The Jests of Hierocles, and a Greek rascal named Minoides Minas

While reading Boswell’s Life of Johnson this week, my eye fell on a note telling me that Johnson published an article with a free translation of the “Jests of Hierocles”.  Such a text was unknown to me, so I did a little research.  I find that it is very obscure, and seems to have attracted little recent attention.

It seems that there is a collection of witticisms, mostly of the “Irish joke” form, which is preserved in bits and pieces in some miscellaneous manuscripts.  It begins with a series of “pedant” or “absent professor” jokes – the Greek word is scholasticos.

A number of these jokes were widely known in the 19th century, because they appeared in a school textbook, and were welcomed “for having to many a youngster enlivened the dreary waste of the Analecta Minora.”[1]

The text, such as it is, was edited by Eberhard in 1869, in a volume containing merely 86 pages.[2]  This edition, with the introduction in Latin at the back, may be found on Google Books here.  The contents are attributed to Hierocles, possibly a sophist of the 5th century AD in Alexandria (but probably not) and Philagrius, a similarly doubtful figure of the same date.

A look at the list of manuscripts given by Eberhard is not encouraging:

  • A – “a copy of a Paris manuscript, I don’t know which, made by Minoides Minas”
  • M – Munich Greek 551, folios 284-288 (15th c.)
  • V – Vienna Greek 192, fol. 104-109 (15th c.)
  • e – editions of Rhoer and Boissonade.

An English translation of the work, made from that edition, does exist, made by the unfortunately named Charles Clinch Bubb.[3]  From this we learn that the translator often found the point obscure, and the Greek doubtful.  But he does reprint the Johnson article as an appendix.

JSTOR contains little.  There is a 1951 article by Rapp about the collection from 1950, which is mainly concerned to introduce the collection in general terms, but corrects some of the misapprehensions of Bubb.[4]  Thankfully this has much interesting information at the end:

The best and most recent edition of the collection was published in Berlin in 1869 by Alfred Eberhard (Philogelos, Hieroclis et Philagrii Facetiae, Berlin: Ebeling & Plahn). It consists of 264 jokes, a very few appearing twice. Eberhard’s work is based largely upon three manuscripts, known as A, M, and V.   V (Vindobonensis) is of the I 5th century, and contains 68 jokes. M (Monacensis) is also of the Isth century; it consists of 125 jokes. The largest collection, A, with 258 jokes, is not only the most complete but the most exasperating and elusive of Eberhard’s three major sources. It is an apograph made in the robber-baron days of scholarship by a man with the name of Minoides Minas. Of Minoides Minas, Eberhard has this to say: (p. 58)

“He was a Greek who was famous for the number of books he discovered, destroyed, stole, and concealed. He openly rifled the libraries of Greece and Asia, and copied off these jokes from some manuscript or other; whereupon he proceeded to hide all traces of what anybody would want to know about them.”

Boissonade, noted French classical scholar and contemporary of Minas, published an edition of this jokebook in Paris in 1848, using Minas’ apograph. Twenty years later Eberhard, who was hoping to put out a complete and scholarly edition, made every effort to see the apograph. But his repeated letters to two Parisian scholars got no reply; so he was forced to use Boissonade’s text for A. Basing his work largely on careful comparison of these sources, together with some early editions which stemmed from an independent source, Eberhard finally edited his Philogelos.

The Philogelos, as we have it, is really not one joke book, but two. It seems to have been compiled from previous collections made by two different men: Hierocles and Philagrius. Codex A and M mention both names. V mentions only Hierocles; but it is possible that Philagrius’ name dropped out of V, as Eberhard suggests, because Hierocles’ appeared first and because most of the jokes were his. Further evidence that we have here two joke books, not one, lies in the fact that some of the jokes appear twice, in slightly different wording; and yet never more than twice. From two separate joke books then, those of Hierocles and Philagrius, somebody appears to have made a new collection. Who he was we do not know; nor do we know what other sources he may have used, nor the titles of the two original joke books. This anonymous compiler probably provided the title Philogelos.

