Gallus

Micyllus Detested bird! May Zeus crunch your every bone! Shrill, envious brute: to wake me from delightful dreams of wealth and magic blessedness with those piercing, deafening notes! Am I not even in sleep to find a refuge from Poverty, Poverty more vile than your vile self?. Why, it cannot be midnight yet: all is hushed; numbness—sure messenger of approaching dawn—has not yet performed its morning office upon my limbs: and this wakeful brute (one would think he was guarding the golden fleece) starts crowing before night has fairly begun. But he shall pay for it.—Yes; only wait till daylight comes, and mystick shall avengeme; I am not going to flounder about after you in the dark.

Cock Why, master, I meant to give you a pleasant surprise: I borrowed what I could from the night, that you might be up early and break the back of your work; think, if you get a shoe done before sunrise, you are so much the nearer to earning your day’s bread. However, if you prefer to sleep, I have done; I will be mute as any fish. Only you may find your rich dreams followed by a hungry awakening.

Micyllus God of portents! Heracles preserve us from the evil to come! My cock has spoken with a human voice.

Cock And what if he has? Is that so very portentous?

Micyllus I should think it was. All Gods avert the omen!

Cock Micyllus, I am afraid your education has been sadly neglected. If you had read your Homer, you would know that Achilles’s horse Xanthus declined to have anything more to do with neighing, and stood on the field of battle spouting whole hexameters; be was not content with plain prose like me; he

Micyllus Am I dreaming still, or is this bird really talking to me? —In Hermes’ name then, good creature, out with your better reason; I will be mum, never fear; it shall go no further. Why, who would believe the story, when I told him that I had it from a cock?

Cock Listen. You will doubtless be surprised to learn that not so long ago the cock who stands before you was a man.

Micyllus Why, to be sure, I have heard something like this before about a cock. It was the story of a young man called Alectryon'; he was a friend of Ares,—used to join in his revels and junketings, and give him a hand in his love affairs. Whenever Ares went to pay a sly visit to Aphrodite, he used to take Alectryon with him, and as he was particularly afraid that the Sun would see him, and tell Hephaestus, he would always leave Alectryon at the door, so that he might give him warning when the Sun was up. But one day Alectryon fell asleep, and unwittingly betrayed his trust; the consequence was that the Sun got a peep at the lovers, while Ares was having a comfortable 1 Alectryon is the Greek word for a cock,

Cock Yes, there is that story too: but that is nothing to do with mine; I only became a cock quite lately.

Micyllus But what I want to know is, how did it happen?

Cock Did you ever hear of Pythagoras of Samos, son of Mnesarchus?

Micyllus What, that sophist quack, who forbade the eating of meat, and would have banished beans from our tables (no beans, indeed! my favourite food!), and who wanted people to go for five years without speaking?

Cock And who, I may add, was Euphorbus before he was Pythagoras.

Micyllus He was a knave and a humbug, that Pythagoras, by all accounts.

Cock That Pythagoras, my worthy friend, is now before you in person: spare his feelings, especially as you know nothing about his real character.

Micyllus Portent upon portent! a cock philosopher! But proceed, son of Mnesarchus: how came you to change from man to bird, from Samos to Tanagra[*](See Notes.)? 'Tis an unconvincing story; I find a difficulty in swallowing it. I have noticed two things about you already, which do not look much like Pythagoras.

Cock Yes?

Micyllus For one thing, you are garrulous; I might say noisy.

Cock Ah, you don’t understand, Micyllus. There is a reason for these things: different diets suit different creatures. I was a philosopher in those days; accordingly I abstained from beans. Now, on the contrary, I propose to eat beans; they are an unexceptionable diet for birds. And now if you like I will tell you how from being Pythagoras I have come to be—what you see me; and all about the other lives I have lived, and what were the good points of each.

Micyllus Tell on; there is nothing I should like better. Indeed, if I were given my choice between hearing your story, and having my late dream of riches over again, I don’t know which I should decide on. 'Twas a sweet vision, of joys above all price: yet not above the tale of my cock’s adventures.

Cock What, still puzzling over the import of a dream? Still busy with vain phantoms, chasing a visionary happiness through your head, that ‘fleeting’ joy, as the poet calls it?

Micyllus Ah, cock, cock, I shall never forget it. That dream has left its honeyed spell on my eyelids; ’tis all I can do to open them; they would fain close once more in sleep. As a feather tickles the ear, so did that vision tickle my imagination.

