THE CONVICTED ZEUS.1

[Cyniskus, a Cynic philosopher (as his name imports), encouraged by Zeus to ask a favour, protests that his request will be a very modest one and very easy to grant: he is not

1 Ζεὺς Ἐλεγχομένος—“ Zeus Convicted,” "Confuted," or "CrossExamined." Of this Dialogue Wieland remarks:-" Never, probably, had any writing a more appropriate title than this, in which Jupiter, in a tête-à-tête, is forced by the straightforward and undaunted Cynic, in a way such as, probably, he had never yet experienced from any son of Earth, to confess the truth. The worst blow, to which dogmas, that are not grounded upon Reason, can be submitted, is when one holds up their mutual contradictions to the light. One spares oneself, by this means, the trouble of refutation, and can calmly see them, like the armed men sown by Kadmus, annihilate themselves. This is the spectacle which Lucian gives us, in this Dialogue, in his best manner.

"The inconsistencies of the Pagan doctrines of a Fate, of the Providence of their Gods, and of the system of Rewards and Punishments after death, appears in it in a light, by whose brilliance Jupiter himself is quite dazed and reduced to silence; or, what is still more humiliating, to so miserable a shift, that Cyniscus himself, at last, out of mere pity, and content with having deprived him, after complete overthrow in open field, of his power, his dignity, and his kingdom, and leading him in triumph mortally wounded, presents him with his life for so long as in the course of Nature it might be expected to last. The questions which he lays before Jupiter had, in fact, been already debated in the Jupiter in Tragedy, between Damis and Timokles, not to the advantage of the party of the Gods. But Lucian, as it seems, held it to be necessary to deliver a last decisive assault. Jupiter had to be driven out altogether from his last lurking-holes, and to be convicted of his wicked deeds so completely, that the most shameless sycophant must blush any longer to undertake his defence. This it is, that Lucian, as it seems to me, in this little Dialogue, in so masterly a way, and with so much fineness of touch, manages to effect, that I know no more complete example of the transformation of the antipodes of reason (as Homer expresses it) 'into earth and water.'"

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going to petition for wealth or power, but simply for enlightenment on certain perplexing points of theology and metaphysics. He begins with a request to be informed as to the truth of the statements of Homer and Hesiod respecting the Fates, and their absolute control over human life. Zeus assures him of their omnipotence. The apparent contradictions of the Hellenic Scriptures are easily explained by the circumstance that their inspiration had not been constant: that, when those theologian-poets spoke of their own free motion, they were, like ordinary mortals, liable to error; but everything uttered by them under direct inspiration of the divinities is entirely to be received.

Cyniskus then inquires whether Zeus himself acknowledges subjection to the Fates, to Chance or Fortune (also the object of the popular Creed); and, upon the assent of the "King of Gods and men," he proceeds to quote the well-known passage in the Iliad on the "Golden Chain," and, sarcastically, remarks that the Fates themselves more justly might boast of suspending him in mid-air. Becoming more and more uneasy at every new question, Zeus professes himself to be at a loss to divine at what his interlocutor is driving. Nor is his alarm without some reason, since the Cynic next inquires the purpose of the hecatombs of slaughtered victims for the altars, and of all the costly sacrifices? Instead of direct reply, Zeus takes occasion to denounce the philosophers and sophists, and their well-known impiety. Pressed on the question of utility, he defends the sacrificial system upon the pretext of its being an outward and visible sign of respect and honour on the part of men for what is greater and nobler than themselves. To which the Cynic retorts that one of these wicked philosophers might be disposed to ask in what consists the superiority of the Gods, seeing that they are subject and subordinate to Fate: for the accident of "immortality," so far from being an advantage, retains them in everlasting servitude. Nor, if the Hellenic theology was to be believed, could it be said that all divinities are in enjoyment of so much happiness-a position which Cyniskus illustrates by some conspicuous examples. Zeus now resorts to indirect menaces, and angrily hints at some supernatural punishment of the audacious sceptic: but the philo

sopher calmly expresses his confidence that he can suffer nothing which has not been, by the Fates or Destiny, foreordained. Besides, he observes that not even the most audacious insulters of the Gods themselves-the many plunderers of their temples-seem to be any the worse off for their sacrilege, while the innocent frequently fall victims to the indiscriminating thunderbolts.