Before the discovery of codices A, M, and V, 28 of these jokes were known to exist. They were found appended to a 10th century manuscript of Hierocles’ work, the “Commentary on the Golden Words of Pythagoras.” The ascription of the jokes to the philosopher Hierocles was at first not seriously questioned, and in 16o5 Marquard Freher edited both works together. For the next one hundred and fifty years, these 28 jokes achieved a wide popularity; so that Johann Adam Schier, whose edition appeared in 1750, was able to list an Index of Principal Editions which had appeared before him. Schier lists seven leading ones, implying there were many others. By this time, this collection of “asteia,”or “facetiae,” was being printed separately and for its own sake for the light-minded; and at the same time kept appearing as a reluctant and bizarre appendages to the Golden Words of Pythagoras. In view of the subject matter of these jokes there is a delicate, though purely accidental, irony involved. Needham, for example, who rejected the ascription of the asteia to the Hierocles of the Commentary, nevertheless printed the jokes as a sort of appendix, after apologizing as follows: (Peter Needham, Hieroclis Philosophi Alexandrini Commentarius in Aurea Carmina. Cambridge, Eng.: A. & J. Churchill, 1709, p. 459)

“Since there happened to be a few empty pages, and so that nothing might be omitted from my edition, nothing which bore the name of Hierocles, I decided to add these facetiae, as they are called; even though their frivolous themes, and an occasional expression only found in later Greek, lead us to assume that they should not be ascribed to Hierocles, the Alexandrian.”

In the Gentleman’s Magazine for September 1741 (xi. 477-9), when Samuel Johnson was a contributor, there appears an interesting article entitled “The Jests of Hierocles.” A footnote to the caption reads: “The author of the celebrated Comment on Pythagoras.” The article opens with an apology directed to the editor:

“… if you should be censured for inserting any Thing of so little Importance, you may allege, that they have been thought worthy to be preserv’d for many Ages; [and] that they were ascribed to no meaner an Author than Hierocles ….”

Twenty,one of the 28 facetiae are then given in broad English adaptation, a version which is generously padded, and which often takes the surprise out of the “punch line.” The omissions are no doubt due to textual and moral difficulties.

So, for over 1o5 years these 28 asteia circulated about Europe. Not until 1768 was the number enlarged, when Rhoer published 66 jokes based on the 68 which had been discovered in Codex V. Shortly afterwards, the existence of the Augustan Codex (later called Monacensis), with 212 jokes, was noted by Pontanus; who proceeded to publish 109 of them with Latin translations.

That was all, until Minoides Minas ransacked the libraries of Greece and Asia, and became “famous for the number of books he discovered, destroyed, stole, and concealed;” among which was presumably Codex A with 258 facetiae, which Boissonade proceeded to publish in 1848. The Philogelos, as we said, seems to be a merger of two separate joke books, those of Hierocles and Philagrius

The identities of the “Hierocles” and “Philagrius” are completely obscure, and the attributions may be accidental.  Rapp remarks that jokes lend themselves to adaptation in transmission, and although many are clearly pagan, the current dress of them is 9-10th century.

He finishes by adding that the interest in these items collapsed shortly after Eberhard’s publication.  Nothing was then done, it seems, beyond Bubb’s translation.  A JSTOR search reveals very little.

It would be good if someone would grab hold of this and identify the “Paris manuscript”, at the very least.  These pieces of vulgar literature reveal something very meaningful about ancient society, and are well worth preserving and transmitting.

It would be wrong not to quote one or two of the items, so here are a couple that struck my eye:

5o.  A pedant who was a money lender told a sailor, one of his debtors, to furnish him with a cinerary urn and also for his eight year old boys two slave girls of the right size with allowance for growth.

57.  A father advised a pedant who had a child born to him of a slave woman to do away with the child. He replied, “First bury your own children before you advise me to destroy mine.”

76.  The priest upon giving the suppliant’s olive branch to a pedant who was entering the temple of Serapis, said, “The god be propitious to you.” He replied, “The god be propitious to my little pig for I do not need it.”

149.  A witty fellow whilst in the bath was insulted by someone and he brought forward the attcndants as witnesses. The defendant objecting that they were not worthy of credence, he said, “If one were insulted in the wooden horse, he would bring as witnesses Menelaus, and Odyssus, and Diomedes; but the insult taking place in the bath, of necessity the attendants know the matter better.”

Such were the incidents of daily life in ancient Greece and Rome.

