enced by his
own condition in this vain attempt to draw sweetness from sour grapes.
He was poor, and we find that this despiser of the goods of this world,
who considered money to be the "metropolis of all evils"--in his youth
coined false money, and was banished to Sinope in consequence. Among his
recorded sayings, he expresses his surprise that the slaves attending
at banquets could keep their hands off their master's dainties.

But we should be doing Diogenes an injustice, if we set him down as a
mere discontented misanthrope. In giving due weight to unworthy motives,
we have looked only at one side--and that the worst--of his character.
His mind was of an inquiring speculative cast, and in youth he aspired
to join the disciples of Zeno. So persistent indeed was he that the
stoic, unwilling to have such a questionable pupil, one day forgot his
serene philosophy, and set upon him with a cudgel. Such arguments did
not tend to soften Diogenes' disposition, and although he accused man of
folly rather than malignity, he went so far to say that a man should
have "reason or a rope." He probably thought it easier than Democritus
to follow wisdom, because he did not see quite so far. Still he showed
that he took an interest in social life, and had he been less of a
moralist, he would have had better claims to be regarded as a "wit" than
any other character in Grecian history. Many examples could be adduced
in which his principal object was evidently to be amusing:--

Entering a school in which he saw many statues of the Muses, but few
pupils, "You have many scholars among the gods," he said to the master.
On being asked at what time it was proper to dine, "If you are rich,
when you will; if poor, when you can," he replied, perhaps a little
sadly; and to "What wine do you like to drink?" he quickly responded
"Another man's." Meeting one, Anaximenes, a very fat man, he called out,
"Give us poor fellows some of your stomach; it will be a great relief to
you, and an advantage to us."

That Diogenes recognised humour as a means of drawing attention and
impressing the memory, is shown by the story that on one occasion, when
he was speaking seriously and found no one attending, he began to
imitate the singing of birds, and when he had thus collected a crowd,
told them they were ready to hear folly but not wisdom. There was also,
probably, in adopting this form a desire to preclude the possibility of
his being contradicted. He was