Driven to bay, the champion of the orthodox Olympian theology reprobates the philosopher as one of those who are for destroying all idea of a divine providence; Cyniskus inquires who or what is Providence, and how exercised, and is told that he is becoming grossly impertinent; but he extracts the reluctant admission that the Gods, after all, are nothing but the agents and ministers of Destiny. Zeus, however, attempts to rescue himself and his colleagues from the consequent position of utter superfluousness and contempt by claiming credit for oracles and prophecies. The Cynic retorts, of what use are warnings against the inevitable -to say nothing of the ambiguous and misleading character of these divine oracles. Zeus makes some feeble attempt at an apology, and then, not obscurely, threatens the dernier ressort of the most forcible of his arguments-the thunderbolt. Cyniskus tauntingly remarks that what is fated is fated—and he is quite prepared to receive the inevitable. He wishes to know how it happens that such men as Aristeides, Sokrates, Phokion, suffered, while the tyrants of the world, for the most part, have been allowed to flourish. That is easily answered, rejoins the king of Gods, for are not men to receive their deserts in a future life? His unrelenting tormentor retorts once more that, for his part, he would rather escape certain misery and suffering in this life than have the offer of not altogether certain happiness in another state of existence. But, continues the Cynic, if Fate or Predestination, ordain and control everything, how, in fine, can there be any logical place for a Minos to distribute rewards and punishments? Zeus disdains to answer so captious a question, and stigmatizing his satirical examiner as impudent and sophistical, abruptly leaves him. As a parting shot, the Cynic bawling after him desires to learn, particularly, where, after all, these Fates are to be found-or how they

manage to transact so enormous an amount of business, with their extremely limited number, and ventures to think that they themselves must have been born under a not too propitious destiny. As for himself, he professes himself quite satisfied with the information he has extracted from the highest authority, and contents himself with the reflection, that, as for the points upon which he had failed to receive information, it was, apparently, not in "the fates' that he should be enlightened.]

Zeus, Cyniskus.

Cyniskus (with wallet and tattered cloak). I will not trouble you, Zeus, about such matters-asking for wealth, gold, and kingdoms, which are objects most fervently prayed for by the rest of the world, and which are not altogether easy for you to grant. I observe, indeed, that you generally turn a deaf ear to their prayers.1 But there is one thing, and that a very easy thing to grant, I did wish to obtain from you.

Zeus. What is that, Cyniskus? For you shall not fail to get it, especially since, as you say, it is a modest favour you ask.

Cyniskus. Just give me an answer in regard to a certain not difficult question.

Zeus. Your petition, of a truth, is a small matter and soon settled: so ask whatever you have a mind to ask.

Cyniskus. Here it is then, Zeus. You read, doubtless, you as well as the rest, the poems of Homer and Hesiod. Tell me, pray, are those things true which these poets have so magnificently declaimed about Destiny and the Fatesthat whatever lot they spin out for each mortal, at his birth, is not possible to be avoided ? 2

Zeus. Indeed, all that is quite true: for there is nothing

1 See Ικαρο-Μένιππος, 25.

2 See 'IX. xx. 128 (the words of Hera); '08. i. 17-19, 35-40 (where the conflict between Fate and Providence involves the reductio ad ab surdum); Hesiod, Oɛoy. 905, 906; Theognis, Tvwμ. 815.

that the Fates do not ordain; but all things that happen, whatever they are, are turned upon their spindle; and they have, each one of them, their final event, from the very first, strictly determined: nor is it possible or right for it to be otherwise.

Cyniskus. Then, when the same Homer, in another part of his poem, says:

"Lest to the house of Aïdes, despite of Fate, he send thee,” 1 and that sort of thing, we must say, I suppose, that he is then talking nonsense?

Zeus. Certainly. For nothing could happen so, independently of the law of the Fates-nothing beyond the stretch of their thread. But, as for the poets, whatever they sing under the constraining inspiration of the Muses, that is truth: when, however, the Goddesses desert them, and they poetize of themselves, on such occasions, I say, they are liable indeed to error, and are apt to contradict their former assertions. And they may be pardoned, if, as they are but men, they don't know the truth, after it has left them, which, so long as it was present, poured forth its strains through them.

Cyniskus. Well, we will say so then. But further answer me this, too. Are there not three Fates-Klotho,

Lachesis, and Atropos ?

1

Zeus. Of course.

Cyniskus. Destiny," then, and Chance-for they, too, are

Μὴ καὶ ὑπὲρ Μοῖραν δόμον "Αϊδος εἰσαφίκηαι,

'Iλ. xx. 336. The warning of Poseidon to Eneas not to engage in battle with Achilleus. If we choose to read μołpav, Poseidon might, perhaps, be relieved of the charge of having perpetrated a ridiculous "bull." Gellius (Noct. Att. xiii. 1) takes vπép μołpay to be simply præter naturam, "unnaturally," "violently." But the interpretation of Cyniskus is the probable one.

2 "Lucian means what we call 'Destiny' (Schicksal), Eipapuévny. This word seems to have a meaning identical with Пɛπρwμevη, and is used by some writers as a synonym for Moipa; by others, however, it is distinguished from her, and even from Pepromene, so that the question of Cyniskus, who does not know too well what he was to make out of all these names, is quite natural. Since, however, Jupiter knows no more of the matter than other people, so he gets out of the difficulty with the accustomed answer in such cases-'it is not permitted to us to see clearly in these things.'"-Wieland.