The Satyricon | Page 8

parasites, when they seek invitations to the tables of the rich, have in
mind nothing except what will, in their opinion, be most acceptable to
their audience --for in no other way can they secure their ends, save by
setting snares for the ears--so it is with the teachers of rhetoric, they
might be compared with the fisherman, who, unless he baits his hook
with what he knows is most appetizing to the little fish, may wait all
day upon some rock, without the hope of a catch."
CHAPTER THE
FOURTH.
What, then, is there to do? The parents who are unwilling to permit
their children to undergo a course of training under strict discipline, are
the ones who deserve the reproof. In the first place, everything they
possess, including the children, is devoted to ambition. Then, that their
wishes may the more quickly be realized, they drive these unripe
scholars into the forum, and the profession of eloquence, than which
none is considered nobler, devolves upon boys who are still in the act
of being born! If, however, they would permit a graded course of study
to be prescribed, in order that studious boys might ripen their minds by
diligent reading; balance their judgment by precepts of wisdom, correct
their compositions with an unsparing pen, hear at length what they

ought to imitate, and be convinced that nothing can be sublime when it
is designed to catch the fancy of boys, then the grand style of oratory
would immediately recover the weight and splendor of its majesty.
Now the boys play in the schools, the young men are laughed at in the
forum, and, a worse symptom than either, no one, in his old age, will
confess the errors he was taught in his school days. But that you may
not imagine that I disapprove of a jingle in the Lucilian manner, I will
deliver my opinions in verse,--
CHAPTER THE
FIFTH.
"The man who emerges with fame, from the school of stern art,
Whose mind gropes for lofty ideals, to bring them to light,
Must first, under rigid frugality, study his part;
Nor yearn for the courts of proud princes who frown in their might:
Nor scheme with the riff-raf, a client in order to dine,
Nor can he with evil companions his wit drown in wine
Nor sit, as a hireling, applauding an actor's grimace.
But, whether the fortress of arms-bearing Tritonis smile
Upon him, or land which the Spartan colonials grace,
Or home of the sirens, with poetry let him beguile
The years of young manhood, and at the Maeonian spring
His fortunate soul drink its fill: Then, when later, the lore
Of Socrates' school he has mastered, the reins let him fling,

And brandish the weapons that mighty Demosthenes bore.
Then, steeped in the culture and music of Greece, let his taste
Be ripened and mellowed by all the great writers of Rome.
At first, let him haunt not the courts; let his pages be graced
By ringing and rhythmic effusions composed in his home
Next, banquets and wars be his theme, sung in soul-stirring chant,
In eloquent words such as undaunted Cicero chose.
Come! Gird up thy soul! Inspiration will then force a vent
And rush in a flood from a heart that is loved by the muse!"
CHAPTER THE
SIXTH.
I was listening so attentively to this speech that I did not notice the
flight of Ascyltos, and while I was pacing the gardens, engulfed in this
flood-tide of rhetoric, a large crowd of students came out upon the
portico, having, it would seem, just listened to an extemporaneous
declamation, of I know not whom, the speaker of which had taken
exceptions to the speech of Agamemnon. While, therefore, the young
men were making fun of the sentiments of this last speaker, and
criticizing the arrangement of the whole speech, I seized the
opportunity and went after Ascyltos, on the run; but, as I neither held
strictly to the road, nor knew where the inn was located, wherever I
went, I kept coming back to the same place, until, worn out with
running, and long since dripping with sweat, I approached a certain
little old woman who sold country vegetables.
CHAPTER THE

SEVENTH.
"Please, mother," I wheedled, "you don't know where I lodge, do you?"
Delighted with such humorous affability, "What's the reason I don't"
she replied, and getting upon her feet, she commenced to walk ahead of
me. I took her for a prophetess until, when presently we came to a more
obscure quarter, the affable old lady pushed aside a crazy-quilt and
remarked, "Here's where you ought to live," and when I denied that I
recognized the house, I saw some men prowling stealthily between the
rows of name-boards and naked prostitutes. Too late