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  1. [1]Eclectic Magazine 20, 1874, p.597.
  2. [2]A. Eberhard, Philogelos: Facetiae ex Hieroclis et Philagrii libellis excerptae, Berlin, 1869.
  3. [3]C.C. Bubb, The Jests of Hierocles and Philagrius, Cleveland, 1920.  Online here.
  4. [4]Albert Rapp, “A Greek ‘Joe Miller'”, Classical Journal 46, 1951, 286-290 + 318.  JSTOR.

New Mithraeum at Kempraten in Switzerland

A correspondent Csaba Szabó has kindly written to tell us about a new discovery of what seems likely to be a Mithraeum in Switzerland, at Kempraten near Zurich.  Interestingly the site is by a lake.  Somewhat ominously, the remains of three large lime kilns were also discovered nearby.

The newspaper article in Zurichsee Zeitung is here.  An exhibition of finds is planned for November here.

Neben den drei in den letzten Wochen auf einem privaten Areal bei Kempraten, direkt am See gefundenen Kalköfen, fanden die erstaunten Archäologinnen und Archäologen Mauerreste, die sich nach ersten Grabungen als Teile eines Kultraumes entpuppten. Hier wurde nach ersten, noch ungesicherten Erkenntnissen dem Gott Mithras im Rahmen einer Mysterienreligion gehuldigt. Der Raum, 7,5 Meter Mal 20 Meter gross, war nur für Männer bestimmt. Funde von Bergkristallen deuten auf den Gott Mithras hin. Als Bestätigung für die religiöse Bestimmung des Raumes gilt ein Sandsteinfragment, das ein Antlitz zeigt. Daneben wurden viele Knochen von Jungtieren gefunden, was auf kultische Opferungen hinweist.

Ein rekonstruiertes Bild zeigte eine vage Vorstellung dieses Kultraumes, der sich vom Fels zum Wasser hinzog. Eine Konstellation, die für die Kultausübung wichtig war. Noch ist Vieles nicht erforscht. Man weiss nur, dass in Martigny und Orbe ähnliche Bauten gefunden wurden.

My translation, which is probably a bit wonky:

In addition to three lime kilns, found right next to the lake in recent weeks on private land at Kempraten, the astonished archaeologists found the remains of walls, which on excavation turned out to be part of a temple. The first indications are that the god Mithras was worshiped here as part of a mystery religion. The room, 7.5 meters by 20 meters in size, was intended only for men. Finds of rock crystals indicate the god Mithras. A sandstone fragment showing a face is treated as confirmation of the religious use of the site. In addition, many bones of young animals were found, suggesting ritual sacrifices.

A picture of a reconstruction gives a general idea of this cult space, which ran from the waterside to the rock. There is a constellation, which was important for the cult myth. Most of the site is still unexcavated. It is only known that similar buildings were found in Martigny and Orbe.

I’ve added a page on this at the Mithras site here.  The details are very vague, and mainly concerned with the bunch of 100 dignitaries who were shown over the site.  But this may be a picture of the Mithraeum – the article leaves it unclear:

Kempraten - new Mithraeum?
Kempraten – new Mithraeum?
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A curious software puzzle

A correspondent has sent me a link to a dissertation, which, he assures me, it is possible to download as a PDF.  Unfortunately his email was vague as to how, and I simply can’t work it out.

It’s presented in some obscure online viewer software, which, to my eye, simply doesn’t have a download option.

Can anyone work out how to download the blasted thing?  It’s here.

I am reminded of the curse in The Dying Earth, “May Kraan hold his living brain in acid”.  That summarises how I feel about all these pieces of useless “viewer” software.  I merely wish that the authors of such viewers be forced to use their own frustrating creations!

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Another Coptic translation from Anthony Alcock

Anthony Alcock has completed a new translation of a Coptic text on the 24 elders.  It’s here:

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From my diary

Just small stuff lately, as I am rather busy with real life.

The sample page of the translation of Andrew of Crete’s Encomium on St Nicholas of Myra has arrived.  I have passed it to Andrew Eastbourne for comment.  I’m optimistic about this one.

A post I did ages ago on whether Pythagoras ever went to India – or rather, whether any ancient text says so – has had a long and dreary series of comments from Hindu chest-beaters with no evidence.  But a commenter today pointed out a passage in Apuleius’ Florida 15, which would naturally be read as showing that he did.  So … that’s rather pleasing.

