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diff --git a/old/62618-0.txt b/old/62618-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index be687b3..0000000 --- a/old/62618-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10586 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's Selected Essays of Plutarch, Vol. I., by Plutarch - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: Selected Essays of Plutarch, Vol. I. - -Author: Plutarch - -Translator: Thomas George Tucker - -Release Date: July 11, 2020 [EBook #62618] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SELECTED ESSAYS OF PLUTARCH *** - - - - -Produced by Turgut Dincer, David King, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive.) - - - - - - - Selected Essays of Plutarch - - - - - SELECTED ESSAYS OF PLUTARCH - - TRANSLATED WITH INTRODUCTION - - BY - - T. G. TUCKER - - LITT.D. (CAMB.), HON. LITT.D. (DUBLIN) - PROFESSOR OF CLASSICAL PHILOLOGY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF MELBOURNE - - Volume I. - - OXFORD - AT THE CLARENDON PRESS - 1913 - - HENRY FROWDE, M.A. - PUBLISHER TO THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD - LONDON, EDINBURGH, NEW YORK, TORONTO - MELBOURNE AND BOMBAY - - - - - PREFACE - - -The essays here rendered into English have not been selected as the very -best pieces in Plutarch’s _Moralia_, but, first, as typical examples of -his writing in that kind, and, second, as covering between them a -tolerably large field of interesting matter. The _Moralia_ offer us -perhaps the best of all extant material for judging the civilization of -the middle classes of society just before and after the year 100 of our -era. From them and from Pliny’s _Letters_ we are able to form a fairly -complete picture of a large part of that sounder social element which -lay between the froth and the dregs. - -In the Introduction some remarks are offered concerning Plutarch’s -literary style. Here it will suffice to say that the English version -does not seek to be either more formal or more vivacious, either more -imposing or more humorous, than the original. An attempt has been made -to preserve the tone as faithfully as the substance. In making Plutarch -write as he does in the following pages the translator hopes that _il ne -luy a au moins rien presté qui le desmente ou qui le desdie_. It is fair -to add that no modern version of the _Moralia_ has been consulted for -the purposes of this rendering. In the Introduction, however, one cannot -fail to owe much suggestion to Gréard and Volkmann. - -In the spelling of Greek proper names every modern scholar must follow -his own best judgement. It does not follow that, because it is necessary -to say ‘Plato’ and usual to say ‘Parmenio’, it is equally judicious to -say ‘Chilo’. Nor can any safe rule be laid down for a choice between -‘Pisistratus’ and ‘Peisistratus’. Perhaps the most advisable course is -to safeguard, as far as possible, the pronunciation of those who are -unfamiliar with Greek, and the spelling ‘Pheidias’ may do something -towards correcting the common English tendency to pronounce the first -syllable as it is pronounced in ‘fiddle’. Notes upon the proper names -will be found after the text by readers who may require them. - -The text generally adopted is that of Bernardakis in the Teubner series, -but recourse has been had throughout to Wyttenbach, and in a number of -places which are commonly acknowledged to be corrupt the translator has -ventured on a modest emendation of his own. These places are marked in -the translation by an asterisk in the margin, and the readings adopted -will be found at the end of the book in an appendix on the Greek text. -Critics would have saved themselves much trouble if they had observed -that, though hiatus is regularly avoided in the genuine writings of -Plutarch, no hiatus is created by a word ending in iota or upsilon, -vowels which carry a semi-vowel glide in themselves. - -The orthodox order, Greek and Latin titles, and sectional references of -the pieces here chosen are as follows. The English titles belong to the -present version. - - ON BRINGING UP A BOY (περὶ παίδων ἀγωγῆς: _De liberis educandis_), - 1-14 C. - - ON THE STUDENT AT LECTURES (περὶ τοῦ ἀκούειν: _De recta ratione - audiendi_), 37 C-48 D - - ON FAWNER AND FRIEND (πῶς ἄν τις διακρίνειε τὸν κόλακα τοῦ φίλου: - _Quomodo adulator ab amico internoscatur_), 48 E-74 E. - - ADVICE TO MARRIED COUPLES (γαμικὰ παραγγέλματα: _Coniugalia - praecepta_), 138 B-146. - - DINNER-PARTY OF THE SEVEN SAGES (τῶν ἑπτὰ σοφῶν συμπόσιον: _Septem - sapientum convivium_), 146 B-164 D. - - ON GARRULOUSNESS (περί ἀδολεσχίας: _De garrulitate_), 502 B-515. - - CONCERNING BUSYBODIES (περὶ πολυπραγμοσύνης: _De curiositate_), 515 - B-523 B. - - ON MORAL IGNORANCE IN HIGH PLACES (πρὸς ἡγεμόνα ἀπαίδευ τον: _Ad - principem ineruditum_), 779 D-782 F. - - ON OLD MEN IN PUBLIC LIFE (εἰ πρεσβυτέρῳ πολιτευτέον: _An seni - respublica gerenda sit_), 783 B-797 F. - - - INTRODUCTION - - -The age in which Plutarch was educated and in which he wrote his -_Ethica_ is, from the literary point of view, closely similar to the -so-called ‘Augustan’ age of English writing. Of all the periods of -English style and thought, he would probably have found himself most at -home in that of Pope, Addison, and Steele, or in its continuation with -Goldsmith and Johnson. He flourished at a time when intellectual -interests were remarkably keen, if not very profound; when literature, -if for the most part it ventured on no high imaginative flights, did at -least aim at some practical bearing upon the conduct of life; when men -found entertainment, and probably some measure of moral or social help, -in the readable essay or the friendly epistle; when facts, merely as -such, were accepted as interesting if interestingly set forth; and when -Philosophy, if she deigned to keep her feet upon the ground and to speak -as one of the mortals, met with a due welcome from either sex. An -eighteenth-century Plutarch might conceivably have written the moral -papers of Johnson without Johnson’s ponderousness, or have contributed -to the _Spectator_ papers more full than Addison’s of those ‘ideas’ in -which Matthew Arnold found that writer so deficient. He might have -written, though in a prose form, the _Essay on Man_, being meanwhile as -willing as Pope to owe the bulk of his matter to other minds, but not so -willing as Pope to play the expositor without first playing the earnest -and critical student. Plutarch did not, so far as we are aware, try his -hand at verse. To judge by his comments upon poetic duty and by his -quotations—which are regularly taken from the best writers of a -classical age already far remote—his conception of the poetic office was -too exalted to permit of his dabbling in that domain. Had he done so, -and had he followed the fashion of his times, he would perhaps have come -nearer to our ‘Augustans’ even than in his prose. In poetry it was the -age of description, reflection, satire, and moralizing, in the highest -degree sensible, studiously informed with ‘wit’—in the broader Queen -Anne sense of that word—and characterized by extreme deftness of pointed -and quotable phrase, but in no sense creative, imaginative, or inspired. -Its ideal contents consisted of ‘what oft was thought, but ne’er so well -expressed’. The attitudes of both prose-writer and poet belonged to the -intellectual and aesthetic spirit of the period, and so far as that -spirit finds an individual embodiment in the Greek half of the Roman -Empire, it finds him in Plutarch of Chaeronea. - -It would be difficult to suggest with any precision the place which -Plutarch might have filled in Victorian literature. A distinguished and -popular ‘man of letters’ and an educator of public opinion he assuredly -would have been. Given a width of reading, a persistent self-culture, -and a careful but unpedantic style, corresponding to those which he -practised in his own generation, he might have made—as he did then—an -admirable biographer and essayist. He might have been a contributor of -substantial papers to the quarterlies and other higher reviews. He -might, and probably would, have been an eminent lecturer; possibly, with -a broad practical Christianity substituted for his broad practical -Platonism, a preacher not only eminent but also in the best sense -popular. He would certainly have made a brilliant expositor of whatever -he undertook to expound. He was no Plato or Aristotle; he would have -been no Carlyle or Herbert Spencer; but he might have been much that -Macaulay was outside of politics. - -As to the date of Plutarch’s birth there can be no certainty. -Approximately it may be put down as A. D. 48. It is accepted that his -death did not occur before the year 120; it may have taken place -somewhat, though not much, later. Born in the days of Claudius, he lived -through the reigns of Nero, Galba, Otho, Vitellius, Vespasian, Titus, -Domitian, Nerva, and Trajan, and saw at least the first three years of -the rule of Hadrian. He must have been nearly fifty before the last -tyrant of the early Empire fell, but the remainder of his life was spent -under the most beneficent régime, and amid the greatest peace and -prosperity, ever experienced in the ancient world. The _pax Romana_ was -at its profoundest, the sense of security at its fullest; the fact of -general well-being was everywhere most palpable. There was at the same -time, or in consequence, a vigorous revival of intellectual life. At no -period of antiquity would it have been possible for a man of studious -habits and of mild and genial disposition to enjoy a leisure so -undisturbed or a society so free from those forms of preoccupation which -preclude an engrossing interest in things purely of the mind. For the -orator who is fired by the natural heat of democratic politics, for the -patriotic poet from whom thrilling verse must be wrung by the wrongs, -the decline, or the yet unrealized aspirations of his country, there was -indeed no stimulation or scope. But for the cultivation of the -humanities, for the indulgence of a taste for art and _belles-lettres_, -for the satisfaction of intellectual curiosity, for the search after -interesting knowledge—physical, mathematical, antiquarian, historical, -philological—and for the thoughtful observation of men and manners, the -time was almost ideal. In the absence of anxious and absorbing problems -of the present there was leisure for a contemplative and critical survey -of the past, and for making acquaintance with ‘the best that had been -thought and said’ by it. Since the immediate human environment was no -longer distracted and distracting with the clamorous urgencies of -external or internal strife and danger, it was possible to look abroad -over a wider field, to contemplate the more spacious world of man and -his work, of Nature and her facts, beauties, and marvels. It was -therefore the age of the encyclopaedist, the traveller, the commentator, -the describer, the collector—collector of curiosities, of objects of -art, of books, of stories from history, of apophthegms, of pointed and -interesting quotations. The prevailing aim was mental and social -culture. This was the one object of education, however much its -professors might dissent from each other according to the degrees of -philistinism in their respective temperaments. - -The aim of contemporary education—generally realized with more -definiteness than educational aims are wont to be in modern times—was to -turn the pupil into a gentleman, to equip him for the art of living and -conducting himself as such. There could, of course, hardly fail to be -those who regarded this _kalokagathia_ too much from the exterior point -of view, while others fixed their attention more decidedly, and often -perhaps too exclusively, upon the inward and spiritual grace. There were -also considerable differences between the Greek and Roman conceptions of -a gentleman. But in the main this end was universally avowed—to turn the -raw material of the boy into a man both capable and clubbable, whether -from a public or a private standpoint. The things to be sought were the -right accomplishments, the right morals, and the right manners. The -accomplishments included, beyond all else, literary information and -culture, argumentative dexterity, and a capacity for speech. The right -morals were based mainly upon reasoned self-command. The right manners -were chiefly those of urbanity, dignity, and that care of the person, -the voice, the dress, and the deportment upon which all ages have -insisted according to their several lights or tastes. It might be that -the teaching ‘philosopher’, whose concern was with the soundness of the -morals, had his quarrel with the teaching ‘sophist’, whose business was -with the rhetoric and its excellence for exhibition purposes or for the -gaining of various forms of influence. The philosopher might think the -sophist superficial, showy, and often actually pernicious, while the -sophist might look upon the philosopher as visionary, pedantic, and -often a positive clog upon practical efficiency. Nevertheless no -typically cultured person of the day would have questioned that, in -order to be complete—or, as Coleridge calls it, ‘orbicular’—education -must include its due measure of both forms of teaching. - -After his years of infancy the boy, under the supervision of his -_paedagogus_—ideally a slave of superior character, but too often a -person who was merely useless for harder work—passed into a school, -where he was first taught his letters and then proceeded to the reading, -learning, and recital of classical poetry, to the study of music, and to -some acquaintance with elementary arithmetic and geometry. Next, taken -in hand by the rhetorical teacher in a higher school, he was made to -write and deliver descriptions and essays, mostly on trite and unreal -themes of a historical or pseudo-historical nature, to develop his -powers of invention on either side of a chosen topic, and to cultivate a -fastidious diction, pointed phrase, and the elocutionary arts and -graces. From artificial harangues and the ‘speaking of a piece’ he -advanced to the imaginary pleading of forensic cases, in which the law -was often as fictitious as the facts. When, upon reaching the age for -assuming the _toga virilis_, he was emancipated from the custody of the -_paedagogus_ and the discipline of the school, his formal education -commonly ceased. If he proceeded further, as many did, to what may be -considered as the equivalent of a university course, he might elect to -study philosophy, to study ‘sophistic’, or to dally with both in such -measure as seemed likely to set off the abilities or consolidate the -culture of a gentleman. Even in the more mature years of life the -intellectually-disposed grandee had a habit of maintaining near his -person a salaried philosopher as a kind of domestic monitor, and -audiences of wealth and fashion readily gathered in Rome and elsewhere -to listen to lectures on philosophy by professors who properly -understood the art of clear and pleasant exposition. For the most part -the typical Roman, less genuinely impassioned than the Greek for thought -pure and simple, looked upon any ‘specializing’ in philosophy as likely -to lead either to too cloistered a virtue or to the acquisition of -eccentric, if not dangerous, views. A certain modicum of philosophical -knowledge might be an adornment to life, and a certain modicum of -philosophical training might impart a steadiness to character, but the -study must not be pursued to the point at which the student himself -stood in danger of becoming a ‘philosopher’. With the Greeks -philosophical specializing was commonly subject to no such reprehension, -partly because of the inborn Hellenic ardour for study and esteem of -learning, partly because in this domain, even more than in the -rhetorical, the Greeks were the accepted teachers throughout the Roman -sphere. - -This, or nearly this, was the attitude of the educational world in the -first decades of the second century, and it was in this world that -Plutarch of Chaeronea became a figure of special eminence and -distinction. For in whatever light the modern reader may regard Plutarch -as a man of letters, to his own times he was first and foremost an -educator. It is from this point of view that we must consider both his -_Parallel Lives_ and his _Moral Essays_, if we are to perceive in them -that unity of character and purpose which he intended all his work to -possess. - -Plutarch, then, was born about A. D. 48 in the very heart of Greece, at -the comparatively small town of Chaeronea, famous as the scene of the -decisive victory of the Macedonians over the southern Greeks, and also -of that in which the forces of Mithridates were routed by Sulla. His -family must have been of high local standing, and the fact that his -father—a man of cultivated tastes and refined manners—was the owner of -the ‘finest kind of horses’ is enough to show, to those who appreciate -the significance of the word _hippotrophia_, that he must have been -possessed of considerable means. The same conclusion may be drawn both -from what Plutarch himself incidentally reveals concerning his brothers, -Lamprias and Timon, as well as other members of the family circle, and -also from what is known of his own life and upbringing. That as a boy he -passed through the orthodox curriculum, is obvious from his wide -acquaintance with literature and his intelligent, if not particularly -profound, references to both music and mathematics. When of an age to -receive an education in philosophy, he was placed, or placed himself, -chiefly under the distinguished Ammonius, an Alexandrian philosopher of -a broad semi-Platonist, semi-Peripatetic school, who had become -established in a prominent intellectual and public position at Athens. -It was the accepted rule for the student to attend, but not necessarily -to confine himself to, the lectures of a selected teacher. Often he -lived in that teacher’s house, or at least, in intimate connexion -therewith. If the philosopher was strictly conscientious he felt it his -duty to watch over the developing character of his pupil, to visit him -with any deserved reproof,[1] to serve as his father confessor, to -answer his questions, and to meet his moral and intellectual -difficulties. The familiar phrase ‘guide, philosopher, and friend’ -perhaps describes the relations with unusual exactness. We find both -Plutarch and his brother in the company of Ammonius at Delphi when Nero, -in the year 66, graced that city with his imperial and artistic -presence. - -His formal education completed, we discover little of the younger -manhood of Plutarch, except that he must have been in high local -estimation, partly, perhaps, from the position of his family, but -doubtless no less on account of his own conspicuous gifts. Had this not -been the case, he would hardly have been appointed as one of a -delegation of two sent on a mission to the Roman proconsul of the -province. At what age he was first entrusted with civic functions as -aedile, or with a Delphic priesthood (then merely a ceremonial office -open to any layman), or with other public positions, we cannot say. We -can only be sure that to his learning he added a recognizable capacity -for public business. However many hours he may have devoted to study and -to the compilation of those ample commonplace-books which evidently -served him in such good stead, he prided himself on carrying his -philosophic attainments into the local Chamber or on to the local -platform. In his judgement this procedure was not only a vindication of -philosophy and a method of keeping the faculties energetic; it was also -a patriotic duty. - -As has been already said, this was an age of travel. Facilities of -transport were plentiful; the seas and main roads were secure from -pirate or enemy; journeys were at least as expeditious as at any modern -time until the employment of steam. We know of visits made by Plutarch -to Alexandria, various parts of Greece, Rome, and the north of Italy. -Rome he must have visited at least twice, and in this metropolis and -‘epitome of the world’ he made acquaintance with a large circle of men -of distinction, transacted public business (presumably on behalf of his -native town, of which he may have been sent as representative), -delivered lectures,[2] and apparently acted as a sort of consulting -physician to morally perturbed members of Roman society. He must have -spoken always in Greek, for he confesses that—like most other Greek -writers—he had given almost no attention to Latin; nor is any such -avowal needed from a person who, even after looking into the language, -believed _sine patris_ to be the Latin for ‘without a father’. Greek, -however, was then as much the universal language of the cultured as, -until recently, French was the universal accomplishment of fashion, -diplomacy, and the traveller. - -The Rome with which Plutarch was immediately acquainted was the Rome of -Vespasian and of the earlier half of Domitian’s reign. Had his sojourn -in the capital taken place some fifteen or twenty years later, it is in -the highest degree probable that he would have been further known to us -through an acquaintance with Pliny or some other Roman writer of that -date. That a Greek, and especially one who had a difficulty in reading -Latin, should make no mention of contemporary Latin authors—that in his -heart he should rather despise them—is only characteristic of the -Hellenic attitude of the time. But that the amiable Pliny, who has an -appreciative word to say of almost every one within his social horizon, -including comparatively obscure philosophers like Euphrates, should say -nothing of so eminent a figure as Plutarch, amounts to evidence that the -two had never met. A man who could make close friends of consulars like -Sosius Senecio and Mestrius Florus, and who enjoyed an intimacy with -Paccius and Fundanus, could not have failed to win the notice of the -Horace Walpole of his day. Quintilian, Silius, Statius, Martial, Pliny, -Suetonius, and Juvenal were all writing when Plutarch was already the -coryphaeus of Greek culture, and if not one of them mentions his name, -it is because he was living in remote Chaeronea and forgathering only -with his chosen circle of philosophers, men of letters, artists, or -musicians in that town or in Athens, Corinth, and other Greek centres -near at hand. - -To Chaeronea Plutarch must have retired by middle life. There he married -Timoxena, a lady of position, but of quiet tastes, had issue four sons -and a daughter, identified himself with the civic and religious concerns -of his town, delivered lectures, imparted instruction on the lines of a -modified or latitudinarian Platonic philosophy, industriously read the -books in his moderate but useful library, made copious extracts -therefrom, wrote his _Lives_ and those occasional papers known as his -_Ethica_ or _Moral Essays_, and enjoyed the discussion of many a knotty -question—often perhaps of little or no importance beyond the fact of its -forming a problem—in the agreeable society of his relatives or his -cultivated friends and guests. At such gatherings he was the leader, -doubtless dominating the conversation—though in his more courteous -way—somewhat as Johnson dominated the coterie described by Boswell. -Often, we gather, he varied this quiet course of life by means of -excursions to other Greek cities—Athens, Sparta, Aedepsus—where he most -probably delivered an occasional lecture, and where, as we are certain, -he thoroughly enjoyed himself in table-talk.[3] - -That he gave philosophical education, though apparently not of a -systematic and pedagogic kind, to persons of both sexes is known from -his own references to the practice. Whether he did so for money or not, -we cannot tell. The later Platonists by no means felt bound to adopt the -attitude of Socrates and Plato towards the taking of fees. The world had -changed, and the _res angusta_ was often more powerful than a principle -which had ceased to appear entirely rational. But there is every reason -to suppose that Plutarch was a man of independent means; we know further -that a genial frugality was the rule of his household, and that he -entertained a becoming contempt for the obsequious or the advertiser. -The day of the endowed professor, whether of philosophy or sophistic, -was still to dawn for Greece under Marcus Aurelius, and it never dawned -at all for so small a town as Chaeronea. We may take it therefore that, -whether with or without fee or present, Plutarch was able to choose his -own pupils—in all likelihood the sons and daughters of his friends—and -that, in dealing with them or with a wider audience, he maintained the -fullest dignity and independence, and practised all the amiable candour -which he explicitly recommends. - -For any lack of originality, of speculative audacity, of profundity (or -the obscurity which is so often mistaken for that virtue), Plutarch -fully compensates. To his generation he served as a milch-cow of -practical philosophy on its ethical side. He browsed on literature and -thought, secreted the most valuable constituents, and yielded the cream -to his hearers or readers. So far as he belonged to a philosophic -school, it was that of the Old Academy. In other words, he would have -labelled himself a Platonist. It is probable that he was as much -attracted by the superb literary style of Plato, the nature of the man, -and the nobility of his conceptions, as by anything capable of -crystallization into a philosophy. These qualities attracted even the -dilettante, while in the more specially philosophic world time had done -much to refract the real Plato, to extract dogma from him, and to create -a large _Aberglaube_ about his writings. Be that as it may, there is -much in Plato that Plutarch does not accept, and there is much outside -of Plato to which he gives a welcome. Towards Stoics and -Epicureans—whose doctrines, like those of the Christians, would -logically withhold men from public activity—he is distinctly, though -never virulently, hostile, and when his pen ranges itself against -particular schools, it is against these.[4] It is easier, in fact, to -say to what sect Plutarch did not belong than to associate him -definitively with any other. Nevertheless it is as a Platonist that he -would have classed himself, and it is especially by the later -Neo-Platonists that he was quoted as a divinely gifted writer who lent -literary charm and potency to wisdom. So broad, however, was his -teaching, and in many respects so adaptable even to Christianity, that -early writers of the Church had no scruple in borrowing liberally from -him.[5] - -Into whatever shape he may have systematized his views, and however -popular his treatment of them, Plutarch ranked with the philosophers. If -he was opposed to Stoicism and Epicureanism, he was, like other -philosophers, no less opposed to sophistic. To him the representatives -of that art were apt to seem shallow and showy.[6] - -He held, with the Socratics in general, that the basis of right action -is knowledge, and he had no belief in empiricism. Not that he rejected -either established moral views or established religion. He was no -sceptic, still less an atheist. As Friedländer has well argued, there -was no ancient cult of atheism. Plutarch, indeed, is remarkably -receptive in the matter of deities. The Egyptian worship of Isis and -Osiris, which had made great progress throughout the Roman Empire, -appeared to him equally tenable with the worship practised by his own -ancestors. In the polytheism in which he acquiesced, such divinities -were only other forms of those known in Hellas, and he found no -difficulty in reconciling and combining the two sets of notions and -cults. He was deeply tinged with Orientalism, though his culture and his -natural good taste made him despise corybantic demonstrations and what -Friedländer has called ‘dirty mortifications’. He held the Eranian -belief in daemonic agencies, which acted upon mankind from the one side -as the gods did from the other. If he appears to rise to the conception -of ‘God’ in the singular, the word is rather to be taken as denoting the -sum of divine wisdom and beneficent dispensation. Like all the best -minds of his own and many a previous generation, he found moral -difficulties in accepting the characters ascribed to the deities in the -best literature of earlier Greece, and therefore, while approving of the -established education in poetry, he necessarily felt some qualms as to -the possible effects. Poetry served in the schools ‘as introduction to -philosophy, history, geography, and astronomy’, and it had much to do -with the formation of religious and ethical notions. Homer, Pindar, -Sophocles, and Menander were ‘learned and wise’, and boys were brought -to regard them as inspired. Hence Plutarch’s treatise on _Poets as Moral -Teachers of the Young_. The point of view in that essay is not, indeed, -entirely rational. It was not so easy for Plutarch as it is for us to -realize that moral and religious ideas in Greek literature had passed -through an evolution corresponding to the development of intellect and -society. Instead of frankly recognizing the limitations of Homer or the -inconsistencies of the dramatists in this respect, he puts a highly -ingenious constraint upon the connexion between any dubious sentiment -and its context. It is only when he fails in such a _tour de force_ that -he consents to censure the poet. In this procedure he was by no means -the first. The battle of the ‘takers of objection’ (προβληματικοί) and -the ‘solvers of difficulties’ (λυτικοί) was centuries old. That Plutarch -should range himself as far as possible with the solvers is a -circumstance which would naturally follow both from his love of -literature and from his constitutionally reverential temperament. - -As has been often observed, the purpose running through the _Parallel -Lives_ and the _Moral Essays_ is one and the same. The philosophy of -Plutarch was ethical. For logic and dialectic he shows no liking. His -object was to relate philosophy to life, to bring home a philosophy -which could be lived. By philosophy he meant the best conduct of life, -based on an understanding of the nature of virtue—τὸ καλόν, the right, -the honourable, the becoming. From philosophy we are to learn not only -what is due to ourselves, but what is due to the gods, to the laws, to -parents, children, friends, enemies, fellow-citizens, and strangers. The -_Essays_, like those of Seneca or Bacon, deal with separable components -or manifestations of right and wrong character, with duties and -circumstances: the _Lives_ meanwhile afford us concrete examples or -object lessons from history.[7] Yet life, even that of a philosopher, is -not made up entirely of preaching and exhortation, least of all when the -philosopher is at the same time a man of the world and a man of letters. -Plutarch felt a lively interest in all such posers as were mooted in the -talk of the table or of the loungers’ club. He therefore includes among -his occasional papers—whether written by request or under the -fashionable fiction of a request—a number of treatises on physical, -antiquarian, literary, and artistic topics which can hardly be said to -bear with any immediateness upon the ethical perfection of the reader. -As a change, therefore, from the treatment of _Superstition_ or -_Inquisitiveness_ or _The Restraint of Anger_, of _Rules for Married -Couples_ and _Rules of Health_ and rules for _The Student at Lecture_, -he may in a spare moment discuss such matters as _The Face in the Moon_ -or questions in Roman custom. - -The majority of the pieces in the present selection speak for -themselves. With the one exception to be mentioned immediately, they all -bear the impress of the man. There is the same moral broadmindedness and -sobriety, the same shrewd sense of _le bonhomme Plutarque_, the same -faculty for popularizing[8] without descending to vapidity, the same -knack of relieving the sermon by means of anecdote, quotation, or -interesting item of information at the point where the discourse -threatens to become tedious. It is true that the German critic, in his -indefatigable search for the _unecht_, has impugned the authorship of -the _Dinner-Party of the Seven Sages_[9] on grounds unintelligible to -those who do not expect a dinner-table conversation to be a systematic -treatise, and who are satisfied to believe that a mixture of serious -talk, banter, and narrative, and a frequent transition of subject, are -precisely the things for which one would look on such an occasion. Every -feature of the style is Plutarchan, and, if Plutarch did not write the -piece, we can only feel unmixed regret that he did not, and unmixed -surprise that its real author should sacrifice the credit of his -performance. With the article on _The Bringing-up of a Boy_ the case is -different. Wyttenbach has sufficiently pointed out its frequent -feebleness of argument, its turbid arrangement, the exceeding triteness -of its ideas, and its unaccountable omissions. To us moderns it is of -great interest for the light which it throws on the education of the -period, and for its incidental revelations of the conditions of domestic -life and the domestic affections. Otherwise it is a puerile performance -and savours of nothing but the student essay. If it be argued that it is -one of Plutarch’s juvenile works, the answer is that it is unlike him to -be disingenuous; and disingenuous he must be, if in his early youth he -pretends to have ‘often impressed upon parents’ this or that. Antiquity -produced far too many amateur essays in imitation of great -authors—imitations actually ascribed to those authors by a recognized -fiction of the schools—for us to do an injustice to Plutarch when an -easier solution lies so close to our hands. Perhaps, again, the piece on -_Fawner and Friend_[10] suffers from an occasional _longueur_, but there -are few writers who do not at some less felicitous moment perpetrate -paragraphs less vivacious than their average. - -As a stylist Plutarch is apt to be underrated. He is, it is true, no -laborious atticist, and makes no point of writing like a purist in the -classic manner of a Plato or a Lysias. But this does not mean that he is -in the least negligent in either word or sentence. On the contrary, his -words are selected with extreme care, and his sentences—where the text -is sound, as for the most part it is—are rounded off and interlinked as -watchfully as any natural writing need require. It is true that his -vocabulary is large and his expression full, but, when his words are -properly weighed and their metaphorical and other differentiations duly -perceived, no understanding reader will call him verbose.[11] He -displays an immense command of language, but no word plays an idle part, -and if (like Cicero, whom in many respects he resembles) he is fond of -joining what are erroneously called synonyms, it needs but little -appreciation of verbal values to realize that the added words invariably -carry some amplification, some more precise definition, or some emphasis -helpful to a full grasp upon the sense. It is true also that his -sentences are apt to appear—like the sentences of Ruskin’s earlier -days—somewhat lengthy; nevertheless they commonly atone by lucidity of -construction for any demand they may make upon sustained attention.[12] -In a modern English dress they must necessarily be broken up, but a -practised reader of Plutarch finds no more difficulty with them in the -original than he would find with a passage of Demosthenes or Plato. To -one who becomes familiar with them they are at least as agreeable as the -staccato brevities of Seneca. What chiefly exacts some effort from the -reader of Plutarchan Greek is the fact that its words are -extraordinarily charged with metaphor and allusion.[13] His choice of -one word rather than another is always nicely calculated. This truth -once recognized, a reader cannot fail to admire both the consistency -with which the writer maintains his similitude while he is upon it, and -also the copious resources of vocabulary upon which he draws for the -purpose. Meanwhile, despite any length of sentence and fullness of -praise, Plutarch neither irritates with tricks and mannerisms nor -wearies with pedantry and ponderousness. A pedant he could not be. He is -no writer of Johnsonese. To him the best words are those which best suit -their context, and he has no objection whatever to a dash of the -colloquial or a touch of the homely or naïve. It is one of his -characteristic merits that he knows when to take the higher and when the -lower road of diction. He also knows when he is in danger of stylistic -monotony. Plutarch was a teacher, but, like all truly intelligent -members of that profession, he recognized that the most uninspiring -attitude to adopt is the severely and unremittingly pedagogic. ‘The -knack of style,’ it has been said, ‘is to write like a human being,’ and -Plutarch, a professor of humanity without a chair, is always and -entirely human. That his pen must have moved with extraordinary facility -is evident from the number of his publications. Apart from his _Lives_ -(of which not all are extant), his _Moralia_ include over eighty pieces, -long or short, and it is certain that many others had disappeared[14] -before the present collection became available in its eleventh-century -MS. - -It is not here implied that he is never culpable, never over-loaded. -There are times, though rare ones, at which we feel that his memory or -his notebook has been unduly exploited. We feel that he might have -spared us an illustration which does not illustrate or a similitude -which is deficient in similarity. To a certain extent he is a Euphuist, -and though Guevara perhaps owed nothing directly to him (as he did to -Seneca[15]), it is manifest that Plutarch sometimes strains a point in -order to achieve an over-ingenious comparison. The contagion of the -thing, like that of Euphuism in the Elizabethan age, was in the air, and -Plutarch assuredly does not err more often or more heinously with one -generation than Shakespeare did with another. Wide reading and natural -fecundity easily slip into sins which narrow resources and slow -invention are impotent to commit. - - * * * * * - -There are numerous signs that the pendulum of classical interest is -swinging in the direction of the literature of the early Empire. The -exclusive _toujours perdrix_ of the Attic and Ciceronian periods has -apparently begun to jade the palate, and writers like Seneca and -Plutarch are coming into their own once more. There was a time when -these authors were perhaps better known than any others. That they were -worthy of prime consideration is manifest from the immense influence -which they exercised upon the ardent and inquiring spirits of the -sixteenth and following centuries, in England no less than on the -Continent. Authors who could make such an appeal to Montaigne, to the -Elizabethan dramatists, to Bacon, or to Jeremy Taylor,[16] are surely -not to be despised because they belong stylistically to a ‘silver’ age, -or because their strength lies mostly in the fact that they are a mine -of ideas, wise saws, and pointed moral instances. Seneca, as being a -writer of Latin, was naturally the earlier and more widely read,[17] but -from the publication of the _editio princeps_ of Plutarch by Aldus in -1509 our author sprang into peculiar estimation among the recovered -spirits of antiquity. It was, however, due to Amyot that both his -_Lives_ and his _Essays_ became accessible to those who had little or no -Greek. The _Essays_ were rendered into idiomatic French by that -admirable translator in the year 1572,[18] and Montaigne was by no means -the only reader among _nous autres ignorans_ who made the Plutarch of -Amyot his breviary, and who ‘drew his water incessantly’ from him. It -was not the literary etiquette of the Elizabethan age to acknowledge all -the obligations one might owe even to a contemporary, much less to the -ancients, and the stores of Plutarch might be rifled without much fear -of detection, and certainly with no fear of reproach. When Lyly, in -_Euphues and his Ephoebus_,[19] takes it in hand to bring up a child in -the way he should go, he is in a large measure simply translating, -expanding, and emphasizing the pseudo-Plutarch on the _Bringing-up of a -Boy_ and interspersing the discourse with pickings from other essays, -particularly that on _Garrulousness_.[20] Montaigne, of course, with his -bland unreserve, credits Plutarch via Amyot with a multitude of -observations, while Bacon, when following the new vogue of the essay, -sometimes refers us to ‘Plutarke’, and at least on one occasion informs -us that ‘Mountaigny saith’ a thing which on reference to the said -‘Mountaigny’ we find to be Plutarchan. - -Though it is no part of the present Introduction to examine in detail -the influence of the philosopher of Chaeronea upon modern writers, or to -make an inventory of his contributions to English literature, it is at -least worth asking whether an author whom genius once delighted to -exploit, and from whom so many good things have filtered down to us -through various channels, may not be well worth reading at first hand. -To Professor Mahaffy[21] Plutarch ‘is a pure and elevating writer, full -of precious information, and breathing a lofty moral tone’, and to -Professor Gilbert Murray[22] he is ‘one of the most tactful and charming -of writers, and one of the most lovable characters in antiquity’. Said -Emerson[23]: ‘Plutarch will be perpetually rediscovered from time to -time as long as books last.’ - -Footnote 1: - - The reproof might ostensibly be general, but its particular - application was readily felt. Musonius, we are told by Epictetus, made - all his hearers feel ‘as if some one had been talking to him about - them’. - -Footnote 2: - - See _Concerning Busybodies_, 522 E. - -Footnote 3: - - Over and above his resemblances to Macaulay as a writer of essays and - biographical history, there is a distinct similarity between their - conversational tastes. We can imagine a Plutarch fully at home with - Macaulay at one of those astonishing early Victorian breakfast-parties - where a man might be asked if he ‘knew his Popes’, and where he might - be endured while he recited them. Plutarch’s _Table-Talk_, like his - _Dinner-Party of the Seven Sages_, reveals for contemporary Greek - society the same deliberate cult of intellectual conversation - sharpened by challenge and debate. In such conversation he must - himself have played a conspicuous part. Nevertheless, it may fairly be - gathered that the Greek or Graeco-Roman interlocutors in the reign of - Trajan were the more ingenuously athirst for reciprocal enlightenment, - however dubiously we may regard the value of the information or - misinformation actually gained. Nor is it easy to believe that - Plutarch would have thought it etiquette to indulge in the protracted - monologues to which the more modern society submitted with such grace - as it best could. - -Footnote 4: - - e.g. in his _De repugnantiis Stoicorum_ and his _Non posse suaviter - vivi secundum Epicurum_. Yet, as Mahaffy says, ‘it would be hard to - say whether the number of Stoic dogmas which he rejects exceeds that - which he quotes with approval’ (_The Greek World under Roman Sway_, - pp. 300 sqq.). - -Footnote 5: - - Volkmann names in particular Clement of Alexandria and Basil. - -Footnote 6: - - This does not mean that he had no friends among the rhetorical - teachers (the contrary is shown by his reference to ‘our Niger’ in - _praec. san._, § 16), but only that he distrusted the type. He refused - to approve of a fluent and polished style as an end in itself. Pliny - describes how the amazingly voluble Isaeus would offer his audience a - choice of subject and allow it to dictate the side which he should - take. He would then rise and demonstrate his extemporizing powers with - much show of rhetorical ornament. - -Footnote 7: - - Volkmann says of the _Lives_, ‘Das Werthvolle an ihnen sind nicht die - historischen Details, die er giebt, sondern die eingestreuten - Reflexionen, die ethischen Betrachtungen, das Eingehen auf - individuelle Stimmungen und Leidenschaften der grossen Männer.’ - -Footnote 8: - - _Aulicis tantum scripsit, non doctis_, says Scaliger. - -Footnote 9: - - Volkmann guesses that it is _ein Produkt der späteren Sophistik_. If - so, we may congratulate the Sophist on his perfect reproduction of - Plutarch’s style and of his non-sophistic tone. - -Footnote 10: - - Bacon’s Essay _Of Followers and Friends_ owes almost nothing to - Plutarch beyond the title. We do, however, find him borrowing the - words ‘for there is no such Flatterer as a Man’s selfe’. - -Footnote 11: - - As Volkmann happily puts it, he writes ‘with comfortable breadth’. - -Footnote 12: - - The sentences would doubtless have been easier still if Plutarch had - not felt bound to follow the fashion of the time and elaborately avoid - hiatus. - -Footnote 13: - - Perhaps this is why Plutarch, as seen through Amyot, appeared to - Montaigne ‘close and thorny,’ while his sense was nevertheless - ‘closely-jointed and pithily-continued’. - -Footnote 14: - - Stobaeus (sixth century) had access to much of Plutarch that is now - lost. - -Footnote 15: - - See an observation of Professor Summers, _Seneca Select Letters_, - Introduction, p. lxxiv. - -Footnote 16: - - Plutarch ‘is the theme of more than 230 allusions or direct references - on the part of Jeremy Taylor’ (Sandys, _A History of Classical - Scholarship_, i. 300). - -Footnote 17: - - He was familiar reading of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, and - appears in the _Gesta Romanorum_. Later the _Adagia_ of Erasmus draw - freely upon him. - -Footnote 18: - - ‘Il a en quelque sorte créé Plutarque,’ says Demogeot. - -Footnote 19: - - _Euphues_ appeared in 1579. Jusserand (_The English Novel in the Time - of Shakespeare_, p. 127) remarks that Euphues ‘addresses moral - epistles to his fellow men to guide them through life’, but he appears - to be unaware that Lyly borrowed this object, as well as so large a - quantity of his matter, from Plutarch. - -Footnote 20: - - We meet, for example, with the story of Zeno, ‘the olde man in Athens - that amiddest the pottes could hold his peace.’ - -Footnote 21: - - _History of Greek Classical Literature_, ii. 427. - -Footnote 22: - - _The Literature of Ancient Greece_, p. 396. - -Footnote 23: - - Quoted by Sandys (_A History of Classical Scholarship_, i. 300). - - - - - CONTENTS - - - Dinner-Party of the Seven Sages 27 - - On Old Men in Public Life 65 - - Advice to Married Couples 96 - - Concerning Busybodies 113 - - On Garrulousness 130 - - On the Student at Lectures 157 - - On Moral Ignorance in High Places 180 - - Fawner and Friend 187 - - On Bringing up a Boy 241 - - Notes on Persons and Places 267 - - - Appendix: Notes on the Greek Text 295 - - - - -_In the following imaginary ‘Dinner-Party of the Seven Sages’ the -supposed narrator is a certain Diocles of Corinth, a professional -diviner and expiator of omens connected with the court of Periander, who -was despot of Corinth from 625_ B. C. _to 585_ B. C. _The dramatic date -is towards the close of that period. It must not be assumed that -Plutarch is pretending to be historical, and anachronisms must be -disregarded._ - -_The Seven Sages are here Thales, Bias, Pittacus, Solon, Chilon, -Cleobulus, Anacharsis (see Notes on Persons and Places). The list varies -with different writers, but Thales, Bias, Pittacus, and Solon are -invariably, and Chilon is regularly, included in the canon. Periander is -himself sometimes made one of the number, and a certain Myson also -appears._ - -_The qualities which constituted a ‘sage’ in this connexion were those -of keen practical sense and insight, and a power of crystallizing the -results into pithy maxims. He was not a ‘philosopher’ in the later sense -of that word._ - - - - - DINNER-PARTY OF THE SEVEN SAGES - - -We [Sidenote: 146 B] may be sure, Nicarchus, that in process of time -facts will become so obscured as to be altogether beyond ascertainment, -seeing that in the present instance, where they are so fresh and recent, -the world accepts accounts of them which are pure concoctions. In the -first place, the party at dinner did not consist—as you have been -told—merely of seven, but of [Sidenote: C] more than twice that number. -I was myself included, both as being professionally intimate with -Periander and as the host of Thales, who had taken up his quarters with -me by Periander’s directions. In the second place, whoever related the -conversation to you, reported it incorrectly. Presumably he was not one -of the company. Inasmuch, therefore, as I have plenty of spare time and -my years do not warrant me in putting off the narrative with any -confidence, I will—since you are all so eager—tell you the whole story -from the beginning. - -Periander [Sidenote: D] had prepared his entertainment, not in the city, -but in the banquet-hall at Lechaeum, close to the temple of Aphrodite, -the festival being in her honour. For after having refused to sacrifice -to Aphrodite since the love-affair which led to his mother’s suicide, he -was now for the first time, thanks to certain dreams on the part of -Melissa, induced to pay honour and court to that goddess. - -Inasmuch as it was summer-time and the road all the way to the sea was -crowded with people and vehicles, and therefore full of dust and a -confusion of traffic, each of the invited guests was supplied with a -carriage and pair handsomely caparisoned. Thales, however, on seeing the -carriage at the door, simply [Sidenote: E] smiled and sent it away. -Accordingly we turned off the road and proceeded to walk quietly through -the fields, a third member of our party being Niloxenus of Naucratis, a -man of high character who had formed a close acquaintance with Solon and -Thales in Egypt. His presence was due to his having been sent on another -mission to Bias. Of its purpose he was himself unaware, although he -suspected that the sealed document of which he was the bearer contained -a second problem for solution. He had been instructed, in case Bias -could do nothing, to show the missive to the wisest of the Greeks. ‘It -is a godsend to me,’ [Sidenote: F] said Niloxenus, ‘to find you all -here, and, as you perceive’—showing us the paper—‘I am bringing the -letter to the dinner.’ At this Thales remarked with a laugh, ‘In case of -trouble, once more to Priene![24] For Bias will solve the difficulty, as -he did the first, without assistance.’ ‘What do you mean,’ said I, ‘by -“the first”?’ ‘The king,’ replied Thales, ‘sent him an animal for -sacrifice, and bade him pick out and send back the worst and best -portion of the meat. Thereupon our friend, with excellent judgement, -took out and sent the tongue; and he is manifestly held in high repute -and admiration in consequence.’ [Sidenote: 147] ‘That is not the only -reason,’ said Niloxenus, ‘Bias does not object—as you do—to be, and to -be called, a friend of kings. In your own case the king not only admires -you on general grounds, but he was hugely delighted with your method of -measuring the pyramid. Without any fuss or the need of any instrument, -you stood your stick at the end of the shadow thrown by the pyramid, and -the fall of the sunlight making two triangles, you showed that the -pyramid stood in the same ratio to the stick as the one shadow to the -other.[25] But, as I observed, you were charged with being a king-hater, -and [Sidenote: B] certain outrageous expressions of yours concerning -despots were reported to him. For example, when asked by the Ionian -Molpagoras what was the strangest sight you had seen, you answered, “An -aged despot.” Again, at a drinking-party, when the talk fell upon -animals, you stated that among wild animals the worst was the despot, -and among tame animals the sycophant. However much a king may claim to -differ from a despot, he does not welcome language of that kind.’ ‘Nay,’ -said Thales, ‘the former remark belongs to Pittacus, who once made it in -a playful attack on Myrsilus. My own observation [Sidenote: C] was that -I should regard as a strange sight, not an aged despot, but an aged -navigator. None the less, my feelings at the altered version are those -of the young fellow who, after throwing at the dog and hitting his -step-mother, remarked, “Not so bad, after all.” Yes, I regarded Solon as -very wise in refusing to act the despot. Our Pittacus also, if he had -kept clear of monarchy, would not have said that “_it is hard to be -good_”. As for Periander, his despotism may be regarded as an inherited -disease, from which he is making a creditable recovery, inasmuch as up -to the present he keeps wholesome company, cultivates the society of -sensible men, and will have nothing to say to that “cutting down of the -tall poppies” suggested by my fellow-countryman [Sidenote: D] -Thrasybulus. A despot who desires to rule over slaves rather than men is -no better than a farmer who is ready to reap a harvest of darnel and -cammock in preference to wheat and barley. Among the many undesirable -features of despotic rule, the one desirable element is the honour and -glory, in a case where the subjects are good but the ruler is better, -and where they are great but he is regarded as greater. If he is -satisfied with safety without honour, his right course would be to rule -over a herd of sheep, horses, or oxen, not over human beings. However, -[Sidenote: E] your visitor here has launched us upon an inopportune -topic. We are walking to a dinner, and he should have remembered to moot -questions suited to the occasion. For you will doubtless admit that -there is a certain preparation necessary for the guest as well as for -the host. The people of Sybaris, I understand, send their invitations to -the women a year in advance, so that they may have plenty of time to -prepare their dress and their jewelry before coming to dinner. In my own -opinion one who is to play the diner in the proper way requires still -more time for real and true preparation, inasmuch as it is harder to -arrive at the appropriate adornment of character than at the useless and -superfluous adornment of the person. When a man of sense comes to -[Sidenote: F] dinner, he does not bring himself to be filled like a -vessel, but to contribute something either serious or sportive. He is to -listen or talk about such matters as the occasion asks of the company, -if they are to find pleasure in each other’s society. An inferior dish -may be put aside, and if a wine is poor, one may take refuge with the -Nymphs.[26] But when your table-companion is an ill-bred bore who gives -you a headache, he utterly ruins the enjoyment of any wine or dish or -musical entertainment. [Sidenote: 148] Nor have you the resource of an -emetic for that kind of annoyance, but in some cases the mutual -antipathy lasts all your life, an insulting or angry incident at your -wine having resulted in a kind of nausea. Chilon was therefore quite -right when, on receiving his invitation yesterday, he only accepted -after ascertaining the full list of the guests. As he remarked, when -people cannot help going to sea or on a campaign, and a shipmate or -tentmate proves disagreeable, they are obliged to put up with him; but -no sensible man will form one of an indiscriminate wine-party. The mummy -which the Egyptians regularly bring in and exhibit at their parties, -bidding you [Sidenote: B] remember that you will very soon be like it, -may be an unwelcome and unseasonable boon-companion; yet the custom is -not without its point. Even if it may not incite you to drink and enjoy -yourself, it does incite to mutual liking and regard. “Life,” it urges, -“is short in duration; do not make it long by vexations.”’ - -After talk of this nature on the way we arrived at the house. As we had -anointed ourselves, Thales decided not to take a bath, but proceeded to -visit and inspect the race-tracks, the wrestling-grounds, and the -handsomely decorated park along the shore. Not that he was greatly taken -with anything of that kind, but he would not appear to despise or slight -Periander’s display [Sidenote: C] of public spirit. The other guests, as -soon as each had anointed himself or bathed, were being led by the -servants through the cloister into the dining-room. Anacharsis, however, -was seated in the cloister, and in front of him stood a girl, who was -parting his hair with her hands. Upon her running to meet Thales in the -frankest possible manner, he kissed her and said with a laugh, ‘That’s -right: make our foreign visitor beautiful, so that he may not frighten -us by looking like a savage, when he is really a most civilized person.’ -Upon my asking him who the child was, he replied, ‘Don’t you know the -wise and far-famed [Sidenote: D] Eumetis? That, by the way, is her -father’s name for her, though most people call her Cleobuline, after -him.’ ‘I presume,’ said Niloxenus, ‘your compliment refers to the girl’s -cleverness in constructing riddles. Some of her puzzles have found their -way as far as Egypt.’ ‘Not at all,’ rejoined Thales. ‘Those are merely -the dice with which, on occasion, she plays a match for fun in -conversation. There is more in her than that: an admirable spirit, a -practical intellect, and an amiable character, by which she renders her -father’s rule over his fellow country-men more gentle and popular.’ -‘Yes,’ remarked Niloxenus, ‘one [Sidenote: E] can see it by looking at -her simplicity and unpretentiousness. But how is it she is attending to -Anacharsis so affectionately?’ ‘Because,’ was the answer, ‘he is a man -of virtue and learning, and has given her zealous and ungrudging -instruction in the Scythian manner of dieting and purging the sick. I -should say that at the present moment, while looking after the gentleman -so amiably, she is getting some lesson and talking it over.’ - -As we were just approaching the dining-room, we were met by Alexidemus -of Miletus, the natural son of the despot Thrasybulus. [Sidenote: F] He -was coming out in a state of excitement and angrily muttering something -which conveyed no meaning to us. When he saw Thales he collected himself -a little, stopped, and said: ‘Look how we have been insulted by -Periander! He would not allow me to take ship home when I was anxious to -do so, but begged me to stay for the dinner; and, when I come to it, he -assigns me a degrading place at table, and lets Aeolians, islanders, and -goodness knows whom, take precedence of Thrasybulus. For since I was -commissioned by Thrasybulus, it is evident that, in my person, he means -to insult and humiliate [Sidenote: 149] him, by treating him as if he -were nobody.’ ‘I see,’ said Thales, ‘what you are afraid of. In Egypt -they say of the stars, according to their increase or decrease of -altitude in the regions they traverse, that they become ‘better’ or -‘worse’ than themselves. You are afraid that in your own case your place -at table may mean a similar loss of brightness and eminence, and you -propose to show less spirit than the Lacedaemonian, who, upon being put -by the director in the last place in a chorus, remarked, “A capital way -of making even this place one of honour.” When we take our places,’ -continued Thales, ‘we should not ask who have seats above us, but how we -are to make ourselves agreeable to our immediate neighbours. As a means -of immediately securing a beginning of friendly feeling on their part, -we should cultivate, [Sidenote: B] or rather bring with us, instead of -irritation, a tone of satisfaction at being placed in such good company. -The man who is annoyed with his place at table is more annoyed with his -next neighbour than with his host, and he earns the dislike of both.’ -‘That,’ retorted Alexidemus, ‘is mere talk. In practice I notice that -even you sages are greedy for precedence’—and therewith he passed us and -went off. Upon our expressing surprise at the man’s peculiar behaviour, -Thales said, ‘A crazy person, constitutionally wrong-headed. When he was -still a mere lad and a quantity of valuable perfume had been presented -to Thrasybulus, he emptied it into a big wine-cooler, poured in some -neat wine, and drank it off, thereby bringing ill-odour upon [Sidenote: -C] Thrasybulus instead of the contrary.’ - -At this point an attendant came up and said, ‘Periander requests you to -take Thales here along with you and examine an object which has just -been brought to him, to see whether it is a mere matter of accident or -signifies something portentous. He appears himself to be greatly -agitated, regarding it as a pollution, and as a smirch upon the -festival.’ Whereupon he proceeded to lead us to one of the apartments -off the garden. Here a youth, apparently a herdsman, still beardless and -with considerable handsomeness of person, opened a leather wrapper and -displayed a baby thing which he told us was the offspring of a mare. The -upper parts, as far as the neck and arms, were human, the lower parts -equine; its voice when it cried was that [Sidenote: D] of a new-born -child. Niloxenus, exclaiming ‘Heaven help us!’ turned away from the -sight; but Thales took a prolonged look at the young fellow, and with a -smile remarked—in accordance with his regular habit of twitting me in -connexion with my profession—‘I suppose, Diocles, you are thinking of -setting your purifications to work and giving trouble to the averting -powers, in the belief that a great and terrible thing has happened?’ ‘Of -course I am, Thales,’ said I, ‘for the token indicates strife and -discord, and I am afraid it may affect no less a matter than marriage -and its issue. As you see, before we have expiated the original offence, -the goddess is giving warning of a second.’ [Sidenote: E] To this Thales -made no answer, but began to move off—laughing. Upon Periander coming to -the door to meet us, and putting questions as to what we had seen, -Thales turned from me, took him by the hand, and said: ‘Anything Diocles -bids you do, you will perform at your leisure. My own advice is to be -more careful as to your herdsmen.’ On hearing this speech Periander -appeared to be greatly delighted, for he burst out laughing and hugged -and kissed Thales, who observed: ‘I should say, Diocles, that the sign -has found its fulfilment already; for you see what a serious misfortune -has befallen us in the [Sidenote: F] refusal of Alexidemus to be present -at dinner.’ - -When we had actually entered the room, Thales, speaking in a louder -tone, said: ‘And where was the seat to which the gentleman objected?’ -Upon the place being pointed out, he went round and occupied it himself, -taking me with him, and remarking: ‘Why, I would have paid something for -the [Sidenote: 150] privilege of sharing the same table with Ardalus.’ -The Ardalus in question was a Troezenian, a flute-player and priest of -the Ardalian Muses, whose worship was established by the original -Ardalus of Troezen. Thereupon Aesop—who happened to have arrived -recently on a simultaneous mission from Croesus to Periander and to the -god at Delphi, and was present on a low stool close to where Solon was -reclining above—said, ‘A Lydian mule, having caught sight of his -reflection in a river and conceived an admiration for the size and -beauty of his body, gave a toss of his mane and set out to run like a -horse; but after a while, reflecting that he was the son of an ass, he -quickly [Sidenote: B] stopped his career and dropped his pride and -conceit.’ At this Chilon, speaking in broad Laconian, observed: ‘Ye’re -slow yersel, an’ ye’re running the mule’s gait.’ - -At this point Melissa came in and reclined beside Periander, whereas -Eumetis sat at her dinner. - -Thales, addressing me—I was on the couch above Bias—said: ‘Diocles, why -don’t you inform Bias that our visitor from Naucratis has come to him -again with royal problems to solve, so that he may be sober and capable -of looking after himself when he receives the communication?’ Bias -replied: ‘Nay, our friend here has been trying for a long time to -frighten me with that warning. But I am aware that, besides his other -capacities, Dionysus is styled _Solver_[27] in right of wisdom. I feel -[Sidenote: C] no fear, therefore, that my being “filled with the god” -will cause me to make a less hopeful fight of it.’ - -While jokes of this kind were passing between these great men over their -dinner, I was noticing that the meal was unusually frugal, and I was led -to meditate on the fact that to invite and entertain wise and good men -means no additional expense, but rather a curtailment of it, since it -eliminates fancy dishes, out-of-the-way perfumes and sweetmeats, and -lavish decantings of costly wines. Though Periander, being a despot and -a person [Sidenote: D] of wealth and power, indulged in such things -pretty nearly every day, on this occasion he was trying to impress the -company with a show of simplicity and modest expenditure. He put aside -and out of sight not only the display usually made in other things, but -also that used by his wife, whom he made present herself in modest and -inexpensive attire. - -The tables were removed; Melissa caused garlands to be distributed; and -we poured libations. After the flute-girl had played a short piece to -accompany them, and had then withdrawn, Ardalus, addressing Anacharsis, -asked if there were any flute-girls among the Scythians. Instantly he -replied, ‘No, nor [Sidenote: E] yet vines.’ When Ardalus rejoined: -‘Well, but the Scythians have gods;’ ‘Quite true,’ said he: ‘gods who -understand human language. We are not like the Greeks, who imagine they -speak better than the Scythians, and yet believe that the gods would -rather listen to pieces of bone and wood.’ ‘Ah,’ said Aesop, ‘what if -you knew, Sir Visitor, that the present-day flute-makers have given up -using the bones of fawns and have taken to those of asses? They maintain -that these sound better—a fact which explains Cleobuline’s riddle upon -the Phrygian flute: [Sidenote: F] - - _With a shin that was horned - Did an ass that was dead - Deal a blow on my ear._ - -It is a wonderful thing that the ass, who is otherwise particularly -crass and unmusical, should supply us with a bone particularly fine and -melodious.’ ‘Now that,’ said Niloxenus, ‘is precisely the objection -which the Busirites bring against us of Naucratis; for asses’ bones for -flutes are already in use with us. With them, on the contrary, it is -profanation even to listen to a trumpet, because it sounds like the bray -of an ass. You know, I presume, that the ass is treated contemptuously -by the Egyptians because of Typhon?’ - -A silence here occurred, and, as Periander perceived that Niloxenus, -though eager to enter upon the subject, was shy [Sidenote: 151] of doing -so, he said: ‘To my mind, gentlemen, it is a commendable practice, -whether of community or ruler, to take the business of strangers first -and of citizens afterwards. On the present occasion, therefore, I -propose that for a short time we suspend any topics of our own, as being -local and familiar, and that we treat ourselves as an Assembly and -‘grant an audience’ to those royal communications from Egypt, of which -our excellent friend Niloxenus is the bearer to Bias, and which Bias -desires that you should join him in considering.’ ‘Yes,’ said Bias: ‘for -where, or with whom, could one more readily face the risk—if it must be -faced—of answering in a case like this, especially when the king’s -instructions are that, though [Sidenote: B] the matter is to begin with -me, it is to go the round of you all?’ Niloxenus thereupon offered him -the document, but Bias bade him open it himself and read every word to -the whole company. The contents of the letter were to the following -effect: - - AMASIS, KING OF EGYPT, TO BIAS, WISEST OF THE GREEKS - - _The King of Ethiopia is engaged in matching his wits against mine. - Hitherto he has had the worst of it, but has finally concocted a - terrible poser in the shape of a command that I should ‘drink up the - sea’. If I meet it with a solution, I am to have a number of his - villages and towns. If not, I am to surrender the cities in the - neighbourhood of Elephantine. Do you, therefore, take the matter - [Sidenote: C] in hand and send Niloxenus back to me at once. Any - return which friends or countrymen of yours require from me will be - made without hesitation on my part._ - -This part of the letter having been read, Bias was not long in -answering. After a few moments of meditation and a brief conversation -with Cleobulus, who was close to him at table, he said: ‘Do you mean to -say, my friend from Naucratis, that Amasis, though reigning over so many -subjects and possessed of so large and excellent a country, will be -ready to drink up the sea in order to win a few miserable insignificant -villages?’ ‘Take it that he will, Bias,’ replied Niloxenus, ‘and -consider how it can be done.’ ‘Very well then,’ said he: ‘let him tell -[Sidenote: D] the Ethiopian _to stop the rivers that run into the ocean, -while he is himself drinking up the sea at present existing_. The -command applies to the sea as it is, not as it is to be later on.’ Bias -no sooner made this speech than Niloxenus was so delighted that he -rushed to embrace and kiss him. After the rest of the company had -cheered and applauded, Chilon said with a laugh, ‘Sir Visitor from -Naucratis, before the sea is all drunk up and lost, set sail and tell -Amasis not to be asking how to make away with all that brine, but rather -how to render his kingship sweet and drinkable for his subjects. Bias is -a past master at teaching [Sidenote: E] such a lesson, and, if Amasis -learns it, he will have no further occasion for his golden footpan[28] -in dealing with the Egyptians. They will all be courting and making much -of him for his goodness, even if he is declared to be of a thousand -times lower birth than he actually is.’ ‘Yes, and by the way,’ said -Periander, ‘it would be a good thing if all—“man after man”, as Homer -has it—were to contribute a similar offering to His Majesty. A bonus of -the kind thrown in would not only make the returns on his venture more -valuable to him, but would also be the best thing in the world for us.’ - -Chilon thereupon asserted that Solon was the right man to [Sidenote: F] -make a beginning on the subject, not only because he was senior to all -the rest and was in the place of honour at the table, but because, -having legislated for the Athenians, he held the greatest and completest -position as a ruler. At this Niloxenus remarked quietly to me, ‘People -believe a good deal that is false, Diocles; and they mostly take a -delight in inventing for themselves, and in accepting with avidity from -others, mischievous stories about wise men. For instance, it was -reported [Sidenote: 152] to us in Egypt that Chilon had cancelled his -friendship and his relations of hospitality with Solon, because Solon -declared that laws were alterable.’ At this I answered, ‘The story is -ridiculous; for in that case Chilon ought to begin by disclaiming -Lycurgus and all his laws, as having altered the whole Lacedaemonian -constitution.’ - -After a brief delay Solon said: ‘In my opinion a king or despot would -win most renown _by furnishing his fellow-citizens with a popular, in -place of a monarchical, government_.’ The second to speak was Bias, who -said: ‘_By identifying his behaviour with the laws of his country._’ -Thales came next with the statement that he considered a ruler happy -‘_if he died naturally of old age_‘. Fourth Anacharsis: ‘_If good sense -never failed him._’ [Sidenote: *] Fifth Cleobulus: ‘_If he trusted none -of those about him._’ Sixth Pittacus: ‘_If the ruler could get his -subjects to fear, not him, but [Sidenote: B] for him._’ Next Chilon said -that ‘_the ruler’s conceptions should never be mortal, but always -immortal_‘. - -After hearing these dicta, we claimed that Periander himself should -express an opinion. With anything but cheerfulness, and pulling a -serious face, he replied: ‘Well, the opinion I have to add is that every -one of the views stated practically disqualifies a man of sense from -being a ruler.’ Whereupon Aesop, as if in a spirit of reproof, said, -‘You ought, of course, to have discussed this subject by yourselves, and -not to have delivered an attack upon rulers under pretence of being -their advisers and friends.’ [Sidenote: C] ‘Don’t you think,’ said -Solon, taking him by the head and smiling, ‘that one can make a ruler -more moderate and a despot more reasonable by persuading him that it is -better to decline such a position than to hold it?’ ‘And pray who,’ he -replied, ‘is likely to follow you in the matter rather than the God, -whose opinion is given in the oracle delivered to yourself: - - _Blessèd the city that hearkens to one commander’s proclaiming._’ - -‘True,’ said Solon, ‘but, as a matter of fact, the Athenians, though -with a popular government, do listen to one proclaimer [Sidenote: D] and -ruler in the shape of the law. You have a wonderful gift at -understanding ravens and jackdaws, but your hearing of the [Sidenote: *] -voice of modesty is indistinct. While you think that a state is best off -when it listens, as the God says, to “one”, you believe that the best -convivial party is that in which everybody talks on every subject.’ -‘Yes,’ said Aesop, ‘for you have not yet legislated to the effect that -“_a slave shall not get tipsy_” is to stand on the same footing with -those Athenian ordinances of yours which say “_a slave shall not indulge -in love or in dry-rubbing with oil_”.’[29] At this Solon broke into a -laugh, and Cleodorus the physician remarked: ‘But, in one respect, -talking when the wine is taking effect does stand on the same footing -with dry-rubbing—it is very pleasant.’ ‘Consequently,’ [Sidenote: E] -broke in Chilon, ‘it is the more to be avoided.’ ‘Yes,’ said Aesop -again,[30] ‘Thales did appear to recommend getting old as quickly as -possible.’ Periander laughed, and said: ‘Aesop, we have been properly -punished for dropping into other questions before bringing forward the -whole of those from Amasis, as we proposed. Pray look at the rest of the -letter, Niloxenus, and take advantage of the gentlemen being all here -together.’ ‘As for that,’ replied Niloxenus, ‘whereas the command sent -by the Ethiopian can only be called a “doleful [Sidenote: F] -dispatch”—as Archilochus would say—your friend Amasis has shown a fine -and more civilized taste in setting such problems. He bade him name the -oldest thing, the most beautiful, the greatest, the wisest, the most -universal, and—not stopping there—the most beneficent, the most harmful, -the most powerful, and the easiest.’ ‘Well, and did his answers give the -solution in each case?’ ‘His replies were these,’ said Niloxenus. ‘It is -[Sidenote: 153] for you to listen and judge; for the king is very -anxious neither to be guilty of pettifogging with the answers, nor to -let any slip on the part of the answerer escape without refutation. I -will read you the replies as given. _What is the oldest thing?_—_Time._ -_What the greatest?_—_The universe._ _What the wisest?_—_Truth._ _What -the most beautiful?_—_Light._ _What the most universal?_—_Death._ _What -the most beneficent?_—_God._ _What the most harmful?_—_Evil genius._ -_What the strongest?_—_Fortune._ _What the easiest?_—_That which is -pleasant._’ - -Well, Nicarchus, after the reading of this second passage there was a -silence. Then Thales asked Niloxenus if Amasis was satisfied with the -solutions. Upon his replying that he had [Sidenote: B] accepted some, -but was dissatisfied with others, Thales said, ‘And yet not one of them -is unassailable. There are great blunders and signs of ignorance all -through. For instance, how can Time be the oldest thing, seeing that, -while some of it is past and some present, some of it is future? Time -which is to come after us must be regarded as younger than the events -and persons of the present. Again, to call Truth wisdom appears to me as -bad as making out that the light is the eye. Next, if he considered -Light beautiful—as indeed it is—how came he to ignore the sun? As for -the rest, the answer concerning gods and evil spirits is bold and -dangerous, while in that [Sidenote: C] concerning Fortune the logic is -exceedingly bad. Fortune would not be so readily upset if it was the -strongest and most powerful thing in existence. Nor yet again is Death -the most universal thing, for in the case of the living it has no -existence. However, to avoid seeming merely to criticize the work of -others, let us express views of our own and compare them with his. I am -ready to be the first to be questioned point by point, if Niloxenus so -desires.’ - -In relating the questions and answers I will put them exactly as they -occurred. _What is the oldest thing?_ ‘_God_,’ said Thales: ‘for He is -without birth.’ _What is greatest?_ ‘_Space_: for [Sidenote: D] while -the universe contains everything else, it is space that contains the -universe.’ _What is most beautiful?_ ‘_The cosmos_: for everything duly -ordered is part of it.’ _What is wisest?_ ‘_Time_: for it is Time that -has either discovered things or will discover them.’ _What most -universal?_ ‘_Expectation_: for those who have nothing else have that.’ -_What most beneficent?_ ‘_Virtue_: for it makes other things beneficent -by using them rightly.’ _What most harmful?_ ‘_Vice_: for most things -suffer from its presence.’ _What most powerful?_ ‘_Necessity_: for it is -invincible.’ _What most easy?_ ‘_The natural_; not pleasure, for people -often fail to cope with that.’ - -The whole company being satisfied with Thales and his [Sidenote: E] -acumen, Cleodorus observed: ‘It is questions and answers of this kind, -Niloxenus, that are proper for kings. On the other hand, the barbarian -who gave Amasis the sea to drink, required the short answer made by -Pittacus to Alyattes, when he wrote the Lesbians a letter containing an -arrogant command. The reply was merely a recommendation to eat onions -and hot bread.’[31] - -Here Periander joined in; ‘I may remind you, Cleodorus, that even in old -times the Greeks had a habit of posing each [Sidenote: F] other with -similar difficulties. We are told, for instance, that there was a -gathering at Chalcis of the most distinguished poets among the wise men -of the day, in order to celebrate the funeral of Amphidamas—a great -warrior who had given much trouble to the Eretrians and had fallen in -the fighting for Lelantum. The verses composed by the poets were so well -matched, that it became a difficult and troublesome matter to judge -between them, and the reputation of the competitors—Homer and -Hesiod—caused the jury much diffidence and [Sidenote: 154] -embarrassment. Thereupon they had recourse to questions of the present -kind, and Homer—as Lesches tells us—propounded the following: - - _Tell me, Muse, of such things as neither before have befallen, - Nor shall hereafter befall?_ - -To which Hesiod instantly replied: - - _When in eager pursuit of the prize the chariots, one ’gainst the - other - Are dashed by the ringing-hoof’d steeds round the tomb where Zeus - lieth buried._ - -This answer, it is said, won particular admiration and secured him the -tripod.’ - -‘But pray what is the difference,’ asked Cleodorus, ‘between such -questions and Eumetis’s riddles? It is no doubt right [Sidenote: B] -enough for her to set women such puzzles by way of amusement, -constructing them as other women plait their bits of girdles or -hair-nets. But for sensible men to treat them with any seriousness is -absurd.’ Eumetis would apparently have liked to make some retort, but -she was too shy, and checked herself, her face mantled with blushes. -‘Nay,’ said Aesop, by way of championing her, ‘it is surely more absurd -to be unable to solve them. Take for example the one she set us just -before dinner: - - _I saw a man glue bronze on a man; with fire did he glue it._ - -Can you tell me what that means?’ ‘No, and I don’t want [Sidenote: C] to -be told either,’ answered Cleodorus. ‘And yet,’ said Aesop, ‘no one is -so familiar with the thing, or does it so well, as you. If you deny it, -cupping-glasses[32] will bear me out.’ At this Cleodorus laughed, for he -made more use of cupping-glasses than any medical man of the day, and -the estimation in which that remedy is held is especially due to him. ‘I -beg to ask, Periander,’ said Mnesiphilus the Athenian, a close friend -and admirer of Solon, ‘that the conversation, like the wine, shall not -be limited to wealth or rank, but shall be put on a democratic footing -and made to concern all alike. In what has just been [Sidenote: D] said -about wealth and kingship there is nothing for us commoners. We think, -therefore, that you should take a government with equal rights, and each -of you again contribute some opinion, beginning once more with Solon.’ -It was decided that this should be done. First came Solon. ‘Well, -Mnesiphilus, you, like every other Athenian, have heard what opinion I -hold about such a government. But if you desire to hear it again now, it -seems to me that a community is in the soundest condition, and its -popular government most securely maintained, _when the wrongdoer is -accused and punished quite as much by those who [Sidenote: E] have not -been wronged as by the man that has_.’ The second to speak was Bias, who -said that the best popular government is ‘_that in which every one fears -the law as he would a despot_.’ Next came Thales with ‘_that in which -there are no citizens either too rich or too poor_.’ Anacharsis followed -with ‘_that in which, while everything else is treated as equal, -superiority is determined by virtue and inferiority by vice_.’ In the -fifth place Cleobulus affirmed that a democracy is most soundly -conducted ‘_when its public men are more afraid of blame than of the -law_‘. Sixth, Pittacus: ‘_Where the bad are not permitted to hold office -and the [Sidenote: F] good are not permitted to decline it._’ Last of -all Chilon expressed the view that the best free government is ‘_that -which pays least attention to the orators and most to the laws_.’ -Periander once more summed up at the end by saying that they all -appeared to him to be praising ‘that democratic government which most -resembled an aristocratic.’ - -Upon the conclusion of this second discussion I begged that they would -also tell us the proper way to deal with a household; ‘for while there -are few who are at the helm of a kingdom or a commonwealth, we all play -our parts in the hearth and home.’ [Sidenote: 155] At this Aesop said -with a laugh: ‘No! not if in “all” you include Anacharsis. He has no -home, but actually prides himself on being homeless, and on using a -wagon—in the same way as they tell us the sun roams about in a chariot, -occupying first one and then another region of the sky.’ ‘Yes,’ retorted -Anacharsis, ‘and that is why, unlike any other—or more than any -other—god, he is free and independent, ruling all and ruled by none, but -always playing the king and holding the reins. You, however, fail to -realize the surpassing beauty and marvellous [Sidenote: B] size of his -car, otherwise you would not have tried to raise a laugh by jocosely -comparing it with ours. It seems to me, Aesop, that to you a home means -those coverings of yours made by clay and wood and tiles. You might as -well regard a “snail” as meaning the shell instead of the animal. It is -therefore natural that you should find cause to laugh at Solon, when he -beheld all the costly splendour in the house of Croesus and yet refused -to declare off-hand that its possessor was happy and blessed in his -home; “for”—he argued—“I am more desirous of looking at the fine things -in the man than at those in his house.” It appears, moreover, that you -have forgotten your own fox. That animal, when she and the leopard were -engaged in a dispute as to which was the more “cunningly marked”, begged -the judge to examine her on the inside, inasmuch as she would be found -to possess more “marks of cunning” from that point of view. But you go -inspecting the productions of carpenters [Sidenote: C] and stone-masons, -and regarding those as the “home”, instead of the inward and domestic -constituents in the case—the children, wife, friends, and servants. If -these have good sense and good morals, a man who shares his best means -with them possesses a good and happy home, even if it be but an ant-hill -or a bird’s-nest.’ ‘That,’ he continued, ‘is my answer to Aesop and my -contribution to Diocles. But it is only fair that each of the others -should express his own views.’ - -Thereupon Solon said that in his opinion the best household was ‘_that -in which the resources are acquired without dishonesty, [Sidenote: D] -watched over without distrust, and expended without repentance_‘. -According to Bias it was ‘_that inside which the master behaves for his -own sake as well as he does outside for the law’s sake_‘. According to -Thales, ‘_that in which the master can find most time to himself_‘. -According to Cleobulus, ‘_where the master has more who love than fear -him_.’ Pittacus would have it that the best house is ‘_that which wants -no luxury and lacks no necessity_‘. Chilon’s view was that the house -should be ‘_as like as possible to a state ruled by a king_‘, and he -went on to observe that when some one urged Lycurgus to establish a -republic at Sparta, he [Sidenote: E] answered: ‘You begin by creating a -republic at home.’ - -This topic also having been dealt with, Eumetis left the room in company -with Melissa. Periander then pledged Chilon in a capacious goblet, and -Chilon in turn pledged Bias. At this Ardalus got up, and, addressing -Aesop, said: ‘Perhaps you will be good enough to pass yonder cup on to -us, seeing that these gentlemen are passing theirs to each other, as if -it were a Bathycles’s goblet,[33] and are giving no one else a turn.’ -‘Nay,’ [Sidenote: F] replied Aesop, ‘there is to be nothing democratic -about this cup either, for Solon has been keeping it all to himself for -quite an age.’ Thereupon Pittacus, addressing Mnesiphilus, asked why -Solon, by not drinking, was testifying against the verses in which he -had written - - _Now do I welcome the tasks of the Cyprus-born goddess and Bacchus, - And tasks of the Muses that bring cheer to the heart of mankind._ - -‘Because,’ said Anacharsis, before Mnesiphilus could speak, ‘he is -frightened at that cruel law of your own, Pittacus, where the words run, -_If any one commit any offence when drunk, the penalty to be double that -paid by a man who was sober._’ ‘And you,’ retorted Pittacus, ‘showed -such wanton contempt of the law that last year, when you had got -intoxicated at that [Sidenote: 156] party at Delphi, you asked for a -prize and a victor’s wreath.’ ‘And why not?’ asked Anacharsis. ‘A prize -was offered to him who drank most, and, since I was the first to get -tipsy, I, of course, claimed the reward of victory. Otherwise will you -gentlemen tell me what is the end and aim of drinking a large quantity -of unmixed wine, if it is not to get intoxicated?’ Pittacus laughed, -while Aesop told the following story. ‘A wolf, having seen some -shepherds eating a sheep in a tent, came close up to them, and said: -“What a to-do you would have made if _I_ had been doing that!”’ At this -Chilon remarked, ‘Aesop has properly taken his revenge. A moment ago we -put the muzzle on him, and now he sees that others have taken the words -out of Mnesiphilus’ mouth. It was Mnesiphilus who was requested to -answer on behalf of Solon.’ ‘Well, in doing so,’ said Mnesiphilus, ‘I -speak with knowledge. In Solon’s opinion [Sidenote: B] the concern of -every art and faculty of man or God is with results rather than with -agencies, the end rather than the means. A weaver, I take it, would -consider his object to be a cloak or mantle rather than the arrangement -of his shuttle-rods or the picking-up of his straightening-stones. To a -blacksmith it is rather the welding of iron and putting an edge on an -axe than any of the processes necessary thereto, such as the kindling of -his charcoal or the preparation of lime. Still more would a -master-builder object if, instead of a ship or a house, we declared his -object to be the boring of wood or the mixing of mortar. The Muses would -utterly scout the notion that their [Sidenote: C] concern is with a harp -or flute, instead of with the cultivation of character and the soothing -of the emotions of their votaries by means of melodies properly attuned. -So—to come to the point—the object of Aphrodite is not sexual -intercourse, nor that of Dionysus wine and tipsiness, but the friendly -feeling, the longing, the companionship, and the close mutual -understanding which they produce in us by those agencies. These are what -Solon calls divine “tasks”, and he means that these are the objects -which he appreciates and cultivates in his old age. Of reciprocal -affection between men and women Aphrodite is the creator, using pleasure -as the means of melting and commingling their souls at the same time -with their bodies; while in ordinary cases, where persons are not very -intimate or particularly acquainted, Dionysus uses wine as a kind of -fire to soften and supple their dispositions, and so provides a -starting-point towards a blending in mutual friendship. - -‘But when such men meet together as Periander has invited in your -persons, there is no need, I take it, of the goblet and the wine-ladle. -The Muses set before you all, in the form of conversation, a mixing-bowl -containing no intoxicant and yet abundance of pleasure, grave or gay. In -this they stir friendly feeling, blend it, and pour it forth, while for -the most part the [Sidenote: E] ladle is allowed to lie undisturbed -“above the bowl”—a thing which Hesiod forbids where the company is -better qualified for drinking than for conversation.’ - -‘As for pledging one another,’ he continued, ‘I gather that with the -ancients the ceremony consisted of one large goblet going the round, -each man drinking a measured “allowance” (as Homer tells us), and then -letting his neighbour take his share, as he would do with a sacrificial -portion.’ - -When Mnesiphilus had finished, the poet Chersias—who had ceased to be -under censure and had lately been reconciled to [Sidenote: F] Periander -through Chilon’s intercession—remarked, ‘Are we also to understand that, -when the gods were the guests of Zeus and were pledging each other, he -poured in their drink by measure, as Agamemnon did for his chieftains?’ -‘And pray, Chersias,’ said Cleodorus, ‘if Zeus has his ambrosia -brought—as you poets say he does—by doves which find the greatest -difficulty in flying over the Clashing Rocks, don’t you think [Sidenote: -157] that his nectar is also scarce and hard to get, and that -consequently he is sparing of it and doles it out economically?’ -‘Perhaps so,’ replied Chersias. ‘Since, however, the question of -household economy has again been mooted, perhaps some one will deal with -the remainder of the question. And that, I take it, is to discover what -amount of property will be sufficient to meet all needs.’ ‘To the wise -man,’ said Cleobulus, ‘the law has supplied the standard; but in -reference to weak characters I will repeat a story which my daughter -told her brother. The Moon, she said, asked her mother to weave a tunic -to fit her; whereat the mother answered, “How can I possibly [Sidenote: -B] weave one to fit? At one time I see you as a full moon, at another as -a crescent, and at another gibbous.” Similarly, my dear Chersias, there -is no way of determining the amount of means requisite for a weak and -foolish person. His wants vary with his appetites and experiences, his -case being that of Aesop’s dog, of whom our friend says that in winter -he huddled and curled himself up with the cold, and contemplated making -a house; but in summer it was different; he stretched himself out when -he slept, thought himself a big fellow, and decided that it was both a -laborious and an unnecessary task to build so large a house to cover -him. Don’t you observe, Chersias’—he went on—‘that even insignificant -people, though they will at one moment draw themselves into a very -modest compass, with the idea of living a close and simple Spartan life, -at another [Sidenote: C] time will fancy they are going to die of want -unless they have all the money in the world—all the king’s and all the -private people’s?’ - -Chersias having nothing to say, Cleodorus joined in. ‘Well, but,’ he -said, ‘I perceive that there is no equal distribution in the properties -which even you sages respectively possess.’ ‘Yes, my dear sir,’ said -Cleobulus, ‘because the law, like a weaver, allots us the amount which -properly and reasonably fits each case. In your own profession, -substituting reason for law, you feed [Sidenote: D] and diet and physic -the sick by prescribing, not the same quantity for everybody, but the -proper quantity for each case.’ Here Ardalus interposed. ‘I suppose, -then,’ he asked, ‘it is at the bidding of some law that Epimenides—the -friend of you gentlemen and the guest of Solon—abstains from other kinds -of food and passes the day without breakfast or dinner by merely putting -in his mouth a little of that “anti-hunger essence” which he makes up -for himself?’ This remark having arrested the attention of the party, -Thales mockingly observed that Epimenides was a sensible man for -refusing to be troubled—as [Sidenote: E] Pittacus was—with grinding and -cooking his own food. ‘You must know,’ he said, ‘that when I was at -Eresus, I heard my hostess singing to the mill: - - _Grind, mill, grind; - For Pittacus is grinding, - As he kings it over great Mytilene._’ - -Then Solon expressed his surprise that Ardalus had not read the law -ordaining the diet in question, seeing that it was written in the verses -of Hesiod. ‘For it is he who first supplied Epimenides with hints for -that form of nourishment, by teaching him to make trial [Sidenote: F] - - _How great and sustaining the food that in mallow and asphodel - lieth._ - -‘Nay,’ said Periander, ‘do you imagine Hesiod conceived of anything of -the kind? Don’t you suppose that, with his habitual praise of economy, -he is merely urging us to try the most frugal dishes as being the most -agreeable? The mallow makes good eating, and asphodel-stalk is sweet; -but I am told that anti-hunger and anti-thirst drugs—for they are drugs -rather than foods—include among their ingredients some sort of foreign -honey and cheese, and a large number of seeds which are difficult to -procure. Most certainly, therefore, Hesiod would find that the -“_rudder_” hung “_above the smoke_” and - - _The works of the drudging mules and the oxen’s labour would - perish_, - -[Sidenote: 158] if all that provision is to be made. I am surprised, -Solon, if your guest, on recently making his great purification of -Delos, failed to note how they present to the temple—as commemorative -samples of the earliest form of food—mallow and asphodel-stalk along -with other cheap and self-grown produce. The natural reason for which -Hesiod also recommends them to us is that they are simple and frugal.’ -‘Not only so,’ remarked Anacharsis, ‘but both vegetables bear the -highest possible character for wholesomeness.’ ‘You are quite right,’ -said Cleodorus. ‘That Hesiod possessed medical knowledge is manifest -from the careful and well-informed manner in which he speaks about diet, -the mixing of wine, good quality in water, [Sidenote: B] bathing, women, -and the way to seat infants. But it seems to me that there is more -reason for Aesop to declare himself a pupil of Hesiod than there is for -Epimenides. It is to the speech of the hawk to the nightingale that our -friend owes the first promptings to his admirably subtle wisdom in many -tongues. But for my part I should be glad to hear what Solon has to say. -We may assume that, in his long association with Epimenides at Athens, -he asked him what motive or subtle purpose he had in adopting such a -diet.’ - -‘What need was there to ask him that question?’ replied Solon. ‘It was -self-evident that the next best thing to the [Sidenote: C] supreme and -greatest good is to require the least possible food. You allow, I -suppose, that the greatest good is to require no food at all?’ ‘Not I, -by any means,’ answered Cleodorus, ‘if I am to say what I think, -especially with a table in front of us. Take away food, and you take -away the table—that is to say, the altar of the Gods of Friendship and -Hospitality. As Thales tells us that, if you do away with the earth, the -whole cosmos will fall into confusion, so the abolition of food means -the dissolution of house and home. For with it you do away with the -hearth-fire, the hearth, the wine-bowl, all entertainment and -hospitality—the most humanizing and essential elements in our mutual -relations. Or rather you do away with the whole of life, if life is “_a -passing of the time on the part [Sidenote: D] of a human being involving -a series of actions_”, most of those actions being evoked by the need, -and in the acquirement, of food. Of immense importance, my good friend, -is the question [Sidenote: *] of mere agriculture. Let agriculture -perish, and the earth that it leaves us becomes unsightly and foul, a -corrupt wilderness of barren forest and vagabond streams. The ruin of -agriculture means the ruin of all arts and crafts as well; for she takes -the lead of them, and provides them with their basis and their -[Sidenote: E] material. Do away with her, and they count for nothing. -There is an end also to our honouring the gods. Men will thank the Sun -but little, and the Moon still less, for mere light and warmth. Where -will you find altar or sacrifice to Zeus of the Rain, Demeter of the -Plough, or Poseidon the Fosterer of Plants? How can Dionysus be -Boon-Giver, if we need nothing that he gives? What sacrifice or libation -shall we make? What offering of firstfruits? All this means the -overthrow and confounding of our most important interests. Though to -cling to every pleasure in every case is to be a madman, to avoid every -pleasure in every case is to be a block. By all means let the soul have -[Sidenote: F] other pleasures of a superior kind to enjoy; the body can -find no pleasure more right and proper than that derived from taking -food. All the world recognizes the fact, for this pleasure people take -openly, sharing with each other in the table and the banquet, whereas -their amorous pleasure is screened by night and all the darkness -possible. To share that pleasure with others is considered as shameless -and brutelike as it is not to share in the case of the table.’ - -Here, as Cleodorus paused for a moment, I joined in: ‘And is there not -another point—that in discarding food we also [Sidenote: 159] discard -sleep? If there is no sleep, there is no dreaming either, and we lose -our most important means of divination. Moreover, life will be all -alike, and there will be practically no purpose in wearing a body round -our soul. Most of its parts, and the most important, are provided as -instruments to feeding—the tongue, teeth, stomach, and liver. None of -them is without its work, and none has other business to attend to. -Consequently any one who has no need of food has no need of a body -either. Which means that a person has no need of himself; for it is -thanks to the body that each of us is a “self”.’ ‘Such,’ I added, ‘are -our contributions on behalf of the belly. If Solon or any one else has -objections to bring, we will listen.’ - -‘Of course I have objections,’ replied Solon. ‘I have no [Sidenote: B] -wish to be thought a poorer judge than the Egyptians. After cutting open -a dead body, they take out the entrails and expose them to the sunlight. -They then throw those parts into the river and proceed to attend to the -rest of the body, which is now regarded as purified. Yes, therein in -truth lies the pollution of our flesh. It is its Tartarus—like that in -Hades—full of “dreadful streams”, a confused medley of wind and fire and -of dead things. For while itself lives, nothing that feeds it can be -alive. We commit the wrong of murdering animate things and of destroying -plants, which can claim to have life through the fact that they feed and -grow. I say destroying, because [Sidenote: C] anything that changes from -what nature has made it into something else, is destroyed; it must -perish utterly in order to become the other’s sustenance. To abstain -from eating flesh, as we are told Orpheus did in ancient times, is more -a quibble than an avoidance of crime in the matter of food. The only way -of avoiding it, and the only way of attaining to justice by a complete -purification, is to become self-sufficing and free of external needs. If -God has made it impossible for a thing to secure its own preservation -without injury to another, He has also endowed it with the principle of -injustice in the shape of its own nature. Would it not, therefore, be a -good thing, my dear friend, if, when cutting out injustice, we could cut -out the belly, the gullet, and the liver, which impart to us no -perception [Sidenote: D] of anything noble and no appetite for it, but -partly resemble the utensils for cooking butcher’s meat—such as choppers -and stew-pans—and partly the apparatus for a bakery—ovens, water-tanks, -and kneading-troughs? Indeed, in the case of most [Sidenote: *] people -you can see their soul shut up in their body as if in a baker’s mill, -and perpetually going round and round at the business of getting food. -Take ourselves, for example. Just now we were neither looking at nor -listening to one another, but we all had our heads down, slaving at the -business of feeding. But now that the tables have been removed, we -have—as you perceive—become free, and with garlands on our heads we are -[Sidenote: E] engaged in sociable and leisurely conversation together, -because we have arrived at the state of not requiring food. Well then, -if the state in which we now find ourselves remains as a permanence all -our lives, shall we not be at perpetual leisure to enjoy each other’s -society? We shall have no fear of poverty. Nor shall we know the meaning -of wealth, since the quest for luxuries is but the immediate consequence -and concomitant of the use of necessaries. - -‘But, thinks Cleodorus, there must be food so that there may be tables -and wine-bowls and sacrifices to Demeter and the Maid. Then let some one -else demand that there shall be war and fighting, so that we may have -fortifications and arsenals and [Sidenote: F] armouries, and also -sacrifices in honour of slaying our hundreds, such as they say are the -law in Messenia. Another, I suppose, is aggrieved at the prospect of the -healthfulness which would follow. A terrible thing if, because there is -no illness, there is no more use in soft bedclothes, and no more -sacrificing to Asclepius or the Averting Powers, and if medical skill, -with all its drugs and implements, must be put away into inglorious -hiding! What is the difference between these arguments and the other? -Food is, in fact, “taken” as a “remedy” for hunger, and all who use food -are said to be “taking care” of [Sidenote: 160] themselves and using -some “diet”; and this implies that the act is not a pleasant and -agreeable performance, but one which Nature renders compulsory. -Certainly one can enumerate more pains than pleasures arising from -feeding. Further still; whereas the pleasure affects but a small region -of the body, and lasts but a short time, it needs no telling how full we -become of ugly and painful experiences through the worry and difficulty -of digesting. - -Homer had these in view, I suppose, when he used as a proof that the -gods do not die the fact that they do not feed: - - _For they eat not the bread of corn, nor drink they the wine that is - ruddy, - And therefore blood have they none in their veins, and are called - the Immortals._ - -Food, he gives us to understand, is the necessary means not only -[Sidenote: B] for living, but for dying. From it come our diseases, -feeding themselves with the feeding of our bodies, which suffer quite as -much from repletion as from want. Very often it is an easier business to -get together our supply of victuals than to make away with them and get -quit of them again when once they are in the body. Just suppose it were -a question with the Danaids what sort of life they would live and what -they would do if they could get rid of their menial labour at filling -the cask. When we raise the question, “Supposing it possible to cease -from heaping into this unconscionable flesh all these things from -[Sidenote: C] land and sea, what are we going to do?” it is because in -our ignorance of noble things we are content with the life which our -necessities impose. Well, as those who have been in slavery, when they -are emancipated, do for themselves and on their own account what they -used formerly to do in the service of their masters, so is it with the -soul. As things are, it feeds the body with continual toil and trouble; -but let it get quit of its menial service, and it will presumably feed -itself in the enjoyment of freedom, and will live with an eye to itself -and the truth, with nothing to distract and deter it.’ - -This, Nicarchus, concluded the discussion as to food. - -While Solon was still speaking, Gorgos, Periander’s brother, entered the -room. It happened that, in consequence of certain [Sidenote: D] oracles, -he had been sent on a mission to Taenarum in charge of a sacrificial -embassy. After we had welcomed him, and Periander had taken him to his -arms and kissed him, he sat down by his brother on the couch and gave -him a private account of some occurrence which appeared to cause -Periander various emotions as he listened to it. At one part he was -manifestly vexed, at another indignant; often he showed incredulity, and -this was followed by amazement. Finally he laughed and said to us, ‘I -should like to tell the company the news; but I have [Sidenote: E] -scruples about it, because I heard Thales once say that when a thing is -probable we should speak of it, but when it is impossible we should say -nothing about it.’ At this Bias interposed, ‘Yes, but here is another -wise saying of Thales, that “while we should disbelieve our enemies even -in matters believable, we should believe our friends even when the thing -is unbelievable”. By enemies I presume he meant the wicked and foolish, -and by friends the good and wise.’ ‘Very well then,’ said Periander, -‘you must let every one hear it; or rather you must pit the story you -have brought us against those new-fangled dithyrambs and overcrow them.’ - -Gorgos then told us his story. - -His sacrificial ceremony had occupied three days, and on the [Sidenote: -F] last there was an all-night festival with dancing and frolic by the -sea-shore. The sea was covered with the light of the moon, and, though -there was no wind, but a dead calm, there appeared in the distance a -ripple coming in past the promontory, accompanied by foam and a very -appreciable noise of surge. At this they all ran in astonishment down to -the place where it was [Sidenote: *] coming to land. This happened so -quickly that, before they could guess what was approaching, dolphins -were seen, some of them massed together and moving in a ring, some -leading the way to the levellest part of the shore, and others as it -were [Sidenote: 161] bringing up the rear. In the middle there stood out -above the sea, dim and indistinct, the shape of a body being carried. So -they came on, until, gathering together and coming to land at the same -moment, they put ashore a human being, alive and moving; after which -they themselves retired in the direction of the promontory, leaping out -of the water more than ever and for some reason, apparently, frolicking -and bounding for joy. ‘Many of our number,’ continued Gorgos, ‘fled from -the sea in a panic, but a few found the courage to approach along with -myself, and discovered that it was Arion, the harp-player. Not only did -he utter his own name, but his dress spoke for itself, [Sidenote: B] for -he was actually wearing the festal robes which he adopted when -performing at the competitions. Well, we brought him to a tent, and, -inasmuch as there was nothing the matter with him except that he was -evidently tired and overstrained from the rushing motion, we heard him -tell a story which no one would believe except us who actually saw the -end of it. - -‘What Arion told us was this. He had for some time made up his mind to -leave Italy, and had been made the more eager to do so by a letter from -Periander. Accordingly, when a Corinthian merchant-vessel appeared on -the scene, he at once went on board and put to sea. They had a moderate -wind for three days, when he perceived that the sailors were forming a -plot to make away with him, and was afterwards secretly informed -[Sidenote: C] by the pilot that they had resolved to do the deed that -night. At this, being helpless and at a loss what to do, he acted upon a -kind of heaven-sent impulse. He decided that he would adorn his person -and—while still alive—put on his own shroud in the shape of his festal -attire. Then, in meeting his death, he would sing a _finale_ to life, -and in that respect show no less spirit than the swan does. Accordingly, -having dressed himself and given notice that he felt moved to perform -the Pythian hymn on behalf of the safety of himself and the ship and -crew, [Sidenote: D] he took his stand on the poop by the bulwarks. After -some prelude invoking the gods of the sea, he began to sing the piece. -Just before he was half-way through, the sun began to set into the sea -and the Peloponnese to come into sight. Thereupon the sailors no longer -waited for night, but advanced to their murderous deed. Arion, seeing -their knives unsheathed and the pilot beginning to cover his face from -the sight, ran back and hurled himself as far as possible from the -vessel. Before, however, his body had all sunk into the water, a number -of dolphins ran under him and bore him up. At first he was filled with -bewilderment, distress, and alarm; but when he found himself riding -easily, and saw many of them gathering about [Sidenote: E] him in a -friendly way, and taking turns at the work as if it were a necessary -duty belonging to them all; and when the long distance at which the -vessel was left behind showed how great was their speed; he said that -what he felt was not so much fear of death or desire of life, as -eagerness to be rescued, so that he might become recognized as the -object of divine favour, and might have his reputation as a religious -man assured. - -At the same time, observing that the sky was full of stars, and that the -moon was rising bright and clear, while the sea [Sidenote: F] on all -sides was waveless and a kind of path was being cut for his course, he -was led to reflect that Justice has more eyes than one, and that God -looks abroad with all those orbs upon whatever deeds are done by land or -sea. By these reflections (he told us) he found relief from the -weariness which was by this time beginning to weigh upon his body, and -when at last, dexterously avoiding and rounding the lofty and -precipitous headland which ran out to meet them, they swam close in by -the shore and [Sidenote: 162] brought him safely to land like a ship -into harbour, he realized beyond doubt that he had been steered on his -voyage by the hand of God. ‘When Arion had told us this story,’ -continued Gorgos, ‘I asked him where he thought the ship would put in. -He answered that it would certainly be at Corinth, but that it was left -far behind; for, after throwing himself off it in the evening, he -believed he had been carried over sixty miles and a calm had fallen -immediately.’ Gorgos added, however, that after ascertaining the names -of the captain and pilot, and also the ship’s flag, he had sent out -vessels and soldiers to the various landing-places to keep a watch. -Moreover, he had Arion with [Sidenote: B] him in hiding, so that they -might not hear of his rescue beforehand and make their escape. ‘The -event,’ he said, ‘has proved truly miraculous; for no sooner did we -arrive here than we learned that the ship had been seized by the -soldiers, and the traders and sailors arrested.’ - -Thereupon Periander ordered Gorgos to get up and go out at once and -place the men in custody where no one would approach them or tell them -of Arion’s escape. - -‘Well now,’ said Aesop, ‘you gentlemen make fun of my jackdaws and crows -for talking. Do dolphins behave in this outrageous way?’ To which I -replied, ‘A different matter, [Sidenote: C] Aesop! A story to the same -effect as this has been believed and written among us for more than a -thousand years, ever since the times of Ino and Athamas.’ - -Solon here interposed: ‘Well, Diodes; let us grant that these events are -in the sphere of the divine and beyond us. But what happened to Hesiod -is on our own human plane. You have probably heard the story.’ ‘For my -part, no,’ I answered. ‘Well, it is worth hearing. Hesiod and a -Milesian—I think it was—shared the same room as guests in a house at -[Sidenote: D] Locri. The Milesian having been found out in a secret -intrigue with the host’s daughter, Hesiod fell under suspicion of having -all along known of the offence and helped in concealing it. Though in no -way guilty, he fell a victim to cruel circumstance at a critical time of -anger and misrepresentation. For the girl’s brothers lay in wait for him -at the Nemeum in Locris and killed him, together with his servant, whose -name was Troilus. Their bodies having been pushed into the sea, that of -Troilus, which was carried out into the current of the river Daphnus, -was caught by a low wave-washed rock projecting a little above the -water. The rock still bears his name. Meanwhile the [Sidenote: E] dead -body of Hesiod was picked up immediately off the shore by a shoal of -dolphins, who proceeded to carry it to Rhium, close to Molycrea. It -happened that the Locrians were engaged in the Rhian festival and fair, -which is still a notable celebration in those parts. At sight of the -body being borne towards them they were naturally amazed, and when, on -running down to the shore, they recognized the corpse—for it was still -fresh—they could think of nothing but tracking out the murder, so high -was the renown of Hesiod. Their object was soon achieved. They -discovered the murderers, threw them into the sea, and razed their house -to the ground. Meanwhile Hesiod was buried near the Nemeum. Most -strangers, however, are ignorant of his tomb, which has been concealed -because the people of [Sidenote: F] Orchomenus are in quest of it, from -a desire, it is said, to recover the remains and bury them in their own -country in accordance with an oracle. - -‘If, then, dolphins show such affectionate interest in the dead, it is -still more natural for them to render help to the living, especially if -they have been charmed by the flute or the singing of tunes. For, of -course, we are all aware that music is a thing which these animals enjoy -and court, swimming and gambolling beside a ship as its oarsmen row to -the tune of song and flute in calm weather. They take a delight also in -children when [Sidenote: 163] swimming, and they have diving matches -with them. Hence there is an unwritten law that they shall not be -harmed. No one hunts them or injures them; the only exception being -that, when they get into the nets and do mischief to the catch, they are -punished with a beating, like naughty children. I further remember -hearing some Lesbians tell of a girl having been rescued from the sea by -a dolphin. I am not, however, sure as to the exact details, and, since -Pittacus knows them, he is the right person to tell us about them.’ - -Pittacus thereupon assured us that the story had good warrant and was -mentioned by many authorities. ‘An oracle was given to the colonizers of -Lesbos that, when on the voyage they came across the reef known as -Mesogeum, they should then and [Sidenote: B] there throw a bull into the -water as an offering to Poseidon, and a live virgin to Amphitrite and -the Nereids. There were seven chiefs, all of whom were kings, -Echelaus—whom the Pythian oracle had assigned as leader of the -colony—making an eighth. Echelaus was still a bachelor. When as many of -the seven as had unmarried girls cast lots, the lot fell upon the -daughter of Smintheus. Upon getting near the place, they decked her in -fine clothes and gold ornaments, and, after offering prayer, were on the -point of lowering her into the water. Now it happened that one of the -party on the ship—assuredly a gallant young man—was in love with her. -His name has been preserved to us as Enalus. This youth, in the passion -of the [Sidenote: C] moment, seized by an eager but utterly hopeless -desire to succour the girl, darted forward at the right instant and, -throwing his arms about her, cast himself along with her into the sea. -Now from the first there was spread among the contingent a rumour, -lacking certainty, but nevertheless widely believed, that they were safe -and had been rescued; and at a later date, it is said, Enalus appeared -in Lesbos and told how they had been carried by dolphins through the sea -and cast ashore without harm upon the mainland. He had other still more -miraculous experiences to tell, which held the crowd spellbound with -amazement, but for all of which he gave actual evidence. For when an -enormous wave was rushing sheer round [Sidenote: D] the island and -people were terrified, he alone ventured to face it. [Sidenote: *] On -its retiring, a number of polypi followed him to the temple of Poseidon. -From the largest of these he took a stone which it was carrying, and -offered it as a dedication. That stone we call Enalus. - -‘Speaking generally, the man who knows the difference between impossible -and unfamiliar, between unreasonable and unexpected, will be most a man -after your own heart, Chilon; he will neither believe nor disbelieve -without discrimination, but will carefully observe your own rule of -“_nothing in excess_”.’ - -Anacharsis next made the remark that, as Thales believed [Sidenote: E] -all the greatest and most important components of the universe to -contain soul, there was no reason to wonder if the most splendid actions -were brought to pass by the will of God. ‘For the body is the instrument -of the soul, and soul is the instrument of God. And as, though many of -the motions of the body proceed from itself, the most and the finest are -produced by the soul, so again is it with the soul. While it performs -many actions on its own motion, in other cases it is but lending itself, -as the aptest of all instruments, to the use of God, for Him to direct -and apply it as He chooses. It would,’ said he, ‘be [Sidenote: F] a very -strange thing if, while fire, wind, water, clouds, and rain are God’s -instruments, by which He often preserves and nourishes and often kills -and destroys, He has never on any occasion at all used animals as His -agents. On the contrary, it is natural that, in their dependence upon -the divine power, they should lend themselves more responsively to -motions from God than does the bow to the Scythian or the lyre and flute -to the Greek.’ - -After this the poet Chersias mentioned, among other cases of persons -rescued in hopeless situations, that of Cypselus, Periander’s father. -When he was a newborn babe, the men who had been sent to make away with -him were turned from their purpose because he smiled at them. When they -changed their minds and came back to look for him, he was not to be -found, his mother having hidden him in a chest. ‘It is for this reason -[Sidenote: 164] that Cypselus built the house at Delphi, believing that -the god had then stopped him from crying so that he might elude the -search.’ - -At this Pittacus, addressing Periander, observed, ‘I have to thank -Chersias, Periander, for mentioning that house; for I have often wanted -to ask you the meaning of those frogs which are carved in such large -size at the base of the palm-tree. What reference have they to the god -or to the dedication?’ Periander having bidden him ask Chersias, who -knew the reason and was present when Cypselus consecrated the house, -Chersias said with [Sidenote: B] a smile, ‘No: I will give no -information until these gentlemen have told me the meaning of their -_Nothing in excess_ and _Know thyself_, and of those words which have -kept many people from marrying, made many distrustful, and reduced some -to positive dumbness—the words _Give a pledge, and Mischief is nigh._’ -‘Why do you need us to tell you that,’ said Pittacus, ‘seeing that you -have so long admired the stories in which Aesop practically deals with -each of those maxims?’ ‘Nay,’ replied Aesop, ‘he does need it, when he -is joking at me. But when he is in earnest, he proves that Homer was -their inventor. He says that Hector “knew himself”, inasmuch as, though -[Sidenote: C] he attacked the rest, - - _Ajax, Telamon’s son, he would not fight, but he shunned him_, - -and that Odysseus recommends “nothing in excess” since he urges Diomede - - _Nay, prithee, Tydeus’ son; nor praise me much nor reprove me_. - -As for a pledge, not only is it the general opinion that he is -reprobating it as a misguided and futile thing when he says - - _Sorry, I trow, to take are the pledges that sorry folk offer_, - -but our friend Chersias here tells us how “Mischief” was hurled from -heaven by Zeus because she was present when he was tripped [Sidenote: D] -up through pledging his word in connexion with the birth of Heracles.’ - -Here Solon interposed. ‘Well, Homer was a very wise man, and we should -do well to take his advice: - - _Already the night is here; night bids, and ’tis good to obey her._ - -Let us therefore pour an offering to the Muses and to Poseidon and -Amphitrite, and then—with your permission—break up the party.’ - -This, Nicarchus, terminated the party on that occasion. - -Footnote 24: - - The home of Bias. - -Footnote 25: - - According to another account he waited till the shadow was equal in - length to the stick. The pyramid was then also equal in height to the - length of its shadow. - -Footnote 26: - - The divinities of spring-water. - -Footnote 27: - - The title _Lusios_ or _Luaios_ was popularly interpreted Deliverer - (from care or difficulty). - -Footnote 28: - - See note on _Amasis_. - -Footnote 29: - - i.e. anointing himself, not in connexion with bathing, but with - exercise in the wrestling-schools. - -Footnote 30: - - The precise remark is uncertain, the text here being corrupt. - -Footnote 31: - - Equivalent to a command to ‘go weep’. - -Footnote 32: - - In antiquity these vessels were of bronze. - -Footnote 33: - - Which was bequeathed ‘to the wisest’. It was given to Thales, who - passed it on to another, and the process was repeated till it came - back to Thales, whereupon he dedicated it to Apollo. - - - - - ON OLD MEN IN PUBLIC LIFE - - -It is well known, Euphanes, that as an admirer of Pindar you [Sidenote: -783 B] are fond of quoting his ‘fine and forcible words’: - - _When struggle is afoot, excuses - Cast a deep cloud on valour._ - -In connexion with the struggles of public life timidity and weakness can -find plenty of excuses, but as a last and most desperate plea they urge -‘advancing years’. This is their pretext _par excellence_ for blunting -ambition and putting it out of countenance. They argue that there is a -fitting close to a public, as much as to an athletic, career. For these -reasons [Sidenote: C] I think it well to take my own ordinary -reflections upon ‘old men in public life’ and lay them before yourself. -They may prevent either of us from deserting that long companionship -which has hitherto followed a common path, and from abandoning that -public life which may be regarded as a familiar friend from youth up, in -order to adopt another which is unfamiliar, and with which there is no -time for us to become thoroughly intimate. I would have us abide by our -original principle, and determine that life and the worthy life shall -end together. It is not for us to convert the brief remainder into a -confession that the bulk of our time has been wastefully applied to no -good purpose. [Sidenote: D] - -It is not, indeed, true—as some one told Dionysius—that ‘despotism is a -fine shroud’. In his case the combination of absolutism with injustice -was only made all the more complete a calamity by the fact that it never -ceased. It was therefore a shrewd remark of Diogenes, when at a later -date he saw Dionysius’ son in a humble private station at Corinth. -‘Dionysius,’ said he, ‘you are far from receiving your deserts. Instead -of living a free and fearless life here with us, you ought to have been -there, housed in the despot’s palace and made to live in it, like your -father, till old age.’ It is different with constitutional and -democratic statesmanship. When a man has learned to show himself a -profitable subject as well as a profitable ruler, he [Sidenote: E] does -indeed obtain at death a ‘fine shroud’, in the shape of the good name -earned by his life. For this—to quote Simonides— - - _Is the last thing to sink beneath the ground_, - -except in cases where high human interests and noble zeal are earlier to -fail and die than natural desires. - -Are the active and divine elements of our being more evanescent than the -passionate and corporeal? That were an unworthy view to hold; as -unworthy as to accept the doctrine that the [Sidenote: F] only thing of -which we never weary is making gain. On the contrary, we should improve -upon Thucydides, and regard as ‘_the only thing that never ages_’ not -‘_the love of honour_‘, but that public spirit and activity which even -ants and bees maintain till the end. No one has ever seen old age -convert a bee into a drone. Yet there are some who claim that public men -who have passed their prime should sit and be fed in seclusion at home, -allowing their practical abilities to rust away in idleness. [Sidenote: -784] Cato used to say that, to the many plagues of its own from which -old age suffers, there is no justification for deliberately adding the -disgrace of vice. There are many vices, but none can do more than weak -and cowardly inactivity to disgrace a man in years—a man who skulks away -from the public offices to look after a houseful of women, or to -supervise gleaners and reapers in the country. - - _Where now - Is Oedipus? Where the famed riddles now?_ - -It is one thing to wait till old age before commencing public life, and -to be like Epimenides, who—so they say—fell asleep a youth and fifty -years afterwards awoke an old man. If, in [Sidenote: B] such a case, one -were to divest himself of that quiet habit which has lasted all his -life, and were to plunge into struggles and worries with which he was -unfamiliar, and for which he was not trained by intercourse with public -affairs or with mankind, there would be room for remonstrance. We might -say, as the Pythian priestess said, ‘_You come too late_’ in your quest -of office and leadership. You are past the time for knocking at the door -of the Presidency. You are like some blundering reveller whose surprise -visit is not made till night; or like some stranger who is in quest, not -of a new district or country, but of a new life, about which you know -nothing. If Simonides says - - _The State is a man’s teacher_, - -it is true only of those who have the time to change their teacher and -learn a new lesson—a lesson slowly and laboriously acquired by means of -many a struggle and experience, and only when it [Sidenote: C] can take -its hold sufficiently early on a natural genius for bearing toils and -troubles with equanimity. - -To resume. We find that, on the contrary, it is striplings and youths -whom sensible men do their best to keep out of public business. Witness -our laws, under which the crier in the Assembly, when inviting speech -and advice, calls upon the platform in the first instance not an -Alcibiades or a Pytheas, but persons over fifty. Foolish audacity and -lack of experience [Sidenote: D] are nowhere so out of place as in a -deliberator or a judge.[34] Cato, when past eighty and on his defence, -said it was hard to have to defend himself before one set of people -after having lived with another. It is agreed on all hands that the -measures of Caesar—the conqueror of Antony—became considerably more -regal and good for the public towards the end of his life. Once, when by -stern application of custom and law he was correcting the rising -generation, and they made an outcry, his own words were: ‘Young men, -listen to an old man to whom old men listened [Sidenote: E] when he was -young.’ It was in old age, too, that the statesmanship of Pericles -reached its greatest influence. This was the time when he induced the -Athenians to enter upon the war, and when he successfully opposed their -ill-timed eagerness to fight a battle against sixty thousand -men-at-arms, by all but sealing up the public armouries and the locks of -the gates. As for what Xenophon writes of Agesilaus, it is best to quote -verbatim. _‘Is there any youth with whom this old man did not compare to -advantage? Who in the prime of life was so formidable to an enemy as -Agesilaus was at the most advanced age? Of whom was the foe so glad to -be rid as of Agesilaus, though he was old [Sidenote: F] when his end -came? Who inspired such courage in his own side as Agesilaus, although -close upon the end of life? What young man was more regretted by his -friends than Agesilaus, though he died when full of years?_’ - -Well, if time was no hindrance to the great actions of men like these, -what of us, who nowadays enjoy the luxury of a public life which admits -of no despots, no fighting, no sieges, but only of warless contests and -of ambitions which are for the most part settled by just means according -to law and reason? Are we [Sidenote: 785] to play the coward? Must we -confess that we are the inferiors, not merely of the commanders and -popular leaders of those days, but of the poets, leaders of thought, and -actors? Take Simonides. He won choric victories in old age, as is -evident from the last lines of the epigram: - - _And withal to Simonides fell the glory and prize of the poet; - Fell to Leoprepes’ son, come to his eightieth year._ - -Take Sophocles. It is said that, when his sons charged him with being in -his dotage, he read in his defence the entrance ode of the _Oedipus at -Colonus_, beginning: - - _To this land of the steed, O stranger, - To the goodliest homes on earth, - Thou hast come—to the white Colonus, - Fond haunt of the nightingale, - Where her clear voice trills its sorrow - In the green of the leafy dell...._ - -a lyric which won such admiration that he left the court, as it -[Sidenote: B] might have been the theatre, amid the applause and cheers -of the audience. A little epigram, admitted to be by Sophocles, contains -the words: - - _Five years and fifty Sophocles had seen, - Ere for Herodotus he wrought a song._ - -Take Philemon, the comic poet, and Alexis. They were still putting plays -upon the stage, still winning crowns, when death overtook them. Take -Polus, the tragedian. Eratosthenes and Philochorus inform us that, -shortly before his end, and when [Sidenote: C] he was seventy, he acted -eight tragedies in four days. - -Is it, I say, creditable that old men of the platform should show a -poorer spirit than old men of the stage? That they should retire from -the sacred contests—for ‘sacred’ these veritably are—and give up the -rôle of the public man in exchange for goodness knows what other part? -From king, say, to farmer is a descent indeed. Demosthenes calls it -cruel treatment of the _Paralus_, to make that sacred warship carry -cargoes of timber, vine-stakes, and cattle for Meidias. But suppose a -public man abandons the Presidentship of Games, his seat on the Federal -Board, his high place in the Sacred League, and is found [Sidenote: D] -measuring out barley-meal and olive-cake, or shearing sheep. It cannot -but look as if he were needlessly courting the status of ‘old worn-out -horse’. As for leaving a public career to engage in vulgar and petty -trade, one might as well take some self-respecting lady, strip off her -gown, give her an apron, and keep her in a tavern. Turn public ability -to mere business and money-making, and its rank and character [Sidenote: -E] are lost. - -Or if, as a last alternative, people choose to talk of ‘ease and -enjoyment’, when they mean luxurious self-indulgence; if they recommend -the public man to adopt that process of idle senile decay, I hardly know -which of two ugly comparisons will best hit off such a life. Shall I say -it is a case of sailors taking ‘Aphrodite-holiday’ and keeping it up for -ever, without waiting till their ship is berthed, but deserting it while -still on the voyage? Or is it a case of ‘Heracles-chez-Omphale’—as some -sorry humourists depict him—wearing a saffron gown and quietly allowing -Lydian handmaids to fan him and braid his hair? Are we to treat our -public man in that way? To strip off his [Sidenote: F] lion’s-skin, lay -him on a couch, and feast him, with lute and flute lulling him all the -while? Or should we not take warning by the retort of Pompey the Great -to Lucullus? The latter, after his campaigns and public services, had -given himself up to baths, dinners, social entertainments in the -daytime, profound indolence, and new-fangled notions in the way of -house-building. Meanwhile he accused Pompey of a fondness for place and -power unsuited to his years. Pompey replied that for an old man -effeminacy was more unseasonable than office. When he was [Sidenote: -786] ill and the doctor ordered him fieldfares—the bird being then out -of season and difficult to procure—and when some one told him that -Lucullus had a large number in his preserves, he refused to send for or -receive one, exclaiming, ‘What? Pompey could not live but for the luxury -of Lucullus?’ - -It may be true that nature ordinarily seeks pleasure and delight. But, -with an old man, the body has become incapable of all pleasures except a -few which are essential. Not only is it the case that - - _The Queen of Love turns weary from the old_, - -[Sidenote: B] as Euripides has it. Though they may retain the appetite -for eating and drinking—generally in a dulled or toothless form—they -find a difficulty in whetting the edge or sharpening the teeth even of -that. It is in the mind that one must lay up a stock of pleasures, -though not of the mean and ignoble kind indicated by Simonides, when he -told those who reproached him with avarice that, though age had robbed -him of other joys, he had still one left to support his declining -years—the joy of money-making. In public activity there are pleasures of -the greatest and noblest sort, such as we may believe to be the only, or -the chief, enjoyment of the gods themselves—I mean those which result -from a beneficent deed or a fine achievement. - -Nicias the painter was so taken up with his artistic work that he was -often obliged to ask his servants whether he had had his [Sidenote: C] -bath or his breakfast. Archimedes stuck so closely to his drawing-board -that, in order to anoint him, his attendants had to drag him away and -strip him by force. He then went on drawing his diagrams in the ointment -on his body. Carus the flutist (an acquaintance of your own) used to say -that people did not know how much more pleasure he himself got from -playing than he gave to others; otherwise an audience would be paid to -listen instead of paying. Can we fail to perceive how great are the -pleasures derived from fine actions and public-spirited achievements by -those who put high qualities to use? Nor is it by means of those -effeminate titillations which soft and agreeable movements exert upon -the flesh. The ticklings of the flesh [Sidenote: D] are spasmodic, -fickle, intermittent, whereas the pleasures of noble deeds—the creations -of the true statesman’s art—will bear the soul aloft in grandeur and -pride and joy, as if, I will not say upon the ‘_golden wings_’ of -Euripides, but upon those ‘_celestial pinions_’ described by Plato. - -Remember the instances of which you have so often heard. Epaminondas, -when asked what had been his most pleasurable experience, replied, -‘Having been victorious at Leuctra while [Sidenote: E] my father and -mother were still alive.’ When Sulla first reached Rome after purging -Italy of its civil wars, he could not sleep a wink that night. As he has -written in his own _Notes and Recollections_, so elated was his mind -with the greatness of his joy and happiness, that it seemed to walk on -air. If we admit, with Xenophon, that ‘_no hearing is so agreeable as -praise_‘, no sight, recollection, or reflection is so fraught with -gratification as the contemplation of exploits of our own in the -conspicuous public arena of office and statesmanship. Not but what, when -[Sidenote: F] a grateful goodwill testifies to our achievements, and -when there is a rivalry of commendation productive of well-earned -popularity, our merit acquires a gloss and brilliance which adds to our -sense of pleasure. - -Therefore, instead of permitting our reputation to wither in our old age -like an athlete’s crown, we must be constantly adopting new devices and -making fresh efforts to enliven the sense of past obligation, to enhance -it, and to make it permanent. We must act like the craftsmen who were -required to provide for the security of the Delian ship. They used to -replace unsound timbers by others, and, by means of insertions and -repairs, were regarded as keeping the vessel immortal and indestructible -from [Sidenote: 787] the oldest times. Reputation is like flame. There -is no difficulty in keeping it alive; it merely requires a little -feeding with fuel. But let either of them become extinct and cold, and -it will take some trouble to rekindle. - -Lampis, the shipowner, was once asked how he made his fortune. ‘Making -the big one,’ he answered, ‘was easy enough; but it was a long and hard -business to make the little one.’ So with political power and -reputation. Though not easy to get in the first instance, anything will -suffice to maintain and increase them when once they are great. It is as -with a friend, when once he becomes such. He does not look for a large -number of important services in order to retain his friendship; -[Sidenote: B] small tokens, consistently shown, will keep his constant -affection. Nor are the confidence and friendship of the people -perpetually calling for you to open your purse, to play the champion, or -to hold an office. They are retained by mere public spirit—by being in -no haste to desert or shirk the burden of care and watchfulness. - -Campaigns are not matters of everlastingly facing the enemy, fighting, -and besieging. They have also their times of sacrifice, their occasional -social gatherings, their periods of ample leisure, when jest and -nonsense are toward. And why should one look upon public life with -dread, as being laborious, wearisome, and devoid of consolations, seeing -that the theatre, processions, awards, ‘_dances of the Muses and -Gladsomeness_,’ and honour [Sidenote: C] after honour to the gods relax -the stern brow of the Bureau or the Chamber, and yield a manifold return -of inviting entertainment? - -In the next place jealousy, the greatest bane of public life, is less -severe upon old age. For, to quote Heracleitus, ‘_dogs bark at the man -they do not know_.’ Though jealousy may fight with the beginner at the -doors of the platform and refuse him access, no savageness or fierceness -is shown to a man of familiar and established reputation, but he finds -friendly admittance. For this reason some have compared jealousy to -smoke. In the case of beginners, during the process of kindling, it -pours forth in clouds; when they are in full blaze, it disappears. And -while [Sidenote: D] people resist and dispute other forms of -superiority—in merit, birth, or public spirit—through a belief that any -acknowledgement to others means so much derogation to themselves, the -primacy which is due to time—‘seniority’ in the proper sense—is conceded -without a grudge. Respect paid to the aged has the unique quality of -doing more honour to the giver than to the recipient. - -Moreover it is not every one who expects to attain to the power derived -from wealth, eloquence, or wisdom; whereas no public man despairs of -winning the esteem and distinction to which age gradually leads. - -Imagine a navigator, who has managed his ship safely in the face of -contrary winds and waves, and then, when the weather [Sidenote: E] -becomes fair and calm, wishes to lay her to. It is just as strange when -a man has fought his ship in a long battle with jealousies, and then, -after they are quietly laid, backs out of public life, and, in -abandoning his activities, abandons his partners and associates. The -more time there has been, the more friends and fellow-workers he has -made; but he is neither in a position to lead them with him off the -stage, as a poet does his chorus, [Sidenote: F] nor has he the right to -leave them in the lurch. A long public life is like an old tree. To pull -it up is no easy task, because of its many roots and its entanglement -with many interests, which involve worse wrenching and disturbance when -you leave them than when you stay. - -And if political conflict does leave you some remnant of jealousy or -antagonism to face when you are old, it is better to quell it by means -of your position than to turn your back and retire without armour or -weapons of defence. People are not so ready to attack you out of -jealousy when you are still in action as they are out of contempt when -you give it up. - -[Sidenote: 788] We may also appeal to the great Epaminondas and his -remark to the Thebans. It was winter at the time, and the Arcadians were -inviting them to enter the city and live in the houses. This he refused -to allow, observing: ‘At the present time they come to look at you and -admire your wrestling and military exercises; but if they see you -sitting by the fire and chewing your beans, they will regard you as no -better than themselves.’ So with an aged man. When making a speech, -transacting business, or receiving honours, he is a dignified spectacle; -but when he lies all day on a couch or sits in the corner of a public -[Sidenote: B] resort talking drivel and wiping his nose, he is an object -of contempt. This is precisely what Homer teaches, if you read him -rightly. Nestor, who was campaigning at Troy, received high respect and -honour; whereas Peleus and Laertes, the stay-at-homes, were despised, -and counted for nothing. - -Nay, even intellectual power begins to fail those who have let -themselves relax. Idleness gradually renders it feeble and flaccid, in -the absence of some necessary exercise of thought to keep the logical -and practical faculty perpetually alive and in trim. - - _Like glossy bronze, ’tis use that makes it shine._ - -Bodily weakness may be a drawback to public activity in the [Sidenote: -C] case of those who, in spite of their years, make the platform or the -Cabinet their goal. But it is more than compensated by the advantage of -their caution and prudence. They do not dash into public affairs with -the expression of opinions prompted by error or vanity as the case may -be, and carrying the mob with them in as excited a condition as a stormy -sea; but they deal in a mild and reasonable fashion with such matters as -arise. It is for this reason that, in times of disaster or alarm, -communities feel the need of a Board of Government consisting of senior -men. Often they have fetched back from the country [Sidenote: D] an old -man who neither asked nor wished it, and have compelled him to put his -hand to the helm and steer the ship of State into safety, while they -thrust aside generals and popular leaders, despite all their ability to -shout, to talk without taking breath, and also, no doubt, to make -‘_sturdy stand and doughty fight_’ against the enemy. When Chares, the -son of Theochares—a man in the prime of bodily strength and -condition—was brought into the ring in opposition to Timotheus and -Iphicrates by the public speakers of Athens, with the claim that ‘this -is the kind of general the Athenians should have’, Timotheus [Sidenote: -E] replied: ‘By no manner of means. No doubt that is the sort needed to -carry the general’s baggage; but the general should be one who “_sees -before and after_”, and whose calculations as to policy no distractions -can disturb.’ Sophocles said ‘he was glad that old age had enabled him -to escape from sexual passion—a fierce and mad master.’ But in public -life we have to escape, not from one master—the love of women—but from -many madder still; from contentiousness, vanity, and the desire to be -first and greatest—a malady most fertile in envy, jealousy, and -[Sidenote: F] feud. Some of these feelings are abated or dulled, some -are altogether chilled and quenched, by old age. And though old age may -do something to diminish our zest for action, it does more to guard us -from the intemperate heat of passion, so that we can bring a sober and -steady reason to bear upon our thoughts. - -By all means, in dealing with one who begins to play the youth when his -hair is grey, let it be—as it is considered—sound warning to say: - - _Misguided man, stay quiet in thy bed._ - -[Sidenote: 789] Let us remonstrate with an old man when he rises from a -long privacy, as from a bed of sickness, and bestirs himself to obtain a -command or an official post. But suppose a man has lived a life of -public action and thoroughly played the part. To prevent him from going -on till ‘finis and the torch’, to call him back and bid him change the -road he has long followed, is utterly unfeeling, and bears no -resemblance to the case just given. If an old man has his wreath on and -is scenting himself in readiness to marry, there is nothing unreasonable -in trying to dissuade him by quoting the lines addressed to Philoctetes: - - _But, pray, where is the bride, where the young maid, - Would welcome thee? Rare bridegroom thou, poor soul!_ - -Nay, they are fond of making jests of the kind at their own [Sidenote: -B] expense: - - _I’m marrying old, and for the neighbours’ good: - I know it._ - -But when a man has been long married, and has lived with his wife for -years without a fault to find, to tell him that he should divorce her -because he is old, and that he should live by himself or get a wretched -concubine in place of his lawful spouse, is the very extreme of -absurdity. In the same way when an aged man seeks to enter -politics—Chlidon the farmer, Lampon the ship’s captain, or some -philosopher from the Garden[35]—there is some reason in admonishing him, -and keeping him to the state of inactivity to which he has been used. -But it is urging a public man to act [Sidenote: C] with injustice and -ingratitude, when we take hold of a Phocion, a Cato, or a Pericles, and -say, ‘Sir Athenian—or Sir Roman— - - _Thine age is wither’d and thy head o’erfrosted_; - -therefore sue for a divorce from statesmanship, have done with the -worrying business of the platform and the Board of War, and make haste -into the country, to live with farming “for a waiting-maid” or to occupy -the rest of your days with thrift and the keeping of accounts.’ - -Well, but (it may be asked) what of the soldier in the comedy with his - - _Discharged! No pay! because of my white hair?_ - -Quite true, my friend. The War-God’s servants must be in the prime of -manly vigour. Their business is with - - _War and war’s baleful work_, - -in which, though an old man’s grey hair may be hidden by his [Sidenote: -D] helmet, - - _Yet in secret his thews are aweary_, - -and, though the spirit be willing, the strength can no longer respond. - -But the ministers of Zeus—the God of Council, of Assembly, of the -State—are not asked for deeds of hand and foot, but for counsel and -foresight. We ask them for advice, not such as to evoke roars of mere -noise in the Assembly, but full of sense and shrewdness, and safe to -follow. In their case the despised white hair and wrinkles become the -visible tokens of experience. They suggest moral force, and are -therefore a help to persuasion. [Sidenote: E] It is the part of youth to -obey; of old age to guide; and that state is safest where - - _Best are the old men’s counsels, - And best the young man’s spear._ - -Homer’s - - _And first he summon’d to council the old men mighty-hearted - By the side of the ship of Nestor_, - -is a touch greatly admired. For the same reason the Select Board -associated with the kings at Sparta was called by the Pythian oracle -‘elder-born’, but by Lycurgus ‘old men’ _sans phrase_, while the Roman -Council is called _Senatus_ down to the present time. The law crowns a -man with the circlet and the wreath, Nature crowns him with grey hair, -and both are the venerable emblems of sovereign rank. Moreover, the -words [Sidenote: F] _geras_, ‘prerogative,’ and _gerairein_, ‘honour -with prerogative’—derived from _geron_, ‘old man’—retain a dignified -sense, not because the old man’s bath is warmed and his bed a softer -one, but because he amounts to a king in the state by virtue of his -wisdom; and wisdom is like a late-fruiting plant, it is only in old age -that nature brings out its special excellence and perfect quality. - -When the king of kings prayed to the gods - - _Would that among the Achaeans were ten such as he to advise me!_ - -[Sidenote: 790] —meaning Nestor—not one of the ‘_valorous_’ and -‘_prowess-breathing_’ Achaeans complained. They all admitted that not -only in statesmanship, but in war also, age was of great moment, since - - _More worth is one sage thought than many a hand_, - -and one rational and cogent judgement achieves the finest and most -important results in public affairs. - -Now kingship, the most complete and comprehensive form of public -activity, is full of cares, labours, and preoccupations. Seleucus, it -was said, used to declare that if ordinary people knew what a business -it was merely to write and read so many letters, they would not pick up -the crown if they found it [Sidenote: B] lying in the street. And the -story goes that, when Philip was proposing to encamp in an excellent -position, but was told that there was no fodder for the pack-animals, he -exclaimed: ‘Good Heavens! what is our life worth, when we are obliged to -suit it to the convenience of our asses?’ Ought we then to give the same -advice to a king when he has grown old? Bid him lay aside the crown and -the purple, take to a cloak and a crutched stick, and live in the -country, for fear people should think it officious and unseasonable of -him to be reigning when he is grey? - -But we have no right to talk in this way about an Agesilaus, or a Numa, -or a Darius. Neither then should we compel a Solon [Sidenote: C] to -leave the Council of the Areopagus, nor a Cato the Senate, nor yet urge -a Pericles to leave popular government to look after itself. It is -contrary to reason that in our youth we should bounce upon the platform, -spend upon the public all the passionate licence of our ambition, and -then, when age arrives and brings the wisdom of experience, desert and -betray our public standing like a woman whom we have used at our -pleasure. - -In Aesop, when the hedgehog wanted to pick off his ticks, the fox would -not let him. ‘These are glutted,’ said he, ‘and [Sidenote: D] if you get -rid of them, hungry ones will be at you in their place.’ So with public -life. If it is perpetually shedding the old men, it will necessarily be -plagued with young ones, who are thirsting for notoriety and power but -devoid of political sense. How can they be otherwise, if they are to -have no elderly statesman to watch and learn from? A ship’s captain is -not made by treatises on navigation. He must often have stood upon the -quarter-deck and watched the struggle with wave and wind and stormy -nights, when - - _The sailor on the brine longs sore - For Tyndareus’ twin sons._ - -And can the handling of a State and the persuading of Assembly -[Sidenote: E] or Council be rightly left to a young man because he has -read a book or taken down a lecture on statesmanship in the Lyceum? -Though he has not taken his stand many a time beside rudder-rope and -tiller, leaned first to this side and then to that, while generals and -public leaders were pitting their knowledge and experience against each -other, and so learned his lesson in the midst of dangers and -difficulties? Beyond question, No! For the education and training of the -young, if for no other reason, old men should play a public part. A -teacher of letters or of music himself reads or plays a passage over -first by way of example [Sidenote: F] to his pupils. So the authority on -statesmanship must guide a young man, not simply by talking or -suggesting from outside, but by the practical administration of public -business. It is by deeds as well as by words that he will mould him to -the true shape, filled with the breath of life. It is training of this -kind—not in the schools where you practise safe forms of wrestling under -mannerly professors, but in contests truly Olympian and Pythian—that -makes one, as Simonides puts it, - - _Keep pace, as with the steed the wearied colt_; - -[Sidenote: 791] —Aristeides with Cleisthenes, Cimon with Aristeides, -Phocion with Chabrias, Cato with Fabius Maximus, Pompeius with Sulla, -Polybius with Philopoemen. It was by attaching themselves when young to -older men, by using them as supports to their own growth, by being -raised to their standard of statesmanlike achievement, that they -acquired the political experience which brought them fame and power. - -When certain professors declared that the claim of Aeschines, the -Academic philosopher, to have been a pupil of Carneades was contrary to -fact, he replied, ‘O yes: I was a disciple of Carneades at the time when -age had taken all the fuss and noise [Sidenote: B] out of his teaching -and reduced it to practical and serviceable shape.’ With the -statesmanship of an old man, however, it is not merely the talking, but -the deeds, that lose all ostentation and itch for notoriety. They tell -us that, when the iris has grown old and exhausted all crude exuberance -of perfume, its fragrance gains in sweetness. So with the views and -suggestions of the old. There is no crudeness in them, but always a -quality of quiet solidity. For this reason, as I have said, we must have -elderly men in public life. Plato speaks of mixing water with neat wine -as the bringing of a ‘frenzied god’ to sanity by the [Sidenote: C] -‘chastening of another who is sober’. So when young spirits in the -Assembly are a-boil with the intoxication of glory and ambition, we need -the old men’s caution to qualify them and to eliminate their mad excess -of fire. - -There is another consideration. It is an error to suppose that -statesmanship is like a voyage or a campaign—carried on for an ulterior -object and discontinued when that is attained. Statesmanship is not a -public burden, to be borne only so long as needs must. It is the career -of a civilized being with a gift for citizenship and society, and with a -natural disposition to live a life of public influence, worthy aims, and -social helpfulness for as long as occasion calls. - -The right course therefore is to _be_ a public man, not to _have_ been -one; just as it is right to speak the truth, not to [Sidenote: D] _have_ -spoken it; to act honestly, not to _have_ so acted; to love one’s -country and fellow-citizens, not to _have_ loved them. Those are -Nature’s objects, and where men are not utterly demoralized by idleness -and effeminacy, her promptings are such as these: - - _Thy sire begat thee for rich use to men_, - -and - - _Ne’er let us cease from service to mankind._ - -To urge the plea of ill-health or disablement is to blame disease and -injury, not old age. Young men are often sickly, old men often vigorous. -It is therefore not the old whom we should discourage, but the -incapable. It is the capable whom [Sidenote: E] we should encourage, not -the young. Aridaeus was young, and Antigonus old; but while Antigonus -annexed nearly the whole of Asia, Aridaeus was like the ‘super’ upon the -stage—a king with nothing to say, and a butt for whoever happened to be -in power. To demand of the sophist Prodicus or the poet Philetas—who, -young though they might be, were thin, sickly, and constantly taking to -their beds through ill-health—that they should take up public life, were -folly. But it were folly also to hinder old men like Phocion, or -Masinissa the African, or the Roman Cato, from holding office or -military command. The [Sidenote: F] Athenians being set upon an -ill-timed war, Phocion ordered that every man under sixty should take up -arms and serve. When this made them angry, he said, ‘There is no -hardship. I, who am to be with you in command, am over eighty.’ And of -Masinissa Polybius relates that he died when he was ninety, leaving a -child of four, of whom he was the father. Shortly before his death he -beat the Carthaginians in a great battle, [Sidenote: 792] and the next -day was seen in front of his tent eating a loaf of cheap coarse bread. -To expressions of surprise he answered that he did so to keep himself in -training. - - _For like to goodly bronze, it shines in use, - While a house crumbles, if left idle long_, - -says Sophocles. We may say the same of that glossy brightness of the -mind, to which we owe calculation, memory, and sound judgement. - -For the same reason it is said that wars and campaigns make better kings -than inactivity. Attalus, the brother of Eumenes, was so thoroughly -enervated by long peace and [Sidenote: B] idleness that Philopoemen, one -of his intimates, had simply to shepherd him and keep him fat. In fact, -the Romans used to inquire of arrivals from Asia, whether ‘the king had -any influence with Philopoemen’. It would be hard to find a Roman -general more able than Lucullus, so long as he kept his intellect braced -with action. But he surrendered himself to a life of inactivity, stayed -at home, thought of nothing, and became as lifeless and shrunken as a -sponge in a calm. Afterwards, in his old age, he so tamely accepted a -certain freedman, Callisthenes, for his keeper, that the man [Sidenote: -C] was thought to be bewitching him with spells and drugs, till at last -his brother Marcus drove the fellow away and himself took to managing -and tutoring him for the short remainder of his life. On the other hand, -Darius, the father of Xerxes, used to say that he became his wisest in -times of danger; and Ateas the Scythian declared that, when he had -nothing to do, he could see nothing to distinguish him from his grooms. -When some one asked the elder Dionysius if he had time to spare, he -replied: ‘Heaven forbid I ever should!’ Whereas a bow, they tell us, is -broken by stringing it tight, a mind is broken by leaving it loose. If a -musician gives up listening [Sidenote: D] for pitch, a geometrician the -solving of problems, an arithmetician the constant habit of calculation, -old age will enfeeble the ability along with the loss of its exercise, -although the art in these cases is not a ‘practic’ one, but a -‘theoretic’. In the case of the special ability of the statesman—his -caution, wisdom, and justice, together with an experienced knack of -hitting the right language at the right time; that is to say, a faculty -for creating persuasion—it is kept in good condition by constant speech, -action, calculation, and judicial decision. It would be a dire mistake -for it to abandon such activities [Sidenote: E] and permit all those -important virtues to leak away from the mind. For it naturally means a -decline of kindly interest in man and society—a thing which should be -without limit or end. - -Suppose your father had been Tithonus. Suppose, though he was immortal, -old age had made him require close and constant care. You would not, I -imagine, have run away and repudiated the task of tending him, talking -to him, and helping him, just because you had ‘borne the burden for a -long time’. Well, your fatherland—or ‘motherland’ as it is called in -Crete—has claims prior to those of parents, and greater. Your country’s -life has been a long one, but she is not without old age. She is -[Sidenote: F] not sufficient to herself, but is in perpetual need of -watchful and considerate help. She therefore grasps at the statesman and -holds him back: - - _Clutching his garment she stays him, though eager he be for - departure._ - -You are aware that I have performed my public duty at many a Pythian -festival. But you would not say ‘Plutarch, you have done enough in the -way of sacrifices, processions, and choruses. You are now in years; it -is time to put off your wreath; age entitles you to leave the shrine -alone’. Well, look at your own duty in the same way. In the sacred -service of the State you are coryphaeus and prophet, and it is not for -you to abandon that worship of Zeus, God of State and Assembly, in which -you have been so long initiated and are so thoroughly versed. - -[Sidenote: 793] Permit me now to leave the arguments for quitting public -life, and to examine another point. We must beware of inflicting upon -our old age an unbecoming or exacting task, when so many portions of -public work are so well suited to that time of life. If it had been -proper for us to go on singing all our days, there are at our disposal -many keys and modes, or, as the musicians call them, ‘systems.’ Our -right course in our old age would have been to cultivate, not a mode -both high and sharp, but one combining ease with appropriate character. -And since Nature prompts mankind to act and speak—even more [Sidenote: -B] than it prompts the swan to sing—until the end, our duty is not to -lay action aside, like a lyre of too high a pitch, but to lower the key -and adapt it to such forms of public effort as are light, unexacting, -and within an old man’s compass. We do not leave our bodies entirely -without muscular exercise because we cannot use the spade and the -jumping-weights, or hurl the discus, or practise fencing, as we used to -do. We swing or walk, and in some cases the breathing is exercised and -warmth stimulated by playing a gentle game of ball, or by conversation. - -On the one hand, then, do not let us allow ourselves to become -[Sidenote: C] stiff and torpid from inactivity. On the other, let us not -undertake any and every official position, clutch at any and every kind -of public work, and bring such an exposure upon old age that it is -driven to exclaim in despair: - - _Right hand, how fain art thou to grasp the spear! - How vain thy longing, in thy strengthlessness!_ - -Even in the prime of strength a man wins no credit if he tries to take -on his shoulders the whole pack of public business, and [Sidenote: D] -refuses—like Zeus, according to the Stoics—to leave anything to others; -if he insinuates himself everywhere and has his finger in everything, -through an insatiable greed for notoriety or through jealousy of any one -who contrives to get a share of honour and power in the community. But -when a man is quite old, then, apart from the discredit, wretchedly hard -work is entailed by that itch for office which is always courting every -ballot-box, that meddlesomeness which lies in wait for every opportunity -of acting on a jury or a committee, that ambition which snaps up every -appointment as delegate or proctor. [Sidenote: E] Such work is a heavy -tax on an old man, even when people are well-disposed. But the opposite -may very well be the case. For young men hate him because he leaves them -no opportunities and prevents them from coming to the front; while the -rest of the community looks upon his itch for office and precedence with -the same disapproval as upon the itch of other old men for money and -pleasure. - -When Bucephalus was growing old, Alexander, being unwilling to overwork -him, used to ride some other horse while reviewing the phalanx and -getting it into position before the [Sidenote: F] battle. Then, after -giving the word for the day, he changed his mount to Bucephalus, and at -once led the charge and tried the fortunes of war. In the same way a -sensible public man—in this case handling his own reins—will, when in -years, hold aloof from unnecessary effort, leaving more vigorous persons -to deal with the minor matters of state, but himself playing a zealous -part in great ones. - -Athletes keep their bodies from all contact with necessary labours and -in perfect trim for useless ones. We, on the contrary, will leave petty -little details alone, and will keep ourselves in reserve for matters of -moment. No doubt, as Homer says, - - _To the young all labours are seemly_, - -and the world gives consent and approval, calling them ‘public-spirited’ -and ‘energetic’ when they do a large number of little things, and -‘noble’ and ‘lofty-minded’ when they do brilliant and distinguished -things. At that time of life there are [Sidenote: 794] occasions when a -venturesome aggressiveness is more or less in season and wears a grace -of its own. But what when an elderly man consents to perform routine -services to the public, such as letting out taxes, or superintending -harbours and markets? What when he seizes opportunities of being sent on -a mission to some governor or other powerful personage—a position for -which there is no necessity, which contains no dignity, and which -necessitates time-serving and complaisance? To my mind, my friend, his -case is one for regret and commiseration; some may even think it -distressingly vulgar. - -Not even positions of authority are any longer a suitable [Sidenote: B] -sphere for him, unless they are of high rank and importance; such a -position, for example, as you now hold in the Presidentship of the -Areopagite Council, not to mention the distinguished rank of -Amphictyon,[36] which your country has imposed upon you all your life, -with its - - _Welcome toil and labour sweet to bear._ - -Even these honours we should not seek, but should make from holding -them. We should ask, not for them, but to be excused from them. It -should seem, not that we are taking office to ourselves, but that we are -surrendering ourselves to office. The Emperor Tiberius used to say that -a man over sixty should be ashamed of holding out his wrist to a -physician. But he should [Sidenote: C] be more ashamed of holding out -his hand to the public in solicitation of its ‘vote and influence’. That -situation is as humiliating and ignoble as the contrary is honourable -and dignified—I mean when your country chooses you, calls you, and waits -for you, and when you come down amidst respect and welcome, a ‘reverend -signior’ indeed, to meet your distinction with gracious acceptance. - -Similarly with speaking in the Assembly. A man of advanced age should -not be perpetually springing upon the platform and crowing back to every -cock that crows. Young men are like horses, and he should not, by -constantly grappling with [Sidenote: D] them and irritating them, lose -control of their respect, or encourage the practice and habit of -resistance to the reins. He should sometimes leave them to make a -restive plunge for distinction, keeping out of the way and not -interfering, unless the matter at stake is vital to the public safety or -to decency and honour. In that case he should not wait to be called, but -should let some one take him by the hand, or carry him in his chair, and -push his way at more than full speed, like Appius Claudius in Roman -history. The Romans had been defeated by Pyrrhus in a great battle, and -Appius heard that the Senate [Sidenote: E] was listening to proposals -for a truce and a peace. This was more than he could bear, and, though -blind of both eyes, along he came in his chair through the Forum to the -Senate House. He went in, planted himself before them, and said: -‘Hitherto I have been distressed at the loss of my sight; now I could -pray to be also unable to hear—that you are meditating so ignoble and -disgraceful a transaction.’ Thereupon, partly by reproaches, partly by -advice and encouragement, he persuaded them to have [Sidenote: F] -immediate recourse to arms and to fight Pyrrhus to a finish for the -prize of Italy. - -Again, when it became manifest that, in acting the demagogue, -Peisistratus was aiming at absolutism, and yet no one ventured to resist -or prevent it, Solon brought out his weapons with his own hands, piled -them in front of his house, and called upon the citizens to help. And -when Peisistratus sent and asked him what gave him the confidence to do -so, he replied, ‘My age.’ - -Things so vital as these, it is true, are rousing enough to fire even -the most worn-out of old men, so long as he possesses the breath of life -at all. Otherwise he will sometimes, as I have said, be showing good -taste if he declines to perform paltry and menial tasks which bring more -worry to the doer than good [Sidenote: 793] to the persons for whom they -are done. There are also occasions when he will wait for the citizens to -call for him, feel the need of him, and come to his house to fetch him. -He is wanted, and therefore his appearance on the scene will carry more -weight. But for the most part, though present, he will be silent and -will leave the younger generation to do the speaking, while he acts as -umpire to the match of political ambition. And if it goes beyond bounds, -he will offer a mild reproof and courteously put an end to outbreaks of -self-assertion, recrimination, or ill-temper. When a motion is wrong, he -will reason with and correct the mover, but without blaming him. When it -is right, he will commend it without reserve and will cheerfully -acquiesce, often surrendering an argumentative victory in order that -[Sidenote: B] a young man may get on in the world and be in good heart. -In some cases he will supply a deficiency while paying a compliment, -like Nestor with his - - _No man, I trow, will find fault with thy words among all the - Achaeans: - None say thee nay. Yet not to an end hast thou brought all the - matter. - True ’tis, thou art yet but young, and myself might be thine own - father._ - -There is a practice still more statesmanlike. One may not merely teach a -lesson openly in public by means of a reproval unaccompanied by any -sting of humiliation or injury to prestige. Still more may be done in -private for persons with good political abilities. We may offer them -kindly suggestions and assistance [Sidenote: C] towards the bringing -forward of useful arguments and public measures, encourage them to high -aims, help them to acquire a distinguished tone of mind, and—as -riding-masters do with their horses—see that at first the people shall -be gentle and docile for them to mount. And if so be a young man should -make a failure, instead of leaving him to despond, we may rouse and -comfort him. It was in this way that the spirits and courage of Cimon -were revived by Aristeides, and those of Themistocles by Mnesiphilus, -when they began by incurring ill-odour and a bad name for forwardness -and recklessness. It is also said of Demosthenes that, when he was in -great distress at his failure [Sidenote: D] in the Assembly, he was -taken to task by a very old man who had heard Pericles, and who told him -that he had no right to despair of himself, seeing that he possessed -gifts so much like those of that eminent person. So when Timotheus was -hissed for his innovations and treated as guilty of an outrage on music, -Euripides bade him keep up his courage, since he would soon be dictating -to his audience. - -At Rome the term of the Vestal Virgins is divided into three stages—one -for learning, one for the performance of the ceremonies, and the third -for teaching. So with the votaries of [Sidenote: E] Artemis at Ephesus; -each is called first a novice, next a priestess, and then a -past-priestess. In the same way the complete statesman is during the -first part of his public career still engaged in learning the mysteries; -during the last part he is engaged in teaching and initiating. - -Whereas to superintend the athletics of others is to take no part in -them oneself, it is otherwise with those who train a youth in public -business and the political arena, and who make sure that for the good of -his country he shall - - _Be speaker of words and eke doer of deeds._ - -They perform good service, not in some petty inconsiderable [Sidenote: -F] part of public life, but in one to which Lycurgus devoted his first -and foremost attention—training the young to give to every old man the -same unfailing obedience as to a lawgiver. What had Lysander in his -mind, when he declared that the finest form of old age is to be found at -Lacedaemon? Did he mean that at Lacedaemon elderly people had the best -opportunities of doing nothing, of lending money, of sitting together -and playing dice, or of meeting together at an early hour to drink? -Surely not. He meant that all persons at that time of life hold, as it -were, a magisterial position; that they are, in a sense, public fathers -or guardians, who not only look after matters of state, but take active -cognisance of everything a young [Sidenote: 796] man may do in connexion -with his training-school, his pastimes, or his style of living. Such a -position makes them an object of fear to wrong-doers, and of respect and -affection to the well-behaved. For young men make a point of cultivating -their society, because of the way in which they encourage steadiness and -nobility of character by sympathy and approbation and without jealousy. - -The last-named feeling is not a becoming one at any time of life. But -whereas in the case of a young man it finds plenty of respectable -names—‘rivalry’, ‘emulation’, ‘ambition’—in an old man it is a coarse -and vulgar sentiment altogether out of place. The aged statesman should -therefore be entirely free from jealousy. He should be no malignant old -tree, [Sidenote: B] unequivocally snubbing the shoots and checking the -growth of plants which spring up beside or beneath it, but should give -them a kindly welcome and every opportunity to cling to him and twine -about him. He should hold young people upright, lead them by the hand, -and foster them, not only by wise suggestion and advice, but by -surrendering to them political tasks which bring honour and distinction, -or which afford scope for services of an innocent nature and yet welcome -and gratifying to the public. - -When a task is a stubborn and arduous one, or when it is like a medicine -which stings and gives pain at the moment, while its beneficial effects -are not produced till afterwards, he [Sidenote: C] should not prescribe -it for young people. Instead of subjecting them in their inexperienced -state to the uproars of an unreasonable mob, he should himself accept -the unpopularity attaching to salutary measures. By this means he will -render a youth both more well-disposed and also more zealous in other -duties. - -Meanwhile it must be remembered that statesmanship does not consist -solely in holding office, acting as envoy, shouting loudly in the -Assembly, and indulging in a fine frenzy of speeches and motions on the -platform. The generality of people may think that these make a -statesman, just as they think that talking [Sidenote: D] from a chair -and delivering lectures based on books make a philosopher. But they fail -to discern the sustained statesmanship or philosophy which is revealed -consistently day after day in actions and conduct. As Dicaearchus used -to say, the word _peripatein_, ‘walk’, has now come to be used of -persons taking a turn in the colonnades rather than of those who are -walking into the country or to see a friend. It is the same with acting -the statesman as it is with acting the philosopher. For Socrates to play -the philosopher there was no arranging of forms, seating himself in a -chair, or observing a fixed time—arranged with his associates—for a -discussion or discourse. He played the philosopher while joking with -you, perhaps, or drinking with you, [Sidenote: E] or possibly -campaigning with you, or at market with you, and finally when he was in -prison and drinking the poison. He was thus the first to show that life -affords scope for philosophy at every moment, in every detail, in every -feeling and circumstance whatsoever. Statesmanship should be regarded in -the same light. Foolish persons, even if they are Ministers of War, or -Secretaries, or platform-speakers, should not be considered as acting -the statesman, but as courting the mob, or making a display, or creating -dissension, or doing public service because they must. But when a man -possesses public spirit and broad interests, and is a keen patriot and a -‘state’s man’ in the literal sense, even if he has never worn official -garb, he is playing the statesman all the time. He does so by -stimulating men of [Sidenote: F] ability, giving advice to those who -need it, lending his help to deliberation, discouraging bunglers, and -fortifying persons of sense. And this does not mean that he goes to the -Assembly Theatre or Senate House out of pride of place when canvassed or -pressed, and, when he gets there, merely puts in an appearance—if he -does so—by way of pastime, as he might at a show or entertainment. It -means that, even if not present in body, he [Sidenote: 797] is present -in spirit; that he asks how the business goes, and is pleased or vexed -as the case may be. - -Aristeides at Athens and Cato at Rome held few public offices; but they -made their whole life a perpetual service to their country. Though -Epaminondas won many a distinguished success as commander-in-chief, he -is no less famous for what he did in Thessaly at a time when he held no -command or office. The generals had plunged the phalanx into a difficult -situation. The enemy was attacking them with his missiles, [Sidenote: B] -and they were in confusion. Epaminondas was therefore summoned from the -ranks, and, after allaying the panic of the army by words of -encouragement, he proceeded to make an orderly disposition of the -phalanx—which was in a state of turmoil—extricated it with ease, posted -it so as to confront the enemy, and compelled him to change his tactics -and retire. - -Once when King Agis was in Arcadia, and was in the act of leading his -army into action in full order of battle, one of the elder Spartans -shouted out that he was proposing to ‘mend one error by another’, -meaning (as Thucydides says) that ‘his [Sidenote: C] present -unseasonable ardour was intended to repair the discredit of his retreat’ -from Argos. Agis listened, took the advice, and retired. Menecrates -actually had a seat placed for him every day at the doors of the -Government Office, and the Ephors frequently rose and consulted him upon -questions of the first importance; so great was his reputation for -wisdom and shrewdness. The story goes that, when he had completely lost -all physical strength and was for the most part confined all day to his -bed, upon the Ephors sending for him to the Agora, he got up and set out -to walk. As he was toiling slowly along, he met [Sidenote: D] some -children on the way, and asked them: ‘Do you know anything more binding -than to obey a master?’ Upon their replying, ‘Lack of the power,’ his -reason told him that this brought his service to an end, and he turned -back home. For though zeal should not fail so long as ability lasts, we -must not put pressure upon it when left helpless. - -Once more, Scipio, whether in the field or in politics, constantly -sought the advice of Gaius Laelius to such an extent as to make some -people say of his achievements that Scipio was the actor, but the author -was Gaius. And Cicero himself acknowledges that the greatest and finest -of the successful measures of his consulship were devised with the help -of the philosopher Publius Nigidius. - -[Sidenote: E] There is, then, nothing to prevent an aged man from -advancing the public good in many a department of statesmanship. He has -the best of means thereto: reason, judgement, plain-speaking, and -‘_thought discreet_‘, as the poets say. It is not merely our hands and -feet or the strength of our bodies that are part and parcel of the -possessions of the State. Most important are the mind and the beauties -of the mind—temperance, justice, and wisdom. It is monstrous that, as -these come late and [Sidenote: F] slowly to their own, our house and -farm and other goods and chattels should get the benefit of them, while, -in a public way, to our country and our fellow-citizens, we make -ourselves of no further use because of ‘time’. For what time takes away -from our powers of active effort is less than what it adds to those of -guidance and statesmanship. It is for this reason that, when Hermes is -represented in an elderly form, though he has no hands or feet, his -virile parts are tense—an indirect way of saying that there is little -need for old men’s bodies to be hard at work, so long as their power of -reasoned speech is—as it ought to be—vigorous and generative. - -Footnote 34: - - The text here is corrupt. - -Footnote 35: - - i.e. Epicurean. - -Footnote 36: - - Member of a religious council which met at Delphi and represented the - chief states of all Greece. - - - - - ADVICE TO MARRIED COUPLES - - -[Sidenote: 138 B] TO POLLIANUS AND EURYDICE WITH PLUTARCH’S BEST WISHES. - -When they were shutting you in your bridal chamber, the ancestral ritual -was duly applied to you by the priestess of Demeter. I believe that now, -if reason also were to take you in hand and join in the nuptial song, it -would prove of some service, and would support the tune as prescribed. - -In the musical world they used to call one of the modes for the flute -‘the Horse-and-Mare’, because, apparently, the strains in that key were -provocative of union between those animals. Well, philosophy has many -excellent sermons to give, but none [Sidenote: C] more worthy of serious -attention than that upon marriage. By it she exerts a spell upon those -who come together as partners in life, and renders them gentle and -tractable to each other. I have, therefore, taken the main points of the -lessons which you have repeatedly heard, brought up as you have been in -the company of Philosophy. I have arranged them in a series of brief -comparisons to make them easier to remember, and am sending them as a -present to you both. In doing so I pray that the Muses may graciously -lend aid to Aphrodite, since, if it is their province to see that a lyre -or a harp shall be in tune, it is no less so to provide that the music -of the married home shall be harmonized by reason and philosophy. When -people in olden times assigned a seat with Aphrodite to Hermes, it was -because [Sidenote: D] the pleasure of marriage stands in special need of -reason; when to Persuasion and the Graces, it was in order that the -married pair might obtain their wishes from each other by means of -persuasion, and not by contention and strife. - - - THE RULES: - - -1. Solon bade the bride eat a piece of quince before coming to the -bridegroom’s arms—apparently an enigmatical suggestion that, as a first -requirement, a pleasant and inviting impression should be gathered from -an agreeable mouth and speech. - -2. In Boeotia, after veiling the bride, they crown her with a wreath of -thorny asparagus. As that plant yields the sweetest eating from among -the roughest prickles, so a bride, if the groom does not run away in -disgust because he finds her difficult and vexatious at first, will -afford him a sweet and gentle companionship. One who shows no patience -with the girl’s first [Sidenote: E] bickerings is as bad as those who -let the ripe grapes go because once they were sour. Many a young bride -is affected in the same way. First experiences disgust her with the -bridegroom, and she makes as great a mistake as if, after enduring the -sting of the bee, she were to abandon the honeycomb. - -3. It is especially at the beginning that married people should beware -of quarrel and friction. Let them note how vessels which have been -mended will at first easily pull to pieces on the slightest occasion, -but as time goes on and they become solid at the seams, it is as much as -fire and iron can do to separate [Sidenote: F] the parts. - -4. Fire is readily kindled in chaff, dry rushes, or hare’s fur, but -quickly goes out unless it gets a further hold upon something capable -both of keeping it in and feeding it. So with that fierce blaze of -passion which is produced in the newly-married by physical enjoyment. -You must not rely upon it nor expect it to last, unless it is built -round the moral character, gets a hold upon your rational part, and so -obtains a permanent vitality. - -5. Doctoring the water is no doubt a quick and easy way of [Sidenote: -139] catching fish, but it renders them bad and uneatable. So when women -work artificially upon their husbands with philtres and spells, and -control them by the agency of pleasure, they have but crazy simpletons -and dotards for their partners. While Circe derived no good from the men -she had bewitched, and made no use of them when turned into swine and -asses, she found the greatest pleasure in the rational companionship of -the wise Odysseus. - -6. A woman who is more desirous of ruling a foolish husband than of -obeying a wise one, is like a traveller who would rather lead a blind -man than follow one who possesses sight and knowledge. - -[Sidenote: B] 7. Why should people disbelieve that Pasiphae, though -consort to a king, fell in love with an ox, when they see that some -women find a strict and continent husband wearisome, and prefer to live -with one who is as much a mass of ungoverned sensuality as a dog or a -goat? - -8. When a rider is too weak or effeminate to vault upon a horse, he -teaches the animal itself to bend its legs and crouch. In the same way -some men who marry high-born or wealthy women, instead of improving -themselves, put indignities upon their wives, in the belief that they -will be more easily ruled when humbled. The proper course is, while -using the rein, to maintain the dignity of the wife, as one would the -full height of the horse. - -[Sidenote: C] 9. When the moon is at a distance from the sun, we see it -bright and luminous. When it comes near him, it fades and is lost to -view. With a properly conducted woman it is the contrary. She should be -most visible when with her husband; in his absence she should keep at -home and out of sight. - -10. Herodotus was wrong in saying that when a woman lays aside her tunic -she lays aside her modesty. On the contrary, a chaste wife puts on -modesty in its place. Between married persons the token of greatest -regard is greatest modesty. - -11. If two notes are taken in accord, the lower of the two is [Sidenote: -D] the dominant. So, though every action in a well-conducted house is -performed by both parties in tune, it will reveal the husband’s -leadership and priority of choice. - -12. The Sun vanquished the North Wind. When the wind endeavoured to take -off the man’s cloak by violence and blowing a gale, he only tightened -his mantle the more and held it the closer. But when, after the wind, -the sun became hot, the man began to grow warm. When at last he -sweltered, he took off not only his cloak but his tunic. The parable -applies to the generality of women. When their husbands take violent -measures to do away with extravagant indulgence, they show [Sidenote: E] -fight and temper; but if you reason with them, they give it up peaceably -and practise moderation. - -13. Cato expelled from the Senate a man who had kissed his own wife in -the presence of his daughter. This, perhaps, was too severe a step. But -if—as is the case—it is unseemly to be fondling and kissing and -embracing each other in company, it is surely more unseemly to be -scolding and quarrelling in company, and, while treating your -love-passages as a sacred secret between you and your wife, to make an -open display of fault-finding [Sidenote: F] and reproach. - -14. A mirror,[37] though decorated with gold and precious stones, is of -no use unless it shows you your form true to life. Similarly there is no -advantage in a rich wife, if her conduct does not represent that of her -husband and harmonize with it in character. If the reflection which it -offers is glum when you are joyful, but wears a merry grin when you are -gloomy and distressed, the mirror is faulty and bad. A wife is a poor -thing and out of place if she is in the dumps when her husband is -disposed for frolic or love-making, but is all fun and laughter when he -is serious. In the former case she is disagreeable; in [Sidenote: 140] -the latter, she slights you. Geometers tell us that lines and surfaces -make no movement by themselves, but only in conjunction with the bodies -to which they belong. In the same way a woman should be free from -peculiar states of mind of her own, but should act as the husband’s -partner in his earnestness and his jest, in his preoccupation and his -laughter. - -15. A man who dislikes to see his wife eating with him, teaches her to -satisfy her appetite when she gets by herself. Similarly one who is -never a merry companion to her, nor shares in her sport and laughter, -teaches her to look for private pleasures apart from him. - -[Sidenote: B] 16. When the Persian kings are dining or feasting, their -legitimate wives sit at their side. But when they wish to amuse -themselves or get tipsy, they send those wives away and summon their -minstrel-women and concubines. The practice is a right one, at least to -the extent that they do not permit their wives to take part in wanton -and licentious scenes. So, if a private man, who lacks self-control or -good-breeding in his pleasures, is guilty of a lapse with a common woman -or a menial, the wife should not be indignant and resentful, but should -reflect that, out of respect for her, he finds some other woman to share -his riot and lasciviousness. - -[Sidenote: C] 17. When kings are fond of music, they make many -musicians; when of learning, learned men; when of athletics, gymnasts. -So when the love of a husband is for the person, his wife will be all -for dress; when for pleasure, she becomes lewd and wanton; when for -goodness and virtue, she shows herself discreet and chaste. - -18. When a Lacedaemonian girl was once asked whether she had already -embraced a man, she answered, ‘No, indeed; but _he_ has embraced _me_.’ -Such, I believe, is the right attitude for a lady—not to shun or dislike -caresses, when the husband begins them, nor yet to begin them of her own -accord. The one course is bold and immodest, the other disdainful and -[Sidenote: D] unaffectionate. - -19. The woman ought not to possess private friends, but to share those -of the man. But first and greatest are the gods, and it is therefore -right for the wife to reverence or acknowledge only those gods who are -recognized by the husband. Her street-door should be kept shut to -out-of-the-way forms of worship and alien superstitions. No deity finds -gratification in ceremonies which a woman performs in secret and by -stealth. - -20. Plato holds that a community is in a state of blissful well-being -when the expressions ‘_mine_’ and ‘_not mine_’ are scarcely ever heard, -inasmuch as the citizens enjoy, as far as [Sidenote: E] possible, the -common use of everything worth considering. Much more ought such -language to be abolished from the married state. In the same way, -however, in which medical men tell us that a blow on the left side -produces an answering sensation in the right, it is proper for a wife to -sympathize with her husband’s concerns and the husband with the wife’s. -In this way, just as ropes, when interwoven, lend each other strength, -so, through each party reciprocating the other’s goodwill, the -partnership will be maintained by both combined. Nature blends us -through the body in such a way as to take [Sidenote: F] a portion from -each, and by commingling produce an offspring common to both, so that -neither can define or distinguish an ‘own’ part from ‘another’s’. The -same sort of partnership between married persons should assuredly exist -in respect of money also. They should pour it all into a single fund, -and blend it in such a way that they never think of one part as ‘own’ -and one as ‘another’s’, but treat it all as ‘own’ and none of it as -‘another’s’. And as we call a mixture ‘wine’, though it may contain a -greater proportion of water, so the property of the house should be said -to belong to the man, even though the wife may contribute the larger -share. - -21. Helen loved wealth, and Paris loved pleasure: Odysseus was wise, and -Penelope discreet. Hence the union of the latter [Sidenote: 141] pair -was happy and enviable, while that of the former brought upon Greeks and -Asiatics an ‘Iliad of Woes’. - -22. When the Roman was admonished by his friends for having divorced a -wife who was chaste, rich, and beautiful, he stretched out his shoe and -remarked: ‘Yes, and this looks fine and new, but no one knows where it -chafes me.’ The wife must not rely upon her dowry, her birth, or her -beauty. The matters in which she touches her husband most closely are -conversation, character, and companionship. Instead of making these -harsh and vexatious day after day, she must render them [Sidenote: B] -compatible, soothing, and grateful. Physicians are more afraid of fevers -which spring from vague causes gradually accumulating, than of those for -which there is a great and manifest reason. So it is these little, -continual, daily frictions between man and wife, which the world knows -nothing of, that do most to create the rifts which ruin married life. - -23. King Philip was once enamoured of a Thessalian woman who was charged -with bewitching him. Olympias thereupon became eager to get this person -into her power. When, upon presenting herself, she not only turned out -to be a handsome woman, but spoke with considerable nobility and good -sense, [Sidenote: C] Olympias said: ‘Those calumnies are all nonsense! -Your witchcraft lies in yourself.’ How irresistible a thing is a married -and lawful wife, if, by treating everything—dowry, birth, philtres, the -very girdle[38] of Aphrodite—as lying in herself, she conquers affection -by means of character and virtue! - -24. On another occasion, when a youthful courtier had married a handsome -woman of bad repute, Olympias remarked, ‘The fellow has no judgement; -otherwise he would not have married with his eyes.’ Marriage should not -be made with the eyes; neither should it with the fingers, as it is in -the case of some, who reckon up the amount of the dower, instead of -calculating the companionable quality, of the wife they are [Sidenote: -D] marrying. - -25. To young men who are fond of looking at themselves in the mirror -Socrates recommended that the ugly should correct their defects by -virtue, while the handsome should avoid spoiling their beauty by vice. -It is a good thing for the married woman also, while she is holding the -mirror, to talk to herself, and, if she is plain, to ask, ‘And what if I -show myself indiscreet?’ if beautiful, ‘And what if I show myself -discreet as well?’ The plain woman may pride herself on being loved for -her character, and the handsome woman on being loved more for her -character than her beauty. - -26. When the Sicilian despot sent Lysander’s daughters a set of costly -mantles and chains, he refused to accept them. ‘These bits of -ornaments,’ said he, ‘will rather take from my [Sidenote: E] daughters’ -beauty than set it off.’ Lysander, however, was anticipated by Sophocles -in the lines: - - _Nay, ’twould not seem, poor fool, to beautify, - But to unbeautify, and prove thee wanton._ - -As Crates used to say, ‘Adornment is that which adorns,’ and that which -adorns is that which adds to a woman’s seemliness. This is not done by -gold or jewels or scarlet, but by whatever invests her with the badges -of dignity, decorum, and modesty. - -27. In sacrificing to Hera as goddess of marriage, the gall is not -burned with the other portions of the sacrifice, but is [Sidenote: F] -taken out and thrown down at the side of the altar—an indirect -injunction of the legislator that gall and anger should have no place in -the married state. The austerity of the lady of the house, like the -dryness of wine, should be wholesome and palatable, not bitter like -aloes or unpleasant like a drug. - -28. Xenocrates being somewhat harsh in character, though otherwise a -high type of man, Plato recommended him to _sacrifice to the Graces_. -Now I take it that a woman of strict morals stands in special need of -the graces in dealing with her [Sidenote: 142] husband, so that—as -Metrodorus used to say—she may live with him on pleasant terms and not -‘in a temper because she is chaste’. A woman should no more forget to be -amiable because she is faithful, than to be neat because she is thrifty. -Decorum in a woman is rendered as disagreeable by harshness as frugality -is by sluttishness. - -29. A wife who is afraid to laugh and joke with her husband for fear of -seeming bold and wanton, is as bad as the woman who, from fear of being -thought to use ointments on her head, does not even oil it,[39] and, to -avoid seeming to rouge her face, does not even wash it. We find that -when poets and orators avoid appealing to the vulgar by bad taste and -affectation in [Sidenote: B] respect of their diction, they practise -every art to attract and stir the hearer with their matter, their -treatment, and their moral quality. So the lady of the house, because -she avoids and deprecates—as she is quite right to do—extravagant or -meretricious demonstration, ought all the more to bring the graces of -character and conduct into play in dealing with her husband, thus -habituating him to proper ways, but in a pleasurable manner. If, -however, a wife shows herself strait-laced and rigidly austere, her -husband must put the best face upon it. When Antipater required Phocion -to perform an improper and [Sidenote: C] degrading action, he answered, -‘I cannot serve you both as your friend and your toady.’ In the same -way, when a woman is staid and strait-laced, our reflection should be, -‘The same woman cannot behave to me as both a wife and a mistress.’ - -30. By a national custom the Egyptian women wore no shoes, so that they -might keep at home all day. In the case of most women, to deprive them -of gold-worked shoes, bangles, anklets, purple, and pearls, is to make -them stay indoors. - -31. Theano, in putting on her mantle, once showed a glimpse of her arm. -Upon some one saying, ‘A beautiful forearm!’ she retorted, ‘But not for -the public!’ A well-conducted woman will keep, not only her forearm, but -her speech, from [Sidenote: D] publicity. She will be as shy and -cautious about her utterances to the outside world as if they were an -exposure of her person, inasmuch as, when she talks, they are a -revelation of feelings, character, and disposition. - -32. Pheidias, in representing the Elean Aphrodite with her foot upon a -tortoise, meant women to take it as a symbol of home-keeping and -silence. A woman should talk either to, or through the medium of, her -husband; nor should she resent it if, like a player on the clarinet, she -finds a more impressive utterance through another tongue than through -her own. - -33. When rich or royal persons pay respect to a philosopher, they do -honour both to themselves and to him. But when a philosopher pays court -to rich people, he is not conferring [Sidenote: E] distinction upon -them, but lowering his own. The same is the case with women. By -submission to their husbands they win regard; by seeking to govern them -they demean themselves worse than the men so governed. Meanwhile it is -only right that the husband, in controlling the wife, should not be like -an owner dealing with a chattel, but like the mind dealing with the -body—sympathetic with the sympathy of organic union. It is possible to -care for the body without being a slave to its pleasures and desires, -and it is possible to rule a wife and yet do things to please and -gratify her. - -34. Compound objects are classified by philosophers as follows. In some -the parts are distinct, as in a fleet or army. [Sidenote: F] In some -they are conjoined, as in a house or ship. In others they form an -organic unity, as in all living creatures. We may say much the same of -marriage. The marriage of love is the ‘organic unity’; the marriage for -a dowry or for children is that of persons ‘conjoined’; marriage without -sharing the same couch is that of persons ‘distinct’, who may be said to -[Sidenote: 143] dwell together, but not to live together. With persons -marrying, there should be a mutual blending of bodies, means, friends, -and relations, in the same way as, according to the scientists, when -liquids are mixed, the mixture runs through the whole. When the Roman -legislator forbade married couples to exchange presents, he did not mean -that they should not impart to each other, but that they should look -upon everything as joint property. - -35. At Leptis in Africa it is a traditional custom for the bride, on the -day after marriage, to send to the bridegroom’s mother to borrow a pot. -The latter refuses, saying she has none. The intention is that the bride -may realize from the first the ‘step-mother’ attitude of her -mother-in-law, so that, if anything more disagreeable happens -afterwards, she may not be vexed or irritated. The wife should -understand this fact and apply [Sidenote: B] treatment to its cause, -which is, that the mother is jealous of her son’s affections. There is -but one treatment for this state of mind. While winning the special -affection of her husband for herself, she must avoid detaching or -lessening his affection for his mother. - -36. Mothers appear to be more fond of their sons, because those sons are -able to help them, and fathers of their daughters, because daughters -need their help. Maybe also it is out of compliment to each other that -both parties desire to be seen making much of that which is more akin to -the other. This, perhaps, is a trait of no importance, but there is -another which is charming. I mean, when the wife’s respect is seen to -incline rather to the husband’s parents than to her own, and when, -[Sidenote: C] in case of anything troubling her, she refers it to them -and conceals it from her own people. If you are thought to trust, you -are trusted; if you are thought to love, you are loved. - -37. The Greeks who accompanied Cyrus received the following order from -their commanders: ‘If the enemy come shouting to the attack, await them -in silence; if they come in silence, charge to meet them with a shout.’ -When a husband has his fits of anger, if he raises his voice, a sensible -wife keeps quiet; if he is silent, she soothes him by talking to him in -a coaxing way. - -38. Euripides is right in blaming those who have the lyre [Sidenote: D] -played to them at their wine. Music is more properly called in to cure -anger and grief than to encourage further abandonment on the part of -those who are taking their pleasure. So I would have you believe that it -is a wrong principle to share the same bed for the sake of pleasure, and -yet, when you are angry or fall out, to sleep apart. That is exactly the -time to call in the Goddess of Love, who is the best physician for such -cases. This is practically the teaching of the poet, when he makes Hera -say: - - _And their tangled strife will I loosen, - When to their couch I bring them, to meet in love and in union._ - -[Sidenote: E] 39. At all times and everywhere a wife should avoid -offending the husband, and a husband the wife; but especially should -they beware of doing so when together at night. In the story, the wife, -in the vexation of her throes, used to say to those who were putting her -to bed: ‘How can this couch cure a trouble which befell me upon it?’ So -quarrels, recriminations, and tempers which are begotten in the chamber -are not easily got over in another place or at another time. - -40. There appears to be a truth in Hermione’s plea: [Sidenote: F] - - ‘_Tis wicked women’s visits have undone me._ - -This occurs in more than one way, but especially when connubial quarrels -and jealousies offer to such women not only an open door, but an open -ear. At such a time, therefore, should a sensible woman shut her ears, -keep out of the way of slanderous whispers which add fuel to the fire, -and be ready to apply the well-known saying of Philip. We are told that -when his friends were trying to exasperate that monarch against the -Greeks—on the ground that, though he treated them well, they abused -him—he remarked, ‘Well, and what, pray, if we treat them badly?’ So, -when the scandalizers say, ‘Your husband grieves you, in spite of all -your affection and chastity,’ you [Sidenote: 144] should retort, ‘And -what, pray, if I begin to hate and wrong him?’ - -41. A man caught sight of a slave who had run away some time before, and -gave chase. When the slave was too quick, and took refuge in a mill, he -observed, ‘And in what better place could I have wished to find you than -where you are?‘[40] So let a woman who is declaring for a divorce -through jealousy say to herself, ‘And where would my rival be more glad -to see me? And what would she be more pleased to see me doing, than -harbouring a grievance, at feud with my husband, and actually abandoning -the house and the marriage-chamber?’ - -[Sidenote: B] 42. The Athenians observe three sacred ploughings; the -first at Sciron, in memory of the oldest sowing of crops; the second in -the Rharian district; and the third—known as the Buzygian festival—close -to the Acropolis. More sacred than all of these is the connubial -ploughing and sowing for the procreation of children. It is a happy -expression of Sophocles, when he calls Aphrodite ‘_fair-fruited -Cytherea_‘. Man and wife should therefore be especially scrupulous in -this connexion, keeping pure from unholy and unlawful intercourse with -others, and forbearing to sow where they desire no crop to grow, or, if -it does, are ashamed of it and seek to conceal it. - -43. When Gorgias the rhetorician once read to the Greeks at Olympia a -discourse upon peace and harmony, Melanthius exclaimed, ‘Here is a man -giving us advice about peace and [Sidenote: C] harmony, when in private -life he has failed to harmonize three people—himself, his wife, and his -maidservant.’ For Gorgias, it appears, was enamoured, and his wife -jealous, of the domestic. A man’s house ought to be in tune before he -offers to set in tune a state, a public meeting, or friends. The public -is more likely to hear of offences against a wife than of offences -committed by her. - -44. They say that the cat is driven frantic by the smell of unguents. If -it had been the case that women were provoked [Sidenote: D] out of their -senses by the same means, it would have been a monstrous thing for men -not to abstain from unguents, and to let their wives suffer so cruelly -for the sake of a trifling gratification of their own. Now since, though -the husband’s use of unguents does not so afflict them, his dealings -with other women do, it is unjust to cause such vexation and distress to -a wife for the sake of a little pleasure. On the contrary, husbands -should come to their wives pure and untainted by other intercourse, just -as they would approach bees, who are said to show disgust and hostility -towards any one who has been so engaged. - -45. People never dress in bright clothes when approaching [Sidenote: E] -an elephant, nor in red when approaching a bull, since the animals in -question are particularly infuriated by those colours. Of tigers it is -said that, if you beat drums all round them, they go mad and tear -themselves to pieces. Surely, then, inasmuch as some men cannot bear to -see scarlet or purple clothes, and some are irritated at cymbals and -tambourines, it is not asking too much for women to leave such things -alone, and not harass or exasperate their husbands, but practise -quietude and consideration in their society. - -[Sidenote: F] 46. When Philip was once seizing upon a woman against her -will, she said, ‘Let me go. All women are the same when you take away -the light.’ While this applies well enough to adulterers and -sensualists, it is particularly when the light is taken away that a wife -should _not_ be the same as any ordinary female. Her person may not be -visible, but her modesty, chastity, decorum, and natural affection -should make themselves palpable. - -47. Plato used to recommend that respect should rather be paid by -elderly men to the young, so that the latter might behave modestly to -them in return. For, said he, ‘where old men are shameless,’ the young -acquire no modesty or scruple. A husband should bear this in mind, and -show more respect [Sidenote: 145] to his wife than to any one else, -since the nuptial chamber will prove to be her school of propriety or -its opposite. The husband who indulges himself in certain pleasures, -while warning her against the same, is as bad as the man who bids his -wife fight on against an enemy to whom he has himself surrendered. - -48. As to love of display, do you, Eurydice, read and endeavour to -remember what Timoxena wrote to Aristylla. And you, Pollianus, must not -expect your wife to refrain from showy extravagance, if she sees that -you do not despise it in other [Sidenote: B] matters, but that you take -a pleasure in cups with gilding, rooms with painted walls, mules with -decorated harness, and horses with neck-trappings. You cannot banish -extravagance from the women’s quarters when it has the free run of the -men’s. You are at the right age to cultivate philosophy. Adorn your -character, therefore, by listening to careful reasoning and -demonstration in improving company and conversation. Be like the bees. -Gather valuable matter from every source. Carry it home in yourself, and -share it with your wife by discussing it and making all the best -principles agreeable and familiar to her. While [Sidenote: C] - - _Thou unto her art father, and honoured mother, and brother_, - -it is no less a matter of pride to hear a wife say, ‘Husband, thou unto -me art guide, philosopher, and teacher of the noblest and divinest -lessons.’ It is studies of this kind that tend to keep a woman from -foolish practices. She will be ashamed to be dancing, when she is -learning geometry. She will lend no ear to the incantations of sorcery, -when she is listening to those of Plato and Xenophon. When any one -promises to fetch down the moon,[41] she will laugh at the ignorance and -silliness of women who believe such things; for she will possess a -knowledge of astronomy, and will have heard how Aglaonice, the daughter -of Hegetor of Thessaly, thoroughly understood [Sidenote: D] eclipses of -the full moon, how she knew beforehand the date at which it must be -caught in the shadow, and how she thereby cheated the women into -believing that she was fetching it down herself. - -We are told that no woman produces a child without the participation of -the man, though there are shapeless and fleshlike growths—called -‘millstones’—which form themselves spontaneously from corrupted matter. -We must beware of this occurring in women’s minds. If they are not -impregnated with sound doctrines by sharing in the culture of their -husbands, [Sidenote: E] they will of their own accord conceive many an -ill-advised intention or irrational state of feeling. - -As for you, Eurydice, above all things do your best to keep touch with -the sayings of wise and good men, and to have continually in your mouth -those utterances which you learned by heart in my school when a girl. By -so doing, you will not only be a joy to your husband, but the admiration -of other women, when they see how, at no expense, you can adorn yourself -with so much distinction and dignity. - -This rich woman’s pearls, that foreign lady’s silks, are not to be worn -without paying a large price for them. But the ornaments [Sidenote: F] -of Theano, of Cleobuline, of Gorgo the wife of Leonidas, of Timoclea the -sister of Theagenes, of the Claudia of ancient history, and of Cornelia -the daughter of Scipio, you may wear for nothing; and with this -adornment your life may be as happy as it is distinguished. - -[Sidenote: 146] Sappho thought so much of her skill as a lyrist that she -wrote—addressing a wealthy woman— - - _When thou art dead, thou shalt lie with none to remember thy name: - For no portion hast thou in the roses Pierian...._ - -You will assuredly have more occasion to think highly and proudly of -yourself, if you have a portion, not only in the roses, but also in the -fruits, which the Muses bring as free gifts to those who prize culture -and philosophy. - -Footnote 37: - - Made of polished bronze. - -Footnote 38: - - Which contained ‘every charm: love, desire, and sweet converse’ - (Homer, _Il._ xiv. 214). - -Footnote 39: - - The use of oil to soften the hair was practically universal. - -Footnote 40: - - A common punishment for a slave was to put him to hard labour in - turning the mill, in place of a horse or ass. - -Footnote 41: - - A frequent pretence of ancient witches. - - - - - CONCERNING BUSYBODIES - - -If a house is stuffy, dark, chilly, or unhealthy, it is perhaps -[Sidenote: 515 B] best to get out of it. But if long association makes -you fond of the place, you may alter the lights, shift the stairs, open -a door here and close one there, and so make it brighter, fresher, and -more wholesome. Even cities have sometimes been improved [Sidenote: C] -by such rearrangement. For instance, it is said that my own native town, -which used to face the west and receive the full force of the afternoon -sun from Parnassus, was turned by Chairon so as to front the east. -Empedocles, the natural philosopher, once blocked up a mountain gorge, -which sent a destructive and pestilential south wind blowing down upon -the plains. By this means, it was thought, he shut the plague out of the -district. - -Well, since there are certain injurious and unhealthy states of mind -which chill and darken the soul, it would be best to get rid of them—to -make a clean sweep to the foundations, and give ourselves the benefit of -a clear sky, light, and pure air [Sidenote: D] to breathe. If not, we -should reform and readjust them by turning them some other way about. - -We may take the vice of the busybody as an instance in point. It is a -love of prying into other people’s troubles, a disease tainted—we may -believe—with both envy and malice. - - _Why so sharp-eyed, my most malignant Sir, - For others’ faults, yet overlook your own?