Lucian Apologia 1

[1] I have long been wondering, my dear Sabinus, what it probably occurred to you to say now that you have read my essay on “Salaried Posts in Great Houses.” It is quite certain that you had a good laugh when you read it; but I am trying now to fit the detailed and general comments you made to the text. If I am any good at divination, I think I can hear you saying: “To think that anyone could write that and work up such a devastating indictment against that sort of life, then, when the die falls the other way up, completely forget it and himself of his own free will rush headlong into a slavery so manifest and conspicuous! How many Midases and Croesuses and whole Pactoluses have persuaded him to throw away his liberty, the object of his care and companion of his nurture since childhood? Already within sight of Aeacus himself, with one foot almost in the ferry-boat he lets himself be dragged and pulled along as though by a golden collar fastened round his throat! ¹ What bracelets and necklaces the idle rich must have! There is much inconsistency here between his present life and his essay—‘rivers flowing uphill’ and ‘the world upside down’ and ‘recantation for the worse,’ not for a Helen indeed, or what happened at Troy; ² no, here in very fact are your words turned upside down, although they seemed well enough before.”

[1] Dear Sabinus,

I have been guessing how you are likely to have expressed yourself upon reading my essay about dependants. I feel pretty sure you read it all and had a laugh over it; but it is your running and general comment in words that I am trying to piece on to it. If I am any good at divination, this is the sort of thing: To think that a man can set down such a scathing indictment of the life, and then forget it all, get hold of the other end of the stick, and plunge headlong into such manifest conspicuous slavery! Take Midas, Croesus, golden Pactolus, roll them into one, multiply them, and could they induce him to relinquish the freedom which he has loved and consorted with from a child? He is nearly in the clutches of Aeacus, one foot is on the ferryman’s boat, and it is now that he lets himself be dragged submissively about by a golden collar ¹ . There is some slight inconsistency between his life and bis treatise; the rivers are running up-bill; topsy-turvydom prevails; our recantations are new-fashioned; the first palinodist ² mended words with words for Helen of Troy; but we spoil words (those words we thought so wise) with deeds.