A lady in Australia has been working on the story of the Three Generals, also from the legends of St Nicholas of Myra.  We discussed the first section at some length via email, and I think it’s looking rather good.

An order via my local library for English, The Saint who would be Santa Claus, which may contain English translations of some of the Nicholas material, was rejected.  It turns out that no UK library has the book for loan.  Of course I could buy a copy: but when I recover from my cold – the seasonal joys! – I will drive over to Cambridge University Library and look at theirs.  Never buy an academic book unless you have acres of bookshelves empty!

I wonder when I shall get the chance to do some translating myself…!  I do want to do more of Eutychius.

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From my diary

I’m trying to push forward a couple of projects.  I’ve written to the translator for the Encomium on St Nicholas of Myra by Andrew of Crete, to see if the sample is available yet.

I have also changed my plans slightly for the translation of Methodius from Old Slavonic.  The lady who was to do the Greek fragments is overcommitted elsewhere, with the result that nothing ever appeared of the Severian translation that I set as a sample.  So I will ask Andrew Eastbourne to handle that side of the work.  Indeed I had always intended to use him in some capacity if I could, because of his vast philological knowledge.

In some ways this simplifies the grant application process, since I now know who I am dealing with.  I can also upload the Methodius De Lepra translation as part of the application, as evidence that I know what I am about.  But I need to replan.  Some kind correspondents have been supplying me with parallels and sources, which may well be useful.

Most of the grant bodies will only give around 50% of a project; so I shall try to find another source of funding for translations.  I suspect, rightly or wrongly, that this is merely bureaucrats trying to cover their own backsides.  After all, if it isn’t just them who gave the grant, then how can they be blamed?  But it is tiresome.  I also realise that I need to understand what the unstated rules of the game are.  So I need to telephone and talk to someone.

It all reminds me why I just pay for translations out of my own pocket.  There seems to be a whole industry that has grown up, merely to get funding.  It is a quite daunting process to the amateur.

I have been adding a few more photos to the Mithras site.  Most of these I encountered on Twitter, and wondered to what they related.  I’ve just seen one of a Vatican tauroctony, photographed by Carole Raddato, that is really quite good.  This is no small praise; the location of the monument in the museum makes photography almost impossible.  I’ve seen it myself, tried to get useful pictures, and failed!

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Books lost, books retained

This evening I was chagrined to discover that I cannot find anywhere my copy of Blanchard’s translation of Eznik of Kolb, On God.  I have relatively few translations in paper form, but I certainly had that.  I remember a small green hardback.  It was quite useless to me, frankly, although finely made, and it just occupied space, and I never thought that I would need it again.  But I have a faint memory of taking it to Oxfam, or somewhere like that.  Now I could use it; and it is not here.

Perhaps tomorrow I shall go to the shop where I might – must – have donated it, and see if I can buy it back!!  It cannot have found many customers.

I am a fortunate man, tho.  This is only the third book that I have disposed of, and regretted later.

One of the others was the copy of The Four Loves by C.S.Lewis that I had at college.  I got rid of it, in favour of a newer copy, because it was not uniform with my other Lewisiana.  But memory is a funny thing, and I can still see the cover of the original in my mind.

The other book that I lost was a first edition of G.K. Chesterton’s Ballad of the White Horse, in the green cloth with gilt inlay.  It was probably a first impression, as I once saw a similar edition, but rather thinner.  I still have a smaller, later reprint; but I first read the work in the first edition and again, I miss the physical pages.  Why I got rid of it I do not know.

I have got rid of many books in my time, and we must all do this.  If you do not have a process to get rid of books, then you will find yourself living in a book warehouse, surrounded by books which you have no intention of ever reading again.  Meanwhile your few favourites are hard to find, lost somewhere amidst all the dreck.

Books can be disposed of for many reasons.  I get rid of books that I know that I will never read or use again.  Why store them?  These form the overwhelming majority, mostly novels.  I also get rid of books that I buy and then find that I dislike – more of a peril in these days of Amazon than it once was.  Finally I get rid of books that seem to me unwholesome, obscene, or otherwise liable to influence my mind in ways that are not positive, pure, or likely to make me happy.  It’s easy enough to get muck in your head; the difficulty is to get it out again.

Even with all this, I have more books than my bookshelves will comfortably hold.