_ - -Pray turn your pryingness the other way about, and make it face inwards. -If you are so fond of the business of inquiring into defects, you will -find plenty to occupy you at home. - -[Sidenote: *] _Abundant as leaves on the oak or the water that rolls -from Alizon_ will you find the errors in your conduct, the disorders in -your heart and mind, and the lapses in your duty. - -[Sidenote: E] According to Xenophon, a good householder has a special -place for the utensils of sacrifice, and a special place for those of -the table; agricultural implements are stored in one room, weapons of -war in another. In your own case you have one stock of faults arising -from envy, another from jealousy, another from cowardice, another from -meanness. These are the faults for you to inspect and examine. Block up -the windows [Sidenote: F] and alleys of your inquisitiveness on the side -towards your neighbours, and open others which look into your own -house—the male quarters, the female quarters, the living-rooms of the -servants. Our busy curiosity will find occupation of a profitable and -salutary, instead of a useless and malicious, kind, if each one will say -to himself: - - _How have I err’d? What deed have I done? What duty neglected?_ - -As it is, we are all of us like the Lamia in the fable, of whom -[Sidenote: 516] we are told that at home she is asleep and blind, with -her eyes stowed away in a jar, but that when she comes abroad she puts -them in and can see. Outside, and in dealing with others, we furnish our -malice with an eye in the shape of our meddlesomeness, but we are -continually being tripped up by our own misdeeds and vices, of which we -are unaware, because we provide ourselves with no light or vision to -perceive them. It follows that the busybody is a better friend to his -enemies than to himself. While censoriously reproving their shortcomings -and showing them what they ought to avoid or amend, he is so taken up -with faults outside that he overlooks most of those at home. - -[Sidenote: B] Odysseus refused even to talk to his mother, until he had -got his answer from the seer concerning the business which had brought -him to Hades. When he had received the information, he turned to her, -and also began to put questions to the other women, asking who Tyro was, -and the beautiful Chloris, and why Epicaste met her death by - - _Tying a sheer-hung noose from the height of the lofty roof-tree_. - -Not so we. While treating our own concerns with the greatest -indifference, ignorance, and neglect, we begin discussing other people’s -pedigrees—how our neighbour’s grandfather was a Syrian and his -grandmother a Thracian. ‘So-and-So owes more than seven hundred pounds, -and cannot pay the interest.’ We also make it our business to inquire -about such matters as where So-and-So got his wife from, and what -private talk was that between A and B in the corner. Socrates, on the -other [Sidenote: C] hand, went about inquiring, ‘By what arguments did -Pythagoras carry conviction?’ So Aristippus, when he met Ischomachus at -Olympia, proceeded to ask by what kind of conversation Socrates affected -the Athenians as he did. When he had gleaned a few seeds or samples of -his talk, he was so moved that he suffered a physical collapse, and -became quite pale and thin. In the end he set sail for Athens, and -slaked his thirst with draughts from the fountain-head, studying the -man, his discourses and his philosophy, of which the aim was to -recognize one’s own vices and get rid of them. - -But there are some to whom their own life is a most distressing -[Sidenote: D] spectacle, and who therefore cannot bear to look at it nor -to reflect the light of reason upon themselves. Their soul is so fraught -with all manner of vices, that, shuddering with horror at what lies -within, it darts away from home, and goes prowling round other men’s -concerns, where it lets its malice batten and grow fat. - -It often happens that a domestic fowl, though there is plenty of food -lying at its disposal, will slink into a corner and scratch - - _Where so appeareth, mayhap, one barley-grain in a dunghill._ - -It is much the same with the busybody. Ignoring the topics and questions -which are open to all, and which no one prevents him from asking about -or is annoyed with him if he does ask, [Sidenote: E] he goes picking out -of every house the troubles which it is endeavouring to bury out of -sight. But surely it was a neat answer which the Egyptian made to the -man who asked him what he was carrying in that wrapper. ‘That,’ said he, -‘is why it _is_ in a wrapper.’ And why, pray, are you so inquisitive -about a thing which is being concealed? If it had not been something -undesirable, there would have been no concealment. It is not usual to -walk into another man’s house without knocking at the door. Nowadays -there are doorkeepers—formerly knockers were beaten upon the doors in -order to give warning—the intention being that the stranger shall not -surprise the lady of the [Sidenote: F] house or her daughter in the -open, or come upon a slave receiving punishment, or the handmaids -screaming. But these are exactly the things which the busybody steals in -to see. At a staid and quiet household he would have no pleasure in -looking, even if he were invited. His object is to uncover and make -public those things to which keys, bolts, and the street-door owe their -existence. ‘The winds which vex us most,’ says Ariston, ‘are those which -pull up our cloaks.’ But the busybody strips off not only our mantles -and tunics, but our walls; he spreads our doors wide open, and makes his -way like a piercing wind through the ‘_maiden of tender skin_‘, prying -and sneaking into [Sidenote: 517] her bacchic revels, her dances, and -her all-night festivals. - -As Cleon in the comedy had - - _His hands in Askthorpe and his thoughts in Thefton_, - -so the busybody’s thoughts are at one and the same time in the houses of -the rich and the hovels of the poor, in the courts of kings and the -chambers of the newly-wed. He searches into everybody’s -business—business of strangers, and business of potentates. Nor is his -search without danger. If one were to take a taste of aconite because he -was inquisitive as to its properties, he would find that he had killed -the learner before he got his lesson. So those who pry into the troubles -of the [Sidenote: B] great destroy themselves before discovering what -they seek. If any one is not satisfied with the beams which the sun -lavishes so abundantly upon all, but audaciously insists upon gazing -unabashed at the orb itself and probing the light to its heart, the -result is blindness. It was therefore wise of Philippides, the comic -poet, when King Lysimachus once asked him, ‘What can I give you of -mine?’ to reply, ‘Anything, Sire, but your secrets.’ The finest and most -pleasant aspects of royalty are those displayed outwardly—its banquets, -wealth, pomps and shows, graces and favours. But if a king has any -secret, keep away from it and leave it alone. A king does not conceal -his [Sidenote: C] joy when prosperous, nor his laughter when jocose, nor -his intention to do a kindness or confer a boon. When he hides a thing, -when he is glum, unsmiling, unapproachable, it is time for alarm. It -means that he has been storing up anger, and that it is festering; or -that he is sullenly meditating a severe punishment; or that he is -jealous of his wife, or suspicious of his son, or distrustful of a -friend. Run, run from that cloud which is gathering so black! You cannot -possibly miss the thunder and lightning, when the matter which is now a -secret bursts out in storm. - -How, then, are we to escape this vice? By turning our inquisitiveness—as -we have said—the other way round, and, as far as possible, directing our -minds to better and more interesting objects. If you are to pry, pry -into questions [Sidenote: D] connected with sky, earth, air, or sea. You -are by nature fond of looking either at little things or at big things. -If at big things, apply your curiosity to the sun; ask where he sets and -whence he rises. Inquire into the changes of the moon, as if she were a -human being. Ask where she loses so much of her light, and whence she -gets it back; how - - _Once dim, she first comes forth and makes - Her young face beauteous, gathering to the full, - And, when her greatest splendours she hath shown, - Fades out, and passes into naught again._ - -These, too, are secrets—the secrets of Nature; but Nature has [Sidenote: -E] no grievance against those who find them out. Are the big things -beyond you? Then pry into the smaller ones. Ask how it is that some -plants are always flourishing and green, proudly displaying their wealth -at every season, while others are at one moment as good as these, but at -another have squandered their abundance all at once, like some human -spendthrift, and are left bare and beggared. Why, again, do some plants -produce elongated fruits, some angular, some round and globelike? - -But perhaps you will have no curiosity for such concerns, [Sidenote: F] -because there is nothing wrong about them. Well, if inquisitiveness -absolutely must be always browsing and passing its time among things -sordid, like a maggot among dead matter, let us introduce it to history -and story, and supply it with bad things in abundance and without stint. -For there it will find - - _Fallings of men and spurnings-off of life_, - -seductions of women, assaults by slaves, slanderings of friends, -concoctions of poisons, envies, jealousies, shipwrecks of homes, -overthrows of rulers. Take your fill, enjoy yourself, and cause no -annoyance or pain to any of those with whom you come in contact. - -Apparently, however, inquisitiveness finds no pleasure in scandals which -are stale; it wants them hot and fresh. And [Sidenote: 518] while it -enjoys the spectacle of a novel tragedy, it takes no sort of interest in -the comedy or more cheerful side of life. Consequently the busybody -lends but a careless and indifferent ear to the account of a wedding, a -sacrifice, or a complimentary ‘farewell’. He says he has already heard -most of the details, and urges the narrator to cut them short or omit -them. But if any one will sit by him and tell him the news about the -corruption of a girl or the unfaithfulness of a wife or an impending -action at law or a quarrel between brothers, there is no sleepiness or -hurry about him, but - - _More words still doth he ask, and proffers his ears to receive - them._ - -As applied to the busybody, the words - - _How much more apt to reach the ear of man - An ill thing than a happy!_ - -are a true saying. As a cupping-glass sucks from the flesh what -[Sidenote: B] is worst in it, so the inquisitive ear draws to itself the -most undesirable topics. To vary the figure: cities have certain -‘Accursed’ or ‘Dismal’ gates, through which they take out criminals on -their way to death and throw the refuse and offscourings of -purification, while nothing sacred or undefiled goes in or out through -them. So with the ears of the busybody. They give passage to nothing -fine or useful, but serve only as the pathway of gruesome -communications, with their load of foul and polluted gossip. - - _No chance brings other minstrel to my roof, - But always Lamentation._ - -[Sidenote: C] That is the one Muse and Siren of the busybody, the most -pleasant of all music to his ear. For his vice is a love of finding out -whatever is secret and concealed, and no one conceals a good thing when -he has one; on the contrary, he will pretend to one which has no -existence. Since therefore it is troubles that the busybody is eager to -discover, the disease from which he suffers is malignant gloating—own -brother to envy and spite. For envy is pain at another’s good; malignity -is pleasure at another’s harm; and the parent of both is ill-nature—the -[Sidenote: D] feeling of a savage or a brute beast. - -So painful do we all find it to have our troubles revealed, that there -are many who would rather die than tell a physician of a secret disease. -Imagine Herophilus or Erasistratus, or Asclepius himself—when he was a -mortal man—calling from house to house with his drugs and his -instruments, and asking whether a man had a fistula or a woman a cancer -in the womb! Inquisitiveness in their profession may, it is true, save a -life. None the less, I presume, every one would have scouted such a -person, [Sidenote: E] for coming to investigate other people’s ailments -without waiting till he was required and sent for. Yet our busybody -searches out precisely these, or even worse, ailments; and, since he -does so not by way of curing them, but merely of disclosing them, he -deserves the hatred he gets. - -We are annoyed and indignant with the collector of customs,[42] not when -he picks out and levies on those articles which we import openly, but -when, in the search for hidden goods, he ransacks among baggage and -merchandise which are not in [Sidenote: F] question. Yet the law permits -him to do so, and he is the loser if he does not. On the other hand, the -busybody lets his own concerns go to ruin, while he is occupying himself -with those of other people. He rarely takes a walk to the farm; it is -too lonely, and he cannot bear the quiet and silence. And if, after a -time, he does chance along, he has a keener eye for his neighbour’s -vines than for his own. He proceeds to ask how many of his neighbour’s -cattle have died, or how much of his wine turned sour. After a good meal -of such news he is quickly off and away. - -Your true and genuine type of farmer has no desire to hear even the news -which finds its own way from the city. Says he: - - _Then, while he digs, he’ll tell - The terms o’the treaty. He must now, confound him, - Go round and poke his nose in things like that!_ - -[Sidenote: 519] But to your busybody country life is a stale and -uninteresting thing with nothing to fuss about. He therefore flees from -it, and pushes into the Exchange, the Market, or the Harbour. ‘Is there -any news?’ ‘Why, weren’t you at market early this morning? Do you -imagine there has been a revolution in three hours?’ If, however, any -one has a piece of news to tell, down he gets from his horse, grasps the -man’s hand, kisses him, and stands there listening. But if some one -meets him and says there is nothing fresh, he exclaims, as if he were -annoyed: ‘What? Haven’t you been at market? Haven’t you been near the -Board-Room? And haven’t you met the new arrivals from [Sidenote: B] -Italy?’ - -The Locrian magistrates therefore did right in fining any one who, after -being out of town, came up and asked, ‘Is there any news?’ As the -butchers pray for a good supply of animals, and fishermen for a good -supply of fish, so busybodies pray for a good supply of calamities, for -plenty of troubles, for novelties and changes. They must always have -their fish to catch or carcass to cut up. - -Another good rule was that of the legislator of Thurii, who forbade the -lampooning of citizens on the stage, with the exception of adulterers -and busybodies. The one class bears a resemblance to the other, adultery -being a sort of inquisitiveness into [Sidenote: C] another’s pleasure, -and a prying search into matters protected from the general eye, while -inquisitiveness is the illicit denuding and corrupting of a secret. -While a natural consequence of much learning is having much to say, and -therefore Pythagoras enjoined upon the young a five years’ silence, -which he called ‘Truce to Speech’, the necessary concomitant of -curiosity is speaking evil. What the curious delight to hear, they -delight to talk about; what they take pains to gather from others, they -joy in giving out to new hearers. It follows that, besides its -[Sidenote: D] other drawbacks, their disease actually stands in the way -of its own desires. For every one is on his guard to hide things from -them, and is reluctant to do anything when the busybody is looking, or -to say anything when he is listening. People put off a consultation and -postpone the consideration of business until such persons are out of the -way. If, when a secret matter is towards, or an important action is in -the doing, a busybody appears upon the scene, they take it away and hide -it, as they [Sidenote: E] would a piece of victuals when the cat comes -past. Often, therefore, he is the only person not permitted to hear or -see what others may see and hear. - -For the same reason the busybody can find no one to trust him. We would -rather trust our letters, papers, or seals to a slave or a stranger than -to an inquisitive relation or friend. Bellerophon, though the writing -which he carried was about himself, would not broach it, but showed the -same continence in keeping his hands off the king’s letter as in keeping -them off his wife. - -Yes, inquisitiveness is as incontinent as adultery, and not only -incontinent, but terribly silly and foolish. To pass by so many women -who are public property, and to struggle to get at one [Sidenote: F] who -is kept under lock and key, who is expensive, and perhaps ugly to boot, -is the very height of insanity. The busybody is just as bad. He passes -by much that is admirable to see and hear, many an excellent discourse -or discussion, to dig into another man’s poor little letter or clap his -ear to his neighbour’s wall, listening to slaves and womenfolk -whispering together, and incurring danger often, and discredit always. - -[Sidenote: 520] Well, if he wishes to get rid of his vice, the busybody -will find nothing so helpful as to think over the discoveries he has -hitherto made. Simonides used to say that, in opening his boxes after a -lapse of time, he found the fee-box always full and the thanks-box -always empty. So, if one were to open the store-room of inquisitiveness -after an interval, and to contemplate all the useless, futile, and -uninviting things with which it is filled, he would probably become sick -of the business, so nauseating and senseless would it appear. - -Suppose a person to run over the works of our old writers and pick out -their faultiest passages, compiling and keeping a book full of such -things as ‘headless’ lines of Homer, solecisms [Sidenote: B] in the -tragedians, the indecent and licentious language to women by which -Archilochus makes a sorry show of himself. Does he not deserve the -execration in the tragedy: - - _Perish, thou picker-up of miseries!_ - -Execration apart, his treasury, filled with other men’s faults, -possesses neither beauty nor use. It is like the town which Philip -founded with the rudest riff-raff, and which he called Knaveborough. - -With the busybody, however, it is not from lines of poetry, but from -lives, that he goes gleaning and gathering blunders and slips and -solecisms, till the memory which he carries about is the dullest and -dreariest record-box, crammed with ugly things. [Sidenote: C] - -At Rome there are those who set no store by the paintings, the statues, -or—failing these—the handsome children or women on sale, but who haunt -the monster-market, examining specimens with no calves to their legs, or -with weasel-elbows, three eyes, or ostrich-heads, and looking out for -the appearance of any - - _Commingled shape and misformed prodigy._ - -Yet if you keep on showing them such sights, they will soon become -surfeited and sick of it all. In the same way those who make it their -business to pry into other people’s failures in their affairs, blots on -their pedigree, disturbances and delinquencies in their homes, will do -well to remind themselves how thankless [Sidenote: D] and unprofitable -their previous discoveries have proved. - -The most effective way, however, of preventing this weakness is to form -a habit—to begin at an early stage and train ourselves systematically to -acquire the necessary self-control. It is by habit that the vice -increases, the advance of the disease being gradual. How this is, we -shall see, in discussing the proper method of practice. - -Let us make a beginning with comparatively trifling and insignificant -matters. - -On the roads it can be no difficult matter to abstain from reading -[Sidenote: E] the inscriptions on the tombs. Nor in the promenades can -there be any hardship in refusing to let the eye linger upon the -writings on the walls. You have only to tell yourself that they contain -nothing useful or entertaining. There is A expressing his ‘kind -sentiments’ towards B; So-and-So described as ‘the best of friends’; and -much mere twaddle of the same kind. No doubt it seems as if the reading -of them does you no harm; but harm you it does, without your knowing it, -by inducing a habit of inquiring into things which do not concern you. -Hunters do not permit young hounds to turn aside and [Sidenote: F] -follow up every scent, but pull them sharply back with the leash, so as -to keep their power of smell in perfectly clean condition for their -proper work, and make it stick more keenly to the tracks: - - _With nostril a-search for the trail that the beast gives forth from - its body_. - -The same watchfulness must be shown in suppressing, or in diverting to -useful ends, the tendency of an inquisitive person to run off the track -and wander after everything that he can see or hear. An eagle or a lion -gathers its talons in when it [Sidenote: 521] walks, so as not to wear -the sharp edge from their tips. Similarly let us treat the inquiring -spirit as the keen edge to our love of learning, and refrain from -wasting or blunting it upon objects of no value. - -In the next place let us train ourselves, when passing another’s door, -to refrain from looking in, or from letting our inquisitive gaze clutch -at what is passing inside. Xenocrates said—and we shall do well to keep -the remark in mind—that whether we set foot or set eyes in another man’s -house makes no difference. Not only is such prying unfair and improper; -we get no pleasure from the spectacle. - - _Unsightly, stranger, are the sights within_, - -is a saying which is generally true of what we see inside—a litter of -pots and pans, or servant-girls sitting about, but nothing of [Sidenote: -B] any importance or interest. This furtive throwing of sidelong -glances, which at the same time gives a kind of squint to the mind, is -ugly, and the habit is demoralizing. When the Olympian victor Dioxippus -was making a triumphal entry in a chariot, and could not drag his eyes -from a beautiful woman among the spectators, but kept turning half round -and throwing side glances in her direction, Diogenes—who saw it -all—remarked, ‘See how a bit of a girl gets the neck-grip on our great -athlete!’ Inquisitive people, however, are to be seen gripped by the -neck and twisted about by any kind of sight, when they once develop a -habit of squandering their glances in all directions. - -This is assuredly no right use of the faculty of vision. It should -[Sidenote: C] not go gadding about like some ill-trained maidservant; -but when the mind sends it upon an errand, it should make haste to reach -its destination, deliver its message, and then come quietly home again -to wait upon the commands of the reason. Instead of this, the case is as -in Sophocles: - - _Thereon the Aenean driver’s hard-mouthed colts - Break from control._ - -When the faculty of vision has not been tutored and trained in the -proper manner as above described, it runs away, drags [Sidenote: D] the -mind with it, and often brings it into disastrous collisions. - -There is a story that Democritus deliberately destroyed his sight by -fixing his eyes upon a red-hot mirror and allowing its heat to be -focussed upon them. His object, it is said, was to block up the windows -toward the street, and thus prevent the disturbance of his intellect by -repeated calls from outside, enabling it to stay at home and devote -itself to pure thinking. Though the story is a fiction, nothing is more -true than that those who make most use of their mind make few calls upon -the senses. Note how our halls of learning are built far out from the -towns, and how night has been styled the ‘_well-minded_‘, from a belief -[Sidenote: E] that quiet and the absence of distraction are a powerful -aid to intellectual discovery and research. - -Suppose, again, that people are quarrelling and abusing each other in -the market-place. It requires no great effort of self-denial to keep at -a distance. When a crowd is running towards a certain spot, it is easy -for you to remain seated, or else, if you lack the necessary strength of -mind, to get up and go away. There is no advantage to be got from mixing -yourself with busybodies, whereas you will derive great benefit from -putting a forcible check upon your curiosity and training it to obey the -commands of the reason. - -[Sidenote: F] We may now go a step further, and tax ourselves more -severely. It is good practice, when a successful entertainment is going -on in a public hall, to pass it by; when our friends invite us to a -performance by a dancer or comedian, to decline; when there is a roar in -the race-ground or the circus, to take no notice. Socrates used to urge -the avoidance of all foods and drinks which tempt one to eat when he is -not hungry or to drink when he is not thirsty. In the same way we shall -do well to shun carefully all appeals to eye or ear, when, though they -are no business of ours, their attractions prove too much for us. - -Cyrus refused to see Panthea, and when Araspes talked of her [Sidenote: -522] remarkable beauty, his answer was: ‘All the more reason for keeping -away from her. If I took your advice and went to see her, she might -perhaps tempt me to be visiting her again when I could not spare the -time, and to be sitting and looking at her to the neglect of much -important business.’ In the same way Alexander refused to set eyes on -Darius’ wife, who was said to be strikingly handsome. Though he visited -the mother—an elderly woman—he would not bring himself to see her young -and beautiful daughter. But what we do is to peep into women’s litters -and hang about their windows, finding nothing improper in encouraging -our curiosity and allowing it such dangerous [Sidenote: B] and unchecked -play. - -Note how you may train yourself for other virtues. To learn justice you -should sometimes forgo an honest gain, and so accustom yourself to keep -aloof from dishonest ones. Similarly, to learn continence, you should -sometimes hold aloof from your own wife, and so secure yourself against -temptation from another’s. Apply this habit to inquisitiveness. -Endeavour occasionally to miss hearing or seeing things which concern -yourself. When something happens at home, and a person wishes to tell -you of it, put the matter off; and when things have been said which -appear to affect yourself, refuse to hear them. Remember how Oedipus was -brought into the direst disasters by over-curiosity. Finding he was no -Corinthian, but an alien, he set to work [Sidenote: C] to discover who -he was, and so he met with Laius. He killed him, married his own mother, -with the throne for dowry, and then, while apparently blessed by -fortune, began his search once more. The endeavours of his wife to -prevent him only made him question still more closely, and in the most -peremptory way, the old man who was in the secret. And at last, when -circumstances are already bringing him to suspect, and the old man -cries: - - _Alas! I stand on the dread brink of speech!_ - -he is nevertheless in such a blaze or spasm of passion that he replies: - - _And I of hearing; and yet hear I must._ - -[Sidenote: D] So bitter-sweet, so uncontrollable, is the excitement of -curiosity—like the tickling of a wound, at which one tears till he makes -it bleed. Meanwhile if we are free from that malady, and mild by nature, -we shall ignore a disagreeable thing and say: - - _Sovran Oblivion, how wise art thou!_ - -We must therefore train ourselves to this end. If a letter is brought to -us, we must not show all that hurry and eagerness to open it which most -people display, when they bite the fastenings through with their teeth, -if their hands are too slow. When a messenger arrives from somewhere or -other, we must not run to meet him, nor get up from our seats. If a -friend [Sidenote: E] says, ‘I have something new to tell you,’ let us -reply: ‘Better, if you have something useful or profitable.’ When I was -once lecturing at Rome, the famous Rusticus—who was afterwards put to -death by Domitian out of jealousy at his reputation—was among my -hearers. A soldier came through the audience and handed him a note from -the emperor. There was a hush, and I made a pause, to allow of his -reading the letter. This, however, he refused to do, nor would he open -it, until I had finished my discourse and the audience broke up. The -incident caused universal admiration at his dignified behaviour. - -But when one feeds his inquisitiveness upon permissible material until -he makes it robust and headstrong, he no longer [Sidenote: F] finds it -easy to master, when force of habit urges it towards forbidden ground. -Such persons will stealthily open their friends’ missives, will push -their way into a confidential meeting, will get a view of rites which it -is an impiety to see, will tread in hallowed places, and will pry into -the doings and sayings of a king. - -Now with a despot—who is compelled to know everything—there is nothing -that makes him so detested as the crew known as his ‘ears’ and -‘jackals’. ‘Listeners’ were first instituted by Darius the Younger, who -had no confidence in himself and looked upon every one with fear and -suspicion. ‘Jackals’ were [Sidenote: 523] the creation of the Dionysii, -who distributed them among the people of Syracuse. Naturally, when the -revolution came, these were the first to be seized and cudgelled to -death by the Syracusans. - -Blackmailers and informers are a breed belonging to the Busybody clan; -they are members of the family. But, whereas the informer looks to see -if his neighbours have done or plotted any mischief, the busybody brings -to book and drags into public even the misfortunes for which they are -not responsible. It is said that the outcast derived his name of -_aliterios_ in the first instance from being a busybody. It appears that -when a severe famine once occurred at Athens, and when those who were in -possession of wheat, instead of bringing it in to the public [Sidenote: -B] stock, used to grind it (_alein_) secretly by night in their houses, -certain persons, who went round watching for the noise of the mills, -were in consequence called _aliterioi_. It was in the same way, we are -told, that the informer won his name of _sukophantes_. The export of -figs (_suka_) being prohibited, those who gave information (_phainein_) -and impeached the offenders were called _sukophantai_. Busybodies would -do well to reflect upon this fact. It may make them ashamed of the -family likeness between their own practices and those of a class which -is a special object of loathing and anger. - -Footnote 42: - - These were farmed. - - - - - ON GARRULOUSNESS - - -[Sidenote: 502 B] When philosophy undertakes to cure garrulity it has a -difficult and intractable case in hand. The remedy is reason, which -requires that the patient should listen. But the garrulous person -[Sidenote: C] does not listen, for he is always talking. Herein lies the -first trouble with an inability to keep silent; it means an inability to -listen. It is the deliberate deafness of a person who appears to find -fault with nature for giving him two ears and only one tongue. Euripides -is, of course, right when he says of the unintelligent hearer: - - _I cannot fill a man who cannot hold - My wise words, poured and poured in unwise ears._ - -But there is more reason to say of the babbler: - - _I cannot fill a man who takes not in - My wise words, poured and poured in unwise ears_, - -—or rather poured over them, since he talks though you do [Sidenote: D] -not listen, and refuses to listen when you talk. For even if, thanks to -some ebb in his loquacity, he does listen for a moment, he immediately -makes up for it several times over. - -There is a colonnade at Olympia which reverberates a single utterance -time after time, and is therefore known as the ‘Seven-Voiced’. Say but -the least thing to set garrulity sounding, and it immediately dins you -with its echoes: - - _Stirring the strings o’ the mind that none should stir._ - -The passage through the babbler’s ears leads, apparently, not to his -mind, but to his tongue. Consequently, while others [Sidenote: E] retain -what is said, the loquacious person lets it all leak away, and goes -about like a vessel full of noise but void of sense. Nevertheless, if we -are resolved to leave no stone unturned, let us say to the babbler: - - _Hush, boy: in silence many a virtue lies_, - -and, first and foremost, the two virtues of hearing and being heard. The -garrulous person can get the benefit of neither, and makes a miserable -failure of the very thing he is aiming at. - -In other mental maladies—love of money, love of glory, love of -pleasure—there is at least a chance of gaining the object pursued. But -with the babbler that result can hardly happen. [Sidenote: F] What he -desires is listeners, and listeners he cannot get, for they all run -headlong away. If, when they are sitting in a lounge or taking a walk -together, they catch sight of him approaching, they promptly pass each -other the word to shift camp. - -When a silence occurs at some meeting, it is said that _Hermes has -appeared upon the scene_. Similarly, when a chatterer comes in to a -wine-party or a social circle, everybody grows mum, for [Sidenote: 503] -fear of giving him an opportunity. And if he begins of his own accord to -open his lips, then - - _As ere the storm, when the North wind blows - By the headland that juts to the deep_, - -the prospect of being tossed and seasick is so distressing that up they -get and out they go. - -For the same reason he finds no welcome from neighbours at a dinner or -from messmates on a journey or a voyage. They merely tolerate him -because they must. For he sticks to you anywhere and everywhere, seizing -you by the clothes or the beard, and slapping you in the ribs. - - _Then are your feet most precious_, - -as Archilochus would say—and not only Archilochus, but that wise man -Aristotle. When the latter was himself once worried [Sidenote: B] by a -chatterer, who bored him with a number of silly stories and kept -repeating, ‘Isn’t it wonderful, Aristotle?’ he retorted, ‘The wonder is -not at that, but at any one tolerating you, when he owns a pair of -legs.’ To another person of the kind, who, after a great deal of talk, -remarked, ‘Master, I have wearied you with my chatter,’ he replied, ‘Not -at all; I was not listening.’ Precisely so. If a chatterer insists on -talking, the mind surrenders the ears to him and lets the stream pour -over them on the outside, while inwardly it goes its own way, opening -[Sidenote: C] and reading to itself a book of quite different thoughts. -It follows that he can get no hearer either to attend to him or to -believe him. A babbler’s talk is as barren of effect as the seed of a -person over-prone to sexualities is said to be. - -And yet there is no part of us which Nature has fenced with so excellent -a barricade as the tongue. In front of that organ it has planted a guard -in the shape of the teeth, so that, if it will not obey orders and pull -itself together inside when reason tightens the ‘_silence-working -reins_‘,[43] we may check its rashness by biting it till it bleeds. The -phrase of Euripides is that ‘_disaster is the end_’ not of an -‘unchained’ treasury or storeroom, but of an ‘_unchained mouth_‘. To -recognize that a storeroom without a door, or a purse without a -fastening, is of no use to the owner, and yet to possess a mouth without -lock or door, but with as perpetual an outflow as the mouth of the -[Sidenote: D] Black Sea, is to set the lowest possible value on speech. - -The result is that such a person meets with no belief, though all speech -has that object, its final cause being to create precisely such credence -in the hearer. A chatterer is disbelieved even when he tells the truth. -For as wheat, when shut in a bin, is found to increase in bulk but to -deteriorate in quality, so, when a story finds its way into a chatterer, -it generates a large addition of falsehood and its credibility is -thereby corrupted. - -Again, any self-respecting and well-behaved person will beware of -drunkenness. For while—as some put it—anger lives next door to madness, -drunkenness lives in the same house. [Sidenote: E] Or rather it _is_ -madness, of shorter duration, it is true, but more culpable, as being in -a measure voluntary. But the charge most seriously urged against -drunkenness is its intemperate and irresponsible language: - - _For though right shrewd be a man, wine eggs him on till he singeth; - It loosens him that he laughs with a feeble laughter, and danceth._ - -Yet if this were the worst—singing, laughing, and dancing—there would -be, so far, nothing very terrible. - - _And he letteth slip some speech, the which were better unspoken_:— - -[Sidenote: F] that is where the mischief and danger begin. - -We may, indeed, believe that these lines of the poet give the solution -of the question discussed in the philosophic schools as to the -distinction between mellowness and intoxication: mellowness produces -unbending, but drunkenness foolish twaddling. As the proverb-makers put -it, ‘_What is in the sober man’s heart is on the drunken man’s tongue._’ -Hence when Bias once kept silent at a carousal, and a chatterer taunted -him with stupidity, he retorted: ‘And, pray, who could keep silent over -his wine, if he were a fool?’ A certain person at Athens was [Sidenote: -504] once entertaining envoys from a king, and, as they were eager for -him to get together the philosophic teachers, he made every effort to -gratify them. While the rest took part in general discussion, to which -each contributed his quota, Zeno said nothing. At this the visitors, -pledging him in friendly and courteous terms, asked him, ‘And what are -we to say to the king about you, Zeno?’ ‘Merely,’ replied he, ‘that -there is one old man at Athens who is capable of holding his tongue -[Sidenote: *] when drinking.’ - -Silence, then, goes with depth, the capacity to keep a secret, -[Sidenote: B] and sobriety. Drunkenness, on the other hand, will be -talking, for it means folly and witlessness, and therefore loquacity. In -fact, the philosophic definition of intoxication calls it ‘_silly talk -in one’s cups_‘. The blame, therefore, is not for drinking, if one can -drink and yet at the same time hold his tongue. It is the foolish talk -that converts mellowness into drunkenness. - -Well, while the drunken man talks nonsense at his wine, the babbler -talks it everywhere—in the market-place, in the theatre, when walking, -when tipsy, by day and by night. As your doctor, he is a greater -infliction than the disease; as your shipmate, more disagreeable than -the sea-sickness; his praises are more annoying than another person’s -blame. A tactful rogue is more pleasant company than an honest -chatterer. In Sophocles, when [Sidenote: C] Ajax is beginning to use -rough language, Nestor, in endeavouring to soothe him, says politely: - - _I blame thee not; for though thy words are wrong, - Thine acts are right._ - -But those are not our feelings towards the twaddler. On the contrary, -the tactlessness of his talk spoils and nullifies anything acceptable in -what he may do. - -Lysias once gave a litigant a speech which he had composed for him. -After reading it several times the man came back. In a despondent tone -he told Lysias that, when he first went through the speech, it appeared -wonderfully good, but on taking it up a second and third time, he found -it extremely weak and ineffective. ‘Well,’ said Lysias laughing, ‘isn’t -it only once [Sidenote: D] that you have to speak it before the jury?’ -And consider how persuasive and charming Lysias is! For he is another -who - - _Hath goodly portion, I trow, - Of the Muses violet-tress’d._ - -Of all things that are said about the great bard the truest is this—that -Homer alone manages never to cloy the appetite, since he is always new, -and his charm always at its height. Nevertheless, exclaiming on his own -account in the words of Odysseus: [Sidenote: *] - - _But to me it is hateful - To tell o’er a story again, when once right plainly ’tis told you_, - -he is continually avoiding that tendency to surfeit which threatens talk -of every kind, carrying his hearers from one story to another, and -relieving their satiety by his constant freshness. - -Our babblers, on the contrary, bore us to death with their repetitions, -as if our ears were palimpsests for them to scrawl rubbish upon. - -Let this, then, be the first thing of which we remind them. [Sidenote: -E] It is with talking as it is with wine. The purpose of wine is to -create pleasure and friendly feeling; but to insist upon our drinking it -in great quantities and without qualifying it, is to lead us into -offensive and wanton behaviour. So, while talk plays the most pleasant -and human part in our intercourse, those who make a wrong and rash use -of it render it inhuman and insufferable. The means by which they -imagine they are ingratiating themselves and gaining admiration and -friendship, only makes them a nuisance and wins them ridicule and -dislike. - -How destitute of charm would be a person who alienated his company and -drove them away with the very ‘girdle of charm’! And how destitute of -culture and tact is the man [Sidenote: F] who arouses annoyance and -hostility by means of speech! - -Other infirmities and disorders may be dangerous or detestable or -ridiculous. Garrulity is all three at once. It is derided for relating -what everybody knows; it is hated for bearing bad news; it is endangered -through blabbing secrets. This is the [Sidenote: 505] reason why, when -Anacharsis went to sleep after being entertained at dinner at Solon’s -house, he was seen to be holding his right hand over his mouth. He -believed—quite rightly—that the tongue requires a firmer control than -any other member. It would be difficult, for instance, to count up as -many persons who have been ruined by sensuality, as cities and dominions -which have been brought to destruction by the divulgence of a secret. -When Sulla was besieging Athens, he could not afford to spend much time -upon it, - - _Since other labour was urging_, - -Mithridates having seized upon Asia, and the Marian party [Sidenote: B] -being again masters of Rome. It happened, however, that a number of old -men were talking at a barber’s, to the effect that no watch was kept -upon the Heptachalcon and that the town was in danger of capture at that -point. They were overheard by spies, who gave information to Sulla; and -he promptly brought up his forces at midnight, led in his army, and -almost razed the city to the ground, filling it with carnage till the -Cerameicus flowed with blood. His anger with the Athenians was, however, -due more to their words than to their deeds. They would leap on to the -walls, and abuse him and Metella, and by jeering at him with [Sidenote: -C] - - _A mulberry is Sulla, sprinkled o’er with barley-meal_, - -and a number of similar scurrilities, they brought upon themselves—to -use a phrase of Plato—‘_a very heavy penalty_’ for that ‘_very light_’ -thing, their words. - -It was, again, the talkativeness of one man that prevented Rome from -obtaining its freedom by the removal of Nero. All preparations had been -made, and only a single night was left before the despot was to perish. -It happened, however, that the man who was to perform the assassination, -when on his way to the theatre, saw a prisoner at the palace doors on -the point of being brought before Nero. As he was bewailing his fate, -our friend came up close and whispered to him, ‘My good [Sidenote: D] -man, only pray that to-day may pass, and to-morrow you will be offering -me thanks.’ The prisoner grasped the meaning of the hint, and -reflecting, I suppose, that - - _’Tis a fool who forgoes what he holds, to pursue what is out of his - keeping_, - -chose the surer rather than the more righteous way of saving himself. -That is to say, he informed Nero of the expression used. The man was -thereupon promptly seized, and underwent rack, fire, and lash while -denying, in the face of constraint, what he had betrayed without any -constraint. - -The philosopher Zeno, for fear that bodily suffering might force him to -reveal some secret in spite of himself, bit through his tongue and spat -it out at the despot. Leaena, again, has been gloriously rewarded for -her self-command. She was the [Sidenote: E] mistress of Harmodius and -Aristogeiton, and she shared in their plot against the despots—to the -best of her hopes, which was all a woman could do. For she also was -inspired with the bacchic frenzy of that glorious ‘_bowl of love_‘, and -the God had caused her also to be initiated into the secret. Well, after -they had failed and met their death, she was put to the question and -ordered to inform against those who still escaped detection. She -refused, and the firmness with which she bore her sufferings [Sidenote: -F] proved that, in the love of those heroes for such a woman, there was -nothing unworthy of themselves. The Athenians therefore had a bronze -lioness made without a tongue, and set it up in the gates of the -Acropolis, that courageous animal representing her indomitable firmness, -and the absence of a tongue her power of silence in keeping a solemn -secret. - -No uttered word has ever done such service as many which have been -unuttered. You may some day utter what you have kept silent, but you -cannot unsay what has been said; it has been poured out, and has run -abroad. Hence, I take it, we have mankind to teach us how to speak, but -gods to teach us how to keep silent, our lesson in that art being -received at initiatory [Sidenote: 506] rites and mysteries. Odysseus, -who possessed most eloquence, the poet has made most reticent; he has -done the same with his son, his wife, and his nurse. You hear how she -says: - - _Like stubborn oak or like iron will I hold your secret and keep - it._ - -In the case of Odysseus himself, as he sat beside Penelope, - - _Though in his heart he pitied his wife, and was sore at her - weeping, - Steady within their lids stood his eyes as horn or as iron._ - -[Sidenote: B] So full of self-command was his body in every part, under -such perfect discipline and control did reason hold it, that it forbade -the eyes to shed a tear, the tongue to utter a sound, the heart to -tremble or cry out with rage; - - _And his heart once more did obey, and endure with a patient - enduring_, - -inasmuch as reason had extended even to his irrational movements and -made his very breath and blood amenable to its authority. Most of his -comrades also were of the same character. Self-command and loyalty could -no further go than in their case. Though harried and dashed upon the -ground by the Cyclops, they would not denounce Odysseus to him. They -would not betray the plot against his eye and the implement which had -[Sidenote: C] been sharpened in the fire for that purpose; but they -chose to be eaten raw rather than tell a word of the secret. - -Pittacus, therefore, was not far out, when, upon the King of Egypt -sending him a sacrificial victim and bidding him pick out the ‘fairest -and foulest’ part of the meat, he took out and sent him the tongue, as -being the instrument of both the greatest good and the greatest evil. - -Euripides’ Ino, making bold to speak for herself, says that she knows -how to be - - _Silent in season, speak where speech is safe._ - -Those, indeed, who are blessed with a noble and a truly royal education, -know first how to be silent and then how to talk. The famous king -Antigonus, when his son asked him at what [Sidenote: D] hour they were -to break camp, replied, ‘What are you afraid of? That you may be the -only one to miss hearing the trumpet?’ Was it that he did not trust with -a secret the man to whom he intended to bequeath his throne? Rather he -meant to teach him self-mastery and caution in dealing with such -matters. The aged Metellus, on being asked a similar question during a -campaign, answered, ‘If I thought my shirt knew that secret, I would -take it off and put it on the fire.’ When Eumenes heard that Craterus -was advancing, he told the fact to none of his friends, but pretended -that it was Neoptolemus, whom his [Sidenote: E] soldiers despised, -whereas they entertained a great respect for the reputation of Craterus -and a high esteem of his ability. As, however, no one else found out the -truth, they joined battle, won the victory, killed Craterus without -knowing him, and only discovered who he was from his corpse. So good a -general was the silence of Eumenes in the battle, and so formidable the -opponent whose presence it disguised, that his friends admired instead -of blaming him for not forewarning them. Even if some one does find -fault, it is better to be accused when mistrust has saved you than to be -the accuser when trust proves your undoing. - -What excuse can one possibly find for himself when blaming another for -not holding his tongue? If the matter ought not to [Sidenote: F] have -been known, it was wrong to tell it to any one else. If you let the -secret slip from yourself, and yet ask another person to keep it, you -take refuge in the loyalty of some one else while abandoning loyalty to -yourself. And if he turns out as bad as you, you are deservedly undone; -if better, you are saved by a miracle, through finding another person -more faithful to you than yourself. ‘But So-and-So is my friend.’ So is -a second person _his_ friend, whom _he_ again will trust as _I_ trust -_him_. So with that person and a third, and thus the talk will go on -[Sidenote: 507] increasing and extending in link after link of weak -betrayal. The Unit never goes beyond its own limit, but is, once and for -all, ‘oneness’—whence its name. But the number ‘two’ is the indefinite -beginning of difference, for by the duplication it at once shifts in the -direction of multitude. In the same way, so long as a piece of -information is confined to the first possessor, it is really and truly a -‘secret’. But if it passes by him to a second, it must be classed as a -‘report’. ‘_Winged words_,’ says the poet. If you let go from your hand -a thing with wings, it is not easy to get it back into your grasp; and -if you let an observation slip from your lips, it is impossible to seize -and secure it, but away it flies - - _on nimbly-whirling wing_, - -and circulates in all directions from one set of people to another. - -When a ship is caught by a wind, they put a check upon it [Sidenote: B] -and deaden its speed with cables and anchors; but let a speech run—so to -speak—out of port, and it finds no place to cast and ride at anchor. It -is carried away with a roar, till he who has uttered it is dashed and -sunk upon some great and terrible danger. - - _From but a little torch-light Ida’s heights - May all be set ablaze; so, tell but one, - And all the town will know it._ - -The Roman Senate had been engaged for a number of days [Sidenote: C] in -debating a secret matter of policy. As it gave rise to much -mystification and conjecture, a woman—otherwise irreproachable, but -still a woman—kept pestering her husband and imploring him to tell her -the secret. On her oath, she would be silent: if not, might a curse fall -upon her. She wept and wailed because she was ‘not trusted’. From a -desire to bring home her folly by a proof, the Roman said, ‘Have your -way, wife. But the news is terribly ominous. We have been informed by -the priests that a lark has been seen flying about with a gold helmet -and a spear. We are therefore discussing the portent, and are inquiring, -with the help of the augurs, whether it is good or bad. But mind you -tell nobody.’ With these words he went off to the Forum. The wife at -once seized hold of [Sidenote: D] the first maid-servant to enter the -room, and, beating her own breast and tearing her hair, exclaimed, ‘O my -poor husband and country! What will become of us?‘, her wish being to -give the maid the opportunity of asking ‘Why, what has happened?’ At any -rate she took the question as put, and told the tale, adding the -invariable refrain of every babbler, ‘Tell no one about it, but hold -your tongue.’ The girl no sooner left her than she looked for the -fellow-servant who had least to do, and [Sidenote: E] imparted it to -her. She in turn told it to her lover, who was paying her a visit. The -story went rolling on so rapidly that it reached the Forum before the -man who had invented it, and he was met by an acquaintance, who said, -‘Have you just come down from home?’ ‘This minute,’ he replied. ‘Then -you haven’t heard anything?’ ‘No. Why? Is there any news?’ ‘A lark has -been seen flying about with a gold helmet and a spear, and the -magistrates are about to hold a Senate meeting on the matter.’ At this -the man exclaimed with a laugh, ‘O wife, wife! What a speed! To think -the story has got to the Forum ahead of me!’ First he interviewed the -magistrates and relieved their anxiety; then, on going home, [Sidenote: -F] he proceeded to punish his wife by saying, ‘Wife, you have been the -ruin of me. The secret is public property, and the fault has been traced -to my house. And so I am to be exiled, all because of your loose -tongue.’ Upon her attempting to deny it by arguing ‘But there were three -hundred who heard it as well as you’, he retorted ‘Pooh for your three -hundred! I invented it to try you, all because of your persistence’. - -In this case the man took safe precautions in putting his wife -[Sidenote: 508] to the test, by pouring into the leaky vessel not wine -or oil, but water. It was otherwise with Fulvius, the close friend of -Augustus. The emperor in his old age was lamenting to him over his -desolate home and grieving because, two of his daughter’s children being -dead, and Postumius, the only one left, being in exile on some -calumnious charge, he was being driven to adopt his wife’s son as his -successor, although he felt compassion [Sidenote: B] for his grandson -and was considering the question of recalling him from abroad. Fulvius -divulged what he had heard to his wife, and she to Livia; whereupon -Livia took Caesar bitterly to task, asking why, if he had been so long -of this mind, he did not send for his grandson, instead of putting her -in a position of enmity and strife with the successor to the throne. -Accordingly, when Fulvius came to him—as he regularly did—in the morning -and said ‘Good morning, Caesar’, he replied ‘Good-bye, Fulvius’. Fulvius -took the hint, went away home at once, sent for his wife, and said, -‘Caesar knows that I have betrayed his secret, and I propose therefore -to put myself to death.’ ‘Rightly too,’ answered his wife, ‘seeing that, -after living with [Sidenote: C] me so long, you failed to discover the -looseness of my tongue and to guard against it. But after me, if you -please’—and seizing the sword she despatched herself first. - -The comic poet Philippides therefore acted rightly when, in answer to -the friendly civilities of King Lysimachus and his question ‘What is -there of mine that I can share with you?‘, he replied ‘What you choose, -Sire, except your secrets.’ - -On the other hand garrulity goes with the equally objectionable vice of -inquisitiveness. The babbler must find much to hear, so that he may have -much to tell. Especially must he go round tracking and hunting out -hidden secrets, so as to provide himself with a miscellaneous -stock-in-trade for his foolish [Sidenote: D] talk. Then, like a child -with a piece of ice, he neither likes to keep hold nor wants to let go. -Or rather, the secrets are reptiles, which he grasps and puts in his -bosom, but which he cannot hold tight, and so is devoured by them. -Garfish and vipers—so we are told—burst in giving birth to their young. -So the escape of a secret is ruin and destruction to him who lets it -out. - -Seleucus the Victorious, having lost all his army and resources in his -fight with the Gauls, tore off his royal circlet with his own hands, and -fled away on horseback with three or four attendants. After a long and -circuitous ride away from the highroads, he was at last so overcome by -want that he approached a homestead, and being fortunate enough to find -the owner in [Sidenote: E] person, asked him for bread and water. The -man not only gave him these, but supplied him liberally and in the most -friendly way with whatever else he had upon his farm. In doing so he -recognized the king’s face. So overjoyed was he at his fortunate -opportunity of rendering him service, that, instead of restraining -himself and playing up to the king’s desire to be unknown, he -accompanied him as far as the road, and, on taking his leave, said, -‘Good-bye, King Seleucus.’ At this the king, holding out his right hand -and drawing the man towards him as if to kiss him, gave a sign to one of -the attendants to cut off his head with a sword; - - _And so, with the word on his lips, his head in the dust lay - mingled_,— - -whereas, if he had then had the patience to hold his tongue [Sidenote: -F] for a little while, he would in all probability, when the king -subsequently won success and power, have earned a larger return for his -silence than for his hospitality. - -In this case, it is true, the man’s hopes and kindly feeling formed some -excuse for his lack of self-command. Most babblers, however, have no -excuse at all for their own undoing. For example, people were once -talking in a barber’s shop about the despotism of Dionysius, and saying -how firmly established it was against all assault. At this the barber -remarked laughingly, ‘How can you say that, when every few days I have -my [Sidenote: 509] razor at his throat?’ No sooner did Dionysius hear of -this speech than he impaled the barber. - -Barbers, by the way, are generally a garrulous crew. Their chairs being -the resort of the greatest chatterers, they catch the bad habit -themselves. It was a neat quip that Archelaus once gave to a loquacious -barber. After putting the towel round him, the man asked, ‘How shall I -cut your hair, Sire?’ ‘In silence,’ he replied. It was a barber also who -reported the great disaster of the Athenians in Sicily, he having been -the first to hear it at the Peiraeus from a slave, who had run away -[Sidenote: B] from the spot. Abandoning his shop, he hurried at full -speed to town, - - _Lest another the glory might win_ - -by imparting the news to the capital, - - _while he might come but the second_. - -A panic naturally ensued, and the people were gathered to an assembly, -where they set to work to trace the rumour to its source. When, however, -the barber was brought forward and questioned, he did not even know the -name of his informant, but could only give as his authority a person -unnamed and unknown. Thereupon the audience shouted in anger: ‘To the -rack and the wheel with the wretch! The thing is a pure concoction! Who -else has heard it? Who believes it?’ The wheel [Sidenote: C] had been -brought, and the man had been stretched upon it, when there appeared -upon the scene the bearers of the disastrous news, who had escaped from -the very midst of the action. At this they all dispersed, to occupy -themselves with their private griefs, leaving the poor wretch bound upon -the wheel. When at a late hour towards evening he was set free, he -proceeded to ask the executioner ‘whether they had also heard in what -manner Nicias, the commander, had met his death’. Such a hopeless and -incorrigible failing does garrulity become through force of habit. - -After drinking a bitter and evil-smelling medicine, we are disgusted -with the cup as well. In the same way, if you are the bearer of bad -news, you are regarded with disgust and hatred by those who hear it. -Hence a pretty discussion in Sophocles: [Sidenote: D] - - A. _Is it in ear or heart that thou art stung?_ - - B. _Why seek thus to define where lies my pain?_ - - A. _’Tis the doer grieves thine heart, I but thine ears._ - -Be that as it may, a speaker causes pain as well as a doer. Nevertheless -there is no stopping or chastening a loose, glib tongue. - -On one occasion it was discovered that the temple of Athena ‘Of the -Bronze House’ at Sparta had been pillaged, and an empty flask was found -lying inside. The crowd which had run together could make nothing of it, -when one of their number said, ‘If you like, I will tell you my notion -as to the flask. I fancy the robbers, realizing all the danger they were -to run, first drank hemlock, and then brought wine with them. If they -managed to escape detection, they were to neutralize [Sidenote: E] the -effects of the poison by drinking the unmixed wine, and so get away in -safety. If they were caught, they were to die an easy and painless death -from the poison, before they could be put to torture.’ The theory was so -ingenious and acute that it appeared to come of knowledge rather than -conjecture. He was therefore surrounded and questioned on every -side—‘Who are [Sidenote: F] you? Who knows you? How do you get to know -all that?‘—till finally, under this searching examination, he confessed -that he was one of the thieves. - -Were not the murderers of Ibycus found out in the same way? As they were -sitting in the theatre, a number of cranes happened to come in sight, -and they whispered laughingly to one another, ‘Here are the avengers of -Ibycus!’ They were overheard by persons sitting near them, and as a -search was being made for Ibycus, who had been missing for a -considerable time, the words were seized upon and reported to the -magistrates. By this means the matter was brought home, and the -assassins carried off to prison, where their punishment was due, not to -the cranes, but to their own garrulity, which played the part [Sidenote: -510] of an Erinys or Spirit of Vengeance in compelling them to divulge -the murder. For as in the body, when a part is diseased or in pain, the -neighbouring matter gathers towards it by attraction; so is it with the -babbler’s tongue. Perpetually throbbing and inflamed, it must keep -drawing towards itself some secret or other which ought to be concealed. - -We must therefore make ourselves secure. Let Reason lie like a barrier -in the way of the tongue, to restrain its flow or prevent its slipping. -And let us show that we possess no less [Sidenote: B] sense than certain -geese of which we are told. It is said that, when they cross from -Cilicia over the Taurus Range—which is full of eagles—they clap a bolt -or bit upon their utterance. That is to say, they take in their mouths a -good-sized stone, and so fly over at night without being discovered. - -Now if it were asked - - _Who it is that is the vilest, who most unredeemed of men_, - -it is the traitor who would always be named before any one else. Well, -Euthycrates (as Demosthenes puts it) ‘_roofed his house with the timber -got from Macedon_‘. Philocrates received a large sum of gold and -proceeded to buy ‘_strumpets and fish_‘. Euphorbus and Philagrus, who -betrayed Eretria, received lands [Sidenote: C] from the Persian king. -But the babbler is a traitor who volunteers his services without pay, -not in the way of betraying horses or fortresses, but of divulging -secrets connected with lawsuits, party feuds, or political manœuvres. -Instead of any one thanking him, he actually has to thank people for -listening to him. The line addressed to a man who was recklessly -squandering his money by giving indiscriminate presents— - - _Not generous, you: ’tis your disease; you love to be a-giving_— - -fits the prater also. ‘You do not give this information out of -friendliness and goodwill. ’Tis your disease; you love to be a-talking -and a-babbling.’ - -These remarks are not to be regarded as simply an indictment of -garrulity. They are an attempt to cure it. An ailment is [Sidenote: D] -overcome by diagnosis and treatment, but diagnosis comes first. No one -can be trained to avoid or to rid his mental constitution of a thing -which causes him no distress. That distress we learn to feel at our -disorders, when reason leads us to perceive the injury and shame which -result from them. Thus in the present instance we perceive that the -babbler is hated where he desires to be liked, annoys where he wishes to -ingratiate himself, is derided where he thinks he is admired, and spends -without gaining anything by it. He wrongs his friends, assists his -[Sidenote: E] enemies, and ruins himself. The first step, therefore, in -physicing this disorder, is to reflect upon the disgrace and pain which -it causes. The second is to consider the advantages of the contrary -behaviour, constantly hearing, remembering, and keeping at our call the -praises of reticence, the solemn and sacramental associations of -silence, and the fact that it is not by your unbridled talker at large -that admiration, regard, and reputation for wisdom are won, but by the -man of short and pithy speech, who can pack much sense into few words. - -We find Plato commending such persons, and saying that, in [Sidenote: F] -their deliverance of crisp, terse, and compact utterances, they resemble -a skilful javelineer. Lycurgus, again, forced his fellow-citizens to -acquire this gift of compression and solidity by applying the pressure -of silence from their earliest childhood. - -The Celtiberians produce steel from iron by first burying it in the -ground and then clearing away the earthy surplusage. So is it with -Lacedaemonian speech. It has no surplusage, but is steadily hardened -down to absolute effectiveness by the removal of everything unessential. -And this knack of theirs of saying a pithy thing, or making a keen and -nimble retort, is the result of a great habit of silence. - -[Sidenote: 511] We must not omit to give our chatterer examples of such -brevities, in order to show how pretty and effective they are. For -instance: - - _The Lacedaemonians to Philip_: _Dionysius at Corinth_; - -and, again, when Philip wrote to them ‘_If I enter Laconia, I will turn -you out_‘, they wrote back, ‘_If._’ When King Demetrius shouted in his -indignation, ‘Have the Lacedaemonians sent only one envoy to _me_?‘, the -envoy replied undismayed, ‘One to one.’ Among our ancient worthies also -we admire [Sidenote: B] the men of few words. It was not the _Iliad_ or -the _Odyssey_ or the paeans of Pindar that the Amphictyons inscribed -upon the temple of the Pythian Apollo, but the maxims _Know Thyself_: -_Nothing in Excess_: _Give pledge, and Mischief is nigh_, which they -admired for their simple and compact expression, with its -closely-hammered thought in small compass. And does not the god himself -show a love of conciseness and brevity in his oracles, deriving his name -of ‘Loxias’ from the fact that he would rather be obscure than -garrulous? - -Do we not also particularly praise and admire those who can say, by -means of a symbol and without speaking a word, all that [Sidenote: C] is -necessary? For instance, when his fellow-citizens insisted upon -Heracleitus proposing some measure for the promotion of concord, he -mounted the platform, took a cup of cold water, sprinkled it with -barley-meal, stirred it with a slip of pennyroyal, drank it off, and -went home. This was his way of intimating that to be satisfied with the -commonest things, and to have no expensive wants, is the way to maintain -a community in peace and concord. Another case is that of Scilurus, the -Scythian king, who left behind him eighty sons. When he was dying, he -called for a bundle of small spears, and bade them take and break it in -pieces, tied together as it was, and in the mass. When they gave up the -task, he himself drew the spears out one by one and snapped them all -with ease, thereby demonstrating [Sidenote: D] how invincible was their -strength if harmoniously united, how weak and short-lived if they did -not hold together. - -Any one, I believe, who constantly recalls these and the like examples, -will cease to take a pleasure in chattering. But—speaking for -myself—there is a story of a certain slave which greatly discourages me, -when I reflect how hard it is to be so careful of our words as to make -sure of our purpose. The orator Pupius Piso, not wishing to be troubled, -ordered his slaves to talk only in answer to questions, and not a word -more. Subsequently, being anxious to welcome Clodius in his official -position, he gave orders for him to be invited to dinner, and prepared -what was, of course, a splendid banquet. When the hour arrived, the -other guests were all present and waiting for [Sidenote: E] Clodius. The -slave who regularly carried the invitations was repeatedly sent out to -see whether he was on his way. When evening came and he was given up in -despair, Piso said to the slave, ‘Of course you took him the -invitation?’ ‘I did,’ he answered. ‘Then why has he not appeared?’ -‘Because he refused.’ ‘Then why did you not tell me so at once?’ -‘Because you did not ask me that question.’ - -So much for the slave at Rome, whereas at Athens he will tell his master -while digging - - _What terms are named i’ the treaty_, - -so great in all things is the force of habituation. To habituation let -us now turn. - -[Sidenote: F] We cannot check the babbler by taking, as it were, a grip -on the reins. The malady can only be overcome by habit. - -In the first place, therefore, when questions are asked of your -neighbours, train yourself to keep silent until they have all failed to -answer. - - _Counsel hath other ends than running hath_, - -says Sophocles, and so has speech or answer. In running, the victor is -the man who comes in first, but here the case is different. If another -makes a satisfactory reply, the proper course is to lend approval and a -word of support, and so win credit for good [Sidenote: 512] feeling. If -he fails, there is nothing invidious or inopportune in giving the -information which he does not possess, or in supplementing his -deficiencies. But above all things let us be on our guard, when a -question is put to another person, that we do not anticipate him and -take the answer out of his mouth. In any case in which a request is made -of another it is, of course, improper for us to push him aside and offer -our own services. By doing so we shall appear to be casting a slur on -both parties; as if the one were incapable of performing what is asked, -and as if the other did not know the right quarter from which to get -what he asks for. But it is especially in connexion with answers to -questions that such impudent forwardness is an outrage on [Sidenote: B] -manners. To give the answer before the person questioned has time, -implies the remark, ‘What do you want _him_ for?