surrounded by the deities who form the inner circle of his court. In great agitation he confides to them that, the day before, he had overheard a Stoic and an Epicurean philosopher arguing about the gods before a large and able audience. The Epicurean maintained that the gods, if they existed at all, had no concern with human affairs. The Stoic maintained that the gods cared for men. "You see our danger," says Zeus to his advisers; "we depend on a single man." A general council of gods is then summoned. As they arrive, Hermes, bearing his wand of office, shows them to their appointed places. While this is being done, the following conversation proceeds:—
"Zeus—Good, Hermes, good; here they come: place them in order of merit, according to their material and workmanship—the golden gods first—then, the silver—next, the ivory—last, the bronze or stone; and among these let the works of good artists have precedence. As to the clumsy rabble, they must be packed together and hold their peace at the end of the hall.
"Hermes—Yes, sire. But may I ask one question? If a heavy golden fellow comes, is he to sit before the bronze gods of Myron and Polycleitus and the stone gods of Pheidias and Alcamenes? Or is art to have precedence?
"Zeus—It should have, by rights; but, as things are, gold must have the front seats.
"Hermes—I see; we are an aristocracy of wealth. This way, golden gods! This way to the reserved seats! (Aside.) Zeus, the barbarian gods will have the front seats all to themselves! You see what the Greek gods are like—graceful, comely, artistically dressed—but all stone or bronze, or ivory at the best, with perhaps a little surface gleam of gilding, and a body of wood, and whole troops of mice in their interiors. But here is Bendis, and Anubis, and Attis beside him, and Mithras and Mên—all of sterling bullion, and really worth their weight in gold.