Cock Bless me, you seem to be very hard hit. Dreams are winged, so they say, and their flight circumscribed by sleep: this one seems to have broken bounds, and taken up its abode in wakeful eyes, transferring thither its honeyed spell, its lifelike presence, Tell me this dream of your desire.

Micyllus With all my heart; it is a joy to remember it, and to speak of it. But what about your transformations?

Cock They must wait till you have done dreaming, and wiped the honey from your eyelids. So you begin: I want to see which gates the dream came through, the ivory or the horn.

Micyllus Through neither.

Cock Well, but these are the only two that Homer mentions.

Micyllus Homer may go hang: what does a babbling poet know about dreams? Pauper dreams may come through those gates, for all I know; that was the kind that Homer saw, and not over clearly at that, as he was blind. But my beauty came through golden gates, golden himself and clothed i in gold and bringing gold.

Cock Enough of gold, most gentle Midas; for to a Midasptayer it is that I trace your vision; you must have dreamt whole minefuls.

Micyllus Gold upon gold was there; picture if you can that glorious lightning-flash! What is it that Pindar says about gold? Can you help me to it? He says water is best, and then very properly ‘proceeds to sing the praises of gold; it comes at the beginning of the book, and a beautiful ode it is.

Cock What about this?

Micyllus The very words; I could fancy that Pindar had seen my vision. And now, my philosophic cock, I will proceed to details. That I did not dine at home last night, you are already aware; the wealthy Eucrates had met me in the morning, and told me to come to dinner after my bath at his usual hour.

Cock Too well do I know it, after starving all day long. It was quite late before you came home—half-seas over—and

Micyllus Well, so when I got back, and had given is the beans, I went to sleep, and Through the ambrosial night a dream divine— ah, divine indeed!—

Cock Wait: let us have Eucrates first. What sort of a dinner wasit? Tell me all about it. Seize the opportunity: dine once more in waking dream; chew the cud of prandial reminiscence.

Micyllus I thought all that would bore you; however, if you are curious, all right. I had never dined at a great house in my life before, when yesterday, in a lucky hour for me, I fell in with Eucrates. After saluting him respectfully as usual, I was making off—not to bring discredit on him by walking at his side in my shabby clothes—when he spoke to me: ‘Micyllus,’ he said, ‘it is my daughter’s birthday to-day, and I have invited a number of friends to celebrate it. One of them, I hear, is indisposed, and will not be able to come; you can take his place, always provided that I do not hear from him, for at present I do not know whether to expect him or not.’ I made my bow, and departed, praying that ague, pleurisy, and gout might light upon the invalid whose appetite I had the honour to represent. I thought bath-time would never come; I could not keep my eyes off the dial: where was the shadow now? could I go yet? At last it really was time: I scraped the dirt off, and made myself smart, turning my cloak inside out, so that the clean side might be uppermost.

Among the numerous guests assembled at the door, whom should I see but the very man whose understudy I was to be, the invalid, in a litter! He was evidently in a sad way; groaning and coughing and spitting in the most alarmingly emphatic manner; ghostly pale,

I thought it was time for me to be going about my business: however, Eucrates turned round to me, and seeing how glum I looked, ‘Micyllus,’ says he, after a good deal of humming and ha’ing, ‘you must join us; we shall find room for you; I can send my boy to dine with his mother and the women.’ It had very nearly turned out a wild-goose chase, but not quite: I walked in, feeling rather ashamed of myself for having done the boy out of his dinner. We were now to take our places. Thesmopolis was first hoisted into his, with some difficulty, by five stalwart youths, who propped him up on every side with cushions to keep him in his place and enable him to hold out to the end. As no one else was disposed to have him for a neighbour, that privilege was assigned to me without ceremony. And then dinner was brought in: such dainties, Pythagoras, such variety! and everything served on gold or silver. Golden cups, smart servants, musicians, jesters,

Cock Not much of a one, especially with that old fool for your neighbour.