‘, or ‘What does _he_ -know?‘, or, ‘When _I_ am present, nobody else should be asked that -question.’ - -Yet we often put a question to a person, not because we need the -information, but by way of eliciting from him a few words of a friendly -nature, or from a wish to lead him on to converse, as Socrates did with -Theaetetus and Charmides. To take the answer out of another’s mouth, to -divert attention to yourself and wrest it from another, is as bad as if, -when a person desired to be kissed by some one else, you ran forward and -kissed him yourself, or as if, when he was looking at another, you -twisted him round in your own direction. The right and proper [Sidenote: -C] course, even if the person who is asked for information cannot give -it, is to wait, to take your cue to answer from the wish of the -questioner—his invitation not having been addressed to you—and then to -meet the situation in a modest and mannerly way. If a person of whom a -question is asked makes a mistake in answering it, he meets with a due -measure of indulgence; but one who pushes himself forward and insists on -answering first, receives no welcome if he is right, while, if he is -wrong, he becomes an object of positive exultation and derision. - -The second item of our regimen concerns the answering of questions put -to ourselves. Our garrulous friend must be particularly careful with -these. In the first place he must not be deceived into giving serious -replies to those who merely provoke him into a discussion in order to -make a laughing-stock of him. [Sidenote: D] Sometimes persons who -require no information simply concoct a question for the amusement and -fun of the thing, and submit it to a character of this kind in order to -set his foolish tongue wagging. Against this trick he must be on his -guard. Instead of promptly jumping at the subject as if he were -grateful, he should consider both the character of the questioner and -the necessity for the question. And when it is clear that information is -really desired, he must make a habit of waiting and leaving some -interval between question and answer. There will then be time for the -inquirer to add anything he wishes, and for himself to reflect upon his -reply, instead of overrunning and muddling the question, hurriedly -giving [Sidenote: E] first one answer and then another while the -question is still going on. - -The Pythian priestess, of course, is accustomed to deliver oracles on -the instant, even before the question is asked, inasmuch as the God whom -she serves - - _Understandeth the dumb, and heareth a man though he speak not._ - -But if you wish your answer to be to the purpose, you must wait for the -questioner’s thought to be expressed, and discover [Sidenote: F] -precisely what he is aiming at. Otherwise it will be a case of the old -saying: - - _Asked for a bucket, they refused a tub._ - -In any case that ravenous greed to be talking must be checked. Otherwise -it will seem as if a stream, which has long been banked up at the -tongue, is taking joyful advantage of the question to disgorge itself. -Socrates used to control his thirst on the same principle. He would not -permit himself to drink after exercise without pouring away the first -jugful drawn from the well, thereby training his irrational part to wait -until reason named the time. - -[Sidenote: 513] There are three possible kinds of answer to a -question—the barely necessary, the polite, and the superfluous. For -instance, to the inquiry, ‘Is Socrates at home?‘, one person may reply, -in an offhand and apparently grudging way, ‘Not at home;’ or, if he is -disposed to adopt the Laconian style, he will omit the ‘at home’ and -merely utter the negative. Thus the Lacedaemonians, when Philip had -written to ask, ‘Do you [Sidenote: *] receive me into your city?‘, wrote -a large _No_ on a piece of paper and sent it back. Another, with more -politeness, answers, ‘No, but you will find him at the bankers’ -tables’—going so far, perhaps, as to add, ‘waiting for some strangers.’ -But, [Sidenote: B] third, our inordinate chatterbox—at any rate, if he -happens also to have read Antimachus of Colophon—will say, ‘No; but you -will find him at the bankers’ tables, waiting for some strangers from -Ionia, concerning whom he has had a letter from Alcibiades, who is near -Miletus, staying with Tissaphernes, the Great King’s Satrap, the same -who used formerly to help the Lacedaemonians, but who is now attaching -himself to the Athenians, thanks to Alcibiades; for Alcibiades is -anxious to be recalled from exile, and is therefore working upon -Tissaphernes to change sides.’ In fact he will talk the whole eighth -book of Thucydides and will deluge the questioner with it, until, before -he has done, there is war with Miletus and Alcibiades has been exiled -for [Sidenote: C] the second time. - -Here especially should loquacity be repressed. It should be forced to -follow in the footsteps of the question, and to confine the answer -within the circle of which the questioner’s requirement gives the centre -and radius. When Carneades, before he became famous, was once -discoursing in the gymnasium, the superintendent sent and requested him -to lower his voice, which was a very loud one. Upon his replying ‘Give -me my limit for reach of voice’, the officer aptly rejoined ‘The person -who is speaking with you’. So, in making an answer, let the limit -[Sidenote: D] be the wishes of the questioner. - -In the next place remember how Socrates used to urge the avoidance of -those foods and drinks which induce you to eat when you are not hungry -and to drink when you are not thirsty. So those subjects in which he -most delights, and in which he indulges most immoderately, are the -subjects which the babbler should shun, and whose advances he should -resist. For example, military men are given to prosing about wars. Homer -introduces Nestor in that character, making him relate his own deeds of -prowess time after time. Take, again, those who have scored a victory in -the law-courts, or who have met with surprising success at the courts of -governors or kings. Generally [Sidenote: E] speaking, they are chronic -sufferers from an itch to talk about it, and to describe over and over -again how they came in, how they were introduced, how they played their -parts, how they talked, how they confuted some opponent or accuser, and -what eulogies they won. Their delight is more loquacious than that -‘sleepless night’ in the comedy, and is perpetually fanning itself into -new flame and keeping itself fresh by telling over the tale. They are -therefore prone to slip into such subjects at every pretext. For not -only - - _Where the pain is, there also goes the hand_; - -[Sidenote: F] no less does the part which feels pleasure draw the voice -and twist the tongue in its own direction, from a desire to dwell -perpetually on the theme. It is the same also with amorous persons, who -chiefly occupy themselves with such conversation as brings up some -mention of the object of their passion. If they cannot talk to human -beings about it, they do so to inanimate things: - - _O bed most dear!_ - -or - - _Bacchis thought thee a god, thou blessed lamp; - And greatest god thou art, methinks, through her._ - -No doubt it makes not a pin’s difference to the chatterer [Sidenote: -514] what subject of conversation may arise. Nevertheless, if he has a -greater predilection for one class of subjects than for another, he -ought to be on his guard against that class and force himself to hold -aloof from it, since those are the subjects which can always tempt him -furthest into prolixity for the pleasure of the thing. It is the same -with those matters in which the talker thinks that his experience or -ability gives him a superiority over other people. Through egotism and -vanity such a person - - _Giveth the most part of the day to that - Wherein he showeth to the most advantage._ - -With the much-read man it is general information; with the [Sidenote: B] -expert in letters, the rules of literary art; with the much-travelled -man, accounts of foreign parts. These subjects also must therefore be -shunned. They are an enticement to loquacity, which is led on to them -like an animal towards its wonted fodder. One admirable feature in the -conduct of Cyrus was that, in his matches with his mates, he challenged -them to compete at something in which he was not more, but less, expert -than they. Thus, while he caused no pain by eclipsing them, he also -derived advantage from a lesson. With the chatterer it is the other way -about. If any subject is mooted which gives him the opportunity of -asking and learning something he does not know, he cannot even pay so -small a fee [Sidenote: C] for it as merely holding his tongue, but he -blocks the topic and elbows it aside, working steadily round till he -drives the conversation into the well-worn track of stale old twaddle. - -We have had an example of this among ourselves, where a person who -happened to have read two or three books of Ephorus used to weary every -one to death, and put any convivial party to rout, by everlastingly -describing the battle of Leuctra and its sequel, until he earned the -nickname of ‘Epaminondas’. If, however, we are to choose between evils, -this is the least, and we must divert loquacity into this channel. -Talkativeness will be [Sidenote: D] less disagreeable when its excess is -in an expert connexion. - -In the next place such persons should habituate themselves to putting -things in a written or conversational form when alone. The case is not -as with Antipater the Stoic. He gained his sobriquet of ‘Pen-Valiant’ -because, being—as it would appear—unable and unwilling to come out and -meet the vehement attacks made by Carneades upon the Porch, he kept -filling his books with written disputations against him. But if the -babbler turns to writing and valiantly fights shadows with his pen, the -occupation will keep him from attacking people at large and will render -him daily more bearable to his company. It will be as with dogs. Let -them vent their anger on sticks and stones, and they are less ferocious -to human beings. [Sidenote: E] - -Another extremely beneficial course for talkers to adopt is to associate -continually with their superiors and elders, out of respect for whose -standing they will develop a habit of holding their tongues. - -As part and parcel of this training we should always vigilantly apply -the following reflection, when we are on the point of talking and the -words begin running to our mouths: ‘What _is_ this remark that is so -pressing and importunate? With what object is my tongue so impatient? -What honour do I get by speaking, or what harm by keeping quiet?’ If the -thought were an oppressive weight to be got rid of, the matter would be -[Sidenote: F] different; but it remains with you just as much, even if -it is spoken. When men talk, it is either for their own sake, because -they want something, or it is to help the hearer; or else they seek to -ingratiate themselves with each other by seasoning with the salt of -rational conversation the pastime or business in which they happen to be -engaged. But if a remark is neither of advantage to the speaker nor of -importance to the hearer, if it contains nothing pleasant or -interesting, why is it made? The [Sidenote: *] meaningless and futile is -as much to be avoided in words as it is in deeds. - -Over and above all this, we should keep in lively recollection -[Sidenote: 515] the saying of Simonides that he ‘had often repented of -talking, but never of holding his tongue’. We should remember also that -practice is a potent thing and overcomes all difficulties. People get -rid even of the hiccoughs or a cough by resolutely resisting them. Yet -this involves trouble and pain, whereas silence not only, as Hippocrates -says, ‘prevents thirst;’ it also prevents pain and suffering. - -Footnote 43: - - The Homeric σιγαλόεντα (‘glossy’) is brought, either in error or by a - deliberate pun, into relation with σιγή (‘silence’). - - - - - ON THE STUDENT AT LECTURES - - -MY DEAR NICANDER, [Sidenote: 37 C] - -This is an article upon ‘The Attitude of the Student’, which I have -written and am sending to you. Its purpose is to teach you the right -attitude towards your philosophic teacher, now that you are a grown-up -man and are no longer obliged merely to obey orders. - -Some young men are so ill-informed as to suppose that absence of -restraint is the same thing as freedom, whereas, by unchaining -[Sidenote: D] the passions, it makes them slaves to a set of masters -more tyrannical than all the teachers and mentors of childhood. -Herodotus says that when women take off the tunic they also take off -shame. It is the same with some young men. In laying aside the garb of -childhood they also lay aside shame and fear. No sooner do they unloose -the cloak which controlled their conduct than they indulge in the utmost -misbehaviour. With you it should be otherwise. You have been told over -and over again that to ‘follow God’ and to ‘obey reason’ are the same -thing. Understand, therefore, that with right-minded persons a coming of -age does not mean rejection of rule, but change of ruler. For the hired -or purchased[44] director of conduct they [Sidenote: E] substitute one -that is divine—namely, reason. Only those who follow reason deserve to -be considered free; for they alone live as they choose, because they -alone have learned to make the right choice, whereas ignorant and -irrational desires and actions give small and paltry scope to the will, -but great scope to repentance. - -Note what happens in the case of naturalized citizens. Entire [Sidenote: -F] foreigners from another country will often grumble irritably at their -experiences, whereas those who have previously been denizens of the -state, and have therefore lived in intimate touch with the laws, will -accept their obligations with cheerful readiness. So with yourself. For -a long time you have been growing up in the company of philosophy. From -the first you have been accustomed to a taste of philosophic reason in -everything that you have been taught or told as a child. It should -therefore be in a well-disposed and congenial spirit that you come to -Philosophy, who alone can adorn a youth with that finish of manhood -which genuinely and rationally deserves the name. - -You will not, I believe, object to a prefatory remark upon [Sidenote: -38] the sense of hearing. Theophrastus asserts that it is the most -susceptible of all the senses, inasmuch as nothing that can be seen, -tasted, or touched, is the cause of such strong emotional disturbance -and excitement as takes hold upon the mind when certain sounds of -beating, clashing, or ringing fall upon the ear. It is, however, more -rational, rather than more emotional, than the other senses. Vice can -find many places and parts of the body open for it to enter and seize -upon the soul. But the only hold that virtue can take is upon pure young -ears [Sidenote: B] which have at all times been protected from the -corruptions of flattery or the touch of low communications. Hence the -advice of Xenocrates, that ear-guards should be worn by boys more than -by athletes, inasmuch as the latter merely have their ears disfigured by -blows, while the former have their characters disfigured by words. Not -that he would wed us to inattention or deafness. It is but a warning to -beware of wrong communications, and to see that others of the right -nature have first been fostered in our character by philosophy and have -mounted guard in that quarter which is most open to influence and -persuasion. - -Bias, the ancient sage, was once bidden by Amasis to send him that piece -of meat from a sacrificial victim which was at the same time the best -and the worst. He replied by taking out and sending the tongue, on the -ground that speech can do both the greatest harm and the greatest good. -It is a general practice in fondling little children to take them by the -ears, and to bid [Sidenote: C] them do the same to us—an indirect and -playful way of suggesting that we should be especially fond of those who -make our ears the instruments to our advantage. - -It is, of course, obvious that a youth cannot be debarred from any or -every kind of hearing, or from tasting any discourse at all. Otherwise -not only will he remain entirely without fruit or growth in the way of -virtue; he will actually be perverted in the direction of vice, his mind -being an idle and uncultivated patch producing a plentiful crop of -weeds. Propensity to pleasure and dislike of labour—the springs of -innumerable forms of trouble and disease—are not of external origin, nor -imported [Sidenote: D] from teaching, but they well up naturally from -the soil. If therefore they are left free to take their natural course; -if they are not done away with, or turned aside, by sound instruction; -if nature is not thus brought under control, man will prove more -unreclaimed than any brute beast. - -The hearing of lectures, then, may be of great profit, but at the same -time of great danger, to a young man. This being so, I believe it a good -thing to make the matter one of constant discussion, both with oneself -and with others. In most cases [Sidenote: E] we may notice a false -procedure—that of cultivating the art of speaking before being trained -to the art of listening. It is thought that, while speaking requires -instruction and practice, any kind of listening is attended with profit. -But not so. Whereas in ball-play one learns simultaneously how to throw -and how to catch, in the business of speech the right taking in is prior -to the giving out, just as conception is prior to parturition. We are -told that in the case of a hen laying a wind-egg her labour and travail -end in nothing but an abortive and lifeless piece of refuse. So when a -young man lacks the ability to listen, [Sidenote: F] or the training to -gather profit through the ear, the speech which he lets fall is -wind-begotten indeed: - - _Sans all regard and sans note it is lost in the clouds and - dispersèd._ - -He will take a vessel and tilt it in the right direction for receiving -anything to be poured into it, and so ensure a real ‘in-pouring’ instead -of a pouring to waste. But he does not learn to lend his own attention -to a speaker and meet the lecture half-way, so as to miss no valuable -point. On the contrary, his behaviour is in the last degree ridiculous. -If he happens upon a person [Sidenote: 39] describing a dinner, a -procession, a dream, or a brawling-match in which he has been engaged, -he listens in silence and is eager for more. But if a teacher to whom he -has attached himself tries to impart something useful, or to urge him to -some duty, to admonish him when wrong, or to soothe him when angry, he -is out of all patience. If possible, he shows fight, and is ambitious to -get the best of the argument. Otherwise he is off and away to discourses -of a different and a rubbishy kind, filling his ears—the poor leaky -vessels—with anything rather than the thing they need. - -[Sidenote: B] From the right kind of breeder a horse obtains a good -mouth for the bit, and a lad a good ear for reason. He is taught to do -much listening, but to avoid much speaking. We may quote the remark of -Spintharus in praise of Epaminondas, that he had scarcely ever met with -any man either of greater judgement or of fewer words. Moreover, we are -told, the reason why nature gave each of us two ears, but only one -tongue, was that we should do less speaking than hearing. - -A youth is at all times sure to find silence a credit to him; but in one -case it is especially so—when he can listen to another without becoming -excited and continually yelping; when, even [Sidenote: C] if what is -being said is little to his liking, he waits patiently for the speaker -to finish; when, at the close, he does not immediately come to the -attack with his contradiction, but (to quote Aeschines) waits a while, -in case the speaker might wish to supplement his remarks, or perhaps to -adjust or qualify his position. To take instant objection, neither party -listening to the other but both talking at once, is an unseemly -performance. On the other hand, those who have been trained to listen -with modest self-control will accept a valuable argument and make it -their own, while they will be in a better position to see through a -worthless or false one and to expose it, thereby [Sidenote: D] showing -that they are lovers of truth, and not merely contentious, headstrong, -or quarrelsome persons. It is therefore not a bad remark of some, that -there is more need to expel the wind of vanity and self-conceit from the -young, than to expel the air from a skin, when you wish to pour in -anything of value: otherwise they are too swollen and flatulent to -receive it. - -The presence of envious and malicious jealousy is, of course, never to -good purpose, but always an impediment to proper action. In the case of -a student at lectures it is the most perverse of prompters. Words which -ought to do him good are rendered vexing, distasteful, and unwelcome by -the fact that there is nothing which an envious man likes so little as -an [Sidenote: E] excellent piece of reasoning. And note that, when a man -is piqued by fame or beauty belonging to others, he is envious and -nothing more; what annoys him is another’s good fortune. But when he is -irritated by admirable argument, his vexation is at his own good, since -reason—if he has a mind to accept it—is as much to the good of one who -hears as light is to the good of one who sees. - -Envy in other matters is the result of various coarse or low attitudes -of mind; envy of a speaker is born of inordinate love of glory and -unfair ambition. A person so disposed is prevented [Sidenote: F] from -listening to reason. His mind is perturbed and distracted. At one and -the same time it is looking at its own endowments, to see if they are -inferior to those of the speaker, and at the rest of the company, to see -if they are wondering and admiring. It is disgusted at their applause, -and exasperated at their approval. The previous portions of the speech -it forgets and ignores, because the recollection is irksome. The parts -yet to come it awaits with trembling anxiety, for fear they may prove -better still. When the speaker is at his best, it is most [Sidenote: 40] -eager for him to stop. When the lecture is over, it thinks of nothing -that was said, but takes count of the expressions and attitudes of the -audience. From those who give praise it dances away in a frenzy; and to -those who carp and distort it runs to form one of the herd. If there is -nothing to distort, it makes comparisons with others who have spoken -‘better and more eloquently to the same purpose’. In the end our friend -has so cruelly mishandled the lecture that he has made it of no use or -profit to himself. - -[Sidenote: B] Let the love of glory, then, be brought to terms with the -love of learning. Let us listen to a speaker with friendly courtesy, -regarding ourselves as guests at a sacred banquet or sacrificial -offering. Let us praise his ability when he makes a hit, or be satisfied -with the mere goodwill of a man who is making the public a present of -his views and endeavouring to convince others by means of the arguments -which have convinced himself. When he goes right, let us consider that -his rightness is due not to chance or accident, but to painstaking -effort and learning. Let us take a pattern by it, and not only admire -it, but emulate it. When he is at fault, let us stop and think for what -reasons he is so, and at what point he began to go astray. [Sidenote: C] -Xenophon observes that good managers derive profit from their enemies as -well as from their friends. In the same way those who are attentive and -alert derive benefit from a speaker not only when he is in the right, -but also when he is in the wrong. Paltry thought, empty phrase, affected -bearing, vulgar delight and excitement at applause, and the like, are -more palpable to a listener in another’s case than to a speaker in his -own. It is well, therefore, to take the criticism which we apply to him, -and apply it to ourselves, asking whether we commit any mistake of the -kind without being aware of it. It is the easiest thing in [Sidenote: D] -the world to find fault with our neighbour, but it is a futile and -meaningless proceeding, unless made to bear in some way upon the -correction or prevention of similar faults. When lapses are committed, -let us always be prompt to exclaim to ourselves in the phrase of Plato, -‘Am I, perhaps, as bad?’ As in the eyes of our neighbour we see the -reflection of our own, so we should find a picture of our own speech in -that of another. In that way we shall avoid treating others with -over-confident contempt, and shall also look more carefully to our own -deliverances. - -There is another way in which comparison serves this useful [Sidenote: -E] purpose. I mean if, when we get by ourselves after the lecture, we -take some point which appears to have been wrongly or unsatisfactorily -treated, and attack the same theme, doing our best to fill in, to -correct, to re-word, or to attempt an entirely original contribution to -the subject, as the case may be—doing, in fact, as Plato did[45] with -the speech of Lysias. While to argue against a certain deliverance is -not difficult, but, on the contrary, very easy, to set up a better in -its stead is an extremely hard matter. As the Lacedaemonian said on -hearing that Philip had razed Olynthus to the ground: ‘Yes, but to -create a city as good is beyond the man’s power’. Accordingly, -[Sidenote: F] when we find that in dealing with the same subject we can -do but little better than the speaker in the case, we make a large -reduction in our contempt and speedily prune down that self-satisfied -conceit which has been exposed during such process of comparison. - -Nevertheless, though admiration, as opposed to contempt, certainly -betokens a fairer and gentler nature, it is a thing which, in its own -turn, requires no little—perhaps greater—caution. [Sidenote: 41] For -while a contemptuous and over-confident person derives too little -benefit from a speaker, an enthusiastic and guileless admirer derives -too much injury. He forms no exception to the rule of Heracleitus that -‘_Any dictum will flutter a fool_‘. One should be frank in yielding -praise to the speaker, but cautious in yielding belief to the assertion; -a kindly and candid observer of the diction and delivery of the arguer, -but a sharp and exacting critic of the truth and value of his argument. -[Sidenote: B] While we thus escape dislike from the speaker, we escape -harm from the speech. How many false and pernicious doctrines we -unawares accept through esteeming and trusting their exponent! The -Lacedaemonian authorities, after examining a measure suggested by a man -of evil life, instructed another person, famous for his conduct and -character, to move it—a very proper and statesmanlike encouragement to -the people to be led more by the character of an adviser than by his -speech. But in philosophy we must put aside the reputation of the -speaker and examine the speech in and by itself. In lecturing, as in -war, there is much that is mere show. The speaker’s grey hairs, his -vocal [Sidenote: C] affectations, his supercilious airs, his -self-glorification; above all, the shouting, applauding, and dancing of -the audience overwhelm the young and inexperienced student and sweep him -along with the current. There is deception in the language also, when it -streams upon the question in a delightful flood, and when it contains a -measure of studied art and the grandiose. As, in singing to the -accompaniment of the flageolet, mistakes are generally undetected by an -audience, so an elaborate and pretentious diction dazzles the hearer and -blinds him to the sense. I believe it was Melanthius who, when asked -about [Sidenote: D] Diogenes’ tragedy, replied: ‘I could not get a sight -of it; it was hidden behind the words.’ But with the discourses and -declamations of the majority of our professors it is not merely a case -of using the words to screen the thoughts. They also dulcify the -voice—modulating, smoothing, and intoning—till the hearer is carried -away with a perfect intoxication. They give an empty pleasure, and are -paid with an emptier fame. Their case, in fact, is one for the quip -given by Dionysius. It was he, I think, who, during the performance of a -distinguished harp-player, promised him a liberal reward, but -subsequently gave [Sidenote: E] him nothing, on the ground that he had -made a sufficient return. ‘For as long a time as I was enjoying your -singing’, said he, ‘you were enjoying your expectations.’ The deliverer -of the lectures in question finds that they represent a joint -contribution of the same kind. He receives admiration as long as his -entertainment lasts. As soon as no more pleasure is forthcoming for the -ear, there is no more glory left for him. The one party has wasted his -time, the other his professional life. - -Let us, then, strip aside all this empty show of language, and make for -the actual fruit. It is better to imitate the bee than [Sidenote: F] the -garland-maker. The latter looks for the bright-coloured fragrant petals, -and, by twining and plaiting them together, produces an object which is -pleasant enough, but short-lived and fruitless. Bees, on the contrary, -frequently skim through meadows of violets, roses, or hyacinths, to -settle upon the coarsest and bitterest thyme. To this they devote -themselves - - _Contriving yellow honey_, - -and then fly home to their proper business with something worth the -getting. So a student who takes his work in real earnest will pay no -regard to dainty flowery words nor to showy [Sidenote: 42] theatrical -matter. These he will consider as fodder for drones who play the -sophist. For his own part he will probe with keen attention into the -sense of a speech and the quality of the speaker. Therefrom he will suck -such part as will be of service and profit. He will remember that he has -not come to a theatre or concert-hall, but to a classroom in the -schools, and that his object is to get his life corrected by means of -reason. Hence he should form a critical judgement of the lecture from -his own case, that is to say, from a calculation of its effect upon -himself. Has it been the chastening of a passion, the lightening -[Sidenote: B] of a grief? Has it been courage, firmness of spirit, -enthusiasm for excellence and virtue? Upon rising from the barber’s -chair he will stand at the glass and put his hands to his head, -inspecting the trim and arrangement of the hair. No less should he, -immediately on leaving a lecture in the philosophic school, look at -himself and examine his own mind, to see if it has got rid of any -useless and uncomfortable growth and become lighter and more at ease. -‘There is no use’, says Aristo, ‘in either a bath or a speech, unless it -cleanses.’ - -[Sidenote: C] By all means let a young man, while profiting from a -discourse, find pleasure in the process. But he must not treat the -pleasure of the lecture as its end, nor expect to come out of the -philosopher’s school with a beaming face and humming a tune. He must not -ask for scented unguents when what he needs is a lotion or a poultice. -On the contrary, he should be grateful if a pungent argument acts upon -his mind like smoke upon a hive, and clears out all the darkness and -mistiness that fill it. Though it is quite right for a speaker not to be -altogether without concern for an attractive and persuasive style of -language, that should be a matter least regarded by the young student, -at any rate in the first instance. Later, no doubt, the case may be -[Sidenote: D] different. It is when they are no longer thirsty that -persons engaged in drinking will turn a cup about and inspect the -chasing upon it. Similarly during a breathing-time, after taking our -fill of the lesson, we may be permitted to examine any uncommon elegance -in the language. But if from the very first, instead of taking a grip -upon the substance, you insist upon ‘good pure Attic’ expression, you -are like a person who refuses to take an antidote unless the vessel is -made of the best Attic earthenware; or who declines to put on a thick -cloak in winter unless the wool is from Attic sheep, preferring to sit, -stubborn and impracticable, in the thin napless mantle of the ‘style of -Lysias’. Perversities of this kind are responsible for a plentiful -[Sidenote: E] lack of good sense and an abundance of loquacious claptrap -in the schools. Young fellows keep no watch upon the life, the practical -action, or the public services of a philosopher, but make a great merit -of diction, phrase, and fine method of statement, while they possess -neither the ability nor the desire to find out whether the statement is -valuable or worthless, whether it is vital or a mere futility. - -The next rule concerns the propounding of difficulties. A guest at a -dinner is bound to accept what is put upon the [Sidenote: F] table, and -neither to ask for anything else nor to find fault. When the feast -consists of a discourse, any one who comes to it should listen and say -nothing, if there is an understanding to that effect. Persons who cannot -listen in a pleasant and sociable manner, but keep drawing the speaker -off to other topics, interposing questions and mooting side-issues, get -no benefit themselves and confuse both the speaker and the speech. When, -however, he invites the audience to ask questions and advance -difficulties, any that are proposed should prove to be useful and -important. Odysseus, when in the suitors’ company, incurs ridicule -through - - _Begging for morsels and scraps, and not for a sword or a cauldron._ - -[Sidenote: 43] regard it as a sign of lofty-mindedness not only to give, -but to ask for, something of value. It is, however, more a case for -ridicule when a hearer poses a speaker with petty little problems of the -kind often propounded by young men, when they are talking claptrap in -order to make a show of attainments in logic or mathematics—for example, -concerning ‘division of the indeterminate’ and the nature of ‘lateral’ -or ‘diagonal’ [Sidenote: B] motion. The proper answer to such persons is -the remark of Philotimus to a man who was suffering with abscesses and -consumption, but who had been talking to him for some time about -requiring ‘some little thing to cure a whitlow’. Perceiving the man’s -condition from his complexion and breathing, Philotimus observed: ‘My -good sir, a whitlow is not the question with you.’ Nor in your case, -young sir, is it worth while to be discussing such questions as yours, -but how you are to get rid of conceit, swaggering about love-affairs, -and such-like nonsense, and how you are to plant your feet on the way to -a healthy and sober-minded life. - -Especially are you bound, in putting your questions, to accommodate -yourself to a speaker’s range of knowledge or natural [Sidenote: C] -ability—to his special _forte_. A philosopher who is more concerned with -ethics should not be attacked with difficulties in natural science or -mathematics, nor should one who prides himself upon his scientific -knowledge be dragged into determining hypothetical syllogisms or solving -fallacies. If you attempted to chop your wood with the key and to open -your door with the axe, it would not be thought that you were making -sport of these implements, but that you were depriving yourself of their -respective powers and uses. In the same way, if you ask of a speaker a -thing for which he has no gift or training, while you make no harvest of -what he possesses and offers, [Sidenote: D] you not only do yourself -harm to that extent, but you incur condemnation for malicious -ill-nature. - -Be careful also not to propound difficulties yourself in too great -numbers or too frequently. This is, in a sense, another way of showing -off. Meanwhile, to listen equably when some one else is mooting them, -shows that you are a clubbable person and a student. This is assuming -you have no harassing and urgent trouble of your own, no mental -disturbance to be controlled or malady to be comforted. It may not, -after all, be (as Heracleitus says) ‘better to conceal ignorance’, but -to bring it into the open and cure it. If your mind is upset by a fit of -anger, an attack of superstition, a violent quarrel with your friends, -or a mad amorous passion which - - _Stirreth the heart-strings that should rest unstirred_, - -[Sidenote: E] you must not run away from a discourse which searches it -home, and fly to others of a different nature. On the contrary, these -are the very topics to which you should listen, both at lectures and -also by privately approaching the lecturer afterwards and asking for -further light. - -The opposite course is the one too generally followed. So long as the -philosopher is dealing with other persons, his hearers are all delight -and admiration. But when he leaves those others alone and frankly -administers some important reminder to themselves personally, they are -disgusted with him for not minding his own business. Generally speaking, -they think [Sidenote: F] a philosopher is entitled to a hearing inside -his school, as the tragedian is in the theatre; but in matters beyond it -they do not consider him in any way superior to themselves. Towards a -sophist their attitude is natural enough; for when he rises from his -chair, lays aside his books and his introductory manuals, and makes his -appearance in the practical departments of life, he ranks in the popular -mind as an unimportant and inferior person. But towards a philosopher in -the real sense their attitude is wrong. They do not recognize that a -tone of earnestness or jest, a sign of approval or disapproval, a smile -or a frown, [Sidenote: 44] on his part—and, above all, his direct -handling of their individual cases—are fruitful in good to those who -have learned the art of listening with submission. - -Applause, again, has its duties, which call for a certain caution and -moderation. A gentleman bestows neither too little nor too much of it. A -hearer shows churlishly bad taste when nothing whatever in a lecture -will make him thaw or unbend; when he is diseased with festering conceit -and chronic self-complacency, and is all the time thinking he could -improve upon the deliverance; when he neither makes any appropriate -movement of the brow nor utters any sound to prove that he is [Sidenote: -B] a considerate and willing listener; when he is seeking a reputation -for solidity and depth by means of silence, an affected gravity, and -attitudes of pose, under the notion that applause is like money, and -that whatever amount you give to another you take from yourself. The -fact is that there are many who take up the well-known saying of -Pythagoras and sing it to a false tune. His own gain from philosophy, he -said, was to ‘_wonder at [Sidenote: *] nothing_‘; whereas theirs is to -‘praise nothing’ or to ‘honour nothing’. With them wisdom lies in -contempt, and the way to be dignified is to be disdainful. While, by -means of knowledge [Sidenote: C] and the ascertainment of the cause in a -given case, philosophic reason does away with the wonder and awe due to -unenlightenment and ignorance, it does not destroy a generous -appreciation. Those whose excellence is genuine and firmly seated find -it the highest honour to bestow honour, the highest distinction to -bestow distinction, where honour and distinction are due. Such conduct -implies that they have fame enough and to spare, and are free from -jealousy, whereas those who are niggards of praise to others are in all -probability pinched and hungry for praise of their own. - -On the other hand, the opposite type of hearer is the fluttering -feather-head who uses no discrimination, but punctuates with loud cheers -at every word and syllable. While he is frequently obnoxious to the -disputant himself, he is invariably a nuisance [Sidenote: D] to the -hearers. He worries them on to their feet against their judgement, and -drags them willy-nilly to join in the chorus because they are ashamed to -refuse. Thanks to his applause deranging the lecture and making an -imbroglio of it, he gets no good from it, but goes home with one of -three descriptions to his credit—fleerer, sycophant, or ignoramus. - -It is true that, when hearing a case in court, we must lean [Sidenote: -E] neither towards hostility nor towards favour, but towards justice as -we best understand it. But at a lecture on a subject of learning there -is neither law nor oath to debar us from granting the speaker an -indulgent reception. The reason why the ancients placed the statue of -Hermes in the company of the Graces was that speaking has a special -claim to a gracious friendliness. It is impossible for any one to be so -complete a failure or so utterly astray as to offer us nothing deserving -of a cheer, in the shape of a thought, a reference to others, the mere -choice of theme or purpose, or, possibly, in the wording or arrangement -of the matter, - - _As among urchin-foot or mid coarse broom - The tender snowflake springeth into bloom._ - -[Sidenote: F] There are persons who, for exhibition purposes, can lend a -fair measure of plausibility to a panegyric upon vomiting or fever, or -even a pot; and surely a deliverance by a man who has some sort of claim -to be thought, or to call himself, a philosopher cannot absolutely fail -to afford a well-disposed or courteous audience some opportunity of -finding relief in applause. - -According to Plato young persons in the bloom of life can always manage -somehow to excite a lover’s passion. If they are white he calls them -‘saint-like’; if swarthy, ‘virile’. [Sidenote: 45] A hook-nose is -‘regal’, a snub nose ‘piquant’; a sallow skin is a ‘complexion of -honey’. He uses these pretty names, and is pleased and satisfied. Love -has, indeed, an ivy-like gift for clinging to any pretext. Much less -will an eager and earnest student of letters ever fail in inventiveness. -In every speaker he will discover some grounds for reasonable applause. -In the speech of Lysias, though Plato objects to its want of -arrangement, and though he has no praise for its inventiveness, he -nevertheless commends him for his manner of statement, and because there -is ‘a clear round finish in the chiselling of every word’. [Sidenote: B] -We might find fault with Archilochus for his subject-matter, Parmenides -for his versification, Phocylides for his commonplaceness, Euripides for -his garrulity, Sophocles for his inequality. Similarly one of the -orators has no characterization, another exerts no passion, a third is -lacking in grace and charm. Nevertheless each wins praise for a power to -move and sway us in his own peculiar way. - -The hearer, then, has ample scope for showing good feeling to a speaker. -In some instances it is sufficient if, without further declaration by -word of mouth, we contribute a kindly eye, a genial expression, a -friendly and agreeable mood. There are certain things for which even the -man who is a total failure may [Sidenote: C] look, and which are but -ordinary items of common etiquette for any and every audience. I mean an -upright posture in our chairs, with no lolling or lounging; eyes kept -directly upon the speaker; an air of businesslike attention; composure -of countenance, with no sign, I need not say of insolence or -peevishness, but of being taken up with other thoughts. - -If in every exacting task beauty is made up of a number of factors -happily combined in a due proportion and harmony, ugliness is the prompt -and immediate outcome of the faulty [Sidenote: D] omission or addition -of this or that one element. And in this particular matter of listening, -not only is there impropriety in a scowling brow, a disagreeable -expression, a roving glance, a twisting of the body, and a crossing of -the legs; but nodding or whispering to a neighbour, smiling, yawning -sleepily, looking at the ground, and actions of a similar nature, are -censurable and should be studiously avoided. - -There are some who think that, though the speaker has a duty, the hearer -has none. They expect the former to present himself with his thoughts -studiously prepared; yet, without a thought or care for their own -obligations, they drop casually in and take their seats, for all the -world as if they had come to a dinner to enjoy themselves while others -are doing the work. Yet even a polite table-companion has his part to -play, much [Sidenote: E] more a polite hearer. He is a partner in the -speech and a coadjutor of the speaker; and he has no right to be sharply -criticizing the mistakes, and taking every phrase and fact to task, -while himself free from responsibility for the impropriety and the -frequent solecisms which he commits as a hearer. In ball-play the -catcher has to regulate his movements according to those of the thrower. -So, in the case of a speech, there is a certain consonance of action in -which both speaker and listener are concerned, if each is to sustain his -proper part. [Sidenote: F] - -Our expressions in applauding must not, however, be used without -discrimination. It is an unpleasing phrase of Epicurus when, in speaking -of the little epistles from his friends, he says, ‘We give them a -rattling clapping.’ But what of those who nowadays introduce such -_outré_ expressions into our lecture-rooms? The _Capital!_ _Well said!_ -and _Very true!_ which were the terms of commendation used by the -hearers of Plato, Socrates, and Hypereides, are not enough for these -persons. With their exclamations _Divine!_ _An inspiration!_ or -_Unapproachable!_ they commit a gross impropriety, libellously making -out that the speaker requires far-fetched eulogies of an [Sidenote: 46] -outrageous kind. Highly obnoxious also are those who accompany their -attestations with an oath, as if they were in a court of law. And -equally so those who blunder in their descriptive terms; for instance, -when the lecturer is a philosopher and they call out, _A shrewd hit!_, -or an old man and they exclaim _Cleverly put!_ or _Brilliant!_, thus -misapplying to a philosopher the expressions used at academic exercises, -where the speaking is not serious but merely an exhibition of -adroitness. To offer [Sidenote: B] to a sober discourse such -meretricious praise is like crowning an athlete with a wreath of lilies -or roses instead of laurel or wild olive. Once when the poet Euripides -was going over a song [Sidenote: *] with an original setting for the -benefit of the members of his chorus, and one of them happened to laugh, -he observed: ‘If you had not been an ignorant dolt, you could not have -laughed while I was teaching you a mixolydian[46] piece.’ So, I take it, -a serious and practical philosopher might very well make short work of -the airs and affectations of a hearer by saying, ‘I presume your case is -one of foolishness or ill breeding; otherwise you would not have been -piping out and jigging about at my remarks, when I was teaching, or -admonishing, or arguing concerning religion, statesmanship, or the -duties of [Sidenote: C] office.’ Just frankly consider what it means, -when a philosopher is speaking, and the shouting and hurrahing inside -the building make people outside wonder whether it is a flute-player, a -harpist, or a dancer who is being applauded. - -Meanwhile, in listening to admonition and reproof, the pupil must be -neither insensible nor unmanly. There are some who bear the -philosopher’s reproaches with an easy-going indifference, laughing under -the correction and applauding the corrector, just as parasites applaud -in sheer impudence and recklessness when they are abused by those who -keep them. The shamelessness which such persons display is no proper or -genuine proof of courage. When a jibe containing no insult, and uttered -in [Sidenote: D] a playful and tactful way, is borne cheerfully and -without annoyance, it shows neither a want of spirit nor a want of -breeding. On the contrary, it is exactly what a gentleman of the true -Spartan style would do. But it is different when admonition takes in -hand the correction of character by means of a stinging remedy in the -shape of rational reproof. If a young man does not cower under the -lesson and feel his soul burning with shame, till he breaks into a sweat -and is ready to faint; if, on the contrary, he is unperturbed, gives a -broad grin of self-depreciation, and refuses to take the matter -seriously, then he is an extremely vulgar creature beyond all sense of -shame, a constant habituation to misconduct having made his soul no more -capable of a bruise than a thick callus in the flesh. - -These form the one class. Youths of the opposite disposition, [Sidenote: -E] if a single hard word is said to them, turn deserters from philosophy -and run away without a glance behind them. While nature has given them, -in the shape of modesty, an excellent start towards moral salvation, -they are so squeamish and timid that they throw their chance away. -Unable to put up with reproof or to accept correction with spirit, they -turn away to listen to the soft and agreeable utterances of some -time-server or sophist, who charms them with melodious phrases as -useless and futile as they are pleasing. If a man runs away from the -surgeon after the operation and objects to be bandaged, he is submitting -to the pain of the treatment but refusing to put up with its benefit. So -when a lesson has lanced and probed his [Sidenote: F] folly, if he will -not permit it to close and dress the wound, he is abandoning philosophy -after feeling the sting and the pain but before deriving any advantage -therefrom. - -Euripides says that the wound of Telephus was - - _Soothed by the filings ground from the same spear._ - -It is no less true that the sting implanted by philosophy in [Sidenote: -47] a youth of parts is cured by the same reasoning that caused the -wound. While, therefore, it is right that the subject of reproof should -feel some pain from the sting, he must not be crushed or dispirited, -but, after undergoing the first discomposing rites of purification, he -should look for some sweet and splendid revelation to follow the -distress and confusion of the moment. For though the reproof may appear -to be unjust, the proper course is to endure it with all patience until -the speaker concludes. Then he may be met by a plea in self-defence, and -by [Sidenote: B] a request to reserve for some real fault all the -vigorous candour which he has shown in the present instance. - -To proceed to the next consideration. In reading and writing, playing -the lyre, or wrestling, the first lessons are very harassing, laborious, -and unsure; but, as we advance step by step, it is much as in dealing -with mankind. By dint of frequent and familiar acquaintance we find that -it all becomes pleasant and manageable, and every word or action easy. -It is the same with philosophy. No doubt the language and matter, as -first met with, contain something both hard and strange. But we must not -take fright at the rudiments and prove so timid and spiritless -[Sidenote: C] as to abandon the study. On the contrary, our duty is to -grapple with every question, to persevere, to be resolved on making -progress, and then to wait for that familiarity which converts all right -action into a pleasure. It will not be long before it arrives, casting -upon the study a flood of light, and inspiring an ardent passion for -excellence. To be without such passion and to put up with the ordinary -type of life because one is driven from philosophy by a lack of mettle, -is to be a miserable or cowardly creature. - -We may also expect that at first the argumentation will prove somewhat -difficult for young and inexperienced students to understand. For the -most part, however, the obscurity and want of comprehension are due to -themselves. Opposite dispositions [Sidenote: D] lead to the same -mistake. Thus one class, through bashfulness and a desire to spare the -teacher, will shrink from putting questions and making sure of the -argument, and will ostensibly assent as if they quite understood. The -others, led by misplaced ambition and meaningless rivalry to make a show -of cleverness and quickness, pretend to have mastered a thing before -they take it in, and so will not take it in at all. The consequence is -that when the former—the modest and silent kind—go home, they will worry -themselves with their perplexities, and in the end they will be driven -perforce to trouble the speaker by harking back with their questions at -a later date, when they will feel still more ashamed. Meanwhile the bold -and ambitious kind will be perpetually cloaking their ignorance and -hiding the fact that it haunts them. - -Let us then thrust aside all this pretentious silliness, and march -[Sidenote: E] on towards learning. Let our business be to get an -intelligent grasp upon valuable instruction. And let us put up with the -laughter of those who are thought to be clever. Remember how Cleanthes -and Xenocrates, though to all appearance slower than their -fellow-pupils, refused to give up or run away from their studies. On the -contrary, they were the first to joke at their own expense, comparing -themselves to a narrow-necked bottle or a brass tablet, inasmuch as, -though slow at taking their instruction in, they were safe and sure at -retaining it. Not only must we, as Phocylides puts it, - - _Oft-times be baulked of our hope while seeking to come unto - goodness_; - -we must also ‘oft-times’ be laughed at, and bear with scoffing -[Sidenote: F] and jeering, meanwhile putting all our heart and energy -into winning the struggle against our ignorance. - -We must, however, be quite as careful not to err in the opposite -direction. Some do so from sloth, which makes them a wearisome -infliction. Unwilling to trouble themselves when [Sidenote: 48] alone, -they keep troubling the teacher by repeatedly asking for information on -the same questions. Like unfledged birds in the nest, they are -perpetually agape to be fed from another’s mouth, and expect to receive -everything ready masticated by someone else. - -Another kind, in the misplaced quest of a reputation for alertness and -acumen, worry the lecturer with their fussy garrulity, perpetually -mooting some unimportant difficulty or demanding some unnecessary -demonstration, - - _Till a short journey so becometh long_ - -[Sidenote: B] —as Sophocles says—not only to themselves but to every one -else. By continually arresting the teacher with superfluous and futile -questions, as if they were merely chatting with a companion, they -interfere with the continuity of the lesson by a series of checks and -delays. Persons of this class are (to quote Hieronymus) like wretched -cowardly puppies, who bite the skins and tear the odds and ends of wild -animals at home, but who never touch the animals themselves. - -As for the former and lazy class, let us give them this advice. When -they have managed to comprehend the main points, let them piece the rest -together for themselves, using their [Sidenote: C] memory as a guide to -independent thought. And let them take the reasoning they hear from -another as a beginning—a seed which they are to make grow and thrive. - -The mind is not a vessel which calls for filling. It is a pile, which -simply requires kindling-wood to start the flame of eagerness for -original thought and ardour for truth. Suppose someone goes to borrow -from his neighbour’s fire, and then, on finding a large bright blaze, -persists in staying and basking on the spot. It is the same when a man -comes to another to borrow reason, and does not realize that he must -kindle a light of his own in the shape of thinking for himself, but sits -enchanted with enjoyment of the lecture. He derives from the lesson -[Sidenote: D] a ruddy glow or outward brilliance, but he fails to drive -out the mould and darkness from within by the warming power of -philosophy. - -If therefore any advice is needed for the hearing of lectures, it is to -remember the rule just given—to practise independent thought along with -learning. We shall thus attain, not to the ability of a sophist or the -‘well-informed’ man, but to a deep-seated philosophic power. Right -listening will be for us the introduction to right living. - -Footnote 44: - - The _paedagogus_, an attendant slave, who accompanied the boy and - watched over his conduct. - -Footnote 45: - - In his _Phaedrus_. - -Footnote 46: - - i. e. in the mixolydian mode, which was of a sad and dirgelike - character. - - - - - ON MORAL IGNORANCE IN HIGH PLACES - - -[Sidenote: 779 D] When Plato was invited by the Cyrenaeans to draw up a -code of laws for their use and to organize their constitution, he begged -to be excused, on the ground that it was difficult to legislate for so -prosperous a people: - - _For nought so arrogant_— - -nor so impracticable and headstrong— - - _as human kind_, - -when prosperity—or what is so considered—lies within its grasp. - -[Sidenote: E] No less difficult is the task of advising a ruler how to -rule. To admit reason, he fears, is to admit a ruler, whose law of duty -will make a slave of him and curtail the advantage he derives from -power. He has yet to learn a lesson from Theopompus, the Spartan king, -who was the first to modify the powers of the throne by means of that of -the Ephors. When his wife reproached him for proposing to leave to his -children less authority than he had inherited, he replied: ‘Nay, -greater, because more assured.’ By relaxing its excessive absolutism he -escaped the [Sidenote: F] consequent ill-feeling, and therewith its -dangers. But note. Theopompus, in diverting into other channels a -portion of the full stream of power, deprived himself of just so much as -he gave away. But when philosophic reason becomes the established -colleague and protector of a ruler, it merely removes the perilous -element and leaves the healthy—a process as necessary to power as to -sound health. - -In most cases, however, monarchs or rulers show as little wisdom as a -tasteless sculptor, who fancies that to represent a figure with a huge -stride, strained muscles, and gaping mouth, is to make it appear massive -and imposing. They imagine that [Sidenote: 780] an arrogant tone, harsh -looks, short temper, and exclusiveness give them the true regal air of -awe and majesty. In reality they are not a bit better than a colossal -statue with the outward shape and form of a god or demigod, while the -inside is a mass of earth, stone, or lead. Indeed, in the case of the -statue, these heavy materials serve to keep it erect and prevent it from -warping; whereas, with an unschooled governor or chief, the unreason -within is often the cause of instability and collapse. [Sidenote: B] His -foundation being out of plumb, the lofty power which he builds upon it -is correspondingly unstable. Now it is only when the builder’s square is -itself faultless in line and angle, that it can make other things true -to line by adjustment to, and comparison with, itself. So a ruler must -begin by acquiring rule within himself. Let him set his own soul -straight, and make his own character firm, and then begin adjusting his -subjects thereto. You cannot set upright, when you are falling; teach, -when you are ignorant; discipline, when unruly; command, when -disobedient; govern, when ungoverned. And yet it is a common error to -suppose that the chief blessing of authority [Sidenote: C] is to be -above authority. To the King of Persia every one was a slave except his -own wife, the very person whose master he ought to have been. - -By whom, then, is the ruler to be ruled? By the - - _Law, - Sovereign of mortals and immortals all_, - -as Pindar says; not a law written outwardly in books or on wooden -tables, but a living law of reason in himself, abiding with him, -watching him, and never leaving his soul destitute of guidance. The King -of Persia kept one chamberlain whose special function was to enter in -the morning and say to him: ‘Rise, Sire, and attend to matters which -Great Oromazdes [Sidenote: D] meant for your concern.’ The ruler who has -learned wisdom and self-control hears the same voice of exhortation from -within. It was a saying of Polemo that love is ‘_serving the Gods in the -care and protection of the young_‘. With more truth it might be said -that a ruler serves God in the care and protection of men, by -dispensing, or safeguarding, the blessings which God gives to mankind. - - _See’st thou yon boundless sky and air aloft, - How in soft arms it clasps the world about?_ - -From it descend the first principles of seeds in due kind; earth brings -them forth; their growth is fostered by rains or winds or the warmth of -moon and stars; while the sun brings everything [Sidenote: E] to beauty -and tinctures all creation with that peculiar love-spell which is his. -But though the Gods may lavish these great boons and blessings, who can -enjoy or use them rightly, if there be no law, justice, or ruler? -Justice is the end of law; law is the work of the ruler; and a ruler is -an image of the God who orders all things. He needs no Pheidias or -Polycleitus or Myro to fashion him, but brings himself into likeness -with deity [Sidenote: F] by means of virtue, and so creates the fairest -and most divine of effigies. In the heavens the sun and moon were set by -God as His own beauteous image; and, in a state, the same shining -embodiment is to be found in the ruler - - _Godfearing, who justice upholdeth_, - -—that is to say, when he holds, not a sceptre, but a mind which is the -reason of God; not when he holds the thunderbolt or trident with which -some represent themselves in statue or picture, rendering their folly -odious to Heaven by such impossible assertion. For God visits with -righteous wrath him who makes pretence of thunder or thunderbolt or -darting sun-ray; but when a man studies to emulate His goodness, and to -take [Sidenote: 781] a pattern by His virtue and benevolence, He -delights in furthering him and bestowing a portion of His own -righteousness, justice, truth, and mercy. Not fire or light, not the -course of the sun, the risings and settings of the stars, -everlastingness and immortality, are more divine that these attributes. -For it is not by reason of length of life that God is happy, but by -reason of the virtue which rules. This is ‘divine’. ‘Noble’, however, is -the virtue whose part it is only to obey. - -When Alexander was in sore distress at killing Cleitus, Anaxarchus told -him, by way of comfort, that Right and Justice were [Sidenote: B] but -the ‘assessors’ of Zeus—making out that any act was right and lawful for -a king. A false and pernicious salve for his repentance at his sin, this -encouragement to repeat it! If we are to use such figures of speech, -Right is no ‘assessor’ of Zeus, but He himself is Right and Justice, the -oldest and most consummate Law. What the ancients tell and write and -teach is that, without Justice, not even Zeus can properly rule. -According to Hesiod - - _A virgin is she_, - -the incorruptible partner of feeling, self-control, and beneficence. -[Sidenote: C] Hence are kings called ‘merciful’, for mercy best becomes -those who are least afraid. A ruler’s fear should be of doing harm -rather than of suffering it; for the former action is the cause of the -latter, and this kind of fear on the part of a ruler is creditable to -humanity. There is nothing ignoble in a fear for his subjects and of -possible injury to them. Such rulers are like - - _Dogs that keep ward o’er the sheep in the farmstead, anxiously - watching - At sound of a fierce wild beast_— - -their anxiety being not for themselves, but for their charges. - -Once when the Thebans had recklessly abandoned themselves [Sidenote: D] -to feasting and carousal, Epaminondas went the round of the walls and -the military posts all by himself, remarking that he was keeping sober -and wakeful so that the rest might be drunk and asleep. When Cato, after -the defeat at Utica, gave orders that every one else should be sent to -sea, saw them on board, prayed that they might have a prosperous voyage, -and then went back home and stabbed himself, it was a lesson on the -text, ‘For whose sake should a ruler feel fear, and for what should he -feel contempt?’ On the other hand, Clearchus, despot of Pontus, used at -bedtime to crawl like a snake into a chest. [Sidenote: E] Similarly, -Aristodemus of Argos crept into an upper room entered by a trap-door. -Over this he would put the couch upon which he passed the night with his -mistress. Meanwhile her mother dragged away the ladder from below, -bringing it back and putting it in place in the morning. How, think you, -must he have shuddered at the theatre, at the Government offices, at the -Senate-House, at the banquet, when he turned his own bedchamber into a -prison? Yes, kings are afraid _for_ their subjects, despots are afraid -_of_ them. It follows that, as they add to their power, they add to -their alarms; the more people they rule, the more people they fear. - -[Sidenote: F] It is an improbable and unworthy view to hold of God—as -some philosophers do—that He exists as an element in matter to which all -sorts of things may happen, and in entities which are subject to -innumerable accidents, chances and changes. In reality He is stablished -somewhere aloft ‘_on holy pedestal_’ (as Plato puts it) in the realm of -nature uniform and constant, and there ‘_moves according to Nature in a -straight line towards the accomplishment of His end_‘. And as in heaven -the sun, His beauteous counterfeit, shows itself as His reflection in a -mirror to those who have the power to see Him through it, so, in the -justice and reason which shine in a state, He sets up a likeness of that -which is in Himself, and, by copying that likeness, men [Sidenote: 782] -whom philosophy has gifted and chastened model themselves after the -highest pattern. - -This condition of mind nothing can implant except reason acquired from -philosophy. Otherwise we are in the position of Alexander, when he went -to see Diogenes at Corinth. In delight at his talent, and in admiration -of his proud and lofty spirit, he exclaimed: ‘If I had not been -Alexander, I would have been Diogenes.’ And what did this virtually -mean? That he was vexed at his own high fortune, splendour, and -[Sidenote: B] power, because they were an obstacle to the virtue for -which he could find no time, and that he envied the cloak and the -wallet, which made Diogenes as invincible and unassailable as he himself -was made by armour and horses and spears. And yet by the practice of -philosophy he might have secured the moral character of a Diogenes while -retaining the position of an Alexander. Nay, he should have become all -the more a Diogenes for being an Alexander, since his high fortune, so -liable to be tossed by stormy winds, required ample ballast and a master -hand at the helm. - -In the case of private men without strength or standing, folly is so -qualified by impotence that in the end no mischief is done. It is as -with a bad dream, in which, though the mind is excited with passion, no -harm results, inasmuch as it is unable to rise and act in accordance -with the desires. When, on the other [Sidenote: C] hand, vice is adopted -by power, the passions acquire sinew and strength. Dionysius spoke truly -when he said that the highest advantage of power was to give speedy -effect to a wish. A most parlous thing, if you can give effect to a -wish, and yet wish what is wrong! - - _No sooner the word had been utter’d, than straightway the deed was - accomplish’d._ - -Vice, when enabled by power to run rapid course, forces every passion -into action, converting anger into murder, love into adultery, greed -into confiscation. - - _No sooner the word hath been utter’d_, - -than your opponent has met his doom. No sooner a suspicion, than the -victim of slander is a dead man. - -[Sidenote: D] Scientists tell us that, whereas lightning really follows -and issues from thunder like blood from a wound, it is perceived first -because, while the hearing waits for the sound, the vision goes out to -meet the light. So with rulers. The punishment outstrips the charge; the -condemnation does not wait for the proof. - - _For forthwith anger slips and loses hold, - Like anchor’s tooth in sand when seas swell high_, - -unless reason with all its weight puts a heavy drag on power; unless, -that is, the ruler acts like the sun, whose motion is least [Sidenote: -E] when its height is greatest, namely, at the time of its northern -altitude, its course being steadied by the diminished speed. - -Vice in high places cannot be hid. When an epileptic is placed upon a -height and made to turn round, he is seized with giddiness and begins to -totter, his malady being betrayed thereby. So with an unschooled and -ignorant person. After a brief uplifting by wealth or fame or place, the -same fortune which raised him up immediately reveals how ready he is to -fall. To put it another way; when a vessel is empty, you cannot detect -the crack or flaw, but when you begin to fill it, the leak appears. -[Sidenote: F] So with a mind which is too unsound to hold power and -authority; its leaks are to be seen in its exhibitions of lust, anger, -pretentiousness, and ignorance. Yet why speak of this, when holes are -picked in eminent and distinguished men for the merest peccadilloes? -Cimon was reproached for his addiction to wine, Scipio for his addiction -to sleep, and Lucullus for his extravagance at table[47].... - -Footnote 47: - - The rest of the essay is missing. - - - - - FAWNER AND FRIEND - (WITH AN EXCURSUS ON CANDOUR) - - -MY DEAR ANTIOCHUS PHILOPAPPUS, [Sidenote: 48 E] - -‘Every one,’ says Plato, ‘will pardon a man for admitting that he has a -strong affection for himself,’ but—not to mention [Sidenote: F] numerous -other defects to which he is subject—there is one chief weakness which -precludes him from giving a just and incorruptible verdict in his own -case. ‘The lover is blind where the beloved object is concerned,’ unless -he has learned the habit of prizing things, not because they are his own -or related to himself, but because they are beautiful. Hence, there is -ample opportunity for the flatterer to obtain a place among our friends. -He delivers his attack from an excellent point of vantage in the shape -of that self-love which makes every man his own [Sidenote: 49] first and -greatest flatterer, ready and willing to welcome such external testimony -as will endorse his own conceits and desires. For the man who is -reprobated as a lover of toadies is an ardent lover of himself. Out of -fondness for himself he not only entertains the wish to possess, but -also the conceit that he possesses, all manner of qualities; and though -the desire may be natural enough, the conceit is fallacious and calls -for the greatest watchfulness. - -And if truth is divine, and—as Plato asserts—the first principle -[Sidenote: B] of ‘all good things both with Gods and men’, the toady -must be an enemy of the Gods, and especially of the Pythian. For, in -perpetual antagonism to the doctrine of _Know Thyself_, he produces -self-deception in a man, self-ignorance, and error as to his virtues and -vices. The virtues he renders defective and abortive; the vices he -renders incorrigible. - -Now if the flatterer had been like most other mischievous things, and -had solely or chiefly attacked mean and petty victims, the harm would -have been neither so great nor so difficult to prevent. But it is into -soft and sweet kinds of wood that worms prefer to bore, and it is -estimable and capable characters—characters with a love of -approbation—that give access and supply nourishment to the flatterer who -fastens upon [Sidenote: C] them. ‘_The breeding of the steed_,’ says -Simonides, ‘_sorts not with Zacynthus,[48] but with wheat-bearing -plains_.’ Similarly we do not find toadyism in attendance upon the poor, -the insignificant, or the uninfluential, but sapping and debilitating -great houses and great fortunes, and frequently subverting rulers and -thrones. Consequently no slight effort or common precaution is required -in considering how it can be most readily detected and so prevented from -doing injury and discredit to friendship. - -[Sidenote: D] Vermin quit a dying man and desert the body when the blood -which feeds them becomes exhausted. So with the time-server. You will -never find him approaching a person whose fortune is destitute of sap -and warmth. It is the famous and influential whom he attacks; it is out -of them that he makes capital; and when their circumstances change he -promptly beats a retreat. We should not, however, wait for that test; it -is then not merely useless but fraught with injury and danger. It is a -grievous thing to find out who is not your friend only at the moment -when a friend is needed, since the discovery does not enable you to -exchange the uncertain and counterfeit for the genuine and certain. You -should possess friends as you possess coin—tested [Sidenote: E] before -the occasion, not waiting to be proved by the occasion. Discovery should -not come through injury, but injury should be prevented by our acquiring -a scientific insight into the nature of the toady. Otherwise we shall be -in the position of those who distinguish a deadly poison by tasting it; -we shall meet our death in the effort of judging. - -One can neither approve of such a course, nor yet of those who, because -they regard a ‘friend’ as implying a high and wholesome influence, -imagine that an agreeable associate is immediately and manifestly proved -to be a time-server. For there is nothing disagreeable or -uncompromisingly severe about a friend, nor does the high respect we pay -to friendship depend upon harshness or austerity. Nay, its high -influence and claim to respect are actually an agreeable and desirable -thing in themselves, [Sidenote: F] - - _And close at its side do the Graces and Longing Desire set their - dwellings._ - -Not only may the unfortunate man say, with Euripides, - - _’Tis sweet to look into a friend’s fond eyes_, - -but friendship is a comrade who adds as much pleasure and gratification -to our blessings as it brings relief to the pains and perplexities of -our mishaps. According to Euenus ‘_the best of [Sidenote: 50] seasonings -is fire_‘. So, by making friendship an ingredient of life, God has -rendered all things bright and sweet and enjoyable through its presence -and participation. How, indeed, could the fawner have wormed himself -into our pleasures, if he had seen that friendship refuses all -admittance to what is pleasant? The thing is absurd. No; the toady is -like the mock-gilt and tinsel which merely mimic the sheen and lustre of -gold. It is in order to imitate the attractiveness and charm of a friend -that he makes a constant show of agreeableness and amiability, and never -opposes or contradicts you. It is therefore wrong, [Sidenote: B] when a -person praises you, to suspect at once that he is simply a flatterer. -Friendship is quite as much called upon to praise in season as it is to -blame. In fact, perpetual peevishness and fault-finding is the negation -of friendship and sociability; whereas, when affection bestows zealous -and ungrudging praise upon our good deeds, we also submit readily and -cheerfully to its candid remonstrances, being satisfied with the belief -that the man who is glad to praise will only blame because he must. - -[Sidenote: C] ‘It is a hard matter then,’ we may be told, ‘to -distinguish between flatterer and friend, if they are equally pleasant -and equally laudatory, especially when we find that toadyism is often -more than a match for friendship in the tendering of services.’ -Naturally so, we reply, if the object of our search is the genuine -toady, with a past-master’s skill at the business; if, that is, we do -not adopt the common view and mean by ‘toady’ your poverty-stricken -trencherman, who ‘begins’—as some one has said—‘to declare himself with -the first course,’ and whose lickspittle character betrays itself by -gross and vulgar [Sidenote: D] buffoonery at the first dish and the -first glass. It needed no test to expose Melanthius, the parasite of -Pherae. It was enough that, when asked ‘how Alexander was stabbed,’ he -replied, ‘Through the ribs, into my belly.’ Nor is there any such need -with those who besiege ‘an opulent table’, and whom - - _Not fire, nor steel, nor bronze can keep_ - -from making their way to a dinner. Nor yet with those female toadies of -Cyprus, who, after their transference to Syria, were [Sidenote: E] -called ‘pair o’ steps’ from the fact that they used to allow the king’s -wife to mount her carriage over their bent backs. - -Against whom, then, are we to be on our guard? Against the man who is -not confessedly or apparently a toady; one who is not to be found -hanging about the kitchen, nor to be caught watching the dial with a -dinner in prospect; one who is not to be made tipsy and then pitched -into any corner; but one who for the most part keeps sober and bustling, -thinking it his business to take part in all your doings, and to be -privy to your confidential talk—the man, in short, who acts the rôle of -friend, not in the satyric[49] or comic style, but in the high tragic. -According to Plato, ‘the extreme of dishonesty is to appear honest when -you are not.’ So with time-serving. It is [Sidenote: F] to be regarded -as dangerous, not when confessed, but when undetected; when it wears a -serious, not an amusing, air. In this form, unless we are careful, it -casts a slur of discredit even upon genuine friendship, the points of -coincidence being numerous. When the Mage was trying to escape and -Gobryes had plunged with him into a dark room and was grappling with -him, Darius stood at a loss what to do. ‘Stab,’ said Gobryes, ‘though -you stab both.’ With us it is not so easy, inasmuch as we can by no -means give any sanction to the maxim: ‘_Perish friend, if so perish -foe._’ There are so many points of similarity to complicate the fawner -with the friend that we must find it a most parlous business to tear the -one from the other. We may either be casting out the good thing along -with the bad, [Sidenote: 51] or, in trying to spare the right thing, we -may let the wrong one bring us to grief. There are wild plants of which -the seeds are similar in shape and size to those of wheat. When the two -are mixed it is difficult to sift these out; they will not fall through -smaller holes, and, if the holes are wider, one falls through as much as -the other. No less difficult is it to separate time-serving from -friendship, when it blends itself with every feeling, every movement, -need, and habit. - -Friendship being the most pleasant and delightful thing in the world, it -follows that the toady also uses pleasure for his [Sidenote: B] bait. To -give pleasure is his main concern. And since agreeableness and -usefulness are concomitants of friendship—whence the saying that ‘_a -friend is more indispensable than fire and water_‘—it follows that the -toady insists on rendering services, and is all eagerness to show -unfaltering promptitude and zeal. But the surest foundation of -friendship is similarity of pursuits and character. The foremost agent -in mutual attraction is similarity of temperament—the liking and -disliking of the same things. This the time-server perceives, and -therefore he adapts himself [Sidenote: C] like wax to the proper shape -and form, endeavouring by imitation to mould himself so as exactly to -fit his victim. His supple versatility, his genius for mimicry, is so -great that it is a case of - - _Thou art - Achilles’ self, and not Achilles’ son._ - -And note his craftiest device. He observes that candour is called (what -it appears to be) ‘the characteristic note of friendship’, while lack of -candour is the negation of friendship and spirit. He does not fail, -therefore, to imitate this quality also. As a skilful _chef_ will use -some bitter or piquant juice for a sauce in order to prevent sweets from -cloying, so with the candour [Sidenote: D] of the toady. It is not -genuine, nor is it useful; it is given, as it were, with a wink, and -serves simply as an excitant. The result is that he is as hard to detect -as one of those creatures which possess the natural power of altering -their colour so as to match the spot on which they happen to lie. Since, -therefore, it is under cover of resemblances that he deceives us, our -proper course is to find in the non-resemblances a means of stripping -off his disguise and showing that—as Plato puts it—he is ‘beautifying -himself with borrowed forms and colours through lack of any of his own’. - -Let us begin at the very beginning. In most instances, we remarked, -friendship commences with similarity of temperament [Sidenote: E] and -disposition, a taste for very much the same habits and principles, and a -delight in the same pursuits, occupations, and pastimes. Such a -similarity is implied in the lines: - - _Most welcome to the old is old men’s speech; - Child pleaseth child, and woman pleaseth woman, - Sick men the sick, and one who meets disaste - Brings solace to another suffering it._ - -The toady knows that it is natural to find pleasure in one’s like and to -be fond of his society. This, therefore, is his first device [Sidenote: -F] for approaching you and getting neighbours with you. He acts like -herdsmen on a pasture. He works gently up to you and rubs shoulders with -you in the same pursuits, amusements, tastes, and way of life, until you -give him his chance and let yourself grow tame and accustomed to his -touch. He condemns such circumstances, such conduct, and such persons as -he notices you dislike; while of those that please you he cannot say too -much in praise, exhibiting boundless delight and admiration [Sidenote: -52] for them. He thus confirms you in your loves and hatreds, as being -the results, not of feelings, but of judgement. - -How, then, is he to be exposed? By what points of difference are we to -prove that he is not, nor is on the way to be, our like, but only a -pretender thereto? In the first place we must look for consistency and -permanence in his principles. We must see whether he takes pleasure in, -and gives praise to, the same things at all times; whether he directs -and establishes his own life after one pattern, as a frank and free -lover of single-minded friendship and fellowship ought to do. A friend -does act in this manner. On the other hand, the time-server possesses no -one fixed hearthstone to his character. He does not live a life -[Sidenote: B] chosen for himself, but a life chosen for another. -Moulding and adapting himself to suit others, he possesses no singleness -or unity, but adopts all manner of varying shapes. Like water poured -from one vessel into another, he is perpetually flowing hither and -thither and accommodating himself to the form of the receptacle. - -The ape, we are told, is captured through endeavouring to imitate man by -copying his motions in dancing. The time-server, on the contrary, is one -who allures and decoys others. Nor does his mimicry take the same form -in all cases. One person he will help to dance and sing: with another he -will share a taste for wrestling and athletics. If he gets hold of a -sportsman devoted to hunting, he follows his lead, and all but shouts, -in the words of Phaedra, [Sidenote: C] - - _I long, ye Gods, to cheer the hounds - Close-pressing on the dappled deer_, - -whereas he feels no interest whatever in the animal, but is setting his -toils to catch the huntsman himself. If his next quarry is a young man -with a taste for study and intellectual improvement, he is all for -books, and grows a beard down to his feet; it is a case of wearing the -philosopher’s cloak and his air of ‘indifference’,[50] and of prating -about Plato’s ‘numbers’ and ‘right-angled triangles’. If, next, there -happens along some easy-going bibulous person with plenty of money, - - _Then forthwith are his rags cast off by the wily Odysseus._ - -[Sidenote: D] Away goes the cloak; shorn off is the beard—’tis a crop -that bears no corn: to the fore are wine-coolers and wine-cups, laughter -in the streets and mockery of the philosophic student. - -We are told, for instance, that at Syracuse, when Plato visited the -place and Dionysius was seized with a mania for philosophy, the host of -geometricians turned the palace into a perfect whirl of dust.[51] But -when Dionysius came to logger-heads with Plato, had had enough of -philosophy, and abandoned himself to drink and women and to silly talk -and wanton [Sidenote: E] behaviour, in a moment it was as if Circe had -transformed them every one, and there came a reign of vulgarity, -oblivion, and folly. Examples are also to be found in the conduct of -time-servers on a large scale, such as demagogues. Greatest was -Alcibiades. At Athens he joked, kept horses, and lived like a wit and a -man of the world. At Lacedaemon he cropped his hair close, wore a short -cloak, and bathed in cold water. In Thrace he fought and drank. But when -he attached himself to Tissaphernes, he indulged in luxury, effeminacy, -and ostentation, and sought to win the good graces of his company by -adapting himself in all cases to their likeness and becoming one of -them. Not so Epaminondas or Agesilaus. Despite [Sidenote: F] all their -intercourse with so many persons, communities, and standards of conduct, -they everywhere maintained—in dress, way of life, speech, and -behaviour—their own proper character. So with Plato. He was the same at -Syracuse as at Athens, the same to Dionysius as to Dion. - -Our easiest method of exposing the polypus-like changes of the -time-server is to make a show of frequent changes on our own part, -finding fault with conduct of which we formerly approved, and all of a -sudden countenancing actions, conduct, [Sidenote: 53] or talk which used -to fill us with disgust. We shall then perceive that he has no sort of -settled and specific character; that his loves, hatreds, pleasures, and -pains are not matters of his own feeling; that he is merely a mirror -reflecting extraneous moods, principles, and emotions. For observe the -man’s ways. Should you speak disparagingly to him of one of your -friends, he will remark: ‘You have been slow in finding the fellow out; -_I_ never did like him.’ If, on the contrary, you change your tone and -speak in his praise, he will declare that he is ‘right glad and thankful -on the man’s behalf’, because he ‘believes in him’. If you propose to -adopt a different mode of life—if, for example, [Sidenote: B] you are -converted from a political career to a life of quiet inactivity—he will -say, ‘We ought to have got quit of brawlings and jealousies long before -this.’ If, on the other hand, you appear eager for office and the -platform, he seconds you with, ‘A very proper spirit! A quiet life is -pleasant, no doubt, but it lacks honour and distinction.’ We ought -immediately to answer that kind of man with the words: - - ‘_Different, sir, dost thou show thyself now from the man thou wert - erstwhile._ - -I do not want a friend who shifts his ground when I do and who nods when -I nod—my shadow can do that better—but one who helps me to truth and -sound judgement.’ - -[Sidenote: C] Such is one way of applying a test. There is a second -point of difference to be watched, as against the points of resemblance. -It is not in all matters that a genuine friend is prompt to copy or -commend us, but only in the best. - - _Not his to share our hates, but share our loves_, - -as Sophocles has it. Yes, and to share our right conduct and high -principles, not our wrong and wanton deeds, unless perhaps—as a result -of familiar association—some contaminating effluence, like that of -ophthalmia, affects him to some extent with a blemish or a fault against -his will. For instance, it is said that [Sidenote: D] Plato’s stoop, -Aristotle’s lisp, King Alexander’s crook of the neck and harshness of -voice in conversation, were tricks borrowed by their respective -intimates. There are persons who, without knowing it, pick up from both -the temperament and conduct of their friends most of what is -characteristic of them. The time-server, however, is exactly like the -chameleon. As the latter assimilates himself to every colour but white, -so the time-server, though utterly unable to arrive at a likeness to -your valuable qualities, leaves no discreditable one uncopied. He is -like a bad painter, who, because beauty lies beyond the reach of his -weak capacity, makes the strikingness of his portraiture [Sidenote: E] a -matter of wrinkles, moles, and scars. So the toady becomes an imitator -of dissoluteness, superstition, irascibility, harshness to servants, and -distrust of friends and relatives. Not only is he by nature and of his -own accord prone to the lower course; it is by imitating a baseness that -he appears to be farthest from blaming it. A man who takes the higher -line, and shows distress and vexation at his friends’ misdeeds, is -dubiously regarded—a fact which accounts for the ruin of Dion with -Dionysius, of Samius with Philip, and of Cleomenes with Ptolemy. But -when a man desires to be, and to be thought, agreeable and to be -depended upon, the worse the thing is, the more display he makes of -liking it, as if the strength of his affection will not permit him to -dislike even your vices, but makes him your [Sidenote: F] natural -sympathizer in all circumstances. Such persons therefore insist upon -sharing even involuntary and accidental shortcomings. When toadying an -invalid, they pretend to suffer with the same complaint. In company with -a person who is somewhat blind or deaf, they pretend to be dim-sighted -and hard of hearing, like the flatterers of Dionysius, whose sight was -so dull that they stumbled against each other and knocked over the -dishes at dinner. - -Sometimes they work themselves into closer and more intimate touch with -a trouble or a malady, till they come to participate in afflictions of -the most secret kind. If they see [Sidenote: 54] that the patron is -unhappy in his marriage or on bad terms with his sons or his relatives, -they do not spare themselves, but make lamentations about their own -children, or wife, or relatives, or friends, on certain alleged grounds -which they divulge as a miserable secret. Such similarity creates a -closer understanding with their patron. He has received a sort of -hostage, thereupon betrays to them some secret or other, and, because of -that betrayal, keeps friends with them and is afraid to leave his -confidence to its fate. I know of one time-server who, when the patron -divorced his wife, turned his own wife also out of doors. It was, -however, found out—through a discovery [Sidenote: B] of the patron’s -wife—that he was visiting and sending messages to her in secret. The -toady must have been but little known to the man who thought that the -lines: - - _Body all belly, and an eye that looks - All round; a thing that crawls upon its teeth_, - -were as apt a description for a crab as they are for the flatterer. The -picture is that of the parasite: - - _The friend of saucepan-time and dinner-hour_, - -as Eupolis expresses it. - -This point, however, we will reserve till its proper place. Meanwhile we -must not omit to mention another shrewd trick played by the time-server -when he imitates you. If he goes so far as to copy some good quality in -the person whom he [Sidenote: C] toadies, he is careful to leave the -advantage with him. Friends in the true sense are neither jealous nor -envious of each other, and, whether they reach or fail to reach the same -degree of excellence, they accept the situation fairly and without a -grudge. But the toady—who never forgets to play second rôle—lets his -resemblance fall short of equality, and owns to being distanced at -everything but vices. In vices, however, he insists on first prize. If -the patron is irritable, he says, ‘_I_ am all bile;’ if superstitious, -‘_I_ am a mass of fears;’ if love-sick, ‘_I_ am frantic.’ [Sidenote: D] -‘It was wrong of you to laugh,’ he will say, ‘but _I_ was absolutely -dying with laughter.’ But where virtues are concerned it is the other -way about. ‘I am a fast runner, but _you_ positively fly.’ ‘I am a -tolerable horseman, but nothing to a centaur like our friend here.’ ‘I -have a neat turn for poetry, and can write a line better than some, but - - _Thunder is not for me, ’tis work for Zeus._’ - -He thus appears to do two things at once—to give an air of merit to his -patron’s tastes by imitating them, and of unapproachableness to his -ability by failing to match it. - -So much for the differences between fawner and friend in the midst of -their resemblances. - -Since, as we have observed, pleasure is another point in common—a good -type of man taking as much delight in his friends as a weak man does in -his flatterers—we may proceed to make a distinction here also. The -distinction lies in the relation between the pleasure and its end. Thus, -not only unguents [Sidenote: E] have an agreeable smell; a medicine may -have it also. But there is the difference that the object of the former -is pleasure and nothing else, while in the other case the purgative, -warming, or flesh-making quality happens to be combined with fragrance. -Again, a painter mixes engaging colours and dyes, and there are also -certain medical preparations with a taking appearance and an attractive -colour. Where is the difference? Clearly our distinction will lie in the -end for which they are used. Just so with the case before us. In the -agreeable relations of [Sidenote: F] friend with friend the -pleasant-giving element is a kind of gloss upon a substance of high -value and utility. Sometimes sportiveness, the table, wine, and even -mockery and nonsense are used by them as a seasoning to high and serious -purposes. Hence such expressions as: - - _Then had they joyance in talk and in speaking the one to the - other_; - -or: - - _Nor should aught else have parted us twain in our love and our - joyance._ - -But, with the time-server, it is his function and end to be [Sidenote: -55] perpetually dishing up in a spicy form something amusing, something -done or something said which pleases and is meant to please. - -To put it briefly, the toady thinks the purpose of his every action -should be to make himself agreeable, whereas the friend will only do -what is right, and therefore, though often agreeable, he is often the -contrary, not because he wishes it, but because, when it is the proper -course, he does not avoid it. It is as with the physician. When it helps -matters he will throw in a pinch of saffron or spikenard, and will -frequently order a pleasant bath and an inviting diet. But there are -times when he will have none of these, but will shake in a dash of -castor - - _Or polium foul of odor, that men e’en shudder to smell it._ - -[Sidenote: B] Or he will pound a dose of hellebore and make you drink it -off. Neither the unpleasantness in the one case nor the pleasantness in -the other is the end in his mind, but in both cases he has only one -object in view for the patient, and that object is his good. In the same -way there are times when a friend will lead you in the path of duty by -inspiriting you with praise or gratifying you with courtesies, as the -speaker does in - - _Teucer, Telamon’s son, dear prince of a warrior people, - Shoot as now thou dost_, - -or in: - - _How then should I, if ’tis so, be forgetful of godlike Odysseus?_ - -But when, on the contrary, you need calling to attention, he will -upbraid you in biting terms and with the plain-speaking of a guardian: -[Sidenote: C] - - _Foolish art thou, Menelaus Zeus-foster’d: no time is this present - For folly like thine._ - -There are also times when he makes the deed accompany the word, like -Menedemus, when he taught the prodigal and dissolute son of his friend -Asclepiades a wholesome lesson by shutting the door in his face and -refusing to speak to him. Similarly Arcesilaus forbade Bato the -lecture-room for having attacked Cleanthes in a verse of a comedy. He -was reconciled to him, however, when he repented and made his peace with -Cleanthes. For though one must give a friend pain when it does him good, -one must not, while giving the pain, make an end of the friendship. The -sting should be used only as a medicine, for the care and salvation of -the patient. A friend is therefore [Sidenote: D] like a musician. In -converting us to right and salutary courses he will sometimes loosen and -sometimes tighten the strings. Pleasure you will get from him often, -profit always. On the other hand, the time-server, who harps in a single -key and is accustomed to strike no note but that of your pleasure and -gratification, has no notion of any action to check you or word to pain -you. He merely plays the accompaniment to your wishes, with which both -his time and his words are invariably in accord. Xenophon says of -Agesilaus that he welcomed praise from those who were no less ready to -blame. So we should regard that which gives pleasure and gratification -as in the category of ‘friend’, if it can also on occasion oppose us and -give us pain. But a companionship which is uniformly pleasurable and -maintains [Sidenote: E] a perpetual graciousness unqualified by any -sting, calls for suspicion. We ought, in fact, to be ready to ask, like -the Laconian on hearing praise of King Charillus, ‘How can a man be -honest, when he cannot be angry even with a rascal?’ - -It is close to the ear, we are told, that the gadfly gets into a bull -and the tick into a dog. In the case of a man of ambition, the -time-server with his flatteries takes hold of his ears and sticks so -fast that it is hard to rub him off. Particularly, therefore, in such -circumstances must we keep our judgement vigilant. It must be on the -alert to see whether the praise is given to the [Sidenote: F] thing or -to the man. It is given to the thing when men praise us in our absence -more than in our presence; when they wish and strive for the same -objects themselves, and praise not only us but every one else who does -the like; when we do not find them doing and saying first one thing and -then the opposite; and—most important of all—when our sense does not -tell us that we are repenting or ashamed of the things for which we are -praised, or wishing that we had rather done and said the [Sidenote: 56] -contrary. This inward judgement, which testifies against a flattery and -refuses to accept it, is immune from contamination, and proof against -the time-server. - -It is a strange thing that most men, when they meet with a misfortune, -cannot bear to be consoled, but are better pleased with those who will -join in the lamentations; but when they are guilty of a blunder or a -fault, if you make them feel the sting of repentance by means of a -reproof or a reprimand, they think you an enemy and an accuser; whereas, -if you eulogize their conduct, they regard you as a loyal friend and -receive you with open arms. - -Now when people give you praise and applause for something [Sidenote: B] -you do or say, whether in sober earnest or in careless jest, the harm -they do is only for the moment, and only affects the matter in hand. But -when their praises go so far as to influence your moral being, and their -flatteries to affect your character, they are as bad as servants who -pilfer ‘_not from the stack, but from the seed_‘. For the moral -disposition and the moral character—first principle and fountain-head of -conduct—are the seed of actions, and these they corrupt by clothing vice -in the titles of virtue. Thucydides tells us that in the midst of war -and faction ‘_the customary acceptation of words was arbitrarily changed -to suit an end. Reckless daring came to be thought devoted courage; -[Sidenote: C] cautious hesitation, an excuse for cowardice; moderation, -weakness in disguise; complete insight, complete inertia_‘. So, when -flattery is at work, we should warily note how prodigality is called -‘generosity’; cowardice, ‘caution’; light-headed caprice, ‘life and -vigour’; meanness, ‘moderation’; the amorous man, ‘amiable and -affectionate’; the arrogant and irascible person, ‘a man of spirit’; a -poor meek creature, ‘civil and obliging’. [Sidenote: D] Remember, how -Plato tells us that the lover—the flatterer of the beloved—calls a snub -nose ‘piquant’, a hook-nose ‘regal’, a swarthy face ‘virile’, a white -face ‘saint-like’, while ‘honey-colour’ is simply the coinage of a lover -who indulgently invents a pretty name for pallor. Yet when an ugly man -is persuaded that he is beautiful, or a little man that he is tall, his -deception is short-lived, and the harm which he sustains is slight and -easily repaired. But flattery may teach him to treat vices as if they -[Sidenote: E] were virtues, and to rejoice in them instead of sorrowing. -It may remove all sense of shame at misconduct. Such flattery spelled -destruction to the Siceliots, when it called the cruelty of Dionysius -and Phalaris a ‘hatred of wickedness’. It spelled ruin to Egypt, when it -gave to Ptolemy’s effeminacy, to his hysterical superstition, to his -shriekings and bangings of tambourines, the name of piety and worship. -It came once within an ace of utterly subverting Roman morals, when it -glossed over Antony’s dissolute and ostentatious self-indulgence with -pretty terms as a ‘festive and genial appreciation of the boons of -unstinted [Sidenote: F] power and fortune’. What made Ptolemy tie on the -mouth-strap and its pair of flutes? What made Nero cultivate the tragic -stage and don the mask and buskin? What else but praise from flatterers? -Is not a king regularly called an Apollo if he warbles, a Dionysius if -he gets drunk, a Hercules if he wrestles? And is he not so pleased with -it, that there is no way of disgracing himself to which flattery will -not lead him? It is therefore in the matter of praise that we should -chiefly beware of the time-server. He is himself alive to the fact, and -[Sidenote: 57] is deft at avoiding suspicion. If therefore he gets hold -of some dull-witted and thick-skinned grandee, he fools him to the top -of his bent. Remember how Strouthias makes a hobby-horse of Bias and -dances his fling upon the man’s stupidity by praising him with: - - _You have drunk more than royal Alexander_, - -or: - - _I laugh to think o’ the quip you gave the Cyprian._ - -But with persons of more discernment he perceives that in this direction -they are particularly on the alert, that in this quarter they keep a -special watch. He does not therefore adopt a direct line of attack with -his flattery, but fetches a circuitous course from a distance, and - - _Advances noiselessly, as when a beast_ - -[Sidenote: B] is tentatively approached and fingered. At one moment he -will describe how you have been praised by some one else, using the -public speaker’s device of putting the words in another person’s mouth. -He will say, for instance, that he had the great pleasure of being -present in the market-place when some ‘visitors’—or some ‘elderly -people’—were relating a good many admiring and complimentary stories -about you. At another time he will concoct a number of trivial and -fictitious charges against you, which he purports to have heard from -others, and he will say that he has hastened to find you and desires to -know where you said such-and-such a thing or did so-and-so. If you deny -them—as you naturally will—he at [Sidenote: C] once has you in the trap -for his compliments: ‘It did surprise me that you should speak ill of a -friend, seeing that it is not your nature to do so even of an enemy;’ or -‘that you should have designs on other people’s property, when you are -so liberal with your own’. - -Others, again, are like a painter who brings the light and bright parts -into relief by the juxtaposition of dark and shaded portions. By -blaming, abusing, belittling, and ridiculing the opposite qualities, -they give a concealed praise and encouragement to the defects of the -person flattered. To a spendthrift they disparage economy and call it -stinginess. To a grasping knave [Sidenote: D] who makes money by mean -and shabby practices they depreciate honest self-support and call it -want of enterprise and business capacity. When they associate with some -careless idler who shuns the busy centres of affairs, they are not -ashamed to style public life a ‘meddling with other people’s business’, -and public spirit a ‘sterile vanity’. Sometimes, in order to flatter a -public speaker, a philosopher is belittled, or the favour of profligate -women is won by miscalling faithful and loving wives ‘provincial and -unattractive’. Most pitiful in its baseness is the fact that the toady -does not even spare himself. As a wrestler crouches his body in order to -throw another, so he insidiously contrives to compliment his neighbour -by disparaging himself. [Sidenote: E] ‘I am a nervous wretch at sea,’ -says he. ‘I cannot face trouble. Hard words make me frantically angry. -But our friend here has no nerves; nothing troubles him. He is a -peculiar person, always good-tempered, never ruffled.’ But if a man -thinks himself particularly sensible, and is so desirous of being -severely matter-of-fact that—out of what he calls straightforwardness—he -is always on the defensive with - - _Tydeus’ son, bepraise me not much, nor, prithee, upbraid me_, - -the artist in flattery will not adopt this manner of approaching -[Sidenote: F] him. Such cases are met by another device. He will come -and consult him, as a person of superior wisdom, about affairs of his -own. ‘Though,’ he will say, ‘there are others with whom I am more -intimate, I am compelled to trouble you. For where are we to take refuge -when we need advice? In whom are we to put confidence?’ Then, after -listening to what he has to say, he will take his leave with the remark -that what he has received is ‘not an opinion; it is an oracle’. And if -he sees that you make pretensions to being a judge of literature, he -gives you something he has [Sidenote: 58] written himself, and asks you -to read and correct it. When King Mithridates had a fancy for doctoring, -some of his courtiers actually put themselves in his hands to be lanced -and cauterized. This was flattery by deeds in place of words, since he -accepted their confidence as a sufficient voucher for his skill. - - _Of many shapes are means divine_, - -and this negative class of praise requires to be countered with some -craftiness. The way to confute it is by deliberately offering counsel -and suggestion which are nonsensical, and making corrections [Sidenote: -B] which are absurd. If your man objects to nothing, says ‘Yes’ to -everything, and exclaims ‘Good!’ ‘Capital!’ at every item, he exposes -himself as one who - - _The watchword asks, while other are his aims_, - -—those aims being to encourage your self-conceit with his laudations. - -Take another case. Painting has been styled ‘silent poetry’. So there is -a way of praising by silent flattery. The sportsman’s purpose is better -concealed from the game when he pretends to be upon other -business—walking, tending cattle, or tilling the soil. In the same way a -toady drives home his eulogies most effectively when the eulogy is -disguised under some different form of action. It may be by giving up -his seat, or his place [Sidenote: C] at table, when you appear upon the -scene. Or if he is addressing the Assembly or Council, and notices that -some wealthy man desires to speak, he may stop his speech and yield him -the platform. His silence indicates more clearly than the loudest -acclamation that he regards the person in question as a better man and -his intellectual superior. Such persons may therefore be seen taking -possession of the front seats at an entertainment or in the -meeting-hall, not because they claim any right to them, but in order -that they may play the toady by giving up their places to rich people. -Or you may see them begin the discussion at a congress or a -board-meeting, and subsequently give way to ‘superior argument’ and -shift round with the [Sidenote: D] greatest readiness to the opposite -view, if their opponent is a person of influence, wealth, or note. The -clearest exposure of such complaisances and concessions is to be sought -in the fact that it is not to knowledge or high abilities or age that -the deference is paid, but to riches and reputations. When Megabyzus -took a seat at Apelles’ side and wanted to prate to him about ‘line’ and -‘shading’, the painter remarked, ‘Do you see those boys yonder grinding -my mixing-earth? When you were silent, they were all eyes of admiration -for your purple and your jewels. But now that you have begun to talk -about things [Sidenote: E] you do not understand, they are laughing at -you.’ Similarly Solon, when Croesus questioned him about ‘happiness’, -declared that Tellus, an Athenian of humble rank, as well as Cleobis and -Biton, were more favoured by fortune. A flatterer, on the contrary, not -only avers that a king, a rich man, or a man in power, is prosperous and -fortunate; he also declares that he is pre-eminent in wisdom, art, and -every form of excellence. Hence while there are persons who have no -patience to listen when the Stoics describe the sage as at the same time -‘rich, beautiful, noble, and king’, a toady will make out that the rich -man is at the same time an orator, a poet, and—if he so wishes—a painter -and a musician. He makes him out swift of foot and [Sidenote: F] strong -of thew by letting himself be thrown in wrestling and outstripped in -running, as Criso of Himera did in a race against Alexander—much to -Alexander’s disgust when he detected it. Carneades used to say that the -only thing that kings’ and rich men’s sons understand is how to ride; -they receive no proper instruction in anything else. For their teacher -flatters them in school with his praises, and their antagonists in the -wrestling-ring by courting defeat; whereas a horse, who neither knows -nor cares whether you are in or out of office, poor or rich, pitches you -head first if you cannot keep your seat. It was therefore a silly and -stupid thing for Bion to say: ‘If by [Sidenote: 59] eulogizing a field -we could make it bear a prolific crop, would it not be a mistake for a -man to go digging and moiling instead? Neither, then, is it irrational -for you to praise a human being, if your praise is productive of good -fruit.’ A field suffers no injury from being praised, whereas insincere -and undeserved compliment puffs a man up and ruins him. - -On this point we have said enough. The next consideration is that of -candour. - -[Sidenote: B] When Patroclus, on going out to fight, dressed himself in -Achilles’ armour and drove his team, the one thing he let alone and did -not venture to touch was the Pelian spear. So it might have been -expected of the flatterer that, when dressing himself up carefully for -the part of ‘friend’, with its proper tokens and badges, the one thing -he would leave untouched and uncopied would be plain-speaking—a special -attribute, - - _Heavy and huge and stubborn_, - -to be wielded only by friendship. But in his fear that laughter, strong -drink, jest, and fun may mean his betrayal, we find him [Sidenote: C] -putting a solemn face on the business, flattering with a frown and -administering dashes of blame and admonition. Here again, therefore, we -must apply our tests. In a comedy of Menander, the Mock-Hercules comes -in carrying a club which has no strength or solidity, but is merely a -hollow sham. So, I take it, with the flatterer’s plain-speaking. On -trial you will find that it is soft and without weight or vigour; that -it behaves like a woman’s cushion, which, while seeming to offer a firm -support to the head, actually yields it more of its own way. [Sidenote: -D] This spurious candour, with its hollow fullness, its false and -superficial puffiness, is merely meant to shrink and collapse, so as to -induce the person who leans upon it to make himself more comfortable. -The genuine candour of a friend attacks only our misdeeds; it hurts only -out of care and protection; like honey, it merely stings our sores in -cleansing them, its general uses being grateful and sweet. This, -however, is a theme for special discussion. - -With the flatterer it is different. In the first place, when he displays -sharpness or heat or inflexibility, it is in dealing with others than -yourself. He is severe upon his own servants; he is terribly hard upon -the misdeeds of his own relations; he shows no admiration or respect for -a stranger, but treats [Sidenote: E] him with contempt; his scandalizing -is merciless when exacerbating other people. His object is to make it -appear that he detests low practices, and that he would not consent to -abate a jot of his candour in your behalf, or to do or say anything to -curry favour. In the next place, when there is something really and -seriously wrong, he pretends to be completely ignorant and unconscious -of it, while he will pounce upon some little immaterial shortcoming and -take it rigorously and vehemently to task—if, for instance, he sees an -implement carelessly placed, or a fault of domestic management, or -negligence in the cut of your hair or the wearing of your clothes, or -lack of [Sidenote: F] proper attention to a dog or a horse. But should -you slight your parents, neglect your children, humiliate your wife, -despise your relatives, and waste your money, it becomes no business of -his. In such circumstances not a word does he venture to utter, but he -is like a trainer who permits an athlete to get drunk and dissipated, -while he is severe upon him in the matter of an oil-flask or a -scraping-iron; or like a grammar-master who scolds a boy for the state -of his slate and pencil, but pretends not to hear his slips of grammar -and expression. The toady is the kind of man who, in dealing with a -ridiculously incompetent public speaker, has nothing to say about his -matter, but finds fault with his voice-production, and blames him -severely for spoiling [Sidenote: 60] his larynx by drinking cold drinks; -or who, when requested to peruse some miserable composition, finds fault -with the roughness of the paper and calls the copyist a slovenly wretch. -It was so in the case of Ptolemy, when he made pretence to literary -tastes. They would fight with him about some out-of-the-way word or bit -of a verse or point of information, and would keep it up till midnight. -But to his indulgence in cruelty and outrage, to his tambourine-playing -and initiating, not one of [Sidenote: B] all their number offered any -opposition. Imagine a man suffering with tumours and abscesses, and some -one taking a surgeon’s knife and cutting—his hair or his nails! That is -what the flatterer does. He employs his candour upon those parts which -feel no pain or soreness. - -There is a still craftier species, who make their plain-speaking and -fault-finding an actual means of pleasing. When Alexander was once -making large gifts to a jester, envy and vexation drove Agis, the -Argive, to bawl out, ‘How utterly absurd!’ The king turned upon him -angrily and asked, ‘_What_ is that you say?’ ‘I confess,’ was the reply, -‘to being annoyed and [Sidenote: C] indignant when I see how much alike -all you sons of Zeus are in your fondness for flatterers and ridiculous -persons. Heracles found pleasure in his Cercopes, Dionysus in Sileni, -and we can see what a high regard you have yourself for people of the -kind.’ One day when the emperor Tiberius entered the Senate, one of his -flatterers got up and said that, as free men, they were bound to speak -frankly and to treat important interests without reticence or -reservation. When he had thus aroused every one’s interest and had -secured silence and the attention of Tiberius, he said, ‘Listen, Caesar, -to the charge which we all make against you, but which no one dares to -utter openly. You are neglecting yourself, sacrificing your health and -wearing it out by perpetually working and thinking for us, and giving -yourself [Sidenote: D] no rest day or night.’ As he continued with a -good deal more in the same strain, the orator Cassius Severus is said to -have exclaimed, ‘Such plain-speaking will be the man’s death!’ - -These devices, however, are of minor moment. The matter becomes grave—as -meaning ruin to foolish people—when a man is accused of the opposite -disorders to those with which he is afflicted; as when the parasite -Himerius used to scold the meanest and most avaricious plutocrat in -Athens by calling him a reckless prodigal, bent on bringing himself and -his children to starvation; or when, on the contrary, a toady reproaches -[Sidenote: E] a prodigal spendthrift with sordid parsimony, as Titus -Petronius did Nero; or when he urges a ruler who behaves with savage -cruelty towards his subjects to divests himself of ‘all that gentleness -and ill-timed and mistaken clemency’. - -To the same class belongs the man who pretends to look upon some silly -nincompoop as a clever rogue of whom he is afraid and wary. Or if an -ill-conditioned person who delights in perpetual fault-finding and -scandalizing does happen to be led into praising some distinguished man, -he may take him to task and raise objections, for ‘it is a weakness of -yours, this praising [Sidenote: F] of even quite insignificant people. -What remarkable thing has he ever said or done?’ - -Love-affairs are favourite ground for the flatterer to play upon his -victim by further inflaming his passion. If he sees you at variance with -your brothers, or neglecting your parents, or contemptuous towards your -wife, he offers neither remonstrance nor reproach, but actually -intensifies the bad feeling. ‘No: you don’t appreciate yourself,’ or, -‘It is you that are to blame, for always playing the humble servant.’ -But if anger [Sidenote: 61] and jealousy provoke a tiff with a mistress -of whom you are enamoured, in comes flattery at once with a fine blaze -of frankness, and adds fuel to the fire by pleading cause and accusing -the lover of all sorts of unloverlike, unfeeling, and unforgivable -conduct: - - _O ingrate! after all that rain of kisses!_ - -Thus, when Antony was becoming passionately enamoured of the Egyptian -queen, his friends did their best to persuade him that the love was on -her side, and they upbraided him with being ‘cold and supercilious’. -‘The lady has forsaken all that royal state and that life of delightful -enjoyments to go wandering [Sidenote: B] about on the march with you, -like any concubine. - - _But, for thee, the heart in thy breast is past all moving or - charming_, - -and you leave her to suffer as she will.’ It gratified Antony to be thus -put in the wrong; no praise could please him like these accusations; and -unconsciously he became perverted to the standard of the man who -pretended to be reproving him. For candour of this kind is like the bite -of a lascivious woman; while pretending to give pain, it arouses a -provoking sensation of pleasure. - -Though unmixed wine is, generally speaking, a corrective of hemlock, -yet, if you add it to that drug in the form of a mixture, [Sidenote: C] -you make it impossible to counteract the power of the poison, the heat -driving it rapidly to the heart. So, while aware that candour is a -potent corrective of flattery, your rogue actually uses ‘candour’ as his -instrument for flattering you. Bias was therefore wrong in his answer to -the question: ‘What animal is the most dangerous?’ when he replied, -‘Among wild animals, the despot, among tame animals, the toady.’ It -would have been truer to say that, among toadies, those who merely -frequent your bath and your table are tame, while those who thrust the -[Sidenote: D] tentacles of their slanderous and malicious meddling into -bedchamber and boudoir are savage and unmanageable beasts. - -The one method of protecting ourselves appears to lie in recognizing and -never forgetting that our mental being is made up of two parts—one -high-principled and rational, the other irrational, mendacious and -passionate—and that a friend is the unfailing supporter and champion of -the better part—a physician who promotes and watches over good -health—while a flatterer acts as prompter to the passionate and -irrational part, exciting, titillating, coaxing, and divorcing it from -reason by inventing [Sidenote: E] low forms of self-indulgence on its -behalf. There are some kinds of food which yield no benefit to blood or -breath, and put no vigour into muscle or marrow, but simply excite the -sensual appetites and make the flesh flabby and unsound. So with the -advice of a fawner. If does nothing to help sane thought and judgement; -but watch it, and you will find it cosseting an amorous pleasure, -aggravating a foolish fit of anger or provoking an attack of envy, -puffing you up with vulgar and empty pride, encouraging your doleful -dumps, or, where there is a tendency to be ill-natured or mean-spirited -or mistrustful, making the [Sidenote: F] feeling more bitter or shy or -suspicious by constantly suggesting and anticipating evil. For he is -perpetually in wait for some passion or other, which he proceeds to feed -up; and whenever there is a festering or inflammation of your mental -state, you will always find him a kind of bubo, bringing it to a head. -Are you angry? ‘Then punish.’ Do you crave a thing? ‘Then buy it.’ Are -you afraid? ‘Then let us run away.’ Are you suspicious? ‘Then trust the -feeling.’ - -If it is hard to catch him in connexion with such affections as -these—their strength being so overpowering as to baffle the reason—he -will give you a better opening in smaller matters; for he will be just -the same with them. If you are apprehensive [Sidenote: 62] of a headache -or a surfeit, and are doubtful as to bathing or taking food, a friend -will try to check you and will urge you to be cautious, whereas the -toady will drag you to the bath, or ask them to put some novel dish on -the table, begging you not ‘to keep so tight a hand upon your body as to -be cruel to it’. If he sees you inclined to shirk a journey, a voyage, -or a piece of work, he will say that there is no immediate hurry, and -that it will do just as well if you postpone the matter or send someone -else. If, after promising a friend to make him a loan or a present of a -sum of money, you repent, but have your scruples, the toady [Sidenote: -B] throws his weight into the less honourable scale; he corroborates -‘the argument of the purse’, and makes short work of your sense of shame -by urging you to be economical, ‘seeing that you have so many expenses -and so many persons to support.’ - -If, therefore, we are able to perceive our own covetousness, -shamelessness, or cowardice, we shall also be able to see when a man is -a toady. Such he is when he is always playing the advocate to those -passions and ‘speaking his mind’ when we deviate from them. - -Enough having been said upon this topic, we may next proceed to the -question of the practical services rendered. In this [Sidenote: C] -respect the flatterer makes his distinction from the friend a very -obscure and perplexing matter; he always appears so prompt and -indefatigable in his zeal. While a friend’s way, like the ‘speech of -truth’ as described by Euripides, is ‘single’, open, and unaffected, -that of the flatterer - - _Sick in itself, needs antidotes full shrewd_ - -—uncommonly so, indeed, and plenty of them. When you meet a friend, he -sometimes passes on without uttering or receiving a word, and with no -more than a glance or a smile; he simply manifests by his expression, -and gathers from yours, the kindly [Sidenote: D] understanding within. -But the toady is on the run to overtake you, greets you from a long way -off, and, if you catch sight of him and speak to him first, he excuses -himself over and over again, calling his witnesses and taking his oath. -So in the matter of actions. A friend will neglect many a trifle; he is -no precisian and makes no fuss; he does not insist upon serving you at -every turn. But the other is persistent, unremitting, unwearied; he -leaves no opportunity or room for any one else to serve you; he is eager -to receive your orders, and, if he does not get them, he is piqued, nay, -absolutely heart-broken with disappointment. A sensible man, then, may -take these as some indications that a friendship is not sincere and -single-minded, [Sidenote: E] but is like a harlot who forces her -embraces upon you before they are asked for. - -The first place, however, in which to look for the difference is in -promises. It has already been well said by previous writers that a -friend will put his promise in the form familiar in - - _If I have power to achieve it, and if ’tis a thing for - achievement_, - -while a time-server will put it in this: - - _Voice me the thought in thy mind._ - -The comedians present us with such characters: - - _Nicomachus, pit me against the soldier. - I’ll make ripe pulp of him; I’ll make his face - Softer than sponge: if not, then flog me soundly._ - -In the next place no friend will be a party to your actions [Sidenote: -F] unless he has first been a party to planning them. He must first have -looked into the business and helped to put it on a right and proper -footing. Not so the flatterer. Even if you do grant him a share in -weighing the matter and expressing an opinion about it, he is not only -so anxious to gratify you with his complaisance, but is in such dread of -leading you to suspect him of unreadiness to face the action, that he -leaves you to take your course, or only lends spurs to your desire. It -is not easy to find a rich man or a grandee who is ready to say: -[Sidenote: 63] - - _Give me a man, a beggar—nay, no matter, - Lower than beggar, if he means me well— - To put fear by, and speak his heart to me._ - -Like the tragedian, he must have the support of a chorus of friends who -keep his tune, or of an audience who give applause. Merope in the -tragedy advises: - - _Get thee for friends such men as, when they speak, - Yield not; but when a man will for thy pleasure - Make himself knave, lock thou thy door against him._ - -[Sidenote: B] But such persons do the opposite. If, ‘when you speak’ you -‘yield not’, but oppose them for their good, they abominate you; but if -‘for their pleasure’ you are a ‘knave’ and a servile charlatan, they -receive you not merely inside their locked doors but inside their most -secret passions and concerns. The simple kind of flatterer, it is true, -does not aim at so much. What he asks in such important matters is not -to be your adviser, but your minister and servant. But the more crafty -person will stand still—puzzling over the question with puckered brow -and appropriate changes of countenance—but will say nothing. And if you -give your own idea, he will exclaim, ‘How strange! You just managed to -anticipate me. I was about to make exactly your suggestion.’ - -[Sidenote: C] Mathematicians tell us that lines and surfaces, being -mental perceptions and incorporeal, have in themselves no such thing as -bending, stretching, or motion, but that they are bent, stretched, and -changed in position along with the bodies of which they are the -boundaries. So you will discover that, with the time-server, his assent, -his opinion, even his pleasure and anger, are always dependent. Here, -therefore, it is perfectly easy to detect the difference. It is still -more apparent in the manner in which a service is rendered. With the -good feeling of a friend, as with a living creature, its most vital -functions lie [Sidenote: D] deep. It is marked by no ostentatious -display; but very often, like a physician who conceals the fact that he -is doctoring you, a friend does you a good turn by a word of -intercession or by bringing about an understanding, and so consults your -interests without your knowing it. Arcesilaus was a man of this type. -Not to mention other instances, when Apelles the Chian was ill and -Arcesilaus had discovered how poor he was, he came back later with -twenty drachmae. Taking a seat close to him, he exclaimed, ‘There is -nothing here beyond Empedocles’ four elements: - - _Fire and water and earth and the gentle air of the heavens._ - -Why, even your bed is made all askew.’ With that he moved his pillow and -meanwhile slipped the coins under it. When the [Sidenote: E] old woman -in attendance found them and told Apelles in amazement, he laughed and -said, ‘It is that thief Arcesilaus.’[52] - -And here we may note how philosophy produces ‘_children like unto their -sires_‘. Cephisocrates, who had been impeached, was on his trial, and -beside him, with the rest of his friends, stood Lacudes, one of the -coterie of Arcesilaus. The accuser having asked for his ring, -Cephisocrates quietly dropped it at his side, and Lacudes, who noticed -the action, put his foot upon it and hid it. On that ring depended the -proof of the charge. When Cephisocrates, after his acquittal, went -shaking hands with members of the jury, one of them, who had apparently -[Sidenote: F] seen what occurred, bade him thank Lacudes, and gave an -account of the affair, which Lacudes had mentioned to no one. We may -believe that it is the same with the Gods, and that for the most part -they confer their benefits unperceived, it being their nature to find -pleasure in the mere act of bestowing favours and doing good. But in a -deed done by a flatterer there is nothing honest, sincere, -single-minded, or generous. It is a case of sweating, bawling, bustling, -and of a tense look upon the face, intended to convey the impression of -arduous and urgent business. The thing resembles, in fact, an overdone -painting, [Sidenote: 64] which strives to secure realistic effect by the -use of blatant colours and affected folds, wrinkles, and angles. - -He is also offensive enough to relate how the business has meant running -about and anxiety, and he goes on to describe how he has got into -trouble with other people and had no end of worry and some terrible -experiences, until you declare that the thing was not worth it all. Any -obligation thrown in your teeth will cause an unbearable and distressing -sense of annoyance, but with an obligation from a time-server your sense -of reproach and shame is felt at once, from the very moment that the -service [Sidenote: B] is being rendered. A friend, on the other hand, if -he has occasion to speak of the matter, qualifies his account of it, and -about himself he says nothing. For example, the Lacedaemonians once sent -the people of Smyrna some corn at a time of need, and, to their -expressions of admiration of the kindness, they replied, ‘Not at all! To -scrape this together we had only to vote the forgoing of one day’s -dinner for ourselves and our beasts.’ A favour so rendered is not only a -generous one; it is made the more welcome to the recipients by the -thought that no great harm is done to the benefactor. - -It is not, however, by the flatterer’s offensive way of rendering his -services nor by the recklessness of his promises that one [Sidenote: C] -can best recognize the breed; an easier criterion consists in the -creditable or discreditable nature of the service, and in the different -character of the pleasure or benefit. A friend will not, as Gorgias -asserted, expect his friend to render him honest services and yet -himself oblige that friend in many ways which are not honest: - - _’Tis his to share the wisdom, not the folly._ - -Rather, therefore, he will dissuade him also from improper courses. And, -if he fails, there is virtue in Phocion’s answer to Antipater, ‘You -cannot use me both as friend and toady’—that is to say, both as friend -and not friend. We must help a friend in his need, not in his knavery; -in his planning, not in his plotting; with testimony, not conspiracy. -Yes, and we must share in his misfortunes, though not in his misdeeds. -We [Sidenote: D] should not choose even to be privy to the baseness of -our friends; how then to be a party to their misbehaviour? When the -Lacedaemonians, after their defeat by Antipater, were making terms, they -stipulated that, though he might impose any penalty he liked, he should -impose no disgrace. It is the same with a friend. Should occasion call -for expense or danger or hard work, he is foremost in his claim to be -summoned and take a prompt and zealous part; but when disgrace attaches -to it, he will as promptly beg to be spared and left alone. But with the -fawner it is the reverse. In services of difficulty and danger he cries -off, and, if you give him a tap to sound him, his excuse—whatever -[Sidenote: E] it may be—rings false and mean. But in vile and degrading -little jobs, do as you like with him; trample on him; nothing shocks or -insults him. - -Look at the ape. He cannot watch the house like a dog, nor carry like a -horse, nor plough the ground like an ox. He is therefore the bearer of -scurrilous insult and buffoonery and the butt of sport, his function -being to serve as a tool for laughter. Precisely so with the toady. He -is unequal to any form of labour and serious effort, and incapable of -helping you by a speech, with a contribution, or in a fight; but in -business which shuns the light he is promptitude itself—a most competent -[Sidenote: F] agent in an amour, an adept at ransoming a strumpet, alert -at checking the bill for a drinking-bout, no sloven in the ordering of -your dinner, deft at attentions to your mistress, and, if you bid him -show insolence to your wife’s relations or bundle her out of doors, he -is beyond all pity or shame. - -This, therefore, is another easy means of finding him out. Order him to -do any disreputable and discreditable thing you [Sidenote: 65] choose, -and he is ready to spare no pains in gratifying you accordingly. - -A very good indication of the wide difference between our fawner and a -friend may be found in his attitude towards your other friends. The one -is delighted to have many others giving and receiving affection with -him, and his constant aim is to make his friend widely loved and -honoured. He holds that ‘_friends have all things in common_‘, and their -friends, he thinks, [Sidenote: B] should be more ‘in common’ than -anything else. But the other—the false, bastard, and spurious -article—realizes, better than any one, how he is himself sinning against -friendship by—so to speak—debasing its coinage. While, therefore, he is -jealous by nature, it is only against his like that he gives his -jealousy play, by striving to surpass them in grovelling and lickspittle -tricks. Of his betters he stands in fear and dread, we cannot say -because he is - - _Plodding on foot against a Lydian car_, - -but because, as Simonides has it, he - - _Hath not e’en lead - To match the pure refinèd gold._ - -If, therefore, light in weight, surface-gilt and counterfeit, he finds -himself put in close comparison with genuine friendship, [Sidenote: C] -full-carat and mint-made, he cannot bear the test, and must be detected. -Consequently he acts like the painter whose cocks in a picture were -wretchedly done, and who therefore ordered his slave to drive any real -cocks as far from his canvas as possible. In the same way the flatterer -drives away real friends and prevents them coming near. If he fails, -while openly he will fawn upon them and pay them court and deference as -being his betters, in secret he will throw out calumnious hints and -suggestions. And if the word in secret has given a scratch without at -once absolutely producing a wound, he never forgets Medius’s maxim. This -Medius was what may be called the [Sidenote: D] fugleman or expert -conductor of the chorus of toadies who surrounded Alexander, and was at -daggers drawn with the highest characters. His maxim was, ‘Be bold in -laying on and biting with your slanders, for even if the man who is -bitten salves the wound, the slander will leave its scar.’ It was -through these scars, or rather because he was eaten up with gangrenes -and ulcers, that Alexander put Callisthenes, Parmenio, and Philotas to -death. Meanwhile he surrendered himself unreservedly to a Hagnon, a -Bagoas, an Agesias, or a Demetrius, and allowed them to give him a fall -by salaaming to him and dressing him up after the fashion of an oriental -idol. So powerful an effect [Sidenote: E] has complaisance, and -apparently most of all with those who think most of themselves. Their -wish for the finest qualities goes with the belief that they possess -them, and so the flatterer acquires both credit and confidence. For -while lofty places are difficult of approach or assault for all who have -designs upon them, the lofty conceit produced in a foolish mind by the -gifts of fortune or talent offers the readiest footing to those who are -small and petty. - -As therefore we urged at the beginning of this treatise, so we urge -again here; ‘Let us make a clearance of self-love and self-conceit.’ -These, by flattering us in advance, render us more [Sidenote: F] -amenable to flattery from outside: we come prepared. But if, in -obedience to the God, we recognize how all-important the maxim _Know -Thyself_ is to each of us; if we therefore examine our own nature, -training, and education, and observe how all alike fall short of -excellence in countless ways, and how they all contain a large admixture -of weakness in the things we do or say or feel, we shall be very slow in -allowing the flatterer to abuse us at his pleasure. Alexander remarked -that what made him give least credence to those who called him a God was -his sleep and his sexualities, his excesses in those things falling -below his own standard. On our own part we shall [Sidenote: 66] always -discover that at many a point and in many a way our qualities are ugly -or a source of pain, defective or misdirected. We shall see ourselves in -our true light, and find that what we need is not a friend who will pay -us compliments and eulogies, but one who will bring us to book when we -are really doing wrong. But only then. There are in any case very few -with the courage to treat a friend with candour rather than -complaisance; yet among these few it will be hard to find such as -understand their business. It will be easier to find persons who imagine -that they are using candour because they abuse and scold. Yet it is with -plain-speaking as with any other medicine. [Sidenote: B] When it is -given at the wrong time the effect is to upset and pain you to no -purpose. In a certain sense it does painfully what flattery does -pleasantly, inasmuch as unseasonable blame works as much harm as -unseasonable praise. More than anything else it is a thing which drives -a man headlong into the arms of the flatterer. Like water, he turns from -the steep unyielding surface and glides away into the receptive -shallows. Candour, therefore, must be tempered by rational courtesy, -which will divest it of excess and over-severity. The light must not be -so strong that in our pain and distress at the invariable reproving and -fault-finding we turn away to escape discomfort and fly to find shade -with the flatterer. - -[Sidenote: C] In shunning a vice, Philopappus, our object should always -be virtue, not the contrary vice. Some people think they escape being -shamefaced by being shameless; that they escape being rustic by being -ribald; that their behaviour becomes furthest from timidity and -cowardice when they appear nearest to impudence and insolence. Some -plead to themselves that they would rather be irreligious than -superstitious, rather [Sidenote: D] knaves than simpletons. Their -character may be likened to a piece of wood, which, through lack of the -skill to straighten it, they crook to the opposite side. The ugliest way -of refusing to flatter is to give useless pain. Our social intercourse -must be boorishly ignorant of all the rules of good feeling when it is -by being harsh and disagreeable that we avoid any creeping humbleness in -our friendship, just as if we were the freedman in the comedy, who -thinks that, to be properly enjoyed, ‘speech on equal terms’ means -abusive speech. - -Since, therefore, it as an ugly thing when our striving to be agreeable -lands us in flattery, and an ugly thing when, in the avoidance of -flattery, all the spirit of friendly sympathy is ruined by immoderate -plain-speaking; and since we ought to commit neither mistake, but—in -candour as in other things—draw ‘success from moderation’, mere logical -sequence seems to [Sidenote: E] dictate the conclusion to our treatise. - -Plain-speaking, we find, is liable to be, as it were, tainted in various -ways. The first thing is to divest it of its selfish aspect, by taking -the greatest care not to let it appear as if your reproaches were due to -a kind of injury or grievance of your own. When the speaker is concerned -about himself, we regard his words as the outcome of anger, not of -goodwill; as grumbling, not as reproof. For whereas candour is a mark of -friendliness which compels respect, grumbling is petty and selfish. We -therefore respect and admire the person who is frank, while a -fault-finder provokes recrimination and contempt. Though Achilles -[Sidenote: F] imagined he was speaking with but reasonable frankness, -Agamemnon lost his temper; but when Odysseus attacked him bitterly in -the words - - _Madman, thou shouldst have commanded some other, some pitiful - army_, - -he patiently gave way, the friendly purpose and good sense of the speech -causing him to draw in his horns. The reason was that, while the -plain-speaking of Odysseus, who had no private [Sidenote: 67] grounds -for anger, was only for the sake of Greece, the vexation of Achilles was -thought to be chiefly on his own account. Nay, Achilles himself, though -possessed of no sweet or gentle temper, but - - _A terrible man, who must blame, e’en though it be blaming the - blameless_, - -silently permitted Patroclus to give him many such hard blows: - - _Man of no pity, no father of thine was Peleus the horseman, - Thetis no mother of thine; from the green-grey sea wert thou gotten - By beetling crags; so comes it thy heart is void of all mercy._ - -[Sidenote: B] The orator Hypereides used to urge the Athenians to -consider not merely whether he was angry, but whether his anger was -gratuitous. So with the admonition of a friend. When pure from any -private feeling, it is a thing of awe, which we cannot face unabashed. -And if, when a man is speaking his mind, it is manifest that he is -casting aside any wrongs his friend may have done to himself; that it is -other misdemeanours on his part which he is bringing home—other reasons -for which he does not shrink from giving him pain—such candour produces -an irresistible effect, the sharpness and severity of the admonition -being intensified by the kindliness of the admonisher. Doubtless, -[Sidenote: C] as has been well said, ‘it is most of all when we are -angry or at variance with our friends that we should do or devise -something to their advantage or credit’; but we show no less true a -friendliness if, when we think ourselves slighted or neglected, it is on -behalf of other victims of neglect that we give them a plain-spoken -reminder. Plato, at a time when his relations with Dionysius were -strained and dubious, asked for an interview. Dionysius granted it, in -the belief that Plato was coming with a tale of grievance of his own. -The conversation, however, took the following shape. ‘Suppose, -Dionysius, you discovered [Sidenote: D] that some ill-disposed person -had made a voyage to Sicily with the intention of doing you an injury, -but that he could find no opportunity. Would you allow him to leave the -country and get away scot-free?’ ‘Certainly not, Plato,’ said Dionysius: -‘enemies must be hated and punished not only for what they do, but for -what they propose to do.’ ‘Then suppose,’ said Plato, ‘some one comes -here in a friendly spirit, with the intention of rendering you a -service, but that you afford him no chance. Is it a proper thing to cast -him aside with ingratitude and contempt?’ Upon Dionysius asking who it -was, he answered, ‘Aeschines, a man who, in rightness of character, will -compare with any of Socrates’ associates, and whose teaching cannot fail -to set any hearer firmly on his feet. Though he has [Sidenote: E] made a -long voyage for the sake of philosophic intercourse with you, he has -been left in neglect.’ These words stirred Dionysius so deeply that, in -admiration of his kindliness and magnanimity, he promptly embraced Plato -with effusion and proceeded to pay to Aeschines the most distinguished -attentions. - -In the second place, our candour must be cleared of all excrescences, so -to speak. We must allow it no coarse flavourings in the shape of -insulting ridicule or buffoonish mockery. When a surgeon is performing -an operation, a certain ease and neatness [Sidenote: F] should be -incidentally apparent in his work, but there should be no supple -juggleries of the hand in the way of fantastic and risky _fioriture_. In -the same way candour admits of a dexterous touch of wit, so long as it -is so prettily put as to maintain our respect; but impertinent and -insolent buffoonery utterly destroys that feeling. Hence the harpist -chose a polite as well as a forcible way of stopping Philip’s mouth, -when that monarch attempted to argue with him on a question of musical -note. ‘Sire,’ said he, ‘Heaven forbid you should ever become so badly -off as to know more about these things than I do!’ [Sidenote: 68] -Epicharmus, on the other hand, chose the wrong way, when Hiero, a few -days after putting some of his familiars to death, invited him to -dinner. ‘Nay, but,’ said he, ‘the other day there was no invitation to -your sacrifice of your friends.’[53] It was also a mistake for Antiphon, -when the question: ‘What sort of bronze is the best?’ was under -discussion in the presence of Dionysius, to say, ‘That kind out of which -they made the statues of Harmodius and Aristogeiton at Athens.’ No good -is done by the stinging bitterness of such speeches, nor is any pleasure -given by their scurrilous pleasantry. Language of the [Sidenote: B] kind -comes only from a want of self-command—which is partly insolent -ill-nature—combined with enmity. Those who use it are courting their own -destruction as well; they are veritably dancing a ‘dance at the well’s -edge’. Antiphon was put to death by Dionysius; Timagenes was banished -from Caesar’s friendship, not because of any free word he ever uttered, -but because, at dinner-parties or when walking, he would perpetually and -with no serious purpose whatever, but - - _For whatsoever him thought might move the Argives to laughter_, - -advance some charge against his conduct as a friend, merely by way of -pretext for upbraiding him. - -It is the same with the comic poets. Their work contained many serious -and statesmanlike appeals to the audience; but [Sidenote: C] these were -so much mixed up with farce and ribaldry—like good food in a hotch-potch -of greenstuff—that their plain-speaking lost all nutritive power and -use, with the result that the speaker was looked upon as an ill-natured -buffoon, and the hearer derived no benefit from the speech. - -In other cases by all means have your fun and laugh with your friends, -but when you give them a piece of your mind, let it be done with -earnestness and with courtesy. And if the matter is one of importance, -impart a cogent and moving effect to your words by your emotions, -gestures, and tone of voice. - -There is also the question of the right moment. To disregard it is in -all cases a serious mistake, but is particularly ruinous to good results -when you are ‘speaking your mind’. That we should beware of doing -anything of the kind when wine and inebriation are to the fore, is -obvious. It is to bring a cloud [Sidenote: D] over the bright sky, if, -in the midst of fun and gaiety, you moot a topic which puckers the brow -and stiffens the face, as if to defeat the ‘Relaxing God’, who—to quote -Pindar— - - _Unbends the harassed brow of care._ - -Nay, there is actually great danger in such unseasonableness. Wine -renders the mind perilously testy, and tipsiness often takes command of -candour and converts it into enmity. Moreover, instead of showing spirit -and courage, it shows a want of manliness for a person who dare not -speak his mind when sober to become bold at table, like a cowardly dog. - -There is, however, no need to dwell further upon this theme. Let us -proceed. - -There are many who, when affairs are going well with their [Sidenote: E] -friends, neither make any claim nor possess the courage to put restraint -upon them. Prosperity, they think, lies quite beyond the reach of -admonition. But should one stumble and come to grief, they set upon him. -He is tame and humbled, and they trample upon him. The stream of their -candour has been unnaturally dammed up, and now they let the whole flood -loose upon him. He was once so disdainful, and they so feeble, that they -thoroughly enjoy his change of fortune and make the most of it. It is as -well, therefore, to discuss this class also. - -If Euripides asks: - - _When fortune blesses, what the need of friends?_ - -the answer must be that it is the prosperous man who has most [Sidenote: -F] need of friends to speak their minds and take down any excess of -pride. There are few who can be both prosperous and wise at the same -time. Most men require to import wisdom from abroad; they require that -reasoning from outside should put compression upon them when fortune -puffs them up and sets them swaying in the wind. But when fortune -reduces their inflated bulk, the situation itself carries its own lesson -and brings repentance home. There is consequently no occasion for -friendly candour or for language which bites and distresses. When such -reverses happen, verily [Sidenote: 69] - - _’Tis sweet to look into a friend’s fond eyes_, - -while he gives us solace and encouragement. Xenophon says of Clearchus -that in battle and danger there appeared upon his face a look of -geniality which put greater heart into those who were in peril. But to -employ your mordant candour upon a man who is in trouble, is like -administering ‘sharp-sight drops’ to an eye suffering with inflammation. -It does nothing to cure or relieve the pain, but only adds anger to it -by exasperating [Sidenote: B] the sufferer. For instance, when a man is -in health he is not in the least angry or furious with a friend for -blaming his looseness with the other sex, his drinking, his shirking of -work and exercise, his continual bathings and ill-timed gorgings. But -when he is sick, the thing is intolerable. It is more sickening than the -disease to be told, ‘This is the result of your reckless -self-indulgence, your laziness, your rich dishes, and your women.’ ‘What -an unseasonable man you are! I am writing my will; the doctors are -getting castor and scammony ready for me; and you come preaching and -philosophizing!’ So, when a man is in trouble, the situation is not one -for speaking your mind and moralizing. What it requires is sweet -reasonableness [Sidenote: C] and help. When a little child has a fall, -the nurse does not rush up in order to scold it. She picks it up, washes -off the dirt, and straightens its dress. It is afterwards that she -proceeds to reprimand and punish. - -An apposite story is told of Demetrius Phalereus, when he was in -banishment and was living at Thebes in mean and obscure circumstances. -It was with no pleasure that he saw Crates coming towards him, inasmuch -as he expected to hear some plain-spoken cynic abuse. Crates, however, -accosted him gently, and then spoke upon the subject of exile—how there -was no calamity in it, and how little need there was to be distressed, -[Sidenote: D] since it meant getting rid of cares, with their dangers -and uncertainties. At the same time he urged him to have confidence in -himself and his inner man. Cheered and heartened by such language, -Demetrius exclaimed to his friends: ‘Alas, for all that engrossing -business which prevented me from getting to know a man like this!’ - - _To one in grief a friend should speak kind words, - But to great folly words of admonition._ - -Such is the way of a noble friend. But the mean and ignoble flatterer of -the prosperous man is like those ‘ruptures and [Sidenote: E] sprains’ of -which Demosthenes tells us that ‘when the body meets with an injury, -then you begin to feel them’. He seizes upon your change of fortune with -every appearance of delight and enjoyment. If you do require any -reminder when your own ill-advised conduct has brought you to the -ground, it should suffice to say: - - _’Twas not with approval of mine: full oft did I seek to dissuade - thee._ - -In what cases, then, ought a friend to be uncompromising? When should he -exert his candour to the full? It is when the proper moment calls for -him to stem the vehement course of pleasure, anger, or insolence; to put -the curb on avarice; to [Sidenote: F] restrain a reckless folly. It was -in this way that, when the precarious favours of fortune had corrupted -Croesus with the pride of luxury, Solon spoke his mind to him, bidding -him wait and see the end. It was in this way that Socrates was wont to -put control on Alcibiades, to wrench his heart and draw genuine tears -from him by bringing his errors home. Such was the method of Cyrus with -Cyaxares. Such too, when Dion’s splendour was at its height and he was -drawing all men’s eyes upon him by the brilliance and greatness of his -exploits, was [Sidenote: 70] the method of Plato, who bade him keep -anxious watch against - - _Self-will, house-mate of Solitude._ - -Speusippus also urged Dion in his letters not to be proud because he had -a great name among children and women-folk, but to take care and ‘make -glorious’ the Academy by adorning Sicily with piety and justice and the -best of laws. But not so Euctus and Eulaeus, the associates of Perseus. -In his prosperity they followed him like the rest, always assenting, -always complaisant. But when he met the Romans at Pydna, was defeated, -and fled, they attacked him with bitter censure, reminding him of his -errors and oversights and throwing them one after the other in his -teeth, until the man became so utterly sore and [Sidenote: B] angry that -he made an end of both by stabbing them with his dagger. - -This, then, may serve for the general rule as to place and time. - -But opportunities are often offered by a man himself, and no one who -cares for his friend should let these occasions slip or omit to use -them. Sometimes a question asked, a story told, blame or praise of a -similar action in the case of other people, gives you the cue for a -piece of plain-speaking. For instance, the story goes that Demaratus -visited Macedonia at a time when [Sidenote: C] Philip was at variance -with his wife and son. Upon Philip welcoming him and inquiring how far -the Greeks were in harmony with each other, Demaratus—who was his -well-wisher and intimate friend—remarked, ‘It becomes you excellently, -Philip, to be asking about the harmonious relations of Athens and the -Peloponnese, while you allow your own house to be so full of feud and -discord.’ A good hit was also made by Diogenes. Philip was on his way to -fight the Greeks, and Diogenes, who had entered the camp, was brought -before him. Philip, being unacquainted with him, asked him if he was a -spy. ‘Certainly I am,’ he replied. ‘I am a spy upon the short-sighted -foolishness which induces you to come, without any compulsion, and risk -[Sidenote: D] your throne and person upon the cast of a single hour.’ -This, however, was perhaps somewhat too forcible. - -Another good opportunity for admonition occurs when a man has been -abused for his mistakes by some one else and is feeling small and -humbled. A person of discretion will make a happy use of the occasion by -sending the abusive parties to the right about and himself taking his -friend in hand, reminding him that, if there is no other reason for -being careful, he should at least give his enemies no encouragement. -‘How can they open their mouths or say another word, if you cast aside -once for [Sidenote: E] all these faults for which they abuse you?’ By -this means the abuser gets the credit of the pain, and the admonisher -that of the benefit. - -Some are more subtle. They convert their familiar friends by blaming -some one else, accusing others of the things they know that those -friends do. Once at a lecture in the afternoon our professor, Ammonius, -aware that some of his class had not lunched as simply as they might, -ordered his freedman to give his own boy a whipping, on the charge that -‘he must have vinegar with his lunch’. Meanwhile the glance he threw at -us brought the reproach home to the guilty parties. - -In the next place, we should be cautious of speaking plainly to a friend -before company. Remember the case of Plato. [Sidenote: F] Socrates -having handled one of his associates somewhat vigorously in conversation -at table, Plato remarked, ‘Would it not have been better if this had -been said in private?’ ‘And,’ retorted Socrates, ‘would you not have -done better if you had said that to _me_ in private?’ The story goes -that, when Pythagoras once dealt rather roughly with a pupil before a -number of persons, the youth hanged himself, and from that time -Pythagoras never again reproved anyone in another’s presence. A fault -should be treated like a humiliating complaint. The uncovering and -[Sidenote: 71] prescribing should be secret, not an ostentatious display -to a gathering of witnesses or spectators. It is not the act of a -friend, but of a sophist, to use another’s slips to glorify oneself, -showing off before the company like those medical men who perform -surgical operations in the theatre in order to advertise themselves. And -apart from the insult—which has no right to accompany any curative -treatment—we have to consider the contentiousness and obstinacy of a man -in the wrong. Not merely is it the case that—as Euripides has it— - - _Love, when reproved, - Is but more tyrannous_, - -[Sidenote: B] but if you make no scruple about offering reproof in -public, you drive any moral disease or passion into becoming shameless. -Plato insists that, if old men are to inculcate reverence in the young, -they must themselves first show reverence towards the young. In the same -way the friendly candour which most abashes is that which itself feels -abashed. Let it be gently and considerately that you approach and handle -the offender; then you undermine and destroy his vice, since regard is -contagiously felt where regard is shown. Excellent, therefore, is the -notion: - - _Putting his head close down, to the end that the rest should not - hear it._ - -[Sidenote: C] Least propriety of all is there in exposing a husband in -the hearing of the wife, a father before the eyes of his children, a -lover in the presence of the beloved, or a teacher in that of his -pupils. He becomes frantic; so sore and angry is he at being set right -before persons in whose eyes he is all anxiety to shine. When Cleitus -enraged Alexander, it was, I imagine, not so much the fault of the wine -as that he appeared to be humbling him before a large company. Another -case is that of Aristomenes, the tutor[54] of Ptolemy. Once, when an -embassy was in the room, Ptolemy fell asleep and Aristomenes gave him a -hit to wake him up. The flatterers seized the opportunity, and affected -to be indignant on the king’s behalf. ‘If,’ said [Sidenote: D] they, -‘you did drop off, thanks to hard work and want of sleep, we ought to -set you right privately, not lay hands on you before so many people.’ As -the result, he sent Aristomenes a cup of poison and ordered him to drink -it off. Aristophanes also tells us how Cleon tried to exasperate the -Athenians against him by making it a charge that he - - _Abused the country before foreigners._ - -This, then, is another of the mistakes to be avoided, if your desire is -not so much to make a self-advertising display as to make your candour -produce helpful and healing results. - -In the next place, your plain-speaker ought to bear in mind [Sidenote: -E] the principle which Thucydides makes the Corinthians so properly -express, in saying that they ‘had a right to find fault’ with others. It -was Lysander, I believe, who said to the man from Megara, when he was -delivering himself at the Federal Council concerning the interests of -Greece, ‘You need a country to back your talk.’ In any case, doubtless, -you need character for plain-speaking, but in no case is this so true as -when you are admonishing and lecturing other people. Plato used to say -that it was by his life he admonished Speusippus, and the mere sight of -Xenocrates at lecture, and a glance from him, [Sidenote: F] sufficed to -convert Polemon to better ways. When we lack weight and strength of -character the result of any attempt at plain-speaking on our part is to -draw upon ourselves the words: - - _Why physic us, thyself one mass of sores?_ - -Nevertheless it often happens that, though a man’s own character is as -weak as that of his neighbour, circumstances drive him to administer -reproof. In that case the civillest behaviour is to contrive somehow to -imply that the speaker is included in the reproach. In this tone are the -words: - - _Tydeus’ son, what ails us, forgetting our prowess and valour?_ - -[Sidenote: 72] and: - - _But no match are we now for Hector alone...._ - -Socrates’ way of quietly setting young men right was of the same kind. -He would not be taken as being himself free from ignorance, but as -feeling it a duty to share with them in the cultivation of virtue and -the quest of truth. We inspire affection and confidence when it is -thought that, being equally to blame, we are applying to our friends the -same correction as to ourselves. But if, when rebuking your neighbour, -you put on the superior air of a flawless and passionless being, unless -you are much the senior or possess an acknowledged eminence of character -and reputation, you do no good and only make yourself [Sidenote: B] -offensive and a nuisance. For this reason, when Phoenix introduced the -story of his own misfortunes—how in anger he set to work to kill his -father, but speedily repented: - - _Lest the Achaeans should name me ‘the man who murdered his - father’_— - -it was of set purpose, that it might not seem as if, in reproving -Achilles, he claimed to be an impeccable person whom anger had no power -to corrupt. In such cases the moral effect sinks in, since we yield more -readily to a show of fellow-feeling than to one of contempt. - -Another point. Since a mind diseased can no more bear unqualified -candour and reproof than an inflamed eye can [Sidenote: C] be submitted -to a brilliant light, one most useful resource among our remedies is to -add a slight tincture of praise. For example: - - _Ugly is this that ye do, to cease from your valour and prowess, - All ye best of the host! I would not move me to quarrel, - If ’twere some other who thus might hold his hand from the fighting, - Some craven man; but with you is my heart exceedingly anger’d_: - -or: - - _Pandarus, where is thy bow, and where thy feathery arrows? - Where thy glory, the which no man among us doth challenge?_ - -If a man is giving way, there is also a vigorous rallying power in such -language as - - _Where now - Is Oedipus and all his far-famed rede?_ - -or: - - _Is ‘t Heracles, - He who hath borne so many a brunt, speaks thus?_ - -Not only does it temper the harshness of the punishment [Sidenote: D] -inflicted by the reproach; it sets a man at rivalry with himself. When -reminded of the things which stand to his credit, he is ashamed of those -which degrade him, and he finds an elevating example in his own person. -But when we make comparisons with others—with mates, fellow citizens, or -kinsmen—the contentiousness which belongs to his failings is piqued and -exacerbated. It has a habit of retorting angrily, ‘Then why don’t you go -to my betters, instead of harassing _me_?’ We must therefore beware of -belauding one person while we are speaking our minds to another—always, -of course, with the exception of his parents. Thus Agamemnon can say: - - _Truly, a son little like to himself hath Tydeus begotten_; - -[Sidenote: E] or Odysseus, when in Scyrus: - - _But thou o’ersham’st the brilliance of thy race, - Wool-spinner! thou, whose sire was Greece’s hero!_ - -By no means should we use reproof to answer reproof, or plain-speaking -in counter-attack to plain-speaking. Otherwise we quickly produce heat -and create a quarrel. Moreover, such disputatiousness is naturally -regarded, not as a return of candour, [Sidenote: F] but as intolerance -of it. It is better, therefore, to listen with a good grace when a -friend believes he is reproving you. For this, if at a later time some -offence of his own calls for reprobation, is the very thing which gives -your plain-speaking its right—as it were—to speak. When, without bearing -any grudge, you remind him that it has not been his own habit to let his -friends go wrong, but to teach them better and set them right, he will -be the more ready to give in and accept the proffered correction; for he -will believe that it is good feeling and good intention, not anger and -fault-finding, which prompt this payment in return. - -[Sidenote: 73] In the next place, remember the saying of Thucydides: -‘Well advised is he who accepts unpopularity in a great cause.’ It is -the duty of a friend to accept the odium of reproof when questions of -great moment are at stake. But if he is everywhere and always being -displeased; if he behaves to his intimates as if he were their tutor and -not their friend, his reproofs will possess no edge and produce no -effect when it comes to matters of importance. He will have frittered -away his candour, after the manner of a physician who takes a pungent or -bitter drug [Sidenote: B] of a sovereign and costly character, and -parcels it out in a large number of petty doses for which there is no -necessity. No! while a friend will, for his own part, carefully avoid -such unremitting censoriousness, the incessant niggling and pettifogging -of some other person will afford him an opening to attack those faults -which are more serious. Once when a man with an ulcerated liver showed -the physician Philotimus a sore on his finger, the doctor observed, ‘My -good sir, your case is not a matter of a whitlow!’ So when some one is -finding fault with a number of insignificant peccadilloes, the real -friend will be offered the opportunity of saying to him, ‘What have his -tippling and foolery to do with us? My good sir, let our friend here -dismiss his mistress or stop dicing, and he is otherwise an admirable -fellow.’ If a man finds that allowance is made [Sidenote: C] for his -trifling errors, he will take it in good part when a friend speaks his -mind against those which are of more moment. But to be everlastingly -girding, to be bitter and harsh on all occasions, to be continually -meddling and taking cognisance of every action, is intolerable even to a -child or a brother, nay, unendurable even to a slave. - -Again, it is no more true of the folly of our friends than it is—despite -Euripides—of old age, that - - _All things are wrong with it._ - -Our friends have their right actions, and we should keep an eye upon -these no less than upon their errors. We should, in fact, begin by -zealously praising them. In dealing with iron we have first to soften it -with heat before the chilling process [Sidenote: D] can impart to it the -consistency and hardness of steel. So with our friends. First we warm -and fuse them with praise; then a quiet application of candour serves as -a tempering douche. We have, for instance, the opportunity of saying, -‘Is there any comparison between the other conduct and this? Do you see -what good fruit comes of doing the right thing? This is what your -friends expect of you; it is like you, and what nature meant you for. -The other conduct is abominable; away with it - - _To the mountain or to the wave of the surging tumultuous ocean!_‘ - -A sensible physician will always rather cure a sick man with sleep and -feeding than with castor and scammony; and a right-minded friend, or a -kind father or teacher, prefers to use praise [Sidenote: E] rather than -blame as his means of moral correction. For a candid friend to cause -least pain and work most benefit, there is nothing like showing the -least possible anger and treating the offender with polite good feeling. -We must not, therefore, sharply confute him if he denies a thing, nor -try to stop him if he defends himself. On the contrary, we must help him -to contrive some kind of plausible excuse; and, when he refuses to own -to the more discreditable motive, we must ourselves concede him a less -heinous one. Thus Hector says to his brother: - - _Not well is this wrath, foolish man, that thus thou hast stored in - thy bosom_, - -[Sidenote: F] as if his retirement from the battle, instead of being a -dastardly running away, was an exhibition of temper. So Nestor to -Agamemnon: - - _Thou didst yield to the pride of thy spirit._ - -It is manifestly more courteous to say, ‘You did not stop to think,’ or, -‘You failed to perceive,’ than ‘You behaved badly’, or ‘You behaved -unfairly’; to say, ‘Do not be hard upon [Sidenote: 74] your brother,’ -than ‘Do not be jealous of your brother’; to say, ‘Flee from the woman’s -seductions,’ than ‘Stop trying to seduce the woman’. This is the manner -cultivated by curative [Sidenote: *] candour; the other belongs to -vexatious candour. - -Suppose a person is about to do wrong and that we are called upon to -check him—to stem the current of some vehement impulse. Or suppose that -he is inclined to be unready in the performance of duty, and we wish to -brace him up and stimulate him. We should do so by making charges which -put the matter in an outrageously unbecoming light. For instance, in -Sophocles, when Odysseus is working upon Achilles, he makes out, not -that Achilles is angry at the affair of the banquet, but [Sidenote: B] - - _Now that thou hast the Trojan burghs in sight, - Thou art afraid._ - -And when, in answer to this, Achilles is so enraged that he declares he -is off home: - - _I know what ’tis thou flyest—not reproach: - Hector is nigh, and ’tis not well to stay._ - -In inciting to high courses and dissuading from low ones, we may -frighten a man with the reputation he will win: a man of courage and -spirit with that of coward; a man of temperance and self-control with -that of profligate; a man of magnificent generosity with that of miser -and cheeseparer. Where a thing is past cure, we must show ourselves -reasonable; our candour [Sidenote: C] must display more sorrow and -sympathy than blame. But when we are preventing a misdeed or fighting -against a passion, we must be vigorous, inflexible, and insistent. Then -is the right moment for incorruptible affection and genuine frankness. - -To blame an action when it is done is no more than we find enemies doing -to each other. Diogenes used to say that, if you are to be kept right, -you must possess either good friends or red-hot enemies. The one will -warn you, the other will expose you. But it is better to avoid errors by -taking advice than to repent of an error because of abuse. For this -reason [Sidenote: D] we must study tact even in the matter of candour. -As it is the most effective drug that can be employed in friendship, so -it stands in most need of unfailing discretion as to time and moderation -as to strength. - -And, finally, since, as I have said, it is in the nature of -plain-speaking that it should often cause pain to the person under -treatment, we must take a pattern by the medical man. He does not use -his lancet and then leave the part to suffer; he eases it with gentle -lotions and fomentations. Similarly, if our admonitions are to be -tactful, we do not administer a sharp sting and then run away. We adopt -a different strain, and soothe [Sidenote: E] and calm the patient with -courteous language, much as sculptors put smoothness and gloss upon a -statue where they have chipped it with hammer and chisel. If we strike -and gash a man with plain-speaking and then leave him in the rough—lumpy -and uneven with anger—it is a hard matter afterwards to call him back -and smooth him over. This, therefore, is a result against which the -admonisher must be especially on his guard. He must not leave the -patient too soon, nor allow the last words of his conversation to be -such as pain and exasperate his intimate friend. - -Footnote 48: - - i.e. a rough and mountainous island. - -Footnote 49: - - A ‘satyric’ drama was a half-comic interlude or sequel to tragedies. - -Footnote 50: - - In the Stoic sense of _adiaphoria_. - -Footnote 51: - - Since diagrams were often drawn with sticks in the dust. - -Footnote 52: - - The Greek jest does not admit of translation. The same word may mean - both ‘theft’ and a ‘stealthy act’. - -Footnote 53: - - The point lies in an ambiguity which is possible only in the Greek. - The words may equally mean: ‘You issued no invitation when sacrificing - your friends,’ and ‘when sacrificing, you did not invite your - friends’. - -Footnote 54: - - Or what French would call the _gouverneur_. - - - - - ON BRINGING UP A BOY[55] - - -I propose to offer some remarks upon the bringing-up of [Sidenote: 1] -free-born children, as a means of securing soundness of character. - -Perhaps the best starting-point is that at which they are brought into -existence. - -Upon one who desires to become the father of reputable [Sidenote: B] -children I would urge that he should be careful as to his consort. She -must be no mistress or concubine. Base birth, whether on mother’s or -father’s side, is an indelible reproach. It sticks to a man all the days -of his life; it offers a handle to those who are minded to discredit or -vilify him; and it is a wise saying of the poet that - - _When the foundation of a stock is laid - Amiss, needs must the issue be unhappy_. - -A sure fund of confidence for facing the world lies therefore in -honourable birth, and this must be a first consideration with all who -are anxious for a right and proper procreation of children. - -It is quite natural that those whose birth is of base metal which will -not bear scrutiny should tend to be weak-spirited and abject. The poet -is quite right in saying: [Sidenote: C] - - _It slaves a man, stout-hearted though he be, - To know his mother or his father base._ - -It is no doubt equally the case that persons of distinguished parentage -become full of pride and self-assertion. Thus Themistocles’ son, -Diophantus, is reported to have said on many occasions and to many -persons that he had only to wish for a thing and the Athenian people -voted for it. ‘What he liked, [Sidenote: D] his mother liked; what his -mother liked, Themistocles liked; and what Themistocles liked, all -Athens liked.’ - -A most praiseworthy pride was that exhibited by the Lacedaemonians, when -they mulcted their own king Archidamus for condescending to marry a -woman of small stature, their plea being that he intended to provide -them with kinglets instead of kings. - -In this connexion there is one observation which my predecessors also -have duly made. It is that those who approach their wives with a view to -offspring should do so either while wholly abstaining from wine or at -least after tasting it in moderation. [Sidenote: 2] This explains the -remark of Diogenes on seeing a youth in a state of mad excitement: -‘Young fellow, your father begat you when he was drunk.’ - -So much for the question of birth. We will now turn to that of -upbringing. - -Speaking generally, we must say of virtue what it is customary to say of -the arts and sciences—that for right action three things must go -together, namely, nature, reason, and habit. By reason I mean -instruction; by habit I mean exercise. The [Sidenote: B] first elements -come from nature; progress, from instruction; the actual use, from -practice; the consummation, from all combined. In so far as any of these -is defective, character must necessarily be maimed. Nature without -instruction is blind; instruction without nature is futile; practice -without both is abortive. In farming, the soil must first be good; next, -the farmer must know his business; third, the seeds must be sound. -Similarly with education. Nature is the soil, the teacher is the farmer, -[Sidenote: C] the lessons and precepts are the seed. It may be -confidently asserted that all three were harmoniously blended in the -souls of those men whose renown is universal—Pythagoras, Socrates, -Plato, and others who have won imperishable glory. - -Blest indeed, and divinely favoured, is the man on whom Heaven has -bestowed each and all. Yet it would be a great, or rather a total, -mistake to suppose that, when natural gift is defective, no right moral -instruction and practice will lead one to improve his faulty nature in -some attainable degree. For while neglect will ruin an excellent natural -gift, teaching will correct an inferior one. Be careless, and you miss a -thing, however easy: take pains, and you secure it, however difficult. -You have only to glance at a number of everyday facts in order -[Sidenote: D] to perceive how complete is the success of persistent -effort. Drops of water will hollow a rock; iron and bronze are worn away -by the touch of the hands; wood bent by pressure into a carriage-wheel -can never recover its original straightness. To straighten the curved -sticks used by actors is impossible, the unnatural form having become, -by dint of straining, stronger than the natural. - -Nor are these the only examples to prove the efficacy of painstaking. -Instances are countless. Soil may be naturally [Sidenote: E] good; but -neglect it, and it becomes a waste. Indeed, the better it is by nature, -the more hopeless a wilderness will your neglect make of it. On the -other hand, it may be too hard and rugged; yet cultivation will speedily -cause it to produce excellent crops. Is there any tree which will not -grow crooked and cease to bear fruit if left untended, whereas, when -properly trained, it bears well and brings its fruit to perfection? Does -not bodily strength invariably become effete when you take your ease and -neglect to keep in good condition, whereas a feeble physique gains -immensely in strength through gymnastic and athletic exercise? Is there -any horse which a rider cannot render obedient by [Sidenote: F] a -thorough breaking-in, whereas, if left unbroken, it will prove -stiff-necked and full of temper? - -But why dwell longer on such cases, when there are so many examples of -the most savage creatures being tamed and made amenable to hard work? - -When a Thessalian was asked which of his countrymen were the gentlest in -manner, his answer was a good one: _Those who are giving up war._ But it -is useless to multiply instances. Character is long-standing habit, and -it would scarcely be beside [Sidenote: 3] the mark to speak of the -virtues of the mind as the virtues ‘of minding’.[56] One more -illustration, and we will dispense with further elaboration of the -subject. The Spartan legislator Lycurgus once took two puppies belonging -to the same parents and brought them up in entirely different ways. The -one he turned into a gluttonous good-for-nothing, the other into a keen -and capable hunting-dog. Subsequently he got the Lacedaemonians together -and said to them: ‘A great factor [Sidenote: B] in engendering virtue -consists of habit and education—of instruction in the conduct of life—as -I am about to prove to you here and now.’ He then brought forward the -two young dogs, put down directly in front of them a plate of food and a -hare, and let the dogs loose; whereupon the one darted after the hare, -while the other made for the plate. The Lacedaemonians, who were not yet -in the secret, failed to perceive the meaning of his demonstration, -until he told them: ‘Both these dogs come from the same parents, but the -difference in their education has turned the one into a glutton and the -other into a hunter.’ - -No more need be said of habit and conduct of life. We may [Sidenote: C] -proceed to the question of nurture. - -In my opinion mothers should nurse their own children and offer them the -breast; for their nursing will be of a more sympathetic and painstaking -kind, since their love is from the heart, or, as the saying goes, ‘down -to the finger-tips,’ whereas the affection of professional nurses and -foster-mothers—who are paid for it—can only be spurious and factitious. -That it is the duty of the mother herself to suckle and nurse her -offspring is evident from the arrangement of nature, which has supplied -every animal after parturition with the necessary provision of milk. -Here Providence further shows its wisdom, inasmuch as it has furnished a -woman with a pair of breasts, [Sidenote: D] so that, even if she bears -twins, there may be a double source for them to draw upon. Moreover she -will by so acting become more tender and affectionate to her child. It -can, indeed, scarcely be otherwise; the connexion of nurse and nursling -is the means of raising affection to its highest pitch. One can see how -even a brute beast will yearn for its nursling, if you tear them apart. - -If possible, then, the mother should endeavour to nurse the child -herself. But if—as may sometimes happen—she is prevented by physical -weakness, or if other children are speedily on the way, it is at least -desirable not to accept as foster-mother or nurse the first that offers, -but to choose the best possible. [Sidenote: E] To begin with, her -character should be Greek. It is as with the treatment of the body. As -soon as children are born, we have to mould their limbs in order that -they may grow straight and shapely. Similarly their characters ought to -be regulated from the first. For youth is supple and plastic, and it is -while the mind is still soft and yielding that it acts as a mould for -instruction, whereas it is always difficult to knead into shape -[Sidenote: F] anything hard. As it is in soft wax that we make the -impression of a seal, so it is in the minds of those who are still -little children that we imprint a lesson. - -That great thinker Plato is right, it seems to me, in exhorting a nurse -to use discretion in the tales she tells to young children; otherwise -their minds may become infected from the first with folly and -corruption. It is also sound advice which the poet Phocylides gives in -the words: - - _While yet but a child, it behoveth - To learn such deeds as are good._ - -Another point which we cannot afford to omit concerns the slave children -who are to serve the young master and to be brought up with him. Pains -must be taken, first, of course, that [Sidenote: 4] they shall be -well-behaved, but also that they shall talk Greek, and talk it with good -articulation. Otherwise, through rubbing against barbarians and bad -characters, he will pick up something of their vices. The proverb-makers -have good reason for saying: _If you have a lame man for a neighbour, -you will learn to limp._ - -When children reach the age to be put under a mentor, it becomes -especially necessary to take pains in the appointment of such a person. -Otherwise we shall have them entrusted to some uncivilized or rascally -fellow. What actually happens [Sidenote: B] is often in the highest -degree absurd. Respectable slaves are made into farmers, skippers, -traders, stewards, or money-lenders, while any low specimen who is found -to be a glutton and a tippler and of no use in any kind of business is -taken and put in charge of the sons. A fit and proper attendant should -possess the same qualities of mind as Phoenix, the attendant of -Achilles. - -We now reach a topic more important and vital than any yet treated—that -of the right teachers for our children. The kind to be sought for are -those whose lives are irreproachable, whose characters are unimpugned, -and whose skill and experience [Sidenote: C] are of the best. The root -or fountain-head of character as a man and a gentleman lies in receiving -the proper education. As farmers put stakes beside their plants, so the -right kind of teacher provides firm support for the young in the shape -of lessons and admonitions, carefully chosen so as to produce an upright -growth of character. - -As things are, the behaviour of some fathers is contemptible. Before -making inquiry as to the proposed teachers, they put their children into -the hands of frauds and charlatans, without knowing what they are about, -or, maybe, because they are not competent to judge. In the latter case -their behaviour is not so ridiculous, but there is another case in which -it is in the last degree absurd. I mean, when they know, either from -their own [Sidenote: D] observation or from the accounts of others, how -ignorant and [Sidenote: *] bad certain educators are, and yet entrust -their children to them. Sometimes this is because they cannot resist the -fawning of some obsequious flatterer; sometimes it is done to gratify -the whim of a friend. It would be just as reasonable for a sick man to -gratify a friend by rejecting the doctor whose science could save him, -and preferring the ignoramus who will kill him; or for a man to dismiss -the best ship’s-captain and appoint the worst, because a friend asked -for it. In the name of all that is sacred, can any one called a ‘father’ -set the pleasing of [Sidenote: E] somebody who asks a favour above the -education of his children? There was good sense in a frequent saying of -famous old Socrates, ‘If it could be done, one ought to mount the -loftiest part of the city and shout: _Good people, what are you after? -Why in such deadly earnest about making money, while troubling so little -about the sons to whom you are to leave it?_’ We may add that the -conduct of such fathers is like that of a man who is anxious as to his -shoe, while his foot may look after itself. Many fathers go to such -lengths in the way of fondness for their money and [Sidenote: F] want of -fondness for their children, that, to avoid paying a larger fee, they -choose utterly worthless persons to educate their sons, their object -being an inexpensive ignorance. This reminds one of Aristippus and his -neat and witty repartee to a foolish father. Questioned as to what fee -he asked for educating the child, he replied, ‘Forty pounds.’ ‘Good -heavens!’ said the father: ‘What an extravagant demand! For forty pounds -I can buy a slave.’ ‘Very well,’ was the answer: ‘then you [Sidenote: 5] -will have two slaves—your son, and the one you buy.’ - -To put it shortly, it is surely absurd to train little children to -receive their food with the right hand, and to scold them if they put -out the left, and yet to take no precautions that they shall be taught -moral lessons of a sound and proper kind. - -What the consequence is to these admirable fathers, when they bring up -their sons badly and educate them badly, is soon told. On coming of age -and taking rank as men, the sons show an utter disregard of a wholesome -and orderly life, and throw themselves headlong into low and irregular -pleasures. Then [Sidenote: B] at last, when it is of no use, and when -their wrongdoing has brought him to his wits’ end, the father repents of -having sacrificed his children’s education. Some of them take up with -toadies and parasites, wretched nondescripts who are the ruin and bane -of youth; others with haughty and expensive mistresses and strumpets, -whom they ransom from their employers. Some spend recklessly on -gormandizing; some are wrecked upon dice and carousals; some go so far -as to venture on the more daring vices—they commit adultery, and think -death not too much [Sidenote: C] to pay for a single pleasure. Had these -last studied philosophy, they would in all probability not have -succumbed to temptation of this kind. They would have been told of the -advice of Diogenes—who, however coarse in his language, is right in his -facts—‘Go to a brothel, my boy, and you will find that the [Sidenote: *] -expensive article is not a bit better than the cheap one.’ - -In brief, then, I assert—and it would be fairer to regard me as -repeating an oracle than as giving advice—that in these matters the one -and essential thing, the first, middle, and last, is a sound upbringing -and right education. It is this, I say, which leads to virtue and -happiness. - -[Sidenote: D] Other blessings are on the human plane; they are slight -and not worth serious pursuit. Good birth is a distinction, but the boon -depends on one’s ancestors. Wealth is a prize, but its possession -depends on fortune, which often carries it off from those who have it -and bestows it on those who never hoped for it. Moreover, great wealth -is a target exposed to any rogue of a servant or blackmailer who is -minded to ‘aim a purse’ at it. And, worst of all, even the basest of men -have their share of it. Fame, again, is imposing, but uncertain. Beauty, -though greatly courted, is short-lived; health, though highly prized, is -unstable; strength is a thing to be envied, but it falls an easy prey to -disease and age. Let us tell any one who prides himself [Sidenote: E] on -his bodily strength that he is manifestly under a delusion. How small a -fraction is human strength of the might of other animals, such as the -elephant, the bull, and the lion! - -Meanwhile culture is the only thing in us that is immortal and divine. -In the nature of man there are two sovereign elements—understanding and -reason. It is the place of the understanding to direct the reason and of -the reason to serve the understanding. Fortune cannot overcome them, -calumny cannot rob us of them, disease cannot corrupt them, old age -cannot impair them. The understanding is the only thing that renews its -youth as it grows old, and, while time carries off everything else, it -brings old age one gift—that of knowledge. When, again, war comes like a -torrent, tearing and sweeping everything away, it is of our mental -culture alone that it cannot rob us. Stilpo, the Megarian philosopher, -made what seems a memorable answer when Demetrius, after enslaving the -city and razing it to the ground, asked him if he had lost anything. ‘O -no!’ said he, ‘for virtue is not made spoil of war.’ The reply of -Socrates is evidently to the same tune and purpose. [Sidenote: 6] It was -Gorgias, I believe, who asked him his opinion of the Great King, and -whether he considered him happy. ‘I have no knowledge,’ said Socrates, -‘as to the state of his character and culture.’ He assumed that -happiness depended upon these, and not upon the gifts of fortune. - -Not only should the education of our children be treated as of the very -first importance, but I once more urge that we should insist upon its -being of the sound and genuine kind. From pretentious nonsense our sons -should be kept as far aloof [Sidenote: B] as possible. To please the -many is to displease the wise, an assertion in which I have the support -of Euripides: - - _I am not deft of words before the crowd, - More skilled when with my compeers and the few. - ’Tis compensation: they who ‘mid the wise - Are naught, surpass in gift of speech to mobs._ - -My own observation tells me that persons who make a business of speaking -in a way to please and curry favour with the rabble, generally prove -correspondingly dissolute and pleasure-loving in their lives. Nor, -indeed, should we expect anything else; for if they have no regard to -propriety when catering for the [Sidenote: C] gratification of other -people, it is not likely that they will permit right and sound -principles to have the upper hand of their own voluptuous -self-indulgence, nor that they will cultivate self-control rather than -enjoyment. - -[Sidenote: *] And how can children learn from them anything admirable? -Among admirable things is the practice of neither saying nor doing -anything at random; and, as the proverb goes, ‘admirable things are -difficult.’ Meanwhile, speeches made offhand are a mass of reckless -slovenliness, without a notion where to begin or where to end. - -Apart from other faults, extempore speakers drop into a terrible -prolixity and verbiage, whereas premeditation keeps [Sidenote: D] a -speech safe within the lines of due proportion. When Pericles, ‘as -tradition informs us,’ was called upon by the assembly, he frequently -refused the call, on the ground that his thoughts were ‘not arranged’. -Demosthenes, who took him for his own political model, acted in the same -way. If the Athenians called upon him to address them, he would resist, -with the words, ‘I have not arranged my thoughts.’ This, it is true, may -be unauthentic and a fabrication; but in the speech against Meidias we -have an explicit statement as to the advantage of preparation. His words -are: ‘_I admit, gentlemen, that I come prepared; and I have no wish to -deny it. I have even conned over my speech to the best of my poor -ability. It would have been insane conduct, if, after and amid such -harsh treatment, I had paid no regard to what I meant to say to you on -the subject._’ - -That impromptu speaking should be rejected altogether, or, [Sidenote: E] -failing this, that it should be practised only on unimportant subjects, -I do not say. I am recommending a tonic regimen. Before manhood, I claim -that there should be no speaking on the spur of the moment. But when the -ability has taken firm root, it is only right for speech to enjoy free -play as occasion invites. Though persons who have been in prison for a -long time may subsequently be liberated, they are unsteady on their -feet, [Sidenote: F] a protracted habit of wearing chains making them -unable to step out. Similarly if those who have for a long time kept -their speaking under close constraint some day find it necessary to -speak offhand, they nevertheless retain the same style of expression. -But to let mere children make extempore speeches is to become -responsible for the worst of twaddle and futility. There is a story of a -wretched painter who showed Apelles a picture, with the remark, ‘I have -just painted this at one [Sidenote: 7] sitting.’ ‘I can see,’ said -Apelles, ‘without your telling me, that it has been quick work. But my -wonder is that you haven’t painted more than one as good.’ - -While (to return to the original matter in hand) we must be careful to -avoid a style which is theatrical and bombastic, we must be equally on -our guard against one which is low and trivial. If the turgid style is -unbusinesslike, too thin a style is ineffective. Just as the body should -be not only healthy but also in good condition, so language must be full -of strength [Sidenote: B] and not simply free from disease. Keep on the -safe side, and you are merely commended: face some risk, and you are -admired. I take the same view of the mental disposition also. One should -neither be over-bold, and so become brazen, nor yet timid and bashful, -and so become mean-spirited. The rule of art and taste is _The middle -course in all things_. - -[Sidenote: *] While I am still upon the subject of this part of -education there is an opinion which I desire to express. A style -consisting of single clauses I regard in the first instance as no slight -evidence of poor taste, and, in the next, as too finical a thing ever to -[Sidenote: C] be maintained in practice. Here, as in everything else -that caters for ear or eye, monotony is as cloying and irksome as -variety is delightful. - -There is no subject in the ‘regular curriculum’ of which the eye or ear -of a freeborn boy should be permitted to remain uninformed. But while he -receives a cursory education in those subjects in order to taste their -quality, the most important place—complete all-round proficiency being -impossible—must belong to philosophy. We may explain by a comparison -with [Sidenote: D] travel, in which it is an excellent thing to visit a -large number of cities, but good policy to settle in the best. As the -philosopher Bion wittily remarked, when the suitors could obtain no -access to Penelope they satisfied themselves with her handmaids, and -when a man is unable to get hold of philosophy he makes dry bones of -himself upon the remaining subjects, which are of no account. - -Philosophy, then, should be put at the head of all mental culture. The -services which have been invented for the care of the body are -two—medicine and gymnastics—the one imparting health, the other good -condition. But for the weaknesses and ailments of the soul philosophy is -the only thing to be prescribed. It is from and with philosophy that we -can tell what is becoming or disgraceful, what is just or unjust, -[Sidenote: E] what course, in short, is to be chosen or shunned. It -teaches us how to behave towards the Gods, our parents, our elders, the -laws, our rulers, friends, wives, children, and servants: that we should -worship the Gods, honour our parents, respect our elders, obey the laws, -give way to our rulers, love our friends, be continent towards our -wives, show affection to our children, and abstain from cruelty to our -slaves. Above all, it warns us against excess of joy when prosperous and -excess of grief when unfortunate; against dissoluteness in our -pleasures, or fury and brutality in our anger. These I judge to be chief -among [Sidenote: F] the blessings conferred by philosophy. To bear -adversity nobly is to act the brave man,[57] to bear prosperity -unassumingly, the [Sidenote: *] modest mortal. To get the better of -pleasures by reason needs wisdom; to master anger requires no ordinary -character. - -Perfect men I take to be those who can blend practical ability -[Sidenote: 8] with philosophy, and who can achieve both of two best and -greatest ends—the life of public utility as men of affairs, and the calm -and tranquil life as students of philosophy. For there are three kinds -of life: the life of action, the life of thought, and the life of -enjoyment. When life is dissolute and enslaved to pleasure, it is mean -and animal; when it is all thought and fails to act, it is futile; when -it is all action and destitute of philosophy, it is crude and -blundering. We should therefore do our best to engage both in public -business and in the pursuit [Sidenote: B] of philosophy, as occasion -offers. Of this kind was the public career of Pericles, of Archytas of -Tarentum, of Dion of Syracuse, and of Epaminondas of Thebes. Of these -Dion actually attached himself to Plato as his pupil. - -There is no need, I think, to deal at any greater length with mental -cultivation. It is, however, further desirable—or rather it is -essential—that we should not neglect to possess the standard treatises, -but should collect a stock of them, with the result of keeping our -knowledge from starvation.[58] Farmers stock [Sidenote: *] [their -fertilizers], and the employment of books is instrumental to culture in -the same way. - -[Sidenote: C] Meanwhile we must not omit to exercise the body also. Our -boys must be sent to the teacher of gymnastics and receive a sufficient -amount of physical training, both to secure a good carriage and also to -develop strength. Good condition is the foundation laid in childhood for -a hale old age, and, just as our preparations for wintry weather should -be made while it is fine, so we should store up provision for age in the -shape of regular and temperate behaviour in youth. Physical exertion -should, however, be so regulated that a boy does not become too -exhausted to devote himself sufficiently to mental culture. [Sidenote: -D] As Plato observes, sleep and weariness are the enemies of study. - -Upon this topic I need not dwell, but will pass on at once to the most -important consideration of all—the necessity of training a boy for -service as a fighting-man. For this he must go through hard drill in -hurling the javelin, in shooting with the bow, and in hunting. ‘The -goods of the vanquished,’ it has been said, ‘are prizes offered to the -victor.’ There is no place in war for the physical condition of the -cloister, and a lean soldier accustomed to warlike exercises will break -through [Sidenote: *] a phalanx of fleshy prize-fighters. - -[Sidenote: E] ‘Well but,’ some one may urge, ‘while you promised us a -set of rules for the upbringing of free men, it turns out that you have -nothing to say concerning that of poor and common people, but are -satisfied to confine your suggestions to the rich.’ There is a ready -reply to the objection. If possible, I should desire the proposed -education to be applicable to all alike. But if there are cases in which -limited private circumstances make it impossible to carry my rules into -practice, the blame should be laid upon fortune, not upon him who offers -the advice. Though a man is poor, he should make every possible effort -to bring up his children in the ideal way. Failing this, he must come as -near to it as he can. - -After thus encumbering our discussion with this side-issue, [Sidenote: -F] I will now proceed with the connected account of such other -[Sidenote: *] matters as contribute to the right upbringing of the -young. - -And first, children should be led into right practices of persuasion and -reasoning: flogging and bodily injury should be out of the question. -Such treatment is surely more fit for slaves than for the free, whom the -smart, or even the humiliation, of a beating deprives of all life and -spirit, making their tasks a horror to them. The freeborn find praise a -more effective [Sidenote: 9] stimulus to the right conduct, and blame a -more effective deterrent from the wrong, than any kind of bodily -assault. In the use of such praise and reprimand there should be a -subtle alternation. When a child is too bold, it should first be shamed -by reproof and then encouraged by a word of praise. We may take a -pattern by nurses, who may have to make an infant cry, but who -afterwards comfort it by offering it the breast. We must, however, avoid -puffing children up with eulogies, the consequence of excessive praise -being vanity and conceit. - -I have noticed more than one instance in which the over-fondness -[Sidenote: B] of a father has proved to be a lack of fondness. To make -my meaning clear, I will use an illustration. Being in too great haste -for their children to take first place in everything, they impose -extravagant tasks, which prove too great for their strength and end in -failure, besides causing them such weariness and distress that they -refuse to submit patiently to instruction. Water in moderation will make -a plant grow, while a flood of water will choke it. In the same way the -mind will thrive under [Sidenote: C] reasonably hard work, but will -drown if the work is excessive. We must therefore allow children -breathing-time from perpetual tasks, and remember that all our life -there is a division of relaxation and effort. Hence the existence of -sleep as well as waking, of peace as well as war, of fine weather as -well as bad, of holidays as well as business. In a word, it is rest that -seasons toil. The fact is obvious, not merely in the case of living -things, but in that of the inanimate world. We loosen a bow or a lyre, -so that we may be able to tighten it. In fine, the body is kept sound by -want and its satisfaction, the mind by relaxation and labour. - -[Sidenote: D] There are some fathers who have a culpable way of -entrusting their sons to attendants and teachers, and then entirely -omitting to keep the instruction of such persons under their own eye or -ear. This is a most serious failure in their duty. Every few days they -should personally examine their children, instead of confiding in the -character of a hireling, whose attention to his pupils will be more -conscientious if he is to be brought continually to book. In this -connexion there is aptness in the groom’s dictum that _nothing is so -fattening to a horse as the eye of the king_. - -[Sidenote: E] Above all things one should train and exercise a child’s -memory. Memory serves as the storehouse of culture, and hence the fable -that Recollection is the mother of the Muses—an indirect way of saying -that memory is the best thing in the world to beget and foster wisdom. -Whether children are naturally gifted with a good memory, or, on the -contrary, are naturally forgetful, the memory should be trained in -either case. The natural advantage will be strengthened, or the natural -shortcoming made up. The former class will excel others, the latter will -excel themselves. As Hesiod well puts it: [Sidenote: F] - - _If to the thing that is little you further add but a little, - And do the same oft and again, full soon it becometh a great thing._ - -This, then, is another fact for fathers to recognize—that the mnemonic -element in education plays a most important part, not only in culture, -but also in the business of life, inasmuch as the recollection of past -experience serves as a guide to wise policy for the future. - -Our sons must also be kept from the use of foul language. ‘The word,’ -says Democritus, ‘is the shadow of the deed.’ More than that, we must -render them polite and courteous, [Sidenote: 10] for there is nothing so -detestable as a boorish character. One way in which children may avoid -becoming disagreeable to their company is by refraining from absolute -stubbornness in discussion. Credit is to be gained not merely by -victory, but also by knowing how to accept defeat where victory is -harmful. There is unquestionably such a thing as a ‘Cadmean victory’. _À -propos_ I may quote the testimony of that wise poet Euripides: -[Sidenote: B] - - _When two men speak, and one is full of anger, - Wiser the one who strives not to reply._ - -This is the time to remember certain other habits quite as necessary—and -more so—for the young to cultivate as any yet mentioned. These are -modesty of behaviour, restraint of the tongue, mastery of the temper, -and control of the hands. Let us see how important each of them is. We -may take an illustration to bring home the notion more clearly. And we -will begin with the last. There have been those who, by lowering their -hands to ill-gotten gains, have thrown away all the reputation won by -their previous career. This was the case with the Lacedaemonian, -Gylippus, who was driven into exile from Sparta [Sidenote: C] for -secretly broaching the money-bags. Absence of anger, again, is a quality -of wisdom. Socrates once received a kick from a very impudent and gross -young buffoon, but on seeing that his own friends were in such a violent -state of indignation that they wanted to prosecute him, he remarked: ‘If -a donkey had kicked me, would you have condescended to kick him back?’ -The fellow did not, however, get off scot-free, but finding himself -universally reproached and nicknamed ‘Kicker’, he hanged himself. When -Aristophanes brought out the _Clouds_, and poured all manner of abuse -upon Socrates, one of those present asked: ‘Pray, are you not indignant -at his ridiculing you in this manner?’ [Sidenote: D] ‘Not I, indeed,’ -replied Socrates; ‘this banter in the theatre is only in a big convivial -party.’ A close counterpart of this attitude will be found in the -behaviour of Plato and of Archytas of Tarentum. When the latter, on his -return from the war in which he had held command, found that his land -had gone out of cultivation, he summoned his manager and remarked: ‘You -would have suffered for this, if I had not been too angry.’ When Plato, -again, was once worked into a passion with a greedy and impudent slave, -he called his sister’s son Speusippus and said, ‘Go and give this fellow -a thrashing: I am myself in a great passion.’ - -But, it may be argued, it is difficult to reach so high a standard -[Sidenote: E] as this. I am well aware of it. We can therefore only do -our best to take a pattern by such conduct, and minimize any tendency to -ungovernable rage. As in other matters, we are no match for either the -moral mastery or the finished character of those great models. -Nevertheless we may act towards them as we might towards the Gods, -serving as hierophants and torch-bearers of their wisdom and -endeavouring to imitate in our nibbling way as much as lies in our -power. - -As for the control of the tongue—the remaining point to be considered -according to our promise—any one who regards it as of trivial moment is -very much in the wrong. In a timely [Sidenote: F] silence there is a -wisdom superior to any speech. It is apparently for this reason that men -in old times invented our mystic rites and ceremonies. The notion was -that, through being trained to silence in connexion with these, we -should secure the keeping of human secrets by carrying into them the -same religious fear. Moreover, though multitudes have repented of -talking, no man has repented of silence, and while it is easy to utter -what has been kept back, it is impossible to recall what has been -uttered. - -My own reading affords countless instances of the greatest disasters -resulting from an ungoverned tongue. I will content [Sidenote: 11] -myself with mentioning one or two typical examples. When, upon the -marriage of Philadelphus with his sister, Sotades composed a scurrilous -verse, he paid ample atonement for talking out of season by rotting for -a long time in prison. He thus purchased a laugh in others by long -weeping of his own. The [Sidenote: *] story is closely matched by that -of the sophist Theocritus, who endured similar, but much more terrible, -consequences for a similar remark. Alexander had ordered the Greeks to -provide a stock of purple garments, with a view to the thanksgiving -[Sidenote: B] sacrifice on his return from his Persian victories, and -the various peoples were contributing at so much per head. Hereupon -Theocritus observed: ‘I have now become clear upon a point which used to -puzzle me. This is what is meant by Homer’s “purple death”‘—words which -earned him the enmity of Alexander. Antigonus, the Macedonian king, had -but one eye, and Theocritus made him excessively angry by a taunt at -this disfigurement. Eutropion, the chief cook, who had become a person -of importance, was sent to him by the king with a request that he would -come to court and engage him in argument. On receiving repeated visits -from Eutropion with this message, he [Sidenote: C] remarked, ‘I am well -aware that you want to dish me up raw to the Cyclops,’ thus twitting the -one with being disfigured, the other with being a cook. ‘Then,’ replied -Eutropion, ‘it will be without your head, for you shall be punished for -such mad and reckless language.’ Thereupon he reported the words to the -king, who sent and put Theocritus to death. - -The last and most sacred requirement is that children should be trained -to speak the truth. Lying is a servile habit; it deserves universal -detestation and is unpardonable even in a decent slave. - -[Sidenote: D] So far I have had no doubt or hesitation in what I have -said of the modesty and good behaviour of children. But upon the matter -which now calls for mention I am dubious and undecided, my judgement -swaying in the balance first one way and then the other, without finding -it possible to turn the scale in either direction. It concerns a -practice which I can neither recommend nor discountenance without great -reluctance. Nevertheless one must venture a word upon it. The question -is whether a man who is enamoured of a boy is to be allowed to keep -intimate [Sidenote: E] company with him, or whether, on the contrary, -association with such a person is to be tabooed. When I look at fathers -whose disposition is uncompromisingly harsh and austere, and who regard -such association as an intolerable insult to their children, I have many -scruples in recommending it or speaking in its favour. When, on the -other hand, I think of Socrates, Plato, Xenophon, Aeschines, Cebes, and -all those great men who have with one accord approved of love between -males, while they have led youths on to culture, to public leadership, -and to [Sidenote: F] a virtuous character, I change my mind and am -inclined to copy those great exemplars. Euripides is on their side, when -he says: - - _Nay, men may feel passion of other sort, - Love of a just, chaste, virtuous mind and soul._ - -Nor must we omit the saying of Plato, partly serious and partly -humorous, that those who have shown special excellence should have the -right to kiss any beautiful person they choose. The proper course is to -drive away those who are enamoured of the person, but, generally -speaking, give a sanction to those who are in love with the mind and -soul. While we must have nothing to say to the connexions in vogue at -Thebes or in Elis, or to the so-called ‘abduction’ of Crete, we may well -imitate that kind [Sidenote: 12] which is usual at Athens or in -Lacedaemon. - -On this matter it is for every man to hold such convictions as he has -formed for himself. I will now leave it, and, having spoken of the -discipline and good behaviour of the boy, will pass on to deal with the -age of adolescence. I shall do so in very few words, for I have often -expressed my disapproval of those who encourage vicious habits by -proposing to put a boy under the charge of tutors and teachers, whereas, -with a stripling, they would permit his inclinations to range at will. -As a matter of [Sidenote: B] fact, there is need of more anxious -precautions in the case of the stripling than in that of the boy. Every -one is aware that the faults committed by a boy are small matters, which -can be cured without difficulty—such as paying no heed to his tutor, or -trickery and inattention in school. But the sins of adolescence often -reach a flagrant and shocking pitch—stealing the father’s money, -gormandizing, dicing, roistering, drinking, loose passion for young -girls, or corruption of married women. The propensities of young manhood -ought therefore to be carefully watched and kept closely under the -chain. When capacity for [Sidenote: C] pleasure is at its prime, it -rejects control, kicks over the traces, and requires the curb. If -therefore we do not take a firm hold upon this time of life, we are -giving folly a licence to sin. This is the moment when wise fathers -should be most watchful and alert; when they should bring their lads -within bounds by warnings, threats, or entreaties, and by pointing out -instances of disaster caused by devotion to pleasure, and of praise and -good repute won by continence. These two things form what may be called -first principles of virtue, namely, hope of honour and fear of -punishment, the one producing a greater eagerness [Sidenote: D] for the -noblest pursuits, the other a shrinking from bad actions. - -One general rule of duty is to keep boys from associating with vicious -persons; otherwise they will pick up something of their vice. This has -been urged by Pythagoras among a number of dark sayings. Since these -also possess great value as aids to the attainment of virtue, I will -proceed to quote them, adding their explanation. _Do not taste -black-tails_[59]—keep no company with persons who are malignant and -therefore ‘black’. _Do not [Sidenote: E] step over a beam_—justice must -be scrupulously respected and not ‘overstepped’. _Do not sit on a -quart-measure_—beware of idleness, and see to the providing of daily -bread. _Do not clasp hands with every man_—we should form no sudden -connexions. _Do not wear a tight ring_—one should carry out the practice -of [Sidenote: *] life, and not fasten it to any chain. _Do not poke a -fire with iron_—do not irritate a wrathful man (the right course being -to let angry men go their own way). _Do not eat the heart_—do not injure -[Sidenote: F] the mind with worry and brooding. _Abstain from -beans_—avoid public life (office in former times being determined by -voting with beans). _Do not put victuals in a chamber-vessel_—clever -speech ought not to be put into a wicked mind, since speech, which is -the food of thought, is polluted by the wickedness in a man. _Do not -turn back on coming to the border_—when about to die, and with the end -of life close in sight, behave calmly and without losing heart. - -To return to the topic with which we were dealing before this -digression. While, as I observed, boys should be kept from every kind of -vicious company, especially should they be kept [Sidenote: 13] from -parasites. I venture to repeat here what I am continually urging upon -fathers. There is no set of creatures so pernicious—none which so -quickly and completely brings youth to headlong destruction—as -parasites. They are utter ruin to both father and son, filling the old -age of the one and the youth of the other with vexation. To gain their -purpose they offer an irresistible bait in the shape of pleasure. In the -case of rich men’s sons, the father preaches sobriety, the parasite -drunkenness. The father urges temperance and economy, the parasite -profligacy and extravagance. The father says: ‘Be industrious’; the -parasite says: ‘Be idle; for life is only a moment altogether. -[Sidenote: B] One ought to live, not merely exist. Why trouble about -your father’s threats? He is an old driveller with one foot in the -coffin, and we will promptly pick him up on our shoulders and carry him -off to his grave.’ One person tempts him with a drab, or with the -seduction of a married woman, plundering and stripping the father of all -the provision for his old age. They are an abominable crew; their -friendship is a sham; of candour they have no idea; they toady the rich -and despise the poor. They are drawn to young men like puppets on a -string; they [Sidenote: *] grin, when those who feed them laugh; they -counterfeit the possession of a mind, and give a spurious imitation of -details of real life. They live at the rich man’s beck, and though -fortune [Sidenote: C] has made them free, their own choice makes them -slaves. If they are not insulted, they regard it as an insult, their -maintenance in that case being without a motive. If, therefore, a father -is concerned for the obedient conduct of his children, he must keep -these abominable creatures at a distance. And he must by all means do -the same with vicious fellow-pupils, who are capable of corrupting the -most moral of natures. - -While these principles are right and expedient, I have a word to say -upon a human aspect of the matter. I have no desire, all this time, that -a father’s disposition should be altogether [Sidenote: D] harsh and -unyielding. I would have him frequently condone a fault in his junior -and recollect that he was once young himself. The physician mixes his -bitter drugs with syrup, and so finds a way to work benefit through the -medium of enjoyment. In the same way a father should blend his severe -reprimande with kindliness, at one time giving the boy’s desires a loose -or easy rein, at another time tightening it. If possible, he should -[Sidenote: E] take misdeeds calmly; failing that, his anger should be -seasonable and should quickly cool down. It is better for a father to be -sharp-tempered than sullen-tempered; to sulk and bear malice goes far to -prove a lack of parental affection. Sometimes, when a fault is -committed, it is a good thing to pretend ignorance, turning to advantage -the dim sight and defective hearing of old age, and refusing to see or -hear certain occurrences which one hears and sees. We put up with the -lapses of a friend. Is it strange to do so with those of a child? A -slave is often heavy-headed from a debauch, without our taking him to -task. The other day you refused the boy money; there are times to meet -his requests. The other day you were indignant; there are times to be -lenient. Perhaps he has cozened you through a servant; [Sidenote: F] -restrain your anger. Has he borrowed the team from the farm? Does he -come reeking of yesterday’s bout? Do not notice it. Smelling of -perfumes? Say nothing. Such is the way to manage the restiveness of -youth. - -A son who cannot resist pleasure and is deaf to remonstrance should be -put into matrimonial harness, that being the surest way of tying a young -man down. The woman who becomes his wife should not, however, be to any -great extent his superior either in birth or means. _Keep to your own -level_ is a sound maxim, and a man who marries much above him finds -himself, [Sidenote: 14] not the husband of the woman, but the slave of -the dowry. - -A few words more, and I will conclude my list of principles. - -Above all things a father should set an example to his children in his -own person, by avoiding all faults of commission or omission. His life -should be the glass by which they form themselves and are put out of -conceit with all ugliness of act or speech. For him to rebuke his erring -sons when guilty of the same errors himself, is to become his own -accuser while ostensibly theirs. Indeed, if his life is bad, he is -disqualified from reproving even a slave, much more his son. Moreover, -he will naturally [Sidenote: B] become their guide and teacher in -wrongdoing. Where there are old men without shame, inevitably there are -quite shameless young ones also. To obtain good behaviour from our -children we should therefore strive to carry out every moral duty. An -example to follow is that of Eurydice, who, though belonging to a -thoroughly barbarous country like Illyria, nevertheless took to study -and self-improvement late in life for the sake of her children’s -education. Her maternal affection finds apt expression in the lines -inscribed upon her offering to the Muses: [Sidenote: C] - - _In that, when mother to grown boys, she won - Her soul’s well-known desire—the skill to use - The lore of letters—this Eurydice - From Hierapolis sends to each Muse._[60] - -To compass the whole of the foregoing elements of success is [Sidenote: -*] perhaps visionary—a counsel of perfection. But to cultivate the -majority of them, though itself requiring good fortune as well as much -care, is at any rate a thing within the reach of a human being. - -Footnote 55: - - This article is in all probability not the work of Plutarch. See the - Introduction. - -Footnote 56: - - The play upon words (_ēthikas_, ‘moral’ and _ĕthikas_, ‘of habit’) is - not adequately translatable. - -Footnote 57: - - The Greek text is here corrupt; the translation represents the - probable sense. - -Footnote 58: - - The Greek text is again faulty. The sense here given is approximate. - -Footnote 59: - - These maxims were probably in the first instance merely hygienic, or - even popular superstitions, but subsequently they received recondite - interpretations. - -Footnote 60: - - The Greek verse is doggerel, and no attempt is made to better it in - the English. - - - - - NOTES ON PERSONS AND PLACES - - -The following brief notes are intended to supply the bare amount of -information necessary for an understanding of the text. The -pronunciation marks are, of course, added only for the sake of those who -have no Greek. An accent marks the syllable which should bear the stress -in the English pronunciation, and the signs [ă ĕ ĭ ŏ ŭ] and [ā ē ī ō ū], -imply that the vowels are short or long respectively. q.v. = see the -note on that name. - -=Ábaris=: a legendary Scythian or ‘Hyperborean’ priest of Apollo, to -whom miraculous powers were attributed in the way of cures and prophecy. - -=Aeolians=: inhabitants of Aeolis, the NE. coast of the Aegean, with the -island of Lesbos. - -=Aeschĭnes=: (1) a philosopher, pupil of Socrates (hence Aeschines -Socraticus). In the eyes of Plato he was a sophist, for the reason that -he took fees. His character was not of the highest. Like Plato, he -visited Syracuse during the philosophic pose of the elder Dionysius. - -(2) Athenian orator, constant opponent of Demosthenes, who charged him -with being bribed by Philip. Died in exile 314 B.C. - -=Aeschylus=: the first in date and most severe in style of the three -great Attic tragedians, 525-466 B.C. A master of condensed and sonorous -language and of powerful situations. - -=Aesop=: the famous writer (or promulgator) of fables, _c._ 620-564 B.C. -Said to have been an emancipated slave, who spent some time at the court -of Croesus and was sent by him on a mission to Delphi to distribute -largess. Practically nothing definite is known of him. His fables were -most probably of Indo-Persian origin. Those which now pass under his -name are a comparatively late compilation from various sources. - -=Agésilāus=: Agesilaus II, king of Sparta, 398-361 B.C.; the most -important man in the Greek world of his day. His wars were numerous, the -most important being with the Thebans. His character was noble, his -ability great, but his physique and appearance poor. - -=Agis=: (1) Agis II, king of Sparta, 427-399 B.C.; commander against the -Athenians in the Peloponnesian War, his greatest exploit being the -victory of Mantinea. - -(2) Base and toadying poet of Argos, who accompanied Alexander into -Asia. The histories of the expedition agree with Plutarch as to his -character. - -=Alcibíades=: a handsome noble of Athens; a type of ostentatious, -ambitious, and unscrupulous brilliancy. After a measure of military and -political prominence he was banished from Athens for sacrilege (415 -B.C.). Becoming hostile to his country he first found a home at Sparta, -thence migrated to Asia Minor and joined the Persian satrap, -Tissaphernes, whom he endeavoured to bring over to the Athenian side as -a means to his own recall. He returned to Athens for a brief space in -407 B.C., then removed to Thrace, and thence again to the Persian -satrap. - -=Alcméōn=: son of Amphiaraus (q.v.), who avenged his father by putting -to death his mother Eriphyle. - -=Alexander=: (1) the Great, of Macedon. - -(2) of Pherae, a despot who dominated Thessaly from 369 B.C. A cruel -tyrant, assassinated through the agency of his wife. - -=Alexis=: poet of the ‘Middle Comedy’, who had migrated from South Italy -to Athens. Plutarch says that he lived to the age of 106, and Suidas -that his plays numbered 245. - -=Alyáttes=: king of Lydia and father of Croesus, carried on wars with -the Greeks of the Aegean coast of Asia Minor and had apparently some -designs upon the islands. - -=Amásis=: an insurgent Egyptian general who secured the throne (569 -B.C.). His rule was beneficent and prosperous, and he cultivated the -friendship of the Greeks, handing over to them the town of Naucratis (q. -v.). When reproached with his humble origin he converted his bronze -foot-pan into the effigy of a deity by way of instructive parable. He -was visited by Solon and had amicable relations with Croesus. - -=Ammónius=: Peripatetic philosopher from Attica, teacher of Plutarch, -who speaks elsewhere of his great erudition. - -=Amphiaráus=: legendary seer of Argos, who accompanied the ‘Seven’ in -their expedition against Thebes. A pious and just man, who was led into -this false step by the persuasions of his wife, who had been bribed. - -=Amphíctyons=: members of a religious Council meeting at Delphi and -representing the older Greek communities. - -=Amphídămas=: ‘hero’ (i. e. demigod) of Chalcis in Euboea, conceived as -a historical personage. - -=Amphitrítë=: wife of Poseidon and queen-goddess of the sea. - -=Anacharsis=: Scythian prince (of N. Thrace). To Greek literature he is -the type of the observant and critical visitor from abroad. A pattern of -the simple life and direct thinking. Said to have visited Athens about -600 B.C. - -=Anaxarchus=: an easy-going and witty philosopher of the school of -Democritus (q. v.); in the suite of Alexander on his Asiatic expedition. - -=Antígŏnus=: a general of Alexander. On the partition of the empire he -received Phrygia, Lycia, and Pamphylia, but afterwards extended his rule -over all the Asiatic portion. He fell before a combination of the other -Diadochi in 301 B.C. - -=Antímăchus=: epic poet of Colophon, who wrote at great length on the -story of Thebes. He also composed a voluminous elegy on ‘Lyde’. Both -pieces were crammed with mythological and other learning, and Plutarch -appears to treat him as a type of the diffuse. He was a contemporary of -Plato. - -=Antípăter=: (1) regent of Macedonia during the Asiatic expedition of -Alexander and after his death (334-320 B.C.). A war with a Greek league -headed by Athens ended in the submission of the latter. - -(2) A Stoic philosopher of Tyre; a friend of Cato the younger, about the -middle of the first century B.C. - -=Antiphōn=: several persons were so named, e. g.: - -(1) an orator of the fifth century B.C. - -(2) An Athenian tragic poet, put to death by the elder Dionysius at -Syracuse. - -(3) A sophist, epic poet, and antagonist of Socrates. - -=Apéllēs=: (1) of Colophon or Cos, _fl._ _c._ 335-305 B.C. The greatest -painter of antiquity, especially favoured by Alexander the Great. His -maxim for draughtsmen _nulla dies sine linea_ is famous. - -(2) Of Chios, apparently unknown beyond Plutarch. - -=Appius Claudius= (=Caecus=): Roman censor 312 B.C., originator of the -Appian Way. - -=Aráspēs=: a Mede, friend of Cyrus, who became enamoured of Panthea (q. -v.). - -=Arcĕsiláus=: latter part of third century B.C.; first a disciple of -Theophrastus (q. v.), but took an independent line in philosophy as -founder of the sceptical New Academy. A man of amiable character and a -wit. - -=Archeláus=: king of Macedonia 413-399 B.C.; a lover of art and -literature and a patron of Euripides and other Athenian men of letters. - -=Archidámus=: Archidamus II, king of Sparta, 469-427 B.C. There were -several other kings of the name. - -=Archílŏchus=: of Paros, _fl._ _c._ 710-675 B.C. A lyrist of whom only -fragments are extant; particularly famous for his iambic lampoons. - -=Archimédes=: the Newton of antiquity; an eminent scientist of Syracuse -287-212 B.C.; student of astronomy, applied mathematics, and -engineering. He served as mechanical engineer in defending his city from -the Romans, by whose soldiers he was killed in ignorance. - -=Archytas=: of Tarentum, in the early part of the fourth century B.C., -noted as a mathematician and philosophic statesman of the Pythagorean -order. Both in generalship and civil business of state he was eminently -successful and was trusted with extraordinary powers. - -=Arēs=: the Greek War-God, answering generally to the Roman Mars. - -=Arȋdaeus= (=Arrhidaeus=): (1) feeble half-witted king of Macedonia -after his brother Alexander’s death. - -(2) A general of Alexander, joint regent in 321 B.C., afterwards -governor on the Hellespont. - -=Aríōn=: _c._ 600 B.C.; the famous bard and harp-player of Lesbos, and -supposed inventor of the dithyramb. His favourite abode was at the court -of Periander. - -=Aristarchus=: the prince of Greek grammarians and critics; flourished -at Alexandria 181-146 B.C. Chiefly known for his commentaries on the -language and matter of Homer, and his recension of the divergent -manuscripts. - -=Aristeides= (=Aristídes=): with the sobriquet of ‘the Just’; a noble of -Athens, statesman and general, who figures in the stirring times of the -war with Persia. Died _c._ 470 B.C. - -=Aristíppus=: of Cyrene, disciple, but not imitator, of Socrates. A -student and teacher of ethics, and founder of the Cyrenaic philosophy -and its cult of pleasure: _fl._ _c._ 380-366 B.C. For a time he was at -the court of Dionysius (q. v.) of Syracuse. - -=Arísto=: (1) the chief bearer of the name was a philosopher who became -head of the Peripatetic school about 230 B.C. Anciently considered a -writer of more elegance than weight. - -(2) A son of Sophocles, and probably himself a tragedian. - -=Aristómĕnes=: practically regent of Egypt from 202 B.C.; a sound -adviser of the young Ptolemy Epiphanes (q. v.), who put him to death for -his frankness in 192 B.C. - -=Aristóphănes=: of Athens, 444-380 B.C.; by far the greatest comic poet -of antiquity. His comedy was of the ‘Old’, or personal-political type. -Eleven of his plays are extant. - -=Arístŏphōn=: painter, brother of Polygnotus (who _fl._ _c._ 420 B.C.). - -=Aristotle=: of Stageira, but commonly domiciled in Athens or in -Macedonia. Pupil of Plato and subsequently tutor of Alexander. Founder -of the Peripatetic school, with its head-quarters in the Lyceum (q. v.). -His whole tone of mind is strikingly unlike that of his teacher, being -eminently precise, logical, and scientific. His writing is without -literary charm. He aimed at sound and comprehensive knowledge as the -basis of right principles in society, conduct, and the arts (384-322 -B.C.). - -=Asclépius=: (= Aesculapius), the Greek ‘hero’ of medicine, converted by -legend into a son of Apollo and ultimately into a god. - -=Atreides= (=Atrídes=): = ‘son of Atreus’, a title of Agamemnon and -Menelaus. - -=Áttălus= (brother of Eumenes): Attalus Philadelphus, king of Pergamus, -allied with the Romans in the middle of the second century B.C. -Philopoemen was his controlling minister. - -=Bacchýlȋdes=: lyric poet of Ceos, _fl._ _c._ 470 B.C., principally at -the court of Hiero of Syracuse. In general he may be called a smoother -and weaker Pindar. - -=Bagóas=: a handsome young eunuch of Darius, afterwards taken into the -service and affections of Alexander. - -=Báthycles=: an artist in metal-work, of uncertain date, but probably to -be placed in the early part of the age of the Seven Sages. - -=Bato=: comic poet of Athens, _fl._ _c._ 280 B.C.; satirized -philosophers. - -=Bias=: of Priene; precise date unknown, but _fl._ _c._ 550 B.C. He is -invariably included in the list of the Seven Sages. - -=Biōn=: _fl._ _c._ 250 B.C., a philosopher from Olbia on the Black Sea, -who settled at Athens, tried various systems, and ended by being a -Peripatetic. He was noted for his keen sententious sayings, but was of -dissolute character. Has been called ‘the Greek Voltaire’. - -=Brīséïs=: captive woman assigned to Achilles, but taken from him by -Agamemnon when he surrendered Chryseis. - -=Busírites=: the people of Busiris (modern Abousir), about the middle of -the Delta; one of the traditional birthplaces of Osiris. - -=Calchas=: the seer of the Achaean army before Troy. - -=Callísthĕnes=: philosopher and rhetorician; accompanied Alexander into -Asia, where he used over-bold language in reproving him. Put to death -328 B.C. He wrote an account of the expedition and other historical -works. - -=Calýpso=: nymph, on whose island the shipwrecked Odysseus was detained -for seven years. - -=Carnĕădes=: of Cyrene, 213(?)-129 B.C.; a student of Stoicism, but -leader of the Academics. He was ambassador on behalf of Athens (155 -B.C.) to Rome, where he delivered striking discourses on ethics. His -cardinal doctrine was the ‘withholding of assent’ to doctrines. - -=Cato=: (1) the elder (or ‘the Censor’), 234-149 B.C. The type of severe -old-fashioned Roman morality; soldier, statesman, orator, and writer. - -(2) The younger (or ‘Uticensis’), 95-46 B.C.; modelled himself on his -great-grandfather in respect of the moral and simple life, but was much -inferior in gifts. Committed suicide 46 B.C., when the struggle against -the domination of Julius Caesar had become hopeless. - -=Cĕbēs=: of Thebes, a pupil of Socrates and a _persona_ in Plato’s -_Phaedo_. He is chiefly known for his (if it is his) symbolic picture or -‘table’ of human life. - -=Cĕrămeicus (-í-)=: a suburb without, and a broad street within, the -west walls of Athens. - -=Cercópes=: mythical gnomes, mischievous and thievish, who annoyed -Heracles by their monkey-like tricks. - -=Chábrȋas=: Athenian commander at various times between 392 and 357 -B.C., gaining some successes by land and sea against the Spartans. An -able tactician, adventurous, but of somewhat dissolute life. - -=Chalcis=: chief town of Euboea (Negropont), once a most important -commercial centre. - -=Charēs=: Athenian general, of whose various operations we have records -for 367-333 B.C. A man of little principle. He effected little against -the Macedonians, and often followed independent and useless lines of -action. - -=Chármȋdes=: uncle of Plato, who names one of his Socratic dialogues -after him. At the supposed date he was a beautiful and charming youth, -and the discussion is upon ‘self-control’. - -=Chīlōn=: of Lacedaemon: _fl._ _c._ 600-570 B.C. Poet and coiner of -maxims, and shrewd man of affairs. - -=Chryséïs=: captive woman assigned to Agamemnon; surrendered by him at -the bidding of Apollo, in order to check a pestilence. - -=Cimōn=: son of Miltiades, became prominent as a commander against the -Persians in 477 B.C. His chief exploit was the victory of Eurymedon, 466 -B.C. A handsome, liberal, affable, but somewhat self-indulgent person. - -=Cīnésias=: Athenian dithyrambic poet, much satirized by Aristophanes -and others. His verse, music, and character appear all to have been of -an inferior order. - -=Claudia=: Roman maiden, who, in full vindication of her chastity, was -enabled to move the vessel containing the image of Cybele when it stuck -fast in the Tiber. - -=Cleánthes=: Stoic philosopher, pupil and successor of Zeno (q. v.) 263 -B.C. The only fragment of his writing still extant is from a Hymn to -Zeus. - -=Cleárchus=: (1) of Heraclea on the Black Sea; availed himself of -faction to make himself despot and tyrant (365 B.C.). Despite the -precautions described by Plutarch he was assassinated in 353 B.C. - -(2) Of Sparta, leader of the 10,000 Greeks in the expedition of Cyrus -the Younger against Babylon; decoyed and put to death by the Persians, -401 B.C. The retreat was led by Xenophon (q.v.). - -=Cleisthĕnes=: Athenian noble, who adopted the popular cause and made -important democratic changes in the constitution; _fl._ from 510 B.C. - -=Cleitus= (=Clītus=): a Macedonian commander under Alexander, whose life -he saved at the battle of Granícus (334 B.C.). He was killed (328 B.C.) -by Alexander with a spear-thrust, after a quarrel at a carousal, in -which he had spoken with excessive freedom to his chief. - -=Cleobulínë=: daughter (as the name implies) of Cleobulus (q.v.). Though -her father is said to have named her Eumetis (‘sagacious’), the word may -be suspected of being an afterthought. - -=Cleobúlus=: _c._ 610-560 B.C. A citizen of Lindus in Rhodes, who became -its despot. His position may have been similar to that of Pittacus -(q.v.). - -=Cleómĕnes=: Cleomenes III, high-minded king of Sparta, 240-222 B.C. On -his defeat by the Achaeans he fled to Ptolemy Euergetes, with whom he -was in alliance. The next Ptolemy (Philopator) suspected and imprisoned -him. - -=Cleōn=: a tanner of Athens; an able but coarse-grained leader of the -popular party 428-422 B.C. A special enemy of Aristophanes (q.v.), whose -fiercest political attacks are delivered against him. A self-sufficient -amateur in military operations, in one of which he was slain. - -=Clódius=: P. Clodius Pulcher; a daring and unscrupulous person, who -became quaestor in 61 B.C. and tribune of the plebs in 59 B.C. The -notorious and relentless enemy of Cicero. Killed by Milo on the high -road 52 B.C. - -=Colónus=: a suburb of Athens outside the north wall, with a small hill, -grove, and sanctuary. - -=Cólophōn=: Greek town of Asia Minor, near the Aegean coast, about ten -miles north of Ephesus. - -=Cornelia=: daughter of Scipio Africanus; the famous ‘mother of the -Gracchi’; the type of matronly virtue, dignity, cultivation, and high -example. - -=Crátĕrus=: a noble type of Macedonian; one of Alexander’s generals. -After the death of his chief (323 B.C.) he became colleague with -Antipater in the Graeco-Macedonian portion of the empire. See also under -Eumenes. - -=Cratēs=: of Thebes; pupil of Diogenes (q.v.) at Athens; _fl._ _c._ 320 -B.C. A Cynic philosopher in practice as well as theory, he renounced his -wealth and led the simple life in a cheerful manner. A philosophic -writer and a tragic poet. - -=Croesus=: king of Lydia 560-546 B.C. A wealthy and powerful ruler, who -made war upon the Persians when their empire was growing rapidly under -Cyrus. Was defeated and carried off in the train of the conqueror. While -in power he was in friendly or hostile relations with various Greek -states, and was particularly noted for his liberality to the Delphian -oracle. Whether Solon ever actually had the famous interview with -Croesus is chronologically doubtful, but it is not impossible. - -=Cyáxares=: king of Media, appears in Xenophon’s _Cyropaedia_ as uncle -of Cyrus the Great, but the whole book is something of a romance. - -=Cýpsĕlus=: father of Periander, established himself as despot of -Corinth _c._ 656 B.C. His name was commonly associated with _cypsele_ -(‘chest’). The designs upon him in his infancy were those of a -Corinthian noble house, and were made in consequence of an oracle -foretelling danger from the child. - -=Cyrus=: (1) the elder: the famous Persian monarch, founder of the -empire, and subjugator of Babylon. The stories told of him in the -_Cyropaedia_ of Xenophon are largely romance. - -(2) the younger: satrap of Lydia, Phrygia, &c., who sought, but failed, -to dispossess his brother Artaxerxes with the assistance of a Greek -force (401 B.C.). This was the expedition related in Xenophon’s -_Anabasis_. - -=Daphnūs=: a river running into the Corinthian Gulf on the north side -not far from the entrance. - -=Dāríus=: (1) Darius I; strong and able king of Persia (521-485 B.C.), -previously satrap under Cyrus the Great. This is the Darius mentioned in -connexion with Gobryas. - -(2) Darius II (Ochus or Nothus), or Darius the Younger, a weak monarch -endangered by perpetual rebellions, 424-405 B.C. - -(3) Darius Codomannus, overthrown by Alexander. Died 330 B.C. - -=Délos=: central island of the south half of the Aegean, with a temple -of Apollo, the gathering-place of a great religious confederacy of -Ionians. - -=Dēmarátus=: of Corinth, in friendly relations with Philip and a -mediator between him and Alexander after their quarrel in 337 B.C. - -=Dēmétrius=: (1) Demetrius I (or Poliorcetes), king of Macedonia. His -father Antigonus, king of Asia, sent him in 307 B.C. to annex Greece, -then under Cassander and Ptolemy. It was at this time that he took -Megara and met with Stilpo (q. v.). - -(2) Demetrius Phaléreus: Athenian orator and writer (345-283 B.C.); an -able and cultivated man, put in charge of Athens by the Macedonians, 317 -B.C. First highly honoured, then expelled, he made his way to Thebes and -subsequently to Alexandria. - -(3) The name of several Macedonian officers in the army of Alexander. - -=Dēmócrȋtus=: _c._ 460-360 B.C. Of Abdēra in Thrace. A great traveller -and student, who developed (though he did not invent) the ‘Atomic -Theory’. Ethically his aim was cheerfulness of mind (hence ‘the laughing -philosopher’). His character was of the highest for truth and -simplicity. - -=Dicaeárchus=: philosopher from Massana in Sicily; writer on history and -geography. A follower of Aristotle, _fl._ _c._ 300 B.C. - -=Díŏcles=: the narrator of the Dinner of the Seven Sages: professional -seer, and interpreter and expiator of omens and dreams. Nothing is known -of such a person outside Plutarch. - -=Diógĕnes=: (1) the Cynic philosopher of Sinope, who migrated to Athens, -and after being captured by pirates was sold as a slave to a Corinthian. -Whether or not he ever lived in the famous (earthenware) ‘tub’ is -doubtful. He was distinguished for his plainness of life, his shrewd -good sense, his independence, and his caustic tongue. - -(2) Tragic poet of Athens, _c._ 404 B.C. - -=Diōn=: of Syracuse, brother-in-law of the elder Dionysius (q. v.). On -the visit of Plato to Sicily he became a disciple of that philosopher. -The younger Dionysius resented his reputation and his harshness. Dion -therefore removed to Athens and other parts of Greece, whence he -returned with a force, expelled Dionysius, and was himself appointed -practically dictator. Assassinated 353 B.C. - -=Dionysius=: (i) the elder: despot of Syracuse (‘sole general’) 405-367 -B.C. He extended its power over a great part of Sicily, and strongly -fortified the city itself. In the end he became a veritable tyrant. Like -many other despots he affected literature and philosophy, and himself -wrote bad verses. After inviting Plato to Syracuse he quarrelled with -and dismissed that philosopher. - -(2) the younger, who succeeded his father. For a time he was under the -influence of Dion (q.v.) assisted by Plato. Of weaker character and more -licentious than his father, he was compelled to abandon Syracuse after a -rule of eleven years. Insecurely restored ten years later he was again -driven out by Timoleon (343 B.C.). The remainder of his life was spent -in poverty at Corinth, where he is said to have taught an elementary -school. - -=Dōdóna=: in Epirus, near the modern Janina; a very ancient seat of the -worship of Zeus. - -=Dolōn=: a Trojan in the _Iliad_, who undertakes to penetrate the -Achaean camp as a spy, but is slain in the attempt. - -=Dryópians=: a people of Central Greece. - -=Elephantínë= = Djesiret-el-Sag; a garrisoned island in the Nile (First -Cataract) opposite the modern Assouan; the frontier town of Egypt -towards Ethiopia. - -=Empédŏcles=: Sicilian physical and practical philosopher of Acragas (= -Girgenti); _fl._ _c._ 450 B.C. His studies of nature specially qualified -him for the cure or ‘purification’ of epidemics due to insanitary -conditions. His travels took him to Athens and other parts of Greece. -The legend went that he threw himself into the crater of Etna. - -=Eōs=: = Aurora, dawn-goddess; wife of Tithonus; mother of Memnon, the -opponent of Achilles. - -=Epáminōndas=: a type of patriotism, particularly to his compatriot -Plutarch. The greatest of Theban commanders and statesmen, especially -famous for his victory over the Spartans at Leuctra (371 B.C.). So far -as he applied any philosophy to life, it was that of Pythagoras. - -=Éphŏrus=: historian of Cumae, _fl._ _c._ 340 B.C. His history, once -very famous and much discussed, covered a period of 750 years. - -=Epichármus=: _c._ 540-450 B.C.; the great comic poet of Sicily, chiefly -associated with the court of Hiero I (q.v.) at Syracuse. - -=Epicúrus=: 342-270 B.C. Athenian philosopher and founder of the -Epicurean school, of which the aim was ‘peace of mind’ or ‘freedom from -emotional disturbance’. His own life (as his tenets required) was simple -and wholesome, and the self-indulgence of the sect in later days was -either a parody or a misconception of his teachings. A voluminous writer -on physics and ethics, but with a bad style. - -=Epiménȋdes=: priest-prophet and bard of Crete, with peculiar knowledge -of medicine and methods of purification. Many fables were current -concerning him (e.g. of his sleep of fifty-seven years). He was called -in by the Athenians (_c._ 596 B.C.) to cleanse their city of a plague. - -=Epimétheus=: brother of Prometheus (q.v.). The name was taken to mean -‘After-thinker’, and hence arose a notion that he ‘thought too late’. - -=Erasístrătus=: a very distinguished physician in the earlier part of -the third century B.C. He practised and taught in Syria and Alexandria. -An eminent student of anatomy. - -=Eratósthĕnes=: librarian of Alexandria under the Ptolemies; a writer on -mathematical geography, history, and grammar. Died about 196 B.C. - -=Érĕsus=: a town on the south-west coast of Lesbos (Mytilene); -birthplace of Theophrastus. - -=Erétria=: the second town of Euboea, a little south of Chalcis. See -Lelantum. - -=Erínys=: a spirit of vengeance sent up from the underworld to punish -unnatural crimes and offences. - -=Éteŏcles=: (legendary): son of Oedipus, joint king of Thebes with -Polyneices, whom he expelled through a selfish desire to rule alone. - -=Euénus=: two poets of Paros are so named, one of the date of Socrates -and one earlier. It is, and was anciently, difficult to distinguish -between the two. - -=Eúmĕnes=: an eminent and very able general (and also secretary) of -Alexander, after whose death he obtained (322 B.C.) the chief command in -Asia. His subordinate Neoptolemus, governor of Armenia, made head -against him with the help of Craterus. Their defeat, mentioned in the -article on Garrulity, took place in Cappadocia in 321 B.C. - -=Eúpŏlis=: one of the three chief poets of the ‘old’ comedy of Athens, a -contemporary of Aristophanes (q.v.). - -=Eurípides=: 480-406 B.C.; third in date of the three great Athenian -tragedians. His works were numerous and uneven. His poetical merits were -(and are) variously estimated. - -=Fabius Maximus=: the best known person of the name was Q. Fabius -Maximus Cunctator, who saved Rome by his waiting tactics against -Hannibal; but the one who was associated with Polybius, as pupil and -patron, was Q. F. M. Aemilianus, consul in 145 B.C., who served against -Macedonia and in Spain. - -=Góbryes=: one of the seven Persian nobles (Darius being another) who -conspired against the usurper Smerdis the Mage. Darius was raised to the -throne and Gobryes became one of his lieutenants. - -=Górgȋas=: of Leontini in Sicily: orator, rhetorical teacher, and -sophist, who visited Athens 427 B.C. and subsequently. His style, which -was highly artificial, was widely imitated. He is the Gorgias of Plato’s -dialogue. - -=Gorgo=: of Sparta; wife of Leonidas and daughter of Cleomenes I. -Stories of her wisdom and sagacity are told by Herodotus (6. 49, 7. -239). - -=Gylippus=: Spartan general who came to the rescue of Syracuse and -chiefly caused the utter collapse of the Athenian attack upon that city. -After the fall of Athens (404 B.C.) it was his business to convey to -Sparta the 1,500 talents of booty. He opened the seams of the sacks, -filched about one-fifth of the amount, but was betrayed by the -inventories enclosed. - -=Harmódius=: a handsome youth of Athens associated with Aristogeiton -(the older man) in the assassination of Hipparchus, brother of the -despot Hippias in 514 B.C. Though Athens was not liberated till four -years later, these tyrannicides were canonized as saviours of their -country. - -=Hecuba=: the aged wife of Priam, and mother of Hector. - -=Hephaestus=: practically the Greek equivalent of the Latin Vulcan or -Fire-God. He is represented as a lame, but sturdy and somewhat humorous -deity, a master of smithcraft. - -=Hēracleides= (=Héraclides=): It is not clear to which person of the -name Plutarch refers. The best known was Heracleides Ponticus, a pupil -of Plato and a miscellaneous writer. - -=Hēracleitus= (=Hēraclítus=): physical philosopher of Ephesus, _fl._ -_c._ 515 B.C. Famous for the compression of his style, which became so -cryptic that he earned the title of the ‘Obscure’. He was something of a -hermit and favoured the simple vegetarian life. The ‘weeping -philosopher’. - -=Hermíŏne=: daughter of Menelaus and Helen; married to Neoptolemus (son -of Achilles) and jealous of Andromache, whom she tried to put to death. - -=Hēródŏtus=: _c._ 484-400 B.C.; the so-called ‘Father of History’. He -travelled widely in the East and in the Grecian world, and wrote on -Lydia, Babylonia, Egypt, Persia, and the great Persian war. His desire -is to get at the facts, but he displays a naïve fondness for -story-telling and for wonders and miracles. - -=Hēróphȋlus=: of Chalcedon; a most eminent physician and a discoverer in -anatomy and physiology; _fl._ _c._ 300 B.C. - -=Hiero I=: or the Magnificent, despot of Gelon and Syracuse (478-467 -B.C.), and most powerful Sicilian of his day. Poets at one time or other -associated with his court were Epicharmus, Xenophanes, Simonides, -Aeschylus, Pindar, and Bacchylides. - -=Hierónymus=: tragic and dithyrambic poet of Athens and apparently a -writer on poets. - -=Hippócrătes=: of Cos; the ‘father of medicine’; the most renowned -physician and medical teacher and writer of antiquity: _c._ 460-357 B.C. - -=Hypereides= (=Hyperídes=): Attic orator; patriot, contemporary and, for -the most part, supporter of Demosthenes in his anti-Macedonian policy. -Put to death by Antipater (q.v.), 322 B.C. An elegant speaker, of -dubious private life. - -=Íbycus=: of Rhegium, _fl._ _c._ 540 B.C. at the court of the despot of -Samos; a lyric poet of the erotic type. The proverb, ‘the cranes of -Ibycus’, arose from the story that, when being murdered by brigands near -Corinth, he invoked a flock of cranes, then flying past, to avenge his -death. Plutarch tells the sequel (_Garrulity_). - -=īno=: or Leucóthea; a mythological personage, daughter of Cadmus and -wife of Athamas. One story went that, when she leapt into the sea, she -was carried to Corinth by a dolphin. Hence the allusion in the story of -Arion. - -=īphícrătes=: Athenian general in early part of the fourth century B.C. -An innovator in tactics and military equipment, noted for his prudence -and foresight. - -=Ischómăchus=: a character of the name appears in Xenophon’s -_Oeconomicus_ as lecturing his wife upon the principles of domestic -management. Such a philosophically disposed person may be the associate -of Socrates mentioned by Plutarch. - -=Ithacans=: the people of Odysseus, king of Ithaca, one of the Ionian -islands, south of Corfu. - -=Ixíon=: mythical Thessalian king, who made illicit love to Hera, wife -of Zeus, and was punished by being fastened to a perpetually revolving -wheel in Hades. - -=Laelius=: C. Laelius Sapiens, friend of Scipio Africanus Minor. Consul -140 B.C. Cicero’s _De Amicitia_ is otherwise named his _Laelius_. -Philosopher, orator, and scholar. - -=Laértes=: aged father of Odysseus; superannuated king of Ithaca. - -=Lĕchaeum=: the port of Old Corinth, with which it was connected by -walls one and a half miles in length. - -=Lēlántum=: a river of Euboea, flowing through the fertile Lelantine -plain (between Chalcis and Eretria), which was long a bone of contention -between the two cities. - -=Leónȋdas=: the famous Spartan king, who so stubbornly held the pass of -Thermopylae against the Persians with his ‘Three Hundred’, 480 B.C. - -=Leptis=: a town in Africa near the modern Tripoli; a Phoenician -settlement and afterwards a Roman colony. - -=Lesches=: one of the post-Homeric (‘Cyclic’) poets, and writer of the -_Little Iliad_; a native of Lesbos, _fl._ _c._ 705 B.C. - -=Leuctra=: Boeotian village; the scene of the great defeat of the -Spartans by Epaminondas, 371 B.C. - -=Livia=: Livia Drusilla, 56 B.C.-A.D. 29. Her first husband was Tiberius -Claudius Nero, by whom she was the mother of Tiberius, the future -emperor. Married to Augustus (then Octavianus) in 38 B.C., and having no -children by him, she was anxious to keep the succession in her own -family. A woman of strong character, she exerted a tactful control over -Augustus and attempted one more imperious over Tiberius, but failed. - -=Locri=: Locri Epizephyrii, an important Greek town of South Italy, -about the modern Gerace. Its constitutional code was often regarded as a -model. - -=Locris=: a Greek community lying along the north side of the middle of -the Corinthian Gulf. - -=Loxias=: Apollo as God of Oracles. The name was commonly interpreted as -‘Riddling’ or ‘Indirect’. - -=Lucullus=: Roman conqueror of Mithridates, succeeded in his command by -Pompey, 66 B.C. Famous for his wealth and luxury, and particularly for -his lavish feasts. A byword for self-indulgence. - -=Lycéum=: an exercise ground with terraces (‘walks’) and colonnades just -outside the wall to the east of Athens. It was here that Aristotle -discoursed on the ‘Walk’ (_peripatos_), whence the name ‘Peripatetic’ -became applied to his school. - -=Lycurgus=: (1) the more or less legendary lawgiver and -constitution-maker of Sparta. His date and personality are quite -uncertain, and he is not improbably as mythical as Heracles. - -(2) son of Dryas, a legendary Thracian king who resisted the worship of -Dionysius and hacked down his sacred plant, the vine. Dionysius punished -him with madness, during which he killed his own son, thinking him a -vine. The story is much varied in particulars. - -=Lysander=: Spartan admiral, who won the battle of Aegospotami against -the Athenians and concluded the reduction of Athens in 404 B.C. He was -afterwards distinguished for his ostentation and arrogance. - -=Lysias=: orator and professional rhetorician of Athens, distinguished -for the purity and lucidity of his diction and his grace of style: _fl._ -_c._ 403 B.C. The majority of his 230 speeches were written for -litigants. - -=Lysímăchus=: of Macedonia; became king of Thrace on the partition of -Alexander’s empire. A man of powerful physique and an able soldier. -Later his territory included the western half of Asia Minor. Killed in -battle 281 B.C. - -=Masinissa=: king of Numidia; first a supporter, then an enemy, of -Carthage, he lent great assistance to the Romans from 204 B.C. to 148. -His reign was long and he died at ninety. - -=Meidias= (=Mídias=): an Athenian citizen and bitter enemy of -Demosthenes, one of whose best known speeches is a violent, and possibly -a rather scurrilous, attack upon him. - -=Melánthius=: of Athens: an inferior tragic and elegiac poet of -worthless character: a contemporary of Aristophanes and Plato. - -=Meleáger=: legendary prince of Calydon. Having slain his mother’s -brothers, he was cursed by her, and thereupon refused to take further -part in the war against the Curetes. No offers could induce him to leave -his chamber and rout the enemy, until he yielded to the prayers of his -wife Cleopatra. - -=Menander=: chief poet of the Athenian New Comedy (or comedy of -manners), 342-291 B.C.; a polished and easy-tempered man of the world. -His sententious writings lent themselves to quotation and were much read -in schools. To moralizing critics of a later age he was to comedy what -Homer was to epic. - -=Mĕnedémus=: philosopher and statesman of Euboea, of the ‘Megarian’ -school. Died _c._ 277 B.C. - -=Méropë=: the name of several mythological semi-goddesses, mostly -connected with the heavenly bodies. - -=Metellus=: Q. Caecilius Metellus, who successfully conducted the -Numidian War against Jugurtha (109 B.C.) until superseded by Marius. A -man of high character, military ability, and intellectual culture. - -=Mētrodórus=: favourite pupil of Epicurus (q.v.) and almost co-master of -his school. Died 277 B.C. - -=Mithridátes=: Mithridates VI, or the Great, king of Pontus 120-63 B.C., -a Hellenized oriental famed for his physical and intellectual ability, -his ambition and daring; of importance in history for his wars with the -Romans under Lucullus and Pompey. He made a special study of poisons and -their antidotes. - -=Mnēsíphȋlus=: Athenian statesman of sound practical ability, taken by -Themistocles as his model. It was he who urged Themistocles to force on -the battle of Salamis (480 B.C.). In the _Dinner-Party_ Plutarch borrows -the name for an imaginary friend of Solon. - -=Molycréa=: a town just inside the entrance to the Corinthian Gulf on -the north side. - -=Myrōn=: Boeotian sculptor; _fl._ 430 B.C. Best known by his Discobolus -and his ‘Cow’. His work included animal forms, and human figures in a -state of muscular activity or tension. - -=Mýrsȋlus=: see Pittacus. - -=Naucrătis=: a Greek town in the Delta of Egypt, thirty miles from the -sea. At first only a trading-station, it was granted privileges of -internal self-government by Amasis (q.v.). - -=Neoptólĕmus=: see Eumenes. - -=Nestor=: the typical wise old man of the _Iliad_. - -=Nicander=: poet and physician of Colophon; _fl._ in earlier half of -second century B.C. Two of his poems are extant: the _Theriaca_ on -venomous animals, and the _Alexipharmaca_ (or ‘_Antidotes_‘) on poisons -and their remedies. The verse in itself is poor. - -=Nícias=: (1) Athenian general in the calamitous expedition against -Syracuse (415-413 B.C.). A man of wealth, but religious to the point of -disastrous superstition; a commander of experience, though wanting in -promptitude and self-reliance. He was put to death by the victors. - -(2) painter of Athens, _fl._ _c._ 310 B.C., particularly noted for his -chiaroscuro and for improvements in encaustic painting. - -=Nilóxĕnus=: a character probably invented by Plutarch, with a name -geographically suitable. - -=Numa=: Numa Pompilius, second king of Rome, famed for his piety and the -excellence of his legislation. Much of his history is legendary. - -=Olympias=: wife of Philip (q.v.) and mother of Alexander. An imperious -and vindictive woman, with good reasons for jealousy, who often figures -in Macedonian feuds. - -=Olynthus=: a Greek town on the Chalcidic peninsula, south of -Thessalonica. - -=Ómphălë=: queen of Lydia, to whom Heracles was for a time enslaved and -for whom he played an effeminate part. In a sense she played the Delilah -to his Samson. - -=Orchómĕnus=: a very ancient town in Boeotia. - -=Oromazdes=: = Ahuramazda, the great God of the Zoroastrians; deity of -light and good, as opposed to Ahrimanes. - -=Pándărus=: a Lycian warrior on the Trojan side, famous for his skill as -an archer. - -=Panthéa=: beautiful wife of Abradatas, king of Susa. Cyrus, who had -captured her, showed her such respect that Abradatas came over to his -side. - -=Parménȋdes=: philosopher and legislator of Elea, _fl._ _c._ 476 B.C. -His writings were in the hexameter verse then usual as the vehicle of -literary philosophy. - -=Parménio=: general under Philip and Alexander, and right-hand -lieutenant of the latter. Accused of taking part in a conspiracy against -his chief, he was assassinated at the age of seventy in 330 B.C. - -=Parrhásius=: painter of Ephesus, domiciled at Athens, _c._ 400 B.C.; -famed for his accurate drawing and proportion. As a man he was arrogant -and luxurious. - -=Pāsíphaë=: (legendary): wife of Minos of Crete; enamoured of a bull and -mother of the Minotaur. - -=Patróclus=: the ‘squire’ and beloved friend of Achilles. Killed by -Hector in battle, and avenged by Achilles. - -=Peísistrătus=: a younger relative of Solon; intrigued himself into the -position of despot of Athens 560 B.C. He was twice expelled, but -re-established himself. A highly capable ruler, beautifier of Athens, -and a lover of literature. - -=Pēleides= (-=ī=-): (i.e. ‘son of Peleus’) = Achilles. - -=Péleus=: aged father of Achilles; superannuated king in Thessaly. - -=Periander=: despot of Corinth, _c._ 625-585 B.C. An able and powerful -ruler, patron of literature and art, generally (but not invariably) -included among the Seven Sages. His early mildness is commonly reported -to have passed into tyranny (see Thrasybulus). His wife was Melissa. - -Pericles: the highest name among what may be called ‘Prime Ministers’ of -Athens. His career may be dated 470-429 B.C., but his leadership became -most pronounced about 444 B.C. A man of large conceptions, brilliant -oratorical powers, and philosophic tastes, but of an aristocratic and -exclusive temperament. - -=Perséphŏnë=: daughter of Demeter, wife of Pluto, and therefore, in one -of her aspects, Queen of the Dead. - -=Perseus=: king of Macedonia, on whom the Romans made war in 171 B.C. At -first victorious or equal, he was defeated at Pydna by L. Aemilius -Paulus 168 B.C. He was carried to Rome and lived for some years at Alba. -A weak, vacillating and parsimonious monarch. - -=Petrónius=: Titus (or Gaius) Petronius, the famous ‘arbiter of taste’ -under Nero and director of his pleasures. Whether he was the author of -the famous _Satyricon_ is doubtful. - -=Phaeácians=: seafaring inhabitants of the rich and fertile island of -Phaeacia, traditionally identified with Corfu, but possibly Crete. When -Odysseus arrived at the island on his raft he was hospitably entertained -by King Alcinous and sent home to Ithaca by him on a ship. - -=Phaedra=: wife of Theseus and step-mother of Hippolytus, of whom she -became enamoured. The allusion in Plutarch refers to the fondness of -Hippolytus for hunting. - -=Phálăris=: despot of Agrigentum in Sicily _c._ 570 B.C. His name was in -some legends proverbial for cruelty, and with him is associated the -legend of roasting his victims in a brazen bull. Put he is sometimes -represented otherwise and as a student of letters and philosophy. - -=Pheidias= (=Phíd=-) of Athens, the most eminent sculptor of antiquity: -died 432 B.C. He is best known for his work upon the Parthenon and his -colossal statue of Zeus at Olympia. - -=Phérae=: a town in Thessaly, somewhat west of the modern Volo, which -became dominant under the despots Jason and Alexander (q.v.). - -=Philadolphus=: see Ptolemy (1). - -=Philémōn=: Athenian poet of the New Comedy, reckoned second only to -Menander. Lived _c._ 360-262 B.C., and wrote ninety-seven plays. - -=Philétas=: of Cos, _c._ 300 B.C.; elegiac poet and critic, tutor of -Ptolemy II. His thinness was a matter of jest for the comedians. - -=Philip=: 382-336 B.C. king of Macedon, father of Alexander, and, in a -large measure, conqueror of Greece. Demosthenes’ _Philippics_ and other -speeches were directed against him. An able, hard-working, ambitious, -and rather unscrupulous man; a hard drinker and a sensualist, especially -fond of rude jest, but with intellectual tastes. - -=Philíppȋdes=: one of the better Athenian poets of the New Comedy; _fl._ -_c._ 335 B.C. At first he attacked the Macedonian rulers, but later -became a friend of Lysimachus (q.v.). - -=Philóchŏrus=: Athenian writer on the history, antiquities, and legends -of his country, and on miscellaneous subjects: _fl._ _c._ 300-260 B.C. - -=Philócrătes=: Athenian orator, first a supporter, then an opponent, of -Demosthenes. His policy was consistently to abet the pretensions of -Philip of Macedon, who had bribed him lavishly, to the detriment of -Athens. He was ultimately impeached and compelled to go into exile, 330 -B.C. - -=Philoctétos=: Greek hero (in the expedition to Troy) left desolate on -the island of Lemnos, where he suffered deprivations and the agonies of -a gangrened foot. - -=Philopoemen=: (1) the most distinguished Greek soldier of his day; head -of the Achaean League several times from 208 B.C.; a man of culture and -high character. - -(2) controlling minister of Attalus II (q.v.). - -=Philótas=: there were several Macedonians of the name in the service of -Alexander. The two chief were (1) the son of Parmenio, a favourite of -Alexander, but found guilty of conspiracy and executed; (2) a general -who subsequently became governor of Cilicia. - -=Philotímus=: a distinguished physician and writer on medicine of the -date of Erasistratus and Herophilus (q.v.), _c._ 300 B.C. - -=Philóxĕnus=: a dithyrambic poet of high repute: _fl._ at Athens 400 -B.C. He thence moved to the court of Dionysius (q.v.), by whom he is -said to have been imprisoned for his scathing criticism on the despot’s -verses. - -=Phóciōn=: 402-317 B.C. An upright Athenian general and statesman, who -favoured, though probably not in an unpatriotic spirit, the submission -of Athens to the Macedonian power under Alexander (335) and Antipater -(q.v.). He was frequently opposed to Demosthenes, and was put to death -by his countrymen on a charge of treason. - -=Phōcýlȋdes=: epic and elegiac poet of Miletus, _fl._ _c._ 530 B.C. Many -of his lines passed into current maxims, and were so intended. - -=Phoenix=: a fugitive kindly received by Peleus and entrusted with the -bringing-up of his son Achilles. He had quarrelled with his own father, -whose young mistress he had corrupted at the request of his jealous -mother. - -=Pindar=: of Thebes, the most eminent lyrist of Greece, composer of -songs, choral and processional odes, dirges, &c.; lived _c._ 522-442 -B.C. - -=Píttăcus=: of Mytilene, _c._ 650-569. Contemporary of Sappho. During -the struggles of the oligarchical and popular parties he was appointed -by the latter ‘elective autocrat’ and legislator. The chief -representative on the other side had been Myrsilus. A philosophic poet -and the originator of moral maxims. - -=Plato=: the aristocratic and cultured philosopher of Athens, follower -of Socrates, founder of the Academy, and writer of the Dialogues which -go under his name. - -=Pólĕmo=: (1) of Athens, who in his youth abandoned profligate habits -for the cult of the Platonic philosophy under the influence of -Xenocrates (q.v.), whom he succeeded 315 B.C. - -(2) a Stoic philosopher, traveller, and geographer, who wrote copiously -on inscriptions, &c.; _fl._ _c._ 195 B.C. - -=Polýbius=: Greek historian from Arcadia, carried to Italy by the Romans -167 B.C., and taken under the patronage of Q. Fabius Maximus and Scipio -Aemilianus. He accompanied Scipio against Carthage and in Spain. Wrote a -sound, useful, unimaginative history of the years 220-146 B.C. A -practical statesman and a student of the military art. - -=Polycleitus= (-=clít=-): of Argos, _fl._ _c._ 450-412 B.C.; a sculptor -of the first rank, particularly distinguished for his representation of -human forms, to which he imparted his ideals of strength and beauty -according to a ‘canon of proportions’. These were best typified in his -_Doryphorus_ (‘spear-bearer’), which was itself sometimes called ‘the -Canon’. His chief colossal statue was the chryselephantine Hera of -Argos. - -=Pontus=: in two senses: (1) the Black Sea; (2) a province or region on -the eastern half of the south coast of that sea. - -=Praxítĕles=: the second greatest name in Athenian sculpture; _fl._ _c._ -365 B.C. He is the head of the ‘later’ (or more graceful) Attic school, -Pheidias (q.v.) representing the earlier, more massive and majestic. He -particularly excelled with his statues of Aphrodite (e.g. the ‘Venus of -Cnidos’). - -=Priam=: aged king of Troy, father of Hector, whose dead body he came to -Achilles to ransom. - -=Priénë=: an Ionian Greek town in Asia Minor a little south of Ephesus; -the home of Bias. - -=Pródȋcus=: of Ceos, sophist and rhetorical teacher; a contemporary of -Plato and a frequent visitor to Athens. His bodily weakness was -notorious. - -=Prométheus=: mythical semi-deity, gifted with great foresight; a -benefactor of mankind by giving them fire stolen from heaven (an offence -for which he was cruelly punished by Zeus), and by the invention of the -civilizing arts. His name was commonly interpreted ‘Fore-thinker’. - -=Ptolemy=: (1) Ptolemy II (Philadelphus), king of Egypt 285-247 B.C. - -(2) Ptolemy III (Euergetes), king of Egypt 247-222 B.C. - -(3) Ptolemy IV (Philopator), king 222-205 B.C.; a vicious and sensual -monarch, ruled by his minister Sosibius. - -(4) Ptolemy V (Epiphanes), king 205-181 B.C. See _Aristomenes_. It was -in the early part of his reign that Egypt became a Roman protectorate. -He came to the throne at the age of four. - -=Publius Nigidius=: contemporary of Cicero; a man of great scientific -and mathematical learning, as became a Pythagorean. - -=Pūpius Piso=: Roman orator, and consul in 61 B.C.; a supporter of -Clodius and therefore hostile to Cicero. - -=Pyrrhus=: king of Epirus, called in by the people of Tarentum against -the Romans. After a dearly won victory in 280 B.C. he sent his eloquent -minister to Rome to offer humiliating terms of peace. These were -rejected, and after a practically equal contest he retired from Italy. - -=Pythagoras=: of Samos, _fl._ _c._ 540-520 B.C. He had apparently -travelled in the East and acquired, besides mathematical knowledge (in -which he made some advances), mystical theological views and probably -also his doctrine of the transmigration of souls. He migrated to Croton -in South Italy, and there became the founder of a close and aristocratic -philosophical brotherhood, to whom the word of the master was sufficient -(_ipse dixit_). Many legends gathered about him and a mystical -interpretation was put upon his rather compressed maxims. - -=Pythian=: = ‘belonging to Pytho’, i.e. to Delphi, the seat of the chief -oracle of Apollo. - -=Rhium=: the promontory on the south side of the mouth of the Corinthian -Gulf, the north promontory being Antirrhium. - -=Rusticus=: L. Junius Arulenus Rusticus, a Roman noble of the Stoic -school and champion of liberty, so far as that was possible under the -Roman emperors. Put to death by Domitian (emperor A.D. 81-96). - -=Samius=: lyrist and writer of epigrams at the Macedonian court, _c._ -300 B.C. - -=Scipio=: (1) P. Cornelius Scipio Africanus Major; the brilliant and -almost ideal Roman general who conquered Hannibal in 202 B.C. - -(2) P. Cornelius Scipio Aemilianus Africanus Minor, who completed the -conquest of Carthage 146 B.C.; a student of letters and philosophy. - -=Scirōn=: a spot on the Sacred Way from Athens to Eleusis. - -=Scyros=: island in the Aegean off north-east of Euboea. Here Achilles -was for a time hidden by his mother in woman’s dress, and occupied in -feminine tasks to keep him from the dangers of Troy. - -=Seleucus=: called Callinicus (the ‘Victorious’); king of Syria 246-226 -B.C. He was defeated by Antiochus with the help of Gauls (= Galatians) -at Ancyra, and it was for a time thought that he had perished in the -rout. He managed, however, to retain his kingdom. - -=Silániōn=: Athenian portrait sculptor _c._ 324 B.C. His _Jocasta_ -represented her as dying, her pallor being realistically rendered by the -unworthy device of mixing silver with bronze. - -=Siléni=: a class of tipsy satyrs associated with Dionysus. _The_ -Silenus was in a sense the Falstaff of Greek legend. - -=Simónȋdes=: a most distinguished poet of Ceos, writer of elegies, -choral and processional odes, epigrams, and drinking songs (556-467 -B.C.). He spent part of his life as a kind of court poet in Thessaly and -at Syracuse, and visited Athens. His compositions were of a high order, -and his moral maxims much in vogue, but he was notorious for worldliness -and a love of money. - -=Sísyphus=: legendary king of Corinth; type of fraudulent and criminal -cunning; punished in Hades by being compelled to roll a stone up a hill -for ever and never establishing it at the top. - -=Socrates=: the Athenian philosopher (468-399 B.C.), from whose thinking -most of the later schools were in some way descended. His object was to -bring philosophy down to earth, and to arrive at true and universal -definitions. His simple character, his whimsical irony, and his -dialectical skill formed the groundwork for many stories. His method was -conversational and non-didactic. He wrote nothing, and what we know of -him is due to his disciples Plato and Xenophon, and to later writers. - -=Solōn=: of Athens, _c._ 638-558 B.C.; aristocrat, trader, traveller, -poet and thinker. Chosen at a time of political and financial crisis as -mediator between parties in Attica, and as constitution-maker, he -behaved with strict impartiality and self-effacement. We may believe -that he visited Egypt, but his intercourse with Croesus (q.v.) is of -doubtful warrant. Author of much proverbial wisdom. - -=Sophocles=: 496-406 B.C.; second in date, and perhaps in merit, of -three great Athenian tragedians; a genial and practical man of the -world. - -=Sótădes=: a poet at Alexandria _c._ 280 B.C. He wrote songs and satires -of a lascivious kind. One account states that in consequence of his -abuse he was thrown into the sea in a leaden chest. - -=Speusippus=: of Athens, nephew and disciple of Plato, and his successor -as head of the Academy (347-339 B.C.); a writer on ethical and -dialectical subjects. His character is said to have excelled his -intellect. - -=Spínthărus=: the best known person of the name was an inferior tragic -poet of Heraclea on the Black Sea satirized by Aristophanes and other -comedians. - -=Stilpo=: a high-minded and sane philosopher of great dialectical -acuteness. Founder of the Megarian school, which made a cult of virtue -while denying the possibility of knowledge. See also under Demetrius. - -=Sulla=: the distinguished Roman general, 138-78 B.C. He took charge of -the war against Mithridates in 87 B.C., his capture of Athens taking -place in the next year. His love of pleasure resulted in the pimpled -face referred to in Plutarch’s article on _Garrulity_. Caecilia Metella -was his fourth wife. - -=Sýbăris=: the oldest Greek settlement in the southernmost part of -Italy, once large, prosperous, and a by-word for effeminate luxury -(whence ‘sybarite’); afterwards completely overthrown and destroyed, its -place being taken by Thurii (q.v.). - -=Taenărum=: now Matapan; cape at the end of the middle prong of the -Peloponnese. - -=Télĕphus=: king of Mysia at the time of the Trojan war. He was wounded -by Achilles, and could only be cured by ‘that which had wounded him’. -The remedy turned out to be the rust of Achilles’ spear. - -=Tháïs=: a witty and beautiful courtesan of Athens, first associated -with Alexander during his Asiatic campaigns and then with Ptolemy in -Egypt. - -=Thales=: of Miletus, _c._ 635-555 B.C. Famous as a physical -philosopher, mathematician, and shrewd practical man. He is regularly -mentioned first among the Seven Sages. - -=Theaetétus=: a high-minded Athenian youth, eager for knowledge, who -plays his part in Plato’s dialogue of that name. - -=Theágĕnes=: Theban general at Chaeronea (338 B.C.). - -=Theánō=: wife or pupil (or both) of Pythagoras (q.v.), herself a writer -on philosophy and a pattern of virtue. - -=Themistŏcles=: became political leader at Athens 483 B.C., and -commanded the Athenian contingent at the battle of Salamis. Subsequently -(471 B.C.) this extremely able, but apparently not extremely honest, man -was ostracised. His last days were spent in the service of Persia. His -son Diophantus is of no note. - -=Theócritus=: of Chios, rhetorician and sophist, noted for his caustic -wit. The Antigonus who put him to death was Antigonus the ‘One-Eyed’. - -=Theógnis=: elegiac poet of the sententious order. He flourished at -Megara _c._ 550-540 B.C. Amid the feuds of his country he sides with the -aristocrats, and allusions to political injustice are frequent. Many -current maxims of proverbial wisdom were fathered on ‘Theognis’ as a -matter of course. - -=Theōn=: painter of Samos, contemporary of Apelles (q.v.) and Alexander; -spoken of by Pliny as ‘next to the first’. - -=Theophrastus=: of Lesbos and afterwards of Athens; disciple and -successor of Aristotle as head of the Peripatetics (322 B.C.). An -encyclopaedic writer on logic, physics, history, biology, zoology, &c. -His best-known work is his _Characters_. - -=Theopompus=: king of Sparta, _fl._ _c._ 750 B.C. To his reign belonged -the change of the form of government by the establishment of the popular -‘ephors’ to control the royal power. - -=Thersítes=: misshapen and virulent demagogue in the Greek army before -Troy. - -=Thĕtis=: sea-goddess; mother of Achilles. - -=Thrasybúlus=: despot of Miletus, contemporary and friend of Periander -(q.v.), over whom he exercised a bad influence, as in advising him to -‘cut down the tall poppies’. - -=Thúrii=: Greek city in South Italy on the west side of the Gulf of -Tarentum, noted for its special democratic system. - -=Tīmágĕnes=: an Alexandrian or Syrian rhetorician and historian. He -taught and wrote at Rome under Augustus, whose friendship he obtained, -losing it, however, through his caustic freedom. - -=Tīmocléa=: of Thebes. Plutarch tells of her noble and daring spirit in -his _Life of Alexander_ (c. 12). - -=Tīmomăchus=: painter of Byzantium, first century B.C.; particularly -famed for his _Ajax_ and _Medea_, which were bought by Julius Caesar. -Medea was represented meditating the murder of her children. - -=Timóthëus=: (1) an able and spirited Athenian general, who obtained -several rather roving successes, chiefly against the Lacedaemonians. -Something of a free lance; of popular character and considerable -culture; _fl._ 378-354 B.C. - -(2) poet and musician of Miletus, settled at Athens; _fl._ _c._ 400-360 -B.C. His poems were mainly dithyrambs (high-flown and wordy -compositions) or cognate lyrics. His music, at first ill received on -account of its vulgarizing innovations, became immensely popular. - -=Tissaphernes=: Persian satrap of lower Asia Minor. See Alcibiades. - -=Tīthónus=: a mortal beloved of Eos (Aurora), who obtained for him -immortality, but forgot to obtain him immortal youth. - -=Troezen=: a town in the east of the Peloponnese near the entrance of -the Saronic Gulf. - -=Tyndareus’ sons=: Castor and Pollux, the traditional preservers of -seamen. - -=Typhōn=: = Set; Egyptian malignant deity; brother, enemy, and slayer of -Osiris. - -=Xenócrătes=: 396-314 B.C.: philosopher from Chalcedon, disciple of -Plato, and philosophic teacher and writer. His earnestness of character -and application to study atoned for his lack of the Graces. Became head -of the Academic school next but one after Plato. - -=Xenóphănes=: philosopher of Colophon, and afterwards of Elea in Italy, -in later part of sixth century B.C. Noted for his high conception of a -Deity as neither anthropomorphic nor subject to human passions. His -doctrines were embodied in hexameter verse. - -=Xenophōn=: of Athens; the well-known historian, and leader of the -retreat of the ‘Ten Thousand’ as recorded in his _Anabasis_. A -philosophical adherent of Socrates and a voluminous writer. Lived _c._ -444-359 B.C. - -=Zacýnthus= = Zante, the southernmost of the Ionian islands. - -=Zéno=: (1) of Citium in Cyprus and subsequently of Athens; founder of -the Stoic philosophy; a man of simple, if rather dour, character, and -capable of an apt retort: _fl._ _c._ 270 B.C. A writer on ethical, -physical, and other philosophic subjects. - -(2) Philosopher of Elea; disciple of Parmenides (q.v.); upholder of -popular liberty against a usurping despot. - - - - - APPENDIX - NOTES ON THE GREEK TEXT - - -4 D ἐνίοτε γὰρ εἰδότες αἰσθομένοις μᾶλλον αὐτοῖς τοῦτο λεγόντων. Read -... εἰδότες, (ἢ) αἰσθόμενοι ἢ καὶ ἄλλων αὐτοῖς τοῦτο λεγόντων. - -5 C ἵνα μάθῃς ὅτι τῶν ἀναξίων τὰ τίμια οὐδὲν διαφέρει. The sense -requires ἀξίων ‘cheap’. - -6 C πρὸς δὲ τούτοις τί ἄν τοὺς παῖδας ... καλὸν γάρ τοι κτλ. The cause -of the lacuna is obvious if we read τί ἄν τοὺς παῖδας (καλὸν -διδάσκοιεν;) καλὸν γάρ τοι κτλ. - -7 B ἕως ἔτι μέμνημαι τῆς παιδείας. Rather ... (ταύτης) τῆς παιδείας. - -7 F τὸ μὲν γὰρ εὐγενῶς εὐτυχεῖν ἀνδρός, τὸ δ᾽ ἀνεπιφθόνως εὐηνίου -ἀνθρώπου. Read τὸ μὲν γὰρ εὐγενῶς ἀτυχεῖν ἀνδρός, τὸ δ᾽ ἀνεπιφθόνως -εὐθηνεῖν ἀνθρώπου. - -8 B καὶ ἀπὸ πηγῆς τὴν ἐπιστήμην τηρεῖν συμβέβηκεν. Read ἀπὸ πείνης ... - -8 D ἰσχνὸς δὲ στρατιώτης πολεμικῶν ἀγώνων ἐθὰς ἀθλητῶν καὶ πολεμίων -φάλαγγας διωθεῖ. Read ... ἀθλητῶν καταπιμέλων ... - -8 F καὶ ταῦτα μὲν δὴ τῷ λόγῳ παρεφορτισάμην, ἵν᾽ ἐφεξῆς καὶ τἄλλα ... -συνάψω. Read ... νῦν δ᾽ ἐφεξῆς. - -11 A ἵνα δὲ γέλωτα παράσχῃ τοῖς ἄλλοις, αὐτὸς πολὺν χρόνον ἔκλαυσεν. We -require the antithesis γέλωτα (βραχὺν) παράσχῃ. - -12 E ὅτι δεῖ τὸν βίον ἐπιτηδεύειν καὶ μὴ δεῖν δεσμῷ προσάπτειν. Read ... -καὶ μηδενὶ δεσμῷ ... - -13 B ὡς ἐκ λυρικῆς τέχνης. The sense requires νευροσπαστικῆς, to which -νευρικῆς may be equivalent. - -14 C τὸ μὲν οὖν πάσας τὰς προειρημένας ... συμπεριλαβεῖν εὐχῆς ἴσως ἢ -παραινέσεως ἔργον ἐστί. The word most easily lost would be (εὐημερίας). -Also (μἂλλον) is to be supplied. - -44 B ἐν τῷ καταφρονεῖν τιθέμενοι καὶ τὸ σεμνὸν ὑπεροψίᾳ διὼκοντες. Read -ἐν τῷ καταφρονεῖν (τὸ φρονεῖν) τιθέμενοι ... - -46 B ᾠδήν τινα πεποιημένην ἐφ᾽ ἁρμονίας. Read ἐφ᾽ ἁρμονίας (νέας) or the -like. - -74 A τοιοῦτον γὰρ ἡ θεραπευτικὴ παρρησία ζητεῖ τρόπον, ἡ δὲ πρακτικὴ τὸν -ἐναντίον. The sense requires ἡ δὲ ταρακτικὴ ... - -152 A εἰ μὴ μόνος εἴη φρόνιμος. Probably εἰ ἐμμόνως εἴη ... - -152 D σὺ δὲ δεινὸς εἶ κοράκων ἐπαΐειν καὶ κολοιῶν, τῆς δὲ σοῦ φωνῆς οὐκ -ἀκριβῶς ἐξακούεις. For τῆς δὲ σοῦ (δεσου) read τῆς (δεδουσ i.e.) δ᾽ -Αἰδοῦς ... - -158 D δεινὸν μὲν οὖν ... καὶ τὸ γεωργίας αὐτῇ. The sense requires αὐτῆς. - -159 D ὥσπερ ἐν μυλῶνι τῷ σώματι τὴν ψυχὴν ἐγκεκαλυμμένην. Read -ἐγκεκλῃμένην. - -160 F ἐπὶ τὸν τόπον οἷ προσέμελλε. Read προσέκελλε. - -163 D ... ἀπαντῆσαι μόνον ... θαλάττῃ ἕπεσθαι κτλ. The sense would be -given by ... ἀπαντῆσαι μόνον (θαρρῆσαι, τὸ δ᾽ ἀπαλλάττεσθαι, καὶ ἐκ τῆς) -θαλάττης ἕπεσθαι κτλ. - -504 B ὅτι πρεσβύτης ἐστὶν ἐν Ἀθήναις παρὰ πότον σιωπᾶν δυνάμενος. Rather -... πρεσβύτης (εἷς) ... - -504 C ἀλλ᾽ ὅμως εἰπὼν καὶ ἀναφωνήσας ἐκεῖνο περὶ αὑτοῦ τὸ ... Probably -ἀλλ᾽ ὅμως (τὸ τοῦ Ὀδυσσέως) εἰπὼν κτλ. - -513 A Φιλίππου γράψαντος εἰ δέχονται τῇ πόλει αὐτόν, εἰς χάρτην ΟΥ μέγα -γράψαντες ἀπέστειλαν. There would be more point in ... εἰς χάρτην (τὴν -αὐτὴν) ... Moreover, what they wrote was simply Ο. - -514 F τὸ γὰρ μάτην καὶ διακενῆς οὐχ ἧττον ἐν τοῖς λόγοις ἢ τοῖς ἔργοις -ἔστιν. Read ... οὐχ ἧττον (εὐλαβητέον) ἐν ... - -515 D ὅσσον ὕδωρ κατ᾽ Ἀλίζονος ἢ δρυὸς ἀμφὶ πέτηλα. Perhaps ὅσσον ὕδωρ -καταχεῖ νότος ἦ ... - - - - - ● Transcriber’s Notes: - ○ Missing or obscured punctuation was silently corrected. - ○ Typographical errors were silently corrected. - ○ Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only - when a predominant form was found in this book. - ○ Text that was in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_). - ○ Text that was in bold face is enclosed by equals signs (=bold=). - ○ Page references printed in the margin of the book have been moved - into the paragraphs near where they appear, contained in square - brackets, and begun with the word "Sidenote". - ○ Footnotes have been moved to follow the chapters in which they are - referenced. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Selected Essays of Plutarch, Vol. I., by Plutarch - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SELECTED ESSAYS OF PLUTARCH *** - -***** This file should be named 62618-0.txt or 62618-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/2/6/1/62618/ - -Produced by Turgut Dincer, David King, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. 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