Table Talk
IN THE 1925 edition of Roget’s Thesaurus, the first listing for “capital” appears, unsurprisingly, under the category of “money.” Among the list of synonyms, not very far down: rhino, blunt, dust, mopus, tin, salt, chink. Higher up: sinews of war, almighty dollar, needful. Lower: wampum, lac of rupees, plum. The word’s second-place index listing sends the reader to “wealth.” There you can find among its companion concepts El Dorado, Pactolus, Golconda, Potosi; also the more easily comprehended but equally culturally dependent alimony and dowry.
The Pactolus: a Turkish river near the Aegean coast. Its sediments contain electrum, a naturally occurring alloy of silver and gold. Electrum from the Pactolus underlay the economy of the ancient state of Lydia, the first Western imperium to issue coins and open shops; mixed—debased—with copper, electrum was known as “green gold.” According to myth, King Midas first deposited the riverbed’s stores of precious metals when he washed in the Pactolus to undo his curse. King Croesus’s legendary riches, according to Herodotus, were drawn from its waters. A photograph shows a pretty, greenish river passing between scenic white rocks.
In the midst of these readings, I find myself pausing to eat a small, flat peach of perfect color and ripeness. Gone in a few quick bites, in what is likely the last possible hour it will be good.
Though a peach’s ripeness will always elude “Possessive Relations”— the larger category in which all words related to capital appear—I take my pencil and add the word to the . Surely no less incomprehensible to someone in the future, , and are now to me. I write it not next to , but where there’s a bit of extra space: right after the entry , at the end of a list that begins , , , .