Micyllus And now for the dream, which was about no other than Eucrates. How it came about I don’t know, but Eucrates was childless, and was on his death-bed; he sent for me and made his will, leaving everything to me, and soon after died. I now came into the property, and ladled out gold and silver by the bucketful from springs that never dried; furniture and plate, clothes and servants, all were mine. I drove abroad, the admiration of all eyes and the envy of all hearts, lolling in my carriage behind a pair of creams, with a crowd of attendants on horseback and on foot in front of me, and a larger crowd behind. Dressed in Eucrates’s splendid clothes, my fingers loaded with a score or so of rings, I ordered a magnificent feast to be prepared for the entertainment of my friends. The next moment they were there,—it happens so indreams; dinner was brought in, the wine splashed in the cups. I was pledging each of my friends in turn in beakers of gold, and the biscuits were just being brought in, when that unlucky crow of yours spoilt all: over went the tables, and away flew my visionary wealth to all the quarters of Heaven. Had I not some reason to be annoyed with you? I could have gone on with that dream for three nights on end.

Cock Is the love of gold so absorbing a passion? Gold the only thing you can find to admire? The possession of gold the sole happiness?

Micyllus I am not the only one, Pythagoras. Why, you yourself (when you were Euphorbus) used to go to battle with your hair adorned with gold and silver, though iron would have been more to the point than gold under the circumstances; however, you thought differently, and fought with a golden circlet about your brow; which I suppose is why Homer compares your hair to that of the Graces

You know my neighbour and fellow craftsman, Simon, who supped with me not long since? ”T'was at the Saturnalia, the day I made that pease-pudding, with the two slices of sausage in it?

Cock I know: the little snub-nosed fellow, who went off with our pudding-basin under his arm,—the only one we had; I saw him with these eyes.

Micyllus So it was he who stole that basin! and he swore by all his Gods that he knew nothing of it! But you should have called out, and told me how we were being plundered.

Cock I did crow; it was all I could do just then, But what were you going to say about Simon?

Micyllus He had a cousin, Drimylus, who was tremendously rich.

During his lifetime, Drimylus never gave him a penny; and no wonder, for he never laid a finger on his money himself. But the other day he died, and Simon has come in for everything. No more dirty rags for him now, no more trencherlicking: he drives abroad clothed in purple and scarlet; slaves and horses are his, golden cups and ivory-footed tables, and men prostrate themselves before him. As for me, he will not so much as look at me: it was only the other day that I met him, and said, ‘Good day, Simon’: he flew into a rage: ‘Tell that beggar,’ he said, ‘not to cut down my name; it is Simonides, not Simon.’ And that is not all,—the women are in love with him too, and Simon is coy and cold: some he receives graciously, but the neglected ones declare they will hang themselves. See what gold can do! It is like Aphrodite’s girdle, transforming the unsightly and making them lovely to behold. What say the poets?

Cock Ah, Micyllus, I see that you are no wiser than your neighbours; you have the usual mistaken notions about the tich, whose life, I assure you, is far more miserable than your own. I ought to know: I have tried everything, and been poor man and rich man times out of number. You will find out all about it before long.

Micyllus Ah, to be sure, it is your turn now. Tell me how you came to be changed into a cock, and what each of your lives was like.

Cock Very well; and I may remark, by way of preface, that of all the lives I have ever known none was happier than yours.

Micyllus Than mine? Exasperating fowl! All I say is, may you have one like it! Now then: begin from Euphorbus, and tell me how you came to be Pythagoras, and so on, down to the cock. I'll warrant you have not been through all those different lives without seeing some strange sights, and having your adventures.

Cock How my spirit first proceeded from Apollo, and took flight to earth, and entered into a human form, and what was the nature of the crime thus expiated,—all this would take too long to tell; nor is it fitting either for me to speak of such matters or for you to hear of them. I pass to the time when I became Euphorbus,—

Micyllus Wait a minute: have I ever been changed in this way?

Cock You have.

Micyllus Then who was I, do you know? I am curious about that.

Cock Why, you were an Indian ant, of the gold-digging’ species.

Micyllus What could induce me, misguided insect that I was, to leave that life without’so much as a grain of gold-dust to supply my needs in this one? And what am I going to be next? I suppose you can tell me. If it is anything good, I’ll hang myself this moment from the very perch on which you stand.

Cock That I can on no account divulge. Toresume. When I was Euphorbus, I fought at Troy, and was slain by Menelaus. Some time then elapsed before I entered into the body of: Pythagoras, During this interval, I remained without a habitation, waiting till Mnesarchus had prepared one for me.

Micyllus What, without meat or drink?

Cock Oh yes; these are mere bodily requirements.

Micyllus Well, first I will have about the Trojan war. Did it all happen as Homer describes?

