@3A New Dialogue of the Dead@1 @3Odysseus and Aristotle@1 @3A.@1 News from the Earth, Odysseus! 'Tis of you That men are talking: as the poet says, You are become a name: you are the theme Of archaeologists and of men i' the street! @3O.@1 As how, O Aristotle? @3A.@1 Marry, thus: Firstly: Professor Ridgeway recently Proved -- in a manner satisfactory Unto himself, but not to several persons -- That you, Odysseus, were an Irishman, And that your father's name was Flaherty -- @3O.@1!!!! @3A.@1 'Tis clear as light: put the digamma first (A thing which always is permissible) -- Flaertes -- see? You need not be annoyed: They're a good family, the O'Flahertys. And, when you come these arguments to tackle, You'll see at once Achilles came from Achill: Which being so, 'tis safe to take your oath That he and you are Celto-Teutons both. But 'tis not of this interesting view That I at present would converse with you: No -- There's a poem lately writ upon You and your exploits. @3O.@1 Not by Tennyson? @3A.@1 O no, not Tennyson. @3O.@1 Then have they found Some more Homeric fragments underground? @3A.@1 No, it's not Homer. @3O.@1 Well, I own I'm glad: Of course he had his merits, Homer had, But as his memory for facts grew dim Imagination ran away with him. A simple tale he had at second-hand About my voyaging by sea and land: That simple story he embroidered so That what I really did I hardly know. @3A.@1 Well here's the book. @3O.@1 'ULYSSES' -- why Ulysses? 'Twas by that name that Cicero used to call me, Until I asked him how he'd like it if I were to call him Markos Toullios. Well, let that pass. -- Now, how about the Gods? I used to be considerably vexed By Homer's fashion of attributing All my achievements, all my glorious deeds (Which, though I say it that shouldn't, were fairly decent) To heavenly intervention; so that I Felt that I wasn't properly appreciated. Does Mr. Phillips so? @3A.@1 I fear you'll see He does employ divine machinery, Wherein, as stated in my published works, The undermentioned imperfection lurks: 'Tis used by persons whose constructive wit Can tie a knot, but can't unravel it. @3O. (reading).@1 I say -- ! This is much worse than Homer -- much. Protect me from divinities like these! It's like that fellow -- Lucian -- that's the name -- Who made a sort of @3Voces Populi@1 About Olympus: so, when he came here, Pluto imposed a penance, made him turn All the Homeric sacrifice-descriptions Into good Attic, -- which, as well you know, Lucian can't write, no more than you or I. But this out-Lucians Lucian -- Father Zeus 'Thundering softly', 'mid the giggling Gods Chaffed for his amours: truly wonderful! Do tell me as an expert, Aristotle, Is this buffoonery celestial funny? Ought one to laugh? @3A.@1 See, in my published works, My definition of the Laughable As Ugly but not Painful: please yourself: But when Gods talk in this peculiar vein, I own I feel considerable pain. @3O.@1 Take the next scene. I leave Calypso's isle ('Twas Circe's really) for the other world, With Phocion and Elpenor: and 'twould seem Elpenor's grown to be 'an old, old man'; Homer's Elpenor was that brainless youth, The youngest of my crew, who, being drunk, Tumbled off Circe's roof and broke his neck (A most discreditable incident): As for the other -- Zeus Omnipotent! -- Among my comrades never was a man Called Phocion, -- for, in fact, he wouldn't scan. Tell me, O Aristotle, who was Phocion? @3A.@1 A person in Greek history, I've a notion. Methinks Cornelius Nepos writes of him. @3O.@1 Well, anyhow, it's more than Homer does. Then here's Prometheus in the shades below, Whom University Extensionists Know as imprisoned on the Caucasus: What does he here? It seems to me, the Bard Has mixed Prometheus up with Tityus, Whom you'll remember: he, 'tis true, was here Once, with a vulture pecking at his liver, Until the Anti-vivisectionists Protested, and the thing was put a stop to. Then, Charon never brought me: I came here In my own ship: nor did I to the Shades Descend, as Mr. Phillips says I did: I stayed on top and offered sacrifice. This chronicler is most unprincipled! His reading's wide, his solid facts are scanty: He knows his Virgil and he knows his Dante -- But not, 'twould seem, his Homer. @3A.@1 Don't confuse The Muse of History with the Tragic Muse. For many a bard has won the world's applause Who mixed the Might Be with the simple Was: Poetry still its facts may freely twist awry -- 'Tis much more philosophical than History: Is this obscure? then take the meaning hid in 't, One's what you did, the other's what you didn't Poetic Licence, as you'll soon remark, Shows how you shot the Suitors -- in the dark: Or how, for instance -- @3O.@1 Does your rule apply To the exalted phraseology Which Mr. Phillips suffers me to use? As when I talk of perils by the sea (An element I never really liked) As of 'The white leap and the dance of doom', Or call the beach 'The glorying shingle' -- eh?' This may be beautiful, I don't deny -- @3A.@1 But, you would add, 'tis pitched a trifle high. As M. Zola isn't here as yet, I may presume the maxim to recall That Truth and Beauty are identical. What! aren't you pleased with this -- 'Upon this isle Set in the glassy ocean's azure swoon'? @3O.@1 Great Aristarchus! what's an azure swoon? Can swoons be azure? @3A.@1 Ay, -- as moons are blue. Be sure the Beautiful is still the True. Take then Penelope's appeal to you -- 'Come, come, Ulysses! Burn back through the world! Come, take the broad seas in one mighty leap!' @3O.@1 Moving, no doubt: but most improbable. No: I can answer, positive and flat, Penelope would never have said that: Penelope, whate'er her faults might be, Was always eminently sensible. This high-toned style, these phrases picturesque, They savour something of the writing-desk: Now e'en in Homer (and you've heard me state That Homer sometimes was inaccurate) When we'd a plain unvarnished thing to say, We said it in a plain unvarnished way. @3A.@1 That was in Epic: this is in a Play. I've said, when writing in a bygone age Critiques (since published) of th' Athenian stage, That when a man a tragedy would write Pity and Terror he must still excite. Some do this by the plot: and some prefer To do it by the play of character: While others entertain the firm conviction, Terror and Pity should be roused by diction. This latter, I'm informed, is now the fashion: -- And, on the whole, it does arouse compassion. @3O.@1 It does, indeed, O Aristotle! quite; It makes me glad I never learnt to write (As Wolf says, in his Prolegomena)! But this, I know, I should not say to you, You, who yourself have written. @3A.@1 Something: yes: More did my pupils, as my critics guess: But that's a theme with which I would not bore ye -- 'Tis @3allhhj akeyewj@1 or Another Story. Farewell, Odysseus! Check your captious mood: All plays that draw are @3ipso facto@1 good. (@3Exit.@1) @3O.@1 Endure, my heart! worse evils now and then Thou hast endured, -- but O these literary men! |