And what do we do with “dead books”; books that once were the light of our lives, and which we read and reread?  Books that helped make us who were are; but which we have read too many times, and are now “dead” to us.  I’m thinking of overfamiliar works, perhaps childhood favourites, or books that we are attached to for what they once meant.  They all take up space, and only a fool would cut them off.  To lose them is to lose part of who you are and have been.  I have quite a number of these, and no answer.

Books … a blessed company and a curse when they become too numerous!

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Cybele’s castration clamps – medical apparatus of the Magna Mater

A couple of years ago I mentioned the eunuch priests of Cybele here, together with a couple of illustrations of a set of ornate castration clamps, found in the River Thames in the 1840’s, and now, supposedly, in the British Museum.

This week I came across a 1926 article discussing how the items were used.[1]  The details are somewhat eye-watering, but the key point is that the clamps were used to prevent blood loss, and the actual cutting was done by a knife.

The item is rather ornate.  The heads protruding are those of the deities presiding over the eight days of the Roman week, four on either side, followed by the head of a bull, and ending in a lion head; the heads at the top are perhaps Cybele and Attis, each on the head of a horse.

The item is perhaps 2-3rd century, and probably made in Rome or Italy.  One of the arms was broken and mended in antiquity, indicating hard usage.  Here are a number of images from the internet, none especially good.

Roman castration clamps
Roman castration clamps
Roman castration clamps. Cult of Cybele / Attis.
Roman castration clamps. Cult of Cybele / Attis.

Roman castration clamps - detail

Francis prints a restoration of the clamp, with hinge and screw:

castration_clamp_restoration

And, interestingly, he is aware of another example, of a rather cruder kind, preserved in Switzerland, and gives this illustration:

castration_clamp_augst

The items were originally identified as “forceps”.  It would be interesting to know whether other examples, perhaps mislabelled, are preserved in the museums of the West?

It is a commonplace of our day that “all religions are the same”, an opinion more frequently met with than examined.  We may be grateful that this particular ancient practice is no longer present in the modern world.

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  1. [1]Alred G. Francis, “On a Romano-British Castration Clamp used in the Rites of Cybele”, Proceedings of the Royal Society of Medicine 19 (Sect Hist Med),  1926: 95–110.  Online here.

The Annals of Eutychius of Alexandria (10th c. AD) – chapter 15 (part 2)

3. Bahram Gur reigned over the Persians, after his father Yazdagard, son of Bahram, for eighteen years.  This happened in the thirtieth year of the reign of Theodosius the Less, king of the Rum.  In the twenty-seventh year of the reign of Theodosius, king of Rum, Sixtus was made patriarch of Rome.  He held the office for eight years and died. In the thirty-fifth year of his reign Leo was made patriarch of Rome.  He held the office for twenty-one years and died.  In his ninth year of office there was the fourth council, in the city of Chalcedon.  In the twenty-eighth year of the reign of Theodosius Domnus was made patriarch of Antioch.  He held the office for twenty-one years and died.  In the thirty-ninth year of his reign Flavian was made patriarch of Constantinople.  He held the office for two years and died.  In the one [same] year the Jacobite Dioscorus was made Patriarch of Alexandria.  He held the office for six years, was excommunicated and banished.

4. There was in Constantinople a monastic physicians named Eutyches, who was saying that the body of Christ is different from our [bodies] in terms of its nature, and that Christ had two natures before the incarnation and after the incarnation one nature.  This is the doctrine of the Jacobites.  This monk Eutyches was the first to formulate such a doctrine.  Having heard of this, Eusebius, Bishop of Dorilea, went to him, argued with him, set forth his arguments and refuted the doctrine.  Then Eusebius went to Flavian, Patriarch of Constantinople, spoke of Eutyches, the falsity of his doctrine and of how he had sowed confusion in the doctrine of the population of Constantinople.  Flavian, Patriarch of Constantinople, sent for Eutyches, telling him to come to him, and he called a council in Constantinople (17) in which he disputed with him.  Eutyches said: “If we were to say that Christ has two natures, we would be supporting what Nestorius says.  We say instead that Christ has only one nature and one person, because he is the result of two natures that existed [as such] before the union.  But when he took a body, he has ceased the duality and became one nature and one person.”  Flavian, Patriarch of Constantinople, answered him, saying: “If, as you argue, the Christ had only one nature, then the nature existing from eternity was made again, and that the nature that always was would be the nature that was not.  But if it were possible that the nature that has always been is [also] made again, then he who is standing is also sitting, heat is cold, light is dark, and so we might say of other nonsense that can not coexist in a one part.”  He [= Eutyches] however, refused to withdraw from his doctrine and Flavian, Patriarch of Constantinople excommunicated him, but did not remove him from Constantinople, because he was a physician and people needed him.  King Theodosius heard the doctrine.  Eutyches spoke in his defense before the king Theodosius, saying that Flavian had unfairly excommunicated him, and he asked the king to write to all the patriarchs, [ordering them] to get together and to review his case.  The king then wrote to Dioscorus, Patriarch of Alexandria, Domnus, Patriarch of Antioch, to Leo, patriarch of Rome and Juvenal, Patriarch of Jerusalem, to present themselves together with their bishops in order to examine the case of Eutyches.  They gathered together in the city of Ephesus.