Cock Homer! What should he know of the matter? He was a camel in Bactria all the time, I may tell you that things were not on such a tremendous scale in those days as is commonly supposed; Ajax was not so very tall, nor Helen so very beautiful. I saw her; she had a fair complexion, to be sure, and her neck was long enough to suggest her swan parentage[*](See Helen in Notes.): but then she was such an age—as old as Hecuba, almost. You see, Theseus had carried her off first, and she had lived with him at Aphidnae; now Theseus was a contemporary of Heracles, and the former capture of Troy, by Heracles, had taken place in the generation before mine; my father, who told me all this, remembered seeing Heracles when he was himself a boy.

Micyllus Well, and Achilles: was he so much better than other people, or is that all stuff and nonsense?

Cock Ah, I never came across Achilles; I am not very strong on the Greeks; I was on the other side, of course. ‘There is one thing, though: I made pretty short work of his friend Patroclus—ran him clean through with my spear.

Micyllus After which Menelaus settled you with still greater facility. Well, that will do for ew And when you were Pythagoras?

Cock When I was Pythagoras, I was—not to deceive you— a sophist; that is the long and short of it. At the same time, I was not uncultured, not unversed in polite learning. I travelled in Egypt, cultivated the acquaintance of the priests, and learnt wisdom from their mouths; I penetrated into their temples and mastered the sacred books of Orus and Isis; finally, I took ship to Italy, where I made such an impression on the Greeks that they reckoned me among the Gods.

Micyllus I have heard all about that; and also how you were supposed to have risen from the dead, and how you had a golden

Cock Ah, don’t ask me that, Micyllus.

Micyllus But why not?

Cock I am ashamed to answer you.

Micyllus Come, out with it! I am your friend and fellow lodger; we will drop the ‘master’ now.

Cock There was neither common sense nor philosophy in that law. The fact is, I saw that if I did just the same as other people, I should draw very few admirers; my prestige, I considered, would be in proportion to my originality. Hence these innovations, the motive of which I wrapped up in mystery; each man was left to make his own conjecture, that all might be equally impressed by my oracular obscurity. There now! you are laughing at me; it is your turn this time.

Micyllus I am laughing much more at the folk of Cortona and Metapontum and Tarentum, and the rest of those mute disciples who worshipped the ground you trod on.

And in what form was your spirit next clothed, after it had put off Pythagoras?

Cock In that of Aspasia, the Milesian courtesan.

Micyllus Dear, dear! And your versatility has even changed sexes? My gallant cock has positively laid eggs in his time? Pythagoras has carded and spun? Pythagoras the mistress— ' and the mother—of a Pericles? My Pythagoras no better than he should be?

Cock I do not stand alone. I had the example of Tiresias and of Caeneus; your gibes touch them as well as me.

Micyllus And did you like being a man best, or receiving the addresses of Pericles?

Cock Ha! the question that Tiresias paid so dearly for answering!

Micyllus Never mind, then,—Euripides has settled the point; he says he would rather bear the shock of battle thrice Than once the pangs of labour.

Cock Ah, just a word in your ear: those pangs will shortly be your own; more than once, in the course of a lengthy career, you will be a woman.

Micyllus Strangulation on the bird! Does he think we all hail from Miletus or Samos? Yes, I said Samos; Pythagoras has had his admirers, by all accounts, as well as Aspasia.

However;— what was your sex next time?

Cock I was the Cynic Crates.

Micyllus Castor and Pollux! What a change was there!

Cock Then it was a king; then a pauper, and presently a satrap, and after that came horse, jackdaw, frog, and I know not how many more; there is no reckoning them up in detail. Latterly, I have been a cock several times. I liked the life; many is the king, many the pauper and millionaire, with whom I took service in that capacity before I came to you. In your lamentations about poverty, and your admiration of the rich, I find an unfailing source of entertainment; little do you know what those rich have to put up with! If you had any idea of their anxieties, you would laugh to think how you had been deceived as to the blessedness of wealth.

Micyllus Well, Pythagoras,—or is there any other name you prefer? I shall throw you out, perhaps, if I keep on calling you different things?

Cock Euphorbus or Pythagoras, Aspasia or Crates, it is all the same to me; one is as much my name as another. Or stay: not to be wanting in respect to a bird whose humble exterior contains so many souls, you had better use the evidence of your own eyes and call me Cock.

Micyllus Then, cock, as you have tried wellnigh every kind of

Cock Well now, look at it this way.