Fugitivi

Lucian of Samosata

The Works of Lucian of Samosata, complete, with exceptions specified in thepreface, Vol. 4. Fowler, H. W. and Fowlere, F.G., translators. Oxford at the Clarendon Press, 1905.

Apollo Father, is this true, about a man’s publicly throwing himself upon a pyre, at the Olympian Games? He was quite an old man, it seems, and rather a good hand at anything in the sensational line. Selene told us about it: she says she actually saw him burning.

Zeus Quite true, my boy; only too true!

Apollo Oh? the old gentleman deserved a better fate?

Zeus Why, as to that, I dare say he did. But I was alluding

v.4.p.96

to the smell, which incommoded me extremely; the odour of roast man, I need hardly tell you, is far from pleasant. I made the best of my way to Arabia at once, or, upon my word, those awful fumes would have been the death of me. Even in that fragrant land of frankincense and spices I could scarcely get the villanous stench out of my nostrils; the mere recollection of it makes me feel queer.

Apollo But what was his object, father? Was there anything to be got by jumping on to a pyre, and being converted to cinders?

Zeus Ah, if you come to that, you must call Empedocles to account first: be jumped into a crater, in Sicily.

Apollo Poor fellow! he must have been in a sad way. But what was the inducement in the present case?

Zeus I'll quote you his own words. He made a speech, explaining his motives to the public.

As far as I remember, he said—but who comes here in such haste? There must be something wrong: she is crying; some one has been ill-treating her. Why, it is Philosophy, in a sad way, calling out to me. Why are you crying, child? and what brings you here, away from the world? More misdeeds of the ignorant herd? a repetition of the Socrates and Anytus affair? is that it?

Philosophy No, father, nothing of that kind. The common people have been most polite and respectful; they are my most devout admirers,—worshippers, I might almost say; not that they understand much of what I tell them. No; it was those—I don’t know what to call them—but the people who pretend to be on such friendly terms with me, and are always using my name;—the wretches!