inclined to find fault with the μακροὶ δ’ ὄνυχες χείρεσσιν ὑπῆσαν, the long nails projecting beyond the fingers. Long nails are not less disgusting than a running nose, but they are at the same time terrible. It is they that tear the cheeks till the blood runs to the ground: ... ἐκ δὲ παρειῶν αἶμ’ ἀπελείβετ’ ἔραζε.... The other feature is simply disgusting, and I should advise Sorrow to cease her crying. Read Sophocles’ description of the desert cave of his wretched Philoctetes. There are no provisions to be seen, no comforts beyond a trampled litter of dried leaves, an unshapely wooden bowl, and a tinder-box. These constitute the whole wealth of the sick, forsaken man. How does the poet complete the sad and frightful picture? By introducing the element of disgust. “Ha!” Neoptolemus draws back of a sudden, “here are rags drying full of blood and matter.”[162] NE. ὁρώ κενὴν οἴκησιν ἀνθρώπων δίχα. ΟΔ. οὐδ’ ἔνδον οἰκοποιός ἐστί τις τροφή; ΝΕ. στείπτή γε φυλλὰς ὡς ἐναυλίζοντί τῳ. OΔ. τὰ δ’ ἄλλ’ ἔρημα, κοὔδέν ἐσθ’ ὑπόστεγον; ΝΕ. αὐτόξυλόν γ’ ἔκπωμα φαυλουργοῦ τινὸς τεχνήματ’ ἀνδρὸς, καὶ πυρεῖ’ ὁμοῦ τάδε. OΔ. κείνου τὸ θησαύρισμα σημαίνεις τόδε.