Works of Lucian of Samosata, vol 2 | Page 6

as a boor.
Apart from this, your host's pledge has secured you the enmity of many
of his old friends, with some of whom it was already a grievance, that
an acquaintance of a few hours' standing should sit above men who
have been drinking the cup of slavery for years. Tongues are busy with
you at once. Listen to some of them. 'So! We are to give place to
new-comers! It wanted but this. The gates of Rome are open to none
but these Greeks. Now what is their claim to be set over our heads? I
suppose they think they are conferring a favour on us with their wordy
stuff?' 'How he did drink, to be sure!' says another. 'And did you see
how he shovelled his food down, hand over hand? Mannerless
starveling! He has never so much as dreamt of white bread before.
'Twas the same with the capon and pheasant; much if he left us the
bones to pick!' 'My dear sirs' (cries number three), 'I give him five days
at the outside; after which you will see him at our end of the table,
making like moan with ourselves. He is a new pair of shoes just now,
and is treated with all ceremony. Wait till he has been worn a few times,
and the mud has done its work; he will be flung under the bed, poor
wretch, like the rest of us, to be a receptacle for bugs.' Such are some
among the many comments you excite; and, for all we know, mischief
may be brewing at this moment.
Meanwhile, you are the guest of the evening, and the principal theme of
conversation. Your unwonted situation has led you on to drink more

than was advisable. For some time you have been feeling
uncomfortable effects from your host's light, eager wine. To get up
before the rest would be bad manners: to remain is perilous. The
drinking is prolonged; subject upon subject is started, spectacle after
spectacle is produced; for your host is determined that you shall see all
he has to show. You suffer the torments of the damned. You see
nothing of what is going forward: some favourite singer or musician is
performing--you hear him not; and while you force out some
complimentary phrase, you are praying that an earthquake may
swallow up all, or that the news of a fire may break up the party.
Such, my friend, is your first dinner, the best you will ever get. For my
part, give me a dinner of herbs, with liberty to eat when I will and as
much as I will. I shall spare you the recital of the nocturnal woes that
follow your excess. The next morning, you have to come to terms as to
the amount of your salary, and the times of payment. Appearing in
answer to his summons, you find two or three friends with him. He bids
you be seated, and begins to speak. 'You have now seen the sort of way
in which we live--no ostentation, no fuss; everything quite plain and
ordinary. Now you will consider everything here as your own. It would
be a strange thing, indeed, were I to entrust you with the highest
responsibility of all, the moral guidance of myself and my children'--if
there are children to be taught--'and yet hesitate to place the rest at your
disposal. Something, however, must be settled. I know your moderate,
independent spirit. I quite realize that you come to us from no
mercenary motive, that you are influenced only by the regard and
uniform respect which will be assured to you in this house. Still, as I
say, something must be settled. Now, my dear sir, tell me yourself,
what you think right; remembering that there is something to be
expected at the great festivals; for you will not find me remiss in that
respect, though I say nothing definite at present; and these occasions, as
you know, come pretty frequently in the course of the year. This
consideration will no doubt influence you in settling the amount of
your salary; and apart from that, it sits well on men of culture like
yourself, to be above the thought of money.' Your hopes are blasted at
the words, and your proud spirit is tamed. The dream of the millionaire
and landed proprietor fades away, as you gradually catch his
parsimonious drift. Yet you smirk appreciation of the promise. You are

to 'consider everything as your own'; there, surely, is something solid?
'Tis a draught (did you but know it)
That wets the lips, but leaves the palate dry. After an interval of
embarrassment, you leave the matter to his decision. He declines the
responsibility, and calls for the intervention of one of the company: