Authors -- Biography; Authors, English -- Biography; Literature -- History and criticism
As to the topics of satire and gay curiosity which occupy the lady known
as 'Gyp,' and M. Halévy in his 'Les Petites Cardinal,' if you had not
exhausted the matter in your 'Dialogues of Hetairai,' you would be
amused to find the same old traits surviving without a touch of change.
One reads, in Halévy's French, of Madame Cardinal, and, in your Greek,
of the mother of Philinna, and marvels that eighteen hundred years
have not in one single trifle altered the mould. Still the old shabby
light-loves, the old greed, the old luxury and squalor. Still the
unconquerable superstition that now seeks to tell fortunes by the
cards, and, in your time, resorted to the sorceress with her magical
'bull-roarer' or '_turndun_.' (1)
(1)The Greek _rombos_ [transliterated], mentioned by Lucian
and Theocritus, was the magical weapon of the Australians--
the _turndun_.
Yes, Lucian, we are the same vain creatures of doubt and dread, of
unbelief and credulity, of avarice and pretence, that you knew, and at
whom you smiled. Nay, our very 'social question' is not altered. Do
you not write, in 'The Runaways,' 'The artisans will abandon their
workshops, and leave their trades, when they see that, with all the
labour that bows their bodies from dawn to dark, they make a petty and
starveling pittance, while men that toil not nor spin are floating in
Pactolus'?
They begin to see this again as of yore; but whether the end of their
vision will be a laughing matter, you, fortunate Lucian, do not need to
care. Hail to you, and farewell!
VII. To Maitre Francoys Rabelais.
Of the Coming of the Coqcigrues.
Master,--In the Boreal and Septentrional lands, turned aside from the
noonday and the sun, there dwelt of old (as thou knowest, and as Olaus
voucheth) a race of men, brave, strong, nimble, and adventurous, who had
no other care but to fight and drink. There, by reason of the cold (as
Virgil witnesseth), men break wine with axes. To their minds, when once
they were dead and gotten to Valhalla, or the place of their Gods, there
would be no other pleasure but to swig, tipple, drink, and boose till
the coming of that last darkness and Twilight, wherein they, with their
deities, should do battle against the enemies of all mankind; which day
they rather desired than dreaded.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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