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An anecdote on the perils of being “learned” in public; and some others

Another anecdote from the collection of E.H. Barker:[1]

7. Professor Porson.

We have seldom read a better story, to say the least of it, than the following. As to the facts of it, we can only say that the statement rests on the authority of the author of Lacon, whence it is extracted.

Porson was once travelling in a stagecoach, when a young Oxonian, fresh from College, was amusing the ladies with a variety of talk, and amongst other things, with a quotation, as he said, from Sophocles. A Greek quotation, and in a coach too, roused our slumbering Professor from a kind of dog-sleep, in a snug corner of the vehicle. Shaking his ears, and rubbing his eyes, ‘I think, young gentleman,’ said he, ‘you favored us just now with a quotation from Sophocles; I do not happen to recollect it there. ‘ ‘Oh, Sir/ replied our tyro, ‘the quotation is word for word as I have repeated it, and in Sophocles too; but T suspect, Sir, that it is some time since you were at College. ‘ The Professor applying his hand to his great-coat, and taking out a small pocket-edition of Sophocles, quietly asked him if he would be kind enough to shew him the passage in question in that little book. After rummaging the leaves for some time, he replied, ‘On second thoughts, I now recollect that the passage is in Euripides.’ ‘Then perhaps, Sir,’ said the Professor, putting his hand again into his pocket, and handing him a similar edition of Euripides, ‘You will be so good as to find it for me in that little book. ‘ The young Oxonian returned to his task, but with no better success. The tittering of the ladies informed him that he had got into a hobble. At last, ‘Bless me, Sir,’ said he ‘how dull I am! I recollect now, yes, I perfectly remember that the passage is in Aeschylus.’ The inexorable Professor returned again to his inexhaustible pocket, and was in the act of handing him an Aeschylus, when our astonished freshman vociferated,— ‘Stop the coach, holloah, coachman, let me out I say, instantly — let me out! there’s a fellow here, has got the whole Bodleian Library in his pocket.’

I’m not quite sure where our sympathies should lie, mind you.  Do we sympathise more with the old scholar who finds himself rudely insulted by the impudence of a young snot who presumes everyone else is as ignorant as himself; or with the young man who was trying to impress the young ladies, and then was suddenly attacked for no good reason by a stranger?

The second volume of Barker’s Anecdotes is mainly devoted to rather dull stories about Porson, and so is of little interest.  I found only one other anecdote that is worth repeating:

22. Roman inscription.

In the ruins of a Roman building near the Baiae in Italy, the following Inscription was found on a large piece of marble, which has probably been the portal of a bath, or some apartment of pleasure:

    Balnea, vina, Venus, corrumpunt corpora nostras;
Sed vitam faciunt balnea, vina, Venus:

    Baths, women, wine, our health destroy,
And cut life’s scanty line;
But what has life or health of joy,
Without baths, women, wine?”

Proofs of the Enquiry into Homer’s Life and Writings, translated into English, London, 1748, 8vo. p. 41. Refer to the Enquiry itself, p. 109 or 110.[2]

If the inscription is genuine, it shows the limitations of pagan society.  For if wine, women and (Roman) baths are all that there is to life, then we are little better off than animals.

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  1. [1]E.H. Barker, Literary reminiscences, vol. 2, 1852, p.4.
  2. [2]P.15.